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 |                           There Ain't No Justice                          |
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 |                                    #128                                   |
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                                - HALF-BREEDS -
                          by Arifel and Ace Lightning


Captain Jean-Luc Picard stood beside the console in Transporter Room Three,
ready to welcome the newest addition to the crew of the Enterprise. Since
the new officer was to be assigned to the science division, Acting Science
Officer Arifel was present also. So conscientious was he about his position
that he himself, rather than a mere transporter technician, handled the
transporter controls. With the familiar hollow hum, the sparkling beam
slowly solidified into the form of a humanoid female in standard Starfleet
coveralls, trimmed in Sciences blue. As Captain Picard stepped forward to
greet her, she drew herself up in a formal posture and said, "Lieutenant
Sekhnar Zeyx reporting as ordered, sir!"

"I'm Captain Jean-Luc Picard. Welcome aboard the Enterprise, Lieutenant.
This is Lieutenant Arifel, our Acting Science Officer; he'll be your
commanding officer. We're glad to have you aboard."

Both men stared at the new arrival -- Picard in a way that was less obvious
than the blunt Klingon, who did nothing to disguise his fascination with
the new arrival. Her appearance was somewhat puzzling; she had the slender
build, upswept eyebrows, and pointed ears of a Romulan or Vulcan, with
light olive skin, and her luxuriantly wavy hair was dark honey-blonde with
greenish highlights. She might have been one of the relatively rare "blonde
Vulcans", but her features lacked some of the harsh angularity usually
associated with Vulcans, and her slimness was softened by voluptuous
curves. It was difficult to judge her age. As Picard eyed the exotic yet
attractive woman, he was glad that Commander Riker was busy on the bridge.

She needed no telepathy to sense that she was the object of great
curiosity. "My father is Betazoid, and my mother is Vulcan," she explained.
"They met when they were both graduate students at the Vulcan Science
Academy. My father was one of the first to do extensive research into the
applicability of Vulcan mental disciplines to the Betazoid empathic and
telepathic senses. My mother was studying the similarities between Vulcan
telepathy and the equivalent talents in other races. It seemed ...logical
for them to work together. My mother had not been bonded in her childhood;
only the very oldest families practice that ancient custom any more. When
it became apparent that they were more than just academic colleagues, they
bonded as adults, in the full Vulcan telepathic ritual. In a way, I was
conceived as part of their research, and I have most of the abilities of
both races."

"I spent my early childhood on Betazed, of course; I needed to learn how to
both accept and control my emotional and empathic abilities before I could
acquire Vulcan disciplines. I was in a unique position to combine Vulcan
and Betazoid techniques, and my experiences as I matured were studied in
great detail by my parents and many other researchers from both planets. To
quote a famous half-Vulcan former Starfleet officer, it was 'fascinating'."
She smiled faintly. "My mixed heritage has proven to be an unexpected
benefit to Starfleet. Somehow my combination of talents includes the
ability to 'read' almost all humanoid races -- including Ferengi and
Klingon." She glanced meaningfully at Arifel. "A fairly high percentage of
people of mixed ancestry join Starfleet, when we realize that we never
truly fit in on either parent's planet."

"You are correct in your observation that I am also of mixed ancestry,
Lieutenant. My father is human," said Arifel. His voice was surprisingly
gentle, unlike the powerful bass growl of most male Klingons.

"I'm curious about something, Lieutenant. 'Arifel' doesn't seem to be a
name in any human language, but it doesn't quite sound Klingon either."

"Actually, it's Qar'Ivel, but no-one can ever pronounce that to my liking.
Come with me. I will show you to your quarters; after you have rested, we
can familiarize you with our science division." The doors hissed open, and
they headed toward the turbolift.  Captain Picard took another turbolift to
the bridge, pondering the "infinite diversity in infinite combinations" by
which two officers could represent four separate planetary races.

On the way to deck twenty-three, Arifel maintained a typically Klingon
taciturn silence; if Lieutenant Zeyx wanted to chat, she would have to
start the conversation. He sensed that she wanted to talk, to get to know
him, but was waiting for him to speak. He felt that he had to resist the
temptation to make a joke, under the misapprehension that her Vulcan
upbringing would have left her unaccustomed to humor. Trying to decide
whether or not to speak first was replaced by trying to decide if Betazed
playfulness would win out over Vulcan serenity; he suspected that jokes at
the expense of the Romulans -- of which he had amassed a sizable collection
-- might be in poor taste, given the Vulcan relationship to the Romulan
people.

He had almost decided on trying the old line, `How many Borg does it take
to change an isolinear chip?' -- and had decided that her most likely
response would be `Is this related to an upcoming mission?' -- when they
arrived at her quarters.

A brief exchange with the computer gave her access; she was familiar with
the room's fittings, so Arifel prepared to leave her to her rest.  Just
before the door closed, she called out: "Lieutenant Arifel?"

"Yes, Lieutenant?"

She gave him a warm smile. "`How many Borg does it take to change an
Isolinear chip?' All of them." The door closed.

Arifel stood there for a moment, staring at the back of her door, more
surprised at the sudden smile than at her casual show of telepathy. Then he
smiled also, a slowly spreading feral Klingon grin; turned and went back to
the bridge.

          * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

Arifel soon found that Lieutenant Zeyx was an outstanding science officer;
not surprising, since she had studied (and *been* studied) at the Vulcan
Science Academy before joining Starfleet. Soon they were working together
as equals, rather than as superior and subordinate officers. As they worked
beside each other, they found themselves becoming friends as well.

Both of them knew the hardships of being the offspring of two planets.
Arifel had been raised on the Klingon Homeworld, and taught the traditional
way of the warrior, but his obvious half-human appearance had made him the
butt of extreme cruelty at times, both from his peers and from some of his
teachers. Typically, he resorted to rigorous, stoic Klingon behavior,
especially when his human emotions threatened to destroy his facade.

On the other hand, Zeyx' Betazoid childhood had given her interpersonal
skills that made her very easy to talk to. She could be relaxed and almost
hedonistic at times, then switch to a display of extreme Vulcan control
when necessary. She was easily the most intelligent person Arifel had ever
met. However, her mix of Vulcan and Betazoid qualities -- especially in her
appearance -- reminded Arifel painfully of his former lover, the half-
Romulan, half-Betazoid Lieutenant Commander Amber. Sekhnar could easily
sense that Arifel's bittersweet memories of Amber were clouding his
friendship for her.

The relationship between Arifel and Amber had been intense from the start.
As it grew even more intense, their sexual games on the holodeck had grown
steadily more esoteric, with each one striving to force the other past all
mental, emotional, and physical limits. With Arifel's ability to override
the safety programming, they actually managed to injure each other more
than once. (Explaining these injuries to Dr. Crusher had been awkward.)
They had begun to involve others in their games, and the relationship might
have become unstable..... but Amber was suddenly transferred off the
Enterprise. The reasons were never made clear, but they seemed to involve
some sort of secret operation within the Romulan Empire. Arifel was
devastated by the sudden loss; Counselor Troi did her best to soothe his
grief, but Amber's memory still left a dull ache in his thoughts several
months later, when Zeyx joined the crew.

Zeyx knew all this, of course, by virtue of her telepathic and empathic
abilities. As their friendship deepened, she encouraged him to talk to her
about Amber. "I'm *not* her. I may look a little like her, because of the
mixture of Betazoid and Vulcan features, but my background is completely
different. What I don't understand is why your games so often involved
emotional pain. Empaths usually go out of their way to avoid or relieve
pain."

"She actually seemed to *enjoy* those painful feelings. Sometimes, when we
included others in our ...games..., she would feed some of their feelings
back to me with her telepathy. I must admit that, when she did that, I
enjoyed it nearly as much as she did. Now, though, it seems somewhat
dishonorable. After she left the ship, I did eventually talk to Acroyear,
and I *think* he accepted my apology. But I suspect that our scenarios also
had something to do with Strepsil's sudden decision to leave Starfleet. He
was a promising young officer; it troubles me to think that my actions
might have driven him away."

"I can understand using *physical* pain - I know that Klingon physiology
requires some level of violence by the female to trigger sexual responses
in the male. But I don't enjoy mental or emotional pain at all; I'm not
like her in that respect. Although I do derive a certain amount of pleasure
from giving *pleasure* to others; I suppose she could have been using the
same sort of emotional feedback mechanism for a different purpose... "

Just after Amber left, after his first few sessions with Counselor Troi,
Arifel had felt the need to work off his tension on the holodeck;
discussing his recent past with her cleared up his surface emotions but
didn't touch the pain deep inside. Instead of using the standard hand-to-
hand combat simulations, he usually spent a few hours sitting on a bridge
near a quiet falls, performing the _SeHboghruQ_, or Progression-Through-
Manual-Control meditation. He had continued this practice, whenever
possible, long after Counselor Troi had discontinued their therapy
sessions.

Following his most recent conversation with Sekhnar, however, he found it
hard to focus on the visualizations. When he should have been concentrating
on the stylized gestures and stances, his mind kept wandering back to what
she'd said about Amber. She'd touched on something that Counselor Troi had
either been too tactful to bring up, or not perceptive enough to see: the
relationship hadn't been destined to last. It had taken a particular
combination of Betazed empathy and the Vulcan no-nonsense logic to make him
see it.

He opened his eyes, saw the pale sunlight making spectral rings through the
falls' mist, and felt better within himself than he had for a long time. He
stood, took a deep breath of cool air and felt ready to tackle anything the
universe could throw at him.

          * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

Sekhnar had not slept well. The meditative and self-hypnotic techniques of
two worlds had eventually put her into a fitful doze, from which she
awakened again and again. Red-tinged shards of dreams pursued her into
waking consciousness -- dreams of fire, dreams of brutal animal sexuality,
dreams of unspeakable bloody violence. When the computer chimed her wake-up
call for her normal duty shift, she snapped irritably, "Shut that damned
thing off! I'm awake!"

She felt hot and sweaty; maybe a shower would refresh her. She stood in the
spray and lowered the temperature setting several notches, but she still
felt uncomfortably warm. She scanned herself with her personal tricorder;
her body temperature was slightly elevated, but there were no indications
of disease. Perhaps, she thought, I'm accidentally picking up physical
sensations from a crew member who is ill. Still, when she put on her
uniform jumpsuit, it felt unusually tight and restrictive. She squirmed a
bit, trying to put the unpleasant sensation out of her mind, and ordered
breakfast from the replicator. But she found she had no appetite for her
usual nourishing vegetarian breakfast. Instead, she downed two cups of
ferociously bitter Vulcan tea; its mildly stimulating properties seemed to
steady her mind somewhat, and she proceeded to her usual post in the
science department.

For several days they had been running an analysis of the very faint
magnetic fields found outside of star systems. Zeyx sat at one of the
science stations, correlating data and making notations on a padd. Arifel
was at an adjacent station, monitoring the raw data that came from the
ship's sensors. And operating the sensors was the most junior member of the
science division, Ensign Travels-The-Sky Redshirt. He was from Earth, and
his straight black hair, bronzed complexion, and angular cheekbones
proclaimed him a full-blooded Native American. He was very adept in his
handling of the more technical aspects of his job, and both Arifel and Zeyx
thought he would have made just as good an engineer as a science officer;
but his uniform was trimmed with Sciences blue, not Engineering red.

Today Sekhnar could not focus on the data as it streamed across her screen.
Her fingers stumbled as she attempted to add entries to her padd. "Sky,
could you route that last batch to me again? I missed some of it. I guess
I've been a little stressed out lately." Arifel looked at her with concern;
she was his best science officer, his co-equal, and also his friend, and
for her to admit any mental weakness was highly unusual. The young ensign
calmly sent the data to her terminal again, scrolling it past her more
slowly than before. She forced her mind back to the symbols on the screen
and painstakingly checked her padd entries.

Soon it was lunchtime. Arifel and Sekhnar had long since gotten into the
habit of eating lunch together whenever possible, and today they went to
the dining area together. Sekhnar started to order her usual salad for
lunch, then remembered her experience in the morning and stopped. She tried
to determine her body's needs, but every dish she could think of had
completely lost its appeal. She felt a tension headache, worsened by
hunger, developing in her neck and shoulders. She ordered toast with jam
and a Betazoid fruit-juice drink, more to keep her energy reserves up than
because she really wanted to eat. Arifel noted this departure from her
normal diet.

"Are you well, Sekhnar? You seemed distracted this morning, and now you're
not eating your usual lunch."

"I didn't sleep well last night, and I'm getting a headache. I think I was
having nightmares. Possibly someone on the ship is ill or frightened, and
my telepathic senses are picking it up. I'll be okay."

"You will not mind if I eat something more substantial than toast, then?"

"You always do. Go ahead."

The half-Klingon officer ordered a large Todbagh haunch, medium rare. (Of
course, it wasn't "real" meat, but the replicator did a decent job of
duplicating the taste and texture.) Sekhnar's years on Vulcan had gotten
her into the habit of eating a vegetarian diet, and normally she was
faintly disgusted by Arifel's carnivorous habits. But today, to her own
horror, the sight and smell of the barely-cooked meat stimulated appetites
she hadn't known she still possessed. She imagined herself tearing a chunk
off with her hands, biting and chewing it voraciously, letting the bloody
juices drip down her chin... She set down her half-finished toast and said,
"Arifel, you know how I feel about meat-eating. I'll see you back in the
lab after lunch." She almost bolted out of the dining room, privately
feeling more disgusted with herself than with Arifel. He watched her leave
-- wondering if eating traditional Klingon food in front of someone who was
feeling unwell might have been impolite -- and growing more concerned about
her aberrant behavior.  He resolved that, if Sekhnar continued to act
unlike her usual self, he would persuade her to go to sickbay for a
thorough examination.

After lunch, they all resumed their somewhat tedious task. Again, Sekhnar's
concentration wandered, and she began missing information and having to ask
Ensign Redshirt to re-transmit the data. When this had happened several
more times, Arifel grew genuinely anxious about her. He came around to her
science station and leaned over her to look at the work displayed on her
screen.

Sekhnar was suddenly acutely conscious of Arifel's body leaning close to
her. She felt sweaty and hot again, and she began to tremble
uncontrollably. The sensation of his body lightly touching her back filled
her with a seething mixture of confused emotions far more intense than
friendship; she was almost unbearably aware that he was male, and
physically strong, and unmated. Her breathing grew ragged and her heartbeat
accelerated; she felt dizzy, and she was afraid she might even faint.
Arifel noticed that she was swaying in her seat, and reached to grasp her
arm in an attempt to steady her. She retained just enough presence of mind
to elude his touch without *quite* jerking away, and used all her Vulcan
training to try to calm her body's reactions. But Sky Redshirt also noticed
there was something wrong.

"Lieutenant Zeyx? Are you okay? Should I call down to sickbay?"

This was more than she could bear. "SHUT UP!" she shrieked, and threw the
padd at Ensign Redshirt with all her Vulcan strength. He ducked quickly,
and the padd missed him, but it crashed into the bulkhead and fell to the
floor, its casing cracked and its circuits nonfunctional.

"I'm sorry, Ensign. Um, excuse me..." she mumbled, and hurriedly left the
science area. In the corridor, she tapped her comm badge. "Zeyx to Troi.
Deanna, can I come talk to you right away? It's very important."

"Of course, Sekhnar. Come right down. Troi out." Zeyx hurried to Deanna's
quarters.

As the sliding door hissed shut behind the Vulcan, Counselor Troi stepped
forward and reached out a hand to welcome the younger woman. "Come in, sit
down; would you like some refreshments? Tea? Hot chocolate?"

"Vulcan tea, if you please." Troi hardly needed empathy to realize that
Sekhnar was extremely uneasy. Deanna busied herself at the replicator while
she focused her Betazoid faculties more clearly on the other woman's mind.

Sekhnar sipped at the bitter, scalding brew, hoping it would steady her the
way it had in the morning. "I have been having a great deal of trouble
keeping my mind on my work today. Disturbing thoughts and emotions keep
distracting me. I have been acting irritable, almost emotionally unstable
at times. Just now, I destroyed a data padd when I flung it across the
room, and it narrowly missed Ensign Redshirt. I tried the usual Betazoid
practice of 'giving myself permission' to experience the emotions, but this
only seemed to make them *more* difficult to control. The Vulcan technique
of _arie'mnu_, 'passion's mastery', is barely working. My emotional state
is causing physical side effects as well; I suffered from insomnia last
night, my appetite has changed drastically, and the muscles of my neck and
shoulders are painfully tense. And just before I threw the padd at Ensign
Redshirt, I felt dizzy and faint. I came to you first, before seeing Dr.
Crusher, because I believe my physical symptoms are probably
psychosomatic." She fidgeted with her teacup in a very un-Vulcan manner.

"I see. Sekhnar, I sense many strong emotions within you. Can you tell me
which one you feel is the strongest, the most dominant?"

There was a long pause, while Sekhnar stared down into her tea. Then she
lifted her head and looked Troi straight in the eyes.

"Sex. Violent sexual lust. And not even for any specific person. I feel
like an animal in rut." With a jolt, Deanna realized that the other woman
was staring at the clinging, low-cut neckline of her jumpsuit with barely
suppressed desire. They were both half-Betazoid; Sekhnar knew that Deanna
could sense her thoughts. "And, yes, Counselor, I would *love* to use my
Vulcan strength to tear that jumpsuit off you, and take your splendid
breasts in my hands, and..." She leaned closer, her eyes glittering
desperately.

"Lieutenant!" Troi used her mental and vocal exclamation like a splash of
cold water. Sekhnar slumped back, looking ashamed.

"I -- I'm sorry, Counselor. I don't know what came over me. I'm not even
attracted to women very much. Why am I becoming so obsessed with sex and
violence all of a sudden?"

"While your feelings are very strong, I can't find any *emotional* reasons
for you to be feeling this way. Maybe you've got it backwards, and your
physical symptoms aren't the result of your emotional state. Maybe your
emotional state is the result of some physical condition. I think we should
get you to Dr. Crusher immediately. Is that all right with you?"

"Perhaps you're right. I can't go on, feeling like this. I'm unfit for duty
in this state."

Troi tapped her badge. "Troi to Crusher. Beverley, I'm bringing Lieutenant
Sekhnar Zeyx down to sickbay; I want you to give her a thorough
examination."

Crusher's voice came from the air. "Sure. What's the problem?"

"I think we'd rather tell you about it in person. Troi out."

When the two women arrived in sickbay, Dr. Crusher told Zeyx to lie on one
of the diagnostic beds for a full medical scan. Meanwhile, the emotions
radiating from the patient were almost too much for Deanna. Images of
violent rape and bloody assault rose in Sekhnar's mind, hazed with red as
if viewed through a curtain of flames. As Beverley bent over her with a
hand scanner, Sekhnar imagined herself roughly ripping the doctor's
coverall open, kissing and biting her breasts, working down past her
belly... and then Deanna's image also appeared in the patient's thoughts of
violence and sex. Oblivious to this, the doctor "hmmmed" at her readings,
then called out, "Dr. Selar, I think you ought to take a look at this."

The Vulcan woman came over to the diagnostic bed and looked at the readings
for Sekhnar Zeyx. "Do you think my diagnosis is correct?" said Dr. Crusher.
"I can see no other possibilities," said Dr. Selar.

"What's wrong with her?" blurted Troi. "Beverley, her mind is filled with
the most alarming images of violence and sexuality. What's the matter with
her?"

"As far as I can determine, she seems to be going rapidly into Vulcan _pon
farr_."

"_Pon farr_? But she's only half-Vulcan! And I thought it didn't affect
females this strongly. I know that Vulcan males, when they are in this
state, have to either have sexual intercourse with a woman they can link
with telepathically, or else perform an act of violence, or the hormone
imbalances will kill them. But I thought that Vulcan women were less
affected, more in control, during the _pon farr_. That's why it's best if a
couple is telepathically linked beforehand -- the female is supposed to be
able to help the male control himself."

"I think it's the combination of Vulcan and Betazoid qualities that is
making it hit her so hard. You Betazoids are a very sensual people. Look at
what happens to women like your mother when they enter the 'phase' and
their sex drive quadruples. I suppose Lieutenant Zeyx is lucky that she's
still too young to have *that* happen to her. Can you imagine being 'in
phase' and in _pon farr_ at the same time? Poor girl!"

Dr. Selar had given Sekhnar a hypospray of some hormone-analog substances,
and Sekhnar had regained some measure of self-possession. She tried to sit
up, but Selar's strong hands urged her to stay lying down. As she touched
her, Selar picked up a thought from Sekhnar's mind... "She is desirable
also; she might even be physically stronger than I am. What I really need
is a male... but I might at least be able to assuage the worst of my lust
with one of these women..." The thought trailed off into non-verbal images
of violent sexual need. Selar broke the contact quickly.

Beverley stepped over to her desk, with its computer terminal. "I'm going
to have to compare her physiological and psionic profiles with everyone
aboard the Enterprise, in order to determine which crew members might be
compatible with her. Then I'll have to ask all the likely ones if they'd
like to be her mate, at least until this _pon farr_ cycle is finished.
That's going to be a very delicate job, and I'd like you to help me,
Deanna."

"Of course. But what if it turns out that the only possible mates for her
are all unsuitable in some way? Will she die if she can't have telepathic
sex with *someone*?"

"She won't die; we can give her hormones that will get her past the worst
of it. But she'll be psychologically traumatized by so much frustrated
desire and irrational violence. She'll need both of us to help her, whether
we find her a mate or not." Dr. Crusher's fingers had been deftly skipping
over the computer terminal, and she already had a list of possibly suitable
partners. "Some of these are very odd choices, but I can't deny that all
the parameters match. Deanna, *you're* on the list!" She entered a few more
commands. "I forgot to limit it to sorting for *males* who meet these
requirements. Biologically, it really does have to be a male."

Just then, the communicator beeped. "Arifel to sickbay. Is Lieutenant Zeyx
there? Is she all right?" The woman on the bed began to tremble again,
despite the medication she'd just been given, and the readings for
heartbeat and respiration leapt up.

"This is Dr. Crusher. Yes, she's here. She seems to have developed, um, a
biochemical imbalance, but I think we can find a solution to her problems."

"Beverley," said Deanna, "her emotional responses peaked sharply when she
heard Lieutenant Arifel's voice. Check whether he fits the profile."

"But he's half-Klingon. Vulcans and Betazoids both have trouble reading
Klingons. How could she achieve the required telepathic link?"

"She told me that somehow her combined talents made it easier for her to
read other races, even Klingons, even Ferengi. Arifel is also half-human,
and I'm living proof that humans can possess *some* telepathic potential.
He's technically her superior officer, but I happen to know that they're
also good friends. Check his parameters against hers."

"No need to check. I choose Arifel," spoke up Sekhnar from the medical bed.
She repeated, "I choose Qar'Ivel!" in the formal Old High Vulcan of ancient
ritual. Deanna blushed as the other woman's fevered mind projected graphic
images of herself and Arifel enacting a frenzied combination of Klingon and
Vulcan mating rites.

Dr. Crusher smiled wryly and spoke into the communicator in a deceptively
sweet tone: "Crusher to Arifel. Can you possibly come down to sickbay at
your earliest convenience?"

          * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

Sickbay was not a suitable place for what was about to happen, and
Sekhnar's _pon farr_ was progressing so rapidly that she had to ask Dr.
Selar for another dose of the synthetic neuropeptides to reinforce her
increasingly fragile self-control. She needed to take Arifel back to her
quarters and attempt a telepathic bond with him before she succumbed
completely to madness. Even with the drugs in her body, it took all the
mental and emotional disciplines she'd learned on two worlds to explain to
Arifel, as calmly as possible, what she would need to do to link with him.
In the turbolift, she carefully stood as far away from him as she could;
she knew that if their bodies touched, even accidentally, her control would
shatter before they ever got to her room. She was still shaking, breathing
unevenly, and her skin seemed to radiate a fever heat.

Arifel, although he tended not to admit it to himself, had more telepathic
and empathic abilities than either his human or Klingon ancestry would
account for. He sensed her steadily increasing desire, and knew how close
to uncontrollable it was; the violence of it stirred his Klingon instincts,
and he found himself growing aroused in response. He also could sense her
emotional confusion, and knew that she wished their relationship might have
become sexual in a less atavistic way; she projected a genuine affection
for him. He was surprised to find that he felt just as much affection for
her. Hesitantly, not knowing how to focus or aim his mental powers, he
tried to project this affection back at her, while consciously making an
effort to relax from his usual stand-offish Klingon body language.

They were in the private room of her quarters, where a Vulcan attunement
flame's flickering light illuminated a Betazoid meditation sculpture.
"Please just accept what I'm doing; I hope I'll be able to finish the
bonding before the drugs wear off. Just try to be as mentally receptive as
possible." He nodded, and she began.

Her fingers stroked the smooth ridges of his skull as she sought the mind-
meld contact points. As she touched him, her trembling became so violent
that she was almost unable to keep her hands in place. Arifel awkwardly
placed his hands on her temples in the same position. Her face was
unnaturally hot, and he could feel her pulse racing. He relaxed his mind as
much as he could -- the Second Dance from the _SeHboghruQ_ helped
significantly -- and tried to make her welcome in his thoughts. In a ragged
voice, she spoke the Old High Vulcan words of joining. "My mind... to your
mind... my thoughts... to your thoughts..."

Arifel felt something click into place in his mind, like two smoothly
machined parts fitting perfectly together, like a perfectly-balanced
_batlh'etlh_ settling into his grip. Sekhnar was there, in his mind, the
two of them meshing with a completeness he had never imagined possible. In
an instant, everything in her deepest soul was also in him, and all of him
was within her innermost self. He staggered and nearly fell with the
intensity of their mental union. He knew her completely; he knew the scent
of Vulcan's rare desert blossoms, the colors of the Betazed sunset, and her
secret Vulcan ritual name. He knew the true intensity of her friendship and
love for him.

Through the blood-red haze that threatened to overpower her mind, Sekhnar
felt the same thing; she felt how perfectly they meshed as she achieved
mind-meld, and was rocked by the instantaneous knowledge of everything in
the depths of his innermost soul. As her fingers pressed against his skull,
she knew the taste of fresh _qagh_, the sweaty chafe of a Klingon warrior's
costume, and the songs he sang to himself on the holodeck.  She knew the
concealed depth of his feelings for her.

And then the red bloodfire blazed up through her, and the raw lust of her
_pon farr_ overwhelmed all the medicines and rituals. She tore off her
uniform and stood naked before him, then ripped his clothing off. He was
already erect and ready; her fierce roughness, along with the telepathic
surge she sent out, triggered his own Klingon mating frenzy. They attacked
each other simultaneously, her Vulcan strength almost evenly matched
against his Klingon muscle power. She was teeth, and clawing hands, and
burning heat, and desperate unslakable passion. A deep roar rose in his
throat, drowning out her moan of agonized pleasure as he entered her
violently. Her nails raked magenta furrows in his buttocks as she used all
the strength of madness to pull him deeper inside her. In turn, the
stimulus of the sudden pain stimulated him to thrust even harder and more
roughly. She writhed and howled, and wrapped her legs around him. Their
telepathic link was so complete that each of them felt the other's
responses as their own, and the intensity spiraled upward and upward in a
runaway feedback of sheer animal sex. What happened to her then might be
considered an orgasm -- her body convulsed so violently that she nearly
threw Arifel off her, and she screamed like a wild creature. But it didn't
seem to satisfy the fury of her need; even as her convulsions ebbed, she
was urging him to keep thrusting into her. Soon he, too, reached a climax,
bellowing a wordless cry as his back arched and he drove into her with all
his strength.  Yet she could not let him rest. She stimulated him
frantically, clawing at him and pressing her heaving body against his and
sending waves of desire into his mind, until he responded again. They
coupled again and again in a frenzy of lust, every sensation reduplicated
by their telepathic union, desperately seeking a satisfaction that seemed
to elude them even as they came. Finally, though, their bodies succumbed to
exhaustion, and they collapsed into an unconsciousness beyond sleep.

Some while later, they awoke, bruised and scratched and sore. The
telepathic link was still present, but refined now to carry thoughts as
well as wordless sensations. Arifel was still unused to purely mental
communication, and he spoke out loud.

"I'm glad you chose me as your partner. I have never experienced anything
like this before." In formal Klingon, he added, "_chobatlhqu'moHta'_... you
have done me great honor."

"_batlh'e'wI'_, the honor is mine. Until now, I didn't realize just how
...compatible we were."

When he spoke again, there was a hesitancy in his manner; Klingons were not
generally comfortable talking about emotions. "This is going to make our
relationship as co-workers complex. You are a good person to work with, and
a worthy friend and companion, and I would like for us to remain friends.
But it will be hard for me to work beside you and not think about ...what
just happened between us. And will the mental link between us remain as it
is, or will it fade away until the next time you experience _pon farr_?
Will it draw us together again then? There are so many things I do not
understand about this!"

In answer, she began to caress the ridges on his head, very tenderly, in a
manner completely unlike their recent frenzied rutting.

"Are you *still* experiencing the urges of _pon farr_?" he asked; her touch
was, incredibly, arousing him again.

"_Imzadi_... _t'hy'la_... _bangwI'oy_... beloved..." she murmured,
endearments in four languages tumbling over one another, "this has nothing
to do with _pon farr_... this is for you and me..."

She brought her mouth down upon his in a passionate yet tender kiss; his
tongue met hers, and then there was no need for any language at all...



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