Return to Valjiir Stories
Uhura was woken by the sound of the intercom next to her bed. She rolled away from Tomor and pressed the switch to answer, while leaving the video blank.
“Uhura here,” she answered.
“Miss Uhura, the Leather has arrived,” Spock’s voice said. “Will you and Mr. Rand come to my office?”
“Right away, sir,” she replied and closed the link, turning to Tomor who was turning to her.
“We got time for a quickie?” the Haven rumbled seductively.
“Depends,” the communications officer returned with a sensual smile. “How long do you want to keep the Ambassador and his ‘real muscle’ waiting?”
Tomor growled, but threw back the blankets and got out of the small bed. Then he paused. “If we shower together it’ll be quicker,” he suggested.
Uhura grinned at his naked body. “No, it wouldn’t,” she promised.
“Suit yourself, Beauty,” he shrugged and as he moved toward the door that led to the head, Uhura debated calling him back, then sighed and rose herself, starting to comb out her tangled hair.
After her own shower, she put on her uniform, despite Tomor’s scowl of disapproval and several more abortive attempts at belaying the point of showering. She couldn’t help but wonder how much of Tomor’s blatancy was his usual manner, her attractiveness, or some hidden reluctance to face Lane Gage’s ‘muscle.’ All she knew for certain was that she wasn’t at all eager for the meeting.
Spock had stayed at his research all night. Ruth and Jilla hadn’t slept either, but had spent the time quietly talking – though truth be told, Ruth did most of it. Jilla was withdrawn and uncharacteristically both sharp and sullen. It made the Antari wonder if, unlike before, rather than fade, the Indiian would shrivel up into a bitter dylithium icicle. There was a hardness in her grey eyes that made Ruth more than uncomfortable, for it reminded her too much of the moment on the Bridge nearly two years before when Jilla had proclaimed that “She will accept judgment before another day is out.” She had called up the day’s first cups of coffee – with herbal tea for Spock – when the communications terminal beeped.
“Enterprise, Spock here,” her husband answered.
“I’m here and I’ve got a priestess with me,” came the terse voice of Lane Gage. “And the temperature on my boat is dropping like a bear market. Can we beam over or what?”
“Of course, Ambassador,” Spock replied. “My thanks for your rapid response.”
Jilla was already getting off the bed and heading for the door when Spock turned to her.
“She’s going to the transporter room,” Ruth said softly.
Spock nodded. “Mrs. Majiir will escort you to my office as soon as transport is complete,” he said, and switched off the comm. Ruth moved to stand beside the desk at which he sat.
“A Haven priestess,” she murmured. “I don’t think I’ve ever met one.”
“She will most likely be as impressed with meeting an Antari priestess,” the Vulcan returned. He let his hand briefly touch her arm. “How is Jilla?”
Ruth shook her head. “Shutting down, but not like before,” she answered. “It’s like she’s contracting, almost like a…”
“Star before going nova,” Spock finished.
Ruth frowned, though her eyes acknowledged the reference. “But I think she’s gonna pass the exploding part and get straight to the dwarfing stage.”
“Not good, my wife,” the Vulcan murmured.
“No. Not good at all.”
Jilla did her best to keep the ice from her expression as she worked the transporters controls. It was a far different kind of cold than that which had so recently imprisoned her. This was born of righteous indignation and the touch of emotion that she knew came from Aema – for though she herself was no longer under the Goddess’ watchful eye, the strictures of Her people’s one sacrosanct were. Once Sulu had accepted Aema’s Judgment, the life of the one who had dishonored his vow was forfeit. To find – that one – in a position of honor and power was more than the Indiian Soul could bear.
The two Havens who materialized both wore dark clothing. Jilla, of course, knew the ambassador, but she had never seen the woman before. Her clothing was skimpy pieces of leather and lacing, and Jilla found herself wondering if it was a traditional garment for the priestesses of Haven.
Lane Gage stepped down from the platform and gave her a grim smile. “My condolences, Lady Takeda,” he said.
Jilla nodded, then shivered as her inner chill intensified. The Haven woman hissed, “Stop that!” and the sense of cold retreated – but didn’t disappear. Then she, too, turned a sober smile on the Indiian.
“You must be Jilla,” she said. “I’m Loki Monolem.”
The name was one Jilla recognized, though it had never been used in any religious context. Loki Monolem was a Clavist, a long-time friend of both Sulu and Ruth. “You are a priestess?” the Indiian blurted out.
Loki shrugged. “Yeah, well, it’s a living.”
“Not a good one,” Gage added, “which is why she doesn’t banter it around.”
Loki scowled at him and it was his turn to shrug. “Where’s Ka – I beg your pardon, Sulu?” he asked.
“The one who calls herself a resha has coerced him into remaining on Lorelei,” Jilla answered, her voice almost as cold as the room.
“Saford’s Hell,” Loki sighed.
“Well, let’s go talk to the Head Honcho,” Gage said, and bowed toward Jilla. “If you’d show us the way, Lady?”
Jilla set the controls at norm, then gestured toward the door. “This way Mr. Ambassador, Miss – is there a correct title, Miss Monolem?”
“Loki will do,” the woman replied.
Gage snorted, but said nothing further.
Tomor and Uhura arrived at Spock’s office at the same time Ruth and Spock did. Spock was in uniform, Ruth in the white halter and long skirt that was the usual off-world outfit for a keheil. Tomor whistled, impressed, from around his ever-present cigar.
“Hot shit, Spike,” he commented.
“I figured it was appropriate, since Gage is bringing a priestess…” Ruth began.
Rand straightened. “Priestess?” he repeated.
The Antari’s eyebrows lowered. “You’re the one who kept repeating you weren’t a priest….”
“Real muscle. Shit, I should’ve guessed…” The large Haven shook his head, but he was grinning. “Thanks for making sure we weren’t late, Beauty,” he said to Uhura.
Uhura glanced at Ruth, who shrugged back.
The four had enough time to take seats in the small office before Jilla arrived, and all immediately rose again when she ushered the Ambassador and the priestess in before her. Uhura blinked at this uncommon courtesy from Tomor, but was interrupted in her reaction when Ruth burst out, “Willow?!?!”
The slender, scantily-dressed Haven woman smiled and moved forward, taking Ruth’s shoulders, giving her a chaste kiss on the cheek.
“Dek vakesh zevran, Keheil,” she murmured, but there was a teasing tone to her voice.
The Antari gaped and Uhura noted Tomor meeting Gage’s eyes with a shared smirk.
“Loki Monolem,” Gage said, “meet Captain Spock and Miss Uhura. Spocko, Beauty, this is Vakesha La’okei.” The Haven woman turned to him with a warning frown and he merely folded his arms. “It’s official,” was his only response.
“What did he call her?” Uhura murmured. Tomor lowered his head.
“Priestess,” he replied.
“And the ‘La’okei?”
Rand shrugged. “It’s how her name is pronounced in…”
“Shut up, Tomor,” Loki Monolem said pleasantly, then stood, waiting as Ruth recovered her voice.
At last, the Antari managed to close her mouth and swallow. “How did… when did…” she began.
“Not even close to the way you did,” Loki offered. “We of the vakeshra have infinite respect for the trials of our sisters.”
Spock’s eyebrow rose on the word, and Ruth flushed.
“Shall we get to business, people?” Gage put in.
Kam made his way back to his place at the poker table and the two waiting professionals. As he retook his seat – and the young, eager woman returned to her position on his lap – he let his head drop back and his eyes fall half shut. The casino lights dimmed to amber. Everything and everyone had an appetizing golden glow. He fed on the buzz of energy around him, savoring the knowledge that he was the absolute center of attention in the room. Desire, anger, jealousy, fear, frustration, arousal… Every emotion on the floor of the casino traced inexorably back to him. They were all prancing puppets dancing for his entertainment as he carelessly pulled the strings.
The male pro leaned down to whisper eagerly in his ear. “What will it take to get you to invite me upstairs?”
Upstairs. The chill of memory closed around Kam’s golden satisfaction. He let the screams of the ghosts of the past wash over him like the bracing cold of an ocean wave early in the morning.
“Upstairs?” he repeated, letting the word become unspeakably obscene. “You mean to the penthouse?”
He saw young man’s face flicker. To be a good whore, you had to be able to read a trick – know when the job was going to get rough, know how to weigh the risk versus the payoff – and this boy was undoubtedly a very good whore.
The pro licked his lips. “Yes, sir,” he purred. “I wanna go to the penthouse.”
Kam smiled without letting the expression reach his eyes. He held out his hand. “Take off your shirt.”
He felt the girl in his lap tense as the boy made a show of stripping off his top and presenting it. It didn’t take a pro to realize that the competition to see who was going to end up with the lion’s share of the chips on the table was reaching endgame.
Kam squeezed her breast to let her know her turn was coming before taking the boy’s shirt in both hands. The material looked like leather but ripped into strips like silk. The pro’s smile didn’t fade. There was enough money on the table to pay for more shirts than he’d wear in twenty years.
“Turn around,” Kam ordered. “Cross your wrists.”
He tied the knots tight enough to warn the boy that yes, this job was going to be rough – just as rough as he was imagining… and then some.
“Kneel,” Kam commanded, his anticipation making his tone pleasant.
The gag he tied was another warning, another promise.
“Forehead to the floor.” Without waiting to see that he was being obeyed, he turned to the girl in his lap, drinking in the reactions of all those around him. “What about you?” He put his arm back around her. “Do you want to come to the penthouse, too?”
She smiled automatically, but didn’t answer.
Her fear pleased him. A whore who had lost all sense of self-preservation was useless to him.
“Take off the dress,” he instructed, knowing that the piles of chips on the table was inevitably going to tip the scales in his favor. “Kneel and cross your wrists behind you.”
To an observer, the darting glances of the woman might have been too quick to be readable. To Kam’s practiced eye, however, they were so predictable that they seemed to play out in slow motion with comic opera obviousness – the look to the table, the quick calculation to make sure that her take was going to be enough to cover any medical expenses not in her contract and still be profitable, the check with the dealer to make sure the floor manager was going to allow a public striptease for this trick…
He was about to get bored with the whole thing by the time the pro smiled and reached back to unfasten her collar.
Just when everything was on the verge of becoming a dreary foregone conclusion, he was rescued.
He could feel Chekov and Daffy before he could see or hear them. Their odd mixture of sexual satisfaction and pure panic glittered garishly in the dull amber of the casino floor.
Daffy began talking too loud and too fast, saying things like, “Hope you enjoyed the show, folks! It’s past Mr. Lucky’s bedtime, though. Don’t miss the 10:00 performance tomorrow!” and distributing his chips liberally.
Chekov immediately went to the male pro. He struggled with bindings around the boy toy’s wrists for a moment, then, like a young Alexander, he borrowed a knife from one of the servers and cut the knots. The chemist gave both of the pros a large enough stack of chips to make their relief unalloyed with any regret.
“Bitch,” Kam sighed. He couldn’t be too angry, though. His rescuers were like a breath of fresh air. Professionals were serviceable, but amateurs were always better for what he had in mind.
“Come, Sulu.” Chekov was pulling at his arm and calling him by the wrong name on purpose. “We have to go.”
Kam let his head drop back and smiled at the Russian. “Where do you wanna go?”
The navigator blinked. “Upstairs.”
“You want to go to the penthouse, too, do you?” he said, letting his voice go low and dark. “What are you willing to do to get an invitation?”
“I don’t need an invitation,” Chekov replied, trying once more to get him to rise while Daffy cashed out his remaining chips. “I am already your guest.”
“Oh? So you’ve accepted my invitation of your own free will?” Kam asked, amused that to Sulu’s brain he sounded like a character from fiction – Dracula. That pleased him. A vampire. It seemed appropriate. The King of the Vampires.
“Please, Sulu,” the Russian was saying, pulling on his arm. “We should go.”
Kam reached out and grabbed a handful of Chekov's shirt. He enjoyed the look and feel of the navigator’s surprise as he jerked him down and into a deep kiss. Yes, he thought, drinking in the Russian’s futile resistance, much better than a pro. After all, what better feast for the King of the Vampires than a stupid, horny virgin?
There was something, he noted as he continued to hold the struggling navigator in place, oddly unexpected about Chekov… A coolness… Not at all like the ice-diamond chill of Lorelei… Cool and profoundly quiet… Like looking down an infinitely deep well… Like floating suspended above a black hole… Something was making him think about the time Sulu had a fever and his mother had kept his room dark, given him bitter tea to drink, and put damp towels on his head…. Cool… Dark…Welcoming… Silence…
Why am I kissing Chekov and thinking of my mother? Sulu asked himself.
Shut up, Kam ordered him, but the kiss was doing something to him. He was warm and drowsy now. The almost infinite hunger he’d felt only seconds ago was fading…. Couldn’t be the kiss, he decided. Kisses didn’t do that. The management must have put something in his drink. It vaguely pleased him that they were scared enough of him to try something stupid like that…
Chekov finally wrenched out of his grasp. “Sulu!” he protested, outraged.
“Guess you are his type after all,” Daffy quipped breezily, as she took the helmsman’s other arm.
“Where are we going?” Sulu asked, while Kam’s attention was not focused on keeping him quiet.
“A place with a much, much more select clientele than this,” the chemist assured him, as she and the navigator guided him towards the exit.
“Are you sure that’s wise?” Chekov asked, though his pace didn’t slacken.
“Oh, yes.” Daffy said, handing out more generous tips to casino personnel as they made their way through the crowd. “A very out of the way place that caters to a very select few.”
“I thought we were going to…” her lover began.
“Yes,” she interrupted, signaling the doorman to call them a shuttle as they approached. “A lovely little place where unattractive people argue about comparative literature and drink lots and lots of coffee...”
“Coffee?” Sulu repeated, brightening.
“Lots,” Gollub promised. “As strong and black as you want…We may even play a game of chess… or Go if things are really hopping…”
“It actually doesn’t sound that bad,” Chekov commented, as the doorman held open the door and pointed towards their transport with a more than obligatory smile on behalf of the management.
“Oh, yeah. It’ll be Thrillsville for you, bubee,” Gollub said dryly, then shivered. “Besides, this place has a definitely got a problem with their air conditioning…”
Kam laughed lazily and let himself be bundled into the shuttle and coaxed back behind thin shoji screens. It was only a matter of time before he’d be back…
“Perhaps it would be best to begin by giving me a brief history of Sulu’s association with Resha Lorelei,” Loki suggested once enough chairs had been brought to Spock’s office and everyone was seated. Spock took the seat behind his desk, with Jilla at its left end. The Indiian sat ramrod straight, her face set in rigid lines of anger. Ruth more or less leaned against the right side of the front of the desk, her arms folded, clearly uncomfortable. Tomor stood behind Uhura’s seat, his hands braced against the back of the chair. Loki sat directly in front of the desk, Gage behind her to her right, his legs stretched out in front of him.
“Approximately two years ago, Mr. Sulu had an unfortunate, illicit affair with the then-Ensign LiLing,” Spock said concisely.
“And lived,” Tomor put in, his tone suggesting both amazement and amusement. When Uhura frowned up at him, he said, “Hey, I know Indiian culture, Beauty.”
“Yes, and lived,” Spock confirmed, though he, too, was frowning.
Gage’s murmur of “Devritol” was so soft only Loki heard it.
“The relationship was only of three months or so in duration,” Spock continued, “after which he and Mrs. Majiir repaired and resumed theirs. Shortly thereafter, Miss LiLing was lost in an unfortunate transporter accident.”
“With the little silver lady at the controls, no doubt,” Tomor snorted. Jilla’s head snapped to him, her glare so fierce, he almost backed a step. “Apologies,” he added quickly.
“And she was acquitted of all responsibility for the incident,” Ruth put in with her own glare at the Haven security man.
“Was there a body to be recovered?” Loki rejoined, ignoring the interplay around her.
“The signal was lost in the process of beaming,” Spock answered. “We were at the time, testing newly-designed environ belts and hers had failed.”
Loki nodded thoughtfully. “I suspect, then, that she didn’t exactly die, as Terrans understand the concept.”
“What does that mean?” Jilla snapped. At the tone, Ruth winced and Spock’s eyebrow rose.
“That her spirit was not lost, or returned to the Terran ether or whatever you call it,” Loki explained calmly. “It was rescued, if you will, by those the Federation call the Seeders.”
“And what do you call them?” Ruth wanted to know.
Loki grinned. “That would be telling, Keheil.”
The Antari scowled. “Stop calling me that, Loki.”
The Haven woman shrugged. “Suit yourself, Spike.”
“Why would the Seeders do such a thing?” Jilla demanded.
“They obviously had a use for her,” was the enigmatic reply.
“As the guide and guardian of Lorelei’s profit,” Spock said.
“The man’s done his homework, Vakesha,” Gage said with an impressed grin.
“And stop calling her that,” Ruth told him.
The ambassador met her gaze calmly. “Why? That’s what she’s here for, yes?”
“If the title is important in this context, Mr. Ambassador…” Spock began.
Loki waved her hand dismissively. “Not really. Gage just likes to keep the roles straight. He thinks it means I won’t act as a Monolem in this matter.”
“If you’d acted like a Monolem a decade and a half ago…” Gage said.
“Let’s not bring that up, now, shall we?” she interrupted.
“Why not?” Tomor rumbled. “It does have a bearing on this…”
“Shut up, Tomor,” Loki warned.
“What has a bearing on…” Uhura put in.
“I’ll tell you later, Beauty,” Rand promised.
“No, you won’t,” Loki told him. The large Haven grinned at her.
“Neutral, remember, Loki?”
“It’s the CEO’s business, Rand.”
“And important here, Vakesha,” Gage rejoined, with a smile that was all teeth.
“Miss Monolem,” Spock broke in, “the salient question here is how we can release Mr. Sulu from the power of the spirit that holds him.”
Loki turned her attention to the Vulcan with a sigh. “Yes, well, that could be a problem.”
“Perhaps you’d better tell them why that is, Loki,” Gage suggested.
“Or perhaps we don’t need to know!” Ruth countered. “Just tell us what we need to do to get him back!”
“You have as yet given us no information which we did not already know,” Jilla added, her voice still sharp and icy. “Mr. Rand gave us to believe that a priestess of Haven would be of assistance.”
“Hey, all I said was I wasn’t a priest!” Tomor interjected.
“And the implication is then obvious,” Spock said.
Tomor frowned and Uhura said, “Well, it is, sugar.”
“Gage is the one who said he was bringing muscle,” he pointed out.
“Oh, for god’s sake, enough!” Ruth snapped. “Loki, can you reign in your resha or not?”
“It’s not a matter of reigning her in,” Loki explained. “It’s a matter of creating a deal she’ll go for.”
Gage snorted. “And what can you offer her that’s worth Kam?” he said.
“Why does she want him!” Jilla burst out, rising from her chair. “He cares nothing for her, he is Bonded to me, we are telmnori’im!” Her face was beginning to glow very brightly. “Does she think that corrupting his body will destroy his love for me?! Does she think it will destroy mine for him?! Does she think he and I will not face Judgment together, regardless of what she coerces him into?! Are your resha truly so blind, so stupid?!”
Loki stared up at the Indiian, her dark eyes wide with shock. Gage glanced at his fellow Haven, a look of ‘I told you so’ set clearly on his features. Spock was rising from his seat, Ruth having already pushed away from the desk, turning toward Jilla.
Tomor bent down. “Is this what you call going nova?” he whispered.
“Sugar,” Uhura whispered back, “you haven’t seen anything yet.”
It took several minutes to calm Jilla down, both Ruth and Spock speaking to her in quiet tones. Gage and Loki had their own hushed conversation, both Tomor and Uhura leaning in to eavesdrop.
“You’re gonna have to tell her, Loki,” Gage said.
Loki scowled. “She’s Indiian, Gage. She feels the truth, she doesn’t need details.”
“You just don’t want her righteous fury coming down on your ass,” the ambassador countered.
“And you don’t care about your own?”
“He didn’t even know her then. It doesn’t count. But what he is will.”
“And how exactly do you suggest I explain that, Dealer?”
Gage leaned back in his chair. “That’s your problem, Priestess.”
“State secrets,” Tomor explained to Uhura.
“Secrets of the priesthood, Enforcer,” Loki snapped at him. “Secrets of the Havani.”
“Which Spike won’t be too happy about, either,” Gage rejoined.
“What does Ruth have to do with…?” Uhura asked.
“Not Spike, per se,” Gage answered. “But the Koltiri…”
“And that’s her problem,” Loki muttered.
“Not if the Zehara gets involved,” Tomor grinned.
Loki ran her hand through her hair. “Saford’s Hell…. I didn’t think Kam would ever come here.”
Uhura blinked and Tomor snorted. “Sailors coming to Lorelei on leave,” he drawled. “Whoever would have predicted that?”
“Wait, “ Gage said, leaning forward again. “What do you mean I didn’t think Kam would ever come here?”
Loki sighed. “I just never figured – I mean he’s got the silver streak there and…”
“You knew?!” Gage’s voice was loud enough that Spock, Ruth and Jilla all turned to him.
“Oh shit,” Tomor murmured.
“Knew what?” Ruth demanded.
Uncharacteristically, Loki was flushed.
“Scab, woman, you knew?!” Gage repeated.
Ruth stared at Loki, then grit her teeth, told her training to shut up, and picked the information from the Haven’s mind, sending it immediately to Spock.
“She knew,” she stated flatly, though her purple eyes were blazing.
“Miss Monolem, you have known for over a year that this vengeful spirit was lying in wait for…” Spock began.
“And here it comes,” Uhura whispered to Tomor.
With an incoherent shriek, Jilla threw herself at the Haven priestess. Tomor moved rapidly, intercepting the Indiian’s lunge, actually picking her up off the floor, holding her by the waist. She writhed and struggled in his grip, and he grunted.
“Strong little thing,” was his only comment.
“Yes, I’ve known about Resha Lorelei for some time,” Loki admitted, trying to regain her composure. “But as I said, I never thought Sulu would….”
“Really stupid, Loki,” Ruth snarled.
“Especially considering what – who Kam is,” Gage put in, not at all helpfully. “You of all people should’ve known he’d be drawn here like the proverbial moth to a…”
“Vakesha, Spock interrupted with quiet force, “I think you had best tell us all you know of this.”
“That, Captain Spock, is going to be a long, long story,” Loki sighed.
It was. Loki first tried to explain in vague and unsubstantial terms which Spock answered with pointed questions. Ruth went from increasingly fierce to increasingly uncomfortable. Tomor had put Jilla down, but kept a firm grip on her arm. Gage had risen to stand next to Uhura, offering his own commentary.
“There are many things about Havani religion that I’m not at liberty to discuss,” Loki began.
“I’ll bet,” Ruth muttered.
“But suffice it to say that Devri has what you would call a close connection to the Seeders.”
“In what way, Miss Monolem?” Spock asked.
“Uh… sort of familial.”
“Right, Devri is a Seeder,” Ruth snorted.
“I didn’t say that,” Loki corrected.
“What are you saying, Miss Monolem?” Spock reiterated.
“That I’m not going to say any more than that,” the Haven declared. “At least not about Devri.” She took a deep breath. “At any rate, it’s the Seeders who decide where and when resha are needed and they – look for – compatible spirits.”
“We had already deduced why this particular spirit would be a fit with the nature of Lorelei profit,” Spock told her.
“Yeah, so what does Roy have to do with it?” Ruth demanded. She heard and ignored Tomor’s snort – but couldn’t quite do the same for the sudden feeling of grief that came from Jilla.
She knows all of him, Dei’larr’ei, Spock murmured soothingly, and Ruth nodded, swallowing.
“Well… I’ve known Sulu for quite a long time,” Loki admitted. “And there are certain – factions – on Haven that consider him to be somewhat – more – than your average Terran.”
That elicited a growl from Gage.
“More how?” Spock questioned.
“That gets into the nature of Havani religion….”
“Don’t tell me,” Ruth said scornfully. “They think he’s a resha.”
“Not – precisely…” Loki hesitated. “They think he has certain – potentials…”
“Which you crapped out on fifteen years ago,” Gage snapped.
Loki glared at him. “That’s not germane to this discussion, Gage.”
“Indeed?” Spock shot back. “I would think, Miss Monolem, that if Haven had an interest in Mr. Sulu that long ago, any failures or perceived failures on your part would be quite pertinent to this discussion.”
Gage gave a smug smile and Loki flushed again.
“What in heaven’s name are you talking about?” Uhura stated.
“Tell them, Priestess,” Gage urged nastily. “Tell them about Kenesh.”
“Okay, you can just shut the fuck up now!” Loki returned hotly.
“Kenesh?” Spock asked sharply.
“Shit fuck hell damn!” Loki spat.
“Let’s just calm down now, people,” Tomor put in. “Spock, Spike, Beauty – “ He glanced down at Jilla, “Mrs. Majiir…” He took a breath. “This is gettin’ way too far into things Havens consider proprietary information. Loki’s here to help, not to breach all our contracts.” He turned to his fellow Havens. “Gage, I know how you feel, but keep your damn mouth shut. Miss Monolem, give ‘em the amicus version.”
“Devri take all enforcers,” Gage muttered.
Tomor showed his teeth. “You won’t be saying that a week from now, Boss.”
What Loki revealed in her brief explanation was astounding. In Havani myth, there were two important ‘prophets’ of Devri, twin incarnations who were referred to as Kenesh and Kenesha. Kenesh was a male essence, empathic, intuitive, very good at reading motivation and presenting a deal in the light best accepted by all parties. Kenesha, the female, was very sexual, what Terrans would call excessive and deviant. Havens, of course, didn’t consider this a bad or judgmental thing. There was also a third concept, called Saford, but acknowledged by Havens not to be an actual being, more of a personification of the concept of chaos and disorder. Among the Havani, Saford was a liar and a cheat, not exactly a welsher because anyone who makes deals with someone known to lie and cheat is just asking for it.
“Certain Havani resha,” Loki concluded, “ have been – uh – searching for the latest incarnations for many centuries. There was some speculation.” When she didn’t say anything more, Spock, Ruth and Uhura all exchanged bewildered, beginning-to-be overawed glances. Jilla looked to be in an absolute state of shock.
“Are you suggesting that – Resha Lorelei – might be the incarnation of…?” Spock began.
“Oh Devri no!” Loki almost spat. “If she’s anything, she’s possessed by Saford!”
Jilla’s disconcerted expression was replaced by one of unqualified agreement.
“So…” Ruth said slowly, “you are suggesting that Sulu is….”
“Only that there was some speculation,” Loki quickly returned.
“And if there had been any truth to it, she fucked it up beyond all repair!” Gage snapped.
“Not relevant,” Tomor growled.
“Not relevant?” Gage repeated. “Not relevant?! If she’d done her job instead of being so all-fucking scared of that mother-fucking sick-fuck…!”
“Shut up, Boss, I mean it,” Tomor rumbled.
“The point is that because of the – possibility – Resha Lorelei will demand a replacement of greater value,” Loki interjected. “And that, my friends, is not something I can just conjure up out of thin air.”
There was silence for several minutes: Uhura and Ruth stunned, Gage fuming, Tomor patiently holding onto an increasingly agitated Jilla, Spock alternately staring at Loki and Ruth with deliberate consideration.
At last, Spock said, “Vakesha, Keheil, I believe this merits a call for divine intervention.”
Both Ruth and Loki’s heads whipped around to him. “What?!?” they said in unison.
“You are both priestesses of the only known truly monotheistic deities,” he said calmly. “There are similarities between your people that cannot, by all logic, be coincidental. We know the Seeders exist, we know them to be involved with guiding the evolution of species. We also know that they are directly involved in this situation. Therefore it is reasonable that you and your God and Goddess – who are in familial relationship with the Seeders – work together to solve this crisis.”
“Hey, I never said anything about Z and Seeders…” Ruth protested.
“Oh give it up, Spike,” Loki sighed. “He’s got us dead to rights.”