Return to Valjiir Stories
Daffy had entered as much of the information from Dreamland’s lab as she could remember. She’d still had the residue from the Haven chemicals in the waistband of her Loonie outfit, and a few stray leaves of the Rigellian, and the Enterprise’s chemical analyzer was much more sensitive than had been Paget’s mini-tricorder. As the information began spewing out, she chewed on her stylus, frowning. Something wasn’t adding up. The xenoneurophene and amyneurophene were just as she had deduced, but there was something else present, something more than the agents added to front and backload the Haven drugs. It wasn’t in the Rigellian, though.
“Computer,” she said, “identify unknown substance in sample A.”
“Four previously unidentified substances present in sample A,” the computer responded. “Specify.”
“Give me all four,” Daffy instructed.
“Adipocere, formalin, necrogeneous psilocybin, tetrodotoxin,” the computer informed her.
Daffy blinked. Adipocere? Formalin? Necrogeneous psilocybin? Tetrodotoxin? “Are you sure?” she said aloud.
“Identification confirmed,” the computer assured.
The chemist sat back in the sickbay bed to which she was still confined. McCoy had allowed her a computer terminal due to the serious and immediate nature of the threat to the undercover party, but he wasn’t happy about her slower-than-normal recovery. And if she got too stressed, the monitors above the bed would start beeping ominously. Still, she couldn’t stop her heart from racing.
Of the four substances, three were puzzling, and a little gruesome, but not in and of themselves anything to be overly concerned about. Adipocere was what was commonly called ‘grave wax,’ a substance left on a corpse that had been in water or very moist soil. Formalin was a tissue preservative, containing formaldehyde and water. Necrogeneous psilocybin would certainly enhance psychedelic properties and was kind of gross, seeing as how it came from a certain fungus growing on or around decaying bodies. But tetrodotoxin…
Daffy shivered. That was one of the most deadly poisons known to Terran science. It was the legendary puffer-fish neurotoxin, causing paralysis of all manner of bodily functions, depending on the dosage and purity, particularly of the respiratory system….
And Ruth stopped breathing.
Were the stupid Loonies fooling around with neurotoxins just to enhance a kick?
No, to control telepaths.
But if they’re using tetrodotoxin, shouldn’t they all be dead?
And what’s with the adipocere and the formalin and…
Dead bodies. Corpses. Dead telepaths.
There was something there, but Daffy was getting dizzy. She again fell back on the sickbay bed, and heard the alarm go off. Christine Chapel hurried in, and just before she passed out, Daffy managed weakly, “Get Mr. Spock.”
Sakura attached the tiny tricorder to her earpiece and again called up Dreamland’s personnel records. The information on the founders of the Base was recorded, then the experimental data, then the results of those trials along with the identities of the dead telepaths. She tapped into the financial records, then the lab’s computers. Something caught her attention and she slowed the playback, listening.
…without the disabling of the voltage-gated sodium channels supplied by the neurotoxin. When combined with an equal amount of both a general stimulent and a mild narcotic, which gives, appropriately enough, a calming blue tint, the effect can be less lethal, with a faster absorbtion rate, but will also leech out of the system more quickly…
She hadn’t quite recorded all she wanted to when Phen casually strolled into the communication’s center. She quickly altered the computer feed, then turned, smiling at him, casually reaching up to disengage the earpiece from the tricorder, just as easily palming the miniature device.
“Hey, Phen,” she said.
The Sevrinite leaned down, giving her a kiss on the cheek. “Hey, Saki,” he returned. “You hear the news?”
“What news?”
“Ruth was in contact with Daffy’s spirit.”
Sakura made her face take on a sad, wistful expression. “Is she at peace, brother?” she asked.
“She’s ascended,” Phen replied. Then he smiled at her again. “Maybe she’s with Adam and Dr. Sevrin.”
Tamura grinned, knowing how much at peace any of them would be were Daffy really with them. “That would so transcend,” she beamed.
“Whatcha doin’?” the blue-skinned young man asked as he leaned down to her screen.
“Checking to see if anyone at the rally was reaching out to us,” she said. “Sometimes people need a little space to get the message, you chime?”
Phen smiled at her, kissing the top of her head. “You’re a real gem, Saki,” he murmured. “We’re so lucky to have you.” He chuckled, “O’ course, anyone would be lucky to have you.”
The yeoman giggled. “You feel free anytime, Phen-Phen.”
His face took on an eager expression. “Now?”
“Sure. Just let me share the transcendence with Ruth and I’ll meet you in your cabin.” She stood, kissing him, then stepped gaily from the communications center.
Ruth was still sitting with DelMonde, leaning against his back as he played with the boshzier.
“Spike, you reached Daffy’s spirit!” Sakura enthused as she rushed up to give the Antari a joyous embrace. When her head was close to Ruth’s ear, she whispered. “Here’s the tricorder, I’ve got it keyed to a part I want you to hear.” And she pressed the small device into the science officer’s hand under the pretense of clasping it.
Ruth hugged the yeoman in return. “Did you hear? She’s home!”
“Phen said she’s ascended,” Sakura beamed.
“It was wonderful,” Ruth returned. “Truly overwhelming.”
“I reach,” Sakura said.
“Celebrate, sister,” Ruth smiled.
“I intend to. Phen’s waiting for me.” Sakura gave the One sign, and Ruth followed suit.
“That be ‘bout me,” Del murmured knowingly as the yeoman skipped away. “You go on an’ listen, cher, but I not t’ink it do no good.”
“Don’t say that, Del,” Ruth whispered back.
“Valentine is done,” he sang softly.
“Here but now they're gone.
Romeo an' Juliet are together in eternity...”
“Stop it!” she hissed.
“Don't fear the Reaper, Del continued.
Baby, take my hand...
We'll be able to fly...
Baby, I'm your man...
Ruth got up, still weak, and stumbled away from the taunting, tempting call.
Jeremy went to the cabin he shared with Sulu and Sakura, needing to be some place he could pace without attracting any attention. Okay, Lieutenant Commander, think! he told himself sternly. Put it together. Add it up. What was it about zombies – other than the control aspect? They’re dead, but not really. Does that mean the dead telepaths aren’t? No, Kam’s ‘visions’ proved that, at least about Jonehez. But Jonehez was an agent, just like we are, just like Roger is.
He paused a while to contemplate that. For as long as he’d known Roger, over ten years, the man had been a fanatic; first about Rigellian and Haven chemicals, then about Dr. Sevrin. Paget had never considered him anything more than a stupid annoyance, if sometimes mildly entertaining. But if he’s been a plant all these years… talk about gettin’ an acting award… Okay, so his helpin’ Daffy get to the lab makes sense, as does the flashes of insight he’s shown the past few weeks – and the fact that he was ‘suspicious’ of us long after everyone else on the Shambala was chimin’. It was his way of makin’ sure we were careful enough. So look at what the man said.
‘Trusting you is fucking this up big time.’
No argument there, Rog. This whole thing has turned into a near disaster.
‘The reanimation of dead tissue has long been a dream of chemists.’ Reanimation of… and zombies. Is he tryin’ to tell me that the chemists here have succeeded? But why? If they can control the living telepaths, why would they want to…
‘Xenoneurophene and amyneurophene and telepathic weapons.’
There’s something more about the chemicals, there has to be. Something that would require the reanimation of… something that would combat necrosis… or something necrogeneous… maybe the xenoneurophene accumulates in the tissue after death. Would that make it more potent?
Think! Zombies. The traditional way to make a zombie is with a neurotoxin, usually tetrodotoxin.
The thought stunned him. If the Loonies were actually working with that deadly poison…
The records will have the information.
Shit! Where’s Daffy when I need her!
Ruth’s got a doctorate in chemistry, too.
But the tricorder may not be sensitive enough to make the necessary identification.
Still, if she knows what to scan for, she should be able to recalibrate it.
Jeremy paused in his pacing. He had to talk to Ruth. He had to confirm his guesses with Roger. And he had to find out who the hell Stupid Roger really was.
Sulu was still trembling when Tongo returned to his side. The helmsman felt cold and sick, clutching his own arms. It wasn’t the way he was supposed to act around the Catullan, but he couldn’t stop himself. The thought that he was – had been - a ‘test case’ for the very chemicals that were killing his friends and making them go insane, that he himself could have actually produced some of the first batches of amyneurophene, was a horror that was threatening his sanity.
Killing my friends, he thought numbly, what Cal wanted… just like him… just like The Hunter…
He became aware that Rad’s arms were wrapped around his shoulders, the lavender-haired head resting against his own. “It’s gonna be alright, Kam,” the Catullan said softly. “I’ll find a way, I won’t let her do this to you.”
Sulu took a breath, trying desperately to get back into character – and failing. “I don’t understand what’s happening to me,” he managed.
“I know,” Tongo soothed. “I didn’t know you were an empath. You just need to get clear of the amber, baby. I can help you with that. You can stay with me. I’ve got a private room, and…”
“No!” Sulu pulled away. “I won’t leave Sakura and Jeremy!”
“It’s alright, it’s alright,” Rad repeated, again taking the helmsman into his arms. “We’ll just have to tell them and trust that they’ll help.”
“Tell them what?” Sulu whispered, and some of his acting ability returned as he made himself lean into the Catullan’s embrace.
“You can’t tell anyone else,” Tongo whispered back. “All we can do is try to help you. The others – well, it’s too far gone for them.”
“Tong…” Sulu searched the brown eyes. “What are you talking about?”
Rad quickly glanced around the corridor, then said, “Not here. Come with me.” He rose, helping Sulu to his feet as well. Holding tightly to the helmsman’s hand, he led him down the corridor and through the doors that led to Dreamland’s inner sanctum. Sulu followed, unfeeling, until they were inside a small but elaborately decorated cabin. Flowers and ivy crawled up the walls, but there was a very technologically advanced worktable, a high-end computer, and dozens of data discs and starboards on the small, low table that stood next to the very comfortable-looking bed.
The Catullan sat down on that bed, again bringing Sulu into his arms. He took a clearly uneasy breath. “You know Dr. Sevrin was trying to find a cure for synthococcus novae,” he began. “He’d gone to the Antaris, but since the disease wasn’t affecting any of his biological systems, there wasn’t anything they could cure. He – he began to think that their empathy wasn’t – fine-tuned enough. I mean, they knew he had this virus in him, but they couldn’t isolate it enough to remove it.” He paused. “Or wouldn’t.”
“That’s not possible,” Sulu broke in. “If they could have…”
“Well, that’s not what Dr. Sevrin thought,” Rad returned. “So he went looking for a way to both amp up their abilities and to – uh – make them more willing to – uh – heal him.”
Sulu shuddered again. Make someone more willing… The connection between this and Cal was all too easy to see.
“He and I – and our chemists,” Tongo continued, “have been experimenting with ways to do just that. We started with Human espers because – well, that’s where we could get willing participants. We intended all along, of course, to eventually find ways to create substances that would work on other races – specifically Antaris.” The Catullan sighed. “Things haven’t always been too successful, and there have been other, unexpected effects…”
“Like what’s happening to me?” Sulu asked. He filled his voice with suspicion and incredulous dismay. “You mean – you’ve been experimenting on – drugging me?!”
“I didn’t know you were an empath!” Rad exclaimed. “The Haven chemicals don’t have much of an effect on anyone else – other than what they’re supposed to – and it’s easier just to doctor them all than to worry about who’s ingesting what, and…”
“Oh, fuck!” Sulu muttered. “Fuck this.” He stood, stepping away from Tongo. “Fuck you, Tong!”
Rad, too, stood. "No, it’s not like that!” he cried. “Something’s gone – I’m not – it’s Chione!” He took desperate steps toward Sulu. “She’s taken over, somehow, done something to the chemicals – I don’t know what… Please, Kam, you have to believe me!”
“This is all bullshit,” Sulu snapped. “Sevrin’s dead! You can’t still be looking for some kind of damned cure!”
“I know, I know…” the Catullan shook his head. “We thought – after what happened with the Aurora – we needed some way to revive the Movement! We needed followers, we needed funding! Without Dr. Sevrin’s eloquence and Adam’s gift… Kam, we didn’t know we were going to hurt anyone, I swear it!”
“You’re a liar,” Sulu stated. “You were ready to kill everyone on the Enterprise just to get to Eden.”
Rad’s jaw tightened. “Alright, so I didn’t always care whether or not we were going to hurt anyone. The point is, my only objective was to further the Cause, to make the Movement strong. I thought the espers would enjoy the ride and then…” He stopped speaking abruptly.
“And then what, Tongo,” Sulu said softly. The Catullan remained stubbornly silent. Sulu moved back to him, roughly taking his shoulders. “Then what?” he repeated.
“Then the Cause would have martyrs, and we could blame the Havens and the Federation Herberts.” As the silence stretched between them, Rad shrugged. “I know you’d be able to tell if I was telling you any less than the truth.” The brown eyes looked into the Asians’s, pleading. “But I never wanted that for you. If I had known you were empathic, I never would’ve let you have the doctored drugs. And now Chione’s done something different, something – I don’t know what. And I don’t think I can stop her.”
“Tongo,” Sulu breathed, “what have you done?”
“I know,” Rad replied, reaching for him. “All I can do now is try to save you.”
Jeremy found Roger sitting in the dining hall, his arm around Lace, chatting easily with her. He greeted them with the One sign, then sat down. After a moment of silence, Roger nudged him.
“Hey, brother, you look like you’re draggin’ some real heavies.”
Paget nodded. “What I did to Daffodil… I know she ascended, but…” He shook his head sadly.
“You did what you had to do, Cobra,” Lace said, touching his arm.
“We’re tryin’ to stop this thing,” Roger put in, in a whisper, then added, “Lace knows all about it.”
Jeremy blinked at her, and she blushed. “Okay,” the security man returned, exhaling. “So fill me in. Details, this time.”
“Let’s go to our room,” Roger suggested. “Come on, Brother, you need a bowl and some good company,” he said more loudly, and the three rose, Roger putting his arms around both of them, Lace on one side, Jeremy on the other. When they reached the cabin, and Roger actually pulled out a bowl of Rigellian, Jeremy balked.
“Not too cool, under the circumstances, Rog,” he said.
Roger made a face. “This stuff is clean,” he said. “You think I’d smoke so much of it if it wasn’t?”
Paget sighed and gratefully took the pipe Lace handed him. “So, Lacey,” he said, “how long have you been in the infiltration business?”
“I’m not,” she answered, all seriousness. “I didn’t even know Rog was until about ten days ago. About the time you arrived on Dreamland.”
“I needed help keeping tabs on all of you,” Roger added. He smiled at the ex-Clavist. “And after all we’ve been through, I knew I could trust her.”
“He knew I’d love him no matter what,” Lace returned, placing her hand on Roger’s arm.
“That’s sweet and all,” Jeremy interrupted, “but I need information and I need it fast.”
“You asked, Cobra,” Lace replied with a shrug, and Roger frowned.
“Don’t sledge her, brother,” he said.
“You can stop with the Loony lingo now,” the TerAfrican retorted.
“After all these years?” the Sevrinite snorted. “Not a chance.”
Lace looked troubled. “Loony. Is that what you really think of us?” she asked.
Paget frowned. “I’m sorry, Lace, but if Roger’s told you everything, you have to know how insane all this has become.”
“Some people thought that way before ‘all this,’” Lace countered.
The TerAfrican shrugged. “People are allowed to think what they want.”
“It would be nice, sometimes, if that applied to us,” she returned, her voice wistful and plaintive.
“And if would be nice if you weren’t so damned evangelical…”
“Enough,” Roger broke in. “The Movement has its good points, despite what’s happening in it now.” He looked sternly at Jeremy. “You know that, Cobra.”
The security officer sighed. “Yeah, you’re right.” He glanced at Lace. “Truce, darlin’?
She sighed, then nodded. “Truce,” she agreed.
Paget turned back to Roger. “So, Rog, how long have you been undercover?” he wanted to know. “How many years are we talkin’ here?”
“Going on fifteen, I think,” Roger replied. Jeremy whistled. “I was recruited by MASS when I was in my eighth or ninth year at Alterra.”
Several questions formed in Paget’s mind at once. “Eighth or ninth? Isn’t the usual tenure four?”
Roger gave a lop-sided grin. “I was really into being a student,” he said.
“How old are you anyway?”
“I’ll be 40 next month,” the Sevrinite grimaced.
“Shit,” Jeremy mused. Being only 26 himself, nearly 40 seemed like a lifetime away. He shook off the incredulity and said, “And MASS is…?”
Roger snorted again. “A good security man like you doesn’t know?”
“You mean other than Mad Anthony’s Secret Spies?”
That got a chuckle from Lace, and Roger grinned. “Yeah, I’ve heard it called that. Actually it’s the Multicultural Authority for Surveillance and Security.”
“And how the hell did you get into an above top secret organization like that?” Paget asked.
“Like I said, I was recruited…”
“Yeah, but why…”
“Being Anthony Elamas’ nephew helped.”
Jeremy’s jaw dropped. “Anthony… Supreme Secretariate Anthony…”
“Mad Anthony himself.”
“I will be dipped,” Paget breathed. “Sweet Jesus, his nephew?!”
“Well, not sweet Jesus’ nephew, but I guess when it comes to the Federation, there’s something of that aura about him,” Roger remarked. Lace giggled.
“Your sense of humor hasn’t changed any,” Jeremy replied sourly.
“Yeah.” The Sevrinite shrugged. “So now that my credentials are out of the way, tell me what you’ve figured out, Lieutenant Commander.” It was a long list and Jeremy couldn’t help but be proud of what he’d put together, even knowing there was a lot he was missing. He’d uncovered the association with Glennon and Calvario, the nature of the experiments being done on telepaths, most of the chemical compounds involved and how they were obtained, and even that Pony-Tail Girl was the real mastermind behind the darker turn the Movement had taken in the past year. He had a speculation regarding the zombie connection that only needed Roger’s confirmation.
“So if they’re lacing the chemicals with tetrodotoxin as well, that could make the telepaths and empaths very easy to control. If they withhold the antidote – which they obviously have or Spike’d be dead – well, who’s gonna argue with ‘em?”
Roger was frowning. “That’s good,” he said, “but you still don’t have the worst of it.”
Oh shit. “Okay, so give me the worst of it.”
Roger sighed. “I don’t know.”
It was Paget’s turn to frown. “If you don’t know, how do you know…”
“I’ve made all the same connections as you have. But Jeremy, they HAVE reanimated corpses. I’ve seen some of the telepaths, days, sometimes weeks after they died. It’s not like they’re walking around groaning ‘brains!’ or anything like that – but the corpses have been kept in something that looks like swamp water and – “ He swallowed, shuddering. “I’ve seen Chione and Irina – going at them.”
“Going at…?” Jeremy began.
“Like – sexually. And I’ve seen the corpses – sweat.”
“Oh, fuckin' gross!” Paget spat.
“After a while, there’s this stuff, adipocere, that grows on them. When it’s scraped off – sorry, Lacey,” Roger interrupted himself as the woman jumped up and headed for the nearest bathroom. He shrugged. “Anyway, after that, they’re buried in a very rich, xenoneurophene-laced soil, and fungus grows on the corpses, which is harvested.”
“Necrogenous psilocybin,” Jeremy said darkly.
Roger nodded. “But there’s more. The tetrodotoxin comes from a species of flatworms that start devouring the decaying flesh – and when these worms are big enough, they’re harvested too. And what’s extracted from them goes into the adipocere and the xenoneurophene…”
“And you’ve got yourself one telepathic zombie cocktail,” the security officer finished. “Which just keeps gettin’ stronger when that telepath bites it and goes through the reanimation and decay process.” He rubbed his fingers along his jaw. “And before you know it, you’ve got disposable Super-Paths. And anybody with even a little talent can be turned – like, say, 99% of all Terrans. And every Indiian. And every Vulcan. And every Antari – if they don’t all die first.”
“Which is the only saving grace of this whole mess,” Roger said. “When this shit is tried on Antaris, they die. I mean keheils are powerful enough. Imagine a race of evil super-keheils.”
“Hell, imagine even one.”
“I haven’t told you the worst part,” Roger continued.
“Hell shit fuck damn…”
“It has something to do with Chione, and why she keeps Irina practically closeted. It’s got something to do with the fact that she’s Izarian. And it’s got something to do with – what Calvario was trying with Kam years ago.” Roger looked intently into the TerAfrican’s eyes. “You know about that, don’t you?”
Jeremy knew his face had paled. “Not details, no. Rog, Kam doesn’t even know details. The sick-fuck kept him so damn high… “
“The only way I can explain it is – and this is only guesswork – think of a Human neutron star, Cobra. And imagine someone wanting to turn that star into a black hole, a way to ultimately transform a living being into a kind of soul gravity well. Imagine the empathic and telepathic power necessary to feed that star long enough to make that happen. And then – imagine what kind of transformed thing might come out the other end of that absolute darkness.”
There was silence between the two men for several minutes.
“Who in their fucking right mind would want to do something like that?” Paget finally rasped.
Roger grimaced. “Who said these people were in their right minds?”
Just the short walk to her room exhausted her. Ruth curled up on her bed, placing the tricorder carefully under the edge of the mattress. Don’t fear the Reaper.
Del was lost, she knew that much. He’d helped save her life twice in the past few days, and there was nothing she could do to save his. Worse, he didn’t seem to really mind the prospect.
Don’t fear the Reaper.
Why did I have to teach him so many Valley Collection songs?
She knew she should be listening to whatever Sakura had brought for her, but she couldn’t face it. What if it’s a way to help him? What if it’s a way to help me so that I can contact Spock and get us the hell out of here? If I don’t, we’re all going to die. And what will I say to the Zehara then? Sorry, Z, I fucked up? Yes, I know, dear. Come be a good little sauvrn now.
Feeling sorry for yourself, ani Ramy?
Panic struck her with the touch from her Goddess. Don’t, please, I’ll die! she thought back.
So does every living thing. The only thing that matters is what we do with the lives we’re given.
And if I go now, what happens to Del, to Sulu, to Pavel and Jeremy and Sakura? What happens to Spock, to Jilla, to Daffy? To all the innocent Loonies?
Then the obvious solution is to take down the ones who aren’t innocent.
I can’t! If I try to use my abilities…
And is keheil all you are?
Ruth took a startled breath. This from You? she asked the Zehara.
You are unique. A collector’s item. Two worlds rolled into one. You can’t be one without the other, or you wouldn’t be you. Live long and prosper. L‘chiam. Two phrases from two different worlds but they’re saying the same thing. A cloud-tapestry shifts and blends, ever-changing within itself. So does the informational flow in a computer. Both are necessary, beauty and knowledge, emotion and logic – Human and Vulcan.
Ruth swallowed sudden tears as the Zehara repeated her own words in her mind. She’d spoken them to Spock, trying to cure his weakened mind and body from the ravages of the cordrazine addiction that had been forced on him.
Antari and Human, came the gentle rephrasing. You are brilliant, even when not acting as keheil. Use it now to save those dear to you.
But I feel so weak…
Of course. You are poisoned. Find the answer, ani Ramy – anan Yonaton.
It was a construction she had never heard, but she knew immediately what it meant; daughter of not mother, but father. The newly coined acknowledgement warmed her, filling her with a purpose and resolve, faint but growing. She retrieved the tricorder and set it to replay, putting it between her pillow and her ear.
What she heard strengthened her determination. Del’s little blue pills did not contain some neurotoxin which disabled the voltage-gated sodium channels in the Human neurological system. It was why he was so much stronger than she was, and why he hadn’t yet felt any of the poisoning effects – not of xenoneurophene, but of… She ran the replay back. Tetrodotoxin.
Damned Loonies!
She set the tricorder to give all the chemical information Sakura had retrieved from the lab’s computers, and closed her eyes, listening to the tinny readout with growing hope – and growing confidence.
“Miss Gollub?”
Daffy’s eyes fluttered open at Spock’s voice. “Yeah, Mr. Boss,” she said, pushing herself to her elbows. Uncharacteristically, his hand came to her shoulder, pushing her gently back.
“Your readings are weak,” he said. “You must not strain your system.”
“Thanks, but that’s gonna be the least of our problems,” the chemist replied with a quirky grin. “There’s more going on with the Loon – Sevrinite chemicals than we thought.”
“I have studied the analysis, Lieutenant,” the Vulcan returned. “The tetrodotoxin is troublesome, but…”
“Mr. Spock,” Daffy interrupted. “What the combination of the previously unidentified chemicals says is that somebody’s resurrecting the dead. And you don’t have to be a genius to figure that the dead they’re resurrecting are telepaths.”
“Indeed,” the Science Officer agreed, “but to what end?”
“To increase the potency of their little happy pills,” Gollub explained. “They’re trying to build – or grow – a super telepath. One who can control worlds.”
The Vulcan’s eyebrow arched significantly. “And the neurotoxin guarantees that they will have total control of this super-telepath.”
“Or that they can easily kill any who don’t wanna be controlled.” She took a deep breath. “And what better test subject than a keheil?”
“The records you provided indicated that attempts to use the xenoneurophene combination on Antaris proved fatal,” Spock reminded.
“And the keheil they got is a hybrid. Remember hybrids? They often have both the weaknesses and the strengths of the original species.” She gave her superior officer a toothy grin. “No offense.”
“Yet you have reported that Mr. DelMonde seems much more affected by…”
“He’s goin’ crazy, yeah, and his gifts are souped up like nobody’s business – but he’s not being poisoned. He’s not getting the neurotoxin.” She again tried to sit up and was again restrained by the First Officer’s hand. “Spock, he hasn’t been taking the Haven chemicals, or smoking much Rigellian – not that the Rigellian has the tetrodotoxin in it, or the other gruesome goodies. Those little blue pills of his must be pure xeno/amyneurophene.”
Spock frowned. “Are you telling me that Miss Valley has been ingesting…” he began.
The chemist scowled. “No. She hasn’t.” Then her eyes lit up again. “But she needs protein to live, and they don’t have much in the way of animal flesh available for consumption. She’s been living on these little cubes… and I’ll bet my next promotion they’re filled with the whole chemical cocktail.”
“Fascinating,” Spock mused. “But of what practical value is…”
“It means Del might be able to stop Mr. Big – or Miss Big,” Daffy added as a new thought struck her.
“Miss Galliulin?” the First Officer asked.
Daffy shook her head. “No. As much as I want it to be her, I don’t think so. Saki’s – Miss Tamura’s investigation showed she was empathic, but not telepathic. And while Sulu’s getting stronger in that regard, he’s not in the same league as DelMonde or Ruth. My guess is they’re – she’s using her, like Cal the Sick-Fuck tried to use Kam.” The second half of the sentence was out of her mouth before she thought to stop it. The Vulcan seemed to ignore it.
“And ‘she’ is?” he asked instead.
“Blondie. Miss Hoochi-Coochie. Pony-Tail Girl.” At Spock’s mild glare of frustration, she added, “Chione Zeteline.”
“You’re gonna save me, huh?” Sulu said, staring at Tongo with now-open disdain. “After you did this to me, you’re gonna save me? How the fuck do you propose to do that?”
The Catullan tried to meet the obsidian almonds that were Sulu’s eyes, but flushed and glanced at the floor. “Like I said, I’ll help you get off the amber. Then I’ll make sure the only chemicals you take are the clean ones.”
“So whatever you and your friends have put in it will wear off?” the helmsman scoffed.
Rad looked more miserable. “I think so.”
“You think so?” Sulu’s voice was a whip.
“Kam, we’ve never let it – I mean, we’ve never wanted to…”
“You were content to just let all the pathic types go crazy and die,” came the harsh interruption.
Again Tongo tried to meet his gaze. “It was for the Cause,” he tried plaintively.
“Do you honestly think I give a fuck about the Cause now? Spike and Cajun are my friends, Tongo. We threw away everything – careers, family – I left my wife to support the Cause! And now I find we’re only lab rats? You and your damned Cause are using us up and throwing us away – for what? And worse– worst – “ Sulu’s laughter was a bitter bark, “you don’t even know what the fuck that blonde giggle-factory is trying to do with us!”
“I know she wants power,” Tongo returned with an almost sullen pout.
“Power to do what?” the helmsman asked. Rad remained silent. With increasing fury, Sulu pushed him onto the bed, his hands on either side of the Catullan’s shoulders. “To do what?!” he blazed.
“I don’t know,” Tongo breathed. “Kam, you’re scaring me.”
Again Sulu let out a short harsh rasp of amusement. “Tong, lover, I haven’t started scaring you.”
The fear in the brown eyes was heady and compelling, and Sulu lowered his body to the Sevrinite’s. “I’d suggest you start telling me everything you know,” he whispered, his voice dark but tauntingly seductive, “because I have absolutely no qualms about doing what your damned drugs have made me capable of doing to get the answers I want. And the real bitch of it, Tong, sweetheart, is that you’re gong to enjoy every second of the agony I’m gonna inflict on you – and beg me for more.”
His right hand grasped the Catullan’s throat as he covered Rad’s mouth in a harsh kiss.
Go To Part Twenty
Return To Part Eighteen
Don't Fear The Reaper by Blue Oyster Cult