From: plp1@Ra.MsState.Edu (pat parker)
Subject: T'Selar Part 5 [of 5] (REPOST)
Organization: Mississippi State University
Date: Wed, 13 Jan 1993 03:42:17 GMT


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,rec.arts.startrek.tech