Chapter Text
Title: Dancing Till Dawn
Author: Poodle
Rating: PG
Summary: The Enterprise is selected to play host to an assembly of Graftian delegates locked in volatile negotiations for mineral rights. But beneath the debate, a deeper question hangs in the balance. Will Graftia align itself with the Federation? The Houses of Graftia are struggling for power among themselves, but the strongest of these, The House of Man'dal, represented by Ta'mar Jess-Cylon Libell, is in favor of such an alliance. Things look promising for the Federation until a presence from the Ta'mar's past returns to endanger not only the negotiations, but the lives of several of the Enterprise's crew as well.
Authors notes: This novella is *so* old that I can't even remember what Season it is set in. Probably Season Five. I was surprised to find it on an old diskette along with some other stories that have been gathering dust for about ten years, so I thought that I would upload it along with the rest.
DANCING TILL DAWN
By Poodle~
"Mama, *please don't go.*"
The words caught the attention of the woman poised before a darkened mirror, and her eyes briefly met those of the girl huddled on the bed behind her. She disregarded the child and continued brushing her hair, when again the girl's pleas drew her attention.
"Don't go tonight."
This time the words were stern, and Carrossa's dark eyes hardened when she met her daughter's gaze in the mirror.
"I must," she snapped. "The man I'm meeting tonight is from the House of Kontell. His family is one of the most powerful I've entertained in years. On his recommendation, alone, two generations of dishonor could be lifted from our heritage. Our family will once more hold its head high and be considered *Ta'mar.* I must go."
"You must *stay.*" JessC refused to relent. Her anger escalated as she clutched a soiled bundle of sheets to her chest. The bundle stirred, and JessC's eyes pierced the woman with reproach. "You must feed the baby."
The woman's cheeks flushed red. She flung the brush across the room where it landed with an angry thump upon the clutter on the floor. "I have nothing to feed the baby!" The words ripped from her lips, and in the silence that followed the tired lines of her face slowly softened and her eyes moistened. "I must go," she whispered.
The girl trembled at the impasse. Her mother was sick, had been for days; the fever broke only that morning. She needed rest; and baby Aliza, clutched against JessC's chest, needed what little milk remained within Carrossa. JessC felt the unspoken pain in her mother's gaze, and her own anger waned. She started to nod her assent, when Aliza whimpered weakly and nuzzled the girl's useless breast, causing the defiance to surge again.
"You will stay home! This baby's yours, not mine." JessC ripped the child from her chest, and ignoring its feeble warbles, held it out before her. "If you leave us tonight, Carrossa, I swear I'll strangle this wailing creature so that I can sleep."
Carrossa ignored the idle threat and turned away. Putting the finishing touches on the jade gown she wore, she carefully arranged the daring depth of its collar to accentuate the rise of her bosom. "I was certain when I gave birth to you sixteen years ago--" she continued as she fastened a necklace around her throat; its jewel glimmered with obscene gaiety in the murky light of the room, "--that I'd learned to prevent that sort of thing." Her eyes fell to the infant in JessC's arms.
The girl's lips formed a scathing retort, when her eyes caught the glimmer of the emerald resting at her mother's throat, and she stammered in surprise, "You're wearing the *Talizon.*"
The woman's long fingers lightly stroked the family gem. "As my mother did before me, and her mother before her, for five generations--"
"But as a *ta'mar*." The girl's eyes echoed the stone's deep green color as she gazed in trepidation at the gem. "You must not wear it; our family is dishonored."
The woman pulled herself up proudly. "Tonight that will end."
"No!" She rose from the bed, still clutching the hungry child. She faced her mother squarely. "Remember what happened the last time you dared to wear the jewel--"
"This time I'm not wrong," Carrossa interrupted sternly. "This man specifically requested a daughter of the House of Libell. I know he can be persuaded to reinstate our family heritage. You and Aliza--" her eyes fell to the baby in her daughter's arms, and all traces of anger drained from her gaze, "--Will never endure the shame brought down to me from my mother. You will live in the time honored tradition due women of your status."
"But your health..." The protest died on her lips when her mother suddenly paled and sank to the corner of the bed. "Carrossa!"
"I'm all right," she protested softly, but her hand clutched the blanket as if to absorb a sudden pain. "It will pass," she whispered then smiled weakly when her color returned.
"You mustn't go." She caught her mother's arm and held it with iron resolve when the woman started to rise.
Carrossa paused, her expression firm, then unexpectedly she reached out and stroked a smudge of soot from the girl's cheek to reveal the ivory beneath. "Who is the mother and who is the child? I often wonder." Her fingers caught a chestnut lock of the girl's hair and held it for a moment, before releasing the hold and standing.
"Carrossa!"
The woman pulled herself up straight and met her daughter's resistance. "No more, JessC. You'll watch Aliza. She's as much yours as mine. When I return, there will be food for us all, and hopefully redemption for our name." She swept the hem of her faded, though elegant, gown from the dust of the floor and marched toward the door.
Aliza began to wail, but the girl bit back her anger and endured the pain of the child's cries without complaint as she watched her mother leave. The woman's back was straight, her stature tall, every bit the regal bearing of a true *ta'mar.* Would she ever carry herself with such elegance, JessC wondered?
As Carrossa's hand touched the handle of the door, she faltered. She grabbed the knob and turned as if to say good-bye but the words never came.
She crumbled to the floor.
~*~*~*~*~*
JessC's hands were trembling as she fumbled with the tiny buttons and slowly removed the gown. The shoes added height to her scant five foot frame, but she had to stuff paper into the toes to achieve a semblance of proper fit. She could never hope to fill her mother's shoes in any sense of the word, yet try she must.
The man had specifically requested a daughter from the House of Libell. A man from the House of Kontell, no less. He must have made the request through the intricate network of underground voices in the streets, since the Libell family had been dishonored for two generations.
Why had he made such a request?
JessC quickly thrust the question from her mind. There wasn't time for idle thoughts, or any thought for that matter. She'd learned long ago that contemplation and memories only held her back. As her hands fumbled with the final two buttons on the emerald gown, and she quickly slipped into it, she allowed her thoughts to trickle into an all-too-familiar darkness.
Aliza was crying.
The hollow sound echoed in JessC's ears, threatening to crumble the fragile facade the girl hoped to achieve by hastily arranging the gown to accentuate her too-slowly blooming form. With effort, she pushed the child's cries into the back of her thoughts.
For a moment, the girl teetered on heels too big for her feet and almost toppled. Her heart, beneath a cotton filled chest, began to thump. Then she lost her breath, and her nerve.
JessC sank to the floor in a miserable heap. She dropped her face into her hands and trembled. But somewhere beyond the empty sound of Aliza's wailing, a voice within her whispered of freedom--her heritage restored. The jewel of her family--the Talizon, glimmered warmly between her breasts, reminding her that she would face the world as Ta'mar, and not a common woman of the streets.
She raised her head, turned toward the source of the anguished cries, and snarled, "Shut up, damn you!"
But the baby was hungry. They both were.
JessC's eyes softened and she pulled herself to her feet, then crossed the room and took the child in her arms. "I have to leave you alone," she whispered. "But I'll be back."
Aliza's eyes bore into hers, seeking answers to questions the child was much too young to understand.
She lightly kissed the dampened forehead, and bent to rest the child alone in her bed, when a final thought occurred. She hesitated then turned instead to her mother's silent form across the room.
JessC carefully laid the baby beside the woman, and whispered, "Carrossa will keep you warm."
But Carrossa's touch was already cold.
~*~*~*~*~*
The eyes.
Beyond the dread that rose to choke her, even beyond the burning pain when he took her, JessC would remember those eyes. They were not the eyes of a man from the House of Kontell, or any man she'd ever known, and she shrank in fear.
But he tempted her with promises of "Redemption" as he whispered "*Ta'mar,*" into her ear. "I know of your grandmother's transgressions against the House of Trenidel, and your excommunication. I will exonerate your family name."
How?
He would not say.
Money, JessC supposed, her heart pounding. Money was something she'd never had. A rare commodity on the world of Graftia; a commodity with the power to make things happen. Anything.
In exchange she had little to offer.
He asked only that they seal the pact in blood. Hers.
JessC pushed her thoughts into the growing mound in the back of her mind and offered a trembling hand.
He took it, saying, "You will be provided for; funds will be placed on account at your disposal. As my ward you will never want."
"Ward?" A frown creased the smoothness of her brow, and again she hesitated. What was he talking about? Could he truly mean to provide for her and Aliza?
He nodded as if privy to her thoughts. "I ask for one thing only." His finger lightly traced the glimmering emerald resting snugly between her small breasts. "Loyalty. Unconditional loyalty."
JessC stood speechless as his fingers grasped the golden chain around her neck and deftly snapped the jewel from her throat. She could find no voice to protest as it disappeared into his pocket.
"Well?"
The stranger stood waiting, still holding her hand in a grip both powerful and cool to the touch.
She trembled, then the thought filtered through her mind, Ta'mar, and she found herself nodding.
"Say it," he demanded, increasing his hold.
"Unconditional," she whispered. "Loyalty."
And the man who wasn't from the House of Kontell or any house JessC had ever known, pulled her against him, and her thoughts tumbled into a darkened corner of her mind.
After that night she never saw him again.
~*~*~*~*~*
"I give you, the Ta'mar, Jess-Cylon Carrossa Libell."
The escort's voice echoed through the whirl in JessC's brain as she slowly adjusted to the bewildering sensation of transport. For a moment, the woman stood on the transporter disk, then took a calming breath and stepped with authority from the platform to acknowledge the Federation entourage assembled to receive her.
"Welcome aboard the U.S.S. Enterprise. I am Captain Jean-Luc Picard." A commanding presence stepped forward and introduced himself. "This--" He indicated a second, much larger man, at his side. "--Is my first officer, William Riker."
The first officer acknowledged her with a slight dip of his head, subtle, appropriate. Even so, the captivating blue eyes that briefly met Libell's stole the ta'mar's breath.
William Riker didn't recognize her.
Or did he?
Libell's bearing never faltered as she held her thoughts behind a facade perfected through six years of service to the Man'dal and returned the nod, then she turned her attention from Riker to acknowledge the third member of the entourage as Picard introduced him.
The woman gasped.
"This is my second officer, Commander Data." When Libell's eyes widened in surprise, Picard smoothly added, "The commander is not Human as our previous envoys to Graftia have been."
"I am an android," he responded softly.
"Android?" Libell repeated in a whisper, when she was interrupted by her escort.
"Jess-Cylon Libell is Ta'mar of the House of Man'dal, and as such, is the sole representation and manifestation of Darnel Man'dal. She is hereby entrusted to you for the duration of these negotiations in accordance with Graftian law." The man turned and bowed stiffly to Libell before returning to the transporter platform, and adding with the embellishment of a subtle smile, "Tear with the Bite of Kerisis, My Ta'mar."
The ta'mar raised her chin with a challenge. "Always."
~*~*~*~*~*
"You lied to me."
"I wanted you." The woman's emerald eyes glimmered with a hint of mischief, but her face held determination. "Had you known I was Ta'mar Man'dal you would have fled like a frightened *minth.*"
Libell wafted through the main chamber of the quarters assigned to her and paused beneath an impressive skylight cut to reveal the vastness of space.
"Few things frighten me, Ta'mar," Riker responded sternly. "But I respect the traditions of other worlds; and yours clearly states that as--"
"--Ta'mar Man'dal, I am the sole representation of Darnel Man'dal, subject only to him." A smile touched her lips. "In all things. But I am hardly a slave."
"That doesn't change the fact that you lied to me."
Riker's eyes were unrelenting, nothing like the dancing gaze Libell remembered three years before when she met the handsome Federation stranger during an impromptu shore-leave granted the Enterprise on Graftian soil. Although Graftia was not, as yet, a member of the Federation, relations had been ongoing for several years.
"I have to leave; the Ta'mar Norton, and Estra, have not yet beamed aboard." The man turned stiffly and headed for the door. "I trust your quarters are adequate."
"Aliza still mentions you from time to time," she called after him, and the man stalled in his trek, as Libell knew he would. "It seems you made quite an impression on her."
The memory of the pixie-faced toddler slowly coaxed a smile from Riker, and he turned.
"She's growing like a weed, as you Humans say." She knew the man's resolve was waning when he returned to her side and stood with her beneath the subtle glow of the stars.
"It's not every morning a man wakes up to find a three year old straddling his chest and pressing a dagger at his throat." He chuckled lightly.
"We're sort of a packaged deal. I'm sorry about the deception," she told him quietly. "But this much is true: it was three of the most memorable days...and nights, of my life."
Riker sighed and looked down into her face. His expression softened. "Why?"
The word fell into the sudden silence of the room.
The woman's eyes twinkled. "As I said, I wanted you." She reached up and gently rested her hand against his cheek, against the silken beard, pleased that he didn't pull away. It was true. The Enterprise officer was an extraordinary man, and after three years of service to Darnel Man'dal, she'd been captivated by Riker's charm and wit. Man'dal was an astute leader, and he'd taught Libell well, but as a lover he was never more than mundane. Riker presented a challenge when she learned of the arrival of Federation officers on Graftia, and Libell relished a challenge.
She issued one now with a steady gaze and an upward tilt of a face washed in starlight.
A smile tugged at the corner of the man's mouth, but the determined set of his jaw preempted a kiss. "Tear with the bite of Kerisis?" he questioned, repeating the escort's earlier words.
"Kerisis is an ancient mythological priestess, part woman, part beast. She was said to devour those who opposed her. My escort Andari was telling me to shred my opponents at the negotiation table." Libell laughed softly. "He's called me Kerisis since I first arrived at the House of Man'dal."
"I confess--the intricacies of Graftian politics still confuse me."
Libell smiled and allowed her hand to fall from the man's face, seamlessly accepting the change in topics. Intimacy was obviously out of the question. For now. "It confuses most other-worlders. Graftia is ruled by seven Primary Houses; although there are numerous Secondary Houses. The Houses, in turn, are run by the ta'mars. We perform all political negotiations. The Houses rise...and fall, according to our individual power."
"Is there not a single undisputed Primary House?"
"Originally, The House of Korinth held that distinction. For over five generations the Korinth family provided the bond that stabilized the other seven houses. That much needed legacy ended abruptly ten years ago when Labon Korinth died heirless. The houses have shuffled in shameless disarray since that day, but no one has risen as the undisputed leader." The woman shook her head. "In my opinion, no one ever will. It was a lamentable day for Graftia. But I'm afraid, the stabilizing force of the Korinth legacy is gone forever."
"As Ta'mar you represent the true heads of state?"
She nodded. "Our leaders, as such, are seldom seen. Man'dal, for instance, hasn't left the grounds of his Southern estate in years. He can't be bothered with something so insignificant as a lucrative contract with the Federation over mining rights."
"Doesn't he realize mintrite is extremely rare and valuable to us?"
"He realizes. But this is my function--not his. First, the ta'mars will fight it out among themselves as to which House holds primary interest. Estra is without consequence; I will easily sweep her aside; Law and Cornel, likewise. My main opposition will be Norton and her sister Ra. La'zon is an unknown factor."
"And when the dust settles?"
"We negotiate with the Federation." She gave him a knowing look. "Which brings us to the real reason your illustrious Federation is so intent on facilitating these negotiations.
Riker feigned a look of surprise.
"You're still hoping to bring Graftia into the fold."
"Guilty as charged."
He leaned near, and for a breathless moment, Libell thought their lips would meet, but he touched her only with his eyes; curious, laughing eyes. Was he mocking her? For a change, she didn't care. She returned the look and whispered, "You promised me a tour of your ship three years ago."
"That was when I thought you were a pre-med student raising her daughter alone in Lrinsa, not the Ta'mar of Man'dal."
"Now I understand; power intimidates you," she countered with a tilt of her head.
The commander, not to be outdone, smoothly slipped an arm around her waist and pulled her against him. "With power comes responsibility, yours to Man'dal, and mine--" His breath burned across her cheek. "--To the Enterprise."
She leaned near...
"One is worthless without the other." He firmly gripped her waist, and surprised her by forging distance between them. At her look of disappointment, he responded with a grin, "Negotiations begin at 0800 hours; that leaves two hours for your tour of the ship."
"Correction." The ta'mar moistened her lips then smiled. "Negotiations have already begun."
~*~*~*~*~*
"Commander Riker promised you a tour did he not, Ta'mar Man'dal?"
Years of training steeled the shock when the door to Libell's quarters swept wide and revealed Commander Data. The woman swallowed hard to suppress a sudden, surprising impulse to cry out in alarm. Captain Picard said the man was an android.
He was the last person Libell expected to see.
Even so, she forced her face to reveal none of the turmoil she felt at the sight of him.
He paused in the entryway as if uncertain. "Is something amiss?"
She drew a calming breath and shook her head. "I was expecting Commander Riker."
"The commander will be unable to escort you this morning."
The android offered no further explanation as he motioned toward the exit. But the ta'mar needed none as she mentally conceded the round to William. The man was intent on maintaining his integrity and avoiding a diplomatic incident. She knew the consequences to her if her indiscretions were announced to Man'dal, but what of Riker?
A smile tipped her lips as she slipped into the corridor. Riker was a worthy opponent but she had parlayed with the best.
The android was speaking, but the ta'mar wasn't listening. The soft, almost monotone lilt of his voice lulled her into thoughts. Thoughts that allowed her to avoid actually looking at, or concentrating on, her unsettling escort. Why the android?
Anyone but him.
Libell fought to clear her thoughts for the upcoming confrontation at the tables. Darnel Man'dal's interests in the mintrite deposits had to be maintained at all costs. Any lapse in power would quickly be capitalized on by the other Houses; and Libell had fought long and hard to establish the House of Man'dal as a primary, rather than merely a secondary, House. Her concentration couldn't afford to waiver now. Not when Graftia was, unbeknownst to the Federation, on the verge of accepting their offer to align itself with them. The House of Man'dal had to remain firm in its established authority.
So why was this happening now? First, William Riker, then...the android.
Libell shuddered and cast the commander a hooded glance.
He caught her eye and paused in his explanation of the engine's warp drive. "Does something displease you, Ta'mar? You appear distressed."
She forced her face into a mask. "Not at all, Commander," she responded smoothly. " It was only a momentary distraction. It seems my thoughts are on the upcoming talks. Perhaps it would be best if I returned to my quarters."
"As you wish."
Efficiently and without question, Data escorted the ta'mar to her door then paused.
"Is there something more?" Libell questioned when he lingered for a moment.
The commander nodded and withdrew a small gilded box from his pocket. He held it out to her. "I was asked to deliver this." At the confusion in her eyes, he continued, "It was transported from Graftia shortly after your arrival with instructions to present it to you before the meetings."
Her eyes fell to the small container outstretched in the golden palm and she frowned. Perhaps her escort Andari had sent it, but why? She hesitated then took the item and opened it.
The air rushed from her lungs in a gasp.
There, nestled in a cloth of black velvet glimmered the talizon of her youth. The emerald of the House of Libell.
The woman fought for breath and looked up to see the unsettling yellow eyes studying her with curiosity.
Data opened his mouth to speak.
"You bastard!" The words tore from her lips as she hurled the necklace into his face. "You lying bastard!"
~*~*~*~*~*
"He knows." The ta'mar's voice shook with fury as she paced her elegant quarters, stopping to glare at the discarded jewel shimmering at her accusingly from where she'd tossed it on the bed.
"Knows?" Andari questioned with barely a glance in her direction as he made himself at home in the comfortable surroundings by preparing himself a drink and slipping onto the bed where he pulled his legs into a crossed position. "Why did you summon me here?"
"You know why." She stalked to where her escort sat and steamed down at him. "He knows about my past. This is no coincidence." She jabbed her finger at the necklace.
Andari casually ran his fingers though the length of dark hair braided down his back. He brought the braid forward and slowly began untwining the locks before glancing toward the object of Libell's fury. "So this is the talizon of the House of Libell. I often wondered why you never wore it."
"Damn you, Andari, listen to me." She slapped his thigh in frustration. "He knows about my past."
The man completed the unweaving of his hair and with a shake of his head allowed it to freely tumble over his shoulders. Then he leaned forward and gently placed a finger to Libell's lips. "Hush," he whispered. "Shame is a debilitating obstacle. It can only be capitalized upon by your enemies."
She pulled in her breath. "Shame?"
"It doesn't become you, My Ta'mar." His fingers found their way into the coiled locks of hair fallen across Libell's forehead where their expertise slowly worked the magic of easing her furrowed brow. "Your past is an ugly little secret you haven't even told me about."
Tension drained, and she sighed and slipped onto the bed beside him. "I haven't seen the talizon in years. You're certain no one from the House of Man'dal sent it?"
"Certain," he repeated and reached around her to retrieve the trinket from the coverlet. He rested it gingerly in the palm of his hand, studied it, then leaned near and pressed the emerald to the hollow of Libell's throat. "I suggest you wear it. Most ta'mars wear the family talizon. Rumors abound as to why you never have."
Her lips pressed thin in frustration. "Because I haven't had it."
"Who, then?" he whispered, his breath whisking across her cheek. Libell looked aside, prompting him to repeat the question as he leaned still nearer. "Who?"
"My...benefactor." She refused to meet the man's probing dark eyes.
Those dark eyes twinkled as the talizon disappeared into his palm to be covered in a fist. "More dirty little secrets."
She huffed and met his gaze with defiance. "You have no idea what it was like for me. No idea."
"That which doesn't break us, makes us stronger." Andari slowly traced the line of tension in Libell's jaw. "And you, Kerisis, are stronger than this. Darnel Man'dal would have dismissed you six years ago, benefactor or not, had he perceived in you, any inherent weakness."
"I still believe he knows," she rasped and snatched the talizon from his hand. "I see it in those horrid eyes. He knows the man who reinstated my family name."
Andari's brow rose in curiosity. "And who might that be?" he prompted, not for the first time in the years since he'd known her.
"I don't know." The confession rushed from the woman, leaving her suddenly drained and unbearably vulnerable. "I never knew his name."
The man absorbed her words in silence as he considered their consequence. "This leaves you exposed," he pondered aloud. "It is not a desirable position to find oneself in. Any one of your adversaries could have more information about you than you do about yourself."
"Don't you think I know that!" She swatted his shoulder, tipping the drink he held and sending drops sprinkling to the coverlet. "This...not knowing, is destroying my ability to concentrate. At the tables this morning I made one of this worst blunders of my career. Norton had the upper-hand the entire time; and what's more, she knew it. If I blow this for Darnel..."
"Hush." Smoothly he stooped and rested his glass safely on the carpet, then cupped her chin and forced her to face him. "You say you believe this Commander Data knows something about your benefactor?"
"He brought me this *thing.*" She held up the necklace with distaste. "He has to know the coordinates from which it was transported." Her eyes narrowed. "If it was transported."
Andari slowly shook his head as if tolerating a high-spirited child. "You're reaching the point of paranoia. Perhaps you should question him."
A shudder ran through her and she looked away. "He makes me...uncomfortable." Was all she would say.
"Then I'll question him," the man countered, tilting her chin up and again meeting her eyes.
Relief flooded her and she reached out, intertwined her fingers in the scattered locks of Andari's hair and tipped his head forward to rest her forehead on his. "What would I do without you, my friend?"
The man laughed softly. "Data's the golden fellow, if I'm not mistaken."
"With those horrid, serpent eyes."
Andari chuckled and rose, then bent to retrieve his glass. "Funny, I didn't find him the least repulsive." He sauntered to the replicator where he promptly prepared himself another drink, then turned to face her. "In fact, I look forward to the experience." He raised his glass in mocking salute and deftly winked.
~*~*~*~*~*
Someone was whispering.
Even in a crowded room, a whisper often cut louder than a shout. Andari was always puzzled that foolish people didn't realize that.
As he carefully weaved his way through the crowd in Ten Forward, a drink gracefully balanced in hand, and moved toward a table, it was unmistakably his name he heard uttered from somewhere among the dimly lit tables.
"Andari Ge Vanta," hissed in astonishment; then softer still, "Trash."
A smile traced his lips as he slipped into a seat and laced his long fingers on the table before him and settled in to wait.
No doubt several of the ta'mars were running loose aboard the Enterprise. It was undeniably Ra's voice he'd heard.
"Yes, you weasel," he murmured to himself. "I'm aboard."
As he slowly sipped his drink, his eyes wandered the enticing shadows of the room until they fell on the portals cut into a distant bulkhead. Their transparent depth danced with a panorama of stars.
The Enterprise was an impressive vessel. Graftia could do much worst than to align itself with the Federation. And if the House of Man'dal had any say, that day would be close at hand.
Ge Vanta sighed and took a deep drink. He would do everything in his power to see that it did. Just as others would do anything in their power to see that it didn't.
His eyes cut the darkness, attempting to find the source of the earlier comments, but Ra and her sister were nowhere to be found. Instead, his scrutiny rewarded him with a glimpse of the officer he'd come to meet.
Commander Data's face was unmistakable among the crowd as he moved toward Ge Vanta and slipped into the seat opposite him.
"You wished to speak with me?" he asked.
Ge Vanta affected his best smile and leaned toward the officer. "I am Andari Ge Vanta. The Ta'mar Man'dal sends her deepest regrets for this morning's incident. She's been under a great deal of stress lately, and she sincerely hopes this latest episode will in no way influence relations between Graftia and the Federation." His voice dropped to a whisper. "And that you, personally, were not offended by her display of temperament."
"It would not be possible for me to take offense," Data responded smoothly. "Nonetheless, it is unlikely to influence relations. You may convey to the ta'mar my apology, as well. I am often remiss in the subtleties of Human etiquette. It is likely that I was in this instance, also."
"Nonsense. The fault was hers." He waved the apology aside and leaned near to study the unique being across from him. The subtle shadows of the room accentuated the fine-boned face, the golden sheen of his skin. "Captain Picard said you are a machine. I somehow find that hard to believe."
"I am singular even among androids. I am sentient as well as autonomous."
"Then you're a person." The man's brow rose in affirmation. "I surmised as much." He tipped his glass to his lips. "Drink with me."
"I do not require liquids," he responded quietly.
The man paused and studied the android over the rim of his glass. "Remember that etiquette you were talking about?"
Data at once appeared apologetic. "I have, again, been remiss. Forgive me." He signaled the bar for a drink, and shortly a man arrived with a glass that Data dutifully positioned on the table before him.
Ge Vanta nursed his drink and leaned across to stare intently into the android's face, then he dropped his voice and said, "There is something else I wish to discuss with you."
Data waited patiently.
The man's eyes carefully swept the room then returned to meet the golden ones that watched him without blinking. He found them disconcerting, yet somehow fascinating. "Is there somewhere that we could talk, Commander--" he again surveyed the room and caught sight of Ra and her sister Norton, "--Privately?"
The android nodded then rose without having touched his glass. "Would my quarters be sufficient?"
He finished his drink in a swig and stood. "I'm sure they'll do."
Together they moved toward the exit, when, suddenly, Ge Vanta felt a firm tug on the braid running down his back. He turned and found himself confronted by an overly-dressed woman in a ruby gown. Her expression was stern.
"Ah, Ta'mar Ra of the House Trenidel." Ge Vanta beamed with false gaiety. "Ostentatious as always, I see."
The woman glowered. "It seems Man'dal's Ta'mar can't last a day in the arena without summoning her security blanket." Her attention shifted to the android commander at the man's side. Her eyes raked him with loathing then returned to glare into Ga Vanta's face. "You disgust me."
The man grinned and bowed. "All the more reason to exist."
"You aren't needed for these negotiations--"
"Madam Ta'mar," Data firmly intervened. "Clearly, Mister Ge Vanta and you share a difference of opinion."
Ra snorted and looked away.
"I suggest you settle it elsewhere."
The woman cut Data with a look. "And I suggest, Commander, that you weigh carefully the companions you choose. I thought better of the Federation."
The android blinked at the sudden confrontation and started to speak, when Ge Vanta gripped his elbow and steered him toward the exit.
"I'd watch myself if I were you, Commander." The ta'mar cast a parting shot. "The friends we choose can be our downfall."
~*~*~*~*~*
"Sorry about that." The man ignored the invitation to sit on the sofa, choosing instead to casually wander the room and view the numerous paintings adorning the walls.
"I find it intriguing, this penchant of persons to apologize for the indiscretions of others."
Ge Vanta paused in his study of the room and chuckled at the android's comment. "I couldn't help feeling the confrontation was my fault. Ra and I have been at odds for years. My presence focused her animosity on you. I'm sorry." He returned his attention to the paintings. "These are good."
Data brightened at the comment and joined the man who stood gazing at the artist's rendering of a blacksmith laboring before an anvil. "They are mine."
His eyes widened. "I'm impressed."
Data acknowledged the compliment with a slight dip of his head. "The portrait is an interpretation of my father." At the man's look of surprise, he hurried to explain, "My creator, Doctor Soong. Are they not one in the same?"
Ge Vanta studied the sincerity of the android's face, then responded softly, "I suppose in your case it must have been. I can't say the same for myself."
Data's head cocked in curiosity at the statement. "Explain, please."
"I, too, have a creator; but I can't claim to have a father. My creation was little more than an accident. A colossal one." He looked away from the probing light of the android's eyes.
"Forgive the inquiry; it was personal and therefore inappropriate. Mister Ge Vanta, perhaps you would care for a liquid." He moved to the replicator and paused for confirmation.
"Please, call me Andari." The man gazed up at the painting and smiled. "I dabbled a bit myself, once, but the results aren't worth mentioning. I've always admired artistic people." He turned to the android. "Sure, I'd love a drink if you can order up something stronger than that syrup at the bar."
Data nodded. "Guests often request true alcohol. I believe this--" He presented Ge Vanta with a tapered glass, swirling with an amber liquid. "--Should suffice."
He took a sip and was rewarded by its welcome burn. His eyes closed in satisfaction, then he slid onto the sofa, glass in hand, and made himself comfortable by draping his leg over the arm. "Your ship's impressive, Commander."
"Data." The android returned Ge Vanta's earlier first name intimacy, then sat opposite him in a chair.
"Then, Data, it is." A smile tempted the man's lips and he raised his glass. "You, too, are impressive."
"You wished to discuss something with me?"
"The Ta'mar Man'dal." Ge Vanta took a soothing sip of his drink, sighed and leaned back. "The package you presented her this morning. Would you happen to know anything concerning its origin?"
He frowned. "Nothing other than the coordinates from which it was transported. I can provide you with those if you are interested."
The man shook his head. "Then it did arrive from Graftia," he spoke softly to himself, then settled more comfortably onto the sofa. "I'm sorry that I questioned you as if you were guilty of some wrong doing."
"I take no offense. Where customs are concerned it is not uncommon to misconstrue the motives of those whose customs differ from your own. I have learned to...expect the unexpected."
"A wise philosophy." The man smiled, feeling suddenly at ease. "Enough of such boring politics," he announced. "I'm much more interested in the wonders of your Federation. Graftia is on the verge of accepting affiliation."
The android's head tilted in astonishment. "Indeed."
"I shouldn't have told you that. I'm not sure why I did." He laughed and shook his head. "It's been one of those days, I suppose. I've never seen the ta'mar in such a frenzy. She's always the epitome of control before any public function. But today..." He trailed and ran his hand through his hair to the base of the braid. Suddenly he felt tired; politics did that to him. He sighed and met Data's questioning gaze, then surprised him by asking, "You wouldn't happen to have any good music around here, would you?"
"I am uncertain as to what you consider 'good'. But the computer's archives are replete with any number of selections."
The man waved his hand with nonchalance. "Play something you like."
"I am capable of fully assimilating numerous symphonies simultaneously. But, doubtless, that would not be to your liking." The android considered for a moment then instructed the computer to play a selection of alien music Ge Vanta was unfamiliar with. Earth. Eighteenth century.
The man settled back and allowed the soothing strains to ease the tension in his mind. He liked the alien complexity of sounds weaving effortlessly from one stanza to the next. He decided, as well, that he liked the alien officer seated across from him, with his polite but firm mannerisms.
The android sat watching him with patient interest written into his face, and Ge Vanta suddenly realized the two of them could easily spend an entire evening comfortably sitting in silence. That was a virtue he seldom found among friends, much less among casual acquaintances.
He smiled and leaned toward Data, placing his feet on the floor and his elbows on his knees. "Have you visited Graftia's surface?"
"Although the Enterprise has shore-leaved on Graftia, I, personally, have not."
"In light of upcoming debates concerning Graftia's status, you should. The shows along the Chabla are superb. In the interest of public relations, it wouldn't hurt you to accompany me as an official guest of the House of Man'dal. I have the authority to grant that. And to be perfectly honest, officially entertaining a member of the Federation, right now, wouldn't hurt our status, either."
Data nodded in understanding. "Such is not an uncommon protocol."
"Then you accept!" Ge Vanta clapped his hands on his knees with enthusiasm and rose.
The android blinked in surprise at the sudden turn of events. "It would be far more appropriate to extend such an invitation to Captain Picard or Commander--"
"Nonsense." He slapped the android's shoulder, causing his eyebrows to rise. "I'm inviting you. We'll sashay through the streets of Chabla along the canal until dawn. We'll make a dashing duo." He executed a graceful twirl, then placed his hands on either side of Data's chair, leaned near and breathed, "You haven't lived until you've experienced sunrise over the waters of BarLana after a night of dancing." He winked.
Data opened his mouth to speak but the words never came.
Ge Vanta stole them with his lips.
~*~*~*~*~*
"Your allegiance is to me."
Ta'mar Man'dal gasped and stumbled back from the viewer. The face filling the screen was the last she expected to see.
"My allegiance is to the House of Man'dal," she countered, steeling her courage and challenging the image from her past.
The haunting eyes that filled the view screen hardened. Libell could feel their presence reaching through space, threatening to rob her of breath.
"Unconditional loyalty..."
His words were her pledge from the past. The years melted and again she was a child, frightened but fierce. Alone.
"You swore," he hissed.
She squeezed her eyes shut and fought to blot the memory from her mind of the cold touch of his hands against her flesh.
"I'm grateful for all you've done for me." Her words sounded hollow to her ears.
"And for Aliza?"
Spoken in monotone, she could hear the threat beneath the words, and her skin began to crawl. She'd come too far from the days of youth and starvation, too far to turn back now.
"My allegiance is to Darnal Man'dal." Strength hardened her voice. "I am a ta'mar. I will not betray that."
"Your mother was a whore. I bought your freedom. Honor binds you to me."
Libell caught her breath. The man's words were true. She struggled to find grounds for rebuttal, but nothing in Graftian tradition could aid her. Her family name belonged to a stranger. He could claim it any time.
"Legally, the record shows I am guardian to the House of Libell. You have been my ward...and Aliza..." His voice became barely a whisper that Libell strained to hear. "Perhaps, she would like to live with me."
"No!"
Libell's heart raced in the sudden silence of the room.
"You have the talizon?"
She nodded numbly and turned her eyes to the emerald glimmering accusingly from the transparent table across the room. She moved to where it lay and picked it up. The gem burned into her palm.
She raised her eyes to the view screen.
"Put it on."
~*~