Chapter Four

 

 

Alerted by his own prescient warning, Spock turned toward the turbolift just as the doors hissed apart.  The captain stepped out first, waiting to escort the ZaworthIan ambassador onto the bridge.

 

Spock felt his eyebrow rising.  The woman’s presence was compelling, despite the formless clothing she wore and the severity of her hairstyle.  The slender lines of her figure were aesthetically pleasing, and the tight plait did not hide the brilliant copper fire of her hair…  and even the Vulcan was not immune to ZaworthIan eyes.

 

“Fascinating,” Spock murmured, vacating the command chair to stand at relaxed attention.

 

“I’ll say,” Reilly whispered behind him, once again forgetting the acuity of his hearing.

 

“Ambassador d’Aeviane, may I present my first officer, Commander Spock of the planet Vulcan.  Mister Spock, the Lady Ysaulte,” Jim introduced formally, and the ambassador grinned at him before pausing in front of the Vulcan.

 

She raised one hand in the ta’al.

 

“Mene sakkhet ur-seveh, Commander.” 

 

Jim, for one, was unsurprised to hear her use perfectly accented Vulcan.

 

“Peace and long life, Ambassador d’Aeviane.”  Spock made the sign of greeting as well, then bowed his head in her direction.  The effect of the colors swirling in her eyes was quite remarkable.  He’d thought for one startled moment that she looked right through his psionic barriers.  Forcing his gaze on his captain, he caught Jim watching him with a sympathetic grin.  Spock wondered if he appeared as shaken as the chief engineer had, at last understanding Scott’s shock.

 

“Captain, we will be approaching orbital path around Muuye in one point six three one hours,” he reported evenly.

 

“That’s the fourth planet in the system, isn’t it?  And the seat of government for the Etumuuyea system?”  Jim asked, trying to remember what he’d read in the briefing from Star Fleet Command.

 

“Correct.  Planets two and three, Aryetu and Tuarye, are also inhabited.”

 

“What is your mission here, Captain?”  Ysaulte pretended an interest she did not feel, being rather dismayed by the Vulcan’s resemblance to her assailant.

 

“Spock, sum up the situation for the ambassador, please.”

 

“Certainly, Captain.”  Spock set himself to meet the ZaworthIan’s gaze again, braced against the liquid wash of violets, browns and grays.

 

“The Negus ul Etumuuyea, Ryu Gnaur, requested a meeting with a representative of Star Fleet Command to discuss the provision of shore leave facilities for Star Fleet personnel.  The Negus has recently indicated to Fleet Command that the Etumuuyea are no longer willing to allow Star Fleet personnel to visit intrasystem, a service they have previously encouraged.  Recent intelligence reports suggest part of the system’s population is in favor of withdrawing from the Federation altogether.  There have also been reports of Romulan influence.”

 

“We’re supposed to find out what the Etumuuyea really want, and if they are turning against the Federation, why?”  Jim summarized hastily, aware of Ysaulte’s discomfort.  Spock’s mention of the Romulans had plainly troubled her…  plainly to Jim, anyway.  He sensed it on some subliminal level he couldn’t have explained had he been asked. 

 

“How do you plan to accomplish this?”  Ysaulte inquired doubtfully, trying very hard to remember where she was, and with whom.  It was difficult.  Every time she looked at the Vulcan, she saw another.

 

Jim watched the faint color fading from the ZaworthIan’s face and concluded she was in trouble.  Moving to Ysaulte’s side, he took her elbow in an unobtrusive grip, placing himself between her and Spock before he answered her last question.

 

“We don’t know what we’re going to do yet,” Jim murmured into Ysaulte’s ear with wry honesty, inviting her to share his amusement.  He could sense that choking anxiety seep away as she sighed.

 

“My thanks, James.  I am all right, now,” her thoughts echoed soundlessly in his.

 

“All the same, I’ll stay near.  Do you want to leave?”

 

His unvoiced support gave Ysaulte the spirit to refuse.

 

“Not at all.  This is the heart of thy ship, yes?  I would see more.”

 

The captain’s approval came clear, then his mind closed to her, although he kept one hand lightly cupped on her elbow.

 

“Excuse us, Mister Spock, while I show the ambassador around the bridge.”

 

“Of course, Captain,” Spock replied mechanically, his own thoughts awhirl.  He had perceived the ZaworthIan’s disquiet, and known himself somehow responsible, even through the strength of her shielding…  and then realized he felt her fear through Jim, through that faint, residual connection he bore his human friend.  Obviously, the captain shared some kind of mental link with the alien, for Jim had sensed her emotion, had moved to calm her…  Was she controlling the captain’s mind?

 

Spock saw the ZaworthIan’s head lift sharply and she turned to stare at him from where she stood with Jim at the engineering station.  Her eyes glittered icy gray, and the Vulcan recognized sudden, frank irritation.

 

“James, I must speak with Spock once more.”

 

“As you wish, Ysaulte.  What’s wrong?”  Jim was aware of her displeasure, although he had not picked up on its source.

 

“It does thy friend credit that he watches over thee, but his interpretation of my actions doth be in error.  I wish his reassurance.  See thou, there must be understanding,” she told him silently.

 

That brief aggravation had faded, to be replaced by worried concern.  Jim felt a momentary wonder that her voiceless clarifications came so easily to him.

 

“Are you sure__”  he hesitated, knowing she was far from comfortable in Spock’s presence.  “Do you want to go… alone?”

 

“He is friend to thee, and will not harm me.  And I am not alone, am I?”

 

The piercing intensity of Ysaulte’s oblique invitation drew Jim’s attention to the swirling hues in her irises, gone dreamless blue.  Jim had the inescapable impression the color reflected her confidence in him.  Disconcerted, he nodded and dropped his hand.

 

Ysaulte went to Spock, who still stood beside the center seat.  Cocking her head sideways, she peered at him, willing herself to see past his superficial likeness to Marlak…  and very conscious of the warmth of Jim’s mind, still open to her.

 

“Are you planning to just talk about this in front of the junior officers?”  Jim had to ask.

 

“Of course not.  Think me a fool?”

 

Jim had to cover his mouth with one hand to keep from laughing out loud.  This was a side to Ysaulte he had suspected was hiding, restrained by diplomacy and disequilibrium.  The Lady was sharp-witted and sharper-tongued.

 

Ysaulte chewed her bottom lip, not sure how to begin.  The Vulcan waited, his expression serene, although she had an impression of conflict within him.

 

“I would have truth between us, Commander,” she released the unspoken wish into Spock’s perception, leaving it to him whether or not to respond thus.

 

Spock looked at her, one eyebrow on the rise.

 

“Truth is always preferable, Ambassador,” he replied aloud.

 

So.  He would not speak in-mind.

 

“I do not control him.  I take nothing from him he is unwilling to give.  He is not weakened,” Ysaulte said in Vulcan.  That initial surge of strength lent by irritation had vanished completely in the face of those fathomless dark eyes, making her realize how easy it was to be brave when the Terran’s thoughts were with her.

 

“You possess great ability as a telepath, Ambassador,” Spock noted by way of reply, answering her in Vulcan to maintain privacy.  “It is evident that you perceived my reactions.”

 

Ysaulte did not pretend to be puzzled by his remark.

 

“It doth be the way of my people,” she responded gravely.

 

“It is not the Terran way,” the Vulcan told her.

 

She felt herself pale as his meaning became clear.

 

“Think him…  overset, then?”  Ysaulte asked Spock, and the first officer watched the uncertainty in her eyes color them a dull brown.

 

“It is possible,” he replied.  “Your regard is most impressive.”

 

“Thou art not without thine own Talent, Commander,” Ysaulte pointed out evenly.

 

“I am primarily a touch telepath, Ambassador.”

 

Ysaulte shuddered unexpectedly, apprehending a vague warning in the words the Vulcan chose.  Her mental barriers strengthened by reflex, closing out all contact.

 

“Ysaulte?”  Jim joined them then, his tone gentle.  “Are you all right?”  His eyes took in the rigid set of her shoulders, evidence of her discomfort.  “Spock?”

 

Jim’s tone held just the slightest trace of accusation, Spock decided, at a loss to explain…  for he had intended admonition, he realized.

 

“No, James, I am well,” Ysaulte hurried to assure him and drew back before he could touch her, for he would surely see past her surface calm.  Was it possible the Vulcan was correct, and her telepathic communications with the Terran ill advised?  Spock was his friend, had been for years, and probably knew the captain’s mind very well.

 

"Thou art right to caution me, Commander, for I am… vulnerable.”  She used the Vulcan words once again, although she had to resort to Old Form to find a word for ‘vulnerable’.  “I shall consider it.”

 

"I meant no disrespect, Ambassador,” Spock stated quietly, finding her reserve almost painful.  Considering the circumstances of her dependence on Jim, he had no wish to cause her further hurt.

 

"This need not be said,” Ysaulte murmured, looking through him.  “Please, excuse me, gentlemen.  I find I am quite weary.”

 

With that, she stepped around them and onto the turbolift, her shielding impervious.  The doors closed her away…

 

          “What happened?”  Jim asked, tone pitched for his friend’s hearing.

 

“I…”  Uncharacteristically, Spock lifted his shoulders in an imperceptible shrug, and Jim felt his own eyebrows go up.

 

“Have you forgotten we’ve been ordered to assist the ambassador in whatever manner she requires?”  The captain moved past Spock to sit in his chair, and the first officer reflected on the fact that he actually had disregarded those orders, because of his personal concerns.  Spock realized only then the ambassador had recognized that, without faulting him for it.

 

Jim shook his head, astounded when the tips of Spock’s ears darkened green.

 

“You did forget!”  The thought was so plain Spock could hear it without benefit of physical contact.

 

“Well.  I did wonder what kind of effect you’d have on each other, but I didn’t think you would frighten her.”  Jim’s voice was nearly soundless.

 

“That was not my intention, Jim.”

 

“What did you intend, Spock?  Oh, never mind.  Her reaction probably had more to do with your appearance than what you said, anyway.”  Jim lounged comfortably against the arm of his seat.

 

“I do not understand, Captain.”

 

“Her attacker.  You knew he’s Romulan.  You and he share a certain… similarity.”  Jim sighed at the unfortunate coincidence.  “She’s been trying so hard to handle it.”

 

“I believe the Lady d’Aeviane felt…  threatened, Captain,” Spock admitted slowly, beginning to understand why.

 

“I don’t want her to feel that way, Spock.  Especially not here.”  Jim heaved himself up out of his chair, thinking he needed to check on the ambassador.

 

“When we make final orbit, arrange the meeting and notify me.  The bridge is yours.”

 

“Jim, I… perhaps I can make amends,” Spock offered, uncomfortable with the faint disappointment shadowing his friend’s eyes.

 

“Let me talk to her first.  I’ll let you know.”

 

Spock watched Jim leave the bridge and wondered at his own reactions.

 

***

 

After stopping first at her quarters, Jim found Ysaulte on the observation deck.

 

“This seems to be a favored spot of yours, “ he said softly, trying not to startle her.  She was staring at the stars with an unreadable expression.

 

“I think perhaps Commander Spock would not have forgiven me as quickly as you, James, and perhaps you were wrong to so do.”

 

“No, Ysaulte.”  Jim took her shoulders and turned her towards him instead.  “I don’t blame you for what happened, and neither does Spock, I promise you.  It was he who taught me to understand when…  the cause is sufficient.”

 

She wouldn’t look at Jim, and he could sense her clinging to her mental barriers.  Taking a chance, needing to comfort her, Jim put his arms around Ysaulte in a deliberately loose embrace.  After a moment’s stiff surprise, she leaned against him with a sigh.  Jim held her as she trembled; a little dismayed to find her inner defenses still securely locking away her mind.

 

Feeling strangely excluded; he mulled over what he’d been able to intercept of Ysaulte’s and Spock’s conversation.  His first officer had given her some kind of warning, he thought.  About what?  Her powerful telepathy, and her use of it on himself, Jim?  He concluded intuitively he was correct, cradling the ZaworthIan with such delicacy that she sensed only his wish to console her.

 

It never occurred to her to fear the implications of standing in a man’s arms.

 

“I’m sorry, Ysaulte,” he whispered into her hair.

 

“Ah, James, it was not Spock…  not who he is.”  Her spoken voice was strangled with unshed tears.

 

“Then you tell me about it, any way you want to.  Don’t be afraid.  You won’t hurt me.”

 

Her psionic barriers dissolved under Jim’s urging, her spirit crying with the tears that spilled out of those stormy eyes.

 

“Let it go, honey.”  Jim drew her nearer and rocked her, feeling her bereavement closing his throat.  She needed, and he needed to help.  He held her for long minutes while she wept soundlessly in his arms.

 

Ysaulte let his care soak into her, filling the places scoured empty by grief.  The fire of his personality permitted no shadows, offering an irrepressible love of life…  an elixir of hope.

 

“James.”

 

“Sorrow shared is sorrow eased,” he thought in response to her faintly embarrassed gratitude.

 

“Sword thou art, so too a shield, James.”

 

Ysaulte’s words crept into Jim’s mind with the air of ancient ritual around them, betraying such painful hesitancy that Jim wanted to cry, himself.  Her trust in him was a fragile bubble, drifting in the rush of her confusion.

 

“What happened between you and Spock, Ysaulte?”

 

“It was made plain to me, I must not overtake thy mind.  I had no wish to do so, James!”

 

“I know that, and so will Spock.  He…  was trying to protect me,” Jim confessed, recognizing his first officer’s misgivings.  There was little doubt the ZaworthIan’s telepathy was strong enough to overwhelm any of them, except perhaps Spock himself.

 

“I would not see thee harmed, James.  If I so believed this was ill done, I should cut out mine own heart,” Ysaulte swore unsteadily in voice and mind.

 

“I believe you.”  And he did, Jim realized.  He had no fear of Ysaulte’s psionic abilities.  Underneath the surface uproar of her unsettled emotions, there was an ethical fidelity as pure and unblemished as Spock’s.  So why couldn’t Spock see it?

 

“I could not give him the measure of my thoughts,” Ysaulte answered his unspoken question with the honesty Jim felt in all their discussions.

 

“You can’t expose yourself,” he concluded correctly.

 

“I cannot, not to him,” she said, suddenly angry with herself.

 

“He is my friend, Ysaulte.”

 

“I know, James.  He loves thee, in his way, but for me he is too like another…  I know there is illogic in this.  I am trying to think it through, but it is so difficult.”

 

“Give it time, Ysaulte.  You need more time and it will all work out…  but don’t try to block yourself off.  You have to have someone to ‘talk’ to.  Wouldn’t it hurt you to stifle your telepathy?”

 

“James, you see me too clearly, I think,” Ysaulte said, wondering briefly why that seemed to be so.  Calm restored, she pulled free of his arms, something he rather reluctantly let her do.

 

“It’s getting late,” Jim reminded her.

 

“And Etumuuyea awaits.”

 

As if her words had been a signal, the wall-comm whistled.

 

“Bridge to Captain Kirk.”

 

Jim grinned at her and moved to the comm.

 

“Kirk here.”

 

“Spock here, Captain.  We are in orbit around the planet Muuye.  The Negus ul Etumuuyea will meet with us at zero-nine-hundred hours, our time.”

 

“Affirmative.  Thank you, Spock.  Kirk out.”  He looked at Ysaulte.  “There you have it.”

 

“You are worried about the mission,” she divined from the look on his face.

 

“Yes.  Diplomacy isn’t always my strong suit, Ysaulte, and these kinds of situations invariably demand it.  Etumuuyea has been a Federation member for twenty Standard years, and I don’t think anybody anticipated the current problems.”

 

“This system is not so far from Rihannsu space that they can afford to forego Star Fleet, unless…”

 

“Unless they have no reason to fear the Romulans.”  Jim rubbed one hand over his neck.  “That could open up a whole new can of worms there.”

 

“A ‘can of worms’?”  Ysaulte echoed, then giggled despite herself and her ambassadorial dignity…  of which she had very little with this man, anyway, she admitted with a mental shrug.

 

“Not a laughing matter, Ambassador,” Jim pretended to scold, but his stern demeanor was spoiled by a grin he couldn’t hide.  Scotty had been right, watching her laugh was like watching clouds lift.

 

“Will you beam down with us in the morning?”  He invited to her nod.

 

“Yes.  Better I give ZaworthIa’s news soon.”

 

“Have you been there before?”

 

“No.  I have been shuttling back and forth between Sol-Terra and ZaworthIa for the past six months.  Cilehe was a… how do you say… side trip.”  She met his curious gaze.  “I shall tell you about it some time.”

 

“All right, Ysaulte.”

 

They started companionably toward the corridor, shoulders almost touching, the quiet between them easy and warm as they took the lift to deck five.

 

 Jim walked Ysaulte to her door before he said anything, placing one hand on her arm to stop her before she could go in.

 

“Ysaulte, about Spock…”  He looked at her for a moment, marking the loss of color his words engendered.  Her eyes had gone that dark purplish-gray he was beginning to associate with her apprehension.

 

“Spock is… disquieted by the thought that he… upset you.  Please, don’t hold it against him.”

 

As he watched, her irises cleared to a sure, brilliant blue.

 

“I should forgive him anything, James, an that he act from his love of thee.”  The deep integrity in her unvoiced promise slid over his mind, relieving an incipient headache, and Jim decided he wouldn’t explore the ramifications of her statement just then.

 

“Thank you, Ysaulte.”

 

“Surely, it is I who owe thanks in all this.”

 

“I don’t think so, but we’ll just say it works both ways.”  Jim smiled at her and watched the color run back into her face, brightening her eyes.

 

“Good night, Lady Ysaulte.”

 

“Rest well, Captain.”

 

Jim waited until her door closed then headed up to the bridge for one last turn.  Even when the lift took him level past level away from Ysaulte, he could sense her presence somehow.  The knowledge brought an unexpected security.  He would know if she needed him.

 

***

 

Ysaulte leaned wearily against the shower stall.  Despite the long nap she’d had earlier, rest had proven elusive… but not tonight.  Not even the low hum of the sonics hid the distant satisfaction she felt from James.  He was not unsettled, nor unbalanced by her influence… had he been, she would have perceived it.  Therefore, the Vulcan’s warning, while well meant, was unnecessary.  James could well ‘fend himself.  As for his task below, Ysaulte thought she might be of some assistance there, if only in determining the sincerity of their host.

 

She caught herself dozing in the shower and lazily programmed a sleepshift, yawning as it materialized around her.  Padding barefoot across the room, she collapsed bonelessly onto her bunk and closed her eyes.  Strange as it seemed, she was still aware of the Terran captain’s mind.  Giving over to sleep came easy.  Had he need of her, she would know it… 

 

***

 

Jim looked over the sensor readings one last time, as always, feeling better for checking.  Save a few ships in spacedock around Muuye, space was clear, and long-range scans were equally unrevealing.

 

Spock watched him with the faintest tilt of his lips.  He was not unused to his captain’s habitual compulsion for thoroughness.  It reflected his own.

 

“What time of day will zero-nine-hundred hours be on Muuye, Spock?”  It occurred to Jim to wonder.

 

“Mid-day, Captain.”  Spock’s elusive smile appeared for a brief moment.  “The Negus has invited us for lunch.”

 

Jim muffled a sigh, afraid to ask what constituted Muuyea cuisine.

 

“I think I’ll turn in.  You, Spock?”

 

“Yes, Captain.  It has been a ‘long day’.”  The irony in the Vulcan’s tone was not lost on his friend.

 

Spock turned the conn over to the gamma shift lieutenant and left the bridge with Jim.  They walked in silence until they reached Jim’s quarters, where Jim waved the Vulcan inside and into a chair.  Jim seated himself near Spock and gave his friend a speculative look.

 

“I’ve been thinking, Spock, and you have every right to be concern-  er, disquieted…  by the fact that your commanding officer has been in mental contact with an alien life form, but Spock, she doesn’t feel like an alien.”  Jim laughed, shaking his head.  “That sounds inane, I guess, but the point is, there’s only one way I can think of for you to be… reassured.”

 

Spock’s eyebrow arched as he perceived Jim’s intent.

 

“A mind meld.”

 

“Yes.  You’ll be able to ‘see’ whether she’s too…”  Jim shrugged, not sure which word to use, and watched Spock for his reaction.

 

“Indeed, the suggestion is quite logical, Captain.”  Only Jim could have appreciated the surprise in the Vulcan’s voice.

 

“Scary, isn’t it?”

 

The corner of Spock’s mouth twitched, and Jim felt himself relaxing.  If it were possible, he’d like to resolve this without hurting Ysaulte any further.  In a sense, it had been her idea, albeit indirectly.  She wasn’t able to open her thoughts to Spock, being faced with a lack of trust in both the Vulcan and herself.  It would take time for her to regain her self-confidence, and worrying about what Spock was going to do would only delay that…  and most of all, Jim thought Spock could help Ysaulte, if she could let him.

 

“Very well, Jim.”  Leaning toward him, Spock placed his fingers against Jim’s face, sliding into his mind with his accustomed ease.

 

“See?  I am still… me.”

 

“Yes.  You are still you, Jim.”

 

The laughter Spock never voiced welled into Jim’s perception, carried in the silvery clarity of the Vulcan’s thoughts, where his affection overlay a very real relief.

 

“What’s really bothering you about this?”  Jim asked.

 

There was no evading the question, not while they were locked in mind.  Spock confessed his distrust, and its source…  too well remembered were their previous encounters with psionically advanced beings.  Charlie X.  The Platonian, Parmen.  Apollo.  Sargon.  Tremaine.  And most particularly, Gary Mitchell…

 

“She’s not like them, Spock, not like any of them.  Let me show you.”  Memories swirled between them as Jim shared his impressions…  that first, almost accidental linkage when he had touched Ysaulte and betrayed his recognition of her thoughts.

 

“She saw it in my mind, and I couldn’t lie to her, Spock.  I don’t think it’s possible.  You were right… she was devastated.  She offered up her life in reparation.”

 

“What did you do?”  Spock was curious to know how his human friend had handled the ZaworthIan.

 

“I told her… the cause was sufficient.  Just like you told me, Spock.”

 

“Jim.”  Sudden, startled pride, quickly controlled, but undeniable.

 

“Spock, I have learned something, and so has Ysaulte,” Jim’s thoughts tumbled over into speech in his haste to gain Spock’s understanding.  “She’s learned that humanity can be tolerant, and forgiving, and supportive.”

 

“But it is not merely for the ambassador’s personal benefit that you allow her telepathy,” Spock pointed out dryly.

 

Jim felt his face warming, but made no effort to shield himself from his friend.  Their own link was too strong, too true.

 

“No, not just for her, and not just to make the Federation look good, and not just for diplomacy, either, although those are all valid reasons."  Jim marked Spock's agreement before continuing.  “I don’t pretend to understand it, but it’s not really a question of ‘allowing’ Ysaulte’s telepathy, you know.  There’s some kind of resonance between us, and it works two ways.”

 

Jim could actually feel Spock’s eyebrow lifting, and had to grin.

 

“The ambassador is an extremely powerful telepath, Jim,” Spock warned, half-afraid his captain was deluding himself.  “Her psionic abilities are such that she could make you believe whatever she wished.”

 

“Spock, I wish you could ‘see’ her the way I do.  She’s been hurt, terribly hurt, and she’s fragile…” Jim’s mental tone grew unexpectedly tender.  “She’s not hiding anything from me, and I can take care of myself.  She won’t hurt me.”

 

“How do you know this?”  Spock asked, almost exasperated.

 

“Because she told me so, and there can be no falsehood mind-to-mind,” Jim quoted Ysaulte deliberately, and let Spock see that, too.

 

“Regulations__”

 

“Don’t quote me regulations!”  Jim said with aggravation.  “I asked you to do this so you could see she’s not trying to influence my mind.  Have you found any evidence that is the case?”

 

“I am not certain.”

 

“I am.”  The voice unbidden, sweeping through both men with the brilliant shock of a thunderstorm, all elemental force.  “Doth thou then presume to think thy friend is less than thee, or me?”  Clear anger in the words, cast over them with ZaworthIan sorcery.

 

Spock’s head rocked back in surprise.  He had not suspected Ysaulte’s presence.

 

“Because I wished it unknown,” Ysaulte answered bluntly, sparing him nothing.  “Name me telepath thou doth, so shall I serve.  It seems to me thou art unjust, Spock of Vulcan.  This Terran… there is that about him which marks him.  On the world of my birth, he would be named du’Mes Ilya’ar sha’deh, belonging as the Sisters, one to be defended unto death and deserving especial favor.  Tell me, thou art not knowing this truth.  Tell me, he is as any other.  Tell me I am in error, and I shall never seek his thoughts again…  but that thou cannot do, lest thou name him less.”

 

Her silent words pierced their minds with implacable accuracy, incorruptible, and the Lady demanded reply.

 

***

 

Ysaulte had awakened abruptly, scant minutes after falling asleep.  She was coolly aware of having curled her body into a fetal position.  Some disturbance along the periphery of her defenses… James?

 

With meticulous delicacy, she freed her thoughts from corporeal confines, sending her mental energy along the mystery of that formless bond with James.  Reflexive alarm dissipated as she discovered him in meld, with his Vulcan friend.  She held herself aloof, determined not to interfere, but curious.”

 

“…she’s not trying to influence my mind.  Have you found any evidence that is the case?”

 

“I am not certain.”

 

The Vulcan, doubting James?  Cold rage smoked through Ysaulte.  He dared?  Was it not enough that he questioned her own integrity, and that he question James?

 

Where self-protection had not moved her, the impulse to defend the Terran did, and she injected herself into their psionic conversation without hesitation… all fear forgotten as she confronted the Vulcan on his own insecurities.

 

***

 

“Ysaulte!”  Jim was conscious of a varying range of sensations, her accusation toward Spock staggering him with its furious expectation.

 

“Spock?”  Surely, Ysaulte was not right.  Surely, Spock didn’t really believe__

 

“No.  No, Jim.  That is not how I… feel.”  Despite his wish to break this meld and shield himself, Spock held steadfast, allowing his devotion to reassure.  It came to him abruptly; in this, he could not fault the ZaworthIan.  She plainly sought only to protect Jim.  There was no denying her motivation.  The truth Jim had tried to tell him about did exist within Ysaulte.

 

Spock submitted his comprehension, sensing that wild force of thought would brook no evasion.  He was relieved by the singular awareness of Ysaulte backing down, and equally aware she remained watchful.

 

Jim, having steadied himself, was less prepared to be understanding.

 

“This does not concern you, Ysaulte.  This is a private matter between Spock and me.  You have no right to suspect his loyalty.”  The reprimand was clear.

 

“Forgive me, James, but it is not his loyalty that is suspect.  It is mine, yes?  And perhaps, yours?”

 

“Specify.”  Spock requested.

 

“You think he is swayed by my impulses,” Ysaulte concluded.

 

“I did… but I may have been mistaken,” Spock admitted wryly, amusing both Jim and Ysaulte.

 

“I hold no allegiance toward the Federation, nor Star Fleet.  In this, you are correct, Commander, and this I can accept.  I urge you to believe me when I tell you, I am loyal to James.”  Ysaulte spoke with utter honesty, offering an olive branch.

 

Spock was willing to meet her halfway.

 

“I can believe it, but I am forced to wonder why.”

 

Ysaulte was a little startled by the silvery clarity of Spock’s thoughts meeting hers… the Vulcan was strong in will.

 

“I do not know if I can explain it, but James gave back my life, even more, he made it worth living.  It is not the Vulcan way, nor the Terran way, but it is what Is.  I swear to thee, I shall see him neither harmed nor made less while I am with him.  So it doth be, sworn on mine oath.”  There was no doubting her absolute sincerity.

 

“I accept your oath, Ambassador.  Welcome on board the Enterprise.”

 

“This time, I believe you mean that, Commander.  On my world we would say ‘S’elahs drei kha’ar du Ia’.  Blessed thou art in the All.  If you wish, I would invite you to address me as Ysaulte.”

 

A tenuous acceptance extended, and received.  Jim waited…

 

“Then you must call me Spock.”

 

“So it shall be.”

 

With the words, the ZaworthIan was gone, leaving Spock and Jim once more alone within meld.  The Vulcan, struck into sharing his wonder, relaxed his normally strict control and betrayed his astonishment.

 

“She has a remarkable capacity for self-direction,” he commented, prompting a silent chuckle from Jim.

 

“You, Mister Spock, are a master of understatement.  The Lady is remarkable, period.”  Jim sighed.  “You were mistaken, you know.  Why would you think Ysaulte would be too strong minded for me, after all these years with you?”  Although asked with mild humor, the question was no less earnest.

 

“I… feared… I might have sensitized your mind to the use of the mind meld, and weakened your mental defenses.”  Some vague hint of guilt shadowed Spock’s thoughts, communicating to Jim his friend’s dread of overrunning a weaker will.  “In any case, the ambassador was not wrong to question me, Jim,” Spock conceded.  The psionic confrontation had clarified some things for all of them, the Vulcan believed.

 

He gently broke the meld and wished his captain good night.

 

***

 

Ysaulte presented herself at the transporter room with apprehension.  The Healer had been satisfied with her progress and declared her fit for beaming down, but anxiety sang along her nerves at a volume that made Ysaulte herself wonder.  Was it the Vulcan?  She didn’t think so.  She thought that situation had been pretty well resolved last night… but she couldn’t dismiss an uneasy feeling.  Perhaps the prospect of discussing Federation membership with the Negus?  She’d never been to the Etumuuyea system before, and ZaworthIa’s Elders weren’t too sure how the Etumuuyea were going to react to their joining the Federation…

 

Then the doors opened to admit James and the landing party, and Ysaulte forgot everything else in the face of the Terran’s bright energy.

 

“Good morning, Ambassador!”  Much to her surprise, James walked over to her and offered her a small, Fleet-issue communicator.

 

“This may be redundant,” and the captain grinned with wicked amusement, “but I’d feel better if you had one.  Ready to beam down?”

 

Ysaulte looked past him to catch McCoy’s smile, and even the Vulcan’s lips were faintly slanted.  Unable to help herself, she chuckled out loud, taking the communicator from Jim.

 

“Thank you, Captain.  Yes, I am ready.”  Shaking her head, she secured the communicator to her waist.  She’d decided on a plain black coverall, reminiscent of a flight suit.  She’d thought it serviceable and concealing.  What she didn’t realize was the color lent her skin an alabaster glow and turned her hair into fire.  Jim could appreciate the effect, even though the ZaworthIan had restrained her hair into a severe knot at the nape of her neck.

 

“Ambassador,” Jim motioned her onto the transporter platform, curious when she took a position to the rear.  Did she still feel so vulnerable, or was it her wish to be an unobtrusive observer?  He laughed to himself, thinking she could never be unobtrusive…  Spock and McCoy took positions beside him, and Jim nodded to Kyle.

 

“Energize.”

 

***

 

They materialized in an open, airy plaza, for which Ysaulte was grateful.  She disliked beaming into enclosed spaces, always expecting to find herself incorporated into a wall.

 

“Well, we beat the odds again, Ysaulte,” the Healer murmured into her ear.  She opened her thoughts enough to realize his distrust of the transporter was greater than her own, and grinned at him in commiseration.

 

Jim confirmed their safe arrival with the ship, then they were met by a short, squat, bipedal humanoid whose features were pinched into a universally bureaucratic scowl.

 

“Greetings, Captain Kirk and party.”  The tone sounded like anything but a greeting.  “The Negus ul Etumuuyea will receive you at once.  Right this way, please.”  The human courtesy rang sour, especially when the being turned immediately away without awaiting a response.  He led them into a tall, stony edifice, full of long marbled halls that were covered with lurid artwork.

 

Ysaulte was glad of McCoy’s presence as he escorted her along the interminable corridors behind Spock and the captain.  The paintings and sculpture disturbed her for some reason she couldn’t quite define, and she felt her skin crawling.

 

“What’s wrong?”  McCoy whispered, noticing her involuntary grimace.

 

“How is it said?  I have a bad feeling about this?”  She answered softly, motioning around them.  The doctor stared at her thoughtfully, but didn’t have time to reply before the ‘greeter’ showed them into an ornate cavity of a room and left.

 

Ysaulte began inspecting the tapestry that lined the walls from floor to ceiling, depicting what she assumed were scenes from Muuye’s history.  Epic battles…  maidens fair… ferocious animals… and a starscape.

 

“James?”  She called within mind automatically.

 

“Yes, what is it, Ysaulte,” Jim asked after a momentary surprise.

 

“Look at this.”

 

Jim walked over to join her, his attention on the tapestry she indicated.  Woven stars and planets in more than one solar system.

 

“The Etumuuyea system, and…” Jim indicated an amber sun, bracketed by a pair of green-gold planets.  “Isn’t that_”

 

“Ch’Rihan and ch’Havran.  Yes, I think it is.”

 

Further speculation was prevented by the arrival of a tall, gaunt man clothed in a simple blue robe.  His eyes were dark and unreadable, shielding his emotions with Vulcan efficiency.  Ysaulte could find no similarity between him and the greeter, and wondered which was native to this particular planet.

 

“Ah.  Welcome, all.  I am Ryu Gnaur.”  He held out both hands and clapped sharply, a gesture of salute according to the briefing tapes, Jim recalled.

 

“You must be Captain Kirk.  You see, your reputation has preceded you.”

 

Jim was not quite sure how to respond to that, so he bowed politely and introduced his companions.

 

“My first officer and science officer, Commander Spock, my chief medical officer, Doctor McCoy, and the LadyYsaulte d’Aeviane, Ambassador to the Federation from the planet ZaworthIa.”

 

“Ah.   Ambassador d’Aeviane.  We expected you some days ago,” the Negus mentioned, peering at Ysaulte in such a way that the ZaworthIan was immediately on guard.

 

“I had some problems with my craft, and the captain was kind enough to offer me transportation,” Ysaulte returned smoothly, unaware her irises had gone as space dark as the Etumuuyea’s.

 

“Hmmm.”  The Negus clapped again, hands waist high.  “No matter.  Welcome.  All of Muuye has awaited your visit.”

 

Ryu Gnaur’s voice was low, pleasant to the ear and exquisitely polite, yet Ysaulte had the sure sense of a threat.  She shared her impressions with James, who acknowledged her warning without exterior reaction.

 

“We’re honored to be here, Your Excellency.  Unfortunately, none of us have been to your system before,” Jim announced calmly, wondering what Ysaulte found so menacing but willing to accept her assessment.

 

“Ah.  Then you must allow me to recommend some local points of interest.  There are many things I believe you will find enjoyable.”  The Negus showed his teeth in a smile that didn’t quite reflect in his eyes.

 

“Thank you, Your Excellency.”

 

A uniformed servitor appeared at the end of the room, emerging from an almost concealed door.

 

“Ah.  Is lunch prepared, Agnius?  Very well.  Gentlemen, Lady, will you share midmeal with me?  Then, perhaps, we can get down to business…  is that not the Terran phrase?”  The Etumuuyea waited for their reply with an oddly watchful expression.

 

“Yes, thank you, Your Excellency.”

 

“Wonderful.  If you would just follow Agnius.”

 

Ysaulte found herself being escorted by the Negus himself.  Bolstering her shields to deliberately deaden her mind, she rested her fingertips on the sleeve of his offered arm and allowed him to accompany her.  The servitor Agnius lead them through the inner door into a smaller, more intimate chamber.  A dining table groaned under the weight of an assortment of foods and serving ware, illuminated with sunlight from a pair of large windows that the Negus walked Ysaulte over to.

 

“Permit me to show you the view, Lady d’Aeviane.”

 

Ysaulte felt her breath catch in her throat as she looked out onto their surroundings.  Dark mountains rose forbiddingly austere against a rose-tinted sky.  It was a vista hidden from the plaza level by the building in which they stood.

 

“Those are the ul’Nru ranges,” Ryu Gnaur announced.

 

“Exceptional, Sir.  What does it mean, translated?”

 

“Ah.  The nearest translation would be ‘that which belongs to the dead’.  My Muuyea forebears believed the spirit world lay beyond the ranges.”

 

“Understandable,” Ysaulte replied softly, thinking the ul’Nru stared back, impervious.  She could well imagine them restraining eternity.  She edged away, feeling the Etumuuyea too near.  The Negus turned from the window and seated her, taking a place to her left.

 

Jim ignored protocol and sat at Ysaulte’s right.  She was uneasy.  Bones and Spock sat as well, the Vulcan calmly inspecting the offered fare.

 

“I am told that there are those among you who do not eat animal flesh, and for this reason, the dishes have been identified.”  The Negus motioned to the small cards beside each serving platter, then gestured toward the servitor.  “Agnius will assist you if you have questions.”

 

“That’s mighty thoughtful of you, Your Excellency,” McCoy drawled, and Jim realized his chief medical officer didn’t care much for the Negus, either.  He doubted anyone else had noticed, then he caught Spock’s eyebrow lifting.

 

“Ah.  We wish only your comfort, Doctor McCoy.”

 

The servitor poured them each a measure of brown liquid from a glass decanter, beginning with Ryu Gnaur and finishing with Ysaulte.  When he finished, the Negus raised his glass, inclining his head in the captain’s direction.

 

“A Terran custom.  I drink to your health, Captain!”  The Etumuuyea tossed back the drink with a flourish.

 

“And to yours, Your Excellency,” Jim responded with a cautious sip, the remainder of the Enterprise contingent following suit.

 

Ysaulte sensed a strange relief emanating from the servitor, too late comprehending its significance.

 

“No!  James!”  Horrified, she watched helplessly as first James, then McCoy and Spock crumpled to the floor… then her own vision grew dim as her body lost strength.

 

Once again, Ysaulte found herself fighting to maintain consciousness, focusing her energy within.

 

“Poisoned!  We are poisoned!”  She felt her body being moved, but did not struggle, directing her force of will on the foreign substance she had consumed.  Isolating the essential character of the toxin, Ysaulte rallied her immune responses and washed the potion from her system, neutralizing its effects on her mind.  Careful not to reveal her efforts, she reached for Jim’s thoughts, panicked by the initial blankness she met.

 

Resolutely pushing her fear aside, she searched inside herself for a fading remnant of the psionic linkage they’d shared.  Following that thin thread of perception, the ZaworthIan sent herself in-mind, rewarded with some sense of his presence… so distant!

 

“James!  Hold on,” she ordered silently.  “Thank blessed Za you are not dead!”  Surrounding him with her intensity, Ysaulte sheltered Jim’s spirit; lending him that pure strength he had so recently given her.

 

Ignoring the sensation of her physical body being rather roughly dropped to the ground, Ysaulte stimulated the Terran’s liver and kidneys into metabolizing the poison into an inert state.

 

“James?”

 

“Ysaulte!  Spock and Bones__”

 

“Fear not, my friend.”  Reassured to Jim’s continued existence, Ysaulte freed her thoughts, feeling his consciousness returning to his body with a rush.  “Do not move, James.  I do not know who watches, yet.”

 

Guarding her mind, she set herself to retrieve Leonard’s faltering awareness, restoring homeostasis in him with the ease of long practice.  Easier, this time…  but to heal the Vulcan?  Panic threatened her, yet she cast her thoughts into the mental wind, moved mainly by her desire to keep Jim well and happy…  and he had need of this one.  The fire of Spock’s will appeared within her inner vision, banked under self-protection, barriers immutable.  Sas’heeit’chma!  This would be difficult!

 

Ysaulte steadied herself.  Was she not a Healer, herself?  She could well do this.  Hiding the doubts caused by Marlak’s attack beneath years of training and experience, she opened her heart.

 

“Vulcan, attend me!”  Thoughts bared to the chastity of being that was Spock’s core self, she reached for him through Jim, for the Vulcan held her no emotional ties with which to bind…  then he was with her, searing her soul in the unguarded moments it took her to maneuver his health.  At last, she witnessed his slide back into reality, and could return to her own.

 

She opened her eyes to unpleasant exhaustion, bone deep.

 

“Ysaulte.”  Jim’s spoken voice, like honey warming.  His anxious face swam into view as her pupils dilated to accommodate the unexpected darkness of their surroundings.  Small windows cut into high, rocked and mortared walls.  Not a dungeon?  Blinking slowly, she became aware that Jim held her upper body away from a dusty stone floor.  It was a dungeon, Jim and Leonard were crouched over her, Spock watched by the door, and the four of them were quite alone.

 

“Are you all right?”  Jim’s voice calmed her, and she touched his thoughts with great relief.

 

”James.  I am fine, now.  Are you unhurt?”

 

Jim’s face warmed with Ysaulte’s intense concern, his arms tightening around her involuntarily.  She leaned into his embrace, relaxing the stranglehold she was keeping over her mortal fear, and theirs…  Jim sheltered her while cold terror shook them both, then Ysaulte mastered it into memory, freely accepting his steadying strength.

 

Their minds unlocked to the degree that he sensed her only at the periphery of his thoughts.  Loosening his embrace, Jim helped the ZaworthIan to her feet, balancing her when she swayed.  Presently, her vision cleared with her head, and Jim stepped away at her gesture.

 

“Then it is, indeed, a dungeon,” she remarked absently, surveying their quarters with wry humor and noting the fact that all their equipment was gone.

 

“It would appear so, Lady Ysaulte,” Spock answered, his dry tone not unkind.  “The captain, Doctor McCoy, and I consider ourselves quite familiar with this style of architecture.”

 

She felt Jim’s amused acknowledgement of a dozen jailbreaks on that many planets.

 

“I had no idea Star Fleet trained for this type of activity,” she noted with a faint smile.

 

“A lot of on-the-job training, Ysaulte,” McCoy quipped.

 

Jim sighed, grateful to the bottom of his soul that the ZaworthIan appeared none the worse for wear.  She turned to look at him, startled by his emotion, and he drew himself up to grave attention.

 

“Ysaulte.  Thank you.  We do know what you did for us.”  He gestured to his officers, who watched with solemn expressions.  Ysaulte blushed, then paled…  and Jim could sense her inward shivering.

 

“This need not be said,” she whispered, her heart betraying the truth to Jim’s mind.  “This I did for thee, on mine oath.”

 

As if she’d frightened herself with the blunt honesty of her reaction, her shielding shunted him out of her mind with painless reflex.

 

“I won’t forget.  We won’t forget.”

 

Ysaulte paced over to the barred door and peered down a dank corridor.  She could hear no noises to indicate the presence of other prisoners, and she was not willing to press her power of thought without some time to rest it.

 

Jim accepted her withdrawal, aware of her need for some distance.  He himself felt a little raw, simultaneously emptied and filled.  Standing between Spock and Bones, he allowed himself the comfort of their living warmth, and thanked the gods for Ysaulte’s intervention.

 

“Recommendations, gentlemen?”

 

“It’s hard to make recommendations when you don’t understand what the hell is going on, Jim,” McCoy griped.

 

“Obviously, we were set up, but why?”  Jim paced.  “I wonder if the Romulans are involved.”

 

“Unknown without further data, Captain.”

 

“That drug was intended to keep us unconscious for a long time,” Ysaulte put in from the door, still looking out into the hallway.

 

“So they might not have meant to kill us with it,” McCoy concluded.

 

“Cold comfort, Doctor.”  Jim grimaced.  “What do they intend to do?”

 

“We will be overdue for check-in in six point four two minutes, Captain.  Mister Scott will be alerted by our failure to respond,” Spock reminded him unobtrusively, aware that Jim’s time sense was not as acute as his own.

 

“Thank you, Spock.”  Jim wondered what Scotty would do when he failed to reach them.

 

“James, an thou wish it, I can call upon thy chief engineer,” Ysaulte volunteered, not sure the Terran would think of the possibility.

 

“You’re right, I hadn’t thought of it,” Jim answered, the inflection in his tone drawing a raised eyebrow from his first officer.

 

“Someone approaches,” Ysaulte warned, catching a disturbance.

 

Jim joined her, watching the barred gate at the end of the corridor swing open.  The servitor Agnius came down the hall with another man.

 

Ysaulte gasped, and Jim felt her horrified shock as if it was his own.  His hands shot out to support her as she reeled.

 

“Who is it?  Ysaulte?” 

 

The man stepped under a wall sconce, and Jim’s throat tightened as the light revealed the stranger’s features.

 

“Marlak!”

 

End Chapter Four