textfiles/sf/STARTREK/tselar

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From: plp1@Ra.MsState.Edu (pat parker)
Subject: CORRECTED REPOST; _T'Selar_ part 1
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Date: Sun, 12 Jul 1992 02:30:50 GMT
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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.


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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: <plp1.710908306@Ra.MsState.Edu>
Sender: news@ra.msstate.edu
Nntp-Posting-Host: ra.msstate.edu
Organization: Mississippi State University
Date: Sun, 12 Jul 1992 02:31:46 GMT
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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.
      <Selar!>  He cupped a breast in his palm.
      <No, It is I, Pentu.  I am here to help you.>  Her free hand moved
downward from his chest to his groin.
      <Pentu?  No, where is Selar?>
      <Forget Selar.  She cannot be here.>
      <No!  I must wait.>  He removed his hand from her breast.
      <Styhk, you are not logical right now.  Selar will not be here in time. 
Allow me to relieve your pain.>  She nudged his groin again.
      <NO!>  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.


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From: plp1@Ra.MsState.Edu (pat parker)
Subject: CORRECTED REPOST; _T'Selar_ part3
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Date: Sun, 12 Jul 1992 02:32:37 GMT
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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
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From: plp1@Ra.MsState.Edu (pat parker)
Subject: CORRECTED REPOST; _T'Selar_ part4
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Date: Sun, 12 Jul 1992 02:33:36 GMT
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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.


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From: plp1@Ra.MsState.Edu (pat parker)
Subject: _T'Selar_ part 5 - the conclusion
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Date: Sun, 12 Jul 1992 02:34:18 GMT
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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.


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From: plp1@Ra.MsState.Edu (pat parker)
Subject: _T'Selar_ comments
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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