Spock, Ruth and Calaya were in the transporter room when Del and Wen materialized. Calaya rushed to Del’s arms, and they shared a private moment or two as Wen deferentially moved off the pads.

“Mr. Kolran,” Spock said, “I believe I have a solution to the problem with Lahs.”

Wen glanced eagerly into his eyes, then lowered his gaze. “I don’t want to cause any disruption to the Lieutenant Commander, or his Lady,” he said softly.

“I do not think this solution will,” Spock assured. “Once I realized why the state of pre-Bonding was able to be established within him…”

“My blasphemy,” Wen broke in sadly.

“In part, yes,” Spock returned. “But Lahs is a non-gift, and Mr. Chekov what we call a psi-null – meaning his psionic score is...”

“Absolute zero,” Wen interrupted again, then flushed. “Forgive me, Captain.”

Spock waved it away. “No need, Mr. Kolran. I am gratified to see your native intelligence so integrated into your outward mannerisms. It is a welcome change from the state I knew you in before.”

The boy’s blush deepened, but it was with pleasure.

“At any rate, my solution requires that I aid Lahs in joining with you.”

The intake of breath was heart-stoppingly poignant. “The Bond can be completed?” Wen all but whispered.

“Not, perhaps, as you would expect, Wen, but your unfortunate condition can, I think, be healed.”

Impulsively, Wen dropped to his knees, grasping the Vulcan’s hand, kissing it. “Thank you, Captain, thank you!”

What is it about your hand? Ruth quipped.

It is the only way a slave is permitted to express gratitude without other instruction, Spock replied, and Wen glanced at Ruth, then rose.

Forgive me, my Lady, he said. I mean no disrespect to you or to your Bond.

Ruth smiled. “Not a problem, Wen,” she said out loud.

Joron, Spock addressed the Romulan, then stopped abruptly. Mr. DelMonde, where is Joron?

From the transporter pads, Del turned from Calaya, holding her hand as they both stepped off the pads.

“There a li’l bitty problem there, Captain,” he returned. “The Divine Wind managed t’ get th’ Romulans to promise to – uh – share Jilla’s – uh – ”

Ruth’s already huge eyes went wide. “Tell me you’re joking,” she pleaded.

“There is no need for concern, Lady,” Wen put in. “Masters Tarvak and Joron told me they had a plan to isolate the Captain’s alter from the situation. They will remain sealed with him within Captain Sulu’s mind until the Lady’s condition is dealt with.”

Spock’s eyebrow rose, but he said nothing. Ruth frowned. “Do they realize that could be days?” she asked.

Wen blinked. “Days?” he repeated.

“I not t'ink they count on that, cher,” Del said with a frown of his own. “Even on th’ Loonie juice, I not know if Sulu can keep it together fo’ that long. I started havin’ trouble after only a day myself.”

“There is little we can do under the circumstances,” Spock began, and Ruth touched his arm.

I’ll call Rendell and tell her what’s going on, she said. She can at least monitor Sulu’s vital signs.

And if something does start to go amiss, my wife? Spock asked.

I can contain the essence of their beings should it be necessary, Wen suggested quietly.

Again Spock’s eyebrow rose.

“He not bein’ optimistic ‘bout his abilities,” Del said. “From what I seen, he got more power in him than a keheil.” He grinned at Ruth. “No offense, darlin’.”

Ruth snorted, and Glorf kicked indignantly. Calaya, who had accepted the use of ‘cher’ seemed not quite as sanguine about ‘darlin’.’

“And speaking about your abilities, Wen,” Ruth said, firmly changing the subject, “just what is Intelligence’s agenda in all this?”

Wen blinked at her. “I’m certain I don’t know what you mean, Lady.”

“The agent likely put all the standard blocks back in place,” Calaya commented. At the Vulcan’s third raised eyebrow, she said, “I’m Captain Kirk’s Chief Yeoman. I have access to classified information.”

Del smiled proudly at her, and her skin sparkled in pleasure.

“At any rate, Mr. Courtland and Mr. Paget’s report will give us that information,” Spock said to Ruth.

“Yeah, ‘cause I sure spill my guts all over th’ damn place,” Del added with a grin.

Wen blanched. “How did you…?”

Del furrowed his brows. “You not remember that, Wen?”

The Romulan shook his head mutely and the engineer scowled. “Damned Intelligence bullshit,” he muttered.

“Let us take one crisis at a time,” Spock suggested. “Mr. Kolran, if you will join me in Sickbay? Mr. DelMonde, I may also require your assistance. And Ruth, Miss Gollub will undoubtedly need your expert hand-holding.”

Because you’ve got Pavel and Lahs and Wen covered, the Antari retorted, then giggled at the sigh in her husband’s mind.

Pavel was sitting in a chair in Sickbay biting his thumb. Daffy was pacing nervously. She’d asked what Lahs was so grateful for, and the Russian had answered that he thought Spock had found a way to ‘deal with’ the Romulan ghost. Daffy had asked suspiciously, “It doesn’t involve your marrying the pretty Romulan Sulu-clone, does it?” to which the navigator had replied, fervently, “I certainly hope not.”

Daffy stopped in front of him, as she had several times already. “So we’re a go for Spock performing a wedding ceremony ASAP?” she said.

“Of course, if that is what you wish,” Chekov replied with a weak smile.

“And we’ll do the religious thing when Rabbi Miller can get here?”

“If we must.”

She scowled at him. “You bet your atheist ass we must!”

He glanced at her from over the tip of his thumb. “You admit I’m not Jewish?”

Her scowl deepened. “Hell no. You’re gonna break the damn glass and ride around in a chair and everything.”

“I can hardly wait,” he mumbled.

She started pacing again, and Pavel went back to worrying his thumb.

“So what did he say?” Daffy asked at the next full stop.

“What?” the Russian asked distractedly.

“About you. About Lahs. About what he’s gonna do about Wen,” the chemist said in exasperation.

“Oh. I don’t know. Something about a circular graph and zero being close to…”

Daffy peered closely at him. “He’s talking about your being a psi-null?”

“I suppose. But it makes no sense.”

“Spock makes no sense?” she retorted, then moved close to him, putting her hand to his forehead. “Bubee, are you sick or something?”

He irritably pushed her hand away. “I don’t know,” he repeated, and in his mind came the memory of something involving spacesickness.

At the next stop, Daffy put her hands on her hips. “Well, where are they already? And don’t say ‘I don’t know.’”

“Then I would hazard a guess that they are somewhere between here and the transporter room,” Chekov nearly snarled.

“Don’t get on your high-horse with me, Pavel Andrevitch,” Daffy snapped, then turned at the sound of the Sickbay door opening.

Pavel steeled himself, for Lahs leapt against his mental barriers with anxious joy. He refused to glance up, and Wen was suddenly kneeling before him, taking his hands.

“It will be all right, soon, beloved,” the Romulan whispered, and the Russian swallowed hard. All he wanted to do at that moment was enfold the lovely boy into his arms and never let go. The pull was just as strong as ever, and the shadowy image of black holes and irresistible need rose in the back of his mind.

Yum yum.

“Wen, Pavel, Lahs – attend me,” Spock said, the tone of his voice a clear command.

Wen got up, nearly quivering in excitement. Chekov rose slowly, glancing furtively at Daffy, who was standing next to Ruth Valley, her arms folded in a stance of belligerent anger.

“Mr. DelMonde will be monitoring the process,” Spock continued, “and will aid me if required.”

Chekov groaned and heard more than saw the engineer’s cat-that-ate-the-canary grin when Del answered. “Jus’ in case you try an’ consummate right here, T-Paul.”

“Not helping, Del,” Ruth said, at the same time as Calaya Wheal’s “That’s not helpful, Noel.”

Chekov took a deep breath, squared his shoulders, then looked up at Spock.

“What am I to do?” he asked.

The mental link with Spock was easily established. Both Pavel and Lahs trusted him and both were equally eager to resolve the entire situation. But when Spock likewise established a link to Wen, Pavel balked. The need was too keen, the desire to devour the bright emerald/blue energy too tempting

Hold the Void at bay, Pavel, Spock instructed.

I don’t know how! the Russian cried.

Like this, ya dumb fuck, Del joined, and Pavel could see him holding out his hand, like a traffic officer directing aircars, but a blue glow emanated from him, increasing to form an ever-expanding shield.

He snorted. That is ridiculous, he said.

Too complicated fo’ ya? the engineer cackled.

Mr. DelMonde, sarcasm is not appreciated, Spock warned. Try it, Pavel. Focus on making the Void obey your commands.

The navigator sighed, but did as he was told. He held out his own hand, his arm stiff behind it, and thought, you will obey me, whatever-you-are.

He heard Noel snort and it angered him, so he increased his concentration. To his surprise, it seemed to work – or at least the mindless hunger abated somewhat.

It always work to make him mad, Del commented and another memory came to him – one of Joron’s disdainful voice: “Still can’t manage it? Do you think if you fail, they’ll send me far, far away? Don’t you realize that where I go, Ve’el goes? It’s really a shame they don’t have bathtubs here isn’t it, Lahs?”

Pavel growled deep in his throat and the shield became even stronger.

Good, Spock said. Wen, the need to Bond is strong, but the danger to you and to Lahs is contained. Use your gifts, bring his mind to yours. He spoke again to the Russian. Let go, Pavel. See Lahs as separate from you, and allow him leave to depart from your mind.

How he gonna do that when he not believe the li’l fella exist in th’ firs’ place? Del drawled.

I do believe he exists, Chekov insisted stubbornly. He is a ghost. Jilla Majiir can perceive him, and I know she does not lie.

Why you not see him then? the engineer retorted.

Because I… I am… not gifted…

Zero light, Pavel, Spock reminded. Infinite gravity.

Da, Pavel grunted, then again addressed DelMonde. I do not see him because I have not allowed myself to see him.

You best take care o’ that, then, non?

Gritting his teeth, Pavel oriented his focus on the place within him where the Lahs-voice seemed to come from. Dim and insubstantial at first, then growing in strength and opacity, he saw himself in Romulan guise – which shifted subtly and slightly, until he knew it was not him, but an actual Romulan. The man was nearly his own age, not much taller but with more grace and delicacy to his form and features. His eyes were the same soft brown, his hair swept away from his forehead and ears as Pavel’s own had been for his impersonation. And there was a weariness in his gaze that seemed at odds with the almost dull compliance that also lingered there.

Lahs? he found himself asking in wonderment.

The Romulan turned to look at him. Master Pavel, came the humble response. Forgive me, I don’t know why I was called back to you – except for the well-being of the young man I have loved since the moment I first saw him.

And I have loved you from that moment, my beloved, Wen’s soft voice murmured. Before Deron knew of you, before he created this abomination within me, I swear, I loved you too!

Give him leave, Pavel, Spock reminded.

Frowning, Chekov said, you may leave me now, Lahs.

Bring him to you now, Wen, the Vulcan repeated. Draw his essence from the prison of Pavel’s body into your own. Join with him, create the union that will still the hunger within you, that will bring your life the meaning it was meant to have.

He – he sounds as if he knows what he’s speaking about, Pavel said nervously, not exactly to Noel, but certainly not to anyone else.

‘Course he does, ya moron, Del supplied. That a salish.

Then all other communication stopped as Wen’s essence reached out, imploring Lahs to take his hand. Pavel watched in amazement as Lahs tentatively took it. The spark of true devotion burned brightly between them and the Void edged forward.

Hold it, Pavel, Spock reminded, and Noel added a helpful, dumb fuck.

Chekov took a deep breath, closing his eyes, strengthening the defense between Lahs and the Void. After a moment in which he was certain it smiled at him, it retreated again.

Lahs and Wen were closer, their forearms now clasping one another’s. Tears of incredulous joy made Lahs’ eyes shine, Wen’s so full of passion and longing that it almost hurt to look at it. Lahs took a step forward, and it was all Wen needed to flow around him, engulfing him in the brilliant blue-green of his being. With a blaze of bright incandescence, a long, clear, perfect note of beauty and clarity filled every part of not only Pavel’s mind, but of those in communion with him. He heard Noel’s voice: Stars have shone forever; I have seen them before, but never held they peace and grace and their beauty was not warm.

Then Spock’s voice, heavy with emotion, said, thank you, Mr. DelMonde.

It ‘bout time I lose th’ pain o’ that particular verse, Noel replied, his tone as gentle as Pavel had ever heard it.

We must leave them to solidify their connection, Spock said. Pavel, I will help you break the tie you still have to Lahs.

At the words, Pavel felt the Void surging forward, the shield he had erected crumbling rapidly.

No time, Captain, Noel said, and with a painful wrenching – accompanied by the echoes of a song the Russian did not know – If I don’t get some shelter, I gonna fade away – he was fully conscious and trembling, only dimly aware of what had just occurred.

“Am I…?” he rasped, then cleared his throat. “Is it done?” he asked. He blinked fog from his eyes to see DelMonde on his knees, with Calaya’s arms around him. Spock held tightly to Ruth, her fingers gentle at his temples. Wen seemed to be in some ecstatic trance. He glanced around for Daffy, and saw her standing, hugging herself, her green eyes bright with tears. “Daf… Dafshka?” he stammered, and she came to him, sobbing openly, pulling his head to her breasts and covering his head with fervent kisses.

There was ecstasy like none of them had ever experienced before. The blatant and unrelenting physical sexuality of the body they all inhabited prevented there from being any sense of deprivation in the purely mental union. Tarvak and Joron played Master and Slave for Kam’s entertainment, Kam receiving all the decadent attention he craved, both from Tarvak’s dominance and Joron’s submission. That he often called Tarvak ‘Cal’ didn’t overly disturb the Romulan: that, after all, was the reason the ploy was working. Kam’s occasional reference to Joron as ‘Del’ was accepted with wry humor. The sheer force of Kam’s hedonism thrilled them in ways that had never been possible within their Bond, for there was no sense of envy or jealousy to mar the variations possible with three minds. They both found themselves wondering if this would have been the interactions of a true Triad, though Tarvak pointed out that, as he had never truly desired a female, the pleasure for him might have carried a certain lack. Joron, for his part, didn’t really miss the feminine component, for though he had and did appreciate woman, he had spent far too many years in devotion to Tarvak for such things to cause him any concern.

Their mental eroticism didn’t waver, refreshed and refueled by the heat of Sulu’s blood and the ferocity of Jilla’s hunger. The only difficulty Tarvak foresaw was the possible reluctance of his beloved to give up this endless sensual completion when their ‘host’ and his mate dropped out of the Vulcan-induced madness. But Joron joyfully reminded him that Paradise waited their return, and as pleasing as this interlude was, the riches of Telan’s lands were far greater – and far more permanent. Those thoughts, however, they carefully kept from Kam. His gifts were more than surprising, but even he, even with the ‘isti’li’ – as they both automatically called the xenoneurophene – could not break into their private communion.

And so they determined to enjoy the soaring sensual reverie as long as they could, and when it was done, to add it to the countless other moments of their perfect, shared, eternal devotion.

Daffy and Pavel spent a great deal of time alone, re-solidifying their relationship. Del and Calaya had decided to stay on the Enterprise, awaiting the outcome of Jilla’s pon farr: Del didn’t think it would be polite to leave without saying goodbye to Tarvak and Joron. Wen remained in seclusion, coming to terms with his new oddly Bonded status, not wanting to return to the Base until Spock had had a chance to study the reports of Jerel Courtland and Commander Paget – and Spock refused him permission anyway. Agent Hernandez had wanted to come aboard to ‘debrief’ Chekov, and Spock had likewise refused that request, though he was well aware it might cause him some problems with the upper echelons of Starfleet. Ruth spent the time happily eating peaches and teaching her son shielding – and trying not to contact the D’Artagnan every half an hour to check on Sulu and Jilla.

The report was more than disturbing. Intelligence had created a sub-section, referred to as the ‘Telecorps,’ specifically devoted to the study and researching of psychic abilities. It was headed by Admiral Patrick Glennon, a fact that Spock found even more disturbing. It was clearly the ‘black ops’ of Intelligence, and its methods were unethical, to say the least. Wen had not been programmed to accost Chekov, but his superiors had taken advantage of the chance encounter, intensifying the xenoneurophene treatment they had been giving the boy, not wanting to lose the opportunity to recapture the Romulan spirits they had used to such advantage previously. They had thought the boy’s condition would cause him to force a Bond with the hapless navigator, and thereby to ensnare Lahs. There was evidence that they knew of the potential of using a psi-null, though the word ‘void’ did not appear in their mental conditioning of the young Romulan. There was an awareness in Wen of a similar case, a Romulan non-gift of a similarly low psionic score, whom they had managed to completely subvert for their own purposes. This slave was controlled by a series of telepathic code-phrases which could be used to unleash his almost limitless abilities for a variety of purposes. The undeniable conclusion – that they had intended, with Lahs, to gain control of Pavel Chekov for the same purpose – filled Spock with righteous indignation.

The Telecorps had also correctly predicted that such an attempt had the potential to call Tarvak and Joron back from the eternity to which they had chosen to escape. There was a link between them and Lahs that was not fully understood, but which they intended, if manifested, to fully exploit. That such an endeavor would have cost Starfleet one of the Nest Captains and one of the Nest’s Chief Engineers didn’t seem of any importance to them at all. Spock was incongruously pleased to have yet another reason to be thankful for the salish: its strictures had prevented Tarvak from returning to his accustomed ‘host’ and had likely thrown a considerable monkey-wrench into the Telecorps’ plans.

As had Sulu’s unusual alternate identity. The Telecorps had, as with DelMonde, kept tabs on the then-helmsman since the near-disastrous mission to infiltrate the Sevrinites, but without knowledge of Kamikaze, they had no way to predict his involvement in the current affair. It was Kamikaze who kept Sulu’s abilities under wraps, and Sulu’s need to keep him imprisoned behind the shojis that kept him from being too bright a target on the Telecorps radar. That, of course, would now likely change. Spock made a mental note to discuss this with his fellow captain at the first available opportunity.

There was little he could do about DelMonde, other than forward all the information at his hands to Jim Kirk on the Lincoln. The engineer’s inherent power would guarantee he would be a person of interest for the Telecorps for the rest of his life. Spock was only glad that his reputation for being difficult had kept him out of their clutches thus far.

He carefully prepared a packet for Yeoman Wheal to carry to Jim, discussed his findings with his First Officer, held a briefing with Chekov and DelMonde – which, of course, included Miss Wheal and Miss Gollub – and waited for the outcome of Jilla’s Time with both hope and careful neutrality.

Sulu woke, feeling like he hadn't slept for a hundred years, and had been repeatedly run over by a starship in the process. He was lying on the deck in Sickbay, Jilla curled contentedly beside him. He was sticky with dried sweat, her secretions and his own, and, in a few places, the dried blood of healing scratches. His head felt uncomfortably full, like someone had stuffed his brain with heavy cotton. He started to raise himself to his elbows and the room spun warningly. Not a good idea, he thought and gently lay back down.

Jilla stirred, murmuring a breathy string of mixed Vulcan and Indiian, snuggling closer to him. Her lush, full body hit a few previously unnoticed bruises and Sulu grunted. Her grey eyes opened.

“Forgive me, husband,” she said with an endearingly faint blush, and Sulu smiled.

“It’s okay, hon,” he returned, then groaned again. “At least, I think it’s okay.” Her blush deepened and he closed his eyes against the increased glow of her skin. Her fingers moved softly against his chest and he tensed – then relaxed when the touch wasn’t followed by anything more blatant. He took a slow, careful breath. “So that’s it?” he asked. “It’s over?”

“Yes, my love,” she replied. “It is over.” The sense of relief that flooded him was far more than he had expected. After all, hadn’t it been one of his favorite fantasies: days of uninterrupted, hedonistic, fierce and soaring sexual gratification? Not, of course, that I know how many days it’s actually been, he added wryly.

Three, give or take a few hours, Joron’s voice said in his head, and he jumped, startled, the movement sending waves of torment through his bruised body.

“Sulu?” Jilla’s worried voice said.

There was the hiss of the door and Lian Rendell’s voice said,

“Congratulations, you survived,” and he opened his eyes to see Jeremy Paget approaching him with a robe. A shift in his gaze told him that Lian had done the same for Jilla.

“Come on, babe, let’s get you patched up,” Jeremy chuckled.

Disoriented, Sulu allowed the TerAfrican to help him to his feet and into a Sickbay bed. He could hear Jilla’s murmured protests, assuring the Haven doctor that she was fine if in need of a little rest. Jeremy turned on the monitors above the bed and they immediately started beeping alarmingly. Quickly he shut them off.

“Not to worry, Sulu,” he reassured. “That’s just because it can’t figure out how to register you and two Romulans at the same time.”

“You know… they’re still…” Sulu stammered.

“Yeah and yeah.” Paget leaned down, his voice low. “They keep out of it?”

Sulu searched his memory, then grinned. “They did,” he answered, “and I think they kept You-Know-Who out of it, too.”

“I figured that part from all the bruises, welts and bite-marks not on Jilla’s body,” Jeremy confided. Then he straightened. “Uh, hello, Tarvak, Joron. I’m Chief of Security Jeremy Paget.”

Sulu shuddered, and Tarvak said, “I am pleased to meet you, Commander.” With another shift, Joron added, “Likewise,” then said, “He’s a pretty one, isn’t he, Tarvak?”

“Joron, behave yourself,” Tarvak responded with the intonation of long, amused habit. Jeremy didn’t know if the smile on Sulu’s face was his own or one of the Romulans’. “Was the information we gleaned from Wen conveyed to Spock?” Tarvak asked.

“Yes, sir, it was,” Jeremy answered. “And there’s a long list of people wanting to talk to you and the captain about it.” He grinned. “And other things.”

“Did he succeed?” Joron said eagerly. “Is the Lady Jilla with child?” He blinked, then said, obviously to Tarvak, “It is said to be a mating drive, Kah-lir.”

Jeremy glanced over at Lian. “Oh please, it’s too early to tell,” she replied. Then she smiled. “But the hormonal levels aren’t dropping and Jilla’s not still reacting so my guess would be yes.”

Sulu bolted up, restrained by Jeremy’s hand on his chest. “Jilla?!” he called with anxious joy.

“Yes, my husband,” came her awed response.

The captain brightened, and if he’d been Indiian, everyone in the room would’ve been blinded.

“You may as well let him up,” Rendell stated. “He’ll self-combust if you don’t.”

Paget grinned again and removed his hand. Sulu leapt off the bed, taking the few steps to Jilla’s, and nearly collapsed over her as he reached it. Clearly, though, his aches and pains and the dizziness of containing the two Romulans wasn’t enough to stop him from hugging the stuffing out of his pregnant wife.

I think it best if you contact Spock so that we can vacate the Captain’s mind, Tarvak said in Jeremy’s brain, and the security man started. I am an accomplished telepath, Commander, the Romulan reminded, and Jeremy could hear Joron’s delighted chuckle.

“Lian, I’m gonna call Captain Spock,” Jeremy said to the Haven.

“You do that, Cobra,” she grinned, and muted the sound from the bed’s monitor, which had begun to beep erratically.

Neither Sulu nor Jilla seemed to notice, lost, as they were, in ecstatic, incredulous bliss.

An entire contingent from the Enterprise beamed over to the D’Artagnan; Spock and Ruth, Del and Calaya, Pavel and Daffy and Wen. Daffy had been a little wary about the young Romulan, but when he’d hugged Pavel – a carefully warm, friendly but no more than that embrace – and had whispered, “Thank you, Lieutenant Commander,” and Pavel had flushed with his usual embarrassment of public displays of affection but no more – she hmphed and was satisfied.

“I trust Lahs is well?” Spock had asked.

Wen’s smile was the brightest any of them had ever seen. “He is with me and we are at peace,” was the quietly joyous response.

“Felicitations, ma petit ami,” Del said to him.

“Thank you, Commander Ensee,” the Romulan replied, and Del frowned.

“Why for you call me that?” he asked.

Wen flushed. “It’s what Commander Paget called you.”

Del’s brow furrowed, and it was Ruth who burst into peals of laughter.

“N.C.,” she managed. “Jer calls you N.C.”

“Nicknames,” Calaya added with a sigh and a shake of her burgundy-haired head.

Dylan Paine was again at the transporter controls, and when Del gave him a warning glare, he almost smiled. “Good to see you again, Commander,” he said.

“Don’ go touchin’ my hair,” Del growled.

Dylan’s lips quirked. “She’d take my hand off,” he said, with a nod in Calaya’s direction.

Ruth grimaced at the sharp kick from Glorf.

Shield, son, shield, she said to him, and heard the echo of both Spock’s and Del’s voice saying the same thing. The two men exchanged swift, surprisingly understanding glances.

When they reached Sickbay, both Sulu and Jilla were in the same medical bed, Sulu sitting propped up on pillows, Jilla between his raised knees, her own legs curled beneath her, resting against his chest. Dr. Rendell nodded to them all but didn’t look up from her medical computer. Jeremy Paget stood next to the bed, his arms folded in casual protectiveness.

“Hey, Spike, Jilla’s pregnant!” Sulu announced happily. Jilla flushed.

“Well, of course she is,” Ruth returned. “And you seemed to have survived well enough.”

Sulu shuddered and Jilla pulled away from him.

“Wen, you’re Bonded!” Joron said with clear delight.

The young Romulan smiled. “Yes, Master. It is a wondrous thing.”

“We share your joy, little one,” Tarvak joined with another shudder, and Sulu’s face went pale.

“You gotta get ‘em outta there,” Del commented to Spock.

The Vulcan nodded. “Will you return to the Afterlife?” he asked Tarvak.

“Yes, the journey calls quite strongly now,” the older Romulan answered. “We do require your aid, however. The Captain’s gifts are – enclosed – and unavailable to us.”

“Kam’s back behind the shojis,” Ruth whispered to Daffy.

“Thank god,” was the chemist’s reply.

Tarvak’s gaze turned to Chekov. “I trust there are no ill effects from your encounter, Pavel?”

“Nyet,” the Russian said, then flushed. “I mean no.”

“At least none that a certain ceremony won’t fix,” Daffy put in with a toothy grin.

“It was good to see you again, my friend,” Tarvak said to Spock. With another shift, Joron added, “and you Del.” He grinned. “Believe it or not, I actually missed you.”

“An’ I be a li’l more gracious in my goodbye this time,” the engineer said. He stepped forward, and said to Jilla, “If you not mind, Mrs. Majiir…”

Jilla blushed and nodded, and Del leaned over, embracing Joron warmly.

“Telan speed, mon ami,” he murmured.

Joron hugged him back. “And good luck with the pretty little Indiian. She’s a good match for you.” He paused. “Almost as good as…”

“We not talk ‘bout that, Jorry,” Del murmured, and the Romulan nodded, sharing the not-quite-healed sadness.

“The Captain is weakening, Spock,” Tarvak rejoined and Del stepped quickly away.

Spock nodded and took Del’s place at the bedside. He placed his hand against Sulu’s face. Sulu’s eyes closed, and there was a deep silence for several minutes. Then both captains sighed and Spock moved away. Sulu fell back against the pillows and Jilla leaned against him, tenderly stroking his face.

“Are they gone?” Chekov asked nervously.

Ruth frowned at him and Del gave his ‘dumb fuck’ look.

“When you are recovered, Sulu,” Spock said, “There is much I need to discuss with you.”

“No need, I know what Tarvak and Joron knew,” Sulu replied, though his voice was weak.

“Damned Telecorps,” Ruth muttered.

“Must I…” Wen began and all eyes turned to him. “Must I return to Intelligence?”

“I think that would be most inadvisable,” Spock said to murmurs of agreement.

“I’ve already called the Vulcan Embassy,” Jeremy said, speaking for the first time. “And I put in a request to the Zehara as well.”

“I suggest then, Mr. Kolran, that you remain aboard the Enterprise until we can find a place more suited to your well-being.”

“Thank you, Captain,” Wen replied, and if Pavel Chekov groaned, it was drowned out by the sound of the solid smack Daffy gave to the back of his head.

It took only another 24 hours to receive a reply from both Vulcan and the Zehara. Both said they would be pleased to accept Wen for training of his gifts. The Zehara had added that her keheils would also help remove that which had been implanted in him by the Telecorps. Spock left the final decision up to Wen, and the young Romulan ultimately chose to go to Antares: being among people who looked like Romulans, he said, would be too difficult for Lahs. Spock arranged with Starfleet Command to divert there after typically subtle hints about the attention revealing all the information he had in his possession would garner. After the decision was made, Del and Calaya requested permission to take the Gettysburg and return to the Lincoln. Spock, of course, granted it, and gave Calaya the packet of information for Jim Kirk. His and Ruth’s farewells to the couple were warm and unmarred by any lingering discomfort, save that of Glorf’s protests. Del commented to Calaya that ‘we gotta get us one o’ those,” to which the Indiian had blushed prettily. Daffy had arrived in the hangar with a letter – an actual, hand-written letter – for Rabbi Miller, and promised Del that there would be a HUGE reception once their schedules matched up, and on that occasion, he could tease Pavel all he wanted without fear of damage to the back of his head. Del had insisted he kiss the bride-to-be right there and then, lingering over it until Calaya had, with a wide grin, hit the back of his head.

Before leaving orbit, Ruth called the D’Artagnan, getting Lian Rendell’s solemn promise that she’d contact them with news of the baby’s gender as soon as she had it. She said a gushing, emotional farewell to both Sulu and Jilla, who were still in Sickbay, and was in tears before she closed the comm link.

Shield, ara, shield, Glorf giggled and she grinned, but slapped her stomach just to make sure he didn’t forget who was boss.

“And do you, Pavel Andrevitch, take this woman, Daphne Esther, to be your lawfully wedded wife, to have and to hold, for richer and for poorer, in sickness and in health, to love, honor and cherish all the days of your life?”

Pavel Chekov smiled at Daffy Gollub. Her hands were held in his, the new, bright gold rings gleaming on the fourth fingers of their left hands. The chapel of the Enterprise was filled with as many crewmembers as it could hold. Ruth stood next to the chemist, radiant in her dress maternity uniform. There was no comparison, though, to the radiance of the woman who smiled expectantly back at him.

“I do,” he said solemnly.

“Then by the power invested in me by the customs of Starfleet and the Federation, I now pronounce you husband and wife,” Spock completed. His eyebrow rose in pleased finality. “You may, Lieutenant Commander, kiss your bride.”

Daffy grinned impishly and leaned forward. Pavel took her into his arms, giving her a deep kiss, adding the flourish of an equally deep backward bend. The assemblage burst into applause. He set his wife upright and she threw her arms around his neck.

“I love you, Pavel Andrevitch,” she whispered joyfully.

“And I love you, my Dafshka,” he replied.

The End