AFTER THE RESCUE

By Karmen Ghia

Part III

CONCERNING LONG AGO EVENTS ON MAGIDGRIA

The first time Commodore KzostGhet of the Klingon Empire laid eyes on Maja of the Talljet Monastery of the Romulan Empire, he was sitting in a cafe in downtown Zoltir, on the wretched planet of Magidrian, dying of boredom - his usual occupation on this planet. Commodore Ghet was minding his own business, watching commerce in the bazaar and Maja was stealing Poblas (a Mage fruit deeply loathed by Klingons) and not doing very well at it. Everytime the little creature (they had not been introduced yet) got close to nabbing a Pobla, he found the vendor's eye on him and backed off. Wise; Zoltir vendors had few qualms about killing street boys that annoyed them.

The little creature was interesting: he had vulcanoid features topped by an unruly mop of dusty black curls. Huge brown eyes beneath a wide forehead and a pointed chin. He was wraith thin but fairly clean and looked, at a distance, healthy so he must live somewhere, deduced the Klingon.

'Further,' thought Kzost, 'I've seen him before, stealing in this very bazaar and he's good at it. Quick as lightening and smart, often creating a diversion. Going after Poblas is new and he hasn't got the hang of it yet. Last time he was stealing paper.

Kzost had thought it odd for a street boy to steal anything he couldn't eat but this was an odd planet. He knew, he was the Governor of the Klingon Colony here.

Kzost loathed the assignment, it was punishment for being more successful than a certain member of the Yhet clan. Magidrian was a strange planet. Hot, dusty, mountainous. Its people lived in fortified settlements in the mountains and seldom had any contact with those trying to civilize them. The party of soldiers Kzost had sent to the largest settlement to bring the leaders down to Zoltir by force had returned with its tail between its legs. They had come within sight of the keep when they were all struck down with blinding headaches and vomiting.

Unimpressed, Kzost had gone himself with another party and had exactly the same humiliating experience. He had given serious thought to going up to his orbiting ship and simply knocking the fortress off the mountainside. He was still debating this plan when, several days later, in this very cafe, a tall, beautiful Mage in a pale gray robe had joined him at his table. Kzost was taken aback by this, the Mage did not approach strangers and obviously didn't allow strangers to approach them.

"What did you want the other day?" the Mage bluntly asked in Klingon.

"What d'ya mean?" parried the wary Klingon.

The Mage simply stared at him. Kzost realized he was had: "I want to talk to your leaders. There are agreements to be made, claims to be settled, many things to discuss."

"This is of no interest to us."

Kzost was annoyed by this answer.

"Why not?" he snarled.

"We do not care what you do here until you leave so there is no point in involving ourselves with you."

"And what makes you think you can make us leave?" Kzost asked, ignoring the memory of his retreat from the mountain keep.

The Mage had humanoid features of such purity and symmetry he projected a strange serenity. What he was actually doing was allowing all the Klingon's psychic energy to wash over him, analyzing it, categorize it, file it and project it back. The Mage couldn't speak Klingon but he could glean enough from the object of his scrutiny to communicate. He looked over the bazaar. It was full of off-worlders that had come in the wake of these latest settlers, to cater to their needs and wants. Soon, they would all be gone and it would be as if they never were.

"We will not make you leave; you will decide to go yourselves."

"Why's that?" Kzost blustered but he was feeling shaken by the Mage's calm. His liver was bothering him into the bargain.

"What have you found here that you want badly enough to stay?" The Mage gazed peacefully into his eyes.

'Nothing,' thought Kzost. 'Absolutely nothing.' He looked out at the bazaar. He felt the Mage's hand take hold of his wrist. He swung round for a fight but stopped when the grip tightened.

'These Mage are strong bastards,' he thought. Kzost looked into the Mage's eyes and then began to feel physically better, as if all his aches and pains and over indulgence in food and drink were being washed away.

The Mage let him go.

"You don't want to be here, Klingon. That is sensible since there is nothing here for you but annoyance." The Mage was thoughtful. "You do," he continued, "have some things to do here before you leave and you will not leave until they are done."

"And what are these things?" Kzost sneered, he hated prophets.

"You will know them after you've done them." The Mage rose.

"Very helpful. By the way, how did you know I'd be here? Are your spies everywhere?"

The Mage smiled; it was a kind and amused smile but sent chills down Kzost's back anyway.

"I remembered yesterday that I would find you here today. As I remember now that you will soon meet someone who will change your life for the better. You will also be rid of what you now think is a thorn in your side but when it is lost you will weep with grief."

Kzost stood, ready to attack. The Mage was calm.

"You are a good man, KzostGhet, and this will bring you some consolation in your life whether you want it or not." He walked into the crowd and disappeared.

Kzost had been thinking on this when he noticed the little creature.

'If the Mage can see the future... ,' he was thinking for the nth time. He frowned. He could never get beyond that. Did he want to know the future? No, not really. Would it be a blessing or curse? He couldn't see that this power, if they had it, was doing the Mage any good. But that was because he never saw the Mage, they kept so completely to themselves. Except for a few decrepit specimens that stayed drugged and prowled the streets late at night.

'Perhaps that's what knowing the future does to some of them,' he mused. That and having no women. At least, none that he could find. He truly hated this planet.

And so, to take his mind off of all this, he decided to give the little creature a hand. Kzost rose up, knocking his table over and grabbed one of the Xochian waiters by the lapel.

"THIS IS THE WORST TEA I'VE HAD IN MY LIFE" he roared, dragging the poor man to the edge of the bazaar. He winked at the little creature whose big eyes got even bigger.

"I'll get you ANOTHER" the waiter squeaked.

"YOU'RE TOO FUCKING LATE" and he flung the poor man into the poblas stand, sending fruit rolling in all directions. He caught a flying glimpse of the little creature filling his raggedy shirt and flashing him a killer smile before darting away in the confusion.

Kzost smiled himself, leaned down and set the waiter on his feet.

"Really, waiter, you must be more careful," he drawled to the confused being before him. "And you, vendor," he turned to another confused being. "Take this," he tossed some coins on the ground, at least twice the cost of what Maja had stolen. "And get your stand fixed. It falls over too easily."

He paid his bill, gave the waiter a generous tip and strolled off with a lighter heart.

The waiter and vendor stared after him and shook their heads. Klingons. What can you do?

Someone else had witnessed the whole scene and was drawing a different conclusion.

A Vulcan expatriate named Voren had watched the entire episode from across the bazaar and had found it fascinating. Allegedly a linguist, possibly a spy but in truth something more unusual - he was simply a Vulcan who couldn't stand living in the confines of Surakian Vulcan culture. So he roamed from planet to planet, occasionally studying the local languages and writing monographs on them but mostly just being and watching life go by. This was almost unheard of in Vulcans, they seldom left their planet or their culture or if they did they dragged it along with them, the culture, that is.

Klingons, on the other hand, could not wait to get out of Klingon culture. Unless one were a member of the ruling families there, the Haats or the Yhets, one's prospects on the Klingon homeworld were mediocre, if not simply bad. The Haats and the Yhets fought over who controlled the Imperial clan, the Tzaj, and reaped considerable rewards from this struggle. The Tzaj clan played both ends against the middle with varying degrees of success. For Klingons not of these clans, life on the homeworld was stifling. This fact engendered a powerful desire in sensible Klingons to get as far away from home as possible and get as much of whatever they wanted elsewhere. As they say, it's a big galaxy, go out there and get some of it.

Voren, SaVoren being his full family name, felt a certain sympathy for the Klingons and not the usual Vulcan aversion. However, like all smart Vulcans he usually steered clear of them as the Klingons were still rather touchy that the Vul/Klong war was fought to a standstill. There were among the Klingons those who would like to finish it - one way or another.

He was therefore somewhat puzzled by Governor Kzost's behavior: why help the street boy steal when he could buy the entire bazaar for him? Illogical and an inefficient use of time and energy. Voren would have like to have discussed it with the Governor but he had no way to approach him. So he mused about it to himself while trying to overhear two vendors arguing in the Patois.

The Vulcan was trying to make sense out of a creole language that he'd been hearing in bazaars for the past 15 years. It seemed to be spoken by traders mainly and spread due to necessity - for a common barter code and for secrecy. Voren had only observed it spoken by telepathic and empathic species. He had so far only catalogued a few words, such as 'cheq' for half, 'oli' for little, 'olo' for big or bigger, 'Rom' for Romulan or really any vulcanoid, 'Klong' for Klingon, 'Mage' for Magidrian, 'Ter' or 'Hmu' for any humanoid that was not a Mage, and a very strange expression: 'hochofedra' which meant any number of things like 'let's try it', 'don't try it', 'oh well', 'I'll think about it (but not much)' and is always accompanied by a shrug. It was very challenging because verbalizations were modified by gestures, intonation and the subject. And were subject to change if the object of his observations decided Voren was understanding too much. Being a telepathic language, speakers of some acquaintance sometimes dispensed with forms and merely keened at each other to mark the duration of the communication. This made family groups and tribes impossible to study.

Magidrian appeared to be the source of the Patois. None of Voren's informants knew why; its origin on the planet was shrouded in mystery. The real reason for this was not very interesting to the Magidrians. However, it was significant for their visitors and the children they had with these visitors.

The Mage had developed a sophisticated culture in the dim past, had space traveled, time traveled and unraveled the mysteries of the universe and from this they had concluded two things: There is no such thing as time, and only the tiny portion of beings in the universe that did not know this came to Magidria (and, by the way, some of them were interesting enough to breed with when the retro urge to assume a physical manifestation took this or that Mage).

Being long-lived in bodies when they chose to be so and able to see into the future because time had no boundaries for them, the Mage had withdrawn to their mountains to contemplate the oneness of the universe and ignore into nonexistence the successive waves of aliens who came to civilize them, gave up and left in a huff. Apparently the telepathic energy was so intense on the planet itself that the Patois had developed along two lines: the first, being that telepaths need not use the entire word so words from various languages were truncated, such as cheq which in Bosq would be tolmacheqa for half of something. The second, being that the ability to see part of the future (as beings such as Hmus, Roms and Klongs understand it) is enhanced over a period of residence. Hence Kzost's boredom, Voren's continuous logical outcomes and the survival of the abandoned Talljet monks on the hill that should have starved long ago but didn't because somehow they knew where the next meager meal would be found. This ability to see into the short term future also meant that the listener already knew what the speaker was going to say and the vocalization and gesture were merely a formality.

When the speakers and listeners finally left Magidria in despair of ever making sense of the Mage or making a profit, the prophetic ability was lost (unless they are genetically half Mage and then it's only diminished) but the language code remained and had evolved over the centuries as the Magidrian Patois. Used by nomads, outcasts, traders, pirates, artists, slaves - anyone with telepathic ability and a need to communicate discreetly with diverse groups.

The Mage themselves could care less what aliens took from their planet when they left as long as they left eventually.

And now, because the Klingon Kzost and his Bird of Prey could do some serious material damage before leaving, the Mage found they could not ignore the current residents of Zoltin any longer. A council was held and it was decided that the monks the Roms had left behind were harmless, the Terrans were mostly harmless, the traders in the bazaar were useful and harmless but the Klingons were an unknown. Therefore, one of their number went into the chaos of being, sought out the Klingon Kzost and learned what was needed: Klingons - mostly harmless unless you startle them, they, like the Hmus and Roms, would kill each other before they would get to the Mage. And if they wished to blast some landscape, it was not important. There was no thing of importance in the material plane for the Mage. So they went back to ignoring the aliens, all of them, knowing that eventually they would leave and wonder why they ever wanted to be on Magidria in the first place. All except the Talljet monks, who would leave to find their god.

Voren, however, did not know all this and was merely trying to decode a language he couldn't understand. He was also stuck there, no ships he could get passage on were coming or going due to a war in the Aliterius system. So he had the leisure to contemplate illogical Klingon behavior.

He recalled seeing the street boy before, in this bazaar with another boy, stealing food. He had marveled at their ability. He now wondered if the little creature had enough sense to realize he had a potential patron in the Klingon and to exploit it.

'We shall see,' the Vulcan thought, 'we shall see.'

* * *

Several days later, Kzost found himself sitting in the same cafe waiting for something and he hated it. It was the worst part of life on this planet, knowing that something was going to happen and finding yourself waiting for it. He hated it almost as much as he hated the monks on the hill.

There they were, the symbol of Romulan colonization, dug in and pre-dating the Klingons by ten years. It was an affront to Klingons that the Roms sent their priests to colonize and the Klingons sent their soldiers. The Klingon religious establishment clucked their collective tongue about this but it never occurred to them, in those days, that they might send their priests to civilize the native populations. The Church was too busy influencing events at court to be bothered with off-world matters.

Kzost did not really care, he knew the monks were harmless, but he was nagged by Hierophant Kiba to get rid of them. They represented the Hierophant's worst nightmare: pagan Roms. So Kzost assured the Hierophant that the pagan Roms were under close surveillance and action would be taken at the first available moment. He'd been saying this for a year, perhaps soon he'd believe it himself.

So he sat waiting for whatever it was and was rewarded for his patience. The little creature marched up to his table and sat opposite him.

They eyed each other. The boy waved his hand at the Poblas vendor and said, in Standard: "Thank you."

"You are welcome," Kzost muttered in Standard, trying to hide his surprise that a MageCheq street boy knew two Standard words.

The waiter rushed over, horrified to see a street boy annoying the Governor and was shaken like a rag doll by the same Governor when he tried to remove the aforementioned offending street boy, who looked calmly on.

"Bring whatever street boys like to eat and drink, waiter," Kzost ordered when he'd finished shaking him. The waiter staggered off, wondering how soon he could get off this planet.

"I am KzostGhet," he said in Romulan, quietly, not wanting to be overheard.

"I am Maja," the boy answered in careful Rom, as if he were just learning it.

'All Roms are named Maja,' thought Kzost.

The waiter put a slice of cake and some tea in front of Maja. Maja looked at the cake for a moment as if measuring it, cut off what appeared to be a fourth and devoured it. He wrapped the rest in a napkin and put it in his lap. He sipped some tea and smiled at the Klingon.

The Klingon was, at that moment, trying to understand a series of emotions he'd never previously experienced because he'd never fallen in love before. Like most Klingons, he didn't know you could fall in love all at once with a street boy named Maja. It was not an idea covered in even the best Klingon education. So Kzost was rather pleasantly confused and tried to cover it by calling the long-suffering waiter: "Bring the entire cake and a container."

Maja looked into the box and appeared to like what he saw. He unwrapped the first piece of cake and stuffed the whole thing into his mouth, smiling at the Klingon all the while, enjoying himself thoroughly. He sipped some tea, stood and picked up the cake container. He waved at the table and said: "Thank you" again, in Standard, this time with a little bow.

'Adorable.' Kzost was as enchanted as Klingons get. "You are welcome," he said in Standard and then added in Rom, "Where do you live?"

Maja thought about this for a moment and then jerked his chin at the Talljet monastery on the hill. He darted down the road, heading for home. Kzost put his chin in his hand. 'Of all the places for you to live, why must you live with those pagan Roms?'

"You look troubled, Klingon." Kzost looked up sharply as words spoken in Klingonese with a Vulcan accent will cause Klingons to look up.

"Who are you?"

"SaVoren."

"What do you want?"

"To know in what language that street boy spoke to you."

"Why?"

"Because I heard him speaking Patois yesterday." The Vulcan waited.

"We spoke Standard." Kzost considered that to be enough truth for this conversation.

"How can he know Standard?"

"He knows how to say 'thank you'" Kzost rose, paid and left the Vulcan in deep thought.

SaVoren had a theory that the Mage could read language telepathically from whomever was in their vicinity. He'd noticed the boy near two of the Terrans in the bazaar yesterday. Had he gleaned what he needed? However, if his theory was correct, why hadn't he spoken Klingonese to Kzost?

There were two reasons why Maja spoke Standard and Rom to Kzost: First, the linguistic concept of thanks in Klingonese is so complex that he could not figure it out in Kzost's telefield so was forced to use the words he'd picked up from the little pink slugs (bazaar slang for Terrans) and second, Kzost spoke to him in Rom and it would be impolite not to answer in Rom.

SaVoren stood puzzling over this, so lost in thought he did not see Kzost return until the Klingon was standing on top of him.

"I need you," he said to the astonished Vulcan.

* * *

"Oh the boy? Don't you mean the boys? There are four of them: Hobie, Jir, Maja and Ling. We found them living at the bottom of our garden two years ago. Too young to be out like that and winter coming so we moved them in. Although we can hardly feed ourselves, they haven't been a drain on the resources, in fact little Maja brought me a very small piece of very good cake yesterday. No idea where he got it. Why are you asking about them? Have they done something?"

Father Polmira, the abbot, leaned back in his chair, exhausted by the effort of speaking Klingonese and wondering why this Rom preferred to speak it (but he was too polite to ask). A strange life, this one we live now.

"No. I've just noticed one of them here and there and wondered how he came to live here." Voren stood, thankful he and the old man had a common language. "Where did you learn your Klingonese?"

"When I was a youth, Klingon was a mandatory language because the Roms and Klongs were going to rule the galaxy together in the RomKlong Empire. Since then there have been two Rom/Klong wars, a Rom princess disgraced and an heir rejected. But I can still decline Klingon nouns and rather enjoy Klingon folk tales. Politics does not change knowledge and vice versa."

Voren nodded, returned the abbot's bow and left.

* * *

"They have no family, the monks took them in and no one gets enough to eat there," Voren said bluntly to the Klingon in Klingonese - an excellent language for bluntness.

Kzost was silent.

"There are four," the Vulcan continued, "Hobie, Jir, Maja and Ling. I don't know the ages. I've seen your boy..."

"Maja."

"... Maja, in the bazaar with an older boy but I don't know if it was Hobie or Jir."

Kzost was lost in thought. He looked up: "Thank you," he said in Standard and walked away.

The next day he arranged for a sack of tolin grain and a sack of dried mzotheim bean meal to be delivered anonymously to the monastery on a weekly basis.

Kzost continued to watch Maja from the cafe. Sometimes Maja would sit with him and eat cake, always taking three-fourths home to his brothers. Occasionally Kzost would speak briefly to the Vulcan, who told him that upon revisiting the abbot with a sack of tolin grain as a gift, the abbot told him that god was leaving sacks of grain and meal in their garden every week. How kind of Voren to bring yet another sack of grain, very helpful with winter coming on and four growing boys to feed.

Although he still hated the planet, Kzost was more content to be stuck there as long as he could sit in his cafe and watch Maja Talljet, as he had come to think of him, live.

* * *

Voren found himself more interested in the doings of the children from the Talljet monastery than he wanted to be. He kept an eye on the older ones, Hobie, Jir and Maja when they were in the bazaar. He saw them occasionally bring little Ling to see the wonders of commerce but seldom because he was still very young. He watched them haggle for what they had money for, which was little, mainly the change Kzost gave Maja when they met, and steal what they could not buy.

'Fleet,' Voren thought with admiration, staying out of their eyeline so as to avoid detection. 'And smart.'

Until one day Voren saw Maja get caught stealing a book of paper. The trader had laid open the child's back with three blows from an animal whip before he could intervene. Maja was still clutching his prize when Voren gathered him up, bleeding and unconscious, the child had fainted after the first blow. The Vulcan ran out of the bazaar and to the Star Fleet Scientific Mission #86-543 where he knew there were doctors. He met Dr. MacQuarrie half way there and they ran the rest of the way together. He did not notice the oldest of the four boys, Hobie, following them as unobtrusively as a shadow.

James MacQuarrie had seldom seen injured children in his line of work but it was obvious the little boy was badly hurt. The lash marks were all the way across the little back and so deep he could see traces of pale bone through the turquoise blood. They would be excruciating for a grown man, no wonder the child had fainted at the first whip fall.

"What kinda monster beats a child like this?" he raged at Voren.

"One that no longer wishes the child to live, I suspect," Voren answered dryly, examining MacQuarrie's shocked face. "It was the trader's intention to kill Maja for stealing from him. That's what happens here." 'And most elsewhere outside the Federation,' he added silently.

Dr. Romsky held the door for them. "I saw you coming. Paul is scrubbed and waiting in the lab. Do you know what drugs we can use for the pain?" he asked, following them into the building. "What's that book in his hands?" He did not see the shadow drift round the building, peeking into the windows along the group's progress.

Voren laid Maja on a long white table and stepped back as Paul Duvallier moved forward to examine and clean the wounds. The doctors could not get the book out of Maja's hands so they left it.

Dr. Duvallier would later tell his colleagues on Terra that they learned almost nothing of Magidrian physiology on that mission because they never examined one. Maja was a close as they got. This being the case and not knowing what else to do, Duvallier, MacQuarrie and Romsky simply washed the dirt out of the furrows in Maja's back with purified water, applied pressure until the bleeding stopped and taped the cuts together with a sterile adhesive tape. Maja did not know it at the time but three of the Federation's foremost scientific minds were helpless to do more for him than clean his wounds and hope he did not die of shock. After scanning to ascertain that he had no internal injuries and that his unconsciousness was normal, the offworlders left him to sleep in peace for a moment while they conferred on his future treatment.

Hobie broke the window pane to get in. He placed his hands on Maja's back and was dismayed that the cuts did not disappear completely but simply turned to ugly teal scars. Nevertheless, the healing energy woke Maja enough for Hobie to get him out the window and away from the strange white place.

Finding their patient gone, the Terran doctors turned helplessly to Voren, who promised them he would do his best to find the child.

"Does the little one have a name?" MacQuarrie asked Voren at the door.

"Yes," the Vulcan turned to go.

MacQuarrie, unused to Vulcans, ran after him when he realized that was all the answer that particular question would elicit.

"Well, sir," he said, catching up to Voren. "I meant what is the child's name?"

"Maja," Voren said simply and continued up the hill to the monastery.

'Maja,' MacQuarrie mused on his way back to the lab, 'a very pretty name indeed.'

Half way there a huge Klingon in full battle dress lifted him off the ground by his lapels.

"WHERE IS MAJA?!"

* * *

"When I arrived at the monastery and explained the situation, Father Polmira showed me where the Talljets sleep and there was Maja, sleeping as if nothing had happened to him. Hobie told me he'd taken Maja away from the lab because he didn't know those 'little pink slugs,' referring to the Terrans, and he could see that, even though they were trying to help, they were useless." Voren paused in his grammatically correct Klingonese to sip the tea the Xochian waiter placed in front of him.

"May I bring you something else, sir?" the waiter queried politely.

"NOOOOOOOO!" Kzost snarled and chased him off with a scowl.

"Perhaps later," Voren called after his fellow vulcanoid. "At any rate," he continued, "I checked Maja's back and it was 85% healed. He will bear the scars for the rest of his life ....."

Kzost thought back on his healing encounter with the gray-robed Mage, wondering how empaths, even half empaths, could be scarred.

"... but apparently will survive. I saw him in the bazaar later, drawing on the pad he stole from the vendor." 'The one that almost killed him,' Voren reminded himself. "Hobie was keeping watch nearby. How did you hear about it so quickly?" he added.

"One of my men saw it happen," Kzost said. "And followed you to the Terran's laboratory. It was wise of you to take him there, Vulcan. My man thought he was dead."

"I thought he might die, there was very little the doctors could do for him, they know so little about these people."

"The Mage or the mongrel street urchins? If they want to learn something, they might start studying and treating the worst of the flotsam and jetsam in the bazaar instead of stepping over it everyday."

"The Klingons might do the same."

"Bah! Real Klingons confine their charity to stupid street boys named Maja."

"Hardly stupid, Commodore."

"Very stupid, Vulcan, I'd give Maja the money for anything he wanted in the bazaar but he never wants things for himself. Last time we went shopping it was all for his brothers and a little box of colored chalks for him. Oh and a warm shawl for Father Polmira. He steals because he likes the challenge of it. Hence, he is stupid." Kzost drank some tea and flagged the waiter, who moved cautiously to his side. "What will you have, Voren? You must accept my hospitality because you have saved my Maja and my Klingon heart would be broken if he were dead."

'And every trader in the bazaar would also be dead,' Voren thought, regretting he'd told Kzost which trader had attacked Maja. The Klingon had simply excused himself, found the trader and strangled him before his colleagues as a warning that Maja and his brothers were not to be touched.

Voren accepted a slice of the cake Maja liked so much and said good-bye, explaining that he wished to visit Father Polmira and the Talljets.

Kzost screamed for the waiter to pack up all the cake he had and give it to the Vulcan.

Voren thought this was very considerate of the Klingon in a noisy sort of way and went up the hill to the monastery. Maja and Jir were out but he had a nice chat with Father Polmira, fed Ling some cake and had a few words with Hobie, who was dusting the altar.

"No more stealing in the bazaar for Maja or any of you, Hobie, I cannot be sure to be there next time."

Hobie nodded.

"The Klingon or I will buy you and your brothers what you need there."

Hobie nodded.

"Are you understanding me, Hobie?"

Hobie nodded.

"Well. Good." Voren did not have much experience with children so he could only hope what he said had penetrated. "Then, good-bye, Hobie." He turned to go and almost missed Hobie's farewell.

"Godspeed, Rom. Thank you."

* * *

"You know!" Maja was struggling to make himself understood in Standard to Dr. Castaris at the lab. "The Rom that brought me here when I was hurt."

"A Rom?" Castaris was stunned by the child's ability in Standard. "What Rom?"

"The Rom that brought me here when I was hurt!" Maja wondered if all little pink slugs were this stupid.

Jir watched from the shadows, amused and wary at the same time.

"You were hurt?" Castairs was starting to snap out of it. "Are you the boy that was hurt?"

"YES!" Maja said, exasperated. "Yes, I was hurt and the Rom brought me here. I want you to give him this for me." He shoved the smudged book of paper he'd stolen at Castairs. Every page now had a Maja drawing on it; the bazaar, the monastery, his brothers, the monks, the Klingons, the brothels, the Terran's laboratory, some ruins, etc. - all the familiar people, places and things in Zoltir Maja had seen in his short life.

Castairs took the book and promised he would give it to the right person.

Maja flung a 'thank you' over his shoulder and darted away with Jir. It was nearly dinnertime in the Monastery and they were hungry.

Castairs watched them disappear into the twilight and took the book to his desk. He spent the rest of the evening engrossed in it and marveling that a child could draw so well. The next day, with MacQuarrie's help, he found Voren in the bazaar and gave him the book.

Voren showed it to Kzost, who decided not to be too jealous of Maja's gift to the Vulcan. After all, Maja was still alive to give such gifts thanks to this Vulcan. Maja eventually gave Kzost a bigger and better book of drawings with colors when he finally figured out that the old Klingon wanted one.

Maja's back healed but the scars remained in spite of Jir and Hobie's best efforts to heal them.

Life rolled on peacefully for everyone until the twin devils of greed and cruelty took possession of Major KrisaBhign of the Magidrian garrison.

* * *

Kzost strongly discouraged slavers from visiting the Klingon controlled areas of Magidrian. Of the old school, Kzost accepted the ancient tradition of slavery on Klingon as normal and natural and all other forms as barbaric.

The more modern school of thought, as represented by Major Krisa, was that money was money and selling native children into slavery was just another form of commerce. The unfortunate children his calculating eye fell upon were Hobie and Jir, who had, even by this time, grown into astonishing beauties.

Krisa sent a holopic of them to a Cisivdrian slaver named Mxt with whom he'd done some business before. A price was negotiated and a date of delivery set. The slaver himself would come to Magidrian to collect the goods if they proved as fine as their pics represented them.

The cruel demon in Krisa prompted him, on the night of the delivery, to burn the monastery to the ground and murder all the monks as a diversion for kidnapping Hobie and Jir. He knew he would be praised for this pious act against the pagan Roms by the Hierophant Kiba and would meet no resistance from Commodore Kzost. They were only pagan Roms and street boys so who cared what happened to them?

On the night of the attack, the elder Talljets had fought like mad things but were subdued by superior Klingon strength but gently so as not to damage the merchandise. In the confusion, Maja slipped away. Ling could not be pried off Jir so Krisa simply took him along to a cell in the garrison annex to await the slaver. It is unknown whether Maja saw the monks and Father Polmira murdered; he refuses to discuss it.

Maja flew through the night streets to Kzost's heavily guarded mansion. Tracking the old Klingon by his shadow, Maja slipped through a fence, eluded the guards and climbed a tree to get into Kzost's bedroom. He threw himself on the sleeping Klingon and pounded on his face with his little fists until the giant awoke.

Kzost claims it was Maja's tears that woke him, each one was like a death wail on his skin. He rolled the child under him and looked into his eyes, aroused in spite of his best intentions.

"Maja?"

"Help me, Klingon, help me, for god's sake. Klingons took my brothers," Maja sobbed.

Kzost rose to his feet and looked out at the smoldering ruins of the monastery. A chill ran up his spine. He flung on some clothes and weapons, calling for his escort, and slung Maja on one hip.

"Took them where, Maja? Show me." He carried Maja down the stairs and into a vehicle. They followed the trail Maja, his eyes looking inward, showed them and they soon stopped before a decrepit building used by the garrison to store surplus furniture and confine drunken corporals.

Maja guided Kzost to the cell area where Krisa was just collecting his price for Hobie and Jir, plus a bonus for such quality goods, from Mxt.

"Major Krisa," Kzost said menacingly and let Maja down. "Why are these children here?"

Maja shoved the slaver out of his way ran into the cell where his brothers huddled in a corner. Except for Ling, who was fortunately sound asleep.

"I have taken them into protective custody while the pagan Roms are excised from this planet," Krisa said pompously, knowing Kzost's feelings about offworld slavery.

Kzost looked Hobie in the eye and Hobie swung his eyes up to the slaver.

"And who is this person?" Kzost asked, looking at Mxt.

There was a long awkward silence.

"Ah," Kzost continued after a moment. "Well, I have had an interest in the welfare of these children for some time now so, I thank you, Krisa, I will take them into my own 'protective custody.' So get the fuck out of the way, Major."

Krisa didn't move; he really needed the money from this sale and killing the Commodore, his escort, Maja, Ling, the Talljet monks, really anyone, seemed reasonable to him at the moment.

As if sensing Krisa's thought, Kzost drew his blaster and killed him as his escort killed Krisa's men. He then turned the weapon on the slaver and asked his business here.

"Ummmm," Mxt said, watching his 'goods' hop over Krisa's body and huddle behind Kzost.

"Slaver," whispered Hobie.

"A slaver, well, what an interesting line of work. And just what did you pay Krisa for these three."

The slaver told Kzost that it was only for the older two and named a huge sum.

"And you would get four times that on Orion just for one of them. Perhaps five times that for one with a little special training, no?"

The slaver did not deny it.

"And had you paid Krisa yet?"

The slaver said yes.

"Then go and don't come back. Tell your slaver scum friends to stay the fuck off Magidrian or I'll kill them," Kzost growled, "slowly," he added.

"My money, I want .."

"You get to leave here with your life, slaver," Kzost said, sighting down his blaster at the slaver's right shoulder. "Go, now or you might be leaving one or two limbs behind."

The slaver took this seriously and scurried out.

Kzost turned Krisa's body over with his foot and kicked at the uniform pockets until he found the bag of dilithium crystals. He put it in his own pocket and ushered the children out of the shed.

"Make sure the bodies aren't found," he murmured to the leader of his escort and trusted friend, Captain KhatanyaDhin, as he shepherded the Talljets to his car.

Inside the car, the children huddled around Kzost as much for warmth as for the security they felt next to his huge Klingon body. For the rest of their lives the Talljets would associate rescue, safety and security with the smell of big Klingon males.

* * *

SaVoren and the Terran doctors found no one to save at the Talljet monastery. Castaris divided his doctors into two groups: one stayed at the monastery to bury the monks and in hopes that the boys would come out from hiding and the other went into town to look for them. The doctors had grown quite fond of the Talljets as they had come to call Hobie, Jir, Maja and Ling.

Seeing the monks' bodies would be properly disposed of, Voren went straight to Kzost's mansion and had an argument with the Klingon on gate duty.

"Will you just tell Commodore Kzost that I want to know if he knows where the Talljets are," Voren patiently explained for the fifth time. "Please," he added.

"Commodore Kzost is not to be disturbed."

"He will want to be disturbed by this," Voren insisted.

"Commodore Kzost is not to be disturbed."

Voren almost despaired. "Look, this is very important. I must speak to Commodore Kzost this instant."

"Commodore Kzost is not to be disturbed."

Even Voren's Vulcan patience had reached its limit.

"Is there a problem here, Ensign?" Khatanya strolled up to the gate.

"This Rom wants to see Commodore Kzost and can't understand 'No,' sir," the sluggard ensign replied.

Khatanya looked Voren over. "I've seen you but I don't know you. What's your business here?"

"I want to know if Kzost knows where the Talljets are," Voren said again.

"Commodore Kzost is not ...," the ensign began.

"Yes, yes, we know, Ensign, we know," Khatanya cut him off and turned to Voren. "Well, you look harmless; come up to the house with me." He waved the gate open and the Vulcan to his side.

They walked up to the house in silence. Khatanya led the Vulcan inside and up a flight of stairs. He asked him to wait outside a heavily guarded door and had a few words with someone inside. Khatanya stuck his head out and gestured Voren to enter.

Kzost was pacing in front of a fire in what Voren assumed was the Klingon's extravagant bedroom. Fur rugs, a huge curtained bed, wall hangings, paintings and massive intricately carved furniture were arranged with a pleasing Vulcanesque simplicity. But Voren had things other than decor on his mind.

"Do you know where the Talljet boys are?" he asked with Vulcan bluntness.

"They're taking a bath," Kzost answered, equally blunt. "In there," he gestured to the bathroom behind his guest. "Brandy, Vulcan? You look like shit."

"Yes, I will," Voren said, distracted by Hobie standing at the bathroom door, wrapped in a towel. Voren stepped nearer to look into the child's haunted eyes. "What happened, Hobie?"

Hobie looked at Kzost, who nodded and shrugged at the same time.

"Some Klingons came and took us," Hobie said awkwardly in Klingon. "They took me and Jir and Ling. Maja got away. Later, Maja brought Kzost and we came here." Sensing Kzost would not want Voren to know about it, Hobie omitted the violence he and his brothers had witnessed.

Voren sipped his brandy as he waited for Hobie to continue and said, "I see" when the boy did not continue.

"Are they dead?" Hobie asked at length. "Father Polmira and the monks? Are they dead?"

"Yes, Hobie, they're dead," Voren said quietly.

Hobie looked at the carpet for a moment to master himself. He had not cried in a long time, he had almost forgotten how to do it, but he thought he might cry for those old men. But later; there were more important things to do now.

"Then the bodies must be ...," he began.

"The Terrans are burying them," Voren interrupted. "Tomorrow I'll take you and show you."

Hobie nodded and turned back into the bathroom.

"Can you keep them here tonight, Kzost?" Voren asked, finishing his brandy and accepting another.

"That was my intention, Vulcan," Kzost said, pouring for him. "What did you find at the monastery?"

"Slaughter," Voren said flatly, looking the Klingon in the eye.

"I didn't do it, Voren," Kzost calmly assured him.

"No, I did not think so. Who did?"

"Someone who was suddenly called away on urgent business," Kzost rumbled, exchanging looks with Khatanya, who echoed 'very urgent business.'

"I'm sorry about those old men," Kzost continued. "They were ... harmless ... and they were looking after the Talljets and Maja liked them, he told me that once. He thought they were funny - they made him laugh." Kzost paused, wondering what would ever make Maja laugh again. He further wondered what exactly he was going to do with these four half Mage children tomorrow. This had not occurred to him in the rush of the evening.

They were distracted by two Klingons bearing a mattress and blankets. Khatanya directed them to put it all near the fire.

"Look, Voren," Kzost said, suddenly feeling how tired he was. "I'll keep the Talljets tonight. They can make a nest over there and they'll be safe here, I promise you. For us, for now - will you please come back in the morning when we can discuss the future or whatever you like."

The Vulcan hesitated, where would he put the children even if he could get them out of here? Also, he trusted Kzost, if not the Klingons around him and, more importantly, the Talljets trusted Kzost.

"Yes, I'll return in the morning," Voren said, tired himself and wanting to tell the Terrans to stop looking for the children. "I've promised Hobie I'd take him and his brothers to see how the monks are buried so I will come early."

"I shall await you, Vulcan," Kzost said suavely.

Voren bowed and left him, musing on how the Klingon would react to the knowledge that those are some of the sexiest words a Vulcan could hear.

"I'll leave word you're to be admitted," Khatanya told him at the gate. "If you have any problems give the guard this." He handed Voren his card. "And have them find me; I'll be around. Night, Vulcan." The Captain turned and strode up the path, his cape swinging behind him.

Voren put the card in his pocket and wondered yet again what a bizarre combination of fierceness and tenderness this particular group of Klingons was. He dismissed this idle speculation and walked into the night to find the searching Terrans.

~

"See if you can get the blood out of these rags," Kzost said, handing the Talljets' clothes to his valet. "Or scare up some replacements."

The valet looked dubious of both prospects but took the rags and withdrew.

'No shame in being splashed with the blood of your enemies,' Kzost thought in a pragmatic Klingon fashion. Nevertheless, he hoped the Talljets were not upset by what they saw this evening - they were rather sheltered in the monastery.

'Which has burned to the ground and everyone is dead so where the hell will they live now?' He was frowning in thought when the Talljets wandered out, wrapped in towels.

"Where're our clothes, Klingon?" Hobie asked politely.

"Sent to be cleaned; they had blood on them."

"Whose blood?" Maja asked.

"Klingon blood," Kzost informed him, remembering that Maja's rags had dark green blood stains as well as the purple Klingon blood. 'What did you see tonight, my Maja?' Kzost wondered. He shook himself - someday Maja would tell him or not tell him, until then it was none of his business.

"Are you hungry?" Kzost asked.

He got three no's; Ling was asleep again.

"All right, you Talljets, go sleep over there by the fire. You should be warm enough. It's late, go to sleep."

The Talljets, Hobie carrying Ling, wandered over to the pile of blankets and burrowed in. They were very very still, waiting for Kzost to go to sleep so they could make their move.

When they heard him snoring behind his curtains, the Talljets crept into bed next to him. They were still shaken by the night's events and felt safer sleeping close to the big Klingon.

Toward dawn, Kzost dreamed he was falling off a freezing cliff and woke to find himself clinging to the very edge of his own bed, which was now dominated by the Talljet brothers.

'Oh, well, it's time to get up anyway,' Kzost thought as he tried to rise but could not as Maja had his arms around Jir's neck and his hands tangled in the Klingon's long black hair. 'On second thought, perhaps I'll just lie here a while longer.' He spooned around Jir, sleeping between him and Maja. He noted that the Talljets slept as they moved in the bazaar: the younger ones between the elder for safety.

'Wise formation,' Kzost thought, watching the Talljets sleep and finally dozed off himself.

Somewhat later Kzost's valet brought in his breakfast, which the Talljets ate for him, and new clothes for the children. Kzost never asked where the clothes came from but he doubled the valet's annual bonus that year for such resourcefulness.

The Klingon dressed and went down to the kitchen to find something to eat, the Talljets on his heels.

Khatanya looked up from his tea, amused, at their entrance.

"They're like little hounds following their dam, sir," he smiled at Kzost and got a withering glare in return. "You could teach them to hunt," Khatanya continued undeterred.

"Only if they're hunting you, Khatanya," Kzost growled. "That might be interesting for us, eh, boys?"

The Talljets looked at Khatanya with interest for a moment before turning their full attention to more food.

After breakfast, Kzost herded them into the garden and showed them his office window.

"Look, I have things to do today so you have to play out here," he informed them, gesturing to the huge garden. "But you can see me in there and if you need me, just tap on the window."

They nodded and began to explore the garden, one of them, however, always checking on Kzost's location.

Kzost himself was checking on them periodically from his office but managed to get some work done in spite of it.

A short while later, Khatanya ushered Voren into Kzost's office.

"Stay, Captain, sit down," Kzost told Khatanya. "You might as well hear what's said."

Khatanya settled himself in a chair just behind Voren's peripheral vision.

"Well, Vulcan, what shall I do with these children?" Kzost asked.

"Can you not keep them? They trust you."

"You know very little of modern Klingon social structures," Kzost informed him. "Vulcanoids in a Klingon household are a dangerous mix. If a superior officer, member of the clergy or Imperial family were to ask for them, I would not be in a position to refuse. And if we are honest with each other we know that Hobie and Jir are already rather pretty and will cause trouble wherever they go."

Voren nodded and decided against telling Kzost of the angry trader calling the Klingon a thief and murderer late last night. Dr. Romsky had punched the man in the nose when he realized what 'merchandise' the slaver was talking about.

"Perhaps there is a solution," Voren said quietly. "As you know, the Terran doctors have been observing the Talljets from a distance since Maja was attacked ..."

"Observing?"

"You frighten them, Commodore, so they don't get too close to the children," Voren said. "And the Talljets are," he paused, looking for a suitable word in Klingonese, "skittish. Except for brazen Maja, who marched up to their door. The children have noticed the Terrans' attention .."

"How have they noticed it?" Kzost was puzzled that he had not noticed the Terrans around the Talljets.

"It's subtle," Voren said patiently at yet another interruption. "They make eye contact mainly, Maja waves at them and disappears into the crowd." He did not mention that he once overheard Dr. Duvallier, a exo-zoologist, suggest setting up a blind in the bazaar to observe the Talljets because they behaved more like urban scavengers than sentient beings. Dr. Wilton, a exo-anthropologist, had commented that that was due to the primitive social structure of Magidrian that had no place for orphans except the streets.

"I believe the Terrans would take them in," Voren continued. "Dr. Castaris suggested it last night and this morning he, Dr. Romsky, Dr. MacQuarrie and Dr. Duvallier agreed to be responsible for the Talljets," he paused. "Here and wherever."

"I believe I've met MacQuarrie," Kzost rumbled to give himself a moment to consider what had just been said. "What do you mean 'wherever'?"

"The Terrans are willing to adopt, raise and educate the Talljets as their legal children."

Kzost and Khatanya exchanged looks. Adoption on Klingon was somewhat different, usually having to do with hostage taking. Khatanya's name in fact meant 'guest of the Khats' in honor of the fact one or more of his significant ancestors had been a hostage, and then ally, of the ancient now defunct, Imperial clan.

"What do you think of this, Vulcan?" Kzost asked at length.

"I am in favor of it unless you have a better plan."

"No. All I thought was giving them money and a place to live near the bazaar. They're pretty good at looking after themselves." Kzost slowed down, remembering that the monks had looked after the Talljets. "But they are still children and probably need more supervision than I can give them." 'Especially MajaYaja the wild one,' he added to himself.

"I agree with you, Klingon, they do need supervision as well as guidance. Maja appears to be out of control already ..."

"Ooooh, nooooo. He's just ... high spirited." Kzost didn't like to hear Maja criticized even if he agreed with it.

Voren gave the Klingon a piercing look and continued: "At any rate, all the Talljets need a stable and safe place to live. I have spent some time with these Terrans since Maja was treated in their lab. I feel that they are serious and sober men, Castaris and Duvallier have raised their own children to adulthood, Romsky has a son and a daughter near Maja's age, MacQuarrie comes from a large family where he had younger siblings ..."

"How do you know this, Vulcan?"

"I listen to what people say to me."

Kzost, impressed by this answer, suppressed a smile and looked at Voren with appreciation. 'Sometimes,' he thought, 'this Vulcan says the most adorable things.'

"And you think these Terrans are reliable, honest, upstanding and worthy of the Talljets?" Kzost asked, breaking into his own reverie.

"Yes. It is also my opinion that the Talljets are worthy of the Terrans and have the potential to be reliable, honest and upstanding, as well."

"You don't think Maja and his brothers are that now?" Kzost asked menacingly.

Voren took an extra nanosecond to phrase his diplomatic reply: "I believe they are rather rough around the edges." He was subtly gratified to hear Kzost grunt with laughter.

"What do you think, Khatanya?" Kzost asked.

"I think it's a good plan, if the Talljets are willing," Khatanya said simply.

"What do you think of the Terrans?"

"Mostly harmless."

"And these particular Terrans?"

"Completely harmless."

"Ah. Well, let's see what Hobie thinks. His brothers, even out-of-control-Maja, will do what he tells them to do."

Kzost nodded, rose and opened his window. He leaned out and waved Hobie over. He stepped back to allow the youth to climb into the room.

"Hullo, Rom," Hobie addressed Voren in halting Klingonese. "Are we going now?" he asked, referring to the visit to the monks' graves they planned to make.

"Presently, Hobie," Voren said, "will you please sit down for a moment?"

Hobie glanced at Kzost, who nodded, and perched on the edge of the chair nearest the window.

'Always poised for flight, aren't you Hobie?' Voren thought. "The Terrans who helped Maja would like to give you and your brothers a home," he said bluntly.

"Can't we stay here?" Hobie asked Kzost.

The Klingon shook his head. "I cannot protect you here for any length of time, Hobie. We Klingons are not angels and you and Jir already have 'admirers' among my officers. I cannot keep my escort around you and your brothers day and night; sooner or later 'something' would happen. You can't throw a match into straw without getting a fire."

Hobie looked at Khatanya for a second opinion. The captain smiled grimly and nodded.

"What kind of home?" Hobie asked Voren.

"A good one," the Vulcan answered, relieved that Hobie would consider it. "You will have food, clothing, shelter and they will teach you what they can."

"And in exchange?" Hobie asked. He was old enough to have been propositioned in the bazaar once or twice and was wary of any kind of offer.

"You obey them," Voren paused to watch a stubborn frown flit over Hobie's pure features. "As you obeyed the monks and Father Polmira." The Vulcan knew that the Talljets boys and the Talljet monks had come to some kind of understanding about obedience in the monastery and hoped Hobie would translate that to this situation. Voren was glad to see that this was what the youth appeared to be doing.

"Hobie, look," Kzost said after the silence had gone on too long for him. "You're old enough to know something of life so let's be blunt. First of all, you and Jir are now as strong if not stronger than these Terrans and in a few years Maja and Ling will be that strong too so you can fight your way out of anything. Second, these Terrans know that and they are taking a helluva risk taking you in. They must trust you for some reason, perhaps they've seen enough of you in the bazaar to believe they can live in harmony with you. Third, as long as you and I are here, if something happens or you think something is going to happen, come to me and I'll kill everyone."

Voren winced mentally as Hobie nodded, indicating that Kzost's sound but inelegant argument made perfect sense to him. Hobie looked at the Vulcan: "Will you wait for us, Rom? I'll go get Jir and we will go to .... to there." Hobie jerked his chin in the direction of the burned monastery. "Maja does not want to go and Ling wants to stay with him," he said, rising. "I will think about what you have said to me and talk to my brothers." He climbed out the window and was gone.

The three adults sat in silence, mulling over Hobie's gracious offer to consider his only real option.

"Bring them back at midday for lunch, Vulcan," Kzost drawled, mainly to break up the silence.

"The Terrans would like them to lunch with them at the lab," Voren answered blandly.

"If they are willing," Kzost offered. "If not, perhaps they'll accompany you there later in the afternoon."

"Will you speak to Maja about this, Klingon?"

"No. I won't set him against Hobie," Kzost answered. "Whatever happens, the Talljets will still have each other and it would be foolish to cause dissension among them."

'Klingons,' Voren thought, 'more for solidarity than sense.'

They all rose as Hobie and Jir came in through the door this time. Khatanya saw the trio to the gate and watched them walk half way up the hill to the burned out shell of the Talljet monastery before he turned back to his duties.

~

"Now the monks are gone away. Where do we live now, Nolo?"

"I don't know. NoloJir and NoloHobie will tell us very soon, I think. Do not worry, Noli, god will still look after us."

At midmorning, Kzost's valet, unbidden, brought a tray of hot drinks and muffins to the tree where Maja and Ling were lurking. He pretended not to see them peeking at him through the leaves and walked away as if it were perfectly natural to leave food and drink at the foot of a tree.

Maja and Ling enjoyed the tea and half the muffins - they saved the other half for Hobie and Jir.

Hobie and Jir lunched with the Terrans and Voren and decided to accept the Terrans' offer for as long as it worked out. The Talljets moved into Star Fleet Scientific Mission #86-543 that evening and began to learn Standard. Drs. Arthur Castaris, Gregor Romsky, James MacQuarrie, and Paul Duvallier sent messages to Star Fleet legal to process the paperwork for an offworld adoption.

* * *

"It's a hell, Klingon, you can't imagine," Maja said in Romulan, sitting across from Kzost at the Commodore's usual table in the cafe.

"How so, my Maja?" Kzost asked the sleek little half Mage in the same language and snapped his fingers for the waiter. "What will you have, child?"

"The usual," Maja informed him, tossing his curls off his shoulder.

Kzost sent the waiter for tea and sliced fruit instead of cake because Maja was starting to look a little fat. Obviously the Terrans were feeding him enough.

"What's the problem, little one?"

"They want me to stay in at night."

"I, too, want you to stay in at night," Kzost told him, remembering how disconcerting it had been to find Maja running errands for one of his favorite brothels. "You're, what? - nine years old? - You're too young to be in the streets after dark."

Maja eyed him narrowly. "I think Devlenisia," he drawled the name of the prostitute Kzost had been visiting that night, "is very pretty."

"Oh, was that her name?" Kzost was momentarily distracted by the memory of looking up from the girl between his legs and into Maja's curious little face that night. He pulled himself together. "I agree; she's pretty. But let's leave her out of this. You and Dr. MacQuarrie have an agreement - he cares for your body and mind and you obey his rules. Your brothers do not have a problem with this."

"And if I don't obey his rules?"

"I don't know. Perhaps he will not keep you..."

"I'd go live with Devlenisia," Maja said pertly. "Or you," he added seriously.

"Maja," Kzost said patiently. "We have had this conversation several times and the answer is the same: you cannot live with me. Besides, in your heart, you don't want to leave your brothers for me or pretty Devlenisia."

"You're prettier than she is," Maja told him.

"Ah. I thank you, child." Kzost nodded graciously. "But, look, you, I'm serious, I want you to obey your Terran. This is a good deal you've got, MajaYaja - don't screw it up!"

Maja pouted. "I hate this name he has for me."

Kzost ignored the pout with difficulty - Maja was irresistible when he pouted. "What is it again? Mokle, Muckel?"

"Michael James."

"Umm, yes, disgusting," Kzost agreed. "But who cares what he calls you as long as it's not late for dinner, you foolish thing?"

"You're not being serious, Klingon, I..."

"I'M not being serious, half Mage? You have the best deal of any ex-street boy in the history of this quadrant and I'M NOT BEING SERIOUS?"

Maja, sensing he was near the outer boundaries of this Klingon's remarkable patience, sat back and sipped his tea. He looked over the bazaar and wondered if Kzost would buy him some more paper.

"I've drawn on all my paper, Klingon, will you buy me some more?" he asked, changing the subject.

Kzost rolled his eyes. "No. Not if you won't stay home at night, Maja."

"Okay, I'll stay home."

"I mean that. I'll know if you don't."

"How?"

"There are lots of Klingons here and they all know you Talljets by sight. I have only to ask." Kzost stared Maja down with ease. "However, I will not ask if you give me your word of honor that you'll stay home at night."

Maja knew this was serious so he gave it some thought. He looked up at this Klingon he loved with all his heart and saw concern in the deep set eyes. He lowered his eyes: "All right, Klingon, I give you my word of honor that I will stay home at night but only because you ask me."

Kzost raised Maja's chin with his index finger: "And will you give me your word that you will try to obey MacQuarrie to the best of your abilities?"

Maja rolled his eyes. "I do."

"Good then." Kzost gave Maja's aquiline nose a playful tug. "What kind of paper do you want?"

"I don't want any," Maja looked at him with eyes far older than his years. "I just want to please you."

* * *

Ling would wonder forever what might have been had he not been so tempted to see the baby Magehens in Dr. Lazroid's lab that day. For many years after that day, Ling doubted his own judgment and could trust no one but his brothers. It would be a long time before he realized that sometimes random, senselessly cruel and horrible things occur in this life that are so completely beyond one's control the universe seems an unfathomably evil place. And as horrible as that is, the only thing one can do is to survive them, live with their haunting and accept the fact that the memory of this terrible thing affects every part of one's life. Ling eventually learned to trust again, his judgment and other people, but only by minutely examining every aspect of the decision or person under the white hot light of Vulcan logic driven by the fear he learned in Lazroid's lab.

Lazroid, a exo-biologist, had come to Star Fleet Scientific Mission #86-543 three months previously. He hadn't been on Terra in more years than he could count. He'd gone from planet to planet, conducting brilliant research and publishing his findings; he was, at that time, considered one of the greatest scientists Star Fleet had. He was also burned out and planned to retire or commit suicide or something after Magidrian. He found a kindred spirit in Dr. Wilton, who had also been offworld too long.

Although they did not know it, they were also suffering from the psychic assault of the rarefied Magidrian atmosphere. Both had a higher than normal psi rating, both were vulnerable to the free floating emotionally charged psychic residue of the Patois speaking telepaths around them and the reclusive Magidrians. Neither had any telepathic training, nor were they even aware of what was happening to them. In their weakened state, their socio-morals were pushed aside and their vile fantasies, freed by the tendrils of the universal mind where everything dwells benignly, began to seem achievable to Lazroid and Wilton. Twistedly, in the name of science, conducting a thorough examination of the one Talljet they could still overpower seemed like a reasonable project. They would reason away their colleagues' objections. Were they not here to study these people and why were these boys, right in their own lab, not being studied in every way? It is impossible to know if they truly did not realize that they would lose control of themselves.

Hobie, Jir and Maja were not in the lab that afternoon. Hobie and Jir had gone to tend the monks' graves as they did once a month and Maja was meeting Kzost for tea as he did once a week. Ling was invited on both expeditions but he declined. Dr. Lazroid had promised to show him the baby Magehens in his lab that afternoon.

No one, not even the second-sighted Talljets, saw it coming. Lazroid had done nothing wrong in the three months he was there. Neither Voren, who was his usual well shielded self when he'd met Lazroid in the bazaar, nor the Talljets, who were unshielded but untrained to look for it, had felt any dangerous energy in his telefield or noticed any deterioration in Wilton's telefield energy.

Ling had been completely engrossed in the baby Magehen he held. His brothers were enjoying his enjoyment through the link when they felt his sudden surprise, then fear, then pain in a combination that struck horror deep into their souls.

Maja had been walking back from his tea with Kzost and was musing on Ling's fingers stroking the soft ball of feather fuzz. He suddenly felt Ling jerked up and his pants yanked off. He arched in agony as the next sensation of Ling's body being ripped in half and his pain and terror nearly brought Maja to his knees. He thrashed wildly for a moment, felt the adrenaline kick in and ran as fast as he could to the lab. He knew exactly where Ling was; the beacon of his horror was strong in the link.

Hobie and Jir froze for an instant, dropped their tools and flew down the hill. Romsky and Castaris followed them although they didn't have a clue what was wrong - they just knew something was very wrong.

Maja got there first. He didn't understand what he was seeing when he arrived until years later but he knew that he had to get Ling away from these men. He flung himself on Lazroid, who was holding Ling around the waist, and closed his fingers on the soft flesh of his neck. He heard and felt a loud crunching sound under his hands and fell with Lazroid's jerking body. Maja turned to find Wilton grabbing at him. He lashed at the Terran's eyes and dug into the flesh with two fingers. It was effective; the Terran recoiled and staggered away from him.

Maja was trying to haul Ling to his feet when Hobie and Jir ran in.

Hobie's soul turned to ice when he saw the turquoise blood on Ling's legs. He picked up Ling and ran out of the building, his brothers following.

They ran through the bazaar and pleasure district, not stopping until they found some old burned out buildings to hide in. They held Ling, they opened their hearts and poured their love into him. They held him, healed his body and cried with him when they knew they could not heal his fear and horror; they were too vast.

Night fell and they were very hungry but too frightened to move from the safe place they had found to hide in.

~

Calm, cool Paul Duvallier had to be physically restrained from killing Wilton when he heard the doctor's matter-of-fact recital of what had occurred in Lazroid's lab that afternoon.

"Paul," Romsky grated. "We have to find Ling before he bleeds to death."

Duvallier cursed Wilton and ran out the room, closely followed by MacQuarrie and Romsky.

Castaris turned away to go.

"Who's going to dress my eye?" Wilton snarled, nursing his empty socket.

"You're a doctor," Castaris said quietly, his voice dulled by shock and disgust. "Dress it yourself."

~

Voren had seen the Talljets run through the bazaar but they were too fast for him to follow and he lost them in the pleasure district. On his way to the lab to find out what happened, he met MacQuarrie, who told him.

"I need to speak to Commodore Kzost or Captain Khatanya right now," Voren told the guard on gate duty at Kzost's mansion.

"Commodore Kzost and Captain Khatanya are not on the property right now," the guard informed him.

"Where are they?"

"I don't know." He turned back into his shed.

"Can you find out?" Voren asked.

"Commodore Kzost and Captain Khatanya are not on the property right now," the guard informed him from within the shed.

"Vulcan," Kzost said walking up to the gate and acknowledging the guard's salute. "What do you want."

"Ling is hurt and the Talljets have fled with him and we need to find him so he can be treated before he bleeds to death," Voren said clearly.

Kzost looked into Voren's face for clues that were not there. "Find Captain Khatanya for me, Ensign, tell him to meet me at the gate to the Pleasure district." He turned to the Vulcan and led him down the road: "Hurt how?"

"He was assaulted."

"How?"

"He was raped."

Kzost felt his heart stop or at least that was how it seemed.

"Where is Maja?" he asked numbly.

"We don't know, Klingon," Voren answered.

"Raped by whom?" Kzost asked after a moment.

"Lazroid."

"He dies, Vulcan, they all die."

"Lazroid is dead; his throat was crushed. They think it was Maja because Hobie and Jir were too far away from the lab when the rape occurred."

Kzost thought about this as he hailed a taxi. "I thought they would be safe there," he said, leaning back on the seat.

"I, too, thought that."

"And we were wrong, Voren, and those children have suffered even more because we were wrong." Kzost was numb with shock.

"Yes."

Khatanya was waiting at the pleasure district gate when the taxi dropped them off. He lowered his eyes when Voren told him what had happened and turned to his commanding officer.

"Collect all the men you trust, start looking, quietly. I just want to know where they are," Kzost told him quickly. Now that some of the shock had worn off he was distracted by something odd in his head. It was as if he could almost hear Maja crying and had only to follow the sound to find him. "Vulcan, come with me."

Kzost drifted through the pleasure district to the old part that had burned down over four years previously. It had never been rebuilt and the ruins of the brothels and taverns were silent in the moonlight. He followed the weeping in his head until it grew faint and then he doubled back to where it was strongest. He squatted down on his haunches before a burned out brothel entrance. He could not see into the recesses of the ruin but he knew Maja, at least, was there.

"Maja," he whispered. "Maja, please come out, we've got to get Ling some help."

Silence.

"Maja, I know what happened, no one will hurt you or your brothers if you come out to me. I'll take you home with me."

Silence.

Kzost felt his throat constricting and tears on his face.

"Maja," he sighed, "I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I was wrong."

Voren's Vulcan ears heard the rustle of fabric and dead leaves first. A moment later the Talljets moved cautiously out of the shadows and stopped a short distance from the Vulcan and Kzost to assess the safety of the situation.

Maja, clutching his elbows in distress, broke away from the group and walked slowly up to Kzost. He put his arms around the Klingon's neck and wiped the tears off Kzost's cheeks.

Kzost put his arms around Maja and buried his face in the child's shoulder.

Voren gestured to Hobie, Jir and Ling to come forward, which they did with great caution.

"Hobie, Ling needs medical attention ..." Voren began reaching for the youngest Talljet to check his condition.

"Don't touch him," Hobie whispered savagely.

There was murder in his voice and Voren froze and wisely took a step back from Ling.

"Take us home, Klingon," Maja said quietly.

"Yes. Come." Kzost turned to lead the Talljets home.

"Ling needs a doctor," Voren tried to insist.

Kzost grabbed his shirt and shook the Vulcan: "That is the last thing he needs."

Voren thought it more sensible not to follow and watched them disappear between two charred moonlit ruins.

~

When Kzost got the Talljets to his mansion, they took a bath and he put them to bed in his own bed. Ling was withdrawn but he was not bleeding to death so Kzost let him be. He curled up in an armchair beside the bed where the children could see him but he was not too close. He could feel their fear like a mist around them and he didn't want to crowd them. They'd been through enough for three lifetimes. He dozed.

Late in the night Kzost woke to find Maja sleeping on his chest. He stroked the little half Mage's curls and looked at his brothers sleeping in the moonlight flooded bed.

'If I could only keep this Maja and his brothers safe,' he thought as he fell back asleep. 'I would gladly let the rest of creation wither and die.'

* * *

"They wish to remain with Commodore Kzost for the time being," Voren told Castaris, MacQuarrie, Duvallier and Romsky in the Mission several days later.

"After what happened here," Castaris said quietly, "I don't blame them." He had told Voren earlier that the Mission was being withdrawn because of the lack of progress and the departure date was moved up four months because of the incident with Ling. Wilton, at his own request and much to the relief of his colleagues, had left on the first ship leaving Magidria for anywhere.

"Will Ling get the medical attention he needs there?" Romsky asked after a silence.

"The Commodore sent a message that Ling is not in need of medical attention," Voren said dryly, thinking back on the rest of the message Khatanya had brought: if the Terrans went near the mansion they would be shot on sight. "I therefore suggest you avoid his residence for now."

Castaris looked at his colleagues and then at the Vulcan: "Voren, we should have seen it coming and we don't know why we didn't. I have to admit that I was ... distracted ... by Hobie and Jir and not paying as close attention to what was happening to Lazroid. Looking back, I realize he was falling apart in front of me and I just didn't get it."

"Distracted by Hobie and Jir how?" Voren asked, experiencing an odd sinking feeling in his solar plexus.

"I was attracted to them. I still am."

"We had discussed this among ourselves," Duvallier said, "and we are all aware of a certain attraction to Hobie and Jir. We agreed to monitor each other and discuss its development because we were worried something sexual might happen with one of them. We felt that if we were vigilant of each other, no incident could occur. We had to have the situation under control because the Talljets had no where else to go."

"We never dreamed anything would happen to Ling, we felt protective of him and Maja but no inappropriate sexual reactions," Romsky commented.

"I was very surprised to find this in myself, Voren," MacQuarrie told him. "I've never had a sexual interest in another male in my life, until now."

'When will the Federation realize the unwisdom of placing non telepaths on telepathic planets,' Voren thought but said: "It is possible you are reacting to certain influences on this planet that are beyond your control..."

"But they are in our control, Voren," Castaris said harshly. "We knew we needed to watch ourselves and keep it in front of us and we did. Lazroid and Wilton never said a word when we discussed it with them, they said it was not affecting them. And I believed them, goddam me."

"I agree with you, Dr. Castaris, I understand," Voren said. "I had hoped the Talljets could be restored to you and leave here when your mission departs in three weeks." He looked into their shocked faces. "I do not believe any of you are willing to act on your impulses as Drs. Lazroid and Wilton did, I would not have encouraged the Talljets to come here had I thought that. Dr. Lazroid was not a factor in my original considerations as he was not here and my experiences with Dr. Wilton now seem as if they were with a different being altogether.

"I now realize that the Talljets require a different environment and special training for their telepathic abilities. Based upon what Captain Khatanya told me this morning, Ling has no physical injuries whatsoever..."

"That's impossible, we examined Lazroid's corpse and Wilton confirms that .." Romsky broke in, annoyed that the Klingons would lie.

"Yes, I know that you found Ling's blood and excrement on Dr. Lazroid's genitals and I do not dispute that he violated the child." Voren paused to watch the humans wince. "And Ling's psychological state indicates he has suffered a severe trauma ('He hides and his brothers stand guard around where he hides' Khatanya had said. 'They refuse to leave Kzost's room; they feel safe there.') but he has no physical trauma because he and his brothers are empaths and they healed him."

"How?" Castaris asked, intrigued - empaths were just becoming known in Federation scientific circles. They were somewhat like the Unicorn: mythically rare and nearly beyond belief.

"Unknown, Doctor, they do not exist on Vulcan," Voren said, affirming that even Vulcans have telepathic limits. "I suspect the Magidrians are powerful empath/telepaths but we shall never know as they do not consent to be studied.

"I do not wish to leave the children here, I do not know what would happen to them and I am concerned they would fall into the hands of slavers or something similar. They cannot go with Commodore Kzost when he leaves in a month or so, nor, obviously can they remain with you," he raised a hand to silence an outburst from Duvallier. "Not because any of you would assault them. I believe that more than half of the attraction would vanish once you were away from Magidrian. The other half is problematic and beyond your control. It is also beyond the Talljets' control because they do not understand what they are or how to direct it. Without proper training, their superior telepathic gifts would eventually wreak havoc in any non telepathic community they tried to live in.

"I believe I can convince Commodore Kzost to give them back if he is assured that they will be settled on Vulcan. It will be necessary for you to transfer your guardianships to the Vulcan family I hope to place them with."

Voren sat back and waited for the Terrans to see the sense of this. Vulcan was extremely well thought of in the Federation in spite of its off-putting reputation for inhospitably and rudeness. These were merely misinterpretations of Vulcan logic and heavy psychic shielding. The Vulcans did not mix easily with other Federation species, even though Voren had recently heard some old 'news' that a member of the house of Surak, of all Vulcan families, had married a Terran and heaven help that Terran: the Suraks were notoriously arrogant, even to each other. How they would accept an off worlder and progeny were a huge mystery. However and nevertheless, the Vulcans did readily share their awesome scientific and technological accomplishments and were respected, if not nearly revered, for that.

"Can your people help Ling?" Duvallier asked after a long silence.

"Yes."

"Then I am for it."

The other doctors agreed; Voren's argument was too sound.

* * *

"I have spoken to my family, they are willing to act as a foster family to the Talljets on Vulcan. The doctors are willing to transfer their guardianship and it is all a matter of putting the paperwork in order," Voren finished simply, wryly wishing it were so simple. He'd spoken to his great aunt SaGolia, next in line to be matriarch, and asked her to convince the current matriarch, T'Prol, to call in some favors and get the Talljets Vulcan visas and residencies based on the trumped up fact that Voren's great uncle, the respected Vulcan linguist, SaBrzia, was willing to have the half Mages in his household of linguists to study the mysterious Magidrian Patois. This subterfuge was necessary due to the fact the Vulcan immigration authorities did not recognize acts of mercy as valid reasons for settling offworlders on Vulcan. It would succeed because of T'Prol's pull, SaBrzia's reputation and the Vulcan Interplanetary Ministry and the Vulcan Institute's interest in a crucial galactic language that could not be deciphered in the field.

Voren now faced his biggest hurdle: Commodore KzostGhet.

The Commodore had listened patiently to Voren, occasionally glancing at Khatanya, seated behind the Vulcan, but mostly trying to conceal his aching back. The first morning of the Talljets' residency, the Klingon had woken to find all four of them sleeping in the armchair with him. He'd finally given in and simply slept in the bed with them, which was uncomfortable because of the odd positions they twisted him into in the course of the night. Kzost would also have kept more distance between himself and Maja but the child would not sleep anywhere but the Klingon's chest. 'I must be a saint by now,' he thought grimly, staring at Voren.

Kzost was concerned about the Talljets' mental welfare. Ling still hid and the others still guarded where he hid. In the four days since the incident, the children had not left his bedroom. Kzost brought them food but knew this could not go on forever. He was relieved that Voren might have a solution but dubious; Voren had had the previous solution and it was a disaster. He felt guilty that he had not anticipated it, that perhaps he should have interrogated the Vulcan more thoroughly. Should have. Should have. Should have.

"How can I know your cousins won't gang rape the Talljets five minutes after they arrive?" Kzost snarled. "I won't be there to rescue them again."

"They're Vulcans."

This was almost inarguable. In the history of modern Vulcan, rape, as Kzost defined it, was unheard of. It was one of the things that most annoyed the Klingons because during the Klingon-Vulcan war the Klingons had raped every Vulcan prisoner at least once as a matter of form. Kzost knew that Voren knew this and was grudgingly grateful that the Vulcan had chosen not to point it out.

Voren did not want a fight with Kzost. On the contrary, he would need all of Kzost's assistance to convince the Talljets to go peacefully to Vulcan with Castaris, Romsky, Duvallier and MacQuarrie when the starship Lexington arrived in three weeks.

"They're not quite right in the head anymore, Vulcan," Kzost said, referring to the Talljets. "It's like they've seen too much battle. I've seen it in soldiers but not in children, never in children." Kzost thought on Hobie's dead frozen eyes, Maja's haunted expression, Jir starting at nothing, and Ling, poor panicked Ling, trying to hide from a memory too huge and horrible to hide from. They only relaxed their vigilance when Kzost lay down with them, Maja, Ling and Jir, a little at least. Hobie was like an unsheathed blade, Khatanya had rightly said the other day - cold, sharp, deadly. "I am afraid," Kzost had never said those words before and he looked into Voren's eyes, "for them."

Something in Voren went very still as he looked into Kzost's naked eyes. In that moment he knew to the bottom of his soul that he'd waited all his life for this man. A Klingon; but that did not matter at all. With great effort, he pushed it aside to concentrate on the problem at hand.

"There are mental techniques," Voren said slowly, "my people can teach them to help them deal with their trauma. That and time in a safe environment is all I have to offer the Talljets now."

Kzost leaned back in his chair to come to grips with the logic of it. He hated logic - it reminded him of the battles the Klingons lost in the war with the Vulcans. He looked at Khatanya and asked the Captain what he thought.

"I'm afraid to say."

"Why?"

"Because I was wrong last time."

"We were all wrong last time, let us beg god to make us right this time."

Khatanya paused to beg god or phrase his answer or something, but it was a moment before he spoke: "I believe they would come to no physical harm but it's a fate worse than death to be a Vulcan."

Voren's heart sank, he knew Kzost would listen to this Klingon. Even Voren himself would listen to this Klingon. He inhaled to refute this argument but Kzost forestalled him with a gesture.

"Unfortunately," Khatanya continued. "I don't see what else can be done. The Terrans can't be trusted; leave them here and god knows what will happen; take them to Klingon and they'll all be barracks' whores or Imperial concubines before the year is out." He leaned forward to address Voren: "You can't make them into Vulcans, can you Vulcan?"

Voren turned his head slightly, still watching Kzost: "No and my family is an unusual modern Vulcan family."

"Oh? What are they like?" Kzost asked.

"Beyond obeying the civil laws, they believe individuals need not conform to society's rigid requirements. They value intelligence and education tempered by wisdom and compassion. They encourage their children to satisfy their own curiosity and appropriately question authority. They appreciate difference instead of merely tolerating it. They teach those in their care to use their own intelligence guided by experience. To see the terrain, not just look at it. They respect logic but do not worship it." Voren leaned back, strangely exhausted.

Kzost gazed thoughtfully at him, deeply impressed - he'd never heard a Vulcan speak from his heart. He did not know it was possible. Voren went up another notch in his esteem. 'This must be very important to you, Vulcan, to show yourself to me like that,' he thought.

Khatanya was not impressed: "There are no Vulcans like that."

"Open your eyes, Klingon, and see one in front of you," Kzost said rising. "Come with me, Vulcan, we will talk to the children together."

Voren followed him out of the office and up to Kzost's bedroom.

Kzost acknowledged his guards' salute and entered. Hobie, Jir and Maja, poised to spring, let their heels down but did not relax.

Seeing them, Voren felt a chill run up his spine. They looked at him like cornered animals; even the most gentle creature will turn to fight, in vain, when there is no other choice.

Kzost sat down on the floor, keeping several meters between them. He gestured for Voren to sit next to him.

The three Talljets continued to stand.

Kzost kept his eyes lowered as he addressed Hobie for all of them: "Hobie, I think you understand that no one now on this planet wanted Ling to be hurt. The man responsible is dead and the other has fled, may they both rot in hell forever. The only people here now want to help Ling as much as they can." He paused to swallow slowly. "We want to help all of you as much as we can."

The Talljets exchanged wary glances and then, surprisingly, Maja sat down between his brothers.

Kzost flicked him a grateful glance and continued: "I think you know that the offworlders are leaving Magidrian very soon. This is your home and we understand if you don't want to leave it. We do not know how you will survive if you stay here but if you wish to stay here, no one will try to stop you."

Jir sank gracefully to a cross-legged position on the floor next to Maja. Only Hobie remained standing.

Kzost continued: "We have found a place for you to live where you and your brothers will be safe. It is called Vulcan. It is Voren's home world. Everyone there is like Voren."

The Klingon paused to let that sink in - the Talljets rather liked Voren - and continued: "You and your brothers will live with Voren's family. He assures me they are good people and I believe him. I also promise you that if you need me I will come. There are Klingons on Vulcan and you have only to send me a message through them and I or Khatanya or someone we trust will come for you. I swear this on my honor as a Klingon."

Kzost didn't look up when Ling's little feet came into his line of vision and the child crawled into his lap. He put his arms around him in a light embrace and continued: "This is all I have to offer you and your brothers now, Hobie."

Kzost fell silent and waited for Hobie's decision. He knew he could take the youth and drag the Talljets to Vulcan but he valued their trust too much to do that.

Hobie sat down. "How are we to get there?" he asked.

"In a starship," Kzost replied vaguely.

"Yours?"

"No."

"Whose?"

"A Terran starship."

Like lightening, the elder Talljets sprang to their feet again and Ling flashed back to his hiding place.

Kzost cursed silently but did not move a muscle. He hoped Voren could defend himself if the children attacked because they would be a handful. He doubted they would attack but one must anticipate all possible scenarios in these situations.

"Are you mad, Klingon?" Hobie snarled.

"Hobie, there are good Terrans and there are bad Terrans, just as there are good Klingons and there are bad Klingons," Kzost answered, nicely dodging Hobie's original question. "Do you hate me and Khatanya because we are Klingons and Castaris, Romsky, MacQuarrie and Duvallier because they are Terrans? Or do you judge us by your experience with us? Can you trust us because of your experience with us? Can you, Hobie, will you? I can do nothing for you if you will not trust me. If I leave you here because you will not accept the best solution I can find, I do not know what will happen to you. Perhaps you and Jir will survive for a while but what will happen to Maja and Ling? And if you do survive and your brothers don't it will haunt you for the rest of your life. Just as leaving you here will haunt me for the rest of my life. Hobie, please," Kzost looked up into Hobie's frozen eyes, "if not for yourself then for the rest of us, please, think this over very seriously." He took a deep breath and exhaled: "And now, I'm going to get up and go down to my office. If you want to talk to me, the comm unit is there and you know how to use it."

Kzost rose with some effort, his old Klingon knees were not accustomed to sitting on floors to argue with fourteen year old MageCheqs. He tapped the still seated Vulcan on the shoulder.

"Come."

Voren looked up at him, rose in one fluid motion and followed.

"What now, Klingon?" he asked.

"We wait to hear what they decide," Kzost murmured vaguely, dividing his thoughts between the interview with Hobie Talljet, Voren's beautiful eyes and graceful carriage and why that was so interesting just now. 'Whatever happens,' he thought, 'I have got to get off this planet and away from these vulcanoids.'

They settled back in the office and Kzost called for tea. Khatanya brought it in, asked what happened and was told.

"You're the only Commodore in the Fleet that petitions half caste street boys like they were the Klingon Emperor," Khatanya observed.

Kzost sneered half-heartedly at him: "And you're the only tea-boy I know with Imperial Fleet Captain rank."

Voren kept his eyes demurely lowered as he listened to Khatanya grunt good-naturedly. He was also keeping his eyes lowered so Kzost could continue to examine him unimpeded. It occurred to the Vulcan that it might be nice for Khatanya to leave and lock the door behind him but then what? Voren had never seduced anyone in his life and he wasn't sure he knew how, was ready to, really wanted to, or if he should. What he wanted, oddly, was to curl up in Kzost's lap as Ling had - it seemed such a safe place. Perhaps it was a safe place for the Talljets but not for him. A little indefinable shiver went through him and he took a deep breath to clear his head.

"Khatanya," Kzost muttered huskily.

"Sir?"

"Get out."

"Sir."

"And lock the door behind you."

Listening to the door lock softly click and keeping his eyes down, Voren watched Kzost rise and step around the desk to stand next to him. He looked slowly up into the Klingon's face.

Kzost grabbed the Vulcan's shirt and hauled him to his feet. Crushing Voren to his chest, he pried the Vulcan's mouth open with his tongue. He was relieved to meet almost no resistance and ground his erection into the Vulcan's. He backed them up to the desk so he could lay Voren across it. Kzost buried his face in Voren's neck and began fumbling with both their clothes.

Softly panting with desire, Voren was just about to place his fingers into meld position, merely to slow the Klingon down a little, when the comm line droned next to them.

Kzost groaned in frustration, took a deep breath to steady himself and answered. It was Hobie.

"We want to talk to the Terrans first," he said. "Can they come to your office?"

"Yes," Kzost had to clear his throat. "Yes, I'll arrange it."

Hobie switched off.

Kzost reluctantly got off Voren and set the Vulcan on his feet. He adjusted his clothes, opened the door and bellowed for Khatanya, who came in looking puzzled.

'Kzost is quick but not that quick,' Khatanya thought, trying to compare this with the Commodore's escapades with women.

"Tell your guards the Terran doctors are coming here as my guests," Kzost snarled. "Go with this Vulcan in my car to get them. Make sure they come. I guarantee their safety."

Khatanya saluted and motioned Voren to follow him. He spoke to two of his lieutenants and led Voren outside.

"Are you all right, Vulcan?" Khatanya asked.

"Yes," Voren answered. He was slightly flustered; more by the interruption of Kzost's overture than by the overture itself.

The doctors were easy to convince and they were all soon standing in Kzost's office, waiting for the Talljets to join them.

The Talljets, escorted by Khatanya, entered in a careful knot - Maja and Ling between Hobie and Jir - and proceeded cautiously into the room. Quicker than lightening Jir slipped Khatanya's knife from his belt and kicked Romsky's feet out from under him. He pounced on Romsky's chest and held the knife point to the doctor's eye as his brothers fanned out to hold off the adults. Maja kept Kzost at bay, Hobie was in front of Khatanya and Voren. Even Ling stood his ground before the three stunned doctors.

"WHY DID IT HAPPEN?" Jir screamed into Romsky's face.

"Don't move, Terran," Kzost murmured, never taking his eyes off Maja.

"WHY DID IT HAPPEN?"

"Jir," Romsky finally whispered, "Jir, they were insane, they were evil..."

"YOU LET IT HAPPEN." Jir was shaking like a leaf but the knife was steady in his hand.

"I ..."

"YOU LET IT HAPPEN," Jir was winding himself up. "WHY...WHY..."

"I didn't know, Jir," Romsky said quietly. "I didn't know this could happen. I couldn't believe such an evil thing could happen to someone I know, someone I care about. I don't understand why it happened but I'd give my life to have stopped it. I'd give both our lives to have stopped it. I'm sorry. I'm sorry."

Jir silently took this in but remained on Romsky's chest, knife poised to plunge into the Terran's right eye.

"Swear," he hissed, "swear we are safe with you."

"I swear."

"Swear..."

"I swear on the lives of my children and my family and my brothers that you are safe with me, with us."

"That is well," Jir said, raising the knife and plunging it into the carpet by Romsky's right ear. "Because I now swear to you, Terran, that if anything else happens to any of my brothers I will not kill you but I will make you wish you were dead." He stood and the brothers stepped back into formation, younger between elder, against the wall, assuring them of a straight shot out the door if necessary.

The adults heaved a sigh of relief.

Khatanya bent to retrieve his knife from the floor. 'How humiliating,' he scowled mentally, 'disarmed by a twelve year old.'

Romsky got shakily to his feet and went to sit with his colleagues. He was badly rattled by Jir's attack but could not really blame the child. Romsky gave thanks he still had his life and his eye.

"So!" They jumped as Kzost broke into everyone's thoughts in Standard. "Still want to take them to Vulcan?" He was yet again impressed with these Talljets, they were feisty little guys, even poor Ling.

"Yes," Castaris said simply. His colleagues nodded in agreement at the Klingon.

Kzost turned to the Talljets: "You have your guarantee, Hobie, they will protect you, all of you. Will you go with them? To Vulcan? To Voren's family."

Hobie looked inward for a moment: he was listening to his brothers in his head. He inhaled: "Yes. Yes. Yes."

Kzost looked at Romsky: "You've made your promise to Jir, Terran, and I think you'll keep it." He looked at each doctor in turn. "I further think that Jir will 'make you all wish you were dead' if anything bad happens." He paused for emphasis. "And I'll finish what he leaves me." He watched that sink in. He smiled to hear Jir's happy grunt of acknowledgment but did not look at him.

"I am pleased that these children have such a powerful friend in you, Commodore," Duvallier said graciously after a moment. "My colleagues and I will gladly die if we cannot keep our promise to them." He thought this was a little dramatic but, based on what he'd just heard in the room, he correctly assumed this was what the non-Terrans wanted to hear.

It was. Kzost and Khatanya exchanged satisfied glances. Maja even smiled a little at MacQuarrie.

"We want to stay here until it's time to go to Voolkin." Hobie announced in Standard with his thick Rom accent.

"That's fine, Hobie," Kzost said, hoping his back would hold out. After Jir's performance, he had no doubt his self control would.

Ling buried his face in Jir's chest and mewed softly.

"Hemzjit (let's go)," Jir murmured to Hobie and they all left the room, escorted by Captain Khatanya.

"Well, that was easy," Kzost said amicably to the doctors. "Get out."

The Terrans said good afternoon and left.

Voren, seeing Kzost was not inclined to pick up where they'd left off, rose: "Good afternoon, Commodore."

Kzost, still seated, held his eyes: "I'll walk you home, Vulcan." He rose, "Let me check on the Talljets and I'll be with you terrectly."

~

Voren lived in a simple room on a quiet street off the bazaar. He led the Klingon into the sunny chamber that contained only a bed, a table and a chair and waited for Kzost to lunge. Or rather, he hoped that Kzost would lunge.

"Never have visitors, do you Vulcan?" Kzost asked, looking around the room.

"Never. How do you know?"

"Only one chair." Kzost moved a little closer. "Is it true that you Vulcans sleep on stones?"

"Some Vulcans do, yes." Voren gently placed a hand on the Klingon's thick bicep.

"Do you?" Kzost suddenly wondered if they shouldn't go find a soft bed somewhere else. His back hurt enough as it was.

Voren slowly shook his head. "No," he murmured.

"Ah. Good." Kzost pulled Voren over to the bed. He would find it more like a bale of straw than stone, alas. But, by that time, it did not matter; he would have made love to Voren on razors.

"Undress," he ordered and watched as the Vulcan obeyed.

Kzost ran his blunt fingertips over the soft skin on Voren's chest, through the silky jet floss and down to his hard pale green cock. Still fully clothed, he laid the Vulcan down on the bed and lay on top of him. He brought his lips softly to Voren's, contact without pressure, and retreated when the Vulcan pressed up against him. Kzost explored the pointed ear with his tongue, it had a nice salty taste and soft soft flesh stretched taut over its graceful curves.

"Have you done this before, Klingon? With a man?"

"No. Have you?"

"No. How do you know what to do?"

"Based upon my previous experience with females, I plan to make certain logical assumptions and a few intuitive leaps."

"Take your clothes off. Your belt is ..."

"I shall consider it, Vulcan."

For a response, Voren reached across Kzost's chest, took hold of armhole seam of his uniform and ripped the entire tunic and undershirt off in one fluid motion.

"I think I'll take my clothes off," Kzost muttered, undressing. He was impressed by such an elegant show of force.

He tossed his pants on the only chair and laid full length on the Vulcan. Kzost found himself enjoying the silky skin over lean hard muscle beneath him.

"Happy, now?" he asked, stroking Voren's penis with his own.

"No, of course not," Voren said dryly. "It is only more comfortable to have sex naked."

"Ah," Kzost said abstractedly as he guided Voren's hand to his penis.

The Vulcan started at the contact with the hard cool flesh.

Kzost tightened his grip on Voren's wrist until his resistance subsided and he began to stroke the Klingon's cock. He moved his own hand to the Vulcan's impressive erection and began to caress the hot flesh. Considering their equal strengths, he wisely decided against forcing Voren to go down on him. He fondled the Vulcan's balls, stroked his inner thigh and spread Voren's legs a little wider in his exploration of the alien body beside him. He caressed the tight ring of the Vulcan's anus, slipped in his fingertip and felt him jump.

"I've never been penetrated, Klingon. Do you want to do that?"

"I can tell," Kzost said dryly as he pressed his finger in a little deeper, thinking, 'You're so blunt, Vulcan, and so tight' but said: "Yes, actually, I do. Don't you?" He abruptly withdrew his finger so Voren would jump again.

"Perhaps," Voren moved a few millimeters away from him. "Have you done this before?"

"Not with a man," Kzost answered and rolled the Vulcan over without another word. "Or a virgin," he added in a soft whisper and kissed Voren's shoulder. "I'll be gentle."

Without a meld, Voren could not be sure the Klingon was telling him the truth but he was inclined to trust him.

Kzost rummaged around in his cloak for the lubricant he'd put there earlier when he'd decided what he'd like to do if he could get Voren into bed. He was pleased it was all working out so well. He came across the handcuffs he'd brought and smiled; he wouldn't be needing them this afternoon. He put some of the very fine imported Mvorian jelly on his fingers and smoothed it around the outside of the Vulcan's tight ring. He noted the light, it was still early afternoon and there was no need to hurry.

Voren allowed himself to relax under the Klingon's surprisingly gentle touch. He was thoroughly aroused and actually enjoying the caress. He could feel Kzost's cock against his thigh and shivered when the Klingon pressed his finger into him, up to the first joint.

"All right, Voren?" Kzost whispered against his neck. He slipped his left arm under the Vulcan to hold him and caress him as he continued his gentle probing and stretching. He nuzzled at Voren's cheek until the Vulcan gave him his lips. Kzost kissed him deeply and sweetly, finding so much pleasure in this man, he wondered why he'd never done it before. He slipped in another slick finger and Voren moaned into his mouth. He could feel the moisture on the Vulcan's cock on his arm. He damped down his sudden impatience and slowly slipped in a third finger.

Voren broke the kiss so he could pant against the Klingon's shoulder. He was shocked that he could be so aroused by this intimate invasion and hid his confusion against Kzost's neck as Kzost gently worked his fingers in and out. 'This is wrong, I should stop him,' he thought desperately. 'But I don't want to.' He pulled Kzost back into the deep kiss and began to move in the rhythm of the Klingon's fingers.

"Tell me, Vulcan," Kzost husked in Klingonese, leaning back. "Tell me what you want."

"I want you inside me," Voren panted in the same.

"Say it."

"I just did."

"Say 'I want you to fuck me'," Kzost coached patiently.

"Does that mean the same thing?"

"Yes," Kzost said, realizing it was only a language problem.

"I." Voren licked his lips and looked into the Klingon's hot eyes. "Want." He leaned forward and licked the Kzost's lips. "You." He ran his teeth over Kzost's jaw line. "To." He bit the Klingon's earlobe hard and heard him gasp. "Fuck." He reached down and squeezed the head of Kzost's cock - hard. "Me," he whispered, rolling onto this stomach.

'Impressive,' Kzost thought as he settled himself between the Vulcan's thighs and put lots of Mvorian jelly on his cock. He slipped quite a lot more into Voren for good measure. He felt the Vulcan tense when he centered his cockhead on his anus. "Relax, Voren, relax." He felt the Vulcan obey a little. "I know this is difficult for you. We'll go on the count of three, yes?" He saw Voren nod and felt him relax a little more. "One." A little more relaxed. "Two," Kzost murmured as he pushed the head of his cock past the tight ring. "Three."

Voren gasped in pain and tightened but there was no way to push the Klingon out and no way to move forward away from him. He steeled himself against the pain and brought all his Vulcan mental discipline into play to overcome it. He took deep breaths, relaxed even more and was relieved the Klingon had not plunged in full length.

Kzost had sighed with pure bliss when Voren tightened on his cockhead. 'Ah, such rare and divine constriction,' he thought, 'and heat,' and had drawn on great reservoirs of restraint not to bury his cock to the hilt in the Vulcan. After all, Voren was still a virgin but not for much longer. He watched Voren's resistance subside and felt him relax more. He slowly pressed in a little further and a little further until he was all the way in. He bent to kiss the back of Voren's neck, rest and give them both a moment to adjust.

By the time Kzost hit bottom, Voren was completely surrendered to him and enjoying the Klingon inside him. 'Anything you want, Klingon,' he thought and was immediately glad they were not in a meld as he did not know what 'anything' might mean for a Klingon or this Klingon anyway. Marveling at how instinctual he was finding all this, Voren squirmed a little to let Kzost know he was ready to be fucked. He moaned softly.

"What?" Kzost leaned down.

"Fuck me."

"Ah."

Kzost began to move gently in short thrusts. He knew Voren was relaxed and slick enough but Kzost wanted to maintain control for as long as possible. He reached beneath the Vulcan and stroked his cock. He lengthened his strokes and was pleased to feel Voren thrusting up to meet them. They moved together in longer, harder and faster thrusts. Kzost decided he'd have more finesse next time but for now, he pounded into Voren until he felt the Vulcan climaxing and clenching around him. Kzost lunged once more into him and came with a strangled roar.

They lay panting together and trying not to black out.

Kzost gently pulled his soft exhausted cock out of the Vulcan and rolled onto his back, noting how hard the mattress was.

Voren rose gracefully and tottered to the bathroom. He returned with a wet towel and dropped it on the Klingon's chest.

"Thanks," Kzost said in Standard, cleaning himself up. He tossed the towel into a corner and pulled Voren back into his arms. "How do you feel?"

"Sore."

"Do you want to go again?"

"No. Not right now." Voren snuggled a little closer to the huge, cool, honey colored body.

"Ah." Kzost tightened his arm and dozed a little. He eventually went home and had dinner with Khatanya, who did not ask any embarrassing questions beyond, 'Where's your shirt?'

* * *

"I don't want to go."

"You must go."

"I want to go with you."

"You can't," Kzost said, trying once again to gently disengage Maja's arms from his neck. He'd succeeded in getting Maja to stop choking him at least.

Voren, Kzost and his escort had brought the Talljets to the transporter rendezvous to meet the doctors and go to the USS Lexington. Kzost had not expected to find himself in this futile argument with Maja. He declined all offers of assistance in favor of reasoning with the child.

"Why not?"

"Because I say so."

"Bah."

"Don't you 'bah' me, Maja." Kzost knelt and set Maja's feet on the ground. "Look, you can't come with me because I'm going where they eat little boys like you for breakfast."

"You'll protect me."

"I can't, Maja, there are some things I can't do."

Maja leaned back to look at him, his pointed little face was wet with tears. "Will I ever see you again, Klingon?"

"Yes, Maja. If that is god's will."

This was something Maja understood from the Talljet monks and Father Polmira: "Then we must pray for that, KzostGhet." He disengaged his hands from the Klingon's hair and kissed his cheek. He gave his Klingon one last long look and stepped back from him. He joined his brothers and allowed himself to be maneuvered into transporter position, his eyes never leaving Kzost's.

"Nine to beam up," Commander Costa, the exec of the Lexington, said into his communicator.

Commodore KzostGhet of the Klingon Empire brought his fist onto his chest in salute to Maja Talljet and his brothers. His entire escort followed suit. He watched Maja's eyes until they were gone. 'I will pray that we meet again, my Maja,' he thought sadly and turned to look into Voren's eyes.

"Aren't you going with them?" Kzost asked the Vulcan irritably.

"No. I am going with you. We discussed this," Voren said simply.

"Was I awake when we discussed this?"

"Yes. You agreed. Have you changed your mind, Klingon?"

"No. Come."

* * *

Twenty-nine years later aboard the KaraTienKa, Admiral KzostGhet looked down at Maja Talljet sobbing quietly on his chest, again. Only this time it was over the father, not the son. This time Maja was not a broken hearted teenager but broken hearted Master Ghet of the Klingon Empire.

He stroked Maja's curls and looked up at Hobie, pacing the cabin like a caged panther. He'd listened to the brothers tell their stories until it degenerated into an argument and Maja had flung himself, sobbing, into Kzost's arms and stayed there.

"Hobie, it's done, what are you still on about?" Kzost rumbled at the eldest Talljet.

"It's not done, Klingon." He gestured to Maja with his chin. "He's still upset about it."

"If you wanted him to be happy, you'd have left him with Sarek the Vulcan and to hell with everything else."

"That's not very helpful, Klingon," Hobie growled.

Kzost smiled; no matter what Hobie became, Kzost would always see him as an eleven year old, chasing after his wild little brother in the bazaar.

"I'm not here to be helpful, Hobie, I'm here to take Master Ghet back to the Klingon Empire," Kzost replied. "Back to the Commune and the Hierophant Kroldt."

Maja sighed and sat up, he was suddenly tired of Hobie and all the arguing. He gave his brother a weary look and shrugged: "Hochofedra, Nolo, hochofedra."

"Maja..." Hobie looked into his brother's sad eyes and trailed off. He lowered his eyes.

Maja smiled sadly at him and lay back against Kzost.

"Hobie, it's done. Why not go back to your ship and I'll see you next time. All right?" Kzost said quietly, unhappy to see the brothers at odds and so subdued. "I'll do what I can to twist the ransom you paid out of the Hierophant but I'll make no promises."

"All right, thanks," Hobie sighed and turned to Maja. "I'll see you in a few weeks on Zhaharnisha, okay, Maja?"

"Okay, Hobie," Maja rose and walked over to embrace his brother. 'It will be all right, in time, like last time, I won't die from this, I can't, you can't die from love, I know that, lord, don't I know that,' he thought as he let Hobie go.

He and Kzost watched Hobie transport back to his ship and turned to look at each other.

"Master Ghet," Kzost addressed him formally.

"Oh, Klingon," Maja sighed, "can't I just be plain old Maja for a while longer?"

"You are always that to me, my Maja," Kzost smiled.

Maja smiled, too: "In that case, where's my tea and cake, Klingon?"

* * *

"I want to know what these Klingon symbols mean as quickly as possible," Sarek handed the datapad to his son and rose. "I'm quite tired now; I would like to rest. Will you ask someone to show me my cabin, Spock?"

Spock looked across the briefing room at McCoy and Chapel standing helplessly by. They had met Sarek at the solar cat in the landing bay and were still trying to get him to sickbay for an examination.

"I would like to take you to sickbay to check your physical condition, Ambassador," McCoy said, hoping precise wording might change Sarek's mind.

"I assure you, Doctor, I am in perfect condition," Sarek was moving closer to the door. "I am merely tired and wish to rest." He looked mildly into the doctor's eyes.

McCoy knew this look all too well; he'd seen it often enough on Spock.

"Very well, Ambassador, I'll show you to your cabin," McCoy wisely agreed and allowed Sarek to precede him. Chapel followed with a medical scanner, just in case Sarek relented.

Spock looked down at the datapad he held and did not recognize the runes for Master Ghet and the Gozshedrefreingin Commune.

* * *

"How's the narrative coming, Tom?" Kirk asked, setting a fresh cup of coffee next to Commander Albany.

"Long and hard. Lot to tell, lot to say."

Kirk sat next to him and didn't ask anymore questions; Star Fleet, in the form of Commodore Yakolev, had a level five security code on the entire Rovirin incident. Upon receiving Albany's transmission that they were on their way home, Yakelov had sent the Enterprise and two ships from his escort to meet the solar catamaran. Kirk had noticed Maria Norris' absence but was unable to ask about it. He felt bad, he could see Albany was grieving and would like to have comforted him.

"I wish I could tell you, Jim....," Albany ran his hand through his dark hair and looked up at Kirk with sad black eyes.

"I know," Kirk murmured, "someday."

* * *

"It's Master Ghet's rune and the rune for the Gozshedrefreingin Commune. I remembered because I saw it on some holopix of the Tossarian gates I was studying." Janice Rand finished and stood back from Sarek. She had seen the symbols on the req for gen info Spock posted an hour earlier.

Sarek lowered his eyes and focused on the deck for a moment before he trusted his voice. "Thank you, Yeoman," he said quietly and turned away.

Spock also thanked Rand and saw her out of the guest cabin suite. He watched his father sit heavily in a chair and stare into space.

"Father, can I be of assistance?"

"No. I do not wish to keep you from your duties, my son."

"I am not on duty at present, sir."

Sarek neither spoke nor looked at Spock. His full concentration was on reviewing his adventure with Maja. It was being scrutinized for clues to Maja's true identity that the Vulcan might have missed in his ... confusion. Or his lust, perhaps was more accurate. Maja had given nothing away. Upon further reflection, Sarek decided that Maja had shown him his true identity from start to finish; that Master Ghet was likely the assumed role.

Nevertheless, it did not change the fact that Sarek now found himself in a delicate situation: he was still in love with Maja - a complex state made more complex by the half Mage's position in the Klingon Empire and with the Hierophant Kroldt.

Sarek turned his attention from his neatly ordered thoughts and looked at his son, seated across the room.

"Father, I do not wish to disturb you, however, I am curious about how you found Maja Talljet after all these years," Spock said delicately.

"Maja Talljet, my son, is Master Ghet."

* * *

"Hobie the Pirate, Jir the Dancer and Ling the Whore are Master Ghet's brothers?" Kirk asked, stunned.

Spock nodded. He looked into McCoy's sympathetic eyes and suddenly wished they were alone.

They were, however, in Kirk's cabin, watching him pace.

They were also a few hours from Rovirin. In the past two hours, Sarek had refused to speak with Sdiz, Yakolev, T'Pau, Amanda, Sovort, his assistant, KvsniviKhar, the Klingon Ambassador to Vulcan, Strivsiar, the head of the Vulcan Interplanetary Ministry, and T'Lau, the family's healer. He had, however, contacted his secretary, Smirek, and later spoken to his attorney, SerCixz, of the firm Talljet and Storen. Sarek chose not to divulge the subject of this conversation.

He had chased Spock out of his cabin and continued to refuse to be examined by Dr. McCoy. All communication ceased shortly thereafter.

Kirk had called them both together to try to piece together what the hell might be going on here. He was still pacing when he was paged to the bridge.

"I'll be right back," he said. "Stay here, please," and left.

McCoy murmured 'door lock' behind him and rose to put his arms around the still seated Vulcan. He ran his fingers through Spock's soft jet hair and over his shoulders until he felt the Vulcan relax infinitesimally.

"This must be quite a shock for you," McCoy soothed.

"Yes, it is," Spock agreed. He had actually been thinking about getting what you wish for, now that he was alone with McCoy. But he focused on the doctor's words more than his touch, or scent or sound of his voice. "I am also concerned about my father ..."

"Spock, I very much want him in sickbay..."

"Yes, Leonard, I understand. But you must realize that my father is not as easy to bully as I am," Spock said, rubbing his ear into McCoy's blue tunic clad belly. He turned his head into it to hide his smile as McCoy became outraged by this comment and then pulled the doctor down into a kiss that quickly transformed the human's rage into passion.

~

"I want to talk to Ambassador Sarek, Kirk, and I want to talk to him right now," Admiral Jessup said, highly annoyed that the Ambassador had not come directly to the bridge or even answered when Uhura commed him.

"Lieutenant Uhura, shipwide page for the Ambassador," Kirk muttered. "He's not talking to anyone, Admiral, I ..."

"I am not just anyone, Jim. If he won't answer, go get him. Or send Spock. A man listens to his own son." Jessup was brisk.

Kirk had a vague sense that he did not want to disturb Spock at just that moment and rose: "Admiral, I shall do my best," he said gallantly and turned to the turbolift, trying very hard not to feel like an errand boy.

"Come back with your shield or on it, Jim." Jessup smiled at last and switched off.

~

Spock pulled McCoy to the deck and freed the doctor's erection.

~

"Override," Kirk said to Sarek's door and hesitated before entering.

Sarek looked up blandly from the art journal monograph on Master Ghet and the Gozshedrefreingin Commune he was reading.

"I apologize for this intrusion, Ambassador," Kirk sighed.

~

Pinning McCoy to the deck, Spock bent to take the human's cock in his mouth. He did not allow McCoy to reciprocate.

"Oh, Spock, oh, Spock, oh..."

~

"Then it is serious if Admiral Jessup is involved," Sarek said quietly, rising. "Is there a secure place to speak to him, Captain?"

Kirk discarded his own cabin as an option and led Sarek to a briefing room.

~

Intent on bringing McCoy off as quickly as possible, Spock sucked the human deep into his throat and stroked him. He squeezed McCoy's ass in his hands and angled him deeper down his throat. He reached up once to gently press the doctor back onto the deck.

"Spock, I want..." McCoy trailed off, panting, trying not to come and not succeeding.

~

"I am unable to discuss this matter, Admiral, as it involves the Talljet brothers and I am uncertain of my position in regards to them at this time," Sarek said to Jessup's face in the viewer.

"I'm not interested in those pirates, Ambassador, I want to know what Sdiz and Yakolev are doing on Rovirin."

"I do not know, Admiral. As you know, I have been away for some time now. However, Ambassador Sdiz is a fully qualified Vulcan diplomat and he, like Yakolev, must be there at someone's behest, if not yours." Sarek did not care for Sdiz - the man was the worst combination of rich and vulgar. In the past, Sarek had had two difficult conversations with Sdiz: one about Hobie and the other about Jir, the subject of both was to encourage Sdiz to cease his pursuit. Sdiz had seen the logic of Sarek's argument in both cases, however, it left a pall between the men and they preferred not to work together if possible. However, whatever brought Sdiz to Rovirin was becoming more and more interesting to Sarek as he talked to Jessup.

"Ambassador, I don't care who sent them but I want them gone. I respectfully request that you, in the name of the Federation, assume responsibility for the situation on Rovirin." Jessup was nervous. He couldn't order the starships out of there because it would destabilize the entire quadrant. He could just feel the other sixty billion plus pirates in that sector breathing down his neck, waiting for the chance to pillage the Federation and non-aligned space that lay beyond Rovirin. 'Damn you, Yakolev. Talljet and his pirates were just making themselves useful and you had to go and ruin it.' He even spared a moment to regret the Klingons' departure, their presence on and around Rovirin had been useful as well in keeping the truly scary elements of that part of the galaxy in their own backyard.

"I cannot, Admiral," Sarek stated flatly. "As I understand the situation, Commodore Yakolev, in the name of the Federation, has seized Rovirin from the Talljets and the Klingons. I do not wish to antagonize either of these groups further. Were I to assume diplomatic leadership of this situation, both would conclude that I am in agreement with the actions of the Federation, when, in fact, I am in complete disagreement with the actions of the Federation in this matter." He drew a breath: "There is also a personal reason for my refusal. One of the Talljets and, indirectly, the Klingon Empire returned my life to me. I am in their debt."

~

McCoy placed his hand on Spock's flaccid penis and looked in the Vulcan's eyes.

"What's wrong, Spock, tell me."

"I do not understand the change in my father." He removed McCoy's hand and stood. He gave the doctor a hand up.

"Well," McCoy adjusted his clothes and smoothed his hair. "He looks okay, he says he's okay. What can you see that's different?"

"He seems sad. As if he is grieving for something. It is a human reaction I have never seen in my father." Spock looked at his lover. "I find it disconcerting."

McCoy put his arms around Spock and simply held him. He did not know what else to do.

* * *

"Your life would be infinitely simpler if you'd just fall in love with Kroldt and be done with it."

Maja looked over his cake and tea at Kzost: "I can't fall in love with him as long as you still live, Klingon. Amongst your kind, I only love you."

"Bah!"

"S'true. I'd swear it on Voren's life, I would."

"You leave Voren out of this. He knows you're jealous and he's giving you a wide berth."

"Jealous? Bah! I have your heart and that insect only has your body," Maja declaimed in his most arrogant Klingonese. "Which is getting older by the second. Doesn't your Vulcan take any care of you, KzostGhet?"

"He takes plenty of care of me, half Mage, so shut up or I'll go into detail until you blush."

"Ah, spare me, spare me." Maja drank some tea. "Listen, what if I didn't go back to the Commune? What if I went somewhere else, where no one knew me?"

"I would miss you."

Maja fought back his tears. "I'd tell you where I was and you could come see me sometimes. I could..."

"Maja," Kzost broke in gently, "what is this about?"

"I love him," Maja whispered as his tears spilled. "I just want to go somewhere and forget him. I don't want to see anyone I know, except you, or anything I know. I want ... I want to be with strangers in strange places. Thanks." He wiped his eyes on the handkerchief Kzost handed him and looked up. "Since when do Klingons carry hankies?"

"You've been crying since you got here, I'm trying to be flexible in this emergency." Kzost looked across the table at Maja and reminded himself that Maja was thirty-nine, not eight. "You know I will do whatever I can do for you, child, including dropping you in the far corner of the universe. However, please remember there are many people in the commune who love you very much and will be very glad to have you back with them. Have they ceased to matter to you?"

"Well, you know..."

"I know that Tien was born on this ship and I would be very sorry to tell him his parent has run away to forget yet another Vulcan lover."

"Klingon!"

"Or Hraja, or Farro or Prince Khat or that little apprentice with the big eyes you just took on, what's his name...?"

"Bhotebe."

"It's a terrible name but I saw that you like him. Are you leaving all that to mourn for another Vulcan lover you can't have?"

"Well, Klingon, some of us aren't as lucky as you with our Vulcans." Maja rose majestically and swept in front of Kzost on his way to the door.

He never got there. Kzost shot out an arm and pulled the half Mage onto his lap and held him there.

"Hey! Let me go, ridgehead!"

"Don't squirm like that, mongrel, or I might have impure thoughts."

Maja snuggled into the big body of the one being he loved more than anyone. He relaxed against him and allowed himself to feel safe and loved for a moment. This was easy, he was very safe and very loved here.

"Do you know why I love Voren so much, Maja?"

"Yes, but tell me again, I like to hear it."

"Because finding you and your brothers a safe home was the most important thing to him on Magidrian. He would have done anything for that, for you. What kind of Vulcan is that?"

"A crazy one; like all his family."

"Yes, very crazy to follow me all these years, pretending to be a Rom, or Xochian or whatnot so he could stay by my side. What kind of a Vulcan does that?"

Maja was silent.

"And yet your Vulcans leave you, Maja, for this or that or the other thing over there or Star Fleet. I agree it's bad luck or bad karma or bad timing but mostly just that Sarek and his son are so stupid they can't see they've thrown away the finest being in all the universe."

"He wanted to stay with me, Klingon, we were going to stay together, but the bounty hunters came and I had to make a deal to save him and ..."

"And now? Where is he now?"

"I dunno. Half way to Vulcan, I guess."

"Listen, MajaYaja, I don't disrespect Sarek the Vulcan. I've lived a little longer than you and have seen him stop wars, settle disputes and build alliances that will last a thousand years. I understand why you love him. He, of anyone in the galaxy, deserves your love. But he also knows that he's needed by many other people, too. Just as you are, Maja, just as you are."

Maja nodded sadly.

"So buck up, half Mage, bad times might be coming. The Emperor is sick and has no heir the Yhets and Haats can agree on. If he dies, the best hope is for Kroldt to step in as Regent for that sickly brat the Emperor's concubine squeezed out two years ago. Be Regent and rule until the Yhets and Haats find somebody they like better. Kroldt's the only one who can keep the Empire at peace and broker an agreement for the heir that won't tear the galaxy apart. And he's going to need all the help he can get, especially yours. The Haats lost some power when they lost Rovirin and you know what will happen if the Yhets are ascendant. The first groups they'll try to destroy are the Haats allies, which are you, me, the Hierophant, the commune and everything we care about."

They sat in silence contemplating this.

"And it's your own damn fault, Maja," Kzost growled after a moment. "I just wanted to put you and your babies in a safe place until the anti-Rom feeling died down in the Empire and that obscure commune seemed the perfect hide-out for you, Tien, Hraja and Prince Khat. How the hell did I know you were going to take over the Empire from the Hierophant's bed? I tell you, child, it's not my fault."

* * *

"So, Avara, what you're telling me is you tried to blackmail Sait, now known as Sarek of Vulcan, with the tape of him dancing with his gyharine, now known as Master Ghet of the Klingon Empire, and he told you to go to hell. Correct?" Obsta Fira leaned back in his arm chair, in his luxurious office on Broseria, surveying the late Nvra-miq's madam.

"Almost correct, Obsta. He said its dissemination did not concern him."

"Its what?" Taig put in, seated just behind Avara.

"Dissemination," she enunciated. " I had to ask, too. Means to spread something widely...."

"Like your legs?" Mogra asked, slouching by the window.

"Nope." Avara smiled at him. "Like the vid of Sait and Maja dancing at Nvra-miq's party."

"And he doesn't care," Obsta observed.

"Nope." Avara paused to put her plea in order. "Look Obsta, times are hard since Nvra-miq died. I've got a chance to start over, good house, good stable. All I need is the stake. I thought I could get it from Sait when I found out who he was but no go. What if I sell you the vid for half of what I asked him for?" She named a price that was triple what she'd asked Sarek.

Due to several very successful robberies, Obsta Fira was living large at the moment and took pity on Avara. Nevertheless, he haggled a little just for form and they finally agreed on half of what Avara was asking. He sent Taig off to get the amount in dilithium crystals.

"Here." Avara rose and handed him a disk. "Good luck, Obsta." She turned to go.

"How'd you get on Vulcan, Avara?" Obsta asked.

"Crystal cutter on Croza has a cousin who's an importer in the port on Vulcan," she tossed over her shoulder. "Name of MizqaDeVul, black sheep from some fancy Vulcan family. He's expensive but the docs are so good nobody asks you any questions. He got me in as a courier for a data company out on Nomsta in the old Tasilinian Empire..."

"Oh, yeah, what do they call it now it's Federationafied?"

"The Tasilinian Association."

They both made a face. Avara accepted the bag of crystals and turned to the door.

* * *

Sarek had returned to Vulcan and moved into an apartment on the Strand. That the Strand was the most fashionable address in Shirkar was of little consideration. It was close to his office in the Vulcan Interplanetary Ministry. He could walk to and from work and he was doing just that when he heard footsteps mimicking his. Dusk was rapidly falling and he slowed down so Obsta Fira could come abreast of him.

"Hullo, Sait," Obsta murmured in a Rom dialect native to the Nzrealian homeworld. To Vulcan speakers, it sounded like ungrammatical Vulcan with a hellish accent but, fortunately for Obsta and his gang, it did not arouse anyone's suspicion.

"Hello," Sarek paused over what to call the thief. "Sir."

"Obsta Fira, Sait, I'm actually here on legit business." Obsta smiled, remembering how Mizqa had discovered that investment bankers in pursuit of development funding for one of the newest members of the Federation could get Nomsta visas into the Federation provided they had a real or imaginary corporation behind them somewhere. It was an hour's work for Obsta to cook up the First Bank of Kri and the paperwork flew on golden wings from there.

"Obsta." Sarek murmured, trying to suppress the rush of memory and longing for Maja the sight of this rascal provoked.

"Look, Sait, can't we go somewhere quiet and talk?"

"Yes. Come home with me. It is not far." Sarek turned and noticed a shadow nearby. "Are you alone?"

"Taig and Mogra."

"Bring them." The Vulcan moved off as Obsta beckoned his henchmen out of the shadows. They followed him down the street and into an elegant apartment building.

They settled into Sarek's featureless living room of rented furniture with the tea he offered them. They had refused wine as they wanted to keep their heads about them. All three had been deeply impressed by the almost effortless order of Shirkar and realized that one false move would give them away.

"Here," Obsta said, handing the disk to Sarek. "It's you and Maja dancing at Nvra-miq's party on Imk. I heard what happened. Thought you might like to have it as a memento of all that."

"Thank you." Sarek accepted the disk and put it into the viewer next to him. "What did you hear, Obsta?"

"That the Klingons dragged Master Ghet out of your arms and back to the Gozshedrefreingin Commune. That his heart is broken and nobody cares as long as he makes statues for the Zhaharnisha Cathedral." Obsta paused to watch Sarek lower his eyes. "On the way here I heard you divorced your Terran wife and tried to resign your job but got talked out of it or threatened out of it by someone high up in the Federation. It's all very vague about you, seems the Vulcans don't like to gossip as much as the Klingons."

"Vague but true, Obsta. A member of my family convinced me my duty was to Vulcan more than myself and so I remained with the Interplanetary Ministry."

"But not with your wife?"

"No."

"You want him back, don't you?" Obsta asked after a short silence.

"More than anything."

Obsta gave this some thought. He'd never liked Maja much but he had always respected the love between him and Sait. And now, what was different? Although they were no longer Sait and gyharine, but two of the most powerful men in the galaxy, they were still as much in love as ever. At least Sait was and the rumors in the Klingon Empire were that Master Ghet was the same.

"Well, Sait, you're the smartest being I've ever met or heard of," Obsta drawled. "What are you going to do about it?"

* * *

"Getting to Zhaharnisha is a bit tricky, ma'am," the freighter captain said, as he surveyed the dusty woman before him. He knew she'd come to Hozlostra on a commercial craft but could not imagine why she wanted to go on to Zhaharnisha. There was nothing there but a bunch of Klingon monks. He was taking a load of Hozlostra marble from the quarry to them for the barracks they were building there. "I've got a stop on Lzoast and Vremaia first. I don't really have room for passengers, either. I do need a maid aboard, if you can do that."

"When do we leave?" Amanda asked.

* * *

Sarek sat watching the vid of him and Maja dancing a Shakaar on Imk over and over.

There had been an ugly scene on Rovirin with Amanda. Apparently the Federation bar had an arrangement with Star Fleet that Yeoman Notaries could serve papers on behalf of Federation attorneys anywhere in Federation space. SerCixz, Sarek's attorney, had had Amanda served before the Enterprise had returned.

"Why do you want a divorce, Sarek?" She had been very calm.

"I am no longer committed to you, Amanda."

"Why not?"

"My commitment has shifted to Maja Talljet."

"He is not here."

"That does not affect the situation."

"Sarek, what happened between you and Maja does not concern me. It does not affect our marriage."

"It does affect our marriage, Amanda. What happened between Maja and myself concerns me very much and I am entirely changed by it."

And another with T'Pau over the comm.

"I expect you to return to Vulcan and take up your duties. If you wish to divorce Amanda, so be it, but you must return here."

"I intend to seek out Maja Talljet in the Klingon Empire."

"Alone? That is unwise as you will see if you give it a moment's consideration. Far better to return here and make whatever arrangements you can through the Ministry and the family. I do not object to your liaison with Maja Talljet, although the Klingons are not likely to be so forgiving. Has it not occurred to you, Sarek, how beneficial Master Ghet's removal from the Klingon sphere of influence would be to the Federation?"

"No. It has not."

T'Pau's argument was compelling and he had returned alone. Amanda had remained on Rovirin to arrange transport to Terra from there.

As he watched the swirl of color and form that had been the most beautiful night of his life, Sarek let his conversation with the Hierophant play across his mind.

"You're willing to retire from diplomacy if I give you Master Ghet, Vulcan?"

"Yes."

* * *

"A much better dancer than his son, dontcha think, Nolos?" Hobie asked Jir and Ling on the viewscreen of the Zoltir.

They nodded but remained silent, watching Sarek and Maja dancing their Shakaar on Imk.

"What did you pay for this, Ling?" Hobie asked at length.

"Nothing, Hobie, it's all over non-aligned space," Ling answered. "It's the most beautiful story of doomed love to come out of the Sargasso Space in living memory. Even the Klingons are in tears about it."

"Not enough to send him back to Sarek?" Hobie asked, alarmed. He'd only recently felt like things were going back to normal. Jir with the Sultan of Orissa again, Ling in his joyhouse, himself back on his ships and Maja back in the Commune.

Ling and Jir shook their heads.

"Well, that's good," Hobie asserted.

"Not really, Hobie," Jir cut in sharply. "The Klingons might be in tears over this doomed love but it's also put Maja in danger. They might not know why Maja risked everything for the Vulcan but if they ask enough questions in the Federation they're bound to find out that Maja is our brother. Officially, the Klingons detest all of us. Unofficially, we have a lot of friends there. However, if someone powerful enough, say the Yhet clan, who truly despise us, decided it would be politically expedient to burn Maja at the stake because he is related to us evil Talljets, I FEEL CERTAIN YOU WON'T THINK THIS IS SUCH A GREAT THING ANYMORE."

"Jir, please,..." Hobie began.

"WERE WE STUPID, HOBIE? DID WE REALLY THINK WE COULD JUST SEND HIM BACK THERE AS IF NOTHING HAD HAPPENED?"

Hobie sat back to think about this. He had been so angry to see the love between Sarek and Maja, he had not really thought about how it had changed them and everything around them. His only thought had been to separate them and get Maja back where he could continue to do the most good for the brothers. Now that decision seemed as hasty to him as it obviously did to Jir.

"Okay, Jir, what do we do now?"

"Get them out of there, now."

"And take them where?"

* * *

***End of Part III***