Title: After the Rescue

Part: NEW 69/73

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 hope the food is good at this thing," Jir sighed as the firm's hoverlimo glided to a stop before Lord Suqiet's home. It was an honor for all the attorneys to be invited to Lord Suqiet's home. Except Jir, who'd had to get out of Stonet's bed to attend. For him, it was an annoyance but he decided to bear it with as much grace as possible. "How soon do you think before we can leave?"

"Certainly not before we've arrived," Storen said firmly.

Jir did not deign to answer this remark as he hauled himself out of the limo. He looked at Smig for inspiration: "Well, Mig. IT'S SHOWTIME."

Storen might have said something but the other side in dress uniforms was arriving so he held his tongue.

"They look better than us, Mig!" Jir stage whispered to his associate.

"More colorful, at least, Jira," Smig graciously allowed.

Greetings were politely exchanged and they proceeded up the walk together.

~

The Hierophant's first thought upon seeing Maja before him at the Klingon Embassy was to have sex, as fast and hard as possible.

This was agreeable to Maja. He was hardly undressed before he was bouncing up and down in the Hierophant's lap. It was something of a relief for the half Mage. The Hierophant was so simple, so direct and so easy to manage. Unlike certain Vulcans he could name. Both of whom appeared to have dumped him and in Spock's case, dumped him again.

'Oh, well, I knew Spock was taken when he got here.' He gave up thought as a wicked orgasm whipped up his spine and back down the front of his body.

It pushed Kroldt over the edge and Maja suddenly felt the cooler jism flooding his bowels. It was nice; he was pleased. They leaned against each other, panting for a while. Eventually, Maja rose and smoothed down his cassock.

"Oh, take that off," Kroldt growled. "You're not leaving here until morning."

"As it pleases you, Master."

~

"Why did the Federation send you in with such a weak case, Commander?" Sjrika, the youngest of the judges, asked bluntly between the second and third course.

"It wasn't such a weak case," Charbon answered for the exhausted Lapham. "It was just not as strong as the Defense's case."

"Ooo, well said!" Jir exclaimed. "I'll have to say that myself someday." 'If I ever lose, that is,' he added mentally.

"Did you enjoy the party, Lieutenant Sarfati?" Smig asked in the void.

"Yes," Sarfati answered, thinking how much more he'd enjoyed making love to Jaroslav Tikel after it. "Very much."

~

"What's KmordriYhet doing here?" Kroldt asked, boosting Maja onto his huge honey colored chest. "He hates you. With good reasons."

"He's after my son, Hraja."

"Why so?"

"Kmordri dragged Hraja into his bed on Romulus," Maja sighed sleepily. "The Klingon wants more, that's all."

"Well," Kroldt mused, trying to visualize Master Ghet's middle son. He'd always been more partial to Tien, so it took a moment for him to conjure up Hraja. "If you like blondes..."

~

"Well, that was illuminating," Jir said to Storen on the ride home after dropping Smig at the theater company's digs.

"It should not come as surprise to you that Hobie was acquitted on lack of evidence," Storen said serenely. "And not because these Judges think he is innocent. They believe in his guilt, as evidenced by the huge fine and probation for parking violations, however, the evidence simply wasn't there to convict on the other charges."

"Ummm," Jir observed. "Why do you 'spose the Federation sent those lawyers into court with such a weak case?"

"Mainly because the prosecution was rushed," Storen replied. "By us. No bail for Hobie equaled no continuances for the prosecution."

"That turned out to be helpful, didn't it?"

"Yes. But you do realize that the Court believed that Hobie would take his ships and run and they wished to avoid a major starship battle in Vulcan's orbit." Storen listened to Jir's silence for a moment. "Would he have run on bail?"

"I dunno, Vulcan," Jir said quietly. "I could no more foresee what Hobie would do on bail than... than I could foresee Stonet returning from Gol. By the way, how's your father?"

"Well."

"Storen."

"He has declared Stonet outlaw. There is nothing to be said or done now."

"Your father's a fool!" Jir felt a distinct chill emanate from the Vulcan. "Okay, he's not a fool. Stonet's a fool; I'm a fool; I'm a fool for Stonet. I love him; I can't help it."

"Jir," Storen said after a moment. "My elder brother has always gone his own way, in most cases this pleased my father. Stonet's decision to retire to Gol was a bad compromise but for my father, it was superior to having our house linked to you and your brothers."

"This is common knowledge, Storen."

"Yes, it is, but here's the part you appear not to understand: Stonet went to Gol because of something you did, not because our father disapproved of you. I know my brother well, Jir, and I warn you now: If you, as you say, love him, then do what you must to please him or he will leave you again." Storen looked hard at Jir: "I do not know what the cause of your rupture was but the effect was not enjoyable for me."

"Quivas."

"Quivas?"

"Quivas," Jir sighed. "We fought about quivas."

"The quiva fruit? Your rupture was over that?"

"It was the final blow for us, yes." Jir looked at his partner, who'd seen him through his grief and madness at losing Stonet. "It was so stupid, Storen, I said quivas were superior to uzusas and you know how much I like to win my arguments." Storen nodded. "Well, I went for blood on quivas' behalf and won my argument at the expense of my lover."

"I hope you have learned something from all of it."

"Of course," Jir snapped. "To hell with quivas; I can't even look at them anymore. And I've mellowed some as well."

"That is disputable."

"Well, as you please, Vulcan. How does your father's position affect you? In regards to me and Stonet?"

"My father will not speak of or acknowledge Stonet," Storen explained. "So I do not bring it up with him."

"Prudent," Jir observed.

"I am a Vulcan, Jira." Storen admitted. "However, I would like to see my brother. May I visit him at the Sas?"

"Of course," Jir said. "You're a big hero for getting Hobie off the hook and they've always had a high opinion of you. In fact, they prefer you to Stonet; they find him a little too mystical. They could never stand those Vulcan Institute theoretical linguists, like Stonet. Oh, by the way, you have a nephew you didn't know about." Jir explained the Hobiea situation and waited for a reaction. "Say something, Vulcan!" he demanded when none came.

"You're a madcap, Jir," Storen said at last, as the limo arrived at his door. "All you Talljets are madcaps. But I cannot imagine a life without you and I thank you for my brother's life and look forward to meeting my nephew and his brothers." Storen stepped out and was gone before Jir could answer. In many ways it was a good thing as Jir had no answer but tears not even he could explain.

* * *

"Well, I'd almost forgotten how comfortable a Vulcan robe was." Maja whipped his flowing charcoal colored skirts around him.

"Yeah, a loose baggy sack with nothing on underneath." Hobie shook out the skirts of his ocher draperies.

"I don't know what you've got on but I'm wearing a loincloth," Maja informed him. "I say we're lucky the Sas kept our party clothes for us. Ling says were broke again."

"He just sold my favorite ship!"

"That was your favorite ship?"

"They're all my favorite ships."

"Well, we're not paid yet and most of it goes to pay your parking ticket fine," Maja said dryly. "I think if I go straighten out the Certegians in the Ertig system, the Sovla system will fall in line with it. That would solve part of Ling's currency crisis."

"Only if you can kick out the Lashodrian pirates."

"I'm sure I can," Maja said. "Even with only sixty ships, I think so." He turned to the door. " Hemzjit! Fighting the Lashodrians will be easier than this fucking recital you talked me into." Maja got a little snappy when he was nervous.

Hobie kept his cool. "I asked you to sing, you said yes. I don't remember having to persuade you much."

"Humph!" Maja swept down the stairs and into one of the music rooms in a fair imitation of Jir in high dudgeon.

They settled themselves on cushions on the small rug covered stand. The Commune had unearthed a cache of ancient rugs in the mansion and the rug the three musicians sat on was almost as interesting to the Vulcans in the audience as they were. It was of a design that most Vulcans only see in history texts.

Hobie picked up his borrowed lyre. "I have to replace this string, Strat."

Strat handed him a coil of wire.

Because he'd never had it and couldn't get it, Hobie truly believed that sehlat gut was the far superior lyre string. The forgotten truth was that sehlat gut had so much elasticity it required retuning after every song, sometimes during the song. It had been a hell for the ancient Vulcans but Hobie didn't know this and would have refused to believe it anyway. "How do you play on this thing, Strat? These pegs are about as subtle as a Klingon battle charge." Hobie looked up and winked at Kzost seated between Voren and Jir, who had Hobiea on his lap.

"I don't have any problems with it, Hobie," Strat informed him. "It's my best lyre. Would you rather play this one?" He held out an equally excellent instrument that only he would be able to find flaws in.

"Nah," Hobie sighed. "I played that one once in the jailhouse, it's worse. I'll stick to this one."

Maja picked up a modern Brnia, now called a Svrava, but still a long necked four string drone instrument played by singers. He smiled sympathetically at Strat: "Had you forgotten what a hell it is to make music with Hobie?"

"No, nor had I forgotten what a rewarding hell it was."

"Oo-hoo, touche, Vulcan!" Maja, now that he was on stage, felt lighthearted. He looked out at the assembled Vulcans, Terrans and Klingons and felt invincible. Even Sarek was there, paying more attention to Maja than he had in days and that was a good thing. Spock was there. In addition to his lovers, he'd brought a beautiful little dark woman, who looked on with intelligent attention. Maja could feel that she knew something about this music, perhaps Spock had taught her.

'Once again, Spock's backing the wrong horse,' Hobie had said after telling him that Spock was bonded to Kirk and not McCoy as they had originally thought.

Maja switched his vision to energy field and confirmed it for himself. 'Damn you, VulCheq, must you always pick the one that will bring the most sorrow?' Disgusted, Maja went back to seeing in color and line.

Hobie finished stringing his lyre. Maja tuned the drone to his own voice and the lyre players tuned to his instrument. They paused for a moment to tune into each other and then they were off into an ancient hunting chant that had become an extremely long ballad about incidents no one could really comprehend anymore. It was hard music; hard to understand, hard to listen to. The vocal style had evolved so the singer could be heard over large areas of desert. It was a cross between a nasal whine and a scream of terror. Maja was one of the best singers of his generation in this style, he made even Strat swoon with his technique. The Vulcans enjoyed it as much as they enjoyed anything, the rest of the audience wondered what kind of a civilization could survive on such terrible music. Terrible and interminable. Each chorus had a small silence at the beginning and it was in the silence before the fifteenth chorus that a small voice spoke out: "Why is uncle Maja making that terrible noise?" Hobiea asked.

"An excellent question, child," Kzost said conversationally.

Three sets of fingers froze over their instruments.

"You don't like this music," Maja said, pinning Kzost with his driest stare. "Hobiea?" He added pointedly.

"No. It's terrible. It's ..." the child found it impossible to continue with Jir's finger over his lips.

"You know," Hobie drawled. "He might be right, that Hobiea."

"I would say," Strat opined. "That fourteen choruses might be enough ethnomusicology for one evening."

Maja nodded. "Are we taking requests, Strat?"

"Hochofedra," the Vulcan shrugged.

'Oh, Strat, you are so adorable tonight,' Maja thought but said: "Okay, Hobiea, whaddayawanna hear?"

"That song about the girl."

The band was completely stumped until Tien came to the rescue: "I think he means that love song wariyo that was so popular on Dhrgestera last year."

"Oh." Maja got 'we know it' nods from Hobie and Strat. "Good call. Hemzjit Hemzjit Hemzjit," he chanted off the rhythm and they were off into one of last year's loveliest melodies. From there they progressed to dance tunes, more love songs and even, in a fit of musical nostalgia, pop songs from their Vulcan youths. It turned out to be a wonderful evening, for the audience and everybody.

"I must get Hobiea a little thank you gift," Kirk murmured to McCoy during the break.

"Yes," the doctor murmured back. "I thought we were really in for it until he piped up."

"Vulcan music is hard," Hobie said, materializing beside Kirk. "But, it was, and is, a hard culture. Just look at Spock. He's half as tough as nails."

"You'll excuse me," McCoy said icily and walked away.

"Huh," Hobie observed, standing a little closer to the human than was really necessary. "Another Spock defender."

"Dr. McCoy does not like you," Kirk informed him.

"Oh? Why?"

"Ask him."

"I'd rather ask you," Hobie said suavely. "In fact, I'd rather forget everybody else and just talk to you for awhile."

Kirk found this flattering and alarming at the same time and was glad to see Chekov at his elbow.

"Admiral Jessup would like a word with you, Captain," the ensign said, politely.

"You'll excuse me," Kirk said to Hobie as he moved away.

"Oh, of anything, anything," the pirate drawled. "Having a good time, Chekov?"

"Yes, thank you."

"So am I," Hobie said, draping an arm around the youngster's shoulders. "At least, I am now." And steered him to the group around T'Paga, the perfect woman, to whom Chekov was introduced.

"I was enjoying your hunting chant, Maja," Voren said. "I've been away from Vulcan so long it was pleasant to hear the old music, especially when you perform it so well."

"Thank you, Voren," Maja said, smiling graciously at his beloved Kzost's beloved.

"I'm rather enjoying the memory of it more than when it was happening," Kzost said pleasantly.

"Are you enjoying the music, Lieutenant Uhura?" Maja asked, ignoring Kzost.

"Very much, thank you," she answered. "I was even enjoying the Vulcan music."

"You seemed to understand it. Where did you learn?"

"From listening to it and talking to Spock about it."

"He does know a lot about music," Maja said, remembering singing for Spock in their adolescence.

"I was reading about your homeworld, Maja. Do you know any Magidrian songs?" Uhura asked. There had been no musical or cultural information about Magidrian whatsoever in the databanks.

"I, uh," Maja fumbled, thinking fast and coming up blank. "I know some songs in the Patois. I don't think I know any in Magidrian." He looked searchingly at Voren. "I don't think I know any Magidrian, actually. Isn't that strange, Vulcan? I never thought about it before."

"What, then, did you speak there?" Uhura, something of a linguist herself, asked.

"Patois, Klingonese, Romulan, Standard, Gaelic..."

"Gaelic?" Uhura asked. "That's a Terran language."

"I knew a Terran that spoke it," Maja said, smiling at the memory of MacQuarrie's pleasure in speaking Gaelic with him. "He taught me."

"Taught you?" Voren asked.

"Well, whatever," Maja said, defensively.

"I have a theory about Magidrian and its lack of language," Voren said. "I could not find an indigenous living Magidrian language in my study of the inhabited areas of the planet. I believe this is because the Magidrians have evolved beyond the physical form of language and when they do need to communicate with non or very limited telepaths, they scan the language out of the other being's telefield. That's why you quickly acquire the language of any species you encounter, as long as you remain unshielded."

"Huh," Maja grunted. "Did you tell this to SaBrzia?"

"Yes."

"What did he say?"

"He said it was fascinating," Voren said. "And could I prove it."

"Can you?"

"No. Whatever welcome was on Magidrian is gone now. Any expeditions there have turned back due to fatigue or depression or some other mysterious ailment. An entire Rzigilian expedition committed mass suicide there."

"That's weird."

"Not really, Maja," Kzost said. "The Mage have closed up shop. They did it just as we were leaving. I was in a big hurry to get off that planet at the end. I never knew why until Voren figured out that the Mage simply sent out bad vibes to drive everybody off and keep the rest of the universe away."

"I didn't call it 'bad vibes,'" Voren gently corrected. "I said I thought it was a dissonant radiant telepathic energy field."

Kzost and Maja exchanged glances, nodding: "Bad vibes," they said in unison.

Maja saw Hobie and Strat heading back for more music. "Excuse me, I'm on," he said, heading to the platform and the lyre players.

The trio played for a while longer and then the Sas served another excellent supper and everybody went home well before dawn.

* * *

"How did we get roped into this?" Hobie wondered, looking out over the packed in auditorium audience for Jir and SaDrosta's dance recital in downtown Shirkar.

"Jir and SaDrosta asked us and we said yes," Strat informed him. He didn't like playing for dancers, he considered it barbaric for anyone to be doing anything but listening while he played, but he had never been able to say no to the combined forces of Jir and SaDrosta. He had been saying no to SaDrosta alone for the many years since Jir stopped dancing on Vulcan.

This was actually an historic occasion; no one had seen Jir and SaDrosta dance together on Vulcan in twenty years. No one had seen Jir dance in the Vulcan style in that long as well. His company had front row seats to see this remarkable event.

"Madness," Maja announced, settling himself between Strat and Hobie. "I have a bad feeling about this dress I'm wearing." Maja had arrived to find in his dressing room, not a Vulcan robe, but a long, full and intricately pleated gown that belted at the waist. It was quite flattering on him and it was what Vulcan court dancers had worn pre-Surak. It was what Jir and SaDrosta would also be wearing in the performance. "They better not think I'm dancing with them. I'm taking enough of a risk sitting up here singing for them as it is," he grumbled, arranging his skirts around him.

"I agree," Hobie said, gloomily. "We should be behind a screen or something. The way they whip those skirts around, we could lose an eye or be seriously maimed up here."

"And I don't even have an instrument to hide behind," Maja sulked. It was true, in this style of music, Maja's job was to clap out a rhythmic pattern for the dancers as he sang. His role was, in fact, to keep the whole performance together.

"Well, Maja," Strat said, tuning his third best lyre. "Set your rhythms fast and we'll be out of here in half the time it usually takes."

"And Jir and SaDrosta will kill us slowly when they catch us," Hobie put in. "No, there is simply some suffering that cannot be avoided and this be it, alas."

They and the audience fell silent as Jir and SaDrosta came on stage in their wide weighted pleats and took up their first positions. Maja set the tempo in ten beats and they began.

Vulcan court dancing is an amazing artefact from the pre-reform civilization. Its earliest origins are a mystery but the first traceable trajectory leads back to warrior dances in homage to the tribal chieftain.

The performance was an irresistible whirl of light and color. All the offworlders as well as the Vulcans were entranced and felt time suspend itself. Jir and SaDrosta were strong dancers, but no stronger than their peers seated in the front row with binoculars. The difference was in the passion and beauty they infused in their dancing that swept up their audience and made them possibly the best of their generation. It was also to their advantage that they were both beautiful and pre-reform court dress was extremely fetching on them.

Or at least that was what Spock was thinking but more along the lines of how much McCoy's black robe had reminded him of this costume.

The Klingons wondered briefly why they didn't have more Vulcan concubines in the Empire but then remembered that Vulcan beauty did not make up for the Vulcan personality.

The Terrans simply enjoyed themselves, especially Uhura; she never got enough live performance and was completely swept away.

Maja, on the other hand, was swept up, bodily, by Jir and SaDrosta.

'I knew this was coming,' he thought savagely, dancing the simple steps that all singers learned so they could be acknowledged at the end of the performance with the dancers. Maja looked utterly charming dancing but he was more pleased when it was over. They bowed politely and retired for the intermission.

Jir and SaDrosta retired to change out of their sweaty gowns and rest awhile but the musicians waded directly into the audience for drinks and snacks.

Hobie gravitated surreptitiously to Kirk's side: "Enjoying yourself, Kirk?"

"Yes, thank you."

"Doing anything after the show?"

"Yes."

"Like what?" Hobie asked when he realized he had to.

"I'm dining with Sarek, Spock and McCoy."

"Why don't you ditch them and I'll show you some fun in the Port," Hobie suggested with ardor.

"I think not," Kirk said coolly.

"Why not?"

"I'd rather dine with Sarek, Spock and Dr. McCoy."

"You don't know what you're missing, Kirk."

"I don't want to find out either." Kirk caught Spock's eye across the room and excused himself. Hobie wandered off to find a drink and regroup.

~

"I didn't know you could dance like that," the Hierophant murmured to Maja.

"Yes," Maja drawled, whipping open his fan and using it. "It's part of that hellish Vulcan education I've been trying to overcome in our religion, Master."

They strolled pleasantly to where Sarek and T'Pau were standing with Commodore Yakolev and Sdiz.

"Well done, SaMaja," T'Pau greeted him. "When was the last time you danced like that?"

"Last time you saw me, T'Pau," Maja said. "And then once more at the second party for T'Paga and Spoda's wedding." T'Paga had asked this same group to perform at her party and the perfect woman was never denied. Of course not, Strat and SaDrosta esteemed T'Paga and Spoda as much as the Talljets adored them. Maja and Hobie had left Vulcan a few weeks later.

From behind his fan, Maja winked at Sarek and excused himself; it was time to begin the second half of the program.

"Odd that I never noticed how attractive SaMaja was before," Sdiz observed.

"I believe he has only recently grown into his looks, Lord Sdiz," T'Pau said, moving off to return to her seat.

The performance was a huge success and was repeated once more and never again. Those involved became far too busy with other projects to have the time or energy necessary for another performance like it.

* * *

end of part 69

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

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