Three weeks later, Jilla still hadn’t found work. Sulu had discovered that tips weren’t very generous, but his pay covered the food bills. Spock and Ruth’s first pay vouchers had gone into upgrades for the computer system. The credit from Sulu and Ruth’s families had bought civilian clothing, the seeds and tools for the garden, and paid the first months’ utility and transport bills. They began a savings account, with a plan for modest investment strategies when enough credit had accumulated to make it feasible. Jilla kept the household budget, and with care, they would be able to save 300 credits a month toward the supplies they would need.
Then, Jilla began to feel ill.
It was just after dinner. Spock and Ruth had gone to the computer, Sulu heading for a relaxing bath. Jilla was clearing the table when a sharp pain doubled her over. Her gasp brought Ruth, Sulu and Spock back to the kitchen.
“Hon, are you all right?” Sulu asked, going immediately to her side, supporting her.
“Yes," she managed, “it is nothing, a temporary…” She stopped, grimacing.
“Here, let me have her,” Ruth said.
“No, Ruth, I am…” Jilla protested.
“You’re Vulcan and you’re showing pain,” Ruth returned, gently taking her from Sulu. “That means you’re half-way to dead.”
“You are more than pale, rilain,” Spock put in.
“Is it your abdomen again?” Sulu asked as Ruth helped Jilla to the living area couch.
“Again?” Ruth demanded.
“She’s been having pain for a week or so,” Sulu replied. “She didn’t want me to tell you.”
“And why not?” Ruth wanted to know.
“She didn’t want to worry anyone.” Ruth glared and Sulu shrugged lamely.
“There is nothing wrong with…” Jilla tried again.
“The hell there’s not,” Ruth muttered. “Now shut up and let me concentrate.”
The huge purple eyes closed as Ruth’s fingers hovered over Jilla’s stomach. Then they flew open again as Ruth inhaled sharply. She frowned at Jilla, then set her features and laid her hands on the Indiian’s torso. Within seconds, she had grimaced and relaxed, and the lines of pain were gone from Jilla’s face.
“Well, I was wrong,” Ruth stated as she straightened, then sat on the couch next to Jilla. “There isn’t anything wrong.” She paused, then glanced up at Sulu. “She’s pregnant.”
“What?” Sulu exclaimed, echoed by Jilla’s soft surprise.
“Yep,” Ruth returned. “About three weeks, from the feel of the embryo.” She grinned. “And it’s a girl.”
“How did…?” Sulu sputtered.
“Oh, come on, Roy, I thought you knew,” Ruth teased.
“But… she’s… and I’m… and…”
Spock was the one who first realized the answer. “We are no longer on board a military vessel,” he interjected. “We no longer have access to certain automatic preventative health care. As to the other concern, apparently Terran and Indiian biologies are similar enough to allow for natural conception.”
“Congratulations, Dad,” Ruth finished.
Sulu and Jilla stared at one another for a long moment. Then Sulu started to smile. Jilla lowered her eyes, her face beginning to glow softly. Then she was in his arms, being smothered in an exuberate, joyous embrace as Sulu murmured, “A baby, a daughter, Jilla, a baby!”
“She’s gong to require either placental injections - ” Ruth rejoined when they broke the embrace, “ - or me,” she added with a smile. “Your biologies may be similar enough to allow for natural conception, but her body is treating the embryo like a massive infection. That’s the cause of the pain. I stabilized her, and that should hold for a week or so, but…” she shrugged. “As long as I stay healthy, that shouldn’t be a problem.”
“And what if you get pregnant, Spike?” Sulu questioned, his eyes twinkling. “You’re not on automatic birth control anymore either.”
Ruth grinned. “I got my own. I won’t get pregnant until and unless I want to.”
“With my agreement, I assume, my wife,” Spock said dryly.
“We’ll see,” Ruth replied with a wink at Sulu.
They quickly settled into a routine. Jilla and Ruth woke first; Jilla to make breakfast, Ruth to cure Jilla’s morning sickness. After breakfast, Ruth, Spock and Sulu went to work. Jilla cleaned, sent out employment inquiries, and tended the garden. Sulu was home for lunch and to spend with his child the emotional time necessary for a growing sensitive. He then went back to try and catch a few more fares while Jilla rested. In the late afternoon, she rose to fix dinner, with Sulu’s help if the fares hadn’t been forthcoming. Evening, and Ruth and Spock returned home. After dinner was for research, conversation, music, research, physical exercise, meditation, research, reading, private time - and always more research.
It was made more difficult by the fact that many of the most valuable sources of information were secured against them under Federation Security.
Ruth cursed inventively. Spock became more grimly determined. Sulu brought up racing at every weekly house meeting and was pointedly silent as Ruth fumed over the restrictions. Jilla simply looked increasingly worried.
“Okay, it’s been six weeks,” Sulu began the meeting. “We have a grand total of 500 credits in savings. At this rate, we’ll have just over 4000 at the end of the year, and we’re going to have to use some of that for the baby. She’ll be ready for Alterra by the time we can afford to go after Jim - assuming we can even find him. Where’s an alternative to racing?”
Ruth scowled. Spock met Sulu’s gaze with something close to resignation. Jilla placed her hands on her abdomen and spoke without looking up.
“You would endanger her?”
“Honey,” Sulu replied softly, “it’s that, or abandon Jim. And if we do that, what has all this been for?”
“How can you…?” Jilla began.
“I know what I’m doing. I wouldn’t take the kind of reckless chances I used to. It’s no more dangerous that the kind of piloting I do all day…”
“Ha!” Ruth snapped.
“How many fatal traffic accidents are there in a week, Ruth?” Sulu shot back. “How many racers die in a race?”
“Without Cal?” Ruth returned nastily. Jilla gasped.
“Cheap shot, Spike,” Sulu growled.
“Better cheap than dead, Roy.”
“Enough.” As usual, Spock’s voice stopped the rejoinder Sulu was about to make. “If we are to have any chance to aid Jim, we must be honest in our assessments.” He turned to Jilla. “Yes, it is a dangerous course, but Sulu is correct. The fatality rate for normal traffic is higher. He would not be endangering himself unduly. He was, at last report, still the best, most renowned racer.”
“That was six years ago, Spock,” Ruth put in. “He hasn’t…”
“Naois,” Sulu interrupted. With a scowl, Ruth fell silent.
“He won quite a handsome sum, I believe,” Spock continued, “and that on one race.”
“A madman’s run,” Ruth muttered, but Sulu’s face lit up.
“Damn, how could I have forgotten!” he said excitedly. “Gage told me he gave most of it to Loki to invest!”
Ruth sat up abruptly. “Monolem!”
Sulu was grinning. “Yeah, Monolem. It was two hundred and fifty thousand…”
“…two years ago!” Ruth leapt up, throwing her arms around him. “Roy, there’s our ship!”
“Not so fast, Spike. I don’t know how much is available, or how much penalty there’ll be for withdrawing it from whatever portfolio Loki set up.”
“Obviously, you must contact Miss Monolem immediately,” Spock put in. Sulu smiled at him.
“I’ll do that, Spock.” He went to the communications port as Ruth hugged Jilla happily.
“No racing, Jilla,” she enthused. “He’ll be safe!”
“Kam, you have to be out of your mind,” Loki Monolem insisted from the viewscreen.
Sulu was biting his tongue. It had taken more than a week and more effort than he would’ve imagined to simply track down Loki’s whereabouts. Added to that was the blocks he ran into actually trying to connect with her. Starfleet had restricted communication with all the Heads of State of Federation Member planets and systems, and, as the niece of the CEO of the Haven Trading Empire, Loki Monolem fell under that restriction. He’d finally had to go through the Clave and the current Heir Apparent. Once he actually got Eagle to believe who he was, he’d been transferred to the HTE Leather and Lane Gage, through Gage’s security chief, Tomor Rand to Loki’s security, a no-nonsense man named Rem Citrol, and through Citrol to Loki’s secretary. When he got her to believe who he was, he had to tell he what the call was about. And after all that, Loki’s first words were that he was out of his mind. No ‘hello,’ no ‘it’s been a long time,’ not even a ‘what did you do to the Fed brass, Kam?’
“No, I’m not,” he answered tersely. “I need credit and I need it right away. And by the way, hello to you, too.”
Loki flushed, tossing her short, artistically unevenly cut black hair away from her forehead. “I was talking about your leaving Fleet,” she returned. “Do you have any idea what the line is on the reasons?”
“No, and I’m not interested. I can’t go into why I left, I’m under security restrictions.”
“Is that why you need some fast credit?” Loki wanted to know.
“I can’t discuss it.”
“Well, shit.” Loki frowned. “It’s gonna be hard to convince Uncle Omm to let loose some of the funds without a damn good reason.”
“You invested in…?”
“My family. What better guarantee of a profitable return?”
Sulu sighed, his hand coming up to rub his face.
“Hey, Willow,” Ruth broke in, stepping in front of the com screen. Loki smiled.
“Hey yourself, Spike. If Kam’s in such dire straights, can’t you squeeze some credit out of that rich husband of yours?”
“Rich husband’s daddy controls it all, and he’s none too happy with his son’s abrupt departure from the Fed good guys,” Ruth replied cavalierly.
“I though he never wanted sonny-boy in big bad militaristic Starfleet.”
“You’re expecting consistency, logic, reason?”
“Oh, right. I forgot who I was talking about.” Loki took a deep breath. “So what’s up? You’ve gotta give me something to take to Uncle Omm.”
"My wanting my own damn credit isn't good enough?" Sulu rejoined the conversation, his voice caustic.
"Kam, if it were up to me…." Loki let the sentence drop.
"Is gettin' Silver Streak knocked up worth a few hundred thousand?" Ruth broke in.
"Silver Streak?" Sulu asked, on top of Jilla's, "Knocked up?"
"Really?" Loki's face lit up with delight. "Hey, congratulations, your Majesty!"
"Yeah, so where's my credit?"
Loki frowned. "Damn, you are the most jacketed… Let me talk to Uncle Omm. Can I call you back?"
"Not likely. We had to go through the Clave and Gage to get to you."
"Brass monitors our com pretty closely," Ruth added.
"Okay, hold on then."
The screen went to a soft grey and Sulu sighed. "Why did I think it would be easy?"
"Knocked up?" Jilla repeated.
"Pregnant, with child, in the family way, expecting, a bun in the oven, the rabbit died," Ruth explained.
"The rabbit…?
"Don't ask me, those are standard Terran euphemisms."
"But why are such euphemisms needed?
Ruth shrugged. "Same reason Terrans use nicknames, I guess."
"Terran culture used to be really repressed about sexuality and reproduction," Sulu put in absently. "Sort of how Vulcans are now."
"Indeed?" Spock questioned.
Sulu glanced up at him. One eyebrow was raised in the Vulcan's usual expression of annoyance. Sulu glanced at Ruth, who was grinning, her huge eyes gleaming wickedly. He fought his own grin, then looked directly into Spock's eyes and said calmly, clearly, "Pon farr."
"Sulu!" Jilla hissed, and Spock's ears greened, ever so slightly, but ever so satisfactorily.
"The Time, biological necessity, the madness, blood fever, the Vulcan Way," Ruth recited with no little triumph.
"Point taken, wife," Spock returned.
"But those - euphemisms - make sense," Jilla protested. "'The rabbit died' and 'a bun in the oven' do not."
"Give it up, Jilla," Sulu commented. “Terrans habitually lie about their emotions, remember? And about anything else that makes them uncomfortable."
The com screen resolved and Loki’s smile was an uneasy one. “Kam,” she said, “there’s a little problem with the liquidity of your assets.”
“Look, I don’t care about keeping equity in my portfolio, or about maintaining a workable principal, or about losing a goddamned profit margin,” Sulu growled. “I just want the quarter up Gage gave you and whatever it’s earned in the last couple of years. I’ll pay the early withdrawal penalties.”
Loki’s eyes went wide. "Oh, is that all?”
“What do you mean, ‘is that all’?!” Sulu exploded. “What did you think I was asking for? Haven’s fucking moon?!”
The woman on the comscreen settled back in her chair, studying her fingernails. “Well, to be honest, Kam, I thought you were asking for all of it,” Loki responded as cool as Sulu had been hot.
Sulu’s eyes narrowed in confusion. “All of it? All of what?”
“Your entire investment,” Loki replied, looking a little confused herself.
“That is my entire investment.”
The attractive Haven face went completely expressionless.
“Isn’t it?” Sulu rejoined warily.
“Ah…. I think I’d better contact Uncle Omm again. Hang on.” And before anyone could protest, the screen again went soft grey.
“Have you been holding out on us, Roy?” Ruth asked teasingly, but the joking faded at the troubled look in Sulu’s almond eyes.
“Sulu?” Jilla murmured, reaching out toward him. He stepped away, obviously not from Jilla’s touch, but simply from the com.
“What is it?” Spock inquired, his voice soft with concern.
Sulu only shook his head, closing his eyes. He sat down on the couch across the small room. The Vulcan glanced at Ruth, who shrugged helplessly. Jilla moved to kneel silently beside her husband. There was an awkward pause, then the comscreen came back. This time, it wasn’t Loki, but a strongly built, middle-aged Haven male who wore the simple regalia of the Haven CEO - a dark, emerald-colored signet ring.
“Omm Monolem,” he said. “Where’s Kamikaze?”
“Um - he’s a little - indisposed - at the moment,” Ruth replied.
The handsome face lit up in a smile.
“You must be Spike. My niece has told me all about you - the good and the interesting.” He winked, then his face again became serious. “Do you speak for Kamikaze, racer?”
“I’m not anymore and no, I don’t,” Ruth returned, a little nervously.
“Does the Vulcan, then?”
Spock looked toward the couch. Sulu hadn’t moved, and Jilla was clearly worried. “Rilain…” Spock began.
“Yes, Spock, speak for him,” was Jilla’s soft reply.
Spock turned back to the comscreen. “I do, CEO Monolem,” he said.
On the screen, Omm rubbed his hands together. “Great. Let’s do business. The problem is, Spock - I can call you Spock?”
Spock nodded his assent.
“The problem is that Kam’s assets are all tied together. I can’t release a portion without proper authorization from the other share-holder.”
“Wait a minute,” Ruth broke in. “What other share-holder?”
“As I said, the assets are tied…”
“Who? If Gage tried to pull a fast one…”
Monolem grinned. “I thought you didn’t speak for Kam, Lady Spike.”
“My wife is excitable,” Spock rejoined. “But she asks the appropriate questions. With whom are Sulu’s assets tied, and by what authority?”
“Sulu,” Monolem mused. “If only that had been the name used…” He sighed, shaking his head. “Ah well. To answer your questions, Spock: Kam Ikaze’s assets are tied with those of Starlight Enterprises and Emerald Entertainment. The authority was given when the funds were first entrusted to us, by his guardian at the time, since he himself was underage…”
“What in the name of Zehara are you talking about!” Ruth screeched. “It was a bet, with Dealer Lane Gage, two years ago, that Roy won fair and square and don’t you dare tell me that a Haven welshed on a bet!”
“Of course not, Spike,” Monolem said sternly. “But Kam had hundreds of thousands invested with us long before that particular addition to his portfolio.”
“He what!?!”
“How?” Spock returned, quieting his wife with one stern glance.
“His earnings,” Monolem replied, and settled back.
“As you are obviously disinclined to volunteer information, CEO,” Spock rejoined, “I will ask several questions, saving us valuable time. Earnings from what source, at what time, invested with you by what trust and what figure is accurate for his holdings at the present time.”
A look of satisfied respect crossed the Haven’s features. “The earnings came from his employment at the Hotel Grandé in Rio de Janeiro, Brazil, South America, Terra. They were invested in a shared trust by and with Ruis Calvario…”
“Fuck no!!!” Ruth screeched, and both Spock and Omm Monolem winced.
“…and the total, with interest minus our service fees is 1,858,024 credits, of which 1,114,814 are rightfully owed to Ruis singly.” Monolem showed his teeth. “Adding in the earnings from his wager with Dealer Gage, Kam’s personal holdings are currently at 1,179,841.”
“None of which Sulu can touch without authorization from Mr. Calvario,” Spock said, nodding.
“Cal’s in a rehab colony where I hope he rots!” Ruth spat out. “He can’t possibly have a legal standing to authorize a fucking thing.”
“Quite true,” Monolem agreed. “His portfolio and business profits are being handled at present by a team from Cameron Intragalactic.”
Spock’s eyebrow rose, and he turned to Ruth. “My wife, is not your cousin…”
“David,” Ruth returned.
“Barak,” Monolem supplied helpfully. “But even he can’t authorize the release of these particular assets. Ruis was very - specific - regarding Kam’s account.”
“What is required, CEO Monolem,” Spock asked. His manner was abruptly brisk.
“No less than Ruis and Kam sign for it together,” Monolem returned, “or that one presents a legitimate death certificate for the other.” Then he shrugged. “It made sense at the time. Kam is named heir in Ruis’ will.”
A loud gagging noise made both Ruth and Spock turn from the comscreen. Sulu was bolting for the bathroom, his hand over his mouth. Jilla moved swiftly behind him, but Ruth intercepted her.
“Pregnant women don’t need to deal with vomiting men,” she said. “I’ll take care of him.”
“Thank you,” Jilla murmured, then, “Ruth?”
“Yeah?”
“What is wrong with him?”
The huge purple eyes were guarded. “I don’t know, Jilla. But I’ll see what I can find out.”
At Loki’s words, ‘your entire investment,’ Sulu found his vision tunneling. His response sounded muffled in his ears - and then the universe decided to run away from him. Sounds were distant, sight more so. Jilla’s presence receded. There were images and memories banging at the back of his head, demanding to be known and recognized, but they carried a stench of terror and he refused to look at them. His heart rate picked up, his breathing becoming quick and shallow.
Words penetrated the fog; Starlight Enterprises, Emerald Entertainment, Hotel Grandé, Rio, then the name - 'Ruis' - once, twice, then three, four, - and ‘heir in Ruis’ will’ and knowledge without detail consumed him. The bile rose in his throat and he choked, then bolted for the bathroom.
He vomited almost effortlessly, the contents of his stomach emptying into the toilet bowl. He felt a cool hand on his forehead and memory surfaced: the Academy, Kevin Riley, hearing the news that the Hunter had been caught, hearing the identity of the Hunter revealed, bolting to the head to vomit out the pain and shame and guilt…
“It’ll be all right, Roy,” a soft, caring voice said. It wasn’t Kevin’s, it wasn’t even male, and it brought Sulu back to the present. The convulsions of his stomach eased and he sat back on the floor, gratefully accepting the glass of water Ruth held out to him. He rinsed his mouth thoroughly, then flushed the toilet.
“You want to tell me?” Ruth asked gently.
“Sure,” he replied jauntily, “except for one little thing.” His voice hardened. “I don’t fuckin’ know.”
There was a pause, and he couldn’t bring himself to look at Ruth’s face. Then she said, just as softly, just as gently, “I know what kind of place Hotel Grandé is, Roy.”
Sulu’s stomach spasmed again, and the back of his head started aching. “That makes one of us,” he mumbled. He glanced up. Ruth’s eyes were dark, studying him.
“Loki’s Uncle Omm said your earnings were invested,” she said. “He said at first you were a minor.” Sulu stared at her. The look in her eyes grew puzzled. “Roy, when did you meet Cal?”
Sulu swallowed fresh nausea. “I was 15, why?”
“You really don’t know?” Ruth asked.
“No, I really don’t know,” he reiterated, his tone a little sharp.
She took a deep breath. “Okay, Roy.” She got to her feet, offering her hand to help him to his.
"What do you mean, ‘okay, Roy’?” Sulu demanded.
“I mean we’re gonna leave it for now till we can discuss it together.”
“Leave what?”
Ruth moved out of the bathroom.
“Leave what?!?”
He followed her, and heard Spock saying, “thank you for the information, CEO,”
“My pleasure, Spock. I’ll give you a frequency that won’t be traced to me should Fleet get too nosey, if you require any more information - or my help.”
“Our thanks again, CEO.” Spock touched a button on the comlink to record the frequency. “Spock out.”
“Was that the Haven CEO?” Sulu asked incredulously. Both Spock and Jilla turned from the com.
“Did you not hear…?” Jilla began, and Sulu saw Ruth silently shake her head.
“What the hell is going on here?” he demanded. “Is Loki gonna give me my credit or not?”
“That is a somewhat complicated issue, my friend,” Spock replied, “and will be determined, in part, by factors which are likely to cause you personal discomfort.”
“Translation?” Sulu requested sardonically.
“Sulu, do you not remember…” Jilla again began, and again Sulu saw Ruth shake her head. Placing his hands on his hips, he faced the Antari squarely.
“Spill, Spike,” he ordered.
A third shake. “You’ve gotta answer a couple of questions that are gonna get you real pissed,” Ruth returned.
Sulu’s jaw tightened, but he continued to stare at her.
“Anything you don’t wanna answer probably means you won’t be able to get your credit,” Ruth continued.
Sulu nodded.
“We’ll find some way to make it if circumstances prevent you from…”
“I understand,” Sulu interrupted tersely.
“Remember, we all love you and whatever you did years ago won’t change that and…”
“Enough!” Sulu barked. “Tell me what the fuck’s going on!”
“In what capacity were you employed in Rio, Sulu,” Spock asked quietly.
“Rio?” Sulu snorted. “I never worked in Rio.” The ache in the back of his head grew stronger.
“According to the investment records, you did,” Spock returned. “And were quite successful in monetary terms. CEO Monolem states you earned 85,000 credits in the first year alone.”
Sulu closed his eyes. He was starting to feel dizzy.
“For the next three years, you added approximately 75,000 credits to your portfolio each year,” Spock went on.
The universe again began to recede, and Sulu felt Jilla coming up to his side. “Husband?” her soft voice questioned, and dread swept over him.
“Spock, I think we have to wait a bit,” Ruth said.
“We must know, my wife, if there is any chance of retrieving his fortune.”
“I don’t think you understand…”
“Sulu, what was the nature of your employment, and what has it to do with Ruis Calvario?” Spock demanded.
It was, to Ruth’s mind, like a guitar string snapping. One minute Sulu was there, if a little shaky, and the next, he wasn’t. Or rather, someone else was. She couldn’t understand why Jilla didn’t react. Couldn’t her tia tell that something was desperately wrong?
Sulu shuddered, then his eyes opened. They were darker, somehow, and guarded. He took a deep breath and fixed his gaze on Spock.
“Same game, different player,” he said. “I worked for Cal at Hotel Grandé every weekend while I was still at Alterra. When I went into Fleet, I worked every quarter break. When he got caught, I stopped.”
Ruth stared in agonized disbelief as Spock asked quietly, “In what capacity, Sulu?”
“Kam,” Sulu replied automatically. “Professional sexual companion.” The words were clearly enunciated, as if daring the Vulcan to find fault. Spock only nodded and Ruth waited for the storm to come from Jilla.
To be continued....