Return to Valjiir Stories
“Irina doesn’t look happy.”
Chekov had to suppress a shudder when he looked over to find that the Sevrinite standing next to him was Tongo Rad.
The lavender-haired Catullan narrowed his eyes at the navigator. “I wonder if she’s unhappy because she’s become suspicious of your sudden conversion, Herbert?”
“There’s no need to call me insulting names,” Chekov replied as pleasantly as he could.
“Really?” Rad crossed his arms. “Irina vouched for you personally, you know. She has taken responsibility for supervising your transition to life here.”
The navigator looked over to the place where his recently estranged lover was reclining. She sat staring vacantly into space in the midst of a clump of smiling Edenites who babbled on as if unaware of her melancholy. “That was kind of her.”
“If she becomes disenchanted with you, another council member may have to take over for her,” Rad informed him.
Chekov turned and checked to make sure that the Catullan intended this statement as the threat it sounded like.
“Someone who favors more deprogramming and indoctrination for you,” Rad said, the coldness in his eyes further confirming his animosity. “And I do mean much more intense forms of deprogramming than you’ve already experienced.”
Chekov tried to ignore the chill that settled in his guts.
The Catullan let the unpleasant range of possibilities dangle in the air between them for a few moments before finishing with a very small, very malevolent smile. “To remove all doubts.”
The navigator took in a deep breath and discarded the first four replies that came to mind. “I would think your high ideals would make you adverse to the use of torture,” he said -- very mildly, he thought.
“Torture?” Rad laughed ironically. “How easily that word drops off the lips of a member of Starfleet, the Grand Executioners of the Galaxy.”
Chekov bit his lip and turned away, not trusting himself to respond to the insult.
“Am I crossing you, Herbert?” the Catullan asked, his voice dripping contempt. “Still loyal to your masters?”
The navigator made himself count to ten. “There’s no reason to harass me.”
“Isn’t there? I wonder.” Rad smiled. “I’m almost hoping I get a chance to find out.”
“If you’ll excuse me…” Chekov said, deciding there was no option other than retreat.
Rad took him by the arm. “Remember, Herbert,” he said, smiling. “If you have nothing to hide, you have nothing to fear.”
Again, not trusting himself to reply, Chekov pulled away. He set out blindly, seeking only to put distance between himself and the loathsome Sevrinite. It was, therefore, unintentional that he ended up on the outer fringes of the area of where the musicians were playing.
“You don't realize how much I need you,” Del was singing. “Love you all the time an' never leave you.”
The navigator wondered if the song were another one of the Cajun’s heartless games. Whose emotions, he wondered, was this sentimental tune aimed to manipulate?
Please come on back to me
I'm lonely as can be
Irina looked up at him, her blue eyes full of pain.
I need you
How can he do this? Chekov wondered.
Said you had a t'ing or two to tell me
How was I to know you would upset me
I didn't realize
As I looked in your eyes
You told me
Irina’s anguish was naked, bared by Del’s song for all to see.
Oh yes, you told me
You don't want my lovin' anymore
That's when it hurt me
An' feelin' like this
I jus' can't go on any more
As Chekov watched, Irina’s face blurred in his mind with Daphne’s. The pain he had given them both united the two.
Please remember how I feel about you
I could never really live wit'out you
How can I be so cruel? the navigator asked himself, unaware of the tears starting to roll down his cheeks. How can I make her suffer so?
So come on back an' see
Jus' what you mean to me
Irina’s lips moved in sync with the words Del was singing.
I need you
DelMonde’s focus shifted beyond the problems of these petty mortals and back to his own.
But when you told me
You don't want my lovin' anymore
That's when it hurt me
The story of Pavel and Irina’s sad, doomed romance became a shadow play of his and Ruth’s sad, doomed romance.
An' feelin' like this
I jus' can't go on any more
DelMonde’s mind called to his beloved’s.
Please remember how I feel about you
I could never really live wit'out you
He begged at the firmly locked golden gates of her mind.
So come on back an' see
Jus' what you mean to me
I need you
The problem with being nearly a god, Del discovered, was that even gods didn’t get everything they wanted.
I need you
Even gods got lonely.
I need you
Even gods cried.
I need you.
Letting the rest of the band finish, DelMonde stood and turned away from where the two Russians knelt and embraced, murmuring the words of love and forgiveness to each other that the Cajun so longed to speak and hear.
Daffy was banging pots and pans and cups and plates under the guise of washing them. There was a constant stream of Yiddish obscenities mumbling from her under her breath, and Jeremy gathered his courage and his best sympathy and approached her anyway.
“Hey, Daffodil…” he began.
“Don’t even start with me, Paget!” she snapped. “I chime and I reach and all that other horseshit, but it will be a fucking cold day in hell before I stand out there and watch him fall all over Miss You Don’t Realize How Much I Need You!”
“Not so loud, Daf – “ Jer tried again.
“Fuck that! Let ‘em think I’m still connected to my negative energy!”
“Do you want a Sevrin lecture loop playin’ in your pretty little head night and day?” Paget asked grimly, folding his arms.
“Like that would be any worse,” she muttered.
“Honey, I know how you feel…”
She turned abruptly, smashing a plate on the corner of the sink. “No, you don’t!” she spat. “You don’t and the troubadour from hell doesn’t and neither does anyone else!” She glared at him. “If sweet, perfect never does a fucking thing wrong Majiir were here and had to watch Kam banging you and Sakura and Tongo and anything else that moves would you be telling her to stay frosty? No, I don’t think so. I don’t fucking think so.”
“He’s not…”
“And fuck that, too! He doesn’t have to compromise his relationship for the sake of ‘the mission’.” Her fingers made quote marks in the air. “And she isn’t here to watch him moon over his over-romanticized, existing only in his limited imagination, so fucking over first love affair! Or watch him make it not so very fucking over!”
She bent her head, and Jeremy took a step forward, intending to take her into a comforting embrace.
“I can’t do it,” she suddenly whispered. “Cobra, I can’t…”
Then she was sobbing and Jeremy was holding her. He tried to tell her that her friends would help her, that they’d all see her through it, but the words died on his lips. She was right. No one else really knew what this was costing her. I made a bad mistake, Daffodil, he thought grimly. I didn’t know it would be this bad for you. I thought you’d be able to deal. Hell, I thought your relationship with Tovarish was startin’ from a more even keel. But this is the real thing for you, ain’t it? You can’t keep this up, not if the mission is gonna succeed. And you’re right, I’d never let little Jilla go through somethin’ like this because I know how much it would hurt her – and Sulu. Never even mind how much it hurts me as it is.
So how in the name of Jesus can I let you continue to go through it?
He hushed her, letting her cry until steely sarcasm returned and she pulled away from him, sneering “sorry to sledge you, brother,” and returned to her dishwashing.
Something’s gotta be done, he told himself determinedly. Something has got to be done.
I need you.
I need you.
I need you.
The words reverberated in Ruth’s head, and as hard as she tried, she couldn’t make them go away. Del’s anguish and remorse was tangible, his lost, lonely need pulling at every fiber of her being.
“Stop, please, stop,” she begged aloud.
“Spike, you alright?” Sulu’s soft voice said above her.
She glanced up, meeting concerned almond eyes.
“He’s getting to me,” she said.
“Yeah, it’s a gift,” the helmsman snarled. He sat down beside her. “Any word from home?”
“You mean other than “breathe?” the Antari returned caustically.
Sulu bit his lower lip. “I’m sorry.”
Ruth’s eyebrows rose. “What are you sorry for?”
After a short pause, during which Sulu didn’t look at her, he took a hesitant breath. “I think – I think your pulling the need from me is what triggered the – whatever it was – with the xenoneurophene,” he confessed.
Ruth started to shake her head. “No, Roy, it’s just the…”
Then she stopped. Was that a factor? “I don’t know,” she said cautiously. “I didn’t take any of the amber, just…”
“But if it was just the…” Sulu said.
“I’ve been breathing it for a long time, and Daffy said…”
“And if my addition was the push…”
“Yeah, that makes sense, I guess, but…”
“And you can’t stop breathing, so…”
“You’re gonna have to lay off…”
“I don’t know if I…”
“Or I can’t…”
“Jesus, how am I gonna…
“Yeah.”
“Shit.” They both fell silent, then Sulu rejoined cautiously, “Uh – Ruth?”
“Yeah?”
“Did what I think just happened…”
“Something about telepaths and sensitives and toes…”
“Does it work with …”
“Maybe the xenoneurophene…”
“Shit, does that mean we can’t even…”
Ruth shoved him. “No. Just because we’re able to do a Val-keda act all of a sudden doesn’t mean you’re transferring it to me just by talking.”
Sulu had to grin at the newly coined term. “Yeah, I suppose not.” There was another long silence. “Maybe you’d better tell Spock and Jilla.”
“About the amber?” Ruth questioned dubiously.
Sulu flushed with guilt. “I don’t wanna worry her, but with it affecting you like it did…” He grimaced. “I think they have to know. It affects – well – everything.”
Ruth sighed. “I guess you’re right,” she said, and closed her eyes.
Spock.
There was no response.
Spock?
Still nothing. She concentrated, increasing her focus and the strength of the call.
Spock!
Her arms and legs started aching.
Oh shit!
Quickly she relaxed, shutting down the telepathic intent. She was shaking when she finally managed, “Roy – I can’t.”
“You can’t?” he repeated, both worried and incredulous.
“Not if I want to keep breathing,” she replied, her voice tremulous.
“Oh god,” the helmsman breathed. “Spike, we gotta get you out of here.”
Sulu quickly found Jeremy and made a subtly lewd suggestion that the TerAfrican join him and Ruth for a little ‘recreation.’ Paget’s eyes frowned, but he kept his expression otherwise eager and walked with Sulu, his arm around the helmsman’s waist.
“Okay, what’s the problem,” Jeremy asked, immediately disengaging from Sulu when they were inside Ruth’s room.
Ruth was standing, and she’d obviously been pacing, her hands clutching at her forearms. “Jer, I don’t think I’m going to be able to contact the ship anymore.”
Paget stepped up to her, taking her shoulders concernedly. “Why? What’s wrong?”
“It’s the xenoneurophene,” Sulu answered. “When she tries…”
“The poison kicks in,” Jeremy finished, then sighed deeply. His mouth moved in several, heartfelt but silent epithets.
“I’m sorry,” Sulu and Ruth said together. The mission commander waved it away.
“We’ll just have to proceed without it. I can probably get a short message off…” His voice trailed off. Then he looked at Ruth. “Should I tell them what the problem is?”
Ruth stared at the floor, chewing on her lips, then took a deep breath. “No,” she said. “They can’t do anything about it and it would only make everyone worry unnecessarily.”
Unnecessarily?” Sulu argued.
“Well, Spock already knows,” Ruth countered. “ - at least, he knows there’s something wrong with my abilities. Hell, he’s probably doing research on the damned stuff already.” She glanced at Paget. “Don’t waste the bandwidth, Jer. There’s information more critical than this.”
The security officer folded his arms. “Such as?”
“Such as what Sakura found out about the funding – particularly Admiral Glennon, and what Rad said about telepaths making people do things they didn’t want to do before.”
Paget was frowning. “And Daf managed to get into the lab here, but she hasn’t had the opportunity to report what she was able to find out – if anything.”
“All of which takes precedence over the fact that Ruth’s slowly being poisoned?” Sulu demanded.
“That can’t be helped, Roy,” Ruth tried to sooth. “Unless we scrap the mission, I’m gonna be here for a while.”
“Damn it!” the helmsman spat, turning away. Jeremy reached out, touching the Asian’s shoulder.
“Babe, as long as she doesn’t try to do anything too taxing, she should be okay.” He turned his head to Ruth. “Right, Spike?”
Ruth shrugged. “As far as I can tell, yeah. I don’t seem to feel anything – uh – poisonous – unless I exert myself.”
“Okay, Sulu?” Jeremy said, returning his attention to the Asian.
“I hate this,” Sulu growled.
“We all do, babe.”
The helmsman turned around, hugging Jeremy, then stepping forward to hug Ruth as well. “Come on, let’s make with the fucking noises before someone gets suspicious,” he muttered.
Jeremy couldn’t stop the snort. Ruth coughed, then started giggling. Sulu’s face twisted, then he, too, started chuckling. The three of them laughed and gasped and sighed and moaned for nearly an hour before deciding that enough was enough. Ruth went back to her work, and Jeremy left with his arm again around Sulu’s waist, the helmsman leaning on his shoulder.
One of us better win the Academy Award for Best Performance by a Starfleet Officer on an Undercover Mission, he thought wryly, already considering what he was going to say in the brief subspace message he knew he had to send.
“Brother Jeremy!” Tongo Rad’s voice rang out as Paget and Sulu crossed the cargo bay to the dining hall. Both men turned, and Jeremy felt Sulu’s deep breath, preparation for more of his flirtation game.
“Hey, Tong,” Sulu said, deliberately making his voice dreamy, almost slurred sensuality. “You just missed a hell of a good time.” He leered up at the security officer. ‘Didn’t he, Jer.”
“Oh hell yeah,” Jeremy murmured in response, and noted Rad’s immediate flush. Sulu apparently noted it too, for he stepped away from Paget, wrapping his arms around Rad.
“Don’t worry, baby,” he whispered. “There’s plenty left for you.”
Rad laughed nervously. “You’re wasted, Kam,” he said, then glanced up at Jeremy. “He’s wasted,” he repeated.
“You wanna put me to bed?” Sulu asked with a seductive nip at Rad’s ear.
Tongo flushed again. “Nothing better,” he managed, “but I’ve got things I have to do. Sorry.” He shrugged helplessly, but there was a puppy-dog shine in his brown eyes.
That’s right, Paget thought disdainfully, fall all over him, firmly ignoring the fact that he used to do the same sorts of things – even more firmly ignoring that if Sulu were to behave that way around him now, he’d still want to do the same sorts of things.
Sulu grinned at him from Rad’s embrace. “So do you wanna put me to bed?” he asked.
“I just did, babe,” Jeremy rejoined, then they both chuckled. Sulu turned his attention back to Rad, who giggled timidly.
“I think someone should,” the Catullan said, with a third blush.
Jeremy spotted Sakura across the dining room. “Hey, Saki, somebody needs to put Sulu to bed!”
“Ooh goodie!” she enthused, and waved a farewell to the Eden-heads she’d been talking to. She skipped up to them and eased her shoulder under Sulu’s arm. The helmsman immediately focused his seduction on her. She crooned softly to him as she ‘helped’ him stumble away towards their room. Paget watched the longing in the Catullan’s eyes as Rad’s gaze followed the two Asians, then put a friendly hand on the shorter man’s shoulder.
“She’ll just get him warmed up for later,” he whispered. Rad turned back to him with a goofy smile, then straightened and shook himself – just like a puppy – Jeremy commented internally.
“You doin’ alright, brother?” the TerAfrican asked.
“Yes, fine,” the Catullan replied, a little rough, Jeremy thought, and he seemed to shake himself a second time. “I wanted to ask you,” Tongo began again, his face becoming stern. “How well do you know Brother Pavel?”
Security instincts kicked in, and Paget replied noncommittally. “We didn’t serve on the same ship, so not very well at all.”
“So the two of you aren’t – close?”
“You mean the way Kam and I are…”
“No.” Rad looked like he was about to say something, then obviously changed his mind. “Not necessarily. I mean, are you friends?”
Paget shrugged. “Not particularly.” He paused strategically. “Why do you ask?
“I don’t trust his ‘conversion,’” Rad stated, his tone clearly putting the quotation marks around the word. “And I don’t trust him around Irina. I know you can’t be there in their – uh – private moments, but then she’s got Chione anyway. What I want, Brother Jeremy, is for you to stick close when they’re in public.”
Jeremy frowned. “Like a bodyguard?” he asked dubiously.
“You reach, brother.”
“I’m not sure I can chime with that,” Paget returned slowly. “I mean, I’ve been tryin’ to get out from under that Federation mindset…”
“You’ve been quoted as saying by any means necessary,” Rad countered harshly.
“Sure, and I meant it, for the Cause, but…”
“And Irina IS the Cause,” Rad broke in. “She’s our rallying point, she’s our – pinnacle. If anything happened to her, we’d lose half our support. She reaches like no one else. And she needs to be protected in case your little friend decides to go Herbert on us.” The brown eyes grew hard and speculative. “That is, unless you’d have trouble taking down one of your own.”
“You're ‘my own’ now,” Jeremy affirmed, and the look in his brown eyes made it obvious he was talking about more than The Cause.
“So you’ll accept this assignment?” Tongo asked. If he noticed Paget’s double meaning, it didn’t show.
“Yeah, okay,” the TerAfrican agreed reluctantly. “But I won’t kill. I’m done with that now.”
Rad smiled, a cold, almost malevolent look. “Let’s all hope that won’t ever be necessary, Brother Jeremy.” The Catullan turned and walked away, and Jeremy found himself wondering when the puppy dog had been replaced by a pit bull.
“Good Morning, cutie,” Chione said, cheerfully wrapping her arms around him.
“Don’t call me that,” he said trying to pull away.
Of course she didn’t allow that and drew him into a deep kiss instead. “Who’s Mr. Grumpy today?” she asked playfully nipping at his nose. “Are you and Reeny fighting?”
“No,” he said, putting his hands on her hips and allowing her to kiss a line down his neck – privately hoping that this would make Irina as jealous as he felt she properly should be. “Not really.”
Chione propped her chin on his shoulder. “Is our sweetie being a naughty boy today, Reeny?”
“No.” Irina’s hand was cool against the skin of his back as she leaned forward to greet her friend with a light kiss. “He’s just stubborn and argumentative by nature.”
“I think he’s just feeling restless.” Chione, voracious as ever, slipped a wanton hand underneath the cloth Chekov was wearing wrapped around his hips. “He needs some exercise to burn off all that excess energy.”
“I think so too,” Irina agreed, untying the knot that held the cloth in place and leaving her lover bare to her friend’s caresses.
“Come on, Pavel,” Chione grinned impudently as she stepped back and dropped her own garment. “It’s time for you to be of use to the commune.”
Irina was spreading soft kisses across his shoulders. “Go to her,” she whispered in his ear.
Chione took one of his hands and motioned for her friend to do the same. “I’ve got a very special work assignment for you,” she said as they lead him over to the half-wall that over looked the cargo bay. She turned, bending over to lean against the half-wall, and spread her legs.
“Come on, cutie,” she said, thrusting her plump bottom up. “Impress me.”
It was exactly the right wrong thing to say. Chekov’s temper flared as he gripped those soft, willful thighs, pushing them further apart.
A satisfying groan escaped Chione’s full lips as he entered her and began to forcefully thrust.
A desire to once and for all teach this impertinent little tramp a lesson burned through the navigator’s veins as he pounded against the pliant, inviting flesh of her rump and thighs. The quiet “Oh, oh, ohs” of pleasure she was moaning had taken on a pleasantly submissive tone before Chekov remembered that Irina was in the room.
This wasn’t the mutual lovemaking that they had engaged in before. This was him fucking her friend while she watched.
And fucking her hard, he observed silently as his rhythm increased.
After a few more moments he amended his thought to more accurately read -- Giving Irina’s friend the long, hard fuck that she deserved for teasing him and treating him like he was a toy. Chekov decided, after due consideration, that he was not at all put off by having Irina watch him do this. In fact, after the two women had gotten some breakfast for him and he’d had a chance to rest, Irina was probably going to get the same treatment herself.
He looked over to where she was sitting and saw what seemed to him to be a rather defiant smile on her face.
The same treatment. Yes. Definitely.
Jeremy had procured another four doses of kaleidoscope and he and Sulu and Sakura had spent a night reaffirming Tongo Rad’s hallucinatory relationship with the helmsman. Sulu had left for his morning patrol, Sakura for her communications gig, and he spent the better part of the day prepping Dreamland’s one large shuttle for a trip to one of the system’s inhabited planets. The Loonies were planning some sort of recruitment drive. He used the shuttles’ subspace link, carefully scrambled, to send a message to the Enterprise, then went to the mess to begin his ‘looking after Irina and Pavel” assignment.
The two Russians were reclining on a set of pillows. Irina looked happy and languidly satisfied. Pavel, for once, seemed fully into his part of the mission. The security officer watched as Daffy walked past them, carrying a tray filled with cleaning supplies. She didn’t even look at them, which could be both good and bad, Paget thought. He said a friendly hello to them both, giving the One sign. Chekov scowled at him, but the navigator’s expression quickly changed to a vacant smile before returning it and Paget nodded in silent approval. Can’t turn lead into gold overnight, he told himself philosophically, and Tovarish is at least doin’ his job now.
He went into the kitchen and stepped up behind Daffy, who was putting the supplies in their proper cabinets. He hugged her and she jumped, turning abruptly, then relaxed when she saw it was him.
“I thought I told you not to sneak up on me,” she said as she smacked his arm.
“Sorry, Daf, but we gotta chime with the vibe,” he chuckled.
“Pervert,” she returned.
“You did well out there,” Paget told her, knowing that with Daffy, approval went a much longer way than did scolding.
She scowled. “So easy it is to ignore the schmuck,” she said.
“Gotta let it happen, babe,” he reminded.
She sighed. “Easier still if I don’t have to see it.”
“It would be helpful if you’d help him, Daffodil,” he suggested gently.
“What, I should go in there and wave some pompoms and chant ‘fuck her, fuck her, go fuck!’?”
“No, but if you’d let him know it was alright…”
“It’s not,” she returned sullenly.
Jeremy sighed. “Speech number 17, Daf.”
“Yeah,” she snarled. “I reach.”
Paget mentally let it go. “So what did you learn from the lab?” he asked instead.
She frowned. “Nothing good.” She looked intently into his eyes. “Did you know Cal was an empath?”
“What?” Jeremy responded with true alarm.
“Yeah, and empaths secrete a sister-chemical to xenoneurophene. Which, by the way, is secreted by Human telepaths.”
“Secreted how?”
“Perspiration.”
“Perspiration?”
“Yeah, you know, sweat? And when telepaths get all sweaty together, they feed the xenoneurophene to each other. And when empaths get all sweaty together…”
“Stop right there,” Jeremy growled. Cal and Sulu, his brain cried, Cal and Sulu…
"Yeah, disgusting isn’t it?” Daffy returned bitterly. “The amyneurophene secreted by empaths is necessary to stabilize the xenoneurophene into a combinable form – which is necessary for the Loonies to use it to experiment on other telepaths.”
“They are deliberately pushin’ telepathic abilities, then,” Paget confirmed grimly.
“Yeah, but the experiments haven’t been too successful. Other races don’t seem to get the amperage the Loonies want, and Human telepaths burn out.” Daffy made a slicing gesture across her throat.
“How do they collect the stuff?” Jeremy asked.
Daffy gave him a detailed summary of the collection and distillation process, then mentioned that the mysterious Admiral Glennon was one of the first telepathic subjects, as Calvario had been one of the first empathic sources.
“Jesus,” Paget breathed. ‘How long as this been goin on?”
“From the dates on the records, at least ten years,” Daffy replied.
“What the hell do they hope to accomplish…” His voice faded, then he whispered, “Telepathic weapons.”
Daffy nodded. “Imagine if Cajun wanted to project ‘I hate you, I’ll kill you’ instead of just ‘here, have a little emotional trauma’ or ‘fuck me fuck me fuck me.”
Jeremy shuddered.
“Fortunately, the Loonies haven’t figured out how to make a telepath want to project ‘I hate you, I’ll kill you’ yet. All they’ve been able to do is make people want to support The Cause. Basic personality traits are left intact.” She paused, then glanced up at the security man. “But Cobra – it’s really only a matter of time.”
“And they’ll use what they can until then, and not give a damn about the telepaths they destroy.” He pursed his lips. “They aren’t makin’ crowds violent, but with mob psychology… and if a telepath is projecting ‘I want love and freedom’ around a voting booth…” He swallowed. “What does the amyneurophene do to empaths?”
“Not much – unless they get fixated on some emotion. Then it appears that they’d do anything and everything to keep that emotion going – it sort of addicts them to a particular…”
Daffy stopped speaking as Paget’s eyes closed, a whispered stream of epithets coming from his barely moving lips. Finally he opened his eyes again. “Our intel was distorted,” he said. “They had it right about the weapons, but not about what kind of weaponry we’d be lookin’ for. We handed them raw material.”
Daffy tentatively put a comforting hand on Jeremy’s arm. “You couldn’t’ve known, bubee, she murmured, then added, “maybe it’s time we call in a raid?”
The TerAfrican scowled. “Yeah, except our communications link is down. If Spike tries to contact the ship, the xenoneurophene tries to kill her.”
Daffy looked thoughtful. “It’s likely the fact that she’s half Human that’s keepin’ her alive.”
“Oh?”
“Yeah, from the trials I saw, if she were full Antari, she’d already be dead.”
“Thank you Jonathon Valley,” Jeremy muttered.
The more back logs Sakura Tamura went through, the scarier the picture became. One fact was becoming increasingly clear. Stupid Roger was up to his eyeballs in the whole thing. And far from stupid. He had degrees in chemistry, psychology, and intelligence gathering. Intelligence gathering? Roger?
Irina Galliulin was an empath.
Tongo Rad’s elusive ‘space sciences’ expertise included everything from biochemistry to engineering to communications to astronavigation. She reflected that if he’d chosen a different path, he would’ve made a brilliant a generalist as Ruth was.
Chione Zeteline was the real mystery. Any records of her upbringing on Izar were missing from the files. She’d joined the Sevrinites only a few months before the incident with the Aurora, and had apparently risen quite quickly in the ranks of the faithful. She’d been ‘close’ to Sevrin and to Adam, but had, after their deaths on the alleged ‘Eden,’ gravitated almost exclusively to Irina. If the Izarian brought any particular talents to The Cause, Sakura could find no indication of what they were.
Except maybe a giggle quotient, Tamura thought wryly.
She checked again the logs concerning the telepathic deaths, trying to correlate any patterns of particular activity just before them. The only thing that emerged was a pattern of activity just after each death. Recruitment had always been stepped up – of course, the Loonies had to replace their lab rats – and contributions or sources of funding, or political capital had increased.
They’re somehow using the telepaths to make people do what they want, she thought, then blinked in confusion. But shouldn’t that have stopped with the telepath’s death?
Or had they somehow found a way to make the telepathic suggestion permanent?
She heard the voices of Tongo and Roger and quickly closed the files, erasing the record of her access. She only hoped Daffy’s study of the chemistry could offer some enlightenment.
“Do you know that boy?”
“Boy?” Chekov repeated, much preferring to follow Chione’s finger as she indicated someone in the cargo bay below the viewport in Irina’s quarters than to look at her face. It was hard to remember a time that he had felt more ashamed of himself. Although his memory of his transgressions was not entirely coherent, it was clear enough. He had been like a thing possessed, going on for what seemed like hours. What he had done had not been as reprehensible as the manner in which he had done it – ordering the two women about, speaking to them in a degrading manner, calling them sluts, whores, and worse in a variety of languages, forcing one to assist while he held the other down and… The navigator winced silently. On second thought, his actions had been far from praiseworthy as well.
He had apologized to both women for his inexcusable behavior as soon as he had regained his senses. They had been remarkably understanding and had even laughed and joked about it as if the three of them had only been indulging in an erotic role-playing game. Each had given him her own version of the dictum Daphne employed for adult diversions – “No harm. No foul.”
Chekov knew it had been no game, though. Something dark had risen up inside him and taken over direction of his actions. Was that role-playing? To allow the hidden foulness inside one to take control? The navigator didn’t wish to believe he even secretly harbored the violent, angry greed towards women that had taken him over. He couldn’t remember ever having…
Oh, but there had been the one time he didn’t remember, hadn’t there?
Chekov had no clear memory of the things he thought and did the time that an energy being had invaded the Enterprise and tricked them into taking Klingons on board. Records indicated that he had done terrible things, though. There had been the female Klingonese Science Officer who he had tried to…
“The black-eyed boy,” Chione was saying. “The one who plays.” The blonde leaned in further, her breasts pressing against the port beside him.
It was intensely uncomfortable to be near her. The guilt over what he had done competed against his fear that a similar madness would overtake him again. Chekov had to swallow before he could answer. “That’s Noel DelMonde.”
“Do you know him?”
The navigator nodded. “We shared a cabin.”
She gave him her wicked dimpled grin. “Oh, then you really, really know him, don’t you?”
“He means that the two of them were roommates, Chione.” Irina’s voice, although mild, was a fraction less patient than usual, as she came to stand at Chekov’s other side. “That’s all.”
The blonde rolled her eyes and gave a dubious giggle. “Sure.”
“Why do you ask?” The navigator asked, hoping it would not seem obvious that he was turning towards Chione to avoid the hand Irina was about to place on his shoulder.
Chione tilted her head to one side and smiled as she very purposefully reached out and took his hand. “We need a favor from you.”
Her touch made him feel ill, but he couldn’t politely pull away.
“The black-eyed boy,” the blonde was saying, “we want him…”
“We want him to play for us at the rally,” Irina finished over her friend.
“Rally?” Chekov was grateful to have an excuse to reclaim his hand and turn away.
“Yes,” Despite her physical proximity, Irina seemed more distant than usual. “We have scheduled a demonstration on Coltrada in support of our Cause. You will be attending too, Pasha.”
Both women were now too close to him. He was backed up against the viewport with no room for retreat. If the port had been a real window, he would have been sorely tempted to jump. “Will I?”
“Of course, cutie.” Chione grinned as she wrapped both of her arms around his and propped her head on his shoulder. “We’re so proud of our new brothers and sisters. We want to show them off to everyone.”
“Oh, I see,” Chekov said grimly. “You wish to put us on display -- A nice collection of ex-Starfleet officers to parade before the media.”
The women were silent for a moment.
“There’s no need to be angry, Pavel Andrevitch,” Irina said quietly.
Chione dropped back so that she was only touching his fingertips. “You’re…” she began, her voice a little tremulous. “You’re not going to be mean to us again, are you?”
“No, no. Of course not,” Chekov hastened to reassure them, horrified at their reaction. “I have apologized… And I assure you I truly am sorry… And promise you it won’t happen again… I was only…. That is to say, I…” The navigator had to turn away from their eyes. “I did not mean to… I will do whatever you think best… whatever you say, of course…”
Behind his back, Irina did not return her friend’s triumphant smile.
Go To Part Fifteen
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I Need You by George Harrison