The BLTS Archive - It Didn't Take
by Jeanita Danzik

---

This is about Soren the androgynous person who had the affair with
Riker and was forcibly reconditioned as a result of it.  It is *not*
about Tolian Soran, the villain from Generations.  There's some sex in
here, but not a lot.  I didn't know what pronoun to use for a non-
gendered person, so for the (relatively) few times I needed to, I
resorted to 'It' with a capital 'I'.  I hope that's not too confusing.

Last but not least, a hearty THANK YOU to Althea who beta read this
for me and made extremely cogent observations with her usual
penetrating insight.  You *do* amaze me, you know.  These people,
this ship, they belong to Paramount.

---

Those were the very first words Soren said to him when Riker saw It
standing on the transporter platform.  There was no need to ask what
'it' It was talking about.  J'naii's barbarous practice of using
psychotectic treatments to reprogram 'deviants' had been elevated into
a cause celebre when word of it had gotten out.  Many peoples' rights
groups harshly criticized this practice--The Pan Alpha Quadrant Folks'
Alliance protested bitterly, and even the stodgy Vulcans submitted a
stinging remonstration against the J'naii to the Federation Council.
It was ineffective since the J'naii were not members, but it made the
Vulcans look very righteous.

It was much more personal for Will Riker, who'd experienced no end of
pain when Soren rejected him.  He could have become a poster boy for
the various foundations and groups that wanted to champion him but to
their disappointment he declined to have his personal business exposed
any further than it had to be.

Now his lost love was standing before him, and Riker, who'd had to
force himself not to run from the lift to the transporter room, merely
stared at It because he couldn't believe his eyes.  He'd closed his
mind to the possibility that he would ever see It again, and so was
unprepared for the longing and terror that washed through him.

"So.  Now.  You're.  Back."  He didn't want to make it a question
because it probably would have been accompanied by the sound of knees
hitting the floor as Riker knelt at It's feet and begged It to please
stay.

"I'm not quite as I was before, but the minute I knew the conditioning
was wearing off I had to come find you."

'*She*,' Riker was saying to himself.  'I can call It 'she' if It's
left J'naii... if *she's* left J'naii.  "Oh, Soren."

The transporter tech, who had started humming rather conspicuously,
announced to the air that he'd dropped his earring somewhere in the
hallway outside and had to go find it.

Riker pulled himself together enough to smile gratefully at the
flustered tech.

"We'll go," he offered.  He was still quite stunned; afraid to
rejoice, but too happy to be able to control his feelings.  He walked
out of the room with no clear idea of where they were going, making
small talk because he didn't know what else to do.

Soren was extremely relieved at his reaction.  It knew It had hurt
Will badly, so It warned Itself not to be surprised if he sneered and
turned on his heel.  That he obviously still loved It and was pleased
to see It was more than It had imagined possible.  It wanted to beg
Will's forgiveness and ask for another chance, but that was not
something one did in a hallway full of strangers.  It tried to follow
Will's lead, but It knew It's eyes gave It away.

"They say the flights from Rigel are always crowded this time of
year," Will was saying.

It looked straight at him.  "Yes."

"I hear that they're putting more ships into the line every day
though."

It's eyes caressed his face.  "Yes."

"I imagine you probably wanted to pilot the vessel yourself," Will
said.  He sounded a bit distracted, barely able to get the words out
for staring at It.

"Yes," It repeated, an answer to all the questions he had not yet
voiced.  Now that he was here in front of It, Soren yearned for him
even more strongly.  It's fear that It was mistaken about It's
feelings vanished completely.

"Yes?" Riker echoed delightedly, reading It's eyes like he'd always
been able to do.

"Yes," Soren affirmed again, It's voice a wee bit huskier.

They barely made it inside Riker's quarters before their hands were
all over each other.  Will forgot all his skill and sophistication,
and clutched at It with need and raw gratitude.

"I missed you, Soren."  He was holding It to him tightly, engulfing It
with his larger, bulkier body, kissing every place he could reach.
"God above, I can't tell you how much."

It turned Its face up to kiss his mouth, one hand fumbling with the
fastenings of his uniform.  The other hand captured his roaming
fingers and brought them down to rest against Its genitalia.

He remembered that It was like that.  Very direct.  The last time
they'd been together, It had sighed with pleasure as It fondled
Riker's penis, then lay him down and wrapped Itself around him
hungrily.

Will remembered what It liked.  "Can I call you 'she' now that there's
no one to hear us?  I think I forgot that time, at your hearing," he
babbled in apology, "and I won't if you don't want me to, but if you
don't mind..."

"I would very much like you to call me 'she.' 'Her,'"  It's breathing
grew heavier as It searched for other human terms for what it was.
"Lady, Missiz?"

"Mrs.?"  Most of his clothes were in serious disarray by now and he
was fumbling with his boots.  "I like the sound of that," he said,
then realized with surprise that it wasn't just a line--he really
meant it.

"Which one do I use to refer to myself?"  It's boots were off and It
was running It's hands through Will's chest hair, delirious with the
freedom of being Itself again after a long repression.

"Tell you in a minute."  He was removing It's pants, too distracted to
think about pronouns.

They were on the floor now, covering each other.  Riker would have
promised It a grammar lesson to end all grammar lessons, but his mouth
was busy elsewhere.

---

Picard was just deciding to page Riker and mildly take him to task for
his prolonged absence from the bridge when a message came in from the
J'naii government, forwarded through headquarters.  He took it in his
ready room, read the contents, and suddenly realized what was taking
Riker so long.

"Computer, location of Commander Riker."

"Commander Riker is in his quarters."

"Is he alone?"

"Negative."

Picard sat back in his chair, trying to decide on a course of action.
He was ready and willing to take on the J'naii government. In fact, he
relished the prospect of the battle that would ensue when Riker and
Soren refused to allow themselves to be separated again.  Of course,
he calmed his excitement, there might be no battle.  Will and Soren's
wishes were paramount, and at this point he had no idea how their
reunion was progressing.  They might be arguing bitterly for all he
knew.

When another hour passed and Riker still did not show up, Picard
decided that his first officer had experienced enough of a reunion and
was now just showing off.  He paged Will and asked him to please bring
his guest and come to the ready room.

"Aye, Sir."  Riker at least had the grace to sound embarrassed.

'Oh, yes,' Picard thought shrewdly when Will arrived.  'We're going to
have a fight on our hands.'  Riker had 'the look;' dazed, amazed,
shyly happy, slightly defiant yet remarkably tension free.  His guest
looked serene but with that same hint of defiance around the edges.
Picard forced the knowing smile off his face and kept his tone
professional and businesslike.

"Soren, I have within the past several hours received a missive from
the J'naii government demanding your return."

"Soren requests asylum," Riker said at once.

"Let Soren speak for Itself, Will."

"Actually, Captain," Soren's voice was soft but determined, "I prefer
to refer to myself as 'her.'"

She and Will met each others' gaze, then both looked down, wearing
identically bashful smiles.

Picard had to fight a little harder to suppress his reaction this
time.  He was proud of himself for not rolling his eyes at the byplay.
"Very well," he agreed.  "I shall address you according to your
preference.  There remains the question of how to respond to your
government's concern.  They have asserted that you may be a danger to
yourself and others and they have requested that you be held in
custody for your own protection until they can come collect you."

Soren sat up very straight.  "As you know, Captain, I was reprogrammed
when the nature of my relationship with Will was discovered.  They
wish to confine me because my reprogramming apparently didn't modify
me as completely as it should have."

She and Will exchanged glances again, and Picard took a moment to
thank whatever forces had brought his first officer another chance at
happiness with It... her.

"You believe it is their intention to subject you to another round of
treatments?"

"I do."

"And you do not wish it?"

"I do not."

"What do you propose to do now?"

"I will stay here with Will," she answered.

Picard nodded.  He'd expected nothing else.  "Are you hereby
requesting asylum?"

Soren looked at him thoughtfully.  "I'm not certain yet."

"Soren!" Will protested.

"Will, the last time I made a decision on this matter I caused you a
great deal of pain.  Do not blame me for considering all my options
carefully this time."

Picard nodded.  "Bear in mind that unless you've been granted asylum I
will have no choice but to turn you over to representatives of your
government when they arrive.  I am personally disinclined to do so,"
he said into Riker's gasp of protest, "but the decision will have been
taken out of my hands."

He looked into their tight faces.  "Would you like some time to
discuss it?"

Will looked like he was ready to argue the point, but Soren answered
calmly that they would come back to him when they made a decision.

As they rose to leave, he called after them to go to Dr. Crusher so
that Soren could be examined.  "It's important that we find out what
caused Soren's reprogramming to fail or they may be able to use that
against us."

They didn't answer.  He wondered if they'd even heard him.

---

Several hours passed before Picard got a request from Crusher that he
come down to sickbay.  He was surprised to find Will and Soren still
with her, but apparently they'd only just arrived.  Beverly wore the
little half-smile that said she was excited about something.

"What is it?" he asked her.

"I'll let Will and Soren tell you," she teased.  "I have to dig up
some more information about brainwave pattern norms for the J'naii."

He walked past her to find the couple standing by one of the medbeds,
holding hands.

"I take it there's news," he said gently.

Riker turned to him, looking more dazed than ever.  "Soren and I would
like you to marry us."

"Ah."  That would make it conveniently difficult for the J'naii to
claim her.  Married to Will, Soren became a Federation national and
would not be subject to J'naii demands.  It... she, he reminded
himself again, would have all the formidable protection the Enterprise
could offer, and there would need be no asylum hearing.  An added
bonus was that Picard enjoyed performing marriages.  He liked to be
involved in the romanticism yet a step removed, and he loved the
attendant feeling of relief that he himself had evaded matrimony yet
again.  "I am, of course, at your service."

"Thank you, Captain." Riker answered.  "We'd like it to be as soon as
possible."

That, too, made perfect sense.  So it was that Will and Soren were
married less than thirty minutes later, attended by the usual
gang--Troi, Crusher, Data and La Forge.  The only one missing was
Worf, who couldn't possibly have gotten from Deep Space Nine in time
to attend.  It was a strange little affair.  Riker had gone to each
one of them, told them he was getting married in Picard's ready room
and asked if they'd stand as witnesses and guests.  Shocked, not sure
if they should be ready for a punchline or not, they all called
replacements for their posts and were now crowded together by the sofa
while Will and Soren faced Picard.

Standing authoritatively before them, Picard couldn't resist the
opportunity to expound on the nature of what was about to take place.
The marriage was being recorded for posterity, naturally, as well as
for evidence of Soren's undisputed right to protection, and it was
appropriate that he address both issues.  For a moment he wished he'd
worn his dress uniform, but they hadn't even wanted to wait that long.

"This marriage," he began, "is both a pact of love and an act of
protest.  It will embroil you in politics, and the scrutiny of
outsiders even as it envelops you in the warmth and support of a
committed relationship.  Yet despite the complications which lay
before you, I celebrate this union for it's dedication to the ideals
of liberty and personal freedom, as well as for being a testament to
the enduring quality of love.  William Riker, Soren; as you move
through the trials that surely await you, remember that much is asked
of those to whom much is given."

He cleared his throat.  "Do you, Will, take Soren to be your lawfully
wedded spouse?"  As Soren was not, by legal definition, female, he
deliberately used the gender-neutral term so that the union's validity
couldn't be challenged on a technicality.

Will cleared his throat as well.  "I do."

"Soren, do you take William Riker to be your lawfully wedded spouse?"

"I do."  In that moment she even looked like a bride, smiling up at
her soon-to-be husband.

"Then by the power vested in me, I now pronounce you married to each
other."  He raised his eyes to his still-shocked command

crew.  "Let it be witnessed that these two are now joined in a state
of matrimony."

"I so witness," they all responded dutifully.

He turned them around to face the four watchers.  "Ladies and
gentlemen, I give you William Riker and Soren, newly joined as
partners in marriage."

Beverly and Deanna clapped enthusiastically and rushed up to politely
hug Soren then throw themselves on Will in strong embraces.  Data
gauged the strength necessary to give Riker the standard experience of
the men's hug--right hands clasped between their bodies, left arms
pounding shoulders--without leaving him with crushed bones.  Picard
shook Soren's hand, decorously pecked It's cheek, hesitated, then
threw his arms briefly around Will before disappearing.  Geordi pumped
Will's hand and congratulated Soren.

"Well," Deanna stepped gracefully into the slightly awkward lull that
ensued.  "You certainly know how to throw a curve ball, Will."

"Now it will be a bit easier for us to fight Soren's extradition.
This seemed like the best solution."  He fooled no one.  For all the
pragmatism of his response, Will's eyes were soft with happiness.

"Yes." Soren supplied.  It still appeared very composed.  "We expect
representatives from my government... my former government to arrive
soon and we need to be ready for them because they wish to bring me
back to J'naii for more psychotectic treatments."

And what was there to say to that?  Another awkward silence ensued,
this one of some duration.  It was obvious that this was a marriage of
love and convenience mixed, and they weren't familiar with any
protocol that covered this type of arrangement.

"Well, we should let you have some time alone," Beverly offered
politely.  "And I have to go do my part.  Soren, I'll probably need to
see you in sickbay again very soon."

"And I should get back to work.  Congratulations Soren,
congratulations, Will."  Geordi disappeared.

"I should get back to work as well," Data added.  Thankfully, he
didn't try out any new congratulatory subroutines, simply adding that
he wished them both the best.

Deanna spoke last.  She and Will stared at each other, volumes passing
between them.

"Do you understand?" He finally asked.

"Yes," she smiled, "I do.  I know you'll be happy."

She slipped out, leaving Will and Soren alone in Picard's ready room.

'I'm married,' Will thought wonderingly, excruciatingly aware that he
didn't really know what that meant.  He'd taken note of Picard's
careful language, but to him, Soren was not a marriage partner or a
spouse; It was his wife.  *She* was his wife.

They stared at each other.

"This disappoints you somehow,"  Soren observed.

"Yes," he admitted.  "It's not how I envisioned myself getting
married."  When he thought of it at all, he'd envisioned doves on a
big white cake and a black tux and a jazz band; food, merriment, the
whole nine yards.

"It can be undone just as easily.  We can find another way to be
together."

That snapped him out of his momentary funk.  "No!  I don't want to
undo it.  You're my wife now, Soren, and I'm only being selfish."

And then, Will Riker, who couldn't win a poker game without wanting to
celebrate with his friends, soberly took his wife home to begin their
new life.

---

"I don't know.  I found it strangely appropriate."

Beverly and Jean-Luc were at breakfast, discussing their friend Will's
hasty wedding.  Beverly had enjoyed it but to Picard it felt
incomplete somehow.

"You're romanticizing a situation that will probably turn out to be
critically difficult," he chided.

"But it *was* romantic," Beverly insisted.  "Think of it--love brought
them together even through the most extreme odds," she sighed dreamily
then caught Jean-Luc's expression of disgust.

"You're hopeless," she protested.

"I'm saving my hope for when they'll need it most," he replied.
"Admiral Shanthi called on behalf of the J'naii, and when I told them
Will and Soren were married she actually cursed at me."

Beverly sobered, imagining that scene.  "Those two are going to have a
rough road ahead of them," she agreed.  "I didn't tell you, but
Soren's conditioning will probably try to reassert itself.  I'm
calling in..." she hesitated briefly.  "That same specialist who
helped you after we got you back from the Borg."

Picard nodded and tried to pretend he didn't suddenly feel tense.
"That's good.  He helped me a great deal."

Beverly watched him turn a bit green around the gills and changed the
subject.  "I was glad of your wedding speech yesterday.  That will be
hard to ignore."

"Oh, I'll need to do a good bit more than that if we're going to win
this one, Beverly.  This touches on the J'naii's very self- identity,
and I don't think they'll back away from this without a fight."

He told her in some detail about the research he'd done after he'd
left them yesterday afternoon.  This was the sort of thing he
relished--a war of principles versus custom; states' rights versus the
rights of the individual.  He'd spent long hours digging through
Federation legal files and firing messages off to his sometime friend
Phillipa Louvois.  He intended to find every precedent that would help
him win the battle that lay ahead.

---

Will, meanwhile, awoke to an unfamiliar presence in his bed, wondered
who it was, then thought,  'I'm lying in bed with my wife.'  He felt a
moment's sheer disbelief.  This had seemed so easy when he'd watched
his friends do it, and it had felt so perfect yesterday, standing in
front of Picard and saying 'I do.'  He and Soren came home to make
love to one another again and again, their passion meshing into one
unending cycle of rest and sex, more rest and more sex until they'd
finally fallen asleep in the wee hours.  Now he almost wished there
had been no time for the traditional three days of privacy because he
didn't know what to do next.

But meanwhile he could watch her face, quiet in slumber.  '*My* face,'
Will thought, meaning that he now had an emotional claim to her.
'Your face,' he thought fondly, loving her more with each passing
second.  It was going to be difficult for him to remember that this
business of living as a woman was a brave and dangerous step for her.
She'd grown up hiding her instincts to femaleness as an obvious
aberration.

'Such a strange tension,' he mused.  To him, she was very much more
neuter than the conspicuously buxom women he usually sought out.  He
remembered how Human femininity seemed so exaggerated and obvious
after his brief liaison with Soren, and how he had yearned for the
nearly non-existent bosom and straight lines of her physique for a
very long time after she'd gone.

He worried briefly that his masculinity might seem vulgar and
overbearing to her, and he had to firmly remind himself that she'd
sought him out because of that very thing.  Something about him made
her want to assert her identity as a gendered person--a female--and he
was very proud of that.

'My brave and strong wife,' he mooned dreamily, remembering that awful
hearing in a completely different light now that she was back with
him.  'Standing up for herself in a society that punished truth with
unbeing.  Refusing to be silenced.'  Her strength made him feel
courageous.  He would face those damned J'naii terrorists and he would
tell them to go straight to hell and take their repressive culture
with them.

Will stirred restlessly, ready to get the day started.  His  rustling
woke Soren who opened her eyes and looked at him.

He smiled--grinned, actually, and she smiled back.

"Why are you staring at me?" She asked.

"In my mind I'm calling you 'she,'" he answered.  He shifted onto his
side.  "I'm thinking about how much I love you.  How proud I am to be
married to you."

"I love you too, William Thomas Riker, descendant of Iron Boots."

He'd told her that story then later felt like a fool because she
couldn't possibly be interested in his ancestry.  Now he was delighted
that she remembered.

He was about to elaborate on his ancestor's exploits, but then he
thought it might be better to address the issues that were slightly
more complicated.  "I was just thinking that it might be difficult to
adjust to being openly female."

"Mm.  I was thinking that it might be difficult to fit myself into
another culture and a different set of behaviors."  She shifted,
facing him with a thoughtful expression.  "I would like to, though.
To live as female.  To also learn more completely what 'male' consists
of so I know what not to emulate."  She gave him a sly smile.  "Now
that I know not to look for a dog's tail."

He smiled back, remembering his uneasy, joking response when she'd
first come to him with her direct questions about gender identity.

"You don't have to emulate anyone, Soren.  Just be yourself." "It
would be good to learn where the boundaries of being female are," she
answered seriously.

"We like to think we have very few boundaries,"  he said, aware that
he was piously mouthing Federation policy on equality of gender with
no real idea of how it applied to the two of them.

"But if I don't recognize them..."

"You will in time."  He shifted closer.  "Can I kiss you?"

"I would like to get up."

He was a bit taken aback.  He hadn't been negotiating, so it never
occurred to him that she wouldn't say yes, but this was Soren, and
everything was different now.  "Okay," he answered with equanimity,
"bathroom's that way."

---

It was to his credit, Will thought, that he did not falsely attribute
his newly-acquired buoyancy to the fact of his marriage.  It was a
human weakness to look outside oneself for emotional fulfillment, so
he resisted the temptation to claim that he was happier now that Soren
was in his life again.  It would be unfair of him to make her
responsible for his feelings.  Never mind that he smiled whenever he
thought of her, or that his heart always beat faster when he saw her.
Or that he now measured beauty in terms of how like or unlike it was
to Soren's face.  No, Riker was a reasoning, enlightened man, and he
knew how to be his own person.

Picard and Troi nudged each other and smiled.  This was Will's second
day back from his three days of leave and they noticed that he'd taken
to fits of daydreaming.

"Counselor," Picard leaned over to murmur sotto voce, "how long do you
think it will be this time?"

Deanna pretended to think about it.  "Count backwards from ten?"  She
suggested.

"Ten, nine, eight," they started in low voices.  Riker whipped his
head around at 'six' to find them smirking at him.

"What?"

Troi and Picard exchanged glances.  "Only six this time.  He's getting
better."

Riker blushed.  Picard tried for an expression of long- suffering
patience but his eyes were so amused that he wasn't very convincing.

Deanna smiled sympathetically.  She enjoyed the feel of Will's little
flights of distraction, aware that, for a newlywed, they were all too
few and far between.  Will was good at hiding his worry, so Picard
could not be aware of the times when he sat in his chair and fretted,
but she always knew.  The deprogramming specialist was on board
working with Soren, and the process was exacting and difficult for
everyone involved.  She herself was confident of the results, but that
didn't make it any easier for Will.

Deanna attended every session because Soren's mental health would be
her responsibility when the specialist left.  Beverly monitored the
procedures closely, worried that she did not have enough data on
J'naii brain structure if something went wrong.   The deprogrammer,
considered the best of the handful who worked for Starfleet, was not
particularly worried.  His area of expertise was the mind, not the
brain.  He'd gotten good results with even less information, but
Beverly felt responsible to Will and Soren, so she indulged her need
for caution.  She'd insisted on several baseline scans of Soren's
brain, and she made the specialist perform several trial runs before
he actually got to work.

To their mild annoyance, Will showed up for his wife's deprogramming
sessions as often as he could.  He was usually in the way, but he
insisted on being there.  Beverly and Deanna ran interference when the
specialist made family-members-should-wait- outside noises, but they'd
carefully warned him that they would not have time to hold his hand
when things got gruesome.

"We're also recording this in order to support proof of coercion, so
if you faint," Beverly told him, "there's a chance the entire
Federation will see it."

Will hadn't understood the degree to which her warning made sense
until Soren was under the effects of mind control drugs and
hypnosuggestion.  That's when he got a truer picture of the heinously
effective methods of the J'naii brainwashers.  If they'd implanted
loathing or revulsion for the idea of perverted sexual practices, it
would have been easy to ferret out.  Instead, they'd gone back to her
earliest childhood to root out her very sense of herself as different
from others.  By the time they reached her initial encounter with Will
she felt a vast indifference to males in general, and they'd been
careful to give her a specific disinterest for Riker himself.

The deprogrammer started from the present and worked backwards.  Riker
watched his wife smile as she recounted seeing him walk into the
transporter room after so many years apart.  Her description of their
reunion was so warming that he wasn't even all that embarrassed when
she explained how they couldn't stop touching each other.  But they'd
proceeded only a very few days into the past when her expression
became bland and uncomprehending again.

He tried not to feel hurt.  He tried to confine his anger to the
people who deserved it.  It was hard to face those memories again--the
utter futility of his appeal to the magistrate; the way Soren stared
at him so longingly as they led It away; Picard's warning; Worf's
support; their mad attempt to rescue her; Soren in the garden, It's
passion turned grey and flat; It's sympathy.  Sympathy!

"I shouldn't feel like this, Dee."  They were in her office after the
second session.  Soren was resting alone--something the specialist
insisted upon if she were to fully reintegrate her natural
feelings--and he and Deanna were waiting for her to wake up.  "I
should be grateful."

"Why, Will?"

"None of this was her fault.  She did everything right.  Hell, I'm the
one who tried to get her to lie about what happened and she wouldn't.
She's my wife.  How can I be angry with her?"

"What about hearing her say that your feelings don't matter?  That
you're not important to her, and she can't imagine why she even wanted
to talk to you, much less become intimate."

Riker paled.  "I have to keep telling myself that it wasn't really
her.  I have to keep remembering that she ran to me the moment she had
an opening."

"But it hurts," Deanna prompted.

"It hurts," Will agreed reluctantly.

Deanna showed him the recording of the specialist's briefing session
with herself and Beverly.  In it, he explained that the original
reprogramming, not rising organically from the natural bent of Soren's
thoughts, had to be tacked on wherever they could find space for it.
It was very much like adding a room to a house.  No matter how
carefully it was planned, it destroyed the symmetry of the original.

"And we can use that to our advantage because when you implant an idea
into a mind that would not normally accept it, it will weaken wherever
there's a stress point," the specialist said.  "Soren returned to her
former occupation as a pilot, which was how she met Commander Riker in
the first place, was it not?"

They nodded and he went on.  "Naturally there would be associated
memories.  The point where they began to have meaning again, to
trigger emotion rather than indifference, is the point where the
programming slipped, like the first nail popping out of the
floorboards.  Soren had the good sense to pry at it until it came
loose.  That's where we'll start our work.  It's a good thing she came
for help right away."

Deanna turned the tape off.

"She wanted to be herself again."  Will sounded subdued.  "We were
very lucky, weren't we?"

"She didn't just come to get help, Will.  She could have gone anywhere
for that.  She came to find *you*.  Let that give you some perspective
when things start to feel overwhelming."

---

Phillipa called Jean-Luc as soon as she got his first letter.  "Let me
have this one," she demanded.  "I'll owe you forever, just let me do
it.  I want to be on the team, at least," she said when she saw his
face draw over.

"Face it Jean-Luc," she pushed him hard.  "You need a weasel like me.
You're going to ride in on your white steed, prattling about truth,
justice, and the rights of the individual, and they're going to stomp
you to pieces.  I know this because when you tried that during the
Stargazer hearings *I* stomped you myself once or twice and this is
too important for me to let that happen here.  Now are you going to
let me in, or am I going to have to start plotting revenge?"

"Phillipa, I..." Picard rubbed his head like he always did when he was
hedging.

Phillipa didn't recognize the gesture.  She didn't know she'd almost
won, so she pushed harder.  "Don't think I won't, Jean-Luc.  You may
need me one day, so it's worth your while to give me what I want."

"You are the most hardhearted, graceless woman I've ever had the
misfortune to know," he growled.

She smiled.  There was no way to misread his capitulation when he
signalled it by calling names.  "I miss you too, lover.  See you in a
few days."

It actually took less time than that.  A day later Jean-Luc received a
copy of the orders detailing Phillipa to the Enterprise, and Phillipa
herself followed within hours.  Typically, she got straight to work,
barging in on him like he had nothing better to do but wait at her
beck and call.

"What I plan to do is draw parallels between J'naii mind control and
similar forms of oppression.  I'm going to use female genital
mutilation as my example.  It was an Earth custom, and half the judges
are human, so that should really horrify them."

"'Female genital mutilation'?" Picard repeated.  "What's that?"

Phillipa gave him an expression of sharp outrage.  With short, angry
movements she called an image onto Picard's screen.

It took Jean-Luc a moment to recognize what he was looking at, then he
screamed.  To his credit it was a very tiny scream, no more than a
horrified 'eep' which he suppressed almost at once.

"Good Lord!" He exclaimed.  "That's impossible!  We did that sort of
thing on earth?"

"Read it and weep, Jean-Luc."  Phillipa was more than usually
heartless, calling up more pictures to sicken him even further.

Jean-Luc reined in his horror enough to stay quiet this time.  He
couldn't control his autonomic functions very well, so he merely
waited out the nausea and clamminess of skin, breathing through it
until he was no longer quite so shaky.

He read the brief summaries, then stared from the pictures to
Phillipa, then back again.

'If we'd been born few centuries earlier,' he thought, 'such a thing
might have been done to her.'  With sudden insight, he realized that
she'd probably thought the same thing when she'd first seen evidence
of such human-on-human brutality.  What had she said?  Read it and
weep?

"You cried, didn't you?" He asked with gentle sympathy.  "When you
first saw these?"

"*You* screamed."  Phillipa countered.  She was not going to let him
extend her any comfort--that wasn't her style.  She would, however,
sit across from him and pretend to a self-control she didn't feel
until she could go away and pull her mask on more securely.

Picard sat back in his chair, puffing his cheeks out like he did when
he was temporarily at a loss.  There was no use giving vent to his
outrage unless he could use it to bring an effective solution to bear.

"Phillipa, it's brilliant.  No doubt the judges will react much as I
did."  He tried not to lunge as he reached out and cleared the
pictures from his screen.  "They'll see that at their essence
psychotectic treatments are the same baseless attempt at repression
and control and they won't be able to sanction it."

"My gamble exactly, Jean-Luc.  Every culture has done things that it's
now ashamed of.  If I cast J'naii as a society just learning what it
is to have a social conscience, the judges won't have any choice but
to act in terms of prevailing Federation policy..."

---

"Denying them access to Soren for the greater good of the J'naii
culture."  He mused on this approach.  "It's a bit subtle, but it
should work."

"It will work.  Did you forget how good I am?"

He gave her an expression of mock surprise.  "Never that, oh weasel
mine."

"Good.  Now I'll need an office, a yeoman and a bed, preferably all in
close proximity to each other.  I've already lined up six potential
witnesses and when they get here they'll all need places to stay.
Also..."

He let her demands slide right past him.  "Get out of my office now,
Phillipa."  He could be rude to her because she was always too rude
herself to object to such behavior.  "Go bother Will."

The image of women's scarred and mutilated genitals stayed with him
all day.  Absurdly, he wanted to go find Phillipa and apologise to
her, or kneel down in front of her and show her that he personally
loved whole, undamaged vaginas and would demonstrate that love in no
uncertain terms given the opportunity.

He wished he could tell Soren he understood the magnitude of how she'd
been violated, but he didn't think he could say so without showing
pity, which he suspected she would despise.  He wondered if she was
happy in her new life.  He certainly hoped so.

---

The subject of Jean-Luc's speculation was having an amused
disagreement with her husband about her cooking.  One of the few
things Will had known about Soren's culture was that J'naii ate a lot
of soup.  The few times she and Will had dined together, that's what
he'd served.  Unfortunately, it had given her an incorrect impression
of how Humans ate.  Preparing lunch in typical J'naii style, she'd cut
all their food into small pieces, put the pieces into bowls, poured
broth over them and brought them to the table.

They'd stared at the unappetizing mixture in silence, then Will
suggested that there probably were better ways to serve a tuna salad
sandwich.

Soren couldn't help but smile.  Compared to being deprogrammed,
playing with cuisine should have been easy.  She scrutinized Will's
expression.

"I suspect you are not going to eat this."

"Ah, no.  Not even to make you happy."

"On J'naii we eat a lot of soup.  It's just the way we do things.  I
thought Humans liked soup too."

"Actually, I was going to talk to you about that."  Will looked a
little uncomfortable.  "By your standards we hardly ever eat soup."

"I see."  She thought she was beginning to understand his small but
growing discomfort at meal times.  They'd agreed that they should
learn each others' customs, so she'd eaten his dry food every other
day.  When it was her turn, she fed him from the few J'naii recipes
that had been programmed into the replicator system from the last time
she'd been here.  This morning she'd tried to combine their cooking
styles with moderate success.

"Scrambled egg soup?"  He had not objected to eating it, but he hadn't
finished it either.

She'd thought she might have better success with the sandwiches that
were the default menu selection for the day's noon meal, but she'd had
no idea that bread absorbed liquid so quickly.  She poked at her
soggy, unappetizing lunch.  "I thought I was improving it."

Will started to laugh.  "I was wondering how to tell you how awful
this looks, but I'm just going to come out and say it.  This is really
pretty bad, Soren.  Let's find something else."

She tried to apologize for ruining his food, but he simply laughed
again, lifting her in a sudden burst of exuberance and turning her in
a circle.  "You're worth it, Soren.  I'd gladly learn to eat tuna soup
if that were the price for being with you."

When he set her down, she studied him curiously.  Picking her up and
turning her around seemed like a lighthearted gesture of the moment,
but what if it was a Human custom?  What if he expected reciprocation?
"I do not believe I could do that to you," she observed.

Will smiled again.  "Most Human wives can't lift their husbands,
especially not where there's such a difference in height and
strength."

This caught her attention.  She was ravenously eager to learn about
the differences between them as male and female.  A great deal of the
time she forgot and still referred to herself as 'It.'  When she
remembered to call herself 'she,' however, the word was accompanied by
a small burst of joy that was slowly undermining her decades-old
furtiveness and shame.

Soren was truly grateful that it was so natural for Will to think of
her as a female being.  In some fundamental way his maleness
complemented and completed what she was, and gave her a firm hold on
her new self-definition.  She wanted to stretch into this new identity
as fully as possible and she often watched other females for cues to
feminine behavior.  Klingon females swaggered.  Human females preened.
Vulcans of both genders were inward and secretive.  Deltans females
wore their sexuality like bright red banners.  All four genders of
Trurc were aggressive and highly intelligent.  The one Betazoid female
she knew was nosy and overly friendly.  The single Andorian female was
rigidly formal though quite kind.  It was hard to decide which, if
any, she should emulate.

She asked Will for his opinion though she was not at all surprised by
his unhelpful answer.

He put his dish back in the replicator, thinking seriously. "You, just
like you are, are perfect.  You're the perfect Soren."

"Describe," she challenged gently.

"Everything?"

"Everything you can."

Will took her dish from her, then pulled her close and ran his hand
down her back.  "You're intelligent, thoughtful, brave and forthright,
a great pilot," his hand slowed as his voice became reflective and
distracted.

"But are they female attributes specifically?"

"I don't know."  She could tell by the look on It's... on *his* face
that his mind wasn't really on the subject.  Neither was hers,
actually.  She pulled him down for a kiss, and they put questions--and
lunch--away for later.

---

"Have you and Commander Riker decided how you will approach Krite's
request to visit?"

Soren smiled.  Captain Picard hovered over her a great deal, though he
pretended not to.  He'd invited her to lunch in ten- forward and
they'd had a lively conversation about interspecies communication.  He
seemed fascinated by her questions, and intrigued by all the ways his
culture was perceived and misperceived.  Now replete, and almost ready
to return to duty, he was indulging his curiosity on a more serious
topic.

"Please tell Krite we will see It when It arrives," Soren asserted
with equanimity, ignoring Picard's slightly raised eyebrow.  He was
obviously thinking of the day he'd informed them of Krite's request to
speak to her face-to-face.  Will had flatly said no, but Soren
overruled him.  She would invite It into the home she and Will shared,
and show It Human and J'naii hospitality.

"I know It will spend the time telling me how shamefully perverse and
disgusting I am, but I want It to see me living happily among people
who accept me as I am.  I will be safe," she reassured him.  "It has a
stake in not harming me."

Will was still skeptical.  "It's very sneaky.  It spirited you off the
Enterprise and into that hearing complex before I knew it."

Soren smiled.  "That's a trait all J'naii are proud of-- outwitting an
enemy; scheming; setting traps.  It was only doing what any J'naii
would have done."

"That's good to know," Will murmured, teasing.

Soren misread him.  "I'm not like that.  The opposite, in fact.  It
caught me because I'm too straightforward to see a trap when it's in
front of me."

"Well, I'll leave you two to decide how you should approach this,"
Picard had interrupted hastily.  Their discussion might have
Federation-wide repercussions, but it made him extremely uncomfortable
when they got sidetracked, which they occasionally did.

Soren was glad to be able to tell him that they'd agreed to see It.
Picard seemed pleased by the decision, praising it as good strategy
because showing their willingness to communicate gave them the moral
high ground.

Will, on the other hand, fretted about having to meet with It.  As
late as the night before It's arrival he was still expressing
reservations.

"Are you sure It wouldn't try to use some sort of mind-control device
on you?"

Soren doubted it.  "That would be too obvious," she told him.

Will still took precautions.  He asked Troi to meet Krite in the
transporter room and read It for any signs of an intent to use
deception.  The morning of It's arrival, Data came to their quarters
and he and Will wasted time rigging up scanners that would detect and
disrupt any signals It might transmit to try to control Soren's mind.

After Data left, Soren told him he was being overly cautious.

"Just promise me one thing, Soren."  He took her in his arms.  "No
heroics this time, please.  I think the main reason I'm scared is
because I know you're not."

"Is this my brave pilot speaking?" She teased him gently.

"No, this is your husband who just got married to you and doesn't want
to lose you."

She nodded, reminded that she was no longer first in her own
considerations.  "I forget that now my primary obligation is to our
relationship."

Will looked a bit stung.  "I don't want to be an obligation, Soren."

"But I want you to be.  My obligation and my inspiration."

He turned back to check his work again, grinning.

When Krite arrived, however, he completely lost his good humor.  Soren
was treated to a display of aggression signals that took her a while
to sort out.  Did he do these things because he was Human or because
he was male, or simply because he was Will?  She didn't know, but it
was fascinating to watch.

As soon as Krite had been seated and served, Will deliberately
positioned himself next to Soren and put his arm around her shoulder
as if she were hurt and needed support.

Soren started to pull away but Will's arm and fingers tightened,
holding her in place.

Krite saw the gesture and misunderstood it at least as completely as
Soren did.  "It controls you," Krite accused.  "So I suspected all
along."  It turned to Riker.  "What did you do to It?"

"What I do in my house with my wife is my business."  Will's voice was
deeper than usual, more resonant.  It was also louder, and the
syllables were clipped.

"I know you did something to hurt It.  I will see you removed from
Starfleet for this," Krite threatened.

In spite of her determination to remain calm, Soren now showed Will an
example of J'naii aggression.  She was on her feet before she even
knew it, standing in front of him protectively.

"Any attempts to damage him will be met with force," she said, hearing
the tremor of anger in her voice but unable to control it.  "If he is
hurt I will find your family's husk sets and strafe them.  I have
enough friends to make that possible.  And the outsiders' sentiment is
against you."

"What would you know of the outsiders' sentiment?" Krite demanded.  It
was highly agitated by now, It's voice thin and tight.  "You are a
*J'naii*.  Come home with us and let us help you.  Please Soren, don't
you see how this behavior is hurting us all?"

"You are the one who hurt people.  Spying on me.  Reporting me.
Helping the security force bring me in, and for no reason except he
has a gender.  *We* have genders," she corrected herself defiantly.

"It's not like us," Krite sighed as if It had been over this a
thousand times.  "It's *different*.  It corrupted you from some
demented agenda of It's own devising.  I warn you, Soren, I won't let
It get away with this.  Even they have laws against such coercion."

"Krite," Soren offered pragmatically,  "You know that's not true.
Think about it.  How could he have forced me to come here when he
didn't even know where I was.  I *chose* to come here."

"You're sick and It took advantage!"

"You just want to prove that you're right and I'm wrong."

"And you just want to justify your perversion."

Now it was Riker's turn to stand.  "Krite, no one who calls my wife a
pervert is welcome in my house.  I warn you.  You will not say such
things."

"Besides," Soren tried to restore a civil tone, "You're not being
logical.  Either I'm a pervert or Will has corrupted me.  By your
argument both cannot be true."

"You are clouding the issue."

"You are not seeing the truth."

"This is pointless."  Will took another protective step towards her.
"Soren is not going back with you, now or ever."

"I see,"  Krite looked almost constipated with anger.  It stood and
pointed It's finger, passing sentence.  "Soren, I take no pleasure in
this but you leave me no choice.  You are going to be banned from ever
returning to J'naii unless you agree to receive more treatment.  I
hoped it would not come to this, but you will not see reason and you
force the ministers to impose this sanction for the good of our
planet.  They will not permit your perversion to corrupt others."

With that Krite stalked out.

Soren and Will looked at each other.

"Singularly unsuccessful," Soren opined with a small smile.

Will looked a little sheepish.  "I'm sorry I lost my temper."

"Me too."

Seeking reassurance, they held one another tightly for long moments.
Soren laid her head on his chest and listened to his heartbeat.  "I
wish this wasn't happening," she murmured.

"I don't care, as long as I'm with you and you love me."

"I do love you, Will Riker."

"That's the second time you've actually said it," he whispered against
her hair.  His voice was thick with emotion, whether from the fight or
her declaration she couldn't say.

She lifted up her head to stare at him.  "You like that?  Then I will
say it every day.  I love you, Will."

"I love you, Soren."

---

A few days later they got the subpoena.  On behalf of Soren and
Soren's kinline, the J'naii government appealed to the Federation
Council Legal Committee with a request that Soren be remanded into
J'naii custody on the grounds of mental instability.

The J'naii legal representatives wasted no time.  Enterprise personnel
had to stand aside as they brandished the court order that allowed
them access to all the Enterprise's non-secured files, logs and
records.  The new head of security sounded disappointed as she
reported back to the captain that the J'naii comported themselves
circumspectly, staying well away from all prohibited areas.

Jean-Luc and Phillipa were excited.  This was the beginning of the
battle for which they'd been preparing.  Jean-Luc gave himself a stern
lecture to the effect that at the heart of this matter was a newlywed
couple for whom he felt a great deal of affection.

'They're going to need your support more than your tactical skills,'
he told himself firmly.  'Don't forget that.'

Phillipa couldn't have cared less about supporting them.  This case
was going to be good for her reputation, and with typical callousness
she waxed enthusiastic about her plans for it.

"Even though we're defending your sanity and your right to stay in the
Federation, Soren, our strategy will be to put J'naii custom on trial
and rip it to shreds."  She smiled wolfishly.  "Now that I'm more
familiar with J'naii law, I'm confident this approach has a good
chance of working."

Picard took note of Soren's stricken expression.  "Lawyers are not
known for their sensitivity," he tried to soothe her, shooting as
exasperated look in Phillipa's direction.  "What she means is that
we're going to expose the illogic of their position."

"That's very diplomatic of you, Captain, but I have no doubt this will
cast my world in a very bad light."

"Growth is sometimes painful, Soren," Picard reminded her.
"Ultimately this will open your society and free other gendered people
on J'naii to come out of hiding."

"I know."  She still did not seem happy about it, and Will put a
comforting hand on her shoulder.

Picard looked away, giving them their privacy.  Sometimes Phillipa
complained to him that they were sappy but Picard was secretly pleased
when he saw Riker's expression go soft every time Soren walked into
the room.  He did not begrudge them their intimacy--they would need it
before this was over.  He almost felt as if he were deceiving them
because he was fully aware of how painful this ordeal would become,
while they had no idea what they were in for.

"Soren," he truly disliked doing this, but he pressed her anyway, "now
would be a good time to make that tape I mentioned earlier."

Picard was not a diplomat for nothing.  He'd already sent a press
release to the groups who'd shown so much support for Will when the
issue first gained prominence.  Shrewdly, he only told them that Soren
had not yet made a statement in regard to the upcoming hearing to
fight the extradition request from the J'naii government.  He would,
he assured them, update them on the situation as soon as he had more
news.  Releasing the tape would be the next gambit in their overall
strategy.

---

"Let them know who you are and why you are doing this," he told her,
and even though she felt a little embarrassed, she dutifully complied
with his request.  She made a recording, talking about her family, her
job as a pilot, the beauty of her home in the Western hills, the time
she met Commander Riker, the psychotectic treatments, her escape and
recuperation.  She did not call for any action to be taken on her
behalf, nor did she lay blame.  She simply expressed her pleasure in
having found the person she wished to be with, as well as her relief
that her brainwashing had failed so that she and Will could be
together again.

Picard and Phillipa gloated, thrilled with the results.  Soren came
across exactly as they wished--a real person rather than some exotic
anomaly whose plight would only arouse prurient speculation.  Anyone
could empathize with her story; a life, a job, a lover, then cruel
repression from which she wished to escape.  He sent copies to
everyone he could think of, then sat back and waited.

At first it appeared to have very little effect.  But then it won the
prize for best offworld documentary that year on Orayaaj.  The
Alliance for People's Rights called for a boycott of J'naii
products--useless since J'naii did not have much of an export market,
but it was publicity, so it counted.  A steady trickle of off-world
tourists began to show up in the Western provinces that Soren had
described in such loving detail.  Some of the hotels in that region
began to stock coffee and rac d'jino.  Furious debates sprang up on
J'naii newsnets as to whether the tourists should be welcomed or
discouraged.  The hotel owners talked of forming a guild.  They liked
the tourists.

"And this is a benefit?"  Soren asked Picard.  He was sitting over
coffee at their dinner table because she'd invited him to eat with
them again.

Picard was in a good mood.  For reasons unknown even to himself, he
thought it important that she have a good impression of him, so he was
breaking his overly-strict non-fraternization policy to join them.
Soren was a good dinner conversationalist--incisive and intelligent,
and he enjoyed talking to her.

"Actually yes, this is of great benefit," he answered. "Once your
government is aware that it's now open to scrutiny, it will want to be
on it's best behavior.  It won't be able to help comparing itself to
other systems of government on other planets, and neither will its
subjects.  I'd be surprised if the hotel owners were the only
merchant's guild to put pressure on them.  The more your society is
exposed to other cultures the more open it will become, and the better
for all J'naii, especially those who have been brutalized by the
current policies.  Oppression thrives in secrecy."

Soren chewed on that.  "I never thought of myself as oppressed
before."  Her tone held a curious mix of wonder and resentment.

"You and your people are being given the opportunity to think about
yourselves in a new light.  It is not an easy process, but then acts
of heroism rarely are."

I am underimpressed with myself in the role of a hero," she murmured.

"Most heroes say that." Picard rejoined.  He smiled at Soren and after
a moment she smiled back.

Will, putting dishes back in the replicator, listened quietly as Soren
and the captain conversed.  When he wasn't dealing directly with
Soren's upcoming trial, he tended to forget it among the thousand
other tasks that held his attention.  Listening to his wife and his
Captain, he became aware that they were talking about nothing less
than engineering a social revolution.  It was fascinating in an
objective way, but his thoughts ran along more personal lines.
Captain Picard and Soren talked about strategy and principles and the
good of the many, but he wondered how this would affect his newly
acquired home life, and what they would do if, by some chance, he and
Soren lost.

Later, after they bade the Captain goodnight, they were both quiet and
reflective.  Finally, when the silence persisted even into bed, Soren
turned to him and traced a finger down his bicep.

"I am willing to find some other option if you don't want this."

"I don't want this, and there is no other option."

Will turned to look at her in the semi-darkness.  Her gown had fallen
off her shoulder, and the sight of her bare flesh enticed him.  He
knew they should talk, but he didn't want to, not when they could be
so easily distracted.

Soren watched his eyes trace the outline of her garment and heard her
own breathing become heavier.  It gave her an erotic charge to wear
clothes that were specifically made for females.  By human standards,
her nightdress was ridiculously modest, but she felt wickedly
scandalous in it.  Will's reaction only added to her feeling of
luxuriant sensuality.  She would have worn it for no other reason than
to watch his expression grow distracted as he untied the drawstring
and pulled it down her body.

Tonight she'd felt a bit guilty as she pulled it on.  They probably
should have had a sober discussion about Federation politics, but she
preferred to watch his grin go all unfocussed as he reached out to
her.  It was so much easier to pretend they were just like any other
pair, settling into bed for the night, reaching for one another and
losing themselves in love.  She took his hand and he closed his eyes
and let her slide his fingers down to his penis.  She liked to wrap
his hand around his swelling erection and caress penis and fingers
together.  She liked the way his breathing got heavier, and she liked
the drops of moisture that dotted his skin.  When he started to thrust
against her, she pulled his hand out of his pants and placed it next
to the ribbon at her neck.  She could smell his scent on his fingers
and that aroused her further.  She would have replicated the smell of
him and worn it as a cologne, but even though that was considered
highly complimentary on some parts of J'naii, Humans had a strong
privacy taboo against it.

Will fumbled at the drawstring, pulled it open.  "Oh, Soren," he
moaned.

"Will," she reached up and drew him down for a kiss.  When she came up
for air, she said, "I hope we never stop doing this."

"As long as we're alive," he murmured in a husky voice.

---

The following morning Picard pretended not to notice Will's swollen
lips and slight fatigue.  He was glad for the couple's obvious passion
because if he could see it, others would too, and it might be useful
in his campaign to bring this issue to Federation-wide attention.

In an odd reversal of roles, he was now the one who fretted whenever
Will went on away missions.  Picard had experienced his share of noble
causes, and he was keenly aware that Soren was now both a mascot and a
commodity.  She had to be kept happy until this trial played out, and
that meant keeping her husband safe.  To that end, Will was absolutely
not allowed to die until after the trial.  Hedging his bets as much as
he could, he strongly suggested that Will update his last will and
testament, stipulating that as his wife, Soren would be the inheritor
of his possessions.

With the tables turned, Riker began to understand why Picard felt so
exasperated at his overprotectivness.  In this brief time before the
trial, he wanted their lives to be as normal as possible.  Picard's
careful nurturing was bad enough, but there was also Phillipa's
abrasive enthusiasm and the sympathy (and curiosity) of all his many
friends to contend with.  It got so that whenever anyone mentioned the
trial he felt himself grow tense and resentful.

Worst of all, his father showed up, self-important and externally
benign, with the stated intention of helping his son through this
difficult ordeal.  The fragile truce between them hadn't lasted very
long, and Will was displeased by Kyle Riker's presence, though he
declined Picard's offered interference.  This time he wanted to joust
with his father and win on his own terms.  More confident than before,
he made the first move, bringing Soren to meet his father the very
moment he arrived on board.

As he expected, his father pulled the same trick he'd tried the first
time, criticizing Will's decisions as soon as the introductions were
finished.

"Son, I think you're going to need my help because you obviously
didn't think this through," Kyle Riker started.  "What in the world
made you want to jeopardize her health and well-being like that?"

"Dad," Will's voice was patient and just a touch condescending, "you
tried interfering in my life once before and it didn't work.  Why do
it again?"

Then a more vindictive comment occurred to him and he said it right
away.  "Captain Picard never said a word except to encourage us.  Why
can't you be more like him?"

"Will," Soren protested gently.  "You will hurt your father's
feelings."

Perfect.  "No I won't.  We're really not all that close." He got to
his feet and reached out a hand to Soren.  "Come on.  Let's let him
have some time to settle in."

Will could barely keep himself from doing a victory dance, but Kyle
Riker recognized his son's words for the attack they were, and his
competitive side came charging to the fore.  He tried another
approach, asking Soren to meet with him for drinks.  When he tried to
confess to her and seek solace, however, she was utterly oblivious to
her supposed task of comforter, giving him objective responses he
didn't want to hear.

"I suppose Will told you I abandoned him," he started.

"Isn't that what it was?"

"He doesn't understand that I had a life."  He tried to bluster his
way past her question.

Soren considered.  "You appear to be justifying your past actions.  Is
it that you think J'naii approve of abandoning children?"

"Well," his smile was bluff and slightly menacing, "I can see Will's
convinced you that I'm the villain of this set-piece.  Maybe we should
just drop this conversation."

She couldn't.  Not when she really didn't understand what he wanted.
"Is it that you are offering support for our marriage in exchange for
my endorsement of your behavior towards your child?"

By this time he was on his feet.  Soren watched him leave, muttering
that he didn't need this, then she sat thinking about their
conversation for a long time.  Eventually she decided to take Will's
father's advice and forget it happened.  Years later she told Will
because she thought it would make him laugh, which it did.  For the
present, however, her husband seemed satisfied with his one triumph.
They avoided Riker senior who made an excuse and left when he couldn't
find a way to make himself the hero of the story.  Will snickered to
himself for a long time, feeling very smug.

But when Soren's parents came to visit, nobody found cause to laugh at
anything.  It was such a wrenching experience that all of them were
nervous and shaken when it was over.  Appealing to their feelings for
Soren, Phillipa said, might get them to drop their part of the suit.
Soren had been dubious, and Riker knew it wouldn't work when the last
genors of her kinline showed up on the Enterprise looking stunned and
revolted by the gendered beings around them.

'Puritanical, provincial and afraid,' he judged, and over the next few
hours he was proved right.

Captain Picard was at his most eloquent, but he made no progress
against her parents' disgust towards the coarsely-sexed beings in
front of them.  Although they had agreed to hold a dialogue towards
finding an equitable resolution, their views were too firmly
entrenched for him to make any headway.  After a very short while it
became obvious that they were really only looking for an opportunity
to beg Soren to go home and get treatment.  They tried to bribe her
with promises of prestigious piloting jobs.  They bombarded her with
spurious 'facts' about the lives of gendered beings that might have
been hysterically funny if they hadn't been delivered with such
conviction.  When Picard calmly countered their assertions with the
fact of his own normalcy, they resorted to threats.  Their last
desperate act was to show Soren a tape of her younger siblings, crying
and begging her to come home and get fixed.

Picard hastily adjourned the meeting and had Will remove his visibly
distraught wife.  He barely restrained himself from lambasting them
for such a cheap trick, and as he thanked them for their time, his
tone of voice was just this side of civil.

"Well, the bright side is that we know what, specifically, the J'naii
don't like about us."  Picard, Phillipa, Will and Soren were in
Phillipa's office, consoling one another after the fiasco.

To her credit, Phillipa was trying hard to remember about the
sensitivity thing.  She knew better than to tell Soren what she really
thought, which was that her parents were narrow-minded bigots who she
was better off leaving behind.  What kind of people would actually
worry aloud that gendered people might give her incurable diseases?
She tried to take her cues from Jean-Luc who was much better at these
things, but she was more than a bit nervous.  If Soren backed down
now, a lot of good legal research would go to waste.

Jean-Luc outdid himself.  He was gentle, persuasive and empathic, but
he never even acknowledged the possibility that Soren might give up.
He very bluntly told Soren that if she wanted to remain true to her
convictions she had to face the fact that she could never go back to
her family.

"You did not know it would cost so much, did you?"  The words were
harsh, but his voice was kind.

"I do understand," he continued when she did not answer.  "That's why
I've been hovering over you, and probably making a pest of myself," he
acknowledged with a rueful smile.  "I want you to have as much support
as an outsider can possibly give you because I knew the extent to
which this would isolate you from your own people."

Soren was huddled against Will's side, wearing an expression of
absolute shock.  She gazed at Picard from the protective circle of
Will's arm, enjoying the feel of his strength against her.  "You knew
this would happen?"

Picard heard the accusation in her voice.  "I didn't know what I could
say that would adequately warn you."

She considered this for a long time.  "My parents love me, you know."

"That makes it all the worse, doesn't it?"  His answer was
sympathetic, hiding his relief that she was trying to justify their
behavior.  That meant they hadn't shaken her resolve.

"The trial is going to be horrible."  Soren stated flatly, looking to
him to affirm what she already knew.

Picard watched Will's dawning comprehension and felt like he'd
betrayed a friend.  Rightly or wrongly, he'd tried to shield Will from
the realities of the events in which they were participating, but now
there would be no more hiding the truth.  Here on the ship they
lived in a protective bubble of heterosexism, but on Soren's homeworld
there was strong disapproval for what she was and what she was doing.
More to the point, they might lose.  It seemed inconceivable, but it
might happen, and if Soren were turned over to the J'naii authorities,
there was no question but that they would destroy her before they
allowed her natural desires to surface again.

Will looked heartsick; he was clearly trying to hide it, but Picard
could see it in his face.  It was obvious that he would rather
die--that he *would* die--before he let them take his wife away.

Riker saw that he was being stared at and tried to pull himself
together.  "You are very kind to stand by us, Captain.  My wife and
I... appreciate all your efforts on our behalf."

He helped Soren to her feet and they left.  Phillipa and  Jean-Luc
stared at each other silently.  There was really nothing they could
say.

---

The strangest part of all was that there were such wonderful moments
intermingled with the dread.  Will would make a miserable joke to the
effect that in fifty-three days he'd find out whether he got to keep
his marriage, and Soren would smile as sincerely as she could, feeling
sick with the force of her apprehension.  Half an hour later, though,
they would be racing shuttles in the simulation program, screaming
with delight and egging each other on, and she couldn't imagine that
anything would ever come between their happiness.

Soren qualified to become a flight instructor, and she soon acquired a
small cadre of adoring pupils.  When they weren't training, they hung
out in one of the smaller lounges, bragging and swaggering--at least,
as much as Soren swaggered, which wasn't a lot.  Will swaggered
plenty, obviously relieved to have some part of his life under
control.  He swapped tall tales with Soren and her students, using his
own formidable piloting skills to horn in on the respect her students
held for her.  Occasionally Picard also succumbed to the urge to play.
He called it 'coaching Soren's pupils,' but the truth was, he was
delighted to have an excuse to demonstrate his abilities.  He was
aware that he, Will and Soren made an imposing clique, but this was
one area where he would permit himself to be lionized because of his
reputation.  Pilots of their level of skill were rare, and they all
knew it.

Soren watched them show off but said nothing.  It was cute in Picard,
but Will's braggadocio irritated her slightly because it was a side of
him she hadn't seen before.  She worried that it  might bother her
enough to make her not want to be around him very much.  This was the
strongest relationship she'd ever had, but now that she had time to
think about it she didn't know how she would fare as a marriage
partner.  J'naii were solitary by nature, and it frightened her to
think that, having taken her fill of his masculinity, she might lose
interest in him.  He would feel terrible, and she would rather die
than hurt him again.

To her frustration, she didn't know how to talk to him about this.  He
was already doing so much for her that she didn't dare bring up
another problem for him to help her resolve.  Nonetheless, she
couldn't help but wonder if she would be trapped by her gratitude
towards him rather than willingly bound by her love.

Much to her shame, she chose the coward's way out; misdirecting him
rather than dealing honestly.  J'naii had trouble letting down
barriers, but they could generate sexual excitement at will.  Soren
threw herself at him in bed each night, angry with herself that she
paid his gift of intimacy with emotional withdrawal, but unable to
help it.  Sustained emotional connections did not have much outlet in
her culture, and she felt pressured by his expectations of her, and by
her expectations of herself.  J'naii poetry was full of descriptions
of the yearning for closeness and the frustration of not being able to
find it or keep it.  Long-term friendships were indicators of trust,
as were eating together, sleeping together, having babies together,
and working together.  J'naii had pairbonding, but no concept of
marriage as Humans knew it.  The idea that all these things could be
shared in a state called matrimony was nothing less than magnificently
overwhelming.  This relationship offered her such an embarrassment of
riches that she wasn't sure she could sustain her end of the
agreement.

---

As weeks passed, however, she was relieved to see that their intimacy
grew in spite of her misgivings.  She began to relish the myriad small
ways they established their identity as a couple.  They danced
together perfectly.  They got a reputation for keeping their home, as
Deanna delicately put it, like a sty.  Neither cared.  They were
becoming known for a mild eccentricity in their cuisine choices, soup
being a consistent favorite any time of the day or night.  They hogged
the flight simulators.  Before she knew it she began to think of
herself as the Soren half of Soren-and- Will.  It was peculiar and
unnerving, but the more she got used to it, the more she liked it.
She wished she had another J'naii to explain this to because this
melting of boundaries was not something they were familiar with and
they would have marveled at it's novelty, as she did.

She had another triumph in her easy decision to use the women's
changing room the very first time they went to work out.  She'd simply
followed the other females, and it wasn't until she was half naked,
pulling on her exercise costume, that she realized what she'd done.
Soren finished dressing in a daze, amazed and thrilled by the fact
that she'd so naturally defaulted to the presumption that she belonged
in the women's locker room.

"I wondered if someone might challenge me," she told Will that night,
"but no one did."

"Of course not," he smiled delightedly, lifting her off her feet again
to carry her into the bedroom, lay her on the bed and fall down next
to her.  "You're adjusting to the fact that you're really free to be a
female, aren't you?"

Soren snuggled against him happily.  "I'm forgetting less."

"A lot less," he agreed.  He completely empathized with her occasional
confusion--the times she forgot and called herself 'It.'  The times
she forgot and called him 'It.'  The times she practiced
gender-specific behaviors and felt like a fool because she didn't do
them very well.  He laughed at her efforts sometimes, and helped her
laugh at herself.

Right now, however, neither was in the mood for laughing.  Of all the
benefits to participating in this Human social construct called
marriage, one of the best was her access to his spear-shaped sexual
organ.  She was delighted by the shape of it and the fact that it was
actually designed for penetration.  In her wildest delirium she'd
never imagined she could have his marvelous strength and pressure
inside her night after night.  It was not very thick, but it was the
perfect length for pressing deep into her distended genital pouch, and
the pleasure of it was indescribable; so gratifying it left her limp
with satisfaction.  Now she reached for him again, rubbing almost
experimentally, as if she couldn't quite believe his penis would
really rise every time she touched it.

"Like magic," she murmured.  The process fascinated her.

"Just don't stop," Will panted.

They were exploring different ways of pleasing one another.  J'naii
genital pouches had evolved with a dense crisscrossing of muscle
beneath the surface, giving them the ability to create the suction
most of her people found rapturous.  In time, her muscles adjusted to
the unusual pressure of a human penis, allowing her to grip him and
ripple back against his movements.  Will was badly startled the first
time he felt the massaging clutch of her pouch around him, but after
he understood what she was doing he started to ask for 'that thing you
do when I'm inside you.'  In fact, he asked for it quite a bit, and it
thrilled her to be able to give it to him.

Of course, there were other adjustments that simply had to work
themselves out over time.  J'naii mated standing though Will preferred
to lie down.  He was messy, extruding genetic material in a liquid
suspension each time he climaxed, unlike J'naii who could do one, the
other, or both as they chose.  Soren's genital pouch was often sore
because it wasn't designed to take the pressure of his thrusting.  At
one point they had to go to Beverly for advice when the lining became
inflamed from the type of friction to which it was now subject.  The
doctor was embarrassed by her inability to immediately help them.  She
could heal the irritation but she had focused on a different part of
J'naii physiology and could only prescribe the most generic of
lubricants.  Determined to correct this oversight, she took samples
and ran more tests, and a week later she proudly presented them with a
cream she'd designed specifically for the two of them.

"It should be perfect for you," she bragged.  She'd called them to
tell them the specifications had been uploaded into their replicator
files.  Before she closed the connection she leaned forward
conspiratorially.  "And if I do say so myself," she added, "it doesn't
taste half bad."  She winked at Will mischievously as she closed the
connection.

"Why would she be concerned as to the taste?"  Soren asked him.  She'd
replicated a sample right away and was sniffing at it with an
expression of perplexity and approval.

Will grinned at her.  They were alone and it was mid- afternoon, and
they didn't have to be anywhere until the next morning.  "Actually,
Soren, I was going to talk to you about that."

---

The date of Soren's hearing grew nearer, and anxiety inevitably took
it's toll.  Will had never faced a situation that was so personal and
yet so public, and even though he knew it was irrational, he began to
feel betrayed by the fact that so many of his supporters, even within
Starfleet, had no idea how painful this was.  Phillipa, for example,
exhibited an enthusiasm that was entirely inappropriate for the
gravity of the situation.  He granted her the fact that she was very
good at what she did, but if they lost she would simply move on,
leaving him to deal with the aftermath.

Even Picard treated this like it was a contest to be won rather than a
battle to keep Will's marriage, and it was beginning to grate on his
nerves.  Picard worked very hard on Will's behalf, but he, too, seemed
to have no understanding of the strain Will faced.  The captain was
becoming more exacting and meticulous about how, precisely, they would
implement their legal tactics.  In his subdued excitement he gave Will
and Soren penny lectures on their strategic options, running
simulations based on possible J'naii legal tactics and waxing
enthusiastic about the results.

Will could scarcely pay attention.  He was a better strategist than
Picard any day of the week, and he was far too pragmatic not to lay
private plans of his own.  Someone named Yardbird Parker bought a
shuttle and parked it in orbit around Earth.  By the time anyone
thought to ask why a 20th century jazzman would want a shuttle jammed
with extra energy packs and weapons, he and Soren would be well away.
He made sure Yardbird's trail would not be too arduously difficult to
follow back to him, then he made his real escape plans.  It amazed him
that he was actually considering leaving everything familiar to him
and running away with his wife, and to his surprise he resented it.
In turn, the resentment scared him.  He shouldn't mind throwing away
his career for Soren's sake, should he?  And practically speaking, he
could not help but ask himself if it was even worth waiting for the
hearing.  It was a risk and he was a gambler, but not a stupid one.
He could resign and they could go someplace far out of reach of J'naii
justice, but should he leave career and friends when there was a
chance they might win?

"In less than ten days there's going to be a hearing," he was  in
Deanna's office,  "at the end of which J'naii security teams may  take
my wife into custody and I will never see her again.  And if you ask
me how that makes me feel, Dee, I'll take a phaser to you."

Deanna smiled at his totally unintimidating threat.  She'd finally
cornered him into a session with her because she knew he needed to
talk.  He was carrying a great deal of tension; arms crossed,
uncommunicative and forbidding expression on his face.  She wished
there were some way she could relieve his fear, but the only thing
that would really help would be to win the trial and get on with his
life.  Still, she could help him process what he was feeling.

"Why don't you want me to ask you that?"

"Because I don't feel anything, Deanna!"  It was true.  As the trial
loomed closer Will's emotions became progressively more numb.  He
supposed he was terrified, but he didn't know.  He couldn't feel
himself breath.  He couldn't think.  Half the time he had no idea what
he was saying.  He watched himself going about his duties as the
perfect first officer, and he would think, 'Who is that person?'

And there was no question but that his fear affected their marriage.
Their first few months together they talked to one another nonstop,
but not anymore.  The only thing on their minds was the trial and they
were getting sick of trying to reassure each other.  It was good, he
supposed, that so much of their private time lately was taken up with
preparations.  Phillipa had acquired two gendered J'naii lawyers from
somewhere, and the three of them  drilled Soren and the other
witnesses in the holodeck, making them  rehearse their parts until
they could do them perfectly.

Every time he watched Soren move to the witness box and state her name
for the record, Will grew more apprehensive.  In secret, he returned
to the holodeck and rehearsed the part where he stole her away from
the waiting security guards and fled the planet.  He wanted to enlist
Worf's aid, but he wouldn't call his friend from Deep Space Nine for
the sole purpose of jeopardizing his career.  He began to feel more
and more desperate.  To his utter chagrin, Phillipa had acquired a
troop of J'naii assistants--to make the point, he supposed, that all
J'naii didn't approve of their government's behavior.  They were
around whenever he had to go talk to her, but he didn't trust them.
It would be too easy to slip a saboteur among them who would eavesdrop
on his conversations and report back to their government.  He asked
Soren to stay away from the other J'naii for the time being, and even
though she didn't agree with his reasons, she did as he requested.
Will tried not to be too open in his suspicion, but he felt as if
he were being deliberately mocked by their presence.  He personally
checked the passenger manifest of every outgoing craft before allowing
them clearance.  At the very least, they would not steal his wife out
from under his nose.  Not this time.

His secret plans and preparations made him feel isolated, and his
sense of alienation increased as the trial date got closer.  Even
here, sitting in Deanna's office, he had to watch what he gave away.
He wanted to say goodbye on the off chance that he might soon have to
make an abrupt departure.  He wanted to tell her that he'd left
certain documentation in his computer, but he didn't dare, and the
need for such paranoia oppressed him.

"I can feel how hard this is for you," Deanna sympathized.  "I wish
there were something I could do that would reassure you."

"I know you do.  I want to ask you to take care of Soren in case
anything happens to me, but that's ridiculous.  None of us will be
able to do anything for her if we lose.  I have to face that fact."

"How is she taking this?"

"As badly as I am." Will's smile held no amusement.  Soren, he
discovered, went tharn when she was scared--frozen and quiet.  Will
tried to be extra gentle with her, but it was easier said than done.
His own fears made him brittle and distant when he wanted to be warm
and supportive.  He discovered that he was awfully bad at displaying
comfort when he was too frightened to hear himself think.

"It's hard to know what to do, Dee.  She's so withdrawn."

"How have you tried to reach her?"

"Any way I can," he grimaced ruefully.  Soren was generally  quiet and
softspoken, and it had taken him quite some time to  identify the
different qualities of her silences.  That afternoon  he'd come in to
find her looking so forlorn that he'd immediately  become worried.

"Do you feel like talking?"

She answered politely in the negative.

"Would you like to come for a walk on the holodeck?"

"No, thank you Will, please go without me."

"Ooookay.  Should I go get Deanna?"

"For what?"

"Forget it."  Sometimes it was all he could do not to yell at her that
she wasn't helping with her repressive reticence.  Then he felt even
more ashamed for being impatient, then he got depressed.

"I feel like she's rejecting me," he told Deanna.  "Like I'm not good
enough."

"At this point, you're probably not.  Neither of you has ever faced
anything like this and your coping skills are not up to the task yet.
Give yourselves room to fail, Will.  And yes, I know this advice will
not help with the real problem of whether you will have to turn your
marriage over to J'naii authorities but you can only live one day at a
time.  And you know I'll be here to help if you need me."

"Dee, I..."  Riker suddenly thought better of what he'd started to
say.

Deanna caught his gratitude anyway.  "I know.  You love me."  She
smiled at the irony of it.  "I love you too, Will, now go find your
wife and say that to her."

---

One day at a time.  It helped a little.  Picard tightened security
around them because news reporters were using any pretext to get
aboard the Enterprise and talk to them.  It was impractical to screen
every single person who came aboard, so inevitably some of them found
ways to get to Will and Soren.  One brash old news hound cornered Will
in a turbolift, pointed a recorder at him and asked if he was scared
of losing his wife.  He was summarily confined to quarters.  After
that, the rest of them were careful to go through Picard with requests
for interviews.

For Will, talking about the upcoming trial was like showing off a
deformed limb, and even though Picard and Phillipa both deemed it
necessary, he hated it.  Reporters loved to look for tawdry details,
even where there were none to be found, and their questions ranged
from the bizarre to the inane to the downright offensive.  Most news
guilds had interview guides to help prevent reporters from violating
the social tenets of the people they interviewed, but a wily reporter
quickly learned how far to flout convention.  Humans, for instance,
might get uncomfortable answering questions about sex, but unlike
mentioning an Eiserite's shoes, you wouldn't be summarily killed for
asking, and the blushes, stammers and shifty eye contact could be as
informative as a demonstration.

They were more careful with Soren because J'naii were an unknown
quantity.  Almost every question to her was prefaced with the
convention, "Forgive my ignorance, but is it permitted to ask..."

Soren occasionally said 'no,' for no other reason except she was tired
of talking.

Fortunately Picard usually took over after allowing his trained
parrots to answer a few questions, and he could be so forbidding that
nobody crossed him.  Phillipa could also be particularly intimidating,
and Will quickly learned that it was better to arrange interviews
around their schedules.  A small party of public relations officials
arrived from Headquarters and they grilled Will so mercilessly that he
would have almost rather faced the tabloid press than talk to them
again.  In spite of their intrusiveness they proved to be a great
help, taking over the task of dealing with reporters, handing out fact
sheets, and generally obstructing the newshounds so politely that Will
was impressed in spite of himself.

And one day at a time, the hearing grew nearer until it *the* day
arrived.

---

The morning of the hearing Will woke to the realization that his
marriage was over.  Whether they won or not, his wife was going to
leave him and it was all his fault.  He'd been unconscionably selfish,
and only now did he realize that his insensitivity had destroyed his
marriage more effectively than any J'Naii brainwashers ever could.
Even now, his regrets were centered around himself--his disappointment
that he would not be able to take her to a Christmas party, for
instance.  He'd looked forward to her studious appreciation of Human
custom, but until this moment he'd never faced the fact that marriage
was about more than simply eating together, talking together and
having sex.  When more serious matters intruded they'd both avoided
them as much as possible, and the end result was that there were whole
portions of their relationship where they were strangers to one
another.

'My fault,' he thought.  'Deanna tried to tell me.'

He would have apologized, but it seemed ridiculous to try to break
through the barriers at this late date.  Soren was getting dressed,
pulling on a blouse he particularly liked, despite Phillipa's warning
that she shouldn't belabor the point of her femininity.

'What should I do?' He wondered.  They didn't even talk anymore, not
really.  He wanted to explain that he loved her and wanted her to stay
here and keep being his wife, but he didn't dare say as much.  They
tossed sound bites back and forth over breakfast, filling the silence,
saying nothing.  The shallow phrases hid the fears he couldn't bring
himself to face:  they would take her away.  His escape plan wouldn't
work.  His escape plan *would* work, and they would run away together,
only to be stuck in their frozen silence forever.

"I like your blouse," he said, meaning 'I'm sorry!  I don't know what
to do!'

Her smile was kind and meaningless.  "Thank you.  I should go meet
with Phillipa now."

Soren was not demonstrative.  She did not kiss in greeting or parting,
but she turned in the doorway to stare at him with the same yearning
look on her face as when they'd taken her away for psychotectic
treatments.

Will recognized that she was saying goodbye, and part of him wanted to
scream with grief and protest.  Instead he checked his uniform in the
mirror and went to join Captain Picard.  Phillipa had choreographed
their entry very carefully.  Every admiral she could round up was
already sitting in the courtroom.  They were irrelevant to the
proceedings, but they would impress the judges and possibly intimidate
the J'naii, which was all she wanted.

---

Picard was mercifully silent when Will met him in the transporter
room.  As they walked into the courtroom he stuck so closely to Will's
side that their arms touched.  This too, was per Phillipa's
instructions, but Will was grateful for it.  He had a feeling Picard
might have done so in any regard, and he felt a wild urge to turn to
his captain and profess his deep love and respect on the off chance
that this was the last time they ever saw each other.

'Don't be stupid,' he warned himself harshly, but tears threatened to
well up, and he had to clear his throat several times before he
regained control of himself.  Deanna, Beverly, Geordi, Data, many
other members of the crew, and friends he hadn't seen in years all
crowded the rows behind the admirals.  Their side of the courtroom was
filled with a panoply of beings of all races, genders and colors.
Phillipa had done this deliberately, he knew, creating a silent
reminder of the expansiveness and diversity inherent in the
Federation's existence.

By contrast, the J'naii side had only the monotonous repetition of
height, hair color, and pale skin.  In their incessant sameness they
seemed a breathing advertisement for oppression.

'My God that woman is good,' Will thought.  It was the last rational
thought he had in a long time.  From the moment he sat down, fear took
him hostage, and he watched the events unfold in front of him with
passive horror, helpless to effect the outcome.

Finally the panel of judges walked in, all gravitas and imposing
dignity, and the show began.

The J'Naii went first, stating their case and presenting their
evidence.  They looked formidable, with charts and studies to back up
their claims, and a team of experts in social sciences and psychiatry,
from both the Federation and J'naii.

They were relentless.  They presented their evidence of J'Naii
physical, cultural and behavioral norms with irrefutable scientific
facts.  Soren's insanity, according to their evaluation, was obvious
and painful.  The only compassionate response was to bring It home for
a cure.

Butterfly wings scraped against the inside of Will's stomach.  By the
time they were done, he was halfway convinced that they were right.
He almost grabbed his wife and left right then and there, convinced
that it would be impossible for their side to win.  The only thing
that stopped him was the fact that Picard would see him panicking, and
he didn't want that to be his Captain's last impression of him.

Fortunately, Phillipa rode to his rescue.  She was flamboyant compared
to the sober J'Naii, but point by point she eviscerated their
assertions.  The best part was, she used J'Naii research to do it,
bringing their experts back to the stand and forcing them to admit
that their own researchers had evidence that refuted their assertions
of what passed for normal.

"In fact, Jasset's findings show there is as much research that
contradicts your assertions as supports them."

"Jasset's findings," the head of the J'naii Social Science Research
Council announced piously, "have been refuted."

"Can you find me one peer-reviewed refutation?  Just one? Because the
only criticism I could find was written by a journalist.  Are you
telling me that journalism and social science are interchangeable on
J'naii?  Because if not, then it looks suspiciously like Jasset's
findings were not refuted so much as ignored.  I could be wrong," she
offered sarcastically.  "So maybe you can help me."

The scientist began to stumble a bit, trying to negotiate a path
between professional pride and the J'naii party line.  It tried to
claim that bottom-line results indicated that subjects were grateful
to be forced into treatment.  Phillipa let It flounder, but as she
glanced up at the judges, her expression said, 'What did I tell you?'

Phillipa scored another coup when she forced the J'naii medical
representative to admit that there was no medical reason for the
brainwashing treatments.  Then she followed it up by bringing Beverly
Crusher to the stand.

The doctor's testimony was full of righteous anger.  The Federation
Medical Association strongly disapproved of reprogramming except in
cases of extreme, otherwise untreatable, psychosis.  To subject a
victim to mind control because of gender preference was an obscenity
past bearing as far as she was concerned.  It was the equivalent of
the abandoned Earth practice of female genital mutilation, she said.

"What's that?" Phillipa asked innocently.

"I have slides that can show exactly what it is." Beverly answered.

Phillipa shrugged and asked permission to have them entered as
evidence.  The J'naii, who had bombarded the judges with charts and
graphs, assumed this would be more of the same and the judges gave
perfunctory permission.  Moments later, as Beverly's calm, dry voice
elaborated on what they were looking at, most people in the room found
themselves nearly gagging with revulsion.

"This is not an exact Human equivalent of what happened to Soren,"
Beverly continued, "but in spirit and effect it is the closest
analogous experience.  This is what you would be subjecting her to by
sending her back to J'naii."

"My God that's horrible!"  Phillipa exclaimed as if she'd never seen
the slides before.  By some miracle, she actually looked pale.  "How
could people do such a thing?"

"I guess they didn't know any better."  The doctor answered.

"But no one does that anymore?"  Phillipa spoke as if she'd forgotten
her surroundings completely and simply sought reassurance that a
terrible chapter in Earth's history was finally closed.

"No more grandstanding, Louvois," the head judge warned.  "We all get
the point."

Will held his breath, waiting for the J'Naii lawyer to deride her dog
and pony show for the amateur theatrics it really was.  Will
recognized the effectiveness of the pictures that had flashed up on
the screen behind them, and he knew that this put the J'Naii at a
tactical disadvantage they couldn't afford to ignore.

Nothing happened.  The J'naii lawyer asked for a recess.

'Then we've won.'  Will thought.  He glanced over at Picard who was
sitting with a stone face.

He looked at the back of Soren's head.  'Don't worry, my love,' he
thought.  'Even if we lose, I won't let them have you.'  His despair
of the early morning was replaced by resolve.  She would be safe.  It
didn't matter if she left him the minute the trial concluded.  No
matter what else happened, she wouldn't have to go back.  He would
make sure of it.

'We had such a short time to be happy,' he thought.  'And I love her
so much.'

Then he derided his maudlin regret.  'Forget it.  She's still my wife.
As long as I have a chance...'

---

That night, after they recessed, he prepared an elaborate dinner, then
took her to the holodeck to spend some time in the Risian spa program.

"You're very nice to do this for me," she tried to thank him.

"Nonsense.  You're my wife, Soren, I want to do this for you."

"Will... I want you to know that whatever happens..."

"Shhh.  Don't say it."  He scooted closer to her in the hot, mineral
springs and pulled her head to his chest.  "I want you to have the
nicest evening I can give you after what you've been through today."

"After what *we've* been through," she corrected.

"Fair enough."  Will tried to think of something uplifting or cheerful
to say, but nothing came to mind.  He pulled her closer and she curled
up against his side the way he loved for her to do.

"We're going to be okay," he reassured her.

"I know," she affirmed.  She hesitated for a moment then reached for
him.  They made love in the briny water.

---

Sitting in Phillipa's office that evening, Jean-Luc offered a cautious
appraisal that the hearing was going well.  Phillipa simply looked at
him and smiled.  It was very much like her to keep her own counsel,
and her silence would have annoyed Picard except he was curious about
what she had planned.

"You've got a trick up your sleeve, don't you?"

"What makes you say that?"

"I know you."

"I wish you knew the judges.  They're the ones we have to impress."

"Oh, I'm certain you've done that.  I watched their faces when you and
Beverly showed the slides.  They were really horrified."

Phillipa smiled wolfishly.  "By the time I'm done with those J'naii
they'll wish they'd never seen me."

"Down girl."  Picard was a bit alarmed at the ferocity in her
expression.  He'd seen that look before, when it was aimed at him, and
he wasn't sure their case would be helped by her pitbull legal
tactics.

"This hearing," he opined, "is an organic outgrowth of the interaction
between two different cultures.  As such I think it needs to be
approached with a certain delicacy."

"Bullshit, Jean-Luc."  As usual, Phillipa gave him no quarter.
"There's nothing delicate about it.  Even if we don't win this case,
the J'naii have already lost.  Their way of life is about to be
ineradicably changed.  They're going to absorb Federation values
because we're bigger and stronger than they are."

Jean-Luc was shocked.  Where he saw the Federation as benevolent and
protective, Phillipa saw an omnivore.  He rejected that image
completely, but he had little success convincing Phillipa that her
search-and-destroy approach was not supported  by overarching
Federation policy.

Their conversation rushed back to him the next day as he watched
Phillipa tear the J'naii's basic argument to shreds.  They claimed to
be able to easily identify and cure social deviants.  She called to
the stand a phalanx of J'naii witnesses to testify that this was not
the case.  Jean-Luc was flabbergasted.  He'd fretted at the way she
blithely ate into his budget for Guests of the Federation as opposed
to Guests of the Enterprise, but now he had to fight to keep his
admiration off his features.  He'd had no idea he was housing
Phillipa's witness list, but he was delighted at the way she fooled
him.

Azassa, Inziel, Tylon, Torad, Zosh, Ferren... the list of J'naii names
was almost endless.  The stories they told, however, were oppressively
similar.  Picard wondered what the other J'naii would think, listening
to the stories of furtiveness and misery.

"When I saw that Soren could leave, I felt I had no choice but to
leave also.  I couldn't do anything else and stay true to myself..."

"I love the Federation because no one here cares if I..."  The  face
turned to Soren, sought encouragement and found it... "like females."

"Soren was brave enough to stand up for Itself.  I went slinking away
to make my life elsewhere..."

Stick to the point, the opposition lawyer said.

"This is the point, your honors.  They claim she's insane because she
prefers a gender.  They claim that having a gender preference impairs
her ability to function in society, yet these people have all
functioned in J'naii society, for decades in some cases.  They claim
to be able to spot deviants, yet somehow they've managed not to
discover insanity in almost three dozen people who've lived on J'naii
all their lives.  And I have written affidavits from almost seven
hundred more people who were willing to attest to the  same thing.
People who, by simply not admitting their preferences  have managed to
escape detection.  And permit me to point out that  *all* of the
people who testified today have chosen to move off-planet  in order to
be safe from their government's repressive practices now  that they've
made themselves known publicly."

Picard glanced over at the J'naii representatives sitting across from
him to see how they reacted to that last statement.  They were not
used to scrutiny and did not know how to keep their dismay off their
features.  Only Krite sat like a stone.

He could not help a spike of malicious pleasure.  It obviously hated
being on display like this.

'Good,' he thought.  'You're the reason we're sitting here in the
first place.'

"Soren's mind," Phillipa continued, "in fact her very existence, is at
stake,"  She didn't even bother to glance over at the J'naii
representative.  "All the 'deviants' I've called today have  put their
lives on the line to challenge their planet's double  standard.  I
submit that if my honorable colleague is unprepared  for a
confrontation perhaps we should consider that tacit  admission of the
weakness of It's argument."

'If I were them I would want to kill you about now,' Jean-Luc thought
at her.  Her telepathy wasn't working that day, obviously, or else she
ignored him.  The ranking judge allowed as how the cause might be
sufficient but that Phillipa was not to take advantage.

Had he been able, Jean-Luc would have applauded.  This  process
excited him.  This was history and the inevitability of  change,
playing itself out right in front of his eyes.  He had a  pivotal part
of it, yet he felt humbled by the opportunity to  participate,
regardless of the outcome.

Mostly, though, he simply wanted their side to win.  He believed they
*would* win, especially when the J'naii legal team declined to
cross-examine more than one of Phillipa's witnesses.  The man, for
that was how he identified himself, was terrific.  He gave his address
as the U.S.S. Enterprise, but before that he'd lived on J'naii all his
life, where he'd had a distinguished career as a hydroelectric
engineer.  He had, he said, never dared claim his gender publically.

When the J'naii lawyer asked him why he was coming forward now, he
simply said he was tired of hiding from himself, that Soren's public
fight had given him strength to make the right choice.

By the time Phillipa finally put Soren on the stand, it was obvious
that the J'naii were simply going through the motions.  It was
apparent to everyone that they'd acquitted themselves poorly, but
Picard needed to hear it.

And so did Will, obviously.  His entire body went rigid when Soren
took the stand, and he didn't relax, even after she was back in her
chair next to Phillipa.

She told her story simply:  She was married to Will.  Federation
protection extended to her through her husband.  She wished to claim
that protection now.  Her very identity depended on it.

The J'naii tried to query her about the disruptions to social order
but Phillipa was having none of it.  The judges agreed that the line
of questioning was out of order.

Both sides rested.  The panel withdrew to deliberate.  Picard tried to
ignore the knots in his belly, but he couldn't help but wonder if he
was about to lose a good first officer.  He did not believe for an
instant that Will hadn't made back-up plans, and he'd long since
decided that whatever Will's next course of action, he, Picard, would
not stop him.

He wanted a decisive victory, but even if they didn't condemn the
practice of psychotectic treatments, he still hoped they would at
least state clearly that the J'naii would not be allowed to take Soren
away.  The judges simply had to agree that it would be  wrong.

But the verdict disappointed them all.  The panel judged that while
Soren might well have violated local social codes on J'naii, it had
not been clearly demonstrated that she had broken any of their laws.
Therefore it was not, by Federation practice, an issue to be resolved
with a legal remedy.  Regarding the question of extradition, the issue
at hand was not appropriate for this venue and the judges could make
no ruling.  The J'naii would have to pursue their request for Soren's
return through diplomatic channels.

Picard sighed heavily.  Instead of a ringing endorsement of personal
liberty, they'd gotten the mealy-mouthed repudiation  of a group of
cautious politicians.  The whole thing felt remarkably unresolved, yet
he still had to pull together some uplifting Federation sentiment
before they went to face the reporters.

He glanced at Will and summarily decided to order him back to the
ship.  He knew from bitter experience that when a hearing like this
was over, the only real feeling was a sense of numbness.

"Will," he said firmly.  "Take your wife and go home."

---

Will ignored Picard's order.  He and Soren went and hid in the witness
room because he had a few things he needed to take care of.  Soren
stared wonderingly as he rooted through an innocuous-looking briefcase
and withdrew the dismantled pieces of a purloined phaser.

"I guess this can go back to the storage locker."  He was smiling his
relief, feverishly keying a series of commands into the console.

"Why did you bring that?" Soren asked.

"It was part of my contingency plan."

She looked up at him in amazement.  "I had one too, but I couldn't
tell you.  You know how you told me not to meet with any of the J'naii
on board.  Well, I've been meeting with them for weeks.  They agreed
to help me get away if we lost.  We were going to shoot the guards and
beam out, then one of them would contact you and tell you where I
was."

Will put the phaser down and hugged her with relief.  "Your plan
sounds a lot like mine."

"I'm sure it does."  She was grinning up at him, holding on like she
never intended to let him go.

"Love me?"  He felt like he was begging, but he had to ask.

"Love you, Will."

They held on to one another for a long moment, then went out to help
Picard face the glare of the news reporters.  True to his nature,
Captain Picard gave many wonderfully stirring soundbites, while
simultaneously restraining Phillipa from bragging about her strategy.
When pressed for a reaction, Will and Soren articulated the same
gracious lie heros always tell after winning a battle:  'We just want
to go home and live normal lives.  That's all we ever wanted.'  They
thanked their many supporters, without whom this ordeal would have
been a good deal more difficult, then security guards cleared a path
for them so they could get away.

---

Soren ran to Phillipa's office the moment she beamed back aboard the
Enterprise.  She needed to thank a specific group of supporters who
would be feeling a bit insecure and out-of-place by now.

For the J'naii who'd gathered to testify on Soren's behalf, the
weakly-phrased ruling was cause for jubilation.  One of their number
publicly defied the authorities and got away with it.  She was a hero
in their eyes, and they wanted to share in her victory, gathering
around her triumphantly, as if her success might rub off on them.  It
eventually occurred to her to invite them to her quarters, and finally
their suppressed excitement found an outlet.  In private, among
themselves, they became exuberant.

Will arrived home to find his rooms full of boisterously happy
people--perverts by their own standards, but perverts who'd been given
this singular opportunity to come out of hiding and celebrate the
accomplishment of one of their own.  His mood lifted immediately.  He
loved a good party.

He didn't even mind that as the only Human in the room his every
gesture was analysed for the emboldened partiers.  When he threw an
arm around Soren's shoulder there was a murmur of uneasy confusion, so
she hastened to explain that it was a Human method of displaying
affection.

"He knows I'm not hurt," she announced.  "Humans indicate solidarity
and closeness in this fashion."

After that, several J'naii timidly put their arms around Will's
shoulders as they thanked him for standing up for Soren.  Will took it
stoically for a while then explained that it was generally only a
gesture used between partners.

"Oh!"  The J'naii hugging him abruptly pulled away and looked down.
Will recognized the self-effacement of the gesture, which meant It was
confused.

"It's alright," he assured It.  "You didn't know."

It looked up and smiled cautiously, and Will smiled back.  He was
proud of how much of his wife's behavior he could readily identify in
other J'naii.  It made him feel more in control, which was a good
thing after months of feeling helpless.

Minutes later, Soren found herself explaining how partnership worked.
J'naii were amazed at the invasiveness of marriage and insisted that
she describe Human customs.  She tried as best she could.  There were
many ways that Human and J'naii were different, and it was surprising
to her how much she'd adjusted to Human culture in so short a time.
They only ate three times a day, but they didn't go hungry because
they ate a great deal at those meals.  They would take it very much
amiss if she gave details of their sexuality--in that, their standards
were similar to J'naii.  Their beer wasn't sour enough.  They did not
eat enough soup by J'naii standards.  Yes, Will preferred to mate with
females exclusively.  It was extremely normal for a human.  No, he
didn't put the hair on his face, it grew there of it's own accord.
Yes, it did look like a pouch, but it was generally not polite to make
such an observation aloud.

To their credit, the J'naii tried not to gape openly, but Will felt
himself to be much on display.  Still, it was a small price to pay for
the relief he felt.  He'd been afraid for so long that he didn't quite
know what to do with himself, but he knew he felt  like celebrating.
He called everyone--Geordi, Data, Beverly, Deanna--in fact anyone he
could think of, and invited them to the impromptu gathering.  Soren's
students got wind of the party and showed up at once, loud and rowdy
in their relief.  The J'naii stared in horror as they lifted her over
their shoulders and doused her in champagne.

"We do this when we celebrate, but you don't have to,"  Will
explained.  He was drunk on happiness, laughing uproariously as J'naii
spontaneously began to throw drinks on each other.

---

Picard had to steel himself to call Will's quarters.  He envisioned
Will's sober relief, a brief exchange, then a quiet drink or two alone
in his quarters as he wound down from the  tension. Instead, the
minute Will's commline opened he was  hit with a happy cacophony that
was obviously the sound of  celebration.  It was only right that he
accept the invitation to  join.  He planned to stay a few brief
moments then leave, but  by the time he and Phillipa arrived, Will had
pushed his dining  table back against the wall and was jamming with
some J'naii  musicians.  Jean-Luc decided he would stay a while,
soaking  up the levity and good spirits.  The party had turned
slightly  raucous by the time he got there, and it lifted him out of
his  mood of fretful dissatisfaction.  He and Phillipa commandeered  a
corner and sat down for a long relaxing chat.  They watched  the
happy, dancing, festive people and began to feel thoroughly  mellow.

The J'naii appeared to have found heaven.  They flirted, daringly at
first, then with the same intense enjoyment with which they danced and
ate.  Their sense of freedom was palpable, and Picard could see that
many of his crewmembers were flattered to be ogled with such overt,
nearly salacious, enjoyment.  He was very proud to note that at least
three couples left the party in obvious quests for privacy.

He also noted with a great deal of inner amusement that occasionally
Phillipa was approached--very warily--and congratulated on her
victory.  When he expressed surprise, Phillipa bragged to him that
she'd lied about needing so many assistants.

"I couldn't let on that they were witnesses because you couldn't tell
what you didn't know."

"But where did you find them all?"

"Gendered J'naii have a very extensive underground network that
reaches off-world.  They came to me, and helped me find others.  Do
you know some of them actually moved off-planet before they even knew
whether I'd need them to testify?"  Phillipa teared up slightly,
thinking about it.  "They moved away *on the chance* that they could
help Soren fight this, Jean-Luc."

"I didn't know."  Picard's voice was hushed with the enormity of what
he was hearing.

"We didn't do this to the J'naii."  Phillipa sounded slightly defiant.
"They did this to themselves.  I'm *glad* we put this issue in the
foreground."

Picard looked at her carefully, recognizing her mood.  He glanced
around him.  The party was definitely winding down.  It was time to
go.

"Come, my weasel."  He held out his arm to her.  "Let's go to my
quarters and I'll feed you caviar and champagne."

"And try to have your wicked way with me?"

Picard merely looked at her, but his eyes were amused.

Will intercepted them as they headed out the door.

"Thank you for everything, Captain."

"We're the ones who should thank you, Will.  'Everything' has included
some extremely harsh territory these past few months."

"So what are you going to do now that this is over?" Phillipa
interjected.  She hated it when things turned maudlin.

"We're going to get married," Soren answered innocently.  She'd sidled
up to Will and had her arm around him possessively.

There was a collective gasp from the few remaining onlookers.  They'd
all seen the recording of her marriage, introduced as part of the
evidence.  What could she possibly mean?

Soren continued as calmly as if she didn't know she was teasing them.

"You know.  Long white dress, doves, a cake.  Will enjoys tradition."

"Of course we want you to officiate, Captain."  Will looked
suspiciously innocent, and Picard felt himself grow still.  His first
officer was up to something.  Picard could hear it in his voice.

"If you will agree to wear the appropriate vestments," Soren added,
deadpan.  Apparently she agreed with her husband that Picard could
take the occasional tweaking, because her expression was elaborately
ingenuous.

"Tunic."  Will specified.

"Censer."  Soren joined in.

"Miter."

"Staff."

"Pointed shoes."

"Red cape."

Picard knew his leg was being pulled only after his horrified
expression failed to elicit any response.  He considered frowning, but
he knew that would only make him look petulant.  Turnabout, he
decided, was fair play.  He pretended to a thoughtful expression, then
nodded.

"Very well," he answered calmly.  "Name the time and date and I shall
be there, appropriately attired."

Will's jaw dropped.  While he was recovering from the vision of Pope
Picard, Jean-Luc smiled at Soren who was watching her husband with
dawning concern.

"Soren, Will.  Enjoy your victory."  Smug, he took Phillipa's arm and
smiled all the way back to his quarters.

---

The End