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Leaning against it, he took long, slow, deep breaths. He looked as if he was trying to calm himself, trying to come to terms with the devastating impact of what Tuvok had revealed to him.

His Indarrhi friend joined him and put a hand on the Thallonian’s shoulder. But with a snarl, Abbis batted it away. Shrugging, Wyl withdrew to the center of the room.

Just then, a slight rustling sound caught Crusher’s attention. He glanced at the Vulcan and realized what it meant-that Tuvok had freed himself from his bonds. But the Thallonian seemed to have heard it too, because he turned back to them with widened eyes.

What happened next took only a fraction of a second, but it seemed to the commander that it occurred in slow motion.

As Abbis raised his hand weapon and took aim, the Vulcan launched himself across the room and grabbed the shocked Indarrhi. Then he spun Wyl around and used him as a shield against the blue bolt of energy the Thallonian unleashed at him.

The bolt struck Wyl in the chest and the Indarrhi spasmed horribly under its influence-then slumped in Tuvok’s arms. There was no question in Crusher’s mind that Wyl was dead.

“Wyl!” Abbis cried out, horror etched into his every feature.

The hurt in his voice made Crusher’s chest ache in sympathy. He suspected, if even part of what Tuvok had said was true, that the Thallonian had just murdered the only being who ever really liked him.

Before he could fire again, Tuvok was on him like a panther. A quick contraction of the Vulcan’s fingers on a nerve in his adversary’s neck and Abbis crumpled without a sound.

Tuvok recovered the Thallonian’s weapon and tucked it into his belt. Then he listened for an intrusion from outside. When none materialized, he came around behind Crusher and began loosening his bonds.

“An unexpected opportunity,” he remarked casually.

Crusher thought he saw a glint of humor in the dark brown eyes. “Is that a joke, Ensign?”

Tuvok looked at him, as inscrutable as ever. “Vulcans do not joke,” he pointed out.

At last, Tuvok crossed the room again and placed his pointed ear to the door. “Abbis must have dismissed the guards for the moment,” he noted. “I still do not hear anyone out there.”

As Crusher got up and rubbed his wrists, restoring circulation to them, he said, “Can you tell me what the hell just happened? For a second I thought you were turning traitor or something.”

“A necessary ploy,” Tuvok noted.

“And that business about Abbis’s father…” the commander asked. “Where did you get all that?”

“The Indarrhi’s empathic connection worked both ways,” the ensign explained-though it seemed that only half his attention was focused on the explanation. “When he attempted to sense my emotions, our minds were linked. It was not difficult to examine his thoughts and extract something useful from them. And the rest-” He hesitated.

“The rest…?” Crusher prodded.

Again, Tuvok’s dark eyes seemed to glimmer with the faintest hint of mischief. “The rest,” said the Vulcan, “I made up.”

Crusher grinned at him. “Tuvok, you son of a mugato. I didn’t know you had it in you.”

The ensign’s brow wrinkled ever so slightly. “There is much you do not know about me, Commander. Perhaps we will have the chance to rectify that at a later time. For the moment, however, I suggest we address ourselves to the question of regaining our freedom.”

He had barely gotten the words out when a series of loud grunts and other noises beyond the door alerted them to the guards’ return. Thinking quickly, Crusher whispered an idea to Tuvok.

The Vulcan nodded his approval, changed the setting on the Thallonian’s hand weapon and turned it over to his companion. Then they returned to the chairs to which they had been tied, sat down and placed their hands behind their backs.

Here goes nothing, thought the commander. “They killed each other!” he cried out at the top of his lungs. “Somebody help us! Oh, God, the blood-get them out of here!”

At once the door was flung open and Old Scowly’s twin-the one whose mammoth fist had pounded Crusher’s face-rushed