After the Rescue, by Karmen Ghia, part fifty-one

Title: After the Rescue

Part: NEW 67/73

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.

"What's Kmordri doing here?" Malira fell into step with Maja, on his way to lead the diplomats to their private room.

"Chasing Hraja, what else?"

"Are you wise?"

"Is he?"

"What are you up to, Master Ghet?"

"Look, Malira, we've got to go back to the Empire one day; wouldn't it be so much better to have one more powerful Klingon on our side when we do?"

"Ah. Well. Kmordri and I are convinced. You'll have to win over Hraja and my son and Hobie and his pirates and the JetCheqs and ...."

"Don't be negative, Malira. The hardest part is accomplished; Kmordri is here, is he not?"

Malira bowed to Maja's superior deviousness and left it in his capable hands.

"Oh, yes, I remember you," SoLri said. "You're Stonet, one of Jir's schoolmates, aren't you? Where've you been all this time?"

"Gol," Stonet murmured, he was still not very used to using his voice again and was finding it difficult to speak above a whisper. "Is Jir at home?"

"He's somewhere here," SoLri looked about.

"Where were you?" SaBrzia asked. He had not recognized the voice, but he name sounded familiar, someone Jir spent quite a lot of time with in his youth.

"Gol."

"JIR!" SaBrzia bellowed. 'I'm going to bed after this,' he thought ruefully.

Jir looked away from Khatanya, who was Shakaaring as if his life depended on it, and froze, nearly landing them in a heap. He disengaged from his partner and headed toward SaBrzia.

Storen, hearing Jir's name, looked in SaBrzia's direction and nearly dropped his wineglass at seeing his elder brother standing there. He excused himself from Smig and Phr-tolnet, who were telling Jira Krinat (Jir the Dancer) stories and followed Jir across the room.

Lord Srizek, Storen and Stonet's father, had so strongly disapproved of Stonet's and Jir's liaison that he was relieved when his first born son had chosen Gol over the half-breed slut. He was deeply disturbed to see his son now standing in the same room with him when he should have been far far away. He moved off in Stonet's direction.

'Wow - I bet no one would come back from Gol for me,' Maja thought in awe as he led the diplomats to their quiet room. SerNera and Smvit had agreed to translate and were waiting there. The two old men could be linguistic pains in the ass but they were probably the best Klingon/Standard, Klingon/Vulcan translators in bodies at that time.

'This is enough to make me believe in true love,' Hobie thought, looking at Stonet and drawing Chekov a little closer.

"I wish to speak to you in private, Jir," Stonet said.

'You'd never know there was a party in full swing around you by the way you act, Stonet,' Jir thought, remembering how self absorbed this Vulcan always was. It had been a challenge, even for Jir, just to get his attention for most of their love affair. "Well, I'm in the middle of a party but I suppose we could step outside for a moment," he said, also remembering that he'd never been able to say no to this Vulcan, and turned to SaBrzia. "If you will excuse me."

"Yes. Hurry back. Some other interesting uninvited persons might arrive," SaBrzia growled.

Stonet turned to find his father and younger brother next to him. "Father. Brother." He nodded. "Please excuse us." He took Jir's elbow and led him onto the patio.

"What are you watching with such attention, Spock?" Amanda asked.

"Stonet has returned from Gol."

"I thought Gol was a life long commitment."

"It is," he said. "Usually."

"Will this do?" Maja asked as the diplomats fanned out around the table.

"It will," T'Pau said.

"Shall I bring some wine?" Maja asked, remembering his manners.

"And mineral water and tea and some hors d'oeuvres, please," SerNera said, seating himself and remembering to be a good host.

Maja slipped away to fetch all those things for them.

"Didja see him?" Ling breathlessly asked SaDrosta.

"Stonet? Or the dismay in his father's face?" SaDrosta asked.

"Stonet. To hell with his father, SaDrosta," Ling said. "He broke them up in the first place."

"Jir and Stonet broke themselves up, as I recall, by not being able to find a course they could both agree on," SaDrosta drawled with irritating serenity. "There were better solutions than exile to Gol and exile from dance, but they refused to see them."

"You know Jir's heart was broken when Stonet left him, SaDrosta."

"Mine as well; I lost the best dance partner I've ever had."

"Oh, really."

"Yes, really." SaDrosta reached out and gave Ling's aquiline nose a gentle pull. He was fond of the younger Talljets, Ling more than Maja; Maja was too hard, too sharp for SaDrosta to really enjoy.

"I could sense your proximity since your arrival, Jir, and fought your draw as long as I could," Stonet said quietly. "You've been on Vulcan longer than usual and the attraction was too strong for me to resist this time."

"So it's my fault you're a weakling and just walked out of Gol?"

"Yes."

"Listen, Stonet...um..."

Stonet waited patiently. He was very patient.

"Stonet, I'm sorry, I came because I felt you dying and if that destroyed whatever you were working on in Gol..."

"I would be dead had you not come, Jir. The Kolinahr make no provision for the onset of Pon farr. They die from it; that's all."

"The whole thing is barbaric." Jir paced a few steps. "But you lived, you didn't have to come here, I didn't ask you to."

"No."

"No, what?" Jir asked after a moment of annoying silence.

"No, you did not ask me to come here."

"But you did," Jir prompted.

"Yes."

Jir ground his teeth in irritation, he'd nearly forgotten how hard it could be to have a conversation with Stonet. "Can you go back?"

"Back where?"

"TO GOL."

"No."

"Then what are you doing here?"

"I came for you, Jir."

"Madness."

"Yes. Perhaps. Illogical, at least."

"Oh, whatever." Jir threw himself into the former Kolinahr's arms. "And you're just in time for supper."

"Well done, Leonard," Ling smiled at the doctor, grabbing a seat next to him. "You've ended up at the equivalent of the children's table."

"Oh, really? I just thought it would be pleasant to sit next to you, Ling."

"You are too kind."

Maja knocked and was told to enter: "SaBrzia wants to know if you're eating with us or if you want something brought in here," he said.

"Have it sent in here, please," T'Pau said and returned her attention to the Klingons.

Maja went off to do as he was bid.

Hobie settled Chekov at the children's table, next to Qwuushi, who would keep the navigator company, and went off to welcome Stonet.

"Back from the dead, eh, Stonet?"

"Not that I am aware of, Hobie."

"Ah. Well. Nice to see you again." Hobie was always a little flummoxed by Stonet so he returned to the simpler joys of Chekov.

"I find the Federation's claim on Rovirin bootless," Admiral Kahbre was saying as Maja saw the meal set out on a sideboard.

"But a fact, Admiral," Sarek said smoothly. "One we must find a way to work together on."

Maja withdrew and found one of the Klingons from Kmordri's escort waiting for him.

"The General would like to speak to you before he retires to the Embassy for the night."

"Lead on, Klingon."

He found Kmordri seated in one of the little parlors off the main reception hall.

"Your eldest brother has a very hard fist," Kmordri stated.

"I was not expecting you so soon, General." Maja said. "I would have arranged our meeting differently, in that case."

"What can you arrange for me about your son?" Kmordri asked bluntly.

"Which one?"

"You know which one, Master Ghet. Do not play games with me."

"Of course not, General, I merely wish to be sure you're talking about Hraja."

"I am."

"I wonder what he is worth to you."

It was on the tip of the Klingon's tongue to say everything but he controlled himself: "I wonder what you want for him, priest."

"I want Rovirin, Zhaharnisha and the systems around them returned to Haat control when the peace is made and no interference from you Yhets. I want Hraja to remain in the Gozshedrefreingin Commune; eventually he will become a Master sculptor. You may visit him there as often as you like since the Yhets will extend their patronage to us as well."

"Your patrons are the Haats."

"They will agree to share us. You will keep all other Klingons off of us, off of Hraja, his brothers and Master Khat especially."

"This is all possible..."

"And there might be one or two more material requests when I begin to make concrete plans to return to the Empire."

"...if your son agrees."

"He is a reasonable youngster; I believe you found him so."

"Yes." Kmordri rose. "And many other things as well." He swept out with his escort and didn't look back.

Jir turned to see Stonet examining him over his plate of raw vegetables. He smiled at him.

"Have you changed your hair, Jir?"

"He's got it bad for you, Terran." Qwuushi observed.

"What do you mean?" Chekov asked.

"Aside from beating up that Klingon and breaking up a fight, Hobie hasn't done anything but dance with you all night."

Chekov glanced away and found a solemn looking vulcanoid in a simple black gown and a long braid over his shoulder staring at him. The vulcanoid shook his head, flipped his braid off his shoulder and wandered off in the direction of the caterers, who were taking food to another part of the building.

"As Rovirin is our best access to non-aligned space, Hierophant," Jessup was saying. "We are, of course inclined to keep it. Especially, since we have it."

"Rovirin has religious significance for us," the Hierophant informed him.

"Your cathedral? I'm sure we can find a way to allow you Klingons access to it."

Maja saw the food layed out, opened another bottle of wine, suppressed an urge to wink at Sarek and withdrew.

"Laninin was doing what?" Qhoshi asked Ling across the table.

"Seeing for both of them."

Qhoshi leaned back to think about this for a moment. "What does this mean?"

"It means he's a lovely, compassionate child who is going to go his own way. Our best bet is simply to provide him a good structure, clear boundaries and listen to what he says when he bothers to say it."

"That's what we do now."

"It seems to be working; let's continue."

Qhoshi nodded and turned to ask Commander Sunna how he was enjoying Shirkar. They were slightly distracted by Hobie's reappearance at Chekov's side, begging the ensign's pardon for leaving him for so long.

"I hope Chekov's up to this," Kirk whispered to Spock, who merely nodded and went back to enjoying a very excellent Vulcan supper.

The band changed from Jir's ensemble to all Vulcans with modern versions of ancient instruments.

"Those are Brnias, Maja," Strat said to Maja, who'd just gotten his first mouthful of nourishment that evening. "What are the Sas up to now?"

"You have to tell me what a Brnia is first, Strat."

"An old old Vulcan drone instrument."

"Pre-reform?"

"Pre-everything, Maja. They were used in the old religion for hunting dances, war dances, ... mating dances." Strat's eyes widened slightly as he watched the musicians set up a series of hollow drums. "And those Ktaraaras," he said, referring to the drums. "Were used mainly in the Gjrigas."

"You know, this is a fascinatin' ethnomusicological lecture, Strat. I wish I was in the mood for it." Maja got snappy when he was hungry and he hadn't yet gotten enough food, but still, he was curious. "What's a Gjrigas?"

"Very sexy mating dance. Used in ancient times to stimulate young couples to breed."

Maja, even unshockable Maja Talljet, widened his eyes. "D'you think the Sas would ..."

"They might, MajaYaja." Strat gave Maja's knee a squeeze. "Just to prove they can."

The Hierophant pushed his plate away. He hated vegetables but these had not been so bad, actually quite good. "Perhaps some solution can be reached in this matter. Let us meet tomorrow with General KmordriYhet. As he is here for some reason, he can represent the interests of his family." He paused to listen. "What is that delightful music?"

T'Pau grinned in her mind. "It's a Gjrigas. Shall we rejoin the party?" She rose and was out the door and into the sea of undulating beings before anyone could say no.

"Spock, perhaps you should take the humans home," Ling warned. "This might not be ... be the thing for them." Stez was dragging Ling off to the sidelines as she spoke.

"I think they will enjoy it," Spock assured her.

"Only the Sas would do this," Princess T'Pira said to her consort as they danced against each other in the primal rhythm of the Gjrigas.

Gjrigas had been banned at the time of the founding of the Shirkar oasis due to their inflammatory nature. The founding clans felt that the ecstatic mating, sometimes lasting up to four days, was no longer necessary to tribes as advanced as they. The anarchy of the matings was also proving to be a threat to the chieftains' authority. It was permitted to dance them in private and they flourished for quite a while.

"This is an unusual dance for Vulcans, is it not?" KzinivDhalk asked SaDrosta dancing against him.

"Yes. Very instinctual, very primal."

"Oh, yes."

Eventually, when there was significant dip in the population of Shirkar, it was allowed to dance Gjrigas in large public groups. This was, in fact, encouraged for many years and so it gradually fell out of fashion.

The band leader, a respected ethnomusicologist at the Vulcan Institute, had been reluctant to accept the engagement until SaBrzia himself had reminded him that the ancient traditions were worth reviving, even for one evening.

The Gjrigas renaissance lasted the entire Shirkar season and the band had more engagements than they could accept. It was necessary to form two more Gjrigas bands, primarily of students, and send them out into Shirkar society that year.

The later Gjrigas, however, never quite reached the fever pitch of the Sas' party. This was attributed to the absence of the Terrans and the Klingons. The later Gjrigas were very enjoyable, nonetheless.

"This is quite interesting," Sarfati said to Jaroslav Tikel, dancing next to him.

"Very."

Gjrigas were again banned at the time of the Surakian dictatorship as being too licentious.

Chekov found himself glued to Hobie in the crush of bodies around him. He further found he was enjoying it; Hobie, the dance, the music, the crush - all of it.

'Perfect,' Hobie sighed happily in his mind, Chekov in his arms. 'Just perfect.'

In the first millennium after the Reform, Gjrigas music was rediscovered by the Si clan and was allowed to be performed in public again. Eventually, the dance itself was allowed to be performed but only under strict and tightly controlled theatrical conditions.

'Only the Sas,' T'Pau was thinking as she danced against Smvit, as they had, once or twice, in the past.

Once again, the Gjrigas crept back into private life and from there it was merely a short jump back into larger, no more than ten dancers, but still private, groups. The Gjrigas never again became the powerful leveling social force it had been in the past but it accomplished two things for modern and nouveau Vulcans: among the followers of Surak it was one of the less chemical ways to induce Pon farr and it was enjoyable for everyone.

The Sas' party for Hobie's liberation on this Noltarek’s Eve was the first time in living memory the dance had been revived for a large social event.

"This is incredible, Gozine." The Hierophant hauled him a little closer.

"It's certainly unusual, Master." Maja looked around for Sarek and saw him all over Amanda and decided that was fine, even good.

McCoy found himself wedged between Spock and Kirk and did not find that unusual or unpleasant.

SaBrzia and his elderly students slipped away in the rapture of the Gjrigas. They were satisfied; it had been a wonderful party. Some of the younger Sas were on strict orders to stop the music in an hour or so and throw everybody out.

There was not much protest when this occurred. Everybody was ready, very ready to go home. To bed.

"Come," the Hierophant said firmly to Maja. "With me."

"I'm staying here tonight, Master." Maja said with his gentle but irresistible firmness. "It's the first time we Talljets have been together in ages."

"Change," Kroldt said menacingly. "Your mind."

Maja stroked his cheek. "Later, I'll see you later tonight. I swear it."

The Hierophant knew further argument was useless and withdrew to the Vulcan Embassy to get some sleep.

The guests drifted away in small groups.

"You'll stay, won't you, Chekov?"

"If you like."

"Super," Hobie said, moving the ensign out of the ballroom. "We'll have to find you somewheres to sleep."

Jir caught Stonet's father's angry eye. "Are you staying here or going to your father's house?"

"Here, if that is possible."

Jir nodded. 'Possible, yes; wise, we cannot know.' They left the ballroom together.

Kirk, Spock and McCoy were so anxious to get to the privacy of the villa, they had the Enterprise transporter room beam them there.

Mr. Scott went home with Dolo-fra, but the details of that encounter are still unknown at this time.

"Are you coming, Ling?" Stez asked.

"No, I'm staying here." Ling said simply. "We Talljets have not been together like this in ages." She touched her paired fingers to Stez's. "I'll see you later."

"Here we go," Hobie soothed at Chekov, who seemed a little nervous to him. "You can sleep right here." He reached for the belt of the ensign's tunic and pulled it loose. The pirate drew the garment over the youngster's head and tossed it aside. He took a moment to admire the definition in Chekov's chest and arms and the color of his skin before he pressed the ensign down to sitting on the edge of the bed, noting the softness of the aforementioned skin. Hobie knelt to remove the low heeled pumps and pulled off the sheer socks that went with them. He drew Chekov gently against him to roll down the leggings and looked deeply into the Terran's warm brown eyes. He brushed the hair out of Chekov's eyes and pressed a gentle kiss to the trembling ensign's forehead. Hobie pulled the covers up and tucked them in. "There. You're all set. The bath is over there," he pointed. "There's water in this jug. We'll wake you when breakfast is ready. Sleep well, Chekov." And he was gone before the ensign could really react.

'...ummm...thank you,' Chekov thought sleepily, yawning, somewhat relieved, and dropped off.

"Where are you sleeping, Jir?" Stonet asked as Jir settled him into one of the guest rooms.

"With the Talljets. We haven't been together in a long time."

"Nor have we, Jira."

"Then we can wait a little longer, can't we, Stonet?"

There was a stubborn silence before Stonet agreed, that, yes, they could wait a little longer.

"You'll be comfortable here." SaCriz saw Kzost and Voren into one of the unused bedrooms. He handed Voren sheets and towels and turned to go.

"Cousin," Voren said, handing the sheets and towels to Kzost, who went off to make the bed. "Do you think SaBrzia is dismayed?"

"A little, SaVoren," SaCriz said. "There are many things we respect, perhaps even admire, about Klingons and Klingon culture but discovering you've had a Klingon lover for thirty years is rather shocking. Even for us open-minded Sas." He watched his younger cousin nod. "Is Kzost why you stayed away from Vulcan for so long?"

"SaCriz," Voren said, looking deeply in his cousin's eyes. "I hardly noticed the time going by."

The Talljets made a nest in their old playroom and curled up together in their old way: Jir and Hobie around Ling and Maja. They had tried to get Kzost to let them sleep with him but they were thrown out sans ceremony. They managed to feel safe and happy anyway. They were together and well and all would be well.

At least for this night.

* * *

end of part 67

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