Return to Valjiir Stories
Despite the clear telepathic warning, Spock was unprepared for the ferocity of the attack that seemed to come out of thin air. Kam’s lesser mass was nonetheless quite enough to ram his body against the bulkhead, the hand at his throat an arrow of neutronium.
“Challenge, Vulcan,” the cold, hard voice hissed in his ear. “Answer my bitch’s call and it’s the sands of koon-ut-kal-if-fee!”
“Sulu, kroykahI” Jilla shrieked and Kam laughed.
“Not Vulcan, doesn’t work on me,” he spat.
Spock met his gaze, having difficulty talking around the grasp of his larynx.
“It is the – tie of – our mating…” he began.
The grip tightened.
“Break it,” Kam suggested.
“Requires – healer…”
“Find one.”
“Not – easily – done…”
“Do I look like I care?”
The lack of oxygen was greening the Vulcan’s vision, and calling forth memories of the fires of the Time. He heard Jilla gasp, her being responding to his need.
“Don’t do it, farrei,” Kam warned, and in his head, Spock heard, please, oh. please give me a reason to break his neck!
The unadulterated glee in the thought was enough to start his brain working again.
You would joyfully take my life? he gasped in true astonishment.
You had her before I did, was the wicked response. I’ve gotta get something back for that.
Spock’s Surakian sensibilities shuddered, and his mind once again yielded to his control.
“I – do not – answer her,” he forced out. “She is Bonded – to you.”
“She calls you mate again and I’ll kill you before making her chattel,” Kam growled pleasantly. “We understand one another, Breaker of Traditions?”
The meaning of his given name shamed him, and Spock managed to nod assent.
Kam’s hand gave an extra squeeze for good measure, then released its hold. Spock heard running footsteps coming to a sudden halt as his vision cleared. It was only then that he realized his assailant was quite naked.
“Kam, what the hell are you doin’!” the voice of Jeremy Paget thundered.
“Just asserting my rights, right, honey,” Kam answered, the last part of his statement clearly aimed at Jilla.
The Vulcan woman’s head was bowed. “I ask forgiveness, farr’rn,” she whispered, and Spock frowned.
Kam turned back to him.
“Should we set a course for Vulcan now, Commander?” he asked, his voice dark silk.
“Kam…” Paget warned, though his tone was carefully non-confrontational.
“What are you worried about, babe?” Kam chuckled. “The green-skinned sheep isn’t going to do anything rash.” He glanced again at Jilla. “Either of them.”
Spock saw her flush, and his frown deepened.
“Watch it,” Kam spat, and silently added, I know what you’re thinking, Vulcan.
“She is your wife,” Spock said, mustering his dignity. “But what transpired between us will still, at times, govern her behavior.”
“Then you’d both better fine-tune that famous Vulcan control,” Kam told him. He turned, and Jeremy stepped in front of him, handing him the robe he’d been carrying. Kam grinned at him, and slipped it on with unselfconscious grace. Then he walked back the way he had come, calling over his shoulder, “Attend, farrei.”
Head still bowed, Jilla followed.
Paget exhaled slowly. “Your pardon, Mr. Spock,” he said. “Kam’s – well – he doesn’t always play by the rules.” He paused, then added, “Any of ‘em.”
“So I noticed, Mr. Paget,” Spock replied. “In that, he has much in common with my wife.”
“They’re both brats,” the TerAfrican muttered, and Spock silently agreed.
Chekov ran the tests on the soil, the ore and the spores on Theraxa 3 three times. He double-checked with the teams on Theraxa 4 and 5, had them triple-check their tests. He sent the results up to the Enterprise to be confirmed by the Chemistry, Geology and Astrophysics Departments, and had the other teams do likewise with the Hood and the Constitution’s Science labs. He used the medical tricorder to take random samples of the colonists’ blood, checking for the presence of xenoneurophene or any xenoneurophene-like compounds in their systems, and sent those results, too, to Chemistry and Sickbay. When all the data had been validated by all the sources which could possibly corroborate it, he piloted the shuttle back to the Enterprise, ready to make his report to the captain.
He was directed to the main transporter room, and found Captain Kirk, Mr. Scott and Noel DelMonde in the small room. The Chief Engineer was glum, the captain looked grim, and his roommate was swearing at the components of the transporter which were in several piles around him.
“The lass is workin’ on a solvent,” Scott was saying, “but so far, everything we’ve tried is either corrosive to the wirin’ or won’t get the damned ore off of it.”
“Maybe Chekov’s report will give us a better idea on how to proceed,” the captain replied, and Chekov cleared his throat.
“Captain,” he said, “I have the results of the tests here.”
Kirk turned to him. “And?”
“The soil IS contaminated with a compound that interacts with the cellulose in the crops, disrupting the DNA, just as Mr. Spock predicted,” he reported. “The compound seems to originate in the cometary spores. It isn’t xenoneurophene, but it has a related chemical signature that, when exposed to biological by-products of Human habitation, mutates into xenoneurophene. When the same compound is exposed to technological components, it becomes the contaminant that is corrupting our machinery.”
“How in blue blazes does it do that?” Scott wanted to know.
“An’ how we get rid o’ the damned stuff?” DelMonde growled.
“Chemistry on all three ships theorizes that the spores contain some kind of designer biochemical agent,” Chekov replied to Scott, “and I’m certain that is a problem for Engineering,” he added to DelMonde.
“Designer?” Kirk repeated. “Do you mean to tell me that someone deliberately created this compound and planted it in a comet?”
"Geology and Astrophysics are certain it could not have occurred naturally,” Chekov answered dutifully.
“Ach, it’s a wee doomsday device,” Scott muttered.
Kirk stepped to the ship’s intercom. “Mr. Spock, report to the main transporter, on the double,” he said. When he received two acknowledgements, he shrugged ruefully.
“If it all th’ same to you, Captain,” Del said, rising from the piles of transductors and circuitry, “I jus’ go see if Miss Gollub’s come up wit’ anyt’ing new t’ try.”
Kirk nodded, and Scott murmured, “The lad’s been havin’ a wee bit o’ trouble with the Antari, and…”
Kirk held up his hand. “You needn’t say anything more, Scotty.”
“That bein’ the case, I’d suggest you call Mrs. Majiir down here.”
“You mean Takeda,” Jim corrected.
“Aye, I mean the Vulcan, whatever she’s callin’ herself. I imagine the real lassie’s not fit for duty.”
“With all due respect, Mr. Scott,” Chekov interrupted, “as I understand it, they are both the ‘real’ one.” He looked to Kirk. “Are they not, Captain?”
“Seems to be, Mr. Chekov,” Kirk affirmed.
“Well, that may be, but I can tell ye the Vulcan’s not my fair little lass,” Scott grumbled.
Chekov remained silent as Kirk put out a call for the Vulcan version of the Assistant Engineer.
Sulu took deep breaths, trying to maintain the calm the shojis had established as he approached Jilla. Her weeping tore at his heart, carrying none of the bitterness that usually accompanied it. It wasn’t that he didn’t know she was crying for Selar; it just didn’t seem to bother him. He understood it really had nothing at all to do with him in a way that seemed so rational he wondered why he hadn’t looked at it that way before. He still wasn’t sure he would do her any good – after all, she had damned herself for him. What comfort could he give her?
Just my love, he thought sadly, and hoped it would be enough.
He sat on the Sickbay bed beside her, gently smoothing her hair away from ears that were no longer pointed.
“Jilla, hon?” he said tentatively.
She let out a cry and threw herself into his arms. Her emotions slammed into the shojis, making them tremble. He had to close his eyes and hold his breath, focusing on strengthening them again, and Jilla drew away from him.
“Sumin tu, al lina,” she sobbed, asking forgiveness for the disruption of his concentration.
“Just give me a minute,” he rasped. He felt her shuddering against him, reacting to the turmoil within him.
She loves you, she won’t hurt you, he heard his brain saying. Let her help. She always has before.
He nodded acknowledgment to himself and for a moment got caught in wondering if it was really another him he was answering, then shook it away. He pulled the Indiian close to him again.
“I know it hurts, Jilla,” he murmured. “I know you’re scared and empty and cold and I know it will never go away. And I know you want – you need to face Aema, but… honey, I need you too. I need your strength, I need your love, I need you here with me. It won’t last forever…” He felt her start, and went quickly on. “The cold and fear will take you from me someday, but please, Jilla, don’t let it be today. Don’t let it be tomorrow. Just hold on to me a day at a time, and let me hold on to you as long as I can. Selar waits, and when Roshi returns, he’ll have you for all eternity.” Tears filled his eyes, but he forced a smile. “Let me have you until then, okay? I love you, and I’m so sorry I did this to you, but I need you… I need you…”
He swallowed, his own fear again threatening. He felt Jilla’s arms tightening around him, heard her voice whispering over and over “sumin tu, sumin tu…” and he sobbed.
“Tell me you love me!” he managed, his voice a hoarse plea.
The tears slid down his cheeks when she rasped, “Celletyea, D’Artagnan.”
The time – so recently – he had disregarded that desperate signal burned in him, and he ignored the voice that pointed out this wasn’t exactly a proper time or place as well as the one that pushed at the shojis. He laid her back on the bed, removing his uniform, and did as she had begged him to do.
Kam made his Vulcan wife ask for permission to answer the captain’s call, reveling both in her discomfort and the fact that there wasn’t a damn thing she could do about it. He’d heard her mental protest that she was a Starfleet officer and on duty, and he replied with the comment that some things – like a Bond – transcended the discipline of Fleet. He gave her cute little behind an appreciative swat when she turned to leave, enjoying that she jumped a little, and the tips of her ears greened.
He was sauntering back to Sickbay when Jeremy Paget caught up to him.
“Hey, babe, what was that all about?” the TerAfrican asked Kam noted his voice was carefully neutral.
“Respectable Vulcans interfering with a Bond,” Kam replied, then chuckled. “So much for honor, huh?”
“The situation is a little tenuous,” Paget demurred.
“Not by me,” was Kam’s response. “How’s Mr. Pathetique?”
He noted Jeremy’s frown. “We’ve got the shojis up, so he’s coping,” the Security Officer answered.
“Shojis,” Kam muttered. “I hate those things.”
Jeremy didn’t answer – at least not out loud. Kam heard his thoughts – well, no surprise since they’re usually used to lock you away,and turned to face the taller man.
“Which is as inconvenient for you as it is for me,” he said.
“Not really,” Paget murmured.
“Liar,” Kam snapped.
“You think me beamin’ up and missin’ would be convenient for me?” Jeremy retorted.
Kam grinned. “Well, okay, there is that. Speaking of which, I’ve still got a job to do with – “ His voice cut off as he became aware of what his alter was doing in Sickbay. His eyes darkened.
“Today must be try-to-take-what-belongs-to-Kam day,” he growled and quickened his pace to Sickbay.
“Wait,” Jeremy called, rushing up to get in front of him. “Give a poor mind-blind soul a break. What are you talkin’ about?”
Kam frowned at him. “You may be mind-blind, Jer, but you’re not stupid. With the damn shojis, the basket-case is gonna try and keep my little one alive.”
“And what’s wrong with that? She’s his wife, too,” Paget pointed out.
“Yeah? The bond’s to me, Cobra. The chemical emotional tie is to me. Mr. Pathetique’s not the empath.”
“He must have been, or Cal wouldn’t’ve caught him…” Jeremy began, then bit off the rest of what he was going to say.
Kam’s eyes narrowed. “You think he’s the original?” he asked, his voice hard. “You think I’m something he created to save himself from the sick bastard’s mind-fucks?”
“The thought had occurred to me, babe,” the TerAfrican acknowledged quietly.
Kam snorted. “Go back to shrink school,” he advised. “And get the fuck out of my way.”
He pushed past Paget, and moved quickly to Sickbay.
Daffy Gollub had several new solvents to try, and Del took samples of them back to the engineering worklabs to test them on sample components that had been contaminated by the ore. He’d tried three of them with little success when he became aware of Captain Kirk entering the room.
“Report, Lieutenant."
"I not makin’ enough headway to say not’ing about, Captain," the Cajun reported, pushing away from his worktable with a weary sigh. "But as long as you down here, they is somet’ing I best get off my chest ‘fore that point-ear bastard come raisin’ hell to you..."
Kirk cleared his throat reprovingly. "Lieutenant..."
"Sorry," DelMonde apologized perfunctorily. "In case the Vulcan half o’ Spock files some kind o’ trumped-up charges on me, you oughtta know he been objectin’ right powerfully to th’ way th’ Antari half of his wife been lookin’ at me..."
The captain's cheeks colored a little with the memory of his own recent, close encounters with Antari-Ruth. "Yes, well..."
"I do mean object to th’ tune of bustin’ into my quarters, pickin’ me up by the scruff o’ my neck, tossin’ me ’round like a ragdoll, then threatenin’ to demote me t’ corpse if she so much as winks in my general direction again," the engineer continued heatedly. "An’ me not done so much as laid a finger on her flighty gold ass."
"I'm sure you didn't, Lieutenant," Kirk replied, although he could hear the small tone of doubt that sounded in his answer despite his best efforts.
The Cajun raised his shoulders in a gesture that was equal parts annoyed and guilty. "Mais, if a gal gonna pop in on you while you buck-ass naked, they gonna be some limits on how much of a saint a man gonna be able t’ be..."
"Lieutenant," Kirk raised a weary hand to silence him. "I understand. Believe me, I understand. Completely."
DelMonde tilted his head to one side. "You do," he said as if fairly surprised. "You do.... Completely."
Kirk hastily tried to school his thoughts, but it was as if the unexpurgated story of Alpha Metaxa III seeped out of his brain like water onto a dry sponge.
The engineer's mouth folded into a forbiddingly possessive frown. "Motherfucker," he muttered, purely as an expression of surprise.
"Lieutenant," the captain began sternly.
"Sorry, sir," DelMonde replied. "None o’ my business... but, damn, that girl do get around..."
"Lieutenant." Kirk crossed his arms. "I believe this the sort of situation where Lieutenant Valley would advise, ‘Shield, Del, shield!’”
"Yes, sir," the engineer acknowledged dutifully turning back to his work. "Most definitely, sir."
The captain was not quite out of earshot before the Cajun muttered, "An’ if they was ever a time that bratty ass was in the need of a good spankin’..."
"Lieutenant."
"Shieldin', sir. Shieldin'."
It was good, it was sating, and Jilla’s anguish was melting under the adoration Sulu felt. She knew it was wrong, she knew she should turn away from him, from the life and being that radiated from him – but with him filling her, both physically and emotionally, the thought died before it was fully formed. It was so different than what – she couldn’t quite bring herself to recognize the person everyone else called ‘Kam’ as other – he had given before. That had been an almost callous demand that she live. This was a plea and a promise; it made her want to live, not just accept that she must.
He whispered to her as freely as before, but with tender devotion, not crude, amused expletives. Yet this gentle act was every bit as consuming as had been the far harsher coupling. She soared with him, the wings of pleasure dove-like, not those of a screeching, triumphant raptor. There was no taunting call of ‘mine mine mine.’ Instead his emotions said to her ‘yours yours yours,’ and her tears were those of joy, not despair.
Until her peace was shattered by a laughing voice that said, “Nice form, gorgeous, but Kam’s got you beat for sheer power.”
Jilla went nova, pulling away from Sulu’s arms.
“Damn it, Ruth!” he shouted, and the Antari was abruptly perched on the bed, her long hair sweeping over his back and Jilla’s turning body.
“Did I break your rhythm?” she asked, then shrugged. “Sorry.” But there was no sense of remorse in her.
“What do you want?” Sulu said tightly.
“I’m just checking on the welfare of my friends,” she replied. “And I thought it might be nice to warn you that your alter is about to race in here looking for your head.” She giggled, and added, “Knowing him, both of them.” She glanced up as the door to Sickbay opened. “And here he is now.”
Sulu’s eyes closed, and Jilla felt the rice-paper walls within him start to tear.
“Stop it,” she begged. “You’re hurting him.”
”Not my fault if he can’t hold his own,” the Antari commented. “Hey, handsome. Want to get a group thing going?”
Jilla shuddered at the intensity that flowed to her as the Sulu who was not naked beside her moved closer.
“I think it’ll have to be a threesome, honey,” he said. “The basket case is about to blow in… three… two… one…”
Sulu cried out, toppling from the bed as his hands came up to his ears.
“No more, no more, please, shut up, just shut up!” he screamed.
“You’re good at that,” ani Ramy said admiringly.
“Timing is everything, baby,” was the other Sulu’s wicked response.
Jilla gasped, fresh tears beginning in her eyes, and the door to the doctors’ offices opened, both Jade Han and Leonard McCoy rushing in at Sulu’s cry.
“Lord God Almighty!” McCoy shouted.
“Kamikaze, must you?” Jade added, her tone clearly relaying all the exasperation that poured from her tia.
“Yes, doctor, I must, I really must,” he answered, grinning fiercely.
“Well, my work here is done,” ani Ramy said, hopping off the bed.
“Aw, did you interrupt them just for me?” the one Jade called Kamikaze asked.
The Antari nodded happily. “Do I get a prize?”
“Come over here and see,” he taunted.
“Don’t do it, Spike,” Jeremy Paget’s voice said, his emotions stern, fearful, angry and aggrieved all at once.
“Why not?” ani Ramy wanted to know.
“Jilla’s your best friend for one, you’re married for two, and so is he for three,” Paget responded.
She scowled at him. “I’m really sick of that, you know,” she told him, then fluttered her eyelashes at him. “But you really should get some credit. After all, two out of three ain’t bad.”
Jeremy stiffened, and the Sulu who wasn’t weeping in terror burst into appreciative laughter. Faintly, Jilla heard music and Ruth’s voice singing: I want you, I need you, but there ain’t no way I’m ever gonna love you…
Understanding rushed to the Indiian’s heart, and she gasped out, “Ruth, that is cruel”
“And here I thought Indiians were all into brutal honesty,” she murmured. Then, with a parting wink at Sulu, she vanished.
McCoy was kneeling next to the panicked Sulu. “Come on son,” he said. “Let’s get them whachamacallits shored up again.” He glared at the standing Sulu in passing, who made a tsking sound with his tongue.
“There was no need for this, Kam,” Jade said as she gently pulled the blankets over Jilla’s naked body.
“When people try to take what’s mine, I think there is,” he retorted.
“She’s his, too,” was the cold response.
“I did mention that, babe,” Paget put in.
Kam turned to Jilla. “Is that so, honey?” he asked. “Do you belong to anyone but me?”
Both his demand and the recent adoration flooded her senses, and Jilla shuddered. It wasn’t true, could not be true as long as Selar waited at Court, but she couldn’t make herself say it. She shook her head miserably.
“See?” Kam said, folding his arms in satisfaction.
“Mr. Paget, do something with him!” Jade snapped.
As he chuckled a “Yeah, babe, do something with me,” Jilla again began weeping hopelessly.
“I’ve got it, I’ve got it!”
“What is it you have, Miss Gollub?”
Daffy whirled at Spock’s voice. She hadn’t heard him enter the Chemistry Lab – then she did hear a low snarl and realized that at some point DelMonde had entered, too.
“Oy,” she muttered, then took a deep breath. “I’ve found a solvent that works on the blue goo without rotting the wiring or corroding the casings.”
“I jus’ ‘bout to tell ya the las‘ batch a bust,” Del muttered.
“That is excellent news, Miss Gollub,” Spock replied, ignoring the Cajun. “If you will provide me with a sample, I can confirm your tests with Geology and Astrophysics.”
DelMonde remained silent as Daffy prepared a vial for Spock. The Vulcan left the lab and Del exhaled.
“Shee-it, I hate that motherfucker,” he said to Daffy.
“You and me both,” ani Ramy returned as she popped into the room out of nothingness. “But now that he’s gone…” She moved seductively forward, tossing her hair over her shoulder. To Daffy’s consternation, it stayed floating in the air around her shoulders.
“Is that stuff waving at me?” she growled.
The Antari shrugged. “I don’t know why it would be, with the oh-so deliciousness in front of me.” She gave Del a devastating smile, and he swallowed hard, and backed away.
“Your Vulcan husband done threatened to put me six feet under, cher,” he told her. “An’ as I find I like walkin’ an’ talkin’ an’ breathin’, you jus’ keep a good distance.”
Ani Ramy pouted. “You didn’t really take him seriously, did you?” she asked. “He’s a pacifist”
“Not when it comes to his wife,” Daffy interjected, and Del gave her a grateful look.
“I can protect you, you know,” the Antari breathed, and moved even closer.
“Raw-eth… please…” Del swallowed.
“I’ve always loved that you pronounce my name correctly, do you know that?” she continued, as did her advance.
“Cher…”
“Sweet honey angel, sugar, darlin’…” she whispered.
Mary Mother o’ God, give me strength…
The Zehara’s stronger, Del…
With a sharp gasp, Del turned and fled, but not before he made a grab for a vial of Daffy’s newest compound.
“You,” Daffy declared, “are rivaling your cousin for the title of Galaxy’s Biggest Putz, you know that, right?”
Ani Ramy glared at her. “Cow,” she said.
“Bitch,” Daffy replied automatically.
“Jealous.”
“Pavel doesn’t run from me,” was the smart retort.
“Much,” the Antari answered, baring her teeth.
“But he always comes back,” the chemist said smugly.
“So will Del,” ani Ramy promised. “So will Del.”
Del took the new solvent to his workstation and ran a few preliminary tests. When the spare parts he had contaminated didn’t fry or corrode, he got one of the actual pieces from the transporter and used the solvent again. When that trial, too, was a success, he assembled a mini-transducer and connected it to a power source. It ran perfectly. His heart racing, he began assembling a larger component.
“Hey, Del, can I help?”
He whirled at the too-familiar voice. “I not tell you t’…” he began, then his eyes registered the shorter, darker blonde hair, the brown, Terran-sized eyes and the blue uniform. “Oh,” he said, taking a breath. “Sorry, cher, I thought you was…”
“The brat?” Ruth Valley guessed, then gave a weary grin. “She’s been ruining my friendships all over the ship,” she said.
“We still friends, huh?” the Cajun muttered.
“Well, I hope so,” she answered softly. “Winter, Spring, Summer or Fall?”
His face twisted into a lop-sided grin, remembering when she’d sung the song to him. “Merci, darlin’,” he said.
“So, can I help?” she repeated.
“Yeah,” he replied, and held out the mini-transducer. “You take this an’ run biological tests an’ see if the solvent neutralizes the loony juice.”
“You’ve made a breakthrough?” Ruth asked cautiously.
“Mais, Daffy has…” He paused as her hesitation pulsed through him. “You not want it?” he questioned.
“It’s not that, exactly…”
Del frowned at her. “Yeah, it is,” he stated.
“It’s just that – I don’t mean to hurt you, Del, but – Spock – the Human Spock and I are so happy…” She flushed.
“Happier than you been?” he said, trying to keep his voice neutrally interested. When she nodded, he had to swallow. “So… if me an’ her… if she got away from the Vulcan… you not…”
“I’d be happy for you, Del,” Ruth answered.
They stood staring at each other for a long time, then Ruth flushed again. “Well, I’ll get those tests started.”
“I gonna take this to th’ transporter an’ see if I can get the mechanism workin’,” Del returned.
“Then I guess we’ll see….”
“I guess we will, cher.”
There was another pause, then Ruth quietly sang, “All you’ve got to do is call …”
“An’ I be there, yes I will,” Del sang back.
Ruth smiled as they both finished, “You’ve got a friend.”
Ruth’s Human husband was waiting for her in the biotech labs. “Pavel has uncovered a great deal of useful information,” he began. “The Captain wants to run some simulations. The Vulcan went to Chemistry to check on Daffy’s progress and…”
“She’s got a solvent that removes the contamination without destroying the circuitry or the casings,” Ruth interrupted. “Del just tested it on this transducer and he wants us to run the biological tests.”
Spock grinned at her. “I love it when we mesh like this,” he said, then a small frown touched his lips. “But I doubt if Mr. DelMonde actually wants us to…”
“No, Spock, I think he’s okay with – us. He’s more drawn to the Antari part,” Ruth answered.
Spock came close to her. “Does that hurt you, beloved?”
She shook her head. “No – well, only a little,” she corrected ruefully. “I always knew it was my gifts that drew him.”
“I love you just the way you are – then and now,” he replied softly, and reached up, gently caressing her face.
She leaned into his hand, sighing, then straightened. “Spock, if this works…”
“I know, beloved, but there are many stages of testing to be successfully accomplished before we can even think of reversing what happened.”
“And maybe they won’t all be successful?” she added hopefully.
“If I say ‘one can always dream’ would that be too pessimistic?”
Ruth grinned. “Not by me.” Then her smile disappeared. “But that’s so selfish. What about Sulu and Jilla?”
Spock nodded. “It does seem that their splits are not as comfortable as ours,” he agreed.
“If the Antari’s a brat, Kam is…”
“A very dangerous, dangerously gifted individual,” Spock finished. “And while the Vulcan half of Jilla seems to function well…”
“Her purely Indiian half is just a suicide waiting to happen,” Ruth said. “And poor Roy….” She shuddered. “I don’t even want to think about the nightmare he’s going through.”
Spock took the transducer, placing it on the worktable, then taking Ruth’s hands. “My love, can we forgo this happiness for the sake of our friends?”
“Well… we were happy before…” she offered.
“And with the memory of this time to aid us…”
“Assuming we remember it.”
“And if we do not, we will be as happy as we were before, yes?”
There were tears in Ruth’s eyes, and she swallowed before answering. “I hate logic,” she managed.
Spock sighed, taking her into his arms. “And I’m beginning to see why,” he said, and kissed the top of her head. They stood there for a long time, then Ruth pulled away, wiping the tears from her cheeks.
“Well, we’d better get to work, husband of mine.”
But Spock stood, staring off into space.
“Spock?” Ruth questioned worriedly.
“A thought just occurred to me,” he said. “If Jilla is a suicide waiting to happen, and Sulu is only precariously sane – what would happen if…”
Ruth gasped. The picture of a forever encased-in-ice Jilla and a demonic Sulu being the only parts left of her friends floated in her mind.
“No, that can’t happen!” she cried.
“But if it should – if we lose them…”
Ruth stared at Spock, their eyes containing the same idea: the thought that if Sulu and Jilla couldn’t be reintegrated due to the deaths of one half of them, maybe the procedure wouldn’t work on her and Spock, that it would require all eight of them because the original split was with four transporter patterns. She chastised herself for the flare of hope, blushing furiously.
“I know,” Spock murmured, his own shame evident in his voice. “But surely, my wife, it will not come to that.”
“Surely,” she responded, and they both turned to the work at hand, each lost in their uneasy thoughts.
Jilla Takeda frowned slightly as her chief muttered Scottish epithets under his breath. She didn’t understand the reason for his verbalizations. There was nothing in Pavel Chekov’s report that significantly altered the engineering problem. They still needed to find a way to clean the components and repair the transporter, regardless of the origins of the toxin that was affecting the components. While she certainly understood that the various Science laboratories would need the information, until they came up with a solution, there was little for engineers to do.
She was about to remind Scott of this – for the fourth time – when the transporter room door opened, and Noel DelMonde came in with a fully assembled transducer.
“We got it, Scotty,” he said triumphantly. He placed the component on the deck and held up a small vial and a cleaning cloth. “Daffy found us a solvent that works.”
“Thank the good lord!” Scott said fervently. “Is there enough in that wee little bottle to do the job?”
“I t’ink so,” DelMonde replied. “I only use a teeny li’l bit on this whole t’ing, plus put together a mini-version t’ test it on.”
“Ach, then, let’s get to work!” Scott enthused. “I’ll take the circuitry, Noel, ye start on the processors, Jilla, lass, work on the relays.”
“This solvent has been examined and found effective?” Jilla questioned.
The Cajun engineer made a face at her. “I done said I tested it, non?”
“You said you completed a miniature to test,” she replied, “not that you did test it, nor that the test was successful.”
He scowled. “Mais, I did, an’ it was, so…”
“Lassie, Noel’d not bring us a solvent that he hadna verified,” Scott put in reprovingly.
“And the Science labs have verified that the solvent will also clear the xenoneurophene-like infection of…” Jilla continued.
“We waitin’ on that,” DelMonde muttered.
“Then I submit it is illogical to begin work if we will only be required to re-clean everything if this solvent proves…”
“Lass, then perhaps it’s best if you run along down to Sciences an’ make sure of that,” Scott interrupted her. “Noel an’ I’ll just start cleanin’. We won’t put anything together till we get the word.” He beamed at her. “How’s that?”
The Vulcan suppressed her sigh. “Very well, Mr. Scott,” she said, and left the transporter room.
When the door closed behind her, Scott let out his own heartfelt sigh. “Ach, Noel, she’s enough to drive a man t’ drink.”
Del grinned at his chief. “Not that we need a lotta incentive fo’ that.”
Scotty returned the expression. “Aye, lad, an’ that’s the truth of it. But that – Vulcan…”
“It all Vulcans, Scotty,” Del affirmed.
“Spock was a lot easier t’ deal with when he was half Human, I’ll give ye that,” the Chief engineer agreed. “But come on, lad. Let’s have these parts nice an’ clean when she gets back.”
“An’ the temperature drop again,” the Cajun finished.
Ruth ani Ramy waited until one of the biochemists turned away from his microscope. She suppressed a giggle as she tweaked the results in the mechanism, then vanished again. When the lieutenant returned, after having scanned the results into the computer, she materialized again, long enough to play with the readings stored in the memory banks, then made another teleporting leap to the laboratory door, leaning against it, absently picking at her nails.
“You have decided to apply your considerable talents to something productive, my wife?” Spock’s voice said from behind her.
She turned her head, smiling alluringly at him. “Just checking in,” she said. “And I’m not your wife.”
His eyebrow rose. “Indeed? Then perhaps you can explain why you are creating pheromones designed to attract my attention.”
“That’s just natural for me,” she quipped. “Not that I’d be adverse to a little recreational sex.” She batted her eyelashes at him.
“Vulcans do not engage in recreational sex,” was his stern response.
“Which is one of the many, many reasons I’m not your wife,” she returned.
“You are,” the Vulcan stated. “And as such, I would speak to you regarding your behavior with Mr. DelMonde.”
“Oh, there hasn’t been any behavior,” she answered, then gave a sultry smile. “Yet.”
“Ruth, I will not tolerate…”
“Mr. Spock, the solvent works!” the technician called excitedly from the microscope.
“We will discuss this later, my wife,” Spock said, and with another uncompromising glance at her, he crossed the room. Ani Ramy could hear him already double-checking the results in his head, and she giggled again. Then she blew a kiss to the lieutenant, who blushed, and vanished once again.
Sulu was taking deep, even breaths when Jade entered McCoy’s office.
“He’s doing better,” McCoy said, and gave his patient an encouraging smile.
“No thanks to Kam,” Jade replied, then sat down, facing Sulu. “The shojis don’t hold up very long,” she said to him. “I think we need to get at the cause of your difficulty if we’re to have any long-term success.”
“Are we gonna need long term success?” McCoy questioned quietly.
“We’ll definitely need to keep him functional as long as the situation lasts,” Jade demurred.
McCoy grunted.
“Doctor, I can’t…” Sulu began, then shuddered. “It’s hard enough trying not to hear it behind the shojis. I can’t…”
“He’s pathetic,” Kam said from the doorway.
Jade turned, her dark eyes blazing. “Get out!” she snapped.
“If you want to know what the poor thing’s hearing all day every day, why don’t you ask me?”
The doctor regarded him skeptically. “And would you tell me the truth if I did?”
Kam chuckled. “Dear Jade, I always tell the truth. Sometimes more, but never less.”
“I don’t think we need your ‘more,’ Kam,” she retorted.
He shrugged. “Suit yourself. But he’s not gonna hold it together without it.”
“We’ll see about that,” Jade muttered as the young man sauntered away from the door.
“He’s right.” Sulu’s voice reclaimed her attention.
“Now, don’t you go sellin’ yourself short, son…” McCoy began.
“I can’t deal without him,” Sulu whispered. “I – I don’t know what he does, but… Without him, it – god, Jade, it tears at me…” He inhaled sharply, his eyes closing as a spasm of pain crossed his face.
“Sulu, if you’ll just talk about what you’re hearing, if you can face it…” Jade began.
“That’s the problem,” Jeremy Paget’s weary voice said, and Jade turned again to the doorway.
“Aren’t you supposed to be keeping an eye on Kam?” she asked sharply.
The TerAfrican made a face. “He’s ‘helping’ Jilla again,” he said.
“Damn, that boy works fast,” McCoy muttered.
“Yeah,” Paget returned. Then he took a breath. “Sulu can’t face it,” he said. “If he could have, Kam wouldn’t even be here. There. Inside. Whatever.”
“Which is my point,” Jade countered. “We need to help him face it, or Kam will always be a problem.”
“And just maybe Kam is all that keeps him from going catatonic or suicidal,” Jeremy contradicted.
“Maybe now, yes, but…”
“You don’t know!” Sulu hissed. “You don’t understand, any of you! It isn’t just the memory, it’s…” He gasped, his hands going to his ears. “Oh god, make it stop!” he cried.
“Jade, he wants to listen,” Jeremy said heavily. “He wants to do what Cal tells him to.” He glanced at Sulu, the anguish naked on his face. “That’s what’s killin’ him.”
“I can’t believe Kam keeps him from…” McCoy began.
“Kam doesn’t,” Paget said. “Not as such.” He rubbed his hands over his face. “But Kam won’t do anything someone else tells him to do. It’s Cal’s control Kam can resist. Sulu doesn’t have the strength. His empathy is too raw.”
Jade frowned. “Mr. Paget, all the tests show…”
“Yeah, that he’s got natural shielding a mile thick,” the TerAfrican interrupted. “But I think that natural shielding is Kam. We don’t have any testing done before Cal got a hold of him.”
“You sound awfully knowledgeable about this,” Jade commented.
Jeremy shrugged. “He’s my best friend. I studied up on it.”
“You know, we shouldn’t be dicussin’ the boy like he wasn’t sittin’ right here,” McCoy put in.
Jade glanced at Sulu, who was hugging himself tightly, rocking back and forth on his chair.
“It’s all right, Leonard,” she said. “I don’t think he can hear us.”
By the time Sciences gave the all-clear for a reassembly of the transporter, Del and Scotty had it more than half-way finished. Jilla Takeda frowned at them, reminding them that they had told her they would only clean the parts. Del gave her a shrug and a definitely non-apologetic grin, and Scott explained that he trusted both Daffy Gollub’s expertise and Del’s intuition. Jilla replied with a pointed lecture on how those in authority should not utter falsehoods to their assistants, then helped with the completion of the work.
When it was all done, Scott wiped his hands on the cleaning cloths he and Del had been using, then declared. “Now, lad, how d’ye suggest we test her?”
“The logical course would be for one of the split officers to attempt a rejoining,” Jilla replied.
Since when you a ‘lad’?” Del asked, then ran his hands over his hair. “We gotta have someone wit’ th’ blue loony juice in ‘em,” he mused, and before Jilla could ask, he added, “Xenoneurophene.”
“Aye, and we should have someone without it for a control,” Scott agreed. He squared his shoulders. “I’ll go first. Lass, if you’ll do the honors?”
When the Vulcan looked blank, Del said, “He mean you handle th’ controls,’ then muttered, “She worse'an th’ real one.”
“I am the real one, Mr. DelMonde,” Jilla replied. “As much as my Indiian half is.” She took her place behind the console. “Ready, Mr.Scott,” she said.
“Wish me luck, lad,” Scott said, and stepped onto the transporter pad. “We’ll do this in stages,” he stated. “First, beam me over to th’ Hood. We’ll not want to be muckin’ up the data with a new set of contaminants from the planet.”
Del moved to the communications unit and called the other ship, informing them of what they were doing. Greg Halloran sounded both relieved and excited that there might be a way to fix the transporters, and Captain Aronson heartily agreed.
“Energize,” Scott ordered, and Del held his breath as the Chief Engineer dematerialized. After a moment, Halloran reported.
“Mr. Scott is here, fine, whole, and there’s only one of him.” The smile in his voice was plain.
“Okay, Greg, we recall him now,” Del said, and nodded at Jilla.
The machinery again hummed, and Scott reappeared. He glanced around him, then grinned broadly.
“First test successful,” he said, and moved off the platform. “Your turn, lad.”
“The Captain should be informed,” Jilla pointed out.
Scott shook his head ruefully. “Aye, lassie, you’re right.” He thumbed the comm control, and said, “Captain Kirk to the transporter room. I think we’ve got good news for ye.”
Del tried not to fidget as they waited for Kirk’s arrival. All he could think of was the double pull within him – that things would be back to normal, with the Antari brat no longer screwing with him and the Vulcan no longer threatening his life – but things would be back to normal, with no hope of ever being with Ruth again. He tried to bolster the positive, reminding himself that the Divine Wind would be back where he belonged, and little Jilla would no longer be split between ice and suicide – but the Antari’s words kept replaying in his head: “She was the one who fell in love with him. I’m the one who still loves you… Who you still love.”
He heard Scotty filling Kirk in when the captain arrived – with Spock in tow. He wasn’t surprised when the Human version and his Human wife arrived moments later. He also expected Kam’s entrance, the black eyes gleaming with taunting amusement.
“Since this is the critical test,” the Vulcan Spock said, “might I suggest that we do not actually beam Mr. DelMonde anywhere? It would be safest to simply de- then rematerialize him. If something untoward does happen, we would not be exposing the Hood or the Constitution to any repercussions.”
“Good thinking, Spock,” Kirk said, then glanced at Del. “Are you ready, Mr. DelMonde?”
“As I ever be,” the Cajun returned, and steeled himself.
“Then let’s get this show on the road.”
Jilla looked puzzled, and it was the Vulcan Spock who explained, very gently, “Energize, Mrs. Takeda.”
Del took a deep breath as the transporter beam took hold.
When two bodies rematerialized, Ruth screamed. Her Human husband was immediately at her side, his arms protectively around her.
“What is it, beloved?” he whispered.
“It can’t be, oh God, it can’t be!” she gasped.
“Ruth…”
Power unlike any she had ever felt – except from the Zehara Herself – pulsed inside Ruth’s head. She could barely breathe for the monumental pressure emanating from the two men on the transporter. The conflict was immense, one radiating an empathy far greater than her own, even when she wasn’t split, the other carrying a deep, blue-black, endless well of telepathy. The empathic one was telepathic too, but it faded into insignificance next to the sheer power of the other.
“I didn’t know...” she found herself moaning. “Oh God, I didn’t know…!”
“Ruth, I can’t feel it,” Spock was murmuring. “Is there something…?”
“He’ll crush us all!” she whispered, then shuddered and hid her face against his chest.
“Jesus Christ…” Jim Kirk muttered, then turned to the Vulcan Spock. “I thought you said all the tests ran clean!”
The Vulcan was frowning. “They did, Captain,” he said. “I am at a loss to explain it.”
“April Fools,” Kam chuckled, and all eyes turned to him. He held up his hands, a wicked grin on his face. “Don’t blame me,” he stated. “I wasn’t near the Sciences Labs.”
The Vulcan Spock’s eyebrows lowered, making his expression fierce instead of puzzled. “Wife!” he called stridently.
A giggle floated through every mind present, but ani Ramy did not materialize.
“Ohgodohgodohgodohgod…” Ruth whimpered.
“Tell me,” the Human Spock said, his tone both gentle and urgent.
“Can’t you tell?” she moaned. “For the love of God, look at them!”
The two figures on the transporter pads were both clearly Noel DelMonde – yet were just as clearly different. One seemed to shimmer, almost Indiian-like, but it was a warm, golden aura that complimented the darker, café au lait color of his skin. His eyes were a deep, soft brown, his hair long, almost in dreadlocks. The other ---
Ruth shivered. The familiar features were hard, diamond-cold, accented by the glittering black intelligence of his eyes. His posture was deceptively casual, not at all like the upright openness of his twin, seemingly as bathed in shadow as the other was in light. He glanced around the room disdainfully, then gave a short, snorting laugh.
“Free at last, free at last, thank God almighty, I’m free at last,” Kam murmured.
“A pleasure to see you, mon ami,” the dark DelMonde said, then his eyes fastened on Ruth. “An’ you cher.” Then he frowned. “But you not th’ interesting one. Where is she?”
“Don’t do it,” the light Del said softly. “It gonna end badly, you know that.”
His dark half ignored him. “I do have a bone t’ pick wit’ you, Vulcan,” he told Spock.
“Captain, I suggest we confine these two men immediately,” the Vulcan replied.
“He must think you’re dangerous,” Kam offered.
The dark DelMonde again gave his snorting laugh. “Must be,” he agreed.
“All right, that’s enough,” Kirk said. “Mr. DelMonde – both of you – if you will please come with me?”
“O’ course, Captain,” the light Del answered, then shot a glance at his darker half. “Don’t do it,” he warned again.
“You gonna stop me?” the dark version taunted.
“I got more power than you t’ink, remember that,” was the enigmatic answer.
“Ah, but will you use it?” Kam put in, then laughed. “Like you used it at the Clave?”
There was an intensity that built up between both Dels and Kam, only to be disrupted when Ruth cried out and fainted into the Human Spock’s arms.
“To Sickbay,” Kirk ordered. “Now.”