Return to Valjiir Stories
Tongo was gone when Jeremy woke the next morning. Sulu was sitting up in bed, his arms wrapped around his knees. “You okay, babe?” the security man asked.
“Hell no,” the helmsman replied. “My stomach feels like a matter/anti-matter reactor, I’ve got a headache that could power warp drive and I can’t believe I actually licked that Flower Loony’s sweat.” He spat. “Ugh!”
Frowning, Paget removed his tiny tricorder from its hiding place in the lining of his vest. He adjusted the settings, then pointed it at Sulu.
“You’re comin’ down hard, babe,” he said, “Amber and the xenoneurophene.”
“No shit,” Sulu mumbled. “You wouldn’t happen to have anything helpful in your clandestine bag of tricks, would you?”
Paget shook his head. “No. It was risky bringin’ as much as I did.”
“You’re gonna let me have a quarter, then.” The almond eyes looked up at him, a hint of pleading in them. “Aren’t you?”
Jeremy sighed. “Sorry. Can’t risk it.”
“Jer, I’ve gotta fly my first patrol this morning,” Sulu pointed out. “I’ve done some fuckin’ crazy things, but not piloting in an unfamiliar asteroid field in a crash. And neither you nor I nor Cajun nor anybody else I trust has taken a look at those needles.” He shuddered. “Come on, babe. Just a quarter to get me through this first shift. Then I’ll have the rest of the day to come down.”
“Let me think about it,” Paget replied. “I’ve gotta call a briefing, then we’ll see how you’re doin’.”
“Slave driver,” Sulu muttered.
Jeremy shook Sakura awake. “Rise and, sunshine,” he said. “I’m gonna round up the team. Kam’s crashing, take care of him. And don’t give him any more chemicals.”
“Sure, Cobra,” she returned sleepily, but she sat up, rubbing her eyes..
“Ratfink slave driver,” Sulu called as Jeremy moved to the door of their room.
He saw Ruth first. She was sitting cross-legged, her head bent, looking over a few sheets of real, honest-to-god paper. He sauntered past her with a cheerful, “Mornin’ honey,” then whispered as he passed her, “Spike, make your way to our room.” She glanced up and smiled at him, then went back to whatever it was she was studying – but he saw the slight nod.
Daffy, too, was easy to find. She was standing next to the doorway that led to the mess hall, obviously eavesdropping.
“Anything juicy?” Paget asked as he sidled up to her.
She jumped, then turned, whacking him on the arm. “Don’t sneak up on me!” she hissed.
“Especially not when you’re bein sneaky,” he grinned. “What’s up?”
The chemist scowled, turning the faintest shade of pink. “I was trying to see if I could find out what they’ve done with the Russian loser.”
“Irina?” Jer teased. Daffy hit him again.
“No, the other one.”
The TerAfrican put his arms around her shoulders. “Well, come on, Daffodil, the team needs a briefin’.”
She sighed, and Paget smiled sympathetically at her. They walked together back toward his room and he debated whether or not to attempt to rouse DelMonde. But from the sounds he heard from behind the engineer’s closed door, Cajun was already aroused. And doing something about it.
The smell of Rigellian hit him just before the door to his room opened.
“Glory hallelujah,” Daffy said and broke from his easy embrace.
Sakura was sitting on the bed, smoke wafting merrily from the bong in her hand. She held it to Sulu’s lips, who, Paget noted, was no longer shivering.
“Jesus fucking…” Jeremy began. “Gypsy, I thought I told you…”
“No chemicals,” she said. “No amber, no xenoneurophene. But it helps the crash, you know that.”
“And I needed the help, Jer,” Sulu put in softly. “Don’t be mad at her.”
The security man sighed. “All right, just don’t do too much.”
“Gimme!” Daffy said, coming to sit beside Sakura on the bed. “I didn’t sleep a wink. Stupid Roger snores.”
“That figures,” Sulu snorted. Sakura giggled, smoke coming out of her nose.
The door behind Paget opened and closed as Ruth slipped in. She frowned at the three on the bed. “Oh, for the love of…”
“When did you get all Miss Teetotaler?” Daffy asked.
“That’s Mrs. Teetotaler,” Sulu put in, “Which is when.”
“Very funny, Roy,” Ruth snarled. She turned to Jeremy. “You wanted to talk to me?” Her eyes strayed to his arm, her eyebrows rising.
Paget shrugged. “It seemed at the time the logical thing to do,” he said and grinned at the Antari’s grimace. “They’ve all got somethin’ in the way of body paint here.”
Ruth’s gaze returned to the bed. “Isn’t it pretty?” Sakura asked, kneeling up to show off the cherry blossoms around her waist. Sulu obligingly leaned back, revealing the orchid that sprouted from his right side to spray up over his chest. “Show her the other one,” Gypsy chuckled.
“Fuck you,” was the helmsman’s response.
“Daffy’s got a daffodil,” Ruth said, certain she didn’t want to know about ‘the other one.’
Daffy pointed proudly to her upper chest. “And I told her to get butterflies,” she returned.
“It wouldn’t be a bad idea, Spike,” Jeremy rejoined.
“Oy vey,” Ruth sighed.
“We’ve gotta be quick, here,” Paget began.
“What about Del?” Ruth asked.
“I’ll find a way to talk to him later,” Jer assured. “First, I think it’s a good idea if we try not to be seen all clumped together all the time.”
“You mean like now?” Daffy said, blowing smoke out of her mouth. The security man made a face.
“Yeah, like now. Not more than two or three of us at a time. And now that we’re accepted as part of the commune…”
“Some of us anyway,” Daffy broke in again.
“… we’ve got to remember our mission. We’ve got to find out a) who’s in charge, b) who’s responsible for the change in Sevrin’s message, c) who’s implementing that change, and d) what their next move is. And we’ve got to formulate a way for Fleet to take the mastermind down before there’s any more violence.” He looked at each member of his team in turn. “Sulu, you’re already gettin’ an in with Rad, shut up Gypsy. Keep it up – no pun intended – use it, see what information you can get. He’s our first candidate for Mr. Big. Ruth, you’re rooming with Madvig. She’s candidate number two. Keep an eye on her, gain her confidence – and, I’m sorry to have to do this to you, but keep a telepathic eye on NC too.”
“I saw him last night,” Ruth said. “I know what you’re talking about.”
Paget nodded. “Okay, then, Daffy, Sakura, you’re on gossip patrol, like I said yesterday. Be very willing to listen, and nose around as much as you can for any word on plans or where certain supplies are kept or anything else useful. I’m gonna try and get close enough to Irina to find out what the hell’s happened to Chekov.” He took a breath. “We clear? We all chime? We all reach?”
“Oy,” Daffy said, rolling her eyes. “Oh, I reach, Mr. Snake-on-the-arm.”
Sakura made the One sign, then laughed, coughing out smoke.
“I’ve apparently got lots of access to speeches made in the past year,” Ruth stated. “I’m supposed to use them in preparation for some kind of sermon. I can check and see who wrote what.”
“Good girl,” Jeremy smiled approvingly, then folded his arms. “Well, come on, people! Let’s move! We’ve got jobs to do!”
As Sakura, Ruth and Daffy filed out, Sulu motioned Jeremy over to the bed. “Jer, I’m not sure how much Tongo-baiting I can do without…”
“Do what you can, babe,” Jeremy replied. “Do what you have to do. The sooner we wrap this up, the sooner you get back to little Jilla.”
Sulu sighed, nodding, then gave Jeremy a gentle kiss on the cheek.
As little as she was looking forward to working there, Daphne Gollub had to admit that there was something positively wonderful about the smell of a working kitchen. The pleasing aroma of Dreamland’s food processing facility greeted her nostrils long before she and Lace actually reached the bright yellow doors.
“It’s actually a pretty fun place to work,” Lace assured her as they entered.
The noise, color, and confusion joined the glorious smells of the place in an all-out assault on Gollub’s senses. The kitchen was a large, well-lit room full of reflective surfaces. Between fifteen to twenty people were hard at work.
At first glance, Daffy was struck by how matronly all the cooks looked. On second glance, she realized that some of these “matronly” cooks were men. It was not until she’d taken a third glance that she was able to discern that the matronly effect was a result of the unusual amount of clothing the cooks were wearing --- unusual for Loonies, that is. Apparently some genius had worked out that half naked and barefoot plus knives and boiling water equals ouch. Despite the variety of fabrics and colors employed, the kitchen workers were all dressed similarly. They were all wearing the same sort of long-sleeved, knee-length pinafores tied over their normal lack of clothing. Their feet were encased in stretchy slippers and their heads were covered in colorful turbans.
Lace pulled an apron from the rack next to the door and handed it to Daffy before waving a small dark-skinned woman over.
“This is Sister Delia,” she introduced. “And this is Daffy, one of our new sisters.”
“You a cook?” The short woman asked, reaching into her apron’s pocket for a pair of gloves to hand the new recruit.
“I’m a chemist,” Daffy informed her as Lace picked out a pair of slippers for her.
“Close enough,” Delia said, taking her by the arm and leading her forward.
“Bye!” Lace called from the doorway, looking like an anxious mother on the first day of kindergarten.
“You’re slicer-dicer today, Sister” Delia announced, showing Gollub to a long table stacked with baskets of brightly colored vegetables.
Three Sevrinites looked up from their work to smile at their new colleague.
“This is Gabi, Pag, and Jeenu,” Delia said, pointing to each as she pulled up a chair for Daffy. “If you cut yourself, there’s bandages. If you burn yourself, there’s a healing paste in that bowl. But don’t cut or burn yourself. You reach?”
“I reach,” Gollub assured her, accepting the sharp-bladed knife she was handed.
“Greetings, Sister!” Gabi was a thin, watery-eyed redhead with a big smile.
“I’m Pog,” the plump man next to her clarified, correcting Delia’s pronunciation. He had bushy eyebrows like a Catullan and the hair that hung out the back of his bandana was green.
Daffy nodded to him as she pulled up a basket of what looked like orange-striped onions and a cutting board. “Good to meet you.”
“And I’m Jeenu.” The last slicer-dicer was a hawk-faced young man with almond shaped eyes.
“I’m Daffy,” the chemist said both as an introduction and fair warning.
“Welcome!”
So far so good, she thought, then asked aloud, “Are we slicing or dicing here?”
“Cubing and coring,” Pog replied, demonstrating.
“Okay.” Daffy mimicked his movements. “Like that?”
“Smaller pieces, Sister,” Jeenu coached, slowly going through the process again.
“Like this?”
“Yes. Better.”
Daffy concentrated on getting small, consistently sized pieces before trying to work up to Gabi, Pog, and Jeenu’s speed.
“You’re getting it, Sister.” Gabi encouraged.
After her ears accustomed themselves to the bang and clatter of pots, pans, and utensils in constant action, she could discern the sound of music.
“Hey,” she said, pausing in her work as she recognized the voice singing the tune that was being broadcast. “That’s Del.”
“The new troubadour?” Gabi beamed. “Is that his name?”
“He sounds!” Pog enthused.
“He looks too,” Jeenu assured his companions.
“You know him, Sister?”
“Yeah.”
Gabi shook her head and sighed without ever slowing the stroke of her blade. “He’s wonderful!”
“Sometimes,” Gollub agreed parsimoniously.
“I heard he channeled Adam,” Pog gossiped, pushing a neat pile of diced vegetables onto the tray at the end of their table.
“You knew Adam?” Jeenu asked Daffy.
“No.” Daffy said, deciding that this would be as good a time as any to start her investigation. “And frankly, I’m a little freaked out by it. I’ve known Del since we were teenagers, and I’ve never seen him channel dead people before.”
“This place is good for espers, sister,” Pog assured her. “Lots of them develop new abilities here.”
“Why?”
“I think it’s the food,” the plump man replied, selecting a new basket.
The other two Edenites nodded sagely.
“There’s something in the food?” Daffy asked.
“No, no!” Gabi laughed as she reduced another exotic onion into a pile of cubes. “There’s nothing in the food. It’s free of the harmful chemicals the Federation soaks their food in.”
“Preservatives have an effect on extrasensory perceptions?”
“No, Sister,” Jeenu replied. “Haven’t you heard? Federation packing plants routinely put inhibiting chemicals in all foodstuffs to retard the development of extrasensory abilities.”
“Particularly Starfleet,” Pog put in. “They wouldn’t want telepaths discovering all the underhanded doings of their secret service arm, now would they?”
Daffy had to raise an eyebrow at this level of paranoia, but only replied, “I guess not. So you have lots of telepaths here?”
Gabi shrugged. “We have some from time to time.”
“Even uninhibited, such gifts are still pretty rare,” Jeenu said.
“Do you have a lot of them here now?”
“No.”
Gabi smiled. “We’ve got your Del now.”
“Yeah.” The answer had an unintentionally sinister sound in Daffy’s ears. “So what happened to them?”
“Who?”
“The other telepaths.”
The three Sevrinites looked at each other as if they’d never connected the these individuals into a cohesive group. Gabi shrugged. “Different things…”
“Espers are pretty high-stress personalities,” Pog explained. “Sensitive, you reach?”
“Yeah.”
Jeenu rested his knife for a moment and theorized, “I think that their systems are so weakened by the drugs that the Federation force feeds them that when they get here there’s only so much good food and healthy living can do for them.”
Gabi nodded. “It’s like they’re programmed to self-destruct when those Herberts are done with them.”
The two men made ‘ain’t it awful’ noises of agreement.
“You’re a chemist, right?” Pog asked Daffy. “Don’t you think that’s what it is?”
Daffy spent a moment with her mouth open before she could figure out how to respond.
“With logic like that,” Gollub said, trying hard to make her answer sound far less careful than it was. “How can I possibly argue?”
When Ruth entered her room, Kiymet was nowhere in sight. Madvig sat on the floor, piles of paper in front of her, sorting a large stack beside her. Ruth made it a point to stare at her, and keep staring, until the Sevrinite looked up.
“Something you need, sister?”
“I was just looking at your body paint,” Ruth said. “It’s pretty.”
Madvig smiled. “It’s an expression of our freedom,” she said. “We adorn our bodies the way nature adorns so many of her creatures with feathers and colors and designs.”
“I reach,” Ruth responded. “On Antares, we live so freely, we never thought of needing to show it like that.” She sighed. “I miss it.”
Madvig smiled up at her. “Sit, sister. Tell me what it’s like there. Roger always said it must be like Eden.”
Ruth nodded, settling down on the floor, setting her own sheaf of papers beside her. “It’s green,” she said. “Warm and wet – we mostly live in tree houses.” She felt no need to inform the Edenite that she’d never actually lived there. She chuckled. “We only wear clothes when there are off-worlders visiting.”
“That’s so real,” Madvig commented. “Is it true Antari hair is really a symbiotic life form?”
Ruth leaned forward. “If it is, it lives with us by its own choice. We’d never enslave another species for vanity.” She grinned. “Besides, we’d be just as gorgeous bald.”
“So true, sister,” Madvig said, but Ruth detected a touch of envy.
“Of course, I’m half Human,” Ruth demurred self-deprecatingly.
The Sevrinite leaned forward as Ruth had. “But still gorgeous,” she said.
Ruth allowed herself to blush. “Thanks. But could you… I mean everyone else here is painted. I feel – almost naked.”
Madvig laughed. “Like that would be a bad thing, sister?”
The Antari returned it. “I meant I feel out of sync. I really want to be One, in every way I can.”
Madvig rose, crossing the room to a small table, opening the drawer. “Do you have anything particular in mind, Ruth?”
“I was thinking – “ she paused. “ – butterflies.”
“Why butterflies?” the other woman asked, gathering paints and brushes.
“They’re bright and colorful and free,” Ruth returned, “and – well, Butterfly Kiting is very important to Antaris.”
“What’s Butterfly Kiting?” Madvig asked as she again sat down in front of Ruth.
“Terrans would call it hang-gliding,” she answered. “But on Antares – it’s a way to commune with the sky and the clouds and the wind.”
“That flies, sister,” Madvig murmured. Her brown eyes sparkled at the Antari. “So where do you want your butterflies?”
“How about everywhere?” Ruth said. “My temple, my arms, thighs, back, stomach…”
Madvig laughed. “I reach, sister!”
“You rang, madam?”
Ruth Valley almost started at the unexpected sound of a friendly voice. She looked up from the speech she was editing to find Daffy Gollub had entered the quarters she shared. The chemist was wearing a strange getup and carrying a small tray with what looked like lunch on it. “What’s with the room service?”
“One of the perks of having friends in low places,” her friend replied, setting the tray down before her. “Also I thought this might be best in case you went mugato-shit when…”
“When what?” Ruth asked as she removed the cover from her dish. She looked down at her plate. “What the hell is this?”
“Nice butterflies,” the chemist commented, eyeing Valley’s copiously painted body.
“This is butterflies?”
Gollub made a face. “Cute. Zugliti,” she replied, hiking up her flower-print apron so she could sit down cross-legged opposite Valley. “It’s primarily a bean paste with vegetables seasoned with something that tastes like cilantro.”
“I’m Antari,” Ruth reminded her indignantly. “Don’t they realize that I have to have protein to live?”
Daffy shrugged. “To them, bean-flesh is just as valid a form of protein as beast-flesh.”
“I can’t eat this,” Ruth said flatly. “They can’t expect me to eat this.”
“We’re on a space station in an asteroid field with people who think refrigeration is a dodgy form of mind-enslaving technology,” the chemist said, hoping her friend wouldn’t choose to kill the messenger delivering these unwelcome tidings. “So although they will indulge your barbaric desire to subjugate and kill helpless creatures for your masticating pleasure, that’s gonna be more once a week-ish rather than three times a day-ish.”
”Aarrgh!” Valley cried, throwing her head back before demanding of the ceiling. “Do I need this aggravation?”
Daffy fished a couple of compact packages from the pocket of her apron. “I managed to – and you’re welcome, by the way – scrounge some K rations for you from the Shambala. But I know you don’t like them much better.”
“Better than this…” Ruth gestured contemptuously at her plate. “Zoo glitter-y stuff.”
“Zugliti,” Gollub corrected. “With some salt it’s not so bad. Good for the complexion.”
“That’s what they say about Berengerian Dragon guano, but I’m not eating that either.”
“So,” Daffy said as she watched her friend unwrap a solid cube of animal protein. “How did the Spock thing go?”
Ruth made a face. “Let’s just say you won’t have to be breaking out the plomik soup recipes anytime soon.”
“That good, huh? How is everyone?”
“Bwana was a total Herbert jerk,” Ruth replied, careful to limit her response to things that could be harmlessly overheard. “Jilla cried.”
“I heard that Del was an ass afterwards.”
“So what’s new?”
“At least he’s got the groovy new dance tune that’s got all the kids tapping their toes.”
“And he’s going to have a hard time playing that boshzier after its been shoved up what he’s using to think with.” Ruth sighed. “Sometimes I don’t know why I love him.”
“Eh.” Gollub shrugged. “It could be worse.”
“You’re kidding,” Valley replied disbelievingly. “How could things possibly be worse?”
“Okay – and remember that I’m only telling you this to give you some perspective – because I’m sure that this is an image that will be burned into your psyche forever and may give you screaming nightmares for years to come…”
“This isn’t about cleaning toilets, is it?”
Daffy took in a deep, dramatic breath. “Stupid Roger is trying to get into my pants.”
“Eeeeewwww!”
“Yeah.” Gollub collected the tray and headed for the door. “You can’t say I didn’t warn you.”
Jeremy stretched, his hands on his hips, arching his back, then returned to his mopping with renewed vigor. I always thought Flower Loonies were dirty, bearded weirdos, he thought to himself. Who knew they were such clean bearded weirdos. He’d spend several hours moving cargo containers – mostly innocuous things like foodstuffs and botany equipment and tools – then had been told to clean up the area where the containers were stored. He hadn’t been left alone for a minute, given no opportunity to inspect the cargo he was moving, and he made a show of not being all that interested. He’d asked a few, general questions that might be expected of a new convert, but didn’t press when he was obviously stonewalled. In fact, he was careful not to give the impression that he knew he was being stonewalled. His fellow worker/clandestine guard was a short, stocky man named Fellin, his blonde hair streaked with magenta and pulled back into a haphazard braid.
“So, where are you from, brother?” Paget asked.
“Here. Everywhere,” the man grunted.
“I meant originally,” Jeremy supplied.
“Earth,” Fellin said without looking up from his task – sweeping the areas Jeremy was to mop.
“Hey, me too,” the TerAfrican replied. “Whereabouts?”
“Alabama.”
“My mama’s from there, too.”
“Really.”
“Well, she grew up there. She was born in Haiti.”
The man’s pale blue eyes flashed up at him. “Really?” he said with more interest. “I hear tell all them people got voodoo blood in ‘em.”
Paget shrugged. “She don’t like to talk much about that stuff.”
Fellin straightened, leaning on his broom. “I betcha there’s a reason for that, brother.”
Jeremy’s finely-tuned espionage senses flared within him. “She does seem to know an awful lot about it,” he confided. “I never paid too much attention. I’m a Christian.”
The Sevrinite seemed to lose interest. “Religion is the opium of the masses,” he said.
Jeremy shrugged, trying to find a way to get back the man’s attention. “She an’ my Daddy used to argue about it. I picked up some stuff, but like I said…”
It worked like a charm. “Like what?” Fellin asked.
“Mostly about their spirits and how to contact ‘em – fetishes and…” He deliberately shook his head, chuckling. “...zombies. My Daddy wanted to know what to look for in the house. He was always afraid Mama’d work some hoodoo on him.” Sorry ‘about that, Mama, Daddy. I’ll do penance for the lie later.
“And did she?” Fellin wanted to know.
“I don’t know, brother. She kept some strange herbs and roots around and – by the front door, there was always this statue of this little round guy and Mama always gave it seashells and little stones and such.”
“You ever feel anything, brother?”
“No, but then I’m mind-blind. How would I’ve known?”
“It works like that? People don’t know they been hexed?”
Again Paget shrugged.
“Hey, brother,” Fellin said, “you wanna take a break? We could get some herbal tea and some organic fruit. Give us strength for the rest of the shift.”
“Sure,” Jeremy said with a friendly smile. He tried to work out some way to steer the conversation around to asking where Irina was, when he heard the Sevrinite say. “Irina’s usually in the dining room right about now. I’m sure she’d be fascinated by this voodoo stuff.”
Thank you, Jesus, Paget thought, and nodded agreeably.
Sakura’s mind was going just a little numb from the sheer monotony of monitoring Dreamland’s communications. She was beginning to understand why Uhura was the Enterprise’s Gossip Queen. One would almost have to do something to relieve the tedium. The Rigellian she’d smoked wasn’t making it any easier. Fortunately, there wasn’t any heavy thinking required of her. Log incoming calls. Route them where requested. Send acknowledgements. She wasn’t alone – a plain-looking Cygnian girl was at the station next to her – so she couldn’t listen in on any of the conversations. Still, she hoped that in a few days, she’d be trusted enough to actually have an opportunity to do just that. She did note that there were quite a number of calls from Catulla, which would tend to confirm that the Sevrintes had a link to the Catullan government – besides the apparent importance of the ambassador’s son. Cobra would definitely be interested in that.
Her mind started to wander back to the events of the previous night. She wasn’t bothered by the casual sex – she was a Clavist after all. She reflected for a moment on the tense of that thought: were there any Clavists who really considered themselves ex-Clavists? None that she knew of. Certainly not Kam.
Kam. She both shuddered and sighed at the thought of him. She hadn’t realized he was a latent empath before this mission, but it made perfect sense. It explained how Calvario had gotten such a hold on him. And why he had always been such a perceptive and generous lover. After all, if he was able to feel what his partner enjoyed – and with his gift amped up by the xenoneurophene…
She shook her head, trying to clear it and get her mind back on her work. If there were any other interesting patterns of communications’ places of origin, she didn’t want to miss them. Still…
Lucky Jilla. Poor me.
The run was easier than Sulu had anticipated. The needles turned out to be well maintained and the piloting was second nature. The ships had better sensors than those used in racing, and he’d been told to sweep for anomalous readings as well as any unwarranted traffic or unidentified ships in the area. There were none, and he reflected that he’d somehow managed to earn a whole lot of Loonie trust just to be given this assignment. He would’ve put that down to his ploy with Tongo except for the fact that he was offered this choice before even seeing the Catullan again. But then, he was really friendly on the Enterprise, and he knew I was in the ranks of deserters, so…
He shook his head. A little lust just washes away good sense and natural caution – and who knows that better than you?
When he landed, he discovered that he was starving, and made his way to the dining hall, praying that the Eden-head infatuation with the natural life – except for recreational purposes – didn’t extend to a disdain for coffee. He was surprised, when he got to the mess, to see Jeremy seated on the floor at one of the low tables, conversing intently with Irina. Daffy should be happy, he thought. If she’s here, she can’t be screwing Chekov. Of course, she had said something about their not being as close as they once were. Which tended to beg the question of just where the hell the navigator was.
He went to the serving line – thank god, coffee! – grabbed a cup and a bowl of vegetable soup, and found a seat neither too far nor too near the mission commander.
Only minutes later he became aware of someone coming up behind him, then fingers made tentative contact with his shoulder. “Good morning, Brother Kam,” came Tongo Rad’s hesitant voice. Sulu chuckled to himself, then turned his head, smiling.
“Tong, where’d you run off to?” he asked, and stood up, hugging the Catullan with an embrace a calculated notch above friendly. He leaned close to Rad’s ear, whispering, “I thought maybe I scared you away.”
Rad shuddered, fighting the urge, Sulu could feel, to melt into the helmsman’s arms. “No, I had a meeting,” Tongo replied.
“And I’m off my assigned duty for the day,” Sulu murmured, pressing even closer.
“We just broke for a little sustenance,” the Catullan said. He stepped reluctantly from the embrace, shrugging. “I’ve got to get back.” The brown eyes looked hopefully into Sulu’s. “You understand, don’t you, Kam?”
Sulu frowned a little, letting his gaze grow hard, then deliberately sighed, deliberately relenting. “Okay, Tong. I guess an important man like you does have duties here.” He glanced down, then ran his finger down Rad’s half-naked chest and stomach, stroking the mon and willow branch on the Catullan’s abdomen. “Just don’t forget what that means, brother.”
“I won’t,” Tongo rasped, barely able to breathe for the desire pulsing in him. Sulu grinned and blew him a kiss, then turned back to his food, releasing the mesmerizing control he knew he’d been wielding.
Maybe the crash won’t be as bad as I thought, he mused. He certainly hadn’t felt this good in days.
“The legends all talk about zombies as though they’re the dead come back to life, but they’ve really just been shot up with neurotoxins. They do what they’re told because – accordin’ to my Mama’s people – they’re fed some kind of chemical that increases susceptibility, kinda like hypnosis. And that’s about the extent of what I know,” Jeremy finished, taking a drink from his cup of tea.
“That is most interesting, Jeremy,” Galliulin said. “And these priests brew these toxins themselves?”
“Well, they’d have to. Federation security wouldn’t allow stuff like that to be sold on the open market.” He sniffed disdainfully. “Too dangerous.”
“And you know all about Federation security procedures, do you not?” The Russian’s voice was gentle, but Paget could easily detect the bitterness behind it.
“Yes, ma’am, I do,” he said straightforwardly. “And if my knowledge can help you in any way, you have only to ask.”
She laughed. “There is no need to call me ma’am,” she told him. “We are all One here.”
He let a flush creep over his features. “Sorry. Old habit.”
She patted his hand. “I understand. It takes an effort to completely free oneself from the restrictive trappings of the societies in which we were raised.”
“You’re a kind woman, Irina,” Paget said. She gave a small sigh.
“If only all of your comrades could be as open to new ideas.” She stood. “Any information about the practices of Federation mind or body control can only help us avoid their traps,” she said, “And so if you remember anything more, please don’t hesitate to come to me.”
“I sure will,” Jeremy replied, also rising.
“And now we both have work to do, yes?” She smiled again, giving the One sign. Jeremy returned it and her smile brightened before she turned and left the dining hall.
Any information about the practices of Federation mind or body control can only help you avoid their traps, huh? He thought. And teach you all how to do it better, no doubt.