After the Rescue, by Karmen Ghia, part fifty-one

Title: After the Rescue

Part: NEW 66/73

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

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

See part one for disclaimers, etc.

"Good evening, Admiral," Jessup said to the Klingon ambassador, KahbreKyrit of Klingon, at the bar.

"Admiral." The Klingon nodded graciously. "Are you enjoying the evening?"

"Thus far, sir," Jessup assured him. "Certainly more than I enjoyed my afternoon." He and KahbreKyrit had gone round and round about Rovirin and still no solution was reached.

"Let us enjoy this evening, Admiral," KahbreKyrit said gruffly. "Tomorrow the Hierophant Kroldt will arrive and hopefully a more fruitful negotiation will be possible."

"Maja," Jir said suddenly, urgently and compellingly. "Lend me something to wear." Jir started ripping off his very staid Vulcan robe.

Maja shrugged and went to his closet. He looked over its meager contents: two cassocks, a tunic and some leggings. He opened another section and pulled out a brightly painted, intricately pleated skirt of silky, billowy material. "You'll have to settle with Tien, Nolo, I made this for his birthday next week. Here," Maja said, handing his naked brother a dark teal tunic. "This goes with it."

"Not my color," Jir said, tucking the tunic into the skirt and admiring himself in the glass nonetheless. "But I bet it looks smashing on Tien."

"Poor Tien," Ling said.

"I'll take him to my tailor for his birthday," Jir snapped. "Okay, what can we find for Hobie?"

"I'll wear my prison romper," Hobie said.

"Might as well, it's actually rather flattering." Jir turned to his younger brothers. "Ling?"

"This Vulcan robe will have to do, NoloJir."

"It does." Jir zeroed in on Maja. "And you, MajaYaja?"

"I'll stick to my cassock."

"Okay." Jir straightened his shoulders. "Hochofedra." He shrugged. "Hemzjit."

Even though the party was not even half way to the arc of its trajectory their entrance was hardly noticed by the revelers.

Hobie and Jir made a beeline for T'Paga.

"You don't mind if I dance with your wife, d'ya Spoda?" Hobie asked, edging Jir out by a hair.

"I want to dance with T'Paga!" Jir snapped.

"I would like to dance with her myself," Spoda said, taking T'Paga's arm and leading her to the floor.

"Wanna dance, Jir?" Hobie asked after a moment of awkward silence.

"I'm here, I might as well."

"What is Hobie wearing?" SerNera asked Smvit.

"I've no idea," Smvit answered. "It looks like some sort of coverall, doesn't it?"

"Would you dance with me, Vulcan?" Major KzinivDhalk, in his perfect Vulcan, asked SaDrosta. "I have seen you dance in concert, it would be an honor to dance with you."

SaDrosta was never one to refuse a nicely phrased and grammatical request. Not a big fan of Klingons, he did not find this one particularly repulsive. "Do you know how to dance an Imman, Klingon?" He looked up at Kziniv half challengingly, extending his wrists.

"We Klingons have a dance that is very similar," Kziniv said, pulling SaDrosta into his arms. "It's called a Shakaar." And swept the Vulcan away without protest.

"A Shakaar, a Shakaar!" Maja chanted, seeing Kziniv and SaDrosta glide across the floor. "Dance with me Master Khat!"

And they did. They were an inspiration to many other couples, who switched from Immans to Shakaars.

"Allow me to congratulate you, Ambassador." Sdiz said to Sarek, standing at one of the bars.

"On what?" Sarek noted that the Sas were emptying at least half of their excellent cellar.

"On succeeding where I did not."

"Clarify."

"In seducing SaHobie."

"Indeed." Sarek held the Vulcan's eye. "Thank you."

"I never knew Vulcans and Klingons could dance that close," Jessup observed to Hobie after he'd introduced himself. They stood watching Kziniv and SaDrosta making diplomatic, if not dance, history.

"Depends on the Vulcan and the Klingon. Those two happen to look very good together," Hobie said. "Speaking of looking good, Admiral, where's Chekov?"

"Chekov?"

"Yes, Chekov. That pretty little navigator from the bridge of the Enterprise," Hobie persisted. "He's exactly what's missing from this party."

"Perhaps he wasn't invited."

"An outrage!"

Jessup narrowed his eyes at him, considering. "I'll see what Kirk can do. Excuse me."

"Absolutely." Hobie wandered away with a lighter heart.

"C'mon T'Pring, dance with me," Jir said bluntly. "You're here, you might as well."

"As you wish, Jir," she said, extending her hands, claws (sorry, palms) up.

"Chekov?" McCoy asked, after Kirk flagged him off the dance floor where he'd been Shakaaring with Grace Blyton.

"Yes. Jessup wants Chekov here, dressed up and looking good, right now, if not sooner." Kirk looked at Spock, who'd just joined them. "Do we know where Chekov is, Spock?"

"He went on shore leave six hours ago."

"Great," McCoy grumbled. "That means he'll be drunk as a skunk and probably getting laid in the Port by now."

Kirk looked at his two closest friends, trusted officers and the most resourceful beings he knew. "Go. Get him."

"Sarek had no qualms about fathering a child with your brother, Jir," T'Pring observed in her usual blunt instrument fashion as they danced.

"Oh, well, T'Pring. I don't see you and Stonn exactly repopulating the planet," Jir said offhandedly. His guard was down so when T'Pring raked his face with her nails, he hardly had time to react. Trying to shield his eyes, he dragged the struggling female to the floor with him.

Hobie, Maja and Ling flung themselves through the crowd and separated them.

"What's going on over there?" Montana Wolfe wondered.

"I've no idea, Commodore," Yakolev told her.

Hobie applied himself to healing the cuts on Jir's cheeks and forehead. "Had to go right for a nerve, didn't you, Jir?"

"She started it."

"Oh, please." Ling rolled her eyes, not in solidarity with T'Pring but in exasperation with Jir, who knew or should know this Vulcaness well enough not to provoke her.

"Well," Jir muttered. "She did."

"Bored yet?" Charbon asked Lapham.

"Heavens, no!"

"What goes on?" SaBrzia asked, hearing the commotion.

"T'Pring attacked Jir," SiRond told him, trying to see into the swirling mass around T'Pring and Jir. "Or vice versa."

Seeing Stonn rush up, T'Pring's father rose to go to her defense.

SaGolia laid a hand on his arm. "Let the children settle it among themselves, Lord Svreg."

Wisely, he sat back down.

The Klingons were highly amused by the wrangle and wished it had lasted longer.

"Hey!" one of them called. "Does that little girl need a big knife? I've got one she can use!" And laughed in the most offensive Klingon way possible.

Maja rose up to his full height: "Shut up, you fucking stupid Klingons! I've never heard anything so fucking stupid in my life!" he yelled in his most barracks Klingonese.

SaBrzia raised his voice to be heard over the din:

"Children, it's a big house again. Quiet corners can be found for all of you, if necessary.

"And SaMaja, watch your language. If you're going to swear at the Klingons, decline your nouns properly."

Jir, healed and recovered, signaled the band to start playing again. "Come on, T'Pring, hochofedra," he shrugged. "Let's finish this dance and be friends. Anything else is a waste of time."

She agreed and peace was restored.

For the time being.

Tracing the ensign's FIS (Federation Identifier Signal), Spock and McCoy found Chekov passed out over a table in one of the medium reputable bars in the Port of Vulcan. Spock draped the drunken ensign over his shoulders and they transported directly into sickbay where McCoy proceeded to sober Chekov up with his time tested methods.

After pumping Chekov's stomach and shooting him full of vitamins and mild stimulants, McCoy sent him for a run around the track. When the sweaty ensign returned to sickbay, McCoy drew out a length of tubing and told him to drop his pants.

"Why?" the thus far cooperative ensign asked dubiously.

"I'm going to give you a high colonic," McCoy said soothingly. "After that and a shower, you'll feel very pure."

Chekov, not sure he wanted to be so pure, could not but allow the doctor to proceed. The request from Hobie, via Admiral Jessup, via Kirk, via Spock had been carefully explained to him and Chekov felt the honor of the Enterprise, perhaps the entire Fleet depended upon his actions tonight. It was, in many ways, an honor, however embarrassing. Or uncomfortable. Or...?...!

Leaving Chekov in McCoy's very capable hands, Spock had gone to the ensign's cabin to choose something suitable for the young Terran to wear. He found that Chekov had nothing suitable to wear. Spock noticed a package addressed to the ensign from a very expensive and fashionable Shirkar tailor on Chekov's desk. The transporter room personnel had made a notation that the package, scanned for safety and determined harmless, had arrived after Chekov had gone on leave. He opened the card attached.

It read: "Dear Chekov, I dearly hope that you will enjoy wearing this when you meet my brother, Hobie, tonight at the Sas. Very truly yours and LLAP, M. Talljet."

Spock wondered if Maja's second sight extended to knowing Chekov's size as well. It did not, but Ling's computer base dug that information out of the Star Fleet provisioning records, so the belted, velvet trimmed long sleeved tunic and tight leggings in jet Ozrian silk and the low heeled pumps did, in fact, fit perfectly.

"How do you feel, Ensign?" Spock asked the sobered up and glowing youngster as he and McCoy entered his cabin.

"Very pure."

Spock ignored McCoy's smug smile and held out the elegant clothing to Chekov. "You can wear these."

"Very becoming, Chekov, like they were made for you," McCoy said when the fully dressed ensign stood before them.

"Yes." Spock looked at his wrist chrono. They had accomplished their mission in one hour and fifteen minutes. According to Spock's plan, they were fifteen minutes behind schedule.

McCoy noticed the Vulcan's microscopic consternation. "Come on, Cinderella," he said to Chekov. "Let's go to the ball."

"That," Maja said, seeing Chekov for the first time as the ensign, McCoy and Spock entered the ballroom, "is what all the fuss is about?"

"Yes." Ling said, noting that Chekov was as adorable as ever. "Smashing outfit. Someone with exquisite taste and an eye for what pleases Hobie must have chosen it for him."

Maja rolled his eyes and said nothing. After all, Hobie had been through so much, he deserved a little treat and Maja felt nothing was too much trouble to please his Nolo. He'd figure out how to pay the tailor and shoemaker bill - later.

"Ah, there you are." Hobie beamed as he made straight for Chekov.

Chekov shrank back a little; he was unprepared for how overwhelming the pirate was going to be in person. A little taller than Spock, Hobie seemed gigantic and terrifying to the ensign. Chekov calmed somewhat when Spock put a hand on his shoulder to steady him. 'I can do this, I know I can do this. Whatever this is,' Chekov thought wildly.

"No, no, no. Don't be nervous, Chekovfara," Hobie soothed, reaching for the youngster. "Come dance a Shakaar with me and you'll feel much better." He winked at Spock and glided away with his arms full of Chekov.

'That,' Jessup thought, seeing Chekov for the first time as the ensign, McCoy and Spock entered the ballroom, 'is what all the fuss is about?' Shaking his head, he watched Hobie Shakaar away with the youngster.

"Oh, there's Chekov," Carlos Sunna pointed out to Thomas Albany. "The object of Hobie Talljet's desire."

"Lucky Chekov," Albany observed.

"And you would know how lucky, wouldn't you, Tom?" Sunna laughed.

Maja, seeing Hobie set with Chekov, Ling dancing with Stez and Jir chatting happily with T'Paga, stepped out onto the patio for a breath of fresh air. He found Sarek doing the same.

"Hullo, Sait."

"My Maja." Sarek looked at his lover. "Will you dance with me?"

"Only if you hold me close and look at me as if there were no one else in the universe," Maja said, dreamily.

"The first is easily done, the second illogical, but I will do my best in both." The Vulcan took Maja's outstretched hands and twisted them up behind his back.

They glided around the patio a few times and back into the ballroom where their entrance was hardly noticed in the crush there.

"You're much more beautiful up close, Chekov."

"Oh... thank you."

"You dance quite well, too."

"The Shakaar is a very popular dance in the Federation right now. Many people are learning it."

"Oh really?" Hobie asked serenely, looking wolfish. "Has it penetrated so far?"

Chekov nodded uncertainly and lowered his eyes.

Looking up from his very enjoyable chat with Storen, Ling saw Laninin, in his pajamas and seated on SaBrzia's knee, looking very much like he was describing the goings on in the room to the old Vulcan.

Ling excused herself and so as not to draw attention to her destination, circled away from her target. 'Well, why not,' she thought, glancing up at the mezzanine, where Tien and Kalzat, Ro and Polmira, Hraja and Ko were Shakaaring the night away and the other JetCheqs and the Commune youngsters looked on when they all should have been in bed some time ago. 'Everybody else is here.' Only Jir's two youngest, Rezdi and Catanya, who were still toddlers and needed their sleep, were missing.

Slipping up behind the two, Ling caught part of their conversation: "... in the blue gown and white hair."

"Yes, fair dancing. Nothing like we had when I was young."

Ling noticed Laninin's hand in SaBrzia's: "Laninin."

"Yes, Ling." The child did not turn.

"Are you seeing with SaBrzia?"

"Yes, Ling."

Ling was impressed into silence. 'So you can see and see for others as well, you little empath monster baby. Qhoshi will have a fit when she finds out.'

"It's past your bedtime, Laninin," SaBrzia said softly.

"I want to stay," the child said. "Interesting things are going to happen. I want to see them."

"Like what?" Ling asked, intrigued.

"Like that." Laninin pointed and Ling turned to find the Hierophant Kroldt, his escort, Admiral KzostGhet, Captain Khatanya, and SaVoren advancing through the crowd toward them. General KmordriYhet and his escort were right behind them.

'God in heaven.' Ling thought, stepping back to make room for the huge Klingons before SaBrzia.

"We could settle the disputed space around Rovirin in an hour if we could only get enough ranking Klingons and Federation representatives in one room." Jessup was saying to T'Pau. "That would require a summit of an unthinkable magnitude and there simply isn't the will on Terra for such a project now." He turned to look at whatever T'Pau was so interested in behind him.

"The first step, Admiral, might simply be welcoming the Hierophant and the General to Shirkar." She led him to the group being introduced to SaBrzia.

"Kzost!" Hobie said, delighted. "Will you excuse me, Fara?"

Chekov graciously agreed and watched the pirate slicing through the crowd like a knife to get to the group of newcomers.

"The Hierophant!" Admiral KahbreKyrit choked slightly on his wine. "Is early."

"And General KmordriYhet as well," KzinivDhalk observed.

They made their way through the crowd to greet the newcomers.

"Khatanya!" Jir sighed and excused himself from Lady Amanda.

Malira, registering KmordriYhet's presence, simply raised her fan a little higher and slipped away into the crowd.

"I hope you will forgive me for coming here without notice," the Hierophant said in Klingonese and waited for his translator to put it into Standard.

"Turn that creature off, Hierophant," SaBrzia growled in Klingonese. "We all speak tolerable Klingon here."

"How civilized," Kroldt growled. "I am impatient, then, to speak to Master Ghet. Where is he?"

"Oh, he's around here somewhere. SaCriz," SaBrzia said. "Get all these guests something to drink." He turned to Hobie, who'd just joined the group. "Where's your brother?"

"Which one?"

"Maja."

"Maja? Oh, he's somewhere around here."

"And just where is your attention wandering to, Vulcan?" Maja, in Sarek's arms, scolded him.

"I am watching T'Pau speaking to the Hierophant Kroldt and some other people who've just arrived, my Maja," Sarek said, turning his attention back to the half Mage.

"Oh, well. Just ignore them. Maybe they'll go away."

Seeing Kmordri below him, Hraja's heart froze.

"...and may I present General KmordriYhet of Klingon ..." The Hierophant was trying to finish introducing everyone to T'Pau and Jessup when Hobie knocked Kmordri to the ground.

"Don't go anywhere," Dolo-fra said to Mr. Scott as he darted off to offer whatever assistance Hobie needed.

Neria-Tza got there first. "What goes on, Captain?" he asked in Patois, looking hard at Kmordri, whom he'd last seen asleep. It was similar to now: the Klingon had been laying down but, unlike now, he was awake and nursing his jaw, which had just received a sharp blow from Hobie's fist.

"Go put a guard around my nephew," Hobie growled in Patois.

Neria-Tza didn't have to ask which one. He glanced up at Hraja's stricken face on the mezzanine. "It is done."

"What an utterly astonishing party!" Lapham observed to Lady T'Pnov. "I'd no idea Vulcan gatherings were so... so interesting."

"Shirkar has always been somewhat more unruly than the smaller cities of Vulcan," she said serenely. "It was a frontier boom town for quite a while and now the Port of Vulcan is so near, some of the cosmopolitan wildness has spilled into society here."

"I see," Lapham murmured, wondering how mind crushingly dull the rest of the planet must be.

"SaHobie, leave the room," SaBrzia ordered in a voice that would not be denied.

Hobie found Ling at his elbow, pulling him away, and so, dear reader, we shall never know how close Kmordri was to death at that moment.

Kzost, Kroldt and Khatanya exchanged looks and shrugs as if to say that were Hraja their nephew, Kmordri would have been dead a long time ago.

Kroldt spotted Maja on the dance floor Shakaaring with Sarek. "Do you dance, T'Pau?"

"Rarely."

"Make an exception." He whisked the startled Vulcaness away in a Shakaar before she could protest.

"Look at that," T'Poldi, Sirev's grandmother, said to her lover, SaGolia.

"Isn't that just like T'Pau, to monopolize all the interesting men," SaGolia said, disgusted. "She hasn't changed since we were girls, has she?"

"I think she's dancing a little better."

"It's her partner, Poldi, not her." SaGolia drew her lover into an Imman. "Do not be confused."

"Are you all right, General?" Admiral KahbreKyrit asked as Major KzinivDhalk helped Kmordri to his feet.

"I believe I will be," Kmordri said, looking up at Hraja withdrawing from the Mezzanine.

The Klingons excused themselves to SaBrzia and withdrew to the bar. Kmordri directed them in a wide circle away from MajaKhat, whom he'd spotted in the crowd earlier.

"Are you all right?" Hobie put his arms around Hraja to stop the youth's trembling.

"What's he doing here?"

"I've no idea," Hobie said soothingly. "But don't worry, little one, we'll keep him away from you..."

"Or die trying, Hraja," Neria-Tza assured him.

"That Klingon will die trying to get to you, Hraja," Mizat put in.

"I promise." Hobie pressed a kiss to his nephew's subtly ridged Klingon forehead.

"Khatanya!" Jir threw himself into his favorite Klingon's arms.

"Control yourself, half Mage," Khatanya growled. "You'll frighten the Vulcans. Where's yer hair, Jir?"

"I'll tell you while we dance," Jir said, dragging the Klingon onto the dance floor.

Kzost and Voren looked on, amused. At least Kzost was amused. Voren looked a little nervous as he bent to speak into SaBrzia's ear.

The Hierophant danced T'Pau across the floor and slammed her into Sarek and Maja. "Sorry. Change partners." He yanked Maja out of Sarek's arms. "I need to talk to you, Gozine. Now, somewhere quiet, preferably horizontal." He tried to steer Maja away by the elbow but found T'Pau had the half Mage's other arm in a firm grip.

"I think these Vulcans want to talk to you, Master," Maja said blandly.

"Indeed, SaMaja," T'Pau said. "If you will find us a room with a table large enough to seat the Hierophant, the Klingon ambassador, his aide - Major KzinivDhalk, Admiral Jessup, his aide - Commander Ripley, Sarek and myself, plus a few Klingon/Standard, Klingon/Vulcan translators, it would greatly facilitate our discussion."

Maja knew an order when he heard one. "Yes, ma'am."

So did the Hierophant because he let go of his priest and wistfully watched him disappear into the crowd on his errand.

"HE'S YOUR WHAT?" SaBrzia bellowed, staring at Kzost.

"My lover," Voren said blandly. "These past thirty years."

"JIR! Put this child to bed," SaBrzia handed him Laninin, who was half asleep anyway. SaBrzia was happy to lapse back into his sightless state; he'd seen enough for one night. "Send Hobie back in if he can control himself."

"I am sorry to leave you like that, Chekov," Hobie said, returning to the ensign's side. "Some things are unavoidable."

"It is quite all right."

Hobie scanned the room for Kmordri and didn't find him. He saw Sarek, T'Pau, admiral Jessup, the Hierophant, some other Klingons and a Terran talking together. Jir was dancing with Khatanya, Ling with Qhoshi and they seemed to be deep in a serious conversation. Maja was darting around doing something. Voren and Kzost were Shakaaring. They had recovered from SaBrzia's shocked reaction to Voren's announcement that he and the Klingon had been lovers for thirty years. SaBrzia had simply said they would discuss it, if there were anything to discuss, in the morning. Technically it was already morning but Voren and Kzost took the hint and made tracks.

"Dance." Hobie dragged Chekov back onto the floor. He had a feeling he wanted to be near SaBrzia. He'd just caught sight of a dusty grey robe moving in that direction.

end of part 66

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