TITLE: Make The Rules, 1/1
AUTHOR: Kristin Johnson
SERIES: TOS/DS9
CODES: Kirk/Sloan, Kirk/Spock, Kirk/Spock/Sloan, m/m
RATING: NC-17
SUMMARY: On an embattled world, Kirk struggles to prevent an 
interstellar war, but he is distracted by a mysterious--and very 
attractive--stranger from the future, with a deadly secret agenda.

TIMING: DS9, mid-6th season, TOS, mid-third season, probably 
after "The Paradise Syndrome"

James Kirk could smell the blood even from the underground meeting 
place.

What was worse was, if Vulcan blood smelled, as McCoy put it, "like 
boiled Brussels sprouts," human blood smelled like salted meat, 
Klingon blood smelled like beets (honestly!), Avari blood smelled 
like a chocolate soufflé.  

Kirk doubted he would ever eat a soufflé again...at least not with 
beets, or Brussels sprouts, or salted meat.

There was human and Vulcan blood mixed with Avari blood, and Klingon 
blood...

Human, Klingon and Avari.  It was a deadly combination.  The Klingons 
had, with their usual finesse, staked their claim on a world the 
Federation had only discovered seven months ago.  Unfortunately, the 
independent survey team, mainly composed of humans and Vulcans, had 
something to say in the matter.  So did the Avari.

"They look like Spock," McCoy had said in the Enterprise briefing on 
the Avari, "but they're supposed to be charming--so I guess we'll 
ride in and save them from the Klingons."

Charming, Kirk mused.  The creatures' eyes were pure energy, their 
skin translucent, and their blood glowed within so that their faces 
looked like a star chart.  They had long ridged ears that tapered 
more elegantly to points like a Vulcan's.  The creatures dressed in 
flowing, free robes in shades of purple, green, or crimson.  The 
Universal Translator rendered their whispers to audible and 
intelligible speech, and indeed, they did seem gracious.

"We do not want the warriors on our world," Sern, the Avari viceroy 
(that was the translation for their word for leader) said. "Excuse 
us...but...no warriors, you or Kling."

"You need doctors, don't you?" McCoy asked, large blue eyes concerned 
and stubborn.  McCoy would heal people until they pulled his bloody, 
tired body off the last patient.

And Kirk would stay at this damn negotiating table until the Klingons 
agreed to leave.  He wouldn't leave unless they did.

>From the bat'leth-sharp smile of the Klingon commander, Kirk doubted 
the R'keth, the Klingon Bird-of-Prey in orbit, would leave easily.

Eltoren, the Avari surgeon-general, spoke. "Healers always welcome." 
He nodded at Spock. "Vulcans welcome."

"Fine, you can have him," McCoy offered with levity.

With folded arms and an artfully tilted head, Spock protested McCoy's 
attempts at humor.

"We could use a Vulcan," the Klingon said softly, as softly as 
Klingons ever spoke. "It might help our cause.  Particularly the son 
of Ambassador Sarek."

Spock regarded him levelly. "My father is unreachable at present.  
Your suggestion is illogical."

And unwelcome, Kirk added silently.  Father and son still had not 
repaired the decades-long breach between them, despite Sarek's last 
visit to the Enterprise.

He gave the Klingon credit for studying their intelligence files.

"I think the Avari suggestion is quite logical," Kirk said 
clearly. "If we both leave, and agree not to lay claim here, but to 
leave the Avari alone-"

"Except for medical aid," McCoy added loudly. 

"Medical aid." The Klingon smiled shrewdly. "Then it will be science 
teams, and pleasure-visitors, and diplomats, and soon this world will 
be securely within the pocket of the Federation.  No."

"They have the right to make that choice," Kirk said evenly.

"Choice," the Klingon sneered. "The Federation's way of saying 'our 
way is better.'  You use bribes.  We use honest domination.  Either 
way, the result is the same."

He pointed a finger at the quietest member of the dubious 
proceedings, a human Kirk didn't recognize and had not paid much 
attention to. "But secretly, the Federation does use force, does it 
not?  You arm the Avari against us!"

"We take no arms," Sern said. "Ro'zenal is here to share knowledge, 
study land."

"That's perfectly true," said the man at the center of controversy.

Kirk reassessed Ro'zenal after hearing the gruff but compelling 
voice.  Despite hair-clips and glitter in his longish blond-brown 
ponytail, and the purple Avari robe he wore, the man seemed 
unimpressive at first.  But the cornflower eyes...they had a wide 
look of innocence...the kind that criminals have.  And yet, Ro'zenal 
also looked unsettled.  He kept playing with the tricorder he'd 
carried to the meeting.   Every time he glanced at the Klingons, Kirk 
saw him quiver.  Guilt...or fear of being unjustly accused?

"Ro'zenal," Spock said. "You are a member of the survey team?"

"Independent survey only," the man said softly. "From the Estrella 
Institute."

Spock nodded. "An accredited and most respected scientific 
institution."

The man bowed his head respectfully. "Thank you."

Spock raised a brow. "I was stating a universally known fact."

"Bah," the Klingon said. "Scientists can be bought."

"Yes," Ro'zenal said softly, "by Klingons as well as the Federation."

The Klingon rose majestically with dagger pointed at Ro'zenal.  He 
was the only short Klingon Kirk had seen, about Ro'zenal's height, 
and about as tall as Kirk himself.  Kor had towered over him...but 
the Organians...

"Careful what you do," Kirk said quietly. "The Organians are still 
watching."

"Bah," said the Klingon again.

Kirk faced him down while sitting. "The Estrella Institute, as my 
first officer testified, is well-known and respected.  It is not a 
conduit for arms-dealing."

"You can inspect our quarters if you like," Ro'zenal said placidly, 
seemingly blasé about the near-brush with a Klingon blade.

"We will." The Klingon stalked towards the narrow cave mouth, the 
shape of a squat Gothic window. "And we will not leave until we have 
uncovered Federation treachery."

"Who wrote his lines?" McCoy muttered. "Doesn't every Klingon say 
that?"

Kirk's attention was on Ro'zenal. "Now that he's gone...truth. You 
haven't been supplying arms to the Avari?"

"Those were Federation phasers and phaser rifles the Avari used on 
the Klingons," Spock added.

Ro'zenal shook his head. "Captain, none of us would wish to harm the 
Avari, or risk a war with the Klingons.  We aren't even armed.  We 
had no idea the Klingons would be interested in this world--pardon, 
Eltoren."

Eltoren nodded good-naturedly.

"Perhaps the Avari took up arms from the Klingons," Ro'zenal said 
helpfully. "Klingons have raided Federation weapons depots."

"Perhaps?" Kirk had gone from feeling sorry for Ro'zenal to disliking 
his innocent denials. "You're a scientist, you're trained to observe."

"We were in our labs with Eltoren and his people when the shooting 
started," Ro'zenal said, perspiration making his pale face ruddy. "We 
rushed out to see...we took up arms of course, to defend ourselves 
and the Avari scientists...Eltoren's mate was wounded in the 
struggle."

"She lives," Eltoren said, and McCoy smiled with warmth.  There was, 
Kirk thought, a bond between doctors of any race.  McCoy had been 
married too, once.

"Yes, I'm so grateful." Ro'zenal looked solemn, a striking contrast 
with his odd flamboyant hairstyle. "Captain Kirk, Sern, I'm sorry for 
the conflict we've accidentally triggered.  Perhaps if we 
leave...your starship, if you wouldn't mind."

"Not so fast." Kirk looked to Sern and Eltoren. "Someone gave your 
people weapons."

"We do not use killing fire," Eltoren said.

"Obviously, someone on your planet does.  And someone supplied them 
with weapons.  The last time the Federation, with good intentions, 
intervened in a war, we thanked God there wasn't more destruction." 
Kirk spoke passionately, remembering Neural. "If someone from the 
Federation did this, we will find them.  And we'll ask the Klingons 
to help."

Ro'zenal blinked in surprise, then shook his head.

"You do want to be cleared, don't you?" Kirk asked him. "We'll need 
your cooperation."

"Of course." The man looked distracted.

Eltoren and Sern nodded. "It is agreed.  We will help," Sern said.

Kirk rose, as did Spock and McCoy. "I think we should have a private 
talk with the Klingon commander.  Ro'zenal, you're welcome to join 
us."

The outer cave was pure crystal, transparent, open to the sky through 
pure glass that, amazingly was naturally formed.  

"Well, someone's lying," McCoy muttered. "Besides the Klingons."

"Hasty judgments and irrational remarks do us no good, Doctor," Spock 
said as they exited the cavern into a narrow alleyway between 
crystalline Avari structures.  

Kirk flipped open his communicator and ignored Spock and McCoy 
bickering. "Kirk to Enterprise."

"Uhura here.  What do you need, Captain?"

Uhura in command made Kirk feel secure.  He trusted her absolutely.  
Besides, Scotty was off-duty reading technical manuals...

"Where from our current position is the closest gathering of 
Klingons?"

Then, Kirk felt his stomach and neck being mangled by two large 
fists, and through the pain shock he heard Uhura say, "There are 
three Klingons behind you, Captain."

Kirk kicked back, but the Klingon would not be so easily wounded, and 
held the struggling human tightly.  Kirk heard the loud sound of a 
body hitting the planet's surface and hoped it was a Klingon.

McCoy head-butted a Klingon, which took Kirk by surprise.  The two 
went down in an awkward tangle.

Spock...had he dropped the Klingon with a neck pinch?

The Klingon holding Kirk gasped in extreme pain and let go.

Kirk held his stomach as the Klingon, holding fragments of his arm 
together, backed away.  Kirk, knowing how the Klingons hated to 
retreat, stunned his assailant.  The Klingon McCoy had tangled with 
also lay stunned as McCoy stood over him with a phaser.  Spock stood 
over his Klingon's inert, prone form.

Ro'zenal stood beside Kirk with a Klingon dagger.  He met Kirk's 
stare with a smile. "I told you we didn't need phasers, Captain."

"Not that we don't appreciate your help, Mr. Ro'zenal--" Kirk started.

"The name is Rosenthal.  Dr. Abraham Rosenthal.  The Klingons call me 
Ro'zenal, and the Avari just assumed that was my name." Rosenthal 
bowed, then nodded at the alley behind them. "We should go."

"That hair's hardly regulation for a scientist," Kirk said, but felt 
oddly guilty.  It was hard to accuse a man who had just saved his 
life. "And where are we going?"

"Away from the Avari and the Klingons.  To the science team's 
quarters." Rosenthal smiled brazenly. "I take it you like my look, 
Captain?"

McCoy suddenly developed a cough, and Spock raised a brow.

"Why should we avoid the Avari?" Kirk wasn't moving.

"Because they stole the weapons from the Federation, to start a war 
with the Klingons...and, if you'll let me, I can prove it." Rosenthal 
looked into Kirk's eyes.  There was something hypnotic about the 
certainty Kirk saw in his face. "After you inspect our quarters, and 
see that we're not to blame.  They are."

"Lead the way," Kirk said, swearing to himself he would not let 
Rosenthal out of his sight.

Rosenthal's smile was taunting, inviting...and Kirk couldn't stop 
looking at him all the way to the science team's quarters.


James Tiberius Kirk was everything history claimed, and more.

The "more" had been proven when Kirk reacted to his intimate gaze.

Agent Luther Sloan, temporarily posing as roguish (and, just a week 
before, deceased) Dr. Abraham Rosenthal, decided to do something 
completely heretical and scandalous for an operative and a senior 
director of Section 31.  The shadow group was the Federation's secret 
intelligence and covert ops agency, a group dedicated to dissembling 
in the name of protecting the Federation from even the hint of a 
threat.  But Sloan was considering a radical move, certainly not one 
often employed or approved of, especially in a situation where he had 
to consider the effects on the timeline.

He would tell Kirk the truth about events on the Avari homeworld.  

Well...after a fashion.  A carefully edited version of events that 
did not include Section 31's "encouragement" of the Avari with a 
cache of weapons and a few incidents between Human, Klingon and 
Avari.  None of these were radical manipulations.  There had, 
historically, been an Avari-Klingon conflict, but the Enterprise had 
stepped in and warned the Klingons off while the Avari did nothing, 
seemingly unaware of the threat.

Kirk could not know that by saving the Avari as he would be inclined 
to do, he was unleashing a future threat, a link to the superpower 
known as the Dominion, which was even now attempting to conquer the 
Federation in its most devastating war.  

The Avari looked innocent enough, but genetic tests determined they 
were the prototype for the Vorta, the Dominion's middlemen who gave 
the battle orders and manipulated behind the scenes.  

In 2374, nearly 150 years in Kirk's future, the Founders, who created 
the Vorta, would call the Avari to battle, and because of their 
genetically programmed subservience, the Avari would obey.  So 
Section 31 projections said.

Three weeks before Sloan had volunteered for this mission, a Section 
31 operative posing as a member of a Federation medical study group 
reported traces of ketracel-white on the Avari homeworld.  As Dr. 
Julian Bashir of Deep Space Nine had discovered, ketracel-white was 
the substance the Vorta used to keep the Dominion troops, the 
Jem'Hadar, in line.

It was a pity Bashir had refused Sloan's offer to join Section 31.  
He would have been able to authenticate the ketracel-white faster 
than the team did.  Fortunately, his work was well-known in medical 
circles, and when Section 31's scientists compared the samples from 
the Avari to Dr. Bashir's research, there was a match.

The Avari homeworld straddled a vital corridor of space, and the 
Avari themselves had become Federation members in 2311.  That could 
not be allowed to happen.  The risk of an accidental, and possibly 
time-altering, conflict with the Klingons was greater than he would 
have liked, but considering the sheer number of Enterprise skirmishes 
with the Klingons, this was just another day at the office for James 
Kirk and crew.

Of course, he regretted the deaths of the unsuspecting survey team, 
but millions in his present stood to lose their lives if the Avari 
were allowed to live...or, at least, if they were not severely 
handicapped, with the Federation refusing to give aid, as they surely 
would once Kirk learned of their treachery.

The Dominion would be of no help either.  The Bajoran wormhole would 
not be discovered until 2367.  It would take centuries for the 
Founders and Vorta to arrive in the Alpha Quadrant without it.  
Besides, the Avari had been cast out, like Lilith of the Bible, as 
being imperfect.  It was not the Federation's responsibility to 
befriend every species, and Kirk and crew knew this, even if they did 
not admit it to themselves.

If his psychology profile was accurate, Kirk would be swayed by the 
deception...and he would be distracted.

Kirk's appetite for beautiful women was well-known.  But Section 31 
was very thorough.  They'd discovered the less overt side of this 
Starfleet legend...after all, why had the fiercely private Spock let 
Kirk so completely past his defenses?  

They weren't lovers yet.  There had never been any exact moment 
anyone could pinpoint as the start of that relationship.  But the 
beginnings were here, today.  Kirk fell easily into step beside the 
Vulcan, while McCoy (who surely possessed some intuition about the 
two) kept Sloan company.

McCoy's smile was warm, his concern real...not unlike Julian Bashir's 
in the beginning...Bashir would come around eventually.  

As one of Bashir's influences, and in himself, McCoy was intriguing, 
with his brilliance and old country manners.  Spock...well, Spock was 
Spock.

But Kirk held his attention.  The 'Boy Scout' captain, with his 
penchant for breaking rules, his ability to be a law unto himself and 
be applauded, and his brilliant improvisation in field situations, 
had always fascinated Sloan.  If not for his overly public image and 
his stubborn loyalty to his crew, and the ship he clung to, as well 
as to his conception of himself as Sir Galahad, Kirk might have made 
an effective agent.

But it would have been a mistake, anyway.  The Federation needed Kirk 
desperately as a hero...there would be a scandal in Starfleet's 
future, and Kirk would rescue them.  Not to mention that Kirk would 
heal V'Ger, face Khan, save Earth from its lack of whales, and 
prevent all-out galactic holocaust with the Klingons.  He needed to 
be a hero...

Untarnished...unsullied...noble.

Sloan would protect the hero with all his strength and 
cunning...while committing acts Kirk would despise, even though he 
regularly congratulated himself on clever maneuverings daily.

They had much in common, he and this untamed, unfettered philosopher-
captain with a smile to win galaxies and charmed eyes that could 
easily turn hard.

That was one of the reasons Sloan didn't mind seducing James Kirk to 
achieve his goals.  

One of the reasons.   

All in the line of duty.

"Welcome," he announced, throwing open the tent flap. "Lab sweet lab."


Kirk felt more reassured by Rosenthal's occasional corny turn of 
phrase.  It made the man seem less glib, more real.

The tent was sturdy, not letting in light from the outside.  Light 
emanated from some invisible source in the room, illuminating a 
respectable field laboratory.

Two Vulcans and one large Human female were engrossed in microcosmic 
study around their tables.  The Human female polished a phaser rifle 
as casually as she might wash out a beaker.

The taller Vulcan, a female, looked up.  She did not react to Spock 
perceptibly, but Kirk had learned to recognize the subtle change in 
the air when his famous first officer met other Vulcans.

The female Vulcan and her squat male comrade both made the Vulcan 
salute. "Peace and long life," the female Vulcan said.

"May logic prevail this day," Spock answered, returning the salute.

"I thought you always said 'Live long and prosper' in response," 
McCoy said.

The two Vulcans slightly shook their heads.

"With Humans and Klingons in conflict, we are more in need of logic, 
Doctor, that we may live long and prosper as well," Spock said.

Rosenthal took advantage of the pause as McCoy considered what to say 
next. "Dr. Storr, Dr. T'Kan, Dr. Sessions, Captain James T. Kirk, 
Doctor McCoy, and Commander Spock of the Enterprise."

"It's about time Starfleet arrived," Dr. Sessions said in a soft 
voice that belied the force in her eyes and the rifle in her lap.  
Kirk made a note to remember to have her cover his flank should the 
Klingons or Avari raid the tent.

"Starfleet is here to negotiate, if possible," Kirk said evenly.

"There's no negotiation with the Klingons or the Avari." Dr. Sessions 
looked at Rosenthal. "Have you shown them?"

"Did you conceal it?" Rosenthal asked.

Dr. Storr folded his hands behind his back. "It seemed most expedient 
to do so, particularly since the Klingons and Avari seemed interested 
in our tent."

"But you didn't actually see the shooting begin," Kirk addressed him.

"No, I was occupied with changing the cultures in the petri dishes," 
Dr. Storr said. "I noted a discrepancy in--"

"Thank you, Dr. Storr.  Dr. T'Kan?" Kirk ignored McCoy's relieved 
sigh and Spock's deadpan face.

"I also did not see the shooting," Dr. T'Kan said. "But I heard Avari 
and Klingon voices.  I heard hostility."

"How did you know they were interested in your tent?"

"Because one of the Klingons wandered into our sleeping tents and 
ripped the bedding apart," Dr. Sessions said. "I killed him."

Looking at her, Kirk had no doubt of it.

"How did you know he was looking for whatever you're concealing?"

"He was looking for evidence that we're arming the Avari," Rosenthal 
said, nodding at Dr. Storr, who left the tent through the front 
flap. "Unfortunately, what we have could, to a Klingon mind, 
implicate us...or worse, Starfleet."

Kirk knew that all he could do was wait until Dr. Storr returned.

"How many of the team members are left?" he asked gently.

"Do they need medical care?" McCoy added.

"There are six missing, ten slaughtered, and yes, seven in need of 
serious medical care," Rosenthal said with a warm smile at McCoy for 
asking.

"With your permission, they may not be safe here," McCoy said 
softly. "I'd like to have them transported to the Enterprise."

The three scientists nodded. "Thank you," Dr. Sessions said softly.

"We'll also replace the bedding from ship's stores," Kirk said.

"Do we get a massage too?" Rosenthal teased.

"You'll have to ask the medical staff," Kirk replied.

Rosenthal winked. "I thought starship captains liked to be hands-on."

There it was...definitely a signal.  Unless Rosenthal was this 
flirtatious with everyone?  From the way Sessions rolled her eyes, 
perhaps.

Dr. McCoy coughed and nodded at Dr. Sessions. "Maybe you better show 
me where your wounded are.  You can protect my flank."

"Fine with me," Dr. Sessions said, presenting arms as she and McCoy 
left the tent.

Spock engrossed himself in conversation with Dr. T'Kan, since he 
presumably saw no value in speculating on the evidence before it was 
presented.  Dr. T'Kan motioned to a row of interesting-looking 
glowing dishes.  Kirk knew Spock would be diverted for the next five 
minutes.

That left Rosenthal, who looked somber again. "Dr. Sessions wasn't 
exaggerating, Captain.  We lost half our people."

"I'm sorry," Kirk said.  Somehow he sensed Rosenthal would not be 
comforted by trite phrases.  Kirk himself hated platitudes. "I don't 
envy telling the Estrella Institute."

"Unfortunately, our grant may be canceled if we're in the middle of a 
war with no end in sight," Rosenthal said. "Our group stays as far 
away from political controversy as possible.  It doesn't matter who 
started the fight, who is right or who's wrong.  What matters is 
getting out of it with as little mess as possible."

"Is that an approach you admire?" Kirk wasn't sure why he asked the 
question.  He just had a gut instinct that Rosenthal was an important 
figure in all of this.  Or maybe he was making conversation.

"I'm a Federation citizen, Captain.  I know where my loyalties lie.  
I know who started this conflict, and it's not my people.  It's not 
the Federation.  I'd rather not be accused of treason or murder.  But 
I'd also prefer not to leave this planet until the job is done."

Kirk respected that answer.  In fact, he was coming to respect 
Rosenthal, rather quickly.

"I thought most scientists worked in an ivory tower," Kirk 
teased, "ignorant of the real world."

Rosenthal lowered his voice, and his eyes smiled at Kirk. "Haven't 
you found out yet that I'm one of a kind?"

Before Kirk could ask Rosenthal if he were this bold with everyone, 
Dr. Storr arrived inside the tent.  He didn't look as if he'd 
hurried, but Vulcans could hurry without running.  Kirk immediately 
focused on the wrapped bundle in his hands.  Dr. Storr walked to the 
central lab table and delicately unwrapped the bundle.  Spock and Dr. 
T'Kan observed on either side of him.

"The Avari are space-faring with limited fleet range," Dr. Storr 
said. "Two weeks ago, one of their scoutships left unexpectedly to 
observe a pulsar.  We asked to be observers, but our request was 
denied.  Four days ago, armed conflict began. And two days ago, we 
recovered this from one of their refuse repositories.  The Avari do 
not use metal for their ships.  Until two days ago, we also believed 
they did not use weapons."

Kirk watched as the large bundle revealed its contents.

He recognized the end of a Starfleet warp nacelle immediately, and a 
large jagged metal fragment bearing the name 'MONITOR NEC-34567.'

The Monitor was a Starfleet freighter carrying weapons to the supply 
depot a sector away.

Spock spoke gravely. "The Monitor was reported lost in this sector, 
Captain."

Kirk's communicator sounded. "McCoy to Captain Kirk.  The wounded 
scientists are now on board the Enterprise.  If there's going to be 
any more fighting, please don't start before these seven have time to 
heal."

"The Avari won't promise you that, Doctor.  And I can't, either." 
Kirk nodded at Spock. "Especially since we need to have another talk 
with the Avari...and the Klingons."


The talk was a colossal failure.

Avari did not respond well to direct confrontation with evidence.  
They didn't become angry and they didn't order Kirk off their 
planet.  They simply let him understand that he was mistaken, and 
asked him to help them defend themselves against the Klingons.  Yes, 
they understood that he couldn't do that.

And in doing so, they left him with a dilemma.

On the one hand, the Avari had attacked a Federation vessel, killed 
Starfleet officers and embroiled themselves in a war with the 
Klingons.

On the other hand, the Klingons would not believe the Avari had acted 
on their own and would continue to look for Federation involvement.  
Kirk's attempts to reach the Klingon commander were unsuccessful.  
Klingons disliked wasting words when a decision had been made.

Kirk could not leave the planet, and leave the Avari as, in his 
present mood, he would be inclined to do.

Uhura suggested that the Enterprise proceed to the Monitor's last 
known position and look for evidence of Avari weapons fire and debris.

Spock raised the question of why the Avari needed hand phasers if 
their ships were equipped with destructive weapons, and hypothesized 
that the Avari might have lured the Monitor to the planet, then 
seized ship and crew.  If that were so, then the Monitor might very 
well be on the planet, perhaps near the refuse from which Dr. Storr 
had recovered it.

"That's assuming the ship is still intact," McCoy warned. "Would they 
have left its computer to give us testimony for the prosecution?"

"There's one way to find out," Rosenthal said brashly. "Captain, Dr. 
Storr and I can lead you to where we think the rest of the ship would 
be.  The Avari probably assumed we'd never bother to venture near 
their garbage."

"All right.  I want you covering me," Kirk said, "since Dr. McCoy has 
stolen Dr. Sessions."

"She's no good for you anyway, Captain," Rosenthal said, ignoring the 
tolerant looks from the Vulcans. "I'm the one you want..." 

"Are you sure of that?" Kirk challenged.

Rosenthal smiled innocently. "In a fight."

"Right." Kirk put his hands on his hips, communicating to Rosenthal 
he wasn't fooled.

"Human mating rituals," Dr. T'Kan remarked. "They are illogical.  Too 
much discussion in public."

"I request to accompany you as well, Captain," Spock said.

"Granted." Kirk sounded businesslike. "Let's move out."

Within ten minutes, Kirk, Rosenthal and the two Vulcans set out 
across sharply sloping crystal hills that led away from the 
settlement.

As Kirk hiked, phaser at the ready, he watched Spock and Dr. Storr 
proceeding ahead of them, scouting the trail.  Rosenthal hiked with 
Kirk, but seemed focused on their surroundings, watching warily.  He 
was athletic, moving agilely and with assurance.  In fact, Kirk had 
to remind himself to watch their surroundings and not Rosenthal.

It wasn't the first time anyone had made overtures during a mission, 
and it wasn't the first time a man found him attractive.  Maybe it 
was the impossibility of the situation, or the long months of 
emotional and physical celibacy since Miramanee's death on the 
Preserver planet, but Kirk was definitely responding to the slightly 
goofy, intelligent, handsome, confident scientist.  But he had to 
keep focused on the trail, and on his priorities.

There were no Avari guarding the ravine where Avari stored their 
refuse.  Except for a Klingon patrol that the party avoided, keeping 
low to the ground, they'd been lucky so far.

Spock scanned the area for any telltale signatures. "Reading 
titanium, dilithium, duranium, and duotronic processors, 
Captain...one hundred feet below us."

"Too bad we can't transport it out," Kirk muttered. "Do we know what 
they do with the stuff they deposit?"

"Recycle it, presumably," Rosenthal replied, "but we haven't observed 
that firsthand."

Kirk made a decision. "An eye for an eye..." He opened his 
communicator. "Kirk to Enterprise."

"Lieutenant Uhura here."

"Target phasers on these coordinates and vaporize all material until 
you reach fifty feet." Kirk gave her the coordinates.

"Captain, if I may...are we at war with the Avari?"

"We're determining that now, Lieutenant."

"Understood, Captain.  Uhura out."

Kirk motioned to Rosenthal, Spock and Dr, Storr. "To the hills, let's 
move!"


An hour of salvage later, Kirk, Spock, Storr, McCoy, Rosenthal, and 
the other scientists had moved to the hills, near the lifeless husk 
of the Monitor.  The team from the Estrella Institute coordinated the 
transport of their tents and equipment, and the re-settling of their 
base in the hills.  

"Much more scenic," Rosenthal said. "There's a pure mountain stream 
that flows through these hills.  Even out in the open here, we're 
safer than near the Avari settlement."

Kirk agreed.  While Spock and Dr. Storr determined the damage to the 
Monitor's computers, this was the safest place to be.  McCoy went to 
rustle up dinner, while Dr. T'Kan and Dr. Sessions minded the store 
in the lab.  

They would be alone for the next few critical days.  The Klingons 
apparently were suspicious of the Enterprise's precision phaser work, 
and ordered the ship to retreat from the planet.  Kirk demanded to 
speak to the Klingon commander personally, but got the brush-off 
again.  Judiciously, Uhura suggested the Enterprise retreat for the 
moment and give the Klingons the impression that the crew had left, 
taking the scientists with them.  Kirk agreed.  So the Enterprise 
would not be within communications range.  Fortunately, the Estrella 
Institute had developed the prototype for the advanced flare capable 
of escaping the planet's atmosphere and registering on the 
Enterprise's sensors.  No time like the present to test it, Rosenthal 
said.  And they might need to.

For the moment, all was quiet, and all Kirk could do was relax and 
dictate his mission log.

"We're safe for the moment," he agreed, sitting on soft springy 
ground near the tent

Rosenthal also took a respite, sitting with a cup of steaming tea 
that he sipped slowly. "That was brilliant, to order the Enterprise 
to retreat and move us here, fooling both the Avari and the Klingons."

"Spock tells me there's something about the hills that obscures 
sensor readings as well," Kirk added. "The Klingons, and the Avari if 
they have planetary sensors, won't be able to detect us."

"An ideal location all around." Rosenthal glanced up at the purplish 
sky.   Would fall in an hour. "Clear skies...quiet...with an 
incredible view of the stars." He glanced at Kirk. "It might put some 
people in a romantic mood, don't you think?"

Kirk put aside his recording device and approached Rosenthal. "Are 
you always this charming in the midst of a war?"

"We might die any minute," Rosenthal said brazenly. "If that happens, 
I'd rather go with no regrets, leaving nothing undone or unsaid."

Kirk recognized his own philosophy: no regrets over the path not 
taken.  Any regrets he would have, and did have, centered on things 
he'd done and said.

Rosenthal was serious, seeing Kirk's moment of contemplation. "If I 
think about the ten people who died, about the innocent Avari who 
died, I'll agonize over ways I could have prevented their deaths. 
I'll lose my focus.  You've lost people." It was not a question.

Kirk nodded slowly. "I put on a good face for the crew in times of 
trouble...try not to think about the people who won't be returning 
from our mission."

"They died for a reason, Captain.  They had a purpose."

"I try to remember that.  And I try to let their deaths---"

"...spur you on, to save the lives of those who count on you.  To do 
your job."

Kirk nodded as he stretched out his legs beside Rosenthal.  This 
shared moment served as an island in the storm.  The connection with 
this stranger felt strong, and he was more inclined to listen to 
Rosenthal to talk to McCoy, who was emotional about the lost lives, 
and unhappy with the Avari, the Klingons, and Kirk for not getting 
them all the hell out of here.

"I'm sorry you're in this situation," he said softly.

"And I'm wicked, Captain.  Because I keep clinging to the one good 
thing in this whole mess." Rosenthal put aside his tea and squeezed 
Kirk's tense shoulders, his hands warm and welcome. "I think you need 
that massage more than I do, Captain."

"Captain."

Rosenthal's husky, roughened voice, so unexpectedly seductive, 
overlapped with Spock's cool, professional tone.  

James Kirk stood immediately, knowing that Spock did not interrupt 
except in matters of urgency. "Spock, what is it?"

Spock's eyes lingered on Rosenthal until the man grinned sheepishly 
and rose. "The computer core is intact, but we are unable to access 
it."

"Freighter computers aren't as easy to crack as a starship's core," 
Rosenthal said lightly. "They're much more temperamental.  
Unpredictable.  I repaired one while enjoying passage to Dorlan II.  
Engineering was short-handed."

"You have many talents," Spock said neutrally.

Kirk wondered if his science officer was offended by having someone 
else be more skilled at the workings of the computer.  That had 
always been Spock's domain.  It was illogical...but Spock was used to 
doing everything well.

"Doctor Rosenthal, give it your best shot." Kirk turned to Spock. "I 
don't know about you, but whatever McCoy is cooking smells edible and 
we haven't eaten all day."

Spock inclined his head slightly, watching Rosenthal until the man 
climbed down the ropes that led down to the ship.  

Kirk suddenly wondered if his first officer distrusted 
Rosenthal...and this bothered him...too damn much.  He ate slowly, 
watching for Rosenthal's return.


He may have been posing as a doctor, but he'd performed successful 
surgery on the computer core.  The databanks would show an Avari 
transmission luring the ship to the homeworld, an Avari scout 
escorting the ship...and an Avari boarding party killing the crew.

Sloan gave himself a mental pat on the back for his performance thus 
far.  But it wouldn't do to become complacent, especially since 
Spock, for one, distrusted him.

He'd seen the look in those black eyes, the skepticism, the affront 
to the pride Spock would deny...and he saw that Spock's face looked 
more green than usual.  The Vulcan would deny it, of course.  But the 
evidence of his jealousy was there.

It wasn't difficult to discover why Spock was jealous of him, whereas 
he would not have been of yet another of Kirk's female conquests.   
Spock, until now, had no indication that Kirk might find males 
desirable.  Now, his eyes had been fully opened.

The first order of business was, of course, to show them the 
evidence.  Then, while Kirk pondered what to do...

"Doctor."

Spock stood between two thin, jagged outcroppings of crystal, looking 
like a demon at the gates.

"I accessed the databanks, Mr. Spock," Sloan said brashly. "Score one 
for the human race."

"I do not believe you."

The direct statement caught him off guard, and he brazened it 
out. "That a Human can be better than a Vulcan with computers?  Don't 
worry, I'll try not to give McCoy too much ammunition.  He seems to 
like teasing you."

Spock moved, and raised his hand to Sloan's face.

"You are not what you seem," Spock said. "Your...discoveries and your 
help are too convenient."

Then, he pressed his fingers to Sloan's face.

Stunned, Sloan raised his mental shields quickly, but he doubted they 
would last.  Spock's mental energy rattled his shields as the Vulcan 
whispered, "My mind to your mind..."

He could not let this happen!

"I thought Vulcans didn't believe in mind-rape," he said, but Spock's 
eyes were resolute, and there was no reaching him.

He could not kill Spock and alter history.

Instead, he focused his mental energy to hit Spock while the barriers 
of his mind were down.

Sloan let loose a torrent of lust for Kirk, hatred, frustration, 
anger, fear, loneliness, and pain.  It was a solid barrage of 
emotions...most of which he kept under tight control...but it felt 
good, and powerful, to let them go...he felt Spock's long-repressed 
love, lust and jealousy answer, an awesome force to behold...until it 
doubled back on itself...

Spock screamed and staggered back, falling in a faint to the ground.  
He lay unconscious, not breathing, his skin drained of green and 
copper, so that it appeared sickening yellow.

Sloan stood over him.  Spock would recover.  Full Vulcan agents of 
Section 31 had, when the humans and other species practiced 
this 'overload' technique to defeat a mind-meld.

Behind him, he heard footsteps, and he quickly withdrew into the 
shadows, toward the camp.

When he looked back, two Avari knelt over Spock's prone form with 
phasers pointed at the helpless Vulcan.

Perfect.


For the hundredth time that night, Kirk, leaning against one of the 
hills (they were surprisingly warm), stared up at the stars and 
contemplated the critical juncture he'd come to.  Contemplated his 
first officer, the victim of some mysterious Avari force.  Spock's 
fingers were frozen in a familiar position, arranged according to the 
psychic points on the face that he touched to mind meld.  Who knew 
what mental contact with the Avari had done to Spock? 

And what had the Vulcan been doing?  Had he wanted to match himself 
with Rosenthal?  Ironic, since the man had possibly saved Spock.

He would never forget Rosenthal's breathless dash into the 
encampment.  He barely remembered the steps between the camp and the 
spot Rosenthal led Kirk, McCoy, Dr. Sessions and two of the team's 
expert marksmen to.

The Avari put up a struggle, but Kirk didn't kill them.  He stunned 
them and hauled them back to camp while he contemplated what to do.  
His retreat was hastened by the arrival of several Avari, armed with 
phasers, and one of their ships, which used some sort of grappler to 
pull the ship from the ravine.

Kirk didn't need to see the data from the Monitor's computers.  But 
Rosenthal provided it anyway, from his tricorder.

The Avari's salvage already proclaimed their guilt most effectively.  
More importantly, his first officer's present coma was the smoking 
gun.  The images of the Monitor's crew dying horribly were grim 
visual aids.  Kirk and the group planned strategy within a matter of 
minutes. 

The Avari didn't yet know where the rest of the party was, and the 
darkness obscured their eyes.  From what the Vulcans had observed, 
the Avari had limited night vision.

Dr. Storr and Dr. T'Kan fired the flare to recall the Enterprise.  
Dr. Sessions and Dr. T'Kan stood guard over the Avari.  Dr. McCoy 
kept vigil over Spock, and told Kirk gruffly, "You need to rest.  We 
all do.  We'll deal with this mess in the morning."

Kirk couldn't sleep.

He contemplated the brilliant stars and tried to think of his next 
move.  Everything led back to the Klingons.

He would approach the Klingons with incontrovertible proof.  Even the 
obstinate Klingon commander would have to believe him.  He would 
question the two Avari.  He would make them tell him what they had 
done to Spock.   The effects of the stun were not yet worn off, and 
McCoy's medicines couldn't revive them.  

He would handle everything in the morning.

He glanced toward the tent and saw a slight, wiry figure shadowed in 
the doorway.  

Kirk walked towards the tent as Rosenthal stepped outside.  He 
couldn't think of anything in this moment except that he needed 
someone...someone who didn't worry, like McCoy, and there was no one 
else around.  

No one else he wanted.

"I'm sorry, Captain."

The soft, sincere words were all Kirk needed.

"My friends call me Jim," he said, wondering at his own voice.

Rosenthal nodded, and stepped closer to Kirk. "Jim...I am sorry about 
Spock."

There was, if Kirk didn't miss it, guilt in that voice.

"It's not your fault," Jim said softly. "The Avari would have 
destroyed you too.  You did the right thing by bringing us back.  
He'll recover."

"And you?"

Kirk shook his head. "McCoy says to get some sleep...I can't 
sleep...but I need to stop thinking...stop worrying."

"Jim...let me help."

The words erased discipline and weariness from Kirk's mind, and he 
reached for Rosenthal with wonder and a feeling that, in Blanche 
Dubois' words, 'Sometimes...there's God...so quickly!'

Rosenthal's eyes were brilliant and blue.  His lips were surprisingly 
smooth, and sweet, and passionate in their response. 

Kirk suddenly felt his throat dry as they separated, and said 
hoarsely, "I think you said something about a mountain stream...let's 
not wake the others."


Sloan had forgotten what it was like to feel the night wind on an 
alien world, to notice in wonder that the stars above seemed closer 
and more mysterious than aboard a ship...because every time he'd been 
outside, on an alien planet at nightfall, it was usually to negotiate 
a deal, or navigate silently with night goggles, or distract an alien 
leader.

Instead, he found himself distracted.  He would have to take care 
with that...

Ah, hell.  His plans were right on target, and proceeding even better 
than he'd hoped.  He could afford to be a little preoccupied.  

Blame it on the wind.

Blame it on James Kirk.

For once since the crisis began, Kirk looked lazy and contented, 
lying naked on his stomach, head lolling on his arms, intense eyes 
fully alert and giving Sloan a thorough, covetous going-over.

"Do I pass?" Sloan grinned flamboyantly, outrageously.  It was so 
good not to be serious and controlled.  But then, Kirk permitted him 
that liberty...and in return, he'd taken liberties that the ardent 
starship captain had matched.

"Just barely."

"And I suppose you 'just barely' fucked me within an inch of my life."

Kirk shrugged. "I needed to lose a little control."

"Besides...I asked for it?"

Kirk shook his head, looking terribly stern and old-fashioned. "I 
took you up on all your flirting, yes, but maybe I could have used a 
little more finesse...there's always tomorrow."

For you, Sloan thought.  I won't have anything but this with you.  In 
all my tomorrows, in my century, there will be nothing of you but 
memories.  Besides, it's not as if you aren't used to these kinds of 
encounters. 

"I know that you know little about me," he said, playing it 
cautiously.

"I had the Enterprise transmit your biography...impressive.  But I've 
never relied on facts to tell me about someone.  I know who you are."

The words put Sloan on alert.  He smiled easily. "Oh, and who is 
that?"

"You're bright and resourceful and you seem to understand, or learn, 
things without being told.  You're someone who saved my life and 
stood up to a seven-foot Klingon...and you can handle a dagger like 
no one I've seen.  You have a rare sense of humor...even if your 
jokes flop half the time.  You're not afraid to admit what you want 
and go after it...in fact, I don't think you're afraid of anything, 
or at least, you don't let fear hold you back.  And you stick to your 
commitments, and your beliefs."

Sloan allowed himself to blush, because even Rosenthal would be moved 
by this frank and flattering assessment.  It was who he was, after 
all...who he was for Kirk, on this mission.  And Kirk's assessment of 
Abraham Rosenthal was also true of Luther Sloan, in part--he did 
stick to his commitments, and he wasn't afraid, and he did hold 
strong beliefs.  He was acting well his part, for there the honor 
lay...but something of his own personality and character had slipped 
in when he wasn't looking.  He would just have to use them as an 
asset.

"When people rush into romance, their biggest problem is love 
blinders," he said lightly. "In this case, I would have preferred 
them.  You don't seem to have any illusions about me."

Kirk shook his head. "I believe in honest relationships.  As someone 
I once knew said, 'A lie is a very poor way to say hello.'  In fact, 
she also said, 'Let me help.'"

"Sounds like quite a woman." Sloan thought it must be Edith 
Keeler...or Carol Marcus...or Miramanee, on the Preserver planet a 
few months before this mission on Avari. "Love at first sight?"

Kirk shrugged. "We had so little time...it was easy.  The story of my 
life.  It's happened too often."

"So you won't tell me you're madly in love with me and you want to 
live with me for the rest of your life?  Of course, you will 
eventually...they all do."

Kirk burst out laughing. "Is that what you want?  Not for me to say 
it...but to be together?"

"What do you want?"

"I asked you first.  After all, you haven't been shy about it before."

Kirk's face was serious, seeking, open.  If he weren't such an expert 
poker player, Sloan thought, he might not have brought his ship and 
crew home.  But this disarming directness was also part of Kirk's 
success...and it was making him feel the chill of the night as he 
began to perspire.  He rarely perspired when asked a direct question.

Blame it on James Kirk.

He reasoned that lying would do no harm.  Kirk had never been one for 
permanent, stable relationships anyway...except Spock.  And the 
deception shouldn't cost him anything.  He knew history.  He knew his 
realities and accepted them.  Surely, he couldn't agonize over one 
lie...

But if he denied with words wanting more time with James Kirk, it 
would be a lie that would damn him where none of the other lies, none 
of the other sins would.  Those had been political, calculating, 
those had been his duty.  This...this was personal.  And although 
Section 31 owned his soul, there was one corner of it that still 
belonged to him.  He couldn't let it interfere, or millions of people 
would die.  Worse, he would betray a sacred trust, a commitment...and 
negate the very thing Kirk admired about him.

It was frightening that, after less than a day of knowing the man, he 
cared about Kirk's opinion...cared for himself, not just for the 
mission.  Perhaps it was all those weeks of studying Kirk, with an 
obsession, and also that inexplicable Kirk magnetism...

He channeled his misdirected feelings into his next bluff.

"What I want," he said, "is to let the future, and all its worries, 
take care of itself and unfold as it should.  I'd like to live in the 
moment, and not have to calculate the costs of every decision." He 
saw Kirk look nonplussed, and added quickly, "Because let me tell 
you, Jim, it's not just you in Starfleet who risk your lives.  We're 
on the frontier.  This is all unexplored, but we go when and where 
we're called, because we have to know.  We have to find out what's 
out there.  What we do may save lives...even millions."

Kirk nodded slowly. "Some people, even my colleagues in command, 
think of scientists as living in 'the ivory tower,' or as dry, 
soulless calculators who don't understand how fragile life is or the 
pressures of command.  But the most courageous person I've known is a 
scientist, and he has saved millions of lives, while risking his own, 
time and again."

It wouldn't do to be jealous of Spock, either. "For once, I don't 
want to worry about the future.  I want to live the now...with you."

Kirk played with the jewels in Sloan's sandy hair, and smiled into 
his eyes.  His face radiated complete surrender.

"Seize the moment, Jim," Sloan whispered. 

He laid hands on Kirk and slowly turned him over and kissed him, 
savoring the honeyed taste of the man, the tang of his own essence on 
Kirk's tongue.  He moved back, and when Kirk reached for him, he 
pinned Kirk's arm at his side.

"You do owe me something for being so hasty..."

Kirk, catching the slow admiration in his gaze, relaxed. "Whatever 
you say, Ro'zenal." He shrugged at Sloan's amused look. "I can't 
bring myself to call you Abraham..."

"Please, don't."

"And Ro'zenal seems to suit you the best.  That's how I think of 
you...especially like this.  The rogue."

Sloan felt himself slip into the identity that Kirk had fashioned for 
him, and he liked it.  It was apart from his cool, calculating 
Section 31 self...it was separate...he could give free rein to it.  
And with Kirk, he wanted to.

The man was magnificent, naked in the starlight.  His body was 
golden, healthy, lithe and compact.  There was no part of him, from 
his sensual mouth to his muscled legs, that wasn't well-
proportioned.  But without the essence of him, if James Kirk was 
anyone but who he was, the gorgeous body would be a pretty, empty 
shell.  If Kirk made love selfishly, brutishly or mechanically, with 
no joy and no passion, it would be a simple thing just to make the 
beast with two backs, stay and make pillow-talk as long as the 
mission demanded it, then move on.

But with a man as passionate and giving as Jim, there was 
opportunity, there was persuasion...and in the meantime, there was 
pleasure still to be had, for both of them.

"Don't move, beautiful," he murmured as he lowered his head to Kirk's 
neck, biting gently, and allowing his lips to taste Kirk's skin...it 
tasted like the stars, hot and cool, like holding light in his 
mouth.  He gently played with Kirk's soft gold nipples as he kissed 
the hollow of Kirk's throat.  His leg caressed Kirk's slowly, thigh 
brushing against Kirk's balls.  Kirk might have ones of duranium in 
the figurative sense, but against his skin they were velvety and 
sensitive.

A soft growl was his response.  How appropriate.  Kirk was a jungle 
cat, a wolf, a bear.  He had been feral, tender, taking, ravishing, 
letting Sloan feel the joy of being possessed.  He remembered his own 
wails and was determined to hear Kirk cry, whimper and beg.  He 
needed it, needed to give back to Kirk for all that he had taken and 
would take.

In the moment that he tasted Kirk's nipples and tenderly caressed his 
stomach, he possessed this man.  In the kisses he couldn't stop 
giving, he marked Kirk as his, with every soft brush of the lips.  He 
felt those muscled arms hold him as he discovered just how sensual 
the tips of his fingers could feel, how powerful their heat was as 
they evoked bold cries from his lover's golden throat.  The river by 
their side roared as Kirk roared.  Kirk flowed beneath him like the 
river, surrounding him in raging, gentle currents caressing his body, 
filling him like a cup long denied water.  He sipped, guzzled, and 
fed at the wellspring of this man, tasting every part, from salt of 
his loins to the stars on his skin to the sun of his lips.  Kirk 
begged him to stop, and to continue in the same breath.  He whimpered 
and whispered, "Take me...God, please...take me..."

The joining was anticlimactic, or so he thought...after all, the most 
sensual part had happened and it surely couldn't get any better than 
his feelings as he watched Kirk cast off all inhibitions and exult in 
his touch...

But as they shared flesh and became part of each other, Sloan felt 
his very essence slip away...he was giving it to Kirk, and losing 
himself should have frightened him...then, he lost all thought, and 
was the now...no past, no present, no future...

There was only Jim.

There was only Ro'zenal.

He tried to rationalize it afterwards, telling himself that it had 
been a hell of a long time since Jessica...and that fabulous sex 
could even get to the best of Section 31 veterans.  It had to happen 
sometime.  Just as well that it happened now, when he was 'safe.'  It 
was over, done with.  Besides, he had made his own rule about never 
being seduced by a subject.  He could temporarily un-make it in this 
case...disobeying it had worked well so far.  It was a one time only 
occurrence, and he was going through with his plans...

"Jim, about the Klingons," he began softly, trying to rouse Kirk, who 
had been quiet as they lay together.

Kirk rose over him, and had him on his back in seconds, receiving a 
lusty kiss.

There was another fact about James Kirk for the files.  He had 
amazing recovery...and his libido was no longer a myth.

"The Klingon commander won't be arriving yet," Kirk murmured. "As you 
said...seize the moment."

A discreet cough saved Sloan from being overtaken by passion again, 
and he glanced towards the outcroppings that separated the camp from 
the river.

Leonard McCoy stood diffidently, uncharacteristically restrained.  
Sloan had to remind himself that beneath the reckless exterior was a 
proper Southern gentleman.  His expression would have done Spock 
justice.

Kirk looked up, too, and hastily rolled away from Sloan, drawing his 
knees in towards his chest.  He reached for his uniform as Sloan 
donned his robe.

"Bones, what is it?"

"Spock's regained consciousness."

Sloan created a mask of relief and told himself not to panic. "Thank 
Gods, Doctor.  Can he speak?"

"There's very little I can do that will stop a determined Vulcan," 
McCoy drawled. "I should thank my lucky stars for his silence."

The jokes came easy now that Spock was out of danger, Sloan noted 
idly, regaining his composure and cool perspective.

"Can he tell us what happened to him?" Kirk asked, ignoring, for the 
moment, that the doctor had caught him en flagrante.   Perhaps it 
wasn't the first time.

"Yes, but he won't, damn his stubborn Vulcanness.  He has something 
more important to tell you...about who started this war between the 
Avari and the Klingons."

Don't panic, Sloan told himself.  Kirk would tell you the same 
thing.  The moment you panic, you're dead.

He would have to take his inspiration from Kirk, and improvise.  He 
would remember what was important.  He would escape the snare and 
complete his mission.

He would change the rules.

Scratch that.  There were no rules.  

For a moment, he had forgotten who he was dealing with, and just how 
much of a threat Kirk could be.  Kirk was fortunate that his role in 
history protected him from being eliminated should the need arise.

But there was more than one way to eliminate danger...and Kirk, 
blessedly, would never know what Sloan would do to him.

If Sloan had an ego, he would have savored the silent, unrecorded 
triumph of outmaneuvering Kirk, savior of the galaxy, to save him in 
return.

"Come on, Ro'zenal," Kirk said, ignoring McCoy's questioning 
look. "Guess we'll have to seize the moment once again."

Ah, hell, might as well revel in it while it lasted.   He would be 
the man who loved, and defeated, James Kirk.  Not the worst fate in 
the world.

But if Kirk found out...he wouldn't allow himself to think about that.

He prayed that for everyone's sake, Spock would not force his hand.  
He had found out the truth about Kirk's libido.  He didn't care to 
find out how deep Kirk's loyalty to his crew ran.  But even that 
could be turned to his advantage... 

If there was one lesson he could learn from this captain, it 
was "There are always alternatives."

Shedding Ro'zenal, becoming the dedicated operative again, he planned 
for the future.


Kirk was never so grateful to see Spock, awake, and saying in that 
Victorian housekeeper demeanor, "Captain...you need not have rushed 
from your sleep.  Your uniform tunic is backwards."

McCoy folded his arms. "Only you, Spock.  The Avari nearly lobotomize 
you, and you're worried about the captain's uniform."

"At least we know he's psychologically sound," Kirk said, kneeling 
beside the narrow camp bed. "What happened?"

Spock turned, and hesitated when he saw 
Rosenthal. "I...You...Doctor..."

"He saved you, Spock," Kirk said softly. "He saw the Avari.  He came 
and got us."

"The Avari..." Spock twitched. "Jim...I must tell you..." 

Spock never called him Jim, not in front of a stranger.  The Avari 
had obviously left his shields in tatters.

"Yes," a harsh voice said, somewhere near the door of the tent. "Tell 
us about those lying peTaqs."

Kirk rose to see the Klingon commander standing in the tent, with Dr. 
Storr beside him.

"Commander..." Kirk hesitated deliberately. "I don't believe I caught 
your name."

"It is irrelevant," the Klingon commander said.

"That's the oddest Klingon name I've ever heard," McCoy 
drawled. "Don't they all usually have one syllable and sound like a 
snarl?"

The Klingon commander laughed. "What an amusing pet, Kirk.  My name, 
as it happens, is Kreth.  Remember it well." He walked over to 
Rosenthal and nearly broke the man's back with a slap. "So you 
uncover their treachery, and you defeat one of m best warriors.  You 
are obviously not the weakling you seemed, Ro'zenal."

"Remember *my* name, Klingon," Rosenthal said boldly.

"But evidence can be altered," Kreth continued over Rosenthal's 
boast."Your Dr. Storr has showed me evidence here."

"I hadn't realized you had my tricorder," Rosenthal said to Dr. 
Storr. 

"I wished to check your data," Dr. Storr said. "There can be no 
charge of forgery."

"Indeed." Kreth turned to stare at Spock. "The Vulcan Storr did not 
lie...and the son of Sarek was nearly killed by the Avari."

"We have his assailants in custody," Kirk said.

Dr. Storr spoke quietly. "They are dead, Captain."

Kirk wasn't sure why, but that news caused a qualm, like a forgotten 
clue crucial to the puzzle, hovering just beyond the reach of his 
memory.

"How?" McCoy was shocked. "Weren't Agnes and Dr. T'Kan guarding them?"

"They were unaware that the Avari had committed suicide," Dr. Storr 
said. "They are both understandably bewildered."

Kirk nodded at McCoy. "Verify that suicide.  Get Agnes to help." He 
wondered at how quickly he and McCoy had become attached to the 
scientists.

McCoy nodded somberly. "Spock?"

"I'll take care of him," Kirk said, kneeling once again beside 
Spock.  McCoy, apparently reassured, left quickly.

Kreth, Rosenthal and Dr. Storr watched Kirk as he commanded Spock 
with his eyes.

Spock regained his composure during the distraction, and spoke with 
that quiet intensity Kirk always thought could enthrall 
kings. "Captain, the answer to the Avari is not here, not at the 
ship...it is in the crystal ravines, beyond these hills.  We must go."

"The crystal ravines?" Rosenthal sounded surprised. "We've found 
little to report there."

"The answer to the Avari is laying waste to their cities and their 
hills," Kreth said. "That will teach them to start a war."

"They did not start this war," Spock said.

Kreth knelt beside Spock and held him by the shoulders. "Careful, son 
of Sarek.  Are you now saying the Federation did?"

Spock shook his head. "Secrets...secrets from a different time..." He 
concentrated, then moaned, becoming even more pale. "I 
cannot...Jim..."

"Thank you, Mr. Spock." Kirk slapped the Klingon's hands away, and 
turned to Rosenthal, who watched the whole scene solemnly, awkwardly.

"You know where these ravines are," Kirk said.

Rosenthal nodded. "This may be an Avari illusion, Captain.  Or Spock 
has not fully recovered."

"The alternative is," Kirk glanced at Kreth, "something even the 
Avari don't deserve.  Especially if they didn't start this war."

Rosenthal folded his hands. "Of course.  I assume Spock will not be---
"

Spock stood with difficulty. "I must accompany you."

Kirk glared at him, but saw the resolve, felt Spock's determination.  
And he needed Spock.  An instinct he couldn't define told him that he 
needed Spock by his side.

Dr. Storr held Spock's arm.  Spock stiffened and rebuffed his touch.  
Kirk found himself being surprised yet again as Spock and Kreth 
walked together.  Kirk glanced at Rosenthal, smiled and shrugged.

"At least this will be resolved," he said softly, "and we won't have 
any more interruptions.  I can show you the Enterprise.  The view of 
the stars from the observation deck is incredible.  And my cabin has 
a privacy lock."

Rosenthal hesitated, and Kirk dared to tease. "Don't tell me you're 
getting morning-after cold feet.  Not you."

"No, Jim.  It was wonderful." Rosenthal studied him. "I wouldn't have 
thought you'd think of us...our future...now.  I always thought 
starship captains were focused on the goal."

"I am.  So no one, Avari, Vulcan, Human or even Klingon, loses anyone 
else.  Because there will always be war, Ro'zenal.  Which is why 
there must always be love." Kirk turned towards the tent 
opening. "I'm ready when you are.  Lead the way."

Rosenthal nodded, pulled Kirk back, held his face and kissed him, a 
gentle pressure, the sweep of warm wind against Jim's lips.  
Rosenthal didn't look again at Kirk as he led the way.  

Kirk looked back, unsettled by the feel of that kiss...a kiss before 
dying?  Morbid.  He decided he was most unsettled by Dr. Storr, 
following him like a ghoulish shadow.  And by this whole situation.  
The sooner he resolved this, the sooner he could look forward to 
hosting peace talks on the Enterprise...and to spending time with 
Ro'zenal where they wouldn't be interrupted.

That last kiss stained his lips, nagging at his mind.


There will always be war.  

Kirk was right, again.  And he wasn't the first casualty of the 
ongoing war to protect the Federation.  He wouldn't be the last.

There must always be love.

Sloan would do what he would do out of the deepest, most fervent love 
for the Federation.  

He just wasn't sure, for one of the rare times in his career, what he 
would do.

There couldn't be any evidence of the steps he had taken, in this 
time...could there?  Had the crew of the Monitor somehow found their 
way to Avari?  Were they at the ravines?

Damn the timeline.  There was no way to predict what the deaths of 
any of the Monitor's crew could do...several had gone on to serve the 
Federation at critical moments, in battle, in science...but their 
existence was a danger.

The wind shattered against his face like shards of crystal.

Perhaps it was not the crew of the Monitor...but then what could it 
be?  He had stored evidence from the future in the ravines...backup 
in case the campaign didn't go as planned.  Surely Spock hadn't 
learned that from his memories?  Besides, his cache was well-
concealed.

There was one other interesting fact about the ravines.  It was, in 
fact, the reason he had come.  The Section 31 agent in his time had 
found the deposits of ketracel-white there.

But that couldn't be significant here.  Ketracel-white wouldn't 
appear on this world yet.

He held to the rope that Kirk and the others threw over the side of 
the largest ravine, a deep fissure so bright it was like descending a 
white hole rather than a black one.  Slowly, he climbed, impatiently 
brushing the drifting dust from his face.

He blinked, seeing the white particles dance on his eyelashes.

Risking his footing, he took his tricorder and scanned the 
particles.  Fortunately, he'd studied the composition of the ketracel-
white in the files and the samples from present-day Avari.

The particles were the same as present-day Avari.  The ketracel-white 
in the files, however...

The epiphany made him stumble, and he desperately clung to the rope, 
but friction and momentum were not on his side.  His hands slipped 
from the rope, and he fell into the ravine.

The feeling of falling wasn't as horrifying as the feeling in his 
stomach.

My God...


"My God, Ro'zenal!"

Kirk saw the man slip, dangle crazily, and plummet.  Storr, who was 
just below Rosenthal, reached out, grasped the man's vest, and was 
ripped from the safety of his own position.  The two tumbled out of 
sight.

Kirk increased his descent, and Spock, below, shimmied down the rope 
like a natural acrobat.  Kreth, above Kirk, growled and crawled over 
Kirk.  The not-unpleasant but overpowering Klingon musk left Kirk 
disoriented, but he increased his pace and climbed over Kreth.  He 
made his way toward Spock, who grabbed his tunic.

"Spock, I appreciate your concern, but I'm not going to fall."

"My concern is legitimate, Captain.  You will not help them by being 
reckless." Spock's grip tightened in a way that Kirk would swear was 
possessive if this weren't his first officer. "We will more 
efficiently aid them by climbing together."

Kirk impatiently bowed to logic, and for good measure, grabbed 
Kreth's belt.

"What do you think you are doing, Kirk?" Kreth growled. "Is your 
little scientist not enough for you?"

"We're losing time," Kirk yelled back. "We'll make better time 
combining our strength."

"Let it be known in your Federation logs that this day a Klingon was 
your strength," Kreth boasted as they climbed, creating a surprising 
synergy of Human, Vulcan and Klingon.

"Fine, you get all the credit." Kirk closed his eyes and thought of 
the true source of his strength.  The Enterprise.  Spock.

Ro'zenal.

What had caused him to fall so drastically?

When Spock looked up at him, Kirk realized he'd spoken aloud. "Yes, 
Spock?"

"Captain," Spock shouted above the rising wind in the narrows of the 
ravine. "I noted Doctor Rosenthal pausing to scan with his tricorder 
as he climbed.  Shortly afterwards, he slipped.  I saw his face 
before his mishap.  He looked stunned."

"What did he find and what the hell was he doing scanning with the 
tricorder?" Kirk shouted.

"An excellent question, one I trust he will be alive to answer," 
Spock said.

"If he's not, I'll kill him," Kirk growled.


Sloan hobbled to his feet, his body shaken, bruised and feeling as 
crushed as a watermelon thrown off a truck.  He was, thankfully, 
alive, standing at the bottom of the windless ravine, in a cavern of 
crystal that reflected him from every wall.

As luck would have it, this was also the ravine that contained his 
cache from the future.  He'd already been down this way before.  
Using his tricorder, he located the cache behind the wall of 
crystal.  Using his phaser, he cracked the crystal just enough to 
poke his phaser through and blast away.  The thin screams of melting 
metal and circuitry made him feel satisfied, in control.

"A most logical move.  You need no more evidence to continue what you 
have begun."

Sloan slowly moved, turning around, watching himself pivot, watching 
the tableau of two figures: one blond Human and one short, dumpy, 
unremarkable-looking Vulcan.

"It is pointless to deny your mission," Dr. Storr said. "Or pretend 
that you are Abraham Rosenthal."

Was this, Sloan wondered, how Jim felt when the Organians revealed 
themselves?  Fooled twice, shame on me?  Maneuvered into something he 
really didn't understand?

He carried a hypo with him in case of such an emergency.  Swiftly, he 
rushed Storr and pressed the hypo to his neck, then danced away and 
emptied the hypo's contents into a clear vial.

The green Vulcan blood congealed quickly and transformed into a 
golden shimmering substance.

Dr. Storr was a Founder, a leader of the Dominion.

Sloan pocketed the hypo and vial while he watched his nemesis from 
the future.  He put out his hand and collected the white crystal dust.

"That is native to this planet," the Storr-duplicate said. "We 
enhanced its properties to become the prototype ketracel-white.  
Unfortunately, it did not enslave the Jem'Hadar or the Avari.  But it 
has other uses.  It deceived your scientists.  And we placed real 
ketracel-white on the planet in the future, also in this time." He 
smiled tightly. "In case you needed more convincing."

"The Avari would never have gone to your side." Sloan took his own 
words to Kirk to heart and did not think of all the people who could 
have died because of his folly.  The people who had died.  The Avari 
were innocent, and the Klingons...

The inspiration to stop the war came quickly.

"Because I came to convince them to join us," he said. "It never 
occurred to me that you would follow.  But now that you have---"

"I am not a fool, human."

"Oh, but you are.  You risk being revealed as a Founder." Sloan 
grabbed the flare from the Founder's belt. "I can have the Avari here 
in seconds."

"And also your human friends.  They may believe your deception...but 
will you risk your future?"

"Risk is our business," Sloan said with a brashness that felt genuine.

"And destroying the Federation is mine." 

The Founder fired at Sloan, who dropped and rolled right toward him.  
The Founder escaped with morphogenic agility.  Sloan fired the flare, 
and watched the walls turn the red of an open mouth ready to devour 
him.  As long as it got the Founder first.

He felt sick at being so easily manipulated, and more, he felt what 
he had trained himself not to acknowledge...the sense of profound 
wrongness.  Of the evil that men do.

It was all right, here.  He could indulge it.  Because he was on the 
right side.

"You can't destroy us," he said softly, his voice making water-glass 
harmonies against the crystal.

"Once the Avari draw the Federation into their war, I will continue 
to encourage Federation deaths." The Founder fired again.  Sloan 
wondered if he could shapeshift at all, here...otherwise, why didn't 
he just change and make his kill?

Kirk looked glorious against the red background, climbing down into 
view, but the Founder's borrowed dark Vulcan eyes were fixed on Sloan.

"I don't think I heard you correctly," Sloan said softly.

"Your hearing is not impaired.  Would you enjoy hearing just how many 
Avari and Federation and Klingons will die?" The Founder pressed the 
phaser to his neck.

A sizzling stunbeam hit the Founder, who toppled to the ground, but 
did not revert to his Changeling shape.

Kirk, phaser hefted, stood with Kreth and Spock flanking him.  An 
indescribable something moved between Kirk and Sloan on seeing each 
other.

"He was working on the databanks," Sloan said quietly. "He discovered 
the Monitor.  He showed Kreth the information we recovered...I wonder 
just how adept he is at forgery."

"We will find out." Spock, especially, seemed affronted.

"It's over," Kirk said quietly. "We know who started this war.  You 
were right, Doctor.  It wasn't your group.  It was just one rotten 
green apple."

"Do not be so hasty, Kirk." Kreth stepped toward Sloan. "Thieves and 
criminals often turn against each other."

Sloan drew his inspiration from Kirk.  He knelt before Kreth.

"My life, my honor in your hands." He looked up at the Klingon.  
Strange, how history portrayed him as taller.  In Sloan's eyes, he 
did look commanding, a man of stature.  But then, wasn't the universe 
made of illusions?

"Just remember my name, and say I died well," he continued.

Kreth stared and then laughed, whacking Sloan again.  This time, 
Sloan remained still and upright.

"Well done, Ro'zenal." Kreth turned and spat on Storr. "Let us deal 
with this Vulcan peTaq."

Kirk crossed to Sloan and extended his hand. "Seeing you kneeling 
seems so unnatural."

Sloan rose, letting his hand linger in Kirk's. "This won't be easy, 
you know.  Storr probably didn't act alone."

"We'll find out who and why," Kirk said quietly. "All of them.  And 
then---"

Sloan smiled, not wanting to say the words. "Seize the moment." His 
eyes caught a liquid motion, and cursed the limitation of the stun 
setting.  The Founder rose with his phaser.

"We both doom the Federation," the Founder said, pointing the phaser 
at Kreth.

Sloan felt the implant in his brain, the ticking of the internal 
clock.  He had six hours left before he was recalled to the present.

He didn't need six hours.

There was only now.

He rushed at the Founder and grabbed the phaser, setting it to 
overload...

It wasn't a hero's death.

The real hero stood in this room, and would win his way past death to 
complete his destiny.  To make the rules and the hard choices.  

They were alike.  Now more so than ever.

"RO'ZENAL!"

Kirk's smile and that last embrace consumed his mind as the white and 
red engulfed him, and crystal rained upon him with its sweet kiss.


Captain's Log, Supplemental:
The Klingons have left Avari but will patrol the sector with 
Federation ships, since we suspect there may have been Romulan 
involvement in this conflict.  Federation observers will remain 
behind to deal with the effects of the war.  The Estrella Institute 
has recalled its team.  It has said nothing about Doctor Abraham 
Rosenthal, whose heroic act of sacrifice saved countless Human, 
Klingon, Vulcan and Avari lives.

"Computer, delete last sentence."

He swirled the amber brandy in his glass and propped his feet on his 
desk.  He leaned back as weariness overtook him.  He tasted 
bitterness on his tongue, as gravelly as the small vial of black ash 
on his desk.  The black ash was the only memorial to a great 
sacrifice.

It was as Rosenthal had told him.  The Institute didn't like 
controversy.  In fact, they claimed Rosenthal and Storr hadn't been 
near Avari.

At least Kreth had the decency to remember Rosenthal.

In the cavern a week ago, as Kirk and Spock knelt, sifting the ashes, 
Kreth gently pried open Rosenthal's eyes.  He opened his mouth and 
bellowed.  The echo carried out of the ravine and bounced off 
crystal, creating a purity of sound that made everyone still.

"What was that?" Kirk asked when the ethereal ripples subsided. "A 
cry for help?"

"That, Kirk, was a warrior's cry for the honored dead, who died 
nobly, and to send them on to Sto-Vo-Kor." Kreth chuckled 
grimly. "'Remember my name,' he said.  So it will be.  All Klingons 
will remember the name Ro'zenal." Kreth was silent.  Then, "He had 
the heart of a warrior."

Kirk nodded quietly, reveling in the shared moment of tribute, 
astonished at his connection with Kreth.  His communicator ended his 
communion with the Klingon and with the divine that even he had to 
acknowledge.

"Enterprise to Kirk."

"Kirk here."

"Captain, we detected your flares.  We would have returned sooner, 
but we discovered the crew of the U.S.S. Horizon stranded on a nearby 
planet." Uhura's voice reassured him. "They say a strange, raven-like 
vessel appeared out of the stars and got a tractor beam on their 
ship.  They crash-landed with emergency escape pods."

"Thank you, Lieutenant.  I'll be beaming up shortly." Kirk rubbed his 
forehead as he closed his communicator.

"You do know what this means, Kirk," Kreth said, glancing at 
Spock. "And so do you."

Spock nodded. "I believe Dr. Storr may have been a Romulan 
operative." 

"Romulan dogs." Kreth spat. "We thought they had been too silent 
lately."

It made sense.  Although Kirk had no proof, there was a clarity of 
logic in the conclusion.  No Vulcan would cause such suffering.  
Vulcan had nothing to gain from a war between the Federation and the 
Klingons.  The Romulans did.  Who else could have attacked the 
Monitor and transported the ship here?  

"Can we tell anything from his remains?" he asked quietly.

Spock shook his head. "The meshing of Dr. Rosenthal's organic matter 
with Dr. Storr's guarantees that we will not find Romulan DNA.  There 
is barely enough of them left."

"I want a sample," Kirk ordered.

Spock lifted an eyebrow, but produced a small vial from his belt and 
collected the ash from the explosion.

Kreth sniffed the dust swirling in the air. "I do not know this 
strange white substance."

Spock scanned it quickly. "An interesting but unknown composition."

"The Romulans were after more than that," Kirk said quietly. "They 
wanted to claim this corridor of space.  Divide and conquer." He 
stared at the silent walls. "We can't prove it...we can't accuse 
anybody.  But we know the truth."

"The truth will be written in their blood, Kirk," Kreth assured 
him. "They will not escape Klingon justice.  We will send them to 
Gre'thor--where the dishonored go when they die."

In the hours before the Enterprise left Avari, Kirk felt closer to 
the Klingon than he did anyone.  McCoy and Spock avoided discussing 
Rosenthal's death, and both looked uncomfortable when the Avari 
offered words of sympathy during the signing of the truce between 
Avari, the Klingon Empire and the Federation.  

After the ceremony, Kreth requested a meeting with Kirk aboard the 
R'keth.  Kirk had never boarded a Klingon vessel.  Kreth's soldiers 
transported him quickly.  His transporter felt like a rather pleasant 
tickling.  The Klingon transporters made him feel caught in static 
electricity.  

The corridors were dark except for eerie green and ochre lighting.  
He tried to commit the design of their ship to memory, recorded with 
his nostrils the smell of pungent sweat and beets.  The Klingon 
escort pressed a control and pushed Kirk inside.

The quarters had no decoration save a wicked-looking weapon on the 
walls with three sharp metal prongs.  Kirk recalled that it was a 
bat'leth.  There were no scalps or heads of Kreth's trophies.  There 
was only a flat sheet of metal that Kirk assumed grimly was Kreth's 
bed.

Kreth stood before an altar, lighting slim, elegant black candles.  
He looked over his shoulder and shook his hair back. "Kirk.  Join me."

Kirk, not questioning, moved to stand beside him.  Kreth began 
rapidly chanting in his own language.  Kirk sensed that his 
participation was expected, so he started chanting as well.  His 
pronunciation was poor up until the final two words: "K'esh'tu 
Ro'zenal."

The words came out of his throat in pure guttural Klingon, with 
passion and power and remembrance.

Kreth handed the black candles to him, and Kirk decisively 
extinguished them with his thumb and forefinger.  He did not feel the 
flame.

"You do me great honor," Kirk said.

Kreth moved to one of the only major pieces of furniture, a barrel, 
and "tapped" it to produce dark red liquid in two metal tankards.  He 
handed one to Kirk and raised the tankard.

Kirk chugged back a gulp, then gasped, but felt better than he had in 
hours even though his throat burned.

"Blood wine, 2201.  A fine vintage," Kreth said. "Worthy for 
celebrating."

Kirk smiled slightly. "Somehow, I think Ro'zenal would find that 
fitting."

"I have heard that the pale hollow gutless soulless beings who call 
themselves scientists deny his very existence."

"Your intelligence is better than we thought.  Or gossip travels at 
warp speed."

Kreth downed his blood wine and refilled the tankard. "Ah, Kirk, it 
is always thus.  Most beings...most Terrans...allow someone else to 
tell them what their heart's song is.  They proceed through life, 
knowing neither victory nor defeat, great love or great sorrow.  They 
allow others to set the beating of their hearts, and in time, they do 
not realize that their hearts have ceased to beat.  They cannot 
understand those who live by their own heart's song.  They fear them."

"We only knew each other one day," Kirk said, staring into the blood 
wine.

"Time is indifferent when you know the rhythms of your heart," Kreth 
said.

Kirk remembered what Natira, high priestess of Yonada, had reportedly 
told McCoy: "Before you came, my heart was empty.  Now, it sings.  I 
could live with that feeling for a day, a week...a year."

"I never want to regret not doing," he said, refilling his own 
tankard.

Kreth slapped him soundly, and Kirk choked down blood wine.  Kreth 
laughed at Kirk's face. "The fire is yours, Kirk.  The pain is 
yours.  They are the only possessions you truly own.  You understand 
that.  Ro'zenal understood, as well.  So do we in the Empire.  That 
is why, despite all the treaties and your diplomats, you and I will 
meet in battle again one day."

"Maybe." Kirk raised his eyes to Kreth's. "But I'm here on your ship, 
drinking blood wine after I participated in your death ritual to 
honor a Terran.  I think we're making progress."

"You have not completed the ritual," Kreth said with a serious 
expression.

Kirk bent his head back and howled.  The echo was glorious, all 
around him, inside the Klingon ship.  In that howl, he could hear his 
heart's song.


The song echoed in his ears, back in his cabin, until he realized the 
song was the flat treble of his door chime, ringing as it had for who 
knew how long.

"Come in."

Spock, hands behind his back as usual, entered.  Kirk sat properly in 
his chair and drank the last of his brandy.

"Captain, I have the crew efficiency report." Spock produced a 
PADD. "It is satisfactory."

"We'll frame it and hang it on the wall." Kirk read over the report.  
He had no complaints with and only commendations for his crew.  He 
signed the report briskly and handed it to Spock. "What's on your 
mind?  This could have waited until our next bridge shift.  Are 
you...all right?"

"I have long since recovered from my seizure."

Spock paused, and seemed fascinated by the vial on the desk.  Kirk 
deflected his study with a direct gaze.

"He didn't have any family," Kirk said quietly. "T'Kan and Sessions 
didn't know him that well.  I assumed the role of next of kin."

Spock nodded, and steepled his hands.  Then, he said, "I grieve with 
thee."

Kirk stood, and closed the distance between them by leaping over the 
desk.  He mirrored the placement of Spock's hands.

"I do this every time, Spock," he said 
hoarsely. "Edith...Miramanee...Ro'zenal.  It's fleeting, and 
precious, and it rips my insides out for days.  Even McCoy can't mend 
me.  But I do it every time.  Because there must always be love."

Spock nodded, and raised two fingers pressed together to Kirk's.  It 
was a duplicate of a gesture Sarek had made with Spock's mother 
Amanda.

Kirk felt the pull of now, of friendship, of a new chance opening, a 
chance that didn't diminish his grief, but reminded him that he was 
still alive.

He made his own rules.  And his rule now was to honor Ro'zenal by 
living as largely as he could.

His two fingers caressed Spock's with a touch full of meaning.

Spock moved then to kiss him, and the torrent of emotion that 
traveled from Spock to Kirk left no room for hesitation.  Kirk knew 
how deep his loyalty and love for Spock ran...beyond reason, beyond 
duty, worth risking career and heart for...worth it every time.  As 
Kirk grasped Spock's shoulders, caressing, moving down his back, he 
whispered sacred blessings and disjointed prayers.  Then, Spock 
transmuted the prayers into moans of most profound ecstasy as he 
placed his hands on Kirk's face as he had done before.  He reached...


Over a century later, inside darkened quarters, a slumbering Luther 
Sloan jerked upright, spilling his brandy.  He was tired, but 
instantly alert.  His body felt as if two beings, locked in the most 
primal emotions, dwelled within.

<Jim...

Spock.>

He used every ounce of his Vulcan training and Section 31 
conditioning, plus his own innate discipline, to still their voices 
and their emotions.

They continued to link with him, unknowingly, for Spock couldn't 
remember the mind-meld...

<Ro'zenal.>

That was Jim.

Then: <Luther.> Spock.

He shielded himself as best he could by concentrating on 0230 that 
morning, when he reported to his fellow Director, J'Ress, a Caitian 
physician and the descendant of a lieutenant who had served with 
distinction aboard the Enterprise.  

The briefing happened less than two hours after his neural implant 
registered the phaser hit and pulled him back through time.  Just 
another timely escape, and now he returned to his regular life of 
details...such as debriefings and performance reviews. 

"We participated in another expedition to Avari while you were away, 
Director Sloan." Director J'Ress showed him the still image on her 
computer console.  The image was of a crystal monument with 
Federation Standard, Klingonese and Avari etched in strong letters.  
J'Ress enhanced the image to show one word:

RO'ZENAL.

"I made detailed notes in my report," Sloan said calmly. "The 
Klingons called me that."

"The Klingons came to know you well." J'Ress changed the image to a 
stone monument on Qi'pa, the colony where Kreth had spent his time 
away from the Klingon High Council.  The name Ro'zenal was etched 
into the stone on Kreth's estate.

J'Ress called up a Klingonese song and made sure Sloan could read the 
title: "The Song of Kirk and Ro'zenal."

Sloan watched her tail wave in the air. "It's only a legend, a 
fiction.  Captain Kirk's log got no attention, and the Estrella 
Institute sealed all its files.  As far as we know, the scientist who 
founded it hid them after the Institute closed its doors.  So 
Ro'zenal could have been anyone.  We can't assume that we can always 
avoid interacting with history.  In fact, we can't avoid it.  The key 
is to see that we have as little effect as possible.  Good or bad."

J'Ress considered him in a sphinx pose. "I suppose it's not as 
damaging as Captain Benjamin Sisko accidentally getting Gabriel Bell 
killed.  It's a wonder no one's noticed the resemblance between the 
historical photo of Bell and Sisko's likeness.  Besides...we did 
learn that a few embarrassing incidents in the Federation's history 
with the Klingons, and some Romulan threats, never happened thanks to 
the events on Avari." She smiled toothily. "Typical of you.   You 
take a complete risk and end up coming out smelling like 
honeyflowers."

"It was a near miss," Sloan said. "We now know the Dominion knows 
about us.  They understood that the ketracel-white prototype native 
to Avari would raise our suspicions."

J'Ress ground her fangs together so tightly it was a wonder she 
didn't have a headache. "Your expert, Doctor Bashir, called 
it 'fool's ketracel' after the Defiant's recent visit."

Sloan ground his own teeth, but looked stern. "We let Doctor Bashir 
go too easily.  We could have avoided this mission.  We'll have to 
rethink our approach to his recruitment."

"Yes...later." J'Ress smiled. "And we will deal with the Dominion.  
In the meantime...take some time off.  Doctor's orders." She laughed 
at his expression. "I've always wanted to say that."

"I'll be in my quarters." Sloan hadn't expected any difficulties.  
J'Ress was only doing her job in peer-reviewing his mission.  But he 
hadn't realized how relieved he would feel...and how empty.

Useless fancy.  The best thing for it was sleep.

As he left, J'Ress said, "I've always been fascinated by the original 
Enterprise."

"Because of your ancestor?"

"Because of James Kirk." J'Ress purred words in her language that 
sounded concupiscent. "I would have volunteered, but you beat me to 
it.  Your report said little about him personally, 
except 'Distraction by seduction successful.  Gained Kirk's 
unconditional trust, which helped in completing the mission.'"

Sloan had to laugh at her imitation of his no-nonsense 
demeanor. "What more did you want?"

"Details."

"When I write my memoir, you'll get all the details you want.  Then, 
I'll have to kill you." Sloan turned toward the door. "If you'll 
excuse me, I'll be following doctor's orders."


Spock and Kirk cried out passionately in his blood, obliterating 
every thought.  Sloan rose from his chair.  In the dark privacy of 
his quarters, he gave in to the emotions sent through the 
inexplicable link with Spock.  Slowly, sensually, he began to move in 
a dance that had no beginning, no end, no goal or purpose.  There was 
only the passion of Kirk and Spock, the bittersweet mourning for what 
was lost and gained, and the vicarious bliss of feeling Kirk's 
sublime happiness through Spock.

He did not rest, but danced as he had never danced in his life, 
dancing an orgasm of the mind, heart and soul that must *never* 
happen again, because no Section 31 agent could possibly feel this 
more than once and still remain dispassionate.

Maybe it was because he was dispassionate that when he finally took 
his advice to Kirk and seized the moment, he let go...all the 
way...with all that he was.

Tomorrow, he would go back to analysis and details and biographies, 
projections and stratagems, bribery and manipulation.  Tomorrow, he 
would continue the constant, eternal war to protect the Federation.  
But today, he would consecrate and celebrate feeling.

There will always be war...


"So there must always be love."

Kirk whispered the words in Spock's ears, and for a moment, Ro'zenal, 
smiling, appeared in both their minds.  Then, Kirk took hold of the 
moment, and of Spock, giving himself over completely.



The one rule Kirk lived by was the one rule that Sloan could never, 
ever break.

There will always be war.

There must always be love.