Chapter Seven

 

Ysaulte emerged from the sonic shower, feeling, as she had once heard a Terran female say, ‘like a new woman’.  Another interesting metaphor, or was that a simile?  Her Standard had improved greatly in recent days, but there were still a few gaps.

         

She paused to loose her mind’s touch into the ship’s consciousness, glorying in the sensation of hearing the many.  When they’d cleared the limits of the thought-shielder and her perception had returned, Ysaulte had been knocked down yet again, this time by the blow of so many anxious voices, calling.  Jim had been there to shelter her from her momentary lack of preparedness, giving her time to reorient and respond…

         

As predicted, the Rihannsu warship had left orbit and the landing party beamed up the minute they’d escaped the overhanging mountains.  Ysidra, the Lady Protector, had bidden hello and goodbye in the same brief touch of thought, promising the Sisters’ vigilance.  Jim had moved his ship out of sensor range of Muuye following a brief conversation with Ryu Gnaur. 

 

Ysaulte laughed to herself, joyous in this brilliance of the All.  Compared to the deadness of mind found under the psionic nullifier, this vitality of will shone overwhelming…  and paramount within it, that inexplicable golden connection to this starship’s captain.  Reshielding slowly, Ysaulte brushed her hair, finding a certain soothing rhythm in both actions.

 

Checking her reflection in the looking glass, she decided to leave her hair unbound.  It was not the custom of her people, but was accepted among the starship crew…  and Ysaulte thought maybe Jim would like it.  When she had mentioned being too restless for sleep, he had reminded her of his invitation to dinner.  It was long past time for the evening meal, and Ysaulte was hungry…  but there was something else going on.  Something different…

 

Her appearance seemed alien even to herself.  From living among Terrans these few days, she supposed, and yet, was she not an alien sometimes among her own people?  Ysaulte felt unusually warm, heart rate half-again its normal pace.  What had changed in her, she wondered.

 

Without her will, Ysaulte’s irises swirled into darker velvet hues.  She had chosen to wear white on some impulse she did not understand, and her hair made a shawl of fire around her shoulders.  On another impulse, she pushed her hair back behind the points of her ears.  She had not said as much to Jim, but her ears were the sole physical evidence of her paternity.  No one purely of Za bore their like…  not that the Terran would care. 

 

Ysaulte laughed at her reflection, thinking there was at least one good reason to encourage her planet to enter the Federation.  The presence of Vulcans would make her a lot less noticeable!

 

“You don’t really believe that, surely, Ysaulte.”  Jim’s voice in her mind.  Ysaulte took a breath, enjoying the tingle of his thoughts before she went to the door.  It hissed open to admit the captain, in full formal dress.  Ysaulte quite forgot what to do with the air in her lungs.  As quickly forgotten were any questions about why he so clearly heard her musings.

 

“You look wonderful,” Jim whispered, shaken.  He’d always believed her beautiful, but to see her like this, hair loose to her waist, dressed in some silky white thing clinging sarong style…  “Ysaulte.  I’m impressed.”

 

“Thank you, James.  You are not less impressive,” she told him with a sudden, wicked grin.  “How is it said?  We ‘clean up good’?”

 

"Agreed, Lady.”  Jim bowed, holding out his arm with military precision.  Ysaulte accepted with a gracious curtsy, the movement outlining the curves of her body a little too faithfully for his good intentions, Jim thought.

 

He escorted her to the officer’s mess.  Per his orders, it was empty save them, one table set with crystal and china and silver serving dishes.

 

“This is lovely, James.”  Ysaulte’s mind-voice came unbidden, but not unwelcome.  He had missed her.  The very atmosphere held a different quality when she was around…  he could feel it as palpably as the heat from her body.

 

“I’ll bet you didn’t know a starship could extend this level of service,” Jim teased, seating her with exquisite manners.  “Surprised?”

 

“This ship is an instrument of diplomacy, is it not?  Why should I be surprised?”  She asked, then spoiled her serious reply by laughing, her face upturned to his.  “I am surprised, forgive me, a’shas,” her merry thoughts echoed.

 

Unable to help himself, Jim lowered his mouth onto hers for an instant’s honeyed kiss.

 

“Ysaulte,” his fingers brushed the slant of one ear.  “You really do look wonderful.”  He left her to serve their dinner, thinking he wouldn’t be able to trust himself if he stayed so near her, and forgetting the acuity of her perception until she blushed.

 

“I begin to believe you, shas.”

 

“You are going to tell me the ritual behind that word,” Jim demanded silently, his eyes locking onto the midnight swirl of hers.

 

Ysaulte stared at him, his voice in her head louder than the beat of her heart.  A heavy ache developed low in her belly, an ache not precisely a pain… more a hunger…

 

“James.  As thou wish it, I shall.”

 

As he watched, her irises lightened to a peculiar amber hue, and Jim Kirk felt every good intention he’d ever had go out the disposal chute as he stood in the force of a ZaworthIan’s desire.

 

“My God, Ysaulte__”  His mind stuttered as his autonomic nervous system threatened revolution; he was a man who took pride in his biocontrol, but he was a man…  “So help me,” Jim muttered, then felt as much as saw Ysaulte blink, confused.

 

“Call you on Deity, James?  Why?”

 

Jim sat down the plate he’d been holding and sank into his chair, shaking with laughter at her innocent question.  He was grateful for the distraction.  It gave him a chance to catch his breath.

 

“We need to talk, my Lady…  and we need to eat.  Doctor’s orders, remember?”  He poured her a glass of mineral water.  “To your health.”

 

Ysaulte lifted her glass, then drank of the liquid, which tasted as clear as it looked.

 

“From Terra?”  She wondered, savoring the pure clarity of the liquid.

 

“Yes.  Mountain spring water.  I thought it was appropriate.”  Jim poured himself a glass, drinking it down as if he wished it could appease more than his body’s thirst.  “Do you like it?”

 

“Very much.  Better than brandy, I sorrow to say,” Ysaulte admitted with a laugh, allowing him to refill her tumbler.

 

“I’ll have to teach you to appreciate good brandy,” Jim murmured.  His voice slid over Ysaulte’s hearing with satin promise, making her gasp.

 

“I’m sorry.  I’m trying to be good.”

 

“Don’t apologize,” she said faintly, a measure of her lack of composure evident in the contraction.  “I rather expect you are very good, indeed.”

 

Jim’s mind heard the double entendre, and that raised questions.

 

“Do you know what you’re doing?”

 

“I think I do.  Do you believe the galaxy turns by design, and the Designer watching?”  Ysaulte asked Jim in an apparent non-sequitur, but he was learning to expect the twists in her reasoning, he thought.

 

“A discovery which would strike fear in the heart of a lesser man,” she remarked dryly on listening to that notion, which eased the threads of tension in the room.

 

“And well it should,” Jim replied, teasing.  Ysaulte wrinkled her nose and grinned at him, full of that tolerant amusement women always have when men pretend to understand them.  He had to chuckle, perceiving the eternal feminine humor in her mind-set…  as always, finding this sense of her emotions irresistible.

 

“And will you reply to my question, then?  I would learn of you, know your thoughts…  and share mine with you.”  The offer was made with shy curiosity, for Ysaulte was more than a bit disconcerted by the steadiness of his gaze.  “There is pleasure in knowledge.”

 

“I understand, and I agree.”  Jim pulled himself together and methodically finished serving their meal.  “I do have a belief system involving a higher Power.  Most Terrans do, although individually we possess different conceptions of our own God.  These differences have led to much war and bloodshed in Earth’s past.”

 

“That makes little sense, James.”  At his nod, Ysaulte began eating.

 

“I don’t think I can explain it.  Our history is littered with religious fanatics who practiced either forced indoctrination or the extermination of everyone who didn’t share their beliefs.  It lead to an axiom advising polite behavior; ‘never discuss politics or religion’.”

 

“Wise on the surface.  Sounds like diplomacy,” Ysaulte noted caustically as the conversation ranged from verbal to mental when necessary.

 

“Do I take it you’re no admirer of the diplomatic process?”

 

“An unfortunate failing in an ambassador, neh?  Do you know, there is no word in my mother’s tongue for the Terran conception of diplomacy.  The most near term reaches back into ancient times.”

 

“What is it?”

 

“’A’kukse t’lan’h su’hlt’.  Literally, ‘he who fears the heart’s voice’.  It was considered a dreadful slur in its time.”

 

“That’s a little harsh, isn’t it?”  Jim asked, wincing.  “I’m not crazy about diplomats, either, but__”

 

“James, I have said this before, yet it bears repeating,” Ysaulte interrupted him with sudden impatience.  “You are naïve.  It endears you to my heart, but I cannot let this pass.  Diplomacy, as practiced by diplomats, is little more than a courteous lie.  I was told of the Federation’s great desire to have ZaworthIa admitted.  I was told, it was for our benefit, to protect us.”  She shook her head, managing to convey ZaworthIa’s astonishment at this presumption.  “This is less than a half truth.  Your diplomats have no comprehension.  ZaworthIan civilization has survived by a standard of honesty found within the voice unspoken for ten-thousand Standard years.”

 

Ysaulte sat back in her chair, an oddly resigned determination crossing her thoughts.

 

“There are things of which you are not fully aware.  I would ask you, share my perspective and consider, please.  We, the children of Za, are given eyes with which to see even unto the All.  Do you think the people of Sargon’s world lived unknown to us?”

 

Jim started at the unexpected question, but as requested, he took a moment to remember the force of Sargon’s personality still present in his disembodied psychic energy.  He could believe it might be felt across space and time…

 

“That kind of presence is ever known, a’shas.  There are Sisters whose duty it is to merely listen.  Sargon’s final battle may not be so far as you might think from the Federation’s grasp…  at least, this is ZaworthIa’s fear.”

 

“What do you mean?”

 

“With the combined power in the focused will of my people, we could reach out to smite the heart of ch’Rihan itself, and the very mountains move, James.  We fear the Federation views us as a weapon.”

 

Ysaulte got to her feet, pacing around the dining area with restless frustration.

 

“Ysidra said it was not likely ZaworthIa would join,” Jim said, understanding why, now.  He stood, moving reflexively toward the anxious ZaworthIan, stopping in front of her but not touching her.

 

“I’m sorry you’ve had such inept diplomats to deal with, Ysaulte.  Maybe I am naïve, but I wish your world belonged to the Federation for more reasons than the one you named.”  Jim reached out and caught Ysaulte’s upper arm.  Turning her to face him came as naturally as breathing.  “I’ve been in Star Fleet long enough to know that diplomacy, and politics, don’t always work from the best of intentions.”

 

Ysaulte stared into the multicolored depths of Jim’s hazel eyes, seeing past the blackness of his pupils into the efferent radiance of his consciousness.  His sense of honor, justice, and duty was so strong within him…

 

“Surely thou art the best of Terra’s children, and altogether beautiful in my sight,” she confessed silently, and Jim surprised them both by flushing to the roots of his hair.

 

 Quite beyond his volition, his free hand went to her other arm, holding the ZaworthIan motionless before him.  Ysaulte watched without blinking, her emotions betrayed in her steadfast regard, irises beginning to lighten.  Jim threaded his fingers through the silk of her hair, yielding to that much temptation…  and some deep part of him was gratified to see her eyes shift amber…

 

Feeling in sudden need of support, Ysaulte placed her hands against his chest.  Jim took one hand off her arm and rubbed his fingertips over her scalp, easing the faint tenderness caused by the weight of her hair…  conjuring that ache in the pit of her stomach.

 

“Ysaulte, I’m just a typical, headstrong human,” Jim found himself whispering into the elegant shell of one ear.  He drew her closer with the absolute care of a man handling antimatter; cautious, with a deliberate lack of fear.  “Don’t judge the many on the thoughts of the few.”

 

“James.”

 

He held his breath as she lifted one hand to his face.  The scent of her made him want… and he still wasn’t convinced this was anything more than wishful thinking on his part.

 

“What a lovely idea,” Ysaulte smiled up at him, charmed by the familiar concept in its Standard translation.  “We call it ‘sha’nai she’res’.”

 

 Jim closed his eyes as her fingers moved over his skin so lightly he almost wasn’t sure she touched him at all…  except he could feel her curiosity, her wonder at his fine, smooth skin, the tightness in her throat as her breath caught.  Ysaulte explored his features the way a blind person might, her fingers lingering at his temples.

 

“This is where thy friend touches thee, to join thy minds, neh?  I doubt that contact needed, James, although...”  Tracing the determined line of his jaw, she decided she appreciated the feel of his living flesh.  “There is a lot to be said for touch-telepathy.”

 

Jim’s hands clenched involuntarily.  He was shaken by the unvarnished affection he saw in her mind.  Ysaulte tilted her head back, a slight smile still curving her lips.

 

“Tell me, my Lord, what thou wouldst wish.  Can I but make it so, so shall it be.”

 

Jim opened his eyes to meet hers and realized their green-gold swirl was just a little too focused.  His conscience argued, but he couldn’t subdue the challenge that knowledge fostered…  and the sinuous warmth of Ysaulte was the provocation needed to push aside his better judgement.

 

“What if I wished for your fancy, my Lady?”  He lowered his mouth to her earlobe, inhaling the subtle sweet fragrance surrounding her, exhaling against the hollow beneath her ear.  “What wouldst thou have me wish?”

 

Jim disentangled one hand to support her back as Ysaulte swayed, weak-kneed.  Still acting from instinct, he ran his palm down her spine and listened as she gasped.  Her responsiveness was almost frightening, and Jim didn’t know if she fully understood everything that implied, yet he couldn’t let her go.  His nerves felt overshot with fire, echoing her pleasure.

 

“Ysaulte.”  Jim tasted the exquisite tenderness of the skin beneath her chin, very much aware of her vulnerability as well as her lack of fear.  Unable to resist the proud curve of her throat, he moved his lips in delicate exploration, hesitating at the indentations above her collarbones.

 

“I don’t suppose you call them collarbones,” he whispered, trying to divert himself with the irrelevancy.  He was astonishingly near forgetting any sense of restraint...  what little he had left was fast eroding under her reflected acceptance.

 

Jim’s thoughts resonated into Ysaulte’s comprehension, melting into the vibrations his touch was producing, taking her nearer some internal border between all that had passed before, and the incandescent demand of now.  She made the adjustment in her posture he had been unwilling to push, fitting her body against his in silent disagreement with his doubts.  Putting her arms around him, Ysaulte shivered as the level of sensation escalated.

 

“I had not believed it could feel like this!”  She found herself laughing with sheer exultation, nerves subsumed by tactile stimulation.  Allowing herself one last fierce squeeze, Ysaulte turned her head, correct in believing Jim would loosen his grip to allow it.  Hair freed, she then pulled out of his arms, for his reluctance was clear.  She was not sure why, but her Terran shas remained uneasy…  afraid for her.

 

“What troubles you?”

 

“I don’t want to frighten you, Ysaulte… but human sexual response is a biological imperative for us… a primitive instinct.”  Gods, what a blessing, not having to say this out loud.  “Have you really given this enough thought?”

 

“James.”  Ysaulte smiled at him with eyes washed amber.  “Give me your hands.”  She wrapped his fingers around her throat, placing her hands over his.  “Hear me, my Lord, for it seems to have escaped thee.”  The words opened her heart, lowering all defenses.  “I am a telepath, dear James, so it is can hardly be a question of ‘not enough thought’. The theory of… passion… is not unknown to me, merely the practice… and I could wish thine own fancy shared.”

 

The electric charge of Ysaulte’s words flushed over Jim like a fever, fueled by the throb of her life’s blood under his hands.  He felt dizzy with the combined fascination of her eyes and her mind, and could only hope she did appreciate the potential ramifications of what she offered…  it would crush something in his soul to frighten or hurt her.

 

“I beg of thee, rid thyself of this concern,” Ysaulte’s unspoken voice begged with that shining, immutable honesty, as unalloyed as all her emotions.  “I feel no fear at thy hands.  It is not possible, having so had the measure of thy thoughts.”

 

“You’re too trusting, Ysaulte.  You don’t know how much I want you.”  Jim rasped as her hands went to his throat, her fingertips settling over his carotids and completing some unseen circuit.

 

“Don’t I, beloved?”

 

Two hearts beating, two sets of lungs fighting for enough air to support the blinding storm of psionic energy they were creating, locked in mind.

 

“How can I be wrong to trust thee?  Seen within me, of this I am ever certain.  Thou art to be trusted unto the end of time, thou art as constant as stars, James.  An anchor__” Ysaulte stopped herself, plainly startled, and Jim felt the sudden confusion within her.  “Can this be so?”

 

A very small part of Jim’s mind tried to prompt him into telling her ‘no’, for his intuition verified the magnitude of her unexpected question.  If he wanted to back out, this was the time, because Ysaulte didn’t quite believe this could really be happening between them…  but how could he deny his own feelings, or Ysaulte’s, when they were so plain, so pure, so… loving?

 

“Yes, it can be so.  It is what Is,” he had the grace of spirit to reply formally; using the lyrical ZaworthIan he could pick from her thoughts.  “Such a beautiful language, my beautiful Lady.  Tell me more.”

 

Her touched appreciation made Jim tremble.

 

“Thou wouldst hear more?  a’Tohr, kha’el duIl’jha, kha’el jez’re, kha’el shas du’lan’h…”  The magical endearments echoed in his head, translating in unmistakable invitation:  ‘my Lord, thou art sword to me, thou art shield, thou art my soul’s center’.  The words resounded in his thoughts, the declarations phrases from history, pieces of ritual.

 

“Wouldst thou too see as the Sisters see?  Wish thou the Infinite?”

 

“Show me.”

 

With a painless but strangely audible snap, Jim felt his body fall away, shed like so much useless baggage.

 

“Ysaulte!”

 

“Do not fear.”

 

At first there was only her reassurance, holding Jim safe while he sorted through the sensory dissonance.

 

“As thou wouldst see, a’shas, wish it so.  Even Terrans know the wish is father to the thought, neh?”  Gently teasing, Ysaulte oriented Jim, laughing when she remembered the occasion of her thirteenth summer, when her Talent had matured.  “My mother was called to witness, for I was sore afraid, my Lord.”

 

Tender pressure on his mind, and Jim realized he was beginning to perceive variations in the radiance surrounding them.  They were pure energy afloat in endless space surrounded by glittering stars…  yet it was nothing at all like the physical universe.

 

“Forgive me, my Lord, but it is.  This is reality, my reality.  Attend, and learn.”

 

He felt her turn him somehow, and light showered over them, striking him with a sudden pull of warm familiarity.

 

“The ship’s mind, the collective consciousness of those who love thee, James.  This is forever, this power of will.  Everlasting.”  Ysaulte basked in the electrical reverberations.  “Is it not wondrous?  See thou why thou art believed so exceptional, by my Sisters… and by me?”

 

“Ysaulte.”  How could Jim possibly contradict her, faced with the luminous evidence of this otherworldly vision?  “It is wondrous.”

 

“I know it is not the Terran way to see this before the loss of thy life in the body.  I share this with thee, for thy faith lives in thee without limit, James.  Thou art one with the Infinite.”

 

Jim could feel the truth of Ysaulte’s words wrapping emotional arms around him, securing him with her solid belief in eternity.  Shocked, he recognized the magnitude of what she was showing him…  proof of the eternal, immortal soul.

 

“You do me great honor, my Lady.”

 

His considerable force of will moved over her in turn, reminding her of the waiting lures within his reality.

 

“James.”

 

He had a dim awareness of motion, then an odd lurch of impact as he felt his consciousness slide into his body, shocking him with sounds, lights, and pressures.  Startled, Jim discovered he was lying half on top of Ysaulte, his head pillowed on her chest… and very comfortably, at that.  No doubt she had maneuvered his fall, still protecting him.  Before he could do more than lever himself onto his elbows, Ysaulte’s eyes opened, lashes parting to reveal those remarkable irises.  Their gaze was opalescent gold.

 

“Shown thou this my heart, so shown my soul.”  Ysaulte reached for his face, taking it in her hands.  “Shown thou the measure of my thoughts.”  The refulgent facets of her mind were irresistible, embracing his will.  “Seen thou life reduced to its purest form, the energy of All.  Know thou, a’Tohr, wish is father to thought, and thought doth create reality in what Is... and there is that within thee naming me thine.  Think I see this not?”

 

Her devastating honesty rocked Jim again, driving him to equal her candor.

 

“I think, my Lady Ysaulte, there is that within thee, naming me thine.”

 

His blunt observation both delighted and terrified Ysaulte; delighted, because it was true, terrified, because he had seen it so clearly.

 

“Hah.  Cards on the table, then,” she challenged out loud, amusing Jim with her use of the idiom.

 

“Cards on the table, Ysaulte.”  Jim shifted his weight enough to free one hand, rubbing his thumb over her stubborn chin.  “You are mine, for now.”  He brushed his mouth across hers, catching her gasp, and sensing her unreserved agreement.  Tracing her full lower lip with his tongue, he teased her mouth open with his own particular sorcery.

 

Ysaulte felt drenched in fire, the ache of hunger within her making her understand his warning… a biological imperative, indeed.  Yes, she would kill or die to have him, thus.

 

It was Jim’s turn to gasp; his Lady Ambassador was none too shy with her explorations, holding him motionless in the grip of her sensual curiosity.  Ysaulte savored the taste of him, running her tongue along the tiny serrations of his teeth, and Jim felt her awed wonder at the impact of physical desire.  It reminded him of her relative innocence… 

 

No.  Not relative.  Just innocence.  He would be her first lover.  The realization prompted a flood of mixed reactions, not the least of which was his determination that she have the first time she deserved…  and he could surely do better than the deck of the officer’s mess.

 

Ysaulte’s faint embarrassment made Jim remember how clearly she saw him.  He drew his head back a little, feeling her smile against his mouth.

 

“Wouldst thou think less of me did I confess, the surroundings seem of little import,” she admitted ruefully.  Nothing else had mattered, and she felt a little ashamed.

 

“No, no.  Don’t ever be ashamed of how we make each other feel, Ysaulte.”

 

“James.  Even stars shine not before thee, beloved.”

 

Another phrase shrouded in history, and that endearment again.  Odd, how ‘beloved’ he felt, even sensing the word rendered a somewhat different meaning for the ZaworthIan, denoting close kinship.

 

He pulled himself away with a silent groan, helping Ysaulte up in the same smooth motion.

 

“Not so very different, James,” Ysaulte murmured, resting her fingertips on the pulse points of his throat.  She subdued their tension into a more subliminal awareness, mastering it with their calmer, but no less real affection.  Her Healer’s touch, for she would not see him discomfited…

 

Control semi-established, Ysaulte dropped her hands and watched him with honest eyes.

 

“I can well imagine the Terran translation appropriate, and value you above all others.  It is near enough that way for me now.”

 

Jim tucked her hair behind the points of her ears, giving in to a long-held ambition and caressing their elegant slant.  Ysaulte’s head tilted back involuntarily, her eyes reflecting her pleasure.

 

“That’s the ritual, isn’t it.”

 

Not a question, and she made no more half-hearted attempts at evading his interest.

 

“It is.  Pair bonding.  The pull of thought becomes all-important.  It is almost a myth now on ZaworthIa…  a myth, or a miracle.  It is most uncommon.”

 

“As you are, my Lady.”  Jim put his arms around her, aware he’d shaken her somehow… or she’d shaken herself.  Strangely, he wasn’t uncomfortable with the implications, and he tried to let her see that.

 

Ysaulte leaned against him with a sigh, needing the security of his embrace while she considered the possibilities.  Was she in fact drawn to his mind in the manner of her ancestors?  It would explain much…  yet it would be beyond belief if true.  He was an outworlder, a Terran! but she herself had named him hers, before her Sisters, before her enemy cousin, before All…  and it was not wrong, any of it.  Even if it should be true, and Jim and she tied in mind, the condition was not irreversible…  had she strength of will to see it done.  The latter thought gave her pause.

 

“Maybe that’s it, Ysaulte.  I said as much to Spock.  I keep thinking I should be afraid of this… afraid of you, but I’m not.  It would be a terrible loss of independence, and I know you’re stronger than I am, psionically,” Jim noted, following her thoughts with frightening ease.. 

 

"Less than you think," she said wryly, making Jim smile. 

 

Being mentally bound to Ysaulte would entail a loss of independence, but it would also mean an end to the loneliness and aching solitude he so often felt... those nights when his soul seemed so empty and his heart cried out for something to fill it.  He'd spent too many nights like that; racked up too many losses, seen too much destruction and too much pain.  He'd longed deep inside for a balance to those things, wanting something beautiful and good to counterweigh the bad... and by some miracle, or machination, he'd been presented with Ysaulte.  The ZaworthIan was a miracle all by herself, because aside from physical attraction, desire, and the growing intensity of his other feelings for her, Jim liked her.  He also treasured the way she made him feel when their minds mingled, like he belonged to something bigger than himself.  Who could blame him for wanting it all?  How could he not?

 

Knowing full well he wasn't thinking beyond the immediate future, for once, Jim didn't care. 

 

"I'm not worried.  It doesn't matter."

 

“It should,” she said, troubled by his frank admission.

 

“You’re being ridiculous.  You should be worried, but you’re not, which makes you worried?”

 

Ysaulte started to laugh, holding him close.

 

“Let tomorrow take care of itself, Ysaulte.  Something else my ancestors said,” Jim informed her with a grin.  “We’re strong-minded people.  That’s not going to change, whatever we do.”

 

“No.”  She smiled at him, liking him very much, and appreciating the mingled caution and satisfaction in his tone.  “I cannot promise to always agree.”

 

“Of course not.”

 

There was such resigned anticipation in his thoughts Ysaulte had to laugh again, marveling that he made her feel so light of heart.  Jim eased her concerns with the sure facility of a bondmate, she granted reluctantly to the voice of warning in her subconscious.  She well remembered her proud Rihannsu father giving her mother that same precious warmth of spirit with his silent teasing.

 

“Tell me about your parents,” Jim urged, caught by the pictures in Ysaulte’s memories.

 

“As thou wish it.”

 

He turned her toward the corridor, keeping one arm over her shoulders, pleased when she kept one arm around his waist.  They walked together, hints of a distant storm beneath the relaxed companionship in their postures.

 

“My father, Aeviane…  as I told you, was a warrior.  He was a sub-commander in his fleet, and he had Talent, psionically.  The Rihannsu believed some select few officers so gifted, would make possible the penetration of the ZaworthIan defenses.  A Sister captive held would make a valuable hostage.  As it happened, the mission was successful for both sides.  The Rihannsu obtained their objective, and possessed not one, but three Sisters… and we of Za had listeners planted within the Empire.  One of those listeners was my mother e’Sherea.  My father kept her… she was his reward, see thou, from the Imperial Senate.

 

"The unexpected occurred, and I was conceived.  It is our way to see our children born to the grace of our Mother Za, so e’Sherea fled ch’Rihan and Aeviane…  which of course, she could have done at any time, see thou…  but she loved him, James.  They had grown together, linked in mind, bound in soul.  Aeviane found he could not live without her, and followed her to make his home at her side.  For this, he was branded a traitor.”

 

They passed Ysaulte’s quarters without comment, the dim corridors quiet in the late watch.

 

“My mother knew my father was discontented at living on her homeworld, among her people.  She had him a spaceship built, my shas, and we lived along the frontier worlds, sometimes with only hours between us and Rihannsu assassins.”

 

“She left ZaworthIa for him, not once, but twice,” Jim whispered.

 

"Indeed.  e’Sherea was suspected of treason, herself, but__”  Ysaulte hesitated as the doors to Jim’s quarters hissed open, then closed behind them, leaving them in the dark of artificial night.

 

“But what?  What happened?”  Jim pressed, not sure why he felt such a need to hear this, but knowing it was significant, somehow.

 

“She appeared before her Sisters to defend him, bearing witness to her heart-call, for she was pair bonded to her Rihannsu warrior.  All stand in awe of d’shas t’sheres, the soul’s wish…  the ritual.  They were tied one unto the other, each willing to give up all that they had, and all that they were.  The Lady e’Sherea left ZaworthIa with Aeviane and the blessings of her Sisters went with, for they cherished her heart-call.  It is such a rarity now, that none could bear to disrupt it.”

 

“And what would your Sisters say to you, Ysaulte?” Jim wondered, having moved behind her, his hands in her hair baring the delicate nape of her neck.

 

“There would be no… disapproval, a’Tohr,” Ysaulte managed to reply, shivering when he stroked her bare skin.  “I was told, diplomacy is not everything.”

 

“Agreed.”  His thumbs kneaded along her spine, melting her bones until Ysaulte stood by main force of will.  Jim’s hands were infinitely tender, gentling her to his touch.  “But aren’t they concerned about how this might affect your judgment?”

 

“Such has not been said__”  That was a damned good question, Ysaulte realized indistinctly, the material world with its corporeal temptations paramount.

 

“It doesn’t matter,” Jim repeated, hearing confusion echo in her mind as her brain tried to decide which set of stimuli to respond to.   “We’ll add it to our list… and think about it… tomorrow,” he added unsteadily, caught in the resonance of Ysaulte’s emotions.  She had no concentration, no focus…  only feelings, his as much as her own.

 

She turned, and Jim’s heart jumped at the look on her face, dreams revealed in the amber smoke of her eyes.  He put his fingertips to her lips, the fine tremor in his hands dissolving whatever fleeting hesitation remained, coloring her irises pure, molten gold.  Physical hunger roared to life with reckless enthusiasm, unresolved need clawing through superficial control.  Ysaulte swayed, and would have fallen, but Jim pulled her against him.  She was the source of the storm, and intuition told him he could join her in it, or be consumed…

 

Ysaulte’s head fell back, the tacit surrender in the gesture more an invitation than submission.  Jim lowered his mouth to hers, pushed by the extremity of his own passion.  He let her feel how much he wanted her… he was learning faith in her acceptance, and he could not help himself.  The instant before her knees buckled, he swung her up into his arms.  A quick breath of uncertainty, then her hands locked around his nape, holding his head for her kiss.

 

Jim carried her into his sleeping quarters, sitting on the edge of his bunk with Ysaulte in his lap, exchanging long, open-mouthed kisses that burned like fire along their nerves.

 

“Tell me the ritual, Ysaulte.”

 

“Ah, praise Za, I should tell thee anything, if thou wilt only remain so, in my mind…”

 

His eyes were too dark to read in this light, but Ysaulte had no need of her sight.  This could no longer be turned or deterred, and he was right to demand ritual, this Terran man...  closer to her than any Sister, he spoke with her voice...  here, the elemental need laid bare.

 

Jim felt her internal arguments quiet beneath the acknowledgement, then shared her sense of wonder, that awed surprise occurring when legend unexpectedly materializes into unimpeachable reality.  They shared a sudden euphoric glee.

 

“My beloved, certain thou art?”

 

“I am.  It needs to be said…  I need it to be said.”

 

“Yes.”  Ysaulte put his hands to her throat, and hers to his, which was also ritual… stepping with him once more into the plane of eternity.

 

“Thou art with me, in body as in spirit.  Live we tied by mind by hearts forever safe secured.  Into what Is I call for witness; set into eternal truth, thou art an anchor, constant unto everlasting stars, yet even stars shine not before thee, bondmate, bond-companion__”  Ysaulte paused, and Jim had a faint awareness of some commotion at the very limits of her perception, then she went on.

 

“Shown thou this my heart, so shown my soul, so known.  These to thee the very measure of my thoughts as thine in me.  Thou worthy, well with which to stand, sword thou art, so too a shield.  One voice, ceasing never, within and without.  Hear now the All, thou art the center of my soul.”

 

The words poured forth with inalienable veracity, striking an almost-hidden chord in Jim and echoing his agreement…  knocking them down.  Ysaulte clung to him in the face of the psionic winds summoned at her call.  The sheer power in the vows bared their souls, removing every barrier…  dissolving reality and reforming it around them.  That sense of the Infinite faded slowly into memory, leaving them one with the other and locked in mind.

 

“Ysaulte.”  Moving his hands to her shoulders, Jim turned her beneath him, the length of her body branding him with heat.  He couldn’t see, the radiance of thought blinding… so he searched out her mouth the long way, savoring the silk of her skin with indolent deliberation.

 

Conjoined to her emotional responses, Jim let himself linger, and wander, her ritual words still singing in his mind.

 

“On my world, we say ‘to have and to hold, from this day forward…  until we are parted by death’.  It’s not pair bonding like your world means it…  but I have seen a ceremony where it was…”  Jim tasted her throat, cherishing their connection when she shuddered.

 

“Tell me, beloved,” Ysaulte encouraged in a hoarse whisper, tangling her fingers in his hair.

 

“As it was in the dawn of our days, so it is today, so it will be for all our tomorrows…”  Ancient breezes stirred within a circle of stone, thin air carrying the sound of bells; Jim painted a picture for his Lady with illusory reminiscence and spoke his heart’s respectful impression, words heard once and taken to heart.  “Ysaulte.  Parted from me, and never parted.  Never and always touching and touched…”

 

“James.”  Ysaulte’s spine arched as his mouth met hers, the tastes and textures of his need making her feel restless and empty in essential, female ways.  “How I value thee the telling of these promises to time.”

 

“And promises to thee, my beautiful Ysaulte.”

 

Jim rolled them over, ceding her the dominant position and groaning as she settled against him, rocking him in the cradle of her hips.  Accustomed as he was to maintaining some kind of control, he was aware of its impending absence…  Smoothing the silky material of her gown over her lower back, he was rewarded by the drenching pleasure her thoughts reflected.  So much, too much, and still he wanted more, tantalized by the growing wildness of her arousal.

 

Ysaulte tried to hold to some facsimile of sanity, but the resonance of one in one echoed overwhelmingly.  Her fingers caught the seam of his formal tunic, tugging it open then off, gasping as he moved beneath her hands in an effort to help.

 

“Know thou, it is in me to merely wish these things away,” she informed Jim throatily, tracing the supple definitions of his muscles through the thin barrier of his undershirt.  He found the tucked end of her dress and unwrapped her with tender, incredible care, sensitizing her skin with the gradual fall of her clothing.

 

“Beautiful Ysaulte,” Jim repeated, smiling.  “As thou wish it, so shall it be.”

 

She laughed, that same triumphant, musical sound he’d heard her make in the ul Nru caves.  This time, he could feel her evident satisfaction with her inner strength, and with him…  Her confident arrogance amused him during the second it took her to focus her will.  Psionic power surged, a sudden fire against his flesh vanishing before it burned…  leaving the miracle of body to body.

 

“My God, you meant it!”

 

Ysaulte was unable to answer his astonishment, caught in the sensory bombardment she’d initiated.  Measuring herself against James, she imprinted his touch into her physical memory, completely unafraid, and yet…

 

“One must reinstruct oneself within corporeal limitations in order to avoid creating a learned response to noxious stimuli,” Jim whispered Spock’s dry comment, investing the words with a whole new meaning when he ran his hands down the taut line of her spine and onto her flanks.  Fingers counting her ribs, he provoked a surprised giggle.  “You’re ticklish!”

 

“I did not know,” Ysaulte admitted as he hugged her.  The mirrored purity of his consciousness amazed her, filling her perceptions to the near exclusion of everything else.  Rationality wavered, shredded by his subsumption of her nervous system.  Even so…  “There is much I do not know, a’Tohr.”

 

Jim heard the subtle residue of uncertainty in the thought, loving Ysaulte for the innocence it revealed…  she was not afraid of him, but she was afraid of disappointing him.  His own nerves singing, restraint dissolved under the sensual magic of her skin upon his.  Stroking his palms over the slope of her hips, he held her motionless and moved against her, telling her how good she felt…  the delicious weight of her relaxation covering him, heightened by the fever-heat in her blood.

 

“My joy to teach you, my Lady fair,” he murmured into her mind with heartfelt honesty, suddenly very glad to be where he was; alive, with Ysaulte in his arms, his ship their shelter…  joy, indeed.  He shared her reassurance, her comprehension of his mood.

 

“The life of the body well beloved,” Ysaulte acknowledged, elated with the happiness James brought her.

 

Pleasure surged, in degrees that ranged from simple caring, to more complex depths of hot desire that awaited concession with impatient demand.  Jim could see it all, so attuned to her responses.  He turned them to their sides, freeing hands for gentle exploration, but hesitancy and gentleness was quickly forgotten in the resultant rush of sensation.  There was only passion, speaking in gasps and shudders… his no less than hers, for she was driven by her own need to learn him.

 

Jim kissed Ysaulte, then kissed her again, swallowing the little sounds she made in her hunger, and still able to hear them in his mind!  At length, he moved over her, hearing her wish that he cover her, be upon her, inside her…

 

“I love you, Ysaulte,” he promised raggedly, his intentions careful, but his Lady would have none of that!  She grasped his hips and pulled.

 

“Thou, beloved James, thou!”

 

No more conscious expression for either, that first flush of satisfaction in their joining swelling into deeper, more elemental ardor…  Jim wrapped his arms around Ysaulte and taught his Lady how to fly into the sun.

 

***

 

“How fine,” Ysaulte thought dimly as the last, rapturous aftershocks trembled between them before fading into cherished memory.  “Thou art sorcerer, in truth, my Lord.  I had not believed it could be thusly, not after…”

 

She had no need to finish even a thought, for he understood, and held her closer still.

 

“I knew it would be like this,” Jim announced, making her smile… he felt it in her mind.  Lifting his head, he waited for his vision to clear enough to see her eyes, gone a luminously brilliant blue.  Proclamation of Ysaulte’s utter contentment…  the color of trust, he realized.  She was safe in the arms of a man who loved her.  Her certainty warmed them, bound in thought as they were.  “An anchor, constant unto everlasting stars.”

 

Ysaulte listened to Jim remembering the ritual words, felt him touch their psionic ties.

 

“There’s so much poetry in your people, Ysaulte.  So much poetry in you.”

 

Jim watched her irises shifting, swirling gold within the blue, as she caressed him with her hands and with her mind.

 

“Think thee thou art not poetry thyself, a’Tohr James?”  Ysaulte wondered, unsurprised to find she wanted him again.  An eternity could never be long enough, let alone whatever span of time the galaxy permitted.  “Even stars shine not before thee, beloved.”

 

“Ysaulte.”

 

It was a long while before either spoke again.

 

***

 

Parsecs away, a rather bemused planetary governess stood at the windows of the council room, watching constellations appear in the twilight turquoise evening.

 

“Told the one, thou didst, Anthe.  Diplomacy is not everything!”  The Lady Protector had the nerve to laugh, and the K’intohrza laughed with her.

 

“I had not thought she wouldst so name him her bond companion.  The one astonishes.”

 

A rustle behind them and the Lady Eyra hobbled in, bones so old no Healer’s touch could make them straight…  but tonight she felt no ache of years.

 

“The Circle waits, Anthe,” Eyra informed, eyes smiling.  “What is known by one is known by All.”  The formal declaration did not hide the elder Lady’s pleasure.  “I am well reminded of another such occasion; e’Sherea’s bonding to Aeviane,” she added softly, coming to stand at Anthe’s side.

 

“We did not see that coming either,” Ysidra put in with her customary lack of tact, to which her K’intohrza was long accustomed.

 

“And having seen it, Sisters, it cannot be denied.”

 

Anthe’s decision had been made.  Ysidra grinned at Eyra.

 

“Be they bound in one another,” Anthe allowed, not unaware of her Sisters’ amused relief.  “How should it be elsely done?  Ysaulte is the child of her mother, neh?”

 

They took a moment to savor the proof of their perceptions, the evidence of Ysaulte’s devotion insuperable; a nova in the psychic sky.

 

“I must confess to envy,” Ysidra remarked before the Circle joined in mind.  “He is one worthy, Anthe.”

 

“My thanks, beloved,” the K’intohrza welcomed the reassurance, knowing Ysidra had had the measure of the Terran’s thoughts herself…  still, a Terran!

 

“A starship captain,” Eyra corrected with a grandmother’s pride, then suffered the laughter of her Sisters with good-natured patience.

 

The ZaworthIan Circle united in will…

 

***

 

Marlak was alone, with no one to witness the terrible snarl he uttered in the instant of Ysaulte’s willing surrender… although the Romulan senator could not have explained how he knew it for the truth.  A spasm of unexpected pain clutched him in cold arms, and he sat down, ringing the servitors for ale.  It was going to be a long day.

 

***

 

One more witness, one more listener also alone: the Vulcan, deep in meditation before his fire-demon.  A distant song at the back of his mind forcibly transformed into a symphony…  so intense he knew at once what it signified.

 

“Jim.”  Spock stopped the involuntary twitch of his muscles, catching himself in favor of more internalized attention.  Lowering his mental shields, he could ‘hear’ all.  The ambassador’s rather liturgical incantation, Jim’s more startling responses, and under the surface declarations such a purity of feeling as to seem almost righteous…  no.  He had no just cause for interference.

 

Spock closed his eyes, but did not resume his meditations, too lost in the music made by loving spirits.

 

“Fascinating.”

 

***

 

Ysaulte lay spent in her lover’s embrace, part of her still marveling this should be so, a larger part beginning to accept it for what was.  She yawned, and Jim eased her onto her side next to him, pulling the thermal blanket over them both.

 

“James.”

 

He said nothing, understanding she had merely indulged herself in speaking his name.  He smoothed her hair away from her face, practically hypnotizing her into sleep, for Ysaulte was tired enough to find that dark magician elusive.

 

“Go we on the morrow to Muuye?”  Ysaulte asked between yawns, feeling the barriers falling before her subconscious.

 

“It is tomorrow,” Jim murmured, cuddling her against him with his own yawn.  “Probably.  Much later.  Don’t worry.”

 

“I’m not,” she protested out loud, and quite untruthfully.

 

“I love you, Lady fair,” Jim thought, listening to the echo in her mind as she slid from wakefulness.  Secure inside himself with that inherent surety which comes of being accepted and adored, Jim dozed off as well…

 

End Chapter Seven