Return to Valjiir Stories
“Hey, girl.” The dark haired young man leaning against the bulkhead ahead of her wasn’t smiling. “You lookin’ fo' me? ‘Cause I know I sure as hell lookin’ fo' you.”
Irina took in a deep breath, intimidated by this sudden confrontation with the power radiating from him. “We should talk.”
“Well, y’see, I havin’ some problems wit’ talkin’,” he said mildly as his black eyes burned into her. “Either it don’t come out at all or it come out soundin’ kinda crazy.” He put two fingers to his lips as if to seal them before thinking, Can you hear me?
His voice reverberated down the length of her nervous system. She nodded.
Can you talk back?
Steadying herself against the wall with one hand, she shook her head.
He smiled with one side of his mouth. “Then I guess we gonna have to do this the old fashioned way…” With surprising quickness, he crossed the distance between them and took her roughly into his arms. How this? he asked silently as he opened her mouth with a rapacious kiss. DelMonde’s mental voice took on a darker, more cynical tone. Or do we need to work up a sweat?
This will be sufficient, she replied, struggling to maintain her shielding. Physical contact made it very difficult for her.
He smiled, but didn’t release her. You even sound like Chekov inside your head.
“Yes,” she answered aloud, trying to pull back.
DelMonde tightened his grip. Sorry, I not the gentleman your boyfriend is. But as you say, darlin’, we need to talk.
Images began to fill her mind – disconcerting memories of events she had and had not experienced from points of view other than her own. Chekov making love to her shifting crazily into Tongo Rad making love to a pretty young Asian woman and then dissolved into scenes of Dreamland’s lab being explored by someone whose face she couldn’t see.
I been havin’ trouble carin’ too much ‘bout anyt'ing, lately. But you been t'inkin’ ‘bout some t'ings I find very, very interestin’.
Now the images began to focus on Chione. In these visions, Chione grew larger and larger. Her body distorted and blackened into a monstrous beast. The scene swirled and resolved into a vision of herself linked to this dark-eyed man and Chekov as they battled the creature her friend had become.
Irina closed her eyes against the terrible, unnatural screams that echoed in her brain. You’ve become clairvoyant?
Hell, no. This jus’ a fancy show an’ tell. DelMonde reached under her hair and pulled her head back so that she had no choice other than to look into his too-black eyes. I done showed you what you been t'inking. Now you gonna tell me what the hell is goin’ on.
The constant contact was eroding her defenses. “Chione is…” she began aloud, once more trying to pull politely away.
…A black-hearted bitch who must die. DelMonde jerked her back into place. Now tell me why we can’t jus’ kill her.
You already know why. She met his dark eyes evenly. You know that you are changing… and dying. And you know that physical death is only a beginning for our kind, not an end at all.
This time, it was Del who got the vision. He saw Chione transfixed in death. From her rose a terrible power, black and awesome. From this tiny insignificant blonde, a goddess took birth, dark and dread.
As he watched, worshippers gathered around the goddess. His grip on Irina loosened involuntarily when he realized that these worshippers had been anticipating the nativity of this dark goddess for a very long time – very carefully preparing the way for her ascension. He saw them bringing unholy sacrifices to her, feeding her as they had been since…
“Oh, hell…” he breathed, finally getting the entire scope of the thing.
“Exactly.” Irina was able to step back this time.
He didn’t let her get too far. An’ so that what you gonna put us up against? he asked, retaining a tight grip on her upper arms. Me and your li’l boyfriend?
What other choice to we have?
DelMonde considered for a moment. In all the vast possibilities of eternity that stretched inside his brain, this particular moment was fast narrowing down to a few painful options. You do realize I got practically no chance of comin’ out of this alive, non?
Since he was drawing directly from her mind, there was no way of softening the bluntness of her reply. You will die anyway.
He opened his mouth to remind her that he was speaking not simply of physical death but a more profound ending possible for what she had called “their kind.” If he was defeated by Chione, his mind – his essence -- his soul – would dissipate and become captive energy at the command of the dark goddess, perpetually enslaved to the black void. It was a more real and frightening vision of Hell than anything ever dreamed up by any street corner preacher he’d ever heard.
Instead, he just gave her an ironic smile. Well, I jus’ wanted to make it perfectly clear that neither one of us gives a shit 'bout that. But what 'bout Chekov? You not care 'bout what happen to him?
Immediately his mind was filled with visions of the navigator expiring heroically.
Oh, please, girlie. He rolled his eyes. If I wanted that sort of Soviet Realism bullshit, I could’a gotten it straight from him.
Squeezing her arms a little, Del pulled forth alternate projections of Chekov’s end from Irina’s mind. In them, the navigator was warped and twisted into something stained and cruel.
No. She closed her eyes as if that could stop them. Your friend, the Antari…
NO. The flow of her thoughts was suddenly drawn to a forcible halt.
But with a second of the injections, she could…
Del’s grip on her upper arms became intense enough to bruise. Who are you tryin’ to bullshit, girl? Me? Him? Yourself? So much as bein’ in the same room wit' Chione when she in the state we gonna have her in will turn Chekov into th' human equivalent of a sauvrn. And if you t’ink I gonna leave my Ruth to deal wit' a soul-suckin’ fiend…
He relented as Irina’s projections turned into pictures of the navigator dying nobly by DelMonde’s hand.
All right, honey. He sighed grimly. However you need t' play it…
What has happened to him is unprecedented, she said, before he had a chance to force the admission from her.
So you not know? His hands moved up to her neck, stretching his fingers far enough to reach her temples. You not know if he gonna be able to slow her down at all, do you, darlin’? What 'bout me? How my chances?
Visions of nearly a half-dozen telepaths succumbing to Chione poured from Irina involuntarily.
Del gave a bleak laugh. What gonna make me any different?
She looked into his eyes, trying to meet them as frankly as he was demanding. I’ve never aided any of them against her before.
An’ jus’ what can you do for me, girlie? I mean, other than…
Irina tried to block the montage of kaleidoscoping lovers she had ‘shared’ with Chione. I can release power sources inside you.
Sources? As in more than one?
She nodded as she carefully raised one hand. If you would allow me to demonstrate?
He examined her intentions carefully for trickery.All right, he agreed slowly removing his hands.
Irina took in a deep breath and placed the middle of her left hand on his forehead. She lightly traced a circle there as if looking for a particular point. As she zeroed in on the location, he could feel something start to throb just under the skin. Closing her eyes, she ran her finger in a straight line down his nose and lips, continuing until she located a point at the base of his throat. The throbbing was more intense this time. He could feel her gathering and channeling energy towards that spot. The intensity grew until she suddenly drew her finger back then tapped the spot sharply.
Blue light suffused Del’s body. Warmth and illumination radiated out to all corners of his being. When he opened his mouth to comment, a host of tiny blue angels poured from his throat.
“Okay,” he said. His voice sounded in his own mouth and the mouths of a hundred tiny angels. “Interestin’. I not sure how useful for fightin’…”
“I can continue,” Irina replied. “However, there is a danger.”
Chione can sense this, he thought, not wanting angels to have to speak her name.
“Yes. Sometimes a power center will open spontaneously at your stage of …” she hesitated before deciding there was no point in dissembling now. “…incubation. For two to open would be unusual. For three to open…”
Commitment time already, eh, cher? A feeling that was either fear, high excitement, or just the flutter of angel wings was stirring in his stomach. “Well,” he said aloud with his heavenly chorus. “Considerin’ the dwindlin’ number of hours of sanity an’ life I got left, I guess…” He stopped.
It was all too much. His whole life -- and afterlife -- hanging in the balance, waiting on his next words. Everything hanging on the moment, suspended by a thin, thin, thin thread… And that thin thread led, as always, back to Ruth.
Oh, my darlin’, he thought. If my goin’ can leave a better universe fo' you…
Aloud he said. “Well, I guess I could never see myself goin’ too fuckin’ gentle into that good night…”
Del paused and made a mental note to not make angels say the word “fuck” again. “Go ahead, sugar,” he said spreading his arms. “Open ‘er up.”
The next point seemed to be easier for Irina to find. It was located over Del’s heart. Green light exploded from the center in his chest when she thumped it. His heart seemed to open like a huge flower spreading layers and layers of petals in every possible direction. Incredible depths of emotion were suddenly available to him.
“Oh,” he breathed, then laughed weakly. “You shoulda opened this one first. I not’ve hesitated to agree t' fight.”
Irina shook her head, already starting to search for the third point. “You would have seen it as a trick.”
“I might have,” he agreed, marveling at the practiced and professional way she went about this skill he had never heard of any empath ever even thinking of trying to develop. She had been carefully, carefully groomed and trained for years to be able to….
“Ahhh,” he and the angels cried as she punched him in the solar plexus.
“Sorry.” She apologized flatly. “That one requires more force.”
Yellow light flowed from Del’s being. He felt himself growing as streams of pure strength and power flowed like flooding rivers through his veins. He looked down at his arms and legs, amazed that he didn’t seemed to be getting as tall on the outside as he was growing on the inside. Inside himself, he was ten feet tall and muscled like a bull. His hands were huge, capable of smashing whole stars in their grasp.
“We’ll save the rest for when you are in actual contact with her,” Irina said, stepping back.
Del blinked at her in disbelief. “There more?”
“Yes, Mr. DelMonde.” The barest shadow of a smile played over her lips. “This is only what you Americans might call “the bait.””
Jim Kirk listened to the First Officer’s report with growing unease. McCoy had accompanied the Vulcan to give Medical’s confirmation of the information Lieutenant Gollub had described. After a moment of thought, Jim turned to Communications.
“Miss Uhura,” he said, “dispatch an Eyes-Only communiqué to Admiral Brezhnova, attaching the reports Mr. Spock and Dr. McCoy have logged. Message as follows.” Jim quickly outlined the information to be included in the transmission. Almost all of the objectives of the undercover party had been met: the nature of the weapons the Sevrinites were intending to employ, the funding of the Movement, the actual agenda and even the likely identity of the person behind both the change in the Movement’s aims and, apparently the entire Movement itself, plus the means by which she was controlling the Sevrinites. Also included was the statement of the clear and present danger to the undercover team, and a request for their immediate retrieval, as the only thing that remained uncertain was a way to stop Chione Zeteline. The immediate aid of Haven chemists in counteracting the contamination of their chemicals was requested, along with the suggestion that the Haven Trading Empire be informed of the mission and its findings, since it was assumed that the Emperor and CEO would be interested in the unsavory reputation their products might develop due to the unauthorized tampering being conducted by the Sevrinites. Special caution was added with regards to contact with Admiral Patrick Glennon. Jim also asked that word regarding the danger to keheils be sent to the Matriarchy of Antares, and requested the immediate aid of the Hood and any other available ships to contain a possible exodus from Dreamland Base. Finally, it was suggested that a diplomatic delegation – with subtle but persuasive military back-up – be sent to Catulla.
“Message sent, Captain,” Uhura reported. “Estimated time till a reply is received is two hours.”
“Given the Hood’s last known position, she can arrive here in less than half that time,” Spock said.
“Good thinking, Spock,” Jim said. He again turned in the con to Uhura. “Contact Captain Aronsen directly,” he ordered.
“Aye, sir,” the Communications Chief acknowledged.
“Jim,” Dr. McCoy said from his position to the left of the captain, “Do we have to wait for an official go-ahead to get our people out of there? From what Miss Gollub reported, every minute we leave ‘em there is…”
“I know, Bones,” Jim sighed. “But I’m not in command of this mission.”
“But they’re your people…” McCoy protested.
“And they all accepted the assignment.”
“And risks never outweigh…?”
“Without any clear indication of their positions or circumstances, what do you suggest I do?”
“How about beamin’ down an armed party and takin' this Izarian into custody?”
“And if she decided to activate the neurotoxin?” Spock put in, stepping down to the command console. “We would be signing the death warrants of every telepath and empath on that entire Base, Doctor – including Miss Valley, Mr. DelMonde and Mr. Sulu.”
There was a small gasp from Engineering, and Jim closed his eyes, realizing who was at that station.
“I’m sorry, Mrs. Majiir,” the captain said. “There’s really nothing we can do but wait.”
The Indiian’s pale form looked somehow smaller as she nodded. “I understand, Captain,” she said.
Jim scowled at McCoy, and caught the exchange of anxious looks between his First Officer and the engineer. And I’m sorry for you, too, my friend, he thought at the Vulcan.
She would never say where she came from
Yesterday don’t matter 'cause it’s gone
While the sun is bright
Or in the darkest night
No one knows
She comes and then she goes
Del could hear Chione’s voice in his head as if she were standing in front of him instead of in the cargo bay at the far end of this corridor.
Goodbye, ruby tuesday
Who is gonna hang that name on you?
And when you change with every new day
Still I’m gonna miss you...
“You hear that?” he asked Irina. He was becoming used to speaking with a chorus of angels echoing him.
Her face was set as she walked beside him. “Of course.”
Don’t ask why she needs to be free
She’s gonna tell you it’s the only way to be
She just can’t be chained
To a life where nothing’s gained
And nothing’s lost
At oh, such a cost
It occurred to Del obliquely that Chione had a nice voice. Nice voice. Nice face. Nice body. If life had been entirely different for her…
If ever't'ing different, then ever't'ing be different an' we not be here now. Stop tryin’ to stall, fool, he hushed himself. Aloud, he said to Irina, “You know she directin’ this at you, non?”
“Yes,” she replied tightly. “That’s why I can hear it.”
Oh, there’s no time to lose, I heard her say
You gotta catch your dreams before they run away
Dying all the time
Lose your dreams
And you might lose your mind.
Ain’t life unkind?
Irina turned to DelMonde. “And that was for you.”
“Yeah.” Del nodded. “Loud an' clear on all channels.”
Goodbye, ruby tuesday
Who is gonna hang that name on you?
And when you change with every new day
Still I’m gonna miss you...
“Okay,” Del said stopping at the door to the bay. He took a deep breath and tried to clear his head for the battle to come. “Now how exactly am I s’posed to do this?”
“I don’t know.”
This was far from being the rallying speech the engineer had been anticipating. He raised an eyebrow. “Really?”
“I told you that I have never tried this before,” she said, seeming remarkably calm. “When you engage her, you’ll know what to do or you won’t. You will be strong and prevail…. Or your weakness will doom us both.”
“Oh, that a great plan,” DelMonde congratulated her sarcastically. “What branch of Starfleet Intelligence you in? Strategic Command?”
“I cannot tell you what I do not know,” she maintained, coming to a halt in front of the doorway leading to the cargo bay.
Del crossed his arms and frowned. “An’ just what do you know?”
Irina paused for a long moment and considered.
“I know that you must be strong,” she said at last. “And that you must believe in your own strength.”
The engineer frowned. He was strong, yes. Incredibly strong. Unbelievably strong. And there was the sticking point… He’d never been this strong before. Had he ever really been strong at all? Del was all too intimately familiar with his own weaknesses, but strengths…
“Above all,” Irina was saying. “You must believe in the rightness of what we’re about to do.”
Now that, he could manage. The very walls of this place cried out for vengeance. The ghosts who lingered there urged him on. Del’s chest began to expand with echoes of their righteous anger. Warm blood flowed from his solar plexus and once more infused his limbs with power. The angels in his throat began to hum.
Carried forward by their song, he nodded to Irina who opened the door to the bay. The large room was sparsely populated at this time of day. Chione was sitting with her back to them, playing Adam’s boshzier.
A voice inside Del’s head that sounded like his own began to sing along with the angels.
Oh, a storm is threatenin’
My very life today
If I don’t get some shelter
I’m gonna fade away
As Chione turned her Human-looking non-human eyes on him, Del was transported back to the time when he was just a little boy fishing with a still younger cousin and an alligator had decided to go after them. He'd been momentarily stunned by the sheer unthinking primordial malice of the beast as it had turned towards them, instinctively heading for the choicest, most tender meat in a 20 mile radius.
War, children, it's just a shot away
It’s just a shot away
War, children, its just a shot away
It’s just a shot away
Chione smiled an alligator smile as she met his eyes.
See the fire is sweeping
Our very street today
Burns like a red coal carpet
Mad bull lost its way
"Mere d’un dieu," he said as he had as a child. "That t'ing aim to kill us."
War, children, it’s just a shot away
It’s just a shot away
As he had as a boy, Del automatically reached out with his mind and pushed the beast.
War, children, it’s just a shot away
It’s just a shot away
Instead of being taken off guard as the reptile had been, the black thing inside Chione extended itself and bit into the psychic space Del inhabited.
He could hear its laugh as he pulled himself back out of her reach.
So you wanna fight, huh? the creature’s mental voice asked in an imitation of his own. You not gonna be able to pull your ol’ tricks on me, boy. Gator’s gonna get you this time.
The hell you are, he said, striding towards her.
Come on, my black-eyed boy, the beast’s mental voice crooned. Come to Mama.
“All right, bitch,” he said aloud, in the voice of men and angels. “You want me? Then let’s fuck.”
Tongo Rad was gasping as Sulu forced the dark emotion into his terrified soul. Pain seared all through him, carrying with it an equal amount of pleasure that overwhelmed his practically non-existent defenses. The Catullan had felt it before – had, in fact, watched while it was aimed at others – but never had he experienced it as he had ordered it done.
Sulu lashed at his captive with all the dangerous power he had for so long fought to suppress. The rage at what was being done to those he cared for drove him, vengeance a much more compelling motive than had been Cal’s perversions or the heady freedom of unbridled sexuality. He hurled questions at Rad like bolts of lighting, demanding responses – but giving no respite nor reward when he received them.
It soon became obvious that the Catullan knew little about what was Chione actually doing. Sulu absorbed the chemical information he did possess, hoping against hope that when back on the Enterprise a way could be found to purge the xeno/amyneurophene from their systems. When Rad revealed the usage of a neurotoxin, Sulu nearly lost all control. He used his emotions to beat the Catullan nearly senseless, then demanded more information.
Within the desperate, helpless response, he caught an image of something Rad held within him, but obviously knew nothing about. It came to the helmsman’s awareness without words, something Rad had glimpsed but had no understanding of. There was a black hole forming, its inexorable pull gobbling up life and light – telepathic life, empathic light. It fed on the gifts, fueling its own growing, destructive power. For a moment, the image became that of a distorted and grotesque fetus, gorging on the fear and anger that was channeled to it by its giggling mother. The womb was impenetrable, a shield of impossible strength. There was no way to harm it, no way to prevent its inevitable and horrible birth.
This is what she is? Sulu screamed into the Catullan’s uncomprehending, frightened mind. This is what she’s using us for? To feed that monstrosity?
With sudden horror of his own, Sulu realized that it could sense him, and that his anger was sweet sustenance to its bloated being. A cry of anguish formed in his head and he used it to send Tongo spiraling down into unconsciousness. Desperately he reached for the silver thread of sanity that bound him to Jilla, then wrenched away from it, afraid that it would allow the beast to touch her.
I won’t let you have her! he roared at it. She’s my only salvation, my only peace…
NO! Don’t make her attractive to it!
But abruptly, he realized that, instead of being drawn to his love for Jilla, the thing shied away from it. The strength of his devotion made its intensity waver. It only lasted a moment, but in that moment, Sulu could suddenly see past the fetus, past the womb, into the being that was still Chione. He saw there a streak of red, a minute portion that was still – for lack of a better term – human. A tiny wound, a small crack that was yet open within her blackening and hardened heart. Words that seemed to come from nowhere formed in him, along with their Anglo translation: sha zevran; my heart is open. The open heart. The bleeding wound.
To someone outside the fray, what was going on didn’t look at all like a battle. At moments like this, when Irina’s cool hand on his back told him to pull back, Del was aware of the people milling around in the bay. Most of them had no idea anything out of the ordinary was going on. Some felt a sense of unease that they couldn’t quite explain. A very few had noticed something peculiar was going on and were starting to stare.
All they saw, however was Chione on her knees in front of Del, smiling. Irina stood behind him, occasionally touching his back, but staying beyond arm’s length of her former friend.
The landscape within the psychic space where all the action was happening, however, was a very different thing. There was a bright blue background somewhere, Del knew, but he found himself in the center of a raging storm. The kaleidoscopic maelstrom tried its best to tear at him, to pull him away from the centers of power Irina had opened within him. Darkness was all round him, threatening to swallow him whole. There were flashes of lightning, bright silver, that were meant to startle and distract him. He set his surety against it and let the instinctive awareness that had made him a galaxy-class Maker spread out into the churning tempest.
Don’t attack from anger, Irina’s voice in his mind advised him. It only feeds her.
Chione grinned. Yum. Yum. Yum! the beast inside her said with her giggle.
Eat this, bitch, Del thought at her/it, diving in again. The colors, sounds, and presence of the beast swirled around him obscuring all else.
In the black and silver-roiling void, his angels sang to him.
Oh, a storm is threatening
My very life today
If I don’t get some shelter
I’m gonna fade away
Not so comforting, fellas, he reproved them as he began to gather energy. Heeding Irina’s advice, he bypassed the green energy in his chest and went straight for the yellow energy flowing towards his midsection. Nothing angry there. Strong, yes, but nothing dark – All sunshine.
Del began to search the black and silver swirling body of the beast for weak sections. Occasionally there were flashes of red. He felt himself drawn to them, but knew that they weren’t part of the beast. It was something else. Maybe something important…
See the fire is sweeping
Our very street today
His angels sang to him,
Burns like a red coal carpet
Mad bull lost its way
Not too helpful, neither, he chided, taking aim at what looked to his engineer’s eyes as a crack in a silver fortification.
The beast screamed with the sunburst impact and receded, momentarily letting the normal cerulean blue of the psychic plane peek through.
Del didn’t relax, though he held his fire. When the beast had boasted that none of his old tricks would work against her, she’d been right – even though at that time, Del hadn’t realized he had any tricks at all. In the past eternity during which they’d been dueling, it seemed that every technique he tried was instantly identifiable to the beast as something ridiculously hackneyed and clichéd.
He had begun to learn the beast’s favorite ploys as well. This one was particularly annoying. It pretended to be wounded in order to draw him out and…
“Ahh!” Del groaned as psychic lightning shot through him.
He was buffeted by the beast’s mocking laughter as Irina’s touch summoned him from the conflict.
“It no good,” he gasped, doubling over in an effort to catch his breath. “It like shootin’ photon torpedoes down a gravity well. She jus' tryin’ to drain me – wait me out.”
Chione tilted her head to one side. “Poor, Reeny,” she said, in her little girl’s voice. “You chose the wrong man. Even our little boyfriend would be better than this dumb Cajun.” Her voice shifted to the beast’s imitation of DelMonde. “Can’t figure it, can you, son? Too dumb to know one end from the other.”
“I know enough to make you squeal, bitch,” Del snarled, flipping back into the psychic plane and shooting her with a combination of blue and yellow energy.
The beast screamed hideously and spun about him in a whirling eddy of fury.
Those particular bolts seemed to give the creature pain. Too bad they didn’t seem to cause any damage. Too bad that nothing did.
Come on, son, he silently urged himself. Figure it out. What the missin’ piece of the puzzle?
His mind’s eye caught another flash of red in the churning miasma.
The open heart, a small voice whispered from an enormous distance. The bleeding wound.
Del wasn’t quite sure he’d heard right. The voice didn’t repeat though. All he could hear was his angels singing,
See the fire is sweeping
Our very street today
Burns like a red coal carpet
Mad bull lost its way
Hmmm, he mused as he watched the beast re-group for another attack. You fellas know somethin’ I not?
As the angels whispered into his ear, an image began to form of a bleeding heart like the ornately gory ones he’d sometimes seen on novena candles. The open heart. The bleeding wound.
He sighed. Apparently angels had difficulty in speaking in anything other than religious imagery. Well, Del thought, watching a huge bolt of silver death form in the beast’s hands. That make as much sense as anyt'ing else in here…
He was able to deflect the worst of the beast’s bolt, but still had to take enough impact to make him wince.
“It no good,” he said, pulling out to report to Irina. “It like boxin’ wit’ vacuum. I gonna have to go closer. I need to touch her.”
If you touch her, Irina warned, she will kill you.
She killin’ me now, Del rebutted, turning his head to look at her.
Irina was silent for a moment before nodding. “Do what you must.”
Chione remained quiescent and smiling as Del knelt and lowered his hands to her white neck. He could feel a black burning in his skin as they drew closer and closer to contact. His angels hummed in fear or excitement. He could see his fingers began to tremble as the distance began to close to mere centimeters.
Here we go, he told himself trying to steady their shaking. Do or fuckin’ die. ‘Tis a far, far, better mother-fuckin’ t'ing I do than I have ever done before... ‘Tis a far, far better rest…”
Yum! Yum! Yum! giggled the beast.
Go To Part Twenty-One
Return To Part Nineteen
Ruby Tuesday as performed by by Emiliana Torrini
Gimme Shelter by The Rolling Stones