Title: After the Rescue
Part: NEW 39/73
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.
"I have spoken to my family, they are willing to act as a foster family to the Talljets on Vulcan. The doctors are willing to transfer their guardianship and it is all a matter of putting the paperwork in order," Voren finished simply, wryly wishing it were so simple. He'd spoken to his great aunt SaGolia, next in line to be matriarch, and asked her to convince the current matriarch, T'Prol, to call in some favors and get the Talljets Vulcan visas and residencies based on the trumped up fact that Voren's great uncle, the respected Vulcan linguist, SaBrzia, was willing to have the half Mages in his household of linguists to study the mysterious Magidrian Patois. This subterfuge was necessary due to the fact the Vulcan immigration authorities did not recognize acts of mercy as valid reasons for settling offworlders on Vulcan. It would succeed because of T'Prol's pull, SaBrzia's reputation and the Vulcan Interplanetary Ministry and the Vulcan Institute's interest in a crucial galactic language that could not be deciphered in the field.
Voren now faced his biggest hurdle: Commodore KzostGhet.
The Commodore had listened patiently to Voren, occasionally glancing at Khatanya, seated behind the Vulcan, but mostly trying to conceal his aching back. The first morning of the Talljets' residency, the Klingon had woken to find all four of them sleeping in the armchair with him. He'd finally given in and simply slept in the bed with them, which was uncomfortable because of the odd positions they twisted him into in the course of the night. Kzost would also have kept more distance between himself and Maja but the child would not sleep anywhere but the Klingon's chest. 'I must be a saint by now,' he thought grimly, staring at Voren.
Kzost was concerned about the Talljets' mental welfare. Ling still hid and the others still guarded where he hid. In the four days since the incident, the children had not left his bedroom. Kzost brought them food but knew this could not go on forever. He was relieved that Voren might have a solution but dubious; Voren had had the previous solution and it was a disaster. He felt guilty that he had not anticipated it, that perhaps he should have interrogated the Vulcan more thoroughly. Should have. Should have. Should have.
"How can I know your cousins won't gang rape the Talljets five minutes after they arrive?" Kzost snarled. "I won't be there to rescue them again."
"They're Vulcans."
This was almost inarguable. In the history of modern Vulcan, rape, as Kzost defined it, was unheard of. It was one of the things that most annoyed the Klingons because during the Klingon-Vulcan war the Klingons had raped every Vulcan prisoner at least once as a matter of form. Kzost knew that Voren knew this and was grudgingly grateful that the Vulcan had chosen not to point it out.
Voren did not want a fight with Kzost. On the contrary, he would need all of Kzost's assistance to convince the Talljets to go peacefully to Vulcan with Castaris, Romsky, Duvallier and MacQuarrie when the starship Lexington arrived in three weeks.
"They're not quite right in the head anymore, Vulcan," Kzost said, referring to the Talljets. "It's like they've seen too much battle. I've seen it in soldiers but not in children, never in children." Kzost thought on Hobie's dead frozen eyes, Maja's haunted expression, Jir starting at nothing, and Ling, poor panicked Ling, trying to hide from a memory too huge and horrible to hide from. They only relaxed their vigilance when Kzost lay down with them, Maja, Ling and Jir, a little at least. Hobie was like an unsheathed blade, Khatanya had rightly said the other day - cold, sharp, deadly. "I am afraid," Kzost had never said those words before and he looked into Voren's eyes, "for them."
Something in Voren went very still as he looked into Kzost's naked eyes. In that moment he knew to the bottom of his soul that he'd waited all his life for this man. A Klingon; but that did not matter at all. With great effort, he pushed it aside to concentrate on the problem at hand.
"There are mental techniques," Voren said slowly, "my people can teach them to help them deal with their trauma. That and time in a safe environment is all I have to offer the Talljets now."
Kzost leaned back in his chair to come to grips with the logic of it. He hated logic - it reminded him of the battles the Klingons lost in the war with the Vulcans. He looked at Khatanya and asked the Captain what he thought.
"I'm afraid to say."
"Why?"
"Because I was wrong last time."
"We were all wrong last time, let us beg god to make us right this time."
Khatanya paused to beg god or phrase his answer or something, but it was a moment before he spoke: "I believe they would come to no physical harm but it's a fate worse than death to be a Vulcan."
Voren's heart sank, he knew Kzost would listen to this Klingon. Even Voren himself would listen to this Klingon. He inhaled to refute this argument but Kzost forestalled him with a gesture.
"Unfortunately," Khatanya continued. "I don't see what else can be done. The Terrans can't be trusted; leave them here and god knows what will happen; take them to Klingon and they'll all be barracks' whores or Imperial concubines before the year is out." He leaned forward to address Voren: "You can't make them into Vulcans, can you Vulcan?"
Voren turned his head slightly, still watching Kzost: "No and my family is an unusual modern Vulcan family."
"Oh? What are they like?" Kzost asked.
"Beyond obeying the civil laws, they believe individuals need not conform to society's rigid requirements. They value intelligence and education tempered by wisdom and compassion. They encourage their children to satisfy their own curiosity and appropriately question authority. They appreciate difference instead of merely tolerating it. They teach those in their care to use their own intelligence guided by experience. To see the terrain, not just look at it. They respect logic but do not worship it." Voren leaned back, strangely exhausted.
Kzost gazed thoughtfully at him, deeply impressed - he'd never heard a Vulcan speak from his heart. He did not know it was possible. Voren went up another notch in his esteem. 'This must be very important to you, Vulcan, to show yourself to me like that,' he thought.
Khatanya was not impressed: "There are no Vulcans like that."
"Open your eyes, Klingon, and see one in front of you," Kzost said rising. "Come with me, Vulcan, we will talk to the children together."
Voren followed him out of the office and up to Kzost's bedroom.
Kzost acknowledged his guards' salute and entered. Hobie, Jir and Maja, poised to spring, let their heels down but did not relax.
Seeing them, Voren felt a chill run up his spine. They looked at him like cornered animals; even the most gentle creature will turn to fight, in vain, when there is no other choice.
Kzost sat down on the floor, keeping several meters between them. He gestured for Voren to sit next to him.
The three Talljets continued to stand.
Kzost kept his eyes lowered as he addressed Hobie for all of them: "Hobie, I think you understand that no one now on this planet wanted Ling to be hurt. The man responsible is dead and the other has fled, may they both rot in hell forever. The only people here now want to help Ling as much as they can." He paused to swallow slowly. "We want to help all of you as much as we can."
The Talljets exchanged wary glances and then, surprisingly, Maja sat down between his brothers.
Kzost flicked him a grateful glance and continued: "I think you know that the offworlders are leaving Magidrian very soon. This is your home and we understand if you don't want to leave it. We do not know how you will survive if you stay here but if you wish to stay here, no one will try to stop you."
Jir sank gracefully to a cross-legged position on the floor next to Maja. Only Hobie remained standing.
Kzost continued: "We have found a place for you to live where you and your brothers will be safe. It is called Vulcan. It is Voren's home world. Everyone there is like Voren."
The Klingon paused to let that sink in - the Talljets rather liked Voren - and continued: "You and your brothers will live with Voren's family. He assures me they are good people and I believe him. I also promise you that if you need me I will come. There are Klingons on Vulcan and you have only to send me a message through them and I or Khatanya or someone we trust will come for you. I swear this on my honor as a Klingon."
Kzost didn't look up when Ling's little feet came into his line of vision and the child crawled into his lap. He put his arms around him in a light embrace and continued: "This is all I have to offer you and your brothers now, Hobie."
Kzost fell silent and waited for Hobie's decision. He knew he could take the youth and drag the Talljets to Vulcan but he valued their trust too much to do that.
Hobie sat down. "How are we to get there?" he asked.
"In a starship," Kzost replied vaguely.
"Yours?"
"No."
"Whose?"
"A Terran starship."
Like lightening, the elder Talljets sprang to their feet again and Ling flashed back to his hiding place.
Kzost cursed silently but did not move a muscle. He hoped Voren could defend himself if the children attacked because they would be a handful. He doubted they would attack but one must anticipate all possible scenarios in these situations.
"Are you mad, Klingon?" Hobie snarled.
"Hobie, there are good Terrans and there are bad Terrans, just as there are good Klingons and there are bad Klingons," Kzost answered, nicely dodging Hobie's original question. "Do you hate me and Khatanya because we are Klingons and Castaris, Romsky, MacQuarrie and Duvallier because they are Terrans? Or do you judge us by your experience with us? Can you trust us because of your experience with us? Can you, Hobie, will you? I can do nothing for you if you will not trust me. If I leave you here because you will not accept the best solution I can find, I do not know what will happen to you. Perhaps you and Jir will survive for a while but what will happen to Maja and Ling? And if you do survive and your brothers don't it will haunt you for the rest of your life. Just as leaving you here will haunt me for the rest of my life. Hobie, please," Kzost looked up into Hobie's frozen eyes, "if not for yourself then for the rest of us, please, think this over very seriously." He took a deep breath and exhaled: "And now, I'm going to get up and go down to my office. If you want to talk to me, the comm unit is there and you know how to use it."
Kzost rose with some effort, his old Klingon knees were not accustomed to sitting on floors to argue with fourteen year old MageCheqs. He tapped the still seated Vulcan on the shoulder.
"Come."
Voren looked up at him, rose in one fluid motion and followed.
"What now, Klingon?" he asked.
"We wait to hear what they decide," Kzost murmured vaguely, dividing his thoughts between the interview with Hobie Talljet, Voren's beautiful eyes and graceful carriage and why that was so interesting just now. 'Whatever happens,' he thought, 'I have got to get off this planet and away from these vulcanoids.'
They settled back in the office and Kzost called for tea. Khatanya brought it in, asked what happened and was told.
"You're the only Commodore in the Fleet that petitions half caste street boys like they were the Klingon Emperor," Khatanya observed.
Kzost sneered half-heartedly at him: "And you're the only tea-boy I know with Imperial Fleet Captain rank."
Voren kept his eyes demurely lowered as he listened to Khatanya grunt good-naturedly. He was also keeping his eyes lowered so Kzost could continue to examine him unimpeded. It occurred to the Vulcan that it might be nice for Khatanya to leave and lock the door behind him but then what? Voren had never seduced anyone in his life and he wasn't sure he knew how, was ready to, really wanted to, or if he should. What he wanted, oddly, was to curl up in Kzost's lap as Ling had - it seemed such a safe place. Perhaps it was a safe place for the Talljets but not for him. A little indefinable shiver went through him and he took a deep breath to clear his head.
"Khatanya," Kzost muttered huskily.
"Sir?"
"Get out."
"Sir."
"And lock the door behind you."
Listening to the door lock softly click and keeping his eyes down, Voren watched Kzost rise and step around the desk to stand next to him. He looked slowly up into the Klingon's face.
Kzost grabbed the Vulcan's shirt and hauled him to his feet. Crushing Voren to his chest, he pried the Vulcan's mouth open with his tongue. He was relieved to meet almost no resistance and ground his erection into the Vulcan's. He backed them up to the desk so he could lay Voren across it. Kzost buried his face in Voren's neck and began fumbling with both their clothes.
Softly panting with desire, Voren was just about to place his fingers into meld position, merely to slow the Klingon down a little, when the comm line droned next to them.
Kzost groaned in frustration, took a deep breath to steady himself and answered. It was Hobie.
"We want to talk to the Terrans first," he said. "Can they come to your office?"
"Yes," Kzost had to clear his throat. "Yes, I'll arrange it."
Hobie switched off.
Kzost reluctantly got off Voren and set the Vulcan on his feet. He adjusted his clothes, opened the door and bellowed for Khatanya, who came in looking puzzled.
'Kzost is quick but not that quick,' Khatanya thought, trying to compare this with the Commodore's escapades with women.
"Tell your guards the Terran doctors are coming here as my guests," Kzost snarled. "Go with this Vulcan in my car to get them. Make sure they come. I guarantee their safety."
Khatanya saluted and motioned Voren to follow him. He spoke to two of his lieutenants and led Voren outside.
"Are you all right, Vulcan?" Khatanya asked.
"Yes," Voren answered. He was slightly flustered; more by the interruption of Kzost's overture than by the overture itself.
The doctors were easy to convince and they were all soon standing in Kzost's office, waiting for the Talljets to join them.
The Talljets, escorted by Khatanya, entered in a careful knot - Maja and Ling between Hobie and Jir - and proceeded cautiously into the room. Quicker than lightening Jir slipped Khatanya's knife from his belt and kicked Romsky's feet out from under him. He pounced on Romsky's chest and held the knife point to the doctor's eye as his brothers fanned out to hold off the adults. Maja kept Kzost at bay, Hobie was in front of Khatanya and Voren. Even Ling stood his ground before the three stunned doctors.
"WHY DID IT HAPPEN?" Jir screamed into Romsky's face.
"Don't move, Terran," Kzost murmured, never taking his eyes off Maja.
"WHY DID IT HAPPEN?"
"Jir," Romsky finally whispered, "Jir, they were insane, they were evil..."
"YOU LET IT HAPPEN." Jir was shaking like a leaf but the knife was steady in his hand.
"I ..."
"YOU LET IT HAPPEN," Jir was winding himself up. "WHY...WHY..."
"I didn't know, Jir," Romsky said quietly. "I didn't know this could happen. I couldn't believe such an evil thing could happen to someone I know, someone I care about. I don't understand why it happened but I'd give my life to have stopped it. I'd give both our lives to have stopped it. I'm sorry. I'm sorry."
Jir silently took this in but remained on Romsky's chest, knife poised to plunge into the Terran's right eye.
"Swear," he hissed, "swear we are safe with you."
"I swear."
"Swear..."
"I swear on the lives of my children and my family and my brothers that you are safe with me, with us."
"That is well," Jir said, raising the knife and plunging it into the carpet by Romsky's right ear. "Because I now swear to you, Terran, that if anything else happens to any of my brothers I will not kill you but I will make you wish you were dead." He stood and the brothers stepped back into formation, younger between elder, against the wall, assuring them of a straight shot out the door if necessary.
The adults heaved a sigh of relief.
Khatanya bent to retrieve his knife from the floor. 'How humiliating,' he scowled mentally, 'disarmed by a twelve year old.'
Romsky got shakily to his feet and went to sit with his colleagues. He was badly rattled by Jir's attack but could not really blame the child. Romsky gave thanks he still had his life and his eye.
"So!" They jumped as Kzost broke into everyone's thoughts in Standard. "Still want to take them to Vulcan?" He was yet again impressed with these Talljets, they were feisty little guys, even poor Ling.
"Yes," Castaris said simply. His colleagues nodded in agreement at the Klingon.
Kzost turned to the Talljets: "You have your guarantee, Hobie, they will protect you, all of you. Will you go with them? To Vulcan? To Voren's family."
Hobie looked inward for a moment: he was listening to his brothers in his head. He inhaled: "Yes. Yes. Yes."
Kzost looked at Romsky: "You've made your promise to Jir, Terran, and I think you'll keep it." He looked at each doctor in turn. "I further think that Jir will 'make you all wish you were dead' if anything bad happens." He paused for emphasis. "And I'll finish what he leaves me." He watched that sink in. He smiled to hear Jir's happy grunt of acknowledgment but did not look at him.
"I am pleased that these children have such a powerful friend in you, Commodore," Duvallier said graciously after a moment. "My colleagues and I will gladly die if we cannot keep our promise to them." He thought this was a little dramatic but, based on what he'd just heard in the room, he correctly assumed this was what the non-Terrans wanted to hear.
It was. Kzost and Khatanya exchanged satisfied glances. Maja even smiled a little at MacQuarrie.
"We want to stay here until it's time to go to Voolkin." Hobie announced in Standard with his thick Rom accent.
"That's fine, Hobie," Kzost said, hoping his back would hold out. After Jir's performance, he had no doubt his self control would.
Ling buried his face in Jir's chest and mewed softly.
"Hemzjit (let's go)," Jir murmured to Hobie and they all left the room, escorted by Captain Khatanya.
"Well, that was easy," Kzost said amicably to the doctors. "Get out."
The Terrans said good afternoon and left.
Voren, seeing Kzost was not inclined to pick up where they'd left off, rose: "Good afternoon, Commodore."
Kzost, still seated, held his eyes: "I'll walk you home, Vulcan." He rose, "Let me check on the Talljets and I'll be with you terrectly."
~
Voren lived in a simple room on a quiet street off the bazaar. He led the Klingon into the sunny chamber that contained only a bed, a table and a chair and waited for Kzost to lunge. Or rather, he hoped that Kzost would lunge.
"Never have visitors, do you Vulcan?" Kzost asked, looking around the room.
"Never. How do you know?"
"Only one chair." Kzost moved a little closer. "Is it true that you Vulcans sleep on stones?"
"Some Vulcans do, yes." Voren gently placed a hand on the Klingon's thick bicep.
"Do you?" Kzost suddenly wondered if they shouldn't go find a soft bed somewhere else. His back hurt enough as it was.
Voren slowly shook his head. "No," he murmured.
"Ah. Good." Kzost pulled Voren over to the bed. He would find it more like a bale of straw than stone, alas. But, by that time, it did not matter; he would have made love to Voren on razors.
"Undress," he ordered and watched as the Vulcan obeyed.
Kzost ran his blunt fingertips over the soft skin on Voren's chest, through the silky jet floss and down to his hard pale green cock. Still fully clothed, he laid the Vulcan down on the bed and lay on top of him. He brought his lips softly to Voren's, contact without pressure, and retreated when the Vulcan pressed up against him. Kzost explored the pointed ear with his tongue, it had a nice salty taste and soft soft flesh stretched taut over its graceful curves.
"Have you done this before, Klingon? With a man?"
"No. Have you?"
"No. How do you know what to do?"
"Based upon my previous experience with females, I plan to make certain logical assumptions and a few intuitive leaps."
"Take your clothes off. Your belt is ..."
"I shall consider it, Vulcan."
For a response, Voren reached across Kzost's chest, took hold of armhole seam of his uniform and ripped the entire tunic and undershirt off in one fluid motion.
"I think I'll take my clothes off," Kzost muttered, undressing. He was impressed by such an elegant show of force.
He tossed his pants on the only chair and laid full length on the Vulcan. Kzost found himself enjoying the silky skin over lean hard muscle beneath him.
"Happy, now?" he asked, stroking Voren's penis with his own.
"No, of course not," Voren said dryly. "It is only more comfortable to have sex naked."
"Ah," Kzost said abstractedly as he guided Voren's hand to his penis.
The Vulcan started at the contact with the hard cool flesh.
Kzost tightened his grip on Voren's wrist until his resistance subsided and he began to stroke the Klingon's cock. He moved his own hand to the Vulcan's impressive erection and began to caress the hot flesh. Considering their equal strengths, he wisely decided against forcing Voren to go down on him. He fondled the Vulcan's balls, stroked his inner thigh and spread Voren's legs a little wider in his exploration of the alien body beside him. He caressed the tight ring of the Vulcan's anus, slipped in his fingertip and felt him jump.
"I've never been penetrated, Klingon. Do you want to do that?"
"I can tell," Kzost said dryly as he pressed his finger in a little deeper, thinking, 'You're so blunt, Vulcan, and so tight' but said: "Yes, actually, I do. Don't you?" He abruptly withdrew his finger so Voren would jump again.
"Perhaps," Voren moved a few millimeters away from him. "Have you done this before?"
"Not with a man," Kzost answered and rolled the Vulcan over without another word. "Or a virgin," he added in a soft whisper and kissed Voren's shoulder. "I'll be gentle."
Without a meld, Voren could not be sure the Klingon was telling him the truth but he was inclined to trust him.
Kzost rummaged around in his cloak for the lubricant he'd put there earlier when he'd decided what he'd like to do if he could get Voren into bed. He was pleased it was all working out so well. He came across the handcuffs he'd brought and smiled; he wouldn't be needing them this afternoon. He put some of the very fine imported Mvorian jelly on his fingers and smoothed it around the outside of the Vulcan's tight ring. He noted the light, it was still early afternoon and there was no need to hurry.
Voren allowed himself to relax under the Klingon's surprisingly gentle touch. He was thoroughly aroused and actually enjoying the caress. He could feel Kzost's cock against his thigh and shivered when the Klingon pressed his finger into him, up to the first joint.
"All right, Voren?" Kzost whispered against his neck. He slipped his left arm under the Vulcan to hold him and caress him as he continued his gentle probing and stretching. He nuzzled at Voren's cheek until the Vulcan gave him his lips. Kzost kissed him deeply and sweetly, finding so much pleasure in this man, he wondered why he'd never done it before. He slipped in another slick finger and Voren moaned into his mouth. He could feel the moisture on the Vulcan's cock on his arm. He damped down his sudden impatience and slowly slipped in a third finger.
Voren broke the kiss so he could pant against the Klingon's shoulder. He was shocked that he could be so aroused by this intimate invasion and hid his confusion against Kzost's neck as Kzost gently worked his fingers in and out. 'This is wrong, I should stop him,' he thought desperately. 'But I don't want to.' He pulled Kzost back into the deep kiss and began to move in the rhythm of the Klingon's fingers.
end of part 39
This story also lives at http://members.tripod.com/karmen_ghia/
Appendices: http://members.tripod.com/karmen_ghia/atrappendices.html