Newsgroups: alt.startrek.creative Path: moe.ksu.ksu.edu!zaphod.mps.ohio-state.edu!mips!darwin.sura.net!nntp.msstate.edu!Ra.MsState.Edu!plp1 From: plp1@Ra.MsState.Edu (pat parker) Subject: CORRECTED REPOST; _T'Selar_ part 1 Message-ID: Sender: news@ra.msstate.edu Nntp-Posting-Host: ra.msstate.edu Organization: Mississippi State University Date: Sun, 12 Jul 1992 02:30:50 GMT Lines: 447 Star Trek The Next Generation _T'Selar_ _Part_I_ By Patrick Parker, June 1992 * * * * * The doctor was not wearing her blue and black Starfleet regulation medical uniform. Instead she wore a coarse, neutral-colored pullover with a hood. The hood was pulled back allowing the wind to blow through her inky hair. She turned around slowly, surveying her surroundings; a barren plain strewn with rocks and sand. Her face was the color of the sand, the color of slightly oxidized brass. As she turned toward the morning sun, its red rays tinged her face an earthy-grey tone. She lifted her face and watched the sun rising, her nictitating membranes turning her dark eyes a milky color. She relished the heat of the crimson orb. On the Enterprise, the normal temperature was twenty degrees below her comfort zone. As she stood facing the sun, her pointed ears picked up words floating through the air. She was listening to poetry, though few humans would have recognized it as such; the language and rhythms being alien to their ears. Even translated into Federation Common, it would have seemed more of a computer program - or a scientific paradigm, than a poem. The poetry was not alien to the doctor, however. It touched her and moved her spirit. It called out to the logical part of her and she reveled in its precision and succinctity. It was Vulcan poetry, and it was very much a part of her. After the words had faded to silence she stood quietly meditating. She was able to repair minute cracks in her emotional defenses by doing this. She had always found it challenging trying to work with humans, but they had seemed particularly inane for the past few weeks. She desperately needed to go back to her homeworld, but recently it had looked like she was not going to get any time off. She decided to inform the CMO of the necessity of a vacation - today. "Computer, freeze program." Instantly the wind died and the sand that had been blowing in it hung suspended in midair. The sun halted its ascent through the sky, and the temperature began to drop. The doctor shook her pullover vigorously, causing sand to cascade to the ground around her. "Computer; save program, discontinue, and exit." The vast world disappeared from around her and was replaced by the sterile fifty-foot by thirty-foot grid of holodeck four. She exited the holodeck and proceeded to her quarters to finish preparing herself for the day. * * * * * Beverly Crusher moved down the hallway quietly; stealthily. Anyone seeing her would have noticed a slight change in the way she walked, but probably couldn't have put their finger on it. She was concentrating on the way she walked. She had been to her T'ai Chi class again last night and was really beginning to enjoy it. Lately, she had been trying to stay aware of her balance and inertia as she walked. The result was a quieter tread. Beverly neared sickbay and could see Dr. Selar standing in the outer ward. She was leaning against a table, rubbing her temples. As Dr. Crusher neared the door, Selar straightened and turned to greet her. She was looking a touch greener than usual today. Dr. Crusher's forehead wrinkled with concern. "Dr. Selar, are you all right?" "I am well, Doctor. However, I shall wish to speak with you privately at the end of my duty shift." Dr. Crusher picked up a medicorder from the table and flipped it open. The Vulcan seemed about to object, but Dr. Crusher was already scanning Selar. "You are not all right, Dr. Selar. Your Kiptotropin and Expotropin levels are at one-hundred and ten percent of their normal levels. Numerous other hormones are at slightly reduced levels. I think you should lie down and allow me to examine you further" She looked up at Selar. "That is not necessary, Doctor. This hormonal fluctuation does not interfere with my ability to perform my duties." Selar spoke in her typically flat tone. "Then perhaps we should have that talk now - in my office." She turned from the Vulcan doctor and walked into her office. Selar stood for a moment with an eyebrow raised, then followed Dr. Crusher. "Dr. Selar, What is the matter with you?" "As I have indicated, this is a normal hormonal condition. It does not impede my functioning at the present." "At the present?" "Yes, Doctor. However, I must return to Vulcan soon." "Return to Vulcan, Why?" "For - medical reasons." "Medical reasons! Selar I'm tiring of this. As one of my staff you have an obligation to tell me what is the matter with you and why must you return to Vulcan." Crusher was scowling now. "I must return to my homeworld for physical reasons." Dr. Selar's cool demeanor made it all the more obvious that Dr. Crusher was about to blow her stack. Suddenly, realization dawned on the Chief Medical Officer. "Selar! You've been here about seven years, haven't you?" "More accurately, six years, eleven months." * * * * * Two figures stood on the edge of the cliff, the wind buffeting them from behind. Their voluminous cloaks were wrapped around them and their hoods were pulled over their heads. The two stood there watching the red sun reflect off the coppery sand as it was blown off the top of the cliff. The two were father and son. The father was nearing his second century, yet was still a strong and vital man. The son was in his fourth decade and yet did not seem nearly so strong as his venerable father. The younger one shivered even though the temperature was above one hundred degrees. He dropped to one knee until the trembling stopped. When his composure returned, he slowly stood and walked stiffly with his father away from the precipice toward the city. "Son," said the father as they struggled against the wind, "perhaps you should contact her vessel and verify her return." "She will return. This affects her as it does me." The son's voice was strained, as was his control. "It does affect her, Styhk, but something clearly prevents her timely return. "If she does not return, father, she will die. If that occurs, I will die also." Styhk was struggling up a slope and his father took him by the elbow to help him. "In either case, I will wait." "You are not thinking clearly. If she were able to return, would she not already be here - prior to the time? You must let us find another." Styhk pulled away from his father and struggled up the hill. His father followed Styhk, and when the father got to the top of the hill, the son was shouting above the gusting wind. "You will not find another. You will not contact Enterprise. I will wait until she returns or until we both die." There was an awkward pause when he realized that his response to his father's logical suggestion was emotionally motivated. He turned and hastened toward the city, followed by his father. * * * * * Captain's Log, Stardate 49201.0. The Enterprise has just received new orders from Starfleet command. The USS Dauntless, a neutral zone patrol ship, was damaged in a battle with the Romulan warship Retribution. For some unknown reason, Retribution broke off her attack and returned to Romulan space - without destroying the outmatched Dauntless. The Dauntless is limping back to Starbase 473 for repairs and the Enterprise is the closest ship available to beat the border until the Dauntless can return to her patrol. Picard signaled the computer to end the log entry. He sat in his ready room staring out the window at the colorful warp effect. The Captain wondered what type of difficulties the Enterprise would encounter this time. It seemed like this ship had never been close to the neutral zone without meeting some type of Romulan resistance. He called out for the computer to prepare a cup of hot, Earl Grey tea, and stood up to retrieve it. Just then the door chirped, indicating a visitor. "Come," Picard commanded, reaching up to pull his jacket down in the front. It was still a habit, even though the newer olive and crimson jackets did not creep up in the front like the older ones. The door opened up and Beverly Crusher stepped in. Picard could tell immediately that she wanted a favor. "Good morning, Doctor. May I get you a cup of tea?" She nodded and he told the food slot to prepare another. He fetched the first cup and gave it to the doctor as she sat down on Picard's couch. He returned to the wall to get his cup. "Now, what can I do for you." "Well, we have an interesting situation in sickbay. Dr. Selar must return to Vulcan soon. She has asked me for leave and I've granted it." "Return to Vulcan - why, Doctor?" "For medical reasons." "Medical reasons? Could you elucidate?" "Dr. Selar must return to Vulcan for," the doctor paused looking for the words to describe the touchy situation. "Physical reasons." "Dr. Crusher, you are beating around the bush." Picard took a sip of his tea and sat down on the couch a discreet distance from her. Her shoulders slumped when she realized that he would not take her request at face value and he would not let it drop. "You see, there is a physiological cycle that occurs in Vulcans approximately every seven years. It is called Pon Far and..." Picard held up a hand to stop her, realizing where she was leading. He knew about Pon Far from his mind meld with Sarek of Vulcan, but he had not realized that the mating urge was as strong in Vulcan females as it was in the males. For Vulcan males, the urge was so powerful that it could cause insanity and death if ignored. "How long does she have before she cannot function normally, Doctor?" "She expects to be in fervor within the next two weeks, but she is already showing symptoms. As it progresses there will be pain and progressively reduced mental capacity. We must go to Vulcan to allow Selar to take care of this." The Captain leaned back on the couch and pondered the situation for a moment. "I'm afraid the situation is not as simple as that. We will be arriving at the Neutral Zone in three days, and we cannot afford to take the time to divert to Vulcan." "Captain, Dr. Selar could die if we do not make this diversion." Picard considered this for another moment and then touched his communicator. "Mr. Data, report to my ready room." Data acknowledged and Dr. Crusher turned to Picard. "Jean-Luc, this is a very private thing for Vulcans. I would suggest you tell as few people as possible." He nodded just as Data stepped into the room. "Mr. Data. After we arrive at the Neutral Zone, how long do you expect it will take the Dauntless to relieve us." "The estimated repair time for the Dauntless is three weeks, Captain." Dr. Crusher looked from Data to the Captain. "She cannot wait that long." This got a look of curiosity from Data. Picard nodded and took a sip of tea. "Data, if we launch a shuttlecraft, how long will it take it to reach Vulcan?" Data calculated for a fraction of a second and replied. "Captain, I assume you would wish to minimize time-in-flight for this shuttle. We will reach a point in our path closest to Vulcan in two days, three hours. If we launch from that point, it will take eight hours at maximum velocity for the shuttle to reach Vulcan. "Doctor, is a two and a half day delay acceptable?" "It should be, Captain." The corners of her mouth twitched upwards. "Good. Data, schedule a shuttlecraft to depart at that time." * * * * * Poet Styhk of Vulcan lay on the ground staring up into the night sky. A human poet would have seen the stars and noted their innate beauty. A human would see representations of goals and dreams in the stars, but Styhk saw the stars through different eyes. Styhk perceived the order and the constancy that they represented. Tonight he needed for the stars to preach to him their message of order. He was in intense pain and was in danger of losing his emotional control. Coming at this point in his life, his father's words had stung him with their perfect logic. Most other races perceived the Vulcans as emotionless, but this is far from true. Long ago they chose logic as their path to truth; and over the centuries perfected emotional control as their path to logic. They believe it to be their strongest point; that trait which makes them somewhat superior to other races. As Styhk's control slipped, he lost sight of the unanimity of stars. He could only focus on one at a time. From which one, he wondered, was Enterprise bearing Selar to him? Would she even return for Pon Far? Or would they both die because of this insane cycle they were born to and were bound to? Perhaps she would find another and only he would die. "No," he mumbled, then louder, "No!" * * * * * None of the pricks of light that Styhk saw that night were the Enterprise returning Selar to Vulcan. The only things visible in the sky above him were the stars - but there was something else. Something lurked near the planet. It wasn't visible to naked eye or to powerful technology. Logically it shouldn't have been there, but it was. The Retribution hung in the magnetic disturbance of Vulcan's nearest planetary neighbor; invisible and motionless. As the ship soaked up information from Vulcan, most of her crew slept confident in their ability to remain undetected. Falkl'or lay in his cabin, but he wasn't asleep. He stared at the ceiling and listened to his consort sleeping beside him. He thought of the danger his ship and crew would be in if they were discovered. Not from the Federation or the Vulcans; he could surely escape from anything they sent after him. The Romulan Council was another matter. They would have his head if he failed. Especially since his predecessor had failed so miserably with the Vulcan Reunification. He would not sleep until his ship was safely inside the Romulan Empire carrying the information they had been sent to gather. His mind turned to the Vulcan people. They, with their faulty logic, simply did not understand the way of things. They actually thought they could suppress their emotions. They couldn't even fool other races into believing in their perfect emotional control, but they believed it themselves. "Why bother," he mumbled. The fiery passion of the Romulan people was what made them strong. It was why these lesser cousins of the Romulans would eventually fall. Falkl'or knew that the Romulans didn't have a particular use for Vulcan, yet they believed in 'reunification' fiercely. It wasn't reunification they wanted. It was revenge. Revenge for having their superior ideology scorned by the Vulcans; revenge for being forced off the Vulcan homeworld so long ago. Falkl'or decided that his ship was aptly named. He looked over at his sleeping partner lying naked, her back to him. If he couldn't sleep, at least he could amuse himself. He shook her until she rolled over and submitted to him. * * * * * "Dr. Selar, I think someone ought to go with you." Bev Crusher was standing just inside the door of Selar's quarters. She had never been in the Vulcan's room, but she held her curiosity for another time. "I've seen the way you've been acting all day today, and I'm not convinced you can make the flight by yourself." Dr. Selar stood beside her sleeping mat packing the few items she planned to take with her. She looked at Crusher with a look that an uninformed person could have mistaken for aggravation. "I do not require any assistance, Doctor Crusher. The shuttle will be piloted by computer - so my functioning is not of concern." "Still, you will very likely need medical assistance. I have watched you getting worse for the past two days. If you don't select a travelling companion then I will select one for you." Beverly had proven many times that she could be just as stubborn as any Vulcan. She pulled a datapad out of the pocket of her jacket and began scrolling through names. "Doctor Crusher, I do not require a companion." Selar seemed obstinate, but when this didn't impress the CMO, she continued. "Allow me to restate it differently, Doctor; I do not _want_ you to select a travelling companion for me." This caught Dr. Crusher's attention. Dr. Crusher realized that Selar was having a hard time controlling her emotions. She put a gentle tone in her voice - but was still firm. "Selar, that statement makes me even more determined to assign you a companion. When a Vulcan admits having desires, you know that she is in bad shape. You are leaving in an hour, with a companion" "Doctor, I don't want a companion - because I don't want any of the other medics to know about this. It is none of their concern and it is possible that it will adversely affect their ability to work with me when I return." Selar had begun this statement a bit shaky, but she seemed to pull herself together toward the end. "Fine," The fiery-haired doctor stated. "I already know, and this cannot affect our professional relationship, so I will go with you." * * * * * Falkl'or lay contemplating getting up and going to check on the progress of the data gathering. He had occupied himself with the Engineer, R'annec, for most of the night and didn't want to get up just yet. Just as he was about to pull himself from bed, the klaxon sounded. The sound startled the sleeping R'annec. She leapt from the bed into a fighting stance, one arm pressed against her breasts to hold them in place. Falkl'or got up almost as quickly and began pulling on his uniform. He had it on and was out the door by the time R'annec had realized what was going on enough to begin dressing. In the bridge, the main bridge officers were still gathering. When Falkl'or stepped off the lift, one of the crew began informing him of their situation. "Lord, Federation cruiser T'karin off our port side. She's making sensor sweeps. Looks like broad range radiation sweeps." "Damn, they're picking up radiation emissions from the cloaking shields. Have they located us yet?" "No, my lord. They made a pass and are coming about for another, but their course does not indicate that they have found us. It'll probably take them another couple of more passes. Shall this soldier ready the weapons systems?" "No, wait until they pass, then move us away from the T'karin. Plot a course along the pattern of this planet's magnetic field. As soon as you have the planet between them and us, take us out of here." The bridge crew plotted the course and waited in silence as the forward tactical display showed the relative positions of Retribution and T'karin. As the Federation ship glided silently over the Retribution, she slowly slipped into a magnetic line and moved away. A few moments later she was headed back toward the Romulan Empire. * * * * * Having slowed to impulse speed long enough to eject the shuttle, the Enterprise leapt back into warp to complete its journey to the neutral zone. The doctors watched from the shuttle as the huge starship seemed to lengthen - then burst out of existence in a spray of color. Dr. Selar pressed a button to activate the program that Data had written to pilot the shuttle to Vulcan. The shuttle oriented itself and leapt forward, the occupants settling in for a long, uneventful ride. The Vulcan leaned back in the pilot's chair and folded her hands in her lap. She closed her eyes and assumed a completely neutral demeanor. Dr. Crusher slid an isolinear chip into a slot just below the copilot's viewer and sat back while the viewer scrolled through the book she was reading. It was mind-numbing reading. A new medical thriller in documentary form called _Zeta_Strain_. It had been meticulously researched by the author and it had a great deal of real information about Starfleet Medical Headquarters. Some Starfleet agents had even allegedly debriefed the author to find out where all the semi-valid details in the book had come from. According to the rumors, she had looked most of it up in a library and postulated on the remainder. The result was a startlingly believable book. Beverly was not really into reading such fiction as this. She knew too much about Starfleet Medical Operations to buy into the story line - but so many of the interns and medics on the Enterprise had been raving about it that she had decided to pick up a copy of it. Within a few minutes of powering it up, she realized that she couldn't even remember the previous page. She was about to doze off when Selar opened her eyes and turned to her. "What are you reading, Doctor?" Selar had attempted to place herself into a meditative trance, but she was used to being alone when she meditated. Crusher's routine tapping on the page-advance key of the reader was agitating her. Fortunately she was able to use a neutral tone of voice for the query. Beverly's head snapped up. "Oh, this?" She glanced back at the screen trying to remind herself of what she was reading. "It's just a new piece of fiction. I'm really not that interested in it. Would you like to read it?" "That is quite all right, Doctor." Selar had quickly decided that if it was too uninteresting for a human, that it would certainly not be suitable for a Vulcan. She got up from the seat and moved to the rear compartment of the shuttle to attempt to sleep her way through the trip. Vulcans normally needed only a few hours sleep every few days, but the hormonal changes associated with Pon Far changed that. She had found that she tired quickly and had difficulty staying awake during the later part of her duty shifts. Yesterday she had even fallen asleep during a meal break. Dr. Crusher had to go find her when she did not show up after lunch, and she received an unwanted break for the remainder of the day. The Vulcan was soon asleep in the back of the shuttle and it didn't take long for the human to nod back to sleep in the front. * * * * * R'annec had her arms elbow-deep in the cloaking device control subsystem and was looking at a schematic lying on the floor. For the past few months the Federation had been getting progressively more proficient at spotting cloaked ships, and she wanted to know why. She felt like she was close. She was performing the modifications to the cloaking device by reflex, and thinking about more personal matters. She had planned for a long time to entice the Captain into a relationship and ride him to a position of power. She wondered if Falkl'or actually thought she was his pet, or if he was setting some elaborate trap for her; testing her loyalty. No, she decided. Males are too stupid to see through the schemes of a woman. She extracted her hands from the control cabinet and walked over to an engineering computer terminal. Tapping a few keys, she instructed the computer to run a broad range radiation scan on the cloaking shields. "So that's what they're seeing..." She moved back over to the schematic, glanced it over, and leaned back into the control cabinet. After a few more adjustments and scans she had the results she wanted. "See if the witless bastards can find us now!" She replaced the cabinet cover and started to the bridge triumphantly. On the bridge, Falkl'or sat in his command chair scanning through some of the information they had gathered from Vulcan. They had what they had come for, so now all he had to do was get his crew back home. The Council would be pleased. He glanced over and saw that R'annec had entered the bridge and was moving over to his chair. "Lord, this engineer has located what she considers to be the reason that the Federation ships were able to detect cloaked Romulan ships. The fault has been fixed through a minor adjustment of the field generators." She used the formal address for her captain only because there were subordinates within earshot. He started to acknowledge the good work, but the sensor operator called out to him. "Lord, this soldier is detecting a small craft directly in our path. Federation shuttlecraft. Its course indicates it is coming from the general vicinity of the Empire, and proceeding to Vulcan." "Long range shuttlecraft, soldier?" "No, my lord. Standard short range shuttle. Couldn't have even made it from Federation Starbase 473. It must have come from a ship, but long range sensors indicate no vessels in the area." "Soldier, what ship does the Federation shuttlecraft's transponder show it came from?" "My lord. NCC-1701-D. Enterprise." Falkl'or's right eyebrow shot upward in curiosity. * * * * * Dr. Crusher awoke when Selar started mumbling. She turned in her seat and saw that Selar was calling out in her sleep. The words were incoherent. Dr. Crusher stood to stretch her legs and saw that Selar was shivering and sweating. She started to move over to wake her, but as she got close Selar's eyes flipped open. She was startled to see that Selar's eyes were white until she remembered the Vulcan's nictitating membranes. Odd, she thought, it isn't that bright in here. She pulled out her medicorder as Selar sat up on the bench. Selar tried to complain that she needed no assistance, but realized it would be futile to try to convince Dr. Crusher of the fact. She pulled a blanket from a compartment under the bench and wrapped it around herself. Dr. Crusher finished with the scan. "Hormonal disparity is worse and brain waves slightly off norm." She pulled a hypo from her kit and put a cartridge in it. Selar tilted her head to expose the side of her neck and Dr. Crusher pressed the device against the artery. It hissed and she placed it back in the kit. "That ought to hold you till we get you home." Dr. Crusher used her medicorder to monitor the onset of the medication. "Thank you, Doctor. My condition is improving as we speak." She folded the blanket precisely and placed it back in the locker. Her shivering was calming and her nictitating membranes were sliding back. Just then the shuttle's proximity sensors went off. Both stood and turned in time to see the gigantic Romulan warship materialize directly in their path. Newsgroups: alt.startrek.creative Path: moe.ksu.ksu.edu!zaphod.mps.ohio-state.edu!mips!darwin.sura.net!nntp.msstate.edu!Ra.MsState.Edu!plp1 From: plp1@Ra.MsState.Edu (pat parker) Subject: CORRECTED REPOST; _T'Selar_ part2 Message-ID: Sender: news@ra.msstate.edu Nntp-Posting-Host: ra.msstate.edu Organization: Mississippi State University Date: Sun, 12 Jul 1992 02:31:46 GMT Lines: 424 Star Trek The Next Generation _T'Selar_ _Part_II_ By Patrick Parker, June 1992 * * * * * The doctors collapsed into the pilots' seats. They tried the controls in a futile attempt to get away. The warship had already locked tractor beams onto the tiny shuttle. They tried to call for help - no luck; they were surrounded by a subspace jamming field. They leaned back in the chairs and watched in shocked silence as they were dragged into the gaping maw of the Romulan shuttle bay. When they landed they were immediately surrounded by a group of armed Romulan troops. They sat and waited - they were certainly not going to depart the shuttle until forced to. Soon a Romulan came and tried to open the door. When that failed, he placed a resonator against the hull of the shuttle and began talking into it. The device made the entire hull of the shuttle act as a resonating board for his voice. The doctors heard his echoing voice clearly and understood his meaning well. "Shuttle occupants. Open this hatch or it will be blown open. Do not bring weapons with you or you will be killed." The two doctors looked at each other resignedly. They stood, opened the hatch, and stepped down into a circle of a dozen phasers. Two Romulans stepped up to them. One of them had a scanner and began searching the captives. The other Romulan removed their communicators and the items from their pockets. The first Romulan was talking aloud as he scanned Dr. Crusher, then Selar. "Human female. No medical disorders. No weapons. No devices. Vulcan female, unidentified, non-contagious medical disorder. No weapons. No devices." The Romulan stepped back and watched as the doctors were led away. They were led down a corridor and pushed into a detention cell. Dr. Crusher leaned against the wall and slid to the floor. Selar remained standing and watched as the guards exited the cell and engaged the detaining field. They did not have to wait long. Soon a Romulan male appeared on the other side of the crackling detention field. From his demeanor and dress, the doctors guessed that he was in a position of command in the vessel. He spoke in a calm, clipped fashion. "Names and ranks." Selar stepped forward and spoke. She was cool and collected. "You are in violation of the Neutral Zone Treaty. Taking prisoners will not result in a favorable situation between the Federation and the Romulan Empire." "Names and ranks, " the Romulan repeated. He was just as controlled as the Vulcan. "You will not be able to garner a position of power through the use of hostages." "Names and ranks, Velakht!" The Romulan's voice rose a note this time. Dr. Selar raised an eyebrow and regarded the Romulan for a moment. "Selar, doctor aboard the Federation vessel Enterprise." "Crusher, doctor aboard the Enterprise." "What are two doctors doing in a shuttle this far out in space?" Dr. Crusher started to open her mouth to speak, but Selar interrupted her subtly. "We are on a mission to Vulcan to render medical aid. There has been an explosion on Science Station T'Maltic." She spoke with typical Vulcan composure and surety. Dr. Crusher was amazed. She clamped her mouth shut and listened to Selar's lie. "Are there no doctors on Vulcan?" "Every hand is needed." "Your shuttle was carrying very few medical supplies." "Supplies are not a factor. Medical skills are." "Our physician informs me that you are impaired. Why do you go to render aid when you need aid yourself?" "This is a rather typical aberration. It does not affect my ability to perform my duties." She had practiced that line on Dr. Crusher often in the last few days and had it down. "I see - a genetic defect; it is to be expected." He paused considering her story. "An explosion, eh?" He turned and left the room without another word. The doctors were left alone in their cell. * * * * * Styhk was standing at the top of the slope leading down to the cliff. He had always found that walking along the cliff calmed and inspired him. It was as if the cliffs themselves called out to him. That was why the poetry he periodically transmitted to Selar was accompanied by customized holodeck programs. He thought it proper that the poetry come to her the same way it came to him. He leaned against a boulder at the top of the slope, out of breath. Normally he had no difficulties in the thin atmosphere of Vulcan, but the illness was rapidly getting worse. He couldn't safely delay Pon Far much longer. But he was determined to wait. "Never again," he said to himself. He didn't want to ever allow Selar to leave again. He wouldn't let her leave. She would bond with him and they would be together from that point forward. All she had to do was get here. "Get here!" He laid his head on the boulder. Why wasn't she here yet? She probably wouldn't get here and he would die. He looked up. She has to come. They had been promised to each other since birth and Selar wasn't one to go against tradition. She would get here soon. Soon... "Soon!" He began making his way down the slope to the cliffs. He was so tired his feet were dragging, but he had to walk along the cliffs. That would soothe his emotions for a while, if he could just get there. His vision blurred and he tripped over a rock. Get there, he thought, as he tumbled down the slope. * * * * * "You lied." Beverly and Selar were sitting in the back of the detention cell whispering to each other. The red-haired doctor was surprised at Selar's having lied about the reason behind their journey. "Granted, it is certainly a very private thing, but I've never heard you tell a lie before." "I have never told a lie before now, Doctor." Selar spoke to Crusher in a low voice while watching the door. Dr. Crusher looked around at her surroundings. "Well, if there has ever been a good time to lie, this is it. What do you suppose they are going to do with us?" The Vulcan raised both eyebrows at this, and turned to the other doctor. "I seriously doubt that they could use us to place themselves at a political advantage with the Federation. However, if the Romulans were to discover that I am experiencing Pon Far, they would almost certainly attempt to rape me. Indeed, I might not be safe from that even if they do not discover the nature of my condition. You would not be safe from that fate either. I am sure you recall the circumstances surrounding Tasha Yar's second death." Beverly looked disgusted with the idea of being made to bear Romulan offspring like Tasha was. She shook her head. "I have never understood why anyone would want to do that to another being." "The Romulans are intense creatures - they do not do anything without doing it fervently. They enjoy tormenting other beings; particularly Vulcans and Humans." The Vulcan thought for a moment, then continued. "Tasha was not the only one. There have been multiple cases of Vulcan-Romulan and Human-Romulan offspring as products of rape." Selar considered this line of thought. "If the situation deteriorates to that point, I shall die rather than submit." "But what about your partner back on Vulcan? If you die, then he will too." "Doctor, if we do not arrive at Vulcan soon he will die anyway - and I will not outlive him by long." * * * * * Falkl'or sat in his command seat, tapping a fingernail on the armrest. He had been contemplating the Vulcan's lie. They could make the prisoners talk. Getting information from the human would be simple, but squeezing the knowledge from the Vulcan would be truly pleasurable. "Soldier, send an encoded tight-beam message back to the Council. Include the data we collected from the Vulcan homeworld and tell them we have a pair of guests that they will find amusing." He stood up and strode from the bridge. When he reached the detention cells, he stood quietly outside the field until the prisoners noticed him. He knew that his calmly watching them would unnerve them - particularly the human - and make them more susceptible to interrogation techniques once they reached Romulus. Selar lay asleep on a bench in the cell. Dr. Crusher sat on the floor beside the bench watching the Romulan watching them. She managed to hold her nerves together for a few moments, but then submitted. "What do you want with us?" This woke Selar and she sat up. She seemed a bit disoriented for a moment. The Romulan captain stood at the door for another moment. He sniffed the air and spoke to the human. "An explosion on a science station, eh? We can do with your feeble minds as we please. It might prove amusing to reprogram you and send you back to the Enterprise. Does that prospect please you or would you rather tell the truth?" "What makes you think that you would succeed this time. You failed the last time you tried that?" Dr. Crusher was recalling when the Romulans had captured Geordi LaForge and tried to use him as an assassin. "Oh that is just a small example of what we could do. You could be made to perform any number of interesting feats." He pursed his lips in a thin smile. "You won't have time to do anything like that to us. The Enterprise is already on it's way to retrieve us. How do you feel about putting yourself at odds with Captain Jean-Luc Picard? I'd be worried if I were you." The Romulan sniffed again; what was that strange odor? "You are no more proficient at lying than the Vulcan. It is you that should be worried - both of you. Not only will we find out what you are hiding from us, but afterward..." He allowed the implication to stand for a moment. "Or perhaps before..." He reached out for the controls for the detention field. Selar stood up from the bench and Beverly clenched her fists. The Romulan just smiled. "No, I think I'll let you rest so you will be fresh for the interrogators, but when we're back on Romulus - then we'll see." He knew he had won the mental battle for now and he walked away to let them contemplate the possibilities. When he left he was still trying to figure out what that faint smell was. * * * * * R'annec was checking the newly improved cloaking field when Falkl'or strode into the engineering section of the Retribution. He walked right up to her and took her by the arm. "Come with me." R'annec glanced around at her subordinates, all busy at their stations, then turned back to the Captain. "What is the problem? Where are we going?" His voice was low and husky. "To my quarters." "But it is my duty shift. I cannot leave here." R'annec was annoyed and could tell she was going to have trouble keeping her temper in check this time. Falkl'or looked over at one of the engineering officers. "You have engineering until Engineer R'annec returns." With this he grabbed R'annec's elbow and pulled her out of engineering after him. Within the minute they were in his quarters and he was stripping her clothes off her. Damn, thought R'annec. I wonder what's got him like this. He is definitely losing control. She resisted for a moment and Falkl'or drew back his hand and slapped her. Crap, I'd better let him have it. She quickly finished undressing and pulled him onto his bed on top of her. As the Captain amused himself, R'annec lay there trying to figure out how Falkl'or had changed so much. She had chosen him carefully because of his ability to do what was necessary to increase his personal power - and hers. He had seemed to change since receiving this information gathering mission, especially since he picked up the prisoners. Damned if she knew why he even bothered with them. The shipboard rumors said they were insignificant medics. She realized, though, that she had really grown fond of him. That was an added advantage. She figured that he hadn't really changed lately - that she had been stressed out and was blaming him. I could really be enjoying this, she thought. She clutched him and began responding to his passion. Falkl'or finished and rolled off to the side, sitting up on the edge of the bed. "Bitch, you're miserable today. I should've just taken the Vulcan." He quickly got dressed and left the room, leaving R'annec unsatisfied and alone. * * * * * The Enterprise glided along the invisible line separating the Federation from the neutral zone. At this point there was only a light year separating them from the Romulan Empire. If an incursion into Federation space were to happen, it would only take an instant for the invaders to leap across the distance separating the two realms. Despite the ever-present possibility of attack, the Enterprise's watch had been eventless. They had patrolled the border for almost a day and there was no sign of the Romulans. The crew did not relax, though. They patrolled in a wide elliptical path with sensors on full sensitivity. They would know if any Romulans came within a million kilometers of them. On the bridge, Riker sat slumped in the command chair watching the main viewer. He would rather be with Deanna. He was quite pleased with the improvement in their relationship after his recent encounter with Lwaxana Troi. Because of their discussion, he had been able to open up to Deanna more than ever before; and she was responding favorably. He was so thoroughly engrossed in his daydream that he was startled when Worf announced an incoming long range communication. He turned to Worf and nodded to try to hide that the Klingon had surprised him. "Who is it from?" "It is Staoq of Vulcan," Worf responded. "On screen." He turned to look into the face of an ancient Vulcan man. Riker knew the Vulcans were not trivial people, and this one would not have called unless he had important news. He decided to give the Vulcan a terse greeting and get right to business. "Staoq of Vulcan, I am Commander Riker of the Enterprise. What can we do for you." The Vulcan seemed to appreciate the lack of petty decorum, and also went directly to the point. "You have a Vulcan doctor, Selar, on your ship. Her presence is required on Vulcan." Riker wrinkled his brow and motioned for Worf to call the captain to the bridge. "Doctors Crusher and Selar should be on Vulcan already. Their shuttle departed the Enterprise fifteen hours ago." The Vulcan tilted his head to the side slightly and considered this for a moment. "What was Dr. Selar's estimated time of arrival?" "Data?" Riker referred the question to the android. Data looked up at the screen and replied. "The doctors' shuttle should have arrived on Vulcan six hours, fifty- three minutes ago." At that moment the turbolift whooshed open and Picard stepped out of it. He strode down the access ramp to the command section of the bridge. Riker relinquished control of the situation. "Captain," said Riker. "Doctors Crusher and Selar have not made it to Vulcan yet. They are seven hours late." The captain frowned and looked up at the screen. "Our scans at the time of departure indicated that they engaged the navigational program correctly and were well on their way." "Nevertheless, captain," the elderly Vulcan stated. "They have not arrived here and due to their continued absence we now have a medical emergency here. You must locate Selar and bring them here immediately." This sentence was related passionlessly, but it had a marked effect on Picard. "And am I correct in assuming that Doctor Selar's life will be endangered if she is not found soon?" "Yes." The Vulcan seemed surprised that Picard knew enough to deduce this. Picard stood up and paced once around the command area, stroking the back of his head in concentration. He returned to the viewer. "Sir, we will not be able to leave the neutral zone border until the Dauntless takes our place here in three weeks. I would suggest that the Vulcans send out a set of ships to locate the doctors." The Vulcan agreed to have a set of search ships sent out after the shuttle and started to turn away from the screen. He turned back for a moment and stated flatly. "It is ... unfortunate, that Selar is not here in time." With this, he ended the communication. * * * * * Back on Vulcan, the venerable Staoq turned slowly away from the blank communication set. He now had only one logical choice since Selar would most likely not be found in time. He would send for a proxy to relieve Styhk. He turned to his wife and nodded. She left the room, a substitute in mind. While he waited, he stood beside his son. Styhk was lying on his sleeping mat. They had placed him there when they found him collapsed by the cliffs. He was curled up into a fetal ball, sweating and convulsing. His mind was in complete chaos and he mumbled incoherent phrases. Every so often his babbling was punctuated with a repeated word; "Selar." The door opened and Pentu stepped inside. She was still young, barely forty years old, but was experienced in these matters. She had served as a surrogate Pon Far partner several times in situations similar to this. Her standing in the community was similar to that of a doctor, or a midwife. She stood to one side and allowed Staoq to leave the room. She moved over to Styhk's side and touched him on the arm. He looked up through glazed-over eyes. "Selar?" His convulsing calmed slightly. "Selar is not here. I am Pentu. Allow me to help." He did not comprehend what she said. He reached up and took her hand, pulling her close. "Selar!" She allowed her robe to fall to the ground around her ankles and sat down on the mat beside him. She placed his fingertips on her temple and her fingers on his face. She began the meld and dove into his mind. He cupped a breast in his palm. Her free hand moved downward from his chest to his groin. He removed his hand from her breast. She nudged his groin again. He threw her from the mat and scurried backward into a corner of the room. "Styhk, if you do not do this, you will die." She moved slowly toward him. "Then I will die! Leave me in peace." He picked up a chair and waved it menacingly. "Styhk..." She moved closer. In the outer room, Staoq and his wife waited patiently for Pentu and Styhk to finish. They were quite surprised to see Pentu fleeing naked from the room followed by an airborne stool. She ducked out of the way and the stool shattered against the opposite wall. Pentu turned toward the elderly couple and shrugged. * * * * * Doctor Crusher sat against the wall of the detention cell watching Selar. The Vulcan had pulled the sleeves of her uniform up to the elbows, but was still sweating. As Beverly sat here helplessly watching the Selar, she smelled a faint smell. It reminded her vaguely of cinnamon and oranges. "Selar, do you smell that odor? What is that?" The Vulcan doctor slowly sat up and blew a breath out through her nose, clearing it. She sniffed the air, then turned her head and sniffed her wrist. "I am the source of the odor, Doctor." She rolled her sleeves back down. "You, Selar? When did you start wearing cinnamon perfume?" "I do not wear perfume, doctor. That scent is a pheromone that is associated with my condition." "Uh Oh..." Beverly's eyes got bigger. "What?" Crusher lowered her voice and moved over toward the Vulcan. Within a couple of feet, the cinnamon-orange smell was intense. "How close is the Romulan's reproductive physiology to the Vulcan's?" Selar looked up, disgusted. "Quite dissimilar, doctor." "But you said that Vulcans and Romulans have produced offspring before; the reproductive systems cannot differ that much." "They differ," the Vulcan was offended now. "Significantly. What is the point in your insulting me and discussing such noxious topics?" "The point is," Crusher leaned closer and whispered to Selar. "Whether or not your pheromones will elicit a response in Romulan males." Doctor Crusher had to jump back to avoid being knocked over as Selar jumped up. She fell back anyway and knocked a chair over. Selar leaned over the doctor. "The Romulans are sufficiently degenerate that they will certainly not be affected by my...condition." She stood up and turned her back on Dr. Crusher. Beverly was not sure about Selar's dismissal of the effects, and she sat there amazed at Selar's response. She had never seen the Vulcan doctor take offense or show emotion toward anything before, and this outpouring of emotion was like a hurricane breaking a building apart. The doctor stood up and carefully righted the chair. "I'm sorry, Selar. I didn't intend to insult you. I was just concerned - that's all." "Doctor Crusher. If you must speak to me, kindly change the subject." "OK, sorry Selar." Crusher was silent for a couple of minutes during which Selar didn't move. The Vulcan just stood there and stared away from Beverly. Selar broke the silence. "They are certainly making that dreadful noise with the sole intention of upsetting me." She placed her hands over her ears for a moment, then shook her head and dropped her hands back to her sides. Beverly Crusher listened carefully, but heard nothing. "What noise," she finally asked, timidly. "The detention field to this cell. It is making a noise that is grating on my very soul. Of course you can't hear it - you're human." Crusher started to reply to this, but decided to let it drop. There were a couple more minutes of silence, this time broken by Beverly. "What is his name?" "Whose?" "Your," Crusher searched for an appropriate word. "Partner...your mate." Selar spun around for a moment and Beverly thought she had accidentally insulted the Vulcan again. "Styhk. His name is Styhk." Her expression and voice softened at the thought. "He is a poet and I feel very strongly for him." Beverly smiled. Selar appeared to be calming down; the memories making her feel better. "I can tell that you love him. Tell me more." At this the Vulcan's face clouded again and her eyebrows grew together. She looked like she would explode again, but calmed down again a moment later. "We are both forty-two years old; we have experienced Pon Far together five times." She sat down on the bunk beside the human. Beverly smiled and nodded again. "But this time is going to be different. Special. This time we are going to bond and he will be moving to the Enterprise to be with me." Beverly jumped up, excited for Selar. "You're getting married!" Selar nodded, smiling. Selar found that she enjoyed smiling. She had never done it before. She wouldn't be doing it now, but for the raging hormone imbalance in her system. She sat and held hands with Beverly, thoroughly enjoying the first girl-talk session of her life. Both women shouted as something slammed into the wall behind them. They jumped up and turned around to see two Romulan guards standing in the door to the cell. One of them had smashed a datapad against the outside wall of the cell and was reaching for the controls to the detention field. He had a lecherous grin on his face. The blood drained from the doctors' faces. Beverly stepped back a step as the two guards entered the cell and started toward the women. One of the guards grabbed at Beverly, but missed when she instinctively stepped aside. He turned and lunged at her again. This time she couldn't sidestep, but her T'ai Chi training took over and with a subtle twist of the Romulan's arm she sent him tumbling through the air. He crashed headfirst into the wall. Wow, Beverly thought. Did I do that? I can't believe the T'ai Chi actually worked. I never really figured I'd really use it for defence. She turned around just in time to see the other Romulan's fist. There was a flash of red hot pain as he smashed her face, then everything went black. Selar tried to back away from him as he stalked toward her, his nostrils flaring with each breath. She tried to remember some of the mandatory Starfleet self defence lessons, but her knees buckled with fear. She fell back and scrambled into the corner. The guard paused standing over her. He took a deep breath of the cinnamon-orange musk and unbuckled his belt. Selar whimpered as he kneeled and forced her legs apart. She could smell his breath as he leaned over her. He reeked. Newsgroups: alt.startrek.creative Path: moe.ksu.ksu.edu!zaphod.mps.ohio-state.edu!mips!darwin.sura.net!nntp.msstate.edu!Ra.MsState.Edu!plp1 From: plp1@Ra.MsState.Edu (pat parker) Subject: CORRECTED REPOST; _T'Selar_ part3 Message-ID: Sender: news@ra.msstate.edu Nntp-Posting-Host: ra.msstate.edu Organization: Mississippi State University Date: Sun, 12 Jul 1992 02:32:37 GMT Lines: 443 Star Trek The Next Generation _T'Selar_ _Part_III_ By Patrick Parker, June 1992 * * * * * Selar tried to scream, but she couldn't. She was too scared and sickened at the thought of being raped. She tried to sit up as the Romulan hunched over her and unfastened her pants. She tried to push him away, but he punched her and she fell back. She lay crying as he ripped the front of her pants apart and grabbed her groin. She smelled brassy sweat. She smelled foul breath. She smelled burning flesh. Burning flesh? The guard dropped his weight forward onto Selar and she screamed, finally able to make her vocal cords work. She thrashed about trying to get him off of her, trying to get his hand off of her groin, trying to get her pants pulled together. She finally realized that he wasn't moving. She threw him off of her. He rolled to lie face down beside her, and she saw a smoking hole the size of her head in his back. She looked up, saw the Romulan Captain - phaser in hand, and fainted. During this struggle, Beverly Crusher had been slowly regaining consciousness. There were voices far away; screaming, but in the darkness she couldn't see who was screaming. She felt compelled to find the source of the screams, to get to the voices, but she seemed to move so slowly. There was light now, and it hurt her eyes even through her swollen lids. She realized her whole face hurt. The names of her broken facial bones automatically came to her trained, medical mind; Nasal...Maxilla...Zygomatic... She pulled herself up to an elbow and leaned against the wall trying to bear the pain. She couldn't breathe through her nose and she didn't want to open her eyes. Had the Enterprise been attacked? She didn't remember how she had been injured. The screaming had stopped now and it was quiet. What the hell was going on here? I'm not on Enterprise. Where am I? Suddenly she remembered. She squeezed her puffy eyes open and lurched toward Selar. The Vulcan wasn't moving. Neither was the Romulan. Falkl'or watched from the door to the cell as the human crawled toward the Vulcan. Damn, he thought. Such lack of discipline. He raised his phaser and blasted a hole in the chest of the Romulan that Beverly had knocked out. He then turned and reactivated the detention field. He walked away leaving the injured doctors alone with the smoldering bodies. * * * * * The engineer lay in her quarters wearing only an over-sized shirt. She had been working in engineering for hours and now she was enjoying the quiet solitude of her quarters. She was thinking about Falkl'or's not being pleased with her performance earlier that day and she wanted to make up for it somehow - but not right now. She just wanted to rest by herself for a moment while she figured out how to please her Lord. R'annec did not get to rest long though. The door opened and Falkl'or walked in and paused by the bed. He blew out an exasperated breath. The smell of charred meat still clung to his clothes. R'annec wrinkled her nose at the smell. "Two guards were assaulting the prisoners," he explained. "I had to kill them." R'annec sat up and tried to calm him down a bit. "I'm sorry I didn't please you this morning, my Lord. I was inconsiderate of your desires." R'annec smiled and reached out for his hand. "Let me make it up to you; come lie with me." She had ideas of a mutually pleasurable night with her lover. He had other ideas. He jerked her shirt off and pushed her down onto the bed. She frowned slightly as he shed his clothes and leapt on top of her. She tried to adjust herself to make it enjoyable for both of them, but he was in a frenzy and was hurting her. With each thrust he mumbled some incomprehensible obscenity. Finally his rage, if not his passion, was exhausted and he rolled away. Seeing that he was not satisfied, she climbed on top and tried to continue. He just knocked her off with a knee and sat up. "I don't know what they saw in the ugly Vulcan bitch, anyway." He had raped her. The bastard had used her to vent his frustrations against the Vulcan prisoner. R'annec had no idea how the Vulcan was able to change her man into such a monster. She'd see, though. She have to go see just what it was about the Vulcan prisoner that drove Falkl'or into such a frenzy. * * * * * "Mr. Worf, raise the T'karin on subspace." Picard was tired of running his starship up and down the neutral zone while his two highest ranked medical officers were missing. He still couldn't leave the zone because there were no ships close enough to take over the patrol, and the waiting was unbearable. He at least wanted to know how the search was going. Counselor Troi looked over at him from her chair. She could tell what was troubling him, and gave him a brief smile to reassure him. He looked back to the main viewer and smoothed out the front of his green sweater. He had just finished tugging the crimson jacket into place when the klingon announced that the commander of the T'karin was on screen. "This is Captain Picard of the Enterprise. Commander Slway, how is the search going?" The Vulcan on the viewer had the appearance of a typical Vulcan Defence Forces Commander. There was an immovable composure etched into his thin face. His short, black hair framed his head in a model of control. "We have not located the missing doctors yet. Our squadron has swept the path that the shuttlecraft should have taken from its point-of-departure to Vulcan. We are now searching two star systems that lie near the shuttle's supposed trajectory." "You have not located any energy residue or debris that could be associated with the shuttlecraft, have you?" "No, Captain Picard. However, before we left Vulcan we were investigating a set of curious energy readings from near one of the Vulcan moons. The readings indicated neutrino and graviton emissions, but we located no source." Data turned to the Picard from his position at the Operations station. "Captain, low-level neutrino and graviton emissions could indicate the presence of a cloaked Romulan warship." He turned back to his station. The Vulcan on the screen glanced at the android, then back at Picard. "Yes, we were unable to pinpoint the source of the emissions before they ceased. I would advise you to be alert for the presence of cloaked Warbirds in Federation space. We will transmit to you the sensor readings that we obtained from the moon. You may find them useful in locating any cloaked ships." The android bent over his station and began interpreting the incoming sensor data as the communication screen blanked. * * * * * There was pain and madness. Swirling lights resolved into vague shapes and strange sounds came through the flickering illumination. A gust of frigid air would hit her, followed by a blast from hell. She was wracked with convulsions. Beverly watched as the Vulcan slowly regained consciousness. Dr. Crusher was rarely unable to help a hurting patient and this was more than she could stand. Soon, she would be forced to watch as Selar died from mating season sickness. What a senseless death, she thought. Selar came awake suddenly and pulled herself up, groping for her torn pants; trying to pull them up. The pants were ruined and did nothing to serve her modesty, so Beverly had taken her own oversized blue jacket and tied it around the Vulcan's waist as an improvised skirt. The cool air blowing under the jacket and onto her exposed pelvis was provoking her condition. She pulled the jacket closer around her waist and tucked it between her legs to cut down on the cold air. "Why did you kill them?" Selar asked Bev. "I didn't kill them. The Romulan Captain killed them. They were trying to rape us." "You shouldn't have killed them, Beverly. They could've had me and I'd have a beautiful baby and everyone would live and it would have been fine." The Vulcan lifted an eyebrow and glared at Beverly. "Now I'm going to die too. You've killed them and me, Beverly. And my baby that I could have had - you killed the baby too. Why did you want to kill us, Beverly? You are most illogical." Selar's clinched fist was shaking. Dr. Crusher backed away a step, afraid. "Selar, calm down - you aren't thinking straight right now. I didn't kill the Romulans, and besides, you were fighting them yourself. Do you remember?" "Of course I was fighting them. The bastards were trying to rape me. If I could, I'd kill every one of the damned Romulans. I'd strangle every one of their little vermin offspring. That would get them back for all they've done to me and my baby. That would get them back for all they've done to my people." Before Beverly could say anything, Selar continued her ranting. "My people will not stand for this. They will mass their warships and destroy every pathetic planet in the so-called, Romulan Empire!" She was shouting now. Suddenly she leapt off the bench, her improvised skirt falling behind her, and leapt into the detaining field. With a crackle and a flash, it propelled her back against the opposite wall. She slumped to the ground. Beverly ran over and lifted one of Selar's eyelids. The other eyelid popped open and Selar focussed on the Doctor through milky white eyes. She shook her head. "Doctor, that was illogical, wasn't it?" Selar asked. "That was damned stupid, Selar." Beverly was flushed with angry concern for her patient. Her face softened. "But understandable in your condition." Selar bent one leg and pressed the warm thigh against her other leg to keep the cold air away from her groin. Beverly started to get the jacket- skirt, but Selar pulled her closer. "Doctor. If I were in a better condition, I could use my mental powers to cause myself to die. I can't do that now, because I cannot draw upon the concentration necessary. Don't you think that it's ironic?" Beverly frowned and started to say something, but Selar cut her off. "If I were in perfect health I could kill myself, but now that I am infirm, I cannot." She clamped a hand over her mouth to suppress a laugh. in a moment she looked back at the Doctor. "You have to kill me since I can't kill myself." "Hush this talk of killing and dying. If you'll just hang on for a moment, Jean-Luc will be here to get us." She crossed her fingers. * * * * * Picard paced back and forth on the upper deck of the bridge. He was unusually agitated and was unable to sit still in his command chair while Beverly and Selar were lost. As the Captain paced on the upper deck, Riker paced around the lower level. Deanna Troi watched the two with growing irritation. Finally she stood up and faced the Captain. "Captain, you and Commander Riker are agitated to the point that you would both be close to useless in an emergency situation." She turned to face Riker. "I know you have both been up for longer than twenty-four hours and I suggest you both get some rest." They both knew from her looks that it was anything but a suggestion. Picard puffed out his chest in a simulation of perfect health. "Nonsense, Counselor. I am fit." He thumped his chest with his fist. Riker nodded his enthusiastic agreement. They looked for all the world like a pair of children trying to convince their mother that they didn't need to go to bed early. Deanna placed one hand on her hip. "Neither of you are in perfect fitness right now. If you don't heed my request then I can have the acting CMO make it a medical order." Her other hand hovered over her communicator. The two officer surrendered simultaneously. It looked like the air had been let out of them. Picard started to say something as he stepped toward the turbolift and Riker started up the ramp, but Data called out from his station. "Captain, I'm picking up energy signals similar to the ones the T'karin broadcasted to us. The readings are coming from just inside the neutral zone." Counselor Troi glared at the android as Picard swung around the rail of the upper deck and, with his Number-One, strode to the command chairs. Troi sank into her chair with her arms crossed, pouting. "Mr. Data, is it a cloaked Romulan vessel?" Riker asked. "Given the specific types of radiation, I believe it to be..." "Captain! On-Screen." Worf shouted, interrupting Data. They all looked to the viewer and saw a massive Romulan ship materialize in front of the Enterprise. The ship's running lights cast an eerie green brilliance onto the upper and lower wings of the Warbird. The ship slowed and rotated to face the Enterprise as it finished materializing. "Captain, sensors show that to be the Retribution. She is the ship that crippled the Dauntless." Worf's hands were poised over the weapon controls ready for the captain to call his warrior skills into action. "Shields? Weapons, sir?" "Yellow alert," Picard agreed. "And hail them." "Captain, they are hailing us," Worf said as he initiated the Yellow Alert and raised the shields. "Onscreen." The view resolved to that of two Romulans. One of them was smiling a confident grin and the other was quietly avoiding looking directly at the communication screens. There was a moment of silent evaluation as the two captains looked each other up and down. Picard spoke first. "This is Captain Jean-Luc Picard of the Federation starship Enterprise. You are currently in violation of the Neutral Zone Treaty. You engaged the USS Dauntless in battle four days ago. This is also a violation of the Neutral Zone Treaty as well as being a flagrant act of war." Picard's tirade did not impress the Romulan captain. "It seems that your view of the facts is skewed, Piek'rd. The Dauntless entered the neutral zone and engaged us in battle. We were forced to defend ourselves. Had we attacked the Dauntless in earnest, it would be dust right now." His grin faded and he leaned forward. "Perhaps we should have destroyed the Dauntless." Picard straightened his back. "Just what do you mean by that, captain..." "Falkl'or." The Romulan leaned back in his seat. "I mean that we have uncovered your spies in the neutral zone, Piek'rd, and soon we shall know exactly what your plans for them were." He smiled triumphantly and his second in command frowned silently, still not looking directly at Picard. "That is preposterous!" Picard turned partially away from the screen. "Oh is it?" Falkl'or looked down and pressed a control on a panel. He sneered as an inset window appeared on the screen. The inset showed the partially dismantled Enterprise shuttlecraft in the Romulan shuttlecraft bay. A horde of Romulan engineers and scientists were swarming over it taking it apart. Worf slammed a fist into the top of his console and Riker jumped up from his chair. Deanna rose from her chair with a bit more reservation, but with the same look of concern. Picard was furious. "What have you done with the passengers of that shuttle?" "Oh, don't worry, your agents are still alive, though one was slightly injured in an escape attempt." Falkl'or was clearly pleased at the reaction he was getting from the Enterprise crew, but his first officer shifted nervously again. Falkl'or pressed another control and an inset appeared showing the two doctors huddled in their cell. Deanna gasped when she saw Beverly's face and Selar's ripped uniform. "Those two women are doctors, not spies, and they were light-years away from the neutral zone. You must have been in Federation space to be able to intercept that shuttle." "We picked them up well inside the neutral zone." Falkl'or lied. "What would a pair of doctors be doing in the neutral zone." "That shuttle was headed to Vulcan on a medical mission of gravest necessity. You know they weren't inside the neutral zone. You must release them." "I do not have to do anything on your account, Piek'rd," Falkl'or scowled. "I must, however, be leaving now. If you attempt to stop me, YOU will be in violation of the Neutral Zone Treaty. Retribution out!" The main picture on the screen faded to black, leaving the two insets with the views of the shuttle and the prisoners. Worf jabbed his finger at a control to purge those two windows. "Captain," Data said, his fingers flying over the controls of his station. "The Romulans are getting ready to cloak. I am attempting to use the sensor readings from the T'karin to follow them..." He worked for a few more seconds. "Captain. A computer generated image of the Retribution is now appearing on the tactical displays. "Good! Helm, place us between the Retribution and the Romulan side of the neutral zone. Keep us directly in her path. Engage." He waited for a moment as the tactical display showed the Enterprise moving to block the Warbird. "Mr. Worf. If they attempt to jump to warp speed, target their engines with phasers - just enough to stop them." * * * * * On the Romulan ship, Falkl'or sat back in his command chair, pleased with the taunting he had just given the Federation captain. He chose to ignore the funk that his second in command was displaying. He was having too much fun teasing Piek'rd to chastise his sub-commander right now. "Helm, engage cloaking device and take us out of here." He glanced over his shoulder at Engineer R'annec at her station. She smiled confidently as the ship became invisible. The helmsman looked up at his captain. "Lord, the Federation vessel has moved directly into our course. She is remaining directly in our path." "What? Try evasive maneuver three-three." He pushed himself up out of his chair and stepped forward to look over the helmsman's shoulder. "Lord, she moves to block us each time. She can see us." Falkl'or turned and frowned at the Engineer who was busy running scans of the cloaking system. As the captain came up behind her, she turned to him and shrugged. He backfisted her across her cheek, knocking her into her console. "Report to Engineering. Get down there and fix your damned cloaking device so that the Enterprise can't see us. Don't leave there until you get it corrected." She was fuming as she stormed off the bridge. Her cheek was numb and was beginning to swell, but the bruise was not so noticeable yet. She was already green with fury. She stomped down the corridor and around the corner toward Engineering. Halfway to Engineering she passed by the brig and slid to a halt, an idea forming. She had intended to go see just why this Vulcan prisoner was changing Falkl'or so much. R'annec clinched her fist and turned into the brig. She was prepared for the Vulcan's quiet control, but she pulled up short in surprise at the detaining field. The Vulcan lay on her side facing the back wall. Her hair was in disarray and she wore a blue jacket as a skirt. She was convulsing slightly and breathing hard. "My God! That smell..." R'annec breathed. The human turned and stood up as R'annec turned off the detaining field and stepped inside the cell. The left side of the human's face was blue and her left eye was swollen shut. R'annec stepped toward the Vulcan, but the human slid between them. "I think your people have already done enough damage. If you're not a doctor, then why don't you leave." She reached up and brushed a strand of red hair out of her face. R'annec started to step around the human, but got cut off again. R'annec punched at the doctor, but Beverly sidestepped and tried to lead R'annec off balance for a T'ai Chi throw. It didn't work. R'annec flowed with Beverly, her motions as smooth as a cat. Too late Beverly realized she was off balance, then in the air. Beverly flipped through the air, spread- eagled, and landed face first on the floor. Pain exploded throughout her head and she had to fight to remain conscious. R'annec turned away from the disabled human and knelt at the Vulcan's side. She took her by a shoulder and pulled her onto her back. When the Vulcan didn't resist, but simply lay there shivering and panting, she sat back onto her heels and rubbed her chin. Hmmmmm, could it be? Surely Falkl'or wouldn't keep this Vulcan imprisoned during her mating time. R'annec turned toward the human who was clawing her way upright. she pointed back at the Vulcan. "Is this Pon Far?" Beverly tried to raise an eyebrow, but it hurt too much. She couldn't even bring herself to be sarcastic. She hooked an elbow over the side of a chair and leaned back against it. "Yeah. What do you know about Pon Far? What do you care?" "My people haven't completely shaken off the primitive urges of our Vulcan ancestors." She looked back at Selar. "Mostly it occurs in Romulan females now. The scent is similar. A lot of males don't even know that we still have traces of the urge." She looked back at Beverly, her expression softened. "I'm sure the captain would turn you both back over to the Enterprise if he knew her condition. We are a compassionate people." This time Beverly did raise an eyebrow. She shook her hair out of her face. "It doesn't matter. You've killed her anyway. I doubt she'll make it much longer and without medical supplies I can't help her." R'annec looked back down ar Selar. "I can help her." She started to reach out to Selar, but Beverly lurched forward. R'annec reached up and placed her hand on Beverly's chest. With a push she sent the doctor sliding backward across the cell. "Our people are not as evil as you think - you'll see. I will make her stronger right now and the captain will take you back to the Enterprise when I tell him about her condition." The Romulan looked down at the Vulcan and took a deep breath. Placing her fingertips on either side of Selar's head, she found the temples. Beverly looked on in amazement as R'annec began a mind meld. * * * * * The helmsman on the Enterprise worked constantly, and with Data's help was able to keep the Enterprise in the path of the Romulan ship. Worf was poised, anxiously awaiting any attempt to escape, but the Romulan ship finally powered down their engines and sat quietly in space, ignoring the Enterprise's hails. "Captain, message from Vulcan. It is Staoq again." The captain looked weary, but managed to pull himself together. "Onscreen." The elderly Vulcan appeared on the screen and began speaking without any amenities. "Captain Picard. Have you located Selar yet?" "We have located her, but she is being held captive by the Romulans." "She is still alive?" "Last time we saw her she was alive but looked to be in bad shape." The Vulcan thought for a moment then spoke simply. "My son is beyond our ability to help, now. If you are unable to return Selar to Vulcan very soon, He will die." Staoq terminated the communication with that. Picard stood up and strode toward the ready room, talking. "Mr. Data, You have the bridge. Commander Riker - come with me. I want to talk to my senior staff in fifteen minutes." The door whooshed shut behind the two officers. * * * * * Falkl'or strode into Engineering and was surprised not to see R'annec working on the cloaking device. He looked around, but there were only a few of R'annec's subordinates running Engineering. "Where is Commander R'annec?" None of the engineers knew, so he stormed over to a computer console. "Computer, where is Commander R'annec?" "Commander R'annec is in Engineering." He turned to see R'annec just walking into the engineering room. His eyes were big and he was mad. "Where have you been? I told you not to leave here until you had the cloaking device repaired." She took him by the elbow and steered him into her office. "I have found out something extraordinary. It is quite important." As the door closed behind them, she turned and leaned against her desk. "I stopped by to see the Vulcan prisoner on my way to engineering." "What!" She cringed. "I wanted to know why you have been acting so strangely lately." "Strangely in what way?" His mood was not improving. "You just haven't been yourself lately and I've found the reason. The Vulcan prisoner is experiencing Pon Far." "Pon Far? So what?" "So, she is emitting pheromones that are making you and the other males on this ship act atypically. That's also why the two guards tried to rape her. They couldn't help themselves." "That's rubbish. We have advanced past being influenced by such basic animal instincts. Besides, that is not the point. The point is I told you to go to engineering and you disobeyed." "My Lord, if we turn the Vulcan back over to the Federation vessel, we can leave in peace - we won't need the cloaking device. It is cruel to keep her here during Pon Far." The Romulan captain's face hardened. "I don't give a damn about Pon Far. It is amusing to see a Vulcan in this condition; I knew all along that their perfect emotionless attitude was a ruse." He sneered and continued. "The only reason I killed the two guards was because I thought they might kill the prisoners; and that would make them useless to us. I'd let every crewman on this ship take the Vulcan if I didn't think it would relieve her suffering. Let the bitch stay in heat for all I care." "But my Lord, she'll die." "Forget the prisoners, R'annec. It is unbecoming an officer of your station to show concern in such matters." He took her by her shoulders and pressed his body against hers. "I think that when I complete this mission and bring these prisoners back to the Council, there will be a nice reward in it for me." He kissed her on her neck, his mouth lingering just below her ear. "But what about the Enterprise?" "They are as good as destroyed. I have put in a call for backups and three warships are responding. As soon as the Enterprise is destroyed, I will begin my new life of power on Romulus." He pushed her back and held her by her shoulders. "And you, if you stop showing undue concern in matters that are not yours to trouble with, can benefit from this too." He smiled a reassuring smile at her. She smiled back at him, but was still troubled with the Vulcan. Newsgroups: alt.startrek.creative Path: moe.ksu.ksu.edu!zaphod.mps.ohio-state.edu!sdd.hp.com!mips!darwin.sura.net!nntp.msstate.edu!Ra.MsState.Edu!plp1 From: plp1@Ra.MsState.Edu (pat parker) Subject: CORRECTED REPOST; _T'Selar_ part4 Message-ID: Sender: news@ra.msstate.edu Nntp-Posting-Host: ra.msstate.edu Organization: Mississippi State University Date: Sun, 12 Jul 1992 02:33:36 GMT Lines: 564 Star Trek The Next Generation _T'Selar_ _Part_IV_ By Patrick Parker, June 1992 * * * * * The five Enterprise officers sat around the polished black table as Captain Picard stood, his hands resting on the back of his chair. He looked at each of them in turn. "Counselor, what impressions did you get about the doctors' condition?" "Nothing beyond the obvious, Captain. Beverly, besides being injured, is feeling helpless. Selar's thoughts are chaotic; I sensed," she paused, clearly disturbed. "hatred." Geordi looked up surprised. "Hate, Counselor? I thought Vulcans were beyond emotions such as that." "No, Geordi, the Vulcans can normally hide their emotions completely, but during certain physically stressful times, their emotions can show. Though I admit, I've never sensed hate from a Vulcan." "Hmmmmm," Picard pondered aloud for a moment. "Mr. LaForge, Data, can we pinpoint the doctors' position aboard the Retribution?" Geordi spoke up. "We can program the sensors to locate humans and Vulcans aboard the Retribution. It'll only take a few minutes. We can get their location and O'Brien can reset the transporter to operate during the Romulan's shield fluctuations. Should be no problem." "No, Commander LaForge." Worf looked disappointed in the Engineer's simple-minded scheme. "The detention cells on board the Warbird will be shielded specifically against transporter beams. You will not be able to beam them out of their cells." "Well," Riker said, simply. "We'll just have to go in there and take them out of their cells." "Captain. We do not have much time to implement this plan." Data was looking at a terminal that was sitting on the conference table. "Long-range sensors have just detected three more Warbirds en route to this position. They will arrive in one hour, twenty three minutes." Picard nodded and looked at Riker. "Prepare a boarding party and wait in transporter room three while Mr. LaForge and O'Brien locate the doctors and punch through the shields with the transporter beam." "Right." Riker stood up and started for the door. "Mr Worf, Data, accompany me to transporter room three." * * * * * Selar was huddled in the corner of her cell muttering to herself in Vulcan. Every once in a while she would lapse into Federation Common, and Beverly would pick up a vile curse. Selar was stronger after the Romulan woman's mind meld, but she was still very emotional. Dr. Crusher looked up. She had dried blood on her upper lip and chin from where she had reset her own broken nose. She couldn't open her jaw very wide and both of her eyes were swollen almost shut. Her voice was a deep, throaty mumble. "Selar, calm down. The Romulan woman helped you. You would have died if she hadn't." "I would prefer to have died," The Vulcan's black eyebrows were pulled down and together over her white eyes in a look of pure hatred. "rather than to have mind-melded with that...thing." "But..." Crusher began to refute the Vulcan, but was cut short when Selar continued. "I'd rather have been raped by the guards. At least that way my mind would still be my own." She clenched her fists. "If that crone comes back here I will kill her." * * * * * R'annec was perched on a catwalk, half-heartedly working on the cloaking shield generator. Below her, the power couplings for the cloaking device and the defensive and navigational shields lay exposed. She waved a tool over the couplings and sat back, dropping the instrument on the catwalk. I can't believe he doesn't care about the Vulcan woman. He was never like that before. It must be the pheromones. He's reacting to them a bit differently than he would to a Romulan woman's. She picked up another tool and leaned into the pulsing cabinet. Scanning the power bus, she frowned and leaned back. "Computer, what is causing the surges during the shield fluctuations?" "An external power source is attempting to transmit power from outside the defensive shields to inside." She picked up a data pad and called out to the computer. "Computer, place a graph of the external power supply on data pad number sixteen." As the image appeared on the hand-held computer, she frowned and pondered the strange signal. "Computer, overlay this image with the graph of the transporter energy output." The computer complied and she thought for a moment. "Not OUR transporter signal, the Federations'." The computer changed the display on her data pad and she smiled as the pattern matched almost exactly. "So, they're trying to beam over here. We'll fix that." R'annec leaned back. "Computer, modulate the shield frequencies using a random offset frequency and change that offset frequency at random intervals, not to exceed fifteen seconds." She leaned forward into the shielding cabinet again and began making adjustments, satisfied that it would be impossible for the Federation ship to beam through the shields now. She frowned. If Falkl'or would just return the Vulcan to her ship, this could end. Senseless. She shook her head. * * * * * Geordi looked up from the transporter console and blew an exasperated breath, his cheeks puffing out. He reached up and scratched his forehead. Looking over at O'Brien, he shrugged. "Damn! We just about had it. They started modulating their shields just as we were about to break through." The transporter chief scowled and tweaked another control on the panel, then looked up and shook his head. There was no way they were going to be able to get a signal through that. Both of them stood back and looked up at the away team waiting on the transporter platform. Riker, Worf, and Data were wearing shiny, black, energy-ablative vests over their standard Starfleet jackets to help protect them from phaser fire. Worf would have preferred full Klingon battle armor, but the Enterprise didn't carry armor in their arsenal. The ablative vests were intended to provide minimal protection during unshielded engine work, but they would serve as armor in a pinch. The three stepped down from the transporter pad when the Engineer indicated that it was useless trying to beam through. Worf looked positively deflated. Riker reached up and tapped his badge, which he had pinned on his shoulder when he put the vest on. "Riker to Picard. We're unable to punch a transporter beam through the Romulan shields. They've discovered our plans and they are specifically blocking us." He tilted his head, looked up at the ceiling, and awaited a reply. On the bridge, Picard plopped into his chair, his plans exhausted. * * * * * The Vulcans stood around the sleeping mat, discussing the dying Vulcan. The doctors had done everything medically possible to stabilize Styhk's condition, but by refusing Pentu's services, Styhk had sacrificed his own life. "There is a way." Styhk's elderly father stated to the doctors. The doctors stood waiting quietly for the elderly Vulcan to continue. "A mind meld will strengthen him. It will give Picard time to retrieve Selar." One of the doctors shook his head. "Unadvisable." "With a group meld, the side effects should be negligible." The doctor looked down at Styhk, who was weeping and spasming. He looked back up and repeated his diagnosis. "Unadvisable." Staoq glanced at his emotional son and considered the possible side effects of melding with a mind in such turmoil. Even with the effects spread over a group, insanity could ensue; or even worse - emotion. The elderly Vulcan bowed his head in deference to the doctor's logic. * * * * * R'annec shook her head, leaned back, and rubbed her temples. She was beginning to get a headache but she couldn't stop now. The cloaking device was still not working properly, and Falkl'or had told her not to leave until the ship was invisible again. With a huff, she leaned back into her work. As she adjusted the device, her thoughts drifted back to the prisoners. The mind meld had been painful; the Vulcan's mind was in such turmoil. R'annec had actually felt the guard on top of her, had smelled his breath and the smell of the phaser burning through him. She could feel her logic slipping away; her sanity leaving her. R'annec had also felt Selar's hatred for the Romulans. I don't really blame her, the engineer thought. Falkl'or should have let her go. Damned foolishness, that's what this is. Selar should not be here. She should be lying with Styhk. Poor Styhk, he sent me...sent her poems every week, faithfully. Why can't I... R'annec shook her head again. Why can't she be there for him - he needs her...needs us now. I can't just stand around while Styhk needs me. She leaned back again and looked down from the catwalk. There were two other engineers in the room, but they were occupied. She carefully removed the protective shielding from the back of one of her instruments, exposing the power pack. With another look around, she leaned forward and carefully lay the instrument inside the cabinet with the power pack touching the couplings. Hmmm. Now to make it look like an accident. She looked around. The other engineers were still busy. She picked up her data pad and scooted closer to the cabinet. She lay her head on the side of the opening to the power couplings, carefully positioning herself where she would be scorched by the blast, but not killed. With one more glance at the busy engineers, she spoke softly into the sensor on the data pad. "Computer, raise the charge on the power couplings one-hundred and fifty percent." There was a faint hum, followed by a blast of noise and sparks. She screamed and dove off the catwalk, her hair singed. As she rolled to a stop on the deck and looked back, a secondary blast melted the power coupling, it's cabinet, and the catwalk into slag. There, she thought. Now it's up to the humans. As the other engineers ran over and helped her up, a call came in from the bridge. "What the hell was that!" Falkl'or was outraged and R'annec was glad he was on the other side of the intercom. She ran over to an Engineering console and checked a screen. Then she addressed the intercom. "My Lord, there has been an accident here in Engineering. Shield and cloaking generators are damaged. It'll take about five minutes to reroute power. Engineer out." She thumbed the communication panel off before he had a chance to reply. One of R'annec's subordinates looked up at her after checking another screen. "Engineer, I think we can reroute power through the submixers and save a couple of minutes." Damn, she thought, but displayed no emotion. "Good idea, engineer." She touched the intercom button. "My Lord, make that three minutes." Damn, she thought. * * * * * On the bridge of the Enterprise, Picard had just stood up from his chair. He was tilting his head back and pressing his fingers into the back of his neck, hoping to squeeze the tension headache out of existence. He thought back to the start of this mission. I knew this wouldn't be simple. Just a matter of time until the Romulans showed up. Blast their incessant interference. Deanna leaned back in her chair, her forehead creased with concern. She knew it was futile to suggest Picard get some rest right now. She was about to suggest calling a doctor to administer a headache remedy when an alarm on the Operations console tweedled. Picard snapped back to attention. "Captain," said the operations ensign. "There has been an explosion aboard the Retribution. Her shield generators appear to be disabled." "Ha!" Picard strode forward to stand between the Helm and the Operations stations. "Is there any indication how long they will be down?" The ensign nervously ran his fingers over the panel for several seconds while Picard waited, impatiently looking over the ensign's shoulder. "They seem to be charging a set of power mixers to power the shields. I'd estimate about five minutes, sir." He looked up at the captain. "Best guess." "That'll have to do." The captain looked up from the operations console. "Picard to Riker. The Retribution's shields are down. You have four minutes to get the doctors out of there." "We're halfway there, captain," came the Commander's voice. * * * * * The three Federation officers materialized in a triangle, facing outward, weapons drawn. The corridor was empty, though; O'Brien had done a good job of placing them. The normal lighting on the Warbird had a slight greenish tinge, and the red emergency lighting combined with this to make everything look dull and grayish. Worf dropped into a fighting stance looking down the corridor while Riker watched down the other way. Data stood in the middle with a phaser in one hand and tricorder in the other. He swept the tricorder in a wide arc and indicated the direction they should move. Data and Worf led the way, with Riker following a few paces behind. They quietly ran down the corridor for about forty meters, rounded a corner, and ran into a couple of Romulans. Data and Worf each stunned one of the surprised Romulans. They stepped over the prostrate bodies and continued. "We are now entering the transporter-shielded area of the Warbird," Data whispered flatly. "I'm reading the doctors' life signs twenty meters in that direction." He pointed down the corridor and moved off. Riker checked his chronometer and started after Data and Worf. "Three minutes left." When they rounded the second corner, they were in the outer room of the brig. Four Romulan guards stood in the room, but these Romulans weren't surprised. Phasers were raised and fired, but the ablative vests dispersed the deadly energy. Riker, Worf, and Data ducked back out of the room and took cover around the edge of the door. Data stood fingering the controls of the tricorder while Riker and Worf fired quick shots into the room to keep the guards away. They had managed to stun two of them when more arrived from a door in the other side of the brig. "Commander," Data said. "I am reading Romulan reinforcements." Riker ducked back out of the doorway as a barrage of phaser beams burst into the corridor and sizzled against the bulkhead opposite the door. "No kidding!" Riker fired another shot around the corner. "No, Commander. I am detecting fifteen Romulan troops moving this way from that direction." He pointed back down the corridor they had come down earlier just as the first of the reinforcements ran into the corridor, phasers blasting. * * * * * "Sir, the shields! They're coming up faster than expected." Picard leaned forward. "How much longer?" "Now estimating one minute, captain" The captain frowned and considered his options for a moment. "Have they reached the beam-back site yet?" "No sir, they're still inside the shielded area. I'm now reading large amounts of phaser fire." Picard reached down to the arm of his chair and pressed a button. The sound of phaser fire came over the communication channel. "Picard to Riker. The shields are coming up faster than expected. You have only one minute left. Move to a point where we can beam you back." "But captain," came the shouted reply. "We're within spitting range of the doctors. We've got to get them out of here!" "There's not enough time. Move back to the transport site immediately." He paused. "That's an order." There was no sound on the channel except the crackling of phaser discharge. Finally Riker responded. "We're cut off captain. We'll have to try to find another site outside this shielding." Riker fired a shot at the advancing Romulan troops, then dove inside another door across the hall from the brig. As Data leaped into the door, Riker motioned him into the lead position, then followed. Worf paused at the door, mashed a button on the phaser, and threw it back down the hall at the pursuers. "Thirty seconds!" Riker yelled back at the Klingon. Drawing another phaser from under his vest, Worf hurried after the other two. "The transporter-shielding ends in another eighty meters, Commander." Data read from the tricorder. The three officers turned and sprinted down the corridor as a loud explosion sounded behind them. "Hmmmph," Worf grunted in satisfaction as he ran. * * * * * R'annec was working as slowly as possible, while not overtly hindering the shield repairs. She had ducked into a control cabinet and was making some adjustments to the shielding circuits when she heard phaser fire in the engineering room. Peeking out of the control cabinet, she saw three armored Starfleet men with phasers. The half-dozen engineers were quickly stunned and the intruders glanced around the room. Not spotting R'annec, the tall, dark-haired human, tapped his communicator and called out for the transporter to engage. R'annec ducked back into the cabinet and slapped the palm of her hand onto her forehead. "Damn! They didn't get the prisoners." She thought for a moment, then looked out of the cabinet again. The shimmering transporter effect was beginning to take place. "Damn." she repeated, and jumped out of the cabinet, running at the three officers. The bearded human was surprised and didn't quite have time to raise his weapon when the lunging Romulan hit him with her entire body. The Romulan security guards burst into the engineering room moments later, only to find the six unconscious engineers. * * * * * As the frustrated landing party materialized, R'annec and Riker fell to the platform. Both of Data's hands were full and he looked back and forth between them for a moment trying to determine what to do with the phaser and tricorder so that he could help the Commander. He finally put the instruments down on the transporter pad and moved to help Riker, but the Klingon was already there. Worf pulled the Romulan off the top of Riker and threw her across the transporter room with a puissant shout. R'annec hit the ground and skidded across the floor into the far corner. She started to get up and Worf leapt forward with his phaser trained on her chest. With a grimace, he started to thumb the trigger. "Mr. Worf!" Riker shouted, getting up. Worf growled and R'annec remained frozen halfway to her feet. "At ease, Mr. Worf!" The Klingon slowly relaxed his body - just slightly. He remained vigilant, though, and when R'annec began to rise again, he growled, rendering her motionless again. "I'm here to help you get your doctors back." R'annec explained from the corner. "Unlikely," snarled Worf. Riker nodded to the Klingon security officer. "Agreed. Mr. Worf, escort her to the brig." "Gladly." He moved forward and attempted to grab R'annec by the arm, but she jerked her arm away from him and shouted at Riker. "Keep your ogre's hands off of me, damnit! You can point me where you want me to go, but I don't want to be touched by that thing again." She flicked her eyes at the outraged Klingon. "You," Worf stressed. "don't have a say in the matter, Romulan!" He made another grab for her arm, but she eluded him again. "Call your ogre off, commander. I'm here to help you." "Mr. Worf, Could you simply direct our -guest- to her cell." Riker conceded. Worf grumblingly complied and backed off, waving his phaser toward the door. The Romulan Engineer stood up and straightened her uniform, then left the room with the Klingon following a short distance behind. Riker looked at Data and shrugged. * * * * * The cell block of the Retribution was a mess. Beverly and Selar watched through the detention field as Romulan medics revived the stunned guards and technicians repaired the battle-damaged equipment in the outer room. "Do you suppose the boarding party escaped? Do you suppose," Beverly addressed the Vulcan hesitantly. "that they're still alive?" "They have not been brought here to be detained, Doctor. As for their medical condition, I cannot say." Selar's voice was tinged with irritation at the illogical question. "They were so close. They almost had us." Beverly turned away from the detention field and paced a few steps, considering the abortive rescue attempt. "As you can see, Beverly..." Selar's irritation trailed off as did her voice. Beverly turned around to see the Vulcan pitch forward and hit the floor. * * * * * The boarding party hardly had time to remove their ablative vests when they were summoned to the conference room. When Picard heard the description of what happened aboard the Retribution, and about the Romulan woman being brought back, he made a thoughtful noise and had Worf send for her to be brought to the conference room. He stood looking out the window at the green running lights of the Retribution while they waited in silence. When the Romulan arrived, with a pair of security officers, Picard turned around and looked at her for a moment. She stood quiet and still until he spoke. "What is your name and rank?" "R'annec. My position is analogous to that of your Chief Engineer." Picard glanced at Troi who gave him an almost imperceptible nod. "Engineer R'annec, didn't you think it a bit futile to attempt to tackle my officer while he was already in transit. You couldn't have stopped him, but you could have killed both him and yourself." "As I have told your ogre, I was not attempting to stop him from transporting. I wanted to be brought here to help you." "Hmmmph!" Worf looked away from the prisoner. Picard ignored the Klingon's objection and thought for another moment. "Why should you desire to help us?" "The Vulcan, Selar should not be there. She should be on Vulcan, but the captain will not return her to you. Her condition is affecting the males on the Retribution. They are not themselves." "Selar's condition?" Troi asked. Picard had not told anyone else the nature of Selar's journey to Vulcan, but he now gave them the most terse update possible. "Why do you concern yourself with Selar's condition?" Picard continued. "I just do." "What makes you think you think you can help us?" Riker queried the Romulan prisoner. "You can use me as a bargaining chip. If you manipulate the situation correctly, my captain will trade your officers for my release." "That is a lie." Worf stated flatly. "The Romulans would never make a trade of prisoners - especially two for one." He looked at R'annec. "They do not have that much honor." The Klingon folded his arms across his chest, effectively ending the conversation as far as he was concerned. "The captain..." R'annec paused, considering her words. "Cares. He and I are - close." R'annec frowned the smallest of frowns. Troi didn't miss it, and she frowned also. Riker saw the counselor's reaction and spoke out. "I agree with Worf. They won't bite for this one." "You don't have a choice." R'annec shouted. "If you don't hurry, Selar will die, and so will all of you. There are more Warbirds on their way to destroy you. They'll be here in minutes." Data looked over at Picard. "Twenty one minutes to weapons range, captain." There was a silence, during which Picard walked back around the table and looked out the window again. He turned back around and looked at each of the officers in turn. Worf shook his head no. Riker shook his head no. Data made no motion or expression. Geordi shrugged. Deanna nodded. "Counselor?" "Captain, she is truly concerned - I don't know why. She believes that the captain of the Retribution will make the trade." She sat calmly with her hands in her lap. Picard was silent for another minute, while all eyes focussed on him. Finally he nodded. "We don't have anything to lose playing this hand out." He started toward the door, but R'annec called out. "Captain," Picard turned to her. "A favor please?" Worf grunted. Picard raised an eyebrow. "I do not wish to look like a traitor to my people. Do not mention my cooperation." She paused. The room was silent. "Please." Picard mumbled something incomprehensible, turned and left. * * * * * "My lord, they are hailing us." Falkl'or spun around to the screen, still in a rage. "Put them through." Falkl'or's second in command stepped up beside the captain as the screen resolved to the bridge of the Enterprise. Piek'rd sat in his chair with a smug look. Strange, Falkl'or thought. He almost looks proud that his rescue attempt failed. "You seem quite satisfied with yourself, Piek'rd. Despite the fact that your raiding party failed completely." "Not completely, captain. We didn't get our people back, but we got the next best thing." He smiled and motioned to his side. A Klingon entered the range of the viewer dragging R'annec behind him in chains. The Klingon pushed her onto her knees in front of Piek'rd. Falkl'or's jaw dropped. "It seems, Falkl'or, that we did manage to bring back a quite valuable member of your crew. Your Chief Engineer, in fact. Quite informative." Falkl'or stammered and Piek'rd continued. "Perhaps you would like to discuss a trade." Falkl'or's jaw snapped shut at the bold idea. He looked thoughtful. The second in command stepped forward. "Outrageous! You should know that we would never..." He was brought up short as the back of Falkl'or's fist found his face. Falkl'or smiled as his first officer stumbled back. "That is...acceptable, Piek'rd. I would enjoy getting such a valuable officer back." The first officer's eyes flew open as he held his nose. Falkl'or continued. "Our conduct has been truly miscreant. Please forgive me and return my officer in trade for yours." Picard smiled. "If you will move our doctors to a transporter pad on your ship, we will pick them up with our transporters. To do so, we will both have to lower our shields, at which time you can beam your engineer back. The trade will be simultaneous." Falkl'or beamed a broad grin. "Very good, Captain. We will call you when we get the doctors in position for transport. Retribution out." * * * * * "He's lying," said Riker, Deanna, and Worf simultaneously as the communication channel closed. The looked at each other and Troi continued. "He is definitely dissembling. He does not truly intend to trade prisoners in good faith." Picard looked up at Geordi, who was standing at the main-bridge engineering terminal. "Is there anything they can do to stop it, Mr. LaForge?" "Not that I can see, captain. They'll have to lower their shields to beam her back, and they couldn't possibly raise them again fast enough to block us from locking onto the doctors." Picard nodded. "Mr. Worf, remove those manacles and escort Engineer R'annec to transporter room three." He looked back to the other bridge officers. "We may as well try, since Commander LaForge doesn't see how they could stop it. We need to get the doctors back and get out of the neutral zone before the Romulan warships arrive in ..." Data looked up. "Twelve minutes." * * * * * Dr. Crusher was hoping for a miracle. She sat in the cell beside Selar, staring at the floor. The Vulcan lay very still on the floor, her eyes glazed over with the milky membranes. She was not asleep, but she wasn't exactly awake either. Bev had felt that Jean-Luc would come through for her - and she knew he'd tried, but she was beginning to fear it was too late. Selar was about to die. Tears of frustration squeezed from Bev's blackened and swollen eyes. She could understand what Selar had meant about the sound of the detention field getting on her nerves. Logically, Dr. Crusher knew there was no way she could be hearing the subsonics of the field, but she swore she could hear their hum in her head. The sound, whether imagined or real, rattled her soul to it's core and drained her of hope. She sat alone in the cell slowly losing her mind. Suddenly everything was quiet. No subsonic hum. She stared at the floor in disbelief. Had she just snapped? Was that the end of her sanity? She was startled when a pair of Romulan guards picked her up by the arms and began to carry her from the cell. To weak and afraid to resist, she looked back to see another pair of guards picking up Selar and following along behind. They were carried down the hall and around a corner. Bev tried to keep up with where they were, but her vision was blurry. They were carried for an indeterminate amount of time before they set her down. Bev looked up and realized that she and Selar were on a transporter pad. She looked around. There was another Romulan - familiar. Oh, it's the Romulan captain. Crusher suddenly realized they were being released. They were going home. "Oh, thank you, Jean-Luc; thank you," she said to noone in particular. Selar looked up, weakly and smiled. Bev reached out and took Selar's hand and squeezed it. "We're going home, Selar. Hold on." They held hands as the transporter beam began to dematerialize them. As they disappeared, R'annec began to materialize. Just as she became solid, during the brief moment of disorientation, Falkl'or reached up and jerked her from the pad. "Now!" He shouted at the transporter operator, who pressed a set of buttons on his console. The Romulan smiled and nodded at his captain. * * * * * O'Brien smiled as R'annec dematerialized off of his pad. He already had the lock on the two doctors and he thumbed the control to transport them home. He grinned bigger as the doctors began to take shape on his pad. O'Brien loved his job. Suddenly the doctors were gone. He blinked and looked at the controls. he still had a lock, but their signals were dispersing. Oh my God! He ran his fingers over the controls and the doctor's forms flickered, then disappeared again. O'Brien hated his job. "What do you mean they're fading?" Riker shouted into the communicator badge. O'Brien's voice came back over the channel. "Their signals are being scrambled, sir. I'm losing them." "Well hang onto them, damnit!" Picard turned to Worf. "Open hailing frequencies." He turned back around to see the Romulan bridge, Falkl'or standing in the center, holding R'annec by the elbow. R'annec had a look of outrage on her face. "What have you done?" Picard shouted at the Romulan captain. Falkl'or just grinned. "I would suggest you give us back the prisoners before they're completely lost." Chief O'Brien's voice came over the communicator again. "Captain, there's nothing I can do. I'm losing them." "O'Brien, place them back onto the Retribution, immediately." Picard stared at the Romulan captain who was grinning like an ass. He turned his attention To R'annec. Raising his finger, he shouted, "You!" Just that moment, Counselor stood up, reached over the rail to Worf's console, and slapped the control to terminate communications. Worf and Picard both scowled at her. "Captain, she asked you not to reveal her part in the rescue attempt." "She lied!" Worf growled at the counselor, who stood her ground. "She tried, captain. This deception was not her doing. By not exposing her, perhaps she may still be able to help us." "Do you think so, counselor?" Picard asked. "I do." Just then, Data turned around in his chair at the operations console. "Captain, I don't think Engineer R'annec will have time to help us. There are three Warbirds entering weapons range; on tactical." Everyone on the bridge looked up to see three ships swoop in to encircle the Enterprise, their forward disruptors glowing like the furnaces of hell. Newsgroups: alt.startrek.creative Path: moe.ksu.ksu.edu!zaphod.mps.ohio-state.edu!sdd.hp.com!mips!darwin.sura.net!nntp.msstate.edu!Ra.MsState.Edu!plp1 From: plp1@Ra.MsState.Edu (pat parker) Subject: _T'Selar_ part 5 - the conclusion Message-ID: Sender: news@ra.msstate.edu Nntp-Posting-Host: ra.msstate.edu Organization: Mississippi State University Date: Sun, 12 Jul 1992 02:34:18 GMT Lines: 649 Star Trek The Next Generation _T'Selar_ _Part_V_ By Patrick Parker, June 1992 * * * * * "Helm, try to maneuver us out of this circle." Picard sat back in his chair and braced himself for the inevitable battle. "Mr. Worf, fire at your own discretion." He cringed at the thought of releasing the Klingon to his own discretion. They had tried to hail the ships - tried to deter combat. The Romulans weren't responding with talk, but with attack posturing. Each of the four Warbirds spat forth a globule of energy at the Enterprise. Worf's skillful manipulation of the phaser banks destroyed two of the globules before the other two sizzled against the ship's shields. "Captain. I can't get us out of this circle. They're anticipating our moves." The ensign at the helm was getting panicky. "The Picard Maneuver?" Riker pondered aloud. "No, Number-One, it's old-hat. The Romulans study that tactic with greater diligence than our own cadets do. We seem to be forced into a slugging match." Picard's jaw twitched at the unpleasant thought of trading shots with four Warbirds. Worf, however, smiled as he launched attack after attack on the enemy vessels. Data looked back from his console. "Captain, I would estimate our chances of winning a direct battle with these four D'daridex class Warbirds to be approximately one in five-hundred thousand, seven-hundred, twen..." "Yes, Data, I know." Picard cut the android short just as another burst of enemy fire jolted the ship. The android turned back to his station. "Captain. Sensor arrays are damaged and warp drive capability is failing," Data announced. Worf pounded his fist on his console. "Weapons malfunction, Captain. Targeting is operational, but the firing hardware is not." He paused and sighed. "Shields are also failing." The captain contemplated briefly the apt naming of the Romulan warships. They reminded him of the fierce birds used for wars and hunts in ancient Europe. He watched as they swooped around the Enterprise picking their shots. He was brought out of his trance by the last of the damage reports, this one from Engineering. "Captain, If the ship takes much more, the antimatter containment fields will fold." The Chief Engineer was shouting into the intercom to be heard above the noise of fire extinguishers going off in engineering. Riker turned to the Captain. "Sir, shall I initiate saucer-separation?" It was times like this that the captaincy of the Enterprise weighed heavily on Jean-Luc Picard. Thousands of lives balanced on his decisions. The lives of non-starfleet personnel. The lives of children. His personal distaste for having civilians and their children on the Enterprise had been softened by the exceptionally-talented Wesley Crusher, but had never been fully assuaged. No decisions of a starfleet captain were ever easy, but this was a particularly perplexing choice for him. "No. We cannot allow the Romulans to take the crew of this ship as prisoners. We saw their treatment of the doctors. I cannot allow that to happen to my crew. Not a thousand of them - not even two of them. I have a plan." The bridge crew listened as he laid out his bold orders for them. They would use a final burst of warp energy to blast the Enterprise between two of the Warbirds. As they passed between the Romulan ships, the engine nacelles would be jettisoned, and would smash into the warships. The already-dying engines would serve as warp-speed, antimatter torpedos, leaving them with only two Warbirds to contend with - not a much-improved situation. As a last result, Picard would pilot the crippled Enterprise into the Retribution, eliminating the possibility of prisoners. When Picard finished with the hasty explanation the bridge crew sat in silence for a moment. They then turned back to their stations. It was clear in their minds that the captain was right in his decision. Grim determination etched their features. As they made preparations for the captain's plan, each of them also prepared themselves for the likelihood of death. Riker and Deanna stole a glance at each other. Deanna smiled a comforting smile. Picard thought back to his brother's family on Earth, and to his own wife and children - a thousand years dead. He felt ancient. Data performed his duties to within a mil of specs, but still had free processor time enough to dedicate a subroutine to the contemplation of death. Worf swelled with pride at the upcoming strategy. It did have a distinctive honor to it. When all preparations were made, Picard and Riker stood, and held up their right arms, index fingers outstretched at the flickering images of the Warbirds on the damaged main viewer. The crew's hands hovered over their controls. The Captain and the Commander gave the order simultaneously. "Engag..." Before the order was complete, a pair of ships crossed in front of the Enterprise, unleashing fiery energy on the Romulan Warbirds. As recognition came across the faces of the bridge crew, a threesome of ships dropped onto the Romulans, firing torpedos as they fell. The Romulan ships fell quickly back to a few hundred thousand kilometers as the five new ships settled like a halo around the damaged Enterprise. Data turned to the Captain. "Reliant-Class Vulcan Defense ships, Sir. T'karin, T'Pau II, Diversity, Savant-Child, and Regent." Riker grinned and Picard smiled a more subdued - but none the less relieved - smile. "Mr. Worf," Picard said. "Hail the T'karin and the others. Relay our gratitude to the captains." He sank back into his chair and pinched the bridge of his nose between his thumb and index finger. * * * * * R'annec had been standing at the engineering station of the Retribution during the battle. She wasn't doing anything, just sitting and staring at the screens, trying to calm down. The sonofabitch - he has screwed everything up, damnit! When the Vulcan ships arrived and the Romulans were forced to back off and, she slapped her hand down onto the console to place it in sleep mode, then turned to leave the bridge. Falkl'or caught her elbow and when she resisted, dragged her out of the bridge. She matched his long strides to keep from being dragged along. The bastard! I can't believe his damned outrageous nerve. R'annec was in a furious daydream as they walked toward engineering. She assumed they were going to engineering, and was rudely jerked out of her daydream-funk when he turned toward his quarters and yanked her along behind him. Her jaw hung open at his audacity. Reaching his quarters, she jerked her elbow away from Falkl'or and stepped inside the room, rubbing her bruised arm. She paused for a moment, her rage building as he spoke. "The stupid Federation bastards and their Vulcan slaves can have their brief reprieve. We still have the prisoners and soon we will destroy Piek'rd and the Vulcans also." He grinned an evil grin and reached for her. She stepped away, still rubbing her arm. "You are outrageous!" R'annec shouted at him. "Your ship is in a battle situation and you're in here wanting sex." He frowned for a moment, then smiled again. "Don't worry about that. We have time for this." He reached out for her again. "It will only take a couple of minutes, then we can go destroy the Enterprise and begin out new life of power in the Romulan council. Now off with this." "I don't think so." Her eyebrows grew together as he grabbed for her jacket. With a violent scream she kicked his knee and backed away. The joint collapsed backward and he hit the floor screaming and clawing at her legs. As he clawed at the floor, she calmly stepped over and picked a phaser from his weapon display. She smiled as the deadly burst of phaser energy consumed him. * * * * * Doctor Crusher sat quietly beside Selar's prostrate form. Her hands were folded in her lap and she stared into the corner. She had never given up hope before. Well, maybe for a short time after Jack had died, but now she was truly without hope. The failed rescue attempt and the near-release combined to form an albatross that was too much for her tired body and mind to bear. She didn't flinch when the detention field's buzzing stopped this time. It was just another trick. Her hopes wouldn't be foiled this time. She would suppress them like Selar would have. She looked over at Selar. The Romulan, R'annec was bent over the Vulcan. It didn't matter, though. She couldn't help Selar now. Maybe with some medical equipment, they could save Selar, but not here; not now. Beverly's eyebrows did flinch a bit as R'annec hefted the unconscious Vulcan to her shoulder and started for the door. "Come on," R'annec hissed, waving a phaser at Beverly. She just sat there. What now? What trick can they play on us now? R'annec moved back into the cell and nudged Beverly with her foot. "Come on, we've got to get out of here." R'annec sounded urgent, but the Romulans were masters of deceit. They had tricked her before. Beverly sat still and quiet. But this one did help Selar earlier... She looked up at the Romulan, as if seeing her for the first time. Her eyes opened wide and she pointed at the door to the cell, questioningly. R'annec nodded her head and waved the phaser at the door. Beverly got up and followed her. In the outer room of the detention block lay four motionless guards. R'annec and Bev stepped over them and started down the hall. When Beverly looked to be strong enough to take it, R'annec let Selar down off her shoulder and the Romulan and the Human carried Selar between them. They rounded a corner that showed signs of blast damage. They stumbled into Engineering, carrying the Vulcan between them and R'annec raised the phaser and stunned three surprised engineers in quick succession. R'annec and Bev moved over to an engineering console and laid Selar down. R'annec stood up, flipped a switch on the phaser, and blasted two pieces of shielding equipment into molten components. The lights dimmed and klaxons began sounding. The doctor and the engineer started back out the door with Selar hanging between them, but were brought up short by several guards running toward engineering. They ducked back inside the door and R'annec tossed Beverly the phaser as she pulled another out of her jacket. Beverly looked at the weapon as if she didn't know what to do with it. Several phaser beams blasted into the side of the door. * * * * * "Captain, another explosion on board the Retribution." Data's yellow eyes darted over the read-outs in front of him. "More severe than the previous explosion. Their shield generators appear to be completely destroyed." "What is our range to the Retribution, Mr. Data?" "Two-hundred, seventy thousand kilometers, sir." "Helm, bring us into transporter range." Picard tapped his communicator badge. "Mr. O'Brien, I want the doctors out of there as soon as we get in range we will cycle the shields long enough for you to operate the transporter." As the Enterprise moved forward, the other Romulan ships moved into an attack formation and waited. The T'karin and the other Vulcan Defense ships moved along side the Enterprise as it made it's way toward the four Warbirds. Picard's temples throbbed as he watched the escalating conditions on the main viewer. "We are receiving a hail from the Retribution. They are warning us off." Worf spat the word 'warning' out as if it were an insect that had flown into his mouth. Picard's grip on his armrest tightened. In a few moments, the Enterprise slowed to a stop, fifteen thousand kilometers from the cluster of Warbirds. The Vulcan ships interposed themselves between the Enterprise and the Romulans so that the larger ship could lower its shields in order to transport the doctors aboard. The tension mounted over the seconds as they waited to hear from the transporter chief. The report finally came over the communicator. "I've got them, captain, both doctors and the Romulan engineer. Sickbay, we have a medical emergency in transporter room three. Picard, Riker, and Troi all started toward the turbolift, but Worf stopped them. "The Retribution is hailing us again, captain." "On screen." Picard looked up into the face of the Romulan captain. It was not Falkl'or's wild eyes, but the typical, collected expression of the new captain of the Retribution. He sat tall in the command chair, accompanied by the new second-in-command who also had the calm Romulan facade that Picard was so familiar with. The new captain spoke. "This is Trantoik, Captain of the Retribution. You, Picard, have been allowed to recover your doctors; that incident was Falkl'or's folly and he is now dead." He paused to allow the blunt sentence to impact. "You also, however, transported the traitor, R'annec aboard your ship. You will return her immediately." His eyes narrowed. * * * * * In sickbay, several blue-smocked medics worked quickly to stabilize Selar. Dr. Crusher tried to help, but was quickly ruled unfit for duty by the acting CMO and was placed on a biobed with medics of her own to tend to her. Beverly continued calling out instructions to Selar's doctors until the doctors had her sedated. Working with miracle drugs, and state-of-the-art medical equipment, the medics reduced the swelling of Beverly's nose and eyes. The fracture attenuators began their repair of her broken nose, jaw, and cheek bones, and in a few minutes she opened her eyes and looked up into the concerned face of the captain. She smiled as best she could and started to speak. "Jean-Luc, I knew you'd..." The captain placed his index finger over his lips and shushed her. The medic pressed the hypo against her neck again, and she drifted back to unconsciousness with a smile on her lips. Picard turned toward the Vulcan lying on the next table. The doctors had cut her ruined uniform off of her and a blue sheet was draped over her. The machines were keeping her vital statistics relatively stable, but a doctor hovered over her anyway, watching and waiting. "Doctor, how is Selar's condition?" Picard motioned toward the Vulcan. "Well, she's unconscious and we don't really know if we want to wake her up or not. She seems to be in a self-induced stasis which seems to be barely keeping her alive - with some help from the biobed." The young doctor brushed back his hair with his hand and shrugged. "Nobody really knows much about Vulcan physiology - nobody but the Vulcans themselves, that is. A doctor from the Savant-Child is transporting over here to take a look, but I wouldn't think she could last too long in this condition; a few hours at most." * * * * * R'annec stood at the edge of the empty observation lounge with her hands behind her back. She was looking out at the Romulan Warbird called Retribution. No longer her ship - no longer her people. She could never see her world again; never walk under the light of Romulus and Romii again. She would miss the firefalls. Oh well, she thought. It is the path I've chosen. R'annec turned around as the doors of the observation deck whooshed open and Picard stepped between the two impassive security guards. Picard seemed, to R'annec, to be a thoughtful, calculating man. The kind of man that would have made a good Romulan captain. She thought back to Falkl'or. At first, she had blamed his incompetence on Selar's condition, but she now knew better. The captain had long shown signs of his failing control that she could now see with perfect clarity of hindsight. It was good, she thought, that all Romulans do not have that potential for loss of control. Then she remembered Falkl'or's scream as she pulled the trigger. Perhaps we all do have that potential. She shook her head slightly to clear the thought, then turned her attention to Picard. He looked like he was tired, but R'annec couldn't be sure; all humans looked that way to her. He moved across the room and stood a prudent distance from her, collecting his thoughts to speak. She spoke first. "How are the doctors doing? Will Selar survive the trip to Vulcan?" Picard leaned against the table and waved his right hand as he spoke. He looked not unlike a Shakespearean actor. "Dr. Crusher is recovering. Dr. Selar is, however another matter. It seems that we are unable to leave here." Her right eyebrow shot up in that seemingly universal gesture of surprised curiosity. "Is the Enterprise damaged that badly? Perhaps I could assist your Engineers in their repairs." It was Picard's turn to be astounded. A Romulan offering in seemingly good faith to actually assist a Federation ship. "No, Engineer R'annec, our engineers have the repairs almost completed. We shall have warp capability fully restored soon." He paused and motioned toward the Warbird hanging in space. "The problem is that the new captain of the Retribution is not willing to allow us to leave here unless we return you to them - and you obviously do not wish to return to the Retribution to face charges of treason." "Absolutely not. But what about Selar? Can you not send her back aboard one of the Vulcan ships. They would be better suited to deal with her condition anyway." "No, If we were to send a single ship away with her, the balance of power here would be shifted back into the hands of your people. Another battle would endanger not only the lives of my crew, but those of the Vulcan crews. Our ships must leave here together to afford us a measure of safety. However, if we move to leave, it could precipitate combat." The Romulan turned back to look out at the Retribution. Fitting name for a Romulan ship, she thought. Unfortunately, their retribution is focussed on Selar through me. Selar doesn't deserve this retribution. Her only mistake was to be born into a cruel cycle of nature. Damn. "I can return to Retribution." She hesitantly continued, still gazing out the window. She didn't see Picard frown. In attempting to lighten his responsibility she was placing him in another moral quandary. He could not allow her to return to the Romulans; that would violate every moral fiber of his being. She had helped them save the doctors - Beverly at least, and she would have him forfeit her life. "No. You have asked for amnesty and we will provide you that. You have done a tremendous amount for us. You certainly do not have to sacrifice your life for us any more." * * * * * Trantoik sat in the command chair, almost feeling the authority rising from it into him like a tangible force. He gripped the armrest of the chair and surveyed his new domain. Retribution was his. "My lord, Enterprise is hailing us." "Place Picard on the viewer." He straightened his back and donned the impassive, Romulan visage. The bald human captain appeared on the viewer, flanked by his minions - the sub-commander and the consort. Nobody spoke for an instant while the captains scrutinized each other for a moment. "Picard, you have called to inform us that you are returning the traitor to us." Trantoik lead. "No, I have not, Trantoik." Picard and his sub-commander shifted slightly on their feet. The consort remained motionless, her disturbing eyes locked on Trantoik's face. "Engineer R'annec has asked to be granted political asylum. She shall not be returning to you." The Romulan captain's eyes narrowed. He spoke calmly. "You would have your ship destroyed over a Romulan traitor? Over a woman?" "I would take that risk for the engineer, yes. She is a part of the Federation now, and is afforded the full protection of Starfleet - not to mention our allies, the Klingon Empire." "Then she will die today along with her new found, tragically patriotic, Federation allies." The communication channel was closed and the four warbirds began firing up their disruptors. Trantoik spun his chair to face the helm and weapons stations. "Attack sequence five-A. Signal the other Warbirds; I want every one of those ships destroyed." As the Romulan ships moved into their positions for the attack, Trantoik watched the Enterprise and the Vulcan ships shift apart and begin priming their weapons. Trantoik raised his fist and was about to call for the attack to begin, when the weapons officer called out. "Lord, we're reading massive neutrino emissions in this sector. That could possibly mean..." His voice caught in his throat and he looked up at the view screen. Trantoik's jaw dropped when he saw what was unfolding on the main viewer. As he watched, five Klingon Birds of Prey shimmered into existence above the Enterprise. The Klingon ships sat in space, almost straining, it seemed, to be loosed upon the four Romulan ships. Trantoik sat calculating for a moment, his fist clinched, then turned to the communications officer. "Signal the other Warbirds; we're returning to Romulus." * * * * * Riker flashed his famous grin at Worf. "It works every time, Mr. Worf. The Academy is going to have to start calling that the 'Worf Gambit.'" The Klingon shifted his weight from one foot to the other, still not completely convinced at the honor involved in the ploy. "We could have won the battle, Commander." Worf was grinding his teeth. "We did not need to resort to illusionary Birds of Prey." "Mr. Worf, you're just a bit upset at having to work with a Romulan to pull off the bluff?" The Klingon looked at Riker, then at the captain, who was watching the exchange with piqued curiosity. He considered informing the commander that Klingons do not bluff, but squelched the idea. "No sir. I am not." He turned from the commander and stared intently at the main viewer, effectively dismissing the Riker. Picard turned and sat down in his chair, suppressing a grin. "Helm, plot a course to Vulcan, warp factor eight-point-zero." He waited as the helm console beeped and whistled. The helmsman nodded and Picard lifted his index finger. "Engage." * * * * * Staoq stood in front of a shifting panel of color and light. To humans the shifting colors appeared random, but Vulcans could see the pattern. This piece of artwork was part of a recurring Vulcan motif, non-linear dynamics; changes which at first glance, seemed random, but further mathematical observation revealed their underlying logic. Staoq watched the shifting light, seeing some of the more simple patterns, but reaching, grasping, almost comprehending the nature of a hidden, more complex order to the art. Brilliant, he thought. Vulcan art augmented their concept of logic. The ancient Vulcan's mind turned to his son. Soon, he would experience Pon Far again. He would, this time, be bonded to Selar. If Enterprise would get here soon. If not, Styhk would die. The doctors could not keep him alive much longer. Enterprise was due at Vulcan any minute now, and Staoq awaited them with logically stifled anticipation. Staoq turned as the communication panel chirped. It was Picard. Enterprise had achieved orbit around Vulcan. Staoq nodded his consent for them to transport down, and turned as the communication channel closed and the transporter effect began. Selar was on a maglev, a blue sheet draped over her. Two medics and Commander Riker were with her. As they materialized, a Vulcan doctor appeared out of the other room and took the maglev and Selar back into the room. When the Enterprise medics tried to follow, they were turned aside by the Vulcan doctors. Soon, the Vulcan doctors came back into the outer room pushing the empty maglev with the blue sheet carefully folded and lying precisely in the middle of the floating platform. Riker turned to Staoq. "Will they be all right in there? I mean - in their condition... Will they be able to..." Staoq raised an eyebrow and stared silently at Riker. "Uh, I guess so... I'll -uh- just be out here." The embarrassed commander fled from the small abode to wait outside. The medics followed him outside and beamed back up to the Enterprise, leaving the commander to walk about on the cliffs of Vulcan. As he made his way down the steep path to the cliffs, he was overcome by the stark beauty of the scene. It was not actually beautiful by normal earth standards, merely rock and sand, but to Riker the panorama spoke of unharnessed power. The wind blasting the sand out into the void, the sand drifting to the plain below, the sun's searing heat, all combined to a collage of austere, beautiful, unharnessed power. He stood transfixed until he heard someone behind him. Turning away from the cliffs, he saw the Romulan, R'annec. She was dressed in a dark, canvas-like, hooded cloak that was fashionable in this area of Vulcan. She stood with the hood pulled close over her head. The wind whipped the edges of her cloak around and between her legs. She raised her head and Riker saw her delicate features as if for the first time. He was surprised that a Romulan woman could be so profoundly desirable. It must be the setting, he thought, shaking his head and squinting against a blast of wind-blown sand. "Do you have permission to be down here, on Vulcan?" He snapped back into Commander-Riker-mode. She nodded. "Your captain contacted the Vulcan government and secured me permission to be here as long as I am accompanied by a starfleet officer." "Are you accompanied by an officer now?" "Aren't I?" She looked askant at Riker, a thin smile on her lips. He grinned back at her. "So you are." R'annec seemed like she could be an interesting one, Riker thought. He moved toward her slowly, but she turned away and looked out over the cliffs. "Striking, isn't it?" She didn't look at him when she spoke, but continued looking out at the setting sun. "Very much so," said Riker, referring not to the scenery, but to her figure silhouetted against the red light of the Vulcan sun. He shook his head again and moved up beside her, his hands behind his back. "You worked well with Mr. Worf. You really came through for us back there. Thanks." "Let me assure you it was certainly not a pleasure working with Mr. Worf." She cocked an eye at him, annoyed at the memory of having to cooperate with the Klingon to break into the Romulan sensor network in order to program the illusion of the Birds of Prey into their computers. "Yeah, well uh..." Riker's voice faded off and he looked back out into the sunset. There were several minutes of silence as neither looked at the other and both looked at the sunset. The Romulan broke the silence. "I never dreamed to be on this planet in person. I never dreamed it possible." Riker turned and looked at her. It was impossible to tell her emotions with the hood pulled over her features. Perhaps, he thought, that was why the Vulcans liked hoods so much. Riker said nothing, and in a few moments R'annec continued. "The visual effect of the sunlight on the falling metallic sand is not unlike that of the firefalls of..." Her voice became so soft Riker couldn't hear it over the wind. Riker did not know what to do. The Romulan was clearly distressed, but how would she react if he... He shrugged and moved closer. Placing his right arm around her shoulders, he stood looking at the sunlight. She didn't seem to mind the contact, and in a little while, hooked her left arm under his and around his waist. They stood like that as the sun set. In a few moments, as the wind began dying sown, they heard the tinkling sound of the transporter. They jerked their arms from around each other and turned to see Dr. Beverly Crusher materializing. She formed facing away from the couple, and by the time she turned to face them, they had stepped a discreet distance away from each other. "Dr. Crusher, why aren't you still in bed?" Riker called out to her. She looked annoyed and moved closed. "Why wasn't I informed when we arrived at Vulcan?" Her voice sounded very nasal and she talked without moving her mouth much. Her bruised eyes, however, were almost completely healed. "Because we knew you'd drag yourself out of your bed and come down here to see about Selar. You really should be resting right now." "And why shouldn't I come to check on Selar? I am the Enterprise's Chief Medical Officer." Riker knew it was futile trying to get her to rest when she had her mind set on a patient. "So how is Selar, Will?" "I don't know. We haven't seen her since we left her with the Vulcan doctors and Styhk." Crusher nodded and the three of them stood on the edge of the cliff for a few minutes, watching the last traces of sunlight fade over the distant horizon and awaiting news of Selar's condition. Again, they were disturbed by the whine of transporter beams. This time it was Picard and Deanna. As they came into being on the edge of the cliff, Riker called out. "Seems to be a popular spot. A regular outing for us." He grinned and chuckled at his own joke as the two newcomers joined the group. "Beverly, why are you out of bed? You should be resting and recuperating." Picard addressed the fiery-haired doctor. She was beginning to tire of the repeated question, and shot an index finger up at her captain, the other hand coming to rest on her hip. "I'm here because I'm the CMO and one of my staff doctors is down here in a medical emergency. Just what are you doing here?" "I came to see Selar's condition, just as you did." Picard was ready to let the point drop, but Deanna laughed. "Well, that's not quite the whole story. I thought that our captain needed some fresh air," she paused and gestured to their surroundings. "and I suggested taking a walk here on Vulcan. I'd heard the Vulcan sunset was beautiful." "Suggested? Humph!" Picard snorted in mock protest. "Practically threatened to have me ruled unfit for duty if I didn't." The group shared a laugh, except for R'annec, who looked confused. She turned to Picard. "I am curious - if it's not too personal a question," she paused, collecting her words. "Why is it that you make your relationship with your consort so open to your crewmembers?" R'annec gestured toward the Counselor as she spoke. Troi blushed slightly and Picard's mouth hung open for a moment. Riker grinned and Beverly slapped a hand over her mouth, turning away to keep from laughing openly. R'annec looked even more confused. Picard finally got his mouth shut and straightened his back. He brushed his hands down the front of his green sweater and gestured to the Counselor. "Counselor Troi is certainly not my consort. She is a highly valued member of my medical staff and performs her duties for the entire crew." R'annec's mouth dropped open in surprise as Riker snickered and Troi blushed a deeper shade of red at the connotation the captain's explanation carried. "What I mean is," he paused and shifted his weight. "Counselor Troi administers to the needs of my crew." He realized that wasn't exactly phrased correctly either. "Psychologically, that is." R'annec's mouth snapped shut and she nodded, not wanting to hear any more about human sexuality right now. The whole group stood in awkward silence for a few minutes, some staring at the stars, some staring out over the cliffs. In a few moments, they heard a shuffling and turned to see Selar and a tall, young Vulcan man, presumably Styhk, making their way slowly down the slope from the dwelling to the cliffs. They were dressed in long, coarse robes, similar in design to R'annec's cloak. Beverly called out to them as they approached. "Selar, are you alright?" Selar and Styhk came closer and in the half light, Beverly thought Selar may be smiling, but as they drew into the group, the smile was replaced by calm, Vulcan features. "Styhk and I are fine, doctor. We are not yet..." She paused and struggled to chase off another grin. "...fully recovered, but our conditions are improving." Selar and Styhk looked at each other, and seemed about to smile again. "It was a close one, Dr. Selar. We didn't know for a while there if you'd make it." He grinned enough for Selar and Styhk both. The Vulcan woman ignored the comment in typical Vulcan fashion, but did pick up the way Riker addressed her. "My name is no longer Selar. Bonded women on Vulcan have a prefix attached to their name at the time of bonding. I am now known as T'Selar, wife of Styhk of Vulcan." This time smiles did flicker on the faces of the Vulcans, to be quickly replaced with more appropriate expressions. All the humans made approving noises, polite laughs, congratulations, and gentle hand claps. Picard tried to pronounce the new name, but didn't get the inflection correct. T'Selar corrected him and all the humans tried it again. I came out in several mutilated forms, none closely approximating the first sound of the new Vulcan name. T'Selar began to correct them again, mild annoyance creeping into her voice. "T'Selar," the hooded Romulan offered the correct pronunciation. Selar looked up, surprised at a visitor picking the sound up so soon. Everyone's attention focussed on R'annec as T'Selar realized who it was under the hood. R'annec pulled back the hood and smiled faintly at T'Selar. "You!" the Vulcan woman shouted, clinching her fists and stepping forward. "How dare you set foot on this world, you degenerate bitch!" Everybody in the group was shocked at T'Selar's sudden outburst. The group was still in shock when T'Selar leapt through the air and tackled R'annec. The two women rolled about on the ground, R'annec brushing aside the doctor's clumsy attacks. R'annec still had not fought back when Styhk reached the struggle and pulled his wife off the Romulan. He stepped back and held onto her shoulders, a disapproving look on his face, as R'annec got up off the ground. "You bitch! How dare you come here after all that you dogs have done to my people. After what you did to me." She struggled against Styhk's iron- tight grip. "You're right," R'annec said softly, brushing the sand from her cloak. "I shouldn't have come here. My people..." Her voice caught in her throat at the thought of the atrocities her people had committed in the past. She wanted to make an excuse, but there were none. She turned and quickly walked away along the edge of the cliff. She was soon out of sight around a boulder. Troi looked at Picard. He nodded and the counselor rushed after the Romulan woman. * * * * * R'annec was sitting on a rock weeping when Troi found her. Deanna sat on a nearby rock until R'annec looked up. Troi smiled a calming smile and waited for the crying to subside. "You really are a psychiatric medic - not the captain's consort?" R'annec asked, sniffing. Deanna nodded. "My services are completely non-sexual in nature." "Well, Counselor, I would seem to need counselling right now. I wanted to apologize for my people, but I couldn't. Our behavior is outrageous. Inexcusable." She looked down at the ground and began absently picking a bramble out of her cloak. "You, as an individual, do not have to answer for the actions of your race or forbearers." Deanna paused, thinking back to the time that The Q had placed Picard and the bridge crew on trial for the 'heinous' crimes of humanity. "Not as a Federation citizen." "But as a Romulan, I do. I am guilty of our crimes by association." "You do not have to carry that guilt. It is simply prejudice against yourself and your own race." "Prejudice is the forte of my people," said R'annec. Her face twisted into a sarcastic grin. "Our children are raised to believe that they are superior in every way to all other races. We are raised to be capable of committing the most vile atrocities imaginable. Truly, Counselor Troi, you cannot imagine the extent of the evil in our society." "You are obviously not all bad. I have had the pleasure of meeting a few Romulans who were not at all evil. You included." When R'annec sneered, at this, Troi continued. "Really I don't our people have much separating them except for an unwillingness to communicate. Perhaps one day the Federation and Romulans will smooth out their political differences." They sat together, mostly not talking, for several minutes. There was nothing Troi could do to magically take R'annec's pain away, but the Romulan didn't mind the company. After a few minutes, T'Selar walked up, her face a model of impassivity. R'annec rose, wary of another attack. T'Selar stood with her hands behind her back, rocking back and forth on her toes. "My actions earlier were based on incomplete facts and emotional biases. Dr. Crusher and Captain Picard have informed me of the extent of your helpfulness and I am - logically - inclined toward gratitude. I apologize." R'annec's eyes were wide by the end of T'Selar's monologue. The Vulcan was intellectually prostrating herself to the Romulan. Inconceivable. Her eyes narrowed. "You are not truly sorry for your words, T'Selar. You cannot be. After all the things my people have done to yours, an emotional being would incapable of forgiveness. Expecting forgiveness from a logical being would be even more absurd." Selar stood there for a few seconds, contemplating the Romulan's astute and brutally honest observation. She approved of those qualities. "You are correct," she said flatly. "I would not have not come to forgive you on my on." She inclined her head slightly toward the section of the cliffs where Picard and Beverly were standing, subtly implying coercion. "Right now, due to my continuing hormonal imbalance, I am an emotional being; I do not forgive your people. But in time I shall again be a passionless being and at such time it would be," she paused to stress the next thought. "...illogical to not forgive you." R'annec considered the convoluted Vulcan logic then smiled, deciding to let it drop. This was likely to be as close as they would ever come to being able to resolve their differences, but R'annec was willing to wait and to accept the attempt. "In time, then - T'Selar, wife of Styhk of Vulcan." T'Selar smiled then caught herself and wiped the grin off her face. She then turned and walked away, the corners of her mouth twitching and the corners of her eyes wrinkling. R'annec and Troi sat for a long time that night, talking seldom, comfortable merely with each other's presence. * * * * * Two figures stood on the edge of the cliff, the wind buffeting them from behind. Their voluminous cloaks were wrapped around them but their hoods were laid back, allowing the wind to blow through their hair. The two stood there watching the rising sun reflect off the coppery sand as it was blown off the top of the cliff by the morning breeze. They turned slowly, surveying their surroundings. As they turned toward the searing sun, its red rays tinged their faces with an earthy-grey tone. She lifted her face and watched the sunrise, her nictitating membranes slowly turning her dark eyes a milky color. He stood with his head bowed, the wind whipping his hair into his face. As they stood facing the rising sun, he raised his head and began speaking to nobody in particular. His words were carried by the wind out over the edge of the cliff along with the coppery sand. The poetry called out to the logical part of them and they reveled in its precision and succinctity. It calmed their ravaged minds and soothed their aching bodies. It was Vulcan poetry, and it was very much a part of them. Newsgroups: alt.startrek.creative Path: moe.ksu.ksu.edu!zaphod.mps.ohio-state.edu!sdd.hp.com!mips!darwin.sura.net!nntp.msstate.edu!Ra.MsState.Edu!plp1 From: plp1@Ra.MsState.Edu (pat parker) Subject: _T'Selar_ comments Message-ID: Sender: news@ra.msstate.edu Nntp-Posting-Host: ra.msstate.edu Organization: Mississippi State University Date: Sun, 12 Jul 1992 02:34:59 GMT Lines: 12 Ok, I'm finished. I have posted part five, the conclusion along with a reposting of parts 1-4 which are hopefully corrected. I look forward to your comments, criticisms, and even flames regarding _T'Selar_. I particularly want to hear if you think the storyline is cohesive all the way through, and if you think the ending is fitting, or if it is too disjoint. thanks pat