Title: After the Rescue

Part: NEW 11/73

Author: Karmen Ghia, karmen_ghia@yahoo.com

Series: TOS

Romance Code: S/Mc and then some.

Rating: NC-17

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

See part one for disclaimers, etc.

Master Khat had had enough. He threw down his brush and stormed past his adopted son, Tien Gozshedrefreingin baMajaKhat, and out of his studio: "STOP SINGING THAT FUCKING HYMN RIGHT NOW!"

The commune froze. Master Ghet and his middle son, Hraja Gozshedrefreingin baMajaKhat, exchanged looks.

"I believe Master Khat is struggling with his subject as much as we, Master," Hraja said, brushing his blond curls off his subtly ridged brow.

"Perhaps finding a subject for a Klingonaphile mural is more challenge than struggle, being that your father likes Klingons so little." Master Ghet could be maddeningly serene in the face of another's turmoil.

Hraja nodded. The Klingon Cathedral they were building was to be decorated inside with murals depicting Klingon virtues: honor, fidelity, strength and whatever else they could think up.

As to honor and fidelity, MajaKhat had not seen much of it in Klingons. His mother was the Romulan Emperor's youngest daughter and had been married to the Klingon Emperor's youngest son, Kvortine. A dynastic marriage of great consequence between individuals of little consequence. It was, however, a step toward solidarity between the two martial empires and afforded them a year or so of peace. It was Princess Malira's mixed fortune to be pregnant with Maja when resurgent tensions between the empires caused such anti-Rom feeling in Klingon society that Roms were murdered in the streets. Because the Klingon code forbids killing pregnant women and unborn children (they, however, are fair game after the birth) Malira was merely imprisoned. Romaphiles General ShranHaat and Professor AtaKhat spirited her away, with the aid of young Captain KzostGhet, his crew and ship, to the Khat's home on Yzorfiraina, a distant planet where the unfashionable Khats now lived. Long ago they had been the imperial family but as they preferred art and knowledge to force, they had seen the wisdom in yielding to the Tzaj clan and their vassals, the Haats and Yhets.

Exile was preferable to death but the Khats did like to slap the Tzajs when they thought they could and rescuing poor Malira (her father had made only a token protest over his daughter's mistreatment), adopting her child and giving her a safe and happy home was perfect, just perfect.

Princess Malira was a lady of great refinement. In addition to being able to run a household, hunt and organize an attack on a fortified position, she was a very skilled stone and metal sculptress, ceramist and painter. She was a welcome addition to the Khat clan, which had become somewhat effete and needed shaking up. Ata's brother, BorlaKhat, was delighted with his bride and adopted son, Maja, once he realized that 'yes, dear' was all the conversation his Malira required. They managed to have eight children somehow.

So the newly named Maja baBorlaKhat grew up in peace and security, far from the turmoil and intrigue of the Klingon court. He learned art and survival from his mother and everything else from the Khats, whose company he actually preferred to his intense and bitter mama.

MajaKhat had inherited his mother's rare blond hair, jet brows and lashes and his father's Klingon build. He wore his wavy blond locks long over his brow to cover the small Klingon ridges and high Rom eyebrows because the former offended the commune and the latter offended their Klingon masters. He wore his hair long to cover his pointed Rom ears and had an easy grace, surprising to see in the usual massive Klingon physique. Both sexes swooned over him but his preference was for women. Being raised by the Khat's had encouraged his gentle, thoughtful nature and made him a careful scholar and artist. Aside from the one time he'd contradicted his mother, he had a very peaceful and happy childhood once he learned that 'yes, mother' was all the conversation that fine lady required of her children. He loved his brothers and sisters and rampaged over the decrepit estate and grounds in their own little tribe. It was hard on the shrubbery but the Khats could live with it. The lineage of the possible heir to the Rom and Klingon Imperial thrones was soon forgotten and he merely became another happy, mud covered, mixed breed child romping across the lawn.

And Klingon strength: MajaKhat had only seen it used against the people he loved. No help there.

Now, many years later and on far away Rovirin, Master Khat's other adopted son and Master Ghet's youngest son, Farro Gozshedrefreingin baMajaKhat, looked up from the bronze model in his hands and at his adopted father: "Thank the infinite mercy of the unknowable mind of god. What shall we sing?" asked the dark little vulcanoid.

Master Khat smiled at his youngest child, Farro could be counted on to say what was on his mind. He thought for a moment: "Sing that love song we learned from the Hijiria singer." He swept back into his studio and confronted his blank canvas. Klingon virtues: he was not a miniaturist.

Profound lyrics and funeral melodies were replaced with inane couplets and a catchy little tune.

'What a relief,' thought Master Ghet, joining in, 'thank the unknowable mind of god the Hierophant Kroldt left this morning and we can stop being so fucking religious.'

As to fucking religious leaders, GozineGhet was all for it. The Hierophant Kroldt was quite a catch for a simple priest such as Gozine was when they met. Much of the success of the commune was due to the opportunities his powerful lover had made available to them. Their continued success was due to the brilliance of Masters Ghet and Khat and the design Masters Whilla and Pzchaz and to all the hard working, art loving artisans of the Gozshedrefreingin Commune. Kroldt and the Haat clan's patronage protected the commune from being preyed upon by powerful Klingons hunting concubines or other slaves.

For slaves they were, however, such valuable slaves that their safety and well being was of tantamount concern for the Hierophant and the Haats.

The dominant power structure of Klingon culture was not conducive to art and beauty, being too busy with war and intrigue. For centuries whatever artistic accomplishment the empire enjoyed had come from the religious communes which had begun their existence as prisons for misfits, mixed breeds, orphans, bastards, cripples, malcontents and other undesirables, including real criminals. Having nothing else to do, the prisoners made their cage as beautiful as possible and developed a practical philosophy that beauty and captivity were not incompatible. After all, they had nothing else to do so might as well spruce the joint up. The Klingon saint, Uuzsta, had sacrificed himself to bring religion to the prisons, which didn't have much use for it but knew a good thing when they saw it. Uuzsta, no fool himself, also knew a good thing when he saw it and for the greater glory of the most Holy Klingon Imperial Church and the more lasting spread of Klingon culture (blasters, alas, only got you so far) brought the prisons, now called communes, under the powerful protection of the Most Holy Klingon Supreme Religious Leader.

The Most Holy Klingon Supreme Religious Leader was as useless as the Emperor. The seven Hierophants ran the Church and occasionally the Empire when necessary. The twenty-one Meta-Primates were responsible for where and how the twenty-one communes were employed (to the greater glory, etc.) and this gave them a great deal of power in the outer reaches of the Empire where the communes were most frequently sent to build the infrastructure.

Building infrastructure suited the communes down to the ground. It gave them as much autonomy as they could want, money and power, as long as they played their cards right and didn't offend their Meta-Primate, his Hierophant and their patron clan. This was not onerous, the main language of the communes was the Magidrian Patois, they could express themselves as freely as they wished. It was perfect for everyone.

Saint Uuzsta had formulated the ranks of Apprentice, Journeyman and Master within the commune. All members of the commune received religious training in addition to artistic training and upon attaining the level of Journeyman were required to take vows in the novitiate and assist the Masters in religious ceremony when called upon. This was seldom since they were so remote from the main Klingon population, however, if a warship was nearby and the needed ceremony for a religious holiday it was the commune's duty to provide it.

Because the communes lived in remote and unsettled areas they were allowed to bear arms and train in martial arts. They were very good at martial arts due to the type of people that were in the original prisons. The comunists therefore had extensive training, which was handed down through the generations.

Lastly, because they were slaves they were tattooed as property but with a difference. On the back of the right hand was the rune in ancient church Klingon for the name of the commune, on the left was the name of the slave. Journeymen added a thick line beneath their name to indicate their accomplishment, Masters added a thick line at the top to indicate the same. On the palms were tattooed the runes for their accomplishments in the arts, sciences and martial arts. This allowed everyone to know what the artisan was qualified to do and saved a great deal of time and squabbling when two communes occasionally worked together on a project. It also allowed the Klingon warriors that interacted with the commune to know the level of martial skill the artisan possessed and what kind of tussle they could expect. Know your friends as well as enemies and keep an eye on your slaves was a Klingon motto. Klingons hated surprises.

The traditional commune greeting to outsiders was one of submission: hands were crossed at the wrists at waist level, palms down and then turned over face up to show all the runes to the visitor. The hands remained in this position until the visitor had seen all that was wanted and released the artisan with a nod. The communists were happy to have few visitors; they were busy people and had things to do.

The usual commune greeting amongst themselves was a thump on the chest and a bearhug. In this tight knit telepathic Patois speaking community physicality and deep loving bonds were to be reveled in and hidden from outsiders. But obscurity and Patois guaranteed that.

The commune system produced the occasional saint but not too often so nobody felt threatened and life was beautiful.

It was not unusual for ranking religious and military Klingons to take lovers in the communes in return for their patronage and protection. It was unusual for one of the seven Hierophants to take a Journeyman sculptor into keeping, make him a Master and bestow the most desirable projects on the Commune. But there it was and the Gozshedrefreingin Commune had no trouble living up to the reputation they had built for themselves.

Kroldt had seen GozineGhet, formerly Maja Talljet, assisting his sculpture Master, NvartTehn, in a ceremony just before the consecration of cathedral on Pzort 7. He had come to perform the consecration himself to firmly establish this planet as being in the Kroldt/Haat sphere of influence. He'd no idea he'd fall in love with the willowy youth holding an incense vessel at MasterTehn's side.

That evening Gozine was summoned to the Hierophant's bedroom in the Bishop's palace, also constructed by the Commune. MajaKhat, Whilla and Pzchaz had watched him go with concern; he was deeply loved in the Commune.

Gozine himself was unconcerned. He had made enough eye contact with Kroldt in the church to know that a) this was an incredibly powerful Klingon, b) that Kroldt was more than sexually interested, and c) like all Klingons, this one could be wrapped around Gozine's MageCheq finger in an instant. So off he went, ready to conquer by being conquered for the greater glory of the Gozshedrefreingin commune and the Talljets.

Gozine did not possess great beauty but his peaceful soul shone from beautiful eyes and his graceful presence more than eclipsed his plain, regular features. Those fortunate enough or powerful enough to be his lovers were consumed by being in the presence of great soul beauty that decay would never touch. Because of his plainness he was not passed from Klingon to Klingon as were the great beauties (who often wore veils in the Commune) and so he was able to concentrate on seducing only useful or interesting Klingons.

He considered the Hierophant supremely useful and looked forward to making love to him. Or more accurately, reading him while making love to him.

So Gozine was pleased to see the wide bed turned down and two glasses of wine beside it. Kroldt seemed nervous because he was. He had no previous experience with men and was beginning to wonder if he should refuse the artisan entry. But he did not and felt calmed by the young novice's presence in his bedroom.

Gozine was at perfect peace, standing in the big room, waiting for the next thing. After a longish silence he ventured: "You asked for me, Hierophant."

Kroldt seemed to wake up: "Ah, yes. I understand you worked the stone with MasterTehn. I find it most impressive and wish to know ..." he trailed off.

Gozine raised his eyebrows encouragingly.

"And wished to know if you will hear my confession." Kroldt finally rapped out.

Gozine gave an inward sigh knowing it was going to be a long night.

"I am not ordained, lord." He lowered his eyes prettily hoping the old fool would make his move and they could get on with it.

"I do not care." Sounded desperate but so what? "Sit over there." Kroldt gestured to a chair farthest from the bed.

Gozine moved to it with more grace than the Klingon had seen in many years and sat.

Kroldt tossed a pillow on the floor beside him and knelt, facing in the opposite direction.

This proximity was actually enough for Gozine to read the Klingon's telefield, they were a poorly shielded species. 'Or perhaps,' he thought, 'it was the attitude of confession that opened his thoughts to him. Perhaps I needn't fuck the old boy to get into his head. Unless I want to, that is.'

The Klingon was silent for a moment longer, collecting his thoughts.

"If you were ordained you would have a veil to wear when hearing a warrior's or member of the Imperial family's confession but not when hearing a fellow priest or communist's."

Gozine nodded, he knew enough to know not to respond until the penitent looked up at him. He felt decidedly odd in this position but was beginning to see its manifold possibilities.

"I have lived my whole life in religion, child. I have devoted myself to the spiritual well-being of my people with my entire heart. I have avoided entanglements as passion clouds the mind and I feel it is my duty to remain unclouded."

'I have never had sex with a man but I want to have sex with you,' Gozine translated mentally.

"I believe the Communes provide opportunities for many pathetic creatures that would otherwise not survive in mainstream Klingon society."

'On the one hand, people will think I've gone mad to go to bed with a Commune boy; on the other, such things are not unheard of.' Gozine translated for himself. He was wondering why this was an issue. Taking lovers in the commune was quite common. He himself had had his share of Klingon warriors, at least they were more straightforward about climbing into bed. 'I wonder how long his knees can last,' he thought patiently.

"I do not believe in weakness, vice, lust, fear or submission."

'Yes,' thought Gozine, 'let's leave those problems in the commune where the pathetic creatures can make the best of them.'

"But I feel a great spirituality in you, Gozine, and I wish to foster it." (I want to fuck you.) "I feel there might be a wonderful future for you in this Commune." (I want to fuck you a lot.) "I feel that perhaps I myself might learn something from your art." (I might want you to fuck me once in a while.) "We can never know where we will find grace in this mysterious creation." (Only this morning I was a free man and now I am at your feet.) "It would be unwise to refuse the blessing the universe chooses to bestow upon us." (I can probably overpower you but I hope it will not be necessary.) "We must embrace this life in religion in all its infinite diversity and creativity."

Gozine stopped reading the meta message with relief as he felt the Hierophant's hand sliding up his calf and thigh, under his habit.

Without looking at him, Kroldt eased Gozine from the chair and onto the floor next to him.

"I feel my attraction to you is a weakness." (I feel my attraction to you is a weakness.) "I wish to turn it into a strength." (You must submit, little one, or I will kill you.)

Gozine leaned sweetly into the Hierophant's arms and looked up at him with a trusting innocence he'd never possessed. And no fear whatsoever.

"We must be strong, together, Master." He murmured breathlessly. 'How annoying these repressed high born Klingon's are,' he thought, 'you want me, I'm game, let's go. But, oh no, you've got to make a passion play and pageant out of it, don't ya? Hochofedra.' And he shrugged mentally.

The Hierophant looked into Gozine Ghet's big brown eyes and was lost. An Avatar could not have gotten his attention at just that moment.

He bent to kiss the novice's forehead and moved to his eyes, cheeks, nose, jaw, still thinking he would walk away from this, and finally, his lips. And knew there was no walking away from this.

Gozine was impressed. Obviously, the Hierophant intended to take his time about this and that was fine with him. He had all night and had gleaned a great deal of information from the man already.

(There was turmoil in the Imperial court.) The Hierophant lay down on top of him and crushed his mouth to Gozine's.

(The Yhets had the upper hand in events and the Emperor's ear for the moment.) He cupped Gozine's ass in his big hands and ground their erections together.

(The Haat clan's plan was to consolidate their planets and wait for the Yhets to do something stupid, which could be counted on to happen.) The Hierophant eased Gozine's habit over his head and stroked his cool hands over the lithe body beneath his.

(The Yhets hoped to cut a swathe through the Autonomous Zones and attack Romulan territory in its least densely planeted space. The Roms would then move their defenses from the real objective, which was the system of rich planets of the Autonomous Zones closest to Klingon space.) The Hierophant lifted Gozine gently in his arms and carried him to the bed.

(The Haats intended to allow the Yhets to proceed with their preparations, but would withhold, divert or sabotage crucial supplies for as long as possible to keep the Yhet fleets in Klingon spacedocks until the Haats themselves could finish consolidating their hold, military as well as cultural, on the rich planets, such as the one they were now on, in this peaceful sector bordering a vast Autonomous Zone.) Kroldt pulled off his vestments and lay naked on top of Gozine.

(The last thing the Haats wanted was another war, even a small one, with the Romulans because ... ) Kroldt spread Gozine's legs very wide.

( ... their fleets had been devastated by an organized rebellion in the Yqirorian system and preyed upon by Autonomous Zones pirates in their weakened condition.) Kroldt seemed unsure of the next move, Gozine lifted his hips to center the Hierophant's cock at his anus.

(Hence, it was necessary for the Haats to destroy the Yhet's plans with delays, restore their own fleets and by that time have so discredited the Yhet's in the Emperor's eyes that they could continue to colonize non-aligned space. The Emperor did not want war with his former in-laws either but his favorite concubine of the moment was an agent for the Yhets and he was under the beauty's thumb as well as spell.) The Hierophant pressed inside and rolled his head back in animal pleasure.

(The Haats had their own agents in the Imperial household and intended to remove the offending concubine once the creature's usefulness had been exhausted. The Haats were consummate strategists, they had flourished for a long time and didn't intend to let the fool Yhets spoil it now.) Gozine rose to meet his lover's long, hard thrusts.

(The Yhets were not stupid either. They had recently made peace with the pirates in the Autonomous Zones closest to their richest planets and, unlike the Haats, had not lost some of their best ships and commanders so were in better material condition that their rivals. For the moment. The Haats had every intention of changing that. Building a fleet is expensive. Repeatedly rebuilding a sabotaged fleet is even more expensive.) Kroldt slowed his thrusts and reached between them to stroke Gozine's hard penis.

Gozine decided he had enough information and laid back to enjoy what had turned out to be really excellent sex. He arched against his lover, rubbing his cock against the smooth honey-colored belly.

Kroldt gathered Gozine in his arms and kissed him deeply. He began to move with more purpose. He was ready to cum and hoped his partner was, too; if not, too bad.

He flung himself against Gozine, who met his powerful thrusts with his own, and felt his climax crash over him. Kroldt noticed Gozine thrashing against him in his own climax as he collapsed on top of him. When he could notice anything else he did not notice any cum between them.

"Did you ... ah... find release?" he finally asked.

"Yes, Master, thank you." Gozine looked demurely at him from under lowered jet lashes. It was devastating.

(The Mage only make semen when impregnation is required but the Hierophant wouldn't know that until he asked Gozine years later.)

Kroldt rolled off him and lay on his back panting. Gozine rose and walked over to the heap of clothing on the floor. He put on his own habit. He returned to the bed, picked up the Hierophant's robes and carefully laid them over the back of a chair.

Kroldt watched him. He rose, pulled back the covers and got under them. He held them open for Gozine, who hesitated.

"Stay. No one will ask about it and if they do I'll tell them I've developed a deep and compelling interest in sculpture."

Gozine tossed off his habit and curled beside his new lover. Kroldt drew him close, pushed aside some ebony curls and kissed his alabaster forehead.

"How little you are," he murmured, enthralled by the creature he held.

Gozine sighed with pleasure and snuggled a little closer. He fell asleep in the huge arms.

The next morning the cathedral was consecrated, the Commune was split and the Hierophant presided over the creation of a new branch of the Gozshedrefreingin commune and four new Klingon masters to guide it. Master Whilla in structural design, Master Pzchaz in terrain design, Master Khat in painting and as head of the commune, Master GozineGhet, the sculptor. The other Masters, including Master Tehn, and a number of their artisans were packed off to sculpt cherubs and paint saints in a monastery on the other end of the Empire. The decidedly unfashionable end of the Empire.

As news of these astonishing events spread, Gozine was given another name in religion: Gozine the Confessor. Due to the Hierophant's cagey recommendation (his story, and he was sticking to it, was that he recognized Master Ghet's greatness while confessing to him) Master Ghet found himself hearing the confessions of the most powerful Klingons in the Empire.

The confessions themselves were boring. Klingons confessed things Gozine did not consider serious transgressions such as fear, doubt, awe, but the meta messages he read in their telefields were absolutely fascinating. He offered what comfort and insight he could to the penitent, usually more than they expected and so developed a reputation as something of a saint.

end of part 11

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

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