Return to Valjiir Stories
Return to Valjiir Continnum
Jeremy Paget was sitting in his office pouring over Intelligence reports. He couldn’t help but be concerned – anything that involved the Great Romulan Misadventure could have grave repercussions for his friends. He’d done some digging and had discovered that the cute young Romulan who looked like Sulu was assigned to the base. He remembered the poor boy’s condition, the strength of the gifts that was obvious even to someone as mind-blind as Paget was. And since Sulu had said Jilla had been called to help Pavel Chekov deal with his own Romulan ghost/persona, that couldn’t be good news. Knowing how Intelligence worked, Jeremy doubted any of it was coincidence. The problem he was attempting to solve was just what they wanted from the Russian – or from little Wen, for that matter. He’d contacted the Enterprise’s Chief of Security, Lieutenant Lacey, who was an arachnid from the Draconis homeworld. Not having any particular fear of spiders, her gangly, eight-limbed, dual-segmented body had never spooked him, though the very Human-looking face on the bulbous head sometimes did. For the most part, she walked on four of her ‘legs’, using the other four as arms, though when speed was required she could scurry along on all of them like her Terran namesakes. When she informed him that Intelligence had sent Noel DelMonde from the Lincoln, Paget’s worry had increased exponentially.
He turned again to the latest Intelligence updates, and when his comm signaled, reached for it automatically. “Paget,” he said.
“Emergency call from Captain Spock baseside,” Tristan Vale’s voice said.
Shit! “Put it though, now!” Paget snapped.
“Commander, you must beam up Commander Majiir from these coordinates to your Sickbay immediately,” Spock’s voice said with no little urgency.
Oh Jesus! “Is she all right?” he asked as he sent the order to the transporter room.
“No, Mr. Paget, she is…”
“Seven years, Jeremy!” Ruth’s voice shrieked, and the TerAfrican swore a third time. Then he heard Jilla’s breathy moan, and Sulu – no Kam’s – voice growl “Belay that order, Jeremy!”
“Too late, Captain,” he temporized, and clicked off the comm before the string of harsh threats and obscenities could reach him. Then he called Sickbay and raced there as fast as his two Human legs could carry him.
Sulu lunged at Jilla, only to have his arms close on air. He swore, then glared at Ruth, his arm rising to strike her. Spock’s hand closed on his wrist, jerking him away full force, which caused the younger captain to land against the opposite bulkhead. Sulu’s body shook, then Tarvak rose slowly.
“My thanks, my friend,” he said to the Vulcan, “and from Captain Sulu as well. Joron made an unfortunate bargain which would have been disastrous if allowed completion.” His eyes closed, then he gave a wry grimace. “And our Warrior is warning of great retribution.”
“Yeah, he does that,” Ruth commented, moving into Spock’s arms. “I only hope we can get him back behind the shojis when all this is over.”
“I will aid in strengthening the Captain before I depart,” Tarvak assured. He glanced at DelMonde, who was still cradling Wen, then at Chekov, trembling next to Daffy. “We must separate them, Spock,” he continued. “Their proximity is too dangerous, and I believe we have learned as much as we can from their interaction.”
“Which is?” the Vulcan asked.
“There are other forces at work, forces that actively want Wen to complete the Bond he craves.”
“But why?!” Daffy cried. “What would that accomplish?!”
“Lady Daphne, forgive me, but we cannot ascertain that while they strive to join with one another. As painful as it will be for both of them, we must examine each of them separately.”
“Not a fucking problem,” Daffy muttered. She grasped Chekov’s hand, pulling him to his feet. He allowed her aid, then immediately lunged for Wen. Tarvak snapped, “Khrahkah!” and the Russian froze one more.
“Return to your ship, Spock,” the Romulan advised. “Bring Pavel back into control of his body. Joron and I will deal with Wen, then join you there.”
“Send Calaya down,” DelMonde gasped.
Spock nodded, then helped Daffy half drag, half carry Chekov from the young Romulan’s cabin. Neither of them noticed Agent Hernandez, waiting at the far end of the corridor.
After Spock, Ruth, Daffy and Chekov had left the small cabin, Joron slowly let go of Wen. The boy leapt up, racing to the door and Tarvak intercepted him. They struggled only briefly, then Tarvak flipped the boy onto his back. Wen landed with an outrush of air, then curled up, weeping. Tarvak bent down beside him.
“Who compels you, little one?” he asked, gently smoothing the boy’s hair from his face. “Whose strength do you call upon?”
“Lahs…” the young Romulan rasped. “I need Lahs…”
“That is an abomination, Wen,” the older returned sternly. “Deron placed it within you. It is not honorable to pursue it.”
Joron moved to them. “We can help you endure it, but you must trust us,” he said to Wen. “You must answer our questions as best you can.”
“Masters, please, I must… I have to…” the boy sobbed.
“By whose command?” Tarvak demanded. “Deron is far away, and you have had much training since then…”
Wen choked, and the bitten-off word echoed in Del’s mind, as it did in Joron and Tarvak’s.
“Kah-en’gen’t,” Joron said bitterly.
Wen became absolutely still, all the doors in his mind opening before their mental eyes.
Shee-it! Del breathed as the myriad layers of contact and shields and blocks were revealed. The scope was unbelievable, the hidden imperatives and safeguards and mental landmines terrifying in their complexity and callous disregard for Wen’s well being. The ‘why’ of the intent was monstrously clear: there was a power within the boy that was wild, a perfect storm of empathic power, but of such potential that Intelligence would do anything to awaken it. And it was tied with a chain of purest devotion to the image not only of Lahs, but of the Human Wen had never properly met until a week before. And floating ominously above – or maybe behind it all – was something that seemed incongruously mathematical: a score of zero is perilously close to 100.
Psi-null! Del cried out. It because T-Paul a psi-null!
That makes no… Tarvak began, then his voice was cut off with a gasp. Sulu shouted DEL!, Kam’s essence pushing forward, only to be felled as well. Joron’s cry of Kah-lir! was the last thing Del heard.
When Jeremy reached Sickbay, he was greeted by the sound of Jilla’s hoarse weeping and Lian Rendell’s soothing voice.
“I must get to him!” the Indiian was pleading, “I need him!
“Jilla, calm down, you’ll be better able to control this if…”
He stepped quickly forward. “Lady, Sulu will be here as soon as Captain Spock can…” he began.
“NOT SPOCK!” Jilla screamed and Jeremy winced.
“I know, Sulu’s on his way…” he tried again, then was frozen by the blaze of silver into his mind as she twisted to stare at him.
“Get away from me!” she hissed. “He will not serve you!”
Swallowing both his fear and sudden grief, he raised his hands, backing up a step. “I don’t interfere, Jilla, you know that,” he said.
“He would have us both,” she snarled. “I will not allow that, he is MINE!”
“All yours,” Paget agreed and glanced helplessly at Dr. Rendell.
“I’ve got a call into McCoy on the Enterprise,” she said.
“I do not need more of his potions!” Jilla screeched. “I NEED MY MATE!” She bolted up from the bed and Jeremy quickly grabbed her. As her nails raked across his skin, he managed, “Can I get a sedative, here, Lian?”
The Haven shook her head as she moved forward to aid in restraining the furious Indiian. “Not with the way her hormonal levels are skyrocketing,” she said, then called loudly for an orderly.
Further conversation was put on hold as they struggled, along with a strong medical ensign, to get Jilla strapped onto one of the Sickbay beds. She was sobbing uncontrollably and Jeremy was covered in scratches by the time they managed it.
Paget stepped back, wracked by sorrow and guilt, one for her anguish and the other for his own powerful arousal.
“Where the hell IS the Captain, by the way?” Rendell asked as she switched on the monitors above the bed.
“He was with her baseside,” Jeremy answered. “I thought for sure he’d be tearin’ in here by now.”
Lian gestured around. “Do you see him, Commander?”
“No. Shit. This can’t be good.”
The doctor strode to the comm on the wall. “Mr. Vale, get the Captain, on the double!”
“Yes, ma’am,” came the reply, and after a few moments, “He’s not answering, Doctor.”
The Haven swore. “Try Captain Spock.”
“Or Ruth Valley,” Jeremy put in. “She was with him, too.”
“You heard the man, Vale,” Lian said.
“Valley, what the fuck is it?” came Ruth’s harried voice.
“Uh, Ruth, Jilla’s in need of her husband up here,” Jeremy said, striding to the comm.
“You mean she still…?”
“In spades, honey.”
“Jesus Christ…” the Antari snarled. “Hold on, I’ll see what I can do.”
Paget glanced at Jilla, who was pulling with considerable force at the restraining straps. “Better hurry, Spike.”
Daffy was getting more than frustrated. She and Spock and Ruth had returned to the Enterprise with Pavel, and just when she thought he was gaining ground over Lahs’ desperation, the Romulan slave would push to the fore and begin pleading with them. That was bad enough, but the things he said, the things he promised if they would only bring him back to Wen…
They’d gone to Sickbay, hoping some sedation would help, but found McCoy busy preparing some of the serum that had years ago saved Jilla’s life – and had begun a state in her that Daffy now unkindly called Takeda-Set. She wondered out loud if giving some to Pavel might alter the focus of his obsession and was soundly ignored. Ruth and Spock seemed to be having an argument regarding the advisability of her actually giving birth six weeks early. They had done as Del had requested and sent Calaya Wheal baseside, the Indiian picking up both their worry and Pavel’s anguish. The yeoman was glowing as she hurried to the transporter.
When the call came from the D’Artagnan, wondering where Sulu was – and Pavel responded to the name with a sharp intake of breath, the chemist had had enough.
“This is your mistress speaking, ya damned zevel!” she shrieked. “And I’m ordering you to cut this shit out right now, or polishing your damned Second Master’s boots with your fucking tongue will be the fucking least of your fucking problems!”
Lahs dropped to the floor, quaking so badly it was all she could do not to drop beside him and comfort the fear. But she held her ground, staring down at him as coldly as she could manage.
“Look, you’re NOT getting the little slave-boy,” she continued. “You’re mine, Pavel is mine and that’s the end of it. Finished. Finito. The end. Capice?”
There was no response, but Lahs grew very still.
“You hear me, Lahs, Pavel Andrevitch?” she demanded.
Very slowly his head came up. His eyes met hers, and they were so dark as to be almost black. He drew in a long, slow breath.
Then he smiled.
And Daffy screamed.
Ruth nearly jumped out of her skin. Glorf protested violently and it was all she could do to keep from vomiting, passing out, or both. Spock stiffened, then turned to the chemist and the kneeling navigator.
“What is the meaning of…” he began, then stopped abruptly.
Void! His son cried in his mind. Father, Void!
Sarek, what do you mean?
Incoherent pictures came to him, clearly from Ruth’s memories, of the battle at Dreamland Base and the dark nothingness that had been dormant within Pavel Chekov; its terrible awakening and the even more horrible use to which it had almost been put. He saw DelMonde’s truly epic, heroic efforts that had cost the engineer his life – only Ruth’s desperate pleading bringing him back from that final peace. He saw the Beast in all her ghastly glory, bloated and about to give birth, if only the Void had devoured her and given her an empty space to fill with the monstrous infant. In bizarre combination he received impressions from Ruth, DelMonde, the now-deceased Irina Galliulin and even the Beast itself of the hungry emptiness that was created in one whose gifts were so close to infinite that a Human mind could not contain it – that turned in on itself, becoming – a Void.
Uncle Pasha! Sarek cried. Void!
With abrupt clarity, Spock understood.
Ruth leave, now! he ordered and used all the power of salishe to make her obey without questioning him. He aimed a similar command at Gollub, then drew upon all the strength in his command, sending his understanding to Tarvak’s mind.
Then he took a deep, steadying breath, and approached Chekov.
Wen remained inactive, vulnerable, as Agent Hernandez came into his cabin. He saw her quickly check the pulse at the carotid arteries of the two Human bodies, as well as perform an intense mental scan. She was smiling grimly when she turned to him.
“What did they learn, Wen, and how did they know your code?”
“It was accidental, my Lady,” the Romulan replied tonelessly. “Master Joron used the Romulan term as a way of…”
“Hold,” she said. “Answer the first.”
“Everything that is opened, my Lady,” was the response.
“Damn! Did you draw them in?”
“No, my Lady. Your arrival prevented the completion of the connection.”
“If I reestablish your blocks and give you a new codeword, can you complete your task?”
“Unknown, my Lady.”
“We need them, Wen. We need the Chekov/Lahs duality. Your mission must be completed. Reprioritize to Level 001.”
“Reprioritizing….” Wen struggled, some unnamed resistance building within him. “We must Bond,” he said, and his voice was no longer a monotone. “We must Bond!”
“Code blue alpha 1!” Hernandez snapped, and the nameless power subsided.
“Level 001 Priority established,” he murmured.
“New code, authorization Warbird Gamma 3,” she went on. “Kah’ln’an rosh’an. Repeat.”
“Kah’ln’an rosh’an,” Wen replied dutifully, though something inside him cried out in horror.
“When our subjects wake, you know nothing.”
“Yes, my Lady.”
“Re – ”
Hernandez turned at the hissing of the cabin door and the loud gasp that followed.
Calaya knew something was terribly wrong the moment she approached the cabin that Captain Spock had told her was Wen’s. All emotion from the room was muted, as if someone had placed it under a thick woolen blanket. Knowing that the room contained not only Noel but Captain Sulu and the essences of the Romulans as well as Wen himself, and that of the five beings, four were empathic, that was more than strange. She sent out a hesitant mental, Noel? and received no answer. Given that his mind was usually well-tuned to any attempt at communication from her, the strangeness turned to fear. When the door opened before her, and she saw the body of her lover and Captain Sulu on the deck with Wen on his knees before a non-descript Human female, she gasped. The woman pivoted to her and she felt the gathering of powerful emotion. Quickly she fled, running down the corridor to the nearest comm unit, and frantically hit the alarm button.
Agent Hernandez swore, sent a swift telepathic report to her superiors, then completed her order of “Release!” to Wen and hurried out the door after the Indiian. She had no doubt she could block the young woman’s memory… and her concentration was shattered by the shrill sound of the alarm claxon. Swearing again, she turned and retraced her steps. The noise would surely wake Sulu and DelMonde – and likely the Romulans Tarvak and Joron as well, and she had to make certain that whatever they had learned would never be accessible to any of them.
It was more the cacophony in his head than the sound of a blaring alert that brought Sulu to consciousness. There was information coming into his brain far faster than he could process, but from the sudden horror and determined fury within Tarvak, he knew the telepath had understood it perfectly. He felt more than heard the Romulan relating it to Joron and Del, along with the anguished comprehension coupled with an equal incredulity within the two.
It explains the Bond, Joron said.
Why I not t’ink o’ that? Del added.
What can be done? Tarvak asked.
Sulu was just about to ask what the hell they were talking about when Kam broke in with, Your little lifeline is screaming for you, you know.
The picture his alter sent with the words – Jilla deep in the throes of blood fever – started a panic in him.
Tarvak, I have to get to her! he cried.
We all do, Kam added with a fiercely wicked smile.
Can it hurt? Joron put in. We know where the Bond comes from, we know what they want with us, with Wen…
She comes! came a warning that didn’t originate with any of them and without thinking, Sulu drew his communicator.
“Emergency beam-up, everyone in this room NOW!” he snapped. He saw a woman who could only be Agent Hernandez entering just as the beam took hold.
Calaya hurried to the base transporters and quickly returned to the Enterprise. She found Ruth Valley and Daffy Gollub outside Sickbay, both on their knees, the chemist holding a small container in front of the retching Antari. She waited, silently absorbing the fear and anguish and said a silent prayer to Aema for the child. When Ruth grinned weakly, wiping her mouth and sat back against the bulkhead, the Indiian approached cautiously.
“Something is seriously amiss with Captain Sulu and Noel,” she said quietly. “I alerted the base authorities.”
“Oy god, what now?” the Enterprise’s First Officer groaned.
“God hates us,” Gollub muttered, and Calaya understood that she meant it quite literally.
“The young Romulan was in some kind of trance state,” she continued, “and the captain and Noel were unconscious. There was a Human woman with them…”
“Brown hair, brown eyes, not too tall, not too pretty, unremarkable in every way?” Ruth asked sourly.
“Except for the aura of power about her, yes,” Calaya answered.
“Hernandez,” Ruth and Daffy said together, and Gollub added, “That bitch!”
Ruth pushed herself up. “Settle down, Glorf,” she said, “and shield, like this.” She closed her eyes for a moment. “Ara’s got to talk to Daddy.”
“I wouldn’t go in there if I were you,” Daffy warned.
“I don’t have much choice,” Ruth returned. “Calaya, can you stay here with her?”
“Oh, no, if you’re going in there, I’m going in there!” Daffy stated.
“Daf… think. If it makes me throw up…”
“And I didn’t, so who’s tougher?” the chemist retorted.
“Who’s got the shields?”
“Who’s pregnant?”
“Enough!” Calaya shouted. “I’ll go in there!” And she stepped past them to the Sickbay door.
Ruth and Daffy stared at each other.
“She’s not a whole lot like Jilla,” Daffy commented.
“No,” Ruth agreed wryly. “She’s tougher.”
“Than either of us,” Daffy nodded.
“Bets?”
The chemist grinned toothily. “I was hoping you’d say that.”
Still, they each had to take a deep breath before turning toward the door.
Chekov watched warily as Spock approached him, even while one part of him was cringing and another part trying to regain control. Whatever-it-was that had taken hold of his physical reactions had but one response – and it sounded frighteningly like yum yum. Dark memory pulled at him, of a black thing he wanted, needed to kill, and of loss and unbearable grief. He seemed to be looking down at himself from a great height, not unlike his awareness when Agent Hernandez had been examining his mind. He saw his Captain, a man he admired more than any other, as an interesting specimen – and he shivered as he realized it was a sense of hunger that made it ‘interesting.’
“Pavel,” the Vulcan said, and he found himself cocking his head, almost as would some hawk or owl or other bird of prey. Then he felt the touch of Spock’s mind and he licked his lips.
“Lieutenant Commander, I have a mathematical question. I require an answer. If plotted on a circular graph, with values of zero to one hundred, where do the beginning and ending variables fall?”
The hungry thing paused, intrigued. The sense of intelligence was savored as Chekov frowned. The question was absurdly simple, but if Captain Spock required an answer…
“Adjacent to one another,” he found himself replying. Spock’s approval washed over him and Lahs peeked over the edge of his awareness in fearful curiosity.
“And if the upper value is infinite?” Spock returned.
“It does not matter,” the Russian answered. “On a circular graph, the highest and lowest variables will always be adjacent.”
“So it would not be inaccurate to state that, in the first example, a score of zero is far closer to one hundred than would be, say, a score of fifty, or ninety?”
“No, that would be correct,” Chekov said and a chuckle rose up in him. He’s good, came a voice, that wasn’t his own, but didn’t sound like Lahs at all.
“What is your psionic rating, Mr. Chekov?” Spock continued.
The navigator frowned. “I am a psi-null, Captain.”
“And when considered in the context of the previous mathematical problem?”
“I… I…” The implication sank in and Chekov rejected it out of hand. “The two are not comparable.”
“Indeed? Where is the logical fallacy?”
“I don’t know,” he replied stubbornly. “But there must be one.”
“What is the zero value of light, Pavel?”
“Darkness.”
“What is the infinite value of gravity?”
“A black hole.” The correlation formed and was also rejected. “Light is not gravity,” he said.
“Which is the stronger, light or gravity?”
“Since a black hole consumes all light, the obvious answer is….” The word ‘consumes’ resonated sharply with the odd voice within him. “But they are not the same thing.”
“Zero light equals infinite gravity, Pavel.” Spock’s voice was soft and close, and Chekov realized the Vulcan was right in front of him. “A void. Something which seeks to draw in all matter and energy.”
Yum yum, the voice said.
“Something which could behold the desperate need forced into an empath and seek to take it to feed its own darkness.”
“No,” Pavel whispered, but Lahs seized on it.
“And if that urge were to be denied…” the slave mused, “the gifted one would perceive it as a pull, a…”
“Bond,” Spock completed. “Very good, Lahs.”
Sudden despair filled both the non-gift and the Russian. “So it is to Master Pavel Wen is drawn...” Lahs said, then sobbed.
“Unless you, also, are psi-null,” Spock corrected gently. “And as a ghost, a being with no physicality…”
“Wen,” Lahs murmured.
“He needs to take you into himself, Lahs. He needs to draw you to him and not let the Void draw him to it.”
Tears formed in Pavel’s eyes, the dark emptiness retreating with the powerful emotion that it could not devour.
“Beloved Master…” Lahs sighed, and reached for Spock’s hand, kissing it devotedly.
“For the love of god, not him too!” Daffy’s irritated voice snarled.
“Captain, thank god!” Lieutenant Dylan Paine said as the re-materialization was completed. He just happened to be stationed at the transporter when the emergency call came. “Dr. Rendell says to get you to…” His voice stopped when he recognized who was with his captain. “Del,” he whispered.
The Lincoln’s Chief Engineer glanced at him as if he didn’t know him. No scowl. No mental warning to ‘stay th’ fuck away from me, boy.’ Not even a guilty light in the dark eyes, or a more-than-half-grimace smile. No recognition at all. Dylan dropped his shields just enough to read a little of his former lover’s emotions, hopefully not enough to draw a rapid-fire response. When he did, the young Romulan – who he had barely noticed up until that second – gasped and took a step back behind Del.
Del turned toward him and Dylan got the full dual impression of the mental entities within the Cajun. He felt the alien presence realizing what he was, felt, too, his rapid conversation with – something inside Captain Sulu. The Captain glanced at him, and barked, “Stand down, Paine, and if you report any of this to your Intelligence superiors…”
Paine swallowed. “Intelligence, sir?” he began.
“… I’ll see you booted out of Fleet so fast it’ll make racing look like a freight haul,” Sulu finished savagely. Then he and Del and the Romulan were moving out of the transporter room.
Dylan saw the glance the Romulan gave him and knew who it had to be, knew, too, that each had recognized the other for the agents-in-training they were. That something had gone seriously wrong with some mission or other was obvious, but Dylan had received no briefing and so was obliged NOT to interfere, lest what looked like trouble turned out to be part of a larger plan. So instead, he did as his captain had ordered, and stood down from his post, returning to his quarters to ponder just who and what other life-forces had been taken into his Captain and the man he never had and never would quite get over.
Captain, Tarvak said as they rushed through the corridors of the D’Artagnan, Joron and I have decided that I will withdraw back into Del while you – attend – to your Lady. Del assures us he can ‘host’ us both until…
Sulu stopped moving, Kam’s fury halting his body in its tracks.
Oh no, I was promised your participation, Kam growled.
No! Sulu snapped. I’m not letting you near her!
Go ahead, stop the three of us, was Kam’s delighted reply.
What ‘three of you’? Sulu demanded. Tarvak just said he and Joron…
Forgive me, Captain, Tarvak put in, his tone one of stoic guilt, but Joron did agree, and I am honor bound to…
Sulu blinked in disbelief. You know that was coerced, he said.
Nevertheless, Joron gave his word.
Tarvak, you don’t know what he…
I understand his potential well enough, Captain, but Romulans do not easily give their word, nor do they break it once given.
Joron did say done, Kam added gleefully. Even you have to honor a Haven done deal.
Sulu hesitated. The thought of bringing his demon to Jilla – especially while she was so vulnerable – was enough to make him sick to his stomach. Yet the closer he got to Sickbay, the stronger his need for her became. The urgency was simmering beneath his skin, and he had no doubt that when he saw her, touched her, it would burst into all-consuming flame.
Frantically his mind sought for a rationale, something he could put to Tarvak that would gain his aid in preventing Kam from taking advantage of Jilla’s condition. But all he could come up with were reasons for it. She was in the blood fever, she would barely notice he was sentient, let alone which sentience he was. As long as her sense of tia told her she was with her Bonded, she wouldn’t even be aware of his mind. And – he reluctantly admitted – Kam’s emotions could be a much better match for the hunger of pon farr than would his gentle, romantic notions.
What th’ hell you t’inkin’ boy! Del chided angrily. You jus’ gonna throw that li’l gal to th’ damn wolves?
No, he isn’t, Wen’s voice suddenly intruded. Master Ensee, I need your help. Please, allow Master Tarvak and Master Joron to aid the Captain and his Lady as they see fit.
Master who? Del asked, and Joron said, Release me now, Del, so I can go to Tarvak and share this fascinating union.
How Sulu gonna hold all y’all? the engineer tried to stall.
Joron chuckled. The body might be smaller, but the gifts aren’t.
Sulu tried not to remember the strength to which the blue Loonie juice had amped up his abilities, but it was difficult with Kam laughing in the back of his head.
You a right bastard, ‘Master’ Joron, Del snarled.
C’est la vie, the Romulan replied airily.
Sulu felt the mental jolt as Joron’s essence joined Tarvak’s within him. He swayed, and felt Del’s steadying hand.
“Jus’ go on an’ help her, mon ami,” he murmured. “An’ I be prayin’ fo’ both o’ya.”
“Take Wen to Courtland,” Sulu managed, and Del nodded. He turned, moving with Wen back the way they had come, and Sulu took a deep, fortifying breath, opened the Sickbay door, and begged Jilla to forgive him.
“All right, people, clear out now!” Lian Rendell said loudly as Sulu stepped into Sickbay. Everything within him was fixed on Jilla’s struggling figure on one of the Sickbay beds, so much so that he didn’t see Jeremy Paget, and barely heard the murmured, “God be with ya, babe,” as the Security Chief moved past him. He did see Dr. Rendell releasing the straps that held Jilla’s panting body, then his vision went dark red as she flew into his arms. He heard the hiss of the closing door behind him, but everything else was lost in the exhilarating rush of pure hedonistic desire. Kam crooned, “Oh, yeah, baby, come on!” as Jilla’s hungry mouth devoured his, hoarse Vulcan syllables erotic against his lips and in his mind. He didn’t know who first started tearing clothing off, but once it was begun, they were both equally eager participants. He was aware of the tidal wave of sexual heat engulfing both Tarvak and Joron and the sharp, immediate union of their minds only fed his desperate need. Kam was in control of his body, throwing Jilla to the deck, following her down with harsh urgency. She moved, swift and graceful, getting to her hands and knees, her shoulders dropping to the deck, presenting her burning genitals to him with a moan of pure feral hunger. He felt Kam grabbing her hips with his hands and fought savagely to take the fore.
Then Tarvak whispered, Kamikaze, come to me, in a tone that was dark and too familiar. Sulu shuddered as terror swept through him, but Kam turned to the compelling voice.
I have need of you, my pet, Tarvak continued. Come, bring your pleasure to an old man.
Again, Sulu trembled, the images in his mind too close, too threatening.
See what I have for you, my beloved? Tarvak murmured, and Sulu saw him presenting Joron, the younger Romulan naked and erect and incomparably lovely. He craves your touch, my beautiful prince, Tarvak said. He wants your mastery. Give it to him, and share with me all I deserve.
Sulu’s panic was nearing the breaking point. Then, as he had all the years of his existence, Kam dropped a veil of darkness over Sulu’s mind and suddenly there was no sense of him, or of Tarvak, or of Joron. Sulu was alone with the need and heat and passion of his wife; their blood burning together, her moans becoming demanding and insistent. And for the next three days, it was all he knew.
Spock carefully drew his hand from Lahs’ and stood. “My apologies, Miss Gollub,” he said, then called in his best Captain’s voice, “Lieutenant Commander, get up.”
The Russian blinked at him, flushed, then got quickly to his feet. Daffy simultaneously threw her arms around him and gave a sharp smack to the back of his head. Spock turned to Ruth and Calaya.
“Miss Wheal,” he acknowledged. Ruth, are you and Sarek well?
Both fine, salishe, Ruth replied, though I’d like to know why Lahs was kissing your hand. Her sense of jealousy was countered by wry amusement.
Gratitude, my wife, for finding a possible solution to his dilemma, and Wen’s, Spock told her, then returned his attention to the young Indiian. “Where are Captain Sulu, Mr. DelMonde and Mr. Kolran?” he asked.
“Was there no report from the base?” Calaya asked, her worry clear.
“Let me fill him in,” Ruth suggested, and sent to his mind everything Calaya had told her and Daffy.
Spock frowned. “We have heard nothing from either Sulu or DelMonde,” he said, and started for the intercom.
It signaled before he could reach it. “Captain,” Alan Mulhouse said, “Commander Paget from the D’Artagnan for you.”
“Oh Christ, Jilla,” Ruth sighed and tried not to notice Calaya’s stiffening.
“Yes, Mr. Paget,” Spock said into the comm.
“Just lettin’ you know that the Captain got here,” Jeremy’s voice said. He sounded a little haggard, but calm. “Wen and N.C. are talkin’ with Commander Courtland now.”
“Aema, sumin tu,” Calaya breathed, and Ruth had to smile at the rush of relief through the Indiian. It was very much like Jilla’s reaction whenever Sulu had been in danger.
“Mr. Paget, do you know what happened on the base?” Spock asked.
“Yes, sir.” From the tone of his voice, the TerAfrican’s face was clearly scowling. “Seems Intelligence is deeper in this thing than we thought. N.C. says that they somehow triggered Wen’s Intelligence code and were able to telepathically pick up everything. Mr. Courtland and I are preparing a report for you and Captain Kirk now. N.C. and Wen will be beaming over in a few minutes.”
“Thank you, Mr. Paget. I will look forward to reading it. Spock out.”
“Hey, what about…?” Ruth began, and Spock shook his head.
“That debriefing must wait until Mr. DelMonde and Mr. Kolran are on board.” And Joron and, with luck, Tarvak, he added privately.
Ruth gave him a mental grin. Well, I hope the honorable Romulan warriors had the decency to leave Jilla and Sulu alone.
Having been well acquainted with them, Spock returned, I have no doubt of that at all.