Mindtrap

Several hours later, Ruth stood next to Spock in the town square. Her hunger had been marginally abated though not by a plate of qualk, she reminded herself. Spock had spent a great deal of Cantian coin on a feast for the entire encampment. They had discussed their next course of action and had decided that every good revolution needed a good rally. Ruth was fine with that though what we need is a good pontification from Bwana, not holy words from Ruth Valley, Goddess. She wasn’t so sanguine about what came after that, but Spock had assured her it was the optimal way to capitalize on the Cantian proclamation of the appearance of divinity within their midst and I love it when he talks that way.

Yeah, it makes you agreeable to every mad, dangerous scheme he comes up with.

Well, yes, but considering that it’s usually the other way around…

She giggled, and realized that she hadn’t had nearly enough to eat. She was still a little giddy. Spock’s voice startled her.

“Children of Liswell,” he boomed out. “Hear the words of the one who has come from the stars, she who fulfills prophecy, she who will lead you to victory in your just and noble cause.”

And with an introduction like that….

She stepped forward. Her hair was a halo of gold around her head and shoulders and she gave her normally tan skin a little help with a slight, golden glow. She raised her arms, staring skyward for just a moment, then slowly lowered them, reaching out to the crowd before her.

“Hear me!” Her voice echoed through the streets. “Too long have the outlanders crouched under the tyranny of the Lord Governors! Too long have merchants fed off your labor while you starve in the streets or die under the soldiers’ sword! The star people have traded with the governors before this, but they have been shown the light! I have revealed all to them, and they come now with help for the people of Canti!” Great shouts arose from the crowd, the chaos that was always the precursor to mob action. “Rison hires beings of unspeakable evil to enslave you, beings from beyond the stars!” Ruth went on. “No more! The star people cannot and will not allow this atrocity to go unanswered! They come to you, they call to you, overthrow the filth that would keep you forever in chains, forever toiling your lives away in the mines! They will stand beside you, and I will stand beside them! We will strike out in vengeance at the rulers of this land! We will aid you in taking back what has always been yours! Their rage and ferocity will atone for their long, silent acquiescence to these atrocities!” She took a deep breath. “Come, rise with us! You have nothing but your misery to lose, and freedom to gain! Freedom from the Lord Governor, freedom from the mines, freedom to rule and trade for yourselves! Rise, outlanders, rise and cry out with one voice! FREEDOM!”

The shout was taken up, repeated as a chant, growing louder and louder. Ruth stood bathed in her self-made golden glow, her arms again raised, an iconic, rapturous presence. Not a few among the crowd had fallen to their knees, their faces covered with tears of holy joy. Then, at a prearranged signal from Spock, she collapsed as though overcome by the divinity within her. He, as her priest, rushed to her side, aiding her off the platform and to the inn.

“Quite convincing, Miss Valley,” he said as he handed her a platter of meat and a mug of water.

“Thanks, Boss,” she said, and stuffed the food into her mouth.

“We can only hope that the rest of our plan goes as smoothly.”

“Hmmph. Hope isn’t what I’d call it.”

You sound exactly like Dr. McCoy.

That’s not an insult, you know.

"Rison’s men will arrive any moment to quell this demonstration,” Spock rejoined. “It would be best if I were not seen. Return to the camp, and I will meet you there.”

Before she could answer, Spock had melted into the chanting crowd. Ruth sighed, bolted down the rest of the food and quickly disappeared herself.

Jilla was humming as she changed the dressing on Sulu’s back, leaning down every so often to kiss his cheek. Sulu was smiling. The numbing solution she was constantly bathing his back and face with had made the fiery pain bearable, and had the added effect of leaving him slightly stoned. He was able to keep conscious, as slightly muddled as that consciousness was. The fact that he had found Jilla, and that she was unhurt made it all worthwhile. He had to be careful, he knew. That she was unhurt didn’t mean she was uninjured. She suffered the same kind of neurological/psychological damage as Monique. But she was alive, healthy, and she remembered him. And for the time being, that was enough.

“You seem happy today, Silver,” Leaan said. She was sitting on the grotto wall, munching on a piece of fruit.

“Why shouldn’t she? She’s done nothing for two days but sit with that one,” Tomlan muttered. He crouched by the fire pit, throwing twigs into the small blaze. Leann glanced sternly at him.

“He was badly hurt, Tom.”

“By order of the Governor,” Tomlan shot back. “He was a prisoner.”

“What of it? There are many prisoners of Rison who have committed no crime other than being outlanders.”

“If we were to be found with him it would mean our lives.”

“We are outlanders! Should we not help enemies of Rison?”

Tomlan stood, crossing his arms. “But he is not!”

Sulu started to raise himself onto his hands. He winced as the pain in his back resurfaced, but determinedly continued. “Ji-” He corrected himself. “Silver isn’t an outlander either,” he said hoarsely.

“No one was speaking to you,” Tomlan snapped. “It is your star people’s trading that gives outlanders their misery. They come and deal with the government, never once considering those that do the actual work. We are not educated or finely dressed. We don’t live in castles or great homes. We count for nothing!” His voice was bitter and sarcastic. “And now one of their number is caught, punished by the great Rison and we are expected to succor and nurse him…”

“Enough, Tomlan!” Leaan exclaimed angrily.

“I have taken responsibility for him, Tomlan,” Jilla said quietly. “It is not your affair.”

“It is when my labor and the labor of my brother and sister provides you with food and shelter while you sit and pour numbweed over a useless parasite!”

Sulu struggled to his knees, grimacing, fighting the flashes of pain. His eyes blazed at Tomlan. “What do you want done?” he demanded through tightly clenched teeth.

Jilla attempted to pull him back down. “No, Sulu, you are not strong enough!”

“Ignore my brother,” Leaan added with a withering glare at Tomlan. “He is a jealous fool. He thinks he can claim Silver because she’s allowed him in her bed.”

Sulu twisted in shock toward Jilla. It can’t be true, she couldn’t… she wouldn’t…! With the movement, bitter fire shot through his back as the lacerations were broken open. He gasped sharply, dropping onto his hands. His arms refused to support him, his face hitting the straw and dirt beneath him. Jilla immediately refreshed the bandaging of his back with more of the cool, soothing liquid, bending down to him.

Sulu’s face was tight with controlled anguish and she quickly, carefully wiped the dirt from his cheek, wetting it with numbweed.

“Forgive me,” she murmured, “I was… I had no… I could not…” Her voice broke with soft sobs.

“I… I can’t believe…” Sulu rasped.

“All I had was the dark man,” she whispered, tears falling to her cheeks. “Tomlan took the memory away, and you were gone from me….”

Sulu’s eyes closed. There was too much to sort through, too much to hear and the renewed pain was too great. And now, the fact that she remembered him was no longer a comfort.

Spock was sitting alone by one of the small fires when Ruth returned to the encampment. He looked pensive, and Ruth knew he was reconsidering their agreed-upon strategy. Not that I think it’s the greatest plan in the galaxy, she thought, but it has the advantage of a high likelihood of actually working. So what’s there to reconsider?

She made her way to his side, crouching down next to him.

“No time for self-doubt, Mr. Spock,” she said brightly.

“Indeed,” was his taciturn response. He was silent for a few moments, then took a breath. “Miss Valley, while we need to discover the captain’s whereabouts, and the most expedient means is the abduction we have spoken of…” He paused, then glanced at her. “I am concerned for your well-being.”

Spock, I’m touched! “I’m a big girl, Boss,” she said out loud. “A keheil can take care of herself, believe me.”

“I have been going over Dr. McCoy’s reports, and I believe I know what caused Ensign DuBois and Lieutenant Riley’s amnesia, and if I am correct…”

Spill, Ruth thought, but she waited.

“…my concern is that you may not be immune.”

“I don’t know what I can’t do until I can’t do it,” Ruth returned. “We already know Terrans – and very likely Indiians aren’t immune, so there would be no point in trying to send in a security team, now, would there?”

Spock frowned. “True. However, a Klingon mindsifter….”

“Oy geveult!”

“… could only be used on one person at a time. There would be a fair chance that a full security team could…”

“Get Bwana killed.” She stared at him until he raised an eyebrow in capitulation. “Look, Boss, I don’t really relish the whole letting myself get caught by Romulans and Klingons – not to mention sadistic Cantian pricks – but we can’t afford to wait for Mendez and we can’t blatantly screw the Prime Directive regardless of what your precious Silmarils say about the fate of the universe so I’m it.”

Spock’s eyes were locked onto hers, his voice quietly sincere. “It is preferable to rely on an intelligent, competent, quick-thinking officer in whose abilities I am confident when something as important as the safety of the captain is involved.”

Rush blushed, her mind and heart warming with the penultimate compliment he had just paid her. But he must be really worried. She let a look of shocked suspicion cross her features. “Now wait a minute,” she said, “you’re always telling me that I’m immature, illogical, irrational, emotional…”

Spock blinked, and for a moment Ruth was afraid he’d take her teasing seriously. He might even whimper, she worried. But from the gleam in his eyes, she knew he had understood her desire to retreat from the intensity of the conversation.

And the intensity of your emotions.

His too!

The ‘your’ was meant plurally.

“But that is in comparison to what I would expect from a Vulcan assistant,” Spock stated calmly, “a mental habit I find myself succumbing to with annoying frequency. A small fault,” he admitted. “Still if I were to measure you against any other Starfleet lieutenant, I have no doubts as to who would be found wanting.”

Ruth gave him her best smile.

“Is it something I perhaps neglect to tell you. I am not given to praising what I consider to be the correct and properly superlative functioning of one skilled enough to have been chosen as my assistant.”

Goddess, I love it when he talks like that!

Or perhaps you simply love….

Shut up.

“…to have been chosen as my assistant.”

And my wife.

It was dark, the stench of the river as unwelcome as the cold dampness it carried with it. Ruth lay silently, feigning sleep, nervous and trying not to be scared out of her wits. There was a small transmitter glued to her scalp somewhere amid the mass of hair. It would have been preferable all around if it could have been subcutaneous, but her body firmly rejected any such foreign implant. The transmitter was supposed to enable her to be traced and located for emergency beam-up. She hoped both that it would and wouldn’t be necessary. Goddess, it was cold! And me the one who likes cold showers, she thought idly. She considered moving closer to Spock who was no doubt as asleep as she was. For warmth. He’s got to be twice as uncomfortable as I am. He’d appreciate the logic in that.

Logic. Sure…….

Shut up.

Maybe I could at least talk to him. It might calm my jitters…

Yeah? Did that work earlier? “Miss Valley, I calculate that, since Rison’s men have seen you, they will attempt a raid on the camp. There is an eighty-seven point two one percent chance it will be tonight. They will not want to wait. And since you intend no resistance, there is a ninety-four point seven percent chance they will succeed.”

“What, not one hundred?”

“The outlanders will no doubt attempt to protect their Goddess. They may succeed.”

She shivered, then turned to face the Vulcan, carefully making certain it appeared no more than a position change in her sleep. She glanced at his face and whispered into darkness.

I only want to say, if there is a way, take this cup away from me for I don’t want to…

Aren’t you carrying this goddess thing a bit too far? What can they do, really, that you can’t heal?

Tell me something you can’t do.

I don’t know.

This is just great….

She heard a noise and suddenly Spock’s arm came around her waist, pulling her close to him.

“Judas, must you betray me with a kiss?” she whispered.

I beg your pardon?

Never mind.

All hell broke loose.

There were cries and yells as men poured into the tunnel, brandishing swords and torches. Spock leapt to his feet to defend her and was quickly dispatched with a blow that would’ve normally caused him to blink; maybe twice. He had to appear to be felled rapidly so that she would be unprotected and he could begin to monitor the transmissions from her transmitter. Also, if he went down and stayed down, the chances were good that he wouldn’t be too carefully scrutinized. Which was important because there were Klingons in the attacking force. Besides, Holy Ones weren’t supposed to possess the strength of thousands.

You know, Ruth told herself, he didn’t put his arm around you in an affectionate gesture of farewell. One white-robed figure in a crowd would be difficult to miss, but two, close together, logically, would be nearly impossible...

Keep tellin’ yourself that, Ruthie.

He’s right, you do sound just like Bones.

A heavy club struck her, and she let it render her unconscious.

Sulu lay propped up on one elbow, watching Jilla’s eyes. The night wasn’t yet very cold, and his back was numb. He knew the pain would start again, and he wanted to stave it off long enough to get some idea of what had happened to her. He had his suspicions and prayed they weren’t true, but the fear and shame in her eyes didn’t hold out much hope. He had done what he could to banish his own sense of betrayal. She had no memory, which means she didn’t remember damnation, he told himself determinedly. Indiians were naturally free with their sexuality and without knowledge of culture, marriage, or much of anything beyond basics and instinct, what she had done with Tomlan couldn’t very well be called infidelity. And whatever happened with the Klingons wasn’t her choice. She remembered that she loves you, he reminded himself. That has to be enough. “Tell me about the dark man,” he said as gently as he could.

She shuddered, wrapping her arms around her body. “I do not want to,” she whispered.

“I know. But someone did something to you, to block your memory and give you pain at – ” He paused. “At the things you used to know.” Carefully he willed himself to feel safe and warm and loving. “I’m here, Silver, and you’re with me now. He can’t hurt you anymore.”

“Sulu, I cannot… I dare not…” Her voice trembled with panic.

“Look at me,” he said, and let his tia make it a command, knowing she would respond. Her grey eyes danced with images of something and somewhere else. “I need to know, you need to tell me. I want to make it leave you, but I can’t until I know what it is. I love you, I’ll protect you, but you have to talk to me.”

She lowered her gaze and crawled to him, fitting her body next to his. He winced, but took a deep breath to calm the twinges of pain, and carefully lowered himself so that he was spooned behind her. He softly kissed her shoulder. “Tell me what you remember.”

“An Indiian? Kirk runs a ship full of aliens!” Kor exclaimed.

“You were correct, Governor. Nothing can be gotten from them through any normal means of questioning,” Tal paused, “though this one is particularly susceptible to certain Romulan methods.” The dark eyes gleamed.

“Only if you wish to keep her, my friend. And that’s not part of your mission, is it?”

“True enough.” Tal chuckled. “My wife would hardly approve.” Another pause. “Will this device of yours work?”

“Of course. We will either get the information we desire, or render the subjects completely useless to the Federation,” Kor grinned. “Or both.”

One arched eyebrow lifted. “How so?”

"Amnesia, dear Tal, with a twist; a built-in deterrent to re-education. We’ll simply turn them loose and Rison will report that a thorough search has disclosed nothing. Kirk is a fool. He will send, probably lead a rescue party. Rison catches him, reports this violation of the treaty, and Canti is free to trade with whoever they wish without Organian interference.”

“A superbly simply plan, Governor. My compliments.”

Kor laughed. “Thank you, Commander.” He grabbed the Indiian by the arm. “Care to watch this one, since she’s so… susceptible?”

“I fear the temptation would be too great. I will, however, be anxious to see the results of your methods.”

The thing was strapped to her head. She felt a probing begin, like a mindmeld but cold and painful. Starfleet training took over. One plus one is two. Two plus two is four. Humpty Dumpty sat on a wall. Little Bo Peep has lost her sheep. In a hole in the ground there lived a Hobbit. More probing, deeper, more painful…. Jilla Costain Majiir, Lieutenant aboard the… NO! T’was brillig, and the slithy toves did gyre and gimble in the… Ten millimeters to a centimeter, ten centimeters… the Ramans do everything in threes… the composition of the hull plating… STOP! When in the course of Human events... She could feel her mind’s defenses weakening, the pain growing stronger; stinging, biting cold inside her head. It pounded sharply, a pressure that steadily increased. The schematic designs of basic ship’s components… Command training wasn’t enough. She desperately called upon Vulcan discipline. Kah ros k’ln, t’an torrsct lk’n spr’tn, aro’ r’llng gor… et ka! Et k’ln! Et…! No pain, there is no…

Ruth screamed. Her mind had no trouble rejecting the probe, but couldn’t reject the pain. Her training was in absorbing and dealing with it, and so she did; tearing, twisting agony, mindless terror. There was no thought of relenting, no wish to give in, but the pain, the icy fingers, the freezing, searing, biting, unending…

“Who are you?”

“Ruth ani Ramy.” More pain.

“Who are you?”

“Ruth ani –“ Glacial terror.

“Who are you?”

The scream of torment, the blankness of mind. Only pain, unbearable, unendurable, never think it again, never, anguish, horror, confusion…

Who am I?

No answer.

“It’s done, Commander.”

“Once more. Who are you?”

Screaming, uncontrollable agony.

“Good.”

Lieutenant Ruth Maxwell Valley ani Ramy. So there.

Jim sat in the corner of his cell, too tired to pace. If one judged by three meals a day, and why aren’t they starving me? he’d been held captive for three days. Three days in a dank, dark hole with only his thoughts for company. That wasn’t like Klingons at all. Damn Romulans and their cat and mouse games. Keep Kirk in the dark, literally and figuratively, and his defenses will weaken? He set his mind. Wrong, he thought grimly. He tried to keep his thoughts clear, away from futile worry, but it wasn’t easy. Were Sulu and Spock alive? He’d torn the flesh at his wrists in his struggle to free himself watching Rison’s ‘public display.’ He could still see the horrible sight, still hear the crack of the whips against the backs of his best friend and one of his best officers. Spock had at some point simply willed unconsciousness. Sulu, poor man, had had to wait until Human resources gave out. He shook his head, but couldn’t stop the workings of his mind. Was anyone else captured? Has Kevin Riley or Jilla Majiir been found? Is my ship safe?

The questions started to tear at him. What had they done to Monique DuBois? Vividly he could hear her screams. Why did anything connected with the Federation cause such violent reactions? Could the mental block to her memory be broken? Were Riley and Majiir in the same state? Will I have to commit three fine officers to a rehabilitation colony? What have the damned Klingons and Romulans done to my people!

He heard the screams again… Wait! That sound wasn’t coming from inside his head. A woman was screaming somewhere not far away.

He got up and went to the door of his cell. He couldn’t see anything through the small, barred window. Then the screaming stopped. A small light bobbed down the corridor, growing steadily; a guard, carrying a torch. Two more guards followed, dragging a white-robed, golden-haired figure.

“Ruth!” Jim cried out.

The woman’s head jerked up, violet eyes glazing, sounds of pain escaping her throat. The guards laughed and pulled her past Jim’s door, the torrential flood of obscenities following them.

The camp was in an uproar. Several people were dead, many more dying. All were wailing the loss of their goddess.

It had been Spock’s intention, through divine inspiration – and the help of Ruth’s transmitter – to lead an avenging mob directly to the goddess, and with luck, Jim Kirk. But the transmitter had been knocked from her scalp and with Romulans present, he could not risk attempting to contact her telepathically. Plus, he did not know how a Klingon mindsifter would affect her abilities. He had no idea where in Rison’s immense castle either she or the Captain would be held.

Frey was standing over a dead body, his voice rising over the din. “Outlanders!” he cried. “Will this outrage go unanswered? Will we slink back into our holes and leave our Goddess in the hands of Rison’s foul men? Aid she promised us, but should the star people aid those who are unwilling to fight and die themselves?” The crowd was answering his questions with angry shouts of agreement.

Fortuitous that Cantians are so easily stirred to violent action, Spock mused to himself, then turned at Lieutenant Chekov’s voice.

“Mr. Spock,” the young Russian whispered. “Are we really going to storm the palace?”

“Can you suggest a way to stop the Outlanders?” Spock returned.

“I wouldn’t want to try, sir.”

“Then the answer to your question would be yes.”

“Won’t that endanger the captain?”

“With luck, Mr. Chekov, Miss Valley has already seen to his safe exit.”

“I thought you didn’t trust to luck, sir.”

Spock merely raised an eyebrow. Chekov gave him a wan smile and turned to help egg on the Outlanders.

I do not, Mr. Chekov, except when luck is all we have.

Ruth woke to a sharp kick in her ribs. What now? she thought groggily. She needed rest desperately. Staving off the effects of the mindsifter had taken a great deal out of her already depleted system. The guards had moved her twice, and the amnesia game was getting increasingly difficult. She was pulled to her feet and pushed out of her cell. Where to this time? she wondered, stifling a yawn. And Boss, isn’t the cavalry about due? She didn’t know how long she’d been in the dark, but even the dim light from the torches along the staircase hurt her eyes. When she was shoved into the brightly-lit chamber, she shut them hastily and heard voices.

Jim said, “Do you really believe Klingons will honor any agreement made with you?”

Kor responded, “Our treaty with the Federation was forced upon us without our consent – surely you remember, Captain? Our treaty with the Romulans was not. We do not feel honor-bound to uphold agreements made for us.”

Jim again: “Klingons, talking of honor? I didn’t know you had the concept.”

She heard a resounding slap and opened her eyes. Jim Kirk was heavily chained, standing at one end of the small room. Both Kor and the Romulan, Tal, were seated in carved, wooden, throne-like chairs, Kor obviously having just resumed his seat. Rison stood between Kor and Tal. There was a welt across the captain’s face.

“Captain Kirk," Tal said, and Ruth winced just in case Kor or Rison were watching her. “We are aware of your opinions of our allies. Kindly keep them to yourself.”

“The Antari,” the guard announced, and Ruth winced again.

“Ah,” Kor said, and Ruth shuddered. How he could make one syllable sound so oily was beyond her comprehension. His voice rose. “Come, girl.”

She hesitantly crossed the room, willing herself not to blast him into the next galaxy.

“Kneel, there’s a good little pet,” he murmured.

Shaking, Ruth did as he said. He rose from his chair, moving to stand close to her.

“You said she was special,” Rison said. “Other than the delight her obvious beauty would be in a man’s bed, what uses does she have?”

Kor turned to Jim. “Will you explain, Captain?” he asked. Jim set his jaw. “No? Then allow me to demonstrate.” He took a dagger from his belt, and before Ruth could react, he grabbed her wrist. The loose sleeves of her robe fell back, and he slashed the blade across her arm. She gasped and heard Jim mutter, “murdering bastard,” and Kor said, “Heal it.”

Having no choice, she did. It took longer than usual.

“Fine for her,” Rison said dryly. “Of what use is that to us?”

Kor only smiled in answer. The knife slashed again, this time leaving a deep cut in his own arm. He held it out to Ruth. She recoiled.

Heal you, you monster? she thought disgustedly. I’d sooner heal a Denebian Slime Devil!

Kor grabbed her by the hair. “Heal it!” he commanded. She pulled away.

After what he did to Spock, to Roy…

ani Ramy, if help is asked for…

Shut up!

“You’ll bleed to death before you convince her,” Jim said grimly. Kor’s face twisted in anger and he sharply jerked Ruth’s head up, meeting her eyes.

“Ruth ani Ramy,” he said savagely.

Goddess, the amnesia game! she thought in wild despair. If they were to find out their little toy doesn’t work on you, the captain’s dead! You have to play along, you have to!

She cried out, filling her mind with the revulsion of her mother’s name spoke by a Klingon. It worked. Kor was convinced. He thrust his still-bleeding arm toward her. She shuddered, screamed inside, and touched the wound.

She could feel Rison’s fascination as Kor’s arm closed and her own opened. She sobbed, concentrated, and her own arm healed. Then she collapsed in a heap on the floor. Dimly she heard Rison say something about invincible troops, and Tal interject that such a thing was extremely tiring. Kor chuckled.

“There are ways of keeping her awake.”

“Not and keep her functioning,” Jim interrupted, his voice both furious and concerned.

“Oh?” Kor’s tone was unbearable arrogance. “Shall we test it?”

She was slapped to alertness and dragged again to her feet. Kor grinned hideously and stuck the knife he held into Jim’s stomach, ripping it upwards toward the lungs. Jim screamed, and Kor stood back.

Tears forced their way into Ruth’s eyes. How can I take that? I’m nearly drained as it is!

If you don’t, Jim will die. Find the strength somewhere.

Zehara, help me!

She staggered to him, groping blindly. She fell to her knees, her hands touching his chest.

“No!” he hissed. “Miss Valley… no…”

She cried out in despair, a good enough imitation of fear.

“Ruth, you can’t…” His voice was a strangled rasp of agony. She feigned fear again, the act straining what little reserves she had left.

“Lieutenant… an order…”

Why won’t you shut up and remember! Bwana, you idiot…

She looked at his face and cried “Bwana!” as though it were a word for pain. His eyes grew startled even through the anguish, and she whispered softly, yet fiercely, “Bwana!”

She didn’t know if she had gotten through to him. His eyelids fluttered as he passed out from the trauma. And Ruth healed.

She woke less than half an hour later to cold water splashing on her face. Her mind screamed for sleep and her eyes closed. A hand stung her cheek. She ignored it. More cold water, more sharp blows. Alright, I’m awake! She slowly opened here eyes. When they focused, she realized she was in yet another room.

“Antari.” Kor said. Something in the way he said it assured her he was not going to simply taunt her, then go away and leave her alone. Other than the delight her obvious beauty would be in a man’s bed, what uses does she have? She moaned softly to herself. She was too tired to fight him. Who was it that said if rape is inevitable, lie back and enjoy it? Lie back she would. She couldn’t make her exhausted body do otherwise. Enjoy it? She’d enjoy the plague more.

She felt her robe being ripped. What is it this man has about ripping clothing? She abruptly remembered Sulu and Spock in the town square. A fierce anger started within her, a desire to reach out and twist the life from the repulsive bastard. But there was no strength left in her, and her hatred seethed inside her as she forced herself not to think.

The small, pale woman opened her eyes. The pain was gone, the probing had stopped. She was curled up on a rug in a small, dimly lit room. There was someone moving about in the semi-darkness. She raised her head.

The dark man stepped out of the shadows. His smile was malevolent, leering at her. Panic swirled around her and she backed away. He came towards her. She whimpered at the desire that beat at her senses. A blade glinted in his hand, and he jerked it toward the bed that stood across the room. Her eyes widened with a fear that touched her very soul. She could not let him touch her, would not, no one except…

He grabbed her arm, ripping the sleeve of the tunic she wore. He propelled her to the bed and she stumbled, falling across it. Her mind screamed, ‘Resist! Fight!’ and it was stronger than the fear. She rolled away from the arms that came down to imprison her and sprang to her feet. Her hand shot towards the dark man’s shoulder. She felt the slice of the blade against her thigh and it was enough to stop the momentum of her hand. She twisted, dropping into a crouch. The dark man stood over her, blade held ready, an amused light in his eyes.

“Come get me, girl,” he said. Cruelty and insolence covered the words.

She sprang, both hands aimed at his face, then abruptly changed her attitude, her left arm arcing down to strike the knife from his grip. It clattered to the floor as the man fell back in surprise. Again she reached for his shoulder, and he shouted, “Lieutenant Jilla Majiir!”

She dropped to her knees, terror pounding in her head. She felt the man grab her, pulling her back to the bed and her strength renewed. She clawed at him, feeling his skin under her fingernails. He let out a cry, then sharply backhanded her.

“Engineer aboard the U.S.S. Enterprise,” he snarled.

Pain surrounded her, her mind falling into icy cold and piercing metallic brightness. His hunger pounded into her as he touched her, fondled her, but the panic overwhelmed her and she was unable to fend off his assault. He pushed the short tunic up over her hips. His breath was foul as he chuckled, his body climbing over hers, parting her legs… no, sumin tu, do not let him….!

“Silver!”

She woke with a start. She was lying on her back bathed in sweat, trembling, her face streaked with tears. Sulu leaned over her, his eyes anxious, worry pouring from him in waves as tangible as the pain that still dominated his senses. She began sobbing, unable to stop the shame and remembered terror. Carefully he lowered himself, then pulled her into his arms.

“It was a dream,” he murmured, “Just a dream. It’s over now.”

“Sulu, it keeps coming, it won’t let me rest…!”

“Hush, hon, I know. I’m here, I love you.” He stroked her hair, gently caressing her ears. “It’s gone, now, baby,” he whispered. “You’re safe, I’ll find a way to get us back home.” His voice warmed her, his touch soothed her. The shame was still sharp, but he accepted, he loved her still. Somehow, that made it bearable. She gazed into his eyes, and he smiled. She whispered that she loved him just before insentience took her.

Sulu’s smile quickly faded. She had told him all she remembered. He knew what she had dreamt and could guess well enough who ‘the dark man’ was.

That goddamned filthy pig of a Klingon bastard! I swear if I never see the Enterprise again, I’ll find a way to repay that sick-fuck!

Jilla stirred in her sleep and he took a deep breath, calming the furious emotions, ignoring the discomfort the movement sent through his back. The last thing he wanted to do was trigger more nightmares. Not that he wasn’t used to them. She often woke, tormented by her damnation, needing him to accept and give her back her sense of worth. Now she has to add Kor’s ghost to Selar’s, he thought bitterly.

He closed his eyes. Jilla always felt so small in his arms, so helpless. Who would guess she had a core of pure neutronium? You’re so beautiful, hon, he reflected. Her pale skin sparkled in the moonlight, a shimmering contrast to the deep, velvety richness of her burgundy hair. I love you so damned much…. It’s hard not to when your very chemistry needs me. I know you worry about that. You think I feel cheated, that I think you love me only because of a set of chemical reactions that you can’t control or deny. He’d tried to convince her that it hardly mattered. Scientists had been proving for years that emotions were only a set of chemical reactions. The only thing that matters is that you accept what is. I love you, you love me, and I need you every bit as much as you need me.

He whispered her name softly to the night, unable to say it to her. Whatever the Klingons had done, they’d done it thoroughly. Damn that smug, imperious butcher! When she did manage to regain the smallest memory, her head plagued her for hours. But she remembers me, she remembers love, he thought savagely. Not even your rape could take that away from us!

With a start, he realized all it had taken from her – and all that he hadn’t once thought of since waking in the grotto. He wasn’t on leave, this was a mission, to find and return the Enterprise’s officers. How many days had it been? Four? Five? He didn’t know. His back cried for attention, but he ignored it. He should start to move, despite the pain. He should get up, take Jilla and find some remnant of the landing party. Chekov, Kelly and Ordona were hiding out as thieves. Jilla’s companions would know where thieves usually gathered. He could find them there and get Jilla back on board and get yourself to Sickbay. Then he could find out just what had happened to Spock and Ruth and Uhura and the Captain…

And Kor, when I catch up with you, you’ll curse the day the bitch you’re the son of bore you.

Go To Part Five

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