"PhaHks" - Part I.

He dreamed of light. Just for a second.

He dreamed it, but not as a blind man would dream. Not as something that could only be, through the mind-sight of perpetual black, imagined.

No, with his open seeing eyes, he saw it. This light had form, controlled motion and heat.

And it had given him pain and then.

Fear.

But first the dream had allowed him one quick lung full of mountain air.

Later when he awoke that crisp, pine-scented coolness that had filled him was all he thought about.

Just getting it back.

When he awoke, he dreamed other things.

Stink.

He smelled it but was afraid to open his eyes because the last time he did, he was still in the dream but the dream had changed. It was a nightmare now and he couldn't move. And he couldn't rid his nostrils of the terrible stench that assaulted them with every breath. Now and then he gagged from it and bits of drying puke dotted his naked abdomen. Sweat and feces, pungent damp fur, rotting teeth. Smells upon smells, a thick quilt of reek that draped over him no matter where he turned his face.

When he awoke, he could smell his own urine and body odor. He'd peed himself more than once since the dream had ended and the nightmare begun. Soon, because he'd been holding back for hours, he would again be adding his own bowel excretions to the slickness under his legs and buttocks and the purifying stench would grow worse.

Still he did not open his eyes. But his teeth chattered and gooseflesh covered him. And the pain in his empty belly and the sticky dryness of his throat kept reminding him that he was real.

And that maybe, even though he'd kept his eyes shut because he must be dreaming, this was too.

*****

"Commander Veexow."

The Junior Navigator swivelled in his seat and straightened, holding himself at strict attention.

The female Commander, seated in the center of the her enormous ship's bridge, indicated for him to speak with a single nod, not looking at him.

"We have the wayward vessel, Commander. Three light years ahead, directly on our course." he reported

"Excellent. We shall have to teach these "traders"" - the word was laced with bemused contempt - "a little lesson in the decorum and proper respect befitting their liberators. Bring us along side them and prepare an armed infiltration unit. I want to see what sort of cargo they're trying to smuggle this time."

The Junior Navigator turned back to his instruments. "Yes, M'Lady."

He knew he was awake because, when he turned his head, he was certain he felt wall against his cheek. Perfectly smooth and cold. But he wanted to know so he opened his eyes to see and started to pant in terror when everything remained as dark as it had been behind closed lids. He clenched his teeth and squeezed fists to his temples, hoping to force himself elsewhere through pain and pressure. A whine of terror escaped his lips and was answered with a sharp blow to his face.

He knew he was awake because it had hurt and he could taste his own blood. Then he felt something else between two of his bottom teeth, managing to unclench a fist in order to pull it out.

A long, coarse hair.

He retched again, covering himself in his own foul-smelling bile.

He knew he was awake when he tucked his freezing, cramped legs under him, leaning slowly forward and down until his forehead rested on the floor, slimy with all manner of fluids. The muscles throughout his body screamed to stretch. But he wanted to burrow into himself and so bury what was happening, whatever that was. A tiny, shivering ball was as far as he wanted to venture into this reality-cum-nightmare.

*****

"Take this creature and execute him!" The Commander released her hold on the throat of the ugly little alien, ignoring his protests and pleas for mercy as he was dragged away between the bulk of two of her guards.

The Commander waved an arm to three other guards waiting nearby. "Deliver them all to the nearest penal colony and let them figure out what to do with them, except for that one."

The tallest guard followed her pointing finger to the white, hair-less creature huddled at the far end of the Trader ship's cargo hold.

Seeing his puzzled frown, she dared him to speak.

He didn't.

"Have my doctor clean him up. Put something warm on him first." Was her last order as she strode away. "Yes, M'Lady" she heard as she marched down the corridor.

She didn't have to tell them what to do with the rest of the Trader ship's crew nor with the ship itself. The captured smugglers would also be left at the penal colony and a skeleton crew of her own kind put on the vessel who would deliver it to her home world. She needn't concern herself with such details for she had a well trained and loyal crew including a wide variety of personal staff there solely to provide for her every need.

She knew she was taking some risk, keeping this one being behind, but he would surely have died if left any longer with the other hapless creatures. And, she felt some excitement at the thought for he was a rare find. No, not a rare find, an impossible one. Although she'd been against the Extermination Judgment, she realized the necessity - even the logic - of it.

Her people had once before underestimated this species and had almost become subservient to them because of it. And her people would have died in such a position. No, the Extermination Judgment had been the perfect answer.

The Commander transported herself directly to the bridge of her own ship and spent some time taking care of ship's business and communiques with the Home world as well as making some special arraignments regarding her personal quarters. Then, duties completed for the time being, she exited and made her way through extensive corridors and companionways to the other end of the ship.

That her large and lavish quarters were on the opposite end of her vessel was by design. The bridge was most often the preferred target in a battle and if by chance the ship was taken by surprise with her off the bridge, then she would have a better chance to survive and battle again. Commanders of her caliber and experience were highly valued. Besides, she relished the privacy.

Now that she'd made the decision about her find, questions would have to be answered. Where did he come from?

She smiled. Perhaps she'd made a miscalculation. After all she'd only been able to make a quick visual inspection, perhaps this wasn't the genuine thing.

She pressed a crystal stud on her thick, jewel encrusted bracelet and spoke into it for a moment. She didn't wait for a response from her physician. He would do as she asked immediately and bring her his results when he was done. "And", speaking aloud to herself, her mouth twisted in annoyed fondness, "he'll wish to give me all the usual cautions and warnings but, in the end, keep his mouth shut."

She was fond of her doctor. He was intelligent, insightful and could read her with a glance. Yet he was also fiercely devoted to her. He'd never contradicted her among the crew nor displayed the slightest ambition other than remaining her physician, of which privileged position his attitude bordered on obsession. He was exactly what she required in a personal therapist. In no other duties among the crew could one get as close to the ship's commander. So, to none other than the physician was the commander of a ship more vulnerable. How simple it would be to eliminate a dissatisfactory leader than to have her doctor slip her something lethal. But she didn't have to worry. She was rich, powerful and generous to all who proved loyal.

She frowned as she ordered and was delivered some soothing tea mixture, her favorite. It reminded her of home.

She had been born, of rich parents, near the shores of Rehmu Plain, not a true plain but an inland ocean so-called because of its eerie stillness that spoke of its extreme depths, shortage of inlets and outlets and that it was surrounded by mountain vistas the awesome beauty of which would suck the breath away of any planetary traveler.

She shook her head. She could be so sentimental. Six more tours of duty and she could retire at the reasonable age of one hundred, nine years old. Middle age for her species.

She lay back on her many cushioned divan and stretched out, but she was not relaxed as her mind turned back again to her most recent problem. Really, what possessed me? she thought. What am I to do with him?

At the sounding of her door, she knew who it was and sat up quickly. "Enter Rhengar."

Her physician entered, carrying a small device she recognized as his portable medical unit.

"Dear M'Lady."

She smiled at him, about the only crew member she ever did, at his handsome youth and at his usage of "Dear".

He is fond of me, (she thought), and I must be of him or I would never allow it!

He was about to speak further when she held up one bejewelled finger. "Wait." She stood next to him.

"He's pure, isn't he?"

His nodded his head once. "Yes, M'Lady, no physical indications what-so-ever of intermix."

"I knew it." Suddenly she was highly excited but managed to control her emotions and kept her features smooth. She turned from the doctor and paced before him.

He cleared his throat.

"Speak." she said.

"I have him sedated, M'Lady. What do you wish me to do with him?"

"Clothe him. Then bring him here." What was she doing? she wondered. As yet, she was uncertain.

Rhengar raised one eyebrow but left to carry out her instructions.

Though he wouldn't have said so, she knew he didn't agree with the idea but she didn't care about decorum, she wanted to see this creature up close. How many of her generation had? Few. Probably none.

She was excited. It wasn't often she indulged herself but this was too great a find to just toss aside. Thank gods she had inspected that fifthly cargo hold herself. Most commanders would have left it to underlings to do so, such tasks being delegated to the lowest classes. But she had never been one to follow stuffy tradition, or even orders from the High Command if they didn't completely suit her. She had enough power and influence to do almost as she pleased.

But then, though battle ready at all times, her ship was, strictly speaking, not a war ship. It was one used for patrolling, inspecting, surveying, generally keeping things in order in their now vast realm of the galaxy. It was the kind of ship she'd wanted: clean, well-staffed, luxurious.

Might as well have as many amenities as home if one was to spend years away from it.

Her mind quickened at the thought of her new found curiosity. What did she really know of these creatures? Only what she'd read and learned through old texts, gossip and propaganda.

She couldn't wait to see him up close. She was certain that none of her generation, other than Council appointed scientists who kept cloned whole and partial specimens for research purposes, had ever seen a whole pure-strain human. Much less a living example!

Her door chime sounded once and the door opened.

Rhengar pushed the creature ahead of him and through the entryway of M'Lady. He waited for instructions, somewhat anxiously. She caught his expression. "Don't worry Rhengar, I could kill this creature with a single blow if the need should arise. You may leave."

He bowed and left.

She turned to take her first close look.

And was disappointed.

The creature seemed catatonic as he stood there, swaying ever so slightly, not looking at her, not speaking, not moving, not doing anything but staring at the floor. Rhengar had had the foresight to dress him, not in rags, but in something befitting one who was to meet his liberator, loose fitting but clean white shirt and leggings. There were no fasteners or strings on any of the material.

Nothing the creature could use as a weapon.

She approached slowly, but kept her distance.

The creature's eyes widened slightly at her approach and his respirations quickened. She could see the pupils of his eyes dilate in terror. Well, she asked herself, what did you expect? That he would get down on his knees and bestow his eternal thanks and devotion?

As she approached the creature shut his eyes which annoyed her, she'd wanted to see them up close. But he's afraid of you, she thought, he wants to block you out.

"You should be a-fraid." She said, speaking - a bit stiltedly - the now little used common tongue of his to all intents and purposes extinct species. He didn't respond but he opened his eyes and looked straight at her, at her eyes, something she never allowed but from her own doctor.

She drew in a breath at his insolence but then reminded herself that he probably knew nothing of her or her rules, or anything else for that matter.

She stepped closer and though his gaze never wavered, she could see he was still terrified.

"You should be afraid." she repeated. "I am Romulan High Commander Veexow but, unless you give me a reason to do so, I will not harm you." I certainly didn't go to all this trouble just to kill you myself, she mused.

His eyes - what was it? - yes! She saw it.

Distrust!

Absolute naked distrust mixed in with that ever present terror. She put a hand to his face and he flinched at her touch, actually backed up a step. His respirations increased until he was almost gasping for air. Alarmed at his reaction, she stepped closer. He seemed more terrified than reasonable.

Surely he finds my quarters preferable to where he was, she thought. She could not understand his thick fright that emanate from him in vibrations she could almost feel on the surface of her skin. She could smell his fear over and above his other not unpleasant scent as she stepped close to him and as he backed away. This series of small movements continued until his back was against a wall, one which hung with the woven mural of the shores of her families land.

Now she was inches from him and he stopped breathing for a few seconds, which startled her a little. Then he started again and she relaxed. For some reason, she wanted to understand his eyes, not just the color, which she couldn't place but what they were saying because for the present at least he either wouldn't or couldn't speak.

Perhaps he can't? she wondered. Perhaps he is brain damaged. Perhaps mute by birth?

But she peered at his other-worldly colored irises with her own black ones and knew there was intelligence behind them.

She smelled him again. Her doctor had had him thoroughly scrubbed but not perfumed. She smiled inwardly at that. Rhengar knew exactly what she wanted, always. What a treasure he was! If their classes had been the same, she would have taken him as mate in a single heartbeat. But - she sighed and moved away from the uncooperative human.

"So, you won't speak, is that it?" she turned to look back at him, his scent lingered on her, still filled her nostrils. It had an alien taste.

But she kept her back to him, showed him that he was inferior and property through indirect address. She was pleased to hear him continue to gasp in fear as he listened to her speak. She heard his unshod feet shuffle as he moved slowly along the wall behind her. She was not alarmed by it, there was nowhere for him to go.

"Well, if I was in your position, I would certainly have questions."

No response.

"Shall I ask them for you?" she asked after a pause.

"Shall I voice your question?" she asked again, and turned to watch him. He walked sideways, around and behind her desk but always facing her, watching her.

He moved well, she decided, approving the easy grace of his step. He was tall, as tall as she but not thickly muscled, rather delicate in fact. The texts had stated that such was the norm for his species and though this male's form was long and well proportioned, he was over thin.

Too thin for health. His ordeal on the Ferengi ship no doubt the cause for his gaunt appearance. He needed fattening up and she would have to arrange for some appropriately nutritious meals for him if she ever wanted to see him as he ought to look.

She weighed matters in her mind as she followed his movements and those matters were serious. There were risks in what she was doing. How was she too keep him? At least long enough to learn something of him and his kind, their most infamous enemy and greatest conquest? How keep him hidden and safe while she did so?

Only too soon, she knew the rumors would fly. No matter how loyal her crew and staff, there would be talk and the news of him would reach the ears of those who would not merely frown but seek his extermination as a risk to the Romulan State.

She was excited by this incredible find and puzzled by it too.

Where had the Ferengi's found him?

She must arrange for the imprisoned Ferengi crew to be interrogated on that point.

They had been delivering this human to someone. A pure-strain that was to have become someone's property, a human that had no business being alive.

The last known specimen had been put down in a Romulan Laboratory more than fifty years ago, yet this one was relatively young. She estimated no more than thirty earth years.

She remembered learning of their short life spans from what little knowledge remained of their species, creatures she had always been curious about, and if her estimate on this ones age was accurate, it meant he had already lived an entire third of his life!

By comparison some Romulans had reached the three hundred mark.

*Yet at one time the humans thrived while we nearly became an afterthought.*

She contemplated her people and how they had won their greatest power. Pondered the implications of what they had done to achieve it. There were always unforseen consequences, sometimes millennia away, but consequences that would eventually be played out.

What will be price for what we have done?

But for the present she ignored the thought of it. Uncharacteristic of her, she knew, but non-the-less.

*I want to learn about the extinct humans. I want to learn of this human.* She smiled at herself. *I always get what I want.*

"I believe my first question would be," she continued, ""Where am I?"."

His strange orbs glanced at her but he said nothing.

"I know you can understand me. I see it in your eyes. What is that color - your eyes? What do you call it?"

He stopped, rested against the bulkhead, leaning forward with his hands on this thighs, slumping, as if his short walk around the room had sapped all strength from him. As though he were ill.

She rose and approached him. Not too close. "Is it your breathing?"

He shut his eyes and breathed slowly in and out. It seemed to be great effort for him, that one involuntary physical action.

"I cannot help you if you will not speak."

He pressed the heels of his hands against his eyes as a spasm traveled over his body from bottom to top.

She quickly retrieved the medicine the doctor had left and set the instrument to deliver a small dose. But when she approached, he deftly avoided her touch by moving to other side of the room, all but stumbling to remain at a distance.

It made her angry and unsure. Flustered. What was she to do? "This will not harm. It will calm you."

Her patient inquiries resulted in his gasping and falling to his knees. He seemed to be shaking all over, burying his face in his hands.

Then, to her amazement, she realized he was not having some sort of fit, but was laughing.

Not from joy.

His expression seemed to her to be one of hysteria. When his hands came away from his face, she actually stepped back. Though unafraid she thought it possible he might be infected with some sort of viral agent and she had no wish to contract it.

His brows were drawn together over rounded eyes that held that same unreasoning fear she'd seen before.

And then, they shut and from between the lids, wetness appeared and flowed.

She watched, fascinated. The Texts also contained information regarding this phenomena; that, when a human experiences fear or sadness or pain, their eyes actually shed water. Extraordinary to see!

He was on his knees now, slumped over, cradling his head in his arms.

She wondered which it was: fear? Sadness? But he looked like he was in pain.

She moved closer again, determined to administer the dose without having to summon Rhengar again. She was becoming more than a little concerned regarding this human's state of mind.

This time, however, he didn't run. He didn't move from his spot on the floor.

She had not considered, as her arm reached to touch the instrument to his exposed forearm, that her rare zoological specimen might be tainted. If that were the case, she would have no choice but to destroy him. She was taking risk enough as it was but an uncontrollable study would be too much.

When she was a centimeter away, he raised his head and with red-rimmed eyes, whispered hoarsely: "Why are you doing this?"

Shocked, she didn't answer for a few seconds. Then, "You are ill."

He shook his head. "No. Where am - is...is this hell?"

Not understanding the reference. "Hhell? Is that a planet?"

He slammed his fists on the carpet. "STOP IT!" It came out as voiceless, high-pitched croaks. Suddenly, he was up and charging her, hands clasping around her throat.

She'd been unprepared for the burst of violence and his thin frame had sufficient velocity behind it to throw her off balance.

But not for long.

Deftly, she wrenched his hands from her neck, twisting his arms, first one then the other, around and behind him, far up his back. Then, with a vise-like grip and sheer brute strength, she forced him slowly to his knees.

But she didn't stop there. She pushed him forward until his right cheek was flat against the deck. There she held him, his legs bent underneath, knees spread far apart, immobile until he stopped struggling.

She held him longer, until he stopped gasping in rage.

Longer, until his breathing slowly returned to normal.

Longer.

Until she felt the tension leak out of his back muscles.

And longer.

Until she felt him relax completely. Until she knew he had given up.

And then to defeat him further, she held him there to prove to him that she was the more powerful. It was necessary to remove all doubt on that point.

When she saw the wetness appear at his eyes once more, she leaned in and spoke into his ear.

"Now you see how it is? Now you comprehend, human? What I wish is what happens to you. What I desire for *you*. You understand, so hear me very clearly: If you ever raise a hand to me again, if you ever look me in the eye without my permission, if you ever again raise you voice above a respectful monotone, I will have my Centurion Guards execute you the next minute."

She put her mouth right next to his ear so he could feel her breath. "Do you understand?"

The man under her made small wheezing, coughing noises, she was hurting him. But he said nothing.

"If you do not answer me, I will kill you right here, right now." And to prove she was serious she forced his left arm higher up his back, unnaturally high, in one lightening quick motion, until she heard it snap.

He cried out.

She whispered very, very softly, "Do you understand me now?", her lips touching his earlobe.

His mouth opened. A faint and scratchy "Yes.".

She realized she was restricting his breathing and eased up on her hold, then let him go completely, stepping up and back.

He lay unmoving. After a moment or so, he let his still functioning right arm, which she knew would even be sore, slide off his back. Then he moved his other arm, now appearing to have an extra joint in between wrist and elbow, his face twisted in pain. Moved it more slowly, groaning. But he forced it down to rest on the floor. It took him longer to get his feet under him, and cradling his broken arm with his good one, he moved to sit on the divan.

"No!" She ordered. "You have lost that privilege." She pointed to a spot on the floor by a wall where several large tawny colored cushions were placed. "You may only sit there now."

He moved without protest, and seated himself, resting his forehead on one knee, with his injured arm laying on the inside thigh of his other leg. He panted.

She knew he would be in considerable pain, but he needed to learn and the sooner the better. "I will call my doctor and he will repair it, and you will behave for him."

He nodded his cooperation and lapsed into silence but for his accelerated respirations.

When Rhengar arrived, he repaired the human's injured limb with practiced skill.

Afterward, the human seemed quietly astonished at the doctors handiwork, his arm being fully mobile again though quite swollen. He bent and flexed it, testing its range of movement and threw a grudging look of gratitude to the physician, nodding once.

The doctor coldly ignored him. He did, however, seem annoyed to be making his third trip to his Leader's quarters as a healer inside of a few short hours. He gave a respectful nod of his head to her before departing, one eyebrow on the rise indicating his unspoken opinion of her questionable choice of company.