Title: After the Rescue

Part: NEW 36/73

Author: Karmen Ghia, karmen_ghia@yahoo.com

Series: TOS

Romance Code: S/Mc and then some.

Rating: NC-17

Appendices: http://members.tripod.com/karmen_ghia/atrappendices.html

See part one for disclaimers, etc.

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.

* * *

end of part 36

This story also lives at http://members.tripod.com/karmen_ghia/

Appendices: http://members.tripod.com/karmen_ghia/atrappendices.html