Ruth couldn’t force her eyes to meet Sulu’s. She knew the instant she did, it would all be real, and she would have to face the shame and the fear and her own humiliation. Yet even that would be better than not knowing, than wondering if anything she saw or felt or did was real. Still, the fear kept her silent and weak. She had done all she could by coming to his cabin. She had displeased him, disobeyed him. Wouldn’t he keep reality from her for that? She was torn, hearing his voice telling her she could escape if she wanted to, if she would only give up her illusion of reality. She knew she couldn’t make that choice, she knew she needed that illusion, and knew she needed him to give it to her. So what are you doing here? He’ll be angry, and he won’t give it to you, don’t you know that?
But I have to take the risk. Even if he punishes me, it will be real for a little while, won’t it?
And what if he says nothing will ever be real again?
She sobbed to herself. Logic was useless. She needed Sulu, and that was the only truth she knew.
She heard his grim, unamused chuckle, and his voice said, “So I am, Jer.” She fought with the urge to fling herself to his feet, to beg him for reality. A moan escaped her, answered by Rand’s disgusted sigh.
“Not very pretty, you’re absolutely right, Janice,” Sulu murmured, his voice soft and silky. Ruth shuddered at the sparks of reality it gave her. “Jeremy, take Miss Rand to less disturbing quarters. Yours, for instance.”
Rand protested wordlessly. A glance from Sulu shut her mouth. Paget said, “Yes, sir,” and let go of Ruth’s arm, gallantly extending his toward Rand. The yeoman’s eyes were closed in humiliation and fear, but her face stayed set in Imperial pride as she passed Ruth. When the door closed, Ruth dared to look up. Sulu beckoned to her. Tears sprang to her eyes, wanting him, yet knowing she didn’t deserve what she had come to beg for.
“Ruth,” he said softly and it was all the coaxing she needed. She threw herself into his arms, clinging to him, weeping out her apology. She told him she was sorry, that she couldn’t help it. She begged him to forgive her, to punish her, but to make it real. He casually put her away from him. “What did you do, baby?” he asked sternly, but his eyes were glinting like the edge of a steel blade. She lowered her eyes.
“I came here - you said not to - ” She swallowed nervously. “But I tried - I went to Jim to - ”
“Did he order you here, Ruth?” The cold question froze her. She shook her head, almost started to add that Kirk had ordered her not to come, but she choked it back, afraid that Sulu would then make her leave.
“No,” he repeated thoughtfully. “But there’s more, isn’t there?” She gasped, and his fingers grabbed her jaw. “Come on, tell me baby.”
“He... I tried to make him angry – ” Sulu’s fingers dug into her flesh and she sobbed and went on hurriedly. “Only so he’d send me here! I wanted to be good, Sulu, to obey you, but I need...” The words stuck in her throat. “I need... please, I tried, I wanted to be good, please...!”
She suddenly became aware of a low, whimpering sound and she blinked, uncomprehending, as Sulu let go of her, turning from her. She watched as he knelt beside his bed, his hands reaching for something she couldn’t see and couldn’t be sure was even there. The sound turned to sobs oddly tinged with joy, and Sulu stood, Jilla cradled in his arms.
And that, she knew, was real.
Jilla’s being began fading as Sulu turned from her, but when she heard Ruth’s voice, heard Sulu talking to her, it flowed back to her. It was enough, for a while - but Ruth was so afraid, so sad. Didn’t she feel Sulu’s joy, didn’t she know he was pleased they had come? She remembered that he had told them not to, yet she knew now that he had wanted them to. He wanted them to need him more than they feared him, more than they feared punishment. Silly Sulu, she thought happily. Didn’t you already know we did? Tears of joy and being fell freely from her grey eyes.
She felt his approach, felt his arms coming around her, powerful, gentle, lifting her from the deck. “Don’t cry, honey,” was whispered to her, and the sweet flow of existence only renewed her tears. Sulu sat her on his bed and she nearly laughed with exultant expectation. She clutched at him, and he pulled away. “You displeased me,” he began.
“No, I didn’t,” she answered. A smile flickered at his lips.
“You disobeyed me,” he corrected. “I’m not happy about that.”
“You are,” she returned. He sighed in exasperation.
“I can’t let disobedience go unpunished, can I, Jilla?”
She shook her head, her eyes shining at him. He brushed hair away from her face.
“You stay here now, and wait. I have to deal with Ruth.”
She leaned forward, kissing him. “Yes, Sulu,” she replied.
As he rose from the bed, Jilla curled up, hugging herself. She was disobedient and he would punish her for it, but it didn’t matter in the least. She had done what he wanted.
Sulu closed his eyes as he turned back to Ruth, controlling the delight that wanted him to hold on to both of them and give them all the pleasure he had to offer. They had done it, both of them. The need for him was too strong, it overwhelmed their fear, it made them long for punishment. Anything was better than being without him, and anything was worth it if they could be near him. Beautiful Ruth, sweet Jilla, do you know how happy you’ve made me? He laughed at himself. Well, fool, Jilla obviously does. He had to punish both of them, disobedient things that they were, but it wasn’t going to be easy. Especially since Jilla saw right through it. He’d have to make it particularly hard on her, just to make sure of her. And, of course, Ruth had tried to circumvent him, and had angered Kirk in the process. So her discipline would have to be good and strong. Jimmy has to keep on thinking he owns me, now, doesn’t he? He laughed silently.
Gods, this was wonderful! He had reasons for strict punishment for both of them, but had equal reasons for leniency. Jilla, after all, had come with no pretense. She hadn’t even tried to assuage his anger. ‘I had to,’ she had said. ‘Make me whole.’ No excuses, no pleas for forgiveness. True acceptance. And Ruth, on the other hand, wanted to be good, had actually braved Kirk’s anger to be obedient. So I’ll punish them both, while letting them both know how very happy I am with them. A nice, powerful source of confusion. He glanced back at the bed. Not that Jilla needs it anymore. I think she’s about perfect. But Ruth... You’ll need me to guarantee reality even more after this. He smiled, knowing already that he was falling hopelessly in love.
“I was told you would be the person to contact, Admiral Mendez.” Del’s smile was bored and charming, his voice ingratiating.
“An honor, Don,” Mendez replied. With the amenities taken care of, he became attentive. “How can Starfleet serve you?”
And not a flicker of surprise that I chose to contact you instead of leaving my errands to Courtland? Ah, the arrogance of Starfleet. “I’ve been informed that we’re having some difficulties at our shipyards,” Del returned, studying his fingernails. “One of our engineers was called to his homeworld for some emergency or other. A Vulcan.” Del sniffed contemptuously. “That was bad enough, but then the engineer in charge of designing the new heavy cruisers was killed in an accident. I’ve told the yards to attend to their safety standards.”
“I see,” Mendez stated. “A problem, to be sure, but if I might inquire, Don, how does this concern Fleet?”
“I don’t think it was really an accident,” Del stated somewhat conspiratorially. Mendez leaned forward.
“Sabotage?”
“I`ve ordered an investigation, of course, but since Fleet has as much invested in the shipyards as I have, I thought it best to inform you of my suspicions. And...” Del hesitated just long enough for the Admiral to be forced to prompt him.
“Well? Excuse me, Don.”
“Of course,” Del responded, as if unaware of Mendez’ irritation. “Admiral, it has been many years since I have been annoyed by an assassination attempt. I enjoy feeling secure. This accident was too close to home for my comfort.” He waited again, seeing the Admiral’s concern for the security of the shipyards fade into annoyance over the petty fears of an insecure noble.
Mendez smiled sardonically. “I’m sure the Emperor would have heard about any such attempt on a member of his family, Don.”
“I’m not going to let anyone set me up,” Del continued. “I need my own security people working to protect me, so I’ll need a bit more protection for the yards from Fleet.”
“Don, I’m certain this is nothing more than...” Mendez began.
“Admiral, I want more protection, and that means that if you want to protect the yards, I need more from Fleet,” Del interrupted petulantly. “I can take this to the Emperor if you can’t be bothered.”
“No, Don, that won’t be necessary,” Mendez said quickly, his tone barely controlled. “I’ll see what I can spare.” He turned away form the screen, consulting something Del couldn’t see. Del glanced to his left, at Courtland who was out of visual range of the Admiral. He grinned at the Equian’s lowered head and amused half smile. He cleared his throat impatiently and Mendez turned back, his careful smile not quite able to conceal the disgusted scowl in his eyes.
“The Intrepid is patrolling your system at the moment,” Mendez said. “I could bring them in closer, if that would suit you, Don.”
Del frowned, letting his features take on an expression of distaste. “That’s a Vulcan ship, isn’t it?”
“Yes, Don, it is.”
“Well, I suppose it’s better than nothing.”
“It’s all I have available,” Mendez returned. “Respectfully, Don.”
Del sighed. “Thank you, then, Admiral. But I still won’t be responsible for any more accidents in the yards. I’ve asked for...”
“Of course not, Don,” Mendez snorted derisively. “Mendez out.”
Del flicked off the screen with a disgusted, haughty sigh, then reclined in his chair. “Sucker,” he said calmly to the blank screen.
“Very nice,” Courtland congratulated him. “How do you manage it?”
“I pretend that I’m perpetually eighteen.”
Courtland’s face clouded for an instant. “I remember.”
Del’s smile was soft. “I know you do, my friend. I hope neither of us ever forgets it.”
Courtland returned the smile warmly. “Will that be all, Don?”
“For now, Jerel. I’ve got a lot to think over before I make any more decisions.”
Courtland nodded and left the office, and Del sighed, his arm coming up over his eyes. One thing taken care of. Kirk will know he approved of Caros, that he knew of the Intrepid’s alliance with the Enterprise, that he was willing to ally himself as well. And Sulu will know Del hasn’t forgotten him. He laughed wearily. How could I ever forget about you, hawk? Perpetually eighteen. Ironic, isn’t it? For ten years, every meeting we’ve had has been accidental, and it all stems from one of the most elaborate set-ups ever conceived. Even if I do say so myself.
DelMonde!
Del’s eyes snapped open. He had dozed, and as so often happened in his dreams, he’d heard that deep, echoing shout again. He smiled ironically. It was never a nightmare, no matter how it frightened him. He had stepped onto Tarkus thinking he knew what he was going to put himself through. He had a great deal to prove to himself, and he had thought he had arranged things completely.
It had been a simple matter to speak with Ducé Ruis Calvario; the Brazilian noble had been trying to attract his attention for some time. Del had heard all about Calvario; his preferences and perversions, his status-seeking and power-plays, his influence-peddling and gold-digging. He had married into a prominent Court Family, the Monolems of Haven, but had yet to produce an heir for his acquired title. Of course, all his playing around with his young ‘proteges’ didn’t leave much time or energy to make the attempt with his wife. Cal had never before played favorites among the young people at Court, but he was doing so now. It was obvious to everyone that summer that he had decided to groom Sulu Takeda for some sort of permanent position in his private household. Just as it was becoming obvious that Sulu Takeda had other ideas. The samurai would take all the advantages Cal offered him, but reject the price tag. At the time, such arrogance, even from a Warrior Elite, was an offense to DelMonde’s noble sensibilities. That Sulu was evidencing the same kind of preferences and perversions Calvario himself fed on was something that Del never really questioned.
DelMonde had approached Cal with a simple proposition; teach me what you’ve taught Sulu, and I’ll deliver him to you, broken and eager to accept what you want to give him. Calvario had been delighted. They had used all their combined influence to convince the Imperium to allow them to use Tarkus. Del had foolishly left the details to Cal. After all, he was a Prince and couldn’t be bothered with such mundanities. His only real qualm was Calvario’s stipulation that he spend a few days with his new mentor before the needle race.
Del still shuddered at that memory. Then, he had let it all slide past him, allowing the practiced facade of a spoiled noble to insulate him from the effects of what he had experienced. But it had given him a respect for Sulu, for all he had endured, that was to make the difference at Tarkus. If he had not seen what it was that had made Sulu what he was, he would have simply kept his bargain with Calvario.
For Ruis Calvario was a master at manipulation and intimidation. He had Sulu thoroughly trapped and could lead the young man into whatever situation he wished. He used drugs, pain, stimulation, guilt, pleasure... anything and everything to keep Sulu’s soul unbalanced. That Sulu could still resist, could still argue that he would accept his swords, that he would serve the Empire, was simply astounding. Del had seen the devouring ugliness that rested behind the Ducé’s handsome face and suave manner, and knew he was making a bargain with a monster who made the torments of Tartarus seem like a lover’s caress. But seeing Sulu’s strength only made him want all the more that same strength in himself. He was determined to carry though with his gamble, and firmly put aside any real concern for the young man he would be destroying.
The sensory deprivation cell changed all of it.
Cal had told him to expect to be caught in some of the same traps and pain as Sulu. Del had arrogantly assured the man that he could handle it. The laser attack was frightening, even though Del knew Calvario wouldn’t let him be really injured. He already knew that Cal viewed injuring Sulu as merely a means to an end. He hadn’t expected the bolt that had rendered him unconscious, but when he woke, it was with the realization that it had probably been necessary. But finding Sulu in the SD cell...
Even now, Del couldn’t face that memory. It was a horror beyond anything he could imagine. His soul had cried out quite involuntarily, desperately straining towards the agony that flowed so freely from Sulu’s being. He couldn’t bear it, not for his plans, certainly not for Calvario’s twisted idea of pleasure. He knew it was far too late to alter what he and Calvario had set into motion. The only way out of Tarkus was through it. He decided that he would learn what he had come to learn, but that he would do so with the least amount of damage to Sulu. It was a far greater gamble than the one he had originally planned, for it meant he would have to deal with Sulu once - if - they made it out alive. But he knew it was his only choice. To do anything else would be to become Calvario’s puppet.
So he had gambled, highest stakes, life or death. Tarkus was the first time he’d done so, and it was from Tarkus that he learned he had the courage to face any other gamble his choices required. Jerel, Jade - both had been the rewards of Tarkus, as much as Sulu was, as much as his own manhood had been.
Tarkus had stripped away a lifetime of set ideas, of accepted superiority. He had learned all he was, and all he wasn’t, and he had learned how to keep from becoming what the Empire wanted him to be. Most importantly, he learned how to give, taught by a young man who had had everything taken from him.
Sulu. Loving, caring Sulu. And no one but me and your victims will ever know it. You love, and you destroy, because Ruis Calvario taught you that they are one and the same. It is a truth that forever burns you, and a falsehood that you can never see. For if you ever do, how will you forgive yourself for killing the first man you ever loved? Karma, neh? I could never have learned that love isn’t weakness if you hadn’t been so certain it was. And the saddest thing I know is that you, my hawk, will never believe it.
Ruth didn’t struggle as Sulu took her to Security. She was going to be punished, she knew, and though she didn’t welcome it, she knew she deserved it. She had disobeyed Kirk, she had disobeyed Sulu. She was beginning to understand that Sulu had wanted her to disobey him, and that the punishment was far more for her attempting to circumvent what he wanted. It made sense to her, in a twisted sort of way. Sulu knew she needed him, and he wanted that need to outweigh everything else. Like it did with Jilla, Ruth thought, and the realization made her angry at herself, sad for how sick Jilla was, and proud that her friend had made Sulu happy all at once.
But which is real? came the immediate question.
None, unless Sulu says so, Ruth answered it firmly. And don’t tell me its sick, I already know that. So truth is sick. So what? It doesn’t make it any less true.
Or any less sick.
Shut up!
Sulu’s voice interrupted her mental argument. “You know where we’re going, don’t you, Ruth?”
She swallowed, nodding. When he continued to gaze at her, she lowered her head and whispered, “The Soundroom.”
“Will it be real?” he asked.
“If you say so,” she replied.
“And if I say it isn’t?”
Ruth gasped, staring at him. “Then... then it won’t hurt me!” she murmured in sudden awareness.
He smiled. “We’ll see.”
Ruth’s heartrate picked up, and she found herself praying for Sulu to tell her it wasn’t real.
It’s going to be a good test, Sulu thought as he walked, holding gently onto Ruth’s arm. Ruth had been told before that if things weren’t real, she could escape their pain, but this was the first time she was applying it to pain he could inflict. Would she figure out this paradox? Can you really escape me, Ruth? Sulu thought gleefully. Or have you learned that I’m the only thing you have to endure? He pushed her gently into the Soundroom and stared into her expectant eyes. And, of course, that you have to want to endure it.
“Half an hour to start, honey,” he told her.
“Is it real?” she whispered.
He smiled. “You tell me,” he said, and activated the sonics. He watched as the scream rose in her throat, watched her panic as she realized that by feeling the pain, she had decided that it was real. Her eyes sought his beseechingly, her body alternately shuddering with expectation and spasming with the messages from her nervous system. Is it real, Ruth? he thought at her. More importantly, do I want it to be real?
The battle raged within her, her eyes getting wilder with each passing second. She wanted, gods, how she wanted it to be real - but she wanted just as strongly for it not to be real, for then, it wouldn’t sear her. And she fought with knowing that what she really wanted was whatever he wanted. That was the test here. Could she completely subjugate her will to his? Could she consciously give her desires, her needs, her hopes and fears and hungers over to him? Could she allow him to decide for her, in everything? The thought came to his mind unbidden, and he acknowledged it before brutally shoving it aside:
Please, Ruth, love me enough.
Abruptly, Ruth slipped almost gracefully to the deck. She lay there, her huge purple eyes staring at him, her body twitching under the sonics. But no sound escaped her, nothing in her manner indicated that she felt what her body reacted to. Yet, her muscles were making it clear that her nervous system was reacting. Her lips moved, and Sulu fancied he could hear her voice: Is it real?
You tell me, he mouthed back.
I need to be punished, I disobeyed you. You need to discipline me, so it must be real.
Smart bitch.
Ruth’s eyes glowed with joy for only a second, then they closed as she began to scream with the agony her body had been enduring for nearly fifteen minutes.
And Sulu’s heart rejoiced.
He let it continue for another forty-five minutes, then deactivated the sonics and went to Ruth’s tightly curled body. He stroked the blonde hair from her face, smiling when she grasped at him with fevered gratitude. “How long was that, Ruth?” he whispered to her.
She swallowed, shuddering. “You said half an hour to start,” she rasped.
“So how long was it?”
“Half an hour.”
“An hour.”
“Half an hour.”
“I said it was an hour, Ruth.”
She glanced up at him. There were tears in her eyes. “An hour, you bastard,” she hissed.
“But I said both.”
The tears fell. “Then I don’t know!” she snapped. “You tell me.”
“I don’t think so.”
She shuddered again. “You said half an hour to start,” she whispered. “That isn’t very long, and I was disobedient. I deserve more. So it was longer. But you want it to have been only half an hour so you can give me more.” She raised her eyes to him. “So it was half an hour.”
He smiled. “Even if it was really an hour?”
“You want it to be half an hour,” she insisted.
“But which is it really, Ruth?”
There was unutterable hatred in her eyes, but her answer was unshakable. “What you want it to be. Half an hour.”
“Bastard,” he said for her.
The hatred vanished instantly, replaced by love just as unutterable. “Why are you doing this to me?” she begged.
“Don’t you know?” he replied casually, but his voice was soft.
She stared at him, tears again filling her eyes, but this time they were not tears of pain, nor of confusion. She spoke, but he again fancied he could hear the words in his mind:
“Yes, I know. Bitch.”
He hugged her, then rose and returned to the control panel.
Ruth closed her eyes, breathing deeply. There was no way she would ever be as perfect as Jilla, she knew that. She would never stop hating Sulu for what he had done to her, for what she was continually letting him do to her. There was no way she would ever stop hating herself. Yet there was also, she knew now, no way she would ever stop loving him, for exactly the same reasons. And both were exactly what he wanted.
She trembled with sudden relief, knowing with certainly she could not explain that this time, the sonics would not be real.
Sulu entered his cabin after making sure Ruth was asleep in satiated exhaustion. The joyful knowledge that he hadn’t broken her, and that she yet loved him, was a deep mantle of peace about his soul. They could play games together forever, and she would never disappoint him. So unlike all the Imperial souls he had devoured. She showed him the same strength Del had, and he would always adore her for it - though, of course, since she had never offered herself to him, as Del had, he would never worship her. Still, he supposed, one god was enough - for both of them. He chuckled, then heard Jilla’s soft voice.
“Sulu?”
One down, one to go. It had taken him some time to figure out the best way to handle Jilla - sweet, certain, confident Jilla. She had every right to be confident, she was exactly what he wanted and she knew it. But he couldn’t allow that certainty to spoil her, he couldn’t take the chance that with it would come all the other vices so common to Imperial whores. And Jeremy did deserve some reward for his exemplary services, as well as some reinforcement of his obsession. It would be perfect.
Paget had fucked Rand simply to shut her up. She had started lambasting him with questions the minute they’d gotten to his cabin: What were they doing there? I thought he was through with them. What does he want from them? You said he was making another Jaris. Why didn’t he just send them to the Booth? Why did you let them in? What game is this? How am I supposed to play it?
Stupid cunt, you play it however he wants it. Your problem is you keep trying to figure him out. He doesn’t expect or want that from you. Lucky you.
He was dressing silently, aware of but not caring that Rand was feigning sleep. Sulu would want him for something before the night was out, of that much he was sure. After ten years, he was very good at anticipating his Chief’s needs. There were times when he started to think of himself as a perfect security guard - until Sulu took pains to remind him of precisely why he was so good. He had watched Sulu with an obsessive devotion for those ten years, driven to please the man who had come to be the center of his existence. He would not, he had to reluctantly admit, be so careful, so observant, so perfect for anyone else. It was only his desperate need for Sulu’s attention that kept him so cutting-edge sharp, only his vain hope that Sulu would someday respond to his obvious desire that made him prove himself over and over.
Not that he wanted things to be this way. He knew he would, if he could, change them in a minute. He would gladly stop his hunger for Sulu Takeda if he had the power to do so. But that hunger was something that had been set long ago, when he was a nobleman’s son playing with Ruis Calvario’s fire. His father had tried to warn him about the Ducé, but he was certain he knew everything - and by the time he was ready to admit how very wrong he had been, it was too late for anyone, even his powerful father, to do anything about what had happened. He was thoroughly trapped by a hopeless, twisted obsession. He didn’t blame Sulu for the fact - the samurai had really had very little to do with it - but through the years Sulu had played it with all of the skill Calvario had taught him. And that Jeremy did blame him for.
Which doesn’t change for one damn moment how I feel about him, Paget snarled to himself. Or the fact that he knows it and uses it. Or, damn it all to a thousand hells, that his playing me is what I live for, and he knows that, too. That was one thing Jeremy had learned very early. He never tried to lie to Sulu.
He sighed, rubbing his hand along his neatly trimmed beard. There was a constant knot of fear within him, the fear that Sulu would someday reveal to the rest of the Empire what lived in Paget’s soul. He would be meat for the grinder if that ever happened, and so he lived on a razor’s edge, keeping himself useful to the Chief of Security, playing the games enough to whet Sulu’s interest, but not enough to make him want to take it all the way; letting enough of the devotion show to avoid charges of lying, but not enough to give it away to anyone else; tasting enough of Sulu’s presence to keep his own hunger at bay, and keeping enough distance to prevent that hunger from overwhelming his judgment.
“Boss, why do you do this to me?” he mumbled under his breath, and damned the part of him that knew what answer he wanted.
The com signaled as if on cue, and Paget smiled wryly. Do I know you or do I know you? he thought as he answered the hail.
“Paget.”
“My cabin, Jer. Don’t bring Miss Rand.”
“On my way, Boss.”
“Jeremy?” came Rand’s voice from the bed.
“Stay here, Janice,” Paget told her from the door. “I’m sure he’ll call when he wants you.”