Chapter Five

         

“No!”  Ysaulte fought free of Jim’s grasp, her inner shielding at such sudden intensity that he felt the hair lifting on the back of his neck.

 

“I will not be afraid!”  She whispered hoarsely, her chin stubborn.  Her irises had gone slate gray, and Jim’s own spine straightened to attention.

 

Ysaulte spun back around to face the door, shoulders squared.  Part of her gratefully acknowledged the presence of Jim at her side, but she focused on the doorway with deliberate intent.  Marlak might not be too surprised to see her…  but he would not anticipate her calm.

 

To Jim’s everlasting respect, Ysaulte stretched herself, loosening up to the degree that she stood in a casual slouch when the door was pushed open.  It was a posture that completely repudiated any demand of respect.  He moved away just enough to lend credence to her attitude, but not so far that she might be endangered.

 

Spock touched the doctor on the arm, and they both moved nearer the captain.  Ysaulte could feel them behind her, and cleared her thoughts of all emotion… all fear.  Jim’s confidence in his own existence was like a guarantee, she pondered in that instant of time before her kinsman appeared in the aperture.

 

“Well met, Aesaulte’h.  I had heard you managed passage off Cilehe.”  The Romulan stood and stared, casually holding a disruptor on them.

 

Ysaulte’s skin crawled at the sound of that voice despite her best efforts.  She prayed for strength.

 

“Semper fi, Lady fair.”  Jim sent such silent support as came through even her mind’s barriers, and she resolved to ask him some day about the might weight of tradition invested in the words…  and the very notion that there would be a ‘some day’ was enough to give her heart. 

 

She inclined her head in a polite nod.

 

“I have chosen good company.”

 

“Constitution class, ZaworthIan.”  Marlak turned to the little servitor with a wave of dismissal.  “The Lady d’Aeviane is my responsibility now, Agnius.”

 

“The Negus_”  The servitor protested.

 

“The Negus will be compensated.”

 

The tone brooked no argument, and the servitor’s footsteps echoed into the distance.

 

“I expected you would find your way onto the starship,” the Romulan remarked, his eyes on Ysaulte and ignoring the officers.  “How are they treating you… with your rather tarnished virtue?”

 

Ysaulte felt rather than saw Spock and Bones grabbing their captain by the arms and restraining him.  Felt, on some deeply subliminal level, the Terran’s pure fury.  It gave her the strength to look at Marlak and shrug.

 

“’Assume a virtue, if you have it not’,” she quoted to the Romulan, her tone a masterpiece of unconcern.

 

“Hamlet, act three, scene four,” Spock told Jim soundlessly, adding, “She is ‘handling’ it.  Observe," and Jim relaxed enough for his friends to turn him loose.

 

“You’ve changed, Aesaulte’h,” Marlak was telling her idly, motioning with the disruptor.  “I thought you’d be a bit more…  afraid.”

 

“Afraid?  Of you?”  Incredibly, the ZaworthIan laughed.  “I believe it is you who should be afraid, tr’Ahkennsai.”

 

Marlak’s face flushed olive, then paled as Ysaulte lifted her hands in a gesture that encompassed herself and the Star Fleet officers.

 

“Kha’el du’Mes Ilya’ar sha’deh.”  The subtle threat in the lyrical words was clear for anyone who had the wit to detect it…  and Marlak had pilfered more than enough of Ysaulte’s thoughts to translate her meaning.  These men had earned her protection, and would be defended unto the ZaworthIan homeworld.

 

“Indeed.”  Marlak regarded Jim, an oddly hungry regret etched into his expression.  “Of course, you counteracted the poison.”

 

“It was not lethal, and I am no frail Terran to be easily killed,” Ysaulte replied.  Marlak bared his teeth in what passed for a Romulan smile.

 

“It was not lethal.  It was not so intended, in any case.”  He drew McCoy’s medical kit from his belt and tossed it to the doctor.  “The remedy is in there, Doctor McCoy.”

 

Marlak nodded at Jim.

 

“They would not have been damaged, Aesaulte’h.  Fortunately for them, I have sufficient riches, and no need of the reward they would bring in the Empire.”

 

“You are the fortunate one, Marlak.”

 

Jim had to suppress a chill as the Romulan’s eyebrow arched in a frighteningly familiar fashion.

 

“Tell me, Esteemed Lady, are you stronger?”

 

Ysaulte’s back stiffened at her cousin’s husky voiced question.  Her left hand extended to show her open palm, but Jim could see nothing submissive in her posture.  She looked down her nose at the Romulan, power suddenly crackling around her in almost visible brilliance.

 

“I am stronger.  It is well this is apparent to you.”  This time the threat was unmistakable.  Jim closed the distance to stand at her back, his officers at his. 

 

“They are not without their own protection, you know.”  Marlak looked past Ysaulte.  “Even I would not care to go against James T. Kirk and his Enterprise.  I am prepared to… bargain.  They are free to go, dear Aesaulte’h.  Unharmed.”  He stared at Ysaulte, that eyebrow a mocking salute.  “Hostage held, Aesaulte’h.”

 

Ysaulte shook her head.

 

“In that, you are unwise.  I am not hostage to you for them, nor they for me.  Think you I could not slay you in the next beat of your heart?"” She turned her palm over, fingers spread in elegant accusation.  To the astonishment of all four men, a ball of fiery energy appeared, to dance at her fingertips.

 

“That, too, I wished to know.”  Marlak forced a laugh.

 

Ysaulte allowed the assembled energy to slowly dissipate, reabsorbing it with careless arrogance, steeping herself in her bluff.

 

“Those legends, Aesaulte’h, are incomplete, at best.”

 

“You may believe that if you wish, heir of tr'Arriellus, but there is this.  I am a warrior, the child of my father, and his father before him.”

 

“It could be, that I underestimated you.  Slay me, then.  It is your right,” the Romulan dared.

 

“Thou shalt find death too easy, Rihannsu,” Ysaulte hissed, so much bitter vengeance in the words Marlak took an involuntary step back.

 

“Then it is not over, witch!”  He promised hoarsely, annoyed at betraying his fear.  Reaching just outside the door, he pitched in a rucksack containing their missing equipment.

 

“One of your ancestors, Kirk, said ‘discretion is the better part of valor’.  Spare the Negus your temper.  He acted on orders.  Aesaulte’h.  I await your vindication.”

 

With that cryptic farewell, Marlak left, pulling the door shut behind him but not locking it.  Jim’s hands went out__

 

“Do not touch me, James!”  Ysaulte bade him in a harsh whisper, flinching away.  She had drawn so much on her anger, she dared not risk any interruption to her control, and the starship captain was certainly that.

 

Jim stopped himself, his hand falling away from her shoulder.

 

“When you’re ready, Ysaulte.”  He scooped the bag off the floor and handed it to Spock.

 

“Spock to Enterprise.  Four to beam up, immediately.”

 

It was the last thing she heard as she closed out reality, locking her thoughts away within the dissolution of the transporter beam.

 

***

 

Ysaulte’s body crumbled as the particle beams released them.  Jim was quick enough to keep her head from striking the deck.  He picked her up bodily, startled to find her so limp.

 

“Bones!”

 

A fast scan with the feinberger, and the doctor was shaking his head.

 

“Shock, certainly, but it’s stabilizing…”  A comparison scan.  “I don’t see any pathological reason for her loss of consciousness, but I want her in Sickbay.”

 

“Spock, take the bridge.  Yellow alert, shields at full.  Increase our orbit by two hundred thousand kilometers.”  Jim tightened his grip on Ysaulte, at some level aware she was slipping out of his reach. 

 

“Affirmative, Captain.” 

 

Spock was as rapidly gone, moving with his usual economical grace.

 

“Let’s go, Bones.”  Jim carried Ysaulte to the medical section, taking her into the privacy of the isolation rooms.  He laid her on the exam table with great care, struck by the fragility of her still form.

 

McCoy ran another scan, hiding his own worry behind the action.

 

“The closest thing to her condition that I’m familiar with is Spock’s Vulcan self-healing trance.  Maybe this is something similar.  Physically, there’s nothing wrong with her.”

 

“How long__”

 

“I can’t answer that either, Jim.”  The doctor reached into a cabinet and pulled down a blanket, covering the ZaworthIan with the thermal folds.   “Give her some time.”

 

Jim wanted to argue, only just realizing how much he missed the touch of her thoughts, and how angry he was.

 

“God damn it, did he really think we’d go off and leave her with him?”  He burst out furiously, turning away from the sight of Ysaulte’s motionless form.

 

“I don’t understand why he let any of us go, Jim.  He had us__”

 

“He didn’t have us, Bones, and he knew it.  She could have killed him.”  And God knew she’d wanted to, Jim reminded himself.  He could still feel her colossal wrath at the Romulan’s reference to the price on their heads.  For a blinding moment, Ysaulte had wished Marlak dead with the sure knowledge she could make it so…  except for one thing.  “We were in her way.  She couldn’t take the chance that we wouldn’t get out.”

 

“But the Romulan wouldn’t have known that.”  McCoy nodded, understanding that much.  “She bluffed him.”

 

“I guess she did,” Jim murmured, swinging back around to touch Ysaulte’s cheek.

 

Bones stared at him sharply, seeing something in Jim’s face he didn’t think Jim was aware of.

 

“I’m going to run some tests on this antidote of Marlak’s.  I’ll be out there in the lab.”  He doubted whether the captain even heard him.

 

***

 

Ysaulte floated in free-fall, searching the stars for some measure of serenity.  She felt safer here, in the arms of the Infinite.  Her frustrated anger was diffusing into the emptiness of space, cooling her temper into clearer thinking.  She had ‘jumped’ without thinking, her only wish to get away.

 

Lingering, she sifted through the wreckage of her emotions, reviewing the situation.  It was the best way to making sense of the senseless, and second nature for her.  Actions…  reactions…  She had not felt herself ready, being insufficiently recovered, but now, considering it, Ysaulte realized she could have slain the Romulan where he stood, had he persisted in his threat to Jim and his friends.  The effort might well have seen her dead as well, leaving the Starfleet officers imprisoned and undefended.  She had shocked them, she feared.

 

Small wonder she felt so disoriented.  For a treacherous instant, she had wanted nothing further than to blast Marlak into ashes, reckless of consequences.  She had, she confessed to herself, forced herself to stop solely for Jim’s sake.  And what did it all mean?  She, who was bred to the healing arts, taught to revere life…  She had hungered for the death of another.  Did this reflect her own lack of hope?  Had she no real will to live any more?  Or more directly, did she care whether she lived or died? 

 

Did it matter?

 

“Sister.”

 

So much pain and compassion in the thoughts surrounding Ysaulte, holding her in the mind’s own gentle embrace.  Anthe, and the Sisters of the Council.   Ysaulte had not even perceived their approach.

 

“Ysaulte, how art thou left with this question?  Beloved, we implore thee.  Know this, thy continued presence in the life of the body is most dearly desired.”  The formal remonstrance, rendered so lovingly, carried the essence of her Sisters’ devotion into Ysaulte’s unbalanced soul.

 

“Oh, Sister, see we the cause…  overset thou art.  Had thee no alternative but to secure the Terrans in their need, but wast too much… to be faced so with the one!”

 

Their sympathy was more than Ysaulte could bear.  Did they not see how undeserving she was?  She cried out into the stellar winds, the words a scourge.

 

“I wanted him dead!”  Surrendering to the tearing pain, she screamed it again.  “I wanted him dead!  Mother Za forgive me, I wished him dead by mine own hand.”  Anguish swallowed too long burst free, along with her fear of their reaction, her loss of faith in her own ethical strength unhidden.

 

“Ysaulte.”  The voice unspoken of the Lady Eyra, her mother’s mother.  “Even our ancestors held in their wisdom there could be times when it is no sin to wish death, or deliver it.  Thou art taught to cherish life, my beloved, but thou art sha’deh du Khyn, a Sister of the Way, and thou art sworn to defense…  of thy homeworld, of thy people, of thy Sisters, and thyself.  None fault thee, whatever thy path.”

 

A surge of proud understanding caught Ysaulte closer.

 

“Thou art blood of my blood, daughter, and thou art a warrior.”

 

“See thou, Ysaulte, what the All hath intended?”  Another voice still, revealing the iron will of the Lady Ysidra, she who directed their planet’s protection.  “Instructed thou art, there be no lack of death in this galaxy.  Listen to Eyra.  There be a time to die, and most assuredly, there be a time to kill.  That is also the Way.  Doth thou presume to greater ethic than this?

 

 “Think thee it is not known,” and that harsh voice softened to warmth as great as Eyra’s.  “Thou art ever troubled by the fury of thy father’s blood.  In this, thy fears art groundless.  Thy pain does thee credit, Sister, for I perceive it sickens thee to thirst so for the Rihannsu’s death, but truly, I say unto Za, the one earned those feelings from thee.”

 

With the sweet push of energy that only Anthe could deliver, Ysaulte felt her inner self contained then caressed until the last curve of her mind had been unraveled.  As easily as she had assimilated it, Anthe redacted Ysaulte’s consciousness, leaving her memory undamaged but slanting it from her Sisters’ perspectives, taking away the immediacy of her pain and instantly giving her the healing passage of time.

 

“Beloved Ysaulte, taken out of bondage, thou art forgiven, and that this be thy need…  these Terrans art correct to name the cause sufficient.”

 

The guilty sorrow suspending Ysaulte’s responses began to give way under her Sisters’ combined support.  Their welcome relief filled her as she let her doubts slip away.  Anthe’s joy in her presence was palpable, and Ysaulte had to believe she was no less a part of this Circle than any here.

 

“Indeed, beloved, ever hath we need of thee.  Sorrow we would in thy passing to the life beyond life.”  Anthe tuned the harmonic brilliance of agreement around them, sensing Ysaulte’s mind swinging back into balance as her soul re-established its center.  True healing, at last within reach.

 

“I thought myself unworthy, my Lady Anthe,” Ysaulte confessed her most secret doubts regarding herself, something she had never actually confronted.

 

“Think thee this is not known?  We know this, we who art Sisters to thee, as doth thine own Mother Za.  There be no shame on thee in our eyes, only in thine own, and that without reason, Ysaulte who is Aesaulte’h.  Thou art of Za, and thou art of ch’Rihan, born to stand astride enemy worlds…  and thou art not without Talent.  Thou art ever ours, beloved.”

 

The acknowledgement set seal on Ysaulte’s restored equilibrium, illuminating her understanding of what was important.

 

“Sister I am to thee, Anthe.  Forgive me my disarray.”

 

“Ever so.”  The intensity of the healing bond melted into simple communication, as each Sister relaxed her life-grip and granted Ysaulte her autonomy of will.

 

“I should like to meet these Terrans,” Ysidra mused interestedly.

 

 “Had thou been unforced into facing the one, this Terran healing should have taken sure root.  This one, the starlord James…  how he hath supported thee!  Thou wert right, to name him ours, for he doth see past all defenses.  Can it be, Ysaulte, that we delay the Federation without cause?”

 

Years of reporting to the Lady Protector led Ysaulte to answer, her mixed impressions unguarded.

 

“I had doubts, and still I am unsure.  I do not believe the Terrans of Enterprise live like any others in the universe.  They are without peer, in that they share bondage like our own.  It is their strength.”

 

“Can it be the influence of the Vulcan?”  Ysidra asked sharply.  This was a question of great debate among the Sisters.  Had the presence of Vulcans in the Federation psionically altered the free will of the Terrans?  And if it had, how much more so would one of our Own do?  And how, then, to handle the Vulcans themselves, who had sworn against the overtaking of unshielded minds?

 

Attention was directed on Ysaulte with such fascinated curiosity she was a little hesitant with her reply.

 

“If it is so, I cannot say.  I have had the measure of Spock’s thoughts only once.  He is ever guarded, yet in this one thing he is betrayed, he lives in mind with James.  He is as one beloved, Sisters, even as we.”

 

Ysaulte’s attitude became more certain as she went on, in her innocence not noticing her Sisters’ subtle amusement.  Their Ysaulte recognized that warmth of spirit, after all…  The thought was banished before the one could catch it, but there was a good bit of satisfaction among Ysidra, Anthe, and Eyra.  It had been a good healing!

 

“It cannot be harmful for James…  I have had his thoughts on several occasions.”  Ysaulte finished slowly, aware of a mysterious sense of approval that vanished as soon as she began to focus her will. “For a Terran, he has no lack of Talent.”

 

“In this we art agreed, Sister,” Ysidra remarked, picking a likeness of that particular Terran from Ysaulte’s mind for all to ‘see’.  Ysaulte was forced to laugh at some of the rather ribald expressions of appreciation.

 

“Be truthful, daughter, doth the one find favor in thy eyes?”  The Lady Eyra wondered with a grandmother’s concern.  The other Sisters waited with interest, hoping very much indeed that Ysaulte would find a physical balance to the Rihannsu’s vicious attack.

 

“He does,” Ysaulte said, not resentful of the inquiry.  She had already come to accept there was something between her and Jim, something inexplicable, but no less real.

 

“And thee, Ysaulte?  Doth the starlord find favor in thee?”

 

“I think, perhaps.”

 

“Art thou then able to stay with them, for a while longer?”  Anthe asked, her tone conveying her approval of whatever Ysaulte wished. 

 

“James has offered me sanctuary, for as long as I require,” came her shy response, which drew a renewed wave of appreciation for the starship captain. 

 

“We will accept him, Ysaulte, and his, even as thou declared before the one.  Kha’el du’Mes Ilya’ar Sha’deh.  I would ask thee remember one thing…”  Anthe’s mind smiled through her astonishment with the Terran’s behavior.

 

“Yes, my K’intohrza?”

 

“Diplomacy is not everything!”

 

“Think thee this is not known?”  Ysaulte found herself saying, to the great enjoyment of all.

 

“Go thou then to the one, Sister.  He awaits thee… as we do.  Worry not over Ryu Gnaur and Etumuuyea, events there remain to unfold.  And hath thou need of us, hath thou only call,” Anthe directed, laughing at her ambassador.

 

“Ever so, my Sisters,” Ysaulte replied, riding the warmth of their psionic farewells.  She left behind three gratefully relieved Sisters, who thanked blessed Za for Her strength and guidance in healing.  Losing Ysaulte would have crippled them… and that Ysaulte had Za’s favor was well evident.

 

“We shall see them soon,” Eyra predicted in that breath of time before they passed into corporeal life.

 

“And that will be a joy to behold, neh?”  Anthe and Ysidra were still laughing as their reality assembled…

 

***

 

“Spock, let me get this straight.  The Negus wants to beam up at sixteen hundred hours, to talk about what happened?  Very well, tell him we will receive him, if he beams up alone.  I’d like to tell him he’d better be prepared to show just cause why we shouldn’t recommend the immediate expulsion of his system from the Federation.  At least we’d know where we stand!  Kirk out.”

 

Jim thumbed off the comm, aware without looking there had been some change in Ysaulte’s condition.

 

“Ysaulte?”

 

“James.”

 

He took her hands without hesitation, involuntarily betraying his worry, watching as her lashes parted to reveal irises gone serene blue.

 

“Are you all right, Ysaulte?”

 

She opened her thoughts to him, showing the framework of her healing.

 

“I far-sought my Sisters, James, for I had great need of their counsel.  I am well now, dear friend.”  The ZaworthIan’s sweet gratitude brought a flush to Jim’s face, but he grinned at her, hazel eyes shining.

 

“I’m glad.  I… missed you, Ysaulte,” he confessed, taking her breath. 

 

Jim sensed her surprise and tried to distance himself mentally, apologizing.

 

“No, James, of thee I am not frightened.  Do thou never think this,” she implored him, reaching into his thoughts as easily as she would a Sister.  “I myself disliked thy absence.”

 

Ysaulte’s words sang in Jim’s mind, full of startled laughter, as if she had only just discovered how much truth was in them.

 

“They did this for you, your… Sisters?”  His hands went to her shoulders, holding her so firmly she caught an immediate appreciation of just how worried he had been.

 

“Forgive me, James, for distressing you.  Yes, my Sisters healed me.  Please.  I most humbly beg your forgiveness.”  Ysaulte rested her palms against the warmth of his face, drowning herself in the intoxication of his thoughts.

 

“Of course, Ysaulte.  Are you really all right?”  Hearing the wish in her mind, Jim lifted her to a sitting position.  “You were so far away.”

 

She smiled, astonished by the brightness of his psionic presence.  Her own acuity of inner vision was heightened by the intensity of the recent healing, making her feel like she was seeing him for the first time.  He was so beautiful, it made her heart ache… and she realized suddenly she would promise him anything just for the privilege of looking at him.

 

“I swear it, my Lord.”

 

Jim held himself motionless as Ysaulte’s arms went around him, her embrace reassuring him to the vitality of the life force within her.  With startled wonder, he felt her draw the last rasp of pain from his body, erasing all evidence of the tension he’d been under since the poisoning on Muuye…  his fear for Spock, Bones, and himself, his waiting for her to awaken, and wondering if she would…  In his next heartbeat, he perceived her soothing acknowledgement of his concern, before that was eased away as well.

 

“How do you do that?”  He asked, carefully returning her embrace.

 

“You need not inquire, James, for you have a like effect on me.”  Ysaulte pulled back just enough to watch his face.  “As thou wish it, I shall teach thee how I may be called, hath thou need…  no matter where I am,” she promised formally.

 

“I would like that,” Jim whispered, awed by the variety of the colors swirling in the ZaworthIan’s eyes.  They stared at each other for a breathless moment, brought abruptly to reality by McCoy’s rather loud ‘harrumph’.

 

“Ysaulte, are you all right?”  The doctor asked with a faint grin, already sure of the answer.  The ambassador’s color was high, but the line of her back was relaxed and calm.  As for Jim, he stood beside her as if he couldn’t bear to move away.

 

“Yes, Healer, I am fine.  My thanks for your care.”  Ysaulte slid from the exam table, one slender hand balancing her with a grip on the captain’s shoulder.  “As I told James,” here she gave Jim such a pleased smile McCoy had to clear his throat to get any air through it. 

 

“I was, how would you say it, in ‘meld’ with my Sisters, the ZaworthIan council.  They convinced me I am truly not ready for the end of this existence.”

 

“Ysaulte, you didn’t really think about__” Jim hesitated, hearing the unadmitted possibility in the edge of her voice as she turned to face him.

 

“Not for long,” Ysaulte confessed gently, one of her hands catching his.

 

“It was too much, wasn’t it.  Counteracting that poison, then confronting…  I’m sorry.”  Beneath Jim’s words, Ysaulte perceived another thought.

 

  “No wonder you needed more help than we could give you.”

 

“Oh, no, James, not more than you couldst give, but more than I could bear to take from you.  It would have weakened you.”  Too late, she tried to stop the automatic honesty of her response, but this Terran held the measure of her intentions, and he was suddenly furious!

 

“You might not have reached your Sisters,” Jim divined, seeing for an instant how very near she had come to losing herself.  “You would have died, when you could have used my strength?”

 

“I could not risk harm to you.  Learn this now!”  Ysaulte felt her own temper start to rise, and took a moment’s glory in her restored range of expression.  “Have I not sworn to your safety before All?  Before Spock?”

 

“Ysaulte,” Jim winced, sensing her considerable irritation.  “Next time, take the risk.  I know you’re not under my command…” 

 

His brief regret gave her sufficient pause to rein in her anger.

 

“That remains to be seen, Captain,” she teased, reminding him silently that the Healer was watching.  She had almost forgotten all about him. 

 

Jim looked at McCoy, so obviously wondering how much of the conversation had been verbal that the doctor had to bite his tongue.

 

Ysaulte, hearing the question as well as the doctor’s perceptions, found herself laughing at them both.  The heavy atmosphere eased slightly, as she had hoped.

 

McCoy noticed her efforts, giving her a second, closer assessment.  There were definite differences in the ZaworthIan’s affect.  Had her Sisters done this for her, merely by their power of thought?  The changes were substantial, even to his eyes.  Not only did she ‘hear’ their thoughts; she caught the emotions behind them and reflected them back.  A defense?  Certainly a simple form of positive reinforcement, and one capable of producing significant behavioral modification.  He was beginning to understand why Ysaulte had mentioned being concerned about ZaworthIa’s ability to co-exist within the Federation.  The effects of her telepathy were amazingly addictive.

 

Ysaulte was shaken by the turn McCoy’s thoughts had taken.  His impressions unraveled into her perception, carrying subtle hints of awe and accusation.

 

“Leonard, do you think ZaworthIa does not share these fears?  We practice caution, lest we overtake a weaker will…  and you Terrans are not less addictive.  Absolutists who believe in magic, unique within the galaxy.”  She stared into the Healer’s eyes, isolating the chief cause of his anxiety…  which was still standing beside her.  “Before Za, I have sworn to your captain’s safety, from myself most of all.” 

 

“I don’t understand,” Bones said.

 

“You think I affect his ability to command,” she pointed out calmly, her head tilted in Jim’s direction.  Kirk’s aggravation was not lost on McCoy, although he leaned against the exam table in apparent unconcern.

 

“I didn’t say that,” McCoy said forcefully.

 

“Terrans never say what they think,” Ysaulte pronounced.  “If you have questions, ask them.”

 

Jim’s lips twitched at the sheer arrogance in her spoken voice.  She was playing to McCoy’s paranoia with expert skill, exposing it just enough for Bones to recognize it himself.  The doctor grinned at Ysaulte.

 

“Never, huh.  Then tell me, how much are you already in his thoughts?”

 

Ysaulte grinned back, appreciating the blunt curiosity.

 

“How much is he in mine, Healer?”  She marked their surprise before continuing.  “Do you see the basis for ZaworthIa’s hesitation to join the Federation?”

 

“All right, Ysaulte.  I can accept that it’s not one-sided.”  McCoy shook his head, wondering if he was letting his personal feelings get in the way of his judgement.  He kept forgetting this woman was not just his patient Ysaulte, or Jim Kirk’s woman of the week.  She was an ambassador to the Federation from an alien world. 

 

“Just how did your people get rid of the Romulans, Ysaulte?”  It occurred to him to wonder.

 

She winced at the open suspicion in the doctor’s tone, wracking her brain for some kind of reassurance.  The warmth of a hand at her shoulder forestalled any attempted explanations.

 

“Bones, that’s not a fair question.  Whatever ZaworthIa had to do to defend itself from the Romulans really doesn’t have any bearing on our present situation.”

 

Ysaulte sighed with relief.  The captain had spoken, the subject was closed…  but more, he believed his own words and did not doubt her.  She refused to consider how much importance she attached to his opinion of her.  That was a question best asked in the privacy of her guarded thoughts, and as long as James Kirk touched her, Ysaulte did not think she could prevent his overhearing.  She contented herself with murmured thanks.

 

“If that’s settled, I need to get up to the bridge,” Jim said with exaggerated patience. 

 

Bones snorted.

 

“Do you really think Ryu Gnaur’s gonna show up, Jim?”  McCoy was glad for a change of subject.

 

“He will,” Ysaulte responded before Jim could.  “The responsibility for what happened to us lies with Marlak.  He himself admitted this, and I must share that responsibility.  It was not my intent to embroil you and yours, yet here we are.”

 

“Forget it, Ysaulte.  It’s our business, too.  Romulan spies, treachery, dissident worlds.”  Jim rolled his eyes.  “All in a day’s work.”

 

Ysaulte smiled faintly, charmed by his whimsical resignation.

 

“I think Ryu Gnaur did not voluntarily involve himself, Captain,” she offered apologetically.

 

“Marlak coerced him somehow,” Jim agreed, pleased to note her subtle relaxation.  The longer he was around her, the plainer her emotions came to him…  and he was coming to value that subliminal connection.  As a man who enjoyed women, he found the opportunity to see into her heart irresistible, although he didn’t pretend to understand it, or her.  That would be arrogant!  With a start, he realized she was answering his question. 

 

“I think that is likely, if not for himself, then for the Empire.”

 

“Are you wanted by the Empire, Ysaulte?”  McCoy wondered, noticing Jim’s distraction with his own sigh.

 

“Even as you, there is a price on my head.”

 

Jim took Ysaulte’s elbow, leaning forward with a conspiratory air.

 

“Who’s worth more, you or us?”

 

“James!”

 

Ysaulte’s tone scolded, but Jim could hear her restored laughter.  He grinned and steered her towards McCoy.

 

“Is the ambassador released from Sickbay, Doctor?”

 

“She doesn’t need me to tell her that, Captain.”

 

“Leonard, of course, I do.  This is your Sickbay.  Your call to make.”  Ysaulte informed him with smooth courtesy.

 

“Obviously, ZaworthIan healing is very effective.  You’re released,” Bones answered, somehow bothered even more.

 

Ysaulte nodded and allowed the captain to walk her past McCoy.

 

“I’ll see you to your quarters.  I know you’re tired,” Jim told her as they gained the corridor.

 

“Yes, and I am too clearly seen by thee,” Ysaulte replied shortly, silently, her nerves still stinging with McCoy’s suspicion.

 

“You didn’t answer my question,” Jim reminded her.  “Who is worth more to the Romulans?”

 

“In actual fact, Commander Spock and I are worth almost equal reimbursement, then you, then Leonard.”  A surge of temper caught her, but she dismissed it impatiently.  It would be silly of her to blame the Healer for his Terran superstitions…

 

“I heard that.  Wanna cash Bones in?”  Jim teased her with a smile, tempting her out of her dark mood.

 

“Indeed,” Ysaulte laughed.  “I shall wait a while to increase his value, perhaps.  What say you, a’shas?”

 

“Forgive my friend, please… and what does ‘a’shas’ mean?”  For once, the term hadn’t automatically translated in his mind.

 

“As you wish it, of course I will, although I weary of justifying my actions, James.  It is not something to which I am accustomed.”  Ysaulte hesitated while Jim instructed the turbolift.  “The word, a’shas…  it is an old word, an endearment from a ritual that has its roots in our antiquity.

 

‘Vas m’r saias W’ey, kha’el shas du’lan’h.”

 

While Jim’s ears heard the spoken, lyrical language, she translated the words for his inner hearing.

 

“Set into eternal truth, thou belongeth in my soul’s center,” he repeated aloud.  “It’s beautiful, Ysaulte.  From a ritual?”

 

“Yes.”  Ysaulte put out one hand, and Jim took it in his without thinking.  “It has only rare applications in our time, but the term ‘a’shas’ or ‘my soul’, remains.”

 

“What's the ritual for, Ysaulte?”

 

“You are more nosy than a Vulcan, James,” she protested to his silent laughter.

 

“Never mind.  We never got lunch, or breakfast, for that matter.  Are you hungry?”  Jim wondered as they passed the officers’ lounge.

 

Ysaulte shuddered, shaking her head.

 

“Maybe tomorrow.”

 

“No, no, that’s too long to wait.  How about having dinner with me, later?”  He invited impulsively as they arrived at her quarters.  She nodded with a yawn, and Jim patted her cheek with exaggerated solicitude.

 

“Get some sleep.  That’s an order,” he teased, watching her irises go green with amusement.

 

“Yes, Sir, Captain.”  Ysaulte stepped into her quarters, chuckling.  The door hissed shut, closing James away…  yet he was with her.  She was too tired to decipher the implications in that, and she had her orders!

 

***

 

“We’re being hailed, Captain.”  Lieutenant Palmer announced.

 

“Open channel, Lieutenant.”

 

Ryu Gnaur’s image appeared on the viewscreen.

 

“Captain Kirk.”

 

“Your Excellency,” Jim responded politely, waiting for the Etumuuyea to explain himself.  A brief silence ensued, during which the Negus rubbed his chin, while Jim settled himself more comfortably in his chair.

 

“Permission to come aboard.”  Gnaur finally said, in the tone of a chess player conceding to checkmate.  From the corner of his eye, Jim could see Spock’s eyebrow lifting.

 

“Of course, Your Excellency.  Please stand by.  Mister Spock, do you have the Negus’s coordinates?”

 

Ryu Gnaur covered his smile with one hand.  He’d known himself under surveillance, and under the gun, so to speak…  but he hadn’t thought the starship captain would admit it so openly.  This James Kirk was as bold as his reputation.

 

“Affirmative, Captain.”

 

“Give them to the transporter room, please.  Your Excellency, stand by to beam up.”

 

“Standing by.”

 

The screen went dark, then back to depicting the planet the Enterprise was orbiting.  Jim got to his feet.

 

“Spock, you have the conn.  I’ll meet the Negus, then take him to the observation deck for our little discussion.”  Jim had originally thought to take the Etumuuyea to Main Briefing, but Ysaulte’s preoccupation with the view gave him an idea for a more instructive alternative.

 

Seven different arguments why Jim shouldn’t meet the Negus alone ran through Spock’s mind, but none of them were based in logic.

 

“Understood, Captain.”

 

Jim nodded his reassurance, well aware of his first officer’s unvoiced reservations.  Being so in-tune with the ZaworthIan had made him more sensitive to everything else he could ‘hear’ around him, Jim believed…  although he’d never had any problems reading Spock’s subtle hesitations. 

 

As Jim left the bridge, Spock took the center seat, and the stewardship of the Enterprise was secure…

 

***

 

Ryu Gnaur, Negus ul Etumuuyea, materialized on the platform, swept from the surface of his world by the captain’s own hand.  He was dressed in the same featureless blue robe he’d been wearing when he’d welcome Jim and the landing party to his table, and Jim had to consciously unclench his jaw.

 

“Welcome on board the starship Enterprise, Your Excellency.”

 

“Thank you, Captain.”  Gnaur recognized the Terran’s controlled anger, and wondered how much longer this polite fiction of a routine state visit would continue.  He didn’t know what would be worse, to simply apologize for bad judgement, or confess to being manipulated by the Rihannsu…  and he wasn’t too sure the Terran would be appeased by a mere apology.

 

Nothing further was spoken until Jim escorted the Negus into an observation lounge.  Unlike the one Ysaulte favored, this one overlooked Muuye, with the lights of Aruun beginning to appear in the dusk.

 

“I thought you might like to see what we see when we look at your world,” Jim offered, motioning Gnaur toward the clearsteel panel.  The Negus, in a universally humanoid reaction, reached out to touch the chill of space and watched his planet glowing in reflected starshine.

 

“Beautiful… and vulnerable.”

 

“You have nothing to fear from the Federation, or Star Fleet,” Jim assured him evenly.

 

“Their loss, perhaps,” Gnaur replied, surprising Jim.

 

“I don’t understand, Your Excellency,” the captain said, and Ryu Gnaur caught a sense of just how strong this Terran man was.  Rare was the person who could exhibit such flexibility… whether he was being deliberately obtuse or fishing for more information was unimportant.

 

“Obviously, you are acquainted with Senator tr’Ahkennsai.”  The Etumuuyea remarked almost idly, and Jim bit his tongue on an involuntary exclamation.

 

“Haven’t you wondered how our system has escaped the Rihannsu presence?”  Ryu Gnaur went on talking, although he had noticed the Terran’s startled reaction.

 

“As a matter of fact, I have… and apparently, you haven’t completely escaped it,” Jim answered slowly.

 

“Quite correct.”  The Negus turned his back on Muuye and seated himself, stretching his long legs with a groan.  “It has been a long day.  If you will permit me, I would like to teach a little galactic history, and answer some of your questions, Captain.”

 

Jim considered the offer, his interest drawn by Ryu Gnaur’s unlikely relaxation.  This interview wasn’t going at all like he’d expected, but then, what had he expected?  Each new turn of circumstance was more bizarre than the last, and he was beginning to believe everything was somehow related.

 

“I am willing to listen, Your Excellency,” he agreed, taking a chair that placed his back to the door.  Ryu Gnaur respected the gesture.  The Terran captain made a declaration of confidence…  this was his ship.

 

“Ah, yes.”  The Negus steepled his fingers, making his long face look mournfully contemplative.  “The Etumuuyea system has enjoyed relative autonomy for several hundred years, tolerated by the Rihannsu as a…  listening post, if you will.  Never precisely an alliance, just an easy place to keep an eye on the Federation.  In this way, the Empire profits from our membership far more than we, but at the same time, it limits their interference.   They have not attempted an outright military takeover within remembered generations…  not since the ZaworthIan Circle intervened.”

 

“ZaworthIa!”  This time, Jim could not keep his surprise quiet.

 

Gnaur nodded, shifting his position until he was able to watch both the starship captain, and the stars.

 

“I do not believe the Federation has ever appreciated how… complex… things can be for those worlds nearest the Empire’s borders.  Those peoples who exist here would be better served were they still unified among themselves, for life and death lie on the turn of a stellar wind.”

 

“Still?”

 

“There was a time before the Federation, Captain…  and there was a time before the Empire.  It is Terran arrogance to think that unless you were involved it is of no consequence.”  The implication was clear.  Could Jim listen open minded?

 

“Please.  Go on, Your Excellency.”

 

“Ah, Captain.  So courteous.”  Jim wasn’t sure if he was being mocked or not.  After a second’s steely-eyed gaze, the Negus continued.

 

“In those days before the stars were named Sector Z after Standard fashion, this section of the galaxy was known as Sarng’n am Segulah, containing a loosely knit league of planets that primarily avoided interfering with each other.  Among them, Etumuuyea, the eight worlds of the Halil, which were your Earth outposts, half of which are now destroyed… and ZaworthIa.  When we were first invaded by those who came to be known as Romulans, the Halil were the first to die, they and their worlds…”  Ryu Gnaur cleared his throat, bothered by the retelling of this ancient sadness.  He could remember hearing this story from his great grandfather when the Federation had been so bold as to utilize those haunted worlds.  The old man had been livid when he’d heard them called ‘Earth Outposts’.  Upstart Terrans…  divine justice when the Rihannsu had destroyed their bases.  They were less than asteroids, now.

 

“Ah.  Forgive me, Captain.  The mind wanders.  The Rihannsu next turned on Etumuuyea.  They were in search of their Empire, you see.  What is it the Klin say?  Komerex tel khesterex?”

 

“The Empire grows, or it dies,” Jim murmured, shaken.

 

“Ah.  Precisely.  We of Etumuuyea sent word to the ZaworthIan Circle...  what you Terrans would call a ‘last resort’, for we were losing the conflict and on the verge of losing our worlds, as the Halil had.  ZaworthIa shielded herself, then moved to defend us.  Spies were sent among the Rihannsu, something ZaworthIa still practices.  Certain of those in power were… persuaded… into claiming a more distant prize; ch’Rihan and ch’Havran, or, Romulus and Remus, as you know them.  Open war was avoided within the Etumuuyea system, but it was a bloody violent time, make no mistake.  It took three hundred Standard years to discourage the Rihannsu occupation, Captain, but it was done, at the cost of a good many lives, Etumuuyea and ZaworthIan.”  The Negus sighed and waved vaguely in his homeworld’s direction.

 

“My ancestors, in their superstitious wisdom, cast out the ZaworthIans as well.  There was, at the time, great fear of them.  They were seen as sorcerers and spell-weavers…  and they are still the price of our freedom.”

 

“And the ZaworthIans left?”  Jim asked faintly, his mind boggling over the various aspects of Ryu Gnaur’s tale.  All he had to do was close his eyes to see again Commander Hanson, standing in the flaming ruins of Earth Outpost Four.  To realize that barren rock had been a living planet, an entire population dead…

 

“Ah, yes.  The ZaworthIans left.”  The Negus kept his voice low, respecting the traces of horror in the Terran’s eyes.  “ZaworthIa has since secluded herself.  To my knowledge, no ZaworthIan has set foot upon Muuye until the Lady d’Aeviane did earlier today.”

 

Ryu Gnaur sighed again.

 

“We have an agreement with the Empire which predates our entry into the Federation…  one which would be unhealthy for us to break.  ZaworthIans are to be turned over to the Empire, without exception.”

 

“The Federation would protect__”

 

“My dear Captain, the Federation is parsecs away.  When your starship leaves, we will still be here, and so will the Rihannsu.”  Gnaur rubbed his chin in a gesture that was becoming familiar. 

 

“And if ZaworthIa joins the Federation?”  Jim challenged, his own chin lifting.  “It is what the ambassador came to your world to discuss with you.”

 

The Negus got to his feet.  It was time to deliver his message and go home.

 

“It is the judgement of the Etumuuyea, the combined worlds of Muuye, Aryetu, and Tuarye.  We will not remain within the Federation if it is to include ZaworthIa.  I, Ryu Gnaur, Negus ul Etumuuyea have spoken.”  The Negus inclined his head.  “The Rihannsu will turn my worlds into asteroids if I take any other position, Captain.  Do you understand?”

 

Jim stood.  He was still rather disconcerted.

 

“Your position will be communicated to the Federation Council, Your Excellency.”  He looked steadily at the lanky Muuyea.  “What would it take to change your mind?”

 

“Ah.  A battalion of starships, perhaps?”  Ryu Gnaur shrugged.

 

Jim moved to the wall-comm.

 

“Security.”

 

“Johnson here, Sir.”

 

“Report to the observation deck, room twelve.”  He thumbed off the comm.  “The officer will escort you to the transporter room, Your Excellency.”

 

“Ah.  Thank you, Captain.”  The Etumuuyea turned back toward the clearsteel panel, watching his world.  “I am sorry you and your men were caught in the middle.  I did tell Agnius to choose his potions with care.  No harm done, at any rate.”

 

Fortunately, Jim’s reaction to that was covered by the arrival of the security team.  He was not surprised when Spock followed them in, in record time. 

 

“Lieutenant, show His Excellency the Negus to the transporter room and see that he’s beamed down safely.”

 

“Yes, Sir.”

 

“Ah.  No doubt we will have further dealings, Captain.  Until then.”  The Negus held out his hands and clapped, leaving without waiting for an acknowledgement.  The security team trailed after him.

 

“Spock.”  Jim rubbed one hand over his eyes.  “Ryu Gnaur says Etumuuyea will secede from the Federation…  if ZaworthIa joins.”

 

“Interesting.  So this is the basis for their system’s unrest.  What prompted the attack on us?”

 

And how to answer that question?  Jim regarded his friend, knowing full well he would be fanning anew the fires of Spock’s suspicions with an honest reply; also knowing there was no help for it.

 

“It wasn’t aimed at us.  It was aimed at Ysaulte.”  He watched Spock’s face turn to Vulcan stone.  “The Etumuuyea have a standing arrangement with the Empire.  All ZaworthIans in their system are to be turned over to the Empire.”

 

Taking a breath, Jim told Spock all the rest of it, starting with him for the turbo lift.

 

“I don’t get it, Spock.  How did one little planet we’ve never heard of suddenly become such a pivotal issue?”

 

Recognizing a rhetorical question (at last), Spock held silent.  He had questions of his own…

 

***

 

Marlak was waiting for Ryu Gnaur when he materialized.  The Negus glared at him, half-angry and half-afraid.

 

“He was warned, as you instructed, Senator tr’Ahkennsai.”

 

“Excellent.  Is he suspicious of his ZaworthIan witch?”  Marlak inquired with a slanted smile.

 

“I doubt it.  He is difficult to read…  but I think her influence is very strong.  Why did you let her go?”

 

The Rihannsu stared at him, one ebony eyebrow on the rise.

 

“Surely, you aren’t asking me to explain myself, Muuyean.”

 

Despite his office, despite a lineage in a House as old as the ul Nru ranges, despite his own considerable pride, the Negus paled at Marlak’s tone.

 

“Ah.  Forgive me, Senator.  I was merely curious.”

 

“I see.  Then I shall tell you.  The simplest way for the Feds to learn how…  unsuitable… the ZaworthIans are is to leave her with him.  Their Enterprise is said to be the best of the best, eh?  If they cannot resist her witchery then how can the remainder be expected to do so?  There is a Terran saying.  ‘Give them enough rope and they’ll hang themselves’.  How long do you think the Vulcan will allow her mind control?”

 

“Ah.  But they do not see themselves as controlled,” Ryu Gnaur dared to point out.

 

“Patience, Muuyean.  Rome wasn’t built in a day!”  Marlak laughed at the Terran proverb.  Rome, indeed!

 

***

 

“Acknowledged.  Kirk out.”  Jim looked over his desk at Spock and Bones.  “You heard him, gentlemen.  The Federation has placed the highest priority on persuading the ZaworthIans to accept our offer of membership.  It has been labeled vitally important to our security interests; so important it was supposed to be top secret.  Did you get the impression this is just the kind of situation they were trying to avoid?”

 

“Yeah, I did,” McCoy drawled.  “You think they knew this would happen?”

 

“That question lacks clarity, Doctor, as well as being immaterial,” Spock remarked.

 

“Is it?  I don’t think so.  I’m startin’ to think nothin’ that’s happened in the last week has been immaterial, includin’ Ysaulte’s involvement. You can’t say that’s a coincidence, Spock.”

 

“There is no coincidence in her presence.  Certainly, the ZaworthIan people have a major interest in this situation.  It is more probably coincidental that the ambassador became involved with us.”

 

“Is it?  And the circumstances?”  McCoy demanded stubbornly.

 

“What the hell are you saying, Bones?”

 

Spock tuned out the debate, ignoring Jim’s sudden anger.  There was something in McCoy’s suspicion that startled him with its leap past logic.  He could sense some dark intention, a pattern, a carefully arranged sequence of events…  the ZaworthIan, injured while the Enterprise was in orbit, rendered vulnerable and helpless.  Had she been deliberately weakened by the Romulan is such a way that she would have no option but to require their assistance?  Cold-bloodedly engineered into a dependence on them, for reasons of the Romulan’s own?  Had the Romulan even foreseen the attraction Ysaulte’s unshielded psionic resonance would have for the captain of the starship Enterprise, whose friendship with his Vulcan first officer was of galactic renown?  Spock could not dismiss the accuracy of his intuition.

 

“It just seems there’s a lot she ain’t sayin’, Jim,” McCoy was adding, his tone hardly conciliatory.

 

“I know that, damn it.  I haven’t wanted to press her.  Your instructions, Doctor,” Jim reminded him softly, willing to back down first.

 

Bones huffed out a disgusted laugh.

 

“I don’t know that she’s the same Ysaulte any more.”

 

“What is it about her being… healed… that upsets you so much?”  Jim wondered with no little exasperation.  “We’ve seen empathic healing before that seemed like nothing short of a miracle.  Are you so surprised to find out it can be used for psychological healing, too?”

 

McCoy’s eyebrows lifted and his eyes narrowed, the expression plainly acknowledging an unwelcome truth.

 

“I guess I am surprised, and bothered, by the idea that the ZaworthIans can rework a mind into forgetting emotional scars, like instant psychotherapy, or brainwashing.”

 

“Is it that, or the fact they sent her back so much stronger, and so much in control?”  Jim turned to Spock.  “You haven’t seen her, but while she seemed unconscious to us, she was in a mind-link with her Sisters of the Council, her government.  She hasn’t told me everything, and I don’t know if I’d understand it all anyway, but she came very close to… not coming back.  Her Sisters healed her, she told me… and she is different, but…”  Jim shrugged, not able to expand on that.

 

“Yeah, she’s different.  More intense, if anything.  Damn it, Jim, she’s out to get that Romulan, the one who attacked her.  What happens next time we get caught in her way?”

 

“We were ‘caught in her way’, Doctor,” Spock put in unexpectedly before Jim’s temper could erupt.  “The very fact that we are here points to her mastery of restraint.”

 

“If there is a next time, we have a responsibility to help her ‘get’ that Romulan.  According to the Negus, he’s Senator Marlak tr’Ahkennsai.”

 

“As in ‘Imperial Senate’ Senator?” 

 

  Jim nodded, and Bones groaned audibly.

 

“Didn’t she say he’s related to her?  Her cousin?”

 

“That’s right, and something else you missed.  When we were in Ryu Gnaur’s dungeon and Ysaulte called the Romulan by the family name tr’Arriellus…  there is a line in the Empire by that name.”  Jim prodded.

 

Thinking back on the latest series of information tapes smuggled out of the Neutral Zone, McCoy groaned again. 

 

“Not the same family as Fleet Commander t’Motei tr’Arriellus?”

 

“Could be.”  Jim couldn’t resist adding one more item regarding Romulan society.  “The Fleet Commander’s wife is the Praetor’s sister.”

 

“And these are the Romulans Ysaulte is related to.”  McCoy gave Jim a sideways look.  “I’m going to Sickbay.  You can let me know what you decide to do next.”

 

Jim stared at the doctor’s back as Bones abruptly left his quarters.

 

“Doctor McCoy appears quite unsettled, Captain,” Spock remarked idly, with the intention of provoking Jim into elucidating his reactions.

 

“And I don’t know why.  He’s not xenophobic… surely he’s not…”  Jim caught himself in mid-sentence, not certain which words to use.  Afraid of Ysaulte?  Worried about himself, Jim?  Jealous?  Protective?  He couldn’t tell what state of mind Bones was in.  He didn’t even want to acknowledge his own.

 

Memory shook him, and he saw himself in a grimy room, the air heavy with the smell of burning circuits.  A moment out of time, admitting to Spock his feelings for another woman…  another loss…  Jim couldn’t bear to confess how much the ZaworthIan moved him, how fascinating he found the touch of her mind and the grace of her spirit.  If those were her only attractions, Jim thought he’d still be charmed.  Combined with her strength of will and her physical beauty, she was almost impossible to resist…  but Jim wasn’t blind to the implications behind that, either.  Women had tried before to distract him, and that was not Ysaulte’s motivation.  He refused to believe she was playing him false…

 

“Jim,” Spock began quietly, watching the ghosts fading in his friend’s eyes.  “Has the ambassador been brainwashed?”

 

It was not a question Jim had anticipated from his logical Vulcan.

 

“Et Tu, Brute?”  Jim wondered wryly.  “Ysaulte has mentioned how weary she is of justifying her actions.  I could say the same.”

 

“I believe you have misunderstood me, Jim,” Spock replied in mild, measured tones.  “I ask merely because you are familiar with the ambassador’s mindset.  If it was, as the doctor fears, altered by her kinswomen, it would be apparent to you.”

 

Well.  There was the gauntlet, well and truly thrown.  Jim could come clean, disclose how intimately he did in fact know Ysaulte’s thoughts…  which was evidently no secret to Spock, although Jim could hear the question in his friend’s even statement.  It was the same query Bones had tossed at Ysaulte in Sickbay earlier…  the one she had answered with the same question.  How deeply were they in each other’s minds?

 

“Really, James, how is one to sleep?”  Ysaulte’s voice came, unexpected but not unwelcome.  Jim had a sense of some aloofness on her part, and wondered how it would feel to have her presence wholly in his mind, unrestricted.  Her surprise at his curiosity echoed into his perception, and Jim started to laugh.  There was no way she could be concealing any kind of dark motives. 

 

“Mister Spock, the Lady has sworn her loyalty to me.  That hasn’t changed,” Jim said bluntly, lost in the rush of Ysaulte’s waking consciousness.

 

“As you say, Sir.”  Spock tilted his head, noticing the odd distraction in Jim’s gaze.  Careful ‘listening’ brought whispers of another voice.

 

“Do you hear her all the time?”

 

“No,” Jim said.  “Only when she ‘speaks’ to me, and only if I want her.”

 

The double entendre was not lost on the Vulcan, who sighed to himself in resigned comprehension.  The situation had changed with the ZaworthIan’s healing.

 

Ysaulte was aware of the undertones in the conversation, without quite comprehending their meaning.  She had not fully awakened until James had begun to laugh, and she was still feeling slightly disoriented from sleep.

 

“James?  Is there a problem?”

 

“Not at all, my Lady,” he reassured her, caught briefly in the not-yet-steady focus of her will.  "Everything is fine.  I do need to talk to you."

 

“Of course.”

 

“Spock is here.  It would save time if you could talk to us both.”

 

“As thou wish it, James, so shall it be.  In body or in spirit?  I warn you, if you wish it in body you shall await my convenience.”  She shot him a mental picture of her appearance as she inspected it in the mirror, disheveled from sleep.  “I need a shower and a change of clothes before appearing in public, methinks.”

 

“Ysaulte.”  Jim fought the urge to tell her she didn’t have to take the time; struck by the image she’d presented.  Eyes heavy with sleep, skin flushed, hair loose to her waist…  “We’ll wait,” he said instead, missing her instantly when she diverted her attention from his mind. 

 

He opened his eyes and wondered when he’d closed them, finding Spock watching him with slanted brow.

 

“Stay a while.”

 

“The ambassador is coming?”  Spock’s interest stirred anew.

 

“You can ask her all those questions you have, Spock.  She’s strong enough to take it, now.”

 

“Jim, I regret the distress I caused her earlier.  Would you prefer I left?”  Spock made the offer reluctantly.

 

“I want you to stay.”  Jim rubbed the back of his neck, easing muscles cramped from tension.  “I want you to know her better.  It would make it a lot less adversarial around here.”

 

“That was never my intention, Jim, nor Doctor McCoy’s.”

 

“But that’s how she perceives it, Spock,” Jim admitted.  “She needs to know she doesn’t have to be afraid of you.”

 

Spock’s shoulders stiffened imperceptibly.

 

“I had not realized that was still the case, Captain.”

 

Jim got up and fetched the brandy, pouring them each a small measure.  He got an extra glass out for Ysaulte, then sat back down.

 

“Because she saved your life?”  He asked casually, lifting his tumbler towards Spock then sipping his drink.  The warmth of the liqueur settled comfortably in the pit of his stomach, soothing him with its familiarity.

 

Spock took a taste of his own brandy, his lips tilted at Jim’s obvious caution.  Interesting, the way Terrans had to reinstruct their bodies as well as their minds…  another fault to be found in living by one’s nerve endings, he supposed, ignoring the subtle relaxation of his own muscles.

 

“She saved your life because…”  Jim hesitated, thinking that what he was about to say sounded remarkably vain.  “She did it for me.”

 

“I see.”

 

“Do you?”

 

Spock grinned his elusive grin, amused by his friend’s ironic question.  It came to him that he couldn’t blame the ZaworthIan ambassador for her fascination with Jim’s mind.

 

”I will try, Jim,” he promised, half in awe of Ysaulte’s knowledge of their loyal devotion.  The ZaworthIan had so quickly seen into the intensity of Jim’s heart…  and she had acted, always, out of consideration of that vision.  Spock was finding her powerful telepathy disquieting, and confessed as much to Jim.

 

“I keep thinking I ought to be afraid of her, Spock.  I remember the way Gary was, and I don’t know how strong Ysaulte really is.  She sees things in me that I don’t see, voices thoughts I didn’t know I had, but she doesn’t frighten me, Spock.”  That means something, his tone said, but Spock wasn’t so certain.  Jim hadn’t wanted to be afraid of Gary Mitchell, either.

 

“But I was afraid of him, Spock.”  Jim said in a low murmur, answering the Vulcan’s reflected thought.  “You could practically feel the… evil… in him, taking over.  I would feel it, if Ysaulte was like that.”

 

“I will be gratified to discover the extent of the ambassador’s abilities in the psionic arts.”  Spock replied after a moment’s startled silence.  “She has obviously increased your sensitivity to the unspoken word.”

 

“Maybe she has,” Jim agreed, having noticed the same thing, earlier.  “Would that be so bad?”

 

Spock finished his brandy, considering the question.

 

“It would be different,” he said at length.  “I have insufficient data to decide possible benefits or hazards.”

 

Jim stood and moved towards the door before the buzzer announced company.

 

“Enter.”  He called, feeling Spock rising behind him.

 

Ysaulte stepped in, dressed in a silky emerald green shift, her hair bound in its customary plait.  She kept her hands clasped behind her.  It was an attempt to convey calm, Jim thought, as he moved to greet her.

 

“Ambassador.  Good evening.”

 

She looked them over, deciding that James saw through her serene pose.  The Vulcan…  who knew what he thought?  His appearance still managed to strike some subliminal chord, in spite of her Sisters’ intervention.  Her very memory had not been removed, after all, and her body had learned a harsh lesson.

 

“At Rihannsu hands, Ysaulte.  Not Vulcan,” Jim reminded silently, without accusation.

 

“Captain.  Thank you.  Good evening, Mister Spock.”  Ysaulte bowed her head politely, happy to lean on James’s assurance, although she kept her physical distance.

 

“Ambassador.”  The Vulcan’s voice was very different from Marlak’s, she realized for the first time, praising the All for small mercies.

 

“The Negus did come,” she concluded, studying their faces curiously.

 

“Just as you expected.  We have questions,” Jim said.

 

Ysaulte smiled at him, and Jim felt his throat closing as her eyes mirrored the pure green of her clothing.

 

“Of this, I have no doubt.  They will be easier told if I might see the truth of it, James, from your own memory.”  She extended one palm.  “Tell it to me as it happened.  I shall reflect it for Mister Spock, so he will not suspect a private agenda.”  Ysaulte made the offer matter-of-factly, but Spock’s eyebrow twitched at the delicate sarcasm lacing her words.

 

“That’s up to you, Science Officer,” Jim said with a faint grin.

 

Ysaulte’s lips quirked at the challenge implicit in the captain’s response, but she buried her amusement to give one more resigned promise.

 

“I shall involve you only to the extent that you wish, Commander.”

 

“Thank you, Ambassador,” Spock replied, comprehending the source of her long-suffering tone.  “I would not presume to ask you to ‘justify your actions’, however.”

 

“Sah’des ka!”  Ysaulte acknowledged delightedly, recognizing her own words quoted back to her.  “I see how it is.  I suppose he does that all the time, James?”

 

“Indeed, he does, my Lady,” Jim chuckled, showing her to the chair McCoy had recently vacated.  “Mister Spock also plays chess at the grandmasters’ level.”

 

“I am warned,” Ysaulte said softly, catching traces of the Healer’s aggravation as she settled herself.  Leonard’s emotional echoes were not the only ones she could feel, either…  Subconsciously expanding her perceptions, Ysaulte sampled the atmosphere that was apparent to her, finding another reality behind the spare elegance of the captain’s cabin.  There was so much of Jim here, yes, but…

 

Jim watched Ysaulte’s eyes widen, her startled wonder hastily suppressed.  She favored him with her own raised eyebrow, smiling faintly.

 

“What is it?”  He inquired, wishing she would share her impressions.

 

“If you wish me to tell you, I shall, but I do not think you will enjoy mine own appreciation,” Ysaulte’s thoughts came to him instantly, giving him that mysterious, electric rush of warmth, still overlaid with her bemused surprise.

 

“Tell me anyway,” Jim commanded, sensing within her more private reactions a hinted, aching regret.

 

“James.”  Ysaulte did not know if she could bear to let him see so far into her heart, and she had not completely forgotten the Vulcan in his speechless vigilance, but the captain demanded an answer.  “I ‘hear’ voices in this room, from the past ago, and sense strong emotions…  I see these things the way you see material things.”

 

Her gaze inevitably fixed on the pristine neatness of Jim’s bunk.

 

Jim winced, cursing himself for not considering her discerning sensitivity.  Who knew better than he what history whispered from these walls?

 

“I’m sorry, Ysaulte.  It was thoughtless__”

 

“No, James.  This was not ill-advised, not at all.”  Her reassurance sang along his nerves.  “I see in these… remnants of memory… that there is possibility for…”  Jim could feel Ysaulte searching for the strength of admission, torn by her honesty and her need for self-protection; driven to discover this truth and believe again…

 

“Tell me, Ysaulte.”

 

“What he did to me.”  Her eyes locked on his, restless storms in unimagined colors.  “That is not how it is, is it.” 

 

Pain seeped free of her careful control, and she started to draw on her shielding, but Jim was quick to take her hand before she could retreat completely.

 

“Rape is an act of anger, Ysaulte, a criminal assault intended to hurt the victim on as many levels as possible…  and no, it has nothing, nothing to do with the act of love,” Jim promised steadily, burying the little voice in his mind that told him he could teach her the difference.

 

Ysaulte stopped trying to close her mind, allowing his certainty to ease her lingering doubts.  She set aside her own reaction.  In due time she would examine it, but for now…  His fingers were cool against her wrist.  She could feel her life pulsing under his touch in the rhythms of her homeworld.  His faith shone like a beacon, ever constant, and the past was the past.

 

“I could not hope for plainer example, James.  Thank you.”   Ysaulte freed her hand gently.  “Now, please, tell me what happened with the Negus?”

 

Jim recognized the indirect wariness in Ysaulte’s gesture, although he wasn’t so sure that she did.  Nodding, he began to recall recent events;  Ryu Gnaur’s visit, Star Fleet’s response…  Ysaulte absorbed his recollection at the speed of thought and effortlessly reflected it for the Vulcan, prompting Jim to comment on the efficiency in this manner of briefing.

 

Spock was of the opinion that the doctor had underestimated the alteration in the ZaworthIan’s affect.  There was a new range of ability in her attitude, daring him to witness her skill and participate if he was able…  and at the same time, just as clearly dismissing his presence along with any impact he might make.  In self-protection?

 

Ysaulte had fixed on one point in James’s recital, appalled.

 

“Forgive me, but this was ordered, tell Etumuuyea the choice is theirs?  Does the Federation desert them so easily?”

 

“Membership within the Federation is not involuntary.  Any world that wants to withdraw has that prerogative, besides which, the Federation can’t allow itself to be coerced into policy changes on the threats of a single system.”  Jim was quick to explain.  “The Prime Directive__”

 

“Paugh!  The Prime Directive!  James, thou art naïve.  This owes not to diplomatic doublespeak!  Do you not see how the hands of the military are so quick to drop the bow to pick up the gun?  Why do you think our membership is so eagerly desired?”  Ysaulte pecked at the desk with one impatient fingertip.  “I will tell this for all ZaworthIa, Captain.  This can only appear to us as expediency.  You will be throwing Etumuuyea into Rihannsu teeth.  ZaworthIa will not approve.”

 

“And if the only way to save them is to decline Federation membership?  ZaworthIa has saved the Etumuuyea once before, according to Ryu Gnaur,” Jim retorted, stung by Ysaulte’s characterizing him as naïve.

 

“I have no knowledge of that.”

 

“Are you saying he lied?”  Jim thought he would find that hard to believe, having heard it first hand and judged the Muuyean’s sincerity.

 

“He believes it, that much is clear,” Ysaulte hesitated. “Please understand me.  Before coming to the ambassadorship, I was…  I served for a brief time as…  I spent a year as a spy within the Empire.  I know ZaworthIa was once at war with the Empire, and I know the Etumuuyea system was involved, but there are details I do not know.  It is not felt prudent to send forth an agent who is fully conversant with what might betray a weakness…”

 

“Because it might get tortured out of them.  I do understand.”  Jim stared at Ysaulte, trying to reconcile her appearance with his image of a secret agent.  She seemed far too fragile to survive among Romulans, still bearing the faint echo of bruises too slow to fade.

 

“Your eyes.”

 

All color vanished from Ysaulte’s irises, which washed over impenetrable black.  She lifted her chin and looked down her elegant nose at him, projecting iron will, and Jim revised his initial impression.  He could see her facing life as a Romulan.

 

“It is well this is apparent, for as much as I am a child of Za, I am Rihannsu.  Know you, my father’s father before him yet serves the Empire.”

 

“Fleet Commander t’Motei tr’Arriellus.”

 

“Huh.  Know thou too much, perhaps,” Ysaulte murmured, catching sight of the patient Vulcan, who still watched them unobtrusively. 

 

“Forgive me, Spock.  I quite forgot your presence, although it is beyond me how that should be true.  This Terran seems to have the capacity to drive all else from my consideration.”

 

“Believe me, I do understand, Ysaulte,” Spock answered with the voice-in-mind, out of respect for her deadly honesty.  She made little effort to shelter herself, allowing his psionic energy to flash through her thoughts with quicksilver delicacy…  and Spock wondered at her courage, for he did not think he could have offered her the same freedom.

 

Ysaulte inclined her head at the silent admission, the cold black in her eyes replaced by emerald humor.

 

“I am not discomfited.  I do see the differences.”  She looked at the captain slyly.  “I am trying.”

 

“So is Spock,” Jim pointed out to be fair.

 

“This is known to me, and I am awed by Vulcan curiosity, James.  It is famed throughout the galaxy, but his is not less than your own.  I can scarce record two minds within this thought.  An effect of long association, I suppose?”

 

“Ysaulte!”  Jim protested her frank recognition of his and Spock’s ties.  She laughed, not in the least cowed by his passing irritation.

 

“He can tolerate it, James,” she decided, still smiling.  “He is a Vulcan.”

 

“Yes, he is,” Jim congratulated Ysaulte softly, appreciating her statement for the progress it represented.  “Well done, my Lady.”

 

“Thank you.”  Ysaulte’s eyes locked onto Jim’s, hers gone blue with the moment’s peace.  “Tell me, what is this?”

 

She tore her gaze off the captain and indicated the brandy snifter waiting untouched on the desk.

 

“Brandy.  An alcoholic beverage distilled from fermented fruit juices and wines,” Spock explained at Jim’s nod, although his attention was hardly on the subject.  He was too busy trying to analyze her easy exposure of their emotions.  The ZaworthIan’s empathic sonar echoed and amplified thought until Spock wasn’t sure where mental reality merged into physical.  She could extend those borders…  how far could she see, given consent to look?

 

“Wish learn?”  Jim teased Ysaulte in her own language, startling Spock further, for she translated it automatically.  It gave a new level of possibility to her range.

 

Ysaulte’s nose wrinkled as she lifted the brandy glass, surprising them with a sudden burst of apprehension that was mingled with self-directed amusement.

 

“Tell me, Mister Spock, did you then fear also, to sip from this cup, with ‘membrance of Ryu Gnaur’s vintage?”  The impudent query couldn’t hide the genuine unease crawling along the ZaworthIan’s spine.

 

Spock arched an eyebrow as he debated his reply, for he believed he heard another question behind her words.

 

“It has been my experience, Ambassador, that one must reinstruct oneself within corporeal limitations in order to avoid creating a learned response to noxious stimuli.”

 

“He means if you fall off a horse you have to get right back on…  It’s almost easier to translate ZaworthIan!”  Jim’s silent laughter was openly affectionate.

 

Ysaulte smiled, then sipped the amber liquid in the glass.  Fluid heat ran over her tongue, whispering of time, and darkness, and mists.  She breathed in the fumes of the spirits, then carefully set down the snifter, finally relaxing her abdominal muscles when the brandy colored a warm path to her stomach.

 

“I am still conscious, at least,” she murmured, relieved.  Jim began to laugh out loud, and even the Vulcan’s dark eyes shone.

 

Jim let humor cover the ache in his gut caused by her sensual appreciation for the brandy.  He didn’t think he’d ever drink it again without hearing whispers…

 

“Indeed.”  He almost thought he heard Spock agree.

 

Ysaulte was caught by restlessness, admitting her own need to get away and prodded by some instinct akin to self-preservation.  They were too close; Jim was too close.  Did Spock even realize how much of her mind the Terran revealed in his turn?  Perhaps he thought it all due her own Talent…  and what of this starship captain?  How was she so clearly seen by the one?

 

She set meticulous screens around these private musings, reshielding all but the most superficial levels…  reshielded from Spock’s direct scrutiny, but from Jim?  She doubted it.  Truly, the one had eyes with which to see past all barriers.  Ysaulte had initially credited the skill as derived from Vulcan influence, but she’d been wrong.  Spock’s shields were impeccable, yet she perceived Jim saw through them as well.

 

“Are you all right, Ysaulte?”  Jim could literally feel her distancing herself.

 

“Of course.  The next logical question is, why was I on Cilehe?”

 

Ysaulte deflected his curiosity onto a more neutral topic.  Healed or not, she wasn’t quite ready to suffer more emotional explorations.

 

Jim nodded, willing to give her some room.

 

“Never let it be said that we behaved illogically,” he said with a sideways grin at his first officer.

 

“Never,” Spock intoned gravely, although he, too, was aware of the pretended calm suddenly muffling the ZaworthIan’s thoughts.  “Why were you on Cilehe, Ambassador?”

 

“I was there to do a favor for a friend,” she admitted easily.  “I will share some of it with you, for my Sisters share my trust in you.”

 

She gave them a moment to digest that bit of information, and wondered if they knew the honor done them.

 

 “This much of Ryu Gnaur’s tale I know to be true.  We, the children of Za, have a… gift… for espionage.  Our services are not for sale, for we do not offer them when the cause is unjust.  As one might expect, we make an effort to monitor the Rihannsu, but ZaworthIa has supplied…  surveillance attaches… to several cultures.  After I left the Empire to accept the ambassadorship, I was asked to go to Cilehe.  There was a situation it was felt I could remedy, because I had previously had dealings with the people involved.”

 

Ysaulte paused to take another sip of her brandy, dampening her dry lips.  That improbably sensation of drinking fire and smoke distracted her into dropping the rather impersonal manner of her report.

 

“One of those people worked for Marlak, of course.  I regret I caused some stir on leaving the Empire.  It was enough to give him notice, and he began to set a trap, which was Cilehe.”

 

“You don’t have to tell me this,” Jim started to say, but Ysaulte cut him off.

 

“I must, James.  When I think on it, I realize it probably was on my account that Enterprise was delayed at Cilehe.  Not at my request, see you, but on my account.  It would have been an effort to enhance my… safety, no doubt prompted by the person who asked me to go there.”

 

She fell silent, wondering about implications and ramifications.  Ysaulte knew she would never have voluntarily sought the starship’s help… had Marlak known that?  What possible reason could he have for involving the Enterprise?  Was this aimed, in part, at James and his ship?  What did Terrans say… kill two birds with one stone?

 

“Who asked you to go to Cilehe?”  Jim had to wonder, not surprised when Ysaulte shook her head.

 

“I was asked not to say.  If you wish, I shall tell you, but I prefer not.  I assure you, it is not directly relevant to the current situation.”

 

“All right, Ysaulte.”  Jim rubbed one hand over his head and stretched himself in his chair.  “So what do we do about Etumuuyea?”  He asked the ceiling with a sigh.

 

“It does appear to be irreconcilable,” Spock started to say, when the desk comm whistled peremptorily, forestalling the rest of his remark.

 

“Kirk here.”

 

“Lieutenant Palmer, Sir.  We just received a transmission from the Negus’s personal quarters, declaring a medical emergency and asking for Doctor McCoy and the Lady d’Aeviane.”

 

“No details?  Was it the Negus himself?”

 

“I’m sorry, Sir.  No details, but the voice print did not match what we have on file as Ryu Gnaur’s.”  Palmer informed him coolly.

 

“Understood.  Good work on that voiceprint analysis, Lieutenant.  Notify Doctor McCoy and ask him to meet me in the main transporter room.”

 

“Acknowledged, thank you, Sir.  Bridge out.”

 

“This could be…  another trap,” Jim looked at Ysaulte.  “We are obligated to assist as long as Etumuuyea remains within the Federation, but you don’t have to go.”

 

“I will go, as will Spock.  If there is healing to be done, I shall require his presence.”  The ZaworthIan’s iron will exposed itself once more.

 

“Why?”

 

Ysaulte bit her lower lip, then shrugged.

 

“This will not please you, but I wish him there to ensure your safety, James, as well as Leonard’s.  Now, we really must hurry.”

 

“Of course.”  Jim got up and waved Spock and Ysaulte out into the corridor ahead of himself.  “Should I arrange for an armed security detachment, as well?”

 

“Sah’des ka,” Ysaulte muttered for Vulcan hearing.  “I have annoyed him.”

 

“He likes to think he can take care of himself,” Spock said, his voice equally inaudible.  “He will get over it.”

 

Behind them, Jim’s aggravation had already faded at the sight of Spock and Ysaulte, walking down the corridor with their heads so close together; two sets of upswept ears attuned.  He was hard put to restrain a sudden grin.

 

They entered the transporter room where the Healer waited impatiently.  “Hello, Leonard.”

 

“Ysaulte, Spock.  Jim, don’t you have any details?”

 

“Afraid not, Doctor.  An unspecified medical emergency,” Jim hesitated, seeing the question on McCoy’s face.  “They specifically requested both you and the Lady d’Aeviane.”

 

Bones narrow gaze inspected Ysaulte.

 

“This might not be safe for you,” he warned, not unkindly.

 

“It might not be safe for any of us, Brother.”

 

The doctor shook his head and motioned Ysaulte onto the platform while Jim laid in the coordinates the bridge sent down.

 

“Spock, about these coordinates.”

 

The first officer peered over his captain’s shoulder.

 

“They do not correspond to our previous point of arrival, nor do they correspond to the area where we were imprisoned.  They would appear to place us within the Negus’s private apartments.”

 

“Then let’s go,” McCoy ordered brusquely.

 

Jim exchanged an amused glance with Spock, and they took their places on the platform.  The particle beams embraced them…

 

End Chapter Five