Damn it, what happened?
Uhura paced her quarters and raged at herself in frustration. I was patient, too patient. The chance was there, and I waited. There was something I could have used and instead of grabbing it, I waited to see how it would develop. Fool! Idiot! She took a deep breath, trying to assess exactly where she had gone wrong, and why. She could have taken on Sulu. She had had the tools. Rand had been so scared she would have done anything to save herself. McCoy’s outrage had been at the boiling point. Kirk and Spock had been splitting apart. And she had let it pass her by. She had misjudged the timing. It was over now, and she was still only Lieutenant Uhura, communications officer, when she could have been Chief of Security.
Still, when she thought about it, she hadn’t done anything wrong. What had happened with Caros couldn’t’ve been predicted by anyone. There had been every reason to think there was time. What was it the triumvirate had on each other? What kept them working together? Why did the assignment to Caros make them so nervous, and why did they settle it in such a complicated way?
And why didn’t I get Sulu killed when I could have?
Not that it mattered now. Rand was useless, at least temporarily. Sulu’s woman had been so pleased with herself, and with Uhura’s wonderful advice. “You were right,” she’d said. “He really was just angry with me. Everything’s fine now, and I have you to thank for keeping me from doing something rash.” Stupid bitch. I hope he makes it a slow, lingering, painful death. I sure as hell would.
McCoy had cooled down enough to be cautious again. He hadn’t had any dealings with Sulu for nearly a week, and with Leonard, Uhura knew, out of sight meant out of mind. The booty from Caros was enough to silence any discontent in the crew as well. Not as much as it would have been if the Enterprise had taken the mines, but it was enough. And no one had to risk their skins to get it.
But why had no one had to risk their skins? What was going on? Uhura would give her entire share of Caros tribute to know the answer to that.
She stopped pacing abruptly and sat down on her bed. There was something going on, and she couldn’t possibly be the only one who had noticed. Perhaps the crew was no longer exactly discontent, but there must be many of them who were puzzled. Could she play on that, get people to wonder - get the Imperium to wonder? If she could do that, start people thinking that just maybe the governor of Caros wasn’t the only person in power who wasn’t acting in Imperial interests... Mutiny? Not exactly. But if the crew was loyal to her, and she was loyal to the Empire... Her gender would be tolerated then, just as O’Niall’s was.
This was risky, far riskier than her planned rise to command. But could it hurt to have a second plot in the works? She needn’t abandon her original plan, but what harm would it do to play on the fears and suspicions of those around her? Get people to notice the odd behavior of the senior crew. Get people worried about whether or not there’s anything to notice.
She got up, crossing to her cabinet. She took out a bottle and poured herself a small glass of Saurian brandy. She lifted it and studied the emerald liquid for a moment. She had made one mistake by being too patient, but only one. And there was a way to use even that. She would start over and stay patient.
“Time,” she said aloud, toasting herself. “Patience. Here’s to me.”
DelMonde lay on his back, his arm resting easily around LiLing’s naked shoulder. Her eyes were closed, her face set in carefully practiced contentment. Her long, silky hair tickled him, but not enough to really bother him. Perhaps, if he thought about it...
He smiled into the darkness of the room, a half wistful, half ironic smile. The only thoughts he had about LiLing didn’t concern her at all, not even the pleasure she’d just given him. LiLing herself was just another beautiful girl. What was important was that she was from Terra, with some intelligence. He didn’t think, though, that intelligence had been the reason she had been sent to him. Her influence was what mattered to Terra. She was a younger, more sensual, more brazen version of Jade. Of course, he had no intention of replacing his wife, the mother of his heir. But that’s what Li’s Terran masters had sent her to find out. Could LiLing be the new Donna, could she lead the Don of Rigel around by his hormones? Was DelMonde the soft, easily manipulated puppet the Empire wanted on Rigel’s throne? Could he be ruled by the wishes of a clever concubine - who would be ruled by the wishes of the Empire?
“Not bloody likely,” he murmured softly, under his breath.
“Hmm?” LiLing asked, turning sleepily in his arms.
“Nothing, Li,” he replied, then remembered Jerel’s words concerning Jade. The girl did need to be taken down a bit. And he had to talk to Jade anyway. He stretched, then pushed LiLing aside, half-rolling to the edge of the bed, sitting up. He reached for his robe, and felt, as expected, LiLing’s arms come around his waist.
“Del, don’t go,” she whispered.
He smiled, and gently pushed her away. “Save it, Li. I’ve got important things to take care of tonight.” His voice was softly amused, the tone patronizing, and he put just a touch of emphasis on the ‘important.’ She reacted as he expected, drawing up haughtily, her black eyes going cold and imperious.
“Important?” she questioned. “And I’m not?”
Del laughed, as though she had meant to be amusing. “Of course you are, Li.” It was a casual answer, brushing off any significance. “But I’ve got to go now.”
His words made her angrier. “To your wife?” she sneered sweetly.
He let his face become annoyed. “Yes, to my wife. You have objections?”
“A few!”
The annoyance was carefully altered to cold anger. “That’s a shame, Li. I did enjoy your company. So will Jerel, I’m sure.”
“What!” she burst out, fury and fear and insult. “Jerel? Courtland? Your Equian? I will not...”
Del casually slapped her, stopping the tirade. “You’ll do what I tell you. You do happen to belong to me. If I want to give you away, I will, to whoever I want. Your games are usually flattering, and a pleasant diversion, but I’m in no mood to cater to you. I told you, I’ve got important things to do.” He got up, crossing the room, turning at the door. “Now be a good girl and I’ll buy you the dress you wanted.” The door closed on her frustrated shriek.
The chuckle was brief as Del weighed the effectiveness of his actions. Li would change her tactics, but it would only be a temporary respite for Jade. But once she understood why her husband was apparently being taken in by his newest toy, she’d be much better able to cope. He smiled warmly at the thought of his wife as he padded silently through the palazzo to her apartments. Jade. Former spoiled and pampered princess. Not exactly a loving wife, but someone he could trust and depend on. Respect was something he required, and he had taught it to Jade. Respect for him, respect for herself. Respect for what was between them, which meant they had to always be honest with each other. These were the qualities he thought necessary in a good mother. And Jade had proven to be just that. Geoffrey wasn’t being raised to occupy a Don’s throne the way he had been. Geoffrey’s mother loved him. He would know from the beginning that love wasn’t a weakness.
She wasn’t expecting him, so Del knocked. Her voice didn’t sound sleepy when she answered, asking who it was.
“Your husband, Jade,” he replied. The door opened almost immediately, and Jade’s attendant smiled shyly at him as she slipped past him. He stepped through the door.
Jade was in bed, sitting, a reader beside her. Her black hair was loosely pulled back, away from her regal, serene, yet undeniably alluring features. Her eyes were a warm, intelligent jet that were, at the moment, sparkling with just a hint of suggestion. Her slender figure was wrapped in a silk robe of TerAsian design in shades of green and gold. She smiled, and it was a touch cold, a touch Imperial.
“Did LiLing disappoint you, Don?” she asked evenly.
“She never disappoints me, Donna,” Del replied. “But then, I don’t expect much of her.” He smiled, and Jade sighed self-consciously and held out her arms.
“Sorry, Del. I don’t like your latest, or her presumptions.”
“Me neither, at least the latter.” He went to her. “But I’ve got a reason for putting up with it.”
Jade pulled him down onto the bed, settling him in her arms, stroking his head. “You could’ve told me before I got upset, couldn’t you?”
“I didn’t think you’d be bothered. You know there’s only one Donna.”
“At a time,” Jade finished wryly.
Del sat up, taking her shoulders. “Jade, you’re Geoffrey’s mother. He is my legal, named heir. Nothing changes that. Ever.”
Jade smiled. “That’s what I wanted to hear. Now, what about LiLing?”
Del settled back, comfortable with his head on Jade’s shoulder. “She’s an Imperial spy,” he said.
Jade was silent for a moment, then grimaced. “Of course. Why didn’t I see it?”
“You were blinded by a jealous haze,” Del answered jauntily.
“Yes,” Jade agreed easily. “You will continue to play her then?”
“Yes. But I wanted you to know that’s what it is. And its importance.”
“I do, Del. I was just worried that you felt a need to play mentor again.”
Del’s laughter was easy and genuine. “LiLing doesn’t have the capacity. And she’s not worth the effort even if she did. I only need one wife.”
“Me?” The question was both acknowledgment and plea, and Del gently kissed her.
“You,” he said softly. They exchanged several silent minutes of respect and friendship and a mutual caring.
“Thank you,” Jade said.
“Thank you,” Del replied. “Can I stay?”
“I was going to ask you to.” She slipped off her robe, and smiled teasingly. “Don.”
Del reached up, hitting a control to dim the lights. Jade’s fingers pulled at his robe and he returned her smile and whispered, “Donna.”
Ruth moved restlessly around her quarters, searching, touching things almost blindly. A part of her mind chastised her for this sick reaction, another part for the futility of attempting to make things real all by herself. It had been a week since she’d seen Sulu. Spock had spent some time with her, asking questions that she thought she had answered properly. But the Vulcan disoriented her. She found she could be the good pet Sulu wanted her to be much more easily with Kirk. His games were so clear-cut that they lent themselves to reality in a way Spock’s intensity did not. But when she was alone... Her memory was beginning to play tricks on her, phantom voices echoed in her head, and reality became more and more precarious.
I need Sulu.
He isn’t here, is he?
Jilla sat on the bed, waiting. The Indiian had been getting more and more lifeless. When Kirk or Spock called for her, she would respond, and they seemed as pleased with Jilla as they were with her. But on duty, and here, in their cabin, it was almost as if Jilla was fading. Ruth wanted to do something to help, but she knew there was only one thing that would ever help Jilla again. And only one thing that would make her reality solid.
Why doesn’t he come?
She knew she couldn’t go to him. He had given a specific order about that. But she didn’t know how much longer she could manage before her surroundings ceased to have any reality at all.
She walked over to the bed, trying, as she did every day, to engage Jilla in conversation. It wasn’t Sulu, but maybe if they simply talked about him...
“Jilla,” she began plaintively.
The Indiian looked toward her, but refused to look her in the face.
“When do you think he’ll come for us?” Ruth continued.
“Never,” was the dull reply.
Ruth swallowed panic. “He has to, doesn’t he? He can’t leave us like this.”
“He can.”
“Not if he expects us to be good. It gets harder and harder...” Jilla didn’t even sob, and Ruth shuddered at the emptiness. “What if it gets so bad that... what if we can’t feel anything with Kirk or Spock? What will we do if...”
“I don’t know,” Jilla said. There was no inflection in her voice. “Why do you ask me? How can I know? Do I know how to feel?”
“You’re Indiian!” Ruth nearly wailed.
“No. I’m Sulu’s.” Ruth sobbed, reaching to pull Jilla into her arms, but Jilla evaded her. The Indiian rose and walked toward the cabin door.
“Jilla, where...” Ruth began.
“I have to go,” she said..
“Jilla...!”
The door closed behind her, and Ruth stared at it, fighting the panic that threatened her. She rubbed her arms, telling herself that she was real, that it was all real, but the words seemed lame and desolate. It is real, she told herself. It has to be.
He could tell me.
He’s not here!
Goddess, Sulu... you bastard!
Why won’t the answer come?
Ruth got up again and began pacing. She had to find a way to get to him, he had to answer her, to make it real. But she couldn’t go to him, he had said she wasn’t allowed to go to him.
Unless...
“You’re not to come here without orders.”
Orders. Permission. If she was ordered to report to him, if she got permission, she could go to him and he’d make it real. Who would order her to him? Kirk. If she pleased him, if she was really good - no. He would never give me what I wanted. It has to be a game. She thought desperately. So I’ll make it a game. I’ll make him angry, I’ll disobey him, and he’ll send me to Sulu for discipline. I’ll have orders and Sulu will punish me, but it will be real!
She shuddered and almost started crying with relief. There was a way! She only had to endure a little while of gaming with Kirk, and then... She quickly changed to one of her silk gowns, then started for the Captain’s quarters.
The dark cocoon was wrapping tighter. Jilla had been fighting it for what seemed like forever, but it was close now, too close. She could feel the emptiness, like dull icicles forming inside her, bars to lock her into terrible nothingness. She was going to stop, to just stop - being, thinking, living. He had told her to be good, to be pleasing, but she was dying, falling, and she could no longer obey him. He would make her cold and dark and empty if she didn’t obey him. She had to get to him, had to see him, touch him, so she could obey him.
The sobs caught in her throat, unable to find release because she was empty. She moved along the corridors, into the turbolift, managing only to whisper out his name. She waited, another eternity, until it opened on Deck Five. Her vision was edged with a dark, hopeless void that crept ever closer. Then she saw Paget, and her mind fixed on him, something to cling to, a promise of Sulu.
“Lieutenant Paget?”
Paget looked up at the hoarse whisper. Costain, near-trembling, a pale ghost with eyes darkened and dull. She was fear and need and hopeless desolation personified. He thought of Jaris and mentally shook his head. Another one gone, Boss? And she was so pretty... “What is it, Miss Costain?” he asked.
“Please, if you would... tell him - ask him if I... I need to...” The trembling got worse as the girl spoke. Her eyes closed briefly with a wave of panic, then reopened as wells of pleading despair. Paget felt a twinge of sympathy, mixed with a grudging admiration for his Chief’s peculiar talent, and it made his voice gentle.
“He’s not in, Miss Costain.”
The sob caught in the girl’s throat, and he thought for a moment that she was going to collapse. She was really bad off. Surely Sulu knew... A smile came slowly to Paget’s lips. Of course he did. That was precisely why he’d left to engage in some rare, off-duty recreation with Rand, instructing his personal guard to stay outside his empty quarters. He knew Costain would be coming, knew Paget was the only one with the authority and guts to let the girl in to wait for him. And he knew Paget would figure it out. Okay, Boss. I still don’t know your game, but I’m in. He spoke again. “I could let you in to wait for him, but...”
The girl lifted her eyes to his. “Please,” she whispered, her voice softly begging.
He nodded, taking the girl’s arm, escorting her out of the corridor and into Sulu’s quarters. Once inside, she fell to the floor, weeping gratefully. He shook his head in fear and pity. There, but for the grace of the gods, he thought, and the only one who counts just happens to be named Sulu. Then went silently back to his post.
Marlena revolved the dresser in her quarters and reached up to remove the pins from her hair. She caught Jim’s smile reflected in the mirror, and smiled back. He was going over the latest report from the Intrepid. He’d been thoughtful, yet not brooding, ever since Caros had been resolved. It was a wonderful change, and it gave her new hope. The only real worry she had left was Sulu, and Spock was quietly observing him.
Her thoughts were interrupted by the sound of the door’s intercom and Farrell’s voice.
“Captain, sir.”
She glanced over just as Kirk looked up. “What is it?” he said.
“Did you send for Miss Valley?”
Kirk shot her a quick glance. “No, Farrell, I didn’t.”
“She’s here, sir. She wants to see you.” Farrell was obviously uncomfortable, and Marlena automatically understood why.
“Send her in, Farrell,” she ordered, her tone of voice seemingly angry and vindictive. Kirk grinned at her.
“Yes, ma’am,” Farrell said, and the door opened. Valley was pushed into the room, the door closing behind her. Marlena watched as Kirk put aside the report. Valley beamed sensual longing and need at him.
“Marlena...” Kirk began.
“Never mind, it’s all right. I’m leaving,” she said, almost ashamed of the thoroughness of the job Sulu had done. “You can take your time. I’ll be in Chemistry when you want me.”
Kirk again smiled at her. “Thank you, dear.”
She smiled back, hiding a grimace. “No need. I know.” She glanced at Ruth. The girl apparently hadn’t noticed anything but Kirk. Was it innocence, indifference, or Sulu’s training that left her oblivious to the implications of her actions? Captain’s women didn’t normally vacate their quarters on the whim of a rival. But then, Marlena doubted if she even knew there had been anyone but Jim in the room. She found herself wondering what it had been like where Valley was from.
Who were you, Antari? If there were only some way I could know what you were, if that’s really what I want to be. What was it like, your Federation? Are all your men like he was? Is compassion and love common, or was it just him? Spock wants your freedom, Jim wants your bodies, Sulu has your worship. I want your truth. And you don’t want anything anymore and there’s nothing we could give you to replace what we’ve taken. Ruined innocence. Guilt, Marlena? It’s the price of learning compassion, I’m afraid. Everything has its price.
She left the room, wondering if she could find time to spend with Spock. She could use a strong dose of logic.
Kirk smiled at the Antari, relaxing back on the bed. He wasn’t sure what it was she wanted. He wasn’t fool enough to suppose it was him, and he knew Sulu wouldn’t’ve ordered her to come. Not when I would think of it, at any rate, he added with grim amusement. “What can I do for you, Ruth?” he asked, his voice reflecting the amusement. She had been staring at the floor, and now she raised her head, her violet eyes gleaming suggestively with the answer.
“I was lonely, Jim,” she whispered.
“I wasn’t planning on seeing you this evening,” he told her, mildly reproving.
She dropped her eyes, rebuked, then said, “Can I change your plans?”
“A man should always be open to persuasion, dear,” Kirk grinned. She looked up again, smiling, and moved gracefully across the floor to him. Her fingers effortlessly pulled the straps of her emerald gown from her shoulders, letting it fall around her ankles in a soft rustle of silk. Kirk’s smile widened. Gods, she is beautiful, still. Her beauty didn’t fade or grow common, even after all the time he’d spend looking at her. It always struck him with a kind of awe. He started to move over, then realized he still had the Intrepid’s report to finish. Business before pleasure, particularly since I have to rely on the Intrepid to gauge DelMonde’s reaction to Caros, and his reaction to Caros could well signal his reaction to a potential alliance. And dear Ruth is so eager, it won’t hurt to keep her waiting a few minutes. He beckoned her to him, kissing her when she slipped delightedly into his arms, then carefully put her aside. “I’ve got some work to do, Ruth,” he said. She moaned, a little despairingly, and he chuckled. “Just a little dear,” he went on, “and you can stay right here and wait till I’m done, all right?”
“No,” she pouted, and squirmed back into his arms. “It can wait. Please?”
“No, Ruth. You wait.”
“Jim!” she pleaded impatiently.
“My way, dear, or not at all,” he said, his tone a pleasant threat. She stifled a gasp and withdrew suddenly.
He had trouble concentrating on the report. His mind was enjoying Ruth’s petulant attitude too much. She seemed unable to keep still, sighing and quietly whimpering with restlessness. He kept up the appearance of stern attentiveness as long as he could, nearly half an hour. Then he stretched elaborately and put the report away. Ruth lay with her back to him, appearing not to notice. He grinned, stroking her shoulder. To his surprise, she flinched away, mumbling.
“No.”
“What?” he asked sharply.
“No!” It was half sob, half demand. He grabbed her shoulder, turning her to face him.
“What did you tell me?” he growled.
“I’m not in the mood,” she said insolently. “You waited too long and now I don’t want to.”
Kirk didn’t see the fear or the pleading behind her eyes. He felt the anger building inside him, and reminded himself that anger was stupid. She’s just a woman, and you can have any one you want. She’s not worth the aggravation of controlling the petty rage she’s provoking. He took a deep breath and moved away from her. “Okay, Ruth,” he said. “Get out.”
She seemed surprised at his reaction. “Jim, no. I wanted... I want to stay.”
He chuckled, his annoyance disappearing instantly. “I see. All right, stay, but you’d better make it good.” The threat was automatic and his tone almost bored as he said it. He hadn’t expected her to initiate any games, though she had gotten good at playing them with him. She had come to him. That might be entertaining.
He pulled her roughly to him, quite prepared to give her what she wanted. She responded perfectly, moaning and clawing at him - then beginning to fight him. She wants to play rough, does she? he thought. That’s fine with me. He held her tighter, kissing her fiercely. She suddenly sobbed and began hitting him in earnest. Her manner wasn’t at all playful and Kirk found himself getting angry again. He pulled away, furious at her willfulness but determined to keep his wits. It’s not worth it, he reminded himself, and inhaled deeply.
“No, Ruth,” he said. “I told you, my way, or not at all.”
She had frozen when he’d moved, staring at him with wild, violet confusion. Now she blinked and sat up. “All right,” she murmured. “I’m sorry. I just wanted...” Her voice faded and she held out her arms pleadingly.
Once more, Kirk thought warningly, but he let her come to him, and let her excite him. She was very sensual, enticing and challenging, obviously desperate to atone for her misguided behavior. He was prepared for a quick, violent coupling, but she kept on teasing, arousing him with skill and passion, murmuring, “not yet, let me please you.” She was catching him in her erotic beauty, making it good, maddeningly exciting. He was wanting her, he was past the point of calm, rational thought, when she suddenly pulled away. He reached for her and she slithered across the bed from him.
“What in Tartarus are you doing?” he demanded.
She knelt at the foot of the bed, smiling arrogantly. “You make it good, Jim,” she purred, “Just this once, you please me.”
He sat up slowly, his mind spinning in fiery rage. “Would you mind repeating that?” he asked with soft menace.
“Something wrong, Captain?” she mocked. “Or is it just that it’s been so long since you were required to do any work?”
The anger exploded and he lunged toward her, then saw the desolate hope that filled her. No, damnit, she’s playing you! he screamed at himself. He stopped, clenching his fists, getting the anger under control. It took several minutes, but he found a calm voice. “I don’t have time for this, Miss Valley,” he said.
She started trembling, and couldn’t meet his eyes, but she said, “Am I too much for you, Kirk?”
“You little...!” Kirk began, then stopped, smiling coldly. “Apparently you don’t remember what you’ve been taught. I think you need a refresher course.” He turned to the intercom, but the edge of his vision caught Ruth’s shuddering relief. Hold it. It’s what she wants. Damn that peacock, it’s what she wants! What was it, Sulu, did you tell her not to go to you? Is that why she wants so desperately to be punished? He turned back to Ruth. “You’re a very clever girl, Ruth, but it won’t work,” he told her. “I’m not your ticket to your god. I’m not going to send you to him.” He watched as despair and hopeless fear swirled in her eyes. “I don’t like what you tried to do,” he went on. “Get out of here, and I don’t want you going to him. Do you understand me? That’s an order, and if I’m disobeyed I'll do the punishing. Is that clear, Miss Valley?”
Ruth collapsed, sobbing, and Kirk called Farrell in to take her out of his quarters. Then he called Chemistry.
Sepak waited outside Spock’s quarters. For the past year, it seemed all he had done was wait. He wasn’t sure he liked it, but he was patient. Spock was a good man to work for. Sepak took pride in the fact that he had been more than Spock’s choice. Sarek, too, had chosen him from among his lesser sons to follow Spock into Starfleet. On Vulcan, it was an honor for a lesser son to serve the acknowledged heir as bodyguard. It was a sign of favor and trust that led to great rewards. So Sepak waited. He did not like Fleet life, or the Humans who hated and feared, and so sneered at Vulcans. What the Humans thought didn’t matter; they knew nothing of duty or loyalty. But he didn’t like their weak bodies, their weak minds, their arrogance when they had so little to be arrogant about. They boasted of their Empire, which had lasted three thousand years. His clan, Spock’s clan, the Clan of Scarn, was five thousand years old, and it was one of the newest on Vulcan. Sepak and Spock were Vulcan warriors, sons of Sarek, the son of Senel, the son of Selek. Sepak could name his ancestors for a thousand generations. Most Humans would have difficulty naming their own fathers.
Sepak controlled his expression of disgust and turned his head to glance up the corridor where Farrell was on duty in front of the Captain’s cabin. As he did so, he saw the door open and Farrell turn. A second later he was striding up the corridor, a sobbing Ensign Valley in tow. Sepak stared straight ahead as they passed him, his ironic thoughts masked by stiff, impassive features. That was awfully quick, Captain. The girl looks disappointed in you. No need to upset yourself if you cannot satisfy one such as she, Kirk. The Commander can, as easily as he does your woman.
Sudden thoughts clicked rapidly into place as Sepak remembered that Lieutenant Moreau had said, “I’m in Chemistry, Sepak,” when she had entered Spock’s quarters not half an hour ago. Which meant that was where Kirk thought she was. Which also meant it was where he would be looking for her now that Valley was gone. The Commander wasn’t fool enough to be engaged with Moreau while Kirk was on board, but the situation could be viewed as compromising. He made a quick decision and signaled the cabin behind him.
Spock had not understood Marlena’s sudden need for reassurance, and had been finding it difficult not to tell her so. He could not sympathize with her personal concern for Valley and Costain. Still, she was clearly distressed, so he did his best to soothe the worry, going so far as to allow physical contact between them, despite the fact that Kirk was in the next cabin. “We are doing what must be done for our safety and success, Marlena,” he told her. “Yes, we use, we destroy, for this is our universe. Yet we do so only when we must, you know that.”
“Are they destroyed?” she asked. “Sulu took them apart, can’t he put them back together?”
“To what purpose? He assures us that they are useful and that he can control them. Perhaps later, when we are securely in power, we will have time enough for compassion.”
“We use every weapon we can, no matter the price, I know,” she sighed. “But it’s so sad...”
“We are only doing what we must.”
“And what about me?” Marlena asked, her brown eyes pleading. “I want to be what they were. Will I be used and...”
Spock sighed with almost amused understanding and pulled her into his arms. “No, Marlena, you have no need to fear such an end for yourself. You are more to me than a tool. Surely you know that.” She was clinging to him and she looked up, her eyes soft and moist and questioning. Spock realized that he had not been tender with her since Kirk’s rape during Caros. It was rape, even if she invited it, he repeated to himself sternly. He bent his head, kissing her and she returned it with enough passion to make him understand the true source of her insecurity. Sulu had apparently abandoned Costain and Valley, and she feared abandonment herself. It was foolish, but Spock had long comprehended that Human women were sometimes foolish, even Marlena. Her body was as delightfully cool against him as always, and he was very close to forgetting himself, when Sepak signaled from the corridor.
“You’re in Chemistry, ma’am,” was all he said, and all he needed to say. Marlena pulled away, whispering “thank you,” and quickly left.
Spock shook his head, clearing it of the odd workings of Marlena’s conscience. He returned to what he had been working on before Marlena’s appearance; a very intensive profile of Commander Takeda Sulu no Jiro.
Hours hung in empty silence, their passage having no meaning. Jilla lay huddled on the floor of Sulu’s cabin, quiet, still, existing less and less. She was no longer able to think of how disobedient she was being, no longer able to fear punishment. She was no longer able even to need. She had tried to find some being in his possessions; his weapons, his sculptures, trying to sense him in the sharpness of metal or the fierce divinity of the carved features. But it only worked for a moment, then grey numbness settled on her once more until she could no longer try. She was frozen in her dark prison, hopeless, desolate. If Sulu didn’t come, she would die here, and she couldn’t even fear it anymore.
Her ears heard the hiss of the door, her eyes registered the flood of light, but nothing penetrated.
“You have a guest, Boss.” Paget’s voice, and nothing.
“Why didn’t you get rid of him?” Rand. Still nothing.
“Not ‘him,’ ma’am.” Paget again and Jilla stopped listening.
“Ruth or Jilla, Jer?”
It was Sulu’s voice, and being flashed into her with joy and fear. “Sulu!” she cried. It was involuntary, and she gasped, stifling it. Paget’s voice was grinning.
“Miss Costain.”
“Obviously. As you were, Jer.” Sweet being and light and life thundered into Jilla’s body and she found herself crawling toward her god.
Sulu stepped into the room with Rand right behind him. Rand’s face was twisted into an arrogant, angry mask of indignity. The sob of helpless relief caught in Jilla’s throat as she stopped, staring up at Sulu. His face was cold, stern, terribly disapproving. She felt the emptiness racing back to her. Then she saw his eyes. Deep, sensual, hungry pools of ebony delight shone down on her, giving her sense and existence.
“You were told not to come here, Jilla,” he said. The tone was as unyielding as his features, but she felt nothing but joy from him. She lowered her eyes, hiding her smile.
“Get her out of here,” Rand suggested dryly.
Sulu turned and his voice became menacingly soft. “You weren’t asked, Janice.” Rand swallowed and took a step back. Jilla watched as he glanced back at her. “You disobeyed me, little one.”
Jilla nodded her head, shuddering with the being he sent to her.
“You know?” he went on. “Why?”
“I need you to make me whole,” she whispered.
“But I told you not to come to me, didn’t I?” he broke in.
“I had to,” she replied. Simply. Softly.
He took a step toward her and the door hissed open again. He turned, a smile beginning on his lips.
“You’re popular tonight, Boss,” Paget said. His hand was on Ruth’s arm.