Return to Valjiir Stories
Just over two weeks later, at 0130, the Enterprise achieved orbit around Memory Alpha. Tara Ryan had the con, and she immediately contacted the planetoid’s communications center to inform Lieutenant Valley. Within minutes the call came through, the Antari’s request to be beamed aboard. Ryan gave the order to the transporter and quietly called First Officer’s quarters.
Ruth materialized on the platform loaded down with her duffle and her guitar. Ensign Geoff Redford smiled at her. “Welcome home, Lieutenant Valley,” he said.
She stood silently for a moment, just drinking in the familiarity, then said, “Thanks,” and very nearly raced from the room. Redford chuckled wryly, wondering if Commander Spock was asleep, and if so, how long he’d remain that way.
Just inside the door, Ruth quietly put down her pack and her guitar. She tiptoed through her quarters up to the partition that separated the common area from the sleeping quarters. It was closed, and she smiled, silently removing boots, hose, uniform. She released the cord that was holding her hair in a thick braid, shaking her head to loosen the strands, then carefully slid the grillwork aside, closing it again behind her.
To her surprise, the bed was empty. The bedclothes were pulled back, but Spock was nowhere to be seen. Puzzled, she glanced around, then heard the sound of running water. Grinning mischievously she snuck up to the bathroom door, slipping through as it opened, the rushing sound increasing. Her grin widened and she crossed to the shower cubicle, moving quickly inside it.
Strong arms came around her, lips sought and found hers, a hot, long, lean, naked body pressed against her. Spock’s voice growled her name, his hands coming up to entangle themselves in her hair. His mind pushed at hers, demanding entrance and union.
She melted against him, yielding joyfully to his caresses, her thoughts open and enveloping. The water was much too warm for her usual tastes in showers, but the heat and moisture were covering Spock’s skin with a glistening, erotic film and she realized it was hardly intended to get either of them clean. She writhed against him, gasping a little when his hands moved down her back, grasping her buttocks, lifting her from the floor. The penetration was forcefully heady, and she let her head fall back, clinging lasciviously to him as her legs wrapped themselves around his hips. His head bent, devouring the soft flesh of her throat. She responded, rocking eagerly into his thrusts, and his strength supported her as the water cascaded down on their reunion.
Ruth woke, inordinately pleased to be waking up in her own bed, and stretched languorously. Spock lay beside her unmoving, deep in meditation. She chuckled to herself. After the things we did last night, can you blame him for needing to regain a little composure?
She glanced at the chronometer. There was over an hour before First Watch, but she wasn’t the least bit sleepy. She’d had more than enough rest on Memory Alpha, and she had five weeks of news and gossip to catch up on. She was entitled to take a rec day, and she knew Jim wouldn’t begrudge Spock the time off. You’ve probably got a year or two of leave coming to you anyway, she thought affectionately at her husband. And since you’re meditating… What she wanted was a brisk shower – cold this time – and a catching-up chat with Jilla.
She got out of bed, careful not to disturb Spock, and headed for the bathroom.
She checked the chronometer again before leaving her quarters. There was still plenty of time for a leisurely chat over coffee before Jilla and Sulu had to report for duty. And what if they’re up to their usual off-duty recreation?
Hell, they haven’t seen me in five weeks, and they see each other every morning, noon and night. They can do without for one morning. She grinned to herself as she walked the short distance down the corridor to their cabin.
There was no answer to her signal. “Oh come on, you have duty in an hour!” she called and hit the buzzer again. She expected the door to come flying open, followed by Sulu pulling her into a welcome-home hug with Jilla beaming happily. But to her great surprise, it slid only half-way open and Sulu’s voice said a wary, “What?”
Ruth blinked. My, we’re friendly today. “Hey, Roy, am I interrupting?” she asked.
“Ruth?” Was there a note of incredulous dismay in that ‘Ruth?’ “Ah, no. No, you’re not.”
Ruth scowled. “Thanks, it’s good to be back,” she drawled and started to step inside. Sulu moved in front of the door, blocking her. It brought her up short and she stared at him. He was wearing a dark blue kimono she had never seen before. There’s something very odd in all this. “I can’t come in?” she said.
He glanced over his shoulder, and Ruth blinked again. “What do you want?” he asked, his voice low.
“To talk to you and Jilla, if that’s alright with you.”
“She’s not here.”
“Why didn’t you just say so?” Ruth paused, wanting to feel relieved, but her twinging empathy wouldn’t allow it. “Is she on duty already?”
“I don’t know…”
“You don’t…” Ruth stammered. “Sulu, where is she?”
“I don’t know.”
“You don’t know?!” burst from her lips almost involuntarily.
“No, I don’t,” he replied stiffly. “Do I keep twenty-four hour track of her?”
“Yes.”
“Very funny. If you’ll excuse me…” He started to turn and in confusion Ruth grabbed his arm.
“Roy, is there something wrong?” He didn’t look at her. “Sulu…?” she pleaded, and he turned back, his eyes hard.
“Get off my back, Ruth, it’s none of your…” He was interrupted by a soft female voice.
“Sulu-chan, who is that?”
Ruth’s face hardened and her grip on his arm tightened angrily. “That’s not Jilla, is it?” she growled. Sulu pulled away and the door slid shut in front of her.
She stared at the smooth metal for a long minute, then let her fist crash furiously into the door. She whirled around, stalking down the corridor with determined animosity toward Jade Han’s cabin.
Jade sat on her bed, pulling on her boots. She had just enough time to make a quick visit to Jilla’s quarters before they both reported for duty. Her campaign, which had seemed so sensible only three weeks earlier, was becoming a marathon event. She’d spoken to Monique DuBois, Daffy Gollub and Pavel Chekov, as well as Scotty and Noel DelMonde, and, of course, James and Spock and Leonard. They had all reported the same thing. Each encounter with Jilla was becoming increasingly difficult in an entirely unexpected way. With each interaction, Jilla responded more quickly, the sorrowing pain coming more and more easily. Each time, being returned, but each time, it faded just as quickly. Jade had researched Jilla’s complete medical history, and had at last come to understand the Indiian’s confession of having broken her vows four-fold. It was, in fact, what had made Jade believe that forcing emotion on and into her was the key to keeping her alive. The Indiian had been raped after being mindsifted – the third transgression – and while on Canti with no memory of her damnation, she had given herself to one of the inhabitants – which made four. And while it was horrible, Jilla had not faded when faced with the loss of her memory of Sulu. It had to be cultural, and what was culturally indoctrinated could be dismantled. Or so Jade thought. But with the same information coming from everyone she’d asked to help… Jade was no longer sure it was enough to keep Jilla alive. And with that realization, came a bitter acknowledgment: Sulu’s care was likely the only thing that would. It made her determined to study the effects of McCoy’s miracle cure more thoroughly.
Still, this is the only therapy I can give her, she thought to herself with grim determination. And it’s far better than doing nothing.
The insistent sound of her door signal startled her out of her ruminations. Someone was apparently anxious to see her and she found herself hoping it was Jilla. If the Indiian was starting to take initiative again…
“Come,” she called, and heard the door open and shut. She looked up. Ruth Valley stood just inside her cabin door, fists clenched, eyes closed, shaking in obvious rage. Jade rose, managing a “Welcome home, Ruth” before she was cut off.
“Who is it?” the Antari hissed.
“What?”
“Don’t give me ‘what.’ Who is it!?”
“Ruth, are you all right?”
The violet eyes snapped open, blazing with anger. Jade backed a step, certain that if looks could wither, she’d be close to resembling a prune. She swiftly moved to the replicator, got a cup of strong, hot coffee and tried to hand it to the taller woman. Ruth’s fists remained clenched, and with a wry grimace, Jade set the cup down on her desk, sitting beside it. “What’s wrong, Lieutenant?” she asked, folding her arms in a professionally non-belligerent manner.
Ruth took a deep breath. “There’s just one thing I want to know,” she snarled. “Who has that Klingon-fucking bastard got in Jilla’s quarters?”
Not even professionalism could stop the grimace. Jade quickly glanced down. “How did you find out so quickly?” she murmured.
“WHO IS IT!” Ruth shrieked and Jade’s answer came sharp and bitter.
“Ensign LiLing.”
“Li… that goddamned little whore!” Ruth abruptly turned back toward the door and Jade moved, grabbing her arm.
“And just what do you think you’re going to do?” the doctor asked.
“Break every bone in two Asian bodies for a start!”
“Ruth!” Jade said sternly and the Antari stopped, the huge eyes closing again. “Ruth, it won’t do any good. We’ve all tried to reason with him, ever since this started…”
“How long has ‘this’ been going on?” Ruth was smiling, but her voice was icy.
Jade sighed. “My best guess is it started right around the time you left for Memory Alpha. It all came to a head about three weeks ago, and she’s been living with him since…”
“LIVING WITH HIM?!” Ruth roared.
“Oh dear,” Jade rejoined. “You didn’t know?”
Ruth turned to face her, her expression anguished and enraged. “I thought he was just… he threw… Zehara, where’s Jilla?”
Jade’s face twisted in shared lines of pain and compassion. “James gave her quarters on Deck Four. But Ruth,” she added as the Antari turned on her heel, then thought better of it. Perhaps the fresh anger would do Jilla some good. “Across from Uhura,” she finished.
In the turbolift, Ruth tried to calm herself. Going to Jilla a fuming, shrieking maniac might do wonders for her, but it wouldn’t be doing the Indiian any favors. She’ll need to be coaxed, the Antari told herself. You know she’ll be all Vulcan stoic. So approach her with compassion and dignity and quiet grace.
“And just what did that son of a bitch do to you?”
The words were out of Ruth’s mouth before the door to Jilla’s cabin slid closed behind her. The Indiian was sitting on her bed, fully clothed, a silent ghost of a presence. If she hadn’t just called ‘come’ to Ruth’s signal, the Antari might not be at all certain she was alive. There was little reaching Ruth’s empathy, and what was, was distant and icy – billions of eyes, sentience at absolute zero. Goddess, Jilla, no!
“Lieutenant Commander Sulu asked me to vacate his quarters…” the Indiian began.
Ruth strode across the cabin, crouching down in front of the bed. “Jilla, talk to me,” she murmured. She saw the smaller woman wince and the touch of pain stung her empathy. “I know this is killing you,” she went on softly. “Please, let me help.”
“There is no help,” Jilla answered. Her voice stopped abruptly and Ruth waited for her to say more. When she didn’t, Ruth gently pushed at her mind.
And found nothing. There were no thoughts wanting but unable to be spoken. There was barely any awareness, only sparks of being, each a pinprick of sharp pain within her. A growing, empty void was consuming her, only a thin, fading thread holding Jilla’s life from that looming chasm.
No, Zehara, please no! Jilla, don’t leave me!
Indiians need emotion.
The thought seemed to come from somewhere that was both inside and outside of her, the voice deeply familiar, but Ruth didn’t take the time to identify it. She took a deep mental breath, then began steadily willing emotion to fill her mind, aiming it carefully, purposefully at the Indiian. Sudden memory assailed her, Spock’s powerful thoughts forming a mental bridge for her to follow when she had attempted to teleport to the stasis-shielded Enterprise; the same strong mind bringing her from the madness of Joan D’Arc; the pure warmth of joining and union, the brief touch in the shuttle when the cordrazine addiction had left his body, and the fuller, infinitely sweeter completion that had made them husband and wife, far more than any Fleet contract…
She became aware that Jilla’s tia was grasping hungrily at the feel in her mind, but that the need was devastation and anguish in itself. The Indiian’s very being cried for the sustenance, yet rejected it with pain and guilt just as strongly. Goddess, how can I keep you alive?! Ruth cried at her.
Sulu! came the harrowing, soul-wrenching shriek. Then suddenly Jilla was collapsing off the bed into Ruth’s arms, her sobs broken and rasping. Ruth wept with her, but her shared anguish was rapidly returning to rage. She felt Jilla feeling it but refused to let the Indiian recoil. No, get angry at him! Ruth cried within Jilla’s mind. He had no right to do this to you, no reason to back out of all he promised you! That motherfucking son of a bitch should pay for this, Jilla, not you!
The anger was so great that Ruth didn’t wonder about the nature of that thin, fading thread. She only knew that she had to have a talk with Lieutenant Commander Sulu.
She hit the door signal a second time, calling musically, “Oh Sulu.”
The door opened, again only half-way, and Sulu said, “What the hell do you want?”
“To rip your head off, you bastard!” Ruth replied and shouldered her way into the room. She smiled icily at LiLing, who stood at the dresser, arranging her hair for duty. “Hello, Ensign, I’d like to talk to this son of a bitch alone if you don’t mind,” she growled pleasantly.
The ensign turned to her. “Anything you can say to him, Miss Valley, you can say to me.”
Ruth shook with rage, but kept herself under strict control. “Sulu, tell the whore to leave before I do something I won’t regret.”
Sulu grinned pleasantly. “Alright. Would you mind leaving, Ruth?”
Ruth clenched her teeth, her mind burning with sudden pain that she countered with intense hatred. She heard LiLing’s throaty giggle and a blinding smile slowly came over her face. She relaxed her fiercely clenched hands, wishing she could will them into the razor-sharp claws of a courgat. “I meant the active one, Sulu,” she clarified sweetly. “I’m off the market.”
“For now,” Sulu taunted blithely.
“For now,” Ruth agreed. Her voice hardened. “Tell her.”
Sulu casually strolled to LiLing’s side, sliding his arms about her waist. “Do you care what she says, baby?” he asked.
“Not in the least, Sulu-chan,” the ensign replied smoothly. “But I think I’ll stay anyway.” She paused, lightly kissing him. “For the amusement.”
Sulu again turned his gaze to Ruth. “She’s staying,” he said.
“All right,” Ruth returned. “Don’t blame me if she hears some things you’d rather she didn’t.” She was gratified to see the helmsman’s jaw tighten.
“Is it really any of your business, Ruth?” he said from between gritted teeth.
“I’ve made it my business,” she told him. “I want to know why you’re destroying my best friend.”
She was actively listening for and so heard Sulu’s bitter, I thought that was me. The pain and chagrin behind it almost made her feel sorry for him, until she remembered Jilla’s desolate anguish.
“That’s not what this is about,” he said aloud.
“Bets?” Ruth countered fiercely. She let her gaze rest contemptuously on LiLing. “Is what this bitch will do in bed worth what it’s doing to the woman you said you loved?” LiLing’s anger belied her calm, superior gaze and Ruth couldn’t stop the snarl. “Or didn’t you know she’s all he’s lived for the past two years?”
“Past is the important word, Miss Valley,” LiLing retorted smugly.
Sulu’s eyes closed and Ruth jumped on it. “Bets?” she said again. “Ask him, whore!”
“Stop it, Ruth,” Sulu broke in savagely. “You don’t know what it was like.”
“Don’t I?” Ruth challenged.
“Oh, right, I forgot, empath, telepath – who lies through her fucking teeth about not invading people’s privacy!” he snapped, then added, “Or are you saying you don't know how it was?”
It was Ruth’s turn to grit her teeth. “Okay, D’Artagnan,” she hissed. “Tell me.”
Again she listened for his reaction, refusing to feel guilty abut the fact that she was invading his privacy. Guilt, grief, loss and a vicious, self-directed cry of selfish whore filled his mind.
“It never got any easier,” he growled. “Every moment of every day was an emotional battle over something; engines, damnation, sex, Selar, displays of affection, friends, recreation, Spock…” He stopped, sighing. “I lost the war, Ruth. I just fucking gave up.”
“And to hell with her damned soul,” Ruth rejoined tightly. “After telling her you loved her, you would for all eternity, after all the time you spent making her love you, making her dependent on your emotion, your support, after courting her with attention and gifts and promises and …”
“Just like I courted you,” Sulu cut in.
Ruth stared, too outraged to speak. When she finally found her voice again, it was deathly, malevolently dark. “Do you mean to tell me it was a line all the time?”
She had to blink as raw agony tore across his mind, reflected only in the heavy closing of his eyes. If it’s easier for you to believe that, Ruth… But all he said was, “And does it matter?”
Ruth refused to let it go. “And what line did you use to add the dear ensign here to the Collection?” she asked. “How long will it be before you get tired of fucking her and decide to screw her?”
“He’s not about to get tired of me, Lieutenant,” LiLing put in arrogantly.
Ruth only stared at her, snorting in frank disbelief.
“If you’re finished…” Sulu began.
“I’m not.”
“I’m not interested...”
“I don’t care. You put on such a big show of undying affection, you steadily, determinedly seduced her..”
“Which is what someone told me to do!” Sulu shot back.
“…like it was the most important thing in your life,” Ruth went on as if he hadn’t spoken. “You know how she agonized over it, you know what it cost her…”
“And she never let me forget it!” he roared.
“And I told you she wouldn’t!” Ruth roared back. “I told you you had to let her blame you, I told you…”
“And for the love of every god, Ruth, how do I live with the guilt!” They stared at one another, fury and anguish flowing between them. “Can’t you understand?” Sulu said at last. “I can’t live my life in an empty, hopeless charade. Is that really what you want for Jilla? I can’t make her happy, I’m not –“ His voice stopped and Ruth was reminded too strongly of the way Jilla’s voice had done the same thing. He sat down on the bed, rubbing his hands up over his face and through his hair. “There’s nothing I can do, Spike. Just leave it.”
His sorrow pummeled at her senses, forcing tears into her eyes. “I can’t,” she whispered.
“Why not?!” he nearly shouted.
“Because it’s Jilla’s life,” she returned, half pleading, half demanding.
It’s what I’m trying to give her! swept over Ruth's senses and she swallowed. Sulu stood. “I can’t help that," he said. “Dismissed, Lieutenant, and that’s an order.”
“Just out of your quarters or are you dismissing me from your life as well?” she shot back. She turned and left the cabin, not waiting for an answer, unable to determine with any certainty if the tormented confusion was hers – or his.
McCoy’s office door opened with a whoosh and he looked up to see a livid Ruth Valley striding directly to his liquor cabinet. She opened it, reached for a bottle, took a long swig of potent scarlet liquid then slammed the carafe down with nearly breaking force. Her head snapped forward as she shrieked, “God damn it!”
McCoy switched off the tape he was reading and swiveled his chair to face her. “You’ve heard,” was all he said.
“Bones, how could he?!” Ruth exclaimed as she sank into a chair opposite him.
“I don’t know, Ruthie,” he replied, shaking his head. “And I was always so fond of the boy.”
“Except he’s not a boy, he’s a man and he’s responsible for his actions.”
McCoy nodded heavily. “Have you seen Mrs. Majiir?” he asked gently.
“The basket case of Deck Four? Yeah.” The Antari turned a searching, concerned gaze on the doctor. “Is she alright? I mean medically?”
“Medically, as far as Jade and I can determine, yes. Physically, she’s hardly eating enough to keep herself going, and she’s driving herself far past exhaustion. Mentally, god only knows. Emotionally…” he paused, sighing. “Like you said, Ruth. A basket case.”
“Isn’t there anything we can do?”
“Dr. Han’s got a theory about that. What makes Indiians fade when - well, when they’re damned – is the loss of emotional input from those around them. Jade hand-picked a few of us to try and give Jilla the emotions she needs, privately, so her Vulcan pride won’t be as devastated as the rest of her…” He paused again. “Of course, that in and of itself causes her one hell of a lot of pain…” He gazed steadily into the Antari’s huge, saddened eyes. “Ruthie, she’s talked about suicide.”
“Oh goddess…” Ruth breathed.
“In all honesty, I don’t know if anything we do is gonna help her in the long run.”
“It has to, Bones,” Ruth whispered. “It just has to.”
Spock was just turning to the com unit when Ruth returned to their cabin. He had risen from his deep, meditative trance, chastising himself for allowing it. He had not thought Ruth would leave their quarters and had planned on informing her of the situation with Jilla and the Lieutenant Commander before she interacted with anyone else. He had not wanted his avoidance of difficult conversations due to a reluctance to cause his new wife distress to become a habit in their marriage. That was a hurtful enough course in any relationship; between telepaths, it could be disastrous. He hoped he could convince her that, this time, there truly had been no opportunity.
“My wife…” he began.
“I’ve spent the last few hours doing a little reconnaissance,” she interrupted. “I talked to Daffy and Pavel, to Judy and Dav, to M’ress and Mrraal – couples, and by the way, I’m not about to get used to the sound of Sulu and LiLing.”
“I had intended to tell you this morning…”
“And like an idiot, I let you meditate,” Ruth broke in again. She crossed the room, giving him a quick hug. “Not your fault this time, I know.” Then she busied herself with unpacking. Spock watched her, knowing that she needed the excuse to pace angrily.
“I got an official welcome back from Jim, and a not so official one, since he’s in on Jade’s ‘let’s keep Jilla alive’ conspiracy,” she continued blithely as she worked. “Scotty seems to think that now that I’m back, everything’s going to return to normal. Oh, and I got caught up on all the gossip from Uhura. At least the crew’s appropriately caustic on the subject of Lieutenant Commander Schmuck – and the bastard deserves every ounce of animosity he gets.” She stopped, turning to face her husband. “So you don’t really have to tell me anything…”
Her voice stopped. She was trembling. Spock quickly moved to her, taking her into an embrace.
“She’s fading, Spock,” Ruth whispered. “Jim said Jade doesn’t know if we can stop it. Bones said she’s talked about killing herself.” Her sobs broke through and she pressed herself against the Vulcan’s chest. “Spock, what have we done!”
Spock held her, his mind enfolding her as gently as did his arms. What we thought at the time was the right thing to do, he answered her. We both allowed our cultural and personal assumptions to override hers. That it has turned out so grave a misjudgment cannot call our motivations into question.
We should have listened to her.
Yes. But we cannot change the past. All we can do is, again, what we believe is best.
And ignore her beliefs. Again. Ruth’s mental voice was bitter and despairing.
Perhaps, Spock rejoined ruefully. But this time, my wife, I doubt it will change the end result.
By the next morning, Ruth had formulated a plan of action. She wasn’t entirely sure what good it would do – other than ease her desperate need to do something – but she was determined just the same. She’d spent a considerable amount of time with Jilla, feeding the Indiian all her contrition and affection and not a little of her anger at Sulu, and was frightened at how often the nothingness returned to Jilla’s being. She’d studied Jade’s notes on the conspiracy and was at as much of a loss to explain why it wasn’t working as the doctor was. There was only one thing she had noted: anger seemed to have a more lasting effect than either sympathy or warmth.
She spent the first part of her duty shift going over the logs from the six weeks she’d been on Memory Alpha, then approached her subordinate.
“Ensign LiLing,” she said calmly.
The ensign turned from her scanner in the Science Lab. “Yes, ma’am?” was the carefully correct response. It made Ruth bristle. She didn’t like the fact that, despite her personality and her callous disregard of other people’s relationships, LiLing was a very capable officer.
“I note that you managed your share of my duties most efficiently while I was gone,” Ruth rejoined. “Do you intend to make Starfleet a career?” As opposed to home-wrecking, she added privately.
“Thank you, ma’am,” the ensign replied with genuine pleasure that only made Ruth scowl. “Yes, I do.”
“Good.” The Antari turned, picking up a large stack of cassettes. “These reports have to be proofed and coded for transmission to Headquarters by 0800 tomorrow.”
She watched with grim satisfaction as LiLing’s dark eyes stared at tapes. “All of them?” the ensign asked.
Ruth grinned. “Every single one,” she enunciated, then couldn’t stop herself from adding, “Shall I inform Mr. Sulu that you’ll be working late?”
Ice glared up at her. “You’re a bitch, ma’am, but it won’t work.”
“So are you, Ensign, and we’ll see about that.”
“The reports, Ruth?”
“They’ll be done, Spock. I gave them to a very competent officer.”
“Your eyes are smiling.”
“Are they?”
“Ensign LiLing."
“She’ll have to work all night, of course, but a good Science Officer is dedicated to her job. After all, we’ve both pulled our share of marathon watches.”
“Indeed.”
Spock and Ruth sat together in the rec room, relaxing over a game of chess, listening to the quiet strains of Noel DelMonde’s guitar. Ruth felt fiercely exultant. I’m going to make your life a living hell, Sulu, she thought. Let you know how it feels. Maybe if you sleep alone for a few weeks you’ll realize what you had, you bastard!
The music stopped and she looked up. Jilla had entered the room with Monique, obviously reluctantly, and Del was putting his guitar aside, just as obviously heading toward the two women. The Indiian’s reluctance both pained and brightened her; at least Jilla was feeling something.
She returned her attention to the chess board, but her eyes kept wandering to Monique and Jilla and Del. When the French navigator excused herself and left, Ruth began to get worried. She knew Del was a part of the conspiracy, but she wasn’t at all sure how his empathy would react to Jilla’s emptiness, or how Jilla would to his ever-present suffering. And let’s not think about empathy and sensitivity and toes melting, shall we?
Jealous?
Well… maybe a little. But more concerned, she firmly answered the thought.
“Ruth,” Spock’s voice reclaimed her awareness. She grinned contritely at him.
“Just monitoring the conspiracy,” she said. He glanced over her head.
“Indeed?”
No need to be insecure, beloved. I’m just worried for her. If she succumbs to his… She stopped.
Considerable charm, Spock finished for her, and his thought was both reproving and uncomfortable. She decided to ignore it.
I mean, is she really ready for another round of accepting damnation?
You believe that likely?
With how sensitives and empaths react…
Could that not, in the long run, prove beneficial?
Ruth snorted. Not with how much of a foul-tempered son of a bitch he can be.
Yet, if anger, as you have intimated, gives her more being than other emotions…
Spock, he wouldn’t be good for her.
You know him better than I, Spock capitulated, and Ruth did her best to soothe the distress the admission caused him. When she glanced again at the two engineers, she was alarmed to find that Del had his arms around Jilla and that the Indiian’s skin was beginning to glow. She stood up. “Excuse me, I concede,” she told Spock, and crossed the room before her husband could attempt to dissuade her.
“Hi there,” she said as casually as she could manage. Jilla glanced up swiftly and Ruth carefully sent both her worry and her compassion. She heard the Indiian’s breath catch as she moved away from Del’s embrace. “Are you okay?” the Antari asked. She ignored Del’s sudden scowl, and Jilla abruptly went nova. Ruth’s heart leapt joyfully, but she nonetheless turned her attention to DelMonde. “Alright, what did you…” Ruth began again.
“I offer comfort,” Del muttered.
“That’s not what I’d call it.”
“You lost th' right to call it anyt’ing.”
“I know you’re trying to help, but…”
“I help in my own way, Ruth.”
“Ruth, please,” came Jilla’s quiet murmur.
The Antari considered for a moment, then decided to continue her conversation a little more privately. She’s still married, Del, she thought at him as carefully non-judgmentally as she could.
Widowed, came the sharp retort and she knew she had touched a nerve.
She’s Indiian, she countered, her own irritation making it as sharp as his response.
Sulu.
She can’t handle…
Let her tell me that.
“Damn it, Del,” Ruth returned in exasperation, “She’s too vulnerable! Don’t hurt her any more than she’s already been…” She heard Jilla’s gasp and damned her voice, realizing that she’d spoken out loud. And now that you have, so will he, just like you taught him to, she reminded herself disgustedly.
“I not plannin’ on that, babe. I jus’ wan' her to know I here.”
“I know where you want her,” Ruth muttered. Del stiffened.
“It not your business, cher.”
“Ruth, I beg you…” Jilla’s trembling voice pleaded. Ruth turned to her.
“I know him, Jilla,” she said. “He’ll start out with nothing but good intentions, but his demons will get in the way and before you know it…
“You don’ know me like you t’ink,” Del rumbled, “or why you not be ‘spectin’ me when I come aboard, nés pas?” His cutting tone hurt and it made her lash out.
“You bastard…!” she began furiously.
“Jus’ go on back to your husband, an’ leave Jilla to me,” he retorted.
“Leave her alone, son of a bitch, or I swear…”
My wife… Spock’s voice warned in her head.
“Valley, DelMonde, that’s enough!” Sulu’s sudden, stern voice cut in.
Ruth closed her eyes briefly, taking a slow, deep breath. When she looked up, Del was nearly radiating rage and Jilla was again as pale as a ghost, staring silently at the deck. Lieutenant Commander Sulu stood before them, his hands on his hips – and Ruth noted they were balled into tight fists.
“Neither the Captain nor the First Officer appreciate such displays,” the helmsman said, his voice as taut as his fists. “End it – and that’s an order,” he added before Ruth could open her mouth to protest.
“Sure ‘nough, Lieutenant Commander, sir,” Del drawled insolently, then turned to Jilla. “We talk later, cher,” he said, then strolled away. Ruth watched as Sulu’s eyes followed him, both anguish and anger evident in the dark almonds. When his gaze returned, she noticed that he carefully avoided looking at Jilla. Ruth’s own fury settled into cold hatred.
“I’ve got some news for you,” she said to him. He stiffened.
“Oh?”
“Ensign LiLing will be working late – very late.” I’m sorry, Jilla. “Probably from now on.” She smiled, a deliberate imitation of LiLing’s icy expression.
His face hardened and he gave a quick nod in Jilla’s direction. “Her idea?” he asked dryly.
Jilla sobbed quietly and Ruth hissed, “You fucking bastard…”
“No, I didn’t think so.” He took a breath. “You’re open to the same kind of game, Valley. You’re still slated for Command training. Report for security drills at 0800.”
“You can’t do that!” Ruth managed.
“Try not reporting, Lieutenant.” He turned and walked away just as Spock was crossing the rec room. “I stopped the display for you, Commander,” Sulu nearly snapped, and Ruth shuddered at the bitterness emanating from him.