rewritten by Cheryl Petterson
The first several hours of walking were relatively easy. Sulu removed his tunic to serve as a carry-bag for the nuts and berries they picked up along the way, but soon the forest began to grow denser. He was obliged to put it back on to avoid being scratched up by the underbrush, “because Jilla already did enough of a number on your back,” Ruth commented. At Jilla’s blush and Sulu’s scowl, Ruth blithely removed her hose, tore one of its legs off and tied a knot just above the ankle.
“Ta da!” she announced, and Sulu scowled again but filled the make-shift sack.
They continued for some time, keeping as much toward the southeast as the terrain allowed, but they were eventually struggling along in single file. It was getting on toward evening when Sulu called a halt.
“We’re going to have to find shelter for the night,” he announced, “and a source of water.”
“I am an engineer, not a forest ranger,” Jilla replied wearily.
“Ruth, Antares is a forested world….”
“Which I left for the comfort of a starship,” Ruth reminded testily.
Sulu sighed. “We’re all tired and not exactly in our elements but we’ve all had survival training,” he said. “Fan out, travel a hundred yards and look for a stream or pool and anyplace that looks defensible.”
“Who died and left you…” Ruth began.
“Ranking officer,” Sulu reminded, and Ruth subsided.
Each started walking in a different direction. Sulu’s head was filled with all the worries and responsibilities that came with command, besides those that came with being newly wed. He tried to ignore those that came with all the eventualities that might require a keheil’s abilities – which contradicted quite annoyingly with the obvious fact that Ruth was more than usually reluctant to use any of them. There was something there, he was sure, but he had no idea what and for once Ruth wasn’t bitching about what was bothering her. The worries and responsibilities that came with that were more than he cared to deal with until he had to.
His reconnaissance revealed only more thick underbrush. Fortunately, his breaking through it left an easily-followed path back. He arrived at their stopping place just as Ruth was returning. She was tucking the torn edge her uniform back into her sleeve. “I think the branches were instructed by Skael,” she commented, and Sulu gave her a weary grin. “Nothing,” she continued by way of a report. “You?”
“The same,” he returned. “If Jilla didn’t find anything, we’ll rotate a few degrees and try again.”
Ruth sighed but nodded. When ten minutes had passed with no sign of Jilla, Sulu was growing concerned.
“You want me to go look for her, Roy?” Ruth asked.
“No. I don’t think we should get separated,” he replied uneasily.
“Who’s the native guide?” Ruth muttered.
“Who’s guided us so well so far,” Sulu snapped back.
“Who suggested we ‘fan out’ in the first place?”
“Don’t keheils need water like us poor mortals?”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“Why aren’t you helping?”
“I did my recon! I offered to find Jilla!”
“And I…” Sulu’s voice stopped as Jilla stepped out from the brush. “Thank god!” he cried, and rushed to take her into his arms.
“What took you so long? Ruth snapped irritably.
“I found a stream,” Jilla replied, gazing at her from within Sulu’s embrace. “I followed it to find a place to make camp.
“See, you are a forest ranger,” Sulu grinned.
“And I’m chopped liver,” Ruth muttered.
They followed Jilla’s trail and found that, only a kilometer or two further down, the stream tumbled over a small drop, forming a waterfall. The ground just above the falls was lush with moss against a ten-foot stand of rocks. They decided to make camp there, for though the sound of the falls could mask a stealthy approach, they could rest with their backs to the wall of rock, and the stream itself protected them on one side. “Better than an open clearing,” Sulu remarked.
There was hardly any set-up required – they had no gear with them. Wood was gathered for a fire. Jilla used Sulu’s knife and dug some tubers and roots. Ruth used the knife to catch and skin a fat rabbit-like creature – after apologizing to it. Sulu lashed the blade to a long stick with some thick vine and speared a couple of fish at the bottom of the falls.
“We really have to have a fire, Ruth,” he said.
“I’m not going to run screaming into the night, you know,” Ruth retorted.
Sulu looked up, glaring at her. “Just once it would be nice if you’d appreciate someone being concerned for you.”
Ruth glared back for a moment, then flushed and turned, walking away from him.
“Jesus, now she’ll play the martyr,” Sulu mumbled, and went back to trying to start a fire.
“Sulu, you hurt her feelings,” Jilla admonished softly.
“And she hurt mine, so I guess we’re even,” he snapped at her.
“She is troubled, and she cannot tell us why…” Jilla continued.
“You mean she won’t.” His voice rose a little. “And if she’s not chopped liver, I wish she’d stop acting like it.”
It took a few tries, but Sulu finely got a spark to catch, and he and Jilla fed it dry leaves and twigs until it was well established. Larger pieces of wood were added and by the time the sun was nearly set, there was a nice strong blaze. Sulu then placed a large, flat stone in the center of the fire for use as a cooking surface. In another hour, there was cooked meat and fish and tubers, roasted nuts and a side of berries. More flattish stones served as plates. To Sulu’s surprise, Ruth had woven a small basket from reeds at the stream’s edge, lined it with large leaves and was able to bring several cups of water for them to share.
“See, I’m a forest ranger, too,” was all she said.
Jilla, of course, refused to eat animal flesh, so Sulu left most of the tuber for her. Ruth threw a few of the nuts at him, but otherwise contented herself with the rabbit meat. It was a surprisingly satisfying meal for them all. Afterwards, Sulu threw the bones and leftover carcasses into the stream. He also threw several herb-like plants onto the cookstone to remove the odor. “We don’t want to attract predators,” he said by way of explanation.
“So we’re all forest rangers,” Ruth remarked.
“Have we seen enough?” Kirk asked as he stretched and almost yawned. He had retaken his seat some time ago. Spock still stood beside him. Skael was also still seated, though he was leaning forward and his face was set in an angry scowl. “I’ve seen that my officers know how to handle a wilderness adventure,” Kirk continued. “Was that the point?”
“Guards!” Skael snapped. “Take them away!”
Kirk shrugged and got languidly to his feet. He gave a small bow. “Your Majesty,” he said, and motioned to Spock, following the guards from the throne room. They walked in easy silence through several corridors and up and down several flights of stairs before ending up in what was obviously an Alconian prison cell – a small, undecorated room that actually had a door, though Spock noted it had no lock.
“After you,” one of the guards sneered.
Jim looked surprised. “Are you joining us?” he replied blandly. The sneer turned furious and the guard made it a point to slam door shut behind Spock.
“I’ll bet they don’t get that satisfaction often,” Jim remarked. At Spock’s quizzical look, he added, “There aren’t that many doors.”
“Ah,” Spock said with an understanding nod.
Jim walked over to the small bed and stretched out on it. “Recommendations, Mr. Spock?”
“It would seem we have little choice,” Spock replied. “The matter is entirely up to the resourcefulness of our junior officers.”
“Or we could overpower the guards outside the door, discover the power source of the stasis field, turn it off, return to the ship, locate the landing party, beam them up, and get the hell out of here,” Jim suggested blithely.
“The Alconians no doubt expect such an attempt and have…” He paused, and raised an eyebrow in sudden comprehension. “Yes, I see.”
Jim smiled. “Shall we make the attempt now or wait until after the evening poisoning?”
“The landing party is likely to be attacked before morning.”
“True.” Jim stood again. “Let’s get this escape on the road.”
The two guards outside the door were surprisingly easy to overcome. One blow across the neck from Kirk, and one nerve pinch and they were alone in the corridor. Kirk turned around once before deciding on a direction, and then started off at an easy jog. Spock followed. They retraced their steps, knowing it was undoubtedly full of double- and triple-backs, but having no other way to navigate the palace. Ducking behind curtains at appropriate times, they reached the suite of rooms that had been assigned to them. It was empty and the screen they had been watching was blank.
“Spock, can you find your way to the throne room from here?” Jim asked.
“I believe so. But I do not believe the power source is there, Captain,” Spock returned.
“Where should we be heading, then?” Jim wanted to know.
“The temple building. Alcon is a Priesthood monarchy.”
“Logical,” Jim smiled. “Now, can you remember how to get us out of the palace?”
“It would no doubt be a much longer way, but once in the throne room, I can direct us to the exit.”
“So we’re going to the throne room anyway.”
“It will be necessary to be certain of taking no wrong turns, sir.”
Kirk sighed. “Ah well. Bones always says I need more exercise.”
It took another hour’s careful navigation, but they finally stood under the archway that led out of the palace. It was full night, but not full dark. Torches blazed from the buildings that formed the palace courtyard.
“And the temple would be…?” Jim questioned.
Spock pointed. “Just to the left, Captain.”
“All right, then.” Jim took a deep breath and prepared to sprint across the opening. But as he took the first step, his body was jarred and a crackling pain shot through him. He slumped to the floor.
“Captain!” Spock exclaimed, then turned at the sound of a screeching alarm. He was not surprised at the sight of more than a dozen guards bearing swiftly down on them.
It was decided that Ruth would take the first watch, mostly by her repeating to every objection, “You’re on your honeymoon.” Which she immediately regretted when she realized it meant keeping the fire going. And that she had to sit alone while Jilla was cuddled in strong, protective arms. Not that Sulu would be cuddling me if Jilla were the one on watch – and who believes that Sulu would let Jilla be the one on watch?
He’s not being that overprotective. Or patronizing. Except for making her walk between us. And panicking because she’s gone a little longer than he expected. And explaining survival protocol about a hundred times a minute. And all this while he’s whining at me for not doing enough…
So tell him.
Why?
He’s technically in command of this little exploration party.
Oh. That.
She sighed, well aware that she was ignoring her own mental suggestion and picked up a stick. Gingerly she tossed it at the fire, scowling when she missed. Rather than get any closer, she found another stick and aimed more carefully.
After the day’s long walk, Jilla fell asleep almost instantly. Sulu was just as exhausted, but holding her warm, soft body close to his made it impossible to rest. He clenched his teeth in frustration. It was a perfect, warm, starry night, and he was damn near alone with the woman he loved and…
And we’re on a mission. And Ruth’s within earshot. And Jilla’s already uncomfortable about last night. He swore silently. Damned Alconians, damned aphrodisiac! I’ll just bet they knew I had to wait a whole damned year and are enjoying torturing me. Maybe they think I should be grateful… no, they knew it would only whet my appetite. Damn it!
Jilla seemed to shrink away from him, and he sighed, knowing his emotions were effecting her even as she slept. He carefully eased her down to the soft moss, moving a few feet away from her. She sighed, visibly relaxing.
Okay, you’re not going to sleep, he thought irritably. Figure out what to do next – in addition to keeping us all alive. The Alconians no doubt know exactly where we are. We’re under a time limit. Maybe we shouldn’t’ve stopped for the night. Yeah, just keep walking until we drop from exhaustion, that’s a much better plan.
Or since you’re awake, take over the watch and let Ruth get a few hours’ sleep so we can start off as early as possible tomorrow.
He got up and moved toward the fire where Ruth was seated, cross-legged, on the ground. Her uniform had again pulled away from her breast and her hair had worked free of most of its braiding. She looked like some sort of Starfleet dryad, and in his present condition, he had to take a deep, calming breath before he spoke.
“All’s quiet, Roy,” she said before he could.
He sat down next to her. “You want to borrow my tunic?” he asked. She frowned and glanced down, then hastily pulled the torn material back up.
“Sorry,” she muttered.
“If it weren’t so damned distracting…” Sulu replied, deliberately teasing.
“No, I meant for…”
“I know,” Sulu interrupted. “Me, too.”
“They’re testing…”
“I know, Ruth.”
“No, I mean…” she stood up, pacing. “They’re testing me. They want me to go keheil on them. And I don’t know how much or how little will blow the whole thing. And Roy…” She turned back to him. “We can’t afford to lose.”
Sulu gazed at her for a while. “And all the rest is just window dressing,” he said at last. “We can rack up all the points we want, but the final round is so big, it’ll hardly matter.” Ruth nodded miserably. Sulu stood, gently taking her by the shoulders. “Why didn’t you say something earlier?”
“I would’ve had to explain how I knew,” she replied. “Spock and the Captain…”
“Whereas Jilla and I will accept what you say without a lot of awkward questions,” he broke in. Again she nodded. Sulu hugged her. She held on a little too tightly for his comfort, and he again grit his teeth. When she pulled away, her eyes twinkled in the firelight.
“How are you doing, Roy?” she asked, more than a little teasing in her voice.
“Frustrated,” was his mock-gruff response.
Ruth grinned. “Thought so.”
“And worried. I think we should get moving as soon as we can. So if you can get a couple of hours of sleep…”
“Won’t you need to…”
Sulu suddenly grabbed her arm, signaling her to be quiet. He glanced past the fire. Ruth slowly turned, gazing toward the other end of the clearing. An acrid odor wafted toward them.
“Do you smell something?” Ruth whispered.
“Yeah,” he murmured back, wrinkling his nose. He recognized it at the same moment Jilla screamed.
FUCK!!!
Spock opened his eyes, taken aback to find himself surrounded by Alconian furnishings instead of trees, but he quickly realized what was happening.
What is it? he demanded of the intruding telepath.
Ambush. Sorry, Boss. Later.
He sat up to find himself not in the small cell, but back in the suite of rooms first provided to them. It made little sense – and this is Alcon, he reminded himself. He rose from the bed and stepped into the main room. The screen was still dark and silent. He found himself wondering if the surveillance had been turned off to spare them the futility of watching an attack they could do nothing about, but that hardly seemed in keeping with Alconian sensibility. More likely was that the Alconians hoped their ignorance would cause them to do something rash.
He stepped past another curtain to find Jim on another bed. He seemed to be sleeping, though after the shock from the force field, Spock needed to make certain. He carefully touched Jim’s shoulder. “Captain,” he said.
Jim’s eyes flashed opened and he sat up abruptly. “What the…!”
“We were captured, sir,” Spock informed him.
Jim took a deep breath, then exhaled slowly. “Of course we were,” he agreed, then swung his legs over the side of the bed, getting up. “What’s the point status, Mr. Spock?”
“Hard to estimate, Captain,” Spock replied. “Your behavior with Skael surely netted us at least twenty points, and the escape attempt another ten. Of course, the outcome was a forgone conclusion, which lost us some points, but we were aware of it, which they know, so perhaps that loss was mitigated somewhat.” Spock paused. “The brings our current balance to 173 to the Alconian 131. However, this does not take into account the actions of the junior officers. Not knowing what the true objective is, I cannot judge…”
“Miss Valley hasn’t used her keheil abilities,” Jim interrupted. “Not even when Sulu asked her to.”
Spock nodded. He debated telling Jim that the landing party was currently being attacked, but could find no way to do so without revealing that Ruth was in sporadic telepathic contact with him. It seemed that information was best kept away from the Alconians.
“So what now?” Jim continued.
“Apparently,” Spock returned, “we wait.”
It was the odor that woke her. It was faint and intermittent, obviously carried on the breeze, but unmistakable. Sulu was no longer beside her and sudden panic ripped through her. She moved fast, rising to her feet, her senses hyper-alert. Too rapidly for words she identified Ruth’s tia, and Sulu’s – and another. It went with the smell and she reached down, picking up a branch that had been gathered for firewood.
Jilla was barely aware that she screamed an Indiian warning cry as the Alconian broke from the underbrush, barreling toward her. She swung the branch with all her might and felt it connect with its target. From the corner of her eye she caught more movement, and prepared for another blow. With horror, she recognized Sulu – and Ruth’s voice screeched “Kroykah!” as Sulu dropped to the ground, executing a precise roll under the branch. The Vulcan command did its trick and Jilla froze, weapon held in the air.
“Just put it down, Jilla,” Ruth said softly. Jilla blinked, taking a deep breath, and did so. Instantly Sulu’s arms were around her.
“Jesus, hon, are you all right?” he asked.
“I – I believe so,” she stammered, shivering with the adrenalin that was pumping through her.
“Did he hurt you?”
“No, I - I gave the first blow.”
“Good for you.”
Ruth had gone to kneel beside the felled Alconian. “Yuck,” she muttered as she tried to examine the man without touching him. “A nice, clean blow to his right temple, Jilla,” she said.
“Is he alive?” Jilla asked anxiously.
“Yeah, but he’s out cold.”
Jilla murmured “sumin tu” as Sulu again began visually scanning the campsite. “Ruth, is it likely there are others?” he asked.
Ruth stood. “I doubt it. If this were an orchestrated attack, we would’ve been overrun.”
“But why would one man attempt…” Jilla began.
“He didn’t,” Ruth replied. “He just didn’t like you.”
Jilla blinked. “Me? What did I…?”
“You insulted him.”
“But you said…”
“Yeah.” Ruth shrugged. “Alconians are like that.”
Jilla struggled to comprehend. “He came back… alone… in the middle of the… to try to harm… because I …?” Ruth nodded. “I do not like this place,” Jilla finished with a shudder.
“Me neither,” Sulu agreed, but there was an edge to his voice. “But he had to get here somehow.” He glanced at Ruth. “Do civilians have access to transporters here?”
Ruth shook her head. “Nope. Only military personnel and only by direct authorization of the king or his consort.”
Sulu nodded as if in confirmation. “Then as soon as it’s light, we’ll fan out.”
“Looking for…?” Ruth enquired
“Whatever transport Smelly used.”
They found it less than an hour after sunrise, a slender grey machine sitting in the center of a small clearing. As they approached it, Jilla became aware of the knowing glances exchanged between Sulu and Ruth, which confirmed what she already suspected. Still, she asked anyway. “Is that a needle?”
“Yes,” Sulu answered, his tia a mixture of excitement, eagerness, pride and embarrassment.
“A needle was Smelly’s transport?”
“Apparently, hon.”
“This is Alcon, after all,” Ruth put in, then grinned at the look on Jilla’s face. “Not so ridiculous when you look at it that way, huh?”
Jilla shook her head, but wisely said no more.
“Could it be a trap?” Sulu wondered as he cautiously approached the vessel.
Ruth did some quick calculating. “The score’s about even, depending on what Boss and Bwana are doing. A trap now wouldn’t be sporting. It’s probably safe.”
“Wouldn’t be sporting?” Sulu wondered.
“It might give them an unfair standing, which would nullify their home field advantage,” Ruth explained.
“But isn’t a home field advantage…?”
“Which is why a trap would be unfair at this stage.”
“Oh,” Sulu said.
“I do not under…” Jilla began.
“Oh,” Sulu repeated, more forcefully. Jilla fell silent. “Spike, have a look at the controls while I check out the engines,” he said.
“Nothing doing, Roy,” was Ruth’s reply. Sulu turned to her.
“What?” he said.
“I’m not going near that thing.”
“You said it wasn’t a trap.”
“Yeah, but it’s still a needle.”
“Ruth…”
“Jilla’s an engineer. Let her check out the engines and you check out the controls.”
“Lieutenant, that wasn’t a suggestion.”
“And I’m offering another plan of action for your consideration, sir,” Ruth snapped, “like a good second in command should. Jilla’s an engineer. And you’re LeRoi. Sir.”
Sulu bristled, but dropped the argument. “Check the engines, hon,” was all he said, and he climbed up into the cockpit.
Ruth sat on the ground and waited. A few minutes later, Jilla came around from the wing.
“The engines seem functional, for a flimsy, unstable, child’s toy,” Jilla said disparagingly.
“Nearly full fuel, all systems check out,” Sulu called from inside the craft. “I tried the com. Still nothing but static.” He appeared from inside the needle, jumping down from it. Ruth stood. Sulu grinned at her and said “uniform.” With a sigh, Ruth readjusted it.
“So what do we do with it?” she asked.
“I’ve been thinking about that,” Sulu returned. “One of us should take her to the Enterprise. But I don’t want to leave the two of you alone here, so, like it or not, Ruth…
“You’re the better pilot, Roy.”
“And I’m in command and your welfare is my responsibility.”
“How is considering flying a needle being responsible for anyone’s welfare?” Jilla asked.
“I think I have a better idea,” Ruth continued, ignoring Jilla’s statement..
“I won’t leave you two alone,” Sulu repeated stubbornly.
“You won’t have to,” Ruth told him. She paused, taking a deep breath. “Two people can fit in a needle, you know.” Another pause. “If they’re very good friends.”
Jilla looked wildly at the craft, then back at Ruth. “No!” she declared adamantly.
“No,” Sulu agreed. “Spike, that’s insane.”
“It will work,” Ruth insisted.
“It’s too dangerous. No one has ever…”
“I’m still alive.”
Sulu blinked. “You?”
Ruth grinned. “And all you two would be doing is flying.”
“‘You two,’ huh?” Sulu muttered, but he turned back to the needle, again climbing up to inspect the cockpit. After a minute, he returned, looking thoughtful. “There’s enough room for the two of you.” Ruth didn’t miss the slight emphasis, but before she could comment, Jilla positioned herself directly in front of Sulu.
“I will not get in that thing,” she stated.
“It will get you off this planet and out of danger,” Sulu began.
“OUT?!” Jilla demanded. “Even being in a needle is perilous enough, but what you are proposing…”
“Jilla, I’ve done it,” Ruth tried to reassure. “It’s not as…”
“NO!”
“… and I meant you and Sulu. He can handle it…”
“And leave you here?” Sulu protested. “I’ve already said I won’t…”
“No,” Ruth answered simply, then flushed. “Remember yesterday when you mentioned teleportation?”
Sulu was silent for a moment, then said, “And what about not going keheil?”
“I’m pretty sure that if I don’t try to use it to play the game, it won’t get us killed.”
“What are you talking about?” Jilla asked miserably.
“You and Roy take the needle to the Enterprise. I’ll teleport there. Since we’re not meeting the terms of the game – we’re not rescuing Spock or the Captain – everything should turn out all right.” She took another deep breath. “It’s the only way to get all three of us off this planet.”
“Could you not teleport all three of us?” Jilla questioned.
“I don’t know,” Ruth answered honestly. “I’ve never tried it. If something went wrong…” She stopped talking. “Besides, the Alconians will expect me to try and save myself.”
“Won’t they expect ‘Federation’ to save each other?” Sulu wanted to know.
“Yeah, but since they don’t approve of that sort of thing, it’ll cost us,” Ruth returned.
“Are you still worried about their points and scores?” Jilla’s voice was almost shrill.
“We have to be,” Ruth said, then sighed. “Jilla, it’ll be all right.” She went up to the Indiian and gave her a quick hug. “Sulu has been flying needles since he was a kid. Hell, it’s safer than the Chutzpah was. And a much shorter ride.” Then she grinned wickedly. “And if this wasn’t a business trip, I’d point out that two in a needle can be a real kick.”
Sulu’s eyes were gleaming at her. “Spill sometime, Spike.”
“When Alcon is just a bad dream, Roy,” Ruth promised.
“Alcon is a bad dream now,” Jilla rejoined sullenly. She glanced at the needle, then at Sulu, then sighed and asked with resigned calm, “Where do I sit?”
Ruth waited for the few seconds it took for the needle to become a silver blur overhead before dragging her attention toward what she had to do. She’d told a little white lie; while it was true she’d never teleported three people, she’d also never teleported one – not even herself.
Ara used to be really good at it, she reminded herself, and she taught me. Just because I didn’t pay too much attention… It’s really just a matter of concentration, no different than a healing. All I have to do is see it and take it only externally rather than internally. That can’t be too hard, can it?
Maybe with ruby slippers…
She took a deep breath and forced herself to forget a sunlit morning in a forest clearing. She conjured a detailed vision of the Bridge of the Enterprise – the central command chair in its sunken well, one step above the Helm and Navigation console, three steps below the rest of the circular area. Communications right behind, Engineering to the left of the turbolift, Defense and Weapons beyond that. The viewscreen before it, Science Station to the right, Life Support to its right. The ever-present thrum of the engines under the soft hiss of life support under the hum of data flow under the chatter and flow of intraship communications under conversation. The bright yet eye-friendly artificial lighting, untinted by any sun, punctuated by colored flashes and indicator lights; amber, emerald, ruby, sapphire, and sharp, even shadows. Metal cool to the touch, smooth, solid comfort, Terran-normal gravity pressing gently against the skin. Here. Home…
Covered in silver skin and not quite real…
Glowing, shielded, a crystalline wall, cold and repelling…
Her being began falling into that coldness as far away she heard herself screaming.
For one long, drawn-out moment, Spock felt his being tugged open, stretching away, then snapping back to painful awareness of the palace room in which he stood. The sensation had not been his imagination, nor did it seem like the effect of any Alconian drug. It had the touch of reality that he could only have described to another telepath. Which, of course, made the answer obvious.
Miss Valley?
He was assailed by cold. Wrapped within the knowledge of what Ruth had attempted, and why, was failure uncomprehended, a child’s cry for help, and the awareness of certain, imminent death.
I should have told her about the stasis field. It was vital information, the link is fact, it could have been used to our advantage if only I had…
Enough. Save her.
The link was open and active. She was attempting to teleport and required a strong reference point, a focus for rematerialization. Full access to his thoughts, his presence, should be a strong enough guide, a not-so-simple matter of lowering every mental shield he had spent nearly forty years acquiring and the time since Shas reestablishing. He determinedly ignored a lifetime of training and discipline, releasing a flood of information to a being nearly trapped in a Slaver stasis field…
First you have to get her attention.
That seemed a logical beginning. He concentrated all the telepathic energy he possessed in one mental shout. Ruth!!!
A scream began in his mind, one that had shape and texture and color. The sensation was momentarily stunning; a quasi-solid representation of terror. Then tendrils of hope began coiling around it, faint awareness siphoning the power of that fear. He force-fed them, opening himself more as the images grew more solid, more recognizable. Articulated thoughts came pouring out of him, forming a bridge, a beacon.
Here. This place, this time, me. Touch me, be with me! Spock Sareklrn. Boss. Desperately. Iocasta, dei’larr’ei! You will not, you cannot die! Ruth, raw-eth, golden one, come to me!
The scream drew nearer, changing shape and color. A flowing of thoughts was followed by a very solid weight followed by a vey solid thump as he crashed to the floor beneath a very solid Ruth Valley.
“Dei’larr’ei?” he heard rasped in his ear.
“It means..." he began.
I know. I remember. Her wonder-filled purple eyes gazed down into his, softening, almost tearing at the implication.
“It seemed to fit the situation,” Spock continued. The wonder became teasing, but Ruth shifted her weight, sat up, and said no more than, “thanks.” Her face seemed pale as he stood, helping her to her feet. He was about to ask her about the ghost of a third presence he had felt the instant before he had called to her, the one who had told him to get her attention. It has had a definitely masculine, protective aura to it – paternal? Her father? Some echo of memory created by the link, or…
Before he could broach the subject, Ruth lurched forward and he found himself supporting her while she vomited. He then carried her to one of the curtained alcoves and a bed.
“My mother never threw up,” she commented distractedly, her tone a puzzled murmur.
It was with no little satisfaction that Spock bent over her, pulling up a blanket, and whispered, “Haifa.”