There was a sudden blinding shimmer, the room’s temperature plunging, and when the vision of those in Spock’s office cleared, there was a tall, slender, breathtakingly beautiful woman standing before Jilla. She wore a suit of metallic silver, her long hair snowy white, her large eyes silver, her skin pale pearlescent.

“Ilne?” Spock managed, nearly breathless.

The Silmaril nodded to him. “Greetings, Spock. I am pleased to see there was no permanent damage from our unfortunate encounter.”

“That was over five standard years ago,” Spock returned, his voice cutting off as if he would have added a title if he knew the correct one to give.

The being smiled. “Time passes very swiftly for us,” she said. Her gaze swept over Ruth and Loki. “I convey the messages of our Mother and Father to you, my sisters. La’okei, I am to give you His thanks for bringing to Him a situation that gave Him reason to again contact Mother, one that would compel Her to respond. And Raw-eth, She bids me remind you of Her words regarding a mystery.” She glanced at Gage, and simply smiled. “You give much, Lah’nei, and Father does not forget.” At last, she turned her eyes to Jilla. “Child of my children’s children, I beg your pardon and that of your Sad Mother. We had no idea our – decision – would cause such disruption.” She smiled. “Forgive us, we are not all seeing. There are times when our long vision obscures the nearer, and our own needs eclipse those of the Greater Good. It has been amply demonstrated that our choice for Resha Lorelei has far too much connection to her former existence – and perhaps to that which the Havani call Saford – to be of ultimate assistance to us.”

“I told you so, “ Loki whispered to no one in particular.

The Silmaril ignored it. “Therefore, under the dual authority of our Mother and Father,” she continued, “we will remove her from her position. She will be relegated to her proper place within the cosmic order and accept Judgment under the laws of the Sad Mother.” Ilne smiled softly at Jilla. “Will that suffice, my many times great grand-daughter?”

Jilla’s eyes were wide, her amazement and wonder clear on her face. “Asi, Tayama,” she managed.

“Then let it be done.” The Silmaril raised her hands, her great eyes closing – then, as those around her held their breaths in anticipation, she simply vanished.

After a long silence, Gage said, “What no smoke, no bang, no brilliant flash of light?”

Loki hit him.

“Was that…?” Jilla began in breathless awe.

“A Seeder,” Spock confirmed. “One who has visited the Enterprise before.”

“Lucky you,” Loki murmured.

“So is that it? Is it done? Can we bring Roy home now?” Ruth asked.

Spock looked at her with clear bemusement. “If you would be so good as to confirm it with the Zehara, my wife?”

Ruth flushed. “Oh. Yeah,” she said, and closed her eyes.

Z?

Yes, it’s done. You know how you can thank me.

I’m not ready for…

Oh for my sake, ani Ramy, I meant keep your hybrid mouth shut!

About what?

The answers to your inquisitive husband’s inevitable questions.

The Seeder gave away the store.

Nonsense. She merely drew up the blinds. It will be your task to draw them down again. There was a pause in the amused, maternal voice. Unless, of course, you want to bring him into the showroom.

No one likes you, Mom.

I know dear, but mothers don’t have to win popularity contests. Take care of zevani for me, won’t you?

Who?

The contact faded on a delighted laugh.

“Ruth?” Spock asked gently as her eyes opened.

“It’s done,” she confirmed. “And if you have any other questions, don’t ask them.”

She gazed meaningfully into her husband’s dark eyes, silently pleading with him. After a moment, his lips turned upward in a soft smile.

“Understood, my wife,” he acquiesced.

No! It isn’t fair! I was promised….!

By one who never keeps his promises, resha. The voices that answered her were both male and female and neither. You should have read the fine print a little more closely.

Fine print? What was I told other than what I was to do for you?

Your problem, Human.

Human? I am…!

No more. Return to your dimension and accept your fate.

You can’t do this to me! I can’t return…!

Hush, my servant. The new voice was dark and sibilant and private. We will find another way.

In moments, Lorelei was far, far away.

Uhura cried out with the intensity of the climax searing through her. She heard Tomor’s answering bellow, and they both collapsed onto her bed. After several minutes of heavy breathing and pounding hearts, the communications officer managed, “God, what was that?”

“The touch of the gods, Beauty,” Tomor rasped wearily. “I think the priestesses got their answer.”

The cold in the penthouse suite became bitingly intense as Chekov lost the next round in a particularly spectacular fashion. Kam’s eyes gleamed at him and he breathed “Bozhe moi”- and the freezing atmosphere warmed abruptly. Almost at the same moment, Daffy’s communicator chirped and she stumbled awkwardly to the dresser to retrieve it from her purse. As she opened it, Spock’s voice said, “Miss Gollub…”

“A thousand blessings on your house!” she squealed. “Get us the fuck out of here!”

There was a short pause in which she could clearly envision the raised eyebrow. “My intention, Lieutenant Commander,” the captain replied.

Kam’s string of epithets was lost in the transporter’s shimmer.

Jilla was glued to Sulu’s body almost before the three officers had solidified. The way he immediately responded prompted Ruth to grin and say, “For god’s sake, get a room!” To her surprise, Daffy grabbed her by the arm.

“Not a good time right now,” the chemist said, pulling the Antari toward the door.

“Captain, I respectfully suggest that we leave them alone,” Chekov put in to Spock. “Now.”

“They wouldn’t prefer a nice, warm comfortable bed?” Ruth was saying.

“That’d take too long,” Daffy answered. “In case your keheil brain has gone into a coma, that’s not dear, sweet, romantic Roy.”

“Oh shit!” Ruth muttered, staring back over her shoulder at the couple on the pads. “Daf, he might hurt…”

“Better her than us,” Gollub maintained. “Besides, what makes you think she’s not used to it?”

“Daffy!” Ruth protested.

“Look, I’ve had over thirty-six hours with him, and I’m not about to cross him,” Daffy retorted. “Unless you want to spend the next few days eating every last slab of steak on Lorelei after he makes us enjoy it while beats the holy crap out of all of us and you have to heal life-threatening wounds – and yes, I’m including Super-Vulcan in that – we’ll leave them alone!”

“My wife, perhaps it is best,” Spock added after a quick glance at the panic in Chekov’s eyes.

Ruth frowned. Daffy’s conviction was certainly genuine enough, and she did a quick check to make sure there was no real sense of danger to Jilla – just a hefty dose of rather overwhelming passion, even if it was a little darker than Roy’s usual sensuality. She exchanged a quick question and answer with her husband, receiving his concurrence in both her assessment, and Daffy’s. Sulu might not be dangerous to Jilla, but if anyone attempted to interrupt him… She grit her teeth and nodded.

The four officers quickly left the transporter room to the ravenous reunion.

“So, everyone back and in one not-frozen piece?” Gage drawled as Spock, Ruth, Daffy and Pavel returned to the captain’s office.

Daffy let out a loud “Eeek!” and turned on her heel, leaving the room. Gage shook his head.

“I wonder why she does that?” he murmured to no one in particular.

“What is the Ambassador doing here?” Chekov asked with a puzzled glance after Daffy.

“He was my transport,” Loki answered, then held out her hand to the Russian. “Loki Monolem,” she introduced herself.

Chekov shook it, though he was clearly just as puzzled as to why she was there.

“Miss Monolem is a priestess of the Havani,” Spock explained. “She aided us in removing the influence of the former – “ he paused and Loki nodded. “ – former resha of Lorelei.”

“A priestess?” the navigator repeated with a frown.

“I know, religious mumbo-jumbo,” Gage put in with a charming smile. “What are we sensible types supposed to do?”

The Russian frowned, clearly unhappy about being lumped into any category that also included a Haven dealer.

“You have our sincere thanks, Vakesha,” Spock said. “We are in your…”

“Don’t say that!” Ruth burst out, just as the office door opened, her words echoed by Uhura. The communications officer was walking into the room with Tomor Rand, holding warmly onto his arm.

“Too late,” both Tomor and Loki replied with identical grins.

“Besides, Spike, it was clearly a done deal from the get-go,” Gage supplied.

“Don’t worry, I won’t take advantage,” Loki added. “It was my clear duty to help, as a priestess, as a Monolem, and as a citizen of the Federation.”

“All of which were in effect, except that last one, over a decade ago…” Gage began.

“Don’t start that shit again, Dealer, I mean it!” Loki snapped.

“Is Sulu all right?” Uhura asked.

“I think that depends on how one defines ‘all right,’” Chekov answered dourly.

Uhura’s eyes widened.

“He and Jilla are reunioning like – as Daffy would say if she hadn’t booked it as soon as she saw Gage – crazed weasels,” Ruth confided.

“And that’s bad?” Tomor interjected.

Ruth shrugged and tried not to notice as Chekov blushed deeply, shuddered, and then resolutely turned his back on the couple.

“Well, come on, Tomor, we’ve got runs to make,” Gage said.

“Hey, I’ve still got five days of leave!” the large Haven protested.

“And I don’t want to have to make yet another detour to come back here to get you,” the Dealer countered.

“Mr. Ambassador, if you will give us your itinerary, we would be happy to bring Mr. Rand to your ship when our leave is finished,” Spock offered.

“You’re a sweetheart, Spocko,” the security man commented with a grin.

“And you’re going to say ‘done,’ Gage,” Loki instructed.

Gage frowned, but growled, “Done,” then added, “and we’ll have a nice cozy chat back on Leather, priestess.”

Loki ignored him, stepping up to Ruth. “It was good seeing you again, Spike. Give Kam my regards when you see him.”

“Will he want them?” Ruth asked, glancing speculatively at Gage.

Loki blinked her eyes. “But of course!” Then she gave Ruth a quick, unexpected hug and left the office, crooking a summoning finger after Gage.

“Tell him hello from me, too,” the Dealer/Ambassador said as he strolled past the Antari. Ruth’s brow furrowed at the sudden sense of loss that came from him and the understanding that emanated from Spock.

Something you’re not telling me, husband? she asked.

Only something I haven’t yet had time to, my wife, came the reassuring reply.

“I don’t want to go back to Lorelei,” Uhura was saying.

“Aw, come on, Beauty!” Tomor urged. “The big bad is all gone! The room is paid for! Baths and luxury and room-service…”

“Miss Uhura, it is quite safe,” Spock assured.

“Please, Beauty? I’ll make it worth your while.”

Uhura’s dark eyes smiled at the Haven. “As good as the last couple of hours?”

“Better,” Tomor promised.

Uhura sighed and nodded, and as they left the room, Ruth murmured, “Now there’s a story I wouldn’t mind hearing.”

“Captain, may I return to my cabin now?” Chekov broke in. “I would very much like a nice long, hot shower.”

“Have Daffy take one with you,” Ruth suggested and it actually made the Russian grin.

“I would not survive otherwise,” he returned.

“And you can go back to Lorelei afterwards, too,” Ruth rejoined.

“No, I don’t think so,” the navigator replied.

Ruth started a protest, but Spock subtly shook his head, and she subsided.

“So help me, if you or Gollub make one call to our cabin… just one…”

Chekov’s back shrugged at her as he left the office.

Ruth sighed, then turned her attention to her husband. “I want to go check on Sulu and Jilla, but then I want to get back to our leave,” she said.

“Of course, my wife,” the Vulcan returned. “I have had quite enough excitement for one forty-eight hour period.”

“Oh, let’s not go that far,” Ruth murmured, and had to smile at Spock’s nearly inaudible chuckle.

As always, Jilla’s utter acceptance and unstinting submission drained Kam of all his fury and all his power. Sulu came to consciousness with the rush of frustrated anger, disoriented and more than shocked to find himself on top of and inside his wife. But her surrender had its usual effect on him as well, and his mind quickly compartmentalized his confusion, relegating it to the place that held countless other unexplained moments of missing time, meshing it with half-formed memories of the sound of a communicator and the shimmer of the transporter beam into a vaguely coherent whole. The gaps could easily be explained by his being wasted and drunk off his ass. The taste of slightly bitter cucumber swiftly erased the dark coffee and vodka, the feel of her soft curves beneath him countering any desire for firm, muscled, masculine flesh. He murmured her name in grateful devotion, not caring that his words were slurred and his kisses sloppy. Her answering urgency fed him, her emotions both determined and eager, her need to reclaim him as desperate as was his to forget the past forty-eight hours.

It was only after they had both reached a wrenching if somewhat hurried climax that he realized they were on the pads in the transporter room.

”I haranye!” Jilla breathed, her arms like a vise around his shoulders. You are mine!

“Asi, haranyea,” he answered with weary, thankful conviction. He rolled slightly off of her, but she clung tenaciously to him.

“It’s over,” he whispered.

Her nod was lost as she buried her head against his chest.

“What did Ruth do?”

“She contacted the Zehara,” Jilla murmured, “and a Havani priestess, Loki Monolem, contacted…”

“Loki? She’s here?”

“And why do you care, husband?” The Indiian’s voice was tinged with a hard, cold anger.

Sulu subsided, shivering. “I don’t,” he replied. “It’s just that she’s an old friend.” He felt Jilla’s flush, the warmth of her skin very welcome.

“Forgive me, Sulu,” she began. “I am…”

He hugged her. “No need, hon. I understand. Celletyea, tu i sina.”

“Cortayelyea, en ros?”

“Forever and ever, wife,” he whispered in reply. Then he groaned and forced himself to sit up. “Let’s get back to our cabin, baby,” he said, and chuckled ruefully. “If I can walk. I need a hot, hot shower and lots of coffee and a couple hours’ sleep.” He grinned at her. “Then I’m gonna make you forget all about Lorelei.”

Chekov felt like his head was full of cotton. The shower hadn’t helped as much as he hoped it would. He forced himself to down the glass of water in his hand, then poured another.

The walk to his cabin through the strangely empty corridors of the ship had seemed to take forever. It had been made significantly longer by the fact that he had somehow ended up in front of the door to Sulu’s quarters rather than his own.

The navigator looked at his reflection in the bathroom mirror and sighed. “The Cure is not working tonight,” he informed himself apologetically.

His Academy roommate had relentlessly made fun of the Russian’s unvarying habit of taking a shower and drinking two glasses of water before he went to bed when he was drunk. Noel had called the ritual “The Russian Voodoo Water Cure.” Because his roommate ridiculed or took exception to so many of the things Chekov said or did and because there was nothing overtly unusual or nonsensical about taking a shower and drinking two glasses of water after one had been drinking, it had taken the Russian some time to realize that what Noel was mocking was not the activity, but rather his compulsion to perform it.

“Oh, go on, T-Paul,” the engineer would sometimes say when they were debating entering a particularly seedy bar. “You can always take the Cure afterwards.”

Chekov couldn’t explain it. There was no way to put into words the feeling that would come over him sometimes – the strong desire to cleanse in a manner that went beyond the mere physical. He couldn’t explain it to himself much less to his acerbic roommate. He didn’t like to dwell on those sorts of odd feelings – and the same went for all the odd feelings he’d had on Lorelei and, to be honest, had been getting more frequently ever since the mission to Dreamland… No point in dwelling on odd, painful thoughts and feelings… Although, he knew looking ruefully at the door to his cabin, he was going to be vigorously encouraged to do so for the remainder of his leave…

Sighing resignedly, he turned off the light and entered the cabin. Daphne was asleep on his bunk wearing only one of his old sweaters. She looked as peaceful as an angel.

For the moment, he thought wryly.

Careful not to disturb her, he climbed into the other bunk. He was nearly asleep when he heard her rouse, then felt her sit down on the mattress beside him and gently stroke his hair.

When he half-opened one eye, she smiled, caressed his cheek, then suddenly took a vice-like grip on his ear and jerked it as hard as she could. “What in the fuck is up with you and Sulu?” she demanded, un-gently.

“Ow!” he winced. “Daphne, please! I am too tired for this. Can’t we break up in the morning?”

“Oh, we’re breaking up all right,” she promised him. “I am breaking up with you for the last time, you lying, cheating fuck!”

“Why wait?” he returned harshly. “Break up with me now. Then get out so I can get some sleep.”

She glared at him, her breath coming in short angry puffs. She opened her mouth to yell, but started crying instead.

“Oh, Dafshka,” he said, taking her into his arms. “We are both too tired. We should sleep. It was an exhausting, disturbing, frightening experience.”

She pulled away. “You didn’t seem scared. You seemed turned on.”

“That’s not how I felt,” he assured her. “We are too tired to talk or think about this. We should wait until morning.”

“By morning, you will have figured out what you aren’t going to say and what you aren’t going to think about,” she predicted. “And you’ll never tell me how you feel.”

Chekov didn’t have an answer for this. In fact, it sounded like a very good idea… although he knew it wasn’t wise to say so.

“How long have you had a crush on Sulu?” she asked bluntly.

That clearly and immediately was something that could be put in the “not to think about” file. He shook his head. “That is not the way I feel.”

Gollub crossed her arms. “That’s not how it looked.”

“What happened on the planet was a manifestation of a malevolent entity of some sort.”

“How do you feel about Sulu?” she asked, then warned, “And if you give me some line about what a good officer he is…”

“He is,” Chekov insisted stubbornly.

“...then I’ll punch you.”

“I have always thought of him as a friend,” the navigator said, refusing to acknowledge anything else still breathing inside him. “Although this Kamikaze persona is very disturbing…”

Despite the warmth in the cabin and the heavy sweater, Daphne shivered.

Chekov put his arms around her. “He frightens you terribly, doesn’t he?” he said, holding her tight. “I would not have let him hurt you, doushka.”

“I know you would have tried,” she replied, her voice sounding tight. “But who would have kept him from hurting you?”

“It’s over now,” he comforted, kissing the top of her head. “No need to be afraid.”

She pulled back and looked up at him. “But what about next time?”

“There will not be a next time,” he promised with the assurance he hoped he would be feeling in the morning.

“Really?”

“A similar confluence of circumstances is highly unlikely to arise.”

“Well, that takes care of statistics,” she said acidly, but then her voice gentled. “What about emotion?”

“What do you mean?” he asked as if he didn’t understand what she was trying to get at.

“What do you feel for Sulu?” she asked. “What was the pull he kept talking about?”

Chekov’s mouth worked while he tried to come up with a suitable reply.

“No,” she said, caressing his cheek. “Stop thinking. Just tell me. What do you feel? When you were kissing him, what were you feeling?”

“I felt like…” In absence of an answer he blurted out. “Like…water.”

“Like water?”

“Like thirst,” he tried to explain. “Like hunger. Endless. Constant. Like the line from Pushkin, The cold spring of oblivion -- Will always help to quench the thirst of hearts.”

His girlfriend blinked at him.

“It is what I felt,” he said, spreading his hands helplessly. “Is that not what you wanted to hear?”

“It’s not what I was expecting,” she admitted, then tilted her head to one side and examined him critically. “You’re pretty stoned, aren’t you?”

He nodded. “It would seem so.”

“Let’s go to sleep,” she decided.

They curled together on the bunk and were quiet for a moment.

“You know,” Gollub began after a moment. “You could have said, “I felt bad because I knew I was cheating on my girlfriend.”

“That would have been a better answer,” Chekov agreed.

“You may want to use that tomorrow,” she suggested.

“I’ll make a note of it,” he promised snuggling against her.

She turned to him again after a moment. “How do you feel now?” she asked, putting her hand on his cheek again.

He smiled and shook his head.

“No, just say it,” she urged.

“In the worldly steppe, so mournful and endless…” he quoted, trying to capture the essence of the vast ebbing expanse inside him.

“Okay, bubee,” she said, giving him a silencing kiss. “No more dope for you.”

“Thank you, doushka.”

As he drifted off to sleep, the rest of the Aleksandr Pushkin poem whispered through his mind and far into his dreams.

In the worldly steppe, so mournful and endless,
Three springs mysteriously fought through withered earth:
The spring of youth is speedy and rebellious,
It boils and runs, and ripples in a blaze.
Castalian spring, in worldly steppe, enlivens
Exiles, whose fate is doleful and hard.
The last of them -- the cold spring of oblivion --
Will always help to quench the thirst of hearts.

Ruth came across Jilla and Sulu halfway between the transporter room and the turbolift. Sulu was staggering, leaning awkwardly on Jilla’s much shorter form. The Indiian, however, didn’t seem to be in any difficulty whatsoever. Still, Ruth hurried up, sliding her arm under Sulu’s free shoulder.

“What’d she do, throw icebergs at you?” she asked.

“Ha ha,” was the First Officer’s humorless reply.

“He is inebriated,” Jilla explained, “and I think…”

“Stoned to the gills,” Ruth finished. “I didn’t expect you to be partying, Roy.”

“We thought if we got so drunk we couldn’t stand, much less anything else…” he managed, then stumbled.

“Well, you managed the ‘anything else’ in the transporter room,” the Antari pointed out.

Sulu grinned at her. “With Jilla,” he said proudly.

“Yeah,” she returned affectionately. “There is that.”

“Is Loki still…?”

“Nope. She and Gage left.”

“Gage?”

Ruth took a deep breath. “When Tomor wouldn’t tell us anything about Haven religion because he’s not a priest and Spock’s research didn’t turn up anything useful other than Han’s contradictory theories Tomor contacted Gage who said he’d bring in some real muscle who turned out to be Loki did you know she was a priestess a priestess for Zehara’s sake and the Ambassador was kind enough to schlep her all the way out here and…”

Sulu groaned and Jilla murmured “He’s unable to follow your usual logic, Ruth.”

The Antari frowned. “Womprat,” she said.

“Indeed,” was the Indiian’s reply and Ruth hid her grin.

“I’ll tell you when you’re sober, Roy,” she promised.

“You’re a true friend, Spike,” he murmured gratefully.

Once the two were ensconced in their cabin, Ruth debated going to check on Daffy and Pavel, then decided against it. If the whispers of guilt she’d picked up from Roy were any indication, she’d only be interrupting Break-Up Number Five Thousand Six Hundred and Twenty-One. Or the make-up sex following. She did a quick telepathic scan of the surrounding hundred-thousand-or-so kilometers, just to make sure the Seeder’s ship was gone, then sighed and went to her own cabin. While it wouldn’t be quite the empty ship she’d envisioned, she knew her threat to Pavel would be heeded, and seriously doubted Sulu and Jilla would even get out of bed.

She and Spock still had approximately 120 hours left of their leave, and she intended to make the most of them.

The End