Return to Valjiir Stories
The horror of what was coming out of Ruth’s mouth had stunned everyone on the Bridge into silence. Spock had immediately gone to her, cradling her head in his arms as the distorted conversation came from her open mouth, her staring eyes shifting from their usual royal amethyst to the deepest damson-plum. Sulu knelt next to her, desperate fury quickly overtaking the terror in his eyes. Chekov blinked uncomprehendingly, and Daffy spat three times on her fingers, cursing under her breath. Uhura had drawn back into Tomor’s arms, who was, incongruously, smiling grimly.
“That cannot be…” Chekov eventually managed.
“I might not know who it is, but I sure as scab know what it is,” Tomor grunted.
“What it is?” Uhura asked.
“That, Beauty, is what Havens call resha. Little gods. Tutelary deities.”
“You must be joking…” Pavel snorted.
“That bitch is a goddess?” Daffy said.
“Isn’t that what I said, you stupid little slut?” came from Ruth’s mouth. It wasn’t quite LiLing’s voice, but it was easily recognizable – and definitely not Ruth’s.
“What do you want?” Sulu growled.
Ruth’s arm moved jerkily to his face. “Oh, Sulu-chan I think you know.”
He batted the hand away. “You’re dead,” he spat.
“As I said, not quite. And I want you as much as the body I used to inhabit ever did.”
The First Office swallowed. “Why?” he choked. “I never loved you.”
The Goddess laughed. “What’s love got to do with it?” she returned.
“You only want him because somebody else’s got him,” Daffy snarled.
“You. Will. Be. Silent!” was thunder from Ruth’s lips, and Daffy choked, her hands going to her throat.
“Stop it, leave her alone!” Chekov shouted, clawing towards the Antari’s body.
“Then keep her quiet, my dear Pashushka,” the Goddess said sweetly.
“He’s not your dear anything!” Daffy rasped, and Pavel put his hand over her mouth.
“Dafshka, keep quiet!” he barked, fear making his voice rough.
“Let Jilla go!” Ruth suddenly cried.
“And just what do you offer me in her place?” the voice of the Goddess answered immediately.
“My wife, no!” Spock said before Ruth’s eyes had changed back to a soft violet.
“While that would grieve him almost as much,” the Goddess said, her eyes never leaving Sulu’s, “I think not.”
“Take me then,” Sulu replied, his tone dark and adamant. “I’m who you want, let Jilla go.”
“Tempting, Sulu-chan – but I think I’d much rather kill her than you.”
“NO!” came from nearly everyone in the room at the same time.
“You want her to live that much? Very well. Agree to stay on Lorelei, Sulu, and I’ll release her – providing your illustrious captain agrees never to come here with his whore of a wife again.”
“Stay on…” Sulu swallowed. “Jilla stays, too.”
“Don’t be silly, darling.”
“I… Li, I can’t,” Sulu choked. “We’re Bonded. She’ll die…”
“And what a terrible shame that will be.” The voice sounded as smug and arrogant and hard as LiLing’s ever had.
“You offer no choice at all, Goddess,” Spock put in harshly. “Whether or not Sulu agrees to your terms, his wife will die.”
“As I died, even after giving him back to the bitch!” the Goddess seethed. “See what it feels like to be in a no-win situation?” The dark gaze turned to Daffy. “Ask the slut of a chemist. After last night, she knows how that feels, don’t you, Dafshka darling?”
Daffy’s lip curled, but before she could say a word, Chekov spat, “Don’t you dare call her that!”
The Goddess laughed derisively. “And one who doesn’t even believe in me is going to stop me?”
“And you were responsible for Kam’s winning streak, too?” Tomor suddenly put in.
“Call it incentive, my child,” was the careless answer.
“My child?” Uhura repeated.
“I am resha, he is Havani.”
Uhura gazed at Tomor, who shrugged. “She’s got me dead to rights, Beauty.”
The eyes of the Goddess turned again to Sulu. “Have you decided, my jewel?”
Sulu shuddered, drawing away from her. “I can’t…” he whispered. “I can’t, I can’t…”
“Very well. Shall I allow you to say goodbye to your little silver bitch?
“NO!”
“Goddess, give us a moment alone to discuss your terms,” Spock said. “Ruth can assure him Jilla is still alive, and we can convince him to do what is right.”
“Spock?!?” Sulu gasped, and the Vulcan held up a hand.
“You always were a logical man, Captain,” the Goddess said with a not-quite-open sneer. “I like that. And since you alone see fit to address me properly… Five minutes. No more.”
With a sigh that seemed to suck all the heat from the room, Ruth collapsed into Spock’s arms. Sulu bent to the deck, choking back sobs. Daffy started hitting his back, swearing a blue streak. Pavel sat back, stunned, and Tomor spoke quietly to Uhura, explaining as much as he was able, how a dead sciences ensign could become a Havani resha.
“The resha are demi-gods,” Tomor was saying. “Havens look at them as guides and guardians of the people of their individual planets. They’re basically observers, deciding which of the people living in their area of influence have the best potential for handling any cosmic deals that crop up on their watch. They’re supposed to herd those individuals toward lessons that will maximize that potential.” He shrugged. “And I’m not supposed to be telling outworlders any of this. But since Lorelei’s resha obviously decided to change the rules of the game…”
“That doesn’t explain how that dead bitch got here,” Daffy pointed out.
“What does it matter?!” Sulu demanded. “She’s got Jilla, and she’s gonna kill her!!”
“It matters, Sulu, because the more information we have, the better able we will be to formulate some way out of this situation,” Spock said.
“It was the Seeders’ doing,” Ruth put in, still slightly dazed. “She said it was the Seeders…”
“And she’s clearly lying,” Chekov interrupted brusquely. “We can hardly take her word on anything.”
“May be,” Tomor said with another shrug. “Some resha are agents of Saford.”
“Who?” Daffy said.
“Saford. He’s like… oh hell, I’m no fucking priest,” Tomor muttered. Uhura patted his hand sympathetically.
“We’ve got three minutes left,” Sulu pointed out. “We have to do something!”
“Clearly,” Spock mused. “Sulu, we know that Jilla requires your presence, and that without it, she fades. However, that was before your Bond with her was completed. If you are well, even if at some distance, the Bond will sustain her.”
“But for how long, Spock?” Ruth asked. “She’s not a telepath, neither is Roy…”
“But perhaps, my wife, long enough for us to find another solution.” He faced his First Officer. “I think, my friend, that you have little choice but to agree to the Goddess’ demands.”
“Stay on Lorelei,” Sulu said miserably. He turned bleak eyes to his captain. “I’m not that strong, Spock. Day after day of that kind of temptation… without Jilla…”
“I’ll stay with him, sir,” Chekov said abruptly.
“You’ll what?!” Daffy cried.
“I think, Pavel, that that is an excellent idea,” Spock returned, ignoring Gollub’s outburst. “You can support and strengthen him while we work on a better answer.”
“Oh, no, I’m not leaving him alone on fucking Lorelei!” Daffy raged.
“Dafshka, I don’t want you near that – woman,” Chekov protested immediately.
“Think, Pavel,” Uhura said with an apologetic smile at the chemist. “No one can keep a man in line better than Daffy.”
“But – it will be very dangerous…”
“The suggestion does have much merit,” Spock agreed
“See, I’m needed!” Gollub exclaimed, and Chekov looked pained, and very worried, but nodded curtly.
“And what are you gonna tell Jilla?” Sulu asked, his voice a rasp of anguish. “How are you gonna explain to her that I haven’t… oh god, she begged me – begged me not to leave her!”
Ruth crawled over to him, hugging him fiercely. “We’ll make her understand, Roy,” she promised. “We’ll help her survive until we can get you out of this.”
“I’m sorry,” the helmsman moaned, clearly speaking to Jilla. “Little one, I’m sorry, I’m sorry…!”
Ruth’s head jerked back, her face grotesquely distorted.
“Time’s up,” the voice of the Goddess of Lorelei said with eager viciousness.
Sulu pushed Ruth’s body away. “I’ll stay, you bitch,” he hissed. “But I see Jilla safe and on this ship first.”
“I have your word, Sulu-chan?”
“And mine, Goddess,” Spock said calmly.
“Better than gold,” the cold voice said gleefully. “Or, in this case…”
The temperature on the Bridge of the Enterprise suddenly dropped a good twenty degrees, and before anyone could react, Jilla Majiir’s naked body appeared in a casing of ice that quickly melted. Sulu bolted toward her, and just before his outstretched arms reached her, she slumped to the deck, unconscious.
“If you touch her, all bets, as they say, are off, Sulu,” the Goddess warned sweetly.
“You have no heart, resha Lorelei,” Tomor said.
“No,” came the hard answer. “It was beamed out of existence along with the rest of my body. Transport him down now, Captain. I still hold her life in my hands.”
Sulu swore bitterly, staring at Jilla’s crumpled figure. Spock gently took his arm, guiding him to the turbolift, Pavel and Daffy following. Before the lift doors closed, he caught a glimpse of Ruth and Uhura rushing to the Indiian, and of her pale arm coming up to her face.
Sulu led Pavel and Daffy to the penthouse suite. “There’s no reason to pay for two rooms,” he said tonelessly. “You can have the bed, I doubt I’ll be sleeping much.”
“So the bitch is gonna keep you here and make you pay for room and board?” Daffy asked disdainfully.
“I don’t know,” was the dull response. “I can’t see what she’s gonna get out of this besides my not being with Jilla.”
“And I think that’s precisely what she wants,” Chekov put in. “Unless she can inhabit other bodies…”
“Oy, ke nignehore!” Daffy nearly shouted, and spit on her fingers.
“What was that?” the Russian asked, startled.
“I’m warding off the evil eye, ya mefager!”
Pavel frowned. “I think the time for such jests is long past, Dafshka.”
“Who’s jesting? You don’t speak an ill you don’t want to happen. Didn’t Grandmatushka ever teach you that?”
The navigator folded his arms. “No, she did not. Why should she? And the correct term is babushka.”
“I thought that was a head scarf.”
“The head scarf is called that because old women – grandmothers – wear them.”
“While I’m thrilled with the Russian culture lesson – and the Yiddish one – could you both just shut the fuck up?” Sulu muttered.
Daffy sighed and moved next to him, putting her arms around him. “You’ll make it, Kam,” she said. “Jilla’s safe for now.”
“And the Captain will think of something.” Chekov added. “He’s a very resourceful man.”
“And my dead ex-lover who I got killed is a vengeful goddess on a planet that’s ripe with opportunities for me to fuck up again even without her help!” Sulu returned savagely.
“But you won’t,” the Russian said firmly.
“Because if you even start to think about it, I will so smack the shit out of you,” Daffy agreed.
Sulu sighed, closing his eyes. “I hope to god you’re right,” he said, giving Gollub a quick kiss on the cheek. Then he crossed the room to one of the lounge chairs and sat down, leaning forward, his elbows on his knees, his head in his hands.
“I think he needs a little time alone,” Daffy whispered to Chekov. “And I don’t know about you, but I could use a shower and a nap. We can worry about checking out of our room and getting our things later.”
Pavel nodded, though there was a small part of his mind that was insisting that the last thing Sulu needed was to be left alone. Still, a shower and a nap did sound good. The adrenaline of the last frantic hours was wearing off and his muscles were doing the twitching thing they always did when he was overtired.
“Short ones,” he finally conceded, and with a final, sympathetic glance at his helm partner, he went with Daffy to the bathroom.
Spock stopped at Jilla’s cabin to get her a warm robe before returning to the Bridge. When he arrived, he noted that Ruth had already given the Indiian hers and was holding Jilla in her arms, trying to warm her. Uhura, too, knelt next to them, and Tomor was seated next to the communications officer, scowling. When Spock, too, knelt, offering Jilla the robe, she murmured “thank you” without looking up, and Spock gallantly looked away as she removed Ruth’s robe, handing it back to the Antari, and quickly donned her own.
“Do you remember what happened, rilain?” he asked softly.
“The room was cold,” Jilla replied tightly. “I called hotel maintenance and it felt almost like a transporter beam took me. I was encased in ice and – she – was speaking to me.”
“LiLing?” Uhura ventured.
“Yes. She claims to be a goddess.”
“I think she is, Jilla,” Ruth put in uneasily.
“No, I told you, she’s resha,” Tomor objected. “Havens only have…” He shut his mouth abruptly.
“Sugar, I think you’d better lose your cultural inhibitions,” Uhura suggested.
“This is information we need if we are to combat her influence, Mr. Rand,” Spock agreed.
“So spill,” Ruth finished tersely.
“I told you, I’m not a priest,” Tomor grunted.
“Ensign LiLing is not a deity,” Jilla said, almost shrilly. “She can be nothing more than a vengeful spirit.”
“I wouldn’t be too sure about that, little one,” Tomor advised.
“Jilla, she spoke through me,” Ruth said. “I felt her power…”
The Indiian suddenly stood up, Spock and Ruth rising with her. She swayed for a moment, then announced, “I’m returning to Lorelei.”
“If you do, she’ll snatch you again,” the Haven told her. “Or she’ll kill Kam. Or you. Or both of you.”
“She does not want him dead,” Jilla hissed. “And it is my right to…”
“Jilla, calm yourself,” Spock said, taking a firm but gentle hold of her shoulders. “We must proceed on the information we have.”
“She’s DEAD!” Jilla shrieked.
“She said the Seeders brought her back and made her the goddess of Lorelei,” Ruth said quietly. “The Seeders, Jilla. If only half of what is suspected about them is true…”
“It is,” Spock confirmed. “And if Haven belief is likewise accurate, to have demi-gods in charge of particular planets would fit their methods.”
Jilla stared back and forth between them as if they had both suddenly grown horns.
“Tomor, you have to tell us what you know,” Uhura coaxed. “We have to find some way out of this for Sulu.”
“Shit,” the large Haven muttered. “I’m calling Gage.”
“Boss? There’s a call from the Enterprise,” Rani Tolloff, personal secretary to Lane Gage called from her outer office on board the HTE Leather.
“The Enterprise?” Gage repeated. He sat up, taking his feet off his desk “I thought they were at Lorelei.”
“According to the position locator on the signal, they are,” the pretty woman returned.
“Then what the hell are they doing calling me?”
“Maybe the prices for chemicals are too high?” Rani suggested.
“Better not be any gouging going on,” Gage muttered. “We’re all one big happy Federation now.” He cleared his throat. “Put it through, Rani.”
When the small screen resolved to show his bodyguard’s face, Gage’s eyebrows rose in surprise. “Since when does Beauty let you up for air so soon, lover-boy?”
“We got trouble, Boss,” Tomor replied gruffly, refusing to take the bait.
“You need quick transport away from some unspecified charges?”
“I said ‘we’, not ‘I’.”
“You couldn’t’ve gotten Beauty knocked up so soon,” Gage said with a smirk. “Well, you could’ve, but they wouldn’t know that for a couple of weeks.”
“Shut the fuck up and listen to me, Gage,” Rand growled.
The Haven dealer straightened. “Okay. Spill.”
“Did you know Lorelei’s got its own resha?”
“Now how would I know something like that? Unless s/he wanted a percentage of my profits…”
“It happens to be someone the Terrans know. Used to know. Someone Kam used to know real well, Boss.”
Gage leaned forward. “Oh?” he said, the one word doing nothing to mask his sudden, deadly serious interest.
“And it seems this resha is out for some kind of revenge. The Terrans want to know how to fight her, and I keep tellin’ ‘em I ain’t no priest.”
“How to fight a resha?” Gage said dubiously. “One Kam used to know?”
“It’s not Sela, Boss. Some bitch formerly named LiLing.”
“A Terran resha?”
“That’s what it looks like.”
“Devri!” Gage shuddered. “I’m on my way back, Tomor. I’ll bring some real muscle. Keep it cool till I get there. ETA about 24 hours.”
“Cool. That’s funny, Boss.”
Gage didn’t bother waiting for an explanation of the comment. He closed the comm link, then called to Rani, “Where’s Miss Monolem hanging out these days?”
“Trickster, there’s a call from the Leather for you,” came Eagle’s voice over the headset. Loki Monolem growled, then hit the accelerator on her tapestry. She’d been playing with the race, letting the other needles think they had a chance of winning, but now she sped ahead, returning to the Start/Finish coordinates of the orbit of the smaller moon of Stecher Prime well ahead of the pack.
There goes a couple hundred in side bets, she thought disgustedly as she spiraled the small craft down to the domed base that was this system’s Clave. The shield opened for her and she landed pinpoint, then got out of her needle to stride towards the hanger and its communications relay.
Eagle, the reigning King - hmmph, King! she snorted to herself. In her opinion, everyone after Kamikaze were only pretenders – grinned at her, motioning her to the terminal that held her call. She pulled off her helmet, shaking out her short, layered hair.
“What the scab do you want, Gage?” she snapped.
The face on the screen wasn’t wearing the usual, casual Haven imperturbability. “Dek vakesh zevran,” he said formally.
Loki started. That was a traditional phrasing, one only used when acknowledging the priesthood of one of Haven’s deities. It translated loosely as “it is my honor to be of service” and required the utmost attention of the priest/ess being addressed. To her memory, Gage had never used it before – and certainly not with her.
“Saford’s Hell, what happened?” she answered.
Daffy and Pavel had fallen asleep together after a very brief shower. The room’s artificial illumination had been dimmed, the heavy curtains drawn across the panoramic windows to shut out the light of the day. Sulu sat in the near-darkness, unable stop the memories playing in his head. He’d damned himself a thousand times over, nearly as vehemently as he had when he’d come to his senses nearly two years before. The fact that he couldn’t, of course, have possibly known this sort of thing would happen – or was even possible – didn’t matter one little bit to his sense of guilt and remorse. He didn’t really much care what would happen to him – he deserved any and every hell the combined deities of the universe could come up with – but Jilla didn’t. She’s innocent, it was all my doing, my stupidity, my evil! he cried silently. It isn’t right that she suffers for it!
Of course it is, a cool voice snarled in his head. She’s the source of the Bond. If she hadn’t agreed to her mad-scientist husband’s genetic tampering, she’d be safely in the bastard’s arms in her wonderful Indiian Court.
And she was supposed to know that McCoy would come up with a miracle cure, and that I’d be the first emotion she sensed, and that that would set the Bond within us both?
Not within you both, you moron. You would have survived just fine. Li’s sort of proof of that isn’t she?
Sulu got up, pacing as if he could walk away from the cold drawl.
None of that matters. She was dying even then, and it’s my fault.
And speaking of dying, did you really believe that innocent little ‘I did not murder’ act she pulled?
If she says she didn’t…
And Vulcans are always so precise with their words, aren’t they?
And I don’t care even if she did. It’s her right, it’s Indiian law…
And Vulcan possessiveness. Since when did you come to accept being someone’s possession? Oh, wait, you’ve done that before, haven’t you?
Sulu shuddered, blocking the memories. The last thing he needed was to think about the Clave and parties and Cal…
Freedom, excess, sensual games and wild, erotic pleasure. You’re on Lorelei. What better time to think about it?
“Shut up,” Sulu moaned softly.
And what did the staid, jacketed little Russian fool say about what Her Divinity wants?
Sulu froze.
Go back to the casino, lose yourself in all that luck. Hell, find that eager little Cygnian – or any of a thousand other willing beings. Li may not be able to take physical form, but she’s resha. She’ll drink in whatever goes on in her world. That’s what she wants, boy. That’s what she craves, what she needs, why she wants you here. Because, really, Kam, who can show her a better time than us?
No. He clenched his left hand, digging his nails into his palm, rubbing the fingers of his right hand over the silver band on his ring finger.
The voice inside him sighed. Oh please, you know you’ll give in eventually. Why not make it easier on everybody?
No!
So we have to do this the hard way? I’d have thought that all those years of ‘relax, accept, endure’ would have made a stronger impression on you.
“NO!”
His hand came down on the table, making the ornate, decorative vase which was on it jump and fall to the carpeted floor with a crash.
“Sulu, are you all right?” came Chekov’s voice from the round bed as he jerked awake. Daffy, too, sat up, startled by the noise.
“No, I’m not fucking all right!” came the helmsman’s anguished answer from somewhere in the dark. “I’m a fucking prisoner of a fucking vindictive bitch and my wife’s fucking dying on the Enterprise and there’s not a fucking thing I can do about it!”
The navigator started to get up, but Daffy pushed past him. She was wearing one of the bathrobes provided by the hotel and she said “Quarter lights,” as she quickly crossed the room to pull Sulu into an embrace.
“It’s all right, bubee, “ she soothed. “We’re here, and Jilla’s in good hands.”
Sulu stood stiffly, not returning the friendly gesture. Chekov, wearing the other bathrobe, walked quickly to the wet bar. He poured a glass of the first bottle he found and brought it to his helm partner.
“Here, drink this,” he stated.
Sulu took the glass, downing its contents without looking at it. Daffy took an uneasy step away from him. “I’ve got some Rigellian in my purse in our room,” she said. “Let me go get it and I’ll be…”
“You do?” Pavel asked, turning to her. She made a face.
“We’re on Lorelei.”
Pavel scowled and she gave Sulu a ‘what are we gonna do with this nebbish?’ look. When the helmsman didn’t react, she shrugged. “I won’t be a minute,” she said, and went to the bathroom to dress. When she came back into the main room, Sulu was downing another drink.
“Hey, be careful with the booze,” she murmured to Pavel. “The last thing we need is to have him drunk and irritable.”
“But if he can be drunk and passed out…” the Russian whispered back.
“Better he be stoned and passed out,” she countered, and gave him a quick kiss before leaving the penthouse.
Chekov sighed, and steered Sulu to sit on the bed, “Talk to me, my friend,” he said. “It will do you good.”
“What’s there to talk about?” Sulu replied dully. “There’s nothing I can do. She’s a fucking goddess, there’s no way around that. I’m gonna give in eventually, we both know it. What’s the point in delaying the inevitable?”
“Sulu, don’t talk like that,” Chekov said sternly. “It’s only been an hour, two at most. Surely you can give the Captain and the others more time than…”
“For what? Jilla’s going to die, Pav, she’s going to die! It may take weeks or even months, and she’ll be fading the whole time, suffering, empty…” He shuddered, then a hoarse bark of laughter came from his lips. “While I roll in luxury and decadence and sensuality…”
“No, that will not happen,” Chekov stated. “Daphne and I won’t let it happen. You’ll stay here with us, and we’ll pass the time until…”
“You don’t understand,” Sulu returned, and the edge in his voice was as sharp as a blade. “You can’t stay awake forever.”
“Daphne and I will take turns, if necessary…”
“I can overpower either one of you. And I will. When the need gets too strong…” He shuddered again. “And that will happen, too,” he rasped. “Just like on Dreamland.”
Chekov bit his lip. He didn’t really know what had happened to Sulu while they were with the Edenites, he’d had his own problems. But he remembered Daffy’s reactions after they’d returned to the Enterprise, and her words: Sulu’s ‘not-so-usual-for-him-anymore evil yet delicious and irresistible manner.’ “Listen, bubee, he was into sado-masochistic games, and bondage and discipline.” And he recalled Sulu’s own self-description: “I’m a cruel, heartless, bastard of a whore.”
“But you won’t be taking any chemicals here, Sulu,” he promised. “Whatever they make you do…”
Sulu’s snort made him blush.
“All right, so perhaps they don’t make you, but whatever darkness they release, it won’t happen. We won’t let it.”
“I’d like to see you try to stop it,” the helmsman muttered.
“No,” Pavel replied, shaking his head. “I don’t think you would.” Sulu’s head came up, glancing sharply at the navigator. For a moment, Pavel felt like he always had when Noel DelMonde would stare at him – like there was something crawling inside his brain – and he shook it off.
“The point is, Sulu, that we’re here to help you resist temptation. And that is just what we’re going to do.”
Sulu looked away, and Chekov sighed and placed his arm around his partner’s shoulder. There was really nothing else he could do.
When Daffy returned, it was with not only her purse, but their luggage as well. “I called the desk, she said, “and paid for the day in the other room – for which I expect to be reimbursed,” she added pointedly.
Before Pavel could open his mouth, Sulu said wearily, “Done, Daffy.”
“You don’t need to…” the Russian began.
“Yes, I do. This is all my fault.” Then he gave a snort of bitter laughter. “Besides, it’s not like I can’t afford it.”
Daffy shrugged a ‘well, it’s true’ at Pavel, and he sighed, nodding. She crossed to the bed, taking out a pipe and efficiently loading it, then lit it and inhaled deeply. She handed it to Sulu, then said, “Go unpack, bubee,” to Chekov. He rose and did as she’d requested, hearing the soft murmur of her voice, though it was too quiet for him to make out what she was saying.
When he went to put things in the closet, he stopped, seeing Jilla’s dresses hanging there. “Sulu,” he called, “should I contact the ship to beam Jilla’s things up to …” He realized what he was saying as Sulu’s head jerked up, the look of lost anguish clear.
“Smooth, Pavel, real smooth,” Daffy commented.
“Well, when this is all settled, they certainly won’t be coming back here,” he replied defensively.
“True, but maybe a bit with the insensitive?” Gollub returned.
“No, he’s right,” Sulu said. “It’s just that – I’m never going to see her again and…”
“Oh no, none of that,” the chemist ordered. “There will be no hopeless shit, here, boychik. No fondling of Jilla’s clothes and getting them all stained with tears and snot.” Sulu’s eyes were bleak when he looked at her, but there was the beginning of a smile pulling at his lips.
“Snot?” he asked.
“When people cry, their noses tend to run,” she explained. “Or is it somehow different with hot shit Clavist royalty?”
“Let’s not mention the Clave, huh, Daf?”
She took the pipe back from him, inhaling the aromatic smoke, then gave it back and stood. “So, we’re all just gonna ignore the elephant in the room, are we? Not talk about Kam’s deep dark past? Just pretend we haven’t been thinking about it since we got here?”
“There’s no need to talk about it,” Sulu muttered. “I’m well aware what I’m capable of.”
“Mr. Purposefully-Ignorant-Of-All-That-Horrible-Decadence isn’t,” the chemist declared. “And he needs to be, Sulu. He really, really needs to be.” Her hands went to her hips. “Don’t you think?”
“Why?” was the tired response.
“So. He. Can. Stop. It,” Daffy enunciated.
“How. Likely. Is. That?” Sulu returned, just as pointedly, his voice a mocking sneer.
Daffy gestured flamboyantly. “Pavel Chekov, say hello to Kam.”
The navigator blinked, and Sulu sighed.
“Just leave it…” he began.
“You tell him, Sulu, or I will,” she promised. “And I won’t be delicate about it.”
“And I suppose you think I will be?” came the dark reply.
“No,” Gollub stated. “And that’s what I’m counting on.”
Ruth sat cross-legged on her bed, next to Jilla, who was curled in a most un-Jilla-like position, her knees up and hugged tightly to her chest. The Indiian had changed from the robe Spock had brought her into a pair of work coveralls, far warmer than a uniform would have been. Even in the increased temperature of the cabin, she was still shivering. Spock was at the desk, calling up every reference the Federation had on the religious beliefs of its newest member. It had been decided between them that Jilla was not going to be left alone, despite the interruption of their planned leave.
“We’ll find a way out of this, Jilla,” Ruth said with a great deal more confidence than she felt.
“That – woman – cannot be a goddess,” Jilla returned, the anger clear in her tone. “Dead Terrans do not become deities.”
“Go argue that one with Cobra,” Ruth muttered. When Jilla didn’t reply, the Antari sighed, and reached out, touching her arm in sympathetic support. “Gage will be here by morning,” she said. “We’ll have more information then, and we can…”
“My wife, a moment?” Spock’s voice interrupted. Ruth unfolded her legs and rose, crossing the cabin to him.
“What’s up, Boss?” she said softly.
Spock pointed at the screen, and Ruth read the sentences he indicated. It was from Jade Han’s cultural report on Haven spirituality:
“It is a curious fact that, among all the member systems of the Federation, there is only one race which professes a truly monotheistic belief: the Antaris and their Creatrix, Zahara. With the inclusion of the Havani, that number doubles, for while the concepts of Haven religion are often rendered into Anglo as including tutelary and other minor ‘gods’ (notably Kenesh and Kenesha), and even an opposing ‘god’ (Saford), there is only one deity who is actually worshipped, and that is Devri. In their native tongue, these other beings are never referred to as divine. To further this fascinating coincidence (see “Similarities Between Havani and Koltiri”), the Antari deity is female, and the Haven is male. What this says about the connection between the races has yet to be fully explored.”
Ruth scowled. “Bullshit,” she said succinctly. “Tomor called the bitch a goddess.”
“And he spoke in Anglo but for the word, ‘resha’,” Spock countered, and called up another page:
“…Havani words are "big" (or: "rich", "expensive"), and are difficult to translate into most common Federation languages. Any attempt to make a simple one-word for one-word mapping is going to leave out most of the intended richness. Take, for example, one of the most important and "expensive" words in the Havani tongue, a word which is central to Havani thought and culture, a word which defines the goals, hopes, and purposes of Havani life. That word, usually misunderstood through being oversimplified, is always translated into Anglo as "profit". The word, in Havani, is resh.
Other Federation peoples almost always think of "profit" in financial terms; and, when speaking in a non-Havani language, the Havens follow suit, because that provides a convenient system of metaphors. But it might actually be better to think of resh as dreams, or goals, or whatever-it-is that matters to you most. If you seek knowledge, your profit might be in obtaining college degrees. If you crave popularity, your profit might lie in acquiring friends. If you're a spiritual person, your profit becomes contact with your gods. Resh is always measured in concrete credits, but that, too, is no more than useful metaphor. In actual coin, how much is a friend, or a religious experience, worth to you? For which would you pay more? The answers to such questions will reveal how much you truly value these things, as compared to, say, a home or a night on the town…
…In the Havani language, there is an important suffix which is the opposite of the Anglo possessive. In Anglo, the possessive suffix (-'s) indicates the owner of a thing – the place I sleep, for example, is "Dr. Han's bed". In Havani, the possessed suffix (-a) is added to the thing owned rather than to the owner. To mangle our languages together, expressing "Dr. Han's bed" with Havani syntax would yield "beda Dr. Han". (This suffix is always stressed – it would be pronounced bed-AH, not BED-ah.)
Thus, the Havani word for the shadowy possessors, owners, and arbiters of divine profit, semi-mythical beings who may or may not actually exist – perhaps spirits, perhaps gods, perhaps, like the Bavarian Illuminati, just a rumor on the wind – they who control the destinies, lives, and fates of individuals, peoples, and worlds – they are called, resha.”
“Didn’t she just contradict herself?” Ruth commented, folding her arms.
“She is, in the second excerpt, attempting to use language that will inform and resonate with the reader,” Spock answered. “Most Federation races would have a difficult time understanding the concept of resha if it were not presented as being divine.”
“Well, it seems like a lot of uninformed speculation to me,” Ruth returned.
“But assuming for the moment that it is accurate,” Spock went on, “the clear inference is that the former LiLing has become, with the influence of the Seeders, the keeper of all the decadent ‘profit’ that is the essence of Lorelei. And that, my wife, makes a frightening kind of sense.” His voice powered. “As does the idea that Sulu ‘belongs’ to such profit.”
Ruth set her jaw, shaking her head stubbornly. “No. He’s not…”
“Ruth – he keeps it in strict check and that is a thing much to be admired. To deny it only trivializes his strength and control.”
Ruth shuddered, remembering Sulu’s anguished confession after breaking off his affair with LiLing. And there was what Del had called The Divine Wind, the sensual, hedonistic, selfish being that had taken him on Dreamland Base. That, coupled with all the rumors of his Clavist past – things even Jeremy Paget never denied….
“Oh god, we’re in more trouble than I thought,” Ruth whispered.