The BLTS Archive - Uluhshan
by BGM (bgmanic@gmail.com)

---

Disclaimer: ST:DS9 and all related characters belong to Paramount
Pictures and Viacom.

Note: I'd been wanting to write this one for a while.  The idea of 
control by mere words is terribly erotic to me - I mean, we do it 
everyday, reading and writing erotica!  But I wasn't sure how to do 
that.  This was finally kicked into gear when I received an innocuous 
ICQ message.  It stated simply: "Good evening."  And then it was all 
clear to me.  I hope you enjoy it, I certainly had a LOT of fun 
writing it.

Note2: A lot of things that could have been described in third person 
were deliberately left out because I wanted to reveal it all through 
dialogue. You'll know what I mean. ;)

---
* MONDAY *
---

file://You have a textual transmission.//

Julian cocked his head at the odd announcement.  He eyed his computer
console warily, wondering who would request such an outdated mode of
communication.  He approached the screen and peered curiously at the
source ID.  Unknown.

"Computer, where is this transmission coming from?" he requested,
hoping that by asking he could incite the computer to dig a little
further.

"Unknown source signature," it replied blandly.

So much for that.  He sighed, pulled by curiosity to sit and access
the proper menu for textual communication.  A holographic keyboard
overlaid the data on the screen.  A single line of text scrolled by,
letter by letter.

<Good evening.>

Intrigued, feeling his face flush for some unnamable reason, he typed
in a response.

<Good evening ...?>

<Uluhshan.>

Bashir searched his memory for some correlation, and soon gave up the
search.  Probably the entity's name, though he doubted it.  If this
person had decided to use textual dialogue, they would probably be
reticent about using anything so revealing as their real name.  With a
certain amount of trepidation, Julian added his reply.

<Glad to meet you, Uluhshan.  Is there a reason why you are contacting
me this way?>

<What way would that be?>

Frustrated, Julian shook his head.  <By text.  It seems terribly
anonymous. Is there a reason for this secrecy?>

There was a long pause while Julian waited, swiveling in his seat
slowly. Then the letters ticked by one by one.  <You assume a lot of
things.>

Smirking, Julian's fingers flew over the holographic keys.  <Such as?>

<Such as me wishing secrecy.  I find that the art of letter-writing is
one that's been lost over the years.  I thought it would be a
fantastic change of pace to resurrect it.>

Julian pursed his lips.  <And is there a reason you have contacted me,
then?>

<You intrigue me.>

The answer startled the young man.  Him?  Intrigue someone?  That was
a laugh.  He said as much in his response: <I'm hardly intriguing.>

<You may think so, but others may think differently.  For example, not
many people would have decided to answer my transmission as you have. 
As you've mentioned, it reeks of secrecy.  It's not a comfortable
sensation, is it, to be called on by someone you know nothing about? 
Your mind must be following all sorts of sordid scenarios.>

Julian gaped at the stream of words on his monitor, blinking slowly.
Whoever this was, they certainly didn't hold back on the bold
approach. <Actually, I'm only curious.  But now that you mention it,
perhaps I should be more cautious.>

<You hardly seem like the type to be influenced so easily.>

<And how would you know?>

<I like to think of myself as a keen observer.>

Julian's eyes brightened.  <You're from Deep Space Nine?>

<I never said I was.>

<One cannot observe someone from very far.  I doubt you're all-seeing,
unless you're Q.>

There was another lengthy pause.  Then: <Describe your quarters to
me.>

Again taken aback, Julian puzzled over the drastic shift in topics.
Frowning, he replied, <What relevance do my quarters have to this?>

<It's a simple question.  I'm curious.  As you say, I'm hardly
omniscient. Indulge me.>

Sighing, Julian gave his quarters a cursory glance.  <It's your
typical quarters, nothing much to describe.  Two rooms, a few shelves,
a table, chairs.>

<I'd require a more detailed description than that.  It's hardly
telling.>

Julian pursed his lips again.  <How about you ask me a more specific
question about my quarters and we can take it from there?>

<Splendid.  I'm glad to see you prefer directness.  Probably a
scholar, or perhaps a psychologist?  Yes, I would see a counselor
respond to an anonymous transmission, if anything to experience the
thrill of discovering the other person out without visual and aural
clues.>

Julian smirked.  <I'm neither of those.  Take another guess.>

<Very well.  Do you have books?>

<Not books, but a lot of PADDs here and there.>

<What is on them?>

<Essays, research.  A few novels.>

<What is your favorite novel?>

Julian had to think about that one.  He drummed his fingers lightly
over the desk, searching his memory.  Then he typed: <I don't have a
favorite, really.  But I'm fond of Shakespeare and Hemingway.>

<Shakespeare ... Hemingway ... you like extremes, don't you?>

Julian had never thought about it that way, but it certainly looked
it.  <I suppose.  Are you talking about the styles that differentiates
them?>

<I'm delving more into general matters now.  What hobbies do you like
to indulge in when you're not working?>

Julian chuckled to himself.  <You assume I work.>

<A correct assumption; you hail from Deep Space Nine.>

<I could be passing by.>

<Then you would not have the luxury of speaking to me via your
console, now would you?>

Julian flushed.  <I suppose not.>

<So when you are not working, what do you like to do?>

<Tennis, racquetball, darts, to name a few.>  Julian stretched
sideways, inputting an order into the replicator.  A steaming mug of
raktegino materialized on the dais and he took it to his desk, peering
at his screen for the response.

<An athletic person.  You like to stay fit.  You also like games that
challenge your coordination.  In addition, you like Shakespeare.  I
must say, you are a veritable puzzle at the moment.>

Julian smiled with satisfaction.  <So I can safely assume, then, that
you have no clue what I do?>

<I have many clues, but I prefer to be certain before I voice my
answer.>

<I bet you do.>  Julian simpered as he sipped his drink, waiting for
the inevitable reply.  He was surprised at how much he was enjoying
this little game.

<We've already discarded counselor and student-->

As text appeared on his screen, Julian suddenly had a chilling
thought. Furiously he typed, <Wait,> and interrupted the other
person's transmission.

<?> was added.

<You have my coordinates,> Julian elaborated.

<Indeed I do, or else how would I have called you?>

<You don't seem the type to throw darts at a directory - and if you
are, you still would have known who it is you were calling.>

Seconds crawled by before the next line of text appeared, spelling out
his fear:

<Of course, Julian.  How nice of you to finally catch up.  This has
been most enjoyable.  I'll call you again soon.  Good night.>

The console bleeped, indicating that the channel had been cut.  Livid,
Julian stared at the last line on the monitor, his mug of raktegino
forgotten.

---
* TUESDAY *
---

"I haven't detected any anomalous readings from last night," Odo said
the following morning, peering at the stream of data.  "Likely it was
someone from the outside.  Or someone from here using a router, but
the sensors would have detected it."

Bashir scowled from across the desk.  "I'd really like to know who it
is that contacted me last night."

Odo looked up, shrugging his shoulders helplessly.  "If you like, I
could install a monitoring bug in your console if that person calls
you again."

"You think they won't?"

"Doctor, the universe is wide, and a lot of people are bored.  I
wouldn't concern myself with it too much," Odo said complacently.

"If it's all the same to you, I'd like that bug installed if they call
again.  I'm not comfortable with the idea of jumping the phaser just
yet, but ..." he shrugged.  "I also can't really deny that it was fun
in the beginning."

Odo smirked knowingly.  "Doctor, I constantly marvel at you Humans'
fascination with mystery.  I'll program the bug, in case you change
your mind," he nodded.

"Thanks."

---

When Julian retired to his quarters that evening, it wasn't without a
certain amount of anticipation.  He wondered if the person would call
again, checked diligently his monitor for any transmission he might
have missed.

Then, just as Julian had prepared for bed and slipped on his pajamas,
the console bleeped.

His heart thudding faster in his chest, he bent down over the console
and opened the channel.

<I trust I'm not bothering you?>

Julian sat down gingerly.  <I was heading to bed.>

<Excellent.  This leads me to my next question.  What are you wearing?
Nothing, I would like to imagine, but somehow I don't think so.>

Julian swallowed down a hiccup of shock.  This had become downright
lewd. Inhaling deeply, not knowing why he was considering an answer
instead of closing the connection, Julian typed in his response:
<Knowing me so well, you'd think you already knew what I wear for
bed.>

<How nice to see you're still with me, Julian.  I'm also pleased you
don't let such personal questions compel you to end our little
sessions.  Will you answer the question?>

<Blue pajamas.>  He felt quite foolish when he read his own words back
to himself.

<Ah.  Can't quite step away from the colors of your profession, can
you?>

<I happen to like blue.>  Julian had no idea why he was letting these
idiocies  affect him so deeply.

<Fair enough.  Julian, are you frightened?>

Julian widened his eyes.  Another question from left field.  <Should I
be?> he replied.

<Answering a question with another won't help this conversation
progress, I'm afraid.>

Julian sighed.  <I'm not.>

<Good.  My purpose is not to frighten you.  Merely ... know you
better.>

<By finding out what I wear to bed?>

<Among other things.  Tell me, Julian, have you someone waiting in the
sheets for you?  I'd hate to keep you.>

Staggered by the barrage of intimate questions, Julian typed in his
answer with a dazed sense of expectation.  <I'm alone.>

<How unfortunate.  A man of your looks surely would have better things
to do with his evening than spend it talking to an admirer.>

<Is that what you are?>

<Of sorts.>

<I see.>

<I doubt that you do.  But let's resume.  Why do you wear something so
clumsy as pajamas to bed?>

<They keep me warm.>  It was an absurd response, Julian thought
afterwards.

<Will you do something for me?  And then I'll release you to your
sleep.>

Julian was afraid to ask, but did so anyway: <What's that?>

<Wear nothing to bed tonight.  You'll tell me about it tomorrow.  Good
night, Julian.>

The console bleeped, startling Julian from his dismay.

---
* WEDNESDAY *
---

"And you *did* it?" Dax all but squealed at breakfast.

Julian gestured for her to keep it down.  He couldn't help a giggle
himself. "I know it sounds silly, but I thought 'what the hell'."

Dax shook her head, enthralled by this unexpected story.  "You mean to
tell me you've *never* slept naked before?" she said in a low voice.

"Is that so surprising?" Julian smirked.

"Well ..."

"Thank you."

"So what did you think about it?" she leered.

"It was ... different," he said around his twitching grin.  "Not at
all what I expected."

"Are you going to do it all the time now?" she snorted.

"Only if I'm asked to," he said, and they shared a conspiratorial
snicker. "I don't know what it is about her, she really seems to know
what she wants. Cuts right at the point.  I can't help but--"

"Julian," Dax said with an odd look.

He stopped talking and looked at her questioningly.

"What makes you think it's a woman?"

Frankly, Julian had no answer to that one.

---

<Good evening.  It's not too early for you, is it?>

<What else am I doing?> Julian typed, smirking.  Jadzia's question
over breakfast lingered in his mind, but he kept that one for later. 
Now he would see where this conversation would lead.  He had his
supper on the desk next to the monitor and picked at it occasionally.

<Have you done as I asked?>

Julian repressed a thrill of anticipation as he wrote: <I did.>

<Splendid.  Tell me, did you like it?>

<It was different.>

<How so?>

Obviously, this person wasn't going to settle for ambiguous
half-answers. So Julian replied, <I felt a little naughty.>

<I'm surprised, Julian.  What with your reputation whispering along
the grapevine ...>

<Those rumors are exaggerated.>

<Are they?  I'm pleased.  It wouldn't do at all to be associating with
the station's resident slut.>

A furious blush spread over Julian's face and he was relieved that no
one could see it.  The resident slut.  Those words lanced his groin
with startling revelation.  <And you have standards against that sort
of thing?> he typed with difficulty.

<Not really.  It would certainly make things more interesting if you
were.>

<I'm not.>

<Do you want to be?>

Again Julian felt the blood rush to his face.  This series of
questions was thrilling him in a way he wouldn't have expected; it was
decadent.  <I don't know,> he answered truthfully.

<Ah, an open mind.>

The breath froze in his throat.  Jadzia's voice returned full force in
his mind:  *What makes you think it's a woman?*

His hands trembling, Julian added, <The essence of intellect?>

There was a long pause.  Then, <You took the words right out of my
mouth.>

Julian felt his heart pounding furiously in his chest and he didn't
know what to do.  On one hand this could be mere coincidence, but on
the other ...

<Shall we continue?>

The words prompted him to action and he replied, <What do you want to
know?>

<We were discussing the possibility of 'slutting' around the station,
I believe.  I asked a question.  I'm still waiting.>

Julian tried to steady his hands as he typed,  <I answered it
already.>

<No, you said 'I don't know'.  I don't consider that an answer, merely
an evasion.>

<It's not.  I really don't know.  I mean, I can't deny that the
suggestion thrilled me in some way, but that's only natural.  I know
it goes against my better judgment.>

<In what way is it only natural?>

<Everyone has fantasies.>

<Tell me yours.>

Julian took a shuddering breath.  <Why?>

<I'll tell you what.  Describe to me your darkest fantasy, one you've
tried desperately to keep buried and secret, and I'll end this
completely.  If not, then I'll give you another assignment.>

Julian stared.  After a moment he found the courage to respond.  <Do I
have other options?>

<No.  Unless you want to shut down the channel altogether, and that's
your prerogative.>

After some thought, Julian shook his head.  <No.  I'll take the
assignment.>

<And you'll take one every night until you confess.>

The commanding words shook Julian's control.  His lower lip quivered
as though he was cold, feeling his body suffused with an odd hot-cold
sensation.  <Yes,> he typed.

<Good.  I'm feeling a little bolder tonight.  I won't be satisfied
with the thought of you merely undressed in bed.  Instead, I'll
exhaust you nice and well before you sleep.>

A pause for dramatic purposes.  It worked wonders on Julian's frayed
nerves.

<When you reach your bedroom, you'll find something on your bed.  I'm
certain you'll derive moments of frustration wondering how I got them
there; they're pleasure beads.  I'm sure you've heard of them.  And
I'm sure I won't have to instruct you on their use; you're a clever
fellow, you'll figure it out.  I want you to use them, Julian, and I
want you to bring yourself very close to orgasm.  But in no way or
form am I permitting you to orgasm.  When you've brought yourself
close to the edge twice, you'll re-insert them and leave them inside
of you as you sleep.  I like the idea of knowing you'll have a
personal item of mine in your body as you slumber away the hours ...>

Julian was too busy gasping in air to reach the end of the sentence. 
The heat was coiling from his collar, plastering the hair at the back
of his neck to his flesh.  When he finally read the whole thing, he
was dismayed and a little excited to feel himself desperately hard.

The text on his screen vanished and was replaced by another line of
text. <Do you understand?>

Julian hurried to answer.  <Yes.>

<I'll know, Julian.  Remember my orders.  Enjoy yourself.>  The
console bleeped.

Julian climbed to quivering feet.  He was painfully aroused.  He was
still uncertain about the identity of his 'admirer', but he had a good
idea.  And the thought merely made things more spurring.

He walked to his bedroom and indeed a string of large obsidian beads
was sitting primly on his pillow.  He moved gingerly to the foot of
the bed, looking at the object with wary distance.  The spheres looked
large, but he was fairly certain they could be encouraged ...

He gasped again, his heart thudding dully in his chest.  Whenever he
allowed himself to think about the situation he'd walked into, Julian
felt the painful stir in his groin and the desire that addled his
thoughts.

It was no longer a question of whether he would obey or not.

It was a question of whether he could pass the test without
ejaculating all over his sheets.

He approached the headboard and peered at the pearls.  An innocuous
symbol was etched on each of the black spheres in subtle burgundy.  He
picked them up, feeling their weight in his hand.  Light.  Not at all
heavy.

*Jadzia would kill to know what's going on now, if she had an
inkling,* Julian thought, dropping the object on his bed and going
about undressing. There was something oddly safe about this
'relationship' he'd struck with Uluhshan.  He was alone to perform
these, what Julian considered, obscene assignments.  But the mere idea
that it had been given, that it had been issued with the expressed
desire to know about the details later gave him an unnamable twitch of
pleasure.

He didn't think about it as he ordered the lights off and slipped into
bed, the beads streaming among the folds.  He held the string up,
feeling it through his fingers in the darkness.  The thought that it
had been held by 'Uluhshan' ... the thought that they were using it to
control his pleasure ...

Then Julian stopped thinking and slipped his hands under the covers.

---
* THURSDAY *
---

"You look a little stiff."

Julian started, mortified at the implication.  Then he saw Kira
looking at him oddly and he relaxed.  "I'm sorry.  I've had a rough
night."

"Well relax, okay?  You're making me nervous.  I don't like these
'physicals' already, you shouldn't make them worse," she scolded.

Thus, Julian tried hard to focus on the rest of the morning.  He was
restless, knowing he had slept but feeling as though he'd spent the
night fully awake.  His recently breached body was sensitized in an
almost agonizing fashion, and he was both enraptured and appalled at
how far this 'game' had gone on.

When he reached his quarters he skipped supper altogether and ordered
himself a snack to bring near his monitor.  The transmission came
moments later.

<I trust sitting isn't too painful for you?>

Julian squirmed on his chair and typed his response, <It's fine.>

<Now you know I'll require more details than that.  But first, have
you done exactly what I asked you to do?>

<Yes.>

<I believe you.  You must be feeling a little tense at the moment.>

*You have no idea.*  <I'll manage.>

<Of course you will.  I've no doubt of it.  Now tell me; how did it
feel like?>

<A little naughtier than sleeping naked in bed.>  Julian felt a little
giddy, his focus blurring slightly.  He had to remember to breathe.

<I should imagine so.  How long into the morning did you keep them?  I
was dismayed last night; I omitted to tell you what to do when you
woke.>

Julian felt absurd for the thought, but he hoped to make Uluhshan
proud.  <I kept them until I had to leave my quarters.>

<Excellent.  I imagine in your line of work, those beads could be a
little disruptive.  I wouldn't dream of interfering with your
professional life. Behind closed doors, however ...>  Uluhshan trailed
off at that.

Julian bravely went on, <They hurt a little at first.>

<Tell me.>

<I had to use some ... inventive ways to push them in.>

<I hope that at this point, Julian, you can be open enough to be more
precise.  What 'inventive ways' did you use?>

<I used my saliva,> Julian added, feeling the familiar heat spread
over his face.  He wondered with detached interest how his blood
pressure was doing.

<Hardly inventive, my dear.  But we'll work on that.  Go on.>

<I managed to push five in at first.>

<How flexible of you.  Your first time, too; I'm impressed.  Were you
erect at that point?>

<I had been before I even went to bed,> Julian confessed a little
guiltily.

<I'm pleased to know our little get-togethers haven't gone for naught. 
Was it difficult to resist, Julian?>

He sighed, a soft moan lining his breath.  <Yes.>

<What were your thoughts then?>

<You.>

<Did you toy with yourself?>

<Yes.  But I was careful.  I was already close.  I had to stop a few
times when I took them out.>

<How perfectly erotic of you, Julian.  How well I imagine the scene in
my mind.  Writhing among the damp sheets while the beads slip out one
by one ... a pity I was not there to see it.>

<Hmm.>

<Did you want me there?>

<I don't know.>

<I seem to remember telling you that evasive answers won't do with me,
Julian.>

<I thought of you.  I'm not sure yet if I wanted you there with me.  I
felt very ... wicked; it's not something I've ever done before.>

<I'll accept that.  When the last bead left your body, what did you
do?>

<Tried to relax.  My heart was beating fast, and I had some difficulty
concentrating.  If I had touched myself some more, I don't think I
would have been able to resist ...>

<I understand.>

<I guess half an hour passed before I did it the second time.  It was
more difficult.>

<How so?>

<I was already restless, it was harder to control myself.  It felt
...> Julian paused, unsure what to say.  What had he felt?

<Yes?>

<It felt satisfying.  Does that make sense?>

<Perfectly.  I'm very pleased with you, Julian.  We'll try something
even bolder tonight.  Unless you're ready to tell me your fantasy.>

<I'd prefer the assignment.>

<One would almost assume you were enjoying this, Julian.  I'll have to
keep that in mind and make a few alterations to my assignment.  I'll
contact you in one hour.  By that time I want you showered, undressed
and straddling your chair.>

<Straddling?>

<Spread, Julian.  Nicely spread, your knees apart; your cock will no
doubt be jutting toward the monitor at that point.  One hour.>  Bleep.

Julian blinked very slowly.

---

An hour later, the console activated and the line of text scrolled by
with its familiar pace:  <Have you done what I've asked you?>

Julian, feeling the first pangs of humiliation, nodded uselessly at
the computer.  He was undressed, straddling his chair as Uluhshan had
bade him to do.  His chest was rising and falling with angry breaths,
and he knew without looking that his cock was painfully erect.  He
typed in his response, his arms leaning over the back of the chair,
<Yes.>

<Are we feeling more like the resident slut now, Julian?>

A drop of sweat trickled down his ribs and Bashir quivered violently. 
<I feel embarrassed.  Humiliated.>

<But excited.  Aroused.>

<Yes.>

<How's your cock doing, Julian?>

<Hard.>

<You answered quickly.  I'm sorry I wasn't more precise.  I wanted you
to touch it.  A nice fist over it, maybe once or twice.  Imagine my
hand doing it.>

An unmistakable moan escaped Julian's lips when he obeyed.  His sex
was unbearably hot in his hand as he pumped it once, twice ... almost
coming all over the back of the chair.  He slumped against it, the
metal jolting his system when it touched his chest.  He leaned back
slightly and wrote, <Still hard.>

<I'm glad to see humor hasn't left you in your condition,> Uluhshan
answered.  <Is the back of the chair facing you?>

<Yes.>

<Nice and cold?>

Julian had a vivid urge to write 'you know they are' but instead
replied, <Yes.>

<Deactivate the keyboard on your console.  Instruct the computer to
translate your voice to text instead.  I want your hands free.>

Julian did as he was told, shocked by the sound of his voice when he
spoke; it was breathless, raucous with desire.  "It's done."

<Good.  Bring your hands behind you.  Cross them at the wrists. 
Imagine you're offering yourself to me ... to be bound for me.>

The image was highly erotic, stealing more of his breath.  He arched
his back slightly and linked his hands behind him.  "Done," he panted.

He peered at the line of text that quickly followed, <I require much
more than simplistic acknowledgments, Julian.  Tell me how you feel.>

"I feel vulnerable," he said, somehow more humiliated by his speaking
his mind.  "Open.  Terribly embarrassed."

<Lean forward a bit if you're not already.  Touch your chest to the
back of the chair.>

Julian did as he was instructed and felt the seizing cold stab his
flesh. He shivered, a faltering 'oooh' spilling from his lips and
filtering through the voice recognition module.  His own moan was
spelt out for Uluhshan to see.

<Good.  I can just imagine you squirming in that position ... so
terribly open and vulnerable.  Is your cock touching anything?>

"Yes," Julian said with difficulty.  "Part of the chair and my
stomach."

<How sad, to be trapped that way.  I suppose you're not getting much
stimulation that way, are you?>

"I ... want to come," Julian said, baring his teeth.  It was the
simple truth, stripped of modesty and all other concerns.  Much as he
was.

<I know you do.  But not yet.  Keep your hands behind you.  They're a
reminder that I want you bound from pleasure.  Until I know what I
want to know, you'll stay this way as inexorably as though I'd cuffed
your wrists. Understood?>

Julian managed a sighing 'yes'.

<Are you ready to tell me your fantasy, Julian?>

"I can't," he said, shaking his head.

<Are you willing to stay this way all night, then?  To continue
assignments that prevent you from sweet pleasure?  I know you want to
come, Julian.  I can almost smell it from here.  Your sweat, your seed
dribbling from your poor neglected cock.  Wouldn't you just love to
have release now?>

"I ... yes!" Julian sobbed, shifting against the chair.  The friction
caused him to gasp and groan, the sounds translated to onomatopoeic
words on his monitor.

<Tell me, Julian.>

"My fantasy ..." he laughed bitterly, arching his back and digging his
chest into the back of the chair more.  Now it was warm, but didn't
take away from the experience.  "We're doing it now," he panted, "This
... to submit ... to be controlled ... told what to do ... I'm
expected to play God everyday of my life ... I want the chance to be
toyed with ... I want to ... that makes no sense ... I want to come
... please, let me come ... "  The painful truth spilled from his lips
as he felt his cock towering with demanding need, the arousal lancing
him to the core.

<Julian ...>

Julian blinked sweat from his eyes as he saw the text scroll on his
monitor.

<Come, Julian.  Close your eyes, think of me ...>

With a cry he brought his hands to his cock, the mere act of gripping
it enough to send him tumbling into ecstasy.

He was oblivious to the last line of text that appeared briefly before
the transmission ended:  <Tomorrow, it'll be my hands on you.>

---
* FRIDAY *
---

"Garak," Julian said breathlessly over lunch.

The Cardassian trained his questioning gaze on him.

"What does Uluhshan mean?"

Garak smiled archly.  "Conqueror."  He glanced at the time.  "I
believe you and I have an hour to spend together, Doctor.  I suggest
we adjourn to your quarters and see what else of my native tongue I
can teach you."

---

The End