He gonna understand I was jus' pissed, he told himself. He gonna know I meant no offense.
Except he had. And he knew it. Not for the first time in his life, he damned his temper and, as usual, he knew what was to blame. The Drake was so much more crowded than the Enterprise had been, even with only half the number of people. And after losing Pelori, his soul was already in tatters, even as pieced together as Jeremy Paget had managed to make it. He was taking out his loss on a convenient target, not the least of which was because she wasn't actually there for him to feel her reaction.
He rubbed his hand through his hair, then scowled as it reminded him too strongly of Dylan Paine. A nasty voice in his head reminded him that if he needed a convenient target, the ensign was all too willing to take anything he cared to dish out. And, if he were to be honest about it, would be much more satisfying than sniping at the captain's absent wife.
He turned, intending to give Dylan a call and arrange for a tryst when he got off duty, only to find Lian Rendell standing in the doorway, watching him.
Annoyed that he'd been too preoccupied to notice her arrival, he scowled at her.
"You want somet'ing, doctor?" he growled.
"Just waiting until my services are required," she answered blithely. Then she grinned. "I talked to Rivka. When the captain reads that report of yours..." She made a tsking sound, shaking her head.
"It supposed t' be funny," he muttered.
"Oh, I'm sure Sulu will take it in just that light," Lian returned. "He's never touchy about his wife, is he?"
"Damn," Del swore softly.
"Didn't you think of that, Cajun?" the doctor said almost airily.
"I not t'ink he gonna see it," Del confessed.
Lian looked frankly surprised. "You weren't aware that he instituted a highly effective grapevine when he took over? Wasn't there one on the Enterprise? Oh, wait - what am I thinking? Uhura's on the Enterprise and from what Tomor Rand says, she knows everything." She gave Del a blinding smile.
"Shee-it," Del said, his eyes closed.
"So I expect Sulu would want his grapevine to be just as efficient..." She paused, then added with delicious relish, "non?"
"Sweet Mary, Mother o' God..." Del managed fervently.
"Mr. DelMonde!" Sulu's voice nearly roared from the far end of the corridor.
"Should I give you a preemptive pain killer?" Lian asked sweetly.
"I ever mention I hate your Haven guts?" Del glowered, then straightened, prepared to take his punishment like a man.
Sulu actually threw the tape disc at him when he entered Engineering.
"What the fuck is this shit!" he demanded.
"Uh - my idea o' a li'l bitty joke?" Del tried.
"Jokes, Mr. DelMonde, are supposed to be funny," the captain seethed at him. The waves of his anger swept over Del's mind, battering at his shielding. "This is mean, belittling, sarcastic, stupid, and cruel, not to mention completely unworthy of a member of Starfleet, much less one who I accepted into my crew because no one else would fucking put up with him!"
Del's face twisted in an ugly snarl. "I never ask you to..." he began.
"Don't!" Sulu snapped. "Don't even try..."
"I never ask you to take me in like some stray dog!" Del finished.
"Because you never ask for anything," Sulu shot back. "You let people who care about you do the asking for you!"
"I not let..."
"Yeah, they just do it because you're so damned lovable," Sulu sneered. And Del caught the flash of the Divine Wind in his eyes. The shock that Kam must care for Jilla as much as Sulu did took him aback. And made him realize just why Lian Rendell had thought it necessary to be nearby.
He swallowed his own rage and strident reaction, frantically pushing it down with old memories of just how destructive Sulu's alter ego could be.
"Sulu, I not mean it to..." he began.
"I know exactly what you meant, Cajun," Sulu shot back, "and that's Captain Sulu!"
"I got defensive," Del admitted, "an' her soundin' all Vulcan pushed my buttons a touch..."
"Which is understandable," Lian put in, giving unexpected but welcome support.
"Stay out of this, Haven," Sulu snarled.
She raised her hands, backing up a step.
"It gettin' out o' hand, I admit that..." Del began again.
"Getting?" The word was like a whip across Del's empathy.
"Yeah, okay, it got out o' hand," Del agreed. "But I not actually send what you read, an' Miss Mazar make sure it not get sent so..." He shrugged, deciding to try out one of Daffy Gollub's favorite phrases. "No harm, no foul, non?"
"Except Spike already made sure there was harm," Sulu told him.
Del blinked. "What she do?"
"Told Jilla she was boring," Sulu informed him with bitter fury. "Defended you like - well, let me think, like she was your lover."
Del winced again.
"And when Jilla pointed that annoying little fact out to her, she threw the damned Chinese bitch in her face!"
"Shee-it, Raw-eth..." Del groaned.
"Because apparently 'Raw-eth' is the only one who gets to blame anybody for cheating on their mate," Sulu went on viciously. "Because gods forbid Jilla, who felt her Indiian commitment to Spock three years ago, should try and hold 'Raw-eth' to her vows. And double gods forbid she should bear any responsibility for any of it!"
"It not her fault," Del insisted. "I knew what I was doin'." He thought for only a split second before adding, "An' so did you."
"And I paid for it, you damned, cocky bastard!" Sulu thundered.
"You t'ink I not?" Del shouted back, and threw every moment of torment he had endured straight at Sulu's wide-open empathy.
Sulu's eyes went wide, and Del felt Kam fleeing the tremendous flash of raw agony. Then his captain was doubling over, gasping. Del got to him before Lian did, easing the rapidly crumbling body to the deck.
"I sorry, mon ami," he whispered hoarsely. "But we both gotta suffer wit' it."
"But Jilla shouldn't," Sulu rasped, choking out the words. "She had nothing to do with it, and I hurt her so bad..."
"An' Ruth jus' as much to blame as me," Del finished, fighting the torrent of misery from his friend - and from inside himself. "I know, Sulu, I know. She got no call to pull that on your li'l one."
"For you!" Sulu said, some of his previous anger blazing through the pain. "She does it for you!"
Del swallowed, nodding. "That the difference," he said. "She truly love me."
The truth of it radiated between them and the heat was both scalding and soothing to Del's raw empathy.
"And from what I've heard," Lian put in, kneeling down beside them both, "Ensign Bitch loved no one and nothing but herself."
"And how is Jilla not supposed to feel that love?" Sulu asked, ignoring Lian. "How in the name of god is she supposed to ignore that when she's..."
"I know, Sulu," Del repeated, even as the anguish swept through him. "She Indiian, I know." He squeezed his eyes shut against the memory of Pelori, hearing her voice in his head: you have become nothing more than a drunk; a self-involved, self-pitying, self-destructive drunk.
He took a ragged breath. "I sorry," he said again. "I takin' my foul temper out on Jilla, an' she not deserve it. I apologize, I swear - an' I tell Ruth t' keep her damn mouth shut."
Sulu's tear-filled eyes stared at him. "No, you won't," he said bluntly. "You never apologize."
Again, the truth seared between them. Then Sulu's expression softened with sympathy.
"And as far as contacting Ruth..." He sighed. "There's no need for you to do that to yourself, Del," he whispered, then a self-deprecating smile tugged at his lips. "Besides, I already did."
Del, too, tried to smile. "That some conversation you had wit' her, I be t'inkin'."
"Oh, to have been a fly on that wall," Lian chuckled, and the tension broke. Del snorted, shaking his head. Sulu's half-grin widened. Del could almost feel his captain sensing his thoughts as he pulled the gist of the conversation from his memory. HIs lips twitched, only partially a grimace for the discomfort he knew Ruth must have been feeling, the larger part vindictively enjoying both it and the proof of how much she still cared for him. Soon all three of them were laughing and wiping away traces of tears; his of bitter regret, Sulu's of pain and longing, Lian's of sheer absurdity. Eventually, they all stood, and Sulu picked up the disc he'd thrown.
"Just redo this, Del," he said. "And try to be patient with Jilla. You two really are on the same side, you know."
"Oui, mon capitain," Del answered, and saluted smartly.
When Sulu had left Engineering, Lian gave Del a short round of applause. "Well handled, Cajun," she said approvingly.
"Cept fo' th' part where I almos' get myself - an' Sulu - killed," Del agreed.
"I always knew empathy had to be good for something," the Haven grinned.
Jeremy gave the communiques Ruth had sent a quick once over before taking them to Scotty. As he suspected, Jilla's work was exemplary - so much so that he could almost follow the specifications. N.C.'s was - more confusing, but Jeremy was willing to put that down to him not being an engineer.
He gave Scotty the gist of the problem, and stood patiently while the Enterprise's Chief Engineer looked through the specs in detail. He grinned at Jilla's work, and snorted with amusement at DelMonde's.
"The lad's got first rate ideas, I'll give him that," Scotty said at last.
"You can follow them, right?" Jeremy asked.
"Oh aye, that I can." The older man glanced up, his eyes twinkling. "But I'd wager my best bottle that not many below the rank of chief could."
Jeremy sighed. "So Jilla's right that he should be more clear."
"Well now, lad, he could, no mistakin' that," Scotty replied. "He writes for engineers."
"Then Jilla is being too detailed?"
"Not at all, not at all. Her work is perfect for teachin' those that need learnin'."
"Scotty..." Paget began, then the light dawned. This was more than a difference of style, and more than Ruth's defensiveness. Del had been working on the Nests for an entire year before Ruth and Jilla had transferred to SanFran - which effectivly took him off the project as far as the Brass were concerned. Jilla, being who and what she was, had, of course, wanted to keep him on it, not only for the quality of his work, but out of an innate sense of fair play. When he got antagonistic, she responded with insulted confusion, which made her prickly and overly sensitive, as well as indignant over what she would perceive as lack of gratitude. Add to that Ruth's no doubt overblown reactions...
"They're having a turf war, aren't they?" he said.
The engineer chuckled. "An' just when they should be workin' together." He tsked. "Who started this wee battle o' theirs?"
"I think it was simultaneous," Jeremy said, though in his own mind he had no doubt. From the look in Scott's eyes, he had it figured out too.
"And ye say Ruth sent these to ya?"
Paget nodded.
"Got territorial about the lad's work, did she?"
"That would be my guess."
"An' little Jilla sees - ah - inappropriate defense?"
"I'm sure she does."
Scotty suddenly straightened. "Well, lad, thank ye for bringin' it to my attention. I think I'll have a wee little chat with 'em both." His eyes twinkled again. "I leave Ruth to yer tender lovin' care."
"Just what I wanted to hear," Jeremy muttered.
"Dear, dear Cousin Lane,
I know how important it is for you to keep tabs on your zevran, so I thought I'd share a little taste of His Captain's Majesty. Note the flashing eyes, the commanding presence, the biting wit as he gives Cajun a well-deserved verbal thrashing. Sweet, aching, memory-filled daydreams, you conniving bastard.
Lian"
Gage swore at the message tape, but it didn't stop him from watching the video clip Dr. Rendell had enclosed. Sulu's righteous tirade was abruptly cut off after Cajun's roar of "You t'ink I not?" but Gage wasn't interested in the conversational content anyway. The longing seeing Sulu evoked was sweet, in a pouring sugar in an old wound sort of way, and he watched the clip several times before noticing that Tomor Rand stood behind him, chuckling.
"Cajun should know better than to dis Kam's little one," the security guard snorted.
"Did I send for you?" Gage asked, switching the video off and turning to scowl at the large man.
"Nope," Rand answered. "I was coming to ask you if you'd gotten Cousin Lian's little gift." He paused, then grinned. "Because I did, and so did Saff and Rani and Yan and, oh, about half a dozen others. And that's only here."
"That bitch," Gage growled.
"Don't be too hard on her," Tomor shrugged. "She's only paying you back for tricking her into Fleet in the first place."
"You make damn sure it doesn't undermine my authority," Gage warned.
"Sure thing, Boss - if you had any to undermine." Rand grinned.
"Well, scab it, my friend, I think I just ran low on the supply of big, fat Rigellian cigars," the handsome proprietor of the HTE Leather said pointedly.
Tomor took one of the ever-present aforementioned cigars out of his mouth. "No undermining of authority," he repeated crisply. "Got it."
"Now get out of my sight."
"Sir yes sir."
Gage allowed himself one final viewing - and one final stab of longing - before turning to his daily spreadsheet.
Ruth glanced over at the other desk in her house at Berkeley, anxiously biting her thumb, watching as Jilla patiently documented all the missing steps in Del's specifications. There was a closed-off determination in her friend's manner and Ruth longed to say something to her - only she didn't know what she could say that wouldn't sound like she was trying to pick a fight.
How about 'I'm sorry, Jilla, I'll stay out of it, you work this out with Del'? she asked herself. Or even better, 'this was all my fault, I was just defending him and yeah, you're right, I shouldn't'? And 'I was wrong to bring up You-Know-Who and I'll never do it again and no, you're not boring'?
Or she could just feel all that like she always does and I wouldn't have to say anything....
The com whistled and she jumped in her seat, then turned to it.
"Valley," she said, trying not to sound as miserable as she felt.
"So, did he yell at you?" Jeremy Paget's voice asked.
Ruth sighed. "Yeah, he did."
"Did you apologize?"
"Ummm...."
On the screen, Paget shook his head. "Why did I even ask? Anyway, I showed the documents you sent to Scotty. He says N.C.'s work is great for engineers..."
"See, I told you..." Ruth began.
"...BUT that Jilla's is better for teaching. Which is necessary when you're dealin' with brand new engine configurations. Hell, Ruth, even I understood her specs."
Ruth's head dipped guiltily.
"And," Paget went on, "we both agree they're just havin' a pissing contest, and Scotty apparently knows how to stop it, so it's all gonna work out."
"Thank the Zehara," Ruth murmured.
"The real problem is makin' sure it don't flare up again," Jeremy continued. "Which means gettin' you to stop playin' the DelMonde Defense League, or puttin' a large, sound-proof sock in your big damn mouth."
Ruth blinked. "You're saying this is my...?" she began, completely forgetting that she'd been admitting that to herself less than five minutes before.
"Hell yes. I know how damned prickly you get about N.C., and the only time you don't is if you think someone else is." On the screen, he leaned forward, his face set in uber-redshirt mode. "So you just keep your comments and ideas and suggestions to yourself, Commander, and let them deal with each other, or I will so come there and kick your pretty Antari ass all over the damn quadrant myself, keheil or no keheil."
Ruth sputtered, then glared, then tried not to look guilty, then pouted. "I thought you'd give Del the come-to-Jesus speech," she muttered.
"When he needs it, I will," Paget assured her.
"And Jilla?"
Jeremy snorted. "If she ever needs it, hell will have frozen over, pigs'll be flyin' and the Klingons will join the Federation and call for universal disarmament. So I think I'll worry about that then."
"No one ever blames her for..." Ruth began.
"This wasn't her fault - OR N.C.'s," the security man returned. "Now get off it, Spike, and stop tryin' to avoid the blame you so richly deserve."
"I hate you, Cobra."
"And here I though you loved me." Paget grinned. "Take your lumps, honey. Paget out."
Ruth stuck her tongue out at the screen, then sighed and took a deep breath.
She hated apologies.
"So, lassie, there's no need for either of ya to get in a snit. Noel's always been one for shortcuts, and ye should be rememberin' that and not take it as an affront against ye."
Jilla sighed and nodded to the face on her view screen. Scott's praise for her work had taken the edge off Ruth's criticisms, and his gentle reminder that she and Noel DelMonde had settled their working differences long ago left her feeling both sheepish and much more tolerant of her fellow engineer's quirks.
"I will apologize to Mr. DelMonde," she assured her one-time mentor and, since the both fortunate and unfortunate visit from her father over two years previously, her acknowledged zilos.
"And I'm sure he'll be doin' likewise, even if he won't come out and say so to yer face," Scotty returned with a wide grin. "Just as soon as I'm done tellin' him what I just told you."
"Thank you, Mr. Scott."
"Ach, I do miss ye, lass."
"And I you."
"Take care of yerself now, an' tell little Miss Ruth that McCoy says to keep her wee fingers out of places they don't belong."
"Keep her...?" Jilla began.
Scotty chuckled. "Never mind, lass - and I know, ye never do. She'll know."
The screen went blank, and Jilla took a moment to settle his words within herself, then turned to Ruth, only to find the Antari already looking at her.
"Mr. Scott asked me to tell you that Dr. McCoy said..." the Indiian began.
"I heard," Ruth said. She shrugged. "Jeremy just told me the same thing."
There was a pause, then both women started to speak together.
"Jilla, I'm sorry for..."
"Ruth, I apologize for..."
"I'll never, never mention what's-her-bitch..."
"I should not presume upon your friendships..."
"Del can be such an ass sometimes..."
"Mr. DelMonde is an exemplary engineer..."
"This was all my fault..."
"I am, perhaps, overly sensitive to..."
Both stopped talking. Ruth tried a weak grin.
"So, friends again?"
"Always, Ruth," Jilla replied with a shy smile of her own.
"Yeah, Scotty, you surely got that right," Del said to Scott's face on the view screen. His former boss's chastisement had been gentle and pointed and Del had to admit that, if he forced himself to remember Jilla Majiir as something other than the Ice Queen, absolutely correct. When they'd been on the same ship, their differences had sometimes caused minor friction, but she'd always been tolerant and patient, and he'd always teased her about her precision - but they'd both understood and accepted the other's style - which had always complemented the others'.
He shook his head, wondering how things had gotten so out of hand.
"I know it must be hard for ye, lad," Scotty was saying, "after losin' so much - and knowin' little Jilla is workin' with Miss Valley..."
With a not-very-sudden but still uncomfortable shock of insight, Del realized just why he had been so surly about the whole thing. Jilla was Indiian. Her carefully detailed work had reminded him too much of Pelori. And knowing Ruth was right there with her... And the only way he could defend himself against that double-dose of pain was to lash out at it. It wasn't exactly a new insight - but for the first time, he was listening to it. Still....
"I've talked to her, too, lad, and I think ye can both work through this if ye remember that it's no contest between ye."
Contest. Rivalry. There was the missing piece. Engineering was all he had left, and to have Fleet pull his preeminence on the Nests out from under him...
"It's not that she's better, Noel. It's only that - well, Valjiir is a unique skill and we want the new beauties to have that uniqueness, don't we?"
"Deljirr might be a sight better," Del found himself saying.
Scotty chuckled. "That it might, lad, but - well, you know the ships need more than engines, aye?"
Del scowled.
"Unless ye want to have several thousand engineers doin' everything manually?"
There was a sour pause.
"Scotty, you know how I feel 'bout logic," Del finally muttered.
"Aye, computers are the bane of all good engineers," the Scotsman laughed. "So you'll take it down a peg, won't ye, lad?"
"I not apologizin'," Del warned.
"An' she will," Scott assured. "So accept it when it comes, an'... Just let it lie, Noel. Let it lie."
Frowning at the idea of hearing Jilla's no doubt sincere apology, Del nonetheless nodded. "Lettin' it lie, Scotty," he promised.
"I miss ye, Noel."
"Thanks fo' that. I glad somebody does."
He closed the com and sat back in his chair. The emotions still roiled within him, trying to renege on the promise he'd just made to Montgomery Scott, when the door to Engineering opened and Dylan Paine stepped in.
"Time for our lesson, Del," the ensign said cheerfully.
All Del's foul temper fixed on the focus which, if he'd aimed them there in the first place, would've avoided the last few day's unnecessary drama.
"Fuck lessons," he said and pulled Dylan into his arms.
The juicy video clip quickly made its way through official Haven channels, then through unofficial ones. Rumors of it expanded faster than the clip itself, which was confined to the proprietary interests of the Haven Empire.
Jeremy had called Sulu, just to make sure everything had worked out all right. He got an earful about Ruth Valley's shortcomings, and assured his friend that the situation had been properly dealt with - after dealing with his own indignant anger at the things Ruth had said to Jilla: the Antari's own version had been a little watered-down. No wonder the Indiian had gotten so intransigent. And after hearing about the aborted communique Del had written to Jilla, he was sorely tempted to make a little trip to the Drake and let the engineer know just how annoyed he was. Only being told that it never actually got sent saved Noel DelMonde' ass from getting the business end of his boot.
After patiently listening to Sulu's usual desperate melancholy - which had reasserted itself after the captain had gotten to vent most of his frustration - Jeremy said a sympathetic goodbye and turned to the day's security briefing. There was an alert from Headquarters regarding the dissemination of some ugly rumors about trouble in the Nest's engineering team.
He notified Intelligence that, at least on the Enterprise, there would be no gossiping about it - and had private chats with both Uhura and Daffy Gollub to make certain. Uhura had agreed after wanting the details, and Daffy had rolled her eyes, muttering something about the Spike and Cajun Comedy Act needing new material. He told Captain Kirk and Commander Spock only that the rumors existed, and had been squelched.
He sent messages to his contacts throughout Starfleet, but couldn't find anything solid that might make the gossip into anything provable.
Thanking Jesus, he marked the alert as closed
Months later -- by the time all the principles had forgotten about the incident - Jae Tormarin, Haven bureau chief for Sector 17 of the Federation News Corporation was enjoying a welcome-home drink with his producer, Ken Zolinksy, well-known sleaze-monger and ratings hound.
"Surely the Havens have got something going that'll boost the ratings," Ken said at the so-far disappointing report. The FNC had paid good money for Tomarin's fact-finding jaunt.
"Nothing about the mysteriously missing High Stakes," Jae replied, taking a sip of his drink. Then he glanced up over the rim of the glass. "But my little birdie at Starbase 14 told me a very sadly unconfirmable rumor about a couple of your favorite Starfleet bad boys in a dust-up over the Nest ship project..."
The producer frowned. "Completely unconfirmable?"
"Well, no one'll go on record," Jae answered, then took another sip, waiting.
He didn't have to wait long.
Ken snorted.
"Just that?" he said slyly.
Jae grinned.
"Is there any actual evidence?"
"I heard of some kind of video clip, but no one I know - and no one they know - has ever actually seen it," the bureau chief replied.
"So it can't be conclusively denied, either," Ken said, swirling the ice and liquor in his own glass around in his hand.
"Seems that way," Jae confirmed.
Ken laughed and clinked his glass against Jae's.
"Congratulations," he said. "You've just pulled us through Sweeps Week."
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