Title: After the Rescue

Part: NEW 37/73

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

Legend: * * * separates events in time; ~ separates events that are more or less simultaneous.

See part one for disclaimers, etc.

SaVoren and the Terran doctors found no one to save at the Talljet monastery. Castaris divided his doctors into two groups: one stayed at the monastery to bury the monks and in hopes that the boys would come out from hiding and the other went into town to look for them. The doctors had grown quite fond of the Talljets as they had come to call Hobie, Jir, Maja and Ling.

Seeing the monks' bodies would be properly disposed of, Voren went straight to Kzost's mansion and had an argument with the Klingon on gate duty.

"Will you just tell Commodore Kzost that I want to know if he knows where the Talljets are," Voren patiently explained for the fifth time. "Please," he added.

"Commodore Kzost is not to be disturbed."

"He will want to be disturbed by this," Voren insisted.

"Commodore Kzost is not to be disturbed."

Voren almost despaired. "Look, this is very important. I must speak to Commodore Kzost this instant."

"Commodore Kzost is not to be disturbed."

Even Voren's Vulcan patience had reached its limit.

"Is there a problem here, Ensign?" Khatanya strolled up to the gate.

"This Rom wants to see Commodore Kzost and can't understand 'No,' sir," the sluggard ensign replied.

Khatanya looked Voren over. "I've seen you but I don't know you. What's your business here?"

"I want to know if Kzost knows where the Talljets are," Voren said again.

"Commodore Kzost is not ...," the ensign began.

"Yes, yes, we know, Ensign, we know," Khatanya cut him off and turned to Voren. "Well, you look harmless; come up to the house with me." He waved the gate open and the Vulcan to his side.

They walked up to the house in silence. Khatanya led the Vulcan inside and up a flight of stairs. He asked him to wait outside a heavily guarded door and had a few words with someone inside. Khatanya stuck his head out and gestured Voren to enter.

Kzost was pacing in front of a fire in what Voren assumed was the Klingon's extravagant bedroom. Fur rugs, a huge curtained bed, wall hangings, paintings and massive intricately carved furniture were arranged with a pleasing Vulcanesque simplicity. But Voren had things other than decor on his mind.

"Do you know where the Talljet boys are?" he asked with Vulcan bluntness.

"They're taking a bath," Kzost answered, equally blunt. "In there," he gestured to the bathroom behind his guest. "Brandy, Vulcan? You look like shit."

"Yes, I will," Voren said, distracted by Hobie standing at the bathroom door, wrapped in a towel. Voren stepped nearer to look into the child's haunted eyes. "What happened, Hobie?"

Hobie looked at Kzost, who nodded and shrugged at the same time.

"Some Klingons came and took us," Hobie said awkwardly in Klingon. "They took me and Jir and Ling. Maja got away. Later, Maja brought Kzost and we came here." Sensing Kzost would not want Voren to know about it, Hobie omitted the violence he and his brothers had witnessed.

Voren sipped his brandy as he waited for Hobie to continue and said, "I see" when the boy did not continue.

"Are they dead?" Hobie asked at length. "Father Polmira and the monks? Are they dead?"

"Yes, Hobie, they're dead," Voren said quietly.

Hobie looked at the carpet for a moment to master himself. He had not cried in a long time, he had almost forgotten how to do it, but he thought he might cry for those old men. But later; there were more important things to do now.

"Then the bodies must be ...," he began.

"The Terrans are burying them," Voren interrupted. "Tomorrow I'll take you and show you."

Hobie nodded and turned back into the bathroom.

"Can you keep them here tonight, Kzost?" Voren asked, finishing his brandy and accepting another.

"That was my intention, Vulcan," Kzost said, pouring for him. "What did you find at the monastery?"

"Slaughter," Voren said flatly, looking the Klingon in the eye.

"I didn't do it, Voren," Kzost calmly assured him.

"No, I did not think so. Who did?"

"Someone who was suddenly called away on urgent business," Kzost rumbled, exchanging looks with Khatanya, who echoed 'very urgent business.'

"I'm sorry about those old men," Kzost continued. "They were ... harmless ... and they were looking after the Talljets and Maja liked them, he told me that once. He thought they were funny - they made him laugh." Kzost paused, wondering what would ever make Maja laugh again. He further wondered what exactly he was going to do with these four half Mage children tomorrow. This had not occurred to him in the rush of the evening.

They were distracted by two Klingons bearing a mattress and blankets. Khatanya directed them to put it all near the fire.

"Look, Voren," Kzost said, suddenly feeling how tired he was. "I'll keep the Talljets tonight. They can make a nest over there and they'll be safe here, I promise you. For us, for now - will you please come back in the morning when we can discuss the future or whatever you like."

The Vulcan hesitated, where would he put the children even if he could get them out of here? Also, he trusted Kzost, if not the Klingons around him and, more importantly, the Talljets trusted Kzost.

"Yes, I'll return in the morning," Voren said, tired himself and wanting to tell the Terrans to stop looking for the children. "I've promised Hobie I'd take him and his brothers to see how the monks are buried so I will come early."

"I shall await you, Vulcan," Kzost said suavely.

Voren bowed and left him, musing on how the Klingon would react to the knowledge that those are some of the sexiest words a Vulcan could hear.

"I'll leave word you're to be admitted," Khatanya told him at the gate. "If you have any problems give the guard this." He handed Voren his card. "And have them find me; I'll be around. Night, Vulcan." The Captain turned and strode up the path, his cape swinging behind him.

Voren put the card in his pocket and wondered yet again what a bizarre combination of fierceness and tenderness this particular group of Klingons was. He dismissed this idle speculation and walked into the night to find the searching Terrans.

~

"See if you can get the blood out of these rags," Kzost said, handing the Talljets' clothes to his valet. "Or scare up some replacements."

The valet looked dubious of both prospects but took the rags and withdrew.

'No shame in being splashed with the blood of your enemies,' Kzost thought in a pragmatic Klingon fashion. Nevertheless, he hoped the Talljets were not upset by what they saw this evening - they were rather sheltered in the monastery.

'Which has burned to the ground and everyone is dead so where the hell will they live now?' He was frowning in thought when the Talljets wandered out, wrapped in towels.

"Where're our clothes, Klingon?" Hobie asked politely.

"Sent to be cleaned; they had blood on them."

"Whose blood?" Maja asked.

"Klingon blood," Kzost informed him, remembering that Maja's rags had dark green blood stains as well as the purple Klingon blood. 'What did you see tonight, my Maja?' Kzost wondered. He shook himself - someday Maja would tell him or not tell him, until then it was none of his business.

"Are you hungry?" Kzost asked.

He got three no's; Ling was asleep again.

"All right, you Talljets, go sleep over there by the fire. You should be warm enough. It's late, go to sleep."

The Talljets, Hobie carrying Ling, wandered over to the pile of blankets and burrowed in. They were very very still, waiting for Kzost to go to sleep so they could make their move.

When they heard him snoring behind his curtains, the Talljets crept into bed next to him. They were still shaken by the night's events and felt safer sleeping close to the big Klingon.

Toward dawn, Kzost dreamed he was falling off a freezing cliff and woke to find himself clinging to the very edge of his own bed, which was now dominated by the Talljet brothers.

'Oh, well, it's time to get up anyway,' Kzost thought as he tried to rise but could not as Maja had his arms around Jir's neck and his hands tangled in the Klingon's long black hair. 'On second thought, perhaps I'll just lie here a while longer.' He spooned around Jir, sleeping between him and Maja. He noted that the Talljets slept as they moved in the bazaar: the younger ones between the elder for safety.

'Wise formation,' Kzost thought, watching the Talljets sleep and finally dozed off himself.

Somewhat later Kzost's valet brought in his breakfast, which the Talljets ate for him, and new clothes for the children. Kzost never asked where the clothes came from but he doubled the valet's annual bonus that year for such resourcefulness.

The Klingon dressed and went down to the kitchen to find something to eat, the Talljets on his heels.

Khatanya looked up from his tea, amused, at their entrance.

"They're like little hounds following their dam, sir," he smiled at Kzost and got a withering glare in return. "You could teach them to hunt," Khatanya continued undeterred.

"Only if they're hunting you, Khatanya," Kzost growled. "That might be interesting for us, eh, boys?"

The Talljets looked at Khatanya with interest for a moment before turning their full attention to more food.

After breakfast, Kzost herded them into the garden and showed them his office window.

"Look, I have things to do today so you have to play out here," he informed them, gesturing to the huge garden. "But you can see me in there and if you need me, just tap on the window."

They nodded and began to explore the garden, one of them, however, always checking on Kzost's location.

Kzost himself was checking on them periodically from his office but managed to get some work done in spite of it.

A short while later, Khatanya ushered Voren into Kzost's office.

"Stay, Captain, sit down," Kzost told Khatanya. "You might as well hear what's said."

Khatanya settled himself in a chair just behind Voren's peripheral vision.

"Well, Vulcan, what shall I do with these children?" Kzost asked.

"Can you not keep them? They trust you."

"You know very little of modern Klingon social structures," Kzost informed him. "Vulcanoids in a Klingon household are a dangerous mix. If a superior officer, member of the clergy or Imperial family were to ask for them, I would not be in a position to refuse. And if we are honest with each other we know that Hobie and Jir are already rather pretty and will cause trouble wherever they go."

Voren nodded and decided against telling Kzost of the angry trader calling the Klingon a thief and murderer late last night. Dr. Romsky had punched the man in the nose when he realized what 'merchandise' the slaver was talking about.

"Perhaps there is a solution," Voren said quietly. "As you know, the Terran doctors have been observing the Talljets from a distance since Maja was attacked ..."

"Observing?"

"You frighten them, Commodore, so they don't get too close to the children," Voren said. "And the Talljets are," he paused, looking for a suitable word in Klingonese, "skittish. Except for brazen Maja, who marched up to their door. The children have noticed the Terrans' attention .."

"How have they noticed it?" Kzost was puzzled that he had not noticed the Terrans around the Talljets.

"It's subtle," Voren said patiently at yet another interruption. "They make eye contact mainly, Maja waves at them and disappears into the crowd." He did not mention that he once overheard Dr. Duvallier, a exo-zoologist, suggest setting up a blind in the bazaar to observe the Talljets because they behaved more like urban scavengers than sentient beings. Dr. Wilton, a exo-anthropologist, had commented that that was due to the primitive social structure of Magidrian that had no place for orphans except the streets.

"I believe the Terrans would take them in," Voren continued. "Dr. Castaris suggested it last night and this morning he, Dr. Romsky, Dr. MacQuarrie and Dr. Duvallier agreed to be responsible for the Talljets," he paused. "Here and wherever."

"I believe I've met MacQuarrie," Kzost rumbled to give himself a moment to consider what had just been said. "What do you mean 'wherever'?"

"The Terrans are willing to adopt, raise and educate the Talljets as their legal children."

Kzost and Khatanya exchanged looks. Adoption on Klingon was somewhat different, usually having to do with hostage taking. Khatanya's name in fact meant 'guest of the Khats' in honor of the fact one or more of his significant ancestors had been a hostage, and then ally, of the ancient now defunct, Imperial clan.

"What do you think of this, Vulcan?" Kzost asked at length.

"I am in favor of it unless you have a better plan."

"No. All I thought was giving them money and a place to live near the bazaar. They're pretty good at looking after themselves." Kzost slowed down, remembering that the monks had looked after the Talljets. "But they are still children and probably need more supervision than I can give them." 'Especially MajaYaja the wild one,' he added to himself.

"I agree with you, Klingon, they do need supervision as well as guidance. Maja appears to be out of control already ..."

"Ooooh, nooooo. He's just ... high spirited." Kzost didn't like to hear Maja criticized even if he agreed with it.

Voren gave the Klingon a piercing look and continued: "At any rate, all the Talljets need a stable and safe place to live. I have spent some time with these Terrans since Maja was treated in their lab. I feel that they are serious and sober men, Castaris and Duvallier have raised their own children to adulthood, Romsky has a son and a daughter near Maja's age, MacQuarrie comes from a large family where he had younger siblings ..."

"How do you know this, Vulcan?"

"I listen to what people say to me."

Kzost, impressed by this answer, suppressed a smile and looked at Voren with appreciation. 'Sometimes,' he thought, 'this Vulcan says the most adorable things.'

"And you think these Terrans are reliable, honest, upstanding and worthy of the Talljets?" Kzost asked, breaking into his own reverie.

"Yes. It is also my opinion that the Talljets are worthy of the Terrans and have the potential to be reliable, honest and upstanding, as well."

"You don't think Maja and his brothers are that now?" Kzost asked menacingly.

Voren took an extra nanosecond to phrase his diplomatic reply: "I believe they are rather rough around the edges." He was subtly gratified to hear Kzost grunt with laughter.

"What do you think, Khatanya?" Kzost asked.

"I think it's a good plan, if the Talljets are willing," Khatanya said simply.

"What do you think of the Terrans?"

"Mostly harmless."

"And these particular Terrans?"

"Completely harmless."

"Ah. Well, let's see what Hobie thinks. His brothers, even out-of-control-Maja, will do what he tells them to do."

Kzost nodded, rose and opened his window. He leaned out and waved Hobie over. He stepped back to allow the youth to climb into the room.

"Hullo, Rom," Hobie addressed Voren in halting Klingonese. "Are we going now?" he asked, referring to the visit to the monks' graves they planned to make.

"Presently, Hobie," Voren said, "will you please sit down for a moment?"

Hobie glanced at Kzost, who nodded, and perched on the edge of the chair nearest the window.

'Always poised for flight, aren't you Hobie?' Voren thought. "The Terrans who helped Maja would like to give you and your brothers a home," he said bluntly.

"Can't we stay here?" Hobie asked Kzost.

The Klingon shook his head. "I cannot protect you here for any length of time, Hobie. We Klingons are not angels and you and Jir already have 'admirers' among my officers. I cannot keep my escort around you and your brothers day and night; sooner or later 'something' would happen. You can't throw a match into straw without getting a fire."

Hobie looked at Khatanya for a second opinion. The captain smiled grimly and nodded.

"What kind of home?" Hobie asked Voren.

"A good one," the Vulcan answered, relieved that Hobie would consider it. "You will have food, clothing, shelter and they will teach you what they can."

"And in exchange?" Hobie asked. He was old enough to have been propositioned in the bazaar once or twice and was wary of any kind of offer.

"You obey them," Voren paused to watch a stubborn frown flit over Hobie's pure features. "As you obeyed the monks and Father Polmira." The Vulcan knew that the Talljets boys and the Talljet monks had come to some kind of understanding about obedience in the monastery and hoped Hobie would translate that to this situation. Voren was glad to see that this was what the youth appeared to be doing.

"Hobie, look," Kzost said after the silence had gone on too long for him. "You're old enough to know something of life so let's be blunt. First of all, you and Jir are now as strong if not stronger than these Terrans and in a few years Maja and Ling will be that strong too so you can fight your way out of anything. Second, these Terrans know that and they are taking a helluva risk taking you in. They must trust you for some reason, perhaps they've seen enough of you in the bazaar to believe they can live in harmony with you. Third, as long as you and I are here, if something happens or you think something is going to happen, come to me and I'll kill everyone."

Voren winced mentally as Hobie nodded, indicating that Kzost's sound but inelegant argument made perfect sense to him. Hobie looked at the Vulcan: "Will you wait for us, Rom? I'll go get Jir and we will go to .... to there." Hobie jerked his chin in the direction of the burned monastery. "Maja does not want to go and Ling wants to stay with him," he said, rising. "I will think about what you have said to me and talk to my brothers." He climbed out the window and was gone.

The three adults sat in silence, mulling over Hobie's gracious offer to consider his only real option.

"Bring them back at midday for lunch, Vulcan," Kzost drawled, mainly to break up the silence.

"The Terrans would like them to lunch with them at the lab," Voren answered blandly.

"If they are willing," Kzost offered. "If not, perhaps they'll accompany you there later in the afternoon."

"Will you speak to Maja about this, Klingon?"

"No. I won't set him against Hobie," Kzost answered. "Whatever happens, the Talljets will still have each other and it would be foolish to cause dissension among them."

'Klingons,' Voren thought, 'more for solidarity than sense.'

They all rose as Hobie and Jir came in through the door this time. Khatanya saw the trio to the gate and watched them walk half way up the hill to the burned out shell of the Talljet monastery before he turned back to his duties.

~

"Now the monks are gone away. Where do we live now, Nolo?"

"I don't know. NoloJir and NoloHobie will tell us very soon, I think. Do not worry, Noli, god will still look after us."

At midmorning, Kzost's valet, unbidden, brought a tray of hot drinks and muffins to the tree where Maja and Ling were lurking. He pretended not to see them peeking at him through the leaves and walked away as if it were perfectly natural to leave food and drink at the foot of a tree.

Maja and Ling enjoyed the tea and half the muffins - they saved the other half for Hobie and Jir.

Hobie and Jir lunched with the Terrans and Voren and decided to accept the Terrans' offer for as long as it worked out. The Talljets moved into Star Fleet Scientific Mission #86-543 that evening and began to learn Standard. Drs. Arthur Castaris, Gregor Romsky, James MacQuarrie, and Paul Duvallier sent messages to Star Fleet legal to process the paperwork for an offworld adoption.

* * *

"It's a hell, Klingon, you can't imagine," Maja said in Romulan, sitting across from Kzost at the Commodore's usual table in the cafe.

"How so, my Maja?" Kzost asked the sleek little half Mage in the same language and snapped his fingers for the waiter. "What will you have, child?"

"The usual," Maja informed him, tossing his curls off his shoulder.

Kzost sent the waiter for tea and sliced fruit instead of cake because Maja was starting to look a little fat. Obviously the Terrans were feeding him enough.

"What's the problem, little one?"

"They want me to stay in at night."

"I, too, want you to stay in at night," Kzost told him, remembering how disconcerting it had been to find Maja running errands for one of his favorite brothels. "You're, what? - nine years old? - You're too young to be in the streets after dark."

Maja eyed him narrowly. "I think Devlenisia," he drawled the name of the prostitute Kzost had been visiting that night, "is very pretty."

"Oh, was that her name?" Kzost was momentarily distracted by the memory of looking up from the girl between his legs and into Maja's curious little face that night. He pulled himself together. "I agree; she's pretty. But let's leave her out of this. You and Dr. MacQuarrie have an agreement - he cares for your body and mind and you obey his rules. Your brothers do not have a problem with this."

"And if I don't obey his rules?"

"I don't know. Perhaps he will not keep you..."

"I'd go live with Devlenisia," Maja said pertly. "Or you," he added seriously.

"Maja," Kzost said patiently. "We have had this conversation several times and the answer is the same: you cannot live with me. Besides, in your heart, you don't want to leave your brothers for me or pretty Devlenisia."

"You're prettier than she is," Maja told him.

"Ah. I thank you, child." Kzost nodded graciously. "But, look, you, I'm serious, I want you to obey your Terran. This is a good deal you've got, MajaYaja - don't screw it up!"

Maja pouted. "I hate this name he has for me."

Kzost ignored the pout with difficulty - Maja was irresistible when he pouted. "What is it again? Mokle, Muckel?"

"Michael James."

"Umm, yes, disgusting," Kzost agreed. "But who cares what he calls you as long as it's not late for dinner, you foolish thing?"

"You're not being serious, Klingon, I..."

"I'M not being serious, half Mage? You have the best deal of any ex-street boy in the history of this quadrant and I'M NOT BEING SERIOUS?"

Maja, sensing he was near the outer boundaries of this Klingon's remarkable patience, sat back and sipped his tea. He looked over the bazaar and wondered if Kzost would buy him some more paper.

"I've drawn on all my paper, Klingon, will you buy me some more?" he asked, changing the subject.

Kzost rolled his eyes. "No. Not if you won't stay home at night, Maja."

"Okay, I'll stay home."

"I mean that. I'll know if you don't."

"How?"

"There are lots of Klingons here and they all know you Talljets by sight. I have only to ask." Kzost stared Maja down with ease. "However, I will not ask if you give me your word of honor that you'll stay home at night."

Maja knew this was serious so he gave it some thought. He looked up at this Klingon he loved with all his heart and saw concern in the deep set eyes. He lowered his eyes: "All right, Klingon, I give you my word of honor that I will stay home at night but only because you ask me."

Kzost raised Maja's chin with his index finger: "And will you give me your word that you will try to obey MacQuarrie to the best of your abilities?"

Maja rolled his eyes. "I do."

"Good then." Kzost gave Maja's aquiline nose a playful tug. "What kind of paper do you want?"

"I don't want any," Maja looked at him with eyes far older than his years. "I just want to please you."

"You do, my Maja, you do."

* * *

end of part 37

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

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