Bondage

It was very strange to be seeing through two pairs of eyes. When Kam snorted at that, Sulu tried to ignore him, but reminded both of them that they were seldom ‘in control’ at the same time anyway. He could feel Tarvak’s calm assessment as well as his having to deliberately remind himself that Pavel Chekov was not the slave, Lahs. For his part, the near-constant stream of telepathic impressions that came to him through the Romulan was enough to make him want to close his eyes, turn around, and keep walking.

Come on, look at it, Kam urged. I think you’ll find it pretty fucking interesting. He chuckled in a way Sulu was too familiar with, so he steeled himself to see through Tarvak’s perceptions.

Daffy was bright and multi-colored, her very real fear a stain of dark brown through the otherwise sparkling emotions. Ruth glowed with dual life, both fascinated and calmly categorizing, and Sulu wondered which was her and which the child she carried.

Pavel and Lahs were both clearly discernable, one stoic and stubborn, the other a mass of confusion, though both carried an unvoiced fear of madness.

And Jilla was light and life. She pulled at him, more strongly than ever, and he wanted nothing more than to take her into his arms and claim her right then and there – and he realized that part of that was coming from Tarvak.

Oh, none of that’s telepathic, Kam admonished. That's just the amped up empathy. Read them.

It’s not respectful, Sulu replied, refusing the desire that screamed at him to do just that.

So? Kam chuckled. I’m not.

And I am.

What you are is…

Tarvak… Sulu found himself imploring.

The Romulan turned inward. Warrior, behave yourself, he snapped sharply at Kam.

Warrior, huh? Kam mused with a fierce grin. And how do you think he’s gonna address you, my pathetic…

Captain, Tarvak replied firmly. Unless I receive his permission for more informality. He did honor me with a proper greeting. He frowned pointedly. And I suggest you be more circumspect in your choice of address to him as well.

Suck-up, Kam muttered, then both he and Sulu winced as Tarvak sent a mental admonishment. That startled the Romulan.

You are tied to this other spirit? he asked of Sulu.

Well… the captain tried to explain, it’s more like we’re – uh – sort of the same person.

Hardly, was the dismissive response.

Thank the gods for that! Kam nearly crowed.

You would do well, Warrior, to appreciate the many fine qualities of your – alter.

I‘d like to, Joron’s voice suddenly put it with a leering grin.

Behave yourself, beloved, Tarvak told him, though he too was smiling.

Oy vey, Sulu thought and Kam added, that’s ‘fuck-off’ in Jewish.

No, it isn’t, Joron replied airily. And I know because Del does.

And I’d like to fuck that delicious body you’ve got, Kam retorted lewdly.

Stop it! Sulu ordered.

Warrior, you will retreat! Tarvak demanded, and Sulu jerked from the force with which the powerful telepath threw Kam to the back of his head. My apologies, Captain, but he is a disruption to our functioning.

Tell me about it, Sulu muttered.

Jilla quickly rose. The call from Sulu was clear, and she responded to it without thought. As she drew close to him, DelMonde’s arm shot out grasping hers.

“Whoa, cher, that not Sulu,” he said, and Joron added. “Even though my beloved is irresistible.” And he winked at the Indiian.

Jilla stopped, frowning. “Tarvak?” she said at last.

“Forgive me, Lady,” the Romulan said in Sulu’s voice. “There is some blending of emotion. Your Bonded is nearly as strong an empath as mine. I trust it gives no offense to you or to your Bond.”

“No… I am not offended…” the Indiian stammered.

“Just very, very attracted,” Joron put in, then gave a slight bow. “Apologies, Lady Jilla.”

“Joron, such behavior is counterproductive,” Spock admonished.

“Yes, my once-Kah-lir,” Joron smirked. Spock ignored him.

“Have you learned anything that can help us, my wife?” he asked Ruth.

“Well,” the Antari said, “all we know for certain is that it’s likely Tarvak and Joron are here to help Lahs and Wen reach some kind of resolution to being Warrior-set, and that Lahs wants their help – at least Tarvak’s,” she corrected with a grin at Joron.

“I’m hardly offended at being excluded from the thoughts of a non-gift,” Joron replied, though his returned smile was scintillating.

“Him I don’t like,” Daffy commented. Joron turned to her.

“A pity, my lovely little Human,” the Romulan returned. “Del’s memories of you are quite – delectable.”

Chekov stood. “You will not be disrespectful of my fiancé,” he snapped.

Joron’s eyebrow rose. “It isn’t me who has those thoughts, person who isn’t Lahs.”

“Chekov,” the Russian stated. “My name is Pavel Andrevitch Chekov.”

”Well, Pavel Andrevitch Chekov, my deepest apologies.” Joron gave a sweeping bow, but his grin remained.

“Joron, enough,” Tarvak said, and Sulu’s deep voice gave additional gravity to the words. “You were saying, Lady Ruth?”

“There’s also something – not exactly a gift, per se, but something – gifted-like – within him. It may be related to how and why Lahs came to be Warrior Set.”

“Deron’s perversions took hold in him somehow,” Tarvak nearly growled. Glances were exchanged, each person confirming to the other that they knew to what he referred. “Wen’s condition is easily explained. The boy is a gifted Dei’lrn, misidentified at birth.”

“Deliberately?” Ruth asked.

“Unknown and probably unprovable, but likely,” Joron replied.

“If the blasphemy connected with something within Lahs or within Chekov at their – joining, as limited as it was…” Tarvak continued.

“Joining? What joining?” Daffy demanded.

Chekov flushed.

“Surely you know of the interaction Deron forced upon them,” Tarvak said.

“Jerking each other off isn’t considered ‘joining’ in this neck of the woods, bubee,” Daffy returned, showing her teeth.

“Oh?” Ruth put in brightly. “Does that mean you’d let him…”

“Shut up,” Daffy told her.

“I do not refer to the physical,” Tarvak rejoined. “The Centurion brought their minds together for his own sick pleasure.” He paused, then murmured, “My apologies for the mention of such things, Captain.”

Jilla swayed and Spock moved to her side. “What is it, rilain?” he asked softly.

“Sulu is – deeply affected…” was all she said, and all she needed to say.

“Is he all right?” Chekov asked pensively, and Daffy scowled and struck the back of his head.

“Just friends, huh?” she snarled.

“Miss Gollub, I must ask you to refrain from such reactions,” Spock told her.

“All this chit-chat ‘bout to drive her madder’n a gator in th’ noonday sun,” Del said, suddenly retaking the fore. “What we gonna do ‘bout this?”

“If we are to truly be of any assistance,” Tarvak answered slowly, “I believe we must see Lahs and Wen together. We must be able to accurately gauge the state of this – link between them.”

“Oh great,” Daffy grumbled. “That’s all I need, for him to fly into another man’s arms.”

“My dear Lady Daphne,” Tarvak said, “surely a little temporary discomfort in the pursuit of a finite solution is to be born with more grace than that.” And he smiled so charmingly that Daffy flushed, and relented. Del asked to go and get Calaya up to speed, promising to meet them all in the transporter room. Spock offered his hand to help Ruth stand, and Tarvak allowed Sulu to come to the fore to reassure Jilla.

Daffy turned to Ruth. “Oy vey, like Kam’s not charming enough…” she began.

Ruth grinned. “If Romulans are anything like Vulcans…” she said, then elbowed her friend suggestively.

“Since the little slave-boy is Romulan, that’s what I’m afraid of,” the chemist replied.

Agent Hernandez finally gave him permission to leave his cabin and resume his public studies. He had been dealing with the increase in his medication, Hernandez having to reinforce his blocks and shielding more than once. His desperate need for Lahs/Chekov was growing at an alarming rate, and it was all the agent could do to prevent him from forsaking everything else to somehow return to the Enterprise to claim his Bonded. That had taken a priority personal call from the Head of his section of Intelligence, a man he know only by the name of Patrick. Hernandez had then implanted other imperatives in him, and though he couldn’t access them and didn’t know what they would compel him to do, they had calmed his anguish back to its previous bearable state.

So it was that he was again at a computer terminal when he felt the heart-stopping sense of being that all but governed his life.

Wen had to close his eyes and steady himself before he dared to look up. In that moment, he also felt the presences of beings he had been told were long dead. All his early training reasserted itself, despite his conscious struggle to contain it, and he left his chair, dropping gracefully to his knees before Master Tarvak and Master Joron.

“Wen, get up,” a voice said, and though it felt like Tarvak, the voice was not his. Then came the voice he had always thought of as Tarvak’s but which he now knew was that of Captain Spock.

“Mr. Kolran, such obsequiousness is unnecessary.”

“You are Dei’lrn,” Joron added and Wen found himself very relieved that his voice sounded as it always had. “There is no need to kneel to us.”

Wen glanced up. He saw Captain Spock, and the Human who he had once known as Joron. Lady Ruth smiled at him and the child within her sent a welcoming squeal of delight. He didn’t dare allow his glance to linger on Chekov, for it was exquisitely painful. He didn’t know the other Human female, or the Indiian, though the emotions of both were clear to him: both curious and shocked, with a touch of guilty desire from the Indiian, and a great deal of jealousy from the Human. But the biggest shock was the being from whom Tarvak’s voice had come. It was almost like looking in a somewhat distorted mirror. The man was Human, and much older, but the face was essentially his own. With sudden clarity and almost overwhelming bitterness he realized that this was the ‘someone else’ Lahs/Chekov had been thinking of when he hadn’t known Chekov existed. His startling resemblance to this Human was the reason Lahs had first been friendly toward him in the slave pen. The needs of the Bond twisted in him and he had to bite back sudden anger and sudden tears.

He rose slowly, unable to stop his head from bending, his eyes from dropping. “What…” he managed, “…what is it you wish of me?”

“This must be discussed in a more private place,” Tarvak said. Wen had to shudder, the disconnect between the voice and the appearance was so striking. “It concerns your former master, and the abomination he placed within you.”

“Forgive me,” Wen rasped. “I have done all I can to bury it…”

“I’m certain you have, Wen,” Lady Ruth said kindly. “But the reality is that we have to deal with it. It’s drawn Tarvak and Joron back from Paradise.”

“This is deeper than we now understand,” Joron rejoined. “As uncomfortable as it is, we have to discuss it. We need to discuss it.” He took a step forward, holding out his hand. “You can trust us, Wen. We won’t harm you.”

“Yes, Mas – Joron,” Wen replied softly. His eyes went involuntarily to Chekov. Their gazes locked for only a moment, and the surge of desire and loss and need was nearly unbearable. The Human lowered his eyes and the Human woman moved closer to him, grasping his arm with possessive comfort. When he turned to her, the brown eyes soft and pleading for understanding, Wen’s soul cried out in agony. The Indiian woman gazed at him, tears in her eyes. Lady Ruth stepped forward, her hand held out beside Joron’s. Wen swallowed, his head bending even lower, and took them. Neither of them let go as the small group followed him to his cabin.

“God, he really does look like Sulu,” Daffy whispered to Chekov as they walked behind Ruth and Wen and Joron.

“Yes, he does,” was the tight response from her fiancé.

“You know, bubee, if you really are attracted to Sulu…” Daffy continued, taking a deep breath. “I mean, you wouldn’t be the first and... well… I can understand that, as long as you don’t…”

“Never,” Chekov said fiercely. “Never, never, never!”

“That wouldn’t be protesting too much, would it?” the chemist suggested. “I mean, there was all that stuff back on Lorelei…”

“That was – other influences,” the Russian retorted. “As well you know.”

“Yeah,” Daffy said, but she didn’t sound convinced.

Chekov stopped, turning to her. “Dafshka, I have no such feelings for Sulu. I have no such feelings for Wen. It is you I love, you I desire, you I have committed to spending the rest of my life with.”

She smiled gently. “I know, Pasha,” she said, and kissed him. “But Lahs does – at least for Wen – and when he’s – in you, you tend to – blend a little.”

“Perhaps,” the navigator admitted grudgingly.

They resumed walking and followed the others into a small cabin. Chekov noted with a small touch of satisfaction that Wen finally dropped Joron and Ruth’s hands, and immediately rejected the notion of jealousy or envy that must have preceded that satisfaction.

“I have nothing to offer you,” the young Romulan began, and both Spock and Tarvak waved it away.

“There is no need for you to serve us,” Tarvak said, and Chekov couldn’t help but hear Sulu. He had decided to accept what he had been told of the bizarre inhabitations, though he was far from believing it. But if a ghost of Lahs can live within you, why shouldn’t other ghosts live within others? he asked himself. He had no answer, and made another decision to simply accept it.

“Wen, I would ask your permission for a scan of your mind,” Tarvak continued. “I wish to ascertain for myself to what extent you have been compromised.”

“I think there’s little need for that,” Spock put in. “Those of us who were present remember the unfortunate scene at the theater, and Wen’s subsequent delivery via the Telanate.”

“Still, Spock, if we are to aid or unweave this unfortunate state, I must be intimately familiar with it.”

“There will be no intimacy!” Jilla broke in, suddenly strident.

Tarvak turned to her with a gentle smile. “Of course not, Lady. I meant the word in its metaphorical sense only.”

The Indiian flushed, glowing brightly for a moment and Joron chuckled. “The appropriate reaction of one who is Bonded,” he murmured to Ruth.

Chekov controlled his own flush, and hoped that Daffy hadn’t been watching him too closely, for his reaction had been identical to Jilla’s. When her hand came warningly up to the back of his head, he knew he had had no such luck.

He watched as Tarvak/Sulu closed his eyes, focusing, he supposed, his gifts on Wen. The beautiful, young Romulan shivered. As the moments passed, he started to tremble. Finally, with a wordless cry, he fell to his knees, sobbing, “Forgive me, Master, forgive me!”

“Tarvak, enough, please!” Joron cried, kneeling beside the boy, murmuring soothing words in Romulan to him, going so far as to pull the boy’s head to his chest.

“There is much contained within him,” Tarvak said, his voice steel. “The blasphemy has been allowed to take solid root, though there is much guile in the manner in which it has been propagated. The child is not to blame, as he never was. But there is no way I could see that this link can be broken. It must be consummated, or the boy will be left in the twilight anguish forever.”

“No fucking way,” Daffy growled, and glared at Pavel, waiting for him to likewise object.

But Chekov was lost in Wen’s fear and grief. The incomprehensible pull that had propelled him to kiss Wen in the Nest was beating within him, pounding through his veins in time with his heart. Seeing the boy in Joron’s arms was torture, and it was magnified by the inescapable knowledge that this was also his former roommate, a man whose sexual casualness had often been the source of conflict between them. The Russian would be the first to admit that he shared Noel’s love of women, but he would violently disagree that he himself was callous or promiscuous about it.

His vision grew tunneled, blotting out all else around him, until all he could see was Wen’s tear-stained face; all he heard was the soft murmur of another’s voice in the sensual, pointed ears. His heart beat harder, the heat in him growing with each passing second, until at last Lahs burst into the forefront of his consciousness and he flung himself at the two Romulans, tearing Wen from Joron’s arms.

“He is mine!” he growled in a bizarre parody of himself. To his own ears, it almost sounded as if there were two voices speaking. “I must care for him, I must heal him! He doesn’t want you!”

“Pavel!?!” Daffy cried. He heard Jilla’s gasp and the stern voice of his captain. He heard both Joron and Tarvak commanding him to stop at once. He even heard Ruth’s frantic attempts to call him to the fore. But all he knew was the feel of Wen in his arms, the scent of his hair, the warmth of his body, the intense, overriding hunger to do with him what he had so long wanted do to yet had never done with another male.

When Wen whispered a broken, “Lahs, my beloved…” he lost all sense of self.

Tarvak, stop them! Sulu cried.

And spoil a wonderful live sex show? Kam countered wickedly. I always wanted to watch myself on something other than a video monitor.

The long-denied images burned in Sulu’s mind, all the more terrible because he knew the Romulan would be aware of them. With a disgusted murmur of Abomination, Tarvak cut them off and Sulu began to breathe again. Kam growled, and Tarvak again threw him back.

Thank you, Warrior, the Human said gratefully.

Tarvak grunted an acknowledgement, then returned his attention outward. Sulu watched, helpless, as Daffy pulled on Chekov’s arm and was harshly pushed aside. Joron had reached for Wen again, and the young Romulan sobbed, burying his face in Pavel’s chest. Ruth looked like she was preparing to, as Daffy had suggested earlier, give birth and deal with the problem herself. Spock called out, “Khrahkah!” and the two embracing lovers froze.

Then Sulu was nearly bowled over as Jilla rushed at him. She was glowing, her eyes silver fire. She tore at his uniform, her voice a guttural string of Vulcan syllables. Tarvak, startled, momentarily lost the fore and Sulu lost his balance, falling under Jilla’s hedonistic assault. His blood was abruptly on fire and he only dimly heard Ruth’s “Oh shit! Jilla, kroykah!”

“Separate them, quickly!” Joron cried, and he pulled the now unresisting Wen from Lahs’ arms. Daffy and Spock pulled Chekov as far from the Romulans as they could, then Spock turned to help Ruth separate Sulu and Jilla. When Spock touched the Indiian’s arm, however, he swiftly drew his hand away as if burned, and Ruth glared at him.

“Salish won’t let you touch her now,” the Antari growled. “Your hormones will respond if you do.”

The Vulcan’s face paled. “Fathers, it cannot be…” he rasped.

“I don’t know if it’s been seven years, or if the lust lust lust from the lovebirds over there got into her tia,” the Antari continued, “but this is plak tow for sure!” She pulled harshly on Jilla’s arm and the Indiian hissed at her, clearly preparing to strike. Then she paused, glancing at Ruth’s belly. Her eyes went wide and she curled in on herself.

Sulu was just about to begin breathing again when Kam forced his way past him. “Don’t you dare try to take her from me,” he snarled at Ruth.

“I don’t think she’d be too happy about your fucking her in public,” Ruth returned.

“Like I give a damn about that?” Kam replied harshly.

“But I do,” Tarvak broke in and Sulu’s body jerked as the two minds warred within him.

Joron, aid me! Tarvak demanded and Sulu was filled with the bright emerald power of the younger Romulan’s mind. Kam was forced back, though it was clear that both of the Romulans were reacting to his blatant sensuality.

Beloved, if we were to join in this storm of power, how heady it would be! Joron murmured, even while he continued to help Tarvak keep Kam’s dark beauty confined.

Heady, yes, my Dei’lrn, but far from honorable, Tarvak responded.

Sulu heard Kam’s obdurate chuckle, and the words, I’ve got the hooks in now, floated into his mind. He swore, rejecting them, and Tarvak and Joron stopped their mental assault. They shared a brief mental caress – which made Sulu shiver – then Joron departed with a wink in his direction.

Can you explain what has happened here? Tarvak asked him. Sulu glanced at Jilla, who was shaking in Ruth’s arms.

Not in five minutes, the captain returned. Let’s concentrate on Wen and Lahs.

After a pause in which Sulu was certain Tarvak was combing through his memories, the Romulan said, I see, but no more, and again turned his attention to the rest of the room.

Lahs had begun to weep in his new Mistress’ arms. He had behaved disgracefully and she had every right to be angry. He wondered for a moment how and when he had come to accept this Human as Mistress, but that somehow didn’t seem important enough to keep his attention. All he wanted was Wen, to ease the beautiful slave’s distress, to fulfill the desire which burned within him. This was so much worse than what he had felt before! He was lost, and this new Mistress gave him no guidance, no correction other than the barely felt slaps to the back of his head. Didn’t she know wayward non-gifts needed a strong hand? Should not Master Tarvak have instructed her in this, since it was clear she had never had a slave before? The madness was again overtaking him, and without sure control….

“Lahs, I’m sorry, I’m sorry!” Wen cried, and without thought he found himself trying to crawl across the room back to him.

“Oh no you don’t!” the Human female growled. She pulled him around to face her. “Lahs, you get to the back of the damned bus right now!” she snapped, “Pavel Andrevitch, if you have any fucking idea what’s good for you…!”

The madness swept over him and Lahs crumpled, trying desperately to hide from it. “Dafshka, help me!” came from between his clenched teeth and he had the strange sensation of watching her through someone else’s eyes as she scowled, then set her jaw, then pulled his face to hers. Her mouth met his in a hard, firm kiss. His lips opened beneath it and the madness got stronger. Her arms went around him and he found himself clutching at her, his hand going most disrespectfully to her breast. She moaned into his mouth and he grew bolder…

And Daffy pulled away breathlessly. “That’s my Pasha,” she murmured.

Chekov blinked.

“You with me now, bubee?”

“I… I…” the Russian stammered, then flushed as he quickly removed his hand from between the chemist’s legs. He was dimly aware of Wen collapsing once again into Joron’s arms. “Dafshka, I am so sorry…” he began hoarsely.

“Yeah, and you’re gonna make it up to me, believe me,” she returned. She eyed him warily. “You really can’t resist the little devil, can you?”

He shuddered. “Apparently not.”

“Even though you’re telepathically as blind as a bat, as dead as a doornail, as…”

“Do not ask me to explain it,” he muttered. “I can’t.”

Daffy glared at him, then sighed. She rubbed her upper arms, looking past him. “Do you suppose it would’ve made any difference if we’d done the ‘I do’ bit?”

“While nothing would have pleased me more,” he replied with a weak smile, “I somehow doubt it. Unless we could have managed a tie similar to the salish of the Captain and Miss Valley.”

Daffy gave him a soft smile. “You gotta be ruffled, bubee,” she said. “You haven’t called her ‘Miss Valley’ except on duty for months.”

He shrugged. “Will you kiss me again, doushka?” he asked. “Just so that I know we’re still friends?”

“That better not be all we are,” Daffy quipped with a lop-sided smile of her own.

“Marry me,” he said as he drew her mouth to his.

When the kiss broke, Daffy mumbled, “To hell with the Rabbi. As soon as this farkackta shit is over, Spock’s gonna put on his dress uniform.”

Chekov hugged her, but there was a fear in his mind that refused to go away.

Seeing Lahs kissing the Human woman was a devastation Wen couldn’t bear. He sobbed, crumbling into himself, desperate to find and hold onto the blocks that were supposed to prevent the loss from overwhelming him. But he found only stronger need, greater desire. He could hear Joron’s voice, both aloud and in his mind, and he was drawn to it and to the cerulean blue that matched the color in his own thoughts. The words the older Dei’lrn murmured didn’t matter; all that did was the power that lay behind them, that he could call on and make his own. He drew the azure strength to him, certain that if he had just a little more, he could call Lahs to him and end his torment.

Wen, what are you doing?! Joron cried, then was supplanted by who had to be the Human Wen had only known as ‘Ensee.’

No you don’t, son, he snarled and the blue began to darken. Wen could feel the surge of energy behind it, and his training at the hands of the Telanate and Federation Intelligence took over. He opened to it, a brief vulnerability and deception, then snapped the powerful cage of his own mind around it. With it safely enveloped, he began to draw on it, using it to feed his abilities, preparing to bring Lahs forever to him.

Joron called for Tarvak as the older Romulan had seconds before, asking for his aid. Del swore bitterly and focused the xenoneurophene in his system, attempting to shatter the prison Wen’s mind had locked him into. It bounced back at him and he cursed again. He felt Joron and Tarvak bringing their gifts to his and gave a second, powerful thrust. A bolt of gold came from somewhere outside him and the cage shattered, Tarvak and Joron immediately grabbing onto Wen’s thoughts.

Thanks, cher, Del sent to Ruth, and was answered by a wordless giggle and Ruth’s, That wasn’t me, Del. Glorf likes you.

He got more taste than his papa, then, the engineer returned, and chuckled at the Antari’s scowl.

Del, for Telan’s sake, help us! Joron demanded and the Cajun returned his attention to the struggle going on within the mental landscape.

This power is incredible, Tarvak noted. His voice was calm even as he battled with Wen’s determined mind.

He no doubt been strengthened by Intelligence, th’ bastards, Del muttered, rejoining the fight. The bitter memory of Pelori’s strength washed through him.

No time for that, my friend, Joron almost panted. If we don’t stop him, Wen’s going to Bond with Lahs!

And that may destroy the non-gift – and will certainly devastate Mr. Chekov, Tarvak added.

It was like fighting an octopus. No sooner did they get control of one part of Wen’s mind than another would rise up and again reach for Lahs’ being. There was far more behind his strength than any of them could account for, even with the years of xenoneurophene usage. It was as if he was linked to others and was drawing on their power, just as Joron and Tarvak and Del drew on each others’. Del and Joron both recognized the many doorways in the boy’s mind, Joron sending a burst of both sympathy and comfort as Del reacted to yet more painful memories.

We have to get in them, the younger Romulan rasped. We have to stop him from feeding on whoever or whatever is behind them.

Impossible, Tarvak returned breathlessly. It is all we can do to hold him at bay…

Can the little one help? Joron asked of Del.

You mean th’ baby? Del replied incredulously. You crazy or jus’ heartless?

We need more strength! was the harsh response.

You’ve got more – providing there’s something in it for me. A cold breeze rushed through them and Del groaned.

Warrior, now is not the time to strike bargains, Tarvak admonished.

Suit yourself, Kam shrugged.

Wait! Joron cried. What do you want?

Kam’s essence grinned. What have you got?

When you attend to your Indiian, we will share with you!

Joron! Tarvak rebuked fiercely, and Del felt their hold on Wen slipping.

Damn it, Kam, this ain’t no game! he shouted.

Nobody asked you, Cajun, Kam replied coolly. That sounds delicious, Joron, he added. Done?

Don’t say…!! Del began frantically as Joron said, Done!

Then he groaned at Kam’s wicked chuckle. All right, then, here’s the cavalry, Kam said, and icy power rushed through them, freezing not only them but Wen as well. The boy broke, again collapsing in on himself.

Del blinked. How th’ hell you do that so easy? he wondered.

Simple, Kam replied. And since you like putting obvious emotional truths to music… I am he as you are he as you are me and we are all together, he sang – surprisingly much better than Del had ever heard Sulu sing. Then he grinned again and added, goo goo gajoob.

Lahs was screaming, and it was all Pavel could do to keep the sound from escaping his lips. But the need had to have voice and he found himself pleading from behind clenched teeth, “Mistress, please, I beg you, please let me go to him!”

Daffy shook her head, both angry and sorrowful. “I’m afraid I can’t do that, bubee.”

He groaned, then heard her say, “Captain, a little help here?”

Shudders wracked his body as Spock moved swiftly toward him, crouching beside him.

“Mr. Chekov, you must fight this,” he Vulcan said. “You cannot allow this Bond to be formed.”

“I have to,” the Russian rasped. “I have to…”

“Impossible. I will not lose so fine an officer, and Miss Gollub will not lose her husband-to be.”

“He is skilled, he could join Fleet, he could…!”

“All of which must be thoroughly discussed and agreed to before such a thing could even be considered,” Spock insisted.

“Are you crazy?” Daffy protested. “I’m not gonna share him with some damned Romulan slave-boy!”

“While I understand your misgivings, Miss Gollub,” Spock returned sternly, “it is of paramount importance that we give something to calm Lahs, or the discussion cannot take place.”

“Dafshka, I am sorry…” Chekov hissed.

“Fuck this!” Daffy spat, starting to rise. “Fuck the slave-boy and fuck you, Pavel Andrevitch!”

“Miss Gollub!” Spock snapped. “You will conduct yourself as an officer!”

Tears spilled from Daffy’s eyes. “Ruth and Jilla were supposed to exorcise him, not let him take Pasha away from me!”

“And so you will take from him the one thing he has to hold on to?” the Vulcan demanded.

The chemist’s pretty face twisted in despair. “What am I supposed to do?” she cried.

“Suck it up, Daffodil, as Cobra would say,” Sulu called from across the room. Daffy turned on him.

“And fuck you, too, Kam!”

“Kam?” Ruth’s voice cut in. “Oy geveult…” then added, with a note of panic, “Jilla, don’t…!”

Chekov trembled as his Captain’s attention turned to the Indiian.

The fire in her was rapidly reaching a fever pitch. It had been blunted by the warning from Ruth’s child, but was flaring again with overwhelming heat. The fear that had been building in her for the past several days came into sharp focus. As was the way of Vulcans, she had ignored it, both consciously and unconsciously, her refusal to acknowledge the coming madness aided by an unvoiced conviction that Dr. McCoy had cured her system of the hormonal cascade. Now it was all too obvious that he hadn’t.

“Ruth, I must leave…” she managed.

“Yeah, no shit,” Ruth mumbled. She pushed her bulk up, keeping a firm hold on the Indiian’s arm. “Spock,” she called, “I’m taking Jilla back to the D’Artagnan.”

“Oh no you’re not,” Sulu said. He fixed his gaze on Jilla, leaning back on his elbow, crooking a finger at her. “Come on, baby,” he crooned. “I’ve got just what you need.”

Jilla closed her eyes, shuddering with the renewed desire.

“Fight it, Jilla,” Ruth said urgently. “We can’t afford…”

“She can’t wait,” Sulu interrupted with a lascivious smile. “And I can’t leave and take Tarvak with me, now can I?” He again focused on Jilla. “Come on, my little piece of lusciousness.”

Jilla moaned, Vulcan words whispering from her lips.

“Spock!” Ruth called desperately.

I dare not! the Vulcan returned helplessly.

We can’t let him – let them…

“For the love of god, call Paget!” Daffy screeched.

Go To Part Six

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