The boom echoed for several hundred yards. Without so much as an exchanged glance, Sulu and Jeremy took off at top speed, heading for the place in the mountain range that was sending up a large plume of dust.

“Hey, you guys think that was Ru…” Daffy began, then shrugged, bit her cheek, and started running after her companions.

It took less than five minutes for Sulu and Jeremy to reach the site of the explosion. Jeremy’s long legs got him there first and he immediately started digging through the rubble, calling, “NC! Ruth! Chekov! Sakura!”

Sulu joined him, hauling rocks out of his way with a strength and agility that should have been surprising, but somehow wasn’t. He was also keeping up a steady stream of muttered curses.

When Daffy arrived, she blinked at the pile of dirt and stone. “Oy, she really did explode,” she commented. “Did you try calling for them? And yeah, I mean actually vocally…” she continued, with a snide smirk in Sulu’s direction.

“Stop pushin, Daffodil,” Jeremy snapped, “and get over here and help us dig.”

“I’m a chemist, not a…” she retorted, but before she could finish, Sulu was next to her, grasping her by the back of the neck, forcing her to her hands and knees.

“You want to save your pretty little neck,” he whispered, his voice again dark and dangerous, “I’d suggest you start digging. Because if anyone in that cave dies, I promise you, so do you.”

Daffy, her face having gone quite pale, swallowed and started clawing at the rubble alongside Jeremy.

“I told you to stop pushin’ him,” the TerAfrican murmured quietly.

“I think I’ve forgotten all the warning signs,” Daffy whispered back.

“Or you’re just too wasted to care.”

“Cobra, nobody could get that wasted. Not even me.” After a pause, during which Sulu’s swearing had resumed, the chemist added, “But what’s with the Sir Galahad bit?”

Jeremy stopped, turning to face her. “Don’t you know?”

“Not a clue, bubee.”

The handsome, bearded face frowned. “Really.”

She glanced at him. “Really.”

“You really don’t know.”

“Yeah, I really don’t know. What, I’m speaking a foreign language?”

Paget studied her face for a moment, then frowned. “No, I’d better not.”

Daffy’s green eyes blazed, and she hit the Security lieutenant squarely on the back of his head. “Shande putz!” she snapped at him. “So don’t tell me. Why the hell do I want to know anyway!”

“Daf?” came a faint voice from somewhere behind the rubble. “Daffy, is that you?”

“Mensch?!” Daffy called back delightedly, her annoyance forgotten.

“Thank Zehara! Yeah! Are Cobra and Roy with you?”

“We’re here, darlin’.” Jeremy shouted. “Is everybody okay?”

“Um – not exactly.”

“Motherfuckingsonofabitch!” Sulu suddenly roared, and pushed Jeremy and Daffy aside, tearing great holes in the accumulated dirt and rocks.

“Roy… Roy, calm down, please,” Ruth’s voice said anxiously. “You don’t know… we’re okay, we’re not hurt, it’s not that…”

“Goddamnedsickfuckdumbfuck…”

“Please, Roy…!”

“…cocksuckingbastardsshewasAntaripotentiallylethatalienlifeforms…”

“SULU!”

He opened his mouth for an answer, then abruptly dropped defensively to the ground. Daffy and Jeremy followed suit and the rubble before them blew out and away in an explosive concussion.

When the dust cleared, Jeremy, Sulu and Daffy were confronted with the sight of their four fellow officers covered in dust and dirt against what was presumably once the far wall of the small cave. DelMonde crouched, holding Pavel Chekov in front of him, restraining the navigator with an iron-tight grip on his upper arms. Sakura was apparently attempting to crawl inside either or both of them. Ruth was on her knees next to Del, her hands at the sides of her head.

“You gotta stop doin’ that, babe,” DelMonde drawled.

In what could only be called hovering, Sulu had taken a protective stance over Ruth’s kneeling figure. His arms were fiercely enveloping Sakura, almost absently fondling the soaring yeoman as she clung greedily to him. Del had given control of the still-raging Chekov to Paget and was crouched next to Ruth, his hands placed gently at her temples, staring unblinkingly into her large, purple eyes. Daffy was pacing.

“So, Chekov, what happened?” Paget asked.

Growling, the Russian replied, “Noel thinks we’ve been drugged.”

Daffy made a face. “Oh, come on, bubee, all you were doing was…”

Chekov glared at her. “Yes, that is why Noel thinks we were drugged.”

Paget artfully slipped a scanner from his waistband, while managing to keep a good hold on Chekov’s arm. He switched it on, slowly moving it over first Chekov, then DelMonde, Valley and Tamura. He frowned as the small device confirmed what the Russian had said.

“Look at this, babe,” he said to Sulu.

The helmsman didn’t move. “Tell me,” he ordered instead.

“Ruby for Pavel, here. NC’s full of, big surprise, sapphire.” He frowned in the engineer’s direction.

“I not take it, mon ami,” DelMonde replied without taking his gaze off of Ruth’s.

“He didn’t,” Ruth added, though she, too, remained focused on the Cajun’s face.

“Sakura’s…” Paget began again, then whistled. “Traces of amber, emerald, crystal, but the main thing is…”

“I know, venus,” Sulu interrupted. “I can feel it. What about Spike?”

“Looks like something home-grown, a really powerful stim combined with – shit, amber.”

“I tol’ her they was hornets,” Del rejoined with a wry grin.

“No wonder she can’t control herself,” Jeremy mused. “And Daf…”

“I know what I took,” she said.

“Amber, emerald, and crystal, just like Gypsy, but there’s a stimulant, too…”

“I said I know what I took.”

“So how did all this happen?” Sulu wanted to know.

“Noel theorized it was in the drinks,” Chekov returned sullenly.

“Really?” Paget’s tone turned speculative. “Any way we can test that out, I wonder?”

“First priority’s gotta be getting them somewhere safe,” Sulu said.

“We’re not in any trouble, babe,” Jeremy reminded.

“And I’ve got a nice hotel suite,” Sulu finished. “Can we sneak them back without the local authorities…?”

“If you and Daf can handle it, I can go have another chat with them. I know how to keep cops occupied for an hour or so.” He grinned and turned Pavel to face him.

“You’ve been drugged, Chekov,” he said sternly. “But it’s not the kind of drug that forces you into anything. You can keep control of yourself if you concentrate. Can you do that, Ensign?”

The Russian glared into the taller man’s eyes, but snarled, “Yes, Lieutenant, I can do that.”

“Good man. NC, can you keep Spike from going photon torpedo again?”

“If I stay linked wit’ her, I ‘spect so.” The Cajun shot a wicked glance toward his friend and roommate. “Leastways till I can get her all wrapped up again. Then I guarantee it.”

Paget stifled a chuckle, turning his attention to Sulu and Sakura. “Calm her down a little so she can make it to the hotel,” he suggested. Sulu’s answering smile made him shiver, and the desire that came with it was far from romantic. “Okay, Daffy, I want you to head back to the bar and order the same kinds of drink Sakura had. Just don’t, for God’s sake, down it. Sip it like a civilized lady.”

“Are you by any chance intimating that I’m no lady?” Daffy retorted, but she was grinning.

“Of course,” Jeremy replied with a grin of his own. “You’re better than any lady I’ve ever known. Just don’t down it. I’ll need some of the actual drink to test, as well as its effect on you.”

“Why, Mr. Paget, if I didn’t know you better I’d think you were trying to get me into a compromising position.” Gollub’s grin grew wider. “No, wait, I do know you better.”

“And I know you, Daffodil.”

Daffy preened, and Paget let go of Chekov.

“Come on, people, let’s get this thing moving.”

It was nearly the supreme test of concentration while everyone waited for Sulu to finish ‘calming Sakura down.’ Jeremy and Daffy had already headed back to the city, Pavel was determinedly focusing on duty, and Ruth and Del did their best not to fall into a joined hedonism fest.

Are you always this aware of Roy? Ruth asked silently, taking mental deep breaths and thinking of England.

Only sometimes, the Cajun replied. For his part, he was thinking of alligators. Most ‘specially when he cruisin’.

Why’s that?

Del mentally shrugged.

Has it always been this way?

Long as I known him. Why all th’ questions, babe?

I’m trying to keep both our minds on something other than – oh my! She gasped as a particularly erotic image flashed between them. It was one that was more than a little crude, more than a little kinky, and Ruth’s mental face began turning red.

See, cher, Del drawled, that there’s why me an’ Groupie think him capable o’ those kind o’ t’ings.

But – he’s never been like that with me!

Lucky you.

Ruth frowned, more questions forming in her mind, but before she could ask any, there was a wrenching cry from Sakura, a bellowing exhalation from Sulu, and Del stood up.

“That ‘bout do it,” he said. “Come on, we gotta get goin’ before that ‘calm’ wears off.” He whistled sharply. “Let’s go,T-Paul!” he called.

“They are done so soon?” the Russian said. His tone conveyed just a hint of smugness.

“Done done, hell no,” DelMonde replied. “Jus’ done la petite mort ‘nough to let Gypsy walk, even if it bein’ a li’l funny.”

Chekov made a ‘hmmph’ sound, but rose to his feet. In moments, Sulu and Sakura stepped from what remained of the cave, the helmsman’s arm firmly around the smiling, giddy yeoman’s waist.

“We ready to go?” he asked DelMonde.

The Cajun nodded. Chekov tried not to growl. Ruth tried not to blush. For his part, DelMonde made no attempt to keep the grin from his face.

Jeremy and Daffy approached the precinct house and Paget turned to her. “Get to the bar, Daf,” he said. “I’ll join you there in, oh, say forty-five minutes. Remember, don’t finish the drink.”

“Yes sir, Mr. Red-Shirt, sir,” Daffy replied, and whipped off a smart salute.

As serious as the idea of Fleet officers being deliberately drugged while on leave was, Daffy was having a hard time taking it – or anything else – seriously. It was the combination of chemicals she’d ingested, she knew – and that led her to wonder if there’d been anything extra in what she’d been drinking. “I should’ve thought to ask Cobra,” she said aloud, then realized she had said it aloud, then chuckled to herself.

She made her way to the bar, and did her best to enter casually, striding up to the bar and taking an empty seat. From the glare she got from a young woman returning from the direction of the bathrooms, it hadn’t been empty long, but Daffy gave her a brittle smile that clearly said ‘you move, you lose.’

The bartender ambled over, then frowned. “You again?”

“I’m not with my rowdy friends,’ Daffy explained with a shrug. “You’re telling me my credits aren’t good here?”

“As long as you don’t mess up my bar, I guess they are. Whadd’ll ya have?”

For a moment, the chemist couldn’t remember what Gypsy had been drinking. “A Red Death!” she exclaimed, and the bartender nodded.

As she waited, Daffy tried to recall what everyone – including herself – had had. Chekov, she knew, had stuck with vodka, despite her trying to entice him to live a little. Ruth had been enjoying small glasses of peach schnapps. Del’d had bourbon, and she’d changed her order with nearly every round. She found herself speculating on just how the Haven chemicals could’ve been introduced into each drink – particularly the vodka, which was colorless. It was an intriguing problem, the variables rushing into her mind seemingly effortlessly. When her drink arrived, she found she had no trouble at all obeying Lieutenant Paget’s instructions.

It had seemed, at most, ten minutes when her attention was caught by a small commotion at the door. Cobra, with the police sergeant and two other officers in tow, stood in the open doorway and announced, “Everyone please keep your seats. This is official Starfleet business.”

The dancers stopped their gyrations as the music slowed and stopped. The general level of noise dropped precipitously as the four uniformed men made their way toward the bar, and Daffy.

“If you’ll excuse me, Miss,” Paget said in his best professional voice, and picked up the half-empty glass. He winked at Daffy as he pulled the scanner from his belt. It made an alarming whirring sound. The police sergeant frowned.

“Lily,” he said to the bartender, who was turning interesting shades of red, “you’ve been warned about slipping customers more than they ordered.”

“Now, Sarge, who’re you gonna believe?” she protested. “Me, or…”

“A Federation-issue chemical analyzer,” Jeremy put in in his best no-nonsense red-shirt voice.

“He’s got you dead to rights, Lil,” one of the other officers pointed out.

“You just can’t resist those Haven charmers, can you?” the sergeant rejoined. “How much did they pay you this time?”

“It’s harmless,” Lily protested. “It just gives people a little more of a kick. It doesn’t hurt anybody…”

“No, it just causes the psionically gifted, or those who aren’t used to such things, to have little adverse reactions,” Paget interrupted. “Things like public indecency, lewd and lascivious behavior, assaulting a police officer, resisting arrest, and tearing apart your furniture.”

“You know I can’t hold those Fleeters when you’ve pulled your little stunt, don’t you?” the sergeant said pointedly.

Daffy resisted the urge to point out that the sergeant hadn’t managed to ‘hold those Fleeters.’ But as she grinned appreciatively at Cobra, she was finding other urges were getting harder to resist.

“And you can hardly hold them responsible for the damages, now, can you, Miss?” Jeremy added. “Is that it? Some kind of scam to extort credits from visiting patrons?”

“Oh hell, mister, the Havens said it would just give people a good time,” Lily said dejectedly. She sighed. “Okay, Sarge, the charges are dropped.”

“I’m afraid I’ll have to confiscate your stock, Lil.”

One of the other officers clapped his hands together. “Okay, people,” he called out loudly. “Pay your tabs and move it on out. This bar is closed until further notice.”

As the patrons groaned and began lining up at the register, Jeremy had a final chat with Lily and the Sergeant, then grinned as he made his way toward Daffy and the door.

“Good job, Daffy,” he said.

“Um… there was venus in that drink, wasn’t there?” she said, eyeing him.

“Not much,” he replied. “Gypsy must’ve had a gallon of it for the effect she got.”

“But there’s some,” Daffy persisted.

“Yeah.”

“And why, exactly, did you want me to order that drink in particular?”

Paget was still smiling. “Because venus is illegal.”

“So is ruby,” the chemist pointed out.

The TerAfrican’s eyes were twinkling. “But no where near as much fun.”

“Has anyone ever told you you have the deepest brown eyes?”

“Uh-huh.”

“And is that because you’re so full of shit?”

“If you don’t like me, Daffodil…”

Daffy quickly latched onto his arm. “What’s like got to do with it?” she asked, then shivered. “Come on, snake, get me somewhere clean, comfortable and horizontal.”

“Yes, ma’am,” Paget murmured obligingly.

The sounds that met their ears as they entered Sulu’s hotel room were enough to make them shudder and laugh hysterically at the same time.

Sakura was screaming, “Fuck me!”

Sulu responded with a dark, velvety, “Baby, like you’ve never been fucked in your life.”

Pavel was making a low, growling noise, punctuated by short, Russian epithets.

Soft, urgent gasps and answering moans were coming from behind a couch.

“Honey, we’re home!” Daffy called brightly, then choked on her own giggling.

Chekov stood and stalked over to them. “Are you well?” he asked brusquely, deliberately brushing rock dust and dirt from his clothing.

Unimpressed, Daffy answered, “Relatively.”

“Is the legal situation taken care of?”

“All charges dropped, Chekov,” Paget assured him. “The bar had done this sort of thing before.”

“What, drugging its patrons?”

“Yeah.” Paget shrugged. “The owner apparently has Haven connections.”

“Havens,” the Russian snorted. “Degenerate Cossacks!” He fumed silently for a moment. “And is there no way to remove this – poison – from my system?”

“The only chemical counteragent I know is called angel,” Daffy supplied, “ – which is another degenerate Cossack Haven drug, and no, I don’t have any.”

Chekov swore tightly in Russian, then said, “Then I am returning to the ship. I can sleep this off, can I not?” He looked back and forth between the two, as if daring them to contradict him.

“Sure, Pavel,” Jeremy supplied, handing him a communicator. “Like I said, it doesn’t force you to do anything. Just…”

“Just what? the navigator snarled dangerously.

“Just don’t go near sickbay.” Paget paused. “Ruby is illegal in the Federation.”

Chekov stared, then his jaw got very tense, his cheeks growing hot and red. He glared up at the TerAfrican, then forced a deep breath, then rubbed his hands over his face. “Boizhe moi," he muttered, and walked toward the hotel room door. As he reached it, he turned back with a glacially polite smile. "Please allow me to thank you, Miss Gollub," he growled, "for a most entertaining and informative leave. And while I do appreciate being invited, I promise you," he raised one warning finger, "we will never do this again." Then he stormed out of the room, the familiar twitter of the communicator signal following him.

It was well after dawn before Sakura passed out. Sulu lay beneath her on the carpeted floor, breathing deeply, apparently content to have her dead weight on top of him.

DelMonde and Ruth had been quiet for several hours.

Jeremy and Daffy lit another joint, passing it amiably between them as they lay next to one another, naked, in the king-sized bed. Daffy had, for once, tactfully refrained from commenting on the large assortment of what could only be called accoutrement scattered around the rest of the room; ropes, sexual toys, weights, straps, knives. Instead she took a deep drag of Rigellian, then sighed.

“Thanks for the first aid, Cobra,” she said.

He chuckled. “Any time, Daffodil.”

“So this is how you and Kam spend shore leave?”

Jeremy shrugged. “Usually.”

“Kinky.”

“We are.”

“Don’t I know it, bubee.” She paused. “You know, this really wasn’t my fault.”

“I know. And so will everyone else when they come down and wake up.”

“What’s today?”

“You mean yesterday?”

She thought about that. “Yeah, I guess I do.”

“Tuesday.”

She sighed, settling back against Jeremy’s broad chest. “Then I think there’s a moral to be had, here?”

“Oh? What’s that?”

“Never take shore leave on a Tuesday.”

“What’s Tuesday got to do with it?”

“It’ll give people something to blame.”

“That’s important to you, is it?”

“Better than having them blame me.”

Jeremy laughed.

Daffy spent the rest of her leave with Sakura while Sulu and Jeremy went back to their planned recreation, and Ruth and Del holed up in a room in the same hotel. Five days later, Daffy was in the Chem Lab, appending reports, feeling refreshed and relaxed, when she was interrupted by the voice of the Chief of Sciences.

“Miss Gollub.”

“Yes, Mr. Spock?” she replied, turning to him.

“There is a mystery with which I would appreciate your help.”

“A mystery?” Gollub repeated, immediately thinking in terms of some new alien chemical find.

“When Ensign Chekov was completing some experiments assigned to him in the past week…” The Vulcan began.

“Oy vey,” Daffy murmured.

Spock’s eyebrow rose, but he continued. “… I found it necessary to reprimand him for insubordination and what can only be described as surly and disdainful behavior. In his own defense, he suggested I speak to you concerning a brief albeit ‘degenerate’ shore leave. His word, Miss Gollub.”

Daffy closed her eyes. “Uh, yeah, about that…” She paused. Spock waited patiently. Finally, she cleared her throat and said, “It wasn’t my fault.”

“What wasn’t your fault, Miss Gollub?”

“I thought he needed some – well, loosening up. I mean, he’s as stiff as a – pardon me, sir… So I invited him to take leave with..." she glanced up surreptitiously. "... um, Yeoman Tamura and Ensign Valley and myself. We got - there was this bar with some kind of Haven marketing deal or something."

“Mr. Chekov mentioned something about Vulcan blood?” Spock broke in. Quietly. Pointedly.

Daffy blinked. “Vulcan Blood?” she said, then a smile began quirking helplessly over her lips. “He mentioned Vulcan Blood?” She swallowed the rapidly rising snort. “That’s a Terran drink, sir, a combination of juice and alcohol that’s a dark greenish color, and so was named…”

“I see. And the reason you considered this particular drink an appropriate one for Mr. Chekov was…?”

“It was a joke, sir.”

“A joke.”

“Yeah. You know, friendly teasing? Poking fun at him always being so correct and…”

“Like a Vulcan.”

“Yeah, well, sorta.” She shrugged. “So it’s lame.”

“Indeed,” Spock commented. “As is the idea, which some have intimated, that he is an undercover agent for the interests of 40 Eridani.”

Daffy squirmed.

“And does this drink’s contents explain his altered mood and behavior?” Spock continued.

Gollub took a deep breath. “Well, no. Y’see, and as I was saying, there was this bar with some Haven marketing deal. They slipped – ah – certain chemicals into their patrons’ drinks, hoping, I guess, to increase their clientele by providing extra kicks with their liquor.”

“And considering that many Haven chemicals are addictive to other life forms,” Spock mused, “also guaranteeing a steady supply of customers.”

Daffy let loose an inward sigh of relief. “Yes, sir, exactly.”

“And which chemical was in the Vulcan blood?”

“No, that was at the café we went to before the bar…”

“Before the bar. I see.” He paused again. “Well, Miss Gollub?”

“Well, sir?”

“What Haven chemical was in Ensign Chekov’s drinks at the bar which would account for his behavior?” the Vulcan said patiently.

“Ah – I didn’t have a chem analyzer with me…”

“Then your best guess, Miss Gollub, judging by the effects. You are an expert chemist, are you not?”

“Damn!”

“I beg your pardon?”

“Shit! I mean…” Taking another deep breath, Daffy straightened. “My best professional speculation, sir, is that Ensign Chekov most likely received a mild form of the chemical mix Havens call ‘ruby’ which causes emotional pressures to be channeled into violence. It’s used in professional and semi-professional personal contact sports, sir.”

Spock was watching her, and he nodded. “And the chemicals that were placed into your drinks, Miss Gollub – and Yeoman Tamura’s – and Miss Valley’s – and, I believe, from the Hood, the engineer Noel DelMonde’s?”

Gollub narrowed her eyes. “You know all about it, don’t you, sir?” she accused.

“The planetary authorities gave a quite thorough report, yes, Ensign.”

“So why exactly are you asking, Mr. Spock?” Daffy said with a pleasant grimace.

“I was curious as to Mr. Chekov’s mention of ‘Vulcan blood,’ Miss Gollub.”

“Schmuck,” Daffy muttered, then quickly added, “I meant him, sir, not you.”

Spock cocked his head, one elegant eyebrow rising. “Fascinating,” he said.

The End