Spock bristled. He had been maneuvered and defeated, he knew, and he detested the feeling. DelMonde was implying that he could provide a solution to the problem of Jim and Marlena - given a reason. He had not yet addressed the problem of keeping Sulu from completing his vengeance, although he had stated he could do so - again, given a reason. What reason would persuade you? Spock wondered. What is it you want, besides Ruth Valley? He thought quickly. Sulu has said all cards will be laid out. I have given much. Perhaps then, Don, it is time for give and take.
“And what is it that is important to you, Don DelMonde?” Spock asked bluntly. “I can assess my abilities and talents with more precision if I know what it is you will find valuable.”
Del sighed, settling back in his chair. “What is it that I want,” he mused. He pursed his lips, raising his fingers to them. “Peace. Freedom. Choice. The power to properly care for those who have, one way or another, come under my influence.” He stared at Spock over his hands. “Isn’t that what any man wants, Commander?”
“I have subtlety and skill in political maneuvering,” Spock replied crisply. “I have the power to influence the Vulcan Council and to guarantee the backing of all of Vulcan’s resources. I have scientific and technological knowledge sufficient to advance any faction far beyond that of the Empire.” He was aware of Sulu’s quiet snort, but ignored it. “I have personal strength, of mind, of body, of will, and the determination to put aside personal slights for a greater cause.” He took a deep breath. All cards on the table. “And I have intimate knowledge of your hawk, and the means to gain such intimate knowledge of any person you would choose.” Marlena gasped.
“Knowledge which you stole?” DelMonde asked softly.
“Yes,” Spock replied with quiet defiance. “At the time, I deemed it necessary.”
“And a man uses,” DelMonde returned, almost to himself. “You gave grave insult and injury to my most valued friend, Commander Spock. Tell me why I should forgive it.”
“For all the reasons I just gave you, Don DelMonde,”
“Tell me why you shouldn’t pay for it.”
Spock considered carefully. ‘Because payment would mean my death, or insanity,’ seemed circular. Would he then not be asked why his life and sanity were important? The Don was unlike any other Imperial power he had ever dealt with. He asked for reasons. Spock was becoming increasingly aware that, with DelMonde, they were reasons and not merely prices. Unless the Don saw some advantage other than personal, he would not support an action. Spock suspected that he would support an action that did have an advantage even if it caused him a personal difficulty. There was honor in this man. And loyalty. The only time he allowed personal concerns to govern his actions was when it impacted on someone for whom he felt responsible in some way And in such a case, no reason would be sufficient.
He faced the Don squarely, locking eyes with him. “There is no reason, Don,” he said. “I ask that I be spared, for all the value I can bring to this revolution. But I can think of no reason why you should grant such a thing.”
To his surprise, Sulu stood and bowed; deeply and sincerely. He had never seen the Security Chief present such a formal and genuine gesture of respect. The Don smiled at his hawk, then nodded.
“Very well, Commander. I will let you work that out with Sulu, short of your life and your sanity.”
“Agreed, Don,” Sulu said. “Short of his life and sanity.”
When Sulu again took his seat, the look in the black eyes made Spock shiver.
Marlena didn’t understand exactly what was going on. That Spock had done something to Sulu was obvious. The Don would rein in Sulu’s vengeance while allowing some retribution. Spock’s value to the revolution was being acknowledged, but only after he had confessed to wanting her. She didn’t understand why that was an important factor to the Don, but it was. Yet she was in the same predicament as when she had pleaded with Sulu for help.
“Don DelMonde,” she broke in carefully. “What about me?”
“Ah yes, what about you?” Del said, turning to her. “Tell me, Miss Moreau, do you want to be First Officer’s Woman?”
“No,” she replied. She caught Spock’s rapidly rising eyebrow before she continued. “I want to be free to choose.”
DelMonde laughed lightly. “But at any rate, you don't want to be Captain’s Woman.”
“I don’t want to have to sleep with and cater to a man I don’t love.”
“Even when that man loves you.”
“Especially then,” she returned. “I don’t want to hurt Jim, and I can’t live a lie anymore. I’ve changed, and I can’t go back to what I was.”
“And Captain Kirk doesn’t care about that, does he?” DelMonde asked gently.
Marlena felt tears in her eyes. “No. He says he wants me and he’ll have me and I’m not leaving him.” A sob caught in her throat.
“How long have you been involved with Commander Spock?”
“We started sleeping together about eight months ago,” Marlena said.
“And you would be content to attach yourself to him - for your own safety?”
“For more reason than that, Don DelMonde.”
“And that ‘more reason’ is...?” DelMonde inquired.
Marlena took a deep breath. “I love him,” she said boldly, only too aware of how dangerous an admission it was. She felt Spock’s eyes on her, and turned to him. “It’s true,” she nearly whispered. “I didn’t realize it before, but it’s true.”
“Well.” DelMonde slapped his hands together. “Since it would be a mutually agreeable situation, Miss Moreau must become the First Officer’s Woman.”
“But Jim...” Marlena began.
“Will be reasoned with,” DelMonde interjected.
“How?” Spock asked bluntly.
“Does he value his skin?” Sulu replied, grinning.
“You can’t be serious!” Marlena exclaimed.
“As long as Captain Kirk thinks I am, that’s all that is necessary, yes?” DelMonde rejoined.
“But you can’t leave him with nothing!” Marlena protested.
“Why not?” Sulu wanted to know.
“You do care for him, then?” DelMonde asked.
“I... Yes. No. I don’t know.” Marlena hugged herself miserably. “Yes, I suppose so. I just don’t love him. I don’t want him.”
“Then leave his compliance to me,” DelMonde said. “I promise you I will be gentle.”
Marlena looked into the Don’s dark, unreadable eyes. “Can you really get him to let me go? Without a fight? Without some vengeance on me? Or Spock?”
DelMonde smiled. “Trust me, Miss Moreau.”
To her surprise, Marlena found that she did.
“Just out of curiosity, ma’am,” Jeremy murmured as he escorted Jilla back to Sulu’s cabin, “what in the name of the gods did you think you were doing?”
“He was hurting,” Jilla whispered.
Jeremy stared at her for a wonder-filled moment. And you somehow knew that. Boss, do you know what a find you have here? “But to bring Spock to him...” he continued, shaking his head. “Not very smart, ma’am.” He opened the door to Sulu’s quarters, gently steering her inside.
“Spock knows,” was her only response.
Spock knows? Spock knows what? Paget thought furiously. Is it my business? Is it something Sulu wants me to understand? Do I need to understand it whether or not he wants me to? Damn it, Boss, why do you do this to me? The answer came too quickly and Jeremy damned that as well. It made him think of what amends would be required for his failure to warn Sulu of the Vulcan’s approach, and for witnessing the mutual submission between Sulu and the Don. And it made him think of the Imperial Palace, and noble’s decadent games - and Ducé Ruis Calvario.
He shook off the threatening memories and turned his attention back to Jilla. “Spock knows what?” he asked.
“Sulu,” she replied. Then her grey eyes were looking directly into his. “How will he punish us?” she asked. The calm acceptance startled him as well as her use of the term ‘us.’ There was no fear in her, no panic, but no hope either. He recalled the joy that had broken through her tears in Sickbay. The terrible pain had left her god, and that was all that mattered to her. It was still all that mattered. As the envy and bitterness at Sulu’s kissing the Don had been all that mattered to him, so much so that he, too, had ignored the knowledge of retribution. He shook his head again, this time envying her perfection.
“I don’t know, ma’am,” he told her. But however he does it, I’ll bet we’ll love him for it.
The Intrepid and the Artemis raced side by side in a precise Imperial alignment. A shielded and scrambled communications link was kept open and active between them. Anyone doing a quick scan would, by that flanking, assume the two starships were on an important mission for the Imperium. Both O’Niall and Sesek hoped that would be enough cover while their engineers implemented the intricate design schematics received from the Enterprise.
“A cloak,” Illyana murmured. “Haven’t Imperial scientists been trying to come up with one for years?”
“Yes,” Sesek replied. “It is relatively easy to confound sensor readings of a vessel itself. The problem has been erasing a warp signature.”
“How will this modification do that?”
“It will cause our engines to project an energized particle field that is itself undetectable by current sensor technology. In that way, both the ship and its warp residue will be concealed.”
“And this particle field is...?”
“Verilium-obstitrate.”
Illyana whistled. “Shit, somebody knows their rocks.”
There was a slight pause, and Illyana imagined the raised eyebrow. “Indeed, Captain? You know the properties of such a combination?”
“I am Draco,” she reminded.
“Why then, if I may ask, does not Draco employ such a cloak itself?”
“We’re talking minerals here, Sesek. A combination of verilium and obstitrate forms a very effective sensor block, but it’s solid, a wall. Not something you could put around a ship in space. To get it suspended in an energy field and still have it retain its shielding capabilities...” She shook her head. “Let’s just say that it’s beyond the skill of any Draco I know.”
“The Enterprise must have an enviable source of information and expertise,” Sesek commented.
“I thought his name was Spock,” Illyana teased.
“Perhaps,” came the guarded response.
Illyana frowned. “Captain, if we’re going to be renegades together, I think we need to trust each other.”
Again, Sesek only replied, “Perhaps,” but Illyana was sure she heard a sardonic grin in the Vulcan’s tone.
“Well, when we get to Rigel, I’ll have to...” she began.
“Captain,” Dallas’ urgent voice interrupted. “We’re picking up four Imperial destroyers, 147 mark 24 on an intercept course.” From the Science Station, Lieutenant Commander Roupel added, “Their weapons are charged and locked, two on us, two on the Intrepid,”
“Raise shields,” Illyana snapped. “Come about to face...”
“Captain O’Niall,” Sesek’s voice broke in. “We cannot raise shields while the modifications are being implemented.”
“Shit.” She swiveled to face the Engineering Station. “Nestor, how long before implementation is complete?” she asked.
Lieutenant Nestor checked a grid display. “Another fifteen, twenty minutes, Captain,” he replied.
“They’ll be in firing range in five,” Dallas reported.
“Can we outrun them?” Illyana said.
“For approximately another five minutes.”
“And after that, we can only use phasers.” The photon torpedoes were useless to them if they could not shield themselves from the effects. “Ten minutes to outmaneuver them,” she mused. “Sesek, can you manage that?”
“I am Vulcan,” was Sesek’s crisp response.
Illyana smiled grimly at the retort, and gave the orders for evasive maneuvers and phaser arming, hearing the Vulcan Captain giving the same orders. Then she told Dallas to, at his discretion, blast the living hell out of the destroyers.
(inset scenes with Costain and Valley fretting/musing on their next moves, plans, etc.)
Sesek held firmly to the arms of the con as the Intrepid rocked for the third time under a blast from the phasers of the Mars, one of the Imperial destroyers. He snapped, “Return fire!” and waited for his Science Officer to announce the direct hit and damage done. He was not disappointed, but the damage was minimal. The destroyers had full shielding capability. “Come about, hard,” he ordered the helm, “and descend 45 degrees.”
“Captain, the Artemis has just turned directly under us,” came the sensor report.
“Descend, Soran,” Sesek repeated to the helm. “It will confuse the Imperials and Captain O’Niall is a competent enough commander to get out of our way.”
“Captain, the Intrepid is right on top of us!” Roupel shouted.
“Dallas, hard to port, give Sesek room,” Illyana responded.
The Artemis shuddered. “Damage to the secondary hull,” Emerson said from Communications.
“How much longer!” Illyana demanded.
“Almost done, ma’am. Another three minutes...”
The ship lurched, sending the crew of the Bridge sprawling over their consoles. “Damnit, Dallas, can’t you do any better than that!” Illyana screamed.
“I’ve hit them six times in the last two minutes,” Dallas thundered back at her. “Is it my fault they’re smaller, faster, more maneuverable and have shields?”
“Keep us out of their fucking way!”
“Do you care if I ram the Intrepid?”
“Not funny, mister!”
“Sorry, ma’am.”
“Damage to decks 14 and 15, sections B through F,” Sikal reported from Communications. “Control crews dispatched.”
“Another hit and the hull will breach,” Sarre added from Sciences.
“Selok, when can we raise the shields?” Sesek asked Engineering.
“Five seconds, Captain... three... and now!”
“Raise shields, Soran. Photon torpedoes armed and locked on the Mars. Fire as soon as the Artemis is cloaked.”
“Yes, Captain.
“And Soran.”
“Captain?”
“Destroy her utterly.”
“The Intrepid just disappeared!” Roupel called.
“Nestor!” Illyana demanded.
“Vulcans work faster than we do,” the Engineer replied tersely.
“How long!"
“Thirty seconds, Captain,” Nestor said.”
“The Marduk is firing on the Intrepid’s last known position,” Roupel reported. “No effect as far as I can tell.”
“Ten seconds to completion, ma’am,” Nestor broke in.
Illyana counted backwards mentally, then snapped, “Raise shields, arm photon torpedoes, fire when ready.”
“Photon fire from out of nowhere,” Roupel rejoined jubilantly.
“The Mars was just scattered across the sector.”
“Go get ‘em Sesek!” Illyana crowed.
“More photon fire. Direct hit to the Hecate’s engines,” Roupel continued. “She’s dead in space.”
“Finish her, Dallas,” Illyana growled.
“With pleasure, ma’am.” There was a pause. “Hecate destroyed, Captain,” Dallas said, his voice thick with satisfaction. “Torpedo two away. Direct hit on the Thor.”
“The Marduk is destroyed,” Sarre reported. “The Thor is badly damaged.”
“Finish this,” Sesek commanded.
On the screen, the photon torpedo streaked across the star field. It detonated soundlessly, taking one of the Thor’s engines with it. Moments later, the destroyer itself exploded.
“Sikal, a channel to Captain O’Niall,” Sesek said.
“Open, sir.”
“Captain,” Sesek asked, “can you continue on to Rigel, or do you require a delay to repair damage?”
“Our engines are fine, Sesek. Our repairs can be completed en route. And you?”
“The same.”
“We’ll need to keep this channel open.” The voice from the communications panel chuckled. “For some reason, we can’t see you.”
“We seem to be experiencing the same difficulty.”
“If I may borrow a word - fascinating.”
“Indeed, Captain.”
“Sesek?”
“Yes, Captain?”
“Call me Illyana.”
Sesek smiled and turned to his helm. “Return to course, Soran. Maximum warp to Rigel.”
Sulu escorted the Don to the cabin that had been prepared for him and his Consigliore. There was only proper Imperial silence between them, even though the whole ship now knew the Enterprise and her crew were renegades. Once inside the cabin with the door firmly closed, Sulu abruptly voice-locked it. With movement too swift to counter, he grasped DelMonde’s left arm, locking his other hand behind the Don’s head, pulling him into another bruising, passionate kiss.
Del mastered his reaction just as swiftly, returning it, even allowing Sulu to bring him to his knees. Then he broke the embrace and said softly, “Talk to me, Sulu.”
Sulu dropped into a cross-legged position on the deck. “Yes, I found her for you,” he said without preliminary, and DelMonde reflected that it was much like Courtland - Sulu knew to address things personally important to his Don first. “But it was her computer skills I meant for you to have. I chose her because I would enjoy breaking her.” Black eyes gazed steadily into his. “I didn’t know you were a telepath, Don.”
Del started. Am I?
And so am I.
Slowly, he absorbed the information. It made sense. It put everything since Tarkus into perspective. It explained much; how Sulu had survived Calvario, how they had known how to work together to escape, how he felt his hawk’s spectral presence on his arm, no matter that they had not spoken in ten years.
And it explained his star, and the explosion between them.
Any why he and Sulu could be nothing less than equals.
“How long have you known?” he asked.
“Only a few weeks,” Sulu replied. “I found that Ruth could communicate with me, and I with her.” He paused. “But you are and she is and I am and that colors everything.”
A smile pulled at the corners of Del’s mouth. “Think of what we can accomplish, hawk.”
“I need her,” Sulu broke in bluntly. “I can’t be without her, and I have to test her. You know that.”
“And I can’t allow you to,” Del returned. “You know that. Feast when you must, beloved, but you must trust her.” He held Sulu’s gaze. “As you trust me.”
If I let her regain her balance, she’ll see what I am...
And love you, as I do.
I can’t believe that.
I know.
“I will test her for you,” DelMonde said aloud, “and I will guarantee her acceptance.”
“I’m afraid I can’t guarantee that for you,” Sulu rejoined. Del grew suddenly wary - then caught the glint in Sulu’s eyes. “I’m better in bed than you are. Or so Loki always told me.”
“Ah, Loki,” Del said as he settled back on his heels. “What’s to be done about the Duchessa?”
“She’s playing both sides, as usual. Your harem slut told her about my women, and she’s worried the Ducé has returned from the dead.” Sulu chuckled grimly.
“I’ll speak to her,” DelMonde assured, carefully steering his thoughts away from further contemplation. “And Spock?” he asked gently.
Sulu’s face darkened with hatred, even as his eyes gleamed with pleasure. “He raped my mind,” he stated. “He took every memory, every thought, every feeling. He knows me, Del.”
“And gave nothing.” Del’s voice was hard. “How did this happen? Who betrayed you?”
“I betrayed myself,” Sulu returned in a tight monotone. “Spock watched me, saw how important Ruth and Jilla were. My carelessness. During Uhura’s attempted coup, Ruth was poisoned. I held onto her life, trying to give her the telepathic aid she needed to cure herself. Spock caught me off guard.”
The agony crying inside Del’s mind was nearly unbearable. Sulu’s self-loathing and hatred beat against his awareness, trying to convince even him of the terrible weakness. I loved them and he saw it! If I hadn’t, there would have been nothing to see, no advantage to take! Weak, ugly thing...!
No, beloved. It was the love that made you strong enough to endure it, the love that is my soul and redemption...
He raped me!
For one horrible eternity, Del’s thoughts were consumed with a ghastly picture; a young, brash samurai with all the Warrior Elite’s grace and strict honor - with the understanding of loyalty and devotion only one of that class could truly comprehend - forced to his hands and knees, held there, the black eyes clouded with drugs... and the approach of Ducé Calvario, obscenely engorged, stroking the smooth, bronze flesh, a lascivious chuckle and...
NO!
Del found that he had pulled Sulu up from the deck into a fierce embrace. He enveloped his hawk in all the protection he had ever received from him, battling the soul-crushing memories as they flashed through Sulu’s tortured mind. Finally power reasserted itself, and all thoughts of Calvario were pushed into a dark hole deep within Sulu’s being, locked there beyond all sight. Del shuddered with the effort to likewise screen the knowledge. When Sulu’s thoughts, dark and heavy, snarled, love is evil, he could only answer, except between you and I, my hawk.
“And I said ‘short of his life and sanity,’” Del muttered aloud.
“A good call, Don,” Sulu replied, then shrugged at Del’s incredulous expression. “You need Vulcan.” He grinned. “And I can do a hell of a lot short of death or insanity.”
Del grinned back. “That you can.” By unspoken agreement, they both rose from the deck.
“What will you offer Kirk?” Sulu asked.
“Ah, for that,” DelMonde murmured, “I need to speak to the Duchessa.”
“Shall I escort her to you?”
“Please.”
“Right away, Don.”
Sulu turned toward the door, calmly speaking his name to release the lock. Del walked over to the comfortable chairs and low table that had been provided for him. “Sulu,” he said, “if I had had the time to ask you first, I would have.”
“No,” Sulu returned without looking at him. “You assumed she was for you. You were right. I hadn’t realized it, but you were right.”
“Not this time, hawk. I won’t deny your sacrifice. You give me much by agreeing to share with me. I honor that. I won’t forget it.”
Neither will I, Del.
I know.
Marlena returned to Spock’s cabin with him. He had asked if it was a wise choice. She had replied that she couldn’t face Kirk again until the Don had settled things. To her own chagrin, she had also asked if Spock wanted Jim to take her, for that was surely how the Captain would treat her if she did see him again. The glacial rage in his hooded eyes gave her more honesty than his calm words: “You already know the answer to that, Marlena.”
Sepak was pointedly told that no one was to gain entrance, not the Captain, not the Don, no one without Spock’s direct instruction. Sepak nodded impassively. Inside, Ruth was quickly packing her belongings under Jerel Courtland’s watchful gaze. Spock watched her silently for a moment, then spoke.
“Miss Valley, I regret that the requisition for your guitar will, in all likelihood, never be filled.”
Ruth didn’t face him. “Understood, Commander.”
“I also regret the end to our association.”
Marlena stiffened in angry humiliation. Was this payment for the Don’s forcing him to confess that she was important to him?
“Forgive me if I don’t share that regret,” Ruth replied.
“Had I known you were a telepath, things could have been very different.”
Why are you doing this to me? Marlena cried.
Because he’s a bastard, just like every other man here!
Marlena started at the voice in her head, and stared at Ruth, but the Antari showed no evidence of having sent the telepathic thought.
“I would have endeavored to protect you from Mr. Sulu’s... habits,” Spock continued. Ruth stopped her packing and glared at him.
“Do you really think you could?” she said.
Marlena caught the gleam in Courtland’s blue eyes, saw Spock noticing it as well. “No,” he replied. “Probably not.” He paused. “But I would have made the attempt, Miss Valley.”
“And I would have been grateful, I’m sure,” Ruth returned. She faced the Equian. “I’m ready, Consigliore.”
“Very good, ma’am,” Courtland said. He took the case and trunk from the bed, while Ruth lifted an armful of clothing and her jewelry box. At the door, she suddenly turned.
“I’m sorry for you, Miss Moreau,” she said quietly. “I’m getting what I want.”
Marlena met the huge purple eyes. “So am I, Miss Valley.”
“I know. That’s why I’m sorry.”
She turned, leaving the cabin.
Spock’s quiet voice startled Marlena.
“Are you indeed, Marlena?”
She moved to him, hesitant about placing her arms around him. “Yes, I am,” she said. “I meant what I said in Sickbay.”
“As did I,” he replied. His dark eyes were thoughtful. “But do either of us really know what it is we meant?”
“I do...” Marlena began.
“Yet you resent my kindness to Ruth, words meant to reassure and explain.”
She flushed. “I was jealous,” she said. “I thought you were...”
“Propositioning her, yes. As did she. You speak of love, Marlena. Is that emotion so mistrusting?”
She hung her head. “I’m still Imperial. I’m trying...”
“Kirk wants to possess you. He calls it love. I feel anger at the thought of another touching you; I, too, want to own you. Is that love? Look at what Sulu has done to Ruth Valley, to Jilla Costain. He claims to love them.”
“He’s Imperial too...” Marlena stammered.
“My point precisely,” Spock interrupted. “We do not know of what we speak.” His eyes gazed down at her, and they were troubled, uncertain.
“I love you, Spock,” she insisted.
“And what does that mean?”
“I don’t know.”
Gage rose languidly from the couch on which he was lounging as the door chime sounded.
“Lane, darling, be a dear,” Loki called from the bath.
“Is there anyone you’ll receive, Duchessa?” he called as he strolled to the door.
“The Don, Captain Kirk...” she paused.
“...and Sulu,” Gage said with her. “He’d make a terrible Ducé you know.”
“As terrible as my first choice,” she agreed easily.
“Just so we’re in sync on that, Loki, darling.”
He heard her sultry laugh. “You’re still top of the list, Lane. Get the door.”
“Getting, Duchessa.” He stepped to the intercom, pressing the proper plate. “Who calls for Duchessa Calvario?” he asked into it.
“Commander Takeda, at the request of Don DelMonde, Terlord,” came Sulu’s deep, silky voice in answer.
Gage opened the door and stepped aside. “The Duchessa is in her bath, Commander...” he began.
“Nothing he hasn’t seen, Lane,” Loki interrupted. “Let him come.”
Gage scowled, but gestured toward the doorway. Sulu ignored him, moving past him. Once inside the bathing area, the Terran dropped to one knee, automatically kissing the hand Loki held out to him. “Duchessa,” he said, and Gage wondered at the tonelessness of the word.
She smiled. “I much prefer this greeting to the one you gave me at the Palace.”
“Expediency sometimes requires less than desirable behavior,” Sulu replied. “Surely you understand.”
“Who better than I, Sulu, dear?” She rose from the bath, the water sliding sensually from her body. “Lane, a towel, please,” she called.
Gage, knowing how Loki’s mind operated, had anticipated the request and was striding past Sulu, wrapping her figure in the thick cloth before she had finished. “Wouldn’t want you to get chilled, Duchessa,” he murmured to her.
She favored him with a smile, kissing him lightly. Then she returned her attention to Sulu, who, Lane noted, had watched the exchange with barely concealed disdain. “Now,” Loki continued as she stepped from the water, moving into the front room of the suite, “to what do I owe this visit?”
“The Don has asked me to escort you to him,” Sulu told her.
She pouted. “I was hoping you had a more personal reason, Sulu-chan.”
He did not react to the endearment, nor to the teasing. “Perhaps later, Duchessa,” he said.
The pout became a frown. “You’ve changed,” Loki stated.
“And who knows better than you, Loki, dear,” Sulu returned with a smile that didn’t touch his eyes. “If you’d be so kind as to dress, the Don is waiting.”
There was something in the Terran’s manner that made Gage’s blood run cold. His own words echoed in his mind: So, Sulu’s a mind-fucker too. The gods help them all if that were true.
Sulu left the Duchessa with Lieutenant Casey, the man he had hand-picked to guard the Don’s quarters. He could feel Loki’s eyes on his back as he strode down the corridor. Her confusion was a delicious feeling. She didn’t fear him - not yet. Perhaps she never would. It didn’t really matter to him - she was Imperial and would provide, at most a snack....
She kept him satisfied for years, didn’t she?
Did she? Then why did he turn to you?
Angrily Sulu buried the thoughts. Del would let him know if Loki Calvario was available as prey. Until such time, it was pointless to think of her.
He passed Sepak in front of Spock’s cabin. The Vulcan would be there, no doubt with Marlena. He couldn’t see the lovely Draco woman returning to Kirk’s quarters. He considered stopping, playing with his newest acquisitions. They were still unbalanced, not knowing how Del would ‘handle’ Kirk. It could be perfect.
No, perfection is what’s waiting in your cabin.
A shudder of prescient delight ran through him, and he merely nodded to Sepak as he walked the few feet to his own quarters - and Jilla and Jeremy.
As expected, Jilla waited, curled on the deck. She never approached his bed, or any of the other furniture when she had displeased him. Jeremy stood in the shadows, silent. At the opening of the door, Jilla rose, moving swiftly to him, only to drop to her knees at his feet. “I’m sorry,” she whispered.
He gazed down at her, keeping his face expressionless. “Tell me,” he said.
“I felt - pain, unbearable pain,” she answered softly. “You were hurting. I knew Ruth had betrayed you. I knew you could not harm the Don. I knew the Don would not let you harm her. I wanted to be near you, for your use in anger or comfort.”
Sulu stared, his mind working feverishly. How did you know, little one? How did you feel what I felt when I wasn’t with you, how did you know where to find me?
“I felt Ruth’s love for him in the control center on Terra,” Jilla continued, and Sulu gradually became aware that she was answering his unspoken questions. “I felt his for her. It eclipsed you and I was afraid for you.” Her voice rose, her fury becoming evident. “I tried to tell her how wrong she was, but she wouldn’t listen. The Don had taken her from you. When they joined... you felt it, it burned, I burned.” She again became quiet. “I followed the burning.”
Sulu swallowed, consumed with this new knowledge. “And Moreau, Spock?”
Jilla shivered. “She was worried about you. I... wasn’t thinking. I could feel only your pain. I told her I had to go to you...”
“She followed you,” Sulu said.
“She saw Spock. She told him there was danger to you. He asked if I could find you.” She glanced up at him, her grey eyes filled with tears. “He knew you!” She sobbed softly, the words catching in her throat. “How could he know you and not love you?”
The words seared him, making him inhale sharply. How could he know you and not love you?
“I didn’t think he would harm you,” Jilla wept, her face again turned to the deck. “I was wrong. I’m sorry, my love, I’m sorry!”
Too many reactions crowded Sulu’s thoughts and he pushed them away. He would sort and deal with them later. That there was something here beyond Jilla’s Indiian sensitivity was obvious, but to explore it now would interfere with much-deserved discipline.
“Is sorry enough, Jilla?” he asked. She shook her head. “Look at me,” he ordered. She obeyed. “Is sorry enough?”
“No, Sulu,” she whispered.
“Jeremy!” he snapped. The tall TerAfrican moved out of the shadows. “Tell my little one exactly what she did.”
Paget’s voice was without inflection, soft but not weak. “You could have gotten him killed, Miss Costain,” he said. “You could have exposed the Don to harm. You could have given Spock a lethal advantage over him and all his strategies and intentions. You could have ruined his arrangements with the Don, with Miss Valley, with Miss Moreau.” He took a slow breath. “You could have cost him his advantage over Spock, and deprived him of rightful vengeance.”
Sulu’s eyes gleamed at his bodyguard. “And what advice would you give her for the future, Jer?” he asked, just as softly.
The dark chocolate eyes closed briefly, and Paget swallowed. “Never tell anyone where the Commander is, Miss Costain, and never lead or bring anyone to him unless he has ordered you to do so. Never seek him out unless called for. Never presume he needs you.”
“Interesting,” Sulu murmured. He left Jilla kneeling on the deck, stepping slowly in front of Paget. “Would you give the same advice to yourself?”
“The first part, yes,” Paget answered unerringly. “As your personal guard, I’m charged to know your needs.”
“Did I need to have Spock and Marlena and Jilla walk into Sickbay without warning, Jeremy?”
Paget stiffened. “No, sir.”
Sulu moved behind him. “Did I need to have them walk into Sickbay at all?”
A shudder ran through the lean form. “No, sir.”
“Did you know my needs, Jer?”
“You needed Don DelMonde,” was the hoarse response.
“Did I?” Sulu rejoined. “And how, exactly, would you characterize that need?”
Paget’s skin was filming with sweat, and Sulu itched to touch it. Not yet, he told himself. “Like I need you, Boss,” Paget rasped.
Swiftly, Sulu gave the back of his left knee a sharp, hard kick. Paget went down, one lone gasp escaping him. Sulu was instantly on him, kneeling on his back, grasping the tightly curled black hair with one hand, the other closing at Paget’s throat. “Do I expose your need to your enemies, Jer?” he hissed.
“No...!” Paget managed.
“Do I leave you vulnerable to anyone but me?”
“No, Boss...!”
“You betrayed my trust, Jeremy.”
“I’m sorry...!”
“Do you deserve to live?”
“No!”
Sulu tightened his hand, reveling in Paget’s gasps for air; reveling too in the fact that the taller man didn’t even attempt to struggle away from his grip. “Should I fuck you while you’re dying, Jeremy?” he whispered fiercely, then choked off any possibility of a reply. “Cal wanted it so many times. You know that, don’t you? I was supposed to kill you, slit your throat, or your belly, or strangle you while you writhed beneath me. Perfection for him, perfection for me... and perfection for you.” He grasped more tightly, glorying in the feel of Paget’s fear. “You wanted to die every time I fucked you, didn’t you? You wanted to escape me. But you couldn’t. I wouldn’t let you. And you hate me for it, don’t you, Jer? You hate me for keeping you alive and making you want me.” He bent his head, licking at Paget’s ear. “If I kill you now, will you love me for it?”
Paget let out a strangled cry and heaved with all his strength. Sulu toppled off his back and Paget scrambled across the deck, pressing himself against the bulkhead, shaking, his eyes terrified.
Sulu slowly rose to his knees. “Are you so stupid, Jeremy?” he asked softly. He let his eyes meet his guard’s, steady and unwavering. He saw the terror fade, replaced by the ever-present wary hunger. Then Paget closed his eyes.
“You scared the shit out of me, Boss,” he rasped.
“Report to the Booth, Mr. Paget,” Sulu said. “I’ll tell the technician the duration.”
With a deep breath, Paget got to his feet. “Yes, sir. And after, sir?”
Sulu smiled. “Let’s see just how stupid you are,” he replied. Paget shuddered, then turned and left without another word.
The call to the Security Officer stationed at the Booth was perfunctory. Jilla could hear the incredulous questioning in the tone of the man upon hearing that Jeremy Paget was to be given the maximum settings for non-fatal discipline, but he didn’t have the poor judgment to voice that question to his Chief.
Sulu closed the com and turned to her. She hadn’t moved from her place on the deck. “Are you all right, little one?” he asked gently. He walked over to her, crouching down before her. She closed her eyes as he carefully lifted her chin. “Did I frighten you?”
“Yes, Sulu,” she murmured. His genuine concern for her touched her heart, and made her sorrow over her error all the more grievous. He chuckled, stroking her cheek.
“But you knew I wouldn’t really kill him, didn’t you?”
She bent her head under the caress. Was it arrogant of her to admit it? Would that be evidence of presumption? Does it matter? You must always be honest with him. To try and decide what he wants is hubris. “Yes,” she answered.
“As you know that there will be more,” he rejoined in the same, affectionate tone, “for him and for you.”
Tears filled her eyes. “Yes,” she said again.
Sulu stood, taking her hands, bringing her to stand also. “Jeremy failed in his duty,” he told her, guiding her to the bed. “His punishment will be impersonal, because duty is impersonal.”
Jilla struggled to rectify that with Sulu’s so very intimate threats, and was brought out of her thoughts as he abruptly ripped the uniform halter from her body.
“But you, little one,” he continued, his voice still soft and pleasant, “you took things into your own hands, things which shouldn’t have concerned you.” Another sharp yank, and the uniform skirt was torn from her. “You went out of your way to betray me.” She gasped at the word, ready to protest it, when he pushed her harshly to the bed. “That, little one,” he said with chilling ferocity, “is personal.”
Fear threatened her, fear of his anger, fear of non-being, fear of losing him, but the righteous denial rose in her, refusing to allow such an accusation to go unanswered.
“I did not betray you!” she cried at him, pushing herself back up. “I wanted only to ease your pain!”
“You led Spock right to me,” he reminded coldly.
Confusion and anguish swept through her. “He - he could not harm you,” she stammered.
“Very flattering, Jilla,” Sulu said. He again forced her to the bed, this time following her, one knee resting between her legs as he knelt over her. “But not very accurate.”
She closed her eyes again, the tears washing down her face. “He would not harm you,” she sobbed. She felt the anger raging through him, tinged with bitter pain, and it cut into her like a knife. “It does not matter,” she whispered brokenly. “I was wrong.” She opened her eyes, meeting his fierce gaze. “Punish me as I deserve.” More tears fell and she reached up to him, clinging to him, unable to stop the flood of grief that was only for him.
Sulu’s fury threatened to overwhelm him. How dare she argue, how dare she contradict me?
She’s telling you the truth. Indiian tia doesn’t lie.
Spock won’t harm me? Not bloody likely!
But if it’s true... Why is it true?
‘How could he know you and not love you?’
Love is evil.
She feels it, it isn’t evil to her, she can’t conceive of anyone loving and hurting...
Except you.
How, then, can she think Spock wouldn’t hurt just because he...
She accepts you, all of you, whether it not it makes sense to her.
Spock doesn’t love me.
‘How could he know you and not love you?’
She believes it.
She’s wrong.
But she believes it.
And what if she’s right?
A delicious thrill began growing in him, replacing the rage. If she’s right... if she’s right... The possibilities were magnificent, exhilarating - intoxicating. Even the act of finding out could be sheer ecstasy. Spock as a lover, controlled as Jeremy was, trapped as Jeremy was...
The urgency shot through him, heady and powerful. Jilla’s willing body opened to his savage assault. Discipline could wait. After all, if she proved to be wrong, there would only be that much more to punish.
The Don turned to the door as it slid open. Before he could rise from his chair, Ruth had dropped the clothing she carried and was in his arms, her lips finding his.
Star.
I love you!
And I love you. But you still need to rest.
He gently broke the kiss, smiling at her, aware that Courtland was bringing in the rest of her things.“Get settled in, Ruth,” he said aloud, then added, “and eat.” He glanced at his Consigliore. “Jerel, I sent for the Duchessa. She should be here momentarily. I’ll need to have a talk with you afterwards.”
“Yes, Don,” Courtland answered.
Ruth kissed him again, then climbed off his lap, retrieving her belongings and going to the screened-off sleeping area. He was re-settling himself when the door chime sounded. He nodded to Courtland, who answered the door and ushered Loki Calvario to the table at which the Don was seated.
“Duchessa, how good of you to come so quickly,” DelMonde said.
“I confess I expected to be escorted to the medical facilities,” Loki replied, her manner her charming best. “It is good to see you looking well again. When last I saw you, you were, to all appearances, gravely injured.”
“I was able to avail myself of considerable medical talent,” DelMonde returned. “Would you care for tea, Duchessa?”
“That would be lovely, Don.”
DelMonde gestured to Courtland. “Will you be so kind, Jerel?”
“By all means, Don,” Courtland said, and went to the replicator.
“How is Terlord Gage?” DelMonde continued.
Loki smiled. “Fine,” she said, then a wicked twinkle came into her eyes. “He’s healthy, too.”
DelMonde laughed, thanking Courtland as he set a tray with tea and small biscuits on the table. He poured a cup for the Duchessa and himself, then nodded at Courtland. The Equian discreetly withdrew. “On to business, Duchessa?”
Loki sipped her tea, then set down the cup. “I assume,” she began, “that you intend to let me in on whatever is going on here.”
“Simple,” DelMonde replied. “The Empire is corrupt. They disregard their allies at best, and at worst damage the strength of the whole, believing that Terra is the whole.” He took a sip of tea himself. “Rigel no longer wishes to be bound to such short-sightedness. Vulcan has been itching for a guaranteed way out. Draco chafes under Imperial rule. With certain aid, we have formed a loose, covert alliance and have obtained financing and other support, notably from Halkan, Beta Antares and Epsilon Indi.” He met her interested but cautious gaze. “It is our hope that Haven will join us.”
“You’re on the run, pardon my statement of the obvious, Don,” Loki said. “In what way is that indicative of a safe rebellion?”
“We run to a protected, inviolate base, Duchessa,” DelMonde corrected. “You may have noticed the lack of pursuit from the Empire?” He waited until she nodded. “The Enterprise is currently running under an untraceable cloak. By the time we arrive at Rigel, the technology will have been adapted to envelop our base.”
“You intend to hide the entire Rigellian system?” Loki asked, her bland tone nevertheless a serious skepticism.
DelMonde smiled. “Hardly. Only obvious targets will be cloaked. The Imperium is in chaos. It will take time before a serious, organized effort can be mounted by the Empire. The succession to the throne is never clear or assured. It is our intention to put forth a candidate that can hold the Empire together while allowing us to re-shape its internal structure. We will proceed as we have; slowly, within seemingly Imperial means. We will create blatant, expendable rebel targets to satisfy Fleet and the Warrior Elite. The Empire will be changed from within while contending with false challenges from without.”
Loki was silent, considering, for only a moment. “Do Valley and Costain know they’re the scapegoats?”
“Only if they are as intelligent as you, Duchessa,” DelMonde confessed with a charming deference, then added conspiratorially, “not a safe bet.” She smiled at the compliment.
“What’s in this for Haven, Don?” she wanted to know.
“What does Haven have to offer?” DelMonde countered.
“Good point,” Loki admitted. “Let me think about that.” She leaned forward, taking another sip of her tea. “I have a question.”
“If it’s in my power to give you an answer…” DelMonde returned, letting the rest of the sentence drop with an open-handed gesture.
“These ‘alien women’ my late husband’s murderer has brainwashed…”
“Are none of your concern, Duchessa,” DelMonde said evenly.
“As you say, Don,” Loki continued smoothly. “However, my late husband’s murderer is.”
“He has a name, as well you know,” DelMonde interrupted grimly. “I suggest you use it when in my presence.”
Loki looked surprised. “Is he yours, then?”
“That, too, is none of your concern.”
Loki frowned slightly. “For someone who wants an alliance, you’re not being very forthcoming.”
“What is it you need to know about Sulu,” DelMonde replied.
“Is he the same kind of mind-fucker the Ducé was?” she asked sharply.
DelMonde returned her hard stare with calculated calm. “No.”
“But he is a mind-fucker.”
“He has an uncanny ability to discover what needs to be discovered,” DelMonde clarified.
“Don, let me deal on the level,” Loki said, and again leaned forward. “If my late husband's murderer is anything like my late husband, relying on him, his loyalty, his word, is dangerous and stupid. If he’s half as manipulative, as cunning, as single-minded, as obsessed as the Ducé, you and your rebellion are in more trouble than you can possibly imagine. The Ducé wanted an apprentice. If he managed to create one in latency before his untimely departure from this world, and if that latency has found flower, something must be done. I know what to do.” She sat back up. “And that is what I can bring to this rebellion.”
“I appreciate the offer, Duchessa,” DelMonde said, leaning forward himself to refill her teacup. “But there is no need to be concerned about Sulu.”
“You’re aware you may be more cocky than is good for you, Don,” Loki noted.
“If I am, I won’t expect to live long enough to hear you say you told me so,” DelMonde returned. “However, I would find any information you can give me regarding the late Ducé useful. I would consider it a personal favor.” He glanced up, catching her eyes to make certain she understood. She nodded, smiling.
“Of course, Don,” was all she said, but he heard the question in her tone.
“And, in turn, out of the respect Rigel has always had for Haven,” he went on, “I would offer the chance to ascend to the throne.”
Loki nearly choked on her tea, but recovered quickly. “I beg your pardon, Don. The Imperial throne has never been occupied by anyone who was not Terran.”
“True. But if we are successful, and our candidate so elevated, he might be able to bring pressure to have his children considered, yes?” He sat back, smiling. “And if those children just happened to have Haven blood…”
“Forgive me, Don, but what Terran Imperial would have a Haven heir?”
“Perhaps one who owes his own consideration for the throne to an Imperial title acquired by marriage to a Haven. Ducé for example?”
A smile pulled at Loki’s lips. “So I marry yet another Terran commoner, elevate him to Imperial status, and he, in turn, lobbies for his son to be named Prince?”
“That was your intent with Calvario, was it not, Duchessa?”
“That bastard couldn’t get it up with a woman to save his soul,” Loki snarled. The sudden vehemence made DelMonde take note.
“But the man I have in mind can, and has proven so.”
A gleam came into Loki’s eyes. “Are we speaking of my late husband’s murderer?”
“His name, Loki!” DelMonde snapped.
“Are we?” she insisted. DelMonde remained silent, until she said, with a touch of frustrated anger, “Are we speaking of Sulu?”
“Would he be acceptable?” DelMonde returned, his voice dark and sharp.
“No. Though I’d take him as concubine any day.”
“He’d never accept such a position, Duchessa,” DelMonde countered, and he let his voice clearly convey how beneath Sulu he considered the suggestion.
Loki bristled. “And what other Terran is involved in this charade of yours DelMonde?”
“Captain Kirk.”
DelMonde watched the thoughts quickly whirling within Loki’s eyes. Then he became aware that he could hear them:
Kirk? A Starfleet brute? DelMonde must trust him. Or have an unshakeable hold on him. And he’s not noble-born. He won’t have the softness of those weaklings. Or, likely, their perversions. He’s got to be smart, or at least a good tactician, a good strategist. A better model for Ducé than Calvario. And without Imperial connections, I would still rule Haven. If he’s good in bed, I could tolerate him. And Lane will still be there as Terlord. What can Haven bring? The means to get their man on the Emperor’s throne. What is Haven offered? The chance to take – or at the very least influence – the Imperial throne for generations. No more procurer status. Real power.
“Kirk had best not expect the behavior of a Fleet slut,” she finally said out loud.
DelMonde was smiling. “I’ll make sure he doesn’t, Duchessa.”