AFTER THE RESCUE

By Karmen Ghia

Part IV

WHAT OCCURRED AFTER MASTER GHET'S RETURN TO THE GOZSHEDREFREINGIN COMMUNE

Master Gozine Gozshedrefreingin Ghet of the Klingon Empire returned to the Gozshedrefreingin Commune in its new home on Zhaharnisha. His return was greeted with much rejoicing by his fellow communists but he cut it short, claiming to be tired and went to his studio.

An hour or so later Master Khat knocked on the big door and was told to go away. He went inside anyway and found Master Ghet staring out the window at the shell of the cathedral in the moonlight.

"Am I the only one in this room that's happy you're back?" Master Khat asked.

"Yes. Get out."

"Gozine." Master Khat sat down. "What happened?"

"I fell in love again, Maja." Master Ghet looked hard at his co-parent. "You know what a disaster that always is."

Master Khat lowered his eyes, remembering how hurt Gozine had been when Gozine had returned to being male and Master Khat had rejected him as a lover for that reason. They had made peace, become friends, raised the children and run the Commune together but the shadow of Gozine's hurt remained. He listened to Master Ghet's story without interrupting. And then he listened to the silence for a while.

"I'm sorry," he said at last.

"For what?" Master Ghet snapped.

"That you had to leave each other," he said quietly. "I'm sorry that you're suffering, again. I'm sorry I'm useless..."

"You're not useless, MajaKhat, I'm useless and foolish and reckless..." Master Ghet rose to pace the room. "I was willing to throw everything aside for love and I could not. I guess I'm gutless, too."

"I wouldn't say that, Gozine," Master Khat murmured. "Would you really have tossed it all?"

"Weren't for Hobie and Jir, I would have," Master Ghet said, looking his friend in the face. "Why not? The children are grown enough, you don't need me, the Commune could stagger along with the sculptors it has, so why not?"

"Lose you, Master, and we lose the protection of the Hierophant. Lose him and we lose the protection of the Haats. Lose that and we become fair game for any Klingon that wants us," Master Khat said slowly. "Or did that not occur to you in your love?"

Master Ghet lowered his eyes.

"Get out," he said slowly and turned to stare out the window until Master Khat had gone.

Master Ghet walked up to his workbench and inspected his tools neatly laid out for him. Someone, probably Hraja, had cleaned and sharpened the chisels. The studio was a big, clean and well lighted space made of temporary building material slapped up to house the Commune until they could move into the cathedral. Architectural drawings were pinned up around the workbench and desk so that Master Ghet could make sculptural decisions on the facade, altar and statuary. The overall design was like all Klingon cathedrals. It was to celebrate the virtues of strength, honor and fidelity.

Fidelity. Master Ghet could not decide if his problem was that he had too much or not enough fidelity.

'Well, as long as I am here, I might as well do some work,' he thought, tossing off the new cloak the Commune had presented him. He'd forgotten how heavy a Klingon Master's cloak is with all the runes on it.

* * *

The tension between Masters Ghet and Khat was palpable. Everyone walked on eggs around them until it eventually abated.

Master Ghet was withdrawn and the Commune kept their respectful distance. He could not take any interest in the broken winged bird Hraja was nursing back to health, nor Farro's new feud with Kalzat, nor Master Khat's studio's magnificent mural for the sides of the Cathedral. Nothing was of interest to him except when he could lose himself in his own work and forget Sarek for a while. It occurred to Master Ghet that someday time would wear away the ache he felt and that made him even sadder for a while.

The Commune hired models when they needed them. They were expecting a female for the figure of St. Kzahran the Merciful, who was the central figure in Master Khat's mural on Klingon virtues. Mercy was not a popular Klingon virtue but Master Khat had decided to change the fashion by making Mercy, Grace, Love and Faith the theme of this mural for the cathedral on far away, obscure Zhaharnisha. Those who did not like it could go to hell and probably would. So the Commune was waiting for a female of a certain age to arrive from Drozerin.

Amanda had given her name to a young communist and off he went to get Master Ghet for her. The young communist had gone to Master Ghet's studio and been sent off by Hraja to get some twine before he could relay the message he was carrying.

Standing in the hall of the Commune, waiting for the child to return and lead her to Master Ghet, Amanda reviewed her intention. 'Keep your friends close and your enemies closer,' she had thought when she'd decided to bring Maja back to Sarek. She hoped Sarek would see the virtue in keeping her as wife and Maja as concubine and life could go on more or less as before. In such circumstances he would eventually see how ridiculous his infatuation with Maja was, at least she hoped he would. She had not really considered what a strange errand it was, nor what strangeness she might find on the way to and in the Commune. Amanda was therefore not sure if the men now circling her were some sort of welcoming dance or what.

"No, no, Fara, you're here to see me," Master Khat assured her in Rom, which she seemed to understand a little, and led her into his studio and closed the door, which meant 'enter at your peril.'

"Oh, perfect," Tien asserted upon seeing Amanda. "Right here, yes, step up there, thanks." The painters began to circle again.

"I think there might be some mistake," Amanda said slowly.

"She's right," Master Khat said firmly. "She should be nude and draped." He grabbed Amanda by the hand and dragged her over to a curtain. "In there, you can hang up your clothes and wrap that silk around you." He pushed her inside. "Look at the drawings and try to get the draperies as close as possible."

Amanda started to protest but then her eye fell on the drawings for the mural and she began to undress - quickly.

~

"I'm here to see Master Khat," the model said to Hraja, who'd come out to look for the little communist he'd sent for twine.

Hraja frowned at the closed painting studio door: "Come sit in here for a moment and have some tea until they break." He led her into the kitchen, made her a cup of tea and checked on his patient.

"Hey, what kind of bird is that?" the model asked.

"One that can almost fly again," Hraja smiled at her as he went back to Master Ghet's studio.

* * *

"And where have you been, little one?" Hraja asked sternly of the little communist.

"I couldn't find the twine in Master Ghet's storeroom, I had to go to Master Whilla and he made me sweep his studio and make tea before I could leave. Then Master Dhec had me count bars of bronze while he and Farro cast in vreisimine. They called me over to watch because I might want to be a metal sculptor when I grow up. But now I'm here and I have a message for Master Ghet from a beautiful lady that wants to see him."

"You'd better tell him, then," Hraja grimaced, thinking of the beautiful lady he'd left in the kitchen some time ago and led the child to Master Ghet.

They waited until the Master deigned to notice them.

"There's a lady named Amamasark here to see you, Master," the child announced.

"Amamasark?" Master Ghet repeated, puzzled. 'Amama Sark. Amamda. Amanda. AMANDA SAREK.' He went all cold inside and put down his tools before he dropped them. "Show me this lady."

"I put her in the kitchen, Master," Hraja volunteered as he and the child trotted at Master Ghet's heels.

"You're not Amamasark," Master Ghet said, nonplused, to the furious model in the kitchen.

"Who the fuck is she? I'm here to model for Master Khat and if he doesn't need me then pay me and me let me go on my way."

"Hraja, why..." Master Ghet began.

"His door was closed like they were working, you know I can't open those doors when they're closed, Master," Hraja protested quickly. Since childhood, this was the one rule no one beneath a Master broke. The Masters themselves very seldom interrupted each other when their studio doors were closed.

This was, however, an emergency and Master Ghet led the model, Hraja and the little communist to the painting studio. He hesitated and knocked softly.

"GO AWAY! WE'RE WORKING!"

Master Ghet stepped back from the door and drew a breath. He flung the doors wide and marched in at the head of his little party.

"WHAT THE HELL ARE YOU DOING, GOZINE?" Master Khat flung down his palette and pointed at Master Ghet.

"WHAT THE HELL IS SHE DOING, MAJAKHAT?" Master Ghet roared back, pointing at Amanda.

Tien was very much reminded of a painting he'd seen on Bazeria of the trial of a Frocusion revolutionary leader. Same composition of pointing fingers and angry faces. He looked up to see their St. Kzahran gazing mildly at the ferocious Master Ghet.

"I'm modeling," she said.

* * *

"No, she's fantastic and I was right to keep her," Master Khat was arguing with Master Ghet yet again about Amanda.

"I guess," Master Ghet said ruefully, wondering if MajaKhat meant as a model for St. Kzahran, for which even Master Ghet privately admitted she was superb, or in his bed or both. "Whatever you want, just keep her away from me." He marched back into his own studio.

There had not been a scene that first morning. Master Khat had ordered Master Ghet out of his studio and Master Ghet had gone, taking Amanda with him. There had been some angry words from Master Khat about that but in the interest of peace and not tearing the model's arms off, he had relented. After all, the transports had gone and he doubted Master Ghet was going to kill her. He let her go, assured she would soon be back on the model stand. Besides, it was lunch time and everyone was very hungry.

Master Ghet led Amanda to his studio and closed the door. He walked to the far end of the room and wheeled on the last person he'd expected to ever see again in this life.

"What the hell are you doing here?" he snarled in his heavily Rom accented Vulcan.

"I've come to congratulate you, Maja ..."

"Don't call me that! Call me Master Ghet."

"Then I've come to congratulate you, Master Ghet," Amanda said slowly. "You have done what I thought could not be done."

"Which is?" Master Ghet prompted after a moment of silence.

"Swayed Sarek's promise to me," Amanda said quietly.

Master Ghet waved her to a chair and sat on the other side of the room.

"You came all this way for that, Terran?"

"No, I want you to come back to Vulcan with me. I believe a suitable arrangement can be made for all of us," Amanda said, thinking, 'Keep your friends close and your enemies closer.'

"Oh? Such as?"

"I do not know. I will know on Vulcan."

"I know what 'arrangement' you mean, Amanda," Master Ghet snarled. "Probably the same one I was offered by T'Pau for Spock. Shame, secrecy, a little house somewhere, the occasional visit, never an entire night, never a public, legitimate or legal bond, nothing of my own, just whatever you leave me. Is that what you've come to offer me, Terran, your leavings?"

"No, Master. Sarek has divorced me."

"Why?"

"For you, I assumed," Amanda said quietly. "He said he had shifted his commitment to you. I assumed he was divorcing me so he could marry you. He told T'Pau he wished to return to you."

"What did the old witch say?" Master Ghet wondered if they were talking about the same Sarek. The one he'd last seen on Hobie's ship was fully resigned to the needs of the many over the needs of each other.

Amanda fought back her tears. "She said she did not object to the liaison." Even T'Pau had forsaken her in the end.

Master Ghet narrowed his eyes at Amanda: "T'Pau's objection or approval mean nothing to me."

"Why do you hate me?" Amanda eventually asked in the ensuing silence.

"Do you think that's why we fell in love, Amanda, because I hate you?" Master Ghet asked coldly. "What an ego you have. You were the last thing on my mind."

"I know why you fell in love with Sarek," Amanda said slowly. "I know very well why." She held the Master's cold eyes. "And I know why he fell in love with you. I'm sure they are the same reasons Spock had."

"Leave Spock out of this." Master Ghet stood and began to pace.

"As you wish. I've come to ask you to go back to Sarek. He needs you, he loves you. He admits it is not logical but there it is. I could not inspire these things in him but I will not stand in your way Maj... Master. I have learned how unwise that is."

"What do you mean?" Master Ghet stopped his pacing and stood outlined by the light slanting in the window.

"I saw what losing you has done to Spock. I prefer not to see it happen to Sarek as well."

Master Ghet was silent. Amanda continued: "I regret that I did not support your cause on Vulcan because I now realize you really were a far better choice for Spock than T'Pring, even though Sarek was opposed to you."

Master Ghet was silent. Amanda continued: "I had hoped that Spock could somehow satisfy his father and himself by following the Vulcan way, at least in his marriage to T'Pring."

Master Ghet was silent. Amanda continued: "I thought all would be well when they had children. I must admit that the issue of children went against you with me on Vulcan."

Master Ghet opened his window and threw up. When he'd finished vomiting, he rinsed his mouth with cold Relan tea from the morning and stared at Amanda with cold, dead eyes.

"Do you really want to know why I hate you, Amanda?"

She nodded.

"Because you were the one person on Vulcan that could have told me I was in love and not insane and you did not." He watched Amanda lower her eyes. "I thought I would die of that madness and you simply watched me suffer. You didn't care what happened to me as long as you could live a quiet life with your son and husband. You've had everything - love, a child, a husband, security, position, a past, a future - but you could not spare five minutes of kindness on me. I know too well how cruel you Humans are but my mind was clouded by the idea that Spock's mother might be different from the rest of her species. I was wrong then and I do not care how you suffer now. In fact, I hope you suffer tremendously. You won't die, I can assure you of that - although you might wish you could." He crossed the room and opened the door. "Now get out. I want you on the next transport going anywhere, even if it's a Klingon training ship. Until then I do not want to see or hear you."

Weeks later Amanda was still part of the Commune, adored by everyone except Master Ghet and had become MajaKhat's lover.

Hraja had tried to maintain a polite distance from Amanda out of respect for Master Ghet but he was touched by her interest in his sick bird and her gentleness that reminded him so much of his own. She, like he, was a good listener and for the first time in his life Hraja was able to talk to someone who would not interrupt him. He found himself telling her all the hopes and dreams and fears for the future he held in his seventeen year old heart. He wanted to be a Master Sculptor like Master Ghet and live in the Commune for the rest of his life. Hraja could see no better future than that and he prayed for it with his whole being.

Amanda gave Master Ghet a wide berth. This was not difficult as the Commune was completely engrossed in its work on the cathedral and the areas of painting and sculpture did not overlap at that point. She spent most of her time with the painters and MajaKhat. They'd tumbled into bed the second night of her residency and her sorrow had lifted a little. It was consoling to know someone still wanted her and that MajaKhat was beautiful did not decrease her pleasure.

He was also a great artist. Amanda was not schooled in art but she knew when something spoke to her soul. She'd been deeply moved by the mural sketches, even in their rough form they had moved her greatly. She'd suddenly found her deepest wish was to be a part of their creation and was relieved that Master Khat would not allow Master Ghet to send her away.

Amanda found life in the Commune very much to her liking as well. Everyone was always busy, always interested in what they were doing. They took their meals together and it was like being part of a big, happy, hard working family. Tien, Kalzat, Hraja, Farro, Polmira, Lyra and Bot liked her gentle ways very much and were especially attentive to making her feel at home. She couldn't pick up the Patois but everyone spoke Standard to her once they discovered it was the language she was most comfortable in. She was impressed that they spoke it so well and was told that the Masters had decided it was something the Commune needed to know. To accomplish this, the Masters had bought some Standard speaking humanoids and they had lived in the Commune for a few years before going home.

"Home?" She'd asked.

"Home." Tien shrugged. "They left, they said they were going home, we did not ask any questions."

Amanda found the communists brusque but not rude. They were too busy to waste words and too happy to be unkind.

* * *

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

"Yes."

Hierophant Kroldt sat back to review the series of events leading to this remarkable conversation with Sarek of Vulcan.

He had ignored the Vulcan's first contact and continued to ignore his messages until General KmordriYhet had demanded an appointment with him. The general had brought a half Nzrealian banker named Obsta Fira with him. Apparently, Obsta Fira was a friend of a friend of a friend of a friend's soldier of fortune somewhere out in the back of beyond in Klingon space. The Hierophant could not but be impressed that this rascal could get to him with such ease. Where was the half Nzrealian's awe of his exalted position? Where was Kmordri's respect for his ecclesiastical privacy? And why did they only want to talk about Sarek and Master Ghet?

"Let me understand this," Kroldt said majestically in Klingon. He paused, majestically, waiting for Obsta's translator to catch up. "You want me to send Gozine the Confessor to Sarek of Vulcan because the Vulcan wants him."

"Yes." Obsta and Kmordri were in perfect agreement for very different reasons.

Obsta had been moved to the core by Sarek's love for Maja. He was so happy he could still be deeply moved by anything, he'd had promised Sarek he would do whatever he could to bring them back together. He'd ignored the Vulcan's objections because now Obsta felt he was on some sort of spiritual quest and nothing could stop him. His ardor had carried him all the way to the Hierophant, who now sat staring at him in disbelief. He could not know he was making KmordriYhet's fondest dream come true.

KmordriYhet was not so romantic. He was one of the smarter members of his clan and had been looking for a way to peacefully remove Master Ghet from the Klingon Empire for years. Being intelligent, Kmordri had realized early on that the strange alliance between the Hierophant (whom he respected), Master Ghet (whom he feared), the Tossarian pirates (whom he distrusted), and the Haat clan (whom he loathed) threatened to overtake the power of the Yhet clan.

The Haats and Yhets had lived in an uneasy balance of power for three centuries. In order not to kill themselves, they had compromised by putting the Tzaj clan on the Imperial throne and thus far that had been a successful arrangement for all of them. There were bumpy times: none of them were angels, each grabbed up as much power and position as they could and the Tzaj were experts at playing each against the other. Until recently all was well; until the Haats began to consolidate their holdings into real and lasting power with the aid of their allies inside and outside the Empire.

This was the worst part. How dare the Haats make alliances outside the Empire that were not with the Romulans? It was unheard of and, moreover, unnatural. The Yhets had earned their xenophobia from certain unpleasant events concerning offworlders in their history. They had a better relationship with the Romulans than any other clan but even that was rocky. The mainstay of that was Admiral KzaxreaYhet's 'friendship' with the Rom emperor, who was, unfortunately, dying. Admiral Kzaxrea had arranged the failed marriage between the Klingon and Romulan emperors' younger children. Kmordri still regretted the dissolution of that union. Malira had been the Yhet's greatest ally in the palace until the anti-Rom feeling sprang up and threatened to kill her. The marriage and heir had had so much potential for the total domination of both empires, alas.

It was General Kmordri's mission in life to knock the supports out from under the Haat clan whenever and wherever he could. He was, therefore, delighted when the Obsta Fira person was described to him as someone who could help him do just that. Kmordri had given serious thought to the Kroldt-Ghet-Tossarian-Haat alliance. A strange alliance, but not unassailable, as he now saw.

Kroldt had listened patiently, if not suspiciously, to Obsta Fira's plea. KmordriYhet seemed not to have any reason for supporting the half Nzreali except as a favor to some friend of a friend etc. Kroldt assured them he would pray for guidance in this matter and told them to get out. He was wary of anything Kmordri supported because he was wary of anything that Yhet was involved in. It was Kroldt's opinion that there was nothing more dangerous in creation than a Yhet with some real intelligence. Especially if it was brought into play against you.

And now Sarek of Vulcan was willing to leave diplomacy forever if he could have Master Ghet. It was a dream come true - sideways.

Kroldt was as wary of Sarek as of Kmordri and for the same reasons. The Hierophant had never met Sarek before but certainly felt his influence in his past dealings with the Federation. Sarek was smart, fast and knew where the Klingons were weak. The Vulcan had brokered a peace in a war that was going very nicely in non-aligned space. A war that the Klingons, the Haats especially, were waiting patiently to exhaust the participants so they could swoop in and take over the entire sector without firing a shot. It would have given them a nice, long, hard to guard frontier with the Federation and even left some Federation outposts inside Klingon space. Alas, it had all ended badly - the warring planets had even applied for membership in the Federation, adding insult onto injury. This was but one of many such outrages committed by Sarek of Vulcan against the Hierophant Kroldt. He could mention all the borderline planets Sarek had lured away from the Klingons to the Federation, all the treaties that gave the Klingons a short shrift or excluded them entirely, all the trade agreements that left the Klingons out of the loot. He could go on and on but life was short and he had other things to do.

And now this bizarre miracle had occurred: the evil Vulcan was so smitten with Gozine he'd give it all up for the little one. Well, Kroldt himself was rather smitten, had been for the past thirteen years and was now not entirely sure he could lose him. Not to mention allow the Empire to lose one of its finest artisans and priests.

Kroldt was evolved enough to put himself in Sarek's position for a moment. He didn't like it; it was painful. It was even made worse by the fact that Kroldt might actually be in that position himself in the near future.

The Hierophant still did not know why Gozine had risked his life for the Vulcan. Gozine's answer was that god had told him to rescue Sarek. Kroldt had not disputed this much: there were too many times in the past when Gozine had done something at 'god's behest' that turned out to be not only brilliant but beneficial to the Church, the Haats and, strangely, the Tossarian pirates.

That was rather odd and the Hierophant had given much thought as to why, since becoming intimate with Gozine, the Haats had suddenly made peace with the Tossarians. The peace was led by General KizjietHaat, whose confession Gozine had been hearing for years. Kroldt felt there was a connection there but the wealth and power afforded by this dubious alliance stilled his scruples.

* * *

"Stay out of their scanner range, Qwuushi."

"Looks like a Klingon convention on Zhaharnisha, Hobie." Neria-Tza was nervous in spite of his cool appearance on the bridge of the Dancer. Grabbing a Klingon Commune out from under the ridgeheads was nervous-making enough, now he wondered if they weren't betrayed.

"No, they'd send more than four warships and the Hierophant wouldn't be anywhere near here if they knew our errand and expected a fight," Hobie answered the XochiCheq's thought. "Those aren't Haat warships either." He turned to the communications station. "Mizat, who are those guys?"

"Based on their communications, I'd say they're Yhets or their agents." Mizat could break almost any encryption code and liked to flaunt this fact.

"Are they escorting the Hierophant?" That would be strange indeed, the Hierophant was usually escorted by the Haat clan.

"I don't think so. They're staying out of the Hierophant's flotilla's scanner range as well."

"That makes me very nervous," Hobie mumbled, thinking he'd like to warn the Commune but any subspace transmission in that direction would give them away and he only had this one ship: the Dancer - built for comfort, not for speed. He had not expected to meet anyone all the way out here at Zhaharnisha. 'What good is second sight if it cuts out just when you need it?' he thought ruefully. "Well, let's see what they do." He turned to Mizat. "Have the Maja, Yaja, Tien and the Zoltir head this way just in case we need them." He regretted that his new ship, the Maria Norris, was not spaceworthy yet. She was a beauty.

* * *

"The Hierophant has just arrived!" Tien flew into Master Ghet's studio and back into the Commune, which was trying to pull itself together for the Hierophantical visit.

Master Ghet looked at the half finished sculpture he had been wholly engaged in. "Oh, shit." He handed his tools to Hraja and went to change into a cassock. When it was warm enough he liked to work in a loin cloth, however, he could not greet the Hierophant in that. At least, not in front of the Commune.

He had just gotten the cassock on when the Hierophant's escort teleported into his studio and arrested him in the name of the most Holy Klingon Imperial Church.

An hour after that KmordriYhet's men arrested Master Khat and took Hraja, because he was Khat's son, and Amanda, because she was obviously Khat's lover (no woman fights like that for a mere acquaintance's son), as hostages to guarantee Master Khat's good behavior.

As soon as they were gone, Hobie and Neria-Tza found the Commune in an uproar. They heard the news and ordered everyone onto the Dancer with whatever they could pack in five minutes.

* * *

"You might have given me a chance to pack, Master," Master Ghet said coolly to the Hierophant.

"You don't need anything from there, Gozine," Kroldt said. "You can buy whatever you need in you new life."

"Which is what, Master?"

"I don't know. It does not concern me. I will miss you."

"Then don't send me away," Master Ghet looked at his lover with big eyes. The 'new life' Kroldt kept on about concerned the MageCheq very much. Kroldt was keeping his distance so Gozine could get nothing useful out of his telefield except flashes of sadness and loss.

Kroldt kept his distance for fear that if he let down his guard with Gozine he would lose his resolve to hand him over to Sarek. He had made his decision and contacted Sarek to meet him on Hzabeda. It was the most intelligent thing to do. Painful, but Kroldt knew he would get over it someday. Also, Gozine was only a mere slave in the Empire and it was foolish to become so attached to property.

"It is done, Master Ghet." The Hierophant rose to go. "For the greater glory of the most holy Klingon Church you will preach a sermon to the Hzabedaians before you leave your life in religion. The subject of this sermon is obedience. I will leave you to meditate on the subject." He swept out majestically, leaving Master Ghet to contemplate obedience in all its forms.

* * *

"What happened, Kalzat?" Hobie was asking the stunned Klingon.

"The Hierophant's escort grabbed Master Ghet and was gone."

"And nobody put up a fight?"

"They used a diversion, Hobie. We were waiting for the Hierophant to make his entrance into the hall of the Commune, like usual, and while we were watching that door, the escort teleported down, grabbed Master Ghet and was gone. We still wouldn't know if one of the apprentices hadn't seen it happen." Kalzat felt flooded with shame.

Hobie clapped him on the shoulder. "They knew the Commune would fight if they came straight at you. A brilliant operation if you think about it. You never had a chance. The Hierophant could have been a general." Hobie watched the young Klingon nod sadly. "And then what happened with MajaKhat, Hraja and Amanda?" Hobie knew from Master Ghet that Amanda was with the Commune and why. He was more worried about Amanda with the Klingons than he was about anything else because her mistreatment would be enough to start a full blown war.

"At least two hundred Klingons with blasters beamed into the middle of the Commune and secured it before we had a chance to turn around twice. Master Khat agreed to go with them, he only objected when they went for Hraja."

"Why did they take Amanda?"

"She tried to fight them off when they warriors started to drag Hraja away...."

"Is she stupid?"

"No, she's wonderful! We might have gotten a diversion out of her fight except Master Khat threw himself in front of her so the warrior that was going to blast her couldn't. These Klingons were a very disciplined group, knew exactly what they were about and how to get it with as little struggle as possible. I think they realized Amanda was important to Master Khat and Hraja and they took her as a hostage to hold over them."

Pausing briefly to admire Kalzat's brilliant analysis, Hobie looked away from the Klingon youngster to collect his thoughts and review what a terrible mess he was suddenly faced with. Neither he nor the Commune had any idea why Master Ghet, Master Khat and Hraja were arrested. The only one they did know the why of was Amanda and that was tremendously astute on the Klingons part. That was unnerving in itself as there is nothing more frightening than an astute Klingon.

Hobie had sent the Zoltir and the Tien to quietly follow the Hierophant's flotilla and the Maja and the Yaja after the Yhet's warships. He cursed himself that he had not arrived a week, a day, an hour sooner. He would now inform his brothers of these developments and hope they had some helpful ideas. He would take the commune to Ivishian, where Ling had made living arrangements until a more permanent home could be found. He would follow Maja's trail if he could and hope for the best. At this time, he did not know what else to do.

* * *

"How long has she been missing?" McCoy asked, seated in his quarters with Kirk, Spock and a good bottle of brandy.

"She should have reached Terra five weeks ago," Spock said. "My aunt did not contact anyone because she thought my mother might have wanted to be alone for a while. When she did not make contact after a reasonable amount of time, my aunt became concerned. Apparently, my mother never went to Terra. There is record of her booking a passage to Hozlostra and then she disappears."

"Why would she go there? There's not much out that way." Kirk had listened in silence, puzzling over Lady Amanda's behavior. It had been obvious on Rovirin that she was deeply wounded by Sarek's intention to divorce her (even Spock had reeled at that, quietly) but wandering into the wilds of non-aligned space was incredible.

"Unknown."

"Where's your father in all this?" McCoy asked.

"T'Pau tells me he is on a diplomatic mission."

"Did she say what?" Kirk asked, intrigued.

"She said it was a confidential diplomatic mission."

"Ah."

"So who's looking for her?" McCoy asked.

"A missing person report has been filed with the Federation Police, the family on Vulcan is making inquiries with various friends and has hired a private detective named Ashon to look into the matter."

"I've heard of an Ashon, I thought he was more bounty hunter than detective." Kirk said.

"He was recommended to T'Pau by Admiral Jessup. She tells me he is very talented at finding people and this is what we want. To find my mother and ascertain her condition."

"Has anyone asked the Talljets if they know where she is?" Kirk asked.

"My messages are not returned," Spock said flatly.

McCoy poured Kirk another brandy and Spock more mineral water. They sat drinking in silence for a while.

"Well," Kirk said at length. "I guess I'll go to bed."

"That's a good idea," McCoy commented blandly and added 'door lock' as he rose and stripped off his tunic. "You are staying, aren't you, Spock?"

"Yes." Spock moved into the doctor's sleeping alcove and began to disrobe. He was relieved this was being decided so neatly for him. He had hoped for this sort of distraction but had not had the energy to initiate it himself.

McCoy had sensed this. He was enjoying the telepathy between the three of them more and more. He bent to remove his boots and socks.

Kirk finished his brandy and began to pull his own clothing off. He was pleased to be included, or perhaps he'd simply misread McCoy's mood. It had seemed to him that McCoy wanted to be alone with Spock. And it had been quite a while since the three of them had been in sync enough to go to bed together. He slipped into bed and spooned up behind McCoy, who was kissing Spock, and ran his hand down the doctor's torso to caress his hardening cock. He kissed McCoy's neck and smiled at Spock across the doctor's warm body.

Spock allowed himself to relax for the first time in days and applied himself to kissing McCoy as Kirk brought the doctor to full hardness. He was thoroughly enjoying the sensation of the doctor's lips on his and the back of Kirk's hand on his cock as he stroked McCoy frantic.

McCoy broke Spock's kiss to pant for breath. He reached between them to still Kirk's hand and move it to the Vulcan's erection before the captain brought him off. He felt Kirk smile against his shoulder and press his erection against the doctor's ass. McCoy turned enough to pull Kirk into a kiss. He removed his arms from Spock's neck and rolled on his back, still kissing Kirk. McCoy pulled Kirk on top of him and then rolled back on his side so the captain was now between him and Spock.

Spock lowered his eyes so Kirk would not see the grateful gleam there for the doctor. The Vulcan had been craving Kirk for some time now and was pleased that the doctor had so neatly put the human in his path. He reached around Kirk to caress his chest and cock as he kissed the human's neck and shoulder.

Kirk could not at that moment conceive of a better arrangement than McCoy in his arms and Spock's arms around him. Out of the corner of his eye he saw Spock reaching for something above his head but was distracted by McCoy sliding his lips down to caress his hard nipples. And then further down to his hard cock.

McCoy swallowed Kirk to the root and held him there, stroking him with his tongue and lips.

Kirk started slightly and thrust forward at the first touch of Spock's slick fingers on his anus. He was quickly consumed by the twin sensation of his cock down McCoy's throat and Spock's fingers in his ass. He let it overwhelm him enough to surrender to what Spock wanted.

Which was merely to fuck him. Deciding Kirk was ready and willing, Spock lubed up and centered his cock. He pressed inside and stopped when Kirk tensed in discomfort. They did not do this very often so it required a few minutes of patience before the Vulcan could proceed.

Kirk winced at the penetration but could not fully concentrate on it because McCoy was noisily sucking on the head of his cock while stroking the shaft with his hand. It was very distracting and wonderful.

That was exactly why McCoy was doing it. He knew Kirk would love it. He did, however, notice Spock seemed to be waiting for something. McCoy realized Spock could not really get any leverage in this position so he gave Kirk's cock one last luscious lick and moved back into his arms. He kissed Kirk teasingly as Spock gently worked his cock all the way in and rolled Kirk on top of the doctor.

McCoy spread his and Kirk's legs under Spock and he hoped he would not be crushed too badly in all this. He would have liked to have slipped away for more brandy but he was deeply interested in the way Kirk was kissing him so he decided the brandy could wait. He was also enjoying the view of Spock above Kirk lost in complete pleasure. This was always a welcome sight for McCoy.

Once he'd overcome his usual hesitation about Spock penetrating him and surrendered enough to enjoy it, Kirk began to enjoy himself very much. He had his tongue down McCoy's throat and was enjoying the friction between them. He rubbed himself against McCoy's belly and felt the doctor rubbing against him. Their bellies grew slick with moisture as Spock's thrusts became longer and harder.

Realizing the humans weren't completely with him, Spock slowed his strokes a little to give them a chance to catch up. He kissed Kirk's neck and shoulder, admiring the taste and texture of the skin. He lengthened his strokes when he heard McCoy's amorous groan and Kirk's soft gasp of pleasure. Spock held back until he felt Kirk clenching around him. He hoped McCoy had come too but it was not uppermost in his mind at the moment.

Spock propped himself on his arms to catch his breath and let his cock soften enough to pull out. He rolled onto his back and looked over at his lovers trying to pull themselves together as well.

Kirk planted a gentle kiss on McCoy's lips and rolled onto his side, leaning against Spock. He was still breathing hard from his own orgasm and lay back to look at McCoy, also flushed and panting. He reached over and pinched the nearest nipple and watched with amusement the doctor's shudder of pleasure.

McCoy finished his pleasured shudder, stretched and reached under the pillow for a towel. He mopped himself and handed it to Kirk, who did likewise and handed it to Spock.

Spock rose and tossed the towel in the recycler before he stepped into the head.

Not ready to end their evening yet, Kirk and McCoy curled together and this was how Spock found them when he'd finished his shower. He gathered his clothes and began to dress.

"I must leave you," he said quietly. "I want to try to contact the Talljets again and reply to a message from one of my cousins."

"I understand," McCoy said softly, rising and pulling on his black robe. He walked up to Spock and leaned forward to kiss him, rightly judging that Spock would not want McCoy's scent all over his freshly showered body.

Spock leaned forward to return the kiss. He nodded at Kirk still in bed, murmured 'Jim,' and departed feeling considerably more relaxed than he had arrived.

McCoy watched the door slide closed, glanced at the brandy and then at Kirk.

"Come back to bed for a while."

* * *

"Admiral Jessup provided the USS Havel and Captain Warren Lee to take Sarek to Hzabeda and marry him to Maja in a Federation marriage...."

"Who cares what kind of marriage, Ling?" Hobie snapped at Ling on the viewscreen.

"I do, Hobie," Jir snapped at Hobie from the viewscreen. "It matters because a Vulcan marriage is too insular and would merely signal that the Vulcans approve. A Federation marriage is more political and signals that the Federation has 'taken' Master Ghet out of the Klingon Empire. The fact that the Hierophant is delivering Maja to his future spouse announces to everyone that some kind of deal has been struck and the marriage seals it. Otherwise the Hierophant would have simply sent Maja along to Sarek any old way. That the marriage will take place on a Star Fleet vessel says that StaFlet is getting something out of this as well or at least seriously approves of this marriage for some reason. Something is definitely up with all this, Hobie."

"I'm sure everyone in StaFlet is delighted to have Master Ghet out of action." Hobie commented sourly. "He was one of the most powerful anti-Federation voices in the Empire. But now, alas, that's all gone."

"And who fucking cares?" Ling snapped at them. "What are we going to do, Nolos?"

"I'm going to Hzabeda and see what happens," Hobie said consolingly, he hated to see Ling upset about anything. "I'll get Maja and take him to Ivishian to rejoin the commune."

"What if he wants to stay with Sarek?"

"Then he stays with Sarek and there's nothing I can do about it, Ling." Hobie was patient. "All I know is, his days in the Klingon Empire are over."

"We've learned something else from Hzabeda," Ling said, slightly mollified now that Hobie was going to solve all their problems, as usual. "There's a rumor that Master Ghet will preach in the Charina marketplace and apparently this is going to attract thousands from all over the quadrant."

"That might be useful."

* * *

"Dunno why she wanted to go there, nothing there but a bunch of Klingon monks," the freighter captain finished the third pint Ashon had bought him in the spacers' bar on Hozlostra. "She was a good maid, I'll say, very hardworking. I'd have her on any of my ships anytime." He accepted another. "Too bad they've gone, they were good prompt paying customers."

"Who?"

"The Klingon monks."

"Any idea where they've gone?"

"Dunno, but I heard that another freighter got paid triple to divert to Ivishian to deliver a load of Txavia wood to them," the captain said. "But you never heard that from me."

* * *

Captain Warren Lee was pleased with the mission Admiral Jessup had entrusted to him. He also liked performing marriages and looked forward to marrying Sarek to Master Ghet. Lee was not entirely sure who Master Ghet was but he knew of and respected Sarek of Vulcan.

Lee was not pleased to find the Hzabedian orbit crowded. He noted that there were all kinds of ships form all over the quadrant in orbit.

"Lieutenant Michels," Lee turned to his communications officer. "Contact our hosts and ask if the Hierophant has arrived. And see if you can find out why all these ships are here."

"Yes, sir."

Sarek stepped from the turbolift to the bridge. He stood next to Lee and looked at the busy viewscreen.

"Have they arrived, Captain?" he asked.

"I'm just inquiring, Ambassador."

"Sir," Michels said. "Premier Vrna's office tells me the Hierophant has not arrived but is expected in two Standard hours. The crowd is due to a rumor that Master Ghet will preach in the capital city's marketplace. There is some concern about crowd control but the Premier's assistant assures me they have the situation well under control."

"I certainly hope so, Lieutenant," Lee said, thinking the simple arrangements for the hand over Jessup had made with the Hzabedian High Council did not include a sermon to the masses.

"I have no doubt Premier Vrna has the situation under control," Sarek commented to Lee. "He is a most reliable being. If there were any danger, I am sure he would inform us."

"Have you worked with him before, Ambassador?"

"Yes, long ago. Hzabeda was the site of negotiations to end a stand off in the sector 471 neutral zone. The Klingons had taken a Federation outpost in disputed space hostage. As Hzabeda neutral and equidistant from Klingon and Federation space, it was deemed the best place to conduct the negotiation. It was chosen this time for the same reason."

"Were the negotiations successful?"

"Yes and no. The Klingons returned all the hostages but the outpost was abandoned. We reached an agreement with the Klingons that the Federation would not try to populate any planets in the neutral zone without petitioning their consent and they would do the same. They have only petitioned to create military outposts and we have declined each one. So they have declined our petitions as well. That is why there are uninhabited inhabitable planets in the sector 471 neutral zone."

"I see."

"However, the Hzabedians proved to be excellent facilitators in the crisis and I respect Premier Vrna very much. I will wait in my cabin for your summons to go to the planet, Captain." Sarek turned and left the bridge.

* * *

"Are you well?" Sarek had asked once the introduction formalities were ended.

"Yes, thank you." Maja looked past him at the multitude he was to address on the subject of obedience.

After the initial jolt of seeing Sarek, Maja had tried not to think too far ahead. He could feel Hobie here somewhere and he wanted to simply make his escape without stirring up too many memories or too much regret.

'So this is why I'm here,' he thought coolly. 'Tossed out of religion and into Sarek's lawful bed. And even if I don't stay with him, I've nowhere to go in the Klingon Empire any longer. It would probably be the sacred mission of every Klingon to take me back to him if I stray.'

He further reflected that this turn of events would have been welcome if he wasn't worried about the Commune, his children, relatives and friends. MajaKhat was right, without the Hierophant's protection they were easy pickings for the Klingon warrior class.

'Oh, lord, get me through today and I'll think about that tomorrow.' Maja surveyed the little party in the pavilion from which he was to speak: Premier RNA, the Mayor and Chief of Police of Charina, the Pastor of the Charina Congregation; the Hierophant and his escort of four heavily armed priests; Captain Lee and his officers, and Sarek.

Sarek. The bond was gone but the love was still strong. It required every ounce of discipline Maja possessed not to throw himself into the Vulcan's arms.

'Bad timing, my love, perhaps in the next life...'

"Oh, get on with it!" The Hierophant referred to Master Ghet's sermon. He was impatient with and confused by his ex-lover's lack of enthusiasm.

Master Ghet rose and glanced at the speaking platform at the front of the pavilion. He regarded the floor before Sarek as he silently went over the sermon he was about to give. He was quite famous for his sermons because on Zatichket the Hierophant had required him to preach to the Klingon Garrison as punishment for some transgression. The sermons were well attended and vids of them were made available to all Klingon military personnel. The topics of these sermons, thirty in all, were how to live in and with the contradictions and caprices of the unknowable mind of god -- a sort of metaphysical how-to. The Klingons loved it and Master Ghet became wildly popular with the pragmatic, how-to thinking military. Generals, Admirals and other powerful Klingons made pilgrimages to Zatichket for spiritual guidance. Slim but beautifully bound and illustrated volumes of Master Ghet's sermons (produced by the Commune as gifts for the Pilgrims) were passed from hand to hand like sacred relics.

This had not been the Hierophant's intention. His original intention had been to punish Master Ghet for inattention to his religion (translation: inattention to the Hierophant) in favor of his art. The Master was abruptly ordered to cease his preaching and ordered into the Commune incommunicado. This was fine with Master Ghet; all the sermonizing and counseling were cutting into his art-making time. He was hard at work on the Tossarian Gates. He had cut back to two hours of sleep a night to accommodate his too busy life and was glad to have the burden of public philosophical ruminations and spiritual Klingon herding removed from his plate. It had been fun but he was glad it was over.

His fame had only grown since his removal from public life five years ago. Hence the huge crowds that had flocked to hear him on Hzabeda when rumors of his sermon began to circulate.

The Hzabedian government had done their best to accommodate the crowd now in the Charina marketplace but it was still too large for the space it occupied. The Chief of Police was looking worried and was speaking quietly but intensely into his communicator as he stared at the multitude jostling to get closer to the object of their adoration.

Master Ghet raised his eyes to Sarek and flashed him a quick Maja Talljet smile before he resumed his bland, pious mask and stepped to the speaking platform. He did a quick visual scan for Hobie but did not find him. He could feel him nearby and assumed his elder brother had the situation under control. He cleared his throat, the crowd fell silent and Master Ghet began to speak in elegant Klingonese.

"My brothers and sisters on the path, I speak to you today on the subject of obedience and how we are to be truly obedient to the mind of god in all its manifestations.

"Firstly, obedience requires knowledge. How can we obey if we do not know what is required of us? Most of the time this is very simple - we are asked or told to do something and we do it; sometimes with our whole heart and mind and sometimes not, depending on the task.

"Usually, we need not weigh the right or wrong of our task. For example, sweeping the kitchen because someone has asked us to is very simple. The reasons for doing it are also simple - you do it because you either wish to please the asker or you fear the consequences of defying the asker.

"But let us look at a more complex scenario. No one tells you to sweep the floor but you see that it needs to be swept. Do you sweep it or leave it? If you sweep it or don't sweep it, what are you responding to? What are you obeying?

"Each of us lives and grows with our own idea or vision of perfection. With the grace of god, we each develop the inner discipline to follow our vision in all ways.

"Sweeping the floor because your vision of perfection prompts you to be tidy is simple. Not sweeping the floor because your vision of perfection prompts you to put another task ahead of it is also simple. We make these kinds of decisions and choices hundreds of times a day, so often and so much, we hardly notice them.

"But let us contemplate an even more complex, but no less worthy, scenario than housekeeping. Let us consider for a moment, decisions that require us to be obedient to the mind of god, perhaps even in opposition to beings in this plane of existence.

"How, you must wonder, can we know what is in the mind of god? We cannot know because we demand to know - the more you quest for it, the more elusive the goal. No, the way to know the mind of god is to surrender to the mind of god. This is more and less simple than you might think. Surrender to the mind of god requires that we stop looking in order to see, stop listening in order to hear, stop doing in order to be. If you are quiet, truly quiet, and look around you, the mind of god is in everything if you are willing to allow yourself to see it.

"Look back over your life. How have you arrived here? What steps did you take that now seem logical if not divinely inspired? From the vantage of the enlightened present, the past might seem an orderly progression - painful, pleasant or neutral - it has brought you here and you can clearly see path behind you.

"When you are surrendered to the mind of god and quiet enough to see, hear and be in the moment, you will know what the next action or series of actions for you should be as clearly as you can know the kitchen floor needs sweeping. Your path will be revealed to you if you are quiet enough to see it, the mind of god will reveal it to you. You will then be faced which a profound choice: obey or not obey.

"The Terrans have a fable about a man who would not obey the mind of god and was swallowed by a large fish until he agreed to obey. I do not believe the mind of god, as I understand it, is inclined to chase you with large fish that will hold you hostage until you agree to obey. I feel in my heart that the mind of god is vast enough to grant you free will to obey or not obey.

"And this is the very thing that makes us evolved spiritual beings - our ability to choose.

"I do not know what will happen if you do not obey the mind of god once you have ascertained the will of that mind. I suspect nothing will happen, you will not be punished or rewarded. Perhaps this is what your soul requires of you in this life and that is also in the mind of god. This is the passive aspect of the mind of god, eternal and inert and the basic foundation of our reality. An excellent and holy condition but not what we are talking about today.

"Therefore, should you wish to align your soul with the eternal and active mind of god then your choice is clear: obey and obey with all your heart and soul even if your mind and body have other ideas. Any action in this plane that aligns with the action of the mind of god, brings your soul closer to the mind of god. And that is the goal of all evolved spiritual beings - to be fully aligned with the mind of god, be it in this life or the next one."

Maja looked down and saw Hobie watching him in rapt attention and elder brotherly affection.

"And that is why if, thr ough the grace of god, we are allowed to know our path, we must find the obedience within ourselves to be surrendered enough to follow that path even if that path leads us away from the only being we have ever truly loved or cared about.

"May you dwell in the light and the mercy of the mind of god forever and ever. Amen."

At that moment the platform collapsed and Master Ghet was flung head first into the ecstatic crowd below.

* * *

"...dissolved into complete chaos," Captain Lee was telling Admiral Jessup's annoyed face on half of the Havel's viewscreen. Master Ghet's sermon and the ensuing riot occupied the other half. "After the stand collapsed there were several explosions in the marketplace. We lost Master Ghet in the riot that followed. My first priority was to get Ambassador Sarek to safety since there was nothing else I could do. The Klingons left abruptly as well. Shortly after we returned to the ship, several small fast private ships took off in different directions. We took off after one and the Klingons another, it turns out neither ship had Master Ghet aboard. The Hzabedian government tried to hold and search all ships in orbit but that caused such an uproar the order was cancelled. Not even the Klingons want to make this into an intergalactic incident. I got the feeling the Hierophant was, well, embarrassed about it."

Jessup nodded: "How is Ambassador Sarek?"

"He's well, sir. He asked not to be disturbed if possible so he can read the book the Hierophant gave him."

"The Hierophant Kroldt gave Sarek of Vulcan a book?"

"Yes, sir. On the platform, when Master Ghet began to speak, the Hierophant leaned over and said to the Ambassador, 'I assume you read Klingonese,' and handed him a book of Master Ghet's sermons to the Klingon Garrison on Zatichket."

* * *

"I don't think I care for your floor sweeping metaphor, Maja." Hobie was finishing a light supper with his brother, Neria-Tza, Qwuushi, Dolo-fra, and Oza-Tol on the merchant freighter borrowed from a friend of a friend of friend and therefore untraceable. This comment was an attempt to distract Maja from the distressing news he'd just heard about Master Khat, Hraja and Amanda.

"I wasn't preaching to you, Nolo," Maja snapped. He was still deeply shaken from being thrown into the adoring, soon to be violent, mob and the Commune news was injury onto insult. "Weren't any of you worried that crowd would tear me apart?"

"Nonsense, Maja-anas," Neria-Tza put in smoothly. "We were all around you. Worst case scenario, you might have lost a few fingers and some hair, that's all."

"We didn't have much time to be elegant, Maja," Oza-Tol told him. "Your Hierophant and Vulcan moved incredibly fast to get you handed over. We had to scuffle to get you back at all."

Maja smiled at the old man; at least Oza-Tol had the sense to be honest with him.

"Here, what's this fish story you told?" Dolo looked up from his plate for the first time that evening.

Maja told him the story James MacQuarrie had told him so many years ago on Magidrian.

"I think I disapprove of your mixing such pedestrian metaphors as floor sweeping and being swallowed by a fish with your higher concepts of surrender and stillness." Hobie was a sharp judge of a sermon, it was something he'd learned listening to Father Polmira in the monastery on Magidrian.

"Well," Maja finally gave in and defended himself. "I didn't know who would be listening. I gave a simplified sermon so everyone could feel included. I'm sorry you were offended. Perhaps you could simply enjoy feeling superior because you were offended. That's really the best I can do for you, Hobie."

Hobie rolled his eyes and gave up trying to have a serious conversation with his irritated brother.

"I liked your sermon, Maja-anas," Qwuushi put in. "I even understood it."

"I'm so glad, Qwuushi," Maja smiled at him. "What part did you like best?"

"The part about the fish. I think that Terran shoulda been flattered that god would even notice him enough to send a fish after him."

Hobie broke in before Maja exploded at the Djahgesenian pilot: "He had to go set some charges and didn't hear the end!"

Maja slumped into his chair. "Fine. Now tell me again what happened in the Commune after my arrest."

* * *

"He has his heart set on this, hasn't he?" the Hierophant Kroldt of Gozedria asked his brother Hierophant, Kvreda of Dkalji.

"Yes." Kvreda could never decide if he truly disapproved of Kroldt's relationship with Master Ghet or was simply jealous of it. Whichever, he was trying not to be too exulted over its termination. He was also trying to find a way to keep the Supreme Religious Leader from exiling Master Ghet and the Gozshedrefreingin Commune from the most holy Klingon Church. "Smashing sermon on Hzabeda," he commented affably to Kroldt. "Sublime and completely comprehensible. Good metaphors, just complex enough to keep the lay mind working. Perfect for the rabble he was addressing. I'm sure they all greatly benefited from his instruction. We shall miss that sort of thing from Master Ghet."

"Yes. I understand the Supreme Religious Leader enjoyed it very much. Has he opted to forgive, Kvreda?" the Hierophant Ksovian of Mvria asked. He, like his six brother Hierophants had been summoned to Klingon for this and none of them were happy about it. Master Ghet and his ex-commune were important to the Empire and the religious leadership would have preferred a policy of forgiveness toward them. Exile was so permanent. "Really excellent sermon by Master Ghet on Hzabeda, Brother," he murmured sympathetically to Kroldt. He admired Master Ghet and respected the Hierophant Kroldt so he was not enjoying either of their difficulties.

"No. As much as he enjoyed ('and even understood') Master Ghet's sermon, the Supreme Religious Leader still feels very strongly that exile is the only right action in this matter." Kvreda nodded majestically to Hierophants Kbxidi of Nvqi, Ksavlini of Jvoku, Khigito of Ezridia, and Kuvrinis of Bokdozia.

They nodded majestically back. None of them felt the ceremony of exile the Supreme Religious Leader had in mind was a good idea. All seven Hierophants would have preferred to quietly let the entire Master Ghet incident die down and eventually coax the Gozshedrefreingin Commune back into the fold when tempers were calmer. They could live without Master Ghet but the artisans of the Gozshedrefreingin Commune were a significant loss to the Church. The ceremony of exile would make their loss official and therefore permanent.

But exile was what the Yhets and Tzaj were demanding and the Supreme Religious Leader could not or would not go against his patrons, the Tzaj, at this time.

And the Yhets were up to no good. The Hierophants knew that they had kidnapped Master Khat and his son, Hraja, from the Commune moments after Master Ghet was arrested but they did not know why. The Hierophants could understand the Commune bolting to safety after losing two Masters so suddenly. They had tried to impress this on the Supreme Religious Leader but it fell on deaf ears. Master Ghet was understandably beyond redemption. The vid of his dance with Sarek on Imk was circulating in the Empire. Obviously he was as wanton as he was wayward.

All this and that the Emperor lay dying without an acceptable heir was on the Hierophantical minds as they swept majestically into the cathedral to hear Master GozineGhet and the entire Gozshedrefreingin Commune spiritually exiled from the most holy Klingon Church and declared enemies of the Klingon Empire with a price on their heads and signed death warrants for all.

The next day MajaKhat's father, the Emperor Kvortine, the last of a long series of compromises to come to the Imperial throne, died. Admiral KzaxreaYhet was declared regent for the dead Emperor's sickly three month old son, Kva.

Kva's concubine mother was buried alive with her sister concubines in accordance with the Imperial burial custom. The Empress Kvortininia was allowed to keep her life, although shut up in a convent for the rest of it.

* * *

"I have always had a high opinion of Master Ghet," KmordriYhet said to Hraja, seated across from him in Hraja's new lavish quarters. "He was unsurpassed as an artist and priest." He looked at Hraja's glass. "You're not drinking. Don't you care for Logerian wine?"

"Yes, thank you. It's quite good." Hraja took a microscopic sip and held onto the glass. He was trying to understand the situation before him.

Master Khat, Amanda and he had been hustled out of the Commune and onto a ship. They were not molested in any way, in fact, they had been treated with extreme care. They were transported to another ship, where they were met by General KmordriYhet.

KmordriYhet had greeted Master Khat as Prince Khat and had not called him anything else since their arrival. The general completely ignored Amanda. His eye had lingered on Hraja but the youth had discounted it at the time; blond Klingons were unusual. Hraja wore a veil in the Commune so as not to distract visiting Klingon clerics as well as warriors.

Hraja wore a veil in the Commune for the same reasons Tien and Polmira wore veils: he was beautiful. MajaKhat had inherited his mother's unusual blonde hair and dark eyes and his father's massive Klingon build. Hraja had inherited his father's coloring and shoulders and the rest was Maja's lithe but powerful physique. Hraja wore his blond curls long over his pointed ears and over his wide and subtly ridged forehead. He had Maja's large luminous brown eyes and high cheekbones. His face was rounder than Maja's, his nose broader and his lips fuller, more like his half Klingon father. He had the clear pale complexion of a Rom but it was lightly tinged with the honey color of Klingons. His skin was like silk over steel and, like his sculpture master, his right shoulder was noticeably larger than his left. Hraja also possessed a quiet and gentle demeanor and a low melodious voice that soothed his listeners when he chose to use it. He had also inherited Maja's intuitive abilities and these, in addition to the quiet powers of observation he'd developed on his own, were telling him that KmordriYhet was interested in more than the quadroon Mage's enjoyment of the wine; much more.

Like his mentor, Admiral KzaxreaYhet, KmordriYhet was a serious person. He had the benefit of being well born, well connected, well educated and intelligent. He had married early and produced enough sons to be able to ignore his wife entirely now. He had never had the time or patience for concubines or romantic intrigue of any sort. The subtleties of wooing a concubine out of a Commune or a lesser noble clan were lost on him. It all seemed like a waste of time and he was a busy man. He was also used to taking what he wanted.

He was therefore at a loss as to how to proceed with Hraja Gozshedrefreingin baMajaKhat. Kmordri's own reaction to the youth had deeply shocked him. He felt as if he'd suddenly discovered the sun after living underground all his life. He had therefore avoided the youth for several days until he simply could not stand another minute of his lack and had had him removed to the luxurious guest quarters the young man now occupied. And then, gazing into Hraja's innocent face, his nerve had failed him and he'd simply offered his guest a glass of wine.

They sat in silence. Hraja had been raised only to speak when spoken to by Klingon warriors and then only to say as little as possible. He hoped the Klingon before him would get bored with his lack of conversation and send him back to Amanda and Master Khat.

Kmordri was actually enjoying the silence. He very rarely found himself in a comfortable silence with anyone. If there was silence around him it was usually an enraged silence. He drank some wine and considered the beauty quietly watching him over his almost untouched glass.

"Do you know why you are here?" Kmordri asked after allowing the silence to continue a little longer.

Hraja shook his head; he'd been wondering why himself.

"You are the most beautiful creature I have ever seen."

Hraja modestly lowered his eyes. 'What would my Master do here?' He'd grown up watching Master Ghet twist Klingons around his little finger and now wished he'd paid more attention.

"You are too kind, sir." Hraja murmured mildly, thinking frantically that he could not really strategize until the Klingon made the next move.

The Klingon's next move was to rise and walk around the table to stand next to Hraja. He stroked the soft blond floss off Hraja's shoulder and ran his fingertips over the silky flesh of his neck. He tilted Hraja's chin up so he could look into the youth's large dark eyes.

"Tell me about your life in the Commune."

"It was very quiet."

"Did you have many lovers?"

"No. None."

"None?" the Klingon said, thinking: 'None? Is he joking?'

"None."

"I see." Kmordri removed his hand and walked back to his own chair, sat and poured himself more wine. This was a quandary for the warrior. He was unskilled as a seducer and even more so as a seducer of virgins. "So you've never ..."

Hraja looked at him inquisitively.

"...never had sex..."

Hraja shook his head.

"...with a man."

"Nor anything else."

"Why not?"

"I've had a very busy life, sir," Hraja murmured. "And sex has always seemed to me to be something that I needn't rush into." He calmly sipped his wine.

"How old are you?"

"Seventeen."

"Ah." Kmordri said, realizing he had sons older than Hraja. "I felt the same at your age. It was considered genteel to wait until one is fully formed as an adult before rushing into intimacy. How did you avoid lust in the Commune?"

"We are very busy in the Commune, sir."

"What about the Klingons?"

"We seldom had visitors."

Kmordri had heard that the Haats were very careful about whom they allowed near the Communes under their patronage. He had also heard that the members of the Gozshedrefreingin Commune were extremely ugly but he now knew that that was a fiction put abroad to discourage lascivious visitors.

"Are you afraid of me, Hraja?"

"A little."

"Why?"

"Because I do not know you."

"Is that all?"

"Did you order us brought out of the Commune?"

"Yes."

"Why?"

"For reasons that do not concern you, Hraja. For the moment let us concentrate on the reasons you are here right now."

Hraja looked across at the Klingon and was dismayed to see all hesitation and uncertainty gone from his demeanor. He found himself faced with a man who always got what he wanted, one way or the other.

"I see by the tattooes on your hands that you have mastered hand to hand combat in the Hvosic and Brezini styles," Kmordri continued. "A worthy accomplishment. I myself have mastered them as well. I am sure I could defeat you in both as I am taller and heavier than you, but it would necessitate hurting you badly and I do not wish to hurt you, at least no more than can be avoided."

Kmordri, with some satisfaction, watched Hraja's eyes widen with comprehension.

"It is also possible that you might damage me and I wish to avoid that at all costs. If you do not submit to me, I will have no alternative but to call in four guards to hold you down. And when I have finished, I will let them have you, as is the usual custom in these matters.

"I would prefer not to call in my guard as I will enjoy you more if we are alone and you are docile. And, I assure you, you will enjoy it more, much more, if I do not call in my guard." Kmordri sat back to let the facts of the situation sink in.

Hraja was not stupid and knew the Klingon was not bluffing. He was, however, inexperienced in handling lustful Klingons and knew he could not convince this one to let him go. He swallowed the contents of his wineglass and held it out to his captor to be refilled.

"Are you enjoying the wine more?"

"Oh, yes."

* * *

"Exiled. Oh, excellent." Master Whilla paced the room in the Commune's temporary home on Ivishian. He stopped pacing and turned to face the Talljets, Tien and Kalzat. "What now?"

Ling cleared his throat. "We move the Commune to Dhrgestera where it will be safer."

Master Whilla nodded, what did he care where they were now that they were exiled from the only life they had ever known?

"It's starting to come undone, Whilla." Hobie said tiredly. "The Klingon and the Rom Empires are in disarray. They're preoccupied with the fights they've picked with each other lately. The Klingon Church is too busy exiling you all to make peace. The pirates have seen an opportunity to loot, pillage and otherwise enjoy themselves unimpeded and are making the most of it. Star Fleet seems paralyzed by internal dissension and the fucking Terrans won't lift a finger about anything that doesn't directly concern Terra..."

"By the time this does directly concern Terra, the humans will be lying in a pool of blood watching the Tziviian Pirates carrying off their children," Jir said bitterly. He was tired, they were all tired but Jir got snappy when he was tired. He was also sick of the Terran attitude that thought trouble in the hinterspace would never touch them. Fools. Ninnies. Idiots.

"Yes, well," Ling said smoothly. "We'll move you to Dhrgestera, it's on the border of Federation space and, if that gets too hot, we'll move into Federation space."

"How? We're Klingon subjects."

"Well, the upside of all the planets the Klingons lost to the Federation is that all you communists had citizenship on those planets and when they became Federationafied, you all were automatically granted Federation citizenship." Ling smiled. "It was quite elegant how the paperwork went through the Federation without a hitch. You, Master, have become a Federation citizen at least three times over."

"Zatichket, Bharselis and Olteiyva."

"Exactly."

"And what about Master Khat and Hraja and that model taken from us?" Whilla was very concerned about his colleague and the Journeyman.

"We will bring them back to the Commune," Maja stated flatly. "If that is god's will."

"I shall pray that it is so, GozineGhet." Whilla rose gracefully and swept from the room.

"What are we going to do?" Kalzat asked quietly.

"Go get them," Maja said.

"We don't know where they are."

"As soon as we know; we go. For now, Ling goes with the Commune and we stay put until we find them."

Neria-Tza stuck his head in the door. "They're here."

"Bring them in through the back." Maja rose. "Children, leave the room."

"But..." Tien began, wanting very much to stay.

"Leave. Now." Maja was firm. He watched Kalzat and Tien depart and turned to gesture Neria-Tza, Oza-Tol and Mizat to usher Mr. Yrit and Mr. Gvo into the room.

The Talljets lowered their eyes, except Maja who met their void gaze head on.

"I want you to find Master Khat and my son, Hraja, and then I want to know where they are," Maja said softly. "It will not be necessary for you to retrieve them. How much for this information?"

"Romulus," Gvo breathed.

"How do you know?"

"True rumorsssss," Yrit sighed.

/no charge/

"Why there?"

/why no charge/

"Klong-Rom Emperor." Gvo breathed.

/soon all will know/

Maja let his shoulders slump at this news.

"What?" Jir hissed furiously.

"Prince MajaTzaj. Maja the Rom," Maja said. "MajaKhat. Prince Khat. MajaKhat's father was Prince Kvortine, now the late Klong Emperor Kvortine. MajaKhat's mother was a Rom princess, younger daughter of the late Rom Emperor Rjegdigissi." He paced a few steps. "It's brilliant. Too bad we didn't think of it ourselves instead of those fucking Yhets."

The Talljets nodded. Maja turned back to the bounty hunters.

"Help us."

"Cosssst..." Gvo hissed.

"Cosssst...." Yrit hissed. "....cossssst you one quarter wholesale Vitisi tonne in crysssssstalsss and a new ssssship from Talljet Ltd."

"That's a lot," Maja said, thinking the exact opposite. "Quarter tonne and a ship is a lot for us." He continued to haggle for the sake of form.

"You want them," Yrit sighed.

"Of course but I'll go get them myself. We could hire an army for a wholesale quarter tonne. What do you say to wholesale ten percent?"

The bounty hunters simply gazed at him and then at each other.

"Twenty."

"Fifteen."

"Twenty."

"Hobie?" Maja asked the owner operator of Talljet Ltd.

"Fine with me," Hobie drawled.

"Done." Maja folded his hands serenely.

"When do we leave?" Gvo sighed.

Farro knocked and peeked in. Hobie put his body between the youngster and the hunters.

"WHAAAT," Hobie snarled. "You little savage. Do we have to lock the door for privacy?"

"Yes." Farro was suddenly not interested in the two tall pale and very scary looking beings he'd caught a glimpse of. "There's a humanoid here asking about Amanda."

Hobie glanced over his shoulder as Mr. Yrit and Mr. Gvo were ushered out the back door. "Ask him to step in here, tell him Master Whatnot wants a word," Hobie said, closing the door and turning back to his brothers and crew. "Mr. Death and Mr. Suffering must be having a sale."

"They don't want a united Klong-Rom empire any more than we do," Maja said dryly.

"I'm surprised you asked them along, Maja," Hobie commented leadingly.

"It saves bringing Tien to help track Hraja, and Kalzat because he won't let Tien go without him. And Farro, for that matter, because he wouldn't be left behind. Cuts out hours of arguing with them." Maja knew his children better than he let on. "Yrit and Gvo can track Hraja and MajaKhat by their emanations better and faster than we can. If they are on Romulus we will need speed as well as stealth."

"And who better than Mr. Death and Mr. Suffering for that." Hobie was impressed. "Smart thinking, Noli."

"And great haggling, Maja," Jir commented sarcastically.

"I was stunned by the deal they offered."

"Great recovery, NoloMaja," Ling said affectionately. "Can't I come with you to fetch MajaKhat and Hraja and Lady Amanda?"

"No." Hobie said flatly. "You've got to look after everybody else. I've, we've, no one else we can trust. Understand me?"

"Yes, understand you." Ling was disappointed but understood - it was the price of being the youngest and most reliable of them. "I'll move everybody to my house on Dhrgestera when you've gone. Come find us there, okay? May as well get some use out of those StaFlet patrols on the edge of Federation space."

Hobie motioned Neria-Tza to answer Farro's knock and stepped out of sight. A tall, lean, black haired half Drossian, half Bvristian male stepped into the room.

"ASHON! What the hell are you doing here?" Hobie cried, stepping forward. He was delighted to see his old acquaintance. "I heard your number came up in the Scolvati system."

"Obviously not, Hobie," Ashon drawled in Patois. "I'm looking for this Terrana named Amanda Sarek. Seen her?"

"Not lately," Hobie said through clenched teeth. He hated Amanda even more than Maja did. "But perhaps I will soon." He smiled charmingly at the best soldier of fortune he knew, and Hobie knew a lot of them. (Bounty hunting was a sideline for Ashon. Hobie would never hire him for that as long as Yrit and Gvo were in bodies.) "How'd you find us?" Hobie drawled pleasantly, waving Ashon to a chair. Everybody sat down to listen to Hobie chat with the DrossiCheq.

"Wasn't too hard. Picked up her trail on Hozlostra. Heard she was headed to Zhaharnisha. This Commune was the only thing going there and I heard you'd moved on. Good thing you leave a forwarding address for your supplies or I might not have got here 'til tonight."

"You make it all sound so simple."

"It's easy to find people who aren't hiding, Hobie."

"Who's your client?" Hobie poured the DrossiCheq some fruit juice.

"Some Vulcans."

"What are they paying you?"

"A lot. What of it?"

"Nothing." Hobie poured Ling a glass of juice. "Wanna have some fun, Ashon?" he asked blandly.

"Fun, Hobie? I'm working."

"Fun and profit. You see, I'm heading for where your missing lady be and I could use some help. It will be fun for you and I'll match whatever the Vulcans pay you." Hobie sat back to watch the DrossiCheq absorb this offer.

Ashon stared hard at Hobie for a moment before he turned his attention to Maja.

"You're Master Ghet, aren't you?"

"No longer. I'm back to plain old Maja Talljet."

"Are you going where the lady is?" Ashon thought Hobie's pirate grammar was charming but never used it himself.

"Yes."

"Why? Seems to me you'd not want her found."

It was Maja's turn to ask why.

"There's a vid circulating of you and her man dancing a Shakaar. Looks like you two were pretty cozy."

"This is not about that," Maja stated calmly and turned to Hobie. "Do you really need this creature along, Nolo?"

"Yes. If he'll come," Hobie said quietly.

"Come where?" Ashon finally asked.

"Romulus." Hobie leaned forward.

"Are you insane, Hobie?"

"Nope. That's where your Terrana be. You want her, come with us, give us a hand, and I'll pay you what I promised." Hobie sat back.

Ashon turned back to Maja: "Why are you going?"

Maja sighed. "My son and his father are with her. I'm going to get them back."

"What if they want to stay with her?"

"They certainly may, however, I'm sure they do not want to stay where they are now."

"On Romulus."

"Aye, on Romulus."

"Why are they there?" Ashon asked.

"Do you always ask this many questions?" Jir snapped.

"When I'm probably heading into death, yes, Fara, I do."

Jir threw up his hands and rolled his lovely eyes.

* * *

Princess Malira paced the balcony of her apartments in the Palace, elated. She was so close to realizing her revenge that all the years of exile and waiting were now worth it. She could barely contain her joy, it threatened to spill over and muss her stately demeanor.

She was even more delighted to see that Hraja, whom she hadn't seen since he was a baby, had KmordriYhet wrapped around his little finger. Malira had been wondering how she was going to control that Klingon and here was the solution, dropped into her lap.

"Bravo, Hraja!" Malira had cried in Master Khat's apartments.

"Bravo, what?" Hraja asked the 'grandmother' he did not remember. He had taken his father's word that Malira was the lady in question.

"How'd you seduce that fool Kmordri?"

Hraja looked scandalized.

Amanda tried to come to his rescue: "Your highness, it's not..."

"Shut up, girl, no one is talking to the 'help' today." Malira snarled.

Wisely, Amanda backed off. She felt great sympathy for Hraja, who was being worshipped against his will. The youngster was confused and trying not to enjoy the very enjoyable things that were happening to him every night, without his consent or, really, participation. She knew; he'd broken down in front of her after the second night with Kmordri.

It was that night, the second one, that had been the most ... confusing for Hraja.

The first night Kmordri had confined his lovemaking to ascertaining the taste and texture of every millimeter of Hraja's body. Kmordri had demanded complete passivity from the MageQuad because the Klingon only knew how to be the aggressor and was not ready to have his new lover touch him. This was normal for him, the difference was that Hraja was the first male he'd bedded.

Hraja could say the same (this was the first anything he'd been bedded by) and in his inexperience he was glad he didn't have to do anything. He could also tell himself that as long as he did not participate, it wasn't really happening or at least he could forget about it sooner rather than later. Also, there was absolutely nothing he could do about his erection - pure physical response - and since neither of them mentioned it (except for Kmordri's grunt of amused satisfaction as he ran his tongue the length and breadth of it), Hraja decided that he, Hraja, was not responsible for it either.

The youngster jumped as Kmordri's tongue brushed his anus. He had hoped the Klingon had not noticed but it was obvious that this was not the case when the hard wet tip returned and began to probe insistently at the tight ring. Hraja might have found a way to ignore this except for the Klingon idly stroking Hraja's cock as he continued his oral explorations of his ass. The MageQuad swallowed hard and began to conjugate Standard verbs to distract himself. This was not successful when Kmordri switched his oral ministrations to the youngster's cock.

The Klingon sucked in as much of Hraja's cock as he could without gagging. He fondled the youngster's silky balls and stroked his fingertips over the tight virginal ring. He sighed as he slipped a fingertip inside the youth. He grunted with satisfaction as he felt Hraja jump and clench at this first penetration.

"...Klingon," Hraja whispered, raising his head from the pillow.

Kmordri's answer was to let his sharp teeth gently close on sensitive flesh and release. He heard the quadroon gasp with discomfort and drop his head back on the pillow, returning to complete submissiveness.

Kmordri pressed his finger all the way in until he found the hard place behind Hraja's lovely penis. He began to stroke it and was gratified to hear his beauty panting with pleasure. The Klingon could also taste the lad's incredible sweetness on his tongue. Knowing Hraja could not last very long like this, he reached down to stroke his own cock so they could climax together. It was not a long wait. Kmordri sucked the last drops from Hraja's cock, withdrew his finger and rolled away from the puddle at his waist. He propped himself up for a better view of the flushed and panting youth. Having never sucked a cock before in his life, Kmordri was pleased that he could provoke such pleasure from this lovely creature. He reached out and ran his index finger along the bottom of Hraja's limp cock and was delighted to see it jump for him. He lowered his lips to the task again. And again and again until Hraja was dry and Kmordri had sore but happy jaws. Elated, the Klingon slipped away before dawn, leaving Hraja deep asleep.

The next morning Kmordri had a long, long conversation with his valet.

Hraja would have liked to have talked to someone about his evening with the Klingon general but neither Master Ghet nor Tien were here and he didn't feel up to discussing it with his father or Amanda.

That evening, Kmordri's valet came to Hraja's cabin and introduced himself. He arranged several boxes and bottles on the bedside table and turned to the MageQuad.

"Come," he said, "into the bath and we'll get you cleaned, inside and out."

"Whaddya mean, Klingon?"

"An enema," the Klingon said flatly.

"WHAT."

"You heard me," the valet snapped. "You need one if he's to penetrate you tonight."

"I think I'll have neither," Hraja asserted with more courage than he felt.

"Then here are your options: I call the guards and they hold you down until I'm finished with you and later he calls the guards and they hold you down until he's finished with you." The valet looked him right in the eye. "Or, you can cooperate and you don't get hurt. Much."

"This is more a trend, not a theme, with you Klingons, isn't it?" Hraja snarled back in his best Farro imitation. He didn't move until the valet turned toward the door with great determination. "Oh, all right, let's go."

"You can't appreciate how fortunate you are," the valet commented a short while later as he scrubbed Hraja's shoulders: "Kmordri is a very powerful and high born Klingon and you can have a long and beautiful future with him if you play your cards right." ('What cards?" Hraja wondered.)

He hauled up one of Hraja's feet and began to pumice the soles: "All these years and I never thought he'd take an interest in a youth and here you are. I can understand it. You aren't repulsive and you come from half of an excellent family." (Hraja frowned, wondering which parent was being insulted.)

The valet went to work on the other foot: "The General is very concerned about tonight. We had quite a long conversation about it. In fact, he has asked me to answer any questions you might have. Have you any?"

('Only how can I get out of this mess and I bet you don't have the answer to that, ridgehead,' Hraja thought sourly.)

Working shampoo into Hraja's honey blond locks, the valet continued: "Just as well, you don't want to be nervous because you know too much. But not to worry, he knows exactly what to do, we talked all about it this morning. Yes, quite a long conversation about how best to take you tonight. Rest assured, he is very concerned with your welfare, young man. More research has gone into deflowering you that went into invading Oblatava." ('....!')

"What should I .... should I...." Hraja trailed off, uncertain even of what one called the act. "... when he puts his, ahm, his cock..."

"First, make sure your legs are spread wide, then relax, then - if you can still feel your muscles - push out against him and don't make any sudden moves."

Hraja wished he shared the valet's confidence. "What do you mean 'if I can still feel my muscles'?"

"Not to worry, child, this is a good thing." The valet wrapped a towel around his wet hair and urged him to standing. "Now, come over here and lay on your belly."

"Why?"

"Guess." The valet waved a length of tubing at him suggestively.

"I've never done this before either," Hraja growled as he lay down.

"Ah, the rigors of a life in religion." The valet smeared a liberal amount of lube on the nozzle. "I suppose you will miss the simplicity of your former life for a while," he slowly inserted the appliance into Hraja, who grimaced as his cock hardened a little at the invasion, "but I think you will find," the valet began to send a low jet of warm soapy water into the prone youth, "that if you pay attention to your new surroundings," bored, he began to gently work the nozzle in and out of Hraja's virgin orifice, "that you may find it as interesting as the Commune. Step over here and sit, yes, that's right." The valet noted but said nothing about Hraja's half mast cock. "And then back on the table, yes, like that."

This process was repeated four times. The last time for the pure amusement of the valet.

He ushered Hraja under a hot shower and afterwards rubbed a light lotion into the quadroon's creamy skin. "He'll like this," he assured Hraja, thinking, 'I like this; maybe when Kmordri gets bored with him...' He combed out Hraja's hair into ringlets, something Hraja hated, and arranged it over his shoulders. "Now, listen carefully to me: do not resist, whatever happens, do not resist him. There will be a moment when he won't care who you are and if you try to stop him he will hurt you so he can finish. If you try to resist early he will get impatient and call the guards and you know what that means. If you resist when he has finished and is trying to come down, he might become enraged and strangle you, as he has done to a woman or two. Your best strategy is to hold onto and bite down on a pillow, that way you have some comfort if you need it. And be silent at all times unless he speaks to you. In this case, however, I think you will be all right but don't forget; I have warned you." He led Hraja to the bed and pulled back the sheets for the naked youth to slip between them. He dimmed but did not turn off the lights. The valet paused to look down at his and god's handiwork and compliment them both on the pretty sight Hraja made waiting in bed for his new 'protector'.

Hraja turned to look at the assortment of things on the bedside table: thin latex gloves and sheaths, three tubes: lubricant, anesthetic and muscle relaxant. He looked a question at the valet, who was still admiring him.

"The muscle relaxant is so you'll stretch, the anesthetic is so you won't feel any pain and the lube is so he'll slide nice and easy." The valet glanced at the chrono and the door. "Good luck," he whispered as he swiftly departed.

'I'll need it,' Hraja thought glumly as he tried not to get too comfortable in the big bed. Contrary to his best intentions he dozed and did not wake until KmordriYhet sat next to him.

"No, no, don't move, beautiful one," the general murmured, laying a commanding hand on Hraja's silky shoulder. "Let me look at you." He let his fingers glide down Hraja's chest to his nipple, which hardened obligingly. "We should savor this moment." Which he did for about one nanosecond before ripping off his robe and climbing on top of Hraja.

Kmordri ran his tongue over Hraja's firmly clenched teeth. "My guard is right outside, Hraja," he warned, running his fingers through the quadroon's blond hair.

Hraja relented and let the Klingon tongue explore his mouth. 'Maybe this is all he wants to do tonight,' he thought hopefully.

Kmordri slid his hand down Hraja's torso to caress the youth's hardening cock.

'Stay down, damn you,' Hraja despaired at his penis. 'Maybe this is all he wants to do tonight,' he thought optimistically.

The general ran his lips over Hraja's subtly ridged brow, pointed ears, long neck, over-large right shoulder, and down to his erect amber nipples, which he sucked to an even harder condition. He dragged his tongue along the youth's hard belly and down into his downy golden pubic thatch. Recalling the advice of his valet, he relaxed the back of his throat and exhaled as he devoured the honey colored shaft to the root.

Hraja rolled his head on the pillow and tried to think bland thoughts, conjugate verbs, something, anything not to be driven wild by the Klingon on his cock. 'Perhaps,' pant, heave, 'perhaps, maybe this is all he wants to do tonight,' he thought, desperately, stifling an abandoned moan.

Quite pleased with the way events were progressing, Kmordri decided they were both ready to move to the next level. He pulled his mouth off Hraja and rolled him over.

Hraja, recalling the valet's advice, got his arms around a pillow and buried his blushing face in it. He could feel Kmordri's breath on his back as slick gloved fingers probed him. They rubbed against the hard place behind his penis that made him feel faint, tingly and desperate. He felt warmth radiating into his muscles as the fingers, first one, then two, stretched him as they slid all the way in. The fingers withdrew and returned with a colder lotion. The last thing Hraja felt slipping past his tight ring were three fingers and then he could feel nothing but the weight of the Klingon on his back and between his legs.

Kmordri sat back on his heels and peeled off his glove. He lubed his cock before slipping on a sheath. Next time or perhaps the time after that, when his lover no longer needed his muscles topically anesthetized, he would know how this felt, flesh in flesh. But for now, this was fine as he truly did not want to hurt the youth. Kmordri had actually given some thought to how this would feel for Hraja and concluded that, inconvenient though it was, this was truly the best way to proceed. He centered his cock and pushed beyond the tight ring. He stopped when he heard Hraja's sharp intake of breath.

"Are you all right? Does this hurt?" Kmordri asked quickly, holding very still.

"Yes."

"Yes, what?"

"Yes, it hurts," Hraja lied. He was not in pain but what he could feel of the sensation of the Klingon's cock entering him was so bizarre, so personally invasive, it was alarming and Hraja, for all the valet's careful preparation, was shocked to the core of his being.

Recalling his research, Kmordri waited for the youth's muscles to give up their reflexive fight and then pushed in a little more. "Nonsense, I'm sure you're not feeling any pain."

"But..."

"Shhhh," Kmordri gently pushed Hraja's face into the pillow as a warning that he was not going to tolerate any mischief. He continued to work his cock in a little at a time. He knew he was not hurting the youth but he wished also not to frighten him.

Hraja buried his face in the pillow and fought down his panic. This was the first time he could remember losing control of his body to another person like this. His submission was complete; he was helpless. He could stop the Klingon taking him with neither words nor actions. This was bad enough: what was the sense of being beaten to pulp or killed this evening? Hraja knew the best strategy was submission but it was so difficult to stay still when his whole mind and body wanted to leap up and run from the room to find a dark place to hide. He squeezed his eyes closed tight as he felt Kmordri's full length settle on his back and legs. He was further horrified when the Klingon reached underneath him and began to stroke his still hard cock.

"At least your body is enjoying this, Hraja," Kmordri murmured in his ear as he matched the strokes of his hand to his strokes in and out of Hraja's ass.

Deciding he didn't want Hraja to be too sore tomorrow, Kmordri lengthened his strokes enough to bring them both off quickly. He rested a moment a top the sobbing youngster before he rolled off. He lay on his back catching his breath and listening to the sobs subside. He was tired and too mellow to care what the quadroon was crying about. Kmordri knew Hraja was not physically hurt so he couldn't be crying from pain. This crying didn't sound like that anyway, this crying reminded him of crying at funerals. And, frankly, at the moment it did not interest him. He rose, stripped off the sheath and tossed it aside. The Klingon put on his robe and slippers and left without a word. He went back to his own bed and, after a brief chat with his valet, slept better than he had slept in years.

Hraja was so relieved Kmordri was gone he nearly began to cry again. He sat up, fought down his panic and pulled himself together. 'What for?' he thought in despair and flopped back onto the pillows. 'There's no one to talk to about this, no one at all.' He buried his face in the pillow again as the door slid open.

"Of course you can ask General Kmordri, but I assure you he asked me to look in on Hraja and that is what I am doing," Amanda said, entering.

Hraja sat bolt upright: "Yes, he did! I asked him to, so get out, Klingon."

The guard looked at the two unarmed and harmless beings before him, and decided he would ask the general and departed to do so.

Hraja collapsed sobbing into Amanda's arms and was eventually comforted.

"How'd you know to come?"

"I heard him pass my door and I knew he'd come from here."

Hraja buried his face in Amanda's neck. Kmordri's step was embedded in both their brains.

"It's all over now," she soothed in Standard. "Did he hurt you?"

"No, but..." Hraja wasn't sure what words he wanted. "He...he made me .... he made me helpless, powerless..." He trailed off as the door opened again.

Kmordri's valet came into the room and crossed to the bed. He waved the guard away and looked the two prisoners over with a critical eye.

"You were not summoned but perhaps you should stay," he said sternly to Amanda in Romulan, hoping she could understand. He turned to Hraja: "I understand you did very well tonight, the General is quite pleased."

Hraja started to groan but cut it short when he felt Amanda's hand tighten on his arm warningly.

"Yes, quite well," the valet continued. "It is necessary, however, that I examine you..."

"Don't touch me!" Hraja recoiled.

"....if you are bleeding you need attention."

"DON'T..."

"Hraja," Amanda said gently in Vulcan, hoping the valet would take it for an obscure Rom dialect (which was exactly what it was). "Please, you might be hurt and .... and you really don't have any choice, do you?"

The valet knew good sense when he heard it, even in a dreadful dialect, and hoped Hraja did, too. It would be unpleasant to have to call in the guards after such a splendid (as he had heard from the general) night.

"Oh, all right," Hraja exhaled and hesitated. He and the valet looked at Amanda.

"I'll be over here when you're finished," she said, moving across the room to look at the tapestry covered wall. She uncorked a bottle of Klingon brandy and poured a largish snifter.

The valet pulled a robe from the closet and helped Hraja into it and then into the bathroom. He found no significant damage but would try to convince the general to let the youth recover for another day before making his second penetration. After all, there was no rush, was there? He cleaned Hraja up and rubbed some healing ointment into the tiny tears and helped him back to bed.

"Here drink this." Amanda handed Hraja the brandy and got a nod of approval from the valet. "Would you take the message to Prince Khat that I will finish the night here?"

"I guess there's no harm," the valet said, leaving.

Amanda watched the door close and slipped into bed beside Hraja and put her arms around him. She had no idea what to say to him or even if he wanted to talk but she could feel his relief and gratitude as he curled up next to her and pulled the covers over his head. She held him all night and felt almost as helpless and useless as she had when Sarek was kidnapped.

'At least I'm here with them,' she thought calmly. 'Maybe this time I can... do something, anything to help instead of wringing my hands from a distance.'

So, she was not too distressed by Malira's 'Shut up, girl, no one is talking to the 'help' today.' At least she was around to be told to shut up.

"Please don't tell Amanda to shut up, 'grandmother' and she is not 'help'," Hraja said mildly to the ferocious Rom princess. "She is our friend."

"Yes. Please, Mother," MajaKhat murmured. After all these years he still hesitated to contradict her.

Malira rolled her snapping black eyes and refocused them on Hraja: "I want to know, Hraja. We're going to need that Klingon and if you have some special influence..."

"I have NO influence, Rom." He cut her off and crossed the room to get away from her.

Malira was raised to consider retreat to be merely fighting in another direction. She turned to regard her son, who headed for the other side of the room. She then turned to find Amanda gazing at her. "What are you looking at, girl?" she snarled at her.

"Your jewelry."

"My jewelry?" Malira was taken aback. She wore lots of jewelry but never thought about it much.

"Yes. It's quite nice."

"Thank you. I made it."

"Really?" Amanda took a tentative step forward to get a closer look and stopped uncertainly.

"Yes, yes. Come over here and I'll show you, girl." Malira waved Amanda to a seat at the table and dumped all her jewelry on it. She explained what had inspired her and how she had designed each piece, the techniques she used to cast, stamp or sculpt the metal, bone, stone or wood, her preference for opaque jewels to brilliants, for white metals over colored ones. She was talking so intensely about her art that she did not notice her son and grandson had joined them until MajaKhat spoke.

"I remember when you made this, Mother," he said picking up a heavy necklace of intricately filigreed platinum encrusted with stones. "I was eight and you let me choose the order of the stones."

"Do you remember how you did it?" Malira asked, amused.

"Of course. I rolled them in my hands and poured them in a line and told you to start from the eastern end." Master Khat smiled at his mother. "And you did."

"It was good advice as you can see, my son." Malira patted his hand. She looked at Amanda and back at MajaKhat: "Why is this girl here? She is ... too fragile for this part of the galaxy."

MajaKhat told her the story of their abduction and how Amanda had stayed by him and Hraja to offer whatever aid and comfort she could, regardless of the risk to herself.

"So she is the most dangerous combination in a woman," Malira said, rising. "Loving, brave and fearless. Admirable, but those kind of women don't last long out here. However, they do make wonderful martyrs and we'd have almost no mythology without them." She lifted the necklace MajaKhat still held in his hands and draped it around Amanda's neck. "You might as well have something pretty to wear as long as you last." Malira paused as if forming the word in her mind before her mouth. "Amanda."

"Why are we here, Mother?" MajaKhat asked after a short silence.

"You haven't guessed?" Malira asked. "You're about to become the Emperor of the combined Klingon-Romulan Empire."

"You can't be serious, Mama."

"I'm as serious as a phaser barrage against an unfortified position." Malira looked hard at Hraja. "This wondrous consolidation of Empires was engineered by the Klingon your Hraja refuses to discuss with me."

"That ... thing arranged this all by himself?" MajaKhat was horrified that their health and welfare were in the hands of that ... thing, KmordriYhet.

"Weeeeellll, he had some help. My father and ex-husband did us all a big favor by dying so conveniently close together and without obvious heirs. Except you, that is. KmordriYhet's uncle is the Klingon Imperial Regent until tomorrow and then he becomes the Supreme Imperial Administrator of Klingon and Klingonese space. My cousin, Prince Adrajesi, will become the Supreme Imperial Administrator of Romulus and Romulan space. This is just a front, though, KmordriYhet will run this end of the empire for his uncle. With my help, of course." She paused to beam at Hraja. "That's why I'm so pleased you're leading him around by the nose, my grandson."

Hraja simply stared at her.

"And what am I supposed to do in all this, Mother?" MajaKhat asked.

"Hmmm?" Malira broke off her contemplation of Hraja. "Oh. Stand up straight, look good at Imperial functions, sire an heir off one of these females I picked out for you and generally do whatever else you're told to do."

"I see," MajaKhat sighed, realizing there was no point trying to reason with his mother when she was in this galaxy conquering mood. "You know, Mother, we're all rather fatigued from our journey. Do you suppose we could meet again after a few hours?"

"Of course, my children." Malira rose and swept from the room.

* * *

"You must be joking," the Hierophant Kroldt said to General KzijietHaat. "He's a priest and a painter and now he's an Emperor..." He trailed off, staring at the vid screen before him.

"OUR Emperor, Kroldt. A creature of the Yhets' now."

They watched the vid of the Coronation in silence. Neither wondered who the dark haired woman standing behind Princess Malira was.

* * *

"Oh my god. Please tell me this isn't true, Ripley," was all Admiral Jessup could manage to his aide as they watched Maja I being crowned emperor by the Most Holy Meta-Pashtun of the Most Holy Romulan Church.

* * *

"STOP IMAGE!" Spock was on his feet and, for him, ashen.

"Sector image. Close on sector 8." Kirk's voice was flat with shock. McCoy next to him was speechless. "Magnify. Close on sector 8.1. Magnify. Close on sector 8.6.2. Magnify. Stop."

"What in god's name is she doing on Romulus?" McCoy whispered into the stunned silence of the bridge.

* * *

"I believe we have discovered the Lady Amanda's whereabouts," T'Pau said to Sarek the Vulcan.

"Indeed."

* * *

"She makes a great brunette. Wonder why she's never tried it before," was all Hobie had to say about Amanda's appearance at Maja I's coronation. He, Jir and Maja were watching it in one of the three little ships moving very quietly through Romulan space.

"Did you see Hraja? Help me look for Hraja, Nolo. Scan back to the beginning, wide angle, slow." Jir was upset and doing a bad job of hiding it. How they were going to 'rescue' the Klong-Rom Emperor, Maja I, his son and their 'friend', the Vulcan lawyer had not a clue.

"Malira," Maja hissed. "What's that crazy witch up to?"

* * *

"What did Laninin say?" Ling asked Qhoshi, his lead empath whore, confidante and Managing Director of Talljet Inc.

"He liked the music," Qhoshi answered dryly, referring to Maja I's coronation vid, which she'd played for Laninin, the son Yrit and Gvo had sold to the Talljets five years ago.

"You'd think all that prophetic Magidrian, Cmovi and Phol blood could give us a forecast on the future instead of a music review." Ling was testy because here, on Dhrgestera, he was so far away from the action and he was worried. Seeing Amanda but not Hraja on the vid had shaken him badly. He was very concerned for all of them and simply wanted everyone home and dry.

"Wait 'til he hits puberty, Ling," Qhoshi murmured in her low, warm voice that had coaxed the secrets out of a thousand beings. "If we live."

"Don't be negative, Qhos. Things are bad, but not that bad." Ling wondered if he was convincing anyone, least of all Qhoshi. Since he had settled the Commune on Dhrgestera, they had been joined by Jir's theater company, which had recently been kicked out the Orissian Empire by the Sultan. He was tired of Jir roaming the galaxy, and of feeding his actors in his absence. Smig, Jir's secretary, and Phr-tolnet, Jir's co-star, had sent a frantic message to Qhoshi when things became really difficult on Orissa. And that fine lady had simply sent a ship to bring them to Dhrgestera, found them a space to rehearse in, put them on a strict allowance and left them to their own devices.

Qhoshi was a busy woman. She was the only other non-Talljet, aside from Stez, Ling's lover since W. Vul. Prep., who had Ling's complete trust. She had earned it and treasured it. They had met in a temple on Yzreina where Qhoshi was about to take her final vows to become an oracle priestess. The Yzreinains, especially the women, are a highly empathic species. Jir had recently finished the business plan for his joyhouse and required four to six Yzerianians or Ocacatarians for it to succeed. He wound up with three Yzerianian females, two Ocacatarians males and two Deltan orphans, a brother and sister, that looked after the housekeeping and garden. (These last two he'd won in a card game on Brophria and they were useless except for being good natured, tidy and easy on the eyes. Ling made sure they had good educations and offered to set them up somewhere but they preferred to remain with the 'house'.)

Qhoshi had been born into the priestesshood and never thought she'd do anything but spend her life contemplating the mysteries of the Yzerianian Oracle. Ling had simply mentioned that it was a big galaxy and it had plenty of other mysteries to contemplate and that was all it took, that and a long look into Ling's gentle eyes - she and two sister novices packed their bags and left with him. She had traveled quite a bit, with and without Ling, ran the joyhouse with precision and compassion, managed the day to day affairs of Talljet Inc. in Ling's absence, and, along with the other empath/telepaths, she looked after Laninin. Qhoshi had spent her life around empath/telepaths but she had never seen a child so strong. With a firm but gentle upbringing he would probably become an oracle. Without it - a monster. Qhoshi and the other joyhouse residents had been dubious when the baby Laninin had come to live with them but in time they had grown to love him so much his removal had become inconceivable. The Deltans, understanding Laninin's orphan state better than anyone except Ling, had adored him from the gitgo and had carried him around like a doll until he could walk on his own. (He adored them, too.)

"Look, Qhoshi, I'm a little nervous," Ling confided. "Things are bad and I've a feeling they're going to get worse."

"Yes, as I was saying."

"Yes, exactly as you were saying, my dear, and right as usual." Ling smiled at his friend and Managing Director. "Here's the worst case scenario: the planet systems around the Tossarian Autonomous zone decide they smell blood, try to push into our space and drive us out of it. We've lost the oblique support of the Klingons and the united Klong-Rom Empire is going to lull everyone that doesn't know better into a false sense of security. I suspect the fighting will come down this way and push against the border of Federation space. Well before that happens, I want you to take everyone to Vulcan, to the Sas and lay low until the storm passes."

"All right, Ling, wonderful big picture, let's do some details." Qhoshi like to know exactly where every stone might be. "Exactly what systems are you worried about?"

"The Ertig system has been restless for years. The Mvovlris, Drobshri, Sovla, and Brishrji systems will follow the Ertig if they think they can improve their position."

"When all they'll really do is splinter and make themselves vulnerable to the Klong-Rom Empire or whatever."

"The Klong-Rom Empire is doomed to fall apart, it's merely a stopgap to avoid a war until the two empires can work out who they want on their respective thrones. It's in everybody's best interest not to start another Klingon Romulan war. That's how poor MajaKhat got dragged into all this, he's just a figurehead until the real power emerges. However, I doubt those idiot Yhets can keep the peace. I've a very serious feeling we're in for another nasty Klong Rom war. In that case, our space and the systems around it that are in the non-aligned corridor between Klingon and Federation space will be pushed against Federation space to avoid the fighting in Klingon space."

"Ling, most of the galaxy outside of the Federation would have to be at war for that to happen." She looked into Ling's eyes. "Unless it's already started."

"It has, Qhoshi. It started when the Tziviian Pirates decided their Autonomous zone was too small and the Tossarian Pirates were too weak to be a threat anymore. Too weak because the Tossarians didn't finish the 'invasion' they started last year. The Klingons have gone from that area and the Roms are quieter than usual due to the problems, now solved, of imperial succession. Also, the Federation has thinned out their border patrols in this quadrant because the isolationists on Terra want to forget this end of known space. This has given every scalawag from here to there the idea that none of the three major powers in the known galaxy will lift a finger if they decide to grab some more space. And, you know, dahling, they're right."

"Aren't these scalawags afraid of the united Klong-Rom Empire?"

"Not as long as the Yhets, now the major clan there, are too busy consolidating their own power and settling old scores to notice the rest of the quadrant going to hell in high heels. The non-aligned space folk will simply grab as much as they can and sort it out with the Roms and the Klongs later. In the meantime, the amount of damage they can do to us is astronomical."

"I see. Well then, perhaps Laninin did say something useful."

"Which was?"

"He said he enjoys will be enjoying to enjoy being in the hot dry place."

"Vulcan."

"Vulcan."

* * *

"Do these apartments suit you, Hraja?" Kmordri asked

"As well as anything here." Hraja was not in a great mood. Kmordri had not allowed him to attend Maja I's coronation and Hraja was bright enough to realize that this was how private and domestic his existence in the Imperial household would be. If he was even allowed to stay near his father and Amanda. The new apartments Kmordri referred to were huge, lavish and in another wing - Kmordri's wing - of the palace.

"And does the studio contain everything you require?" Kmordri ventured.

"Yes. Except one thing."

"Name it. You shall have it."

"The Gozshedrefreingin Commune."

Kmordri actually gave a few seconds of thought as to whether something like that could be arranged before he decided to laugh it off: "Oh, no, my beauty. Even if it still existed..."

"WHAT!" Hraja leapt to his feet.

"As I've said." Kmordri rose to his feet just in case the MageQuad attacked him. "The Commune no longer exists. It was exiled by the SRL."

"The what?"

"The Supreme Religious Leader."

"But they live....?"

"The last I was informed, they have fled the Empire." Kmordri watched Hraja sink back into his chair. "There is, however, a price on their heads." He sat himself. "They cannot elude justice forever," he added, turning his thoughts to the pleasures he anticipated this evening.

"But they live," Hraja said quietly, thinking: 'And you will never catch them.' He turned to find the Klingon admiring him with an undisguised proprietorial air.

"You must learn to enjoy your new life, Hraja." Kmordri said gently. "I will do all I am able to please you in it. I will, however, expect you to please me in return."

Hraja blandly returned the Klingon's gaze while weighing the relative merits of living in lavish disgrace and being dead. He lowered his eyes in his best imitation of submission. 'Well,' he thought. 'At least when you live there is always a plan B.' From beneath lowered jet lashes he watched Kmordri rise.

"Come to bed," the Klingon husked. "I long for you."

* * *

/have you given any thought to our lasssst dissscussssion, MageCheq?/

/yes, quite a lot/

/and/

/I am not ready to transcend this body or this reality/

/why not?/

/I have more lessons and I love too many here to leave it/

"Maja." Hobie broke into his brother's communication with Yrit and Gvo; it made him nervous.

"Yesssss, NoloHobie?" Maja sighed. He could feel the hunters smile in their minds.

"Nothing. Qwuushi and Oza-Tol will stay with the ships while we go in. You, with Yrit, Neria-Tza and Mizat. Me, with Gvo, Ashon and Jir." He turned to the hunters: "Are you sure you've got them?" He referred to the unpleasant scene of the hunters mauling MajaKhat's cloak and Hraja's sketchbook. Hobie had further demanded that they find an object in the Commune with residual emanations, which they did with ease. He wanted to be one hundred and ten percent sure of them before they went into Romulan space.

"Yessss. Bring usss to the northern end of thisss building," Yrit sighed, pointing to the palace on the viewscreen.

"We're lucky. No moon tonight," Jir said.

"Yesssss. Lucky," Gvo sighed at him. Jir, unnerved, moved to the other side of the small bridge area.

Hobie maneuvered himself between the hunters and his brothers. 'Why bother for Maja,' he thought sourly. 'He likes these ghouls now.'

The two little cloaked ships moved silently out of the stratosphere and down toward the surface. Yrit and Gvo had left their ship in orbit. If they succeeded, they would have a new ship from Talljet Shipyards Ltd. and no longer need it. If they failed, their bodies would be destroyed and they would no longer need a space ship at all.

The ships glided through the moonless night and passed unobserved by the Romulan monitoring devices. Hobie had improved on a sensor jamming device he'd 'borrowed' from the Oviriccins that deflected the beam so subtly around the object that it was unobserved in the field. They were counting on that, and the wild improbability of anyone being insane enough to kidnap the Emperor out of his own palace, to lull the guards into a false sense of security and let them pass by unnoticed. And luck, dear god, weren't they all counting on their Talljet luck.

They let a ramp down onto a deserted balcony on the level Yrit and Gvo indicated. Gvo led his party east and Yrit led his west.

Hobie, Jir and Ashon could move like shadows but they felt like amateurs compared to Gvo. They followed in awe of his fleet silent progress. He paused when they encountered a guard and waited for him to pass them by. This happened several times before they reached MajaKhat's heavily guarded door.

Not wishing to raise an alarm, they quietly slipped forward and dispatched the two Romulan guards. It was quieter for Jir and Ashon to slit their throats and have Hobie and Gvo ease them to the floor behind some pillars. Gvo preferred not to send telepathic energy to subdue the guards because the Roms were telepaths themselves and might send up an alarm before they could stop them with more direct methods. Besides, the hunt was to find MajaKhat, not kill Rom guards. That he could leave to the Talljets and their friends. His job was to receive energy, not send it.

"How long before the guard changes?" Hobie whispered to Gvo.

"They had jusssst come here," Gvo sighed, referring to the last thoughts of the dead guards.

"Good." Hobie pushed the big doors open and they slipped inside.

w

~~

Neria-Tza and Mizat were impressed and horrified by how well Maja and Yrit worked together. They moved in tandem, each seeming to read the other's thoughts and be exactly where they were needed. It was creepy but necessary because the area Hraja was in was heavily guarded by Klingons. They had already left a trail of dead Klingons hidden behind them and they were not even half way there.

They arrived at Hraja's apartments as the guard was changing. There were ten Klingon warriors guarding the door: four for Hraja and another six for Kmordri, who had decided to spend most of the night there.

Yrit motioned them back down the hallway and onto a terrace. He leaned over and looked up and down the walls.

"Up one level," he sighed and they followed him down the corridor and up the staircase. They came to a door that opened into a parlor. They moved through the rooms until they reached the bedroom, which was unoccupied, and onto the balcony.

Mizat leaned over the railing and wished they'd brought some rope or something. Neria-Tza wished he wasn't afraid of heights; flying was all right but up here, in the open was bad, very bad.

Maja came out of the bedroom tying the bed curtains together: "C'mon you sluggards, I know you can tie knots, help me make a rope. Yrit, go lock the door. Hopefully the owner of these rooms won't be back for a while."

They let the rope over the balcony and dropped silently down onto Hraja's. It was a warm night and the doors were open. The quartet moved around the bed and looked down at the sleepers, Maja by his son, and Mizat and Yrit by Kmordri, should he wake and need to be subdued. Neria-Tza took up a position by the doors, in case they had company.

Yirt and Maja exchanged looks. Yrit placed his hand on Kmordri's brow so he would not wake and Maja placed his hand over Hraja's mouth so he would not cry out.

Hraja woke with a start and threw himself into Maja's arms: "I knew you'd come," he whispered.

"Get up and get dressed," Maja whispered coldly. "Who's your 'friend'?" He jerked his chin at Kmordri, still under Yrit's fingers.

"He's not my friend," Hraja said, pulling on his clothes.

"Oh?" Maja pulled a knife from his belt and handed it to Hraja, who took it and looked at it for a moment.

Mizat stepped out of his way as Hraja moved around the side of the bed. Hraja looked at Yrit, who did not move, and estimated he could cut Kmordri's throat from that angle. He raised the knife to strike.

"Wait," Yrit breathed and everybody froze. "Not yet, not yet, for him."

Hraja struck but Yrit was faster and stayed the MageQuad's hand, the blade millimeters from Kmordri's throat. Hraja turned to shake the hunter off but one look into Yrit's eyes took all the fight out of the youngster. Yrit moved Hraja's hand away from Kmordri and shook the knife out of it and onto the bed beside the peacefully sleeping Klingon.

Maja moved to his son's side and gently pulled him out of Yrit's grasp: "We go," he hissed.

They turned to see a panel open in the wall and Kmordri's valet stepped into the room. He might have raised an alarm except Neria-Tza glided up behind him and broke his neck before he could.

"Let's go," Neria-Tza suggested.

"Not yet." Malira was standing in the passageway holding a sidearm blaster.

"Malira! How nice to see you again," Maja whispered, trying to think of how they could kill her without the blaster going off and deciding they couldn't.

"What are you doing here, Gozine?"

"Getting my son."

"Leave him. I need him to keep Kmordri in line."

"Oh, so that's General KmordriYhet. I thought he'd be taller," Maja mused, impressed nonetheless by Hraja's former bedmate. "My son is no good for keeping Klingons in line. Too much heart, not enough steel. Why are you here right now?"

"I followed the valet as I do every night. When Kmordri leaves, Hraja and I have a long talk about him, don't we, child?"

Hraja was silent.

"Do you always bring a blaster?" Maja was impatient to be gone.

"I'm always armed now that I live in civilization again," she said.

Maja had a flash of insight: "Give it up, Malira, it's all over. You must realize this sham Klong-Rom empire can't last much longer. You know what will happen to MajaKhat and Hraja when it falls. They're dead. You're dead. You engineered this didn't you? And then you handed it to the Yhets, who could care less about you, your son and your grandson."

"That's why I need Hraja for Kmordri."

"And when the Klingon Regent, Admiral KzaxreaYhet, recalls Kmordri to Klingon because he's under your thumb, what then?"

Malira was silent, loathing to hear what she had already concluded herself and not willing to let go yet.

"Look, Malira, you've still got Maja I going. Just let me take my son home and you can do whatever you like," Maja ventured.

Malira narrowed her eyes at them: "You'd never come for just one, Gozine. I know you, you've come for MajaKhat and his girl as well."

"But I'll settle for Hraja and go in peace," Maja lied.

Malira considered this for a moment.

"Listen, Malira, it's all over." Maja insisted. "Come with us. You can build a new civilization somewhere and be armed all the time there, too. Whatever you want, but let's go, now."

They started at the sound of an outer door opening and footsteps coming closer. Malira moved to the door and opened it a crack before the caller could knock.

"You've got heavy boots, Klingon," she snarled in that language. "What do you want?"

"General Kmordri asked to be wakened at this time, your highness."

"He is in the shower and will be with you very soon."

"Very good, ma'am." He turned and left.

Malira turned back to her audience: "Damn you, Gozine, I had all the answers an hour ago. Come, this way to MajaKhat, I used to play in these passages when I was a girl."

~~

Leaving Ashon to guard the outer doors, Hobie and Jir glided across the outer rooms following Gvo's unerring progress to MajaKhat. They slipped into the dark bedroom and looked down at the sleeping figures in the bed: Maja I and his imperial concubine, Amanda.

Hobie clamped a hand over MajaKhat's mouth and shook him awake.

"Oh thank the merciful mind of god," MajaKhat whispered, seeing it was Hraja's uncles. "We've got to get my son."

"Maja is seeing to it; get dressed." Hobie pulled a stiletto out of his boot and looked at Amanda, who'd just woken.

"Hobie, what are you...?" MajaKhat began.

"She'll only slow us down," Hobie said quietly, leaning forward.

"Fuck you, Hobie," Jir cut in. "I'll carry her." He pulled Amanda out of the bed and onto his back. He picked up a robe at the end of the bed and tossed it to her.

"That's good thinking, Jir. Hobie, come on!" MajaKhat wanted to be gone before an argument started.

"Wait," Gvo breathed.

"Let's go," Hobie snarled in an undertone.

"Wait," Gvo repeated.

"Let's go." Ashon stuck his head in, wondering what the hell was holding everything up. He leapt sideways when the panel next to him began to open.

"Hold." Gvo ordered and everybody took their hands off their weapons. "This way." He led them past Neria-Tza, holding the panel open, and into the passageway.

They found their co-rescuers, Hraja and Malira waiting for them and they flew silently through the walls of the palace to their ships.

Jir, Amanda, MajaKhat, Mizat, Neria-Tza and Gvo flung themselves into Oza-Tol's ship and Maja, Hobie, Hraja, Ashon, Malira and Yrit boarded the one piloted by Qwuushi. They moved silently and swiftly away from the palace, listening intently for alarms that never sounded.

Hobie heaved a huge sigh of relief and pulled Hraja into his arms: "You all right, little one?"

"I am now."

Hobie kissed his nephew's cheek and moved forward to help Qwuushi, who didn't need any help, steer. Malira and Ashon settled into seats in the back. Yrit stood quietly in the shadows, studying Hraja.

Maja gave his son a hard look: "Why was KmordriYhet in your bed, Hraja?"

Hobie looked back at them.

"He forced me..." Hraja began.

"He raped you?"

Hraja nodded.

"Rapists don't usually fall asleep beside their victims, child."

"I..."

"Maja, leave him alone," Hobie broke in. "There are all kinds of rape, whether you can appreciate that or not."

"I see," Maja said icily.

"No, you don't, Noli. It's never happened to you, thanks to the mercy of god," Hobie said coldly.

Maja backed off: "All right, let's leave it then." He turned to Ashon. "This will be the easiest money you've made in a long time, DrossiCheq."

"You can tell me that when I've spent it, MageCheq." Ashon informed him dryly.

Maja sat next to Malira: "Nice try, Malira. You might have made it work with anyone but the Yhets."

"Like you, the Hierophant and the Haats?"

"Maybe."

"It is futile to speculate on what might have been, Gozine," Malira pronounced majestically. "As to the future, where are you dropping me off?"

"With the Commune, if you don't mind. You'll have to pass yourself off as a Xochian or something."

"Will it require me to fart, spit and participate in lewd acts?"

"Only if you wish, Malira. You can, however, keep your name. Just stick to Klingonese or Patois and you'll be fine."

Feeling Yrit's eyes on him, Hraja looked up at him and then away, finding the PholCheq's gaze too intense.

"Why did you stop me?" Hraja asked quietly.

"It wasss not needed. You have never killed anything in your life. He did not damage you. You would have regretted it."

"How do you know?"

"I know."

"He did damage me," Hraja said stubbornly, turning away.

"Not enough to kill him." Yrit reached out to caress a blond curl. /You are not made to kill a sleeping man, Hraja, it is not in your nature. You were wise not to fight him, to wait for rescue. All is well, all is well. Sleep now, you are safe here./

Hraja felt a gentle peace descending and he relaxed for the first time in weeks. He looked around the cabin, at Maja and Hobie, and felt safe again, that he didn't have to dread the next day anymore. Sleepily, he curled up in a chair and dozed off under Yrit's watchful eye.

~~

"Was he going to kill me, Jir?" Amanda asked.

"Oh, I don't know, Amanda, maybe," Jir prevaricated. "Hobie's having a bad day, you know?"

"Thank you for stopping him."

"Thank him for allowing me to stop him. By the way, Amanda, you make a smashing brunette. I hope you keep your hair that way." Jir strolled to the front to flirt with his old friend, Neria-Tza.

MajaKhat put his arm around Amanda and told her not to worry about it.

"Like Jir says, he's having a bad day. I'm sure he wasn't going to use that knife he pulled," he soothed.

"If you say so," Amanda sighed. "I'm just glad to be out of there."

"Yes." MajaKhat turned to Jir. "Where're we bound, Jir?"

"The Commune."

"Surely not!"

"Well, a few things have changed since you were last there, MajaKhat." Jir proceeded to explain the new circumstances to the horrified former Klingon Master.

~

The two ships flew on to rendezvous with the Dancer, which was to convey MajaKhat, Amanda and Hraja to the Commune on Dhrgestera.

Mr. Yrit and Mr. Gvo were conducted to Povarb where a brand new, top of the line, long distance, deep space ship awaited them. Their twenty percent wholesale Vitisi tonne in crystals was paid to the usual account by Ling.

Ashon, with Amanda, contacted T'Pau on Vulcan and assured her of Amanda's well-being and intention to remain with the Commune. Ashon was paid his fee, which was matched by Ling in Federation credits.

Hobie, Jir and Maja Talljet divided the Tossarian pirate forces between them and spread out in the quadrant to attempt to restore their authority again. The ensuing war and turmoil in the Romulan and Klingon Empires, formerly the Klong-Rom Empire, after the collapse of that monarchy, was creating chaos in non-aligned space. The Talljets had some success reestablishing the boundaries of their space, the Tossarian Autonomous Zone, but their efforts were thwarted by the hostilities spilling over the Klingon and Romulan borders. The brothers were also up to their necks fighting the Tziviian pirates, whose incursions were bolder and bolder. The Talljets evacuated their shipbuilding communities on Povarb and Drovilla to the safety of Dhrgestera, where they set up those same operations to supply the fight. Hobie, Jir, Maja and their ships found themselves forced farther and farther back toward the border with Federation space. They found themselves defending a very thin strip of space between Dhrgestera and all hell.

Ling put Qhoshi, with Smig as her second in command, in charge of the move to Vulcan. Everybody not directly involved in ship and weapons building were packed up and sent off. He put himself in command of what was left of the Talljet/Tossarian fortunes in non-aligned space and sailed off at the head of a fleet to reestablish order in the Ertig system. This would free up Jir's ships in the zone between that system and the Brishrji system. It would give them some breathing space if they could restore a line of docile planets between these two systems. They could then consolidate their holdings and wait for the Klingon Romulan war to burn itself out. Ling could do nothing to help Hobie and Maja in their struggles in the Mvovlris system. Besides, except for dodging Klingon warships driven into the neutral zone, Hobie and Maja were winning their battles with the pirates and rebel planets there. They were in the thinnest area of non-aligned space between the Federation and the Klingon Empire. All would have been well there except that the Romulans were sending forays through non-aligned space to strike at the Klingon's underdefended backside.

* * *

Kirk pulled McCoy into his arms: "Stay with me tonight," he urged.

~

After cutting a swath through the Ertig system to disrupt the Certegian militia attacking Jir's forces, Ling's ships were ambushed by the combined forces of Lashodrian and Vri pirates.

~

"Does patrolling the border always make you so amorous?" McCoy asked in his most sultry voice.

"No. You do." He reached down to grab the doctor's ass.

~

In the Mvovlris system Hobie was fighting to drive the Gokia Guild mercenaries out of his trade and supply routes before raw materials supplying Dhrgestera's shipyards were cut off.

~

Since being assigned to the border operations, Kirk and Spock had changed their shifts so one of them was always on the bridge. This gave them each more time alone with Dr. McCoy, which they both, and the doctor, were enjoying. And the danger was a turn on, they had to admit.

~

Able to take the offensive again and trying to aid Ling, Jir's forces were temporarily trapped by the Neqfarsian Imperial Trading League's mercenary fleet, which was merely trying to escort as shipment of materiel through the war zone.

~

Kirk eased off McCoy's black t-shirt and bent down to caress the doctor's hard nipples with his lips.

~

On the other side of the Mvovlris system Maja was besieging the planet Yrva, the major stronghold of the Yrvan Revolutionary Forces and their temporary allies, the Ciren pirates.

~

Maneuvering them into a sixty-nine, McCoy gave himself over to the pleasure of Kirk's taste and texture.

~

Ling and his ships made a run for it into the Xochian Autonomous zone where Ling's allies in the Urizi Guild drove back the last of the pursuing pirates.

~

He drew Kirk's balls into his mouth very slowly, one at a time.

~

Hobie's fight turns ugly when an expeditionary force of twenty Romulan Birds of Prey drops out of warp to attack both sides. Hobie fled to join forces with Maja and regroup to attack again.

~

Kirk eased McCoy's penis down his throat and wished he could reach the lubricant under the pillow.

~

Knowing Ling was, for the moment, out of danger, Jir retreats back to the edge of the Droshri system, where they were shot at but not further attacked by the Aluq militia.

~

McCoy returned his mouth to Kirk's cock and swirled his tongue around the rosy head.

~

Maja's ships were driven away from Yrva and toward the Federation by a flotilla of Klingon battlecruisers on their way to meet the Romulans just arriving in the Mvovlris system.

~

Kirk dragged his tongue along the underside of McCoy's erection and played his lips around the edges of the helmet.

~

Hobie's ships and the Gokia Guild mercenaries, fleeing the pursuing Roms, found themselves trapped between the Roms and Klingons and were forced to turn toward the border of Federation space.

~

"Don't move," Kirk said, sitting up to grab the lube under the pillow. He lay down again and nuzzled at the base of McCoy's cock.

~

Using the Klingon's momentum, the Yrvan Revolutionary Forces and the Ciren pirates drove Maja's forces to the edge of Federation space.

~

Kirk stroked the underside of McCoy's cock as he slid a well oiled finger into the doctor.

~

Hoping to skirt along the Federation border to the relative safety of the Drobshri system, Hobie's forces were driven ever closer to the Star Fleet patrols by the battle between the Roms and Klingons.

~

Gently lifting McCoy's hips to place a pillow beneath them, Kirk reached under the doctor to caress his cock and pressed a kiss to the back of his lover's neck.

~

In an irresistible charge, the Romulans drove the Klingon ships into the Yrvan Revolutionary Forces engaged with Maja's ships thus forcing Maja's ships, half the YRF and some of the Ciren pirates into the line of the Federation ships patrolling the border.

~

Applying a generous amount of lube to his cock, Kirk stroked himself a little higher in anticipation of slipping inside McCoy.

~

Trying to escape the Rom and Klingon battle in the midst of which the other half of Yrvan Revolutionary Forces and the Ciren pirates suddenly found themselves, the YRF ships and the Ciren pirates ran headlong into Hobie's ships thus driving them into the line of the Star Fleet patrols.

~

Centering his cock, Kirk pressed gently but firmly forward and inside.

~

Klingon reinforcement ships attacked the Roms' flank and all the combatants were driven into Federation space.

~

Kirk paused just past McCoy's tight ring to give the doctor a moment to adjust. As often as they did this, Kirk always waited for the tiny rebellion that accompanied this act to subside in McCoy before taking full possession him.

~

Hobie's ship, the Lyra, was crippled in the melee and he and his crew were forced to abandon it.

~

With Spock, as well as Jim, McCoy always felt a moment of resistance to being penetrated. As if the willing submission required for him and his lover to fully enjoy this act might not occur. It always did but McCoy was thankful that his lovers understood this and waited for him to surrender on his own instead of demanding it. On the other hand, were they to demand it, they might not get it.

~

Knowing Hobie was in trouble, Maja brought his ships around to try to come to his brother's aid but is cut off and surrounded by Klingon ships.

~

Kirk felt McCoy relax enough to press forward a little more. He was further encouraged by McCoy subtly thrusting up to meet his gentle strokes.

~

Scanning the poorly shielded shuttlecraft making for the Yaga, the exec of the USS Eisler picked up Hobie's Federation Identifier Signal and had him beamed aboard and taken into custody.

~

Kirk paused to rest as he hit bottom and reached beneath McCoy to stroke his cock. He rubbed McCoy's moisture over the length of the doctor's hardness.

~

The rest of Hobie's crew, including Neria-Tza and Mizat got safely aboard the Yaga, and seeing that nothing could be done for Hobie, and on orders from Jir in telepathic communication with Hobie, they ran for it.

~

Ready to be fucked, McCoy shifted suggestively under Kirk. Perceptively, Kirk interpreted these actions and began to move in tiny thrusts against the doctor's backside.

~

Informed by the Ciren pirates, who were monitoring Maja's communications, that the outlaw and heretic GozineGhet was in command of the ship, Maja was ordered to surrender by Captain KvriXert of the Klingon Empire.

~

Murmuring amorously into McCoy's neck, Kirk lengthened his strokes.

~

Maja agreed to surrender if his ship and crew were released. He was beamed aboard the Klingon ship.

~

Very close, Kirk pounded into McCoy's willing body and brought the doctor off in the same moment as himself. He lay propped up on his elbows to catch his breath for a moment before pulling out and rolling onto his back beside McCoy.

~

As promised by Captain KvriXert, Maja's ship was released and rejoined Hobie's ships, now making for Droshri system where they hoped to regroup with Jir.

~

McCoy reached over to tousle Kirk's hair and pull him into a playful kiss, when Spock commed from the bridge to inform his captain that he was ordered to the USS Albright to assist in the interrogation of Hobie Talljet.

* * *

/Not a lot we can do about it from here, Nolo./ Ling was stuck in the Xochian Autonomous zone.

/Ain't that the truth./ Jir was dodging the Aluq militia in the Droshri system. /Ling, see if you can find an old friend in the Klingon Empire and go see what you can do for Maja./

/I'm all right, Jir. It's the Xert clan I'm with. Old friends of the Ghets./ Maja neglected to mention he was in a heavily guarded cell nonetheless.

/And you're on your way to the Klingon homeworld, which even you can realize is bad news, Maja./ Hobie looked around his own heavily guarded cell on the Albright. He vaguely wished these Terrans would bring him some water that was not drugged. He did not allow his brothers to be aware of this thought.

/I'll go, Nolos, I know some people in the Klingon merchant fleet that owe me a favor./ Ling was hopeful that a way could be found to liberate Maja before Captain KvriXert reached Klingon.

/Hobie, I've sent word to Storen and Smig to petition to have your trial and incarceration on Vulcan due to your, and our, superior telepathic abilities. I'm also worried that you won't get a fair trial anywhere else./ Jir was worried that even on Vulcan there would be problems.

/The Terrans are howling for my head, Noli, they run the Federation. I assume I'm going to have a Federation trial, won't even Vulcan judges be forced to hang me to placate the Terrans?/ Hobie neatly outlined Jir's concerns.

/As your lawyer, I advise you not to be negative. Much depends on the kind of defense you get there./ Unbeknownst to his brothers, Jir had been preparing himself for this for years.

/Have faith, Hobie, Jir is an excellent lawyer./ Maja was almost as serene as he appeared to his Klingon guards, half of whom had already asked his forgiveness.

/No doubt. When was the last time you were in a Vulcan courtroom, Jir?/ Hobie bucked up a little.

/....... well, actually, never./

/What!/

/But I know how to do it./

/Never, Jir? I thought .../

/Maja, you've been away quite a while and Jir has had very successful cases elsewhere..../ Ling was one of Jir's major clients.

/Criminal cases under the Federation code?/ Hobie loved his brother but if he'd never...

/Don't forget the war crimes trial and the trial on Brosia 8. Those were criminal, no?/ Maja could smell blood and didn't know which brother to defend from which.

/Yes! And he won all of them. He's never lost a case. Have you Jir?/ Ling's optimism was a little rattled and he hoped it didn't show too much.

/This could be a first./ Hobie was having a really bad day.

/WELL, WHO ELSE ARE YOU GOING TO GET?/

/...../

/WELL?!/

/Well, no one, Jir, calm down please./ Hobie regretted his earlier lack of faith.

The brothers allowed themselves to settle into telepathic harmony once more.

/By the way, Jir, I'm sure you'll be magnificent but why have you never been in a Vulcan courtroom?/ Maja preferred to think about Hobie's situation rather than his own.

/I could always settle my Vulcan cases out of court. It's the only civilized way to do anything. And..../

/And....?/

/And the Vulcan court makes you shave your head and wear these very unflattering robes to appear before it./

/....../

/So! I'm going into a kangaroo court with a bald, badly dressed attorney on his maiden court appearance./

/YES./

/It's wonderful./

/I'll see you on Vulcan, Hobie./

/Godspeed, brothers./

/Godspeed./

* * *

'If these are your people, VulCheq, you're in a lot of trouble.'

Spock paused in his review of the events in the Shirkar Middle School #7 playground long ago. He looked over at Ensign Chekov piloting the shuttlecraft taking him to the Albright. There had been a small debate as to whether Sulu, a better pilot, or Chekov, also a good pilot but not as experienced as Sulu, shouhd deliver him through the dangerous space on the border. It was hoped that if they stayed well behind the line and in constant contact with the Star Fleet warships patrolling it they would have a safe journey. In the end it was decided that, in a pitched battle, Mr. Sulu's expertise was more needed for the many on the Enterprise as opposed to only Spock in the shuttlecraft.

'If these are your people, VulCheq, you're in a lot of trouble.' Hobie had said, breaking up Maja's first fight in defense of Spock.

SpockDeVulCheq still did not know if Hobie was right.

* * *

"So. If the half Vulcan can eat that much Vulcan sand to prove how Vulcan he is then you, as a monobreed, should be able to eat twice that, eh?"

The little group of Vulcan ten year olds around Spock turned to look at the stranger addressing them.

"It's logical, no?"

Spock rose to his feet and brushed the sand off his knees. He looked at the boy with long black hair brushed over his ears and in a tight braid down his back. The facial features were Vulcanoid but the twinkle in the large black eyes reminded him of his mother's family.

"So let's see ya do it."

The boy pushed past Spock to face down Smitok, Spock's main tormentor at school.

"Or are you less Vulcan than the VulCheq."

There was something in the stranger's voice that triggered the need in the group to take a step back, all except Spock and Smitok.

"I have nothing to prove to you, who ever you are." Smitok unwisely stepped forward.

"Oh yeah? I think you do. Maybe you just need some help getting it down." Maja kicked Smitok's legs out from under him and leapt on top of him. He had pried the struggling Vulcan's jaws open and poured in a handful of sand when the other children, except Spock, who was too stunned to move, leapt to Smitok's defense. They were five against one but Maja seemed to be holding his own.

Spock had just decided he should get some help before someone got hurt when two older boys also with long black braids down their backs waded into the brawl and pulled Maja out of it.

"MAJA, SHIIICHO! (Maja, stop it)," the taller of the two commanded dragging the younger boy back. The other big boy stayed between the five bloodied monobreed Vulcans and the strangers as they backed away. Spock found himself standing in an empty space between the two groups.

"SaLING!" Strin's sharp teacher voice rang out behind Spock as a smaller boy also with a braid down his back darted to the trio of strangers. "You are not to leave the classroom without ... permission ..."

Strin trailed off because he, like all the Vulcans present, was watching the cuts and bruises on Maja's face and hands disappear, then reappear on Hobie's face and hands before disappearing once and for all. The teacher shook himself and looked around the group. "And what is going on here?"

"Nothing," Maja offered innocently.

"Nothing?"

"I didn't see you in there," Jir said to Spock, referring to the fight on his behalf.

"These are my people, I will not fight them," Spock said piously.

"If these are your people, VulCheq, you're in a lot of trouble," Hobie told him, keeping a hand on Maja.

"Shiiiiiiiiow, Hobie (Leave him alone)." Maja shrugged under his brother's hand. "Hochofedra (It's my fight, my fun, why should he get involved?)."

"SaHobie and SaJir." SiVrisa, an administrator from the Preparatory Institute joined the group. "It is forbidden to leave the classroom without permission, however politely you excuse yourself." He looked around at the bleeding Vulcans, wary Talljets and puzzled Spock and Strin.

"I am sorry, sir, it was necessary but now I think everything is all right." Hobie turned Maja to face him and looked sternly into his eyes. "Shiiiow, Noli (no trouble, little brother)."

"Shiiiow, Nolo." Maja patted Hobie's cheek and turned to Ling. "Hemzjit, Ling (let's go)." He looked up at Strin, whom Maja, in the course of the morning class, had actually decided he liked. "Hemzjit, Strin." And walked off arm in arm with Ling.

Strin and SiVrisa exchanged bland looks. Strin turned to the remaining middle school boys and herded them back to either the classroom or the school healer, depending on the level of injury.

SiVrisa walked slowly back to the prep school with Hobie and Jir.

"How did you know there was trouble?" SiVrisa asked.

"I could feel it in my mind," Hobie answered, deciding to trust the Vulcan.

"And you, SaJir?"

"The same."

SiVrisa stopped and turned to the youths: "SaMaja will not succeed here if he fights. It is not the Vulcan way."

"At this moment, sir, I have more faith in my brother than your Vulcan way," Hobie said quietly.

Spock had heard the last part of this conversation from Maja a few days after the incident, when Maja was allowed to return to school due to Sarek's efforts on his behalf.

"Sir?" Chekov said quietly to rouse Spock from his reverie.

"Yes, Ensign?"

"We have arrived."

"Yes, I see that, Mr. Chekov." Spock looked around the shuttle bay of the Albright as they waited for the atmosphere to normalize for oxygen breathing life forms.

The exec of the Albright, Carlos Sunna, walked out to meet them.

"I didn't know you were on the Albright, Carlos." Spock had been two classes behind Sunna at the Academy. "I thought you were exec on the O'Brian."

"I was reassigned in the state of emergency. This is Commodore Wolfe's flagship, her captain requested I be assigned here." Sunna smiled at Spock. "I believe you know our captain, she used to be your old boss on the Enterprise, Number One."

Spock digested this news as he introduced Chekov to commander Sunna. Montana Wolfe, for reasons unknown to Spock, loathed him but he did not anticipate any interaction with her on his mission. Number One, now Captain One, Spock assumed, would remain as indifferent to him as always, unless he did something to displease her. Again, as far as he knew, this was not a situation where he would have any opportunity to please or displease her.

"Chekov? That's interesting." Sunna said, amused. "Captain Talljet said something odd yesterday when we asked him what he wanted for dinner. He said he wanted a Chekov. We couldn't figure it out." Laughing, he turned to Spock, who was not laughing.

"How do you find Captain One, Carlos?" Spock asked, changing the subject.

"Terrifying." Sunna led them into the turbolift.

Spock nodded. He himself found his former superior officer somewhat intimidating and challenging as well.

"Her first choice was you, Spock, but neither she nor the Commodore wanted to go up against Kirk for you."

"I did not think Commodore Wolfe would want me on her ship."

"She hates you, Spock, but this is serious out here. Serious enough for her to put aside her wounded vanity for a moment in the interest of defending the Federation..."

"What do you mean 'wounded vanity'?"

"Rumor is that a few years ago Wolfe got drunk, made a pass at you that you didn't even notice and that's why she hates you."

Spock glanced at Chekov, who was doing a bad job of not listening to the conversation.

"I do not recall the incident, Carlos." Spock said, dryly.

"Of course not, Spock, you never notice when anyone is making sexual overtures to you. You're incredible." Sunna looked at Chekov, whose eyes got big. "We had this bet at the Academy about which cadet would get Spock into ..."

"Carlos," Spock cut in. "Mr. Chekov is not interested in our cadet days."

Mr. Chekov modestly lowered his eyes.

Sunna reached out and stroked the ensign's soft cheek: "No, I guess not. Ah, here we are." He led them into the heavily guarded security area.

Hobie looked up with interest at the new arrivals: "Spock! You brought me Chekov. What a pal!"

Spock ignored him and raised his hand in the Vulcan greeting: "Live long and prosper, Hobie Talljet."

"What a thing to say, Spock. I'm locked up, heading for god knows what and all the food and drink they give me is drugged. I could use some water but I'll settle for Chekov instead." He smiled charmingly at the ensign. "But peace and long life, anyway." He waved his split fingers at Spock.

Spock turned to Sunna, who was having an intense conversation with one of the redshirts.

"The Institute suggested that drugs to lower his metabolism might depress his telepathic ability." Sunna said, rather shamefacedly, as he rejoined Spock and Chekov.

"I can assure you it would not, even if they were forced on him," Spock commented.

"Give me a moment, Spock." Sunna walked out of Security and returned a few moments later with a tray of food and a carafe of water. "I punched it up on the replicator for myself so it should be drug free."

"Thank you, Carlos," Spock said, taking the tray. "Will you find something to occupy Mr. Chekov while I speak to Captain Talljet?"

"I should love to, Spock." Sunna looked Chekov over with appreciation.

Spock raised an eyebrow but said nothing as he stepped into the first of four secure cubes leading to Hobie's cell.

"HEY! Where's he going? Hey, Chekov, don't leeeaaave meeeee like this," Hobie howled, much to the delight of the redshirts, who'd decided they quite liked him.

Hobie stepped back as the security screen cut his cell in half. Spock set the tray of food and drink on the table and stepped back himself as Hobie's cell was restored to its original size. Hobie walked up to his table and drank some of the undrugged water.

"Thanks to your friend, Sunna." Hobie sat to face the Vulcan.

Spock nodded and sat down as well. He reviewed his instructions from Admiral Jessup for a moment before he spoke: "The Federation has some questions, Hobie..."

"The Federation can go to hell." Hobie said around a piece of replicated Rijilian cheese. He frowned at it but the taste and texture did not improve.

"It will be helpful to you ..."

"No, it won't."

"The Federation proposes..."

"Whatever it is, I'm against it."

"HOBIE."

"What?"

"I am trying to help you."

Hobie sighed wearily: "Are you? You've come on an errand from StaFlet, in your StaFlet uniform, in a StaFlet craft, with your pretty little StaFlet Chekov, to help me. Help me what, Spock? Give FedPol enough rope to hang me? Thanks. Now that Sunna got me food and drink, I would prefer to have my privacy restored, if you don't mind. Or, if you really cared, you could send Chekov in here. Him, I could talk to all night, preferably lying down, naked."

Spock rose: "Perhaps you'll be more reasonable in a few hours."

"I doubt it, VulCheq. Oh and by the way, if you have a few spare moments in your rewarding Star Fleet lifestyle you might want to meditate on the fact the Klingons caught Maja and are taking him to the homeworld to stand trial as an outlaw and heretic. Something to think about next time your dress uniform collar is too tight and contemplation of the true sufferings of others is a balm to your own."

Spock turned away hoping Hobie would not see the distress his words caused, but Hobie saw it anyway.

/Rot in hell, SpockDeVulCheq./

Spock walked out of the room and sought out a comm unit. He asked to be put in contact with Commander Sunna and was told Mr. Sunna was in the officers' mess on deck eleven. Spock sought him there and found him watching Chekov eat and chat with some other Albright officers.

"That was fast." Sunna said as Spock sat down.

"He was not cooperative. I will try later. Carlos, I need to contact my father on Vulcan..."

"Did you come all the way out here just to use the comm unit, Spock?"

Spock and all those at the table rose to face Commodore Wolfe.

"No, ma'am. I have just learned that Hobie's brother has been arrested by the Klingons. I wish to convey this information to my father because Maja Talljet is a Federation citizen and needs to be represented to the Klingons as such."

Wolfe looked down her nose at him, quite a feat since he was taller: "Come to the bridge with me, Spock. Sunna, as well."

They rode in silence and stepped onto the Albright bridge.

Captain One turned and rose to vacate the command chair but Wolfe waved her to sit back down.

"Spock is just phoning home, Captain. Give him what he needs and put it on screen." Wolfe pushed her long brown hair off her shoulders and stared intently at the battle between the Yrvan Revolutionary Forces and their former allies, the Ciren pirates, in progress on the other side of the border. The image was being relayed by ships still on the line as the Albright and an escort were headed back into the Federation with their prisoner. The screen split and Sarek appeared on half of it.

Father and son exchanged greetings and Spock told Sarek his news.

"I am aware of this. Jir's law partner, Storen himself, brought me this news. I am making inquiries with the Klingon Embassy here but it does not look promising. They claim to have no knowledge of Maja's arrest."

"What can be done, father?"

"Nothing at this time. I understand Ling is trying to negotiate his release. For the moment, that is his best hope. Why are you on this ship, Spock?"

"I am here to assist in Hobie's interrogation."

"I see. Are you aware that Hobie's trial is to be held on Vulcan and that Storen has lodged a complaint that Hobie is being held incommunicado and without representation by Star Fleet?"

Spock felt Commodore Wolfe stiffen beside him: "No, sir, I was not."

Sarek looked around the Albright bridge and then back at Spock: "I see. I will do whatever I can for Maja. Farewell, Spock." His image was replaced by the battle.

"Thank you, Commodore. Captain." Spock nodded to them and received their nods in turn.

"How are you, Spock?" Captain One asked him.

"I am well."

"How goes it on the Enterprise?"

"Well."

"Good." Captain One, having finished what, for her, was a lengthy social conversation, turned her attention back to her command.

Wolfe had removed herself from the bridge almost before Spock had finished thanking her so Spock and Sunna rode to the security deck alone.

"Are you going to talk to him again?" Sunna asked.

"If you mean Hobie, yes, I intend to speak to him again," Spock said.

"There's talk that the Terran Ministry of Justice will try to have him hanged if he's convicted."

"I doubt that will be allowed, Carlos. I know the Vulcans would object. I'm sure he would be sentenced to the usual punishment of transportation, if he is convicted."

* * *

/Kzost says he can do nothing for you, Maja./ Ling was hidden aboard a freighter in orbit around the Klingon homeworld.

/I know. I can feel how bad he feels. Tell him I'll be okay./ Maja wished he felt so sure.

Maja's former position in the Empire had not done him much good so far. He was first beaten and then interrogated mechanically. Without his brothers he could only heal himself with the healing trance he'd learned on Vulcan and relearned from Sarek. The MageCheq left the worst of the surface bruises so the Klingons could feel a sense of accomplishment. When there were less than three interrogators present, he could telepathically lull them into a trance wherein they thought they were still torturing him. This did not work with more than two. His best strategy in that case was to dive into a healing trance and remain there for as long as possible. This actually worked because it was so boring for the audience, everybody lost interest and went away. To distract himself from the pain he could not avoid, Maja separated and classified all its aspects: pressure, burning or puncture; panic, horror, disgust singly or in some combination; crunching or plopping sound; burning flesh, blood or acid/chemical smell. The annoying part was that he was not asked any questions, leading him to believe that it was all decided and he would simply and quietly be executed one day. Maja did not allow his brothers to know what was happening to him. In fact, nothing had happened for several days and he was wondering why. He looked up as his cell door opened to admit, he assumed, another interrogator.

"Get some ice, antiseptic and bandages," Kroldt said hoarsely to his aides after a moment of staring at Maja and then stepped inside. He crossed to the plank Maja lay on and sat next to him. "I could not get here before now ..."

"Did you stop the torture?"

"I think so. I..."

"Then I'm grateful for that."

Kroldt sighed. "I sold my soul to the Hierophant Kvreda to stop it. Gozine...." The Klingon pulled Maja into his arms and rocked him.

Maja leaned against him. It was nice to be held like this even if he didn't trust Kroldt ten steps out of his sight. "Why Kvreda?"

"He's got the Regent's ear."

"Is it still Admiral KzaxreaYhet?"

"Yes. Why wouldn't it be?" Kroldt gently applied some ice to the swelling on Maja's face.

"Dunno. I thought he might have lost control of it now there isn't the combined Empire."

Kroldt leaned back and gave Maja a hard look: "The Yhets lost a little ground but they hardly noticed it. There's a rumor that General KmordriYhet pines for your middle son, with whom he fell in love." The Klingon washed the cuts and scrapes on Maja's face and moved to tend the lashes on his back. "There are two rumors about the ex-Emperor's escape. One is that you and Hobie the Pirate were involved. The other is that demons escorted the royal party to the Federation."

Maja smiled in his mind and wished he could tell Kroldt that both rumors were true.

"Your trial is tomorrow. The Hierophants Kbxidi and Kuvrinis have demanded it in the name of the Church. They say that you, as a priest, however disgraced, have a right to defend yourself in a public assembly."

"I never knew they liked me so well."

"The Church fears that if you are executed as a common criminal it will set a precedent that will eventually destroy us all."

"Then the Supreme Religious Leader should not have exiled me."

"The SRL's only comment on you is that he wished you'd died in transit. He is not your problem, Gozine. Your real and true enemy is Admiral KzaxreaYhet. He wants to make an example of you as a warning to any who would defy the new Yhet power structure."

"Let me understand this: I was exiled for disobeying you, Master, wasn't I? What have the Yhets to do with that?"

"Gozine, the Yhets do not believe demons removed MajaKhat from the Klong-Rom throne. They believe it was you and they intend to punish you for that."

"So the trial is a formality."

"Yes. You will be publicly immolated directly after the trial. I hope you have put your spiritual life in order, Gozine. I will hear your last confession if you like."

"Thank you, no, I'm quite ready to face my fate as I am."

The prison was quite old and the sounds of profound suffering drifted into Maja's cell.

"Then I shall leave you." The Hierophant rose, trying to ignore the scream of pain echoing through the halls. "God help you, GozineGhet." He and his aides made a hasty exit.

"WHY WHY WHY WHY WHY WHY" rang through the building in agony.

Maja stepped to the bars of his cell and watched the Hierophant scuttling away in fear.

Kroldt had reached the bottom tier and froze there when he heard Master Ghet, whose voice and words had made him believe there truly was a god, begin to speak: "My brothers and sisters. Here, in this prison of blood and bone, we cannot know why our bodies suffer. The infinite mind of god is not open to us on this subject.

"All we can know is that this flesh we live in is but a tiny part of what we are. That it can be destroyed but that our true being remains untouched, uncorrupted and undying. This flesh feels pain, the pain is real but soon that within you that questions your suffering, that of you that is beyond sensation, emotion and the entire physical plane, will be free of this agony. And in that freedom there is no more pain, no more fear, no more suffering, and no more death.

"There is nothing else to know except this. Know it, have faith in it and you will be victorious in it. That is all the mind of god will do for you here."

'Amen,' Kroldt thought, unfreezing and hurrying away. He did not notice the aura of peaceful courage and faith that descended on the prison and washed away the fear for awhile.

The Hierophant did, however, hear the cries of 'St. Gozine' that went up shortly after Maja stopped speaking.

* * *

Hobie successfully resisted all Spock's efforts to interrogate him. In frustration, Spock had finally sent in Chekov to try to question the pirate, but Hobie had merely romanced the blushing ensign and Spock was forced to concede defeat. He and Chekov returned to the Enterprise, were debriefed and went on with their lives.

"I'm sorry you had a bad time with Hobie but I'm glad you're back home now," McCoy said, stripping off his clothes and slipping into Spock's bed that night.

"Yes," Spock murmured, pulling the doctor close and stopping whatever he was going to say with a kiss.

Sometimes Spock just wanted silence in his lovemaking and McCoy knew him well enough to know that this was one of those times. So McCoy decided he'd best put his mouth to good use elsewhere.

The doctor kissed a trail down to Spock's flat nipples and nipped and sucked them to hardness. He ran his tongue over the Vulcan's flat hard belly, through the hair, down to his arching pale green cock. McCoy swirled his tongue around the head and clamped his lips under the helmet. He pumped the shaft a bit before taking a firm grip on the base and squeezing as hard as he could, while sucking very hard on the head. This was exhausting for the human but Spock seemed to enjoy it so. At least he was rock hard in seconds.

Spock ran his fingers through the doctor's warm brown hair and gave himself over to pleasure. He opened the link and found Kirk fantasizing about McCoy and masturbating. Spock left the link open and stroked his fingers along McCoy's temple, not melding but still conveying his heightened arousal.

McCoy smiled as best he could around Spock's cockhead; he could tell already it was going to be a good night. He worked his mouth as far down the shaft as he could and caressed the Vulcan's balls. Feeling Spock urging him up the bed, McCoy lifted his mouth and gave the head a few last loving licks before he crawled up over the supine Vulcan.

Spock kissed him deeply. Impatient for union, he lingered in the kiss nonetheless because McCoy (and Kirk) were enjoying it so much. Still kissing McCoy, Spock rolled the doctor onto his back and reached for the lubricant in the bedside table. He was pleased when McCoy spread his legs a little wider and drew up his knees. Spock quickly slipped in one, then two slick fingers. He put a generous amount of the gel on his cock and rolled the human forward. He centered his cock against McCoy's anus and paused until McCoy thrust gently up, urging Spock forward. Pressing gently in, Spock felt both humans gasp as the head slipped past the doctor's tight ring. Spock paused again to let McCoy adjust and sank a little deeper hearing the doctor sighing 'yes, yes.' It had been a while since they had done this so Spock went slow and easy. He hit bottom, gathered the doctor in his arms and kissed him. Sucking McCoy's tongue into his mouth, Spock began to slowly fuck him.

McCoy groaned in abandon beneath Spock and thrust up to meet his lover's strokes. He pulled his mouth away from Spock's so he could pant against the Vulcan's shoulder and hold on as Spock fucked him silly. Each stroke caressed the doctor's prostate and he was almost incoherent with pleasure. Nevertheless, he drew his knees up a little higher to accommodate Spock's harder thrusts.

Spock reached between them and wrapped his long warm hand around McCoy's erection. He pumped it twice before he felt it jerking beneath his hand and the doctor's ass clenching around him. The Vulcan slammed his cock into his lover and came with him. He wrapped his arms around McCoy and lay panting on top of him, his face buried in the human's neck.

"Spock," McCoy whispered after a few moments of lying together in the warm glow of their recent climax. "You're crushing me."

Spock propped himself up on his elbows and looked down at his lover. He bent his neck to brush his lips over the doctor's. "My apologies," he murmured, gently pulled out and rolled onto his back.

McCoy reached for the towel Spock meticulously kept under the pillow. "That was nice, Spock." He felt rather lame saying it but needed to say something.

Spock nodded and took the towel from him. "Yes. It's been a difficult time for me, Leonard. I have been neglecting you. I hope it will be different from now on."

McCoy nodded. "Yes. For as long as we have left."

Spock rolled onto his side and looked at the human. "What do you mean?"

"Spock, this mission is up in less than six months. Haven't you thought about what and where the next assignment is?"

"No. Have you?"

"Yes. I'm assigned to the Institute at Star Fleet headquarters for at least a year to write up and present my research."

Spock was silent.

"What are your plans, Spock?"

"I imagine they will be like yours - wherever Star Fleet assigns me."

"I requested this."

Spock lowered his eyes. "You have made plans without consulting me."

"Yes. I wasn't aware I needed to consult you." McCoy was testy in his surprise.

"Don't you wish to stay with me, Leonard?"

"Well, yes, if it's in our best interests, Spock, yes, I do." McCoy reached out to stroke Spock's shoulder. "But you can't deny that the Institute is the best possible place for me after this mission. As a scientist, I think it must be for you as well."

"I had thought there would be another five year mission," Spock said. "With you and Jim."

"He says there's nothing like that in the works." McCoy paused to see if Spock had anything to say to that. "I imagine you'll go to Vulcan before your next assignment," he said leadingly into the silence.

"Yes." Spock rolled over and went to sleep. McCoy recognized this as one of Spock's methods for closing a conversation he was no longer interested in.

'Well, I guess I'll go sleep at home tonight,' the doctor thought as he dressed and left Spock's quarters. He wondered, as he undressed and got into his own bed, if Spock really intended to break the bond with Jim. He was, however, too relaxed and happy to nag Spock about it tonight. Maybe tomorrow if he had time.

* * *

Maja's trial was to be broadcast galaxy-wide. To the surprise of the Church, Maja was to be tried for sabotage. He was accused of kidnapping Maja I and thereby destroying the combined Klingon and Romulan Empire. There was no proof; proof was a mere bagatelle in this show trial. The Yhet's plans for galactic domination were up in smoke and they wanted somebody to pay for it. That person happened to be Maja Talljet.

The seven Hierophants were horrified. They had hoped to find a way to convince the Yhets to return Master Ghet to their jurisdiction where they could shut him up in a monastery for the rest of his life. They were distressed that a Klingon Master could be destroyed by forces outside the most Holy Klingon Church. They rightly saw it as a slippery slope. Even the Supreme Religious Leader expressed some concern about this turn of events.

The trial was to be held in the Imperial assembly hall, which held three thousand and was in the center of the capital city. Maja had spent the previous evening healing his body so that he not only looked good, he felt good, when he was led in chains to the raised central platform. The Hierophants, Meta-Primates and various priests were seated on a raised platform along one wall. The heads of the various powerful clans were seated opposite them. General KmordriYhet was among them. He had been in disgrace for losing the Klong-Rom emperor but was now obviously forgiven. Below Maja a throng of Klingons milled around him, staring silently, hurling abuse at him or arguing loudly amongst themselves. The doors of the hall were open and a crowd stretched away from them on all sides. It was as if the entire city had come to a halt for this one event. In many ways it had. Maja could see the execution stand in the distance - a stake with faggots piled around it. The arguing became louder and the occasional phrase was raised above the din.

"....HAS STRUCK DOWN THE CULMINATION OF CENTURIES OF KLINGON ROMULAN ASSOCIATION ...."

".... DESTROYER OF THE FUTURE...."

"....THIEF...."

"....SABOTEUR...."

'This is my trial.' Maja thought coolly, wondering when the crowd was going to tear him to pieces. 'Perhaps Gvo and Yrit are right. This bag of blood and shit we live in isn't that important. Perhaps this is the day to let go of it.' He looked down into Kzost's sad eyes. He saw a nervous Khatanya a little behind him and to the left. 'Except for all the love in this plane that makes me want to stay. Oh well. Dearest god, please help me now. Please don't let this be the last of me.' He hadn't prayed like that since he was a child but it felt right.

".....HERETIC....."

Maja could feel the ugliness in the crowd building. He drew a breath and sent his gentle voice over the din: "Klingons...."

"DON'T LISTEN TO HIM!"

"Klingons...."

"...NOTHING BUT LIES...."

"Klingons...."

"SILENCE! LET HIM SPEAK."

"Klingons."

The crowd quieted.

"I and my fate are before you. I have no fear of you. I believe you will act as your Klingon honor directs you. I accept all this as the mind of god's unknowable plan for me in this life and its conclusion.

"I do not claim to know the will of the mind of god. I merely hope to interpret what is revealed to me.

"We cannot argue with the reality before us. The combined empire has failed. We must accept that what does not succeed in this life was never meant to be in the first place. We may fight god, we have that ability, but we can never win. Ultimately, we all realize that nothing in this reality occurs without the consent of the universe. No, we do not, we cannot understand it now, perhaps never, but we are in it and we must be at peace with it or perish."

"....LIAR...."

"....PROPHET...."

".....HELLHOUND...."

".....SAINT....."

"Klingons."

The crowd quieted.

"What has changed? Nothing. The natural order has been restored. Klingons were never meant to align themselves in this manner with the Roms. It is unnatural for you to share power with such creatures. See how quickly they have turned on you? And why? Because the Emperor had vanished? No! Because they cannot accept that Klingons are their rightful masters. They would not and will not accept the Klingon Emperor as the sole ruler of both Empires. And why not? Because they seek to dominate the entire galaxy, including KLINGON."

Maja let the crowd get worked up about this. He glanced down and saw Kzost suppressing a smile.

"Why else was the Emperor of the combined Klong-Rom Empire seated on Romulus if not to destroy Klingonia?"

".....LIAR...."

"Could there therefore be a better outcome than for the combined empire to fail? Return to the void, as it should?"

".....PROPHET....."

"Is this therefore not the will of the infinite mind of god? Is this not that mind and will protecting the great and glorious Klingon Empire?" Maja noticed KmordriYhet speaking intently to his escort.

"......HAIL MASTER GHET....."

"That god's mercy, protection and power surrounds the Klingon Empire as is only RIGHT AND CORRECT IN THIS INFINITE CREATION...."

"......HAIL GOZINE THE CONFESSOR...."

"HAS NOT THE TRUE BALANCE OF THE UNIVERSE BEEN RESTORED?" Maja roared over the now supportive din.

".....SAINT GOZINE...."

"..... SAINT GOZINE HAS RETURNED TO SAVE US ....."

Everyone was on their feet, arguing, shouting, someone started singing a hymn to St. Gozine that was picked up by the throng outside.

Maja was grabbed from behind by strong arms. He looked over his shoulder and saw the Yhets' crest on the doublets. He jerked away and flung himself into the crowd, which, singing their new anthem, bore him out of the assembly hall on their shoulders. He looked around him and saw Kzost, Khatanya, most of the Haats, all of the Hierophants and Meta-primates dancing and singing in the throng bearing him away. Maja could hardly hear for the roar and the song that accompanied his procession to the cathedral, where he was worshipped as a reincarnation of St. Gozine who restored St. General KhanitIzd to life after he was felled by a barbarian arrow so he could repel the invading barbarian tribes and thus save Klingon civilization.

Were these not very similar circumstances?

Hallelujah and Amen.

* * *

"St. Gozine. I knew when I gave you that name something good would come of it." Kzost murmured into Maja's hair. The old Klingon had not let go of his little half Mage since said half Mage had been excused from being worshipped.

"Really? Wasn't there a sociopath who murdered his entire neighborhood and burned acres of crops once named Gozine?"

"Well, yes..."

"What's in a name, Klingon? Nothing." Maja sighed. "I was lucky. I was very lucky."

"Maja, I could do nothing ..."

"But you were going to try, weren't you? At least kill me before they burned me if you and Khatanya couldn't get me away."

"How d'ya know that, half Mage?"

* * *

Through the good efforts of St. Gozine and the grace of god, a new Emperor, one more agreeable to both Haats and Yhets, was found and was confessed by St. Gozine himself directly after the coronation.

Immediately after which Maja and Ling Talljet hightailed it to the Erteg system in what was left of the Tossarian Autonomous zone to see if anything could be salvaged there.

The Hierophant Kroldt, Generals KmordriYhet and KnvraHaat negotiated an acceptable peace with the Romulan empire, which was now ruled by the Emperor Adrajesi.

Except for Maja's torturers, whom Maja ordered rounded up and slowly burned alive from the feet upwards in his presence, life returned to normal in both empires. More or less.

* * *

"Well done, Maja!" Was all SaBrzia had to say when the events of St. Gozine's trial were relayed to him.

"Indeed," SiJidi agreed. "I wonder if he will come here to collect the Commune? I understand that now they've been restored to their former position in the Empire, they can return there."

"I rather hope they finish refurbishing the house before they go." SaBrzia referred to the Commune's latest project: restoring the decrepit Sa mansion to its former glory.

Qhoshi had settled her charges as best she could. Jir's theater company was in a large house where they could make lots of noise and not annoy very many Vulcans. Hobie's shipbuilders were in a huge warehouse complex belonging to Talljet Inc. in the Port of Vulcan. Armed with a letter from Ling in hand, Qhoshi had gone to the Sa mansion and been completely stumped as to how to get inside. The front door of the mansion had been overgrown with thorny vines for as long as most Vulcans could remember. Everyone used the back gate and kitchen door to enter and exit, but one had to know this. Qhoshi, who'd never been on Vulcan in her life, of course didn't know this and so stood puzzling in the street for some time before an upper storey window opened.

"Are you lost, woman?" an elderly Vulcan man asked her.

"No, sir, I want to come in. I work for Ling Talljet. He sent me." Qhoshi scanned him but only got her scan bounced back off his shields.

Another window opened and another elderly Vulcan looked out at her.

"I say, aren't you Qhoshi? One of Ling's 'girls'?" The Vulcan studied her. "You vid-called here one day for him and I answered. Do you remember."

Qhoshi didn't but said she did: "Yes! Of course. But I've forgotten your name. My shocking memory."

"Oh, not so shocking since we were never introduced." The Vulcan leaned out the window and gestured to the door set inconspicuously in the wall. "Go in there and come round through the garden. We'll let you in."

Qhoshi heaved a small sigh of relief and stepped through the gate into an overgrown jungle. The Sas kept a narrow path to the back door cleared but the rest was impassable. Few beings were old enough to remember when it had been a very lovely garden.

Qhoshi followed the path around the side of the house and looked through a window into a deserted kitchen. She stood uncertainly by the door, waiting, as good manners dictated, to be asked in. She waited. She waited some more.

"Hello...?" the Yzreinaina called. No answer. Putting aside her manners she pushed the door open and stepped inside. No one in the kitchen. Feeling like a sneak thief, she crossed it and peeked into the next room. It was empty. Not quite empty; in the shadows of an alcove, Qhoshi could see another elderly Vulcan dozing by what must be, based on its position, the overgrown front door. Qhoshi, feeling nervous, an extremely unusual state for her, stepped into the room and looked around.

It was a good sized room. Stone floors and walls, a dark room where the outside light seemed to give up on it only a few feet from the windows, also overgrown with thorny vines. There were some lamps lit even though it was a typical blinding Shirkar midday. The furniture was an overstuffed variety and was scattered around the room in a nonsensical maze. Since it was impossible to cross in a straight line, Qhoshi found herself tripping over cushions, readers, musical instruments, plates, cups and bunched up rugs as she wended her way to the dozing old male.

'I feel I've entered another reality or something,' she thought. "Excuse me, sir," she said briskly.

"AHHHHHH!" The elderly Vulcan leapt to his feet.

Qhoshi, startled, tripped over a snarled up rug and landed on her back where she lay, looking up at the old man.

"Who are you?" he demanded, looming over her.

"I'm Qhoshi. I work for Ling, Ling Talljet...."

"Yes, yes yes. I know Ling - know him well." He looked up at the other old man who joined him.

"Who is this girl?"

"Says she's Qhoshi."

"Oh." And he stepped around her and walked away.

"I....." Qhoshi began.

"What goes on down here? I thought I heard a female." Another elderly Vulcan joined them.

"Yes, I too, thought I heard a female. Speaking Standard with a non Federation accent." A third male joined the group standing over Qhoshi.

"Sriri, I refuse to believe you can recognize every accent in the Federation."

"I can; I'll prove it. Girl, where are you from?"

"Yzreinaia."

"Is it in the Federation?"

"No."

"There!"

"Chance, that's all. There are more planets outside the Federation than in it."

"Nonsense."

"Excuse me, but...."

"What other languages do you speak, woman?"

"Ahm, Klingonese...."

"Good, very good."

"Deltan...."

"Lovely language."

"Rather useless, I think. Yes, what else?"

"Yzreinian...."

"A Rom based dialect."

"No, it's not," Qhoshi defended her mother tongue. "Cmovian..."

"What is that?"

"It's hard to describe...."

"Try."

"It's a telepathic language. More based on a rhythmic sequence drone sound than the psycho associations of word symbols."

"Fascinating."

"Remarkable."

"Is it similar to the Magidrian Patois?"

"No, it is not."

There was a silence as the old men waited for the supine woman to do what Patois speakers simply don't do: reveal something about the language to non Patois speakers.

"I see. Therefore you must speak the Patois if you can compare it to Cmovian. Correct?"

"Yes." Qhoshi had by this time decided to lie there as long a necessary.

"Any other languages?"

"Ocacatarian..."

"Unusual."

"... and a few dialects as well as a Rom Creole they speak out Xochian way."

"Is that all?"

"It's all I've ever needed."

"Then you've come to the right place."

"For what, sir?"

"To study the languages you lack."

"But I haven't come to study..."

"No? Why then are you here?"

Qhoshi drew a patient breath: "I work for Ling Talljet..."

"Oh? Are you one of his 'girls'?"

"Yes, and ....."

"We've never had one of those here before."

"I see, and...."

"Someone should let SaBrzia know one of Ling's 'girls' is here." No one, however, moved.

"That's whom I need to see..."

"SaBrzia? Why ever?"

"Ling sent me to...."

"Why is this lady lying on our floor, cousins?" asked a fourth elderly Vulcan just arriving on the scene.

"I found her this way."

"She tripped."

"Oh, there you are Qhoshi!" The Vulcan that had directed her to the garden door joined them. "Sorry to keep you waiting. I just wanted to finish the chapter before I came down. You know how an unfinished chapter haunts you. Well! Would you like to stand?" He offered her a hand up.

"Yes, thanks," she said, rising. "Look, Mr.... ah ...sir... I..."

"Please call me SaCriz."

"Mr. SaCriz...."

"No, no. Just SaCriz."

"Sir, I have come ...."

"And this is Sriri, SoLri, SerNera, and our doorkeeper, Svurek."

"Very nice to meet you all." Qhoshi waited politely to see if she would now be allowed to finish her message. "Ling sent me to ask if the Gozshedrefreingin Commune and his 'house' could stay here until things quiet down in non-aligned space and we can go home again?" came out in a rush.

"Hmmm." SaCriz studied her for a moment. "Wait here while I ask SaBrzia." He disappeared up a wide, cluttered staircase.

"If the Gozshedrefreingin Commune comes here, will Maja come home?" Sriri asked her.

"I'm sorry, I don't know what Mr. Talljet's plans are at this time." Qhoshi didn't want to discuss the Talljet's losing battles with their former territories. "I'm only responsible for settling the Talljet dependents in safety."

"How many in the Commune?" SoLri asked.

"Thirty-six."

"That's a lot," Svurek said, looking around the cramped room.

"We'll have to move a few things around," SerNera said, also eyeing the room.

"Not if they clean out the back of the house, no, not really." Sriri opined. "We've plenty of room here, we just haven't been in it for over a hundred Standard years."

"Why not?" Qhoshi asked.

"There are only nine of us left, ten if you count the SaBrzia. We don't need and can't maintain the entire house." He waved vaguely toward the debris strewn staircase.

Qhoshi took another look around her. In her initial consternation, she'd not really noticed much about the house. From the outside, it seemed to end in the vine covered hill behind it. Hard to tell from the overgrown garden. Looking around her, Qhoshi now realized the house was the hill and as she recalled, it was a very very big hill. She had also noticed that, unlike most houses in Shirkar, which were crammed together and shared garden walls, this one was on the outskirts of the center in a quasi industrial area with many decaying and abandoned buildings scattered in open fields. This seemed an odd thing for a city like Shirkar but Qhoshi could not know that the fashionable part of the city had migrated east a thousand years previously to intentionally leave the old families stranded in the west. What Qhoshi mistook for abandoned industrial buildings were actually the decaying fortress mansions of the Ser, Si, Su and So families, which, like the Sas, were left to the older generation to ramble in while the younger members made their way in modern Vulcan. Oddly, even the younger members migrated back to the old homes when they reached a certain age, as if drawn by history. Legend had it that the original cave and spring was beneath each house, that was how long the old families had held their turf. And since the advent of the Surakian dictatorship after the war of logical aggression, it was all the turf they had left.

But Qhoshi didn't know this and wouldn't know it until Ling told her much later.

She turned to see SaCriz coming down the stairs toward her, his face unreadable.

"He said yes."

* * *

'Oh, my Maja!' Sarek had thought, steepling his fingers over his chest in satisfaction. 'How well you know your Klingons.'

* * *

Qhoshi had indeed settled the Gozshedrefreingin Commune, Hobie's children, Jir's children and her own colleagues into the old Sa mansion. Masters Whilla, Pzchaz and Khat immediately put the Commune to work clearing and cleaning the back part of the house. To alleviate their boredom, Qhoshi's colleagues helped out. Farro, who loved to garden, was put in charge of a band of vulcanoids to clean up the garden. It was Farro's kind of project - monumental and nearly hopeless.

Getting Malira on the planet had been more interesting. Ultimately they settled on making her a Nzrealian banker seeking development funding for infrastructure in the Tasilinian Association, a newer member of the Federation, for a consortium of unspecified business people. Malira played her part by keeping her mouth shut and everything seemed to be working out fairly well. She'd even gone brunette to be less conspicuous.

None of the Vulcans recognized Lady Amanda among the Commune. The old men were not interested in society and would not have known who the Lady Amanda was had not T'Pau arrived one day to speak to her.

"T'Pau! You're here, what a surprise. How'd you get in here?" SiRond went on at her. They had known each other in their youth.

"The kitchen garden, as usual." T'Pau dispensed with the traditional Vulcan greeting as the old families did not use it. They avoided anything developed by the followers of Surak or his descendants. They avoided his descendants unless they could not avoid them, like now. T'Pau knew this and tried to make her entry as gentle as possible. "I've come to speak to Lady Amanda."

"And who is she?"

T'Pau thought about this. Technically Lady Amanda was no longer part of the clan T'Pau but the old woman was not ready to forget her. "I understand she is with the Gozshedrefreingin Commune."

"Oh. They're all in the back, T'Pau. Can you find your way back there?"

"Back where, SiRond?"

"In or near the ballroom."

"Yes. I remember the way." She nodded to the old man and turned to go.

"Don't trip on anything, T'Pau." SiRond warned vaguely.

"I shall endeavor not to, SiRond."

T'Pau progressed her way into the house and met Amanda, brushing the dust out of some draperies, in one of the parlors half way to the back entrance of the ballroom. The front entrance had been impassable for longer than Sarek had been alive.

"Live long and prosper, Amanda."

"Peace and long life, T'Pau." Amanda waited for the older woman to open the conversation as was the custom in clan T'Pau.

"Are you well?"

"Yes. Will you sit down? I'll bring some tea." Amanda brushed off her hands and went in search of clean cups and fresh tea.

T'Pau looked around her. She hadn't been in this house since she was a little girl and her great-grandfather had come here to visit SaKoza the Beautiful. Ostensibly, T'Pau's great-grandfather visited SaKoza, who was fluent in old Vulcan, to learn that language from him. The reality was a little more complex. Except for now, with the Talljet money, and a small bump of prosperity a thousand years after the civil war, when they had sold the water rights and western end of Shirkar to the city, the Sa fortunes had been in decline. It was therefore the Sa's practice to more or less sell whatever talent and beauty their children possessed to the highest bidder. This was, in fact, a very subtle arrangement. For example, T'Pau's great-grandfather was once informed that SaKoza would be too busy to see him because he was at work on a translation that would be sold to pay off a lien on the country estate. This lien was immediately paid by T'Pau's great-grandfather and his thrice weekly visits to SaKoza resumed. Various wealthy clans had paid for the education of entire Sa generations. And so on. Usually the level of generosity extended to clothing, furniture, tasteful jewels and paying off the various accumulated debts the ancient threadbare clan ran up. SaKoza was hardly exploited. He'd been raised to respect his intelligence first and then his beauty and to make good use of both. T'Pau's great-grandfather had been raised to respect intelligence and beauty and further, to support it in all ways if necessary. Besides, what else was money for if not to propagate such worthy causes? It was unfortunate that he was the last of the House of Surak to act on these lofty ideals. The younger members, most notably T'Pau's aunt when she became matriarch, had a more hardheaded and practical approach to the arts and finance. Therefore the contact between the clans was discouraged after T'Pau's great-grandfather died. SaKoza taught the ancient language to a generation of Vulcans and later went off to study the pre-conquest architecture of the Ossipira tribe in the Porglosta system. Many years later T'Pau heard that he died peacefully in his sleep there. She remembered seeing a portrait of SaKoza somewhere in the house and wondered if it was still here. She would have liked to compare Hobie to the portrait of SaKoza. If memory served her, SaKoza was the greater beauty, but she had been a child last time she'd seen SaKoza and some of her ideas had changed since then.

"I was told you were here." Smvit broke into the old woman's reverie. "It's been a long time, T'Pau."

"Indeed, Smvit." She looked at her old playmate. They had run up and down these halls while her great-grandfather had his Old Vulcan lesson. "Are you well?"

"Yes, quite. You?"

"Yes."

"What brings you to us again?"

"The Lady Amanda."

"Who?"

"A member of my family."

"Oh. What's she doing here? Officially, we avoid your family because of Spock's mistreatment of Maja. Unofficially, if Maja was stupid enough to become entangled with a creature like Spock, he got whatever suffering he deserved and it's nothing to do with any of us."

T'Pau sighed in her mind. Nothing was ever simple, straightforward or black and white with the old families, especially the Sas. She briefly considered not telling Smvit that Amanda was Spock's mother but decided that it would be worse if he found out another way.

"In that case she should slap your face, old woman."

"Why, old man?"

"For trying to kill her son."

"'A creature like Spock'? I thought you held him in low esteem."

"I do, both he and Maja were, I assume still are, idiots. However, we Vulcans gave up the concept of living sacrifice to abstract concepts long before that parvenu Surak rolled into our midst."

"Clarify."

"Gladly. You were willing to let Spock die or let him kill that stupid Terran and then die merely to uphold the barbaric bonding practice you nouveau families enjoy so much."

"The bonding is a necessary part of the Surakian code."

"If you follow fads, yes."

"A FAD?"

"Yes, T'Pau, old girl, a fad. Your bonding, your truncated names, your cult of logic, your high council, your streamlined language, your obsession with sex, and your gauche little houses all shoved together in the west are a fad. It's impossible to take you new Vulcans seriously since StiSurak lopped the Sti off his name and destroyed his ancient clan. You can't just cut the past off like that. It's unnatural." Smvit folded his hands serenely.

This was an old argument and one T'Pau had with every member of the old families whenever she found herself trapped with them. There was only one way out - it was brutal, effective and necessary: "You old families do realize that you, in fact, lost the Vulcan civil war, do you not?"

"That, of course, was the official outcome. However, considering the quality of life we old families continue to enjoy, I would not be so sure we were entirely the losers of that conflict."

T'Pau looked carefully around the decaying room: "Indeed," she said coldly.

"I've brought the tea," Amanda, who'd never heard T'Pau speak to anyone like that in her life, said nervously from the door.

"So you have, girl," Smvit said pleasantly, taking the tray from her and setting it on the table. "I didn't know you were Spock's mama," he said waving the women to chairs and pouring for them.

"Oh, yes. You remember him here?"

"Oh, yes. Vividly."

T'Pau arched an eyebrow but remained silent.

"I understand Jir and Hobie will be arriving in a few days," she said to Amanda after a few sips of tea. "Storen, Jir's law partner, has served the Vulcan Interplanetary Ministry with a subpoena for classified documents regarding Sarek's negotiations in the Miska system. Apparently Jir intends to base part of his defense on the idea that Hobie was acting as Sarek's spy in non-aligned space."

"Is that impossible, T'Pau?" Smvit asked.

"No. But I find it distasteful and incredible that Sarek could require such actions as those of which Hobie is suspected. It will also be very difficult for the Vulcan Interplanetary Ministry to prove that it was not running Hobie as a spy through Sarek."

"Yes, indeed," Smvit said serenely. "Storen himself was here yesterday to warn us that there might be some unpleasantness brought up in the trial but he did not tell us what. How interesting that you should fill us in."

"I merely wish to inform Amanda of the possibility of, as you say, unpleasantness." T'Pau blandly informed him. "Not only for Sarek but also for Spock."

"How for Spock?" Amanda asked.

"The defense will try to prove that Hobie, accompanied by Maja, left Vulcan to spy for Sarek. The prosecution, however, will try to prove that Maja, accompanied by Hobie, left Vulcan because of Spock, thus disproving the spy defense. I do not know what measures will be taken to ascertain the latter case."

"I had hoped all the uproar about that was over and done with," Amanda said grimly. "I suppose it will all be dragged out again. Poor Maja."

"Yes, poor Maja," Smvit commiserated. "It must be dreadful to be the most powerful being in the Klingon Empire and have your youthful indiscretions blasted all over the Federation. Especially if they were as ridiculous as forming an intense but misguided attachment to Spock cha'Sarek."

"Yes, misguided." Amanda decided to ignore most of the insult to her son. "Poor Maja could certainly have benefited from closer supervision than he received in his youth."

"Yes, poor Maja," Smvit said coolly. "Bad luck he wound up in the same class as Spock."

"I understood poor Maja to be the aggressor in that relationship." Amanda mentally bared her teeth at him.

"And I understood that, yes, poor Maja pursued, however, Spock did not flee very quickly or efficiently." Smvit cursed mentally to find himself defending that idiotic Maja Talljet.

"But can you really blame Spock?" SuLorma, Maja's old art teacher, stood in the doorway. "After all, Maja is so talented and still has those big brown eyes and that lovely voice. Did you see the vid of his trial? A strange but well organized argument he presented to the Klingons, and convincingly, too. He was magnificent."

"Indeed he was, SuLorma." T'Pau, rose in the pause SuLorma's timely distraction afforded her. "I will leave you now. Do not fail to call on me for anything, Amanda." She turned to Smvit and raised her split fingers: "Live long and prosper, Smvit of Vulcan."

"Good-bye, T'Pau," he snapped. "You do know your way out, don't you? If not, it's this way." He strode from the room ahead of her, robes flying.

SuLorma and Amanda exchanged glances and then introduced themselves.

"I've come to meet the Commune and offer them any assistance I can." SuLorma said.

"They will be grateful," Amanda told him. "The painters are trying to understand the media of the murals in the ballroom so they can restore them. Perhaps you know; come, I'll show you."

* * *

"This is a complete waste of time and probably suicidal," Maja harumphed at Ling from the bridge of the Tien. "I say we call it a day and get the fuck out of here for a while." They were waist deep in conflict in the Ertig system.

"I think you're overreacting, Maja." Ling was ever the optimist. Also, his ship, the Zoltir, had suffered less in the recent skirmish. "We just have to be more careful about the kind of ambushes we sail into. You know, expect the unexpected more somehow."

Maja and Neria-Tza exchanged looks. They had certainly not expected to be bushwhacked by Lashodrian pirates.

"Look, Ling, here's my thinking and I think Hobie would agree with me." Maja shot Qwuushi a hopeful look. "Let's leave, because when we do, these various groups united against us will fall into chaos, fight among themselves and, when they are exhausted, we can swoop back in and crush them like bugs."

Ling thought about this for a moment. "Well, all right. If you really think Hobie would approve."

"HE'LL LOVE IT. LET'S GO."

/I love it. Go. Go now./

"To Vulcan."

"Aye, Noli, to Vulcan."

* * *

"Lady T'Pnov, Sjrika and Lord Suqiet," Storen said, seated in Jir's Talljet and Storen office in downtown Shirkar. He looked over his tea cup at his law partner sprawled before him. "Were the best we could do as far as judges."

"Who'd their ancestors fight with in the War of Logical Aggression?" Jir, lounging in a loin cloth (his usual office attire), asked from his bed. He was the only attorney in Shirkar, possibly Vulcan, who conducted his legal practice from a huge, ornate, canopy bed behind his huge, cluttered, height-adjustable, hydraulic antique desk. Jir claimed his office was purely functional, that when he was working on a big case he didn't always have time to go home and sleep there. No one argued this. In fact, having seen his elder brother installed in the maximum security cell block of the Shirkar jailhouse, Jir had not gone home, but come straight to his office to confer with Storen.

"Surak, of course. They wouldn't be in the dominant social group if not." Storen's ancestors had fought with Surak but he knew a winner when he saw one and long ago hitched his wagon to Jir's star. A wise choice: everyone connected with the Talljets got rich and powerful. Storen was no exception. "A rather strange question, Jir, why do you ask it?"

"I'm trying to reacclimatize to Vulcan society," Jir said vaguely. "I've been on holiday fighting wars and arguing with Hobie over his defense. He should have gone to law school, not I. But now, I've got to drop the comedy and get serious since I'm back in the jungle of Shirkar."

"An excellent idea, Jir. You must realize this is not going to be simple."

"No doubt. Who's against us?"

Storen consulted his yellow data padd, more for form than to jog his immense memory. "Robert Lapham, Lise Charbon and Nicholas Sarfati. All Terrans, all hold Terra licenses. Like you, none have ever set foot in a Vulcan courtroom."

"FMOJ (Federation Ministry of Justice) is going to prosecute a major trial in a Vulcan court without a Vulcan on the team? Are they mad?"

"These are also all Star Fleet attorneys. Commander Lapham, Commander Charbon and Lieutenant Sarfati graduated from the Star Fleet officer course with honors after they completed their legal training."

"And Star Fleet in the middle of this, too."

"What do you mean?"

"Oh, just that StaFlet has got it in for us poor Talljets these days."

"Jir, let's remember that Hobie is still a Federation citizen, accused of piracy under Federation law. Star Fleet's interest might simply be that Star Fleet is the best agency to evaluate and prosecute crimes in deep space."

"Yessss. All right. No way around them anyway; they are still Federation attorneys on a Federation case. Oh well." Jir made a few notes on his yellow data padd. "I think I met Lapham once at the Nboria 12 war crimes trials. He's really smart but not terribly attractive. Did the firm find anything interesting about him?"

"He's fifty standard years. His wife is an electron wave engineer, they have three children in college. No obvious legal or financial scandals. Mother and father are dead, his father was a Terra based Star Fleet administrator for his entire career - nothing outstandingly good or bad there."

Jir hit the comm line on his bed: "Sobora, dig up the most recent pleadings, briefs or whatnot submitted to Federation courts by Robert Lapham. Particularly those with any connection to space law, piracy and/or civil rights. Don’t go back more than two years. Thanks." He lay back: "And Commander Charbon?"

"Can trace her family for a thousand years. There has been at least one Charbon in the military and judicial fields since then. Commander Charbon is also fifty, and as experienced as Lapham. Apparently she and Lapham flipped a coin to determine who would be the lead attorney in the group."

"Gamblers," Jir said approvingly.

"Charbon's specialty is prosecuting crimes in space - not piracy, more along commercial espionage and sabotage." Storen waited for Jir to comment and continued when he did not. "She is married to a criminal psychologist, they have three children in secondary school. Her father was philologist at the European Institute, her mother, who lives with her, is an architect. No obvious legal or financial scandals in the family over the past fifty years that we could find. Charbon writes books about Federation commercial law and social justice. I've put one in your mail, I think you will find it fascinating."

"How so?"

"She believes in the equitable distribution of property, including state resources such as education and housing within the Federation."

"The Federation seems fairly well distributed to me, Storen. What's her problem?"

"She feels power in the Federation is being passed from hand to hand instead of reflecting the will of the peoples."

"Well, that's interesting. I look forward to reading her book. Odd she's in Star Fleet where power really is passed from hand to hand."

"She wants some power, that's where to get it on Terra these days."

"True. And Lieutenant Sarfati? What is he? The gofer?"

"Lieutenant Sarfati was on active duty for eight years on the border of non-aligned space. Star Fleet has recalled him to work specifically on Hobie's prosecution. He prosecuted piracy cases on the Federation's outpost on Vririsia. He secured the conviction of Captain Havra."

"Oh shit." Even Jir had been impressed that someone had finally put Havra the Pirate away but hadn't been interested in who it was at the time. He was busy with the Molgifinchian Emperor. Jir leaned into his intercom: "Sobora, please get me any and every court document that has ever had the name Nicholas Sarfati on it. Thanks." Jir watched Storen drink tea for a few moments. "Okay, back to the judges: tell me about the female first: Lady T'Pnov."

Storen consulted his yellow data padd again. "Born and raised in Sakchritar, went to law school at the Sakchritar Institute of Jurisprudence, holds an additional doctorate in Federation history, wrote her dissertation on Terran legal history prior to their Eugenics wars..."

"Terranophile?"

"Hardly. Her dissertation was on the development of a civil society without across the board civil rights. Extremely interesting study of Terran irrationality, especially paranoia and xenophobia."

"Does the other side know that?"

"I think not. But it does not matter. T'Pnov has a good history of deciding cases solely on the evidence or lack of it."

"Well, of course; she's a Vulcan. And Sjrika?"

"Graduated first from our law school a hundred years before we were born. Grew up here in Shirkar. Has usually sat on criminal trials of offworlders. Has been somewhat lenient with those who violated Vulcan or Federation law through ignorance. Has been fierce with those who do so knowingly. Knows nothing of pirates and cares less. He said that a Federation citizen is responsible for his actions under the laws of the Federation no matter what their profession."

Jir laughed. "That could go with us or against us. And old Lord Suqiet? I haven't seen him in years."

"He is the same, Jir."

"Still meaner than a snake?" Jir interrupted.

"As I said, he is the same. His last trial was on Nasria 6 for the USS Odessa mutiny."

"A not guilty verdict. The captain was proved incapacitated and the crew was not held responsible for the actions of the first mate and his accomplices. I remember; bravo the defense. Well done." Jir looked at his partner. "You did stridently object to this Judge, didn't you?"

"Of course. He taught us at the Legal Institute. He fought you every step of the way to having your and your brother's dangerous alien restrictions lessened. He is not a friend of the old families. It was to no avail. He is the most qualified of the three to judge what is or is not a crime in deep space."

"True. Let us hope he will be a very Vulcan judge and continue to decide his cases solely on the evidence or lack of it."

"Hobie is arraigned tomorrow morning. If we have nothing further to discuss, I will see you then."

"No, nothing further. I'll just lie here and read for a while." He looked down at his viewer log, filling with the documents the swift and efficient Sobora had called up.

"Will you not stop to see the Sas?"

"Not just yet. I'm trying to conserve my strength. By the way, are the Terrans still asking for a capital trial?"

"Yes."

"Interesting." Jir stretched invitingly. "Until tomorrow, Storen?"

* * *

"I shall miss you, Spock." Kirk, in his quarters, moved his remaining bishop. "Check."

Spock nodded and moved out of check. Not for long, Kirk was in good form that evening and had him in three more moves.

Spock had been ordered by Admiral Jessup to take an extended leave and go to Vulcan to keep an eye on the Talljets. Admiral Jessup had learned that Maja and Ling were bound for Vulcan from T'Pau, who heard it from Amanda, who'd heard it from the Commune, who'd heard it from Qhoshi, who'd heard it from Ling himself. The admiral had been annoyed that he had to rely on family gossip instead of Star Fleet intelligence to keep track of these scoundrels but there it was and no way around it. In a few hours Spock was to take a shuttlecraft, rendezvous with the USS Tesslia en route to Vulcan and finish the journey with that ship. He would still arrive a week or so after Maja, who would arrive there in eight hours. Spock had already made his farewells to McCoy and now hoped to make the most of these last few hours with Jim.

"Are you staying?" Kirk looked over the chessboard with a come hither hazel glow in his eyes.

"Yes." Spock rose and loomed over his captain. He tilted Kirk's head back and, keeping a firm hold on his chin, lightly brushed his lips over the human's.

Kirk would have liked to rise up and claim the Vulcan's mouth, or at minimum, deepen the kiss, but he was efficiently pinned. He contented himself with running his hands over Spock's chest and belly.

It was enough provocation for the Vulcan. Spock's hand moved from the human's chin to his bicep and pulled him to standing. Wrapping his long arms around his lover, he devoured him.

Kirk slid his fingers beneath the tunic and T-shirt to caress the soft overheated flesh.

Burying his face in Kirk's neck, the Vulcan shuddered with pleasure at the cool fingertips teasing up and down his back. He guided the human to the bed and pulled off the gold shirt and black T. Spock stepped back to neatly fold these garments and Kirk, impatient for more contact, quickly finished undressing and slid into his own bed. Spock looked down at the covers Kirk twitched back invitingly, quickly dispensed with his own clothes and joined the human in bed.

Spock ran his warm hands possessively over Kirk's back and shoulders, pressing his heated body the length of his captain. He pressed his lips to Kirk's neck, licking and caressing, over the round ear, back down to Kirk's shoulder. Kirk moved Spock into a long, tender kiss, running his fingers through the silky onyx hair. Spock's tongue found his, which pressed back, dominating and surrendering; pursued and pursuing.

Kirk let his hand wander down to caress Spock's erection, still impressed by the heat and size of it. He ran his fingers over the head, stroking along the ridges, stroking down and drawing the testicles into his hand, weighing them, squeezing gently. Spock sighed and drew back to gaze at Kirk. They regarded each other with naked desire and the anticipation of sensual pleasure.

Spock rolled on his back, pulling Kirk on top of him. Kirk spread his legs on either side of Spock's hips and snuggled his erection into Spock's. He swirled his fingers through the silky chest hair and lower still.

Spock's hands closed on Kirk's ass, gently urging him forward onto his chest. He leaned forward and ran his tongue around the head of Kirk's cock, sliding it up and down, farther into his mouth. Kirk closed his eyes in pure pleasure and gave himself over to Spock's care. He jumped a bit when Spock's finger brushed against his anus. Spock, undeterred, merely reached under the pillow where the lubricant was usually kept. It was not there.

Kirk leaned over and reached into the beside table. He handed a half full tube to the Vulcan.

Spock swirled his tongue around Kirk's penis while he stroked between Kirk's buttocks, spreading them gently, pressing a gel coated finger ever deeper and closer to the sweet tightness he sought. Sucking Kirk deeper, Spock applied more lubricant and began to work his finger slowly and gently in.

Kirk let his eyes fall shut, marveling at how much he was enjoying Spock's leisurely preparation. Their previous lovemakings had often had a rushed but exciting feel about them. Kirk inhaled sharply as Spock began to stroke his prostate in the same rhythm as the Vulcan's tongue stroked the underside of his cock.

Spock slipped in another well oiled finger, thrusting gently deeper.

Kirk bared his teeth in pleasure as he undulated gently to Spock's rhythm, forward into Spock's mouth, backward onto Spock's fingers.

Spock decided that Kirk was ready. He slowly withdrew his fingers, eased Kirk out of his mouth and onto the bed. He rolled on top of him and kissed the human softly.

"Jim ... I want to be inside you."

"Yes, but slowly, Spock. It's been a while."

"Too long," the Vulcan said in a deep murmur, looking out of dark desire filled eyes.

Spock held Kirk close and urged him onto his stomach, spreading his legs with his knees. Kneeling between the human's legs, Spock liberally applied lubricant to his penis. He braced his hands against Kirk's hips, holding them firmly while stroking reassuringly, and pressed his cock against the entrance to Kirk's body. Spock paused, waiting for the tension and apprehension to leave the human.

"Relax, Jim, let me in."

Spock began to press forward gently. Kirk put his attention on relaxing while pushing his muscles against Spock's forward momentum. Spock softly rocked his hips, a little harder, a little more, a thrust and the slippery head was past the tight ring. He paused there to allow Kirk to adjust. The Vulcan pressed forward again when he felt Kirk gently thrusting up against him.

Spock reached beneath Kirk to caress his cock, gently pulling his captain's hips into a better angle for fucking him.

Feeling that Kirk was getting impatient, Spock slowly but steadily slid all the way in. He stopped to let Kirk get used to the feeling of full penetration. Spock took another moment to compose himself before he was overwhelmed by the snug warmth that held him like a vise.

Kirk was adjusting, soothing himself, impaled, held fast by Spock. He shivered under Spock's hands, filled by him, spread beneath him.

Spock felt Kirk pressing back, urging him to move. He drew back and slid in again. Kirk moved in harmony with his lover. The human groaned with pleasure as Spock's cock stroked his prostate, again and again.

Spock increased his pace, very much in control of himself but demanding his pleasure from Kirk's body. Harder, faster, feeling Kirk's orgasm welling up in him, his muscles clenching about Spock's cock in rapture, feeling his own climax crashing over him.

Spock threw his head back as he silently came. He leaned his forehead between Kirk's shoulders, listening to the panting human beneath him.

Spock roused himself and gently pressed his lips to the nape of Kirk's neck.

They lay joined for a moment longer. Spock gently and slowly withdrew, stopping to wait for Kirk's muscles to free him. He pulled Kirk into his arms, kissed him tenderly and ran his fingers through the golden hair.

Kirk curled sweetly into Spock's arms, murmured softy, "I shall miss you while you're gone," and drifted off to welcome sleep.

Spock held his lover, watched him sleep for a while. Eventually he rose, dressed and departed to his own cabin to bathe and pack for the first part of his journey to his birthplanet.

* * *

***End of Part IV***