Return to Valjiir Stories
Ruth came to consciousness with the awareness of a warmer than Human hand gently clasping hers.
“Husband,” she sighed, and opened her eyes.
“Welcome home, my wife,” Spock returned softly.
She sat up and embraced him. “It’s over,” she murmured.
“Not quite,” was the Vulcan’s response. “Your system is at a precarious balance. We have yet to find any way to purge the xeno and amyneurophene from your system.”
“But the neurotoxin’s gone?” she asked.
“Not entirely. You will need several more antitoxin treatments.”
“Sulu, Del – are they alright?”
“Like yourself, Mr. Sulu will require several more injections. Mr. DelMonde seems to have escaped the neurotoxin, but the concentration of the xeno/amyneurophene cocktail in his bloodstream is quite high.”
“Yeah,” Ruth affirmed. “And we should thank god for it because without it, he never would’ve been able to defeat Chione.”
“He has been providing Dr. Han with as much of the details as he can,” Spock told her, “although much of it is somewhat confused and hallucinatory.”
Ruth giggled. “It was trippy, all right.”
There was silence between them for a moment and Ruth reached out to him. Husband, what is it?
“No, Ruth, you must not use your telepathic abilities. Dr. Han believes that it might activate the more dangerous aspects of the chemicals.”
The Antari frowned. “How do I stop being empathic, other than shielding, which is using my abilities?”
“Dr. McCoy suggested keeping you and Mr. Sulu and Mr. DelMonde quarantined…”
“Oh, no! I’ve been away from you for nearly a month!” Ruth protested.
“But until we can discover a way to neutralize…”
“I’ll take my chances, Spock.”
“I am not certain I wish to risk losing you permanently,” Spock returned quietly.
Ruth stared at the traces of worry in his eyes, and sighed. “And if you can’t find a way to neutralize it?”
“Then, my wife,” the Vulcan replied, again taking her into his arms, “my best guess is that we will both have to take our chances.”
Chekov took a deep breath before stepping into the wardroom where Daphne was staying. Since the medical staff seemed very determined to keep them all separated, she had the whole room to herself.
She didn’t seem to notice him at first. He thought she looked very pretty sitting there reading some sort of report in her blue Sickbay gown. He cleared his throat.
Gollub turned and gave him an imperially cool stare. “Oh,” she said, as if she’d been expecting someone else. “It’s you.”
“Yes.” The navigator folded his hands behind his back uncomfortably. “I was told I could speak to you if I was careful not to tire or upset you.”
“Oh?” She put aside the reader and smiled sharply. “So, it’s to be a short visit, then?”
“Daphne…” he began, then faltered. All the speeches he had rehearsed suddenly seemed insufficient to the occasion. Instead he found himself smiling at her stupidly.
She frowned. “What?”
“You look lovely,” he said coming a step closer. She had her hair piled up on top of her head in curls in a manner that he had always found particularly attractive.
“I am,” she said smugly. “Thank you for noticing.” She gave him a critical once over. “You look a little less drugged out than you did the last time I saw you.”
“Yes.” He had not been put back on to the active duty roster, but after a relatively brief initial treatment, the doctors had allowed him to return to his own cabin to shower and change into some decent clothing. “I suppose I do.”
“So,” she began coldly. “I suppose you’ve said your fond farewells to your Loonie goddess?”
Chekov blinked. “What?”
Daffy sniffed contemptuously. “Your recently not-so-ex-girlfriend.”
“Irina?” It was painful to even say her name.
“Who the hell else would I be talking about?”
The navigator suddenly felt weak. Since there was no other place to sit down, he leaned against the foot of Daphne’s bed. “Didn’t they tell you?”
“Tell me what?”
“She’s…” Chekov hesitated. Saying would make it more agonizingly real. “She’s dead.”
“Oh.”
Both of them fell silent for a moment.
The navigator looked at the bluish metal of the sickbay bed frame. He could hear the soft throbbing of the monitors as they measured the beating of Daphne’s heart. It occurred to him that no monitor would ever register Irina’s heart ever again. Her heart was gone now.
“How did that happen?” Daphne was asking.
“She was helping us defeat Chione,” he forced himself to reply.
“Helping?”
“Yes.” Regardless of whether or not it was going to offend her, Chekov had to sit down. He took a place at the foot of the bed. “She revealed that she was an undercover Starfleet Intelligence agent who had been planted in Sevrin’s organization during the time she was at the Academy.”
“Which was why she left you then?” Gollub concluded.
“Yes.”
“And Chione killed her?”
He shook his head as the whole terrible scene played itself out unstoppably in his head. “She killed herself… and Chione.”
“Oh.”
Another long silence fell between the two of them.
It was broken by the sound of Daffy slamming her hand down against the shelf beside her bed. “Damn!”
“What?”
“I had a lot of things prepared to say to you, but 90% of them depended on her being alive and villainous,” Gollub explained, exasperated. “But now she’s managed to screw that up for me too.”
Chekov didn’t know how to reply. In the end he decided to go with, “I’m very sorry, Daphne.”
“Yeah.” The chemist took in a deep breath and considered the new information. “Wow… Two girlfriends shot out from under you in one day. That’s got to be some kind of record.”
“And not a very pleasant one,” he agreed.
Gollub growled in frustration. “This is so screwed up!” she exclaimed.
“I’m sorry,” he said again.
“I’m going to cave,” she said, shaking her head. “I can’t believe I’m going to cave.”
“Daphne?” In alarm, Chekov checked the life signs on the monitor above her. “Should I call the doctor?”
“No, nudnik. Not faint,” she explained impatiently. “Cave. Give in. Bow to the fact that I’m hurting, you’re hurting, and we’re both sick and tired of being hurt and hurting each other. And so I’m just going to open my loving arms and loving legs and say, 'It’s okay, bubee' —which it’s not because you cheated on me.”
“I…” Chekov faltered. To say he was sorry again was such an understatement it didn’t seem worth saying.
“In the line of duty be damned,” she replied heatedly. “You cheated on me.”
“Yes.” He bowed his head in shame. “It was inexcusable.”
“Oh, really?” she said, deciding that she could salvage a bit of Speech 85 part B. “So if I were to draw an assignment where I had to sleep with someone from my past who I still had feelings for, and you found yourself in the place I am right now then you wouldn’t forgive me? Is that what you’re saying?”
“Well…” The navigator’s tired brain refused to grapple with that objectionable possibility. “Perhaps we shouldn’t create unpleasant hypotheticals…”
“When we have yet to deal with unpleasant realities?”
“Exactly.”
“I know.” She set her mouth in a stubborn line and looked away. “Which is why I shouldn’t cave.”
He nodded and looked down at her hand. Even her hand looked incredibly beautiful to him. She must have used some of the time she’d been confined to bed to do her nails. They looked perfect. He longed to simply touch that clean white hand – to reassure himself that she was indeed real and alive. Would that be too much to ask at this moment?
Without daring to look up, he put his hand next to hers on the bed sheet – not touching, simply nearby. Her hand trembled a little but didn’t move.
After another long silent moment, he carefully stretched out two fingertips and let them brush ever so softly against hers. When she didn’t move, he couldn’t stop himself tracing a line up from her perfectly tapered nails to her delicate wrist feeling incredibly grateful that he had the opportunity to do so. He tried not to think about the hand of another beautiful woman he’d never be able to touch again.
Although she remained silent, after a few more moments Daphne’s hand turned under his so that their palms slid together and their fingers intertwined.
When he looked up, tears were on her cheeks.
“Please forgive me, Daphne.” His own vision clouded over and his voice broke on the words. “I’m so sorry.”
She pulled him to her and they clung together.
“I never wanted to hurt you,” he whispered into her ear as he kissed her neck.
“I know.” She wiped her eyes and pulled back far enough to look at him directly. “But you did.”
He nodded, but kept his arms around her. “Dafshka, no words exist that sufficiently express my regret. I can only say that I am sorry. And I am. I am so very sorry.”
She let him kiss her again. “I know,” she said, wiping her lipstick from his cheek with her thumb. “And when we’re both a little stronger… and have had a chance to get some perspective on all this… and have calmed down… and had some good breakup sex… then you do know that I am still going to yell at you about this. Right?”
Chekov couldn’t keep himself from smiling. “That sounds perfectly reasonable.”
Daffy was having trouble keeping the corners of her mouth from turning up as well. “And I do mean really yell,” she warned.
He kissed the finger she shook at him. “Yes. Of course.”
“Probably more than once.”
“That’s only to be expected,” he murmured agreeably as he brushed his lips against her wrist.
“And that’s not even counting the number of unpleasant hypotheticals I plan to raise…”
He kissed her shoulder then her neck. “I look forward to it.”
“Oh, please!” she protested. “That’s a lie.”
Chekov held her in his arms tightly, wanting nothing more from life in that moment. The idea of returning to their tumultuous version of normality seemed like an incredibly precious gift that the fates had bestowed on him with astonishing generosity. The thought of after having lost her with such finality being able to be with her, make love to her, even argue with her was almost unbearably sweet.
“No, my Dafshka,” he said, before claiming her lips again. “It’s not.”
The Divine Wind was whispering in the back of his mind. He couldn’t make out what it was saying, but it seemed highly amused at something – and not in a good way. There was a sense of derision and ridicule and it had something to do with Tongo Rad…
Go away, Sulu told it wearily and the vague presence vanished. It was immediately replaced by another presence; sweet, fresh, gentle, tinged with a bitter olive green yet with a strong, glowing silver core.
“Sulu?” Jilla’s voice whispered as he opened his eyes. He smiled, sitting up in the Sickbay bed and she came to his arms.
“Gods, I missed you!” he whispered back.
“And I, you,” she returned. He kissed her and held it, never wanting it to end. Her emotions filled him, strength and safety and warmth, and he returned them to her, adding surety and devotion and release. The tastes and colors mingled in his mind, blending and growing, each feeding the other, becoming more powerful and more overwhelming, taking on a life of its own, feeding, growing…
“Dr. McCoy suggested keeping you and Mr. Sulu and Mr. DelMonde quarantined…”
“Oh, no! I’ve been away from you for nearly a month!”
“But until we can discover a way to neutralize…”
“I’ll take my chances, Spock.”
“And when we’re both a little stronger… and have had a chance to get some perspective on all this… and have calmed down… and had some good breakup sex… then you do know that I am still going to yell at you about this. Right?”
“That sounds perfectly reasonable.”
“And I do mean really yell”
“Yes. Of course.”
“Probably more than once.”
“That’s only to be expected.”
“And that’s not even counting the number of unpleasant hypotheticals I plan to raise…”
“I look forward to it.”
“Oh, please! That’s a lie.”
“Sulu, what…?” Jilla gasped as the helmsman pulled abruptly away from her.
“You feed it,” he said and Jilla blinked in confusion. “My empathy, it’s been amped up by the chemicals and…”
“Toes melting,” Jilla replied softly.
“Not exactly,” Sulu frowned. “I can – overhear – overfeel other conversations.” He shook his head grimly. “I don’t like it.”
Jilla’s full lips almost pouted. “Dr. McCoy…”
“Wants to quarantine me, I know,” the helmsman returned.
The Indiian’s eyebrow rose. “How did you…?” she began.
“I overheard it,” Sulu said, but he was still frowning.
“My love – ” Jilla said, then paused. “Is this – overhearing – dangerous?”
“I don’t know,” Sulu admitted, “but I don’t know how to stop it.”
There was silence between them, then Jilla reached up, unfastening the chain she wore. Sulu smiled gently as she slipped his ring off it. He held out his left hand, and with a slight blush, Jilla placed it on his ring finger.
“Ah, that feels better,” Sulu murmured. Then he gazed into her grey eyes. “Hon,” he began uncertainly. “I was faithful, you know that, but… there were a few times when I… with the chemicals and my empathy… there were a couple of close…”
Jilla put soft fingers to his lips. “You cannot help how your emotions respond, my love,” she said. “There is no need for explanation. You did only what you needed to do, and felt only what you could not help feeling.” Her smile was warm and forgiving. “I understand.”
I told you, The Divine Wind whispered arrogantly, and Sulu shuddered.
Jeremy Paget watched as Dr. Han escorted Sulu to one of the medical isolation rooms. McCoy led Ruth to a second, Chapel taking DelMonde to a third. The security officer sighed. From Daffy’s report – not to mention her own still-weak condition, the isolation would have to last a whole lot longer than was gonna be good for Kam and his little one. Jilla was standing at the observation window, looking particularly small and fragile. Jeremy got up from his own Sickbay bed, careful with his still-bruised ribs, and moved to stand behind her.
“It’s gonna be okay, Lady,” he murmured.
“What is the real danger?” she asked, without turning.
Paget scratched his no-longer-neatly shaped beard. “There’s no tellin’,” he answered honestly. “Xenoneurophene has never been fully studied, and nobody even heard of amyneurophene before.”
“The records from the Base will provide some answers, will they not?” The Indiian questioned, still not looking at him.
“That’s the hope. NC– Noel DelMonde didn’t get the neurotoxin, and so far the xenoneurophene hasn’t seemed to have much of a saturation effect on him…”
“Saturation effect?”
“Yeah.” Paget cleared his throat. “Daffy explained that sometimes if the brain gets saturated with the stuff, it spills over to the lower parts, the ones that control autonomous bodily functions.”
Jilla’s soft intake of breath as she finally turned to him conveyed all the fear that was already a painful lump in the TerAfrican’s heart.
“But as I said,” he quickly reassured, “NC’s got the most of it in him, and he seems okay.”
“Will not the chemical dissipate naturally when no more is being ingested?” The Indiian asked.
“We surely hope so, Lady.”
“And if it does not?”
Paget tried to grin. “Then I guess they’ll all just have to learn to cope with new abilities – and be monitored for any potential long-term risk.”
“Then the quarantine will be lifted?”
“I think, Jilla, that if there’s no saturation effect in the next couple of days, they’re out of the woods.”
“Out of the…?”
“It means they’re out of danger, referring to woods – forests – as a place of unknowns.”
Her head bent. “I see.”
Jeremy stared down at the top of her head, longing to take her into a comforting embrace. But from all that Sulu had told him, he knew that such an intimate gesture would make the pretty Indiian far more uncomfortable than it would help her feel safe. “I’m gonna be on board for a while,” he said instead. “If you need someone to talk to…”
“Thank you, Jeremy,” was her soft reply and he smiled, unable to stop himself from reaching out and patting her arm – as unable as he was to stop the shiver of desire.
“Is she gonna be alright?” Sakura said as she stepped up to Jeremy. Paget was still watching Jilla’s back as she moved out of Sickbay.
“Yeah,” he responded absently. “She’s worried – like we all are – but…”
“Good thing she doesn’t know how much she has to be worried about,” the yeoman murmured.
Jeremy turned to her. “You’re talkin’ about Kam, aren’t you?” he asked.
“With my concussion and your broken ribs, who else would I be talking about?”
“Yeah.” Paget frowned. “Saki, how much do you know…”
“About how Sulu sometimes seems to be more than one person?” She sighed. “He was always different on amber.”
“Yeah, that, but I meant… him and Cal.”
Sakura shuddered. “More than I want to.”
“According to the records on Dreamland….” Jeremy began.
“… he was a guinea pig for whatever sick-fuck experiment Ruis Sick-Fuck and Admiral Sick-Fuck put together,” Daffy Gollub’s voice broke in. Both Jeremy and Sakura turned as the chemist strode up to them.
“Daffodil, shouldn’t you be…” Paget began again.
“Oy, if I sit around much longer I’ll be as meshugina as Cajun,” Daffy said. “And you two have as much farkockta brain juice in you as I have.”
“True,” Sakura agreed amiably.
“So what did bad old Kamikaze do down there after I was shot in the back?” Daffy asked, grinning up at Paget.
“Daf, the Loonies were gonna kill you,” Jeremy tried to explain.
“And you decided you’d beat them to it? Or maybe you figured such things should come from old friends rather than strangers?”
“Well, I figured it was a better idea to have it look like I’d killed you rather than for them to really kill you,” the security officer replied sternly.
Daffy made a face. “Yeah, okay, there is that,” she conceded with absolutely no grace.
“And I did make sure the Enterprise was in range to beam you up and resuscitate you,” Jeremy continued.
“Yeah, yeah…”
“… and you were fuckin’ up the mission big time…”
“… when I wasn’t providing invaluable Genius Chemist services…”
"… and without your report to Kirk and Spock, we’d all still be down there waitin’ for some damn other shoe to drop…”
“… with Kamikaze acting in his not-so-usual-for-him-anymore evil yet delicious and irresistible manner,” Daffy concluded. “Okay, I get it. Thanks.”
Pavel had quietly entered Sickbay, waiting for an opportune time to join the conversation, and Daffy’s words stopped him cold.
His not-so-usual-for-him-anymore evil yet delicious and irresistible manner? he thought. Sulu is evil and delicious?
“I beg your pardon?” came out of his mouth before he thought to stop it. The three other officers turned to face him.
There was an uncomfortable silence, then Paget cleared his throat. “Ah, Chekov, when Sulu was younger…”
“At the Clave,” Tamura put in.
“Well, you know things were wild there…”
“He knows,” Daffy said, rolling her eyes.
“About his promiscuity and chemical usage, yes,” Chekov said, frowning at Daffy. “There was more to it than that?”
Paget and Tamura exchanged glances. “He was sometimes a little…” the yeoman began.
“… dark,” Paget finished. “A little…”
“…decadent, and…” Sakura returned.
“… sometimes there was a little – uh – S and M…” Jeremy hedged.
“… and B and D…” Tamura continued.
“Like he knows what that means,” Daffy broke in. “Listen, bubee, he was into sado-masochistic games, and bondage and discipline. S and M. B and D. Get it?”
Chekov flushed. “I understand the terminology, Daphne,” he muttered. “And this was found – irresistible?”
Paget shrugged and Tamura grimaced. “When he’s – he’s got this – aura… this attractive and compelling aura about him and…” Sakura stopped, then sighed. “You really have to experience it, Pavel,” she said.
“No, I do not,” was the Russian’s stern reply.
“But he isn’t like that,” the TerAfrican defended. “Not anymore.”
“Not so much,” Sakura affirmed.
“Except when he’s cruising his little brains out – like he was the past month,” Daffy corrected.
Chekov stared at them for a long moment. Then he focused his gaze on Daffy. “And so he is…” His voice became very soft. “Dafshka, is Sulu irresistible to you?”
“Oy geveult, no!” she snapped.
“Pavel, she never – uh – succumbed to his charms,” Sakura put in gently.
“Not then, not now,” Daffy confirmed, scowling at Pavel. “Not ever.”
“But if he is – was indeed irresistible…” Pavel began again.
Daffy reached up and smacked the back of his head. “I’m able to withstand temptation, you schmuck.”
With a relieved sigh, Pavel stepped closer to her, sliding his arm around her waist. She stuck her tongue out at him, but didn’t move away. He only half listened when Paget and Tamura began describing what had happened while he had been wrestling with Chione, and firmly refused to think about the vestigial images of dark power that swirled in the back of his mind – or about Irina.
As Paget was apologizing to Daffy for having shot her in the back – a total of five times since Chekov had joined the conversation – the navigator realized that there was something he needed to say to the security officer. It wasn’t going to be easy, particularly since a part of him insisted that his reaction had been justified – but he had every intention of burying that part along with certain other memories of the past standard month.
He cleared his throat. “Mr. Paget, I wish to apologize.”
Paget turned to him “For what?”
“Threatening to kill you,” came the uneasy reply.
Jeremy smiled and shrugged. “Considering what you thought I’d done, I thought I was gettin’ off easy.”
“More than that,” the navigator continued seriously. “Throughout the mission, I failed to conduct myself properly.”
“We were undercover,” Sakura Tamura put in. “None of us were supposed to be acting proper. If anything, you were acting too properly.”
“Yeah,” Paget agreed, putting an arm around her. “It all turned out good, though.”
“I failed,” the Russian persisted, “on several occasions to give you the deference and respect due to the Mission Commander.”
“Well,” Paget replied, the Security professional in him unable to resist this opportunity to make a point. “That is true. And at times it was a problem.”
Daffy snorted. “Like any of the rest of us were listening to you.”
“That’s true too,” Paget agreed ruefully. “And was also a problem at times. In fact, I’ve been thinkin’ that Kirk and Spock should consider conductin' a little refresher course entitled “The Chain of Command: Recognizing That You’re Not Always at the Top of It” for a few people whose names I won’t mention – except that it’s primarily the two of you…”
“I was good,” Sakura pointed out.
“You were perfect,” Paget agreed, kissing her on the top of her head. “And my report will state as much.”
The navigator drew in a resolute breath before beginning, “If you elect to recommend disciplinary action in your report…”
“Oh, God, Tovarish!” Jeremy exclaimed, rolling his eyes. “You are stiff!”
Daffy shook her head. “When are we gonna stop talking like Loonies?”
“Soon I hope,” Tamura replied. “Yeoman Chebueze came in to tell me that he had overwritten one of my scheduling templates while I was gone and I actually said, ‘Forget it brother; I reach.’”
“Listen, Chekov,” Paget said seriously. “You drew a difficult assignment this time. My assignment was to see that you got it done. Yeah, we did butt heads a couple of times, but I see that as a reflection of how tough your job was -- not how tough you were tryin’ to make mine.”
“And we did get the job done,” Sakura pointed out.
“Exactly,” Paget agreed. “So as far as disciplinary action goes…” He made a show of earnestly considering for a few moments before coming up with, “I’ll just give you a good spanking right now and we’ll call it even, okay?”
“Hey,” Gollub protested. “If anyone’s going to spank him…”
Sakura clapped her hands gleefully. “Can I watch?”
“I do have an appointment with Dr. Han that I must be getting to…” Chekov said, carefully backing away and looking less than entirely sure that they were joking.
“Oh, Moscow,” Tamura pouted. “You’re such a Herbert.”
“Ain’t that the sledging truth?” Gollub agreed.
“Thank you for being understanding, Mr. Paget,” the navigator said seriously.
Jeremy smiled and shrugged. “I’m sure things will be different next time.”
“Oh,” Chekov shook his head and laughed. “I am certain that, for me at least, there will not be a next time. After this, Starfleet will never send me on another undercover assignment.”
“I wouldn’t be so sure,” Paget warned with a grin. “I learned long ago that Starfleet’s ways are too mysterious to predict. And as my mama might say, ‘Never say never, child.’”