Title: After the Rescue

Part: NEW 29/73

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.

Maja stood and followed him, looking at houses, shops and cafes as they went.

"It's rather pretty here, isn't it?" Maja said looking at the brightly painted houses he would later learn were on the outer rim of the pleasure district. He happily noted a wide variety of well dressed beings here.

He was somewhat relieved to see so many vulcanoids about, whether they be Roms, Xochians, Nzrealians, or whatnot - Sarek and he blended right in. The downside was that if one of these other vulcanoids wanted to engage Sarek in conversation in their supposed native tongue, the Vulcan would have to do some pretty nimble thinking. The three languages Maja knew Sarek had, Vulcan, Standard and Klingonese, were useless, even dangerous, here.

'Well, if that happens, I guess he'll have to stick to Patois and act stupid until they go away,' Maja thought calmly.

They walked on, pausing to look at print media they could not read and listen to broadcasts they could not understand. They shared the last of the water tabs; they saw, unfortunately, no public drinking fountains. Maja wondered if they only existed in the more peaceful suburbs. They came to another bazaar and moved near a pair of traders speaking in Patois.

"... looking for the invaders, can't get his goods off the planet and the whole shipment rotting on the spacedock. The Tziviians are grabbing anyone they think might have come in those three little ships so it's a bad time to try to get offworld. Me, I could care less, I've got enough to keep me busy here for half a harag at least. Not to mention that pretty little RomCheq gyharine to keep me warm at night. My transport is with a Tziviians freighter anyway and this mess will have died away by the time I need to move the merch. Did you see how the price on yovlas jumped when the Tziviians rolled in and laid down the law this morning? I'm glad I have a warehouse full in Sosi and in a few days ..."

Maja looked around him and tried not to be too depressed by this news. He noted the light slanting into late afternoon and began to wonder if they shouldn't have stayed with the redheaded widow.

Sarek was deadpan as usual but was rapidly formulating and rejecting plan after plan. Apparently they were stuck on Imk for a while but what they were to do there, he could not deduce.

As if seeking the peace and beauty of the pretty streets they'd just left, the pair moved back into them. Late afternoon light bathed them in a soft and inviting glow. They paused in a small square to listen to an unseen musician practicing on some kind of stringed instrument.

Maja settled Sarek on a bench and told him to expect the unexpected. He realized that they would need to find a place to sleep and for that they needed money. The MageCheq had also decided he had no pride left and singing in the street was not exactly begging. And even if it was, so what? They still needed money from something. He listened to the string player launch into an old Patois song and began to sing.

'Expect the unexpected indeed, Maja,' Sarek thought ruefully, secretly pleased to hear again one of the most beautiful voices he ever knew. He recalled Maja singing on Vulcan, accompanied by Spock in their home, and how he left his office door ajar to hear him. Maja's voice had even made Spock's mediocre lyre playing sublime. It was a pure, clear voice that went straight through you and suspended time itself.

Hearing such an incredible singer, the musician had come to his window above the cafe to have a look and very much liked what he saw. Others came to their doors and windows to see where such fine music was coming from. Passersby stopped, enchanted, and lingered.

The hardest part for Maja was to look them in the eye and hold out his hand. Nobody refused him and he soon had a fist full of small change. He shoved it into his pockets and launched into another song with the string player. He moved around the circle of listeners, collecting more and more small change.

'What a terrible way to get money,' Maja thought as he moved clockwise through his rapt audience. He suddenly found himself face to face with a little fat humanoid male in a long black jacket offering him a hot drink. Maja thanked him in Patois and took it directly to Sarek. He returned to his singing. Extremely pretty women in second story windows threw down coins wrapped in lace undergarments with their names written on them. Maja blushed and shoved the offerings down into the pockets of the redhead's dead husband's coat.

Still playing for Maja, the musician came down into the cafe, where he conferred with the little fat man in the long black jacket, who was the cafe owner. After a few moments of discussion, the cafe owner walked over to Sarek and engaged him in conversation.

Maja continued to sing and move through the crowd until he found his way blocked by a large humanoid male in a fur coat.

"Gyharine (boy for sale)," he snarled.

Maja stepped back from him and moved off or tried to.

The humanoid moved around in front of him.

"Gyharine," he said, "how much?"

Maja shook his head and moved away again.

The man grabbed his hair and jerked him back: "I said, how much?"

Maja swung round to fight but was gently restrained.

"Not for sale," Sarek dryly informed the man in Patois.

Still holding Maja by his hair, the man stared at Sarek for a moment: "Everything's for sale in Bikz, sait."

"Not him. Not now," Sarek said blandly, never taking his eyes off the being.

The humanoid, deciding he could likely take the gyharine but not the gyharine and the sait both, shook Maja's hair out of his hand, adjusted his fur coat and walked away.

"Come, Maja." Sarek guided him through the crowd to the cafe.

Seeing the show was over, the crowd began to move off. Maja noticed the musician and the man who'd given him the hot drink moving through the dispersing crowd, handing out little cards.

Sarek led him to a table in the cafe where a waitress was putting out plates and pouring hot tea.

"Pretty voice, pretty one," she sighed at him.

"Thank you," Maja said quietly, sipping his tea.

The musician, a tall, lean humanoid, flung himself into a chair next to him and pulled Maja's hand to his lips: "Really amazing voice you have, little one." He continued to hold Maja's hand and look deeply into his eyes. "What songs do you know so I can tell the rest of the band?"

Deeply puzzled, Maja turned his head to look at Sarek, looking at him.

"I have made a trade with the cafe owner, Maja," Sarek informed him. "Dinner, a place to sleep tonight and breakfast tomorrow morning in exchange for an evening's entertainment."

Maja's eyes got big. To him 'an evening's entertainment' was something you got at Ling's whorehouse.

"Singing," the musician, seeing Maja's confusion and wondering at the sait's choice of words, put in. "Just singing."

"Oh," Maja said, sipping more tea. "Okay." He turned to the musician, an UshtazCheq, and told him the names of all the Patois songs he knew. The UshtazCheq disappeared for a moment, returned with some lyrics and began to teach Maja some new songs.

The waitress brought their food and lingered to listen to the music.

"Let them eat, Ovri, let them eat," the cafe owner told him in Patois. "You can teach him some new songs later." He sat to admire Maja. "My name is Vmormi, you caused quite a sensation out there, little one. Let's see if you can do it again tonight."

"Thank you. I'll try," Maja said simply.

"What's your name?" Vmormi asked him.

"Maja," he was told.

Noting Maja's vulcanoid features, Vmormi complained that every third RomCheq in the galaxy was named Maja. "Is that all the name you have?" he asked.

"Well," Maja said slowly as he considered and rejected several aliases. "Some people call me MajaYaja."

"Not bad," Vmormi mused, "easy to remember, too."

Maja merely smiled at him and began to eat the spicy vegetable matter before him.

"Your sait drives a hard bargain but I'm sure you're worth it," Vmormi said with a twinkle. "You're not a gyharine, are you?" he added hopefully.

"No, he is not," Sarek said quietly.

'Not yet,' Maja thought ruefully.

Vmormi and Ovri gave Maja a long look and said, 'ah,' wistfully.

Maja and Sarek fell to eating as they were very hungry by that time.

MajaYaja was a moderate success that night. The magic of the street singer was lost in the dim lights of the cafe, alas. It was a good performance, but not, however, good enough for Vmormi to offer them more food and accommodation.

After a substantial breakfast (the waitress liked Maja's singing very much and was inclined to be generous with Vmormi's food), Maja and Sarek left the cafe and found a quiet bench on which to consider the immediate future.

They counted up their money, which consisted of what Maja had gotten yesterday in the street plus his share of the band's tips, and realized it would not get them very far. The pair wandered the streets again, listening to more Patois gossip about the Tziviians continuing to search for the 'invaders' and not allowing anyone offworld. They heard rumors of another 'invader' that was captured and tortured to death.

To take their minds off this bad news, they window shopped in an effort to gain some understanding of the monetary situation here.

Late that afternoon Maja made a decision he had hoped not to make. He further hoped he'd learned something from Jir and Kroldt about negotiation.

He and Sarek had drifted into the cheaper section of the Pleasure district. The crowd here was rougher but Maja, scanning surreptitiously, found it vastly more interesting. It was full of pimps, whores and gyharines, of course, but also smugglers, thieves and dealers in contraband of all kinds. Even the beggars, street vendors and urchins seemed to be in the know about what was what in Bikz.

"Gyharine."

Maja found his way blocked by a huge vulcanoid male. After a quick scan, Maja nodded.

"How much?"

Sarek began to refuse but Maja silenced him with a wave of his hand.

"Thirty thousand bvojas," Maja said tartly, knowing from his window shopping this was the lower end of the luxury vehicle price range.

"Very funny, pretty one," the vulcanoid snarled. "The max I ever pay is ten bvojas for the night."

"Then go find someone for ten bvojas," Maja snapped and started to turn.

"Twenty."

"Never."

"Fifty."

"Forget it.

"Seventy-five."

"A hundred."

"Eighty."

"Ninety."

"Eighty-five."

"No. Ninety." Maja looked pointedly off into the distance and then back. "No less and you pay for the room and he," jerking his chin at Sarek, "comes with us."

"Done." The vulcanoid grabbed Maja by the elbow and marched him to his room; Sarek following. Once inside, he threw Maja onto the bed and himself on top of him.

Maja, more irritated than alarmed, pulled off a glove and placed his right hand in meld position. The vulcanoid went very still and Maja quickly explored the contents of his mind. And rather interesting they were: even smugglers couldn't get on and off Imk at the moment; the old head of his gang had been killed recently in a knife fight and the new one had yet to be declared; there was a big crystal robbery planned for two or ten days hence - the rumor was that the great Obsta Fira was planning it with his gang but the transport problems were worrying, even for him, and; ninety bvojas was a hell of a lot for a plain little gyharine, pretty brown eyes and a river of black curls down his back notwithstanding, but this one had 'something' and was probably worth it.

"Sleep," Maja said, easing the vulcanoid to the floor and into a deep, deep sleep. He looked around the room and decided the punter was saving money by bringing them to his own room. Maja wondered briefly if he and old Sarek appeared so harmless that the vulcanoid would take such a stupid risk. He looked up at Sarek still standing next to the closed door.

"Are you wise to do this, Maja?" Sarek asked him blandly. "It is distasteful."

Maja sighed. "No, probably not wise," he said after a moment, "and it is distasteful, but I don't know what else to do." Night and the temperature were falling outside. "I think we should stay here tonight, Sait."

"What about him?" Sarek seated himself in the only chair. He was more tired than he wanted Maja to notice.

"He'll sleep until morning at least," Maja said wearily and rose. He looked around the room again; it was clean and neat. He thought back to his perusal of the punter's mind. He recalled that the vulcanoid had been crew with the Iprivian (whoever they were) Merchant Marine and had obviously retained the tidy ways of spacers everywhere. Regra was the vulcanoid's name and he had been in the mean streets of Bikz for three quarters of a harag. He was proud to be a member of the Guara gang, which was, in his opinion, the smartest, toughest gang in the city.

Maja idly pondered these trivial facts as he looked about for some food. He found a half loaf of black bread and some fruit that reminded him of Vulcan pommes. He gave half of the food to Sarek and ate his share standing by the window, watching the darkening street.

'What next, MajaYaja?' he asked himself, knowing he had no answer and trying to keep his spirits up in spite of it. He closed the curtains and lit a lamp. The little room was almost cozy by lamplight, only the huge sleeping Regra stretched out on the floor added a surreal touch to the scene. He stepped over the sleeper and went out into the hall where he learned there was a public bath in the basement of the building and they could afford it.

After making sure Regra would stay asleep in their absence, Maja and Sarek descended to the bath, which was simple, clean and had lots of very hot water and steam. They stretched out on the belly stone and observed the other patrons, all men of various ages and species.

"Gyharine," a youngish humanoid said to Maja. He nodded to Sarek, assuming the older man was his pimp. Why else were they there together?

Maja gestured to the ceiling: "I'm engaged this evening."

"Oh, hochofedra (oh well, too bad for me, good evening)." the humanoid shrugged and returned to his seat.

Maja looked into Sarek's eyes and thought he saw the faintest shadow of amusement there.

"What are you laughing at Sar.. Sait?," Maja murmured.

"Nothing, Maja, nothing," Sarek said quietly, feeling the heat drive out the chill in his legs and enjoying it. "You play your part rather well, that is all."

'Humph' was all Maja had to say to that.

They were silent for a while, listening to the murmur of male voices and enjoying the peace of the place.

"What do the marks on your hands signify, Maja?" Sarek asked him after a few moments. He had also noted that Maja's right shoulder was larger than his left and correctly assumed it was from cutting stone.

"They identify me, my owners and my skills," Maja answered truthfully and fell silent.

Sarek lowered his voice: "Are they Klingon characters? I have never seen such like them."

"They're old Church Klingon runes," Maja whispered, rising to leave. "Most modern Klingons cannot read them either, only clerics and certain laypeople associated with the Commune."

They dressed and returned to the room where Regra slept on peacefully. Maja and Sarek decided to emulate him and curled up in his bed together.

"Were you well treated in the Commune?" Sarek asked quietly.

"Yes, very well treated," Maja said sleepily and dropped off.

'And if we live, will you return to it?' Sarek wondered as he, too, fell asleep.

In the morning Maja took ninety bvojas out of Regra's pocket and spun him a memory of the most beautiful night of love the vulcanoid had ever experienced. They left him smiling in his dream of pleasure that never happened to him.

Outside, they walked through the early morning, workaday streets of Bikz. This district was called Qoz and at this hour it looked almost respectable. Vendors were selling hot drinks and steaming rolls. Produce carts were rushing around to sell their fruit and vegetables to the cafes and bordello cooks. Except for the occasional drunk or corpse, the street seemed like any other street they'd seen so far in Bikz.

They bought two hot ciders and retired to a sheltered spot to plan their day.

Maja divided the money between them.

"Perhaps you should keep it, Maja," Sarek suggested.

"No. It's better for you to have half," Maja said. "If something happens to me you'll need money."

"If something happens to you, Maja, I will need more than money," Sarek told him dryly.

Maja smiled grimly and did something Sarek had only seen him do to Spock when they thought they were unobserved: Maja leaned over and butted Sarek's shoulder with his forehead.

They sat in silence drinking the hot tart drinks and watched the weak sun try to warm up the day.

"Gyharine."

Maja looked up at a brutish humanoid, scanned him and nodded. They negotiated a price, fifty bvojas, and walked off with Sarek in their wake.

Maja looked back and arched an eyebrow at the Vulcan. He didn't like dragging Sarek along on these expeditions but was more afraid of leaving him alone on the street.

The humanoid led them into a shop, behind the counter and into a storage room. He yanked Maja into his arms and then went very still under Maja's Vulcan trained fingers.

Sarek looked away as Maja eased his 'client' to the floor. He turned his attention to the storeroom shelves. They were full of bottles and packages of food or so he assumed from the pictures on the wrappings.

"Sleep a while," Maja cooed as he took fifty Bvojas out of the brute's pocket. He stood and wandered about the room, inspecting its shelves and putting whatever caught his fancy into his pockets.

Sarek looked on impassively. "Shall we go, Maja?" he asked after a moment.

"Not yet," Maja said, offering him a cookie out of the package and eating one himself. "Enough time has to go by so he can believe we did what he thinks we did."

Sarek nodded; it was logical.

Maja handed him twenty-five bvojas and a few minutes later they left the storeroom and the sleeping, smiling humanoid.

By mid afternoon Maja had made enough money to rent them a modest room in the better part of Qoz. That evening, when Maja returned from 'work', they were able to sleep more peacefully knowing they had a roof to call their own for the time being.

* * *

Mr. Yrit and Mr. Gvo found their way into the Tziviian Autonomous Zone impeded by the waves of paranoia radiating throughout it. They guided their ship slowly around the edges of the Sargasso space, feeling either for a passage through the rage or waiting for it to burn itself out. Yrit and Gvo themselves seldom bothered with emotions, especially those like rage, joy, fear, love, awe, or despair. They were a waste of time and weakened their pure vision of the emanations of the universe.

They did not hurry; they never hurried. They were born knowing that there was no such thing as time.

***

end of part 29

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

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