Return to Valjiir Stories
“I can remember waking up like this,” Sakura said without moving. She was curled like a cat at the bottom of the wide bunk in one of the drab little side cabins. Brown and bronze legs served as her pillows.
“Me too.” Even before opening his eyes, Sulu realized the warm body he had wrapped himself around was that of his friend.
“Me three.” Paget smiled and enjoyed the moment while it lasted. In order to perpetuate Kamikaze’s reputation as a sexual adventurer without Sulu having to do much to prove it, they had decided that the three of them would pose as lovers.
“Guess we’d better…” Sulu began but quickly found Sakura’s weight on his legs had him pinned in place.
Tamura yawned loudly. “Not time to get up yet.”
Sulu sighed and settled back in place. “Sorry, Jer.”
“I’m fine,” Paget assured his friend.
“This is going to be hard, isn’t it?” the helmsman asked apologetically. After a beat, though, he grinned and answered with his friend, “It already is.” The two of them giggled together like twelve-year-olds at the double entendre.
“Hey.” One of the Sevrinites, a young man with white hair and bluish skin popped his head through the door. “ You’re supposed to be a pilot, aren’t you?” he asked Sulu.
“Yeah,” the helmsman laughed. “Supposed to be.”
“Wanna pull a shift, brother?”
“Sure.” Sulu was surprised and encouraged by this offhanded show of trust on the part of the Sevrinites.
Jeremy lifted the sleepy yeoman up to facilitate his friend’s escape.
Sulu looked for his boots before realizing they weren’t beside his bed. When he got to the door, the white-haired youth held out his hand.
“Here’s a little something to take the edge off,” the Sevrinite said.
In his palm was a small golden geltab.
The helmsman froze as if the young man was holding a viper.
“The girls said it’s what you like.”
Sulu licked his lips without being aware he was doing so. It wasn’t a full dose. Maybe a quarter tab. Nothing he couldn’t handle, he told himself. Just a little something, as the Sevrinite had said, to take the edge off.
“Yeah.” He stopped himself from looking back at Jeremy for permission. “It’s what I like.”
The young man grinned and popped the pill into the helmsman’s mouth like it was a harmless confection. “Enjoy, brother.”
The amber melted in Sulu’s mouth like liquid sunshine. His body absorbed it as greedily as water in a desert. He could feel almost forgotten sensations beginning to tingle and flow down all his nerve endings.
“Let’s go.” The white-haired boy’s hand on his shoulder returned him temporarily to reality.
“Yeah.” Sulu grinned. Piloting on amber. The perfect way to start any day… “Let’s go.”
Jeremy sighed and settled Sakura comfortably before following them out into the main cabin. He was in time to see the two of them exit in the direction of the cockpit. The room was empty except for Ruth, who was picking out a tune on the boshzier. Behind her, Del was sprawled out on some pillows. Although unconscious, the engineer’s lips moved in some restless dream.
“What happened to him?” Paget asked, reloading the hookah.
“Our pal Lace found some sapphire for him,” Ruth said with a sharp smile, “because she remembered it was his very favorite-est.”
“Yeah.” Paget took a mouthpiece and settled down next to her. “Sulu got the breakfast of champions too. It was a small dose, though, wasn’t it?”
“Yes,” Valley’s smile got even more false. “I guess that’s why he felt he had to take three of them.”
Jeremy sighed and casually checked the engineer’s pulse. “Has our ‘opportunity’ come to pass yet?” he asked pushing up one of DelMonde’s eyelids with his thumb.
“Come and gone.” Ruth continued to strum her tune which Paget vaguely remembered as a song about what fools people make of themselves. “You guys slept for 12 hours. “
“That’s why I’m so hungry,” Jeremy replied stealing a roll from the platter on the table nearest to them. “Good thing, though. We’re not gonna be cool -- pilot-wise -- for a few hours.”
Ruth stopped strumming. “I’m not feeling too cool -- anything-wise -- with this right now.”
Paget could sympathize. Watching the Sevrinite feed Sulu amber certainly made him want to pick up his marbles and go home. And he knew it was only going to get worse…
“Y’gotta let it happen, girl,” he advised, nonetheless. Jeremy inhaled a long, slow drag of Rigellian. “This is their M.O. -- divide and conquer. They want us vulnerable, isolated, and open to manipulation. We gotta let 'em feel it’s workin'.”
“Well...” Ruth discontentedly started a different tune. “The wounded puppy routine is certainly working for Chekov. Madvig and the red haired girl have been hovering over him like barmaids hustling for tips.”
“Yeah.” Paget looked around for the Russian. “Where is he?”
Ruth indicated the cabin behind them with her thumb. “Daffy said she was going to try to slip him some venus.”
Jeremy thought he could discern muffled voices from that direction. “It sounds like they’re fightin'.”
Valley shrugged. “I think it always sounds like they’re fighting.”
Paget took another lungful of Rigellian.
“Why are they so interested in him?” Ruth asked after a moment. “Not that he’s not as wonderful as Daffy thinks he is…”
“But he’s not a Moon Priestess or anything,” Jeremy teased.
“The last thing I am is jealous.”
“Don’t worry, they’ll come after you soon enough.”
“I can hardly wait,” Valley drawled sarcastically. “Do you think Chekov’s old girlfriend is still hung up on him?”
“Dunno. But from what I hear of her, she’s not the type of gal who’s gonna go around hurtin' for male companionship.” Jeremy blew out a thoughtful stream of smoke. “I think our boy Pav’s appeal is tied to the ‘you were there at the end’ stuff.”
“Hmmm.” Ruth nodded. “Converting a Fed who was on the scene for the sainted Sevrin’s death might be a coup for them.”
“Particularly if they wanted to legitimize an alternate account of events.”
“Really?” Valley’s fingers stopped moving. “You think they want to say something like that instead of jumping out of the shuttlecraft, he was pushed?”
“Possibly. The organization has gone from an emphasis on freedom to an emphasis on justice.”
“So maybe they want to invent a great injustice to mobilize supporters?” Ruth chewed this over as she started her tune over from the beginning. “Do you think they can get Chekov to say what they want him to?”
“I dunno. We gotta let 'em try.” Paget couldn’t stop himself from looking at the door leading to the cockpit. “We gotta let 'em think they have a shot.”
“Oh, Jer.” Ruth sighed and looked over to where Del lay. “What are we going to do?”
“What we have to,” Paget replied. “We’re gonna look after our boys.”
“And who’s going to look after us?”
“Well,” Jeremy smiled. “I’ll look after you. You look after Sakura. Gypsy will look after me…”
“… And Daffy will take care of us all?” Valley suggested satirically.
“And here she is now,” Paget said as the chemist stormed in.
“That fucking schmuck!” Gollub muttered darkly as she snatched a mouthpiece from the hookah. “I’m so fucking broken up with him.”
Paget raised an eyebrow. “I’ve never heard of anyone breaking up on venus.”
“Yeah, well..” Gollub gestured dismissively. “That was fight number one.”
“You’re numbering them now?” Ruth asked.
“This was a triple header,” Daffy informed them. “I was sort of baked when I tried to spike his drink so of course I got busted and of course he was a prick about it and we had to have a big conversation about what I a bad person I am…”
“Which led to a conversation about what a bad person he is…” Valley predicted.
“Self-righteous, uptight, little prick,” Gollub confirmed.
“And that was fight number two?” Paget guessed.
“Oh, no. That was just fight number one part b.”
“Let me guess,” Ruth began. “Then the two of you... reconciled?”
“Like crazed weasels – as usual,” Daffy admitted, taking a drag of Rigellian. “And that led to fight number two.”
“Because…?” Jeremy prompted.
“Because although I don’t speak Russian, I do know that my name doesn’t begin with ‘Irina’ in any language.”
“Ooooo,” Paget winced. “Definite party foul.”
“And there was a fight number three after that fight?” Ruth asked. “I wouldn’t have thought he’d survive fight number two after calling out the wrong name in the middle of a good... reconcilement.”
“Okay, we’re in the middle of fight number two, calmly discussing the matter at the top of our fucking lungs when Miss Madvig prances her loony ass in and is all like ‘Am I crossing you, brethren?’ and Mr. Perfect says, ‘Vhy no, come on in, I vas just breaking up vith my girlfriend.’”
“Can’t imagine why he wanted to get out of that conversation...” Ruth observed.
“Look, Daf,” Jeremy soothed. “Madvig’s targeting him. She wants him vulnerable and isolated. She’s going to try to break the two of you up.”
“Too fucking late for that now,” Gollub replied adamantly.
At that moment, Madvig entered the main cabin leading Chekov out by the hand. “Think about it, okay?” she was saying.
“Well, I…” the Russian mumbled.
“First thing we need to do is to get you out of those clothes,” the Sevrinite said, tugging at Chekov’s collar.
There was a strangling noise as Daffy’s throatful of Rigellian went down the wrong way.
“All of you need to get into something… normal,” Madvig said, turning to them with a warm smile. “I’ll get Diona to bring some things for you guys to try on.”
“Thanks.” Jeremy said as Gollub coughed and sputtered.
“Be at peace, brother,” Madvig said, giving Chekov’s hand a final squeeze before exiting.
The Russian self-consciously hid that hand behind his back before turning resolutely towards his girlfriend. “Daphne, I would like to… continue our discussion, please.”
“Go right ahead, schmuck,” Gollub invited.
Chekov cleared his throat apologetically in Paget and Valley’s direction. “Not here,” he said gesturing to the cabin he’d just left.
Daffy blew a defiant smoke ring at him. “You still connected to privacy, huh?”
“Very much so,” he replied, casting a resentful glance in the direction the Sevrinite had taken.
“What did Madvig say to you?” Paget asked.
“Nothing,” the Russian replied to his feet.
“Chekov…” Jeremy warned.
The navigator sighed heavily. “She says I need to…” He paused to roll his eyes. “…confront my negative energy.”
Ruth grinned. “So you came to talk to Daffy?”
“Bitch,” her friend accused.
“Whore,” she replied easily.
“Slut,” Gollub returned without rancor.
“Negative energy person.”
“Chakra hugger.”
“Warm fuzzy sledger.”
“Aura stroker.”
“She wants me to meditate,” Chekov interrupted.
“And she offered to teach you, right?” Gollub speculated sharply.
“Yes, actually.”
Paget nodded. “I think that’s a great idea.”
“Jer!” Gollub protested.
“I have already said no,” Chekov informed him.
“And did she take no for an answer?” Paget asked.
“Not really,” the Russian admitted grudgingly.
“Next time, say yes.”
“And what am I?” Daffy objected. “Chopped liver?”
Paget shrugged. “I thought you broke up with him.”
“Yeah, but that doesn’t mean I’m spreading him out on the bed and hanging a ‘Welcome Loony Chicks’ sign from his schwanz.”
“Daphne,” Chekov admonished, turning crimson. “I assure you that I in no way intend…”
“Look what we found!” Madvig and Diona, the red-haired girl, entered with armloads of brightly colored clothing.
“There’s lots of different sizes,” Diona promised placing a pile of women’s clothing between Daffy and Ruth. “You’ll have to try them on until you find something you like.”
“And if none of these chime,” Madvig said, handing Jeremy an armful of garments, “there’s more in the hold.”
“Thanks,” Ruth said, turning the loosely connected scraps of cloth she’d been given around and around looking for a clue as to how they were to be worn.
“Yeah.” Jeremy dangled a collection of mottled pink and orange colored triangles of material fastened together with gold chains from his fingers. “I’m sure these will be just… dandy.”
“And look.” Madvig held a flowered loin cloth up to Chekov for size. “Something like this will be perfect for you, won’t it?”
“Oh, yes.” Chekov gritted his teeth in Paget’s direction. “Just… perfect.”
"Wash away my troubles,"
Del sang, smiling at Ruth, "wash away my pain
With the rain in Shambala."
"Wash away my sorrow," she replied, not looking back at him, "wash away my shame
With the rain in Shambala."
His smile was bothering her. Normally Del's smiles were as rare as snow in the bayou. Even then, they were usually a little sad, a little cynical. The smile he'd been smiling at her ever since he'd woken up was different. It was... hungry and a little... evil. He was in a weird mood. If she didn't know he despised the drug, she could have sworn he was cruising on amber and something else she couldn't quite put her finger on.
"Everyone is helpful,"
Del crooned, "everyone is kind
On the road to Shambala."
This much was certainly true. The Sevrnites' mood had taken a definite upswing when they had finally persuaded all their guests to discard their Starfleet uniforms. At first Ruth had assumed the Edenites were merely happy about what might have seemed a psychological victory, however she quickly began to sense a definite sexual component to their excitement. Apparently, things had gotten so bad between their organization and the Federation that it was hard for them to see people in Starfleet uniforms as being attractive and available.
"Everyone is lucky,"
Ruth replied, still not looking at Del. "Everyone is so kind
On the road to Shambala."
With that inhibiting factor removed, and with three days and two nights of the Fleet people playing ‘the Good Old Days' to the hilt – at least, Ruth thought it had only been three days: it was hard to keep track of the passage of time, having become so used to a strict Starfleet schedule – the Sevrnites were now in full court press. Despite the fact that the yeoman's lips seem to be permanently attached to the hookah, Diona was sitting behind Sakura massaging her neck and shoulders. Madvig was in the corner giving Chekov a lesson in meditation techniques that seemed to necessitate her touching his face or patting his arm or leg every few minutes. Even Stupid Roger was engrossed in entertaining Daffy with a harangue she seem to find hilarious while conspicuously ignoring her boyfriend. Phen, the white-haired boy, was laying on his stomach in front of Del and Ruth, staring at them adoringly while keeping time to the music.
“How does your light shine, in the halls of Shambala,”
they sang together.
“How does your light shine, in the halls of Shambala”
“I can tell my sister by the flowers in her eyes.” Del purposefully leaned into Ruth’s line of sight.
“On the road to Shambala.”
“I can tell my brother by the flowers in his eyes,” Ruth sang back to him as if that didn’t bother her.
“On the road to Shambala.”
Damn him. Why does the bastard have to look so good? Across the room, Pavel Chekov managed to look both uncomfortable and fairly ridiculous in a neon geometric-print vest and a pair of rust colored pants. It was the most conservative choice of clothing available to him. He’d agonized for nearly an hour before settling on the garments. By contrast, Del had put on the first thing Diona and Madvig handed to him – a pair of shorts and a crimson shirt with slashed sleeves. He looked… yummy.
Ruth sighed and tried to think of something else as they repeated the chorus. Del’s control of his shielding was currently sloppy and inconsistent. When she had tried to shore up his defenses, he’d brushed her off.
“I all right, darlin’,” he’d assured her.
“No, you’re not,” she’d replied.
He’d only smiled. “Sometimes I like knowin’ what people feel,” he’d leaned close and whispered, his breath tickling her ear maddeningly. “Don’t you, cher?”
“How does your light shine, in the halls of Shambala?
How does your light shine, in the halls of Shambala?”
Phen sighed appreciatively as the song wound down to a close. “Sublime, man. That really transcended.”
“Thanks,” Ruth said absently, as Del turned to get a drink.
“Yeah,” Phen was continuing. “That completely transported me to another level… because, you know, the ship’s named the Shambala.”
“Yes,” Ruth replied, as kindly and patiently as she would have to a slow child. “I know.”
Like a slow child would not have done, Phen reached out and ran a skilled finger along the sensitive skin on the bottom of her bare foot. "I am so into you..." he said as an invitation.
“Sorry.” Without pausing to fully consider the consequences of saying such a thing out loud, Ruth instinctively jerked her thumb towards her singing partner and replied, "I'm into him."
The white-haired boy gave Del an admiring once-over. "I reach."
Hoping beyond hope that the Cajun had somehow missed this exchange, Ruth turned.
Del only smiled his hungry, vaguely evil smile and ran his fingers down the boshzier.
“If you want somet'ing to play wit',”
he sang.
“Go an' find yourself a toy.
Baby, my time is too expensive
And I not a little boy.”
Ruth strummed an accompaniment and pretended that the lyrics were not being directed at her.
“If you are serious,”
his song warned her.
"Don't play wit' my heart. It makes me furious.
But if you want me to love you
Then, baby, I will. Girl, you know that I will.”
“Tell it like it is,” she sang back to him, mentally begging him to do the opposite.
“Don't be ashamed,” he advised. “Let your conscience be your guide
But I know deep down inside me, I believe you love me.
Forget your foolish pride.”
For a moment, Ruth almost forgot that pride wasn’t the primary factor keeping her out of Del’s arms. The moment she felt she was approaching the edge of giving into her ex-lover’s call, though, a little voice in her head reminded her of where her loyalty and affection now lay.
“Life is too short to have sorrow,”
Del’s song pled for him.
“You may be here today an' gone tomorrow.
You might as well get what you want.
So go on an' live. Baby, go on an' live.”
“Tell it like it is,” his song demanded that she reply.
“I'm not'ing to play wit'.” He pointed to Phen with his eyes. “Go an' find yourself a toy.
But, ooh,
Tell it like it is
My time is too expensive
An' I not your little boy”
Del’s emotions pulled her like a vortex, using her regret, sympathy, and lingering attraction to draw her in to a space where she did not want to go. He hurt. He was in pain. And the cure was so obviously within her power…
Ruth broke off and stood before another ‘Tell it like it is’ was required of her.
“I’m suddenly very thirsty,” she announced, then patted Phen on the head. “Keep him company for me, will ya?”
The Shambala’s crew seemed to be in the middle of a shift change. It was hard to tell. Unlike on a starship, crew rotations were a casual affair that personnel took part in when and if they cared to. Ruth only suspected one was going on now because Stupid Roger had disappeared and Jeremy and Lace were ambling in.
“Good mornin’, Starshine,” Paget greeted her with a kiss on the cheek, while Lace tapped Phen on the shoulder. “We’re about twenty-three hours from wherever it is they’re taking us.”
“Okay.” Ruth filed the information away to be relayed later when she was in a less agitated state. “Where’s Sulu?”
“Oh, he’ll be along,” Jeremy’s light tone didn’t completely hide his concern for the helmsman. “…Eventually.”
“He’s cruising,” Ruth said voicing the conclusion she’d come to much earlier.
“Oh, yeah,” Paget confirmed, his smile tight.
“I think Del is too.”
The Security Officer cast a professional gaze in the Cajun’s direction. “Yep.”
“But Del hates amber.”
Jeremy shrugged as he took a seat next to Daffy near a low table holding food and drinks. “He seems to have worked past that.”
Hours earlier, neither Ruth nor Jeremy had been in the main cabin. Sulu himself hadn’t noticed until Del had let the tune he was toying with fade away and suddenly said, “You know what I ain’t done in a long time?”
“No,” he’d replied sleepily. “What?”
“A Kamikaze shot.”
Suddenly the helmsman was very awake and very aware that he was alone in the main cabin with Del, a brown-haired Sevrnite girl, and the big bowl of sparkling pills that had been calling to him for hours. The ridiculously psychedelic, skin-tight purple shorts he was wearing got just a little tighter. “You do remember why we called them that, don’t you?” he asked lightly.
“’Cause you used t' do it all th' time?” Del joked back.
Sulu’s laugh was a little hollow. “That and because you can die playing that game.”
The Cajun shrugged. “That used t' not bother you.”
“Well, I have more to live for than I did when I was sixteen,” Sulu said, voicing a strength that he didn’t fully feel at that moment.
“You gettin’ old, son.” Del shook his head.
“And I plan to get older,” Sulu returned.
That might have been the end of it had Ravi, the brown-haired, doe-eyed Edenhead sitting with them not roused and asked, “What's a Kamikaze shot?”
“Well, you get a bowl – like this one…” Del pulled the sparkling caldron of temptation in front of him. “…where you got a bunch o’ small hits all mixed up like this, an' you grab a handful o’ pills an' wash 'em down wit' Black Scotch.”
“Not a handful,” Sulu corrected in deference to Ravi’s open-mouthed disbelief. “It was a game. You took a turn rolling a four-sided die to see how many you’d do…. And there were some other rules I’ve forgotten…” Because it’s hard to believe I was ever a part of something so stupid. It was harder, though, to believe how attractive any idea that might put amber inside his mouth sounded at that moment….
“Sounds fun,” Ravi concluded gamely.
“No,” Sulu contradicted firmly. “It sounds suicidal.”
A silent siren song from the sapphire in the bowl was apparently hitting Del’s ears too. “We could do a twosie,” he suggested.
“Twosies can still knock you on your ass,” Sulu made himself say.
“These jus' li'l bitty ol’ hits,” Del equivocated.
“It can be the combination, not just the amount that gets you.”
Del gave him a long look. “She ain’t gonna care, y'know.”
“Who? Ruth?”
The Cajun snorted. “Yeah, sure.”
Sulu knew who he meant. That was LiLing’s final, lasting curse. Because of her, the helmsman now knew that no matter what he did, no matter how much he hurt her, Jilla would always forgive him.
“Is a twosie taking a two pill combo?” Ravi asked eagerly. “I want to.”
“All right,” Del said, putting the boshzier aside. “Set the lady up.”
“Wait a minute.” If Sulu had been a little less drunk and if the amber he’d been given earlier had been calling a little less seductively for a companion, he might have stopped the whole thing. However at the moment, it seemed sufficiently responsible to sort through the pills removing a selected few.
“What you doin’?” Del broke in suspiciously.
Sulu paused. “Do you want me to leave in all the reds?”
“Ah, go ahead then,” the engineer agreed sourly. “But if I knowed we were gonna do the Sunday school version, I wouldn't’a said nothin’.”
“Okay,” the helmsman announced, swirling the pills around after he felt the selection was sufficiently edited. “Ready? Close your eyes and reach in. Just pick two.”
“Yes, mother,” Del replied mockingly, when the bowl was passed to him. “What you get?”
Sulu couldn't help but smile. “Supernova.” Different combinations of drugs had different nicknames. A supernova was a double shot of amber. "What about you?"
Del grimaced. "Green Hornet."
A green hornet was amber and an amphetamine from Sirus. Sulu was glad he was going to be manning the helm for the next few hours. For some reason, uppers always turned Del into a jerk. "What about her?"
Their Sevrnite companion still had her eyes closed, having swallowed the capsules without looking at them. As they watched, she tumbled over backwards.
"Black Hole," Del said, enviously giving the nickname for a double shot of sapphire.
"Hey," Sulu called, picking the girl up. "Can someone help?"
Diona appeared from one of the side cabins. "What happened?"
Del shrugged. "I t’ink she got a drug problem."
Unaware of the willful nature of their companions’ misbehavior, Jeremy Paget and Ruth Valley turned to other subjects while they sipped on juice.
“How are things going with the Zen lessons?” Paget asked nodding in Madvig’s direction.
“I dunno,” Daffy replied with a brittle smile. “Has she finished giving him a handjob yet?”
Ruth tilted her head as she watched the Sevrnite correct her pupil’s position yet again. “Funny how much it looks like that from this angle.”
“Yeah. So funny,” her friend agreed, unamused. “Ha, ha, ha.”
“I didn’t think groupies ever got jealous,” Paget observed.
“We don’t,” Gollub confirmed, clinking her glass to his. “Nice life, ain’t it?”
This was the point upon which Jeremy’s faith in Admiral Brezhnova’s plan was beginning to waver. The Admiral and whatever think tank was undoubtedly supporting her had put Daffy on the team on the premise of ‘Once a groupie, always a groupie.’ Reports of the off-again on-again nature of Gollub’s relationship with the Russian had convinced them that this was a casual relationship that either partner felt comfortable drifting in or out of. Lieutenant Gollub, they therefore assumed, could be counted on to stand aside when needed and could still be there to offer comfort, solace, and advice when her man required it.
Paget, who knew her better, was dubious. He knew Daffy’s relationships were rarely as superficial as she pretended they were. However, even he had expected that if she suffered, she’d suffer in silence as he’d seen her do before. Nothing prepared him for the non-stop high drama on the high seas that was the Daffy/Pavie show on tour. She obviously cared enough to fight with him. Jeremy was beginning to wonder if she cared so much she’d fight for him too.
“School must be out,” Paget said aloud as he watched the Russian rise to his feet and say something that sounded apologetic. “I don’t suppose he’ll be comin' over here.”
“Not if he wants to live,” Daffy replied, resolutely not looking in the navigator’s direction.
Paget got up, adjusting the green always-on-the-verge-of-falling-off pants he was wearing, then picked up a glass of fruit juice and carried it over to where the Russian was standing. “So how’s it goin'?”
“My back hurts and I'm hungry.”
For a second, Jeremy thought Chekov was going to brush past him and cross to the table of food. He saw the navigator pause, take a moment to evaluate what getting to the food would entail, and then decide that he wanted to live instead.
“Thank you,” he said, reluctantly accepting the fruit juice.
“I don’t bite, you know,” Paget informed the Russian.
“I know,” Chekov replied, although his eyes were searching for some place to escape to. “You merely ask a lot of questions.”
“I can see where you’d have that impression,” Paget conceded. He decided a change of approach was definitely in order. "When Sulu wrote to me about you, the first thing he said he liked about you was that you had a great sense of humor. Even though you were a pretty serious guy, you could still see the funny side of everything."
"That was kind of him to say."
Jeremy chose not to reveal that Sulu had also reported that the navigator had a cute ass. "And I figure...” he continued seamlessly, “that anyone who dates Daffy Gollub for any length of time has got to have a pretty well developed appreciation for the absurd."
Chekov had to smile at that one.
"So even though I don't know you, I know you're not actin' like yourself."
"Hmm," the navigator replied uncomfortably.
"Is it the girl?” Paget decided to cut to the chase. “You still care that much?"
"My feelings... are not part of this mission."
"I think they are,” Jeremy said. “I think they’re makin’ you hold back. As I said, I may not know you well, but I know holdin’ back when I see it."
Paget didn’t say that he knew that the lieutenant had delayed discarding his communicator on Kostas – he was still holding that one in reserve in case he needed to beat the Russian over the head with it later – but he let the possibility that he knew hang in the air between them.
Chekov had no reply.
"Look,” Jeremy said, switching back over to ‘nice cop’ mode again. “You're assuming the worst. We don't know anything about what we're going to find."
The navigator nodded without conviction.
"It may turn out that....” Paget suddenly stopped mid-pep speech.
The Russian blinked at him. "What?"
Jeremy sighed. "Not much point in tryin’ to get a Slav to keep an optimistic outlook, is there?"
Chekov shook his head. "None at all."
"You know, I'm startin’ to agree with Madvig,” Paget concluded, putting his hands on his hips. “You need to get all that negative energy under control."
"Hmmp." The navigator gave his tutor an unenthusiastic glance from over his shoulder.
"'Cause if the moment does come and you hold back..."
"I won't," Chekov said as an apology. He sighed, and handed Paget the empty juice glass before walking away. "I won't."
In the doorway behind them, Sulu blew out a long breath and tried to put a damper on the explosions inside his head. As if such a thing were possible. You couldn’t control amber. Amber controlled you. It wanted what it wanted and could not be denied.
He put on a calm face before entering the main cabin… like that’s going to do any good when entering a room full of telepaths and old friends. Jeremy was nearest to the door.
When Paget reached out to him, asking, “How you doin’, babe?” he’d meant only to give his friend a reassuring pat on the shoulder. The amber pushed him into Paget’s arms instead. He gave Jeremy a quick but rough kiss as though that was a standard greeting between them and said, “I’m great. Just great. I had a little too much, but I’m comin’ off it now.”
Jer’s smile was sad as he gently pushed him back. “No, you’re not.”
“Sorry. Sorry,” he apologized, trembling with the effort it took to deny the golden drug in his veins.
“It’s okay,” Paget said – as accepting as his little silver goddess might have been. Why did all the people he loved have to be so damnably understanding?
As soon Sulu tore himself away from Jeremy, the greedy amber inside him quickly locked onto a new target. He walked over to the hookah where Diona was now braiding Sakura’s hair – HIS Sakura’s hair, the amber told him. He pushed the interloper a little harder on the shoulder than he meant to as he suggested, “You should see if they want you on the bridge.”
“Sure,” the Sevrnite replied mildly, although he could see in her eyes that she clearly heard the amber chanting, Mine! Mine! Mine!
“Come on, babe.” Jer’s hand was on his shoulder. “Let’s get a little coffee in you.”
Instead of exiting to the bridge, Diona crossed to Lace.
Del watched their whispered conversation without the slightest desire to hear what they were saying. Inside his head, Noel DelMonde was also exploding. He didn’t take uppers because they made his brain work too fast. Made him feel too powerful. Told him that he could reach out and grab all those emotions he could sense. Grab them and bend them to his will. Make them feel anything he wanted them to. Make her feel what he wanted her to...
He shook his head. Jealousy. Jealousy. All the jealousy in the room swirled in his head, magnifying his own covetousness to monstrous proportions. Jealousy buzzing like the green hornets inside his head….
“Hey, T-Paul,” he said, amazed at how calm he sounded. “I knowed you come crawlin’ back to me eventually.”
The roommates knew each other well enough that Chekov didn’t have to say ‘Go to hell’ out loud in order to communicate it clearly as he reached around the Cajun to get to a glass of brandy.
“Hedgehog,” DelMonde taunted.
The two Sevrinites giggled at the exchange.
“What's that?” Diona asked.
“You not know what a hedgehog is?” Del said turning all the force of his drug-enhanced charm in the two girls’ direction. It seemed like fun to see how much he could make them want him.
They giggled again as Diona shook her head.
“Why, darlin’,” he said with a smile, “a hedgehog not not'ing but a miniature porcupine.”
“What's a porcupine?” the redhead asked, falling easily into his trap.
“A possum wit' an attitude,” he replied dryly.
“And what's a possum?” Lace chimed in, willingly playing the game.
“Better eatin' than a nutria.”
“And what's a nutria?”
“What you call a swamp rat when you plannin’ to sell the gumbo you made out of it to city folks.”
“But what's a swamp rat?”
“A Cajun poodle.”
“And what's a poodle?”
“A rat wit' a curly hairdo.”
“And what’s a rat?”
“That what a Louisiana cockroach use as a ridin' hoss.” He pronounced the name of his birthplace ‘loozee’yan.’
"Don't encourage him,” Chekov interrupted. "He can go on like this for hours."
Three unappreciative pairs of eyes turned on the navigator.
Diona shrugged. "I just wanted to know why he called you a... a..."
"Hedgehog?” Del supplied. “Darlin', that 'cause a hedgehog a li’l animal wit' big round brown eyes. When it in a good mood, it right cute - even I will admit, it can be right cute. But when it get scared or mad, it curls up into a ball wit' all its li’l spines stuck out so that nobody can touch it."
"Thank you for that astute evaluation of my character," Chekov said sarcastically.
"It not mine.” Del shrugged. “Hell, there ain't no such t'ing as a hedgehog in the bayou. I heard that one from one o' your ol' girlfriends."
"Let's not speak about my girlfriends."
"I can see where that be a pretty sore subject for you right 'bout now." The green hornets inside Del’s head focused on Chekov. It didn’t seem fair. There was the little Russian, fretting over the prospect of managing two girlfriends when ol’ Del didn’t even have one … Well, not the one he wanted to have anyway. The green hornets reminded the Cajun that Pavel Chekov was about the easiest target ever born when it came to having his emotions manipulated. They prompted Del to lean forward under the guise of reaching for the boshzier and whisper, "Hey, son, I get you laid if you want."
Chekov frowned forbiddingly. "Don't start that sort of talk."
"One verse an' half a chorus," Del promised confidently. "I could fix you right up."
The navigator was tantalized enough by the prospect to look in Daffy’s direction. He turned back to his old roommate with another resolute frown. "You won't though," he concluded. "You never do anything unselfishly..."
"Oh, don't I?" DelMonde began to strum a sweet melody on the boshzier.
When I fall in love,
It will be forever
Or I'll never fall in love.
In a restless world like this is,
Love is ended before it's begun
An' too many moonlight kisses
Seem to cool in the warmth of the sun.
Chekov was stunned. Being virtually tone deaf, he rarely paid much attention to music, but this song… It was as though DelMonde had somehow gained knowledge of something very private and unspoken between himself and Daphne, and then had distilled the complex sentiment down to simple words and melody… which he was now broadcasting for the whole room to hear.
When I give my heart,
It will be completely
Or I'll never give my heart.
An' the moment I can feel that
You feel that way, too,
Is when I fall in love wit' you.
This verse was even worse. Chekov’s cheeks were burning. He could feel Daphne’s eyes on him as Noel sang words that the navigator was not ready to say. The navigator knew it had to look to her as if DelMonde was singing them at his request.
And the moment I can feel that
You feel that way, too,
Is when I fall in love with you.
Chekov considered knocking his roommate’s teeth down his throat. "You are the devil," he informed him coldly.
“How that for gratitude?" DelMonde asked the girls beside him. "Hey, son, the Cajun giveth, but he can taketh away too, y'know."
The Russian reached for the brandy. "I doubt you could do much more to make things worse."
"Oh, really?" DelMonde struck a raucous chord.
Well, the Ukraine girls really knock me out
They leave the west behind
And Moscow girls make me sing and shout
That Georgia's always on my my my my my my my my my mind
Chekov ducked in time to avoid the hard piece of fruit Daphne Gollub lobbed at his head.
"I hate you," the navigator informed his roommate. "I hope you are fully aware of that."
DelMonde and the green hornets inside his head smiled. "As much as I wanna be."
Chekov abruptly pulled the glass of brandy he was drinking from his lips. "And you’ve put something in my drink too. Haven’t you?"
"Oh, jus' a li'l bitty bit o' sapphire."
"Why did you do that?"
Del shrugged. "To prove I could."
"You are the devil,” Chekov repeated with conviction.
"Yeah, but you gonna be able to meditate like hell now," DelMonde pointed out.
The Russian, ever the pragmatist, considered this for a moment. "That's true," he conceded, rising. “If you will excuse me, ladies? Noel, I will not forget this.”
“No,” the Cajun agreed. “I not t’ink you gonna.”
Return To Part Two
Go To Part Four
Music Credits:
Shambala – Three Dog Night
Tell It Like It Is – The Neville Brothers
When I Fall In Love – Nat King Cole
Back in the USSR – The Beatles