PART 21

"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.

PART 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 31

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