To Ruth’s surprise, the door slid open. Shit, I forgot to lock it! her mind screamed at her. She heard the door close behind her. She stared, her breath catching in a rasp of pure embarrassment. Jilla was on her knees, her shoulders pushed down to the deck, her skin emanating a bright silver glow. Spock knelt behind her, over her, his teeth sunk into the back of her neck. His strong hands held her body to his powerful thrusts.
The words burst from Ruth’s lips in anguish. “Spock NO!”
Spock roared, pulling away from Jilla.
Jilla shrieked, her eyes fever-bright, as she swiftly craned her body around to glare murderous fury at the intruder. She went into a crouch and Spock’s hand abruptly slashed across her face. Ruth saw him tense, and spring…
The door closed behind Ruth. Kirk turned to McCoy. “How long will it take to…”
The door opened, they heard a fierce snarl of “Et kah!”, and Ruth came flying out of Spock’s quarters, landing quite solidly against the opposite bulkhead.
McCoy rushed to her. Kirk opened his communicator, calling for Security.
“Ruth, are you all right?” McCoy asked anxiously.
“I think so.” Ruth’s answer was tremulous.
Kirk knelt beside her. “What happened?”
Ruth turned bright red, her eyes closing. “I… uh… interrupted.”
“Ruth, you’ve got to give Mrs. Majiir that injection,” McCoy said as Kirk helped her to her feet.
“Can’t it wait?” Ruth begged miserably.
“Afraid not. The serum will lose its potency and it’s all I’ve got.”
Sulu raced up the corridor to them. “Security,” he said before Kirk could question why he wasn’t at the Helm. “What’s happened? Was there an accident?”
“Spock,” Kirk began, then turned to Ruth. “Spock?” She nodded. “Spock threw Ensign Valley out of his quarters. Literally.”
Sulu stared in disbelief. “Why?” he finally managed.
“I though you knew about…”
“I do,” Sulu broke in hastily. “But that only makes… I mean why would he… she’s female, and…”
“She interrupted him and Ensign Majiir,” Kirk explained, a little uncomfortably. Sulu looked incredulous.
“Jilla?” he stammered. “She’s the one he’s… why… how…”
“Yes, Lieutenant,” Kirk said tightly. “Not only is she the one, she’s the reason.” As Kirk gave Sulu a fuller explanation, McCoy checked the hypo again and turned to Ruth.
“Come on, Ruthie, you have to try again.”
She groaned, then took a deep breath. “Listen, I won’t be able to get within ten feet of her, not with Spock the way he is.”
“Then we’ve got to get her away from him,” McCoy said grimly.
“Or vice versa,” Sulu added thoughtfully. He turned to Ruth. “Spike, if you go in there, and get away from the door, will Mr. Spock come after you?”
“He sure as hell will,” Ruth muttered, ignoring Kirk’s mouthed, “Spike?” and McCoy’s silent shrug.
“All right, then,” Sulu returned. “You divert him and I’ll get Jilla out of his quarters. Then Dr. McCoy can give her the injection.”
“She’s too strong for one man,” Ruth said. “Except for Spock,” she added ruefully.
“We have two,” Kirk pointed out.
Ruth eyed him, then sighed. “When Jilla’s taken care of, will you come and rescue me?”
“Will you want me to?” Sulu asked, his dark eyes twinkling. Ruth scowled as Kirk said,
“Of course, Ensign.”
“But we shouldn’t need to,” McCoy put in. “Once Jilla’s out of there, Spock should be able to regain control. His blood tests showed elevated hormones but not the enzymic buildup. I don’t think he’s in it.
Ruth sighed again. “I hope you’re right, Bones.” She straightened. “Doctor, Captain, Lieutenant, it was nice knowing you.” She stepped toward the door.
Spock and Jilla were again in the throes of animalistic coupling. Ruth tried to block the scents and sounds as she slid into the room. Jilla immediately reacted, growls of menace coming from her throat, and Spock looked up. His gaze locked onto hers as she edged along the wall, moving toward his desk. Her heart beat faster, her skin flushing. She prayed vehemently to the Jewish God, knowing that – with the telepathic urgency that was surrounding her – to ask the Zehara for help would only be inviting an orgy.
Spock slowly turned his head, watching the intruder. The female whimpered beneath him, her small body writhing back to him enticingly. She had growled a threat, and now she attempted to distract him. But his eyes, his hunger was riveted on the golden female. Who is she? Who was offering her to him and why? Does my family fear that the little one is not sufficient? Or is this to be a new pleasure? The little one hunts me as often as I hunt her. Is this to be another kind of hunt? A battle, perhaps? He knew the little one was strong. Her claws had raked across his flesh with pleasing ferocity. Is the golden one strong? Perhaps she would prevail. Then she will be mine. He growled deeply at the pleasure that thought brought to him. Yet… why should I not have them both? Yes, that is the reason she is here. After T’Pring’s betrayal, they seek to appease me, to honor my resolve. The little one will wait. She is my mate, she will obey.
There will be no battle.
He pulled his organ away from his mate’s enveloping folds. He spoke softly, but with firm command: “Go to the soft place. Wait for me there.” She snarled defiance and he cuffed her ear, as one would a child. “Do as you are told!” he ordered. She whimpered, but scrambled to obey him.
He rose, allowing the golden female to examine and admire the strength of his erection, still glistening from the wetness of his mating. Her eyes were large, but they seemed to grow larger still. Pride filled him. He circled her, his voice low and compelling. “Come to me.”
Ruth couldn’t stop staring as Spock moved toward her, obviously stalking her. His body had never looked so lean, so undeniably masculine. That’s because of the huge cock, don’t ya think? her mind unnecessarily pointed out. He was flushed a deep green, his entire being radiating sensual power. His eyes were gleaming at her, dark and knowledgeable, but there was no sentience. It was feral knowledge, feral power. Roy, Captain, where are you!?
“En kah,” he suddenly breathed at her. His voice was deep and commanding, full of desire and the expectation of obedience. She wanted to fling herself into his arms, so rich, so compelling was the sound. His body tempted her, the waves of confident hunger he exuded burned in her mind. Her shields were crumbling under the hedonistic assault, her empathy responding to the promise of wild and wanton delight. And worst of all was the added knowledge that this was a healing thing, a biological imperative. Though her mind contradicted her, reminding her that it was Jilla who faced death, Spock’s urgency pulled her to heal his need.
She realized her breath was coming more and more rapidly, her heart pounding in rhythm with the desire in her own genitals. She sensed it when he reacted to it, even before the pleased purring began coming from his throat. He spoke again the words of passionate demand, and she closed her eyes…
And heard the hiss of the door opening. Jilla cried out and she opened her eyes again in time to see Spock turning from her, and Sulu and Kirk half-carrying, half dragging Jilla out the door.
Jilla screamed, her hands clawing at the males who were taking her from her mate. Incoherent sounds came from her, her mind reeling in panicked terror. No… NO! I am his! HIS!
“Spock!” she shrieked. “SPOCK!”
Hurt them… escape… run! Too much bright… the metal… males… fear! Dimly, her mind remembered injections and pain. She fought like a wildcat, horror driving her. Fear… pain… run… pain… fear…
“JILLA!” Spock roared. He leapt after Kirk and Sulu, and Ruth raced to the door. It slid closed in front of her and she slammed the lock, then whirled, her back against the metal.
Yea, though I walk through the shadow of the valley of death…
Spock approached her, a cold fire blazing in his eyes. This golden one tricks, he thought darkly. She was not sent to honor me, but to steal my mate! Do they think she is strong enough to kill me, this m’lk’tah’fee? He snarled. I will tear her open, then hunt the males she brought to cheat me!
He moved toward her, watching her eyes, ready to attack. They widened again, and she spoke, breathless sounds, urgent sounds:
“Spock! Commander… god, please, Commander, think!”
Words. They have… meaning. Ko… ko man…komander. Commander, think! A voice screamed somewhere in the back of his head. Images formed, gold stripes on blue – the same blue fur – no, clothing. Uniform. Blue uniform with gold… golden… hair, golden skin… A name. Raw eth. Ruth.
“Ruth?” Spock said.
Jilla’s fingernails scored sharply across Kirk’s face.
“Ouch! Jesus, Bones, hurry up with that hypo!”
Sulu grasped at her arm, trying to hold it steady. McCoy rushed in and pressed the hypospray to it. She screamed and arched her back in agony. She clutched at Sulu, desperately trying to escape the pain, then fell against him, unconscious.
“Get her to Sickbay,” McCoy ordered.
“What about Ruth?” Sulu asked.
“Ruth can take care of herself, son,” McCoy returned.
“And if she can’t, she deserves whatever she gets,” Kirk added, gingerly touching his cheek.
“Ruth?”
“Thank god!”
Spock’s mind began to seep back to him, and with it came embarrassment and utter humiliation. An animal, she had seen him an animal. More than that. McCoy and Kirk… and Lieutenant Sulu… how many others?
He closed his eyes, trying to clear the vestiges of the madness from his mind. ‘Spock, you have to try!’ echoed through him. But McCoy had found an antidote. If he had waited, kept distant from Jilla… If Ruth Maxwell Valley had not taken it upon herself to decide the correct course of action, to persuade him… Ruth Maxwell… Ruth…
He looked at her and reason fled. Golden one…
“Ruth.”
Ruth let out a deep sigh of relief. Sentience had returned to his eyes, and she turned, trying not to blush, to get the robe that was lying over the back of his desk chair. “I’m sorry about all this, sir…” she began.
“It is not finished.” His voice was low, almost a whisper.
She stopped, not daring to look at him. She felt him take a step toward her.
“Bring her back.”
“I can’t,” she stammered. “Bones will have already given her the…”
He groaned, a sound of frustrated agony. “You must…”
She turned to him. “Mr. Spock, I’m sorry, but…”
“It is a need, a biological need!” He advanced. Ruth retreated, stumbling over the chair. “It cannot be ignored…”
“Spock… no…”
“It means my life. You are keheil, you have a duty…” His voice caught. He reached for her and she moved awkwardly away.
“You’re Vulcan,” she gasped, “Vulcans can control…”
“Ruth!” His tone was urgent and desperate, his eyes anguished fire. There was a sharp intake of breath. His fingers flexed. A growl came from deep in his chest. “En kah if farr!”
They were the words he had said to Jilla, and Ruth had a fairly good idea of what they meant. She turned, panicking, and tripped, falling backwards across the bed. Spock was instantly over her. She stared up at him, at his passionate, determined face, and inhaled, a loud, long gasp.
Jilla woke cold and stiff and hungry. She opened her eyes as she realized she was being carried. By Lieutenant Sulu. And she was naked.
“Ensign, are you all right?”
Sulu’s warm, dark eyes looked concernedly into hers. She felt a rush of heat and her heart started beating faster. Her mouth went dry, though her eyes were abruptly filled with moisture.
“Jilla?” His voice was the depth of summer sunshine. It filled her, warmed her, surrounded her with light and life, and she clung to him in rapt surrender.
“Yes, fine!” she rasped in wonder.
Sulu glanced at McCoy, who was staring at Jilla in open awe, then grinned. “I think she likes me, Doc.”
“I thought you said it would get rid of the pon farr,” Kirk said, watching Jilla snuggle contentedly to Sulu’s neck.
“I thought it would,” McCoy returned. He ran his med scanner over Jilla’s body, then frowned. “That’s strange.”
“What’s strange?” Kirk wanted to know.
“The chemical composition has been altered...”
“Why didn’t that show up in your rabbits?”
“It did, Jim,” McCoy replied. “That’s what stopped the pon farr. But since they stopped rutting like – well, like rabbits – I thought...”
“So what’s strange about it?”
“The way Mrs. Majiir’s reacting…” McCoy paused. “Maybe…”
Kirk was growing impatient. “Maybe what, Bones?”
McCoy looked up, grinning. “Maybe it’s not so strange. Ruthie and Jim-boy have always been overly affectionate. I might not have noticed the change.”
They reached Sickbay and Sulu carefully laid Jilla on a diagnostic bed. She clung to him. Smiling, he eased her away, pulling the blanket over her. She grasped his hand, holding it lovingly to her face.
“Don’t go!” she breathed.
“Shall I stay, Captain?” Sulu’s smile was blinding.
Kirk sighed. “Looks like you’d better.” He turned to McCoy. “Bones, will this wear off? I can’t allow my Chief Helmsman and Chief of Security to have an Indiian as part of his standard uniform.”
“I don’t know yet, Jim,” McCoy answered. “I have to run more tests. Now if you’ll come over here, I have something to put on those scratches.”
Kirk shook his head as McCoy tended to his wounds, and Jilla and Sulu carried on a silent but extremely distracting conversation.
Kirk sat on the Bridge, waiting for Spock to report. He’d given him half an hour, time to meditate and get back to normal. He couldn’t afford more. He wanted his ship together and functioning.
Fifteen minutes ticked by. Fifteen more. Then another fifteen. Kirk took out his communicator. “Spock.” No answer. Damn it. “Spock!”
“Yes, Captain?” The voice was cool, strong. Thank god!
“We’ve has some serious trouble here. The diagnostic you set to run has been…”
“I have been briefed on the situation, Captain, and I am on my way to the computer core now. Spock out.”
Kirk sighed and looked around. You’ll be perfect in no time, he said silently to his ship, then paused. Had there been a trace of amusement in Spock’s voice?
The terminal in the computer core was set to be the last one to go inactive if anything went wrong with the main system. Spock stood by the desk, gazing impassively at the list of active processes. Ruth was behind him, looking over his shoulder, her normal, exuberant manner much subdued.
“I mostly debugged it for you,” she offered.
He nodded, but said nothing.
“The problem,” she went on, “was that the diagnostic was also monitoring — see, it keeps statistics on all active... Well, you know that, you wrote it. But since it's active itself, it started collecting statistics on its own functions. And then it collected stats on those stats. And so on. It would have eventually required infinite memory.”
Spock frowned. “An obvious flaw. I should have foreseen it.”
“Well, you were, uhm, preoccupied.” She hurried on. “We can fix that after we get the thing to turn off. You were really good with the security lockouts and tamper-proofing,” she tried. “And the automatic restart works, well, automatically.” Spock had fallen silent again. “I tried your security codes and clearances, all the high-level overrides, even the basic process termination protocols...”
Spock raised an eyebrow. “You circumvented system security to obtain my section credentials?”
Ruth didn’t know whether to be defensive or proud. She decided on the latter. “I’m good," she said, and gave him a brilliant smile. His other eyebrow rose, and she flushed. "Anyway," she went on, "absolutely nothing works. I even asked the computer how to shut the diagnostic down. It wouldn’t tell me.”
“Of course not,” Spock replied, his face resuming its non-expression. “If it did, the lockouts would be pointless.”
“Then there’s no way to stop it?”
The eyebrow rose again. “One cannot allow an unterruptable background process, Miss Valley. There are always back doors. But for a security protocol to be truly effective, it cannot be embedded in any obvious place. And the most effective measures are often the most simple, hidden in plain sight, as it were.”
“You mean—”
“There is a simple password, but to prevent it being discovered, the program was written to avoid acknowledging its existence.”
“And that’s all there is to it?” Ruth demanded indignantly.
“Why should there be anything more? The lockouts were intended merely to insure accurate data collection, not to protect it as if it were an essential process. It is only a diagnostic program.”
Might your obsession with security be an outgrowth of your overdeveloped sense of privacy, Boss? Ruth thought, but she said nothing.
Look who's talking.
Shut up.
Spock shifted his attention back to the terminal. “Computer,” he said. “Terminate diagnostic program twelve seven alpha. Password: ‘Amanda’.”
“Acknowledged,” the computer responded.
He turned smoothly to face Ruth again. “I will, of course, change the password,” he said.
"Of course," Ruth repeated sourly.
Jilla lay on the diagnostic bed. McCoy had run a series of tests on a fresh blood sample and was manually working the medical equipment for the results. Sulu had returned to duty, and with his departure, she found herself full of longing, but able, at last, to think rationally. She tried not to let the memories of the past several days fill her with despair. She was damned, locked away from Selar, her people, her Goddess, for all eternity. Yet, somehow, she could not bring herself to wish for the death she so richly deserved. Perhaps, if she were allowed to return to some semblance of normalcy, these inexplicable reactions would leave her, and she could face Aema as she should. “Doctor, further testing is unnecessary,” she said softly. “I assure you, I am quite recovered.”
“Then how come you go starry-eyed whenever Lieutenant Sulu comes within ten feet of you?’ McCoy asked over his shoulder as he studied his statboard.
Jilla’s thoughts became more troubled. McCoy stated a truth she could not deny, but did not understand. Dual sensations warred within her. The breaking of her vows was the horror she had been brought up to believe it would be all her life – and yet it faded when she looked at Sulu. It was still painful but… somehow, in Sulu’s presence, it became a dull ache, not a soul-killing agony. Her blood sang within her, exclaiming joyously that Sulu was light, life, reason. She was aware that her love for Selar still burned within her, but when she was near Sulu… How can Selar fade from me? The bond, the seal, the vow, forever…what has happened to me, Aema, sumin tu, how can this be so? I think of Sulu and he is all, despite my vows, despite The Time, Spock, Selar…
Her thoughts were interrupted as McCoy came over to the bed. “I can’t find any reason for it,” McCoy stated. “All I can figure is that your Indiian chemistry responds to the antidote like it was a love spell or aphrodisiac.” He shrugged. “I’m sorry, Mrs. Majiir, but there isn’t anything I can do about it. With luck, it will wear off as the enzymic cycle dissipates in its natural course.”
Jilla sat up. "Then I am free to return to duty, Doctor?"
“I’d like to keep you here for observation for a few more hours. Make sure the – Time – doesn’t return.”
“Very well,” Jilla replied, then heard herself asking, in spite of herself, “Will Mr. Sulu be returning soon?”
She flushed at McCoy’s grin. “Well, little lady, I don’t know,” he said. “Maybe in a few hours after the ship’s been put back together.”
She nodded, carefully keeping the disappointed sigh – and the disturbing reality behind it – to herself.
“Mrs. Majiir?”
Jilla woke at the soft voice, unaware that she had fallen asleep. She sat up immediately, feeling the flush coming to her face. Spock stood next to the Sickbay bed, gazing steadily at her. She lowered her eyes. “Yes, Commander?” she replied.
“I… believe there is something… I must enquire…” His discomfort made her tingle with uneasiness, but she knew what he was trying to ask.
“Dr. McCoy assures me there will be no issue from our – mating,” she said, nearly choking on the words.
“That is fortunate for your career,” Spock returned. “Yet that fact does not change…” He paused, taking a deep breath. “We should speak of marriage,” he said at last.
She blinked. “Impossible,” was all she could manage.
“We are – mated.”
“I am wed.”
“It is to me you are…”
“Spock.” Her soft recitation of his name made him flinch slightly. It was her turn to take a deep breath. “We have a bond. It would be illogical to deny it. But I cannot, I will not marry you.”
“Selar is dead,” he stated bluntly.
“He is still my husband.”
He seemed to bristle at that. “By Vulcan law, by Vulcan custom, that title belongs to me.”
“I will not honor it.”
Spock turned from her, his head bent. “Jilla,” he said with some difficulty, “I cannot ignore – what we have shared. My duty is to…”
“I wed Selar out of love, Spock,” Jilla broke in quietly. “He wed me from the same emotion. Should you not have that same freedom? Whatever betrothal you may have had has been broken by our joining. I will not bind you to another duty match when there is one your heart yearns for.”
Spock quickly turned to face her. “One my heart…?” he began.
“You called to the golden one, Spock,” Jilla murmured. “Can a sensitive not feel, even in The Time?” She held his gaze until the softness in his eyes told her he relented.
“It may be difficult,” he said. “The crew…”
“Does not understand. They do not need to. We do, and that is all that matters, is it not?”
A small smile touched his eyes. “Rilain, you are wise beyond your years,” he said.
Jilla smiled softly at the endearment: little one. “As kindred, Spock?”
He nodded. “As kindred, Jilla.”
“Captain, we have a report on – whatever that thing was,” Uhura said as Kirk came onto the Bridge.
“Whatever it was, Miss Uhura?” he asked, thinking that a report on it should include ‘whatever it was.’
“Yes, sir. It passed through the rest of this sector of the quadrant without attracting any other ship or initiating any kind of communication with anyone. No one was able to identify it, and it didn’t respond to any hail. It didn’t scan anyone else, either. Apparently it got all the information it needed from us.” She shrugged. “It’s gone beyond the boundaries of our exploratory area.”
Got all it needed from us, huh? Kirk mused. And perhaps from the fact that we encountered Silmarils before? Was it a warning to stay away, or an invitation to follow? The Silmaril ship couldn’t travel at those speeds – or could it? The whole ‘take pity on us we can’t move that fast’ could very well have been an act, a ploy to get our attention, or a way to divert us from examining their true capabilities. Or, and the thought made him shudder, perhaps we’ve just run across whatever is threatening them. And with luck, they’ve seen that we’re no more than ants. And let's just hope they’re not mean little kids with a magnifying glass. Kirk shook his head as he took the con. “I guess we’ll never know, then,” he said. “With all the disruption it caused here it would’ve been nice to at least be able to call it something other than ‘whatever it was.’ Thank you, Lieutenant.”
Uhura smiled at him, and he relaxed, noting with approval the nearly empty Bridge. After two days of technicians crawling all over it, it was good to see only one person at each station – except for Communications. Ruth Valley stood there talking to Uhura, telling a story that was obviously an uncomfortable one. Uhura kept interrupting her with intrigued comments and Kirk couldn’t help but listen.
“He made a grand play, ‘you’re keheil’…”
“Chased you all over the cabin?” Uhura giggled.
Ruth scowled. “It wasn’t funny. I was scared…”
“That’s not what I would’ve been.”
“Bets? Anyway, he kept coming at me, and I tripped. Wham! Right over the bed…”
“Oh god!” Uhura gasped.
“… and he leaned over me and…”
The turbolift door opened and Spock walked onto the Bridge, Ensign Majiir right behind him. The crew quickly looked away and there were several chuckles. The Vulcan and the Indiian exchanged unperturbed glances. Jilla walked to the Engineering station and Kirk noted that she flashed Sulu a shy smile in doing so. Spock walked past Uhura and Ruth.
“Mornin’ Mr. Spock, sugar,” Uhura murmured.
He glanced sharply at her and Ruth said, “And he said ‘Ensign Valley, the next time you have an urge to interfere in my life – don’t!’” She glared at him.
Uhura burst into gales of laughter. Spock’s eyebrow rose smugly.
“Warp factor one, Mr. Sulu,” Kirk said. “Let’s get back to starcharting.”
Sulu sat in the mess hall, glumly not drinking his cup of coffee. Ramon Ordona and Monique DuBois were arguing about the nature of the relationship they were trying to form. Dr. M’Benga was tallying up his winnings from the poker game the night before. Ruth Valley was studying him under the guise of being absorbed in her own cup. And Sulu didn’t care about any of it. His mind was three mess hall tables away, trying to figure out the occupant; one Ensign Jilla Majiir. It had been two weeks since he’d carried her to Sickbay. Two weeks since she’d clutched to him in breathless ardor. And one week since her longing glances and helpless affection had turned to discomfort and pained embarrassment and silence. Just four days earlier, he’d said an innocent, “Morning, Jilla,” to which she’d responded coolly, “Mrs. Majiir, if you please, Mr. Sulu.” Then she’d stopped talking to him altogether. And he couldn’t for the life of him figure out what he’d done.
Of course, he mused miserably, I haven’t yet figured why she got so affectionate in the first place. Or rather, the second place. She did throw a plate of food at you before she got so friendly.
“Roy?” Ruth’s voice broke into his thoughts.
“Yeah, what?” he answered distractedly.
“She is married.”
He turned to her in annoyance. “I know that.”
“Well, that’s why,” Ruth explained.
“So what about a week ago?” Sulu demanded.
“It’s – complicated.”
“You don’t make a lot of sense, Spike.”
“Neither do you. She’s married.”
Sulu began a retort, then caught the flashing concern in Ruth’s eyes. “Are you telling me to lay off?” he asked.
“Look, all I can say is she’d be serious,” Ruth replied. “And she’s easily hurt. And very vulnerable. And – “
“And what if I'm serious, Spike?” The words leapt out of Sulu’s mouth, and he wondered where they came from. Then he wondered if they were the truth. And if they were…
Ruth blinked, then slowly smiled. “Then,” she said, “I say go get her.”
Jilla waited until Ruth had left Sulu’s table before hesitantly approaching the helmsman. She’d felt his puzzled anger and resentment, and it cut her. She had to explain, for his sake. Her pulse quickened, but she forced herself to stay calm.
“Mr. Sulu,” she said quietly.
Sulu looked up, his features surprised. “You talking to me again?” he said.
Jilla’s head bent. “Forgive me. I – must… I wish to explain my behavior these past several days.”
“That I understand,” he replied. “It’s the week before I don’t.”
“Please, if you will allow me…” She took a deep breath, but was again interrupted before she could speak. Sulu abruptly stood.
“Forgive me, Mrs. Majiir,” he said, offering a chair. “Please, sit.”
She took the seat, her cheeks taking on a faint glow. “Thank you, Mr. Sulu.”
“Forgot my manners,” he mumbled, and sat back down. “Go on.”
Jilla stared at the table. “I want – you must understand what has happened within me. My husband…”
“I know,” Sulu again broke in. “Genetic alteration. The Captain told me. And – ” he paused. “Vulcan drives.”
She flushed again. “Then you understand about – Dr. McCoy’s – alteration of that… condition?”
Sulu looked puzzled. “Not exactly,” he answered.
Jilla shuddered. “What Dr. McCoy did – the serum he injected – “ She took a steadying breath. “It appears to have changed the nature of the electrochemical receivers of the enzyme which causes – The Time. He believes it – affected my tia - my sensitivity, so that I became – emotional – toward the first person - the first emotion I sensed, and…” She looked up into his suddenly understanding eyes. “I am sorry, Mr. Sulu.”
His gaze searched hers. “First emotion? Me?”
“I am afraid so. The - sensation – was extremely… intense.”
“And now it’s worn off.” Sulu nodded. “Well, that explains that.” He rose. “Thank you for telling me. I can imagine how difficult this is for…”
“No, it has not,” Jilla interrupted quietly.
Sulu sat back down. “What?” he asked. Jilla shivered at the hopefulness in his tia.
“Despite what I feel,” she said, “what I am helpless before, I am married.” She closed her eyes, swallowing. “I have acted oddly, I know. Given my behavior while in The Time – you see, the difference now is not that it has ‘worn off’; simply that I am no longer in the throes of…” Her fingers clenched together. “I have confused you. I have no wish to cause you discomfort. Had I been able control myself…” She paused. “You must understand, Mr. Sulu. What I feel cannot be. I cannot stop it, but I cannot allow it. I must keep myself from the desires which pull at me. My vows are sacred to me, though they are defiled. I am helpless before my damnation, I accept it as Aema’s wrath. My life will be a short one, and I wish with all my being that it had been several weeks shorter. But I go on, and so go on I must.” She looked up, into the eyes that filled her dreams. “Forgive me. I expect nothing from you. I cannot allow the contact which I was helpless to stop while in The Time.”
He was studying her face. “But you want to,” he said softly.
She glowed. “No matter. I cannot.”
“You don’t deny it.”
Her tone was miserable. “No. That, also, I cannot do.”
“If you accept your damnation...”
“I do!”
“…why can’t you allow the contact? What’s done is done, yes?”
She looked away. “I…” she stammered. “Mr. Sulu, there is… I…”
He touched her hand. “Why, Jilla?” he asked, his voice as gentle and as welcome as a cool breeze on a hot day. It called to her and tears started in her eyes. She rose, turning away.
“You deserved an explanation,” she rasped.
He grasped her hand. “You don’t have an answer, do you?” he said. She pulled away. “Do you?” he repeated and the tone of command pulled at her, begging her to acquiesce, to obey. “Is there one?” he demanded.
She fled from the room, from temptation, from the emotion that poured from him – and from her soul.
Return to Part Four
To go to the next story in chronological sequence, click here