Title: After the Rescue

Part: NEW 9/73

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.

While appearing to be the mildest and gentlest of the brothers, Ling was the most realistic, logical and hardheaded of them. He knew unspeakable things could happen in this life and that they could be survived. All one needed was to keep moving and jump on the next opportunity. And always watch your back yourself, it was dangerous to think that there would always be someone there to save you.

He was thinking about his brothers and Maja in particular. Maja had been late but not too late getting to Lazroid's lab. But Ling could never convince him of that. Maja was guilt-ridden, all his brothers were guilt ridden about it. And afraid, afraid of seeing a danger too late to prevent it. They had removed Ling's pain but not his fear. That had gone later, when he knew Wilton was dead, when he knew he would survive anything because he had survived the rape.

But Ling knew and knew well that there is nothing you can do about the past but live with it.

His brothers did not have the comfort of such knowledge. They still flailed around, dodging each blow as it came, hoping to be quick enough, smart enough, whatever enough to make a home somewhere somehow.

Ling did not worry. That was illogical. He carried his home within him and his strength was knowing that this too shall pass and if life did not kill you, it made you strong and possibly wise.

In Ling's case it also made him rich. He liked money, he thought it was beautiful, like a river that flows and changes and is never the same river twice. A combination of patience, shrewdness and second sight had accomplished his fortune. Also a certain amount of inside information – he didn't run an empath whorehouse for nothing. His girls not only fulfilled the wildest fantasies of their clients, they also forged a link with them that gave them access to whatever the punter knew. The Bonding, with certain variations and improvements, was one of the many useful things Ling had picked up on Vulcan. Only the richest and most powerful beings could afford Ling's. It was his policy.

Well, it had been a good game for a long time until one of the Federation's human punters got scared and went to Vulcan to see what was wrong with him. He was having strange dreams and hearing voices; an unfortunate side effect of the whore's bonding on the weaker species. A Vulcan healer had undone the intricate ties and alerted the Federation to the dangers of Ling's house. No direct action could be taken since Ling's business was in non-aligned space and therefore unregulated. However, Star Fleet made it off limits to its people and a general warning was issued through the Federation.

This did not concern Ling. He had enough Federation informants and could get more if needed, they were a gullible lot, especially the Terrans. But who needed it? It's a big galaxy, plenty of other rivers to swim in. And so he did.

And now, after all these years, he was going to see SpockDeVulCheq again. How he had idolized Spock on Vulcan. Maja had been in love with him but Ling had had his own crush on him. How disappointing that Spock chose Star Fleet, T'Pring and the code of Surak over the four beings that truly loved him.

'Hochofedra' (ah well, life goes on somehow), Ling mused, shrugging, 'what can you do?'

He nodded to a Minarien trader in his stall just outside the Federation compound on Omega 12. Wherever the Federation set up shop it attracted all sorts of camp followers. They were particularly useful on this planet because the Omegans had given up agriculture several thousand years ago and the Terrans would have starved without food from their ships and the bazaar.

'I wonder what conclusions the Terrans haven't drawn from the lack of definable culture on this planet?' Ling was amused. 'Can't they see superior beings when they are in front of them? I guess not. It'd make the Vulcans laugh.'

He stood in the doorway of the compound where he attracted a great deal of attention. Or rather his clothing did. He was wearing a cobalt blue gown with a wide skirt and three meter train, huge sleeves, tight bodice and a huge and outrageous broad brimmed blue hat trimmed in Trezo feathers.

Ensign Chekov was nonplussed: this was the last thing he'd expected to see on this routine assignment on this dusty, boring planet. Then he wondered how the visitor was going to get his hat through the door. He walked right up to the creature and very politely asked what he could do for him.

'Much,' Ling thought, 'but you'd have to lose the uniform.' However, he said, in Standard: "I'm looking for SpockDeVulCheq."

"There is Mr. Spock, he is our First Officer. Would that be him?" Chekov was polite.

"Tall, ugly, stupid, half-breed Vulcan. Yes, that's him."

"We have no such person! Our Mr. Spock is the finest First Officer in the Fleet." Chekov's blood was up: no one insulted Spock in front of him.

Ling considered: 'Well, Spock, you lucky lucky lucky dog, you, so at least someone in the galaxy loves you a little. How nice for it to be this pretty child.' He suppressed an urge to brush the dark brown hair off Chekov's creamy brow and said at the top of his voice: "Well, since he's already paid for the blow job, he should either get it or give it away. I'm a busy man, I don't have time to stand here chatting with you, how ever pleasant that might be."

"GYHARINE!" Dr. McCoy had just caught sight of Ling. Chekov took the opportunity to flee and leave this situation to his shipmate.

The traders looked up in shock and surprise. Gyharine means 'boy for sale' in the Patois and was never shouted outside of the pleasure districts and rarely there.

"LEONARD!" Ling flung himself into McCoy's outstretched arms.

"Whatever are you doing here, Gyharine?" The traders were completely horrified by the Terran's cultural faux pas and his obliviousness to it.

"Ah, well, listen Leonard, you're scaring the horses and the traders. Maybe you'd better call me by my real name."

"Which is?"

"Ling Talljet."

McCoy took a startled step backward and then whispered: "I thought your name was Ghy ..."

"Well, it was, sometimes. But I'm rather out of that line of work these days."

"I'm not sure I understand."

"Leonard," Ling chuckled and lowered his voice as well as his eyes, "'gyharine' means 'boy for sale' and is what the pimps call from the whorehouses to attract business." He raised his big brown eyes to McCoy's embarrassed blue ones.

"But, anyway, so what?" Ling continued brightly, "I've spoken to Jir. I'm so pleased for you, Leonard."

McCoy noticed Kirk and Spock coming into the courtyard. He had a bad feeling about what Ling's next words might be.

"It's too wonderful about you and Ssssmmmm ... !" whatever word Ling's lips were trying to form was snuffed out by McCoy's lips on them.

'Well, this is interesting,' Ling was thinking, 'I guess it's a big secret. Jir should tell me these things so I don't wreck the party. This is a nice kiss. I remember that, he kissed well, and makes love well, too. I hope Spock appreciates this one, he can be so blind sometimes.'

Kirk and Spock exchanged puzzled looks.

'Why is McCoy kissing this outrageous creature?' Kirk was thinking.

'Why is Ling Talljet here?' Spock wondered. 'And why is Leonard kissing him?'

McCoy and Ling finally broke their clinch, both a little breathless. Ling looked at Spock and formed his hand in the Vulcan salute: "Live long and prosper, SpockDeVulCheq."

"Peace and long life, Ling Talljet," Spock returned, his hand a mirror of Ling's. "What brings you here?"

"You."

Kirk cleared his throat.

"Ling, this is Captain Kirk of the Enterprise," McCoy put in helpfully.

Kirk inclined his head: "You didn't happen to come here in the barge currently in orbit, did you?" Kirk smiled affably, studying the youngest Talljet.

"How else would I have got here? My broom's in the shop right now." Ling snapped. He had a low opinion of KirkaFara. He considered him pompous and arrogant and lucky. ('Luck is for rabbits' was Ling's opinion.) And heterosexual, therefore useless to Ling. And blond, Ling didn't have much use for blondes either.

"Ling," Spock admonished.

"Well, raaaather, Spock, it's logical. There are two ships in orbit now, yours and mine. There are only a handful of beings on this planet, therefore, if I wasn't here when you arrived I could only logically come from the other ship in orbit." Ling was exasperated; was Spock so deep into these idiots he couldn't see an idiotic statement when one jumped up and bit him on the ass?

They were all silent.

"Why have you come to see me, Ling?" Spock said at last.

"Well, you've broken your silence so I thought I'd come say hello." Ling was looking innocent.

Spock remembered this look from Vulcan, it usually meant Ling was telling the truth, sideways, to distract his audience.

"I recall it differently, Ling, it was you and your brothers who were silent."

"Well, I answered your letters."

"Only to ask that I stop writing them."

"It's still an answer."

"Indeed."

They were silent again. Ling was listening to the silence. Spock had his shields up, way up, but the Terrans were sending lots of messages and all of them good news.

Jir was right: this was a new and improved SpockDeVulCheq. He was in love with McCoy. Ling had that from McCoy's memory and it showed on them. The subtle energy convergence of love between two people was visible in their telefields. Kirk was oblivious to it. Ling supposed this was a good thing due to the uptight regulations that governed Star Fleet.

He read further from Kirk that they had been in deep space for a long time. If Spock was a FedPol spy he was a useless one in the quadrants they had been in these past few years. Kirk had a high opinion of the Vulcan but did not understand the full magnitude of Spock's complexity. He had been touched by Spock's loyalty to Pike but had not understood the underlying, deeply suppressed irrational passion that motivated Spock's action. The same deeply suppressed irrational passion that caused Spock to seduce and abandon Maja, defy his father, family and culture, flee Vulcan, and kept the Spock-watching Talljets on the edge of their seats. What wild and crazy thing will he do next? Jir and Ling wondered. Maja never mentioned Spock's name, or very very rarely. He never seemed to wonder about him and rudely cut off conversations about him. He had pushed his feelings for Spock so far away not even he could see them anymore.

Hobie was still angry with Spock and impatient of any discussion. He did, however, keep track of him as he considered him a potential but undefined danger.

McCoy was unsure what should happen next as Ling and Spock seemed to have reached the end of their conversation. Kirk was deciding whether they should offer him refreshment or order him back to his ship and out of orbit.

"Can we offer you something to drink, Mr. Talljet?" Kirk finally said.

"Oh, call me Ling!" Ling cried pleasantly. "Yes, indeed, it's awfully hot out here. Only fit for Vulcans, you know?"

They repaired to the kitchen of the station. Ling had to take off his hat to get inside. His black curls spilled down his back and over his shoulders like waterfall. McCoy took a moment to admire this, but just a moment because Spock had an odd look in his eye.

"So, Spock, how's your mother?"

"She is well. How are the Sa's?"

"They are enflamed by the discovery of the ancient Borillian texts. They can talk about nothing else except the development of Borillian from this source. They say it clears up many contradictions that have plagued them for years." He paused, smiled, thinking fondly of those old men and their linguistic manias. "I wish I could find something to make me that happy all at once." He looked at Spock. "And you? How are you?"

"Well."

"And has Star Fleet turned out to be everything you wanted, Spock?"

"Mostly, yes."

"Well, that's good. One should have what one wants in this life."

"That is open to interpretation, Ling."

"Perhaps. I can only refer to those who seek happiness, which is elusive but worthwhile."

Ling smiled at the humans, trying to draw them into the conversation.

"Yes, I would agree with you," McCoy put in politely.

Kirk smiled and sipped his tea. He was not enjoying Ling as much as he'd enjoyed Jir. However, he rose to the occasion: "I enjoyed your play, _Skolta_," he said pleasantly.

"The play or the performance?" Ling asked; he did love to be complimented.

"Both. I wonder at your dislike of Vulcan culture. It's very well thought of in the Federation."

Spock had a sinking feeling but Ling, sensing this, came to his rescue.

"It's a .. challenging place for ... unusual people to live," Ling said, hunting for the least offensive words he knew. "Post-Reform Vulcan culture has very little room in it for differences or deviation. One either lives by the laws of Surak or one is marginalized into non-existence. The Vulcans have traded intolerance and violence for intolerance and ostracism. And all under the cover of logic which is much maligned by their use of it."

"They have been very successful."

"Oh, I agree, but we will never know what might have been and what might yet be. I'm all for logic and use it myself now and again, but sometimes it's necessary to jump over it and into faith, love, passion, etc. All those wonderful things the Vulcans eschew in the name of a quiet life."

"And what's wrong with a quiet life?" Kirk smiled.

"You tell me, Fara. Why haven't you had one?" He smiled back, charming, sweet Ling. "Or you, Leonard, why are you light years away from home, risking your life, seeing wonders you've never dreamed of?" He gestured toward Spock with his chin. "It's not logical."

The humans laughed.

"No, it's not. But wouldn't the Vulcans have killed themselves without logic?" Kirk asked.

"I doubt it. They hadn't the technology for mass destruction and the little acknowledged truth was that the warlords were forming political alliances and the planet might have entered a feudal period similar to what you had on Terra. The social structure was developing along a line where the strong ruled but valued intelligence and other useful aspects in the weak. Intelligence, beauty, spirituality, artistic talent, even logic of all things, were beginning to assert themselves as tenable positions from which to bargain for power. Surak swept all that away with Skolta's execution and the creation of the Surakian dictatorship. The fact that the first logical action of the unchallenged victor was of violence and not compassion is the make or break in Vulcan history. Its message was that resistance was futile and would not be tolerated."

"History is full of terrible 'if's', Ling." Kirk was warming up to him.

"Yes, but it's fun to wonder. And I further wonder if the Vulcans will ever jump over the logic walls they've built and do god knows what."

"I've no quarrel with Vulcans the way they are," McCoy commented.

"Have you lived there?" Ling asked, smiling.

"No."

"Try it sometime. It will astonish you just how many shades of beige there are in the universe."

"Ling," Spock said firmly, "Vulcan has a varied and satisfying culture. You are not giving it its due."

"Then why don't you live there?"

Spock was silent for a moment but then said: "I prefer a less predictable existence."

"And bravo, Spock! Me, too. Let's leave Vulcan to those who enjoy a quiet life. It's a big galaxy, life and adventure enough for all." Ling flashed a happy smile that lit up the room and rose. "I must be on my way. Nice to see you again, Spock. Nice to meet you, Captain."

He turned and took McCoy by the shoulders: "And, Leonard, how wonderful to meet again. I wish you well, in all, and I do mean all, your endeavors." Ling gave him a pat, bowed, collected his hat and left.

The three stood looking after his retreating form.

"So that's Ling Talljet." Kirk muttered. He turned to McCoy. "And how do you know him?"

"I didn't know I knew him. He had a different name when I, ah, spent some time with him years and years ago."

"He's very charming." Kirk teased McCoy.

"Once he warms up to you, yes," McCoy commented, thinking that Ling was not as beautiful as Jir but was so warm and loving it didn't matter.

Spock was thinking that Ling was more like Maja, plain but his presence was strong, warm and comforting. Like looking at the moon over water. He pushed aside a stray longing for Maja. 'That is gone forever,' he reminded himself.

"I must return to my duties, if you will excuse me." He walked away, farther into the building.

"Yes, let's wrap this up and get outta here." Kirk moved off.

McCoy stood a moment longer, thinking of Ling and the impression he left in the air. Then he shook himself out of his reverie and went back to work.

* * *

Ling returned to his barge and gave the order to leave orbit. He retired to his office to think over the past, present and future before contacting Hobie.

About the past: Why had he seduced McCoy on that afternoon long ago? It wasn't just boredom and a challenge; he'd read McCoy as strictly heterosexual but it was more than that. Second sight perhaps, acquiring knowledge but not knowing why until it became useful.

'McCoy is perfect for Spock,' he thought, 'compassionate, loving, patient when necessary, fiery more often. They love science, both feel rather lost. How lucky they have found each other in all this miraculous creation.'

But there are no accidents, Ling reminded himself, and here was yet more proof that there must be a god to so neatly free Spock from Maja and Maja from Spock.

'Maja will be pleased to know that Spock has learned to recognize love and return it,' Ling mused. 'Too late for us Talljets but, hochofedra,' he shrugged mentally, 'better late than never.'

As to the present: All was well. Spock wasn't a FedPol or Staflet agent. He was never anywhere near the Talljets until lately and that was only to free himself of them.

You must make peace with the past to embrace the future, as the saying went. 'Wise,' Ling thought. 'Godspeed.'

And the future: It was a mystery as usual but the general feeling was good. Intergalactic relations were stable so not much chance of a war smashing things up. The Federation was slowing its diplomatic forays into non-aligned space. Rumor was that an isolationist movement on Terra was creating enough political tension to keep the diplomats home. Probably a good thing if they had more idiots like Ambassador Martin. So, hopefully, Rovirin would not become a bone in a dogfight between the Federation, the Klingon Empire and the Talljets.

Another few years in peace there, Lord, that's all we ask, Ling prayed.

The comm line on his desk rang. Hobie was patient for only so long: "Well?"

"We have nothing to fear from SpockDeVulCheq."

"And from his Captain and his ship?"

"No, they are adventurers, not cops."

Hobie studied his brother for a moment: "How is he?"

"He is well, Nolo, he has learned to love and be loved. He is making his own way in his own SpockDeVulCheq way. We are part of his past and he is putting it behind him, saying good-bye to all that."

"Good bye to all what, Ling?" Hobie was puzzled by the fondness in his brother for the VulCheq.

"All the suffering on Vulcan."

"I don't remember Spock doing much suffering," Hobie said sharply.

"But he did. We all did. We had feelings and sensibilities the Vulcans, friend and foe alike, simply could not fathom. We thought we were mad or defective or cursed, remember? Until we got shut of that place and discovered ..."

"That it's a big galaxy and there is a place for everyone in it," Hobie finished impatiently. He suddenly wanted to see the 'new Spock' for himself but knew it was impossible.

"Exactly." Ling laughed, "I wish him all the best."

"What will you tell Maja?" Hobie asked.

"That he, like us, has found his place in this life and is at peace."

Hobie nodded. It was exactly what Maja had wanted for Spock, even if it meant never seeing him again.

Hobie, on the other hand, wanted Spock to rot in hell forever but refrained from mentioning it. So instead he said: "Hochofedra, Noli," he shrugged. "And McCoy? I looked him up, he won't win any beauty contests. What draws Spock to him?"

"His soul and heart draw Spock, as they drew me."

"That's saying a lot, Ling." Now Hobie wanted to meet McCoy, but that was also impossible. He began to envy his younger brothers a little but pushed it aside and said: "Will Spock stick with him?"

"I hope so. He's still bonded to T'Pring or still was last time I was on Vulcan." Ling was quite frequently on Vulcan to look after the old Sa's and their interests. He numbered T'Pring, warts and all, among his many friends.

"Ah, yes, The Thing. How is the old girl?"

"Oh, same. You could chip dilithium crystals on her. Maybe she'll veer off on her own. She's going to like the new Spock even less than the old Spock."

"I wouldn't put money on that but we'll see. Shouldn't he have Pon Farred by now?"

"I guess, but who knows? Maybe he won't. That Terran blood is hard to predict."

They nodded in silence at each other, knowing very well how unpredictable SpockDeVulCheq was.

"Well. So much for the Spock news. Where're ye bound, little brother?"

"My 'house'. I've been neglecting the girls, you know how they miss me, and business." Ling's 'house' also contained the Talljet Inc. offices.

"Someday you outta shake dem whores and get respectable." Hobie teased.

"That would be disloyal and ungallant." Ling said with mock seriousness, "They're my team."

"Yes. Indeed." Hobie smiled one of his rare smiles. "Farewell, Ling, all my love."

"All my love, Hobie."

***

end of part 9

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

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