Spock entered his quarters, glad to be rid of Chapel’s incessant whining. He had arranged for her to be needed in medical during second watch, and she had, of course, come to complain and attempt to wheedle a change out of him before glumly reporting to McCoy for duty. The silence in his rooms was a refreshing relief. He had much to concern his thoughts, and he needed to be alone. His probes into Sulu’s past had all come up with information that needed evaluation. He had to assess the last three weeks, indeed, the last year, in that new light. And there was Sumer’s report to Vulcan to be considered, as well as the increasingly surprising well of knowledge and skill contained in Ruth Valley and Jilla Costain.
Takeda Sulu no Jiro, the second son of a Terran military family, one that had given warriors to the Empire for a thousand years and more. As a boy, Sulu had shown an early talent for combat, armed and unarmed. He took the intensive training of the Warrior Elite, and had, according to Terra’s records, earned the swords which graced his quarters. His instructors had had nothing but praise for him - until the age of fourteen. Then, there were increasing comments suggesting that the boy was not developing a sense of the propriety so necessary in a proper servant of the Empire. It was observed that Sulu’s fellow students were beginning to think he lived simply because no one had yet found a way to kill him. All this coincided with the beginning of Sulu’s relationship with the late Ducé, Ruis Calvario.
Calvario had a reputation for gathering young nobles to him and introducing them to the various and depraved pleasures that could be had through the use of influence and power and status. He was nouveau riche, having married into his title and his position as Ducé of Haven. His widow, Duchessa Loki Monolem-Calvario, had not yet found another to take the title.
It was at this time that Sulu’s penchant for sadism began making itself known. It was also at this time that he became a lone wolf, deserting all his former contacts, relying solely on Calvario. Spock noted with interest that one of the young nobles who was ‘adopted’ by Calvario at this time was one Jeremy Maurice Paget. How had Paget, a nobles’ son, come to be the bodyguard for a disgraced samurai?
For Sulu was disgraced. He had earned his swords, and then had broken the code of the Warrior Elite by using them to kill Ruis Calvario. Duchessa Calvario herself had forsworn vengeance, and had accepted Sulu’s banishment from the service of the Imperial Court as sufficient blood price. His family had disowned him, and he had joined Fleet as the only place left to him.
Spock settled back in his chair, his fingers steepled in thought. This information had come at a steep price; the bribes had cost him nearly the whole of his share of Halkan dylithium for the past six months. The official record said only that Sulu had been disowned for ‘dishonoring’ his family, with no mention of his association with Ruis Calvario, or, as Spock suspected, with the Duchessa. But there was another interesting incident detailed in the sources he had tapped. When Sulu was sixteen, there had been a number of unpleasant public confrontations involving Rigel’s Prince - Noel DelMonde. Sulu had, in fact, tried to kill the Prince. Sulu’s words echoed in Spock’s memory: “We played together as children.” Did you indeed? Spock mused. There was a scandal connected with a needle race and Tarkus, and it was immediately afterwards that Sulu had returned to Terra, had passed the final trials to earn his swords, and had killed Calvario. And it was from that time on, as far as Spock could discern, that Sulu was a changed young man, though no one seemed to notice it. Spock could hardly blame them; he himself had not, until recently, seen more than the careful facade Sulu presented. Sulu was still the lone wolf, still unmindful of propriety, but his sadism became more intense, and those subjected to it less frequently came out alive. He absorbed Starfleet security training with a relish his instructors had never before seen. He became a model officer; loyal until his superiors showed weakness, then pouncing on that weakness with unequaled savagery and unequaled joy. His assignment to the Enterprise gave him the room he needed to build his power base. And build it he did, quickly, efficiently, with terror and the macabre beauty of his hungry, eager cruelty.
Yet through it all, Spock sensed something wrong, something slightly amiss. There was something important about this man which had escaped everyone who knew him. His cunning was so well hidden - that it was believed he had none. His sadism masked the care he lavished on his victims. His brash opportunism belied the patience and watchful manipulation which kept him perfectly in control of his faction. No one had yet been able to kill him, because he knew his enemies while appearing to live only for his pleasures. He was the perfect Imperial son - did not the Empire hold thousands of separate parts, all watched, all monitored, and ready for use at a moment’s notice?
Spock’s mouth fell uncharacteristically open, his mind nearly reeling with the implications. He has used us all, while making us believe we use him. How has this incredible cleverness escaped me? Because I am trained to see Imperially, and Sulu’s mask holds no secrets. Why probe an open mind? Yet...
How did it happen?
How is it possible that this son of the Empire’s most elite warrior-race became not a puppet, but a master? How many puppets does he have? How did he make them? And why? Had he wanted the captaincy of this ship, he could have had it - long ago. What is it that he wants?
“Because I’d really hate to kill him.”
Spock sat up straighter. DelMonde. It had to be something concerning DelMonde. But what? Why would Sulu hate to kill the Don of Rigel, when he had tried to kill the very same man as a Prince? What did Sulu owe him? Or - what did he owe Sulu?
His mind suddenly went to Sumer and his report from Vulcan on the Don’s petition for a discreet alliance. Vulcan approved, with due caution. Sarek had informed his son of the new status through Captain Sesek. But Sumer had mentioned a problem that the Don would appreciate help with - fighting ships, small ones. Shuttle-sized, with warp capability, to be stinging gnats to the Empire’s heavy cruisers. A new technology was required, and the Don, of course, had turned to Vulcan.
Why had he thought of that?
The Don to Sumer to Vulcan to Sarek to Sesek to Spock - to the Enterprise, and Sulu. Spock chuckled. You asked the wrong question, Jim. Sulu may know the Don, but the Don knows Sulu; I suspect far better than you or I could ever hope to. Ask Sulu, and Sulu will deliver, is that it, DelMonde? Caros, Halkan, Draco, the Artemis, the Intrepid, the Enterprise...
And new technology.
It hasn’t been a game, by all the gods, Sulu isn’t playing games with toys!
Spock quickly went over the past three weeks. Costain and Valley had recovered quite rapidly from the confused state Sulu had exhibited so proudly. Spock himself had carefully increased the complexity of the work he gave them, gauging their skill. Their limits hadn’t been reached, and he had run out of conventional technology. Sulu had let them recover, even setting up a lab room just for them. Spock knew how easily the Security Chief could have kept them despairing and helpless. He must have wanted their recovery. Why?
For DelMonde.
Far better to let them find it themselves, to be able to work as themselves if one wanted creativity rather than beasts of burden.
Why did I not see it? I didn’t know of DelMonde. But still, why? Why does Sulu deliver to the Don? I must find out. There must be a way to crack that so very deceptive mind.
The answer was absurdly simple. All Spock would need was to get Sulu alone and off guard. The mind link would then do the rest.
Except that to get Sulu alone and off guard is a task that will not be as easy as I once thought, Spock reminded himself. He will be wary of me. He no doubt has been for some time. And he is dangerous enough that what I do must be swifter than even he can react to. But how to overcome his cunning? Absorb his mind with something else. But what? Emotion, temper. He does not think when enraged; remember Darius and Rand’s broken jaw. But it lasts only seconds. Would that be enough? I need only touch his temples. How, what will evoke that rage?
Spock’s mind gave him a picture of Sulu’s fist striking his shoulder. Why? How did that connect with the problem at hand? It was an expression of anger. At what? Kirk. Why? He had crawled, or so Marlena had said. But in Spock’s opinion, Sulu would never crawl. But he might appear to, given reason. Had Kirk given him reason? Marlena said it had probably saved Costain’s life... Had Sulu known - does he truly monitor the entire ship? - and had he done it to save her?
His own thoughts returned to him: His sadism masks the care he lavishes on his victims. It was the only answer.
He can be provoked. It only remains for me to determine how best to accomplish it.
Before he had time to consider the matter more fully, the door hissed open and he looked up to see Sepak’s bewildered face. His guard began to speak.
“Commander...” His eyes shifted slightly as Marlena pushed past him. “Lieutenant Moreau,” he announced and the door slid shut behind her.
“Spock, we have big trouble,” she said breathlessly.
He was already on his feet, coming toward her. “What?” he asked harshly.
“Sulu’s just killed Farrell, and if we don’t do something, he’s going to kill Jim.”
Farrell hadn’t told Kirk anything he didn’t already know. Still, he nodded and thanked his bodyguard. The man smiled broadly and waited for the expected reward.
Now, what is it worth, Kirk thought, this news of exactly how Uhura is spreading dissension among the crew? And the news of where she’s getting her information: from Rand. Who’s getting it from Paget. Who got it from Sulu. What is it worth, getting outside confirmation that Uhura’s being fed exactly what we want her to know, and is buying it?
He considered. Farrell was loyal. He hadn’t once been swayed by temptation in all the years he had worked for the Captain. He wasn’t very bright, but he was a strong man, perfect for the job of personal guard. Kirk trusted him, and he deserved something special.
Kirk smiled, remembering the looks Farrell gave Costain and Valley when they reported to the Captain’s cabin. Special, yes. A whole night of special. That would certainly please Farrell. “Which one do you want?” he asked.
Farrell didn’t pretend to misunderstand. “The little silver one,” he answered eagerly.
Kirk shrugged. “Not my choice, but...” He strode over to the com. “I’ll arrange it.”
Sulu finished with Rand quickly. All he’d wanted was some fast satisfaction. He had a lot of work to do. He had to prepare good, solid, and utterly facetious reasons to get Kirk to allow his girls access to equipment for a special project - warp shuttles and, if possible, a working sensor screen. Invisible warp shuttles would be better than ones that could get picked off by a skillfully targeted phaser. And if he was to get that kind of creativity out of Ruth and Jilla, he had to deal with the fact that they had seen Diane Jaris.
He told Rand to make herself scarce as he left for Ruth and Jilla’s quarters.
He found them sitting on Ruth’s bed, not looking at each other, their grey and purple eyes haunted. They glanced up as the door slid shut behind him, and there was the expected love and joy at the sight of him, but there was a hollow terror as well. He shook his head ruefully. We can’t have that, can we, my angels? He crossed the room, squatting on the floor next to the bed, taking, kissing Ruth’s right hand, Jilla’s left.
“Ask,” he said.
“Ja - Jaris...” Ruth stammered.
“Yes, mine,” he replied. He felt the shudder run through them both.
“Will we be like she is?” Jilla’s voice was barely audible.
“How is she?” he asked.
“Empty!” Ruth groaned despairingly. “Did you take it all from her, did you make it not real?” Her voice was a near-hysterical demand.
“Did I?”
Ruth sobbed. “Yes!” she cried.
“Should it have mattered?”
She stared at him, then lowered her eyes, tears falling to her cheeks. “No, you goddamned bastard.”
Sulu leaned forward, softly kissing Ruth’s temple. “Bitch,” he whispered to her and she sobbed again, holding tightly onto his hand.
“She - she loves you,” Jilla broke in, softly weeping. “And I - Ruth - we love you...”
Sulu turned his attention to her. “I know,” he said. “I made you.”
Her reply was fiercely sincere, yet aching. “It doesn’t matter. I love you.”
“She frightens you. She wasn’t enough. All you have to do is be enough.”
“Am I?” A fearful plea, with no pride and no presumption.
He smiled gently. “For now, yes.”
Jilla’s grey eyes gazed at the deck, then she asked, her voice small and hesitant, “Do you love me?”
He let the joy surround him as he pulled her down onto the floor and into his arms, kissing her. He glanced up at Ruth, and she came, curling tightly around him.
They stayed that way for several minutes, and when Sulu rose, the ghosts in their eyes had vanished. He smiled and helped each of them to their feet, then headed for the door.
“Stay,” Ruth whispered.
“You don’t need it,” he told her.
“I want it,” she replied, her face and voice teasing. He laughed softly.
“I’ve got work to do, hon.”
She sighed, but still smiled at him.
“Goodnight,” Jilla called quietly, and the intercom buzzed.
“Miss Costain, if you would report to my quarters,” Kirk’s voice said. Sulu saw the flicker of fear in Jilla’s eyes.
“Of course, sir,” she answered.
“All you have to do is be good to the Captain tonight, Jilla,” he said to her as she moved past him to the door. She nodded, her eyes shining gratefully. He said goodnight to Ruth, then left the room.
Yes, my angels. I love you.
Jilla lowered her eyes, but smiled demurely at Allison as he announced her and escorted her through the door to Kirk’s cabin. She was anxious to reaffirm her worth, to do as Sulu had said and be good to Captain Kirk. He had known she and Ruth needed him, he had come; god, savior. She was determined to make him very proud of her.
She saluted Kirk, then slipped delightedly into his arms. He accepted her kiss with a smile, then put her away. It was only then that she noticed Farrell.
“Jilla,” he stated, “You know my personal guard, Mr. Farrell.”
Jilla stared. The large man was oozing carnal desire, an almost bestial depravity. She shivered. Kirk turned to him. “Take her,” he said. “You’ve got all night.”
Panic screamed in Jilla’s mind as Farrell grasped her arm, pulling her behind him. She didn’t fight him, she couldn’t, but his lust was beating a helpless fear into her, eating away her being. In the turbolift, he kissed her, his tongue sloppy in her mouth, his large hand nearly crushing her breast. She moaned, her body responding helplessly, her mind straining to fend off the relentless arousal. One thought kept burning into her mind: “All you have to do is be good to the Captain.” And this wasn’t the Captain.
Once in his quarters, Farrell told her to strip. Her mind sobbed in anguish as she feverishly obeyed the animal need pounding at her from his being. Terror was consuming her. Sulu had said the Captain, he would be angry, she wouldn’t be enough, he’d make her like Jaris, ruined, empty, lost forever...
Farrell grabbed her, throwing her onto his bed. His body was oily and hard, and he groped at her flesh with brutal hunger. She cried out, responding still, feeding his savage passion. “You like it rough,” was whispered hoarsely in her ear, and Farrell began hitting her, bruising her while his arrogant laughter seared desolation into her soul.
Sulu made a thorough check of the ship before returning to his quarters. He entered a few subtle suggestions into the inventories of the science labs, adjusting for things Ruth and Jilla would need once he got permission for the shuttles. And he wanted to give Kirk a little time to get into it before checking on Jilla. She’d been uneasy, and he wanted to make sure she was pleasing the Captain.
Rand was gone when he entered, and he smiled. Stupid Janice. She was trying a new tactic of late - humble obedience. It didn’t increase her attractiveness. Not that anything could when I have Ruth and Jilla to compare her to, he thought with a chuckle. He went to his desk, adjusting his personal screens for Kirk’s quarters. The image crackled with the static of a personal shield, then resolved to reveal Kirk relaxing on his bed. Alone. Fully clothed.
Where was Jilla?
He couldn’t’ve been through with her that quickly. Unless she hadn’t been willing. Impossible. There had been no call to Security, and Kirk was obviously not angry. What in Tartarus was going on?
A shudder went suddenly through him, his instincts warning of - what? Think. What is it that’s wrong? Jilla, something with Jilla, obviously, but...
“Jim, where’s Farrell?” Marlena’s voice said from the screen. She had just entered the room.
“I gave him the night off,” Kirk replied. “He’s confirmed that Uhura’s buying everything we’re selling.”
Marlena smiled. “Good. The sooner she makes her move, the better.” Kirk nodded. “I hope you rewarded him.”
“Sure did,” Kirk replied as he sat forward, taking one of the glasses of wine Marlena held out. He took a sip. “With Costain..”
Sulu didn’t hear or see Marlena’s reaction. The fury had been building since Kirk had said Farrell had the night off. It had blinded him with Marlena’s ‘I hope you rewarded him.’ He hadn’t needed Kirk to tell him how.
She belongs to me, you stupid, arrogant jackass! How dare you, you son-of-a-bitch, how dare you give away what is mine!
He was out the door and heading for the turbolift before another second had passed.
Farrell didn’t hear the sound of the door. The huge bodyguard was behind Jilla, pinning her to the bulkhead, moving in her with demonic brutality. His arm was held under her throat, choking her with each thrust. One of her arms was wrenched back between their bodies, the other hung useless, swelling and discolored. Blood trickled from the corner of her mouth and sparkled between her thighs. She was sobbing, a sound of quiet desperation, responding helplessly, Sulu knew, to Farrell's lascivious emotion. Her face was turned to the doorway, and when she saw Sulu, she gasped, her sobs turning to open, gagging cries.
Sulu had his dagger drawn in an instant. His face was a mask of savage anger, his black eyes burning with hatred and searing fury. It was the last thing Farrell ever saw. Sulu grabbed the man by the back of the neck, pulling him away from Jilla, and slit his throat with one vicious slash of the blade.
The blood poured out over Farrell’s chest as Sulu flung the body to its back. Jilla had fallen to her knees on the deck and was crying hysterically, trying to curl into a ball. Sulu pulled her into his arms. He held her in a tight embrace, heedless of her injuries, letting the rage and adrenaline in his body pour itself out in waves of trembling relief. Slowly, he became aware that she was pleading with him, her frightened tears soaking his uniform. She had tried to be good, she said, but he had said the Captain. Farrell wasn’t the Captain. Farrell hurt her, she felt the lust, her body betrayed her, she was afraid, he’d be angry, she wasn’t enough.
In agony, Sulu remembered his words. This was his fault, his! He hushed her, soothing her, telling her it would be all right. She was good, she was enough. She was right, he’d said the Captain and Farrell wasn’t the Captain. He wasn’t angry, it wasn’t her fault, Farrell had raped her, it wasn’t her fault.
Rape.The word burned into him and he furiously turned aside the horrible memories that seared his soul. He knew that her response, her inability to fight, didn’t change it. Kirk had allowed that vulgar barbarian to rape his precious, silver angel. Damn him, the gods damn that arrogant, overbearing, brainless jackass! The rage returned full force and Jilla clung to him, trembling.
He looked up at Paget’s fearful voice. “Sir, the Captain...”
“To Tartarus with the Captain, Jeremy!” he spat. He stood, swinging Jilla’s still sobbing form into his arms. He kissed her, fierce, fevered, then eased her into Paget’s arms. “It’s all right, little one,” he told her, then spoke to Paget. “Take her to my quarters.”
Paget swallowed. “Yes, sir. Sir, where -- “
Sulu was out the door before he could finish.
Paget closed his eyes for a moment. If there were gods other than the one who just left this room, he thought, I’d be praying like there was no tomorrow. By Tartatus, there may not be. If Kirk kills him... I’m in enough trouble as it is. I should’ve stopped him. But somebody had to switch off those damned screens.
He glanced at Farrell’s body, very glad that he’d never done more than think about taking one of the Boss’s treasures to bed. This stopped even the thought cold.
Never, not for a million promotions. Dead men cared about very little.
So I suggest you get your ass moving to protect Sulu’s.
He turned, casting a final glance at Farrell. A real shame, Al. I may just live to forget you. I know Sepak will. He left the room, moving hurriedly to the turbolift.
Rumor had it, according to the deck guard who reported to Uhura, that there were some interesting happenings on the crew deck. Al Farrell, the Captain’s chief bodyguard, had been seen taking Costain into his quarters. Fifteen minutes later, Sulu had come charging out of the turbolift, straight for Farrell’s room. The deck guard had seen this much and had decided that discretion was safer and had gone to report what he had seen. Uhura decided to go for a stroll on the crew deck. In passing, she happened to look into Farrell’s cabin and saw his naked, blood-soaked body. She smiled. Someone, she thought, had better tell the Captain.
Sepak hadn’t paid any attention to Costain, or to Farrell’s leaving the Captain’s quarters with her. Sulu’s arriving at his cabin after Rand had left them was none of his business. He was instantly alert when, minutes later, Sulu bolted angrily out into the corridor, but he relaxed when the Security Chief got into the turbolift. However, he was intrigued at the worry on Paget’s face when the TerAfrican stepped into Sulu’s quarters momentarily, then followed his Boss.
His curiosity was sharpened when Sulu returned, apparently casually, but with ebony coals for eyes, and tried to saunter past Allison. The guard, of course, turned to inform the Captain. Sulu felled him with one savage blow. Curiosity became more than alert concern, and he turned to relay the obvious indications of serious trouble to the Commander. He noted Paget’s return, with a battered Costain, to Sulu’s quarters, as the door to Spock’s cabin opened.
“Commander,” he began, and suddenly Kirk’s door opened and Marlena Moreau was racing past him, straight into Spock’s quarters. “Lieutenant Moreau,” he said quickly, so as not to leave Spock wholly unwarned. The Commander’s eyes acknowledged the attempt, and the door slid shut on Moreau’s, “Spock...”
Sepak turned, every sense acute, and Paget rushed past him. “Jeremy...” he began.
“The Chief killed Farrell,” Paget said. “If I live, we’ll celebrate later.”
Sepak blinked, then moved quickly aside as the door opened once more and Spock and Moreau headed for the Captain’s quarters.
When the door opened, Kirk assumed it was Allison. He set his glass down, turning from Marlena to the door.
“Kirk!” Sulu’s voice snapped, thick, threatening, a hiss of rage and menace.
Kirk realized he wore no weapon, then realized he was going to die. Somehow he managed to face his executioner.
But Sulu held no phaser, no dagger or agonizer. His fists were clenched, the knuckles white.
“You stupid son-of-a-bitch, I should kill you now!” Sulu spat. Kirk’s fear vanished into stirrings of anger. “You haven’t got the intelligence to run a harem of port whores! Just where in Tartarus do you get off thinking you can hand my women to whomever you fucking please? They’re mine, Kirk, mine, and I tell them who to fuck, and the list doesn’t include your ape of a bodyguard!”
“Mister,” Kirk growled warningly, “who the fuck do you think you’re talking to?”
“A brainless jackass?” Sulu retorted with a cynical smile.
Kirk’s fury grew. “If I give your women orders, they obey,” he snarled. “Just like you do, peacock.”
“Your orders cross me and people die,” Sulu snarled back. “Just like that fool, Farrell.”
“What?” Kirk asked, dark and menacing.
“You heard me, jackass. My women are carefully programmed. They fuck me, Spock, and you, and if you don’t start showing some modicum of intelligence, that number goes down to two!”
“Does it?” Kirk interrupted. Sulu’s smile was glittering ice.
“The same way Farrell went,” he assured smoothly. Neither he nor Kirk had noticed Moreau’s edging toward the door, or her swift exit. “You nearly killed her with your presumption, you witless imbecile,” Sulu went on savagely, “and the only reason you're not lying on the deck in your own fucking blood is because she isn’t and Farrell is. Do you get my drift, Captain?”
Kirk stared at the reckless hatred and contempt in Sulu’s eyes. The fear had started to return, and he covered it with a cold, casual move toward the intercom. Sulu laughed.
“Call Security, Kirk, see how far that gets you.” He turned his back as the door opened admitting Paget, who halted abruptly. “Take care of the mess on the crew deck, Jer,” Sulu said, and Spock and Moreau appeared in the doorway. Kirk was reaching for his dresser and the weapons that rested there.
“Captain...” Spock began.
“The Captain’s a fool,” Sulu spat, and moved past the Vulcan.
Spock and Moreau exchanged swift glances, and Moreau turned, going after Sulu.
In the frantic haste on Deck Five, Uhura’s presence wasn’t even noticed. Everyone seemed to be converging at Kirk’s quarters, and, for a moment, Uhura was afraid there had been an assassination. Then Paget opened the door to Kirk’s cabin. Uhura could see Sulu and Kirk, then her vision was blocked as Spock and Moreau appeared, racing through the door, then Sulu’s harsh, contemptuous voice said, “The Captain’s a fool.”
The Chief of Security strode out into the corridor, Paget behind him, Moreau behind him. The door closed and Sepak positioned himself outside it. Sulu and Moreau disappeared into Sulu’s quarters, and Paget hurried past her without seeing her. Uhura quickly moved down the corridor, back toward the turbolift, blessing Sulu and Farrell’s death. The solidarity was broken again, and this time, she wasn’t going to miss the opportunity.
With the door of Sulu’s cabin safely closed, Marlena grasped his arm, her voice pleading. “Sulu, what are you doing?”
Sulu pulled away from her, ignoring her, going instead to the trembling silver form that lay on his bed. Moreau watched with awe and fearful wonder as he enfolded Jilla in his arms, holding her with fierce protectiveness. He murmured softly to her, words Marlena couldn’t make out. The Indiian clung to him, her sobbing joyful and relieved, and he finally pulled gently away. He moved to his dresser, returning with an antiseptic cloth, bandage applicator, and several hyposprays. Marlena felt slightly sick. She had known Farrell was a brute, but he had had Costain for less than half an hour. The extent of the damage inflicted in that short amount of time was horrifying.
Sulu carefully, tenderly cleaned and dressed her wounds, giving anti-swelling agents at her throat and arm, injecting her with what Marlena hoped was a powerful painkiller. Then he lifted her, pulling the bedcovers back, tucking her safely within the blankets like a father would his child. “Sleep,” he told her. “Call if you need me.” He whispered something Marlena could not hear, then got up, walking past her to the living area.
Marlena followed, and he slid the dividing grid shut, then faced her, his eyes black holes in an unreadable mask.
You love her, Marlena thought with disconcerted wonder. You love her, and Valley, too, don’t you? Not as tools, not as pets, you care. By the gods, Sulu, can you love? She felt a well of hope stirring inside her, and she suddenly wanted to know the complexities and strange, miraculous workings of the mind of a sadist who loves. But she stopped the words, the awe-filled question, remembering that he was Imperial. Love was something a smart woman never accused an Imperial man of. She blinked away the sight she had just been privy to, and hesitantly stepped toward him.
“What Jim did,” she began, “it was stupid. If I had known, I would have tried to talk him out of it. But it’s hard for him, Sulu, hard to remember that his pets are yours. And he didn’t know, he couldn’t’ve known what it would do to her, what Farrell would do to her.”
“He knows all about rape, Marlena,” Sulu said coldly, and she flushed, realizing that he knew about the night before Caros.
“But he didn’t know it would be rape,” she countered deferentially. “He thinks she’s a willing whore, for anyone, especially for someone he suggests. Sulu, you can’t condemn him for ignorance.”
“Somebody should,” was Sulu’s sharp retort.
“Somebody should teach him,” Marlena said gently. “Spock is trying that now. Sulu, please, you can’t let this...”
“I can’t let him,” Sulu broke in angrily. “He’s tried three times, Marlena, three times to ruin what I worked so hard to give him. I can’t work with a stupid, insensitive, brute jackass!”
“Sulu, he doesn’t know!” Marlena pleaded.
“Then to Tartarus with the moron!”
Marlena shuddered, afraid. Sulu was revealing too much. When he realized it, he’d have to excise it from her. Please, Sulu, I don’t want to know your secrets, I only want you to listen, to think! “Sulu, do we need him?” she asked desperately.
“Do we need them?” he shot back.
“Yes,” she began.
“Tell the jackass,” he said.
“Spock is. If you’d left them any protection of their own, it wouldn’t be necessary!”
Sulu smiled slowly, but Marlena didn’t see it. A new thought had come into her head, a daring one, possibly dangerous, but certainly no more dangerous than what already existed.
“Sulu,” she said suddenly, “we can give them a shield, against Jim or anyone else.” She looked directly into his eyes. “Tell them. Tell them we know where they’re from. Tell them what we’re trying to do.” Her face was shining. “Give them back their Federation.”
She watched the swift consideration in Sulu’s eyes. She saw the desperate need to protect the women he loved. She saw the realization that, if they knew they didn’t have to play at being Senatorial whores, they could fight without fear. And she saw something else, something she couldn’t begin to understand, but something which made the decision for him.
He slowly nodded. “Yes,” he said, then grinned at her. “I’ll even apologize to the jackass.”
Before she knew it, she had thrown her arms around him and he was kissing her with a warmth and a passion that quickly took her breath away. She smiled up at him. His eyes were hungry, filled with tempting, commanding fire. “Come on, Marlena,” he whispered. There was a greedy plea in his voice, but she was too mesmerized to be frightened. She felt her body yielding, melting to his, her eyes closing as his head bent for another, deeper kiss. His hands moved over her back and sides, knowledgeably arousing, reaching for the fastening at the side of her halter.
A whimper came from the other side of the grill. Sulu let her go, turning, sliding the grid open, going to Jilla.
By the time he returned, Marlena had regained her composure, the moment of naked submission fading. “We have to tell Spock and Jim,” she said. “We have to convince them.”
“Of course,” Sulu replied, but there was a promise in his gaze that sent shivers through her. He moved to the door. “Shall we?”
“Will - she - be all right?”
“Jer will be back soon. He knows what to do.”
She nodded, not knowing that her concern for Jilla had answered his promise with one of her own, and they left the cabin together.