***Zorakk

Future Shock
Third version

Chapter One
Of Boys and Ggaahhh

First part
Xartoz

– with apologies to © holder of "GUNSMOKE"

<< ONE >>

A century ago Syftilius Minor had held great promise, as the closest M-class planet to the warp gate. As first the Khitamurr Accords were negotiated between the Komerex Klingon and the Terran Empire in the late 23rd century by the demi-god race, the Organians, it looked as though the Triangle Sector would become an important galactic cross-roads for the three stellar superpowers in this area of the galaxy. However at the height of speculation and feverish investment by off-world corporations on Syftilius Minor, the Organians withdrew suddenly and without notice. Almost immediately relations between the Komerex Klingon and the Terran Empire began to deteriorate, The Triangle Sector became not only important to the three major powers, but strategic. hugh volumes of space were littered with hyperspace mines and were far too dangerous for civilian craft to navigate. Syftilius Minor was not a rich world, it had only the expected amounts of heavy metals and radioactives, and virtually no exotic biota that could be parlayed into a pharmaceutical fortune; but now it had an enormous planetary debt. Off world investment on Syftilius dried up like a lake in a desert. Now, the primary occupations on Syftilius Minor were farming and gas-mining. On the eve of its bicentennial, Syftilius Minor was a squalid slum world with a huge planetary debt and little of interest to the rest of the Galaxy. Living conditions on the planet had steadily gone down-hill and its population remained remarkably provincial and puerile.

Pete Reynolds, 34, 1.87 meters [6"2'], 98 kilograms [216 lbs], black hair and brown eyes; Star Nomad Free Trader, and like most of the Nomads in the galaxy, after nearly 300 years of interbreeding with the fifty or so other alien human races that could produce viable embryos with Terran humans, Pete was an exotic mixture of racial and ethnic types. Pete called himself a Terran, although a little less than half his genetic make up was Klingon, in fact he came close to the biological-legal definition of a Klingon-Human fusion.

The young Star Nomad made his living as a gypsy trucker, an owner-operator of an interstellar truck built on a modified Star Fleet 'Danube-class' runabout frame. The burly Star Nomad merchant hauled various cargo between the stars for a profit. This trip, although it had taken him to his least favorite world, had been profitable. He had just made a delivery of industrial grade DeneBryan Flame Crystals to a shady-looking Orion character with a pair of Nausican body guards in the warehouse district of the starport city, Port Sythe. It seemed the deal was somehow extra-legal, and that the Orion Syndicate was involved – though how he couldn't imagine, DeneBryan Flame Crystals were pretty, and were semi-precious stones, but payment had been in the form of a brick of gold-pressed Latinum. A Brick of Latinum should have bought the Orion a lot more.

The free and easy way that the low-level gangster had given up the latinum when Pete produced the still sealed case of crystal led the young Nomad to the conclusion that the Crystals had only been camouflage for something a lot more valuable. No doubt about it, Pete Reynolds thought, Syftilius Minor was the armpit of he galaxy. Pete was deliriously happy to have made as much as he had on this transaction. Those who dealt very frequently with the Orion Syndicate tended to attract a lot of unwanted attention on both sides of the Federation-Klingon boarder and Pete was anxious not to become too involved with shady deals.

So why in the name of Fekk-lar was he still standing here, wasting valuable time? He began the long hike through weed-choked vacant lots, back toward the city's starport. On to Trader Edars's, he grinned, Trader Edar's was a combination speakeasy and casino adjacent to the starport where the local Port Captain usually held court. Any cargo leaving Syftilius Minor would first funnel through the office of the Customs Inspector – who worked for – that's right, the Port Captain. On small frontier worlds like Syftilius the Port Captain decided which ship hauled which cargo. Pete's truck being rather limited in capacity to transport agro-goods, he was hoping there was a mailbag or two headed in system that would pay for his propellant bill here at Port Sythe.

After fifteen minutes of negotiating the mud and snow-slush of of the field, the Nomad emerged onto the rough road, rudely paved with crushed rock and permaplast, which led back into Port Sythe's business district. Wires and opticord stretched loosely between wooden or plastic insulators hung from eight meter tall wooden poles, every third one of which had a halogen-laser lamp hung from it as a street light. About one in five of these were still operational. Wet, decomposing cardboard and other assorted detritus and trash was liberally mixed with the soot-strained slush of the last snow storm, and covered about a third of the paved area. The plows had pushed it up into two-foot high mounds on either side of the roadway.

As he walked, he considered his options. The Star Nomad trucker grinned, at Trader Edar's there would be good hot food – no doubt about it, the sodbusters knew how to eat, and dished up hearty portions of it. In addition to the food and a cup of the local chocolate drink, there was perhaps a chance to pick up a paying cargo headed back in toward the Core Worlds, where the real money was to be made. Not that a brick of Gold-plated latinum was not 'real' money, Pete smiled openly this time as he patted the leather currency carrier buried deep within his flight suit.

Latinum was a strange substance. Element number 113 on the periodic table, it is metallic and a liquid at a wide range of temperatures from 270 to 415 Kelvin. It could be used in a wide variety of electro-psionic applications because of its high psionic permeability, but it is too rare in its natural state, and far too expensive to replicate. That's why Latinum has become the standard of galactic exchange between those without direct access to one the galactic finances webs. Sealed inside a relatively worthless gold exterior to confine its liquid nature, Latinum was available in three hierarchical levels, each containing 100 times as much Latinum as the one below it. The slip was the base unit, and looked rather like a tiny ingot of gold, 3 x 1 x 1 centimeter [1-1/8 x 3/8 x 3/8 inches]. A bar of Latinum was 7 x 2 x 1 centimeters [2¾ x ¾ x 3/8 inches], while a brick was 20 x 8 x 4 centimeters [8 x 3 x 1½ inches] and weighed 4.7 kilograms [10 lbs].

Slips of Latinum were the common everyday denominations, somewhat akin to the Federation 20 stellar note, while bars were used in major transactions. Few ever saw a brick of Latinum because there were few things that were valuable enough to rate such a thing – and again Pete had that strange tickling feeling at the base of his skull that told him there had been much more than Flame Gems involved in his recent transaction and that he should stop these 'extra' trips for Quark. The Ferengi always seemed to be in trouble with the authorities, but the pay rate was spectacular. Pete would realize an above operations cost profit of almost three bars of Latinum. Even if Quark's consignment cargos always were more than they seemed, Pete decided, he would not be able to resist the profit ratio of the deals.

Trader Edar's Bar and Grill was located just across a wide blacktop road from the Class C. starport which served the agro-world of Syftilius Minor, one of the so-called Free Worlds that were sprinkled liberally through out the human-explored volume of the Triangle Sector. These worlds joined no over governments, and owed no allegiances to any of the huge multi-stellar empires. And in turn could expect little but words and belated humanitarian aid in case of war or other natural disaster.

The outer storm door to the bar's entry alcove opened, admitting the shriek of a landing ship's atmospheric drives as it settled to its birth on the landing ramp; and drawing all eyes toward it. A blast of icy, bitterly-cold wind from the winter prairie outside buffeted at the Star Nomad as snow began to fall once again out of the pewter-sky. Pete turned to the flimsy interior door and pushed it open to the bar-n-grill's entry alcove and a blast of alcohol-laden, hot, damp and stale air assailed him. He unsealed his worn Terran Imperial Marines field jacket and let it hang open on his shoulders. Pushing open the bar's inner swing-doors, he quickly surveyed the dim 500 square meters of interior floorspace. The room was crowded with an eclectic mix of locals and off-worlders, both humanoid and exotics. The noise was nearly deafening and the stench overwhelming.

"Reynolds! you old pahTOK!" The Klingon accented voice cut through the background 100 db babble of the bar, and Pete saw an old friend coming through the crowd.

"Kha-plaugh Kah'Quiopat," Pete greeted his old friend in the traditional Klingon way, by grabbing his shoulders and banging heads with the lanky seven-foot tall Imperial Race warrior.

"Come, share my table. I have someone I want you to meet." Pete followed the Imperial Klingon as he wove his way through tables crowded with aliens of varying descriptions, but remarkably as vastly different as their exterior forms were, they all had the familiar carbon-based chemistry and breathed oxygen.

"This is Xartoz, son of Maartoz." Kah'Quiopat rumbled, indicating a small but powerfully built Klingon human-fusion boy. "He is my apprentice and foster. Both Pete and Kah'Quiopat were boylovers. Klingon boylovers did not face all the challenges in their culture that the Terran did, and in fact Kah'quiopat was highly regarded for his ability to relate and pass on the complexities of Klingon culture to the younger generation.

The young Klingon was perhaps the equivalent of a human ten year old, but with Klingons it was hard to tell, he might have been as young as eight or as old as thirteen. His body was slim and athletic, his black hair was pulled back in a tight warrior's knot at the base of his skull, and from there hung braided down to his mid back. His eyes were by far the most riveting thing about him, jade green, and seemingly illuminated from within by the fires of his soul. He would be a warrior to be reckoned with when he reached the age of ascension.

"Kha-plaugh, son of Maartoz," Pete greeted the boy.

"My Lord does undeserved honor to this unworthy one," the boy said softly and looked hard at Pete's belt buckle.

Pete sat down and glanced inquiringly at Kah'Quiopat, who nodded slightly. Pete pulled the small 4'9" 75 pound boy into his lap. "So. Tell me of your honors, Xartoz," Pete said, shifting from the more formal 'Son of Maartoz' to the boy's given name.

"I would much rather hear of yours, Milord," the boy said politely.

The youngster playfully clutched at Pete's crotch and the Nomad responded by tickling the boy.

"Ho, Kah'Quiopat! I see your foster is not shy!" Pete laughed.

"Indeed not!" Kah'Quiopat laughed and then growled a few words in Klingon to the boy. The youngster responded by crawling off Pete's lap and going over to Kah'Quiopat and stood in front of him. The Klingon unfastened a few snaps, and the boy stood at attention, with his pants around his ankles. While Pete and Kah'Quiopat were admiring the young Klingon boy, a group of local rednecks gathered around the table.

"Look't Festus," one of the goombahs said. "We got us some sure-enough child molesters here."

Kah'Quiopat made a signal to Xartoz and the boy quickly redressed. The big local, about seven-feet tall, identified as Festus got right in Kah'Quiopat's face and drawled: "Y'all like nekkid little boys – huh offworlder?"

Kah'Quiopat shoved him away and stood, hand brushing against the sheathed Lev'ek dagger. "Ho, dog! You, a resident of this ball of dung dare to speak to me, a Klingon warrior thus?"

There was instantly total silence in the bar'n'grill as the two giants stood face to face, less than forty centimeters apart.

He turned to Pete, ignoring Kah'Quiopat. "We don't hold with that stuff here, off-worlder."

"Indeed," Pete added, also standing and letting the Optronics atomic blaster pistol in his belt be visible. Xartoz was in a combat stance also with his Lev'ek drawn and the three blades deployed.

"Do not turn away from ME weed-eater," Kah'Quiopat grabbed Festus from behind.

The local goombah whirled into a combat stance and took a swing at Kah'Quiopat.

"Ahh," Kah'Quiopat sighed. "Now you are speaking as a man!" The Klingon reached out, grabbed the goombah's vest and rammed his bony skull against the human's head. There was a sound like a squashing melon and the Klingon tossed Festus' limp body aside. Kah'Quiopat snarled out at the rest of the bar, daring someone else to advance against him. Though there were no takers, there was an under current of hate and fear that was almost visible in the air as a large red and black thunderhead over the crowd of sodbusters.

"Come on, old friend," Pete said extending his hand to the Klingon warrior, relaxed and palm up, a show of submission in Klingon body language.

Kah'Quiopat snarled once at the bar in general, "What cowards! I wouldn't want to be caught dead in a place like Port Sythe."

From somewhere in the shadows a single voice suggested that in that case it might not be a good idea to hang around long.

Pete laid a restraining hand upon Kah'Quiopat's forearm and muttered a few carefully chosen words of Klingonaasse to him and the Klingon Warrior allowed his friend to pull him out of the bar and into the storm outside. The snow had turned to a kind of sleet and hail. The trio began to walk down to the gates to the Starport, a block and a half away.

"Cursed weather!" Kah'Quiopat swore. "I hate Syftilius Minor!"

"Armpit of the galaxy," Pete grinned. Xartoz laughed, his arm around Kah'Quiopat's waist.

The older Klingon laughed also and hugged his special friend's small shoulders. "Yes, the sooner we are away from this cess-pit the better."

"Why are you here?" Pete asked pointedly.

"Ggaahhh, my Terran friend. The food of the gods."

"Yuck!" Pete made a face. "You mean ggaahhh, worm-larvae eaten live in a sauce that tastes like motor oil?"

Xartoz again laughed heartily. "You have no stomach, TerRot'non?" the little boy asked playfully.

Pete grinned and reached out to give the young Klingon boy's warrior's lock a soft tug, a familiarity the boy allowed because of Pete's friendship with his quigon'Zhaik, a word that meant many things, among them friend, lover and mentor.

"Not for ggaahhh, my little friend," Pete said.

"But ggaahhh is why I am here. Horrible as I find the climate here on Syftilius Minor," Kah'Quiopat went on, "The ggaahhh worms love it and their offspring have an exotic tang to them much valued by my people. It comes from burrowing through the alien sewage and refuge of this gods-forsaken cosmic cinder."

"Makes them sound even more appetizing," Pete groaned as they reached the starport main gate and produced their id for the pol-rob security droid on duty at the gate.

"Thank you gentlemen," the droid's metallic voice said as the interior chicken-wire gate slid open for them.

"However these ggaahhh larvae obtain it, they have a gourmet taste, and command gourmet prices 3;"

Kah'Quiopat continued.

"Uh – let me guess," Pete said grinning. "Here you are with some number of tons of ggaahhh in bio-suspension and no way to get them back to the home world 3;"

"Not exactly the home world," Kah'Quiopat said. "Kolandan Cor. A line brother of mine has a Klingon restaurant there and I owe him a favor 3; but you are correct. I am sorely in need of transportation for Xartoz, the ggaahhh and myself to Kolandan Cor."

Pete smiled widely. "You are in luck, my Klingon friend. Dream Walker can handle the ggaahhh – they ARE in standard cargo modules?"

"Aye, indeed, the small ones, a meter by a meter by three. Thirty of them."

"No problem then," Pete said. "And since I have just made a very big score here, and Starbase 288 [which is very close to Kolandan Cor] is my next stop on the way to Bajor, I will tote you and your ggaahhh to Kolandan Cor for the cost of the propellant and the opportunity to take several dozen holographs of Xartoz while you load the ggaahhh."

"I take it these will not be 'school pictures'?" Kah'Quiopat grinned.

"Not unless Xartoz goes to school on either Beowulf or Risa."

"HAH!" The Klingon warrior roared with laughter. Then he turned to his companion and growled something Pete didn't catch in High-Klingonaase to which Xartoz just snorted and nodded once.

"Xartoz will allow your request to take holographs of him. And, Pete – do a good job, I want a set to submit to newsgroup:galaxy.net/ISN/alt.holo.erotic.boys."

"Aw rite, Xartoz!" Pete said giving the Klingon boy a punch on the shoulder. "Going for the 'best of category' award – yes?"

The Klingon youngster blushed and just nodded.

They had arrived at the hanger where Pete's modified Danube-class runabout was parked. Pete walked up to the side of the shuttle and slapped a palm against the hull. "Okay, lcars, open up, we have company."

"Affirmative," the ship's computer replied, cycled open the airlock and extended the gangway for them to enter.

"Okay, Xar, why don't you get onboard and I'll get ole Kah'Quiopat started with the hold.

The Klingon boy nodded and was almost instantly gone. Pete and Kah'Quiopat walked around to the rear cargo doors of the Dream Walker, the Klingon merchant was already on the phone with his cargo storage broker, arranging for the sixty stasis containers to be delivered to Pete's ship.

Kah'Quiopat turned to Pete: "What do you think of the boy?"

"I think he has a lot of potential."

"Yes," Kah'Quiopat murmured. "But he is young, very young to be on his own. He is lineless you know 3;"

"Tough," Pete agreed. Klingons were among the most clannish people in the galaxy. A person's starting position in society was determined by his family: prestigious family members could offer avenues of advancement and contacts. A lineless individual was at a big disadvantage. This coupled with the fact that the Fusion races had lost much of their social and political clout {along with their numbers} during the Kinshaya Wars at the turn of the century meant that Xartoz was going to have to fight for everything, twice as hard as his contemporaries who were members of strong houses or clans. "But what of this 'son of Maartoz' title you introduced him with?"

"Maartoz was my foster brother, he quote/unquote adopted Xar when he found him alone and homeless on the streets of the Imperial City, only days from death by exposure. That was last year. Maartoz's consort feared for the succession of her own because of Xar's favor in Maartoz's gaze. That is how he came to be with me."

"Ah, yes," Pete grinned. "Forced upon you at disruptor point no doubt."

"Filthy Pah'TOC!" Kah'Quiopat swore at Pete playfully, swinging high and wide as Pete easily ducked under the others blow. "But you know I like my boys a bit closer to the Age of Ascension – you're the one who loves the little ones. I've got to go to Kolandan Cor to the slave markets, I hear a shake up in the Romulan Senate has generated a fine crop of child Enemies of the State."

"Speaking of companions, how is K'darahjen doing?" Pete asked.

Kah'Quiopat's eyes misted over for a moment as he thought of his most recent boy-companion, now in the Imperial Navy. "Ahhh, you know how 15-year-olds are, he's too grown-up now to acknowledge me since his Rite of Ascension," Kah'Quiopat snorted, "And of course I still love him more than life. That is why I took on Xartoz so soon, not because of any pressure I felt from my foster — but I must find another for Xar soon. A Romulan boy of eight or nine will make a fine servitor."

"Heh!" Pete chuckled, "You, an Imperial Klingon, Xartoz, a human fusion, and a Romulan kid? You'll make quite a trio on the High Market Street on Klintzha! I'm gonna go start taking those holograms now. We can leave as soon as you finish stowing the ggaahhh."

Pete walked around to the portside airlock, leaving Kah'Quiopat to get the ggaahhh on board – and up the gangplank to the interior of the Dream Walker. When he entered his sleeping quarters, he found Xartoz looking through a stack of porno holograms on the desk. Pete walked up behind the boy and picked up a stack the bot had already been through, going through them quickly. They were the most recent downloads from InfoNet's Boy Lovers Interstellar site and were mostly bondage and sodomy shots of a cute Terran-human eleven or twelve year old, about the same age as Pete had subconsciously assigned to Xartoz; and a tall, naked and masked teenage Romulan slave master – in truth however the 'Romulan' was probably also a Terran teenager in makeup, mostly because Romulan porn of any kind was very difficult to procure, hardly ever posted to the galaxy web, and few if any Vulcans would portray a Romulan for such a project – it'd be illogical. One hologram that Xartoz paused for was of the boy on all fours and the Romulan on his knees with his entire cock in the boy's butt. Xartoz then looked at Pete, his face blushed as he saw the bulge in the Nomad's flight suit and the way his hand was rubbing at it.

"So what do you think?" Pete asked. If the boy was squeamish – or did not have the stomach for the extreme edges of porn, better that Kah'Quiopat knew it now. Klingon sex was brutal rape by any human standard, and this boy looked so human 3;

Pete brought himself to his senses. Xartoz was a Klingon Fusion, and a lineless-boy at that. No doubt he had experienced things in his past that would make these holograms seem rather insipid and childish.

"So," Pete began, "I see you're fascinated with the holograms and what the two people in them are doing 3;"

Xartoz stammered a minute, and asked: "Are you into doing stuff like that with boys?"

Pete nodded his head. "Sometimes," he said, putting an arm around the Klingon boy's waist and pulling him close against him as he sat down on the sofabed. Xartoz had already shed his armored vest and combat suit and was dressed in only a lite tee-shirt and shorts. He looked even more human and very vulnerable in this state.

"You are a little bit young for anal sex, but I can see no reason why we can't message each other and maybe give each other a blow job 3; and who knows: you might enjoy a little play-acting in a bondage script. Many of the best Klingon Operas have scenes where the hero is forced to submit to indignities by his enemies."

"Script? What script?" Xartoz asked.

Pete wrapped both arms around the little boy and pulled his unresisting body down on top of him on the sofabed, so that the boy was sitting in the Spacer's lap. Pete started kissing him on the cheek and the back of neck, and ran his hands all over Xartoz's tummy and his bare thighs.

"You don't think they can just ad-lib those holograms do you? Each takes a lot of time to set up and work through, so that each person knows exactly what the other will be doing 3; it's a lot like a ballet, with really accurate choreography throughout – that way no one is hurt."

"Bah!" Xartoz said, "Sex without pain means nothing 3;"

Pete let that pass, attributing it to cultural differences between Terra and Klintzai. Pete could not enjoy himself knowing that his partner was not completely comfortable with whatever sex game they were playing; this attribute was one of the main reasons that he had been able to endure the rigorous testing and then training course at the Pedophylic Institute on Risa to get his Boy Lover's licence.

"Kah'Quiopat says you want to take some holograms for the web." Pete said.

"Yeh," the young Klingon boy said simply. He seemed nervous now, as though his last comments had somehow offended the Terran Warrior. "I also want to see what it's like to be naked with a TerRot'non-non."

Pete smiled at the youngster, "I think we can arrange that," he said as he began to peal off the boy's t-shirt while Xartoz was just as industriously unzipping Pete's flight suit. Within minutes, they were both in their underpants; with Pete sitting on the couch, with Xartoz kneeling on his thighs facing him.

"Heh! It's down to the last now," Pete said.

"You take off your underpants!" Xartoz commanded.

"Oh, no," Pete said "I'm the grown up here. You are first." Pete's hands had been cupping the cheeks of the Klingon boy's fanny; now in a snake-like quick movement, he transferred his hold to the elastic waistband on the boys underpants and pulled them down around his knees.

From the front neck down, Terran humans and Klingon-human fusions were virtually identical. A close up of Xartoz's uncircumcised wiener and cute little balls would have been impossible to tell from those of a Terran preadolescent boy's.

"No fair!" Xartoz laughed, his prior nervousness gone. He jumped off Pete's lap and kicking off his underpants. "Now you hafta get naked too!"

Laughing, Pete said, "Yes, fair is fair, but that sure was fun watching your face as I jerked down your underpants. It is a crime we did not get that on hologram for the web, the brotherhood will never forgive us!" As he spoke, Pete finished stripping and stood in front of the Klingon boy.

"You don't have any spine," the boy marveled at Pete's smooth back before quickly looking at his own back to assure himself his own spine was still there. Klingon-human fusions have a enlarged, armored spine that runs from the bottom of the Klingon skull to just above the butt crack which protects the Klingon spinal chord and the auxiliary cns junctions. The Klingon spinal ridge, which is raised about a centimeter and a half and runs down the back virtually insured that it was impossible for a Klingon to experience paralysis or beheading.

Pete scooped Xartoz up into his arms, and the small boy automatically wrapped his legs around Pete. "Well, ready to take some pictures?"

"How about a little more slap and tickle?"

"Nope! Work before pleasure," Pete said. "Besides, this won't take long, you are a pretty good looking kid."

Xartoz blushed. "Thanks," the youngster mumbled.

<< TWO >>

Almost three hundred years ago, the Neutral Zone was established to separate the territorial ambitions of the United Federation of Planets from those of the Romulan Star Empire after nearly two decades of vicious war between the two stellar rivals. The Neutral Zone was five light years wide in the x-axis, nearly thirty light years "high" in the z-axis and snaked its way along the y-axis and across interstellar space for nearly two hundred light years. The Romulan Neutral Zone virtually sliced a rather tightly packed galactic cluster in half. The cluster of about 3,900 stars packed into a flattened ovoid with a semimajor axis of 200 light years was also called the Triangle Sector in the United Federation of Planets.

The Triangle Sector is some 7,500 light years and three warp gate jumps from earth – it is also a strategic volume of space where three interstellar superpowers face off against each other across this roughly triangular volume of space. The Triangle Sector forms a buffer between volumes of space surrounding three separate warp gates – one connected to the ufp explored network, one to the Klingon explored network and one to the Romulan controlled network of warp gates. The Three warp gates are separated from each other by less than thirty light years, and are buried deep in the strategic heart of the Triangle Sector composed of a close packed knot of 120 stars deep within the cluster itself.

Warp gates offer instant transportation between two points separated by interstellar or even intergalactic distances, and as such have become tightly integrated into the interstellar economic operations of many star-civilizations and as such are considered strategic assets. The warp gates are the product of a long vanished alien race that had ruled a universe-spanning civilization some six million years ago and left behind a vast, still functional and so far only partly explored chain of interstellar teleportation gates. The first warp gates were first discovered by Terran stellar explorers around the stars Capella and Arcturus in 2043, but due to peculiarities in the stutter warp drive, {Terra's first, more primitive attempt at an ftl drive} which made it disastrously incompatible with the warp gates, these ancient alien artifact's fundamental properties of stellar-scale teleportation did not become known until after the discovery and then wide spread use of the Cochrain Super-impeller in the 2070s.

Because the super impeller/hyperwave warp drives are 'safe' traveling through the warp gates, and active stutter warp drives immediately destroy themselves, the super impeller drive has become the standard within the Federation – and variations on the same principles are employed by most other stellar nations in this Quadrant of the galaxy. Today, warp gates form a cornerstone of interstellar civilization, and because of this, it is inevitable that conflicts would erupt over possession of these prizes. The single Romulan-Federation war had been fought here in the Triangle Sector, while all three of the Federation-Klingon wars had been fought here and several Romulan-Klingon conflicts have ultimately been settled by the application of military might here in the Triangle.

Three warp gates being located within such a compact volume of space is a curious anomaly in itself, but the fact that these three nodes are claimed by the United Federation of Planets, the Komerex Klingon, and the Romulan Stellar Empire make the Triangle Sector a strategic volume of space and politically extremely volatile. In the mid 2070's when Terran explorers came across the Rigil Trade Planet, they found representatives of hundreds of technologically advanced worlds there already at a rare super-junction of nodes where several hundred 'strands' of the warp gate network came together. So far, Rigil is unique in Terran exploration, the Triangle Sector is the second most dense concentration of warp gate nodes known. Over a twenty year period [2072-2092] following discovery of the Rigil Trade Planet and the warp gate network, there was an explosive wave of exploration and colonization across a staggering 1.5 billion light year wide swath of the universe.

In 2368, Tension between the Komerex Klingon and the United Federation of Planets exploded into open warfare between the two stellar superpowers, as the Klingons moved to seize the Organian starsystem, which contained the closest class-M planet to the ufp's warp gate. The forces of Klingon Overlord Kor had no trouble securing the planet which at the time was thought to be inhabited by a technologically stagnant humanoid race. Federation starship Captain Kirk of the uss Enterprise was assigned the task of attempting to counter the Klingon advance, or at least hold Kor at Organia until Star Fleet could mobilize enough ships to oppose the Klingon invasion.

The Organians brought an abrupt end to this third Federation-Klingon conflict by revealing themselves to be ancient nearly god-like creatures composed of pure energy, who had long ago out grown the constraints of the physical multiverse and in their overall control of energy, matter, and indeed reality itself. The outright forbad any further hostilities between the combatants, and established the Organian Treaty Zone. Here, the two could fight to colonize and develop the area. At an undisclosed future date, the Organians would return and decide who had 'won' the conflict.

Both Klingons and Federation governments took the implied Organian treat of 'dire consequences' if there was any further military combat, very seriously and threw themselves into the development of the Triangle Sector, which suddenly experienced a population boom, as both Federation and Klingon governments rushed to formalize territorial boundaries and zones of interest. Although not involved with the Organian Treaty Zone, the Romulans also were quick to rush population and resources to the Triangle to ensure the security of their warp gate.

The Neutral Zone, which had been totally inviolate since 2109 when it was established, was now a military and political hot spot and thorn in the side of both the Romulans and Federation. On each side, both governments had spent considerable resources on intelligence collecting equipment, and ways of jamming each other's surveillance equipment. Heavily armed warships were stationed within a few hours warp travel from the zone, should they be needed to enforce the respective side's 'manifest destiny.' Kolandan-Cor was one of only a dozen Class M planet within the confines of the Neutral Zone, located slightly closer to Romulan territory than Federation, and almost dead center of the Zone proper, it had become the unofficial 'point of contact' between two rival stellar superpowers who had only sporadic official relations, mostly via qlr subspace radio.

The bright, ice-fire auroral curtains of the galactic central regions were clearly visible here within the confines of the Triangle Sector as Dream Walker cut in and out of the peculiar twists and turns in subspace, the last half light year before coming up on the Neutral Zone, and the Kolandan-Cor/Starbase 288 passage. Dream Walker was fast approaching that invisible line in stellar space that divided the United Federation of Planets from the Romulan Neutral Zone. Pete was attempting to save a few hours on his arrival at Kolandan-Cor, just two and a half light year from a 90 mark 263 degree jink in the Federation boundary of the Zone. The jink was there specifically to attempt to lure arrogant Romulan Commanders {of which, it seemed, there was no limit to the supply} into momentarily violating Federation space. Only a light year away, Starbase 288 and its flotilla of guided missile frigates and destroyers stood ready to make sure any errant Romulan did not over-extend his welcome.

The truck's sensor array had already acquired the first of the navigational beacons that identified the gateway into the 1 au wide corridor that led from the Federation edge of the Neutral Zone to the planet Kolandan Cor, buried deep within the zone, and the one place in all the Galaxy the Romulans consented to formal dealings with non-Romulans.

"Federation vessel." the truck's Omnicomm burst into life, startling Kah'Quiopat, who had been napping in the Navigator's acceleration couch, awake. "This is the Romulan patrol ship Tal Venonn. You are approaching the Neutral Zone. What are your intentions?"

Pete grinned at Kah'Quiopat, "Didn't realize we were so close to the gate," he said as he reached up to the overhead comm controls and adjusted the comm frequency to the Romulan Hailing Frequency. While he was doing that, he made a hurried long range scan of space around him. Nothing. The Romulan was cloaked. No way to tell if he were a small patrol craft just off his bow, or a giant D'deridex class battleship on the Romulan side of the zone. Either way, Pete decided it was not wise to keep his interrogator waiting.

"Unknown Romulan Vessel, this is the Star Nomad Transport Dream Walker. I am en route to Kolandan-Cor with a consignment cargo."

"What is your cargo, Dream Walker?"

"Klingon foodstuffs, specifically, ggaahhh."

There was a pause and then a half chuckle, "I do not envy the one who must clean the cargo hold, Dream Walker. Maintain course 028 mark 000 to the gateway marker beacon. You are officially warned that straying from the corridor may subject your vessel to unannounced lethal weapons fire under the terms of the Treaty of Algeron, 2109 your calendar."

"Acknowledged, Romulan patrol. Dream Walker out."

Kah'Quiopat made a face, and mimicked the stilted Romulan vocal cadence: "I do not envy 3; ptoo! What does a pah'toc like that know of good eating?" the warrior scowled. "And speaking of good eating, I'm hungry. Mind if I raid the galley?"

"Help yourself," Pete said. "It's liberty hall, you can spit on the cat and call the floor a bastard."

"Cat?" Kah'Quiopat asked puzzled. "What cat?"

"It's just a saying!" Pete said. "Why are Klingons so literal?"

"And you TerRot'non have far too many 'sayings' 3;" Kah'Quiopat grumbled as he went aft to the galley. He was back minutes later with a thick dagwood sandwich of several varieties of meat. He crawled over the course interrogator between the two acceleration couches of the pilot and navigator. Flopping down in the navigator's couch, Kah'Quiopat took a large bite of the sandwich and looked over at Pete.

"You've been too long without a boy now," the Klingon stately bluntly.

Pete choked and stammered a few words "uh 3;er 3;"

"No, I am right. How long has it been since you left Douglas?"

Pete's face blushed bright red. Douglas had been the one who had first met Kah'Quiopat in a chatroom and had gotten the two inter-galactic boylovers together.

"Four, no five years ago," Pete sighed as memories of his first formal 'special friend' came back to him. "Among my people, we boylovers are a tiny minority, many consider us to be perverts and deviants. It was only natural that as he grew older and made more and more of his own friends that Douglas would drift away. We human boylovers are prepared for that – that our active physical relationships with our boys grows old and dies. It is enough if the boy has fond memories of our time together and we remain friends – as Douglas and I are."

"But do you not hear the call of Inon'Zor, God of Boys? Does not your blood race through your veins and pound in your temples at the mere sight of a beautiful youngster?"

"Of course," Pete said. "But 3;"

"But nothing!" Kah-Quiopat rumbled. "When we land at Chomacht'Xarr on Kolandan-Cor in the morning I will take you to the slave auctions with Xartoz and I."

Pete sat suddenly forward in the pilot's acceleration couch and looked over at his friend Kah'Quiopat in astonishment: "You're joking, right?"

The tall, lanky Klingon leaned across the navigation autoplotter on the mid-station hump between pilot and navigator's station at his friend's astonishment. "No, my Terran friend, I'm serious. We should pay a visit to the Romulan slave pens on Kolandan-Cor; there was a Romulan prison ship that landed there yesterday, and I know there were several dozen children of 'Enemies of the State' on board. One of the many perks of having a sister well connected in Klingon Intelligence."

"I can't. You know that."

Pete was a licensed Boy Lover, which meant that he had applied to and been accepted by the Galactic Pedophylic Institute on Raisa, the pleasure planet famous throughout the galaxy for its free and open attitude toward virtually all types of sex. The Institute administered the Federation's Gay Youth program, as a part of this it needed responsible adults to help with boys and girls who thought they were gay. Most of the time it turned out that the child was NOT gay, but being a part of the program had helped more than a few through an specially rough place in their lives.

But for all its legendary tolerance, the Institute had a zero-tolerance for any kind of relationship that did not have the boy's best interest at heart. Pete could loose his privileges as a member of the Galactic Pedophylic Institute if he were found to have obtained a slave or any other form of indentured servant for that matter. The Institute used Betazed and Vulcan High-T telepaths to weed out those who might hurt children in this kind of relationship, and those who could withstand the telepathic scan and six month training period went on to become licensed Pederasts or boy lovers [even though there were as many or more GIRL lovers in the program.] Pete had known since he was a young boy that he was much more comfortable with younger people than his own age group. This had not been much of a challenge when he was 12 and his special friends were 8 and 9. But when he had grown into a teenager and still preferred pre-teen friends, it had made his social life complicated to say the least. That was why Pete had gotten his license soon after leaving the Star Fleet Marines in 2386.

Suddenly Kah'Quiopat let out a feral growl and Pete realized that his Klingon friend was NOT going just to look. Kah'Quiopat was going to buy – if there was anything there even remotely to his taste.

"Hei, friend," Pete said softly and poked his elbow into the Klingon's ribbs. "You're going shopping, are you not?"

Kah'Quiopat smiled, his lips curling back to reveal centimeter and a half long canine incisors, marking Kah'Quiopat as a member of the true Imperial Race of Klingons. "I plan to find Xar a younger playmate. Boys need to be with others their own age. All boys should have at least one brother, especially boys in Xar's condition." Kah'Quiopat said and then swiveled around in the Tomahawk's navigator acceleration couch and looked at the sleeping form of his young friend, curled up in the flight engineer's couch.

"Well," Pete said slowly, his dick getting hard thinking of browsing the slaver's catalog, "I guess it can't hurt to look 3;"

"Of course not!" Kah-Quiopat laughed. "After all, its not like you were going to buy 3;"

"And with that thought firmly in mind, I'm going to catch some sleep before we reach Kolandan-Cor. If you're staying up, please remember to switch on the autopilot before you turn-in."

"Arrrgh, Cap'n," The Klingon grumbled.

<< THREE >>

Pete entered through the double blast doors that separated the flight deck {which could be detached and used as a life boat in dire emergency situations} from the rest of the Dream Walker in just his shorts, still dripping from his morning shower.

<Just like in the Marines,> the Nomad mused, <the three "S's": Shit, Shower and a Shave.>

"lcars, time and position?" Pete called out to the small starship's also highly augmented main computer in his command voice.

"Galactic mean or ship's time?" the computer responded.

"Ship's time."

"05:24:38, currently on final approach to Kolandan-Cor."

"Okay," Pete said. "Give me a grid map of Chomacht'Xarr, south eastern sector."

"Specify scale of grid."

"1:20,000"

The specified map came up on the main screen, replacing the normal electronically amplified optical image at the forward viewports. Pete spent a few seconds looking at the map on the heads-up display before ordering:

"Locate 722 Avenue of Light." The map scrolled north and west several screens and then stopped, a red diamond winking on it marking the specified location. "Now locate nearest landing field open to us."

The map displayed another pip of colored light.

"Good. Apply for landing clearance, earliest possible time. Inform upon confirmation."

There was an acknowledgement sound effect and lcars fell silent again as the viewports returned to their standard telescreen function.

Seen like this on approach at a distance of 50,000 kilometers [30,000 miles], the world Kolandan-Cor looked much like all class M planets. The first thing that one noticed was the marbled blue and white appearance which was visible from the time one first came close enough [at about 5 million kilometers {3 million miles}] to first notice the planet as an independent sphere, not just another point of light in the velvety blackness of interstellar space. From here, with the planet covering almost 15 degrees of the forward viewport even unmagnified, it was spectacular. From this distance, one could easily pick out the cities on the night side by their street lights and general use of illumination. On the daylight side, the contours of the continents were visible and the delicate shading of pastels, brown and green and gold and burnt ochre which marked the various land forms stood out, occasionally hidden by the puffy-white of tropospheric weather and clouds.

Dream Walker continued its rather leisurely 35 kps [21 mps] unpowered approach toward a preselected point 2100 kilometers [1300 miles] above the surface of the planet where the Star Nomad truck would begin its powered re-entry and landing sequence.

Xar came on the flight deck and headed right for Pete. "How much longer?" Xar asked, coming around the pilot's couch in nothing but his underpants and immediately crawling into Pete's lap.

Oh, about twenty minutes to reentry burn and then another fifteen minutes or so to touchdown at Chomacht'Xarr."

"So 3; you have a few minutes before you have to go to work?" the boy asked.

"Yes, I guess so."

"Rub my wiener!" the human-klingon fusion boy said, "That really feels good."

Smiling indulgently at his young friend the spacer began to stroke Xartoz's tummy and lower chest with both hands. After about a minute, he changed the rhythm a little, continuing the message with his right hand, and hooking his left thumb under the elastic of the boy's underpants and slowly began slipping them down.

The little Klingon boy wiggled his hips around to facilitate the slippage of his underpants until his 7 centimeter wiener popped up erect and free of the cotton of his underpants. Pete wrapped both arms around the little boy and pulled Xar's unresisting body down on top of him fully. He was stroking the boy's thigh almost into his crotch and Xar had slightly angled his leg toward Pete, giving the boylover better access. Pete started kissing him on the cheek and the back of neck, and ran my hands all over the kid's tummy and bare thighs.

" 3;Mmmmm 3; That feels so good. Keep doing what you're doing 3; 3;" Xar said in an almost whine.

So the Nomad kept rubbing his thigh with my right hand, as he slipped his left hand up under the scrotum's never-neverland and brushed his soft underskin and the tiny testicles within the scrotum. Pete gently caressed Xartoz's tummy and chest, and his little nipples. The spacer ran his right hand up under the boy's legs lifting them up so that he could get at the point where the bottom of his scrotum met the beginnings of the ass crack. Then ever so softly and slowly he snaked his hand up and into and over this sensitive patch of skin, lightly using his fingernail to stimulate the Klingon-human Fusion boy.

"Oooooooow! That tickles! No! Don't stop, it feels gooooooood." Xar cooed.

Pete continued his exploring, now reaching for the boy's small testicles and found that his wiener was hard as a nail. And so were his nipples, for that matter. The young boy swiftly did a half roll so that he was facing Pete, his wiener grinding into the gap between the Nomad's thighs below his balls. Pete squeezed that shut instantly, effectively grabbing Xartoz's boyhood with his thighs.

Pete grabbed the boy around the waist and in one quick motion, rolled him back on top, so that his knees were against the Nomad's shoulders as Pete lay in the full-reclined position of the Pilot's couch. He reached up to caress one of Xar's nipples which became quickly even more erect, springing to life, begging for attention. Pete began to systematically rub his hands all over his beautiful companion's little chest and upper tummy, using the skills of psi-massage taught at the Pedophylic Institute, feeling every ripple in the boy's tight yet silky skin. Xar closed his eyes and sighed in pleasure as Pete's hands explored his sides and the small of his back, while Pete's mind endeavored to set the right psi-environment for the climaxing act of lovemaking. The Terran ran his fingernail lightly down the boy's chest from just under his chin to his belly button and circled it navel several times. Looked up at him and said: "Want me to suck you off?"

"Milord honors me 3;" Xar said his voice regaining its Servitor's aural intonations.

"I take it that means 'YES'," Pete said and put both hands on the boy's fanny and pushed forward, neatly popping the 7-centimeter long penis into his gaping mouth.

Sucking off a Klingon is not quite like doing it to a Terran human, there were slight – though important anatomical differences that made the Klingon penis quite different from the human one, and these differences could easily cause serious injury to a non-Klingon. Circumcision is unknown among the Klingons, this is because the physical construction of the glans. Klingon females, like Terrestrial felines require a lot of stimulation for sex, so the Klingon glans is equipped with retractable spines that become active as the Klingon male nears orgasm. If one is aware of these, and has undergone the training at the Pedophylic Institute, one can safely fellate a Klingon, where a less prepared individual would receive deep cuts on the lips, tong and interior of the mouth.

Pete of course was an expert.

As Xartoz experienced his dry orgasm, confirming Pete's earlier guess that he was closer to ten than fifteen, he growled a long loud snarl in Klingonaase and then collapsed limp against Pete. Almost simultaneously lcars informed him:

"Landing clearance secured, landing ramp 51. Commencing standard powered re-entry pattern. Do you wish auto-pilot planet fall and landing?"

"Negative, notify at 56,000 feet [17,000 meter] and release to manual control."

lcars rather soft beep of acknowledgement was nearly drowned out by applause coming from the rear of the Dream Walker's flight cabin.

"Well done, my TerRot'non friend. There are few of your race who know enough to suck a Klingon off and live to tell of the feat."

Pete grinned at Kah'Quiopat, "Just lucky I guess. If you'll take your exhausted kid, I have to finish getting dressed, we're only a few minutes away from re-entry over Chomacht'Xarr." Pete handed the 85 pound Klingon boy off to Kah'Quiopat, who cuddled him affectionately, and headed for the sleeping quarters and his clothes.

Within a few minutes, Pete was back on the flight deck and settled into the pilot's couch; and only moments after that the truck floated over the native grasses and weeds of the designated landing field as the Nomad every so lightly made adjustments to the antigrav controls.

"There is our slab," Kah'Quiopat's bony finger pointed out the side viewport at a slab of thermoplast coated concrete thirty meters long by ten wide with the interlingo numeric symbol for 51 on one end and Romulan script on the other end. Once on the ground, Kah'Quiopat was at once jabbering into his portable commweb in Klingonaase.

"Can you stay a few hours?" Kah'Quiopat asked after having completed one conversation.

"I guess so, but why? I'm not going to the Slave Co-op."

"My Line brother's youngest is at the time for her First Rite of Ascendancy," Kah'Quiopat began.

"And the restaurant is closed – so you need Dream Walkers systems to keep the ggaahhh – ggaahhh instead of degenerating into a puddle of goo."

"Exactomundo." the Klingon said.

Pete did a double take, but decided to let it pass.

"In return, for this favor, my Line Brother has invited us all to the Restaurant for the Feast of manDril'Shamet-odiee."

"Which is?" Pete pressed.

" 3;er 3; rather like your culture's 'Wedding Reception', or 'bar-mitzvah' 3; it is a huge feast to celebrate life and the renewing of the covenant between the Klingon People and the Dark Lords of Fate and the Komerex Zha."

"Oh – a party."

"Yes, a party.

"Sounds fun," Pete said. "You know the old saying: "Parties make the galaxies whirl; so let's have a party."

"Good, then that is solved," Xartoz piped up and tugged on Pete's hand. "So let's go."

Pete grinned down at the youngster. "I'm not going with you to the Slavers, Xar, I'll just hang around here and catch up on some of the lite maintenance chores I've been putting off 3;"

The young Klingon boy looked genuinely distressed as a jet cab pulled up to the foot of the landing ramp.

"Nonsense!" the seven-foot Klingon said and grabbed Pete in a bear hug, lifting his feet off the ground and walking toward the jetcab. Before he knew it, his objections had been noted and dismissed, and he was being stuffed into a jetcab by Kah'Quiopat and Xar. "We're going to the party first!!

"This is hijacking and piracy," Pete muttered in mock-annoyance.

"You'll feel better once we reach the House of Kultarc. Kultarc knows I like boys and always has a few good-looking pre-teens around for me. Inon'Zor, God of Boys, always stalks the hall, making your blood boil," Kah'Quiopat pronounced. "Now let me see if my boy has done his homework 3; Xar, recite!"

"Chomacht'Xarr, largest city on Kolandan-Cor, was home to the planet's starport," the young Klingon boy began. "It has a population of 180,000 human, 205,000 Romulan and a hundred thousand citizens of other Stellar Nations, including the Komerex – all brawling and cheating each other in various commercial ventures 3;"

"And the Orions?" Kah'Quiopat prompted. "Speak of them."

"In 2140 ad TerRot'non standard calendar, the Romulan Praetor Irillious Tarkas found himself in a very uncomfortable position. A failure of the Romulan homeworld's weather modification uv-shielding, together with a massive solar flare on Remious in 2135 had left hundreds of thousands of Romulan embryos severely damaged genetically. Tens of thousands were destroyed at birth, but others were members of powerful families who opposed Irillious Tarkas and accused him of using the d'Sora ritual to thin the ranks of his opponents in the Senate."

Kah'Quiopat beamed, "Very good, Xar. Now, what is the d'Sora?"

Xartoz took a deep breathe and continued: "The d'Sora is an ancient Romulan ritual left over from the tribal days of Romulan civilization when resources were scarce, and tribal elders had to make sure that only the most healthy and strong of the following generation were nurtured. Babies were examined in exhaustive detail, and if any physical deformities or flaw was found they were killed without hesitation or mercy. Again at age five – by which time it was assumed any mental defect would have become apparent the d'Sora was again repeated, and finally at age ten.

"In modern times, most defects are reversible via medical technology, but the Romulans still practice infanticide against children dubbed 'substandard'. The d'Sora rarely finds the need to terminate any child today, but that was what Irillious Tarkas was doing, and in great numbers – and it was threatening to plunge the planet into Civil War."

"And how did the illustrious Irillious Tarkas deal with this?" Kah'Quiopat asked.

"He invited the Orion Syndicate's slavers to set up a centralized slave market here on Kolandan Cor. Then to sweeten the deal, he gave into their hands all the hundreds of thousands of 'defectives' that the d'Sora had marked for death. This solution allowed Irillious Tarkas to satisfy the Priest of the Romulan Way, because although the defectives were not outright killed, neither were they using the precious resources of the Romulan People. And it satisfied his enemies in the Senate also, because Irillious Tarkas turned a blind eye to parents who went to Kolandan Cor to retrieve their children."

"And today?" Kha'Quiopat prompted again.

"Several stellar nations, including the Komerex, the Centauri Republic, and other lesser known peoples, both humanoid and exotic maintain slave operations here now. Chomacht'Xarr has become home to the largest co-op slave market in this quadrant of the Galaxy, with state pavilions operated by the Romulans, and Orions in addition to various private business interests from the Corporate Sector, Terra and a dozen other stellar nations who maintained smaller concessions, but with a wider variety of 'merchandise' than the Orion Syndicate and state run pavilions which were mainly designed as dumping grounds for undesirables."

Kah'Quiopat beamed with parental pride, "Very good, Xartoz. And now only one last question – what has drawn us to the Romulan pavilion today?"

"I was weak in our prolonged travels – and implored you to find me a companion," Xartoz said a little embarrassed to be the cause of all this, but still anxious to meet his new playmate. He had already picked out several Triad games like one-on-one Parrises Squares.

"And here we are at our destination," Kah'Quiopat proclaimed. The robocab pulled up in front of the non-discript building in the middle of a light industrial district in the Klingon zone of Chomacht'Xarr. Chomacht'Xarr's Klingon sector village was Klintzhai-kine, it had its own constabulary, administration and a wide variety of Klingonaase cultural establishments. Among these was of course the Temple of Kahless, for centuries the seat of the priesthood – who administered the Rites of Ascension for Klingon adolescents, and Kultarc's restaurant.

At the front of the building were a set of double doors, composed of mirrored semi-transparent titanium crystal thousands of tiny point source leds of red, yellow, green and blue embedded in the crystal itself made up the establishment's sign. It said in the curious triangular, almost hindu Klingonaase:

HOUSE OF KULTARC – FINE KLINGONAASE CUISINE

Pete paid the robocab off over Kah'Quiopat's objections, and they got out in front of the restaurant. Two Klingon soldiers who had been half concealed in the shadows, snapped to ceremonial attention doing the curious imitation of the Emporer's Own British Legions 'At Attention two step' and bringing their bat'telh's to momentary challenge position. Pete instantly and in a single smooth gesture withdrew his sword from its scabard and rendered the folioga're salute before laying his sword lightly against each bat'telh and returned it to its scabbard.

"Mahje TerRot'non," the senior Klingon warrior grinned. "You know our ways then?"

"Indeed Milord. My grandfather taught me, he served with the d'harr Master Kor on the Maggon Front in the Kinshaya wars." "batLh kaplahh suvwl'loDnl," the senior warrior said, a greeting that roughly translated to 'welcome honoured brother'.

"gJlage," Pete pronounced, and the Klingon held the door open for the TerRot'non and his two Klingon companions.

The House of Kultarc was an establishment that specialized in a combination of Terran Oriental food [some of it very close to klingon dishes, and much sought after by some as an exotic meal] and Klingon cuisine. One could eat strait Oriental, strait Klingon, or indulge in the risky behavior of blending the two, either with the restaurant's recommendations, or solo.

Tonight, the restaurant was set up buffet-style. The air was thick with KahJaNah incense smoke and less potent, but more pervasive the sweet aroma of burning starweed from the miGar swamps of the homeworld itself. The hall was filled with Klingons and surprisingly several dozen aliens, of which the TerRot'nons were the most pervasive. The Organian Prophesy that one day Human and Klingon would sit at the same table and break bread and brag of their bravery in battle had pretty much come to pass, except for the tiny splinter group calling itself the Imperial Klingon States who still held that all humans were servants of Fek'larr herself; and that by mixing with them one would never get to StoVo'Kor to serve with the real Kahless {not the genetic impostor the Priesthood had put upon the throne in 2371} in the Black Fleet.

It all seemed chaotic to Terran eyes, the lighting was dim, the music loud and the guests even louder. Once or twice, a knife fight between Klingons armed with ceremonial Lev'eks broke out; here and there through out the crowd a shout would go up as old comrade-in-arms met again and rushed forward and executed the traditional warrior's greeting, the headbutt. They had only been in the restaurant for a few minutes when Kah'Quiopat spotted by Kultarc, Va'Lonnah, and her familial entourage. The tall, lanky Klingon gapped Gete and Xartoz by the shoulders and pulled them back into the surging crowd around the bar.

"Heh!" Kah'Quiopat chuckled, "Watch this!" And he slipped off into the crowd before Pete or Xar could say anything. Pete looked questioningly at the Klingon boy, who simply shrugged his shoulders. It was not long before they got the answer to all of their questions. As Kultarc and his daughter Va'Lonnah passed near suddenly there was a commotion. Va'Lonnah was caught in a mighty bear hug. Squirming around in the grip Va'Lonnah saw a familiar face. "Uncle Kah'Quiopat! What are you doing here?" she asked and threw her arms around him. "I'm so happy to see you."

"I'm here delivering a shipment of fresh ggahhh from Syftilious Minor to your father for the restaurant 3; and he told me of your Rite of Ascension 3; couldn't stop yammering about it!" Kah'Quiopat grinned. "Now I want you to meet someone," Kah'Quiopat motioned Pete and Xar over.

"This," Kah'Quiopat said "Is my protege and my good Terrot'non friend, the Star Nomad Freebooter, Pete Reynolds."

"So, Terrot'non," Kultarc rumbled, "you have managed to impress the Captain of my household guard, Montazar-djinn. He says you ware a sword and appear to know how to use it."

Meanwhile Xartoz and Va'Lonnah disappeared for a moment and were discussing issues involving the First Rite of Ascension. Xartoz himself had gone through the ceremony less than a year ago himself.

Pete turned slightly to view the man standing partly behind Lord Kultarc, it was the guard who had challenged him at the entry. "Yes, Milord. The Terran tradition of edged weapons goes back at least 4,000 years and the Star Nomad nations are keeping them alive."

"Ah, then you are skilled only in the ceremonial, traditional ways of the sword?"

"No, Milord," Pete said. "I hold the rank of advanced learner, in the Order of Excalibur."

Silence fell over the hall, first in the immediate circle around Kultarc and Pete; then spread outward swiftly like a ripple in a pond.

"Excalibur, the legendary blade of Arthur," Montazar-djinn said softly and reverently.

"Then you know of it," Pete began, but was cut off by Kultarc.

"Yes, Terrot'non. Although it was a half century before formal contact with your race, the Klingon Secret Service watched the entire of your Arthur's war with the Shadows – those we call the Kinshaya – and were mightily impressed. Your Arthur surely had the heart of a Klingon Warrior. You should have seen the way he went down on the surface of the last Shadow fortress built on an asteroid of pure neutronium, leading his marines with that sword ever swinging and dispatching dozens, nay hundreds of the enemy."

"His Majesty was always a showman as well as a warrior, those images were meant to rally the people in the darkest hours of the war we almost lost," Pete said. "It was he who organized the modern Order of Excalibur."

"It would honor me greatly if Milord Reynolds would consent to a few sparing rounds against my humble self," Montazar-djinn said.

"The honor is mine, Milord," Pete said, drawing his sword and assuming the on-guard position. The Klingon captain snapped his bat'telh up into attack position and an impromptu group of yelling and cursing Warriors formed a ring around the combatants ten meter wide.

As quick as a cobra's strike Montazar's bat'telh swung out at Pete's midsection. Using a step similar to one a matador might use to sidestep a charging bull, the young Terran managed to get out of the bat'telh's way and in addition was able to execute a two-step attack, bringing his sword up and slashing outward and to right, catching a bit of the metal-mesh undercoat of the Klingon's battlesuit. There was a ringing clang and several broken links fell to the floor of the ballroom.

"n'Chrag bLa'QoQuis TerRot'non!" <First blood to the Terran Conqueror> Pete's friend Kah'Quiopat raised a shout of triumph.

The Klingon warrior's stance changed to a higher level of alert as he realized that he had under estimated the Terran's skill with his oddly-shaped sword. There were no primary or secondary cutting radii or multipoints, as on a proper weapon like the bat'telh, just a razor sharp strait length of durillium with a single point on the extreme end. The Captain redoubled his effort.

Pete gave ground steadily in front of the Klingon's furious attack. Now he faced a delicate situation: how to disengage gracefully, without kicking the Klingon's butt – which he was pretty sure he could do. However it probably was not a good idea to do it in front of his employer – afterall, Pete was not after a job as Captain of the Household Guard. On the other hand, it would not do to give up too easily, THAT would dishonor the Captain in a way loosing to Pete would never do.

The Captain lunged with a battle yell, swinging the bat'telh in a wide arc that Pete was bearly able to parry as he fell backward. Suddenly his problem of honorable disengagement was solved for him as his foot slipped on something and the Nomad went sprawling.

Before the trucker was able to recover and bring up his guard, the Captain's bat'telh was at his neck.

"ReCharr! BatlQuois," <Victory to the Klingons> the Captain roared.

Pete, sprawled flat on his back, released the grip on his blade and uttered the ceremonial phrase: "I yield to you, Milord Montazar."

"Well fought, TerRot'non," the Captain of Kultarc's Guard panted. "I was seriously worried for a minute there as you pressed your first attack. How do you compensate for the weight of the blade in this unbalanced configuration?"

"It's not really unbalanced," Pete said, and the two warriors retired to an unoccupied anteroom to discuss the fine points of sword play, Terran style.

<< FOUR >>

Va'Lonnah Kultarc was the equivalent of a twelve year old human girl, she stood now at the climax of the First Rite of Ascension, only a short walk through the gauntlet of painsticks – a preparation for the Second Rite's even more rigorous painstick ceremony – remained. The Klingon girl was dressed only in a bikini bottoms, which left large areas of her skin {including her small, but well shaped titties} bare tempting targets for the painsticks. She paused on the raised dais and looked out into the crowd, as usual there were many outworlders there – afterall, how else could they ever hope to observe one of the core rituals of Klingon culture? Her parents were also there of course and her brothers and sisters, as the youngest, her completion of the First Rite of Ascension closed the cover of one book of her parents' lives.

Va'Lonnah proudly stepped off and into the gauntlet stage which had been erected in the rear of the grand ballroom of her father's Restaurant to host the Rite of Ascension. Torches replaced electric lights and a central bonfire where rare spices and KahJaNah incense burned and filled the ballroom with aromatic smoke to excite and stimulate the senses. Before her was the jbechrup may' vllos komerexZhai, the path of heroes. Physically it consisted of five slightly elevated stages, the start station where she was now, and four others where she would be "examined" by the Inquisitors of Kahless

"DaHjaj SuvwI'e' jiH. tIgwIj Sa'angNIS. – Iw bIQtIq jIjaH." the young girl said proudly, as she stepped down off the starting dais and took the two steps to the first of the raised platforms.

"Zammar-KHAN!!" the two Klingon warriors, one male and one female, warring the red and silver sashes of the the Holy Guards of the Temple of Kahless shouted as she stepped up on the first stage.. They stepped forward and applied the painsticks to Va'Lonnah's bare flesh.

There was a sharp intake of her breathe as the painsticks made contact and delivered their electro-sonic charge. The girl had allowed herself to forget the intense shock of pain caused by the neural disruption caused by the weapons. For the First Rite of Ascension, the painsticks were set at their lowest potency, 1/1000, but even so the pain was brain numbing.

"jBechrup may' vllos," Va'Lonnah said defiantly as she stepped off the first stage advanced to and mounted the second stage. The Temple guards applied their painsticks, this time to her ribs, just under her petite breasts, causing her nipples to stand erect. "This battle is now mine," Va'Lonnah said. "I crave only the blood of the enemy! HlHlvqa"

Resolutely she advanced to the third stage, where the painsticks were wielded by acolytes of the Temple of Kahless. The neural shock of the previous two stages were beginning to cause her to zone-out, and the girl desperately tried to regain the concentration she needed to complete the Rite.

Reverence, that was the third principle of Ascension, Va'Lonnah fought against the waves of pain that were assailing her mind by diverting her focus, just as she had been taught in Elementary Warrior's training [which all Klingon children underwent in their preteen years]. Yes, Reverence, just as the First principle was Purity, and the second Obedience.

"May'pequ' moH!" Staggering somewhat now, Va'Lonnah stepped onto the fourth stage, and this time the shock of the painsticks was not as agonizing, not as jarring. They seemed far off annoyances now, like t'gart flies buzzing around her mind in the summer heat and humidity. Brilliance, that was the fourth principle. Now only Honor, the highest principle remained, all she need do was take one more step, withstand the assault on her person by the painstisks of all the previous eight inquisitors simultaneously; and then take one final step to claim the bat'telh and red and silver cloak of citizenship that would then be hers by right of conquest.

Almost on autopilot, the twelve year old girl took that final step and was instantly assaulted by a fusillade of eight painsticks wielded by the inquisitors of the Rite of Ascension. They seemed to keep the painsticks applied to her for an unbearably long time, though she knew that the Rite called for five seconds.

A wave of vertigo swept over her as the inquisitors removed the painsticks and quietly withdrew, leaving her alone on the honor stage with the rack that bore the bat'telh and the cloak. Va'Lonnah fought down the vertigo and advanced on the cloak.

The assembled crowd of offworlders and Klingons roared their approval as the twelve year old wrapped her now shivering body in the cloak; and spun the bat'telh around in the Royal salute before letting it's unedged side come to rest against the firm flesh of her upper arm. Instantly her parents and friends were surrounding her, she leaned gratefully against her father, who leaned over and whispered: "Very well done, Baby Girl."

"Daddy!" she hissed at him, but the older Klingon only grinned his wildest, most affectionate smile. It hit her then, the revelation that no matter how far she managed to scramble up in the <Komerex-zha>, she would always be 'Baby Girl' to her father. Then the crowd of well-wishers flooded in on the young girl and she disappeared into the throng.

"Well," Pete said, patting his belly. "That was quite a work out, even to watch! I'm starved. What'da'ya say, Xar? Ready for some grub?"

"And how. It feels like a week since I had anything decent to eat."

"Then lets hit that buffet line like the Klingon Imperial Marines 3;"

"OOO-RAHH!"

It was here that Lord Kultarc broke in. "My friends, you do not need stand in a line like common Pah'Toks. Come to my table and my servitors will do those menial chores."

"My Lord is kind," Pete said and so he, Kah'Quiopat and Xartoz went to sit at the head table with the House Holder, his senior staff and guests. By now, news of Pete's amazing display [for a TerRot'non!] of skill with the sword had traveled and those few who had not witnessed the sparing match between Pete and the Captain of the Household Guard were now attempting to get a look at this amazing TerRot'non.

They were no sooner settled into their seats, but the appetizers, both Klingon and Oriental began to be brought by the servitors. Pete was not too surprised to find that Xartoz had no formal experience with real Oriental food, which requires the customer to feed himself with chopsticks. Va'Lonnah on the other hand surprised Pete a little by announcing that she really loved Oriental food and could eat most TarRot'non dishes. But considering her background growing up in the Restaurant trade as she had, perhaps it should not have surprised Pete as much as it did.

There was no doubt about it, the supper was an experience to remember. Kultarc's House was a large establishment, more akin to a spaceship hanger than a restaurant,being a hundred-sixty meters wide and two hundred fifty long. The restaurant had a large enclosed courtyard within its middle which reproduced the terrain on Klintzahi, the Klingon Homeworld where the famous Battle of Qo'Qliss Gorge where Kahless became 'The Unforgettable' by defeating Molor and his armies – easily outnumbering those who stood with Kahless ten to one. Kultarc's put on a spectacular opera based upon this most famous battle in Klingon history for the entertainment of its dinner guests. The courtyard stage was seventy-five meters wide, by a hundred fifty long. Now that the Rites of Ascension were completed, the shutters over the 10 meter high crystalline windows facing the rocky ground of the courtyard had been removed and the actors were getting set up for their nightly performance.

Va'Lonnah had come and sat with Pete, Kah'Quiopat and Xartoz. In honor of Pete's membership in the Order of Excalibur, he had been Designated the Dragon King, and assigned the Dragon Throne at the West of the Great Table. The Dragon Throne was a large, ornate chair, carved with the likeness of a Klingon Dragon's head and wings overshadowing the throne itself. The Great Table itself was twenty meters long with seating for thirty and two meters wide. At it's midpoint along the North oriented edge was the Obsidian Throne of Kahless, which by tradition was a part of evert High Table because of Kahless's promise to return one day. The Householder's throan was a step lower than the Obsidian Throne and the seat of the Householder's power. The right and left along the East-West axis were the Dragon Throne on the west and the Throne of the Narg'stam which anchored the east. The Narg'stam was a fearsome creature which was a nightmare composed of bits and pieces of other creatures. If a Terran were to name these creatures they would be predominantly Owl and Bear, and thereafter the Narg'stam had been given the name "OlwBear" by Terran tourist guides to the Klingon Reaches. The Klingons swore they had existed in the Time of Kahless, but so far no evidence had ever been produced. The Terrans routinely wrote off the Narg'stam as a Klingon Boogie-creature that now the Klingons were having fun with at Terran expanse.

The south was open and faced the wide crystalline windows of the courtyard where the Battle of Qo'Qliss Gorge was even now beginning in earnest.

"Let me order for you boys," Va'Lonnah said to Kah'Quiopat and Xartoz, "I promise you'll not be disappointed."

"Not Chitlin's!" Xartoz said in mock horror.

Va'Lonnah laughed, "I think we'll stick with TerRot'non Oriental cuisine for my escort this evening. My Lord Pete? Are you up for some experimentation with Klingon food?"

Pete grinned. "Yes, My Lady. I've had Klingon foods before. Order as you would like this evening, I am capable of handling my order."

"Good!" Va'Lonnah said and signaled to one of her father's servitor in the traditional Klingon way – she put her fingers to her mouth and emitted an ear-splitting three tone whistle – a perfect imitation of a Star Fleet bo'suns pipe.

The servitor, who also turned out to be Va'Lonnah's bat'telh and edged weapons instructor. Like Kah'Quiopat he was at least seven feet tall. Klingon's tend to be about the same stature as terrestrial humans, and so a seven foot tall one, and dressed in an apron and warring an old-style cook's tall hat would stand out in virtually any crowd anywhere in the galaxy.

"Kalt'Amitai! What are you doing here?"

"Louk Necktch?" he growled – roughly translated "What do you want?" The Klingons are very abrupt in their verbal conversation. There are a lot of exclamation points and capital letters. Such Federation nice touches as 'please', 'thank-you', 'you're welcome' and so on as a rule do not exist in Klingonaase. Only strength, ritual aggressiveness and honor count in your conversation.

"Interlingo, please," Va'Lonnah said, "To honor the Lord Pete." Kalt'Amitai smiled, "My lady does not need me as weapons instructor any longer; so now I serve where I can. Now, in the Restaurant. "Ca'bongah!" he said and handed her a menu.

"Kalt'Amitai! you embarrass me in front of my guests! Nar-deez nuqdaq – 'oH pah'toc Qe'QoQe' 'kha-FECK," Va'Lonnah said, standing up. Pete glanced at Kah'Quiopat, uncertain if he should also rise. Kah'Quiuopat shook his head slightly and the Nomad relaxed. He knew a great deal of Klingon ways in the battle culture, but this was mostly the realm of the Klingon female – This was part of the ritual of fine dining – Klingon style.

Kalt'Amitai had given her the abridged tourist menu. [To tease her probably,] and she was telling him, in strong. aggressive language that she was not amused and knew the difference between an abridged menu and the real thing. Did he take her for a dishonorable person? Or a Pah'tok <fool>? Had she not just endured with honor the First Rite of Ascension? And she did not feel like being insulted on this day. "Nacht dass Qo"Qo'Qe desarr pah'TOK!" She ended with an extremely rude Klingonaase insult.

Pete wondered briefly if he should make Va'Lonnah aware of the fact that he had spoken fluent Klingonaase since his twelfth birthday, as his foster great grandfather was Imperial Klingon and knew little Interlingo. No, he thought, she had obviously switched languages to avoid embarrassing her old master-of-arms in front of Pete. Nothing positive could be served by setting the factual record strait.

Kalt'Amitai flashed an impressive set of filed incisors and grunted: "Mahje!" {Good}.

Mahje indeed, Pete thought, so it had been an attempt at humor, there were not many stand-up comedians in Klingon society. What Klingons found funny, most people barfed at.

From a giant pocket in the front of his cook's apron, Kalt'Amitai produced another scripted and handed it to Va'Lonnah with a flourish.

Va'Lonnah studied the menu and spat out an order. Then Kalt'Amitai looked at Pete.

"Ggaahhh, dragon steak, prune juice," The spacer snarled in his best Warrior's Speak. The dragon steak Pete had before many times, its similar to venison, except a lot more sweet, verging toward pork.

Kah'Quiopat grinned. "I thought that you had a bad opinion of our ggaahhh."

"I will reserve my judgement until I try it. I've just hauled 60,000 kilograms of them 90 light years and through a half dozen warp gates to get them here," Pete said.

Ggaahhh were live grub worms about as thick as a pencil and perhaps 30 cm long when full grown. They turned out to be quite tasty, even to a Terrestial pallet – tasting rather like dark turkey meat after having been refrigerated and smeared with mayonnaise. In other words if you could get past the idea of eating 'slimy worms' they're really were very good. No wonder the Klingons have devoted an entire continent on Klintzai to them [Klintzai is the home world 3; Qo'noS {pronounced 'Kronos'} which is often mistaken for the Klingon homeworld. It is only Klintzai's major moon, it is true that the High Council meets there and there are several major industrial and military centers there, but Klintzai is the original home world of the Klingon race.]

The prune juice is, as far as the Klingons are concerned, the terRot'non {Terran} drink that separates the Federation wimps from the Warriors. A fast and easy way to impress any Klingon crowd in a bar is to order prune juice. It has the same effect on their taste-buds as drinking pure tabasco sauce mixed with kerosene would have on a human's. So far, the average Klingon is not aware of the fact that prune juice is only mildly cloying to Terrestrial taste-buds.

"Jilegh, TerRot'non," and he turned to Xartoz.

"Va'Lonnah knows much more about the Oriental food that I do," Xartoz said. "She said she would order something good."

"A wise choice, young master." Kalt'Amitai turned back to Va'Lonnah

Va'Lonnah ordered two entrees, pollzos al-feugo – literately 'chicken on fire' which was kinda like shish kabob with chicken, instead of Lamb. She also ordered Yom Kang Koon – beef spareribs with fried rice and a special Klingon sauce. They also had a sampler platter of the different Oriental dishes available at the registrant and of course egg rolls, Tom Yum Koong soup, and Chow Mein.

Xartoz liked the Tom Yum Koong soup, and had a few spoonfuls of the Targ's head soup that came with my dragon steak. He announced that mixing the two was very good indeed. Va'Lonnah and Kah'Quiopat also discovered that they both loved the fried shrimps and chicken kabobs and the chow mein.

Probably the highlight of the evening was watching Xartoz attempting to manipulate chopsticks. Thereafter there were two versions of the events at the House of Kultarc that night. In Pete and Kah'Quiopat's version they had a wonderful time trying to teach David how to eat with chopsticks. Pete held the boy's hands in the proper way and guided them a few times. Kah'Quiopat just sat back and roared with laughter, he loved it being so close to the young Klingon boy. Xartoz, on the other hand, was of the opinion that Pete and Kah'Quiopat were laughing at him {ok, so they were laughing, but it was pretty funny!} and trying to embarrass him. This was because although both Pete and then Va'Lonnah tried to help, and Xartoz tried valiantly to grab pieces of spare-rib or shrimp with the chopsticks – he was largely unsuccessful, and Kah'Quiopat steadfastly maintained it was humorous to watch the little boy trying to pick up a chunk of chicken or some other tidbit with the sticks.

Halfway through the meal, Xartoz abandoned the chopsticks – claiming his hand grew too cramped to hold the sticks – he abandoned them for a fork, and then took a much more direct approach, using one of the chopsticks to spear the food and eating that way.

After dinner, and just as the final Battle between Kahless and Molor was about to begin in the courtyard, Kah'Quiopat slipped up beside the Dragon Throne and lightly touched the Star Nomad. "You're in trouble," the Klingon said.

Pete sighed, "That's no military secret. What now?"

"It seems that your skill with a blade has generated a lot of interest in the Klingon Community here on Kolandan Cor. There are a lot of young warriors who want to try their luck against you."

"Aww, Crom! I don't want to get involved in a full tournament. I have to be at Starbase 288 tomorrow to pick up a consignment for ds9," Pete said.

"Now don't worry," Kah'Quiopat said. "I begged the ride here, I'll get you out of this, the only thing is we have to get out of here right now, while our good friend Lord Molor," Kah'Quiopat gestured toward the courtyard/stage, "keeps everyone else occupied."

"What about the ggaahhh?"

"Not to worry, one of Kultarc's trucks is already on the way and will meet us there."

"And Xar?"

"Haven't you noticed? He and Va'Lonnah are having too good a time to know we are even gone. If this takes longer than I think, Kultarc will look after him until I get back."

"Well, I guess it is time to leave 3;"

The jetcab was waiting at the curb in front of Kultarc's and in ten minutes had arrived at the landing field. The truck and unloading crew from House of Kultarc was already at the landing pad when the jetcab carrying Pete and Kah'Quiopat arrived. Kah'Quiopat immediately took charge of the unloading, urging the servitors to work harder for the Honor of their employer .. to work harder and faster for the sake of their lousy hides, which he, Kah'Quiopat would skin off them with a dull knife if they were not finished in thirty time cycles so that Pete could raise ship.

The servitors grumbled, but knew their jobs. Well with in the thirty minute limit that Kah'Quiopat had set, the stasis crates containing 60,000 kilograms of ggaahhh had been transferred from the Tomahawk's hold and onto the ground truck from Kultarc.

"Well, my TerRot'non friend, I did not get a chance to take you to the Kolandan Cor slave emporium this time – but next time 3;" Kah'Quiopat said.

"Well, maybe," Pete said slowly, "But I might beat you to it. The time I spent with Xartoz reminded me that being a boylover mean more than just having a set of philosophical ideals, it also includes being with a special kid, hopefully to be a positive influence in his life. But for now, I guess this is good-bye."

"You have got to come to Risa with me soon," Kah'Quiopat said

"Maybe next Empire Day 3;"

The lanky Klingon boy lover folded his long legs into the waiting jetcab and with a last wave was gone. Pete collected all of the paperwork from his visit to Kolandan Cor and stuffed them into his 'incomming-active' file in the flight safe under the pilot's acceleration couch.

Pete settled himself into the pilots station and adjusted the acceleration harness and began the pre-flight checks. Minutes later the Tomahawk was raising on its antigrav pads and preparing to leave Kolandan Cor.

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