Return to Valjiir Stories
“Cobra, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to!” Sakura gasped, pulling herself to her feet and hurriedly adjusting her uniform. “I just came in to see how Sulu was! After the captain’s announcement…”
Jeremy grunted a grudging acknowledgement. Gypsy had never been able to resist Kam, and the pull to see him would have been too strong.
“Just go on back to your work, Saki,” he said, and the blushing yeoman scurried past him.
“Maybe later, Gypsy?” Kam called, wickedly teasing, and the version of Jilla who wasn’t weeping hissed out several words in Vulcan. Kam snapped something back at her, and her skin greened. She let go of him, but didn’t step back and didn’t look away.
“You are mine,” she said, her voice tight. “I will not allow you to claim another without Challenge.”
“I thought that was for the men,” Kam retorted. His tone was cool, but still had a taunting edge.
“And my genetics are that of a male,” Jilla replied. “The imperatives of The Time hold for me as well.”
Kam smiled. “It might be fun to see you and little Gypsy going at it at that,” he murmured. He turned his head, as if just noticing Jeremy’s presence. “How about you, lover?” he asked. He inclined his head towards Jilla. “Think you can take her?”
The clear double entendre was punctuated by the equally clear pictures that invaded his mind, and Paget had to take a moment to stop the shivers of desire. Finally he managed, with a fair amount of sincerity, “I wouldn’t want to try, babe.”
“Liar,” Kam accused.
“I didn’t say I wouldn’t, just that I wouldn’t want to,” Jeremy clarified. Brutal honesty was the only way he had ever found to defuse Kam’s sadistic head games.
The Asian shrugged. “You don’t know what you’re missing,” he said, then added, “More’s the pity. Pon farr is fucking fantastic.”
“How would you know that?” Jilla rejoined coldly.
In answer, Kam tapped his temple. Jeremy ‘heard’ him telling Jilla all he had picked up from her mind of her animalistic coupling with Spock two years preciously. The Vulcan stiffened.
“Do not test me, farrern,” she warned. “I will kill if I must, and Starfleet will court martial us both.”
“What makes you think I’m staying in Fleet?” Kam asked with a mocking smile. “And wherever I go, you’ll have to follow.” The smile widened. “Won’t you, farrei.”
“Do not test me,” she repeated. She turned to Paget. “Did I not charge you with monitoring his behavior?”
“I was with Sulu, Lady,” Jeremy replied apologetically. “Sakura wasn’t here when I left the room.”
“Perhaps he needs you more than his counterpart does,” was her cold suggestion.
Kam burst into sensual laughter and Jeremy shivered again. “Lady, I don’t know if I’m that strong,” he offered humbly.
“She’s thinking then it’s your funeral,” Kam said, his dark eyes sparkling.
Jilla glared at him one last time, then turned on her heel and left Sickbay.
Jeremy shook his head.
“Babe, you were supposed to be takin’ care of the little one,” he admonished.
“Oh, I was, I was,” Kam said, his voice still filled with amusement. “Gypsy only wanted to help.”
“You know you can’t do that,” Jeremy returned.
Kam’s amusement turned dark. “Can’t I?”
“You really want Saki dead?”
Kam tossed his long hair over his shoulder, a clear if casual capitulation. Jeremy wisely didn’t point it out.
“How’s the regression coming?” the Asian asked as he sat down on the bed, stroking the Indiian Jilla’s shoulder with inattentive comfort.
“Han’s got him talking,” Paget answered.
“About?” Kam said.
“You. Cal.” Jeremy made a face.
“All about how he loves him, hmm?” Kam snorted. “Sick-fuck bastard.”
“Can I ask you something?” Jeremy said.
Kam didn’t look up. Jilla was calming, and the TerAfrican decided to just plunge on ahead.
“When you say you’ve protected him…” he began.
“He doesn’t remember, does he?” Kam cut him off.
“Because you keep the doors locked…”
“Because he didn’t live through it,” was the enigmatic answer.
Paget’s heart started thundering. The parameters of the psychological condition known as multiple personality disorder began playing in his head. “You mean he didn’t – he wasn’t there when – he didn’t experience…”
“No, I mean he didn’t live through it,” Kam repeated. His head turned, his eyes veiled. “I did.” He grinned but there was no pleasure in it. “He got better, though.”
Jeremy blanched. “He – he didn’t live…” he began, his voice a hoarse whisper.
“Didn’t I just say that?”
“I don’t understand…”
“Then maybe you need to go back to shrink school, honey.”
Jilla started to sit up, her tear-streaked face full of sorrow and grief, her voice small and soft.
“Sulu?”
“Right here, sweetheart,” Kam murmured.
She blinked, saw Jeremy, then flushed brightly, her arms crossing over her disheveled uniform.
“It’s all right, Lady,” Jeremy assured. “I didn’t see nothin’.”
“I am no lady,” she answered brokenly.
“You’ll always be ‘lady’ to him,” Kam told her, then took her into his arms. “Now if you’ll excuse us, Cobra…?” His eyebrow rose suggestively.
“No more attempted threesomes, foursomes, or anything else-somes with anyone but her,” Paget said.
Kam only smiled.
Jeremy went to the sickbay door, standing just outside it as guard and blockade for anyone else who might be drawn to Kam’s siren song, trying to make sense of the furious information chasing itself around in his head.
The centrifuge had finally finished separating the molecules of the lubricant and the transporter circuitry from those of the ore, and that from the molecules of xenoneurophene. Daffy proceeded to run tests on each within the transporter matrix Del and Scott and Majiir – Takeda –oy, the Vulcan! the chemist corrected and re-corrected her thoughts – had set up in the lab. Just as she had theorized, it was the matrix itself that activated the xenoneurophene, its inert blue tint taking on a cerulean sheen that was at once compelling and utterly repulsive.
Not that I have any interest at all in ever having the farkakta shit in my system ever again, Daffy mumbled to herself.
“Not that it had any noticeable effect on you anyway, seeing as how you’re already certifiable,” Ruth’s voice said from behind her.
Daffy jumped and pivoted around. The Antari was leaning against a work table, wearing a skirt that was even shorter than a uniform, made from what appeared to be a command uniform, and a pinkish halter thing held together by lacing and beads that barely covered anything that it was supposed to.
“Don’t do that!” Gollub complained. “You want I should have a heart attack?”
“You have a heart?” ani Ramy quipped, then was suddenly standing next to her, peering over her shoulder. “Ooh, pretty,” she commented.
“Meet your creator,” Daffy said dryly. “Made-up Antari, xenoneurophene, xenoneurophene, galaxy-class bitch.”
The Antari laughed, a dismissive sound that irritated Gollub further. “Can you prove that?” she asked.
“The transporter matrix activates it,” the chemist said. “The question is, where did it come from? Native to Theraxa – or to anywhere for that matter – it’s not.”
“It’s native to handsome, dashing, sexy, willing Kamikaze,” ani Ramy purred suggestively.
“No, just because its basic components can be found in the sweat of Human empaths… wait, a minute, did you say willing?” Daffy interrupted herself.
The Antari laughed again and Gollub scowled.
“Majiir’s gonna kill you,” she pointed out.
“Not if she can’t catch me,”ani Ramy countered.
“Oy geveult, you didn’t!”
The Antari gave her a Cheshire cat smile. “The Vulcan has a theory,” she said, ignoring Daffy’s question. “He thinks the pretty blue cocktail got somehow intermixed in the matrix because of the fact that it’s never really gone away in me and Kam. Of course,” she went on, still peering at the electron microscope as if she could see into it without using the eyepiece – which she probably can, Daffy thought sourly, “that doesn’t explain why this hasn’t happened every time we’ve transported since Dreamland, does it?” She shook her head with another irritating laugh. “He just can’t see the bigger picture.”
“And you can, I suppose?” Gollub asked, folding her arms.
“I see everything,” ani Ramy said, tapping her temple, than laughed yet again. “I sound just like Del on Dreamland, don’t I? Oh, wait, you weren’t there then. That gorgeous hunk of security man had already shot you in the back by that time.”
“Don’t remind me,” Daffy scowled.
“You don’t like knowing that everyone finds you as useless and obnoxious as I do?” ani Ramy asked, blinking her large eyes in mock- innocence.
“But you know everything, don’t you?” Gollub shot back. “Like the fact that no one likes you, but everyone seems to adore the nice Human Jewish girl?”
“They’ll tire of her whining soon enough, believe me,” the Antari promised. “I know I certainly have.”
And with that, the chemist was abruptly alone in the lab. She stuck out her tongue at the air, then turned back to her tests. In short order she was able to conclude that it was the ore and not the xenoneurophene that was damaging the transporter circuitry. The isolated chemical did nothing to the spare parts that Del had given her for testing, where the ore immediately began corroding them. The smug triumph crowding out the last traces of Antari-induced annoyance, she went to the comm to give Scott the good news.
After Ruth woke up, it took several minutes for Spock to calm her down. Her fury was a cover for deep-seated fear, and her no-longer-Vulcan husband found its familiarity comforting. He had hardly imagined that it was the Antari who used bravado in such a fashion, and he found that without the fanatical devotion to logic, it was a most understandable as well as endearing reaction.
“She thinks she’s so smart,” his Human wife raved. “I was the one who did all the work at Alterra and the Academy. What, does she think she charmed all those high test scores out of the instructors? Ha! I just bet she does, the bitch!”
“I am a well aware of how deserved your doctorates are, beloved,” Spock soothed. “Why don’t we use your brilliance now to discover the source of the agricultural blight?” He smiled warmly at her, and said with her, “That’ll show her.”
Ruth grinned at the repetition. “I love you, do you know that?”
“Why, yes, my wife, I believe I do,” he returned.
They pulled on their uniforms and Ruth went to get cups of coffee and tea as Spock moved to the computer, setting two chairs before the screen. When she handed him the tea, he hesitated, then looked up at her.
“I think I would prefer coffee,” he stated.
Ruth blinked at him, a smile pulling at her lips. “Really?” I thought…”
“My mother drinks coffee,” he told her. “And I have no cultural inhibitions against the use of mild stimulants.”
“I knew it was you who got addicted to cordrazine,” she commented as she went to exchange the tea.
“Actually, no,” he said. “It was his devotion to the false clarity it gave his mind. He was so anxious to have proof that he was really Vulcan after all…”
His voice faded and Ruth came to him, placing her arms around his neck. “Poor bubee,” she whispered.
One eyebrow quirked. “Does that imply that you are as much mini-Daphne as Pavel is mini-Spock?”
With an impish grin, she smacked the back of his head. They laughed, then both settled down in front of the computer.
They studied all the information that had already been gathered, Ruth nodding at the conclusions that were apparent in the test results from the Chemistry Lab.
“I knew the blue loony juice couldn’t be damaging the equipment,” she said.
“And it is equally obvious that the xenoneurophene had a hand in creating the genetic splitting,” Spock agreed.
“Who knew I’d ever be grateful to that stuff?” Ruth murmured. Spock gave her another smile.
“The question, however,” he continued, “as Miss Gollub notes, is where the chemical came from.” At Ruth’s grin, he added, “As Daphne also notes.”
“She’s really smart, despite her usual demeanor,” Ruth said with a fond smile of her own. “I wish David hadn’t fucked her over so badly.”
"Your cousin David?"
"Yeah, the putz."
“I would have thought such callousness came solely from the Antari genetics,” Spock mused, and both their minds were flooded with a fierce, Watch it!
“Does she monitor everything we think?” Ruth scowled.
I’d die of boredom, was the flippant response, and the sense of Ruth’s Antari self vanished.
“It is undoubtedly a mental connection that cannot be fully broken,” Spock offered.
“Yeah,” his wife agreed grimly. “Let’s just concentrate on our work, shall we?”
After reviewing the data from the Theraxan colonies, and that from the Hood and the Constitution, one thing became increasingly clear.
“It is not the ore that causes the blight seen in the crops,” Spock stated.
“The xenoneurophene is interacting with organic matter,” Ruth confirmed. “It’s breaking down the genetic coding.”
“Just as it did in us,” Spock concluded.
“So we’ve got two problems,” Ruth continued. “The ore in the machinery…”
“…and the chemical compound in the agriculture,” Spock finished, “as well as the question of…”
“…where the loony juice same from,” Ruth said, then smiled at him. “So we call this what? Val-ock? Spalley?”
Spock grinned. “I think, my wife, that we call it a marriage.”
“Of brilliance,” Ruth returned, and kissed him. “Let’s get our findings to Jim.”
Kirk was standing next to the Uhura on the Bridge, receiving the latest reports from the Hood, the Constitution and the shuttles on the Theraxan planets. The news was not good. The problems with the machinery were spreading, and the agricultural blight was accelerating. The colonists were starting to panic, demanding that the shuttles transport them from the planetary surfaces NOW, before the engines became inoperative or the starships’ damage prevented an evacuation all together.
Pavel Chekov stood next to the captain, having just returned from yet another shuttle run to Theraxa 3. The navigator’s frustration was evident in the way his Russian pessimism was increasing.
“Captain do we have any idea of the cause of this situation?” Chekov was saying. “It would be marginally helpful if I could tell the colonists something.”
“I’m still waiting on the reports from…” Kirk began, then stopped at the turbolift hissed open and the Vulcan Spock and Jilla emerged. Jim noted the widening of the Russian’s eyes as he saw the duplication of Mrs. Majiir for the first time.
“Captain,” Spock said, “Mrs. Takeda and I have…”
“Takeda?” Chekov interrupted.
“Sulu is my husband,” Jilla responded coolly.
While the navigator was clearly pondering that startling announcement, Spock went on. “We have two theories which require testing,” he continued. “Firstly, as concerns the source of the xenoneurophene in the transporter matrix…”
“Bozhe moi!” Chekov murmured.
“Indeed,” Spock commented, with a mild glare at the navigator’s second interruption. “My suggestion is that samples of the ore be tested on the planetary surfaces. If the compound is present there, we can rule out the possibility of the chemical having been somehow obtained from that which remains in the systems of Miss Valley and Mr. Sulu.”
“You’re thinking that the ore somehow released it in the transporter?” Jim asked.
“It is a theory, Captain,” Spock returned.
“Oh, they won’t like that,” Uhura said.
Spock turned to her. “I fail to see why they should have any reaction to such information at all,” he countered.
“They’ll think this was all their fault, Mr. Spock,” the Communications Officer explained calmly.
“Illogical,” he and Jilla responded together.
Chekov blinked, clearly startled.
Uhura’s smile was gentle, but firm. “Human,” she corrected.
“As I said,” Spock told her sternly.
“Implying that it’s a flaw…” Uhura retorted.
Jilla’s head tilted to one side. “Is it not, Lieutenant Commander?”
“Enough,” Jim broke in. “Lieutenant Chekov, can you conduct those tests?”
“Certainly, Captain,” the Russian replied, still staring at the Vulcan Jilla.
“And the second theory?” Kirk prompted.
“Mrs. Takeda notes that the contamination is propagating in an organic fashion,” Spock answered, “implying that the true source of the problems may be a compound, perhaps even xenoneurophene, brought by the colonists themselves since they manifested well before our arrival. Therefore, they must also be tested for any anomalous chemical traces related to xenoneurophene. One or the other or both of these theories could prove correct.”
“Good work, Spock, Mrs. – Takeda,” the captain said. “At least we’ve got something to go on.” He turned back to Uhura. “Relay these theories to the Hood and the Constitution. Chekov, begin the preparation for the testing planetside.”
Both officers responded with quiet affirmatives, but while Uhura started her messages, Chekov continued to stare at the Vulcans.
“Is there a problem, Mr. Chekov?” Jim asked.
No – no, sir, It’s just – I just…” the Russian stammered.
The turbolift opened again, and the navigator’s eyes nearly popped out of his head. The Human Ruth Valley and the Human Spock stepped onto the Bridge, then stopped.
“Captain, we have some information…” the Human Spock began, and Chekov swallowed audibly.
“Mr. ….Mr. Spock?” he managed.
The Human smiled at him. “Such as it is, Pavel,” he said.
Chekov began a murmured string of Russian, and Ruth frowned. “Well, hello to you too, Pav.”
“I… this is… you cannot be…”
“This is all a little unsettling, Lieutenant,” Kirk rejoined.
Chekov’s eyes continued to bug out of his head as the Human Spock returned his attention to Kirk.
“Sir, Ruth and I have come to the conclusion that we’re dealing with two separate issues,” Spock said. “It’s the ore which is causing the mechanical degradation, but the organic compounds inherent in the xenoneurophene which are causing the breakdown of organic matter.”
“It’s likely the juxtaposition of the two caused the organic splitting in the transporter,” Ruth continued. “We need to discover the source of the xenoneurophene…”
“We have just presented two possible theories on that matter,” the Vulcan Spock interrupted.
“We?” Ruth asked, glancing a little suspiciously at Jilla.
“Mrs. Takeda was most helpful,” Spock informed her.
“Oh she was, was she?”
“Jealous, my wife?” the Human Spock murmured.
Ruth blinked. “No, I… well… they are mated – were – and I…”
“I would never intrude on your marriage, Ruth,” Jilla stated.
“And I take our contract quite seriously,” the Vulcan Spock confirmed. “I am gratified that, apparently, you do as well.”
“Unlike your Antari half,” Human Spock added.
Chekov made a choking noise.
“All right, this is all good news,” Jim broke in.
“Captain,” Uhura said suddenly, “I’ve just received the report from Chemistry. Lieutenant Gollub indicates that it is the xenoneurophene which caused the genetic splitting, and that it is a separate problem from the ore in the machinery.”
“Which confirms your speculations, Mr. Spock, Miss Valley, Mrs. Takeda, – uh – “ He glanced at the Human Spock. “Mr. Spock,” he repeated. “So we have a base to work from. We find the source of the xenoneurophene, we clean the contamination of the transporter units and we find a way to neutralize both the ore and the…”
“Looney juice,” Ruth put in helpfully. The Human Spock snorted in amusement. The Vulcan Spock frowned. There was mild disapproval from Jilla, and Chekov repeated, “Bozhe moi.”
“Yes,” Kirk finished. “Get to work, people.”
”I don’t know what you want me to say,” the not-fourteen-year-old Sulu said, his gaze lingering on Jeremy Paget’s retreating form.
Jade softly cleared her throat, regaining his attention. “Tell me about Ruis Calvario,” she said. “What was he like, what was your relationship like?”
The handsome face flushed. “Like I said,” he answered. “He loved me.”
“And did you love him?” Jade asked.
“Yes,” was the quiet response, then Sulu’s eyed darkened. “And no. Sometimes. Maybe.”
“Why so equivocal, son?” McCoy put in.
“He wasn’t always…” Sulu glanced away. “Good to me,” he nearly whispered, then shuddered. “But when he was… It’s kind of hard to explain.”
“In what ways was he good to you?” Jade prompted.
“He was generous. He let me practice the more tricky racing maneuvers in his needle. He helped finance my ship. He gave me…” Sulu’s voice cut off, his face reddening again. “Anything I wanted, really. Chemicals, partners…”
“Partners?” McCoy broke in.
The helmsman grimaced. “Sex, Doc,” he explained tersely.
Jade nodded, forestalling anything the older doctor might have to say on the subject.
“And when he wasn’t good to you?” she continued.
Sulu stared at the deck, his hands twisting around each other. “It was subtle,” he finally said. “He wouldn’t exactly threaten me, but… he used to get this look – hard, but sorrowful at the same time. And he’d say things like, ‘haven’t I given you – whatever? Haven’t I done this or that thing for you? Why are you so ungrateful? Is it so much trouble to give me a little back, to bring pleasure to an old man?’”
“And what sorts of things did he want from you, Sulu?” Jade persisted.
“I don’t wanna think about that,” the helmsman mumbled.
“It’s all right, you’re safe here,” Jade said. “If we know what causes you such pain and fear, we can help you deal with it.”
“No, you can’t,” Sulu said.
“Why do you think he loved you?” the psychologist asked, trying a different tack.
“He said it all the time,” was the quiet answer. “He called me beautiful, said I was precious, his prince, his jewel, his pet…” The dark eyes began to flash with fear, his heart rate picking up.
“Did he hurt you?” McCoy asked gently.
Sulu had to swallow before he could answer. “Sometimes,” he whispered.
“Physically?” Jade rejoined. “Sexually?”
The voice was fainter. “Sometimes.”
“Did he force you to do things – physically, sexually – that you didn’t want to do?”
“That’s the problem,” was the nearly inaudible response.
“What was?”
“I – I took a lot of amber – and – that meant – that must have meant – you don’t do anything on amber that you don’t want to do, but it lets you do things – anything you do want to…”
“Sulu, did he suggest things for you to want to do?” Jade questioned.
Sulu’s head jerked up, panic evident in his gaze. “Why would you ask that?”
Jade nodded. “It’s those things you don’t want to think about, isn’t it?”
“It wasn’t like that!” Sulu burst out. “I don’t know what Jer told you, but…” His eyes went wide, terror once again pouring from him. “Oh god, oh god, make it stop…!”
“Make what stop, son?” McCoy broke in.
“I can hear him, he’s still here, his voice in my head… god, please, no more, no more…!”
Jade grasped on to his hands, and snapped out, “Leonard, get Mr. Paget!”
McCoy nearly knocked over his chair as he hurried to the door of the isolation room.
Jeremy was doing his best to ignore the sounds of the coupling that was taking place scant feet behind him. Kam’s obscenity laden murmurs of dark delight sent shivers all through him, and Jilla’s unexpectedly vocal moans and cries were making the situation very hard.
Yeah, and difficult, too, he thought with a grimace. He caught what had to be an Indiian nova from the corner of his eye, and fought with the urge to take just one small peek…
Just keep breathin’, he ordered himself. Nice, slow, even breaths… count to a hundred… think of… shit, rotting meat, vomit, corpses…anything but bronzed sinewy muscle and soft, round silver voluptuousness…
I could give you a detailed, real-time description if you want, Cobra, whispered in his mind. Her legs are wrapping around my hips, her hands clawing into my back…
Stop it, Jesus, Kam, please…!
“Mr. Paget, we need you in here!” McCoy’s gruff voice barked, and Jeremy blessed him for the interruption. He rushed back to the isolation room, hearing Kam’s laughter echoing in his head.
You don’t have to be here for me to continue, was the wicked taunt.
Just shut up! Paget begged, and forced himself to focus on Jade and Sulu. His love was again panicking, and grief stole the thunder of hunger and need from his body.
“Babe, it’s all right, I’m here!” he said, kneeling beside Sulu’s chair to take the quaking form into his arms. “Dr. Han, what happened?”
“The hypnosis broke,” Jade told him. “What chemicals did he use at the Clave besides amber?”
Jeremy shook his head sadly. “How many are there?” he asked wearily.
“In what sequence?” the doctor wanted to know.
“Sequence?” Paget snorted ruefully. “All at the same damn time.”
McCoy blanched. “Why in god’s name would he want to…”
“Because the sick-fuck asked him to,” was the fierce retort.
“Asked?” Jade rejoined. “Or told.”
“It never made no difference to him.”
“But it does to me,” the doctor countered. “Did Calvario instruct him to take the chemicals?”
“Calvario instructed him in everything,” Jeremy answered.
“And you said he was coercive, manipulative…”
“He was a goddamned master at it!” Paget hissed.
Jade nodded decisively. “We’ve got to find a way to shut out those memories until we can reintegrate him with Kam.”
Jeremy swallowed. He knew by her tone of her voice that she was using the term ‘reintegrate’ with psychological precision – and that scared the wits out of him, for it meant that she, too, was aware that they were dealing with a true multiple personality. Ruth’s words, You’re the one who’s promiscuous and egotistical… terrible, vile, odious… the worthless, arrogant, using whore... and Kam’s response, All except the ‘whore’ part. That’s somebody else, screamed in his memory, followed by, he didn’t live through it. I did
Sweet Jesus, does that mean – are there more… Christ babe, what did that monster do to you!
“Mr. Paget!” Jade’s voice snapped him out of his reverie.
“Shojis,” he managed. “That’s how Sulu walls Kam away. He builds mental shojis.”
“What are…” McCoy began, but Jade nodded.
“Good. Help me get him calm again, and we’ll try that.”
It was Paget’s turn to nod, and he focused all his attention on Sulu, speaking softly and calmly until the panic subsided and his best friend and only love was again able to focus on Jade’s stylus and her soft, mesmerizing voice.
Jim was headed to Sickbay to check on his crew who were still confined, when he was stopped in his tracks by the sudden appearance of Ruth Valley, who seemed to just appear in front of him. She smiled at him, and he was immediately flooded with mega-watts of desire. He flushed, then said, “Excuse me, Miss Valley,” and tried to step around her. In an instant, she was squarely in front of him again, and he would have sworn before a Starfleet tribunal that he hadn’t seen her move.
He stopped again, sighing. “I take it there’s something you want?” he said patiently.
You mean besides a good spanking? she said in his head, and he had to take a deep breath to stop the pictures filling his brain.
“You’re a married woman,” he reminded her.
Says who?
“Says the legal document you signed right in front of me less than a year ago,” he replied.
She waved one elegant, graceful hand. “Oh, that,” she said aloud. “That wasn’t me. Antaris don’t recognize those silly Federation three-year contracts.”
“That’s funny,” the captain returned. “I could’ve sworn we had the blessings of the Matriarchy of Antares.”
Ani Ramy frowned, then abruptly brightened. “Whatcha doin’ Jimmy?” she asked in a sing-song voice.
“Going to sickbay.”
The Antari made a face. “Ick. What a depressing place. But then again…” Her eyes took on a wicked, alluring gleam. “There is something very – intriguing – going on right now.” She took his hand and started forward. “Come on, you don’t want to miss the show!”
Jim pulled back, keeping his place. “What show?” he asked, suspicion making him wary.
A picture of a very intense tryst, colored in bronze and silver was pushed before his mental eyes.
Not that I find her all that appealing, ani Ramy remarked. But mmm, look at the lines of his back!
Jim flushed again. “Not my type, Miss Valley,” he informed her.
Of course not, she agreed. You get her, I get him.
“You’re married,” Jim repeated.
The Antari whirled, stomping her foot. “Will everyone just stop saying that?!” she demanded.
“Fact are facts,” the captain returned with a grin.
“Where’s a pitcher of water when I need one?” she muttered, and Jim once again found himself reddening. But when he opened his mouth to reply, she vanished as if she’d never been there. He shook himself, took two steps –
– and was suddenly doused with a great deal of water from an invisible source.
“Miss Valley!” he shrieked.
Was it good for you, too? floated sweetly in his mind, followed by a torrent of giggles. By the way, I think it’s really funny for you to keep doing things the hard way.
“What hard way?” Jim muttered.
I told you before I could fix this, she replied.
“Then why don’t you?”
How would you ever learn anything if I did? was her laughing response. Then her presence was again gone.
He wiped the water from his face, slicking his wet hair back, and heard footsteps behind him. He turned to see Spock approaching him, his face set in hard, glowering lines.
“My wife was responsible for this?” the Vulcan’s grim voice challenged.
“Unless the Enterprise’s water systems sprung a leak in mid air,” Jim returned, just as grimly.
“I will attend to her, Captain,” Spock assured, and strode off down the corridor purposefully.
You’ll never catch me! rang throughout the empty hallway, and Jim sighed,
You’d better hope not, Angel, he thought.
“Damn,” Noel DelMonde swore as he stepped out the shower in his quarters.
His visitor gave him an impish, golden sunshine smile. Surprised? she asked from her perch beside the sink.
“That you been so busy flirtin’ wit’ every other man on this ship that it took you this long to pop in here t’ bother me?” he asked sourly as he reached past her for his towel.
She graced him with another very satisfied grin. Then you’re jealous.
“No,” he replied, wrapping the towel around himself. “I aggravated.”
The Antari raised a dubious eyebrow. And shy?
Del frowned as he reached past her for his comb. “I not got a lot o’ enthusiasm for bein’ eyed by other men’s wives.”
There’s no Bond between he and I… either of him, she replied firmly. I’ve already explained that.
“The Vulcan version not seem to have got that memo,” the Cajun said, running the comb through his hair while he searched for the clean uniform he was sure he’d laid out before he got into the shower. “An’ will you jus’ talk like a normal person?”
She tilted her head to one side, not bothering to deny that she was the one who had made his clothes go bye-bye. “I thought you weren’t afraid of a figment of the transporter’s imagination,” she said aloud.
“I not afraid o’ bein’ put on report by one.” The engineer punched a request for another uniform into the ‘fresher unit. “As far as havin’ my neck snapped in two, though…”
“I can protect you,” the Antari assured him.
“This not about me bein’ scared,” he replied.
“Then…” She lightly hopped off the sink and moved to stand beside him. “What is it about?”
Even the smell of her was delicious.
The Antari giggled as she touched Del’s bare chest. “’Cause something has sure got your heart rate up.”
“This,” he said, unsmilingly removing her hand, “is about you gettin’ your flighty ass up out o’ here, pronto.”
“Del…” she protested, insinuating herself between the engineer and the chute that would deliver his fresh uniform.
The Cajun put his hands on his hips impatiently. “What?”
She looked up at him, her exquisite violet gaze suddenly serious. “I’m really only here for one thing.”
The engineer rolled his eyes.
“Okay,” she admitted with a sultry glance at his towel-draped loins. “Two things.”
“An’?” he prompted unsympathetically.
She laid her hand gently on his shoulder. “It was me, wasn’t it?”
Raw desire ripped through him like a buzzsaw, shredding his resolve. He had to clear his throat before he could choke out, “Lissen…”
She let him lift her hand off his shoulder, but when he moved to release his grip, she intertwined her fingers around his.
“You’re going to tell me that you love the Human part of me too,” the Antari Ruth said, bringing his captured fingers to stroke lightly against her cheek. “That without a Human part it wouldn’t have been the same.”
The radiating delight of her touch was swift and painful as a knife. “It wouldn’a been, cher,” he managed to whisper.
“No,” she agreed, then ran his knuckles over her honey-sweet lips. “It would have been better.”
Del’s abused heart threatened imminent, fiery immolation.
“Because it was really me who you loved, wasn’t it?” She mercilessly kissed the backs of each of his fingers. “You might have been attracted to the Human girl. She’s smart. She’s pretty. But eventually you would have gotten tired of her. She wouldn’t have understood you. She didn’t understand you. She was the one who fought with you.”
The engineer tried to blink away the tears that suddenly blurred his vision. Memories. The intolerable closeness of her…
“I was the one you you loved, wasn’t I?” The Antari smiled as she brushed his fingers against her temples. “The one who loved you. The one you still dream of… Who your arms ache for at night…”
“Cher…” Del pleaded, shaking his head and closing his eyes.
“She was the one who fell in love with him,” the golden Ruth informed him, driving home the sharpest arrow in her quiver. “I’m the one who still loves you… Who you still love.”
Del swallowed hard and pulled his hand back to his side. “You throwin’ that ‘love’ word ‘round a lot here, darlin’. Does an Antari even know what it mean?”
She smiled and released his fingers. “An Antari knows what it is to cherish,” she assured him, letting her hands rest on his hips as she drew close. “We know what it is to adore, to want past all reason, to burn with desire like a thousand suns…”
As their lips met, they were interrupted by a horrible banging noise coming from the direction of the door to Del’s cabin.
“I reckon that your imaginary husband come t’ break my neck,” the Cajun surmised, breaking free and moving her clear of the ‘fresher. “Mind if I put on some pants?”
Before Del could even make it to the door, Ruth vanished.
“Wassa matter, cher?” he called to the now empty room. “You ‘fraid o’ that big, bad Vulcan o’ yours?” then he added, “Yeah, come,” to the door and turned back to the ‘fresher unit to finish dressing,
The cold swept through his cabin with the familiar, hated voice asking, “Where is she?”
“She were here a second ago,” DelMonde replied as he pulled on his shirt. A long-fingered hand grabbed the back of it, turning him around.
“And you were half naked, Mr. DelMonde?” Spock accused, his tone a clear growl though the words were said calmly.
“Actually she popped in while I was showerin’…” the engineer began, before his mouth could consult his brain.
He was lifted about a foot off the deck by the uniform collar.
“You have been warned regarding your attitude, have you not?” the Vulcan inquired.
The Cajun swallowed hard. “I not touch her,” he managed, his mind quickly advising him not to mention the brief kiss. He was thrown backwards, landing across his bed. He immediately got up on his elbows, glaring at the commander.
“She teleport in an’ out how an’ when she want,” he informed his superior. “What you ‘spect me t’ do ‘bout it?”
“She is my wife,” Spock said.
Tell her that,” Del retorted.
“I have.”
“An’ so have I. Does she lissen to you?”
The Vulcan’s face darkened. “No, she does not.”
"Well, there ya go, then,” Del returned, and pushed up from the bed. “Look, Commander, this not my fault. I never make no secret ‘bout what I feel, but I never done not’ing ‘bout it neither. I know she yours.”
“It is well you do, Mr. DelMonde.”
“But it jus’ as clear she not t’ink of it like that,” the engineer persisted recklessly. “At leas’ her Antari self not, an’ her Human self seem more interested in the Human half ‘o you. I might wanna t’ink on that if I was you.”
“Then it is fortunate you are not,” was the cold reply.
“They be bells ringin’ in heaven on that,” Del muttered.
“Indeed,” the Vulcan said, then turned on his heel and left the cabin. Just outside the door, he turned.
“And for clarity’s sake, Mr. DelMonde, should you ever find occasion to be alone with my wife again, do not doubt that I will break your handsome neck.”
Del scowled at the door, not quite quick enough to come up with a retort before it closed. Then the Vulcan’s last words penetrated his brain.
“Handsome, huh?” he snorted, controlling both the flush and the slightly sick feeling. “Who’da thought that?”
He heard a faint echo of Ruth’s voice groaning Ick! and shook his head.
Jus’ stay outta my cabin, cher, he thought at her. Fo’ both our sakes.
For reasons Pavel Chekov couldn’t comprehend, the Vulcan with Jilla Majiir’s face followed him from the Bridge to the Chemistry lab. For reasons further passing understanding, he was acutely aware of her presence, so much so that he was certain his face was beet red when they arrived. Daphne was muttering to herself as she peered into a microscope, taking notes, and the Russian politely cleared his throat. The chemist turned, the irritated scowl on her face turning into a suspicious one.
“What’s she doing here, and why is she with you?” she asked her lover.
“The answer to both questions is I don’t know,” Chekov replied, hoping she would take that as the reason for his flushed cheeks. “The Captain wishes you to brief me on the tests needed to detect the presence of xenoneurophene in both the colonists and in the ore deposits on the Theraxan planets as well as in the cometary spore samples.”
“He doesn’t think the King and Queen of Pathic Gifts Gone Bad leeched it into the transporter?” Daffy replied.
“If I understand your meaning, Miss Gollub,” Jilla interjected, “I must ask you to refrain from such speculation regarding my husband.”
The chemist stared at her, unblinking. Green eyes met pale brown. Jilla tilted her head disapprovingly. Daffy pursed her lips. One Vulcan eyebrow rose in cool but clear challenge. Terran arms were folded in answer, refusing to back down. Daffy straightened. Jilla straightened.
Just when Pavel was about to call Security, his Human girlfriend shuddered. “Damn!” she swore softly, and looked away, moving next to him..
“One should never attempt to stare down a Vulcan, Dafshka,” the navigator whispered.
“Brrrr!” Daffy commented, and shivered.
“At any rate,” Jilla went on, as though the contest of wills had never taken place, “I am here because I thought to assist Mr. Chekov in his preparations”
“You’re a grease monkey, not a chemist,” Daffy pointed out.
“Grease monkey, Miss Gollub?” Jilla repeated.
“Oy, I didn’t think that was cute when you were Indiian,” the chemist said.
“I beg your pardon?”
“Never mind, you never do – but I’ll bet my last credit this version of you does,” was the caustic retort. “Pasha doesn’t need your help. He’s a capable scientist all on his own. And I certainly don’t.” She turned back to her lab table, beginning to prepare a testing kit. “Why don’t you go find Del? I’ll bet he needs cooling off by now.”
“I find your lack of military decorum most distressing, Lieutenant,” the Vulcan stated.
“So report me,” Daffy shrugged.
“I believe I will,” Jilla replied and left the lab.
“Green-skinned bitch,” the chemist muttered.
“It is, isn’t it?” Pavel mused, gazing after her. Then he said a quiet “ow” as Daffy’s hand connected with the back of his head.
The precise, military wording of the report Jilla fully intended to make died in her mind as a sudden angry fire invaded it. She stopped in her tracks, closing her eyes. This did not have the same feel that the previous invasion of her Bond had had, but it was similar: there was something that was distressing to her mate. She sent out her tia along the Bond, and received a cool chuckle and a non-verbal I’m being very good right now, farrei, along with a picture of her Indiian self writhing in the throes of ecstasy. She frowned, but cast her senses in another direction, finding the source. It was the thread that had bound her to Selar, and it made no sense that it should still be active when he was deceased –
– then her eyes flew open as she realized it led to Spock. What had been dubbed McCoy’s Miracle Cure had bound her to Sulu, yet it hadn’t erased the tie to the Vulcan which had been created by her coupling with Spock during The Time. Her physiology still reacted to him as mate.
She didn’t take the time to ponder this unprecedented double Bonding. She reacted as a mate should, hurrying to the call that demanded her attention.
Spock stormed through the corridors of the Enterprise, though he was well aware that those not psychically sensitive would only see a brisk pace. He was following the sense of his wife’s taunting laughter, heedless of the fact that it was unlikely he would catch her, and uncertain of exactly what he would do if he did. She is my wife! thundered through his brain, and all the possessive instincts of a Vulcan male were clouding his judgment. The pre-Surakian spirit inherent in all Vulcans fed his thoughts with increasing fear and rage: if she would not acknowledge him at the Time, he would die.
Keheils are healers, he tried to remind himself. Even if she does not acknowledge the Bond, she would be unable to allow you to die when it is in her power to prevent it.
If she is still here, he answered himself.
Panic began keening within him, the same terror that forced males to fight for their chosen mates. The rage that had propelled him to battle with Captain Kirk when T’Pring had denied him. The fever that had taken him when Jilla’s need had called…
“Spock?”
He whirled violently at the sound of his name. The voice was cool and clear, and he had a sudden vision of a distorted shuttlecraft and the knowledge of ice before him.
His eyes focused on the small female figure before him, clearing memory away, and he managed a hoarse rasp of her name.
“I am here,” she said, her tone soft and submissive and deferential. “The fires do not burn, the Time is not now. There is no need for this fear.”
His gaze burned into hers. “She denies she is my wife,” he said, his voice no more than a guttural whisper.
“There is the Human…” Jilla began.
“There is no telepathy there!” he groaned. “No empathy, no gift that will soothe my mind!”
“Yet her mind is known to you, surely that can be a…”
He shook his head mutely, unable to force the logic into his brain. He watched as thoughts moved swiftly through her eyes, then she took a careful breath.
“I am mated to you, Spock,” she said slowly. “If need be, it is my duty to…”
She gasped, falling back a step as a furious assertion pummeled both their minds:
Mine mine mine!!!
Kam pulled harshly away from the Indiian body beneath him. It didn’t matter that he despised the Vulcan’s claim on him. It didn’t matter that he had every intention of doing exactly what he wanted, when he wanted to. It didn’t even matter that a part of him was well aware that the woman he’d just been lavishing his careful attention on was just as much his wife as was the Vulcan. All that did matter was that the Vulcan had just offered herself to Spock
The hawk screeched its claim into the psychic landscape as he bolted out of Sickbay and followed the anger through the corridors, intending to sink his talons into green Vulcan flesh.
Jilla Majiir was curled up on a bed, sobbing hopelessly, clutching a blanket around her obviously naked form when Jim entered Sickbay. The intensity of her sorrow tore at his heart, and he stepped over to her, awkward, but wanting to offer some comfort.
“Mrs. Majiir,” he began, and she turned tear-filled eyes to him.
“Captain, I can bear no more!” she begged. “Please, you can authorize euthanasia, I beg you, please…”
“I can’t do that, Lieutenant,” he offered quietly. “And once we get you back together…”
“It will be too late!” the Indiian cried. “Vulcan drives will force me to live, and I must face Aema!”
“I can’t,” Jim repeated. “That’s not fair to the Vulcan half of you. We have no idea what would happen to her if…”
Jilla let out a shriek of misery and collapsed and Jim swallowed helplessly.
“What’s all the damn racket out here!” McCoy’s gruff voice stated, and Jim turned to face him.
“She wants me to give you the go ahead to euthanize her,” the captain said.
The doctor glanced around the room. “Where’s – the other Mr. Sulu?” he asked.
“I don’t know, Bones. He wasn’t here when I arrived. Isn’t he with you and Dr. Han?”
“We’ve got our hands full with one of him,” was the grim response. McCoy turned, heading back to the isolation rooms and Jim followed.
“What is Sulu’s condition?” he began, and McCoy gestured for him to hold his questions.
“Jade, the boy’s gone,” he said.
Jeremy Paget glanced up from where he sat next to Sulu. “Oh shit!” he groaned. “Doctor, can you…?
”Go!” Jade said. The Hood’s Security Chief muttered an “Excuse me, Captain,” to Jim as he grabbed a sickbay robe and rushed past.
“Just what is going on here?” the captain finally demanded.
Jade, too, held up a silencing finger, then said calmly, and clearly to her patient, “When I count to three, you will slide the shojis closed, Sulu. All your fears and pain will be behind them. You will know of them, but you will ignore them, they will not touch you nor affect you in any way. The shojis will stay closed until I instruct you to open them again. Do you understand me?”
Jim watched as Sulu slowly nodded.
“Close the shojis, Sulu,” Jade continued. “One… two… three.”
Sulu’s body shuddered, then he blinked, glancing up, and got quickly to his feet.
“Captain?” he said.
“Good to see you in a better state of mind, Mr. Sulu,” Jim replied. “Jade, Bones, I’d like a status report.”
“The little one’s talkin’ suicide again,” McCoy told Jade.
The younger doctor sighed. “Sulu, do you feel up to talking with Jilla?”
The dark almonds were troubled. “I don’t know how much good I can do, Doctor,” he said.
“She needs you, son,” McCoy put in. “You do still love you, don’t you?”
Sulu bit his lip. “More than anything,” was the quiet response.
“Then let her feel it. Do her a passle o’ good.”
He clapped Sulu on the shoulder, guiding him out of the isolation room.
Jade stood, briefly stretching her back, and Jim had to stop an appreciative smile from conquering his features. Now was certainly not the time.
“Report, please, doctors,” he said instead.
As he listened to the more than disturbing news, worry began blossoming ever deeper in his being. By the time they had finished, his resolve had strengthened to dylithium.
“We’ve got to fix this,” he stated. “Soon. Now.”
“No argument there, Jim-boy,” McCoy agreed.
“Any news from Engineering?” Jade asked.
“That was my next stop,” the captain said.