The Objects of Power

by Cheryl and David Petterson

From an original draft and conception by Cheryl Petterson and Susan Sizemore

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PART TWENTY

Paget signaled at the door. It slid open as Sulu’s voice said, “Come.” The light in the cabin was dim, and it took a few moments for Paget’s eyes to adjust. Costain was naked, kneeling on the bed, alert and attentive. Sulu stood at its foot dressed only in a blood-red kimono, unbelted and concealing nothing of the front of his nude body.

“You’re overdressed, Jeremy,” Sulu told him in a voice as silky as his robe.

Paget swallowed. “Looks that way, Boss,” he replied noncommittally. Sulu held out a hand, another kimono draped over it.

“Consider it a gift,” he said.

Paget moved forward, showing none of his uneasiness, and took the material from Sulu. It was a deep forest green, obviously tailored for his height and body mass.

“Thank you,” Paget murmured. He didn’t need to be told to put it on, and he started toward the bathroom. Sulu’s voice stopped him.

“I think Jilla and I would like to watch you change.” Sulu turned to the Indiian. “Wouldn’t we, Jilla?”

Her voice was soft, nearly breathless. “Yes, Sulu,” she said.

Paget bit his lip, knowing that in the dim light, and with his mahogany skin, neither would be able to see his flush. “Whatever you say, Boss,” he answered as casually as he could. Laying the kimono on the back of a chair, he tried, unsuccessfully, not to be aware of Sulu’s eyes gleaming at him as he undressed: weapons belt first, then his tunic and the body armor beneath it. His extra knives came out of his boot sheaths, then he removed his boots. He stripped off his slacks, unstrapping the guards around his calves and thighs. By the time he reached his protective cup and briefs, he was noticeably erect. He reached for the kimono and Sulu said, “Don’t spoil the view, Jer.”

His heart thundered painfully in his chest, his erection strengthening, but he stood where he was, his face carefully neutral. He felt Sulu’s approach, and shuddered.

“I knew she had an effect on you,” Sulu whispered, his hand skimming along the hardened flesh. “Who would have guessed it was this strong?”

Involuntarily, Paget gasped, “Don’t...!”

Immediately Sulu’s hand closed around the sensitive organ. “Don’t?” he hissed. “Do you mean ‘don’t touch me,’ Jeremy?”

Paget moaned.

“Or is it simply ‘not in front of Jilla?’“

Paget only groaned again.

Sulu’s hand moved slowly over him, making his erection jump and quiver. “Ah, but this isn’t for Jilla, is it?” he murmured.

“No,” Paget replied, humiliation making his voice hoarse.

“You’ve wanted me to touch you for years, haven’t you?”

“Please, Boss...”

“No secrets from my little one, Jer.”

Paget hung his head, shame warring with desire. “Yes,” he whispered.

“You’ve wanted to touch me,” Sulu continued.

“Yes.”

“You’ve wanted to kiss me.”

“Yes.”

Sulu was relentless. “You’ve wanted me to kiss you.”

The response was barely audible. “Yes,” Paget said.

“Like this.”

Suddenly Paget felt his head being pulled down to Sulu’s. Their lips met, his parting without hesitation for Sulu’s snaking tongue. Sulu’s hand at the back of his neck was bruising, keeping him savagely locked to the oral embrace, as if he would have had any thought of trying to break it. He felt his knees weakening, his legs turning to jelly. Slowly, he slumped to his knees, Sulu bending over him to continue the deep kiss. The strong, knowledgeable hands that filled his nightmares moved slowly, inexorably over him, bringing him both pleasure and humiliation. He didn’t dare try to think, didn’t dare try to affect what was happening to him. He fell into the sensation not knowing, not wanting to know how long it would last, devouring the accursed bliss, hoarding it against the fierce hunger inside him.

As abruptly as it began, Sulu broke the kiss, letting Paget fall forward, dropping onto his hands. Jeremy tried to breathe deeply, to slow the pounding of his heart. Sulu’s fingers brushed his cheek.

“But that’s not all you want, is it, Jeremy?” Sulu murmured.

Eyes closing, Paget shivered.

“You want more than a kiss, more than a touch.” The fingers moved under his chin, forcing his head up. “Look at me,” came the whispered command.

He did, and was caught, as always, by the depths of Sulu’s black, almond eyes.

“Tell me what you want.”

Paget’s mouth moved, but no sound came.

“Again,” Sulu said.

This time, the words were but a ghost of a whisper. “To serve you.”

“Jilla didn’t hear you, Jer.”

Paget swallowed, “I want to serve you,” he repeated.

Sulu smiled. “And so you do, don’t you? You’re my personal guard.” He paused, his smile taking on an edge of wickedness. “Or isn’t that what you mean by ‘serving?’“

Jeremy took a deep breath, again meeting Sulu’s gaze. “You define it, Sulu,” he said, “and I’ll obey.”

The second kiss was swift, though just as passionate, then Sulu pulled away from him. He licked the taste of Sulu’s mouth from his lips, waiting, now, for his boss to resume their usual relationship. Sulu had proven he was totally mastered, had coaxed the secret, hated admission from him. He wondered briefly what he had done to warrant this blatant reminder of how fully he was owned, but knew that it didn’t really matter. Sulu hardly needed a reason.

He prepared to sit back up on his heels, then felt the silken material of Sulu’s kimono brushing against his face, his shoulders, his hips and thighs as Sulu moved around him. Then came again the stroking fingertips, this time along his spine.

Panic began rising in Paget’s being. Sulu hadn’t taken things farther than kisses, one or two taunting caresses, since they had joined Fleet nearly nine years ago. He had longed for more, and hated the longing for a firm embrace, for the climbing passion. He had resigned himself to its elimination from his life. Once free from Calvario, free from the Imperial Palace, Sulu had never even mentioned that they had once shared glorious sexual depravities - only used Paget’s memories of them, as though they were no part of him. From the outside, one could easily assume that this was all Paget’s fantasy, and that Sulu merely played with it to keep his guard in line.

But the touch on his back was no fantasy, the caress that worked downward to his hips was teasing and knowledgeable. You won’t do this to me after all these years, please! Paget begged silently. The hunger sparked and grew, the fear and loathing with it. Please, Boss, not like this, not with your Indiian’s eyes staring at us...

...with your Indiian’s eyes staring...

This was for her benefit, Paget realized with a start. Sulu was trying to teach her something, or punish her... Sure. He wants her to understand what he can do to a person’s soul.

And then, he wants her to stay with him, like I do.

And with sudden clarity, he knew what Sulu really wanted from him.

He forced his muscles to relax, emptied his mind of the fear and concentrated on the hunger. He let the desire consume him, as he had not dared to do for nine years. He arched his back to Sulu’s touch, rocking back on his heels, closing his eyes. Ecstasy, he thought, feel the pleasure of his touch, remember the passion he wrung from you. Want it, cry for it, pledge your soul for it. Other eyes aren’t important, other opinions, other judgments. He, only he matters, only he can give you what you need, only he can make life worth living. Any payment he exacts is worth that, any price he makes you pay is a bargain. Live for him, only for him, be only for him...

Sulu’s arms came around his waist, pulling him tightly back against the warm, bronze flesh. Jeremy let his head fall back, ready, waiting for the kiss at his lips, the hand at his throat.

“Tell me what you want,” was again whispered in his ear, and this time, he knew, it wasn’t part of the game.

“Only you,” Paget murmured hoarsely, “To be, only for you.”

He heard the Indiian’s sob, and knew Sulu had achieved his goal. He didn’t hope that his boss would continue and fulfill him now that Costain was properly chastised, and he accepted that as he had always accepted everything about Sulu. To his surprise, Sulu’s mouth found his for another kiss, the hand came not to his throat, but to his hips, grasping the pelvic bone in a harsh caress. It urged him to rise from his heels, then snaked between his legs, parting his thighs. His head was pushed forward, that hand then continuing down his back, cupping and squeezing his buttocks. Fingers pushed between them, and he knew Sulu wasn’t going to stop. He beat down the fear and the anger, filling his mind with memories of an ornate, Ducal bedroom and being bound by his wrists to the gold bed-frame, his hips high in the air. Do it, do it! he begged fiercely, as silent now as he had been unashamedly vocal then. The Indiian’s open weeping went unheeded, as did the knowledge that Sulu wasn’t doing this for him. All that mattered was the penetration as Jeremy Paget surrendered utterly to his master and his beloved.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~|||~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

At first, Jilla didn’t understand what was happening. Sulu had returned to her, had kissed her, caressed her, letting the being flow richly to her. She had returned worship for his generosity, reveling in the ecstatic devotion until he reminded her that she had disobeyed him, and that disobedience still had to be punished, no matter how much he had wanted her to disobey. She humbly accepted the truth of that and submitted eagerly to his discipline. But all he had done was order her to wait on the bed, to be silent unless he spoke directly to her, and to feel. He removed his clothing languidly before her, and she could feel the delight that grew in him with her helpless reactions. The kimono he chose was the perfect compliment to both his form and color, and Jilla’s longing increased. She knew this was part of the punishment, that he wanted her tormented by her hunger for him. Her loins throbbed, her nipples erect and swelling. He would make her wait, he would teach her that it cost her as much to wait for him feeling as it did to wait in the threatening non-being. And then, she knew, he would ask her which was worse, which would she choose to endure. There was sparkling laughter in her mind. Surely he already knew the answer to that! Did he perhaps think that she didn’t know it? She was perfectly prepared to endure anything he gave her.

But then, he had called Jeremy. And she had watched, horror growing in her, as she felt Paget’s fear and hatred infused with desire to match her own. She felt Paget’s obedience, his submission to Sulu’s every whim - and felt, too, that it wasn’t enough. Sulu taunted him, Sulu tested him, he never failed, but he wasn’t enough. Sulu didn’t claim him, and he didn’t stop hating his own devotion. The emotions filled her, crawling inside her, so much like those she felt herself. Did she, then, still feel the fear, the hatred? Did she, then, still rebel against Sulu’s mastery? Jeremy was perfectly obedient, and he still rebelled. How could she not, when she couldn’t even obey? If Paget wasn’t worthy, how could she be? And if she wasn’t, would Sulu leave her as aching and humiliated as he left Paget?

That thought was terrifying. She wasn’t strong enough, could never endure what Paget did. To have him mock her devotion and degrade her with her own need, never fulfilling it, yet never allowing her to escape from it...

She sobbed, understanding. She had been arrogant, she had presumed too much. He had wanted her to come to him, but it was hubris to accuse him of it. It was blasphemy to try to interpret the will of the gods. She was sworn to obey his commands, not to obey what she thought he wanted. And when she disobeyed him, she was to accept his punishment, not rejoice that she had pleased him despite her disobedience. She cast herself down from his bed, no longer worthy to occupy it, and wept, letting the emotions thunder into her, breaking her.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~|||~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

For precisely measured seconds, Sulu allowed the memories to surface. Though they were tinged with the sharp bitterness that colored all thoughts of Calvario, he soared on the carnal ecstasy. It was as it had always been, since the first time Cal had presented him with the beautiful nobleman’s son, since the first time he had aroused and tortured and taken the mahogany flesh. For only when he penetrated Jeremy did he also penetrate the anger and fear that drove them both. Then, as now, he was master, but he was not. Jeremy was victim, but he was not. What passed between them had never been given expression in words, for to speak them would doom them both. It was enough, while it lasted, to feel the communion, to know that Jeremy welcomed this as much as Sulu himself would have begged for it. And it didn’t matter that, when it was over, it would again be denied and hidden and twisted by each of them into something ugly. It didn’t even matter that it was affecting Jilla precisely as Sulu had wanted. For now, it was perfection.

He couldn’t allow it to last, of course. He reveled in it as long as was safe, then pulled harshly away from the emotions, burying them, using his remaining arousal to cause Jeremy as much pain as he could. Paget cried out, collapsing away from his thrusts with his own abrupt climax. Sulu released him, moving away from him. He approached Jilla, still erect, relishing her tear-streaked face and the fear that poured from her.

So much for Imperial arrogance, he thought with satisfaction. He took her on the deck, her sobbing apologies filling him with delight. He knew she felt it, and he felt her disregarding it, responding only to the propriety of his discipline. His orgasm came quickly, and Jilla whispered her devoted gratitude for being allowed to receive him. It made him laugh, but Jilla did not laugh with him, though her eyes shone with pleasure for the pleasure of her god.

He stood, bringing her up with him, sitting her back on the bed. He stroked her hair, wiping the remnants of her tears with his thumbs. “Humility, little one,” he told her gently. “You are mine. You do, you feel only what I want, what I command.”

She nodded, fresh tears glistening in her grey eyes.

“You presumed too much, you understand that?” he asked.

“Yes,” she replied. Her voice was as soft and as yielding as her body had been, and Sulu smiled.

“You’re not going to presume anything ever again, are you?”

“No, Sulu.”

“Tell me.”

She took a deep breath. “What you want is for you to know. I tried to know your will. That was wrong. All I need to know is what you tell me.” She glanced up at him, fear in her gaze, her voice dropping to a whisper. “And to do what you want even when you don’t tell me, even when you forbid it, even though it’s wrong.”

He frowned. “And to be proud of yourself for it?” he asked.

She lowered her eyes. “No, never. It is wrong.” She sobbed, trembling before him. “I was wrong. I’m ashamed...” She broke, the tears sliding down her cheeks.

Sulu enfolded her in his arms, soothing her, comforting her with words of forgiveness and absolution. She clung to him, again weeping, and he kissed her tears away, satisfaction filling him.

“That all for now, Boss?” Paget’s voice said from above him. He glanced up, noting that his guard was fully dressed and as calm as if he had just brought his Chief the daily reports.

“I think so, Jer,” Sulu replied, then added with silky innuendo, “Unless you have more for me.”

Paget’s smile was easy. “What you see and all that.”

“And all that,” Sulu repeated suggestively, then returned the smile. “Dismissed, Jer.” Then he turned his attention back to Jilla. “You’d never know I just fucked him, would you?” he commented to her.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~|||~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

For one panicked moment, Paget’s eyes met Costain’s. He saw reflected in them all that he felt, saw her sympathy and her shared pleasure. And he saw understanding, and the panic subsided. No, she’d never know you just fucked me, he thought. That is, not if anyone ever asked her. She’ll keep our secret, Boss, which is why you could afford to do it. He found himself shuddering at the thought that, because of Jilla, it might happen again, and not after another nine years. As he left the cabin, he realized that he couldn’t decide whether he hated or loved her for that.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~|||~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Costain was quietly docile, going about her morning routine with silent efficiency. Valley’s eyes followed the Indiian as if she wanted to speak to her, but was afraid of disturbing the silence. The Antari’s movements were erratic, nervous, and she finally crossed to the Indiian, taking the shorter woman’s shoulders.

“Jilla, did he punish you?” she asked.

Costain wouldn’t meet her gaze, but she nodded.

“How?”

“He hurt me,” was the simple reply.

“But - he was pleased...”

“I disobeyed him.”

“But he wanted us to.”

Costain shrugged off Valley’s hands. “That’s not our concern,” she snapped. “We were disobedient. He punished us. It’s his right and we’re not supposed to question it.”

“He wants us to question it, don’t you know that?” Valley cried.

“We do what he says, no matter what he wants!” Costain vehemently insisted.

“No, we do what he wants no matter what he says!” Valley returned just as insistently.

“That’s hubris!” Costain shrieked. “That’s arrogance!”

“That’s the truth!” Valley screamed back.

Costain collapsed, sobbing. Valley joined her, wrapping her golden arms around the trembling silver shoulders.

“We can’t know that, Ruth,” Costain whispered, her voice sheer misery. “We have to do it, but we can’t know it. Just obey him, do just as he says, and when we can’t, let him punish us and know we were wrong.”

“But then we’re wrong either way,” Valley rasped. “He wants us to...” She suddenly sobbed with the realization. “...and we can’t know it. The damned bastard!”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~|||~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Disgusting, aren’t they?” Sulu remarked casually.

“You son-of-a-bitch,” Marlena snapped.

“Calm down, Marlena,” Sulu returned with a gently patronizing smile. “It was necessary.”

“I don’t see it, and in any case, we don’t have to watch it,” she nearly snarled.

“Not up for some simple entertainment?” Sulu asked. His voice was insultingly innocent.

“That is quite enough, Sulu,” Spock interjected sharply. “It is disgusting and I fail to see the purpose behind these games.”

“Jim understands,” Sulu replied blandly as Kirk turned from switching off the Tantalus monitor.

Kirk grinned. “I wouldn’t’ve suggested we look in on them otherwise,” he said. “Sulu, do something about a permanent screen. We’ll be needing it.”

Sulu nodded and Spock caught Marlena’s quick, ironic glance. She, too, suspected that Sulu already had. Spock sat back, annoyed, but waiting to hear what Jim had to say. Sulu’s apology for Valley’s clumsy attempt of the night before had been properly ingratiating, and the report from Security regarding her discipline indicated that she had paid for it. Still, Spock found such juvenile one-ups-man-ship distasteful. And he didn’t care to see the pathetic results of Sulu’s bad habits until the tools were needed...

He stopped his thoughts abruptly. Patience, he reminded himself. Your irritation is making you react as Sulu expects. There is something behind his actions, always. It is difficult to remember it, particularly when he works so hard to make it so, but if you are to win with him, you must.

He glanced at the Tantalus and realized with sudden clarity just how observant Sulu was, and had always been. He had known about the Tantalus from the beginning, and yet had never intimated it by word or deed to anyone. He simply made quietly certain that he was immune to its effects. How startled Jim had been. And all Sulu would say was, “It wasn’t very smart to leave that scientist alive and in his lab.” Marlena, too, had a shock that day when Sulu didn’t disappear when the Tantalus ordered him to. Why hadn’t he killed Kirk? The Federation Captain couldn’t have been a match for Sulu’s speed or cunning. When asked, Sulu had replied, “He overpowered me,” with the smile he reserved for his private jokes. Spock reflected now that he could use knowing exactly what had happened. Sulu had never given any reason for any of them to think that he had known about the transporter’s unusual malfunction at the time. But if he had known about the Tantalus field, and had not known of the switch between universes, why had he chosen that moment to make an attack in Sickbay? It made no sense on the surface, and that only cemented Spock’s certainty that Sulu must have had some kind of ace.

As he had when he joined this conspiracy of ours, Spock reflected. It had taken real nerve to do as Sulu had done, to walk into Spock’s office and blithely announce, “Something’s up. I’m in, or it’s all out. I’ve even got something to offer - immunity to the Captain’s dangerous toy. Or do you trust each other?” He hadn’t, of course, thought it necessary to mention that he also had Security to offer.

“I have a suggestion to make,” Sulu’s voice said, and Spock returned his attention to the present.

Kirk leaned forward in his chair. “Yes?”

“I did my job well.” Sulu shrugged, his whole attitude self-effacing. “Maybe too well. I sometimes get carried away.” He grinned. “Their - obsession - will wear off, given time...”

Spock frowned, suspecting that Sulu had no intention of ever giving Valley or Costain that time.

“...but we need their talents now, not six months from now. That means they have to start thinking for themselves. I can tell them what I want, and they’ll do it, but I think they would perform better if they thought they were working for themselves.”

“Illogical and unnecessary,” Spock broke in. “They are tools. One does not explain to a tricorder the reasons for requested information.” Sulu regarded him blankly, and Spock fought the annoyance and went on. “Your personal relationship with them does not concern me, Sulu. You can play any games with them that you wish. But business is another matter.”

“This is business,” Sulu insisted. “You test equipment to see if it’s functioning properly. I want to test them to see how well they function, to see if we can rely on their Federation creativity as well as their Federation skill.”

“Spock,” Kirk interrupted. “I happen to agree with Sulu. Let’s see what they can do on their own, what they’ll think of.”

“Find out how Federation minds work,” Sulu rejoined, his eyes gleaming at Spock with an emotion Spock couldn’t read. The Security Chief obviously had a reason for this new tactic, but Spock could not fathom what it was.

“You’re talking about them like they’re things!” Marlena said with an almost horrified look on her face. “They’re people, intelligent women...”

“Marlena, they are tools,” Spock told her. “We cannot afford the luxury of being beneficent to anyone but ourselves until we have achieved our ends.”

“Which is more important, tools or allies?” Marlena insisted.

“An illogical question.”

“The way they are now, yes,” Sulu replied. “But if we give them the space they need...”

“Quite a statement coming from the man who relieved them of that space in the first place!” Marlena spat.

“Marlena!” Sulu exclaimed in mock offense. “I’m on your side!”

“But not for the same reason!”

“Do reasons make a difference?” Kirk put in. “Sulu and I agree they should be allowed gradually increasing freedom. It’s what you want for them. The only hold out is Spock.”

“I maintain that such an action is an unnecessary risk,” Spock reiterated. “We can get what we need from them without this delay.”

“We’ve got a chance for more, Spock,” Kirk replied. “Weren’t you the one who convinced me that it’s stupid to throw opportunities away?”

What nonsense! Spock thought angrily. This has nothing to do with our cause, or even those young women. Your words have a certain veneer of logic, and you use Marlena by playing on her sensitivities. So it is three against one, and you will be free to play games with your victims. I can sense the avid greed in both your eyes, the childish delight; Marlena cannot. She sees your suggestion as somehow merciful. She cannot understand that you would play them with less reason and leniency than I would use them. There is a vast difference between tools and toys, and it does not diminish simply because the toys must eventually become useful. And as they must, how can I sanction so much time lost? We have used up enough of our lives already, too much time has passed with too little to show for it. My time is valuable, every second irretrievably precious, and you would waste more of it to gratify your whims. And I must tolerate it, or cause dissension we can ill afford. Nothing, nothing I can do! He sighed bitterly and regarded the men in front of him. His instincts told him not to concede, but he knew he had little choice. But only for now, he swore tightly.

“As I am outvoted, Captain,” he said, “as you wish.”

Kirk nodded graciously to him while Marlena gave him a quick, grateful smile. There was no reaction at all from Sulu, and Spock noted it.

“Next order of business?” the Security Chief questioned.

“We’ve received word from the Intrepid,” Kirk told them.

Nothing I did not know well before you, Kirk, Spock thought sardonically, aware that his condescension was motivated by his frustration. Sesek owes his captaincy to me. Fleet had “insulted” Vulcan with its treatment of Sarek’s half-breed son. So the offense was mitigated by permitting the captaincy of a ship to be won by the son of another important family. Sesek was full Vulcan besides, so the insult, by Terran reckoning, was more than paid for. As if one’s blood mattered, Spock jeered silently. But Sarek was fully aware of the logic of accepting such an ‘insult.’ Vulcan did not view it kindly, and that is exactly what Sarek wished. Sesek, too, understood the discrepancy. He was properly grateful to the House of Scarn, and reported promptly, privately to its heir. Sesek knew Spock acted with his father’s approval. And what Sarek approved, so, eventually, would Vulcan.

Spock had always thought it odd, how little the all-seeing Empire knew of its most dangerous ally. Not that he would wish it any other way. Terran ethnocentrism and ignorance would be their downfall, for they were too self-centered to realize that Vulcans use whatever is given them, even Terran women sent as political bribery. They had thought to defuse the power of Vulcan’s greatest House with the taint of mixed blood. Spock laughed at the absurdity of the idea. Pardon my irreverence, Mother.

“There was an accident at the Rigellian shipyards,” Kirk was continuing, “and the Don called Fleet for more protection for the yards. According to Sesek, the Don was well aware that the Intrepid was the only ship close enough to be called in. The Don said he needed his own men for his personal protection.”

“An accident,” Sulu murmured. “What kind?”

“Explosion. It killed his top engineer.”

“Sure it did.”

“You think not, Sulu?” Spock put in suddenly. He noticed Sulu’s abrupt but quickly recovered start, as if he hadn’t realized his words had been spoken aloud. Do I believe the reaction, or the cover? Spock wondered.

“The Don isn’t that clumsy,” Sulu answered with a casual shrug. “If Thompson’s dead, it was no accident.”

“But you’re inclined to think he’s not, is that it?” Kirk asked.

Sulu grinned. “Would you let a valuable asset go?”

Kirk smiled broadly in response, and Spock made a mental note that there was the edge of private amusement to Sulu’s continued smile. What is it, my complex friend? This news pleases you. Why? And does it have anything to do with us? He filed the thoughts and concentrated on the present situation.

“DelMonde knows of the Intrepid’s connection with us, and I would venture a guess that he has returned our cooperative overture,” he stated.

Kirk nodded. “An alliance,” he said, leaning back in his chair with satisfaction.

“So it would seem,” Spock agreed. He noticed Marlena’s smile, but it was replaced in his thoughts by the gleam of triumph in Sulu’s eyes.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~|||~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

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