Title: After the Rescue

Part: NEW 70/73

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.

"So what are you getting out of Talljet?" Jessup asked Chekov. He had just debriefed Scott and Sulu: both had gathered quite a bit of useful information from Dolo-fra and Neria-Tza respectively. Especially Scott, since apparently without Hobie around, Dolo-fra was simply starved for someone to talk engines with.

"Well, nothing, really," Chekov said.

"Nothing? You've been with him for days. What do you talk about?"

"Food."

"Food?"

This was true. Hobie liked to cook and was spending most of his time in the Sas' kitchen. He kept Chekov with him.

"Are you having sex with Talljet?" Jessup asked bluntly.

"No, sir."

Also true, Hobie was behaving the perfect gentleman with Chekov. Every night he escorted the ensign to his chaste little bed in the Sa mansion and tucked him in. Hobie then immediately went to his workshop in the Port where he had so far made love to Jaroslav Tikel, Thomas Albany, Dmitri Grushinkev, and Carlos Sunna, in that order and at least once if not more than once. At least they knew what they were doing.

"Why not?"

"He has not made any overtures."

"Have you?"

"No!"

Jessup looked down the table at Kirk's bland face. Finding no help there he returned to Chekov. "Why not?"

"It had not occurred to me, sir."

"Give it some thought, Ensign. You're dismissed." He waited for Chekov to leave the room. "Spock, what's Talljet up to?"

"I do not know, sir."

"Kirk?"

"He seems to be visiting old friends, performing on the Vulcan lyre and playing with his children and nephews," Kirk said.

"The Fleet is arranging to buy one of Talljet's starships through a third party," Jessup said after some silence went by. "It might be a waste of money if, as Scott reports, the main difference between our ships and his is that his are manned by vulcanoids and are more powerful because they need less in the way of human comforts. What's your opinion, Spock?"

"That is possible, sir," Spock said. "However, I doubt that entirely accounts for Hobie's success. When I visited his ships in dry dock, I noted that each one was slightly different. I believe each of his ships is unique in its own way, as perhaps a prototype that never reaches its final form because advances are made and superseded by the next model. If Hobie has continued the train of thought he began here on Vulcan, then his ships are still operating on dilithium crystals but on a different spectrum of the crystal's light field. Unfortunately, you will not be able to know until you have one of these ships in your possession and I doubt Hobie will sell you one of his more advanced designs."

"In his place," Jessup growled, "I wouldn't." The admiral got to his feet. "We're finishing up with the Klingons today. If nothing else goes right at least we got the Rovirin situation straightened out."

Kirk nodded. He'd been attending the negotiations with Jessup and thought the solution of sharing the planet was a good one. It gave the Federation unlimited access to non-aligned space and it mollified the Klingons enough that they were willing to consider closer ties to the Federation. The agreement was also binding because the Hierophant and General KmordriYhet were acting directly for their clans. How fortunate that they both happened to come to Vulcan at the same time.

* * *

"Why not?"

"I despise him."

"You're being difficult, Hraja." Maja, in his serene Master Ghet mode, paced his studio. "Kmordri is no worse than any other of his species. You just need to learn how to manage him, that's all."

"I do not wish to manage him," Hraja said as firmly as he could; he was unused to arguing with his Master. "I do not wish to have anything to do with him at all."

Maja sat down across the table from his middle son. "Look, Hraja, I know he frightened you..."

"He raped me."

"Okay, he raped you. You don't seem permanently damaged."

"Amanda helped me."

'Direct hit, childe,' Maja thought ruefully.

"I would have died without her," Hraja continued.

"How so?"

"I would have killed myself."

Maja doubted this but said nothing. "Do you still want to be a Klingon Master?" he asked after some silence.

"Yes."

"You can't do that outside the Commune," Maja said. "Once you are in the Commune and at work on a commission for the greater glory of the Most Holy Klingon Church you will be in Kmordri's realm and nothing will keep you from him..."

"We always had the Haat's protection," Hraja protested.

"Yes, but Kmordri didn't know about you then," Maja said reasonably. "Now that he knows what he wants, which is you, not even the Haats can keep you safe from him."

"Is he that strong?"

"No, he's smart, Hraja. He'll offer the Haats something juicy and they'll bargain you away in a heartbeat. Because they're smart, too." Maja sighed. "And, frankly, Hraja, we in the Commune aren't that important in the larger Haat clan scheme of things. We were safe for a long time because of the Hierophant and because we were so far away from the power center. But those days are gone, child. You can now either make the best deal you can with Kmordri, and he's making you a decent offer, and he can keep you and the Commune safe, or you can make a life outside of the Commune and the Empire and hope for the best."

"Are those my only choices?" Hraja asked, horrified.

"Yes."

Hraja pulled himself together. "I will think about

it."

"Think hard. He'll be here any minute."

The MageQuad knocked his chair over as he leapt to his feet in alarm. He spun as Bhotebe scratched on the door and ushered Kmordri in. Hraja backed around the table until he was behind Maja's chair.

"Master Ghet," Kmordri bowed graciously. "Hraja." He took a seat at the table. "Has he agreed?" the Klingon asked Maja.

"Not exactly."

"What do you mean?"

"There is still some hesitation."

Kmordri frowned at Hraja and then softened his gaze, which was, in many ways, more frightening than the scowl. "Why ever?" he asked the object of his desire.

"You disgust me," Hraja croaked when he could find any voice at all.

"So? You please me," Kmordri said. "And that's all that really matters, isn't it?"

Hraja had no reply and was quite relieved when Jir stuck his head around the door.

"I," Jir proclaimed, "smell blood." He looked at the tableau before him. "Now, let me see. You, Klingon, are not supposed to be anywhere near my nephew, Hraja. Is this not so?"

"I am Master Ghet's guest," Kmordri snarled.

"Then Master Ghet has fucking awful taste in guests," Hobie said murderously as he stepped around Jir. "Hraja, Neria-Tza and Oza-Tol are outside. Leave the room and stay with them until I or your uncle Jir come for you." He waited until Hraja had slipped out of the room. "Klingon, I would kill you now but I'm told the peace and prosperity of the galaxy depends on you and the Hierophant returning to your homeworld in one piece. I want you to forget my nephew and, just so nobody is surprised later, I am going to kill you the very first opportunity I get off Vulcan. Understand me?"

Kmordri looked at Master Ghet: "Your brother is mad, priest."

Maja nodded: "I tried, Klingon."

"You failed." Kmordri rose and left the room. He was gone from Vulcan that day and never returned in his life, which was long because Hobie never got around to acting on his threat. Just as well, Kmordri pined for Hraja until the day he died. It was a rather fitting punishment overall.

Maja surveyed his elder brothers: "You two are possessed of such arrogance. You're willing to trade the good of the entire Commune and all our ventures to spare Hraja a little discomfort."

"It is not necessary to prostitute Hraja to Kmordri," Hobie growled. "Or to anyone."

"But it's fine if I whore for you with the Hierophant?"

"No one asked you to do that, Maja," Jir said.

"Shut up, Jir," Maja snarled. "You were curled in your Vulcan bed while I was protecting my family in the only way open to me in the Empire."

Jir was silenced.

"Those days are over, Maja," Hobie said.

"Are they, Nolo?" Maja asked. "We have seventy-nine ships, an unemployed Klingon Commune, an out of work theater company and a homeless whorehouse. Just how long will that hold us in the Zones, brothers?"

Hobie was silenced.

"And when we are fighting for our lives again," Maja continued, "I hope you will remember that you threw away a liaison with the next head of the Yhet clan so Hraja would not be 'prostituted.' You've forgotten your Vulcan educations, remember, the needs of the many and the needs of the few."

"Maja," Hobie said at length. "Hraja is your son. He is your little baby. You love him. You don't want bad things to happen to him."

"Kmordri is not the worst thing ..."

"Hraja is terrified of that Klingon," Hobie continued. (Jir was wisely staying out of this one.) "You are refusing to see that. The difference between you and Hraja is that you are not now nor were you ever afraid of the Hierophant, you were raised to be more pragmatic and ruthless than Hraja and you're tougher all around."

"Hraja is tough, he ..."

"Not," Hobie cut in, "like you; like us." He paused to stare his Noli down. "And you know it."

"All right," Maja sighed at last. "I'll figure something else out." He shot Hobie a sulky glare as if daring him to gloat.

"Don't despair, MajaYaja," Hobie comforted. "You still have the Hierophant and the Haats; the sun in the morning and the moon at night."

"Oh, bravo, thank you, Hobie," Maja snarled. "I feel better already." He sighed. "You do realize that I can't protect Hraja in the Commune if he returns to it?"

"I don't think he should go back to the Commune," Hobie said. "Nor MajaKhat; it's too dangerous."

"But not too dangerous for me?" Maja asked.

"No, Maja, because you were never Kmordri's concubine nor were you ever the Emperor of the Combined Klong-Rom empire," Hobie reminded him. "You're just St. Gozine's reincarnation. I think you'll be safe."

"When are you leaving, Maja?" Jir asked quietly after a moment.

"In two days," Maja said. "I'm taking sixty ships and putting Malira, Qwuushi, Ebiv, and Movra in commands..."

"Kalzat is complaining that you aren't taking him," Hobie cut in.

"I have a bad feeling about taking him," Maja said.

"You need him, Maja," Hobie said.

"I could go," Jir offered.

"No offense, Jira," Hobie said. "But Kalzat is a better commander and tactician than you, even if he does not dance as well."

"How bad is your feeling, Maja?" Jir asked.

"Very bad."

"Try to feel better about it because you need him and you're taking him," Hobie said, rising. "Come, this is Voren and Kzost's last evening here. We're spending it en famille."

The three brothers shook off what lingering negativity was between them and went down to their families, adopted, spiritual and otherwise.

* * *

'There was a fire.'

The Talljets, JetCheqs, Sas, Stez, Stonet, Kalzat, Khatanya and Chekov had a lively farewell dinner for SaVoren and Kzost. Kzost and his ships would be escorting the Hierophant back to the Empire. Then Kzost would return to his semi-retired state, far away from the Empire in a system heavily populated with vulcanoids, where Voren did not attract too much attention.

'When I was very little.'

The party settled into one of the ground floor drawing rooms for tea. Hobie played Shakaars on his borrowed lyre so Jir and Khatanya could finish the dance Stonet's return from Gol had interrupted.

'One night one of the women pulled me out of bed.'

Soon everyone was chatting and relaxed. Kzost, after serious scrutiny by the Sas, had been accepted as a member of the clan provided he behaved himself.

'It was very cold. Many buildings were on fire.'

Kzost said that he had behaved himself for the past thirty years and he thought he could probably continue to do so.

'People were running and screaming everywhere.'

"You know, Hobie," Kzost asked while the MageCheq was taking a break from playing. The Talljets were sitting in their usual formation: Hobie and Jir on the outside, Ling and Maja between them. "I was wondering, how did you and your brothers end up at that monastery?"

"There was a fire," Hobie said quietly. Jir's eyes went out. Maja put his arm protectively around Ling.

"You mean the huge fire in the pleasure district?" Kzost asked. Hobie nodded yes. "That happened about a year before I arrived. No one ever knew how it started."

"The new pleasure district was a tinderbox as well, Kzost," Voren reminded him. "One spark and the whole thing would have conflaged."

"So you remember this fire, do you?" Kzost asked.

"Yes, vividly," Hobie resumed. "I was trying to keep up with one of the women but I got lost in the crowd. People were running and screaming and I was lost and crying. I found a doorway to rest in. I think I fell asleep because next I remember it was near dawn and the fires were dying. I went looking for some of the women. I found Jir; he was trying to wake up a dead cat. He had some food and he shared it with me. We found Maja and Ling nearby. They were so little. They were tied together at the waist to keep them together. Maja was carrying a sleeping Ling and he was so tired. At first he didn't want to let me carry Ling, he was afraid he would lose him. So we found a longer piece of string to tie them together, long enough so I could carry Ling and Maja could follow beside, and he agreed. He held my elbow and Jir's hand and we walked and walked, looking for something we could never find. I remember this because that's when we bonded, I remember I could suddenly know and feel what they were feeling and they me. And that's when I stopped feeling so scared. I was still scared but not crazy scared."

"I remember the same thing, Hobie," Jir said quietly.

The room had fallen silent to listen. "How old were you, Hobie?" SaVoren asked.

"Eight or nine." Hobie said.

"Do you remember this Jir?" Voren asked.

"Some."

"Maja?"

"No. I remember something bad happened and then Ling and I lived in the monastery with Jir and Hobie," Maja said. "But not exactly what happened."

"Ling?"

"No. The earliest I remember is living in the monastery with the Talljets," Ling said softly, nestling against Jir.

'Dearest god,' Kzost thought. 'Then Maja was...'

"Maja was four or five, Ling two or three, Jir six or seven," Hobie ticked off in answer to Kzost's thought. "At least I think so, none of us really know when we were born," he sighed. "Anyway, we roamed around, looking for our homes but we couldn't find them. Everything was burnt, people were picking through the rubble, taking away the dead. We were hungry and cold and didn't know what to do. We saw an old woman and asked her if she knew where our houses were. She didn't but she took us to her little room and gave us something to eat and a place to sleep. We woke later and the old woman took us up to the monastery's garden and told us to stay there until the monks found us. She said she would pray for us; I think she did. The monks did find us later and Father Polmira decided to let us stay with them. We were lucky, I guess, lots of people starved that winter because of that fire. We never saw the old woman again, I never saw any of the women I remember from my house, Jir, Ling and Maja can't remember anyone from their houses so they don't know if any survived. No one ever came looking for us, maybe they just forgot us or thought we died or perhaps they all died, after all." The room was still and silent. "Kzost, why did you take an interest in us?" Hobie finally asked. "I saw Khatanya leaving sacks of food in the monastery garden, I thought it was your orders."

"It was."

"Well, why? It's seems so unusual for a Klingon."

"I'm an unusual Klingon."

"But why?" Hobie persisted.

"Because," Kzost sighed, "I liked watching Maja and you Talljets run around in the bazaar. You all had such spirit and fire, even as children. It took some of the boredom off Magidrian for me. I liked watching Maja stuff his face with cake but only if he knew there was enough to take back to you and Ling and Jir, too. I thought that was very sweet, loyal and honorable," he continued. "And I hoped that he would grow up and dance a Shakaar with me but he never has."

"Well that's easy to remedy!" Maja leapt to his feet and reached for his favorite of all Klingons. "Play, Hobie! Life is short; no time to waste!"

Hobie picked up his lyre and played, watching Maja and Kzost dance their first and last Shakaar. Others joined them and the party resumed in good but more sober spirits. As he played he mused over a stanza of one of Ling's poems:

'memories do not hurt you

certainly they can

the past is always with us

never turn away'

The next morning the Klingons left Vulcan with a peace agreement between the Empire and the Federation that endures to this day.

Later in the evening of the next day, Maja left Vulcan's orbit at the head of sixty ships with Malira, Ebiv, Movra, Qwuushi and Kalzat in commands. They were bound to calm and reclaim the Etrig and its sister systems in the interests of the brothers Talljet.

* * *

"How old am I, Jir?" Hobie demanded, driving the aircar as they were leaving one of SaGolia's uproarious tea parties.

"Somewhere between forty and death," Jir informed him.

"I'm forty-four," Hobie fumed. "Nearly forty-five and that old woman treats me like a child."

"She treats everyone younger than T'Pau like a child, Hobie," Jir soothed. "Don't take it personally. It's part of Vulcan culture. One more reason not to live here, remember?"

"And parking," Hobie snapped

"Parking?"

"Parking," Hobie snarled. "Downtown Shirkar parking. There isn't any. It's a crime, it's unnatural, it's ..."

"The city planners want people to take public transportation, Hobie."

"It's barbaric."

"Hobie, why are we downtown anyway?" Jir asked.

"I want to see if I can find a place to park."

"Hobie."

"Okay, I have to talk to Sarek about Polmira," Hobie said, swerving to the curb. "I promised I'd meet him at his office, that's all." He hauled himself out of the vehicle and slammed the door.

"Is it wise to see him alone?" Jir asked sliding behind the wheel.

"Yes. Why not? Not to worry, it's over and done between us," Hobie said coolly. "Even the damage to his career is repaired with the peace deal he, T'Pau and the Terrans worked out with the Klingons."

"Hey!" Jir called. "How will you get home?"

"I'll take public transportation, Jir," Hobie threw over his shoulder as he entered the Vulcan Interplanetary Ministry office building.

Sarek met him in the lobby and suggested they go to Hobie's villa in the mountains and talk. It would be more private.

Hobie's second sight tried to kick in but it was viciously suppressed. The MageCheq knew a really excellent bad idea when he saw it and gladly flung wisdom, propriety and good sense to the wind on the Forge as he readily agreed. They took Sarek's car to the mountains.

* * *

"So what are you getting out of Talljet?" Jessup asked Chekov a few days later. He had just debriefed Scott, who had no new information since Dolo-fra had gone off with Master Ghet's expedition to the Ertig system, and Sulu, whose observations on the various ways Neria-Tza liked to be tied up shed no new light on Hobie Talljet's activities. Chekov was Jessup's only hope, god help him (Jessup, that is). "Well?"

Chekov dutifully recounted everything that had happened since his last meeting with the admiral: Several parties - Chekov had been in the vortex of the Shirkar A-list season for days - family dinners; shopping in the Port; a visit to Hobie's workshop in the Port, which contained a very large bed and very little related to shipbuilding that Chekov could see; the dinner for Kzost and Voren. The ensign included the story of the fire and the gossip that Hobie threatened to kill KmordriYhet.

Jessup considered panicking at this last but then realized if Hobie wanted KmordriYhet dead, he would already be dead. The reality was that Kmordri and the Hierophant were safely on their way to the Klingon homeworld and all was well.

"I did, ah, try to take your advice, sir," Chekov said, breaking into Jessup's Klingon thoughts.

"Which was?" Jessup asked, looking into the ensign's earnest young face.

"To seduce Hobie."

"Oh? How'd it go?"

"My first opportunity was the night of the party for Admiral Kzost and SaVoren's departure.

"The party broke up very late and Hobie took me upstairs as usual. We were in my bedroom and he was helping me undress. When I laid down, he pulled the covers up and sat on the edge of the bed. He kissed me on the forehead, this was normal.

"I usually just say goodnight, but that night I put my arms around his neck. He looked surprised but did not resist when I pulled him down into a kiss. He kissed me back but then gently broke it.

"I said, 'Stay with me tonight.'

"He looked deeply into my eyes and said, 'I'm just not ready to go that far yet, Chekov. Will you wait? I think I'm worth the wait.'"

(Hobie actually had a date with Carlos Sunna and wasn't psyched up for the time and effort it would have taken to deflower Chekov just right then. Tomorrow, the next day but not that night.)

"What did you say, Ensign?" Jessup asked, fascinated.

"I said 'of course we'll wait' and he left and I went to sleep."

"Ah," Jessup said in the silence.

"I haven't seen him at the Sas' in two days," Chekov concluded.

"Odd, that's about the last time anyone saw Lord Sarek," Jessup observed. "You're dismissed, Ensign."

* * *

"I'm surprised you kept this place all these years," Hobie murmured as he walked through the elegantly appointed rooms of his villa.

"It is still yours, Hobie," Sarek said quietly.

"I must owe you a bundle for upkeep," Hobie looked over his shoulder.

"You owe me nothing, Hobie," Sarek said, stepping onto the secluded balcony. "I thought if you Talljets are short of cash you could borrow from me until you sell this villa. Or simply borrow from me." He turned to find Hobie watching him closely, tapping gently on his shields. "I am related to you by blood."

"And more, Sait, or have you forgotten Maja's sacrifices?"

"I have forgotten nothing."

They stood in silence, watching the mountains darken from coral to umber.

"What about Polmira?" Hobie asked at length.

"You will leave here in six weeks," Sarek said. "What are your plans for your children?"

"I might leave them here with their cousins in the Commune," Hobie said. "They're happy here, they're doing well in school, Polmira's madly in love with Strig, why I don't know, but I never understood Spock and Maja or Jir and Stonet." He looked hard at Sarek. "I still don't understand Jir and Stonet, but hochofedra," he shrugged.

"Your children and Maja's seem inordinately fond of the Lady Amanda," Sarek said. "If they stay here my wife and I will offer whatever assistance is appropriate and that you and Maja approve of."

"Are you through with Maja, Sait?"

"I think he is through with me for the moment, Hobie."

"Well, the Hierophant is important to the Commune."

"And now the Hierophant is gone, so is Maja."

"He was the only one of us that could go do what is needed, Sarek."

"And what is needed?"

"Nothing I can tell you about, please don't ask me."

They were silent again. "Very well," Sarek said at last. "If and when Maja decides to return to me, I will take those decisions at that time."

"Prudent, Vulcan, wise," Hobie murmured to the dusk. He moved close and pressed his lips to Sarek's. "You never loved me, did you?"

"I am a Vulcan, Hobie. You got as much as I had to give."

"But Maja got more," Hobie whispered intently. "You can still see it on both of you."

"Different circumstances," Sarek murmured, pulling Hobie close and kissing him deeply. "A different life."

Hobie relaxed in Sarek's arms. There was that, that sense of safety and serenity he had with this man and no other. They would never build an empire on it but they might have a few nice days together.

* * *

end of part 70

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