Changeling

       He was up to Standard Year 416 when the door opened. Adrenalin flashed through him and he was half out of his seat, prepared for attack or defense, before he looked up.
       Ruth.
       He exhaled, relaxing. He let his gaze burn into her for a minute, then growled, "Doesn't anyone ever knock here?"
       "I'm not used to knocking on Sulu's door," she said softly. The wistful look crossed her face again. "I'm sorry. There are a lot of things I have to unlearn too." He ignored her and went back to his reading. He was aware of her movement, first to stare at the shattered statue, then a hesitant crossing to stand behind him.
       "History?" she said at last. He grunted an affirmative. "The fifth century? Things were different so long ago?" He gave her a condescending look and went on reading. "I'm glad you've found somewhere to start." She was silent for several minutes, then her hand reached for the computer controls. "Do you mind if I show you something? It won't take long, and it might - explain..." He was staring at her, and she paled, but swiftly programmed her request. On the screen in quick succession came laws, codes, edicts, decrees from every race in the Federation, all pertaining to one thing: Equality of race, color, creed and gender. Finally something called The Rights of Sentient Beings came on, reaffirming all these separate codes, expanding the scope - equality was the right of every sentient being - for the entire United Federation of Planets.
       Right? You only hold rights you can keep by force. Equality? I'm equal to a Klingon?
       Or a woman.
       That's it, isn't it? I'm supposed to treat you like the equal these laws say you are - even in bed. Sure. Right. And now I see why your Empire fell. You can't survive if you imagine everyone your equal. What gross stupidity! Ineffective, inefficient, weak - of course you think you can 'let me' take you. You think you're my equal. Your laws say you are...
       And I have to live by your laws. Damn it! How the hell can I? There's no way I can survive, not and stay a man. I'm not a sheep, or brother to a Klingon eunuch. And I don't want the right to existence given to me! That's a child's necessity, and I stopped being a boy years ago. Damn it, I've earned the right to survive on my own for over ten years, and not fucking easy ones! I don't need anyone's protection or grace or charity!
       "Sulu?" Ruth's hesitant voice broke into his thoughts. He glanced up at her, knowing he wasn't concealing the helpless, futile rage and frustration, and she backed a step. "I wanted to - do you understand? It was my fault, I didn't think how you must be viewing me. But still - " She took a deep breath. "I'm not yours, or anyone's. I belong to myself. I'm here because I want to help, not because I want something in exchange for my services. I think I made a mistake by moving in. It gave you the wrong idea. I just wanted to be here if you needed - someone to talk..." Her voice trailed off under his relentless gaze.
       "Right," he said tersely. "You think equal. I think property. I'm wrong. Of course. But you tell me how to stop it!" He was angry, knew he was giving too much away, but he wasn't caring enough to stop. And the answering fear in Ruth's eyes only made him more careless. "I'll act like I have to, I don't care to die, but woman, to me, you're property and I can't change it overnight."
       "I know," she said softly, a counter to his harsh fury. "I know it's hard to learn a whole new set of cultural rules. I had to when I came to Terra. I want to help you, but I don't know how. I don't know what you'll accept, or how you'll react to what I consider help. And Sulu, even if this doesn't work, you're not going to die. I know, you don't accept that either, but it's the truth." She sighed helplessly. "Please believe me."
       Why do you have to be so damn sincere? He thought furiously. Why couldn't you want something from me? "There's only one way you can help, Antari, and your rules tell me it's wrong."
       "It isn't, not when you want it, and I want it," she said, almost desperately.
       "And you want it," he snapped.
       "What's wrong with that?" she pleaded. "Isn't it better when the woman is willing?"
       "Not out of pity!" He got up, pushing past her. "I don't want your compassion, slut!"
       "What else can I give you!" she wailed miserably.
       "Not whining, that's for damn sure!"
       She took a deep breath, and exhaled slowly. "All right. I'll leave you alone. I'm moving back to my own quarters; they're on Deck Four. You can call, or come up if you want. I'm sorry it's so difficult. And I'll remember to knock from now on."
       He watched her gather her things. He watched the pain in her eyes, the grief, the mourning for what he'd never be. And impotent, powerless, weaponless and defenseless, knowing there wasn't anything he could do, he watched her leave.

       Ruth sat on her bed with her arms wrapped around her legs and her chin resting on her knees. She was attempting for the god only knew how manyeth time in twenty four hours not to cry. She hurt and could only think we've got to learn to talk to each other, somehow we've got to learn to talk to each other. Jock was railing at her gleefully and she didn't care to hear him.
       "Get tired of the whips so soon, Ruth? Wasn't it enough? Or was it too much? Come on, Valley, give me details! Roy was always good, what about Mr. Pure Evil? Live up to your expectations? How'd it feel, being made by all those different choices?"
       "Shut up, Thompson!" Ruth shrieked. "Just shut up, I don't want to hear it!"
       "What do you want to hear? That I'm sorry your brave and noble experiment failed? You think I got any rest last night, knowing what you were doing?"
       "What I was doing wasn't important! I made the mistakes that brought me back here, not Sulu. You want details? Yes, he hurt me, but it was to stay sane. Can you understand that kind of pain? He's a frightened man, Thompson, and I'm frightened, frightened that I'll never be able to communicate with him."
       "And you have to?"
       "Yes!"
       "Why? Why can't you let somebody with psychiatric training be the one to risk their neck?"
       Ruth felt herself losing the battle against the tears. "Because he's Sulu!" she cried. "Yes, my pretty little theory! Damnit why can't you accept that it's what I have to do! I don't have to answer to you, Jock, you're not my father!"
       "Ruth, I care!"
       "I know! Just let me be what I am, or don't you care that much?" She rose from her bed and raced out of the room, not waiting for Jock's answer. She had no place to go, but she walked just the same. A few hours with Roy, that's what she needed. But he wasn't here, and no one else would understand, and she found herself a Jeffries tube and admitted defeat.

       Captain Kirk finished with the day's first log entry before he spoke to his First Officer. When he did it was only one curt word. "Report."
       Spock was aware of having the full attention of the Bridge crew and Dr. McCoy when he replied. "Mr. Sulu is making extensive use of the library computer to study Federation history."
       "How's Ruth?" McCoy asked brusquely.
       "We consulted this morning. She is in good health, and reported satisfactory progress. We also concluded that her residing in his rooms was an error of judgment - "
       "Residing in his rooms!" McCoy repeated loudly. "Whose idea was that?"
       "Mine. It was a mistake, however, and has been rectified."
       "Just why was she 'residing' in his rooms in the first place?" Kirk demanded. "Spock you know I don't approve of that kind of relationship between them, it's far too dangerous."
       "I believe your fears to be unfounded, Captain," Spock replied levelly. His unvoiced thought was in agreement with Kirk. Dangerous, yes, but necessary if we are to help our young friend. "But in any case, as I have stated, such concern is now academic."
       Kirk stared at him for several seconds, then said, in a low but authoritative voice, "You just better know what you're doing, mister."
       Spock kept the sigh inside himself. "Yes, sir," he said, and stepped up to his station.

       Kirk watched him for a few seconds before giving his attention to the Helm. He had a very uneasy feeling that his Science Officer was the only one involved in this who knew exactly what he was doing. It was one that he didn't like at all.

       Sulu found himself staring at the painted willow-galaxies. His mind had no release, and so had taken him inside the discipline of the fine pen strokes. How long it had been, he didn't know, but the desolation that always came with such things was finally pushed back to its space within the compartments of his thoughts. Hunger unfulfilled, a burning emptiness, hope blown away with the utter despair of disappointment; all was relegated to past and memory.
       

( He strode through Engineering, a routine security check, and as he came up on the tool crib, the figure doing careful inventory glanced up. And gasped, a sound not of fear so much as shame. Diane, of course. He didn't look at her, didn't acknowledge her, but the hurt came, fast, bitter, famished:
       'Not till I call, my angel,' he'd said. Her eyes were wide, still full of being, and she'd nodded, afraid to beg for any more. She'd left, and he'd waited, taking no notice of her when he happened to come across her. He watched the being drain from her, and the days passed into weeks. She never came. )

       Jock was writing furiously on the reports Scotty wanted, only half his mind on the statistics. He was still fuming over Ruth Valley's irrepressible evangelism. She was going to get herself killed. And why is that a surprise? Don't all missionaries long to be martyred? Damn her!
       When the door chime sounded he called, "Come," irritably, and when the door opened but no one spoke, he looked up with a glare. "Well?" he snapped.
       The answer was polite, but the man who spoke stared disdainfully down at the engineer, dark eyes oddly amused and angry at the same time. "I was looking for Ensign Valley's quarters."
       Sulu. Jock returned the stare, not quite believing the change from the companionable soul that once inhabited that body. It made him all the more bitter, and he went back to work, growling, "You found 'em."
       "I see," Sulu said, and Jock ignored the icy near-threat. After a few seconds it became impossible to ignore the stare that was boring into his back. He took a deep breath and said through clenched teeth, "I don't know where she went, but if you want to wait..."
       "Thank you." The same cold anger/amusement, and Jock bit down on his tongue and tried to concentrate on his work.

       Sulu smiled to himself, in spite of his annoyance at finding a man in Ruth's rooms, and one who obviously felt he belonged there. This one wasn't intimidated by him, or at least he fought it. Maybe they aren't all sheep after all. Still, what the hell was he doing here? He decided not to ask, to try to act like he was supposed to. He glanced around the room. There were more plants here than in his quarters. What could that tell him about Ruth? A guitar. She's geisha as well then. And a beautifully woven - my god, it moves! He watched as the tapestry hanging over the beds - beds? - shifted from light if racing shades of greens and golds to darker heavier billows of greys and deep purple. He smiled, enthralled, and the man seated at the desk said, almost but not quite to himself, "So how's the torture games?"
       Ravenous delight blazed in Sulu's thoughts. He's baiting me, how delicious!
        I can't take it, damn it. Not yet, not here. Oh, but play it, tug at the line. In a civilized, properly Federation fashion. He didn't look away from the tapestry, and he made his answer as casual as the question. "I have had it better."
       "He belongs in a cage," was the muttered, mock-incredulous reply, and Sulu noted that the man did not look up, or even address the statement directly to him. He was going to relish this game.
       "Caged animals get fed," he murmured, savoring the distaste that sprang into the man's figure.
       "The poor thing's hungry?" Cynical, acid, false sympathy, and Sulu fought the urge to pounce on it. Stalk, there's no place for a hawk's dive here.
       "You offering?" he asked, and his voice was rich with taunting entreaty.
       The man's head jerked up, the intense blue eyes blazing, looking at him for the first time since he'd spoken. "There's nothing for you here," he stated harshly.
       So afraid of me! Did you almost answer my call? Sulu's mind was thrilling to the hunt, and a sharp voice reminded - Federation. Ease up, back off, you can't do too much too soon. Not here. It's all right though. It's there, waiting. I can take it whenever I want. Well, well, an advantage. Here, I've got all the time I need. He thought of Ruth, and smiled at the man. "No," he agreed slowly. "Not now."
       "Not now," the man answered emphatically, "not ever! Why don't you go away and leave us alone? There's plenty of places for your kind; hospitals, madhouses, the Klingon Empire. Anywhere but on this ship, in Sulu's quarters!" He got up, his body turning around, facing him. "I don't know who or what the hell you think you are, but on this ship you don't have any power - except to beat up frightened women who incidentally are trying to help you survive, god knows why! So just go on back and leave her and me and all of us alone!"
       "Jock!" Ruth's voice shouted and Sulu watched with malevolent hunger as the man twisted around to face the door he hadn't realized had opened.
       "You've got the right to say anything you damn well please to me," Ruth informed him furiously as she strode into the room to stand beside Sulu. "To me, but you don't even know him. How dare you, Thompson, how dare you!" Her eyes were wide, wild, the fear in them warning the man with frantic desperation.
       Sulu's smile was soft and affectionate, but neither Ruth or Thompson saw it. Protectress, shield, defending me, and this reckless man, from his words. You're afraid for both of us, aren't you, my love? But tell me, how did he get rights when I have none?
       "I'm doing it for you!" Thompson shouted back at Ruth.
       "I don't need your help!" Ruth snapped. "I told him he could come to me whenever he wanted and you just better get used to it."
       "To hell with it then," Thompson snarled and slammed his hand on the desk, whisking his statboard off it, turning and storming out of the room. When he was gone, Ruth sighed, a shuddering sound of relief, then turned and smiled up at him.
       "I'm sorry about Jock," she said. "What did you want?"
       "What is this, Ruth?" Sulu asked, not at all one of the things he had come for. Her eyes became uncertain.
       "What is what?"
       "Your quarters, right?"
       "Yes..."
       "I take it his, too."
       "Yes. We're roommates."
       "Oh," Sulu said, his voice deadly calm. "Roommates. I see." Panic flew into the violet eyes, and Ruth paled, swallowing. Sulu kept the smile from his lips though it gleamed in his eyes, and she moved to the computer terminal.
       "It's not like that," she said quickly. "I was assigned, it's random, I didn't have any say or choice, see?" Her fingers had been flying over the controls and the screen displayed a listing of regulations regarding starship crew assignment. "We're roommates, nothing more."
       "All right, I see. My mistake." He shrugged ruefully again. "Sorry."
       She sighed and reached out to touch his arm. "Not knowing something - just let me help, okay?"
       "Come back to my quarters with me, I've got questions."

       "Article 55:
       "With a view to creating conditions of stability and well-being which are necessary for peaceful relations among planetary social systems based on respect for the principles of equal rights and self-determination of all intelligent life forms, the United Federation of Planets shall promote..."
       Sulu irritably switched off the viewer. He was bored to tears with studying the Articles of Federation, bored with Federation history, bored with Federation culture, bored with Federation life. Two days of trying to absorb this humanistic trash had worn his already frayed nerves raw. He was, as Ruth would say, having 'trouble adjusting'. Trouble, hell. This is impossible. No system can work with voluntary adherence to the thousands of rules necessary to govern this "free" society. Which was, of course, where Fleet came in. But Fleet, as far as he could tell, never did a damn thing, except exploration and shuttle runs. 'Because the Federation works, we don't often have to be a police force,' Ruth said. Such calm, wise peoples, all working together for common goals, common good... Sulu thought he might be sick.
       He got up from his desk, resisting the urge to smash something. You have to control your temper, you have to cooperate. He glanced longingly at the weapons case, then strode out of his quarters. If he sat reading much longer, he was sure to go insane.
       Once out the door, he glanced automatically to his right, but of course no one was there. The guard - Security, not body, he reminded himself ruefully - had been reassigned. It was his own fault, as usual. A casual comment to the man, that he didn't want to be disturbed, and Ruth picked up on it. She'd told Spock. It was decided that he'd been thinking Imperially, which of course he had, and to have Security guard be synonymous with bodyguard was bad for his acculturation. After all, here he didn't need protection from the rest of the crew. How they'd managed to convince Kirk that the crew didn't need protection from him he couldn't imagine.
       He'd found one similarity - this Captain Kirk was as paranoid as his. He'd been given an opportunity to test his knowledge and skill as a helmsman, necessary for his acculturation. But Kirk had insisted he be flanked by Security every second he was in the Auxiliary Bridge, and it got worse when Spock suggested he be given a shot at real duty. Kirk consented to one hour. With enough phasers on that Bridge to melt dylithium. He'd performed his duties efficiently, impassively, paying no attention to Chekov's noticeable edging away from him, Scott's protective stand over Engineering, McCoy's grim scrutiny or Kirk's determined straight-ahead stare. The cat-creature at Communications startled him - Lieutenant M'ress, Ruth had said - and though he knew nothing about her, he didn't think the deep rumbling from her throat was affection. Ruth and Spock kept exchanging rueful glances, Ruth openly upset at this treatment, Spock quietly so. He ignored that as well. The hour passed too quickly. He was just beginning to feel right when McCoy said gruffly, "Hour's up, Jim."
       "That's it, mister," Scott grumbled, obviously relieved, and Ruth sighed deeply as he got up from the Helm. He turned, and Kirk looked so smug he couldn't keep the contempt inside.
       "See, Captain," he said blithely, "I haven't killed anyone yet."
       Ruth hissed his name as Kirk's face hardened.
       "Get off this Bridge, mister," Kirk growled, and he began a salute, stopped it, then shrugged, smiling, his most charming. There was a tangible air of relief as the turbolift closed behind him. Relief for them, he thought. The whole hour only made things worse for me.
       Damn them, he growled as he decided to try his chances in the rec room. They have so much to offer each other, but you, you're an outsider, and always will be. Karma, neh? He laughed grimly. It was up to him to make his own place.
       The easy hum of voices stopped as he stepped into the large room, a ripple of silence that spread out from the door through the crowd of people. He bit down on his helpless anger, turning it back to sarcasm. Sorry, I left the sulfur and brimstone at home. He walked to a vacant table, well aware of the eyes that followed him. Don't need protection from them, Spock? Would you say that if you could feel this hostility?
       Sulu's eyes closed momentarily. Every instinct in him was screaming a warning - watch, listen, something's up, fool, guard yourself! The smell of fear and dread was sweet and powerful, threatening but taunting. He had no control here, no power to twist the fear for his own use. His mind countered the instinct - nothing to fear, Federation, equality, rights. And countered yet again - that's the trap, idiot, are you so stupid as to believe it? If you let it destroy you, you deserve it!
       He realized his fists were clenched, and consciously relaxed them. Sure, give it away while you're at it, he spat at himself. He glanced up again, nonchalantly. Dr. M'Benga met his gaze for a few seconds, not friendly, but not frightened either, surprisingly enough. Then M'Benga's attention shifted as the woman he was with nervously touched his arm. Uhura. She panicked every time she saw him. He hadn't understood until Ruth's explanation. He'd been a good boy, studying cultural tapes, with Ruth making observations over his shoulder. She kept saying things like "of course where you come from", "not like the Empire", "in your culture", "under Imperial standards" and it grated more and more until the tension within him exploded into action. He was up out of his chair, his arm across her throat, slamming her against the bulkhead in one furious move. "How the hell do you know so much about me when I know nothing about you!" he'd shouted at her. The fear in her eyes was sating and she spoke quickly, desperately. "We've been there!" He let her go with the same fury that had pinned her, remembering: re-transfer, previous incident. It was time he learned what they all knew.
       "When?" he demanded.
       She'd told him about a strange set of circumstances where Kirk, McCoy, Scott and Uhura had spent nearly two hours in what they assumed was his Empire. Chekov had tried an assassination: so, apparently, had he. And Uhura had, Ruth claimed, played a very dangerous cat and mouse game with him.
       Only none of what she said had ever happened on his Enterprise.
       She seemed more than surprised, and they had begun an exchange of information. Everything she knew about him and his universe was correct, except for the incident she described. It puzzled Sulu, but her hesitant suggestion that perhaps it hadn't happened yet , that time flowed differently in his universe, made as much sense as anything else. And it certainly made Uhura's reactions understandable. He chuckled at that. It would've been fun...
       His attention was caught by the sight of Yeoman Rand as she brushed hastily past him. He smiled his most charmingly at her and murmured, "Good morning, Janice," silkily. She stopped and nodded in answer as the color rose in her face. "Join me?" he asked.
       "I..." The blush deepened. "Where's Ruth?"
       "My watchdog's taken the day off."
       Her answering look was a mixture of amusement, consternation, and embarrassment, all valiantly trying to be covered with stern rebuke. "Now you don't mean that," she chided.
       "No," he agreed simply. "Sit."
       "Well I..." she glanced around her. "I'm on duty in a few minutes, but I suppose, for a little while..." her voice trailed off and Sulu could see the memories of who he wasn't flashing in her bright, beautiful blue eyes. And with them came the fear of who he was. "No, I really don't have the..." she began again.
       "It might interest you to know that where I'm from, you and I - that is she and I," he corrected smoothly, and paused a fraction of a second, just enough to intrigue. "Live together," he finished, and smiled, less openly charming, more sensual. "A mutually satisfying arrangement."
       She took a sharp breath as the blush returned, then she smiled and slowly sat down. "What's she like?" she asked, much too casually.
       He kept the triumph inside and leaned toward her. "Every bit as lovely as you are, Janice," he murmured, and her lips parted - and Uhura's voice said, "We have duty, Janice," and both he and Rand looked up.
       Uhura avoided his eyes as her hand clamped firmly on Janice's arm. "Come on," she said. Janice looked at the fear in the dark eyes, then glanced back at him, then rose hurriedly.
       "Sorry, Mr. Sulu," she said.
       As he watched her leave with Uhura, new speculation rose in him. Then he noticed that the room had again fallen silent. Everyone had watched Uhura's rescue of poor Janice. Everyone was quite pleased with the outcome, and he could feel their smug relief. The thought that Uhura's action had stopped a lynch mob from forming came with a rush of panicked warning. Instinct again, pounding inside him. The hostility came at him, and he ached to respond - a little fear is very dangerous. People had to fear too much to act, or not at all and so have no reason to act. This... this was perilous, and he was helpless. It had been a grave mistake to come here. The feel of treachery was all around him. He had no sanctuary, no place secure or safe. He was a naked target.
       In the righteous Federation? he sneered to himself.
       Damnit, I can feel it! came the immediate rebuff.
       There's no way to bluff out of this, you don't know the culture or the people. Cautious retreat or the trap springs shut. Get out. Now. While you can.
       His head shouted contradiction at all he felt, but instinct was too strong. He rose, carefully, slowly, and headed toward the door, loathe to put his back to the room...
       Why? Nothing's going to -
       The hell it isn't!
       ... and almost bumped into Christine Chapel.
       The nurse's gasp wasn't quite suppressed and she took a step back. Sulu simply took a deep breath, his head suddenly realizing where there would be some release, if not safety. "Excuse me, ma'am," he said. Chapel looked quite surprised and a little pleased. He wondered why, but stored it for later consideration. "Can you tell me where Ensign Valley is?"
       "Have you tried her quarters?" Chapel replied.
       Of course, fool, think! he chided silently. "No, I haven't," he said, then added automatically, "Thank you ma'am." Again the surprise, but the woman nodded and he felt her eyes following him as he left the room.
       He had forced the tension to a much more manageable level by the time the turbolift reached Deck Four. He would spend the day with Ruth, no tapes, no tests, just the two of them. When she complains that we haven't got time, I'll smile and promise to be good tomorrow. Tomorrow. There's a certainty of tomorrow here. That's what she says.
       When he reached her door he knew it wouldn't be locked and he didn't bother to knock. He smiled avidly as he stepped into the room, anticipating her annoyance at his rudeness, as she had annoyed him so many times...
       The sight that met his eyes consumed his control in a blinding rush of red fury. Blood pounded through him, rage and betrayal devouring all his senses. Ruth lay amid tangled bedsheets, gloriously, beautifully naked, her hair a wild mane of gold - with Thompson on top of her.
       Their eyes turned to him, startled irritation changing to pure terror and he moved without thinking, pulling Thompson out of the bed by the back of his neck, smashing him against the grill that separated sleeping from living room. It collapsed, Thompson stumbling through it, and Sulu continued forward, his eyes deadly ebony fire.
       "Oh god, Sulu!" Ruth screamed and she was at his side, moving in front of him, wild, pleading, throwing her body at him like a shield.
       He stopped so suddenly that Ruth fell to her knees. Thompson had scrambled up and away from him, panic-stricken, staring up at him. Sulu's voice was a thick, hoarse growl as he spoke to the terrified, white face.
       "Touch my woman again and I'll break your neck."
       Then he grabbed Ruth's hair, jerking her aside, and strode furiously out of the wreckage, and out of the room.

       "Sulu," Ruth whispered as she dragged herself up off her knees. It had been a plea and she was trembling and cold. "Sulu," she repeated as tears blurred her vision. She shook them away and turned to Jock. He moaned and covered his face with shaking hands. There was blood in his hair and deep cuts on his chest and shoulders. She healed them quickly, then helped him to the bed. "Just stay here," she ordered him in a strained voice she scarcely recognized. "Don't do anything until I get back."
       She dressed quickly while Jock stared at her in shocked and still frightened silence.
       Sulu was in his quarters, his hands resting on the top of the weapons display case, fingers spread, but his knuckles were white, and the pressure he exerted made his arms shake. Ruth moved quickly, quietly to his side.
       "Sulu," she began softly. His eyes snapped to her, coldly malevolent, but his voice was dripping politeness.
       "Yes, Ruth?"
       "I want to explain..."
       "What is there to explain, Ensign?" he broke in sweetly.
       She closed her eyes. "Sulu, please."
       "You were just fucking, Ruth, like the whore you are. Oh, forgive me," he interrupted himself, honeyed acid, "like the whore you are to anyone but me."
       Ruth felt herself flushing, anger growing in her to camouflage the hurt.
       "It's quite all right," he went on. "Different rules for different people. You don't have to convince him of the perfection of your great Federation, its rights, its equality, its freedom. With him you can be a common slut." His voice had lost its sweetness, icy rage replacing the mockery. It was all Ruth's temper needed.
       "Just who the hell do you think you are?" she hissed at him, incredulous fury. "You don't own me, you never will! What gives you the right to judge me, what makes you think you can tell me what to do? I'll sleep with who I like and it's none of your damn business! Yes, there are different rules for Jock, I don't have to use my body to placate his ego, to stem his petulant fits of temper, to bribe him into acting like a responsible adult!"
       "None of that makes you any less of a whore does it?" he snapped.
       "And you want to be whore-master, is that it?" she snapped back.
       The change was so abrupt it momentarily left Ruth stunned. Sulu smiled, still cold, but it seemed the rage had drained out of him. He calmly walked to the door, gesturing toward it. "If you'll excuse me, Miss Valley," he said coolly.
       She hesitated, suddenly uncertain, and he cocked his head, but otherwise waited quite patiently. Her anger was dissipating, the fear returning to take its place, but her pride kept her from trying to bridge the gulf that had opened between them. She walked toward the door.
       And into a vicious, vehement, savage backhand that knocked her to the deck.
       She swallowed the cry, blinking back stinging tears of pain. When she looked up at him, he was standing between her and the door, his eyes taunting, his smile a venomous dare. Come and get me, echoed sharply, gleefully in her mind, and she shuddered, suddenly afraid that to move was to die, yet to stay would only bring her death slowly and much more painfully. Her eyes stayed locked on his for a long time, and she finally forced the terror down. Better to die quickly. She took a deep breath, pushing herself to her feet, and started toward him. His gaze never wavered and her heart was pounding furiously by the time she reached him. She was almost ready to freeze when he suddenly stepped aside, and she was out in the corridor, the door closing behind her.

       Janice Rand gasped, startled, when she saw Sulu sitting on her bed. But he stood, a smile coming slowly over his features, and her exclamation turned into an answering smile.
       "Your door wasn't locked," he said, and the sensuality of the tone made her shiver. "I decided to wait. Our earlier conversation was interrupted." He approached her, his movements sensual, silky grace, more than beckoning. She swallowed uneasily, then forced down the indefinable feeling of danger that was surrounding her. He was being seductive, and she was attracted. He knew it. Why shouldn't he act on it?
       "I'm still on duty," she explained, then added "unfortunately." His gaze had been traveling slowly, appraisingly over her, but now his eyes flashed up at hers as he laughed, an arrogant, dismissing sound that made the danger more palpable.
       "I know," he murmured, and his eyes caught hers. The fire sent a rush of both fear and excitement through her, and she longed to give in. Duty, a stern voice reminded, but it melted away with Sulu's words. "You asked me a question," he said softly, moving closer to her. "About Janice. She always had the good sense to know exactly what I wanted. It was the reason she stayed alive."
       Her heart was pounding furiously, and she closed her eyes, shuddering, not sure if it was fear or desire. The warning in his words was clear, but how could she be in danger? He wanted her, overpoweringly, all she had to do was submit. His fingers touched her, caressing her jaw, but there was tension in them, a force threatening to be suddenly, violently released. She ignored the slowly building terror and breathed his name.

       The tension snapped, all of Sulu's agonizingly careful control drowning in the flood of savage need. He had held back, needing to dive, to pounce, and had made himself stalk instead. But it was too much, the ferocity searing, seething inside him, and the hawk screamed triumph. He grasped the woman's jaw, pulling her to a harsh kiss, his other arm coming around, pinning her to him. The fear she'd been trying so hard to deny burst from her and the hawk screamed again. He devoured her mouth hungrily, reveling in her struggles, letting his strength hurt her with joyous brutality. When he broke the kiss, he let her break free, smiling, anticipating the pleasure of re-capturing her.

       Janice stumbled away from Sulu, desperately catching her breath. He'd let her go, she knew that, and he was smiling. He's playing with me, she realized, and it frightened her.
       "Get out of here!" she shrieked at him.
       The smile vanished, the face hardening, the eyes going coldly angry, and the situation was suddenly, frighteningly familiar. Through panicked memory, she recalled she'd come to her quarters to get a forgotten report for the captain, and that he had his intercom set to receive from her rooms. She lunged frantically at the com, hitting the switch, and screamed "Captain!"
       Sulu's hand slashed down and Janice ducked frantically, but it had been the com he had aimed for. She screamed and he spun to grab her by the shoulders. Her eyes closed, she was too scared to look at him or to even struggle. A moment later her eyes flew open as he let her go. He stood, hands at his sides, staring at her. She couldn't meet the expression in those eyes and turned quickly away, just as the door slid open.

       Kirk raced to his yeoman's quarters, pausing only to call Security. To his mind there was only one thing that could've made her scream like that - and he remembered too well the condition of Sulu's woman in the Empire. You had a duty to your crew and you let him loose! he berated himself angrily. If he's hurt Janice...
       He burst into the room, ready for a flying tackle - and stopped, cold. Janice stared at the monster, wary, uncertain.
       But Sulu was simply standing, fists clenched, dead still.
       "Yeoman, are you..." Kirk began, and Sulu's eyes snapped to his, fiery, naked, helpless, self-loathing.
       "You make the rules, but you don't obey them," he hissed furiously. "How the hell am I supposed to!"
       Janice burst into tears as the Security team came into the room.
       "Hypocrites!" Sulu went on savagely. "Lying, self-righteous, so fucking holy hypocrites! At least in my world we know what we are!" There was hatred burning in his black eyes, hatred and scorn and despair, and Kirk turned away.
       "To the Brig," he told the guards.

       Kirk ordered Spock to his office, and wasn't surprised when he arrived accompanied by Ensign Valley. The girl looked upset, nervously bright-eyed and anxious. Kirk studied her closely, and waited. She blushed and said contritely, "Whatever he's done, sir, it's my fault."
       "Your Mr. Sulu attacked Yeoman Rand," Kirk announced to both of them. "Personally I think a reasonable man should answer for his own actions."
       "Of course, Captain," Spock replied. "And a fair judge listens to the accused's motivations before deciding on a sentence." Kirk scowled, but Spock's expression retained impassive. "Was Miss Rand injured?" he asked.
       "No," Kirk answered. "Scared, but not really hurt."
       "She was able to fend off his attack?"
       "No," Kirk said again, ruefully. "He stopped it."
       "Before any damage was done?" Spock pressed.
       "Physically, yes!" Kirk replied exasperatedly. "All right, I see your point. But can you guarantee he'll always stop, can you be certain next time whoever his target is will have the time to call for help?"
       "Let me explain why it happened, Captain," Valley broke in. "I was telling Mr. Spock when you called him. Sulu and I argued." She took a deep breath, licked her lips and began again. "I had taken half a rec day, and so did Lieutenant Thompson, my roommate. Sulu walked in on us while we were making love. He was angry and hurt, and he left. I was pretty upset myself and went to talk to him. We said quite a few hurtful things to each other and he kicked me out. If I hadn't let him get me angry, if I'd remained objective, he wouldn't have needed to release the tension. It was my fault."
       "So what you're telling me is he needs a pressure valve," Kirk concluded sternly. "And for everyday life. Not exactly calmly rational, Miss Valley."
       "It is precisely 'everyday life' that will cause Mr. Sulu the most trouble," Spock interjected. "We were aware incidents such as this would occur. I feel his reactions are highly favorable."
       For a moment, 'Hypocrites!' flashed in Kirk's mind, underscored by black, anguished eyes, and he gave Spock a grudgingly acknowledging glance, then stared at Ruth. "He doesn't exactly understand what your relationship to him is yet, does he?" He paused. "And just what did you think you were doing taking half a rec day in the first place?" He turned to Spock. "And why did you authorize it?"
       "We thought that perhaps Mr. Sulu would benefit from several hours of unsupervised time," Spock answered. "Obviously it was too soon to give him such freedom. Or," he frowned at the girl, "perhaps Miss Valley should have been more circumspect in her choice of recreation."
       "Or locked the door," Ruth murmured. She caught Kirk's disapproving look and shrugged, flushing.
       "I don't intend to have this crew walk on eggs for Mr. Sulu's sake," Kirk informed them, "but..." he paused, the lieutenant's eyes flashing again in his memory, then sighed. "I do understand. He can't relate to things we accept from birth. That much is clear. And I can hardly condemn a man for seeing what he's been taught to see." He paused again. "I don't want him 'unsupervised' until I think its safe. Other than that..." He grinned uncomfortably. "Well, he won't learn much in the Brig."
       "Thank you, Captain," Spock said.
       "Thank you," Ruth echoed gratefully.
       Kirk nodded. "Dismissed," he said, but he was unable to chase the picture of Sulu's eyes from his mind.

       Sulu paced in the Brig, unconcerned about showing weakness. A part of him was bitterly accepting his own stupidity, his own death, another joyously anticipating it. Sweet gods, freedom at last! Release from this hell, this agonizingly deliberate torment. He had no doubts that he deserved the torture, but one could wish deliverance from the most merited of retributions. He laughed with a sudden, ironic thought. No one there could have brought me to this. The sheep triumphs after all. Of course - who else is senseless enough to attack a hawk? If I wasn't about to die, I could feel terribly vindicated. They were more dangerous then I could've ever imagined.
       He grinned savagely as the force screen was lowered and lifted his eyes to face his executioner. Spock stood in the doorway, Ruth just behind him. Sulu felt the color draining from his face as Spock said, "If you will come with me, please." Triumph and defeat destroyed with only a few words. Sulu spared one venomous glare for Ruth before forcing his features into an unreadable mask. So, the farce continues.
       He was taken back to his quarters, told politely that 'the captain prefers it if Miss Valley or myself accompany you if you wish recreation', then Spock left. He felt Ruth's eyes on him as he walked to the desk, sitting down. None of the unsated bitterness or cheated anger showed on his face as he switched on the viewer.
       "Can I help?" Ruth's voice sounded small and uneasy.
       "I know how to read," was the calm reply.
       "I'll stay, in case you..." she began.
       "That's not necessary," he interrupted.
       "I want to," she said simply.
       "Suit yourself, Miss Valley."
       He ignored her, and several minutes passed before she said, "Sulu, talk to me."
       "Was I using sign language?" he asked dryly.
       "I'm sorry!" She sounded almost desperate.
       "For what?"
       "I didn't mean to hurt you!"
       He looked over at her, deliberately blank. "Hurt me?" he enquired.
       "Jock and - if I'd known you'd wanted - I didn't think - " She was getting completely flustered. " - and anyway you should have knocked!"
       "You're quite right," he agreed tonelessly. "Forgive me."
       "Sulu!"
       "Yes?"
       She stared, helplessly, then her eyes closed, and she whispered, "Please."
       He sighed, carefully patient exasperation. "If you'll excuse me, Miss Valley. I'm trying to research a particular custom. I have an apology to make."

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