originally published as "Watermark"
Sulu sat numbly in his quarters. Spock had ordered him confined after McCoy released him from Sickbay. I would have preferred the brig, he thought desolately. There are too many memories here. Jilla's uniforms hung in the wardrobe in silent accusation, the scent of her perfume was everywhere; especially the bed, her pillow. Her shrine to Aema glowed with its eternal moonlight; her technical manuals, blueprints, drafting tools cluttered the desk.
Sulu hadn't moved any of it. He couldn't bring himself to the step that would admit she wasn't coming back. Her will was in their safe, but he hadn't looked at it, hadn't even taken it out. He didn't care to have her things given away. He glanced at the stand on the shelf above the bed. Her lyrette sat crookedly. He almost grinned, knowing how it would've annoyed her, and got up to straighten it. His fingers touched the strings, and they vibrated, producing a soft, sad sound. He ran his fingers over the smooth wood, the pearl-like bridge, across the metal strings. It produced dissonance, the tone of mourning. Carefully, he took it from its stand. He held it awkwardly, strummed it gently. He was no musician; learning to play an instrument of any kind had been one of the few things never to interest him. But he plucked at the strings of the lyrette, needing to hear it speak, even clumsily, for the sound was as soothing as it was painful. It brought her back. While the notes reverberated through the room, she was here, singing soft Terran folk songs, peace-filled Vulcan ballads... Vulcan. She played duets, love songs with the man who let her die.
With sudden fury and tears blurring his vision, he raised the instrument over his head, ready to smash it to a thousand pieces, for Jilla, for himself, for the darkness he so desperately wanted.
Ruth found herself outside Sulu's quarters. She was trembling, swallowing back bitter tears, and reached for the door. Then she stopped. For a moment, she held her breath in disbelief. That was the sound of a lyrette, and her mind said, Jilla! regardless of the immediate denial. She moved her hand from the chime she'd been about to ring, rushing through the door in a desperate lunge of hope.
Sulu stood, Jilla's lyrette in his upraised hands.
Ruth gasped, and he spun to her, blinking back pain, staring at her. Then he set the instrument down, deliberately removing his hands from it. He turned, his head down.
"She would never have forgiven me," he said with false, broken humor.
Ruth stared at his back. It was stiff, rigid. She walked softly to the bed, her fingers reaching out involuntarily, bringing forth a sweet, sad note of clarity and despair from the strings of the lyrette. Sulu began trembling, and sobbed, once, and she was suddenly in his arms, crushing and being crushed in an embrace of grief and desolation. "Ruth, why?" Sulu hissed.
She had no answer, and she stroked his cheek, her eyes helplessly searching his.
"I loved her," he said, and the light of it shone, even through the tears. He held her more tightly. "And you did, too, didn't you?"
Ruth nodded, her eyes closing, and she felt his lips gently brush her forehead.
"Ruth, we can keep her alive, through the music, through each other."
Tears welled in Ruth's eyes, and she nodded again, her smile a grimace of pain. "Yes, Sulu, yes we can."
He pulled away from her, grasping the lyrette. "Play for me. Play for her."
Awkwardly Ruth took the instrument, sitting on the bed, positioning it in her arms. She played, hesitant, then stronger, more sure. A lilting melody, yet full of sorrow, a waltz tempo that somehow seemed frantic, a desperation barely controlled. Her fingers raced over the strings, carrying her with the sounds, a difficult piece, one that Jilla had made seem so effortless. Tears blurred her vision, and she played on, faster, more furious, tones of strident bitterness joining the hollow grief. No, keep it beautiful and delicate, play it as she...as Jilla...
Her hands faltered, and she forced the anger away, slowing the tempo, filling it with the silent peace of desolation. The pain was keen, but still she played, losing herself in the soft sadness, letting the anguish come in gentle undertones of despair. She played a lament and a eulogy, one of sorrow and memory. She didn't know how long she played, but her fingers seemed to slow and stop of their own accord, the last minor chord floating away in the sighing echo of the lyrette's reverberance. She gazed up, into Sulu's eyes. He whispered her name. The lyrette was placed aside, her hands moving as if in a dream. His arms came around her, his lips touched hers, his fingers entangling in her hair. She let him draw her back, her hands clutching at him, her body responding to the warmth of his. There was no thought of Spock in her mind, and none of Jilla. Raw aching need bound her to Sulu; she held to him in grief and hopeless wanting. His emptiness touched hers, needing fulfillment, and like two lost, forsaken animals they clung to each other, not denying the anguish, simply seeking, for a time, to bury it.
Ruth didn't know how much time had passed when the door chime sounded. She blinked the cocoon of hollowness away and realized that she lay on Sulu's bed. Her uniform was up over her hips, her knees up, with Sulu's body between them. His lips were moving against her throat and her fingers clawed and pulled at his tunic. He lifted his head, his eyes unfocused, seemingly coming out of the same daze she had been in. He looked down at her, puzzled, then pain flashed across his face and he stood up. "I'm sorry," he stammered. "Ruth, I don't... I'm..."
She rose, pressing gentle fingers to his lips. "No, it's alright," she said softly. "I needed it as much as..." The chime came again, and she glanced away, adjusting her uniform as Sulu called, "Come," his voice deeply bitter.
"Sulu - " Chekov’s voice stopped abruptly, then he added, "Hello, Ruth."
"Hello, Pavel," Ruth replied, trying to sound warm and casual. Sulu sat down, his hand coming up to rub his temples.
"What is it, Pavel?" he sighed.
Ruth took a hesitant step. "I was just leaving..." she began. Sulu glanced up quickly, a pleading that was just as quickly controlled. Ruth swallowed and saw that Chekov had looked away, a quiet understanding on his face.
"Ah, Ruth, I think you'll want to hear this," he said.
"If it concerns the captain I'd rather not!" Ruth snapped, suddenly angry.
"Time for the hearing already?" Sulu asked heavily. Ruth damned the tears that came to her eyes.
"No," Chekov said. "I have much better news than that."
Sulu's eyes became acidly amused. "A firing squad?"
"Sulu, don't," Ruth broke in quietly.
"Sulu," Chekov said, and he crossed the room, clasping a hand to his friend's shoulder. "She's not dead."
Ruth gasped, a thrill of disbelief racing through her.
"And you're the Czar of all the Russias," Sulu countered wearily. "Come on, Pavel, no jokes.”
Ruth shook her head violently. "Sulu…" she murmured urgently.
"Would I joke about something this serious, my friend?" Chekov asked gently.
Sulu looked up, staring, swallowing, fear and hope springing to desperate eyes. "You're kidding," he whispered, not daring to believe it. But Chekov's eyes were dancing, and he was smiling his best puppy dog grin.
"Ramon found her," he said. "Indiian life form readings. I don't think there are many Indiians on Rundella."
Ruth nearly shrieked, bursting into tears and laughter of incredulous joy. Sulu was on his feet, lifting her into a whirling embrace of fierce, exultant celebration. He kissed her with a passion that nearly took her breath away. Then he grabbed Chekov, pulling the Russian into a bear hug, kissing him as well, his face shining with a miracle of new-found life and vitality. "Where is she?" he demanded.
Chekov smiled, recovering from shock of the embrace, barely keeping back his own delight. "Ramon is informing the Captain."
"Informing the...!" Sulu shouted. "Pavel, where is she!"
"Sulu, the Captain has to order her beam-up, or a party, she's been declared officially..."
Sulu was already past him, racing out the door, past a very startled Security guard. Ruth grabbed Chekov, giving the surprised Russian a deep kiss before rushing after Sulu.
"Captain Spock."
Spock looked up from his paperwork. Lieutenant Ramon Ordona stood stiffly in front of his desk. "Yes, Lieutenant?" he enquired.
"Scanners show the presence of an Indiian life form in sector G2 of Rundella, sir.”
"Life form, Lieutenant?"
"Yes, sir. Checked and double-checked. "
One eyebrow rose. "Indeed. Order immediate rescue operations."
"Yes, sir, thank you, sir."
A breathless Sulu bolted in from the corridor.
"Captain, let me..."
"Mr. Sulu," Spock interrupted coldly, "You were confined to your quarters."
Sulu's face hardened. "Yes, sir, but I..."
Ruth rushed in, the Security Officer right behind her and said excitedly, at the same time Sulu did:
"Request permission to head a rescue party for Lieutenant Majiir, sir."
Spock regarded Ruth sternly, the Security man even more sternly, then his gaze went back to Sulu. "Denied, Commander, Lieutenant Commander," he added to Ruth. "Return to your quarters, Mr. Sulu, or I will be forced to find you more secure accommodations.”
Ordona looked uneasy, and Sulu stared down at Spock. "I resigned, remember?" he said grimly.
Spock returned his stare calmly. "Then it is illogical for you to expect to be assigned to any mission, rescue or otherwise,” he retorted. “In any case, I do not acknowledge that resignation. Your official statements have yet to be processed by Starfleet Headquarters. Until I receive confirmation, you remain under my command."
"Captain," Ruth began hesitantly.
"It's Jilla," Sulu said between clenched teeth, "my wife!"
"I am aware of that, Mr. Sulu."
Ruth felt her face flushing with the anger that exploded from Sulu.
"Damn it, Spock, I'm not about to jump ship, I just want..."
"I believe you heard my order, Commander."
Without another word, Sulu pivoted, shrugging off the Security Ensign who tried to take his arm, and left the office.
"Captain, what about..." Ruth said stiffly.
"I gave you your answer, Miss Valley," Spock replied. He turned to Ordona. "Carry on, Lieutenant."
Ordona nodded. "Yes, sir."
When he had gone, Ruth remained staring down at Spock. At length, he looked up. "Was there something else, Lieutenant Commander?"
"Why?" was all she could manage.
"Why what, Miss Valley?" he asked, frowning.
"Sulu's under arrest, alright; why can't I go?"
Their eyes met, and Spock said simply, "You are needed aboard."
"For what? I'm off duty."
"The ion storm did some damage to..."
"I'm off duty, Spock."
"Then consider yourself on duty, Miss Valley."
"Spock, it's Jilla!" Ruth pleaded.
"I have already stated my awareness of that fact."
"I want to..." Ruth began stubbornly.
"My orders are not subject to debate, Lieutenant Commander."
Ruth fought the furious tears. "No, sir," she said thickly. "Of course not, sir." She turned, then whirled angrily back. "But my living arrangements are!"
She bolted from the office, choking on the sobs.
Jilla ran. A crowd of people were chasing her with pitchforks and clubs and torches. It had happened more times since her escape from the strange group of Rundellans who had saved her life than she cared to remember. Demon. Devil. Vampire. What, in Aema's name, was a vampire?
She stumbled, nearly fell. She was exhausted, starving. She remembered the hard face of the priest who descended on her, placed a wooden stake between her breasts, and she found the strength to keep running. The guard had suddenly knocked the priest over the head, went on his knees, said, "Hail Majiir. Hail to Your Dark Captain."
She'd said, automatically, incredulously, "Spock?"
"If that be His true name."
The man had led her out a secret doorway in the cell. They walked through miles of labyrinthine tunnels, descending deeper underground, coming, at last, to an arena, a large hall. There were twelve other people, villagers, garbed in dark robes, standing inside a painted circle.
"I bring Her Highness Majiir!" the man announced.
"Welcome, Pale Mistress," one of the women said.
She'd insisted she wasn't a demon, but they clothed her in black, bowed and knelt to her. At least they weren't trying to kill her. Until they brought her what they expected her to eat: a young goat, freshly killed, its blood still warm. She'd refused, fighting nausea. They nodded, knowingly; brought another, alive. She shook her head. One of them, a young man, bared his throat, said, "Feed, Mistress." A shudder still went through her at the thought.
"Fools!" the guard cried. "She wishes to hunt Her own game!"
Seeing escape possibilities, she'd nodded. They'd led her, well after sunset, to the surface. She told them she'd be back.
"Before dawn!" the young man warned.
She'd followed basic Starfleet Survival Training; keep hidden during the day, keep to yourself, foray for food at night. She was careful, but it seemed almost as though she were being hunted. No matter how secluded she thought a place was, someone would see her, begin screaming 'vampire!’ and the chase would begin again.
It had been two days. She no longer hoped to be found by anyone from the Enterprise. Captain Spock would have done the logical thing and left her. She was, after all, only one officer, and he had never intended she live through the mission. She got some small, bitter satisfaction from the realization that he had a great deal of explaining to do to the Federation Council. Klingons, up to their usual tactics; but all the Federation knew was Captain Spock had broken the Prime Directive in the grandest tradition of James T.... She felt a tight pain clutch at her heart. No, do not think of him. It only makes everything worse. Her thoughts suddenly choked her. Everything. I will never see Sulu again, and soon, soon, death will take me -- Aema, I am afraid to face You! If I had let Spock — but how could I? Betray Sulu as I betrayed Selar?
You would have lived, fool! You can only be branded telmnori once!
I did not know, I did not think he would —
Let you die, face Aema?
No, I did not, could not, Vulcans revere life!
And Vulcans would rather die than face dishonor. Is it not logical that he would choose to rid himself of you rather than face the possibility that someone would learn of his attempts?
Jilla sobbed, her face contorting in pain. Sulu, I am sorry. I could not give in - though you would have understood, I could not, not even to live... please understand. Please forgive me. You are an officer, a good one, a good man, remember that, beloved. I could not live without you, but you are not Indiian. Don't do anything foolish. Remember me, I love you, I release you...
She became aware that tears were streaking down her cheeks and she felt suddenly tired, too tired to keep running. Her foot caught a rock, and she sprawled to the ground. The Imperial child rolled, ready to die fighting. Frustration and fear and pain made her snarl as she turned to face her attackers.
Then, a loud, familiar voice rang out above the din of the crowd.
"Behold! I am the Archangel Gabriel!"
With a gasp, the Rundellans dropped to their knees.
Grinning wryly, Dr. McCoy stepped over to Jilla, flipping open his communicator. "We've got her, Mr. Kyle. Energize." The security team surrounded her, and he turned to the crowd. "Peace, my children."
Jilla began sobbing, the hysteria now of relief. She could have hugged McCoy, even kissed him in her release. "Archangel Gabriel?" she asked as the transporter beam took hold.
"One of my fondest wishes, Jilla. Has been for years," McCoy explained as he ran the medical scanner over her. "Bad exhaustion in the musculature, but you're alright otherwise. I do want to keep you under observation."
"Where is Sulu?" she asked.
"Hell!"
"I beg your pardon?"
McCoy scowled. "The boy's confined to quarters, Jilla."
"He did something foolish," Jilla said ruefully.
"When the life form reading went out..." McCoy began.
"Didn't the sensors show the presence of verilium in the composition of the planet's surface?" Jilla interrupted.
"I don't know about that," McCoy replied, "and anyway, people were much too upset to notice. Anyway," he went on, "the magistrate planetside told Sulu you were dead, and he snapped. There's been so much pressure on him... Spock had ordered a rescue attempt for Jade, forbade Sulu to go on his own to try to save you."
"A logical decision," Jilla said coldly.
"Of course," McCoy agreed tightly. "When Sulu heard... He resigned on the spot, attacked Spock, would've killed him if I hadn't stunned him."
"Thank you, Doctor," Jilla said quietly.
"I couldn't see him throwin’ his life away. Never have believed in suicide." He sighed. "So he's up on official charges, assaulting a commanding officer."
"I thought you said he resigned."
McCoy snorted. "The Captain doesn't recognize that. Wasn't official."
"Doctor, does Sulu know I'm..."
"I'm sure he does, and I guess I can keep as close an eye on you in your quarters as here, with Dr. Han right next door." He paused, smiling. "If you promise to stay in bed."
Jilla started to blush and Spock’s voice said, "Medical observation is done in sickbay, Doctor."
Both McCoy and Jilla turned toward the door.
"It's done where I think's best, Captain," McCoy replied coldly.
Spock ignored him. "I am pleased that you are alive, Mrs. Majiir; you are a valuable officer, one whom I would have found difficult to replace. You are also confined to Sickbay, regardless of what Dr. McCoy might say."
Jilla didn't look at him. "Sir, I would like to inform Commander Sulu that..."
"He is aware of your physical well-being. "
"Captain..."
"He is under confinement in his quarters, pending a hearing on charges of assault."
"Spock, you could let them have five minutes," McCoy interrupted gruffly.
"That will be all from you, Doctor," Spock said. "Lieutenant, you have always followed orders. I trust you will continue to do so." He turned and left sickbay, leaving two pairs of hostile eyes following him.
"Not always," Jilla murmured and McCoy pretended not to hear. He walked away from her, feeling awkward and uncomfortable. He wanted to tell her that he understood, wanted to give some sort of comfort, but… The words stuck in his throat and he told himself that she wouldn't like physical gestures. Still, there had to be something.
He glanced back at her. She had curled up on the Sickbay bed and looked very child-like, lost and lonesome. She needed someone who knew how to comfort her. Ruth. No, even better. Sulu. Confinement to quarters is waived for necessary medical exams. Sulu has acted peculiarly, and I’ve only done a routine physical check. Shame on me. Mental tests really need to be run. And I’ll get Jade to agree. Not even Spock can deny it then.
He murmured a silent, 'wait right there, child,' to Jilla, then went to locate Dr. Han.
Noel DelMonde was heading for his own quarters, and the first sleep he'd had in nearly two days, when he was suddenly knocked off his feet by a headlong rush. He grabbed the offending party, then realized who it was; a crying, badly shaking Ruth Valley. "Ruth?" he questioned concernedly. To his surprise, she collapsed beside him, flinging her arms around him, sobbing his name. He held her, letting her cry, the raw emotion lashing against his mind with blinding intensity. He tried desperately not to understand, not to hear the half-articulated thoughts screaming from Ruth’s anguished empathy to his. He was almost past the threshold of his control when she shuddered, as if just realizing who it was holding her. She drew a deep breath, deliberately calming herself he knew. He tilted her face up to his. "I know it hard, babe," he murmured keeping a tight rein on his own trembling, and she shook her head fiercely.
"No, you don't understand!" she said.
He clenched his teeth. You say that to another empath, cher? But he knew it would do no good to argue the point. "Tell me, then."
She looked away from him. "Del, I..." She swallowed. I know you know, but I can’t, please, you know why, please understand.
I do, babe. You know I do. But it hard on me, too.
I’m sorry!
Forgiven. You couldn’t been any kinder. He filled his thoughts with the gentle truce they had come to over a year before, along with the fact that neither of them would ever acknowledge it to anyone else. Her mental emanations became warm and sad, soothing the biting pain within them both. He held her head to his chest, letting her power ease him.
“So tell me,” he said aloud.
"We've found Jilla, she's alive…”
He jerked her to arm’s length. “Mon dieu, that cause for…!” he began incredulously.
“No, it’s just that…” Ruth shook her head. “Sulu’s confined, so Spock wouldn’t let him be part of the rescue party, but I’m not even on duty and I wanted to…
"And th' Captain say no," Del finished. Ruth frowned, but there was no denying the truth. “You really expect different, babe?”
“I don’t know,” Ruth replied tightly. With a weary mental sigh, Del relented. This dangerous ground anyway, he told himself resignedly.
He forced a smile. "The important t’ing is li'l Jilla, non? She really all right?"
Ruth smiled back, her mind gratefully acknowledging his intent. "She’s alive. All right will have to wait for the medical exam. She’s been on a hostile planet for nearly three days."
"And Sulu, he know?"
Ruth nodded.
"Merci Dieu,” Del murmured.
"Omein," Ruth agreed, and Del grinned again.
"You wanna help me tell Scotty? I jus’ got him to bed but I bet he sober up at this.”
Tears clouded Ruth's vision again, but they were happy ones. "I'd love to!" she replied.
Del helped her to her feet, and they headed back toward Scotty's quarters. He casually slipped an arm around her waist. She abruptly pulled away. He sighed, shrugged, and swallowed the bitterness.
"Dr. Han."
Jade looked up from her pipe at McCoy's voice. "What is it, Leonard?" she asked.
"I think Mr. Sulu's actions planetside require psychiatric evaluation, don't you?"
Jade stared incredulously. "The man's wife was killed; I think that's explanation enough!"
"Well, don't be too sure about that, Doctor," McCoy replied, grinning.
This man, Jade thought, has gone completely mad. Finally cracked, have you, Leonard? When she said nothing, McCoy stopped his delighted bouncing.
"Jade," he said, "Mrs. Majiir's alive and in Sickbay."
"What!" Jade burst out, getting to her feet.
"And Captain Bastard won't let her out, or Sulu out of confinement. So, I think he could use some tests. In Sickbay."
Jade was smiling, and she hugged a suddenly flushing McCoy fiercely. "I told you he wouldn't!" she cried.
"He had nothing to do with it," McCoy said gruffly.
"Oh alright, Leonard; how is she?"
"She needs her husband, that's how she is."
Jade was quiet for a moment, then nodded, looking solemnly at McCoy. "You're right, Doctor," she said. "Psychiatric evaluation is necessary."
"Thanks, Jade," McCoy replied.
"You're welcome, Leonard."
Spock stepped onto the Bridge as Uhura turned from Communications. "Klingon ship approaching, sir, I was just about to ..." she began.
"Very good, Miss Uhura," Spock interrupted. "When they are in range, open hailing frequencies."
"Yes, sir," Uhura replied.
Spock took the con from Chekov, who bumped Monique from Navigation. He had interrogated the Klingon prisoners, knew that their orders from their government were to avoid Organian interference at all costs. The Klingon ship would bargain, and he was prepared to press every advantage. Not simply to leave Rundella to evolution, but to present to Organia a deposition relinquishing all claim to the system, with an explanation of the Federation's apparent interference. If not — the prisoners were proof of his story, and the Organians would interpret Klingon's actions as hostile, and so dismantle their fleet.
He carefully avoided considering the problem of Mr. Sulu.
"Hailing frequencies open, Captain," Uhura reported.
"This is Captain Spock of the U.S.S Enterprise. We hold four Klingon officers prisoner; we will surrender them on the following terms. No discussion of these terms will be permitted; you have but two choices. Accept them, or prepare for Organia's retaliation."
As he outlined the terms, Uhura’s gaze met Chekov's, the respect bitter. It had all been a perfect bluff. What hurt was that the sacrifice of one officer would not have been an exorbitant price to pay, and they both knew it.
"Psychological tests?" Sulu repeated. "You gonna base my court martial defense on insanity?"
McCoy shook his head. All of Sulu's death-wishing had vanished, and the boy was, for the first time, thinking of defense. And scared. Spock had him, he knew it, but now didn't want it.
"Son, all I'm tryin' to do is get you to Sickbay where a badly exhausted Indiian needs some affection," he said gruffly. That lit Sulu's face up.
"Thanks, Doc," he said, and raced out of his quarters.
"At least somebody's thankin’ me for something I'm proud of for a change," McCoy mumbled, and followed Sulu.
When he reached Sickbay, Nurse Chapel was smiling indulgently, and Jade had her arms folded in satisfaction. Sulu and Jilla clung to each other, bodies and mouths glued together. McCoy felt a blush creeping up on him, and turned away.
"Well, don't stand there starin’ at 'em," he admonished Chapel and Han.
Jade grinned. "Just because you're uptight about sex, Leonard..."
McCoy snorted and hid the scowl.
"I thought you were dead," Sulu murmured.
"I know," Jilla replied.
"I love you."
"And I you."
"Oh shit!"
"You are in something of a predicament."
"I've screwed myself royally." A pause. "But I didn't want to go on without you. "
"It was foolish."
"I didn't care." Bitter laughter. "Too bad I do now."
Sudden panic. "Sulu, you cannot leave me -- not on this ship, alone, with..."
"Maybe he knew you were alive. Maybe he wanted me out of the way."
"No.... Sulu, no!"
Jade was frowning, on the verge of joining what should have been a private conversation that McCoy didn't want to understand. He was more than grateful when the door to Sickbay opened.
Scotty staggered in, Ruth on one side, DelMonde on the other. His eyes were still red, his face still puffy and lined, but the haggard pain was gone, and the voice that cried, "Jilla, lass!" was strong and clear.
Jilla turned, her face showing her shock at Scotty's condition, quickly turning to sorrow and gentle disappointment. "Mr. Scott," she said with rueful chagrin and held out her arms. The embrace was a bear hug, Scott almost crushing Jilla's small frame, and Ruth and DelMonde smiled at each other. Sulu was looking more and more worried, and Scotty’s bear hug was replaced by Ruth's.
"What happened?" she wanted to know.
"Time enough for questions when she's rested," McCoy interrupted, "and I wouldn't want the Captain to find all of you lounging in my Sickbay."
"Take care of her, ye hear, McCoy," Scott ordered.
"I will, Scotty."
"You need sleep anyway," DelMonde told his chief.
"Aye, that I do. Thank ye, Noel."
Del smiled. "Mais alohrs, Scotty." They turned toward the door and it opened.
Spock had considered carefully what he would say, how he would word his paradox. He knew it was not logical, but wanted it to sound so. He would have to defend it to no one, of course, but he would prefer not to endure the looks of puzzlement that would inevitably come. He had told Uhura to contact him when the Klingons were ready to provide the message to Organia, then gone to Sulu's quarters.
He was annoyed but not surprised to find them empty. It hardly mattered, though. The young man's confinement would soon be over. He headed for Sickbay.
The door opened when he arrived to reveal Sulu, as he expected, and Dr. Han and McCoy were no surprise; but Ruth stood there, as did DelMonde and Scott. All those who cared for Jilla. If only he could openly join this elite group... He pushed sentiment away, and stepped into Sickbay.
"Mr. Sulu," he began sternly.
Ruth closed her eyes. Why did he have to come and spoil it? She saw Sulu hardening, Scotty’s anger, McCoy's resentment, and didn't want to. Del suddenly felt closer and she both wanted and didn't want that.
"You were confined. You have ignored that order. Twice."
"He's here for psychological tests, Captain," McCoy replied tersely. "Dr. Han and I both thought it necessary."
Spock's eyes went to Jade, who nodded, and as his glance swept over Jilla, Ruth felt a flash of panicked fear and shame and anguish. From Jilla, too strong for her shielding, too strong to ignore. She pushed it away.
"I was not asked to authorize such tests," Spock returned.
"I'm the medical authority on this ship, Captain," McCoy said. "I don't need your permission to perform my duties as a doctor."
"You do need it to override my direct orders, Doctor."
"So put me in the brig," Sulu broke in. Ruth swallowed, realizing suddenly that there was no way for Sulu to get out of the situation he was in. Spock could legally ruin him. Military prison, penal colony, rehab colony. While Jilla tried to go on without him. At the thought of Jilla, she became aware of the emotions again, hurting, frightened, ashamed, growing stronger, more panicked. Why, she wondered uneasily. Del gently touched her with the same question; Why?
"I will speak to you momentarily, Mr. Sulu," Spock said. He turned to Jilla and the feelings intensified, spilling in waves of desperation. Spock? Ruth thought. It was Spock! But what, surely not just the mission. It was bad for her, but she didn't feel this way before he came in and the mission's the same. Why?
"You must realize the gravity of the situation, Mrs. Majiir," Spock went on. "It is not my wish to cause you more anxiety after your ordeal planetside; however, your Mr. Sulu's actions must be dealt with. As a Vulcan, you can surely see this."
"Logic," McCoy mumbled, and Ruth was assailed by rivers, oceans of terror-filled emotions. They exploded into words in her mind. He was right, you want him out of your way, you will force me, take what you see as yours. I am Vulcan, you say, to remind me; 'your Mr. Sulu’ you say, you will trade his life for my submission; monster, monster!
My god, my god! Ruth screamed silently. It's the truth, everything Sulu said, Spock did try to take Jilla, he did try to rape her and make her believe she wanted it, no, my god, no, how could he, how could he! She felt Del shudder beside her, knew he felt it too and his eyes held the same comprehension that screamed into her mind: Spock, monster!
Jilla didn't answer. She only went white, and bent her head.
"She sees it, Captain," Jade said. Spock nodded, turning to Sulu.
"Commander, there will be no hearing," he said, and Ruth snapped her eyes to him. "As you believed yourself out of my command at the time of the attack, a military trial cannot be convened." There was stunned silence and Spock continued, "As for resignation, yours was not presented in an official manner, and I will accept none from you in any case. This is your official reprimand. I trust you will treat it as such. My order for confinement is hereby rescinded."
He left the room without another word and the emotions of love and hatred mingled in Ruth's mind and only grew worse when Jade said, softly;
"Catch 22, in perfect Vulcan logic."
"Beaming completed, sir," Uhura reported. Sulu glanced back at her, trying not to see Spock. The Klingons, of course, agreed to everything, and the Federation now had, by Organian surety, clear claim to Rundella. It was only then that Spock returned the four Klingons to their ship.
The First Officer sighed. Mission completed. Outpost restaffed, resupplied. Everyone's career and life intact. And the captain's Human lust still secret. After all, he knew that to keep the lie was the only reason Spock had pulled what Jade called Catch 22. It had been discussed in Sickbay; the initial reaction was surprise and glimmers of hope. Did Spock care? He had to, or why had he let his First Officer out of an impossible situation? There was no other reason. Scotty, McCoy, Jade went away uncertain, but rejoicing in this sign that maybe Captain Bastard was getting better. But Spock did have another reason, and Sulu could see in Jilla’s eyes that she knew it. Spock couldn't go through with a trial because it would free Sulu to speak, to defend his actions. And he'd tell all of Fleet how their perfect Vulcan Captain had terrorized Jilla, how he told her she would submit to his lust, then when she refused, how he threatened her, telling her not to come near him or he'd take what he wanted. Sulu would tell Fleet how Spock had chosen the landing party in order to get Jilla killed, and why. And Spock didn't want that. To have that exposed would destroy him. So he compromised. Sulu knew that's what it was, and Jilla was numb with terror, waiting for Spock to demand payment for his lenience. And life, such as it is, Sulu thought acidly, goes on.
"Break orbit, Mr. Sulu, course eleven mark two, warp factor two," Spock said.
"Aye, sir," the helmsman acknowledged, and the First Officer began to coordinate the itinerary for the next mission, logically, carefully, with little thought for anything other than the duties which never seemed to end.
EPILOGUE
Four pillars of shimmer appeared in the transporter room of the Klingon ship. Four Klingon officers cowered before their commander.
"You are responsible, you will bear the blame!" he said. "Fools, to fall into such a trap! Your heads will decorate the walls of my cabin!" He turned to the security men. "Take them."
"Yes, Fleet Commander," the guard snapped, and saluted.
Dark, angry eyes stared at the screen and the vanishing blur of Rundella. The net had missed yet again. No matter. There will be other opportunities. We will meet, Vulcan, and when we do, you will tell me what I need to know.
And with the thought, Kor smiled.
To go to the next story in the "Shadow Captain" Series, click here