Title: After the Rescue

Part: NEW 26/73

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.

"This is DRIVEL." Farro jerked his chin at the disk player.

"But well played drivel," Jir shot back.

"I rather like it," Tien said from between Jir's legs.

"HA!" Farro explained.

"Farro, the musicologist,' Kalzat tossed into the fray.

Hraja, seated between them, rolled his eyes and leaned back in case the teacups started flying; not an unusual occurrence with Farro and Kalzat.

"Boys, boys..." Jir began but was distracted by transporter hum.

Kalzat and Hraja stood and drew their weapons. Farro moved behind them, poised to run for help if necessary. Tien drew a small arm from his skirts and Jir unclasped his sidearm and cocked it. They waited.

Jir let his shoulders slump in relief and his brow furrow in irritation: "Spock! How RUDE."

Spock looked blandly around at the array of weapons aimed at him and then said to Jir: "My apologies, Jir."

"It's all right, children, he's harmless," Jir said, wondering if that were entirely true and holstered his own weapon.

The Communists put their weapons away and returned to their interrupted activities, however, keeping a wary eye on the intruder. Except Tien whose gaze had not wavered.

Spock assumed the low ringing tone in his ears was due to his proximity to so many telepaths. He raised his split fingers to Jir in the Vulcan greeting and was answered in the traditional manner.

"Children, perhaps you should run along," Jir said.

Tien twisted round to look him in the eyes: "Oh, Uncle, please let me stay. I'll be quiet and still."

Jir had never been able to say no to Tien in his life; he'd rather die than deny what was in those eyes right now.

"All right," Jir sighed. "But not a word or sound from ANY of you." He gave Farro a sharp look and got a happy sneer of assent. "Tea, Spock? We have Relan and Ololosta."

Spock accepted a cup of Relan from Hraja, noted his resemblance to Maja Talljet and the freshness of the brew with interest. He sat near Jir, noting Tien's beauty as well as resemblance to Maja and vaguely to someone else he couldn't quite put his finger on. He also noted again that his ears were ringing in a strange way and attributed it to the presence of the many telepathic Patois speaking Communists nearby. The ringing did not, however, interfere with his enjoyment of the music playing.

"How'd you find me, Spock?" Jir asked as Spock got settled into an armchair.

"Your FIS," Spock replied.

"My FIS …?" Jir was puzzled. "OH. The thing in my wrist! I always forget about that. I should have it removed one of these days."

"You will never be able to get onto a Federation planet if you do," Spock said. "They scan them without bringing it to your attention." He sipped his tea. "Unless you do not have one, then that is brought to the attention of many people."

"Ummm," the MageCheq murmured and they were silent for a while.

Jir had returned to his braiding: "Now, Vulcan, what the hell do you want?"

"I want my father and Maja returned," Spock said.

Nobody flinched. The Communists knew GozineGhet was an alias and had heard the Talljet uncles call him Maja over the years.

"Of course," Jir said shortly. "Hobie told you we're working on it and we are. What else do you want?"

Spock sipped his tea and studied Tien studying him.

"I still wish to speak to your brother, Jir."

"We'll see, Spock, we'll see. Let's get them back alive and whole first, hey?"

Spock was somewhat mollified by that.

"Who are these people, Jir?"

Jir stroked Tien's braid and decided a section of the truth wouldn't hurt anyone: "This," he gestured to Tien with his chin. "Is Tien Gozshedrefreingin baMajaKhat, Maja's oldest and Master Khat's journeyman painting assistant. "

"I heard my name," Master Khat said entering.

"Indeed, Maja. I'm just introducing your children to SpockDeVulCheq."

Master Khat nearly dropped the cup he'd just accepted from Hraja: "Really?" He looked down at Tien, who winked at him. "Hmmmm," he murmured. He nodded at Spock: "I'm Master Khat. Sorry about your father, I met him and he seemed a decent sort." He paused to acknowledge Spock's micro nod. "I'm a Maja, too, lots of them out this way." He sat and frowned at Farro's drawing of Spock, making some significant and more flattering suggestions for it.

"Lose the horns, little one," Master Khat murmured in Patois.

"And this is your son?" Spock said looking hard for a trace of Klingon in the very vulcanoid Tien.

"Yes," MajaKhat said simply and sipped his Ololosta tea.

Spock, outnumbered and trying to be gracious, decided this was not the time to debate that: "And the other three, Jir?"

"The big blonde one is Hraja Gozshedrefreingin baMajaKhat, our Maja's second son and sculpture journeyman assistant. He's a very fine stone sculptor," Jir said.

Hraja nodded politely and returned to his drawing of Spock (without horns).

Spock returned the nod, noting the obvious (to him) fusion of his Maja and MajaKhat in the youth.

"And the little dark one..." Jir continued, or tried to at least.

"I'm NOT little," Farro snarled.

"Sorry, the mouthy dark one," Jir paused to stare the lad down. "Is Farro Gozshedrefreingin baMajaKhat. He's just become Master sDhec's journeyman metal assistant. He's a very fine bronze sculptor."

Spock nodded at Farro, who was suddenly too shy to look up from his drawing. He was struggling with age thirteen; the entire Commune struggled along with him as best they could.

In truth, he was the Commune's favorite of the Ghet-Khat household because he was the most outgoing and friendly and interested in the doings of others. Tien was considered brilliant but cold and Hraja gentle but withdrawn, but Farro was always welcome in the middle of things. He, like his brothers, was honest, loyal and good natured, he was just more obvious about it. And dearly dearly loved for it.

"And this is also your son?" Spock asked Master Khat, again searching for a trace of Klingon in the little vulcanoid.

"Yes," MajaKhat affirmed. No need to tell this... person... that Farro's father had taken Gozine away from MajaKhat when they arrived in the Commune, fathered Farro and then tossed Gozine and baby out of his workshop when the MageCheq had gone back to male. And then conveniently fallen off a scaffold and broken his neck when Farro was a toddler. No matter, MajaKhat loved them all the same and had the most wonderful time watching them grow up and turn out really spectacularly well. Really.

Farro knew MajaKhat was not his biofather but could care less. He considered MajaKhat his father and offered to fight anyone who wanted to disagree. Tien felt the same way but was a bit more diplomatic about it.

"And that's KalzatMzir, Tien's boyfriend and defender of the Rovirin cathedral," Jir finished.

Kalzat and Spock exchanged tiny nods. The Klingon-Vulcan war was long over but a certain wariness remained between the species.

"Why did it need defending?" Spock asked, accepting more tea from Hraja.

"The Klingon Garrison took a fancy to our Tien and Polmira, whom you haven't met, and had to be, ah, discouraged," Jir told him.

Spock took a long look at Tien and felt a chill run up his spine. 'That beauty with those ...'

"Actually, Kalzat," Jir asked the Klingon, breaking into Spock's thought before he could get too worked up. "I've been wondering whose idea it was to rain hot metal on the Klingons?"

"Farro's," Kalzat answered.

"Except it was polluted," Farro snapped.

"Hot metal?" Spock asked Tien.

"Yes," Tien nodded, smiling, "little chunks of nickel, iron, copper, bronze, calicine, torp - whatever we had laying around. About so big," he made a small circle with thumb and forefinger, "heated in a cauldron with a torch and poured off the roof. Too clever; really!"

"Polluted how, dear?" Jir asked Farro.

"My original brilliant idea that I thought up all by myself ..."

"... was to pour molten metal on them," MajaKhat finished for him to save time. "The Masters felt that was a bit much. We merely wanted to discourage the Klingons, not fry their bones."

"Hmmm," Jir murmured putting the last ribbon on Tien's ornate braid and giving him a pat.

"How old are you, Tien?" Spock asked, examining him.

Tien rose gracefully, dipping his head and flipping his massive braid off his shoulder so very much as Maja Talljet had on Vulcan long ago that Spock was momentarily wordless.

"Old enough," Tien drawled coolly. He sashayed over to Kalzat and snuggled into the Klingon's lap.

Spock repressed his annoyance at Tien's sass and his taste in seating.

Jir rolled his eyes in annoyance when Kalzat began to amuse himself by undoing the fabulous braid.

"Humph! Children, if you're going to wreck my hard work go do it where I can't see you doing it," he said, disgusted.

The children rose and left the room in an outraged but dignified group.

MajaKhat was still chuckling when Spock's communicator beeped at him.

"How goes it, Mr. Spock?" Kirk had waited as long as he could.

"Well, Captain," Spock replied.

"That KirkaFar?" Jir asked. "Jir says hi," he added waving cheerfully. "Hi, KirkaFar. Hi."

"Jir Talljet sends his regards, sir," Spock said, knowing Jir would go on and on until he did.

"Where are you?" Kirk asked.

"Inside the Rovirin Cathedral," Spock answered.

"That's directly across the street from the Palace of Government," Kirk said, consulting the schematic General Kzijiet had sent over. "Stay put. Kzijiet is withdrawing his men and we're going to quell the civil unrest with phaser stuns to the city streets. Time to completion is ten standard minutes."

Jir considered protesting this on the basis of ... what? He wanted the riots ended as much as anyone but it felt unseemly to have it done by Star Fleet. He was rather sorry he'd not thought of it himself. Kzijiet must be near the end of his resources if he was taking aid from Kirk the Beautiful.

Spock looked around the peaceful, well ordered room and wondered that there could be riots outside. Or that this building had ever been stormed by rampaging Klingons. He looked at Jir straining to read the tops of these thoughts that peeked over his high Vulcan shields.

"What is this music, Jir?" Spock asked, letting a lyre cadenza fill his mind instead.

"The new Strat disk Ling brought from Shirkar. You remember Strat? Used to run around with Hobie on Vulcan. Gave you a few lyre lessons as I recall," Jir smiled at one of his happier memories of Vulcan.

"Yes, of course." It was a pleasant memory for Spock, too. He even paused to enjoy it. "Yes. I thought it might be him."

"You may have it, Spock," Jir smiled at him and winked at MajaKhat. "The children," he drawled too seriously, "are incapable of appreciating it."

* * *

"What's closest?" Hobie asked Ling's image on the viewscreen of the Tien.

"Povarb. You can refit there and go back to look for Maja and Sarek." Ling said this but was dubious of the idea. The Talljets didn't know this space and were thoroughly loathed in it to boot. Except Maja, who was unknown to the Tziviians. He shuddered at the thought of the Tziviians finding out Maja was Hobie's brother.

"I know, I know," Hobie said quickly in response to Ling's thought. "We'll find him. Them. Don't worry."

It was, however, worrying. They did not know what planet Maja and Sarek had gone to or if they had succeeded in getting there. Hobie and Ling assumed they would feel it if he were dead but if he died when his shields were up ... nah, his spirit would tell them, they were sure of that.

"So we assume Maja's alive at least, hopefully Sarek ..." Ling trailed off at Hobie's sneer.

"Now, Hobie, wouldn't Maja feel stupid if, after all this, he couldn't get Sarek back to Vulcan alive, no matter how you feel about it?" Ling soothed.

"Yes, dear," Hobie sighed, "right as usual." He turned to look Dolo-fra, just entering the bridge, in the face. "Yes, savior of we unworthy to lick your ... boots," he purred at his favorite engineer.

"You're a savage, Hobie, what you've MADE ME DO TO THESE POOR ENGINES IS A CRIME AGAINST NATURE."

Ling's eyes got big and everybody on both bridges was suddenly very engrossed in their work.

"Did you come up here just to scream at me, Dolo?" Hobie asked pleasantly, ignoring the outburst. He was used to it.

"Yes, of course."

"Hmmm. Well, I've good news for you, Dolo. We're going to Povarb." Hobe informed him. "We can dry dock there, you can take things apart, put them together, take them apart again. You know, all that stuff you so love to do." He smiled charmingly.

"Povarb? Oh, good!" Dolo-fra enthused, completely cured of his ill humor. He turned to the viewscreen and waved at Ling: "Hullo, Ling, thanks for rescuing us. See ya." And left the bridge.

"Okay, back to reality, everyone," Hobie said. "Neria-Tza, based on the last reading, where did, could, probably might have that shuttlecraft go?"

"I've got the coords and projected course but no idea the name of the planet or what's there, Hobie," Neria-Tza answered. "But how are you going to get them in the middle of the Tziviian Autonomous Zone?"

"I'm taking suggestions."

"You could send them a flying pig to ride home on," Qwuushi offered.

"SHUT UP." Hobie was suddenly ice.

"Sorry," Qwuushi said sincerely, knowing he'd gone too far.

Hobie exhaled and unclenched his jaw.

"Hobie," Mizat said gently, "as you know, we've lost the element of surprise. I've been monitoring their communications and our 'invasion' is all they can talk about. They've upped their patrols and the Hovra pirates have joined them to fight the common enemy. Us."

"Invasion?" Ling asked.

"Better they think it's an invasion than we're lookin' for something or somebody," Neria-Tza said quietly.

"So how do we get in there and get Maja?" Ling wanted to know. "And Sarek," he added for his own benefit.

"We don't," Hobie said flatly. "We don't go near the Tziviians, that space gives me the creeps anyway. But it's more than that," he continued, responding to Ling's frown. "We can't track Maja with our shields up, as they must be in that space or we all go crazy, and he can't signal us for the same reason. We gotta send someone who can track him and keep the Tziviians off at the same time. Someone used to finding and retrieving telepaths. Bounty hunters. Empath/telepaths. Mr. Yrit and Mr. Gvo."

'Oh, Hobie,' thought Neria-Tza. Messrs. Yrit and Gvo scared him, a lot.

"Gotta better idea, XochiCheq?" Hobie asked him.

"No," Neria-Tza said, suddenly inclined to agree with Dolo-fra that Hobie was indeed a savage.

"Has anyone got a better idea?" Hobie raised his voice and looked around both bridges. "If so, I'd like to hear it RIGHT NOW."

Heads were shaken.

"Get them," Hobie turned to Mizat, referring to Yrit and Gvo. "I'll pay for their earliest convenience. Face to face, nothing on the freq, you dij?"

"I dij." Mizat turned to his communications board, hoping that sending the scariest beings in the galaxy after sweet Maja Talljet was the right thing to do.

* * *

"This planet is now a Federation Protectorate," Commodore Yakolev informed them, standing in the SubLeader's office in the Palace of Government (the Leader's office carpet still needed Imstk's blood washed out of it) after civil order had been restored.

"WHAT!" Jir yelped in surprise. Yakolev's pronouncement abruptly terminated his contemplation of what was on between Kirk, Spock and McCoy. Based on the information in their telefields, it was something rather wild, really rather wild.

General Kzijiet and the Hierophant exchanged interested looks. They actually could care less; they'd had enough of this contentious backwater. The Hierophant would mourn the loss of the cathedral, it was magnificent. But there were other cathedrals to build. One on Zhaharnisha, as a matter of fact.

"This is by order of the Federation Council," Yakolev declared.

McCoy could almost see the 'LAWYER' switch flip to the 'on' position in Jir. He glanced at Kirk and Spock, both politely engrossed in staring into the middle distance. He wondered if they had known this was to happen but it was impossible to tell.

"Don't you wave your Federation Council at me, Commodore," councilor Talljet said with deceptive blandness. "Talljet Inc. holds title to this planet, we lease huge swathes of it to the Klingons, and you are trying to seize the private property of a Federation Chartered Corporation." He inhaled. "Commerce, Commodore, is usually ten steps ahead of gunboat diplomacy."

"Then in the name of the United Federation of Planets I nationalize this planet," the Commodore snarled back.

Jir raked the Klingons with his eyes. No help there; if they were willing to fight for this little planet they would have spoken up by now. He didn't have enough Talljet Inc. firepower and Hobie's fleet was too far away to cope with the twenty warships Yakolev brought with him. And starting a fight between StaFlet and Company ships was the stupidest thing he could imagine. Only the Klingons could have given Yakolev pause and they were a nonstarter.

"Then I'll see you in court or hell or BOTH." Jir returned to 'DIVA' mode and stormed out of the room with Mig in his wake.

There was an extended silence in the room, as if they were waiting for Jir's rage to dissipate or the world to end or something.

The silence was broken by General Kzijiet contacting his ship and beaming himself and the Hierophant the hell out of there.

"'Gunboat diplomacy'," Ambassador Sdiz, silent until then, said slowly from his chair by the fire. "I have always admired Jir's way with words. It makes him a formidable attorney, in and out of the courtroom. Not to mention a fascinating conversationalist, I'm told." Sdiz had trained as an attorney before switching to diplomacy. He was familiar with Jir's work on Vulcan and elsewhere. In his next free moment he planned to peruse the public records of Talljet, Inc. in order to admire the intricate web of legalities that would eventually return Rovirin, at least partially, to Talljet management. At this time, however, he simply rose from his comfortable chair and addressed the Terrans: "If you will excuse me, I will attempt to forge an agreement with the new masters of Rovirin." He paused, "If I can find them."

"Do you think the Klingons will fight?" Yakolev asked him.

"No."

"Why not?" Yakolev asked after an interval.

"They are intelligent enough to know that Rovirin is not worth starting an intergalactic war over," Sdiz said, heading for the door. "At this time," he added, gently closing it behind him.

* * *

"Pack up the Garrison; we're leaving," General Kzijiet ordered from his ship. He knew the Haats would be disappointed to lose this rich planet but less disappointed than with an all out war with the Federation over it. They left orbit four hours later.

* * *

"A shame to leave it," the Hierophant Kroldt said sadly to Master Khat as he took one last look at the cathedral. "But to stand in the path of a charging targ and try to reason with it is more foolish than flight," he quoted an old Klingon proverb. "Do you think they'll destroy it?"

"The cathedral? The Terrans?" Master Khat asked, he hadn't really been paying attention, his thoughts were on Master Ghet. "No, they haven't destroyed any other work they've inherited from us. They admire it even if they don't understand it. Why," he laughed, "they even turned one church into a theater."

Kroldt did not laugh, his thoughts had moved on already: "Do you think he's alive?" he asked.

"I certainly hope so, Master, I pray so."

"An excellent idea," Kroldt murmured and led MajaKhat to the front of the church to pray for the safe return of Master Gozine Gozshedrefreingin Ghet.

Two hours later the Commune loaded itself into the Hierophant's ships and was gone.

* * *

end of part 26

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

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