Moreau relaxed on her bed, sipping at a glass of brandy while Jim was in the shower. She’d had a good time today, no worries or distractions. No business. It hadn’t been this good for a long time. She smiled, thinking again of Jim’s interaction with Terlord Hasim, of his confidence in returning to Darius. This hadn’t been easy for him. He hadn’t been touched, he had been forced into this conspiracy of theirs. It was either that, or Spock would have had no choice but to kill him. But he had tried, even though, without the understanding, it was a terrible strain. Especially for a man like Jim Kirk. He was proud, vain, egotistical. He was a bully, if truth be told. He needed to be obeyed, needed to control and dominate those around him. Submitting to someone else’s wishes, submerging his own ambition, was the hardest thing he’d ever had to do. She was proud of him.
Proud, Marlena? Is that all?
Yes, she answered the Imperial voice within her. That was all it had been since he had come. How could it be more, knowing what he is, knowing what he could be? Sometimes, she reflected, ignorance is bliss. Before, she hadn’t known, didn’t care. She could hate him, fear him, and still sleep with him. Then a miracle had fallen from the skies over Halkan, the Federation James Kirk. Now she knew what he was, cared about what he was, and she couldn’t force herself to give him a lie. I don’t love you, Jim. I never did. And I can’t do it anymore. How long had it been? A year, more. He was trying with that, too. He’d raped her a few times, but they’d both known that’s what it had been. And she refused to let it change what had to be. How strange. How sad. For in orbit around Halkan, for the first time in her life, she’d loved Jim Kirk, and that love now prevented her from making love with him. But that Jim Kirk was gone, and she had to deal with what was left. She adjusted the folds of her robe and got up to get another glass from the replicator as she heard the shower being turned off.
Kirk dried off quickly, then stood in the doorway, watching Marlena. She was beautiful, more beautiful now than when he’d first seen her, on the arm of that bastard, Commander Fuller. She was so exotic, so different, always different from any other woman in the Empire. He’d wanted her then, he wanted her now. Only now, they were ‘friends.’ He couldn’t force a ‘friend’ into something she didn’t want, or so he’d been told. There were times in the last few months he’d damned his weakness for getting involved in this whole mess simply because it had lost him Marlena. Odd, before it had happened there had been tension between them. She had been afraid he was going to get rid of her. He had been afraid that he was becoming too complacent, had thought of getting rid of her for just that reason. A man, especially one in his position, couldn’t afford emotional laxity. He’d learned differently. He even learned that he could afford `friends:’ Marlena, Spock, Sulu. Well, maybe not Sulu, he thought, then chuckled. A plot to take control of an Empire based on friendship. Who would believe it? He certainly wouldn’t have, not until it happened.
Of course, it wasn’t easy. He was used to women who obeyed, women who schemed to find the most powerful protector. A woman such as Marlena had become was beyond his understanding. He admired her, appreciated her. He still wanted her, badly. The presents from the Senators had been just what he’d needed to keep his mind off of Marlena. He needed something to own, something that belonged to him, something he could dominate and control because he couldn’t do that to Marlena anymore, or to Spock, or even to Sulu. His orders were obeyed because they didn’t interfere with the plan, and kept up the necessary appearances. That was hard, frustrating. Valley and Costain provided him with the release of that frustration. Without that release, he knew, his ‘friends’ would very quickly find ample reason to dispose of him. And he wouldn’t even blame them.
The thought startled him, then he grinned to himself. He’d changed more than even he had been aware of. He’d been gentler with the Senators’ daughters than he would have imagined he could be. Marlena’s doing, he was certain. He was going soft and it pleased her. If she’s so damned pleased, why in Tartarus won’t she sleep with me? he thought bitterly. Or would she? It had been a while since he’d attempted it. And she’d been very warm, very affectionate the last few days. If she said no, well, then, she’d say no. But he’d never know unless he tried.
She turned from the replicator, and he smiled. “You’re beautiful, Marlena.”
She returned his smile and handed him the drink. “Thank you, Jim.”
“The most beautiful woman on the ship,” he continued.
Her smile faded just a bit. “Jim...” she began.
“I mean it,” he said, and scowled faintly. “And that’s all I mean. You are beautiful and I like telling you so.” He crossed the room, sitting down on the bed. “Nothing wrong with that, is there?”
Her face looked properly chagrined. “Of course not. I’m sorry.”
“You’re beautiful.”
She laughed and knelt beside him, her hands on his back and shoulders, completing the ritual of shower and massage.
“That feels good, Marlena.” Jim leaned back into the strong fingers and sighed contentedly. “Wonderful.”
“Thank you,” she murmured in reply. “It’s good to have some time to relax.”
“Mmmm,” he answered. After a short silence, he said, quietly. “Of course, it’s all business. Always has been, always will be. It’s hard work, staying alive.” He felt the pause in Marlena’s hands.
“You don’t often talk that way,” she said, just as quiet.
“No,” he acknowledged. “No reason to be honest most of the time.” There was a moment’s hesitation before she answered.
“Why now?”
He shrugged. “Like you said, it’s good to relax. Do it much, or for long, and you’re dead. But you can relax with those you trust.” He turned to face her. “We trust each other, don’t we, Marlena?”
“You can trust me.”
Jim laughed. “And Spock. Tell me, do we trust Sulu yet?”
“I do. It’s up to you whether...” Marlena began, obviously not seeing the humor.
“No, it isn’t,” Jim said, his eyes explaining the gentle irony. “Not really.” He paused. “But I don’t mind. I’m richer, more secure than I have been in years. On my ship, no one can touch me.” There was another pause. “As long as I play by the rules.”
There’s no use arguing, Marlena thought. It’s the truth, and he knows it. I’d only be flattering him, empty flattery, if I said any differently. He’s being so open, I don’t want to spoil that. “We all have to play by the rules, Jim,” she said.
“I suppose. Anyway, it’s good, once in a while, to pretend we don’t.” He stretched, pulling her down into his arms. The embrace was short, but strong. “It’s good to have you here, Marlena.”
She smiled, liking the easy, boyish grin. “It’s good to be here, Jim.”
“Is it?” he asked. For once, it was a simple question, no innuendo, no hidden meanings. An honest, guileless inquiry. It deserved an honest answer.
“Sometimes,” she replied, meeting his eyes. Hazel anger washed through him, then amused bitterness, then resignation.
“Sometimes,” he repeated. “Well, that’s better than nothing. Business. As usual.” He got up, crossed the room to the replicator. “Another drink, Marlena?”
She stared at his back. There was a twinge of sympathy steadily building into guilt inside of her. It had been three days since he’d given Valley and Costain to Sulu. He’d slept here, with her, not touching her, every night. Each day was spent on Darius, playing Captain and Captain’s Woman. Not easy for a man like Jim. She sighed, trying to shake off the contrition. “Jim, I...”
“No, it’s all right,” he interrupted quickly. “Do you want another drink?”
“Damnit, don’t do this to me,” she muttered.
He pivoted to face her. “Don’t do this to you? What in Tartarus is it doing to you?”
“You’re making me feel...”
“Guilty? Sorry, dear, that’s your problem.” He turned again, mumbling. “You’d think I was asking for a damn miracle...” He stopped, took a deep breath, then came back to the bed. “Maybe I am,” he said, staring down at her. “Marlena, would it be so difficult? You used to enjoy it.”
She looked up at him, a smile pulling at her lips. “It won’t work, Jim.”
“What won’t work?” he said, but he, too, was fighting a smile.
“James Tiberius...”
“Okay. Can’t blame a man for trying,” he replied jovially, but she saw the bitterness twist into him as he lay back down. Best to change the subject.
“Anything important brewing while the head cat’s been enjoying himself on leave?” she asked.
“McCoy’s been complaining about Sulu,” Jim answered.
“We should watch that viper,” Marlena commented. “Hatred drives men to do stupid things.”
“Like keep company with Uhura,” Jim agreed.
“Is she troublesome?”
“Not yet. She’s being watched.”
Silence settled between them, a comfortable silence. After a few moments, Jim reached up, lazily pulling Marlena down beside him. She glanced sharply at him and he sighed and held out his hands, palms up. “Look,” he said, “no hands.” She smiled, nodded, and lay down next to him. He kissed her forehead, then placed his arms above his head.
“I’m glad you didn’t kill them,” she said softly. They both knew who she meant.
He grunted noncommittally, then grinned. “Maybe I’m learning to be merciful. Like your Jim.”
She gazed at him. “Thank you for trying. It’s not easy, not for any of us.”
“Sometimes I wonder why,” he mused, “then other times I almost see your point. I even occasionally think I’m getting the hang of it. Why didn’t I kill them? Am I really changing? I didn’t even consider killing them.”
“Mercy?” Marlena suggested.
“Or the fact that they’re more valuable to me alive,” was the cynical response.
She smiled. “Are they?”
Jim rolled to his side, raising himself on one elbow. “If I had you, I wouldn’t need anyone else,” he said quietly.
Her eyes became guarded. “Jim...”
He sighed. “Yeah, I know. Goodnight, Marlena.”
“Goodnight, Jim,” she replied, hiding a sigh of her own.
“Spock?”
Spock looked up from his desk, then stood. “Marlena, come in.”
Moreau smiled. “Thank you.”
“Forgive my inattention...” Spock began.
“It’s all right. I know you’ve been preoccupied.” She smiled again. “Chapel has made that quite clear.”
Spock scowled. “Dear Christine.”
Marlena moved closer. “I wish you didn’t have to put up with her.”
His expression softened. “As do I.”
“Not that it would matter,” she sighed. “Jim would never let me go.”
Spock nodded ruefully. “And we must all show concern for one another or our organization will topple.”
Marlena was silent for a moment. When she spoke again, her voice was soft and faintly suggestive. “Jim’s planetside,” she said. “He will be all morning. Ego-placating with old acquaintances.”
The glint in Spock’s eyes reflected her tone. “I sent Christine shopping with Uhura.”
Business returned to Marlena’s face. “Is that safe?” she asked.
Spock did not allow his gaze to leave her eyes. “Christine is no threat, Marlena,” he murmured.
She relaxed, her voice again becoming soft. “Of course not.”
“We are quite alone.”
“Quite.”
“There will be no one to disturb us for several hours.”
“No one.”
“Marlena...”
“Yes.”
Jilla opened her eyes, waiting for the rush of fear that she knew wouldn’t come. There was nothing. She was dull, empty, not even aching. She tried to sit up, and found that her legs were again tied, splayed apart. It sent a chill through her that lasted only a second, but she devoured the sensation greedily. It left her worse off than before, the numbness more intense for the momentary respite. Aema, to feel... No. Nothing. There was no pain, no terror. Just the dark, sterile cocoon and the slow, constant panic that drove her to find a way out, any way out. There was one answer, only one.
Sulu, please help me.
She shook the damp hair from her eyes, searching the room. She called softly, hesitantly, “Sulu?”
The voice that answered her was deep and rich, the sound of velvet and dark satin. “What is it, Jilla?”
Her breath came in shudders. Sulu! Joy and life and being, blessed being! “I want...” she began. A stab of a different sort of panic pierced her. Pick up the tamer echoed within her, and memories of excruciating pain. Black emptiness again shrouded her, deepening, impenetrable. “Sulu!” came the desperate, involuntary cry.
A figure knelt over her, a hand gently brushing strands of hair from her face. “What’s wrong, little one?” A low, caring question, dulcet tones of existence. The sweetness flowed into her. “What do you want?”
“You,” she said, but it was a whisper and a part of her was filled with fear.
Sulu got up and the life-giving voice was harsh and reproving. “You don’t mean that.”
I do, I do, Sulu, don’t leave me! She wanted to shout, but only a whimper of helplessness escaped her throat as the emptiness surrounded her. She heard his sigh, a death knell, as he turned to go. “Please,” she moaned, her own voice dull, numbed, sure it would do no good. But he turned back, staring down at her, hard and unrelenting.
“Please what?” he asked.
The fear welled up in her, but this time she fought it. It doesn’t matter! she hissed at herself. Let him do what he wants, you’re feeling! He’ll let you feel, let you be. He’ll let you live!
He’ll hurt me!
“Which is it, Jilla?” Sulu said.
She stared in confusion, then realized that she had been sobbing out loud. She swallowed against the fear. “Let me live,” she whispered. “Let me feel.”
“Aren’t you?” came the soft reply. “Aren’t you feeling now?”
Yes! screeched inside her, but the edges of darkness threatened and she answered him humbly.
“Only because of you, because you’re here.”
He shook his head. “Your face gives away too much, little one,” he said. “You don’t mean that, either.”
“I do,” she whispered fiercely, then fought down all else, making it the truth. Didn’t his voice give her substance, his smile, his touch give her form? Didn’t the pain he caused, the silvery warmth of blood, the unending agony of the Booth or the tamer give her reality? Didn’t the pleasure of his kiss, the ecstasy of his touch, the blinding passion of the climaxes he wrenched from her give her meaning? There was nothing else, no existence anywhere else, from anything else. What difference did it make whether he gave pain or pleasure; he was giving, he let her feel! Such joy, such ferocity, strong, powerful inexhaustible. He was life, and he gave her life. What was pain? She could feel it, that was all that mattered.
Memory assailed her, his darting tongue a needle of fire; his body between her thighs, her legs around him, the potency, the endurance; the deep, lustful kisses, his heady groans of pleasure, hands clutching, bringing her with him into mindless storms of orgasm that were as much for her as for himself. What more can you want, what more do you need? Just Sulu, always Sulu, forever.
She gazed at him, her face open, naked, totally submissive. “I do, Sulu,” she said. “Please, I do.” He inclined his head to one side, skeptically. “I’ll prove it,” she continued, daring to be bold. “Any way you want. Anything you want.” Quiet desperation burned in her mind, begging him to keep her alive. He smiled and she almost gasped with the emotion that raced to her with it, letting it fill her. But he shook his head again and she froze, the emptiness pulling it away from her.
“You’re still fighting me, Jilla,” he said.
“No, not you,” she moaned. “Only myself.”
“I can’t help you unless you’re ready to accept it.”
“I want to!”
He knelt down again. “Wanting isn’t enough.”
She swallowed, suddenly ashamed of the fear inside her. What right did she have to fear him? What would she be without him? She closed her eyes, tears washing down her cheeks with guilt and remorse. “Will you help me?” she begged quietly.
“Help you what?”
“Overcome the fear...”
“What happens when you disobey me?” he cut in.
She felt the darkness coming closer. “You hurt me,” she sobbed.
“Do I?”
The panic throbbed inside her. “You go away!”
He smiled. “Ah, that’s how I hurt you, is it?” She nodded mutely. “Then how should I help you?”
Her answer was a whisper. “Stay.”
“Just ‘stay’?”
There was no hesitation, no holding back. “Let me be yours,” Jilla said.
“Now that I think you mean.”
Relief flooded her, joy and being as Sulu lightly kissed her forehead. It was so simple now. No worry. No fear. There was a place for her away from the nothingness. There was Sulu. She was his.
Spock lay with his eyes closed, stroking Marlena’s cool, bare, shoulder. He was content to allow her to rest on top of him. Her skin was damp against his, her breathing deep and even, the scent of her body both soothing and arousing. “There is something in my quarters that will make you invincible.” You didn’t mean Marlena, Captain Kirk, but you could have. With her to aid and support me, I am invincible. Certainly, if she had been against me, Kirk would have killed me. He would, even now, I think, if he knew. If he even suspected, we would have to cease immediately. Marlena sighed and moved off of him, settling comfortably in the crook of his arm, her hair teasing his skin. He smiled. May he never suspect. There were not often times like this, leisured, unhurried. Marlena did not come to him often, neither of them could afford such a risk. When she did, business usually took precedence, with only scant minutes for the physical, if, indeed, there were any time at all. To have these hours was precious, and it made their goal all the more important. The thought of existing in a galaxy that always had time for caring.... ‘One man with a vision...’
Which will remain so if you allow yourself these reveries, he reminded himself. He cleared his mind of pleasant daydreams and began fitting pieces. Hasim and Halkan and Rigel and DelMonde, all were falling neatly into place. Another six months, a year, and the alliance would be strong indeed. Draco, too, would be a certainty, one way or the other. And with Valley and Costain firmly under thumb...
He frowned as the nagging question returned. Why? The Senators’ daughters made no sense. He had missed something, analyzed incorrectly. They should be simple: one and one. But they were adding up to considerably more than two. Impossible. Illogical. Stubbornly veritable.
Marlena sat up, pushing her hair from her eyes. She felt fulfilled, renewed. And guilty. Jim’s gentleness and honest desire had aroused her and she’d gone to Spock to release it. Why hadn’t she just kept Jim in bed this morning? I don’t love Jim.
Do you love Spock?
Did she? No, not exactly. Then why? Because Spock was a link to him. Spock knew, Spock felt like he had. And what about Sulu? There’s no refusing Sulu. Especially since he knows about Spock, right? Again she wondered how he had known. The answer was probably simple. A good security man had to know everything. But he hadn’t used it, and that was what was important. She trusted him not to. Trust. That was the key to all of it. And aren’t you betraying Jim’s?
No, this is personal, she justified it to herself. It doesn’t affect business. That’s part of all this, too, the divorce of personal from political. Jim would understand.... no, he wouldn’t. Not yet. Not like Spock does. And that was why. Spock understood. He was there when she needed him, sexually or otherwise. He never asked or demanded as Jim did. He waited and was patient and never burdened her with it. Politics, even when they discussed business, never entered into it. He slept with her because he enjoyed her and accepted that she had the same prerogative. It was Spock who kept her sane, who reassured her that what they were doing was right. It was Spock who had convinced her that they could, if they were careful, actually succeed. Spock never took more than was offered. He gave whatever was needed, and all the time remained in control of the relationship. Just as she did. Given time, and freedom, she knew that she could love him. That was what she wanted more than anything else: the freedom to chose who she loved. And for Spock, the freedom to control his own life.
Impulsively, Marlena stretched out again. There were still hours before she had to leave. She reached out, gently stroking Spock’s chest. She was surprised when he didn’t respond, and tried again, nuzzling to his throat. He seemed unaware of her presence. She sighed, and sat up again.
“I see what Chapel means,” she said.
Spock acknowledged the comment with a barely audible, “Hmm.”
“Preoccupied,” she replied, certain he wouldn’t hear her. He glanced up, then seemed to become aware and sat up beside her.
“Forgive me, Marlena,” he said. His eyes were vaguely troubled, and she pulled the sheets around her.
“What about?” she asked, all seriousness.
“Valley and Costain.”
She took a deep breath, letting it out in a sigh. “Their behavior is puzzling,” she agreed. “But Jim said they were out to discredit him. If those were my orders, I think I would have acted a bit puzzling too.”
“Except they were not trying to discredit him, or anyone,” Spock said gravely. “They were trying to escape.”
Marlena blinked incredulously, then asked, “From what?”
“Pain. Fear.”
She considered this for a moment, gazing at nothing as she went back over all the notes she had made concerning the Senators’ daughters. “That makes very little sense, Spock.”
“I know,” he mused. “Yet, it is the truth.”
She shook her head. “I don’t understand.”
“Nor do I. That is why I have been preoccupied.”
They both thought in silence for a few moments, then Marlena said, “How can you be sure of their motivation?”
“I asked them,” he replied, “and I am convinced of the veracity of their answers. There is something about them that is very, very wrong. Behavior, incidents, clues - none of it correlates as it should.”
Marlena listened, confused, as Spock related the incidents on Darius and after. He told her what few facts he knew, confided his suspicions and his puzzlement. He had no conclusions to offer other than no explanation he had so far examined satisfied him.
“They’re not trained,” Marlena mused. “Not to please men at any rate. So they are clearly not what we thought they were. Costain at least is apparently a skilled technician. The question is, how did she get that way? Why would someone educate an Indiian or an Antari?”
“Why is, for the moment, more crucial to us than how. What were they given for?” Spock had steepled his fingers, was staring over them.
Marlena inclined her head. “We can ask them.” Spock began a protest and she went on. “I know, Jim said to wait and let them make an irreversible move. Haven’t they?”
Spock reflected for a moment. “It would appear so,” he said cautiously. “And yet, they did not seem to realize it, or regard it as such. They were frightened beyond my comprehension, yet it was not of being discovered. They feared punishment, but as a child would, not totally understanding what was being punished.”
Marlena looked completely baffled. “Are they simply stupid, then?”
He shook his head. “I cannot believe so. However, let us, for the moment, say that this is true. How did they survive so ignorant, yet skilled in technology? How did Valley exist, an Antari in a Terran household, and yet be able to claim no one had ever injured her? Who would have seen a mechanical inclination in a woman, an Indiian, and train it? For what purpose?”
“It must have been what some man wanted. That’s how women get to be what they are.” Except, of course, for me, Marlena added silently. She glanced up. Spock was studying her closely.
“But what Imperial man would want women such as they?” he asked pointedly.
“None,” she replied simply, then met Spock’s gaze. The thought formed in her mind, but she rejected it almost immediately. Then she caught sight of the same idea in Spock’s eyes. “Then how...” she began, almost involuntarily. Spock’s reply was soft and full of meaning.
Perhaps, Marlena, as you did.”