Return to Valjiir Stories
It was almost sunset when Sulu finally rose from the large, round bed, kissing Jilla’s softly shimmering cheek. They’d made love a half-dozen times, snacking on the food provided by the hotel and drinking champagne and plum wine in between.
“I’m gonna shower and head down to the casino,” he told her. “You wanna come?”
“Indiians are not allowed to…” she began.
“Only if you play games where reading someone’s emotions could affect the outcome,” he returned.
Jilla sighed, conceding the statement. “Forgive me, my love, I really have no interest in gambling. And,” her skin shimmered in a faint blush. “I am somewhat weary.”
Sulu grinned. “Well, I promised to exhaust you, didn’t I? And I always keep my promises.”
He shivered as a sudden chill took him, then shook it off. It’s the air-conditioning on sweaty skin, he thought. “You can at least shower with me.”
“Which will result in another reason for me to be exhausted?” she asked.
“Could be,” Sulu returned jauntily.
“Then I think not.”
He frowned for a moment, then his grin returned. “Okay, hon. You can rest up for when I get back.” His smile widened at her renewed flush. He turned, and her soft voice stopped him.
“Sulu?”
“Yeah?”
“My – reluctance – has nothing to do with how much I love you.”
He moved back to the bed, sitting down, taking her into his arms. “I know,” he said, “And I love you, too.” He could feel her trembling, and gently lifted her chin. “Hon? Jilla, what’s wrong?”
“It is foolish,” she murmured, lowering her eyes.
“Tell me,” he coaxed.
“I feel – I want to ask you – not to leave me.”
“If you don’t want me to go to the casino, hon…”
“No, I meant – ” she glanced up at him, her eyes pleading. “Don’t leave me.”
He nearly crushed her in a fierce embrace. “Never again,” he promised. “We’re Bonded, Jilla, I couldn’t even if I wanted to – and I don’t want to. Not ever.” He pulled away, taking her left hand, placing his own left palm over it. “I offered once, hon. I’ll get a knife and do it right now if you want.” Cold again swept over him and he ignored it. “I mean it.”
“I know you do,” she answered, then smiled tentatively. “You cannot know what that fact means to me.”
“Yeah, I think I can,” Sulu responded, then kissed her. He rose, still holding onto her hand. “Come on, come shower with me.” He placed his arms around her, guiding her to the bathroom. She shivered against him, and he made a note to see about getting the room’s climate controls adjusted.
“29 Red!” the Roulette dealer called and Daffy stamped her foot in frustration. She’d been at the casino for over three hours, and hadn’t won a single bet – on anything. She’d started with poker, losing almost 500 credits before she switched to baccarat. There she lost another 300, then another 300 at blackjack. She’d added to her negative total to the tune of 100 at the roulette table.
Turning, she stomped away from the wheel and glanced at the slot machines. She hated slot machines. It was pure chance, and boring besides. A waiter passed her with a tray of champagne glasses, and she grabbed two, downing one and replacing the empty glass, shooing the shirtless man away as she hung onto the other glass. Another casino worker came by, a scantily clad woman carrying a tray of small, ornate pipes, and Daffy took one of those. The woman gave her a flirtatious smile, and offered her a light. As she drew the relaxing Rigellian deeply into her lungs, she heard a loud cheer going up from the poker tables.
Somebody just cost the House a bundle, she mused sourly, but headed in that direction anyway. Maybe she could at least have a vicarious good time.
She wormed her way through the crowd at the poker table and had to snort. “Doesn’t it just figure,” she said loudly, and the winning player turned his head, smiling happily at her.
“Hey, Daf!” Sulu said enthusiastically. “Join the game!”
“No thanks, I already lost a day’s pay here,” she replied, then leaned over, staring covetously at the impressive stack of chips in front of him. “Looks like Jilla gets some new dylithium jewelry.”
“Come on, I’ll stake you,” Sulu offered.
“Or she could just give you all her money now,” one of the other players commented acidly.
Sulu chuckled. “I’d say I’m sorry,” he began.
“But he’s not,” Daffy finished as the dealer called, “Ante up!” Sulu put in the required ante – a 100 credit chip – and the dealer began placing the next hand in front of the players. The game was five-card draw, Sulu’s favorite. He waited until all five of his cards were dealt, then carefully lifted them one by one. They were all hearts, Ace, Queen, Jack, seven and four. Sulu was the third player to bet, and he raised the pot by a substantial amount. Two other players folded immediately. When the First Officer actually drew two cards, trading in the four and the seven, Daffy mentally shook her head. Who in their right mind gave up a dealt flush?
Kamikaze does, she answered herself, and took another hit off her pipe to cover her reaction as Sulu checked his two new cards: the King and ten of hearts.
His next bet was just as substantial as his first, but not overly so, considering that he was holding the highest hand possible – unless somebody else has a Royal Spade Flush, she commented to herself.
The betting went on for another few minutes, until there were only Sulu and the House’s hands left. The pot was up to nearly 5000, and Sulu glanced at the dealer. “Call,” he said, and the Haven grinned and turned over a flush in clubs – ten high. Sulu shrugged, and turned over his cards.
The dealer scowled. “Hand to lucky number seven,” he said, indicating Sulu’s position at the table. The crowd around him shrieked their adulation as he gathered up the pot.
As he neatly stacked the chips, two of the players got up in disgust, two of the waiting crowd taking their places.
“Suckers,” one of the departing players commented and Sulu grinned at him. A beautiful Cygnian undulated to Sulu’s side.
“Lucky and gorgeous,” she breathed in his ear.
“And taken,” Daffy said, elbowing the woman out of her way. The Cygnian gave her a critical once-over.
“You’re nowhere near his style,” she said.
“Too true,” Daffy said blithely. “His style is Indiian and upstairs.”
“She’s right,” Sulu said, then smiled and handed the Cygnian a 100 credit chip. “But thanks for the compliment.”
The woman looked offended and crushed, but took the chip and wandered away. Two other eager females took her place and Daffy moved to stand protectively over him.
“Watch yourself, Kam,” she whispered. In reply, Sulu merely held up his left hand, the lights of the casino reflecting off the silver band on his finger.
“Ante, please,” the dealer called, and the First Officer tossed another chip into the center of the table. This hand he won with Four of a Kind, all Queens plus the Ace of spades. The next he won by bluffing, and the next with a Full House, Queens over Kings. One of the House managers came over to watch for a while, but left frowning. ‘Lucky number seven’ was clearly not counting cards, or cheating in any other way. The hands just fell in his favor in an almost ridiculously consistent way.
Daffy stared, amazed. Sulu was winning a small fortune – increasingly becoming a large fortune – and she couldn’t win a bet to save her life. She couldn’t even get a little side action going – no one was foolish enough to bet against Number Seven. When the House called the table closed and someone appeared with a rack for all of Sulu’s chips, she followed Sulu to the blackjack table.
He couldn’t lose. His amazing luck followed him from blackjack to baccarat to the roulette table. The casino enforcers followed him, too, but since he wasn’t cheating, there wasn’t anything they could do about it. He overheard one of them murmuring something about ‘the kiss of the resha’ and had to grin. He didn’t believe in the mythical Haven demi-gods any more than he did in most other forms of deity – Aema excepted, he dutifully noted – but it certainly seemed like something had taken a liking to him. Daffy, who had also followed him, eventually started spitting on her fingers, snapping the saliva to the ground and stomping on it. When he asked her about it, she’d told him to go outside and curse and spit and turn around three times, but didn’t offer an explanation of that, either. It was nearing 0400 when he cashed in his winnings, much to the relief of the entire casino staff, and headed to a comm terminal. He called Jeremy, who was equal parts pleased, astounded and envious, and promised him a detailed tape of his leave – “even about you and little Jilla?” “Okay, not those details.” – and headed back to the penthouse. He was going to catch a few hours’ sleep, then treat Jilla to abso-fucking-lutely anything she wanted.
The suite was completely silent and as cold as if the air conditioning had been stuck on high all night. Sulu shivered as he felt his way in the dark to the temperature controls, not wanting to turn on the light and wake Jilla. The soft, glowing readout said 72 degrees. No way, he told it, and punched the button that would increase the heat. Then he pulled off his civies and went to the large bed. As he crawled into it, feeling across it for Jilla’s small form, he realized that though the bed clothes were rumpled, Jilla wasn’t it in.
“Quarter lights,” he said aloud, and as the soft illumination filled the room, he climbed out of the bed and went to the bathroom, his heart pounding. Maybe she’s gone to warm up in a nice, hot bath, he thought, knowing it was stupid even as the words formed. Jilla was an engineer. If a call to the hotel maintenance hadn’t fixed the temperature controls, she would’ve done it herself.
When the bathroom was empty, he began to panic. Had she gone to the casino to try and find him? If she couldn’t sleep, maybe she’d gone to a restaurant or a café. Lorelei never closed.
He searched the rest of the suite just to be sure and found all her clothing still in the closet and drawers. He quickly re-dressed and called the desk to see if she’d left a message for him. No, the night-manager assured him, there were no calls from the suite and no messages for him.
He went back to the casino, but no one there had seen any Indiian who fit Jilla’s description. The same was true in all the restaurants in the hotel, and even in the bars.
He searched every store and cafe in a two block radius, then went back to the Capei’ella’s comm terminal. He started working his way through calls to any members of the crew of the Enterprise who Jilla might have contacted.
“If you say one word,” Daphne Gollub warned as she re-entered her hotel room. “One fucking word…”
Her boyfriend was laying on their bed looking up at a screen projected onto the ceiling over him. From the look of things, ambition had only carried him as far as putting on a pair of pajama bottoms and opening another bottle of vodka.
Chekov glanced at her and then mimed sealing his mouth closed with a phaser.
The chemist put a hand on her hip. “No, go ahead,” she dared him. “You know it’s going to kill you until you’ve said ‘I told you so’ at least one or two hundred times.”
“Not as surely as you will kill me if I do,” he muttered under his breath.
“What was that?” she asked, folding her arms forbiddingly. “Do you want to say something?”
“No,” he assured her. “I have become quite fond of breathing without medical assistance and have decided that I would like to continue to do so.”
“Very funny we are, Mr. Comedy,” she replied, unamused.
“I am sorry, Dafshka,” the navigator replied sincerely. He patted the bed beside him. “Come lie down.”
Gollub sighed heavily as she dropped her too-empty purse and pulled off her boots. “Fucked up this place is. Seriously fucked up.”
Her boyfriend started to agree, then thought better of it.
“I couldn’t have won a bet even if I paid to,” she said, taking the drink he offered her as she lay down beside him on the bed. “And Sulu was winning jackpots from the parking meters by just looking at them.”
It took Chekov a long moment to think of something inoffensive to ask. “Sulu was in the casino?”
“In it?” Gollub scoffed. “He probably owns it by now.“
“So he was…” The navigator stopped, realizing suddenly that there was no way to finish his sentence that wouldn’t put him in grave danger of bodily harm.
“Yes.” The chemist smiled daggers. “He was doing that not losing thing… I believe it’s called “winning,” but it’s been so long since I’ve done it, I’m not sure anymore.”
“How nice for him,” Chekov replied blandly.
Gollub shook her head. “There’s something fucked up about this. It’s a Haven casino. You just don’t win like that in a Haven casino…”
Even though he closed his eyes to completely avoid looking like he was about to say something, the Russian could hear his girlfriend growl at his anticipated comment. When he dared to peek at her with one eye, she was glaring at him.
“I could crush your windpipe with one hand,” she assured him.
Chekov refilled his glass. “You don’t think Sulu was cheating, do you?”
“No,” she replied, letting him top off her glass too. “That’s the weirdest thing. I was watching him. Everyone was watching him. He was just lucky – incredibly, stupidly, unbelievably lucky.”
The Russian shrugged. “Statistical anomalies sometimes…”
“No. You don’t get it. It wasn’t just one or two hands. It was every frigging game. Unbelievable shit that never happens. He was having the kind of luck you only see in one of those meshugginah holo-cins where…” Looking up, Gollub realized the screen above them was playing a children’s program. There was only one reason she could think of that would explain why her boyfriend had the media center set to such a selection. “You’ve been watching porn?”
“No,” he denied automatically.
She took the small remote control from him and called up a list of recently viewed programs. “Yes.”
“A little,” he admitted. “It constitutes a surprising number of the entertainment options.”
She scrolled down revealing more titles. “Sure looks like it.”
The navigator retrieved the remote. “I was actually shopping.”
“Shopping,” she repeated dubiously.
“Yes. I thought a present might you cheer up if you…” Feeling her glare sear the side of his face, he carefully stopped and cleared his throat. “I thought a present would be nice.”
Gollub raised her eyebrows when he brought up a screen of a lingerie model. “I know I was gone for a long time, but I thought you would remember that I still only have two breasts, bubee.”
“This store is having a sale,” he explained, hastily scrolling backwards through a selection. “I was checking the discounted items.”
“What a frugal little comparison shopper you are,” she commented as he flipped rapidly through a several dozen screens of exotic undergarments.
“I was actually looking at dresses,” he said, finally coming to an example of such a garment. “I thought this one was nice.”
“It is,” Gollub agreed. “I could wear it even if I decided to be a nun.”
“Perhaps a little too conservative,” he conceded.
She shrugged and plumped a pillow to prop her head on. “Not for a nun.”
“What about this one?”
The chemist nodded. “I would wear that.”
“I thought so.”
“…’Specially if m’grandkids were with me,” she continued in an “old lady” voice.
Chekov sighed. “Too mature?”
“Just a touch,” Gollub snuggled beside him and nodded. “But if I were one hundred and forty-five…”
The navigator paged forward. “I suppose you do not like this one either.”
“Are you kidding? It’s perfect.”
The navigator blinked at her. “It is?”
“…For Jilla to wear while she sits in her cabin reading technical manuals,” the chemist finished. “Do the Vulcan house slippers come with it, or are they extra?”
The Russian paged forward through several more frames of models twirling slowly in different styles.
“Ugly, tacky, hideous,” Gollub pronounced as each flicked by. “Revolting, unflattering, gruesome…”
“I liked this one,” Chekov said hopefully when she didn’t immediately attack a new style.
The chemist shook her head. “It’s pink. I look like a pig in pink.”
“No,” he objected adamantly. “It is a very attractive color on you.”
“You have never seen me wear pink.”
“No, but there is an option…” The navigator made his way quickly through a few menus and brought up a new figure to model the garment.
Gollub had to laugh. “Is that how you think I look?”
“I only had access to a holo of your face,” he explained. “The computer extrapolated the skin tone… I did have to estimate your measurements.”
“Yeah… I guessed that.”
“It may not be exactly precise, but…”
“Bubee, if I had that body, instead of being in Starfleet I’d be making pornos for lonely guys to watch while their girlfriends blew their last week’s pay…”
“You do have that body,” Chekov protested, then smiled and kissed her. “That is why I was so reluctant to let you go.”
“And why you want me to dress like a nun?” she asked, putting her arms around him.
“Only in public,” he said, then grinned as he changed the slide. “I did pick out a few things you could wear in the hotel room…”
Gollub looked up and rolled her eyes. “What things to wear? You have me naked.”
The navigator chuckled huskily as he kissed her throat. “And you look wonderful, don’t you? Perhaps you should try it on for size…”
The comm unit on the bedside table began to chime urgently.
The chemist groaned as her boyfriend rolled over to answer the call. “That’s my luck today all over.”
“Chekov?” A familiar face lit the screen.
“Sulu,” the navigator replied. “We were just talking about you…”
The helmsman’s tight, worried expression held no traces of the incredible lucky streak Gollub had reported. “Sorry to bother you guys, but…”
“What is it?” the chemist asked, not liking the panic in his tone.
“It’s Jilla,” he replied, looking and sounding as lost as Gollub’s supply of credits. “She’s gone.”
Tomor added some more hot water to the large bathtub, refilled the glasses of champagne, then settled back down into the water, replacing his arm around Uhura’s warm, brown shoulders. The mirrors in the ornate room were steam-covered and had been for hours. They’d made love, ordered room service, eaten their meals, made love, had a few drinks and shared some Rigellian, made love and were now contentedly relaxing, watching a movie on the hotel’s viewscreen, all without leaving the tub for more than a few minutes at a time.
Uhura sighed and turned her head to kiss the Haven. “This is heaven,” she murmured.
‘You think we could sleep here without drowning?” Tomor asked with a chuckle.
“No,” the communications officer replied sadly. “And I’m getting awfully pruny anyway.”
“Pruny?”
“All brown and wrinkly,” Uhura explained, holding up her hand.
Tomor inspected her very wrinkled fingers, then laughed, kissing them. “Just a preview of when we’re both old and decrepit,” he said.
“You expect to be around that long?”
“Beauty! I’m Haven. We don’t let go of a good thing.”
She smiled, kissing him again. “You say the sweetest things, sugar.”
“And you’d know, seeing as how you are the sweetest thing.”
She turned fully to him, her breasts pressing against his dark gold chest. “Once more before we hit the mattress?” she whispered huskily.
“Your wish is, Beauty,” he answered, then growled. Uhura’s laughter was throaty and sensual – and was interrupted by the loud chime from the room’s comm unit.
“Who the hell is calling at five in the morning?” she wondered.
“If it’s my employer, I think I’m gonna be out of a job,” Tomor muttered, but he let Uhura rise from the water.
She quickly dried herself, and left the bathroom. Tomor released the drain plug and grabbed his own towel, carrying the champagne with him as he went to the main room. Uhura was seated on the bed, with small comm screen turned to it.
“Gone? Gone where?” she was saying.
From the speaker, Tomor could recognize Kam’s voice, clearly agitated.
“That’s just it, Uhura, I don’t know where! I’ve looked everywhere and no one’s seen her! Daffy and Chekov are out double checking and I didn’t know where else to turn.”
Uhura glanced up. “Tomor, Jilla’s missing.”
“Kam’s pretty little Indiian?” the Haven asked. At Uhura’s nod, he sat down next to her, turning the comm screen to face him. “Where’d you last see her, Kam?”
“In our room, the penthouse suite, just before I went down to the casino.”
“Penthouse, huh?” Tomor was grinning – not a nice expression – and Uhura lowered puzzled eyebrows.
“Not my choice, the hotel was full up,” Sulu scowled. “Can you help me or not?”
“Gage was right. You really can fuck a leave all to hell, can’t you?”
“Fuck you, Rand!” Sulu seethed.
“Calm down, Sulu,” Uhura put in. “We’ll get dressed and meet you in the lobby. We’ll find her.”
“We will?” Tomor asked.
Uhura closed the link and glared at him, her hands on her toweled hips. “They’re my friends, Tomor. You’re Haven Security. If something’s happened, who better to ferret it out than you?”
”But... the bath, the bed, our leave…
“Will still be here. How far could one Indiian get in the middle of the night?”
“On Lorelei? Devri preserve us.”
Uhura shuddered at the sincerity in his voice. It didn’t help at all when she saw that the large, strong, nearly invincible Haven bodyguard shuddered too.
Chekov and Daffy returned to the hotel lobby after a fruitless search of the surrounding hotels and casinos – in which Daffy had to try her luck once more and found it just as dismal. Sulu was pacing, Uhura watching him sympathetically, while Tomor was applying his brand of persuasion on the hotel manager. The large Haven turned as the Russian stepped up to Sulu, shaking his head.
“Where IS she?” Sulu nearly wailed.
“Nobody at the hotel has seen her,” Tomor said, striding over to the small knot of Terrans. “In fact, Kam, they don’t even remember you checking in with her.”
Sulu stared and Chekov snorted. “That is ridiculous. They must be…”
“No, they’re not,” the Haven interrupted. “No one lies to me if I don’t want them to.”
“Oh god…” Sulu breathed.
“Could someone have mind-whammied them?” Daffy asked dubiously. “You know, like, ‘these are not the droids you’re looking for’?”
Tomor stared at her blankly. Chekov rolled his eyes. “It would take a powerful telepath to do that,” Uhura mused. She turned to Sulu. “Have you tried using the ship’s sensors to locate her?”
“Why didn’t I think of that!” Sulu exclaimed. “Uhura, I could kiss you!”
“You might have been just a little preoccupied, Sulu,” she commented as the First Officer raced to the comm.
“Good luck. There’s gotta be a thousand Indiians on this planet at any given point in time,” Tomor rumbled. “And a good thing he didn’t.”
“Can’t take the competition?” Daffy asked, and fluttered her eyelashes at the Haven’s scowl.
“Dafshka, don’t aggravate him,” Pavel advised.
Ruth was dreaming, not of fire or ethereally thin, leaf-shaped, green beings, or of lost, lonely isolation, or frenzied, misplaced passion, but it was a nightmare nonetheless. She was ice-cold, naked, her left palm burning, with an eerie, distorted, inhuman laughter piercing her soul and the weight of cold anger burning her from both inside and out.
A dream, a dream, a dream! her mind kept screaming at her, but she couldn’t pull herself out of it, couldn’t wake up, couldn’t even form a mental call for help to the warm body that she knew was lying next to her. It shifted in her mind from the comfort of olive green to sun-drenched bronze and she started begging, afraid she was going to betray Spock – Selar – yet again…
Ruth! Dei’larr’ei, wake up!
She gasped, her body bolting out of the bed, her huge eyes wide and staring, the dream vanishing as though it had never been.
“My wife, what is it?” Spock asked.
“I…” She gasped in air, the warmth of the room dispelling her sudden, inexplicable chill. “I don’t know. A dream, I think, but…”
“I was about to ask your pardon for waking you so abruptly, but if you were having a nightmare…”
And you didn’t know?
No, I did not.
Then why did you sound so urgent?
“Sulu has called from Lorelei,” Spock answered, his voice tight with worry. “He wishes us to use the ship’s sensors to…”
Ruth knew even before Spock finished his sentence. “Oh God, Jilla’s missing!” she breathed.
When the four officers and one Haven beamed up to the Enterprise and went to the Bridge, Spock was in uniform, Ruth in a short, multi-colored kimono-like robe. Spock was at the communications station, Ruth at the sensors, her long hair falling around her like a golden waterfall. The captain spoke without preliminaries.
“The records of the Lorelei Port Authority indicates there are currently two thousand, three hundred and twenty-nine Indiians registered to be on the planet, and they were particularly vague about the number of unregistered members of that race there might be, as well as the reasons for such a lack of information.”
“Undocumented workers,” Uhura mused.
“Or underage companions,” Daffy commented.
“Or illegal slaves,” Tomor added.
Chekov frowned at all three ideas.
“Nevertheless, such a large number of Indiians makes it unlikely that a sensor scan will be able to pinpoint Jilla’s lifeform.”
“She’s got unique genetics,” Ruth put in savagely. “If I can narrow the parameters enough…”
Sulu moved next to her. “She has to be in real trouble,” he murmured. “She wouldn’t have just wandered off without telling me.” He paused, his voice becoming more urgent. “Spike, you’ve got to find her!” It was clear Tomor’s comment about ‘illegal slaves’ had gotten to him.
“I know, I’m looking,” Ruth returned, deciding against telling him of her nightmare. If there had been any truth to it…
“Captain, let me have the board,” Uhura said. “I know a few back-channels…”
“And I know a few more,” Tomor offered, showing his teeth.
Spock glanced at his Chief of Communications and the Haven, and rose, taking the few steps to hover over Ruth and Sulu. His hands moved with Ruth’s, each fine-tuning the scan without once duplicating efforts or getting in each other’s way.
“Must be nice to be telepaths,” Daffy called.
“Shouldn’t we be doing something?” Pavel asked her.
“Like what?” the chemist replied. “Leaning out the window and calling, ‘Hey, Jilla!’?”
“Do you suppose Sulu’s run of luck could have been arranged, a cover for whoever abducted…”
“Shhh!” Gollub cut him off. “Don’t give Mr. Lucky any more ideas!”
“I believe the idea of an abduction is already at the forefront of everyone’s thoughts, Miss Gollub,” Spock said without turning from the sensor controls.
“Ears like a bat,” Daffy muttered.
After an hour, Sulu was quietly frantic. He paced between the communications station and the science station without saying a word, arms folded across his chest, fists clenching almost spasmodically. Uhura had had no luck in coaxing any information from her sources. Tomor was seething at the lack of useful data even his best threats was producing. At last, Ruth slammed her hands down on the sensor console.
“Nothing, nothing!” she cried in utter frustration. “Roy, I swear, there’s no trace of her anywhere!”
“I’ve had security people check all the sensor-shielded areas,” Tomor put in. “Even assuring the scum that there’d be no charges filed regardless of what they’re hiding…” He shrugged expansively.
Sulu abruptly dropped to the deck, sitting on the steps that let down to the command chair bay.
“I shouldn’t’ve left her,” he moaned softly. “Oh god, I shouldn’t’ve…”
Daffy and Pavel took seats next to him, the chemist hugging him, the Russian placing a comforting hand on his shoulder.
“So, there’s nothing the great keheil can do?” Daffy asked, glancing up at Ruth. Sulu’s head jerked up.
“Find her Ruth,” he begged. “You can find her mind, can’t you?” The desperation in his voice was as heart-wrenching as the despair in his eyes.
You have been in contact with her often enough, Spock said silently.
With the number of minds on Lorelei… Ruth replied uncertainly.
Surely you can make the attempt.
Yes, but I don’t want to get his hopes up. If I can’t, then what do we do?
“Hey, Kam, I’ll search house to house if I have to,” Tomor was saying. Sulu nodded, but his gaze was fixed on Ruth.
The Antari took a deep breath, and said, “I’ll give it the old Academy try, Roy.”
“Will a focus help, my wife?” Spock asked.
Ruth gave him a brief smile. “You’re brilliant,” she said, then turned to the others. “Okay, this is gonna sound really hokey, but if you could all hold hands and concentrate on Jilla…”
Sulu and Daffy immediately stood, their hands clasping without hesitation. Uhura rose from her seat and took Daffy’s right hand as Spock gently grasped Sulu’s left. Tomor shrugged, pushing himself up from where he’d been leaning at communications, taking Uhura’s right hand. Scowling, Pavel, too, rose, his grip on the Haven’s hand much more tentative than that of Spock’s. Ruth stood behind Sulu, her hands hovering over his shoulders without touching him.
“Okay, now I want everyone to think of Jilla. It doesn’t matter what you think,” she went on as Chekov opened his mouth, then closed it again, “just center your thoughts on her, her being, her presence. When I give the signal, I want you all to mentally call out her name as loud as you can.”
“What signal?” Pavel said and Daffy glared at him.
“Trust me, it’s gonna be obvious, bubee.”
“Concentrate,” Ruth ordered.
After nearly a minute, Ruth took the gathered mental energy, braced herself, and said, “NOW!”, directing the telepathic call to the direction that matched the tumultuous burst of thought and emotion.
Then she fell backwards, hitting her head against the science station as an eerie, cold voice hissed from between her lips.
“Who dares to gainsay ME?”
Ruth found herself in a place of icy mist, with the same malevolence that had been in her dream surrounding her. She could dimly make out Jilla’s naked form, the small, full body rigid, the innocent face set in a tight, angry frown.
Who the hell are you?! the Antari demanded.
The laughter was chilling. You mean to tell me you don’t recognize me, oh great keheil?
Ruth took a deep breath, the cold aching in her lungs. She carefully opened a small portion of her shields, then recoiled with the identification, immediately rejecting it. It can’t be, she’s dead!
Her thought echoed around her.
Not quite, as it turns out, came the response, and it became the sharp, sweetly vicious voice of the former Ensign LiLing. The Oldest – oh, yes, you know them as Silmarils, don’t you? – had other plans for me. She laughed again. Obviously. I rule here, now, Antari. I am the Goddess of Lorelei, and your abilities are nothing next to what I can do.
The truth of that statement was as cold at the air that surrounded her, and Ruth swallowed. And what does a Goddess need with Jilla?
Need? the Goddess replied. Why, nothing at all. In fact, I could snuff out her insignificant little life in an instant, if I had a mind to.
Ruth heard Jilla’s gasp of pain, and she cried out “NO!”
But you have need of her, don’t you? the Goddess rejoined, and the sense of anguish ceased. The voice became ugly. As does her dear, oh-so faithful husband.
Oh god, Sulu…! Ruth breathed.
He is rightfully mine, you know, more than simply because of what our bodies once shared, the Goddess continued. His spirit belongs here. Lorelei is the true home for all his wickedness and decadence and excess, wouldn’t you agree?
No, I wouldn’t, Ruth snarled.
Well, that hardly matters. The Oldest do, and since they – and I – run things… There was the sense of a maleficent shrug.
Let Jilla go! Ruth demanded harshly.
Make me, came the dreadfully amused answer.