Title: After the Rescue

Part: NEW 7/73

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.

Star Fleet dress uniforms, although visually pleasing, were torture for the wearer. At least that was the doctor's opinion as he fastened the too tight collar. He hoped Jir's dancing would take his mind off fashion. Finally finished dressing, McCoy proceeded to the transporter room where he found Kirk and Spock looking magnificent but, he knew, living through the same sartorial nightmare as himself.

"You look lovely, Bones." Kirk was in excellent spirits.

"Thank you, Captain." McCoy was not.

Spock was silent. McCoy speculated that he might have been nervous, if that were possible.

They transported directly to the theater and found their way through a gala crowd to Jir's box.

Passing through a lavish anteroom they settled themselves into their really excellent seats and looked over the crowd. Kirk was glad they'd dressed up. The Royal family overflowed their box directly facing the stage. Kirk considered sending an invitation to one or two crushed looking princesses. The Bharselis government occupied the boxes on either side of its Sovereign. The Sultan of Orissa and his entourage occupied another. To Kirk's untrained eye it appeared that all the wealth and power of Bharselis and twenty-eight members of Star Fleet were in attendance this gala first night. He looked down at the patch of Star Fleet colors below and blessed Jir for the crew's tickets, they could not have been easy to come by. He looked at Spock studying the programme.

"How did you decide what crew got tickets, Spock?"

"I did not. I gave the tickets to Lieutenant Uhura as she would know who would wish to attend such an event." Spock, having just perused the programme notes, rather wished he were not here.

The story to be enacted before them was _Skolta_, whose story was to be retold in three acts with music.

Act I. Warlord Losknir's fortress on pre-reform Vulcan, in the time of Surak, Losknir's favorite male concubine, Skolta, is persuading his lord to at least banish Surak from his lands, if not kill him outright. Skolta desires this because the imposition of logic as the new religion will erode his own political power and the quality of Vulcan life. Various forms of argument and persuasion are presented, i.e. dancing, singing, etc. Losknir orders Surak banished thereby setting the last Vulcan Civil War into motion.

Act II. Losknir's fortress. On the eve of war, Losknir receives a delegation from Surak, making one last bid for a peaceful solution. Skolta mocks them and convinces Losknir to execute them and display their heads on the fortress wall as an answer to Surak. The delegation is taken to be executed. Warlords Trvsin and Nzrta enter with their entourages and dancing and singing and other forms of entertainment ensue in which Skolta plays a leading role.

Act III. Losknir's fortress. Losknir lies dying in Skolta's arms as his fortress surrenders. Losknir dies. The victorious Surak enters and engages Skolta in private conversation. Surak orders Skolta beheaded and his head displayed on the Fortress walls to herald the tyranny to logic that enslaves the Vulcans to this very day. Curtain.

Kirk and McCoy looked up from their programmes and at Spock, stoically regarding the throng.

"...ah," McCoy began, breaking the silence, "I see the author of the text is Ling Talljet."

Spock nodded.

"Doesn't he like Vulcans?" Kirk ventured.

"Ling's contention is with Vulcan history and culture. He takes issue with the laws of Surak and the Matriarchy. It is a theme that occurs in almost all of his writings in one form or another."

"I didn't know he was a playwright."

Spock sighed mentally and decided it was an interesting enough story to tell: "Ling has an advanced degree in economics and literature from the Vulcan Institute. Upon graduation, he was offered a substantial position in the Federation Development Ministry, based upon his thesis on the economic development of unsophisticated but resource rich planets. He theorized on the development of planets in the Ploynolin group."

"Which have since joined the Federation." Kirk supplied.

"And are being developed using Ling's thesis as a blueprint." Spock added.

"What happened after he turned down the Federation job?" Kirk asked, intrigued.

"He became a very successful prostitute in the Autonomous Zones and wrote several very popular pornographic novels."

"Such as what we are about to see."

"No. _Skolta_ was Ling's thesis in Literature at the Vulcan Institute."

McCoy smiled: "His committee can't have liked it very much."

"I do not know what the committee's decision process was, however, Ling was awarded his degree with honors and received several offers to publish his poetry and commissions for more." Spock paused, a shadow of pleasure passed behind his eyes: "He is a very fine poet in Vulcan."

"But he chose exile, prostitution and pornography instead." Kirk remarked.

"He remarked to a mutual acquaintance that he wished to study supply side economics in its most extreme form and that prostitution in unregulated social systems presented the purest model," Spock commented dryly and continued: "He further stated that he intended to write smut until he had exhausted the subject, by which time he hoped to know enough about love to write on that."

They were silent, mulling this over. Mig, Jir's secretary, knocked and entered: "Jira's sent up some food for you," he gestured to the spread of vegetarian delicacies being laid out. "And some wine."

Spock barely inclined his sleek head. Mig activated the anteroom stage monitor and continued: "I'll return during the third act to collect you and bring you backstage. Jira is concerned that you will not be able to get through the crowd otherwise."

"We'll miss the ending," McCoy said.

"You can watch it on the monitor in Jir's dressing room, if you wish." Mig bowed and turned to go. Spock spoke: "What are you doing here, your Highness, if I may ask?"

"I am Jira's secretary.

"Why?"

"I find the travel and people interesting." He paused. "Will there be anything further?"

Spock looked at the Humans. They looked back at him.

"No, thank you, Prince Smig. We shall expect you later."

"Until then, Spock." Mig made eye contact with the humans and left.

"Prince Smig?" McCoy asked.

"An old and noble family."

"Why do you pronounce it Smig and he pronounces it Mig?" Kirk asked.

"Vulcan male names beginning with S honor Surak; remove the S and the opposite is achieved."

They took their seats as the lights dimmed and an expectant hush fell over the audience.

The curtain raised on the scene of Jir, as Skolta, nude, on his knees, sucking Losknir's, portrayed by Phr-tolnet, cock. Kirk blushed at the realism and was glad for the darkness. McCoy wondered how they could stay in character and be so convincing. Spock sighed mentally and girded himself for a long evening.

Losknir: "No, I would only renounce you for war as only strife and chaos excite me as much as you."

Skolta: "And if Surak's peace is thrust down our throats, my Lord?"

Losknir: "I shall cut it off and spit it into his face."

A long evening indeed, except when Jir was dancing. He commanded their attention and suspended time itself.

The trio retired to the anteroom to eat, drink and watch Act II on the monitor. Jir had thoughtfully written down the times of the dances in the performance so they would know when they were missing something good.

Skolta: "Surak offers a living death dressed up as the old whore peace, who'll go with anyone who is willing. Shall we renounce love to conquer hatred? Elation to conquer rage? Ecstasy to conquer despair? We will have nothing but hides that do not feel and hunger only for food. How can you advocate our diminution? What life is that for those the gods made able to know the greatness of god in all its manifestations?"

Delegate: "Without peace we will all die and therefore be unable to enjoy what you speak of."

Skolta: "I prefer to die quickly by violence than slowly of logic."

Kirk and McCoy found the orgy that ends Act II of great interest, it representing a crucial event in Vulcan history, which was suddenly much more interesting than they had previously thought.

Spock, not much of a voyeur, was bored. Had Kirk not been with them he might have availed himself of one of the wide couches and made love to Leonard. He regarded McCoy, flushed with pleasure, excitement and wine, in the dim light from the stage and thought, 'quel dommage.'

"How have I never heard of this play before?" Kirk murmured, breaking into Spock's reverie.

"It is not popular on Vulcan."

"Oh, I can believe that."

"It has, however, been running continuously in the Klingon Empire for the past 10 years." Spock remarked.

During the interval, Kirk and McCoy ran into Sulu.

"Well, Sulu, are you enjoying your evening?" Kirk asked pleasantly.

"Yes, sir, I had no idea Vulcan history was so... fascinating."

In another part of the lobby Spock was greeted by Uhura: "Mr. Spock, this is amazing."

"Is it? I find the musical component pedestrian although representational of the period it depicts."

"Is the sex also representational of the period?"

"I would not know, Lieutenant." The lights dimmed for the third act and the hot and bothered crowd returned to their seats.

Skolta, kneeling before Surak: "Can you renounce what you have never had, my Lord?"

Surak: "Yes."

Skolta: "Can you renounce the opportunity to discover what you have not had, my Lord?"

Surak: "Yes."

Skolta: "And so my Lord draws a conclusion without sufficient experience to draw such a conclusion. Is this the future of Vulcan? Then let me die of passion before I grow bored with existence."

Surak: "You will die of logic and law before that, beautiful one. You have sown hatred and now you shall reap death. It is logical to destroy what cannot be salvaged. Your execution will stand as a lesson for others, as well."

Skolta: "Then they shall learn that there is more to this life than logic, Surak. You may stand over my grave to be sure I am dead but as you lay on stones and cook sand while building a logical hell, it will be my eyes you see glowing with pleasure when you have none, my skin you long to caress when you wake on the hard ground and my laughter you will hear forever in the sterile construct you condemn all Vulcans to."

Surak: "Perhaps. But I doubt you would let me live in it very long. Actions provoke consequences, Skolta, and you must face yours and I will face mine."

Kirk and McCoy watched the finale from Jir's dressing room which was even more opulent than his box.

McCoy found himself wishing Surak could have reformed Skolta along with Vulcan since it seemed a waste to destroy so much wit and beauty, however misguided.

Kirk was wondering if Skolta's sister, if he had one, would have had better luck.

Spock was wondering when Jir was going to stop bowing and they could leave.

The crowd had so far been content to cheer and chant his name with increasing intensity but Jir had a premonition that it was time to go. He signaled his intention to the company, bowed once more and left the stage. A sudden savage howl went up and a new born mob rushed the stage.

"Aaaand away we go,' Jir thought happily, racing backstage with Mig, Spock and the humans in his wake. They dove into the waiting hoverlimousine and passed the riot squad on its way to the theater.

"Well! That went pretty well, dontcha think, Mig?" Jir asked brightly, pulling his dressing gown around him.

"The spectators appeared to enjoy it, as well." Mig opined.

Kirk hailed the Enterprise to make sure everyone got back on board safely. He turned to Jir: "Where are we going?" he asked.

"My place. Did you enjoy the show, Captain Kirk?" 'Even prettier in person,' thought Jir, 'but what was on between Spock and the other human?' He switched his vision from form and color to energy field, an inborn talent all the Talljets had perfected on Vulcan. "Have we met?" He smiled to McCoy before Kirk could answer.

"Dr. McCoy, this is Jir Talljet." Spock verbalized, watching Jir watching McCoy with interest.

"Charmed, Mr. Talljet. Allow me to congratulate you on this evening's performance, it was awe-inspiring," McCoy drawled.

Jir smiled charmingly and thanked the doctor, he did so love compliments. 'Allow me to congratulate you on yours, Doctor,' Jir was thinking. 'You're Spock's coochie but you can't show it for some reason.' He glanced at Spock, who dipped his shields just enough to send Jir a warning as well as a plea. They arrived chez Jir.

"Undo your collars, gentlemen, and relax. I'll be with you terrectly." Jir called over his shoulder, disappearing into a hallway. Spock could hear him speaking softly to someone. Mig brought them into a modestly furnished parlor and offered them more wine, which was refused. He then offered coffee and Relan tea, which were accepted.

Jir reappeared, showered, his unruly, matte, jet curls brushed back into a simple bun and wearing a dark blue dressing gown. He looked closer to his age rather than the sixteen year old Vulcan dancing boy he'd just portrayed.

"Come into the kitchen and keep me company while I get supper together."

"I thought we would go out," Spock suggested.

"Very kind, Spock, but I spent this afternoon making you coza and mlou, with these two hands," dramatic gesture, "and I will suffer greatly if you don't enjoy it."

"I do not wish to trouble you, Jir." Spock enjoyed eating coza and mlou quite a bit.

"You do not." Jir moving around a clean but simple kitchen, the humans and Vulcans sat watching him.

"These are temporary quarters until we decide if we will stay here," Jir commented, catching the human's thought, setting plates and bowls on the table before them and sitting down.

They ate in silence for a while, Jir looked tired because he was. Mig rose to answer the comm line.

"So, Kirk," Jir poured himself a coffee and a Mitca brandy and leaned back, "what brings the Enterprise to Bharselis?"

"We're here as window dressing for the negotiations on Bharselis's entrance into the Federation, a diplomatic mission, they picked us because we were in the neighborhood."

"And a bad choice you are," Jir bluntly stated, "but that isn't surprising. You Terrans are an obtuse lot when it comes to this end of the galaxy."

The Terrans stiffened but Spock was curious: "Why so, Jira?"

Jir smiled at hearing his nickname: "Why send a Starship capable of destroying a planet to encourage a planet that's already made up its mind to join? The rumors are flying that the Enterprise is here to make sure the haggling goes the Federation's way. If not, blam blam blam."

Kirk privately agreed with Jir. He had doubted Ambassador Martin's judgment in summoning them here but was in no position to refuse, his orders had come straight from Admiral Jessup. The reasoning had been that Star Fleet needed to be represented on Bharselis and secondly that if the mission was attacked by pirates or others, the Enterprise had the best chance of fighting its way out of trouble. Bharselis's position in non-aligned space was nervous-makingly close to the Autonomous Zones. This also made its decision to join the Federation and not some other group a major coup. So, he merely smiled and thanked Jir for his opinion. He made eye contact with the little vulcanoid boy peeking around the door frame behind Jir.

Jir swung round to look at what Kirk was seeing: "Hey! Hobiea olio (little other Hobie), c'mere, you."

The boy clambered on Jir's lap and looked at them with some interest. He was all dark eyes and a pointed chin and jetty curls like Jir's, except his were shiny where Jir's were matte.

"And this is?" McCoy asked.

"My first son."

"Named after your brother?" McCoy suggested.

"Of course."

"And his mother?" Spock asked quietly.

Jir looked at him, eyes unreadable: "He hasn't one."

"How is that so, Jira?" Spock was suddenly very interested.

Jir considered, decided there was no harm in telling: "Don't you know where little Mages come from, Spock?" he smiled, amused. "When inspired to do so, even we MageCheqs (half Mages) flip for our guy, go female and get knocked up, three times, have three baby boys, and then back to male. I found it a rather nice change of pace and the fashion possibilities were endless. I've just gone male again about a year ago."

"Then who fathered your sons?" Spock persisted. McCoy thought this was ungallant, but only in passing, he was watching Jir with Hobiea and searching for what it reminded him of.

"Various people you don't know." Flatly, finally. Jir picked up a sugar cube and soaked it in Mitca brandy and fed it to his son.

McCoy, gazing with interest at parent and child, had an odd reaction to this action. On one level he disapproved feeding liquor to a toddler but on the other hand, his father had fed him the occasional cognac soaked sugar cube when he, like Hobiea, had snuggled in his lap after bedtime, to listen to the male voices rumbling about things he didn't understand, lulling him to sleep. He'd been drifting on a wave of nostalgia, remembering this just prior to Jir's action and was disconcerted by seeing his memory reenacted before him. He looked sharply at Jir, who regarded him with approval.

Jir had picked up McCoy's memory because it was more interesting than what Kirk was musing on and Spock was too well shielded. He had modeled his action to please the human and was curious to see that it had not.

'They don't like being read, these humans,' Jir thought, 'except when they want to be read. This one, however, is very complex and cares very deeply for Spock, god help him. And he must have something going for him if Spock is interested.'

Jir had a favorable but realistic opinion of Spock, lightly tinged with affection and respect. Overall, he approved of what he'd seen and felt from and between Spock and McCoy this evening. It was his opinion that they were onto something good and he wished them joy.

Mig reappeared wearing his coat: "I've got to go to the detention center, half the company was picked up by the riot squad."

"Dammit, they're actors not rioters."

Mig cocked an eyebrow and departed. Jir picked up the now sleeping Hobiea and left the room as well. He returned wearing a long intricately pleated black gown and his hair flowing down his back.

"D'you mind if we go to a little place I found the other night? They play music there that reminds me of Vulcan." 'Reminds me of the happy times on Vulcan,' Jir amended to himself.

They went out on the street and flagged a taxi (Mig had taken the limo), Jir gave the driver directions in Patois. Spock enjoyed hearing it again after all these years, he thought of Vulcan: "How was your last trip to Shirkar to renew your license, Jira?"

"It was annoying. I was pregnant and hid it from everyone except the Sas."

"Are they well?"

"Oh, yes, eccentric as ever. I brought Hobiea to show them and they thought he was fascinatin'." Jir felt the humans smile mentally and he smiled back at them mentally.

"Who're the Sas?" Kirk asked.

"Our Vulcan foster family." Jir smiled at him.

"Why were you visiting Vulcan, Jir?" McCoy asked.

"To renew my license to practice law on Vulcan. Every five years Vulcan lawyers must retake and pass the Federation bar exam and, if you are selected in a raffle, to argue a hypothetical case before the law college. It's a pain in the ass but it keeps us all current and on our toes."

'It also makes Vulcan lawyers the most formidable in the Federation,' Spock thought but said, "Did you argue a case before the college?"

"No, thank god, the college follows the court's tradition of making its members shave their heads to appear before it. I have escaped the savages yet again." But it was said with affection. Jir and Ling were fonder than their brothers of Vulcan, although that was sometimes hard to discern.

"Do you practice law on Vulcan?" McCoy asked, "I was rather under the impression you haven't been there much in the past dozen or so years."

"Well, I keep an office there but I've never plead a case in court there or done much else either. All I care about is dancing." Dramatic gesture.

"Seems like a lot of trouble to keep a license you don't use," McCoy commented. "Why d'you bother?"

"I'm sentimental." He paused. "And you never know when you might need your Vulcan license." He looked out the window, "Ah, here we are." The taxi stopped before a dim little cafe and they disembarked. Jir and Spock exchanged some terse Vulcan about who would pay the driver before realizing that Kirk was already paying the driver, who saluted them and drove off.

Jir's entrance did not go unnoticed but there were only a handful of patrons so it was not uproarious. The owner himself brought them wine on the house and asked Jir his pleasure.

"I want to hear an Imman."

Spock looked dubious and turned to watch the proprietor speak to the quartet on the bandstand. The leader, a lanky humanoid in black leather carrying an lyre, addressed Jir, mostly in standard: "Hey there, Fara, what the qwzrk is an Imman?"

"It's kinda a Mirgessian shuffle via Xozishinia on a hot night with a full moon, you dij?"

Spock closed his eyes, hoping this was not leading where he thought it was leading. Kirk and McCoy were curious.

The musician thought about this for a moment: "I dij. Kinda a hep scat laid back wariyo whose mother was frightened by a Rom bolero with a Sorosican accent on a hot night with a full moon, dij?"

"Precisely, we dij." Jir was always impressed to find such refined sensibilities in his vicinity.

The musician swaggered off and engaged his cohorts in a brief discussion. Sharply accented but lyrical music jerked across the dance floor. Spock opened his eyes and was pinned by Jir's: "Let's dance."

The humans froze.

"I have not danced an Imman since the last one I danced with you, Jir, twenty-three point thirty-seven years ago," Spock informed him.

"Then we can pick up where we left off." Jir stood and Spock could not but follow. Kirk and McCoy exchanged looks and leaned back to watch. They were surprised to notice that Spock and Jir were the same height, Jir had seemed smaller.

Immans, as danced rarely on Vulcan, are a very complex dance where the dancers hold their elbows to their sides and their forearms and hands perpendicular to their waists, fingertips touching. The taller partner leads, in this case Jir decided Spock should lead since Jir could follow anything Spock might do. The lead's fingertips point downward touching the following partner's upward pointing fingers. This is the only contact point. The dance is a series of intricate steps and kicks between and around each other's legs while the lead guides the couple in a figure eight. Misstep or inattention often resulted in serious bruising. Mastery of it was a cultural and scholastic requirement for all Vulcan teenagers, owed to its being an ancient court dance, preserved these many centuries. Jir had taken pity on Spock and partnered him for the exam at W. Vul. Prep. because Jir could make even the teenaged Spock look graceful. Twenty-three point thirty-seven years later they not only looked graceful but also very elegant and rather sexy.

Spock found his bearings very quickly, partly because Jir was such a good partner and partly because he wanted to talk. He addressed Jir in Vulcan: "It is beneficial that we can speak privately. Where is your brother Maja?"

"I was wondering if you were going to ask me that." Jir replied in Vulcan, noting with a sigh what a blunt instrument the language was when Spock used it. At least his dancing had improved somewhat.

"I ask you now, Jir."

Jir sighed mentally: "He does not wish to be found." Thoughtfully, he omitted the 'by you' from his statement.

"Why not?"

"It is illogical as well as emotionally painful to have contact with one by whom one has been rejected and with whom one has no possibility of a positive future interaction." Jir intoned in his best neutral voice. 'Sometimes,' Jir thought, 'Vulcan can be a useful language for saying hard things.' Out of the corner of his eye he noticed still and vid cameras on them, decided the proprietor must have called them to exploit Jir's presence in his club.

'Live it up,' Jir thought, 'I shall pass this way and dance with SpockDeVulCheq but once.'

Just then Spock did something so shocking Jir was speechless. He locked his fingers in Jir's and pulled Jir close so they were nose to nose. Spock stared intently into his eyes, Jir was disconcerted, gave up the Imman and simply let Spock move him around the dance floor.

end of part 7

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

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