A Little Bitty Bit Of Treachery

Try as he might, Sulu simply couldn't bring himself to write the report Spock wanted. We entered the verilium-obsitrate cloud to rescue my wife - and yours - because you weren't conscious to give that order. We didn't wait for the Kali and Siva because my wife - and yours - were in imminent danger. Dr. McCoy was right to insist on making an evaluation of you because regulations require... and since you passed out, you obviously needed...

Lies. Lies, lies lies! Damn it, Del and I decided to get you the fuck out of the way because you were content to let my wife - and yours - get captured by the fucking Klingons to fulfill a fucking mission to capture a fucking Klingon vessel and you're too cold-blooded and emotionally dead to figure out any other way to do it except to risk the lives of my wife - AND YOURS! We enlisted McCoy's help, and Scotty's, and let me tell you they were only too happy to cooperate! We were careful, we came up with a strategy to reconfigure the probes to leave as bread-crumbs, Del's brilliance at engineering and my brilliance as a pilot enabled us to get back out of the cloud and lead a Klingon warship straight to the Kali and Siva, and fulfill your fucking mission for you. Yes, the Enterprise was damaged. Yes, we destroyed a Klingon ship. Yeah, they whined to Fleet about it - but we got Fleet their damned warship so I doubt they're gonna make life too hard for you. It was mutiny, albeit a minor, temporary one, as is evidenced by the fact that we let you wake up and went back to following your fucking, cold-blooded, emotionally dead orders.

And there's no way out of it.

And the worst thing was, Sulu knew, given the same circumstances, he would do it again. Just as he had when the insane Dr. Janice Lester and switched bodies with Jim Kirk. Just as Jim Kirk had when Matt Decker had commandeered the Enterprise for his obsession with the planet-killer. And, in fact, just as Spock himself had in order to bring Christopher Pike to the Talosians.

See, minor, temporary mutinies are practically the norm here, said the voice inside him that was chuckling wickedly.

There were extenuating circumstances, Sulu began.

Sure, the voice countered. Lester was controlling Kirk's body so it wasn't really mutiny against the ship's rightful captain. Same thing with Kirk and Decker - Decker was in command only because he pulled rank. Kirk was still the rightful captain. Spock... now there's a tricky one. He did what he did out of loyalty to his former captain - and it's said loyalty is as important a motivation in Vulcans as love is in Humans. Same thing, here, non?

The use of Del's cultural syntax burned, as did the oblique reference to Ruth and Jilla's own mutiny to cure Spock of cordrazine addiction. And there, too - mitigating circumstances. It had been an alien entity they were rebelling against, not the rightful captain of a starship.

In those cases the offending parties took responsibility for... Sulu tried.

Kam interrupted.

But that's not something we're prepared to do, is it?

Sulu winced. He covered his reaction with, Since when is it 'we'?

Since whatever happens to your admittedly magnificent body also happens to mine, was the nonchalant reply.

He rose, unable to sit still, pacing back and forth across his office. No way out, his mind kept repeating, and for once, it wasn't Kam. No way out.

And why should there be? I'm guilty. I mutinied. I had good reasons - ha! Isn't that what he always says? - and if I believe what I did was justified...

Why shouldn't I stand up to the bastard? Sulu suddenly wondered. Why not just tell him exactly what we did? McCoy and Scotty could say they were acting under my orders - I was acting captain at the time. And Del's done anyway. Face the music, take your punishment...

Abandon Jilla....

What choice do I have?!

At least tell her first.

"First sensible thing you've said today," Sulu muttered, than added, "maybe ever."

He straightened his shoulders, and left his office, prepared to go home and confess everything.

When he entered his cabin, he was more than a little surprised to see Jilla sitting at her deck, holding a mug of coffee in her hands - with Ruth across from her. It was clear from their faces that they'd been doing a lot of crying, but now Jilla's eyes were shining with an emotion he hadn't seen for months; relief. And Ruth was calm, her own cup of coffee on the desk before her.

Sulu found himself glancing behind him.

"Did I go through a time warp?" he asked.

Both women immediately rose, rushing into his arms, their weeping beginning anew.

"Sulu, it is so terrible, yet..." Jilla began, on top of Ruth's

"Roy, what I've put you through - what I've put all of us through..."

"Hold on, one at a time!" he exclaimed. He kissed them both, Jilla on the lips, Ruth on her cheek. "Okay, first things first. What's so terrible?"

Ruth stepped away, leaving Jilla to the comfort of Sulu's embrace. She took what was obviously a steadying breath, then said, "I voided the contact."

"She and Spock are no longer married," Jilla added.

Shock and resignation chased themselves around in Sulu's brain for several seconds. Finally, he reached out, pulling Ruth again into his arms. "Spike, I'm so sorry...." he said, then words failed him.

It's about time.

Maybe this is what the bastard wanted all along.

How much pain can one woman bear?

Somebody has to get through to Del. If anything will give him a reason to live...

At least now she can come to me - to Jilla...

And does this change anything about what you have to tell them.

I wasn't planning on telling Ruth.

Doesn't she deserve to know as much as Jilla does?

She wasn't even here, and now that the cold-blooded son of a bitch is no longer any of her concern...

Look at her. If that ever happens, it won't be for a long time.

But it also concerns Del, and she'll be even more concerned with him when...

"Roy, you're making us both dizzy," Ruth said.

"Your emotions are unsettled, my love," Jilla agreed.

Sulu flushed. "Uh, Ruth, did you...?"

She shook her head and Sulu noticed that her usually lustrous hair seemed limp and lifeless.

"My brain is too tender for any accidental telepathy," she admitted.

Gently disentangling himself, Sulu moved forward and took a seat on the bed. Jilla came to sit beside him and Ruth plopped down cross-legged on the floor in front of them.

Before he could ask more questions, Ruth said, "He doesn't love me anymore, that much is plain. I've been avoiding that particular truth for a while now, but I have to heal Del..."

Sulu immediately began a protest, as did Jilla. Ruth held up a hand.

"I have to at least try. And that's likely to end up - if I'm successful - merging our telepathies in ways that would make continuing my marriage impossible anyway." She stared at the deck. "I knew it was over after Haddor. I should've done it then. But I still hoped..."

Her voice choked off and both Sulu and Jilla were off the bed, enfolding her in yet another embrace. Sulu whispered words of comfort and understanding, and was overjoyed to hear Jilla doing the same.

When the emotions had again settled down, he turned to the Indiian. "Hon, not that I want to look a gift horse in the mouth..." He had to pause, almost grinning at the puzzled look that came over her face. He waved the expression and her lack of understanding away. "How is it that you... I mean, you've clearly forgiven her..."

"No, not forgiven," Jilla corrected softly. "There is no forgiveness for ones such as we." She glanced at Ruth with infinite tenderness. "But there is acceptance."

"We share damnation," Ruth rejoined. "I understand. I acknowledge my responsibility."

"So Del is..." Sulu began.

"As you are," Ruth answered with a ghost of a smile.

"Not quite," Jilla returned. "Noel does not share our damnation."

"I thought you didn't talk about that," Ruth said.

"We don't," Sulu cut in. He again released them, getting up to stride to the replicator to get his own cup of coffee. He paced for a while, listening to their quiet voices, then abruptly turned back to them.

"I have to tell you something," he announced, "And you're not gonna like it.."

He confessed as dispassionately as he could, setting out the circumstances of his and Del's "little bitty bit of treachery." He and Del and McCoy and Scott had prepared everything beforehand in a brief though intense meeting. They had done it not to usurp the captaincy, only to create the conditions that would allow them to effect a rescue. Yes, they'd been angry. Yes, it was unethical and immoral and against all military propriety. Yes it was easier because Spock had been such a bastard for so long.

"And now he's launched an investigation," he finished wearily, "and I trained Tara Ryan too well for her not to get to the truth of it. So McCoy and Scotty and I will likely be court-martialed - hell, Del, too, even though he won't comprehend any of it. And I don't see any way out of it."

Ruth's large eyes had grown larger with each step Sulu confessed. Finally, she stood up, pacing as agitatedly as he had been.

"Oh god, that explains it!" she moaned. "He won't let me try to heal Del because he does want him to die! I would have never believed...."

"The captain is quite good as using threats to achieve his ends," Jilla stated flatly. "Vulcans are more merciless than you can know."

"Death is so much more satisfying than a mere court-martial," Sulu snarled. "I'm only surprised he hasn't found a way to get me killed, too."

Sudden comprehension dawned in Ruth's eyes. "He gave me to Del to..." Abruptly, she clamped her hands over her mouth.

"There is a way to stop the investigation," Jilla said.

Sulu stared her with frank incredulity. "Logic isn't going to..."

"Please, my love," Jilla interrupted. "Leave the method to me. I am far more acquainted with Vulcan than are either of you."

"Hon, I'm willing to take my punishment..."

"But I am not. Were you to be taken from me, I would die." The words were simple, but undeniably true.

Sulu's brow lowered in a puzzled frown. "What are you..." He began again.

He saw but couldn't acknowledge the look that was exchanged between Ruth and Jilla. There was a sense of grim satisfaction somewhere within him, and when he tried to examine it, Kam's words were echoed aloud with Ruth's firm,

"Roy, you don't want to know." She paused, and looked away. "And neither do I."

Inside him, Kam laughed.

Spock couldn't bring himself to return to his cabin. There, his loss hung in the air, a fog of accusation and despair. To face it was to accept all he had done, to acknowledge that what his senior staff believed him to be was true. It was to admit that he had been in error all along, that he had looked upon his wife, his friends, as emotional children and not the capable adults and officers they were. To confess that he had been wrong, terribly, irrevocably wrong.

At his desk in his office, he sent an order to Sickbay that Lieutenant Commander DelMonde be kept as comfortable as modern medicine would allow until the Enterprise reached the neutral world of Betara and he could be transferred to an appropriate medical facility there, awaiting his final disposition at Jude. He received a sarcastic response from McCoy, something to the effect that the doctor had planned on letting his patient suffer, but since the captain ordered mercy, he'd see what he could do.

His former friends believed, truly believed he would let one of his crew suffer. They believed he would send his rilain and his wife...

She is mine no longer.

Fathers, is Jim Kirk worth so much?

Whether or not he had been, he now had to be. There was no recalling Ruth, no repairing of the lives and relationships he had destroyed. All he had left was the hope of rescuing Jim from the past. It would have to suffice.

He closed his eyes, willing a mantra of meditation into his mind to clear out the tears that threatened to burst their dams of stoicism and logic. The exercise was interrupted by the signaling at the office door.

He switched on his computer terminal before answering.

"Come."

When he looked up, Jilla Majiir was standing inside the closing door. He did not allow his features to register his surprise. The Indiian hadn't voluntarily approached him since...

He washed his mind of the hateful memory, instead asking calmly, "What is it Lieutenant?"

"You have not requested my report on either the examination of the verilium-obsitrate cloud, nor on the encounter with the Klingons," she responded.

He noted that she did not call him "sir," nor refer to him as "captain," though why he should notice such a thing wasn't clear to him.

"I have been attending to other matters," he began.

"The logical inference is that you do not need my report because our mission was not to study the verilium phenomenon, and you were already aware we would be found by a Klingon warship," Jilla continued as if he hadn't spoken. Her words were calm but Spock could see by the paleness of her skin and the shadows in her grey eyes that she was anything but. "I am aware of an investigation into allegations of certain actions taken to ensure the safe return of the Galileo. If true, these allegations would tend to support my conclusion."

Renewed despair stabbed into Spock's heart - she knows, Ruth knows!... but he forced himself to regard her dispassionately. "Such allegations do not concern you, Lieutenant, as you were not on board at the time," he told her.

"But they do, Spock," the Indiian replied. She took several steps toward him, and he found himself rising from his chair. "You are aware that if actions are taken which would result in my separation from Sulu, the effect on me would be fatal. You are aware that my death would be a long, slow, lingering one. You have said in the past that you would not wish that fate on me. I will take you at your word." She paused, then slowly dropped to her knees, and spoke in Vulcan. "I open to you with willingness. You must not refuse my gift."

Spock's mind reeled as his own words were thrown back at him. He had said them to her to convince her to misunderstand what she felt from him in those chaotic first days of Jim's disappearance. He had used their former relationship to drive a wedge of disregard between them, threatening her with the promise to take what was his: Are you not mine? I should have claimed you, should now. I will have what I desire from you; did you not intend me to? Or why else do you come to me, your mind open, waiting for the thrust of mine?

Her mind was open now, he could feel the tendrils of their bond calling to him. Why would she do this, how could...?

Ruth told her we are no longer married. That eliminated her fear of being an instrument of damnation. Therefore, she will do what she must to save her beloved from a court-martial, which would leave her, as she stated, separate from him and suffering the inevitable withering away of her soul and her body.

It was with bitter irony that he realized she was making a logical case for the travesty he had forced upon her with such raw emotion.

But it gave him a way out of the entire debacle, a way he could avoid the courts-martial he did not want to convene. And, after all, he could agree to her offer and never take action to accept it.

He moved around his desk, willing his eyes to gleam with licentiousness.

"I will take what you offer, child," he said, as he had eight months before. "You know me so well. It pleases me."

Jilla bent forward, her head touching the deck. Spock revolved the viewscreen on his desk and called Security, knowing that when Tara Ryan answered, she would see the Indiian in that position.

And she, too, will consider me a monster.

What is one more when you have lost all that you hold dear?

"Ryan here," came the response.

"Call off the investigation into my unfortunate collapse, Miss Ryan," he said.

The TerAfrican woman blinked. "Sir?"

"I believe my instructions were clear," he stated, then allowed his voice to take on a note of what he could only name as oily iniquity. "I have been given - satisfaction - in the matter."

To make certain Ryan understood his intent, he glanced at Jilla with a look of manifest avarice and arrogance.

He turned from the monitor, closing his eyes so he would not see the look of horror and disgust on his Security Chief's face. It was bad enough he heard it in her voice when she managed, "Yes, sir," and immediately closed the connection.

He took a moment to reorder his emotions, then again faced Jilla. "That will be all for the moment, Lieutenant," he said.

But the Indiian did not rise. Instead, she murmured, "Tra'feean, command me."

Spock shuddered at the ancient title. Literally, it denoted one whose champion had been killed in Challenge. It was, in fact, what T'Pring was obligated to call Stonn - though he doubted if the mild Vulcan would ever demand anything of the much stronger-willed woman. In use, however, it had been the equivalent to "master," the acknowledgement of one who possessed another being. Jilla was acknowledging herself as his property, his slave, and she would not, in private, respond to the relationship of captain to officer.

Dreading what he had to do, he bent, grasping her by her collar, pulling her up against his body. "I do not require your service at the moment," he whispered to her. "I do require your silence on this matter. I will call to you when I have need of you." He let his teeth close on the delicate point of her ear, emphasizing his control over her body. She gasped and shivered, but made no attempt to stop him nor to move away. When he stepped away from her, he did so with cruel disregard, not even bothering to throw her away from him, as if her compliance with his every thought was utterly inevitable.

He went back to his desk, and didn't look up again until he heard the door open and close. Then he laid his head in his hands and let hopeless, silent sobs wrack his body and his mind.

“Tara?” Sulu was surprised to find the Security Officer at his cabin door. He grimaced and rapped himself on the forehead ruefully. “Oh shit, that blasted report.... I don't have it finished. I guess Spock wants me to go sit in the brig until I do…”

Ryan’s posture was stiff and her manner forbiddingly formal. “The Captain has ordered the investigation of the incident in the turbolift closed, sir.”

Sulu blinked. Whatever Jilla had decided to do had worked at warp speed. “Did he say why?”

The Security Officer kept her gaze flat and straight ahead as if she were on parade attention. “I don’t feel free to discuss what was said.”

The first officer frowned, his nagging suspicious agitated to a fever pitch. “Oh?”

Remaining determinedly silent on whatever had occurred, Ryan continued. “Once a CO orders an investigation closed, only an officer higher up the chain of command can order it re-opened.”

“Yes,” Sulu acknowledged.

Still not meeting his gaze the Security Officer stated flatly, “I feel there are indications of possible serious misconduct by members of this ship’s senior staff.”

With a mixture of guilt for his own misconduct and pride in his subordinate’s investigative skill, Sulu nodded.

“There is a Starfleet ombudsman stationed on Betara. I’ve made an appointment to speak with him off the record.”

Again the first officer had to admire Ryan’s resourcefulness despite the dread it aroused in him. If the Security Officer felt Spock had called off the investigation for questionable reasons – God, Buddha, Aema, what had Jilla done? – then the matter could still be pursued as a personnel management problem that could appropriately come under the provenance of the ombudsman. “Do what you need to do, Lieutenant.”

“I’m going to turn over my logs to him and tell him everything I’ve seen,” she stated pointedly, as if there was much that she wasn’t saying that she expected him to understand.

Dread and guilt warred in his stomach as Sulu nodded.

“I respectfully suggest that you do the same,” Ryan said firmly, a warning explicit in her tone.

“Thank you, Lieutenant,” he acknowledged, his heart thumping with dread as he watched the Security stiffly turn on her heel and march away. Gods, Jilla! What have you done?

“Captain, I wished to speak with you about Lieutenant Commander DelMonde…”

Spock looked up wearily from the viewscreen of data he had been staring at without comprehension for the past half hour. He had not locked the door to his office. He was on duty, after all, and theorhetically any of his officers could consult with him at this time. Few dared to do so, though. As of late, not even an officer as bold as Jade Han would walk in without first making an appointment.

“Has his condition worsened?” the Vulcan asked, firmly squelching any hint of weariness from creeping into his tone.

“Not as far we can tell,” Dr. Han replied, making a small gesture that indicated the lack of certainty she and her team had in their diagnosis of the engineer’s unusual injury. “Dr. McCoy informed me of your intention to have Mr. DelMonde transferred to facilities on Betara then to Jude.”

“Yes.”

“Betara has nothing…” she began argumentatively.

“The Farragut is due there in 12.9 days,” the Vulcan interrupted, holding up a silencing hand. “Their current heading will put them at Jude in another 16.3 days. Our assignments will take us no where near a suitable institution for more than three months.”

“In my opinion, Jude is not suitable for DelMonde. The care he would receive there would be primarily palliative…”

“Elba II, then,” Spock conceded, turning back to his viewscreen.

Han took in a deep breath. “We may be getting ahead of ourselves. We’ve not established that his condition is, in fact, incurable.”

The Vulcan lifted an eyebrow. “Oh?”

“Although she is currently not yet sufficiently recovered to make an attempt, your wife is a powerful…”

“She is not,” Spock interrupted flatly.

Han blinked. “Pardon me?”

“She is not…” Spock had to stop and swallow the emotion that threatened to overwhelm him. “…my wife… any longer.”

“Ruth voided your contract?’

“Yes.”

As one would expect of an old friend who was Human, the weight of this news caused Jade Han to sink down into the chair opposite Spock’s desk. As one would expect of Vulcan clan member, her only comment was a simple, “Unexpected.”

Because their past history, Spock felt he owed her the courtesy of acknowledging, “Not entirely.”

She fell silent, respectfully keeping any emotional reaction she was experiencing carefully muted.

He met her eyes briefly and was reminded of an incident from their childhood. Because of cultural and age differences, they did not play together exactly as Human children would have. Occasionally when they visited one another’s homes, Jade enjoyed showing him the latest addition to her collection of stuffed animals. They discussed where each one had come from and the cultural/mythological narratives the plaything or its name represented. Both found the exercise very satisfying.

When she had noticed him lingering over a bear-like figure that reminded him of I-Chaya she had inquired about his interest. He’d told her about his kas’wahn ritual and the unfortunate thing that had happened.

She had been silent for a long time – as she was now – her precociously wise eyes very serious. “It’s okay to be sad,” she’d told him.

It had been hard to swallow the tears, but he had managed it. He had shaken his head. “Not for Vulcans.”

She’d taken another long quiet moment to take in this concept of denying grief its proper expression. “That’s fine,” she had said at last, giving his arm one gentle, respectful pat. “You go on remembering. I’ll take care of the being sad part.”

Now Jade Han looked very much like she’d like to do the same again. She sat silently with him for several endless moments grieving a loss he could not acknowledge in the manner it deserved. Her grave dark eyes filled slowly with tears.

“This matter can wait,” she said, brushing them away. “I will prepare a written recommendation. I’m not certain that Elba II is a much better option than Jude, but I do know Dr. Corey and will consult him.”

“Thank you, Doctor,” he said, grateful that she’d given him an easy way out of a conversation too painful to continue.

“You must spend time in deep meditation,” she informed him, in the manner of a Vulcan matriarch. Not a suggestion. An “it is decided” pronouncement.

“I will see to it,” he said, since this was the only reply possible to such an order.

She paused at the door and looked back at him. Han opened her mouth as if she wanted to say or do. This time, however, there was nothing to say. Nothing could be done.

The door closed behind the doctor. Once more Spock was alone with nothing but his pain to give him counsel.

"Jude? Elba?!" Ruth paced in Sickbay, her agitation making her normally melodic voice shrill. "He's not hopeless! How could Spock even consider those as options!" She faced Jade Han defiantly. "All right, I've had enough. You're going to open that isolation room and walk me past the guards and I'm going to...!"

"No, I'm not," Jade countered sternly. "I am going to do my best to convince the captain that this isn't the proper course of treatment, but you will do nothing. You're not strong enough, and you no longer have any influence with..." She stopped abruptly.

"I know that," the Antari said from between gritted teeth. "Don't lecture me about the contract because..."

"I'm not," Hade cut her off. "Whether or not I agree with it, you did what you felt you had to do. That's not the issue. You are NOT strong enough to undertake a healing of this magnitude and I don't particularly care to have to make a recommendation as to where to get the best possible care for two brain-damaged telepaths."

Ruth frowned, but Jade noted the unshed tears in her eyes. "I can't do nothing," she muttered. "You can't expect me to..."

"Contact, Antares," the doctor suddenly suggested. "Perhaps they can send another keheil. After all, there's no sauvrn to contend with..."

"That request would have to come from Starfleet," Ruth said, still frowning. "And Headquarters would need the request from the captain of the officer in question. I think we both know that's not gonna happen."

You do have a direct line to the Zehara, do you not?" Jade asked, folding her arms.

Ruth's eyes widened. "Damn," she murmured. "Why didn't I think of that?"

Z! she called, as loudly as her weakened telepathy would allow.

What have you done, child? came the immediate response.

A sauvrn tried to nest in my brain, Ruth answered. Another telepath was able to remove it, but... he's been badly damaged and I was wondering if you'd dispatch another keheil to...

I asked what you had done, ani Ramy, the Zehara interrupted sternly. Not what had happened to you.

Puzzled, Ruth asked, What I have done?

evan Amanda, was the curt reply.

Sorrow and bitterness washed through the mental connection. He no longer loves me, Ruth answered. I freed him from the contract. Should I have kept him tied to me when there was nothing but ashes between us?

If that is truly the case, the Zehara responded enigmatically. But to the matter at hand. Of what other telepath do you speak?

Del... Ruth said relieved to have the other painful subject dropped. Noel... evan Louisa.

Ah, the beautiful one you let get away from you, came the mild rebuke, though the Zehara's voice was wistful. You do seem to have a habit of letting handsome telepaths slip through your fingers. Not good for Antari genetics, ani Ramy.

What other...? Ruth began, and a voice from somewhere she couldn't identify told her not to go there. It was followed by a warm chuckle that she almost recognized, and the sense of the Zehara telling someone who wasn't her to hush. She shook off the disquieting sensations and redirected her thoughts.

I'm still weak, she continued. The doctors here won't let me attempt a healing...

You don't know what you can't do until you can't do it, the Zehara reminded.

Tell them that, Ruth agreed. But they won't let me, so if you could send someone...

I'm afraid not.

Ruth blinked. But why?

There are reasons you don't need to know, ani Ramy. All I can tell you is that choices have consequences... yours, evan Louisa's, evan Amanda's. And that is my final word on the subject. She paused. You do have my leave to attempt the healing yourself. Another pause. When you are not so weak.

But... Z... Lady Zehara... "Arrggghhh!" Ruth screamed in frustration.

"No luck?" Jade asked.

"The Zehara is a big, golden bitch," Ruth snarled.

The Enterprise crawled slowly toward Betara. All the repairs that Engineering could make while on route had been made, but there was major damage to the shield generators and weapons systems. The damage to the navigation systems was able to be jury-rigged well enough to keep the great vessel on course. Ruth enlisted the help of Daffy Gollub, Uhura and Monique DuBois to help her pack and move her belongings to the cabin on Deck 5 that was normally reserved for the Chief Science Officer. It hadn't been used as living quarters since Jim Kirk had become captain, making Spock both his First and Science officer. When the Vulcan had become captain, his Chief of Sciences had been his wife. Maintenance had had to scramble to move the various pieces of equipment that had been stored there over the years. It wasn't far enough away from the Captain's quarters to suit her current emotional state - only two cabins down from his - but it was the only one available to her.

It hadn't been an easy thing to do, even with Daffy's sarcastic wit and Uhura's soothing presence. Ruth had, of course, asked Jilla and Sulu for help, but Sulu was far too busy and Jilla had said, enigmatically, that it would not be proper. Ruth hadn't asked for any further explanation.

She had been more than tempted to take Sylvester, the pink and silver, genetically safe tribble she had given Spock, with her, but the creature had cried piteously when she tried to pick it up. It brought tears to her eyes, and she left it on the bed she had shared with her husband for such a short time.

The cabin looked spartan and bare when she'd finished. No lush plant life, no cloud tapestry, no guitar, none of the various gifts and knicknacks she'd collected over the years. The closet looked empty, bereft not only of her blue uniforms, but her colorful assortment of civilian clothes. Only Spock's dull gold uniform shirts and his somber meditation robes were left. Where he'd put the elegant civies she'd given him, she didn't know. Of course, one wall was still covered with the blood red drape and the Vulcan weaponry which were Spock's heritage.

"Think of how cluttered a cabin will be with Cajun," Daffy had said when she'd stood in the doorway longer than the chemist thought was healthy. "Empty bourbon bottles, blue pills all over the place, clothes thrown everywhere, dents in the walls from when he throws his boots at you..." When Ruth scowled at her, she'd put her hands on her hips. "What? He's lived with my Pasha for over a year. I can't look forward to getting rid of him?"

"I think Daffy's telling you that Del will get better," Uhura pointed out, "and that there would be no reason you and he can't share a cabin."

Ruth nodded numbly, then turned and left the room to its austere, lonely isolation.

"So the great Antari goddess said 'no,' huh?" McCoy drawled as he and Jade checked the readings from the isolation ward. "What good is she then?"

"I wouldn't say that too loudly if I were you," Jade replied as she frowned at the display. It indicated areas of DelMonde's brain that were damaged - and was far too brightly lit up for her comfort.

"Why? Ruthie's hearing isn't that good." her fellow doctor joked.

"I wasn't referring to Ruth's hearing," Jade said, and pointed upward with her stylus.

"Come and get me," McCoy returned, glancing up and shaking his fist in the air. "What kind of healer - let alone what kind of deity - lets someone suffer like this, especially considering how important he is to one of your own children?"

To his eternal surprise, he heard a voice that was rich and full and more than a little angry say, Don't push it, evan Sara.

"If we don't get some help, I don't think there's anything more we can do," Jade was saying.

"Well, that blasted Vulcan's not gonna agree to any outside consultations," McCoy grumbled, concluding that the voice had been exhaustion and an over-active imagination. As was the chuckle he thought he heard at that thought.

"I've already told him I'm going to speak to Dr. Corey," was Jade's response.

"Corey?" McCoy exclaimed. "At Elba? That's no place for...."

"I know, but it's the only suggestion I can make." She studied the readings again. "We have to face the facts, Leonard. There's nothing we can do for him."

Inside Noel DelMonde's isolation room, his fractured brain took notice of the conversation, just as it took notice of every conversation going on in the entire ship. The part of him that was aware tried to make sense of the cacophony, but most of his mind was centered on two and only two things. Ruth was recovering, wanting to heal him. And she had dissolved her marriage to the green-blooded monster. Slowly, interminably slowly, by increments so infinitesimal they could not be measured by the medical scanners in Sickbay, cerulean blue crept along damaged neurons and destroyed tissue, determined that the Cajun should function long enough and well enough to again hold in his arms the only woman - aside from his mother - he had ever loved.

With DelMonde incapacitated, Montgomery Scott's own liquid form of incapacitation grew worse. He grieved, and hated the "monster on the Bridge" who was responsible for all that was wrong with the Enterprise. He apologized drunkenly to Jilla Majiir when he had to inform her that he could not bear to sit at the Engineering station with the captain, knowing it was as painful to her. To his surprise, she had nodded and said that it "was her place now.” But the scotch in his system caught up with him, and all he could do was allow her and Mrraal to get him to his bunk.

The black-furred Caitian had questioned his superior on her rather odd statement, to which the Indiian had replied, "I am Spock's disposal and command." He had later asked his mate, M'ress, if she understood the reference, certain that it must be some idiom with which he was not familiar. M'ress, in turn, had consulted her superior, the best linguist she knew. Uhura had looked alarmed and told her subordinate that she would get to the bottom of it.

Which was why the Communications officer approached the First Officer and Chief of Sciences as they sat trying not to hurry through their morning coffee, lest they be late for duty.

"Sulu," Uhura asked bluntly, "why would Jilla say she was at Spock's disposal and command?"

"Aren't we all?" Sulu returned bitterly.

"No, she said 'Spock's' not 'the captain's," Uhura clarified.

As the First Officer's brow furrowed, Ruth suggested uneasily, "Well... maybe because we're no longer married... and she is - or was..." She glanced helplessly at Sulu.

His expression turned from puzzled to resentful. "That better not be it," he muttered.

Uhura took a deep breath. "This is one of those things I don't want to know, isn't it?"

"Maybe you should have a nice chat with Tara," Sulu said with a false, tight smile.

Uhura glanced between them, then moved away from the table.

"A chat with Tara?" Ruth asked.

"She came to me with a suggestion that I speak off the record with the Starfleet ombudsman on Betara."

Ruth's eyes widened. "She doesn't..." she began.

"Spock called off the investigation before she could finish it," Sulu replied. "After Jilla...." He paused. "But Tara also said she'd found indications of possibly serious misconduct.”

The uncomfortable silence was broken when Sulu added, "And she said she was going to report what she'd seen."

"What did she see?" Ruth wondered, her voice filled with dread and suspicion.

"Spock did threaten Jilla," he reminded bluntly, his voice ragged.

"But.... he couldn't... she wouldn't..."

"I don't want to think about it," Sulu said.

After another long pause, Ruth whispered, "But it's all you've been able to do, isn't it?"

Sulu gripped his coffee cup, staring fixedly into it. "He's not in a relationship with her best friend anymore," he said at last. "And Indi is an Empire. She'd do whatever she had to to protect...." He stopped, shaking his head savagely. "I don't want to think about it," he repeated. then looked up and held her gaze. "And neither do you."

Spock hesitated in front of his cabin. He dreaded opening the door and stepping inside. For the past week, every day after First Watch, Jilla Majiir had been waiting for him. He had tried locking the door, but she always managed to gain entrance. Her engineering skills saw to that. He had tried ordering her to leave him, but she only retreated to a far corner of the room and stayed, on her knees, her grey eyes attentively but unobtrusively watchng him. When he rose from the chair at his desk, she was beside him in an instant. If he moved to the replicator, she was there, her soft voice asking what he required. She held his meditation gown for him when he removed his uniform. And always, when he first entered, she knelt before him, wearing only a dark green sleevless shift, and bent her head to the floor and murmured, "Tra'feean, command me."

He steeled himself and stepped into his quarters. He ignored the Indiian's presence, her quiet acknowledgement of him as master, and went to his desk. With the repairs required by the ship, he had lost many hours of time he could have spent doing the research necesary to find Jim Kirk. If it had filled his days before Ruth's departure, it was now an obsession. He dreamed of at last coming across some historical report that would lead him to Jim's whereabouts, of flying to Ruth's arms to tell her the news, of begging for her forgiveness - and in this flight of fancy she would, of course, forgive him and after Jim was safe and sound at home, she would travel with him to Vulcan where they would at last be properly...

Jilla's voice interrupted his reverie. "You are troubled, Tra'feean," she whispered in Vulcan. "I am here to ease you. Will you not take what is yours?"

Spock's eyes closed. There was no escaping the terrible web he had woven for himself so many months ago. If he did not act on his own disastrous insinuations soon, she would become suspicious. She would begin to attend to his tia as closely as she now observed his movements to discern his needs, as a proper kal'aroun should. And to prevent that was the very reason he had undertaken this hideous course in the first place.

But how can I betray her in such a fashion? he thought miserably. How can I injure Sulu more than I already have? How can I deceive...

You have no wife to deceive, he reminded himself grimly. And by Vulcan custom, Jilla is as unwed as you are.

His treacherous mind gave him a sudden picture, Jilla in the throes of plak tow, her naked body glowing with heat and desire as she crooned lascivious invitation. His heart began to race, the memory of need and hunger lashing through him.

She is your mate, his mind insisted. Your golden one will no longer serve. This little one is not only ready, but presents herself to you. Do you dare leave the future unprovided for?

His thoughts were interrupted by the soft rustle of fabric. He glanced up to find Jilla naked before him, her eyes down cast, both arms held out before her in a gesture of acquiescence.

"I am yours," she murmured. "Claim me."

Once again the words he had thrown at her eight months before came back to him, bitter and degrading. He had had no choice then...

No, you chose your course. You chose your actions. Take responsibility for them, or admit your error.

And until he found Jim, that he could not do.

He forced himself back to the decision that had damned him, and growled, as he had then, his voice thick with arrogant pleasure.

"Come then," he said.

Jilla was late arriving home, as she had been for a week, ever since she had told him she could stop the investigation. Sulu sat in their cabin, trying to get through the tons of paperwork the captain never had time to do.

And just why doesn't he have the time? his treacherous brain asked with silky innuendo.

He never has, Sulu responded tightly. This is no different...

It is. You know it. And you know why. It's the same reason Jilla is late every night since...

Sulu rose so abruptly the data pads on his desk clattered to the deck. He paced the small room.

She's an engineer. She's always finding work to do after she's off duty. With Scotty drinking so much and Del in sickbay - he couldn't bring himself to name the devastating injury that was keeping his friend there - there's a lot more she has to do anyway.

The words Ruth didn't say pounded in his thoughts. "She is... was...”

His mate. Spock's mate. That goddamned, cruel, cold, vicious bastard's mate! She said to leave the method to her, the method by which she'd get him to stop the investigation into what I did This is my fault, my doing...

He remembered his words to her after his fidelity fuck-up, pleading with her, trying to end the suffering she was enduring...

"...not for me, please, Jilla, not for me…”

And how the words had broken her, washing over her in helpless waves. “Yes, for you!” she had wailed, “always, only for you…!”

Whatever she was doing, it was to save him, to protect him. As she always had. As she always would.

And you're gonna let her, aren't you, you pathetic weakling, came the derisive, mocking voice that lived within him. And then tell yourself that it's her choice.

He let out a roar of helpless frustration then sank to his knees, furious, exhausted rage forcing tears into his eyes and choking sobs from his throat.

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