Return to Valjiir Stories
Once Noel DelMonde had seen a piece of paper caught in a wind tunnel. He’d watched in fascination as the sheet, caught against the grill of the wind machine, had gradually disintegrated before his eyes.
Now that he himself was being torn to bits by the pull of the beast, he wished he had done something to help that sheet of paper out. On the psychic plane he could feel other beings drifting by, mildly surprised at his choice to throw himself in to the jaws of the death. When he tried to cry out for help, the thoughts themselves were sucked from his mind. What could they do to help a piece of paper? What defense could there possibly be for a thin sheet of paper caught in a…
Sweet Mother of God, fuck me for being a fuckin’ fool, he cursed himself as he belatedly sought to erect the sort of defense he was now fully capable of deploying.
Shield, Del, shield! a memory of Ruth’s voice screamed at him as he built a barrier between himself and the beast’s soul-sucking void.
I’m a’doin’ it, darlin’, he hushed her.
The beast snorted derisively. Took you long enough to think of it, idiot.
Thought you might be gettin’ bored, bitch, he sneered back. Thought I give you a li’l thrill.
As he attempted to solidify his position, Del realized his situation was not all that much improved. He’d managed to upgrade himself from paper in a wind tunnel to fly on flypaper.
You do thrill me, the beast said, coming towards him on the psychic plane in the form of a planet-sized spider. What a tasty little treat you are.
Y’know, Del observed, as he shored up his defenses, if I not already crazy, I sure this would drive me to it.
I thought you’d turned against me, Reeny, the beast called in Chione’s voice. But look what you’ve brought me. All shiny and heroic on the outside, but look at what lies beneath… The beast bent down and bit into Del’s shoulder.
The bite hurt as much as it would in reality.
“Motherfuckin’ black-hearted fuckin’ bitch!” he cursed, doubling over in pain as he scrambled to come up with a psychic defense for gigantic metaphysical spider bites.
Look at all that lovely rage, the beast crooned. And here… It sank its fangs into Del’s shoulder again.
“No,” he groaned against the horrible, unreal pain.
So much despair, the creature marveled, So, so, so much… What a lovely present, Reeny… Reeny? You do hear me, don’t you?
DelMonde held his breath and hoped beyond hope that no answer would come.
The heavily accented voice was less than a whisper. Yes.
You hear me and obey me, don’t you, Reeny?
“Irina,” Del began, trying to pull out of the psychic plane. However, the beast bit into him again just hard enough to hold him in place.
Chione, Irina’s mental voice sounded strained. You mustn’t…
No, the beast replied very reasonably. I mustn’t. I must be controlled. And in order to control me, you must obey me. Right, Reeny?
Irina, pull back! Pull back! It got me! Del cried out as the beast sunk its fangs in deeper.
Oh, yes, I’ve got you now. He could feel the thing smile as it began to gnaw at him. And I have you too, don’t I, Reeny? You’ve been mine for a long, long time, haven’t you?
The Yes that came in reply was as thin as the wind.
There was an open commons area at the juncture of the corridors that lead to Ruth and Sulu’s quarters. Jeremy waited there, afraid to go after one for fear of missing the other. He had his arm around Lace, sharing a pipe-full of Roger's clean Rigellian.
“I can go…” she offered.
“No,” he said, wanting to be the one to break this vital piece of information to them both. “They’ll be along.”
At the sound of footfalls, the security man was relieved to see Ruth coming toward them.
"Hey, Spike," he called dreamily. "You want a toke? It's good stuff," he added meaningfully.
The Antari sat down next to him, giving him a warm kiss. "Is it real good?" she asked, then patted Lace’s calf. "Hi, Lacey," she said.
"Finest kind,” he confirmed, wishing the two Sevrinites loitering within earshot would move along.
Ruth's eyes closed gratefully as she took a hit from the first non-laced Rigellian she'd had in nearly a month.
"You know," she said, letting the fragrant smoke trail from her mouth. "I think I need something more than this. I hear Del's little blue pills really transcend." And she touched her finger to her temple. "I mean," she went on, "judging from his reactions, they're really good. Not as good as this Rigellian," she added with a giggle, "but good nonetheless."
Jeremy glanced at Lace, who stood and called out to her friends, “Hey, Havi! Sten, would you chime with doing a favor for me?”
As Lace explained her fool’s errand to her complacent victims, Paget leaned forward under the cover of another kiss and whispered, "How clean are they?"
"No neurotoxin," she whispered back. "Just the xeno/amy compound."
"That's why he..."
"…can still breathe, yeah. And I think if I take some, I may be able to fight the tetrodotoxin."
Jeremy sat back, bringing Ruth with him to recline against his chest. "I chime with that, darlin'," he sighed.
"Then I guess I should go see if Cajun has a few spares."
"No need for speed," Paget returned. "I'm sure he'll be by in a while, and we can hit him up then."
Ruth glanced down the corridor that led to the cargo bay. "Where is my beloved anyway?"
Before Paget could reply, Ruth began to pick up on an unidentifiable but vaguely awful sensation emanating from that direction.
Del? She stretched herself out carefully. Del? Are you okay?
Why don’t you just die? The beast asked with mild curiosity.
It had him on his back with a fang planted deep into Del’s chest as it leisurely sucked out green energy.
I dunno, bitch, he replied wearily. At this point, it a fuckin’ mystery to me too.
I know you want to. She took him back to his first suicide attempt at age twelve, then through a series of not-so-accidental near over-doses and even covered some incidents of reckless self-endangerment that DelMonde hadn’t even recognized as masked attempts to end his own life at the times at which they had occurred.
Please, he sighed. Cut the Ghost of Christmas Past shit an’ jus’ get on wit’ it.
I can see why you wouldn’t want to live. She replayed a hundred deliberate cruelties on his part and then unfolded a thousand acts of uncaring malice. You’re not a very good person.
Fuck the color commentary, bitch, he requested, Jus’ kill me.
And here’s the worst thing…
He saw himself at the Clave a multitude of times sensing something terribly wrong and doing nothing, too wrapped up in his own misery to get involved in the misery of others.
In my misery, Chione’s voice informed him. In Reeny’s misery. And for this you’re going to pay. You’re gonna care. Before I kill you, we’re going to teach you to care, my black-eyed boy. Help me make him care, Reeny.
Even in the psychic plane, Irina’s touch was cool.
“Irina, you can still save yourself,” he said, pulled briefly back into the real world by her touch. As in the astral plane, he had fallen over onto his back.
“No, I can’t.” Her tone was flat and dead as she ran a hand down the front of his body.
“No, she can’t,” Chione echoed cheerfully. “So just lay back and take it like a man.”
Del tried to pull away as Irina’s hand traced a line down to his groin, but Chione was holding him down by the shoulders and he was too weak to move.
He cried out when the Russian girl swiftly drew back her hand and hit him in the balls because: A) It hurt and B) The blow opened up another power center.
Orange light warmed his cold, weakened body.
“Yeah, baby.” Chione closed her eyes and drank in the influx of new energy. “You’re going to learn. You may even learn to love the pain. I know I did.”
Del saw Irina’s eyes suddenly go to her friend as her hand moved further down. Once again she caressed him intimately before striking home at the trigger point of a new power source.
This time the light was throbbing red.
The open heart. The bleeding wound. He remembered, but still the time wasn’t right.
Now was the time, however, to survive.
Del let the flow of red energy support him while he flipped into the astral plane and began to shoot combinations of blue and yellow energy into the open channel through which the Beast was feeding.
It screamed in agony and angry surprise.
Irina’s touch pulled him back into reality where Chione’s grip had loosened enough for him to slide out from under her grasp.
“Cute trick, Reeny,” Chione said, as Irina helped Del up to his knees. “But not cute enough. You see, now I know what’s holding your hero here.”
In the astral plane, the beast reached towards the thin string deep inside Del’s soul.
Here it is, the creature said, as the engineer hastily tried to erect a defense. And it’s rooted in desire. Brutal, selfish, desire.
When the beast reached out and plucked the string, it called in Ruth’s voice, Del? Del? Are you okay?
Ruth! he called back furiously. What the hell you doin'? Not'ing ‘pathic! I told you, not'ing ‘pathic!
But, Del… He could feel her searching her own thoughts. I don’t think I’m actually doing anything.
There was something strange about the quality of the thought transmission – almost as if it wasn’t coming directly from her.
I can hear you, Ruth was thinking, but I can’t feel you. This is more like talking on an intercom than anything telepathic.
Del narrowed his eyes at Chione. “This you, ain’t it, bitch?”
“Who me?” she asked and he could hear the beast laugh on the astral plane as a hideous echo of her giggle.
The engineer then realized something new about the beast. The beast and Chione were two separate but connected entities. Chione hadn’t created this link to Ruth. She couldn’t. She had no telepathic abilities. The beast, however, had staggering powers – as he had learned painfully.
Del? Ruth was asking. Are you in trouble?
Oh, no, cher, he said, keeping his mental voice as calm as possible as he dodged another attack. I jus’ a little busy right now. Don’t really have time to talk.
If the beast could reach out and touch minds directly, he wondered, why hadn’t it done so before now?
Del, this isn’t really an intercom, Ruth was saying. I can’t just hit an off switch.
What was the beast’s game? Did it want Ruth’s voice here just to torment and distract him? One thing was clear. If the beast wanted Ruth here, then it was imperative that he find a way to send her away. On the astral plane, he looked for more clues about the relationship between Chione and the beast.
Gradually he began to see Chione in the outlines of the beast. Chione’s strong shielding functioned as sort of containment field that held the beast. If that was true, though, then how was it able to reach out to Ruth?
Where are you? Ruth asked. Are you in the cargo bay? I can help you.
Del knew he didn’t have the strength to spare that it would take to block Ruth from joining the battle. Instead, he turned to someone who might be able to. Jer, hold her. Don’t let her come to me. It’ll kill her.
He was pleased at how quickly and firmly Paget’s arms encircled the Antari.
“Let me go, Jer,” he could hear her demand.
“I can’t, Ruthie,” Jer replied, not questioning where the impulse was coming from. “It’ll kill you.”
“Del’s making you say that,” Ruth retorted, still struggling.
“But he’s right,” Jer replied without further prompting. “You can’t help him.”
“Jer, I can save him.”
“You can only save the body,” Jer’s voice was suddenly tinged with something black and dreadful. “You can’t save the soul.”
Del?
Damned beast, Del cursed as the creature gave him a mocking smile.
Anything you can do, Chione said in the beast’s voice, I can do better.
And then it was clear to him. The beast was using his telepathy to reach Ruth. In the same way it could use Irina’s empathy to suck energy in, it could use a telepath to reach out.
Let it go, darlin’, he advised Ruth, ignoring the beast. Don’t hang onto me.
Let me help you, Del.
On the astral plane, the beast swirled around him laughing. Do you hear that? That’s not love. That’s pity.”
Who is that, Del?
No one, sugar, he said, hurling an energy bolt at the thing. Jus’ the beast.
It dodged it easily. She’s another man’s wife, the creature taunted, coming uncomfortably close. She’s not yours. She never has been.
The engineer understood now. The beast was using Ruth like a pump to siphon more pain and despair from his soul.
Del?
Don’t listen, honey. Save yourself.
She doesn’t love you. The beast came close enough to whisper in his ear. She only pities you. Your weakness attracts her. It licked his cheek like a dog. Just like it does me, my black-eyed boy.
Del, Ruth’s voice was adamant in his mind. What she’s saying… It’s not…
It not important, darlin’, he soothed, using the beast’s closeness as an opportunity to shoot pain into its weirdly invulnerable hide. It jus’ talk.
I can help you, Del.
See. The beast mocked Ruth using her own voice. She can only help you. She really could save you… if she loved you, that is…
Del, what’s she saying?
Don’t listen, sugar, he said trying to keep his mental voice even and calm as the beast reached out and bit into his pain once more. You gotta be strong now. You gotta let me go, ‘cause this t'ing got a’hold o’ me too deep. You not save me. You gotta let me die.
If ooooooonly she loved you… the beast sang, pressing its fangs close to his heart.
Shut up, bitch, he snapped, knocking it away with another blast. I know she don’t.
Del… Ruth paused. You are not to me what Spock is. But there are other kinds of bonds. There are other kinds of love.
See, the creature sighed as it wheeled and pressed into him again. You’re just a pity fuck to her. Don’t romanticize it.
Trust me, bitch, he said, kicking free. I ain’t romanticizin’ shit right now.
I don’t love you the way that I love him, but I do… Ruth couldn’t finish.
I know, cher, he replied, realizing that it wasn’t necessary for her to do so. No need to force things this time. For once, he found he could be content with what he’d gotten even if it wasn’t what he really wanted.
As Irina had said sometimes happened at his “stage of incubation,” a power center began to open spontaneously. The throbbing in the middle of his forehead intensified until the inner light burst forth and the third eye opened.
Suddenly everything was perfectly clear.
An’ that not what really make the difference, he said, finding the wisdom and courage it took to shut off the link to Ruth without breaking their deeper connection. It not how much I am loved that hold me here… that make me strong. True strength lies in how much – despite everyt'ing – I am able to love.
The telepathic communication with Del had left the Antari breathless and Ruth knew she had only a very short while before he would need her for far more than a mental pep talk. If she was going to gamble on those pills, it had to be now.
Urgently she told Jeremy what she was going to do, not knowing if the beast would pick up on the non-telepathic communication if she wasn’t still trying to help the engineer, but knowing the security officer would never let her out of his vise-grip if she didn’t.
She tried not to look toward the trio who were outwardly engaging in a teasing seduction as she raced to Del’s cabin. You don’t think there’s anything I can do, Ruth thought, careful to keep it private, but I may have a surprise for you yet.
When she entered the cabin, Ravi was curled up on the bed, Diona next to her, both apparently asleep. Ruth stepped up to them, gently shaking Diona’s shoulder, hoping her own trembling wouldn’t be too obvious.
“Hey, sister,” she said.
“He’s not here,” the Sevrinite replied dreamily.
“Yeah, I can see that,” Ruth said grimly. “But I was wondering – those little blue pills you give him – can I get some from you?”
Diona sat up. “Why?” she asked, and it was just a question, with no suspicion in it.
“He says they let him rest,” Ruth returned, “and after what’s been happening with my contact with Daffy, I could use some.”
The woman looked momentarily wistful. “I never thought an Antari would need that kind of help,” she said, rising from the bed.
“Yeah, me neither.” Ruth shrugged. “But I figure it couldn’t hurt. And if it does have some kind of weird effect…” She grinned, keeping her sarcasm inside her own mind. “Well, what is there that a keheil can’t cure?”
The Sevrinite smiled at her. “There’s that, I guess,” she agreed. She opened the small drawer of the bedside table. “Here,” she said, opening a small bottle. “Del usually takes three or four.”
“Sounds good to me,” Ruth replied. She took the pills, quickly swallowing them. “Thanks, Diona.”
“I like to do anything I can to help an esper,” the Sevrinite said. “Because of Jonehez.”
“You loved him,” Ruth said softly. “I chime with that.”
Diona grinned. “Well, you know how it is,” she returned.
“I sure do,” Ruth agreed with a warm smile. And let her think I’m talking about Del.
“Phen-Phen,” Sakura said, running a finger down his chest. “You know I really reach you.”
“Yeah, baby,” he replied, kissing his way down her neck. “I reach you too.”
Now that she had become accustomed to the term, Sakura found herself really growing to like “reaching.” It was much, much more useful for casual relationships than other similar words – “Love” for instance. “Reaching” just meant that you felt you understood where the other person’s head was at… maybe even that you took pleasure in the other person’s company – but nothing more. It was less of a commitment than even saying “like.” You could reach someone and not really be that crazy about the person at all.
It was an absolutely perfect term for her relationship with Phen. Calling what existed between her and Phen a “relationship” was even stretching things. He was her favorite Loonie to have sex with. Period. Nothing more. But, at the same time, nothing less. She thought he felt the same way. They reached. That was it. They could say as much to each other with perfect honesty and even affection.
Sakura was amazed that they’d never developed a similar phrase at the Clave.
“And Dreamland is really like no place else I’ve ever been,” she continued. Her turn at playing girl-detective had left her rattled and uneasy enough to want to delay her assignation with the blue-skinned youth.
“Yeah,” he mumbled absently as he kissed his way down to her cleavage. “It transcends.”
“Yeah,” she agreed, then decided to go ahead and address the nagging worry that was keeping her from falling happily into bed with him. “But why are you here?”
“Huh?”
“I mean, I guess you’re really into Sevrin’s message,” she said, and remembered her cover enough to add, “like we all are, but you don’t talk about him as much as some of the others.”
“Yeah.” Phen shrugged apologetically. “I joined after he was gone. I chime with the whole One thing… but I guess I’m just not so much of a “message” type guy.”
“Then what?”
“The drugs were free. The work was easy. And the sex…” Phen smiled and kissed her. “Absolutely transcends. Does there need to be anything more?”
She put her arms around him, returning his smile. “I guess not.” They were interrupted by the sound of bare feet pounding down the corridor in their direction.
“Yeoman Tamura,” Chekov gasped, as he came to halt before them. “Where is Irina?”
“Hey, brother,” Sakura forced herself to laugh. “What’s with all the Herbert talk?”
“Sorry,” he apologized perfunctorily, his breath still coming in heaves. “But this is important. Have you seen her?”
After pounding on the door of the room Irina had left him in for what seemed like ages, two of Chekov’s guards from his re-education days had opened the door. Apparently, Irina had left no instructions as to what was to be done with him. When it became clear to him that he wasn’t going to be able to give satisfactory answers to their questions, he had knocked one into the other and taken off running.
He didn’t know how far behind him they were, but was sure they had to be in hot pursuit.
“No,” Tamura was replying, looking as dazed as he felt
“Chione?” the navigator demanded, looking anxiously over his shoulder.
“I think she’s in the bay,” Phen supplied, also sounding mystified.
“Thank you,” he said, turning in that direction. Remembering what Irina had said about xenoneurophene enhancing the qualities in him it would take to defeat Chione, the Russian turned back. “I’ll need some pills.”
“Hey, brother,” Tamura began carefully. “I don’t think you want to…”
“I’ve got a quarter of a red,” Phen said, offering up a tablet to the navigator.
“Thank you.” Chekov snatched it from the Sevrinite’s grasp before Yeoman Tamura could block the exchange.
The navigator put the tablet to his lips, then paused and pulled it back.
“Merciful God and all the Saints have mercy on my miserable soul,” he said for the benefit of his Russian Orthodox grandmother. He then spit to ward off the evil eye for his Jewish grandmother. Finally he turned to them and in honor of his atheist father confirmed, “Religion truly is the opiate of the masses” before downing the tablet and running towards the cargo bay.
“I think he’s having a freak out,” Phen decided.
“Yeah,” Sakura agreed, pulling out of his arms.
“You might not want to follow him,” the youth advised, keeping a grip on her.
“Why not?”
“This kind of stuff goes down every once in a while,” he said, looking uncomfortable. “Negative energy just overwhelms some cats some time. I don’t know why, but they usually go after Chione or Irina.”
Sakura was less than surprised. “Really?”
“Don’t worry. They know how to handle it,” Phen assured her. “But if you’re there during a freak-out, sometimes you get freaked... And I mean freaked really bad.”
“Yeah.” She purposively disentangled herself. “I think I’m going to have to risk it.”
All the wisdom of the motherfuckin’ universe, Del sighed to himself as he continued to dodge, roll, send out bolts of energy and then dodge and roll again. An’ I still not figure this out.
The beast screamed her displeasure at him, but they both knew she was still winning. She had already had him within kissing distance of death more than once. The power centers that had been opened were merely booster packs that delayed – not prevented-- the inevitable.
Think, Engineer, he ordered himself. How can I be hurtin’ this t'ing wit'out damagin’ it?
He examined the whirling maelstrom with a critical eye as he unleashed a stinging bolt of power into it.
Maybe she able to hide the damage, he considered.
But no, the beast was only hiding one thing.
The open heart. The bleeding wound.
He sighed as he dodged the silver malice that was aimed at him. Not that shit again. Irina, he realized peripherally, was hiding something. It occurred to him that this was her strongest natural ability – the ability to hide. It was this ability that had simultaneously served her and her mission well and sealed her doom.
He wanted to spend more time considering this idea and probing for the hidden thing, but the beast was on the offensive once more and something else began to bother Del. There was something he should be looking out for. Something that was hard to remember because it was so easy to forget…
“Oooff.” The impact of a body crashing into his slammed Del back into reality.
“Oh, shit,” he swore.
“Pavel, no!” Irina was shouting.
“Chekov, you idiot,” DelMonde groaned, pulling himself back up to his hands and knees. Jus’ when you t'ink t'ings not get any more fucked up…
He turned in time to see the Russian shake his lover off and grab Chione by the neck.
The blonde’s eyes went wide with pleasure/terror. She opened her mouth and a weird growling laughter began to issue forth from her. It was an indescribably foul sound that hurt the soul to hear.
Del could see the thing he had forecast happening before his eyes. The beast, caught in mid-attack, poured its malevolence into Chekov. Del caught a horrifying glimpse of what having no shielding looked like from the outside. It was like watching a pure white filter getting splattered with spent fuel oil, the only difference being that the oil filter was a human soul and the fuel oil was spirit-withering evil.
Chekov’s teeth were bared. His hands closed tightly around her neck as if he wished to cut off that sound. “You whore,” he growled in Russian. “You black-hearted bitch. You die now. You die!”
Perhaps, Del considered, he’d been wrong. It wasn’t that Chekov’s mind would actively absorb energy from the beast; it was just that the navigator was so completely defenseless… As Del watched, the flow of energy began to change. Like the human body will sometimes mistakenly nourish a cancer, Chekov’s ignorant, unguarded soul began to suckle on the beast’s evil.
“No, Pavel!” Irina reached out to pull him back. However, when her hand made contact, she screamed in agony.
Del knocked her away with the same sort of flying tackle Chekov had used to break his contact with the beast. “Don’t touch him,” he warned. “He’s becomin’…”
Before Del could even begin to explain the danger, the boundary between the real world and the astral world began to tear. The beast was aiding and magnifying Chekov’s dysfunctional new ability. The navigator was drawing not only all the beast’s evil into himself, but all of the different varieties of energy present all around them. Even the ghosts began to be sucked out of the walls. The Russian had become the wind tunnel and they were all nothing but flying sheets of paper.
“Hold on!” Del wrapped his arms around Irina and dug his heels into reality as it began to shred around him. “Hold on!”
“Die! Die! Die!” Chekov was straddling Chione now. He was using his grip to beat her head against the deck.
She was limp in his grasp, still laughing/roaring.
Del’s angels held onto his throat and sang,
Rape, murder!
It’s just a shot away
It’s just a shot away
“It’s working!” Irina gasped as her lover took more and more of the beast within himself.
Rape, murder!
It’s just a shot away
It’s just a shot away
Del shook his head. “Not the way we want it to.”
“Die, bitch!” Chekov’s voice had begun to take on characteristics of the beast.
“Kill me, Daddy!” Chione laughed/cried.
And suddenly it was perfectly clear to Del. Despite his good intentions, Chekov was not killing the beast. He had been trapped into enacting a ritual to bring about the birth of the goddess. Either Irina had tricked him, or even she had been unknowingly manipulated by the beast.
Rape, murder!
It’s just a shot away
It’s just a shot away
The beating Chekov was giving her was only was the beginning of the reenactment of the death of Chione’s soul – the very first thing that made possible the birth of the dark goddess. He would rape her as her father had. He would then murder her as her father had her mother. And then with Chione’s death, the goddess could finally be born.
The open heart. The bleeding wound.
“We gotta stop this!” Del shouted, deciding to assume Irina was either a dupe in the beast’s game or might be having second thoughts about delivering her boyfriend up to the ravening monster.
“How?” Irina screamed back.
Not puzzle time again, the Cajun thought, examining Chekov for structural flaws that would allow them to damage the beast. In the midst of doing so, Del decided this was the wrong approach. The problem was not in getting into Chekov. The problem, his brain told him, was with flow, not structure. “Open him up – the way you did me!”
She closed her eyes and shook her head. “It won’t work.”
“What the motherfuck we got to motherfuckin’ lose?” he asked. When she nodded, DelMonde released her and got back up onto his knees. He steeled himself as he reached out for the navigator’s back.
Now this may smart a little, he warned the angels.
Searing agony ripped through him as he came in contact with the beast, pulling it off its prey/master.
In the shreds of the astral plane still visible to him, Del could see the beast reach back with giant claws.
You, too, will die now, it promised him in heavily accented Standard. Die most horribly, Servant of Despair.
All this an' a cool nickname too? he said, firming his grip as much as was possible for someone being burned to death. He turned the navigator away from Chione. “Now, Irina, now!”
“So you have abandoned me, Reeny.” Chione said, lying on her back laughing weakly. “It’s all right. You see, it’s not just my birthday. It’s my wedding day too. I still have my bridegroom. He’ll deal with you. Come, bridegroom, come!”
Something was tearing Sulu to shreds. He braced himself against the wall of the cabin and looked down at his arms and legs expecting them to be ripped and bloody. This wasn’t physical though. It was in his mind. Perhaps in his soul.
“No!” he moaned, putting his hands to his head as if that could protect the already unsteady moorings of his sanity.
There was a momentary cessation, then one final, irresistible jerk at his being. It was as if a switch deep inside him was thrown.
Tongo roused enough to moan, “Kam...”
“Yes, that’s right,” Kam answered, smiling as he kicked Rad back to unconsciousness. “Kamikaze, at your service.” He turned for the door. “And at Hers.”
Go To Part Twenty-Two
Return To Part Twenty
Gimme Shelter by The Rolling Stones