Too many damn doors. Sulu stood in the middle of 'his' quarters and turned slowly around once more. Doors, three of them, and no guards outside them. He was naked here, and blind. There was no panel of viewscreens over the desk to keep him informed of every move made by anyone on the ship. The Brig had been a haven compared to this.
"I trust you will be comfortable, Mr. Sulu," Spock said. Sulu pivoted at the Vulcan's voice. He'd been standing silently just inside the doorway, one of the doorways, and Sulu had nearly forgotten about him. The absence of the neat beard stopped his automatic defense posture.
"Comfortable?" He laughed, a little ironically. "In time, I suppose, Mr. Spock."
The Vulcan nodded. "You have a computer terminal; feel free to use it for any information you need. Miss Valley will be happy to assist you."
Sulu smiled. Miss Valley. The Antari was to be his, for a while anyway. We'll see about that 'for a while,' won't we, Ruth?
"Should you require anything else, I can be reached in my quarters," Spock said, then left the room. After the door closed, Sulu saluted sardonically, then surveyed the room again. The bed was too small, there were too many plants. Anything of any use was locked in a case that he didn't know how to open - almost his entire weapons collection. His entire weapons collection, he corrected. There were some items noticeably absent - whips, agonizer, tamer - and two notable additions: the Takeda katana and wakazashi. In his own universe, those belonged to his older brother - not that my family would've allowed me to keep them after... He automatically buried the bitter memory.
There were several paintings, pen and ink drawings really, and he recognized the touch if not the style or contents. His work. He hadn't painted in years, not since he'd been accepted into the Academy. A soldier didn't have time for art.
He studied one of the drawings. It was of a willow tree, graceful, swaying - and one had to look very closely to see that each leaf was really a delicate spiral galaxy. He smiled, genuinely pleased. Beautiful, even if the concept is ridiculously optimistic. He shook his head and stepped away. Sheep, all of them, How am I going to get acculturated to that? He paced the length of the room, inspecting. Books, wooden practice swords, some sort of Buddha statue - don't tell me he's religious - a carved dragon on the shelf above the bed. There was a full set of Takeda samurai armor in the corner, and he felt a brief twinge of envy. His family would have never allowed him the honor. He crossed to the wardrobe. Kimonos, civilian tunics, jumpsuits, one dress uniform. Nothing even vaguely like he was used to wearing on leave. He took a deep breath and closed his eyes. Somehow he was going to have to get used to this.
He heard a hiss from the door he'd entered, and turned sharply, clamping down on the tension. It was Ruth. Damn it, I'm jumpy. If anyone sees - different universe, they wouldn't do anything. Still, I wish I could block off those damn doors.
Ruth set a pack down just inside the door. She looked around wistfully, then swallowed and smiled at him.
The tension abruptly altered its focus. She was here, she was his. Why whoever had kept her was being so generous he didn't know and didn't care. He wanted her, and he wanted her now. "Antari," he said softly, "Come here."
She blinked, and he saw her steeling herself. "There are a few things we should discuss..." she began.
"Later," he told her, and moved toward the bed. "Come here."
"Sulu..."
His eyes hardened, and his voice became silky and very seductive. "I said come here, Ruth."
She shuddered, but came toward him. Once in arms' length, he grabbed her, pulling her to him. She yielded so quickly that he was almost disappointed.
There was nothing disappointing about her performance. He'd heard all his life about Antari perfection, and he was very pleased to find out it was the truth. She took all he gave; more than took, she reveled in it, and gave as freely as she got. He wasn't used to getting such satisfaction without the attendant games. He wasn't used to genuine affection and passion with no ulterior motive, no calculating, no thought of exchange, service for security.
She held him now, not the manipulative, self-satisfied smugness of the usual game-players, nor the cloying stickiness of a woman desperate to know she'd pleased him, not even the shuddering, helpless clinging of one satisfied against her will. She rested against him because she wanted his warmth, wanted to give him hers, nothing more. And nothing less. He wondered idly how he could use the honesty, and she kissed him, smiling, then sat up, getting off the small bed. His mild curiosity turned hard when she went to the wardrobe, pulling on a robe, tossing one to him; then angry as she moved to the replicator, calling over her shoulder, "How do you like your coffee?"
With a rush of fury, Sulu reached over his head to the wall behind the bed and one of his knives - which of course weren't there. The rage built with the frustration, but he held it in check, reminding himself bitterly, different universe, different attitudes, damn it, damn her! "Black," he managed with a pleasant growl, and got up, slipping on the robe.
"Good," she said, "that's the only way I know how to fix it." She turned back to him and smiled as she set the cups down on the desk. He smiled back, concealing the anger, and belted the robe as he moved across the room to her. "I suppose we should start by answering any immediate questions you have about us or our customs," she said, sitting down.
Who taught you manners, woman? was Sulu's first thought, but he kept it to himself. He also kept silent on his second, that it might be entertaining to teach her himself. "Who and what am I supposed to be?" he asked instead.
Ruth flushed. "I can't answer that. We only want to help you adjust to our culture."
"All right, who and what was he?"
"That's not important, you're not him."
Sulu bit back the angry, caustic retort and found a way to rephrase it. "He was what I would've been had I been born here, or so the theory goes, and what I'll be when I'm fully 'acculturated,' right?"
That made her uncomfortable. "Well, I..." She gazed into her coffee. "Yes, I guess so."
"So who and what am I supposed to be?"
"I wish you wouldn't put it like that."
"Antari," he said softly, "you're making me angry." Her eyes flashed up, the fear in them quickly conquered.
"I have a name," she said. "I'd prefer it if you didn't refer to me as 'Antari'."
He grinned, taking note of it. "Whatever you say." It was only seconds before she looked away from his eyes.
"About Sulu," she began, after swallowing a large gulp of coffee. He watched her over the rim of his own cup as she spoke. "His full name is - was Takeda Sulu no Jiro."
Sulu nodded. "Fits. Mine too."
"He was Chief Helmsman and Chief of Security."
A faint smile. "All right."
"He was also a botanist."
"Botanist?" Sulu repeated skeptically.
"And a military historian, a master swordsman, weapons expert, a painter and gambler and needle racer, swashbuckler, career officer and Don Juan." She was smiling wistfully again. "He had a lot of hobbies."
And you loved him, didn't you, Antari? Fool. This may be easier than I thought. And one hell of a lot more interesting. "I only have one," he said deliberately.
"So I've been told," she countered, rashly nonchalant.
So you're going to learn, he thought viciously as he flung his coffee into her face. She screeched in surprise and pain and jumped up from the chair. He waited and watched, half amused, as she fought her first impulse, to return the gesture and drench him with what was left in her own cup. The anger faded from her eyes almost as quickly as it began. Smart girl, he thought, and smiled a warning at her. She sighed and carefully set her cup on the desk. "I'm going to take a shower," she said patiently as she brushed damp hair out of her face. "You're welcome to join me if you like."
His amusement left more rapidly than her anger had. Presumptuous, insolent little bitch! She moved toward the bathroom, and he paced, his gaze coming to rest on the case of weapons. He crossed to it, damning his own ignorance, his fist coming down on the glass-steel panel. If he could get to one of those blades... I'd kowtow to a Klingon slut for an agonizer! Do you need more than bare hands for... He took a deep, steadying breath. Remember where you are, boy. You've got to play it their way or you might as well use a blade on yourself. Seppeku is honorable, isn't it? And stupid. Calm down, you've got no choice. Damn!
He glanced at the door to the bathroom. She said I was welcome to join her. I'll be a gentleman about it. He crossed the room and entered the bathroom.
Ruth splashed her face with cold water, then leaned against the sink. It's not his fault, she told herself. He can't help what he is. It's up to me to keep things on an even keel until he starts adjusting.
He thinks of me as 'Antari'.
So what? He'll learn.
He baits me.
That's the way things work there. It's no excuse to bait him back. That isn't the way to teach him equality, by sinking to his -
Ethnocentric, aren't we?
All right, by using his tactics. He'll learn by example, not empty words. That's what you're here for, Ruth, to show him we don't operate on secrecy and paranoia and one-upsmanship. He's confused and out of place and he covers it with macho bravado - I wish I was a psychologist! That coffee was your own fault. He isn't Roy, teasing.
Roy. Sulu, I miss you.
She swallowed, and quickly moved into the shower, turning the cold water on. She lifted her face to the spray, closing her eyes, and felt a hand on her shoulder.
"Shit, that's cold!" Sulu exclaimed.
"I like it that way," she replied. Sudden warmth flooded over her skin.
"I don't," Sulu said, and she turned, a trifle annoyed. He was grinning. "You did invite me - Ruth." His eyes were shining, boyish, charming, and she sighed and smiled back.
She expected the kiss, expected the demand behind it, realizing that if sex could give him some base to work from, she was more than happy to oblige. She could feel the tension all through him, like walking a tightrope, afraid to lean too far to either side, impossible to go back, terrifying to go on. What was it like to live where that was normal? And how was it different for women? He had expected her to be someone's whore. Was that because I'm Antari or simply because I'm female? How do I get him to trust me?
All her thoughts stopped abruptly with the rising wells of pleasure his touch was bringing her. Details could wait, this was much needed therapy, almost more for herself than for him.
The shower was crowded, and standing became quickly ungratifying. And while Sulu was strong, Ruth knew it wasn't enough to support both his weight and hers through the orgasm she intended to give him. She kicked the door open, and they tumbled to the coolness of the deck. She moved on top of him and from the sound of his groan, he more than approved. She tossed her wet hair away from her eyes, closing them with pleasure.
They flew open again at the hiss of the door. She got one swift look at the surprise on Dr. M'Benga's face. The next thing she knew she was lifting her head from the shower wall, her body trembling more with fear than arousal. Through the steam and still cascading water she could see Ben, on the floor with both arms pinned beneath him, Sulu astride his chest, one forearm held forcefully against his throat. How had he moved so fast? And why? She'd felt his panic, like a bolt of lightning with the sound of the door, but hadn't understood it. She heard Ben's choking rasp and her head started spinning.
Sulu will kill him.
No, he can't, why...
He will, Ruth, feel it, he will!
She pushed herself up. Stop him till you can pull him away -
No, 'bad boy, stop that', worst thing you can do. Sulu, you idiot, there's no reason -
No, not that, either. He's afraid, he's fighting for his life, don't call him a fool. Pull him off -
And he'll knock you unconscious. How can I stop -
His way, his terms, it's the only answer.
She rushed to him, touching but not pulling on his arm. "Sulu, no, please, there's no need!" she pleaded. "He didn't know, he didn't mean it, I'd never do anything like that to you! Please, let him go, it isn't a trap, Sulu please!"
Irony, bitter castigation, panicked hysteria, violent, terror-driven reaction. Sulu lost all desire for the woman, all thought of her, save one of death. He threw her off of him, using the force to propel him up and twisted, facing his would-be assassin. He'd been caught as defenseless as any man could be, and he deserved what waited for him. He'd heard his own death in the hiss of that damned door.
But the man hesitated, savoring his victory. Fool, you screech triumph after you've got your talons in red meat. The adrenalin pumping through him urged his reflexes to even greater speed, and he sprang at the man, no longer the prey. Something inside him told him to question this one, but he could get what he needed from the Antari bitch. And she'd provide such entertainment before he drained her...
"Sulu, no, please, there's no need!"
He heard her voice, felt her fingers clutching his arm with frightened entreaty. Begging, pleading...she's terrified, genuinely afraid. It was no act, not a ploy to save her own skin now that her plan had backfired. Never do anything like that to you. It isn't a trap, I swear it. Sulu please!
Sulu closed his eyes, rocking back on his heels, releasing the man. He was shaking, sweating, his heart hammering against his chest. Wrong place, wrong time, fool, you're signing your own death warrant! Gods, gods... damn it!
He let Ruth help him stand, and waited, trying not to shake with anxiety and frustration and anger as she knelt beside the coughing, rasping man he'd almost killed.
"He thought it was an attack," she explained hastily as she massaged the dark-skinned throat gently. She grimaced, and then man's eyes focused on her and slowly the fear drained from them. "He didn't know that you shared the bathroom," she continued. "It's my fault, I didn't remember to tell him. You okay, Ben?"
The man nodded, then reached out a hand to Ruth, who helped pull him to his feet. He looked warily at Sulu and said, "Maybe I should have knocked, Mr. Sulu, but I'd forgotten about the Captain's announcement. I'm Dr. M'Benga. I live next door."
Sulu clenched his fists against the trembling, and nodded. Ruth's eyes were searching his face. "It was a mistake," she said softly. "Just a mistake, Sulu, please..."
He felt his lips moving and was surprised that he was speaking. "I'm sorry, Doctor," he said in a voice full of hatred and tension and ferocity. "I'm not acculturated yet."
Ruth swallowed, panic starting to pull at her. Get out, Ben, she pleaded silently, before he loses control. "He is," she said out loud. "Really."
"I know," Ben replied, his tone a little easier. Then he grinned. "If I'd been interrupted like that, I'd be testy too."
"Okay," Ruth said. "Don't mention this to the Captain, it was just a mistake."
"All right," Ben agreed. "Sorry, Mr. Sulu."
Sulu's eyes were closed, and Ruth murmured, "Go on, I'll be right in." His eyes snapped open and she caught a flash of feral malevolence before he left the room.
"Ruth, are you sure you..." Ben began.
"It's what I have to do," she replied as she reached to turn off the shower. "Please, try and understand. It's not his fault." She toweled her hair quickly, then walked back into Sulu's quarters.
She locked the bathroom door, then turned, holding her breath, ready to acquiesce to anything he needed. The back of his hand stung sharply across her face, the fingers that closed around her arm were needles of icy fear. "Antari." he growled, his voice a tone of urgent, unrestrained savagery. She whimpered, but stumbled toward him. He pushed her harshly to her knees, then grabbed her hair, pulling her forward till she crouched before him. She gasped in air, then held it again, waiting, silent and fearful.
At the sound of a crash she looked up. The display of full samurai armor had been knocked to the floor, and Sulu was tearing out one of the lacquered lacings that held the pieces together. He turned, his eyes raging ebony fire, and moved toward her, coiling one end of the leather about his left wrist.
She cowered, desperately screaming at herself how much he needed the release, and the scream turned audible as the make-shift whip tore across her back.
Ruth's first scream unlocked the cage he'd been in, the second swung the door open. By the fifth, he was free, by the tenth, cleansed. He was unaware of how long he beat her, unmindful of his own angry snarls. The action of his muscles moving unrestrainedly, the fierce joy of released anger, the sound of the woman crying out with pain that he caused, that was all he knew. No more taunts, no more tension, he was in his element, master of it, and his woman would know his power.
By the time blood was all that remained of the Antari's back, he was purified.
Sulu sank to his knees, breathing deeply, the blood-stained leather dropping from his hand. He was exhausted. This day had taken more out of him than he'd thought. He smiled, shaking his head. Sorry, Ruth, but you don't know how much I needed that. Best tranquilizer there is.
He took a final, cleansing breath, and reached towards Ruth. Another shower was called for, and she'd probably need --
Damn it, I'm back on death row, aren't I? She goes to sickbay and I've had it. M'Benga! If she could get him to keep his mouth shut -
They're all understanding, right?
Sure. Damn it!
He looked up, ready to do some quick bargaining, and fell back on his heels in wonderment. Ruth was laying, curled, her face tight - and fresh skin was replacing the bloody mess of her back. What the - it's healing! All by itself! I don't believe it. He hesitantly touched the new flesh. Soft, warm - tender by the way Ruth suddenly winced. She is, she's healing! The process was slow, but Sulu stared, completely enthralled. Gods, can she heal anything? She said it was her duty to help...because she was a healer. Empathy? Yes, of course! An empath. Dear gods, what I can do with that! Nothing I do will show, it won't get me crucified. Still, a man should be proud of his handiwork...
Not here, fool! And she could still turn me over -
Her word against -
And they'd believe you? And what about M'Benga?
She asked him not to tell Kirk. Is this why she wanted to come here, because she knows I can't hurt her, and -
And she wants to be mine.
Maybe I'm going to survive.
Ruth groaned and slowly rose out of her kneeling crouch. He watched as a shudder went through her, and she swallowed, then whispered "Sulu?"
He let his hand catch her jaw and drew her up into a kiss. "You didn't tell me you were an empath."
"I figured you'd find out," she murmured hoarsely. She started to stand, but Sulu's arms came around her, helping, but forcing her to lean against him. She resisted for only a moment, then gave in to her weakness and let him support her.
"It tires you?" he asked. She nodded, and felt him leading her to the bed, lifting her into it, laying beside her, "Sleep," he said.
"Sulu, I have to..."
"In the morning."
She didn't argue.
Ruth woke early, a little cramped and very hungry. She moved off the bed, and Sulu's hand caught her wrist, his dark eyes snapping open. She smiled. "It's not time to get up yet. I'm just hungry," she said. He glanced quickly around the room, then his eyes closed and he relaxed, and released her arm.
She quickly devoured two plates of very rare qualk, and was into her third before she slowed down long enough to get some coffee. Then she gazed at the room around her. How many mornings had she spent here, sharing coffee, usually while curled contentedly around Sulu's body as he sat up in bed? And how many times had she been awakened here by honest, playful passion, or an equally honest "Would you mind leaving, I've got things to do"? Or her own "Sorry, Roy, I've got to go"? Goddess, I'm going to miss that more than anything, a love that was deep and caring and totally unpossessive. We never intruded on each other's lives, but he was always there, always. Was I? Did he ever need more than I gave? No. Honest, open, easy, there was too much joy for him to have needed more. Too much pure joy...
Stop it, Ruth! she scolded harshly. Don't dwell on it. He's gone, and you have a duty to this one. She got up, sighing, and began to pick up the samurai armor. She didn't like touching the now dry lacing, and she wasn't sure she put it back correctly, but she did the best she could. There were some blood stains on the rug, and she cleaned them as well as she was able, making a note to get back with something more efficient before maintenance did. Then she got another cup of coffee and sat, cross-legged, about five feet from the bed, staring at Sulu.
How can minds so different wear the same face? Sulu looked no crueler in sleep, no more paranoid or distrustful or contemptuous. The pale bronze held the same texture, the lips the same fullness, the same sensuality. The line of his jaw was just as strong, the planes of his face as youthful, as elegant. How could there be so much tension and fear and turmoil beneath that peaceful beauty?
And how could such savagery rest in those strong, sure, knowledgeable hands?
But the eyes, they tell all, don't they. Who said "windows to the soul"? Were those obsidian almonds open, you'd have no doubts, would you? So much to tell him, so much I take for granted. Like Ben, and sharing a bathroom. What else will I miss that he'll take as a trap or an attack? And what if the next one's in public? Sulu, I want to help. I can take the fear, the pain, I think. She shivered, her back twinging. But I have to change what you are, what you see. I have to slow those lightning reflexes, stop the mental dissection of everything you hear. There are no hidden meanings here, Sulu, no hints or clues in subtle nuances. There's nothing to hint about. For now, all I want is to stop you from reacting, no matter what you feel. You can work it out on me as long as you can hold it in till we're alone.
Oh god, what have I gotten myself into?
Sulu's eyes suddenly opened, staring directly into her own. There was no trace of sleep in them, and a smile was pulling at his lips. Without a word, he crooked a summoning finger at her. She sighed, and rose, setting her coffee cup on the desk as she went to the bed. His arms came around her, pulling her to him. "You don't have to be a maid, Ruth," he murmured, "though it was sweet of you. You're here for other things."
"Do you want something to eat?" Ruth asked, knowing it was inane but unable to think of anything else to say.
He chuckled. "All right, if you insist. Coffee." He stretched, and sat up as Ruth went to the replicator, already knowing better than to point out that coffee wasn't something to eat. She could feel his eyes watching her and wondered why it made her so uneasy. He pulled her to him again as she handed him a cup. They were silent for a minute.
"About last night," Ruth finally began.
"Can you heal anything?" Sulu interrupted.
"So far," Ruth replied, then took a deep breath. "I hope you understood about Ben."
"It would've been nice if you'd mentioned it before hand," he said. "But it's all right. I forgive you."
"Thanks," Ruth muttered.
"Can you control it or do you heal automatically?"
"Automatic. Sulu, there are things we need to..."
"Later, Ruth. You're not going to tell anyone about last night, are you?"
She sighed, and met his eyes. "It was a mistake, Sulu. Nothing more. I told you that."
"Yes," he said slowly, "yes, you did, didn't you?" He smiled. "Good, then. We'll try not to let that sort of mistake happen again." He kissed her. "I would've taken care of you if you hadn't healed. You know that, don't you?" he whispered.
She nodded, not liking the gleam in his eyes that belied the gentle tone of his voice, and decided to change the subject. "I arranged to be let off my normal duties for today..." she began. His fingers were trailing over her skin, and his lips nuzzled her ear and throat.
"That was good of you," he mumbled softly.
"...so I could concentrate on you..."
A deep chuckle. "Even better."
"...teaching you the basics of our..."
"You're better than basics, Ruth."
"...culture, Sulu you're not listening." His mouth covered hers, his arms pushing her to her back. Her heart was racing, her body more than willing, but she forced herself to sit back up. "1 said I was off normal duty, Sulu," she insisted. "This isn't a rec day and we've got work to do."
His eyes flashed coldly, and he pulled her roughly back down, "You've got work to do, I'll agree with that," he growled.
"Sulu..."
"I'd suggest you do it, Ruth." The tone was a quiet threat, but Ruth ignored it.
"You agreed to..." she began again.
"I don't want to hear it." Softer, more threatening, but she went on.
"We've only got one month..."
"Woman, you're not listening."
Idiot, stop, shut up, submit, now! Ruth's mind screamed at her. She swallowed, forcing herself to stay calm. "If I let you make love to me again, will you..." The sharp sting of the back of Sulu's hand cut off her words, His eyes were flames of ice, and he was smiling.
"If you let me, Ruth?" he asked with joyous savagery. "How sweet of you, how incredibly thoughtful, to let me." He laughed, and Ruth was frozen with panicked terror. The smile on his face vanished with sudden, raging anger. "You'll learn, Antari," he said, and she gasped and quickly rolled off the bed and to her feet.
He was up and after her a split second later and she screamed "Ben!" and tried to avoid his grasp. He had grabbed her wrists, and she winced, inhaling sharply, closing her eyes. But nothing happened. She looked up at him. His face was tight, his eyes closed, and he was breathing deeply. The grip on her wrists didn't lessen, and his voice was hoarse. "Wrong place," he mumbled. "Wrong reaction." Then he took an almost shuddering breath, and relaxed, letting her go. His eyes stayed closed as she hurriedly dressed, and left the room.
Ruth was in the turbolift before the flight reaction subsided enough to let her think. Calm down, calm down! she screamed at herself. He stopped, didn't he? He's trying! You can't run after every little scare. Run. Where am I - I have to report to Spock.
She took several deep breaths and tried to order her thoughts. She couldn't report to the Vulcan First Officer while hysterical; he would find her emotions irrelevant anyway. She was supposed to know what she had gotten herself into.
All right? she asked herself.
Close enough, she replied and said aloud, "Deck Two."
Spock was in his office, and from his calm appraisal of her as she entered she realized that he had expected her. "Since you requested that Dr. M'Benga not report to the Captain, he informed me instead," he began without preliminary. "He seemed deeply concerned for your safety." The sudden memory must've shown on her face, for Spock went on quickly. "You were screaming, I believe. What happened?"
She knew she was flushing, but was grateful for the question. She hadn't known where to start. "He needed to release tension and fear, and he needed violence, physical violence to do it," she replied. "It was my fault, I forgot to tell him about sharing the head. In his universe, Ben coming in like that would've been an assassination."
"Dr. M'Benga told me of the attack," Spock said. "And that Mr. Sulu stopped himself with only a few words from you."
"Yes," she conceded. "I didn't use any force."
"That is encouraging, I would think Miss Valley."
"Except for beating me bloody, sure," Ruth mumbled.
"I had thought you prepared for that eventuality."
"So had I."
"You find this duty more trying than you expected?" he questioned.
Ruth took a deep breath before answering. Spock would expect honesty. "I'm afraid of him, Mr. Spock," she said. "I know my emotions aren't important here, but I can't do my job if I'm too scared to be in the same room with him. This morning he was very solicitous of me, but it was an act. Part of a game. I'll give you devoted master and you give me adoring slave. Or else. It was the 'or else' that was scaring me."
"Did you explain to him that his assumptions were in error?" Spock asked.
"I tried. He wasn't interested. He wanted to know about my empathy, I think because he wanted to know how much - disfigurement - I could cure, so he wouldn't get in trouble for what he was planning."
"Miss Valley, you are second-guessing. I want facts, not speculation."
"Facts?" Ruth repeated, a little annoyed with Spock's callousness. "Okay, I'll give you facts. He delighted in hearing me scream. He wanted me only to shut up, lay down and spread. He treated me like --" she stopped with sudden realization. "Like property. Of course. 'Antari'. His concept of a woman, especially an alien woman is that of property!"
Spock had been gazing at her with disapproval, but it disappeared to be replaced with acknowledgement. "Of course," he murmured. "And we have not yet explained to him that women and men are equal here. I believe I see the problem."
"Yes," Ruth sighed. "How stupid! I move in with him, so naturally..."
"He assumes you were given to him, as a pacifier," Spock finished. He considered silently for a moment. "We have made a minor, but fundamental tactical error."
"How do we correct it?" Ruth asked.
"He must be told," Spock replied. "And perhaps it would be best if you returned to your own quarters. It would reinforce the idea that you do not belong to him." He paused. "And since Dr. M'Benga is wary of him, but not convinced of his irredeemable wickedness, he can provide adequate surveillance. However, you should impress on Mr. Sulu that you are available to him should he have questions."
"Available," Ruth repeated, and avoided Spock's sharp glance as she rose. She sighed, wishing she hadn't sounded so cynical. Defense mechanism, she thought. You have logic, Spock, and Sulu gets to hide behind violence. And I've got to stay open and honest and vulnerable. She swallowed and said with professional brusqueness, "I'll explain to Sulu, Mr. Spock."
"Unless, Miss Valley, you believe you cannot bear up under the pressure. I can continue alone if you feel unsuited to the task." Spock's voice was soft and understanding, his eyes searching hers, and she realized just how unimportant her feelings were. Sulu's acculturation was the important thing here, and that was all. This was for his sake, or for nothing. And if nothing, they might as well arrange for his execution; it would be quicker and less painful. She sighed, genuinely relenting this time.
"No, sir, I'll handle it." She paused. "Thank you."
He nodded, and she left his office.
Sulu waited until he heard the double hiss of the door opening and closing. Then he turned, blindly grabbing at anything solid. His hands touched something, and with a raging snarl and savage ferocity he flung the object across the cabin. He heard the shattering as it hit the opposite bulkhead, and only then did his eyes open. The Buddha statue was in a million scattered pieces, and he clenched his fists and started pacing.
Damn it, gods damn it, wrong, always wrong!
The stupid slut deserves it!
Except she's not stupid. Think, man, or you'll hang!
But she's mine, she was given to me!
Yes, but it's not the same here. You can't expect her to react like Rand or Chapel or Tamura. She's not a brainless cunt.
What is she?
You'd best find out if you want to stay alive.
Their way, their rules and I don't know them.
Find out, then you can see how much leeway you've got.
Damn it, she shouldn't tempt it like that!
Maybe she didn't know.
Wrong universe, wrong assumptions, fool! Kirk wants to dig your grave and you're handing him a shovel. Live or die, it's your choice.
No choice.
Where the hell do I start?
‘You have a computer terminal, feel free to use it for any information you need.'
He stopped his pacing and sat down at the desk. He glanced up automatically and grimaced wryly. No screens, remember? "Computer," he said.
"Working."
What the...? A female voice, and no request for security clearance? He shook the strangeness off. "Information on Federation cultural attitudes and morés," he ordered. There were a few seconds of tonal noise, then the computer said, "Specify Federation race on which information is requested."
"Terran, of course," he replied dryly. More noise, then:
"Terran culture within United Federation of Planets - reference History; UFP - Sol-Jupiter System - United Nations of Earth: Language; Anglo-Terran - dialects - colonial derivations - modern usage: Religion; United Nations of Earth - variants including Buddhist, Christian, Hinduism..."
"Enough!" Sulu snapped out. Too little or too much, and I'm back to the original question. Where do I start? What made them different than us? "History," he told the computer.
Halfway through the first page of reading he realized he'd have to go back a few hundred years. His starting point of approximately 2125 Terran standard years had too much that was too different for him to gain any understanding. He had to go back nearly 2000 Standard Years to see where the divergence had begun to take place. It was so long ago that he didn't see how he could hope to comprehend it all, even if he was given a lifetime to try. He chuckled ironically. That's exactly what you've been given, he thought sardonically, however long it may turn out to be.
In only a few minutes he became totally enthralled, and amazed that Terra had survived to reach the stars. It was easy to see why they had only reached the stars instead of conquering them. This Terra was a world his Terra would have found ripe for plundering.
The Empire had lasted only 600 years. It was a concept that seemed impossible. The Empire conquered all of Earth, all of the Sol System, and was well on its way to conquering the galaxy: Vulcan, Andor, Tellar, Centauri, Indi, Antares, Klingon, Gorn, Kestral, Rigel, Vega - they were at war with Romulus now, and it was only a matter of time... What happened here? How had a band of barbarians been able to destroy the greatest organization the world had ever seen?
And if he found out, was there use in it?