Sulu walked quickly down the corridor, rubbing one hand against the other and shivering, still. It had taken forever for the shuttle to reach them, and he didn't have a clue why a senior member of the bridge crew was piloting it. "Mr. Spock's orders," Uhura had snapped, and the landing party had piled into the shuttle without asking any questions. They were too cold, or ill, to care.

They abandoned their equipment on the planet's surface--Sulu didn't care if he never saw it again. He thought he was going to die on that godforsaken rock, frozen to death. Why had the captain delayed so long to save them? Why did he sound so confused? Why didn't he just send the shuttle?

It looked like Connolly was going to lose some toes. Vasquez had lost sight in both eyes from frozen corneas. Fa Lan's body temperature had dropped so low she was no longer responding. What the *hell* was the bridge doing, leaving them like that…

He had stopped in sickbay long enough to make sure his party was being well taken care of. Nurse Chapel had insisted on running a scan on him, too, though he had argued he was just fine, thank you. No point in shouting at her about bad command decisions; they weren't *her* fault.

Finally Sulu headed toward his quarters, thinking hard thoughts about the captain. Narrow escapes seemed to come about once a week on Kirk's Enterprise--Sulu had learned mostly to accept that style of space exploration. But this one, this time--it had been too close. Too--too bureaucratic, like they didn't matter, like the captain didn't care, wasn't paying any attention.

The door zipped open and Sulu headed straight for the replicator. First he specified green tea, then he heated some of his hoarded bottle of Tokyo sake and dumped it right into the mug with the tea. Not the family recipe, but this was a special occasion. The first sip was like molten gold--painfully hot, then fiery. Deliciously uncomfortable all the way down.

He sank onto the edge of the bunk and let the warmth drift into his bones. Still not enough, not by a long shot, but it was a start. He clenched his fingers around the cup and noticed the rough feel of the clay. He breathed in, breathed out. He reveled at the caress of the warm air, the feel the solid bunk beneath him. Life was good--until a little while ago he wasn't sure he was going to see very much more of it.

He finished his fortified tea in one long draft and crossed to his seiza bench. Sinking onto the smooth wood, he tucked his legs under him and tried to concentrate on the image poised on the small altar before him.

Kannon, goddess of compassion.

Normally he had no trouble honoring her, accepting her. Compassion for others--it was an important idea. Sometimes he found it hard in Starfleet to treat others in a compassionate way, but he tried. It was a more useful trait for life on shipboard than some of the other values his heritage transmitted to him.

There were times when he wanted to, to, just grab his sword and *cut* through the knot of delay, seize the moment, seize the prize in front of him. But so far he'd managed self-control, and obedience to his superiors. He told himself insubordination was not only a bad idea, it lacked compassion about his superiors' failings. Usually he could work off his frustrations in the gym, fencing.

But Kannon wasn't hearing him today. He had too much anger inside--anger at bureaucratic bumbling, at a senior officer who didn't pay enough attention to his crew. Damn. If it hadn't been for Spock's belated order about the shuttle, they'd still be down in those whipping, icy winds. He shivered again.

Sulu shook his head. There was no rescue in meditation this time. He looked up at the wall above, at the silk robe hanging there, with bamboo practice swords on either side. Given him by his grandfather as the ship prepared to leave spacedock, a most precious gift from far back in their family's history.

Keizo was a wise man. He knew many things about life. He knew why Sulu had to join the Fleet, had to see the stars. He knew how his grandson honored the family's warrior past and yet wanted new traditions. He knew Sulu constantly wrestled to balance the military and the religious, the spiritual, in his life. Sulu would have made a fine Samurai, centuries before: stoic, honorable, respectful of and loyal to those above him. Keizo was sorry to see his grandson's ship leave the San Francisco spacedock, but he knew Sulu wanted to test himself, to honor his ancestors and also find his own glory.

Sulu's mind began to float backward across his grandfather's parting advice about loyalty--but the intercom buzzed.

Damn again.

"Captain Kirk here, Mr. Sulu."

"Yes, sir."

"I want your report on the Alfa 177 landing party."

"Yes sir, right away."

"Now, Mr. Sulu. In my quarters."

"On my way, Captain."

Sighing to himself, Sulu climbed stiffly to his feet. On a happy impulse he pulled his dress jacket from the closet and shrugged it on as he headed for the door. It was a bit fancy for a debriefing, but technically he would still be in uniform, and much warmer.

* * *

Kirk's doorbell chimed and he mouthed a soft but audible "Come." He straightened himself, anticipating the entrance of his guest.

Sulu entered, only slightly puzzled by the choice of location. He was a little more surprised by his captain's appearance--it looked like he'd been the loser in a fight with a mountain lion. There were several gashes across his cheek, though he had tried to cover it with some kind of cream.

Strange.

Kirk gestured to his desk chair, said, "You there."

Sulu obediently sat.

Kirk slid onto the desk in front of him instead of taking a second chair. As he passed close by, Sulu could catch a whiff of brandy on his breath. Evidently he wasn't the only one needing to warm up a bit.

"The planet, Mr. Sulu."

Sulu began his account. He noted the presence of one or more odd magnetic ores. He commented on the unusual bifurcated plants they'd observed. He stated the effect of the 150-degree temperature swings on animal life, and tried to keep his voice level as he described the special adaptations the animals had all made--heavy fur, for instance--none of which the landing party members had had in that amazing cold…

He had just reached Mr. Dawson's discovery regarding the indivisibility of the ore-atoms when Kirk abruptly swung his feet onto the edges of Sulu's chair, straddling his legs. He leaned sharply forward toward the helmsman.

"You're a very observant man, Lieutenant Sulu. Very observant indeed."

"I try to be, sir." Sulu sat very still, puzzled by the captain's behavior.

"What do you observe about our current situation?"

"Well, sir, the transporters are down, and …"

Kirk interrupted him. "No, I meant this debriefing--just the two of us. Here."

"Ah, that we are not in a briefing room?"

"Anything else, Sulu? Hikaru?"

Sulu hesitated, noting the captain's use of his first name--something he'd never done before. Finally he said, "That the other members of the scientific and command staff are not present?"

"Very good. You're a smart man. And does this tell you anything?"

"Not really, no, sir. Is there a problem?"

"Nothing that can't be handled, Mister. You're pretty good at handling things, aren't you?"

"Sir?" Self-consciously Sulu clasped his hands in his lap, thinking this was one odd debriefing. Did this have something to do with the delay on the planet…

"Your hands, Lieutenant. Your hands. From where I sit, day after day in that big chair, I get a pretty good look at your hands."

"Ah, yes, sir, I guess you do."

"Your hands seem very strong. Very graceful."

"Ah, thank you, Captain. I try to do a good job."

"A good job," Kirk repeated. "Could you do a good job for me?" Two beats. "On me?"

"Sir? Captain?"

Kirk ran his hands down his sides and across his groin. He smiled wolfishly at his visitor.

"*On* me, Lieutenant. Like this."

Sulu watched in amazement as his captain stroked himself through the tight uniform cloth. He couldn't take his eyes off those hands moving confidently up and down, tracing the dark outline visible even through the Starfleet black.

He felt anger rising in him, anger and something harder to classify. How could Kirk be doing *this,* *now*--he should be composing an apology to each person he'd nearly killed by his delaying tactics.

Sulu licked his lips involuntarily. No question about it. Inattentive to the crew or not, the man was good-looking. Confident, handsome. Also his commanding officer.

Suddenly Kirk leaned forward and grabbed the helmsman's hands. Placed them on his groin.

Aaaaaahhhhhh, sighed the captain.

A wildfire shock ripped through the lieutenant. He always figured half the women on board had done this, but he never imagined he would himself. The man had a libido like … Sulu lost his train of thought. He had spent the better part of the last two shifts planning for eternity, and now this.

He lowered his head to hide his face, his surprise and indecision. Kirk did not let go of his companion's hands, but instead maneuvered the fingers to form a V. He nudged them back and forth. Sulu could feel his own flesh rising in response. Whether he wanted it to or not. Stimulation was stimulation--the body that had been expecting death cried out for its opposite.

Kirk abruptly ripped apart the concealed sides of his fly. He freed his penis with one hand while holding onto Sulu's hands with the other.

He whispered, "Isn't it beautiful? It's for you, Hikaru, for you. Suck it. Honor it. Make it love you…"

The captain tried to close Sulu's hands around his organ, but the helmsman stood up so quickly he nearly tipped his chair over backward.

Kirk sat looking at him in a calculating sort of way, arms crossed loosely on his knees.

"What's the matter? Not good enough for you, Sulu? Not big enough? Not hard enough?"

"Captain, I--I think you are unwell. We're both unwell. I…"

"I couldn't have Janice, Hikaru, but I'll have you. Don't you agree? I'd say that *part* of you agrees, anyhow." He stared at the outline of Sulu's erection, easily visible below the edge of the dress tunic. "Janice wouldn't spread her legs for me, but you don't have to, do you?"

Whispering to keep his control, Sulu said, "Janice Rand is a good woman. I'm not sure you would know what that means. But…"

"But you're going to show me, Sulu, aren't you?" The captain matched his whisper, but managed to keep the throaty sound of desire in his voice all the same. "You're going to show me just how much I can command you, how I can make you take anything I give, do anything I say, make you scream my name, and still want more…"

He reached for Sulu's arm, tried to twist the smaller man around in front of him. Like an eel Sulu spun in his hands and with no warning Kirk found himself face down on the table, both arms pulled up short behind him.

"How'd you do that?" Kirk sounded surprised.

"Judo," replied Sulu. He could hear Kirk panting, and muttering softly. The man didn't seem to be struggling to get away--on the contrary. Sulu was offended--did the man have no pride? No sense of dignity, of place?

The helmsman leaned down close. In a low voice he said, "I don't think you're aware that a number of my ancestors were *Samurai*, *sir*." He could see Kirk smile, his eyes half-closed. Kirk seemed to be enjoying his position very much.

"Samurai," whispered Kirk, writhing a little against Sulu's hands, grinding his pelvis against the table. "Perfect. Brutal, violent. Handsome. Fuck me, Sulu. You know you want to. You know you're angry--Why did my other half" --he corrected himself swiftly-- "Why did it take me so long to think of a shuttle? Make me suffer for it, show me what you've got. Show me that Samurai pride."

Sulu felt a silver cloud of rage sweep around him. This *bastard,* this *idiot* had nearly killed him and his landing party. He was not a leader to be respected. Nothing was bad enough for him, nothing too painful for him to suffer. This beautiful golden-haired man, the best in the Fleet the brass had said--he'd show this arrogant fool what it meant to be alive, *alive*--

Hardly thinking, he ripped down the other man's pants as well as his own. Without hesitation Sulu plunged forward, hammering himself against the other's ass. Kirk hissed at his entrance and struggled beneath him, lasciviously.

Triumph sang in Sulu's ears as he heard the other man feel pain.

§§ you must penetrate the depths of your enemy. penetrate with your sword, with your body, with your spirit §§

As the helmsman heaved against him, Kirk gradually shifted his posture. Sulu's hands left the other's imprisoned forearms and moved to his waist, where he had better control of the older man's pelvis. Kirk made no effort to get up, now that he was free.

§§godsssss so tight§§

Sulu held his position for a fractional moment, letting Kirk feel him sink all the way in. This man deserved as much pain as possible.

§§can you remember your crew *now*?§§

Kirk turned his head and remarked, matter-of-factly, "You're weak. You can't do it, can you? You can't make me…"

The helmsman leaned forward and grabbed the other's earlobe in his teeth hard enough to draw blood. Kirk broke off his sentence in a groan. Sulu flicked a lightning-hot tongue across Kirk's ear and murmured, "Watch me."

Quickly he ripped off his dress jacket and jerked it into a kind of knot around Kirk's wrists. The older man began writhing in hard anticipation.

"Tighter," hummed the captain. "Make my arms hurt."

Sulu clawed his hands along the other man's flanks and Kirk threw his head backward and shouted.

§§confront your enemy with the point of your sword…§§

Again Sulu seized Kirk's hips in his hands. He spread his fingers wide and dug them hard into Kirk's flesh. He shifted his weight and arched himself into his work like he was climbing a mountain. He slammed against the other over and over, feeling he'd never been so large in his life, never been so *alive*. So---warm, so not-dead.

Below him Kirk was breathing hard as his body was shoved forward and back by the strength of Sulu's thrusts. Fleetingly Sulu wondered about Kirk's sexual background. But as the rhythm of his body took over, his mind closed on just the one thing--he would *own* Kirk, he would *punish* Kirk, he would *show* Kirk---

After a long, savage series of strokes, Sulu came in agony, his conscience howling that this was all wrong, if good--all wrong all wrong---

* * *

He pulled himself free and dropped into his chair with an arm across his eyes. He could hear Kirk drag himself upright against the table. He opened his eyes and found the other man grinning at him sardonically.

Kirk caressed his still-engorged penis with a now-free hand and said, "I told you. You couldn't make me come, could you? Couldn't even tie me up right. It was a good ride, Sulu, but not good enough. Guess I'll have to keep looking. Possibly Mr. Spock is free--he looks strong. Or Dr. McCoy, with his interesting banquet of drugs…"

Lovingly Kirk began to stroke himself. He swung his hips forward toward his helmsman and said, "How about a quick lick for the road?"

Sulu turned his head away, and the next sounds he heard were of Kirk laughing loudly as he pulled up his pants and left the suite. The doors snapped open and shut.

Wearily, Sulu got to his feet and tried to pull himself together. He had been excused from bridge duty for this shift, but lingering in a captain's suite was a bad idea. Especially *this* captain.

As he returned to his quarters he encountered Mr. Scott, who seemed to think they were both on their way to a debriefing of the landing party. Rather than explain he had already given his report to the captain, and precisely how he had given it, he fell in behind the chief engineer.

They entered Briefing Room C and Mr. Spock waved them toward chairs. The other senior members of the bridge crew were already there--something big must be going on. Sulu was deeply perplexed, and very distracted. Sulu ground the heels of his hands against his eyes and leaned forward, elbows on knees. Mr. Scott cast a curious glance sideways and then looked away, to Sulu's intense relief.

People moved to take their seats. Dr. McCoy stepped to one side. Suddenly in view, on the other side of the table, was Captain Kirk, eyes closed, looking pale and weak. Sulu studied him carefully. He looked ill, --? or tired? and--where were the scratches on his cheek?

Mr. Spock began by noting the meeting was classified for the time being. Quickly he explained details to those who had not previously been informed. That the magnetic ore they had found on the planet had disabled the transporters, resulting in split personalities, multiple objects, twin dogs. That on board were two captains, this one, and--another. That one had the position of command, the other, the temperament for command.

At this, Captain Kirk smiled a little weakly and said, "I think a few of you have met my…double. Maybe I should apologize now for the inconveniences he's probably put you through. Also for the conflicting orders, the general confusion. Until we had a solution--and Mr. Spock says we do have one--we had to keep the situation under wraps."

He looked directly at his helmsman and said, "Mr. Sulu, I believe you and your landing party really suffered. I'm sorry you had to wait so long. It simply didn't occur to me to send a shuttle. No one wanted to undercut my, my…authority, until Mr. Spock finally… I'm sorry my actions hurt you… the others…" The captain trailed off somewhat faintly--clearly he wasn't himself, not by any stretch of the imagination.

As Mr. Spock took over the meeting and made dispositions, Sulu felt his anger go cold on him. Two Kirks. One, pleasant and kind, trying to think of the crew. The other… Sulu felt sick.

* * *

Late of an evening, Sulu sat at his desk, staring at the robe and swords on the wall. In the last day or so he had tried to speak to Dr. McCoy about his peculiar situation, but he couldn't bring himself to describe what he and the Other Kirk had done together, had *enjoyed,* when he admitted it to himself. He and his captain, his enemy, his lover.

Sulu clenched a fist around his mala, and fruitlessly thumbed another bead over. He felt shame for having misused his captain, anger and embarrassment for having been propositioned and then mocked. Puzzlement about the two halves of the captain--which one knew what?

There had been no further information from Spock about the captain's state of mind, after reunion in the transporter. Maybe he didn't even remember what Sulu had done. And yet--would he carry the memories alone? Was there never to be a second chance, with the man who *was* a leader, the golden man…

A soft chime at his door reined in his thoughts. "Come in," he responded.

The doors parted and there stood Captain Kirk. Holding a dress uniform jacket in his hands.

"Good evening," said the senior officer.

"Sir," replied Sulu, automatically standing. "Please, come in."

Kirk paced forward, then held the jacket out awkwardly.

"Yours, I believe."

With a nod Sulu acknowledged it. He observed it had been cleaned and re-creased.

Kirk placed the jacket on Sulu's desk. He walked over to the porthole and looked out.

"When my double and I were reunited in the transporter, I found that I had some…new memories. Of events. Of crewmembers."

The helmsman remained awkwardly silent. So his captain *did* know what they'd done.

Kirk turned and regarded his pilot. "Some of them involve you."

Unhappily Sulu admitted, "Yes, sir, that would not surprise me."

The captain went on, "The other day, Mr. Spock told me 'that's the way I am', when we were talking about his lack of emotions. I've come to agree with him--we have to accept ourselves for who--for what--we are, even if it isn't always pretty."

Kirk fell silent for a moment that stretched out like a river. Sulu darkly wondered if Mr. Spock's accept-yourself philosophy included predatory, libertine captains, and pilots who walked the fine line between assault and consensual rough sex.

In a quieter voice Kirk said, "I learned a lot about myself from the experience, from being split. I learned where my self-control comes from, where my power comes from."

Sulu stood up straight. "Sir, I would like to speak freely."

"Please stop calling me 'sir,' Hikaru; given the circumstances I think we can leave out some of the formality." Kirk walked away from the porthole and came to stand in front of the other man.

"Sir. Captain." Sulu struggled for the correct form of address and gave up. "I am not proud of my actions. I should have kept control of myself."

"Don't say that," said Kirk. "You sound like Spock. Heaven forbid."

"I did not know that you were, ah, ill. And it was wrong for me to--to treat a superior officer in that fashion." Sulu continued, "Possibly it's a court-martial offense--"

"Do I *look* like I'm ready to court-martial you? D'you think I want the two halves of James T. Kirk brought out in court?"

"--but even if it is," Sulu went on without losing his place, "I would have to admit--" he faltered a little--"that I …"

Kirk interrupted, holding up a hand, "I also learned where my, ah, my desire comes from. The part of me I'd like to think is the better half--wouldn't have had the nerve to do what the other half did, with you. Nor could he have …*allowed* himself to."

Kirk cast his eyes down, and Sulu noticed the man's knuckles whitening across the edge of the chair-back..

"But I'm both of those people, and you know it. Better than anyone else. I want to tell you, to say--what we did--I don't regret it, and I hope you don't either. Maybe we, ah, revealed more than we meant to, but--I think there must have been a reason why…"

Kirk trailed off.

In a low voice Sulu said, "There is."

After a minute Kirk held out a hand. The lieutenant took it, hesitating only briefly. Looking him straight in the eye, Kirk turned Sulu's hand over gently, and laid a soft kiss where the wrist joined the palm. Sulu slowly curled his fingers around the other's jaw, and lifted his head level with his own. He stared at the greeny-golden eyes. He was having trouble thinking clearly--embarrassment and compassion and something more electric were all milling around together, churning in his psyche.

The silence around them seemed to press in. At last Sulu brought the other's hand to his lips, and kissed the back of it. A voice in his head murmured §§compassion for others is important§§ -- a second voice replied §§you can call it compassion if you want to§§

"Sir, I have a little sake left," said Sulu. "Would you like some?"

"I'd *love* some sake," replied the captain.

***END***