DISCLAIMER: The Star Trek characters
are the property of Paramount Studios, Inc and Viacom. The story contents are
the creation and property of Djinn and are copyright (c) 2006 by Djinn. This
story is Rated R.
Uneasy Alliances
by Djinn
"Have you thought about
your next assignment?" Admiral Bosson was smiling at her.
He seemed to be happy over the way things had turned out, even if Spock
had not been.
"Yes." She slapped a padd down on his desk.
He read it quickly, looked up
at her with dismay written on his features. "Retirement?"
She nodded.
"Christine, you should
rethink this. After that last
assignment, there's nowhere you can't go if you want to."
"There's nowhere left I
want to go, sir."
A lie. There was one place. And it lay deep within the Klingon empire.
"Think about it. Don't make an emotional decision." He handed the padd back to her. "Bring it back tomorrow and I'll approve
it."
"I've had nothing but
time to think about it. This is what I
want."
She'd passed Spock in the
halls. He'd acted like she wasn't
there. She could see a lifetime of that
kind of behavior looming.
He pushed the padd away. "Christine. There's something you don't know. Spock took Valeris's
death very hard."
"Oh, sir, I know
that." Hard--like the pummeling he'd put her body
through.
"Let me finish. You don't know the rest. He's...he's making overtures toward a Romulan
diplomat. I worry that this man could
become an influence over Spock, now that those he cared about are gone."
Funny how
she wasn't in that group. Despite everything. "And you think I can change that?"
"Spock chose you for
that mission for a reason, Commander. I
think he'll choose you again if you let him.
He needs you. We need you. And I don't have to tell you what a valuable
asset he is to us."
No, he didn't have to tell
her that. She'd given her body to save
that valuable asset.
Well, and maybe to assuage the guilt. Even if she shouldn't have felt guilty. She'd completed her mission. Starfleet had been fine with her methods,
even if Spock hadn't.
"Starfleet as
matchmaker. Who'd have thought
it?" She reached over, pushed the
padd to him. "I'm not interested in
Spock's future, Admiral. Only in my
own."
He stared up at her; she
stared back. She tried to imitate a
Klingon warrior. Tried to throw
everything that was dark and dangerous into her expression, into the way she
stood.
He finally approved her
request.
She grabbed the padd before
he could change his mind. "Thank
you, sir."
"Where will you go,
Chapel? Your life is hardly over."
"You're right, sir. My life is just beginning."
She walked out to the
corridor, out to the windows that lined the hallways that were home to the
upper, upper brass. She pulled the
communicator out of her jacket pocket, flipped it open, and waited.
"Where are
you?" Rotakh's voice sounded as if
he was standing right next to her.
"Earth."
"Do you wish to change
that?"
"Yes."
"Good." He gave her a string of coordinates. She recognized it as the planet with the bar
and the patron who'd taken exception to her.
The planet that strode the line between Federation and
Klingon space.
"What if that man
objects to my presence there, again?'
"I expect you to take
care of him if he does. I will not
always protect you."
No, she imagined that once
she was on his home world, she would have to become adept at protecting
herself--or at least standing up for herself.
"I don't need you to protect me."
"Good. I want a parMach'kai who can carry her own
weight."
"I know." She closed her eyes, wanted to ask him to say
that word again. It meant so much more
than he'd said. It meant...hope.
"Did he hurt
you?" His voice was guttural. As if he would come through the communicator
and make Spock pay if she said yes.
"No." It was a lie, but only a small one. Spock hadn't hurt her any more than Chapel
had already hurt herself.
"When will you be there,
Christine?"
"I'll need to settle my
things here." Settle them
permanently. "Give me a week."
"I'll give you five
days."
She smiled. "Five days, then."
"Qapla'," he said,
satisfaction evident in his voice.
"Qapla'," she
murmured, as she cut the connection and went to sever old ties.
Forever.
*********
--14 days earlier--
The ground was cold and hard,
and Spock's hands were relentless as they pressed her into it. She closed her eyes, tried to ignore the way
he was pounding at her.
His mind was no longer linked
with hers. Thank God his mind was no
longer linked with hers. If she'd had to
listen to him call out Valeris's name one more
time...
She thought he was doing it
to punish her.
He finished and rolled off
her. "It is finished."
She felt a wave of
relief. Reaching for her tricorder, she
checked him. "It's not finished."
"I can control it from
this point." He did not look at
her, seemed to be trying to meditate.
"Spock, I don't think
you can." She touched him and saw
him shudder.
"I do not want
you."
"Yes, you've made that
abundantly clear." She slid her hand
down his body, down and down until he caught her up and pulled her to him with
what sounded like a hiss of disgust.
The next time he let her go,
he got up and stalked off into the woods.
She made her way to the shuttle, using the shower in the little bathroom
to clean herself up as best she could.
As she stared in the mirror, she fingered the scar on her neck.
If she tried hard enough, she
could see herself bathed in reddish-purple interior lights, could imagine a
cold metal cup in her hand, taste the blood wine running down her throat. She could bring back hands that were rough
and warm, not smooth and hot, as they played over her skin.
She heard Spock come in; his
silence as he waited in the shuttle destroyed the fantasy. She pushed down on the scar, knew that Spock
had done his best to avoid touching it during the sex. At least Spock hadn't marked her the way he
had Valeris. Forever. Whether she'd wanted it or
not.
She opened the bathroom door,
stood staring at him. "Spock,
I--"
"If you are done, let me
pass."
She flushed, felt the sting
all the way into her insides, where he'd been not too long ago. She moved out of his way, let him have the
bathroom. She heard the shower go on. He was in there a long time.
Scrubbing her off him. The same way she'd scrubbed Rotakh off
herself.
She suddenly regretted having
done that.
Moving to the replicator, she
said, "Raktajino," knowing it wouldn't be
able to make the stuff.
"Please restate
request," appeared in simple block letters.
"Coffee, lots of
milk."
A mug appeared, and she
wrapped her hands around it, trying to use the hot porcelain to get warm.
Spock came out. His hair was still wet, and he passed her
without a glance. He did not tell her to
take a seat as he started the engines, but she knew by the change in sound that
they were revving up. She shoved the mug
into the stasis of the replicator and threw herself into the nearest seat.
Once they were en route, she
got up, retrieved her coffee, and took the copilot's seat. Spock didn't look at her. He didn't talk the entire voyage. The silence
seemed to grow huge between them. Bigger than the shuttle.
Bigger than the clearing where crossed beams had started this--and
finished this.
She shuddered. Realized she was freezing and checked the
temperature. Spock had it set on Vulcan
hot, and she was still cold.
She wondered if she would
ever be warm again. She pulled on her
jacket, shoving her hands in the pocket, touching the little communicator.
Warm. It was probably warm on Qo'noS. She closed her eyes, slipped into an
uncomfortable sleep, never letting go of the communicator.
*********
--15 hours earlier--
Chapel's phaser cut through
the night, illuminating Spock's face as he crashed to the ground. Valeris screamed in rage, and Chapel could
hear her talking to Spock in Vulcan.
"She is preparing to
attack," Rotakh said, his keener Klingon eyesight apparently tracking what
Chapel could barely make out.
Valeris screamed again, and
the horrible sound told Chapel where to shoot.
She fired, the beam enveloping Valeris, but not stopping her as she
rushed them.
But then Valeris's
scream was cut short as a Klingon disruptor joined the Starfleet-issued
phaser. She disappeared in a flash of
greenish-white.
The night went still.
"Is Spock alive?"
Rotakh asked, striding to the place where Valeris had stood.
Chapel struck a light stick
against the bottom of her boot. The
night gave way to the brightness of artificial day. She walked slowly to Spock and crouched down,
her hand going by instinct to his neck, then adjusting for where the Vulcan
jugular would be. She'd checked his
pulse so many times on so many missions.
The touch of her fingers on his throat would be familiar to him by now,
if he'd been conscious.
"He's alive," she
said.
Spock moaned softly.
"Spock? Can you hear me?"
He opened his eyes.
Rotakh crouched down, not
speaking, just waiting.
"Valeris?" Spock's voice was frighteningly weak. Then his eyes met Chapel's. Accusing her without words of the thing she'd
thought about doing but hadn't.
"Where is she?"
"Dead. Gone."
Rotakh answered for her, not looking away.
Spock closed his eyes. Swallowed hard. His fists were clenched.
Rotakh looked at her. His smile was hard--smug. He pushed himself to his feet and stalked
off.
Opening his eyes, Spock
stared at her. "She was to be taken
alive."
"The plan changed."
He tried to sit up, but
managed to rise only a little before he collapsed back
to the ground. "You had no
right--"
"I had my phaser set to
stun. Rotakh didn't. I'm not sure how you think I should have
stopped him?"
He looked away. "It does not matter. It is over."
She wasn't sure how all
encompassing that statement was until she looked in his eyes, saw how empty
they were. He'd lost too much. Kirk.
His mother. Now Valeris,
destroyed in crossed beams of Starfleet jealousy and Klingon vengeance.
Chapel and a Klingon warrior
had murdered his love. What else was
there to say?
She started to rise.
He caught her, holding her
wrist in a death grip. "I will
still need help." He sounded as if
the thought of her helping him in any way was only slightly preferable to
taking poison.
"Now?"
"When I can no longer care
that your Klingon lover murdered the woman who should have been here."
Chapel swallowed. "I never said that he and I were--"
"We melded, or have you
forgotten?" His eyes burned again,
this time with what looked like hatred.
She wished she could remember
what had happened in the meld, but she didn't.
"I'm sorry. I tried to
shield, but I'm not trained."
"Even if you had, I
would have noticed the mark on your shoulder.
He has marked you just as certainly as I marked Valeris with the
bond."
She touched the scar,
realized it was right over where the nerve pinch would have been done. "Did you do that on purpose? Mark her?"
He shrugged. An awkward, Vulcan version
of the gesture.
"Was it on the
bridge? During that
interrogation?" Uhura had told her
about that. How Valeris had cried
out--in pain...or something.
It took him a long time to
nod. "I was angry." He let go of her wrist. "I will call for you when I am
ready."
And she knew that when he
did, her name would burn in his throat.
She stood up too fast and
felt her head spin. Ignoring the
dizziness, she fled the coldness in his eyes.
Rotakh waited for her where
the shadows began. Shadows
that fled in the face of her light stick. "So," he said, his voice a strange
mix of satisfaction and pain.
"Don't." She didn't look at him.
"You chose him. It was a poor choice. I told you that."
"I said don't."
He held something out to
her. She saw it was the
communicator. He'd said it was long
range. Just how long range was it?
"You lost this."
"I left it on your
ship."
"As I said." He showed her that he had its twin. "I will guard mine with more care."
"I left it behind on
purpose."
"I know." He smiled a hard, dangerous smile. "I forgive you." He pushed the communicator into her hand and
closed her fingers over it. "Should
you find you have need of me after you finish this."
"You aren't going to
fight him for me?"
"Why should I? Since I killed his woman, it is honorable
what he asks of you. In some way,
I...owe him this."
"And then what? You'll come get me?"
"I will." His stare was unrelenting.
"What if I don't want
you to?"
He didn't look away. "Then do not use the communicator."
She felt her head spin. Klingon logic was worse than Vulcan, seemed
to roar in ever tightening circles.
"You didn't have to kill her.
Doesn't your weapon just stun?"
"What good is a weapon
that just stuns?"
"Damn you!" She hit him as hard as she could. It was like hitting a brick wall. "You didn't have to fire. I had her.
She was caught."
His eyes burned into
her. "A skilled warrior--and I am a
very skilled warrior--sees where an opposing alliance is vulnerable and strikes
there to destroy the association. Once
Valeris was taken, Spock would have turned to you again. With appreciation instead
of hatred. Now...?"
"This was about
me?"
"I told you before. There is not much that isn't."
"And yet you leave me to
him?"
"I delivered the first
blow. The two of you together will
deliver the last." He smiled, but
something else shone from his eyes.
"Be brave, Christine. He may
make you pay for this. But then it will
be over. And the future--and who you
spend it with--will be up to you."
He lifted the communicator as
if it was his personal spoil of war, then jammed it into his pocket and stalked
off. As she sank to the ground, she
heard the sound of his ship taking off.
She didn't watch it disappear
into the night sky. But she did push the
communicator into her jacket pocket and closed the fastener to keep it
safe.
She heard Spock moaning. It would be time soon. And then it would be over.
And the future would be
waiting. If she was
brave--or foolish--enough to take it.
*********
--One hour earlier--
"She is here." Spock seemed to be shaking, and Chapel held
her hand out to him. He shied away. "Christine, please."
"I thought..." She looked away, feeling herself color. "Spock, you're sick."
"Sick?" He shook his head, the expression on his face
unreadable. "You thought you could
heal me? That I would still need you if
she was near?"
Chapel started to answer, but
words wouldn't come and tears seemed like they might. She turned away, caught a motion out of the
corner of her eye. "Valeris,"
she whispered.
Valeris's eyes burned with a fire that matched the one in
Spock's eyes. "I had no choice,
Christine. Believe me, I wanted to keep
running. I could have been halfway
across the galaxy, would never have even stopped at this world, but for
this."
Spock nodded. "I understand. It is no longer a matter of logic."
"No." Valeris sucked in great breaths, as if she
was in an airlock being drained of air.
"I hate that it is no longer a matter of that."
"Understood."
Chapel pulled her phaser out
of the holster. "Valeris, be
reasonable. I don't want to hurt
you."
Valeris looked at her with
such affection it made Chapel gasp.
"I know you don't. I
couldn't hurt you. Not even when it was
logical." She took several quick
breaths, as if she'd been running hard.
"But that was before. Now--just
get away from us."
"I can't. It's time to stop running."
"Yes, Valeris. It is time." Spock looked over at Chapel, then reached for
her, his hand heading for her shoulder. For her neck. For the
nerves that once pinched, would send her into unconsciousness. No doubt he'd do it with a sincere
"forgive me." Would he catch
her and settle her gently to the ground?
Or would he just let her fall?
She knocked his hand away,
shot him a hurt look that she hated but couldn't stop. "No way, Spock." She looked at Valeris. "You're going back to Rura Penthe. I'll take care of Spock."
For a moment, some primal
fury burned in Valeris's eyes. Then she seemed to force control on
herself. "I almost wish I could,
considering what lies ahead. But he
won't let you take me."
"He doesn't have a
choice."
"I do." Spock's voice was odd. Harsh and almost regretful.
Chapel just had time to
analyze it before he backhanded her. She
hit the ground hard, felt the wind knocked out of her. Her eyes clouded, but she could still see
Spock stumbling toward Valeris, then the two of them running into the darkness.
Could Vulcans see in the
dark? She passed out before she could
think of the answer.
"Christine." Rough hands on her skin. Warm, not hot. "Open your eyes, woman."
She managed to say, "He
hit me," just before the world started to spin, and Rotakh turned her so
she could throw up on something other than herself.
"You chose him. It would seem, however, he did not return
the favor."
"Shut up."
She felt her phaser being
pushed into her hand, and she clutched it as if it was a lifeline. Her finger found the controller. It was set to stun. She dialed it up, all the way to maximum--to
kill.
"Interesting,"
Rotakh said.
She dialed it back down. She'd made a promise to Spock. Take her alive. She'd keep her side of the bargain, even if
he seemed incapable of keeping his.
But that wasn't his
fault. It was biology, really. It all came down to that.
She'd never stood a
chance. And Valeris was her friend. One who didn't seem to want this any more
than Spock wanted Chapel. She had to remember that. Her friend wasn't the enemy here. Except she was the enemy--she was the
traitor.
Was this why Spock had chosen Chapel to do this? Because she'd be perpetually
off balance?
"I should have stayed
home."
"Too late
now."
Her head pounded as Rotakh
pulled her up to stand.
"Disappointed in
me?" she asked. She checked the phaser
again, to make sure it was really on stun--to make sure he knew it was really
on stun.
"No." He took her arm, letting her lean on him
while they walked. "You aren't a
killer."
"Why do I think that's
an insult rather than praise?"
He laughed.
"I can't see a damn
thing, Rotakh."
"I can." His hand on her arm tightened. "If we use these"--he pressed
several light sticks into her free hand--"we will only broadcast where we
are."
"Right." She jammed the sticks into her pocket. "I can't believe he hit me."
Rotakh, for once, did not
comment.
"We take her alive. I promised."
"Yes. You promised.
I remember." He slowed their
pace. "Are you in pain?"
"My head hurts. But I'm all right." She laughed bitterly. "If he'd gotten
that pinch in, I'd have been out for much longer."
"You knew he was trying
to incapacitate you and you let him try again?"
"I didn't let him. He hit me."
"You should have moved
away at the first sign of danger, found a more defensible position."
"Well, I'll remember that
next time."
"It is basic
technique."
"I'm not a goddamned
warrior."
"Neither is he. He still took you down. And next time might come sooner than you
think."
She wasn't sure how to answer
him. So, she just walked on in silence, letting
him lead as she held on to his arm, trying not to think about how easy it would
be to slide the phaser back up to the kill setting.
*********
--10 hours earlier--
"You seem
distracted," she said to Spock as she fiddled with the logs. It was nice to have something to do on his
shuttle. She'd had no way to distract
herself on Rotakh's ship.
"I am fine." But Spock's answer was snapped at her.
"It's just--"
He turned to look at her, the
cold fire in his eyes making her stop talking.
"It is just what?"
"Nothing."
"Silence would be
agreeable," he said, and the temperature in the shuttle seemed to go down
a little.
"You asked for me to
beam over. I guess it wasn't for small
talk?"
His jaw set in a tighter
line. She thought about how he'd asked
her to do this. To
help him find Valeris. What if it
hadn't been because she'd known the woman or Cartwright? What if it had been to have a substitute--his
second string--handy?
"Spock. I know what's going on."
He did not answer.
"We've been through
this. You and I. Remember?" She knew her tone was too conciliatory. Hated that she sounded this way with
him. But the Pon
Farr would make him unpredictable. And dangerous. Far more dangerous than a Klingon warrior. There was some horrible irony to that.
He finally answered her. "We have not been together for some
time."
She heard the unsaid. Not since Valeris had stepped in to take
over.
"No. Not for some time. But..."
"I did not ask you here
to serve as a substitute." But his
words didn't ring true, and he wasn't meeting her eyes as he spoke. "I do not trust the Klingons in this
matter. Valeris must be taken alive. I want your word."
"Of course, Spock. If I can take her alive, I will." But she thought the Klingons would want that,
too. There was honor in a quick death,
and they would not want Valeris to have that honor. They wanted her to suffer. It was what Rura Penthe was for. It was a place for those with no honor.
"You hedge,
Commander. Promise me you will take her
alive. No matter what."
"No."
He whirled to look at her,
and she saw raw fury in his expression.
"Spock, I know you're
not thinking clearly. And you have to
think clearly. And in the past, you
could think clearly when we..." She
blushed. "Perhaps you could think
of Valeris with more logic if some of the fire was burned off?"
"And you offer
yourself?"
"It's worked
before."
But only
before Valeris. Just how important was she to him?
"I need your promise,
Christine. You will not harm her."
"And I'll give you my
promise. When you ask for it in a more
rational way. Deal?" She held out her hand, knew that he understood
what she was saying.
Spock nodded, and as she
started to get up, he pulled her to him, dragging her onto his lap. She felt the fasteners of her uniform being
opened in a far rougher fashion than Rotakh had done the night before. Then Spock was pulling her in for a kiss, his
lips brutal on hers. Her lips crashed
against his teeth; she tasted blood.
"Spock. Slow down.
Please."
"You wanted this."
"I want to help
you. I don't want you to hurt me."
He nodded, and a deep sigh
escaped. "I am not sure I can
oblige you, Christine."
"Try," she said,
and she leaned in, kissing him gently.
His kiss was still fierce,
but no longer savage. No longer
something that hurt. She began to pull
his uniform off, felt his fingers find the meld point.
And then she was lost. Buried somewhere in their joined thoughts, no
warmth except the heat of lust--but that was enough. He knew her.
He knew who he was with. Even if
he didn't call out her name, didn't say a word during their coupling. At least he didn't call out Valeris's name, either.
She woke up, her head fuzzy
and her body sore, and found they were both on the floor. The ship was on autopilot, and Rotakh was
hailing them. Spock pushed himself off
her, staggered to the comm panel.
"What is it?"
"You sound almost
Klingon, Ambassador." Rotakh's
voice dropped at the end. Probably as he
took in the disarrayed hair, the unfocused gaze--the naked chest. "Is Commander Chapel there?"
"Yes. Where else would she be?"
"Let me see her,
then."
She pulled on her clothes,
fixed her hair as much as she could with just fingers. Then she stumbled to her seat, leaning in so
Rotakh could see her. "What is
it?"
His eyes narrowed, and she
had a feeling he knew exactly what they'd been doing. "I know where Valeris is."
"Where?" Spock's voice was savage. As if he'd not just slaked some of his lust
in her body for--she glanced at the chrono--four hours.
"Six hours ahead. It is a sparsely inhabited planet. Typical for the neutral
zone. She must have put down for
supplies. A Ferengi there made sure her
ship wouldn't take off again. There are
times that having no honor is very useful."
"Sabotage," Spock
murmured. "From the French
sabot."
"What?" both Chapel
and Rotakh asked.
"It
is...ironic." Spock seemed to be
sinking into himself. "Transmit the
coordinates."
"You need to understand
something, Ambassador. Valeris must not
escape. Her capture is my only duty--in
whatever fashion that occurs."
"Commander Chapel and I
have already been over this. She will be
taken alive." Spock glanced over at
her, looking light years from a man who'd just made love to a woman. "You promised."
She hadn't really, not
yet. But this was it. This was the time to promise. She glanced at Rotakh, seeing something hard
in his expression as she nodded. "I
did promise."
"Very well, then. You promised." Rotakh looked down, seemed to be working
something on the controls.
"Coordinates transmitted."
"Acknowledged. We will see you there." Spock hit the panel to kill the comm
panel. Then he increased speed. The shuttle seemed to burst forward, and he
did it again. And
again.
She glanced at the
readings. They were well above
recommended speeds. She glanced at
another panel; Rotakh was falling behind.
"Spock?"
"You promised. He did not."
*********
--7 hours earlier--
"Are you ever going to
speak to me again?" Rotakh glanced
over at her from the pilot's seat of the small Klingon ship, his eyes glinting
in a way that immediately annoyed her.
"Probably not."
He grinned. "To have left you speechless after a
night together can be taken several ways."
"Get over
yourself." She heard him laugh,
fought the urge to throw her raktojino in his
face. "You got me drunk."
"Nobody gets someone
drunk on bloodwine. It's not like your Earther champagne, tripping down your throat with a will of
its own. Bloodwine is an acquired taste,
and if you drank enough to become inebriated, it was by your own choice."
She folded her arms over her
chest, and looked out the side viewscreen.
"Tell me I'm wrong,
Commander."
"You never call me Doctor."
"You aren't on this
mission to heal Valeris." He
grinned at her. "And you are
changing the subject."
"There is no
subject. We are not a subject."
"So it was what? The passion of a moment?"
"That's
right." She'd required quality time
with her regenerator. The love bites
alone--the first one had left a scar, despite her best efforts.
"Hmm." He did something to the controls that must
have put the ship on autopilot, because he stood up and walked over to
her.
As he touched her neck, his
warm, rough hands brought back memories of the night before as they moved over
her scar. And they were hot, sweaty,
violent memories. She felt something
deep inside her twist with remembered pleasure.
He leaned down, his breath
hot in her ear. "Are you sure it
was just of the moment?"
She jerked away. "Stop it."
"Very well." He straightened up, but his hands lingered on
her neck. He pressed harder, working
deep into pressure points, unclenching muscles she hadn't realized had been
tight.
"Please..."
"Please stop? Or keep going?" He didn't wait for her to answer, just let
her go and returned to his seat.
"By the way, we are meeting up with an old friend of yours in a few
hours."
"Who?"
His smile was impossible to
read. "Spock, of course."
She felt her heart skip a
beat.
He seemed to know that. "Were you lovers, then? You never answered that question."
"I wouldn't go that
far."
"Interesting."
"I didn't mean for you
to take that piece of information personally."
"It's possible I now
take everything personally where you are involved. We Klingons do not take sex lightly."
"Even bloodwine-induced
sex?"
"Even that." He looked at her, his eyes meeting hers,
holding hers. Then he looked down. "Why is Spock here?"
"He said he would
come. Once he finished what he was
working on."
"Does he not trust you
to do this job? Does he think you can't
find Valeris? Or that you can't work
with a Klingon?" His smile became a
leer almost.
"He is here for his own
reasons, I'm sure."
"You cannot trust him in
this, Christine."
"I can't trust
Spock?"
"His judgment toward her
is questionable. He will want to offer
mercy."
"Starfleet Command
wouldn't have sent him if they didn't think he could be trusted."
He made a disparaging sound,
a click of tongue and expelled breath.
"Starfleet Command may not realize what is going on."
"Meaning...?"
"He was in love with
her. She played him with ease."
"It's not a failing to
be in love with someone."
"It is a failing to be
made a fool of. I believe Valeris is not
the first Vulcan woman to make a fool of him?
Yet he keeps going back to them."
Chapel could feel her lips
tighten.
"Struck a
nerve?" Rotakh sighed. "This would have been simpler without
him."
"Why? He understands her better than any of
us. He was in her head, after all."
"And still he wants to
help her."
"He wants to recapture
her."
"No, little fool. He wants to save her from Klingon
justice. I have reports that indicate he
has argued for her to be remanded to Federation custody."
She looked at him, could feel
disbelief coloring her face.
"Reports from a source
we trust implicitly."
She exhaled slowly. Spock wanted Valeris freed from Rura
Penthe? "He must have a good reason...if
your reports are even right."
"I'm sure he has his own
reasons. Good ones? The question would be good for
whom?" His expression was ugly. "It's interesting, the timing of how she
escaped."
"I don't follow."
"I mean...just now. The timing is remarkable."
"Now?"
"When the Ambassador is
reported to be under the weather. The
seven-year flu, I believe."
She felt her heart sink. So that was why he'd acted so strangely in
the conference room. She had some
experience with this. She should have
seen. But she'd wanted to believe he'd
been missing her. That
they'd had a chance. Even though
she knew he loved Valeris.
"I've heard when a
Vulcan suffers from this infirmity, only his parMach'kai will do."
That damned word. It had sounded pretty last night. Now it sounded hateful.
"I'm not going to
discuss this with you, Rotakh."
"Of course
not." His expression was knowing.
"The Ambassador has asked that you beam over once we are in
range."
"Fine."
"I think you should stay
here."
"You would."
"Christine, you owe this
man nothing."
"He just wants to talk
to me about the mission." The
mission: getting the love of his life back?
The love he might have helped escape from a Klingon prison?
"My reports indicated
another thing. Something about your
relationship with Spock."
She took a deep breath. Could imagine what was coming. "Don't."
"In the past, you've
helped him, have you not? Healed him
from earlier bouts of this seven-year flu?"
"I said--"
"I know what you
said." He sighed--even a sigh
sounded dangerous when it came from a Klingon.
"You still love him."
"If I have feelings for
him, they're not your business."
"If you have feelings
for him, then you are a greater fool than I thought. He burns, Christine. And he does not burn for you."
She felt as if he'd struck
her. "You have no idea what you're
talking about."
"Don't I? Open your eyes, woman. See that this man does not care about
you. He never has and he never
will."
Looking away, she reached
into her pocket and slipped the communicator out, slamming it on the
console. "I won't be needing
this."
"Choices made in anger
are often regretted."
"Oh, as if a Klingon
never makes a choice in anger? Don't you
dare lecture me."
She got up. "I'm going to
shower. I smell of things Klingon."
This time he colored
darkly. Had she managed to wound
him?
"Let me know when we
rendezvous with Spock," she said.
"Who am I to interfere
with your little reunion?" He
turned to look at her, his eyes raking over her body. "He is the wrong choice."
"I'm not choosing
anything."
But she could tell he knew she was lying.
*********
--8 hours earlier--
"I cannot believe we
were too late." Rotakh held out a
hand, pulled her up the high step into his ship.
"At least we know we're
on the right trail." She gazed up
at the ion storm. They were safe on the
ground. Valeris would have to go to
ground eventually, too.
"We will stay here
tonight." Rotakh glanced back at
her, as if expecting her to decline.
"Fine."
His smile was pleased. "I will introduce you to Klingon blood
wine."
She shook her head. "I've heard it compared to sulfuric
acid."
"Sulfuric acid is for
weaklings."
At her dubious look, he said,
"You enjoyed the raktajino, didn't you?"
"I did."
He grinned at her as he
hauled out a barrel from a storage cabinet.
"There are cups up there."
He pointed with his chin at a cabinet over her head.
She pulled two down. The cups were more like steins and were made
of a dull metal, intricately carved with some kind of crest.
"It is my house
seal. The house of Mortess. He
is a famous warrior." Rotakh had
moved behind her, his breath was warm on her neck.
"Aren't all Klingons
famous warriors?" She leaned back a
little, then realized what she was doing and pulled
away.
"Some are more famous
than others." He moved closer again
and blew on her neck.
She tried to hide the shiver
he caused. "You're doing that on
purpose."
"I am. Does it feel good?"
"No."
"Liar." He laughed, but he moved away.
"How did you wind up on
Rura Penthe?"
He sighed, taking the cups
from her and dipping them into the blood wine.
"It was an obligation."
"Does it involve
dishonor?" She took the cup he held
out to her.
"Do you think I would
tell you if it did?" But his eyes
sparkled. "It was our house's turn
to man it. It is how such unpleasant
duties are apportioned out. I was
chosen."
She tried the blood wine,
felt it burn as it went down, and started to cough. When she finally stopped, she asked,
"Why were you chosen?"
He watched as she sipped
again, seemed to be appraising her, smiling when she swallowed and didn't
cough. "Because I have no
parMach'kai, no children. No obligations
other than to house."
"Parma...?" The translator had not changed it to Standard.
"ParMach'kai. My...beloved I suppose is closest word for
you."
"Ah. So, no one to miss you?"
"I believe that is what
I said. Although there are those in my
house I'm close to and who miss me."
He moved closer again. "Who
misses you?"
"I have friends. And family." She sipped at the wine again. Then took a longer gulp.
He laughed. "You are brave."
"Or very, very
foolish." She could feel the
pressure building from the storm outside.
"It's going to be a bad one."
"Yes." He leaned back against the table. "Are you afraid of storms?"
"No."
"Are you afraid of
anything?"
"Ending up all
alone." She stared down at the
wine. Wanted to pour it out and blame
her sudden honesty on the Klingon alcohol.
"Why are you alone? You are a spirited woman. You possess intelligence and are pleasant
enough looking--for a human." He
smiled at her. "Perhaps the men you
desire are unattainable?"
"Roger was my
fiancé. That's hardly
unattainable."
"That was also a very
long time ago. You have been alone for
many years."
"And so have you,
right?" She raised her cup. "Here's to two losers."
He didn't lift his cup. "I am not a loser. Neither are you."
She looked down. "I'm sorry." Had she been picked for this mission because
she was...expendable? Because
she had no one to care about her?
She downed the rest of the
wine.
"You should go
slowly."
"I'll go slowly when I'm
dead." It was an old Emergency Ops
habit of adding "when I'm dead" to any possible saying, and from the look
in his eyes, he liked it. She held out
her cup to him, and he took it and filled it.
"Are you hungry?"
he asked.
She nodded, praying his
answer to that hunger would not involve anything that moved on its own.
He pulled out some kind of
dried meat and cracker-like things. He
smiled at her sigh of relief. "No gagh, I'm afraid.
I'm sure you had your heart set on it."
"Some other
time." She threw back half her
wine.
"Christine." Her name sounded odd coming from him. He made it dark and exotic. "The wine will go to your head. I don't want you doing anything you might
regret later."
"Doing anything--or
anyone?" She smiled at his
embarrassed look. So Klingons were a
little prudish, were they? "What if
I want to?"
How long had it been since she
had? And what the hell had she been
waiting for all this time? Spock?
"Do you want
to?" He downed his own cup.
"Do you have to do
that? To find me attractive?"
"No." He smiled, reaching into her pocket, pulling
out the communicator. "I would not
have given you this."
As he put it back in her
pocket, she moved closer, and he dropped his hand to her hip. "Do you have to be drunk to want me,
Christine?"
She shook her head, put down
her wine, then his. "Stop
talking."
"Or you'll
what?" His question came out as a
growl.
She pulled him down to her,
met his lips with her own, wincing a little as her tongue ran over his sharp
teeth. He drew her closer, making short
work of their clothing, easing her up on the table and pushing her hair out of her
eyes. His expression was extraordinarily
tender, even if his hands were not.
She played with his hair--it
was coarse, as she'd suspected.
"You protected me today."
"I did."
"Why?"
"I need a Starfleet
partner to wander freely here. Just as
you will need one from Qo'noS if we cross over the neutral zone."
"You didn't
hesitate. That wasn't about
alliances. It was something more
elemental."
"Yes, Christine. It was."
He sniffed her neck, as if memorizing her scent. He kissed her throat, worked his way back to
her ear, down her shoulder. Then he bit
down viciously.
She yelped in pain, and he
roared, the sound echoing through the shuttle.
She should have been frightened.
She should have gathered up her clothes and run from him. But she didn't.
She laughed, and then as he
pulled her to him, she cried out. He
seemed to love the sounds she made because he made similar ones. She was very glad the storm was raging
outside, so that those in the spaceport couldn't hear them--and so that they
didn't have to think about stopping until exhaustion and the haze of his blood
wine drove them into sleep.
--4 hours earlier--
"She's not
here." Chapel looked around the bar
in dismay. "Damn it."
"She may be in the
back." Rotakh ignored the proprietor,
striding through a curtain of beads to a room in the rear. There was the sound of heavy crashing, then
of frantic feet.
Making a circuit of the bar,
she showed the holo of Valeris to everyone there. No one had seen her. No one had talked to her.
A young man came in. He took
one look at Chapel and seemed to bristle.
She held up a hand. "I just want to ask you a few
questions." Moving closer, she
showed him the holo.
"I don't like Fleeters," he said as he pushed her hand away.
"Please. It's very important that we find this
woman." Chapel was using her sweet
nurse voice. It almost always got the
brusque types to settle down.
"I said"--the man
grabbed her arm, threw her back into the wall--"I don't like Fleeters."
Chapel moaned, feeling dazed,
but she brought up her leg, kicking him away from her.
"I don't know who the
woman in your holo is, but I like her because she's giving you the slip. That makes me happy. And you know why?" He drew out a knife.
Chapel didn't take her eyes off
the knife, heard the bead curtain giving way, the clomp
of Klingon boots across the floor.
"Because you do not like
Fleeters. She
heard you the first time." Rotakh
joined his hands to make a fist, slammed it like a pile-driver into the man's
back.
He went down and didn't get
up.
"I had it under
control."
"Of course you
did." He was looking around, his
eyes flashing. As if he was daring
anyone else to try something. As if he
wanted that. His hand was on her arm,
and she realized he was gripping her hard.
Not hard enough to hurt, just hard enough to keep her half behind him.
He was protecting her?
He seemed to relax. Taking the padd from her, he held it
aloft. "To sum up, none of you have
seen this woman?"
There was much frantic
nodding--or whatever the alien equivalent was for those who weren't bipeds.
"Let's get out of
here." He'd never let her go, his
hand still tight on hers.
"Uhhhh...?"
He looked down, frowned
slightly. Then he released her. As they walked out of the bar, he looked up
at the night sky. "She will not get
far."
Chapel looked up, too. Saw the beginning of what looked like a
mother of an ion storm. "Oh. We better find cover."
"Yes." He glanced at her as they hurried back to the
spaceport. "Next time you are in
trouble, use the communicator I gave you."
"I'm not sure I was in
trouble. I do have some skills."
"I doubt that fighting
is one of them."
She started to argue, but at
his look let it go. He wasn't wrong,
anyway. Fighting had never been
something she was good at.
*********
--3 days earlier--
Chapel tried to
surreptitiously run some diagnostics on Rotakh as he piloted them off the
horrid dun-colored world she'd thought he might not walk away from.
"Stop doing that."
"Doing what?" She wasn't that familiar with Klingon normal,
but his readings seemed within reason--and much better than they'd been after
he'd been shot.
"I don't need you being
a doctor. Think like a warrior. Where would she go?"
"I don't know."
"She said she had
friends. She said it as if you might
know who they were."
She thought about the way
Valeris had been talking, how she hadn't shot her, too. "What do you mean?"
"She wanted you to come
with her."
"Yes, as evidenced by
her asking me to come--which she didn't actually do, or were you delirious as
well as paralyzed?"
"She was waiting for you
to take the bait she was dangling."
At her look, he nodded. "I
had very little to do but listen, Christine.
I think she wanted you on her side."
"On her side and at her
side are two different things."
"I am aware of
that." He exhaled loudly. "Thank you, by the way."
"For what?"
"For not letting her
shoot me again."
"You're
welcome." She glanced over at him, saw how tightly he seemed to be holding himself. "I thought Klingons weren't afraid of
death?"
"We're not. But if she had finished it, left me in that
state, I would have asked you to kill me."
"I wouldn't have."
"Then the healers on
Qo'noS would have when I returned to them."
"Why?"
"It is our way. There is no honor in living beyond our
time."
"That's crap." Her words came out too harsh, and she looked
down. "I'm sorry, but I can't
believe you'd just give up that way."
"Would it bother you if
I did? On a...personal level?"
"Every death bothers me
on a personal level."
"That is not what I
asked."
"I know it's not. It's the answer I'm giving you." She scanned him again as he turned around,
and rolled her eyes when he caught her.
"Just let me finish and I'll stop."
"Fine." He fiddled with the controls, then grinned. "I
do like that you are worried for me."
"I'm worried for my
patient. And my new
partner. I am not worried for
you."
"Of course
not." He leaned back. "Tell me about your men."
"My men?"
"These scientists for
whom you change your life."
"It wasn't that
way."
"Did you have long,
scintillating conversations with them?"
"Yes."
"Your answer lacks
conviction." He smiled. "I decided to read up on your scientific
men. Doctor Korby, I imagine, did most
of the talking. And having a
conversation with your Ambassador Spock would have been like pulling
teeth."
"Spock is perfectly
capable of having a conversation."
"With you?"
She didn't answer.
"So I am right?"
"You seem to be doing
most of the talking."
He laughed loudly. "I do, don't I? Perhaps you would care to speak?"
"No. I'm fine."
"Then think about where
Valeris might be going." A control
screen lit up in front of her. The list
that appeared was in Federation Standard.
"And while you're at it, check through the recently arrived ships
to Eliadar.
She had to be on one of them."
"Aye-aye, sir."
He smiled in that irritating
Klingon way and went back to piloting the ship.
*********
--4 hours earlier--
"You're sure she was
seen here?" Chapel tried to blend
into the somber populace on Eliadar, but her uniform
and Rotakh's leathers and furs stood out like poppies against ashes.
"Our reports indicate
yes." He glanced over at her,
handed her something.
"Here."
She looked at the little
instrument. "What is it?"
"A communicator. Very long range. In case we ever become separated."
"Thanks." She shoved it into her pocket. "What do you think she's--"
"Strangers. Do you seek someone?" A voice, nearly a whisper, sounded from the
doorway of a gray building that was no different than any other of the gray
buildings. A man stood half hidden in
shadows.
Rotakh looked over. He pulled Chapel with him as he navigated
through the drone-like people making their way across town. "It is possible we are seeking
someone."
"A woman with pointed
ears, perhaps?" The man rubbed his
fingers together in what Chapel had long ago decided was the universal sign for
"It'll cost you."
Rotakh was already reaching
for his money bag.
"Not here. The authorities will take a dim view of
this." The man gestured into the
building.
Rotakh followed him, taking
up most of the doorway. Chapel brought
up the rear, glancing back when she heard a noise halfway down the hall.
"Hello,
Christine." Valeris smiled at her, then shoved her into the wall.
Valeris fired, and Rotakh
went down. He wasn't dead or even
unconscious; he just lay staring up at the ceiling, eyes moving frantically.
"You can try to
move. But you won't get far. This gun paralyzes the central nervous
system." Valeris held the gun up at
Chapel. "Don't try to help
him."
The man
who'd called them nodded at Valeris, then ran off.
"Good help is so easy to
find if you pay generously. Have you ever
noticed that?"
"You're only making
things worse."
"Spock sent you after
me, didn't he? That would appeal to
him. Pit friend against friend."
"We aren't
friends."
"We were. Before it all fell apart." Valeris's eyes were
hard, glittering with some emotion Chapel was surprised to see. It looked like anger. "Did you see Cartwright?"
"Yes."
"Is he all right?"
"No. He's dead."
Valeris clenched her lips
together, but they still shook. Her eyes
glistened. She seemed to be having a
hard time controlling her emotions.
"Did he kill him?" She
kicked Rotakh.
He didn't make a sound, but
Chapel saw the pain register in his eyes.
"No. Cartwright was just...tired. And he was ranting at me. I think it took all his energy."
"He wanted that, Christine. To tell you what he thought of you."
"What he thought of
me? I'm not the traitor."
"We could debate that
all day. And it will get us
nowhere." Valeris moved to the
other side of Rotakh, away from Chapel, and crouched down. "This is for Rura Penthe. For the mines. For the savagery. For everything that you and
your people are. Everything you
tried to make us." She lay the gun against Rotakh's temple. "The second shot will make the paralysis
permanent, which delights me because I know how well you Klingons do with
disability." Her smile was vicious.
"Delights? Valeris, what's wrong with you?"
"Nothing that this man
and his people didn't set into motion."
Chapel moved closer. "Don't."
Valeris looked up at
her. "Why not?"
"He's not the enemy
here."
"And I am?" Valeris gave her the version of a smile that
Spock had never mastered. Her eyes
lightened, her lips tilted a bit. It was
what had drawn Chapel to her in the first place. "We were friends, Christine. We still could be. There are others who think like we do."
"We don't think the same
way."
"I'm on my way to join
them. I could have kept going, but I
heard this one was on my tail." She
patted Rotakh on the arm, and he moaned, but Chapel thought it was probably supposed
to be a roar. "And you. I heard you were coming, too."
"And that
mattered?"
"It did. Don't let this man or Spock turn you against
me."
"You did that all on
your own." Chapel tried to load her
voice with every ounce of command she had in her. She'd been this woman's mentor once. Valeris had listened to her. "Don't hurt him."
"Nice try." Valeris looked up at her, her gaze
serene. Then, she frowned, and the hand
that clutched the gun seemed to go into spasm.
She dropped the weapon and slumped back, falling against the wall.
Chapel didn't stop to
think. She grabbed the weapon. "Don't move."
But Valeris didn't seem to
hear her. She was holding her head,
moaning slightly. "No, not
this. Not this again."
"Valeris?" Chapel's old instincts to help were rising to
the fore. She knew it was dangerous to
feel sympathy.
Valeris let go of her head,
sat breathing hard. "I should have
kept going. It was an emotional impulse
to stop just to pay Rotakh back. I
didn't understand why I was doing it."
"I don't
understand." Chapel crouched down,
Rotakh's big body between them.
"It's ironic,
actually. Spock's final
revenge." Then she lunged for the
weapon.
Chapel fell back, cradling
it, and instead of fighting her for it, Valeris pushed herself up and ran from
the building. Chapel wanted to follow
her, but she was afraid to leave Rotakh alone.
What if Valeris--or her helper--came back to finish him? She sat next to him, pulling out the
diagnostic tool and running it over him.
Rotakh was making sounds, and
Chapel patted his shoulder. "It's
all right. It will wear off
shortly."
He fell silent, his eyes
glued to hers as if trying to see if she was lying.
"I promise. It's temporary." She leaned back against the wall,
waiting.
Five minutes of silence
passed, and it was unnerving. People
passed them, never looking inside at their little drama.
"It was odd being her
friend," she finally said, desperate to fill the room with sound.
His eyes turned to her.
"I knew Spock cared for
her. I wanted to hate her. But I couldn't."
She noticed his fingers
twitching. "Good, it's wearing
off."
His eyes seemed to lose some
of their panic.
"I couldn't believe it
when I found out what she and Cartwright were involved in. I felt as if it was a personal
betrayal." She ran the tool over
Rotakh again. His vitals were elevated,
which wasn't surprising since he was obviously trying hard to move. "Don't work so hard at it. You're stressing your system. It will unthaw on its own."
His eyes seemed to promise
her a long, nasty death if she was lying.
She rambled on, telling him
things he probably didn't care about.
She realized she was talking about Roger, was about to talk about Spock,
and trailed off.
"Just when it was
getting interesting," he said, sounding as if he had a mouth full of
marbles.
"You can
talk." She smiled broadly. "See, I told you."
She took his hand, was
heartened to feel him grasp her weakly.
A few minutes later, he said,
"Help me to sit up."
"You're not ready."
"Do not make me ask
again." His voice was harsh even if
it was very weak.
She didn't make him ask
again.
*********
--2 days earlier--
"I was surprised they
picked you as my partner in this, Commander." Rotakh was making some kind of morning
beverage. He saw her watching and held
up a mug in silent question.
She nodded, unsure what she
was in for but desperately needing some caffeine. Surely Klingons needed a
morning boost, too?
"I knew Valeris,"
she said.
"Yes, you were on the list
of potential accomplices. Did you know
that?"
"Yes, but I'm not sure
how you know that."
"I was well briefed
before this little mission." He
carried the mugs over, hands wrapped around the mugs not on the handles. It was no doubt the height of Klingon
machismo to not care about burns. Unless the stuff was served cold?
She reached for the handle to
be on the safe side, gingerly touching the mug itself and whipping her finger
away before it burned. Not just hot,
boiling hot.
He grinned. "Caution is, at times, wise."
"But not very
Klingon?"
"On the contrary. An injury gained when one could be avoided,
is often little more than stupidity."
"Yet you carry the mug
that way."
"I have burned myself so
many times it no longer hurts."
"Interesting."
He grinned again, and she
found herself responding. "You say
that as if I am a specimen under your microscope."
"So you know I'm a
scientist?"
"As I said,
Commander. There is not much I do not
know about you."
She sipped at the drink. It burned going down but she didn't
care. It was hot, it was dark brown, and
it smelled more like coffee than any other alien beverage she'd tried over the
years. Besides, it tasted good.
She glanced at him in time to
see a look of approval. "So my file
must have been mighty boring."
"Why do you say
that?"
"I've been a doctor or a
nurse most of my career. I know Klingons
don't value that."
"You have done other
things. And I like to read between the
lines to try to understand the real person, the one who is more than a list of
her assignments and accomplishments."
Probably a side effect of
having been a prison warden. "And
what did you discover?"
"That for a scientist,
you make extremely emotional career choices."
She had the raktajino halfway to her lips and stopped. "Meaning?"
He didn't take his eyes off
her. "You joined Starfleet to look
for your fiance.
You became a doctor to escape our silent partner in this exercise."
"That's not true. I became a doctor to finish what I
started."
"So you were not fleeing
from Spock?"
"No." She hadn't felt warm and fuzzy about Spock
when she'd left. But she'd left for her
own reasons. Not because of him.
"And when you again left
the Enterprise. You were not fleeing
from him then?"
"No." But that was a lie. She had run from him. After that first Pon
Farr she'd helped him through. She'd
been...shaken by how unaffected he'd been by what they'd shared.
"You are awfully quiet,
Christine."
She started at her name. "Did I say you could call me that?"
"No. Did I ask if I could?" He stared her down, then
broke into a huge grin.
She shook her head, fighting
a smile.
"You chose Emergency
Operations for yourself, I think."
"I did. You're right."
"So you admit you did not
choose the others for yourself."
"No." She started to laugh. "Whoever said Klingons weren't wily
never took a long trip with one."
"It takes more than
brawn to plan a battle, Commander."
"I know." She'd found that out serving under Kirk. He'd
been tough and lucky, but underneath it all, he'd been smart. "But as you said, I'm done making
emotional decisions."
"I did not say
that. I said you made that one decision
for your own reasons. But, Commander,
you don't want to be here. You did it for
one reason: Spock asked."
"That's not
true." Her voice rose; she could
tell she was blushing.
"You mistake my
meaning. I am not judging the
action. Personal loyalty is highly
valued in our society. Emotional ties
run deep, and we follow those we care about."
"Then why are you
grilling me?"
"Because I wish to get
to know this woman who chases after one friend on behalf of another."
"Valeris wasn't my
friend."
"That is not what my
reports say. Admiral Cartwright, too,
was your friend. Despite his hatred for
you at the end."
"He thought I was
betraying him. All of them."
"Are you? Was there anything to betray?"
She realized he'd gotten them
back to the original question. Just how
involved had she been.
"I wasn't part of it."
"Would you tell me if
you were? I have the impression we
Klingons are not high on your list of favorite aliens."
She met his eyes. Was surprised to see not anger but something
else. Something more like
understanding.
"I never chose to be
part of it. But--" She swallowed. She'd never told anyone this. "I think I used to run errands for
them--for Cartwright, actually, but ultimately for them. I didn't know at the time, but looking
back..."
He didn't say anything, just
stared at her with the same expression.
"I should have come
forward once it all broke. But I was
scared. It was like a witch-hunt back
then. Everyone who knew them was suspect. I was afraid my career would be over."
"And you cared about
that?"
"I did."
"Do you still?"
"Of course."
"You are close to
retirement."
"I'm not that old."
"They are different
things, and you know it. Do you have
grand plans for when you are no longer Starfleet?"
She had no plans for when she
was no longer Starfleet. Oh, she'd continue
with medicine, probably. At a civilian hospital.
Or maybe work with some institute for science or relief efforts. She hadn't gotten that far yet.
He turned to the controls, as
if sure she was not going to answer him.
She watched him work, the silence growing. It was the first long silence they'd
had. It startled her to realize they'd
been talking non-stop.
It startled her even more to
realize she missed the conversation.
"I don't," she
said, to break the silence.
He turned to look at her.
"Have big plans. Not really.
The future will take care of itself, right?"
"You believe in fate,
then?"
"I believe that when I
get to the future, my path will become clear."
"Ah." He sounded as if he thought very little of
her beliefs.
"You have a better
way?"
"Yes. See what you want and take it."
"How very Klingon of
you."
He smiled. "It is a good way to live,
Christine. Very simple."
"Occam's razor."
"You think I don't know
what that means, don't you? Occam was a
Klingon."
She laughed. There'd been a time when Chekov would have
claimed he was a Russian. "He was
English."
"From the Klingon part
of England, then." He grinned at
her. "My tutors emphasized
science."
"Yet, here you are. A warrior."
"All Klingon's are
warriors. You have no idea what I also
am."
"A jailer."
"That was a temporary
posting. And what of
you. A healer
out tracking an escaped criminal.
Is that scientific?"
She shook her head, laughing
softly.
"I enjoyed physics the
most." He smiled. "When I get back to Qo'noS, I will be
working on a new type of weapon."
"What else?"
"It is only with a
strong hand that one maintains peace."
"You're right. All your money being pumped into the war
machine is what led to Praxis. And what
happened there led to peace."
He grinned, glancing at her
with approval. "Nicely done,
Commander. As logical as a
Vulcan." His smile didn't change.
"Shut up."
He laughed. "Ah, now that was an emotional
response."
"Just drive this
thing." But she was smiling. It was hard not to when he grinned that way.
*********
--23 hours earlier--
"Federation shuttle, you
are cleared for Rura Penthe." The
Klingon voice sounded even harsher somehow as it was translated into Federation
Standard.
The pilot looked over at Chapel. "All set, ma'am?"
"All set." She watched as the ship descended into a
frozen world. "My God."
"Yeah. You sure you don't want me to wait?"
"I'm supposed to ride
with one of them."
"I'd feel better if you
rode with us."
She smiled at him. "I would, too. But I'm not sure how we feel is
relevant."
"If you don't mind my
asking, what are we doing here?"
"If you don't already
know, then I do mind you asking."
"Understood." He busied himself with the controls. "Good luck. With whatever it is you're doing."
"Thanks." She saw a contingent of Klingons waiting for
her, snow whipping around them.
"Show no
fear." At her look, he
shrugged. "It's like with
dogs. Show no fear."
"Right." She got up and grabbed her carryall, opening
the door to the whipping snow and frigid air.
Why had she let Spock talk
her into this?
One of the Klingons strode
forward, clapping a fur around her. She
looked up, met eyes that stared back not in dislike but in curiosity.
"Thanks."
"Can't have you freezing
to death before we start our chase."
"Our chase?"
"I am Rotakh. I was warden here until a few days ago. I've known Valeris longer than anyone."
"I doubt you've known
her at all."
He nodded, some Klingon version
of "touche." "I was here during the bulk of her
stay. How's that?"
"Fine. Can we get inside?"
He turned and nodded to the
other men, who separated to show a hole in the ground. "Welcome to Rura Penthe, Commander
Chapel."
"Thanks a
bunch." She followed him to the
hole and down the ladder, breathing easier as she hit warmer air. "So did you get fired after Valeris
escaped?" At his look, she
shrugged. "What? You said you were the warden, not are the
warden."
"I was rotating
out. No one stays here for long. No one who's not a prisoner."
He led her down a wooden
bridge. Below her she could see the
prisoners. They looked like animals:
long, unwashed hair, ragged clothes and furs.
She swallowed hard, not wanting to imagine Cartwright or Valeris here.
He seemed to be watching
her. "You are soft."
"I'm not a warrior, if
that's what you mean."
"Why did they send
you? I expected an experienced tracker
on this."
"Are you an experienced
tracker?" She held up a hand before
he could answer. "I retract the
question. Of course you are--you're
Klingon. But are you the most
experienced tracker?"
"No. But I have a stake in this."
"Bingo."
"Bingo?" His translator obviously was having trouble
with that one.
"It means
'correct.'"
"Only in a ruder
way."
"Maybe." She peered down into the pit again. Saw a dark man in dirty red rags huddled in
the corner. "No."
She looked around, saw a
guard in front of a staircase and tried to push him out of the way. It was like trying to move a mountain.
"Let her pass,"
Rotakh said, following her down the stairs.
She fell on her knees,
running her diagnostic tool over Cartwright.
"He's sick."
"No, Commander. He's dying."
Cartwright looked up, his
eyes bleary and watering. Then he seemed
to realize who she was. "Get away
from me, traitor." He pushed her,
but he had no strength in his hands.
"Everyone left me."
"We're going to get
Valeris back, sir."
"Don't sir me, Chapel. I've been court-martialed, or haven't you
heard?" He struggled to sit up and
she helped him. "Leave Valeris
alone, Chris. She doesn't deserve
this. None of us do, but she got
out. She really did it. Let her go."
"Sir, I can't."
"Turn a blind eye,
Commander. That's an order." He started to cough, blood-flecked spittle
landing on his filthy clothes.
"I can't."
"Oh, but you did, didn't
you, Chris? You never wanted to know
what we were up to. Your
good friends. You turned a blind
eye, then. Turn one now, damn it."
Rotakh was studying her. She met his eyes, blinking back tears that
were part guilt and part anger. She
hadn't known. It wasn't until later,
after the conspiracy had blown up on intergalactic news, that she'd put two and
two together and arrived at "my friends are traitors." It had not been a pleasant realization. Starfleet had been having a little trouble
buying it, too. The interrogations
hadn't been fun.
"I'll bring Valeris
back, sir." She meant it as a
promise; it came out as a threat.
"Leave her alone."
She eased Cartwright back
down and rose.
As she walked away, she heard
him cursing, then he fell abruptly silent. She started to turn, but Rotakh stopped her,
his hand firm on her shoulder.
"Don't. The guards will see to his body."
She pulled away somehow. Turned and saw that Cartwright was staring at
her, his mouth open in mid-curse.
"He was my mentor. He took a
chance on me when others were pushing for someone else. He was my friend."
"Yes, he was all that. And now he is a traitor. A dead traitor. And seeing you probably killed him."
She could fill her lip
trembling, pressed down to stop it.
Glaring at him, she jerked out of his grip.
"You did him a kindness,
actually."
She thought he was mocking
her, looked up at him and saw that he was serious. "I suppose in your world, dying quickly
in a fit of anger at a friend must be preferable to a long, lingering death
among those who don't care at all? I'll
never understand Klingons."
"I'd say you already
do." He pushed her ahead of him,
aimed her for the stairs. "Let me
fill you in on what we know so far."
*********
--5 days earlier--
"Commander
Chapel?" Admiral Bosson smiled at her as he hurried up. It was a dangerous smile. A snake-oil salesman smile.
"The answer's no,
sir."
He just laughed. She was lucky he thought she was funny. Had since they'd worked together on a major
relief effort, back when he was still a captain.
"I have a little project
for you, Christine."
"I've got plenty of
projects now."
"This is different. It has my blessing. I thought you should know that." He gestured toward a briefing room that
appeared to be empty.
"Please."
She started to walk in,
realized he wasn't coming.
"Sir?"
"Just wait." He hit the door mechanism, and it slid
closed, shutting her off from the corridor.
She walked into the room but
didn't sit down. A minute passed, then
two. "This is ridiculous."
She heard the door open and
whirled.
Spock stood in the
doorway. "Good afternoon,
Commander."
"Captain Spock. Or do you prefer Ambassador?"
"Either is
fine." He walked into the room but
did not sit. In fact, he seemed a bit
antsy, moving around as if studying the pieces of art on the wall, the holos of prominent personnel.
"You called this
meeting?"
"Yes." He took a deep breath. "Valeris has escaped from Rura
Penthe."
She wasn't sure what to
say. She'd seen no comms
on this, that was for sure. Someone was keeping it quiet. She wondered if it was Spock himself.
"And you're telling me
because...?"
"Because you will find
her."
"I will?" At his look, she said, "Perhaps you
should do that?"
"I will join you. But I am in the middle of a delicate
negotiation. I will not be able to leave
for at least two days. And time is of
the essence."
"I'm not a bounty
hunter, Spock."
"But you knew her. She was your...friend, was she not?"
"She was."
"Then you have an
interest in finding her. And I know you
are interested in helping me. Or...you
were in the past."
She colored at the thought of
how many different ways helping him had translated to.
"Of course, I'll help
you. But I've never done this."
"You won't be working
alone. The Klingons also have a man on
this."
"One man? Valeris escapes from their 'inescapable'
prison, and they only send one man?"
"I asked them to limit
the numbers. One or two are likely to do
better, to blend in where she might hide, than an entire army of Klingon
soldiers."
"True."
"And...I trust you,
Christine." He looked up at her, a
deep urgency in his expression. "I
trust you to be a mitigating factor on the Klingon."
"Meaning?"
"Keep her alive."
A surge of jealousy roiled
through her, and she tried to bite it back.
She'd known Spock and Valeris had been involved. Had known for years.
"I appreciate your faith
in me. I'm not sure I can live up to it,
though."
"You have always been
there when I needed you."
She blushed again, looked
away. "I know. But...that was different. And we both know it."
"Not so different. Please.
Do this for me." He walked
over, surprised her by taking her hands in his.
He squeezed, his hot skin
bearing down on her as if he thought to sway her through touch alone.
"You still care for
her?" As soon as the words were out
of her mouth, she wanted to kick herself.
He didn't answer, just held
onto her hands, watching her with what was almost desperation.
"I'll do it. If it means that much to you."
"It does. I won't forget the role you play
here." He closed his eyes, as if in
relief, then let go of her. "Your
contact's name is Rotakh. Be careful
around him, Christine."
She nodded.
"And be careful of
Valeris."
"I still don't think
this is the best idea."
"It is the only idea I
have." He touched her cheek, his hand seemed to tremble. "Thank you."
"You're
welcome." She leaned up, kissed his
cheek.
He didn't pull away.
"Safe journey," he
murmured. "Admiral Bosson has the details you will need. I will see you soon."
Then he was gone.
She touched her cheek where his
finger had rested. It hadn't meant
anything. This was about Valeris.
Her heart was beating so
hard, she knew it wasn't listening to her.
Why couldn't she ever give up
on the past?
FIN