originally published as "Opera"
Return to Valjiir Stories
Sulu scanned the crowd anxiously, looking among the dozens of red uniforms for the one that contained Jeremy Paget. He kept one arm firmly around Jilla’s waist so I won’t be tempted to throw both of them around Jeremy, he thought ruefully. God, it’s been a long time. They exchanged tapes frequently, but Fleet life being what it was, they hadn’t seen each other in nearly eighteen months. And haven’t touched in longer than that. He shivered, then glanced at Jilla. She seemed to be oblivious to the rush that had just gone through him, but he knew that wasn’t possible. She was, like she had in the transporter room, ignoring it. Damn lucky man, he reiterated.
“Sulu!”
He looked toward the joyous shout and despite his good intentions, let go of Jilla and took several racing steps toward his childhood friend.
Jeremy Paget, two years younger than Sulu, had grown up down the street from him. It was Sulu who had introduced him to needle racing. And Starfleet aspirations. And – other things. His grin widened at the memories. Ah, sweet Kam, dear LeRoi. He spotted Sulu before Sulu saw him, mostly by looking for the glow of Indiian skin. The Lieutenant Commander’s lady would be with him, Jeremy knew, and so quelled his first impulse to race into Sulu’s arms and instead yelled his name. He was surprised when he was nearly bowled over by Sulu’s impetuous, emotion-charged hug.
“Jer, god, it’s so good to see you!” was whispered fiercely, delightedly in his ear.
In a better mood than last time, Jeremy thought. And, of course, he knew why. She was standing just a foot or two away from him. The last time they’d seen each other, Sulu had been desperately in love and certain he’d never have his ‘little one.’ Just goes to show you never know how things will turn out, Jeremy sighed wistfully, and returned Sulu’s embrace.
“Good to see you too, babe,” he said, Sulu pulled away and for a moment, Jeremy was certain it was reluctantly. No, Jer, that’s just what you want it to be. They smiled at each other for several long moments, then Sulu held out a hand.
“Come here, hon,” he said.
Jilla tensed at the emotions playing so freely between Sulu and Jeremy Paget. She knew he didn’t understand her distaste and she couldn’t explain without bringing up things which were better left alone. How could she tell him that she could clearly identify what he felt toward the tall, black man – and what the tall black man returned – but could not comprehend that emotion being shared between two males? And yet, still feel the jealousy over it – jealousy she had no right to feel? And the shame for her sin that came with that jealousy? She did not want to feel any of it, but it was quite beyond her ability to stop being a sensitive, as she had told Ruth many times. And it was equally beyond any wish that she should cause Sulu discomfort. So she forced herself to smile and come to his outstretched hand.
“Jilla,” Sulu said, “this is Jeremy Paget. Jer, my – “ he paused and Jilla battled a flush.
“Little one,” Jeremy supplied, and Sulu grinned. “Glad to finally meet you, Lady. You’re all he’s talked about for years.”
“He speaks often of you also,” she replied. Jeremy’s tia was a blend of sorrow and pleasure and she understood. You are his friend indeed, she thought.
“You were right,” Jeremy said as his attention once again turned to Sulu. “She’s gorgeous.”
“I pick the best,” Sulu said proudly.
Jilla sighed tremulously and tried not to react to the emotion within him that added clearly to Mr. Paget, like you.
“Leonard.”
McCoy glanced up at Natira’s soft voice. He smiled at the sight of his robe-clad wife and rolled over in bed to sit up. She handed him a glass of wine.
“You don’t have to serve me, Natira,” he said, taking the glass.
“It pleases me to do so,” she returned, then sat on the edge of the bed. Her long fingers reached out to gently stroke his cheek. “I have missed you, husband.”
He caught her hand, kissing it. “I’ve missed you, too.”
They gazed thoughtfully into each other’s eyes for a few moments. When she spoke again her voice was gently resigned. “It is unfortunate our worlds are so far apart.”
He wanted to tell her that it didn’t have to be that way, but they understood each other to well, were too honest with each other for that. They had separate lives to lead, at least for the present. Someday it will be different, he hoped, but right now, a part-time marriage was all he was able to handle. Before he met Natira he hadn’t even thought he was capable of that. Her understanding, accepting, quiet love had changed him, and he loved her. “Thank you for coming here.”
“My pleasure, Leonard. I did not know that you had anything like Yonada in the Federation.”
He put down his glass. “You know, I’ve never thought about it, but Headquarters is just like your home only bigger.”
A flash of indignation crossed her eyes. “Larger than…”
He took her hands in his. “Now calm down, honey,” he said. “You live on a planet now and that’s bigger than Yonada, isn’t it?”
“Yes,” she conceded reluctantly.
“Well, so’s Headquarters.” He stood and pulled her up. “Come on, let’s get dressed and I’ll show you.”
She quickly regained her regal dignity and gave him a pleased smile. “I will enjoy that, husband.”
“Husband,” he replied. “I enjoy that.”
“Should this feel like coming home?” Ruth asked as she and Spock strolled through one of the many gardens at Starfleet Headquarters. “After all, I spent four years of my life here – and besides the Blakely that’s the longest I’ve ever spent in one place my entire life.”
“It does not feel much like home to me, either,” Spock confessed, “though I was here eight years.”
“Teaching for half of it,” Ruth added for him.
He nodded, then asked, apparently casually, “When did you access my personnel file, my wife?”
“Oh, back a few years ago,” she returned. “When I was at Alterra.”
His eyebrow rose. “Indeed?”
She waited, then said, “Aren’t you going to ask me how I managed it?” She stopped walking, realizing Spock had. When she turned to look at him, his expression plainly indicated that he knew quite well how she had managed it, and was frankly disappointed that she might assume he didn’t. She shrugged. “Okay, so you know me better than that,” she admitted amiably. “Besides, living legends have no secrets, you know.”
Spock’s response was nothing more than a soft grunt. Again Ruth waited.
“According to my script, Boss,” she said lightly, “you’re supposed to say in a rather shocked tone of voice, “living legend, my wife?’”
His features softened into the Vulcan version of an affectionate smile. “Perhaps you have more to learn about me than was contained in my file.”
“I’m about to sigh romantically; don’t be embarrassed,” Ruth told him.
“I shall endeavor to control my reaction,” Spock replied. As promised, Ruth sighed, fluttering her eyelashes for added effect.
“And have you calculated how much more of this sort of adoration I will be able to endure?” he asked.
“Yes,” she replied, equally teasingly. “Three-point-oh-four more expressions.”
“Hmm. I think, my wife, your figures may be a little high.”
She laughed and took hold of his arm, leaning against his shoulder as they continued walking.
“I used to meditate in this garden in the evenings,” Spock said. “It was usually a very quiet place.”
“I always went to the lagoon at night,” Ruth returned. “I like being near the water.”
“I do not.”
“Being from a desert, that makes sense,” Ruth grinned. “But I’ll still have to take you to Berkeley some day.”
“Why Berkeley?” Spock wondered.
“I own a house there.”
His eyebrows took momentary flight. “I have married a woman of property?” he asked with just the right mixture of amusement and respect.
“It’s on a hill overlooking the bay and I won it on a racing bet. I was a needle racer, you know.”
“Yes, my wife, I am aware of your sordid past.”
Ruth frowned. “I simply can’t shock you today, can I?”
“You already did, quite thoroughly, approximately an hour and a half ago.”
She smiled brightly, “Oh yeah, I almost forgot!”
“I doubt I ever will,” Spock admitted softly. Ruth sighed, then laughed at Spock’s, “Which leaves two-point-oh-four expressions.”
After a companionable pause, he asked, “Did you enjoy the botanical gardens on Naois?”
Ruth blushed, then said, “Uh, no. I didn’t make it to the gardens.”
Spock gazed down at her in some surprise. “When I asked after you, Mrs. Majiir told me you had already left the ship. I assumed, then, that…”
“You asked after me?” Ruth interrupted, her eyes widening.
Spock controlled a flush. “Yes. I realized after you left my office that I had been – insensitive. Upon finding out you had already left, I assumed my company was not as important to you as I had come to believe.”
Ruth sighed deeply, shaking her head. “Spock…”
“I was wrong,” he said quietly.
“Very.” She stared into his eyes. “As you know very well.”
“As I know now, my wife. I did not then.” You should not have turned from me in the shuttle.
No. But you could have pressed the matter when we got back to normal.
As could you.
With the only neurotic in the galaxy too neurotic to admit being cured of his neuroses?
A fair point.
So why didn’t you?
Spock took a deep breath, and answered out loud. “When we returned, you immediately began a relationship with Kevin Riley. I – I feared –“ he took another breath, “rejection,” he finished uneasily. “And there were Jim’s feelings to consider …”
“Jim?” Ruth broke in. “Bwana?” Spock nodded. Ruth blinked at him. “Why in god’s name would you be concerned about…”
“Because your relationship with him was so clandestine.”
She flushed, thoroughly embarrassed. “If it was so clandestine, how come you knew about it,” she muttered.
“Ship captains have no secrets from their First Officers,” he explained. “It is my duty to be observant of his actions.”
“We weren’t even the least bit serious about each other,” Ruth offered.
“Obviously,” he agreed. Or you would not now be mine.
Ruth’s eyes softened at him, and she sighed.
“You only have one-point-oh-four…” he began.
“No, you embarrassed me, which means I get a freebie,” Ruth told him.
“Ah,” he replied. “We are playing by Antari rules.”
“What’s that supposed to…”
“Fizzbin.”
“I’m going to make Bwana pay for that someday,” she said. She stood up on her tiptoes and gave Spock’s cheek a gentle kiss. “Now I only have one-point-oh-four expressions.”
“Indeed,” he replied. She smiled at him.
“You wanna go back to the ship and let me thoroughly shock you some more?”
“Will it prevent further displays of public adoration?” he asked mildly.
“Unless you want to ravish me in public, yes. But you still owe me one.”
They had just left the transporter room and were waiting at the turbolift. Ruth was already toying with the fastenings of Spock’s vest, collecting her claimed debt. When the lift door opened, she turned expectantly, then froze. The sudden grief and anguish that flooded her mind was intense and too familiar. She recognized it before she identified the figure who was stepping out of the lift.
Del! Del?
Why you not tell me! screamed into her thoughts, and by the way Spock abruptly stiffened, she could tell he had heard it too.
Noel DelMonde’s jumbled emotions beat at her, too harsh, too confused for her to sort any but the most primitive; passion, agony, terror, loss, anger – and the certain knowledge that he had come to the Enterprise just for her. Her mind automatically began to wrap itself around his skinless torment.
Goddess, Del, I did! I sent a tape…
This not important enough fo’ a call? Babe, how, why you do this to me?!
I didn’t think… I was so happy…
It not occur to you after Naois I might want…
Images of the venus passion and visions they’d shared were fired from his mind to hers – and to Spock’s. In horror, Ruth gasped and quickly tried to shield Spock’s awareness – too late. She felt his rising anger and his misery, the same blend of emotion that had caused his reaction to her seduction earlier that day. God, husband, I’m so…
You apologize for what we have? Del’s thoughts suddenly blazed.
No, I’m apologizing for hurting him! Ruth blazed back. And I’m sorry you’re hurting, but, damn it, Del, you know, you know we can’t…!
I love you!
She is mine! Spock’s voice was thunder in Ruth’s mind and she felt its power crashing into Del’s already pounding thoughts. She is my wife, Mr. DelMonde. Whatever existed between you is in the past. You would do well to keep it there.
Sheer agony shone in Del’s dark eyes, his breathing no more than rasps of pain. Ruth, cher, je t’aime…
“I’m sorry, Del,” Ruth whispered out loud. DelMonde’s eyes closed and he shuddered. Spock stepped into the turbolift, extending two fingers out toward her in silent command. Anger swept over her. You’re gonna pull that Vulcan shit on me now? she thought, but her sudden fury was broken by the anguish in his eyes. When she placed her fingers on her husband’s and the lift door closed behind them, there were tears in hers.
Forgive me, my wife. I should have told you.
Spock’s mental voice was contrite but it did little to soothe Ruth’s sorrow. Why didn’t you ask me what I wanted? she thought at Del. It doesn’t work between us, we both know that. Why would you think that serving on the same ship would change that? How many matches do we have to make, how many times do we have to hurt each other? How could I possibly have known you were trying to arrange a transfer? Why the hell didn’t you tell me?
“Ruth,” Spock said softly and she blinked, the tears washing down her cheeks. She felt his arms coming around her shoulders, and she broke, sobbing against his chest. “It is my fault,” he murmured. “I should have found a way to let you know he had transferred."
Ruth's head jerked up, purple eyes suddenly blazing. "Spock... you knew and you didn't...?!" she began furiously.
Forgive my inattention to your needs. I was – distracted – by the desire to preserve my own joy.
Preserve…? she broke in, her anger replaced by stunned surprise. Did you think…?
I feared. As with Riley. As with Jim.
Ruth abruptly threw her arms around him, hugging him fiercely. “I love you,” she told him, “not Kevin Riley and not Jim Kirk…”
“And not Mr. DelMonde?”
She stopped, anguish again claiming her, then took a deep breath. “I’ve never been happier than I am with you,” she said. “Del doesn’t make me happy. The intensity between us – it’s more like a healing than… it hurts, Spock, as much as it sometimes helps him, it hurts. I don’t want that.” She gazed into his eyes, sending the words to his mind. “I want you.”
His embrace tightened for a moment, then he gently released her. His thumb carefully wiped the tears from her face. “Am I forgiven?” he asked.
She tried to smile. “Of course. But you realize this completely spoiled my mood.”
Spock considered. “And so my choices are now more public adoration, or a diligent attempt to recreate your interrupted state of desire.”
“You’re so perceptive.”
“Hmm.” He paused, apparently pondering. “As you are still entitled to one expression of public adoration…” he began.
“What happened to the point-oh-four," Ruth interrupted.
Spock glanced down, indicating the partially undone fastening of his vest. Ruth giggled. “Oh. Okay. One expression even.”
“… I believe I will make the attempt to restore your previous disposition.”
“I love it when you talk that way,” Ruth breathed.
And I, my wife, love you.
Jilla had returned to the ship. Sulu didn’t really want to make her uncomfortable, so he’d let her go, despite his own desire to have her with him. He and Jeremy settled down at one of the small cafes that surrounded Headquarters’ transporter zone for a drink and a long over-due talk. They spoke of families and mutual friends, time spent together, time spent apart. They filled each other in on the details of Fleet missions and private lives and exchanged gossip and trivia. Sulu talked, of course, about Jilla. Jeremy, of course, listened with pleased attention. The discussion finally got around to the transfers from the Hood to the Enterprise.
“Y’all take good care of Cajun for me,” Jeremy said, mock-sternly.
“We will, but I think he’s in for a bit of a rude surprise,” Sulu returned.
“Oh? Why’s that?”
“Spike got married.”
Jeremy’s expression became completely aghast. “You’re shittin’ me!” he said, then frowned dubiously. “Not Riley…”
“Hell no,” Sulu interrupted with a grin. “Ruth Maxwell Valley is now Mrs. Spock Sareklrn Xtmproswhatever.”
“Spock? Spock?!” Jeremy repeated, then, “You’re shittin’ me!”
“Done deal, Jer,” Sulu affirmed. “A week ago.”
“Holy…” the security lieutenant paused. “…shit!” he finished, the look on his face becoming a grimace. “God, babe, that’s gonna kill N.C.”
Sulu shrugged sympathetically. “I know the feeling, but what are you gonna do? She loves Spock and Spock loves her and that’s that.”
“I told him he should’ve asked her about transferrin',” Jeremy said, shaking his head. “But who ever listens to me?”
Sulu chuckled. “If you let people know you were a shrink, maybe…”
“Hush!” Jeremy hissed, but he was grinning. “Besides, N.C. knew.”
“Yeah, but since when does Cajun listen to anybody?”
Jeremy sighed in agreement. “I just hate to see him get hurt,” he said.
“He’s gonna get to work with the Valjiir design team,” Sulu pointed out. “That’s gotta be compensation for any engineer, right?”
“Yeah, if half of it wasn’t Val.”
Sulu shrugged again. “Daffy can keep him company.”
“I thought Daffy and Pavel Chekov…”
“Off again. I swear, those two go through more incarnations than the Buddha.” Sulu grinned. “But at least Pavel doesn’t go crying in front of her door in the middle of the night drinking vodka and singing.”
Jeremy laughed, remembering Sulu’s description of the love-sick antics of Kevin Riley.
“And you look after him, deal?” Sulu added. Jeremy’s eyebrows rose. “He put in for a transfer and Captain Kirk expedited it,” Sulu explained. “I guess he sympathized with Kev’s need to get off the Enterprise after Ruth drop-kicked his marriage proposal, then turns around and marries Spock.”
Jeremy whistled. “That’s a little cold, even for Spike.”
“She knows. And it wasn’t like that. She never led Kevin on, he’s just an incurable romantic.”
“Like somebody else I know,” Jeremy grinned. Sulu shrugged, but nodded agreeably. “Okay, deal and done, babe.” He took a long swallow of his whiskey. “Speakin’ of transfers,” he said, “Have you met the other former Hood crewmember?” Sulu looked blank. “Ensign LiLing.”
“Pretty name,” Sulu commented.
“Pretty woman,” Jeremy returned and leaned forward. “But then, I always did go for Asians.” Sulu grinned at the leer. “She transferred along with N.C.”
Sulu’s thoughts focused with crystal clarity on the magnificent vision that had been coming out of the transporter room. His heart rate again picked up, his blood heating in his veins. He didn’t know how long he was transfixed by the memory, but when he returned to the present, Jeremy was studying him.
“You’ve seen her,” the security man said.
Sulu nodded, attempting to control the shiver of longing. “I think so. Porcelain goddess, right?”
“That’s Li,” Jeremy replied cautiously. “But babe – she don’t break.”
Sulu’s eyes gleamed with interest. “No?”
“And I didn’t mean it that way,” Jeremy frowned. “She’s – calculating, Sulu. She’s no tease, she has every intention of followin’ through, but… let’s just say she interfered with more than one relationship on the Hood and she was only on board for three months.”
Sulu snorted. “If she could do that in such a short time the relationships must not have been too solid to begin with.” His thoughts were again consumed by the ensign’s incredible beauty. “Then again, her looks are enough to stop warp drive.”
“She’s a siren,” Jeremy warned.
Sulu grinned at him. “But is she a good siren?”
“You’re not fixin’ to find out, are you?” Jeremy’s frown had become a full-fledged, disapproving scowl.
Sulu laughed. “Of course not, Jer. I’ve got what I want.”
The tall black man sighed, then started talking about other things – but Sulu wasn’t listening. He couldn’t take his mind off of Ensign LiLing – ah, LiLing – and Jeremy’s brief but tantalizing description. It did more than pique his curiosity, it made him long to explore it. More than long, it made him want. It had been nearly two years since he’d made love to anyone but Jilla, a fact that would have seemed ludicrous before he’d met her. Her innocence and naïveté were sweet – had been sweet – but there was more to sex than that. He knew how much more, had indulged himself with every manner of heady variation for nearly a decade before she came into his life. He hadn’t thought about that – except on Naois – for nearly two years either. And he wasn’t comfortable thinking about it now, but… he had been jolted by the sight of LiLing. It had happened again when he saw Jeremy. He’d wanted. And now, he knew it wouldn’t leave him in peace.
He pushed the thoughts harshly away, forcing himself to listen to Jeremy’s depiction of a security drill fiasco instead of fantasizing about the lieutenant’s lean, willing body – or about Ensign LiLing’s haunting beauty and the promise in her glittering eyes.
Jim finished signing the last report with a flourish. His paperwork was done and he could at last begin enjoying his leave. He stretched, considering his next move. Bones was busy with his wife, Spock, undoubtedly busy with Ruth. He shook his head. This marriage thing could make a man feel positively old. Maybe I’ll go look up some old friends – or go bar-hopping and find a new one.
Or you could give in to the inevitable and go see Dr. Han. It was an unpleasant thought until he let himself recall her elegant grace. He smiled to himself and reluctantly put a lid on his thoughts. Too bad she’s a crewmember. He’d made it a rule not to get involved with members of his crew and you’ve broken that ‘rule’ a few times, haven’t you? he added ruefully. Which she knows all about. In fact, I think she knows entirely too much.
James T. Kirk, are you embarrassed?
Yes, and with good reason. Janice, why did you have to send those tapes?
Of course, they seem to have engaged the good doctor’s interest. Just how explicit were they? I don’t remember anymore.
I wonder how Dr Han would feel about a tour of the ship? Or the observation deck. Bones did suggest that…
He winced at the thought. That’s just a bit obvious, isn’t it? It’s a courteous gesture to a new and respected crewmember. She’s a psychologist, you think she wouldn’t see through it? Hell, she’d probably say, “this is a bit obvious, isn’t it, Captain?” Damn!
You’re really worried about impressing her, aren’t you?
It’s those damned tapes. Don’t I have to counter the impression she got from them?
And a come-on would certainly do the trick, wouldn’t it? he pointed out sarcastically. Besides, ‘those damned tapes’ are undoubtedly why she’s interested in you in the first place.
You’re showing definite signs of stress, Jim-boy.
Yeah, Bones, where are you when I need you?
On leave with his wife. And Spock’s with Ruth. And I’m repeating myself.
He started to get up from his desk, to do what, he didn’t know. But as he pushed his chair away, the com signaled. A second later, Lieutenant M’ress’ face appeared on the small screen. “Captain, I have Commodore David Calvin for you,” she purred to him. Jim’s first impulse was to have her tell Calvin he’d left the ship already. But if the Commodore wanted him, the Commodore would find him. Dave Calvin was like that. Calvin was terribly young to hold the rank of Commodore, somewhere in his early thirties, and he’d never seen ship duty. Yet he’d earned his rank. He was director of Public Relations for Starfleet and he used his honest love of and enthusiasm for Fleet policies to help impress upon the citizens of the Federation that Fleet was more than a bunch of war-mongering barbarians. He was a likeable man; honest, sincere… and a jinx. Things always worked out for Dave, but to spend time around him was to court disasters of the most embarrassing kind.
But then, Jim thought, what have I got to lose? I’m already facing a disaster of the most embarrassing kind. He cleared his throat. “Put him on, Lieutenant,” he said to the Caitian communications officer.
Seconds later M’ress’ face was replaced by Calvin’s, with his warm brown eyes, wavy brown hair and convincing smile. “Good to have you at Headquarters, Jim,” he enthused. “Why don’t you beam down and join me for a drink?”
Because the drink dispenser will flood and I’ll drown and you’ll somehow get a medal out of it. “I’d like that, Dave.” Especially since the only other thing I’ve got to do is fraught with nearly as much danger.
“Good!” Calvin beamed. “We can talk about the Nests!”
“You mean argue,” Jim returned with a smile of his own.
“That’s likely,” Calvin laughed. “Meet me at the Commander’s Club in half an hour?”
That meant wearing a dress uniform. Jim closed his eyes. Dave Calvin and a dress uniform. Oh, what the hell. "Sure. See you there.”
As Calvin’s image faded, Jim went to change his clothes, quite happy for the excuse to continue avoiding a meeting with Dr. Han.