Title: After The Rescue

Part: NEW 0/73

Author: Karmen Ghia

Series: TOS

Romance Code: S/Mc and then some.

Rating: NC-17

Legend: * * * separates events in time; ~ separates events that are more or less simultaneous.

Summary: How things changed between Spock and McCoy after the rescue.

The narrative takes place primarily from the rescue from the Galileo to Spock's entry into Gol. There are flashbacks up to thirty or more years and an epilogue that reaches well into the future. The story is mainly about the complex relationship between Spock and McCoy, which is further complicated by certain unforeseen events. It is also the story of Spock's childhood friends from Vulcan, the Talljet brothers, and their sudden, unexpected and reluctant return to his life and the ensuing events and consequences.

The story is told in six parts, including the prologue. When I got to what is now the end of the prologue, I had to make a decision: stop or take the long way home. As you will see, I took the long way. This is something of an explanation (apology, perhaps) for the shift in tone between the prologue and the rest of the story. One of its early readers compared _After the Rescue_ to life: less sex and more character as it goes on and perhaps more satisfying in its own quiet way. I took it as a compliment. Do not, however, despair: There is a whole lot of slash slathered about in parts I-V, just not as much as the prologue.

This story is the product of several years of idle fantasy that began well before I'd ever even heard of slash. It was written in a gay, mad, hours-of-typing kind of whirl between October 1998 and April 1999. It represents some of the hardest and most enjoyable work I have ever done. It seemed as if this story was just under my fingers every time I put my hands on the keyboard. I would like to thank my RL friends who didn't understand what I was doing writing this story, but respected the way I was doing it and have had the patience to remain my friends through it all. (I 'spose I should also thank East Bay Barber, who left off _Training Greg_ at episode nineteen in early October 1998 and didn't pick up the thread until late May or so in 1999. _After the Rescue_ just happened to be written in that window of time and I think there's a connection there somewheres.) I've learned a lot about a lot over the past year. Thanks, everyone; it's been swell.

Warning: This story contains m/m sex. If you are not interested in and/or offended by such things, you will find reading this a complete waste of your time so please move on. If you are under 18 years of age, please please move on. Children, childhood ends all too soon and adulthood lasts all too long. All this will still be around when you are old enough to read it so there IS something to look forward to.

Disclaimer: Copyright 1999 by Karmen Ghia. This is an original work of amateur fiction based on Star Trek. It makes transformative use of Star Trek and is intended only for noncommercial purposes. This work makes "fair use" of Star Trek copyrighted material; it is not intended to infringe on the intellectual property rights of Paramount, Viacom or other owners of copyright in Star Trek or any of their assignees or licensees. The author's copyright extends only to the original material in this work.

Further disclaimer: Since Idaho is taken, this is my own private Star Trek. Don't be nervous. It's not canon but I wouldn't call it A/U either.

Archive: Okay to archive provided that headers, disclaimers, my name, and email are attached. Please archive complete text only and drop me a note at karmen_ghia@yahoo.com to let me know where it is. Thank you in advance.

Beta by Jane. My gratitude for the next ten lives. Many, many thanks to Skazinetilsky for the Gamma and Scarlet, proofreader of the life divine.

APPENDICES A-D

APPENDIX A: Glossary

Cheq- half (adjective, suffix);

Fara - beautiful one (noun);

Fara - the beautiful, the beautiful one (suffix);

Gyharine - boy for sale;

Hemzjit - let's go;

Hochofedra - oh well, ah well, as god wills it, it shall it be done, whatever, life goes on, what can you do?, we'll see, let's see, why not?, let's try it, whyever?, let's not try it, etc. (always accompanied by a shrug, often used as part of a farewell);

Krinat - the dancer;

Noli - younger brother;

Nolo - elder brother;

Sait - old man;

SpockDeVulCheq - Spock the half Vulcan;

APPENDIX B: Dramatis Personae

STAR FLEETERS NOT ON THE ENTERPRISE

Admiral Paulo Jessup;

Commander Boris Ripley - Jessup's aide;

Commodore William Yakolev;

Maria Norris - Captain of the USS Shilo;

Thomas Albany - First Officer of the USS Shilo;

Grace Blyton - Captain of the Aketi;

Robert Xu - Captain of the Bharata;

Commander Carlos Sunna - First Officer on the USS Albright;

Number One - Captain of the USS Albright

Commodore Montana Wolfe;

Commander Robert Lapham - Star Fleet attorney;

Commander Lise Charbon - Star Fleet attorney;

Lieutenant Nicholas Sarfati - Star Fleet attorney;

Commander Jaroslav Tikel - rescued from slavery by the Gozshedrefreingin Commune

Ensign Dmitri Grushinkev - rescued from slavery by the Gozshedrefreingin Commune

Dr. Arthur Castaris - Hobie's adopted father; member of Star Fleet Scientific Mission #86-543

Dr. Gregor Romsky - Jir's adopted father; member of Star Fleet Scientific Mission #86-543

Dr. James MacQuarrie - Maja's adopted father; member of Star Fleet Scientific Mission #86-543

Dr. Paul Duvallier - Ling's adopted father; member of Star Fleet Scientific Mission #86-543

Dr. Lazroid - member of Star Fleet Scientific Mission #86-543

Dr. Wilton - member of Star Fleet Scientific Mission #86-543

TALLJETS

Hobie Talljet, Hobie Tossara (of Tossar), Hobie the Pirate, Harold Easton Castairs - eldest Talljet, shipbuilder, entrepreneur;

Jir Talljet, Jira Krinat (Jir the Dancer), Yuri Gregorovich Romsky - Hobie's younger brother, dancer, attorney licensed to appear before the Vulcan bar;

Maja Talljet, Master Gozine Gozshedrefreingin Ghet, Gozine the Confessor, Michael James MacQuarrie - Jir's younger brother, Klingon Master Sculptor, head of the Gozshedrefreingin Commune; <> Ling Talljet, Ling Gyharine (Ling the Whore), Louis Phillipe Duvallier - Maja's younger brother, developmental economist, chartered accountant, prostitute, tycoon, and author.

JETCHEQS (HALF TALLJETS)

Tien Gozshedrefreingin baMajaKhat (father unspecified, adopted by Master Khat),

Hraja Gozshedrefreingin baMajaKhat (fathered by Master Khat),

Farro Gozshedrefreingin baMajaKhat (father deceased, adopted by Master Khat) - Maja Talljet's eldest, middle and youngest sons, all members of the Gozshedrefreingin Commune of the most Holy Klingon Church.

Polmira, Lyra and Bot Tossaria (children of Tossar) - Hobie Talljet's children with Tossar the Pirate, frequently residing with their cousins in the Gozshedrefreingin Commune.

Hobeia, Rezdi and Catanya Krinatia (children of the Dancer), Jir's children, fathers unknown.

COMMUNISTS

Bhotebe - one of Master Ghet's apprentices;

KalzatMzir - lover of Tien, Gozshedrefreingin Commune defense strategist.

Master Brij Gozshedrefreingin Whilla - Master Architect and Structural Designer;

Master Gozine Gozshedrefreingin Ghet, Gozine the Confessor, Maja Talljet - Master Sculptor in stone, head of the Commune; master to Journeyman Hraja;

Master Irt Gozshedrefreingin Pzchaz - Master of Terrain Design;

Master Maja Gozshedrefreingin Khat, Maja the Rom, Maja I - Master Painter, Master to Journeyman Tien, father to the MajaCheqs, rejected son of Prince, and later Emperor, KvortineTzaj;

Master Uzqin Gozshedrefreingin Dhec - Master Sculptor in metals, Master to Journeyman Farro;

VULCANS

Lady Amanda - wife of Sarek, mother of SpockDeVulCheq, heroine;

Sarek of Vulcan - Vulcan Ambassador, high ranking member of the Vulcan Interplanetary Ministry, father of SpockDeVulCheq;

SaDrosta - a very famous Vulcan dancer, formerly Jir's dance partner;

SaGolia - Matriarch of the Sa Clan;

SaMirt - Vulcan historian, crony of SaGolia's;

SaVoren, often called Voren - itinerant linguist, one-time resident of Magidrian, friend of the Talljets;

SiVrisa - One of Hobie and Jir's teachers at the Western Vulcan Preparatory Institute.

Sbat - Prince Strig's father, old school friend of Spock and the Talljets.

Sdiz of Vulcan - Vulcan Ambassador, associated with Commodore Yakolev;

Sirev - Member of Dr. Styren's research team on Plintes 3;

Sjrika - Vulcan judge;

Prince Smig, often called Mig - Jir's secretary and sometimes understudy in Jir's theatrical company, also a Vulcan attorney;

Smirek - Sarek's secretary;

Sobora - Jir's legal assistant at Talljet and Storen;

Sovort - Sarek's assistant

Spoda - husband of T'Paga;

Spyrin - a prison guard;

Sredia - major domo for Sarek;

Stez - lover and business partner of Ling Talljet;

Strat - a very famous Vulcan lyre player, an old friend, who often played in ensembles with Hobie and occasionally coached Spock in lyre playing;

Prince Sribit - Prince Strig's uncle, old school friend of Spock and the Talljets;

Srizek - Storen and Stonet's father;

Prince Strig - admirer of Polmira;

Strin - Maja and Ling's teacher at Middle School #3;

Stonn - husband of T'Pring;

Stonet - Kolinar, formerly Jir's lover;

Storen - Jir's law partner, Stonet's brother;

Dr. Styren - very famous xenobiologist, head of the Plintes 3 research mission;

SuLorma - Maja's Vulcan art teacher;

Lord Suqiet - Vulcan judge;

Svik - owner of Maja's favorite Shirkar art supply store;

Svreg - T'Pring's father. T'Pala - Shirkar innkeeper;

T'Pau - Matriarch of the House of Surak;

Princess T'Pira - Matriarch of clan T'Pira, Prince Strig's great grandmother;

Lady T'Pnov - Vulcan judge;

T'Poldi - Sirev's grandmother, friend of SaGolia;

T'Pring - former fiancee of SpockDeVulCheq;

T'Prizi - a very talkative old woman Spock and Maja have known since they were children;

T'Prol - former matriarch of the Sa clan;

THE SAS AND THEIR DEPENDENTS, PAST AND PRESENT

SaBrzia - Famous linguist, formerly head of Linguistics at the Vulcan Institute, head of the Sa Clan;

SaCriz - SaBrzia's cousin, pupil, teacher of Standard at the Western Vulcan Preparatory Institute;

SaKoza - linguist, famous beauty;

SaSkolta - dancer, famous beauty;

SaTinn - SaBrzia's pupil, former Vulcan Institute xenolinguist;

SaXri - SaBrzia's pupil, former Vulcan Institute xenolinguist;

SerNera - SaBrzia's pupil, Klingonese tutor for the diplomatic section of the Vulcan Institute, Sarek's Klingonese tutor;

SiJidi - SaBrzia's pupil, protégé, lover, SiRond's cousin; Smvit - SaBrzia's pupil, Vulcan grammar and composition teacher at Shirkar Middle School #3 and occasionally Klingonese tutor for the diplomatic section of the Vulcan Institute;

SoLri - SaBrzia's pupil, teacher of Standard at the Western Vulcan Preparatory Institute;

Sonza - SaBrzia's pupil, former Vulcan Institute xenolinguist;

Spaga - SaBrzia's pupil, Vulcan grammar and composition teacher at Shirkar Middle School #3;

Sriri - SaBrzia's pupil;

Svurek - doorkeeper and retainer;

KLINGONS

BorlaKhat - MajaKhat's adopted father;

The Haat and Yhet Clans - powerful families continually in competition to run the Empire through the weak emperor;

The Tzaj Clan - the current Imperial family;

Admiral KahbreKyrit - Klingon Ambassador on Vulcan;

Coronel KhalatzTzir - evil member of the garrison on Rovirin;

Captain KhatanyaDhin - trusted escort of Kzost, friend to the Talljets;

General KizjietHaat - head of the garrison on Rovirin;

General KmordriYhet - one of the powers behind the Klong-Rom throne and Admiral KzaxreaYhet's nephew;

The Hierophant Kroldt - aligned with the Haat Clan, lover of Master Ghet (Maja Talljet);

Major KrisaBhign - evil member of the Magidrian garrison;

Admiral KzaxreaYhet - Regent for the Klingon emperor;

Major KzinivDhalk - a diplomat, assigned to the Klingon Mission in Shirkar, Vulcanophile;

Commodore and later Admiral KzostGhet - Klingon governor on Magidrian, patron of the Talljets;

Malira - BorlaKhat's wife, disgraced and exiled Romulan princess, former wife of the Prince and later Emperor Kvortine, mother of MajaKhat;

VARIOUS OTHERS

Ashon - bounty hunter;

Avara - Nvra-miq's madam;

Boda - Rovirin gypsy fortuneteller;

Brnia - former employee of the Pholtana shipyard;

Dolo-fra - Hobie's engineer on the Tien, former employee of the Pholtana shipyard;

Doxska - former employee of the Pholtana shipyard;

Dve Krit - former smuggler and drug trafficker, now in prison for smuggling and drug trafficking, witness to Gatshira's death;

Ebiv - captain of the Maja;

Gatshira - former, now deceased fence on Fobda;

Horva - pirates in the Tziviian Autonomous Zone;

Hypz - former, now deceased dictator of Meza 6;

Ibri Adniz - pirate, witness to Hypz death;

Coronel Imstk - General Morel's aide de camp;

Jvria - former employee of the Pholtana shipyard;

Laninin - son of Mr. Yrit and Mr. Gvo, 'adopted' by Hobie, raised by Ling and Qhoshi;

Lii - former assassin and gangster, now in prison for murder and racketeering, witness to Gatshira's death;

Mizat - Hobie's communications officer on the Tien;

General Morel - Yustala's uncle, defender or Rovirin;

Morga - Obsta Fira's henchman;

Movra - captain of the Yaga;

Mr. Yrit and Mr. Gvo - empath/telepath bounty hunters, parents of Laninin;

Neria-Tza - Hobie's First Mate on the Tien;

Nvra-miq - crime czar stranded on Imk;

Father Polmira - head of the Talljet Monastery on Magidrian;

Obsta Fira - Master Thief;

Ovri - Imk musician;

Oza-Tol - one of Hobie's crew on the Tien, former employee of the Pholtana shipyard;

Pholt - Master of the Pholtana Shipyard;

Phr-tolnet - Jir's leading man and co-star in the theatrical company;

Qhoshi - madam of Ling's joyhouse, lead empath whore, managing director of Talljet Inc., former novice in the Yzerianian Oracle priestesshood;

Qwuushi - Hobie's pilot on the Tien;

Ro and Ko - Deltan twins raised in Ling's joyhouse;

Taig - Obsta Fira's henchman;

Tziviian - pirates of the Tziviian Autonomous Zone;

Vmormi - Imk cafe owner;

Yustala - civil leader on Rovirin;

APPENDIX C: Places

Aczira - main city on Certig in the Ertig system;

Ashagedra - planet on which Hobie apprenticed himself to the shipbuilder Pholt;

Bikz - large city on Imk;

Bharselis - where Jir performs _Skolta_ to riotous acclaim, formerly a Talljet dominated planet;

Certig - unruly planet in the Tossarian Autonomous Zone;

The Dancer - a ship in Hobie's fleet;

Dhrgestera - home of Talljet Inc., Ling's joyhouse, Laninin, Ro and Ko, Ling Talljet and his empath whores;

Gvz - city on Ashagedra in which Hobie apprenticed himself to a shipbuilder;

Gyvrre - planet in the Tziviian Autonomous Zone (see Kri);

Hzabeda - a neutral planet, good for reunions;

Imk - planet in the Tziviian Autonomous Zone (see Bikz);

KaraTienKa - Admiral KzostGhet's flagship, birthplace of Tien;

Kri - large city on Gyvrre;

Lokka, now Plintes 3 - former base for the Tossarian pirates, now a Federation research station headed by Dr. Styren of the Vulcan Institute;

Magidrian - birthplanet of the Talljets;

The Maja - a ship in Hobie's fleet;

The Maria Norris - a ship in Hobie's fleet;

Milryia - city on Rovirin where the Gozshedrefreingin was building a cathedral;

Mvisivgra - formerly a Talljet dominated planet;

Olteiyva - formerly a Talljet dominated planet;

Ovtar - planet in the Tossarian Autonomous Zone;

Plintes 3, formerly Lokka - now a Federation research station headed by Dr. Styren of the Vulcan Institute, previously a base for the Tossarian pirates,;

Pholtana Shipyard in the city of Gvz on Ashagedra - where Hobie was apprenticed to Pholt and worked with Dolo-fra, Oza-Tol, Brnia, Jvria, and Doxska

Povarb - a Tossarian outpost;

Qoz - fashionable district in Bikz;

Rovirin - a Talljet outpost, where we find the Gozshedrefreingin Commune building a cathedral;

Sakchritar - Lady T'Pnov's hometown in Southern Vulcan;

Shirkar - Spock's hometown on Vulcan;

Shirkar Middle School #7 - Middle school attended by Spock, the Talljets and their circle, and later attended by the middle school aged JetCheqs.

Star Fleet Scientific Mission #86-543 - Research station on Magidrian manned by Drs. Castaris, Romsky, Duvallier, MacQuarrie, Lazroid and Wilton;

Talljet Monastery - Monastery of the Talljet order of the Romulan Church, headed by Father Polmira, that took in the orphan Hobie, Jir, Maja and Ling as young children;

The Tien - Hobie's flagship;

Tziviian Autonomous Zone - part of the Sargasso Space, a space highly conductive to the powerful telepathic energy of it's inhabitants, difficult for non native telepaths to be unshielded in for any length of time;

USS Albright - Commodore Wolfe's flagship;

USS Lexington - transported the Talljets from Magidrian to Vulcan;

Western Vulcan Preparatory Institute - also called W. Vul Prep, the best prep school in Shirkar, possibly Vulcan.

The Yaja - a ship in Hobie's fleet;

Yzreinia - Qhoshi's birthplanet;

Yzorfiraina - adopted home of Princess Malira, birthplanet of MajaKhat and Hraja baMajaKhat;

Zatichket - former base of the Tossarian pirates, planet upon which Tossar the Pirate is buried, the Tossarian Gates by Master Ghet are part of his tomb there;

Zhaharnisha - the next place the Gozshedrefreingin Commune sets up to build a garrison and a cathedral;

The Zoltir - a ship in Hobie's fleet;

Zoltir - the Talljet's birthplace on Magidrian;

APPENDIX D: Dances

Imman - Immans, as danced rarely on Vulcan, are very complex dance where the dancers hold their elbows to their sides and their forearms and hands perpendicular to their waists, fingertips touching. The taller partner leads. The lead's fingertips point downward touching the following partners upward pointing fingers. This is the only contact point. The dance is a series of intricate steps and kicks between and around each others legs while the lead guides the couple in a figure eight. Misstep or inattention often resulted in serious bruising. Its mastery was a cultural and scholastic requirement for all Vulcan teenagers, owed to its being an ancient court dance, preserved these many centuries.

Shakaar - Similar to the steps of the Imman. The hands and body are positioned differently. The lead, the taller of the pair, twists the smaller partner's hands up behind the small of their back, thus pressing the dancer's pelvic regions tightly together. It is very important for the smaller partner to look up at the lead with a properly submissive expression. Modern Klingon in origin, occasionally banned now and then for brief periods as subversive and licentious, very popular in and beyond the Empire.

Gjrigas - ancient pre-civilization Vulcan mating dance.

end of appendices

After the Rescue

by Karmen Ghia

Prologue
HOW THINGS CHANGED BETWEEN SPOCK AND McCOY AFTER THE RESCUE.

"A flare." McCoy looked at Spock and smiled.

Spock looked into McCoy's eyes as the air in the Galileo began to burn and allowed himself to rest easily in the smile there. It crossed Spock's mind that it was illogical to appear so pleased at such a desperate and futile act as the doctor had just witnessed but that McCoy's reaction was, well, actually quite pleasing on a strangely non intellectual level to the Vulcan. Pleasing and rather confusing at the same time. And this was the last thought Spock had before hearing the transporter hum and subsequently falling onto his ass on the transporter platform of the Enterprise.

* * *

Kirk marched into sickbay as McCoy was sending the last of the Galileo crew off with a clean bill of health.

"Captain," he nodded.

"Bones. How are they?"

"Aside from a few scrapes and bruises they're in the same shape they left here in."

"Except the one he lost."

"Yes, regrettable but, as far as I could tell, unavoidable."

"He says it was avoidable."

"Then I disagree with him." 'How unusual,' McCoy thought.

"Bones," Kirk said tentatively, listening, "how'd he do? Really."

"Fine. Better than most could have done under the same circumstances up until he set the fuel on fire, then he was brilliant. We should all be dead but here we are." He smiled, remembering.

"How are you?"

"Quite well, thank you; impressed down to my boots with Spock but I'm sure I'll get over it." He paused, "I woulda bet money he'd never make a creative leap like igniting the fuel supply. That kind of thinking is nowhere anywhere in his psych profile, y'know."

"Yesss," Kirk murmured, "I'm glad to have you both home again." A smile, "you look tired..."

"I am."

"... go get some rest, you can write up your report tomorrow."

"Yes, sir."

"I, however, have a very angry Federation Representative to smooth down, otherwise we're in for a quiet week ahead."

"I've heard that before so I'll believe it when I see it."

* * *

Spock gave up analysis of recent events, which, to the untrained eye, very much resembles brooding, and went to sickbay to be poked and prodded. Uncharacteristically, he was looking forward to it. He had not seen Dr. McCoy since leaving the transporter room several hours before. Tired as he was, his fatigue lifted when he entered the turbolift.

Spock, purely in the interest of scientific inquiry, wished to reproduce the reaction McCoy had produced in him in the Galileo when he'd had looked into the doctor's eyes. Spock was as intrigued as he was puzzled by his own reaction and was eager to verify it and then classify it.

'If I am to live among these humans I must understand them,' he thought. He was also curious to query McCoy on his thoughts in those few moments before the transporter beamed them to safety.

Entering sickbay he was greeted efficiently by Nurse Chapel.

"Dr. McCoy's gone to get some rest. He left instructions for your exam, if you'll step over here, please."

Spock's fatigue returned, squared.

"Dispatch will be appreciated, Nurse."

* * *

McCoy leaned under the hot shower and allowed himself to think freely about Spock. Think, in particular, about those last moments in the Galileo and how much he'd wanted to lean forward and kiss him goodbye. 'Spock, of all people, impossible, purely a stress reaction,' McCoy thought with a mental snort. 'Lord, I hope that's all it is, having a crush on Spock - that'd make the cat laugh. Or weep,' he added to himself. 'A crush? I might survive a crush, even enjoy it for a few weeks,' he thought, 'before it evaporated.'

He turned off the shower and reached for the towel next to his robe, an ancient black brocade monstrosity trimmed in jet velvet his six sisters had insisted he'd need in space. No arguing with those girls; there were too many of them.

'But this is not a crush and you know it, sir. This is a thunderbolt; a coup de foudre; a house falling on you so face it and get over it. I've always wanted to fall in love all at once,' he thought, 'but why, oh, why did it have to be with that most impossible Vulcan, of all beings?'

He sighed, toweled off, pulled on the robe and tied the wide sash. McCoy walked into his quarters wondering if he thought about Spock hard enough, if he could conjure him up out of thin air. Longing for him with that sweet ache he'd almost forgotten how to feel. 'You're very tired, you need sleep, now,' he thought, looking at his bed.

The door buzzer sounded, he called 'come,' rather annoyed at the interruption in his Spock reverie.

Spock stepped into the room and clasped his hands behind his back to steady them, otherwise the picture of composure.

"I hope you will forgive the intrusion, Doctor, but there is something I would like to discuss with you."

McCoy composed himself. "Sure, Spock, what's on your mind?" He smiled warmly.

Spock went very still, holding McCoy's gaze, and there it was: the internal reaction he sought to replicate, the same sense of pleasure and confusion, of the same intensity as before. Except now they were alone, safe and Spock began to observe other reactions in himself.

"You . . are on my mind," the Vulcan said softly, moving closer. "In the last 2.63 minutes in the Galileo, what were your thoughts, Doctor?"

"My thoughts? Why d'you ask?"

"In order to know."

McCoy lowered his eyes in thought and found himself contemplating an impressive expanse of blue clad chest impressively close to him. He looked back at Spock and decided he had nothing to lose.

"I thought you were magnificent and if I had to die just then I was glad to be dying with someone so magnificent."

Spock thought about this. "I thought my action was most illogical ..."

"It was inspired!" 'And inspirational,' he added to himself.

"... in that we would have had 8.61 more minutes in orbit.."

"But then the Enterprise would never have seen us before we burned up in re-entry and we wouldn't be having this conversation, would we?"

"Obviously."

Each regarded the other in silence.

"May I call you Leonard?"

"Yes, please." 'Please, yes.'

"I have been analyzing the events of the mission up to being transported to the Enterprise .. Leonard .. and I believe, although I have no tangible proof, that some type of mutation has occurred in our relationship."

McCoy threw caution, prudence, propriety and whatever else to the wind. "I love you," he stated flatly. 'There, I said it, now what?'

Spock inhaled (McCoy clenched his teeth) and said, calmly, "This is incomprehensible to me, however, my experience and observation of humans leads me to conclude that this action is required in response to statements of this type."

Spock leaned the small distance between them and gently pressed his lips to McCoy's. McCoy's eyes widened in surprise and then closed in pleasure while the rest of him leaned into the kiss. Spock's hands slipped around his back and pulled him close, deepening the kiss. McCoy wrapped his arms around Spock's neck and let Spock part his lips with his tongue.

'This is incredible,' thought McCoy, 'this is not the best kiss I've ever had in my life but I never want it to end.'

Spock broke the kiss. "Are you all right, Leonard?"

"Yes, why? What's wrong? Don't stop."

Spock seemed amused by this. "I sense some resistance, if I am not mistaken."

"Well, Spock, this is rather surprising, and I'm trying to maintain some, um, perspective because I've no idea where all this is going." 'Cool, analytical - that's the tack to take,' he thought passionately.

Spock gazed inscrutably into McCoy's radiant blue eyes, reached down and took McCoy's ass in both hands.He ground their erections together. McCoy bravely drew a breath. Spock then looked pointedly at McCoy's sleeping alcove.

"I hope this is going to your bed soon," Spock murmured.

"An excellent idea, let's go right now." 'Before I swoon,' McCoy thought, breathlessly.

Spock, to save time or simply because it seemed the right thing to do, picked him up and carried him to the bed. McCoy pulled off his elaborate robe and slipped under the covers. Spock sat on the edge of the bed to remove his boots.

"Will you be warm enough, Spock?" McCoy said, just to say something. He was nervous.

"Soon, I expect."

McCoy smiled and busied himself with pulling Spock's tunic and T-shirt off. He stroked the Vulcan's broad shoulders, noting the smooth texture, and down his back as Spock removed his trousers. He turned and McCoy found himself deeply impressed by Spock's powerful, elegant physique.

Suddenly shy, McCoy considered that he would soon be pulled into those arms, held close and safe to rest his head on those shoulders. Spock slipped into bed and reached for McCoy, did indeed pull him close. He ran his warm hands possessively over McCoy's back and shoulders, pressing his heated body the length of the doctor. He pressed his lips to McCoy's neck, licking and caressing, over the rounded ear, back down to McCoy's shoulder. McCoy overcame his momentary shyness and moved Spock into a long, tender kiss, running his fingers through the silky onyx hair. Spock's tongue found his, which pressed back, playfully pursuing and being pursued.

McCoy let his hand wander down to caress Spock's erection, trying not to be intimidated by the heat and size of it. He ran his fingers over the head, stroking along the ridges, stroking down and drawing the testicles into his hand, weighing them, squeezing gently. Spock sighed and drew back to gaze at McCoy. They regarded each other with desire and relief - so much had happened between them and this intimacy was its perfect culmination.

Spock rolled on his back, pulling McCoy on top of him. McCoy spread his legs on either side of Spock's hips and ground his groin into Spock's.

"Oh, Spock, you feel so good."

"As do you, Leonard."

Spock's hands closed on McCoy's ass, gently urging him forward onto his chest. He leaned forward and ran his tongue around the head of McCoy's cock, sliding it up and down, farther into his mouth. McCoy closed his eyes in pure pleasure and gave himself over to Spock's care. He jumped a bit when Spock's finger brushed against his anus. Spock gave his cock a hard suck and leaned back.

"Have you any lubricant, Leonard?" he said, caressing the velvety head with his lips.

"Uh huh." McCoy bent down to open the bedside drawer and hand Spock a small jar.

Spock swirled his tongue around McCoy's penis while he stroked between McCoy's buttocks, spreading them gently, pressing a gel coated finger ever deeper and closer to the sweet tightness he sought. Sucking McCoy deeper, Spock applied more lubricant and began to work his finger slowly and gently in.

McCoy rolled his head back, marveling at how much he was enjoying Spock's invading digit. He sighed voluptuously as Spock began to stroke his prostate, wondering just how much Spock knew about human anatomy and what use he'd make of it.

Spock slipped in another well oiled finger, thrusting gently deeper.

"Oh, yes ..." McCoy moaned, undulating gently to Spock's rhythm, forward into Spock's mouth, backward onto Spock's fingers, now three fingers.

Spock decided that McCoy was ready. He slowly withdrew his fingers, eased McCoy out of his mouth and onto the bed. He rolled on top of him and kissed the human softly.

"Leonard .. I want to be inside you, do you want that?"

"Yes, yes, but, um, I've never done this before, Spock, so ..."

"I know, I will be careful and I'll stop if you ask me," he said in a deep murmur, looking out of obsidian eyes.

Spock hugged him close and rolled McCoy onto his stomach, spreading his legs with his knees. Kneeling, Spock massaged McCoy's shoulders, easing some apprehension there. Working his way down the firm flesh, gently pressing his thumbs along the vertebrae, admiring the fragile strength and beauty of McCoy's body, the soft musk rising from his skin. He leaned down to press kisses along McCoy's shoulder and down, sure now that they were both ready, he liberally applied lubricant to his hard penis. Spock braced his hands against McCoy's hips, stroking them reassuringly, and pressed his cock against the entrance to McCoy's body. Spock paused, waiting for the tiny rebellion beneath him to subside.

"Relax, Leonard, let me in."

Spock began to press forward gently. McCoy, remembering an obscure anatomical fact from medical school, focused on relaxing while pushing his muscles against Spock's forward momentum. Spock softly rocked his hips, a little harder, a little more, a thrust and the slippery head passed the tight ring and he paused there to allow Leonard to recover. For all Spock's gentle preparation, McCoy gasped in pain and tensed.

"Are you all right, Leonard?" He saw the human nod. "Relax, I will not hurt you."

Spock reached beneath McCoy to caress his cock, gently pulling the doctor's hips into a better angle, relaxing and calming him.

Feeling that McCoy was indeed relaxing, Spock slowly slid all the way in. He stopped to let McCoy get used to the feeling of them together and to compose himself before he was overwhelmed by the snug warmth that held him so sweetly.

McCoy was adjusting, soothing himself, impaled, possessed, held fast, surrendered to Spock, his lover. Trusting Spock, loving him, shivering under Spock's hands, filled by him, overwhelmed by him, overwhelmed by desire for him, so safe with him, always, all ways.

Spock felt McCoy pressing back, urging him deeper, felt the doctor's energy shift and align with his own. He drew back and slid in again. McCoy moved in harmony with his lover. They moved together, apart, finding the rhythm of their desire. McCoy groaned with pleasure as Spock's cock stroked his prostate, again and again.

Spock increased his pace, very much in control of himself but demanding his pleasure from McCoy's body. Harder, faster, feeling McCoy's orgasm welling up in him, his muscles clenching about Spock's cock in rapture, feeling his own climax rushing upon him, crashing through him.

Spock threw his head back in a strangled shout, fighting for consciousness, he eased himself carefully down on McCoy. He leaned his forehead between McCoy's shoulders to recover, breathing hard and shaking.

McCoy was struggling with his own respiration and grateful that Spock had propped his weight on his elbows. He could feel Spock's hot semen and still hard cock in him, enjoying the connection, feeling a languid, lovely peace and contentment.

Spock roused himself and gently ran his teeth over McCoy's shoulder.

They lay dazed and spent for a moment longer. Spock's cock finally softened and he gently, slowly withdrew, stopping to wait for McCoy's muscles to release him. He pulled McCoy into his arms, kissed him tenderly and ran his fingers through his warm brown hair.

McCoy curled sweetly into Spock's arms, murmured softly and drifted off to welcome sleep.

Spock held his lover, watched him sleep for a while and dozed off himself.

* * *

Half awake, McCoy snuggled into the space Spock no longer occupied. Fully awake, he sat up and looked around. Spock sat on the bed, dressed, looking down at him.

"Spock, are you leaving? Are you cold? I can turn up the heat and get another blanket ..."

Spock silenced him with a kiss.

"I must go, Leonard, we must be discrete. Star Fleet frowns upon sexual relationships between its officers."

"They can go straight to hell."

"If that pleases you, Leonard, nevertheless I would prefer not to broadcast our relationship while we serve on the same ship."

"Of course you're right," McCoy paused in thought. "I wonder if it would upset Jim?"

"I haven't enough data to speculate." Spock almost smiled, almost fondly.

McCoy gave him an annoyed look anyway, then mellowed.

"Well, I'll think about that tomorrow, I'm too tired and too happy right now." 'Rather sore, too,' he added mentally.

Spock rose, McCoy looked up at him.

"Aren't you going to kiss me good night?"

An eyebrow ascended. "Haven't you had enough kissing for one evening?"

"Obviously not, if I want more."

McCoy favored him with one of those devastatingly mischievous smiles and held out his arms. Spock descended into them and pulled the doctor close. It was a languid sensual kiss that they broke off with difficulty, before any other nerves could get involved. McCoy whispered: "Good night, good night and when you dream tonight, dream of me."

Spock pressed a kiss to McCoy's forehead, hiding his smile.

"Sleep well, my Leonard," and left.

* * *

McCoy woke, stretched luxuriously and snuggled into the space where Spock wasn't, hunting for his scent, trying to place it. The closest he could come was the smell of line dried sheets in summer. And cedar. Linens were stored in a cedar chest between uses. Stretching voluptuously, wishing someone, anyone, would bring him a coffee, musing on the association of Spock, sex, cedar, linen, and his childhood. These activities were interrupted by his comm line.

"McCoy here."

"Spock here."

His heart jumped. "Mornin' Spock."

"Good morning, Doctor, are you well this morning?"

"Yes, quite well; you?"

"Well, thank you. Spock out."

'Well,' McCoy thought, 'that was gallant; gallant and efficient. Oh well,' he continued, 'if I want romance, I'll hafta seduce Jim. (!) Now where in the flying hell did that come from? I must get out of this bed right now.' And did so.

* * *

The day passed quickly for McCoy, for Spock, too. In their brief absence life and research continued, crew members developed symptoms, correspondence appeared to be read and answered. And for McCoy, in addition to the daily tasks, there was a report of the latest mission to write up for the captain. The latest mission with Spock - my lover. He froze. Spock. Is. My. Lover. Astonishing.

He pushed it aside and plowed into the report. While writing the narrative of events McCoy began to feel some guilt, he'd been awfully hard on Spock on the planet, maybe too hard. He continued to write in the dry style Star Fleet so required. Dry, devoid of drama and emotion, no place in this report for regret at the life lost, fear, guilt, love - just facts and necessary detail. It took time to write, his mind drifted to the way Spock's hand felt on his inner thigh, the way the skin just below Spock's shoulder tasted and further down, too, and all this took more time than he'd expected. McCoy was reading through it one last time when Spock himself walked into sickbay.

McCoy looked up, smiling. "Hullo, Spock, I've just been writing about the Galileo landing party."

Spock leaned down somewhat closer than necessary to read over McCoy's shoulder. McCoy could feel his heat, smell just the memory of this scent and dredged up the discipline not to turn and drag his tongue along Spock's fine jaw and under his splendid ear.

'I love that ear,' he thought, visualizing it, 'it's so big.'

Spock straightened and McCoy shook himself from his reverie.

"Indeed, Doctor, it is an accurate account of events."

"Why, thank you kindly, Mista Spock, ah've gotten so just lately ah can hardly tell whut ah dream and whut rilly happens," McCoy drawled sarcastically.

Spock fixed him with a piercing look and chose not to comment.

"Are you dining with the captain and me tonight?"

McCoy glanced at this chrono, surprised. "Where does time go? Yes, give me a moment, this is done," he muttered, addressing and sending his report to the captain of the Enterprise and closing his station.

He rose and followed Spock out of sickbay.

* * *

After dinner, McCoy left Spock and Kirk to play chess. He chatted with Uhura for a few moments before going to his quarters ostensibly to read, but, if he was honest, to fantasize about Spock.

* * *

"You and Bones seem to be getting along better since you've been back."

Spock looked up at his captain, contemplating a reply and a chess move. "We returned only 28.7 hours ago." He moved his bishop, "Check."

Kirk frowned at the chessboard, moved his king. "He was subdued at dinner, perhaps he's just too tired to snarl at you right now."

"Perhaps." Spock moved his rook, "Dr. McCoy is often a mystery to me."

"He can be ... challenging, but he has a heart as big as a whale." Kirk moved his castle.

Spock looked up, puzzled, "'A heart as big as a ...'?"

"It's a metaphor, Spock. You've impressed him, on the planet, in the Galileo, I think that's changed his opinion of you, his feelings toward you, perhaps he'll be more ... patient with you" 'or less,' Kirk thought, 'hard to predict with Bones.'

Spock raised his brows and nodded - Terrans expected some sort of response to everything they said - and moved his queen. "Check and mate."

CHAPTER TWO

Because hope springs eternal, McCoy had showered carefully and gotten dressed again. He'd waited for what seemed like forever, until he'd decided Spock must be in his quarters and reached for the comm line, which obligingly beeped under his hand.

"McCoy here."

"Doctor, I have just returned to my quarters..."

"I'll be right there." 'Discreet enough for you, my wild Vulcan romance?'

'Nice to be on the same wavelength with him,' McCoy thought as he strode off. McCoy paused, hopefully they were on the same wavelength, if not, he'd find out right quick.

Which he did, upon entering Spock's impressively warm quarters he was pulled into an even warmer embrace.

"Door lock" Spock mumbled and tilted McCoy's chin into a better angle for kissing. All of McCoy's trepidation vanished and he relaxed against Spock in pure bliss.

Spock broke the kiss, "Come," pulling McCoy along to his bed.

'Moves right along, don't he?' thought McCoy, grateful for the fact.

Spock removed McCoy's tunic and started to fold it, McCoy took it and dropped it on the floor - this was re-enacted with every piece of clothing until they were both naked and sliding into Spock's bed.

Spock was so gentle, like silk, he ran his warm hands over McCoy's back and clasped the mounds of this buttocks.

"You are so soft and cool, Leonard, like nothing in my previous experience," Spock murmured into his round little ear.

"You're a first for me, too, Spock."

McCoy kissed a trail down to Spock's right nipple and closed his lips over it, hard. Spock relaxed and stroked his hair. McCoy moved to the left nipple and nuzzled it as well, striving, as always, for thoroughness and moved lower. He combed his fingers through the fur on Spock's belly, admiring its silkiness. McCoy stroked into Spock's pubic hair, swirling about his erect pale green cock (fascinatin', he thought) and under his scrotum. McCoy sighed with desire as he smoothed his lips over the velvety head, slipping his tongue along the planes and ridges. It was big, he wondered how it had fit inside him last night. But it had and would, presumably, fit again.

He glanced at Spock, languidly watching him through half closed eyes and bent to his pleasant task again.

McCoy wrapped his lips around the head and dragged his tongue along the underside. He relaxed his jaw and moved as far down as he comfortably could. He let his lips and tongue explore a bit before moving back up to the head and down again and back up. He established a gentle rhythm on Spock's cock, enjoying its texture and taste, doing all the things he himself enjoyed, hoping Spock was enjoying himself, too.

Evidently. Spock groaned voluptuously and wrapped his legs around McCoy. McCoy left off sucking and nuzzled at the base of Spock's cock, bathing the areas he could not previously reach.

Spock reached down to stroke McCoy's thick hair and massage his temples, gently guiding McCoy back to the head of his cock.

"Just a little more," Spock rasped softly.

McCoy happily complied, marveling that he was so enjoying himself and he'd never even wanted to do this before. Now he never wanted to stop. And this would have been fine with Spock had he not had his own agenda.

Spock unclamped his legs and urged McCoy up to his chest. He bent down to lick his own taste off McCoy's lips and roll on top of him, spreading McCoy's legs on either side of his hips and urging them up.

McCoy, seeing where this lead, demurred: "Um... Spock, I'm still a little sore from last night..."

"You will feel no pain."

"How the hell do you know that!?" His temper flared at such presumption.

Spock paused and propped himself up on his elbows, looking into McCoy's annoyed but lovely blue eyes.

"Do you want me to stop because you do not want me to penetrate you?"

"How romantic you are in bed," a snarl.

Spock waited. McCoy sighed.

"It is my medical opinion that if you, as you say, penetrate me now it will be painful due to the penetration of the previous evening. This is the sole cause of any hesitation you have encountered, here, tonight, in this bed."

Spock looked down at him, calmly, "I assure you, Doctor, I will not hurt you when I penetrate you."

"Spock, how can you..."

"I can. Trust me; why are you here if you do not trust me?"

McCoy found this unanswerable and relaxed a bit as Spock reached for the lubricant he'd so thoughtfully put by the bed earlier. Spock knelt between McCoy's legs, pulling his hips onto his thighs, gently stroking McCoy's cock.

"I have a question, Leonard," Spock asked, conversationally.

"Umm?"

"Why do you keep lubricant next to your bed?"

McCoy frowned: "Occasionally in aid of masturbation. Why, Spock? Are you concerned about rivals for my favors?" he drawled.

Spock gently slipped a well oiled finger into the doctor, up to the first joint. McCoy started at the contact, then shivered with pleasure. Spock grinned mentally and answered: "No, not rivals prior to last night as you were certainly a virgin."

His finger progressed slowly deeper and McCoy had to split his attention between the pleasure of Spock's touch and annoyance with Spock's conversation. He tightened around Spock's finger in anger.

"A virgin! Spock...!"

"Is what you said you were, was it not?" A second finger slipped in, McCoy's muscles were losing their fight against the intrusion and relaxing in spite of him. Relaxing for Spock.

"A virgin implies a bit more to me than your literal interpretation..."

The rest of whatever McCoy was going to say was lost in a sharp intake of breath as Spock stroked McCoy's prostate and penis in the same rhythm. Semantics were abandoned for less cerebral pleasures.

Spock leaned down and kissed him sweetly, arranging McCoy's legs over his shoulders, rolling him forward. McCoy tensed, dammit, he was nervous, he ranted to himself, this was only his second time out, hell, only yesterday he was a virgin... and then he looked into Spock's hot dark eyes and his fears melted in the desire he saw there. Desire for him, Leonard McCoy, of all people.

Spock centered his cock against McCoy's tight ring, felt him wince. He raised his right hand to McCoy's face and looked deeply into his apprehensive blue eyes.

"...what are you...?" McCoy began.

"Shhh, Leonard," Spock soothed. "I am keeping my promise."

And McCoy felt all his attention move upward in his body to where Spock's hand rested on his face. At the same time he felt the pressure, the pleasure, the stretching and the fullness, but not the pain, of Spock's hot penis slipping slowly and completely into him.

Spock stopped and removed his hand from the doctor's face. McCoy's awareness cascaded down his body. He arched against Spock in pure pleasure at being filled by Spock.

Spock was still. McCoy wrapped his legs around Spock's hips, moving against him encouragingly, as best he could with Spock on top of him.

And Spock remained still. McCoy clasped Spock's shoulders, squirmed, undulated, groaned and finally rasped out between teeth clenched in lust: "Do you need orders from headquarters? Fuck me, Spock, right now, please!"

Spock regarded him coolly.

"Yes, Leonard, right away," and began to move very very slowly.

McCoy rolled his head in pleasure, yielding to Spock's pace, matching it. With each thrust and retreat the head of Spock's penis stroked McCoy's prostate. McCoy could feel his climax nearing and tried to forestall it by mentally reciting chemical compounds. Spock, sensing this, upped his tempo a little and bent to take McCoy's left nipple gently between his teeth. McCoy clung to him: "Spock, I'm going to cum if you don't stop."

"Ummm" harder thrusts.

McCoy had just time to cry out before his orgasm swept from his toes to the top of his head, clenching his ass around Spock. Cum splashed between them.

Spock cooled his pace, still hard, still moving inside McCoy, allowing him to recover from his sudden climax. He adjusted his angle to put even more pressure on McCoy's prostate and was gratified, when, with a shocked gasp, McCoy's cock sprang to attention. Spock slid all the way in, bent to McCoy's mouth and kissed him, hard, forcing his tongue between McCoy's teeth.

McCoy shuddered, moaned against Spock's tongue, his cock pressed between their bellies, slippery with his cum. And still Spock was fucking him with long, slow, powerful strokes. Fucking him like he owned him and this thought sent McCoy rushing to the edge of climax.

"Oh Spock, I'm going to cum again."

"It is desirable," and slammed into him until McCoy uttered a strangled cry, arched, clenched and came like a house afire.

Spock slid his still hard cock all the way in, resting on his elbows and cradling the shaking, shattered human in his arms.

"Leonard," he murmured into the round ear, "it is most enjoyable to feel you achieve climax during intercourse." He moved his lips to caress McCoy's temple.

"It's good for me, too, Spock," McCoy gasped and to his stunned disbelief could feel his cock stirring in response to Spock's lips on his temple, now his cheek, now his temple. Somehow the Vulcan was stroking him to hardness again without touching his cock.

'I will never be the same,' McCoy thought.

/Nor I/ came a whisper like a half heard melody inside his head. It brought McCoy to full aching hardness.

"Oh Spock, oh Spock, oh Spock," he intoned, just to say it.

Spock was moving, harder, faster, deeper. Head thrown back, eyes closed, intent on his own climax. McCoy could come along for the ride if he liked, Spock was beyond caring. But McCoy was right there, matching his pace, caught up in Spock's headlong rush.

Spock was moaning softly, the first incoherent sounds McCoy had ever heard from the usually so lucid First Officer. Spock let his head fall forward, eyes closed, panting. His thrusts became erratic and McCoy could only hold on for dear life, feeling his own climax at hand.

Spock opened his eyes and fixed McCoy with a look of such total lust that it pushed McCoy to orgasm. His cum splashed between them as Spock flung himself against McCoy, once, twice, threw his head back and came and came and came with a choked cry. He collapsed into McCoy's arms and was instantly asleep.

McCoy lay with Spock in his arms, exhausted but still tingling with pleasure. He stroked Spock's hair, his shoulders, pressed his lips to Spock's forehead and sincerely wished Spock's erection would soften enough to slip out. How could this Vulcan still be hard after all that? Enough was enough for one evening. But he was content to lay beneath him for a while longer.

Spock. Is. My. Lover. McCoy couldn't push the thought away, certainly not now, pleasantly impaled as he still was. Spockismylover. Fast or slow, it was still shocking to him.

McCoy could feel Spock's penis softening inside him and wondered if he (McCoy, not Spock) would be sore tomorrow (well, maybe Spock, too). He wondered at Spock's stamina and his own, he'd never cum like that in his life. And then he wondered just how Spock had made his penetration so painless. He knew as much as the next Star Fleet medico of Vulcan telepathic abilities but he'd never had such a practical demonstration.

Spock woke and pulled McCoy even closer. He rolled onto his back and settled McCoy on his chest, caressing as much of him as he could easily reach.

"Spock..."

"Yes?"

"Thank you. That was...amazing."

"Thank you, Leonard, it was most enjoyable for me as well." He kissed McCoy's forehead and stroked his hair.

"Spock, I've got to go home now, before I fall asleep here."

Spock's arm tightened around him. "I could wake you in a few hours," he suggested.

"Very kind, Spock, but I wouldn't sleep very well. I'm funny that way."

Spock loosened his arm and McCoy sat up, stretched and then snuggled back down into Spock's arms again.

"Five more minutes and I'll go."

Spock squeezed him for an answer and they lay together in peaceful silence.

Thirty or so minutes later McCoy made his way happily but carefully to his own quarters and hoped a shot of bourbon would be enough painkiller until morning.

* * *

Spock lay on his back feeling very relaxed, thinking about how pleasant sex was with McCoy. Even without a meld it was very pleasant. He traced the chain of events that led to this moment and concluded that an intimate relationship was not, of course, a logical outcome of the stress they'd experienced in the Galileo but it was not, however, a disagreeable outcome. In many ways it was merely one of many possible directions their relationship on the Enterprise could take, perhaps the next best step for them both. However, forty-eight hours ago the thought of sexual activity with Dr. McCoy would have disconcerted Spock. But forty-eight hours ago they had not almost died together. And since they lived, Spock reasoned, they must make the best of what was before them.

They were well matched in many other ways: both scientists, except for the occasional outburst from McCoy, they worked well together when called upon to do so, they had a healthy respect for the unknown, obviously they could put aside their differences and enjoy each other, especially sexually. They both admired Captain Kirk. Captain Kirk. The Vulcan paused, keeping his liaison secret gave Spock pause but giving it up or telling Kirk and being ordered to give it up were, at this point, not desirable options. Oh well, as McCoy was fond of saying, I'll think about that tomorrow.

Spock drowsily considered the fact that he had no urge to meld with McCoy. This was mainly because McCoy did not like it. He preferred to keep his psychic barriers intact. Truth be told, Spock preferred not to indulge in casual melding, it left him too open, too vulnerable. And it was too soon for such intensity. In some ways the doctor was as closed as Spock, only showing what parts of himself he chose to show. Spock would not intrude. He would accept whatever intimacy McCoy would give him as the precious gift it was. Besides, he wasn't missing the meld. Not yet; maybe someday but not now.

He rolled over and his last thought before he fell into contented sleep was: 'Leonard McCoy is my lover. Fascinating.'

* * *

"What would you say if I told you two members of this crew were involved in a homosexual relationship?"

McCoy regarded Kirk evenly over his glass. "Dunno. Are you likely to say that?"

It was late and they were alone in McCoy's office in sickbay, finishing up the last of Kirk's Saurian cognac.

"I'm serious about this," Kirk pulled at his glass and continued, "I don't know if I should worry or not."

McCoy shrugged mentally and decided to give up fencing. "Whom are we talking about?"

"Ensigns West and Royal."

"West? Janet West?" Interest edged out relief by a nose.

Kirk nodded.

"and Royal...?"

"Margaret Royal."

"How d'you know they're having a 'homosexual relationship'?"

"They were kissing in the botany lab."

"What were you doing in there?" Making a mental note about locking doors.

"Oh, walking the ship as is my wont and I wound up there."

"Did they see you?"

"No. So should I worry?"

"Because they didn't see you?"

"No! Because..."

"Because two lonely little girls were smooching each other behind the potted palms? No, Jim, I should say not because if you start worrying 'bout what your ensigns are doing to each other, as long as they are enjoying it, you will not have time left over to run this ship."

Kirk pouted, then did some math.

"We have 225 ensigns on board..."

"And they're likely havin' 350 love affairs between them. You can't coop up two hundred and twenty-five nineteen year olds and not strike some sparks or have you forgotten?"

"Oh no, I haven't forgotten," Kirk assured him. "But I always went for girls."

"Then you have something in common with West and Royal."

Kirk frowned. McCoy sipped patiently at his drink: "What distresses you about this, Jim?"

"Suppose they quarrel?"

"They'll have fun making up."

Kirk ignored this.

"Suppose they quarrel and it affects their morale and duty."

McCoy took a drink and poured more for both of them.

"Star Fleet spends a lot time and money instilling training and discipline into malleable young minds so that those minds never lose sight of their priority which is their duty. No one on this ship would be on this ship if they were not the best Star Fleet had to offer. So quit worryin'. I've met West, she's as level headed as everyone else 'round here." He paused. "Would this bother you as much if one of them was a man?"

"If they were in the same department, yes." Kirk smiled.

McCoy was clinically intrigued: "Does the image of lesbian sex distress or anger you on some level, Jim?"

"Well, no, it kinda excites me."

McCoy thought about this for a moment. "Well, let's leave that aside until your next psych eval. Unless we forget about it which is my recommendation."

They drank in companionable silence, Kirk parceled out the last of the bottle.

"What shall we drink to, Bones?"

"Let's drink to love, in all its infinite diversity and creativity."

"Ah, yes." Clink.

CHAPTER THREE

Perhaps they were cooling off. Perhaps not. He hadn't made love to Spock in six days and McCoy was really feeling it. 'Longing, I haven't longed for anyone like this since I was a teenager,' he mused. But soon the wait would be over, they both had a free afternoon and evening and McCoy dearly hoped to spend it horizontal with Spock.

In addition to hiking the heat up for Spock, McCoy had bathed carefully and put on his outrageous robe. Since he was fretting with waiting, he decided to pass the time writing to his sisters. He sat at his viewer, arranging the voluminous skirts around him and got as far as "Dear Girls," before Spock arrived. And a welcome distraction he was as McCoy hated writing to anyone and loved seeing Spock on his threshold.

"Oh, Spock, there you are at last," he smiled warmly.

"Indeed." Spock nodded and turned to lock the door. He was in his usual off duty, around the ship garb - black uniform T-shirt and trousers with a heavy gray sweater on top. McCoy had always thought it a frumpy outfit, now it all seemed incredibly sexy.

Turning back, Spock regarded the doctor, seated demurely at his table, with appreciation. The skirts of his robe reminded Spock of an illustration he'd once seen of a Vulcan pre-reformation court costume, most frequently worn by imperial concubines of both sexes. Pre-reform Vulcan was not a logical place but in some ways it was as, if not more, fascinating than post-reform Vulcan.

McCoy stood, uncomfortable under such scrutiny, regretting he'd worn the robe since it was so flamboyant.

"I find this gown visually pleasing on you, Leonard." Moving close and circling around behind him.

"Oh? Don't you think it's a bit much for a simple, unvarnished type such as myself?"

"No." Spock nuzzled his neck and slipped his arms around McCoy's waist, running his hands over his chest and hips.

McCoy smiled and nestled back into Spock's embrace. If Spock wanted to pay him compliments he'd just have to suffer through it with as much grace as possible.

"Leonard," Spock stepped back abruptly, "the Captain asked me what you and I were going to do this afternoon."

McCoy turned. "And what did you say?" Intrigued.

"I said we planned to discuss the prostaglandin system of the organisms we sampled on Kappa 7-12."

"That won't take long, Spock, those organisms don't have a prostaglandin system." He looked at his lover, "However, the lack of one is rather interesting." They sat to discuss it.

"Feel better?" McCoy asked ten minutes later.

"I do not feel anything, Doctor, I do, however, find it a fascinating subject," Spock commented dryly.

"Yes, but that's enough of it for now, dontcha think?" Smile.

Spock nodded, McCoy stood up from the table. Still seated, Spock caught his hand and drew him close, looking up at him, eyes unreadable. The skirts of McCoy's robe rustled intimately against Spock's knees. Spock took hold of McCoy's waist and moved his hips against the table, then lifted McCoy onto the table and spread his knees apart. McCoy was surprised and aroused but still modestly clad in his flowing robe. Spock tugged the sash loose and smoothed his warm hands over McCoy's chest. He pinched the hot, hard nipples as he found them, easing him into a reclining position on the table while continuing his explorations.

McCoy's erection was becoming obvious beneath the brocade. Spock moved only enough silk to explore McCoy's trembling rosy cock.

"Lie back, Leonard," he purred, drawing his finger along the bottom of McCoy's penis, kissing the head lightly.

McCoy sighed with pleasure and lay back in perfect bliss.

Spock laid his head on a silk clad thigh and caressed the base of McCoy's arousal with his tongue, nuzzling into the soft brown pubic hair. His hand massaged McCoy's thighs and groin while he played his lips and tongue over McCoy's hardness.

'It's wonderful,' thought McCoy, relaxing under Spock's hands. "Oh," he gasped as Spock's tongue circled the head of his cock.

Spock was enthralled by the taste and texture of McCoy's cock. Also by the reactions he could provoke through various actions. For example: sliding his tongue from the helmet to the base caused sighs of pleasure. However, sliding his teeth at the same velocity and pressure caused McCoy to flinch away from him. On the other hand, enclosing the head in his mouth and allowing his teeth to close gently beneath the flared bottom while sucking very hard caused writhing, accompanied by low moaning. Spock was deeply intrigued. He leaned back to examine the object of his oral attentions. Examine and caress with one warm hand, fondling his testicles with the other. In a new found appreciation for such things, Spock concluded that McCoy's cock was lovely. Perfectly proportioned to his body, smooth, rosy skin, slightly darker at the elegant head, and best of all, it fit perfectly down Spock's throat.

McCoy gasped as his cock was suddenly swallowed and massaged by Spock's powerful tongue and throat muscles. Fleetingly, he thought Spock's soft palate had a better grip than his own right hand. Then Spock did an incredible thing and McCoy thought he'd die of pleasure. Spock began to purr.

"Oh...oh," the vibration against his head, the lovely suction, the sight of Spock so intent with Spock-like intensity.

"Spock! I'm going to cum," urgently, conflicted between wanting to cum and wanting to continue.

Spock perceptively sensed the doctor's conflict and made the decision for him. He changed his purr to a growl and began to move maddeningly up and down on McCoy's cock. McCoy writhed beneath his mouth, doubly so when Spock's powerful tongue stroked the nerves under the helmet with each upward sweep. It was effective. Spock tasted sweet, salty drops on his tongue and McCoy began to make sounds Spock identified as orgasmic.

Spock increased his pace until he felt McCoy thrusting helplessly up and cry out. Spock forced the spewing cock down his throat and swallowed and swallowed until McCoy was empty, panting and limp. Slowly, teasingly he pulled his mouth off McCoy, gently sucking, still playing his tongue over the now flaccid organ, making McCoy moan and sigh.

Spock sat back for a moment, simply contemplating his satiated lover. Feeling the gaze, McCoy opened his dilated blue eyes and fixed Spock with a look of pure sexual euphoria and...the same look that had so pleased and confused the Vulcan on the Galileo was there again. The combination was devastating to Spock but he quickly mastered himself. Rising, carefully closing the robe and retying the sash, he picked up the pliant McCoy and carried him to he bed.

"You're always carrying me around my cabin," McCoy murmured vaguely.

"Does it displease you?"

"No, I like it, makes me feel ..."

"What?"

"...yours."

Spock held him a little tighter and had no words. He laid him gently on the bed and sat next to him.

McCoy cuddled up and whispered: "You're wearin' too much clothing, Spock. Get rid of it. I turned up the heat so you won't freeze."

"Most thoughtful of you, Leonard."

"Logical, too, dontcha think? Erectile tissues in mammals respond poorly to cold temperatures and this situation cries out for hard, happy, erect tissues, correct?"

Spock raised his brows and nodded, rather impressed. He pulled off his sweater, folded it and laid it neatly on the chest of drawers. McCoy leaned back patiently to watch Spock's methodical striptease, rest and gather strength for the next course. He smiled, admiring the powerfully beautiful body efficiently being revealed.

"Yes, very logical, Leonard, well done."

"All for you, Spock."

Spock looked down at him, cock rising.

"Yes. All for me."

He lay down and pulled an amused human into his arms.

"Yes, Spock. All for you," McCoy murmured between kisses.

Spock rolled on top of him and rubbed sensuously against the brocade and McCoy's renewing erection under it.

"Let me take this off...," McCoy began.

"Not yet," Spock commanded.

That low, imperative voice sent a shiver of pleasure through McCoy.

Spock held him close and looked into his eyes.

"What are you thinking, Leonard?"

'How come I don't fuck you?' he thought, but said: "How much I'm enjoying this."

Spock kissed him, softly: "Perhaps we might do something new this afternoon."

"Like what?" McCoy was thinking: 'bondage? SM? I'm practically in drag, so we've done that.'

Spock rolled onto his back and seated McCoy over his hips, tugging open the robe and arranging the skirts over his legs. McCoy thought that was a bit odd but, oh well, and he reached down to stroke them together. Spock reached for the lubricant, silent and intent.

McCoy continued his massage as Spock moved his hands around behind and under him, he felt Spock slip his middle finger inside him. McCoy squirmed a bit as Spock's second finger joined the first.

Spock squeezed some lubricant onto the doctor's hands. McCoy smoothed the gel on both cocks while Spock reached under the human's hips and maneuvered his anus over the head of his very hard, slippery cock and waited. McCoy braced his hand on his thighs as he felt Spock slowly withdrawing his support.

McCoy let himself sink down a little, felt uncomfortable and moved back up. Spock merely watched him as he stroked McCoy's cock teasingly.

'This really is up to me, isn't it?' McCoy thought and descended again. This time he consciously relaxed all his muscles and pushed against Spock's penis. It was a bit of a struggle but the head suddenly popped inside.

McCoy gasped in surprise and discomfort and would have pulled off had not Spock's strong hand on his hips held him still, soothing him, supporting him.

McCoy was panting, adjusting, stretching. He looked into Spock's dark eyes, watching him, and saw the demanding message there: pleasure me. McCoy, thrilled, let his eyes half close and thought, 'so, I will.'

Spock returned his hands to McCoy's penis as McCoy slowly sank down upon the full length of the Vulcan cock. McCoy took his time, and once fully impaled, ground down and around a bit, just to see what effect this would have on the already flushed and panting Vulcan. It caused Spock to grab McCoy's hips and thrust helplessly up into him.

"Steady, Spock," McCoy murmured, moving Spock's hot hands back to his erection.

McCoy paused, visualized some anatomy and clenched his muscles in an upward sweep around Spock's penis. Spock's eyes widened in lasciviousness and his chest began to rise higher.

McCoy was stroking the Vulcan frantic while barely moving. Spock tried to thrust up once or twice but gravity and the doctor were against him. He finally just lay back and let pleasure wash over him.

McCoy began to move in slow ovals, sliding infinitesimally upward as he did. He felt very powerful as his every motion sent a shiver of pleasure through the fevered, trembling body beneath him.

McCoy increased his range, sliding a little further up the Vulcan cock and down again. Spock thrust gently up to meet him as he descended and McCoy, very generously, allowed him to do so.

McCoy leaned back to change his angle slightly and gasped as he slid Spock's hard penis across his own prostate. He had been hard but now he was rock hard and enjoyed it so much, he did it again and again, faster and faster.

This was fine with Spock, who was very ready to cum and waiting for McCoy out of good manners. He thrust up to meet him, matching his pace, stroking his slippery cock, enjoying the frantic rustle of the silk accompanying their building climax.

McCoy was gasping for breath, head thrown back, flinging himself down the full length of Spock's hardness with wild abandon. Every stroke brought him a little closer to the sweet oblivion he so desperately sought. It was all he wanted, would have killed for it.

At just that moment, however, Spock grabbed his hips and forced him all the way down on his cock and held him there.

McCoy howled and squirmed like a wild thing: "No! Spock! Lemme go!"

Spock growled low in this throat and came as McCoy's struggles pushed him over the edge.

Feeling Spock pumping into him, feeling his own cock pressed hard against Spock's belly, giving one last twist of rebellion against the masterful hands, McCoy pushed all the air out of his lungs and exploded onto the Vulcan. Shuddering with release, he fell forward into Spock's strong arms. He lay his head on Spock's shoulder, trying to catch his breath while Spock stroked his silk covered back, soothing him.

"Now can I take off this damn robe?"

"Now, Leonard, you may do anything you wish."

* * *

They showered together and it was pleasant even though Enterprise showers were designed with one occupant in mind. Of necessity, they were all over each other but that was what made it ... pleasant.

"Wouldn't we be happier having a snack here instead of dining with Jim, in public?" McCoy asked reasonably as he dressed.

"I would not know, Leonard," Spock said, pulling his gray sweater over his head. "The Captain asked us to dine tonight and we have no acceptable reason to refuse."

"True; we're flush out of prostaglandins."

"I beg your pardon?"

"Yes, Spock, you're right, it will be wonderful."

'And,' McCoy added to himself, 'I will do my level best not to think about how much I want to slide under the table and suck your cock in front of god and everybody.'

Spock regarded him, almost fondly: "We can, of course, return here or to my quarters after dinner," he ventured.

"Oh? Good! So there is something to look forward to." McCoy zipped his boots up, looked up. "And if he asks you to play chess, what then?"

"Then I will meet you here or in my quarters after I have played chess with Captain Kirk."

McCoy knew that tone, there was no arguing with it, so he didn't. He stood, obedient, acquiesced, resigned, and, now that he was all those things, found himself looking forward to a cozy dinner with the captain and his lover (the first officer), Spock (his lover); with Jim and Spock.

'I can do this, I know I can do this,' McCoy thought, 'I'll be fine once I get outta this overheated room and the cold air in the corridor hits me. Inhale. Exhale.'

He looked at Spock, who was studying him with scientific detachment and felt reassured by his gaze. Reassured, comforted and ready for anything right up until the door buzzed.

Spock's gaze flew over McCoy's left shoulder to the thrashed bed and the black robe sprawled lasciviously in the middle of the wreckage and back to McCoy, who was wondering if they could just not answer and decided, no, that would be unwise, and called "come."

Kirk strode in, smiling, looking hungry: "Gentlemen," he nodded. "I'm starving. Are you ready?"

Spock was nonplused.

"As we'll ever be," McCoy smiled fondly at his old friend and dearly hoped his new lover would snap out of it pretty damn quick.

"Yes, we are ready," Spock rumbled, coming to life and moving toward the door.

"Why is it so hot in here?" Kirk queried, looking around.

"Feelin' a mite cold, Jim," McCoy volleyed back.

Kirk glanced over McCoy's right shoulder and caught sight of the unmade bed. (Spock returned to stone.) He gave the doctor a stern look: "Bones, what a slob you are," he admonished.

McCoy gazed mildly back at him: "It's my day off, 'mother'."

"Even so ..." Kirk trailed off, clucking his tongue, leading them out of McCoy's quarters and off to a very pleasant dinner indeed.

CHAPTER FOUR

It transpired that evening that Kirk did not ask Spock to play chess, preferring to catch up on his reading instead.

Spock and McCoy walked him to his quarters and proceeded the short distance to Spock's quarters. Where, once inside, they flung themselves on each other like crazed tribbles.

McCoy leaned back in Spock's arms, laughing as Spock muttered "door lock" with some urgency.

"What amuses you, Doctor?" Squeezing him.

"Our performance for Jim. It's so easy to behave as if there is nothing between us and then you touch me and I'm almost overwhelmed by what is between us."

Spock clasped McCoy's ass in both hands and pulled him against the rising Vulcan cock: "Would what is now between us be an example of that which you speak," he intoned dryly, then added, "Leonard," warmly.

McCoy nestled into Spock's arms and allowed himself to feel secure and loved, even though he knew the latter was rather farfetched, but, oh well.

Sensing McCoy's mood, Spock damped down his urgency and gentled his embrace.

McCoy turned his head to press his lips to Spock's. Being almost as tall as Spock, he didn't have to go too far to get to his lips. 'And wonderful lips they are,' thought McCoy, 'soft, warm, gentle.'

Spock leaned back, looking as serious as a heart attack: "Fibroblasts."

"What of them?" McCoy hissed pulling him back into the kiss.

Spock leaned back again a moment later: "Fibroblasts are what we discussed, after dinner, this evening, in my quarters."

"They are" kiss, nip, "one of," nuzzle, "my favorite," kiss, thrust, "subjects."

They devoured each other for a few more moments and moved to the bed.

McCoy yanked off all this clothes and went for Spock's. He was restrained and inserted into Spock's bed with a mild "Patience, Leonard, I will be with you in 43.2 standard seconds." McCoy wiggled in impatience, nevertheless, muttering, "Hurry up."

Spock slid beside him, embraced him and it was wonderful.

"Spock, I have a question?"

"Yes, Leonard?"

"How come I never get to penetrate, as you say, you?"

Spock paused before answering. "Do you want to .. penetrate me?"

"Yes."

"Now?"

"Well, sometime in the course of this evening, yes."

Spock was silent, mulling it over.

"Why do you hesitate?" McCoy asked coolly.

"Because I have never been penetrated before."

"Oh, so, you're a virgin. Well; I'll be gentle."

"I have no doubt, Leonard," Spock laid back and spread his legs.

McCoy, no fool he, settled himself between Spock's thighs and reached for the lubricant Spock kept by the bed.

Spock tensed, imperceptibly. 'Very direct,' he thought, impressed.

So Spock was rather puzzled when McCoy merely laid the container on the bed next to them and bent to give him a long, warm kiss. Spock ran his hands over McCoy's back and shoulders, relaxing into the kiss as McCoy had hoped he would.

"There, Spock; relax. I won't hurt you." 'As if I could,' he thought.

Spock looked into the mild blue eyes and gave himself over to McCoy.

McCoy, more perceptive than he let on, felt the subtle energy shift and was, himself, reassured. He dragged his tongue down to Spock's nipples and around, pausing to suck on them a bit, just to warm his lips up, then caressed his way to Spock's arching cock. He paused to smooth his fingers through the jetty pubic thatch, breathing softly against the base and scrotum.

Spock was very aroused, very trusting and shivered with pleasure as McCoy's mouth closed over the head of his penis.

'It is a wonderful mouth,' Spock thought, 'firm, soft lips, gentle teeth, clever tongue..oh...'

McCoy played with the head, sucking it, licking it, paying special attention to the band of nerves he discovered under the nicely flared helmet. He reached for the lubricant and applied some to his right fingers, never pausing in his oral ministrations, working his left hand up and under Spock, began easing his slippery middle finger into the Vulcan.

Spock's eyes flew open and with some difficulty resisted the urge to flee so personal (but exciting!) an invasion. Reminding himself what they were about (not to mention that it was a pleasant sensation once he was more used to it), made himself relax. So much so, that McCoy felt encouraged to slip in a second finger, pumping them gently in and out.

Vulcan anatomy was still a sketchy subject in Star Fleet medicine so McCoy didn't know if he would find what he was looking for. He was, therefore, very gratified to hear Spock gasp with pleasure as he rubbed his fingertips over the hard place behind the base of Spock's penis.

'Oh, good,' he thought, 'I've discovered the Vulcan love button. What a shame I can't publish and have it named after me.'

Interesting as this train of thought was, McCoy felt that Spock was as ready to be fucked as McCoy was ready to fuck him.

"Roll over, Spock, please," McCoy whispered, politely, reaching for a pillow to support Spock's hips. He carefully arranged Spock's hips and legs, gently massaged Spock's hard buttocks, spreading them, relaxing them.

McCoy lubed up and moved forward to center his cock against the tight ring of Vulcan flesh.

Spock tensed reflexively but McCoy had gravity and viscosity on his side and after a few seconds of coaxing and insistence succeeded in slipping the head in. And was suddenly in serious discomfort, having underestimated Vulcan reflexive muscle strength - his cock was held in a hot noose and could neither move forward nor pull out.

"Spock, for god's sake, relax!" McCoy grated out between clenched teeth. 'Before I faint,' he added to himself.

Spock, now over the initial shock of his first penetration, mastered himself and complied with McCoy's wishes.

"My apologies, Leonard, are you all right?" Obligingly arching his ass to facilitate McCoy's cock slowly sliding all the way in.

"Yes," McCoy panting, paused, resting his groin against Spock's ass. "But you are not, I repeat, not to cum while I'm inside you."

"Understood."

McCoy wondered if there was a note of petulance in that, felt bad for a moment and then decided to cheer up. Having caught his breath, he adjusted his knees and began cheerfully fucking the snug Vulcan ass beneath him. He stroked gently at first, finding a rhythm they both enjoyed, speeding up and cooling off as it pleased him.

Spock was also enjoying himself although it was increasingly difficult to forestall his climax, Vulcan control notwithstanding, especially as McCoy's penis stroked his prostate with every thrust. Thrusts that were now coming faster and harder.

"Leonard, ...I fear I will be unable to..." he began, panting.

"Shhhh," McCoy gasped savagely as he slammed into him, on the very edge of climax ... and then over, his cock jerking inside the Vulcan.

Spock, feeling McCoy's cock pulsing inside him, dug his fingers into the bed in effort but could not stop the climax that welled up and over him. He clenched and McCoy jumped in surprise but not pain and then sank down onto Spock's back.

They lay together, catching their breath. After a moment, McCoy leaned forward: "I thought I told you not to cum," he teased.

"I am sorry to disappoint you, Leonard."

"I am hardly" he pulled out, "disappointed, Spock," and then pulled the otherwise limp Vulcan into his arms. As usual, Spock's penis was still hard.

"Why does it stay hard after you cum?"

"Progeny are crucial to Vulcans therefore we have evolved in ways that ensure conception."

McCoy was silent for a moment: "So that you can have multiple ejaculations and still stay hard forever."

"Precisely."

"Fascinating."

* * *

It was a very pleasant routine they'd established over the intervening months, McCoy thought, stone cold sober, waiting for Spock on their afternoon. Once their passion settled down a bit, they spent, duty allowing, the afternoon and ensuing night of their free day together. Ostensibly, they discussed whatever was happening in the science labs, and they did, briefly, discuss such subjects, but mostly they made love - at various speeds and intensities and durations, McCoy added to himself.

Sex was wonderful with Spock, more sex with him would have been oppressive, less sex, like starving.

Neither knew if they were good lovers, nor did they care - they pleased each other and only cared about that.

McCoy had once made a thumbnail survey of the ratio of fucking Spock to being fucked by Spock. It turned out that every one in five encounters McCoy was the active partner, he didn't count the times when he got to be on top, only those when he penetrated the Vulcan.

He'd concluded that this was no bad thang (he liked Spock inside him) due to the strange fact that when they joined, from the first moment of physical contact, they were so in tune with each other that everything was perfect. It was wonderful.

Except when McCoy had had too much to drink. He smiled ruefully, remembering the first time he'd had one too many brandies while waiting for Spock. It was not wonderful, Spock was annoyed and let it show. He finally placed his hands on the side of McCoy's face and McCoy felt his happy brandy haze whirling up and up and out of the top of his head and away. Leaving him Stone. Cold. Sober.

"Spock! What a waste of good liquor," McCoy gritted as Spock dragged him to his own bed.

"I prefer not to have sex with you when you are incapacitated."

"I wasn't incapacitated. I was just ... very mellow." He sulked.

Spock had lost interest in conversation, being intent on undressing them both. McCoy gave up sulking and gave in, helping Spock off with his clothes and slipping docilely into bed, still soft but eager to have that be changed.

'I'll be passive,' McCoy thought, 'he'll like that.'

McCoy was then somewhat shocked when Spock immediately reached for the lubricant and crouched between his legs.

"Spock..." McCoy began tentatively, trying to think of a way to slow the Vulcan down.

Spock glanced up from sliding one, two then three fingers into McCoy in quick and efficient succession. He'd, however, made a point of giving McCoy's prostate a quick, hard massage in the process and felt vindicated when McCoy's cock sprang to full hardness, as expected.

"Nothing," McCoy hissed, going from tentative to hysterically aroused in a nanosecond.

Spock arranged McCoy's legs around his waist, rolled him back and centered his slippery cock at the entrance of McCoy's body. He waited, eyes hooded, to feel McCoy open to him.

McCoy gathered himself, relaxed and eased up ever so slightly against his lover's hardness. Spock looked at him as he pushed the head gently past the tight ring of flesh and stopped there, waiting for McCoy to adjust to their joining. Once he felt the tiny rebellion that always accompanied the first moments of this act subside in McCoy, Spock slid in, hit bottom and proceeded to leisurely fuck McCoy silly.

Spock idly noted that McCoy was, in fact, enjoying it but really didn't care. He was musing on McCoy's intoxication. It annoyed him because it so dulled McCoy's minimal telepathic abilities as to make satisfactory consummation impossible. He was still rather annoyed but sufficiently aroused to overlook it - this time.

Spock was getting close, his strokes were longer and harder, he could feel McCoy moving with him toward climax. He slid all the way in and gathered McCoy into his arms, held him close, soothing them both.

'Too soon,' Spock thought, pumping just enough to stay hard.

'I'm going to swoon from this pleasure,' McCoy thought, rubbing his cock against Spock's warm, furry belly.

Spock kissed his neck and under his tender ear, sucking gently on the soft lobe.

McCoy sighed, lay back passively and hoped Spock didn't mind. He felt Spock's teeth closing on his ear lobe and decided that, yes, Spock did mind and roused himself. He tightened his arms around Spock's neck and pulled him into a warm kiss (thus saving his ear lobe) and gently bucked his hips against Spock, who left him very little room to maneuver. He broke the kiss: "Fuck me, Spock," he whispered, sultry, urgent. "Please fuck me."

Spock mentally smiled very smugly and obeyed his lover with great thoroughness. His thrusts became harder, longer as he and McCoy rose together toward orgasm. For a few confusing seconds each held back to wait for the other to come first. Spock made the decision for McCoy by slamming into him twice, hard, and thus shoved McCoy over the edge into wild bliss. Feeling McCoy's cum splash between them and his ass clenching around him, Spock flung himself on his lover and let go a flood of hot semen, his cock jerking and pulsing inside the writhing, panting human.

He looked down at McCoy, who looked back at him with cloyed blue eyes.

McCoy slid his hands seductively up Spock's arms and shoulders to urge him down, into his arms.

Spock, however, stayed where he was, looming above him, chest moving, eyes inscrutable.

'Well, then be stubborn, Vulcan,' McCoy thought, flopping back, going limp as a rag doll.

After a moment, Spock, still hard, started to move again inside him. McCoy looked up at him, shocked and somewhat alarmed.

"It is always an option, Leonard," Spock rumbled, fucking a bit harder.

McCoy was enthralled but unfortunately exhausted from his own orgasm.

Spock did not seem to care, intent on his own pleasure, but McCoy roused himself a little to participate, if only to remind Spock that Spock was on a first name basis with the man beneath him.

Spock, sensing this, slowed a little and leaned down to kiss McCoy, lingering, intuiting and deciding. Deciding he'd take care of the doctor's pleasure later because he was aching hard and McCoy was just too far behind to catch up.

Alas, Spock thought, I will make it up to him ... later, and gave up thought. He leaned back and pounded into McCoy's unresisting body until he came with an animal-like cry. This time he did fall into McCoy's arms, spent and panting.

McCoy held his trembling lover tight and murmured soothing sounds. Emotionally, McCoy was a very compassionate creature and could feel great tenderness for Spock, even in those moments when Spock displayed his single mindedness for his own pleasure and total disregard for the doctor's.

'Oh well,' McCoy thought, massaging Spock's shoulders, 'doesn't happen very often and he's so beautiful when he comes - ummm- 'spose I'll hafta let him live.'

Spock shook himself a little and pulled out. He continued to lay on top of McCoy for the warmth and because he was wiped out.

'In a minute, I will get up,' he thought, falling into a profound doze.

'Well, at least he doesn't snore,' thought McCoy, wide awake, well fucked, one climax short and Stone. Cold. Sober.

As sober as he was at present, remembering that afternoon with much pleasure.

The second time Spock had found his lover two and three quarter sheets to the wind was a less pleasant encounter.

Assessing the situation, irritated, he had simply undressed McCoy, put him to bed, bid the doctor a testy good afternoon, and left. McCoy had been deeply annoyed.

"I'm not that smashed," he snarled to the room in general, dozing off over his revenge plans.

(Spock's thought are unknown. He barricaded himself in his lab and was not seen until dinner.)

* * *

McCoy sat down to dine that same evening, the very picture of health, vitality and sobriety. Even Kirk commented on how well he was looking.

McCoy had awoken earlier that afternoon with resolve to salvage what was left of his day with Spock. He marched into sickbay and whipped up a hypospray of palliandexatrine and mzeobenzadrine derivatives, added a splash of niacin and ascorbic acid. This fabulous concoction he'd discovered in med school - the stimulants got you through whatever and the vitamins fixed you up when you crashed. It was wonderful. The whatever McCoy had to get through today was a grueling flat out ten kilometer run on the gym track that would drive all the liquor (as well as the speed and any other lurking toxins) thoroughly out of his system.

McCoy hated exercise and he allowed his hyper brain to contemplate this as he rounded the track for the nth (he thought) time. The only exercise he could tolerate was running because it was mindless and over quickly. McCoy was glad to be alone on the track, he knew he was not a pretty sight - sweaty, gasping but feeling absolutely no pain whatsoever.

McCoy hit the 10 kilometer mark, circled once more, just for luck and proceed to scald himself under a hot shower until the vitamins kicked in, which they obligingly did. He returned to sickbay where he dosed himself with terran B complex and borian herbs, drank two liters of water and, just to be thorough, gave himself a high colonic. After a short nap and a bracing cold shower he felt purified, inside and out.

Blue eyes sparkling, skin glowing, in excellent spirits, McCoy made his way to dinner and was devastatingly charming to everyone.

"I'm pleased to see you in such a good mood, Bones," Kirk smiled at him. "I've been worried that you're working too hard. You and Spock are working too hard," he added, munching his salad.

"I love my work, Jim," McCoy glanced at Spock, "I find it fascinating, compelling, exciting..."

"I'm glad to hear it," Kirk interposed, "I want you to be happy."

"But I am happy, very happy," McCoy asserted.

"Well ... good!" Kirk laughed, charmed.

Spock pushed his plate away: "A game of chess, Captain?"

CHAPTER FIVE

"'A game of chess, Captain?'!" he snarled when the Vulcan came to parade rest before him in McCoy's cabin eighty-seven point six standard minutes later.

"Indeed, Leonard, chess with the Captain after dinner is the usual custom on such evenings or is there something unusual about this evening that I have failed to notice?" He gazed calmly into McCoy's angry blue eyes, waiting for them to soften. They did not.

McCoy drew a breath: "I went to a great deal of trouble this afternoon to sober up for you..." he began savagely.

"And I am here to enjoy the fruits of your labors, if" Spock cut in smoothly, "Doctor, you are still so inclined," watching him.

McCoy weighted his potential pleasure against his current indignation and decided to bet on the future. He dropped his eyes and pouted. No response ('of course not,' he thought). He let his lips draw naturally into a wry smile and looked up at Spock with warm, frank, come hither eyes.

Spock was pleased to see that his lover promised to be reasonable and went hither to draw the human into his arms.

McCoy nestled into them with relief and allowed the peace and security (and love? nah) he felt in Spock's arms wash over him. He could feel the Vulcan's cock rising against him so he allowed some erotic feelings to wash over him, too.

"I am ... pleased to be here tonight, Leonard," Spock murmured, "were you not so ... radiant at dinner I would have found another occupation for this evening."

McCoy gave him a searching look: "Really?" he asked seriously.

"Really," Spock answered seriously.

McCoy nodded, thinking, 'well, now I know where that boundary is.' He sighed and gently rubbed his crotch against Spock's, changing the subject.

Spock was encouraged and aroused by this simple action and impatient with preliminaries. He'd very much missed his afternoon of lovemaking and was feeling its lack.

Spock turned to kiss McCoy in a way that communicated to the doctor that he wanted no mischief this evening; snuffing out McCoy's micro-rebellion with a hand on his ass and his tongue forcing McCoy's mouth open.

'Impressive,' McCoy thought, giving in, snuggling submissively in Spock's strong arms. 'Okay okay, Spock, I read you loud and clear, you are in charge tonight and I am all yours.'

/Yes, all mine/ McCoy thought he heard somewhere inside his head but it was the aural equivalent of catching a glimpse of something out of the corner of his eye. Disconcerting but not dreadful.

Spock came to some decision and guided McCoy to the bed but did not move to undress him, simply looked into his eyes. He then dropped a pillow on the deck between them and fixed McCoy with a compelling gaze, waiting.

McCoy looked down and hesitated, thinking, 'if I do this, then what? if I don't do this, then what?'

Spock waited, suspended until McCoy made his own decision.

McCoy sank to his knees before Spock and looked up at him with polite interest, hoping it was cover enough for his trepidation.

Spock seated himself on the edge of the bed and opened his trousers, spreading his knees apart for McCoy to move between them. 'If he will,' Spock thought.

He did. McCoy was beginning to feel strangely excited by all this. He moved Spock's hands away, drawing Spock's rigid cock out and bent to run his lips over the silky head. He draped his tongue over the tip and slid it seductively along the flared ridges. Spock ran his fingers through McCoy's thick brown hair and sighed with pleasure. The pleasure of his lover's tongue on his cock and the pleasure of having so thoroughly made his point. It was indubitably established that he was in charge of the evening's activities ... (oh) ... and now it was time to move on ... (oh!) ... move on, in a few moments ....

With some effort he pulled McCoy off his cock and undressed him quickly, then undressed himself even more quickly. Spock lay full length on the doctor, kissing him languidly, tasting himself on McCoy's lips. He leaned back for a breath: "How pleasant this is, Leonard," he almost sighed.

"Uh huh," sultry, softly, spreading his legs, wrapping them around Spock's waist, reaching up for another kiss.

With gentle pushes and shoves, McCoy maneuvered them into a sixty-nine and again gave his full attention to the Vulcan's cock.

McCoy liked this position because it felt so egalitarian. Spock enjoyed it for its symmetry and the heightened telepathic energy that accompanied such symmetry. He also enjoyed driving McCoy wild and feeling it translated onto his own cock.

'Ah, the simple joys,' he thought, swallowing the doctor's hard rosy shaft.

McCoy was beyond thought, his whole being consumed by the erotic pleasure he was giving as well as receiving. He nuzzled at the base of Spock's cock, sucked on his testicles, one at a time (they were big), and returned to swirl his tongue around the head and down the sides.

Spock had moved down to inhale McCoy's balls and roll them around in his mouth for a while. From this unique vantage he could appreciate just how thoroughly McCoy had purified himself for the Vulcan. Gently spreading the doctor's cheeks, Spock lightly caressed the center of McCoy's body with his fingertips.

McCoy sighed around the hard flesh and his lips stroked the shaft in response.

Encouraged, Spock let McCoy's scrotum slip slowly from his jaws and his tongue behind it, then down to circle the tight opening.

McCoy sucked in a surprised breath and a millimeter or so more of Spock and froze in the headlights of this new sensation.

Undeterred, Spock continued his explorations. 'If he really does not enjoy this sensation,' Spock thought, probing the opening with the tip of his tongue. 'He will tell me to stop,' he reasoned. For an answer, McCoy moaned softy and Spock felt his balls twitch beneath his chin.

'Ah,' Spock thought, probing deeper, thrusting as much of his hard, wet tongue into McCoy as he could.

McCoy gripped Spock's hips in helpless, shocked bliss. This was like nothing he ever thought of, let alone experienced and he was in a rush of sensation, suddenly on the edge of climax.

"thploulk," he whimpered around the hard flesh down his throat.

The Vulcan reluctantly returned to sucking McCoy's balls, or rather, he held them firmly in his mouth and pulled them away from McCoy's body to forestall the doctor's orgasm. McCoy winced gratefully as he felt his climax recede to manageable proportions. Spock was really hard, he noted, but obviously not ready for either of them to cum. He shivered in the ghost of the sensation of Spock's probing tongue and relaxed, waiting.

Spock was thinking, he let the calmed sack slip from his lips again and ran his tongue around the base of McCoy's cock. Still considering, he swirled his tongue up and along the hard, smooth sides and around the curvaceous head, tasting the sweet salty drops that were the evidence of McCoy's impetuosity.

The first thing he decided was to not tease McCoy for very much longer and how he wished to accomplish this. Spock planted a kiss on the tip of McCoy's cock and murmured: "Leonard, lie on your stomach, please," reaching for the lubricant.

McCoy complied, as always, thrilled to his core by that deep, imperative voice when it was made hoarse by desire; for him.

Spock knelt between McCoy's thighs and pulled the doctor's groin onto his lap, holding him securely so his genitals would not be rubbed provocatively.

Spock considered the necessity, and, deciding it was, slipped a little lubricant inside McCoy, who nearly broke Spock's fingers by flinging himself back onto them. Rather impressed, Spock quickly lubed his own cock and pulled a surprised McCoy upright, his anus over the head of the Vulcan's cock and held the doctor suspended securely there, waiting for a sign to continue.

McCoy wasn't sure about this - it was new and felt awkward but ... oh well. He relaxed down in Spock's arms, against Spock's cockhead which obligingly slipped in. McCoy paused to adjust. Spock, always a gentleman in these matters, supported his weight while he did, and, once recovered, sank to the root in one fluid motion. Spock exhaled in a rush and had to summon every once of control he possessed not to cum in that instant. He held McCoy firmly impaled on his lap, fighting for mastery of the violent tremors that shook them both.

McCoy was very still, waiting for Spock to pull himself together. He put his hands over Spock's and moved one to his own erect penis.

Spock petted the doctor, felt him clench reflexively, petting him back. McCoy dropped his head back on Spock's shoulder, arching, twisting a little in Spock's lap, ready to be fucked silly, trying to communicate that; he was beyond words.

Getting the message, Spock kissed his lover's neck and began gently thrusting into McCoy's snug ass. It was wonderful. They found an erotic groove and stayed there. The Vulcan stroking his lover's cock and being stroked himself. Gently biting McCoy's neck, ear, shoulder, caressing his chest and being rewarded with sighs, moans and moisture on the rosy tip. Spock slowed his motions, McCoy began to struggle and thrust downward, grunting in frustration. Spock held him fast: "Shh, my Leonard, not yet," whispered into the delicate ear, leaning back on his heels, drawing the human along with him.

McCoy relaxed - there was no alternative - he could feel Spock's chest rising and falling against his back.

Spock was pumping gently, just enough to keep them both hard, suspending them, waiting.

There was often, not always, alas, a moment in their couplings when the human's consciousness would transcend its limitations and reach out to Spock. Spock longed for these moments, sought them, treasured them, and now felt one to be near at hand.

McCoy was drifting on a sea of pleasure and peace, held lovingly within and without. Held by Spock, his lover, the most wonderful lover ever. At this thought, a wave of bliss swept from his toes to the top of his head and kept going. And Spock was right there, to twine and merge his own bliss with McCoy's.

They floated a moment, establishing themselves in the oneness, in bliss, and then Spock began to move.

He stroked McCoy's cock and chest, released him enough so the doctor could meet Spock's thrusts with his own. They were one motion, quickening, fluid, abandoned, bringing each other higher, closer. Spock's long hard strokes on McCoy's cock finally brought the doctor to a shattering orgasm, twisting and thrusting against the warm hands that held him firmly and completely impaled in Spock's lap. Spock held on as long as he could against McCoy's gyrations and clenching and came with a sigh. Holding the faint, trembling McCoy tight and still on his pulsing organ, rolling his head back in ecstasy.

They were still, breathing hard, recovering, settling back into their own bodies. Spock focused himself and gently lay the limp, spent human on the bed, slowly withdrawing his softening cock with some regret.

Would that we could always be like this, he thought.

It would be much too much, Spock heard softly somewhere in his mind. He smiled, kissing McCoy's shoulder in gratitude (it's wonderful to be understood), and ... what? ... I seem to recall ... what! This reminds me ...! (!) His fight or flight center kicked into warp and he was suddenly grabbing for his clothes.

"Spock? What in the flyin' hell are you doin'?" McCoy rolled over and looked at him.

"I must go," firmly.

"It's only 21:30 hours, Spock," glancing at the bedside chrono. "The night is young."

Spock froze, looked numbly at the chrono, at McCoy, dropped his clothes and lay down again.

Intrigued, McCoy snuggled up and surreptitiously reached for a pulse point.

"Your heart's goin' a mile a minute."

No answer

"What's wrong?" he said with concern.

Spock's lips moved but no sound came out.

I love you.

"What?" McCoy sat up, made eye contact.

I love you.

"I didn't quite catch that, Spock," not believing what he'd just lip read.

Spock sighed and enunciated very clearly in his low clear baritone: "I love you."

McCoy focused on the chrono, 21:32, trying to hide the rush of shock, elation, confusion and joy raging in him. He reached for blankets and settled against Spock's chest, covering them, warming them. McCoy cleared this throat: "I love you, too, Spock," McCoy said quietly, trying, himself, to be calm so as not to spook the Vulcan anymore than he already was. This was a shocking as well as elating event for the doctor. He could not, however, quite read where Spock was at with it, except for his panic reaction.

'I've had that reaction myself,' thought McCoy.

Pause. "What do we do now, Leonard?" Spock asked quietly.

McCoy drew a breath, let it out: "We do," he said, "the best we can."

* * *

The door chime returned McCoy to the sober present. It was Spock: "I apologize for my lateness, it was unavoidable. Mr. Gaillard has obtained some fascinating results in his recent research and wished to discuss them. I could not disengage sooner."

"It's all right, Spock," vaguely, "I was just thinking."

"About?"

"Us."

"And?"

Pause. "We're wonderful."

Spock moved closer to sniff McCoy's breath.

"What?" McCoy snarled.

"You smell good," blandly prevaricating.

"Oh," gentling, smiling, somewhat stunned by this unusual tack, "well ... good." He looked into attentive dark eyes.

Spock nodded, raised his hand and gently caressed McCoy's cheek. They jumped at a shipwide page: "Mr. Spock to the bridge."

McCoy gently struck Spock's chest with his fist: "I'll see you later," firmly.

"Yes, later," equally firmly and he left.

* * *

Part I
WHAT WE LEARN ABOUT THE BROTHERS TALLJET

Jir Talljet, known more widely as Jir the Dancer (Jira Krinat, in the Patois) was enjoying his view of James T. Kirk. KirkaFara, his name in the Patois: Kirk the Beautiful.

'Suits you down to the deck you stand on, fara' (beautiful one), Jir thought.

"So," Jir drawled in Standard, "this is the Enterprise, eh?"

Kirk looked into the beautiful vulcanoid face on the view screen and nodded: "Affirmative. And who are you?"

"Jira Krinat."

Kirk was pensive. Jir the Dancer and his brothers, Hobie (the Pirate) and Ling (the Whore) had been in on every shady deal in non-aligned space for the past fourteen years. Most recently they'd lost their cushy berths in the Tasilinian Empire (all four planets of it) due to its fast track into the Federation. The Brothers Talljet had an odd history of making homes on backward planets which then, mysteriously, developed the sophistication, technology, fiscal discipline and desire to enter the Federation. At the prospect of living on a Federation planet, the Talljets decamped because they refused to live in Federation space. Jir and Ling refused; Hobie was wanted for piracy by the Federation Police as well as the Klingon Empire, the Romulan Empire, the Gokia Guilds, the Neqfarsian Imperial Trading League, and Pejdoletian Confederation of Planets. He, therefore, found it prudent to stay in the Autonomous Zones of non-aligned space where simple folk such as he could live without legal or lethal complications. (The Gokia Guilds, the Neqfarsian Imperial Trading League, and Pejdoletian Confederation of Planets had put a king's ransom on Hobie's head, dead or alive, so it was also prudent to avoid every bounty hunter in the galaxy as well). But it was not onerous for them, as the Talljets were fond of saying, it's a big galaxy, there's enough of it for everyone. These three were maddeningly good natured scoundrels.

The most disturbing rumor about the Talljets was that they possessed second sight. It was thought to be a large part of their continued success.

Jir the Dancer was as widely known for his wit and beauty as for his dancing, which was in itself formidable. He was thought to have run the Molgifinchian Empire (sixty planets), as well as the Emperor, from his bedroom in the seraglio until those 60 planets joined the Federation en masse. Liaisons of this type had been interrupting Jir's artistic career since he had first ventured onto the stage. He was between Monarchs at the moment, hence his engagement on Bharselis and his contact with the Enterprise.

And this was who gazed mildly at the captain of the Enterprise. Kirk cleared his throat: "Why are you on a high priority diplomatic channel ... sir?"

"Oh! Call me Jir!" he enthused and turned to the vulcanoid male next to him. "Mig, why do we have this line? I just wanted to leave a message for SpockDeVulCheq and suddenly I'm a priority." He smiled devastatingly.

"The Chancellor of Carsrellina was so impressed with your performance there he gave you a priority channel so you can reach him immediately. If you call. This channel seeks the apex of any communication center you contact," Mig relayed.

"Huh. Lucky me," Jir mused.

"Excuse me," Kirk cut in, annoyed, "but what do you want ... Jir?"

"I want," Jir enunciated slowly, sexily, "a word with your First Mate."

"Mr. Spock?"

"Tall, ugly, stupid, half-caste Vulcan - would be him, yes."

A palpable freeze reached Jir from the silent humans on the bridge.

"We have," Kirk enunciated, icily, "no such person as you describe, Jir, but if a word with our First Officer, Commander Spock, will get you off my screen, you may have it." He turned to have Uhura page Spock to the bridge.

'These folk love that little fool, Spock,' Jir thought, rather pleased. 'Perhaps he's grown up and turned out to be worthy of love,' he mused, 'or perhaps these are just really stupid people, I'll soon find out, hey?'

Spock stepped onto the bridge, glanced at Kirk and formed his hand into the Vulcan salute: "Live long and prosper, Jir Talljet."

Jir theatrically whipped his hand into a mirror of Spock's: "Peace and long life, SpockDeVulCheq."

They regarded each other, Jir spoke first: "So. Spock. How's your mother?"

"Well, thank you. How are you, Jir."

"Well, thank you."

"And your brothers?"

There was a pause. "They are well."

"All of them?"

There was a longer pause. "Yes, all of them."

Kirk fidgeted; he'd never heard Spock make small talk before, the rest of the bridge was fascinated.

"So, Spock," Jir said, "about your note: I would like to see you if you're gonna be here when you say. My show will open that night so you may as well come see it and we'll chat afterwards. I'll get you a box, bring some friends. Attractive ones." Jir glanced wolfishly around the bridge and continued, "Perhaps you'd like some Orchestra section seats, too, for your pals."

"I do not think ..." Spock began but hearing Uhura clear her throat meaningfully, he changed his tack, "Yes, thank you, Jir."

Jir studied him thoughtfully and smiled: "See ya, Spock," he looked at Kirk, "Captain." He nodded suavely and closed the channel. After a moment of thought, Jir opened a channel into non-aligned space and was greeted in Klingonese.

CHAPTER SIX

"How d'you know Jir the Dancer?" Kirk asked his first mate in the turbo lift.

"He was two classes ahead of me at school on Vulcan." Spock nodded, "More precisely, I attended Shirkar Middle School #7 and the Western Vulcan Preparatory Institute with Jir and his brothers.

Pause. "What was he like?" Kirk ventured.

Spock thought, unreadable: "He was .. kind .. to me, as were his three brothers."

"I thought there were only three brothers, not four."

"It is a widely held misconception." Spock seemed closed on this point so Kirk dropped it, for now.

"What did he call you? SpockDe...?"

"SpockDeVulCheq. It is my name in the Magidrian Patois.

"What does it mean?"

"Spock the half Vulcan."

Kirk was taken aback. Spock looked at him calmly: "It was never flung at me as an insult. It was offered as an honor to my uniqueness. I have learned to appreciate the name only since I left Vulcan."

They came to McCoy's door. Spock, in his abstraction, had brought Kirk to the place he had wished to enter alone and now could not.

McCoy looked up from his reading and was glad he'd stayed dressed.

"D'you know Spock went to High School with Jir the Dancer?" Kirk remarked sitting down.

McCoy looked thoughtful: "I knew the Talljets lived on Vulcan but I'd no idea they went to school with Spock." He looked at Kirk, who was interested.

"How d'you know that?"

"Because of what happened to the youngest one, Ling, on Magidrian and why they were packed off to Vulcan."

"Why's that?"

"It'll give you nightmares, Jim."

"You intrigue me; speak, speak."

McCoy looked at Spock, who lowered his eyes. 'No help there,' he thought, plunging on: "Ling was raped by Dr. Lazroid in the presence of Dr. Wilton on Magidrian." Kirk looked shocked. 'I told you so,' thought McCoy and continued: "It was somehow decided that the safest place for the Talljets was Vulcan."

"Why?"

"Well, they are half Magidrian so they have that Mage sex appeal that scares everyone so much. I'm told Vulcans are immune to it. Also, the Talljets are empaths and telepaths, both touch and otherwise, like all Mages, and Vulcan was, at that time, one of the few Federation planets that could cope with that. The brothers are classified as dangerous aliens, there are Federation planets they simply cannot go to because of their telepathy."

"Such as?"

"Terra." McCoy said flatly.

Kirk turned to Spock: "How old was Ling when he came to Vulcan?"

"Eight or nine."

Kirk was silent, he looked at McCoy: "This is going to give me nightmares."

"I warned you."

"What happened to Lazroid and Wilton? Were they prosecuted?"

"No, there was no evidence on Ling - his empath brothers healed him," 'thank god for small mercies,' he thought to himself, "so the only proof that it happened was on Lazroid's penis," Kirk winced, "but he was dead, throat crushed, and Wilton had an eye torn out when Ling's older brother rescued him from them."

"Which one? Jir or Hobie?"

"Neither, it was the third brother; Maja. Maja Talljet."

Spock was silent. Kirk was digesting this, he asked: "How do you know this, Bones?"

"What happened to Wilton?"

"He was murdered on Tefrinis 7 after the Star Fleet mission was kicked off Magidrian. He was decapitated and his shrunken head was sent to the Talljets on Vulcan. It was never discovered by whom or from where."

Kirk looked impressed, looked a question at Spock.

"I have heard this story but have never seem the object," he said quietly.

"Arthur Castaris," McCoy began, "told me that knowing they were both dead gave Ling some peace. Wilton admitted he witnessed the rape but he was never prosecuted and he never showed any remorse over letting it happen."

"Who is Castaris?" Kirk asked.

"A Star Fleet medic, like me, and Hobie Talljet's adopted father."

"Well, this story gets more interesting by the minute. How does Hobie the Pirate have a Star Fleet doctor for a parent?"

"Well, four doctors on the Magidrian research mission volunteered to adopt four homeless half Mage street boys. Castaris adopted Hobie, Gregor Romsky adopted Jir, James MacQuarrie, Maja, and Paul Duvallier, Ling. The Talljets are not only Federation citizens with the highly desirable permanent residence status on Vulcan, they are also Star Fleet brats, of sorts."

"How long were they with the Doctors."

"Two years or so."

"Bones, you are a fund of knowledge. Why is that?"

"I did research in xenobiology with Castaris on Terra. He liked to talk, I liked to listen but even so, the Talljet scandal is well known in Fleet doctor circles but not much beyond, so I'm not surprised you didn't know," 'and now I wish you would leave so I can rip Spock's clothes off,' McCoy added mentally but not unkindly.

Kirk shifted to Spock and turned on the charm: "Will you take me to see Jir dance?"

"If you wish." Spock turned to McCoy, "Would you care to accompany us, Doctor?"

"Sure."

"Do you like the ballet?"

"No, Spock, but I'd like to see Jir dance at least once."

"Have you seen Jir dance?" Kirk asked Spock.

"Frequently before I left Vulcan but not since."

"Well, then we shall have an interesting evening, at least." Kirk rose, "I'll leave you two to science and see you at supper." He moved to the door, McCoy moved to see him out, "Bones, why is it so hot in here?"

"I like it hot, Jim." McCoy said to Kirk's back.

McCoy turned to Spock and was startled to find him right there, pulling him into a crushing embrace.

"Are you okay?" McCoy asked kindly.

No answer from the face buried in his neck so he just patted the Vulcan sympathetically and waited. Spock finally disengaged and looked at McCoy.

"Are you gonna tell me what's goin' on?" McCoy asked.

"Later," Spock murmured, pressing his lips to the doctor's.

McCoy was an extremely patient soul when necessary and was willing to wait for Spock to come round and tell him what was on his mind. Even though the Vulcan would never admit he was disturbed by anything, McCoy and those who worked closely with him could tell. And waiting in this kiss was very pleasant.

Spock had been upset by the discussion of the Talljets and prior to that, he'd been elated by his conversation with Jir, at finally having a conversation with Jir after all these years, so, for him, he was on emotional overload and trying to regain control. Consequently, the kiss that began with desperation (well, as close as Spock got to it) gentled into a soft play of lips and tongues, hands caressing and exploring and peace descending for both. Spock held McCoy close and whispered: "Shall I tell you now or after?"

McCoy felt his own need, reached out to feel Spock's and decided: "Later. Make love to me. Now."

Spock rubbed the doctor's back affectionately and steered him to the sleeping alcove. McCoy undressed, he was only wearing shorts and a T-shirt in the heat, so it didn't take long. Spock pulled off his own clothes with alacrity and lay down next to him, drawing McCoy into the curve of his arm.

Their affair had by now progressed to a calmer stage, which was a relief to both - its original intensity had been exhausting.

McCoy curled against his lover, running his fingers through Spock's chest hair, pinching his nipples playfully. Spock was enjoying this, McCoy knew this because he felt Spock relax. That was most gratifying and McCoy felt encouraged to let his hand play somewhat lower. Spock was only half-hard, unusual but not unheard of. McCoy gently stroked him a little harder and then moved down to take him in his mouth. Spock was responding but appeared to be in one of his rare passive moods. McCoy, not wanting to misread him, sucked on the head, paying special attention to the underside with his tongue. He fondled Spock's balls, weighing them, squeezing them in his hand. Spock spread his legs a bit wider, a usual sign that he wanted to be fucked. McCoy was happy to oblige. He looked up, "Ready?" he asked, surprised. Spock nodded and handed him the lubricant. McCoy bent to give his cock one last loving lick or two before lifting Spock's knees and slipping in slick fingers, readying him.

McCoy lubed up, rolled Spock forward a bit and centered his cock. He drew a breath before gently pressing in. Even though they had worked out the mechanics of inter-species sex, if not raised it to a high art, there was still a moment of hesitation for McCoy, remembering the first, rather painful, time he'd been inside Spock. He was now half way in and feeling more confident. He stopped to rest against Spock's thighs and look down at this lover. Spock's eyes were hooded and he was flushed with pleasure, relaxed and trusting.

McCoy continued to press in, as always marveling at the heat and grip of the Vulcan. He bent to kiss Spock gently, Spock, in turn, wrapped his legs around McCoy's waist and began rocking his hips in encouragement, his cock hard between them. Perceptively, McCoy began gently fucking him, withdrawing and letting Spock press him back in, controlling half the pace with his legs around McCoy's waist. Spock moved his legs a little higher and McCoy increased his thrusts, panting now, lost in the sensation of such intimacy with his Vulcan. 'Spock - my lover.' Spock - his lover, was now panting himself, and thrusting up to meet each hard stroke.

McCoy was intent on their mutual pleasure. He reached between them to stroke the Vulcan's cock as he slammed into him. He could feel Spock's penis start to jerk under his hand and feeling him clenching in incipient climax sent McCoy rushing up to his own orgasm.

"Yes," he gasped, hearing Spock's ravishing moan, "oh, yes, Spock," he cried out and came, stiffening and then collapsing onto the hot body, into warm arms that held his shuddering form tight, comforting him. He kissed Spock's neck, drew back and looked into dark eyes: "Thanks." A smile.

"You are welcome." A nod.

McCoy chuckled breathlessly, withdrew and rolled onto his back beside Spock, still catching his breath. Spock settled his sleek head on McCoy's shoulder and cuddled up. That was unusual but nice so McCoy only held him tight, soothed him and didn't ask any questions. For one thing, he was spent, for another, Spock talked in bed only when Spock wanted to talk in bed and that was a solid fact. So McCoy rested and waited for his lover to tell him what was on his mind, if he would, if not, oh well, he'd get it out of him later, somehow. At the moment McCoy felt perfect contentment and was happy to let it linger in the silence.

Spock rolled away from him and regarded the ceiling.

"What do you know about Maja Talljet," he asked quietly.

"Just what I said to Jim," equally quietly.

"We were lovers."

McCoy suppressed his surprise and propped himself up to look into Spock's eyes: "And what happened?"

"I left him for Star Fleet."

"And what did he do?"

"He disappeared from Vulcan shortly after I left and was never seen again. Hobie went with him." McCoy waited. Spock continued: "I made what inquiries I could but they just disappeared. I think they went into the Autonomous Zones of non-aligned space because that's where Hobie surfaced and where Jir and Ling went after they left Vulcan themselves. They all speak the Patois, they would be able to find their way."

McCoy was thoughtful, the Autonomous Zones were full of renegades, mercenaries, pirates, and all varieties of pariah, psychopath and manic. He did some math, Maja would have been sixteen or so, Hobie, around twenty. It was a hard life to go into especially for ones so young. Hobie had apparently survived, even flourished, but what of Maja?

"Do you think he's alive, Spock?"

"Jir has said so. I hope he can or will tell me more when I see him on Bharselis."

"Are you trying to find him?"

"Yes. "

"Why?"

"To apologize."

"For what?"

"For rejecting him. I did not understand our situation when I left Vulcan. I now see how poorly I terminated our relationship. I would also like to know if he is .. well."

McCoy was silent. Spock looked over at him.

"If I can help you, Spock, please tell me."

"Thank you, Leonard, you have already helped me a great deal."

"How?"

"What I have with you is very similar to what I had with Maja. Since it is a repeatable phenomena, I could classify it and understand it."

"You loved him, Spock, your first love."

Spock was silent. McCoy continued: "And you threw him away, didn't you?" quietly.

"I threw them all away."

* * *

Master Ghet was drinking Relan tea and considering the sculpture in progress before him. It was a series of Klingon warriors in battle, an allegory of Klingon honor, victorious and invincible. It would adorn the Klingon cathedral the Commune was constructing here on Rovirin. The Gozshedrefreingin Commune had completed the Klingon Garrison six months earlier. Master Ghet didn't speculate on the merits of one project over the other. Work is work and it's better to have it than not.

The Hierophant Kroldt had commented to him that the spread of the Klingon faith was a noble endeavor and a great honor for the Commune to be the vehicle for it. Master Ghet had said nothing but wondered if the Klingon faith would be as effective for collecting the vast quantities of dilithium crystals from the locals as the Klingon blasters had been.

He shrugged, sipped and looked out at his work, deciding that such political issues were hardly of interest to a Master Sculptor and simple priest of the most Holy Imperial Klingon Church such as he. Master Gozine Gozshedrefreingin Ghet returned to contemplating the work at hand and admiring the Rovirin marble, remembering that planets with the finest dilithium crystals also possessed other fine mineral wealth, alas. The finest dilithium crystals brought out the worst in most beings.

His eldest son, Tien, stood waiting for his attention, a welcome distraction - TienaFara was always a pleasure to see, even for his parent.

"Uncle Jir's calling for you, Master."

Gozine nodded and carried his cup to the comm unit on the workbench.

"He's on the Imperial advisory channel," Tien commented, obviously impressed.

Master Ghet glanced at him and then at the door. Tien hesitated and then reluctantly left. Like his brothers, Master Ghet wore his ebony ringlets long, however, smoothed over his pointed ears and braided down his back. He'd burned off most of it once casting bronze and never forgotten the lesson. He required his youngest son, Farro, to wear his hair braided when he worked with hot metals, which was all the time. Flipping his long braid over his shoulder, Master Ghet turned to the comm unit and addressed it in Patois: "Hullo, Jir, wherever did you get this channel? You've deeply impressed Tien by having it."

"Oh, some guy. Can't remember his name but he seems to have been sufficiently grateful. I could get straight through to god on this channel."

"Whatever would you have to say to god?"

"My question exactly," Jir commented dryly, "How are you Maja? You look rather thoughtful."

"I'm drinking Relan tea, it makes me thoughtful."

"It's supposed to. Listen, Noli (little brother), I've just been talking to another product of Vulcan, SpockDeVulCheq, he's coming to see me dance in three days."

Maja's heart stopped but he managed to retain his serene mask: "You're dancing _Skolta_; he won't enjoy it."

"He's not coming for the dancing, he wants to talk about you, Maja," Jir said seriously. He was somewhat annoyed by Maja's affected serenity. 'Scream, cry, blink, react, something! We're talking about the Spock,' he thought savagely but said coolly: "What shall I tell him?"

Maja looked at his older brother with love. Jir would agree to see Spock after all these years of politely avoiding the half Vulcan, he was a kind soul.

"Tell him no one dies of love and that I have forgotten him and he should forget me."

Jir's irritation ascended a notch, he knew Maja too well to go for this misty high falutin' tribble shit: "Lovely, Maja, worthy of Ling's poetry. So, no one dies of love but they often wish they could." He made one of the dramatic gestures he was so famous for. "And you have not forgotten him, you can't or you wouldn't be drinking Relan tea for one thing, for another, you see him everyday when you look at ..."

"I drink it to remind me how lucky lucky lucky I am to have escaped that hellhole."

"Really! Maja, remember me? I helped you pack. You fled Vulcan, Spock escaped it. And you're both fools but that's neither here nor there. What shall I tell him when he asks after you?"

Maja sat back, annoyed, he loved Jir but he could be so literal, so demanding, so relentless one could howl. He clenched his tattooed hands in his lap. 'Perhaps this is what having a doctorate in Federation law and a Vulcan Law license does to you over time,' Maja thought, 'makes you an irritating conversationalist.'

"Tell him to go to hell."

"Well, that's more normal but not very helpful." Jir wondered if bad temper was a prerequisite for being a Klingon Master or a result of it, 'Maja gets worse every year.'

Master Ghet sat up straight and looked sternly at his brother. Counselor Talljet gazed, with a deceptively benign and mild mien, at the same.

Maja exhaled and slumped: "Oh, Nolo (elder brother) can't you just say I'm well and refuse to discuss it further?" he pleaded, suddenly in need of reassurance that the past really would stay put.

"I can, Noli, I will, if that's all you want said," Jir said gently, relieved to finally get an honest reaction.

Maja nodded, noticing the light changing and knew he needed to wrap this up. Besides, this conversation was costing somebody a fortune.

"Jir, look, I've got to go, call me after you see him, hey? But, one last thing, why did you agree to see him when you and Ling have avoided him for so long?"

"Something in his voice made me curious enough." Jir said thoughtfully, "That's all."

"Oh," Maja smiled, "Well, good-bye, Jir, all my love."

"Peace and long life, Maja Talljet, and all my love as well."

CHAPTER SEVEN

Star Fleet dress uniforms, although visually pleasing, were torture for the wearer. At least that was the doctor's opinion as he fastened the too tight collar. He hoped Jir's dancing would take his mind off fashion. Finally finished dressing, McCoy proceeded to the transporter room where he found Kirk and Spock looking magnificent but, he knew, living through the same sartorial nightmare as himself.

"You look lovely, Bones." Kirk was in excellent spirits.

"Thank you, Captain." McCoy was not.

Spock was silent. McCoy speculated that he might have been nervous, if that were possible.

They transported directly to the theater and found their way through a gala crowd to Jir's box.

Passing through a lavish anteroom they settled themselves into their really excellent seats and looked over the crowd. Kirk was glad they'd dressed up. The Royal family overflowed their box directly facing the stage. Kirk considered sending an invitation to one or two crushed looking princesses. The Bharselis government occupied the boxes on either side of its Sovereign. The Sultan of Orissa and his entourage occupied another. To Kirk's untrained eye it appeared that all the wealth and power of Bharselis and twenty-eight members of Star Fleet were in attendance this gala first night. He looked down at the patch of Star Fleet colors below and blessed Jir for the crew's tickets, they could not have been easy to come by. He looked at Spock studying the programme.

"How did you decide what crew got tickets, Spock?"

"I did not. I gave the tickets to Lieutenant Uhura as she would know who would wish to attend such an event." Spock, having just perused the programme notes, rather wished he were not here.

The story to be enacted before them was _Skolta_, whose story was to be retold in three acts with music.

Act I. Warlord Losknir's fortress on pre-reform Vulcan, in the time of Surak, Losknir's favorite male concubine, Skolta, is persuading his lord to at least banish Surak from his lands, if not kill him outright. Skolta desires this because the imposition of logic as the new religion will erode his own political power and the quality of Vulcan life. Various forms of argument and persuasion are presented, i.e. dancing, singing, etc. Losknir orders Surak banished thereby setting the last Vulcan Civil War into motion.

Act II. Losknir's fortress. On the eve of war, Losknir receives a delegation from Surak, making one last bid for a peaceful solution. Skolta mocks them and convinces Losknir to execute them and display their heads on the fortress wall as an answer to Surak. The delegation is taken to be executed. Warlords Trvsin and Nzrta enter with their entourages and dancing and singing and other forms of entertainment ensue in which Skolta plays a leading role.

Act III. Losknir's fortress. Losknir lies dying in Skolta's arms as his fortress surrenders. Losknir dies. The victorious Surak enters and engages Skolta in private conversation. Surak orders Skolta beheaded and his head displayed on the Fortress walls to herald the tyranny to logic that enslaves the Vulcans to this very day. Curtain.

Kirk and McCoy looked up from their programmes and at Spock, stoically regarding the throng.

"...ah," McCoy began, breaking the silence, "I see the author of the text is Ling Talljet."

Spock nodded.

"Doesn't he like Vulcans?" Kirk ventured.

"Ling's contention is with Vulcan history and culture. He takes issue with the laws of Surak and the Matriarchy. It is a theme that occurs in almost all of his writings in one form or another."

"I didn't know he was a playwright."

Spock sighed mentally and decided it was an interesting enough story to tell: "Ling has an advanced degree in economics and literature from the Vulcan Institute. Upon graduation, he was offered a substantial position in the Federation Development Ministry, based upon his thesis on the economic development of unsophisticated but resource rich planets. He theorized on the development of planets in the Ploynolin group."

"Which have since joined the Federation." Kirk supplied.

"And are being developed using Ling's thesis as a blueprint." Spock added.

"What happened after he turned down the Federation job?" Kirk asked, intrigued.

"He became a very successful prostitute in the Autonomous Zones and wrote several very popular pornographic novels."

"Such as what we are about to see."

"No. _Skolta_ was Ling's thesis in Literature at the Vulcan Institute."

McCoy smiled: "His committee can't have liked it very much."

"I do not know what the committee's decision process was, however, Ling was awarded his degree with honors and received several offers to publish his poetry and commissions for more." Spock paused, a shadow of pleasure passed behind his eyes: "He is a very fine poet in Vulcan."

"But he chose exile, prostitution and pornography instead." Kirk remarked.

"He remarked to a mutual acquaintance that he wished to study supply side economics in its most extreme form and that prostitution in unregulated social systems presented the purest model," Spock commented dryly and continued: "He further stated that he intended to write smut until he had exhausted the subject, by which time he hoped to know enough about love to write on that."

They were silent, mulling this over. Mig, Jir's secretary, knocked and entered: "Jira's sent up some food for you," he gestured to the spread of vegetarian delicacies being laid out. "And some wine."

Spock barely inclined his sleek head. Mig activated the anteroom stage monitor and continued: "I'll return during the third act to collect you and bring you backstage. Jira is concerned that you will not be able to get through the crowd otherwise."

"We'll miss the ending," McCoy said.

"You can watch it on the monitor in Jir's dressing room, if you wish." Mig bowed and turned to go. Spock spoke: "What are you doing here, your Highness, if I may ask?"

"I am Jira's secretary.

"Why?"

"I find the travel and people interesting." He paused. "Will there be anything further?"

Spock looked at the Humans. They looked back at him. "No, thank you, Prince Smig. We shall expect you later."

"Until then, Spock." Mig made eye contact with the humans and left.

"Prince Smig?" McCoy asked.

"An old and noble family."

"Why do you pronounce it Smig and he pronounces it Mig?" Kirk asked. p> "Vulcan male names beginning with S honor Surak; remove the S and the opposite is achieved."

They took their seats as the lights dimmed and an expectant hush fell over the audience.

The curtain raised on the scene of Jir, as Skolta, nude, on his knees, sucking Losknir's, portrayed by Phr-tolnet, cock. Kirk blushed at the realism and was glad for the darkness. McCoy wondered how they could stay in character and be so convincing. Spock sighed mentally and girded himself for a long evening.

Skolta: "And would you renounce me for peace, my Lord?"

Losknir: "No, I would only renounce you for war as only strife and chaos excite me as much as you."

Skolta: "And if Surak's peace is thrust down our throats, my Lord?"

Losknir: "I shall cut it off and spit it into his face."

A long evening indeed, except when Jir was dancing. He commanded their attention and suspended time itself.

The trio retired to the anteroom to eat, drink and watch Act II on the monitor. Jir had thoughtfully written down the times of the dances in the performance so they would know when they were missing something good.

Skolta: "Surak offers a living death dressed up as the old whore peace, who'll go with anyone who is willing. Shall we renounce love to conquer hatred? Elation to conquer rage? Ecstasy to conquer despair? We will have nothing but hides that do not feel and hunger only for food. How can you advocate our diminution? What life is that for those the gods made able to know the greatness of god in all its manifestations?"

Delegate: "Without peace we will all die and therefore be unable to enjoy what you speak of."

Skolta: "I prefer to die quickly by violence than slowly of logic."

Kirk and McCoy found the orgy that ends Act II of great interest, it representing a crucial event in Vulcan history, which was suddenly much more interesting than they had previously thought.

Spock, not much of a voyeur, was bored. Had Kirk not been with them he might have availed himself of one of the wide couches and made love to Leonard. He regarded McCoy, flushed with pleasure, excitement and wine, in the dim light from the stage and thought, 'quel dommage.'

"How have I never heard of this play before?" Kirk murmured, breaking into Spock's reverie.

"It is not popular on Vulcan."

"Oh, I can believe that."

"It has, however, been running continuously in the Klingon Empire for the past 10 years." Spock remarked.

During the interval, Kirk and McCoy ran into Sulu.

"Well, Sulu, are you enjoying your evening?" Kirk asked pleasantly.

"Yes, sir, I had no idea Vulcan history was so... fascinating."

In another part of the lobby Spock was greeted by Uhura: "Mr. Spock, this is amazing."

"Is it? I find the musical component pedestrian although representational of the period it depicts."

"Is the sex also representational of the period?"

"I would not know, Lieutenant." The lights dimmed for the third act and the hot and bothered crowd returned to their seats.

Skolta, kneeling before Surak: "Can you renounce what you have never had, my Lord?"

Surak: "Yes."

Skolta: "Can you renounce the opportunity to discover what you have not had, my Lord?"

Surak: "Yes."

Skolta: "And so my Lord draws a conclusion without sufficient experience to draw such a conclusion. Is this the future of Vulcan? Then let me die of passion before I grow bored with existence."

Surak: "You will die of logic and law before that, beautiful one. You have sown hatred and now you shall reap death. It is logical to destroy what cannot be salvaged. Your execution will stand as a lesson for others, as well."

Skolta: "Then they shall learn that there is more to this life than logic, Surak. You may stand over my grave to be sure I am dead but as you lay on stones and cook sand while building a logical hell, it will be my eyes you see glowing with pleasure when you have none, my skin you long to caress when you wake on the hard ground and my laughter you will hear forever in the sterile construct you condemn all Vulcans to."

Surak: "And were I to let you live?"

Skolta: "I would build my Lord a paradise with these two hands." Dramatic gesture.

Surak: "Perhaps. But I doubt you would let me live in it very long. Actions provoke consequences, Skolta, and you must face yours and I will face mine."

Skolta: "You will regret this forever."

Surak: "Possibly, however, you will not be alive to enjoy my remorse."

Kirk and McCoy watched the finale from Jir's dressing room which was even more opulent than his box.

McCoy found himself wishing Surak could have reformed Skolta along with Vulcan since it seemed a waste to destroy so much wit and beauty, however misguided.

Kirk was wondering if Skolta's sister, if he had one, would have had better luck.

Spock was wondering when Jir was going to stop bowing and they could leave.

The crowd had so far been content to cheer and chant his name with increasing intensity but Jir had a premonition that it was time to go. He signaled his intention to the company, bowed once more and left the stage. A sudden savage howl went up and a new born mob rushed the stage.

"Aaaand away we go,' Jir thought happily, racing backstage with Mig, Spock and the humans in his wake. They dove into the waiting hoverlimousine and passed the riot squad on its way to the theater.

"Well! That went pretty well, dontcha think, Mig?" Jir asked brightly, pulling his dressing gown around him.

"The spectators appeared to enjoy it, as well." Mig opined.

Kirk hailed the Enterprise to make sure everyone got back on board safely. He turned to Jir: "Where are we going?" he asked.

"My place. Did you enjoy the show, Captain Kirk?" 'Even prettier in person,' thought Jir, 'but what was on between Spock and the other human?' He switched his vision from form and color to energy field, an inborn talent all the Talljets had perfected on Vulcan. "Have we met?" He smiled to McCoy before Kirk could answer.

"Dr. McCoy, this is Jir Talljet." Spock verbalized, watching Jir watching McCoy with interest.

"Charmed, Mr. Talljet. Allow me to congratulate you on this evening's performance, it was awe-inspiring," McCoy drawled.

Jir smiled charmingly and thanked the doctor, he did so love compliments. 'Allow me to congratulate you on yours, Doctor,' Jir was thinking. 'You're Spock's coochie but you can't show it for some reason.' He glanced at Spock, who dipped his shields just enough to send Jir a warning as well as a plea. They arrived chez Jir.

"Undo your collars, gentlemen, and relax. I'll be with you terrectly." Jir called over his shoulder, disappearing into a hallway. Spock could hear him speaking softly to someone. Mig brought them into a modestly furnished parlor and offered them more wine, which was refused. He then offered coffee and Relan tea, which were accepted.

Jir reappeared, showered, his unruly, matte, jet curls brushed back into a simple bun and wearing a dark blue dressing gown. He looked closer to his age rather than the sixteen year old Vulcan dancing boy he'd just portrayed.

"Come into the kitchen and keep me company while I get supper together."

"I thought we would go out," Spock suggested.

"Very kind, Spock, but I spent this afternoon making you coza and mlou, with these two hands," dramatic gesture, "and I will suffer greatly if you don't enjoy it."

"I do not wish to trouble you, Jir." Spock enjoyed eating coza and mlou quite a bit.

"You do not." Jir moving around a clean but simple kitchen, the humans and Vulcans sat watching him.

"These are temporary quarters until we decide if we will stay here," Jir commented, catching the human's thought, setting plates and bowls on the table before them and sitting down.

They ate in silence for a while, Jir looked tired because he was. Mig rose to answer the comm line.

"So, Kirk," Jir poured himself a coffee and a Mitca brandy and leaned back, "what brings the Enterprise to Bharselis?"

"We're here as window dressing for the negotiations on Bharselis's entrance into the Federation, a diplomatic mission, they picked us because we were in the neighborhood."

"And a bad choice you are," Jir bluntly stated, "but that isn't surprising. You Terrans are an obtuse lot when it comes to this end of the galaxy."

The Terrans stiffened but Spock was curious: "Why so, Jira?"

Jir smiled at hearing his nickname: "Why send a Starship capable of destroying a planet to encourage a planet that's already made up its mind to join? The rumors are flying that the Enterprise is here to make sure the haggling goes the Federation's way. If not, blam blam blam."

Kirk privately agreed with Jir. He had doubted Ambassador Martin's judgment in summoning them here but was in no position to refuse, his orders had come straight from Admiral Jessup. The reasoning had been that Star Fleet needed to be represented on Bharselis and secondly that if the mission was attacked by pirates or others, the Enterprise had the best chance of fighting its way out of trouble. Bharselis's position in non-aligned space was nervous-makingly close to the Autonomous Zones. This also made its decision to join the Federation and not some other group a major coup. So, he merely smiled and thanked Jir for his opinion. He made eye contact with the little vulcanoid boy peeking around the door frame behind Jir.

Jir swung round to look at what Kirk was seeing: "Hey! Hobiea olio (little other Hobie), c'mere, you."

The boy clambered on Jir's lap and looked at them with some interest. He was all dark eyes and a pointed chin and jetty curls like Jir's, except his were shiny where Jir's were matte.

"And this is?" McCoy asked.

"My first son."

"Named after your brother?" McCoy suggested.

"Of course."

"And his mother?" Spock asked quietly.

Jir looked at him, eyes unreadable: "He hasn't one."

"How is that so, Jira?" Spock was suddenly very interested.

Jir considered, decided there was no harm in telling: "Don't you know where little Mages come from, Spock?" he smiled, amused. "When inspired to do so, even we MageCheqs (half Mages) flip for our guy, go female and get knocked up, three times, have three baby boys, and then back to male. I found it a rather nice change of pace and the fashion possibilities were endless. I've just gone male again about a year ago."

"Then who fathered your sons?" Spock persisted. McCoy thought this was ungallant, but only in passing, he was watching Jir with Hobiea and searching for what it reminded him of.

"Various people you don't know." Flatly, finally. Jir picked up a sugar cube and soaked it in Mitca brandy and fed it to his son.

McCoy, gazing with interest at parent and child, had an odd reaction to this action. On one level he disapproved feeding liquor to a toddler but on the other hand, his father had fed him the occasional cognac soaked sugar cube when he, like Hobiea, had snuggled in his lap after bedtime, to listen to the male voices rumbling about things he didn't understand, lulling him to sleep. He'd been drifting on a wave of nostalgia, remembering this just prior to Jir's action and was disconcerted by seeing his memory reenacted before him. He looked sharply at Jir, who regarded him with approval.

Jir had picked up McCoy's memory because it was more interesting than what Kirk was musing on and Spock was too well shielded. He had modeled his action to please the human and was curious to see that it had not.

'They don't like being read, these humans,' Jir thought, 'except when they want to be read. This one, however, is very complex and cares very deeply for Spock, god help him. And he must have something going for him if Spock is interested.'

Jir had a favorable but realistic opinion of Spock, lightly tinged with affection and respect. Overall, he approved of what he'd seen and felt from and between Spock and McCoy this evening. It was his opinion that they were onto something good and he wished them joy.

Mig reappeared wearing his coat: "I've got to go to the detention center, half the company was picked up by the riot squad."

"Dammit, they're actors not rioters."

Mig cocked an eyebrow and departed. Jir picked up the now sleeping Hobiea and left the room as well. He returned wearing a long intricately pleated black gown and his hair flowing down his back.

"D'you mind if we go to a little place I found the other night? They play music there that reminds me of Vulcan." 'Reminds me of the happy times on Vulcan,' Jir amended to himself.

They went out on the street and flagged a taxi (Mig had taken the limo), Jir gave the driver directions in Patois. Spock enjoyed hearing it again after all these years, he thought of Vulcan: "How was your last trip to Shirkar to renew your license, Jira?"

"It was annoying. I was pregnant and hid it from everyone except the Sas."

"Are they well?"

"Oh, yes, eccentric as ever. I brought Hobiea to show them and they thought he was fascinatin'." Jir felt the humans smile mentally and he smiled back at them mentally.

"Who're the Sas?" Kirk asked.

"Our Vulcan foster family." Jir smiled at him.

"Why were you visiting Vulcan, Jir?" McCoy asked.

"To renew my license to practice law on Vulcan. Every five years Vulcan lawyers must retake and pass the Federation bar exam and, if you are selected in a raffle, to argue a hypothetical case before the law college. It's a pain in the ass but it keeps us all current and on our toes."

'It also makes Vulcan lawyers the most formidable in the Federation,' Spock thought but said, "Did you argue a case before the college?"

"No, thank god, the college follows the court's tradition of making its members shave their heads to appear before it. I have escaped the savages yet again." But it was said with affection. Jir and Ling were fonder than their brothers of Vulcan, although that was sometimes hard to discern.

"Do you practice law on Vulcan?" McCoy asked, "I was rather under the impression you haven't been there much in the past dozen or so years."

"Well, I keep an office there but I've never plead a case in court there or done much else either. All I care about is dancing." Dramatic gesture.

"Seems like a lot of trouble to keep a license you don't use," McCoy commented. "Why d'you bother?"

"I'm sentimental." He paused. "And you never know when you might need your Vulcan license." He looked out the window, "Ah, here we are." The taxi stopped before a dim little cafe and they disembarked. Jir and Spock exchanged some terse Vulcan about who would pay the driver before realizing that Kirk was already paying the driver, who saluted them and drove off.

Jir's entrance did not go unnoticed but there were only a handful of patrons so it was not uproarious. The owner himself brought them wine on the house and asked Jir his pleasure.

"I want to hear an Imman."

Spock looked dubious and turned to watch the proprietor speak to the quartet on the bandstand. The leader, a lanky humanoid in black leather carrying an lyre, addressed Jir, mostly in standard: "Hey there, Fara, what the qwzrk is an Imman?"

"It's kinda a Mirgessian shuffle via Xozishinia on a hot night with a full moon, you dij?"

Spock closed his eyes, hoping this was not leading where he thought it was leading. Kirk and McCoy were curious.

The musician thought about this for a moment: "I dij. Kinda a hep scat laid back wariyo whose mother was frightened by a Rom bolero with a Sorosican accent on a hot night with a full moon, dij?"

"Precisely, we dij." Jir was always impressed to find such refined sensibilities in his vicinity.

The musician swaggered off and engaged his cohorts in a brief discussion. Sharply accented but lyrical music jerked across the dance floor. Spock opened his eyes and was pinned by Jir's: "Let's dance."

The humans froze.

"I have not danced an Imman since the last one I danced with you, Jir, twenty-three point thirty-seven years ago," Spock informed him.

"Then we can pick up where we left off." Jir stood and Spock could not but follow. Kirk and McCoy exchanged looks and leaned back to watch. They were surprised to notice that Spock and Jir were the same height, Jir had seemed smaller.

Immans, as danced rarely on Vulcan, are a very complex dance where the dancers hold their elbows to their sides and their forearms and hands perpendicular to their waists, fingertips touching. The taller partner leads, in this case Jir decided Spock should lead since Jir could follow anything Spock might do. The lead's fingertips point downward touching the following partner's upward pointing fingers. This is the only contact point. The dance is a series of intricate steps and kicks between and around each other's legs while the lead guides the couple in a figure eight. Misstep or inattention often resulted in serious bruising. Mastery of it was a cultural and scholastic requirement for all Vulcan teenagers, owed to its being an ancient court dance, preserved these many centuries. Jir had taken pity on Spock and partnered him for the exam at W. Vul. Prep. because Jir could make even the teenaged Spock look graceful. Twenty-three point thirty-seven years later they not only looked graceful but also very elegant and rather sexy.

Spock found his bearings very quickly, partly because Jir was such a good partner and partly because he wanted to talk. He addressed Jir in Vulcan: "It is beneficial that we can speak privately. Where is your brother Maja?"

"I was wondering if you were going to ask me that." Jir replied in Vulcan, noting with a sigh what a blunt instrument the language was when Spock used it. At least his dancing had improved somewhat.

"I ask you now, Jir."

Jir sighed mentally: "He does not wish to be found." Thoughtfully, he omitted the 'by you' from his statement.

"Why not?"

"It is illogical as well as emotionally painful to have contact with one by whom one has been rejected and with whom one has no possibility of a positive future interaction." Jir intoned in his best neutral voice. 'Sometimes,' Jir thought, 'Vulcan can be a useful language for saying hard things.' Out of the corner of his eye he noticed still and vid cameras on them, decided the proprietor must have called them to exploit Jir's presence in his club.

'Live it up,' Jir thought, 'I shall pass this way and dance with SpockDeVulCheq but once.'

Just then Spock did something so shocking Jir was speechless. He locked his fingers in Jir's and pulled Jir close so they were nose to nose. Spock stared intently into his eyes, Jir was disconcerted, gave up the Imman and simply let Spock move him around the dance floor.

CHAPTER EIGHT

"I do not intend to force myself on your younger brother, but I do wish to know his whereabouts and his condition."

"Why?" Jir was a little angry at Spock's bullying tone.

"To know that he is well."

"I have told you he is." His blood was up now.

"I seek to verify that for myself."

"Whaddaya think, Spock? He died of loving you?" Jir snarled in Standard because Vulcan had no words for this. "Nobody dies of love. They ache from failure and rejection and berate themselves for loving one who couldn't or wouldn't or simply didn't love them back. Be logical, Spock, why would Maja want to see you? When you decided your future he wasn't even on the B list. Why open a closed wound?"

"I wish to apologize to him."

"I'll tell him you're sorry," Jir said wearily.

"I want to tell him myself."

"No. You can only cause him pain. You are not free. He would only see what he can't have and that is the source of all suffering. Please, Spock, forget it, forget him as he has forgotten you."

"Has he forgotten me?" Spock asked quietly.

"Mostly," Jir lied through his teeth. 'Be happy with McCoy, he's right for you,' he added to himself, hoping Spock would hear it. Jir looked around. He had not noticed it filling up but the the cafe was now teeming with people, among them the Sultan of Orissa. He had a bad feeling behind his knees. "Spock, we gotta get outta here."

Spock had noticed the crowd as well and felt a bestial energy emanating from it. It reminded him of Norselats hunting in a pack, closing in on a kill. And unfortunately Jir was their prey. Kirk and McCoy were feeling it, too, Kirk was scanning the exits, looking for a likely escape route, knowing that as long as Jir and Spock kept dancing in the magic circle they were safe. His eyes lit on the main power switch behind the band, next to an exit.

"Bones. You get Spock and Jir down to this end of the dance floor and head them for the exit when the lights go out."

McCoy nodded and moved through the crowd, down to the floor, thinking of the last time he and Spock made love, hoping that would get his attention, somehow.

Jir heard him first, then Spock, they both grinned mentally and headed up the floor following McCoy's fascinating train of thought.

Kirk had gotten to the switch and threw it when he saw they had a straight shot to the exit. Spock and Jir each grabbed one of McCoy's arms and practically carried him out the door Kirk held open. The crowd exploded into a mob in all directions. Jir reached for Kirk and they hurled themselves full speed down the alleyway, pursued.

They nearly collided with an enormous hoverlimo that glided before them. Jir noted the Orissian royal crest on the door just before it opened to reveal the Sultan himself: "May I offer you and your companions a ride, maestro?"

They dove into the Sultan's lap and were whisked away from the pursuing mob.

"Why, of course, your majesty, it would be an honor to accept a ride from you," Jir drawled breathlessly as soon as he could.

The Sultan was charmed, of course.

* * *

They returned to the Enterprise and after seeing a sleepy Kirk to his quarters Spock guided a sleepy McCoy into his own.

He looked calmly into McCoy's blue eyes.

"Spock, now that you've got me in your overheated lair don't you think the hospitable thing would be to get some of these clothes off me?" McCoy was sleepy but not crazy.

Spock unfastened McCoy's collar and worked open the rest of the tunic. They tugged each other's clothes off and moved to the shower.

Very hot for McCoy and bracing for Spock, they soaped as much of each other as they could reach in the confined space. Spock had worked two soapy fingers into McCoy and felt they had both waited long enough. He turned the doctor around in his arms and braced him against the shower wall. Out of habit, he paused the spray, one did not overindulge in water on a starship even in a water rich port like Bharselis. He ran his slippery fingers over McCoy's chest and pressed his cock gently inside, murmuring softly in Vulcan next to the delicate round ear.

McCoy arched his ass to give his lover a better angle and was glad they were nearly the same height. He braced his hands against the wall and bent forward a bit to better meet Spock's thrusts. He wondered at Spock's intensity, perhaps it was a delayed reaction to the very sexy play or a rush from their flight from the mob in the cafe. Whatever. McCoy was enflamed himself, Spock's soapy hands were stroking him higher, his hard cock moving maddeningly across his prostate made him jump with every thrust. Jump with pleasure and meet Spock's thrusts with increasing urgency.

Spock had given up murmuring and taken up moaning, he was very close to climax and he wanted McCoy with him. He stroked the doctor harder and was gratified to feel a response under his hands and around his cock. When he felt McCoy at his own threshold, Spock slammed into the ecstatic, writhing form in his arms and let release crash over him.

After several moments of pure bliss, after they'd settled back into their bodies, after the human's body had released the Vulcan's cock, Spock turned the water on again to rinse them off. He turned McCoy to face him and kissed him, long and deep, both realizing that it was the first time they had kissed since starting to make love. Unusual for them, they both enjoyed kissing, lips and elsewhere, must be the effect of their odd evening together.

After toweling off, McCoy reached for his dress uniform but Spock intercepted his hand and pulled him to his bed. "Stay with me tonight, Leonard."

"All right."

They curled up together. McCoy felt like talking. "What did you and Jir talk about while you were dancing?"

"Maja."

"And...?"

"He says Maja is well and to forget him as he has forgotten me," 'and be happy with you because you are right for me,' Spock added to himself.

McCoy ran his fingers through Spock's chest hair.

"I don't think anyone can forget his first love, Spock," he murmured

"One can if one applies Vulcan discipline and wants to badly enough."

"Do you?"

Spock looked down at the man he held, brushed a lock of hair from McCoy's forehead and considered his good fortune. "Yes. I do."

McCoy was too sleepy to pursue this train of thought. "What did you think of _Skolta_?" he asked changing the subject.

"The play, the performance or the man?"

"The play."

"I think Ling has blown a minor incident of dubious authenticity completely out of proportion for trivial reasons."

"Which are?"

"Homosexuality is frowned upon in Vulcan society; it is illogical and also an affront to the Matriarchy. The Talljets are all homosexual and chafed under Vulcan social structure."

"And yet you and Maja were lovers," McCoy woke up a little.

"It is frowned upon but not forbidden. Vulcan has many same sex couples but they are very discreet. Ostracism is an unpleasant form of punishment for transgressions of Surakian law."

"Is that why they don't live there, then?"

"Partly. They also discovered they had limited access to the larger Federation society due to their status as dangerous aliens. The most serious discrimination was against Hobie: he was denied entrance to Star Fleet Academy even though he scored perfectly on all the entrance exams."

"Why was he denied?"

"Telepathy. Did you not notice Jir reading you this evening? How would that fit on a starship?"

"Might be nice once you got used to it." Like many things he could, but chose not, to name.

"Your opinion was in the minority."

"Why did he want to go to Star Fleet? It's a big Federation, plenty to do in it otherwise."

"He wanted to build starships. He thought he had some new ideas for them. It was his main interest when I met him and continued to be through school. Starships and music." Spock was remembering how beautiful Hobie looked when he thought of his future in Star Fleet and how well he'd hidden his disappointment. It was Maja who'd thrown himself weeping into Spock's arms and told him of Hobie's despair. He pushed it away. 'Forget them, they are beyond you,' he scolded himself.

"Perhaps he did have some new ideas. Jim says the Autonomous Zones' pirate fleets rival the Star Fleet. They lack, however, its cohesion, thank god for small mercies." McCoy gracefully sank into peaceful sleep.

Spock held him, thinking about small mercies and how few of those were bestowed upon the Talljets. And what might have been. He vowed that this would be the last space of time he would wonder what might have been. It was illogical and a pointless waste of time. He would devote himself to what is and what might be. And if a future could be arranged with Dr. Leonard McCoy, he would bring his formidable faculties to bear on that.

He looked at McCoy, sleeping peacefully beside him, and let himself drift off to sleep in the peace and security that there was now another being in the universe to commune with. Now that Maja Talljet was lost to him forever.

* * *

"Captain Kirk, can you explain this?"

James T. Kirk was faced with an enraged Ambassador Martin, gesturing at a huge split vid screen. On one half was the Bharselisian National Theater in flames, rioters and police in pitched battle around it. On the other were Jir and Spock, dancing the night away.

"Explain what, exactly?"

"Why a Star Fleet officer is dancing with that obscene Jira Krinat creature? What in god's name does Commander Spock think he's doing?" Ambassador Martin was dangerously red in the face.

"It is a Western Vulcan Imman as they dance them in Shirkar but Commander Spock appears to have made some innovations in it," came from Ambassador Sdiz, entering, regarding the vid screen with interest. Spock had just pulled Jir close. The Vulcan continued: "In my day we never danced that close to our partner but Spock is rather young and I have never danced with Jira Krinat. Perhaps I would have the same impulse, difficult to know." To the untrained eye, Ambassador Sdiz was deadpan but Kirk detected a current of amusement. "I, too, would like to know why Jir is dancing with Spock."

"He invited us out on the town after the performance."

Kirk was becoming concerned for Ambassador Martin's health.

"I KNOW!" Martin exploded. "You were at that pornographic exhibition! Can you tell me, Captain, why Star Fleet officers, involved in a crucial diplomatic mission would have anything to do with that ... that ...." Ambassador Martin was reduced to helpless stuttering, staggered into a nearby chair.

Kirk hailed the ship: "Send Dr. McCoy down here with his black bag. And have Spock join us as well."

They watched the vid screen in silence until McCoy and Spock arrived. McCoy went straight to the distressed Martin, Spock greeted Kirk and turned to Sdiz: "Live long and prosper, Ambassador Sdiz," accompanied Spock's Vulcan salute.

"Peace and long life, Commander." Sdiz returned the salute. "Something new in the Imman, Spock?" He waved at the vid screen. Everybody looked at it.

"The Bharselisian National Theater burned to the ground, sixty dead in the riots which, somehow, became anti-Federation in nature due to Jir's anti-Federation position and your First Officer is dancing with the monster responsible!" Ambassador Martin was practically shrieking. McCoy hyposprayed him with a sedative, whatever Martin had to do today was going to have to wait.

"You saw the performance, Spock." Sdiz stated conversationally, watching the vid screen loop Spock and Jir.

"Yes."

"I was unable to obtain tickets. How did you get yours?"

"Jir offered us the use of his box."

"And the 25 members of the Enterprise in the Orchestra section?"

"Jir is quite generous, sir." Ambassador Sdiz was very well informed, so Spock asked: "What now for Jir, Ambassador?"

"He and his company are being deported."

"I wonder if they'll need transport?" Kirk put in.

"I believe the Sultan of Orissa's fleet has undertaken their transport."

Spock arched an eyebrow but quickly got himself back under control: "And the riots have been quelled?"

"Which one? The one Jir's performance started at the Theater or the one you and Jir started at the cafe? Both are still raging but the Bharselisian Police project, optimistically, to have order restored by nightfall." The Ambassador paused, "Until then, negotiations are at a stop. Until then the Talljet, Inc.'s mining and cargo ships will continue to load dilithium crystals by the tonne by the hour, round the clock, and there isn't a thing to be done about it."

"Talljet, Inc.?" Kirk looked at the Ambassador.

"Ling Talljet's import export business, very successful, huge merchant fleet, private army when needed, ships as sophisticated as the latest Star Fleet vessel, perhaps more so."

"Why are the riots anti-Federation? I thought membership for Bharselis was a foregone conclusion." McCoy asked.

"They are not so much anti-Federation as anti-Star Fleet in nature. The Bharselisians are not used to receiving peaceful visits by starships due to their previously close association with the Autonomous Zone pirates."

Kirk nodded. Star Fleet gunboats chasing pirate clippers were not welcome anywhere, including Federation space.

His communicator chirped.

"Admiral Jessup, sir."

"Put him through, Uhura."

"Kirk?" Jessup rasped.

"Sir."

"The Enterprise is to leave Bharselisian space within the hour and proceed to sector 72564.32-B." 'Merely the other end of the sector,' Kirk thought coolly. "Your orders are being transmitted as we speak."

"Yes, sir."

"Sorry, Jim, this comes from the very top of the Interplanetary Ministry." Kirk looked at Ambassador Sdiz, who gazed mildly back at him. "A shame for your crew; Bharselis sounds like a good place to let off a little steam on shore leave. I also hear Jir the Dancer's in town. I saw him dance years ago, on Azorieas 4, puts on quite a show, caused a complete riot. Very enjoyable." Kirk glanced at McCoy, who smiled at him. "'Fraid you'll have to miss all that. Jessup out."

"Well. Gentlemen, shall we?" Kirk looked at Ambassador Martin, asleep, and at Ambassador Sdiz, awake, "Ambassador," he nodded, "I trust all will be well in your very capable hands."

"I shall endeavor to reward your trust, Captain," Sdiz remarked dryly, raising his right hand. "Live long and prosper."

"Peace and long life, Ambassador."

* * *

Hobie Talljet stretched in his captain's chair, watching the viewscreen on the bridge of the Tien. Tien means victory in old Klingon. Hobie thought it a good name for his flag ship, a lucky ship and as beautiful as his nephew.

Hobie himself had had and continued to enjoy quite a bit of luck and beauty in this life. He, a classical vulcanoid beauty, and Jir, more in the modern style, were much admired everywhere. Hobie perhaps a little more so.

"How's the Sultan?" he asked in Patois of Jir's image occupying one quarter of the screen.

"Lively for his age."

"Well done, Jir, bravo," Ling opined from another quarter. "Lots and lots of loot in the Orissian system."

"How much longer, Ling?" Hobie asked, looking at the quarter of the screen showing the Bharselisian riots, live and in progress.

"Fifty to seventy-two more Standard hours. The Enterprise has gone, thank god, and the riots are fading away ..."

"We spent good money on agents to whip up those riots and keep them going."

"And we've got our money's worth. Hell, Nolo (elder brother), those riots have lasted 2.65 times longer than projected and nearly got the negotiations called off, not just delayed. The transports are almost at capacity now and will proceed to our processing centers on Rovirin. It's a good haul, Hobie, takes the edge off losing the planet."

Nothing would take the edge off losing the Bharselisian mines but Hobie didn't want to ruin Ling's good mood and was, at the very least, pleased that the Enterprise had gone without a fight. Jir was silent.

They all regarded the fourth image.

"His dancing has improved a bit, dontcha think?" Ling ventured

"Have you shown this to Maja?" Hobie asked.

"No." Jir sighed, "don't plan to. I'll just tell him Spock wants to see him."

"And?"

"I didn't tell Spock where he was."

"And?"

"I told Spock to give it up."

"And?"

"I think he might."

Hobie and Ling exchanged glances.

"Why?" Hobie asked. In general, the brothers deferred to each other based on age, Ling was happy to let Hobie do the talking on this one.

"He's in love with Dr. Leonard McCoy."

Ling's eyebrows went up. Hobie's went down.

"Spock has all the fidelity of a Klingon barracks's whore," he said coldly.

"I disagree, Nolo, I believe he feels as strongly as ever for Maja. He has, however, through contact with Humans or the grace of god developed the capacity to feel a collection of emotional response similar to he what he felt for Maja, for another being. I find it a more appropriate and successful relationship and have encouraged Spock to make the most of it." A Vulcan JD made you nothing if not clear.

Hobie focused on Ling: "You've had sex with Dr. McCoy. What's your opinion?"

"He's made to order for Spock. Godspeed."

Hobie returned to Jir: "You don't think Spock's being used as a cat's paw by the Federation Police and Star Fleet?"

"No, not with his knowledge. Unless he's become a profound liar, which I very much doubt, he was sincere."

"And without his knowledge."

"FedPol and Staflet aren't smart enough to run Spock without his knowledge." Ling shook his head. "The day they get that smart, we'd better find a good place to hide."

"Have you spoken to Maja yet?" Hobie asked.

"No, he's got his shields up, I suspect he's working or working on the Hierophant Kroldt."

The brothers nodded their approval. Maja's relationship with the Hierophant Kroldt afforded a great deal of emotional and material security for them all and their extended families. What it did for Maja was known only to Maja himself.

Jir looked over his shoulder. "Bedtime in the harem, Nolo, do you need me anymore?"

"Well, I always need you, Noli (younger brother)," Hobie smiled at him, "but the Sultan probably needs you more right now. Off with you. Godspeed." He watched fondly as Jir faded and Ling's gentle features filled the screen.

They regarded each other neutrally. Hobie spoke first.

"It's not that I don't believe Jir ..."

"Of course not."

"But I feel his sentimental attachment to that VulCheq colors his discrimination ..."

"Perhaps."

"Perhaps." Hobie paused. "Perhaps someone more neutral should go find out what the fuck he's really up to."

"Since it can't be you, I suppose it's me."

"Or one of your empath whores."

"Not likely. My whores and joyhouses are offlimits to Star Fleet personnel. Besides I'd like to see the happy couple myself." Ling looked down at the viewer on his desk. "The Enterprise is bound for Omega 11 in sector 72564.32-B."

"Whatever for?"

"Personnel and equipment check. There's a Federation research team trying to figure out the local culture."

"How very Federation to send non-telepaths to try to figure out a telepathic non-culture that only bothers with language and bodies just to be polite. That'd make the Vulcan's laugh."

"It will if anyone ever figures it out. Let's hope the Omegans don't decide to join the Federation just to be polite. They're a good source of water in that neighborhood."

"Then be off. Godspeed, Noli."

"Godspeed to you, Nolo."

PART NINE

While appearing to be the mildest and gentlest of the brothers, Ling was the most realistic, logical and hardheaded of them. He knew unspeakable things could happen in this life and that they could be survived. All one needed was to keep moving and jump on the next opportunity. And always watch your back yourself, it was dangerous to think that there would always be someone there to save you.

He was thinking about his brothers and Maja in particular. Maja had been late but not too late getting to Lazroid's lab. But Ling could never convince him of that. Maja was guilt-ridden, all his brothers were guilt ridden about it. And afraid, afraid of seeing a danger too late to prevent it. They had removed Ling's pain but not his fear. That had gone later, when he knew Wilton was dead, when he knew he would survive anything because he had survived the rape.

But Ling knew and knew well that there is nothing you can do about the past but live with it.

His brothers did not have the comfort of such knowledge. They still flailed around, dodging each blow as it came, hoping to be quick enough, smart enough, whatever enough to make a home somewhere somehow.

Ling did not worry. That was illogical. He carried his home within him and his strength was knowing that this too shall pass and if life did not kill you, it made you strong and possibly wise.

In Ling's case it also made him rich. He liked money, he thought it was beautiful, like a river that flows and changes and is never the same river twice. A combination of patience, shrewdness and second sight had accomplished his fortune. Also a certain amount of inside information – he didn't run an empath whorehouse for nothing. His girls not only fulfilled the wildest fantasies of their clients, they also forged a link with them that gave them access to whatever the punter knew. The Bonding, with certain variations and improvements, was one of the many useful things Ling had picked up on Vulcan. Only the richest and most powerful beings could afford Ling's. It was his policy.

Well, it had been a good game for a long time until one of the Federation's human punters got scared and went to Vulcan to see what was wrong with him. He was having strange dreams and hearing voices; an unfortunate side effect of the whore's bonding on the weaker species. A Vulcan healer had undone the intricate ties and alerted the Federation to the dangers of Ling's house. No direct action could be taken since Ling's business was in non-aligned space and therefore unregulated. However, Star Fleet made it off limits to its people and a general warning was issued through the Federation.

This did not concern Ling. He had enough Federation informants and could get more if needed, they were a gullible lot, especially the Terrans. But who needed it? It's a big galaxy, plenty of other rivers to swim in. And so he did.

And now, after all these years, he was going to see SpockDeVulCheq again. How he had idolized Spock on Vulcan. Maja had been in love with him but Ling had had his own crush on him. How disappointing that Spock chose Star Fleet, T'Pring and the code of Surak over the four beings that truly loved him.

'Hochofedra' (ah well, life goes on somehow), Ling mused, shrugging, 'what can you do?'

He nodded to a Minarien trader in his stall just outside the Federation compound on Omega 12. Wherever the Federation set up shop it attracted all sorts of camp followers. They were particularly useful on this planet because the Omegans had given up agriculture several thousand years ago and the Terrans would have starved without food from their ships and the bazaar.

'I wonder what conclusions the Terrans haven't drawn from the lack of definable culture on this planet?' Ling was amused. 'Can't they see superior beings when they are in front of them? I guess not. It'd make the Vulcans laugh.'

He stood in the doorway of the compound where he attracted a great deal of attention. Or rather his clothing did. He was wearing a cobalt blue gown with a wide skirt and three meter train, huge sleeves, tight bodice and a huge and outrageous broad brimmed blue hat trimmed in Trezo feathers.

Ensign Chekov was nonplussed: this was the last thing he'd expected to see on this routine assignment on this dusty, boring planet. Then he wondered how the visitor was going to get his hat through the door. He walked right up to the creature and very politely asked what he could do for him.

'Much,' Ling thought, 'but you'd have to lose the uniform.' However, he said, in Standard: "I'm looking for SpockDeVulCheq."

"There is Mr. Spock, he is our First Officer. Would that be him?" Chekov was polite.

"Tall, ugly, stupid, half-breed Vulcan. Yes, that's him."

"We have no such person! Our Mr. Spock is the finest First Officer in the Fleet." Chekov's blood was up: no one insulted Spock in front of him.

Ling considered: 'Well, Spock, you lucky lucky lucky dog, you, so at least someone in the galaxy loves you a little. How nice for it to be this pretty child.' He suppressed an urge to brush the dark brown hair off Chekov's creamy brow and said at the top of his voice: "Well, since he's already paid for the blow job, he should either get it or give it away. I'm a busy man, I don't have time to stand here chatting with you, how ever pleasant that might be."

"GYHARINE!" Dr. McCoy had just caught sight of Ling. Chekov took the opportunity to flee and leave this situation to his shipmate.

The traders looked up in shock and surprise. Gyharine means 'boy for sale' in the Patois and was never shouted outside of the pleasure districts and rarely there.

"LEONARD!" Ling flung himself into McCoy's outstretched arms.

"Whatever are you doing here, Gyharine?" The traders were completely horrified by the Terran's cultural faux pas and his obliviousness to it.

"Ah, well, listen Leonard, you're scaring the horses and the traders. Maybe you'd better call me by my real name."

"Which is?"

"Ling Talljet."

McCoy took a startled step backward and then whispered: "I thought your name was Ghy ..."

"Well, it was, sometimes. But I'm rather out of that line of work these days."

"I'm not sure I understand."

"Leonard," Ling chuckled and lowered his voice as well as his eyes, "'gyharine' means 'boy for sale' and is what the pimps call from the whorehouses to attract business." He raised his big brown eyes to McCoy's embarrassed blue ones.

"But, anyway, so what?" Ling continued brightly, "I've spoken to Jir. I'm so pleased for you, Leonard."

McCoy noticed Kirk and Spock coming into the courtyard. He had a bad feeling about what Ling's next words might be.

"It's too wonderful about you and Ssssmmmm ... !" whatever word Ling's lips were trying to form was snuffed out by McCoy's lips on them.

'Well, this is interesting,' Ling was thinking, 'I guess it's a big secret. Jir should tell me these things so I don't wreck the party. This is a nice kiss. I remember that, he kissed well, and makes love well, too. I hope Spock appreciates this one, he can be so blind sometimes.'

Kirk and Spock exchanged puzzled looks.

'Why is McCoy kissing this outrageous creature?' Kirk was thinking.

'Why is Ling Talljet here?' Spock wondered. 'And why is Leonard kissing him?'

McCoy and Ling finally broke their clinch, both a little breathless. Ling looked at Spock and formed his hand in the Vulcan salute: "Live long and prosper, SpockDeVulCheq."

"Peace and long life, Ling Talljet," Spock returned, his hand a mirror of Ling's. "What brings you here?"

"You."

Kirk cleared his throat.

"Ling, this is Captain Kirk of the Enterprise," McCoy put in helpfully.

Kirk inclined his head: "You didn't happen to come here in the barge currently in orbit, did you?" Kirk smiled affably, studying the youngest Talljet.

"How else would I have got here? My broom's in the shop right now." Ling snapped. He had a low opinion of KirkaFara. He considered him pompous and arrogant and lucky. ('Luck is for rabbits' was Ling's opinion.) And heterosexual, therefore useless to Ling. And blond, Ling didn't have much use for blondes either.

"Ling," Spock admonished.

"Well, raaaather, Spock, it's logical. There are two ships in orbit now, yours and mine. There are only a handful of beings on this planet, therefore, if I wasn't here when you arrived I could only logically come from the other ship in orbit." Ling was exasperated; was Spock so deep into these idiots he couldn't see an idiotic statement when one jumped up and bit him on the ass?

They were all silent.

"Why have you come to see me, Ling?" Spock said at last.

"Well, you've broken your silence so I thought I'd come say hello." Ling was looking innocent.

Spock remembered this look from Vulcan, it usually meant Ling was telling the truth, sideways, to distract his audience.

"I recall it differently, Ling, it was you and your brothers who were silent."

"Well, I answered your letters."

"Only to ask that I stop writing them."

"It's still an answer."

"Indeed."

They were silent again. Ling was listening to the silence. Spock had his shields up, way up, but the Terrans were sending lots of messages and all of them good news.

Jir was right: this was a new and improved SpockDeVulCheq. He was in love with McCoy. Ling had that from McCoy's memory and it showed on them. The subtle energy convergence of love between two people was visible in their telefields. Kirk was oblivious to it. Ling supposed this was a good thing due to the uptight regulations that governed Star Fleet.

He read further from Kirk that they had been in deep space for a long time. If Spock was a FedPol spy he was a useless one in the quadrants they had been in these past few years. Kirk had a high opinion of the Vulcan but did not understand the full magnitude of Spock's complexity. He had been touched by Spock's loyalty to Pike but had not understood the underlying, deeply suppressed irrational passion that motivated Spock's action. The same deeply suppressed irrational passion that caused Spock to seduce and abandon Maja, defy his father, family and culture, flee Vulcan, and kept the Spock-watching Talljets on the edge of their seats. What wild and crazy thing will he do next? Jir and Ling wondered. Maja never mentioned Spock's name, or very very rarely. He never seemed to wonder about him and rudely cut off conversations about him. He had pushed his feelings for Spock so far away not even he could see them anymore.

Hobie was still angry with Spock and impatient of any discussion. He did, however, keep track of him as he considered him a potential but undefined danger.

McCoy was unsure what should happen next as Ling and Spock seemed to have reached the end of their conversation. Kirk was deciding whether they should offer him refreshment or order him back to his ship and out of orbit.

"Can we offer you something to drink, Mr. Talljet?" Kirk finally said.

"Oh, call me Ling!" Ling cried pleasantly. "Yes, indeed, it's awfully hot out here. Only fit for Vulcans, you know?"

They repaired to the kitchen of the station. Ling had to take off his hat to get inside. His black curls spilled down his back and over his shoulders like waterfall. McCoy took a moment to admire this, but just a moment because Spock had an odd look in his eye.

"So, Spock, how's your mother?"

"She is well. How are the Sa's?"

"They are enflamed by the discovery of the ancient Borillian texts. They can talk about nothing else except the development of Borillian from this source. They say it clears up many contradictions that have plagued them for years." He paused, smiled, thinking fondly of those old men and their linguistic manias. "I wish I could find something to make me that happy all at once." He looked at Spock. "And you? How are you?"

"Well."

"And has Star Fleet turned out to be everything you wanted, Spock?"

"Mostly, yes."

"Well, that's good. One should have what one wants in this life."

"That is open to interpretation, Ling."

"Perhaps. I can only refer to those who seek happiness, which is elusive but worthwhile."

Ling smiled at the humans, trying to draw them into the conversation.

"Yes, I would agree with you," McCoy put in politely.

Kirk smiled and sipped his tea. He was not enjoying Ling as much as he'd enjoyed Jir. However, he rose to the occasion: "I enjoyed your play, _Skolta_," he said pleasantly.

"The play or the performance?" Ling asked; he did love to be complimented.

"Both. I wonder at your dislike of Vulcan culture. It's very well thought of in the Federation."

Spock had a sinking feeling but Ling, sensing this, came to his rescue.

"It's a .. challenging place for ... unusual people to live," Ling said, hunting for the least offensive words he knew. "Post-Reform Vulcan culture has very little room in it for differences or deviation. One either lives by the laws of Surak or one is marginalized into non-existence. The Vulcans have traded intolerance and violence for intolerance and ostracism. And all under the cover of logic which is much maligned by their use of it."

"They have been very successful."

"Oh, I agree, but we will never know what might have been and what might yet be. I'm all for logic and use it myself now and again, but sometimes it's necessary to jump over it and into faith, love, passion, etc. All those wonderful things the Vulcans eschew in the name of a quiet life."

"And what's wrong with a quiet life?" Kirk smiled.

"You tell me, Fara. Why haven't you had one?" He smiled back, charming, sweet Ling. "Or you, Leonard, why are you light years away from home, risking your life, seeing wonders you've never dreamed of?" He gestured toward Spock with his chin. "It's not logical."

The humans laughed.

"No, it's not. But wouldn't the Vulcans have killed themselves without logic?" Kirk asked.

"I doubt it. They hadn't the technology for mass destruction and the little acknowledged truth was that the warlords were forming political alliances and the planet might have entered a feudal period similar to what you had on Terra. The social structure was developing along a line where the strong ruled but valued intelligence and other useful aspects in the weak. Intelligence, beauty, spirituality, artistic talent, even logic of all things, were beginning to assert themselves as tenable positions from which to bargain for power. Surak swept all that away with Skolta's execution and the creation of the Surakian dictatorship. The fact that the first logical action of the unchallenged victor was of violence and not compassion is the make or break in Vulcan history. Its message was that resistance was futile and would not be tolerated."

"History is full of terrible 'if's', Ling." Kirk was warming up to him.

"Yes, but it's fun to wonder. And I further wonder if the Vulcans will ever jump over the logic walls they've built and do god knows what."

"I've no quarrel with Vulcans the way they are," McCoy commented.

"Have you lived there?" Ling asked, smiling.

"No."

"Try it sometime. It will astonish you just how many shades of beige there are in the universe."

"Ling," Spock said firmly, "Vulcan has a varied and satisfying culture. You are not giving it its due."

"Then why don't you live there?"

Spock was silent for a moment but then said: "I prefer a less predictable existence."

"And bravo, Spock! Me, too. Let's leave Vulcan to those who enjoy a quiet life. It's a big galaxy, life and adventure enough for all." Ling flashed a happy smile that lit up the room and rose. "I must be on my way. Nice to see you again, Spock. Nice to meet you, Captain."

He turned and took McCoy by the shoulders: "And, Leonard, how wonderful to meet again. I wish you well, in all, and I do mean all, your endeavors." Ling gave him a pat, bowed, collected his hat and left.

The three stood looking after his retreating form.

"So that's Ling Talljet." Kirk muttered. He turned to McCoy. "And how do you know him?"

"I didn't know I knew him. He had a different name when I, ah, spent some time with him years and years ago."

"He's very charming." Kirk teased McCoy.

"Once he warms up to you, yes," McCoy commented, thinking that Ling was not as beautiful as Jir but was so warm and loving it didn't matter.

Spock was thinking that Ling was more like Maja, plain but his presence was strong, warm and comforting. Like looking at the moon over water. He pushed aside a stray longing for Maja. 'That is gone forever,' he reminded himself.

"I must return to my duties, if you will excuse me." He walked away, farther into the building.

"Yes, let's wrap this up and get outta here." Kirk moved off.

McCoy stood a moment longer, thinking of Ling and the impression he left in the air. Then he shook himself out of his reverie and went back to work.

* * *

Ling returned to his barge and gave the order to leave orbit. He retired to his office to think over the past, present and future before contacting Hobie.

About the past: Why had he seduced McCoy on that afternoon long ago? It wasn't just boredom and a challenge; he'd read McCoy as strictly heterosexual but it was more than that. Second sight perhaps, acquiring knowledge but not knowing why until it became useful.

'McCoy is perfect for Spock,' he thought, 'compassionate, loving, patient when necessary, fiery more often. They love science, both feel rather lost. How lucky they have found each other in all this miraculous creation.'

But there are no accidents, Ling reminded himself, and here was yet more proof that there must be a god to so neatly free Spock from Maja and Maja from Spock.

'Maja will be pleased to know that Spock has learned to recognize love and return it,' Ling mused. 'Too late for us Talljets but, hochofedra,' he shrugged mentally, 'better late than never.'

As to the present: All was well. Spock wasn't a FedPol or Staflet agent. He was never anywhere near the Talljets until lately and that was only to free himself of them.

You must make peace with the past to embrace the future, as the saying went. 'Wise,' Ling thought. 'Godspeed.'

And the future: It was a mystery as usual but the general feeling was good. Intergalactic relations were stable so not much chance of a war smashing things up. The Federation was slowing its diplomatic forays into non-aligned space. Rumor was that an isolationist movement on Terra was creating enough political tension to keep the diplomats home. Probably a good thing if they had more idiots like Ambassador Martin. So, hopefully, Rovirin would not become a bone in a dogfight between the Federation, the Klingon Empire and the Talljets.

Another few years in peace there, Lord, that's all we ask, Ling prayed.

The comm line on his desk rang. Hobie was patient for only so long: "Well?"

"We have nothing to fear from SpockDeVulCheq."

"And from his Captain and his ship?"

"No, they are adventurers, not cops."

Hobie studied his brother for a moment: "How is he?"

"He is well, Nolo, he has learned to love and be loved. He is making his own way in his own SpockDeVulCheq way. We are part of his past and he is putting it behind him, saying good-bye to all that."

"Good bye to all what, Ling?" Hobie was puzzled by the fondness in his brother for the VulCheq.

"All the suffering on Vulcan."

"I don't remember Spock doing much suffering," Hobie said sharply.

"But he did. We all did. We had feelings and sensibilities the Vulcans, friend and foe alike, simply could not fathom. We thought we were mad or defective or cursed, remember? Until we got shut of that place and discovered ..."

"That it's a big galaxy and there is a place for everyone in it," Hobie finished impatiently. He suddenly wanted to see the 'new Spock' for himself but knew it was impossible.

"Exactly." Ling laughed, "I wish him all the best."

"What will you tell Maja?" Hobie asked.

"That he, like us, has found his place in this life and is at peace."

Hobie nodded. It was exactly what Maja had wanted for Spock, even if it meant never seeing him again.

Hobie, on the other hand, wanted Spock to rot in hell forever but refrained from mentioning it. So instead he said: "Hochofedra, Noli," he shrugged. "And McCoy? I looked him up, he won't win any beauty contests. What draws Spock to him?"

"His soul and heart draw Spock, as they drew me."

"That's saying a lot, Ling." Now Hobie wanted to meet McCoy, but that was also impossible. He began to envy his younger brothers a little but pushed it aside and said: "Will Spock stick with him?"

"I hope so. He's still bonded to T'Pring or still was last time I was on Vulcan." Ling was quite frequently on Vulcan to look after the old Sa's and their interests. He numbered T'Pring, warts and all, among his many friends.

"Ah, yes, The Thing. How is the old girl?"

"Oh, same. You could chip dilithium crystals on her. Maybe she'll veer off on her own. She's going to like the new Spock even less than the old Spock."

"I wouldn't put money on that but we'll see. Shouldn't he have Pon Farred by now?"

"I guess, but who knows? Maybe he won't. That Terran blood is hard to predict."

They nodded in silence at each other, knowing very well how unpredictable SpockDeVulCheq was.

"Well. So much for the Spock news. Where're ye bound, little brother?"

"My 'house'. I've been neglecting the girls, you know how they miss me, and business." Ling's 'house' also contained the Talljet Inc. offices.

"Someday you outta shake dem whores and get respectable." Hobie teased.

"That would be disloyal and ungallant." Ling said with mock seriousness, "They're my team."

"Yes. Indeed." Hobie smiled one of his rare smiles. "Farewell, Ling, all my love."

"All my love, Hobie."

PART TEN

Dr. McCoy was surprised to see Mr. Spock walk into his quarters the evening of their return from Omega 11.

He'd called 'come' at the door signal assuming it was Jim wanting to chat. He was pleased and curious to see Spock. The Vulcan definitely had something on his mind and got right down to it: "It was my understanding that you had no previous sexual experience with men, Doctor."

McCoy frowned. 'Is Spock jealous? What a frightening thought. Nonsense, impossible.' He pulled himself together and smiled at the memory of Ling so long ago.

"Oh, Ling. I never considered that a sexual experience. It was more of a religious experience."

Spock sat down next to him: "Explain."

McCoy sighed, he disliked talking about this part of his life:

"My father had recently died and I was very depressed. I was drinking non stop and fucking everything female that moved."

Spock steepled his fingers over his chest. McCoy continued:

"One afternoon a young man came up to me and told me I had lovely blue eyes, what a shame they were so bloodshot."

Spock had had the same thought once or twice himself but did not mention it. McCoy continued:

"I was pretty smashed and ready for a fight. I turned to hit him but when I looked into those eyes... I can't really explain it. I felt more peace of mind than I'd felt in weeks. I felt like I could look into those eyes forever."

Spock had had the same experience with Maja. He and Ling were not beauties but such beauty shone from within them they captivated all they chose to bestow it upon. Spock was wondering why Ling had chosen McCoy. Had McCoy's suffering been so great Ling's compassionate nature could not ignore it? Or had Ling seen at a glance what Spock had almost died before seeing? McCoy's loving, accepting nature and wonder at the galaxy around him. He therefore listened with great attention as McCoy continued:

"He paid my tab and took me to his room. A very simple room, I remember, temporary. We sat at his table, like we are, and he made me tea. He asked me what made me so sad and I told him. I told him my whole life, things I never told anyone, things I didn't even know myself until I started telling him. And he just listened. I felt like for the first time in my life someone knew everything, understood everything and loved me for it, not in spite of it.

"When I was done telling my story, I cried. I don't know if it was from joy or sadness or just from being empty for the first time in my life, nothing held in. He held me, rocked me. I hadn't felt so safe since I was a child and never since then, not like that.

"I think we had sex. I remember feeling sexual release but I don't remember the act itself. Whatever it was, it was not what you and I do."

Spock was divided. On one side he was strangely relieved to know Leonard had not had sex, as they knew it, with Ling, on the other, he was disturbed that Ling and probably his brothers had such thorough and intimate knowledge of his Leonard in their communal memory.

"When did this occur?" he asked flatly.

"Eight or so years ago." McCoy smiled at his lover.

"Where?"

"Kirlentis 6."

Spock's eyes widened. Kirlentis 6, eight or so years ago, had been a remote, teeming, violent, disease-ridden den of iniquity. What was McCoy doing there?

McCoy sensed the question.

"I went to a remote nursing station on Kirlentis 6 to take my mind off certain unpleasant events that had recently occurred on Terra." (His divorce, his father's death, his sisters' panic over it and the continual, now exacerbated by his father's death, shortage of money. Kirlentis 6 had been a relief.) "They needed an MD, I needed to get off Terra, it was perfect. I was only there for three months, Spock," he added, seeing Spock's concern.

Spock nodded, wondering what else he didn't know about McCoy. He decided to think about that tomorrow.

His curiosity sated, Spock picked up McCoy's hand from where it lay on the table between them and pressed his lips to the palm. His touch communicated all the pleasure he had in simply being here with McCoy.

McCoy understood. He gazed back at him with love, trust, admiration, contentment; all the things the lovers had grown between themselves over the months since the relationship began.

"I can turn up the heat if you're stayin', Spock," McCoy smiled.

"Yes, please." Spock reluctantly released his hand but he was pleased that McCoy wanted him to stay and that the heat was to increase; he was chilly.

But not for long. McCoy came back from the thermostat and stood before him. Spock reached for him and laid his head on the doctor's belly, wrapping his arms around his waist, pulled him close.

McCoy ran his fingers through the jet silk hair and caressed the broad shoulders.

'How tender this Vulcan can be,' he thought. 'm I the only one who sees it?'

Spock shook himself and stood. He looked into the gentle blue eyes and saw desire there, desire only for him. It was a gift beyond price. He softly stroked McCoy's cheek.

"Come to bed," Spock murmured.

"Yes. Yes."

McCoy leaned against Spock and let himself be guided to the bed. He pulled off his clothes and tossed them in a heap. He slipped into bed to watch Spock methodically undress and neatly fold his clothes. It was part of their ritual, it set the peaceful tempo of lovemaking they enjoyed. Otherwise McCoy would rip off their clothes and fling himself on Spock and it would all be over in ten minutes. This way, Spock's way, was eminently satisfying once McCoy had surrendered to the fact that this was the only way it was going to be. He didn't mind at all. Especially since Spock did, just for contrast, occasionally indulge him and allow him to rip off their clothes, fling himself on him and it was over in ten minutes.

This evening, however, would be longer than ten minutes. McCoy shivered with anticipation of pleasure.

"Are you cold, Leonard?" Spock, slipping into bed, pulled him against his warm, furry chest and ran his warm hands over his back and buttocks.

"More turned on than cold, Spock."

"Indeed." Spock cupped McCoy's ass in his hands and pulled him closer, pressing their erections together. He made no further comment.

McCoy kissed him. Sweetly, deeply, slowly, coaxing Spock's tongue to come play on his lips and in his mouth.

Spock obliged him and then some. He held McCoy even closer, deepening the kiss, savoring it, surrendering to it.

McCoy broke the kiss, panting with lust and lack of oxygen. Spock leaned in to nuzzle his neck and ears, rolling onto his back and pulling the doctor astride him.

McCoy leaned down to rub noses; something that always pleased and puzzled Spock. It was an intimate gesture but not passionate. McCoy began to move down Spock's body, lightly kissing and biting his way down to his lover's hard cock.

Upon reaching his goal, McCoy ran his tongue lightly around the head. Spock spread his legs to give him better access to his erection. McCoy played his lips around the head, bobbing up and down as far as he could, running his tongue over the sensitive underside.

Spock was enjoying this, he was practically purring, running his fingers through McCoy's thick brown hair. McCoy moved to bathe the shaft with his tongue and fondle the Vulcan's testicles. So lost in the sensation of giving and receiving pleasure, they could have gone on like this all night. However, Spock's active nature asserted itself and he pulled the doctor up into his arms, lightly playing kisses over his lips and cheeks.

"I want to be inside you," he murmured between pecks.

"I want you to be inside me," McCoy was breathless, wanting union.

Spock smiled mentally and rolled on top of McCoy, spreading his legs with his knees. He reached for the lubricant they kept in the bedside table and laid it on the bed beside McCoy.

This always pleased McCoy: it meant that Spock was not in a hurry.

Obviously not. Spock ran his hard pointed tongue down the doctor's chest, bathing each nipple in turn, lightly biting and sucking them. This made McCoy arch against him, rubbing his cock against the furry belly that rubbed him back.

Spock moved lower, bouncing his tongue over the doctor's ribs and belly to his hips. He rubbed his smooth cheeks over the hard rosy cock before sliding his lips up and down the shaft in a maddening but delightful manner.

McCoy gasped when Spock swallowed his cock to the root. Much as he enjoyed it, the sensation was always somewhat shocking to the doctor.

Spock moved up the shaft to slide his tongue sinuously around the velvety head and reached for the tube of lubricant. He squeezed a generous amount onto his fingers, swallowed McCoy's cock again thus causing the doctor to arch, slipped his well oiled digits between the round cheeks and waited for the descent.

McCoy was all sensation by this time and feeling Spock's fingers on his anus was almost enough to make him come. Spock, sensing this, was very still, waiting for the doctor to return from the edge.

McCoy, with great effort, pulled himself off the brink and lowered his hips very slowly onto Spock's hot finger. It was so sexy to feel even this much of Spock inside him.

Spock slipped in another finger, readying him, and moved lower to make love to McCoy's scrotum. He very thoroughly bathed the sack, sucking on each testicle in turn and then both. He pumped and stretched McCoy with three fingers while doing so.

This was driving the doctor wild: "Spock, I don't think I can last much longer," he panted.

Spock let the taut sack slip from his mouth and withdrew his fingers. He, too, was ready.

He pulled a pillow under the doctor's hips, spreading his legs a little wider and then put lubricant on his own cock. Noticing he had McCoy's full attention, he did this slowly, winding it out, teasing his lover, stroking himself a little higher, driving the doctor wild.

McCoy was beyond ready and let Spock know by tilting his hips up bumping his knees against the Vulcan's flank impatiently.

Spock caught hold of those impatient knees and rolled McCoy forward. He centered his slippery cockhead and pressed in gently.

McCoy groaned with pleasure and surrender, arching to meet Spock's intimate, welcome invasion.

Spock groaned mentally with pleasure, slid slowly all the way in and paused, propped on his strong arms, to catch his breath.

McCoy ran his hands up the strong Vulcan arms, marveling at the smooth skin over powerful muscle. It made him shiver to feel such strength being so tender toward him.

"Cold, Leonard?" Spock lowered himself and pressed his warm body against the doctor, his arms around his back, holding him tight.

"No," he whispered, stroking Spock's back and shoulders. "I'm ... just havin' a good time."

"Indeed?" Spock almost smiled and began to fuck his lover in his usual precise and rhythmic fashion.

McCoy was content to lie back and be fucked but eventually he began to thrust up to meet Spock's long strokes. He rubbed his cock against the Vulcan belly and thrashed each time Spock's cock caressed his prostate.

They were swept up in pleasure and moving as one. So intent on climax, of one mind, that when it came they both lay shuddering with release and rapture.

Spock roused himself off the doctor and lay on his back. After a moment, McCoy rolled onto his side and looked at his flushed, lightly panting lover. He his ran hand over one powerful pectoral, a hard nipple and onto the furry belly. He'd intended to go lower but Spock caught his hand and drew it across his chest, pulling McCoy into his arms and settling his head on his shoulder.

"Had enough?" McCoy queried.

"For now," Spock brushed some brown hair out of the way and kissed his forehead. "Have you dined?"

"On food?" McCoy couldn't resist. Spock did not honor it with a reply. McCoy snuggled a little closer, enjoying the warm body while he could. "Actually, no, I haven't dined. I was just thinking about it when you showed up and one thing led to another." He looked at the Vulcan, "Have you dined, Spock?"

"No, but I would like to very soon."

"Well, then let's shower and go eat. I'm hungry."

"Yes."

PART 11

Master Khat had had enough. He threw down his brush and stormed past his adopted son, Tien Gozshedrefreingin baMajaKhat, and out of his studio: "STOP SINGING THAT FUCKING HYMN RIGHT NOW!"

The commune froze. Master Ghet and his middle son, Hraja Gozshedrefreingin baMajaKhat, exchanged looks.

"I believe Master Khat is struggling with his subject as much as we, Master," Hraja said, brushing his blond curls off his subtly ridged brow.

"Perhaps finding a subject for a Klingonaphile mural is more challenge than struggle, being that your father likes Klingons so little." Master Ghet could be maddeningly serene in the face of another's turmoil.

Hraja nodded. The Klingon Cathedral they were building was to be decorated inside with murals depicting Klingon virtues: honor, fidelity, strength and whatever else they could think up.

As to honor and fidelity, MajaKhat had not seen much of it in Klingons. His mother was the Romulan Emperor's youngest daughter and had been married to the Klingon Emperor's youngest son, Kvortine. A dynastic marriage of great consequence between individuals of little consequence. It was, however, a step toward solidarity between the two martial empires and afforded them a year or so of peace. It was Princess Malira's mixed fortune to be pregnant with Maja when resurgent tensions between the empires caused such anti-Rom feeling in Klingon society that Roms were murdered in the streets. Because the Klingon code forbids killing pregnant women and unborn children (they, however, are fair game after the birth) Malira was merely imprisoned. Romaphiles General ShranHaat and Professor AtaKhat spirited her away, with the aid of young Captain KzostGhet, his crew and ship, to the Khat's home on Yzorfiraina, a distant planet where the unfashionable Khats now lived. Long ago they had been the imperial family but as they preferred art and knowledge to force, they had seen the wisdom in yielding to the Tzaj clan and their vassals, the Haats and Yhets.

Exile was preferable to death but the Khats did like to slap the Tzajs when they thought they could and rescuing poor Malira (her father had made only a token protest over his daughter's mistreatment), adopting her child and giving her a safe and happy home was perfect, just perfect.

Princess Malira was a lady of great refinement. In addition to being able to run a household, hunt and organize an attack on a fortified position, she was a very skilled stone and metal sculptress, ceramist and painter. She was a welcome addition to the Khat clan, which had become somewhat effete and needed shaking up. Ata's brother, BorlaKhat, was delighted with his bride and adopted son, Maja, once he realized that 'yes, dear' was all the conversation his Malira required. They managed to have eight children somehow.

So the newly named Maja baBorlaKhat grew up in peace and security, far from the turmoil and intrigue of the Klingon court. He learned art and survival from his mother and everything else from the Khats, whose company he actually preferred to his intense and bitter mama.

MajaKhat had inherited his mother's rare blond hair, jet brows and lashes and his father's Klingon build. He wore his wavy blond locks long over his brow to cover the small Klingon ridges and high Rom eyebrows because the former offended the commune and the latter offended their Klingon masters. He wore his hair long to cover his pointed Rom ears and had an easy grace, surprising to see in the usual massive Klingon physique. Both sexes swooned over him but his preference was for women. Being raised by the Khat's had encouraged his gentle, thoughtful nature and made him a careful scholar and artist. Aside from the one time he'd contradicted his mother, he had a very peaceful and happy childhood once he learned that 'yes, mother' was all the conversation that fine lady required of her children. He loved his brothers and sisters and rampaged over the decrepit estate and grounds in their own little tribe. It was hard on the shrubbery but the Khats could live with it. The lineage of the possible heir to the Rom and Klingon Imperial thrones was soon forgotten and he merely became another happy, mud covered, mixed breed child romping across the lawn.

And Klingon strength: MajaKhat had only seen it used against the people he loved. No help there.

Now, many years later and on far away Rovirin, Master Khat's other adopted son and Master Ghet's youngest son, Farro Gozshedrefreingin baMajaKhat, looked up from the bronze model in his hands and at his adopted father: "Thank the infinite mercy of the unknowable mind of god. What shall we sing?" asked the dark little vulcanoid.

Master Khat smiled at his youngest child, Farro could be counted on to say what was on his mind. He thought for a moment: "Sing that love song we learned from the Hijiria singer." He swept back into his studio and confronted his blank canvas. Klingon virtues: he was not a miniaturist.

Profound lyrics and funeral melodies were replaced with inane couplets and a catchy little tune.

'What a relief,' thought Master Ghet, joining in, 'thank the unknowable mind of god the Hierophant Kroldt left this morning and we can stop being so fucking religious.'

As to fucking religious leaders, GozineGhet was all for it. The Hierophant Kroldt was quite a catch for a simple priest such as Gozine was when they met. Much of the success of the commune was due to the opportunities his powerful lover had made available to them. Their continued success was due to the brilliance of Masters Ghet and Khat and the design Masters Whilla and Pzchaz and to all the hard working, art loving artisans of the Gozshedrefreingin Commune. Kroldt and the Haat clan's patronage protected the commune from being preyed upon by powerful Klingons hunting concubines or other slaves.

For slaves they were, however, such valuable slaves that their safety and well being was of tantamount concern for the Hierophant and the Haats.

The dominant power structure of Klingon culture was not conducive to art and beauty, being too busy with war and intrigue. For centuries whatever artistic accomplishment the empire enjoyed had come from the religious communes which had begun their existence as prisons for misfits, mixed breeds, orphans, bastards, cripples, malcontents and other undesirables, including real criminals. Having nothing else to do, the prisoners made their cage as beautiful as possible and developed a practical philosophy that beauty and captivity were not incompatible. After all, they had nothing else to do so might as well spruce the joint up. The Klingon saint, Uuzsta, had sacrificed himself to bring religion to the prisons, which didn't have much use for it but knew a good thing when they saw it. Uuzsta, no fool himself, also knew a good thing when he saw it and for the greater glory of the most Holy Klingon Imperial Church and the more lasting spread of Klingon culture (blasters, alas, only got you so far) brought the prisons, now called communes, under the powerful protection of the Most Holy Klingon Supreme Religious Leader.

The Most Holy Klingon Supreme Religious Leader was as useless as the Emperor. The seven Hierophants ran the Church and occasionally the Empire when necessary. The twenty-one Meta-Primates were responsible for where and how the twenty-one communes were employed (to the greater glory, etc.) and this gave them a great deal of power in the outer reaches of the Empire where the communes were most frequently sent to build the infrastructure.

Building infrastructure suited the communes down to the ground. It gave them as much autonomy as they could want, money and power, as long as they played their cards right and didn't offend their Meta-Primate, his Hierophant and their patron clan. This was not onerous, the main language of the communes was the Magidrian Patois, they could express themselves as freely as they wished. It was perfect for everyone.

Saint Uuzsta had formulated the ranks of Apprentice, Journeyman and Master within the commune. All members of the commune received religious training in addition to artistic training and upon attaining the level of Journeyman were required to take vows in the novitiate and assist the Masters in religious ceremony when called upon. This was seldom since they were so remote from the main Klingon population, however, if a warship was nearby and the needed ceremony for a religious holiday it was the commune's duty to provide it.

Because the communes lived in remote and unsettled areas they were allowed to bear arms and train in martial arts. They were very good at martial arts due to the type of people that were in the original prisons. The comunists therefore had extensive training, which was handed down through the generations.

Lastly, because they were slaves they were tattooed as property but with a difference. On the back of the right hand was the rune in ancient church Klingon for the name of the commune, on the left was the name of the slave. Journeymen added a thick line beneath their name to indicate their accomplishment, Masters added a thick line at the top to indicate the same. On the palms were tattooed the runes for their accomplishments in the arts, sciences and martial arts. This allowed everyone to know what the artisan was qualified to do and saved a great deal of time and squabbling when two communes occasionally worked together on a project. It also allowed the Klingon warriors that interacted with the commune to know the level of martial skill the artisan possessed and what kind of tussle they could expect. Know your friends as well as enemies and keep an eye on your slaves was a Klingon motto. Klingons hated surprises.

The traditional commune greeting to outsiders was one of submission: hands were crossed at the wrists at waist level, palms down and then turned over face up to show all the runes to the visitor. The hands remained in this position until the visitor had seen all that was wanted and released the artisan with a nod. The communists were happy to have few visitors; they were busy people and had things to do.

The usual commune greeting amongst themselves was a thump on the chest and a bearhug. In this tight knit telepathic Patois speaking community physicality and deep loving bonds were to be reveled in and hidden from outsiders. But obscurity and Patois guaranteed that.

The commune system produced the occasional saint but not too often so nobody felt threatened and life was beautiful.

It was not unusual for ranking religious and military Klingons to take lovers in the communes in return for their patronage and protection. It was unusual for one of the seven Hierophants to take a Journeyman sculptor into keeping, make him a Master and bestow the most desirable projects on the Commune. But there it was and the Gozshedrefreingin Commune had no trouble living up to the reputation they had built for themselves.

Kroldt had seen GozineGhet, formerly Maja Talljet, assisting his sculpture Master, NvartTehn, in a ceremony just before the consecration of cathedral on Pzort 7. He had come to perform the consecration himself to firmly establish this planet as being in the Kroldt/Haat sphere of influence. He'd no idea he'd fall in love with the willowy youth holding an incense vessel at MasterTehn's side.

That evening Gozine was summoned to the Hierophant's bedroom in the Bishop's palace, also constructed by the Commune. MajaKhat, Whilla and Pzchaz had watched him go with concern; he was deeply loved in the Commune.

Gozine himself was unconcerned. He had made enough eye contact with Kroldt in the church to know that a) this was an incredibly powerful Klingon, b) that Kroldt was more than sexually interested, and c) like all Klingons, this one could be wrapped around Gozine's MageCheq finger in an instant. So off he went, ready to conquer by being conquered for the greater glory of the Gozshedrefreingin commune and the Talljets.

Gozine did not possess great beauty but his peaceful soul shone from beautiful eyes and his graceful presence more than eclipsed his plain, regular features. Those fortunate enough or powerful enough to be his lovers were consumed by being in the presence of great soul beauty that decay would never touch. Because of his plainness he was not passed from Klingon to Klingon as were the great beauties (who often wore veils in the Commune) and so he was able to concentrate on seducing only useful or interesting Klingons.

He considered the Hierophant supremely useful and looked forward to making love to him. Or more accurately, reading him while making love to him.

So Gozine was pleased to see the wide bed turned down and two glasses of wine beside it. Kroldt seemed nervous because he was. He had no previous experience with men and was beginning to wonder if he should refuse the artisan entry. But he did not and felt calmed by the young novice's presence in his bedroom.

Gozine was at perfect peace, standing in the big room, waiting for the next thing. After a longish silence he ventured: "You asked for me, Hierophant."

Kroldt seemed to wake up: "Ah, yes. I understand you worked the stone with MasterTehn. I find it most impressive and wish to know ..." he trailed off.

Gozine raised his eyebrows encouragingly.

"And wished to know if you will hear my confession." Kroldt finally rapped out.

Gozine gave an inward sigh knowing it was going to be a long night.

"I am not ordained, lord." He lowered his eyes prettily hoping the old fool would make his move and they could get on with it.

"I do not care." Sounded desperate but so what? "Sit over there." Kroldt gestured to a chair farthest from the bed.

Gozine moved to it with more grace than the Klingon had seen in many years and sat.

Kroldt tossed a pillow on the floor beside him and knelt, facing in the opposite direction.

This proximity was actually enough for Gozine to read the Klingon's telefield, they were a poorly shielded species. 'Or perhaps,' he thought, 'it was the attitude of confession that opened his thoughts to him. Perhaps I needn't fuck the old boy to get into his head. Unless I want to, that is.'

The Klingon was silent for a moment longer, collecting his thoughts.

"If you were ordained you would have a veil to wear when hearing a warrior's or member of the Imperial family's confession but not when hearing a fellow priest or communist's."

Gozine nodded, he knew enough to know not to respond until the penitent looked up at him. He felt decidedly odd in this position but was beginning to see its manifold possibilities.

"I have lived my whole life in religion, child. I have devoted myself to the spiritual well-being of my people with my entire heart. I have avoided entanglements as passion clouds the mind and I feel it is my duty to remain unclouded."

'I have never had sex with a man but I want to have sex with you,' Gozine translated mentally.

"I believe the Communes provide opportunities for many pathetic creatures that would otherwise not survive in mainstream Klingon society."

'On the one hand, people will think I've gone mad to go to bed with a Commune boy; on the other, such things are not unheard of.' Gozine translated for himself. He was wondering why this was an issue. Taking lovers in the commune was quite common. He himself had had his share of Klingon warriors, at least they were more straightforward about climbing into bed. 'I wonder how long his knees can last,' he thought patiently.

"I do not believe in weakness, vice, lust, fear or submission."

'Yes,' thought Gozine, 'let's leave those problems in the commune where the pathetic creatures can make the best of them.'

"But I feel a great spirituality in you, Gozine, and I wish to foster it." (I want to fuck you.) "I feel there might be a wonderful future for you in this Commune." (I want to fuck you a lot.) "I feel that perhaps I myself might learn something from your art."

(I might want you to fuck me once in a while.) "We can never know where we will find grace in this mysterious creation." (Only this morning I was a free man and now I am at your feet.) "It would be unwise to refuse the blessing the universe chooses to bestow upon us." (I can probably overpower you but I hope it will not be necessary.) "We must embrace this life in religion in all its infinite diversity and creativity."

Gozine stopped reading the meta message with relief as he felt the Hierophant's hand sliding up his calf and thigh, under his habit. "I feel my attraction to you is a weakness." (I feel my attraction to you is a weakness.) "I wish to turn it into a strength." (You must submit, little one, or I will kill you.)

Gozine leaned sweetly into the Hierophant's arms and looked up at him with a trusting innocence he'd never possessed. And no fear whatsoever.

"We must be strong, together, Master." He murmured breathlessly. 'How annoying these repressed high born Klingon's are,' he thought, 'you want me, I'm game, let's go. But, oh no, you've got to make a passion play and pageant out of it, don't ya? Hochofedra.' And he shrugged mentally.

The Hierophant looked into Gozine Ghet's big brown eyes and was lost. An Avatar could not have gotten his attention at just that moment.

He bent to kiss the novice's forehead and moved to his eyes, cheeks, nose, jaw, still thinking he would walk away from this, and finally, his lips. And knew there was no walking away from this.

Gozine was impressed. Obviously, the Hierophant intended to take his time about this and that was fine with him. He had all night and had gleaned a great deal of information from the man already.

(There was turmoil in the Imperial court.) The Hierophant lay down on top of him and crushed his mouth to Gozine's.

(The Yhets had the upper hand in events and the Emperor's ear for the moment.) He cupped Gozine's ass in his big hands and ground their erections together.

******

(The Haat clan's plan was to consolidate their planets and wait for the Yhets to do something stupid, which could be counted on to happen.) The Hierophant eased Gozine's habit over his head and stroked his cool hands over the lithe body beneath his.

(The Yhets hoped to cut a swathe through the Autonomous Zones and attack Romulan territory in its least densely planeted space. The Roms would then move their defenses from the real objective, which was the system of rich planets of the Autonomous Zones closest to Klingon space.) The Hierophant lifted Gozine gently in his arms and carried him to the bed.

******

(The Haats intended to allow the Yhets to proceed with their preparations, but would withhold, divert or sabotage crucial supplies for as long as possible to keep the Yhet fleets in Klingon spacedocks until the Haats themselves could finish consolidating their hold, military as well as cultural, on the rich planets, such as the one they were now on, in this peaceful sector bordering a vast Autonomous Zone.) Kroldt pulled off his vestments and lay naked on top of Gozine.

(The last thing the Haats wanted was another war, even a small one, with the Romulans because ... ) Kroldt spread Gozine's legs very wide.

( ... their fleets had been devastated by an organized rebellion in the Yqirorian system and preyed upon by Autonomous Zones pirates in their weakened condition.) Kroldt seemed unsure of the next move, Gozine lifted his hips to center the Hierophant's cock at his anus.

******

(Hence, it was necessary for the Haats to destroy the Yhet's plans with delays, restore their own fleets and by that time have so discredited the Yhet's in the Emperor's eyes that they could continue to colonize non-aligned space. The Emperor did not want war with his former in-laws either but his favorite concubine of the moment was an agent for the Yhets and he was under the beauty's thumb as well as spell.) The Hierophant pressed inside and rolled his head back in animal pleasure.

(The Haats had their own agents in the Imperial household and intended to remove the offending concubine once the creature's usefulness had been exhausted. The Haats were consummate strategists, they had flourished for a long time and didn't intend to let the fool Yhets spoil it now.) Gozine rose to meet his lover's long, hard thrusts.

(The Yhets were not stupid either. They had recently made peace with the pirates in the Autonomous Zones closest to their richest planets and, unlike the Haats, had not lost some of their best ships and commanders so were in better material condition that their rivals. For the moment. The Haats had every intention of changing that. Building a fleet is expensive. Repeatedly rebuilding a sabotaged fleet is even more expensive.) Kroldt slowed his thrusts and reached between them to stroke Gozine's hard penis.

Gozine decided he had enough information and laid back to enjoy what had turned out to be really excellent sex. He arched against his lover, rubbing his cock against the smooth honey-colored belly.

Kroldt gathered Gozine in his arms and kissed him deeply. He began to move with more purpose. He was ready to cum and hoped his partner was, too; if not, too bad.

He flung himself against Gozine, who met his powerful thrusts with his own, and felt his climax crash over him. Kroldt noticed Gozine thrashing against him in his own climax as he collapsed on top of him. When he could notice anything else he did not notice any cum between them.

"Did you ... ah... find release?" he finally asked.

"Yes, Master, thank you." Gozine looked demurely at him from under lowered jet lashes. It was devastating.

(The Mage only make semen when impregnation is required but the Hierophant wouldn't know that until he asked Gozine years later.)

Kroldt rolled off him and lay on his back panting. Gozine rose and walked over to the heap of clothing on the floor. He put on his own habit. He returned to the bed, picked up the Hierophant's robes and carefully laid them over the back of a chair.

Kroldt watched him. He rose, pulled back the covers and got under them. He held them open for Gozine, who hesitated.

"Stay. No one will ask about it and if they do I'll tell them I've developed a deep and compelling interest in sculpture."

Gozine tossed off his habit and curled beside his new lover. Kroldt drew him close, pushed aside some ebony curls and kissed his alabaster forehead.

"How little you are," he murmured, enthralled by the creature he held.

Gozine sighed with pleasure and snuggled a little closer. He fell asleep in the huge arms.

The next morning the cathedral was consecrated, the Commune was split and the Hierophant presided over the creation of a new branch of the Gozshedrefreingin commune and four new Klingon masters to guide it. Master Whilla in structural design, Master Pzchaz in terrain design, Master Khat in painting and as head of the commune, Master GozineGhet, the sculptor. The other Masters, including Master Tehn, and a number of their artisans were packed off to sculpt cherubs and paint saints in a monastery on the other end of the Empire. The decidedly unfashionable end of the Empire.

As news of these astonishing events spread, Gozine was given another name in religion: Gozine the Confessor. Due to the Hierophant's cagey recommendation (his story, and he was sticking to it, was that he recognized Master Ghet's greatness while confessing to him) Master Ghet found himself hearing the confessions of the most powerful Klingons in the Empire.

The confessions themselves were boring. Klingons confessed things Gozine did not consider serious transgressions such as fear, doubt, awe, but the meta messages he read in their telefields were absolutely fascinating. He offered what comfort and insight he could to the penitent, usually more than they expected and so developed a reputation as something of a saint.

part 12

Gozine found this highly amusing. So did the Hierophant and he occasionally commented on Gozine's saintliness and other virtues - in bed. Gozine had grown rather fond of Kroldt, he wasn't a bad lot compared to other Klingons. Having such a powerful lover also afforded Master Ghet the luxury of only sleeping with those who interested him.

The best part of these new conditions was that Gozine could relay the information he gathered to his brothers, especially Hobie, and in certain cases influence the Klingons to act in ways beneficial to the Talljets and their interests. This, combined with Ling's whores, Jir's monarchs and Hobie's pirates, made the Talljets rich, secure and happy. It was wonderful except for one small problem.

The Federation was continually vying for influence in the same sectors as the Klingons, often with greater success due to their lack of history with the planets in question. Since Ling's cat was out of the bag and the Federation banned his house, the Talljets had lost what little influence they had there. Once a planet joined the Federation it was time to move house for the Talljets and the Klingons. The Federation had inherited some rather amazing art and architecture from the Klingon communes in this process and for once they fully appreciated it. Klingon Masters became famous in the Federation art world, among them one Master Ghet who was known only by his rune on his work.

One of the most famous of his works was the Tossarian Gates on Zatichket enclosing the tomb of Captain Tossar, the pirate, who had liberated them from the Roms and died in the successful defense of the planet. The Haats had commissioned them because Tossar had done them a big favor by kicking the Roms back into their old boundaries. Hobie had been Tossar's lover and had been grateful to Master Ghet. He had loved Tossar enough to regret his death. Losing Zatichket to the Federation was yet another disappointment and resentment for Hobie. But, hochofedra, shrug, what can you do?

Otherwise, the Talljets lived happily as best they could and Master Ghet, as he was now famous, was very content in his work and in the commune. It was a full and busy life.

And they were busy working on the Rovirin cathedral. It was an ambitious project. The Klingons and the Hierophant planned to use it as his main argument, along with the garrison and fleet, to keep Rovirin out of the Federation. Gozine wished them Godspeed. He, like his brothers, had a little second sight and had an uneasy feeling that they would lose Rovirin eventually but he did not know how. Or perhaps, only he would lose what was important to him but, again, he did not know how or when. Only that when it happened, all would be well, somehow.

'Hochofedra,' he shrugged savagely and glared at the little apprentice waiting for his attention. The child took a step back and Gozine softened his gaze.

"Captain Talljet would like a word with you, Master," He squeaked.

Gozine had his shields up and was not taking calls from anyone: "I am still not available," he said in Patois.

"Which is why I had to drag myself all the way down here to have a five minute conversation with you, o' saint Gozine." Hobie strolled in and circled the sculpture in progress.

"Hraja, bring us some tea, please." Gozine waved both apprentice and journeyman out of the room. "What brings you here, brother?"

"You, MajaYaja," Hobie said, using his brother's pet name. "We miss you when you keep your shields up." Maja Talljet dropped his shields. "You see, that's better." He smiled at Hobie. "And even better when you smile."

"I've been working, Hobie."

"And the Hierophant was here. I saw his flotilla leaving. Man travels in style, I'll say that." Hobie was impressed by the quality of ship the Haats provided their priest.

"Hochofedera, Nolo" Maja shrugged.

"Any news, Maja?"

"All good. The Klingons are delighted with the new isolationism on Terra. As goes Terra, so goes the Federation."

"They are stupid to forget the Vulcans."

"They would like to forget the Vulcans but, as you and they know, the Vulcans are not interested in forging alliances in non-aligned space for the Federation in opposition to their allies the Terrans. Except possibly Sarek the Vulcan, he likes being in opposition to the Terrans." 'Especially Star Fleet,' he added to himself.

"Yes," Hobie mused, "but I understand he is quite ill these days and is staying home on Vulcan indefinitely."

"I'm sorry he's ill but glad he is staying on Vulcan and out of our hair."

They nodded at each other. All the Talljets were wary of Sarek and walked lightly where he was concerned. It was something useful they'd learned in their youths on Vulcan. Hraja brought in the tea, Tien and Farro at his heels.

Tien flung himself into his uncle's arms: "How wonderful to see you, Uncle! And are Polmira, Lyra and Bot really going to live here?" Polmira, Lyra and Bot were Hobie's children and dearly loved by their Commune cousins.

"Can't they?" Farro snarled at Maja with his usual directness. Maja sneered playfully at Farro's enthusiasm for his cousins. He usually took no notice of others but he adored Polmira, Lyra and Bot. He and Polmira were almost the same age and had played in various sandboxes together. It was, on the whole, a happy history.

"If your Master says yes, then, yes." Hobie gave his brother a charming look.

Maja Talljet laughed: "Well, why not? Polmira, Lyra and Bot are always welcome here. I'm sure they missed me, too, Nolo."

Hobie smiled wryly, knowing at least half of his motives for the visit were discredited.

Maja's children rampaged out of the room to go settle their cousins.

"Your JetCheqs (half Talljets) get prettier everyday, Noli."

"I look forward to seeing yours, Hobie," Maja poured them Relan tea. "Why have you brought them here?"

"I want them where I know they're safe for a while. I'll be in space for some time, settling the rebellion on Certeg, in the Ertig system."

"Again? Don't those fools know what's good for them?"

"Something about self determination, Maja. I see their point but don't like it and won't tolerate it. I'm tired of losing planets to the Federation so no more Mr. Nice Guy."

"Umm."

"I'm also concerned about their education."

"Whose?" Maja was startled.

"Polmira, Lyra and Bot. Who else?"

"Oh." He raised his eyebrows sympathetically, "Your children are always welcome here, Hobie, we have some new tutors that I am very impressed with so rest assured..."

"Bot's Standard needs work."

"We'll see to it."

"And Polmira doesn't draw very well."

"Hobie..."

"And Lyra is having trouble with math."

"Hobie, don't worry, we'll get Tien to tutor Lyra and Polmira and I'll work with Bot myself. Let this be the first joy in your heart but last trouble in your mind." He quoted an old Rom proverb they had learned as children on Magidrian.

Hobie let Maja's peace wash over him and drank his tea. They sat in companionable silence for a few moments and then moved out into and among the Commune where Hobie's children looked as if they had been living forever.

Hobie spent the evening and night and was very much at peace when he left orbit in his ship, the Dancer, the next morning.

* * *

"Why have you been avoiding me since we got back from Vulcan?" McCoy was standing in Spock's quarters, late one evening, several days after those traumatic events.

"I have not been avoiding you, Doctor. We have both been extremely busy these past few days." Spock was using his bridge voice and was unreadable. He was wearing a heavy black robe.

"But it's not the same with us, is it?" He hated this void between them. Spock's costume reminded him of trying to talk to Carmelites.

Spock was silent, half hoping McCoy would say more.

"No, it is not the same with us," he said at last.

McCoy wondered should he stay or should he go and decided to ask: "May I sit down, Spock? I have a theory I'd like to share with you."

Spock was wary but gestured him to a chair. McCoy was using his best bedside manner and that made the Vulcan wonder what he was on to.

McCoy sat, composing himself, wondering how much he'd miss going to bed with Spock when this conversation was over. He cleared his throat: "Based upon what you told me about Pon Farr, there is no obvious explanation for your recovery. Being half Terran does not completely explain it, although that is the explanation I put in my report to Star Fleet. I have, however, another idea based on your behavior toward me lately."

"I have explained ..."

"Steady, Spock, I don't believe that any more than you do. I can feel the difference in you. I can't measure it or test it but I can feel it."

Spock lowered his eyes. McCoy continued, trying for scientific detachment: "You were bonded young and your system had adjusted to it. Since I did not know about the Bonding, I assumed your bioreadings were normal for a Vulcan male of your age. When they changed with the onset of Pon Farr I was able to compare them to each other. My theory is that an unbonded Vulcan male of your age, having undergone the trauma of unbonding through the challenge would have a different set of bioreadings."

Spock raised his eyes. McCoy lowered his: "Unless he was bonded to another."

Spock was silent.

"It is my opinion that you bonded to Jim under the stress of combat and that accounts for your bioreading being what they were before Pon Farr." He raised his eyes, "And that also accounts for the change between us."

Spock exhaled. Relieved that he would not have to explain it and impressed that Leonard had drawn such accurate conclusions on such skimpy data. He nodded.

"I did not know this would happen."

"But it has and what do you intend to do about it?" Concern but not anger in the doctor's voice.

"Nothing."

"NOTHING."

"Leonard, please, control yourself." McCoy took a deep breath and Spock continued: "I had hoped to adjust to my new condition without your notice. Having failed, however, I do not feel that it impacts our relationship in any way. I was bonded to T'Pring and involved with you to no ill effect."

"Just for your information, Spock, I would have known you were married."

"It did not seem necessary..." Spock raised a finger to successfully silence McCoy's outburst. "As I thought I would never experience Pon Farr. It usually occurs at a much younger age. Therefore, since I planned to remain in Star Fleet I saw no reason to tell you about it since it did not affect us."

"And now?"

"It still does not affect us. It is my hope that we can continue our relationship unimpeded, as before."

"Are you going to tell Jim?"

"No, I do not plan to tell him. He should be unaware and therefore unaffected by the bond. I will seek out a healer and have the bond removed next time I am on Vulcan."

"And never tell him? Spock, he risked his life for you there and elsewhere as you have for him."

"And you for us, Leonard."

"Yes, well, but this is different. You and he have always been close, is this not just an extension of that?"

"No, it is not." Spock let some amusement show, wondering where McCoy was heading.

"He would want to know, Spock."

"It would be awkward. He is human, he did not choose this, he is not culturally attuned to it, it is of no use to him, or to me for the foregoing reasons. The merit in this situation is that he is unaware of it. Therefore, he will not notice its lack when the bond is dissolved."

"So you're sayin' he doesn't know what he's missin'." Spock nodded, McCoy continued, "I think it's a bad idea. I think if I figured it out that he'll figure it out and then there'll be hell to pay."

"The difference being that you have more intimate knowledge of me that he does."

McCoy gave his lover a long hard look: "Jim's knowledge of you might be more intimate than you give him credit for, Spock."

Spock raised his eyebrows to indicate that he dismissed McCoy's last statement and had completely lost interest in this conversation.

McCoy was too tired to wrestle the point anymore. He rose: "Well, I'm sure you know best." He smiled, "I am glad you lived through it, however you did, however it works out." Spock rose and moved toward him. "It's late so I'll leave you. Will I see you tomorrow?" Tomorrow being their usual afternoon and evening.

"Yes. You could also 'see' me now." Spock's voice was low and inviting.

McCoy hesitated, wanting to be convinced. Spock moved closer and leaned in to nuzzle McCoy's left ear, knowing full well this drove the doctor wild.

On the contrary, McCoy tensed and Spock stepped back to look at him. McCoy was a mixture of fear, relief, love, anger, and other emotions he could not classify from his limited experience. Strangest of all, McCoy suddenly flung himself into the Vulcan's arms and buried his face in his neck. He was shaking and Spock held him in a comforting embrace.

"Leonard?"

McCoy exhaled: "I have never been so frightened in my life, Spock, watching you trying to kill Jim and being so helpless." It all came out in a rush.

"It was rather distressing for me as well, Leonard, to think that I had killed my CO." He patted McCoy comfortingly and was pleased to feel the doctor laughing.

"I shall never forget the look on your face when Jim came out of my office," He laughed, smiling at Spock, all his emotional turmoil dispersed, relaxing into the Vulcan arms that held him.

"I am pleased to have afforded you some amusement, Doctor." Spock's tone was so serious he could only be joking.

McCoy tilted his head back a little more, as if in challenge. Spock leaned forward and kissed him, holding him tight, thrusting his tongue into the doctor's mouth.

McCoy was surprised by Spock's forcefulness and resisted a little. This seemed only to enflame the Vulcan more. McCoy found himself slung over Spock's shoulder and being carted to the Vulcan's bed.

"Hey, Spock, honey," he drawled nervously, "slow down, we have all night."

He was dumped in a heap on the bed and Spock stood over him, looking down at him. McCoy was taken aback by what he saw in his lover's eyes: the same madness he'd seen on Vulcan. He started to inch away.

"Undress." Spock's voice was like steel.

McCoy hesitated, thinking, if he can speak, maybe I can reason with him. Spock's response was to reach down and rip the doctor's tunic off him. McCoy struggled briefly but gave up when he found himself pinned to the bed with one Vulcan hand while the other ripped off his pants and boots.

Spock leaned back to fling off his robe. He was naked and completely aroused.

"Spock..." McCoy began.

"Shh." Spock rolled McCoy over on his belly like a doll and held him there as he reached into the beside table to the lubricant. He seemed oblivious to McCoy's trepidation and lack of arousal. He pulled himself together: "Leonard, there is a sexual release in Pon Farr that I was unable to experience on Vulcan. I was hoping that the urgency of it would pass in a few days but that seems not to be the case." He was panting.

'Obviously,' McCoy thought as slippery fingers probed his anus, stretching and preparing him for intercourse. McCoy tried to relax and dearly hoped this wasn't going to be too rough. He could tell that Spock was not his usual controlled, pleasure seeking self. This was the most desperate he'd ever seen the Vulcan.

Spock spread McCoy's cheeks and positioned his cock at the tight ring, gathering himself so as not to plunge all the way in. McCoy was still, waiting, trying to be calm. Spock inhaled, summoning all his control, and pushed past the tight opening and stopped. McCoy exhaled, knowing he was not going to be torn apart, just fucked really hard.

Which is exactly what happened. Spock threw his head back with a groan and slid all the way in, resting his entire weight on McCoy. He then slammed into the doctor half a dozen times before cuming with a strangled cry and collapsing on McCoy, who lay, more annoyed than hurt, beneath him.

McCoy, in spite of everything, was half hard from Spock's rough tumble. 'Wham Grr, thank you, sir,' he thought wryly.

Spock grunted ('unusual,' McCoy thought) and rolled them onto their sides. He stroked down McCoy's chest to his flank and to his half erect penis. He closed his warm hand over the head gently and stroked up and down the hardening shaft until he could feel his lover squirming with pleasure against him. He increased his pace and brought the doctor to an efficient climax, one that left McCoy gasping and trembling.

Spock relaxed, at last, against his lover and let his penis slip out. He was half asleep; McCoy was not.

"Spock! What the hell was that about?" McCoy rolled over to face him.

"Ummm," Spock cuddled up on McCoy's shoulder and went to sleep. McCoy realized it would be futile to try to wake him in this condition. There would be time enough to discuss it later.

'Maybe I like it a little rough,' he thought, catching sight of the rags that had been his uniform. 'Well, maybe not that rough.' He'd be a little sore tomorrow but he'd let Spock make it up to him, somehow.

'Is it always going to be like this from now on?' he suddenly wondered.

Spock opened his eyes and held McCoy a little tighter. He looked up into troubled blue eyes: "I apologize. Are you damaged?"

"No, I'm all right."

"Shall I examine..."

"No, thanks," he kissed the concerned Vulcan. "I'm sore but no serious damage. You were very controlled in your out of controlledness."

Spock looked puzzled. McCoy asked: "Will it always be this rough? Now that you've been in Pon Farr?"

"That was the last of Pon Farr, Leonard. I did not find sexual release until just now, with you."

"You might have warned me."

"Again, I apologize, I did not realize how deep my need was until I was consumed by it."

He looked contrite; it was irresistible to McCoy.

"I guess I'll live," he pulled the Vulcan close and stroked his silky onyx hair. "Go to sleep, Spock, it's late." <> They drifted off. The next morning Spock lent McCoy a uniform and that evening they were back to normal.

McCoy was still troubled that Spock would not tell Jim of the bond but could not think up any convincing arguments to change his mind. Eventually he gave up trying and ignored the whole situation until it began to directly affect him.

part 13

Hobie sat with his bridge crew on the Ling watching Spock's Vulcan wedding deteriorate into tragedy in one corner of the view screen. He was trying not to be too happy about it because Maja, Jir and Ling were watching him, it and each other from the other three corners.

"Well, this is awful, Ling, how do you come to have such an awful thing?" Hobie was trying to hide his elation at Spock's downfall.

"Maja told me to get it from Vulcan." He looked at his brother. "It turns out to be all the old families can talk about these days." Ling was not elated. He was horrified by T'Pring's actions.

"I knew KirkaFara was stupid, but not that stupid." Jir put in. "To accept a challenge not knowing a thing about it is the most incredibly stupid thing I've seen in a long time."

Maja Talljet was silent.

Ling: "The Sa's think T'Pau's gone over the edge."

Hobie: "How so?"

Ling: "They say that this is the worst possible interpretation of the Surakian code and should not be allowed. The Kalifee is only to be invoked when the husband is judged unfit to breed. Not because the wife doesn't like the way he wears his hair."

Jir: "The Vulcan family lawyers would agree with you."

Maja was silent.

Ling: "Well, I tell you one thing, lads, T'Pring and T'Pau – they're right off the A list."

Hobie: "They were never on my A list."

Jir: "Nor mine."

Hobie: "But I wonder why she did it?"

Ling: "To marry Stonn."

Jir: "Which one?"

Ling: "The one that lived on her father's estate."

Shocked silence.

Jir: "The gardener's son, Stonn? That Stonn?"

Ling nodded.

Hobie: "Poor Stonn. She had him on a leash when we knew them, I can't imagine what she'll do to him now."

"Perhaps she'll calm down and treat him right now that Spock is out of the way." Maja was stony with all this gossip, but wanted to know: "Where the fuck were his parents while their only child was being sacrificed to the cruel Surakian gods of logic?"

Ling: "Sarek still considers him outcast for joining Star Fleet. I also hear Sarek is ill."

"Has he no mother to protect him from the Vulcans?"

Jir: "Maja, be fair, what could Lady Amanda have done?"

"Been there."

Hobie: "What, and been as weak and useless a Terran as ever?"

Jir rolled his eyes, Maja and Hobie had some grudge against Amanda that he and Ling did not share, understand or even want to know about.

"Let us thank the unknowable mercy of the mind of god that Dr. McCoy is not such a weak and useless Terran."

The brothers silently gave varying degrees of thanks for Leonard McCoy and his hypospray.

"And let us thank god that at least someone loves Spock enough to save him for once."

Ling: "We loved him, Nolo."

"And we failed him."

Hobie: "Maja!"

"We were not enough for him to want to stay with us."

Jir: "Maja, please."

"And he chose exile and unhappiness named Vulcan duty because we were not enough."

Hobie: "Noli."

"Because I was not enough."

Ling: "Oh, Maja."

"And he is so fucking stupid I can't even imagine how he finds his way out of bed in the morning."

His brothers exhaled in relief.

"What was he thinking taking those humans to Vulcan? Did it never occur to him that T'Pring might just reject him after milking him for the bride price?"

Ling was tapping into his computer, he whistled appreciatively: "That girl twisted some change out of him. He's been paying into her account for years."

Hobie: "How'd you know this, Maja?"

"I saw it in Spock's mind once. I remember thinking no one would ever pay so much for me."

Jir: "No, they only lay Empires and Religions at your feet."

"She would have been smarter to marry the VulCheq and kept Stonn on the side. At least the money would have kept coming in."

Ling: "True enough. Her family is very hard up these days. Been so a long time."

Hobie: "Perhaps she had a point to make."

Jir: "Such as?"

Hobie: "That she was not willing to throw herself away on Spock." He watched carefully for Maja's reaction.

"Perhaps," Maja almost snarled. "However, was it necessary to try to kill him? Or worse, to let him rot in prison for killing his Captain and his friend."

Hobie: "How do you know this, Maja?"

"I can feel it in Spock's mind."

There was another shocked silence.

Jir: "After all these years you're still linked to him."

"Just a little and only when he is under extreme emotional stress."

Ling: "That's how you knew about the Kalifee before I did."

Maja nodded.

"What now?" Hobie asked.

"Nothing." Maja shrugged, "Hochofedra. Godspeed to him and us on our separate paths. I hope he finds peace and happiness but I doubt it. I've lost the contact but the last feeling in his mind was something about having everything he wanted. I do hope his reach does not exceed his grasp. It felt as if everything he wanted was perhaps more than he could handle but I don't know what or how." He inhaled, "And I don't care. It's done, he's free of Vulcan, he got the smartest human in the galaxy in his bed and his heart – let us hope he has the sense to keep him, and he has all of Star Fleet and the Federation as his oyster. Godspeed. Live long and prosper."

"Indeed, Maja, indeed." Hobie was impressed by his Noli's good, if somewhat ruthless, sense.

They bid each other farewell and promised to meet soon on Rovirin. Jir returned to the Sultan, Ling to his business and Hobie to his fleet.

Maja raised his shields. He looked down at his tattooed hands and gave into one last twinge of regret over losing SpockDeVulCheq so many years ago.

'Oh, how I loved him and I didn't even know what it was. Can't I ever love anyone else like that? Nothing compares; nothing at all. And he did not love me. And he did not love me.'

He looked at his hands again, squared his shoulders, put the past firmly behind him and became, once again, Master Ghet of the Klingon Empire.

A very busy man, Master Ghet, he returned to his sculpture and gave it his entire attention.

So thorough was his discipline, he didn't give SpockDeVulCheq any further thought until events conspired to overwhelm even his best intentions.

* * *

Kirk lay on his bed, tired after a long day and a hard won chess game with Spock. He faintly wondered how Spock could have the energy to continue his scientific discussions with Bones after such a battle but perhaps there were wells of Vulcan strength he was unaware of.

He felt very mellow (a small victory brandy) and vaguely aroused. This was not unusual, he was often vaguely aroused in the long stretches between shore leaves. He did feel that there was something unusual about this arousal, as if he were on the brink of some erotic discovery. Pleasant as that might be, he decided a cool shower and a good night's sleep would solve everything.

~~~~~~~~

In his own quarters, Spock had just finished stripping McCoy and was running his hands and tongue over as much of the doctor as he could reach. He felt extra aroused and McCoy's cool sweet skin felt and tasted especially delicious to him.

McCoy was definitely warming up. He'd found a distracted Vulcan when he'd arrived chez Spock and had wondered what was up. The Vulcan seemed to be mulling something over as he blandly kissed his doctor. After a moment he snapped out of it, whatever it was, and the kiss became quite emphatic, on both sides.

Spock had been distracted. He'd been puzzling over the lost chess game and replaying the last eighteen moves in his head. He found this difficult as his thoughts strayed to the vision of Jim's hand on a chess piece or Jim's lips as he sipped from his coffee. His concentration had been normal during the game, why was it now wandering off the subject? He'd then had an extremely odd thought: how would Jim's hands and lips look and feel if he, not Spock, were now kissing Leonard? How would the doctor feel to a member of his own species? This speculation enflamed the Vulcan and he made short work of getting McCoy out of his clothes and onto the bed.

~~~~~~

Kirk's shower did not have the hoped for effect. He found himself letting the water play over his lips and had an intense desire to kiss someone for a long, long time. He was still half erect as he toweled off.

He considered working but the desire to lay down and masturbate was too great. This urgency made him feel like a teenager again.

'Oh well,' he thought, 'no one needs to know.' He got comfortable on his bed and began to fondle his arching cock while fantasizing a long passionate kiss with an unseen lover whose strong arms returned his embrace.

Strong arms? Well, he did like strong women. Was it a woman? Of course it was a woman, probably an alien woman with strong arms.

And thick brown hair and languid blue eyes. (!)

~~~~~~

Spock, naked, writhing on top of an equally naked, writhing McCoy pulled back from the intense kiss, ostensibly to catch his breath but really to trace the half sensed extra something he was feeling. To cover his confusion he kissed a trail to McCoy's nipple and closed his lips around the hard nub. This elicited a groan and arch.

This was pleasing. Spock felt inspired to vary his caress by flicking the tip of his tongue just at the end of the nipple; teasing it higher. McCoy shivered and undulated against him.

~~~~~~

Just flicking the tip of his tongue against a rock hard nipple was one of Kirk's favorite things. Drove women wild, even flat chested ones like this one in his fantasy.

He'd ignored the earlier moment of confusion (panic was too strong a word), intense arousal had swept aside all considerations of brown hair and blue eyes. Although he'd known and loved women with brown hair and blue eyes he didn't feel it was of them he was thinking. So he ignored it in favor of the bead of moisture on the tip of his cock. He put his full attention on the bead of moisture on the tip of his 'dreamgirl's' cock. (!!)

~~~~~~

Spock was licking the bead of moisture off the tip of McCoy's cock when the bolt of Jim's panic jolted through him and he finally realized that the link was open. He was glad his teeth had not been on sensitive flesh.

He buried his face in Leonard's flank and was very still, listening for Jim, who was also very still.

He stroked Leonard with his hand, hoping to hide his confusion from his lover. He was also hoping that Jim would somehow perceive the strokes to be his own hand on his own cock and therefore still believe he was having a fantasy as opposed to what was really the case: that he was in bed, telepathically, with Spock and McCoy.

Spock was shocked to the core when he felt, in Jim's fantasy, Jim's tongue circle around the fantasy cock. It was so compelling an image/sensation that Spock could do nothing but imitate it, doubling and redoubling the erotic sensation between them and driving McCoy completely wild.

'Whatever's gotten into Spock tonight has got to stay! He's inspired and inspirational tonight!' McCoy thought ecstatically.

~~~~~~

'Okay, so in this fantasy I'm giving a blow job and I'm loving it. So, in that case, I'll do all the things I like and that will get me off,' Kirk's rational mind was hunting for any reason for his body to be so turned on.

'This is wild,' he thought, swallowing the hard pink fantasy cock, sweet and salty taste, hot musky scent.

Feeling his 'dreamman' writhe with pleasure beneath his mouth, Kirk arched and slowed his strokes on his own cock.

'Let's see just how far this new train of thought goes.'

~~~~~~

Spock had tried to encourage Kirk's orgasm but couldn't really make him come without revealing himself. He had also had a flash of what Kirk now wanted to do. Or was it Kirk having a flash of what Spock wanted to do?

McCoy knew what he wanted to have done next: "Fuck me right now," he commanded breathily.

How could Spock really refuse? It was what everybody concerned wanted and badly.

~~~~~~

/Fuck me right now/ Kirk heard his old friend Leonard McCoy say clear as day in his head. He froze in the shock of recognition.

'Nah,' he thought. 'Yeah?'

~~~~~~

Spock felt Kirk freeze and so to give that human a moment to recover and to tease this human a little more, he decided to suck on the rosy head of McCoy's cock a little longer. He even made little slurping noises which caused McCoy to groan with pleasure.

~~~~~~

'What a beautiful sound,' Kirk managed to think through his discombobulation, 'I want to hear it again.'

~~~~~~

While Spock considered he slurped the cock again so Jim could hear Leonard's pleasured groan. 'Ah. How nice for all of us.' And he decided that if the idea of penetrating Leonard in what Jim thought was a fantasy was too much for him, he could simply pick up another train of thought. The only thing keeping Jim here telepathically was his intense desire to be here after he had stumbled in.

'Or,' Spock thought (slurp-groan-ah!), 'did I open the link by thinking about the chess game while kissing Leonard?' (wimper-slurp-groan-ah!) 'I have no erotic feelings for Jim but I am very much enjoying his erotic reaction to Leonard's erotic reaction to ..'(slurp-groan-ah! /fuck me!/).

~~~~~~

'I will, I want to, Kirk was panting mentally, 'what do I...?'

~~~~~~

Spock crouched between McCoy's legs which McCoy pulled up to his chest to give Spock better access to the anatomy he sought.

McCoy was more wanton and lustful than Spock had seen him since the early part of their romance. That, in itself, was terribly exciting but the Vulcan also had Jim, wanton, lustful and extremely curious, with him, too.

He slipped in two fingers and wiggled them around to stretch McCoy for penetration. Jim had recoiled from this at first but now seemed to be extremely interested in it. Kirk was even more interested when Spock stroked McCoy's prostate and the response that action elicited from the doctor.

Spock removed his fingers, gathered McCoy into his arms and gave him a deep, sweet kiss, waiting for Jim to decide how he wanted Spock, his agent, to fuck McCoy, the object of his desire.

~~~~~~

Kirk relaxed a little.

'He needs to be well lubed so I don't hurt him,' he mused, 'and now that he is....'

In his fantasy he breaks off his kiss and leans back. Slipping his hands under Bones' knees he gently drapes, first one then the other leg, over his shoulders. He feels McCoy inch toward him in anticipation.

'You're going to love this, Bones,' he thinks huskily.

He rolls the object of his desire a bit forward and centers his slippery cock at the entrance of his old friend's body.

/yes yes/ McCoy sighs beneath him.

'Yes.' He presses in gently, hears McCoy's groan, feels him arching for deeper contact. He would like to plunge in but feels constrained to move slowly so as not to hurt his lover.

Slipping into the tight heat millimeter by millimeter (stroke, stroke, stroke), he looks into his lover's blue eyes. So much love there, so much passion.

'How have I never conjured this up before?,' he thinks, 'it's delightful.'

He hit bottom and could feel McCoy swooning with pleasure beneath him.

~~~~~~

'Yes,' Spock thought, 'very delightful.'

He began to pump Leonard slowly, finding the angle that put the most pressure on his lover's prostate and attentively watched his face contort with sexual pleasure.

"Yes, yes," McCoy panted, "harder, faster."

~~~~~~

/yes, yes, harder, faster/ (stroke, STRoke, STROKE)

~~~~~~

Spock was all sensation now, within and without. He fucked McCoy with long hard strokes in rhythm with Jim's hand on Jim's cock.

Faster, harder, deeper, longer.

McCoy was thrusting against the Vulcan in the same rhythm. Panting, whimpering, ready to die or kill for the incipient orgasm looming just over him. And then it was upon him, he arched, thrashing against Spock, clenching fiercely around the hard Vulcan cock inside him.

Spock slammed into him once more and came.

~~~~~~

Kirk, writhing with the sensation of strong fantasy muscles clenching on his fantasy cock, slammed both hands up and down his cock once and came all over his chest and belly.

~~~~~~

All three fought for consciousness and lay panting and spent.

~~~~~~

Spock moved McCoy's legs off his shoulders and lay his head on the doctor's heaving chest to catch his breath. He lay listening to McCoy's heartbeat and listening for Jim's next thought.

~~~~~~

Kirk sighed with pleasure, rolled over and went to sleep.

~~~~~~

"That was incredible, Spock," McCoy murmured when he could.

"Ummmmm." Spock affirmed, not moving, rather wishing he, too, could just roll over and go to sleep.

McCoy stroked his soft hair and pinched an earlobe: "C'mon, lover, let me up before you conk out."

Spock exhaled and rolled off McCoy and onto his back. He felt floppy, like he hadn't a bone left in his body.

The doctor rose and disappeared into the bathroom. Spock did not look up but heard water running.

Having rinsed himself off, McCoy returned with a warm wet cloth and proceeded to bathe Spock, who, if anything, got even floppier. He fell asleep.

McCoy covered him with a blanket and smoothed his hair. He sat for a moment looking down at his sleeping lover and wanted this moment to last forever.

The damp, cooling cloth brought him back to reality. He hung it in the shower to dry, dressed, twitched the covers a little higher on the comatose Vulcan and went to his quarters to pass out in his own bed.

No other events of note were recorded that night.

~~~~~~

Kirk eventually came to terms with the newfound guilty pleasure his fantasies of fucking and sucking Bones brought him. He would have liked to have confided his concerns about it to someone but the only person he might have done so to was the very object of his desire. So he learned to live with it and even decided to enjoy it.

'After all,' he reasoned. 'It's only a fantasy and it will probably go away the next time we hit a port where I can get seriously laid.'

~~~~~~

At the next port he got seriously laid four times and felt at peace with the universe.

For a while.

Until he realized that it was more than fantasy sex with his CMO.

Until he realized he was in love with his CMO.

~~~~~~

McCoy was completely oblivious to all this. He was perfectly happy tumbling into bed with Spock once or twice a week and enjoyed the new level of erotic intensity they'd lately achieved.

He also felt loved more cosmically by Spock since the Pon Farr. Cosmically was as close has he could come to describing it. He felt cherished as usual by the Vulcan but he also felt love that seemed to come not from Spock but through him. He did not care as long as it was wonderful.

The doctor occasionally had a guilty thought that he knew about the accidental bonding and Jim did not. 'This must be how the secret lover feels about the lawful spouse,' he mused. But he pushed it away. There was nothing he could do to get Spock to tell Jim about the bond. Spock was particularly immovable on the subject so McCoy dropped it and simply enjoyed their harmonious relationship.

He had his work, his lover, his friend - who could ask for more?

Spock was enjoying McCoy's happiness more than he let on to his lover. He was, however, extra attentive to the doctor's moods and did what he could to lighten them when they grew dark. A caress, a compliment, a question about his research would take McCoy's mind off whatever was troubling it.

He found himself being so attentive because Jim was more sensitive to McCoy's moods than Spock had previously realized. Perhaps due to the fact of their long friendship, Spock often observed Kirk thinking of ways to amuse or tease the doctor.

Spock was as close to enchanted with his existence as he ever allowed himself to be. He truly enjoyed seeing his lover charmed by his bondmate and the pleasure that provoked in all three of them.

Bondmate. Yes, well, one should call things what they are until they can be changed.

The link between Kirk and Spock was providing all three with a great deal of sexual pleasure. For Kirk it was the wicked pleasure of intense and forbidden fantasy. For McCoy the feeling of being deeply loved (he was anyway, it was just very subtle). For Spock it was the triple sensation of Kirk, McCoy's and his own pleasure, pleasuring and being pleasured.

Gradually, however, he began to feel a shift in Kirk's emotional energy toward McCoy, it took on a more intense and determined cast. It reminded Spock of Jim when he went after a prize with his heart and soul.

'If he wants Leonard,' Spock thought seriously, 'would I be able to deny him?'

The Vulcan did not know and did not want to find out.

Part 14

Loegeria 9 was an extremely pleasant type M planet with a sophisticated enough culture to be a trading partner with other planets in its system. Still non-aligned, it had not yet decided to join the Federation or the Klingons and for once neither side was pressuring. Let the Loegerians be non-aligned as long as they sell us their sweet, tangy fruits, crusty breads, tart ciders and elegant wines was the general feeling in the quadrant.

Unfortunately (or perhaps fortunately) Loegerian products did not travel long distances well. This fact had allowed Loegeria to avoid industrial farming and thereby maintain its eco balance. A fate other planets with good food had not escaped. So it was necessary to actually go there to get any of it. Which is exactly what Kirk decided to do for his crew when he realized they could go, eat, shop and still make their rendezvous with the USS Aubrey. Commodore Maturin would certainly not say no to a bottle or two of Loegerian fume blanc and a basket of tolmias (sweet sticky juicy golden pear-like fruit that should be eaten with wine and near running water).

"Let's go!" he cried to his navigator and they were off. Delighted smiles throughout the ship.

McCoy, being very busy with an experiment on bacteria sampled on a type L planet (hydrogen environment and dense gravity field), could not take the time to beam down and shop for himself. He did, however, give Christine the entire day off, his credit chip and shopping list and told her not to come back without everything on the list.

She laughed at him. He liked it when Christine Chapel laughed at him. And of course she came back with everything he wanted and at the best price she could get, too, except for one thing.

Later that evening, as the Enterprise sped toward the Aubery, Captain Kirk invited Dr. McCoy to his quarters for some Loegerian brandy (mild tasting but very strong) and mragleans (like tolmias but with denser flesh and small seeds instead of a pit). Kirk knew that McCoy liked mragleans very much and hadn't got any because the vendor sold the last to Kirk himself. Kirk knew this because McCoy was complaining about it over dinner.

"Well, come to my quarters, I have some, I'll share them with you," 'sounds innocent enough,' he thought, 'not like I'm trying to lure him into my den.'

Spock had given Kirk a thoughtful look as if he had heard his mental aside.

"I," McCoy declared, "would be delighted."

Spock seemed deep in thought as he excused himself to return to his lab. It was known that he cared for neither Loegerian brandy nor mragleans.

* * *

He did, however, care for his bondmate and his lover and he was not unaware of the aggressive shift in Kirk's attitude toward McCoy. He hoped Kirk would not force himself on McCoy. He doubted it but found it necessary to acknowledge the possibility. Kirk felt passion for McCoy; Spock recognized it within himself but where Spock's passion for McCoy was an ember; Kirk's had become an inferno.

'And if Jim does attack Leonard,' he wondered, 'what then? Rely on McCoy to fight off a superior warrior? Go to his rescue, somehow? Hope McCoy can recall Kirk to his senses?

'And if Jim uses his powerful seductive charms will Leonard be able to resist? And if he yields? What then? Kirk would never share him so must I lose both?'

So, pushing aside these troubling thoughts, he quietly opened the link and felt Jim's arousal as he poured McCoy yet another large brandy.

'Leonard, Leonard.' He could tell that the wine was doing its job too well; McCoy's defenses weren't just down, they were on vacation.

* * *

'Have some Madeira, my dear,' Kirk hummed the ancient wicked lyrics in his head, pouring a little more brandy for the very mellow doctor.

He sliced up a mraglean and pushed the plate of glistening flesh toward McCoy.

Kirk was reminded of a child having a favorite treat, so great was McCoy' pleasure as he brought the succulent fruit to his mouth.

"Most kind of you to invite me, Jim," he drawled charmingly, licking his lips, sending a jolt of desire though Kirk (and Spock as well, for that matter).

"Anything for you, Bones," Kirk murmured seductively. (Spock noticed; McCoy did not.)

"Brilliant to make a Loegeria run. I do get so tired of replicated food after awhile." McCoy looked around for a napkin; finding none he started to lick the mraglean juice off his fingers.

Kirk simply stopped breathing (so did Spock) in the face of the sexiest thing he had ever seen in his life. He threw caution to the wind and reached for McCoy's wrist. (Spock's hands froze over his computer keyboard.) Looking deeply into the startled blue eyes (rather bloodshot, Spock noted), he sucked McCoy's index finger into his mouth and licked it clean of mraglean juice. He was half way through the same process with the middle finger before his stunned guest could manage to comment.

"Um, Jim," McCoy began, realizing just how drunk he was and how sober Jim was and finding those facts rather alarming. P> "I'm such a bad host, Bones." He was playing his tongue up and down McCoy's ring finger. "Not to have any napkins on the table. What a barbarian." (Spock and McCoy were feverently hoping not.)

He smiled wickedly as he devoured the little finger, running his teeth along it, up and down.

McCoy smiled politely, wondering just how he had ever come to this point and gently pulled his hand away from Jim's lips. It was gently but firmly pulled back, as if to demonstrate the differences in their strengths and temperaments.

Kirk was bent on a conquest; McCoy had seen it often over the years but never directed at him personally. He felt like a rabbit faced with a python.

Kirk pulled McCoy's hand a little closer.

"Leonard..." he began.

"You never call me Leonard, Jim," McCoy stated.

"May I?"

"No."

Kirk was momentarily taken aback; Spock elated; McCoy felt he had some ground under him. Then he felt the deck under him as Kirk pulled him out of his chair and onto the carpet.

"Then I won't," he murmured, settling his body full-length atop McCoy's.

He could feel McCoy trembling beneath him as he nuzzled his neck, ear and ran his fingers through the thick brown hair.

"Jim, stop."

Jim ignored this, playing his lips over McCoy's, feeling the trembling increase, knowing victory was at hand. He thought of his careful preparations: lubricant within easy reach ...

"Jim, please." More trembling. (Spock mentally wrung his hands.)

Jim ignored this, too, and returned to his kissing and his inventory: a towel under the pillow, some soft music .... He forced open McCoy's mouth in a demanding kiss and tightened his embrace, ignoring, also, the hands helplessly clenched against his shoulders. He spread McCoy's legs with his own, wishing they were naked, and ground his erection into the doctor's groin. He could feel the tension, resistance, and the lack of arousal in McCoy but he assumed the doctor would catch up eventually or next time or something. McCoy freed his mouth, Kirk descended to his throat.

"Captain Kirk, SIR." Firmly and coldly, it was more than Kirk could ignore. He went limp, all except his cock, against McCoy and dragged himself back under control.

He sighed against the object of his desire: so close, so close. He lifted his head to look at McCoy and then bent his neck to kiss him.

"JIM." McCoy was now in control of the situation and knew it.

Kirk rolled off him and lay on his back, staring up at the ceiling, willing his erection to abate. 'Down, boy, down.'

McCoy sat up, dizzy, and looked down at his old friend. "Now what," he carefully enunciated. "In the flying hell was that all about?"

A cooled off Kirk looked up and decided to lay all his cards on the table: "I'm madly in love with you. All I do is fantasize about making love to you. I want to hold you naked in my arms and feel you come and suck you until you beg..."

"Captain Kirk." McCoy cut in firmly, he could see Jim was getting carried away.

Kirk sat up and flashed McCoy a penitent smile under lowered lashes.

'How am I resisting this? I musta become a saint this afternoon,' McCoy thought dryly. "There is nothing in your psych profile that would ever lead me to conclude that you would want to have sex with me, Jim," he said clinically.

"It was a shock for me, too. I never thought I'd want to throw you on my bed, rip your clothes off and fuck you real hard, either."

(Spock went very still.)

McCoy was very still, remembering that that had happened not so long ago in Spock's quarters.

"Sorry." Kirk noticed McCoy had turned to stone and was sorry he shocked him.

"It's okay," the doctor muttered. "When did these fantasizes begin?"

"About five or six weeks ago."

'After Vulcan,' McCoy thought, stunned. There was suddenly a certain Vulcan he wanted to talk to very badly.

McCoy got to his feet and gave his Captain a hand up.

"Come see me in sickbay tomorrow, when I'm sober, and we'll talk some more."

Kirk was relieved that McCoy was so calm.

"Bones, I'm sorry, it won't happen again."

"I know." He smiled and on impulse gave the surprised Kirk a bearhug.

Kirk hugged him back, thinking pure thoughts and watched him leave his quarters.

'Now that's a friend,' he thought recorking the brandy.

* * *

"You have got to tell him."

"You are hysterical, Doctor." They were standing in Spock's deserted lab and it was very late.

"I am not hysterical, Spock," McCoy said patiently, "just very very very upset."

"You are also overreacting."

"I've just been jumped by Jim Kirk, one of my oldest friends. I find my reaction to be right on." McCoy was starting to lose his patience with the Vulcan's infuriating calm.

Spock was silent, not wishing to let on that he knew exactly what had happened and had failed to come to McCoy's rescue. He steepled his fingers over his lab bench and gazed at McCoy in what he hoped was a sympathetic manner.

McCoy was unmollified: "I don't know how it works with Vulcans but I think what's happening to Jim is he is feeling your, um, sexual desire for me through the bond, somehow, and he doesn't know it's not his own desire."

He waited to see if Spock was going to deny this but the Vulcan remained silent. McCoy continued: "It is not only unfair, it is unkind to let him keep thinking this way, Spock. It's causing a great deal of turmoil for him and now for me, too." 'But obviously not for you, you stubborn, callous, fucking Vulcan.' McCoy was starting to lose his temper.

Spock was thinking that Jim was feeling a little more than just desire through the bond but merely said: 'I shall take your concerns under serious consideration."

"SPOCK."

"Dr. McCoy," he said firmly, "I am not unaware of your distress, the Captain's confusion and I will give serious thought as to how to best proceed."

McCoy could be firm too: "If I feel that this situation becomes out of control, Mr. Spock, I shall request a transfer." 'And you can go straight to hell,' he finished mentally.

Spock lowered his eyes and McCoy felt like a jerk.

"You must, of course," Spock said calmly, raising his eyes, "do as you consider best, Doctor."

McCoy felt like a jerk squared. He spun and marched toward the door.

"Leonard." A caress.

McCoy stopped but did not turn.

"Are you all right?" Spock asked gently.

"Aside from hysterically overreacting to Captain Kirk's caveman come on," he inhaled, "I'm okay."

"Would you like me to stay with you tonight?"

McCoy turned. He smiled and relaxed for the first time in hours.

"Thank you, Spock, no. I am tired and just want to sleep. I want to be alone and think for a while, too."

"I understand. Sleep well."

"You, too, Spock. Good night." Good night, good night, and when you dream...

* * *

Captain Kirk never found time to go to sickbay and discuss the events of that night with Dr. McCoy. He did, however, refrain from molesting his CMO again (as he promised) and eventually the two friends settled back into their comfortable camaraderie.

Seeing the restoration of harmony between his lover and his bondmate, Spock decided it was unnecessary to tell Jim about the bond. No need to upset him when soon there will be nothing to be upset about, was the Vulcan's conclusion.

He further concluded that there was no harm in leaving the link open during sex with Leonard as long as Kirk's intentions did not become aggressive toward the CMO, which they did not. Having the link open was quite delightful for all three so why spoil it until he could get to Vulcan and have the bond undone.

Kirk continued to enjoy his fantasies and was content that that was all there would be. He felt virtuous in his unrequited lover state. He did occasionally tune out when he didn't like the content of his fantasy, such as when he was being fucked by McCoy (really unthinkable!). But that is the beauty of erotic fantasies: if you don't like the one you're in, you can always just switch to another.

McCoy gave up nagging Spock about Jim and the bond after Spock went on strike and didn't sleep with him for two weeks. Enough, already, a penitent McCoy decided it was not worth the trouble it caused and never broached the subject again.

'Everything is going well,' he prayed, 'let's not rock the boat.'

So they didn't and the mission continued without incidents amongst the three friends for quite a while.

* * *

EPISODE II

EVENTS AND CONSEQUENCES OF SAREK THE VULCAN'S AMBASSADORIAL MISSION TO ROVIRIN

En route to Rovirin, Sarek considered the wisdom of trying to bring that planet into the Federation. In a Federation High Council vote on Rovirin's initial request for diplomatic ties to the Federation, Terra had abstained in response to political pressure. Nonetheless, the vote had been overwhelmingly in favor of granting the Rovirin government's request for a Federation Consulate and it was Sarek's unenviable mission to negotiate the initial arrangements for this.

Although he had doubts as to the usefulness of a Federation Consulate on this obscure planet, it was not an unpleasant mission for Sarek himself. He had been on Vulcan for over a year recovering from his heart condition and was more than ready for a little travel. Rovirin was also of interest to him. Fluent in the language and interested in things Klingon, he had heard that the Klingon architecture and art on Rovirin were worth seeing. So there was something to look forward to.

Sarek was also hoping to catch a glimpse of Master Ghet. Known also as Gozine the Confessor, he had tremendous influence in the Klingon Empire due to his religious interaction with high ranking Klingons. especially the Hierophant Kroldt, it was known in diplomatic circles that Master Ghet exerted an anti-federation influence on the Hierophant Kroldt and Sarek, an admirer of Master Ghet's art, would like to know why.

The Hierophant was held in high esteem by any beings that had negotiated with him. He was reputed to possess a high degree of intelligence and sense. Kroldt was considered a visionary and the best hope for the future peace and prosperity of the Klingon Empire. This Hierophant was responsible for the new Klingon colonization policy of development as opposed to the old policy of devastation. Through the use of these ideas most Klingon interests in non-aligned space, mainly the Haat's interests, were booming. Sarek looked forward to the day he would meet this remarkable Klingon.

Although it was hard to know what was really going on in the Klingon Empire, intergalactic developments over the past ten years had made it appear that the Hierophant Kroldt was the most powerful man in it. Perhaps the second most powerful since the Hierophant seemed to be under Master Ghet's sway.

He was traveling light, just his assistant Sovort and secretary, Smirek. Lady Amanda had chosen to stay home due to the brevity of the mission; he would be there and back again within 200 Standard hours. Star Fleet had provided the USS Shilo, captained by Maria Norris, as transport. Star Fleet still had some interest in obscure planets in non-aligned space, especially those close to the Autonomous Zones due to their proximity to Romulan space and the close relationship these planets usually had with the local pirates.

Rovirin was rumored to be a base for the Tossarian pirates, led, alas, by Hobie Talljet. Sarek discounted this rumor, he believed that anywhere the Klingons were firmly ensconced, as they were on Rovirin, made it impossible for pirates to be in the area due to Klingon patrols. Especially Hobie; the Klingons had a huge price on his head and Hobie was too intelligent to put himself in harm's way. At least, that was Sarek's opinion.

Reviewing the file, Sarek noted that Rovirin had been fairly backward a mere three years previously. In that time Rovirin had developed a sophisticated manufacturing base, especially in mining and processing dilithium crystals. This was primarily for the Klingons but also for unspecified others. Surprisingly sophisticated financial and legal systems had also grown up alongside the mining operations. Apparently the Rovirians were anxious to protect their new found prosperity. Their leader, Yustala, negotiated with all off worlders himself and Sarek looked forward to meeting him. He was said to be a natural diplomat and had been able to keep peace with the pirates (before they decamped, Sarek assumed), the Klingons and the scores of other traders and workers who flocked to share Rovirin's new wealth and security. Klingons were not always the most welcome guests but whatever arrangement Yustala had with them, the Klingon patrols were definitely keeping the planet safe from attacks by Romulans, pirates and Rovirin's hostile neighbors.

Sarek was aware that not all of Rovirin wanted Federation affiliation as much as Yustala and the most delicate part of his mission was to win over Yustala's opponents. He was aware that one of the main opposers was Yustala's uncle, General Morel.

General Morel was largely responsible for Rovirin's security. He was most famous for defending the planet from invasion by the Nzirisirians. With minor aid from an unknown source, he had repelled the invaders, chasing them back into their space from which they had not ventured since. Also a natural diplomat, Morel had made rock solid alliances in the system, mainly on the force of his personality and sometimes with the force of his very sophisticated fleet. He was a respected leader, a warrior beyond reproach and even had the Klingons' respect. He was therefore not anxious to lose to the Federation the network of alliances he had so carefully built.

This did not concern Sarek. If negotiations with Rovirin came to nothing this year then they would try again next year, or the year after. No one except Yustala was in a hurry and he could be persuaded to wait if necessary.

Sarek closed his file. 'It will not be an onerous task and quickly over,' he thought. 'Yustala will be reassured by my arrival and Morel will be reassured by my departure. Nothing important will be accomplished this time but it will lay foundations for the future. And I will have a look at the marvels the Klingons are building for themselves there.'

* * *

"I hesitate sending you two off in the shuttlecraft again after what happened last time." Kirk stood in the dissection lab, addressing Spock and McCoy, who exchanged glances. "But Dr. Styren is most anxious to see you both."

"How long will it take to get there, Spock?" McCoy wanted to know, looking up from the creature he was dissecting.

"Approximately 15.67 hours," Spock looked up from his own creature's innards.

Kirk was eating a cookie while listening to the discussion. He had not made any further advances to McCoy but he was still attracted to him and enjoyed hearing his voice, especially, for some reason, when he talked to Spock.

McCoy looked at Kirk, who was mid cookie: "You want me to spend 15 or so hours in open space in a shuttlecraft, Jim, are you nuts?"

Spock cocked an eyebrow; this was typical of McCoy to be dubious of a perfectly safe situation.

"Not at all, Bones, I have great faith in the equipment and the pilot." 'Wiggle out of that, pal.'

"I have less faith in the equipment than you do, Jim, but if you insist I go, I'll go."

"I don't insist," Kirk said around another cookie, "but Dr. Styren is very impressed by your paper on silicone based life forms and would like to meet you. I'd hate to disappoint him."

'So would I,' thought McCoy. Dr. Styren of the Vulcan Institute was a legend in xenobiology. His work in the Plintes system was some of the hottest research published in the Federation. There could be no other reason for Fleet command to send a starship out of its way and a scientist of Spock's caliber on a simple data collection errand.

McCoy was actually quite flattered that Styren knew his work and wanted to meet him but he had to put up his usual cranky tussle about leaving his lab and sickbay and venturing into vast space in tiny craft, etc.

"And the new shuttlecraft we borrowed from the USS Odalla is rated for long distance, deep space flight, so you'll be perfectly safe."

"Famous last words," McCoy grumbled.

Kirk ignored him: "These are good cookies."

"I'm glad you're enjoying them. I don't think Spock got any before we started cuttin' up these critters." McCoy was very interested in his critter and rather wished Kirk would leave them to it.

"Cookie, Spock?"

Spock raised his gloved hands just enough to show that he was in no condition to feed himself a cookie.

So Kirk simply walked over to him and fed him a cookie. McCoy was amused to watch Spock lean away from the dissection table so Kirk could feed him.

Spock, on the other hand, was suppressing an urge to bite Kirk's fingers. Rather disturbing, he'd been having these odd impulses toward Kirk lately. There was probably a good reason but he had not had time to speculate.

They had all recently been under more stress than usual and they were feeling it. The creatures they were dissecting had killed two crewmen and injured three more collecting samples on Xrellian. There is always a risk on a new planet, however, the autopsies and funerals had not been very pleasant. The three injured crewmen were still recovering in sickbay from the creature's claws and venom.

'It would be nice to go do something simple, like data collection,' thought McCoy. He quickly made a mental review of the injured crewmen's conditions and knew they were out of danger and would be out of sickbay before he and Spock would leave for Plintes 3 and Styren's research station. So he really had no excuse not to go. He was actually looking forward to it.

"So," Kirk was saying, "We'll get you as close as possible, go map sector P846.54 for a week or so and come pick you up."

He offered Spock another cookie, which was declined and continued: "Styren asked Command specifically for you and Spock. It's a great honor, you know. Besides, Plintes 3 is type M, you'll get to breathe fresh air and walk on real ground; you love that."

McCoy scowled at him.

"All right, all right I'll go," he snarled, reaching for a small laser saw. He noticed Kirk make a face.

"Good." Kirk put down the cookie he'd picked up. "Well, I have things to do so I will leave you to your ... work," and left.

McCoy looked up at Spock and smiled: "Dissection is not for everyone, Mr. Spock."

"Indeed, Doctor."

PART 15

<P

McCoy's and Spock's errand to Plintes 3 was more design than accident. Spock had been in contact with one of Styren's assistants, Sirev, who was Spock's cousin by blood and Styren's cousin by marriage (the familial relationships were so complex the Standard word cousin was very useful to describe situations that required graphs and extensive knowledge of Vulcan history and custom to understand. Almost half of Vulcan is related by blood or marriage). Spock had written to Sirev to let him know how close the Enterprise would soon be to the Plintes system and encouraged Styren to request his and Dr. McCoy's presence on Plintes 3.

Dr. Styren obliged Sirev as they were both anxious to see Spock after his divorce. A Vulcan divorce is almost unheard of and surviving males even more so. The Kalifee was public knowledge. It is customary to record marriages and, in this case, the battle and its outcome. Unless the privacy seal is invoked the record can be accessed by anyone with access to the Vulcan data archives and an interest. Both had viewed the recording, both knew that T'Pring had been bonded to Stonn the next day and they were curious to hear Spock's side of it.

Vulcans, contrary to their stoic public image in the Federation, privately have a huge appetite for news about their fellow Vulcans. This is more commonly known a gossip in the rest of the galaxy. The research team on Plintes 3 had been away from Vulcan for a long time and were very much looking forward to a long session of "news" with Spock.

They were also looking forward to meeting McCoy whose work in xenobiology was much admired throughout the Federation by this time. He and Spock, in addition to being brilliant scientists, had been, in the course of the five year mission thus far, in the most enviable places in the galaxy to do research. In addition to his contribution to science, McCoy's role in the Kalifee was much discussed by the Vulcans - such deviousness was foreign but fascinating to them and they looked forward to meeting its perpetrator.

Spock was aware of all this from Sirev's letters and he was mulling it over as he packed. It had not occurred to him to invoke the privacy seal on the Kalifee, he was not disturbed by its public knowledge. In fact, it saved a great deal of explaining why he was not now married to T'Pring as he should be. As he had never wanted to be. What it did not explain clearly was why he lived and the most obvious conclusion most frequently drawn over the ensuing months had been that his diluted Vulcan blood had caused Spock to fail, yet again, as a Vulcan. He preferred and even encouraged this speculation.

He had recently, however, had a note from SaGolia of the eccentric Sa family on his birthday (she was one of the few beings that remembered his birthday) which had contained an odd postscript: 'PS. Spock, we Sas have watched the Kalifee over and over and over and don't believe for a nanosecond that your Terran blood saved you. You always out-vulcaned the Vulcans when you were a youth, logically you should be dead. SaMirt reminds us of old legends prior to the Surakian dictatorship that tell of warriors spontaneously bonding in battle, making peace and creating the alliances that were so cruelly crushed in the name of logic in the war of logical aggression by you know who. We all think this is rather farfetched but, then again, so are you and we are rather convinced if such a thing could happen it could only happen to you. We have concluded that you are bonded to Dr. McCoy because a) you were restored to sanity after he pushed you away from the prostrate Captain Kirk, and b) you couldn't possibly be bonded to someone as stupid as Kirk and he is the only other possibility. By the way, my door is always open to you but closed permanently to T'Pring and T'Pau. They are a disgrace to Vulcan womanhood if such a thing is still possible. Save me an Imman.'

Spock had marveled at SaGolia's astuteness and SaMirt's grasp of history. He had researched pre-reform legends and there was an obscure reference to such occurrences. He was directed to an epic poem in old Vulcan that was so dull even in modern translation he'd given up and taken SaMirt's word for it. SaMirt was a renowned Old Vulcan scholar and historian. Spock was also relieved that only the Sas would come to such an incredible and nearly accurate conclusion and that nobody amongst Spock's circle on Vulcan ever took the Sas seriously

'What circle?' he thought, 'my life there is over.'

He picked up a tube of lubricant and tossed it into his bag. Upon a second's reflection, he tossed in another.

~~~~~~

McCoy was unaware of Spock's machinations to get them to Plintes 3, he was simply glad to be going off with his lover. He dearly hoped they would find time to be alone and had packed an extra jar of lubricant in that hope.

He was ready for a break from the ship. His relationship with Jim had been back to normal for months but he had noticed a minute change between Jim and Spock. They were more in tune with each other, he'd noticed Spock watching Jim's hands more lately, and Jim had switched their chess games from the rec room to his quarters. McCoy was feeling a little shut out but he dismissed it because sex was better than ever with Spock. He wondered if Spock was reading erotica because the variety of his caresses was awesome

'He is positively inspired in bed these days,' McCoy thought fondly.

McCoy wondered if the bond was affecting Jim and Spock but Spock was so closed on the subject he could never bring himself to broach it. As long as peace and harmony remained among them why spoil it? At least that's how he reasoned.

He closed his bag and went to the shuttle bay where Spock was waiting for him and they set off for Plintes 3.

~~~~~~

McCoy had looked up from his reading in surprise when he felt Spock's warm hand on his thigh: "Don't you have to pilot this thing, Spock, perhaps you shouldn't be distracted?"

"Auto pilot." Spock pulled him out of his seat and onto the floor of the craft.

"Oh," McCoy got out before Spock's lips crushed his.

"Are you concerned, Leonard?" Spock broke the kiss and looked into his eyes.

"No." He pulled Spock back down to him.

They undressed each other and squirmed around in the limited space as best they could. They soon discovered a sixty-nine was the best position and applied themselves to some serious cocksucking.

McCoy ran his tongue around the head of Spock's penis, loving his taste and texture. He bobbed up and down as far as he could. By relaxing his throat he could get most of Spock down his throat without gagging. It was an accomplishment he was very proud of.

It was an accomplishment Spock was also very excited by. He played his tongue along the underside and then over the head of McCoy's cock. He fondled his scrotum and nuzzled the soft skin at the base of this cock.

McCoy was enjoying himself. He cupped Spock's ass in his hands and gave it a hard squeeze. He stroked the strong lean thighs and nuzzled his balls, sucking each in turn before returning to the pale green shaft. He sucked noisily on the head until Spock gave him an irritated swat.

The pleasure of the sensation is canceled out by the annoyance of the sound, he was thinking as he massaged McCoy's tingling cheek. He further thought he'd like to come and have a nap and to that end he swallowed the doctor's cock to the root.

Spock had very powerful throat and mouth muscles and soon had McCoy writhing in ecstasy.

"Spock, I can't ..." McCoy panted as he arched and came with a sob.

Spock planted a kiss on the now soft human flesh and moved around to where he was face to face with his lover: "You can't what, Leonard?" He held the shaking human in his arms and kissed him.

"I can't wait," McCoy breathed and rolled Spock on top of him and into a deep kiss.

McCoy broke the kiss and urged Spock's hips up along his body until the Vulcan was straddling his chest. A few more pulls and pushes and he had maneuvered Spock's still hard penis into his mouth.

Spock looked down at his lover and gently slid his cock a little farther into his mouth.

McCoy tilted up to meet him. This looked uncomfortable to Spock so he cradled McCoy's neck in his hands and thrust gently in and out. McCoy stroked the Vulcan's hardness with his tongue, lips and even, ever so gently, his teeth. He ran his hands over the warm hips and ass, wishing there were more room to make love.

Spock would also have liked to have fucked McCoy but contented himself with cumming in his mouth which was also delightful. McCoy sucked him dry and pulled off the still hard flesh, giving the head a last hard lick. Spock shivered with pleasure and rose to check the instruments. He pulled a thermal blanket from a cabinet and lay beside McCoy, covering them.

He pulled McCoy into his arms and pillowed his head on his shoulder, adjusting the blanket around him. He brushed some thick brown hair out of the way and kissed the human's forehead. McCoy snuggled a little closer and dozed peacefully. Spock contemplated at the stars on the viewscreen for a few moments and then dozed off himself.

They arrived on Plintes 3 in time for dinner which was vegetarian, of course.

McCoy's brief nap had not refreshed him and thirteen hours in the shuttlecraft's cramped cabin had taken their toll.

Dr. Styren had noticed his fatigue at dinner and suggested that he go to bed and sent them off with Sirev to show them the way.

Styren asked Spock to come back when he had settled the doctor in bed. McCoy had thought it was strange choice of words but was too tired to analyze it just then.

The research station on Plintes 3 is housed in regulation Star Fleet prefabricated indestructible and extremely ugly structures. Prior to the research station, Plintes 3 had been called Lokka and had been a base for Captain Tossar and his pirates. Captain Tossar's new lover, some said master, Hobie Talljet, seemed to have connections to a Klingon commune and brought artisans to build houses, parks, and plazas on the shore for Tossar's people. Tossar had chosen Lokka for the same reason he'd chosen Hobie, they were both beautiful. Lokka had warm seas and hot springs, abundant fresh water and food that could be picked off the trees. Its animal population was small and none of it interesting to hunt so that was the only drawback in this Pirate utopia.

The settlement the Klingon artisans designed and built was a work of art. Houses scattered as if randomly, separated by the natural flow of the terrain and yet unobtrusively connected by plazas and paths and all in a defensible to ground assault pattern surrounding the pirate's treasure vault. The artisan's engineers built aqueducts and drainage and hinged it all on a renewable solar and hydro energy source. It was so well designed that porch lights lit, water was purified, gardens were irrigated and the clocks kept perfect time even during the resident's long absences. It was a joy to live there and the pirates and their families lived there joyously between raids.

Until the Federation encroached into the quadrant two years ago and Hobie (Tossar was long dead by then), no fool, decided there were other lovely planets to build lovely houses on and Lokka was abandoned. Losing Lokka was yet another brick in Hobie's wall of resentment against the Federation and Star Fleet. Maja was not very happy about it either, the Gozshedrefreingin Commune had built some lovely structures there, now abandoned.

The Vulcan research team, however, were not stupid and moved immediately into the abandoned structures and enjoyed them very much. The houses had lines pleasing to Vulcan sensibilities inside and out, lots of windows overlooking the sea, wide doors opening onto patios and verandahs. The floors were covered with tiles made from indigenous clay and painted in colorful designs, the patios tiled in flagstones. The buildings were constructed from blocks of the local granite and the insides were plastered with a fine layer of cream colored clay that soothed the eye and kept the heat in during the winters.

Neither the pirates nor their treasure had been in residence when the starship transports had arrived but all their household goods were there. The lucky Vulcans inherited thick rugs, soft mattresses, warm blankets, fine linens, luminous porcelains, sparkling crystal, elegant furniture and paintings looted from all over non-aligned space.

The Vulcans closed up all but six of the houses around a plaza facing the sea and lived and worked in them harmoniously. They kept one house for their rare visitors and it was there Sirev led Spock and a sleepy McCoy.

Sirev brought them into the little house and showed them the two bedrooms, the kitchen, the sumptuous bath and the sitting room.

McCoy bid the Vulcans good night and stripped to shower. He felt odd in the spacious shower and looked forward to getting Spock in there with him as soon as possible. He toweled off and fell into the huge soft bed and was instantly asleep.

Spock returned to the Vulcans and accepted a cup of replicated Relan tea and thought wistfully of Jir's fresher brew.

They talked of Dr. Styren's work and related work by other scientists in the same field. Eventually Styren asked, in Vulcan, about Spock's parents.

"My father was ill but now he is well. My mother is also well."

"Why weren't they at your wedding?" Spock had almost forgotten Vulcan bluntness.

"I was still estranged from my father at that time." They were silent for a moment.

"I've known T'Pau for many years," Styren said, "but I cannot understand why she would allow the challenge to proceed with an offworlder."

"I believe she was merely following Vulcan law and tradition." Spock didn't really want to talk about it.

"Vulcan law and tradition only applies to Vulcans, Spock."

Styren continued softly, "Her actions were not only illogical they were cruel. She has caused a furor on Vulcan. The old families are making the most of it. They claim Surakian law, the bonding in childhood and the matriarchy are barbaric and should be swept aside and replaced by personal responsibility or free love or communal living, depending upon whom you talk to."

Spock wasn't comfortable being the focus of a new twist in a two thousand year old feud but what could he do?

Sirev spoke up: "I've had a letter from my grandmother, T'Poldi, she writes that the Ser's strongly disapprove of T'Pring's and T'Pau's actions and have called for T'Pau to step down from the High Council."

"On what grounds?" Spock was shocked, T'Pau had been on the High Council since before he was born.

"On the grounds that her judgment must be severely impaired to have so badly interpreted Surakian law that it became an instrument of cruelty for no better purpose than to humor T'Pring's whim."

"The Sa's, the Si's and the Ser's have all said that if T'Pau is an example of the best of the matriarchy then the matriarchy has run amok and its time is past," Styren put in. He was related to the Ser's by marriage of distant cousins and shared many of their opinions.

"T'Poldi also wrote that she had tea with SaGolia." Sirev's grandmother had interesting friends. "And mentioned that SaGolia had one of her strange dreams. In this dream all the great families of Vulcan went to a dance at the old Sa house, danced Immans and made peace with each other. SaGolia said that in her dream the Sa house was completely restored to how it was when she was a girl."

Which was a long time ago, Spock was thinking, but it explained the last line in her note to him. SaGolia believed her dreams were prophetic and, strangely, sometimes they were.

"She said all four Talljets were there, too, and all was forgiven." Sirev gazed at Spock. They had gone to the Western Vulcan Preparatory Institute together and he had known the Talljets there, too.

Spock raised his eyebrows: "That is quite a dream." The Vulcans nodded. Spock rose: "If you will excuse me, the journey has fatigued me as well so I will say good night."

Styren looked up at him: "Well, good night, Spock." He handed Spock a data wafer. "Here is the data you've come to collect. I give it to you now so you needn't rush out of bed tomorrow to start collecting it."

Spock stared at the wafer. Styren continued: "So that you and Dr. McCoy needn't rush out of bed tomorrow. You and the doctor may visit my lab anytime you wish while you are here but you may do as you please while you are here."

Sirev rose to walk Spock to the guesthouse.

Once out of earshot, Spock stopped and looked Sirev in the eye: "What does all this mean, Sirev?"

"Specify."

"The data collected in advance and the reference to not rushing out of bed."

"SaGolia has a theory that a bonding took place between you and Dr. McCoy in the Kalifee. She shared this theory with T'Poldi. T'Poldi mentioned it to her cousin, SerNevri, who mentioned it to Dr. Styren, his cousin-in-law. Your communication to me that it would be beneficial for you both to visit Plintes 3 has added to that speculation."

"I see." Spock clasped his hands behind his back to hide his irritation.

"Spock, Plintes 3 is a long way from Vulcan, it has taken over a year for the news to get this far and only because the Ser's are such a tight knit family did Dr. Styren hear about it. I heard about it from my grandmother, T'Poldi. I'm sure no one outside the old families knows about it or is interested in it. By now it's such old news, probably no one on Vulcan is talking about it anymore."

"And the other scientists here?"

"We all wish you and Dr. McCoy peace and long life, Spock."

Spock merely looked at him. Sirev continued: "The practice of keeping a male concubine is not unknown among Vulcans."

Spock sighed mentally.

"I hardly consider Dr. McCoy a concubine, Sirev."

"I mean no disrespect, Spock. Dr. McCoy's work in xenobiology is widely held in high esteem. I had considered his scientific ability to be a main factor in your attraction to him, in addition to whatever else is between you."

Spock was silently considering that eventually the five year mission would end and he would wish to make his relationship with McCoy public and probably official. He was not entirely dismayed that this group of respected Vulcan scientists were supportive of it already. It might cushion the blow of telling his family to have the support of one as well thought of as Dr. Styren.

Spock bid him good night and walked to the guesthouse where, seeing McCoy sleeping peacefully, he stripped and took a hot shower.

The sound of the shower woke McCoy and he rolled over. Then he stretched and sat up. His after dinner nap had refreshed him and he was looking forward to Spock's return. He tuned the bedside lamp on low and leaned back against the copious pillows to wait for his lover.

It was not a long wait; Spock was a fast bather by nature. He came out of the bathroom wearing the crimson robe McCoy had bought him two years ago on Arlisian 7.

"Did I wake you?"

"Yes, but I was hoping you would. Come on in, I feel lost all alone in here."

Spock slid beside his lover and took him in his arms. He pressed a long kiss on the doctor's lips and pulled him close.

McCoy drew back for air.

"What did you Vulcans talk about?" He asked breathlessly.

"I will tell you later." Spock was running his tongue down McCoy's chest. He paused to circle both hard nipples and proceeded lower. He spread McCoy's legs very wide and lay between them.

McCoy arched with pleasure when he felt Spock's hot breath on his cock. He was completely hard within moments of Spock twining his tongue around the head before swallowing it to the root.

"Oh, Spock."

Spock was too busy to reply. McCoy's taste and scent always excited him. He caressed the doctor's hips and ass and longed for deeper union.

So did McCoy and he reached down to pull the Vulcan up to him. He wrapped his legs around Spock and ran his tongue over his lips, licking his taste off them. While Spock grazed on his neck, he leaned over, opened a drawer in the table and handed the Vulcan a jar of lubricant.

Spock was pleased that McCoy had had so much foresight. He doubted he could have left the human to rummage for lube in his luggage. He rolled onto his back and McCoy on top of him.

"This is what I wanted in the shuttlecraft." Spock slipped slick fingers into the human.

"Me, too." McCoy rubbed them together as he moved to meet Spock's slippery, insistent digits.

Spock squeezed some lubricant into McCoy's hands and lay back as his lover made them both slick. He ran his hands up and down McCoy's thighs, teasing the sensitive inner thigh with his fingertips. He gently urged McCoy up and forward.

McCoy positioned himself over Spock's cockhead and moved slowly lower. He made the penetration slow and gentle for his own comfort and because it drove the Vulcan wild. He felt Spock's hands tighten on his thighs and watched him roll his head in pleasure.

After a moment of adjustment, McCoy slid all the way down. Spock moved his hands to the human's penis and began to caress him in long, slow strokes.

McCoy began to move in time with the Vulcan's hands on his cock. He slid up and down the length of Spock, slowly at first, increasing his tempo as Spock increased his. He changed his angle to feel the head of Spock's penis on his prostate and was suddenly very close to climax.

Spock was himself very close to climax and wanted McCoy with him. He increased the tempo of his caress and was gratified to feel the first drops of the human's effulgence on his belly. He thrust helplessly up into his lover and held him still, fully impaled, as he came.

Devastated with pleasure, McCoy fell forward into Spock's arms and lay there panting. Spock stroked his back with his warm hands and let his own breathing drop back down to normal. He moved McCoy enough to slip his still hard cock out and rolled the human onto his side.

They lay together in silence, drowsy but neither ready to sleep.

"We discussed the Kalifee," Spock began without preamble. "They believe I am bonded to you. I did not dissuade them. There is very little for us to do here because they have already collected all the data in anticipation of our visit. We may do as we please while here."

"You mean we get a little vacation, Spock?" McCoy's eyes glowed mischievously.

"Not entirely." That look in McCoy's eyes always made him a little wary. "We must look at Dr. Styren's lab and discuss his latest findings ..."

"Well, of course, I'm looking forward to that. But can we also sleep late and go to bed early?"

"They are expecting us to do that, Leonard."

"Do you mind, Spock?"

"Not at all." He pulled the human close and kissed his forehead. "But now let us sleep. This bed is very comfortable."

part 16

Yustala rose and paced behind his desk. Sarek regarded him silently.

"Ambassador." He stopped. "The pirates will not let Rovirin go easily. They have much at stake here. They consider this their home."

"I was under the impression that pirates and Klingons were never long in the same vicinity."

"These Klingons and pirates have come to an understanding. They both want our mineral wealth and are willing to share it between them. What we get out of this arrangement is merely to be allowed to continue to live."

Sarek considered that an understatement as he looked around the beautiful room in the palace the Gozshedrefreingin Commune had built for Yustala. He had been deeply impressed by the beauty of Milryia, the capital city, with its elegant buildings, sweeping plazas and wide boulevards, all built by the Gozshedrefreingin Commune. A mere two years ago it had few paved roads and no architecture of note. Yustala might curse the Klingons but at least their Commune had brought great beauty to Rovirin.

"What sort of understanding is between the pirates and Klingons?" This interested Sarek.

"They don't kill each other." Yustala said flatly. "My uncle Morel would know more, he is in contact with both groups. He likes them." Yustala scowled and looked out his window at the nearly completed Klingon cathedral.

Sarek looked at it, too. "Will he take me to see the cathedral?"

* * *

"I WANT HIM OFF ROVIRIN BEFORE SUNSET, MOREL." Hobie stood on the bridge of the Tien, in orbit with her sisters, the Maja and the Yaja, around Ficsionia. He was deeply disturbed that Sarek the Vulcan was on Rovirin.

"It shall be done, Captain Talljet," Morel said smoothly. "He wants to see the Klingon Cathedral tomorrow morning and I'll convince him then it is in his best interest to leave us." He turned to his aide, Colonel Imstk, next to him, "I do not feel Sarek plans to set up shop here, do you Imstk?"

"No, not at all, sir."

"Then see to it." Hobie was anxious to speak to Maja. "I will be there in three days to deal with your treacherous nephew." He broke the connection and made one to the Gozshedrefreingin Commune. Polmira's lovely face filled the screen.

"Father, I am pleased to see you."

"And I you, child, but it's late, why are you still awake?"

"I'm just on my way to bed. Will you speak with Master Ghet?"

"Master Ghet now? Is he not your uncle Maja?" Hobie teased.

"This is the Gozshedrefreingin commune, father." Polmira liked to observe the proprieties.

"Well, then, yes, please. Sleep well, little one."

Master Ghet appeared: "I can feel you from here. What's wrong?"

"Sarek is on Rovirin, in Milryia, and will be visiting the cathedral tomorrow morning."

Maja was stunned: "Oh, god! He must leave."

"So I have said to Morel and he promises to have Sarek gone by sunset."

Maja clasped his elbows with his tattooed hands, his one gesture of distress left over from childhood.

"Are you all right, Maja?"

"Yes, I think so. Why is he here?"

"Yustala wants to join the Federation."

"The swine! After all we've done for this dusty little ball of dirt!"

"I feel as you do, Noli."

"Why is Sarek coming to the cathedral?"

"I don't really know. I suppose he just wants to see it. Sarek was always interested in things Klingon. Probably wants to practice his Klingonese with native speakers, have a look at the building, view the latest marvel of the Klingon renaissance, as I hear it is called. You know you and Master Khat are rather famous, even in the Federation."

"Well, he can look all he likes but I'll keep everyone away from him."

"You could send little Farro out to talk to him."

Maja laughed: "Can you see blunt little Farro telling Sarek what he thinks? It would be quite amusing."

"Yes, very." Hobie was relieved to see Maja smile. "How are the JetCheqs?"

"Oh, fine. They study, they play, they work and everyone is happy and in good health."

"Polmira looks good."

"Polmira always looks good. I'm making him and Tien wear veils around the Klingons."

"If you're worried about the Klingons why do you let Kalzat make love to Tien?"

"Oh, Kalzat. He's one of the family by now." Maja waved a dismissive hand. "Actually, Hobie, I was thinking that when you come here you would take the JetCheqs and Kalzat for a visit to Jir on Orissa while we move the Commune to Zhaharnisha."

"I'd be happy to. What's on Zhaharnisha?"

"The usual. First a barracks, then a church and as many public buildings and villas as possible in the meantime."

"I see the Haats are going to build their planets into submission."

"I hope so. Blasting them into submission is so messy. Of course it eliminates the treacherous swine like Yustala from the gitgo."

"And the noble warriors like Morel as well."

They looked at each other and wondered when they would lose this home this time. It was the price of success and they silently gave thanks for the bigness of the galaxy. But still, it was sad; they were very fond of Rovirin.

"Hochofedra, Nolo," Maja shrugged. "I'll see you in three days. Godspeed."

"Godspeed, my Maja."

part 17

Yustala's request that his uncle show Sarek the nearly completed cathedral was speedily granted. In fact, Sarek was accompanied through the structure by Morel, Colonel KhalatzTzir, acting head of the garrison in General KizjietHaat's absence, and Master Khat.

"Impressive," Sarek commented, admiring the high vaulted ceilings, the murals and friezes. He also noted the inherent fortifications and the designed-in defensibility of it. 'Built to withstand a siege; very Klingon,' he thought. 'Beautiful; very Gozshedrefreingin Commune.'

Master Khat was explaining the technique used on the altar space, the upper part still covered with scaffolding. How the scenes are etched with acid and in some places cut with fine chisels before color is applied. The particular scene they were admiring was from a Klingon parable concerning fidelity. It was Saint Lyzkta, sole survivor of a massacre, slouching in a field of dead soldiers, greeting his commanding officer with his last breath and the news that the garrison, vastly out-gunned and out-numbered, had held its position. It moved all Klingons who saw it to tears.

Colonel Khalatz was blinking the mist out of his eyes when he heard scuffling on the scaffolding above him. He looked up just in time to see a body fall from it and instinctively held out his arms to catch it.

Tien Gozshedrefreingin baMajaKhat landed in the Klingon's arms and found himself held fast.

"You know, Tien," Khalatz commented casually while tightening his grip, "I have dreams like this."

Colonel Khalatz, alas, was one of the Klingons Master Ghet worried might rape Tien and/or Polmira.

"Let me down, Klingon!" Tien began to squirm in earnest.

"In my dreams," Khalatz continued serenely, "you finally realize and reward my devotion to you."

"And only in your dreams, you Targ-fucking Klingon bastard!" Tien spat, thrashing as best he could. "Put me down right now!"

"Really, Tien, your Klingonese grows more enchanting every day!" Khalatz pinned Tien's arms a little more firmly.

Master Khat was musing on what Tien was doing on the scaffolding when he had been explicitly ordered to stay in the painting workshop. He noticed Tien's brothers, Hraja and Farro moving out of the shadows and decided to act before they did.

"Colonel Khalatz," he said, "thank you for catching this creature. I am sure he has troubled you enough for one morning."

Khalatz looked into Master Khat's serious face and then into the even more serious faces of Hraja and Farro on either side of him. He considered his chances against the three of them, really four with Tien, and tossed Tien to standing.

Tien moved behind his Master with alacrity.

"Children, go to bed."

"It's bedtime somewhere in the galaxy and now, it's bedtime for you. Go." He swatted at them with the short whip Klingon Masters wore as part of their habit.

They went; they knew they were in trouble.

Sarek and Morel had watched the scene in various states. Morel with concern. Khalatz's interest in Tien was a joke in the Garrison. However, it was understood that Khalatz would take advantage of any opportunity to ravish Tien and the Commune made very sure that opportunity never occurred. Morel did not wish to see Tien brutalized, nor tensions between the Commune and the Garrison exacerbated further over this stupid issue.

Sarek was merely wondering why he felt a resonance to this beauty in himself. He had felt a low, familiar vibration upon entering the cathedral but he had attributed it to the telepathic Patois speaking communists, keeping out of sight but very much present nevertheless. The vibration had increased as they neared the altar and was a low, pleasant steady drone by the time Khalatz let go of Tien. The drone had dropped back to vibration as the trio of youngsters disappeared into the building. Out of the corner of his eye he noticed a shadow moving off but assumed it was just another errant communist.

The quartet turned their attention back to the cathedral and the tour continued.

Master Khat was elaborating on the symbolism of a statue of Saint Ozkirt, patron saint of conducting and withstanding sieges, when General Morel was called away by one of his aides.

It was in the crypt area, where all the Klingon Bishops for this cathedral would be buried, that Colonel Imstk arrived with a squad of soldiers and arrested Sarek as an agent provocateur.

part 18

"On course for Plintes 3, sir." Chekov stated briskly.

"We'll be a day early," Kirk mused aloud. "We can surprise Mr. Spock and Dr. McCoy."

"Aye, aye, sir."

* * *

"This is madness, Gozine." Master Khat was arguing for the tenth time that afternoon. "You will put yourself at risk when you can do nothing for him. Our best course is to wait for your brother..."

"I think that unwise." Master Ghet said flatly, removing the bronze runes, duplicates of the runes on his hands, from his habit's cloak thus making it anonymous. He had already changed his cassock for a black shirt and trousers. He was now stuffing dried fruits, vegetables, nuts and water tabs into the inner pockets, next to the doubloons, knives, rope, pencil and drawing pad. The dilithium crystals were sewn into the hem as usual. He completed these activities and turned to rubbing a cream that covered the tattoos into his hands. Finished, he put the tube in his cloak also.

Shortly after Sarek had been arrested the Commune received the news that Colonel Imstk had declared a state of emergency and himself provisional head of the government. He had the full support of Colonel Khalatz and the Garrison. Yustala and Morel had nothing to say as their heads were on stakes in front of the Palace of Government.

The Commune had wisely barricaded themselves into the cathedral at this news. This was their usual practice in times of civil unrest. It was advantageous in another way. When Khalatz arrived with his own guards to demand not only Tien but also Polmira, the Commune was not at home to them. They surmised that Khalatz was assessing how much damage he could inflict on the cathedral and commune with impunity. General Kizjiet would arrive in three days with the Hierophant Kroldt, whom he'd gone to fetch for the cathedral's consecration.

"You sent for me, Master." Tien entered sheepishly.

Master Ghet gave him a hard look. In the confusion following Sarek's arrest Tien's escapade had been overlooked. But not forgotten.

"And just what were you doing on that scaffolding?" Master Ghet gave his oldest son his full attention.

"I wanted to see whom you didn't want me to see." Tien knew only the truth would do here. He lowered his eyes.

Master Khat raised his eyebrows and almost smiled. Master Ghet did neither: "Why?"

"The way you told us to stay out of the cathedral, Master," he raised his eyes. "Something so strange was in your voice that I had to know who could make you sound ... "

The Masters waited.

"... sad and afraid at the same time. I'm sorry to disobey you but I had to know."

Master Khat drew a breath and hoped Gozine would not be too harsh with Tien.

Master Ghet merely looked at Tien with sorrow and love and regret that he did not know his first son better. Of course Tien would have tried to see what provoked him. Hadn't he himself overreacted to Sarek's arrival? Hadn't he himself skulked around in the shadows just for a glimpse of SpockDeVulCheq's father?

"Well," Master Ghet said quietly, "so now you know." He turned away.

"Leave us, please, Tien." Master Khat murmured. Tien closed the door quietly behind himself.

Master Khat turned back to Master Ghet but he had already gone.

* * *

"Order the Dancer, the Lokka and the Skolta to rendezvous with us at Rovirin." Hobie was seriously alarmed by the news from that planet.

'More speed,' he thought, 'more speed.'

* * *

Spock woke next to McCoy on the penultimate morning of their stay on Plintes 3 and felt his bondmate very near and very aroused. He reached for McCoy and kissed him awake.

* * *

Kirk had located McCoy's communicator and had beamed down nearby it in the cool gray dawn light. He was moving around the house, creeping up to the shuttered doors of the bedroom where he assumed McCoy was sleeping. He planned to surprise the doctor. Although he had behaved himself these many months, Kirk still enjoyed as much intimacy with McCoy as the doctor would allow. Surprising him in bed was just the sort of almost unacceptable liberty Kirk dared take with him. He found it rather odd but pleasant that the prospect of watching McCoy sleep was so arousing. He moved up to the shutters and peeked between them at the object of his affection. And froze.

Spock was exploring the inside of Leonard's mouth as he had every dawn since their arrival on Plintes 3. Leisurely morning sex was perhaps the most pleasant part of the stay. McCoy was responding with his usual fervor. He spread his legs and wrapped them around the Vulcan's waist as they provocatively ground their erections together.

Kirk stood transfixed, wishing he could free his suddenly painfully hard cock from his pants. He was silent and still, watching intently, not wanting to give his presence away. And yet, as Spock pulled back the covers, he vaguely felt that the Vulcan knew he was there and was giving him the best possible view of the proceedings.

Spock was almost overwhelmed by Kirk's, McCoy's and his own arousal. His hands shook as he squeezed lubricant onto his fingers and applied it to McCoy and himself. He rolled the doctor forward and centered his cock at the tight opening. He gently pressed the head in and watched breathlessly as McCoy arched against him with pleasure.

Kirk simply stopped breathing as Spock buried himself to the hilt in McCoy. He resumed breathing when the Vulcan established a steady rhythm fucking the doctor. He was almost wild with arousal when McCoy, the object of his denied desire for so long, thrust up wantonly to meet his lover's strokes. He watched them thrash together as they came and drew on measures of self-control he didn't know he had not to come himself.

'I must have him,' Kirk thought of McCoy.

/then come, t'hy'la, and have him/

McCoy, curled in Spock's side, did not see the door silently open. He was still breathing hard in the aftermath of a profound orgasm and was thoroughly enjoying Spock's fingers, on his cock and at his temple, stroking him to hardness again. This was something new but he attributed it to the limited amount of time they had left here together. They had certainly made good use of it thus far. He stretched voluptuously and rolled his head to see Kirk standing over him, smiling wickedly.

Spock microscopically tightened his grip on the doctor when McCoy recoiled against him. It was subtle but the 'lie still' message was not lost on the human.

McCoy could only wonder why Spock was still holding and stroking him with Jim standing there. And then Kirk pulled off his tunic and T-shirt and all doubt evaporated.

Kirk dispensed with his clothes, never breaking eye contact with McCoy. He was pleased when Spock hooked his ankle under McCoy's and spread the doctor's legs for him. He gratefully slid between them and silenced whatever McCoy started to say with a deep, forceful kiss. Kirk was enjoying the feel of McCoy's skin on his, especially his belly against Kirk's hard cock.

Spock broke contact and moved back to watch them. He could feel his bondmate swoon with pleasure as he rolled the doctor forward and slid his cock into him. He could feel McCoy trying to resist his own shocked erotic excitement as Kirk took him. Spock ran a warm hand down Kirk's back and flank, slowing his motions and coaxing him into a calmer rhythm. He reached for the tube of lubricant and squeezed some on his fingers. He reached between them to stroke McCoy reassuringly as he slipped his fingers between the cheeks of Kirk's fine round ass.

Kirk had given a surprised thrust when Spock had slipped a slick fingertip into him. He thrust further into McCoy trying to elude the Vulcan's warm finger, thrusting into him. He slid back when Spock did. Very soon Kirk began to enjoy the sensation and found himself sliding out of McCoy and onto Spock's now two fingers and back into McCoy. He was awash in the multiple sensations of Spock's fingers in him, he in McCoy and McCoy's passionate and surrendered lips on his (McCoy had finally gotten over his shock and was engrossed in his incipient second orgasm of the morning.) Kirk, feeling the doctor's urgency, quickened pace and was gratified to feel McCoy thrusting against him, moaning against his mouth.

Spock wiped his fingers on a towel and applied a generous amount of lube to his own hard cock. He waited patiently for Kirk and McCoy to come.

Kirk was very close and knew McCoy was right behind him. He shortened his thrusts and ground his belly against the doctor's cock. He was gratified to hear McCoy's voluptuous groan and feel the first drops splash between them. He flung himself against the doctor thrice and collapsed on top of him, shuddering in his own wild climax. He lay atop the object of his desire, groaning with pleasure while McCoy gently stroked his broad shoulders.

McCoy felt more than saw Spock moving behind Kirk. He slipped first one leg and then the other between Kirk's and spread them very wide for the Vulcan. He very slightly tightened his hold on Jim's shoulders and looked Spock right in the eye as the Vulcan knelt between the four human legs.

Kirk jumped slightly at the feel of inhumanly warm hands spreading his cheeks. Whatever he would have said about it was silenced by McCoy's lips on his. Knowing he could have stopped Spock with a word, he was silent. It somehow seemed only right that as he had just made love to McCoy that Spock should now make love to him. He allowed himself to feel firmly held helpless between them. He hoped Spock would somehow realize it was his first time and be gentle.

McCoy felt Kirk's trepidation and soothed him.

"Relax, Jim, relax."

Spock was very gentle. He thrust gently against the entrance to Kirk's body until his cockhead slipped past the tight pink ring and stopped. He held there allowing Kirk to get used to the feeling.

McCoy held Kirk in his arms and planted kisses on his lower lip, soothing away the wince of pain.

"There, that's the hardest part. Now, push against him."

Spock slid in a little deeper. He adjusted his weight and the angle of Kirk's hips so McCoy was not crushed.

'Ever the gentleman,' McCoy thought. He wondered if this was such a good idea but knew they were too far into it to stop. He watched Spock's eyes fall shut as he achieved full penetration. McCoy knew that look and he wasn't sure he liked seeing it just now. He turned his attention back to Kirk, whose cock had slipped out and was hard again, moaning against his neck. McCoy reached between them to stroke Kirk in the same rhythm as Spock's gentle thrusts.

Once the pain had transmutated to pleasure, Kirk found he was enjoying himself very much. He moved his lips to McCoy's and tilted his neck to give Spock's lips better access to it. He rubbed his cock voluptuously against McCoy's belly and writhed beneath Spock's thrusts. He found himself at the threshold of his climax and held there, enthralled and enfolded in the rush of sensation between his two lovers. He thrust against McCoy until he felt the doctor responding with his own climax. Kirk groaned with pure animal pleasure as he came and felt Spock thrust all the way in and come himself. The rush of hot cum and hard jerking cock inside him was like nothing Kirk had ever imagined and he was nearly overwhelmed with pleasure.

McCoy, breathless, let them rest for a moment before he slid out from under them and went into the bathroom. He closed the door and ran a hot shower.

'This was a mistake,' he thought, stepping under the spray. 'I wonder just how bad a mistake.'

He was presently joined by Spock and Kirk, looking somewhat ill at ease.

'I wonder what happened after I left' McCoy speculated, sluicing the soap from his body, 'couldn't have been much, I've only been in here a few minutes.'

Kirk rinsed off and pulled the doctor into a deep kiss. He had felt more at ease with McCoy in bed and was glad to be with him again.

McCoy gently pulled away, drew Spock into his arms and kissed him sweetly. He moved back to rinse his pleasure-sated body once more and stepped out of the shower. He wrapped himself in the light robe he'd brought and wandered into the kitchen to replicate some coffee.

Kirk came into the kitchen wrapped in a towel and sat next to him at the table. He was still trying to overcome the awkwardness that had sprung up between him and Spock after McCoy had left them in bed. As Spock slipped out of the human, Kirk had felt suddenly violated and vulnerable in a strange way. As if Spock were manipulating his desires from a distance. He had wanted to fuck McCoy, had wanted to for months and after Spock made it possible, Kirk was disturbed that, even though he'd enjoyed Spock fucking him, the Vulcan would ask, take, payment for it. He pushed his discomfort away and concentrated on McCoy, slicing up some local fruit in front of him.

"Hi," Kirk murmured, realizing it was the first word he's spoken since arriving.

McCoy looked up and laughed a little: "Hi. Welcome to Plintes 3, Jim."

"Thanks," Kirk smiled, "you and Spock seem to be enjoying it."

"And you're not?" McCoy challenged but didn't get an answer.

Spock came in wearing the crimson robe McCoy had given him. He sat and accepted a plate of fruit.

Kirk was eyeing him, or rather, was eyeing the robe he was wearing.

"Spock," Kirk said, relaxing in his curiosity, "where did you get that robe?"

"It was a gift from Dr. McCoy."

Kirk sat back and did some math.

"Bones, is this the robe you bought on Arlisian 7?"

"Yes."

"I saw you buy it. I thought it was for me."

"Red is not your color, Jim."

"I know, that's why I thought it was odd that you were buying it and then when I didn't get it I guess I forgot about it." Kirk frowned. Spock and McCoy exchanged looks, wondering what this was about.

"We were on Arlisian 7 over two years ago."

"True, Jim, what of it?"

"How long have you and Spock been lovers?"

McCoy hesitated so Spock answered: "Two years, four months and eleven Standard days."

Kirk was silent.

"Since right after the Galileo mission." McCoy offered quietly.

Kirk was nonplussed. McCoy sipped his coffee and wondered what was next.

"'Two years, four months and eleven Standard days'." He repeated quietly. "And I thought your affair began here, on Plintes 3."

McCoy gently shook his head.

"Bones," Kirk said thoughtfully, "You've had dozens of women over the past few years, haven't you?"

"Well, yes, a few I suppose. I haven't been counting but...."

"Twenty-seven," Spock said flatly.

"...but twenty-seven sounds about right," McCoy finished nodding at the Vulcan.

The humans sipped their coffee in silence while Spock drank his fruit juice.

"I had no idea," Kirk continued. "All this time, neither of you let on."

They shook their heads at him.

"And all those afternoons you weren't talking about science, were you?"

"Well, actually, we did talk about science some, Jim." McCoy drawled. "It is what we do."

"Hmmm." Kirk was considering how well they'd not let their relationship affect their duty. He realized he loved them both and wanted to be part of their menage. But he wanted to remain Spock's friend and become McCoy's lover, or rather continue to be McCoy's lover. He had not, however, worked out how this was to be accomplished on a starship full of observant humans.

"And no one knew about you?" Kirk said, dropping out of his musing.

"Not as far as I know." McCoy picked up the empty plates and headed toward the sink.

"Nor I." Spock stood and went to help McCoy wash up.

Kirk watched them move with the grace of two people deeply in tune with one another. They had always been like that when they were together. He had always attributed it to Spock's surprising sensitivity and the cool space of peace he kept around himself and to McCoy's natural graciousness and warmth. And yet they were opposites: Spock was silent and solitary, rebuffing almost everyone and McCoy warm and gregarious, drew everyone to him. But here they were, lovers since almost the beginning of the mission. He now perceived it as the sexual peace lovers of long-standing make between them. The simple ease of learning, accepting and loving your partner for what he is and letting go of any regrets for what he is not.

Kirk had never been with anyone long enough to have ever had that. He closed his eyes, remembering the pleasure of fucking McCoy. He pushed it away, for the moment, rose and went back into the bedroom to dress.

"I hope to god you know what you're doing, Spock." McCoy murmured.

Spock lowered his eyes and did not answer.

part 19

Sarek had slipped into a healing trance just prior to being beaten into unconsciousness by three of Imstk's guards. He was thrown into a crowded cell whose inmates relieved him of his fine clothing. One of them had shown pity on the half-dead man and tossed some rags around him.

The cell was crowded because a prison ship was due the following morning to transport the occupants to a prison colony on Rist 8 in the Trza system in non-aligned space. These prisoners would be worked to death in the mineral field there. The dead Yustala had made this arrangement with the Ristians. It was a simple way to dispose of criminals, rebels, maniacs and other troublemakers. The Rovirin coffers even received four Ristian gold ducats per prisoner. He could not have dreamed that Sarek of Vulcan, his invited guest, would now provide an additional 4 ducats.

Sarek was deep inside himself and so at first did not feel the gentle hands on his bleeding brow. He just barely felt the skin pull tight and smooth as the gashes there knitted together. They caressed his broken jaws, restoring the bone and mending the shattered teeth. He felt energy coalesce in his nose and could almost hear the cartilage reassembling itself. The hands moved down to the aching broken ribs. He felt the tips of the bone moving back into place and out of his lungs. He felt the pain of mere breathing subside. He could even feel his punctured lung heal and reinflate.

For a moment the hands left him and he sank back down into his trance.

The hands returned. He felt them moving over his stomach healing the bruised flesh there. They lingered over the bleeding internal organs, pouring pure healing energy into them, making them whole again. The hands moved over his bruised and bleeding groin where the guards had kicked him with steel tipped boots.

Sarek felt the hands recoil for a moment and return. He thought he could just hear someone crying softly but he preferred not to come close enough to consciousness to investigate. The healing continued in his groin area. He felt the ache in his genitals ebbing away and the blood flow restored.

He felt the unseen hands move down his legs, healing the bruised thighs and shattered kneecaps. They vanished for a few moments and returned to soothe away the bruises on his calves. They progressed to the torn cartilage in his ankles and his broken feet. He could almost feel the bones and tissue knitting together.

Sarek was now strong enough to focus his own healing energy in assistance of the hands. He let his consciousness roam over the areas the hands had healed and moved with them to his back and neck. Together they explored the damage inflicted with phaser rifle butts and clubs.

'Why didn't they shoot me?' Sarek wondered weakly.

/they are savages/

Sarek felt this waft gently through his consciousness and then it was gone. He returned his attention to healing his body.

Maja let the tears run freely down his face as he pulled Sarek's agony away from the Vulcan and into his own body. Three times he had had to stop before the pain and damage caused him to lose consciousness himself. Twice he'd stopped to fight off predators that found him and his clothes too interesting. They'd jumped him from behind while he was preoccupied. He'd broken their necks and left their bodies nearby as a warning to anyone else with the same idea.

The MageCheq thanked god repeatedly for the thick Vulcan skull on Sarek. It had been fractured but there was no brain damage. Had Maja found brain damage there would be nothing to be done for it. He was shaking with pain as he carefully explored each of Sarek's vertebrae, probing for spinal damage and weeping with relief at finding none. He stroked the base of the Vulcan's skull soothingly, feeling Sarek's healing trance take over. Maja broke contact and sat back on his heels to rest. Weak as a babe, he stared down a big Rovirin male moving in his direction. Even from ten meters Maja could feel the violence in the big male's mind and quickly entered that mind and changed those thoughts to more pacific ones. The Rovirin wandered off, suddenly very interested in something on the other side of the cell.

Maja felt Sarek stirring to consciousness in his mind and wondered how deep a link they had forged in the healing. In his rush to save the old Vulcan's life, forming a link with Sarek was a risk Maja had not had any time to contemplate. He stroked the high forehead with his fingertips, easing the Vulcan into a deeper sleep. Maja needed time to decide what to do next now that he was stuck here.

Maja had slipped out of the cathedral and into its shadow, very near the door Sarek had been led out of. He had to find a trace of Sarek's psychic energy somewhere.

'I could track you by your shadow, Spock,' he'd once boasted when they were youths. Spock had dared him and Maja had tracked him to a secluded spot near the Forge. He'd been rewarded with an embrace and they had stayed there learning each other's pleasure until nightfall. They'd caught hell when they got home but it was worth it.

'Ah, there,' Maja sighed softly. The memory had vibrated around him, spreading its energy in all directions. It caught an eddy of Sarek's energy field and Maja could feel where it lead. Sarek was well shielded but like all beings he left a trail of energy wherever his body was. His energy was alarmingly faint and Maja quickened his pace through the shadows following it. Even at this distance he could almost feel the beating Sarek had taken.

'Keep living, Vulcan, keep living.' Maja chanted as he flew through the dark and empty streets.

Getting into the prison was easy. The guards were distracted by the change in government and inattentive to anyone trying to enter the structure. He influenced several guards into opening locked doors for him. Maja had quickly found the cell and Sarek. He flung himself on the battered Vulcan and poured his own life energy into the prone form. When he felt the life force regenerating he went to work healing the injuries before Sarek bled to death or drowned in his own blood.

'Thank the infinite mercy of god these Vulcans are a sturdy species.' Maja thought between taking Sarek's injuries onto himself. He had had to pause to let his own body heal itself, which it did with its empath quickness.

Maja watched warily as several prisoners came close and tossed Sarek's boots and clothing to him. The general consensus among the prisoners, having seen Maja in action, was that it was extremely unwise to provoke someone with so powerful a protector and so what had been taken was returned. Maja had smiled coldly and pulled the garments back on the Vulcan.

'Easier to get them off than on,' he thought as he redressed Sarek. Another prisoner, one of the weaker ones, came near with a mute offer of help but was chased off with a scowl.

'I cannot protect you, too,' Maja thought savagely. 'I'm not sure I can protect anyone.'

Now that the Vulcan would surely live, Maja turned his attention to a new problem. There were no guards around to influence into opening the cell door and letting them walk out. Everything was securely locked down and he noticed the surveillance cameras. This prison was designed to allow the guards to remain at a safe distance from the prisoners. The floors and walls could be selectively electrified to break up fights and other disturbances the guards monitored from their stations on the ground floor. It was a brilliant design. Maja should know because the Gozshedrefreingin Commune had designed and built it. He was very aware of how escape-proof it was.

'Well, let's hope Kalzat can pull us out of the crowd when we're moved to the transport ship in the morning.' Maja thought as he curled around Sarek. Knowing Sarek was still in a weakened state, Maja let his own health energy radiate into the sleeping Vulcan. Spock had always liked sleeping next to Maja, even for short naps, because he always felt so refreshed and renewed when he woke. Anyone who sleeps in an empath's arms has the same experience.

part 20

KalzatMzir stood in the shadows under the prison assessing the situation and it didn't look great.

Plan A was to create a diversion when the prison ship began to load. The main problem was that the Commune did not know where, exactly, this would take place.

Kalzat was not a telepath so he was relying on Tien, Farro, Polmira, Master Pzchaz and Master Whilla to jump one of the guards and pull it out of their thick head. So far all the guards they'd jumped had not known the location and time was growing short.

Tien swung silently around the corner and into his arms.

"They'll load from the east gate, darling," he whispered.

This was bad news but better than not knowing. The east gate was the most visible and best defended and therefore the most reasonable to use for loading a mass of prisoners.

"Good work, fara. Round everyone up and meet me by the east gate. Good thing you got lucky."

"Luck is for rabbits," Tien stated flatly, shaking his hair off his shoulders. "However, we will need some at the east gate." He pecked Kalzat on the cheek and was gone.

* * *

Sarek came cautiously to consciousness. His most recent conscious experiences had been excruciating and he was not anxious to meet them again. However, he pushed his reservations away and slowly, carefully, came to full awareness. The first thing he noted was that he was no longer in agony. The second was that someone was curled up next to him with their head on his chest. He drew back to look at the creature, who was looking up at him.

"Maja?" Sarek was so stunned he could barely sigh out the syllables.

"Yes, Lord Sarek," Maja whispered in his heavily Rom accented Vulcan. "How do you feel?"

"I still have some pain in my legs but otherwise fine." He pulled Maja's hand away from his thigh, noting that Maja still had an accent one could cut with a knife after all these years. "What are you doing here?"

"Trying to fix you up," Maja snapped, reclaiming his hand away and placing it firmly back on the Vulcan's thigh.

Sarek, remembering how determined Maja Talljet could be on Vulcan, did not resist. He was still and glad when the pain was gone. He felt weak but knew only time would cure that. And hungry but knew from his surroundings there was likely no help for that.

Maja reached into his cloak and drew out a handful of Beva nuts. Sarek, somewhat surprised, gratefully accepted them, along with a water tab.

"Where are we?" Sarek asked between nuts.

"In the transport prison."

"What is that?"

"It's the prison where persons deemed to be incorrigible are held until they are transported to a prison work planet. This lot is bound for Rist."

"Are we part of this lot?"

"Unfortunately, yes." Maja accepted a Beva nut from Sarek's hand and fell silent. They sat together quietly. Sarek was gathering his strength for the next conversation, which he expected to be difficult.

"Now, Maja," Sarek said firmly, "tell me what you are doing here."

Maja sighed and launched into the edited version of the truth he'd prepared for Spock's father.

"I saw you arrested in the cathedral and followed you here. I got in and healed you as best I could. I'm hoping some friends will rescue us before we get loaded onto the prison ship that is coming in the morning."

Sarek listened to this brief account and found it a little too streamlined. He waited an appropriate amount of time to determine that Maja had no more to say.

"Why were you in the cathedral?" he asked levelly.

"I work there," Maja replied shortly.

"Are you with the Commune?"

"Yes."

"What do you do there?"

Maja considered saying 'I'm a bed boy' but suppressed it. He said instead: "I cut stone and cast metals and paint a little." 'True enough for you, Vulcan,' he thought.

Sarek decided to accept this because he remembered Maja drawing and painting on Vulcan. He even had a pen and ink landscape Maja had given him in a fit of affection for his son. He looked at it every day in his office on Vulcan.

"How do you come to be with the Commune?" Sarek asked.

Maja compressed his lips. Sarek remembered this as a sign of irritation but did not withdraw the question. He waited a reasonable amount of time for an answer.

"Maja, I asked you..."

"Sarek," he snapped, "this is not the time or place for you to interrogate me. Why don't you go back to sleep for a while?"

Sarek knew he wasn't up to a fight just then. He decided a brief nap would refresh him and dozed off.

Maja watched over his sleep and felt a little guilty for being short with the Vulcan.

'These are,' Maja thought, 'after all, only logical questions.' He arranged Sarek's cloak to better cover the Vulcan. In the quiet of the cell he began to pray that the Commune would get them out of this.

* * *

Kalzat's plan could have been used in a textbook at the Klingon Academy where he had recently been to school. The plan was elegant in its simplicity. Members of the Commune would create a diversion while a small band with phasers stunned their way into the mass of prisoners and liberated Master Ghet and Sarek the Vulcan. It could only fail if the diversion was not great enough or the amount of guards was larger than expected.

Kalzat surveyed his preparations from the shadows and thought of how much he loved Master Ghet. He'd been raised in the Commune when his father was executed for displeasing the Emperor and his mother, Kaziria, sought refuge there. Kalzat had grown up with Tien and they'd fallen in love. Kaziria's family had made peace with the Tajz and she was allowed to return. Her son was offered a place in the Klingon Academy and reluctantly followed his mother back to the homeworld. Two years were enough to prove to him and everyone around him that, although he was a brilliant student and tactician, he had been in the Commune too long to possess the temperament required of a Klingon Warrior. It was a relief to come home and just be Kalzat again.

The Commune was glad to have him back as well. One never knew when one would need a brilliant tactician. Especially in the places this Commune found itself.

Such as the one they were in now. If this plan did not work Master Ghet would be forced into a prison ship bound for hell and the Commune had no way to follow until Captain Talljet arrived in two days.

'We shall succeed,' Kalzat chanted as his mantra, checking his phaser for the nth time.

In the dim, pre-dawn light he watched the prison ship dock and extend the loading ramp. The huge doors opened on the darkness within and Kalzat could smell the stench of filth and decay. It was how he imagined the mouth of hell must be.

The Klingon was encouraged to see only twenty guards, ten on either side of the ramp, take up their positions.

'We shall succeed. We shall succeed. We shall succeed. Please god ... '

* * *

"Sarek," Maja whispered as the cell doors banged open. "We're going. Stay close to me."

Maja helped him to his feet and supported the Vulcan toward the doors. Orders to move out of the cell were barked over loudspeakers. Evidently the throng of prisoners was not moving fast enough because a low level shock went over the floor.

Maja and Sarek, being Vulcanoid, were not much discomforted by the shock but did not wish to feel it again. They joined the swifter crowd surging out the door and down the corridor.

Maja cursed in Patois. Still no guards to influence so they could slip away. Perhaps, with luck, when they were outside, between the gate and ship. But which gate? And how far is the ship? 'Please god, let Kalzat be successful.'

* * *

Kalzat and the Commune had moved into position when Imstk and over a hundred of his guards arrived. Imstk directed his thugs into position along the ramp, behind the twenty regular prison guards. Kalzat noticed the proceedings were being recorded.

'Imstk must want proof of what a great danger he saved Rovirin from. An old Vulcan who didn't want any trouble in the first place.' Kalzat sneered, trying to keep his sinking spirits up. He caught sight of Tien's worried face in the crowd coming toward him.

"We're ready," Tien murmured. "This looks bad, lover."

"It should not affect us," Kalzat assured him. "You get the diversion going and leave the rest to me."

Tien disappeared back into the crowd.

Kalzat surveyed the scene and concluded that he would have to stun eight or nine, instead of two or three, guards to get to Master Ghet.

'I can do this, I know I can.'

* * *

Maja and Sarek stepped blinking into the dawn and toward the ship. Maja looked with horror at the guards five deep on either side of them. There were too many to distract or influence. He prayed they were not too many for the Commune.

At that moment he heard screaming and the sound of a huge engine. He caught sight of a burning truck crashing through the crowd from the north. He looked south and felt more than saw Kalzat phasering his way through the guards.

"Sarek, stay with me!" Maja cried, pulling the Vulcan southward.

The burning truck plunged into the guards behind them causing the crowd of prisoners to surge forward toward the ship. Maja fought the wave as best he could and hung onto Sarek but they were swept even closer to the door. He looked back to see Kalzat trying to get through the panicky crowd and resolute guards. Maja heard phaser fire behind him but didn't know whose. He and Sarek dug in their heels and fought to stay put but the momentum of the crowd was too much for them. They were pushed closer and closer to the ship.

Kalzat, now joined by Tien, was fighting his way through what was now a riot. He saw Master Khat and Hraja fighting in from the other side and Master Whilla and the journeyman Laza battling in somewhere to his right. Half the guards had turned to face the crowd and repel the waves of hysterical people fleeing the fires the burning truck had started. It was the perfect diversion. There were just too many guards and the throng of prisoners had swept Master Ghet and Sarek too far forward for the Commune to rescue them. Kalzat flung himself at the guards with a howl of pure Klingon rage that turned to despair as he saw Master Ghet and Sarek swept inside the ship and out of sight. Behind him, Imstk's reinforcements were firing into the crowd. Kalzat and Tien made one last desperate lunge toward the ship before the doors closed. If they could at least get inside ... With the prisoners all inside the guards broke formation and the crowd surged across the ramp. Tien and Kalzat got within three meters of the doors only to see them close with a thump and have the ramp jerked out from under them. They rolled away, clenching their teeth in rage and despair and ran for cover as the ship lifted off with Master Gozine Gozshedrefreingin Ghet and Sarek of Vulcan inside.

* * *

Not only had Imstk had the ship's loading recorded, he'd had it broadcast to the planet. This was to prove his complete control of the city and therefore of Rovirin.

Captain Norris and her bridge crew watched the proceedings in helpless horror. Upon learning of Sarek's arrest, she had reported it to Star Fleet and after what seemed a long delay was ordered not to interfere. Norris decided to interpret this as an order not to transport a security team to the planet to retrieve the three Vulcans (Sovort and Smirek were still somewhere on the planet). She ordered a scan for the Vulcan's Federation ID implants. She was unable to locate any of them due to the shields around the government buildings they were held in.

"Get a fix on Sarek and beam him aboard," Norris ordered upon spotting the Vulcan in the throng of prisoners.

God knows the Shilo's crew tried but there was too much confusion and too little time. They watched the Ristian prison ship rise out of sight.

"Prepare to leave orbit, Lt. Lau. Follow that ship but stay out of scanner range." Norris hated to leave Sovort and Smirek on the planet but at least she knew Sarek was alive and the trail was hot.

"Transmit this broadcast to Star Fleet." Norris hoped if she was unsuccessful in retrieving Sarek, Star Fleet would send another ship after him. She rather doubted it somehow. The isolationist movement on Terra was so strong it was even influencing Star Fleet decisions.

The Shilo moved slowly deeper into non-aligned space, toward the area known as the Tziviian Autonomous Zone.

* * *

"Have you enjoyed your visit to Plintes 3, Captain Kirk?" Dr. Styren asked at dinner that night.

"Yes, very much," Kirk answered truthfully. "I understand your marine research here is quite interesting." He changed the subject hoping Spock and McCoy would join the conversation.

"Indeed, Captain. We have discovered several interesting things in the sea here." Styren was off on his favorite subject.

Spock listened politely to facts he'd already memorized.

"We theorize that mammal life on this planet evolved from a V71-type sea lizard that has only been sampled in the Beta 15 system to date." Styren continued.

McCoy put on a polite interested face to cover his consternation that soon this dinner would be over and they would have to find something to do with the balance of the evening. And into the night. They had spent the day walking on the shore and sitting on grassy knolls. McCoy had managed to keep Kirk and himself in sight of the compound and the fact that they might be observed had kept Kirk's hands from straying. Well, sort of. He'd managed to keep Kirk at bay in the various labs with the Vulcans. And now this very pleasant dinner was drawing to a close and McCoy felt nervous about what was next.

'Just say no.' McCoy thought firmly, 'Just say no to Jim Kirk.' He felt Kirk's hand on his thigh and removed it with a subtle but stern look. 'Just say no. Have I ever said no to him in anything? No. I have not. Not really.'

"The prostaglandin system of the V71-type sea lizard is quite fascinating." Styren began a new paragraph.

Spock was actually looking forward to going to bed with both of them again. That morning had exceeded any sexual pleasure he'd had so far and he wished to discover whether it was a repeatable phenomenon. He had, however, decided to leave McCoy and Kirk alone for a time after dinner. He could feel Kirk wanting it and wanting it badly.

"The hormonal secretion mechanism of the Plintes V71-type sea lizard prostaglandin system is similar to the Beta 15 V71-type sea lizard."

Kirk listened politely. He had read about this on the way back here and actually did find it interesting.

"However, the truly fascinating observation has been in how little the prostaglandin systems of the V71-type sea lizards differ from planet to planet in this system."

But not as interesting as the love he planned to make to McCoy, hopefully, very soon.

"We feel this indicates a larger evolutionary paradigm than we had previously suspected."

McCoy found this very interesting and hoped Kirk appreciated what he was hearing from the great scientist. He also hoped Kirk would believe he had a headache and not press for sex.

"We are unable to determine at this time whether this is a biological fluke or natural law."

"A fluke?" Kirk had never heard Spock use that word.

"Yes, Captain. The galaxy is full of flukes we cannot yet explain." Styren informed him.

"Ah." Kirk nodded.

"You look somewhat fatigued, Dr. McCoy." Styren commented.

"Oh? I was just thinking I'd like another cup of coffee." McCoy finished the cup in front of him.

Sirev moved to refill the cup but Kirk pulled it out of reach: "It's rather late for that, Bones. Why not just go to bed?" He suggested innocently.

"I think I'm capable of deciding..." McCoy began to snarl but was interrupted by Spock's gentle voice: "Perhaps you will both excuse us. I would like to examine the lab's specimen tanks again before I leave."

Styren rose and made for the door before McCoy could suggest that he come with them to the lab. Because of his relationship to Spock, the Vulcans had been extra welcoming and considerate of his wants and needs. He was dismayed that that now translated into worrying over his looking peaked and sending him to bed. Obviously Spock had no compunction about leaving him alone with Jim after this morning. He hadn't asked Spock to stay near, that would have been silly, but, dammit, the Vulcan was practically throwing him at Kirk.

McCoy rose and began collecting the dishes to stall for a little more time. Kirk silently picked up what McCoy could not carry and followed the doctor into the kitchen. McCoy put the dishes in the sink and began to wash them when one of the Vulcans came in and insisted it was not necessary. The doctor acquiesced gracefully and turned to find Kirk looking at him with big, innocent eyes.

"Well," McCoy drew a brave breath. "I guess I'll call it an evening. Good night all." He stepped around Kirk.

"Yes. I believe I will too." Kirk murmured, following close behind.

They walked silently over the path to the house. McCoy stopped to admire the moons over the water one last time. Kirk caressed his shoulders from behind. The doctor stepped out from under the provocative hands and turned to face his seducer.

"Jim, about this morning..." He got out before Kirk's lips got in the way.

Kirk held him in a gentle but commanding embrace until McCoy's puny rebellion subsided. He played his full lips over McCoy's until he felt the doctor relax and lean into him. He leaned back to look into warm blue eyes.

"Let's make the most of that big bed while we can." He murmured, putting an arm around the compliant doctor and leading him up the path.

~~~

Spock opened the link just enough to know Kirk was getting what he wanted.

~~~

Kirk didn't pause to turn on any lights until he had McCoy in the bedroom: "Low level lights."

"Jim, I need to talk to you, now." McCoy said, snapping out of his trance.

"Okay, talk." Kirk took a step back from McCoy so as to have a better view of his lover.

McCoy hesitated, not expecting Kirk to acquiesce so easily.

"Look, I think this morning was a mistake ..."

"Hmmm?" Looking interested.

"Yes. We live too closely to have this sort of relationship... "

"Ah." Nodding.

"And what would the magic blue iguana priests think?"

"Ummm." More nodding.

"Jim, are you listening to me?"

"Not really." Kirk moved closer, smiling warmly.

"Then what are you doing in there?" McCoy moved back until his thighs were against the bed.

"Watching your lips." Kirk pushed the doctor onto the bed and covered him with his body. He gentled McCoy's mouth open in the sweetest kiss he'd ever given anybody. It was the product of months of longing and fantasy.

Feeling compelled and stressed, McCoy was unable to appreciate it. He broke the kiss and sat up.

"No," McCoy said breathlessly but firmly. "No, I do not want to have sex with you, Captain Kirk." He finished more strongly than he'd begun and stood. He also hoped Kirk had not noticed his cock hardening.

"Do you want to wait for Spock?"

"NO. I want some fresh air." McCoy, fighting down his arousal, opened the French doors and stepped into the cool night.

Far from his goal but also far from stupid, Kirk paused in his pursuit. He stepped onto the verandah and put two meters between himself and the doctor. They stood together in silence looking over the water. Kirk was considering the best tack to take since he knew McCoy's lips were saying one thing and his body another.

"I'm sorry, Bones. I want you so badly I'm behaving like a savage." He gave the doctor a contrite look.

"Uh huh." McCoy knew this look; it looked great but there was no regret whatsoever in it.

Feeling this turn of affairs, Spock had concluded his conversation with the Vulcans and returned to the little house. He glanced at the big bed as he passed onto the verandah to join his lovers. Direct and to the point as always, Spock pulled McCoy into his arms and kissed him deeply. He was aroused by Kirk's scent on the human.

Had he not been aroused by Kirk in the first place, McCoy might have resisted a little more than he did. As the kiss progressed, however, he suddenly found himself less and less repelled by the idea of getting back into bed with the these two men.

Kirk watched patiently, hoping Spock was persuading the doctor back into bed.

Spock stepped back abruptly and said quietly: "No one will force you to do anything you don't want to do, Leonard."

McCoy paused for a moment then turned to Kirk and pulled him into a gentle kiss without a word. 'Well, why not? I can't imagine this happening anywhere else so what's the harm in one last time,' He reasoned.

Catching Spock's eye over the doctor's shoulder, Kirk broke the kiss and they moved back into the bedroom.

Spock undressed and slipped into the big bed to watch Kirk undress McCoy. He noted that Kirk was not as efficient or as swift in disrobing the doctor as Spock but perhaps in time, with practice.

McCoy snuggled up to Spock and kissed his neck. He felt Jim spoon up behind him, stroking his flank and kissing his shoulder. 'I like being between them,' he thought happily as he caressed his way down to Spock's erect cock.

Spock pulled Kirk into a kiss and was almost overwhelmed by the multitude of sensations his body was experiencing. He was also riding the wave of the triple awareness he'd so enjoyed this morning.

Kirk ran his hands through McCoy's thick hair and surrendered his mouth to the Vulcan. He was perfectly content in the moment.

Spock rolled on his back and urging Kirk up his body and into his mouth. He caressed the human's penis with his tongue and lips almost to the point of climax and held him there, teasing him. He caressed the fine round ass with one hand while stroking McCoy's hair with the other.

Kirk stayed still, hard as a rock and trying not to come.

McCoy was so engrossed in sucking the Vulcan cock he hardly seemed to realize they were not alone. A shaky sigh from Kirk made him glance the length of Spock's body and release a shaky sigh of his own.

Spock removed Kirk's hard shaft from his mouth and settled the panting human next to him. He then reached down and pulled McCoy on top of him and into a deep kiss. The Vulcan then rolled onto his side so McCoy was between him and Kirk. Gently stroking the doctor's cock, he reached under the pillow and put a tube of lubricant into Kirk's hand.

Kirk had been intently kissing McCoy's neck when Spock handed him the lubricant and distracted him. Still caressing the doctor, he took the tube and squeezed some onto his fingers.

McCoy jumped slightly when he felt the slippery fingers caressing the entrance to his body. He was used to Spock's long overheated digits and tensed at the cooler, blunter ones now slipping slowly into him. He moaned softly into Spock's mouth and tightened his arms around the Vulcan's neck.

Hearing McCoy's sexy moan, Kirk caught Spock's eye as he slid in a second finger. He was gentle. He probed until he found the hard place behind McCoy's penis and rubbed it until McCoy broke his kiss and threw his head back on Kirk's shoulder panting. Kirk backed off a little, softly pumping the doctor. He was waiting for McCoy to relax a little more. He withdrew his fingers to spread a generous portion of lube on his aching cock.

Spock lowered his lips to McCoy's again. He moved his hand from the doctor's cock and rubbed their erections together. He caressed McCoy's ass with his warm hand. Slipping a leg between McCoy's thighs and urged his knee up onto the Vulcan's hip. He opened and offered McCoy to Kirk.

Kirk moved forward and centered his cock against McCoy's tight ring.

McCoy tightened his arms around the Vulcan when he felt Kirk's cockhead pressing against his anus. He tensed a little but relaxed when Spock squeezed his ass and kissed him.

Kirk gave a determined push and a sharp gasp when the head popped in. He froze, afraid he'd come if he moved. After a moment of adjusting to the incredible warm tightness and letting McCoy adjust to him, he began to gently but firmly thrust into his lover. This took some time as Kirk's penis was as long as Spock's but not as thick.

McCoy sighed against Spock's chest and relaxed. He panted helplessly against the Vulcan shoulders as Kirk brought him higher with each long hard stroke. He raised his dilated blue eyes into Spock's hot black ones and kissed the Vulcan passionately. Reaching between them he rubbed them together urgently. He could feel that Kirk was very close, then there, shuddering in his climax against his back. McCoy came as he brought Spock off. McCoy lay dazed and breathless between his lovers, leaning his head against the yoke of Spock's collarbone.

His face buried in McCoy's neck, Kirk was still shivering convulsively with pleasure. He found himself fighting for consciousness and trying to remember if he'd ever had such a profound orgasm. He pulled himself together, kissed McCoy's neck and brought his lips close to the other's ear.

"I..." he tried to whisper but was cut off by a shudder of pleasure as his cock slipped out.

Spock was moved to his core by his own climax. He felt the waves of pleasure resonating through him transmogrify into a profound sense of peace. He heard Kirk's desperate failed whisper and reached out to stroke the human's arm, steadying him, comforting him. It was not an erotic caress as he already knew Kirk was finished for the night. Perhaps in the morning....

Kirk rubbed his cheek against McCoy's ear and smiled into the luminous black eyes. He snuggled against the already sleeping McCoy and dozed off himself, thinking, 'Perhaps in the morning ...'

Spock watched them sleep for a moment and then dropped off himself. He was the first to wake when Uhrua hailed Kirk with the news that Spock's father had been abducted and they were to proceed to Rovirin with all due haste.

* * *

'Well, we live,' thought Maja grimly as he kicked the occupants of a fairly warm corner out of it and settled Sarek in their place. The former occupants, a band of Rovirin Gypsies, crouched nearby, hoping that Maja would at least extend his protection to them when the food came. Maja caught their thought and sneered at them. They took it for a 'maybe' and sneered back.

Maja lowered enough of his shields to give his brothers a trail to follow.

"Are you all right, Sarek?" Maja whispered in Vulcan. He didn't want anyone to hear them speaking a Federation language.

"Yes." Sarek was exhausted and in pain but didn't see any use in telling Maja. "What now?"

Maja hesitated, looked around the dim, filthy, overcrowded cell and fought down his despair.

"I'm not sure. We wait and see what happens. Perhaps when the guards come to feed us ..." 'If they bother,' Maja thought bitterly. "... I can learn something useful." He looked at Sarek with worry. The old Vulcan was fatigued and aching in his joints. Maja could feel it in his own body.

"Come, Sarek, lay down here. We need rest." Maja pillowed the sleek head on his shoulder and directed a low level of energy into the Vulcan. He was holding back a little in case he needed to fight later. The looks they'd been getting from the bigger inmates made him almost certain he'd have to fight later.

* * *

"Set a course for Rist 8." Hobie had picked Maja's trail earlier and was trying to decide whether to bypass Rovirin for now since he knew Ling and Jir were on their way to protect the Talljet interests, including the Commune.

Hobie had also intercepted Captain Norris' transmission to Star Fleet that she was in pursuit of the prison ship. Her message very helpfully contained their exact heading.

Hobie was impressed with Norris. The Shilo was a 15 man sloop not well suited to deep space travel or battle but neither Norris nor her crew had hesitated for one microsecond to follow the prison ship into god knew what.

'Gallant,' he thought with admiration. 'Kinda stupid but very gallant.' This was also the opinion of the bridge crew.

They were all very curious to know what that fine lady would do when she received the message from Star Fleet they'd just intercepted.

"Return immediately to Federation space and wait for orders," came directly from Admiral P. Rao.

Hobie cursed himself that he'd let the first message through. He let this one through because, well, perhaps it was in Norris and her crew's best interest to get out of harm's way for a while. The Shilo had been asked to act as a glorified taxi and chasing a prison ship into pirate infested space was way above and beyond the call of duty.

So a little cheer went up when the Tien bridge crew heard the Shilo's reply to Admiral P. Rao:

"Unable to read your last transmission due to subspace interference. Will maintain radio silence until we are closer to Federation space. Captain Maria Norris."

* * *

Maja's second sight kicked in and he knew the food was on the way. He gestured to the little knot of Rovirin Gypsies he'd kicked out of the corner earlier. They exchanged sneers but one of the men came forward.

"Understand me, stranger?" Maja snarled in the Patois.

"I do." He was answered in the same.

Sarek's ears pricked up. He'd heard the Patois before but had never been able to understand it.

"Stranger, the guards are coming to feed us..." Maja began.

"How d'you know?"

"Never mind, I know. I will help you get food for your band if your band protects my man while we get it." Maja gave him an intense look. "Understand me? Understand me?"

"Understand, understand." The Gypsy moved to his band and, after a brief conversation, brought them to Maja.

"Half will stay with your man; half will come with us. Understand me?"

"Understand." Maja, not turning his back on the band, moved to Sarek's side and addressed him in Vulcan.

"Sarek, I'm going to ..." Maja began.

"I understood." He said softly in Vulcan. Maja stared at him. "I assume we are linked if I can understand the Patois."

"Yes. It's more complicated than that but I don't have time to discuss it now." Maja murmured distractedly in Patois, pulling his cloak off. "I'll teach you some words later. For now, these strangers will protect you while I help them get food. For us, I want a guard's mind to examine." He handed Sarek his

heavy cloak. "You, defend this with your life, please."

Maja and four big Gypsies slipped into the crowd, heading toward the door. They reached it as an outer door opened and a group of guards took up positions, weapons drawn. A cart with barrels of foul smelling gruel was wheeled up to the cell door, blocking it.

Maja had wisely chosen a position slightly back and to the left of the door. He knew that there would be a forward surge and did not want to be crushed against the bars when it occurred.

Right on cue, the prisoners surged forward and were stunned back. Their fellow prisoners trampled them underfoot. The guards raised the cell door half way and pushed the food cart forward.

Maja pushed through the crowd, making a path for his Gypsy band. He only had to fight one big male that refused to let him past. To save time, Maja crushed his throat with a blow and stepped over his body.

The Gypsies got to the cart and secured several containers next to the barrels. Maja punched back several inmates to give his Gypsies time to fill the containers. While they did, Maja scanned the guards like mad and got very little of use: This ship was bound for Rist. Her captain was worried about pirates (who wasn't around here?). The rations would hold out because they'd lost about a fifth of their cargo in the riot. Maja looked at the crowded cell and could not conceive of it with even one more body in it. They would reach Rist in ten spacetime days. What kind of spacetime, Maja did not know. He sighed mentally and hoped for another chance. He noticed a guard looking him over. Maja looked back in what he hoped was an inviting manner.

"Stranger, let's go!" The Gypsy hissed at him. Maja gave the guard one last look and punched a path through the throng.

He found Sarek and his cloak unharmed but one of the Gypsies guarding him, a female, was bleeding from the mouth. They had been attacked and fought the attackers off. Maja put some healing energy into the Gypsy girl's mouth and got a peck on the cheek for thanks. The band moved a small but protective distance from the vulcanoids. They would stay close; they knew a good thing when they saw it.

"Are you hungry, Sarek?" Maja asked softly in Vulcan, pulling his cloak on.

Sarek looked askance at the gruel the Gypsies were eating.

"No, Maja, not at the moment."

"Good." Maja said shortly. "You can't eat that," he gestured to the Gypsies' bowls with his chin. "It's got flesh in it and we need to conserve our rations. This might be a long trip."

Maja sat next to the Vulcan and shook the pain and foreign energy out of his fingers. They sat in silence watching the prisoners around them wolfing down their vile rations.

"Do you know Master Ghet?" Sarek asked at last. Trained as a diplomat he'd become comfortable with the art of small talk. Very useful when he wanted to break a silence.

"Not very well." Maja answered, thinking how very un-Master Ghet-like this situation was. He was, however, glad to know he'd shielded his Klingon identity from the Vulcan while unintentionally forging the link during the healing.

"What do you know of him?" Sarek was curious.

"Just what I've seen around the Commune." Maja was wary. He knew the old Vulcan wanted to know about one of the currently most powerful beings in the Klingon Empire out of professional curiosity.

"Which is ...?" Sarek gently prompted. He remembered Maja's reticence on Vulcan as attractive but not now when the half Mage might have something interesting to say.

Maja sighed, thinking about it. "He is aloof from the Commune. He spends all this time making art, praying and hearing confessions. He is detached from personal relationships. All he cares about is art and its creation. I believe the creation of art is his true religion. It is where he feels the most strength and security." 'And Master Ghet would have had much more sense than to walk into a prison ship with you, Sarek Vulcan.' Maja finished to himself.

"What do you think of him?" Sarek had half heard the unspoken part of Maja's speech.

"I respect him as an artist and priest." Maja said truthfully.

Sarek, tired as he was had one more question for the MageCheq: "Maja, why did you rescue me?"

Maja frowned at him: "We've gone from prison to prison ship, Sarek. When, exactly, did I rescue you?"

Sarek found this a strangely logical statement and smiled mentally. He remembered this quality in Maja, logical in his own way and obstinate. A fighter; he'd defended Spock with his fists when logic and argument failed to stop the other Vulcan children from tormenting his son. At the time Sarek had deeply disapproved of Maja's temperament and behavior and had encouraged Spock to avoid the half Mage. He found it ironic that the very qualities he'd eschewed in the younger Maja were now keeping him alive.

"Why don't you sleep for a while?" Maja broke into his reverie, extending an arm for Sarek to curl into.

"Yes. I will." Sarek lay next to his protector and dropped into a light healing trance.

Maja watched the cell for a while. He and his Gypsies exchanged after dinner sneers but they were more friendly sneers than before. The Gypsy girl Maja had healed gave him a wan smile and Maja's heart was suddenly full.

'It is the infinite power of god's love that in this hell can we still acknowledge each other as god's creatures.' He thought passionately, 'God's will be done, god save us if that is your will.'

* * *

Captain Norris had never disregarded a direct order in her life and now that she was over the initial shock, she still felt elated. She looked around at her bridge crew, also elated, following the prison ship into the Tziviian Autonomous Zone.

PART 22

Maja opened his eyes and shifted Sarek onto his side about five minutes before the guard came to the bars and beckoned to him. He dropped his cloak over the Vulcan and winked at the very observant gypsy girl. 'Sarek's gypsy' Maja'd begun to think of her. He glided through the sleeping prisoners like a shadow and didn't much care for what he scanned from the guard as he got closer.

The guard had five friends waiting for them in a secluded corner. Maja could cope with two, possibly three rapists at a time but certainly not six. Slipping through the cell door, he sidled up to the Ristian male and stroked the guard's temples seductively.

/o, no no no, ve vant to be alone...!/

Never much of a vamp, Maja hoped he'd changed the guard's mind and was gratified to see a new plan forming. Maja was delighted to be lead into a deserted corridor where he promptly pulled the guard into a dark doorway and began to seriously examine the contents of the Ristian's mind.

~~~

Sarek's gypsy crept over to be near him. Her husband had died in the round-up on Rovirin and in her grief she had formed some tender feelings for Sarek. Also, he had tried to defend her in the melee during the feeding. This was something she would not soon forget.

The Vulcan woke and looked around for Maja. He beckoned to the gypsy girl when he noticed she was waiting for a sign to draw near.

The gypsy caught his thought and stroked Maja's cloak and gestured at the cell door.

"With guard," she whispered in Patois. She looked at him carefully and knew he could understand but not answer because he had no words. She pointed to herself: "I am Boda."

Sarek hesitated and then pointed to her and repeated: "Boda."

"Yes. Boda," she pointed to him. "You are?"

Sarek lowered his eyes, not wishing to say his name but not knowing what to say.

After a moment Boda tried another tack: "I am a girl. Yes." She pointed to him, "You are a girl. No."

Sarek found himself absorbing the words in a way he'd never experienced. It was as if he was remembering them instead of learning them.

"I am a girl. No," he whispered.

"I am a man?" Boda pointed to herself.

"No, Boda, I am a man." Sarek corrected.

Boda smiled. "Yes. A man. A Sait (old man)."

"Sait," Sarek murmured. "I am Sait." He pointed at the girl, "You are Boda. I am Sait."

Boda gave him a big smile for his cleverness and pulled three intricately carved flat stones from her pocket. They were fortune telling runes and the only things she still possessed other than the clothes on her back.

She gestured for him to take the stones and rub his hands together. He did so and tried to hand them back to her. Boda gestured for him to drop them. He did and she bent down in the dim light to study them.

"I see you in a city. In a fine house and wearing fine clothes. You have a beautiful lover and lots of money and lots of friends."

Sarek thought this was a very strange prediction under the circumstances but he didn't have the vocabulary to tell her that.

"In a city?" he asked.

"Yes. A big city."

"A beautiful lover?"

"Yes. Very beautiful and younger than you, much younger."

"A younger girl?"

"I do not know. Maybe a young girl," she corrected gently, "maybe not. Hochofedra," Boda shrugged. "If you have a beautiful lover and you are in love, what difference does it make if it's a man or woman?"

"Hochofedra," Sarek shrugged awkwardly; he wasn't much of a shrugger usually. Spock had picked up the expression from the Talljets and Sarek had once reprimanded him for using it in his hearing, which was vast. Sarek had never before realized what a thorough and satisfying word it was to say.

They looked up to see Maja slipping through the field of sleeping prisoners. Boda scooped up her runes and regained her place with the gypsies. Maja smiled at her and held out the piece of bread and cheese the guard had tipped him with. He stood watching her, shaking what remained of the guard's energy out of his hands.

Boda wolfed it down as if she were afraid someone was going to take it away from her. The sight of her pulled on something inside Sarek. She reminded him of a starving kitten he had seen on Terra that kept its claws extended when it ate because it had had to fight for every morsel of food it could find. Amanda's sister had given it a home but it was too weak to live and died after a few days. He turned to look at Maja, also watching Boda.

"Why is that girl here?" Sarek mixed his Patois words with Vulcan.

Impressed that Sarek was picking up the lingo so quickly, Maja answered in Patois: "The gypsies are considered asocial nomads of no redeeming value to Rovirin society. They beg, they steal but they can also fix any engine in the physical plane, work metal as well as a Klingon master, train and ride or drive any beast of burden, and some say they have the second sight. They also love life and all creation with a gigantic passion. But all the bosses on Rovirin see is the begging and stealing so periodically they round them up and ship off whatever they catch."

"That is barbaric," Sarek said flatly.

"Hochofedra, Sait," Maja shrugged, wrapping his cloak around himself and sitting next to the Vulcan. "The strong make the rules and the weak suffer from them in this part of the galaxy."

"Well, begging and stealing are not admirable traits," Sarek mentioned after a moment of thought.

"So. You give them your small change and watch your back and life goes on for everyone." Overall, Maja had a very live and let live attitude.

Sarek found no immediate reply he cared to share and they fell silent, watching the restless sleepers in the cell.

"I think we're in trouble, Sarek," Maja said finally. "That guard knew some interesting stuff." 'And had some truly sick sexual fantasies, too,' he put in for himself. "This ship has got four tonnes of dilithium crystals on board. The Captain is going to deliver them to Rist 3 and the quickest, but stupidest, way there is through, not around, the Tziviian Autonomous Zone. So, that's where we'll be in a few hours - the Tziviian Autonomous Zone...." Maja trailed off distractedly, watching one prisoner roll on top of another, the ensuing struggle and submission.

"What's in the Tziviian Autonomous Zone?" Sarek prompted.

"Well, mainly the Tziviian entrepreneurs, I suppose. Nobody I know knows much about the planets in the Tziviian Autonomous Zone because they're so afraid of the Tziviian entrepreneurs."

"Why is that?"

"Well, these entrepreneurs are slavers and they practice a religion that requires a lot of sentient being animal sacrifice. That's how they became slavers; they got so good at catching ships for sacrificial animals they started selling off the overflow."

"They sound more like pirates than entrepreneurs, Maja," Sarek said.

"Well," Maja sighed, "if the Tziviians were in the Federation, the things they do would be illegal and, therefore, they would be pirates. Here, however, their actions are not illegal so they're entrepreneurs. Since we're in their space, however temporarily, it would be prudent to see things their way. It will save us from making serious cultural errors that might get us killed or worse."

Sarek digested this for a moment: "Maja, do you think these pirates ..."

"Entrepreneurs."

"...are going to attack this ship?"

"The guards think so. They've loaded up the shuttlecraft with supplies and plan to abandon their idiot captain when the entrepreneurs attack."

"But do you think they will?"

"I don't know. This ship is heaven sent for them. Lots of loot and they can sell off the strong prisoners and sacrifice the weak ones. I wonder that they can't smell this tasty morsel about to fall into their fetid maw right now." Sarek damped down his impatience at this superfluous observation and Maja continued: "The captain of this scow thinks the entrepreneurs are all off celebrating some festival on the other side of the zone and so he can get across their space if he kicks it. But I think these entrepreneurs will know the nanosecond the ship enters their zone. This space has a funny feel to it, like it's made to conduct telepathic energy. The Tziviians are a conglomeration of powerful telepathic tribes. They were in psychic contact with each other before they had spaceships. In their isolation, they thought they were in contact with the multiple minds of god. They never really recovered from their disappointment that they were, in fact, not in contact with god, just other planets. So, they developed the sacrifice religion, hoping they could contact the real multiple minds of god...."

"Maja, why do you know this?" Sarek interrupted.

"Oh, everyone knows this," Maja waved a dismissive hand. "Where was I? Oh, yes; anyway. Because the Tziviians are really scary, really dangerous telepaths, I think they can feel when the fabric of their space is disturbed by uninvited non-Tziviians. Like us."

Sarek was sorting through this information, trying to find some part of it he could formulate a plan around. He was unsuccessful and turned to Maja: "What happens if ..."

"When."

"... the entrepreneurs attack?"

"We get out of this cell, go to the shuttle bay, steal a shuttlecraft and escape." Maja fell silent.

"Maja?"

"Hmmm?"

"How do we do that?"

"I've no idea but it's the only plan I have right now." Maja fell silent again.

Sarek was silent for a moment then said: "Maja, do you know how to fly a spacecraft? Because I don't."

"Well, no, but I think I gleaned enough from the guard to get us off the ground, so to speak." Maja lapsed back into silence. He sent one last cry for help to his brothers along their link and raised his remaining shields. Knowing the very telepathic Tziviians would find his link to his brothers far too enticing, he preferred not to give them a beacon to follow. He was relieved that his link to Sarek overrode Sarek's link to Amanda because the pirates would have found that energy enticing as well.

Sarek had no further comment. He wondered, but preferred not to ask, exactly how Maja had 'gleaned' his information. He knew that all the Talljets were powerful telepaths and he would be dismayed to know Maja was abusing his gift and the careful training he had received on Vulcan for it. After a while of feeling Maja's telepathic energy pulsing in a rhythmic wave pattern, he asked the MageCheq what he was doing.

"I'm praying we can get out of this cell, get to the shuttle bay, steal a shuttlecraft and escape." Maja was silent for a moment. "Am I bothering you, Sarek? I don't wanna bother you. I can raise my shields if you want me to."

"That will not be necessary, Maja," Sarek said, momentarily musing on the concept of prayer. "I do have a question for you, if I may disturb you further."

Maja raised his eyebrows in a very good imitation of the Vulcan fashion.

"Why did you come find me, heal me and protect me in the prison and here as well?"

Maja dropped his Vulcan pose and scratched his nose abstractedly: "It seemed," he said at last, "like a good idea at the time."

"And now?"

"Now? Yes, still. Still, yes."

* * *

"Dear merciful god why the hell are they going into the Tziviian Autonomous Zone?" Hobie looked at his First Mate, Neria-Tza, who had been about to inform him of the Shilo's latest course change.

'Oh, Maja, start praying for divine assistance,' he added to himself.

"Close the distance between us and the prison ship now, Neria-Tza, and pray god we can ambush them before they attract the Tziviian pirates."

Hobie had hoped to catch them at the edge of the Trza system, collect Maja, and nip across the tip of the Xochitarian Autonomous Zone and home. A really excellent plan; now trash.

Neria-Tza loved the Talljets but was never in the mood to fight the Tziviian pirates. They frightened him too much. He exchanged worried glances with his shipmates.

Hobie, catching their worry, sighed. "How many of you am I going to have to kill because you're thinking negative thoughts?" he asked quietly.

Everybody looked guilty and felt bad; they all really did love the Talljets and owed them much.

"None of us, Captain," Neria-Tza said. "We were just adjusting to the idea that we might all die horribly because Maja-anas (he added the Klingon honorific) was so fucking stupid on Rovirin. That's all, sir," he finished politely.

Hobie looked fondly at his crew. They looked back with equal fondness.

"Well, true," he said at last. "But if we turn back so the Tziviian pirates don't kill us for trying to rescue Maja-anas the stupid, Ling and Jir will kill us for not trying. Understand? A rock and a hard place; a charging targ and an abyss."

"We could run," suggested Qwuushi from the helm.

"No, Ling and Jir would find us. Maja's ghost would haunt us. We would have bad luck forever and no one would love us for being cowards." Hobie sighed again. "So, will it be necessary to convince any of you," he paused, "to death?"

They all murmured no and became very engrossed in their work. Hobie knew his crew well enough to know their faith in him was greater than their doubts, even though they needed to be occasionally reminded of it.

Hobie was not looking forward to fighting the Tziviian pirates himself. They scared him as much as anyone. He turned to Mizat, at the communication board and opened a hail into Star Fleet frequencies. He then turned to the helm.

"More speed, Qwuushi, more speed."

* * *

"Stop image. Sector image. Close on sector 3. Magnify. Close on sector 3.4. Magnify. Close on sector 3.4.3. Magnify. Stop." Spock's voice was flat with the shock of recognition.

They had been viewing the prison ship loading when Spock stopped the tape. The bridge crew and McCoy beside Kirk's command chair held their breath. None, except perhaps McCoy, had ever heard the Vulcan's voice so close to raw emotion. They wrongly attributed it to Sarek's situation. After a moment, Spock released the image and sat down. They watched the loading dissolve into chaos, the ship lift off and the tape ended.

They stared at the stars for a while in silence.

"What's wrong, Spock?" Kirk asked at last.

"The vulcanoid male supporting my father was Maja Talljet."

Kirk thought about this for a moment: "What's he doing on Rovirin?"

"Unknown."

"I understand the Shilo is in pursuit. Hopefully, they can recover them both," Kirk tried to sound more optimistic than he felt. Although he had bottomless respect for Captain Norris, how a sloop was to take a transport, he couldn't imagine.

"It is also possible that one or more of the Talljets are in pursuit of Maja." Spock said.

"Contact one and find out," Kirk suggested.

Spock sent messages to the two addresses he had for Jir and Ling, wondering when and if they would answer.

"Well, I guess there's nothin' I can do up here .." McCoy began when every frequency on Uhura's station lit.

"Captain! It's Hobie Talljet," Uhura said, shocked.

"On screen, Lieutenant, and find the point of origin."

Hobie's beautiful vulcanoid face filled the viewscreen. Kirk was nonplused, he'd thought Jir was gorgeous, this was Jir multiplied by three, possibly five.

'KirkaFara (Kirk the beautiful), well, not bad if you like blondes.' Hobie thought and drawled: "My compliments, Captain Kirk," he glanced around the bridge, pausing to admire Chekov and Sulu. 'Ah, so many to do, so little time,' flashed through his mind. His eyes fell on Spock. "I'd like a word with your First Mate, if you don't mind."

"Not at all Captain Talljet, not at all," Kirk drawled back, watching the transmission trace show the origin to be Delta sector 7.334. Then Sector 9.657 at the opposite end of the galaxy. Then Alpha sector 1.0 which was Terra and therefore impossible.

"I assume you know your father is on his way to a prison colony on Rist 8," Hobie said.

"Yes and Maja is with him," Spock replied.

"Bit of luck for your old man, that. I'd never done it."

"Why, then, did Maja?"

Irritation passed over Hobie's classical features: "I've no idea. I suppose it seemed like a good idea at the time," he snarled, thinking: 'Because he still loves you, you VulCheq asshole, and wouldn't leave your dad in jam even to the point of insanely walking into a death ship. That's why, fuckhead.'

"Hobie," Spock was hesitant. "Hobie, can you..."

"I will try, Spock, I will try. I won't risk anything for Sarek but if I can get him when I grab Maja, I will."

"My mother will appreciate your efforts."

"I'll try not to take that into consideration."

"And I appreciate them."

"Ditto."

"I assume they still live..."

"They did 2.361 minutes ago when Maja hoisted his shields."

"My mother says she cannot feel my father in the bond," Spock informed him blandly, his usual tone when he had to say something he found embarrassing. "She thought he was dead."

Hobie, recognizing the tone and knowing Spock and Amanda would plotz if they knew Maja and Sarek were linked, sighed and prepared a version of the truth they all could live with: "Maja's temporarily undone that bond so it doesn't attract attention."

"Whose attention?" Kirk suddenly asked, hoping Hobie would give his location away. Concerned though he was for Sarek, his blood was up for the chance to chase this notorious pirate.

"They're in the telepathic Sargasso Space, Captain. A bond radiating back to Vulcan or to us Talljets is like a kilometer wide tracer laser to the pirates in that space. The prison ship is hoping to cut through it and save themselves some time, fine if they make it and I'm prayin' they do, but I'm also hoping to catch up to them and the Shilo, before they get too far inside the zone." He looked hard at Kirk. "Captain Norris and her crew are the bravest Terrans I ever see. She'd make a helluva pirate."

"I'll tell her that next time I see her," Kirk smiled. He had a similar opinion of Maria Norris himself. He glanced at the tracer to see that Hobie was currently in orbit around Vulcan and Klingon at the same time. 'Remarkable location jamming you have, Captain Talljet,' he thought wryly and turned the tracer off with a sigh.

"I know you're bound for Rovirin, Spock." Hobie turned back to the VulCheq. "You'll see Jir there, perhaps Ling if he's not on his way to me with reinforcements." He paused to notice what only a Talljet or old friend of Spock would see, that, in spite of his studied calm, Spock really was distressed by all this. "Spock, tell your family that we'll do our best to get him back alive."

"Thank you."

"Godspeed," Hobie said, then added, thawing a little more, "Noli (little brother)."

Spock went very still, no one had called him that since before he left Vulcan. He'd never forgotten how pleasant the syllables were on the elder Talljet voices.

Hobie looked pleasantly around Kirk's bridge and smiled: "Adieu, KirkaFara, Dr. McCoy, Chekov," Hobie bestowed one of his sexy 'let's fuck' smiles on the navigator, "y'all." He nodded and was gone.

"Does he know you, Chekov?" Kirk asked sharply.

"No, sir."

"You met Ling on Omega 12, Chekov, perhaps he mentioned you to Hobie," McCoy helpfully supplied.

'Meeting Ling puts you in the Talljet communal memory so of course Hobie knows you,' Spock was thinking.

"Time to arrival on Rovirin, Mr. Chekov." Kirk snapped.

"20.53 hours, sir," the ensign replied smartly.

Uhura's beta watch relief, always a few minutes early, arrived, closely followed by the helm and navigation relief. It was dinner time for Kirk, Spock and McCoy as well and they left the bridge together.

PART 23

"What did Hobie call you, Spock? Noli? What does it mean?" Kirk asked in the turbolift.

"Yes. Noli," Spock said quietly. "It means little brother."

McCoy smiled warmly: "You were close to them, weren't you Spock?"

"Yes." He paused. "I was."

They stepped out of the lift on their quarters' deck.

"Please excuse me, I wish to compose a message to my mother and I have work to catch up on this evening so I will not join you for dinner." Spock turned to go. "Or afterwards," he added, looking McCoy in the eyes.

"Yes, of course," Kirk said smoothly.

"Spock, if you need..." McCoy began but the Vulcan was gone. 'Foolish to offer moral support to that Vulcan,' thought the doctor keying in his doorcode.

McCoy, in his musing on Spock's condition, didn't realize Kirk was still with him until he was inside his own quarters and Kirk's tongue was down his throat.

"Jim, please." McCoy pulled away. "I have work to catch up on, too. And I'm tired. And I have a headache."

Kirk walked into the doctor's bathroom and returned with analgesic tablets and a glass of water.

"Thanks," McCoy said, sitting down at his table to take the pills. "And I'm worried about Spock..."

"I'm more worried about Sarek myself." Kirk sat next to him. "But I share your concern." He patted McCoy's knee comfortingly and then began to move his hand up.

"Is this how you do it with women, Jim?" McCoy asked, irritated, removing Kirk's caressing hand. "If so, I don't know how you got your reputation as a seducer."

"I love you." Kirk picked up the doctor's hand and pressed a kiss into the palm.

McCoy was unnervingly reminded of Spock doing the same thing once or twice, however, silently: "I love you, too, Jim," he said, pulling his hand away.

Kirk hung on: "That's not what I mean. I love you. I want to make love to you. I've never felt this way before."

'I bet,' thought McCoy, giving up the struggle for his left hand. He remembered Spock's look in the corridor and then Spock in the house on Plintes 3, helping Kirk seduce him. He correctly drew the conclusion that if he didn't give in to Kirk, Spock would probably disturb himself and come here to help Kirk get him into bed. And Spock had enough on his mind as it was. And, truth be told, he wanted to - Jim Kirk was looking pretty good right now.

'I want to,' he thought as Kirk pulled him to his feet and into a gentle kiss. 'I wonder if that makes me a slut. Oh well.' And then he didn't care anymore.

Kirk was generally a great seducer but his passion for McCoy had robbed him of subtlety. He crushed the doctor to him and explored his mouth with his tongue. He slid his hands under the blue tunic and black t-shirt and almost swooned with pleasure at the feel of the firm warm flesh.

McCoy pulled back for air: "Slow down, Jim, we have all evening, don't we?" He smiled and Kirk's heart did backflips. He led McCoy to the bed and helped him undress.

McCoy lay back and watched Kirk undress. He'd seen Kirk's body a lot over the years but not like this. Kirk was rosy with passion and hard already. He slipped into bed and pulled his doctor into a tight embrace, which he gentled as McCoy began to respond to him. He propped himself up on his elbows and looked teasingly down at his lover.

"Whaddya mean I'm not a great seducer? We're here, aren't we?" He bent down to plant kisses along the doctor's jaw.

"Hmmmm."

"Hmmmm, what?" Kirk left off grazing to look at him. "I'm just being very direct with you. I know how you hate all that shilly-shallying around." He bent his lips to McCoy's collarbone and kissed a trail down his chest.

He flicked his tongue over the hard nubs and gently bit them. McCoy ran his fingers through the golden hair and spread his legs wider.

Reading the body language, Kirk ran his tongue down the doctor's warm belly, around his navel and down to his erect cock. He slid his tongue around the shapely head and down the sides, exploring it, learning it. He blew hot air at the base and on the silky balls. His fingers explored the soft brown hair neatly framing the rosy shaft. He quickly discovered the sensitive underside of the head and teased it with the tip of his tongue until he heard McCoy's amorous groan. Taking that for a cue, Kirk stroked the shaft with his strong hands while sucking as hard as he could on the head.

'This is even better than my fantasies,' Kirk thought happily.

He stilled his motions when he tasted the first sweet salty drops on his tongue. McCoy's cum tasted incredibly sweet to him but he would forego more of it for now. He hoped to feel McCoy come in a slightly different position. He reached for the lubricant he somehow knew he'd find in the bedside table. 'That's where I'd keep it,' he thought and slipped a generous amount into McCoy. He was gratified with the response his fingertips on the doctor's prostate provoked and languidly licked the moisture off the tip of McCoy's cock. Kirk paused in his ministrations to carefully put lube on his own hard penis - he was very close and very ready to be inside McCoy.

Kirk covered his lover with his body and kissed him hard, forcing McCoy's legs a little wider. He rolled the doctor forward and centered his cock.

"You know," McCoy said quietly under him, looking into his eyes. "You've never asked me if I wanted you to fuck me." Kirk paused, trembling. "Suppose I said no."

Kirk, mustering reserves of control he didn't know he had, looked into his old friend's unreadable blue eyes. He swallowed hard and rolled McCoy back down on the bed. Kirk took a steadying breath: "Do you want to?" He was shaking.

McCoy, seeing how far gone Kirk was and wanting to (but just wanting to be asked), nodded, "Yes, I want to."

Kirk stopped shaking, rolled the doctor forward and pressed his cockhead against the center of McCoy's body. The pause had calmed him and instead of plunging in, he pressed gently against the tight ring until it yielded to him. Seeing McCoy's wince of discomfort, he stayed still until he felt the doctor's muscles relax a little more. Looking into McCoy's dilated blue eyes, feeling his legs wrapped around his waist, Kirk gently thrust his cock all the way in. He leaned down to kiss his lover when he hit bottom. He lay quietly in McCoy's arms, letting McCoy get used to the feel of him completely inside and giving himself a chance to calm down a little. Although he had also enjoyed it with Spock present, Kirk was almost overwhelmed by the erotic intimacy of making love to McCoy without the Vulcan present. He savored it for a moment longer then began gently pumping just enough to stay hard, wanting to prolong the contact. He propped himself up on his arms and lengthened his strokes.

"I..." Kirk trailed off when McCoy reached between them to stroke his own cock.

"Oh, god," Kirk moaned when McCoy tightened his legs and thrust up to meet his lengthening strokes.

"Oh, my GOD." Feeling McCoy come and clench around his cock, Kirk nearly fainted and then came himself.

Kirk collapsed onto McCoy, crushing him in a fierce embrace as his cock jerked and pulsed inside the other man. He lay spent and panting as McCoy comfortingly stroked his broad shoulders.

"Thanks for asking," McCoy whispered, kissing Kirk's round rosy ear.

"Thanks for saying yes."

* * *

...//*/hey/*/ho*/**here/**/we**//go/*/**//*...

Maja looked up from the drawing he was making of the cell and shuddered. He sat very still and tried to hear the whisper in his mind again.

'They're coming,' he thought and turned to wake Sarek. 'They're not here yet but they're coming.' He fought down his fear as he shook the Vulcan.

Sarek looked a question at him.

"I think the, ah, entrepreneurs are coming," Maja whispered nervously.

"You think?"

"I...," Maja tried to catch the whisper again and couldn't. "I'm sure. It was very faint but I think I heard them."

Sarek inclined his head. "What shall we do, Maja?"

"Let's get toward the front of this cage and see what happens." He slipped the pad and crayon back into his cloak and pulled out some dried fruit, dried vegetables, nuts, and water tabs. He stuffed them into Sarek's pockets. They each took a water tab and ate the tasteless but filling grain crackers Maja brought from the Commune.

'When, o lord, was I there? It seems like another life ago,' He mused, looking Sarek over and deciding he was still weak but would be okay.

Sensing something was up, the gypsies were standing nearby, ready for anything. Boda gave Maja a smile that broke his heart.

'I wish I could take you with us, gypsy girl,' he thought, hoping Sarek wouldn't fuss too much when she was left behind. 'Silly ass, this is Sarek the Vulcan,' Maja scolded himself, 'he won't even notice.'

The little band moved through the prisoners, some awake, most still asleep, as unobtrusively as possible. They took up a position near the cell door and a little to the left.

Maja was listening intently but heard nothing. He jumped when the outer door banged open and the food cart was wheeled in.

Sarek gave him a rather pointed look and glanced toward the back of the cell.

Maja took hold of the Vulcan's cloak and held on. He was shaking and watching the cell door being opened for the food cart. He noticed his guard staring at him but was oblivious to everything else around him. His senses were hyper -lert and he relaxed into the fabric of space around him. He switched his vision from form and color to energy fields and saw the world in pure light. He knew he was in Tziviian space and he let it flood him. He felt his awareness notch up and he coiled to spring.

Maja's grip on Sarek kept the Vulcan from falling when the first impact rocked the ship.

* * *

Hobie caught up to the Shilo just inside the Tziviian Autonomous zone. He and his crew were impressed when the little craft wheeled to face the three huge warships while backing into the zone. Mizat hailed them politely and let Hobie do the taking: "Oh, please don't shoot us Captain Norris. Our only dream is that you will let us help you take the prison ship and rescue that foolish old Vulcan," Hobie said suavely.

Captain Norris exchanged looks with her first officer, Thomas Albany, and turned to the Communications station: "Open a visual if they are so inclined, Mr. Mibri."

Hobie and his bridge crew perked right up when they saw Maria Norris was willing to talk to them face to face.

"You know who I am," Norris said coolly. "Now, who are you?"

"I'm Hobie Talljet, ma'am, and I'm chasing that Ristian ship, too. Not just for Sarek; my brother's inside with him."

"I see." Norris hated to be called ma'am but decided, under the circumstances, to overlook it. She further decided not to try to arrest Hobie Talljet at this moment. Especially since her sensors had just registered twenty ships, armed to the teeth, converging on the prison transport.

"Oh shit!" She and Hobie spat in unison and turned to their crews.

"Norris, stay behind us," Hobie said as Neria-Tza brought the three ships into formation around the Shilo and set off at full speed. "As soon as we fight off the Tziviians ('if we can,' he thought grimly) we'll board the prison ship together."

"Aye, aye, Talljet, let's see how you do it out here." Norris was not disappointed to have help but was dubious as to what four ships could do against twenty.

They closed the distance between the prison ship and came upon a ring of unmarked warships waiting for three of their sisters to blast through the prison ship's shields so they could board it. They foolishly had their own shields down to conserve energy and Hobie's ships blasted nine of them to pieces before the others knew there was anyone else about.

"Nice shooting, that," Norris muttered to Albany, her first officer.

"Yes," Albany said, "only eleven more to go."

Two of the Tziviians swung round and closed with the Yaga. Movra, in command, firing continuously, drew the Tziviians away from the prison transport while Ebiv, commanding the Maja, moved up and punched through one Tziviian's shields and crippled her. That ship limped off a safe distance but three more joined the fray.

Movra and Ebiv had been with Hobie a long time and knew the plan was to board the transport, grab the Vulcan and Maja and get the hell out of here. They'd fought the Tziviians once or twice and knew if the fight looked good, the other Tziviian ships would join it. Without a mothership to guide them, the Tziviians were fierce but undisciplined fighters and easy to defeat tactically. Movra and Ebiv were therefore somewhat disconcerted to see the carrier mothership drop out of warp to supervise the battle.

* * *

The first impact had knocked the food cart into the cell and the prisoners, including Maja and Sarek, had rushed the door. They were caught in the bottleneck and fought their way forward, Maja pushing Sarek ahead of him. It wasn't fun but they were making progress when Maja's cloak was grabbed from behind and he was jerked back. Sarek cleared the door and looked back when he no longer felt Maja's hands on his back. Seeing Maja was being strangled with this own cloak, he unclasped the closure at Maja's neck. He was surprised to see Maja turn and start to fight for the garment.

"Maja! Leave it and come." Sarek roared, pulling the furious MageCheq with him.

Maja bellowed a curse as he watched his cloak disappear into the throng. He turned and followed Sarek into the anteroom. He'd caught one last glimpse of Boda before she was swept out of sight. He looked into the Vulcan's face and knew he had seen her too: "Can we get her?" Sarek looked for a way to do it as he spoke and found none.

"No." Maja fought them into the corridor and turned left. "This way, Sarek, we've got to get in a craft before the guards take them all." They flew down the corridors - Maja knew the fastest route from the guard's mind, as the ship shuddered more and more violently with each impact.

They were almost knocked off their feet by a blast. 'Fucking shields are going. C'mon, c'mon, c'mon,' Maja chanted to himself.

* * *

Hobie, in the Tien, had crippled three Tziviians and destroyed two others. He had the Shilo behind him and had even blessed Star Fleet when Norris fought off a Tziviian on her own while he was otherwise occupied.

He was closing on the damaged transport, which was sensibly trying to make a run for it now that the Tziviians were off it, when he saw the huge bay doors on the Mothership open.

"Hard aport!" he bellowed, not wanting to be caught in the tractor beam that locked on the transport.

He felt more than saw the Maja and Yaja fall back into formation with the Tien, covering his back.

"Tractor beam on the Shilo."

"She's in the Tziviian's beam," Qwuushi sang out.

"Shit! Get 'er in mine and blast in front of her."

"You'll tear her ship apart," Neria-Tza informed him.

"Not if we do it right. NOW DO IT," Hobie bellowed. "Norris, amp your shields and hold tight."

"All power to shields," Norris ordered. "Brace for impact."

* * *

Maja and Sarek flung themselves into a shuttlecraft. Under the cover of too many panicky guards trying to get into too few craft, they broke the necks of the guards in it and threw their bodies on the deck.

Maja sealed the doors and looked at Sarek to see how he was holding up. He noted that the Vulcan's energy was down but otherwise he was okay. Fatigued and thirsty but okay.

"Now for the hard part, Vulcan," Maja murmured to Sarek. "We've got to rely on one of these fool guards getting the bay doors open for us." He activated the engines as he'd learned from the guard's mind. The controls looked as they should and he thanked all the gods for that. Thirsty himself, he went to reach in his cloak for a water tab for the Vulcan and grimaced with annoyance that it wasn't there. No water tabs, no doubloons, no dried fruit, no dilithium crystals, no drawing pad and crayon. Bad, very bad.

Sarek tapped him on the shoulder and handed him a water tab from his own pocket.

Maja hesitated. "We should save them, Sarek," he murmured.

"As you wish, Maja," Sarek said calmly, watching the scene in the shuttle bay on the monitor.

The shuttle bay was chaos. Prisoners and guards trying to claw their way into each sealed craft, trying to kill each other and falling to the deck with each impact. The scene was made truly horrible when the bay doors finally opened and the bodies were sucked out into the void.

Maja opened the forward viewports and watched with interest how each body was jerked away with more violence than he had expected to see. He was further concerned to see the first craft torn to pieces as it cleared the doors.

"Shall we go, Maja?" Sarek asked conversationally.

"I think not just yet, Sarek," Maja answered equally conversationally. "I believe the ship is in a powerful tractor beam and we'd better sit tight until ..."

"Until?"

"Until ... something."

They sat quietly watching another craft disintegrate just beyond the doors. Maja began to pray for a break. It is unknown what Sarek was meditating on.

PART 24

The blast from the Tien freed the Shilo but the impact crippled her.

"MY SHIP," Norris wailed. "Abandon ship. Albany, you're in command of the evac. GO. NOW. Mr. Mibri, give me a shipwide." She punched a button on her command chair. "Now hear this, abandon ship." She broke off, knowing her disciplined crew would get off the ship all right. "Hail the Tien for me, Mr. Mibri, and get off this bridge. You, too, Albany, Lau, all of you, GIT."

"Captain Norris, what are you going to do?" Albany yelled over the noise of red alert and impacts from the Tziviians, while jettisoning the recorder buoy.

"I'm going to ram this ship down that fucking monster's throat," she yelled. "GET TO THE SHUTTLECRAFT RIGHT NOW."

"Captain..."

"NOW!" Norris bellowed and sat at the helm.

Albany hesitated for one more second and then gestured the bridge crew into the turbolift.

"Talljet, can you hear me?" Norris addressed the flickering viewscreen when Hobie's bridge appeared on it.

"I can, Norris, get off your ship." Hobie turned to Neria-Tza, "Get us into a protective formation to take in their lifeboats." He watched with alarm as the Shilo shuttle bay doors opened. He was momentarily distracted by fighting off a Tziviian ship.

"NORRIS, GET OFF YOUR SHIP."

"Talljet, we need to blow that Tziviian mothership out of the way and that's what I'm going to do."

"How's zat, Terran?"

"I'm going to ram this ship down her throat."

"You're mad, Norris, we'll beam you aboard."

"Forget it. You can't lower your shields." Norris looked him right in the eye. "Save my crew, Talljet, that's all I ask."

Hobie noted the Maja taking in one shuttle and his own ship taking the other. The three ships restored their shields and moved into a line. But what could they do? They'd reduced the Tziviian warships from twenty to five but they were still in a hellish fight, shields weakened, weapons nearly depleted. Even if they fought off the five remaining ships, they were still outgunned by the huge mothership which hadn't annihilated them yet, being busy dragging the transport into her gaping maw.

Like it or not, Norris had the right idea.

"Set your course and we'll beam you aboard, Norris," Hobie said reasonably.

"I can't lower my shield for it and once I'm in their tractor beam you won't be able to," Norris said equally reasonably. She fired at a ship coming up under the Tien.

"Thanks," Hobie said as he watched Neria-Tza blast it but not even cripple it. He glanced over his shoulder to see Commander Albany come onto the bridge with Oza-Tol.

"He demanded," Oza-Tol snarled. "I can take him away."

"No," Hobie was watching Albany looking at Norris. "Leave him." He turned to the human: "Your Captain is the bravest Terran I ever see or hear of."

Norris turned her attention to firing into the bay of the mothership.

Hobie thought this was a great idea. It would distract the mothership and hopefully that vessel would release the transport to deal with them. He ordered his ships to do the same while keeping the five remaining Tziviian warships off them all as best they could.

* * *

Maja and Sarek were jerked in their seat when the mothership released the tractor beam to redirect her power to her weapons. They watched as a shuttle got beyond the doors and was successfully away.

"Hey, ho, here we go," Maja sang for luck and lifted off.

Clearing the bay doors, they found themselves and their tiny craft on the edge of a pitched battle.

* * *

Hobie and Albany stood on the bridge of the Tien and watched the mothership fire at them. The fiery blast rocked the ships but the shields held. They returned fire, mainly to distract her and give Norris cover. They saw Norris move toward the huge ship unnoticed.

"Return her fire," Hobie bellowed to his crews, "Keep her busy and pull back. Let's see if we can draw her a little closer to the Shilo." He ignored Albany's wince.

Norris piloted her crippled ship up to the underside of the behemoth unnoticed.

"Godspeed, good lady," Hobie breathed in prayer.

"Captain, I'm scanning the shuttlecraft leaving the transport," Neria-Tza informed him. "I've picked up two Federation identifier signals in the third one on the left."

Hobie was suddenly in a difficult position: the shuttlecraft were behind and beneath the mothership and moving away from the fight with alacrity. The Tien, the Maja and the Yaja were moving in the opposite direction from the shuttlecraft. They were heavily engaged fighting the Tziviian mothership and the five, now four, remaining Tziviian warships. None of them could break off, nip round, lower their shields to either beam Maja and Sarek aboard or bring their shuttle on board without being picked off or leaving their flank exposed. Also, Hobie did not want to attract the Tziviian's attention to the defenseless shuttlecraft or the Shilo. The only thing to do was to hold the line and pick up Maja and Sarek after the mothership was destroyed. God willing it was destroyed.

"Continue firing at will, increase reverse speed," Hobie said calmly. Watching the Shilo progress and shuttlecraft recede at the same time, he truly felt that he wanted as much space between the mothership and the shuttlecraft as possible when the mothership blew.

After what seemed like forever, he saw Norris and the Shilo disappear into the bay.

"Cease firing! All power to shields. Brace for impact," Hobie howled and pulled Albany into his lap and held him there as the mothership exploded into boiling fire and the viewscreen went white. The three ships were buffeted back like leaves in a hurricane. The lights went out and the impact seemed go on forever.

When they knew anything else, they saw the transport or the half that was left of it, listing in the void and the three surviving Tziviian ships, now joined by ten reinforcements dropping out of warp and all bearing down on them, weapons blazing.

* * *

Maja and the other shuttlecraft had wisely headed off away from the battle and headed off away from the battle at full speed. He kept one eye on the craft before him and the other on the battle behind him, trying to figure out what was going on back there. Not wishing to be psychically traumatized by the chaos of the attack, he still had his shields up, especially with all the Tziviians around, so he simply did not feel Hobie nearby anymore than Hobie, also shielding and for the same reasons, had felt him.

"Sarek, take a good look at the battle. Does it not seem as if the pirates are fighting each other and attacking the transport at the same time or what?"

"The image is too small to determine, Maja."

"Maximum magnification," Maja commanded the viewer in Standard. Exactly nothing happened.

"Maximum magnification," he tried in Klingon, then Romulan, then Rovirian, then Patois, then Vulcan, then Pzortian, then Gaelic, then Jroturian then the mothership blew up and they were momentarily distracted by being seriously impacted by the blast.

Maja kept them on course more by going with the blast than trying to fight it. The craft was blown in a wide arc away from and ahead of the other two craft but still with them. He stayed in sight of them and hoped they knew where they were going. This was necessary as he now realized nothing in the craft would respond to any language he and Sarek had between them nor could he read the markings to operate them. He could only pilot it manually off the memories he scanned from the guard and follow the other ships in hopes they knew where they were going. He looked at the two craft ahead of him, noting that whatever had been behind him was gone.

They could just barely make out the huge prison transport, ripped in half and on its side and the faint flashes of weapons, they thought, in the distance.

The communications console crackled at them and Maja reached over and pushed buttons until it stopped. He turned to see Sarek looking at him quizzically.

"Let them think it's malfunctioning. We don't have the language to talk to them and they might leave us if they know we're prisoners," Maja said wearily. The past few days were catching up to him. He wished he had his cloak. He'd eat a little, draw a little and then curl up for a nice nap.

He accepted the water tab Sarek offered him and sucked on it as he considered their situation: they lived, they were somewhere in the Tziviian Autonomous Zone in a tiny craft with no weapons and puny shields which they could not even operate. But they lived and when they got to the hopefully habitable planet in front of them, they would deal with the fact that they had no money, no barter, no food, no language but Patois, and were in a xenophobic space especially hostile to the Federation and the Klingon Empire and, by extension, their citizens.

Maja clasped his elbows and fought down a moment of despair.

'Well,' he thought, unclasping his elbows, 'we live.'

Maja folded his hands in this lap and contemplated the stars before him. He and Sarek were in a lot of trouble but the stars were as beautiful as ever. He gave the Vulcan a sidelong glance and found Sarek not contemplating the stars, but him.

"What now, Maja?"

"Well, unless you have a better idea, Plan A is that we follow these ships wherever they're going and hope it's an inhabited and spacefaring planet. Then we see about finding a ship heading out of this zone and get on it. Plan B, if it's not spacefaring, is that we find a place to hide between my signals to my brothers and hope they find us before the Tziviians."

"What about the pirates?"

"What about them?"

"Will they attack us?"

"I don't know. I reckon they will either see us and come kill us, or not see us at all, or see how small we are and not bother to come kill us." Maja paused a moment to think. "However, were I a pirate and I saw three little ships like these all the way out here by themselves, I'd be awfully curious as to where they came from. But," he yawned, "I am not a pirate."

They fell silent and watched the stars for a while. Maja adjusted their course to stay with the other two ships.

"Maja," Sarek said softly, "why am I now able to understand the Patois?"

Maja made eye contact and decided only the truth would do. He sighed, knowing Sarek would not enjoy what he was about to hear: "There's a hole in your shields that's a channel for the universal language," he said slowly. "We call it the Patois but it's also called the language of the spheres because it's so beautiful and everyone can understand it but only if they're willing to believe they understand it."

"How did a hole get in my shields?" Sarek asked.

"I'm sorry but I unintentionally made it in the healing. I was afraid you would die and in my fear I formed a link to keep you alive on my life energy. The link to me has opened you to the energy streams of the universal language. That's why you can understand it." He looked at the Vulcan, staring into space. "Sorry," he mumbled.

"Can you break it?"

"Not on my own, no. I'd need one of my brothers or a telepathic healer or priest."

"Unless she's dead, your link has superseded my bond with Lady Amanda because I can no longer feel her in it," Sarek said after a moment.

Maja, finding no comment for this, remained silent.

"What is the universal language, Maja?" Sarek asked when he'd determined the half Mage had nothing further to say.

"I'm not supposed to tell but since you have it, you might as well know." Maja collected his thoughts: "I don't know if I believe this but this is what I've been told. The Patois is older than god's wet nurse. It's not really a language with grammar and writing but pure energy in the form of a senseless collection of words from all the languages in the universe. We can understand each other because the energy of the word symbols is in all our consciousnesses, except we don't know it unless we give up not knowing. I knew the Patois on Magidrian before I knew I couldn't know it because it doesn't exist in a tangible form. That's how most people learn it, as children before the I/you split occurs. For us, that split never really takes root, we feel we're all one and everything is god. Telepaths like us can understand the Patois better because we are closer to our psychic energy than other species. But you and I are way far down the telepathic evolutionary scale compared to other species...."

"Stop," Sarek said firmly. "What is this nonsense? What do you mean 'give up not knowing'? How can you know what you know you can't know? You are not making any sense, Maja."

"Well," Maja blew out a patient breath, 'Vulcans,' he thought. "I don't exactly understand it but didn't you say yourself when you heard Patois you could understand it and learn it as if you were remembering the words, not hearing them for the first time?"

"Yes," Sarek said patiently.

"How can you remember something you've never heard before unless it's stored somewhere in your consciousness or your consciousness has access to it?"

"As in the inforcyberwells that house the Artificial Intelligence units?" Sarek asked blandly. "Nonsense," he snapped. "We live in a rational physical universe. Do not ask me to believe in archetypes, oversouls, angels, astral planing, or Santa Claus either."

"Or god?"

"Specify, Maja, you throw that word around as if it were nothing."

"Or everything," Maja said to the Vulcan. "Okay, Sarek, we do live in a rational physical universe where phenomena follow the predictable laws of physics and mechanics. However, if you take one step back from that and ask from whence spring these predictable laws, you have entered the realm of faith and that's where the Patois emanates from. We understand the Patois because our souls are speaking through our minds within the mind of god as god always intended."

"Maja, you have obviously thrown away a perfectly good Vulcan education over the last 18.87 years. The laws of physics are based on the behavior of physical matter and cannot be denied."

"I don't deny that, Sarek, not at all. But don't you ever wonder why we exist? Why any of this exists?"

"No. Do you?"

"Yes. Daily, hourly, moment by moment," Maja laughed, smiling at the stern face before him.

"And do you know why?" Sarek was suddenly very interested.

"No. Not a clue. But," Maja continued, "because I don't know, because I can't know, because I am just a tiny part of the intricate, infinite whole, I have faith that the energy flow of the unknowable mind of god will bring me, and all of us, to our highest manifestation whether we like it or not. Whether we believe in it," he fixed Sarek with a pointed look, "or not."

Sarek gazed mildly into Maja's big brown eyes and suddenly found them very beautiful: "So, what you tell me is that one need do nothing to be in the flow of the unknowable mind of god?"

"Yes, of course, it's rather tarsome but some monastics live and die in just that. I find it boring. Much more enjoyable for me to manifest the divine energy in creating."

"So, as long as you're enjoying yourself you're in the flow of the unknowable mind of god?" Sarek said a little too seriously.

"Yes and no," Maja said thoughtfully, ignoring the Vulcan teasing. "Sometimes creating is a hellish chore but it's still creating, still worthwhile. Believing in your vision, inspiration and skill is still an act of faith that comes more through us than from us as far as I'm concerned."

They fell silent.

"But I digress. Please forgive me. You asked me where the Patois comes from; I don't know for certain. No one knows, we just make the sounds and understand each other." He looked at Sarek. "As we do now," he finished quietly and smiled at the Vulcan.

Whatever Sarek might have said was interrupted by Maja guiding the craft into the atmosphere of and crash landing on the planet they would soon learn was called Imk.

* * *

"... and the doors closed before we could get inside," Kalzat stared at the workshop floor and vaguely wished Jira Krinat would hit him or at least speak or something. Anything but this silence as the MageCheq listened to the tale.

Jir looked around the peaceful workshop. One would never suspect such internal peace and order based on the scarred exterior of the cathedral. Khalatz and his men had tried to hack their way into the building for two days until General KizjietHaat had returned and called him off. Khalatz was under house arrest for not supporting Yustala, the Klingon sanctioned leadership, and the more serious crime of vandalizing religious property.

It was Jir's opinion that the most serious of Khalatz's transgressions was demanding Tien and Polmira be handed over to the Garrison. That made the dancer's hot blood run cold with rage. He had discussed it with the Hierophant, who had agreed with him and assured him that the Haats would keep Khalatz far away from the Gozshedrefreingin Commune, forever. Jir had thanked the old man for that. However, the real issue was that it was not forbidden for warriors to take a concubine slave they fancied to their bed. It was expected in this culture. The Gozshedrefreingin Commune had been lucky thus far; the Hierophant's protection had been enough until now.

'And now,' Jir thought, 'oh lord, what now?'

Jir turned his thoughts back to the more pressing problem of restoring order to Milryia and thereby to Rovirin. General Kizjiet's troops were in the streets fighting rioters, looters, revolutionaries and panicked mobs block by block. Jir had every faith in Kizjiet, however, he had no idea how much of Milryia would be left when the General was finished 'restoring order.'

The short reign of the idiotic Imstk was literally a dead issue, as was Imstk himself. Jir had transported directly into Imstk's office upon arrival. Not realizing that Maja Talljet had boarded the prison transport with Sarek, Imstk had thought Jir had come to bestow Hobie's blessing on his actions. He was very wrong. After scanning the Rovirin for further interesting information and finding none, Jir had simply tied him to a chair, gagged him, slashed three mid sized veins and watched the fool bleed to death at just the right speed to make it a terrible death. Knowing that Sarek would not have come here alone, he signaled his ship and had them beam up whatever Federation identifier signals they could find in the area. Mig signaled a few moments later that Sovort and Smirek were aboard, rather starved and beat up but no permanent damage.

'Fool,' Jir thought sadly, 'you were not worthy for Morel and Yustala to even tread upon.' He had had much respect for both those men and now, like many fine beings he'd known, they were dead. 'Hochofedra,' he shrugged, flipped his hair off his shoulders and headed for the door.

"King Imstk does not wish to be disturbed for at least three hours," Jir blandly told the sentries at the door and of course they believed Hobie the Pirate's brother. "We have just concluded crucial negotiations concerning the future of this entire planet and he feels the need to meditate upon them," Jir added dramatically, sweeping down the long hallway and out of the building.

One look outside convinced the MageCheq to beam back to his ship rather than try to cross the street to the Cathedral. Jir couldn't tell which was worse, the rioters and looters or the Klingons restoring order. Except for the uniforms it was hard to tell them apart.

'I'll leave this to the Klingons; they seem to be enjoying it,' Jir thought. 'Aaaand when they've worn out the rebellion, I'll bring down our people to clean up the mess and maintain order. More gently, however, than the Klingons.' The Talljets still had mining and other interests here and didn't want the planet devastated any more than it was already. He mentally reviewed the Talljet Inc. order restoring squads of 'professionals' ready and waiting in the five Company starships currently in orbit.

Ling and he had come at once in an armada of twenty Talljet Inc. starships. Jir and five ships had split off and made for Rovirin to support or, if necessary, evacuate the Gozshedrefreingin Commune in these times of civil disorder. Ling and the other fifteen ships had gone to reinforce Hobie trying to rescue Maja and Sarek. This was good because including Jir's five ships, General Kizjiet's flagship and four attendant battlecruisers and the Hierophant's well armed flotilla, it was a very crowded orbit around Rovirin at the moment.

Jir beamed to his ship and contacted the Commune to let them know he was beaming in directly. He was later enraged to learn that Khalatz had had men beamed in to try to breach the Commune's defenses. Fortunately, this cathedral, like all Klingon cathedrals, was built so each area could be secured. The warriors that beamed in were trapped, ambushed and dispatched back to the universal energy field. Khalatz quickly gave it up as a bad idea and returned to pounding on the fortified doors and windows. That Klingon had not reckoned on Kalzat's brilliant defense tactics. The one that most delighted Jir was the red hot metal the Communists had rained on the Klingons from the roof of the cathedral. Jir thought it was so dramatic, so effective.

Jir looked at the brilliant Kalzat hanging his head in shame before him. The Klingon was devastated because he had not been able to rescue Master Ghet. His plans had defended the entire Commune and Jir reminded him of that and praised him for it.

"If only Master Ghet were here and could also praise me for that, too." Kalzat muttered, unmollified.

"Well," Jir said gently, remembering how much Kalzat loved Master Ghet, "let us pray that he will be with us very soon." 'What a mess,' he thought bitterly but he managed a small smile and patted the Klingon's shoulder. "Please, Kalzat, be so kind as to show me to Master Khat. We must plan how to proceed once General Kizjiet has restored order."

PART 25

The Enterprise had rendezvoused with the USS Aketi and USS Bharata and Kirk, in charge of the mission until Commodore Phillippe Yakolev and Ambassador Sdiz arrived in the Commodore's flagship, invited the captains and their first officers to dine.

"Do we have to dress up or is it just family, Jim?" Captain Blyton of the Aketi wanted to know.

"Just family, Grace, come as you are," Kirk told her. They had met a long time ago when Kirk was on his first ship and she was XO on the USS Robert Johnson. She'd cheered his ambition and offered him some sound and sisterly advice: "Expect the unexpected; you'll see a lot of it in space." And she had been very right.

"You mean we came all this way out here and don't even get to dress up and show off? Kirk, Ah'm crushed." This was from Captain Xu of the Bharata. Bobby Xu had been raised in Atlanta, Georgia and had a rather disconcerting drawl until one got used to it. He had never met Kirk but was looking forward to it. Also to meeting McCoy, a fellow southerner.

"Nineteen hundred hours, then?" Kirk suggested and all approved.

It had been a boisterous dinner and the last of the Loegerian wine was consumed with gusto. McCoy and Xu had a serious debate about where the best restaurants were in Atlanta. Scott and Lola Hombach, the Bharata's exec, had a long discussion on warp drives and the wisdom of diverting power from shields to weapons and back again in battle. Spock and Francis Renamo, a xenopaleontologist and the Aketi's new executive officer (the former having been snatched to run Commodore Moldanavian's headquarters on Ivbisseria 7) discussed a controversial paper recently published on the fossil findings on Delta 6-55.

Kirk and Blyton refought a recent skirmish the USS Fiji, escorting a Star Fleet 'materials' (weapons and munitions) transport, had had with a trio of pirate ships near Taurilian on the edge of the Erteg system. They had bottomless admiration for the Fiji's captain, Juan Cornet, and thought his tactics superb, however, what if...

The whole table joined in the discussion of how the battle might have gone 'if only' and eventually all the condiments, flatware and a few wrist chronos were pressed into service as surrogates for starships and short range fighters.

By the time the Enterprise's officers saw their satiated guests back to their shuttlecraft it was very late into the ship's night. Elated as they were with wine and conversation, Kirk and his officers were ready for bed. Kirk himself was very much ready for bed but not necessarily for sleep.

Mr. Scott said he'd check on Engineering before he went to bed and left them. The trio silently made their way to their quarters.

McCoy had noticed a light in Kirk's eyes that made him wary and he was trying to think up a gracious way to beg off sex. He liked sex with Kirk but, under the circumstances, didn't think it wise to let it become a habit. He was somewhat disconcerted when Kirk took a firm, no arguments, grip on his elbow and led the doctor into his own quarters, Spock following.

"Now," Kirk began quietly, "I would like to discuss what happened on Plintes 3."

"Jim," McCoy drawled, "I'm exhausted. Can't it wait until tomorrow? I need to sleep." 'Alone,' he added to himself. The doctor was denied Kirk's response when he heard a shipwide page for him to come to sickbay.

"I'll be right there, Lt. Vens," McCoy told the Beta shift communications officer and walked out of his quarters without even looking at Kirk or Spock. So they looked at each other.

"You were saying, Captain?" Spock murmured.

Kirk said nothing, merely closed the distance between them and pulled the Vulcan into a kiss.

~~~

McCoy arrived in sickbay to find Ensign Taus with a broken tibia. He made comforting noises in his best bedside manner to the pained crewman.

~~~

Kirk led his Vulcan to the doctor's bed and they pulled each other's clothes off.

~~~

McCoy hyposprayed the ensign with a sedative and anesthetic.

~~~

Gliding his lips down Kirk's smooth chest, Spock paused to flick the tip of his tongue just at the end of the hard nipple; teasing it higher. Kirk shivered with pleasure beneath him. Spock allowed himself a moment of gratification before moving lower.

~~~

McCoy cut away the dozing Ensign's pant leg.

"How'd this happen?" he asked Lieutenant Morris, who'd carried Taus into sickbay.

"Fell off a ladder in Engineering," Morris said guiltily.

Suspicious, McCoy sniffed Taus' breath but didn't smell any alcohol. He gave Morris a hard look anyway.

"It was a race," Morris said, caving in like rotten fruit. "Taus and Friedman wanted to know which could get from here to there and back again in Engineering the fastest." It came out in a rush of relief. No one enjoyed trying to prevaricate in front of Dr. McCoy.

"Well," McCoy grunted, setting the leg. "Now we all know what a bad idea it was, too."

"Will you tell..." Morris started nervously.

"Mr. Scott? No," McCoy was wrapping the leg in a light bandage. "I should but I won't. No sense adding insult onto injury. Let this be a lesson for all of you."

Morris hung his head in shame tinged with relief and watched McCoy apply polytrenicone to the soft bandage in long smooth strokes. The PTC would harden into a lightweight cast in a few minutes.

~~~

Drawing his tongue along the human's cock in long smooth strokes, Spock explored Kirk's taste and texture. They were not the same but compared favorably with McCoy's, he noted. Engulfing the rosy head and descending, Spock was momentarily distracted by Kirk handing him the lubricant.

Never breaking contact, Spock rolled Kirk onto his left side and settled the human's right thigh on his shoulder, stroking and squeezing the firm round flesh. He ran his tongue along the sensitive band of flesh on the underside of his cock and squeezed a generous amount of lube on his fingers. He gently stroked the entrance to Kirk's body.

Securely held around the waist by Spock's left arm, Kirk could only slide a little further into the hot Vulcan throat as the hot Vulcan fingertip entered him. He moaned softly as the finger progressed to its full length, withdrew and was joined by a second digit. Kirk gasped as the exploring digits found his prostate and gave it a brisk rub with each thrust and withdrawal.

Knowing the human was more than ready, Spock removed his fingers and applied a generous amount of lube to his own cock. He rolled Kirk onto his back and gave the pink cock a few last licks. Spock moved up to kneel between the human thighs, arranging Kirk's ankles on his hips and rolling him forward. He centered his cockhead on the tight ring and very gently but firmly pressed past it. Seeing Kirk grimace, Spock paused to let the human adjust and relax. Knowing how much Kirk wanted this didn't blind Spock to the fact that the second penetration would not be entirely painless either and hence his consideration. Kirk pulled the Vulcan into a passionate kiss and Spock slowly sank into his lover.

Spock buried his face in Kirk's neck and paused to pull himself together when he hit bottom. He looked down into the glowing hazel eyes, merely a ring of hazel around huge pupils, and brought his hand to stroke the cool flesh at Kirk's temple. The meld flared between them as it had before and the Vulcan began to fuck his bondmate with long elegant strokes.

'Yes. Perfect,' Kirk thought, marveling that the sex made the meld so much more amazing than it was, which he'd thought was incredibly amazing anyway.

/... yes.... perfect..../

~~~

McCoy tapped on Taus' cast and pronounced it a success. He and Morris gently roused the ensign and got him sitting up, groggy, but up.

~~~

Very close, they thrust against each other with greater and greater urgency, doubling and redoubling the pleasure between them. Kirk arched against the Vulcan and came, crying out his lover's name. Feeling Kirk clenching around him, Spock managed one last convulsive thrust all the way in and came, his cock jerking and pulsing inside the human flesh that held him. He sank down on his lover, breathing hard and trying not to black out.

Kirk, shuddering with pleasure in the erotic sensation of Spock cumming inside him, wrapped his arms around the broad back and held tight. He felt Spock's arms tighten around him and shudder as the last waves of his profound orgasm died away and they lay spent and satiated.

After a few moments, Spock carefully withdrew and lay on his back. Kirk curled up beside him and went to sleep with his head on the Vulcan's shoulder.

Spock ran his fingers through the gold hair, something he'd always wanted to do, and went to sleep himself. His last thought was that this was McCoy's bed but he was too sleepy to pursue it.

~~~

McCoy watched Morris support Taus out of sickbay and turned to put away his instruments. He gave a moment of thought to Kirk and Spock as he'd so abruptly left them and wondered how their evening had ended up. He was tired, he wanted to sleep and with that in mind, headed for his quarters.

Upon entering them, McCoy thought it was nice that Kirk or Spock had turned off the lights before they left. He then looked at his bed and realized they were still there.

Spock had woken at McCoy's entrance and looked up sleepily and satiated at the doctor.

McCoy always found this look irresistible and melted a little.

The Vulcan twitched back the covers on the unoccupied side of the bed.

After a nanosecond of hesitation, McCoy pulled off his clothes and nestled in Spock's arm. He was asleep almost immediately.

Spock tightened his arm around the doctor and dozed off again noting how enjoyable the sensation of dozing between these two particular beings, of all the beings in the galaxy, was.

* * *

"Fire at will and run for it," Hobie bellowed to his ships, pushing Albany off his lap. Likely, they could have fought off these last three Tziviians but seeing ten fresh ships drop out of warp and assessing the damage to his own ships, Hobie'd sensibly concluded that they should get the hell out of there as fast as possible. They'd come back to look for Maja and Sarek when they'd shaken the Tziviians. "Any sign of the shuttlecraft, Neria-Tza?"

"No, but we were blown out of scanner range so they might be all right," the first mate answered. "I reckon they were far enough away to survive the blast."

Hobie had half expected that answer. "More speed, Dolo-fra," he sang to his engineer.

"FUCK YOU HOBIE, YOU'VE THRASHED THIS SHIP AND THESE BABIES ARE COOKING AS HOT AS THEY'RE GONNA GET," Dolo-fra screamed at his old friend and captain from the bowels of the ship.

Hobie loved few beings as he loved Dolo-fra and he knew the XochiCheq's devotion to these ships and sympathized with him over their condition. However, this was not the time to merely explore their limitations. It was the time to transcend them and pretty damn quick at that.

"Well, darlin', you better crank 'em up a little higher or we're all gonna die," Hobie crooned, knowing it would drive Dolo-fra wild. He also knew Dolo-fra would howl like a moon-crazed Folsa and coax a little more speed out of his babies.

"Seems to be having a challenging day in the engines, don't he, Captain?" Mizat opined from communications.

"Aye, a bit," Hobie agreed. Opening the weapons console on his chair, he blasted one of the fresh ships to hell.

"Well, that's good. We're down to an even number again,"

Qwuushi at the helm said cheerfully either from the Tziviian ship's destruction or from the significant boost of speed he'd just seen from the engines. He adjusted his evasive movements accordingly.

Were he not the second best pilot in the galaxy (Hobie was the first), Hobie might have told Qwuushi to shut up and attend to his job. That was, however, unnecessary as they were, all three of them, putting some distance between themselves and the pirates.

"Is thirteen unlucky in your culture, Terran?" Mizat asked politely in Standard.

"Ummm, yes, it is," Albany managed.

"Really? How interesting," Hobie commented in Standard, firing on another ship, crippling it. 'Albany must feel a little lost in all this screaming and howling in Patois,' he thought. He watched the crippled ship limp away and be picked off by the Maja, along with another ship.

"Hey, that's nice shootin' over there," Hobie opined to no one in particular. His crew nodded.

"We're down to ten ships but they're gaining on us and our weapons are at three percent," Neria-Tza solemnly informed him.

"Dolo, we need more weapons power!" Hobie snapped.

"PULL IT OUT OF YOUR ASS, TALLJET." came the almost incoherent howl. Weapons, however, were boosted 2.88% with only .483% loss to engine power.

"I tell you, that Dolo-fra is a sorcerer," Qwuushi enthused from the helm, adjusting for the slight deceleration.

"Or a saint," Hobie murmured, very very carefully sighting a ship and hoping this was not his last shot. A direct hit, he watched the ship flash into nothingness but could not enjoy it; the Tien's weapons were at zero percent, the engines were spent and that was that.

Hobie tightened his lips when Mizat informed him that the Maja and Yaja were in the same condition.

"Acknowledged, Mizat, acknowledged. Continue evasive ..."

"HOBIE," Neria-Tza yelped, the long cool XochiCheq finally losing his extreme poise, "we've got 15 ships dropping out of warp just behind us!"

"Friend or foe?"

"Dunno."

"Mizat, open a hailing..." Hobie was unable to finish due to the sudden appearance of 15 Talljet, Inc. warships and the sudden destruction of the remaining nine Tziviians.

Hobie sat back. He listened to his mind for a moment and then smiled:

"Oh, it's Ling."

* * *

"Orbit established, Captain," Sulu reported briskly. 'And a rather tight fit,' he thought, looking at all the ships his scanners told him were also in orbit around Rovirin.

"This is a parking lot, Sulu," Kirk sighed at his helmsman.

"Yes, sir."

"Who are all these ships, Spock?" Kirk asked testily. He glanced over his shoulder and smiled at McCoy just entering the bridge.

"Unknown, Captain. Other than the five Federation marked Talljet, Inc. ships, our scanners read the other ships as Klingons but no further information is available to our systems." Spock nodded to McCoy before turning back to his station.

"This is as bad a Starbase 1," McCoy drawled, watching Sulu thread the huge ship through the huge ships.

"Worse. These are Klingons," Kirk said.

"What do we do now?" McCoy asked.

"We go to the planet, find Imstk and demand Sarek and his party be returned to us."

"Or what?"

"Or ... terrible but nonspecific things will happen to them." Kirk was in a difficult spot; he hoped to convince Imstk to return Sarek and his party but if that didn't work all he could do was threaten force but not use it. Commodore Yakolev and Ambassador Sdiz would not arrive for another nine hours and they were not expecting to find five Talljet Inc. and twelve unidentified Klingon ships.

"We're being hailed from the planet, sir," Uhura informed him.

"On visual, Lieutenant," Kirk said and they all looked into General Kizjiet's bland face.

The General, being a member of the highly evolved Haat clan, looked around the bridge and nodded urbanely: "What brings you to Rovirin, Kirk?"

"Sarek of Vulcan has been kidnapped from here and I'm here to retrieve him." Kirk had some difficulty believing Kizjiet didn't know this.

"Yes, I heard about it. Unfortunate. One of our, ah, artisans," the Klingon paused to once again mentally shake his head over the Hierophant's request that Master Ghet not be identified, "was swept away in that mess as well."

"Which one?" Kirk asked smoothly.

"I don't know," Kizjiet returned, "he was next to Sarek when the ship loaded. No idea how he got there."

"I see," Kirk said, finding it harder and harder to believe Kizjiet was so poorly informed but clueless as to why this was so.

In reality, General Kizjiet was completely informed and very annoyed that the Hierophant had sworn him to secrecy. The Hierophant, and Commune and Talljets by extension, feared that if Master Ghet's identity were known on Rist, he might be ransomed or killed or something equally horrible. Better to keep mum and rescue him quietly.

"We will beam down a party to question Colonel Imstk..." Kirk began.

"You'll need a spiritualist to do so, Kirk. Imstk was murdered this morning in his office," Kzijiet said wearily.

"By whom?" Kirk asked.

"Unknown, Kirk, could have been any one of the thousands of enemies he'd made over the past three days," the Klingon said calmly.

"I still wish to beam down a party," Kirk persisted.

"I would prefer you did not, at this time, as civil order has not been restored and as military governor I cannot guarantee the safety of your people." Kzijiet paused to read a note handed to him. "I would prefer to wait for Commodore Yakolev and Sdiz the Vulcan to arrive and then divert enough of my soldiers to protect all of you during our discussions." Tired as he was, Kzijiet knew the only way out of the absurd situation Imstk had put him in without starting a small war was diplomacy and reason. Nauseated, he continued to gaze blandly at the human.

"Uhura, show me what's going on on the planet," Kirk sighed.

The viewscreen split to show the riots and counter riots in the city.

The situation was still seriously bad and Kzijiet was considering surgical strikes against certain areas. His main hesitation was that Klingon ships were not equipped with weapons that only stunned their target and the vision of hundreds of Rovirin corpses, especially with the Federation now involved, was unappealing.

Kirk was searching for a graceful way for both of them to back down. 'Ah, ha,' he thought.

"May we assist you in restoring order, General?" he asked as blandly as the Klingon.

"Perhaps," the Klingon said thoughtfully. "I shall consider it," he added and broke the connection.

"Well, I guess we sit tight for a while," McCoy ventured, watching the riots that filled the screen.

"Yes." Kirk turned to his first officer: "Spock, why are there Talljet Inc. ships here?"

"Unknown, Captain, if I may be allowed to contact one perhaps they will tell us."

"Lieutenant Uhura, hail the biggest one, over there," Kirk waved at the view screen.

Mig's face filled the screen.

'Jir,' Kirk, McCoy and Spock thought.

"Mr. Spock," Kirk murmured, leaving it to the Vulcan.

"Live long and prosper, Smig of Vulcan." Spock brought his hand into the Vulcan salute.

"Peace and long life, Commander Spock," Mig responded, bringing his hand into the salute as well. "We have Lord Sarek's assistant and secretary on board, shall we teleport them to you?" Mig decided to decide for the Enterprise the purpose of their contact and end it quickly.

Spock looked at his captain, who nodded. The Vulcan turned to notify the transporter room of Sovort's and Smirek's impending arrival. He turned back to Mig.

"Live long and.." Mig began in parting.

"Just a moment, your highness," Spock cut in. "Where is Jir?"

"...prosper." Mig clicked off the connection and made a new one to the Commune.

* * *

"You have the loveliest hair, Tien. I wish mine was shiny like this." Jir squeezed Tien's shoulders with his knees and stroked his mane. He was intricately braiding his nephew's long jetty curls. Kalzat, Hraja and Farro sat nearby sketching and drinking tea as was usual in the Commune at that time of day. They were listening to a new disk of Vulcan music Jir brought them. It was performed by Strat, a renowned Vulcan lyre player and an old school friend of the Talljets. It was the first peaceful moment they'd enjoyed since his arrival. Jir opened his communicator when it beeped at him and listened carefully to Mig.

"Well, as long as you didn't tell him where I was, so what?" He said goodbye and returned to his artistic braid.

* * *

"Permission to scan for Jir's Federation Identifier signal, sir," Spock said briskly.

"Granted." Kirk was intrigued. He'd almost forgotten Jir was a Federation citizen and so would, of course, have an FIS. Unless he'd had it removed...

"Located." Spock turned, "Permission to beam to the surface, sir."

"Granted. Take a weapon. Be careful."

"Yes, sir." Spock left the bridge.

CHAPTER 26

"This is DRIVEL." Farro jerked his chin at the disk player.

"But well played drivel," Jir shot back.

"I rather like it," Tien said from between Jir's legs.

"HA!" Farro explained.

"Farro, the musicologist,' Kalzat tossed into the fray.

Hraja, seated between them, rolled his eyes and leaned back in case the teacups started flying; not an unusual occurrence with Farro and Kalzat.

"Boys, boys..." Jir began but was distracted by transporter hum.

Kalzat and Hraja stood and drew their weapons. Farro moved behind them, poised to run for help if necessary. Tien drew a small arm from his skirts and Jir unclasped his sidearm and cocked it. They waited.

Jir let his shoulders slump in relief and his brow furrow in irritation: "Spock! How RUDE."

Spock looked blandly around at the array of weapons aimed at him and then said to Jir: "My apologies, Jir."

"It's all right, children, he's harmless," Jir said, wondering if that were entirely true and holstered his own weapon.

The Communists put their weapons away and returned to their interrupted activities, however, keeping a wary eye on the intruder. Except Tien whose gaze had not wavered.

Spock assumed the low ringing tone in his ears was due to his proximity to so many telepaths. He raised his split fingers to Jir in the Vulcan greeting and was answered in the traditional manner.

"Children, perhaps you should run along," Jir said.

Tien twisted round to look him in the eyes: "Oh, Uncle, please let me stay. I'll be quiet and still."

Jir had never been able to say no to Tien in his life; he'd rather die than deny what was in those eyes right now.

"All right," Jir sighed. "But not a word or sound from ANY of you." He gave Farro a sharp look and got a happy sneer of assent. "Tea, Spock? We have Relan and Ololosta."

Spock accepted a cup of Relan from Hraja, noted his resemblance to Maja Talljet and the freshness of the brew with interest. He sat near Jir, noting Tien's beauty as well as resemblance to Maja and vaguely to someone else he couldn't quite put his finger on. He also noted again that his ears were ringing in a strange way and attributed it to the presence of the many telepathic Patois speaking Communists nearby. The ringing did not, however, interfere with his enjoyment of the music playing.

"How'd you find me, Spock?" Jir asked as Spock got settled into an armchair.

"Your FIS," Spock replied.

"My FIS …?" Jir was puzzled. "OH. The thing in my wrist! I always forget about that. I should have it removed one of these days."

"You will never be able to get onto a Federation planet if you do," Spock said. "They scan them without bringing it to your attention." He sipped his tea. "Unless you do not have one, then that is brought to the attention of many people."

"Ummm," the MageCheq murmured and they were silent for a while.

Jir had returned to his braiding: "Now, Vulcan, what the hell do you want?"

"I want my father and Maja returned," Spock said.

Nobody flinched. The Communists knew GozineGhet was an alias and had heard the Talljet uncles call him Maja over the years.

"Of course," Jir said shortly. "Hobie told you we're working on it and we are. What else do you want?"

Spock sipped his tea and studied Tien studying him.

"I still wish to speak to your brother, Jir."

"We'll see, Spock, we'll see. Let's get them back alive and whole first, hey?"

Spock was somewhat mollified by that.

"Who are these people, Jir?"

Jir stroked Tien's braid and decided a section of the truth wouldn't hurt anyone: "This," he gestured to Tien with his chin. "Is Tien Gozshedrefreingin baMajaKhat, Maja's oldest and Master Khat's journeyman painting assistant. "

"I heard my name," Master Khat said entering.

"Indeed, Maja. I'm just introducing your children to SpockDeVulCheq."

Master Khat nearly dropped the cup he'd just accepted from Hraja: "Really?" He looked down at Tien, who winked at him. "Hmmmm," he murmured. He nodded at Spock: "I'm Master Khat. Sorry about your father, I met him and he seemed a decent sort." He paused to acknowledge Spock's micro nod. "I'm a Maja, too, lots of them out this way." He sat and frowned at Farro's drawing of Spock, making some significant and more flattering suggestions for it.

"Lose the horns, little one," Master Khat murmured in Patois.

"And this is your son?" Spock said looking hard for a trace of Klingon in the very vulcanoid Tien.

"Yes," MajaKhat said simply and sipped his Ololosta tea.

Spock, outnumbered and trying to be gracious, decided this was not the time to debate that: "And the other three, Jir?"

"The big blonde one is Hraja Gozshedrefreingin baMajaKhat, our Maja's second son and sculpture journeyman assistant. He's a very fine stone sculptor," Jir said.

Hraja nodded politely and returned to his drawing of Spock (without horns).

Spock returned the nod, noting the obvious (to him) fusion of his Maja and MajaKhat in the youth.

"And the little dark one..." Jir continued, or tried to at least.

"I'm NOT little," Farro snarled.

"Sorry, the mouthy dark one," Jir paused to stare the lad down. "Is Farro Gozshedrefreingin baMajaKhat. He's just become Master sDhec's journeyman metal assistant. He's a very fine bronze sculptor."

Spock nodded at Farro, who was suddenly too shy to look up from his drawing. He was struggling with age thirteen; the entire Commune struggled along with him as best they could.

In truth, he was the Commune's favorite of the Ghet-Khat household because he was the most outgoing and friendly and interested in the doings of others. Tien was considered brilliant but cold and Hraja gentle but withdrawn, but Farro was always welcome in the middle of things. He, like his brothers, was honest, loyal and good natured, he was just more obvious about it. And dearly dearly loved for it.

"And this is also your son?" Spock asked Master Khat, again searching for a trace of Klingon in the little vulcanoid.

"Yes," MajaKhat affirmed. No need to tell this... person... that Farro's father had taken Gozine away from MajaKhat when they arrived in the Commune, fathered Farro and then tossed Gozine and baby out of his workshop when the MageCheq had gone back to male. And then conveniently fallen off a scaffold and broken his neck when Farro was a toddler. No matter, MajaKhat loved them all the same and had the most wonderful time watching them grow up and turn out really spectacularly well. Really.

Farro knew MajaKhat was not his biofather but could care less. He considered MajaKhat his father and offered to fight anyone who wanted to disagree. Tien felt the same way but was a bit more diplomatic about it.

"And that's KalzatMzir, Tien's boyfriend and defender of the Rovirin cathedral," Jir finished.

Kalzat and Spock exchanged tiny nods. The Klingon-Vulcan war was long over but a certain wariness remained between the species.

"Why did it need defending?" Spock asked, accepting more tea from Hraja.

"The Klingon Garrison took a fancy to our Tien and Polmira, whom you haven't met, and had to be, ah, discouraged," Jir told him.

Spock took a long look at Tien and felt a chill run up his spine. 'That beauty with those ...'

"Actually, Kalzat," Jir asked the Klingon, breaking into Spock's thought before he could get too worked up. "I've been wondering whose idea it was to rain hot metal on the Klingons?"

"Farro's," Kalzat answered.

"Except it was polluted," Farro snapped.

"Hot metal?" Spock asked Tien.

"Yes," Tien nodded, smiling, "little chunks of nickel, iron, copper, bronze, calicine, torp - whatever we had laying around. About so big," he made a small circle with thumb and forefinger, "heated in a cauldron with a torch and poured off the roof. Too clever; really!"

"Polluted how, dear?" Jir asked Farro.

"My original brilliant idea that I thought up all by myself ..."

"... was to pour molten metal on them," MajaKhat finished for him to save time. "The Masters felt that was a bit much. We merely wanted to discourage the Klingons, not fry their bones."

"Hmmm," Jir murmured putting the last ribbon on Tien's ornate braid and giving him a pat.

"How old are you, Tien?" Spock asked, examining him.

Tien rose gracefully, dipping his head and flipping his massive braid off his shoulder so very much as Maja Talljet had on Vulcan long ago that Spock was momentarily wordless.

"Old enough," Tien drawled coolly. He sashayed over to Kalzat and snuggled into the Klingon's lap.

Spock repressed his annoyance at Tien's sass and his taste in seating.

Jir rolled his eyes in annoyance when Kalzat began to amuse himself by undoing the fabulous braid.

"Humph! Children, if you're going to wreck my hard work go do it where I can't see you doing it," he said, disgusted.

The children rose and left the room in an outraged but dignified group.

MajaKhat was still chuckling when Spock's communicator beeped at him.

"How goes it, Mr. Spock?" Kirk had waited as long as he could.

"Well, Captain," Spock replied.

"That KirkaFar?" Jir asked. "Jir says hi," he added waving cheerfully. "Hi, KirkaFar. Hi."

"Jir Talljet sends his regards, sir," Spock said, knowing Jir would go on and on until he did.

"Where are you?" Kirk asked.

"Inside the Rovirin Cathedral," Spock answered.

"That's directly across the street from the Palace of Government," Kirk said, consulting the schematic General Kzijiet had sent over. "Stay put. Kzijiet is withdrawing his men and we're going to quell the civil unrest with phaser stuns to the city streets. Time to completion is ten standard minutes."

Jir considered protesting this on the basis of ... what? He wanted the riots ended as much as anyone but it felt unseemly to have it done by Star Fleet. He was rather sorry he'd not thought of it himself. Kzijiet must be near the end of his resources if he was taking aid from Kirk the Beautiful.

Spock looked around the peaceful, well ordered room and wondered that there could be riots outside. Or that this building had ever been stormed by rampaging Klingons. He looked at Jir straining to read the tops of these thoughts that peeked over his high Vulcan shields.

"What is this music, Jir?" Spock asked, letting a lyre cadenza fill his mind instead.

"The new Strat disk Ling brought from Shirkar. You remember Strat? Used to run around with Hobie on Vulcan. Gave you a few lyre lessons as I recall," Jir smiled at one of his happier memories of Vulcan.

"Yes, of course." It was a pleasant memory for Spock, too. He even paused to enjoy it. "Yes. I thought it might be him."

"You may have it, Spock," Jir smiled at him and winked at MajaKhat. "The children," he drawled too seriously, "are incapable of appreciating it."

* * *

"What's closest?" Hobie asked Ling's image on the viewscreen of the Tien.

"Povarb. You can refit there and go back to look for Maja and Sarek." Ling said this but was dubious of the idea. The Talljets didn't know this space and were thoroughly loathed in it to boot. Except Maja, who was unknown to the Tziviians. He shuddered at the thought of the Tziviians finding out Maja was Hobie's brother.

"I know, I know," Hobie said quickly in response to Ling's thought. "We'll find him. Them. Don't worry."

It was, however, worrying. They did not know what planet Maja and Sarek had gone to or if they had succeeded in getting there. Hobie and Ling assumed they would feel it if he were dead but if he died when his shields were up ... nah, his spirit would tell them, they were sure of that.

"So we assume Maja's alive at least, hopefully Sarek ..." Ling trailed off at Hobie's sneer.

"Now, Hobie, wouldn't Maja feel stupid if, after all this, he couldn't get Sarek back to Vulcan alive, no matter how you feel about it?" Ling soothed.

"Yes, dear," Hobie sighed, "right as usual." He turned to look Dolo-fra, just entering the bridge, in the face. "Yes, savior of we unworthy to lick your ... boots," he purred at his favorite engineer.

"You're a savage, Hobie, what you've MADE ME DO TO THESE POOR ENGINES IS A CRIME AGAINST NATURE."

Ling's eyes got big and everybody on both bridges was suddenly very engrossed in their work.

"Did you come up here just to scream at me, Dolo?" Hobie asked pleasantly, ignoring the outburst. He was used to it.

"Yes, of course."

"Hmmm. Well, I've good news for you, Dolo. We're going to Povarb." Hobe informed him. "We can dry dock there, you can take things apart, put them together, take them apart again. You know, all that stuff you so love to do." He smiled charmingly.

"Povarb? Oh, good!" Dolo-fra enthused, completely cured of his ill humor. He turned to the viewscreen and waved at Ling: "Hullo, Ling, thanks for rescuing us. See ya." And left the bridge.

"Okay, back to reality, everyone," Hobie said. "Neria-Tza, based on the last reading, where did, could, probably might have that shuttlecraft go?"

"I've got the coords and projected course but no idea the name of the planet or what's there, Hobie," Neria-Tza answered. "But how are you going to get them in the middle of the Tziviian Autonomous Zone?"

"I'm taking suggestions."

"You could send them a flying pig to ride home on," Qwuushi offered.

"SHUT UP." Hobie was suddenly ice.

"Sorry," Qwuushi said sincerely, knowing he'd gone too far.

Hobie exhaled and unclenched his jaw.

"Hobie," Mizat said gently, "as you know, we've lost the element of surprise. I've been monitoring their communications and our 'invasion' is all they can talk about. They've upped their patrols and the Hovra pirates have joined them to fight the common enemy. Us."

"Invasion?" Ling asked.

"Better they think it's an invasion than we're lookin' for something or somebody," Neria-Tza said quietly.

"So how do we get in there and get Maja?" Ling wanted to know. "And Sarek," he added for his own benefit.

"We don't," Hobie said flatly. "We don't go near the Tziviians, that space gives me the creeps anyway. But it's more than that," he continued, responding to Ling's frown. "We can't track Maja with our shields up, as they must be in that space or we all go crazy, and he can't signal us for the same reason. We gotta send someone who can track him and keep the Tziviians off at the same time. Someone used to finding and retrieving telepaths. Bounty hunters. Empath/telepaths. Mr. Yrit and Mr. Gvo."

'Oh, Hobie,' thought Neria-Tza. Messrs. Yrit and Gvo scared him, a lot.

"Gotta better idea, XochiCheq?" Hobie asked him.

"No," Neria-Tza said, suddenly inclined to agree with Dolo-fra that Hobie was indeed a savage.

"Has anyone got a better idea?" Hobie raised his voice and looked around both bridges. "If so, I'd like to hear it RIGHT NOW."

Heads were shaken.

"Get them," Hobie turned to Mizat, referring to Yrit and Gvo. "I'll pay for their earliest convenience. Face to face, nothing on the freq, you dij?"

"I dij." Mizat turned to his communications board, hoping that sending the scariest beings in the galaxy after sweet Maja Talljet was the right thing to do.

* * *

"This planet is now a Federation Protectorate," Commodore Yakolev informed them, standing in the SubLeader's office in the Palace of Government (the Leader's office carpet still needed Imstk's blood washed out of it) after civil order had been restored.

"WHAT!" Jir yelped in surprise. Yakolev's pronouncement abruptly terminated his contemplation of what was on between Kirk, Spock and McCoy. Based on the information in their telefields, it was something rather wild, really rather wild.

General Kzijiet and the Hierophant exchanged interested looks. They actually could care less; they'd had enough of this contentious backwater. The Hierophant would mourn the loss of the cathedral, it was magnificent. But there were other cathedrals to build. One on Zhaharnisha, as a matter of fact.

"This is by order of the Federation Council," Yakolev declared.

McCoy could almost see the 'LAWYER' switch flip to the 'on' position in Jir. He glanced at Kirk and Spock, both politely engrossed in staring into the middle distance. He wondered if they had known this was to happen but it was impossible to tell.

"Don't you wave your Federation Council at me, Commodore," councilor Talljet said with deceptive blandness. "Talljet Inc. holds title to this planet, we lease huge swathes of it to the Klingons, and you are trying to seize the private property of a Federation Chartered Corporation." He inhaled. "Commerce, Commodore, is usually ten steps ahead of gunboat diplomacy."

"Then in the name of the United Federation of Planets I nationalize this planet," the Commodore snarled back.

Jir raked the Klingons with his eyes. No help there; if they were willing to fight for this little planet they would have spoken up by now. He didn't have enough Talljet Inc. firepower and Hobie's fleet was too far away to cope with the twenty warships Yakolev brought with him. And starting a fight between StaFlet and Company ships was the stupidest thing he could imagine. Only the Klingons could have given Yakolev pause and they were a nonstarter.

"Then I'll see you in court or hell or BOTH." Jir returned to 'DIVA' mode and stormed out of the room with Mig in his wake.

There was an extended silence in the room, as if they were waiting for Jir's rage to dissipate or the world to end or something.

The silence was broken by General Kzijiet contacting his ship and beaming himself and the Hierophant the hell out of there.

"'Gunboat diplomacy'," Ambassador Sdiz, silent until then, said slowly from his chair by the fire. "I have always admired Jir's way with words. It makes him a formidable attorney, in and out of the courtroom. Not to mention a fascinating conversationalist, I'm told." Sdiz had trained as an attorney before switching to diplomacy. He was familiar with Jir's work on Vulcan and elsewhere. In his next free moment he planned to peruse the public records of Talljet, Inc. in order to admire the intricate web of legalities that would eventually return Rovirin, at least partially, to Talljet management. At this time, however, he simply rose from his comfortable chair and addressed the Terrans: "If you will excuse me, I will attempt to forge an agreement with the new masters of Rovirin." He paused, "If I can find them."

"Do you think the Klingons will fight?" Yakolev asked him.

"No."

"Why not?" Yakolev asked after an interval.

"They are intelligent enough to know that Rovirin is not worth starting an intergalactic war over," Sdiz said, heading for the door. "At this time," he added, gently closing it behind him.

* * *

"Pack up the Garrison; we're leaving," General Kzijiet ordered from his ship. He knew the Haats would be disappointed to lose this rich planet but less disappointed than with an all out war with the Federation over it. They left orbit four hours later.

* * *

"A shame to leave it," the Hierophant Kroldt said sadly to Master Khat as he took one last look at the cathedral. "But to stand in the path of a charging targ and try to reason with it is more foolish than flight," he quoted an old Klingon proverb. "Do you think they'll destroy it?"

"The cathedral? The Terrans?" Master Khat asked, he hadn't really been paying attention, his thoughts were on Master Ghet. "No, they haven't destroyed any other work they've inherited from us. They admire it even if they don't understand it. Why," he laughed, "they even turned one church into a theater."

Kroldt did not laugh, his thoughts had moved on already: "Do you think he's alive?" he asked.

"I certainly hope so, Master, I pray so."

"An excellent idea," Kroldt murmured and led MajaKhat to the front of the church to pray for the safe return of Master Gozine Gozshedrefreingin Ghet.

Two hours later the Commune loaded itself into the Hierophant's ships and was gone.

part 27

"The Federation has seized Rovirin and there wasn't a damn thing I could do about it," Jir told his brothers from the bridge of his Talljet Inc. ship. "The fucking ridgeheads didn't even lift a finger to help me. Without Maja to keep them on the straight and narrow and on our side, they just don't give a damn about ornery little planets like Rovirin."

There was a longish silence as Hobie and Ling digested this news. Hobie adjusting to losing a strategic position in non-aligned space yet again. Ling, to losing the rich mineral wealth and skilled labor.

"Well, shit," Hobie said at last. "Pack us up and get outta there, Noli."

Jir closed his eyes and nodded. He'd given the order to pack up and move out hours ago.

"And lighten up, darlin'," Hobie soothed. "It's a big galaxy ..."

"... with room for everyone," Jir and Ling finished bitterly for him.

"Hobie," Jir ventured after a pause. "Are you sure you want to send Mr. Death and Mr. Suffering after them?" he asked, referring to Yrit and Gvo.

"Yes. You ever been in Tziviian space? With your shields down, it's like those nightmares where you're running for your life but never get anywhere, while the danger gets closer and closer. Only nightmares can live in a nightmare."

* * *

Maja had taken a look at the city on the craft's scanners and decided to crash in privacy a ways from it. In order to hide the craft, he'd chosen a marshy, tree-filled plain. After a few bumps and a thump, Sarek and he pried open the doors and waded to a sandbar. They stood quietly, collecting their thoughts, catching their breath and watching the shuttlecraft sink into the mud and disappear.

"I hear vehicle traffic in that direction, Maja," Sarek said after a moment. "Come."

Maja nodded, glad to just follow Sarek for the time being.

They made their careful way to a multi-lane road and began to walk alongside it. It started to rain. Sarek extended his cloaked arm and Maja slipped under both. Maja slipped his arm around Sarek's waist and supported the Vulcan a little, also quietly sending a low level of energy into him. They trudged damply along for quite a ways.

Maja was pleased and then dismayed when a huge ugly freighter truck pulled up next to them and a huge even uglier humanoid leaned out and leered at him, saying in Patois: "Riiiide, pretty one?"

He felt Sarek's arm tighten around him.

"Say no," the Vulcan whispered.

"It's too far to walk in this rain," Maja hissed back, sotto voce and then yelled: "For both of us, trucker."

"Yah, yah, yah. K'min, k'min, k'min," he chanted, letting down a ladder for them.

Maja pushed Sarek ahead of him, just so the trucker didn't try to pull a fast one, and climbed in himself.

"You sit next to me, pretty one," the trucker snarled as he dragged Maja across Sarek's lap. He encircled Maja's thigh with one huge hand and squeezed gently before turning to his truck controls.

The truck roared off and switched to hover mode, gliding toward the blue blob of a city on the greenish horizon.

* * *

"How are you holding up, Commander Albany?" Hobie asked gently in Standard, handing the Terran a glass of Loegerian brandy.

"Well, thank you, Captain Talljet," Albany said, relaxing, for the first time in days, into a plush chair in Hobie's cabin. "Thank you for looking after my crew." 'They are my crew now,' he thought sadly.

"We would none of us be here it she hadn't destroyed the mothership, Terran," Hobie responded to Albany's sadness. "The needs of the many always outweigh the needs of the few. Your good captain knew that and acted on it as would few ever have the courage."

Albany nodded; knowing the pirate was right didn't make it any less sad.

"Then let's drink to her." Hobie stood. 'And then I'll take you to bed and see if I can't ease some of that sadness of yours,' he thought. "To Captain Maria Norris, whose name and memory I shall defend forever."

"To Captain Maria Norris," Albany murmured, looking into Hobie's caressing eyes. They tapped their snifters and drank in silence.

Hobie was about to make his move when his comm line sounded beneath the Terran's hearing.

"They're here," was all Oza-Tol had to say.

Hobie told him to bring them in.

"Will you excuse me while I conduct a little business in Patois, Commander?" he asked Albany politely.

"Of course, Captain Talljet," Albany replied.

"Oh, call me Hobie." Hobie turned his attention to the door and watched it slide open.

As often as he'd hired Mr. Yrit and Mr. Gvo for this, that or the other thing, Hobie'd never overcome the chill that ran up his spine every time he laid eyes on them. He felt Albany freeze up behind him and turned around. He laid two gentle fingers on the Terran's temple: "Sleep a little, yes, sleep," and settled the Terran's head on the tabletop. He turned back.

The tall, pale bounty hunters were flanked by Ling, Oza-Tol, Neria-Tza and Mizat - four of the strongest telepaths among their ships - and still their energy slithered obscenely around the room. No one offered them a chair as no one wanted them there that long.

"You sssent forrr usss, pirate?" Yrit hissed in Patois, his vocal cords not used to working but knowing Hobie would never unshield enough for telepathy.

"Aye." Hobie kept his gaze on Yrit's chest, no one else made eye contact, it was too hypnotic, too dangerous with psychic vampires like these. "Master Ghet of the Klingon Empire is castaway on a planet in the Tziviian Autonomous Zone somewhere near prina9924455.34. We want you to get him, and Sarek the Vulcan, back." He did not describe either Maja or Sarek to these creatures who saw reality only by its psychic emanations.

"Sssssssarek," hissed Gvo, also unused to speech. "How to find them booooth?"

"They will be together or one will be dead. In that case bring the one that lives."

"And if not together?" Yrit breathed.

Hobie thought about this: Yrit and Gvo were MageCheqs and like the Talljets had a certain amount of second sight. Worse, Yrit was a PholCheq and the Phols were the oracles of the galaxy. Gvo was a CvomiCheq, also psychic but more skilled in reading the portents in the fabric of the universe than the visions of the Phols. So Hobie thought for a moment about what Yrit was saying to him.

"Then bring Master Ghet only," he said at last.

There was a silence but they could feel the hunters' energy redirect to each other as they conferred on the matter at hand.

"The pricsssse for one is one half Prossssi tonne of dilithium chryssssssssssstals. For two is one Prosssi tonne of sssssame."

Ling suppressed an internal flinch; the price was the annual GDP of Vulcan.

"You're mad. The Klingons and the Vulcans won't pay that much," Hobie lied.

"Klingonsssss, Vulcanssss not paying," Gvo breathed. "Master Ghet your brotherrrr."

"Nevertheless, that's still outrageous," Hobie stated, wishing Jir were here to haggle with these ghouls as he had last time they'd cut a deal with them. Jir was brilliant at striking a deal, even with Mr. Death and Mr. Suffering.

They went back and forth for a while and finally agreed on .75 Vitisi tonne, not Prosi tonne, for two and .32 Vitisi tonne for one.

Ling tried not to be too relieved; the new deal was still the first quarter GDP of Vulcan, maybe a tad more.

"And you may not feed on them. If they come to me psychically damaged, even scratched, I'll kill you both," Hobie told the vampires as if he were telling them the time of day.

Now came the part everyone dreaded: the hunters would need something to track from.

Hobie produced one of his dearest treasures: Maja's most recent sketchbook. The all watched in horror as the vampires pawed it and drew its emanations into themselves.

/yessss .... yessss/

Hobie closed his mind to their obscenity.

They placed the object on the deck, knowing Hobie would not touch it until their energy, which never penetrated anything very deeply or very long, had completely dissipated.

For Sarek, Hobie produced something that surprised Ling a little: a finely carved tahola wood hairbrush with a few silky onyx hair still in it.

The bounty hunters spent more time, much more time, with this object...

/very faint...well shielded...contained, contained.../

... but finally put it down.

The pirates turned to go but Messrs. Yrit and Gvo did not move.

"How issss my sssssson, Hobie?" Yrit hissed. Yrit and Gvo were lovers and like most MageCheqs, had flipped for each other and had six children between them. Unlike the Talljets, however, they had sold their children to the highest bidders. And the bidding had been sky high as these children were, with proper training, likely to grow into prophets. Jir had gotten a good deal on Laninin because the child was born blind and Jir had caught Yrit in a sentimental moment about his youngest and last child. The price was also low because Yrit and Gvo were allowed to visit him in Ling's joyhouse whenever they wanted, provided they gave enough notice. (Even powerful empaths like Qhoshi, the madam, and Ling's employees needed time to prepare for creatures such as these two.) The pair had never done so, but always asked whichever Talljet they saw about the child.

"He's fine, Mr. Yrit," Hobie said. "I saw him five months ago. The empaths are teaching him well and he is very good at orienteering."

"What issss?" Gvo asked.

"It's following a trail of objects embedded with energy," Hobie said. 'Like you do,' he thought. "Who knows, he might grow up to be a bounty hunter."

Mr. Yrit and Mr. Gvo slammed up their shields for a little privacy, left the room and shortly thereafter, the ship.

Hobie woke Commander Albany and sent him to bed. Perhaps he'd seduce him tomorrow, tonight he wanted no more foreign energy in his area. He went to bed alone and dreamed of Laninin, empty eyes glowing, following the faintest whisper of ancient dried tears.

* * *

Maja didn't need second sight to know what was going to happen when the trucker pulled out his huge ugly cock and waved it at him.

"Mouth or hands, pretty one, up to you," he leered.

Maja felt Sarek turn to stone behind him: "Make him stop the truck so we may get out, Maja."

"We're on a bridge with no walkway, Sait (old man), and he won't stop, he'll just open the door and shove us into the water," Maja murmured in Vulcan as he slowly scooted near the trucker. Shielding the energy in his hand as best he could he made contact with the clammy flesh. He drew back and tried again more successfully even though he couldn't get his long fingers all the way around it. The trucker didn't seem to mind, he snaked an arm around the cringing MageCheq and crushed him into his smelly armpit. Not that Maja and Sarek smelled divine after their time in the fetid prison ship, but still, even so, Maja was revolted by the feel and smell of the trucker.

'And,' he thought, establishing a jerking rhythm the trucker moaned his approval for, 'if I try to meld with him while he's driving he might crash and then where are we? Dead or maimed.' He visualized the trucker dead instead of panting and moaning next to him. He increased his grip and tempo. 'C'mon, let's get this over with, you ugly targ dick,' Maja thought savagely as the trucker began to wail and bounce in his seat.

When Maja finally felt the vile object begin to jerk and spew in his hand, he pointed it at the driver's door and looked away from the pale orange foam splattering and sliding down it. When it had finished spewing and the trucker had stopped screaming and bouncing and released him, Maja removed his hand and kept it well away from any other parts of his body. He scooted as close to Sarek as he could, trying not to gag too obviously.

Sarek, who'd split his attention between the hand job and the water, gauging their chances of swimming away from all this, put his arm around Maja and offered him the corner of his still damp cloak to wipe his hand on.

Maja gratefully accepted and wiped both hands as if he were trying to remove a layer of skin.

The three were silent for some time, each deep in their own thoughts.

As they neared the end of the bridge (where Maja had emphatically requested to be dropped off), at the outskirts of the city, the trucker cleared his throat and glanced nervously over at them: "I, ah, I got a little house in Tabjeg, about 10 hours from here. After I drop this load, I could take you there, both of you," he nodded at Sarek. "I'm buyin' a bigger truck next year and could get a bigger house, too, so your Sait would have more room. Until I do, you," he looked a Maja, "you could travel with me and he can have the whole house. I go to some interesting places in this half of Imk. Or you could stay home, with the Sait," he added quickly, seeing Maja cringe, "I don't mind, I could take shorter hauls, I've been thinking about doing that, settlin' down, you know?"

"Ummmm...." Maja trailed off, after a silence. He was working hard to keep his face blank and not throw up on the starry eyed trucker.

"They've got notaries here, we could, y'know, make it official before we go to Tabjeg, if that makes you feel better," the trucker suggested hopefully. Maja's stomach keeled dangerously.

"Please, stop," Sarek said politely in Patois.

"Beg pardon?"

"Here," the Vulcan gestured to the streets at the end of the bridge, now passing by. "Please, stop here."

The trucker geared down to stop at a jammed intersection.

"I, ah ..." he looked at Maja.

"Thank you. Goodbye." Sarek opened the door, pulled Maja out of the truck and walked away, guiding Maja with a firm grip on the MageCheq's elbow. Neither he nor Maja looked back.

It had stopped raining but it was still cold and night was falling. Maja wondered where he could find them shelter before dark, in a strange city, where he had no money, etc. He decided not to think about it until he'd washed the trucker off his hand.

"Water, Sait, soap, water, acid, soap," Maja chanted, heading toward a group of women doing laundry in a public trough.

"Drinking or washing?" he asked in Patois.

"Washing," a crone pointed to a plain stone trough.

"A little soap, mother?" Maja asked, pushing his sleeves up and plunging his hands into the cold, clear water.

The old woman gestured that she only had laundry soap. Maja nodded and held out his hands.

"I've got much nicer soap than that at my house, pretty one, and nice hot water, too."

Maja slowly looked up at a shapely middle aged woman with long red hair tied in an orange ribbon standing over him.

"And maybe a little something else for you, too," she continued in Patois, turning slightly to give him a better view of her, in case he'd not already gotten an eyeful.

"Like a hot meal?" Maja ventured politely.

"Yeah, that, too."

Maja tilted his head at Sarek.

The woman looked him over critically, then back at Maja, deciding if he was worth it.

"I got a hot bath and meal for your Sait, too, but that's all," she said firmly, as if closing a deal on a dozen eggs.

"That's all he wants, Fara (beautiful one), lead on," Maja smiled, shook the water from his hands, and exchanged arch looks with the crone.

The redhead smiled wickedly, took Maja by the arm and promenaded down the street so everybody could see her new 'house guest.' Sarek followed; his face unreadable.

She led them to a narrow two story house in a row of similar houses on a little street just off the market square.

It was clean and warm inside and both vulcanoids relaxed a little for the first time in days. She led them through several rooms containing baskets of light brown flossy material neither of them recognized. The biggest room also contained a desk and shelves, which they recognized but also a scale and machinery they'd never seen before.

"Are you strangers here?" she asked, observing them examining the contents of the rooms. "We spin ropes, nets, baskets and other industrial products out of this floss. We call it 'ojijka' in our language. It grows in the roots of 'ojij' trees in the south. I broker it to weavers, here in Bkiz and a few cities outside. I'm one of three brokers in this region," she boasted. "These are just samples, I've a warehouse full in the Sosi district. It's good for industrial products, very strong and flexible but not good for fabric." She led them into a large kitchen with a big curtained bed in one corner, a screen in the other and a piled up desk in another. She threw a log on the fire and hung a kettle over it. "I don't broker the fabric flosses, too much competition and they're all thieves."

"In the roots of trees? How is it ..." Sarek ran out of vocabulary.

"Harvested," Maja supplied.

The redhead picked up a dried twig from the mantle and held it out to them: "The floss pushes a plant through the dirt and when you pull the plant, the floss comes with it." She picked up another dried twig, different from the first and held them together. "Each different floss has a slightly different plant. It's how we know which to harvest and which to leave. This," she waved a twig at them, "is the highest quality, this the next grade down. Never buy any floss that doesn't have the plant still on it," she cautioned, "you'll always wonder what you're getting." She put the twigs down, reached into a cupboard and pulled out a dead animal.

"We don't eat flesh, Fara," Maja told her, settled Sarek into a chair and knelt to remove the Vulcan's boots. Sarek, whose feet were hurting, wondered how Maja knew that but did not protest.

"Oh, really? Well, I'll save it for another day, then." She put it away. "What do you eat?"

"Grains and vegetables." Maja decided not to cloud the issue with dairy products since dairy meant so many things on different planets. He hung Sarek's cloak over a chair by the fire to dry. He set Sarek's heavy damp Vulcan boots on the hearth to dry and pulled off the wet socks. He draped them over the boots and looked critically at the swollen, blistered feet.

The woman looked on with interest at such devotion. She brought a basin of warm water and a bottle of oil then returned to chopping up tubers for dinner.

Seeing her attention elsewhere, Maja quickly healed the worst of the damage and eased the Vulcan's feet into the warm water. He felt a little more tension go out of Sarek and reached into the water to massage the circulation back into his feet.

Sarek, no longer in pain, had the leisure to examine Maja's hands massaging his feet. He wondered what the faint dark marks on them were. Had the half Mage bruised his hands fighting in the transport or the crash or in the truck somehow? He could not recall the empath Talljet brothers ever sustaining a cut, bruise, burn or abrasion for more than a moment; their internal healing mechanisms were too swift and efficient.

Maja felt the water cooling and dried Sarek's feet on a rough towel the woman tossed him. He rubbed a small amount of oil into to each foot and looked about for something to wrap them in. The woman inclined her head toward a blanket over a chair by the fire. Maja rose to fetch it and noticed a half finished sweater the woman was making. He approved of her choice of colors and pattern, it would suit her nicely.

"That will be pretty, Fara," Maja told her, jerking his chin at the sweater.

"Well, I think so," she was pleased by his remark. "My husband always wanted to deal in the luxury flosses but I could never see the profit in it." Her words were tinged with some regret.

"Husband?" Maja looked around him and finding no obvious traces of one. He tucked the blanket around Sarek and wrapped it around the Vulcan's feet.

"He died in a vehicle accident five harags ago," she said, checking the fire under the cooking pot. "At first it was hard to run the business without him, the mills don't like new faces but they got used to me." She put plates and a pot of steamed vegetables on the table next to a loaf of black bread. "And, after all, I only broker the highest quality industrial floss so they know they're always getting quality goods from me," she said firmly, waving Maja to a chair.

Other than that it was vegetable matter, the vulcanoids had no idea what they were eating. This did not at all interfere with their enjoyment of it.

part 28

Maja hadn't a clue how long a harag was but it seemed to him this woman had been alone for a long time so he decided to chance it: "Why haven't you married again, Fara? Smart pretty woman like you should have her pick of men," he said between bites.

She smiled: "Can't find one I like well enough to keep around. Either they're lazy and want me to do all the work or they're after my business. You can't imagine what a problem it is." She watched Maja clear the table and wash up with approval. "Gotta name, pretty one?"

"Maja," he said, pouring more water for Sarek.

"That makes you the, let's see, fifteenth Maja I've met so far," she informed him.

"Oh? What does it mean in your language, Fara?" Maja asked.

"It means 'prosperity' where I come from, I knew a girl in school named Maja," she said. " What's it mean where you come from?"

"'Little jewel'," Maja told her, hoping he wasn't telling her something that would identify him as an enemy. Evidently not; she seemed delighted.

"Well, you need prosperity to get big as well as little jewels, don't you?" she laughed and rose. She crossed the room and drew back a screen, revealing a tub. She turned on the taps and put some clean towels nearby.

"Do you have a name, Sait?" she asked Sarek.

"Sait is all," he answered, ignoring Maja's impressed but ironic grin.

"Well, that's easy to remember," she said. (Maja had to look away for laughing.) "You can bathe first," she continued, tossing a sheet to him. "You can sleep in that. Let's see if I can't get your stinky clothes cleaned for you." She called 'Nroty' out the back door as Sarek stripped and slipped into the hot bath.

An ancient woman Maja assumed was Nroty appeared at the door and she and the woman had a conversation neither vulcanoid could understand. Some agreement was reached and the woman tossed Maja a robe: "Wear this while she washes your clothes."

Maja slipped quickly out of his clothes and into the robe as Nroty disappeared with both his and Sarek's garments. The woman had watched him undress and liked what she'd seen. She brought out a bottle of wine and poured two glasses. Turning to hand him one, she saw he was by the tub washing Sarek's back.

"How goes it, Sarek?" Maja whispered in Vulcan.

"Better than before, 'Little Jewel'," Sarek informed him. "I believe there is a glass for you over there."

"Yeah, and that's not all either." Maja shook the water off his hands and handed Sarek a towel.

"Where does he sleep?" Maja asked, sipping his wine and enjoying it.

"Over there," she gestured to the bed.

"Thank you," Sarek said, crossing the room. "Good night."

Watching him cross the room, Maja was almost overwhelmed with memory of Spock crossing rooms. Father and son had the same gait indoors Maja now saw. He looked up and found the woman's eyes on him. He smiled weakly and hoped she'd attribute his distraction to shyness, not nostalgia.

"Your turn," she said meaningfully and refilled the tub.

Maja had nothing against women, he just preferred to have sex with men. He'd had sex with one or two women in the Commune just to be certain that he knew what he was missing. Not much, he'd concluded.

He stepped into the tub and the woman applied a soapy, hard bristled brush to his back. He scanned her to see what she wanted and relaxed when he read that she'd do all the work. She preferred it that way.

She unbraided his hair, rubbed some oil into it and secured it in a bun on the top of his head. She pulled his feet out of the tub and scrubbed them. Maja began to enjoy himself in earnest.

She slipped out of her clothes and into the tub, straddling him. Maja caressed her full breasts and ran his long fingers over her back. She tightened her strong thighs on his hips and ground her cunt against his hardening penis. She adjusted her angle, Maja assumed, to better arouse them both.

He held her close and ran his fingers through her thick red hair. He let his mind float and his body respond to the stimulus. He was hard in moments and she sank down to the root, sighing with pleasure.

Maja let her bounce up and down a few times before he got bored. He brought his fingers to her temple and she was still. He looked carefully and thoroughly around her mind. It was a nice mind: honest, hard working, no nonsense, rather lonely but optimistic overall. He probed a little further: her school girl education told him they were in the city of Bikz on the planet Imk in the Nohyar system (wherever that was). Bikz was the major city on this continent and one of many bases for the Tziviian pirates on this planet. Her husband's vehicle had been crushed between two joyriding Tziviians. A painful memory; she had loved him very much. Maja blunted the sharp edges of the memory but did not remove it. He paused to look at the husband: her father's choice, they'd married young, a good man but she'd never pick him for herself knowing what she knew now. He learned that a harag was one solar rotation in this system, how ever long that was. He moved on. The pirates: not much information, they were avoided, a neighbor's pretty daughter had been kidnapped by them, raped and returned pregnant, the child was beautiful but the girl would have nothing to do with it so they gave it to the childless couple on Wezna street and they adored it. Maja sighed mentally and damped down his annoyance with these pedestrian thoughts. Bikz: also avoided, much vice, violence and other nonspecific scary things. She knew of ships traveling offworld but she had never even wanted to go offworld so there was no data there.

Maja gave up. He shifted about in her mind for a good sexual fantasy and let her go. He slowly closed the meld and held her tight as her frantic humping brought them both off. She leaned against him for a moment, breathing hard and shining with pleasure. Maja smiled and let his cock slide out of her. Out of the corner of his eye he noticed Sarek awake and covertly watching them.

The woman poured water over Maja's ebony curls and rubbed a fragrant shampoo into them. She rinsed them with clear water and wrapped them up in a towel. They rose from the tub and sat by the fire, dry and warm, as the woman combed out Maja's silky hair. She combed and fluffed it by the fire until it was dry and then led him to the bed. They crawled in next to Sarek.

"There's only one bed, Sait," Maja whispered to the surprised Vulcan and turned to the woman. He pressed his fingertips to her temple and murmured: "Sleep, Fara, sleep awhile."

Maja turned around and curled up next to Sarek, who surprised him by putting his arms around him.

"I believe you are abusing your gifts, Maja," the Vulcan scolded softly.

"Which ones?" Maja asked sleepily, dodging the issue.

"Your telepathic gifts," Sarek clarified. "You received training on Vulcan that I have seen you use in a promiscuous and unsanitary manner."

Maja was far too tired to react profoundly to this remark, maybe tomorrow.

"Okay, I'll stop," he said, yawning, "I'm sleeping now." And he did, for the first time in days.

Sarek, finding the conversation at an end, dropped off himself. He, too, was very tired.

* * *

I need you.

Kirk's hand stroked McCoy's flank and squeezed the firm flesh of his ass.

I need you.

He thrust his tongue a little further into the doctor's mouth and sighed with pleasure.

And relief. Two hours earlier he'd made the serious miscalculation of telling McCoy that he and Spock had wagered the night with him on the outcome of a chess game. Kirk had won.

McCoy had simply shown him the door and locked it behind him. He then sat, composed a request for transfer and sent it to Captain James T. Kirk of the USS Enterprise.

Kirk (suspecting such an overreaction and compulsively checking his mail until he got it) had immediately commed Spock and almost begged him to talk McCoy out of it.

I need you.

3.17 minutes later Spock, receiving no answer to his hail, overrode McCoy's doorlock and stepped into the room. He clasped his hands behind his back to steady them but he was otherwise the picture of composure.

"Spock, Terrans lock doors for a variety of reasons, but primarily because they do not wish to be disturbed," McCoy said acidly, returning to his perusal of vacant CMO positions in Star Fleet.

"Leonard, I need you."

McCoy put his forehead on the table and closed his eyes. 'The magic words,' he thought miserably.

Spock moved forward to check his vital signs and run his fingers through the thick brown hair. He knelt next to McCoy's chair and turned the blue eyes to his.

"I need you. I need you both. This is a difficult time and I need you." Spock came to the end of his rehearsed appeal.

McCoy put his arms around the Vulcan's neck and pulled him close. He did love him, still loved him as much as when the air in the Galileo had begun to burn and he tried to put that into this hug. He felt Spock relax microscopically. He leaned back and looked into the black eyes.

"Will you please tell him about the bond?" he asked.

Spock paused for a moment and said no.

"Why not?" McCoy snapped. In spite of all his tender feeling for the Vulcan, Spock could still be exasperating.

"It would distress and confuse him," Spock said quietly. "I intend to terminate it on Vulcan; there is no need for him to ever know."

"He's very confused right now," McCoy shot back. "He thinks he's in love with me."

Spock nodded, silently hoping McCoy would veer off the subject on his own.

McCoy unknowingly obliged: "It's not the same with us, Spock, this afternoon you weren't really ... involved."

"The difficulty lies in my mother's reaction to my father's abduction," Spock honestly explained. "As well as my own reaction to it and to the return of the Talljets into my life. I am distracted. It will pass."

McCoy felt like the lowest form of life in the galaxy.

"I'm sorry, Spock," he murmured, "you've got a world of trouble and all I can think about is my hurt feelings. Please forgive me." He tightened his arms around his lover.

Spock patted him and sat in a chair to give his knees a rest: "Will you withdraw your request for transfer?"

"Is that why you're here?" McCoy asked softly.

"Yes. I need you here, with me." 'And Jim,' Spock added to himself.

"Then, yes, I'll withdraw it."

They were silent. Spock was waiting to see if McCoy would spare him the trouble of making the next logical request: that the doctor go to bed with Kirk tonight.

"Why are you throwing me at Jim?" McCoy asked after a longish silence.

"You both enjoy the sexual contact."

"Does he tell you about it?" McCoy asked, surprised.

"No, never," Spock answered.

"Then how do you know?" McCoy was curious.

Spock hesitated, he searched in vain for something to say other than the truth and hoped that a long enough silence would cause the doctor to change the subject. This had worked before but not this time.

"Then how do you know?" McCoy had a suspicion he now wanted confirmed.

"I experience your coupling in the bond."

McCoy stood and walked over to a cabinet where he poured himself a large Klingon brandy. 'I thought so,' he told himself savagely. He slowly sipped the fiery liquor to give himself time to calm down.

"So you watch ..." he began furiously, not looking at the Vulcan.

"I feel," Spock cut him off. "What you feel in your coupling. What you both feel. I," he paused. "Enjoy it."

McCoy took a moment to think about this. It was significant because Spock so very seldom admitted feeling any kind emotional or physical gratification from anything. 'Then he does need us,' he thought resignedly. 'But how can that ever end, even breaking the bond on Vulcan? If he will.'

He felt the Vulcan behind him, very close, and let himself be pulled into the warm, strong arms. McCoy relaxed, surrendered. He'd do what Spock wanted, for now, it was not onerous. He put his glass down, turned and laid his head on Spock's shoulder. He knew what was needed.

"I'll go tell Jim to disregard my transfer request," he said quietly. "Now," he added, "I'll go now," and stepped back from the Vulcan's arms.

"Thank you," Spock said softly.

I need you.

McCoy was welcomed with open arms and swept directly into Kirk's bed. It was sweet between them, McCoy did not deny it and now there was the added spice of knowing Spock was there, too, somehow.

'I've been in space too long,' he thought, wrapping his lips around the head of Kirk's cock. 'This is all making far too much sense.'

* * *

"You could stay here." The woman recalled Maja's tender ministrations to the Sait. She saw it as evidence of a warm heart and good character. "I've got tenants upstairs but I'll ask them to leave and your Sait could live there." She remembered the feel of his silky hair in her hands. "I make a good living but I could use some help." The way his long fingers felt on her breasts. "But you wouldn't have to work too hard, I've got it under control." The way he ran the tip of his tongue around and around and around her clitoris as she'd only fantasized about. "I... I like you. I'd like you to stay with me."

"Oh, Fara," Maja picked up her hand and held it to his cheek so he wouldn't have to look at this woman, who hadn't asked a man for anything in five harags, asking him to stay. And being refused. He tried to remove the desire but it wouldn't budge. It had become firmly rooted partly due to what she thought had happened between them sexually last night. He looked at her with warm eyes and told her honestly that he could not stay with her; that they did not plan to linger on Imk and would go into the city to find transport off it as soon as possible.

She nodded, adjusting to her disappointment.

'Love someone again, Fara, you are so full of love,' Maja prayed. 'Let yourself share it again.'

"What's that on your hands, Maja?" she asked to change the subject.

Maja looked down and told the lie he'd prepared since he'd lost the concealing cream with his cloak: "Just some decorations I had put on when I was younger."

She nodded and offered them more bread and jam. She tried to give them some money but neither of them would take it. She made them some sandwiches and insisted Maja take one of her husband's old coats. Noticing Maja hide his hands in the sleeves, she brought him a pair of black mittens she'd made for her husband. They were a little big but kept his hands warm. Maja took them because he could feel her joy in giving them to him. She walked them to the door and gave them directions into the city. She hailed one of her neighbors and got them a ride to one of the outer gates at least. She might have held Maja longer except a buyer from one of the big mills arrived to buy her floss. They said goodbye and Maja knew he'd never see her again.

'Oh well, this life,' he thought sadly, 'my choices are always either/or, this or that, yes or no. I should be used to it by now but still, I'm not.'

He gently scanned their driver for useful information and came up with nothing.

Their driver left them at a bazaar as close to the gates as he would and roared off, back to the safety of the suburbs.

Maja and Sarek moved slowly through the bazaar. Sarek was examining merchandise and trying to form an idea of this culture. The array of textiles, pottery, foodstuffs and whatnot did not give him much data to work with. It all looked much like what one saw in bazaars in non regulated non Federation planets. The vendors were primarily women. This fact and the floss vendor, incorrectly led him to speculate that this was a matriarchal planet. The truth of Imk, or Bikz at least, was that the Imkian women ran the lesser economy while men held the larger power of transport, labor and heavy production, primarily shipbuilding and raw materials for the Tziviian pirates, who had the real power: brute force. The pirates seldom used it, the Imkians were a highly intelligent, well developed and fairly good natured species that had turned their pirate 'domination' to their own advantage. In learning how to mine and process raw materials as well as build ships for the pirates, they had taken this knowledge and become one of the major spacefaring economies in the quadrant. The pirates came, went and did as they pleased here but they were never stupid enough to destroy what was for them a major port. They had even defended it from their enemies, the Hovra, once or twice. Five hundred years hence it would be one of the jewels of the Federation. But for now, the Imkians walked lightly around the Tziviians and devoted themselves to commerce.

Maja was wondering how they were going to get off this planet at all. He could feel Tziviians nearby and didn't dare let down his shields even to determine where in the city to start looking for transport. For the moment he was content to wander through the bazaar with Sarek and examine merchandise they had no use for.

"What now?" Sarek asked in Patois.

"Don't really know," Maja answered in the same. "I'd like to know where the transports leave from."

"Could we not ask someone?"

"Not here." Maja was wary. "There's something I don't like here..."

He trailed off and they wound deeper and deeper into the city. As they came into a square, Maja saw what had been bothering him. Hanging upside down and beaten to death were two of the guards from the prison transport. He pulled Sarek into a doorway to listen to the knot of pirates discussing the bodies.

"... told us nothing about the invasion before they died. Too bad; that bastard Talljet and the Federation won't get far here. Those fucking Klingons had better stay out of it, too, we'll eat their useless brains for breakfast. There were three little ships come here yesterday - means there's more invaders about. We'll find 'em, we'll find 'em ..."

Maja and Sarek listened carefully, watched the pirates move off and then headed in the opposite direction. They threaded their way through narrow streets, navigating by moving away from the pirate energy when they felt it bump against their shields.

Maja was almost exhausted from shielding. The Talljets were wired up significantly different from the Vulcans in that they never shielded for protection from the thought energy of others, they filtered it and in many ways were nourished by it. When they did shield, it was only for short periods of time and usually not from such powerful and invasive telepaths as the Tziviians.

Feeling but not understanding Maja's distress, Sarek led him as far away from the pirates as possible and sat him on a curb in a deserted residential street. He sat next to Maja and offered him half of one of the sandwiches the woman had given them. Prudence told him to conserve food; this might be a long day.

"You are working too hard, Maja," Sarek said after he'd finished eating.

Maja looked up from his food. He was almost overwhelmed by the half sandwich and had only taken a few bites.

"What?" he asked vaguely.

"You are working too hard at shielding," Sarek told him quietly. "You are fighting the natural state of things, pushing your shields out instead of letting them expand and surround you naturally." He looked into Maja's blank face. "Did you not learn how to do this with the breath at school? I am sure you did."

Maja thought about this for a moment. He had learned something like this at school but had thought it useless since it didn't apply to him. However, he cast his mind back and after taking a quick scan to assure himself there were no Tziviians around, dropped his shields but did not let his telefield expand to its usual fullness. He rested for a moment and centered himself in his breath as he'd been taught on Vulcan. With each calming breath he polarized the outer layer of his natural energy field so it gently repelled the thoughts of others. He allowed a rhythm to develop so that each natural breath he took renewed and sustained the field. He remembered the Vulcans comparing it to good posture, how standing up straight allowed the skeleton to naturally support the flesh. He realized he unthinkingly shielded like this when he worked, so focused he was on following the vision he was creating. He now knew why his brothers complained about it. This, however, was less pleasant. He felt closed and isolated with neither his work nor the flow of thought energy around him. But for now it was necessary. He looked at Sarek and saw a glimmer of approval in the old Vulcan's eyes. It made his heart jump a little but only because Spock, damn him, had his father's eyes.

Seeing that Maja was in better shape, Sarek stood and surveyed the street. For want of a better idea, he decided to continue deeper into the quarter they were in.

part 29

Maja stood and followed him, looking at houses, shops and cafes as they went.

"It's rather pretty here, isn't it?" Maja said looking at the brightly painted houses he would later learn were on the outer rim of the pleasure district. He happily noted a wide variety of well dressed beings here.

He was somewhat relieved to see so many vulcanoids about, whether they be Roms, Xochians, Nzrealians, or whatnot - Sarek and he blended right in. The downside was that if one of these other vulcanoids wanted to engage Sarek in conversation in their supposed native tongue, the Vulcan would have to do some pretty nimble thinking. The three languages Maja knew Sarek had, Vulcan, Standard and Klingonese, were useless, even dangerous, here.

'Well, if that happens, I guess he'll have to stick to Patois and act stupid until they go away,' Maja thought calmly.

They walked on, pausing to look at print media they could not read and listen to broadcasts they could not understand. They shared the last of the water tabs; they saw, unfortunately, no public drinking fountains. Maja wondered if they only existed in the more peaceful suburbs. They came to another bazaar and moved near a pair of traders speaking in Patois.

"... looking for the invaders, can't get his goods off the planet and the whole shipment rotting on the spacedock. The Tziviians are grabbing anyone they think might have come in those three little ships so it's a bad time to try to get offworld. Me, I could care less, I've got enough to keep me busy here for half a harag at least. Not to mention that pretty little RomCheq gyharine to keep me warm at night. My transport is with a Tziviians freighter anyway and this mess will have died away by the time I need to move the merch. Did you see how the price on yovlas jumped when the Tziviians rolled in and laid down the law this morning? I'm glad I have a warehouse full in Sosi and in a few days ..."

Maja looked around him and tried not to be too depressed by this news. He noted the light slanting into late afternoon and began to wonder if they shouldn't have stayed with the redheaded widow.

Sarek was deadpan as usual but was rapidly formulating and rejecting plan after plan. Apparently they were stuck on Imk for a while but what they were to do there, he could not deduce.

As if seeking the peace and beauty of the pretty streets they'd just left, the pair moved back into them. Late afternoon light bathed them in a soft and inviting glow. They paused in a small square to listen to an unseen musician practicing on some kind of stringed instrument.

Maja settled Sarek on a bench and told him to expect the unexpected. He realized that they would need to find a place to sleep and for that they needed money. The MageCheq had also decided he had no pride left and singing in the street was not exactly begging. And even if it was, so what? They still needed money from something. He listened to the string player launch into an old Patois song and began to sing.

'Expect the unexpected indeed, Maja,' Sarek thought ruefully, secretly pleased to hear again one of the most beautiful voices he ever knew. He recalled Maja singing on Vulcan, accompanied by Spock in their home, and how he left his office door ajar to hear him. Maja's voice had even made Spock's mediocre lyre playing sublime. It was a pure, clear voice that went straight through you and suspended time itself.

Hearing such an incredible singer, the musician had come to his window above the cafe to have a look and very much liked what he saw. Others came to their doors and windows to see where such fine music was coming from. Passersby stopped, enchanted, and lingered.

The hardest part for Maja was to look them in the eye and hold out his hand. Nobody refused him and he soon had a fist full of small change. He shoved it into his pockets and launched into another song with the string player. He moved around the circle of listeners, collecting more and more small change.

'What a terrible way to get money,' Maja thought as he moved clockwise through his rapt audience. He suddenly found himself face to face with a little fat humanoid male in a long black jacket offering him a hot drink. Maja thanked him in Patois and took it directly to Sarek. He returned to his singing. Extremely pretty women in second story windows threw down coins wrapped in lace undergarments with their names written on them. Maja blushed and shoved the offerings down into the pockets of the redhead's dead husband's coat.

Still playing for Maja, the musician came down into the cafe, where he conferred with the little fat man in the long black jacket, who was the cafe owner. After a few moments of discussion, the cafe owner walked over to Sarek and engaged him in conversation.

Maja continued to sing and move through the crowd until he found his way blocked by a large humanoid male in a fur coat.

"Gyharine (boy for sale)," he snarled.

Maja stepped back from him and moved off or tried to.

The humanoid moved around in front of him.

"Gyharine," he said, "how much?"

Maja shook his head and moved away again.

The man grabbed his hair and jerked him back: "I said, how much?"

Maja swung round to fight but was gently restrained.

"Not for sale," Sarek dryly informed the man in Patois.

Still holding Maja by his hair, the man stared at Sarek for a moment: "Everything's for sale in Bikz, sait."

"Not him. Not now," Sarek said blandly, never taking his eyes off the being.

The humanoid, deciding he could likely take the gyharine but not the gyharine and the sait both, shook Maja's hair out of his hand, adjusted his fur coat and walked away.

"Come, Maja." Sarek guided him through the crowd to the cafe.

Seeing the show was over, the crowd began to move off. Maja noticed the musician and the man who'd given him the hot drink moving through the dispersing crowd, handing out little cards.

Sarek led him to a table in the cafe where a waitress was putting out plates and pouring hot tea.

"Pretty voice, pretty one," she sighed at him.

"Thank you," Maja said quietly, sipping his tea.

The musician, a tall, lean humanoid, flung himself into a chair next to him and pulled Maja's hand to his lips: "Really amazing voice you have, little one." He continued to hold Maja's hand and look deeply into his eyes. "What songs do you know so I can tell the rest of the band?"

Deeply puzzled, Maja turned his head to look at Sarek, looking at him.

"I have made a trade with the cafe owner, Maja," Sarek informed him. "Dinner, a place to sleep tonight and breakfast tomorrow morning in exchange for an evening's entertainment."

Maja's eyes got big. To him 'an evening's entertainment' was something you got at Ling's whorehouse.

"Singing," the musician, seeing Maja's confusion and wondering at the sait's choice of words, put in. "Just singing."

"Oh," Maja said, sipping more tea. "Okay." He turned to the musician, an UshtazCheq, and told him the names of all the Patois songs he knew. The UshtazCheq disappeared for a moment, returned with some lyrics and began to teach Maja some new songs.

The waitress brought their food and lingered to listen to the music.

"Let them eat, Ovri, let them eat," the cafe owner told him in Patois. "You can teach him some new songs later." He sat to admire Maja. "My name is Vmormi, you caused quite a sensation out there, little one. Let's see if you can do it again tonight."

"Thank you. I'll try," Maja said simply.

"What's your name?" Vmormi asked him.

"Maja," he was told.

Noting Maja's vulcanoid features, Vmormi complained that every third RomCheq in the galaxy was named Maja. "Is that all the name you have?" he asked.

"Well," Maja said slowly as he considered and rejected several aliases. "Some people call me MajaYaja."

"Not bad," Vmormi mused, "easy to remember, too."

Maja merely smiled at him and began to eat the spicy vegetable matter before him.

"Your sait drives a hard bargain but I'm sure you're worth it," Vmormi said with a twinkle. "You're not a gyharine, are you?" he added hopefully.

"No, he is not," Sarek said quietly.

'Not yet,' Maja thought ruefully.

Vmormi and Ovri gave Maja a long look and said, 'ah,' wistfully.

Maja and Sarek fell to eating as they were very hungry by that time.

MajaYaja was a moderate success that night. The magic of the street singer was lost in the dim lights of the cafe, alas. It was a good performance, but not, however, good enough for Vmormi to offer them more food and accommodation.

After a substantial breakfast (the waitress liked Maja's singing very much and was inclined to be generous with Vmormi's food), Maja and Sarek left the cafe and found a quiet bench on which to consider the immediate future.

They counted up their money, which consisted of what Maja had gotten yesterday in the street plus his share of the band's tips, and realized it would not get them very far. The pair wandered the streets again, listening to more Patois gossip about the Tziviians continuing to search for the 'invaders' and not allowing anyone offworld. They heard rumors of another 'invader' that was captured and tortured to death.

To take their minds off this bad news, they window shopped in an effort to gain some understanding of the monetary situation here.

Late that afternoon Maja made a decision he had hoped not to make. He further hoped he'd learned something from Jir and Kroldt about negotiation.

He and Sarek had drifted into the cheaper section of the Pleasure district. The crowd here was rougher but Maja, scanning surreptitiously, found it vastly more interesting. It was full of pimps, whores and gyharines, of course, but also smugglers, thieves and dealers in contraband of all kinds. Even the beggars, street vendors and urchins seemed to be in the know about what was what in Bikz.

"Gyharine."

Maja found his way blocked by a huge vulcanoid male. After a quick scan, Maja nodded.

"How much?"

Sarek began to refuse but Maja silenced him with a wave of his hand.

"Thirty thousand bvojas," Maja said tartly, knowing from his window shopping this was the lower end of the luxury vehicle price range.

"Very funny, pretty one," the vulcanoid snarled. "The max I ever pay is ten bvojas for the night."

"Then go find someone for ten bvojas," Maja snapped and started to turn.

"Twenty."

"Never."

"Fifty."

"Forget it.

"Seventy-five."

"A hundred."

"Eighty."

"Ninety."

"Eighty-five."

"No. Ninety." Maja looked pointedly off into the distance and then back. "No less and you pay for the room and he," jerking his chin at Sarek, "comes with us."

"Done." The vulcanoid grabbed Maja by the elbow and marched him to his room; Sarek following. Once inside, he threw Maja onto the bed and himself on top of him.

Maja, more irritated than alarmed, pulled off a glove and placed his right hand in meld position. The vulcanoid went very still and Maja quickly explored the contents of his mind. And rather interesting they were: even smugglers couldn't get on and off Imk at the moment; the old head of his gang had been killed recently in a knife fight and the new one had yet to be declared; there was a big crystal robbery planned for two or ten days hence - the rumor was that the great Obsta Fira was planning it with his gang but the transport problems were worrying, even for him, and; ninety bvojas was a hell of a lot for a plain little gyharine, pretty brown eyes and a river of black curls down his back notwithstanding, but this one had 'something' and was probably worth it.

"Sleep," Maja said, easing the vulcanoid to the floor and into a deep, deep sleep. He looked around the room and decided the punter was saving money by bringing them to his own room. Maja wondered briefly if he and old Sarek appeared so harmless that the vulcanoid would take such a stupid risk. He looked up at Sarek still standing next to the closed door.

"Are you wise to do this, Maja?" Sarek asked him blandly. "It is distasteful."

Maja sighed. "No, probably not wise," he said after a moment, "and it is distasteful, but I don't know what else to do." Night and the temperature were falling outside. "I think we should stay here tonight, Sait."

"What about him?" Sarek seated himself in the only chair. He was more tired than he wanted Maja to notice.

"He'll sleep until morning at least," Maja said wearily and rose. He looked around the room again; it was clean and neat. He thought back to his perusal of the punter's mind. He recalled that the vulcanoid had been crew with the Iprivian (whoever they were) Merchant Marine and had obviously retained the tidy ways of spacers everywhere. Regra was the vulcanoid's name and he had been in the mean streets of Bikz for three quarters of a harag. He was proud to be a member of the Guara gang, which was, in his opinion, the smartest, toughest gang in the city.

Maja idly pondered these trivial facts as he looked about for some food. He found a half loaf of black bread and some fruit that reminded him of Vulcan pommes. He gave half of the food to Sarek and ate his share standing by the window, watching the darkening street.

'What next, MajaYaja?' he asked himself, knowing he had no answer and trying to keep his spirits up in spite of it. He closed the curtains and lit a lamp. The little room was almost cozy by lamplight, only the huge sleeping Regra stretched out on the floor added a surreal touch to the scene. He stepped over the sleeper and went out into the hall where he learned there was a public bath in the basement of the building and they could afford it.

After making sure Regra would stay asleep in their absence, Maja and Sarek descended to the bath, which was simple, clean and had lots of very hot water and steam. They stretched out on the belly stone and observed the other patrons, all men of various ages and species.

"Gyharine," a youngish humanoid said to Maja. He nodded to Sarek, assuming the older man was his pimp. Why else were they there together?

Maja gestured to the ceiling: "I'm engaged this evening."

"Oh, hochofedra (oh well, too bad for me, good evening)." the humanoid shrugged and returned to his seat.

Maja looked into Sarek's eyes and thought he saw the faintest shadow of amusement there.

"What are you laughing at Sar.. Sait?," Maja murmured.

"Nothing, Maja, nothing," Sarek said quietly, feeling the heat drive out the chill in his legs and enjoying it. "You play your part rather well, that is all."

'Humph' was all Maja had to say to that.

They were silent for a while, listening to the murmur of male voices and enjoying the peace of the place.

"What do the marks on your hands signify, Maja?" Sarek asked him after a few moments. He had also noted that Maja's right shoulder was larger than his left and correctly assumed it was from cutting stone.

"They identify me, my owners and my skills," Maja answered truthfully and fell silent.

Sarek lowered his voice: "Are they Klingon characters? I have never seen such like them."

"They're old Church Klingon runes," Maja whispered, rising to leave. "Most modern Klingons cannot read them either, only clerics and certain laypeople associated with the Commune."

They dressed and returned to the room where Regra slept on peacefully. Maja and Sarek decided to emulate him and curled up in his bed together.

"Were you well treated in the Commune?" Sarek asked quietly.

"Yes, very well treated," Maja said sleepily and dropped off.

'And if we live, will you return to it?' Sarek wondered as he, too, fell asleep.

In the morning Maja took ninety bvojas out of Regra's pocket and spun him a memory of the most beautiful night of love the vulcanoid had ever experienced. They left him smiling in his dream of pleasure that never happened to him.

Outside, they walked through the early morning, workaday streets of Bikz. This district was called Qoz and at this hour it looked almost respectable. Vendors were selling hot drinks and steaming rolls. Produce carts were rushing around to sell their fruit and vegetables to the cafes and bordello cooks. Except for the occasional drunk or corpse, the street seemed like any other street they'd seen so far in Bikz.

They bought two hot ciders and retired to a sheltered spot to plan their day.

Maja divided the money between them.

"Perhaps you should keep it, Maja," Sarek suggested.

"No. It's better for you to have half," Maja said. "If something happens to me you'll need money."

"If something happens to you, Maja, I will need more than money," Sarek told him dryly.

Maja smiled grimly and did something Sarek had only seen him do to Spock when they thought they were unobserved: Maja leaned over and butted Sarek's shoulder with his forehead.

They sat in silence drinking the hot tart drinks and watched the weak sun try to warm up the day.

"Gyharine."

Maja looked up at a brutish humanoid, scanned him and nodded. They negotiated a price, fifty bvojas, and walked off with Sarek in their wake.

Maja looked back and arched an eyebrow at the Vulcan. He didn't like dragging Sarek along on these expeditions but was more afraid of leaving him alone on the street.

The humanoid led them into a shop, behind the counter and into a storage room. He yanked Maja into his arms and then went very still under Maja's Vulcan trained fingers.

Sarek looked away as Maja eased his 'client' to the floor. He turned his attention to the storeroom shelves. They were full of bottles and packages of food or so he assumed from the pictures on the wrappings.

"Sleep a while," Maja cooed as he took fifty Bvojas out of the brute's pocket. He stood and wandered about the room, inspecting its shelves and putting whatever caught his fancy into his pockets.

Sarek looked on impassively. "Shall we go, Maja?" he asked after a moment.

"Not yet," Maja said, offering him a cookie out of the package and eating one himself. "Enough time has to go by so he can believe we did what he thinks we did."

Sarek nodded; it was logical.

Maja handed him twenty-five bvojas and a few minutes later they left the storeroom and the sleeping, smiling humanoid.

By mid afternoon Maja had made enough money to rent them a modest room in the better part of Qoz. That evening, when Maja returned from 'work', they were able to sleep more peacefully knowing they had a roof to call their own for the time being.

* * *

Mr. Yrit and Mr. Gvo found their way into the Tziviian Autonomous Zone impeded by the waves of paranoia radiating throughout it. They guided their ship slowly around the edges of the Sargasso space, feeling either for a passage through the rage or waiting for it to burn itself out. Yrit and Gvo themselves seldom bothered with emotions, especially those like rage, joy, fear, love, awe, or despair. They were a waste of time and weakened their pure vision of the emanations of the universe.

They did not hurry; they never hurried. They were born knowing that there was no such thing as time.

***

part 30

"So we're stuck here until Star Fleet decides what to do with this planet," McCoy concluded, sipping from a glass of very good Rovirin wine.

"Alas," Kirk concurred.

The Enterprise and the Bharata were dry docked in the Talljet's former shipyard. The two ships had been in deep space a long time and upon finding state of the art dry-docks, Admiral Yakolev had ordered the ships down and turned out. Mr. Scott and his engineers were euphoric; they'd been wanting to 'spring clean' for a long long time.

The crews of both ships were housed in the now abandoned Klingon garrison the Commune had built. It was an impressive structure, well designed and beautiful. Set on a gentle slope, the building was a huge high walled rectangle containing a series of smaller squares, each built around courtyards. Each courtyard contained a fountain, which, like the entire garrison, was fed by an underground spring. The site and design had been chosen for maximum defensibility and the ability to withstand siege almost indefinitely. It had lived up to, if not exceeded, its promise during the recent period of Rovirin civil unrest. That the garrison was also heart-stoppingly beautiful was merely due to the fact that that was the only way Gozshedrefreingin Commune knew how to make things.

Kirk would have much preferred to be in space but he didn't mind his sojourn in the elegant apartments he'd been allotted. As long as it didn't go on too long and McCoy was with him, especially at night, he would suffer through it with as much grace as possible. He poured the doctor a little more wine and they watched the sky darken together. Kirk leaned forward and pressed his lips to the back of McCoy's neck.

They were both in dress uniform and waiting for Spock to join them as they were to dine with Admiral Yakolev and Ambassador Sdiz that evening. Kirk had bottomless respect for Yakolev and Sdiz but had not envied their assignment here. Seizing private property, facing down the Klingons and trying to forge an alliance with a hostile, fragmented population was not easy, even for men of Yakolev and Sdiz's caliber. The hostility was such that all the Federation personnel were housed in the garrison and it was hoped that it would not be besieged again.

Spock entered and refused a glass of wine. He picked up the bottle, however, to examine the illustration on the label. It was a pen and ink of the facade of the Klingon cathedral. There was something familiar about the character of the drawing. He did not recognize Master Ghet's rune in the lower left corner. Turning the bottle in his hands he found the Talljet Inc. logo, a ramshackle building set on a hill, on it. The drawing and the logo seemed connected to him but he could not quite fathom how. He dismissed this idle speculation and turned to Kirk.

"I have received a message from T'Pau," he said. "Only two hours ago Vulcan voted against making Rovirin a protectorate. She would like to know the chronology of events as she suspects Star Fleet has acted improperly. I will need your consent to give her that information."

Kirk and McCoy stood silently absorbing this information.

"Two hours?" McCoy said. "That can't be right, Spock, we've been here for days. And Admiral Yakolev ..."

"Speak of the devil, Doctor," Yakolev said entering behind Sdiz. "And he shall appear."

"Captain Kirk," Sdiz said, "if Dr. McCoy will excuse us for a moment, we would like to have a word with you and Commander Spock."

"Doctor," Kirk nodded to his CMO. He gave McCoy one of his subtle 'please let's not fight in front of the company' looks as he did.

"Good evening," McCoy said between clenched teeth and left the room.

"You have received a communication from T'Pau that I wish you to disregard, Spock," Sdiz said simply.

"May I know why, sir?" Spock asked.

Sdiz and Yakolev exchanged looks. Sdiz lowered his eyes; the Vulcan equivalent of a shrug.

"The Fleet needs this planet and badly," Yakolev told him.

"May I know why, sir?" Kirk asked.

"It gives us a strategic position on the edge of Klingon space, right in the middle of their shipping lanes, too. It also gives us a good place to watch the pirates, especially the Tossarians, their Autonomous Zone is between here and Romulan space," Yakolev told him. "We need it."

"Enough to act without a Council mandate, sir?" Spock asked.

Kirk gave his first officer a sharp look but noted that Yakolev was not offended by the question.

"The Fleet had the Interplanetary Ministry's blessing. Had the Council vote gone against making Rovirin a protectorate, a military action would have been declared to the same effect," Yakolev answered blandly.

"Your father's abduction was unfortunate and fortuitous all at once, Commander. The Fleet's wanted a toehold in this space for a long time. We aren't about to let it slip away now."

"Why does the Fleet want this planet so badly?" Kirk asked quietly, wondering if that was why Sarek and his staff were so poorly protected out here.

"As I've said, it stands in a strategic position between Romulan, Klingon and Federation space," Yakolev told him. "And it's rich in dilithium crystals and water. Something the Fleet can always use more of."

"And if the Klingons had been willing to fight?" Kirk asked.

"Even better. We take and keep more territory in a little war, Kirk," Yakolev answered smoothly. "You know that."

They fell silent for a moment.

"Spock, you must ignore T'Pau's request," Sdiz said. "This is not the time for Vulcan to interfere."

"I respect T'Pau's judgement, sir," Spock said. "I . . ."

"I rather wonder if T'Pau's judgement has become somewhat impaired over the past year or so," Sdiz cut in, looking Spock in the eyes. "I understand certain voices have been raised on Vulcan requesting she step down from her position of authority there for this reason."

"She is greatly respected in the Federation as well," Spock said, defending the head of his family and for the first time regretting not putting the privacy seal on his wedding.

"Yes, I have heard this, too, Commander," Sdiz said smoothly. "However, if T'Pau truly wished to mold Federation policy, she should have accepted the seat on the Council the second or third time it was offered to her."

Spock, finding nothing further to say on the subject, simply said, "Yes, sir," and clasped his hands behind his back.

"I have informed T'Pau that the information she requests is classified at Level Five and therefore unavailable to her," Sdiz told him.

Spock nodded and wondered how long a Level Five would stop T'Pau. Not long, he concluded.

"This conversation stays in this room, gentlemen," Yakolev said solemnly to Kirk and Spock. "It's only out of respect for you both that we've had it at all."

Kirk nodded, still puzzled that Star Fleet and the Interplanetary Ministry would risk even a small war with the Klingons, but knowing he'd get no more answers tonight.

"Then let us dine," Sdiz said and turned to the door.

The humans and Spock silently followed him.

* * *

In the weeks that followed, the temperature in Bikz dropped with winter's approach and Maja became a very expensive, very popular gyharine. He and Sarek moved to larger, warmer quarters not far from Vmormi's cafe where, at Ovri and the band's demand, MajaYaja sang now and then. Maja did not mind, he liked to sing, he liked Ovri and the band and the cafe was a good place to pick up clients, although by now, his clients were making appointments weeks in advance, so great had his reputation become.

The situation remained the same on Imk, the Tziviians were still looking for the invaders that came in the little ships and were watching the port like cats at a mousehole. Furthermore, the Tziviians were in a frenzy about a supposed invasion and so they and their new allies, the Hovra pirates, were carefully patrolling their Autonomous Zone, including searching whatever ships took their fancy. Maja had gleaned quite a lot of information from his clients and none of it did him or Sarek any good. Even if they could get on a ship they were likely to be discovered. Also, because of the rabid anti-Federation and anti-Klingon sentiment afoot, there were no ships heading in those directions. This being the case, he and Sarek had decided to stick with the devil they already knew. So, they were stuck on Imk, in Bikz for a while yet and that was that.

Maja seldom had the leisure to wonder what Sarek thought about all this. He was too busy looking for a way off Imk and back to his brothers or the Federation, even Klingon would do at this point. Any of those three could get Sarek home again and that had become the driving force in his life at the moment. Maja refused to examine why this was so, he knew it was illogical, possibly insane but there it was and there it stayed.

Sarek, on the other hand, spent some time wondering why Maja was so intent on his welfare. The half Mage had risked everything and was now debasing himself, however gainfully, on Sarek's behalf. Although Sarek no longer witnessed Maja's promiscuous melding with whomever had his price and/or something interesting in his head, he was still disturbed by the fact that it occurred. The Vulcan would have liked to have contributed some money to their household but he was at a loss as to what he could do. He was therefore rather pleased when he ran into one of Maja's clients, Obsta Fira, on Vcrisa street, who gave him a thousand bvojas.

"This is a thanks for that conversation we had a few days ago about certain streets in the Xvo district, Sait," Obsta said in Patois, over hot drinks in a cafe. "You did a lot to clarify my thinking on it. I'm much obliged to you, sir," he told him with a gracious nod.

Obsta Fira was a well educated, genteel, handsome vulcanoid NzrealiCheq. Born and bred in a wealthy and powerful family on Nzrealia, he'd tossed over respectability for a life of thrill seeking and then the ultimate thrill - crime. He was brilliant; brilliant enough to spot the genius in Sarek, now known as Sait. The conversation he alluded to was about the most logical way in, out and through a certain area, at a certain time. Sarek had been very helpful indeed in his observations, however, he did not know until then his input had made a minor (for Obsta) robbery successful.

Sarek had actually enjoyed his conversation with Obsta Fira as much as he enjoyed anything. The NzrealiCheq was interesting to talk to, he'd traveled quite a bit in this system, and was quite logical. They had several conversations over meals or drinks, but this was the first time Sarek had received any money from him. For something Sarek had done, that is - Obsta had insisted on paying Sarek directly for his one afternoon with Maja.

That had been an odd afternoon for Maja. Obsta had bullied Maja's client into giving his appointment to him and then he'd only taken Maja to sit in a very public park for an hour before escorting him home without laying a finger on him. As a permanent resident of the Sargasso space, the NzrealiCheq was naturally very well shielded, so Maja was unable to get any information from him without direct physical contact. Although neither species know it, the Nzeralians have much in common with the Vulcans, including strong defenses against thought energy and a serious respect, bordering obsession, for logic. Obsta had then insisted on paying Sarek directly and introducing himself. And finally, the oddest thing was that he invited them both to tea at the Hotel Jnneneria. Maja, disgusted, didn't stay with them very long, he picked up a rich trader and disappeared with him. He was not missed; Sarek and Obsta proceeded to have a very logical conversation.

"Will you be at Nvra-miq's party tonight, Sait?" Obsta asked him, paying the waiter and holding Sarek's coat for him.

"I do not know. I would prefer to attend it with Maja, but if he is working, perhaps I will stay home."

"It will be quite a scene tonight." Obsta looked pleased. Nvra-miq was in import-export (drugs and weapons) and pleasure products (whores). He and his merch. were stuck on Imk and so in the true capitalistic spirit he'd simply set up shop with what he had and proceeded to make a killing. He was, however, bored to death in Bikz and livened things up by throwing huge wild parties. The one Obsta referred to was to be held at the Bikz botanical garden's ballroom and all of the underworld elite were invited. Maja and Sarek were included because Maja had so impressed the decadent Nvra-miq, the scoundrel had even proposed marriage. He was politely but firmly refused. "However, you might not enjoy it," Obsta continued, "so if I don't see you there, perhaps I'll nip round and we can have a drink and a chat at your place this evening. If Maja is out," he added knowing that Maja, who wondered what the NzrealiCheq was really after, made no secret of his distrust and dislike of Obsta.

"That would be pleasant, Obsta," Sarek said. "If Maja is out," he added, acknowledging Maja's negative and incomprehensible attitude toward Obsta. They parted company at Bzod street and Sarek, a thousand bvojas richer, made his way home in the deepening twilight.

Maja was home taking a bath between clients. A bath for Maja was as much theater as hygiene. He had candles, incense, a glass of wine, snacks, a good book to read and inspiring music as well as really hot water, exotic bath salts and sponges and brushes of all shapes and sizes.

Sarek had grown used to this hedonism in Maja and accepted it in an offhand fashion. He walked into the bathroom and stood over the very relaxed half Mage. He noted again that Maja's right shoulder was larger than his left.

"Maja, I wish you to accompany me to Nvra-miq's party tonight." Sarek looked calmly down at him.

"I have a client tonight and we need the money." Maja lolled in his blue scented water.

Sarek merely dropped each of the ten one hundred bvoja coins onto Maja's chest without a word.

"Where did you get this?" Maja wanted to know, neatly stacking the loot on the edge of the tub.

"I gave Obsta Fira some advice and he paid me for it," Sarek said blandly. "Now, cancel your appointment and we will go."

"I don't trust that Obsta Fira creature any further than I can throw him."

"Yes. I know. What is for dinner?"

"Mvolva and xzer."

Sarek nodded and turned to leave.

"Hey, take your loot," Maja called.

"It is our loot, Maja." Sarek picked up half of the coins.

"Tell me again what you did for our money, please."

Sarek told him the entire conversation and watched Maja's eyes get very big.

"Sarek, have you gone mad? You've just helped plan a robbery."

"Indeed," Sarek said blandly as he left the room.

Maja blew out the candles and scrambled out of the tub. He pulled a robe around himself and found Sarek in the kitchen, stirring the grains and vegetables.

"Sarek, this worries me."

"What worries you, Maja?"

"Your association with Obsta Fira," Maja said, irritated that he had to be so precise. It reminded him of being a school boy on Vulcan.

"Indeed." Sarek put the lid on the pot and the subject.

Maja was undeterred. "I think he can get you in a lot of trouble, that's all."

Sarek was silent, not wishing to pursue the subject. On his walk home he had evaluated the risks and found them minimal. Police enforcement was nonexistent in Bikz, robbers and other miscreants were usually killed by their intended victims. Sarek concluded that as long as he stayed in the background of Obsta Fira's operations he was in no more danger than usual in this city. Statistically, he was in more danger of being killed in a vehicle accident than due to his association with Obsta Fira. Sarek considered Maja's line of work much more dangerous than his.

"Will you cancel your appointment?" Sarek asked, changing the subject.

Maja frowned. "Yes, he's not very interesting anyway," he said and crossed to the comm unit. 'It would be nice to spend the evening with Sarek, if that's what he wants,' Maja thought.

Sarek set the table and they sat down to a leisurely dinner for a change.

A few hours later Maja put on a dark blue gown trimmed with pale fur at the neck, wrists and hem. It was becoming and kept him warm in the Bikz winter. Although he had mostly remained a vegetarian since leaving Vulcan he had developed a fondness for rich furs and hides.

Sarek had no furs but he was warm enough in a heavy black suit cut on simple and elegant lines. He had become something of a trend setter and role model in pimp fashion due to Maja's success and was widely emulated. For many years to come, pimps in this system dressed very much like Federation diplomats from Vulcan.

They hailed a taxi and were dropped off at the good natured riot that was Nvra-miq's party in the botanical gardens.

The vulcanoids made their way through the throng and into the warmth of the brightly lit ballroom.

Maja returned several clients' waves and refused to dance in order to stick close to Sarek. Social events in their milieu could be as dangerous as criminal ones. They moved among the festive crowd watching the dancers and poseurs.

Avara, Nvra-miq's madam, thrust two glasses of wine at them and tilted her head in her master's direction.

"Nvra-miq says anything you two want, just ask." She gave Maja a long look. "Anything at all, pretty one."

Maja thanked her and watched her sashay back into the crowd. He looked up to see what Sarek was making of all this but found the Vulcan's face unreadable.

The room was packed and the band was loud so they moved closer to one of the doors leading onto a patio. Nvra-miq had gone to the trouble of putting heaters around the building so it was warm enough for them to move onto the patio itself. They strolled about it, looking in at the throng and enjoying the fresher air.

They settled on a peaceful stone bench in a secluded part of the patio. Maja marveled that the whores weren't entertaining here. If he were not here with Sarek that's what he'd have done.

"I'm glad we came here, Sait," Maja said quietly. "Being here with you is far superior to my appointment."

Sarek nodded graciously. He looked into Maja's brown eyes and asked the question that was still on his mind: "Why did you rescue me, Maja?"

Maja hesitated but could no longer keep the truth from flying out of his mouth: "Because I can't look at you and not see your son."

They were silent. Sarek contemplating what debt he might or might not indirectly owe his son. Maja, humiliated by his own hopeless, unwanted, unreturned love that should have died a long time ago and didn't. They gazed quietly at each other, trapped on this strange planet, masquerading as sait and gyharine, finding each moment precious because it might be their last. Finding each other precious because, well, because there were no social codes, matriarchs, history, class, logic or anything in the cosmos to keep them from seeing how very fine and good the other was.

Sarek raised his hand and brushed away the tear on Maja's silky cheek. He put his arm around the half Mage and patted him comfortingly.

Maja pulled himself together and looked at the Vulcan: "Kinda a stupid reason, hey?"

"Then I have developed a new appreciation for stupid reasons," Sarek informed him and added, "hey," awkwardly.

Maja smiled and laid his head back on Sarek's shoulder since the Vulcan seemed content to let him do so. Maja had only had a lot of exotic mindfucking since setting up shop in Bikz so he was starved for the simple, nonsexual, physical contact with someone he liked. Maja's thoughts grew more of Sarek and less of Spock as he rested his head on the Vulcan's shoulder.

Sharply accented but lyrical music jerked across the ballroom floor and reached them on the patio. There was something very familiar about it and they looked at each other, puzzling over it, giving it their full attention.

Sarek looked into the ballroom with interest: "Maja, what is this music?"

"I don't exactly know but the dance looks like a Klingon Shakaar."

"Is it? I was just noticing its resemblance to an Imman," Sarek whispered. "The hands are different but the pattern in the feet is very similar." He looked down at Maja watching the dancers. "Shall we try it?"

Maja was taken aback: "Oh, can you dance like that?" he asked, sounding stupid to his own ears.

"Not exactly like that, but certainly a decent imitation of it," Sarek told him with the tiniest twinkle of amusement. He rose and drew Maja to standing. "I am taller so I will lead, if you do not mind."

Maja shook his head and held out his hands, which Sarek twisted up behind his partner's back in Shakaar style. This glued them together from the waist down and even closer when Sarek, innovating already, crossed his own wrists over Maja's back and took Maja's right hand in his own right hand and left in his own left. Maja leaned back slightly and bowed his head submissively, looking up at his partner from under lowered jet lashes, in classic Shakaar style but with something else in it, too.

Although he didn't get much practice dancing Immans or anything else, Sarek was really an excellent dancer and swept Maja along as if they were one being.

Maja smiled with shy delight and surrendered to Sarek's lead with pleasure.

They glided around the patio and then into the ballroom where their chic appearance was greeted with sighs of appreciation. The dance floor thinned to watch and give them more room. The vid cameras spun them onto their permanent record. Criminal conversations were suspended for watching such dancing, including the one in progress between Obsta Fira and his host, Nvra-miq. Obsta sent one of his runners to get a copy of the vid from one of the vidders.

Maja and Sarek were completely oblivious to everything except each other. This, too, was in classic Shakaar style but they were oblivious to that as well.

As all things end, so ended their dance. They danced two more and then headed for home through the dark, wintry streets of Bikz.

Maja watched the city go by from the taxi window and leaned into Sarek's arm, which was still around him. It seemed so natural to be in the Vulcan's arm he hardly noticed it. Neither did Sarek, watching Maja more than the streets. They were suspended in their intimate isolation and slightly jolted when the taxi halted before their building.

PART THIRTY ONE

Upon entering, Maja adjusted the lights to low and tossed his wrap on the couch. He turned to look at Sarek, standing by the door, watching him.

Sarek simply crossed the small distance between them and pulled Maja into his arms. He lowered his lips to the half Mage's and kissed him with a passion and sweetness he never realized were in him.

Maja put his arms around the Vulcan's neck and let Sarek's tongue explore his mouth. He let go of fear, prudence, anger, the past, the future, right, wrong, and everything except that he loved only Sarek the Vulcan with all his mind and soul.

Maja's sense of propriety briefly flopped back to life and he broke the kiss: "This is madness, Sarek."

"It is." Sarek stated and pulled him back into the kiss. /... this is beyond my understanding and if that is madness then I welcome it/

/... I, too, welcome it with all my heart, my love/

Sarek held him close and guided them into their bedroom. He undid the closure at the back of Maja's gown and slid the rich fabric and furs off the nonsymmetric shoulders. He leaned forward and smoothed his lips over the right one, noting the strength beneath the soft alabaster flesh. He ran his warm hands down Maja's soft back and clasped his firm round ass, pulling them tightly together. He was gently aroused and ready to be more so, much more so.

Maja simply clung to him, whatever finesse he'd developed over the years with various men evaporated and he clung to Sarek as if he were his only hope in life. Perhaps, by then, he was Maja's only hope, the only thing he cared about at all. He roused himself to unbutton Sarek's shirt and run his fingers through the thick jet pelt there. He eased off the coat and shirt, slightly delayed by Sarek undoing his cuffs behind Maja's bare back, and tossed them on the floor. Maja rubbed his smooth chest against the furry Vulcan one and dropped his hands to Sarek's belt. He struggled with the buckle and the closure, finally freeing Sarek's impressive erection. He stroked it and pressed his own along it.

Sarek gentled Maja down on the bed and quickly dispensed with the remainder of their clothing. He slipped in next to the half Mage and pulled him close.

/Maja Maja/

The Vulcan rolled on top of Maja and pressed a kiss onto his mouth. His breath caught as Maja spread his legs and drew them up. Sarek held him close and still as he brought himself under control. He rolled Maja forward, looking into Maja's eyes and slipped the head of his cock inside him. He waited for Maja to calm down before proceeding.

At the first gentle thrust inside, Maja had arched against the waves of pleasure that roared up and down his body and momentarily deafened him. He sensed Sarek waiting for him to return to this plane and dutifully did so. He reached up to kiss the Vulcan and urge him in deeper.

Gently moving forward into the sweet tightness Sarek sighed with relief as he achieved full penetration. He rested a moment, collecting himself for the next action. He was unsure what he would find when he reached up and placed his fingers in meld position on Maja's temple.

There was a moment of resistance from the half Mage, as if he would not be so naked in front of his lover, and then surrender. With a sigh, Maja let all the gentle love in his soul flow between them through the link and twine with the pure strength and truth that was Sarek. They became an edifice of their essence, as joined in spirit as in body. They began to move together, drawing their pleasure higher into the structure of their beings.

Sarek was silent in his climax as usual but he heard Maja, thrashing against him, cry out his name and no other in that moment. The Vulcan's last thought before tumbling into the abyss of sleep was that he was pleased, very pleased.

* * *

Sarek walked briskly through the winter streets on his way home from dinner with Obsta Fira. It had been an extremely interesting conversation, one of the many in the weeks since Nvra-miq's party. It was an odd line of work for the Vulcan, merely pointing out the illogical aspects of plans. It was simple and gave him something profitable to do. Money kept Maja home more and having Maja home had become important to him.

Not that the half Mage had given up prostitution entirely. Now he only took clients that might have or know a way off Imk and back to their previous lives.

But even that was not as important to Sarek as it had been prior to becoming Maja's lover. The Vulcan found this odd and disconcerting when he thought about it so he refused to think about it.

Sarek quickened his pace, knowing that Maja was home, waiting for him. He could not recall when he had longed for such proximity to another.

It was full dark when Sarek let himself into the house and took the stairs two at a time.

"Maja," Sarek nodded, walking up to the steaming bathtub and looking down at the steaming half Mage.

"Indeed; c'mon in." Maja watched the Vulcan undress and moved aside to let him climb in the tub. He found himself gathered up on strong arms and kissed hard. The MageCheq wrapped his long legs around Sarek's waist and lightly teased his erection against the Vulcan's.

Sarek, never one to be teased, ran one hand down Maja's back and ground them together. Lowering both hands he cupped Maja's fine ass and urged him a little higher.

Maja tightened his arms around his lover's neck and angled the entrance to his body over Sarek's cock. He let himself down slowly, resisting Sarek's urging and pointing out the similarity in their strengths as he did so.

Sarek surrendered and let Maja take him in at his own pace. It was pleasant and he leaned back to enjoy it.

Feeling Sarek's balls against his ass, Maja paused, shuddering, to enjoy feeling the hard Vulcan cock inside him. He looked into Sarek's impassive face where he'd learned to detect the subtle signs of pleasure as being hooded eyes and a microscopic tightening of the lips. Wanting those eyes to open, Maja reached down and tweaked the Vulcan's jade nipples really hard. The black eyes flew open and Sarek sat up, sloshing hot water around them.

"Oh," Maja deadpanned, "did I wake you, Sait?"

"Hardly, Maja," Sarek informed him. "If you are going to be playful, perhaps we should retire to the bed where it is possible for me to obtain a better angle of penetration."

"You mean so you can hold me down and fuck me how you like," Maja told him bluntly. "I know, I like that, too." He began to slide sinuously up and down Sarek's cock. "But at just this moment I ... like ... this ... better ..." Maja grew incoherent from the pleasure this angle afforded him.

Sarek, lips growing tighter and tighter, let his head fall back but kept his eyes open and on his lover. Watching and listening to Maja bringing them both to climax was a great aesthetic and sensual pleasure to him.

Maja's thrusts became short and erratic as he tipped them both over the edge.

Sarek held him as he shuddered in the aftershocks of his powerful orgasm. The Vulcan noted again that the half Mage did not ejaculate and recalled asking him about that on the first morning. He'd been told that it was Maja's Magidrian biology at work, that even half Mages only make sperm when they're breeding. 'So much more tidy,' Maja had informed him. Sarek could not but agree with him.

Maja leaned back in the cooling water and let Sarek's nearly soft cock slip out of him. He turned on the hot water and moved around behind the Vulcan, soaping a hard brush. He worked the brush over his broad shoulders and down his arms.

"How's your pal, Obsta Fira?" Maja asked him deadpan.

"Obsta Fira is not my pal," Sarek informed him. "He is an acquaintance and he is well."

"Oh." Maja scrubbed lower. "I'd really rather you weren't so involved with him, Sarek, it makes me nervous."

"I know."

Maja waited in vain for more.

"So, you know and you continue to allow me to be nervous about something that is in your power to stop."

"Yes."

"Do you want me to be nervous?"

"No."

Maja scrubbed a little harder.

"Then stop," the half Mage finally said, "stop working with him."

"Maja, we have this conversation far too often," Sarek said firmly. "I do not feel that I am in danger and your nervousness is unwarranted in this situation. I do not believe your nervousness is harming you as much as you would have me believe and that you can overcome it simply by trusting that I am able to take care of myself in my dealings with Obsta Fira." Sarek silently thanked what all the years of Human and Klingon interaction had taught him about dealing with emotional beings. Be that as it may, Maja, on this subject, was a trial to even Sarek's enormous patience.

Maja sighed and decided to shut up; he knew his Fira phobia was annoying Sarek.

"I learned something interesting today," Maja said, changing the subject. "The pirates are letting certain ships dock and certain ships leave. No one knows how it's decided but it's good news, isn't it?" He fell silent, wondering if it was good news. They did want to get out of here, didn't they? He moved in front of Sarek and looked into his unreadable face. Shrugging, he lifted the elegant Vulcan feet and thoroughly scrubbed each one.

Noting Sarek's deepening abstraction, Maja carefully worked his brush up to see if the Vulcan was aroused. Sometimes Sarek clicked off just before making his move but Maja found only a flaccid penis and flat nipples.

'Well, what's all this, then?' Maja listened to his mind for a moment but didn't hear Sarek rustling around in there so the Vulcan was very still indeed.

"Hey," he said, climbing on top of Sarek again, "you!" He leaned down and rigorously rubbed noses with the Vulcan, who pulled him into a fierce kiss, the usual retribution for such an outrage.

"Now, Maja," Sarek said, breaking the kiss. "Have you finished bathing? If so, I would like some tea." He blew out the candles and pulled the drain plug. He stood, bringing Maja to his feet with him.

"And if I'm not finished bathing?" Maja asked as Sarek hauled him over the side of the tub.

"I rather think you are finished, Maja," Sarek said wrapping a towel around his lover. "What kind of tea do you want?"

"Moshdra," Maja said. It was the closest thing to Relan they could find here. He dutifully followed Sarek into the kitchen and watched him make tea. "Let's go sit in bed and drink it." Maja suggested rather too innocently.

"I prefer to sit on the couch, Maja, if you do not mind," Sarek said dryly. He wanted to talk seriously to the half Mage and knew that would not happen if they went to 'sit in bed' as Maja suggested.

They carried their cups to the couch and Maja snuggled under Sarek's arm. This was, for them, a workable compromise to 'sitting in bed.' They craved closeness like a drug.

They sat sipping their tea in silence, listening to the quiet and centered in the link. Originally they had shielded against everything except each other in defense of the Tziviians but now it was because they enjoyed the privacy.

"Maja, do you have second sight?" Sarek asked out of the blue.

Maja did not spill his tea but was surprised by the question. "Sometimes," he answered warily.

Sarek tightened his arm a little. "I do not mean to frighten you, Maja," he said gently. "I ask because there have been rumors about Ling and his investments and there were times in the prison ship when you seemed to have a strange foreknowledge."

Maja debated, this was the one thing he and his brothers never never discussed outside of themselves -it was too dangerous. But this was Sarek and he felt closer to this being than he'd felt to anyone, except his brothers and sometimes with Spock.

"Sometimes," Maja said slowly. "I can know what will happen if I stay on a particular path but not if I do something different."

"Did you know we would be here, like this?" Sarek asked.

"No, but I knew we would live," Maja said. 'How can you foresee this kind of love? A year ago I could not have even imagined it. I'd have refused to believe it existed, I ...'

"What are you thinking about?" Sarek broke into his whirling thoughts.

"That I love you more than I have ever loved anyone or anything in my life," Maja told him bravely. "And I don't know what's going to happen and I don't care as long as I can stay with you."

Sarek exhaled. "That is my own conclusion, Maja, I wish to stay with you. Now, Maja," Sarek said, restraining the half Mage from rising up and kissing him. "We must have a serious conversation . . "

"Later."

"Now." Sarek pinned him firmly to his side. "There; better; be still and listen to me."

Maja pulled himself back under control and Sarek continued: "Let us remain together since it suits both of us. How we are to do that, we must explore in the next few days. I would prefer not to remain in this city or on this planet. In fact, I would like to leave this system altogether as I find this space disturbing and, over time, debilitating. I look to you for suggestions as to where and how we might live in peaceful anonymity and how we are to get there." He paused and looked down at Maja.

"You love me," Maja intoned as if in prayer.

"Maja, have you heard a word I have said?" Sarek asked.

"You love me."

"I am attempting to construct some idea of the future for us, Maja, and you ..."

"You love me."

Sarek paused to give that some thought, 'you love me,' 'I love you,' 'we love each other.' It was like the Patois - words that were always gibberish now seemed to be old familiar and very welcome friends. He looked down into Maja's warm, glowing eyes.

"I love you," he said simply and marveled at how easy it was to say.

Maja closed his eyes for fear his soul would fly out of them. "And I you, Sarek, and I you." He shook himself and sat up straight. "And we'll have to do some first class thinking if we're to find a way to stay alive, well and together because if we stay on the path we've been on so far, I see you returning to the Federation, alone."

"And so?" Sarek asked.

"And so I agree with you about getting out of this space, I'm not enjoying it either and worry about the longterm effects of being psychically besieged over a long period. How to get out? That's a problem. As I said, the Tziviians are letting a small number of ships come and go ..."

"Did you work this afternoon, Maja? I have asked you not ..." Sarek began sternly.

"No, no, it's perfectly innocent. I overheard two traders and then two more in the bazaar." Maja paused to watch Sarek's features soften again. "So we might start looking for a ride somewhere. We've got the Patois so we can really go anywhere."

"Anywhere outside of the Federation or the Klingon Empire. I worry, Maja, that someone will see your hands and understand the marks. Are you not precious to the Klingons? Would they not send someone to look for you? Are there not slave hunters or whatnot in the galaxy that would take you back there for a reward?"

"Or sell me to someone else," Maja put in. "Yes, there are bounty hunters all over non-aligned space but I doubt any non-Klingon would ever take the trouble to learn what these marks mean. And I doubt the Klingons would go to the trouble and expense of sending a hunter after me. I was not that precious." He smiled up at Sarek's dubious look. "And even if someone followed the prison transport, they must believe we're dead now as I think the prison ship was destroyed. So ..." he trailed off, thinking of the prior life he was tossing away without a hint of regret. No regret? Well, no, not really. "Oh, but don't worry," Maja said brightly. "It's a big galaxy, plenty of room for everyone, Sarek, even us."

"I shall endeavor to remember that, my Maja," Sarek said.

'My Maja.' Time without number Spock had called him that. Maja froze a little but Sarek didn't see it.

"We will find a way, Sarek," he said bravely. "With the port opening again, we'll find a ship and leave this space forever."

"Indeed, Maja, indeed."

* * *

"Cargo?" the Tziviian customs agent asked over the freq.

"Sssavrasss mineralssssss and dried ssssarissso root."

"Time on the surface?"

"Lesssss than sssssseventy hoursssssss."

"You are authorized to beam down. You must either be in dry-dock or leave orbit before ninety hours have elapsed or we burn your ship out of the sky."

"Yessssss ... undersssssstood..."

* * *

/...yessssss ... yessssssss ... here, right here...../

Maja woke from a nightmare gasping for air and clawing helplessly at nothing.

"Maja, Maja," Sarek soothed him into his arms. "Shhhh, my Maja, it is just a dream, just a dream, you are here, safe with me, just a dream."

Maja brought his breath back under control and eventually stopped shaking.

"What ever did you dream?" Sarek asked. Not being of a dreaming species himself, he was familiar with it in others.

"I... I couldn't breathe, I was suffocating in something black and damp." He broke off, shuddering.

"It is all right, Maja," Sarek comforted. "Here, rest a moment, I will get you a drink of water." He rose and went to the kitchen. He looked out the front windows and thought he saw a shadow moving off. An illogical chill ran up his spine. He handed Maja his water and picked up the comm unit.

" ... ullo...?" Obsta Fira had been sound asleep.

"Obsta, I apologize for waking you..." Sarek began.

"SAIT, WHAT'S WRONG?" Obsta Fira was suddenly wide awake.

"I believe there is a threat to Maja and myself in the square below our rooms and I was wondering if you could help us get to safety."

Sarek could hear Obsta yelling for his gang to FUCKING WAKE UP! and get the car in front.

"Sit tight, I'll be there in a flash," Obsta said switching off.

Without a word, Maja reached into the closet and pulled out a phaser pistol along with some clothes for both of them.

A few minutes later, they heard a car pull up out front and someone bounding up the stairs.

Sarek walked calmly to open it but Maja gently pushed him aside, pistol cocked.

"I'll get it, dear," he whispered.

Maja let his shields down just enough to know it was Obsta Fira and two men and ... something else out there. He didn't open the door until he heard/felt Obsta running up to it and the other something "flowing" away from it. He opened to Obsta's knock, scanning the hallway. Obsta entered as his men took up positions outside the door.

"Are you all right, Sait?" Obsta asked.

"Yes, so far," Sarek answered distractedly, he had been watching the square trying to ascertain ... something. An elusive sensation; perhaps he was just responding to Maja's nightmare.

"Let's go," Obsta said shuddering. He had not at all liked the vibe around Sait's front door. "Maja, grab some stuff and let's go to my place."

Maja shoved the pistol in his coat and they hurried down to Obsta's car and away into the night.

* * *

/...Ssssssarek ... well shielded..../

/...trail... Masssster Ghet ... follow ... follow .../

part 32

"There was something really scary outside your door last night, Sait," Obsta told him, ignoring Maja, over a sumptuous breakfast the next morning.

Maja gave the NzrealiCheq a sharp look and wondered if Sarek had felt anything through his shields. Maja would have bet money that he didn't so he was surprised when Sarek said he had felt it.

"And you were just going to open the door anyway?" Maja blurted and then blushed at his own rudeness.

"I did not consider it anything beyond my capabilities, Maja," Sarek told him blandly, gazing at the agitated half Mage over his sautéed tubers and toast. The Vulcan had been concerned as to how rude Maja was going to be to Obsta but Maja had mostly retreated into a fretful silence.

"Then there must be more to you than I reckoned, Sait, because I was scared to little iddy bits," Obsta told him, rescuing but still ignoring Maja. "By the way, sir, where did Maja get that gigantic phaser pistol? It's bigger than he is."

Sarek was sure Obsta's demeanor toward Maja was irritating the half Mage. "Ask him," he said, "I had never seen it before last night."

They both turned their attention to Maja, who was very irritated indeed, and waited for him to answer, which he didn't until Sarek asked him a direct, but polite, question.

"I traded a guy for it. It and lessons how to use it," Maja told Sarek, ignoring Obsta.

"Musta been some trade," the NzrealiCheq murmured suggestively.

It required all the self control instilled in Maja by his genteel Vulcan education and a stern look from Sarek for the MageCheq not to throw his glass of olbla juice into their host's face. He clenched his teeth instead, pushed his plate away and rose: "Excuse me. I have a client this afternoon," he told them.

Sarek caught his hand and looked up into Maja's face: "I would prefer you stay in my sight, Maja."

"It's the captain of one of those racing yachts that's here for the meet."

"I do not care who it is," Sarek said softly and quashed the incipient rebellion with a look.

"All right," the MageCheq said at last, sulking.

"Do not pout, Maja."

"I'm not pouting, Sait; children pout. I'm an adult; adults sulk," Maja clarified.

"I see." The barest twinkle of amusement flared in the depths of Sarek's eyes.

'Ah, Sarek, what did I ever see in your son that was not you?' Maja wondered but said: "D'you think Obsta Fira will let me use his comm to call the punter?"

"Ask him, Maja." Sarek sighed, closed his eyes and dearly hoped they would not be Obsta's guests for a great length of time.

* * *

/ ... many guardsssss.../

/ ... difficult... we wait.../

* * *

"If you're bored, baby, I'll give you a tumble."

Maja turned from the comm unit to find Obsta practically on top of him.

'Damn shielded NzrealiCheqs,' he thought but said: "Didn't hear you sneak up on me, Obsta. Where I come from hosts don't ambush their guests."

"Well, now, that's an interesting subject, dearie. Where do you come from?" Obsta took a firm grip on both MageCheq hands, as much to examine as restrain them. "I had a little chat with an old Klingon mercenary of my acquaintance on Vrena. Those marks on your right hand say you're from the great and most pious Gozshedrefreingin Commune. No, no, honey, don't look so surprised, even we savages out here in the hinterspace have heard of it. And that one on your left hand means you belong to Master Ghet. If you talk to him like me I'm not surprised he's not missing his little runaway." He tightened his grip as Maja began to struggle in earnest. "Of course, maybe you let him touch your pretty body and not just mindfuck him like you do everybody else."

"Fucking let go of me, asshole," Maja snarled, trying to decide if he should kill him now or later.

"You're really a rotten guest, Maja," Obsta observed, shoving him away. "I'd think you'd want to repay your host a little."

"If payment is required, I would prefer you arrange it with me directly, Obsta." Sarek walked over and pulled Maja behind him. "Go gather our things, Maja, we are leaving," he added over his shoulder.

Maja hesitated, "Sait, this is the safest place for us," he looked Obsta Fira right in the eye, "and I think you might have misunderstood what you just saw."

Sarek roughly hauled Maja around to face him: "What do you mean?"

"That we do owe him," Maja said quietly, very much wanting to get Obsta in some secluded spot where he could silence the nosy NzrealiCheq forever.

"Nonsense!" Obsta laughed hollowly. "I'm just teasing your Maja, he's been at this too long, no sense of humor these gyharines after a few years, none at all! Ha-ha-ha. Besides," he added seriously, "we blast off this rock tonight and better days ahead, friends."

"How?" Maja asked him sharply.

"In a racing yacht I've arranged to 'borrow' directly after tonight's 'project.'"

"Which is?"

"Something you needn't worry your pretty little head about." Obsta, amused, watched Maja roll his furious brown eyes and wheel on Sarek.

"It was arranged this morning while you slept, my Maja," Sarek soothed at him.

Maja was too angry to ask what, exactly, had been arranged. "I see," he rasped, "well, then, I'll just go walk in the garden until it's time to eat again." He shook off Sarek's restraining hand and swept out in a really excellent imitation of his brother Jir.

Sarek and Obsta watched him leave; Sarek moved five steps to his left to keep Maja, stomping around in the garden, in sight.

"Sorry, Sait," Obsta said, moving to his side. "I didn't know he'd, ah, retired."

"It is quite recent." Sarek was studying the NzrealiCheq, it seemed to him that there was more going on between he and Maja than a simple, refused proposition. He could draw no conclusion so he dropped it and watched Maja drift deeper into the garden.

"What is that noise?" Sarek asked as the first blast shook the house.

* * *

Maja never quite knew what drew him to the end of the garden. Some half formed notion that there was something beautiful to see, just beyond the hedges, caught and held his attention. He had almost reached it when the first blast knocked him off his feet.

The next thing he knew Sarek was carrying him over one shoulder as he and Obsta ran for a vehicle.

* * *

/ ... sssssssssssssssss .../

/.. nex-sssss-t time ...come...quickly.../

* * *

It had been a pleasant delusion to think that the Horva and the Tziviian pirates would stay long in cooperation but now, as the Horva besieged with intent to pillage the great city of Bikz, it was over.

* * *

Spock interrupted his mother's pacing in the reception hall of the Rovirin garrison.

"How did you get here, Mother?" he asked in Vulcan after exchanging greetings.

"I bribed one of the Talljet Inc. couriers. Apparently the Company does quite a bit of business in this direction." Amanda smiled wearily at her son. "I think he must have cleared it with Ling or I wouldn't be here. Nevertheless. Any news, Spock?"

"No, Mother, none since I last spoke to Hobie," Spock told her as he guided her into a chair. "Rest a moment, I will bring you refreshment." Leaving the room he ran into Dr. McCoy.

"Is your Mother really here, Spock? It's incredible. How did she get here?" McCoy asked in a rush.

Spock sent him in to keep Lady Amanda company while he fetched tea for her. When he returned he found Kirk there as well.

" ... is suspicious of Star Fleet's intention toward this space," Amanda finished in Standard as Spock set the tea down before her. She poured for all of them.

"Why is that, Amanda?" Kirk asked neutrally.

"She thinks that this latest Terran isolationist movement has given Star Fleet the idea it can do as it pleases in non-aligned space and not be answerable to anyone."

"Mother," Spock cut in. "Are you here at T'Pau's request?"

"No, I'm not. I'm here to... to do something other than fret about Sarek at home," she told him with just a hint of distress showing. "I did, however, talk to T'Pau before I left and she shared her concerns with me, that's all."

They drank their tea in a moody silence.

"None of us can tell you the chronology of events, Amanda," Kirk said with a touch of regret. "It's classified at Level Five. We're not even supposed to know about it ourselves." He tried smiling but it was pathetic.

"Oh, well, Level Five, dear me. Let's forget I mentioned it," Amanda shrugged.

Spock winced mentally at his mother's sarcasm but the Terrans seemed amused.

"You've no news of Sarek, either, have you, Captain Kirk?" she asked after a brief silence.

"No, nothing," Kirk said. "No word from the Talljets either."

"They were rather rudely kicked off this planet," McCoy put in.

"How so, Doctor?" Amanda asked.

"Well, Admiral Yakolev chased Jir off with his Federation Mandate and that was that," McCoy told her, avoiding any awkward time references.

"Without any resistance?" Amanda asked surprised. She knew how contentious the Talljets could be when they were crossed.

"I think Jir's more a lover than a fighter, ma'am."

Amanda smiled vaguely and wondered which Jir Talljet Dr. McCoy knew. Certainly not the one that fought for and won civil rights for the permanent guest workers on Drisia 5. Or the one who successfully defended three Mrikaians accused of murder on Mrikian-hating Brosia 8. Or the one who organized the prosecution for the war crimes tribunal on Nboria 12 that, in the face of a hostile public and government, sent seven monsters to prison for the rest of their lives. That Jir was a fighter and winner of righteous causes. But, then again, that Jir was too smart to take on the flock of Star Fleet warships she'd seen in orbit.

"Ah," she said, drinking her tea, before swerving onto a new subject: "I saw the vid, Spock. Maja Talljet is with him. Did you see it?"

"Yes."

"Strange to see Maja again, like that."

"Yes."

"It gives me hope that Maja is with him."

Spock nodded; it gave him hope, too, but he didn't know how to put that into words.

A bedroom and sitting room overlooking a fountain were quickly done up for Amanda's occupation. When Ambassador Sdiz called to pay his respects, he was informed that the Lady Amanda was indisposed.

* * *

"WHERE THE HELL ARE WE GOING, OBSTA?" Maja yelled over the explosions all around them.

"SOMEPLACE QUIET, DAHRLIN'," Obsta yelled over his shoulder as he dodged the hoversedan through the barrage. It was a deluxe model so its shields were holding - so far.

"OBSTA, YOU'RE HEADING FOR THE PORT. THAT'S WHAT THEY'RE SHELLING. IT'S VERY NOT QUIET THERE," Maja explained at the top of his voice.

"WE'RE RUNNING A LITTLE ERRAND, DEARIE, SO JUST FUCKING RELAX. YOU'RE ONLY ALONG FOR THE RIDE ANYWAY," Obsta informed him likewise.

"OBSTA...!" Maja began.

"OBSTA FIRA IS TOO BUSY DRIVING THIS CAR TO TALK TO YOU RIGHT NOW, SWEETHEART" Obsta yelled, not even turning to look.

Maja twisted around to look at Sarek, upon whose lap he was seated: "What gives, Sait?"

"There is a large shipment of dilithium crystals in a warehouse in the port area...."

"The same port area that's being shelled right now, yes?"

"Yes, and this falls nicely into our plan. The guards are distracted from above while we slip in from below."

"Are you mad? What 'we'? 'We' are not 'they'. 'They' are them and them are FUCKING STUPID," Maja shot hard looks at Mogra and Taig, Obsta's trusted henchmen. "Stop this car and let us out. We've better chances with the Horva than here."

Sarek made no comment as he lifted his hand to Maja's shoulder and neck-pinched him into silence.

"Well, that's a neat trick, Sait," Mogra said, impressed.

"Yes, I'll say," Taig put in. "You'll have to teach it to me someday."

Sarek nodded urbanely as he tenderly cradled Maja's limp body in his arms.

In the confusion and chaos of the bombardment, they reached the warehouse unnoticed. Sarek arranged Maja neatly on the seat before slipping out of the car and into the building with the others. The quartet made their silent way into the heart of the building before any alarms went off inside.

* * *

/... there ... there.../

/... better one than none... yesssss. ./

* * *

Maja woke strangling on his own scream and banged his head on the car liner. He cursed and knew Sarek was in trouble. He flung himself over the seat and popped the trunk. From the trunk he slung two phaser machine guns around him and shoved a phaser pistol in his belt. As an afterthought he grabbed a bandoleer of small radius photon grenades and a big knife.

'That Obsta Fira - arms for every occasion,' Maja thought grimly. He adjusted his vision from form and color to emanations. Turning he saw two figures that were approaching him stop and then disappear. He hadn't time to really think about it as he flew through the building, following a tendril of his lover's essence.

The Tziviians had Obsta's gang pinned down in a box canyon in the container warehouse. Their exit was blocked by heavily armed pirates until Maja blasted them out of the way from behind.

"C'MON, C'MON, C'MON," he yelled, firing at the herd of pirates firing at him from the mezzanine. Obsta grabbed a machine gun and Taig lobbed photon grenades at them.

"This way out," Sarek said calmly and led them to a loading dock that exploded in front of them from a Hovra blast.

"This way, then," he waved them down another corridor he'd memorized from the building plans. They blasted their way through a set of steel doors and into the maze of the port's dry-dock.

"Where's yer yacht, Obsta?" Maja hissed at the NzrealiCheq.

"This way, this way," Obsta hissed back as they flew along walkway after walkway. Reaching a sleek white ship, he pulled a wicked looking tool out of his pocket and got the door open.

The five flung themselves inside, trying to catch their breath.

Mogra sat in the pilot seat and conjured the power on. Raising the shields, he began the pre-flight sequence. The little craft rocked on its supports as the Hovra blasts got closer and closer.

Maja stood in the middle of the luxurious cabin torn between demanding to be let out with Sarek and staying along for the ride. It was still his gut feeling that they were safest with Obsta as long as the NzrealiCheq didn't do any more stupid improvisations like the one he'd just witnessed. As long as Sarek didn't encourage him to do any more stupid improvisations like the one he'd just witnessed. Never happen, can't trust the Fira any farther than I can throw him,' Maja thought wildly. 'Let us out. Now.'

As if reading his thought, Taig pulled the machine gun off Maja's shoulder and the Fira removed the phaser pistol and knife from Maja's belt.

Maja relaxed down into a crouch to lunge for Obsta's throat. He was restrained by Sarek's warm hand on his elbow and his gentle, "Maja, come sit with me, please, I am feeling fatigued by events." Sarek drew him to a couch aft. Suddenly drained, Maja curled into Sarek's arms and might have wept in relief and frustration were they not observed.

Sarek patted his half Mage comfortingly and looked up to find Taig's eyes on them as he stood next to Obsta in the co-pilot seat. He found Taig's face unreadable and turned his attention back to Maja.

They lifted off and skimmed low over the city and water and didn't rise out of the planet's gravitational field until they were over the southern pole, where the pirate ships were thinnest.

They could not notice the small ship following them just out of sensor range but Maja, now that he had the leisure to do so, could not stop thinking of the pair of tall pale beings that disappeared when he shifted his vision from form and color to emanations.

'What kind of being,' he wondered sleepily against Sarek, 'in the infinite mystery of god's creation has no emanation?'

* * *

/ ... the MageCheq...sssssstronger than I thought../

/.... knowssss what he isssss...?.../

/... no....but knowsss how to ussse it .../

/.... yesss..... bound for....?...../

/......Gyvrre....Gyvrre..../

* * *

Mogra was better at take off than landing and this was not lost on the denizens of the office building he crashed into in the city of Kri, on the planet Gyvrre.

"Great landing, Mog, couldn't have done better myself," Maja snarled, prying open the hatch and kicking debris out of the way.

"Fuck you, Maja, next time you can..."

"There will be no next time, pal."

"Children, children, Obsta Fira has a headache so why don't you just shut up?" Obsta asked, guiding them away from the wreck, into the street and as swiftly as their legs could carry them.

They stopped to catch their breath.

"Where are we, Obsta?" Sarek asked, trying to orient himself to the new terrain.

"Kri, on Gyvrre."

"What do you know about it?"

"Not much, I've never been here before but I know they speak Patois and trade with the Tziviians."

"Trade with? Not work for?" Maja wanted to know.

"Yes, dearie." Obsta looked him in the eye. "This is one of the planets the original Tziviians come from so it's more advanced than Imk."

Maja and Sarek exchanged glances, wondering what kind of psychic assaults they might have to endure here.

"What kind of money do they use and do we have any?" Taig asked.

"Pirate doubloons and the local loot and no, we don't got any," Obsta told him, eyeing Maja. "But we do have something to sell."

Maja stared him down and turned to Sarek, who was looking at him in a speculative fashion.

"Just to get us started, Maja dahling," Obsta encouraged.

"I'm not dressed for it," Maja shot back, thinking of the rich fabrics and furs he'd left on Imk.

"But you look marvelous, darrrling, simply marvelous," Taig purred at him. "Very young and vulnerable."

"Yes, indeed you do, Maja dear," Mogra oozed and got a sneer in answer.

Maja rolled his eyes and considered his wardrobe: black leggings and a baggy blue sweater. He looked like a cute young guy in his knock around clothes but not at all like the expensive sex worker he was.

"Well?" he asked Sarek.

"I leave it to you, Maja, I am already in your debt," Sarek said simply.

"We all are," Obsta put in quickly, Taig and Mogra murmuring 'yes, yes, very much so' behind him.

Maja looked at the light and knew the day was wearing on and that soon they would need to make some arrangement for the night, but where?

"Oh, hell," he sighed and pushed his unruly locks into some kind of order. He stepped into the street and was nearly knocked down by a hovertaxi.

"Git the fuck otta the street, gyharine!" the driver screamed at him in Patois.

The passenger, a well dressed middle aged man, leaned out of the window to take a closer look at Maja.

"I'm so sorry driver, I didn't see you were engaged," Maja said innocently in Patois.

"That's still no reason to run this young man down, driver," the well dressed middle aged man scolded, stepping out of the vehicle. "Do you need a ride, sir?" he asked Maja, "I'd be happy to share this taxi with you."

"Oh, thank you," Maja sighed, getting into the cab. "I would be much obliged to you."

Twenty minutes later Maja returned driving the cab with enough money for a room and meals for all. No one asked him any questions.

part 33

"If you'll excuse us, Dr. McCoy and I have a few things to discuss yet this evening," Kirk said suavely to Spock, Amanda and Captain Blyton. "So we'll say good night." He rose and left the room with Dr. McCoy in his wake.

Spock had seen the look in Kirk's eye and knew that he wanted to be alone with Leonard tonight. This was fine with Spock, he'd open the link and Kirk could be as alone with Leonard as he wanted. The Vulcan made his own excuses and retired shortly thereafter.

Amanda and Grace Blyton had struck up something of a friendship. Both being very perceptive women of a certain age and having traveled extensively, they were happy to be left on their own.

"I think there's something on between Kirk and his CMO," Blyton ventured quietly.

"They are old friends, aren't they?" Amanda had also noticed something but wondered if she'd just been with the Vulcans too long and she was seeing things that were not there. She was relieved to know this was not the case.

"Yes, but I've seen Jim in love once or twice and as I recall, this is how he looks."

"Dr. McCoy is a fine person," Amanda said after they'd thought about that for a moment.

"Oh, yes, very much respected in the Fleet. Quite well liked, too."

"Is there any reason they could not be together?" Amanda asked. "Does Star Fleet frown on this type of relationships?"

"Only if Kirk were using his rank to get him into ..." Blyton backtracked to rephrase. "Using his rank to coerce McCoy or anyone in his command to do something they didn't want to do."

"Like go to bed with him?"

"Yes," Blyton smiled, "like that."

"I think they make a nice couple," Amanda said thoughtfully.

"They do, don't they?" Blyton said. "I hope Jim keeps him."

"What do you mean?"

"Well, Jim likes to roam a bit," Blyton said. "He is, however, getting to the age where he might be thinking of settling down and McCoy really is a good choice when you think about it."

Amanda grimaced mentally as she thought about her son's unsettled state and wondered where, when or how that would be resolved. Spock was disinclined to discuss the subject at this time.

"How well do you know Admiral Yakolev, Grace?" Amanda asked after a moment.

"Not well. He's always been in Fleet Intelligence and I in Exploration. He has a reputation for being able to handle the Klingons, though."

"How so?"

"He seems to know how far he can go before they lash back." Blyton thought back to Yakolev's brinkmanship in Sector 9.867 that added two systems to the Federation's protected space when it should have caused an all out war.

"Would he use my husband's abduction to start a war?"

"I don't know," Blyton said. "He certainly brought enough warships to start one and he wants a foothold in this space very badly. So does Ambassador Sdiz, for that matter."

"Do you know why?"

"No, but I have a theory. The Klingons are colonizing like mad in this sector and if they continue on their present course, their space will abut Federation space in the least populated sectors. In an all out war, say in twenty to twenty-five years, it would give the Klingons a straight shot into the heart of Federation space, via Vulcan." Blyton paused to drink some cognac. "If the Klingons ever aligned with the Romulans and god knows who or what else out there, it would give them all a straight shot into the heart of Federation space, again via Vulcan. I believe this is what Yakolev and Sdiz are trying to avoid. They also probably want to keep the pirates in this space as a buffer between the Federation, the Klingons and the Romulans."

"So Star Fleet is not afraid of pirates?"

"Not really. These pirates fight among themselves pretty much. What the Fleet likes is that if the Klingons or Romulans want to move on the Federation they will first have to fight their way through some tough space to do it." Blyton thought for a moment. "Strange things happen in that space. Ships drift out of it empty, like they were haunted. We've found recorder buoys that were blank except for a strange keening, like a woman crying. Very odd; no explanation."

"What do they call this space?"

"The Sargasso Space."

* * *

"You're being rather obvious, Jim, one more smoldering look and I'm sure Grace Blyton would have asked if we've set a date." McCoy was rather annoyed at being removed from such pleasant company.

"Well, it was all I could do not to drag you under the table and have my way with you," Kirk smiled warmly at the doctor, pulling him into his bedroom.

"Aren't you worried about your reputation?"

"With Grace and Lady Amanda? No, they're the souls of discretion," Kirk said, drawing McCoy into his arms.

"Then mine?" McCoy eluded Kirk's lips, which then settled on his neck.

Kirk leaned back to look at his reluctant lover. "No, for the same reasons," he said, stepping back and looking come hither into stern blue eyes.

While waiting for McCoy's eyes to soften, Kirk mused on the fact that their reputations and their future had much been on his mind lately. He was very deeply in love with McCoy and could see no reason not to stay with him when the mission was over. If McCoy was so inclined, that is. Things were better between them since the doctor had withdrawn his request for transfer but Kirk still felt some hesitation and a certain resignation in bed. Perhaps it was the lack of commitment that held McCoy back. The doctor had seen Kirk through countless love affairs and perhaps McCoy thought he was just another conquest. Well, he was but he might be the final conquest of this life, the one Kirk could settle down with and live happily ever after with.

'How odd that that never occurred to me before,' Kirk had thought on more than one occasion lately.

"Bones," Kirk said quietly, "let's get married. Grace is here, she's an old friend. Let's go up to the Aketi, Spock and Amanda can stand up for us and it's done. Shall we?"

"No, let's not," McCoy said firmly, recovering from this shocking request. "Grace, Amanda, Spock, you, me, and every Star Fleeter here is in the middle of a very important mission, Jim, this is not the time or place to turn it into a party."

"All right, good point," Kirk conceded. "But will you marry me later?"

"Ask me later, when the mission is over and we're on Terra," McCoy told him, thinking 'and you've seen eight or ten of your old girlfriends and Spock has had this damn bond severed.'

"Why can't you just say yes now?" Kirk wanted to know.

"Because it's late and I'm tired," McCoy said, knowing if he said 'no' at this time he'd never hear the end of it. Better to dodge the question for now. "And if you want to make love, you'd better hurry up before I fall asleep," he added, moving back into Kirk's arms, to even further obscure the question from Kirk's mind.

Kirk, happy to be distracted, pressed a long kiss on McCoy's lips. He slipped an arm around the doctor and guided him to his bed.

~

'To marry is an excellent idea,' Spock thought. 'I would always know that the other is safe and well cared for. I have no doubt Leonard will see the logic of this in time.'

~

Kirk had, over time, become adept at getting McCoy out of his clothes and into his bed. He let his mind go pleasantly blank as he stretched out next to the doctor and pulled him close. He ran his hands over his lover's warm flesh and kissed him sweetly. This was exactly what he wanted now, perhaps always.

~

'I could visit them or possibly live nearby.'

~

McCoy sighed with pleasure as Kirk's lips caressed the head of his hard cock. He did enjoy sex with Jim, he was so tender, so passionate, so skilled, so thorough.

"Oh yes," McCoy whispered as a slippery, blunt fingertip pressed inside him to caress the hard place behind his penis. "Yes."

~

'Yes. I believe this is the correct course for all of us.'

~

Kirk rolled McCoy on top of him and centered the doctor over his cock.

McCoy slowly lowered himself onto his lover's shaft, twisting right and left ever so slightly until the head slipped in. He paused to let them both recover.

~

'We must, of course, proceed slowly and with caution to avoid opposition within Star Fleet.'

~

Caressing McCoy's hips, Kirk gently teased the sensitive inner thigh, coaxing him lower. He reached up to stroke the doctor's erection and fondle his testicles.

McCoy looked into the warm hazel eyes and saw nothing but pleasure there and - what? - love, perhaps. Feeling Kirk's soft pubic hair under his ass, he paused to rest and enjoy his lover's hands on him.

~

'Surely Star Fleet would never come between two (or three) of its finest officers.'

~

Kirk thrust up to meet McCoy in the rhythm the doctor had set for them. They moved as one, each stroke rubbing against McCoy's prostate, bringing him a little higher, a little closer.

Kirk let himself be swept away in his lover's passion. Feeling the first drops splash on his chest and McCoy clenching around him, Kirk let his own climax rush over him. He thrust one last time into McCoy and held him still as his cock jerked inside him.

McCoy fell into Kirk's arms and was held in a comforting embrace as his ecstatic shuddering dwindled into nothingness.

After a few moments, Kirk's soft penis slipped out and he settled McCoy by his side. They fell into a peaceful, satiated sleep.

~

'Yes, good; all very good.'

* * *

Sarek walked briskly through the warm night streets of Kri and thought of how pleasant it was to go home to Maja.

They had all settled into a large apartment over a grocery on a quiet street. Obsta Fira and Maja had made some kind of peace and were, at minimum, civil to one another. Taig and Mogra followed Obsta and the household ticked along quite pleasantly. Maja had collected enough clients to keep them fed and housed until Obsta and his gang had planned and pulled off a big enough score so the half Mage could stay home, which was Sarek's preference.

Sarek and Maja had adjusted to the new telepathic energy here. It was not as bad as they feared. The energy was stronger but somehow more pure and simply flowed over their shields without battering against them. Obsta, Taig and Mogra had the same experience. They had all also experienced a certain dread now and then that reminded them very much of the last night on Imk at Sarek and Maja's rooms. Other than to stay in a group and be wary, they did not know what to do about it.

Sarek heard footsteps mimicking his stride and slowed a little to let Obsta Fira come abreast of him. They exchanged greetings and continued on their way home.

"We're all set for tomorrow," Obsta said conversationally.

"Yes," Sarek answered, "as much as possible under the circumstances. I would still like to know how many guards will accompany the shipment."

"We'll be long gone before anyone even shows up to start loading, Sait," Obsta told him. "Relax, it's in the bag."

Sarek allowed himself to believe the NzrealiCheq even though this is what he had said about the bungled last robbery on Imk.

They turned onto their street, into the house and went up the stairs to their rooms. As it was late, they said good night and Sarek slipped quietly into the bedroom he shared with Maja.

Maja rolled over and watched the Vulcan come in.

"I did not mean to wake you, Maja," Sarek told him, neatly hanging his jacket on a chair.

"I like to wake up when you come home, Sait," Maja said softly, moving over so Sarek could have the already warm side of the bed. Kri was warmer than Bikz but still cool for the Vulcan.

"That pleases me," Sarek murmured, pulling the half Mage into his arms.

Maja's only answer was to tighten his arms around Sarek and welcome the Vulcan's tongue in his mouth. He drew his hips back to accommodate their burgeoning erections and then forward to rub them together.

Breaking the kiss, Maja urged Sarek onto his back and kissed a trail down to the Vulcan's cock. He ran his lips around the head, darting his tongue into the sensitive ridges and down along the sides. He engulfed the head and slowly drew the entire shaft down his throat. This was quite an accomplishment for the half Mage and both of them appreciated it very much.

Sarek interrupted Maja to pull him into a sixty-nine and applied himself to pleasuring his lover. He twined his tongue around the shapely head of Maja's cock and sucked on his balls, something that drove the half Mage wild. Sarek had become quite adept at oral sex and very quickly brought Maja off.

Sarek pulled Maja up to him and kissed him hard. He draped Maja's long legs over his shoulders and rolled him forward.

Maja crossed his ankles behind Sarek's neck and angled his hips up to meet the Vulcan's cock, which gently slipped inside him. Never able to control his reaction, Maja let out a groan of pleasure and thrust wildly against his lover.

In consideration of the co-occupants of the apartment, Sarek clamped a hand over Maja's mouth as he thrust all the way in. It was Sarek's opinion that Maja made the most charming noises while making love but he preferred not to share their joining with the entire household. Sarek removed his hand and bent to kiss his lover when he hit bottom. However, he replaced his hand when he began to fuck his lover with long hard strokes.

Maja was hard again before the third stroke and thrust up to meet Sarek's rhythm. He rolled his head on the pillow in pure animal pleasure and looked up at the intent Vulcan fucking him and very nicely, too.

Sarek shortened his thrusts and slid all the way in. He ran his tongue over Maja's calf and then bit him, hard enough to leave a mark but not to draw blood.

Maja knew this game, he jerked his legs off Sarek's shoulder and wrapped them around his waist, hooking his feet over the Vulcan's ass. He looked Sarek right in the eye as if daring him to try to pull out.

Which is what Sarek then tried to do. It became a match of strengths, Sarek withdrawing and Maja forcing him back in. Eventually Maja surrendered to his own pleasure and let go of Sarek's ass. He drew his legs up to his chest to give Sarek a better angle of penetration so the Vulcan could fuck him silly. He thrashed wildly against Sarek as he came and was crushed against Sarek's warm chest as the Vulcan shuddered into his own profound orgasm.

They lay panting against each other. Sarek groaned softly into Maja's neck and Maja stroked his broad shoulders, shivering with pleasure beneath him.

After a few spent moments, Sarek withdrew and rolled onto his back. He pulled Maja to his side and settled him on his shoulder. He stroked the ebony curls and held him close as Maja drifted off into happy sleep.

Sarek stayed awake for a moment longer, observing that his life had become a life with Maja and no other.

* * *

/ ... we wait ..../

/.. they be sssseparted tomorrow ..../

/...we wait ... tomorrow we get the MageCheq at leasst.../

* * *

Olfieriam crystals are only four fifths as valuable per gram as dilithium, however, in the quantities Obsta planned to steal they would get the band enough money to get to another planet. Hence he'd devised a plan with Sarek to steal a shipment bound from the warlord Ula's mines when it passed through Kri. Maja had gotten enough information from various punters to make this a viable operation.

So, late the next evening they converged on a port warehouse and slipped inside, except for Maja, who stayed with the getaway car.

The plan was for Sarek and Obsta to take control of the main guard station while Taig and Mogra brought out as many bags of crystal as they could carry. Certainly enough to get them off this rock and into better days somewhere else.

Maja stood quietly in the shadows, listening to Sarek in the link and almost missed the whisper of dread that slithered around him. He looked around sharply and switched his vision from color and form to emanations - nothing. He switched it to energy field and ducked under the arms that were about to sweep him up. He leapt back and lashed out at the creature. He turned to run, only to find his path blocked by another. Hoping that Sarek would hear his cry for help through the link, Maja hoisted his shields and centered his energy to fight.

~

Sarek heard Maja's cry for help at the same moment he heard the alarms go off in the outer warehouse. He and Obsta met Taig and Mogra in the hallway and were almost out of the building before the security doors swung down.

~

Fighting for his life, Maja still heard the alarms and knew that Sarek was caught. He fought free of the creatures and ran to the front of the building in time to see dozens of guards and the warlord Ula himself entering it.

/...come MageCheq ... come./

/!!FUCK OFF!!/

Bashing his way past the creatures, Maja swung away from the front of the building and climbed up to look in a window. His heart sank as he saw Ula cuff Taig and all of them dragged further into the building. He sent /I'm coming/ to Sarek and climbed a little higher to figure out just how he was going to do that. First he had to get away from the duo that was climbing up after him. He climbed to the third level, the fourth and finally the roof. He darted across it and hid behind some vents to catch his breath and come up with a plan. He shielded his energy and shifted his vision to form and color.

'They look like ghouls from hell,' he thought, watching the tall pale bounty hunters trying to find his trail.

They all dove for cover, Maja into a vent, when a trio of guards stepped onto the roof to search it. Apparently they'd found the getaway vehicle and were on the alert.

Maja heard the guards pass him by in his vent and then heard a scuffle and squeak from another part of the roof. He waited and then cautiously lifted himself out of the vent. He had almost reached the roof door when two sets of long pale hands restrained him. He fought off one creature and turned to fight the other and felt all his energy drained out of him.

/...not to damage...!/

Maja sank to his knees and began to weep in hopeless despair.

Yrit and Gvo stepped back in confusion; strong emotions gave them pause.

"Who are you?" Maja sobbed.

"Your brother sssssent ussss," Yrit told him.

"Then help me, please please help me," Maja begged.

/..we cannot fight him like thissss .../

/...ssssstong...ssssstronger than we thought..../

/.... more with Sssssarek..../

"We will help you, MageCheq, but then you come with usss," Gvo said softly, "quietly, gently," he added.

"I'll do what you say," Maja lied.

"Ssssswear it on your brother'sssss livesssss," Yrit warned.

Maja paused to consider the seriousness of this. Sarek was now his whole world but his brothers were his whole life. He looked up into the unreadable eyes above him.

"I swear," he said. He would save Sarek's life and work out the consequences later.

The bounty hunters hauled him to his feet and they moved quietly into the building.

part 34

/I'm coming/

'I hope so,' thought Sarek as he and the gang were herded into an office at gunpoint.

~

Maja was in awe and beginning to fear Yrit and Gvo as he watched them move through the building following Sarek's trail. What astonished the MageCheq was how they simply drained the energy from everyone in their path. It was a rougher version of what had happened to him. Whereas he was merely incapacitated, these later victims were dead.

'What have you sent after me, brothers?' Maja wondered.

/sssshh.... we cannot hear Ssssarek over your noissssse.../

Maja shifted his vision down to emanations to quiet his mind and follow Sarek's trail in his own way. He watched with some unease as being after being ceased to emanate as they passed by. He further noticed that the bounty hunters' emanation field flared briefly and then faded with each death.

They came to the office where Sarek and company were being held.

Maja reached for the door but Yrit waved him away.

'There are four of them.'

/... we know .../

/...wait...wait.../

Maja stepped aside and thought he could hear bodies slumping to the floor.

'Why not do that with us in the first place,' he thought before he could stop himself.

/....your ssssshields ... too sssstrong..../

Gvo pushed the door open and they moved inside. Everyone in the office except the well shielded Sarek was asleep and he was trying to wake Obsta.

Maja flung himself into Sarek's arms.

"Hurry, Sait, we go."

"We cannot leave Obsta, Taig and Mogra. They have helped us."

One look told Maja that Sarek would put up a helluva fight about it. He leaned down and melded with Obsta who suddenly snapped awake from the life force Maja pumped into him.

"What the hell..." was all he got out before his eyes lit on the bounty hunter ghouls.

"New friends for you, MajaYaja?" Taig asked rising from under Maja's fingers.

"Can we go now?" Mogra asked as Maja helped him up, looking around at the field of corpses they stood in.

/....go..../

They stepped back.

"C'mon, let's go," Obsta took Sarek and Maja by an elbow each.

/...you go..../

"Not without them," Taig said dangerously.

Maja swung round to face Obsta.

"Go," he hissed, "go, take Sait and go. Go!"

/....ssssssait comessss with ussss.../

Everybody looked at Maja.

"Maja, what is this?" Sarek asked quietly.

"My brothers sent them to 'rescue' us," Maja said sadly.

"I see." He turned to the bounty hunters. "We choose not to go with you at this time," Sarek informed them.

Mr. Yrit gave Sarek a long blank look. "Let'sssss dissssscusssss thisssss outssssside...." he said reasonably and moved to the door.

"That's actually not a bad idea," Obsta opined and all followed him following Yrit out of the charnel house.

"What gives, Maja?" Obsta hissed as they left the building.

"What I said, my brothers sent them to rescue us and that's what they're doing." Maja informed him.

"What a bad idea," Obsta murmured as they made their way through the bustling evening streets. No one in the vicinity seemed even remotely aware that all the occupants of a nearby warehouse had mysteriously died in their sleep. The next day's newspaper would attribute the massacre to a rival gang and poison gas.

Yrit and Gvo led them out of the port warehouse complex and to the dry dock where their ship waited patiently for them.

/...your promisssse, MageCheq..../

"Sait," Maja looked into Sarek's face. "I promised that I would go with them if they helped me rescue you. I..."

He was interrupted by Taig and Mogra jumping the hunters. Obsta grabbed Maja and Sarek as if to run for it but was brought to his knees by a tap on the shoulder from Gvo. Yrit stood over the unconscious Taig and Mogra, waiting.

"Please. Please, don't kill them, please," Maja begged, surprising even himself. "They're .... they're friends."

Gvo and Yrit stepped away from Obsta and his gang, now fast asleep but very much alive, knowing the situation was under control. As the most honorable of the Talljets, Maja would be honorable in this and Sarek would follow his lover. They waited; they were patient creatures.

"I swore, Sarek," Maja whispered, turning back to him. "On my brother's lives that I would go peacefully with them if they saved you." He looked up at his lover. "I must." He stepped back from the Vulcan.

"We are ssssent for you, too, Vulcan," Gvo hissed at him. "But thisss one alone will do," he inclined his ghostly head toward Maja.

Sarek knew he couldn't fight these creatures and that Maja would not. He looked down at Obsta, Taig and Mogra sleeping peacefully. The decision was not hard to make.

"Then let us go."

* * *

'What are these things?' Maja thought. He sat next to Sarek, both of them watching Yrit and Gvo piloting their ship away from Gyvrre.

/...you do not know....?/

Maja shook his head more to rid himself of their intrusive energy than in negation.

/...not know...MageCheq...?/

"NO, I DO NOT KNOW," Maja shouted at them, causing them, including Sarek, to jump. "If I knew I wouldn't wonder, would I?"

"Like your brothers, you make good ussse of your fancy Vulcan education, Maja," Yrit said softly.

"Yesss, logical, logical," Gvo murmured dully.

Maja stared at him and moved more protectively in front of Sarek.

"Are you all right, Maja?" Sarek murmured.

Maja nodded.

"Don't know what we are, eh?" Yrit continued in a whisper. "Never look in the mirror, MageCheq?"

They let their eyes rest gently on him, let their MageCheq energy resonate with his and signal to his soulmind.

Horrified, Maja slammed his shields up higher and everybody jumped again.

"I am not like you," Maja said firmly, refusing to look at them, leaning back against Sarek.

"No?," Gvo asked softly, "can't track by a being'sss ssshadow? Can't read imagessss out of a being'sss thought field? Can't sssee enough into the future to sssscare yourssssself?"

"We're MageCheq'ssss, too," Yrit breathed. "We did not have a Vulcan education to beat the sssseer and the hunter out of ussss."

"They did not...beat me," Maja protested and looked at Sarek, who remained silent.

"Perhapsss," Yrit said. "But you do not know how sssstrong you are. You feed on the energy of othersss but only the tearssss."

"You only eat the fearssss and ssssaddnesss," Gvo told him. "You filter them for the nourisssshing ressssonancessss and casssst asssside the resssst."

"Thosssse old priessstssss taught you to be gentle," Yrit said. "To protect thossss weaker than you, to heal the ssssick," he whisked a tear off Maja's cheek and smoothed it over Gvo's lips. "Heal them, not finisssh them off."

"Your compasssssion is your weaknessssss and sssstrength," Gvo said, reading the future in the fabric of the present. "It will put you in danger again. You mussst learn to weigh your love againssst your power." He turned away and looked at the stars.

"Fundamentally you are like ussss: ssstrong, wisssse, sssswift," Yrit reached over to gently close Gvo's empty trance eyes. "Prey and predator breathe the same atmossssphere." He looked at Maja. "You are domesssticated. You guard the flock, not eat it." He turned to look at the stars as well. "We eat it."

Maja was silent, taking this in. Long ago he'd seen the path diverge before him. In one direction he stayed among the beings he loved in the places he called home. In the other, well, it was as if all the mystery of the universe would flow through him and he would cease to be recognizable to even himself. Not this life, he had decided, not this life. He loved; it was a pathetic kind of love compared to what he'd decided to reject, but it was more real to him than the other and his life was full of beings who loved him back. And that was enough for this life.

Hobie and Jir told him they'd made the same decision a little earlier for the same reasons. No one asked Ling and he did not tell them. Ling's path had diverged long ago, on Magidrian.

'They're right, these ghouls,' Maja thought. 'The good monks did teach us to be gentle and protect the weak.'

"Why do you eat them..." Maja wondered what to call the ghoul and settled on, "stranger."

"Exisssstance in a body issss a horror and releasssse to a higher plane is dessssired by all beingssss," Yrit answered slowly, he was fatigued by talking.

'But isn't such destruction for the mind of god to act upon?' Maja wondered.

/There is only creation in the mind of god, MageCheq. Destruction is a concept manufactured by beings unable to see the divine transmogrification all around them. Your idea of death and destruction does not touch the eternal spark in all creation, the corporeal or unseen realms. The mind of god encompasses and animates these bags of blood, bone and shit we drag about in this plane but is not it or of it./

/All physical beings live on the edge of the infinite mind of god's mind of god's mind of god. It is either an abyss or a heaven to them but the most important knowing is that they are of it and not it of them. Everything in these interconnected realms is god and the highest course is to know that and surrender./

/Like all of our kind, MageCheq, you know this but you do not surrender. You are not fully aligned with the energy of the universe. It frightens you because you did not mature in the rarefied energy fields that are Magidrian. We did. We know this and in our surrender we hunt and how we hunt, the result of our action, turns the wheel and we are that much closer to union with the mind of god. Those we eat have returned to union with the mind of god. We ourselves will return to the mind of god when that is what is in the mind of god./

/All courses are decided. There is no either/or, this or that in the infinite paths before you. How ever it does, your soulmind must choose the path it will take. And then accept the consequences. All the consequences./

Maja woke with a start and looked up at Sarek, sleeping, on whose shoulder he lay. He looked up front at Yrit and Gvo. They were unmoving in their seats - sphinxes or as if dead. He laid back down on Sarek and thought about his strange dream. He wondered if it was a dream. And then he fell asleep again; it had been a long day.

* * *

"Well, that's a lot but I don't think I could have cut a better deal," Jir was lashing his tail as he paced the mezzanine in Hobie's workshop on Povarb. He was not happy about the price Mr. Death and Mr. Suffering had put on Maja and Sarek but, oh well, if it got them home, or even just Maja home, it was worth it. He was not happy in general. Losing Rovirin and being chased off with his tail between his legs still stung. He was relieved he could still lash it at all.

"Better days, Nolis," (little brothers) Hobie poured them a little more of the good Rovirin wine Jir had brought along. He looked wistfully at Maja's drawing on the label and wondered when he would see him again.

They all looked at the drawing of the cathedral facade and thought about Maja.

"Madness," Ling said quietly, "pure madness to walk into that prison for Sarek the Vulcan."

"Must have seemed like a good idea at the time, Ling," Jir said gently. "Or he would not have done it."

Hobie doubted that he himself would have lifted a finger to help Sarek and wondered at self-absorbed little Maja doing so.

"Does he still love Spock so much?" Hobie asked.

"I don't know, Nolo," Jir answered. "It seems like he's shut away that part of his life but maybe he hasn't. Or maybe he just couldn't bear to see Sarek mistreated. You know, he always liked Sarek in his quiet little way."

"Because of Spock," Hobie persisted.

"Perhaps," Jir conceded. "But perhaps he understood Sarek's frustration with Spock from the other side."

"What do you mean, Noli?"

"Sarek was frustrated with Spock for not being Vulcan enough in the same way Maja was frustrated with him for being too Vulcan. And they both lost him for the same reason. He couldn't live in their crossfire, not to mention Lady Amanda's demands on his psyche, so he choose the path of sideways resistance: marry 'the thing' but never live on Vulcan. Sarek gets heirs and Spock gets Star Fleet and everybody is logical..."

"And poor Maja gets fucked over," Hobie said coldly.

"And as you know," Jir said levelly. "Maja would rather have Spock happy even if it means Spock being happy without him.

"Now how Sarek fits into that is interesting. Spock loves his father even though he doesn't realize it. Maja might have felt that and this is yet another effort to spare the VulCheq some pain. Not to mention Lady Amanda..."

"That Terran bitch can rot in hell," Hobie snarled.

Jir ignored this as usual. "Well, whatever, Hobie, whatever. But you must know that if Sarek dies before her, she'll drown Spock in grief and Maja knows what that will do to the VulCheq."

"Why is Spock so loved?" Hobie asked bitterly. "What has he ever done to deserve it?"

"I've no idea except that he did love Maja," Jir said gently. "He loved him but he didn't know what it was, it frightened him, and he ran away. It frightened both of them in different ways."

"Well, I was terrified, too," Hobie scowled. "SpockDeVulCheq in love." He shivered. "Yikes."

Jir smiled. "Oh, yes, truly terrifying. Amazing we aren't all completely unhinged, eh, Ling?" He pulled him under his arm and kissed his forehead.

Dolo-fra looked up from the workshop floor with his hands on his hips.

"If you drunken MageCheq sluts can spare him," Dolo called pleasantly, "I could use the Hobie down here to FUCKING HELP ME PUT THESE ENGINES HE DESTROYED BACK TOGETHER."

Hobie had to forcibly restrain Jir from throwing the bottle of wine at Dolo-fra's head. Much as he loved Jir, there was a wickedly wonderful mechanical mind in that head and it still had lots of tread on it.

* * *

Thomas Albany was deeply impressed with Hobie's base on Povarb. The Commander had seen a lot of things in his career but seldom had he seen such a magnificent shipbuilding operation as he had here. Everything was state of the art and some of it was beyond what he knew of in Star Fleet.

Albany and his crew were given free rein to explore as much as they liked. The Shilo's technicians even helped Dolo-fra and his crew repair the Tien, Maja and Yaja, as well as work on the unfinished ships in the shipyard. He wondered at Hobie's lack of concern that his crew would take the pirate's technical secrets back to Star Fleet.

"Nah, go ahead. So StaFlet will have it two weeks before they'd discover it themselves." Hobie said one night in bed. "Me, I don't care. The person who will care is the Fleet designer who was just a millimeter from the innovation him- or herself."

It had never occurred to Albany that they would not return to the Federation. He did not know why but he trusted Hobie with his whole heart and mind, and lately, body.

As a general rule, Hobie disliked making love to weaker species because he had to hold back a little more than he liked. He had, however, become quite fond of Thomas Albany. There was a core of selfless integrity in the man that was very attractive to Hobie. Albany's grief over Maria Norris' death was genuine and Hobie had not eased it because he shared it himself. They had grown close in their admiration for that fine lady and they had come to love the admirable qualities in each other.

It occurred to Albany that he should be trying to arrest Hobie Talljet as an enemy of the Federation. However, he concluded that would be uncouth since he and his crew were, more or less, Hobie's guests. They were well treated and the only desire that was not fulfilled was that they head for home in some ship or other.

"I'll send you along in that big solar catamaran over there as soon as it's done up for deep space." Hobie told Albany when he asked about this.

'And when Sarek arrives you can take him with you,' Hobie thought to himself.

The Talljets had heard from Messrs. Yrit and Gvo, that they would be arriving with both 'goals accomplished' in 12 hours. This was very good news, the Talljets agreed happily.

* * *

"And when we arrive, Maja, what then?" Sarek asked a few hours later.

"Then we borrow some money from the lads and hit the road again," Maja said calmly. 'I hope it will be that simple,' he thought and turned to find Gvo's empty sad eyes on him. He turned away; if these 'persons' knew something unpleasant about his future, he was not interested.

* * *

Hobie suddenly decided that he didn't want Yrit and Gvo on Povarb and set off in the Dancer with Jir, Albany, the Shilo crew and the catamaran in tow. They would meet the bounty hunters six hours in advance and well away from the planet.

Ling would make the financial arrangements when he got the high sign from Hobie and Jir. He would have to hock a few things and dig deep down but Maja was worth it. Ling fully expected to be reimbursed by the House of Surak and had sent a note to that effect to T'Pau. He had not yet received a reply from the old woman.

Hobie, Jir, Oza-Tol and Neria-Tza stood waiting on the repressurized landing bay for the small ships doors to open. Yrit exited first, then Gvo and then Maja and Sarek.

The brothers noted that Maja and Sarek were extremely well shielded but attributed it to fending off the bounty hunters' energy.

"Any problems, Mr. Yrit?" Hobie asked quietly in Patois.

"No, none," Yrit informed him in the same.

"Your payment is being arranged in the usual manner. Thank you," Hobie turned away from them. "If you need fuel or supplies, please make arrangements with Oza-Tol or Neria-Tza.

"We have no needssss you can ssssatisssssfy," Gvo said with infuriating slowness.

"Good bye, then," Hobie turned away walked away from them.

The telepaths saw the hunters get in their ship before they, too, left the bay. Everyone heaved a sigh of relief when Mr. Yrit and Mr. Gvo's little ship disappeared from the scanners.

All except Sarek dropped their shields with a sigh of relief.

Jir pulled Maja into his arms. "Welcome home, Noli," he whispered in Patois. Feeling Maja stiffen in his arms, he stepped back to look at his younger brother.

Sensing something 'new' in Sarek and Maja, Hobie switched his vision from color and form to energy field and took a good look at them. He further switched down to emanations, found it less interesting, and switched back to energy field. He lowered his eyes and felt around at the bond between his younger brother and Sarek. He was not amused to find it. He raised his hand into a Vulcan salute.

"Live long and prosper, Sarek of Vulcan," Hobie snarled in Vulcan.

"Peace and long life, Hobie Talljet," Sarek answered mildly in Patois.

A shocked silence settled over the group except for Maja - he thought it was a splendid riposte to Hobie's snarl.

"I suppose you're tired, let's go find you a place to freshen up, shall we?" Jir said quietly to Maja and Sarek in Patois. He stared Hobie down and led them to the turbolift.

"Yes, an excellent idea," Hobie growled, still in Vulcan.

Maja knew that tone, it was bad news, and drew closer to Jir while maneuvering himself and his Nolo between Sarek and the eldest Talljet.

* * *

"It's a great honor to meet you, Ambassador Sarek," Albany said, a while later. "We should be en route to the Federation in a few hours."

"I do not wish to return to the Federation," Sarek told him quietly.

* * *

Maja had been called away by Jir and Hobie to discuss the future.

The elder Talljets had listened politely to Maja's story of bonding to Sarek in the healing, falling in love on Imk, becoming lovers, fleeing to Gyvrre, and wanting to stay together in nonaligned space.

"It's wonderful," Hobie said flatly. "I'm so happy for you. You and Sarek of Vulcan. Of course neither of you has any importance in your old spheres. You won't be missed at all by the Klingons and Federation diplomacy can get along just fine without Sarek..."

"Hobie," Jir broke in, "please, this is serious."

"Oh, Jir, I am as serious as a heart attack." Hobie turned back to Maja. "Do you know what's been happening since you walked into that prison on Rovirin?"

Maja shook his head and looked at Jir, who lowered his eyes.

"We lost Rovirin to Star Fleet," Hobie continued, deadly calm. "We lost it in the worst way possible. Commodore Yakolev grabbed the planet and dared the Federation Council not to vote it as a protectorate after the fact, which those whores very obligingly did. My old admirer Sdiz was with him."

v Maja looked up into Hobie's classical vulcanoid features. In their youth on Vulcan, when Hobie had rejected Sdiz's advances, that Vulcan had tried, almost successfully, to buy him from the cash strapped Sas. It had not been a pretty experience and there is an unconfirmed rumor that Sarek himself had intervened in some way on Hobie's behalf. Much speculation persists that this was the reason for Maja and Hobie's hasty departure from Vulcan a year or so later. Sdiz had then turned his unwelcome attentions to Jir and was rebuffed there as well for Jir's lover, Stonet. Sdiz must have been somewhat gratified to learn that Stonet later renounced Jir to pursue the life of Kolinahr in Gol.

"Since Sarek's illness that ruthless bastard, Sdiz, has become 'the' Vulcan Ambassador, very powerful and very chummy with Yakolev, whom you don't know, also a ruthless bastard.

"They started with Bharselis, then Olteiyva, then Mvisivgra, and now they have Rovirin. They are carving their own Zone along the outer edge of Klingon, Romulan, and Autonomous Zone space."

The strategist in Maja asserted itself. "Why? It's indefensible, Star Fleet will need thousands of warships to hold it."

"Only if they're opposed, Maj," Hobie said. "Kzijiet and Kroldt simply stepped aside when Yakolev 'nationalized' Rovirin."

Hobie looked into Maja's shocked face and paused to let that sink in.

"Because you were not there to point out to them their sacred duty to protect the rights and property of the most Holy Imperial Klingon Church," Hobie said very slowly and sat back. "Or us," he added sadly.

Maja closed his eyes to focus his energy and sort through these facts. He looked at Jir, who nodded 'yes, all true, alas.'

"Haven't I done enough for you?" Maja lashed at Hobie.

"What?" Hobie was truly taken aback by this.

"Haven't I done enough? I've lived with Klingons, I roamed the galaxy, I built cities with the Commune, I've fucked as many useful beings as I could find and all of it so we Talljets can have a peaceful place to live. When is it enough, Hobie? Now? How about now? I just want to live in peace with the man I love. I can still love, Hobie, I thought I couldn't love like that anymore but I can and I want to, forever. That's all I want."

"Maja..." Jir began uncertainly after a pause.

"It's not just me, Maja," Hobie broke in. "There are other people affected. Your children, my children, Jir's children, Maja the Rom (MajaKhat), Kalzat, Neria-Tza, Mizat, Qwuushi, ..."

"Can't they get along without me and Sarek?" Maja asked desperately.

"They depend on us Talljets and the communities we provide," Hobie said gently. "The needs of the many, Maja," he added, sensing victory at hand.

Maja buried his head in this hands: there are just some parts of a Vulcan education one never overcomes. But in that moment, feeling his love for Sarek making him strong, he pulled himself together and looked Hobie Talljet right in the eye:

"Fuck the many."

part 35

Because old habits die hard in old Vulcans, Maja found Sarek reading backward through Vulcan and Klingon news bulletins stored in the ship's.

"There is no news of Rovirin after Imstk's coup," he told Maja.

"No, Hobie tells me Star Fleet has muzzled it and the Klingons are too embarrassed to discuss it." Except for his identity and influence in the Empire, he told Sarek his entire conversation with Jir and Hobie.

"Indeed," Sarek said, rising to pace the room. "Do they know what Yakolev and Sdiz's motives are?"

"Power. They've established a line just inside Klingon space with almost no resistance. From there they can encroach further and further until the Klingons get their back to the wall and lash out. Unfortunately, by that time, Star Fleet will have a supply line and bases to strike from that will be unassailable. The Klingons are good fighters in the field but their logistics suck. They have to strike, get lucky, destroy the target and then run back to remote bases for supply and refit. There is no way they can take and hold territory the way things are now." Maja paused for breath. "Unless they develop a powerful ally with resources in that space." He added, watching Sarek.

"Like the Romulans."

"Or the pirates. Can you imagine what the Tziviians would do if they knew that their invasion paranoia was for real? They'd side with all the demons of hell and the Klingons." Maja sighed and looked at his hands, folded in his lap. "Yakolev and Sdiz know the Klingons but they don't know what else is in that space. The Tziviians, the Horva, the Xochitarians, and god knows what all will come into the Federation and fight god knows how. Let's not forget that creatures like Yrit and Gvo come from there, from Pholian and Cvmovia, via Magidrian. How can you fight something like that with starships? And that's, with the grace of god, leaving the Roms out of it."

"Then it must be avoided at all costs, Maja," Sarek said.

"Hobie and Jir claim there are no steady voices in the Federation or the Empire to avert catastrophe," Maja looked hard at Sarek. "Unless you go back, that is." He looked away, thinking back on his calmer conversation with Jir.

Hobie had stormed out after Maja's denigration of the many and, after the ozone of his rage cleared, Jir had leaned gently forward: "Yes, I agree, fuck the many, they have never really given a second thought for any of our happiness. They simply assume that everyday they will wake up and see the same faces, do the same things and plan for a future they are arrogant enough to expect. They have not lived as we have, we know the vicissitudes of the galaxy first hand, the caprice of fate and we have learned to live with it, even thrive in it. But there has never been an all out galactic war in our lifetimes, Maja, and if it were in my power to prevent one I would beg god for the strength and humility to do so."

Sarek lifted Maja's chin, "Then come with me."

"I cannot."

"Why?"

"My life is on a different path, Sarek, I thought I could hide from fate with you but that is not the case for either of us..."

"We will marry and live somewhere other than Vulcan, Maja, we need not hide from anything."

"You have never been an outcast, Sarek, you would not enjoy it. Even with me and I could not bear to be the cause of your suffering ..."

"I will suffer more without you."

"But it will be a quick, sharp suffering, over quickly and quickly forgotten. I assure you, you will not die although you might feel that is possible." He raised his hand to forestall the Vulcan. "The other is a slow, painful death, Vulcan. First our love will die of starvation, it cannot survive in a vacuum, and then we will grow to hate each other. You cannot love someone for whom you've renounced everything. There must be something familiar, something with history around lovers or only bitterness is sown for a harvest of grief."

"Then we will not return, my Maja."

"And if we are lucky enough to survive the coming war, won't you always wonder if you could have prevented it and grow to hate me because you did not? Because you stayed with me instead of ... instead of mending the fences Yakolev and Sdiz have kicked down?" Maja fought back his tears. "The needs of the many, Sarek, always outweigh the needs of the few. Like us."

It was a flawed, emotional argument Maja had made him but logical in its own way. Sarek sat down, searching for a rebuttal, but found nothing to say.

"Maja," he said, feeling as if he were stepping into an abyss. "Could we not meet later, in more peaceful times?"

Maja closed his eyes and tried to see the future but could not. "If that is god's will, then it will be so, Sarek," he said, hoping Sarek did not hear the despair in his voice.

"Will the link remain between us?"

"No. Over time and distance it would debilitate us. It also interferes with my link to my brothers, which is precious to me."

"Where will you go, Maja?"

"I don't know," he looked into Sarek's face. "But not to worry, you know Hobie, Jir and Ling would never let anything bad happen to me. Rest assured of that."

"Then I must learn to trust in god that you will return to me someday."

"Didn't you learn that in prison, on Imk, on Gyvrre?"

"I trusted only in you, Maja."

Maja rose, walked around the table and curled up in Sarek's lap. He hid his face in the Vulcan's neck and cursed the fate that had brought him such a love, only to demand that he renounce it.

They opened the link between them and lived in sublime resonance with each other for a few more hours.

At the end of that time, Maja called Hobie and Jir to sever the bond.

Hobie was gentle. He felt around at the roots of the bond in Maja and decided that it was too deep, to chaotic and would cause lasting trauma. He turned his attention to Sarek and found that the bond was equally deep but the manner in which it extended into his psychic terrain was more orderly and neater. He felt the Vulcan resisting and paused to allow the rebellion to subside. When it did, Hobie eased out the multiple tendrils of the bond and wound them neatly around Maja's telefield where they would eventually wither away for lack of the complimentary energy. Hobie gently but thoroughly wove together the hole in Sarek's shields the bond had made. When Hobie had finished he motioned Jir to take Sarek from the room. He turned to Maja, pale and shaking, and took him in his arms. He poured healing energy into Maja, soothed the pain of the severance as best he could. It was profound pain and Hobie suffered for his brother in spite of everything that had been said and done.

* * *

Sarek slumped against the wall of the turbolift. Jir put a hand on his elbow and sent a low current of energy into him.

"The link is gone but I still sense him inside me," Sarek said dully and stiffly in Vulcan.

"That might never leave you, Sarek," Jir sighed, cursing the linguistic restrictions of Vulcan. "If you had an emotional response to him because the link allowed you to feel the universal emotional response then the energy of that response has probably created a neural pathway that will disappear in time unless you keep it open with memory."

"I will not forget him, Jir," Sarek looked at the MageCheq. "You must keep him safe until I can return to him."

'Oh, Sarek,' Jir wept in his mind but simply nodded and guided Sarek to the transporter where Albany waited. The Shilo's crew was already on the catamaran.

Dolo-fra stood at the transporter control and hailed Jir in Patois: "Last one, Fara, goes well, eh?"

Sarek stopped dead and looked Jir in the eye: "I can no longer understand the Patois, Jir. It was the link, was it not?"

"Aye, the link...." Jir began.

"Sarek!" Maja careened through the doors and flung himself into Sarek's arms.

They held on to each other, as if they were the only solid objects in the universe.

"I have lost the Patois and you, Maja," Sarek murmured.

"Then listen through me, my love." Maja put his fingers in meld position and the gibberish around him sprang into coherence.

"...running out of time, Hobie," Dolo-fra was surprisingly calm. He felt sorry for Maja and Sarek but what could he do?

"I know, I know," Hobie growled, "another moment will not kill god."

Sarek leaned back from Maja and they kissed. It was a long, tender kiss and they put their whole selves into it, knowing its memory would have to last a long time.

/I love you I love you I love you/

Maja finally stepped back. He raised his hand in the Vulcan salute.

"Live long and prosper, Sarek of Vulcan," he said in his heavily Rom-accented Vulcan.

"Peace and long life, Maja Talljet, and .. and wait for me." Sarek could not remember when his throat had ever been so constricted.

He and Albany stepped up on the transporter platform. Sarek looked back into Maja's warm brown eyes until he rematerialized on the catamaran transporter platform where Maja was not.

Hobie and Jir helped Maja, sobbing, out of the transporter room and into his quarters. Hobie was uncomfortably reminded of another time when Maja had sobbed like this. The difference was that this time, Hobie felt responsible for his grief.

The ships parted ways: the catamaran to the Federation and the Dancer to rendezvous with Admiral KzostGhet of the Klingon Empire and his flagship, the KharaTienKha.

Part III

CONCERNING LONG AGO EVENTS ON MAGIDGRI

The first time Commodore KzostGhet of the Klingon Empire laid eyes on Maja of the Talljet Monastery of the Romulan Empire, he was sitting in a cafe in downtown Zoltir, on the wretched planet of Magidrian, dying of boredom - his usual occupation on this planet. Commodore Ghet was minding his own business, watching commerce in the bazaar and Maja was stealing Poblas (a Mage fruit deeply loathed by Klingons) and not doing very well at it. Everytime the little creature (they had not been introduced yet) got close to nabbing a Pobla, he found the vendor's eye on him and backed off. Wise; Zoltir vendors had few qualms about killing street boys that annoyed them.

The little creature was interesting: he had vulcanoid features topped by an unruly mop of dusty black curls. Huge brown eyes beneath a wide forehead and a pointed chin. He was wraith thin but fairly clean and looked, at a distance, healthy so he must live somewhere, deduced the Klingon.

'Further,' thought Kzost, 'I've seen him before, stealing in this very bazaar and he's good at it. Quick as lightening and smart, often creating a diversion. Going after Poblas is new and he hasn't got the hang of it yet. Last time he was stealing paper.

Kzost had thought it odd for a street boy to steal anything he couldn't eat but this was an odd planet. He knew, he was the Governor of the Klingon Colony here.

Kzost loathed the assignment, it was punishment for being more successful than a certain member of the Yhet clan. Magidrian was a strange planet. Hot, dusty, mountainous. Its people lived in fortified settlements in the mountains and seldom had any contact with those trying to civilize them. The party of soldiers Kzost had sent to the largest settlement to bring the leaders down to Zoltir by force had returned with its tail between its legs. They had come within sight of the keep when they were all struck down with blinding headaches and vomiting.

Unimpressed, Kzost had gone himself with another party and had exactly the same humiliating experience. He had given serious thought to going up to his orbiting ship and simply knocking the fortress off the mountainside. He was still debating this plan when, several days later, in this very cafe, a tall, beautiful Mage in a pale gray robe had joined him at his table. Kzost was taken aback by this, the Mage did not approach strangers and obviously didn't allow strangers to approach them.

"What did you want the other day?" the Mage bluntly asked in Klingon.

"What d'ya mean?" parried the wary Klingon.

The Mage simply stared at him. Kzost realized he was had: "I want to talk to your leaders. There are agreements to be made, claims to be settled, many things to discuss."

"This is of no interest to us."

Kzost was annoyed by this answer.

"Why not?" he snarled.

"We do not care what you do here until you leave so there is no point in involving ourselves with you."

"And what makes you think you can make us leave?" Kzost asked, ignoring the memory of his retreat from the mountain keep.

The Mage had humanoid features of such purity and symmetry he projected a strange serenity. What he was actually doing was allowing all the Klingon's psychic energy to wash over him, analyzing it, categorize it, file it and project it back. The Mage couldn't speak Klingon but he could glean enough from the object of his scrutiny to communicate. He looked over the bazaar. It was full of off-worlders that had come in the wake of these latest settlers, to cater to their needs and wants. Soon, they would all be gone and it would be as if they never were.

"We will not make you leave; you will decide to go yourselves."

"Why's that?" Kzost blustered but he was feeling shaken by the Mage's calm. His liver was bothering him into the bargain.

"What have you found here that you want badly enough to stay?" The Mage gazed peacefully into his eyes.

'Nothing,' thought Kzost. 'Absolutely nothing.' He looked out at the bazaar. He felt the Mage's hand take hold of his wrist. He swung round for a fight but stopped when the grip tightened.

'These Mage are strong bastards,' he thought. Kzost looked into the Mage's eyes and then began to feel physically better, as if all his aches and pains and over indulgence in food and drink were being washed away.

The Mage let him go.

"You don't want to be here, Klingon. That is sensible since there is nothing here for you but annoyance." The Mage was thoughtful. "You do," he continued, "have some things to do here before you leave and you will not leave until they are done."

"And what are these things?" Kzost sneered, he hated prophets.

"You will know them after you've done them." The Mage rose.

"Very helpful. By the way, how did you know I'd be here? Are your spies everywhere?"

The Mage smiled; it was a kind and amused smile but sent chills down Kzost's back anyway.

"I remembered yesterday that I would find you here today. As I remember now that you will soon meet someone who will change your life for the better. You will also be rid of what you now think is a thorn in your side but when it is lost you will weep with grief."

Kzost stood, ready to attack. The Mage was calm.

"You are a good man, KzostGhet, and this will bring you some consolation in your life whether you want it or not." He walked into the crowd and disappeared.

Kzost had been thinking on this when he noticed the little creature.

'If the Mage can see the future... ,' he was thinking for the nth time. He frowned. He could never get beyond that. Did he want to know the future? No, not really. Would it be a blessing or curse? He couldn't see that this power, if they had it, was doing the Mage any good. But that was because he never saw the Mage, they kept so completely to themselves. Except for a few decrepit specimens that stayed drugged and prowled the streets late at night.

'Perhaps that's what knowing the future does to some of them,' he mused. That and having no women. At least, none that he could find. He truly hated this planet.

And so, to take his mind off of all this, he decided to give the little creature a hand. Kzost rose up, knocking his table over and grabbed one of the Xochian waiters by the lapel.

"THIS IS THE WORST TEA I'VE HAD IN MY LIFE" he roared, dragging the poor man to the edge of the bazaar. He winked at the little creature whose big eyes got even bigger.

"I'll get you ANOTHER" the waiter squeaked.

"YOU'RE TOO FUCKING LATE" and he flung the poor man into the poblas stand, sending fruit rolling in all directions. He caught a flying glimpse of the little creature filling his raggedy shirt and flashing him a killer smile before darting away in the confusion.

Kzost smiled himself, leaned down and set the waiter on his feet.

"Really, waiter, you must be more careful," he drawled to the confused being before him. "And you, vendor," he turned to another confused being. "Take this," he tossed some coins on the ground, at least twice the cost of what Maja had stolen. "And get your stand fixed. It falls over too easily."

He paid his bill, gave the waiter a generous tip and strolled off with a lighter heart.

The waiter and vendor stared after him and shook their heads. Klingons. What can you do?

Someone else had witnessed the whole scene and was drawing a different conclusion.

A Vulcan expatriate named Voren had watched the entire episode from across the bazaar and had found it fascinating. Allegedly a linguist, possibly a spy but in truth something more unusual - he was simply a Vulcan who couldn't stand living in the confines of Surakian Vulcan culture. So he roamed from planet to planet, occasionally studying the local languages and writing monographs on them but mostly just being and watching life go by. This was almost unheard of in Vulcans, they seldom left their planet or their culture or if they did they dragged it along with them, the culture, that is.

Klingons, on the other hand, could not wait to get out of Klingon culture. Unless one were a member of the ruling families there, the Haats or the Yhets, one's prospects on the Klingon homeworld were mediocre, if not simply bad. The Haats and the Yhets fought over who controlled the Imperial clan, the Tzaj, and reaped considerable rewards from this struggle. The Tzaj clan played both ends against the middle with varying degrees of success. For Klingons not of these clans, life on the homeworld was stifling. This fact engendered a powerful desire in sensible Klingons to get as far away from home as possible and get as much of whatever they wanted elsewhere. As they say, it's a big galaxy, go out there and get some of it.

Voren, SaVoren being his full family name, felt a certain sympathy for the Klingons and not the usual Vulcan aversion. However, like all smart Vulcans he usually steered clear of them as the Klingons were still rather touchy that the Vul/Klong war was fought to a standstill. There were among the Klingons those who would like to finish it - one way or another.

He was therefore somewhat puzzled by Governor Kzost's behavior: why help the street boy steal when he could buy the entire bazaar for him? Illogical and an inefficient use of time and energy. Voren would have like to have discussed it with the Governor but he had no way to approach him. So he mused about it to himself while trying to overhear two vendors arguing in the Patois.

The Vulcan was trying to make sense out of a creole language that he'd been hearing in bazaars for the past 15 years. It seemed to be spoken by traders mainly and spread due to necessity - for a common barter code and for secrecy. Voren had only observed it spoken by telepathic and empathic species. He had so far only catalogued a few words, such as 'cheq' for half, 'oli' for little, 'olo' for big or bigger, 'Rom' for Romulan or really any vulcanoid, 'Klong' for Klingon, 'Mage' for Magidrian, 'Ter' or 'Hmu' for any humanoid that was not a Mage, and a very strange expression: 'hochofedra' which meant any number of things like 'let's try it', 'don't try it', 'oh well', 'I'll think about it (but not much)' and is always accompanied by a shrug. It was very challenging because verbalizations were modified by gestures, intonation and the subject. And were subject to change if the object of his observations decided Voren was understanding too much. Being a telepathic language, speakers of some acquaintance sometimes dispensed with forms and merely keened at each other to mark the duration of the communication. This made family groups and tribes impossible to study.

Magidrian appeared to be the source of the Patois. None of Voren's informants knew why; its origin on the planet was shrouded in mystery. The real reason for this was not very interesting to the Magidrians. However, it was significant for their visitors and the children they had with these visitors.

The Mage had developed a sophisticated culture in the dim past, had space traveled, time traveled and unraveled the mysteries of the universe and from this they had concluded two things: There is no such thing as time, and only the tiny portion of beings in the universe that did not know this came to Magidria (and, by the way, some of them were interesting enough to breed with when the retro urge to assume a physical manifestation took this or that Mage).

Being long-lived in bodies when they chose to be so and able to see into the future because time had no boundaries for them, the Mage had withdrawn to their mountains to contemplate the oneness of the universe and ignore into nonexistence the successive waves of aliens who came to civilize them, gave up and left in a huff. Apparently the telepathic energy was so intense on the planet itself that the Patois had developed along two lines: the first, being that telepaths need not use the entire word so words from various languages were truncated, such as cheq which in Bosq would be tolmacheqa for half of something. The second, being that the ability to see part of the future (as beings such as Hmus, Roms and Klongs understand it) is enhanced over a period of residence. Hence Kzost's boredom, Voren's continuous logical outcomes and the survival of the abandoned Talljet monks on the hill that should have starved long ago but didn't because somehow they knew where the next meager meal would be found. This ability to see into the short term future also meant that the listener already knew what the speaker was going to say and the vocalization and gesture were merely a formality.

When the speakers and listeners finally left Magidria in despair of ever making sense of the Mage or making a profit, the prophetic ability was lost (unless they are genetically half Mage and then it's only diminished) but the language code remained and had evolved over the centuries as the Magidrian Patois. Used by nomads, outcasts, traders, pirates, artists, slaves - anyone with telepathic ability and a need to communicate discreetly with diverse groups.

The Mage themselves could care less what aliens took from their planet when they left as long as they left eventually.

And now, because the Klingon Kzost and his Bird of Prey could do some serious material damage before leaving, the Mage found they could not ignore the current residents of Zoltin any longer. A council was held and it was decided that the monks the Roms had left behind were harmless, the Terrans were mostly harmless, the traders in the bazaar were useful and harmless but the Klingons were an unknown. Therefore, one of their number went into the chaos of being, sought out the Klingon Kzost and learned what was needed: Klingons - mostly harmless unless you startle them, they, like the Hmus and Roms, would kill each other before they would get to the Mage. And if they wished to blast some landscape, it was not important. There was no thing of importance in the material plane for the Mage. So they went back to ignoring the aliens, all of them, knowing that eventually they would leave and wonder why they ever wanted to be on Magidria in the first place. All except the Talljet monks, who would leave to find their god.

Voren, however, did not know all this and was merely trying to decode a language he couldn't understand. He was also stuck there, no ships he could get passage on were coming or going due to a war in the Aliterius system. So he had the leisure to contemplate illogical Klingon behavior.

He recalled seeing the street boy before, in this bazaar with another boy, stealing food. He had marveled at their ability. He now wondered if the little creature had enough sense to realize he had a potential patron in the Klingon and to exploit it.

'We shall see,' the Vulcan thought, 'we shall see.'

part 36

Several days later, Kzost found himself sitting in the same cafe waiting for something and he hated it. It was the worst part of life on this planet, knowing that something was going to happen and finding yourself waiting for it. He hated it almost as much as he hated the monks on the hill.

There they were, the symbol of Romulan colonization, dug in and pre-dating the Klingons by ten years. It was an affront to Klingons that the Roms sent their priests to colonize and the Klingons sent their soldiers. The Klingon religious establishment clucked their collective tongue about this but it never occurred to them, in those days, that they might send their priests to civilize the native populations. The Church was too busy influencing events at court to be bothered with off-world matters.

Kzost did not really care, he knew the monks were harmless, but he was nagged by Hierophant Kiba to get rid of them. They represented the Hierophant's worst nightmare: pagan Roms. So Kzost assured the Hierophant that the pagan Roms were under close surveillance and action would be taken at the first available moment. He'd been saying this for a year, perhaps soon he'd believe it himself.

So he sat waiting for whatever it was and was rewarded for his patience. The little creature marched up to his table and sat opposite him.

They eyed each other. The boy waved his hand at the Poblas vendor and said, in Standard: "Thank you."

"You are welcome," Kzost muttered in Standard, trying to hide his surprise that a MageCheq street boy knew two Standard words.

The waiter rushed over, horrified to see a street boy annoying the Governor and was shaken like a rag doll by the same Governor when he tried to remove the aforementioned offending street boy, who looked calmly on.

"Bring whatever street boys like to eat and drink, waiter," Kzost ordered when he'd finished shaking him. The waiter staggered off, wondering how soon he could get off this planet.

"I am KzostGhet," he said in Romulan, quietly, not wanting to be overheard.

"I am Maja," the boy answered in careful Rom, as if he were just learning it.

'All Roms are named Maja,' thought Kzost.

The waiter put a slice of cake and some tea in front of Maja. Maja looked at the cake for a moment as if measuring it, cut off what appeared to be a fourth and devoured it. He wrapped the rest in a napkin and put it in his lap. He sipped some tea and smiled at the Klingon.

The Klingon was, at that moment, trying to understand a series of emotions he'd never previously experienced because he'd never fallen in love before. Like most Klingons, he didn't know you could fall in love all at once with a street boy named Maja. It was not an idea covered in even the best Klingon education. So Kzost was rather pleasantly confused and tried to cover it by calling the long-suffering waiter: "Bring the entire cake and a container."

Maja looked into the box and appeared to like what he saw. He unwrapped the first piece of cake and stuffed the whole thing into his mouth, smiling at the Klingon all the while, enjoying himself thoroughly. He sipped some tea, stood and picked up the cake container. He waved at the table and said: "Thank you" again, in Standard, this time with a little bow.

'Adorable.' Kzost was as enchanted as Klingons get. "You are welcome," he said in Standard and then added in Rom, "Where do you live?"

Maja thought about this for a moment and then jerked his chin at the Talljet monastery on the hill. He darted down the road, heading for home. Kzost put his chin in his hand. 'Of all the places for you to live, why must you live with those pagan Roms?'

"You look troubled, Klingon." Kzost looked up sharply as words spoken in Klingonese with a Vulcan accent will cause Klingons to look up.

"Who are you?"

"SaVoren."

"What do you want?"

"To know in what language that street boy spoke to you."

"Why?"

"Because I heard him speaking Patois yesterday." The Vulcan waited.

"We spoke Standard." Kzost considered that to be enough truth for this conversation.

"How can he know Standard?"

"He knows how to say 'thank you'" Kzost rose, paid and left the Vulcan in deep thought.

SaVoren had a theory that the Mage could read language telepathically from whomever was in their vicinity. He'd noticed the boy near two of the Terrans in the bazaar yesterday. Had he gleaned what he needed? However, if his theory was correct, why hadn't he spoken Klingonese to Kzost?

There were two reasons why Maja spoke Standard and Rom to Kzost: First, the linguistic concept of thanks in Klingonese is so complex that he could not figure it out in Kzost's telefield so was forced to use the words he'd picked up from the little pink slugs (bazaar slang for Terrans) and second, Kzost spoke to him in Rom and it would be impolite not to answer in Rom.

SaVoren stood puzzling over this, so lost in thought he did not see Kzost return until the Klingon was standing on top of him.

"I need you," he said to the astonished Vulcan.

* * *

"Oh the boy? Don't you mean the boys? There are four of them: Hobie, Jir, Maja and Ling. We found them living at the bottom of our garden two years ago. Too young to be out like that and winter coming so we moved them in. Although we can hardly feed ourselves, they haven't been a drain on the resources, in fact little Maja brought me a very small piece of very good cake yesterday. No idea where he got it. Why are you asking about them? Have they done something?"

Father Polmira, the abbot, leaned back in his chair, exhausted by the effort of speaking Klingonese and wondering why this Rom preferred to speak it (but he was too polite to ask). A strange life, this one we live now.

"No. I've just noticed one of them here and there and wondered how he came to live here." Voren stood, thankful he and the old man had a common language. "Where did you learn your Klingonese?"

"When I was a youth, Klingon was a mandatory language because the Roms and Klongs were going to rule the galaxy together in the RomKlong Empire. Since then there have been two Rom/Klong wars, a Rom princess disgraced and an heir rejected. But I can still decline Klingon nouns and rather enjoy Klingon folk tales. Politics does not change knowledge and vice versa."

Voren nodded, returned the abbot's bow and left.

* * *

"They have no family, the monks took them in and no one gets enough to eat there," Voren said bluntly to the Klingon in Klingonese - an excellent language for bluntness.

Kzost was silent.

"There are four," the Vulcan continued, "Hobie, Jir, Maja and Ling. I don't know the ages. I've seen your boy..."

"Maja."

"... Maja, in the bazaar with an older boy but I don't know if it was Hobie or Jir."

Kzost was lost in thought. He looked up: "Thank you," he said in Standard and walked away.

The next day he arranged for a sack of tolin grain and a sack of dried mzotheim bean meal to be delivered anonymously to the monastery on a weekly basis.

Kzost continued to watch Maja from the cafe. Sometimes Maja would sit with him and eat cake, always taking three-fourths home to his brothers. Occasionally Kzost would speak briefly to the Vulcan, who told him that upon revisiting the abbot with a sack of tolin grain as a gift, the abbot told him that god was leaving sacks of grain and meal in their garden every week. How kind of Voren to bring yet another sack of grain, very helpful with winter coming on and four growing boys to feed.

Although he still hated the planet, Kzost was more content to be stuck there as long as he could sit in his cafe and watch Maja Talljet, as he had come to think of him, live.

* * *

Voren found himself more interested in the doings of the children from the Talljet monastery than he wanted to be. He kept an eye on the older ones, Hobie, Jir and Maja when they were in the bazaar. He saw them occasionally bring little Ling to see the wonders of commerce but seldom because he was still very young. He watched them haggle for what they had money for, which was little, mainly the change Kzost gave Maja when they met, and steal what they could not buy.

'Fleet,' Voren thought with admiration, staying out of their eyeline so as to avoid detection. 'And smart.'

Until one day Voren saw Maja get caught stealing a book of paper. The trader had laid open the child's back with three blows from an animal whip before he could intervene. Maja was still clutching his prize when Voren gathered him up, bleeding and unconscious, the child had fainted after the first blow. The Vulcan ran out of the bazaar and to the Star Fleet Scientific Mission #86-543 where he knew there were doctors. He met Dr. MacQuarrie half way there and they ran the rest of the way together. He did not notice the oldest of the four boys, Hobie, following them as unobtrusively as a shadow.

James MacQuarrie had seldom seen injured children in his line of work but it was obvious the little boy was badly hurt. The lash marks were all the way across the little back and so deep he could see traces of pale bone through the turquoise blood. They would be excruciating for a grown man, no wonder the child had fainted at the first whip fall.

"What kinda monster beats a child like this?" he raged at Voren.

"One that no longer wishes the child to live, I suspect," Voren answered dryly, examining MacQuarrie's shocked face. "It was the trader's intention to kill Maja for stealing from him. That's what happens here." 'And most elsewhere outside the Federation,' he added silently.

Dr. Romsky held the door for them. "I saw you coming. Paul is scrubbed and waiting in the lab. Do you know what drugs we can use for the pain?" he asked, following them into the building. "What's that book in his hands?" He did not see the shadow drift round the building, peeking into the windows along the group's progress.

Voren laid Maja on a long white table and stepped back as Paul Duvallier moved forward to examine and clean the wounds. The doctors could not get the book out of Maja's hands so they left it.

Dr. Duvallier would later tell his colleagues on Terra that they learned almost nothing of Magidrian physiology on that mission because they never examined one. Maja was a close as they got. This being the case and not knowing what else to do, Duvallier, MacQuarrie and Romsky simply washed the dirt out of the furrows in Maja's back with purified water, applied pressure until the bleeding stopped and taped the cuts together with a sterile adhesive tape. Maja did not know it at the time but three of the Federation's foremost scientific minds were helpless to do more for him than clean his wounds and hope he did not die of shock. After scanning to ascertain that he had no internal injuries and that his unconsciousness was normal, the offworlders left him to sleep in peace for a moment while they conferred on his future treatment.

Hobie broke the window pane to get in. He placed his hands on Maja's back and was dismayed that the cuts did not disappear completely but simply turned to ugly teal scars. Nevertheless, the healing energy woke Maja enough for Hobie to get him out the window and away from the strange white place.

Finding their patient gone, the Terran doctors turned helplessly to Voren, who promised them he would do his best to find the child.

"Does the little one have a name?" MacQuarrie asked Voren at the door.

"Yes," the Vulcan turned to go.

MacQuarrie, unused to Vulcans, ran after him when he realized that was all the answer that particular question would elicit.

"Well, sir," he said, catching up to Voren. "I meant what is the child's name?"

"Maja," Voren said simply and continued up the hill to the monastery.

'Maja,' MacQuarrie mused on his way back to the lab, 'a very pretty name indeed.'

Half way there a huge Klingon in full battle dress lifted him off the ground by his lapels.

"WHERE IS MAJA?!"

* * *

"When I arrived at the monastery and explained the situation, Father Polmira showed me where the Talljets sleep and there was Maja, sleeping as if nothing had happened to him. Hobie told me he'd taken Maja away from the lab because he didn't know those 'little pink slugs,' referring to the Terrans, and he could see that, even though they were trying to help, they were useless." Voren paused in his grammatically correct Klingonese to sip the tea the Xochian waiter placed in front of him.

"May I bring you something else, sir?" the waiter queried politely.

"NOOOOOOOO!" Kzost snarled and chased him off with a scowl.

"Perhaps later," Voren called after his fellow vulcanoid. "At any rate," he continued, "I checked Maja's back and it was 85% healed. He will bear the scars for the rest of his life ....."

Kzost thought back on his healing encounter with the gray-robed Mage, wondering how empaths, even half empaths, could be scarred.

"... but apparently will survive. I saw him in the bazaar later, drawing on the pad he stole from the vendor." 'The one that almost killed him,' Voren reminded himself. "Hobie was keeping watch nearby. How did you hear about it so quickly?" he added.

"One of my men saw it happen," Kzost said. "And followed you to the Terran's laboratory. It was wise of you to take him there, Vulcan. My man thought he was dead."

"I thought he might die, there was very little the doctors could do for him, they know so little about these people."

"The Mage or the mongrel street urchins? If they want to learn something, they might start studying and treating the worst of the flotsam and jetsam in the bazaar instead of stepping over it everyday."

"The Klingons might do the same."

"Bah! Real Klingons confine their charity to stupid street boys named Maja."

"Hardly stupid, Commodore."

"Very stupid, Vulcan, I'd give Maja the money for anything he wanted in the bazaar but he never wants things for himself. Last time we went shopping it was all for his brothers and a little box of colored chalks for him. Oh and a warm shawl for Father Polmira. He steals because he likes the challenge of it. Hence, he is stupid." Kzost drank some tea and flagged the waiter, who moved cautiously to his side. "What will you have, Voren? You must accept my hospitality because you have saved my Maja and my Klingon heart would be broken if he were dead."

'And every trader in the bazaar would also be dead,' Voren thought, regretting he'd told Kzost which trader had attacked Maja. The Klingon had simply excused himself, found the trader and strangled him before his colleagues as a warning that Maja and his brothers were not to be touched.

Voren accepted a slice of the cake Maja liked so much and said good-bye, explaining that he wished to visit Father Polmira and the Talljets.

Kzost screamed for the waiter to pack up all the cake he had and give it to the Vulcan.

Voren thought this was very considerate of the Klingon in a noisy sort of way and went up the hill to the monastery. Maja and Jir were out but he had a nice chat with Father Polmira, fed Ling some cake and had a few words with Hobie, who was dusting the altar.

"No more stealing in the bazaar for Maja or any of you, Hobie, I cannot be sure to be there next time."

Hobie nodded.

"The Klingon or I will buy you and your brothers what you need there."

Hobie nodded.

"Are you understanding me, Hobie?"

Hobie nodded.

"Well. Good." Voren did not have much experience with children so he could only hope what he said had penetrated. "Then, good-bye, Hobie." He turned to go and almost missed Hobie's farewell.

"Godspeed, Rom. Thank you."

* * *

"You know!" Maja was struggling to make himself understood in Standard to Dr. Castaris at the lab. "The Rom that brought me here when I was hurt."

"A Rom?" Castaris was stunned by the child's ability in Standard. "What Rom?"

"The Rom that brought me here when I was hurt!" Maja wondered if all little pink slugs were this stupid.

Jir watched from the shadows, amused and wary at the same time.

"You were hurt?" Castairs was starting to snap out of it. "Are you the boy that was hurt?"

"YES!" Maja said, exasperated. "Yes, I was hurt and the Rom brought me here. I want you to give him this for me." He shoved the smudged book of paper he'd stolen at Castairs. Every page now had a Maja drawing on it; the bazaar, the monastery, his brothers, the monks, the Klingons, the brothels, the Terran's laboratory, some ruins, etc. - all the familiar people, places and things in Zoltir Maja had seen in his short life.

Castairs took the book and promised he would give it to the right person.

Maja flung a 'thank you' over his shoulder and darted away with Jir. It was nearly dinnertime in the Monastery and they were hungry.

Castairs watched them disappear into the twilight and took the book to his desk. He spent the rest of the evening engrossed in it and marveling that a child could draw so well. The next day, with MacQuarrie's help, he found Voren in the bazaar and gave him the book.

Voren showed it to Kzost, who decided not to be too jealous of Maja's gift to the Vulcan. After all, Maja was still alive to give such gifts thanks to this Vulcan. Maja eventually gave Kzost a bigger and better book of drawings with colors when he finally figured out that the old Klingon wanted one.

Maja's back healed but the scars remained in spite of Jir and Hobie's best efforts to heal them.

Life rolled on peacefully for everyone until the twin devils of greed and cruelty took possession of Major KrisaBhign of the Magidrian garrison.

* * *

Kzost strongly discouraged slavers from visiting the Klingon controlled areas of Magidrian. Of the old school, Kzost accepted the ancient tradition of slavery on Klingon as normal and natural and all other forms as barbaric.

The more modern school of thought, as represented by Major Krisa, was that money was money and selling native children into slavery was just another form of commerce. The unfortunate children his calculating eye fell upon were Hobie and Jir, who had, even by this time, grown into astonishing beauties.

Krisa sent a holopic of them to a Cisivdrian slaver named Mxt with whom he'd done some business before. A price was negotiated and a date of delivery set. The slaver himself would come to Magidrian to collect the goods if they proved as fine as their pics represented them.

The cruel demon in Krisa prompted him, on the night of the delivery, to burn the monastery to the ground and murder all the monks as a diversion for kidnapping Hobie and Jir. He knew he would be praised for this pious act against the pagan Roms by the Hierophant Kiba and would meet no resistance from Commodore Kzost. They were only pagan Roms and street boys so who cared what happened to them?

On the night of the attack, the elder Talljets had fought like mad things but were subdued by superior Klingon strength but gently so as not to damage the merchandise. In the confusion, Maja slipped away. Ling could not be pried off Jir so Krisa simply took him along to a cell in the garrison annex to await the slaver. It is unknown whether Maja saw the monks and Father Polmira murdered; he refuses to discuss it.

Maja flew through the night streets to Kzost's heavily guarded mansion. Tracking the old Klingon by his shadow, Maja slipped through a fence, eluded the guards and climbed a tree to get into Kzost's bedroom. He threw himself on the sleeping Klingon and pounded on his face with his little fists until the giant awoke.

v Kzost claims it was Maja's tears that woke him, each one was like a death wail on his skin. He rolled the child under him and looked into his eyes, aroused in spite of his best intentions.

"Maja?"

"Help me, Klingon, help me, for god's sake. Klingons took my brothers," Maja sobbed.

Kzost rose to his feet and looked out at the smoldering ruins of the monastery. A chill ran up his spine. He flung on some clothes and weapons, calling for his escort, and slung Maja on one hip.

"Took them where, Maja? Show me." He carried Maja down the stairs and into a vehicle. They followed the trail Maja, his eyes looking inward, showed them and they soon stopped before a decrepit building used by the garrison to store surplus furniture and confine drunken corporals.

Maja guided Kzost to the cell area where Krisa was just collecting his price for Hobie and Jir, plus a bonus for such quality goods, from Mxt.

"Major Krisa," Kzost said menacingly and let Maja down. "Why are these children here?"

Maja shoved the slaver out of his way ran into the cell where his brothers huddled in a corner. Except for Ling, who was fortunately sound asleep.

"I have taken them into protective custody while the pagan Roms are excised from this planet," Krisa said pompously, knowing Kzost's feelings about offworld slavery.

Kzost looked Hobie in the eye and Hobie swung his eyes up to the slaver.

"And who is this person?" Kzost asked, looking at Mxt.

There was a long awkward silence.

"Ah," Kzost continued after a moment. "Well, I have had an interest in the welfare of these children for some time now so, I thank you, Krisa, I will take them into my own 'protective custody.' So get the fuck out of the way, Major."

Krisa didn't move; he really needed the money from this sale and killing the Commodore, his escort, Maja, Ling, the Talljet monks, really anyone, seemed reasonable to him at the moment.

As if sensing Krisa's thought, Kzost drew his blaster and killed him as his escort killed Krisa's men. He then turned the weapon on the slaver and asked his business here.

"Ummmm," Mxt said, watching his 'goods' hop over Krisa's body and huddle behind Kzost.

"Slaver," whispered Hobie.

"A slaver, well, what an interesting line of work. And just what did you pay Krisa for these three."

The slaver told Kzost that it was only for the older two and named a huge sum.

"And you would get four times that on Orion just for one of them. Perhaps five times that for one with a little special training, no?"

The slaver did not deny it.

"And had you paid Krisa yet?"

The slaver said yes.

"Then go and don't come back. Tell your slaver scum friends to stay the fuck off Magidrian or I'll kill them," Kzost growled, "slowly," he added.

"My money, I want .."

"You get to leave here with your life, slaver," Kzost said, sighting down his blaster at the slaver's right shoulder. "Go, now or you might be leaving one or two limbs behind."

The slaver took this seriously and scurried out.

Kzost turned Krisa's body over with his foot and kicked at the uniform pockets until he found the bag of dilithium crystals. He put it in his own pocket and ushered the children out of the shed.

"Make sure the bodies aren't found," he murmured to the leader of his escort and trusted friend, Captain KhatanyaDhin, as he shepherded the Talljets to his car.

Inside the car, the children huddled around Kzost as much for warmth as for the security they felt next to his huge Klingon body. For the rest of their lives the Talljets would associate rescue, safety and security with the smell of big Klingon males.

part 37

SaVoren and the Terran doctors found no one to save at the Talljet monastery. Castaris divided his doctors into two groups: one stayed at the monastery to bury the monks and in hopes that the boys would come out from hiding and the other went into town to look for them. The doctors had grown quite fond of the Talljets as they had come to call Hobie, Jir, Maja and Ling.

Seeing the monks' bodies would be properly disposed of, Voren went straight to Kzost's mansion and had an argument with the Klingon on gate duty.

"Will you just tell Commodore Kzost that I want to know if he knows where the Talljets are," Voren patiently explained for the fifth time. "Please," he added.

"Commodore Kzost is not to be disturbed."

"He will want to be disturbed by this," Voren insisted.

"Commodore Kzost is not to be disturbed."

Voren almost despaired. "Look, this is very important. I must speak to Commodore Kzost this instant."

"Commodore Kzost is not to be disturbed."

Even Voren's Vulcan patience had reached its limit.

"Is there a problem here, Ensign?" Khatanya strolled up to the gate.

"This Rom wants to see Commodore Kzost and can't understand 'No,' sir," the sluggard ensign replied.

Khatanya looked Voren over. "I've seen you but I don't know you. What's your business here?"

"I want to know if Kzost knows where the Talljets are," Voren said again.

"Commodore Kzost is not ...," the ensign began.

"Yes, yes, we know, Ensign, we know," Khatanya cut him off and turned to Voren. "Well, you look harmless; come up to the house with me." He waved the gate open and the Vulcan to his side.

They walked up to the house in silence. Khatanya led the Vulcan inside and up a flight of stairs. He asked him to wait outside a heavily guarded door and had a few words with someone inside. Khatanya stuck his head out and gestured Voren to enter.

Kzost was pacing in front of a fire in what Voren assumed was the Klingon's extravagant bedroom. Fur rugs, a huge curtained bed, wall hangings, paintings and massive intricately carved furniture were arranged with a pleasing Vulcanesque simplicity. But Voren had things other than decor on his mind.

"Do you know where the Talljet boys are?" he asked with Vulcan bluntness.

"They're taking a bath," Kzost answered, equally blunt. "In there," he gestured to the bathroom behind his guest. "Brandy, Vulcan? You look like shit."

"Yes, I will," Voren said, distracted by Hobie standing at the bathroom door, wrapped in a towel. Voren stepped nearer to look into the child's haunted eyes. "What happened, Hobie?"

Hobie looked at Kzost, who nodded and shrugged at the same time.

"Some Klingons came and took us," Hobie said awkwardly in Klingon. "They took me and Jir and Ling. Maja got away. Later, Maja brought Kzost and we came here." Sensing Kzost would not want Voren to know about it, Hobie omitted the violence he and his brothers had witnessed.

Voren sipped his brandy as he waited for Hobie to continue and said, "I see" when the boy did not continue.

"Are they dead?" Hobie asked at length. "Father Polmira and the monks? Are they dead?"

"Yes, Hobie, they're dead," Voren said quietly.

Hobie looked at the carpet for a moment to master himself. He had not cried in a long time, he had almost forgotten how to do it, but he thought he might cry for those old men. But later; there were more important things to do now.

"Then the bodies must be ...," he began.

"The Terrans are burying them," Voren interrupted. "Tomorrow I'll take you and show you."

Hobie nodded and turned back into the bathroom.

"Can you keep them here tonight, Kzost?" Voren asked, finishing his brandy and accepting another.

"That was my intention, Vulcan," Kzost said, pouring for him. "What did you find at the monastery?"

"Slaughter," Voren said flatly, looking the Klingon in the eye.

"I didn't do it, Voren," Kzost calmly assured him.

"No, I did not think so. Who did?"

"Someone who was suddenly called away on urgent business," Kzost rumbled, exchanging looks with Khatanya, who echoed 'very urgent business.'

"I'm sorry about those old men," Kzost continued. "They were ... harmless ... and they were looking after the Talljets and Maja liked them, he told me that once. He thought they were funny - they made him laugh." Kzost paused, wondering what would ever make Maja laugh again. He further wondered what exactly he was going to do with these four half Mage children tomorrow. This had not occurred to him in the rush of the evening.

They were distracted by two Klingons bearing a mattress and blankets. Khatanya directed them to put it all near the fire.

"Look, Voren," Kzost said, suddenly feeling how tired he was. "I'll keep the Talljets tonight. They can make a nest over there and they'll be safe here, I promise you. For us, for now - will you please come back in the morning when we can discuss the future or whatever you like."

The Vulcan hesitated, where would he put the children even if he could get them out of here? Also, he trusted Kzost, if not the Klingons around him and, more importantly, the Talljets trusted Kzost.

"Yes, I'll return in the morning," Voren said, tired himself and wanting to tell the Terrans to stop looking for the children. "I've promised Hobie I'd take him and his brothers to see how the monks are buried so I will come early."

"I shall await you, Vulcan," Kzost said suavely.

Voren bowed and left him, musing on how the Klingon would react to the knowledge that those are some of the sexiest words a Vulcan could hear.

"I'll leave word you're to be admitted," Khatanya told him at the gate. "If you have any problems give the guard this." He handed Voren his card. "And have them find me; I'll be around. Night, Vulcan." The Captain turned and strode up the path, his cape swinging behind him.

Voren put the card in his pocket and wondered yet again what a bizarre combination of fierceness and tenderness this particular group of Klingons was. He dismissed this idle speculation and walked into the night to find the searching Terrans.

~

"See if you can get the blood out of these rags," Kzost said, handing the Talljets' clothes to his valet. "Or scare up some replacements."

The valet looked dubious of both prospects but took the rags and withdrew.

'No shame in being splashed with the blood of your enemies,' Kzost thought in a pragmatic Klingon fashion. Nevertheless, he hoped the Talljets were not upset by what they saw this evening - they were rather sheltered in the monastery.

'Which has burned to the ground and everyone is dead so where the hell will they live now?' He was frowning in thought when the Talljets wandered out, wrapped in towels.

"Where're our clothes, Klingon?" Hobie asked politely.

"Sent to be cleaned; they had blood on them."

"Whose blood?" Maja asked.

"Klingon blood," Kzost informed him, remembering that Maja's rags had dark green blood stains as well as the purple Klingon blood. 'What did you see tonight, my Maja?' Kzost wondered. He shook himself - someday Maja would tell him or not tell him, until then it was none of his business.

"Are you hungry?" Kzost asked.

He got three no's; Ling was asleep again.

"All right, you Talljets, go sleep over there by the fire. You should be warm enough. It's late, go to sleep."

The Talljets, Hobie carrying Ling, wandered over to the pile of blankets and burrowed in. They were very very still, waiting for Kzost to go to sleep so they could make their move.

When they heard him snoring behind his curtains, the Talljets crept into bed next to him. They were still shaken by the night's events and felt safer sleeping close to the big Klingon.

Toward dawn, Kzost dreamed he was falling off a freezing cliff and woke to find himself clinging to the very edge of his own bed, which was now dominated by the Talljet brothers.

'Oh, well, it's time to get up anyway,' Kzost thought as he tried to rise but could not as Maja had his arms around Jir's neck and his hands tangled in the Klingon's long black hair. 'On second thought, perhaps I'll just lie here a while longer.' He spooned around Jir, sleeping between him and Maja. He noted that the Talljets slept as they moved in the bazaar: the younger ones between the elder for safety.

'Wise formation,' Kzost thought, watching the Talljets sleep and finally dozed off himself.

Somewhat later Kzost's valet brought in his breakfast, which the Talljets ate for him, and new clothes for the children. Kzost never asked where the clothes came from but he doubled the valet's annual bonus that year for such resourcefulness.

The Klingon dressed and went down to the kitchen to find something to eat, the Talljets on his heels.

Khatanya looked up from his tea, amused, at their entrance.

"They're like little hounds following their dam, sir," he smiled at Kzost and got a withering glare in return. "You could teach them to hunt," Khatanya continued undeterred.

"Only if they're hunting you, Khatanya," Kzost growled. "That might be interesting for us, eh, boys?"

The Talljets looked at Khatanya with interest for a moment before turning their full attention to more food.

After breakfast, Kzost herded them into the garden and showed them his office window.

"Look, I have things to do today so you have to play out here," he informed them, gesturing to the huge garden. "But you can see me in there and if you need me, just tap on the window."

They nodded and began to explore the garden, one of them, however, always checking on Kzost's location.

Kzost himself was checking on them periodically from his office but managed to get some work done in spite of it.

A short while later, Khatanya ushered Voren into Kzost's office.

"Stay, Captain, sit down," Kzost told Khatanya. "You might as well hear what's said."

Khatanya settled himself in a chair just behind Voren's peripheral vision.

"Well, Vulcan, what shall I do with these children?" Kzost asked.

"Can you not keep them? They trust you."

"You know very little of modern Klingon social structures," Kzost informed him. "Vulcanoids in a Klingon household are a dangerous mix. If a superior officer, member of the clergy or Imperial family were to ask for them, I would not be in a position to refuse. And if we are honest with each other we know that Hobie and Jir are already rather pretty and will cause trouble wherever they go."

Voren nodded and decided against telling Kzost of the angry trader calling the Klingon a thief and murderer late last night. Dr. Romsky had punched the man in the nose when he realized what 'merchandise' the slaver was talking about.

"Perhaps there is a solution," Voren said quietly. "As you know, the Terran doctors have been observing the Talljets from a distance since Maja was attacked ..."

"Observing?"

"You frighten them, Commodore, so they don't get too close to the children," Voren said. "And the Talljets are," he paused, looking for a suitable word in Klingonese, "skittish. Except for brazen Maja, who marched up to their door. The children have noticed the Terrans' attention .."

"How have they noticed it?" Kzost was puzzled that he had not noticed the Terrans around the Talljets.

"It's subtle," Voren said patiently at yet another interruption. "They make eye contact mainly, Maja waves at them and disappears into the crowd." He did not mention that he once overheard Dr. Duvallier, a exo-zoologist, suggest setting up a blind in the bazaar to observe the Talljets because they behaved more like urban scavengers than sentient beings. Dr. Wilton, a exo-anthropologist, had commented that that was due to the primitive social structure of Magidrian that had no place for orphans except the streets.

"I believe the Terrans would take them in," Voren continued. "Dr. Castaris suggested it last night and this morning he, Dr. Romsky, Dr. MacQuarrie and Dr. Duvallier agreed to be responsible for the Talljets," he paused. "Here and wherever."

"I believe I've met MacQuarrie," Kzost rumbled to give himself a moment to consider what had just been said. "What do you mean 'wherever'?"

"The Terrans are willing to adopt, raise and educate the Talljets as their legal children."

Kzost and Khatanya exchanged looks. Adoption on Klingon was somewhat different, usually having to do with hostage taking. Khatanya's name in fact meant 'guest of the Khats' in honor of the fact one or more of his significant ancestors had been a hostage, and then ally, of the ancient now defunct, Imperial clan.

"What do you think of this, Vulcan?" Kzost asked at length.

"I am in favor of it unless you have a better plan."

"No. All I thought was giving them money and a place to live near the bazaar. They're pretty good at looking after themselves." Kzost slowed down, remembering that the monks had looked after the Talljets. "But they are still children and probably need more supervision than I can give them." 'Especially MajaYaja the wild one,' he added to himself.

"I agree with you, Klingon, they do need supervision as well as guidance. Maja appears to be out of control already ..."

"Ooooh, nooooo. He's just ... high spirited." Kzost didn't like to hear Maja criticized even if he agreed with it.

Voren gave the Klingon a piercing look and continued: "At any rate, all the Talljets need a stable and safe place to live. I have spent some time with these Terrans since Maja was treated in their lab. I feel that they are serious and sober men, Castaris and Duvallier have raised their own children to adulthood, Romsky has a son and a daughter near Maja's age, MacQuarrie comes from a large family where he had younger siblings ..."

"How do you know this, Vulcan?"

"I listen to what people say to me."

Kzost, impressed by this answer, suppressed a smile and looked at Voren with appreciation. 'Sometimes,' he thought, 'this Vulcan says the most adorable things.'

"And you think these Terrans are reliable, honest, upstanding and worthy of the Talljets?" Kzost asked, breaking into his own reverie.

"Yes. It is also my opinion that the Talljets are worthy of the Terrans and have the potential to be reliable, honest and upstanding, as well."

"You don't think Maja and his brothers are that now?" Kzost asked menacingly.

Voren took an extra nanosecond to phrase his diplomatic reply: "I believe they are rather rough around the edges." He was subtly gratified to hear Kzost grunt with laughter.

"What do you think, Khatanya?" Kzost asked.

"I think it's a good plan, if the Talljets are willing," Khatanya said simply.

"What do you think of the Terrans?"

"Mostly harmless."

"And these particular Terrans?"

"Completely harmless."

"Ah. Well, let's see what Hobie thinks. His brothers, even out-of-control-Maja, will do what he tells them to do."

Kzost nodded, rose and opened his window. He leaned out and waved Hobie over. He stepped back to allow the youth to climb into the room.

"Hullo, Rom," Hobie addressed Voren in halting Klingonese. "Are we going now?" he asked, referring to the visit to the monks' graves they planned to make.

"Presently, Hobie," Voren said, "will you please sit down for a moment?"

Hobie glanced at Kzost, who nodded, and perched on the edge of the chair nearest the window.

'Always poised for flight, aren't you Hobie?' Voren thought. "The Terrans who helped Maja would like to give you and your brothers a home," he said bluntly.

"Can't we stay here?" Hobie asked Kzost.

The Klingon shook his head. "I cannot protect you here for any length of time, Hobie. We Klingons are not angels and you and Jir already have 'admirers' among my officers. I cannot keep my escort around you and your brothers day and night; sooner or later 'something' would happen. You can't throw a match into straw without getting a fire."

Hobie looked at Khatanya for a second opinion. The captain smiled grimly and nodded.

"What kind of home?" Hobie asked Voren.

"A good one," the Vulcan answered, relieved that Hobie would consider it. "You will have food, clothing, shelter and they will teach you what they can."

"And in exchange?" Hobie asked. He was old enough to have been propositioned in the bazaar once or twice and was wary of any kind of offer.

"You obey them," Voren paused to watch a stubborn frown flit over Hobie's pure features. "As you obeyed the monks and Father Polmira." The Vulcan knew that the Talljets boys and the Talljet monks had come to some kind of understanding about obedience in the monastery and hoped Hobie would translate that to this situation. Voren was glad to see that this was what the youth appeared to be doing.

"Hobie, look," Kzost said after the silence had gone on too long for him. "You're old enough to know something of life so let's be blunt. First of all, you and Jir are now as strong if not stronger than these Terrans and in a few years Maja and Ling will be that strong too so you can fight your way out of anything. Second, these Terrans know that and they are taking a helluva risk taking you in. They must trust you for some reason, perhaps they've seen enough of you in the bazaar to believe they can live in harmony with you. Third, as long as you and I are here, if something happens or you think something is going to happen, come to me and I'll kill everyone."

Voren winced mentally as Hobie nodded, indicating that Kzost's sound but inelegant argument made perfect sense to him. Hobie looked at the Vulcan: "Will you wait for us, Rom? I'll go get Jir and we will go to .... to there." Hobie jerked his chin in the direction of the burned monastery. "Maja does not want to go and Ling wants to stay with him," he said, rising. "I will think about what you have said to me and talk to my brothers." He climbed out the window and was gone.

The three adults sat in silence, mulling over Hobie's gracious offer to consider his only real option.

"Bring them back at midday for lunch, Vulcan," Kzost drawled, mainly to break up the silence.

"The Terrans would like them to lunch with them at the lab," Voren answered blandly.

"If they are willing," Kzost offered. "If not, perhaps they'll accompany you there later in the afternoon."

"Will you speak to Maja about this, Klingon?"

"No. I won't set him against Hobie," Kzost answered. "Whatever happens, the Talljets will still have each other and it would be foolish to cause dissension among them."

'Klingons,' Voren thought, 'more for solidarity than sense.'

They all rose as Hobie and Jir came in through the door this time. Khatanya saw the trio to the gate and watched them walk half way up the hill to the burned out shell of the Talljet monastery before he turned back to his duties.

~

"Now the monks are gone away. Where do we live now, Nolo?"

"I don't know. NoloJir and NoloHobie will tell us very soon, I think. Do not worry, Noli, god will still look after us."

At midmorning, Kzost's valet, unbidden, brought a tray of hot drinks and muffins to the tree where Maja and Ling were lurking. He pretended not to see them peeking at him through the leaves and walked away as if it were perfectly natural to leave food and drink at the foot of a tree.

Maja and Ling enjoyed the tea and half the muffins - they saved the other half for Hobie and Jir.

Hobie and Jir lunched with the Terrans and Voren and decided to accept the Terrans' offer for as long as it worked out. The Talljets moved into Star Fleet Scientific Mission #86-543 that evening and began to learn Standard. Drs. Arthur Castaris, Gregor Romsky, James MacQuarrie, and Paul Duvallier sent messages to Star Fleet legal to process the paperwork for an offworld adoption.

* * *

"It's a hell, Klingon, you can't imagine," Maja said in Romulan, sitting across from Kzost at the Commodore's usual table in the cafe.

"How so, my Maja?" Kzost asked the sleek little half Mage in the same language and snapped his fingers for the waiter. "What will you have, child?"

"The usual," Maja informed him, tossing his curls off his shoulder.

Kzost sent the waiter for tea and sliced fruit instead of cake because Maja was starting to look a little fat. Obviously the Terrans were feeding him enough.

"What's the problem, little one?"

"They want me to stay in at night."

"I, too, want you to stay in at night," Kzost told him, remembering how disconcerting it had been to find Maja running errands for one of his favorite brothels. "You're, what? - nine years old? - You're too young to be in the streets after dark."

Maja eyed him narrowly. "I think Devlenisia," he drawled the name of the prostitute Kzost had been visiting that night, "is very pretty."

"Oh, was that her name?" Kzost was momentarily distracted by the memory of looking up from the girl between his legs and into Maja's curious little face that night. He pulled himself together. "I agree; she's pretty. But let's leave her out of this. You and Dr. MacQuarrie have an agreement - he cares for your body and mind and you obey his rules. Your brothers do not have a problem with this."

"And if I don't obey his rules?"

"I don't know. Perhaps he will not keep you..."

"I'd go live with Devlenisia," Maja said pertly. "Or you," he added seriously.

"Maja," Kzost said patiently. "We have had this conversation several times and the answer is the same: you cannot live with me. Besides, in your heart, you don't want to leave your brothers for me or pretty Devlenisia."

"You're prettier than she is," Maja told him.

"Ah. I thank you, child." Kzost nodded graciously. "But, look, you, I'm serious, I want you to obey your Terran. This is a good deal you've got, MajaYaja - don't screw it up!"

Maja pouted. "I hate this name he has for me."

Kzost ignored the pout with difficulty - Maja was irresistible when he pouted. "What is it again? Mokle, Muckel?"

"Michael James."

"Umm, yes, disgusting," Kzost agreed. "But who cares what he calls you as long as it's not late for dinner, you foolish thing?"

"You're not being serious, Klingon, I..."

"I'M not being serious, half Mage? You have the best deal of any ex-street boy in the history of this quadrant and I'M NOT BEING SERIOUS?"

Maja, sensing he was near the outer boundaries of this Klingon's remarkable patience, sat back and sipped his tea. He looked over the bazaar and wondered if Kzost would buy him some more paper.

"I've drawn on all my paper, Klingon, will you buy me some more?" he asked, changing the subject.

Kzost rolled his eyes. "No. Not if you won't stay home at night, Maja."

"Okay, I'll stay home."

"I mean that. I'll know if you don't."

"How?"

"There are lots of Klingons here and they all know you Talljets by sight. I have only to ask." Kzost stared Maja down with ease. "However, I will not ask if you give me your word of honor that you'll stay home at night."

Maja knew this was serious so he gave it some thought. He looked up at this Klingon he loved with all his heart and saw concern in the deep set eyes. He lowered his eyes: "All right, Klingon, I give you my word of honor that I will stay home at night but only because you ask me."

Kzost raised Maja's chin with his index finger: "And will you give me your word that you will try to obey MacQuarrie to the best of your abilities?"

Maja rolled his eyes. "I do."

"Good then." Kzost gave Maja's aquiline nose a playful tug. "What kind of paper do you want?"

"I don't want any," Maja looked at him with eyes far older than his years. "I just want to please you."

"You do, my Maja, you do."

part 38

Ling would wonder forever what might have been had he not been so tempted to see the baby Magehens in Dr. Lazroid's lab that day. For many years after that day, Ling doubted his own judgment and could trust no one but his brothers. It would be a long time before he realized that sometimes random, senselessly cruel and horrible things occur in this life that are so completely beyond one's control the universe seems an unfathomably evil place. And as horrible as that is, the only thing one can do is to survive them, live with their haunting and accept the fact that the memory of this terrible thing affects every part of one's life. Ling eventually learned to trust again, his judgment and other people, but only by minutely examining every aspect of the decision or person under the white hot light of Vulcan logic driven by the fear he learned in Lazroid's lab.

Lazroid, a exo-biologist, had come to Star Fleet Scientific Mission #86-543 three months previously. He hadn't been on Terra in more years than he could count. He'd gone from planet to planet, conducting brilliant research and publishing his findings; he was, at that time, considered one of the greatest scientists Star Fleet had. He was also burned out and planned to retire or commit suicide or something after Magidrian. He found a kindred spirit in Dr. Wilton, who had also been offworld too long.

Although they did not know it, they were also suffering from the psychic assault of the rarefied Magidrian atmosphere. Both had a higher than normal psi rating, both were vulnerable to the free floating emotionally charged psychic residue of the Patois speaking telepaths around them and the reclusive Magidrians. Neither had any telepathic training, nor were they even aware of what was happening to them. In their weakened state, their socio-morals were pushed aside and their vile fantasies, freed by the tendrils of the universal mind where everything dwells benignly, began to seem achievable to Lazroid and Wilton. Twistedly, in the name of science, conducting a thorough examination of the one Talljet they could still overpower seemed like a reasonable project. They would reason away their colleagues' objections. Were they not here to study these people and why were these boys, right in their own lab, not being studied in every way? It is impossible to know if they truly did not realize that they would lose control of themselves.

Hobie, Jir and Maja were not in the lab that afternoon. Hobie and Jir had gone to tend the monks' graves as they did once a month and Maja was meeting Kzost for tea as he did once a week. Ling was invited on both expeditions but he declined. Dr. Lazroid had promised to show him the baby Magehens in his lab that afternoon.

No one, not even the second-sighted Talljets, saw it coming. Lazroid had done nothing wrong in the three months he was there. Neither Voren, who was his usual well shielded self when he'd met Lazroid in the bazaar, nor the Talljets, who were unshielded but untrained to look for it, had felt any dangerous energy in his telefield or noticed any deterioration in Wilton's telefield energy.

Ling had been completely engrossed in the baby Magehen he held. His brothers were enjoying his enjoyment through the link when they felt his sudden surprise, then fear, then pain in a combination that struck horror deep into their souls.

Maja had been walking back from his tea with Kzost and was musing on Ling's fingers stroking the soft ball of feather fuzz. He suddenly felt Ling jerked up and his pants yanked off. He arched in agony as the next sensation of Ling's body being ripped in half and his pain and terror nearly brought Maja to his knees. He thrashed wildly for a moment, felt the adrenaline kick in and ran as fast as he could to the lab. He knew exactly where Ling was; the beacon of his horror was strong in the link.

Hobie and Jir froze for an instant, dropped their tools and flew down the hill. Romsky and Castaris followed them although they didn't have a clue what was wrong - they just knew something was very wrong.

Maja got there first. He didn't understand what he was seeing when he arrived until years later but he knew that he had to get Ling away from these men. He flung himself on Lazroid, who was holding Ling around the waist, and closed his fingers on the soft flesh of his neck. He heard and felt a loud crunching sound under his hands and fell with Lazroid's jerking body. Maja turned to find Wilton grabbing at him. He lashed at the Terran's eyes and dug into the flesh with two fingers. It was effective; the Terran recoiled and staggered away from him.

Maja was trying to haul Ling to his feet when Hobie and Jir ran in.

Hobie's soul turned to ice when he saw the turquoise blood on Ling's legs. He picked up Ling and ran out of the building, his brothers following.

They ran through the bazaar and pleasure district, not stopping until they found some old burned out buildings to hide in. They held Ling, they opened their hearts and poured their love into him. They held him, healed his body and cried with him when they knew they could not heal his fear and horror; they were too vast.

Night fell and they were very hungry but too frightened to move from the safe place they had found to hide in.

~

Calm, cool Paul Duvallier had to be physically restrained from killing Wilton when he heard the doctor's matter-of-fact recital of what had occurred in Lazroid's lab that afternoon.

"Paul," Romsky grated. "We have to find Ling before he bleeds to death."

Duvallier cursed Wilton and ran out the room, closely followed by MacQuarrie and Romsky.

Castaris turned away to go.

"Who's going to dress my eye?" Wilton snarled, nursing his empty socket.

"You're a doctor," Castaris said quietly, his voice dulled by shock and disgust. "Dress it yourself."

~

Voren had seen the Talljets run through the bazaar but they were too fast for him to follow and he lost them in the pleasure district. On his way to the lab to find out what happened, he met MacQuarrie, who told him.

"I need to speak to Commodore Kzost or Captain Khatanya right now," Voren told the guard on gate duty at Kzost's mansion.

"Commodore Kzost and Captain Khatanya are not on the property right now," the guard informed him.

"Where are they?"

"I don't know." He turned back into his shed.

"Can you find out?" Voren asked.

"Commodore Kzost and Captain Khatanya are not on the property right now," the guard informed him from within the shed.

"Vulcan," Kzost said walking up to the gate and acknowledging the guard's salute. "What do you want."

"Ling is hurt and the Talljets have fled with him and we need to find him so he can be treated before he bleeds to death," Voren said clearly.

Kzost looked into Voren's face for clues that were not there. "Find Captain Khatanya for me, Ensign, tell him to meet me at the gate to the Pleasure district." He turned to the Vulcan and led him down the road: "Hurt how?"

"He was assaulted."

"How?"

"He was raped."

Kzost felt his heart stop or at least that was how it seemed.

"Where is Maja?" he asked numbly.

"We don't know, Klingon," Voren answered.

"Raped by whom?" Kzost asked after a moment.

"Lazroid."

"He dies, Vulcan, they all die."

"Lazroid is dead; his throat was crushed. They think it was Maja because Hobie and Jir were too far away from the lab when the rape occurred."

Kzost thought about this as he hailed a taxi. "I thought they would be safe there," he said, leaning back on the seat.

"I, too, thought that."

"And we were wrong, Voren, and those children have suffered even more because we were wrong." Kzost was numb with shock.

"Yes."

Khatanya was waiting at the pleasure district gate when the taxi dropped them off. He lowered his eyes when Voren told him what had happened and turned to his commanding officer.

"Collect all the men you trust, start looking, quietly. I just want to know where they are," Kzost told him quickly. Now that some of the shock had worn off he was distracted by something odd in his head. It was as if he could almost hear Maja crying and had only to follow the sound to find him. "Vulcan, come with me."

Kzost drifted through the pleasure district to the old part that had burned down over four years previously. It had never been rebuilt and the ruins of the brothels and taverns were silent in the moonlight. He followed the weeping in his head until it grew faint and then he doubled back to where it was strongest. He squatted down on his haunches before a burned out brothel entrance. He could not see into the recesses of the ruin but he knew Maja, at least, was there.

"Maja," he whispered. "Maja, please come out, we've got to get Ling some help."

Silence.

"Maja, I know what happened, no one will hurt you or your brothers if you come out to me. I'll take you home with me."

Silence.

Kzost felt his throat constricting and tears on his face.

"Maja," he sighed, "I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I was wrong."

Voren's Vulcan ears heard the rustle of fabric and dead leaves first. A moment later the Talljets moved cautiously out of the shadows and stopped a short distance from the Vulcan and Kzost to assess the safety of the situation.

Maja, clutching his elbows in distress, broke away from the group and walked slowly up to Kzost. He put his arms around the Klingon's neck and wiped the tears off Kzost's cheeks.

Kzost put his arms around Maja and buried his face in the child's shoulder.

Voren gestured to Hobie, Jir and Ling to come forward, which they did with great caution.

"Hobie, Ling needs medical attention ..." Voren began reaching for the youngest Talljet to check his condition.

"Don't touch him," Hobie whispered savagely.

There was murder in his voice and Voren froze and wisely took a step back from Ling.

"Take us home, Klingon," Maja said quietly.

"Yes. Come." Kzost turned to lead the Talljets home.

"Ling needs a doctor," Voren tried to insist.

Kzost grabbed his shirt and shook the Vulcan: "That is the last thing he needs."

Voren thought it more sensible not to follow and watched them disappear between two charred moonlit ruins.

~

When Kzost got the Talljets to his mansion, they took a bath and he put them to bed in his own bed. Ling was withdrawn but he was not bleeding to death so Kzost let him be. He curled up in an armchair beside the bed where the children could see him but he was not too close. He could feel their fear like a mist around them and he didn't want to crowd them. They'd been through enough for three lifetimes. He dozed.

Late in the night Kzost woke to find Maja sleeping on his chest. He stroked the little half Mage's curls and looked at his brothers sleeping in the moonlight flooded bed.

'If I could only keep this Maja and his brothers safe,' he thought as he fell back asleep. 'I would gladly let the rest of creation wither and die.'

* * *

"They wish to remain with Commodore Kzost for the time being," Voren told Castaris, MacQuarrie, Duvallier and Romsky in the Mission several days later.

"After what happened here," Castaris said quietly, "I don't blame them." He had told Voren earlier that the Mission was being withdrawn because of the lack of progress and the departure date was moved up four months because of the incident with Ling. Wilton, at his own request and much to the relief of his colleagues, had left on the first ship leaving Magidria for anywhere.

"Will Ling get the medical attention he needs there?" Romsky asked after a silence.

"The Commodore sent a message that Ling is not in need of medical attention," Voren said dryly, thinking back on the rest of the message Khatanya had brought: if the Terrans went near the mansion they would be shot on sight. "I therefore suggest you avoid his residence for now."

Castaris looked at his colleagues and then at the Vulcan: "Voren, we should have seen it coming and we don't know why we didn't. I have to admit that I was ... distracted ... by Hobie and Jir and not paying as close attention to what was happening to Lazroid. Looking back, I realize he was falling apart in front of me and I just didn't get it."

"Distracted by Hobie and Jir how?" Voren asked, experiencing an odd sinking feeling in his solar plexus.

"I was attracted to them. I still am."

"We had discussed this among ourselves," Duvallier said, "and we are all aware of a certain attraction to Hobie and Jir. We agreed to monitor each other and discuss its development because we were worried something sexual might happen with one of them. We felt that if we were vigilant of each other, no incident could occur. We had to have the situation under control because the Talljets had no where else to go."

"We never dreamed anything would happen to Ling, we felt protective of him and Maja but no inappropriate sexual reactions," Romsky commented.

"I was very surprised to find this in myself, Voren," MacQuarrie told him. "I've never had a sexual interest in another male in my life, until now."

'When will the Federation realize the unwisdom of placing non telepaths on telepathic planets,' Voren thought but said: "It is possible you are reacting to certain influences on this planet that are beyond your control..."

"But they are in our control, Voren," Castaris said harshly. "We knew we needed to watch ourselves and keep it in front of us and we did. Lazroid and Wilton never said a word when we discussed it with them, they said it was not affecting them. And I believed them, goddam me."

"I agree with you, Dr. Castaris, I understand," Voren said. "I had hoped the Talljets could be restored to you and leave here when your mission departs in three weeks." He looked into their shocked faces. "I do not believe any of you are willing to act on your impulses as Drs. Lazroid and Wilton did, I would not have encouraged the Talljets to come here had I thought that. Dr. Lazroid was not a factor in my original considerations as he was not here and my experiences with Dr. Wilton now seem as if they were with a different being altogether.

"I now realize that the Talljets require a different environment and special training for their telepathic abilities. Based upon what Captain Khatanya told me this morning, Ling has no physical injuries whatsoever..."

"That's impossible, we examined Lazroid's corpse and Wilton confirms that .." Romsky broke in, annoyed that the Klingons would lie.

"Yes, I know that you found Ling's blood and excrement on Dr. Lazroid's genitals and I do not dispute that he violated the child." Voren paused to watch the humans wince. "And Ling's psychological state indicates he has suffered a severe trauma ('He hides and his brothers stand guard around where he hides' Khatanya had said. 'They refuse to leave Kzost's room; they feel safe there.') but he has no physical trauma because he and his brothers are empaths and they healed him."

"How?" Castaris asked, intrigued - empaths were just becoming known in Federation scientific circles. They were somewhat like the Unicorn: mythically rare and nearly beyond belief.

"Unknown, Doctor, they do not exist on Vulcan," Voren said, affirming that even Vulcans have telepathic limits. "I suspect the Magidrians are powerful empath/telepaths but we shall never know as they do not consent to be studied.

"I do not wish to leave the children here, I do not know what would happen to them and I am concerned they would fall into the hands of slavers or something similar. They cannot go with Commodore Kzost when he leaves in a month or so, nor, obviously can they remain with you," he raised a hand to silence an outburst from Duvallier. "Not because any of you would assault them. I believe that more than half of the attraction would vanish once you were away from Magidrian. The other half is problematic and beyond your control. It is also beyond the Talljets' control because they do not understand what they are or how to direct it. Without proper training, their superior telepathic gifts would eventually wreak havoc in any non telepathic community they tried to live in.

"I believe I can convince Commodore Kzost to give them back if he is assured that they will be settled on Vulcan. It will be necessary for you to transfer your guardianships to the Vulcan family I hope to place them with."

Voren sat back and waited for the Terrans to see the sense of this. Vulcan was extremely well thought of in the Federation in spite of its off-putting reputation for inhospitably and rudeness. These were merely misinterpretations of Vulcan logic and heavy psychic shielding. The Vulcans did not mix easily with other Federation species, even though Voren had recently heard some old 'news' that a member of the house of Surak, of all Vulcan families, had married a Terran and heaven help that Terran: the Suraks were notoriously arrogant, even to each other. How they would accept an off worlder and progeny were a huge mystery. However and nevertheless, the Vulcans did readily share their awesome scientific and technological accomplishments and were respected, if not nearly revered, for that.

"Can your people help Ling?" Duvallier asked after a long silence.

"Yes."

"Then I am for it."

The other doctors agreed; Voren's argument was too sound.

part 39

"I have spoken to my family, they are willing to act as a foster family to the Talljets on Vulcan. The doctors are willing to transfer their guardianship and it is all a matter of putting the paperwork in order," Voren finished simply, wryly wishing it were so simple. He'd spoken to his great aunt SaGolia, next in line to be matriarch, and asked her to convince the current matriarch, T'Prol, to call in some favors and get the Talljets Vulcan visas and residencies based on the trumped up fact that Voren's great uncle, the respected Vulcan linguist, SaBrzia, was willing to have the half Mages in his household of linguists to study the mysterious Magidrian Patois. This subterfuge was necessary due to the fact the Vulcan immigration authorities did not recognize acts of mercy as valid reasons for settling offworlders on Vulcan. It would succeed because of T'Prol's pull, SaBrzia's reputation and the Vulcan Interplanetary Ministry and the Vulcan Institute's interest in a crucial galactic language that could not be deciphered in the field.

Voren now faced his biggest hurdle: Commodore KzostGhet.

The Commodore had listened patiently to Voren, occasionally glancing at Khatanya, seated behind the Vulcan, but mostly trying to conceal his aching back. The first morning of the Talljets' residency, the Klingon had woken to find all four of them sleeping in the armchair with him. He'd finally given in and simply slept in the bed with them, which was uncomfortable because of the odd positions they twisted him into in the course of the night. Kzost would also have kept more distance between himself and Maja but the child would not sleep anywhere but the Klingon's chest. 'I must be a saint by now,' he thought grimly, staring at Voren.

Kzost was concerned about the Talljets' mental welfare. Ling still hid and the others still guarded where he hid. In the four days since the incident, the children had not left his bedroom. Kzost brought them food but knew this could not go on forever. He was relieved that Voren might have a solution but dubious; Voren had had the previous solution and it was a disaster. He felt guilty that he had not anticipated it, that perhaps he should have interrogated the Vulcan more thoroughly. Should have. Should have. Should have.

v "How can I know your cousins won't gang rape the Talljets five minutes after they arrive?" Kzost snarled. "I won't be there to rescue them again."

"They're Vulcans."

This was almost inarguable. In the history of modern Vulcan, rape, as Kzost defined it, was unheard of. It was one of the things that most annoyed the Klingons because during the Klingon-Vulcan war the Klingons had raped every Vulcan prisoner at least once as a matter of form. Kzost knew that Voren knew this and was grudgingly grateful that the Vulcan had chosen not to point it out.

Voren did not want a fight with Kzost. On the contrary, he would need all of Kzost's assistance to convince the Talljets to go peacefully to Vulcan with Castaris, Romsky, Duvallier and MacQuarrie when the starship Lexington arrived in three weeks.

"They're not quite right in the head anymore, Vulcan," Kzost said, referring to the Talljets. "It's like they've seen too much battle. I've seen it in soldiers but not in children, never in children." Kzost thought on Hobie's dead frozen eyes, Maja's haunted expression, Jir starting at nothing, and Ling, poor panicked Ling, trying to hide from a memory too huge and horrible to hide from. They only relaxed their vigilance when Kzost lay down with them, Maja, Ling and Jir, a little at least. Hobie was like an unsheathed blade, Khatanya had rightly said the other day - cold, sharp, deadly. "I am afraid," Kzost had never said those words before and he looked into Voren's eyes, "for them."

Something in Voren went very still as he looked into Kzost's naked eyes. In that moment he knew to the bottom of his soul that he'd waited all his life for this man. A Klingon; but that did not matter at all. With great effort, he pushed it aside to concentrate on the problem at hand.

"There are mental techniques," Voren said slowly, "my people can teach them to help them deal with their trauma. That and time in a safe environment is all I have to offer the Talljets now."

Kzost leaned back in his chair to come to grips with the logic of it. He hated logic - it reminded him of the battles the Klingons lost in the war with the Vulcans. He looked at Khatanya and asked the Captain what he thought.

"I'm afraid to say."

"Why?"

"Because I was wrong last time."

"We were all wrong last time, let us beg god to make us right this time."

Khatanya paused to beg god or phrase his answer or something, but it was a moment before he spoke: "I believe they would come to no physical harm but it's a fate worse than death to be a Vulcan."

Voren's heart sank, he knew Kzost would listen to this Klingon. Even Voren himself would listen to this Klingon. He inhaled to refute this argument but Kzost forestalled him with a gesture.

"Unfortunately," Khatanya continued. "I don't see what else can be done. The Terrans can't be trusted; leave them here and god knows what will happen; take them to Klingon and they'll all be barracks' whores or Imperial concubines before the year is out." He leaned forward to address Voren: "You can't make them into Vulcans, can you Vulcan?"

Voren turned his head slightly, still watching Kzost: "No and my family is an unusual modern Vulcan family."

"Oh? What are they like?" Kzost asked.

"Beyond obeying the civil laws, they believe individuals need not conform to society's rigid requirements. They value intelligence and education tempered by wisdom and compassion. They encourage their children to satisfy their own curiosity and appropriately question authority. They appreciate difference instead of merely tolerating it. They teach those in their care to use their own intelligence guided by experience. To see the terrain, not just look at it. They respect logic but do not worship it." Voren leaned back, strangely exhausted.

Kzost gazed thoughtfully at him, deeply impressed - he'd never heard a Vulcan speak from his heart. He did not know it was possible. Voren went up another notch in his esteem. 'This must be very important to you, Vulcan, to show yourself to me like that,' he thought.

Khatanya was not impressed: "There are no Vulcans like that."

"Open your eyes, Klingon, and see one in front of you," Kzost said rising. "Come with me, Vulcan, we will talk to the children together."

Voren followed him out of the office and up to Kzost's bedroom.

Kzost acknowledged his guards' salute and entered. Hobie, Jir and Maja, poised to spring, let their heels down but did not relax.

Seeing them, Voren felt a chill run up his spine. They looked at him like cornered animals; even the most gentle creature will turn to fight, in vain, when there is no other choice.

Kzost sat down on the floor, keeping several meters between them. He gestured for Voren to sit next to him.

The three Talljets continued to stand.

Kzost kept his eyes lowered as he addressed Hobie for all of them: "Hobie, I think you understand that no one now on this planet wanted Ling to be hurt. The man responsible is dead and the other has fled, may they both rot in hell forever. The only people here now want to help Ling as much as they can." He paused to swallow slowly. "We want to help all of you as much as we can."

The Talljets exchanged wary glances and then, surprisingly, Maja sat down between his brothers.

Kzost flicked him a grateful glance and continued: "I think you know that the offworlders are leaving Magidrian very soon. This is your home and we understand if you don't want to leave it. We do not know how you will survive if you stay here but if you wish to stay here, no one will try to stop you."

Jir sank gracefully to a cross-legged position on the floor next to Maja. Only Hobie remained standing.

Kzost continued: "We have found a place for you to live where you and your brothers will be safe. It is called Vulcan. It is Voren's home world. Everyone there is like Voren."

The Klingon paused to let that sink in - the Talljets rather liked Voren - and continued: "You and your brothers will live with Voren's family. He assures me they are good people and I believe him. I also promise you that if you need me I will come. There are Klingons on Vulcan and you have only to send me a message through them and I or Khatanya or someone we trust will come for you. I swear this on my honor as a Klingon."

Kzost didn't look up when Ling's little feet came into his line of vision and the child crawled into his lap. He put his arms around him in a light embrace and continued: "This is all I have to offer you and your brothers now, Hobie."

Kzost fell silent and waited for Hobie's decision. He knew he could take the youth and drag the Talljets to Vulcan but he valued their trust too much to do that.

Hobie sat down. "How are we to get there?" he asked.

"In a starship," Kzost replied vaguely.

"Yours?"

"No."

"Whose?"

"A Terran starship."

Like lightening, the elder Talljets sprang to their feet again and Ling flashed back to his hiding place.

Kzost cursed silently but did not move a muscle. He hoped Voren could defend himself if the children attacked because they would be a handful. He doubted they would attack but one must anticipate all possible scenarios in these situations.

"Are you mad, Klingon?" Hobie snarled.

"Hobie, there are good Terrans and there are bad Terrans, just as there are good Klingons and there are bad Klingons," Kzost answered, nicely dodging Hobie's original question. "Do you hate me and Khatanya because we are Klingons and Castaris, Romsky, MacQuarrie and Duvallier because they are Terrans? Or do you judge us by your experience with us? Can you trust us because of your experience with us? Can you, Hobie, will you? I can do nothing for you if you will not trust me. If I leave you here because you will not accept the best solution I can find, I do not know what will happen to you. Perhaps you and Jir will survive for a while but what will happen to Maja and Ling? And if you do survive and your brothers don't it will haunt you for the rest of your life. Just as leaving you here will haunt me for the rest of my life. Hobie, please," Kzost looked up into Hobie's frozen eyes, "if not for yourself then for the rest of us, please, think this over very seriously." He took a deep breath and exhaled: "And now, I'm going to get up and go down to my office. If you want to talk to me, the comm unit is there and you know how to use it."

Kzost rose with some effort, his old Klingon knees were not accustomed to sitting on floors to argue with fourteen year old MageCheqs. He tapped the still seated Vulcan on the shoulder.

"Come."

Voren looked up at him, rose in one fluid motion and followed.

"What now, Klingon?" he asked.

"We wait to hear what they decide," Kzost murmured vaguely, dividing his thoughts between the interview with Hobie Talljet, Voren's beautiful eyes and graceful carriage and why that was so interesting just now. 'Whatever happens,' he thought, 'I have got to get off this planet and away from these vulcanoids.'

They settled back in the office and Kzost called for tea. Khatanya brought it in, asked what happened and was told.

"You're the only Commodore in the Fleet that petitions half caste street boys like they were the Klingon Emperor," Khatanya observed.

Kzost sneered half-heartedly at him: "And you're the only tea-boy I know with Imperial Fleet Captain rank."

Voren kept his eyes demurely lowered as he listened to Khatanya grunt good-naturedly. He was also keeping his eyes lowered so Kzost could continue to examine him unimpeded. It occurred to the Vulcan that it might be nice for Khatanya to leave and lock the door behind him but then what? Voren had never seduced anyone in his life and he wasn't sure he knew how, was ready to, really wanted to, or if he should. What he wanted, oddly, was to curl up in Kzost's lap as Ling had - it seemed such a safe place. Perhaps it was a safe place for the Talljets but not for him. A little indefinable shiver went through him and he took a deep breath to clear his head.

"Khatanya," Kzost muttered huskily.

"Sir?"

"Get out."

"Sir."

"And lock the door behind you."

Listening to the door lock softly click and keeping his eyes down, Voren watched Kzost rise and step around the desk to stand next to him. He looked slowly up into the Klingon's face.

Kzost grabbed the Vulcan's shirt and hauled him to his feet. Crushing Voren to his chest, he pried the Vulcan's mouth open with his tongue. He was relieved to meet almost no resistance and ground his erection into the Vulcan's. He backed them up to the desk so he could lay Voren across it. Kzost buried his face in Voren's neck and began fumbling with both their clothes.

Softly panting with desire, Voren was just about to place his fingers into meld position, merely to slow the Klingon down a little, when the comm line droned next to them.

Kzost groaned in frustration, took a deep breath to steady himself and answered. It was Hobie.

"We want to talk to the Terrans first," he said. "Can they come to your office?"

"Yes," Kzost had to clear his throat. "Yes, I'll arrange it."

Hobie switched off.

Kzost reluctantly got off Voren and set the Vulcan on his feet. He adjusted his clothes, opened the door and bellowed for Khatanya, who came in looking puzzled.

'Kzost is quick but not that quick,' Khatanya thought, trying to compare this with the Commodore's escapades with women.

"Tell your guards the Terran doctors are coming here as my guests," Kzost snarled. "Go with this Vulcan in my car to get them. Make sure they come. I guarantee their safety."

Khatanya saluted and motioned Voren to follow him. He spoke to two of his lieutenants and led Voren outside.

"Are you all right, Vulcan?" Khatanya asked.

"Yes," Voren answered. He was slightly flustered; more by the interruption of Kzost's overture than by the overture itself.

The doctors were easy to convince and they were all soon standing in Kzost's office, waiting for the Talljets to join them.

The Talljets, escorted by Khatanya, entered in a careful knot - Maja and Ling between Hobie and Jir - and proceeded cautiously into the room. Quicker than lightening Jir slipped Khatanya's knife from his belt and kicked Romsky's feet out from under him. He pounced on Romsky's chest and held the knife point to the doctor's eye as his brothers fanned out to hold off the adults. Maja kept Kzost at bay, Hobie was in front of Khatanya and Voren. Even Ling stood his ground before the three stunned doctors.

"WHY DID IT HAPPEN?" Jir screamed into Romsky's face.

"Don't move, Terran," Kzost murmured, never taking his eyes off Maja.

"WHY DID IT HAPPEN?"

"Jir," Romsky finally whispered, "Jir, they were insane, they were evil..."

"YOU LET IT HAPPEN." Jir was shaking like a leaf but the knife was steady in his hand.

"I ..."

"YOU LET IT HAPPEN," Jir was winding himself up. "WHY...WHY..."

"I didn't know, Jir," Romsky said quietly. "I didn't know this could happen. I couldn't believe such an evil thing could happen to someone I know, someone I care about. I don't understand why it happened but I'd give my life to have stopped it. I'd give both our lives to have stopped it. I'm sorry. I'm sorry."

Jir silently took this in but remained on Romsky's chest, knife poised to plunge into the Terran's right eye.

"Swear," he hissed, "swear we are safe with you."

"I swear."

"Swear..."

"I swear on the lives of my children and my family and my brothers that you are safe with me, with us."

"That is well," Jir said, raising the knife and plunging it into the carpet by Romsky's right ear. "Because I now swear to you, Terran, that if anything else happens to any of my brothers I will not kill you but I will make you wish you were dead." He stood and the brothers stepped back into formation, younger between elder, against the wall, assuring them of a straight shot out the door if necessary.

The adults heaved a sigh of relief.

Khatanya bent to retrieve his knife from the floor. 'How humiliating,' he scowled mentally, 'disarmed by a twelve year old.'

Romsky got shakily to his feet and went to sit with his colleagues. He was badly rattled by Jir's attack but could not really blame the child. Romsky gave thanks he still had his life and his eye.

"So!" They jumped as Kzost broke into everyone's thoughts in Standard. "Still want to take them to Vulcan?" He was yet again impressed with these Talljets, they were feisty little guys, even poor Ling.

"Yes," Castaris said simply. His colleagues nodded in agreement at the Klingon.

Kzost turned to the Talljets: "You have your guarantee, Hobie, they will protect you, all of you. Will you go with them? To Vulcan? To Voren's family."

Hobie looked inward for a moment: he was listening to his brothers in his head. He inhaled: "Yes. Yes. Yes."

Kzost looked at Romsky: "You've made your promise to Jir, Terran, and I think you'll keep it." He looked at each doctor in turn. "I further think that Jir will 'make you all wish you were dead' if anything bad happens." He paused for emphasis. "And I'll finish what he leaves me." He watched that sink in. He smiled to hear Jir's happy grunt of acknowledgment but did not look at him.

"I am pleased that these children have such a powerful friend in you, Commodore," Duvallier said graciously after a moment. "My colleagues and I will gladly die if we cannot keep our promise to them." He thought this was a little dramatic but, based on what he'd just heard in the room, he correctly assumed this was what the non-Terrans wanted to hear.

It was. Kzost and Khatanya exchanged satisfied glances. Maja even smiled a little at MacQuarrie.

"We want to stay here until it's time to go to Voolkin." Hobie announced in Standard with his thick Rom accent.

"That's fine, Hobie," Kzost said, hoping his back would hold out. After Jir's performance, he had no doubt his self control would.

Ling buried his face in Jir's chest and mewed softly.

"Hemzjit (let's go)," Jir murmured to Hobie and they all left the room, escorted by Captain Khatanya.

"Well, that was easy," Kzost said amicably to the doctors. "Get out."

The Terrans said good afternoon and left.

Voren, seeing Kzost was not inclined to pick up where they'd left off, rose: "Good afternoon, Commodore."

Kzost, still seated, held his eyes: "I'll walk you home, Vulcan." He rose, "Let me check on the Talljets and I'll be with you terrectly."

~

Voren lived in a simple room on a quiet street off the bazaar. He led the Klingon into the sunny chamber that contained only a bed, a table and a chair and waited for Kzost to lunge. Or rather, he hoped that Kzost would lunge.

"Never have visitors, do you Vulcan?" Kzost asked, looking around the room.

"Never. How do you know?"

"Only one chair." Kzost moved a little closer. "Is it true that you Vulcans sleep on stones?"

"Some Vulcans do, yes." Voren gently placed a hand on the Klingon's thick bicep.

"Do you?" Kzost suddenly wondered if they shouldn't go find a soft bed somewhere else. His back hurt enough as it was.

Voren slowly shook his head. "No," he murmured.

"Ah. Good." Kzost pulled Voren over to the bed. He would find it more like a bale of straw than stone, alas. But, by that time, it did not matter; he would have made love to Voren on razors.

"Undress," he ordered and watched as the Vulcan obeyed.

Kzost ran his blunt fingertips over the soft skin on Voren's chest, through the silky jet floss and down to his hard pale green cock. Still fully clothed, he laid the Vulcan down on the bed and lay on top of him. He brought his lips softly to Voren's, contact without pressure, and retreated when the Vulcan pressed up against him. Kzost explored the pointed ear with his tongue, it had a nice salty taste and soft soft flesh stretched taut over its graceful curves.

"Have you done this before, Klingon? With a man?"

"No. Have you?"

"No. How do you know what to do?"

"Based upon my previous experience with females, I plan to make certain logical assumptions and a few intuitive leaps."

"Take your clothes off. Your belt is ..."

"I shall consider it, Vulcan."

For a response, Voren reached across Kzost's chest, took hold of armhole seam of his uniform and ripped the entire tunic and undershirt off in one fluid motion.

"I think I'll take my clothes off," Kzost muttered, undressing. He was impressed by such an elegant show of force. v He tossed his pants on the only chair and laid full length on the Vulcan. Kzost found himself enjoying the silky skin over lean hard muscle beneath him.

"Happy, now?" he asked, stroking Voren's penis with his own.

"No, of course not," Voren said dryly. "It is only more comfortable to have sex naked."

"Ah," Kzost said abstractedly as he guided Voren's hand to his penis.

The Vulcan started at the contact with the hard cool flesh.

Kzost tightened his grip on Voren's wrist until his resistance subsided and he began to stroke the Klingon's cock. He moved his own hand to the Vulcan's impressive erection and began to caress the hot flesh. Considering their equal strengths, he wisely decided against forcing Voren to go down on him. He fondled the Vulcan's balls, stroked his inner thigh and spread Voren's legs a little wider in his exploration of the alien body beside him. He caressed the tight ring of the Vulcan's anus, slipped in his fingertip and felt him jump.

"I've never been penetrated, Klingon. Do you want to do that?"

"I can tell," Kzost said dryly as he pressed his finger in a little deeper, thinking, 'You're so blunt, Vulcan, and so tight' but said: "Yes, actually, I do. Don't you?" He abruptly withdrew his finger so Voren would jump again.

"Perhaps," Voren moved a few millimeters away from him. "Have you done this before?"

"Not with a man," Kzost answered and rolled the Vulcan over without another word. "Or a virgin," he added in a soft whisper and kissed Voren's shoulder. "I'll be gentle."

Without a meld, Voren could not be sure the Klingon was telling him the truth but he was inclined to trust him.

Kzost rummaged around in his cloak for the lubricant he'd put there earlier when he'd decided what he'd like to do if he could get Voren into bed. He was pleased it was all working out so well. He came across the handcuffs he'd brought and smiled; he wouldn't be needing them this afternoon. He put some of the very fine imported Mvorian jelly on his fingers and smoothed it around the outside of the Vulcan's tight ring. He noted the light, it was still early afternoon and there was no need to hurry.

Voren allowed himself to relax under the Klingon's surprisingly gentle touch. He was thoroughly aroused and actually enjoying the caress. He could feel Kzost's cock against his thigh and shivered when the Klingon pressed his finger into him, up to the first joint.

"All right, Voren?" Kzost whispered against his neck. He slipped his left arm under the Vulcan to hold him and caress him as he continued his gentle probing and stretching. He nuzzled at Voren's cheek until the Vulcan gave him his lips. Kzost kissed him deeply and sweetly, finding so much pleasure in this man, he wondered why he'd never done it before. He slipped in another slick finger and Voren moaned into his mouth. He could feel the moisture on the Vulcan's cock on his arm. He damped down his sudden impatience and slowly slipped in a third finger.

Voren broke the kiss so he could pant against the Klingon's shoulder. He was shocked that he could be so aroused by this intimate invasion and hid his confusion against Kzost's neck as Kzost gently worked his fingers in and out. 'This is wrong, I should stop him,' he thought desperately. 'But I don't want to.' He pulled Kzost back into the deep kiss and began to move in the rhythm of the Klingon's fingers.

part 40

"Tell me, Vulcan," Kzost husked in Klingonese, leaning back. "Tell me what you want."

"I want you inside me," Voren panted in the same.

"Say it."

"I just did."

"Say 'I want you to fuck me'," Kzost coached patiently.

"Does that mean the same thing?"

"Yes," Kzost said, realizing it was only a language problem.

"I." Voren licked his lips and looked into the Klingon's hot eyes. "Want." He leaned forward and licked the Kzost's lips. "You." He ran his teeth over Kzost's jaw line. "To." He bit the Klingon's earlobe hard and heard him gasp. "Fuck." He reached down and squeezed the head of Kzost's cock - hard. "Me," he whispered, rolling onto this stomach.

'Impressive,' Kzost thought as he settled himself between the Vulcan's thighs and put lots of Mvorian jelly on his cock. He slipped quite a lot more into Voren for good measure. He felt the Vulcan tense when he centered his cockhead on his anus. "Relax, Voren, relax." He felt the Vulcan obey a little. "I know this is difficult for you. We'll go on the count of three, yes?" He saw Voren nod and felt him relax a little more. "One." A little more relaxed. "Two," Kzost murmured as he pushed the head of his cock past the tight ring. "Three."

Voren gasped in pain and tightened but there was no way to push the Klingon out and no way to move forward away from him. He steeled himself against the pain and brought all his Vulcan mental discipline into play to overcome it. He took deep breaths, relaxed even more and was relieved the Klingon had not plunged in full length.

Kzost had sighed with pure bliss when Voren tightened on his cockhead. 'Ah, such rare and divine constriction,' he thought, 'and heat,' and had drawn on great reservoirs of restraint not to bury his cock to the hilt in the Vulcan. After all, Voren was still a virgin but not for much longer. He watched Voren's resistance subside and felt him relax more. He slowly pressed in a little further and a little further until he was all the way in. He bent to kiss the back of Voren's neck, rest and give them both a moment to adjust.

By the time Kzost hit bottom, Voren was completely surrendered to him and enjoying the Klingon inside him. 'Anything you want, Klingon,' he thought and was immediately glad they were not in a meld as he did not know what 'anything' might mean for a Klingon or this Klingon anyway. Marveling at how instinctual he was finding all this, Voren squirmed a little to let Kzost know he was ready to be fucked. He moaned softly.

"What?" Kzost leaned down.

"Fuck me."

"Ah."

Kzost began to move gently in short thrusts. He knew Voren was relaxed and slick enough but Kzost wanted to maintain control for as long as possible. He reached beneath the Vulcan and stroked his cock. He lengthened his strokes and was pleased to feel Voren thrusting up to meet them. They moved together in longer, harder and faster thrusts. Kzost decided he'd have more finesse next time but for now, he pounded into Voren until he felt the Vulcan climaxing and clenching around him. Kzost lunged once more into him and came with a strangled roar.

They lay panting together and trying not to black out.

Kzost gently pulled his soft exhausted cock out of the Vulcan and rolled onto his back, noting how hard the mattress was.

Voren rose gracefully and tottered to the bathroom. He returned with a wet towel and dropped it on the Klingon's chest.

"Thanks," Kzost said in Standard, cleaning himself up. He tossed the towel into a corner and pulled Voren back into his arms. "How do you feel?"

"Sore."

"Do you want to go again?"

"No. Not right now." Voren snuggled a little closer to the huge, cool, honey colored body.

"Ah." Kzost tightened his arm and dozed a little. He eventually went home and had dinner with Khatanya, who did not ask any embarrassing questions beyond, 'Where's your shirt?'

* * *

"I don't want to go."

"You must go."

"I want to go with you."

"You can't," Kzost said, trying once again to gently disengage Maja's arms from his neck. He'd succeeded in getting Maja to stop choking him at least.

Voren, Kzost and his escort had brought the Talljets to the transporter rendezvous to meet the doctors and go to the USS Lexington. Kzost had not expected to find himself in this futile argument with Maja. He declined all offers of assistance in favor of reasoning with the child.

"Why not?"

"Because I say so."

"Bah."

"Don't you 'bah' me, Maja." Kzost knelt and set Maja's feet on the ground. "Look, you can't come with me because I'm going where they eat little boys like you for breakfast."

"You'll protect me."

"I can't, Maja, there are some things I can't do."

Maja leaned back to look at him, his pointed little face was wet with tears. "Will I ever see you again, Klingon?"

"Yes, Maja. If that is god's will."

This was something Maja understood from the Talljet monks and Father Polmira: "Then we must pray for that, KzostGhet." He disengaged his hands from the Klingon's hair and kissed his cheek. He gave his Klingon one last long look and stepped back from him. He joined his brothers and allowed himself to be maneuvered into transporter position, his eyes never leaving Kzost's.

"Nine to beam up," Commander Costa, the exec of the Lexington, said into his communicator.

Commodore KzostGhet of the Klingon Empire brought his fist onto his chest in salute to Maja Talljet and his brothers. His entire escort followed suit. He watched Maja's eyes until they were gone. 'I will pray that we meet again, my Maja,' he thought sadly and turned to look into Voren's eyes.

"Aren't you going with them?" Kzost asked the Vulcan irritably.

"No. I am going with you. We discussed this," Voren said simply.

"Was I awake when we discussed this?" v "Yes. You agreed. Have you changed your mind, Klingon?"

"No. Come."

* * *

Twenty-nine years later aboard the KaraTienKa, Admiral KzostGhet looked down at Maja Talljet sobbing quietly on his chest, again. Only this time it was over the father, not the son. This time Maja was not a broken hearted teenager but broken hearted Master Ghet of the Klingon Empire.

He stroked Maja's curls and looked up at Hobie, pacing the cabin like a caged panther. He'd listened to the brothers tell their stories until it degenerated into an argument and Maja had flung himself, sobbing, into Kzost's arms and stayed there.

"Hobie, it's done, what are you still on about?" Kzost rumbled at the eldest Talljet.

"It's not done, Klingon." He gestured to Maja with his chin. "He's still upset about it."

"If you wanted him to be happy, you'd have left him with Sarek the Vulcan and to hell with everything else."

"That's not very helpful, Klingon," Hobie growled.

Kzost smiled; no matter what Hobie became, Kzost would always see him as an eleven year old, chasing after his wild little brother in the bazaar.

"I'm not here to be helpful, Hobie, I'm here to take Master Ghet back to the Klingon Empire," Kzost replied. "Back to the Commune and the Hierophant Kroldt."

Maja sighed and sat up, he was suddenly tired of Hobie and all the arguing. He gave his brother a weary look and shrugged: "Hochofedra, Nolo, hochofedra."

"Maja..." Hobie looked into his brother's sad eyes and trailed off. He lowered his eyes.

Maja smiled sadly at him and lay back against Kzost.

"Hobie, it's done. Why not go back to your ship and I'll see you next time. All right?" Kzost said quietly, unhappy to see the brothers at odds and so subdued. "I'll do what I can to twist the ransom you paid out of the Hierophant but I'll make no promises."

"All right, thanks," Hobie sighed and turned to Maja. "I'll see you in a few weeks on Zhaharnisha, okay, Maja?"

"Okay, Hobie," Maja rose and walked over to embrace his brother. 'It will be all right, in time, like last time, I won't die from this, I can't, you can't die from love, I know that, lord, don't I know that,' he thought as he let Hobie go.

He and Kzost watched Hobie transport back to his ship and turned to look at each other.

"Master Ghet," Kzost addressed him formally.

"Oh, Klingon," Maja sighed, "can't I just be plain old Maja for a while longer?"

"You are always that to me, my Maja," Kzost smiled.

Maja smiled, too: "In that case, where's my tea and cake, Klingon?"

* * *

"I want to know what these Klingon symbols mean as quickly as possible," Sarek handed the datapad to his son and rose. "I'm quite tired now; I would like to rest. Will you ask someone to show me my cabin, Spock?"

Spock looked across the briefing room at McCoy and Chapel standing helplessly by. They had met Sarek at the solar cat in the landing bay and were still trying to get him to sickbay for an examination.

"I would like to take you to sickbay to check your physical condition, Ambassador," McCoy said, hoping precise wording might change Sarek's mind.

"I assure you, Doctor, I am in perfect condition," Sarek was moving closer to the door. "I am merely tired and wish to rest." He looked mildly into the doctor's eyes.

McCoy knew this look all too well; he'd seen it often enough on Spock.

"Very well, Ambassador, I'll show you to your cabin," McCoy wisely agreed and allowed Sarek to precede him. Chapel followed with a medical scanner, just in case Sarek relented.

Spock looked down at the datapad he held and did not recognize the runes for Master Ghet and the Gozshedrefreingin Commune.

* * *

"How's the narrative coming, Tom?" Kirk asked, setting a fresh cup of coffee next to Commander Albany.

"Long and hard. Lot to tell, lot to say."

Kirk sat next to him and didn't ask anymore questions; Star Fleet, in the form of Commodore Yakolev, had a level five security code on the entire Rovirin incident. Upon receiving Albany's transmission that they were on their way home, Yakelov had sent the Enterprise and two ships from his escort to meet the solar catamaran. Kirk had noticed Maria Norris' absence but was unable to ask about it. He felt bad, he could see Albany was grieving and would like to have comforted him.

"I wish I could tell you, Jim....," Albany ran his hand through his dark hair and looked up at Kirk with sad black eyes.

"I know," Kirk murmured, "someday."

* * *

"It's Master Ghet's rune and the rune for the Gozshedrefreingin Commune. I remembered because I saw it on some holopix of the Tossarian gates I was studying." Janice Rand finished and stood back from Sarek. She had seen the symbols on the req for gen info Spock posted an hour earlier.

Sarek lowered his eyes and focused on the deck for a moment before he trusted his voice. "Thank you, Yeoman," he said quietly and turned away.

Spock also thanked Rand and saw her out of the guest cabin suite. He watched his father sit heavily in a chair and stare into space.

"Father, can I be of assistance?"

"No. I do not wish to keep you from your duties, my son."

"I am not on duty at present, sir."

Sarek neither spoke nor looked at Spock. His full concentration was on reviewing his adventure with Maja. It was being scrutinized for clues to Maja's true identity that the Vulcan might have missed in his ... confusion. Or his lust, perhaps was more accurate. Maja had given nothing away. Upon further reflection, Sarek decided that Maja had shown him his true identity from start to finish; that Master Ghet was likely the assumed role.

Nevertheless, it did not change the fact that Sarek now found himself in a delicate situation: he was still in love with Maja - a complex state made more complex by the half Mage's position in the Klingon Empire and with the Hierophant Kroldt.

Sarek turned his attention from his neatly ordered thoughts and looked at his son, seated across the room.

"Father, I do not wish to disturb you, however, I am curious about how you found Maja Talljet after all these years," Spock said delicately.

"Maja Talljet, my son, is Master Ghet."

* * *

"Hobie the Pirate, Jir the Dancer and Ling the Whore are Master Ghet's brothers?" Kirk asked, stunned.

Spock nodded. He looked into McCoy's sympathetic eyes and suddenly wished they were alone.

They were, however, in Kirk's cabin, watching him pace.

They were also a few hours from Rovirin. In the past two hours, Sarek had refused to speak with Sdiz, Yakolev, T'Pau, Amanda, Sovort, his assistant, KvsniviKhar, the Klingon Ambassador to Vulcan, Strivsiar, the head of the Vulcan Interplanetary Ministry, and T'Lau, the family's healer. He had, however, contacted his secretary, Smirek, and later spoken to his attorney, SerCixz, of the firm Talljet and Storen. Sarek chose not to divulge the subject of this conversation.

He had chased Spock out of his cabin and continued to refuse to be examined by Dr. McCoy. All communication ceased shortly thereafter.

Kirk had called them both together to try to piece together what the hell might be going on here. He was still pacing when he was paged to the bridge.

"I'll be right back," he said. "Stay here, please," and left.

McCoy murmured 'door lock' behind him and rose to put his arms around the still seated Vulcan. He ran his fingers through Spock's soft jet hair and over his shoulders until he felt the Vulcan relax infinitesimally.

"This must be quite a shock for you," McCoy soothed.

"Yes, it is," Spock agreed. He had actually been thinking about getting what you wish for, now that he was alone with McCoy. But he focused on the doctor's words more than his touch, or scent or sound of his voice. "I am also concerned about my father ..."

"Spock, I very much want him in sickbay..."

"Yes, Leonard, I understand. But you must realize that my father is not as easy to bully as I am," Spock said, rubbing his ear into McCoy's blue tunic clad belly. He turned his head into it to hide his smile as McCoy became outraged by this comment and then pulled the doctor down into a kiss that quickly transformed the human's rage into passion.

~

"I want to talk to Ambassador Sarek, Kirk, and I want to talk to him right now," Admiral Jessup said, highly annoyed that the Ambassador had not come directly to the bridge or even answered when Uhura commed him.

"Lieutenant Uhura, shipwide page for the Ambassador," Kirk muttered. "He's not talking to anyone, Admiral, I ..."

"I am not just anyone, Jim. If he won't answer, go get him. Or send Spock. A man listens to his own son." Jessup was brisk.

Kirk had a vague sense that he did not want to disturb Spock at just that moment and rose: "Admiral, I shall do my best," he said gallantly and turned to the turbolift, trying very hard not to feel like an errand boy.

"Come back with your shield or on it, Jim." Jessup smiled at last and switched off.

~

Spock pulled McCoy to the deck and freed the doctor's erection.

~

"Override," Kirk said to Sarek's door and hesitated before entering.

Sarek looked up blandly from the art journal monograph on Master Ghet and the Gozshedrefreingin Commune he was reading.

"I apologize for this intrusion, Ambassador," Kirk sighed.

~

Pinning McCoy to the deck, Spock bent to take the human's cock in his mouth. He did not allow McCoy to reciprocate.

"Oh, Spock, oh, Spock, oh..."

~

"Then it is serious if Admiral Jessup is involved," Sarek said quietly, rising. "Is there a secure place to speak to him, Captain?"

Kirk discarded his own cabin as an option and led Sarek to a briefing room.

~

Intent on bringing McCoy off as quickly as possible, Spock sucked the human deep into his throat and stroked him. He squeezed McCoy's ass in his hands and angled him deeper down his throat. He reached up once to gently press the doctor back onto the deck.

"Spock, I want..." McCoy trailed off, panting, trying not to come and not succeeding.

~

"I am unable to discuss this matter, Admiral, as it involves the Talljet brothers and I am uncertain of my position in regards to them at this time," Sarek said to Jessup's face in the viewer.

"I'm not interested in those pirates, Ambassador, I want to know what Sdiz and Yakolev are doing on Rovirin."

"I do not know, Admiral. As you know, I have been away for some time now. However, Ambassador Sdiz is a fully qualified Vulcan diplomat and he, like Yakolev, must be there at someone's behest, if not yours." Sarek did not care for Sdiz - the man was the worst combination of rich and vulgar. In the past, Sarek had had two difficult conversations with Sdiz: one about Hobie and the other about Jir, the subject of both was to encourage Sdiz to cease his pursuit. Sdiz had seen the logic of Sarek's argument in both cases, however, it left a pall between the men and they preferred not to work together if possible. However, whatever brought Sdiz to Rovirin was becoming more and more interesting to Sarek as he talked to Jessup.

"Ambassador, I don't care who sent them but I want them gone. I respectfully request that you, in the name of the Federation, assume responsibility for the situation on Rovirin." Jessup was nervous. He couldn't order the starships out of there because it would destabilize the entire quadrant. He could just feel the other sixty billion plus pirates in that sector breathing down his neck, waiting for the chance to pillage the Federation and non-aligned space that lay beyond Rovirin. 'Damn you, Yakolev. Talljet and his pirates were just making themselves useful and you had to go and ruin it.' He even spared a moment to regret the Klingons' departure, their presence on and around Rovirin had been useful as well in keeping the truly scary elements of that part of the galaxy in their own backyard.

"I cannot, Admiral," Sarek stated flatly. "As I understand the situation, Commodore Yakolev, in the name of the Federation, has seized Rovirin from the Talljets and the Klingons. I do not wish to antagonize either of these groups further. Were I to assume diplomatic leadership of this situation, both would conclude that I am in agreement with the actions of the Federation, when, in fact, I am in complete disagreement with the actions of the Federation in this matter." He drew a breath: "There is also a personal reason for my refusal. One of the Talljets and, indirectly, the Klingon Empire returned my life to me. I am in their debt."

~

McCoy placed his hand on Spock's flaccid penis and looked in the Vulcan's eyes.

"What's wrong, Spock, tell me."

"I do not understand the change in my father." He removed McCoy's hand and stood. He gave the doctor a hand up.

"Well," McCoy adjusted his clothes and smoothed his hair. "He looks okay, he says he's okay. What can you see that's different?"

"He seems sad. As if he is grieving for something. It is a human reaction I have never seen in my father." Spock looked at his lover. "I find it disconcerting."

McCoy put his arms around Spock and simply held him. He did not know what else to do.

part 41

"Your life would be infinitely simpler if you'd just fall in love with Kroldt and be done with it."

Maja looked over his cake and tea at Kzost: "I can't fall in love with him as long as you still live, Klingon. Amongst your kind, I only love you."

"Bah!"

"S'true. I'd swear it on Voren's life, I would."

"You leave Voren out of this. He knows you're jealous and he's giving you a wide berth."

"Jealous? Bah! I have your heart and that insect only has your body," Maja declaimed in his most arrogant Klingonese. "Which is getting older by the second. Doesn't your Vulcan take any care of you, KzostGhet?"

"He takes plenty of care of me, half Mage, so shut up or I'll go into detail until you blush."

"Ah, spare me, spare me." Maja drank some tea. "Listen, what if I didn't go back to the Commune? What if I went somewhere else, where no one knew me?"

"I would miss you."

Maja fought back his tears. "I'd tell you where I was and you could come see me sometimes. I could..."

"Maja," Kzost broke in gently, "what is this about?"

"I love him," Maja whispered as his tears spilled. "I just want to go somewhere and forget him. I don't want to see anyone I know, except you, or anything I know. I want ... I want to be with strangers in strange places. Thanks." He wiped his eyes on the handkerchief Kzost handed him and looked up. "Since when do Klingons carry hankies?"

"You've been crying since you got here, I'm trying to be flexible in this emergency." Kzost looked across the table at Maja and reminded himself that Maja was thirty-nine, not eight. "You know I will do whatever I can do for you, child, including dropping you in the far corner of the universe. However, please remember there are many people in the commune who love you very much and will be very glad to have you back with them. Have they ceased to matter to you?"

"Well, you know..."

"I know that Tien was born on this ship and I would be very sorry to tell him his parent has run away to forget yet another Vulcan lover."

"Klingon!"

"Or Hraja, or Farro or Prince Khat or that little apprentice with the big eyes you just took on, what's his name...?"

"Bhotebe."

"It's a terrible name but I saw that you like him. Are you leaving all that to mourn for another Vulcan lover you can't have?"

"Well, Klingon, some of us aren't as lucky as you with our Vulcans." Maja rose majestically and swept in front of Kzost on his way to the door.

He never got there. Kzost shot out an arm and pulled the half Mage onto his lap and held him there.

v "Hey! Let me go, ridgehead!"

"Don't squirm like that, mongrel, or I might have impure thoughts."

Maja snuggled into the big body of the one being he loved more than anyone. He relaxed against him and allowed himself to feel safe and loved for a moment. This was easy, he was very safe and very loved here.

"Do you know why I love Voren so much, Maja?"

"Yes, but tell me again, I like to hear it."

"Because finding you and your brothers a safe home was the most important thing to him on Magidrian. He would have done anything for that, for you. What kind of Vulcan is that?"

"A crazy one; like all his family."

"Yes, very crazy to follow me all these years, pretending to be a Rom, or Xochian or whatnot so he could stay by my side. What kind of a Vulcan does that?"

Maja was silent.

"And yet your Vulcans leave you, Maja, for this or that or the other thing over there or Star Fleet. I agree it's bad luck or bad karma or bad timing but mostly just that Sarek and his son are so stupid they can't see they've thrown away the finest being in all the universe."

"He wanted to stay with me, Klingon, we were going to stay together, but the bounty hunters came and I had to make a deal to save him and ..."

"And now? Where is he now?"

"I dunno. Half way to Vulcan, I guess."

v "Listen, MajaYaja, I don't disrespect Sarek the Vulcan. I've lived a little longer than you and have seen him stop wars, settle disputes and build alliances that will last a thousand years. I understand why you love him. He, of anyone in the galaxy, deserves your love. But he also knows that he's needed by many other people, too. Just as you are, Maja, just as you are."

Maja nodded sadly.

"So buck up, half Mage, bad times might be coming. The Emperor is sick and has no heir the Yhets and Haats can agree on. If he dies, the best hope is for Kroldt to step in as Regent for that sickly brat the Emperor's concubine squeezed out two years ago. Be Regent and rule until the Yhets and Haats find somebody they like better. Kroldt's the only one who can keep the Empire at peace and broker an agreement for the heir that won't tear the galaxy apart. And he's going to need all the help he can get, especially yours. The Haats lost some power when they lost Rovirin and you know what will happen if the Yhets are ascendant. The first groups they'll try to destroy are the Haats allies, which are you, me, the Hierophant, the commune and everything we care about."

They sat in silence contemplating this.

"And it's your own damn fault, Maja," Kzost growled after a moment. "I just wanted to put you and your babies in a safe place until the anti-Rom feeling died down in the Empire and that obscure commune seemed the perfect hide-out for you, Tien, Hraja and Prince Khat. How the hell did I know you were going to take over the Empire from the Hierophant's bed? I tell you, child, it's not my fault."

* * *

"So, Avara, what you're telling me is you tried to blackmail Sait, now known as Sarek of Vulcan, with the tape of him dancing with his gyharine, now known as Master Ghet of the Klingon Empire, and he told you to go to hell. Correct?" Obsta Fira leaned back in his arm chair, in his luxurious office on Broseria, surveying the late Nvra-miq's madam.

"Almost correct, Obsta. He said its dissemination did not concern him."

"Its what?" Taig put in, seated just behind Avara.

"Dissemination," she enunciated. " I had to ask, too. Means to spread something widely...."

"Like your legs?" Mogra asked, slouching by the window.

"Nope." Avara smiled at him. "Like the vid of Sait and Maja dancing at Nvra-miq's party."

"And he doesn't care," Obsta observed.

"Nope." Avara paused to put her plea in order. "Look Obsta, times are hard since Nvra-miq died. I've got a chance to start over, good house, good stable. All I need is the stake. I thought I could get it from Sait when I found out who he was but no go. What if I sell you the vid for half of what I asked him for?" She named a price that was triple what she'd asked Sarek.

Due to several very successful robberies, Obsta Fira was living large at the moment and took pity on Avara. Nevertheless, he haggled a little just for form and they finally agreed on half of what Avara was asking. He sent Taig off to get the amount in dilithium crystals.

"Here." Avara rose and handed him a disk. "Good luck, Obsta." She turned to go.

"How'd you get on Vulcan, Avara?" Obsta asked.

"Crystal cutter on Croza has a cousin who's an importer in the port on Vulcan," she tossed over her shoulder. "Name of MizqaDeVul, black sheep from some fancy Vulcan family. He's expensive but the docs are so good nobody asks you any questions. He got me in as a courier for a data company out on Nomsta in the old Tasilinian Empire..."

"Oh, yeah, what do they call it now it's Federationafied?"

"The Tasilinian Association."

They both made a face. Avara accepted the bag of crystals and turned to the door.

Obsta heard Taig ask her if she wanted to 'disseminate her legs' for him before she left. He did not hear the answer, he was too busy looking up MizqaDeVul's locator number.

* * *

Sarek had returned to Vulcan and moved into an apartment on the Strand. That the Strand was the most fashionable address in Shirkar was of little consideration. It was close to his office in the Vulcan Interplanetary Ministry. He could walk to and from work and he was doing just that when he heard footsteps mimicking his. Dusk was rapidly falling and he slowed down so Obsta Fira could come abreast of him.

"Hullo, Sait," Obsta murmured in a Rom dialect native to the Nzrealian homeworld. To Vulcan speakers, it sounded like ungrammatical Vulcan with a hellish accent but, fortunately for Obsta and his gang, it did not arouse anyone's suspicion.

"Hello," Sarek paused over what to call the thief. "Sir."

"Obsta Fira, Sait, I'm actually here on legit business." Obsta smiled, remembering how Mizqa had discovered that investment bankers in pursuit of development funding for one of the newest members of the Federation could get Nomsta visas into the Federation provided they had a real or imaginary corporation behind them somewhere. It was an hour's work for Obsta to cook up the First Bank of Kri and the paperwork flew on golden wings from there.

"Obsta." Sarek murmured, trying to suppress the rush of memory and longing for Maja the sight of this rascal provoked.

"Look, Sait, can't we go somewhere quiet and talk?"

"Yes. Come home with me. It is not far." Sarek turned and noticed a shadow nearby. "Are you alone?"

"Taig and Mogra."

"Bring them." The Vulcan moved off as Obsta beckoned his henchmen out of the shadows. They followed him down the street and into an elegant apartment building.

They settled into Sarek's featureless living room of rented furniture with the tea he offered them. They had refused wine as they wanted to keep their heads about them. All three had been deeply impressed by the almost effortless order of Shirkar and realized that one false move would give them away.

v "Here," Obsta said, handing the disk to Sarek. "It's you and Maja dancing at Nvra-miq's party on Imk. I heard what happened. Thought you might like to have it as a memento of all that."

"Thank you." Sarek accepted the disk and put it into the viewer next to him. "What did you hear, Obsta?"

"That the Klingons dragged Master Ghet out of your arms and back to the Gozshedrefreingin Commune. That his heart is broken and nobody cares as long as he makes statues for the Zhaharnisha Cathedral." Obsta paused to watch Sarek lower his eyes. "On the way here I heard you divorced your Terran wife and tried to resign your job but got talked out of it or threatened out of it by someone high up in the Federation. It's all very vague about you, seems the Vulcans don't like to gossip as much as the Klingons."

"Vague but true, Obsta. A member of my family convinced me my duty was to Vulcan more than myself and so I remained with the Interplanetary Ministry."

"But not with your wife?"

"No."

"You want him back, don't you?" Obsta asked after a short silence.

"More than anything."

Obsta gave this some thought. He'd never liked Maja much but he had always respected the love between him and Sait. And now, what was different? Although they were no longer Sait and gyharine, but two of the most powerful men in the galaxy, they were still as much in love as ever. At least Sait was and the rumors in the Klingon Empire were that Master Ghet was the same.

"Well, Sait, you're the smartest being I've ever met or heard of," Obsta drawled. "What are you going to do about it?"

* * *

"Getting to Zhaharnisha is a bit tricky, ma'am," the freighter captain said, as he surveyed the dusty woman before him. He knew she'd come to Hozlostra on a commercial craft but could not imagine why she wanted to go on to Zhaharnisha. There was nothing there but a bunch of Klingon monks. He was taking a load of Hozlostra marble from the quarry to them for the barracks they were building there. "I've got a stop on Lzoast and Vremaia first. I don't really have roompassengers, either. I do need a maid aboard, if you can do that."

"When do we leave?" Amanda asked.

* * *

Sarek sat watching the vid of him and Maja dancing a Shakaar on Imk over and over.

There had been an ugly scene on Rovirin with Amanda. Apparently the Federation bar had an arrangement with Star Fleet that Yeoman Notaries could serve papers on behalf of Federation attorneys anywhere in Federation space. SerCixz, Sarek's attorney, had had Amanda served before the Enterprise had returned.

"Why do you want a divorce, Sarek?" She had been very calm.

"I am no longer committed to you, Amanda."

"Why not?"

"My commitment has shifted to Maja Talljet."

"He is not here."

"That does not affect the situation."

"Sarek, what happened between you and Maja does not concern me. It does not affect our marriage."

"It does affect our marriage, Amanda. What happened between Maja and myself concerns me very much and I am entirely changed by it."

And another with T'Pau over the comm.

"I expect you to return to Vulcan and take up your duties. If you wish to divorce Amanda, so be it, but you must return here."

"I intend to seek out Maja Talljet in the Klingon Empire."

"Alone? That is unwise as you will see if you give it a moment's consideration. Far better to return here and make whatever arrangements you can through the Ministry and the family. I do not object to your liaison with Maja Talljet, although the Klingons are not likely to be so forgiving. Has it not occurred to you, Sarek, how beneficial Master Ghet's removal from the Klingon sphere of influence would be to the Federation?"

"No. It has not."

T'Pau's argument was compelling and he had returned alone. Amanda had remained on Rovirin to arrange transport to Terra from there.

As he watched the swirl of color and form that had been the most beautiful night of his life, Sarek let his conversation with the Hierophant play across his mind.

"You're willing to retire from diplomacy if I give you Master Ghet, Vulcan?"

"Yes."

* * *

"A much better dancer than his son, dontcha think, Nolos?" Hobie asked Jir and Ling on the viewscreen of the Zoltir.

They nodded but remained silent, watching Sarek and Maja dancing their Shakaar on Imk.

"What did you pay for this, Ling?" Hobie asked at length.

"Nothing, Hobie, it's all over non-aligned space," Ling answered. "It's the most beautiful story of doomed love to come out of the Sargasso Space in living memory. Even the Klingons are in tears about it."

"Not enough to send him back to Sarek?" Hobie asked, alarmed. He'd only recently felt like things were going back to normal. Jir with the Sultan of Orissa again, Ling in his joyhouse, himself back on his ships and Maja back in the Commune.

Ling and Jir shook their heads.

"Well, that's good," Hobie asserted.

"Not really, Hobie," Jir cut in sharply. "The Klingons might be in tears over this doomed love but it's also put Maja in danger. They might not know why Maja risked everything for the Vulcan but if they ask enough questions in the Federation they're bound to find out that Maja is our brother. Officially, the Klingons detest all of us. Unofficially, we have a lot of friends there. However, if someone powerful enough, say the Yhet clan, who truly despise us, decided it would be politically expedient to burn Maja at the stake because he is related to us evil Talljets, I FEEL CERTAIN YOU WON'T THINK THIS IS SUCH A GREAT THING ANYMORE."

"Jir, please,..." Hobie began.

"WERE WE STUPID, HOBIE? DID WE REALLY THINK WE COULD JUST SEND HIM BACK THERE AS IF NOTHING HAD HAPPENED?"

Hobie sat back to think about this. He had been so angry to see the love between Sarek and Maja, he had not really thought about how it had changed them and everything around them. His only thought had been to separate them and get Maja back where he could continue to do the most good for the brothers. Now that decision seemed as hasty to him as it obviously did to Jir.

"Okay, Jir, what do we do now?"

"Get them out of there, now."

"And take them where?"

"Somewhere, Hobie, it's a big galaxy, room for everyone."

PART 1V

WHAT OCCURRED AFTER MASTER GHET'S RETURN TO THE GOZSHEDREFREINGIN COMMUNE

Master Gozine Gozshedrefreingin Ghet of the Klingon Empire returned to the Gozshedrefreingin Commune in its new home on Zhaharnisha. His return was greeted with much rejoicing by his fellow communists but he cut it short, claiming to be tired and went to his studio.

An hour or so later Master Khat knocked on the big door and was told to go away. He went inside anyway and found Master Ghet staring out the window at the shell of the cathedral in the moonlight.

"Am I the only one in this room that's happy you're back?" Master Khat asked.

"Yes. Get out."

"Gozine." Master Khat sat down. "What happened?"

"I fell in love again, Maja." Master Ghet looked hard at his co-parent. "You know what a disaster that always is."

Master Khat lowered his eyes, remembering how hurt Gozine had been when Gozine had returned to being male and Master Khat had rejected him as a lover for that reason. They had made peace, become friends, raised the children and run the Commune together but the shadow of Gozine's hurt remained. He listened to Master Ghet's story without interrupting. And then he listened to the silence for a while.

"I'm sorry," he said at last.

"For what?" Master Ghet snapped.

"That you had to leave each other," he said quietly. "I'm sorry that you're suffering, again. I'm sorry I'm useless..."

"You're not useless, MajaKhat, I'm useless and foolish and reckless..." Master Ghet rose to pace the room. "I was willing to throw everything aside for love and I could not. I guess I'm gutless, too."

"I wouldn't say that, Gozine," Master Khat murmured. "Would you really have tossed it all?"

"Weren't for Hobie and Jir, I would have," Master Ghet said, looking his friend in the face. "Why not? The children are grown enough, you don't need me, the Commune could stagger along with the sculptors it has, so why not?"

"Lose you, Master, and we lose the protection of the Hierophant. Lose him and we lose the protection of the Haats. Lose that and we become fair game for any Klingon that wants us," Master Khat said slowly. "Or did that not occur to you in your love?"

Master Ghet lowered his eyes.

"Get out," he said slowly and turned to stare out the window until Master Khat had gone.

Master Ghet walked up to his workbench and inspected his tools neatly laid out for him. Someone, probably Hraja, had cleaned and sharpened the chisels. The studio was a big, clean and well lighted space made of temporary building material slapped up to house the Commune until they could move into the cathedral. Architectural drawings were pinned up around the workbench and desk so that Master Ghet could make sculptural decisions on the facade, altar and statuary. The overall design was like all Klingon cathedrals. It was to celebrate the virtues of strength, honor and fidelity.

Fidelity. Master Ghet could not decide if his problem was that he had too much or not enough fidelity.

'Well, as long as I am here, I might as well do some work,' he thought, tossing off the new cloak the Commune had presented him. He'd forgotten how heavy a Klingon Master's cloak is with all the runes on it.

Master Ghet took down the drawings of the facade of the cathedral and laid it on his table. He pulled over a sketch book and began to copy it in so as to have the feel of the structure under his own hands. Next he began to sketch in various designs for the frieze, columns and doors. Looking out at the moonlit Zhaharnisha landscape and the elegant lines of Master Whilla's structure set on the site chosen and prepared by Master Pzchaz, Gozine could feel his pain surrender to his art. He went to bed at moonset and thought of how much he missed going to sleep in Sarek's arms and that he would miss it for the rest of his life.

* * *

The tension between Masters Ghet and Khat was palpable. Everyone walked on eggs around them until it eventually abated.

Master Ghet was withdrawn and the Commune kept their respectful distance. He could not take any interest in the broken winged bird Hraja was nursing back to health, nor Farro's new feud with Kalzat, nor Master Khat's studio's magnificent mural for the sides of the Cathedral. Nothing was of interest to him except when he could lose himself in his own work and forget Sarek for a while. It occurred to Master Ghet that someday time would wear away the ache he felt and that made him even sadder for a while.

The Commune hired models when they needed them. They were expecting a female for the figure of St. Kzahran the Merciful, who was the central figure in Master Khat's mural on Klingon virtues. Mercy was not a popular Klingon virtue but Master Khat had decided to change the fashion by making Mercy, Grace, Love and Faith the theme of this mural for the cathedral on far away, obscure Zhaharnisha. Those who did not like it could go to hell and probably would. So the Commune was waiting for a female of a certain age to arrive from Drozerin.

Amanda had given her name to a young communist and off he went to get Master Ghet for her. The young communist had gone to Master Ghet's studio and been sent off by Hraja to get some twine before he could relay the message he was carrying.

Standing in the hall of the Commune, waiting for the child to return and lead her to Master Ghet, Amanda reviewed her intention. 'Keep your friends close and your enemies closer,' she had thought when she'd decided to bring Maja back to Sarek. She hoped Sarek would see the virtue in keeping her as wife and Maja as concubine and life could go on more or less as before. In such circumstances he would eventually see how ridiculous his infatuation with Maja was, at least she hoped he would. She had not really considered what a strange errand it was, nor what strangeness she might find on the way to and in the Commune. Amanda was therefore not sure if the men now circling her were some sort of welcoming dance or what.

"No, no, Fara, you're here to see me," Master Khat assured her in Rom, which she seemed to understand a little, and led her into his studio and closed the door, which meant 'enter at your peril.'

"Oh, perfect," Tien asserted upon seeing Amanda. "Right here, yes, step up there, thanks." The painters began to circle again.

"I think there might be some mistake," Amanda said slowly.

"She's right," Master Khat said firmly. "She should be nude and draped." He grabbed Amanda by the hand and dragged her over to a curtain. "In there, you can hang up your clothes and wrap that silk around you." He pushed her inside. "Look at the drawings and try to get the draperies as close as possible."

Amanda started to protest but then her eye fell on the drawings for the mural and she began to undress - quickly.

~

"I'm here to see Master Khat," the model said to Hraja, who'd come out to look for the little communist he'd sent for twine.

Hraja frowned at the closed painting studio door: "Come sit in here for a moment and have some tea until they break." He led her into the kitchen, made her a cup of tea and checked on his patient.

"Hey, what kind of bird is that?" the model asked.

"One that can almost fly again," Hraja smiled at her as he went back to Master Ghet's studio.

part 42

"And where have you been, little one?" Hraja asked sternly of the little communist.

"I couldn't find the twine in Master Ghet's storeroom, I had to go to Master Whilla and he made me sweep his studio and make tea before I could leave. Then Master Dhec had me count bars of bronze while he and Farro cast in vreisimine. They called me over to watch because I might want to be a metal sculptor when I grow up. But now I'm here and I have a message for Master Ghet from a beautiful lady that wants to see him."

"You'd better tell him, then," Hraja grimaced, thinking of the beautiful lady he'd left in the kitchen some time ago and led the child to Master Ghet.

They waited until the Master deigned to notice them.

"There's a lady named Amamasark here to see you, Master," the child announced.

"Amamasark?" Master Ghet repeated, puzzled. 'Amama Sark. Amamda. Amanda. AMANDA SAREK.' He went all cold inside and put down his tools before he dropped them. "Show me this lady."

"I put her in the kitchen, Master," Hraja volunteered as he and the child trotted at Master Ghet's heels.

"You're not Amamasark," Master Ghet said, nonplused, to the furious model in the kitchen.

"Who the fuck is she? I'm here to model for Master Khat and if he doesn't need me then pay me and me let me go on my way."

"Hraja, why..." Master Ghet began.

"His door was closed like they were working, you know I can't open those doors when they're closed, Master," Hraja protested quickly. Since childhood, this was the one rule no one beneath a Master broke. The Masters themselves very seldom interrupted each other when their studio doors were closed.

This was, however, an emergency and Master Ghet led the model, Hraja and the little communist to the painting studio. He hesitated and knocked softly.

"GO AWAY! WE'RE WORKING!"

Master Ghet stepped back from the door and drew a breath. He flung the doors wide and marched in at the head of his little party.

"WHAT THE HELL ARE YOU DOING, GOZINE?" Master Khat flung down his palette and pointed at Master Ghet.

"WHAT THE HELL IS SHE DOING, MAJAKHAT?" Master Ghet roared back, pointing at Amanda.

Tien was very much reminded of a painting he'd seen on Bazeria of the trial of a Frocusion revolutionary leader. Same composition of pointing fingers and angry faces. He looked up to see their St. Kzahran gazing mildly at the ferocious Master Ghet.

"I'm modeling," she said.

* * *

"No, she's fantastic and I was right to keep her," Master Khat was arguing with Master Ghet yet again about Amanda.

"I guess," Master Ghet said ruefully, wondering if MajaKhat meant as a model for St. Kzahran, for which even Master Ghet privately admitted she was superb, or in his bed or both. "Whatever you want, just keep her away from me." He marched back into his own studio.

There had not been a scene that first morning. Master Khat had ordered Master Ghet out of his studio and Master Ghet had gone, taking Amanda with him. There had been some angry words from Master Khat about that but in the interest of peace and not tearing the model's arms off, he had relented. After all, the transports had gone and he doubted Master Ghet was going to kill her. He let her go, assured she would soon be back on the model stand. Besides, it was lunch time and everyone was very hungry.

Master Ghet led Amanda to his studio and closed the door. He walked to the far end of the room and wheeled on the last person he'd expected to ever see again in this life.

"What the hell are you doing here?" he snarled in his heavily Rom accented Vulcan.

"I've come to congratulate you, Maja ..."

"Don't call me that! Call me Master Ghet."

"Then I've come to congratulate you, Master Ghet," Amanda said slowly. "You have done what I thought could not be done."

"Which is?" Master Ghet prompted after a moment of silence.

"Swayed Sarek's promise to me," Amanda said quietly.

Master Ghet waved her to a chair and sat on the other side of the room.

"You came all this way for that, Terran?"

"No, I want you to come back to Vulcan with me. I believe a suitable arrangement can be made for all of us," Amanda said, thinking, 'Keep your friends close and your enemies closer.'

"Oh? Such as?"

"I do not know. I will know on Vulcan."

"I know what 'arrangement' you mean, Amanda," Master Ghet snarled. "Probably the same one I was offered by T'Pau for Spock. Shame, secrecy, a little house somewhere, the occasional visit, never an entire night, never a public, legitimate or legal bond, nothing of my own, just whatever you leave me. Is that what you've come to offer me, Terran, your leavings?"

"No, Master. Sarek has divorced me."

"Why?"

"For you, I assumed," Amanda said quietly. "He said he had shifted his commitment to you. I assumed he was divorcing me so he could marry you. He told T'Pau he wished to return to you."

"What did the old witch say?" Master Ghet wondered if they were talking about the same Sarek. The one he'd last seen on Hobie's ship was fully resigned to the needs of the many over the needs of each other.

Amanda fought back her tears. "She said she did not object to the liaison." Even T'Pau had forsaken her in the end.

Master Ghet narrowed his eyes at Amanda: "T'Pau's objection or approval mean nothing to me."

"Why do you hate me?" Amanda eventually asked in the ensuing silence.

"Do you think that's why we fell in love, Amanda, because I hate you?" Master Ghet asked coldly. "What an ego you have. You were the last thing on my mind."

"I know why you fell in love with Sarek," Amanda said slowly. "I know very well why." She held the Master's cold eyes. "And I know why he fell in love with you. I'm sure they are the same reasons Spock had."

"Leave Spock out of this." Master Ghet stood and began to pace.

"As you wish. I've come to ask you to go back to Sarek. He needs you, he loves you. He admits it is not logical but there it is. I could not inspire these things in him but I will not stand in your way Maj... Master. I have learned how unwise that is."

"What do you mean?" Master Ghet stopped his pacing and stood outlined by the light slanting in the window.

"I saw what losing you has done to Spock. I prefer not to see it happen to Sarek as well."

Master Ghet was silent. Amanda continued: "I regret that I did not support your cause on Vulcan because I now realize you really were a far better choice for Spock than T'Pring, even though Sarek was opposed to you."

Master Ghet was silent. Amanda continued: "I had hoped that Spock could somehow satisfy his father and himself by following the Vulcan way, at least in his marriage to T'Pring."

Master Ghet was silent. Amanda continued: "I thought all would be well when they had children. I must admit that the issue of children went against you with me on Vulcan."

Master Ghet opened his window and threw up. When he'd finished vomiting, he rinsed his mouth with cold Relan tea from the morning and stared at Amanda with cold, dead eyes.

"Do you really want to know why I hate you, Amanda?"

She nodded.

"Because you were the one person on Vulcan that could have told me I was in love and not insane and you did not." He watched Amanda lower her eyes. "I thought I would die of that madness and you simply watched me suffer. You didn't care what happened to me as long as you could live a quiet life with your son and husband. You've had everything - love, a child, a husband, security, position, a past, a future - but you could not spare five minutes of kindness on me. I know too well how cruel you Humans are but my mind was clouded by the idea that Spock's mother might be different from the rest of her species. I was wrong then and I do not care how you suffer now. In fact, I hope you suffer tremendously. You won't die, I can assure you of that - although you might wish you could." He crossed the room and opened the door. "Now get out. I want you on the next transport going anywhere, even if it's a Klingon training ship. Until then I do not want to see or hear you."

Weeks later Amanda was still part of the Commune, adored by everyone except Master Ghet and had become MajaKhat's lover.

Hraja had tried to maintain a polite distance from Amanda out of respect for Master Ghet but he was touched by her interest in his sick bird and her gentleness that reminded him so much of his own. She, like he, was a good listener and for the first time in his life Hraja was able to talk to someone who would not interrupt him. He found himself telling her all the hopes and dreams and fears for the future he held in his seventeen year old heart. He wanted to be a Master Sculptor like Master Ghet and live in the Commune for the rest of his life. Hraja could see no better future than that and he prayed for it with his whole being.

Amanda gave Master Ghet a wide berth. This was not difficult as the Commune was completely engrossed in its work on the cathedral and the areas of painting and sculpture did not overlap at that point. She spent most of her time with the painters and MajaKhat. They'd tumbled into bed the second night of her residency and her sorrow had lifted a little. It was consoling to know someone still wanted her and that MajaKhat was beautiful did not decrease her pleasure.

He was also a great artist. Amanda was not schooled in art but she knew when something spoke to her soul. She'd been deeply moved by the mural sketches, even in their rough form they had moved her greatly. She'd suddenly found her deepest wish was to be a part of their creation and was relieved that Master Khat would not allow Master Ghet to send her away.

Amanda found life in the Commune very much to her liking as well. Everyone was always busy, always interested in what they were doing. They took their meals together and it was like being part of a big, happy, hard working family. Tien, Kalzat, Hraja, Farro, Polmira, Lyra and Bot liked her gentle ways very much and were especially attentive to making her feel at home. She couldn't pick up the Patois but everyone spoke Standard to her once they discovered it was the language she was most comfortable in. She was impressed that they spoke it so well and was told that the Masters had decided it was something the Commune needed to know. To accomplish this, the Masters had bought some Standard speaking humanoids and they had lived in the Commune for a few years before going home.

"Home?" She'd asked.

"Home." Tien shrugged. "They left, they said they were going home, we did not ask any questions."

Amanda found the communists brusque but not rude. They were too busy to waste words and too happy to be unkind.

* * *

"You're willing to retire from diplomacy if I give you Master Ghet, Vulcan?"

"Yes."

Hierophant Kroldt sat back to review the series of events leading to this remarkable conversation with Sarek of Vulcan.

He had ignored the Vulcan's first contact and continued to ignore his messages until General KmordriYhet had demanded an appointment with him. The general had brought a half Nzrealian banker named Obsta Fira with him. Apparently, Obsta Fira was a friend of a friend of a friend of a friend's soldier of fortune somewhere out in the back of beyond in Klingon space. The Hierophant could not but be impressed that this rascal could get to him with such ease. Where was the half Nzrealian's awe of his exalted position? Where was Kmordri's respect for his ecclesiastical privacy? And why did they only want to talk about Sarek and Master Ghet?

"Let me understand this," Kroldt said majestically in Klingon. He paused, majestically, waiting for Obsta's translator to catch up. "You want me to send Gozine the Confessor to Sarek of Vulcan because the Vulcan wants him."

"Yes." Obsta and Kmordri were in perfect agreement for very different reasons.

Obsta had been moved to the core by Sarek's love for Maja. He was so happy he could still be deeply moved by anything, he'd had promised Sarek he would do whatever he could to bring them back together. He'd ignored the Vulcan's objections because now Obsta felt he was on some sort of spiritual quest and nothing could stop him. His ardor had carried him all the way to the Hierophant, who now sat staring at him in disbelief. He could not know he was making KmordriYhet's fondest dream come true.

KmordriYhet was not so romantic. He was one of the smarter members of his clan and had been looking for a way to peacefully remove Master Ghet from the Klingon Empire for years. Being intelligent, Kmordri had realized early on that the strange alliance between the Hierophant (whom he respected), Master Ghet (whom he feared), the Tossarian pirates (whom he distrusted), and the Haat clan (whom he loathed) threatened to overtake the power of the Yhet clan.

The Haats and Yhets had lived in an uneasy balance of power for three centuries. In order not to kill themselves, they had compromised by putting the Tzaj clan on the Imperial throne and thus far that had been a successful arrangement for all of them. There were bumpy times: none of them were angels, each grabbed up as much power and position as they could and the Tzaj were experts at playing each against the other. Until recently all was well; until the Haats began to consolidate their holdings into real and lasting power with the aid of their allies inside and outside the Empire.

This was the worst part. How dare the Haats make alliances outside the Empire that were not with the Romulans? It was unheard of and, moreover, unnatural. The Yhets had earned their xenophobia from certain unpleasant events concerning offworlders in their history. They had a better relationship with the Romulans than any other clan but even that was rocky. The mainstay of that was Admiral KzaxreaYhet's 'friendship' with the Rom emperor, who was, unfortunately, dying. Admiral Kzaxrea had arranged the failed marriage between the Klingon and Romulan emperors' younger children. Kmordri still regretted the dissolution of that union. Malira had been the Yhet's greatest ally in the palace until the anti-Rom feeling sprang up and threatened to kill her. The marriage and heir had had so much potential for the total domination of both empires, alas.

It was General Kmordri's mission in life to knock the supports out from under the Haat clan whenever and wherever he could. He was, therefore, delighted when the Obsta Fira person was described to him as someone who could help him do just that. Kmordri had given serious thought to the Kroldt-Ghet-Tossarian-Haat alliance. A strange alliance, but not unassailable, as he now saw.

Kroldt had listened patiently, if not suspiciously, to Obsta Fira's plea. KmordriYhet seemed not to have any reason for supporting the half Nzreali except as a favor to some friend of a friend etc. Kroldt assured them he would pray for guidance in this matter and told them to get out. He was wary of anything Kmordri supported because he was wary of anything that Yhet was involved in. It was Kroldt's opinion that there was nothing more dangerous in creation than a Yhet with some real intelligence. Especially if it was brought into play against you.

And now Sarek of Vulcan was willing to leave diplomacy forever if he could have Master Ghet. It was a dream come true - sideways.

Kroldt was as wary of Sarek as of Kmordri and for the same reasons. The Hierophant had never met Sarek before but certainly felt his influence in his past dealings with the Federation. Sarek was smart, fast and knew where the Klingons were weak. The Vulcan had brokered a peace in a war that was going very nicely in non-aligned space. A war that the Klingons, the Haats especially, were waiting patiently to exhaust the participants so they could swoop in and take over the entire sector without firing a shot. It would have given them a nice, long, hard to guard frontier with the Federation and even left some Federation outposts inside Klingon space. Alas, it had all ended badly - the warring planets had even applied for membership in the Federation, adding insult onto injury. This was but one of many such outrages committed by Sarek of Vulcan against the Hierophant Kroldt. He could mention all the borderline planets Sarek had lured away from the Klingons to the Federation, all the treaties that gave the Klingons a short shrift or excluded them entirely, all the trade agreements that left the Klingons out of the loot. He could go on and on but life was short and he had other things to do.

And now this bizarre miracle had occurred: the evil Vulcan was so smitten with Gozine he'd give it all up for the little one. Well, Kroldt himself was rather smitten, had been for the past thirteen years and was now not entirely sure he could lose him. Not to mention allow the Empire to lose one of its finest artisans and priests.

Kroldt was evolved enough to put himself in Sarek's position for a moment. He didn't like it; it was painful. It was even made worse by the fact that Kroldt might actually be in that position himself in the near future.

The Hierophant still did not know why Gozine had risked his life for the Vulcan. Gozine's answer was that god had told him to rescue Sarek. Kroldt had not disputed this much: there were too many times in the past when Gozine had done something at 'god's behest' that turned out to be not only brilliant but beneficial to the Church, the Haats and, strangely, the Tossarian pirates.

That was rather odd and the Hierophant had given much thought as to why, since becoming intimate with Gozine, the Haats had suddenly made peace with the Tossarians. The peace was led by General KizjietHaat, whose confession Gozine had been hearing for years. Kroldt felt there was a connection there but the wealth and power afforded by this dubious alliance stilled his scruples.

Now he had this welcome and unwelcome offer from Sarek before him. It was a difficult decision; he would pray for guidance. He called for his ships and crew. He would pray for guidance on his way to Zhaharnisha.

* * *

"Stay out of their scanner range, Qwuushi."

"Looks like a Klingon convention on Zhaharnisha, Hobie." Neria-Tza was nervous in spite of his cool appearance on the bridge of the Dancer. Grabbing a Klingon Commune out from under the ridgeheads was nervous-making enough, now he wondered if they weren't betrayed.

"No, they'd send more than four warships and the Hierophant wouldn't be anywhere near here if they knew our errand and expected a fight," Hobie answered the XochiCheq's thought. "Those aren't Haat warships either." He turned to the communications station. "Mizat, who are those guys?"

"Based on their communications, I'd say they're Yhets or their agents." Mizat could break almost any encryption code and liked to flaunt this fact.

"Are they escorting the Hierophant?" That would be strange indeed, the Hierophant was usually escorted by the Haat clan.

"I don't think so. They're staying out of the Hierophant's flotilla's scanner range as well."

"That makes me very nervous," Hobie mumbled, thinking he'd like to warn the Commune but any subspace transmission in that direction would give them away and he only had this one ship: the Dancer - built for comfort, not for speed. He had not expected to meet anyone all the way out here at Zhaharnisha. 'What good is second sight if it cuts out just when you need it?' he thought ruefully. "Well, let's see what they do." He turned to Mizat. "Have the Maja, Yaja, Tien and the Zoltir head this way just in case we need them." He regretted that his new ship, the Maria Norris, was not spaceworthy yet. She was a beauty.

* * *

"The Hierophant has just arrived!" Tien flew into Master Ghet's studio and back into the Commune, which was trying to pull itself together for the Hierophantical visit.

Master Ghet looked at the half finished sculpture he had been wholly engaged in. "Oh, shit." He handed his tools to Hraja and went to change into a cassock. When it was warm enough he liked to work in a loin cloth, however, he could not greet the Hierophant in that. At least, not in front of the Commune.

He had just gotten the cassock on when the Hierophant's escort teleported into his studio and arrested him in the name of the most Holy Klingon Imperial Church.

An hour after that KmordriYhet's men arrested Master Khat and took Hraja, because he was Khat's son, and Amanda, because she was obviously Khat's lover (no woman fights like that for a mere acquaintance's son), as hostages to guarantee Master Khat's good behavior.

As soon as they were gone, Hobie and Neria-Tza found the Commune in an uproar. They heard the news and ordered everyone onto the Dancer with whatever they could pack in five minutes.

* * *

"You might have given me a chance to pack, Master," Master Ghet said coolly to the Hierophant.

"You don't need anything from there, Gozine," Kroldt said. "You can buy whatever you need in you new life."

"Which is what, Master?"

"I don't know. It does not concern me. I will miss you."

"Then don't send me away," Master Ghet looked at his lover with big eyes. The 'new life' Kroldt kept on about concerned the MageCheq very much. Kroldt was keeping his distance so Gozine could get nothing useful out of his telefield except flashes of sadness and loss.

Kroldt kept his distance for fear that if he let down his guard with Gozine he would lose his resolve to hand him over to Sarek. He had made his decision and contacted Sarek to meet him on Hzabeda. It was the most intelligent thing to do. Painful, but Kroldt knew he would get over it someday. Also, Gozine was only a mere slave in the Empire and it was foolish to become so attached to property.

"It is done, Master Ghet." The Hierophant rose to go. "For the greater glory of the most holy Klingon Church you will preach a sermon to the Hzabedaians before you leave your life in religion. The subject of this sermon is obedience. I will leave you to meditate on the subject." He swept out majestically, leaving Master Ghet to contemplate obedience in all its forms.

part 42

"And where have you been, little one?" Hraja asked sternly of the little communist.

"I couldn't find the twine in Master Ghet's storeroom, I had to go to Master Whilla and he made me sweep his studio and make tea before I could leave. Then Master Dhec had me count bars of bronze while he and Farro cast in vreisimine. They called me over to watch because I might want to be a metal sculptor when I grow up. But now I'm here and I have a message for Master Ghet from a beautiful lady that wants to see him."

"You'd better tell him, then," Hraja grimaced, thinking of the beautiful lady he'd left in the kitchen some time ago and led the child to Master Ghet.

They waited until the Master deigned to notice them.

"There's a lady named Amamasark here to see you, Master," the child announced.

"Amamasark?" Master Ghet repeated, puzzled. 'Amama Sark. Amamda. Amanda. AMANDA SAREK.' He went all cold inside and put down his tools before he dropped them. "Show me this lady."

"I put her in the kitchen, Master," Hraja volunteered as he and the child trotted at Master Ghet's heels.

"You're not Amamasark," Master Ghet said, nonplused, to the furious model in the kitchen.

"Who the fuck is she? I'm here to model for Master Khat and if he doesn't need me then pay me and me let me go on my way."

"Hraja, why..." Master Ghet began.

"His door was closed like they were working, you know I can't open those doors when they're closed, Master," Hraja protested quickly. Since childhood, this was the one rule no one beneath a Master broke. The Masters themselves very seldom interrupted each other when their studio doors were closed.

This was, however, an emergency and Master Ghet led the model, Hraja and the little communist to the painting studio. He hesitated and knocked softly.

"GO AWAY! WE'RE WORKING!"

Master Ghet stepped back from the door and drew a breath. He flung the doors wide and marched in at the head of his little party.

"WHAT THE HELL ARE YOU DOING, GOZINE?" Master Khat flung down his palette and pointed at Master Ghet.

"WHAT THE HELL IS SHE DOING, MAJAKHAT?" Master Ghet roared back, pointing at Amanda.

Tien was very much reminded of a painting he'd seen on Bazeria of the trial of a Frocusion revolutionary leader. Same composition of pointing fingers and angry faces. He looked up to see their St. Kzahran gazing mildly at the ferocious Master Ghet.

"I'm modeling," she said.

* * *

"No, she's fantastic and I was right to keep her," Master Khat was arguing with Master Ghet yet again about Amanda.

"I guess," Master Ghet said ruefully, wondering if MajaKhat meant as a model for St. Kzahran, for which even Master Ghet privately admitted she was superb, or in his bed or both. "Whatever you want, just keep her away from me." He marched back into his own studio.

There had not been a scene that first morning. Master Khat had ordered Master Ghet out of his studio and Master Ghet had gone, taking Amanda with him. There had been some angry words from Master Khat about that but in the interest of peace and not tearing the model's arms off, he had relented. After all, the transports had gone and he doubted Master Ghet was going to kill her. He let her go, assured she would soon be back on the model stand. Besides, it was lunch time and everyone was very hungry.

Master Ghet led Amanda to his studio and closed the door. He walked to the far end of the room and wheeled on the last person he'd expected to ever see again in this life.

"What the hell are you doing here?" he snarled in his heavily Rom accented Vulcan.

"I've come to congratulate you, Maja ..."

"Don't call me that! Call me Master Ghet."

"Then I've come to congratulate you, Master Ghet," Amanda said slowly. "You have done what I thought could not be done."

"Which is?" Master Ghet prompted after a moment of silence.

"Swayed Sarek's promise to me," Amanda said quietly.

Master Ghet waved her to a chair and sat on the other side of the room.

"You came all this way for that, Terran?"

"No, I want you to come back to Vulcan with me. I believe a suitable arrangement can be made for all of us," Amanda said, thinking, 'Keep your friends close and your enemies closer.'

"Oh? Such as?"

"I do not know. I will know on Vulcan."

"I know what 'arrangement' you mean, Amanda," Master Ghet snarled. "Probably the same one I was offered by T'Pau for Spock. Shame, secrecy, a little house somewhere, the occasional visit, never an entire night, never a public, legitimate or legal bond, nothing of my own, just whatever you leave me. Is that what you've come to offer me, Terran, your leavings?"

"No, Master. Sarek has divorced me."

"Why?"

"For you, I assumed," Amanda said quietly. "He said he had shifted his commitment to you. I assumed he was divorcing me so he could marry you. He told T'Pau he wished to return to you."

"What did the old witch say?" Master Ghet wondered if they were talking about the same Sarek. The one he'd last seen on Hobie's ship was fully resigned to the needs of the many over the needs of each other.

Amanda fought back her tears. "She said she did not object to the liaison." Even T'Pau had forsaken her in the end.

Master Ghet narrowed his eyes at Amanda: "T'Pau's objection or approval mean nothing to me."

"Why do you hate me?" Amanda eventually asked in the ensuing silence.

"Do you think that's why we fell in love, Amanda, because I hate you?" Master Ghet asked coldly. "What an ego you have. You were the last thing on my mind."

"I know why you fell in love with Sarek," Amanda said slowly. "I know very well why." She held the Master's cold eyes. "And I know why he fell in love with you. I'm sure they are the same reasons Spock had."

"Leave Spock out of this." Master Ghet stood and began to pace.

"As you wish. I've come to ask you to go back to Sarek. He needs you, he loves you. He admits it is not logical but there it is. I could not inspire these things in him but I will not stand in your way Maj... Master. I have learned how unwise that is."

"What do you mean?" Master Ghet stopped his pacing and stood outlined by the light slanting in the window.

"I saw what losing you has done to Spock. I prefer not to see it happen to Sarek as well."

Master Ghet was silent. Amanda continued: "I regret that I did not support your cause on Vulcan because I now realize you really were a far better choice for Spock than T'Pring, even though Sarek was opposed to you."

Master Ghet was silent. Amanda continued: "I had hoped that Spock could somehow satisfy his father and himself by following the Vulcan way, at least in his marriage to T'Pring."

Master Ghet was silent. Amanda continued: "I thought all would be well when they had children. I must admit that the issue of children went against you with me on Vulcan."

Master Ghet opened his window and threw up. When he'd finished vomiting, he rinsed his mouth with cold Relan tea from the morning and stared at Amanda with cold, dead eyes.

"Do you really want to know why I hate you, Amanda?"

She nodded.

"Because you were the one person on Vulcan that could have told me I was in love and not insane and you did not." He watched Amanda lower her eyes. "I thought I would die of that madness and you simply watched me suffer. You didn't care what happened to me as long as you could live a quiet life with your son and husband. You've had everything - love, a child, a husband, security, position, a past, a future - but you could not spare five minutes of kindness on me. I know too well how cruel you Humans are but my mind was clouded by the idea that Spock's mother might be different from the rest of her species. I was wrong then and I do not care how you suffer now. In fact, I hope you suffer tremendously. You won't die, I can assure you of that - although you might wish you could." He crossed the room and opened the door. "Now get out. I want you on the next transport going anywhere, even if it's a Klingon training ship. Until then I do not want to see or hear you."

Weeks later Amanda was still part of the Commune, adored by everyone except Master Ghet and had become MajaKhat's lover.

Hraja had tried to maintain a polite distance from Amanda out of respect for Master Ghet but he was touched by her interest in his sick bird and her gentleness that reminded him so much of his own. She, like he, was a good listener and for the first time in his life Hraja was able to talk to someone who would not interrupt him. He found himself telling her all the hopes and dreams and fears for the future he held in his seventeen year old heart. He wanted to be a Master Sculptor like Master Ghet and live in the Commune for the rest of his life. Hraja could see no better future than that and he prayed for it with his whole being.

Amanda gave Master Ghet a wide berth. This was not difficult as the Commune was completely engrossed in its work on the cathedral and the areas of painting and sculpture did not overlap at that point. She spent most of her time with the painters and MajaKhat. They'd tumbled into bed the second night of her residency and her sorrow had lifted a little. It was consoling to know someone still wanted her and that MajaKhat was beautiful did not decrease her pleasure.

He was also a great artist. Amanda was not schooled in art but she knew when something spoke to her soul. She'd been deeply moved by the mural sketches, even in their rough form they had moved her greatly. She'd suddenly found her deepest wish was to be a part of their creation and was relieved that Master Khat would not allow Master Ghet to send her away.

Amanda found life in the Commune very much to her liking as well. Everyone was always busy, always interested in what they were doing. They took their meals together and it was like being part of a big, happy, hard working family. Tien, Kalzat, Hraja, Farro, Polmira, Lyra and Bot liked her gentle ways very much and were especially attentive to making her feel at home. She couldn't pick up the Patois but everyone spoke Standard to her once they discovered it was the language she was most comfortable in. She was impressed that they spoke it so well and was told that the Masters had decided it was something the Commune needed to know. To accomplish this, the Masters had bought some Standard speaking humanoids and they had lived in the Commune for a few years before going home.

"Home?" She'd asked.

"Home." Tien shrugged. "They left, they said they were going home, we did not ask any questions."

Amanda found the communists brusque but not rude. They were too busy to waste words and too happy to be unkind.

* * *

"You're willing to retire from diplomacy if I give you Master Ghet, Vulcan?"

"Yes."

Hierophant Kroldt sat back to review the series of events leading to this remarkable conversation with Sarek of Vulcan.

He had ignored the Vulcan's first contact and continued to ignore his messages until General KmordriYhet had demanded an appointment with him. The general had brought a half Nzrealian banker named Obsta Fira with him. Apparently, Obsta Fira was a friend of a friend of a friend of a friend's soldier of fortune somewhere out in the back of beyond in Klingon space. The Hierophant could not but be impressed that this rascal could get to him with such ease. Where was the half Nzrealian's awe of his exalted position? Where was Kmordri's respect for his ecclesiastical privacy? And why did they only want to talk about Sarek and Master Ghet?

"Let me understand this," Kroldt said majestically in Klingon. He paused, majestically, waiting for Obsta's translator to catch up. "You want me to send Gozine the Confessor to Sarek of Vulcan because the Vulcan wants him."

"Yes." Obsta and Kmordri were in perfect agreement for very different reasons.

Obsta had been moved to the core by Sarek's love for Maja. He was so happy he could still be deeply moved by anything, he'd had promised Sarek he would do whatever he could to bring them back together. He'd ignored the Vulcan's objections because now Obsta felt he was on some sort of spiritual quest and nothing could stop him. His ardor had carried him all the way to the Hierophant, who now sat staring at him in disbelief. He could not know he was making KmordriYhet's fondest dream come true.

KmordriYhet was not so romantic. He was one of the smarter members of his clan and had been looking for a way to peacefully remove Master Ghet from the Klingon Empire for years. Being intelligent, Kmordri had realized early on that the strange alliance between the Hierophant (whom he respected), Master Ghet (whom he feared), the Tossarian pirates (whom he distrusted), and the Haat clan (whom he loathed) threatened to overtake the power of the Yhet clan.

The Haats and Yhets had lived in an uneasy balance of power for three centuries. In order not to kill themselves, they had compromised by putting the Tzaj clan on the Imperial throne and thus far that had been a successful arrangement for all of them. There were bumpy times: none of them were angels, each grabbed up as much power and position as they could and the Tzaj were experts at playing each against the other. Until recently all was well; until the Haats began to consolidate their holdings into real and lasting power with the aid of their allies inside and outside the Empire.

This was the worst part. How dare the Haats make alliances outside the Empire that were not with the Romulans? It was unheard of and, moreover, unnatural. The Yhets had earned their xenophobia from certain unpleasant events concerning offworlders in their history. They had a better relationship with the Romulans than any other clan but even that was rocky. The mainstay of that was Admiral KzaxreaYhet's 'friendship' with the Rom emperor, who was, unfortunately, dying. Admiral Kzaxrea had arranged the failed marriage between the Klingon and Romulan emperors' younger children. Kmordri still regretted the dissolution of that union. Malira had been the Yhet's greatest ally in the palace until the anti-Rom feeling sprang up and threatened to kill her. The marriage and heir had had so much potential for the total domination of both empires, alas.

It was General Kmordri's mission in life to knock the supports out from under the Haat clan whenever and wherever he could. He was, therefore, delighted when the Obsta Fira person was described to him as someone who could help him do just that. Kmordri had given serious thought to the Kroldt-Ghet-Tossarian-Haat alliance. A strange alliance, but not unassailable, as he now saw.

Kroldt had listened patiently, if not suspiciously, to Obsta Fira's plea. KmordriYhet seemed not to have any reason for supporting the half Nzreali except as a favor to some friend of a friend etc. Kroldt assured them he would pray for guidance in this matter and told them to get out. He was wary of anything Kmordri supported because he was wary of anything that Yhet was involved in. It was Kroldt's opinion that there was nothing more dangerous in creation than a Yhet with some real intelligence. Especially if it was brought into play against you.

And now Sarek of Vulcan was willing to leave diplomacy forever if he could have Master Ghet. It was a dream come true - sideways.

Kroldt was as wary of Sarek as of Kmordri and for the same reasons. The Hierophant had never met Sarek before but certainly felt his influence in his past dealings with the Federation. Sarek was smart, fast and knew where the Klingons were weak. The Vulcan had brokered a peace in a war that was going very nicely in non-aligned space. A war that the Klingons, the Haats especially, were waiting patiently to exhaust the participants so they could swoop in and take over the entire sector without firing a shot. It would have given them a nice, long, hard to guard frontier with the Federation and even left some Federation outposts inside Klingon space. Alas, it had all ended badly - the warring planets had even applied for membership in the Federation, adding insult onto injury. This was but one of many such outrages committed by Sarek of Vulcan against the Hierophant Kroldt. He could mention all the borderline planets Sarek had lured away from the Klingons to the Federation, all the treaties that gave the Klingons a short shrift or excluded them entirely, all the trade agreements that left the Klingons out of the loot. He could go on and on but life was short and he had other things to do.

And now this bizarre miracle had occurred: the evil Vulcan was so smitten with Gozine he'd give it all up for the little one. Well, Kroldt himself was rather smitten, had been for the past thirteen years and was now not entirely sure he could lose him. Not to mention allow the Empire to lose one of its finest artisans and priests.

Kroldt was evolved enough to put himself in Sarek's position for a moment. He didn't like it; it was painful. It was even made worse by the fact that Kroldt might actually be in that position himself in the near future.

The Hierophant still did not know why Gozine had risked his life for the Vulcan. Gozine's answer was that god had told him to rescue Sarek. Kroldt had not disputed this much: there were too many times in the past when Gozine had done something at 'god's behest' that turned out to be not only brilliant but beneficial to the Church, the Haats and, strangely, the Tossarian pirates.

That was rather odd and the Hierophant had given much thought as to why, since becoming intimate with Gozine, the Haats had suddenly made peace with the Tossarians. The peace was led by General KizjietHaat, whose confession Gozine had been hearing for years. Kroldt felt there was a connection there but the wealth and power afforded by this dubious alliance stilled his scruples.

Now he had this welcome and unwelcome offer from Sarek before him. It was a difficult decision; he would pray for guidance. He called for his ships and crew. He would pray for guidance on his way to Zhaharnisha.

* * *

"Stay out of their scanner range, Qwuushi."

"Looks like a Klingon convention on Zhaharnisha, Hobie." Neria-Tza was nervous in spite of his cool appearance on the bridge of the Dancer. Grabbing a Klingon Commune out from under the ridgeheads was nervous-making enough, now he wondered if they weren't betrayed.

"No, they'd send more than four warships and the Hierophant wouldn't be anywhere near here if they knew our errand and expected a fight," Hobie answered the XochiCheq's thought. "Those aren't Haat warships either." He turned to the communications station. "Mizat, who are those guys?"

"Based on their communications, I'd say they're Yhets or their agents." Mizat could break almost any encryption code and liked to flaunt this fact.

"Are they escorting the Hierophant?" That would be strange indeed, the Hierophant was usually escorted by the Haat clan.

"I don't think so. They're staying out of the Hierophant's flotilla's scanner range as well."

"That makes me very nervous," Hobie mumbled, thinking he'd like to warn the Commune but any subspace transmission in that direction would give them away and he only had this one ship: the Dancer - built for comfort, not for speed. He had not expected to meet anyone all the way out here at Zhaharnisha. 'What good is second sight if it cuts out just when you need it?' he thought ruefully. "Well, let's see what they do." He turned to Mizat. "Have the Maja, Yaja, Tien and the Zoltir head this way just in case we need them." He regretted that his new ship, the Maria Norris, was not spaceworthy yet. She was a beauty.

* * *

"The Hierophant has just arrived!" Tien flew into Master Ghet's studio and back into the Commune, which was trying to pull itself together for the Hierophantical visit.

Master Ghet looked at the half finished sculpture he had been wholly engaged in. "Oh, shit." He handed his tools to Hraja and went to change into a cassock. When it was warm enough he liked to work in a loin cloth, however, he could not greet the Hierophant in that. At least, not in front of the Commune.

He had just gotten the cassock on when the Hierophant's escort teleported into his studio and arrested him in the name of the most Holy Klingon Imperial Church.

An hour after that KmordriYhet's men arrested Master Khat and took Hraja, because he was Khat's son, and Amanda, because she was obviously Khat's lover (no woman fights like that for a mere acquaintance's son), as hostages to guarantee Master Khat's good behavior.

As soon as they were gone, Hobie and Neria-Tza found the Commune in an uproar. They heard the news and ordered everyone onto the Dancer with whatever they could pack in five minutes.

* * *

"You might have given me a chance to pack, Master," Master Ghet said coolly to the Hierophant.

"You don't need anything from there, Gozine," Kroldt said. "You can buy whatever you need in you new life."

"Which is what, Master?"

"I don't know. It does not concern me. I will miss you."

"Then don't send me away," Master Ghet looked at his lover with big eyes. The 'new life' Kroldt kept on about concerned the MageCheq very much. Kroldt was keeping his distance so Gozine could get nothing useful out of his telefield except flashes of sadness and loss.

Kroldt kept his distance for fear that if he let down his guard with Gozine he would lose his resolve to hand him over to Sarek. He had made his decision and contacted Sarek to meet him on Hzabeda. It was the most intelligent thing to do. Painful, but Kroldt knew he would get over it someday. Also, Gozine was only a mere slave in the Empire and it was foolish to become so attached to property.

"It is done, Master Ghet." The Hierophant rose to go. "For the greater glory of the most holy Klingon Church you will preach a sermon to the Hzabedaians before you leave your life in religion. The subject of this sermon is obedience. I will leave you to meditate on the subject." He swept out majestically, leaving Master Ghet to contemplate obedience in all its forms.

part 43

"What happened, Kalzat?" Hobie was asking the stunned Klingon.

"The Hierophant's escort grabbed Master Ghet and was gone."

"And nobody put up a fight?"

"They used a diversion, Hobie. We were waiting for the Hierophant to make his entrance into the hall of the Commune, like usual, and while we were watching that door, the escort teleported down, grabbed Master Ghet and was gone. We still wouldn't know if one of the apprentices hadn't seen it happen." Kalzat felt flooded with shame.

Hobie clapped him on the shoulder. "They knew the Commune would fight if they came straight at you. A brilliant operation if you think about it. You never had a chance. The Hierophant could have been a general." Hobie watched the young Klingon nod sadly. "And then what happened with MajaKhat, Hraja and Amanda?" Hobie knew from Master Ghet that Amanda was with the Commune and why. He was more worried about Amanda with the Klingons than he was about anything else because her mistreatment would be enough to start a full blown war.

"At least two hundred Klingons with blasters beamed into the middle of the Commune and secured it before we had a chance to turn around twice. Master Khat agreed to go with them, he only objected when they went for Hraja."

"Why did they take Amanda?"

"She tried to fight them off when they warriors started to drag Hraja away...."

"Is she stupid?"

"No, she's wonderful! We might have gotten a diversion out of her fight except Master Khat threw himself in front of her so the warrior that was going to blast her couldn't. These Klingons were a very disciplined group, knew exactly what they were about and how to get it with as little struggle as possible. I think they realized Amanda was important to Master Khat and Hraja and they took her as a hostage to hold over them."

Pausing briefly to admire Kalzat's brilliant analysis, Hobie looked away from the Klingon youngster to collect his thoughts and review what a terrible mess he was suddenly faced with. Neither he nor the Commune had any idea why Master Ghet, Master Khat and Hraja were arrested. The only one they did know the why of was Amanda and that was tremendously astute on the Klingons part. That was unnerving in itself as there is nothing more frightening than an astute Klingon.

Hobie had sent the Zoltir and the Tien to quietly follow the Hierophant's flotilla and the Maja and the Yaja after the Yhet's warships. He cursed himself that he had not arrived a week, a day, an hour sooner. He would now inform his brothers of these developments and hope they had some helpful ideas. He would take the commune to Ivishian, where Ling had made living arrangements until a more permanent home could be found. He would follow Maja's trail if he could and hope for the best. At this time, he did not know what else to do.

* * *

"How long has she been missing?" McCoy asked, seated in his quarters with Kirk, Spock and a good bottle of brandy.

"She should have reached Terra five weeks ago," Spock said. "My aunt did not contact anyone because she thought my mother might have wanted to be alone for a while. When she did not make contact after a reasonable amount of time, my aunt became concerned. Apparently, my mother never went to Terra. There is record of her booking a passage to Hozlostra and then she disappears."

"Why would she go there? There's not much out that way." Kirk had listened in silence, puzzling over Lady Amanda's behavior. It had been obvious on Rovirin that she was deeply wounded by Sarek's intention to divorce her (even Spock had reeled at that, quietly) but wandering into the wilds of non-aligned space was incredible.

"Unknown."

"Where's your father in all this?" McCoy asked.

"T'Pau tells me he is on a diplomatic mission."

"Did she say what?" Kirk asked, intrigued.

"She said it was a confidential diplomatic mission."

"Ah."

"So who's looking for her?" McCoy asked.

"A missing person report has been filed with the Federation Police, the family on Vulcan is making inquiries with various friends and has hired a private detective named Ashon to look into the matter."

"I've heard of an Ashon, I thought he was more bounty hunter than detective." Kirk said.

"He was recommended to T'Pau by Admiral Jessup. She tells me he is very talented at finding people and this is what we want. To find my mother and ascertain her condition."

"Has anyone asked the Talljets if they know where she is?" Kirk asked.

"My messages are not returned," Spock said flatly.

McCoy poured Kirk another brandy and Spock more mineral water. They sat drinking in silence for a while.

"Well," Kirk said at length. "I guess I'll go to bed."

"That's a good idea," McCoy commented blandly and added 'door lock' as he rose and stripped off his tunic. "You are staying, aren't you, Spock?"

"Yes." Spock moved into the doctor's sleeping alcove and began to disrobe. He was relieved this was being decided so neatly for him. He had hoped for this sort of distraction but had not had the energy to initiate it himself.

McCoy had sensed this. He was enjoying the telepathy between the three of them more and more. He bent to remove his boots and socks.

Kirk finished his brandy and began to pull his own clothing off. He was pleased to be included, or perhaps he'd simply misread McCoy's mood. It had seemed to him that McCoy wanted to be alone with Spock. And it had been quite a while since the three of them had been in sync enough to go to bed together. He slipped into bed and spooned up behind McCoy, who was kissing Spock, and ran his hand down the doctor's torso to caress his hardening cock. He kissed McCoy's neck and smiled at Spock across the doctor's warm body.

Spock allowed himself to relax for the first time in days and applied himself to kissing McCoy as Kirk brought the doctor to full hardness. He was thoroughly enjoying the sensation of the doctor's lips on his and the back of Kirk's hand on his cock as he stroked McCoy frantic.

McCoy broke Spock's kiss to pant for breath. He reached between them to still Kirk's hand and move it to the Vulcan's erection before the captain brought him off. He felt Kirk smile against his shoulder and press his erection against the doctor's ass. McCoy turned enough to pull Kirk into a kiss. He removed his arms from Spock's neck and rolled on his back, still kissing Kirk. McCoy pulled Kirk on top of him and then rolled back on his side so the captain was now between him and Spock.

Spock lowered his eyes so Kirk would not see the grateful gleam there for the doctor. The Vulcan had been craving Kirk for some time now and was pleased that the doctor had so neatly put the human in his path. He reached around Kirk to caress his chest and cock as he kissed the human's neck and shoulder.

Kirk could not at that moment conceive of a better arrangement than McCoy in his arms and Spock's arms around him. Out of the corner of his eye he saw Spock reaching for something above his head but was distracted by McCoy sliding his lips down to caress his hard nipples. And then further down to his hard cock.

McCoy swallowed Kirk to the root and held him there, stroking him with his tongue and lips.

Kirk started slightly and thrust forward at the first touch of Spock's slick fingers on his anus. He was quickly consumed by the twin sensation of his cock down McCoy's throat and Spock's fingers in his ass. He let it overwhelm him enough to surrender to what Spock wanted.

Which was merely to fuck him. Deciding Kirk was ready and willing, Spock lubed up and centered his cock. He pressed inside and stopped when Kirk tensed in discomfort. They did not do this very often so it required a few minutes of patience before the Vulcan could proceed.

Kirk winced at the penetration but could not fully concentrate on it because McCoy was noisily sucking on the head of his cock while stroking the shaft with his hand. It was very distracting and wonderful.

That was exactly why McCoy was doing it. He knew Kirk would love it. He did, however, notice Spock seemed to be waiting for something. McCoy realized Spock could not really get any leverage in this position so he gave Kirk's cock one last luscious lick and moved back into his arms. He kissed Kirk teasingly as Spock gently worked his cock all the way in and rolled Kirk on top of the doctor.

McCoy spread his and Kirk's legs under Spock and he hoped he would not be crushed too badly in all this. He would have liked to have slipped away for more brandy but he was deeply interested in the way Kirk was kissing him so he decided the brandy could wait. He was also enjoying the view of Spock above Kirk lost in complete pleasure. This was always a welcome sight for McCoy.

Once he'd overcome his usual hesitation about Spock penetrating him and surrendered enough to enjoy it, Kirk began to enjoy himself very much. He had his tongue down McCoy's throat and was enjoying the friction between them. He rubbed himself against McCoy's belly and felt the doctor rubbing against him. Their bellies grew slick with moisture as Spock's thrusts became longer and harder.

Realizing the humans weren't completely with him, Spock slowed his strokes a little to give them a chance to catch up. He kissed Kirk's neck and shoulder, admiring the taste and texture of the skin. He lengthened his strokes when he heard McCoy's amorous groan and Kirk's soft gasp of pleasure. Spock held back until he felt Kirk clenching around him. He hoped McCoy had come too but it was not uppermost in his mind at the moment.

Spock propped himself on his arms to catch his breath and let his cock soften enough to pull out. He rolled onto his back and looked over at his lovers trying to pull themselves together as well.

Kirk planted a gentle kiss on McCoy's lips and rolled onto his side, leaning against Spock. He was still breathing hard from his own orgasm and lay back to look at McCoy, also flushed and panting. He reached over and pinched the nearest nipple and watched with amusement the doctor's shudder of pleasure.

McCoy finished his pleasured shudder, stretched and reached under the pillow for a towel. He mopped himself and handed it to Kirk, who did likewise and handed it to Spock.

Spock rose and tossed the towel in the recycler before he stepped into the head.

Not ready to end their evening yet, Kirk and McCoy curled together and this was how Spock found them when he'd finished his shower. He gathered his clothes and began to dress.

"I must leave you," he said quietly. "I want to try to contact the Talljets again and reply to a message from one of my cousins."

"I understand," McCoy said softly, rising and pulling on his black robe. He walked up to Spock and leaned forward to kiss him, rightly judging that Spock would not want McCoy's scent all over his freshly showered body.

Spock leaned forward to return the kiss. He nodded at Kirk still in bed, murmured 'Jim,' and departed feeling considerably more relaxed than he had arrived.

McCoy watched the door slide closed, glanced at the brandy and then at Kirk.

"Come back to bed for a while."

* * *

"Admiral Jessup provided the USS Havel and Captain Warren Lee to take Sarek to Hzabeda and marry him to Maja in a Federation marriage...."

"Who cares what kind of marriage, Ling?" Hobie snapped at Ling on the viewscreen.

"I do, Hobie," Jir snapped at Hobie from the viewscreen. "It matters because a Vulcan marriage is too insular and would merely signal that the Vulcans approve. A Federation marriage is more political and signals that the Federation has 'taken' Master Ghet out of the Klingon Empire. The fact that the Hierophant is delivering Maja to his future spouse announces to everyone that some kind of deal has been struck and the marriage seals it. Otherwise the Hierophant would have simply sent Maja along to Sarek any old way. That the marriage will take place on a Star Fleet vessel says that StaFlet is getting something out of this as well or at least seriously approves of this marriage for some reason. Something is definitely up with all this, Hobie."

"I'm sure everyone in StaFlet is delighted to have Master Ghet out of action." Hobie commented sourly. "He was one of the most powerful anti-Federation voices in the Empire. But now, alas, that's all gone."

"And who fucking cares?" Ling snapped at them. "What are we going to do, Nolos?"

"I'm going to Hzabeda and see what happens," Hobie said consolingly, he hated to see Ling upset about anything. "I'll get Maja and take him to Ivishian to rejoin the commune."

"What if he wants to stay with Sarek?"

"Then he stays with Sarek and there's nothing I can do about it, Ling." Hobie was patient. "All I know is, his days in the Klingon Empire are over."

"We've learned something else from Hzabeda," Ling said, slightly mollified now that Hobie was going to solve all their problems, as usual. "There's a rumor that Master Ghet will preach in the Charina marketplace and apparently this is going to attract thousands from all over the quadrant."

"That might be useful."

* * *

"Dunno why she wanted to go there, nothing there but a bunch of Klingon monks," the freighter captain finished the third pint Ashon had bought him in the spacers' bar on Hozlostra. "She was a good maid, I'll say, very hardworking. I'd have her on any of my ships anytime." He accepted another. "Too bad they've gone, they were good prompt paying customers."

"Who?"

"The Klingon monks."

"Any idea where they've gone?"

"Dunno, but I heard that another freighter got paid triple to divert to Ivishian to deliver a load of Txavia wood to them," the captain said. "But you never heard that from me."

* * *

Captain Warren Lee was pleased with the mission Admiral Jessup had entrusted to him. He also liked performing marriages and looked forward to marrying Sarek to Master Ghet. Lee was not entirely sure who Master Ghet was but he knew of and respected Sarek of Vulcan.

Lee was not pleased to find the Hzabedian orbit crowded. He noted that there were all kinds of ships form all over the quadrant in orbit.

"Lieutenant Michels," Lee turned to his communications officer. "Contact our hosts and ask if the Hierophant has arrived. And see if you can find out why all these ships are here."

"Yes, sir."

Sarek stepped from the turbolift to the bridge. He stood next to Lee and looked at the busy viewscreen.

"Have they arrived, Captain?" he asked.

"I'm just inquiring, Ambassador."

"Sir," Michels said. "Premier Vrna's office tells me the Hierophant has not arrived but is expected in two Standard hours. The crowd is due to a rumor that Master Ghet will preach in the capital city's marketplace. There is some concern about crowd control but the Premier's assistant assures me they have the situation well under control."

"I certainly hope so, Lieutenant," Lee said, thinking the simple arrangements for the hand over Jessup had made with the Hzabedian High Council did not include a sermon to the masses.

"I have no doubt Premier Vrna has the situation under control," Sarek commented to Lee. "He is a most reliable being. If there were any danger, I am sure he would inform us."

"Have you worked with him before, Ambassador?"

"Yes, long ago. Hzabeda was the site of negotiations to end a stand off in the sector 471 neutral zone. The Klingons had taken a Federation outpost in disputed space hostage. As Hzabeda neutral and equidistant from Klingon and Federation space, it was deemed the best place to conduct the negotiation. It was chosen this time for the same reason."

"Were the negotiations successful?"

"Yes and no. The Klingons returned all the hostages but the outpost was abandoned. We reached an agreement with the Klingons that the Federation would not try to populate any planets in the neutral zone without petitioning their consent and they would do the same. They have only petitioned to create military outposts and we have declined each one. So they have declined our petitions as well. That is why there are uninhabited inhabitable planets in the sector 471 neutral zone."

"I see."

"However, the Hzabedians proved to be excellent facilitators in the crisis and I respect Premier Vrna very much. I will wait in my cabin for your summons to go to the planet, Captain." Sarek turned and left the bridge.

* * *

"Are you well?" Sarek had asked once the introduction formalities were ended.

"Yes, thank you." Maja looked past him at the multitude he was to address on the subject of obedience.

After the initial jolt of seeing Sarek, Maja had tried not to think too far ahead. He could feel Hobie here somewhere and he wanted to simply make his escape without stirring up too many memories or too much regret.

'So this is why I'm here,' he thought coolly. 'Tossed out of religion and into Sarek's lawful bed. And even if I don't stay with him, I've nowhere to go in the Klingon Empire any longer. It would probably be the sacred mission of every Klingon to take me back to him if I stray.'

He further reflected that this turn of events would have been welcome if he wasn't worried about the Commune, his children, relatives and friends. MajaKhat was right, without the Hierophant's protection they were easy pickings for the Klingon warrior class.

'Oh, lord, get me through today and I'll think about that tomorrow.' Maja surveyed the little party in the pavilion from which he was to speak: Premier RNA, the Mayor and Chief of Police of Charina, the Pastor of the Charina Congregation; the Hierophant and his escort of four heavily armed priests; Captain Roper and his officers, and Sarek.

Sarek. The bond was gone but the love was still strong. It required every ounce of discipline Maja possessed not to throw himself into the Vulcan's arms.

'Bad timing, my love, perhaps in the next life...'

"Oh, get on with it!" The Hierophant referred to Master Ghet's sermon. He was impatient with and confused by his ex-lover's lack of enthusiasm.

Master Ghet rose and glanced at the speaking platform at the front of the pavilion. He regarded the floor before Sarek as he silently went over the sermon he was about to give. He was quite famous for his sermons because on Zatichket the Hierophant had required him to preach to the Klingon Garrison as punishment for some transgression. The sermons were well attended and vids of them were made available to all Klingon military personnel. The topics of these sermons, thirty in all, were how to live in and with the contradictions and caprices of the unknowable mind of god -- a sort of metaphysical how-to. The Klingons loved it and Master Ghet became wildly popular with the pragmatic, how-to thinking military. Generals, Admirals and other powerful Klingons made pilgrimages to Zatichket for spiritual guidance. Slim but beautifully bound and illustrated volumes of Master Ghet's sermons (produced by the Commune as gifts for the Pilgrims) were passed from hand to hand like sacred relics.

This had not been the Hierophant's intention. His original intention had been to punish Master Ghet for inattention to his religion (translation: inattention to the Hierophant) in favor of his art. The Master was abruptly ordered to cease his preaching and ordered into the Commune incommunicado. This was fine with Master Ghet; all the sermonizing and counseling were cutting into his art-making time. He was hard at work on the Tossarian Gates. He had cut back to two hours of sleep a night to accommodate his too busy life and was glad to have the burden of public philosophical ruminations and spiritual Klingon herding removed from his plate. It had been fun but he was glad it was over.

His fame had only grown since his removal from public life five years ago. Hence the huge crowds that had flocked to hear him on Hzabeda when rumors of his sermon began to circulate.

The Hzabedian government had done their best to accommodate the crowd now in the Charina marketplace but it was still too large for the space it occupied. The Chief of Police was looking worried and was speaking quietly but intensely into his communicator as he stared at the multitude jostling to get closer to the object of their adoration.

Master Ghet raised his eyes to Sarek and flashed him a quick Maja Talljet smile before he resumed his bland, pious mask and stepped to the speaking platform. He did a quick visual scan for Hobie but did not find him. He could feel him nearby and assumed his elder brother had the situation under control. He cleared his throat, the crowd fell silent and Master Ghet began to speak in elegant Klingonese.

part 44

"My brothers and sisters on the path, I speak to you today on the subject of obedience and how we are to be truly obedient to the mind of god in all its manifestations.

"Firstly, obedience requires knowledge. How can we obey if we do not know what is required of us? Most of the time this is very simple - we are asked or told to do something and we do it; sometimes with our whole heart and mind and sometimes not, depending on the task.

"Usually, we need not weigh the right or wrong of our task. For example, sweeping the kitchen because someone has asked us to is very simple. The reasons for doing it are also simple - you do it because you either wish to please the asker or you fear the consequences of defying the asker.

"But let us look at a more complex scenario. No one tells you to sweep the floor but you see that it needs to be swept. Do you sweep it or leave it? If you sweep it or don't sweep it, what are you responding to? What are you obeying?

"Each of us lives and grows with our own idea or vision of perfection. With the grace of god, we each develop the inner discipline to follow our vision in all ways.

"Sweeping the floor because your vision of perfection prompts you to be tidy is simple. Not sweeping the floor because your vision of perfection prompts you to put another task ahead of it is also simple. We make these kinds of decisions and choices hundreds of times a day, so often and so much, we hardly notice them.

"But let us contemplate an even more complex, but no less worthy, scenario than housekeeping. Let us consider for a moment, decisions that require us to be obedient to the mind of god, perhaps even in opposition to beings in this plane of existence.

"How, you must wonder, can we know what is in the mind of god? We cannot know because we demand to know - the more you quest for it, the more elusive the goal. No, the way to know the mind of god is to surrender to the mind of god. This is more and less simple than you might think. Surrender to the mind of god requires that we stop looking in order to see, stop listening in order to hear, stop doing in order to be. If you are quiet, truly quiet, and look around you, the mind of god is in everything if you are willing to allow yourself to see it.

"Look back over your life. How have you arrived here? What steps did you take that now seem logical if not divinely inspired? From the vantage of the enlightened present, the past might seem an orderly progression - painful, pleasant or neutral - it has brought you here and you can clearly see path behind you.

"When you are surrendered to the mind of god and quiet enough to see, hear and be in the moment, you will know what the next action or series of actions for you should be as clearly as you can know the kitchen floor needs sweeping. Your path will be revealed to you if you are quiet enough to see it, the mind of god will reveal it to you. You will then be faced which a profound choice: obey or not obey.

"The Terrans have a fable about a man who would not obey the mind of god and was swallowed by a large fish until he agreed to obey. I do not believe the mind of god, as I understand it, is inclined to chase you with large fish that will hold you hostage until you agree to obey. I feel in my heart that the mind of god is vast enough to grant you free will to obey or not obey.

"And this is the very thing that makes us evolved spiritual beings - our ability to choose.

"I do not know what will happen if you do not obey the mind of god once you have ascertained the will of that mind. I suspect nothing will happen, you will not be punished or rewarded. Perhaps this is what your soul requires of you in this life and that is also in the mind of god. This is the passive aspect of the mind of god, eternal and inert and the basic foundation of our reality. An excellent and holy condition but not what we are talking about today.

"Therefore, should you wish to align your soul with the eternal and active mind of god then your choice is clear: obey and obey with all your heart and soul even if your mind and body have other ideas. Any action in this plane that aligns with the action of the mind of god, brings your soul closer to the mind of god. And that is the goal of all evolved spiritual beings - to be fully aligned with the mind of god, be it in this life or the next one."

Maja looked down and saw Hobie watching him in rapt attention and elder brotherly affection.

"And that is why if, thr ough the grace of god, we are allowed to know our path, we must find the obedience within ourselves to be surrendered enough to follow that path even if that path leads us away from the only being we have ever truly loved or cared about.

"May you dwell in the light and the mercy of the mind of god forever and ever. Amen."

At that moment the platform collapsed and Master Ghet was flung head first into the ecstatic crowd below.

* * *

"...dissolved into complete chaos," Captain Lee was telling Admiral Jessup's annoyed face on half of the Havel's viewscreen. Master Ghet's sermon and the ensuing riot occupied the other half. "After the stand collapsed there were several explosions in the marketplace. We lost Master Ghet in the riot that followed. My first priority was to get Ambassador Sarek to safety since there was nothing else I could do. The Klingons left abruptly as well. Shortly after we returned to the ship, several small fast private ships took off in different directions. We took off after one and the Klingons another, it turns out neither ship had Master Ghet aboard. The Hzabedian government tried to hold and search all ships in orbit but that caused such an uproar the order was cancelled. Not even the Klingons want to make this into an intergalactic incident. I got the feeling the Hierophant was, well, embarrassed about it."

Jessup nodded: "How is Ambassador Sarek?"

"He's well, sir. He asked not to be disturbed if possible so he can read the book the Hierophant gave him."

"The Hierophant Kroldt gave Sarek of Vulcan a book?"

"Yes, sir. On the platform, when Master Ghet began to speak, the Hierophant leaned over and said to the Ambassador, 'I assume you read Klingonese,' and handed him a book of Master Ghet's sermons to the Klingon Garrison on Zatichket."

* * *

"I don't think I care for your floor sweeping metaphor, Maja." Hobie was finishing a light supper with his brother, Neria-Tza, Qwuushi, Dolo-fra, and Oza-Tol on the merchant freighter borrowed from a friend of a friend of friend and therefore untraceable. This comment was an attempt to distract Maja from the distressing news he'd just heard about Master Khat, Hraja and Amanda.

"I wasn't preaching to you, Nolo," Maja snapped. He was still deeply shaken from being thrown into the adoring, soon to be violent, mob and the Commune news was injury onto insult. "Weren't any of you worried that crowd would tear me apart?"

"Nonsense, Maja-anas," Neria-Tza put in smoothly. "We were all around you. Worst case scenario, you might have lost a few fingers and some hair, that's all."

"We didn't have much time to be elegant, Maja," Oza-Tol told him. "Your Hierophant and Vulcan moved incredibly fast to get you handed over. We had to scuffle to get you back at all."

Maja smiled at the old man; at least Oza-Tol had the sense to be honest with him.

"Here, what's this fish story you told?" Dolo looked up from his plate for the first time that evening.

Maja told him the story James MacQuarrie had told him so many years ago on Magidrian.

"I think I disapprove of your mixing such pedestrian metaphors as floor sweeping and being swallowed by a fish with your higher concepts of surrender and stillness." Hobie was a sharp judge of a sermon, it was something he'd learned listening to Father Polmira in the monastery on Magidrian.

"Well," Maja finally gave in and defended himself. "I didn't know who would be listening. I gave a simplified sermon so everyone could feel included. I'm sorry you were offended. Perhaps you could simply enjoy feeling superior because you were offended. That's really the best I can do for you, Hobie."

Hobie rolled his eyes and gave up trying to have a serious conversation with his irritated brother.

"I liked your sermon, Maja-anas," Qwuushi put in. "I even understood it."

"I'm so glad, Qwuushi," Maja smiled at him. "What part did you like best?"

"The part about the fish. I think that Terran shoulda been flattered that god would even notice him enough to send a fish after him."

Hobie broke in before Maja exploded at the Djahgesenian pilot: "He had to go set some charges and didn't hear the end!"

Maja slumped into his chair. "Fine. Now tell me again what happened in the Commune after my arrest."

* * *

"He has his heart set on this, hasn't he?" the Hierophant Kroldt of Gozedria asked his brother Hierophant, Kvreda of Dkalji.

"Yes." Kvreda could never decide if he truly disapproved of Kroldt's relationship with Master Ghet or was simply jealous of it. Whichever, he was trying not to be too exulted over its termination. He was also trying to find a way to keep the Supreme Religious Leader from exiling Master Ghet and the Gozshedrefreingin Commune from the most holy Klingon Church. "Smashing sermon on Hzabeda," he commented affably to Kroldt. "Sublime and completely comprehensible. Good metaphors, just complex enough to keep the lay mind working. Perfect for the rabble he was addressing. I'm sure they all greatly benefited from his instruction. We shall miss that sort of thing from Master Ghet."

"Yes. I understand the Supreme Religious Leader enjoyed it very much. Has he opted to forgive, Kvreda?" the Hierophant Ksovian of Mvria asked. He, like his six brother Hierophants had been summoned to Klingon for this and none of them were happy about it. Master Ghet and his ex-commune were important to the Empire and the religious leadership would have preferred a policy of forgiveness toward them. Exile was so permanent. "Really excellent sermon by Master Ghet on Hzabeda, Brother," he murmured sympathetically to Kroldt. He admired Master Ghet and respected the Hierophant Kroldt so he was not enjoying either of their difficulties.

"No. As much as he enjoyed ('and even understood') Master Ghet's sermon, the Supreme Religious Leader still feels very strongly that exile is the only right action in this matter." Kvreda nodded majestically to Hierophants Kbxidi of Nvqi, Ksavlini of Jvoku, Khigito of Ezridia, and Kuvrinis of Bokdozia.

They nodded majestically back. None of them felt the ceremony of exile the Supreme Religious Leader had in mind was a good idea. All seven Hierophants would have preferred to quietly let the entire Master Ghet incident die down and eventually coax the Gozshedrefreingin Commune back into the fold when tempers were calmer. They could live without Master Ghet but the artisans of the Gozshedrefreingin Commune were a significant loss to the Church. The ceremony of exile would make their loss official and therefore permanent.

But exile was what the Yhets and Tzaj were demanding and the Supreme Religious Leader could not or would not go against his patrons, the Tzaj, at this time.

And the Yhets were up to no good. The Hierophants knew that they had kidnapped Master Khat and his son, Hraja, from the Commune moments after Master Ghet was arrested but they did not know why. The Hierophants could understand the Commune bolting to safety after losing two Masters so suddenly. They had tried to impress this on the Supreme Religious Leader but it fell on deaf ears. Master Ghet was understandably beyond redemption. The vid of his dance with Sarek on Imk was circulating in the Empire. Obviously he was as wanton as he was wayward.

All this and that the Emperor lay dying without an acceptable heir was on the Hierophantical minds as they swept majestically into the cathedral to hear Master GozineGhet and the entire Gozshedrefreingin Commune spiritually exiled from the most holy Klingon Church and declared enemies of the Klingon Empire with a price on their heads and signed death warrants for all.

The next day MajaKhat's father, the Emperor Kvortine, the last of a long series of compromises to come to the Imperial throne, died. Admiral KzaxreaYhet was declared regent for the dead Emperor's sickly three month old son, Kva.

Kva's concubine mother was buried alive with her sister concubines in accordance with the Imperial burial custom. The Empress Kvortininia was allowed to keep her life, although shut up in a convent for the rest of it.

* * *

"I have always had a high opinion of Master Ghet," KmordriYhet said to Hraja, seated across from him in Hraja's new lavish quarters. "He was unsurpassed as an artist and priest." He looked at Hraja's glass. "You're not drinking. Don't you care for Logerian wine?"

"Yes, thank you. It's quite good." Hraja took a microscopic sip and held onto the glass. He was trying to understand the situation before him.

Master Khat, Amanda and he had been hustled out of the Commune and onto a ship. They were not molested in any way, in fact, they had been treated with extreme care. They were transported to another ship, where they were met by General KmordriYhet.

KmordriYhet had greeted Master Khat as Prince Khat and had not called him anything else since their arrival. The general completely ignored Amanda. His eye had lingered on Hraja but the youth had discounted it at the time; blond Klingons were unusual. Hraja wore a veil in the Commune so as not to distract visiting Klingon clerics as well as warriors.

Hraja wore a veil in the Commune for the same reasons Tien and Polmira wore veils: he was beautiful. MajaKhat had inherited his mother's unusual blonde hair and dark eyes and his father's massive Klingon build. Hraja had inherited his father's coloring and shoulders and the rest was Maja's lithe but powerful physique. Hraja wore his blond curls long over his pointed ears and over his wide and subtly ridged forehead. He had Maja's large luminous brown eyes and high cheekbones. His face was rounder than Maja's, his nose broader and his lips fuller, more like his half Klingon father. He had the clear pale complexion of a Rom but it was lightly tinged with the honey color of Klingons. His skin was like silk over steel and, like his sculpture master, his right shoulder was noticeably larger than his left. Hraja also possessed a quiet and gentle demeanor and a low melodious voice that soothed his listeners when he chose to use it. He had also inherited Maja's intuitive abilities and these, in addition to the quiet powers of observation he'd developed on his own, were telling him that KmordriYhet was interested in more than the quadroon Mage's enjoyment of the wine; much more.

Like his mentor, Admiral KzaxreaYhet, KmordriYhet was a serious person. He had the benefit of being well born, well connected, well educated and intelligent. He had married early and produced enough sons to be able to ignore his wife entirely now. He had never had the time or patience for concubines or romantic intrigue of any sort. The subtleties of wooing a concubine out of a Commune or a lesser noble clan were lost on him. It all seemed like a waste of time and he was a busy man. He was also used to taking what he wanted.

He was therefore at a loss as to how to proceed with Hraja Gozshedrefreingin baMajaKhat. Kmordri's own reaction to the youth had deeply shocked him. He felt as if he'd suddenly discovered the sun after living underground all his life. He had therefore avoided the youth for several days until he simply could not stand another minute of his lack and had had him removed to the luxurious guest quarters the young man now occupied. And then, gazing into Hraja's innocent face, his nerve had failed him and he'd simply offered his guest a glass of wine.

They sat in silence. Hraja had been raised only to speak when spoken to by Klingon warriors and then only to say as little as possible. He hoped the Klingon before him would get bored with his lack of conversation and send him back to Amanda and Master Khat.

Kmordri was actually enjoying the silence. He very rarely found himself in a comfortable silence with anyone. If there was silence around him it was usually an enraged silence. He drank some wine and considered the beauty quietly watching him over his almost untouched glass.

"Do you know why you are here?" Kmordri asked after allowing the silence to continue a little longer.

Hraja shook his head; he'd been wondering why himself.

"You are the most beautiful creature I have ever seen."

Hraja modestly lowered his eyes. 'What would my Master do here?' He'd grown up watching Master Ghet twist Klingons around his little finger and now wished he'd paid more attention.

"You are too kind, sir." Hraja murmured mildly, thinking frantically that he could not really strategize until the Klingon made the next move.

The Klingon's next move was to rise and walk around the table to stand next to Hraja. He stroked the soft blond floss off Hraja's shoulder and ran his fingertips over the silky flesh of his neck. He tilted Hraja's chin up so he could look into the youth's large dark eyes.

"Tell me about your life in the Commune."

"It was very quiet."

"Did you have many lovers?"

"No. None."

"None?" the Klingon said, thinking: 'None? Is he joking?'

"None."

"I see." Kmordri removed his hand and walked back to his own chair, sat and poured himself more wine. This was a quandary for the warrior. He was unskilled as a seducer and even more so as a seducer of virgins. "So you've never ..."

Hraja looked at him inquisitively.

"...never had sex..."

Hraja shook his head.

"...with a man."

"Nor anything else."

"Why not?"

"I've had a very busy life, sir," Hraja murmured. "And sex has always seemed to me to be something that I needn't rush into." He calmly sipped his wine.

"How old are you?"

"Seventeen."

"Ah." Kmordri said, realizing he had sons older than Hraja. "I felt the same at your age. It was considered genteel to wait until one is fully formed as an adult before rushing into intimacy. How did you avoid lust in the Commune?"

"We are very busy in the Commune, sir."

"What about the Klingons?"

"We seldom had visitors."

Kmordri had heard that the Haats were very careful about whom they allowed near the Communes under their patronage. He had also heard that the members of the Gozshedrefreingin Commune were extremely ugly but he now knew that that was a fiction put abroad to discourage lascivious visitors.

"Are you afraid of me, Hraja?"

"A little."

"Why?"

"Because I do not know you."

"Is that all?"

"Did you order us brought out of the Commune?"

"Yes."

"Why?"

"For reasons that do not concern you, Hraja. For the moment let us concentrate on the reasons you are here right now."

Hraja looked across at the Klingon and was dismayed to see all hesitation and uncertainty gone from his demeanor. He found himself faced with a man who always got what he wanted, one way or the other.

"I see by the tattooes on your hands that you have mastered hand to hand combat in the Hvosic and Brezini styles," Kmordri continued. "A worthy accomplishment. I myself have mastered them as well. I am sure I could defeat you in both as I am taller and heavier than you, but it would necessitate hurting you badly and I do not wish to hurt you, at least no more than can be avoided."

Kmordri, with some satisfaction, watched Hraja's eyes widen with comprehension.

"It is also possible that you might damage me and I wish to avoid that at all costs. If you do not submit to me, I will have no alternative but to call in four guards to hold you down. And when I have finished, I will let them have you, as is the usual custom in these matters.

"I would prefer not to call in my guard as I will enjoy you more if we are alone and you are docile. And, I assure you, you will enjoy it more, much more, if I do not call in my guard." Kmordri sat back to let the facts of the situation sink in.

Hraja was not stupid and knew the Klingon was not bluffing. He was, however, inexperienced in handling lustful Klingons and knew he could not convince this one to let him go. He swallowed the contents of his wineglass and held it out to his captor to be refilled.

"Are you enjoying the wine more?"

"Oh, yes."

"Then bring it. You can finish it later."

part 45

"Exiled. Oh, excellent." Master Whilla paced the room in the Commune's temporary home on Ivishian. He stopped pacing and turned to face the Talljets, Tien and Kalzat. "What now?"

Ling cleared his throat. "We move the Commune to Dhrgestera where it will be safer."

Master Whilla nodded, what did he care where they were now that they were exiled from the only life they had ever known?

"It's starting to come undone, Whilla." Hobie said tiredly. "The Klingon and the Rom Empires are in disarray. They're preoccupied with the fights they've picked with each other lately. The Klingon Church is too busy exiling you all to make peace. The pirates have seen an opportunity to loot, pillage and otherwise enjoy themselves unimpeded and are making the most of it. Star Fleet seems paralyzed by internal dissension and the fucking Terrans won't lift a finger about anything that doesn't directly concern Terra..."

"By the time this does directly concern Terra, the humans will be lying in a pool of blood watching the Tziviian Pirates carrying off their children," Jir said bitterly. He was tired, they were all tired but Jir got snappy when he was tired. He was also sick of the Terran attitude that thought trouble in the hinterspace would never touch them. Fools. Ninnies. Idiots.

"Yes, well," Ling said smoothly. "We'll move you to Dhrgestera, it's on the border of Federation space and, if that gets too hot, we'll move into Federation space."

"How? We're Klingon subjects."

"Well, the upside of all the planets the Klingons lost to the Federation is that all you communists had citizenship on those planets and when they became Federationafied, you all were automatically granted Federation citizenship." Ling smiled. "It was quite elegant how the paperwork went through the Federation without a hitch. You, Master, have become a Federation citizen at least three times over."

"Zatichket, Bharselis and Olteiyva."

"Exactly."

"And what about Master Khat and Hraja and that model taken from us?" Whilla was very concerned about his colleague and the Journeyman.

"We will bring them back to the Commune," Maja stated flatly. "If that is god's will."

"I shall pray that it is so, GozineGhet." Whilla rose gracefully and swept from the room.

"What are we going to do?" Kalzat asked quietly.

"Go get them," Maja said.

"We don't know where they are."

"As soon as we know; we go. For now, Ling goes with the Commune and we stay put until we find them."

Neria-Tza stuck his head in the door. "They're here."

"Bring them in through the back." Maja rose. "Children, leave the room."

"But..." Tien began, wanting very much to stay.

"Leave. Now." Maja was firm. He watched Kalzat and Tien depart and turned to gesture Neria-Tza, Oza-Tol and Mizat to usher Mr. Yrit and Mr. Gvo into the room.

The Talljets lowered their eyes, except Maja who met their void gaze head on.

"I want you to find Master Khat and my son, Hraja, and then I want to know where they are," Maja said softly. "It will not be necessary for you to retrieve them. How much for this information?"

"Romulus," Gvo breathed.

"How do you know?"

"True rumorsssss," Yrit sighed.

/no charge/

"Why there?"

/why no charge/

"Klong-Rom Emperor." Gvo breathed.

/soon all will know/

Maja let his shoulders slump at this news.

"What?" Jir hissed furiously.

"Prince MajaTzaj. Maja the Rom," Maja said. "MajaKhat. Prince Khat. MajaKhat's father was Prince Kvortine, now the late Klong Emperor Kvortine. MajaKhat's mother was a Rom princess, younger daughter of the late Rom Emperor Rjegdigissi." He paced a few steps. "It's brilliant. Too bad we didn't think of it ourselves instead of those fucking Yhets."

The Talljets nodded. Maja turned back to the bounty hunters.

"Help us."

"Cosssst..." Gvo hissed.

"Cosssst...." Yrit hissed. "....cossssst you one quarter wholesale Vitisi tonne in crysssssstalsss and a new ssssship from Talljet Ltd."

"That's a lot," Maja said, thinking the exact opposite. "Quarter tonne and a ship is a lot for us." He continued to haggle for the sake of form.

"You want them," Yrit sighed.

"Of course but I'll go get them myself. We could hire an army for a wholesale quarter tonne. What do you say to wholesale ten percent?"

The bounty hunters simply gazed at him and then at each other.

"Twenty."

"Fifteen."

"Twenty."

"Hobie?" Maja asked the owner operator of Talljet Ltd.

"Fine with me," Hobie drawled.

"Done." Maja folded his hands serenely.

"When do we leave?" Gvo sighed.

Farro knocked and peeked in. Hobie put his body between the youngster and the hunters.

"WHAAAT," Hobie snarled. "You little savage. Do we have to lock the door for privacy?"

"Yes." Farro was suddenly not interested in the two tall pale and very scary looking beings he'd caught a glimpse of. "There's a humanoid here asking about Amanda."

Hobie glanced over his shoulder as Mr. Yrit and Mr. Gvo were ushered out the back door. "Ask him to step in here, tell him Master Whatnot wants a word," Hobie said, closing the door and turning back to his brothers and crew. "Mr. Death and Mr. Suffering must be having a sale."

"They don't want a united Klong-Rom empire any more than we do," Maja said dryly.

"I'm surprised you asked them along, Maja," Hobie commented leadingly.

"It saves bringing Tien to help track Hraja, and Kalzat because he won't let Tien go without him. And Farro, for that matter, because he wouldn't be left behind. Cuts out hours of arguing with them." Maja knew his children better than he let on. "Yrit and Gvo can track Hraja and MajaKhat by their emanations better and faster than we can. If they are on Romulus we will need speed as well as stealth."

"And who better than Mr. Death and Mr. Suffering for that." Hobie was impressed. "Smart thinking, Noli."

"And great haggling, Maja," Jir commented sarcastically.

"I was stunned by the deal they offered."

"Great recovery, NoloMaja," Ling said affectionately. "Can't I come with you to fetch MajaKhat and Hraja and Lady Amanda?"

"No." Hobie said flatly. "You've got to look after everybody else. I've, we've, no one else we can trust. Understand me?"

"Yes, understand you." Ling was disappointed but understood - it was the price of being the youngest and most reliable of them. "I'll move everybody to my house on Dhrgestera when you've gone. Come find us there, okay? May as well get some use out of those StaFlet patrols on the edge of Federation space."

Hobie motioned Neria-Tza to answer Farro's knock and stepped out of sight. A tall, lean, black haired half Drossian, half Bvristian male stepped into the room.

"ASHON! What the hell are you doing here?" Hobie cried, stepping forward. He was delighted to see his old acquaintance. "I heard your number came up in the Scolvati system."

"Obviously not, Hobie," Ashon drawled in Patois. "I'm looking for this Terrana named Amanda Sarek. Seen her?"

"Not lately," Hobie said through clenched teeth. He hated Amanda even more than Maja did. "But perhaps I will soon." He smiled charmingly at the best soldier of fortune he knew, and Hobie knew a lot of them. (Bounty hunting was a sideline for Ashon. Hobie would never hire him for that as long as Yrit and Gvo were in bodies.) "How'd you find us?" Hobie drawled pleasantly, waving Ashon to a chair. Everybody sat down to listen to Hobie chat with the DrossiCheq.

"Wasn't too hard. Picked up her trail on Hozlostra. Heard she was headed to Zhaharnisha. This Commune was the only thing going there and I heard you'd moved on. Good thing you leave a forwarding address for your supplies or I might not have got here 'til tonight."

"You make it all sound so simple."

"It's easy to find people who aren't hiding, Hobie."

"Who's your client?" Hobie poured the DrossiCheq some fruit juice.

"Some Vulcans."

"What are they paying you?"

"A lot. What of it?"

"Nothing." Hobie poured Ling a glass of juice. "Wanna have some fun, Ashon?" he asked blandly.

"Fun, Hobie? I'm working."

"Fun and profit. You see, I'm heading for where your missing lady be and I could use some help. It will be fun for you and I'll match whatever the Vulcans pay you." Hobie sat back to watch the DrossiCheq absorb this offer.

Ashon stared hard at Hobie for a moment before he turned his attention to Maja.

"You're Master Ghet, aren't you?"

"No longer. I'm back to plain old Maja Talljet."

"Are you going where the lady is?" Ashon thought Hobie's pirate grammar was charming but never used it himself.

"Yes."

"Why? Seems to me you'd not want her found."

It was Maja's turn to ask why.

"There's a vid circulating of you and her man dancing a Shakaar. Looks like you two were pretty cozy."

"This is not about that," Maja stated calmly and turned to Hobie. "Do you really need this creature along, Nolo?"

"Yes. If he'll come," Hobie said quietly.

"Come where?" Ashon finally asked.

"Romulus." Hobie leaned forward.

"Are you insane, Hobie?"

"Nope. That's where your Terrana be. You want her, come with us, give us a hand, and I'll pay you what I promised." Hobie sat back.

Ashon turned back to Maja: "Why are you going?"

Maja sighed. "My son and his father are with her. I'm going to get them back."

"What if they want to stay with her?"

"They certainly may, however, I'm sure they do not want to stay where they are now."

"On Romulus."

"Aye, on Romulus."

"Why are they there?" Ashon asked.

"Do you always ask this many questions?" Jir snapped.

"When I'm probably heading into death, yes, Fara, I do."

Jir threw up his hands and rolled his lovely eyes.

"It's a long story, the why of it, but if you want in, then come along. I don't care if you do or you don't," Maja said, rising. "We leave here in two Standard hours."

* * *

Princess Malira paced the balcony of her apartments in the Palace, elated. She was so close to realizing her revenge that all the years of exile and waiting were now worth it. She could barely contain her joy, it threatened to spill over and muss her stately demeanor.

She was even more delighted to see that Hraja, whom she hadn't seen since he was a baby, had KmordriYhet wrapped around his little finger. Malira had been wondering how she was going to control that Klingon and here was the solution, dropped into her lap.

"Bravo, Hraja!" Malira had cried in Master Khat's apartments.

"Bravo, what?" Hraja asked the 'grandmother' he did not remember. He had taken his father's word that Malira was the lady in question.

"How'd you seduce that fool Kmordri?"

Hraja looked scandalized.

Amanda tried to come to his rescue: "Your highness, it's not..."

"Shut up, girl, no one is talking to the 'help' today." Malira snarled.

Wisely, Amanda backed off. She felt great sympathy for Hraja, who was being worshipped against his will. The youngster was confused and trying not to enjoy the very enjoyable things that were happening to him every night, without his consent or, really, participation. She knew; he'd broken down in front of her after the second night with Kmordri.

It was that night, the second one, that had been the most ... confusing for Hraja.

The first night Kmordri had confined his lovemaking to ascertaining the taste and texture of every millimeter of Hraja's body. Kmordri had demanded complete passivity from the MageQuad because the Klingon only knew how to be the aggressor and was not ready to have his new lover touch him. This was normal for him, the difference was that Hraja was the first male he'd bedded.

Hraja could say the same (this was the first anything he'd been bedded by) and in his inexperience he was glad he didn't have to do anything. He could also tell himself that as long as he did not participate, it wasn't really happening or at least he could forget about it sooner rather than later. Also, there was absolutely nothing he could do about his erection - pure physical response - and since neither of them mentioned it (except for Kmordri's grunt of amused satisfaction as he ran his tongue the length and breadth of it), Hraja decided that he, Hraja, was not responsible for it either.

The youngster jumped as Kmordri's tongue brushed his anus. He had hoped the Klingon had not noticed but it was obvious that this was not the case when the hard wet tip returned and began to probe insistently at the tight ring. Hraja might have found a way to ignore this except for the Klingon idly stroking Hraja's cock as he continued his oral explorations of his ass. The MageQuad swallowed hard and began to conjugate Standard verbs to distract himself. This was not successful when Kmordri switched his oral ministrations to the youngster's cock.

The Klingon sucked in as much of Hraja's cock as he could without gagging. He fondled the youngster's silky balls and stroked his fingertips over the tight virginal ring. He sighed as he slipped a fingertip inside the youth. He grunted with satisfaction as he felt Hraja jump and clench at this first penetration.

"...Klingon," Hraja whispered, raising his head from the pillow.

Kmordri's answer was to let his sharp teeth gently close on sensitive flesh and release. He heard the quadroon gasp with discomfort and drop his head back on the pillow, returning to complete submissiveness.

Kmordri pressed his finger all the way in until he found the hard place behind Hraja's lovely penis. He began to stroke it and was gratified to hear his beauty panting with pleasure. The Klingon could also taste the lad's incredible sweetness on his tongue. Knowing Hraja could not last very long like this, he reached down to stroke his own cock so they could climax together. It was not a long wait. Kmordri sucked the last drops from Hraja's cock, withdrew his finger and rolled away from the puddle at his waist. He propped himself up for a better view of the flushed and panting youth. Having never sucked a cock before in his life, Kmordri was pleased that he could provoke such pleasure from this lovely creature. He reached out and ran his index finger along the bottom of Hraja's limp cock and was delighted to see it jump for him. He lowered his lips to the task again. And again and again until Hraja was dry and Kmordri had sore but happy jaws. Elated, the Klingon slipped away before dawn, leaving Hraja deep asleep.

The next morning Kmordri had a long, long conversation with his valet.

Hraja would have liked to have talked to someone about his evening with the Klingon general but neither Master Ghet nor Tien were here and he didn't feel up to discussing it with his father or Amanda.

That evening, Kmordri's valet came to Hraja's cabin and introduced himself. He arranged several boxes and bottles on the bedside table and turned to the MageQuad.

"Come," he said, "into the bath and we'll get you cleaned, inside and out."

"Whaddya mean, Klingon?"

"An enema," the Klingon said flatly.

"WHAT."

"You heard me," the valet snapped. "You need one if he's to penetrate you tonight."

"I think I'll have neither," Hraja asserted with more courage than he felt.

"Then here are your options: I call the guards and they hold you down until I'm finished with you and later he calls the guards and they hold you down until he's finished with you." The valet looked him right in the eye. "Or, you can cooperate and you don't get hurt. Much."

"This is more a trend, not a theme, with you Klingons, isn't it?" Hraja snarled back in his best Farro imitation. He didn't move until the valet turned toward the door with great determination. "Oh, all right, let's go."

"You can't appreciate how fortunate you are," the valet commented a short while later as he scrubbed Hraja's shoulders: "Kmordri is a very powerful and high born Klingon and you can have a long and beautiful future with him if you play your cards right." ('What cards?" Hraja wondered.)

He hauled up one of Hraja's feet and began to pumice the soles: "All these years and I never thought he'd take an interest in a youth and here you are. I can understand it. You aren't repulsive and you come from half of an excellent family." (Hraja frowned, wondering which parent was being insulted.)

The valet went to work on the other foot: "The General is very concerned about tonight. We had quite a long conversation about it. In fact, he has asked me to answer any questions you might have. Have you any?"

('Only how can I get out of this mess and I bet you don't have the answer to that, ridgehead,' Hraja thought sourly.)

Working shampoo into Hraja's honey blond locks, the valet continued: "Just as well, you don't want to be nervous because you know too much. But not to worry, he knows exactly what to do, we talked all about it this morning. Yes, quite a long conversation about how best to take you tonight. Rest assured, he is very concerned with your welfare, young man. More research has gone into deflowering you that went into invading Oblatava." ('....!')

"What should I .... should I...." Hraja trailed off, uncertain even of what one called the act. "... when he puts his, ahm, his cock..."

"First, make sure your legs are spread wide, then relax, then - if you can still feel your muscles - push out against him and don't make any sudden moves."

Hraja wished he shared the valet's confidence. "What do you mean 'if I can still feel my muscles'?"

"Not to worry, child, this is a good thing." The valet wrapped a towel around his wet hair and urged him to standing. "Now, come over here and lay on your belly."

"Why?"

"Guess." The valet waved a length of tubing at him suggestively.

"I've never done this before either," Hraja growled as he lay down.

"Ah, the rigors of a life in religion." The valet smeared a liberal amount of lube on the nozzle. "I suppose you will miss the simplicity of your former life for a while," he slowly inserted the appliance into Hraja, who grimaced as his cock hardened a little at the invasion, "but I think you will find," the valet began to send a low jet of warm soapy water into the prone youth, "that if you pay attention to your new surroundings," bored, he began to gently work the nozzle in and out of Hraja's virgin orifice, "that you may find it as interesting as the Commune. Step over here and sit, yes, that's right." The valet noted but said nothing about Hraja's half mast cock. "And then back on the table, yes, like that."

This process was repeated four times. The last time for the pure amusement of the valet.

He ushered Hraja under a hot shower and afterwards rubbed a light lotion into the quadroon's creamy skin. "He'll like this," he assured Hraja, thinking, 'I like this; maybe when Kmordri gets bored with him...' He combed out Hraja's hair into ringlets, something Hraja hated, and arranged it over his shoulders. "Now, listen carefully to me: do not resist, whatever happens, do not resist him. There will be a moment when he won't care who you are and if you try to stop him he will hurt you so he can finish. If you try to resist early he will get impatient and call the guards and you know what that means. If you resist when he has finished and is trying to come down, he might become enraged and strangle you, as he has done to a woman or two. Your best strategy is to hold onto and bite down on a pillow, that way you have some comfort if you need it. And be silent at all times unless he speaks to you. In this case, however, I think you will be all right but don't forget; I have warned you." He led Hraja to the bed and pulled back the sheets for the naked youth to slip between them. He dimmed but did not turn off the lights. The valet paused to look down at his and god's handiwork and compliment them both on the pretty sight Hraja made waiting in bed for his new 'protector'.

Hraja turned to look at the assortment of things on the bedside table: thin latex gloves and sheaths, three tubes: lubricant, anesthetic and muscle relaxant. He looked a question at the valet, who was still admiring him.

"The muscle relaxant is so you'll stretch, the anesthetic is so you won't feel any pain and the lube is so he'll slide nice and easy." The valet glanced at the chrono and the door. "Good luck," he whispered as he swiftly departed.

'I'll need it,' Hraja thought glumly as he tried not to get too comfortable in the big bed. Contrary to his best intentions he dozed and did not wake until KmordriYhet sat next to him.

part 46

"No, no, don't move, beautiful one," the general murmured, laying a commanding hand on Hraja's silky shoulder. "Let me look at you." He let his fingers glide down Hraja's chest to his nipple, which hardened obligingly. "We should savor this moment." Which he did for about one nanosecond before ripping off his robe and climbing on top of Hraja.

Kmordri ran his tongue over Hraja's firmly clenched teeth. "My guard is right outside, Hraja," he warned, running his fingers through the quadroon's blond hair.

Hraja relented and let the Klingon tongue explore his mouth. 'Maybe this is all he wants to do tonight,' he thought hopefully.

Kmordri slid his hand down Hraja's torso to caress the youth's hardening cock.

'Stay down, damn you,' Hraja despaired at his penis. 'Maybe this is all he wants to do tonight,' he thought optimistically.

The general ran his lips over Hraja's subtly ridged brow, pointed ears, long neck, over-large right shoulder, and down to his erect amber nipples, which he sucked to an even harder condition. He dragged his tongue along the youth's hard belly and down into his downy golden pubic thatch. Recalling the advice of his valet, he relaxed the back of his throat and exhaled as he devoured the honey colored shaft to the root.

Hraja rolled his head on the pillow and tried to think bland thoughts, conjugate verbs, something, anything not to be driven wild by the Klingon on his cock. 'Perhaps,' pant, heave, 'perhaps, maybe this is all he wants to do tonight,' he thought, desperately, stifling an abandoned moan.

Quite pleased with the way events were progressing, Kmordri decided they were both ready to move to the next level. He pulled his mouth off Hraja and rolled him over.

Hraja, recalling the valet's advice, got his arms around a pillow and buried his blushing face in it. He could feel Kmordri's breath on his back as slick gloved fingers probed him. They rubbed against the hard place behind his penis that made him feel faint, tingly and desperate. He felt warmth radiating into his muscles as the fingers, first one, then two, stretched him as they slid all the way in. The fingers withdrew and returned with a colder lotion. The last thing Hraja felt slipping past his tight ring were three fingers and then he could feel nothing but the weight of the Klingon on his back and between his legs.

Kmordri sat back on his heels and peeled off his glove. He lubed his cock before slipping on a sheath. Next time or perhaps the time after that, when his lover no longer needed his muscles topically anesthetized, he would know how this felt, flesh in flesh. But for now, this was fine as he truly did not want to hurt the youth. Kmordri had actually given some thought to how this would feel for Hraja and concluded that, inconvenient though it was, this was truly the best way to proceed. He centered his cock and pushed beyond the tight ring. He stopped when he heard Hraja's sharp intake of breath.

"Are you all right? Does this hurt?" Kmordri asked quickly, holding very still.

"Yes."

"Yes, what?"

"Yes, it hurts," Hraja lied. He was not in pain but what he could feel of the sensation of the Klingon's cock entering him was so bizarre, so personally invasive, it was alarming and Hraja, for all the valet's careful preparation, was shocked to the core of his being.

Recalling his research, Kmordri waited for the youth's muscles to give up their reflexive fight and then pushed in a little more. "Nonsense, I'm sure you're not feeling any pain."

"But..."

"Shhhh," Kmordri gently pushed Hraja's face into the pillow as a warning that he was not going to tolerate any mischief. He continued to work his cock in a little at a time. He knew he was not hurting the youth but he wished also not to frighten him.

Hraja buried his face in the pillow and fought down his panic. This was the first time he could remember losing control of his body to another person like this. His submission was complete; he was helpless. He could stop the Klingon taking him with neither words nor actions. This was bad enough: what was the sense of being beaten to pulp or killed this evening? Hraja knew the best strategy was submission but it was so difficult to stay still when his whole mind and body wanted to leap up and run from the room to find a dark place to hide. He squeezed his eyes closed tight as he felt Kmordri's full length settle on his back and legs. He was further horrified when the Klingon reached underneath him and began to stroke his still hard cock.

"At least your body is enjoying this, Hraja," Kmordri murmured in his ear as he matched the strokes of his hand to his strokes in and out of Hraja's ass.

Deciding he didn't want Hraja to be too sore tomorrow, Kmordri lengthened his strokes enough to bring them both off quickly. He rested a moment a top the sobbing youngster before he rolled off. He lay on his back catching his breath and listening to the sobs subside. He was tired and too mellow to care what the quadroon was crying about. Kmordri knew Hraja was not physically hurt so he couldn't be crying from pain. This crying didn't sound like that anyway, this crying reminded him of crying at funerals. And, frankly, at the moment it did not interest him. He rose, stripped off the sheath and tossed it aside. The Klingon put on his robe and slippers and left without a word. He went back to his own bed and, after a brief chat with his valet, slept better than he had slept in years.

Hraja was so relieved Kmordri was gone he nearly began to cry again. He sat up, fought down his panic and pulled himself together. 'What for?' he thought in despair and flopped back onto the pillows. 'There's no one to talk to about this, no one at all.' He buried his face in the pillow again as the door slid open.

"Of course you can ask General Kmordri, but I assure you he asked me to look in on Hraja and that is what I am doing," Amanda said, entering.

Hraja sat bolt upright: "Yes, he did! I asked him to, so get out, Klingon."

The guard looked at the two unarmed and harmless beings before him, and decided he would ask the general and departed to do so.

Hraja collapsed sobbing into Amanda's arms and was eventually comforted.

"How'd you know to come?"

"I heard him pass my door and I knew he'd come from here."

Hraja buried his face in Amanda's neck. Kmordri's step was embedded in both their brains.

"It's all over now," she soothed in Standard. "Did he hurt you?"

"No, but..." Hraja wasn't sure what words he wanted. "He...he made me .... he made me helpless, powerless..." He trailed off as the door opened again.

Kmordri's valet came into the room and crossed to the bed. He waved the guard away and looked the two prisoners over with a critical eye.

"You were not summoned but perhaps you should stay," he said sternly to Amanda in Romulan, hoping she could understand. He turned to Hraja: "I understand you did very well tonight, the General is quite pleased."

Hraja started to groan but cut it short when he felt Amanda's hand tighten on his arm warningly.

"Yes, quite well," the valet continued. "It is necessary, however, that I examine you..."

"Don't touch me!" Hraja recoiled.

"....if you are bleeding you need attention."

"DON'T..."

"Hraja," Amanda said gently in Vulcan, hoping the valet would take it for an obscure Rom dialect (which was exactly what it was). "Please, you might be hurt and .... and you really don't have any choice, do you?"

The valet knew good sense when he heard it, even in a dreadful dialect, and hoped Hraja did, too. It would be unpleasant to have to call in the guards after such a splendid (as he had heard from the general) night.

"Oh, all right," Hraja exhaled and hesitated. He and the valet looked at Amanda.

"I'll be over here when you're finished," she said, moving across the room to look at the tapestry covered wall. She uncorked a bottle of Klingon brandy and poured a largish snifter.

The valet pulled a robe from the closet and helped Hraja into it and then into the bathroom. He found no significant damage but would try to convince the general to let the youth recover for another day before making his second penetration. After all, there was no rush, was there? He cleaned Hraja up and rubbed some healing ointment into the tiny tears and helped him back to bed.

"Here drink this." Amanda handed Hraja the brandy and got a nod of approval from the valet. "Would you take the message to Prince Khat that I will finish the night here?"

"I guess there's no harm," the valet said, leaving.

Amanda watched the door close and slipped into bed beside Hraja and put her arms around him. She had no idea what to say to him or even if he wanted to talk but she could feel his relief and gratitude as he curled up next to her and pulled the covers over his head. She held him all night and felt almost as helpless and useless as she had when Sarek was kidnapped.

'At least I'm here with them,' she thought calmly. 'Maybe this time I can... do something, anything to help instead of wringing my hands from a distance.'

So, she was not too distressed by Malira's 'Shut up, girl, no one is talking to the 'help' today.' At least she was around to be told to shut up.

"Please don't tell Amanda to shut up, 'grandmother' and she is not 'help'," Hraja said mildly to the ferocious Rom princess. "She is our friend."

"Yes. Please, Mother," MajaKhat murmured. After all these years he still hesitated to contradict her.

Malira rolled her snapping black eyes and refocused them on Hraja: "I want to know, Hraja. We're going to need that Klingon and if you have some special influence..."

"I have NO influence, Rom." He cut her off and crossed the room to get away from her.

Malira was raised to consider retreat to be merely fighting in another direction. She turned to regard her son, who headed for the other side of the room. She then turned to find Amanda gazing at her. "What are you looking at, girl?" she snarled at her.

"Your jewelry."

"My jewelry?" Malira was taken aback. She wore lots of jewelry but never thought about it much.

"Yes. It's quite nice."

"Thank you. I made it."

"Really?" Amanda took a tentative step forward to get a closer look and stopped uncertainly.

"Yes, yes. Come over here and I'll show you, girl." Malira waved Amanda to a seat at the table and dumped all her jewelry on it. She explained what had inspired her and how she had designed each piece, the techniques she used to cast, stamp or sculpt the metal, bone, stone or wood, her preference for opaque jewels to brilliants, for white metals over colored ones. She was talking so intensely about her art that she did not notice her son and grandson had joined them until MajaKhat spoke.

"I remember when you made this, Mother," he said picking up a heavy necklace of intricately filigreed platinum encrusted with stones. "I was eight and you let me choose the order of the stones."

"Do you remember how you did it?" Malira asked, amused.

"Of course. I rolled them in my hands and poured them in a line and told you to start from the eastern end." Master Khat smiled at his mother. "And you did."

"It was good advice as you can see, my son." Malira patted his hand. She looked at Amanda and back at MajaKhat: "Why is this girl here? She is ... too fragile for this part of the galaxy."

MajaKhat told her the story of their abduction and how Amanda had stayed by him and Hraja to offer whatever aid and comfort she could, regardless of the risk to herself.

"So she is the most dangerous combination in a woman," Malira said, rising. "Loving, brave and fearless. Admirable, but those kind of women don't last long out here. However, they do make wonderful martyrs and we'd have almost no mythology without them." She lifted the necklace MajaKhat still held in his hands and draped it around Amanda's neck. "You might as well have something pretty to wear as long as you last." Malira paused as if forming the word in her mind before her mouth. "Amanda."

"Why are we here, Mother?" MajaKhat asked after a short silence.

"You haven't guessed?" Malira asked. "You're about to become the Emperor of the combined Klingon-Romulan Empire."

"You can't be serious, Mama."

"I'm as serious as a phaser barrage against an unfortified position." Malira looked hard at Hraja. "This wondrous consolidation of Empires was engineered by the Klingon your Hraja refuses to discuss with me."

"That ... thing arranged this all by himself?" MajaKhat was horrified that their health and welfare were in the hands of that ... thing, KmordriYhet.

"Weeeeellll, he had some help. My father and ex-husband did us all a big favor by dying so conveniently close together and without obvious heirs. Except you, that is. KmordriYhet's uncle is the Klingon Imperial Regent until tomorrow and then he becomes the Supreme Imperial Administrator of Klingon and Klingonese space. My cousin, Prince Adrajesi, will become the Supreme Imperial Administrator of Romulus and Romulan space. This is just a front, though, KmordriYhet will run this end of the empire for his uncle. With my help, of course." She paused to beam at Hraja. "That's why I'm so pleased you're leading him around by the nose, my grandson."

Hraja simply stared at her.

"And what am I supposed to do in all this, Mother?" MajaKhat asked.

"Hmmm?" Malira broke off her contemplation of Hraja. "Oh. Stand up straight, look good at Imperial functions, sire an heir off one of these females I picked out for you and generally do whatever else you're told to do."

"I see," MajaKhat sighed, realizing there was no point trying to reason with his mother when she was in this galaxy conquering mood. "You know, Mother, we're all rather fatigued from our journey. Do you suppose we could meet again after a few hours?"

"Of course, my children." Malira rose and swept from the room.

MajaKhat, soon to be Maja I of the Klong-Rom Empire, turned to his son and his mistress and said two words: "We're fucked."

* * *

"You must be joking," the Hierophant Kroldt said to General KzijietHaat. "He's a priest and a painter and now he's an Emperor..." He trailed off, staring at the vid screen before him.

"OUR Emperor, Kroldt. A creature of the Yhets' now."

They watched the vid of the Coronation in silence. Neither wondered who the dark haired woman standing behind Princess Malira was.

* * *

"Oh my god. Please tell me this isn't true, Ripley," was all Admiral Jessup could manage to his aide as they watched Maja I being crowned emperor by the Most Holy Meta-Pashtun of the Most Holy Romulan Church.

* * *

"STOP IMAGE!" Spock was on his feet and, for him, ashen.

"Sector image. Close on sector 8." Kirk's voice was flat with shock. McCoy next to him was speechless. "Magnify. Close on sector 8.1. Magnify. Close on sector 8.6.2. Magnify. Stop."

"What in god's name is she doing on Romulus?" McCoy whispered into the stunned silence of the bridge.

* * *

"I believe we have discovered the Lady Amanda's whereabouts," T'Pau said to Sarek the Vulcan.

"Indeed."

* * *

"She makes a great brunette. Wonder why she's never tried it before," was all Hobie had to say about Amanda's appearance at Maja I's coronation. He, Jir and Maja were watching it in one of the three little ships moving very quietly through Romulan space.

"Did you see Hraja? Help me look for Hraja, Nolo. Scan back to the beginning, wide angle, slow." Jir was upset and doing a bad job of hiding it. How they were going to 'rescue' the Klong-Rom Emperor, Maja I, his son and their 'friend', the Vulcan lawyer had not a clue.

"Malira," Maja hissed. "What's that crazy witch up to?"

* * *

"What did Laninin say?" Ling asked Qhoshi, his lead empath whore, confidante and Managing Director of Talljet Inc.

"He liked the music," Qhoshi answered dryly, referring to Maja I's coronation vid, which she'd played for Laninin, the son Yrit and Gvo had sold to the Talljets five years ago.

"You'd think all that prophetic Magidrian, Cmovi and Phol blood could give us a forecast on the future instead of a music review." Ling was testy because here, on Dhrgestera, he was so far away from the action and he was worried. Seeing Amanda but not Hraja on the vid had shaken him badly. He was very concerned for all of them and simply wanted everyone home and dry.

"Wait 'til he hits puberty, Ling," Qhoshi murmured in her low, warm voice that had coaxed the secrets out of a thousand beings. "If we live."

"Don't be negative, Qhos. Things are bad, but not that bad." Ling wondered if he was convincing anyone, least of all Qhoshi. Since he had settled the Commune on Dhrgestera, they had been joined by Jir's theater company, which had recently been kicked out the Orissian Empire by the Sultan. He was tired of Jir roaming the galaxy, and of feeding his actors in his absence. Smig, Jir's secretary, and Phr-tolnet, Jir's co-star, had sent a frantic message to Qhoshi when things became really difficult on Orissa. And that fine lady had simply sent a ship to bring them to Dhrgestera, found them a space to rehearse in, put them on a strict allowance and left them to their own devices.

Qhoshi was a busy woman. She was the only other non-Talljet, aside from Stez, Ling's lover since W. Vul. Prep., who had Ling's complete trust. She had earned it and treasured it. They had met in a temple on Yzreina where Qhoshi was about to take her final vows to become an oracle priestess. The Yzreinains, especially the women, are a highly empathic species. Jir had recently finished the business plan for his joyhouse and required four to six Yzerianians or Ocacatarians for it to succeed. He wound up with three Yzerianian females, two Ocacatarians males and two Deltan orphans, a brother and sister, that looked after the housekeeping and garden. (These last two he'd won in a card game on Brophria and they were useless except for being good natured, tidy and easy on the eyes. Ling made sure they had good educations and offered to set them up somewhere but they preferred to remain with the 'house'.)

Qhoshi had been born into the priestesshood and never thought she'd do anything but spend her life contemplating the mysteries of the Yzerianian Oracle. Ling had simply mentioned that it was a big galaxy and it had plenty of other mysteries to contemplate and that was all it took, that and a long look into Ling's gentle eyes - she and two sister novices packed their bags and left with him. She had traveled quite a bit, with and without Ling, ran the joyhouse with precision and compassion, managed the day to day affairs of Talljet Inc. in Ling's absence, and, along with the other empath/telepaths, she looked after Laninin. Qhoshi had spent her life around empath/telepaths but she had never seen a child so strong. With a firm but gentle upbringing he would probably become an oracle. Without it - a monster. Qhoshi and the other joyhouse residents had been dubious when the baby Laninin had come to live with them but in time they had grown to love him so much his removal had become inconceivable. The Deltans, understanding Laninin's orphan state better than anyone except Ling, had adored him from the gitgo and had carried him around like a doll until he could walk on his own. (He adored them, too.)

"Look, Qhoshi, I'm a little nervous," Ling confided. "Things are bad and I've a feeling they're going to get worse."

"Yes, as I was saying."

"Yes, exactly as you were saying, my dear, and right as usual." Ling smiled at his friend and Managing Director. "Here's the worst case scenario: the planet systems around the Tossarian Autonomous zone decide they smell blood, try to push into our space and drive us out of it. We've lost the oblique support of the Klingons and the united Klong-Rom Empire is going to lull everyone that doesn't know better into a false sense of security. I suspect the fighting will come down this way and push against the border of Federation space. Well before that happens, I want you to take everyone to Vulcan, to the Sas and lay low until the storm passes."

"All right, Ling, wonderful big picture, let's do some details." Qhoshi like to know exactly where every stone might be. "Exactly what systems are you worried about?"

"The Ertig system has been restless for years. The Mvovlris, Drobshri, Sovla, and Brishrji systems will follow the Ertig if they think they can improve their position."

"When all they'll really do is splinter and make themselves vulnerable to the Klong-Rom Empire or whatever."

"The Klong-Rom Empire is doomed to fall apart, it's merely a stopgap to avoid a war until the two empires can work out who they want on their respective thrones. It's in everybody's best interest not to start another Klingon Romulan war. That's how poor MajaKhat got dragged into all this, he's just a figurehead until the real power emerges. However, I doubt those idiot Yhets can keep the peace. I've a very serious feeling we're in for another nasty Klong Rom war. In that case, our space and the systems around it that are in the non-aligned corridor between Klingon and Federation space will be pushed against Federation space to avoid the fighting in Klingon space."

"Ling, most of the galaxy outside of the Federation would have to be at war for that to happen." She looked into Ling's eyes. "Unless it's already started."

"It has, Qhoshi. It started when the Tziviian Pirates decided their Autonomous zone was too small and the Tossarian Pirates were too weak to be a threat anymore. Too weak because the Tossarians didn't finish the 'invasion' they started last year. The Klingons have gone from that area and the Roms are quieter than usual due to the problems, now solved, of imperial succession. Also, the Federation has thinned out their border patrols in this quadrant because the isolationists on Terra want to forget this end of known space. This has given every scalawag from here to there the idea that none of the three major powers in the known galaxy will lift a finger if they decide to grab some more space. And, you know, dahling, they're right."

"Aren't these scalawags afraid of the united Klong-Rom Empire?"

"Not as long as the Yhets, now the major clan there, are too busy consolidating their own power and settling old scores to notice the rest of the quadrant going to hell in high heels. The non-aligned space folk will simply grab as much as they can and sort it out with the Roms and the Klongs later. In the meantime, the amount of damage they can do to us is astronomical."

"I see. Well then, perhaps Laninin did say something useful."

"Which was?"

"He said he enjoys will be enjoying to enjoy being in the hot dry place."

"Vulcan."

"Vulcan."

part 47

"Do these apartments suit you, Hraja?" Kmordri asked

"As well as anything here." Hraja was not in a great mood. Kmordri had not allowed him to attend Maja I's coronation and Hraja was bright enough to realize that this was how private and domestic his existence in the Imperial household would be. If he was even allowed to stay near his father and Amanda. The new apartments Kmordri referred to were huge, lavish and in another wing - Kmordri's wing - of the palace.

"And does the studio contain everything you require?" Kmordri ventured.

"Yes. Except one thing."

"Name it. You shall have it."

"The Gozshedrefreingin Commune."

Kmordri actually gave a few seconds of thought as to whether something like that could be arranged before he decided to laugh it off: "Oh, no, my beauty. Even if it still existed..."

"WHAT!" Hraja leapt to his feet.

"As I've said." Kmordri rose to his feet just in case the MageQuad attacked him. "The Commune no longer exists. It was exiled by the SRL."

"The what?"

"The Supreme Religious Leader."

"But they live....?"

"The last I was informed, they have fled the Empire." Kmordri watched Hraja sink back into his chair. "There is, however, a price on their heads." He sat himself. "They cannot elude justice forever," he added, turning his thoughts to the pleasures he anticipated this evening.

"But they live," Hraja said quietly, thinking: 'And you will never catch them.' He turned to find the Klingon admiring him with an undisguised proprietorial air.

"You must learn to enjoy your new life, Hraja." Kmordri said gently. "I will do all I am able to please you in it. I will, however, expect you to please me in return."

Hraja blandly returned the Klingon's gaze while weighing the relative merits of living in lavish disgrace and being dead. He lowered his eyes in his best imitation of submission. 'Well,' he thought. 'At least when you live there is always a plan B.' From beneath lowered jet lashes he watched Kmordri rise.

"Come to bed," the Klingon husked. "I long for you."

* * *

/have you given any thought to our lasssst dissscussssion, MageCheq?/

/yes, quite a lot/

/and/

/I am not ready to transcend this body or this reality/

/why not?/

/I have more lessons and I love too many here to leave it/

"Maja." Hobie broke into his brother's communication with Yrit and Gvo; it made him nervous.

"Yesssss, NoloHobie?" Maja sighed. He could feel the hunters smile in their minds.

"Nothing. Qwuushi and Oza-Tol will stay with the ships while we go in. You, with Yrit, Neria-Tza and Mizat. Me, with Gvo, Ashon and Jir." He turned to the hunters: "Are you sure you've got them?" He referred to the unpleasant scene of the hunters mauling MajaKhat's cloak and Hraja's sketchbook. Hobie had further demanded that they find an object in the Commune with residual emanations, which they did with ease. He wanted to be one hundred and ten percent sure of them before they went into Romulan space.

"Yessss. Bring usss to the northern end of thisss building," Yrit sighed, pointing to the palace on the viewscreen.

"We're lucky. No moon tonight," Jir said.

"Yesssss. Lucky," Gvo sighed at him. Jir, unnerved, moved to the other side of the small bridge area.

Hobie maneuvered himself between the hunters and his brothers. 'Why bother for Maja,' he thought sourly. 'He likes these ghouls now.'

The two little cloaked ships moved silently out of the stratosphere and down toward the surface. Yrit and Gvo had left their ship in orbit. If they succeeded, they would have a new ship from Talljet Shipyards Ltd. and no longer need it. If they failed, their bodies would be destroyed and they would no longer need a space ship at all.

The ships glided through the moonless night and passed unobserved by the Romulan monitoring devices. Hobie had improved on a sensor jamming device he'd 'borrowed' from the Oviriccins that deflected the beam so subtly around the object that it was unobserved in the field. They were counting on that, and the wild improbability of anyone being insane enough to kidnap the Emperor out of his own palace, to lull the guards into a false sense of security and let them pass by unnoticed. And luck, dear god, weren't they all counting on their Talljet luck.

They let a ramp down onto a deserted balcony on the level Yrit and Gvo indicated. Gvo led his party east and Yrit led his west.

Hobie, Jir and Ashon could move like shadows but they felt like amateurs compared to Gvo. They followed in awe of his fleet silent progress. He paused when they encountered a guard and waited for him to pass them by. This happened several times before they reached MajaKhat's heavily guarded door.

Not wishing to raise an alarm, they quietly slipped forward and dispatched the two Romulan guards. It was quieter for Jir and Ashon to slit their throats and have Hobie and Gvo ease them to the floor behind some pillars. Gvo preferred not to send telepathic energy to subdue the guards because the Roms were telepaths themselves and might send up an alarm before they could stop them with more direct methods. Besides, the hunt was to find MajaKhat, not kill Rom guards. That he could leave to the Talljets and their friends. His job was to receive energy, not send it.

"How long before the guard changes?" Hobie whispered to Gvo.

"They had jusssst come here," Gvo sighed, referring to the last thoughts of the dead guards.

"Good." Hobie pushed the big doors open and they slipped inside.

~~

Neria-Tza and Mizat were impressed and horrified by how well Maja and Yrit worked together. They moved in tandem, each seeming to read the other's thoughts and be exactly where they were needed. It was creepy but necessary because the area Hraja was in was heavily guarded by Klingons. They had already left a trail of dead Klingons hidden behind them and they were not even half way there.

They arrived at Hraja's apartments as the guard was changing. There were ten Klingon warriors guarding the door: four for Hraja and another six for Kmordri, who had decided to spend most of the night there.

Yrit motioned them back down the hallway and onto a terrace. He leaned over and looked up and down the walls.

"Up one level," he sighed and they followed him down the corridor and up the staircase. They came to a door that opened into a parlor. They moved through the rooms until they reached the bedroom, which was unoccupied, and onto the balcony.

Mizat leaned over the railing and wished they'd brought some rope or something. Neria-Tza wished he wasn't afraid of heights; flying was all right but up here, in the open was bad, very bad.

Maja came out of the bedroom tying the bed curtains together: "C'mon you sluggards, I know you can tie knots, help me make a rope. Yrit, go lock the door. Hopefully the owner of these rooms won't be back for a while."

They let the rope over the balcony and dropped silently down onto Hraja's. It was a warm night and the doors were open. The quartet moved around the bed and looked down at the sleepers, Maja by his son, and Mizat and Yrit by Kmordri, should he wake and need to be subdued. Neria-Tza took up a position by the doors, in case they had company.

Yirt and Maja exchanged looks. Yrit placed his hand on Kmordri's brow so he would not wake and Maja placed his hand over Hraja's mouth so he would not cry out.

Hraja woke with a start and threw himself into Maja's arms: "I knew you'd come," he whispered.

"Get up and get dressed," Maja whispered coldly. "Who's your 'friend'?" He jerked his chin at Kmordri, still under Yrit's fingers.

"He's not my friend," Hraja said, pulling on his clothes.

"Oh?" Maja pulled a knife from his belt and handed it to Hraja, who took it and looked at it for a moment.

Mizat stepped out of his way as Hraja moved around the side of the bed. Hraja looked at Yrit, who did not move, and estimated he could cut Kmordri's throat from that angle. He raised the knife to strike.

"Wait," Yrit breathed and everybody froze. "Not yet, not yet, for him."

Hraja struck but Yrit was faster and stayed the MageQuad's hand, the blade millimeters from Kmordri's throat. Hraja turned to shake the hunter off but one look into Yrit's eyes took all the fight out of the youngster. Yrit moved Hraja's hand away from Kmordri and shook the knife out of it and onto the bed beside the peacefully sleeping Klingon.

Maja moved to his son's side and gently pulled him out of Yrit's grasp: "We go," he hissed.

They turned to see a panel open in the wall and Kmordri's valet stepped into the room. He might have raised an alarm except Neria-Tza glided up behind him and broke his neck before he could.

"Let's go," Neria-Tza suggested.

"Not yet." Malira was standing in the passageway holding a sidearm blaster.

"Malira! How nice to see you again," Maja whispered, trying to think of how they could kill her without the blaster going off and deciding they couldn't.

"What are you doing here, Gozine?"

"Getting my son."

"Leave him. I need him to keep Kmordri in line."

"Oh, so that's General KmordriYhet. I thought he'd be taller," Maja mused, impressed nonetheless by Hraja's former bedmate. "My son is no good for keeping Klingons in line. Too much heart, not enough steel. Why are you here right now?"

"I followed the valet as I do every night. When Kmordri leaves, Hraja and I have a long talk about him, don't we, child?"

Hraja was silent.

"Do you always bring a blaster?" Maja was impatient to be gone.

"I'm always armed now that I live in civilization again," she said.

Maja had a flash of insight: "Give it up, Malira, it's all over. You must realize this sham Klong-Rom empire can't last much longer. You know what will happen to MajaKhat and Hraja when it falls. They're dead. You're dead. You engineered this didn't you? And then you handed it to the Yhets, who could care less about you, your son and your grandson."

"That's why I need Hraja for Kmordri."

"And when the Klingon Regent, Admiral KzaxreaYhet, recalls Kmordri to Klingon because he's under your thumb, what then?"

Malira was silent, loathing to hear what she had already concluded herself and not willing to let go yet.

"Look, Malira, you've still got Maja I going. Just let me take my son home and you can do whatever you like," Maja ventured.

Malira narrowed her eyes at them: "You'd never come for just one, Gozine. I know you, you've come for MajaKhat and his girl as well."

"But I'll settle for Hraja and go in peace," Maja lied.

Malira considered this for a moment.

"Listen, Malira, it's all over." Maja insisted. "Come with us. You can build a new civilization somewhere and be armed all the time there, too. Whatever you want, but let's go, now."

They started at the sound of an outer door opening and footsteps coming closer. Malira moved to the door and opened it a crack before the caller could knock.

"You've got heavy boots, Klingon," she snarled in that language. "What do you want?"

"General Kmordri asked to be wakened at this time, your highness."

"He is in the shower and will be with you very soon."

"Very good, ma'am." He turned and left.

Malira turned back to her audience: "Damn you, Gozine, I had all the answers an hour ago. Come, this way to MajaKhat, I used to play in these passages when I was a girl."

~~

Leaving Ashon to guard the outer doors, Hobie and Jir glided across the outer rooms following Gvo's unerring progress to MajaKhat. They slipped into the dark bedroom and looked down at the sleeping figures in the bed: Maja I and his imperial concubine, Amanda.

Hobie clamped a hand over MajaKhat's mouth and shook him awake.

"Oh thank the merciful mind of god," MajaKhat whispered, seeing it was Hraja's uncles. "We've got to get my son."

"Maja is seeing to it; get dressed." Hobie pulled a stiletto out of his boot and looked at Amanda, who'd just woken.

"Hobie, what are you...?" MajaKhat began.

"She'll only slow us down," Hobie said quietly, leaning forward.

"Fuck you, Hobie," Jir cut in. "I'll carry her." He pulled Amanda out of the bed and onto his back. He picked up a robe at the end of the bed and tossed it to her.

"That's good thinking, Jir. Hobie, come on!" MajaKhat wanted to be gone before an argument started.

"Wait," Gvo breathed.

"Let's go," Hobie snarled in an undertone.

"Wait," Gvo repeated.

"Let's go." Ashon stuck his head in, wondering what the hell was holding everything up. He leapt sideways when the panel next to him began to open.

"Hold." Gvo ordered and everybody took their hands off their weapons. "This way." He led them past Neria-Tza, holding the panel open, and into the passageway.

They found their co-rescuers, Hraja and Malira waiting for them and they flew silently through the walls of the palace to their ships.

Jir, Amanda, MajaKhat, Mizat, Neria-Tza and Gvo flung themselves into Oza-Tol's ship and Maja, Hobie, Hraja, Ashon, Malira and Yrit boarded the one piloted by Qwuushi. They moved silently and swiftly away from the palace, listening intently for alarms that never sounded.

Hobie heaved a huge sigh of relief and pulled Hraja into his arms: "You all right, little one?"

"I am now."

Hobie kissed his nephew's cheek and moved forward to help Qwuushi, who didn't need any help, steer. Malira and Ashon settled into seats in the back. Yrit stood quietly in the shadows, studying Hraja.

Maja gave his son a hard look: "Why was KmordriYhet in your bed, Hraja?"

Hobie looked back at them.

"He forced me..." Hraja began.

"He raped you?"

Hraja nodded.

"Rapists don't usually fall asleep beside their victims, child."

"I..."

"Maja, leave him alone," Hobie broke in. "There are all kinds of rape, whether you can appreciate that or not."

"I see," Maja said icily.

"No, you don't, Noli. It's never happened to you, thanks to the mercy of god," Hobie said coldly.

Maja backed off: "All right, let's leave it then." He turned to Ashon. "This will be the easiest money you've made in a long time, DrossiCheq."

"You can tell me that when I've spent it, MageCheq." Ashon informed him dryly.

Maja sat next to Malira: "Nice try, Malira. You might have made it work with anyone but the Yhets."

"Like you, the Hierophant and the Haats?"

"Maybe."

"It is futile to speculate on what might have been, Gozine," Malira pronounced majestically. "As to the future, where are you dropping me off?"

"With the Commune, if you don't mind. You'll have to pass yourself off as a Xochian or something."

"Will it require me to fart, spit and participate in lewd acts?"

"Only if you wish, Malira. You can, however, keep your name. Just stick to Klingonese or Patois and you'll be fine."

Feeling Yrit's eyes on him, Hraja looked up at him and then away, finding the PholCheq's gaze too intense.

"Why did you stop me?" Hraja asked quietly.

"It wasss not needed. You have never killed anything in your life. He did not damage you. You would have regretted it."

"How do you know?"

"I know."

"He did damage me," Hraja said stubbornly, turning away.

"Not enough to kill him." Yrit reached out to caress a blond curl. /You are not made to kill a sleeping man, Hraja, it is not in your nature. You were wise not to fight him, to wait for rescue. All is well, all is well. Sleep now, you are safe here./

Hraja felt a gentle peace descending and he relaxed for the first time in weeks. He looked around the cabin, at Maja and Hobie, and felt safe again, that he didn't have to dread the next day anymore. Sleepily, he curled up in a chair and dozed off under Yrit's watchful eye.

~~

"Was he going to kill me, Jir?" Amanda asked.

"Oh, I don't know, Amanda, maybe," Jir prevaricated. "Hobie's having a bad day, you know?"

"Thank you for stopping him."

"Thank him for allowing me to stop him. By the way, Amanda, you make a smashing brunette. I hope you keep your hair that way." Jir strolled to the front to flirt with his old friend, Neria-Tza.

MajaKhat put his arm around Amanda and told her not to worry about it.

"Like Jir says, he's having a bad day. I'm sure he wasn't going to use that knife he pulled," he soothed.

"If you say so," Amanda sighed. "I'm just glad to be out of there."

"Yes." MajaKhat turned to Jir. "Where're we bound, Jir?"

"The Commune."

"Surely not!"

"Well, a few things have changed since you were last there, MajaKhat." Jir proceeded to explain the new circumstances to the horrified former Klingon Master.

~

The two ships flew on to rendezvous with the Dancer, which was to convey MajaKhat, Amanda and Hraja to the Commune on Dhrgestera.

Mr. Yrit and Mr. Gvo were conducted to Povarb where a brand new, top of the line, long distance, deep space ship awaited them. Their twenty percent wholesale Vitisi tonne in crystals was paid to the usual account by Ling.

Ashon, with Amanda, contacted T'Pau on Vulcan and assured her of Amanda's well-being and intention to remain with the Commune. Ashon was paid his fee, which was matched by Ling in Federation credits.

Hobie, Jir and Maja Talljet divided the Tossarian pirate forces between them and spread out in the quadrant to attempt to restore their authority again. The ensuing war and turmoil in the Romulan and Klingon Empires, formerly the Klong-Rom Empire, after the collapse of that monarchy, was creating chaos in non-aligned space. The Talljets had some success reestablishing the boundaries of their space, the Tossarian Autonomous Zone, but their efforts were thwarted by the hostilities spilling over the Klingon and Romulan borders. The brothers were also up to their necks fighting the Tziviian pirates, whose incursions were bolder and bolder. The Talljets evacuated their shipbuilding communities on Povarb and Drovilla to the safety of Dhrgestera, where they set up those same operations to supply the fight. Hobie, Jir, Maja and their ships found themselves forced farther and farther back toward the border with Federation space. They found themselves defending a very thin strip of space between Dhrgestera and all hell.

Ling put Qhoshi, with Smig as her second in command, in charge of the move to Vulcan. Everybody not directly involved in ship and weapons building were packed up and sent off. He put himself in command of what was left of the Talljet/Tossarian fortunes in non-aligned space and sailed off at the head of a fleet to reestablish order in the Ertig system. This would free up Jir's ships in the zone between that system and the Brishrji system. It would give them some breathing space if they could restore a line of docile planets between these two systems. They could then consolidate their holdings and wait for the Klingon Romulan war to burn itself out. Ling could do nothing to help Hobie and Maja in their struggles in the Mvovlris system. Besides, except for dodging Klingon warships driven into the neutral zone, Hobie and Maja were winning their battles with the pirates and rebel planets there. They were in the thinnest area of non-aligned space between the Federation and the Klingon Empire. All would have been well there except that the Romulans were sending forays through non-aligned space to strike at the Klingon's underdefended backside.

All this turmoil in their backyard finally got the Federation's attention and Star Fleet put every ship with any kind of weaponry on a line in defense of their outer border.

part 48

Kirk pulled McCoy into his arms: "Stay with me tonight," he urged.

~

After cutting a swath through the Ertig system to disrupt the Certegian militia attacking Jir's forces, Ling's ships were ambushed by the combined forces of Lashodrian and Vri pirates.

~

"Does patrolling the border always make you so amorous?" McCoy asked in his most sultry voice.

"No. You do." He reached down to grab the doctor's ass.

~

In the Mvovlris system Hobie was fighting to drive the Gokia Guild mercenaries out of his trade and supply routes before raw materials supplying Dhrgestera's shipyards were cut off.

~

Since being assigned to the border operations, Kirk and Spock had changed their shifts so one of them was always on the bridge. This gave them each more time alone with Dr. McCoy, which they both, and the doctor, were enjoying. And the danger was a turn on, they had to admit.

~

Able to take the offensive again and trying to aid Ling, Jir's forces were temporarily trapped by the Neqfarsian Imperial Trading League's mercenary fleet, which was merely trying to escort as shipment of materiel through the war zone.

~

Kirk eased off McCoy's black t-shirt and bent down to caress the doctor's hard nipples with his lips.

~

On the other side of the Mvovlris system Maja was besieging the planet Yrva, the major stronghold of the Yrvan Revolutionary Forces and their temporary allies, the Ciren pirates.

~

Maneuvering them into a sixty-nine, McCoy gave himself over to the pleasure of Kirk's taste and texture.

~

Ling and his ships made a run for it into the Xochian Autonomous zone where Ling's allies in the Urizi Guild drove back the last of the pursuing pirates.

~

He drew Kirk's balls into his mouth very slowly, one at a time.

~

Hobie's fight turns ugly when an expeditionary force of twenty Romulan Birds of Prey drops out of warp to attack both sides. Hobie fled to join forces with Maja and regroup to attack again.

~

Kirk eased McCoy's penis down his throat and wished he could reach the lubricant under the pillow.

~

Knowing Ling was, for the moment, out of danger, Jir retreats back to the edge of the Droshri system, where they were shot at but not further attacked by the Aluq militia.

~

McCoy returned his mouth to Kirk's cock and swirled his tongue around the rosy head.

~

Maja's ships were driven away from Yrva and toward the Federation by a flotilla of Klingon battlecruisers on their way to meet the Romulans just arriving in the Mvovlris system.

~

Kirk dragged his tongue along the underside of McCoy's erection and played his lips around the edges of the helmet.

~

Hobie's ships and the Gokia Guild mercenaries, fleeing the pursuing Roms, found themselves trapped between the Roms and Klingons and were forced to turn toward the border of Federation space.

~

"Don't move," Kirk said, sitting up to grab the lube under the pillow. He lay down again and nuzzled at the base of McCoy's cock.

~

Using the Klingon's momentum, the Yrvan Revolutionary Forces and the Ciren pirates drove Maja's forces to the edge of Federation space.

~

Kirk stroked the underside of McCoy's cock as he slid a well oiled finger into the doctor.

~

Hoping to skirt along the Federation border to the relative safety of the Drobshri system, Hobie's forces were driven ever closer to the Star Fleet patrols by the battle between the Roms and Klingons.

~

Gently lifting McCoy's hips to place a pillow beneath them, Kirk reached under the doctor to caress his cock and pressed a kiss to the back of his lover's neck.

~

In an irresistible charge, the Romulans drove the Klingon ships into the Yrvan Revolutionary Forces engaged with Maja's ships thus forcing Maja's ships, half the YRF and some of the Ciren pirates into the line of the Federation ships patrolling the border.

~

Applying a generous amount of lube to his cock, Kirk stroked himself a little higher in anticipation of slipping inside McCoy.

~

Trying to escape the Rom and Klingon battle in the midst of which the other half of Yrvan Revolutionary Forces and the Ciren pirates suddenly found themselves, the YRF ships and the Ciren pirates ran headlong into Hobie's ships thus driving them into the line of the Star Fleet patrols.

~

Centering his cock, Kirk pressed gently but firmly forward and inside.

~

Klingon reinforcement ships attacked the Roms' flank and all the combatants were driven into Federation space.

~

Kirk paused just past McCoy's tight ring to give the doctor a moment to adjust. As often as they did this, Kirk always waited for the tiny rebellion that accompanied this act to subside in McCoy before taking full possession him.

~

Hobie's ship, the Lyra, was crippled in the melee and he and his crew were forced to abandon it.

~

With Spock, as well as Jim, McCoy always felt a moment of resistance to being penetrated. As if the willing submission required for him and his lover to fully enjoy this act might not occur. It always did but McCoy was thankful that his lovers understood this and waited for him to surrender on his own instead of demanding it. On the other hand, were they to demand it, they might not get it.

~

Knowing Hobie was in trouble, Maja brought his ships around to try to come to his brother's aid but is cut off and surrounded by Klingon ships.

~

Kirk felt McCoy relax enough to press forward a little more. He was further encouraged by McCoy subtly thrusting up to meet his gentle strokes.

~

Scanning the poorly shielded shuttlecraft making for the Yaga, the exec of the USS Eisler picked up Hobie's Federation Identifier Signal and had him beamed aboard and taken into custody.

~

Kirk paused to rest as he hit bottom and reached beneath McCoy to stroke his cock. He rubbed McCoy's moisture over the length of the doctor's hardness.

~

The rest of Hobie's crew, including Neria-Tza and Mizat got safely aboard the Yaga, and seeing that nothing could be done for Hobie, and on orders from Jir in telepathic communication with Hobie, they ran for it.

~

Ready to be fucked, McCoy shifted suggestively under Kirk. Perceptively, Kirk interpreted these actions and began to move in tiny thrusts against the doctor's backside.

~

Informed by the Ciren pirates, who were monitoring Maja's communications, that the outlaw and heretic GozineGhet was in command of the ship, Maja was ordered to surrender by Captain KvriXert of the Klingon Empire.

~

Murmuring amorously into McCoy's neck, Kirk lengthened his strokes.

~

Maja agreed to surrender if his ship and crew were released. He was beamed aboard the Klingon ship.

~

Very close, Kirk pounded into McCoy's willing body and brought the doctor off in the same moment as himself. He lay propped up on his elbows to catch his breath for a moment before pulling out and rolling onto his back beside McCoy.

~

As promised by Captain KvriXert, Maja's ship was released and rejoined Hobie's ships, now making for Droshri system where they hoped to regroup with Jir.

~

McCoy reached over to tousle Kirk's hair and pull him into a playful kiss, when Spock commed from the bridge to inform his captain that he was ordered to the USS Albright to assist in the interrogation of Hobie Talljet.

* * *

/Not a lot we can do about it from here, Nolo./ Ling was stuck in the Xochian Autonomous zone.

/Ain't that the truth./ Jir was dodging the Aluq militia in the Droshri system. /Ling, see if you can find an old friend in the Klingon Empire and go see what you can do for Maja./

/I'm all right, Jir. It's the Xert clan I'm with. Old friends of the Ghets./ Maja neglected to mention he was in a heavily guarded cell nonetheless.

/And you're on your way to the Klingon homeworld, which even you can realize is bad news, Maja./ Hobie looked around his own heavily guarded cell on the Albright. He vaguely wished these Terrans would bring him some water that was not drugged. He did not allow his brothers to be aware of this thought.

/I'll go, Nolos, I know some people in the Klingon merchant fleet that owe me a favor./ Ling was hopeful that a way could be found to liberate Maja before Captain KvriXert reached Klingon.

/Hobie, I've sent word to Storen and Smig to petition to have your trial and incarceration on Vulcan due to your, and our, superior telepathic abilities. I'm also worried that you won't get a fair trial anywhere else./ Jir was worried that even on Vulcan there would be problems.

/The Terrans are howling for my head, Noli, they run the Federation. I assume I'm going to have a Federation trial, won't even Vulcan judges be forced to hang me to placate the Terrans?/ Hobie neatly outlined Jir's concerns.

/As your lawyer, I advise you not to be negative. Much depends on the kind of defense you get there./ Unbeknownst to his brothers, Jir had been preparing himself for this for years.

/Have faith, Hobie, Jir is an excellent lawyer./ Maja was almost as serene as he appeared to his Klingon guards, half of whom had already asked his forgiveness.

/No doubt. When was the last time you were in a Vulcan courtroom, Jir?/ Hobie bucked up a little.

/....... well, actually, never./

/What!/

/But I know how to do it./

/Never, Jir? I thought .../

/Maja, you've been away quite a while and Jir has had very successful cases elsewhere..../ Ling was one of Jir's major clients.

/Criminal cases under the Federation code?/ Hobie loved his brother but if he'd never...

/Don't forget the war crimes trial and the trial on Brosia 8. Those were criminal, no?/ Maja could smell blood and didn't know which brother to defend from which.

/Yes! And he won all of them. He's never lost a case. Have you Jir?/ Ling's optimism was a little rattled and he hoped it didn't show too much.

/This could be a first./ Hobie was having a really bad day.

/WELL, WHO ELSE ARE YOU GOING TO GET?/

/...../

/WELL?!/

/Well, no one, Jir, calm down please./ Hobie regretted his earlier lack of faith.

The brothers allowed themselves to settle into telepathic harmony once more.

/By the way, Jir, I'm sure you'll be magnificent but why have you never been in a Vulcan courtroom?/ Maja preferred to think about Hobie's situation rather than his own.

/I could always settle my Vulcan cases out of court. It's the only civilized way to do anything. And..../

/And....?/

/And the Vulcan court makes you shave your head and wear these very unflattering robes to appear before it./

/....../

/So! I'm going into a kangaroo court with a bald, badly dressed attorney on his maiden court appearance./

/YES./

/It's wonderful./

/I'll see you on Vulcan, Hobie./

/Godspeed, brothers./

/Godspeed./

* * *

'If these are your people, VulCheq, you're in a lot of trouble.'

Spock paused in his review of the events in the Shirkar Middle School #7 playground long ago. He looked over at Ensign Chekov piloting the shuttlecraft taking him to the Albright. There had been a small debate as to whether Sulu, a better pilot, or Chekov, also a good pilot but not as experienced as Sulu, shouhd deliver him through the dangerous space on the border. It was hoped that if they stayed well behind the line and in constant contact with the Star Fleet warships patrolling it they would have a safe journey. In the end it was decided that, in a pitched battle, Mr. Sulu's expertise was more needed for the many on the Enterprise as opposed to only Spock in the shuttlecraft.

'If these are your people, VulCheq, you're in a lot of trouble.' Hobie had said, breaking up Maja's first fight in defense of Spock.

SpockDeVulCheq still did not know if Hobie was right.

* * *

"So. If the half Vulcan can eat that much Vulcan sand to prove how Vulcan he is then you, as a monobreed, should be able to eat twice that, eh?"

The little group of Vulcan ten year olds around Spock turned to look at the stranger addressing them.

"It's logical, no?"

Spock rose to his feet and brushed the sand off his knees. He looked at the boy with long black hair brushed over his ears and in a tight braid down his back. The facial features were Vulcanoid but the twinkle in the large black eyes reminded him of his mother's family.

"So let's see ya do it."

The boy pushed past Spock to face down Smitok, Spock's main tormentor at school.

"Or are you less Vulcan than the VulCheq."

There was something in the stranger's voice that triggered the need in the group to take a step back, all except Spock and Smitok.

"I have nothing to prove to you, who ever you are." Smitok unwisely stepped forward.

"Oh yeah? I think you do. Maybe you just need some help getting it down." Maja kicked Smitok's legs out from under him and leapt on top of him. He had pried the struggling Vulcan's jaws open and poured in a handful of sand when the other children, except Spock, who was too stunned to move, leapt to Smitok's defense. They were five against one but Maja seemed to be holding his own.

Spock had just decided he should get some help before someone got hurt when two older boys also with long black braids down their backs waded into the brawl and pulled Maja out of it.

"MAJA, SHIIICHO! (Maja, stop it)," the taller of the two commanded dragging the younger boy back. The other big boy stayed between the five bloodied monobreed Vulcans and the strangers as they backed away. Spock found himself standing in an empty space between the two groups.

"SaLING!" Strin's sharp teacher voice rang out behind Spock as a smaller boy also with a braid down his back darted to the trio of strangers. "You are not to leave the classroom without ... permission ..."

Strin trailed off because he, like all the Vulcans present, was watching the cuts and bruises on Maja's face and hands disappear, then reappear on Hobie's face and hands before disappearing once and for all. The teacher shook himself and looked around the group. "And what is going on here?"

"Nothing," Maja offered innocently.

"Nothing?"

"I didn't see you in there," Jir said to Spock, referring to the fight on his behalf.

"These are my people, I will not fight them," Spock said piously.

"If these are your people, VulCheq, you're in a lot of trouble," Hobie told him, keeping a hand on Maja.

"Shiiiiiiiiow, Hobie (Leave him alone)." Maja shrugged under his brother's hand. "Hochofedra (It's my fight, my fun, why should he get involved?)."

"SaHobie and SaJir." SiVrisa, an administrator from the Preparatory Institute joined the group. "It is forbidden to leave the classroom without permission, however politely you excuse yourself." He looked around at the bleeding Vulcans, wary Talljets and puzzled Spock and Strin.

"I am sorry, sir, it was necessary but now I think everything is all right." Hobie turned Maja to face him and looked sternly into his eyes. "Shiiiow, Noli (no trouble, little brother)."

"Shiiiow, Nolo." Maja patted Hobie's cheek and turned to Ling. "Hemzjit, Ling (let's go)." He looked up at Strin, whom Maja, in the course of the morning class, had actually decided he liked. "Hemzjit, Strin." And walked off arm in arm with Ling.

Strin and SiVrisa exchanged bland looks. Strin turned to the remaining middle school boys and herded them back to either the classroom or the school healer, depending on the level of injury.

SiVrisa walked slowly back to the prep school with Hobie and Jir.

"How did you know there was trouble?" SiVrisa asked.

"I could feel it in my mind," Hobie answered, deciding to trust the Vulcan.

"And you, SaJir?"

"The same."

SiVrisa stopped and turned to the youths: "SaMaja will not succeed here if he fights. It is not the Vulcan way."

"At this moment, sir, I have more faith in my brother than your Vulcan way," Hobie said quietly.

Spock had heard the last part of this conversation from Maja a few days after the incident, when Maja was allowed to return to school due to Sarek's efforts on his behalf.

"Sir?" Chekov said quietly to rouse Spock from his reverie.

"Yes, Ensign?"

"We have arrived."

"Yes, I see that, Mr. Chekov." Spock looked around the shuttle bay of the Albright as they waited for the atmosphere to normalize for oxygen breathing life forms.

The exec of the Albright, Carlos Sunna, walked out to meet them.

"I didn't know you were on the Albright, Carlos." Spock had been two classes behind Sunna at the Academy. "I thought you were exec on the O'Brian."

"I was reassigned in the state of emergency. This is Commodore Wolfe's flagship, her captain requested I be assigned here." Sunna smiled at Spock. "I believe you know our captain, she used to be your old boss on the Enterprise, Number One."

Spock digested this news as he introduced Chekov to commander Sunna. Montana Wolfe, for reasons unknown to Spock, loathed him but he did not anticipate any interaction with her on his mission. Number One, now Captain One, Spock assumed, would remain as indifferent to him as always, unless he did something to displease her. Again, as far as he knew, this was not a situation where he would have any opportunity to please or displease her.

"Chekov? That's interesting." Sunna said, amused. "Captain Talljet said something odd yesterday when we asked him what he wanted for dinner. He said he wanted a Chekov. We couldn't figure it out." Laughing, he turned to Spock, who was not laughing.

"How do you find Captain One, Carlos?" Spock asked, changing the subject.

"Terrifying." Sunna led them into the turbolift.

Spock nodded. He himself found his former superior officer somewhat intimidating and challenging as well.

"Her first choice was you, Spock, but neither she nor the Commodore wanted to go up against Kirk for you."

"I did not think Commodore Wolfe would want me on her ship."

"She hates you, Spock, but this is serious out here. Serious enough for her to put aside her wounded vanity for a moment in the interest of defending the Federation..."

"What do you mean 'wounded vanity'?"

"Rumor is that a few years ago Wolfe got drunk, made a pass at you that you didn't even notice and that's why she hates you."

Spock glanced at Chekov, who was doing a bad job of not listening to the conversation.

"I do not recall the incident, Carlos." Spock said, dryly.

"Of course not, Spock, you never notice when anyone is making sexual overtures to you. You're incredible." Sunna looked at Chekov, whose eyes got big. "We had this bet at the Academy about which cadet would get Spock into ..."

"Carlos," Spock cut in. "Mr. Chekov is not interested in our cadet days."

Mr. Chekov modestly lowered his eyes.

Sunna reached out and stroked the ensign's soft cheek: "No, I guess not. Ah, here we are." He led them into the heavily guarded security area.

Hobie looked up with interest at the new arrivals: "Spock! You brought me Chekov. What a pal!"

Spock ignored him and raised his hand in the Vulcan greeting: "Live long and prosper, Hobie Talljet."

"What a thing to say, Spock. I'm locked up, heading for god knows what and all the food and drink they give me is drugged. I could use some water but I'll settle for Chekov instead." He smiled charmingly at the ensign. "But peace and long life, anyway." He waved his split fingers at Spock.

Spock turned to Sunna, who was having an intense conversation with one of the redshirts.

"The Institute suggested that drugs to lower his metabolism might depress his telepathic ability." Sunna said, rather shamefacedly, as he rejoined Spock and Chekov.

"I can assure you it would not, even if they were forced on him," Spock commented.

"Give me a moment, Spock." Sunna walked out of Security and returned a few moments later with a tray of food and a carafe of water. "I punched it up on the replicator for myself so it should be drug free."

"Thank you, Carlos," Spock said, taking the tray. "Will you find something to occupy Mr. Chekov while I speak to Captain Talljet?"

"I should love to, Spock." Sunna looked Chekov over with appreciation.

Spock raised an eyebrow but said nothing as he stepped into the first of four secure cubes leading to Hobie's cell.

"HEY! Where's he going? Hey, Chekov, don't leeeaaave meeeee like this," Hobie howled, much to the delight of the redshirts, who'd decided they quite liked him.

Hobie stepped back as the security screen cut his cell in half. Spock set the tray of food and drink on the table and stepped back himself as Hobie's cell was restored to its original size. Hobie walked up to his table and drank some of the undrugged water.

"Thanks to your friend, Sunna." Hobie sat to face the Vulcan.

Spock nodded and sat down as well. He reviewed his instructions from Admiral Jessup for a moment before he spoke: "The Federation has some questions, Hobie..."

"The Federation can go to hell." Hobie said around a piece of replicated Rijilian cheese. He frowned at it but the taste and texture did not improve.

"It will be helpful to you ..."

"No, it won't."

"The Federation proposes..."

"Whatever it is, I'm against it."

"HOBIE."

"What?"

"I am trying to help you."

Hobie sighed wearily: "Are you? You've come on an errand from StaFlet, in your StaFlet uniform, in a StaFlet craft, with your pretty little StaFlet Chekov, to help me. Help me what, Spock? Give FedPol enough rope to hang me? Thanks. Now that Sunna got me food and drink, I would prefer to have my privacy restored, if you don't mind. Or, if you really cared, you could send Chekov in here. Him, I could talk to all night, preferably lying down, naked."

Spock rose: "Perhaps you'll be more reasonable in a few hours."

"I doubt it, VulCheq. Oh and by the way, if you have a few spare moments in your rewarding Star Fleet lifestyle you might want to meditate on the fact the Klingons caught Maja and are taking him to the homeworld to stand trial as an outlaw and heretic. Something to think about next time your dress uniform collar is too tight and contemplation of the true sufferings of others is a balm to your own."

Spock turned away hoping Hobie would not see the distress his words caused, but Hobie saw it anyway.

/Rot in hell, SpockDeVulCheq./

Spock walked out of the room and sought out a comm unit. He asked to be put in contact with Commander Sunna and was told Mr. Sunna was in the officers' mess on deck eleven. Spock sought him there and found him watching Chekov eat and chat with some other Albright officers.

"That was fast." Sunna said as Spock sat down.

"He was not cooperative. I will try later. Carlos, I need to contact my father on Vulcan..."

"Did you come all the way out here just to use the comm unit, Spock?"

Spock and all those at the table rose to face Commodore Wolfe.

"No, ma'am. I have just learned that Hobie's brother has been arrested by the Klingons. I wish to convey this information to my father because Maja Talljet is a Federation citizen and needs to be represented to the Klingons as such."

Wolfe looked down her nose at him, quite a feat since he was taller: "Come to the bridge with me, Spock. Sunna, as well."

They rode in silence and stepped onto the Albright bridge.

part 49

Captain One turned and rose to vacate the command chair but Wolfe waved her to sit back down.

"Spock is just phoning home, Captain. Give him what he needs and put it on screen." Wolfe pushed her long brown hair off her shoulders and stared intently at the battle between the Yrvan Revolutionary Forces and their former allies, the Ciren pirates, in progress on the other side of the border. The image was being relayed by ships still on the line as the Albright and an escort were headed back into the Federation with their prisoner. The screen split and Sarek appeared on half of it.

Father and son exchanged greetings and Spock told Sarek his news.

"I am aware of this. Jir's law partner, Storen himself, brought me this news. I am making inquiries with the Klingon Embassy here but it does not look promising. They claim to have no knowledge of Maja's arrest."

"What can be done, father?"

"Nothing at this time. I understand Ling is trying to negotiate his release. For the moment, that is his best hope. Why are you on this ship, Spock?"

"I am here to assist in Hobie's interrogation."

"I see. Are you aware that Hobie's trial is to be held on Vulcan and that Storen has lodged a complaint that Hobie is being held incommunicado and without representation by Star Fleet?"

Spock felt Commodore Wolfe stiffen beside him: "No, sir, I was not."

Sarek looked around the Albright bridge and then back at Spock: "I see. I will do whatever I can for Maja. Farewell, Spock." His image was replaced by the battle.

"Thank you, Commodore. Captain." Spock nodded to them and received their nods in turn.

"How are you, Spock?" Captain One asked him.

"I am well."

"How goes it on the Enterprise?"

"Well."

"Good." Captain One, having finished what, for her, was a lengthy social conversation, turned her attention back to her command.

Wolfe had removed herself from the bridge almost before Spock had finished thanking her so Spock and Sunna rode to the security deck alone.

"Are you going to talk to him again?" Sunna asked.

"If you mean Hobie, yes, I intend to speak to him again," Spock said.

"There's talk that the Terran Ministry of Justice will try to have him hanged if he's convicted."

"I doubt that will be allowed, Carlos. I know the Vulcans would object. I'm sure he would be sentenced to the usual punishment of transportation, if he is convicted."

"If he is convicted," Sunna repeated softly.

* * *

/Kzost says he can do nothing for you, Maja./ Ling was hidden aboard a freighter in orbit around the Klingon homeworld.

/I know. I can feel how bad he feels. Tell him I'll be okay./ Maja wished he felt so sure.

Maja's former position in the Empire had not done him much good so far. He was first beaten and then interrogated mechanically. Without his brothers he could only heal himself with the healing trance he'd learned on Vulcan and relearned from Sarek. The MageCheq left the worst of the surface bruises so the Klingons could feel a sense of accomplishment. When there were less than three interrogators present, he could telepathically lull them into a trance wherein they thought they were still torturing him. This did not work with more than two. His best strategy in that case was to dive into a healing trance and remain there for as long as possible. This actually worked because it was so boring for the audience, everybody lost interest and went away. To distract himself from the pain he could not avoid, Maja separated and classified all its aspects: pressure, burning or puncture; panic, horror, disgust singly or in some combination; crunching or plopping sound; burning flesh, blood or acid/chemical smell. The annoying part was that he was not asked any questions, leading him to believe that it was all decided and he would simply and quietly be executed one day. Maja did not allow his brothers to know what was happening to him. In fact, nothing had happened for several days and he was wondering why. He looked up as his cell door opened to admit, he assumed, another interrogator.

"Get some ice, antiseptic and bandages," Kroldt said hoarsely to his aides after a moment of staring at Maja and then stepped inside. He crossed to the plank Maja lay on and sat next to him. "I could not get here before now ..."

"Did you stop the torture?"

"I think so. I..."

"Then I'm grateful for that."

Kroldt sighed. "I sold my soul to the Hierophant Kvreda to stop it. Gozine...." The Klingon pulled Maja into his arms and rocked him.

Maja leaned against him. It was nice to be held like this even if he didn't trust Kroldt ten steps out of his sight. "Why Kvreda?"

"He's got the Regent's ear."

"Is it still Admiral KzaxreaYhet?"

"Yes. Why wouldn't it be?" Kroldt gently applied some ice to the swelling on Maja's face.

"Dunno. I thought he might have lost control of it now there isn't the combined Empire."

Kroldt leaned back and gave Maja a hard look: "The Yhets lost a little ground but they hardly noticed it. There's a rumor that General KmordriYhet pines for your middle son, with whom he fell in love." The Klingon washed the cuts and scrapes on Maja's face and moved to tend the lashes on his back. "There are two rumors about the ex-Emperor's escape. One is that you and Hobie the Pirate were involved. The other is that demons escorted the royal party to the Federation."

Maja smiled in his mind and wished he could tell Kroldt that both rumors were true.

"Your trial is tomorrow. The Hierophants Kbxidi and Kuvrinis have demanded it in the name of the Church. They say that you, as a priest, however disgraced, have a right to defend yourself in a public assembly."

"I never knew they liked me so well."

"The Church fears that if you are executed as a common criminal it will set a precedent that will eventually destroy us all."

"Then the Supreme Religious Leader should not have exiled me."

"The SRL's only comment on you is that he wished you'd died in transit. He is not your problem, Gozine. Your real and true enemy is Admiral KzaxreaYhet. He wants to make an example of you as a warning to any who would defy the new Yhet power structure."

"Let me understand this: I was exiled for disobeying you, Master, wasn't I? What have the Yhets to do with that?"

"Gozine, the Yhets do not believe demons removed MajaKhat from the Klong-Rom throne. They believe it was you and they intend to punish you for that."

"So the trial is a formality."

"Yes. You will be publicly immolated directly after the trial. I hope you have put your spiritual life in order, Gozine. I will hear your last confession if you like."

"Thank you, no, I'm quite ready to face my fate as I am."

The prison was quite old and the sounds of profound suffering drifted into Maja's cell.

"Then I shall leave you." The Hierophant rose, trying to ignore the scream of pain echoing through the halls. "God help you, GozineGhet." He and his aides made a hasty exit.

"WHY WHY WHY WHY WHY WHY" rang through the building in agony.

Maja stepped to the bars of his cell and watched the Hierophant scuttling away in fear.

Kroldt had reached the bottom tier and froze there when he heard Master Ghet, whose voice and words had made him believe there truly was a god, begin to speak: "My brothers and sisters. Here, in this prison of blood and bone, we cannot know why our bodies suffer. The infinite mind of god is not open to us on this subject.

"All we can know is that this flesh we live in is but a tiny part of what we are. That it can be destroyed but that our true being remains untouched, uncorrupted and undying. This flesh feels pain, the pain is real but soon that within you that questions your suffering, that of you that is beyond sensation, emotion and the entire physical plane, will be free of this agony. And in that freedom there is no more pain, no more fear, no more suffering, and no more death.

"There is nothing else to know except this. Know it, have faith in it and you will be victorious in it. That is all the mind of god will do for you here."

'Amen,' Kroldt thought, unfreezing and hurrying away. He did not notice the aura of peaceful courage and faith that descended on the prison and washed away the fear for awhile.

The Hierophant did, however, hear the cries of 'St. Gozine' that went up shortly after Maja stopped speaking.

* * *

Hobie successfully resisted all Spock's efforts to interrogate him. In frustration, Spock had finally sent in Chekov to try to question the pirate, but Hobie had merely romanced the blushing ensign and Spock was forced to concede defeat. He and Chekov returned to the Enterprise, were debriefed and went on with their lives.

"I'm sorry you had a bad time with Hobie but I'm glad you're back home now," McCoy said, stripping off his clothes and slipping into Spock's bed that night.

"Yes," Spock murmured, pulling the doctor close and stopping whatever he was going to say with a kiss.

Sometimes Spock just wanted silence in his lovemaking and McCoy knew him well enough to know that this was one of those times. So McCoy decided he'd best put his mouth to good use elsewhere.

The doctor kissed a trail down to Spock's flat nipples and nipped and sucked them to hardness. He ran his tongue over the Vulcan's flat hard belly, through the hair, down to his arching pale green cock. McCoy swirled his tongue around the head and clamped his lips under the helmet. He pumped the shaft a bit before taking a firm grip on the base and squeezing as hard as he could, while sucking very hard on the head. This was exhausting for the human but Spock seemed to enjoy it so. At least he was rock hard in seconds.

Spock ran his fingers through the doctor's warm brown hair and gave himself over to pleasure. He opened the link and found Kirk fantasizing about McCoy and masturbating. Spock left the link open and stroked his fingers along McCoy's temple, not melding but still conveying his heightened arousal.

McCoy smiled as best he could around Spock's cockhead; he could tell already it was going to be a good night. He worked his mouth as far down the shaft as he could and caressed the Vulcan's balls. Feeling Spock urging him up the bed, McCoy lifted his mouth and gave the head a few last loving licks before he crawled up over the supine Vulcan.

Spock kissed him deeply. Impatient for union, he lingered in the kiss nonetheless because McCoy (and Kirk) were enjoying it so much. Still kissing McCoy, Spock rolled the doctor onto his back and reached for the lubricant in the bedside table. He was pleased when McCoy spread his legs a little wider and drew up his knees. Spock quickly slipped in one, then two slick fingers. He put a generous amount of the gel on his cock and rolled the human forward. He centered his cock against McCoy's anus and paused until McCoy thrust gently up, urging Spock forward. Pressing gently in, Spock felt both humans gasp as the head slipped past the doctor's tight ring. Spock paused again to let McCoy adjust and sank a little deeper hearing the doctor sighing 'yes, yes.' It had been a while since they had done this so Spock went slow and easy. He hit bottom, gathered the doctor in his arms and kissed him. Sucking McCoy's tongue into his mouth, Spock began to slowly fuck him.

McCoy groaned in abandon beneath Spock and thrust up to meet his lover's strokes. He pulled his mouth away from Spock's so he could pant against the Vulcan's shoulder and hold on as Spock fucked him silly. Each stroke caressed the doctor's prostate and he was almost incoherent with pleasure. Nevertheless, he drew his knees up a little higher to accommodate Spock's harder thrusts.

Spock reached between them and wrapped his long warm hand around McCoy's erection. He pumped it twice before he felt it jerking beneath his hand and the doctor's ass clenching around him. The Vulcan slammed his cock into his lover and came with him. He wrapped his arms around McCoy and lay panting on top of him, his face buried in the human's neck.

"Spock," McCoy whispered after a few moments of lying together in the warm glow of their recent climax. "You're crushing me."

Spock propped himself up on his elbows and looked down at his lover. He bent his neck to brush his lips over the doctor's. "My apologies," he murmured, gently pulled out and rolled onto his back.

McCoy reached for the towel Spock meticulously kept under the pillow. "That was nice, Spock." He felt rather lame saying it but needed to say something.

Spock nodded and took the towel from him. "Yes. It's been a difficult time for me, Leonard. I have been neglecting you. I hope it will be different from now on."

McCoy nodded. "Yes. For as long as we have left."

Spock rolled onto his side and looked at the human. "What do you mean?"

"Spock, this mission is up in less than six months. Haven't you thought about what and where the next assignment is?"

"No. Have you?"

"Yes. I'm assigned to the Institute at Star Fleet headquarters for at least a year to write up and present my research."

Spock was silent.

"What are your plans, Spock?"

"I imagine they will be like yours - wherever Star Fleet assigns me."

"I requested this."

Spock lowered his eyes. "You have made plans without consulting me."

"Yes. I wasn't aware I needed to consult you." McCoy was testy in his surprise.

"Don't you wish to stay with me, Leonard?"

"Well, yes, if it's in our best interests, Spock, yes, I do." McCoy reached out to stroke Spock's shoulder. "But you can't deny that the Institute is the best possible place for me after this mission. As a scientist, I think it must be for you as well."

"I had thought there would be another five year mission," Spock said. "With you and Jim."

"He says there's nothing like that in the works." McCoy paused to see if Spock had anything to say to that. "I imagine you'll go to Vulcan before your next assignment," he said leadingly into the silence.

"Yes." Spock rolled over and went to sleep. McCoy recognized this as one of Spock's methods for closing a conversation he was no longer interested in.

'Well, I guess I'll go sleep at home tonight,' the doctor thought as he dressed and left Spock's quarters. He wondered, as he undressed and got into his own bed, if Spock really intended to break the bond with Jim. He was, however, too relaxed and happy to nag Spock about it tonight. Maybe tomorrow if he had time.

The next morning they learned that a truce was declared in the Klingon-Romulan war for the duration of the trial of Master Ghet.

* * *

Maja's trial was to be broadcast galaxy-wide. To the surprise of the Church, Maja was to be tried for sabotage. He was accused of kidnapping Maja I and thereby destroying the combined Klingon and Romulan Empire. There was no proof; proof was a mere bagatelle in this show trial. The Yhet's plans for galactic domination were up in smoke and they wanted somebody to pay for it. That person happened to be Maja Talljet.

The seven Hierophants were horrified. They had hoped to find a way to convince the Yhets to return Master Ghet to their jurisdiction where they could shut him up in a monastery for the rest of his life. They were distressed that a Klingon Master could be destroyed by forces outside the most Holy Klingon Church. They rightly saw it as a slippery slope. Even the Supreme Religious Leader expressed some concern about this turn of events.

The trial was to be held in the Imperial assembly hall, which held three thousand and was in the center of the capital city. Maja had spent the previous evening healing his body so that he not only looked good, he felt good, when he was led in chains to the raised central platform. The Hierophants, Meta-Primates and various priests were seated on a raised platform along one wall. The heads of the various powerful clans were seated opposite them. General KmordriYhet was among them. He had been in disgrace for losing the Klong-Rom emperor but was now obviously forgiven. Below Maja a throng of Klingons milled around him, staring silently, hurling abuse at him or arguing loudly amongst themselves. The doors of the hall were open and a crowd stretched away from them on all sides. It was as if the entire city had come to a halt for this one event. In many ways it had. Maja could see the execution stand in the distance - a stake with faggots piled around it. The arguing became louder and the occasional phrase was raised above the din.

"....HAS STRUCK DOWN THE CULMINATION OF CENTURIES OF KLINGON ROMULAN ASSOCIATION ...."

".... DESTROYER OF THE FUTURE...."

"....THIEF...."

"....SABOTEUR...."

'This is my trial.' Maja thought coolly, wondering when the crowd was going to tear him to pieces. 'Perhaps Gvo and Yrit are right. This bag of blood and shit we live in isn't that important. Perhaps this is the day to let go of it.' He looked down into Kzost's sad eyes. He saw a nervous Khatanya a little behind him and to the left. 'Except for all the love in this plane that makes me want to stay. Oh well. Dearest god, please help me now. Please don't let this be the last of me.' He hadn't prayed like that since he was a child but it felt right.

".....HERETIC....."

Maja could feel the ugliness in the crowd building. He drew a breath and sent his gentle voice over the din: "Klingons...."

"DON'T LISTEN TO HIM!"

"Klingons...."

"...NOTHING BUT LIES...."

"Klingons...."

"SILENCE! LET HIM SPEAK."

"Klingons."

The crowd quieted.

"I and my fate are before you. I have no fear of you. I believe you will act as your Klingon honor directs you. I accept all this as the mind of god's unknowable plan for me in this life and its conclusion.

"I do not claim to know the will of the mind of god. I merely hope to interpret what is revealed to me.

"We cannot argue with the reality before us. The combined empire has failed. We must accept that what does not succeed in this life was never meant to be in the first place. We may fight god, we have that ability, but we can never win. Ultimately, we all realize that nothing in this reality occurs without the consent of the universe. No, we do not, we cannot understand it now, perhaps never, but we are in it and we must be at peace with it or perish."

"....LIAR...."

"....PROPHET...."

".....HELLHOUND...."

".....SAINT....."

"Klingons."

The crowd quieted.

"What has changed? Nothing. The natural order has been restored. Klingons were never meant to align themselves in this manner with the Roms. It is unnatural for you to share power with such creatures. See how quickly they have turned on you? And why? Because the Emperor had vanished? No! Because they cannot accept that Klingons are their rightful masters. They would not and will not accept the Klingon Emperor as the sole ruler of both Empires. And why not? Because they seek to dominate the entire galaxy, including KLINGON."

Maja let the crowd get worked up about this. He glanced down and saw Kzost suppressing a smile.

"Why else was the Emperor of the combined Klong-Rom Empire seated on Romulus if not to destroy Klingonia?"

".....LIAR...."

"Could there therefore be a better outcome than for the combined empire to fail? Return to the void, as it should?"

".....PROPHET....."

"Is this therefore not the will of the infinite mind of god? Is this not that mind and will protecting the great and glorious Klingon Empire?" Maja noticed KmordriYhet speaking intently to his escort.

"......HAIL MASTER GHET....."

"That god's mercy, protection and power surrounds the Klingon Empire as is only RIGHT AND CORRECT IN THIS INFINITE CREATION...."

"......HAIL GOZINE THE CONFESSOR...."

"HAS NOT THE TRUE BALANCE OF THE UNIVERSE BEEN RESTORED?" Maja roared over the now supportive din.

".....SAINT GOZINE...."

"..... SAINT GOZINE HAS RETURNED TO SAVE US ....."

Everyone was on their feet, arguing, shouting, someone started singing a hymn to St. Gozine that was picked up by the throng outside.

Maja was grabbed from behind by strong arms. He looked over his shoulder and saw the Yhets' crest on the doublets. He jerked away and flung himself into the crowd, which, singing their new anthem, bore him out of the assembly hall on their shoulders. He looked around him and saw Kzost, Khatanya, most of the Haats, all of the Hierophants and Meta-primates dancing and singing in the throng bearing him away. Maja could hardly hear for the roar and the song that accompanied his procession to the cathedral, where he was worshipped as a reincarnation of St. Gozine who restored St. General KhanitIzd to life after he was felled by a barbarian arrow so he could repel the invading barbarian tribes and thus save Klingon civilization.

Were these not very similar circumstances?

Hallelujah and Amen.

* * *

"St. Gozine. I knew when I gave you that name something good would come of it." Kzost murmured into Maja's hair. The old Klingon had not let go of his little half Mage since said half Mage had been excused from being worshipped.

"Really? Wasn't there a sociopath who murdered his entire neighborhood and burned acres of crops once named Gozine?"

"Well, yes..."

"What's in a name, Klingon? Nothing." Maja sighed. "I was lucky. I was very lucky."

"Maja, I could do nothing ..."

"But you were going to try, weren't you? At least kill me before they burned me if you and Khatanya couldn't get me away."

"How d'ya know that, half Mage?"

"I could see it in your eyes, Klingon." Maja snuggled against him. "Now. Who d'you fancy for Emperor?"

* * *

Through the good efforts of St. Gozine and the grace of god, a new Emperor, one more agreeable to both Haats and Yhets, was found and was confessed by St. Gozine himself directly after the coronation.

Immediately after which Maja and Ling Talljet hightailed it to the Erteg system in what was left of the Tossarian Autonomous zone to see if anything could be salvaged there.

The Hierophant Kroldt, Generals KmordriYhet and KnvraHaat negotiated an acceptable peace with the Romulan empire, which was now ruled by the Emperor Adrajesi.

Except for Maja's torturers, whom Maja ordered rounded up and slowly burned alive from the feet upwards in his presence, life returned to normal in both empires. More or less.

part 50

"Well done, Maja!" Was all SaBrzia had to say when the events of St. Gozine's trial were relayed to him.

"Indeed," SiJidi agreed. "I wonder if he will come here to collect the Commune? I understand that now they've been restored to their former position in the Empire, they can return there."

"I rather hope they finish refurbishing the house before they go." SaBrzia referred to the Commune's latest project: restoring the decrepit Sa mansion to its former glory.

Qhoshi had settled her charges as best she could. Jir's theater company was in a large house where they could make lots of noise and not annoy very many Vulcans. Hobie's shipbuilders were in a huge warehouse complex belonging to Talljet Inc. in the Port of Vulcan. Armed with a letter from Ling in hand, Qhoshi had gone to the Sa mansion and been completely stumped as to how to get inside. The front door of the mansion had been overgrown with thorny vines for as long as most Vulcans could remember. Everyone used the back gate and kitchen door to enter and exit, but one had to know this. Qhoshi, who'd never been on Vulcan in her life, of course didn't know this and so stood puzzling in the street for some time before an upper storey window opened.

"Are you lost, woman?" an elderly Vulcan man asked her.

"No, sir, I want to come in. I work for Ling Talljet. He sent me." Qhoshi scanned him but only got her scan bounced back off his shields.

Another window opened and another elderly Vulcan looked out at her.

"I say, aren't you Qhoshi? One of Ling's 'girls'?" The Vulcan studied her. "You vid-called here one day for him and I answered. Do you remember."

Qhoshi didn't but said she did: "Yes! Of course. But I've forgotten your name. My shocking memory."

"Oh, not so shocking since we were never introduced." The Vulcan leaned out the window and gestured to the door set inconspicuously in the wall. "Go in there and come round through the garden. We'll let you in."

Qhoshi heaved a small sigh of relief and stepped through the gate into an overgrown jungle. The Sas kept a narrow path to the back door cleared but the rest was impassable. Few beings were old enough to remember when it had been a very lovely garden.

Qhoshi followed the path around the side of the house and looked through a window into a deserted kitchen. She stood uncertainly by the door, waiting, as good manners dictated, to be asked in. She waited. She waited some more.

"Hello...?" the Yzreinaina called. No answer. Putting aside her manners she pushed the door open and stepped inside. No one in the kitchen. Feeling like a sneak thief, she crossed it and peeked into the next room. It was empty. Not quite empty; in the shadows of an alcove, Qhoshi could see another elderly Vulcan dozing by what must be, based on its position, the overgrown front door. Qhoshi, feeling nervous, an extremely unusual state for her, stepped into the room and looked around.

It was a good sized room. Stone floors and walls, a dark room where the outside light seemed to give up on it only a few feet from the windows, also overgrown with thorny vines. There were some lamps lit even though it was a typical blinding Shirkar midday. The furniture was an overstuffed variety and was scattered around the room in a nonsensical maze. Since it was impossible to cross in a straight line, Qhoshi found herself tripping over cushions, readers, musical instruments, plates, cups and bunched up rugs as she wended her way to the dozing old male.

'I feel I've entered another reality or something,' she thought. "Excuse me, sir," she said briskly.

"AHHHHHH!" The elderly Vulcan leapt to his feet.

Qhoshi, startled, tripped over a snarled up rug and landed on her back where she lay, looking up at the old man.

"Who are you?" he demanded, looming over her.

"I'm Qhoshi. I work for Ling, Ling Talljet...."

"Yes, yes yes. I know Ling - know him well." He looked up at the other old man who joined him.

"Who is this girl?"

"Says she's Qhoshi."

"Oh." And he stepped around her and walked away.

"I....." Qhoshi began.

"What goes on down here? I thought I heard a female." Another elderly Vulcan joined them.

"Yes, I too, thought I heard a female. Speaking Standard with a non Federation accent." A third male joined the group standing over Qhoshi.

"Sriri, I refuse to believe you can recognize every accent in the Federation."

"I can; I'll prove it. Girl, where are you from?"

"Yzreinaia."

"Is it in the Federation?"

"No."

"There!"

"Chance, that's all. There are more planets outside the Federation than in it."

"Nonsense."

"Excuse me, but...."

"What other languages do you speak, woman?"

"Ahm, Klingonese...."

"Good, very good."

"Deltan...."

"Lovely language."

"Rather useless, I think. Yes, what else?"

"Yzreinian...."

"A Rom based dialect."

"No, it's not," Qhoshi defended her mother tongue. "Cmovian..."

"What is that?"

"It's hard to describe...."

"Try."

"It's a telepathic language. More based on a rhythmic sequence drone sound than the psycho associations of word symbols."

"Fascinating."

"Remarkable."

"Is it similar to the Magidrian Patois?"

"No, it is not."

There was a silence as the old men waited for the supine woman to do what Patois speakers simply don't do: reveal something about the language to non Patois speakers.

"I see. Therefore you must speak the Patois if you can compare it to Cmovian. Correct?"

"Yes." Qhoshi had by this time decided to lie there as long a necessary.

"Any other languages?"

"Ocacatarian..."

"Unusual."

"... and a few dialects as well as a Rom Creole they speak out Xochian way."

"Is that all?"

"It's all I've ever needed."

"Then you've come to the right place."

"For what, sir?"

"To study the languages you lack."

"But I haven't come to study..."

"No? Why then are you here?"

Qhoshi drew a patient breath: "I work for Ling Talljet..."

"Oh? Are you one of his 'girls'?"

"Yes, and ....."

"We've never had one of those here before."

"I see, and...."

"Someone should let SaBrzia know one of Ling's 'girls' is here." No one, however, moved.

"That's whom I need to see..."

"SaBrzia? Why ever?"

"Ling sent me to...."

"Why is this lady lying on our floor, cousins?" asked a fourth elderly Vulcan just arriving on the scene.

"I found her this way."

"She tripped."

"Oh, there you are Qhoshi!" The Vulcan that had directed her to the garden door joined them. "Sorry to keep you waiting. I just wanted to finish the chapter before I came down. You know how an unfinished chapter haunts you. Well! Would you like to stand?" He offered her a hand up.

"Yes, thanks," she said, rising. "Look, Mr.... ah ...sir... I..."

"Please call me SaCriz."

"Mr. SaCriz...."

"No, no. Just SaCriz."

"Sir, I have come ...."

"And this is Sriri, SoLri, SerNera, and our doorkeeper, Svurek."

"Very nice to meet you all." Qhoshi waited politely to see if she would now be allowed to finish her message. "Ling sent me to ask if the Gozshedrefreingin Commune and his 'house' could stay here until things quiet down in non-aligned space and we can go home again?" came out in a rush.

"Hmmm." SaCriz studied her for a moment. "Wait here while I ask SaBrzia." He disappeared up a wide, cluttered staircase.

"If the Gozshedrefreingin Commune comes here, will Maja come home?" Sriri asked her.

"I'm sorry, I don't know what Mr. Talljet's plans are at this time." Qhoshi didn't want to discuss the Talljet's losing battles with their former territories. "I'm only responsible for settling the Talljet dependents in safety."

"How many in the Commune?" SoLri asked.

"Thirty-six."

"That's a lot," Svurek said, looking around the cramped room.

"We'll have to move a few things around," SerNera said, also eyeing the room.

"Not if they clean out the back of the house, no, not really." Sriri opined. "We've plenty of room here, we just haven't been in it for over a hundred Standard years."

"Why not?" Qhoshi asked.

"There are only nine of us left, ten if you count the SaBrzia. We don't need and can't maintain the entire house." He waved vaguely toward the debris strewn staircase.

Qhoshi took another look around her. In her initial consternation, she'd not really noticed much about the house. From the outside, it seemed to end in the vine covered hill behind it. Hard to tell from the overgrown garden. Looking around her, Qhoshi now realized the house was the hill and as she recalled, it was a very very big hill. She had also noticed that, unlike most houses in Shirkar, which were crammed together and shared garden walls, this one was on the outskirts of the center in a quasi industrial area with many decaying and abandoned buildings scattered in open fields. This seemed an odd thing for a city like Shirkar but Qhoshi could not know that the fashionable part of the city had migrated east a thousand years previously to intentionally leave the old families stranded in the west. What Qhoshi mistook for abandoned industrial buildings were actually the decaying fortress mansions of the Ser, Si, Su and So families, which, like the Sas, were left to the older generation to ramble in while the younger members made their way in modern Vulcan. Oddly, even the younger members migrated back to the old homes when they reached a certain age, as if drawn by history. Legend had it that the original cave and spring was beneath each house, that was how long the old families had held their turf. And since the advent of the Surakian dictatorship after the war of logical aggression, it was all the turf they had left.

But Qhoshi didn't know this and wouldn't know it until Ling told her much later.

She turned to see SaCriz coming down the stairs toward her, his face unreadable.

"He said yes."

* * *

'Oh, my Maja!' Sarek had thought, steepling his fingers over his chest in satisfaction. 'How well you know your Klingons.'

On his way home, Sarek was served a subpoena to appear in the Shirkar Federation Court #3 in the trial of Hobie Talljet. He was to be a witness for the defense.

* * *

Qhoshi had indeed settled the Gozshedrefreingin Commune, Hobie's children, Jir's children and her own colleagues into the old Sa mansion. Masters Whilla, Pzchaz and Khat immediately put the Commune to work clearing and cleaning the back part of the house. To alleviate their boredom, Qhoshi's colleagues helped out. Farro, who loved to garden, was put in charge of a band of vulcanoids to clean up the garden. It was Farro's kind of project - monumental and nearly hopeless.

Getting Malira on the planet had been more interesting. Ultimately they settled on making her a Nzrealian banker seeking development funding for infrastructure in the Tasilinian Association, a newer member of the Federation, for a consortium of unspecified business people. Malira played her part by keeping her mouth shut and everything seemed to be working out fairly well. She'd even gone brunette to be less conspicuous.

None of the Vulcans recognized Lady Amanda among the Commune. The old men were not interested in society and would not have known who the Lady Amanda was had not T'Pau arrived one day to speak to her.

"T'Pau! You're here, what a surprise. How'd you get in here?" SiRond went on at her. They had known each other in their youth.

"The kitchen garden, as usual." T'Pau dispensed with the traditional Vulcan greeting as the old families did not use it. They avoided anything developed by the followers of Surak or his descendants. They avoided his descendants unless they could not avoid them, like now. T'Pau knew this and tried to make her entry as gentle as possible. "I've come to speak to Lady Amanda."

"And who is she?"

T'Pau thought about this. Technically Lady Amanda was no longer part of the clan T'Pau but the old woman was not ready to forget her. "I understand she is with the Gozshedrefreingin Commune."

"Oh. They're all in the back, T'Pau. Can you find your way back there?"

"Back where, SiRond?"

"In or near the ballroom."

"Yes. I remember the way." She nodded to the old man and turned to go.

"Don't trip on anything, T'Pau." SiRond warned vaguely.

"I shall endeavor not to, SiRond."

T'Pau progressed her way into the house and met Amanda, brushing the dust out of some draperies, in one of the parlors half way to the back entrance of the ballroom. The front entrance had been impassable for longer than Sarek had been alive.

"Live long and prosper, Amanda."

"Peace and long life, T'Pau." Amanda waited for the older woman to open the conversation as was the custom in clan T'Pau.

"Are you well?"

"Yes. Will you sit down? I'll bring some tea." Amanda brushed off her hands and went in search of clean cups and fresh tea.

T'Pau looked around her. She hadn't been in this house since she was a little girl and her great-grandfather had come here to visit SaKoza the Beautiful. Ostensibly, T'Pau's great-grandfather visited SaKoza, who was fluent in old Vulcan, to learn that language from him. The reality was a little more complex. Except for now, with the Talljet money, and a small bump of prosperity a thousand years after the civil war, when they had sold the water rights and western end of Shirkar to the city, the Sa fortunes had been in decline. It was therefore the Sa's practice to more or less sell whatever talent and beauty their children possessed to the highest bidder. This was, in fact, a very subtle arrangement. For example, T'Pau's great-grandfather was once informed that SaKoza would be too busy to see him because he was at work on a translation that would be sold to pay off a lien on the country estate. This lien was immediately paid by T'Pau's great-grandfather and his thrice weekly visits to SaKoza resumed. Various wealthy clans had paid for the education of entire Sa generations. And so on. Usually the level of generosity extended to clothing, furniture, tasteful jewels and paying off the various accumulated debts the ancient threadbare clan ran up. SaKoza was hardly exploited. He'd been raised to respect his intelligence first and then his beauty and to make good use of both. T'Pau's great-grandfather had been raised to respect intelligence and beauty and further, to support it in all ways if necessary. Besides, what else was money for if not to propagate such worthy causes? It was unfortunate that he was the last of the House of Surak to act on these lofty ideals. The younger members, most notably T'Pau's aunt when she became matriarch, had a more hardheaded and practical approach to the arts and finance. Therefore the contact between the clans was discouraged after T'Pau's great-grandfather died. SaKoza taught the ancient language to a generation of Vulcans and later went off to study the pre-conquest architecture of the Ossipira tribe in the Porglosta system. Many years later T'Pau heard that he died peacefully in his sleep there. She remembered seeing a portrait of SaKoza somewhere in the house and wondered if it was still here. She would have liked to compare Hobie to the portrait of SaKoza. If memory served her, SaKoza was the greater beauty, but she had been a child last time she'd seen SaKoza and some of her ideas had changed since then.

"I was told you were here." Smvit broke into the old woman's reverie. "It's been a long time, T'Pau."

"Indeed, Smvit." She looked at her old playmate. They had run up and down these halls while her great-grandfather had his Old Vulcan lesson. "Are you well?"

"Yes, quite. You?"

"Yes."

"What brings you to us again?"

"The Lady Amanda."

"Who?"

"A member of my family."

"Oh. What's she doing here? Officially, we avoid your family because of Spock's mistreatment of Maja. Unofficially, if Maja was stupid enough to become entangled with a creature like Spock, he got whatever suffering he deserved and it's nothing to do with any of us."

T'Pau sighed in her mind. Nothing was ever simple, straightforward or black and white with the old families, especially the Sas. She briefly considered not telling Smvit that Amanda was Spock's mother but decided that it would be worse if he found out another way.

"In that case she should slap your face, old woman."

"Why, old man?"

"For trying to kill her son."

"'A creature like Spock'? I thought you held him in low esteem."

"I do, both he and Maja were, I assume still are, idiots. However, we Vulcans gave up the concept of living sacrifice to abstract concepts long before that parvenu Surak rolled into our midst."

"Clarify."

"Gladly. You were willing to let Spock die or let him kill that stupid Terran and then die merely to uphold the barbaric bonding practice you nouveau families enjoy so much."

"The bonding is a necessary part of the Surakian code."

"If you follow fads, yes."

"A FAD?"

"Yes, T'Pau, old girl, a fad. Your bonding, your truncated names, your cult of logic, your high council, your streamlined language, your obsession with sex, and your gauche little houses all shoved together in the west are a fad. It's impossible to take you new Vulcans seriously since StiSurak lopped the Sti off his name and destroyed his ancient clan. You can't just cut the past off like that. It's unnatural." Smvit folded his hands serenely.

This was an old argument and one T'Pau had with every member of the old families whenever she found herself trapped with them. There was only one way out - it was brutal, effective and necessary: "You old families do realize that you, in fact, lost the Vulcan civil war, do you not?"

"That, of course, was the official outcome. However, considering the quality of life we old families continue to enjoy, I would not be so sure we were entirely the losers of that conflict."

T'Pau looked carefully around the decaying room: "Indeed," she said coldly.

"I've brought the tea," Amanda, who'd never heard T'Pau speak to anyone like that in her life, said nervously from the door.

"So you have, girl," Smvit said pleasantly, taking the tray from her and setting it on the table. "I didn't know you were Spock's mama," he said waving the women to chairs and pouring for them.

"Oh, yes. You remember him here?"

"Oh, yes. Vividly."

T'Pau arched an eyebrow but remained silent.

"I understand Jir and Hobie will be arriving in a few days," she said to Amanda after a few sips of tea. "Storen, Jir's law partner, has served the Vulcan Interplanetary Ministry with a subpoena for classified documents regarding Sarek's negotiations in the Miska system. Apparently Jir intends to base part of his defense on the idea that Hobie was acting as Sarek's spy in non-aligned space."

"Is that impossible, T'Pau?" Smvit asked.

"No. But I find it distasteful and incredible that Sarek could require such actions as those of which Hobie is suspected. It will also be very difficult for the Vulcan Interplanetary Ministry to prove that it was not running Hobie as a spy through Sarek."

"Yes, indeed," Smvit said serenely. "Storen himself was here yesterday to warn us that there might be some unpleasantness brought up in the trial but he did not tell us what. How interesting that you should fill us in."

"I merely wish to inform Amanda of the possibility of, as you say, unpleasantness." T'Pau blandly informed him. "Not only for Sarek but also for Spock."

"How for Spock?" Amanda asked.

"The defense will try to prove that Hobie, accompanied by Maja, left Vulcan to spy for Sarek. The prosecution, however, will try to prove that Maja, accompanied by Hobie, left Vulcan because of Spock, thus disproving the spy defense. I do not know what measures will be taken to ascertain the latter case."

"I had hoped all the uproar about that was over and done with," Amanda said grimly. "I suppose it will all be dragged out again. Poor Maja."

"Yes, poor Maja," Smvit commiserated. "It must be dreadful to be the most powerful being in the Klingon Empire and have your youthful indiscretions blasted all over the Federation. Especially if they were as ridiculous as forming an intense but misguided attachment to Spock cha'Sarek."

"Yes, misguided." Amanda decided to ignore most of the insult to her son. "Poor Maja could certainly have benefited from closer supervision than he received in his youth."

"Yes, poor Maja," Smvit said coolly. "Bad luck he wound up in the same class as Spock."

"I understood poor Maja to be the aggressor in that relationship." Amanda mentally bared her teeth at him.

"And I understood that, yes, poor Maja pursued, however, Spock did not flee very quickly or efficiently." Smvit cursed mentally to find himself defending that idiotic Maja Talljet.

"But can you really blame Spock?" SuLorma, Maja's old art teacher, stood in the doorway. "After all, Maja is so talented and still has those big brown eyes and that lovely voice. Did you see the vid of his trial? A strange but well organized argument he presented to the Klingons, and convincingly, too. He was magnificent."

"Indeed he was, SuLorma." T'Pau, rose in the pause SuLorma's timely distraction afforded her. "I will leave you now. Do not fail to call on me for anything, Amanda." She turned to Smvit and raised her split fingers: "Live long and prosper, Smvit of Vulcan."

"Good-bye, T'Pau," he snapped. "You do know your way out, don't you? If not, it's this way." He strode from the room ahead of her, robes flying.

SuLorma and Amanda exchanged glances and then introduced themselves.

"I've come to meet the Commune and offer them any assistance I can." SuLorma said.

"They will be grateful," Amanda told him. "The painters are trying to understand the media of the murals in the ballroom so they can restore them. Perhaps you know; come, I'll show you."

"It will depend on the age of the work," SuLorma intoned as Amanda led him to the Gozshedrefreingin Commune, hard at work in the Sa mansion.

part 51

"This is a complete waste of time and probably suicidal," Maja harumphed at Ling from the bridge of the Tien. "I say we call it a day and get the fuck out of here for a while." They were waist deep in conflict in the Ertig system.

"I think you're overreacting, Maja." Ling was ever the optimist. Also, his ship, the Zoltir, had suffered less in the recent skirmish. "We just have to be more careful about the kind of ambushes we sail into. You know, expect the unexpected more somehow."

Maja and Neria-Tza exchanged looks. They had certainly not expected to be bushwhacked by Lashodrian pirates.

"Look, Ling, here's my thinking and I think Hobie would agree with me." Maja shot Qwuushi a hopeful look. "Let's leave, because when we do, these various groups united against us will fall into chaos, fight among themselves and, when they are exhausted, we can swoop back in and crush them like bugs."

Ling thought about this for a moment. "Well, all right. If you really think Hobie would approve."

"HE'LL LOVE IT. LET'S GO."

/I love it. Go. Go now./

"To Vulcan."

"Aye, Noli, to Vulcan."

* * *

"Lady T'Pnov, Sjrika and Lord Suqiet," Storen said, seated in Jir's Talljet and Storen office in downtown Shirkar. He looked over his tea cup at his law partner sprawled before him. "Were the best we could do as far as judges."

"Who'd their ancestors fight with in the War of Logical Aggression?" Jir, lounging in a loin cloth (his usual office attire), asked from his bed. He was the only attorney in Shirkar, possibly Vulcan, who conducted his legal practice from a huge, ornate, canopy bed behind his huge, cluttered, height-adjustable, hydraulic antique desk. Jir claimed his office was purely functional, that when he was working on a big case he didn't always have time to go home and sleep there. No one argued this. In fact, having seen his elder brother installed in the maximum security cell block of the Shirkar jailhouse, Jir had not gone home, but come straight to his office to confer with Storen.

"Surak, of course. They wouldn't be in the dominant social group if not." Storen's ancestors had fought with Surak but he knew a winner when he saw one and long ago hitched his wagon to Jir's star. A wise choice: everyone connected with the Talljets got rich and powerful. Storen was no exception. "A rather strange question, Jir, why do you ask it?"

"I'm trying to reacclimatize to Vulcan society," Jir said vaguely. "I've been on holiday fighting wars and arguing with Hobie over his defense. He should have gone to law school, not I. But now, I've got to drop the comedy and get serious since I'm back in the jungle of Shirkar."

"An excellent idea, Jir. You must realize this is not going to be simple."

"No doubt. Who's against us?"

Storen consulted his yellow data padd, more for form than to jog his immense memory. "Robert Lapham, Lise Charbon and Nicholas Sarfati. All Terrans, all hold Terra licenses. Like you, none have ever set foot in a Vulcan courtroom."

"FMOJ (Federation Ministry of Justice) is going to prosecute a major trial in a Vulcan court without a Vulcan on the team? Are they mad?"

"These are also all Star Fleet attorneys. Commander Lapham, Commander Charbon and Lieutenant Sarfati graduated from the Star Fleet officer course with honors after they completed their legal training."

"And Star Fleet in the middle of this, too."

"What do you mean?"

"Oh, just that StaFlet has got it in for us poor Talljets these days."

"Jir, let's remember that Hobie is still a Federation citizen, accused of piracy under Federation law. Star Fleet's interest might simply be that Star Fleet is the best agency to evaluate and prosecute crimes in deep space."

"Yessss. All right. No way around them anyway; they are still Federation attorneys on a Federation case. Oh well." Jir made a few notes on his yellow data padd. "I think I met Lapham once at the Nboria 12 war crimes trials. He's really smart but not terribly attractive. Did the firm find anything interesting about him?"

"He's fifty standard years. His wife is an electron wave engineer, they have three children in college. No obvious legal or financial scandals. Mother and father are dead, his father was a Terra based Star Fleet administrator for his entire career - nothing outstandingly good or bad there."

Jir hit the comm line on his bed: "Sobora, dig up the most recent pleadings, briefs or whatnot submitted to Federation courts by Robert Lapham. Particularly those with any connection to space law, piracy and/or civil rights. Don't go back more than two years. Thanks." He lay back: "And Commander Charbon?"

"Can trace her family for a thousand years. There has been at least one Charbon in the military and judicial fields since then. Commander Charbon is also fifty, and as experienced as Lapham. Apparently she and Lapham flipped a coin to determine who would be the lead attorney in the group."

"Gamblers," Jir said approvingly.

"Charbon's specialty is prosecuting crimes in space - not piracy, more along commercial espionage and sabotage." Storen waited for Jir to comment and continued when he did not. "She is married to a criminal psychologist, they have three children in secondary school. Her father was philologist at the European Institute, her mother, who lives with her, is an architect. No obvious legal or financial scandals in the family over the past fifty years that we could find. Charbon writes books about Federation commercial law and social justice. I've put one in your mail, I think you will find it fascinating."

"How so?"

"She believes in the equitable distribution of property, including state resources such as education and housing within the Federation."

"The Federation seems fairly well distributed to me, Storen. What's her problem?"

"She feels power in the Federation is being passed from hand to hand instead of reflecting the will of the peoples."

"Well, that's interesting. I look forward to reading her book. Odd she's in Star Fleet where power really is passed from hand to hand."

"She wants some power, that's where to get it on Terra these days."

"True. And Lieutenant Sarfati? What is he? The gofer?"

"Lieutenant Sarfati was on active duty for eight years on the border of non-aligned space. Star Fleet has recalled him to work specifically on Hobie's prosecution. He prosecuted piracy cases on the Federation's outpost on Vririsia. He secured the conviction of Captain Havra."

"Oh shit." Even Jir had been impressed that someone had finally put Havra the Pirate away but hadn't been interested in who it was at the time. He was busy with the Molgifinchian Emperor. Jir leaned into his intercom: "Sobora, please get me any and every court document that has ever had the name Nicholas Sarfati on it. Thanks." Jir watched Storen drink tea for a few moments. "Okay, back to the judges: tell me about the female first: Lady T'Pnov."

Storen consulted his yellow data padd again. "Born and raised in Sakchritar, went to law school at the Sakchritar Institute of Jurisprudence, holds an additional doctorate in Federation history, wrote her dissertation on Terran legal history prior to their Eugenics wars..."

"Terranophile?"

"Hardly. Her dissertation was on the development of a civil society without across the board civil rights. Extremely interesting study of Terran irrationality, especially paranoia and xenophobia."

"Does the other side know that?"

"I think not. But it does not matter. T'Pnov has a good history of deciding cases solely on the evidence or lack of it."

"Well, of course; she's a Vulcan. And Sjrika?"

"Graduated first in his class from our law school a hundred years before we were born. Grew up here in Shirkar. Has usually sat on criminal trials of offworlders. Has been somewhat lenient with those who violated Vulcan or Federation law through ignorance. Has been fierce with those who do so knowingly. Knows nothing of pirates and cares less. He said that a Federation citizen is responsible for his actions under the laws of the Federation no matter what their profession."

Jir laughed. "That could go with us or against us. And old Lord Suqiet? I haven't seen him in years."

"He is the same, Jir."

"Still meaner than a snake?" Jir interrupted.

"As I said, he is the same. His last trial was on Nasria 6 for the USS Odessa mutiny."

"A not guilty verdict. The captain was proved incapacitated and the crew was not held responsible for the actions of the first mate and his accomplices. I remember; bravo the defense. Well done." Jir looked at his partner. "You did stridently object to this Judge, didn't you?"

"Of course. He taught us at the Legal Institute. He fought you every step of the way to having your and your brother's dangerous alien restrictions lessened. He is not a friend of the old families. It was to no avail. He is the most qualified of the three to judge what is or is not a crime in deep space."

"True. Let us hope he will be a very Vulcan judge and continue to decide his cases solely on the evidence or lack of it."

"Hobie is arraigned tomorrow morning. If we have nothing further to discuss, I will see you then."

"No, nothing further. I'll just lie here and read for a while." He looked down at his viewer log, filling with the documents the swift and efficient Sobora had called up.

"Will you not stop to see the Sas?"

"Not just yet. I'm trying to conserve my strength. By the way, are the Terrans still asking for a capital trial?"

"Yes."

"Interesting." Jir stretched invitingly. "Until tomorrow, Storen?"

"Until tomorrow, Jir." Ignoring the invitation, Storen rose, bowed and left.

* * *

"I shall miss you, Spock." Kirk, in his quarters, moved his remaining bishop. "Check."

Spock nodded and moved out of check. Not for long, Kirk was in good form that evening and had him in three more moves.

Spock had been ordered by Admiral Jessup to take an extended leave and go to Vulcan to keep an eye on the Talljets. Admiral Jessup had learned that Maja and Ling were bound for Vulcan from T'Pau, who heard it from Amanda, who'd heard it from the Commune, who'd heard it from Qhoshi, who'd heard it from Ling himself. The admiral had been annoyed that he had to rely on family gossip instead of Star Fleet intelligence to keep track of these scoundrels but there it was and no way around it. In a few hours Spock was to take a shuttlecraft, rendezvous with the USS Tesslia en route to Vulcan and finish the journey with that ship. He would still arrive a week or so after Maja, who would arrive there in eight hours. Spock had already made his farewells to McCoy and now hoped to make the most of these last few hours with Jim.

"Are you staying?" Kirk looked over the chessboard with a come hither hazel glow in his eyes.

"Yes." Spock rose and loomed over his captain. He tilted Kirk's head back and, keeping a firm hold on his chin, lightly brushed his lips over the human's.

Kirk would have liked to rise up and claim the Vulcan's mouth, or at minimum, deepen the kiss, but he was efficiently pinned. He contented himself with running his hands over Spock's chest and belly.

It was enough provocation for the Vulcan. Spock's hand moved from the human's chin to his bicep and pulled him to standing. Wrapping his long arms around his lover, he devoured him.

Kirk slid his fingers beneath the tunic and T-shirt to caress the soft overheated flesh.

Burying his face in Kirk's neck, the Vulcan shuddered with pleasure at the cool fingertips teasing up and down his back. He guided the human to the bed and pulled off the gold shirt and black T. Spock stepped back to neatly fold these garments and Kirk, impatient for more contact, quickly finished undressing and slid into his own bed. Spock looked down at the covers Kirk twitched back invitingly, quickly dispensed with his own clothes and joined the human in bed.

Spock ran his warm hands possessively over Kirk's back and shoulders, pressing his heated body the length of his captain. He pressed his lips to Kirk's neck, licking and caressing, over the round ear, back down to Kirk's shoulder. Kirk moved Spock into a long, tender kiss, running his fingers through the silky onyx hair. Spock's tongue found his, which pressed back, dominating and surrendering; pursued and pursuing.

Kirk let his hand wander down to caress Spock's erection, still impressed by the heat and size of it. He ran his fingers over the head, stroking along the ridges, stroking down and drawing the testicles into his hand, weighing them, squeezing gently. Spock sighed and drew back to gaze at Kirk. They regarded each other with naked desire and the anticipation of sensual pleasure.

Spock rolled on his back, pulling Kirk on top of him. Kirk spread his legs on either side of Spock's hips and snuggled his erection into Spock's. He swirled his fingers through the silky chest hair and lower still.

Spock's hands closed on Kirk's ass, gently urging him forward onto his chest. He leaned forward and ran his tongue around the head of Kirk's cock, sliding it up and down, farther into his mouth. Kirk closed his eyes in pure pleasure and gave himself over to Spock's care. He jumped a bit when Spock's finger brushed against his anus. Spock, undeterred, merely reached under the pillow where the lubricant was usually kept. It was not there.

Kirk leaned over and reached into the beside table. He handed a half full tube to the Vulcan.

Spock swirled his tongue around Kirk's penis while he stroked between Kirk's buttocks, spreading them gently, pressing a gel coated finger ever deeper and closer to the sweet tightness he sought. Sucking Kirk deeper, Spock applied more lubricant and began to work his finger slowly and gently in.

Kirk let his eyes fall shut, marveling at how much he was enjoying Spock's leisurely preparation. Their previous lovemakings had often had a rushed but exciting feel about them. Kirk inhaled sharply as Spock began to stroke his prostate in the same rhythm as the Vulcan's tongue stroked the underside of his cock.

Spock slipped in another well oiled finger, thrusting gently deeper.

Kirk bared his teeth in pleasure as he undulated gently to Spock's rhythm, forward into Spock's mouth, backward onto Spock's fingers.

Spock decided that Kirk was ready. He slowly withdrew his fingers, eased Kirk out of his mouth and onto the bed. He rolled on top of him and kissed the human softly.

"Jim ... I want to be inside you."

"Yes, but slowly, Spock. It's been a while."

"Too long," the Vulcan said in a deep murmur, looking out of dark desire filled eyes.

Spock held Kirk close and urged him onto his stomach, spreading his legs with his knees. Kneeling between the human's legs, Spock liberally applied lubricant to his penis. He braced his hands against Kirk's hips, holding them firmly while stroking reassuringly, and pressed his cock against the entrance to Kirk's body. Spock paused, waiting for the tension and apprehension to leave the human.

"Relax, Jim, let me in."

Spock began to press forward gently. Kirk put his attention on relaxing while pushing his muscles against Spock's forward momentum. Spock softly rocked his hips, a little harder, a little more, a thrust and the slippery head was past the tight ring. He paused there to allow Kirk to adjust. The Vulcan pressed forward again when he felt Kirk gently thrusting up against him.

Spock reached beneath Kirk to caress his cock, gently pulling his captain's hips into a better angle for fucking him.

Feeling that Kirk was getting impatient, Spock slowly but steadily slid all the way in. He stopped to let Kirk get used to the feeling of full penetration. Spock took another moment to compose himself before he was overwhelmed by the snug warmth that held him like a vise.

Kirk was adjusting, soothing himself, impaled, held fast by Spock. He shivered under Spock's hands, filled by him, spread beneath him.

Spock felt Kirk pressing back, urging him to move. He drew back and slid in again. Kirk moved in harmony with his lover. The human groaned with pleasure as Spock's cock stroked his prostate, again and again.

Spock increased his pace, very much in control of himself but demanding his pleasure from Kirk's body. Harder, faster, feeling Kirk's orgasm welling up in him, his muscles clenching about Spock's cock in rapture, feeling his own climax crashing over him.

Spock threw his head back as he silently came. He leaned his forehead between Kirk's shoulders, listening to the panting human beneath him.

Spock roused himself and gently pressed his lips to the nape of Kirk's neck.

They lay joined for a moment longer. Spock gently and slowly withdrew, stopping to wait for Kirk's muscles to free him. He pulled Kirk into his arms, kissed him tenderly and ran his fingers through the golden hair.

Kirk curled sweetly into Spock's arms, murmured softy, "I shall miss you while you're gone," and drifted off to welcome sleep.

Spock held his lover, watched him sleep for a while. Eventually he rose, dressed and departed to his own cabin to bathe and pack for the first part of his journey to his birthplanet.

Part V
WHERE AND HOW EVENTS PROGRESSED TO THEIR CONCLUSION

"Welcome home, Mr. Talljet." The customs officer at the Port of Vulcan, having scanned Maja's wrist and thoroughly searched his meager luggage twice, waved him through.

"Oh," Maja said vaguely. "Thank you." 'Home,' he thought ruefully. 'Home, whatever is that?'

He went directly to the prison to see Hobie. Ling had gone directly to his office to see about some sort of currency emergency in the Sovla system. Finance was an occult science to Maja, so he went off to convey both their greetings their eldest brother.

"How'd it go?" Maja asked, referring to the arraignment.

"Oddly," Hobie grinned. "Jir and I aren't in the courtroom. The Court's afraid we will use our souped-up telepathic abilities to derail the prosecution, influence the judges and generally lower the tone of the judicial proceedings. So. We're holographed in from a room in the prison and the courtroom is holographed in to us." He paused to let Maja's chuckle die away. "Storen and Smig are actually in the courtroom. Just in case somebody needs be handed a whatnot or something."

"Same Mig, or rather Smig, was Jir's secretary and sometimes understudy in his company? I didn't know he was a legal type."

"Apparently he's a little legal predator. Graduated at the top of his Legal Institute class and decided he could do no worse in life than sit at Jir's feet."

"How screwy," Maja observed. "There really is something odd, if not frighteningly odd, about these Vulcans with 'SM' for the first two letters in their names."

"Nonsense Maja, you're imagining things." Hobie smiled. "Anyway, they charged me with four counts of piracy..."

"That's all? I thought the Terrans would accuse you of every pirate act since time began."

"They might like to but apparently they only think they can prove these four. Let's see where was I ... oh, yes; four counts of piracy, two counts of murder and three counts of rape. Oh, and I've got three hundred and six outstanding parking tickets that they've rolled into one big failure to appear and resisting arrest charge."

"Whom did you 'allegedly' murder, Nolo?" Maja asked after a moment of contemplation.

"Gatshira on Fobda and Hypz on Meza 6. They say there are witnesses. I don't remember se ..."

"Of course not! Since you didn't do it what is there to remember?" Maja cut him off, horrified that Hobie was not more careful. "And whom do they 'allege' you raped? How ridiculous!"

"Thomas Albany, Jaroslav Tikel and Dmitri Grushinkev."

"Oh dearest god. Are they really going to drag poor Dmitri through that nightmare again?"

"It is the plan, my dear."

"A cruel and wicked one."

"Aye, Noli." Hobie watched Maja's mind wander to Sarek but said nothing.

"D'you need anything here?" Maja asked to bring the interview to a close.

"No, not at the moment. I'll let you know. Strat brought me a lyre to play. Says we'll have to play some duets when I get out."

"Oh? So there is something to look forward to." Maja smiled happily and rose. "Well, I'm off."

"My love to the Sas when you see them." Hobie smiled back.

Maja lowered his eyes. "Umm. I thought I'd just, ah, fall by and see if Sarek was home first, y'know, to explain what happened on Hzabeda and ... how ... that ..." He glanced up into Hobie's amused eyes. "How that I wasn't running away from him, but from the situation," he finished firmly.

"Listen, Maja, about Sarek. You might hear some things that will upset you and ..."

"Maja!" Jir flew in wearing as little as possible and crushed his little brother to his chest. "Too wonderful. When you get home, have a close look at my brats. I hear they are not adjusting to communal life too well."

"They are a bit spoiled, Jir," Maja informed him.

"LA HA! Perhaps I should ask god for my money back!" Jir gave Maja's shoulders a cautionary shake. "Now get out, I've got lots to discuss with Hobie." He steered Maja to the door.

Maja was able to wave and smile before Jir slammed the door in his face.

PART 52

Jir turned, suddenly all business: "No bail, bro, sorry. Since Maja and Ling pulled in, there are too many of your crews here and everybody is nervous that you'll run for it."

"I'm crushed by the Federation's lack of confidence in me."

"Aye, me too. The good but expected news is that FMOJ..."

"The what?"

"The Federation Ministry of Justice has dropped their ridiculous request for the death penalty if you are convicted."

"Was that ever serious?"

"I think it was a politically correct maneuver on Terra to ask for it. Smoothes down the xenophobes that think you're responsible for everything that's gone wrong everywhere for the past twenty years." Jir opened his battered briefcase and rooted around in it. "So now they've asked for it and the spoil-sport Vulcans have refused it. And on very solid constitutional grounds I might add - really a lovely and irrefutable argument T'Pnov presented, I was all jealous - and those what don't like the decision can blame them awful Vulcans and everybody is happy happy happy."

"But no bail."

"No. I'll keep trying."

"Jir, does Maja know what defense you're planning?"

"I haven't told him but I'm sure he'll hear about it eventually."

"Will you please tell him."

"No time! I'm all over your case like a cheap suit. I've got complete confidence in myself here. Possibly complete confidence squared."

"Oh, yeah? When do you shave your head?"

"Oh, a week or so! Unless I can convince the court that since I'm being holoed in and not actually IN the court but I really doubt they'll buy it. Who cares? Fuck my hair. Anyway. We start the trial in fifteen days. I objected to a longer continuance on the grounds that you were denied bail and the Judges caved in like rotten fruit."

"They what?"

"They denied the longer continuance."

"Ah. Have you been to see the Sas and the children?"

"No."

"JIR."

"Hobie." Jir clenched his fists but his voice was calmly passionate. "When this is over, I'll have, we'll have the rest of our lives to play with the babies and split infinitives with the Sas. This trial is all I'm willing to think about right now and that's just how it is."

Hobie backed off. He'd never seen Jir in super legal mode and hot on the trail of victory. He found the intensity a little hard to take. He then remembered that his future was on the line and decided it was a good thing Jir was on his side.

"All right," Hobie said, quietly. "How do my chances look?"

"They look marvelous, darling, simply marvelous!" And Jir proceeded to tell him in detail.

* * *

"We don't have a case." Sarfati said, pacing in the borrowed offices in the Star Fleet mission in Shirkar. "Or at least, not much of one. And Jir knows that, that's why we're in court in two weeks."

Lapham and Charbon exchanged unhappy glances. It was true they had a rotten case and no time to build a better one.

So far they had heard from their three rape victims that they, in fact, did not consider themselves raped. All three said their experience with Hobie Talljet was a beautiful and treasured memory.

"How did Star Fleet misunderstand that?" Lapham had asked his colleagues.

"Knowing Star Fleet, somebody read the reports that Albany, Tikel and Grushinkev had sex with Talljet on Talljet's ship and leapt to the conclusion that it was forced." Charbon found herself beginning to admire Hobie for the loyalty he obviously and easily inspired.

"Grushinkev was under age... let's see he was what? Fifteen?" Lapham was grasping at straws.

"According to his affidavit, all they did was sleep in the same bed."

"Hm."

"We could proceed on the grounds that Hobie altered their memories of the event." Sarfati offered.

Charbon: "We would need witnesses and we have none."

Lapham: "No but we can put them on the stand anyway and see if the court will decide they were coerced."

Charbon: "Dangerous. I think this would insult the court and I don't know how these Vulcan judges would take it."

Sarfati: "We got very sympathetic judges."

Lapham: "Let's do what we can to keep them sweet. I think we can dispense with Albany's testimony - Talljet rescued him and it probably was a spontaneous thing between them."

Sarfati: "Well, I wouldn't say no."

Charbon: (Laughing)

Lapham: "Nick, let's stay focused. Please."

Sarfati: "All right, all right. So we go with Tikel and Grushinkev and drop down to two counts of rape. What about our murder witnesses?"

Charbon: "For Gatshira, we have two prisoners from the Osta prison being brought in: DveKrit and Lii. They claim they saw Hobie break Gatshira's neck on Fobda, in the Miska system."

Lapham: "What are they in for?"

Charbon: "DveKrit for smuggling and drug trafficking and Lii for murder and racketeering. Apparently they knew Hobie early in their careers."

Lapham: (Nodding.)

Charbon: "For Hypz, we have one witness, Ibri Adniz, willing to trade her testimony for immunity in the matter of the Meza 6 riots. She says she saw Hobie blast Hypz on Meza 6, also in Miska system."

Lapham: "Immunity for what?"

Charbon: "As you know, Hypz was the dictator of Meza 6. His murder, or assassination if you will, set off the riots, which Ibri Adniz might or might not have choreographed for her own benefit. You will recall, she had complete control of the system for several months afterwards, before Star Fleet was able to restore order and bring those planets into the Federation. She pretty much looted as much as she could before we ran her off."

Sarfati: "What wonderful witnesses, Lise."

Charbon: "They are very convincing to listen to."

Sarfati: "I bet they are."

Lapham: "The downside here is that Sarek of Vulcan negotiated the final treaty with the Miska system for the Federation. It's given the Federation an unbeatable position in that quadrant. The Klingons are still livid. Jir intends to argue that Hobie did not kill either of them and was only there at the Vulcan Interplanetary Ministry's request which is, by default, at the Federation's request."

Charbon: "However, the Vulcan Interplanetary Ministry would never send an operative to assassinae anyone. They simply don't operate that way."

Lapham: "As far as we know. Jir will try to prove that Hobie didn't do it, not that he did it on orders from the VIM."

Sarfati: "We have a better case for the four piracy counts. We can place Talljet in or around each incident and we have witnesses and lots of visual evidence. I'll take them in order:

"1. Talljet boarded and took the cargo, Mezian ore, off a transport ship in orbit around Meza 6 during the riots there.

"2. Talljet attacked, boarded and looted an Ithintian private freighter carrying dilithium crystals en route to Yksta 8.

"3. Talljet laid siege to the port of Griza on Frinta and stole the contents of several warehouses there. No records of what he took survive the attack because he leveled the port when he was done. And,

"4. Talljet engaged in a prolonged skirmish with the USS Praga en route to Meza 6 to quell the unrest there. The captain, Captain Nesi, has visual evidence that it was Talljet's ship. I believe Talljet was stalling so he could finish up some business in that system before moving on."

Lapham: "And all four incidents took place in the Miska system."

Charbon and Sarfati nodded at him.

"We have good witnesses and physical evidence," Sarfati said. "All we need is for the judges to agree that Talljet was acting on his own initiative."

"We need the Vulcan Interplanetary Ministry to deny that he was an agent, as well," Lapham said quietly.

"Do you think they will?" Charbon asked.

"I would have bet money on it two weeks ago but they haven't exactly answered either our or Jir's subpoenas," Lapham said quietly.

"How can they not?" Sarfati was scandalized.

"They say they are 'gathering the information'," Lapham told him.

"I hope that doesn't mean destroying it." Charbon was now concerned.

"No, I doubt they'd do that. This is Vulcan after all. But I'm curious as to what they will give us. Some of it they might deem a state secret and then we're all stuck," Lapham said. "I can tell these judges don't like the way this is shaping. It might be easier all the way around simply to toss it out for lack of evidence one way or the other."

"And all the warrants to Talljet would void," Sarfati said. "What a shame."

"Maybe not," Charbon said. "Warrants can always be reissued. Reputations cannot."

"I don't want to see Sarek of Vulcan damaged any more than you do, Lise," Sarfati said defensively. "But this is the first chance we've had to put Talljet away and I'd like to do it."

"Have you something personal against him, Nick?" Lapham asked.

"Only that I've seen the border destabilized again and again by pirates fighting each other over plunder." Sarfati frowned. "It's true, the pirates do open up and develop planets we would not get to for decades but the damage they do is considerable. They loot the natural resources, they take the best and the brightest inhabitants to work for them and have been known to lay waste to their own outposts in wars with other pirates over them. Pirates are rootless marauders and Hobie Talljet is no exception."

"I see," Lapham said. "Well. I have good news for you. We can call Maja Talljet as a witness."

"Good. Then the DNA scan confirms they are not biologically related?" Charbon asked.

"Yes. Maja and Ling are biological siblings. Hobie and Jir are not biologically related to either of them or to each other, for that matter," Lapham told them. "Maja has often been in the vicinity of Hobie and Hobie's activities since they left Vulcan. There was some speculation that Maja might be Hobie but it was dropped so as not to antagonize the Klingons anymore then they already are."

"Why are they in it at all?" Sarfati asked.

"Apparently there was an informal arrangement with Hobie. Hobie opened the planets and the Klingons developed them and held them jointly with Hobie's Tossarian pirates," Lapham said.

"Oh, shocking!" Charbon sang sarcastically.

"And of course the Klingons deny every particle of it," Lapham said. "Vehemently deny it. If we tried to press charges against Maja the Klingons would swear he was in church every second and that we are persecuting one of their most precious religious figures. No one in the Federation wants to take the Empire on over this. It'd be a messy messy suicide."

"Then we go with what we've got." Sarfati nodded at them.

"Yes." Charbon said. "Barring some shocking surprise, I think we're in better shape than we thought."

"I certainly hope so."

* * *

"Welcome, Maja Talljet," Sredia, Sarek's ancient major domo, who'd always like Maja better than Spock, said warmly to the MageCheq.

"Hullo, Sredia." Maja stepped over the threshold. "How's your back?"

"As always." Sredia was not shy about complaining when given the opportunity.

"Ah, well. Let's see." Maja put his palm in the small of the elderly Vulcan's back and sent in a low jet of healing energy. "That might help. They ought not work you so hard, Sredia."

"I work, it is necessary," Sredia intoned as he hung Maja's Klingon Master cloak on a peg in the entry hall. "No one is at home, however, you may wait and have some tea. Lord Sarek is expected within the hour." He turned stiffly to lead Maja into the front room.

Maja followed remembering, how intimidated Spock was by Sredia. Justifiably too, Sredia took every opportunity to intimidate Spock. Spock had once told Maja that Sredia had let up on him after Maja began to visit the house. Thereafter, Maja took every opportunity to butter up the old hellhound. The result was that Maja was one of the old hellhound's favorite beings of all time.

Sredia and Sredia's ancestors had been with House of Surak since time beyond memory. He considered the failure of Sarek's first marriage to a Vulcan princess a tragedy and to be Sarek's fault due to some inadequacy in Sarek. Sredia considered Amanda an upstart and Spock a terrible mistake. He had let them both know this in one way or another. Amanda, when informed there was no way to get rid of him, simply ignored him but Spock was less well armored. Sredia was pleased to see Maja turn up and hoped that Sarek would install him as his consort because Maja was a master Sredia would enjoy serving.

Maja looked around the room. It was the same: stone floors and furniture (it was a mystery to Maja why the nouveaux families felt it necessary to sit on such torturous furniture; perhaps it was connected to the cult of logic or something), bare walls but lots of windows. He looked out at the late afternoon sun slanting through the garden. It was a spare and elegant garden he only partly appreciated. He preferred more ornate and varied vegetation but Sarek seemed to like it the way it was. Or perhaps Sarek was just being diplomatic because it was Amanda's garden. Of course, this garden looked like Sarek's rather severe but elegant taste. But, then again ...

'You're nervous, aren't you MajaYaja?' the MageCheq thought ruefully. 'Oh, well, so the worst is he throws you out and you land on your head. Life would go on, eventually, somehow. Right?'

"How is Jir? No one has seen him since he and Hobie arrived." Sredia tottered in with the tea tray, breaking into Maja's meditation.

"Oh, seems fine." Maja rushed over to take it from him. He slopped some tea into two cups and handed one to Sredia. Since the Vulcan had never sat in this room in his life they both remained standing while drinking. "I only saw a flash of him at the prison when I visited Hobie. He's on level ten; all revved up about the trial. You know, he hasn't even seen his children since he's been back."

"Ah, that's interesting." Sredia sipped some tea and decided he'd done his usual excellent job mashing it. "The school age JetCheqs and Communists are all at your old schools."

"No! Really?" Maja exclaimed. "'JetCheqs', eh? D'you know what it means?"

"Of course. Those with half Talljet parentage. A very succinct method of identifying them."

"So glad you approve. Wherever d'you hear it?"

"From Strin, do you remember him?"

"Oh, yes, Shirkar Middle School #7. Taught us math and chemistry. Was very nice to me and Ling."

"He and I still have tea now and then. He says he's very impressed by what he's seen of the Talljet, Commune, etc. children. He wonders why they speak such beautiful Standard and nearly perfect Vulcan."

"Well, I don't know about Jir's children, he always kept them with him. But the Commune found some Standard speaking tutors because we Masters thought it was a good language for us to know."

"Prescient."

"Indeed. And the Vulcan, I suppose Amanda got them up to speed when it was decided to come here. It's damn close to Rom so she probably only had to tweak everybody's vocabulary and pronunciation a bit." Maja sipped some tea. "You know, Sredia, I haven't seen the Commune in months."

"And yet your first stop is here, Maja." Sarek said from the doorway. "I am honored."

"Well, of course," Maja said quietly. "Where else would I go?" He hardly noticed Sredia taking the cup out of his hand and withdrawing.

Sarek closed the distance between them and caught Maja up in his arms. Or so it seemed to him. To Maja it seemed that he flung himself into Sarek's arms, which closed around him. Either had the same result and they simply stood embraced for some time.

"My Maja," Sarek murmured into his Maja's hair. "Are you well?" He leaned back to look at him.

"Yes; now I am." Maja looked up. "You? You've not had anymore health problems? I don't feel any." Maja laid his head back on Sarek's chest.

"Only your lack, Maja."

"Oh! What a nice thing to say." Maja bumped his forehead against the Vulcan's chest. "I'm so glad I came here first. Can I sleep here?"

"Of course. I would not allow you to leave before morning." Sarek tightened his arms. "Perhaps you should let the Sas know you are here."

"Ummm." Maja frowned at him. "I'd like to enjoy a peaceful evening with you, Sarek. If I talk to the Sas it might ruin my good mood. I know, let's send Sredia in a taxi to tell them where I am. I'll write a note for them. They'll invite him to dinner and everybody can get caught up on 'news'. How's that?"

"It sounds like an excellent plan. There are writing materials in my office, go. I'll call Sredia and a taxi."

Maja stepped into Sarek's severely elegant office and sat at the huge desk to compose his note.

"But what will you do for dinner?" Sredia, in his cloak, was asking as he came in.

"We will manage, Sredia," Sarek assured him.

"Here, Sredia, please give the Sas this note for me." Maja asked politely. "You may read it of course."

Sredia opened it on the spot: "Maja, this is not the proper declension of this noun and I would use a more formal verb here. Also break this sentence into two or you'll have the Sas here in an instant to correct your grammar." He handed the note to Sarek, who made a few more suggestions. Maja stomped back into the office, rewrote it and stomped back.

"Thank you," Maja said politely.

"You are welcome, Maja." Sredia moved to the door.

"Make them give you some dinner." Maja waved at the taxi pulling up.

"I'm sure they will. Good evening." Sredia nodded. He tottered to the taxi, climbed in and was gone.

"More tea, Maja?" Sarek asked.

"Yes, please. Perhaps we could go sit in bed and drink our tea," Maja asked innocently.

"An excellent idea." Sarek led the way to the bedroom he'd previously shared with Amanda.

Maja kicked off his boots and sat cross-legged on the bed: "Never been in this part of the house before."

Sarek kicked off his boots and sat next to him: "No reason why you should have been."

"True." Maja curled into Sarek's arm and they sipped their tea for awhile.

"Listen, Sarek," Maja began abruptly. "I wanted to tell you about what happened on Hzabeda: I wasn't running away from you but from the situation."

"I suspected that might be the case."

"I'm glad you suspected that. For all the good it did. Running away, I mean. Everything still went straight to hell."

"Maja, you could not have known that the Yhets were going to try to create a combined empire."

"Oh, that. I'm not talking about that. I wish we'd thought of that."

"I don't. It might have worked with you Talljets behind it."

Maja chuckled serenely. He leaned over a pressed a kiss to Sarek's lips: "Flatterer," he murmured, moving to Sarek's neck.

"It is as you say, Maja." Sarek slid his hands to Maja's hips and began to pull up his cassock. "How does this come off?"

"Very simply." Maja undid the fastenings at the waist and neck and pulled it over his head. Naked, he reached for Sarek's robe and began to pull at closures.

Sarek removed his hands and stood. "I'll do it, thank you."

"Hurry up." Maja growled, slipping under the covers where Sarek soon joined him.

For awhile they just held each other. Maja could feel Sarek's intensity; in another being it might be called urgency but Sarek held himself too much in check. Realizing that Sarek was waiting for him to set the pace, Maja rolled on top of him and caressed their erections together.

'I wonder how this will be without the link,' Maja belatedly thought.

Sarek lifted his hand to initiate a meld. Maja stopped him.

"We can't meld, Sarek."

"Why not?" The Vulcan's cock wilted slightly.

"I'll tell you later." Maja bent and kissed a trail down Sarek's powerful furry chest and rubbed his cheeks over the Vulcan's erection. He slowly licked up the sides before engulfing the head. Wrapping his hand around the root, Maja tightened his grip in small pulses. With the other hand, he stroked Sarek's flanks. He let his mouth descend, impressed that Sarek was allowing him to go on so long. Usually the Vulcan was impatient with such frivolous activities.

Sarek, although enjoying Maja's mouth on him, was ready for deeper union. He reached down and took hold of Maja's heavy braid - something Maja never wore on Imk or Gyvrre - and tugged Maja up his chest. Undoing the braid, Sarek kissed the half Mage deeply. He rolled Maja onto his back.

"I want to be on top!"

"No."

Sarek rolled him forward and centered his cock.

"Hey!"

Sarek covered Maja's mouth with his own to cut off whatever commentary the half Mage had to offer as he eased into him. Sarek lifted his mouth once he hit bottom.

"You may be on top next time."

"However you want, Sarek," Maja panted. "Just fuck me now."

Sarek almost smiled in his mind and began to move slowly and gently. Maja eased up to meet each thrust as they grew longer and harder. So hungry for each other, neither held back, and after a few more convulsive thrusts Maja cried out and thrashed against his lover. Sarek plunged in twice more and clamped Maja in his arms and buried his face in the half Mage's neck as he came.

They lay dazed and spent for a few moments. Sarek lifted his head and pressed a long kiss onto Maja's lips.

"Why wouldn't you let me meld?" Sarek asked.

"Well, two reasons: I'm linked to my brothers and you would have had all four of us in bed if you'd melded with me because I'm too fatigued to shield from them right now. Also, there are some recent memories from Klingon you needn't see."

"Were you tortured?" Sarek asked looking for marks.

"Yes, but the Vulcan healing trance is a wonderful thing, is it not?" Maja ran his hands over the Vulcan's broad shoulders. "Was it so terrible without the meld?"

"No, not at all." Sarek decided he'd get Maja to talk about the events on Klingon homeworld another time.

"Well, that's good." Maja smiled at him.

"Would you like to take a bath, Maja?" Sarek asked in a neutral voice.

"I SHOULD LOVE TO!"

part 53

"Just when I thought I'd have you all to myself for a while..." Kirk eyed McCoy over a glass of wine in the doctor's quarters. "We're ordered to deliver Lieutenant Eason to Vulcan for the trial."

"Had you known, you could have sent her off with Spock the other day." McCoy said coolly to cover his elation that they were going to Vulcan. He'd always wanted to see Spock's homeworld under less stressful conditions than his first and thus far, only visit.

"I think it's a little more than that, Bones. I think Star Fleet got nervous when Maja and Ling arrived at the head of eighty pirate warships and crews. We're going to be there just in case they cut up rough."

"Did Jessup say why they were allowed to dry dock and debark?"

"They were ordered to dry dock," Kirk informed him. "The Vulcans didn't want that much fire power in orbit so they cordoned off part of the desert outside Shirkar for them to dock in. I'm looking forward to that; pirate ships as far as the eye can see."

"And the crews?"

"Are mostly billeted in and around their ships. Apparently everybody on those ships is a Federation citizen in good standing."

"How's that?"

"When the Talljet planets became Federation members, the Federation inherited their residents, who happen to be Hobie's crews, shipbuilders and their families." Kirk paused to enjoy the doctor's laughter. "And, this is the good part, Jessup wants a look at Hobie's ships so bad he can taste it. He wants our crew, particularly engineering, to mix and mingle with the pirates as much as possible to find out as much as possible."

"I don't see Scotty as a Mata Hari."

"Nor I and I pointed this out to the admiral but he was unimpressed." Kirk sipped some more wine. "Jessup is on his way to Vulcan as we speak."

"Is he called to the trial?"

"No, but evidently Shirkar is the place to be right now. Wolfe and her flagship are there. Grace Blyton is on her way. Commodore Yakolev will arrive soon." Kirk nudged McCoy's knee with his own.

"Why is Theresa Eason being called?" McCoy moved his knee.

"She was the navigator on the Praga when they chased Hobie and his ships all over the Miska system." Kirk hooked his foot under the doctor's calf.

"I bet she's got some tales to tell." McCoy failed to disentangle his leg from Kirk's. "Maybe we should go talk to her?"

"Later." Kirk rose and pulled the doctor to his feet and into his arms. "Tomorrow; it's late, I need you." He pressed a gentle kiss onto the doctor's lips.

"Do you?" McCoy said, coming up for air. "I've always thought you were the self-sufficient type."

"I am, except where you're concerned." Kirk guided McCoy to the bed and swiftly undressed them both. "Then I'm very very needy."

McCoy could not but smile at that. He put his arms around his lover's neck and squirmed against Kirk's erection on his belly. He kissed a trail down to Kirk's right nipple and closed his lips over it, hard. Kirk ran his fingers through the doctor's warm brown hair. McCoy moved to the left nipple and nuzzled it as well before moving lower to Kirk's impressively erect cock. Relaxed and sighing with pleasure, McCoy smoothed his lips over the velvety head, slipping his tongue along the curves and hollows. He did everything he had learned Kirk loved to have done. He glanced at Kirk, languidly watching him through half closed eyes and bent to his pleasant task again.

McCoy wrapped his lips around the head and dragged his tongue along the underside. He relaxed his jaw and moved as far down as he comfortably could. He let his lips and tongue explore a bit before moving back up to the head and down again and back up. He established a gentle rhythm on Kirk's cock, enjoying its texture and taste, feeling Kirk's enjoyment.

Kirk urged McCoy up to his chest. He bent down to lick his own taste off McCoy's lips and roll on top of him, spreading McCoy's legs on either side of his hips and urging them up. He explored the doctor's mouth as he reached for the lubricant in the bedside table.

McCoy relaxed and allowed himself to enjoy the leisurely kiss. It was nice not to feel rushed.

Kirk knelt between McCoy's legs, pulling the doctor's hips onto his thighs, he teased McCoy's cock to hardness. Kirk gently slipped a well oiled finger into the doctor, up to the first joint. McCoy started at the contact, then shivered with pleasure. Kirk's finger progressed slowly deeper and McCoy was focused on the erotic finesse of Kirk's touch. A second finger slipped in and McCoy relaxed even further for Kirk.

Kirk leaned down and kissed him sweetly, arranging McCoy's legs over his shoulders, rolling him forward. Kirk centered his cock against McCoy's tight ring and held there, waiting for McCoy to surrender. When he felt McCoy relax infinitesimally more, he pressed into his lover's body.

McCoy rolled his head in pleasure at being filled by Kirk. He wrapped his arms around Kirk's neck when his lover hit bottom and waited patiently as Kirk established his fucking pace. With each thrust and retreat the head of Kirk's penis stroked McCoy's prostate. McCoy could feel his climax nearing and tried to forestall it by mentally reciting chemical compounds. Kirk, seeing the doctor's attention wander, upped his tempo a little and bent to take McCoy's left nipple gently between his teeth. McCoy clung to him: "Jim, I'm going to cum if you don't slow down."

Kirk cooled his pace, still moving inside McCoy, allowing him to edge back from his climax. He adjusted his angle to take some pressure off McCoy's prostate. Kirk slid all the way in, bent to McCoy's mouth and kissed him gently, coaxing his mouth open and slipping his tongue between McCoy's teeth.

Seeing McCoy and he were now on the same page, Kirk began his long, slow strokes again. He urged McCoy into the same rhythm and they stroked each other higher and closer.

McCoy had just time to cry out before his orgasm swept from his toes to the top of his head, clenching his ass around Kirk. Cum splashed between them. Kirk claimed his mouth again.

McCoy shuddered, moaning against Kirk's tongue, his cock pressed between their bellies, slippery with his cum. And still Kirk was fucking him with long, slow, powerful strokes.

Kirk was moving, harder, faster, deeper; head thrown back, eyes closed, intent on his own climax. Kirk let his head fall forward, eyes closed, panting. His thrusts became erratic and McCoy simply held on. Kirk flung himself against McCoy, once, twice, threw his head back and came and came and came with a choked cry. He collapsed into McCoy's arms and lay panting on the doctor's chest.

They lay like this, exhausted but still tingling with pleasure, until the doctor began to feel oppressed by Kirk's weight and urged the captain off him. Kirk snapped out of his post-coital trance and pulled McCoy even closer. He rolled onto his back and settled McCoy on his chest, caressing as much of him as he could easily reach.

Realizing he was parched, Kirk rose from the bed and walked over to the table. He refilled their wine glasses and rejoined his supine lover.

"Thanks." McCoy said, accepting his glass. The wine tasted especially good after sex.

"You are very welcome."

* * *

Maja had slept on after Sarek left that morning and was given a thumping good breakfast by Sredia when he finally got up. They sat in the kitchen together as Maja ate his way through a mountain of food. Sredia had brought back Maja's note with further corrections from the Sas and Maja glanced over it as he ate.

"Now you know why I dread going there." Maja told him around his toast.

"Written Vulcan is very difficult. I believe the Sas simply wish you to be as proficient as you were before you left." Sredia had had a delightful dinner with the Sas and hoped to defend his hosts and smooth down the MageCheq at the same time. "Prince Strig was at dinner."

"And who is he?"

"One of the clan T'Pira."

Maja cast his mind back for a moment: "Really? He must have told his mother he was going to the library because T'Pira hates the Sas."

"Princess T'Pira is a noble Vulcan lady, I doubt she hates anyone."

"Huh. What's he doing at the Sas?"

"He seemed very interested in his conversation with your nephew, Polmira."

"Oh? Is he Sribit's son?"

"Prince Sribit is his uncle. Strig is Sbat's youngest son. I believe they met at the Preparatory Institute."

"Where else? I can't imagine Polmira at any of those mind-crushingly boring teas the Lady T'Peja used to give."

"Nor I, Maja, nor I."

"Did you see any of my brats?"

"Yes, all three. Tien showed me the repairs on the house, it's coming along nicely."

"Really? That's a good project for the Commune. Keep them out of trouble."

"I met Farro, he showed me a sculpture design he and his brothers made that they are quite proud of."

"What didja think?"

"Too much movement."

"He likes things that move, always has. And Hraja?"

"He was working on a ladder so he only waved at me. He seems like a nice young man."

"They're all nice, Sredia. I'm very proud of them, really. I suppose I should tell them someday."

"I hope you will not wait too long."

"I won't. I'll tell them tonight, in fact." Maja drank some tea. "Did you see Lady Amanda?"

"I was told she and Prince Khat were at the Lady T'Preva's reception."

"Amanda's brave to take him there."

"I understand Lady Amanda is quite brave where Prince Khat is concerned."

"Aye," Maja agreed dryly. "Since when is he Prince Khat instead of Master Khat?"

"It is how he was presented to me by SaCriz."

"I wonder if SaCriz isn't overdoing it. I'm trying to forget 'Master Khat's' royal stint, I hope everyone else will too."

"Would you prefer that I call him Master Khat?"

"Yes, please. And does the number fifteen bus still run by the corner and do you have a token?"

Maja finished his breakfast, thanked Sredia for everything and went off to catch his bus.

"SaMaja!" An old woman on the bus hailed him.

"Oh, hello T'Prizi. How are you?" Maja asked, wondering how this fossil could still be alive.

"Well, thank you, SaMaja. I was just talking about you and your brothers with my grandson..."

Thankfully, T'Prizi got off the bus at the shops and Maja discreetly waited one more stop to get off himself. Being polite to T'Prizi, who could talk the flesh off your bones, he'd overshot his stop by several blocks. He was in a shopping area so it would be a pleasant if roundabout walk to the Sas. He noticed the old art store he where used to buy his paints and paper was still in business and stepped inside.

"Live long and prosper, SaMaja." Svik greeted him as if he'd just seen him yesterday.

"Peace and long life, Svik," Maja returned pleasantly. "Oh, you framed them and hung them up." Maja looked up at three of his early drawings hanging behind the counter.

"I sold one when I needed some money."

"You can't have gotten much for it." Maja observed.

"I would not have parted with it had I not gotten quite a lot, SaMaja. They are precious to me."

"Oh. Well, I'll try to make some more. You were very kind to take them in trade when I had no money for art supplies." Maja smiled with his eyes, which is what the Vulcans preferred (there was something disconcerting about baring the teeth and contorting cheeks in Shirkar - such actions were to be avoided). "By the way, where are the other two?"

"In my sitting room. Perhaps you will join me there for some tea?"

"Yes. Thank you." Maja glanced at the clock and decided he had plenty of time to get to the Sas and proceeded to have a very pleasant visit with Svik.

After lunch, Maja emerged from the art store and headed in the direction of the Sas' mansion. He only ran into three or four more acquaintances so he arrived as the light took on a pinkish glow and made everything look soft and inviting. Even the Sa mansion looked new and hopeful.

He pushed open the back gate and stared around at the huge and tidy garden. Maja had never seen it cleaned up; it seemed to go on forever. He stood staring at it for a while, suddenly very nervous about seeing these old men. He crept around the side of the house and looked in the kitchen window.

There was no one in the kitchen. He heaved a sigh of relief and turned back to his contemplation of the garden. He noticed someone had planted a vegetable patch. Maja skulked over to look at it, noticing it was planted with the same things he and his brothers always planted. Except this one was expertly terraced and irrigated so the yield would be at least ten times what the Talljets used to get.

'I see the hand of Master Pzchaz and the Farro in this,' Maja thought, suddenly feeling useless to the Commune and the universe in general. 'I've been wasting my time in spaceships while they've been creating beauty everywhere.' He heard an upper storey window open behind him and turned.

"Is that you, Maja? What are you doing standing in the garden?" SiJidi asked kindly.

"I was just looking at it." Maja was defensive but he was also noticing how pretty the house was free of vines and creepers. How huge, too.

Another window flew open: "Maja? At last! What a disgraceful note you sent here last night. Your teachers will be ashamed," SoLri, one of his Vulcan teachers, scolded.

"Not if they don't find out." More defensive.

"Master Ghet!" Farro flung open another window, Hraja waved from behind him.

"Hullo, lads. Farro, what ever are you wearing?"

"It's Jir's old school uniform, yours was too small. Bot's wearing it."

"Greetings, Maja!" SaCriz cried from a tiny balcony next to Farro's window.

"SaCriz! Why are the children wearing hand me downs?" Really defensive.

"There's lots of wear in them yet, Maja," SerNera observed serenely from another window.

Maja turned back to Farro: "You do that garden?" He gestured over his shoulder.

"We all did it, Master," Hraja informed him.

"How did you know what to plant?"

"They asked us: we told them, Maja," SoLri said. "We remember most of your Talljet ways."

"Ah." Maja looked back at Farro, who was smirking at SoLri, and wondered just what tales the old men had told the Commune. "Is everyone here?" Maja asked vaguely and immediately regretted it.

"What do you mean, 'everyone', Maja?" SaCriz snapped irritated that Maja was still as vague as always.

"I mean the Commune and the whores and the JetCheqs..."

"That word is brilliant," SiJidi informed him.

"I'm so glad you like it." Maja turned back to Farro and Hraja. "Well?"

"Yes, Master," Hraja said. "The whole Commune and all the cousins are here and some people I don't really know. Oh, yes, and the little blind boy, Laninin."

"And WE want to talk to YOU about that, Maja," SoLri said seriously.

"Why ME? He's NOT mine."

"You're the first of your brothers to show his face here, Maja," SerNera told him.

"Oh, excellent. I could leave and come back."

"Too late, half Mage, SaBrzia wants to see you." Spaga held the kitchen door open.

Maja heaved a sigh and stomped inside. He felt like a twelve year old, he knew this would happen. Ling and Jir claimed it happened to them, why should he be spared? He kicked off his boots and stomped across the living room to drop them on the rack by Svurek and his door, which seemed to be under construction.

"Hullo, Svurek," Maja said. "What goes on with your door?"

"Your Commune is repairing it."

"Are they? How long since anyone came or went through it?"

"Oh, seventy years or so," Svurek mused, knowing full well it was 71.65 years but preferring to be stylishly vague.

"Well, I hope you remember how to let them in and out." Maja smiled at him; he liked Svurek.

"I'm sure I do, half Mage." Svurek said mildly; he was fond of Maja in an off hand way.

"Come, Maja, stop stalling," Spaga said and led him up the now tidy staircase and down a hall. He stopped and knocked on a door before entering.

SaBrzia was old before Maja was born and now he was really old. He had lost his vision slowly and refused to do anything about it. He had pupils to read to him, what else did he need? Besides, he'd seen too much silliness in the world. Appearances caused all the trouble in life, better not to see them. While Maja lived in the house, SaBrzia spent his days behind a huge desk in the office next to his bedroom. It was at this desk that he had formulated the linguistic theories that made him famous. He was not the most patient being and had a temper when roused. Of the Talljets, Jir was his favorite and then Maja but he was still gruff with both of them. Hobie and Ling he ignored and was ignored by them in turn.

Maja stepped up to the side of the bed and looked down at the shrunken figure there. He glanced back at Spaga whose face was unhelpfully blank.

"What's the commotion, boy? Can't you come into the house and pay your respects decently?" SaBrzia croaked, waving Spaga out of the room.

"Well." Maja unhooked the clasp of his Master's cloak. "Obviously not." He tossed it on a chair. "You know what a savage I am." He shook the energy out of his hands. "I really haven't changed much." He slipped into the bed and curled around the weakened old man, sending a gentle but steady healing wave into him.

At first SaBrzia could only frown in indignation at this outrageous behavior but very soon, he wheezed his protest: "Maja, get out of this bed."

Maja ignored him. Some time went by.

"MAJA, get out of this bed."

Maja closed his eyes. Some more time went by.

"MAJA, GET OUT OF THIS BED."

Maja, feeling drained, dozed off. Even more time went by.

"MAJA, GET OUT OF THIS BED!" SaBrzia roared rising from the bed and if tone could maim, Maja'd be leaving in a basket.

"What's all the noise?" Spaga asked, reentering. He rushed forward to support his teacher to a chair and wrap a robe around him. SiJidi and SaCriz also came in, attracted by the commotion.

"I'm going to my office," SaBrzia growled, rising again. "I want lunch. I want him out of my bed before dinner." He pointed at the bed where Maja lay curled on his side, looking up at him. SaBrzia stormed out of the room, Spaga and SaCriz in his wake.

SiJidi sat down on the side of the bed and pinched Maja's pale cheek.

"Welcome home, half Mage."

part 54

"So," Maja said in Patois as he eyed Qhoshi over a cup of Relan tea in the Sa mansion later that evening. "The old Vulcans are worried about Laninin."

"They worry over nothing." Qhoshi was frosty. She'd been battered and hounded by SaCriz, SiJidi and SiJidi's cousin, SiRond, since Laninin's arrival in the Sa mansion. The Commune, on the other hand, simply absorbed him and Ling's staff into their midst and all was well. Not so for the Vulcans. It was hard to tell Laninin was blind because he learned to feel his way around so quickly but once they had spotted it they were all over Qhoshi to have him examined by a healer. This was not wearing the madam down, it was merely turning her to stone.

"They simply wish to see if his blindness can be cured, Qhoshi. That's all." Maja knew how grating the Sas could be when they were after something and he felt sorry for her.

"Laninin is none of their business." Cold as ice.

"True." Maja sipped some tea to warm up. He didn't know Qhoshi very well and Laninin hardly at all. The little boy he'd seen playing in the Commune had seemed happy and healthy enough. The older children and the Deltan twins, Ro and Ko, had made a safe environment for him and he was happy in it. This was, according to Qhoshi, very similar to his life in Ling's house on Dhrgestera.

"True, Qhoshi, but why have you never had him examined?" Maja asked mildly.

"That, Master Ghet, is none of your business." Qhoshi rose to close the interview.

Maja did not look up. "I suppose I could ask Ling, but it seems a shame to distract him from the currency emergency in the Sovla system." He looked up at her. "So you might as well sit down and work this out before you really annoy me, whore-girl." Maja could also be cold as ice.

Qhoshi sat and serenely wove her long fingers together to cover her discomfort. She'd never heard that tone from Maja but she could imagine how effective it was with the Klingons. She correctly read the meta-message to be 'cooperate with me or I throw you out on your empath whore ass and do as I please.'

"Thank you. Now," Maja said calmly, cleared his throat. "Please tell me why you never had Laninin's eyes examined."

"It did not occur to me."

"Why not?" Maja wondered why she was being evasive.

"It is not necessary for him to see."

"Why not?" Maja wondered if this was cruelty.

"Because he sees with his mind."

"We all see with our minds, Qhoshi," Maja sighed, thinking on whose son Laninin was and why Hobie had bought him. "Are you worried that physical vision will stunt his prophetic abilities?"

"Yes."

"Laninin is not property nor an animal to be trained. He is a sentient being, placed in your care through god's agency and it is your duty to care for him to the best of your ability, which includes his physical well being." Maja was trying not to lose his temper. If Ling and Hobie looked at every interaction as a business transaction they were going to catch hell from Maja. He couldn't really upbraid Qhoshi too much, she was, after all, merely Ling's employee. "Has Ling forbidden you to have him examined, possibly cured?"

"No. We do not feel there is anything about him to be cured."

"He cannot see, Qhoshi."

"It might be voluntary."

"SaBrzia's blindness is voluntary." Maja lowered his voice, which had risen in anger. "Laninin is a little boy who has never seen in his life."

"Master Ghet," Qhoshi said patiently. "Laninin is half Magidrian, quarter Cmovi and quarter Phol. All are empathic species whose bodies heal themselves automatically. He would not have been born blind if that were not the choice of a highly evolved being."

"You know, Qhoshi, I believe, as you do, that each soul makes choices before birth. However, most souls, once they are in bodies and have had a look around, so to speak, often choose to undo or modify those original choices. This is the free will part of the unknowable mind of god's plan for each and every one of us. So you and I, having this conversation, are part of that plan and it is now our mission as souls on the same path as Laninin to TAKE HIM TO A HEALER AND SEE IF IT'S A PHYSICAL IMPEDIMENT AND NOT JUST MAKE ASSUMPTIONS ABOUT GOD'S WILL!" Maja took a deep breath and composed himself. "And perhaps you are right, perhaps his sightless state is the conscious decision of a highly evolved being. In which case, we can have him fitted with a sensor suit and then he can run and play and go to school with the other children instead of having to be carried around like a basket."

"He runs and plays, Master." Qhoshi couldn't quite keep the hurt out of her tone. "We're not monsters."

"Oh, I know, Qhoshi, Laninin is fine in terrain he knows but now he's in a varied and changing environment and needs to be able to see. And if it is in our power to restore his sight, we would be ..." Maja hesitated over the word 'wicked' "... highly misguided not to do so."

Qhoshi lowered her eyes: "He's a very expensive investment, Master."

"He's a sentient being, Qhoshi." Maja said gently, thinking on the hard things he had to say to Hobie and Ling at the earliest moment. "And, in truth, all children are expensive investments, actually more like high stakes gambling. Laninin might not turn out to be what you hope, but with god's grace he will be what he is meant to be. So, tomorrow we'll make all the arrangements and you'll come with us?"

"Laninin will prefer Ro and Ko's company."

"The Deltans? All right. Couldn't Ling have picked better names for them?"

"They chose those names."

"Oh. By the way, Qhoshi, the Sas want to know what drugs Ro and Ko take to damp down their sexy Deltan pheromones."

"Nothing. They are half Cmovian and have the mental capabilities to direct their body chemistry into other channels. As a result they have stronger immune systems and more complex cykotonic and lymphocytonic circulation than other DelCheqs, which are usually quite fragile."

"Remarkably clever that. How do they know how to do it?"

"I taught them."

* * *

"I don't think she's cruel," Maja said, referring to Qhoshi, as he lay next to Sarek several nights later. "And she turned out to be right. No physical basis for the blindness: Laninin simply chooses not to see."

"Fascinating. Is it a psychological disorder?"

"No, I think not. He is in all other respects a normal five year old boy. It's just that his inner vision is so beautiful, why be distracted from it?"

"I cannot fathom it."

"I can fathom it but I can't imagine being blind. I hope I would have the inner resources to cope and the circumstances to devote myself to prayer and the aural joys of god's creation but I really don't know."

"And you will never have to find out, Maja, blindness can be cured if it is physical and a cure is desired."

"Yesssss. Laninin is very chummy with SaBrzia, who is teaching him Vulcan. We did get Laninin a sensor suit so he won't fall down the stairs or knock over a bronze so I guess that's all I can do for now. He's a nice little boy. I think he likes the bustle of the Commune."

"Will he want to leave it?"

"Probably not; I don't really know. Perhaps we'll all stay together somehow. I'll burn that bridge when I get to it." Maja curled into Sarek's arm. "Thank you for letting me sleep here. Those old men are driving me mad."

"Thank you for sleeping here, Maja, I am enjoying the sex and company very much." Sarek listened to Maja laugh for a moment. "What are the Sas doing to you?"

"They make me speak in grammatically correct complete Vulcan sentences."

"Madness," Sarek commiserated. No one spoke that way in Shirkar, it was considered effete.

"Yes, very. And then when I do escape to go paint T'Paga's portrait she laughs at my silly language."

"I can not imagine any Vulcan matron laughing at you, Maja, especially T'Paga."

"Well, she teases me."

"Do you really mind?"

"T'Paga's teasing? Heavens no. She's the perfect woman, you know."

"She is quite well thought of in society," Sarek agreed. T'Paga and her husband, Spoda, were invited everywhere and were in turn gracious hosts.

"That's because she's the perfect woman," Maja persisted.

"Yes, my Maja." Sarek stroked the half Mage's shoulder. "How bad is Ling's currency problem? I heard some news that Talljet Inc. was in serious trouble."

"Well, I'm not sure," Maja stated. "After Ling finished screaming at me for upsetting Qhoshi and interfering with Laninin, she told me that the entire financial system in the Sovla system went belly up because one planet started to print baskets of money to keep the army at work defending them from whoever is running amok there at the moment and it destabilized the currency agreements or something and now we are flat broke so stop spending money this instant. What I really think it means is that Ling is having a cash flow crisis and is down to her last nth gillion kaZillion credits and is overreacting. I've heard this flat broke story before and I think it's all a matter of degree."

"She?"

"Oh. Yes. I guess you don't know Ling is pregnant and totally annoyed. Says the timing is bad. What an idiot. No such thing as time."

"And the father is?" Sarek asked.

"Stez, of course!" Maja rolled his eyes. "Really Sarek, we're not all whores and scoundrels..."

"I never implied that, Maja."

"Ha! Well, never mind. It's incredible to me that Ling and Stez are still together. It's about thirty years, can you imagine?"

"Yes, Maja, I can." Sarek thought of Amanda for a moment but pushed it away. "When will the baby be born?"

"About six months; that's usual for us Talljets. Ling's the last of us. I was first, then Hobie, then Jir, now Ling. The JetCheqs are delighted to have more cousins on the way. I am delighted as well," Maja said thoughtfully. "I will be more delighted when the trial is over and I can make plans for the future. We can make plans for the future."

"Yes, since this trial will probably destroy my diplomatic career, I will have lots of free time."

"Then come with me to the Commune."

"Not as long as Amanda lives there, Maja. We have caused her enough suffering."

"I assume she'll stick with MajaKhat and neither he nor Hraja will ever return to the Empire, which is where most of the Commune will go after all this is over; that would include you and me."

"You would be mad to return there."

"Nonsense, I'm St. Gozine, remember."

"I do but the Yhets will have short and vengeful memories of your sainthood."

"Well, perhaps you're right," Maja said vaguely to avoid an argument. "But it's a big galaxy outside of the Empires and Federations. We'll go somewhere and I'll teach drawing and you can get a job haggling or helping to plan robberies or something. We'll survive; even flourish."

"Yes, my Maja," Sarek murmured sleepily and wondered if Maja would still want this future after Hobie's trial.

* * *

Spock had arrived on Vulcan and found himself in a dilemma: Go home and pay his respects to his father, go to the Gozshedrefreingin Commune and pay his respects to his mother, or go find Maja at the Sas and see what happens. Since it was late morning, he decided to call on his father, who would not be home but Sredia would tell him of Spock's visit. Then go to the Sas, visit his mother and make contact with Maja.

All went as planned until Spock arrived at Sa's kitchen door and wished SiRond, who was already older than god's wet nurse, a long life and prosperity.

"Spock." SiRond thought about this concept for a moment. "Spock. I'm not sure you're allowed in here anymore."

"I see." Spock clasped his hands behind his back. "May I know why?"

"Something in the connection between Maja's departure and you that caused SaBrzia to have a negative opinion of you and therefore ban you from the house," SiRond said.

"But Maja has returned," Spock ventured. "Has the ban not been lifted?"

"Well, I doubt it but that's a good argument." Tiny ancient frail SiRond stepped back from the door he was blocking. "Come out of the sun but wait here for me. I'll go present your cause."

"If you see my mother, will you tell her I am in the kitchen?" Spock asked, feeling like a twelve year old.

"Amanda-anas is visiting T'Pau, Spock. Won't be back until dinnertime." SiRond threw this over his shoulder as he tottered across the kitchen and struggled through the swinging door.

Spock looked around him. He considered taking a seat at the big table and decided against it. It would be undignified if he were thrown out, even more so if he had to rise to be thrown out. He stood at parade rest and reviewed the unchanged contents of the antique kitchen. Hearth, grill, sinks, pantry, spices and vegetables drying on a string strung over the high wide windows - it was the same as the last time he had walked Maja home and they had sat in the inglenook by the fire, drinking tea and ....

"SaBrzia says the ban remains." SiRond broke roughly into Spock's reverie. "However, if you're looking for Maja, he's at T'Paga's house. Do you remember how to get there from here, Spock?"

"Yes. Thank you, SiRond."

"Oh, I'm not worried about you, I want you to show Tien how to get there. Maja wants him to pick up some art supplies at Svik's store and I'm afraid he'll get lost."

Tien glided in and drawled in his Rom accented Vulcan that he would not get lost, that he never got lost and if he did get lost, he would find his way back. He frowned and looked wounded by SiRond's lack of confidence, which had zero effect on that Vulcan. "I have the list and the addresses. I don't want a guide. I don't need a guide." He looked at Spock. "Oh, hello again. Are they asking you to steer me around? Well, you needn't trouble yourself. I will be perfectly fine." Tien looked down at the addresses and up at Spock. "Except, I wonder if you can tell me, what does 'fifth blue door after the big tree next to the children's fountain in the second middle shopping area' mean?

Spock looked at SiRond. "Has Svik moved his shop?" he asked, intrigued but slightly distracted by a low ringing in his ears. Vulcan shops never moved unless their premises were destroyed.

"No, no. Only the city built a new shopping area to the east of it when they built the new suburbs. So now it's the 'second middle shopping area' instead of the 'middle shopping area'. Spock, will you please show Tien where to go?"

"I'm sure he can find it on his own." Spock received a brilliant smile from Tien for this show of confidence and solidarity. "However, since T'Paga's house is in that direction, I will just point out the way when we part."

"I will worry..."

"SiRond, I assure you, Tien can take care of himself."

"That's rrrright!" Tien drawled.

"Then I will worry about anyone unfortunate enough to meet him on the way," SiRond drawled, swiveled and tottered out of the kitchen with what was left of his dignity.

"Where are your brothers and Kalzat, Tien?" Spock asked as they walked down the deserted midday streets.

"Farro goes to the Preparatory Institute and Hraja and Kalzat suffer from the heat so they have to work in the house." Tien flipped his braid off his shoulder. "Plenty to do in there, you know, it's a wreck inside."

"I was last in the Sa mansion before you were born, Tien. They never lived in more than ten percent of it for as long as my father can remember."

"That's true. It must have been a lovely place and will be grand again when we're done restoring it."

"Did you see Maja's studio?"

"Which room?"

"The long one with big windows on the second level. He painted a mural of all his friends on one wall. I am in it. There was a purple couch in it last time I was there."

"I've seen a room like that but no mural." Tien omitted the fact that in this room one of the walls had been whitewashed. "Perhaps I'm confused. You could show me sometime."

"I am forbidden to enter."

"Why?"

"The Sas hold me responsible for Maja leaving Vulcan many years ago."

"Oh."

They walked in silence for a while.

"We part here, Tien." Spock said. "There is your tree and fountain and the shop is in that group of buildings to the left."

"Are there no signs or numbers, Vulcan?"

"Just look in the blue doors and ask for Svik until you find him." Spock turned to go.

"Spock," Tien said. "Listen, about this address for T'Paga. Is this really 'the little house with the big tree in the yard, six from the penultimate corner of the cluster'?

Spock looked down at the paper Tien held and recognized Maja's spiky Vulcan cursive with annotations and grammar corrections from the Sas. He mentally upbraided Maja for sending Tien off into Shirkar with so poor a map. He then realized he'd never known T'Paga's official address, only how to get there, which is what these directions explained if you knew how to read them.

"I do not know T'Paga's house number. Let us go to Svik's shop and I will look it up in his directory and then we can go together." Spock suggested.

"Oh, that's a good idea." Tien assured him.

Tien might have liked to look around a little but Spock took him directly to the dim little shop.

Svik greeted Spock as if he'd just seen him yesterday instead of twenty years ago.

Spock turned to introduce Tien whose eyes were glued to Maja's drawings behind the counter.

"Shall I bring down your parent's drawings for you to examine?" Svik very nicely offered.

"Oh, yes. If it's not too much trouble." Tien was dying to look at these drawings. "Here, I'll do it." He took the step ladder from Svik and had the framed pieces on the counter in a twinkling. He leaned over them as if trying to read something under the crosshatching.

"Do you remember these, Spock?" Svik asked.

"Yes. I remember him making this one of the children's fountain," Spock said softly.

"Can you move a bit, Vulcan? You're in the light," Tien muttered. "Why do they call it the children's fountain?"

"It is where the children of this district play in the hot weather." Spock told him as he stepped back and to the left.

"Did you?" Tien asked distractedly, admiring the rendering of the site, choice and composition of the view. He would go have a look to assess the verity of Master Ghet's draftsmanship.

"No, I lived in a different district. I believe Ling did."

"But not Master Ghet, uncle Jir or Hobie?"

"They were a little too old." Spock said, remembering a late night swim with Maja that had ended quite pleasantly.

"And this?" Tien gestured to the drawing of the big tree.

"I remember him talking about it. He said he wanted to capture the essence of the tree. I did not understand his meaning."

"Do you?" Tien asked Svik brusquely.

"I have looked at that tree everyday for the past one hundred and seventy-two years and yet when I think of the tree, it is this drawing I see in my mind," Svik told him and received a Maja-esque smile for his honesty.

"I must have a look at that tree, indeed." Finding a kindred spirit in Svik, Tien began to relax and enjoy himself. "And this?"

"My shop," Svik said. "Maja often drew or painted pictures of homes or businesses and gave them to the inhabitants as gifts."

"You will see a painting of T'Paga's house when we arrive, if she still has it," Spock prompted.

"Oh, that's right!" Tien looked up at Svik. "I completely forgot what we were about. Here, I'll put these back." He rehung the drawings. "Listen, Svik-anas," he added the Klingon honorific because he felt the Vulcan deserved it. "Can I bring my brothers and cousins to see these? They will be fascinated."

"You JetCheqs are all welcome here, Tien," Svik told him.

"JetCheqs?" Spock inquired.

"Yes, indeed. There are so many half Talljets here in Shirkar, the town's picking up our Talljet slang." Tien smiled up at him.

"Indeed, Tien. Hochofedra." He shrugged awkwardly but Tien was delighted.

"Hochofedra, indeed." Tien shrugged happily. "Svik-anas, please, can I have what's on Master Ghet's list here? I don't know what half of this is."

Svik launched into a long and detailed explanation of his favorite subject: The technical development of Vulcan painting. Maja's request was mainly for paints and paint fixer - a substance of powdered crystals that set the color and kept the pigment from melting in the extreme Vulcan heat.

"You must take care when you handle the fixer because if enough works under your skin it will eventually poison you." Svik cautioned. "And if you don't die from it, you will want to. My aunt had that happen, she was sick for three years and cannot even look at a paintbox now."

"Astonishing! Does she still make art?"

"She switched to ceramics."

"Does she glaze?"

"She uses the natural glazes. Salt, blood, ground up insects, tree sap, crushed grasses, fruit juice ...."

Spock looked at his wrist chrono as Svik wound down through his list.

Unlike Svik, Tien had not missed the VulCheq's impatient gesture.

"Well, I'll certainly bring all the JetCheqs here for a visit," he said, gathering up Maja's parcels and handing a few to Spock. "You are the most fascinating Vulcan I've met thus far, Svik-anas. Adieu."

"I shall look forward to it, Tien. Your total comes to two hundred and sixty-five credits, less Maja's discount of ten percent, that's two hundred and forty-eight point five credits."

"Oh," Tien said thoughtfully. "Money."

Spock handed Svik his credit chip.

"I could simply send Maja a bill," Svik offered.

"It is not necessary, Svik, he will repay me." Spock at least hoped so.

"Thank you, Spock-anas," Tien murmured sotto voce as Svik ran Spock's chip.

Spock nodded gallantly.

The Vulcans made their farewells and Spock and Tien left.

"That was so nice!" Tien enthused. "Can we go by the fountain and the tree?"

Spock allowed him a quick look and then hustled him off in the direction of T'Paga's house.

It was a twenty minute walk through an old and pleasant neighborhood that was old enough to have big trees but too young for the profound decay of the Sa mansion. This had been where the newly independent vassals of the old families had settled when the ancient fiefs were broken up after the Vulcan Civil War. The homes were modest but were surrounded by large lots, which were cultivated for food. Some of them still were cultivated for food but most of what Tien saw were cool shady gardens full of lovely flowers and vines. This cluster of homes had been settled by the vassals that fought for Surak and so was on high ground with good soil and a reliable water source.

The vassals that remained loyal to the Sas, the primary and founding clan of the Shirkar oasis, had settled further east, in the shadow of the Sa mansion. They lived on sandy soil and very little water. They became skilled at divining water or they died out or they moved into the Sa mansion and then died out.

But T'Paga's family had been on the winning side of the Vulcan Civil War, and aside from surviving into the twenty-third century, they hadn't gotten much joy from it.

However, in the less distant past, T'Paga's family had greatly benefited from her and her bondmate's friendship with the Talljets. Previously, they had been minor gentry that had never really reaped the financial benefits of fighting for Surak's cause two thousand years ago. They were gentle scholars, governesses, tutors and small farmers with small prospects. T'Paga and her bondmate, Spoda, had befriended Maja and Ling at middle school and the small publishing house Spoda inherited had flourished from its exclusive rights to Ling's writings and all the business they could handle from Talljet Inc. Rising out of genteel poverty had elevated their social position in Shirkar as well. T'Paga and Spoda were asked everywhere and T'Paga was a gracious and fascinating hostess whose invitations were very much sought after.

Spock knew all this from his mother's frequent informative letters and SaGolia's chatty annual birthday letter to him. He exchanged the occasional note with T'Paga but she was too shy to ever mention her social successes. He was wondering if he would be allowed into her home without an express invitation. He recalled that Sredia had not invited him into his father's house and still stung slightly from being tossed out of the Sa mansion. He had great hopes of T'Paga's hospitality because she was, after all, the perfect woman.

part 55

Tien rapped on the half open door and called for Master Ghet. From inside, Maja called for him to come in and be quick, what had kept him and hurry up.

T'Paga was dressed to receive an emperor and Maja was painting her portrait. She stood in her best clothes in front of the open doors leading out to her garden, of which she was justifiably proud. In the future, she would draw more attention to the garden behind her in the portrait than to herself.

"Spock!" T'Paga's eyes widened in as much pleasure as nouveau Vulcans ever show.

"Don't move, T'Paga!" Maja did not turn. "Tien, bring those things here and look sharp."

"Yes, Master." Tien made a face at Spock and did as he was told.

"T'Paga! Hold still!" Maja snapped.

"It's inhospitable not to give my guests a cup of tea, Maja," the Vulcaness informed him but did not break her pose.

"SpockDeVulCheq is First Mate on a starship," Maja returned. "I think he can figure out how to pour himself a cup of tea."

T'Paga arched an eyebrow at Spock. "Help yourself, Spock. I am at Maja's mercy."

"A fascinating place to be, T'Paga." Spock sat and poured himself some tea.

Maja did a bad job suppressing a smile and rolled his eyes at T'Paga. "All right, Vulcan girl, go rest for a moment. I've got to teach my little savage communist a thing or two about Vulcan painting."

Spock rose as T'Paga approached, her hand in the traditional Vulcan greeting. "Live long and prosper, Spock."

"Peace and long life, T'Paga." They sat and T'Paga poured a cup of tea.

"The pigment goes on first," Maja explained to Tien. "Then you carefully mix the crystal into the acrylic gel, one part gel to two parts crystal."

"T'Pring's actions toward you were unfortunate, Spock." T'Paga lunged into the subject. "Unfortunate and unnecessary."

"Keep the crystal powder off of you or you'll get sick when it works into your skin." Maja stepped back to watch Tien work.

"Oh, everyone knows that," Tien drawled.

"Is zat so?" Maja asked. "Then work on these drapes, Master KnowsAll." Maja stood watching him until Tien gave him such a scathing look he went to go sit with T'Paga and Spock. "You'll call me if you need me."

"I always need you, Master." Tien drawled distractedly. "But I'll call you if I need your help."

Maja scowled at his eldest child and turned to take a cup of tea from T'Paga. He looked at the cup for a moment before he stood and set it near Tien. "You look thirsty, child." He turned to Spock. "Did you make him walk here?"

"It's a short distance, Maja," Spock informed him.

"Hochofedra." Maja shrugged and looked closely at Tien, who gave him the 'go away' look again. "I guess you survived." He sat again and accepted another cup of Relan tea. "Thanks, T'Paga. When did you get here, Spock?"

"About two hours ago. Did you know I am not allowed in the Sa Mansion?"

"No. I didn't know. Did they say why?"

"They feel I was responsible for your leaving so abruptly."

Maja stared at him for a moment. "You were."

"It is illogical to hold me responsible for your irrational and impulsive actions," Spock said simply.

Maja flung his cup of tea into the first officer's face and switched into vernacular Standard. "You broke my fucking heart and cared less. It is neither illogical nor irrational that I wanted out of here and never to see this fucking place again."

T'Paga handed Spock a towel. She looked up at Tien, who was very interested in the proceedings.

"May I have some more tea, T'Paga?" Maja asked politely, switching back in Vulcan.

"Of course, Maja." His hostess poured more tea in perfect faith that Maja would not throw it on Spock unless severely provoked. She'd known Maja and Spock since they were all ten years old and actually understood them quite well. Tea throwing was neither shocking or unusual for those two. It was, in fact, a good sign, a sign that Maja had gotten whatever out of his system and could move on to something else.

Sensing the show was over, Tien turned back to his work. The Vulcan paint medium was proving more challenging than he'd anticipated.

"Seen T'Pring, Spock?" Maja asked acidly.

"No and I have no intention of seeking her out."

"I was just telling Spock how disappointed I was in T'Pring's actions at the wedding." T'Paga interjected.

"Disappointed that she tried to kill him or that she failed?" Maja asked pleasantly.

"Maja." T'Paga sighed and gave him a long look.

"Oh, all right," Maja moaned at her. "I'll be nice to Spock even though he does not deserve it."

"And why not?" Spock asked.

"You would not understand." Maja said flatly.

"You might give me a chance, Maja," Spock insisted.

"... I..." Maja floundered.

"Master, will you help me?" Tien turned and stared at Spock.

Maja rose and went to Tien. Spock's fingers tightened around his cup in irritation. He met T'Paga's bland eye and relaxed a little.

Standing next to Tien, Maja stared at the canvas until he felt his inner poise return. He was surprised that seeing Spock enraged him. 'The half breed is so smug. I'd like to take him down a peg,' Maja thought. 'But I guess T'Pring's beaten me to it.' He looked up and found Tien examining him. "What's the problem, little one?" he asked crisply.

"I can't get this tube opened," Tien supplied neatly and handed Maja a tube of paint.

"Here." Maja handed it back, opened, and went to sit with the Vulcans again. 'Round two,' he thought calmly.

"Have you seen T'Pring?" T'Paga asked Maja.

"No, nor has she left a message on the Sas for me. Have you seen her lately?" Maja sipped his lukewarm tea.

"She's mostly withdrawn from Shirkar and lives on her father's estate."

"With Stonn."

"Yes, with Stonn. I've nothing really to say to her after what she did."

"What she did was perfectly Vulcan, T'Paga," Maja said calmly.

"It was perfectly barbaric," the Vulcaness said firmly.

"I find it odd that you would snub T'Pring for this," Maja mused. "After all, you did end up in the same boat at that tea party."

T'Paga's fingers tightened in irritation around her teacup.

"What tea party, Maja?" Spock asked to break up the silence.

"Oh, let's see." Maja collected and sharpened his memories. "You were off world with your parents as usual and Princess T'Pirind was having this huge tea party and dance. Girls with bondmates were invited but T'Pring and T'Paga could not go because Spoda had to work for his father that day and you weren't here. We Talljets talked to SaGolia about it and the issue wasn't really that the girls had to go with their bondmates, but more that they had to be escorted. So Hobie escorted T'Paga and Jir escorted T'Pring and everybody had a good time."

"That does not alter my opinion of T'Pring and her actions, Maja." T'Paga said.

"No? Well, you don't seem to remember how unpleasant it was to be alone when an important event was at hand and Spoda has turned out to be a good husband, at least he's present. Can't you imagine how uncomfortable T'Pring's life would be with Spock in space ninety-nine percent of his time because he prefers it to her? Why should she be married to someone who is only fulfilling an abstract Vulcan duty he is not really fit to fulfill and never wanted to in the first place?"

"That's an interesting but futile speculation, Maja." Spoda had come in half way through Maja's speech and now sat drinking tea. "And it's all over and done with and there are more important things at hand."

"The past is never past, Spoda," Maja said vaguely. "It's not even in the past. Have you rested enough, T'Paga? I want to finish this section before the light goes." He rose and walked over to the canvas. T'Paga took up her pose again. Maja took up a brush and began to paint T'Paga. He had Tien work on the garden section and they worked quickly and efficiently together.

Spock and Spoda talked about recent events in Shirkar, their careers and their families.

The afternoon passed peacefully until Spoda and T'Paga's children came home and the painting session was terminated for the day. Maja and Tien packed up, Maja taking his sketch book, crayons and watercolors under his arm and giving the paint box to Tien. They were joined by Spock in their good-byes.

On the street, they saw Farro coming to meet them and walk them home.

"Maja," Spock said. "I wish to speak to you."

"Then speak." Maja looked at him.

"Privately," Spock told him.

Maja looked thoughtfully at his children and then sent them off to the Sa mansion on their own.

"Look, Spock," Maja said. "I need some things from Svik's, let's take the number 14 bus and then we can sit by the big tree and talk, okay?"

"Very well." Spock ran his credit chip over the bus token machine twice and handed the disc to Maja. They boarded the bus, which was as prompt as all Shirkar buses.

"Hullo, Sbort!" Maja hailed the driver, an old playmate. "How long have you been driving this bus?"

"Four hours and sixteen minutes today," Sbort informed him. "Thirteen years and eighteen weeks otherwise. How are you, Maja? Hullo, Spock."

"Very well, thanks. You?"

"Well." Sbort nodded to a passenger entering behind them. It was T'Prizi.

"Spock," she said, seating herself across from him. "I was just talking about you to my cousin the other day ...."

Many, many, many stops later, T'Prizi cut herself off in midsentence and exited the bus. Spock and Maja rode the empty bus one more stop and were surprised when Sbort turned off the engine.

"End of the line, travelers."

"Where the hell are we, Sbort?" Maja asked him.

"In the Apa district. These are the new suburbs built after you left, Maja."

"Huh. Well, let's look around, Spock." Maja rose and said good-bye to Sbort. Spock said good-bye as well but also ascertained where and when they could catch the fourteen bus back to the center. They dropped out of the bus and strolled down the tidy suburban streets.

"Some of these houses are quite pretty," Maja observed, stopping to peer into gardens and examine windows.

Spock indulged him, remembering Maja's fascination with other people's houses and gardens.

They came to a particularly nice garden surrounding a house that was larger than the others. It was a small inn and Maja insisted they go and ask to see the back garden.

"After all, if the front is this fine," Maja reasoned, "the back must be truly magnificent."

Spock could not but follow and soon they were standing in a cozy foyer being greeted by a young Vulcan matron, who was pleased to show her inn to them.

It was a pleasant, tastefully appointed two storey structure with a small dining room, a parlor, and two bedrooms on the ground floor. There were two bedrooms facing the street and a suite of rooms that ran the length of the house and overlooked the back garden on the second floor. Maja's speculation about the back garden was correct: it was magnificent. They ordered tea and sandwiches and sat in companionable silence on the small patio, enjoying the garden. Maja pulled out his sketch book and began to draw.

"I'd like to paint this garden," he said.

"What impedes you, Maja?" Spock asked.

Maja glanced at the fading light. "No time, the light's going."

"We could stay here."

Maja looked up at him.

Spock continued: "I might then have your attention when you are not painting."

Maja looked back at the garden.

"And as I am not allowed at the Sas'," Spock continued, sensing victory at hand, "it will be difficult to converse with you if we do not make time now. And I wish to spend some time with you, Maja. I have thought of you often over the years."

Maja looked down at his sketch. "All right. Let's see if we can get the rooms overlooking this garden, shall we?"

Spock rose to go make the arrangements with the innkeeper.

Maja drew until it was dark and they had a simple but delicious dinner. The innkeeper could definitely cook.

"How long have you had this place?" Maja asked the Vulcaness as she cleared away their dishes.

"Three years."

"What's your name?" Maja asked.

"T'Pala."

"Do you and your husband run it?"

"We opened it together but my husband died fifteen months ago."

Maja nodded. 'Another perfectly good woman going to waste,' he thought, remembering his fling with the Imkian widow. 'What's wrong with these heterosexual men that they let such a fine woman and a good cook live alone like this. It's a sin, I tell you.'

"The garden is very beautiful." Spock observed to cover Maja's sudden abstraction.

"Thank you. I have a very good gardener and we work in it together." T'Pala bowed graciously and left them to drink their mineral water in private.

They drank in silence and eventually rose to go upstairs. Their bedrooms had a sitting room between them and after a quick look at the dark garden from the balcony, they settled into chairs, leaving the balcony door open on the mild night.

"Are you...." Maja considered the words available to him. "Are you content in Star Fleet?"

"Yes. My life is challenging and I am productive." Spock waited for Maja to comment. "Are you content?"

"Right now or in general?"

"In general."

"More or less."

"And right now?"

"Right now? Right now I'm wondering what we're doing here, Spock."

"I wanted to explain ..."

"You explained everything very clearly the night you left."

"I have had new insight since then."

"It's too fucking late."

"It is too late to alter any pain I caused you, Maja, but is it too late to apologize for causing it?"

"It is unnecessary. What's done is done."

"And yet you are angry."

"It's odd." Maja sighed. "I wasn't angry until I saw how sleek you are. How nothing has touched you, hurt you, scarred you, blessed you. Nothing, Spock, gets past your perfect Vulcanness to the core of you. To the part of you I thought I loved once. How foolish and deluded of me to think there was anything there that might love me back. What an idiot I was. Small wonder you tossed me aside when you were done with me."

"I never intended to cause you pain, Maja. I thought you were aware that my commitment to T'Pring was unshakable."

"Obviously less than your commitment to Star Fleet." Maja said. "T'Pring was not the obstacle. Something could have been arranged around her for us. She was willing, you know. I suppose it would have worked for her and Stonn as well. But only if you'd stayed on Vulcan. You see, I could have lived in T'Pring's shadow, but not in her and Star Fleet's shadow combined. Even a crix tree needs a little light now and then.

"But you told us all to go to hell, didn't you Spock? You cast your lot with your mother's people because they're weaker than we vulcanoids and you could feel what you never felt here: You could feel superior.

"And I hope your cruelty to me has given you whatever pleasure you could wring out of it. All I had the impudence to do was love you as you were. Apparently my love was so pathetic you could shake it off without much thought because that's exactly what you did."

"Why did you leave Vulcan?" Spock asked when it was apparent Maja was finished talking.

"Because I thought I was going to die. I thought my insides would be crushed by the agony I felt in my chest, in my throat, every time I saw something that reminded me of you. I ran, Spock, I ran as far as I could to where there was nothing to remind me that you didn't want me. And for a long time I still thought I would die and then time went on and I didn't die. My first thought in the morning and last thought at night were not about you. Eventually I found that entire days went by and I didn't think about you. And then weeks and months and even years.

"But you never entirely left me. One never loses the first love, no matter what. Too bad for me it was you, Spock."

"When I learned you were gone, Maja, I tried to find you, but there was not much I could do from Terra. And there really was no one I could ask on Vulcan. I wrote to you; did Ling and Jir give you my letters?"

"Yes. Later, when they left here themselves."

"Why did you not answer?"

"There was no point. You were in your life; I was in mine. Why dredge up more pain for myself?"

"I wanted to know if you were all right."

"I wasn't all right but what difference would that have made to you?"

Spock was silent.

"What could you have done about it?"

"Nothing."

"See. Nothing but sorrow and regret for me. At least I had my privacy to suffer in."

"I looked for you," Spock said softly and slowly to control his voice, "in places you could not possibly be. In crowds on Terra, I would find myself expecting to see you coming toward me, smiling and laughing.

"When I heard laughter I had to stop myself from staring because for so long you were the only one I associated with laughter.

"It was not until I had been among the Terrans for a while that I realized what I had thrown away. I saw them suffer mightily over love not even one one hundredth as strong as yours. I simply had nothing to compare it with, Maja. I am sorry for both of us.

"I could not find a trace of you anywhere. In cities on new planets I would scan the faces for you. Some part of me was always seeking you. It is illogical but there it is. Eventually it was all I had of you, this ... this seeking."

"And it is simply too late for us, Spock."

Spock nodded. "I have made certain commitments."

"And I love ... someone else. It's not the same as you, but it's as strong. And I have my work."

"As I have mine."

"Yes. Hochofedra." Maja shrugged. "Life goes on."

"Yes."

"And, now, I'm tired." Maja announced. "I do want to stay here for a few days, it's a good idea. The Sas are wearing me down - I need rest, art and normal adult conversation." He looked roguishly at Spock. "I suppose you'll have to do."

"Are you still angry with me?"

"No, not really. I've just said everything I've ever wanted to say to you. I guess you suffered as much as you could, which is probably as much as you deserve so what's to be angry about?"

"Logical."

"Ain't it?" Maja smiled his old smile. "So now I'm just tired. We'll have a few quiet days together to make peace and then we can get on with our lives." He stood and walked onto the balcony for one last look at the shadowy garden. He was neither surprised nor alarmed nor really even dismayed when Spock came up behind him and put his hands on the MageCheq's shoulders.

Spock tugged on Maja's thick braid. "Why do you still wear your hair like this?" He pulled the tie undone at the bottom of the ebony rope.

"Most of it got singed off casting bronze once. This hairdo is a habit now."

"There is nothing to singe it on here, my Maja." Spock slowly unplaited the matte jet coil.

"Oh, dunno, Spock." Maja leaned back into the VulCheq. "Seems to be plenty of sparks flying right now."

"A metaphor?" Spock wrapped his arms around Maja's waist and leaned down to nuzzle his long ivory neck.

"Yessss. Not a great one but the best I can do right now in my distracted state."

"Are you distracted?" Spock asked very close to Maja's upswept ear.

"Very." Maja turned in Spock's arms and leaned his forehead against Spock's lips, an old gesture from their youth.

Spock was nearly overcome by the juxtaposition of the memory of Maja in his arms long ago and Maja in his arms now. The intensity of the embrace was almost too much for the VulCheq. Spock tilted Maja's lips up to his and kissed him gently. He felt Maja relax against him and knew all would be well. The Vulcan nudged Maja's lips apart and ran his tongue over the closed teeth until they opened to him. Spock's tongue was half way into Maja's mouth when the MageCheq closed his teeth on it. This was from their youth as well; Spock froze, remembering being badly bitten once. Maja waited to see if Spock was going to struggle and when the Vulcan did not, Maja batted his own tongue against Spock's a few times before releasing him. Spock lingered a moment longer and then leaned back to look at Maja.

"Aren't you tired of standing up, Vulcan?" Maja asked seriously.

"If the alternative is laying down, then yes, I am tired of standing."

"Then, yes, let's go see about laying down."

The beds in both bedrooms were typical Vulcan: a thin pallet over a stone platform. Maja groaned inwardly but was cheered when Spock collected the other pallet and all the cushions and blankets to make a thicker mattress for him.

Maja kicked off his boots. He was wearing his painting togs: leggings and a baggy tunic, which he pulled off in short order. He slipped under the cover and looked up to find Spock studying him.

"What are you lookin' at, VulCheq?" Maja challenged.

"The three scars on your back."

"Are they different?"

"No. They are as I remember. Your right shoulder, however, is now larger than your left." Spock bent to remove his boots.

"From swinging a sculpture hammer all these years."

"Why did you change from painting to sculpture?" Spock neatly folded his tunic and laid on a chair.

"MajaKhat's mother taught me to sculpt, cast and throw pots. Technically she was quite proficient but had no inspiration or artistic vision. When we joined the Commune, they only needed one painter so I went in with the sculptors and have never regretted it."

"Why not?" Spock folded his pants and put them on top of his tunic.

"More power, more control over the project, get to work outside more. Painters work on what the sculptors leave them. Of course, the sculptors work on what the architects leave us so I should probably shut up."

Spock arched an eyebrow and lay down next to Maja. He pulled the MageCheq into his arms and traced the scars on his back. He heard Maja yawn and leaned back to look at him.

"Are you tired, Maja? We could simply sleep if you wish."

Maja reached down to stroke Spock's burgeoning erection. "I think not, Vulcan." He rolled Spock onto his back and straddled him, stroking their erections together. He leaned forward to tweak Spock's nipples and caress his chest.

Spock pulled his lover down into his arms and rolled on top of him. Equally matched, they wrestled like children for a while.

Maja, chuckling breathlessly, remembered the virtues of surrender and let the Vulcan pin him. He shivered with pleasure, feeling Spock's lips brush his nipple and move lower. Obligingly Maja spread his knees for Spock to nestle between.

Spock wrapped his arms around Maja's hips, elevating them and giving him better access to Maja's arching cock. The Vulcan nuzzled at the base of the pale alabaster shaft, drawing his tongue slowly from root to head, driving Maja wild. He swirled his tongue around the lilac colored head and plunged down on it.

Maja might have arched in ecstasy if Spock had not had him so firmly pinned. He contented himself with stifling his howl of pleasure with the back of his hand.

Spock removed his mouth and sat back. He pulled Maja down the bed and onto his lap, slipping a forearm under each of Maja's knees.

Maja put his arms around Spock's neck and, supported by Spock's arms, hoisted himself over the Vulcan's erection. He felt Spock lock his hands behind his back and maneuver him over his cockhead. Maja leaned forward and kissed Spock as the Vulcan lowered his lover slowly down onto his shaft.

Maja let his head fall back in pleasure as Spock hit bottom. They rested like that for a moment until Spock began to move. Supported on Spock's arms, Maja slid his body up and down on Spock's erection, while rubbing his own erection on Spock's belly. As Maja became more aroused, the more contact he sought with Spock's belly and his motions on the Vulcan's cock became more and more frantic.

Spock tightened his arms and held Maja still for a moment. He heard Maja suck in a fierce breath and felt him trembling with passion. Spock loosened his grip and set a gentler pace for them. He felt Maja relax and match his rhythm, pushing up the tempo a little, but slowing back down when Spock tightened his arms.

Maja leaned his forehead against Spock's collarbone and lengthened his strokes. He was relieved when Spock let him do this, they were both close, both ready. Maja tightened his grip on the Vulcan's shoulders but was surprised when Spock gathered him up and laid him down.

Spock adjusted his angle slightly and slid all the way in. He leaned down and gently kissed Maja. He drew back to look at Maja, whose eyes were shinning and his hair was spread out beneath him like a mantilla. It was the same, it was as if twenty years had not elapsed. Spock lengthened his thrusts, plunged all the way in and came when he felt Maja arch against him and heard his groan of pleasure. He lay on top of Maja, trying to catch his breath and stay conscious.

Flushed and panting, Maja ran his hands over Spock's warm back and kissed his cheek. He nuzzled at Spock's chin until the Vulcan turned his lips and kissed him back.

"Just like old times, no?" Maja whispered as Spock pulled out.

"Indeed." Spock rolled onto his back and settled Maja on his chest. "Indeed, my Maja."

part 56

"Sarek! What do you want? Do come in. How long has it been?" SerNera called out the kitchen door in Klingonese.

"Quite some time," Sarek said, also in Klingonese. Even Vulcans were allowed to be vague in Klingonese.

"Yes, obviously. Your accent is bad." SerNera was stacking up the dinner dishes. "Well, come in anyway. We have a genuine Klingon you can talk to for a while." He had been Sarek's Klingon tutor many years ago.

"You have an entire Klingon Commune here, SerNera." Sarek stepped into the warm, Relan tea scented kitchen.

"Oh, no. It's even worse than that, Vulcan. SoLri has a full blooded Klingon who speaks perfect Vulcan and wants conversation and composition lessons," SerNera divulged with a twinkle as he put the tea things on a tray.

"Why is that?" Sarek asked, ignoring the twinkle but noticing that no two cups matched.

"Well, this Klingon, Major KzinivDhalk, a diplomat, currently assigned to the Klingon Mission here," SerNera paused to give Sarek time to digest this. Sarek, he recalled, was a quick study but sometimes lost the thread of a story if one went too fast, "was born and grew up in the Klingon garrison on Wryztian Four that was right next to the Vulcan research station there and in that time the entire Wrystian system was so remote that nobody really cared what went on there." He tossed some Relan tea leaves into a chipped teapot. "So, I don't know if it was a Vulcan or a Klingon - probably a Klingon, they can be so innovative - suggested that since, due to some political turbulence, no more teachers could be imported from Vulcan or Klingon, that they pool their resources and send their children to the same school. There were only four Klingon children and ten Vulcans and the Vulcans were very unkind to the Klingons as we know Vulcan children can be to non Vulcans." SerNera paused again to give Sarek a piercing look and see if he was attending. Satisfied, he continued: "And this had the effect on Kziniv of a challenge to out Vulcan the Vulcans and he is perfecting himself in all things Vulcan, just to show up his old classmates, who all died of fever on the next planet they were assigned to. Isn't that fascinating?" He poured hot water over the tea.

"That they died?" Sarek asked dryly.

"All of it." SerNera plonked the teapot onto the tray.

"Yes, fascinating, all of it. Tell me, how is the major's Klingonese?"

"Terrible. Worse than yours." SerNera handed Sarek the tea tray and led him into the big room, which had not changed since Sarek's last visit, over twenty years ago. Except now it was occupied by a variety of interesting people, none of them wearing shoes.

Sarek set the tray down and pulled off his boots. He walked across the room and dropped them on the crowded rack by Svurek and his front door. He nodded to Svurek, who nodded back.

"Is this door being repaired?" Sarek asked, noticing the construction.

"Yes. Soon it will be the only way in here." Svurek said with a gleam in his eye.

"Ah." Sarek had never come in or gone out this door but had heard stories from T'Pau that to enter the Sa mansion through the front door, it was necessary to endure insults from Svurek. "Indeed." He was distracted by a pleasant buzzing in his ears.

"Sarek, come and sit down. We're speaking grammatical Vulcan and trying to teach these little savages something," SoLri called to him.

Sarek took a seat next to Hraja and surveyed the little savages. Tien he recognized from the Rovirin cathedral. Prince Strig, seated next to a lovely youth, was also known to him but the rest were strangers.

"Sarek, This is Major KzinivDhalk, undersecretary to the Klingon Ambassador, Admiral KahbreKyrit," SoLri informed him.

"It is an honor to meet you, Lord Sarek," the Klingon nodded urbanely. "I have heard much about you."

"Major." Sarek inclined his head, thinking that if you closed your eyes, Kziniv's Vulcan accent was so perfect you would not know he was not a native speaker. "SerNera tells me you are interested in our ways."

"I find the Vulcans fascinating, sir. However, I have lately developed a new appreciation for the Gozshedrefreingin Commune and all its works." The Klingon smiled at Tien and the Klingon seated next to Tien glared at him. Kziniv transferred his appreciative gaze to Hraja, who stared blandly back at him.

Tien smiled politely and rolled his eyes. "I remember you from Rovirin, Lord Sarek." He gestured to each person as he made the introduction. "This is Kalzat, he's a Klingon too, although not as high falutin' as the Major. Next to you is my younger brother, Hraja. Over there is Hraja's younger brother, Farro. Next to Farro is our cousin Polmira. Next to him is Strig. Over here by Kalzat are our cousins Lyra and Hobiea."

Sarek took in each of the JetCheqs in turn but could not keep his glance from returning to Polmira, who was astonishingly beautiful. There was something very familiar about him to Sarek as well, but the Vulcan could not place what it was.

"We were just discussing Tien, Hraja and Farro's fountain design, sir," Kziniv broke into his contemplation of Polmira. "Farro, why not show it to Lord Sarek, he might know what your chances of winning the competition are."

Farro leaned forward and pressed the sensor on a holopic in the middle of the low table. An animated three dimensional fountain design sprang up. To Sarek, it resembled an upended tree, with its roots swaying in the wind. At intervals a jet of water shot up and dripped off the shiny bronze tendrils. Sarek found himself mesmerized by it.

"What do you think?" Hraja asked softly.

"Fascinating," Sarek murmured. "Where would it be installed?"

Hraja named a courtyard not far from the new suburbs.

"I hope you win. It is an excellent design. When will you know the results?"

"In a few weeks," Tien told him. "I wonder if we will win. We've looked at other fountains in Shirkar and you Vulcans like lots of water in your fountains."

"Is that not the point of fountains?"

"YES. But this is a desert." Farro blazed in. "It's high time you people admitted that."

"What?" SoLri asked.

"A desert." Farro repeated. "All I've seen in Shirkar are lots of fountains in enviro bubbles to keep the water from evaporating. That's ridiculous and unnatural. This is a desert and the only sensible art is art that reflects that. Dry art."

Sarek and Strig exchanged puzzled looks.

"But, cousin," Polmira said in his low mellow voice. "Your fountain has water."

"The minimum to qualify, Polmi. If I'm to change the aesthetic thinking around here, I've got to get on the turf," Farro asserted.

"Of course we had nothing to do with it," Tien drawled at Hraja. All three of them had all designed the fountain, something Farro kept forgetting.

"TIEN. I know you and Hraja disagree with me..." Farro began.

"Farro, I simply don't care how much water the Vulcans waste in their desert. Unlike you, I haven't made this incongruity into a crusade."

"But it is illogical, isn't it, Strig?" Hraja turned to the Vulcan youth next to Polmira. "To live in a desert and have your public art be so alien and fragile that it must be in a special environment to survive?"

"We Vulcans are attracted to the rare and precious, as all beings are," Strig said, glancing at Polmira. "I do not find it offensive that we wish to spend our resources on something as exotic and beautiful as special environments for our fountains, if they are pleasing to the eye and ear."

Farro groaned. "Denial. You're all in denial about who you are."

"Now that I think about it, it is illogical to waste so much water in a desert." SoLri put in.

"See! See!"

"Farro, calm down," Tien chided. "Well, let's see if we lose before we go to war, okay?"

They drank their tea in silence for a while.

"What brings you back to us, Sarek?" SoLri asked.

"I am looking for Maja."

"We thought he was with you this evening. SerNera!" That Vulcan looked up from his reader. "Do you know where Maja is?"

"No idea whatsoever." And continued his reading.

"I saw him this afternoon at T'Paga's," Tien said. "He went off with Spock."

"'He went off with Spock'?" Sarek repeated. Sredia had told Sarek of Spock's visit but somehow it had not occurred to Sarek that Spock might seek out Maja.

"Yes." Tien related the entire afternoon to his rapt audience and only had his Vulcan corrected half a dozen times by SoLri in the process.

"I see." Sarek sat back, sipped his tea.

"So where are they?" SoLri asked.

"I have no idea." Sarek answered.

"How can we find out?"

"They are adults, SoLri, they may spend the night elsewhere if they choose."

"They are idiots, Sarek. How can we find them?"

"May I use your comm line?"

"Of course."

Sarek rose and made a call to Commander Ma, the Star Fleet Mission's liaison to the Vulcan Interplanetary Ministry, and asked him to have the call put through to Spock's communicator.

~

"What is that annoying sound?" Maja asked sleepily as Spock rummaged through his clothes for his communicator.

"Spock here."

~

"Where are you?" Sarek asked.

~

Hearing Sarek's voice, Maja sat up in surprise.

"I am in a hotel in the new suburbs, father."

~

"Why?"

~

"The garden pleased Maja and so we stayed."

~

"Is Maja with you now?"

~

"Yes."

~

Sarek turned to SoLri and the wide eyed guests. "Is there anything you wish to say to Maja, SoLri?"

"When is he coming back?"

~

"In a few days, IF nobody minds," Maja snapped into the communicator.

~

SoLri shrugged.

"Nobody minds, Maja. Good evening." Sarek terminated the comm.

~

"Hmmmm. Well, that was interesting. You'd never know we were grown up adult people, would you?" Maja snarled, wondering what Sarek was thinking right now.

"Indeed."

~

"How long have you lived on Vulcan, Major?" Sarek said blandly, resuming his seat.

"Two years. I enjoy it."

"And our public fountains do not offend you?"

"Hardly. However, I find the architecture rather bland."

"Indeed."

* * *

Maja spent the next two days painting and sketching the garden. They had the inn all to themselves and spent most of their time in the garden. Or in bed.

Maja found the late morning light most becoming to the garden and preferred to paint then. He looked over at Spock dozing on a chaise. That was a good sign; Spock only let down his guard enough to doze off with people he trusted.

'But so what?' Maja thought. 'We've made peace and had some fun and soon it will be back to reality. Hochofedra.' He mentally shrugged and tried to focus on his watercolor. It was futile so he gave up and reviewed his earlier conversation with Spock.

"Why did you join Star Fleet?"

"To leave here."

"Leave Vulcan? I thought you loved this place."

"I do not 'love' any place. I did not consider my prospects here as attractive as those Star Fleet offered."

"No, I suppose being under Sarek and T'Pring's thumbs would not have seemed attractive."

Spock stretched out on the chaise.

"Was it worth it?" Maja asked.

"Worth what, Maja?"

"Leaving. Sarek not speaking to you for eighteen years. Getting dumped by T'Pring, although you really dumped her first..."

"That is debatable."

"Let's don't and say we did. Was it worth it?"

"Yes."

"No regrets?"

"Only that I caused you and my mother pain."

Maja winced at being bracketed with Amanda but said nothing.

"Have you any regrets, Maja?"

"Many."

"Why?"

"Because I've made more decisions than you have." Hitting back for bracketing him with Amanda.

"What do you mean?"

"You just follow orders, Spock. I've had to guide the destiny of empires, as well as raise children and make art."

"In that order?"

"Actually in the reverse."

"What empires?"

"Well, I've helped out the Klingons and then we Talljets have made some progress for ourselves."

"I see." Spock decided not to remind Maja that Hobie was in jail, their putative Talljet empire was in ruins and the Klingons had just finished a war with the Roms that could have been avoided.

"True, Spock, avoided at the cost of leaving my child, my partner and your mother on Romulus and to god knows what fate," Maja snapped. "Fucking shield if you're going to think negative thoughts at me."

"My apologies. I am tired and we have grown close again. I have grown lazy around the humans about shielding."

"That must be a luxury," Maja observed, relenting. After all, Spock had only thought the truth. What was annoying was that he put the worst possible cast on it. "Shielding wears me out whenever I have to do it."

"Certainly it was not necessary with the Klingons?"

"No. But sometimes in the Commune when I want to work or pray in private I'd use those old techniques I learned here."

"Maja," Spock said after a short silence. "Do you love my father?"

"With all my heart."

"Then why are you here with me now?"

"To get it out of my system."

"I see."

"Why are you here with me now, Spock?"

"For the same reason."

"Ah." Maja had turned to his painting and Spock nodded off.

~

"Here?" McCoy had looked dubiously at the bland little structure before him. "Why would Spock be here and not with his family or at the Star Fleet Mission?"

"His communicator is here, Bones," Kirk said. "I assume he's with it. Let's go see, shall we?" He ushered the doctor up the steps.

"I still think we should have called first," McCoy grumbled.

"It'll be a surprise."

"I hate surprises, Jim."

"I love them."

They were greeted by a middle aged Vulcaness, who directed them onto the patio where they found Maja painting and Spock sleeping.

"Oh ho, Spock! We're caught by your CO and doctor," Maja laughed, rising to greet the humans. "Let's see, how's it done again?" He made an elaborate pantomime of trying to split his fingers into the Vulcan salute.

Spock rolled off the chaise and gave him a stern look.

"Captain. Doctor." Spock nodded to each in turn. "May I present Maja Talljet."

"Hiya." Maja waved.

"A pleasure to meet you, Master Ghet," Kirk said formally.

"Enchanted," McCoy observed.

"What brings you out Vulcan way, gentlemen?" Maja asked in his flawless Standard.

"Captain Talljet's trial," Kirk told him.

"Are you a witness?" Maja asked.

"No. We just delivered one."

"Oh, now you're an errand boy," Maja said innocently. Like his brothers, he was not a fan of KirkaFara.

Kirk let it pass. "And we're here to keep an eye on the eighty pirate ships you and Ling pulled in with two weeks ago."

"And every man jack, woman and child aboard 'em a Federation citizen in good standing with a valid Vulcan visa, sir," Maja informed him. "I'd say they need less watching than your ensigns on 'whore leave' after a few drinks."

"T'Pala," Spock said to the innkeeper who'd drawn near at the sound of hostile voices. He interposed his body between Kirk and Maja. "Perhaps you will bring us some tea and mineral water."

"That would be nice," McCoy said, supportively. "What an interesting garden." He took Kirk by the elbow and steered him to a seat away from Maja's easel. "This is lovely." He gestured to the finished water color.

"You may have it when it dries, Doctor." Maja frowned at a warning look from Spock. "I have made other studies since I've been here." He handed McCoy the sketch book, noticing T'Pala at the window beckoning to him. "If you'll excuse me for a moment." He went in to find out what she wanted.

"Have you dined?" Spock asked and offered to arrange lunch when they said they had not. He disappeared into the house as well.

McCoy said nothing about Kirk's wrangle with Maja and concentrated on turning pages. Not many had ever looked through one of Master Ghet's sketch books and he knew it and intended to enjoy every inch of it. He came to a two page nude of Spock sleeping in a rumpled bed. He glanced up to find Kirk scowling at it.

"Well, it's anatomically accurate at least," McCoy observed before moving on to a study of the parlor.

~

".... Kirk and McCoy have just arrived. Why don't you come and have lunch with us. It will help me control myself with KirkaFara," Maja said into the comm unit as Spock passed by.

"Whom are you inviting to lunch, Maja?"

"Your father. D'ya mind?"

"No, not at all. Tell T'Pala there will be one more." He returned to his shipmates, rather relieved to have someone to distract Kirk and Maja from one another.

part 57

Maja returned to the patio in a better frame of mind now that he had something to look forward to. Sarek, tired of waiting, had finally called to ascertain when, if ever, Maja was returning to him. The Vulcan's timing could not have been better.

Amanda and MajaKhat, however, could have chosen a better moment to arrive.

"Your children are running amok in the streets of Shirkar, Master Ghet." MajaKhat informed his fellow master.

"If only such a thing were possible in this town, Klingon," Maja drawled. "I'm on vacation. If you can tear yourself away from the Shirkar A-list social scene for five minutes you might look in on 'our' Commune and see what 'our' children are up to."

"Do you really think I have not?"

"Since I've been in town, I've only seen the back of your head getting into hoverlimos."

"Good afternoon," Sarek said serenely to the party at large. His initial impression of the scene had reminded him of the last days of the last Imfzinian war.

"Ah, there you are!" Maja smiled at him.

"I am not late, am I?"

"You're never late, Sarek." Maja looked behind him. "Did you bring Ling?"

"No, I brought myself. Stez is too busy scraping what's left of our fortune off the floor." Ling was not in the greatest mood. She'd had three arguments thus far today and it wasn't even lunch time. "I need to talk to you. Hullo, everyone." She waved.

"Let's see if T'Pala has enough food to feed all of us." Maja swung round on Ling. "Give me a nano, little sister and I'll be right with you. You can eat with us, yes?"

"Yes, why not? I've no money to manage so my day is very unstructured."

Maja frowned at her and bolted into the kitchen, where he assured T'Pala that everyone loved grains and not to worry about how few vegetables there were to go around. He returned to find everyone seated in the dining room and chatting amicably.

"What do you want, Ling?" Maja said quietly.

"You're going to be subpoenaed to testify in Hobie's trial."

"For whom?"

"The prosecution. Jir's trying to get it undone but he asked me to warn you."

"Can't I avoid it?"

"No."

"I thought brothers could not testify against each other in the Federation," MajaKhat said.

"Ling and I aren't related to Hobie or Jir by blood," Maja told him. "That's all that matters in the Federation courts."

"Jir is trying to get you diplomatic immunity because of your position in the Empire." Ling said.

"D'you think, Sarek?" Maja asked him.

"I am not a judge, Maja, but I doubt it. You are still a Federation citizen." Sarek, thinking of his own subpoena, was sympathetic.

"Oh, well. Are you subpoenaed, Ling?"

"Not yet." Ling nibbled on some crackers T'Pala set near her. "There is another matter."

"Yessss?"

"We're flat fucking broke and the Sas want to throw the party of the century for Hobie's 'liberation' as they are calling it."

"Ever the optimists, those Sas." Maja glanced across the table at McCoy talking quietly to Amanda.

"Qhoshi told them no but they were unimpressed. I told them no and they remain unimpressed. I want you to go straighten them out."

Maja laughed. "They don't listen to me anymore than you, Ling. Have Jir try, he's SaBrzia's favorite." Maja sipped some tea. "Or better yet, let's see if the Commune can't raise some money for it, hey?"

"You mean sell one of the children?" MajaKhat inquired.

"Or their representation," Maja said meaningfully.

Master Khat thought about this for a moment. "Oh no, Gozine, no no no. I will not sell a one of those paintings."

"Fine! I'll sell mine. And the next time you look at one of the Sas sheltering you and the Commune at their own expense and out of their own generous natures that took in four homeless orphan boys so long ago, I hope you feel like the parasite you are, Prince Khat."

The table had fallen silent as Maja's voice rose toward the end of his impassioned speech so there was an awkward moment of silence before MajaKhat answered: "Is zat so?" he snarled.

Maja Talljet did not grace that reply with an answer.

"Do you need money, Maja?" Sarek asked.

"Not yet." Maja turned his attention to the dishes being set before him. "I need food." And began to eat.

"Oh, by the way, Gozine," MajaKhat said. "While you were out, an invitation to a reception for St. Kvivnaz Day came for the Commune. There was a separate one addressed to Hraja with a note from Major KzinivDhalk, urging him to attend."

"Is that Klingon extra stupid or extra wily? He must know about KmordriYhet, they're related by marriage."

"How do you know that?" Ling asked.

"When the major began to show an unhealthy interest in Hraja, I made a few inquiries. He's rich, got good prospects, seemed very affable to me, speaks better Vulcan than most Vulcans. Too bad he's from a weak, minor clan and related to that beast Kmordri." Maja started on his soup, which was thin.

"You can't have been considering handing my son over to him or to anyone, Gozine," MajaKhat asked in a shocked voice.

Maja looked up surprised. "Well, no not really," he lied. 'Only if it would form a useful alliance somewhere,' he added mentally.

MajaKhat dropped the subject before he was forced to hear some twisted Gozineian rationalization. He looked across the table: "Spock," he nodded. "Seems like a very long time since we met on Rovirin."

"Much has transpired in the past ten months," Spock said blandly.

"Yes," McCoy put in, trying to jump start the conversation. "Much."

"Is this your first visit to Shirkar, Captain?" Amanda came to the rescue.

"Yes, it is."

"But not to Vulcan," Maja stated.

"No, not to Vulcan. But the first time in Shirkar," Kirk clarified. "It's a lovely city. Amazing fountains."

"And soon to be another." Sarek turned to Maja. "I saw your sons' fountain design. I hope they win."

"Did you hear Farro's Vulcan fountain philosophy?"

"Yes. Most interesting."

The Majas chuckled, remembering Farro pontificating over dinner one evening.

"Grace Blyton is in town. I met her at a reception a few days ago," Amanda continued. "She'll be pleased to see you."

"There's quite a bit of Star Fleet here for the trial," Kirk said. "Admiral Jessup and his staff, Commodore Wolfe and her flagship, Commodore Yakolev and his flagship..."

"It's a convention," Ling put in.

"It's a warparty," Maja observed.

"Is that the same Yakolev as was on Rovirin?" MajaKhat asked.

They looked at Kirk: "Yes, it is," he answered.

"Ambassador Sdiz is also in Shirkar," Sarek said. "I saw him at the Interplanetary Ministry. He asked about you Talljets."

"I bet. You know he's still after Jir," Ling said.

"And will be until Stonet returns from the dead," Maja said bitterly.

"The Kolinahr are not the dead, Maja," Spock said.

"They are dead to those they leave behind, Spock," Maja said quietly.

"What are we talking about?" MajaKhat asked, annoyed.

"Jir's lover, Stonet, left him for Gol, what? Sixteen, eighteen years ago and Jir never really got over it. Sdiz knows this and has been trying to get into Jir ever since," Ling said. "Although Jir's jumped everything that moved trying to forget Stonet, to his credit, he's resisted the Sdiz."

"Can't be easy to forget Stonet when he sees his brother everyday," Maja said.

"Who is?" MajaKhat asked.

"Storen, Jir's law partner."

"Do any of you Talljets ever have happy romances?" MajaKhat asked.

"Sometimes." Maja and Ling smiled at each other. "So, Kirk," Maja said. "Do you have some time to kill in Shirkar or does StaFlet have you swabbing the decks round the clock or something?"

"Yes, Master Ghet, I have some free time while I'm here."

"And you, Doctor?"

"The same."

"Well then, Spock, why don't you take Kirk to see your farm and I'll take McCoy to meet the Commune," Maja suggested, wanting to get a better idea of the man who'd won Spock's heart.

Spock: "I don't think...."

Kirk: "I never knew you had a farm."

Maja: "It's a wonderful farm."

Spock: "Hardly wonderful, Maja."

Sarek: "It is very productive. More than ever since Spock took over its management."

Ling: "What are you growing out there, Spock?"

Spock: "Vegetable proteins."

Ling: "Hydroponics or underground?"

Spock: "Both."

Ling: "Where are you getting your water?"

Spock: "From the neighboring farm."

Amanda: "From T'Pring's farm?"

Spock: "From her father's farm manager, Mother."

Ling: "Who cut the deal for it?"

Spock: "My farm manager."

Maja stood. "Well, this is fascinating but I've got to go to the Commune. I hear my children are running amok in the streets of Shirkar."

"I, too, have things to attend to this afternoon." Sarek rose. "You will excuse me. Maja, a word with you."

Ling smiled at McCoy: "Well, Doctor? To the farm or to the Commune?"

"What a difficult decision, Ling."

Ling looked at MajaKhat, who said: "I guess you'll be welcome in the Commune later, if you like. Captain Kirk and Spock as well."

"I am banned from the Sa mansion until further notice," Spock said.

"Why?" Amanda asked.

"Because of Maja."

"That's outrageous!"

"Mother, please..."

"I'll see what I can do to get it lifted, Spock." Ling rose as well. "Come along later, or call first."

~

Maja walked Sarek to his car. "Will I see you tonight?" the Vulcan asked.

"Yes, of course. Spock will be elsewhere, and..." Maja looked up at him. "And whatever that was was and isn't anymore."

Sarek smacked two fingers against Maja's lips. "That pleases me, 'tho it should not."

"Why?" Maja laughed.

"My son is a more logical choice for you."

"Damn logic; what has it ever done for us?"

Maja watched Sarek's face close.

"Maja, at Hobie's trial ..."

"Sarek, can you give me lift back to the center?" Ling called from the doorway.

"Yes." He stepped aside to let Ling get in the car. "Maja, we will talk later."

"If we can't find anything better to do with our mouths, yes." Maja made sure Amanda was watching before he leaned forward and pecked Sarek's lips.

"Madcap." Sarek got in the car. "Until tonight, then." He signaled his driver.

Maja swung back up the path and past the little group at the door. "Well, good-bye!" And went to pack up his paints and crayons. He picked out a stack of watercolors and drawings, signed them MT and also with his Klingon rune, gave them to T'Pala and asked her to order a taxi for him and thanked her for the superb meals.

"Are you two coming back to the Sas' with me?" he asked Amanda and MajaKhat. They nodded. "Will I see you later, Terrans? Spock?"

"If you have the ban lifted, yes. I would like to meet the rest of the Commune," Spock said.

"And I've never seen a Klingon Commune," Kirk said.

"Nor I," McCoy added.

"I'll do my best, Spock, even if I have to use logic on poor old SaBrzia." He waved at the approaching vehicle. "Ah, and we go." He nodded at the trio on the steps and was gone.

Spock stepped inside to settle the bill and soon was also gone from the widow T'Pala's lovely garden.

* * *

"Come now, Hobie," Strat complained. "Play me a shuffle."

Hobie obliged and listened carefully to Strat's solo and bettered it when his own came by.

"I am sorry you're in jail but I am not sorry you left Shirkar," Strat informed him.

Hobie leaned over his borrowed lyre: "Tell me again, dahlin', I love to hear it - it makes me feel soooo wonderful."

"I would not have enjoyed competing with you as a lyre player," Strat carefully enunciated across the security field of Hobie's cell. "I might have had to switch to the lute in self defense." He waited for Hobie to stop laughing. "I have missed Maja's singing. Does he still?"

"Of course." Hobie drank some juice. "But we don't get much chance. We are or were busy and dynamic people."

"No doubt, Hobie."

"Let us play some Immans." They did, for quite a while and to the great joy of Hobie's jailers. Strat was the most celebrated lyre player of his generation and Hobie was just a little bit better. For lovers of lyre music it was something of a dream concert.

"We should give a recital when you get out, Hobie." Strat suggested.

"We should," Hobie agreed. "My chops are way up. All I do in here is practice, read and argue with Jir."

"Argue about what?"

"He's out for blood."

"Whose?"

"Can't tell you."

"Hobie, you might not know this but you've got the hottest lawyers from the hottest law firm in the Federation working for you." Strat knew this because he'd had Talljet and Storen negotiate various contracts for him. He was surprised to find he'd only been charged a credit an hour for the work. Jir's response to his note of inquiry was that it was the 'family rate'. Strat followed Jir and Storen's careers because they were old friends and they were, according to the media, great legal minds. "You do want out of here, do you not?"

"Yeah, yeah, yeah." Hobie pick up his lyre. "Play me a shuffle, Strat."

* * *

"This is quite good." Polmira was trying to figure out how to eat the sticky, gooey cake Strig had brought him. "What's it called?"

"Aahsav." The Vulcan youth watched with some interest as Polmira dug in with his long white fingers.

Polmira looked up with delighted eyes. He was enjoying the attention from Strig. They were seldom alone but today he'd managed to find a quiet corner where they could have some privacy. They were seated on the purple couch in Maja's old studio, although they didn't know it was Maja's old studio, they just knew it was remote and they were unlikely to be disturbed. Polmira had led a very sheltered life and was not sure why he did not want them to be disturbed, except that lately it was crucial that they were not disturbed.

Tien and Kalzat were usually camped here but Tien had been sent to finish T'Paga's portrait so he was out and Kalzat was with the Commune regilding the ceiling molding in the ballroom. Polmira might have been with them but he'd plead that he had homework that Strig was helping him with and escaped to this cozy spot.

"This is wonderful," Polmira sighed, licking syrup off his fingers.

He shivered when Strig reached over and took his hand and started to lick the syrup off his fingers for him.

SaCriz pushed the door open and they froze.

"Oh, excuse me. I was just looking for my reader." He looked around the room. "Ah, there it is. Why Tien can't return things is a mystery." He mumbled on his way out, stopped and turned back. "Wait a moment, I remember this," he pointed at Polmira's fingers in Strig's mouth. "I remember this from Spock and Maja." He stepped back into the room. "I remember this leads to trouble." He sat down in a chair by the window. "So. I will just sit here and read for the rest of your visit, Prince Strig." And clicked on the reader.

Polmira pulled out his school bag and he and Strig spent the remainder of the afternoon going over Vulcan grammar and important dates in Vulcan history.

* * *

"They were what?" Maja had to have SaCriz repeat what he'd seen Polmira and Strig doing in Maja's old studio.

"I would have thought Strig would be more decorous," SaCriz observed.

"I wouldn't have thought he'd have that much fire," Maja mused. "But I've been wrong about that before."

"Maja, be serious."

"I am as serious as a meteorite shower." Maja strolled down the stairs and into the huge foyer, which was, now that the front door and the rest of the mansion were operational, almost devoid of furniture.

"Maja!" Svurek scowled at him. "How did you get in here?"

"I climbed over the back fence and onto the third storey balcony so I could get to SaBrzia faster," Maja said factually. "I had something serious to settle with him."

"Well, go round and come in properly."

"Why?"

"The front door works again," Svurek said with a gleam in his eye. "This is the way in and out now."

Maja looked over at SaCriz for guidance. The Vulcan's face was blanker than usual. 'Hochofedra,' he shrugged. 'If it makes the old boy happy, what's the harm?'

Ten minutes later Maja felt like he'd been verbally gutted. Svurek neatly laid out all of Maja's shortcomings before he let him back in.

"The old traditions are the best, Maja," SaCriz comforted. "One must really want to come in here to endure Svurek, and his father before him and his father before him and his father before him, and..."

"I see," Maja interposed. "It's incredible anyone would want to come in here at all."

"Spock's great great great grandfather endured much worse to visit SaKoza when I was a child."

Maja had recovered enough to smile at the old man. "I might have run that gauntlet to visit SaKoza myself." He walked back to Svurek. "Look, you, SaBrzia has lifted the Spock ban so let him and his Star Fleet pals in when they get here." Maja turned away and turned back. "And for god's sake, please, please, please, don't give them a hard time."

"It's my job, Maja."

"So, no one escapes?"

"I greet everyone that seeks to enter this place."

'Greet? Eviscerate, more like,' Maja thought. "Well could you make an exception?" He looked into Svurek's bright eyes, brighter than he'd ever remembered seeing them and realized that the answer was no.

Hearing three sets of footsteps on the walkway, Svurek turned like a hawk wheeling on a hare far below. He swung the door open on the first knock and stood blocking it with his frail body.

Spock hesitated but was reassured seeing Maja behind Svurek.

"I salute this house," Spock said, using the old greeting to, hopefully, impress the old Vulcan. "And beg admittance for myself and visitors to the Shirkar oasis." He was rewarded with a scowl from Svurek but a thumbs up from Maja and an encouraging nod from SaCriz.

"Ya do, huh?" Svurek snarled. "And what in here could possibly tempt a creature like you to want to come in here again, Spock? You've already ruined Maja. Unless you're planning to seduce and abandon his bastard children, I can't see what you want here."

A really horrible silence fell over the group. And then they all jumped.

"What goes on here?!?" Farro demanded from behind Kirk. "I want to come in and the back door is locked. Has a sign says 'please use front door'. Well, of course! Oh, hullo, Spock. Do you see this intricate wrought iron trellis around this recessed porch? I did that. It's magnificent. I'm very proud of it. And Hraja reset these stones and recarved these weird figures...."

"I believe they are symbols for the founding of the Shirkar oasis," Spock informed him, glad to have a reason to turn away from Svurek's disapproving eye.

"Whatever, they're very very," Farro drawled. "But isn't this a great door now?"

"Visually it is quite pleasing," Spock allowed as the youngster stepped past him.

"Okay, I'm home now," Farro announced to Svurek, who seemed, to Farro, to be blocking his entrance.

"I'm not sure I can let you in here," Svurek snarled. "Do you always make this much noise?"

Maja gasped in horror and rushed forward to fling himself in front of his youngest cub. "Don't you even try it, you evil old Vulcan fossil!"

"What's the deal, Master?" Farro whispered.

"Ah. Svurek," SaCriz murmured. "Absolutely tip-top. I can't remember you in better form. I rather think by Spock's face that he is sincere about wanting to come in here and will behave himself this time. As for Farro, well, I'm sure he'll quiet down once he has something to eat, you know how boys are, and he lives here..."

"So do I and I didn't escape," Maja squawked.

"You are also older and more flawed than Farro," SaCriz observed. "You do, however, make fully as much noise as he does." He turned back to Svurek. "So. Bravo! You can let them in knowing you've done some of your best work here." SaCriz made as if to usher the little party on the step inside.

"I haven't greeted the Terrans yet," Svurek said.

"They're Terrans, Svurek, what is there to say?" SaCriz observed mildly.

"True enough, that." Svurek stepped back. "You have the protection and succor of this house as long as you are in it. Strength and fidelity."

"Abundance and wisdom," Spock said as he led them across the threshold. He surprised and impressed the old Vulcans by knowing the ancient greeting and response. T'Pau had explained it to him when he first began to visit Maja in this house. At that time, it had been useless information as this door and Svurek's acid tongue were not in use then.

Maja sent a rather subdued Farro to the Commune for revivification and turned to welcome his guests and introduce the Terrans to SaCriz. "Sorry, I think it's an old custom."

"Very old indeed, Maja." SaCriz told them as they strolled through the restored mansion. "It is from a time when it was not safe to allow any but a sworn ally into your home, near your women and children. That reminds me, Maja, I want you to have a very serious talk with Ling. We Sas sequester our women and that now includes Ling."

"SaGolia isn't sequestered." Maja pointed out.

"She was when she was younger."

"SaCriz, with all due respect to your weird Sa customs, I very much doubt Ling is going to allow herself to be sequestered. Especially now, with the recent currency crash. She says we're flat broke and stop spending money." Maja hoped to direct the conversation onto a safer groove.

"Nonsense. If you refer to the ball we plan for Hobie's liberation, we will borrow the money if necessary," SaCriz said firmly.

"You mean that, don't you?" Maja asked as he had asked whenever SaCriz scolded him for some indiscretion in the past.

"Yes. I do. You see." SaCriz gestured to the huge cavern of a ballroom they had just entered. It was a two storey room with high windows and a mezzanine. The walls and ceiling were painted with murals depicting the founding of the oasis: the first Sas vanquishing strange beasts for the water here. Later in the Sa history, the marriage of SaVren and SoSrita, which forged an alliance and peace ten thousand years before the birth of Surak. The couple were surrounded by priests of the ancient way dressed as animal totems. Further along, scenes from the tragedy of SaSkolta and SiLosknir were depicted. Among the other events in Sa history illustrated were the founding of the mansion, the founding of Shirkar, the prophetess SaDursa discovering the springs that would demarcate the old families' estates around the oasis, and lastly, the last pre-reform head of the Sa clan, SaMizram, leading the other clan leaders and warriors to battle with the Surakian forces.

Spock was fascinated. Some of these murals, he now realized, had illustrated his boyhood Vulcan history texts.

McCoy was impressed by the passion of the murals, their rich colors and sensuous composition.

Kirk estimated the room to be about the size of the shuttlebay on the Enterprise. He was wrong; the room was a little larger.

"Wow!" Maja yelped. "I never knew these were here!" He swung round at Spock. "We used to play in here, remember?" Spock nodded. "Do you remember these?"

"No."

"They were covered with moss at that time, Maja," SaCriz said. "The Commune has done us a great service in restoring them." He nodded to Kalzat, just coming down a ladder.

"Master." He inclined his head to Maja. "That's the last of the goldleaf."

'No wonder Ling is crazed about money,' Maja thought looking around at the vast expanses of gilded molding. "Well done, Kalzat. Do you know Spock, Kirk and McCoy?"

"No," the Klingon said flatly and walked away.

"He's tired," Maja explained. "Goldleafing is a hell."

"I met him on Rovirin, Maja," Spock said.

"He must be very tired if he forgot that, Spock," Maja said. "Well, anyway, come and eat with us and I'll introduce you to the rest of the Commune."

part 58

At the table McCoy found himself seated next to Maja, who was examining him closely.

"Looking for warts, Master Ghet?" the doctor asked quietly.

"Not unless you've got magic warts that make stony hearts fall in love with you," Maja teased in an undertone. He was actually examining the fact that Spock was bonded to Kirk and not McCoy, as everyone thought. He found this extremely interesting and wondered how they all coped with it. They coped quite well, if Maja was reading the doctor's glowing and healthy telefield correctly.

"I would say that is your talent more'n mine, sir."

"How so?"

"Spock and his father fell in love with you, didn't they?"

Maja glanced at Amanda in conversation with Kirk before he answered. "The timing gods were with me in both cases."

"How so?"

"Sarek was in a jam and had, I thought, a weak moment. What's surprising there is that he still wants me."

"And Spock?"

"Well," Maja glanced at Spock conversing with Master Whilla. "I met Spock shortly after his pet Sehlat, I'Chaya, died and he was in mourning. I just fit neatly into the void, that's all." Maja smiled wryly. "You, on the other hand, appear to have swept him off his feet at the peak of his powers. How ever did you do it?"

"I was very mean to him and then we almost died together."

"How romantic," Maja observed.

"Well, that came later." McCoy paused to enjoy Maja's laughter. "You must still have 'it,' Maja, you were with him for three days."

"Oh, that was just nostalgia. Spock is hard for me to enjoy like this."

"Like how?"

"Successful, secure and contented." Maja said. "Can't help it, I fell in love with a wounded little half caste, not this StaFlet bravo." Maja looked deeply into McCoy's amused eyes. "By the way, thanks."

"For what?"

"For saving him, so he can be a StaFlet bravo."

"It was my pleasure, Maja." McCoy watched the half Mage lapse into abstraction. "The trial begins tomorrow, doesn't it?"

"Aye." Maja listened to his mind, felt his brothers and sister communing with him and he with them on the eve of Hobie Talljet's trial in Shirkar Federation Court #3.

* * *

Jir had once mused to Maja that there must be an archetype for courtrooms because they were similar all over the galaxy and down through time.

Shirkar Federal Court #3 was no exception. The Judges and witnesses faced the prosecution and defense. Lapham, Charbon and Sarfati sat at their table and Storen and Smig sat across the aisle from them. Next to Storen and Smig was the image of another table where Hobie and Jir sat looking on in three dimensional holo splendor. The court had decided that this was the best way to ensure that the powerful telephatic Talljets did not influence events in their favor. It was not the most perfect arrangement but it was better than nothing. Other than the judges, three bailiffs and the attorneys, the courtroom was empty.

The Terrans wore their Star Fleet uniforms, the judges wore black robes and the Vulcan attorneys wore gray robes. All the vulcanoids had shaved their heads, except Hobie, who had his flowing ebony locks neatly tied back and flowing tidily down his back. Captain Talljet was also wearing his prison romper - a smartly cut blue-gray jumpsuit that was unintentionally flattering and nicely set off by Hobie's tall buccaneeresque boots.

"Be seated. Prosecution, call your first witness." Lord Suqiet, as senior judge in Hobie's trial, opened it without ceremony.

"The Federation calls DveKrit," Lapham said.

A burly mongrel humanoid was brought in from a secure area and seated in the witness chair.

The bailiff moved to his side. "State your name to the Court," he instructed.

"DveKrit." A snarl.

"The penalty for perjury in a Federation court is five years for each count. Are you now fully aware of the penalty for perjury in a Federation court?"

"Yes."

"Proceed." The bailiff stepped away from the witness.

Lapham stepped forward: "DveKrit, have you given a sworn statement to this court that you witnessed Hobie Talljet murder a trader named Gatshira in the city of Mse on Fobda?"

"Yes."

"Please repeat your statement here for the record."

DveKrit cleared his throat: "I met Hobie in a bar in Mse and he asked me if I wanted to come along while he closed a deal with Gatshira. I said yes and off we went to Gatshira's office. When we got there, Gatshira asked everybody else to leave and then he and Hobie got in an argument over the price of whatever Hobie was buying from him and then Hobie grabbed the old man and broke his neck."

"And then what happened?"

"Then we left. And that was the last I saw of Hobie until now."

"No further questions." Lapham sat down.

"Defense." Lord Suqiet looked at Jir, who dutifully rose to his feet.

"DveKrit, what was the name of the bar you met Hobie in?" Jir asked.

"I can't remember."

"How did you and Hobie go to Gatshira's office? On foot or by vehicle?"

"I don't remember."

"At Gatshira's office, what floor was it on?"

"I can't remember."

"Did you take the stairs or a lift?"

"I don't remember."

"What was Hobie trying to buy from Gatshira?"

"I don't know. I wasn't listening to them."

"Why not?"

"It was none of my business. I was just waiting for Hobie to finish."

"Finish what?'

"His deal."

"What deal?"

"I dunno."

"Objection. The witness has stated he did not know what Captain Talljet and Gatshira were discussing." Lapham rose.

"Sustained. Get on with it, SaJir." Lord Suqiet was brusque.

"Yes, sir." Jir suppressed an urge to brush his non-existent hair off his shoulders. "DveKrit, was Lii with you when you claim you saw Captain Talljet kill Gatshira?"

"No, he came in afterward."

"Where was Gatshira's body when Lii came in?"

"On the floor."

"Face up or face down?"

"I don't remember."

Jir looked down at his notes: "You said just now that 'Hobie grabbed the old man and broke his neck'. Did you see him grab him?"

"Yes."

"Where were you standing?"

"By the window."

"Were you watching Captain Talljet argue with Gatshira?"

"Yes."

"But you don't know what they were arguing about?"

"Objection. The witness has answered this question twice already," Lapham said.

"Sustained. Make your point, SaJir," Lord Suqiet growled.

"Yes, sir. DveKrit, where were Captain Talljet and Gatshira standing in the office?"

"I don't remember."

"DveKrit, you say Captain Talljet 'grabbed the old man.' Was it from the front or the back?"

"From the front."

"And then what happened?"

"Hobie snapped his neck like a twig."

"And then what happened?"

"Then we left."

"What happened after 'Hobie snapped his neck like a twig' and before you left?"

"Nothing."

"Nothing?"

"SaJir." Lord Suqiet warned.

"Your Honor, the witness just stated that Lii came in after Gatshira was dead but before he and Captain Talljet left the room. Now he says nothing happened before they left the room. Which is it?"

Lord Suqiet stared at Jir for a moment: "Phrase your questions as yes or no answers."

Jir, knowing Suqiet well, was ready for this. It was the old man's favorite ruse to move things along. He turned back to DveKrit.

"Did Lii come in after Gatshira was dead?"

"Yes."

"Was Captain Talljet still holding the body when Lii came in?"

"No."

"Was it on the floor?"

"Yes."

"Did Captain Talljet take anything from the room before you left?"

"No."

"Did you and Captain Talljet leave with Lii?"

"Yes."

"Did you take the lift or the stairs?"

"I can't remember."

"Did you and Lii and Captain Talljet separate inside the building?"

"No."

"Outside?"

"Yes."

"On the street?"

"Yes."

"Was it raining?"

"I don't remember."

"On your way out of the building, did you see anyone?"

"No."

"So. You, Captain Talljet and Lii left Gatshira lying dead on the floor of his office and exited the building?"

"Yes."

"I have no further questions." Jir remained standing, a signal he was not finished, while DveKrit was lead back to his cell.

Jir turned to Smig who rose in the courtroom. "Your Honors, the Defense would like to submit a Verified Mseian Police Report that states the victim was found seated in a chair in his office and had been strangled to death." Jir paused while Smig handed up one data chip. "I would also like to submit another Verified Mseian Police Report that states the victim was shot to death on the steps of his office building." Smig handed up another chip. "I would further like to submit one last Verified Mseian Police Report that the victim drowned and fished up out of the harbor three days before there is any record of Captain Talljet even arriving on Fobda." Jir watched Smig return to his seat while he waited.

"The Court will take these conflicting verified reports under its consideration," Lord Suqiet growled. "Counsel, if you had these reports, you had no need to waste this Court's time in cross examination of that witness."

"I request the Court disregard the witness and his testimony as unreliable and now unverifiable." Jir said with a touch too much timing.

"SaJir, if you waste this Court's time discrediting witnesses in cross examination that are already discredited otherwise, I will forbid or severely limit your cross examination time." Lord Suqiet said evenly.

"Yes, sir." Jir cursed his inner prima donna and hoped he looked 'serious' enough. "In that case, in light of these new and conflicting Mseian Police Reports, I request that the Court disregard the next witness, Lii, as his testimony was only a corroboration of DveKrit's."

"No. We will hear the witness. Call him." Lord Suqiet turned to the bailiff.

Lapham rose: "Your Honor, we'd like a thirty minute recess."

"No. Call your witness. Now." Only those that knew Lord Suqiet well could tell he was irritated.

"Prosecution calls Lii," Lapham said dully. He was shocked he couldn't get a recess.

A tall swarthy VrsiliCheq swaggered into the witness box, stated his name was Lii and affirmed his understanding of the Federation's perjury law.

"Please repeat the contents of your sworn statement for the record, Lii," Lapham asked once his witness was settled.

"I came in looking for Gatshira and I saw Hobie break his neck. Hobie let him fall to the floor and was standing over his body when I came in. DveKrit was there and we all three left together." The VrsiliCheq cast a furtive glance at Hobie, who was looking on with mild interest.

"No further questions, your Honor." Lapham hastily sat back down.

"Defense." Lord Suqiet looked at Jir.