Star Trek: Typhon Pact: Rough Beasts of Empire - By David R. George III Page 0,2
carried into his mind by an empathic projection—a strong empathic projection. At once, Spock realized that he had not been assaulted by a Romulan. He also saw how the truth underlying that fact could aid him with the rudimentary plan he had formed.
He lifted his arm and whipped it downward in a single, rapid motion, hurling the knife at his foe. Light glinted along the blade as the weapon passed through slivers of illumination. Spock’s attacker nimbly jumped aside, turning to watch the flight of the knife as it shot past and disappeared into shadows untouched by Spock’s lost beacon. For an instant, the face of Spock’s assailant became visible in a patch of reflected light: a bald skull, mottled flesh, large pointed ears curling outward from his head, raised brow and cheekbones surrounding sunken eyes, a jagged line of teeth.
The Reman did not chase after the knife, but spun back around, his features receding once more into the gloom. He reached for no other weapon that he might be carrying, but he bent his knees and tensed his body, obviously about to spring toward his prey. Spock knew that the Reman would require nothing but his hands to complete the slaying he’d begun.
With virtually no time and no other opportunity left to him, Spock willfully surrendered his mental discipline. His own fears, both intellectual and emotional, soared within him. Though Spock had long ago accepted the reality—indeed, the necessity—of the feelings his mind generated, and though he regularly allowed himself to experience what he imprecisely regarded as his “human half,” he still sustained considerable control over his internal life. As he faced his own mortality directly and without restraint, though, a surfeit of powerful emotions threatened to overwhelm him.
Instead of battling his fear, Spock latched onto it. He searched for and found the anger accompanying it: anger at the violence perpetrated against him, anger that his death would forestall his attempts at reunification, anger that he would be forcibly and permanently removed from the lives of those about whom he cared. Then he deliberately dropped his mental guard, pulling down the defenses he maintained about his mind that protected him from external forces.
He immediately felt the full, robust empathic presence of the Reman. Spock allowed it to sweep over and through him, to buffet and suffuse him with impatience, frustration, and a determination to kill. Rather than battling against it, Spock added to it, layering it with his own anger. As the redoubled emotions grew into a rage, he redirected it to his attacker.
The Reman flinched, cocking his head to one side for a second. Then he launched himself forward, his body uncoiling as though released from great pressure. He came at Spock fast, lifting his hands before him as he closed the gap.
Spock remained motionless, calculating that he would have but one chance to save himself. He judged the speed at which the Reman moved, the man’s long gait devouring the distance between then, and still Spock waited. He watched the long, bony fingers his assailant clearly meant to wrap around his neck.
Finally, with the tips of the Reman’s curved fingernails nearly upon him, Spock moved. He threw himself backward onto the ground, simultaneously pulling his knees in toward his body. The pain emanating from his midsection swelled to almost unimaginable proportions, and his vision began to cloud at the margins. Still, he willed himself not to stop.
Unable to halt his momentum, the Reman overbalanced, but as he fell forward, his fingers found their target and encircled Spock’s throat. Spock felt the touch of his assailant’s cold, clammy hands on his neck, along with the weight of the Reman’s body descending atop him. Their gazes met at close range, their faces mere centimeters apart.
Spock thrust his legs upward. His feet connected with the Reman’s hips, causing a massive jolt of agony to rip like lightning through the center of Spock’s body. But the action continued his attacker’s momentum, and the Reman hurtled over and past him.
Spock felt his assailant’s hands jerk free from around his throat, then heard a meaty crunch as the Reman’s head struck the near side of the tunnel. Under normal circumstances, Spock would have found the sound repugnant, but in this case, it proved satisfying, and a cause for hope. The Reman slumped to the ground, his right boot coming down hard on Spock’s face. Spock felt the cartilage of his nose splinter and blood spurt from his nostrils.