You and I will make each night a first
I wanna stand with you on a mountain
Every day a beginning
I wanna bathe with you in the sea
Spirits rise and their dance is unrehearsed
I wanna lay like this forever
They warm and excite us
Until the sky falls down on me
For we have the brightest love

The music thundered in Del’s head, the depth of emotion mocking, taunting him. He groped blindly for the sapphire he knew had to be in his drawer somewhere. The emptiness of his quarters beat at him. There would be no warm bodies cradling him, no sweet devoted minds feeding him the blue salvation. All he had to look forward to was discipline or sapphire’s midnight coma, stress and work and lonely, lost, passionless nights. No golden light, no warm, honey-sweet, sugar angel – never again, never again.

A desolate howl began in his throat, cut off by the sudden chill of dark laughter that wasn’t coming from the demons or from his own thoughts.

At the Clave, a multitude of times, sensing something terribly wrong and doing nothing, too wrapped up in your own misery to get involved in the misery of others, the cold breath of The Divine Wind whispered to him. In my misery, Cajun. You knew, didn’t you? You felt it. And you did nothing. Nothing! And for that, you’re going to pay.

Leave me alone! Del screamed.

Just retribution, my black-eyed boy. If you’d interfered then, if you’d cared enough then, it might have been stopped. But you didn’t, and now it’s too late, and this is your due.

Del felt the deep breath, the gathering of emotion, the aiming of it as a laser to a circuit board. He shuddered, not even trying to erect a defense against the memories that he never wanted to see. All those times at the Clave… The feeling of evil and torment… begging and pain… terror and frozen agony… the emotional storm that cut like razors and left the soul helpless and horrified and bleeding… power being thrust into the void that was left as the engorged shaft was thrust…

In anguish, Del closed his eyes against the pictures he could no longer stop. The Divine Wind was right. This was his due. Too black-hearted to listen when he call, to try an’ stop the sick-fuck. No wonder no one love you – no wonder she never stay wit’ you.

The wind howled through him, freezing him with despair and grief. You no use to no one, son, he told himself bitterly. You do the only t'ing left to you, non? You save her from havin’ to watch out fo’ you. If you hold on long enough, hard enough, you maybe even take a li’l o’ The Divine Wind to hell wit’ you.

He jerked open the drawer he was searching for, grasping the vial of sapphire. He flipped the cap open with his thumb, counting as the pills poured into his hand. Fifteen. That oughta be ‘nough. He downed them in two swallows.

The angels flew unseen around the black-eyed boy’s head, and wrung their hands in grief. They examined the cold malice that surrounded his despair, and called out to the only defense against the Divine Wind that he knew.

Cobra! Gypsy! Help him!

Jeremy and Sakura had left the rec room, going to her cabin and a pipeful or two – or twelve, Paget thought – of Rigellian. They both knew Sulu didn’t mean to be either callous or cruel; his all-consuming love for Jilla simply left no place for them. They understood without the necessity of words between them and only sought to bury their shared loss in each other and the relaxation of the reality-softening smoke.

Jeremy stripped off his tunic and boots as Sakura filled the pipe. He climbed into her bed, taking the pipe from her as she removed her own boots, then crawled onto the mattress beside him. He put his arm around her, she cuddled to his chest, the fragrant smoke wafting around them in companionable if sorrowful silence.

Too bad I’ve gotta go back to the Hood, he mused. Saki and I could make a nice couple, even if we’d both know it was transference and probably not permanent. It could help the transition back to normal life after Dreamland and the loonies. He sighed, and the yeoman glanced up at him, questioning.

“I’m gonna miss you, Gypsy,” he said aloud.

She smiled a sad smile. “Me, too, Cobra,” she returned. Then she abruptly stiffened, and Jeremy sat up, knowing that she must be hearing the words that were suddenly invading his head.

Cobra! Gypsy! Help him!

His mind was flooded with the picture of Noel DelMonde falling into a sapphire coma, the drug taking the engineer down farther and farther, past the point of no return. Sakura jumped up off the bed and Jeremy was right behind her. The pipe was left smoldering on her bedside table.

Ruth and Jilla had begun a light, intricate melody, one that let the lyrette and guitar dance around each other, showcasing not only their individual talent but their mastery of harmony and countermelody with one another. Sulu had taken a seat next to Spock and was sipping from a cup of coffee, reveling in the warmth and normalcy. The vestiges of the neurophenes still nagged at him, the uneasy sense of knowing the emotions of those around him, but he was becoming increasingly able to quiet it within his mind. The image Ruth had given him, that of closing a shoji, was a very effective one, and he smiled at the Antari, mentally thanking her once again. She glanced up, nodding to him.

Unexpectedly, a chill ran down his spine, one that carried too-familiar contempt and disdain. He set his jaw, visualizing another screen in his head and very deliberately sliding it shut. Then, on an impulse he didn’t understand and didn’t want to, he created five more, enclosing the presence in a small shoji box. He felt more forming within him, boxes within boxes, squeezing the unwanted awareness into a smaller and smaller place within him.

You can hide from me, and you can hide me from yourself, came the voice of The Divine Wind, but you’ll never be free of me.

Sulu shuddered, building more layers of protection, and heard Ruth’s worried voice. Roy?

I can handle it, he snapped at her. Then he felt Jilla’s concern, her hesitant awareness of his emotional state, and he opened himself to the flow of her love and her acceptance. Ruth started singing and the words strengthened his resolve and his ability.

To hear the song, click here

“She broke down and let me in
Made me see where I’ve been
Been down one time
Been down two times
Never goin’ back again”

Never goin’ back again, he thought at the beast within him. With Jilla’s strength, her devotion and forebearance, you’ll stay locked up where you belong and you’ll never, never get loose again. The amyneurophene created you…

Liar.

…gave you coherence, and together and she and I can stop you every time – easier when the chemicals are completely gone…

They never will be. Neither will I.

…but you’ll never take control of me again. Never!

“You don’t know what it means to win
Come down and see me again
Been down one time
Been down two times
Never goin’ back again”

Sulu stopped the mocking laughter with a final layer of insulation, gratified when even the sense of it disappeared. He fashioned a lock out of Jilla’s love and silently blew both her and Ruth kisses and reassurance.

Never, never goin’ back again.

“Christ, Cobra, get a doctor!” Sakura cried as she and Paget raced into DelMonde’s cabin. The engineer was sprawled on the deck, the empty vial beside him, eyes closed, unmoving, clearly not breathing. His lips were already turning blue.

“Am a doctor,” Paget growled back, kneeling beside the Cajun, beginning mouth to mouth. “Go to my cabin, Gypsy. There’s a medkit under my bunk. Hurry!”

“You’re a…?” Tamura sputtered, and he cut her off.

“I’ll explain later. Go!”

Damn you, NC, Jeremy thought bitterly as he mentally counted breaths. What did you go and pull a dumbass stunt like this for? We lost, too, and you don’t see us takin’ the easy way out. Live, you foul-tempered son-of-a-bitch, live!

He felt the consciousness stir beneath him and knew it was being fed to him by something greater than himself.

No use, no good, I fail, all the time, all the years, selfish, heartless bastard, only seein’ to my own survival…

You’re not keeper of the universe, Jeremy told him harshly. With all the pressure in you, no one expects you to do anything other than see to your own survival.

If I stopped it, if I save him…

Distorted images came to Jeremy’s mind, the truth of what Del was feeling, the person he was feeling it about, and Paget’s own rage and despair nearly overwhelmed him. But his psychological training asserted itself, the training he’d pursued precisely because of that rage and despair.

There wasn’t anything anyone could do against that sick-fuck monster, he told DelMonde. He got his hooks into Kam before you and I were even Clavists. It takes less than 72 hours for someone that skilled at manipulation to permanently warp someone with Kam’s gifts. You might have been able to stop individual incidents, NC, but there was no way you could have saved him. He poured all his knowledge into the engineer’s brain, all the hard-won truth and acceptance of the reality and the helplessness of the situation. He survived it, Paget shouted at the Cajun, and he controls it and Jilla helps him and will for the rest of their lives.

The Divine Wind never be controlled... I let it loose… it a part o‘ the Beast I not destroy… DelMonde’s voice was faint, hopeless.

That’s the last of the chemicals talkin’, babe, Jeremy told him. You’re not a god. You don’t know all, and you don’t see all. This isn’t your fault.

Paget became aware of Sakura reentering the cabin, and of the medkit being pushed into his hand. He straightened and said to the yeoman, “Keep up the CPR,” then quickly opened the kit while Sakura took his place over DelMonde’s body. He fitted a hypospray with an injection of the Haven chemical known as angel. It was a general detox agent for all Haven drugs, usually used to combat the cardiovascular overload of venus, but it would flush the paralysis of an overdose of sapphire just as effectively. He pressed the hypo to the Cajun’s arm and counted to twenty. DelMonde’s chest rose with a breath of its own, and Sakura fell against the engineer’s body, sobbing gratefully.

“Listen to me, you dumb Cajun,” Jeremy growled. “It’s not your fault, no matter what the damned Divine Wind tried to tell you. He’s s sick-fuck, manipulative motherfucker and all he wants is to cause pain and despair. He feeds on it, NC. The only way to fight him is to accept what he says and smile at him.” Just like I do when he tells me I’m sick and weak and hopeless and a fool for loving him.

“Divine Wind?” Sakura said. “What’s Kam got to do with…”

“I think he’s been fuckin’ with NC’s head,” Jeremy returned grimly. “It’s the last of the amyneurophene wantin’ to keep the emotional gravy-train rollin’.”

“That not mean it not the truth,” came a dull rasp from DelMonde’s mouth. Faintly Jeremy was aware of the same Intelligence that had given him the reasons for Del’s condition giving them to Sakura.

“Well, of course it’s the truth,” Sakura said sadly. “One thing Kam’s good at is seeing through your emotional defenses. He uses the truth like a katana and slices you to bits with it.” She gently reached out, brushing Del’s hair away from his forehead. “Cobra’s right, Del. If you accept it and face it and tell him ‘yeah, so what?’, he loses his strength.”

“If it not fo’ me, he might not be The Divine Wind…” DelMonde began.

“Bullshit!” Jeremy snapped. “That’s just what he wants you to believe. It’s how he’ll gain control over you. Don’t let him, NC. Don’t give him that power.”

“Smile at him, Del,” Sakura affirmed. “Tell him, yeah, okay, I did – whatever he wants you to admit – but I can’t change it and we both have to live with it and I can accept it.” She put her finger against the engineer’s lips as he started to speak again. “And then do just that. It isn’t easy…”

“But did somebody ever tell you life was?” Jeremy added.

DelMonde was struggling to rise from the deck, and both Paget and Tamura helped him to sit up. “How I face it?” he whispered. “I fail him, I lose Ruth…” he swallowed, closing his eyes. “How I face her?”

“Like we do,” Sakura murmured, and she smiled at Jeremy. “With replacements.”

The Cajun cocked his head, his dark eyes opening. “Who gonna replace an Antari?” he wanted to know.

“Yeah, well…” Paget replied, scratching his beard, “it might take more than one person at that.” And he glanced meaningfully at Tamura.

Sakura stifled a giggle, and gave DelMonde a kiss. “We left some Rigellian in my quarters, Cajun,” she whispered, “and there’s plenty for three.”

“Come on, NC,” Jeremy urged softly. “Let’s all help each other through this, huh?”

“I know we aren’t exactly a devoted and adoring harem,” Sakura rejoined teasingly and it made DelMonde snort. He groaned as he pushed himself to his feet.

“Hell, what else I got to do?” he growled.

They smoked, made passionate, playful love, smoked some more, made not-so-playful but twice as passionate love and smoked again. After a third round of teasing foreplay that wasn’t really intended to culminate in actual intercourse, but did, DelMonde stretched out on the bed, his head resting on Jeremy’s thigh, Sakura snuggled to his side.

“You give mighty fine prescriptions, doc,” he sighed.

Paget’s fingers rumpled the engineer’s hair. “No charge, babe.”

“You’re really a doctor?” Sakura asked.

“Should I show you my diploma?” the TerAfrican dead-panned.

“A real, no-shit medical physician?”

“Well, a psychiatrist, which means I’ve got a medical degree, yeah.”

The yeoman reached up and slapped the brown arm. “Why didn’t you ever tell me?”

“It a big, deep, dark secret, cher,” Del whispered.

“You knew?” Sakura said, then smacked the engineer’s chest as he nodded. “So who else knows?”

“The admiralty,” Paget admitted. “Sulu. My parents.” He shrugged. “That’s about it, other than the hospital where I interned.”

She glanced up skeptically. “You went into Fleet at 18, Cobra. When did you have time to…”

“At the Academy,” he and DelMonde answered together, then both started laughing.

Tamura tried to maintain her air of indignity, then she, too, broke into giggles. Finally she calmed down and managed, “why?”

“Why what?” Paget asked. “Why I became a doctor or why it’s a secret?”

“Yes.”

“He a doctor ‘cause o’ Kam,” Del returned, sitting up and reaching for the pipe. “’Cause o’ what the sick-fuck did to him. He need to find out if anyt’ing be done fo’ the boy.” He took a deep hit of the Rigellian. “He not tell nobody ‘cause he a sneaky, secretive l’il bastard at heart. It why he in Security.” Jeremy thumped him on the back and he started coughing. “It true, non?”

“And I saved your life,” the security man complained.

“I knowed you be sorry for it sometime, but I not t’ink it be so soon,” Del managed through choking laughter.

“What discipline?” Sakura rejoined.

“What what?” Jeremy replied, startled.

“Not that kind,” the yeoman chastised with a grin. “Psychological. Freud, Jung, Skinner…”

“Skinner should go live in a box of acid,” Jeremy scowled, “and Sigmund needs to have his head examined.”

“Jungian,” Sakura and Del said together, then Tamura’s face lit up. “Oh, Cobra, I would so love to watch you and Dr. Han…” DelMonde snorted and she smacked him. “…get into a rip-roaring discussion of the merits of Jung versus Freud!”

Paget shook his head. “Not gonna happen, babe. My secret needs to stay secret. I work best when no one knows I’m workin’ at all.” He grinned. “The very opposite of security.” He leaned over, gently kissing the yeoman’s cheek. “I can trust you, right, Gypsy?”

“Only if you tell me more about why you became a doctor than to keep tabs on Kamikaze, Cobra,” she replied with a smile.

“Lecture number 203,” Del mumbled, gave Paget an alluring grin, then sighed and settled himself back down on the bed. “I heard this one,” he said to Sakura.

“Well, at the Clave – especially at parties – when it was becomin’ obvious that there was somethin’ more goin’ on between Sulu and the sick-fuck…” Jeremy began and Sakura listened attentively while Del drifted into a healing, Rigellian induced slumber.

The official debriefing was a somewhat chaotic affair. More than once, Captain Kirk had to raise his voice to be heard over the contradictions, corrections, clarifications, embellishments and additions the seven undercover officers made to each other’s reports. More than once, Jim noted Daffy Gollub deliberately interrupting Pavel Chekov, questioning his veracity, then not-very-contritely apologizing for the ‘mistake’ when one of the other members of the team corroborated whatever the Russian had reported. Sulu seemed distracted, mentally shaking himself every few minutes, but Dr. Han had told Jim to expect that sort of reaction for a few weeks. It was only the helmsman taking the time to close the shojis in his head that had a tendency to slide open on their own when a lot of people were present. Then, of course, Jade had had to explain the shojis.

Noel DelMonde was casual in the extreme, his accent more pronounced than ever. Jim supposed that was from the month-long xenoneurophene trip and being away from the formality of Starfleet. Yet there was a hidden heaviness about him, a sense of despair concealed, and Jim finally ascribed it to the poet’s soul he knew was at the core of the engineer’s being. Ruth Valley seemed calm and happy, her eyes lingering on her Vulcan husband. One would never have guessed that the Antari had almost died more than once during the course of the mission – or that her artificially increased keheil talents, which was a more frightening thought than Kirk cared to admit, were the reason two of the other team members were also still alive. Sakura Tamura had retransformed from the smoke-clouded Rigel-head into the quiet, efficient yeoman. She alone – with the exception of Pavel Chekov – seemed to have had no trouble shedding her Sevrinite disguise.

But the captain was most impressed with Jeremy Paget. The mission commander’s summary was complete without being unnecessarily verbose. He took responsibility for every wrong decision without either too much or too little self-recrimination. He acknowledged where Starfleet’s intel had been flawed, and where he had made critical decisions that had put the team in danger. He gave appropriate commendation for certain of the team’s actions, and was restrained but firm in the one or two areas in which he felt one or more of the team members had acted inappropriately. All in all, he was a concise, respectful, confident, no-nonsense officer. Jim, while casting no aspersions on his own Chief of Security, envied Jack Aronsen.

There was much scientific and diplomatic follow-up to be conducted, but at last, Jim was satisfied with the reports. He waited while Spock asked a few detailed questions, and when the Science Officer nodded to him, indicating that he, too, was satisfied, Jim stood.

“My congratulations on a very successful mission,” he told the crewmembers before him, “and my commendation on your handling of it. You achieved all of your objectives above and beyond Starfleet’s hopes and have provided us with information on previously unknown situations which can now, thanks to your efforts, be appropriately investigated and monitored. I have been authorized to award each and every one of you Starfleet’s Medal of Honor for actions above and beyond the call of duty.” He smiled at the pleased, surprised, grateful expressions on the team members’ faces. “And with that, ladies and gentlemen, this mission is officially over.” He turned to the Hood’s Security Chief. “We’ll certainly miss your contributions here, Mr. Paget.”

“Thank you, Captain,” the TerAfrican replied.

“If you ever decide you’d like to change ships…”

“I’ll consider it, sir,” was the response. “Thank you.”

When the senior officers left the room, everyone breathed sighs of relief. Going through all they had experienced hadn’t been easy; making it sound professional and dutiful was even more difficult. Ruth had risen to join her husband, but Jeremy had stopped her with a, “I’d like to talk with you, Lieutenant.”

“Am I in trouble?” she asked impishly, then turned to Spock. “I’ll be home soon, beloved.”

The Vulcan’s eyebrow rose curiously, but he nodded and walked out of the briefing room.

Ruth smiled after him, then faced Paget. “What’s up, Jer?”

“I thought you’d want to know,” he began, and was interrupted by DelMonde’s rough voice.

“Don’t you be tellin’ tales on me,” the engineer warned.

“I’m goin’ back to the Hood,” Jeremy countered. “I won’t be here to watch your ass, boy.”

“What happened?” Ruth asked, frowning.

Sulu, who had been talking with Daffy and Pavel, suddenly jerked his head up. “Suicide?” he managed.

“Shield, Kam, shield,” DelMonde growled, but the helmsman moved around the table toward him.

“My fault,” he rasped, his dark eyes stricken. “The damned Divine Wind…”

“Not your fault, son,” Del countered. “My weakness.”

“Suicide?” Ruth demanded. “What are you talking about?”

Paget sighed. “Look, Spike, Cajun had a bad moment. The xenoneurophene makes it doubly hard on him…”

“She know how I feel,” Del interrupted.

“And the past month hasn’t helped matters any…” Sakura joined.

“I’ve got it locked away now,” Sulu was saying to DelMonde. “I won’t let it get out ever again.”

DelMonde looked plainly skeptical, but said nothing.

“Will someone please let the rest of us poor, mind-blind schlubs in on whatever the fuck you’re talking about?” Daffy demanded.

“Cajun decided to clear out his sapphire prescription in one go,” Paget grumbled. “But Saki and I got to him in time and he’s fine now.”

“Oh, Del…” Ruth said, the anguish evident in her tone and in her huge, sad, purple eyes.

DelMonde waved his hand. “It a dumbass t'ing t' do, I know,” he acknowledged, frowning at Paget.

“It was my fault,” Sulu repeated.

“Mere de duin, it nobody’s fault but mine,” Del sighed wearily.

“How could it be your fault, Sulu?” Pavel put in.

The helmsman stared at the Russian, then abruptly turned away.

“The Divine Wind,” Ruth murmured. “It’s still there.”

Sulu’s eyes closed. “It’s behind the shojis, Ruth,” he said.

“What has that got to do with…?” Daffy began.

“It try to make me despair,” Del answered. “It feed off negative emotion, jus’ like the Beast.”

“Sick-fuck’s perfect test case,” Gollub mused softly. Sulu winced.

“But it not matter none now,” the engineer continued. “I done wit’ the stupid bout o’ self-pity.”

Ruth moved to his side, kneeling down on the deck next to his chair. “Del, I’m so sorry,” she whispered.

DelMonde’s eyes closed for a moment, then he looked up, directly into Ruth’s. “We work this out once before, babe,” he said. “I not help what I feel, you not help who you love…” He held up his hand to forestall her protest. “…most,” he added. “The li’l blue pills make me forget that – make me wanna forget that – an’ I acted on that forgettin’.” He shook his head. “But we home now, an’ it not matter no more.”

“Del… I…” Ruth stammered. “I don’t know what to say.”

“I still got a friend?”

Ruth laughed, though there were unshed tears in her eyes. “Winter, Spring, Summer and Fall,” she said, then leaned down and gently kissed his cheek.

“You two wanna get a room?” Daffy asked dryly.

“Daphne, she is a married woman,” Pavel reproved. “I am certain she would never…”

“Unlike people who aren’t married but play like they’re just as committed?” she snapped.

“Dafshka…” Chekov began, his eyes weary but resigned. Daffy smacked the back of his head.

“I was talking about the shande putz over there,” she said.

Sulu shrugged, an apologetic grimace coming over his features.

“I’ll be happy to look out for you for the next few weeks, Cajun,” Sakura offered with an innocent smile.

DelMonde glanced up at her, a wicked grin coming to his lips. “How very kind o’ you, li’l Gypsy.”

“So I can get out of this loony-bin with no worries?” Paget put in.

“At least we’re not the flower variety,” Ruth returned.

“Thank the Lord for small favors,” Jeremy quipped, then added “ouch!” as Daffy punched him on the arm.

Jeremy’s duffel was packed, waiting on the transporter platform. After completing a quick mission of its own, the Hood was ready to recall its Chief of Security. Sulu and Jilla, along with the rest of the undercover team, were crowded into the transporter room, saying goodbye.

“Take care of him, Gypsy,” Jeremy said, nodding towards DelMonde, who gave him a grateful nod covered by a pointed scowl.

“I will, Cobra,” Sakura replied, then hugged the TerAfrican. “You take care of yourself,” she whispered. “Find yourself a nice Top to fill your nights.”

Paget chuckled, kissing the top of her head.

Pavel Chekov shook his hand. “It was good working with you, Mr. Paget,” he said, “though I cannot exactly say the experience was a pleasant one.”

“Make it up to Daffy and it’s all the thanks I need,” was the teasing reply. Then Jeremy turned to the person he’d just mentioned. “Till next time, Daffodil.”

“Just promise there won’t be any more shots in the back,” Gollub returned.

“Now you know I can’t promise that,” Paget said. “You never know when I might need to shut you up in a hurry.”

“Schmuck,” Daffy said, standing on tiptoes to give him a smack to the back of his head. The security man raised a hand, rubbing the spot.

“Aw, Daf, I didn’t know you cared.”

She snorted, then moved to Pavel’s side. “I like your height better,” she told him, with an affectionate slap to the back of his head. He rolled his eyes, but he was smiling.

“Take care, Jeremy,” Ruth said, “and thanks – for everything.”

“No charge, darlin’,” he grinned.

“Thank you for bringing Sulu home safely,” Jilla Majiir offered quietly.

“Anything for you, Lady,” Jeremy told her, with a slight bow. She shimmered, her gaze dropping to the deck.

Sulu moved forward and gave the taller man a warm hug. “It was good seeing you,” he murmured. “As always.”

“Likewise, babe,” Jeremy replied. He smiled as he returned the embrace. Sulu took an abrupt step away from him, the almond eyes flashing with sudden, uneasy awareness. Jeremy took a deep breath and bent slightly to whisper, “I guess now you know what it feels like to be Indiian, huh?”

“Jer… I…” Sulu began and Paget shook his head.

“I know,” he said. “There ain’t never been any need for words and you never need to feel guilty for anything concernin’ me.”

The transporter signaled, and from behind it, Transporter Chief Kyle announced, “The Hood’s ready, Lieutenant Commander.”

Jeremy straightened. “Well, so long gang. Stay frosty,” he said, and stepped up onto the transporter disks. Then he turned. “Oh, and Saki, Sulu – say goodbye to Tongo for me. We shared so much….”

There were snorts, chuckles and groans from the others in the room, along with a small questioning noise from Jilla.

“I’ll tell you later, hon,” Sulu told her. There were calls of ‘good bye,’ ‘take care,’ and ‘later,’ and just before the beam took hold, Jeremy raised his hands in the One sign, framing a Cheshire Cat grin.

“Ooh, why didn’t I have anything to throw at him?” Daffy complained.

“Woulda gone right through the beam anyway,” DelMonde drawled. He turned to Jilla. “So, Lieutenant, I miss anyt'ing in Engineering?”

“Come on, Daffy, we’ve still got a lot of data to process,” Ruth said.

“You’d think I’d get a break while she screwed her way back into Spock’s memory banks,” was Gollub’s off-handed comment to Sakura. The yeoman giggled.

“Sulu, I would like to discuss a schedule for refresher drills,” Chekov began, turning toward his helmpartner. Sulu nodded, though his gaze never left Jilla’s form.

As the room quickly emptied, Lieutenant Kyle smiled. It was good, he thought, to have things back to normal.

The End