A wide, soft, fiber-filled mat complete with coverlets.

He was curled up well over on one side.

She divested herself of clothing and slipped beneath the covers, coming to rest with her front pressed up against him.

He hadn't undressed and she knew it was his way of asserting his will in response to the sleeping arrangements. Knew why he would rather have preferred a hard bench to this. It was PhaHks' instinctive need for space and self-determination. The human craving for freedom.

He stirred under her touch and curled into a tighter ball. If she had any urges tonight only he could satisfy, such would have to be forced from him.

But that is not how she liked it.

Not from PhaHks.

His willingness is what she wanted and, most often, what she received if she played him well.

Veexow settled for sliding her arms around his sleeping form and pulling herself flush against his back. And she let her mind do the rest, taking her to that condition where he, tonight, would not go.

In private pleasure and practiced detail she recalled her first taking of PhaHks:

<< Morning repast, he eating almost nothing. (She had grown used to his sometimes alarming fluctuations in body mass. It seemed to be a human state).

He had gone running but had returned earlier than usual. This after she had allowed him near total freedom to run where he willed within her dozens of hectares of formal and informal gardens and grasslands at her Romulan estate.

PhaHks had seemed restless and withdrawn. Having also grown used to that, she had paid it little attention and had turned her face back to her computer screen.

Other times he had come (she assumed because he was lonely), to sit with her - always on the other side of the room - in her chamber during the evening hours. Therefore this visit was nothing unexpected at all and she had kept to her task of responding to her vast personal correspondence.

Until he spoke: "Who are you writing to?"

Her low murmur ceased and she switched off the computer. It was her first sign that night that something was going on with PhaHks. He rarely ever began conversations. And, until that moment, he had never once asked her about anything personal.

"I am recording a message to an old friend whom I have not seen for a long time."

He nodded, keeping his eyes on the floor in front of him. PhaHks was seated on her low divan, elbows resting on long legs. His fingers were laced and he kept rubbing his thumbs together, one along the length of the other and back again.

She watched the unconscious action, fascinated.

"Where does your friend live?"

Veexow sighed, softly so he wouldn't hear. Still, to this day, he pursued it. "He lives far away, PhaHks. Very, very far away."

The thumbs ceased their motions. He sat very still. She wondered if he was still breathing. Then, in the space of an eye blink, he was heading for the door.

"Where are you going, PhaHks?"

"Pool." He said before the door slid shut and she was alone again.

Veexow did not return to her communique' but sat and thought over what had just transpired. The meeting had disturbed her. She mentally replayed each of his movements and words, trying to discover what it was she had missed.

Nothing that leaped to the eye.

Except for the unheard of personal questions. And perhaps his voice. The fact that there had been no recognizable tone in it is what was niggling at her. There had been no tone at all. PhaHks' voice and words coming from that lovely mouth, but level and deadened.

He had been soliciting information. He'd just wanted to know...something. PhaHks had come fishing tonight.

For what?

When she had readied herself for slumber and approached her door to leave and quickly check on him, her habit, ensuring he was back from his bath and safe in his own rooms,...

...he was there.

Standing at her door.

Dressed in the dark comfortable clothing she'd had made for him. (Somehow the stiff, layered outfits of traditional Romulan dress seemed unstylish for him, a human. And his old, white clothes reminded her too much of the early days and of his pure, unadulterated hatred of her).

His clothes, now, were simple, but fit properly and, (rolling the image around in her mind), he did look ravishing in black.

As he did now, for the second time in one evening.

"PhaHks?" She was concerned now, at his expression. Completely unreadable.

"I can't sleep." He said and entered. Carefully measured steps he was taking. He might have been tight roping the edge of the Underworld.

"Are you ill?" she inquired, and not waiting for an answer, she moved to retrieve an ampule out of her private cabinet. It was a sleep drug, one she had given him before when his "N-sAHM-nee-ah" became intolerable.

And again he was there. Behind her.

It had been power she loved.

Not duty.

Not regulations quoted and obeyed from waking to slumber.

Power. The might the uniform had brought her and not the uniform. She had held that might for decades. Her shield and her weapon.

But on one night in a thousand, pale, cool fingers, heart-blood pulsing in each digit, came into contact with her pillar of strength. Rested briefly on thin material. Caressed shoulder skin.

Veexow the rock, turned, melting into the ocean-washed sands of his earth.

Deliberate contact on his part. A touch shouting a need too overwhelming to ignore. The final lap from an insistent water that had been washing against her since the beginning, now disintegrating the rock.

His look said *Help me in this way*.

She stared at his voiceless communication, the pill forgotten.

He had said, May I? He had said Please.

Veexow knew he was aware of her desire for him and had known since the beginning. She had carefully controlled it. With that knowledge, he could have come presumptiously snatching. Yet he stood quietly asking permission.

Respectful, enigmatic.

PhaHks.

Veexow took that first hand he had extended and placed it between her two. The beginning.

His eyes said things to her, whenever he raised them so she could see, before he dropped them back down to what she was doing to his hand.

His dilated pupils said Do you want me? They said I offer my sex.

She answered him by rubbing his one hand between her two, rolling his fingers sensuously as if they alone were the objects of her desire.

Powerful, but wanting. Aching for him for so long.

To provide that for which he clearly hungered, she panged.

He was a male near sick with need.

She was female and she could feed it, now, eagerly, because her hunger was greater.

Veexow recalled that very first lesson, so long ago, in rape-sex. She had not touched him again after that.

His withdrawn and fearful silence had taught her a thing about humans. That for them some wounds went unhealed.

She deeply regretted that miscalculation. Had not wanted him falling into perpetual silence and fear whenever she entered a room, which is how he had acted for several weeks after that unfortunate battle of wills. One victory that worsened the actual war.

Which had been her lesson.

His lips touched her face, barely a whisper of a kiss when he leaned closer. Feather-like on her cheek, the softness of them. The cool, moistness.

He was offering tantalizing promises in the here and now while she was racing ten steps ahead in her thoughts, planning, charting and imagining what she would do to him this night.

What would he be like?

She could see his chests quick movements, in and out, his panting. Human sexual excitement. What else would she learn from his body?

PhaHks' lips delicately placed tender kisses on cheek and neck. Human hands that began an exploration of her flesh (when she was wearing entirely too much clothing!).

With great effort she refrained from placing her hands on any part of his body. But for her eyes which stared at the quickened pulse of his throat.

His hands touched her. Moved.

Down her front and -

(She inhaled and was full of PhaHks fragrance).

- and cupped her breasts.

A bit of fear was there in him still. The sensation of his forbidden human digits was torture. She wanted him to enter her right there and then but she knew that was generally not the human way.

For certain, not PhaHks'.

Veexow could tolerate no more such appetizers. She wanted the solid food of him. His gentle, starving touch fired her.

She kissed back now. (But not lips. Not yet. Savor him. Keep the delicious parts for later). Face, throat, shoulder, chest...

At first, gentle, then more insistent, Veexow demanded. She was tasting, pushing, sucking. Her images becoming physical reactions in her swollen place. The first entry of him, how he would feel, inside her, engorged with sun-red-blood, long, and hard and wet and PhaHks!...and thrusting, THRUSTING!

It was everything she could do not to hurry things along and mount him. But she didn't want to scare him off with her Romulan fevers, which could become mindless desire if not kept in check.

She quickly led him to her bed, divesting herself of her own sleeping garment along the way. The chambers air was a sexual blanket, they would need no other draping.

She removed his clothing swiftly, expertly, slipping the tunic over his head without warning so he had to quickly raise his arms. Then she pushed his trousers down in one motion, taking selfish pleasure in raking the soft pads of her fingers over his backside and thighs on the way down. He stepped out of the pants and she did the same on the way up.

Veexow had unveiled his sex for herself. She had seen him in this vulnerable state before, but not in the offering of his body. Never with his approval.

He was beautiful...

**(She'd wanted him from the first, of course. From the discovery of him, certain of what she had found. Angry at Rhengars reaction when she'd voiced thoughts of keeping PhaHks:

<"Why do you obsess over this human? I believe you are drawn to him somehow." (Rhengar had said).

"Is that what you think? Do you honestly believe that I care in the slightest for what YOU think?!" (He had angered her. Had never before addressed her thus).

"What are you planning, Commander?-"

*Commander*, he had said. Not *M'Lady*. It hurt!

"-What are you planning? Children? A family? A whole new generation of HUMAN-oids with the blessing of the Romulan Government?"

"PhaHks is a curiosity, that is all! I..."

"Now you lie to me." (He had sounded deeply hurt, she had always been completely truthful with him). "I believe you would protect him, an Illegal, over anyone of us. Over me."

"Enough, Rhengar! Your over-reaction is typical."

"I am being the careful, pedantic Doctor Rhengar. You think me dull and conventional. What do you really know of me? I may be in love with you, Veexow." (the first mention of his feelings and the speaking of her name), "but do not presume to minimize me or my cautions. You had that girl killed because of this human. I am an accessory to a murder of my own species. I have tolerated much in your service. Now it is to my own detri- ment." (And then Rhengar had poured out his heart) "And you are no nearer to opening your eyes to me than when I first came to serve you. I am a fool but I have made my choices and am willing to live with them. To that extent my conscience is at peace. What will you do to cleanse yours?">

Veexow had known *what* PhaHks was: A human male.

Soon, (thrilled, aroused, obsessed), had learned what he *was*: Prohibited, exotic, fascinating, moody, sexual being).**

That first coupling had lasted hours.

When they, momentarily spent, laid back, he panting, a film of sweat evaporating from his skin and making little convections in the still air of the room, she satisfied and energized and hungry for more of him, they began again. Over and over, all night.

It was better than she had expected.

Better than she'd hoped.

After finally parting for the remainder of the night, she had slumbered like no other night before or any since.

The sleep of the confessed. Of the soul-cleansed and the contented, knowing that they have at last declared their hidden, baser truth, if only to their hired priest.

She passed into the netherworld satisfied and unaware of what their first night of lovemaking had cost him.

PhaHks slept the eternity of the self-condemned. A bloodless, crooked finger pointed up from hell. His own un alive soul had accused him and so he had entered.

Perpetually immolated in unearthly fires, he had drunk deeply the blood of the Devil and was dirtied. Even in dreams.

<>

PhaHks had awakened from that dream soaked in the sick sweat of understanding.

He became conscious. He comprehended.

When it confronted him, his living nightmare, he mourned with silent screams into his bed sheets.

Then fell asleep for a long time.>>>

Veexow, craving his sex but making no sexual motions other than to drape one leg over PhaHks, slept.

****

The next morning, Veexow took PhaHks' hand "Come with me, there is something I must show you."

And led him to a window.

A wide portal.

Alien world. PhaHks looked at orange and black. Tawny fire and shadowed cold.

Moonscape. A distant sun. White hot but too far to warm the planetoid nor encourage atmosphere.

Veexow let him soak up what he was seeing, then she spoke gently.

"This is Kol'keK. We may be here for some time. For now, this is your home. Kol has given us leave to stay as long as we wish. As long as needed. You may wander, PhaHks. You may go running, you may explore. But there are some things you cannot do here. You can't enter the Bay..."

(didn't know what "the Bay" was)

"...you can't enter Kol's private chambers..."

(didn't want to)

"...and you can't ever go outside."

PhaHks was very still. Veexow stood beside him also very still. He would scream, faint, cry, get angry, pound his fists, try to kill her or himself or he would accept it.

But PhaHks didn't seem to be doing any of those.

He only stared for many minutes on this outside world where he could never go. One that killed instantly.

Veexow sighed heavily. "I know you hate me for this."

Without a word or gesture of any kind, he turned his back on it and her and walked away.

Veexow did not know which for himself he had chosen.

Life or death.

In the days ahead, he never spoke of it.

*****

---------------------------------------------------------------------

PhaHks mostly kept his eyes on his food. Despite the quiet hum of conversation, he'd never heard such a chorus of baritone's, like low native drumming or distant thunders.

Including himself, seven was the number seated around a heavy stone table crowded with bowls of consumables and mugs. There were no utensils, eating with ones hands being the customary etiquette.

An intermittent sprinkle of food-laden saliva adorned PhaHks' supper whenever one of them laughed or was seized by a thought and spoke it. Plunging into the middle of a conversation without first swallowing, the young one across from him in particular had decorated PhaHks' plate with a rainbow of masticated bits.

Every so often, a servant (a blue skinned, hairless male) would appear out of thin air - it seemed - and lay down another bowl of stomach turning dead things. None of the partakers appetites appeared to be diminishing.

Veexow was paying more attention to her wine and PhaHks' delicious thigh than Kol's friends.

Knowing PhaHks would understand little of what he would hear, (he had picked up a good smattering of Romulan but less of Klingzai, being that she and PhaHks generally communicated in Old Human), she never-the-less had insisted that he accompany her to Kol's party. She firmly believed PhaHks needed the diversion as much as she did.

She and PhaHks had been with Kol nearly five years. This was the first time Kol had any other visitors, his little home not in close proximity to most systems. And spending any amount of time on an drunken Ex-Cleric's sterile moon was the choice of only a few, hardy souls.

Kol'keK (his moon) wasn't exactly uppermost on many traveler's holiday retreat destination list.

Kol, the consummate egoist, would not have agreed.

But these Klingons were different. All knew him well. None, upon seating themselves at Kol's table, had even looked askance at Veexow and then only puzzled a bit over PhaHks. Rhengar they ignored completely. Over Romulan Law regarding humans (regarding anything), Veexow could sense their mental indifference. As with most Klingons, the Law was *Romulan* law and nothing more.

In spite of the Klingonized repast, it was turning out to be quite a civilized affair.

She glanced in turn at each of Kol's dinner guests. These were more of Kol's crowd. None were members of the warrior class. All, rather, of clerical vocation or inclination. Some by bloodline.

Rhengar was present and polite but abdicated conversation. He disliked formal gatherings.

The topics of the moment were cerebral (Klingon version), and actually quite interesting.

"There are some who believe that a good honest war with Romulus would cleanse this tension between our two Empires once and for all. Some think the Non-Aggression Pact simply a delay tactic on the part of the Romulan Government, to fool us into thinking that the reason they do not want a war is because they could not win one."

The speaker was the eldest of the party, nearly bald. A learned priest of Kahless. "All the while, they are probably preparing for it while our warriors waste their time and resources celebrating their past "honors"!" His tone was contemptuous.

Another, the youth said, "The Romulans WOULDn't win."

The former sighed, having heard that and more from this idealistic member of the younger generation.

"You are a fool. Both sides would be evenly matched. It is too bad that the Romulans keep themselves so socially isolated. Still, to this day, they think that everyone in the galaxy should be acting and talking and *thinking* like them, and if not, "persuaded" to."

He smiled at his own joke, baring teeth not of enamel, but precious metals.

"The Klingon Empire has the experience to know that such a belief is ultimately self-defeating.".

A non-cleric but former student of Kol and present priest-intern of the old Klingon, spoke: "There are rumors that Romulus has its political eye on Ferenginar and its trade routes. They are trying to convince the Ferengi Exchange that a greater sharing of the profits with Romulus,.."

..eyed each table-member knowingly,

"..in other words: *taxes* would bring great benefits to Ferenginar.

"The Romulans would provide them with new technologies, cloaks and weapons. Not to mention trading passes to more distant systems."

Again, the old, wise Priest offered his insight: "If the Ferengi are stupid enough to believe any- thing a Romulan Official says,.." looking at Veexow, "no offense,.."

She was amused, not offended. He was correct.

"...then they deserve their fate."

The Blue-Man brought out another keg of ale, setting it by Kol's plate. No Klingon servants walked the halls of this house because there were no Klingons alive in the universe willing to play waiter.

Kol poured Blood-wine and passed the barrel to his right. It went around the table.

Veexow took it and poured herself a mug. Then she poured out a small one for PhaHks, who tried to indicate to her through a small shake of his head that he didn't want any. She ignored him and pointed to his cup.

He had been silent the whole evening, not speaking a word to her or anyone. In fact, when they had sat down at the table, he had shifted his chair over so it touched hers.

PhaHks had paled at the sight of so many Klingons all at once. Tonight was his first taste of a gathering here and the first since he'd been with her.

And Phahks had been nervous and jumpy all through the meal (she knew because he had not eaten a crumb), until she had placed a hidden hand on his thigh to calm him. Instead he had jerked, knocking over her full mug of wine and she'd had to pour herself out another.

Since then, he hadn't moved hardly at all, keeping his eyes on his food, her or, occasionally, Rhengar or Kol, whom he was used to. His untouched food had dried to wrinkled lumps on his plate hours ago.

Since he'd kept his weight acceptably average - for him - Veexow had decided not to nag him about it.

But, for the remainder of the meal, Veexow kept her hand on his leg, offering, now and then, a gentle caress to let him know everything was all right and that he was safe. In fact, all this secret touching of PhaHks was causing warm upheavals in her wine-tempered emotions and arousing tingles in her progressively relaxing limbs.

Rhengar had then excused himself and retired to his rooms for the night. He had seemed pensive.

Veexow dismissed thoughts of the therapist and pointed to PhaHks' mug again.

He sniffed it and took one obedient sip. It tasted like hundred proof prune juice with cloves.

Veexow wanted him to relax, maybe even enjoy himself a little. Perhaps he would realize that he didn't have to hide away, that he didn't always have to be in control, that things were improving and that he was alive and that *this* could be his life. Not a bad one either.

PhaHks sighed, exasperated. He drained his mug.

She poured him another and he glared.

"Where is your Sworn-One, Kol?" Old Wise Priest asked.

Kol looked around at the faces of the guests, as if expecting to find the person in question among them. "He has been gone for years. Was supposed to be back already." Shrugged. "Could be dead." And went back to his food.

"Well, did he go off on some quest of glory?" Old Wise Priest inquired, sarcastic but frankly curious.

"Well, he IS of the warrior class. What he does is his own affair." Kol offered in bored explanation.

Young Idealist: "How is it that a lone warrior pledged himself to *you*?'

Again, Kol shrugged, but was annoyed with the question. He was a Sacramentarian, an educated and rich Ex-Cleric who owned and entire moon! Why wouldn't some young orphaned warrior want to pledge himself to him. Besides, it meant he had a personal protector of his families honor. Even though he had no descendants, he was Kol! And the price - occasional food and lodgings - was hardly out of his budget.

"Perhaps he wants to socialize with someone of breeding?" Kol offered modestly.

A round of laughter was all he received in reply.

PhaHks didn't laugh. He didn't get the punch in. He was feeling woozy.

Old Wise Priest rose from the meal and wine. The other guests took this as a signal to get up as well.

"Kol," Old Wise Priest announced, "you are all Klingon." It was thanks for the hospitality. "But this was only one stop on our journey, and we must go."

Kol half rose out of his chair, too drunk to make it all the way, but Old Wise Priest seemed to take it in stride. He knew Kol's vices and had accepted them long ago.

The party, robes swaying in holiness, migrated down the hall. Their voices faded out. Clearly, Kol intended they see themselves to their own vessel.

Veexow knew Kol probably wouldn't have managed the trip.

""Breeding"?" She offered, a contrite smile about her mouth.

"Don't YOU start." Kol warned but glowing from inebriation.

"You would have been a High Priest by now. Perhaps even the Figure Head." (She hadn't added *if it weren't for your drunkenness.*).

"I was corrupted by a seductress, a Romulan Commander, no less."

"Oh, "corrupted"! You pursued me."

"Perhaps. But in the end, it was I who initiated my own moral downfall. You waved your power like a Beh'ah'Let, and I was defeated." He smiled at his poetry.

PhaHks listened, comprehending only a little of what they were saying. Because, just as at dinner, they were oscillating between her torturous dialect and his guttural clicks and groans that stood in place of real language.

But after years of being exposed to both, he was managing a phrase or three.

"You wanted that power!... (unintelligible)...have it for yourself." Veexow said.

Kol snorted. "Klingons value honor, not power. Power, control, is an illusion..." (Grunts. Clicks.) "...fragile..." (gibberish)"...only strong..." (nonsense)"...a club." Kol's voice had taken on the sound of fire and brimstone. "Respect, honor, has force..." (guttural groan), "...even in death."

Veexow waved away his hell fires. "We have held the Law for..." (no-clue) "...years."

"That Law is..." (long, throaty gurgle), "... crumble, Veexow, can't you see that?!"

Kol was up and pacing, the drink having worn off or perhaps having had completed its objective; that of numbing the Klingon's center of reason.

"Oh? And why is that?" PhaHks could feel her stiffening more and more with every Kol-spewed syllable.

"Because the Romulan Council underestimates...' (bark, growl) "...conquered. Always have."

Suddenly Veexow turned to PhaHks and enunciated in perfect English, "PhaHks, leave us. Next room. Wait." glaring at Kol.

PhaHks heard that unmistakable tone of voice that said he was to obey her in this. She would brook no arguments. It was clear the two were spoiling for a fight.

Assuredly, the dinner party was caput.

Feeling lightheaded and not wanting to be present for the screaming match anyway, he wandered into the next chamber, closing the heavy door behind him. At least the damn place was soundproof.

At least here, he was afforded a view of the outside world for a while. A desolate, shadowed scape of dunes and rock, darkening even more as the distant sun sunk behind the bleak moonrocks and thousands more stars became visible. What could be alive out there? Knew the answer before he'd asked it.

*

Back at the dinner table...

"...and you underestimate that skinny human I'll wager." Kol smiled at Veexow's sudden angry eyes.

Whenever he spoke of her new pet, she turned to fire.

"PhaHks is none of your concern."

"He's in my house, he's my concern if I wish him to be or if I do not. But as I was saying, you think he is defeated and passive. You believe that he thinks not of his home or that he has resigned himself to this..." Waved a hand, indicating the house and everything in it, "...comfortable prison you have provided, or rather, that *I* have."

"PhaHks *has* settled. We have been together for over seven years. He understands that this is his life now and that he has no choice. There is no way to return him home after all."

"Hah! What do you think he sees, Veexow?"

Shook her head. "And what are you talking about now?"

Kol was again at the wine jug but his mind was still sober. "When PhaHks looks out one of my portals and sees a lifeless, airless moon or when he looks to the night sky and sees a hot white star instead of the cool yellow of his Sol or when he looks at you,..." Pointing his mug her way.

"...he sees," not yet relinquishing the floor, "a dead moon, an alien star two thousand million KeHl'kems away and a woman, though a beautiful one, with the face of a demon." He paused so his point might meet its mark.

"And if you believe he sees anything else, then you are the one living in a cell."

Veexow stood erect and unwavering. "I grow weary of this. I am going to bed."

"You know I mean you no insult but it was necessary to tell you this, Veexow. You are blinded by your love for that human. Nothing else seems to matter anymore. It is disturbing. I,." spread his hands in defeat over his still captured feelings for her, "..worry for you."

She smiled, just a little. "You mean well, Kol, but I can assure you your concern is misplaced. Goodnight."

"I hope so." He said to her retreating back, "I hope so."

---------------------------------------------------------------------

***

PhaHks let his mind escape into the still-life of the portal. For a while, it felt good to think about nothing at all. And it was helping clear his fuzzy head - the wine had hit him harder than he realized.

At best he was still tipsy and didn't react right away when he heard a soft sound behind him.

Finally turning he found himself nose to nose with another Bonehead -

- *Cling-un!*

Veexow was constantly reprimanding him on his use of "pet" names for Kol. Wisely he had never mentioned his private list of variations on her.

This Cling-un was huge, PhaHks standing, in fact, forehead to chin with the gargantuan. The losing side of the equation.

When the demon-turned-man spoke, he sounded like Darth Vader (with a bad throat) on downers.

"Soooooo, YOU are the cause of it."

*English*. PhaHks found his voice and the guts to stare Ugly right in the eye. But his balls were doing the tuck.

"The "cause"? Of what and who wants to know?"

He was glad his voice didn't quaver as they each tried to out stare the other. They might have been two drunks in a bar challenging each other about who next got the pool table.

Not bad, PhaHks thought, considering he'd probably just granted Bonehead the moral right to crush his skull in its maw. After dinner snack.

"The dishonor..." Bonehead spoke the word as if PhaHks had just defouled his shoe. "...that is polluting this House."

PhaHks could feel the Thing's sour breath, glimpsed brown razor teeth edging curled back lips. He may as well have been conversing with a rabid rottweiler.

Jesus. He was about to die.

He wondered if he could diffuse this very bad situation and make an exit with all of his organs tidy.

"I don't know what you're talking about." he said, moving to pass the two hundred and fifty pound monolith.

Almost made it too.

Until a thick hairy limb wrapped itself around his throat, spinning him one hundred, eighty and slamming him back against the wall. The air rushed out of his lungs like he was a balloon and something had just popped him.

"The Romulan Bitch's human flower is not welcome in this House."

Managed to squeak out, "Who says so?"

His next lung full of air was squeezed off when an arm was switched for fingers, the Klingon wrapping one hand around PhaHks' throat. The thick digits nearly touched at the back.

"I am DhrAH'Ken. I am the Keeper of the Honor of the House of Kol."

So, fido had a name and obedience training too.

"Has she deflowered you yet human?"

PhaHks didn't like the direction this conversation was heading. But, all energies having to focus on locating a molecule or two of air, it was the least of his worries.

"What do you want from me?" He tried to sound brave, as if being nearly garroted was just another day and nothing special. Like this kind of shit had happened before.

Actually, it had. But at that time, he'd at least had a sporting chance.

"Surely, she told you there would be other interested parties?" The Thing pulled out from some hidden cache the most lethal looking knife he had ever seen. Three blades in one. The two little serrated blades flanking the main shaft like cock spurs. The larger blade had holes in it to, no doubt, pull asunder intruding flesh with each withdrawal from victim.

It was waved before his face and pressed against his rib cage.

"I have pledged my life to Kol and his House because I have none of my own. He has dirtied that honor by allowing in the Romulan whore,.."

The blade was drawn slowly down PhaHks' side, tearing fabric and separating skin. He stiffened. Felt the little stinging trickles of his warm blood.

"...and you. But Kol is old and his mind is weak. He does not know enough to kill that Romulan filth and I cannot do so without dishonoring him. So now it is up to me to restore that honor. Would you like to know how?"

Not really.

Actually, the question had startled him. He'd been busy listening to the rumbling cadence of DhrAH'Ken's voice. A storm was brewing in the creature and PhaHks knew its fury was about to come down all over him like the hammer of Thor.

Sheathing the knife, DhraAH'Ken, without further ado, sliced one finger down PhaHks' front, tearing open his shirt and pants sternum to groin. The answer cometh.

Oh, Christ.

He started kicking his soon-to-be rapist as hard as he could in the legs. All it did was loosen the talons at his throat enough to draw one lung full of Demon-stinking breath, making him cough violently.

He supposed his dying right that minute was not on DhrAH'ken's game plan, because the hand released him, allowing him freedom enough to pile to the floor. Which was just enough.

Absolutely sober, PhaHks coiled his long legs under him and sprang at his molester, driving his head forward as hard as humanly possible.

Bull's-eye, the top of his head rammed DhrAH'Ken's privates dead center. The fucker howled.

PhaHks didn't stick around long enough to figure out how many seconds his little trick had bought him and leaped to his feet.

He got in three running steps before he was again griped in DhrAH'Ken's steel pinchers and dragged into the next chamber, his legs dangling. One massive kick from DhrAH'Ken and the metal door swung shut with terrifying finality.

PhaHks was lifted up and thrown hard against the nearest wall. An octave of cracking ribs was heard accompanied by the crunch of skull against stone.

Dazed, he was barely aware when he was flipped around, his chest and groin compressed painfully against the unyielding structure. He could hardly breath for the hurt and pressure on his broken rib cage protecting uselessly his oxygen starved lungs.

His pants were ripped down to his knees. Felt cool air on his buttocks and hot breath at his neck. Calloused fingers spread his cheeks while a hand retained its death grip around his throat, clenching tighter, pinching off his air, whenever he struggled.

This was to be no gentle introduction to homosexual sex. This hadn't anything to do with sex. It was retaliation, revenge and retribution. He was to be raped, beaten, humiliated and possibly *eaten* all for the purpose of punishing someone ELSE!

There was no warning at all when a tree stump was cannoned up his ass, nearly making him faint.

Eternity was nothing grand.

It was being fucked in the anus without lube', preparation or consent.

It hurt so fucking bad, he was crying even as the barnacled son-of-a-bitch torpedoed him harder. Dick- barbs scraped him. There was lubrication after that. >From PhaHks' own bloodstream as his innards were churned to raw hamburger.

As quickly as it had started, it ended and he was dropping to the floor.

When his senses told him he was still alive and lying on the floor with his pants down around his ankles and his last shred of dignity seeping out from between burning cheeks, he opened his eyes.

Demon stood over him and the knife was back.

So he was going to die after all.

PhaHks' hands groped the floor around him, if for nothing else, then to find a place of leverage. If he could get to his feet-

-his hand found and wrapped around a wedge of stone. One that must have thoughtfully separated from the wall back when his head had introduced itself. He didn't care. It was thin, sharp and pointy and it was a gift from somebody's pitying deity.

Demon/Fucker got down on one knee.

Raised the knife.

Last words. Make 'em good. "You didn't even buy me drinks." He croaked. It hurt to talk.

The gallows humor was wasted on the Klingon as DhrAH'Ken leaned in closer. Grinned. "Now you die, human."

PhaHks couldn't prevent the knife from making that first deep cut to his arm when he raised his own crude weapon and plunged it into DhrAH'Ken's right eye.

He felt an immense surge of accomplishment when the prick screamed and fumbled to remove the offending flint.

When DhrAH'Ken finally managed it, he looked around with his one good eye and saw PhaHks hobbling out the far end of the chamber, hiking up his ragged trousers. The human started limp-running.

With a growl of rage, DhrAH'Ken wiped his own bit of blood from his eye, the human's pathetic weapon having only penetrated fatty flesh. He ran after the creature, who was proving to be a peskily innovative and quick-thinking prey. And one light on his feet judging by the distance he had managed in just a few seconds.

DhrAH'Ken was almost impressed.

But the human was bleeding and leaving a trail a blindman could see. The Sworn-One followed the pattern of little red blood drops. Soon, he would make a river of it.

**