OH, CAPTAIN, MY CAPTAIN!  (Part I)
     -- Copyright 1994 by Christine Faltz, cmfaltz@panix.com

     The spiral scarlet beam of light hesitated at the door to Picard's
quarters.  She had had no trouble moving past the sensors; they simply
weren't made to detect her.  She was a shape-shifter from deep within the
Beta quadrant -- but she  had other blood, blood she generally hated to
acknowledge.  Ztlaf was half-Q.

               ***       ***       ***

     Picard saw the light, shimmery, intense.  He tried to look away from it. 
He tried to wake up; the light hurt.  Ztlaf saw his discomfort and changed,
instantaneously, into a white mare.  She whinnied softly at him, nuzzling his
chest.  He breathed a sigh inwardly; this wasn't a nightmare.  (Actually, it
was a night mare.)  He looked about for a saddle.  There was none.  He heard
a soft, feminine voice whisper in his mind, "Ride me.  Ride me till morning." 
He became aware suddenly of an erection beginning; he cleared his throat and
looked away from the horse.  Maybe he should take advantage of that shore
leave Troi told him to take.

     The horse whinnied again.  With sheer force of will, Picard quelled his
erection and mounted the horse.  Ztlaf knew she could make him hard with her
mind, but she didn't want it that way.  She had watched him now for weeks --
listened to his voice, seen him commanding his ship.  He was respected and
loved.  He was the most noble of the creatures she had yet to encounter.  She
knew it was the Q in her that wanted to possess him, to take away his
control, to confront him with the fantasies he pushed away and refused to
acknowledge even on the holo-deck.  This time, she didn't fight it; she
didn't care.  She wanted him, and she would be there for him every night,
when he slept.

     Picard was amazed at the silkiness of the horse's body; when he had
looked at her, she had seemed to be looking right back, not the way a horse
would, but . . .  The idea of shore leave presented itself again; he was
having an awfully bizarre dream.  Maybe he should stop eating the Klingon
delicacies Worf treated him to once a week.  He began with a slow trot, but
the feel of it was wrong -- the horse's back seemed to be swallowing him into
it, moving back and forth, rather than up and down.  It was so strange,
peculiar -- erotic.  Yes; this dream horse was moving to arouse him. 
Clearly, that was its purpose.  The moment he realized this, he moved to jump
off, and suddenly found himself flat on his back in his bunk.  He was naked;
he could feel the mattress underneath him.  There was weight on top; he
started.  He was being clutched in the arms of a young woman.  He felt her
breasts digging into his chest; he was inside her, and she was sitting there,
working her vaginal muscles around his penis.  He tried desperately to wake
up.  He couldn't.  he tried to reach for his dream comm badge, thinking he
could extricate himself by calling in a dream security officer.  But no, his
comm badge was not there.  

     "Why do you resist the erotic, the primitive, the animal side of
yourself, Jean-Luc?"  He tried to push the woman off of him, but his fingers,
his hands seemed to have no force at all.  He rolled onto his stomach, and --
now she was below him, he inside her.  He realized suddenly he was breathing
heavily, sweating slightly.  His penis ached for her; he could not stop
moving within her.  Her arms wrapped around him like a vice, she took his
right ear in her mouth, nibbling playfully around it, flicking her tongue
inside and out.  He was feeling a part of himself he hadn't acknowledged
since his early days at the Academy.  He was burning for this woman; even
though already inside her, he wanted to go deeper, faster.  He wanted more,
and more, and . . .  

     Suddenly, at the point where he knew he could not last another second,
she tightened around him, her breath heaving and hot on his neck.  Her
fingernails dug painfully and wonderfully into his back.  He had never felt
a woman so hungry, so . . .  

     Suddenly, he felt himself come, his body shaking with every spurt.  He
became alarmed when he realized he was awake, and Commander Data stood beside
his bunk.

     "Sir?  Captain, are you ill?"

     Picard realized suddenly that his orgasm had not only been intense and
earth-moving, but vocal as well.  

     "Sir?  You're face and neck -- they are quite red.  Are you ill, sir? 
You were making . . . the oddest noises.  You sounded rather similar to Tasha
when . . . "

     "That is quite enough, Commander; I'm fine," Picard shouted.  His blush
had already vanished; he was shaking, however.  "I'm sorry, Mr. Data," Picard
said quietly.  "It's been -- a rough night."

                            The End (of part I)


OH, CAPTAIN, MY CAPTAIN!  (Part II)
     -- Copyright 1994 by Christine Faltz, cmfaltz@panix.com


     Picard was strangely quiet.  He had barely touched breakfast.  
     "Data tells me you had a rough night." Dr. Crusher said tentatively. 
"You're awfully quiet, Jean-Luc.  Are you all right?"

     "Fine, fine," Picard muttered.  He could not look at her.  His hands
were shaking slightly.  He had the feeling that at any moment, an erection
might present itself, unbidden, as they so often did when he was younger.  He
had been careful to sit so that she wouldn't notice it that happened.  He was
very disturbed with his dream of the night before.

     "Captain?" Picard started.  "Jean-Luc, you look . . . "

     "What?  How do I look, Doctor?" Picard barked.  Crusher's head snapped
up, surprised.  "Sorry, Beverly," he whispered.  "I am feeling, perhaps, a
little tired."

     Dr. Crusher produced her tricorder. "No!" Picard got up.  "I am not ill! 
I'm just tired!"

     "All right, Captain," Crusher said quietly.  "I'll leave you then, and
allow you to get some obviously much-needed rest."  She turned and left
abruptly.

     Picard stared after her, feeling ashamed.  Perhaps he was sick; maybe he
should have had her check.  But he was strangely embarrassed, something he
had never felt with her before.  Well, maybe, a few times.  What could that
damn tricorder tell her about sexual arousal?

               ***            ***       ***

     "Captain, Dr. Crusher asked me to look in on you," Troi said, standing
in front of him.  "She says you were a bit moody this morning, quite out of
character."

     Troi was absolutely the last person he wanted to see.  He felt a nagging
suspicion.

     "Counselor, you just lied to me," he said.  "You are here because you
felt it necessary to talk to me."

     Troi sat down.  "All right, Captain.  Yes, I'm a bit concerned."

     For the second time in less than twelve hours, Picard blushed.

     "Captain, the feelings you're experiencing are not unusual, shameful or
anything to be concerned over," Troi stated directly.  "You are being too
hard on yourself."

     "Indeed," Picard said, smiling beside himself.  Troi smiled.

     "Captain, permission to speak frankly?"

     "Go ahead, Counselor." He looked away.

     "You have always been -- rather restrained -- when it came to such
feelings.  You continually deny yourself the luxury of indulging them, even
sometimes."

     "I indulged them enough, Counselor, a long, irreverent time ago," Picard
stated.  Troi noticed he was fidgeting.

     "Captain, I'm not trying to embarrass you.  I just think you should
recognize that you are no more or less human than the rest of us  In fact,"
she added, "even the nonhuman among us take the liberty of experiencing . .
. "

     "Enough, Counselor," Picard interrupted.  "I  am in no state of mind to
discuss this with you, especially you."

     "Perhaps you might confide in Commander Riker, then?" She got up to
leave.

     "Counselor, he is the last person I would confide in about such things."

     "Why?" she asked, smiling.  "Because he would agree with me?"

     "Undoubtedly," Picard said, smiling in spite of himself.

     After Troi left, Picard sat on the side of his bunk, trying to figure
out what to do.  He knew that they had a few days to go before arriving at
Starbase 152 to pick up supplies and some crew who were ending their shore
leave.  He decided to take a nap.



     Ztlaf emerged from the wall of the captain's quarters nearest his bunk. 
She showed herself to his sleeping mind as the scarlet light again.  "No! not
again!  Leave me alone!"  His dream hand came up quickly across his eyes.

     "Captain, you are honestly acting more immature than the young man you
are trying to avoid acknowledging." Ztlaf laughed.  It was like the sound of
small silver bells ringing in the early morning.

     "Perhaps you would prefer this form."  She became Carmala, the metamorph
from two years ago.

     "Carmala," he murmured.  "Hello, Captain," she said, coming towards him. 
She touched his face lightly, placing her other hand atop his head, as she
had done that night long ago.

     "I have always stayed in your mind, a little part of me.  You need me
now.  So I am here."

     Picard was confused.  Was this really Carmala; was she capable of
sending herself into his mind from light-years away?  He snapped out of it. 
What was this crazy stuff he was thinking?

     Carmala laughed.  It wasn't Carmala; it was not her laughter.

     "Captain, it little matters.  I can be whatever you want, whoever you
want."

     "I suppose next you'll tell me you're the devil and have a contract with
some impressionable, defenseless society," Picard snapped.

     "No, Captain.  I am not she.  I have the power to transform; real
power."

     An immediate, panicked thought. "Q?  Is this some sick game designed to
test me again?  If it is --"

     "Not exactly, Jean-Luc," Q's voice said.  "I am not Q, at least not the
Q of whom you are talking.  But I can appear to be.  I am half-Q.  I am not
allowed in the Continuum, because I am damaged.  I am the result of a
disgraceful coupling, according to the Continuum.  I am on my own.  A shape-
shifter with Q abilities.  Partial abilities, of course."

     Picard drew a breath.  Carmala's voice came back.  "You have not been
honest with yourself for a long time, Captain," she said, and Picard found
her in his lap.  "You have denied yourself -- and others, a wonderful side of
you."  She placed her arms around him, leaning her head on his left shoulder. 
"Make love to me, Jean-Luc."  He tried to fling her away, to stand up.  Her
smell was intoxicating; her lips suddenly pressed against his.  He felt the
electrical rush of desire, the hot tingle in his fingertips, in his thighs,
in his groin.  His heart pounded in his head.  "Make love to me," she said
again, close to his ear.  He remembered the mouth of the young woman of the
night before, nibbling at his ear, and in a second, his erection bulged
against his uniform.  As soon as he thought it, Carmala's lips enveloped his
ear, her warm tongue trailing it slowly, sensually.  His uniform seemed to
melt off.  He was standing, holding her, her legs dangling, her arms around
his neck, her mouth to his ear.  He felt weak, and without really thinking
about it sat on his bunk and then lay down.  He was still holding Carmala-Q-
whoever.  He struggled momentarily with his desire.  He studied it for a few
seconds.  It was hot, needy and strong.  He felt it everywhere.  Suddenly, he
made a decision, and rolled onto his right side.  He removed his right arm
from beneath her and pulled the tunic-like garment she wore off one shoulder. 
He saw her smile; no, he felt it.  It was inviting him, imploring him.

     Ztlaf was pleased.  She had had to do very little persuading, and hadn't
used her mind to do any at all.  He was more passionate than she had
realized.  How could a man allow such fire to lie dormant for so long?  He
was kissing her now.  Gently, hesitantly.  She opened her mouth to him, and
they kissed passionately, their tongues in a writhing, electric-hot dance. 
She enjoyed the feel of the heat pouring from him, his wild, still slightly
wary scent.  She reached down and took his erection in her hand, and began
massaging it with a light, teasing touch.  She noticed with delight that his
eyes were half-closed and that he was clearly no longer in the mood to
resist.

     She began kissing him slowly down his body -- his neck, his chest.  She
stopped at his nipples to take each one in her mouth and tease it with her
tongue and teeth.  She lingered over one of them, and before progressing
further, bit quickly.  His breath caught; he hadn't expected that.  She
quickly slid her tongue gently over the nipple, soothing the sting.  She
began her trip downwards again, flicking her tongue in and out of his navel. 
She breathed softly on him; her mouth and breath were hot and extremely
stimulating.  Her lips brushed each upper thigh briefly, and she bowed her
head to take his penis in her mouth.  He flinched and pulled her head back up
to kiss her.

     "Jean-Luc, honestly," she whispered in his mind, "You're such a
puritan."  She went back down and closed her lips around him.  He stiffened -
- everywhere else, that is.  She took him into her mouth, holding him there,
not moving her head, allowing him to get used to it, to like it, to accept
it.  When she felt his muscles relax and his hands begin to touch her
sensually again, she began a gentle suction with her lips while applying her
tongue with alternately soft and strong licks.  She raised her head, then
dropped it to his balls, taking both in her mouth.  Her hand encircled his
cock, well-lathered with her saliva.  She stroked him vigorously, feeling him
building to a climax.  

     She was startled when he suddenly flipped her onto her stomach.  He lay
atop her, and pushed inside her.  She was wet, so wet.  When he reached below
her for her clitoris, she understood why he had chosen this particular
position.  He moved his fingers rhythmically about her clit.  Her back
arched, and an erotic, pleasure-filled growl escaped her.  She gripped the
mattress with her teeth -- when she had transformed, she had left herself
open to everything a human woman would feel -- or for that matter a
metamorph.  Her breath gasped from her, she felt his lips on the back of her
neck, his tongue tickling her.  He gripped her right ear in his mouth.  She
had never felt so good, though she had the power to give herself pleasures no
one could dare to dream about, except those who were Q.  She felt him place
his hands beneath her, gripping her.  He began to fuck her with abandon,
fast, hard plunges deep inside her.  With a cry, he poured himself into her,
his body tensing everywhere.  She felt the spasmodic rush of semen, and
turned and lowered her head to grab one of his fingers in her mouth.  She
sucked on it as he came.

     After, they lay together, enfolded in one another's arms.  "You at least
haven't forgotten anything, Jean-Luc," she whispered.  "I'll be back."

     "When?" he asked, startled from his tired afterglow.

     "When you want me, or when you sleep again," she answered.  "Whichever
comes first."


                           The End  (of part II)

OH, CAPTAIN, MY CAPTAIN!  (Part III)
     -- Copyright 1994 by Christine Faltz, cmfaltz@panix.com

     Picard lay on his bunk, feeling blissfully exhausted.  He asked the
computer for the time, and rose to start a log entry.  Distracted, he decided
he didn't want any record of the recent goings-on anywhere except in his
mind.  He turned to the replicator and murmured, "Tea.  Earl Grey.  Hot."  He
sipped at the steaming cup of tea, put it down and began pacing his quarters. 
Was there an actual being invading his dreams?  Or was he actually making
love to an alien while he slept?  Perhaps his own mind had created her -- it. 
He tried to remember each little detail, not so much for pleasure's sake as
for figuring out what the hell was happening.  "Computer," he said, "Is there
any -- anomaly or presence on the ship which has not been investigated or
accounted for in the last fifteen hours?"  

     "Negative," answered the computer.  He picked up his comm badge. 
"Captain to Worf."  "Yes, sir?" the deep, resonant voice, assuring and ready
to act, filled the room.  "Mr. Worf, have you investigated any reports of an
alien presence -- a possible alien presence -- on the ship?"  

     "No, sir."  "Thank you, Mr. Worf."  "Is there something I should be
looking into, Captain?" Worf asked.  "No, Lieutenant.  Nothing serious."

     Picard retrieved his cup of tea and thought that he should ask Troi to
be here the next time he slept.  He knew that she was aware of his feelings
anyway.  She would be able to tell him what happened while he slept.  Did she
sense anything?  Did he move at all?  The thought made him blush.  But he had
to know; this might eventually be a situation which would affect the whole
ship.  

               ***            ***            ***

     "Counselor, I don't want you to wake me," he said,  "No matter what I --
do, or say."

     "Relax, Captain," Troi said quietly, careful not to look at him; he did
not want her to look at him right now.  "I will say nothing to you except
what you need to know for the benefit of the ENTERPRISE."

     Picard had asked Dr. Crusher for a mild sedative.  Even so, he had
trouble falling asleep.  Troi read quietly by the door, eyes lowered,
seemingly unaware of him.  

     Ztlaf appeared above him, the brilliant scarlet form.  "Captain, I will
not perform for your ship shrink," she snapped.  "She can neither see me nor
sense me right now, and she will only do so if I will it."

     "I thought you said your powers were partial," said Picard wordlessly. 
"I did, and that is the truth," Ztlaf said.  "I cannot take you outside the
ship and keep you alive.  I cannot take anyone off this ship, nor can I
injure or harm someone in any way."

     "Has it occurred to you that you might be harming me indirectly?  By
making me question my sanity, my ability to command this ship?  Questioning
my own perceptions?"

     Ztlaf appeared at the foot of his bed.  "Hello, Troi," she said.  "Your
captain wishes you to validate my presence."

     "Consider yourself validated," said Troi.  She studied the young woman. 
"Is this your usual form?"

     "No, this is," and the intense light came back, this time visible to
Troi.   "I have been Carmala for the Captain, and I would be anything he
wants me to be . . . "

     "That's uh, enough," he said.  "By the way, what are you called?"

     Troi looked at him levelly.  "This is an interesting time to ask THAT
question."

     "Counselor, I thought you were here to observe."

     "Yes, and I believe I just observed something about you, Captain." 
Picard was preparing to snap at her when he saw her attempt to hide a grin. 
Suddenly, Ztlaf changed into Commander Riker.  "Leave us," he said, wrapping
his arms around Troi.  "The captain and I have business to discuss."

     "I want to get something straight right now, -- what is your name, damn
it?"

     "Ztlaf," the alien said, changing back into the young woman of a few
moments before.  

     "You are not to appear, to me or to anyone, as a member of my crew.  Nor
are you to play tricks on any of the civilians aboard this ship!"

     "No problem at all, Jean-Luc.  You see, I don't plan on leaving your
quarters."

     "I'll be going," Troi said.  "Either both of us are crazy, Captain, or
you've found an apparently able playmate."  He heard her laugh softly as she
left.

     "Why did you appear?" he asked her.  "Because you were upset; you wanted
to know if I am real," Ztlaf answered.

     "I don't understand what you want from me," he said.

     "I thought I'd made that crystal clear, Captain," she smiled.  Her
green-blue eyes twinkled.  He watched her mouth curl into a delicious smile,
and he felt himself beginning to warm and tingle. 

     "Is that all you want?" he asked.

     "Would you like me to want more, Jean-Luc?"  She was clearly teasing
him; he smiled thinly.

     "I don't know quite what to make of any of this.  Why me?"

     "Let's just say that you've proven yourself worthy.  There, now, if that
doesn't convince you that I'm part Q, I don't know what will."

     Picard smiled broadly now.  "You know, I haven't gotten any work done
today," he said.  "It's a good thing nothing pressing needs attending."

     "Are you sure about that?" Ztlaf asked, walking toward him, very slowly. 
"Ztlaf, you won't interfere if I need to attend to anything?  You're not
planning on sabotaging my command, are you?"

     "Captain, would I tell you if I were?"  She was still about half an
arm's length from him.

     "As we speak, Troi is making a log entry about today's encounter.  If
anything untoward happens, she'll come to your rescue."

     Picard waited for her.  For the first time, he looked her straight in
the eyes.  They stood like that for several long seconds.

     "You actually . . . "  He stopped; he wasn't used to conversation like
this.  "You actually WANT me.  Really want me. Why?"

     "I thought I eluded you with a quick answer before, Jean-Luc," Ztlaf
said.  "Let's save that for another day."

     The next thing he knew, he was in her arms, floating over his bunk. 
"I'm not even asleep," he said.  "You don't have to be asleep, Jean-Luc," she
said.  "By the way, we did make love."

     He decided this wasn't the time to question how that was possible. 
Besides, he was suspended rather comfortably in the air, floating with her. 
She smiled, and he saw her teeth turn into scissor-sharp fangs.  She slashed
his uniform with a swipe of her head.  He flinched.  But her teeth were
normal again.

     "I'll restore your uniform, later," she said.  Picard wasn't even
thinking of the uniform; it could be replicated.  He was wondering exactly
what else she had in mind.

     Picard made the first move this time.  He brushed hair out of her eyes
and began kissing her, slow, deep, gentle kisses.  Everything seemed to slow
down and take on a superbly sensual quality.  They still floated about the
bunk, locked onto one another.  Ztlaf tasted him and wanted more.  She wished
she could enter his mind completely, and fill herself with his desire.  She
wanted to bury herself in his yearnings and his pleasure.  She slipped a hand
between his thighs and found that she did not have anything to do.  But that
was no reason not to do something anyway.  She left him in the air, and she
stood on the floor, her head a bit below his feet.  Picard found himself
being lowered by nothing at all, and his penis was in Ztlaf's mouth.  Picard
reached down and grabbed at her shoulders, gripping her.  Hanging in the air
like this while she did this, it was too much, it was so terribly, painfully
wonderful.  He was aghast at his lack of control.  But Ztlaf did not seem to
mind; she swallowed every drop, then licked his cock until it was free of all
ejaculate.  She smiled up at him; his eyes were closed.  "Sorry," he said. 
"It's been a long time since I--"

     "Since you got a blow job?" she said, laughing.  He flinched.  "Do you
have to be so -- indelicate, Ztlaf?"

     "Oh, Jean-Luc, you were never afraid to call it what it was when --"

     "That was a long time ago." he said.

     "So?  It still feels just as good, doesn't it?"  She grabbed him and
pulled him down to the floor.  Picard suddenly felt as if he were confined,
paralyzed.  "What are you doing to me?" He tried to move, and could not.

     "Relax," she said, kissing his throat.  She ran her tongue along his
throat, down and took his right nipple in her mouth.  She began sucking, and
he felt his erection coming back.  As soon as it was at full mast, Ztlaf slid
onto him, thrusting herself back and forth, his nipple still in her mouth. 
He still couldn't move.  "Ztlaf, what have you done to me?"

     "Nothing irreversible, Jean-Luc," she said.  "Relax."  She fucked him,
fast, hard.  She seemed to be in contact with only his penis and his nipple. 
Then, she jumped off and was suddenly naked.  It hit him then.  For some
reason, she had never looked naked.  He stared at her breasts, and her
peaches-and-cream complexion.  He tried to reach for her, then remembered he
was immobile.  "Say please, and I'll release you, Jean-Luc," she teased.  "I
don't like this particularly," he said.  "I've been in some situations that,
that were not very pleasant, and I feel very vulnerable like this."  She
sensed his discomfort, sharp and painful.  She immediately released him.

     "You can feel what i'm feeling?" he asked.  "Not just in the sense of
information, but feeling?"

     "Yes," she whispered.  "I'm sorry; I forgot about --"

     "Shhh," he said.  He touched her face lightly.  He saw, to his amazement
that she had tears in her eyes.  "Jean-Luc," she said, burying her face in
his neck.  "I should have remembered.  I'm so, so sorry."

     "Stop it, Ztlaf," he said quietly, but firmly.  "That's over now.  I
just didn't feel like being reminded, in any way, that's all.  It's past. 
Forget it."

          She looked at him.  "Perhaps I should let you be alone for a time. 
Maybe I shouldn't be here at all.  Maybe I will hurt you, unthinkingly,
unaware."

     "Don't," Picard said.  Suddenly, the idea of her leaving was monstrously
wrong.  "No; don't do that.  You can't come into my life the way you did, and
then just leave because you're afraid of hurting me.  How much do you know
about my species?  We are most vulnerable when we are most happy."

     "Do I make you happy, Jean-Luc?"

     "Ztlaf, how can you so easily forget our brief past in favor of one tiny
mistake?"

     She smiled.  He picked her up and carried her to the bunk.  She decided
that there would be no tricks, no theatrics.  She was going to let him do
everything tonight.

          He held her against him, wiping her tears with his hand.  She
pressed her body against him.  They lay there, listening to each other's
breath.  He began running his hands down her body.  He cupped her right
breast in his hand, massaging it gently.  She let out what might be
classified as a purr, were she a cat.  He slid his other hand down between
her thighs.  He leaned over her and began kissing her, deeply and
passionately.  Her arms went around him.  They made low animal noises as they
ground against each other.  His fingers found her and lunged inside.  He
drove them in and out, and she writhed all over the mattress.  She squeezed
her thighs around his arm, thrusting herself onto his hand, trying to help
him deeper inside her.  She felt her clitoris aflame with anticipation.  She
dove between his legs, hungrily seeking his testicles.  He held her tightly,
forcing her down on her back.  He grabbed one of her legs and shoved himself
between them.  She hungrily enveloped him, licking with hard, frantic
strokes.  His mouth sought her hot, enlarged clitoris.  She let out a cry as
he found it, and she gripped his buttocks in her hands as she took his entire
penis in her mouth.  She sucked him savagely, her tongue dancing all over
him.  At the same time, he licked her and drove his fingers into her.  He
brought her to the brink of orgasm, then suddenly, he stopped.  She didn't
realize this was so for about half a minute.  Then, she looked at him
questioningly.  "Say, please," he said.  As they both laughed, he grabbed her
ass in his hands and shoved her closer.  He looked up at her.  She looked
right back.  He kept his eyes on her face as he pulled her so that her legs
dangled over the side of the bunk.  As he went down on her, he saw the hungry
look in her eyes, and felt her tremble with anticipation.  She gasped, on
fire with pleasure, as he began to fuck her with his tongue.

                           The End (of part III)

[Feedback, requests, praise welcome]
                   OH, CAPTAIN, MY CAPTAIN! (PT. 4)


          Copyright (c) 1994, Christine Marie Faltz; cmfaltz@panix.com

     "Beverly, may I talk with you about Captain Picard?" 

     Counselor Troi was dressed in a tight exercise leotard.  Dr.
Crusher turned from studying her calisthenics program menu.  

     "Why?  Is something wrong?  He has been acting awfully distant
lately.  But it's not distance really.  It's more like -- he's unsure
around me.  As if he has something to hide."

     "Well," Troi said.  "I wouldn't dwell on it too much.  I think he
probably just needs a little shore leave."

     "You know something," Crusher said, walking over to look closely at
Troi.  "You had a talk with him."

     "Now, Beverly, are you trying to home in on my turf?" Troi teased. 
But she averted her eyes.

     "Now, I know you're lying, or concealing.  Is Jean ... -- the
Captain all right?"

     "He's fine, Beverly, really."

     "Then what is it, Deanna?"

     "I think this is something you will have to discuss with him."

     Troi began stretching out on the holo-deck mat.

     "Computer," she said, "run Troi, program 7."

     "Deanna?" 

     "Beverly, please," Troi begged.  "I can't talk about this with you. 
I don't want to say this to hurt you, but if he hasn't told you what it
is, he doesn't want you to know."

     Crusher winced.  She left the holo-deck, and nearly bumped into
Data.

     "Data.  I'm sorry; I'm a little distracted."

     "Can I help, Doctor?"

     "No, Data.  Only the Captain can help."

     "I have not been informed of any serious problems or conflicts on
the Enterprise, Doctor.  I believe I would have been informed if there
were such a grave problem.  Are you sure you want to bother the Captain
with --"

     "Data," Dr. Crusher said, "this type of problem has nothing to do
with the ship."

     Data looked at her, considering.  

     "Ah, I understand, Doctor."

     "Good."  Crusher turned and walked away.

     "Doctor?" Data called.

     "What, Data?" Crusher asked, a little shortly.

     "Good luck.  Is not that appropriate?"

     Crusher had to laugh.

          ***       ***       ***

     "Come."  Beverly entered the captain's quarters.  He was smiling
broadly when she entered, but as their eyes met, he quickly grew
reserved, his face closing.

     "Jean-Luc," she said, diving in.  "What the hell is wrong with you? 
We no longer have breakfast; you rarely look at me, let alone say hello
to me when we cross paths.  I figured you were busy, preoccupied with
something you couldn't tell me.  But I know Troi well enough to know
that she knows something I don't."

     Picard sighed.  He began to pace.  He looked at her, then quickly
looked away.

     "Beverly."  He sat down and motioned for her to sit across from
him.  She walked slowly, feeling a terrible dread for which there was no
explanation.

     "We have to talk, Beverly," he said.  She struggled to calm
herself.

     "What about?"

     "My recent behavior.  And -- the reasons for it."

     "I'm listening."

     "Beverly, a while back we agreed - we agreed that although we are
obviously attracted to one another, and that each of us would no doubt
derive great benefits from a more - intimate relationship . . . "

     "Yes, Jean-Luc.  Just get it over with.  Please."

     "Beverly, I don't want to hurt you.  Please, don't be like that."

     "Like what?  You told me all the reasons we shouldn't get-
involved.  They were good reasons.  They made sense.  Are you going to
tell me now that you and Troi --"

     "Oh, no! No!"  

     Picard got up and walked over to her.  

     "That is not what I'm trying to tell you.  Not at all.  Besides,
Mr. Worf has been rather busy in that area."

     She stared at him.  That wasn't something he would say, not even to
her.  He never joked so easily about the relationships of his crew.  He
was changing right before her eyes.  She felt a pang of terrible loss.

     "Beverly? Beverly, are you all right?"

     He lifted her face to look at her.

     "Who is it, then?"  Her lips were trembling slightly, but her eyes
were dry, her face eerily vacant of any emotion.

     "Beverly, please.  Don't do this."

     "Apparently, I'm not the one doing anything, Jean-Luc.  You are!"

     Her voice had traveled up about half an octave; she fought to gain
control.

     "WHO IS IT, DAMN IT?  YOU OWE ME THAT MUCH."

     Picard went back to his chair and sat down.  What was he supposed
to say?  "Beverly, I have a relationship with a nonhuman alien who is
half-Q?"  He couldn't say that.  He had never liked scenarios like this. 
This was never something he had developed a way of dealing with so that
no one got hurt.  He had hurt many like this, he recalled.  But she was
waiting.

     "Beverly," he said, clearing his throat and averting his gaze.  

     "Look at me," she said so quietly he barely heard her.

     "You look at me for this.  I refuse to make this easy for you just
so you can feel better about it, so you can believe that the way you did
it was the noblest way possible!  How could you?  How could you let
whatever you're about to tell me develop to a stage that it obviously
has, and continue, at least for a time, to keep up our usual routine?"

     "Beverly," he said, a bit tightly.  "We never agreed that the
possibility of other relationships was closed to either of us."

     "Other relationships?  No, you're right.  At the very least,
though, I always was aware of what was going on, what the potential was. 
I was always aware of the parameters."

     "Well, I am terribly sorry I didn't ask you for permission," he
said.  There was a stunned silence.  She gaped at him, disbelieving.

     "WHO IS IT?  JUST LET ME KNOW THAT, AND I'LL DROP IT.  Please, do
me that service."

     "Ztlaf, please present yourself," Picard said, sighing.

     "In what form, Jean-Luc?" she asked.

     "My favorite," he answered wordlessly.  

     Ztlaf appeared before Crusher as she had appeared to Picard in
their last encounter -- this was also the form Troi had seen.

     Beverly Crusher looked into the young woman's eyes.  They were very
pretty eyes, green-blue, the type that would look green-gray or dark
blue in -- the dark.  She studied her; she looked nothing like Crusher,
nothing like the other women she knew about.  The woman's hair was
short, medium-brown with traces of red.  She was about Jean-Luc's
height; she had good-sized breasts and long legs.  She had a small nose
and mouth, and a pleasant smile.  But her eyes held something other than
friendliness.  They held sorrow.

     "Don't you DARE pity me, you little --"

     "Beverly!" Picard walked between them.  "She doesn't pity you.  I
don't pity you, and for goodness sake, you should stop feeling sorry for
yourself.  It isn't as though I cheated on you, as if I'd broken some
vow."

     "No, Jean-Luc?  Well that's what it feels like you did." 

     Dr. Crusher stood and backed towards the door, locking eyes with
Ztlaf. 

     "I'm sorry," the woman said.

     "Go to hell!" Beverly cried, and ran through the door.

     ***  ***  ***

     "Deanna, Deanna!"  Dr. Crusher rushed through the holo-deck arch. 

     "Computer!" Troi shouted, seeing Crusher's face. "Quit program!" 

     The holo-deck returned to normal. 

     "Beverly, let's go to my quarters."

     Crusher followed Troi wordlessly to the turbolift.  She was crying
softly, and her obvious efforts to stop seemed to make it worse.  

     "Beverly."  Crusher turned on her.

     "HOW COULD YOU NOT TELL ME?  YOU HELPED HIM MAKE A FOOL OF ME!  SHE
WAS THERE, WHATEVER SHE IS."

     "Ztlaf?" Troi asked.

     "Oh, Deanna, I didn't know you were on a first-name basis."

     "Beverly, stop it!  Would you listen to yourself?"

     They arrived at Troi's quarters.  

     "I know this hurts, and I'm sorry.  I really am.  I know what
you're going through?  This is me, remember?  Do you think I wanted to
be the cause of so much pain?  You've suspected for the past week, ever
since he began making excuses about breakfast.  You saw it coming,
Beverly.  This isn't a time for placing blame.  You have to work through
this."

     "And how do you suggest I do that?  I will never be able to trust
him again, never be able to respect him as I did.  He took so long to
tell me."

     "Beverly, listen to yourself.  You are talking about not being able
to respect a man you've loved and admired for a long time, because he
acted completely true to his character.  You know he handled this the
only way he knew how.  Maybe that's a flaw, and maybe not.  He was never
perfect, and never claimed to be.  He was always honest with you."

     "Until now!"

     "He was honest with you, Beverly.  That's why you're so upset.  A
lie would have been better, because you wouldn't feel this way.  But
then, your security would have been false."

     "Why are you saying these things, when you know what I'm feeling? 
This agony that is so strong I feel as if it could choke me."

     "Because you need to hear it, and because if you don't eventually -
- not right away, eventually -- work this into your mind, you'll never
get over this."

     Troi walked over to Crusher and wrapped her arms around the
trembling, weeping doctor.  Crusher sobbed into Troi's neck, and
Deanna's face showed Crusher's pain.  She attempted to stop the tears
which came to her own eyes.  But she could not.  She clutched Beverly in
her arms, rocking her slightly.  

     "Deanna," Crusher moaned, "How can I look at him in the same way? 
Tell me, Deanna!  How?!"

     "It won't happen for a while, Beverly.  But you will."

     Troi went to the replicator after seating Crusher gently on the
edge of the bunk. 

     "Hot chocolate," she said.  "not that it'll help."

     "Do you want anything, Beverly?"  She turned and saw Dr. Crusher
staring blank-faced at the computer.

     "No. No."  She leaned back wearily on the mattress, closing her
eyes.  

     Troi brought her hot chocolate back to the bunk and sat beside
Crusher, stroking her face gently.

     "Take a nap, Beverly," she said softly.  "It will still hurt when
you wake up, but not nearly as much."

     Crusher called a medic to bring her a mild sedative.  After it was
administered, she slipped into a troubled doze.

     "Well, I'm feeling awfully tired suddenly myself," Troi thought. 
"I'm absolutely bone-weary."

     She asked the computer for a shower and stepped into the field when
she had negotiated the temperature with the computer.  Afterwards, she
lay beside Crusher and slipped into a fitful doze.

          ***       ***       ***

     Ztlaf was restless and unhappy.  She had known about this strange,
largely nonphysical relationship; she had read all about it in Picard's
thoughts.  She could not reach everything within him, only the strong
impressions.  She understood that on some level, he had been able to
hurt the doctor because of his relationship with Ztlaf.  She felt the
discord within her; she wasn't supposed to hurt others; the Q Continuum
had sought her out and made sure they had wired her powers such that
negative actions on her part would make her violently ill and send a
warning signal to the Continuum.  She had to right this situation, or
she would be killed.  Worse than that, she might be condemned to a
lonely exile without Jean-Luc Picard.

          ***       ***       ***

     Deanna Troi woke with a start.

     "Deanna," Crusher said, smiling.  "I don't know what to make of
this, but I feel wonderful.  I had this -- well, strange dream" she
flushed "but I feel completely better.  I had this talk with you. 
Everything seemed to make sense, and I felt myself, in the dream, become
totally unconcerned with what has just happened.  And, better than that,
I still do."

     "That's wonderful, Beverly," Troi smiled.  "And your feelings
towards Captain Picard?"

     "Oh, so he has some fling with this alien.  So what?  He's  still
the same loyal friend I've always known him to be."

     Deanna barely heard.  She was trying to figure something out about
the dream she had just had.

     "Beverly," she said, "that's great, but you know, I just had a
dream about you, too."

     "Were we discussing Jean-Luc?"

     "Yes, well . . . for a time."

     Crusher flushed again.

     "Deanna, it seems that our unwillingness to talk about our dreams
further means we are uncomfortable with certain aspects of them."

     "Yes.  Perhaps."

     Troi got up and walked towards the replicator, then turned and
walked back. 

     "Beverly," she said, "I think the best thing to do would be for me
to just tell you -- what I dreamed."

     "All right, Deanna."  Crusher looked away.

     "I dreamed that you and I went for a swim in a holo-deck bay," she
said.  "We discussed what has happened today and worked it through. 
Then --"

     "The first part of my dream went precisely the same way, Deanna. 
I suppose" she glanced up quickly, then looked away "the rest did too."

     "We -- were intimate."

     They looked at each other, stunned.  Then, they both burst into
laughter.

     "Well, all right," said Crusher. 

     "We are wonderfully close friends; this recent occurrence had to do
with - well -- physical intimacy.  It makes sense."

     "But it doesn't make sense that we had the same dream.  Unless --"

     Crusher sat up.  "That alien!  She did it!"

     "Now, Beverly, let's not jump to conclusions."

     "Before I left Jean-Luc's quarters, she said 'I'm sorry'"

     They each thought about that for a moment.

     After a long, uncomfortable silence, Troi said, "Beverly, I happen
to know that she only has partial powers.  She's half-shapeshifter,
half-Q, or some other combination of the two.  She couldn't have put
such a dream together without considerable help from our psyches."

     "Are you saying --"  Crusher looked at Troi.

     "I'm *saying* that we are very close friends, that we've discussed
very intimate things, and shared our lives in very intimate ways.  It
isn't far-fetched to think that on some level, we are attracted to one
another physically."

     Crusher thought about it for a moment, then smiled.

     "Well, Deanna, you are rather attractive."

     They laughed.

     "Well, should we explore this further?" Beverly asked.

     "Let's go to the holo-deck."

          ***       ***       ***

     The sun glinted off the clear green water.  Crusher and Troi raced
each other back and forth across the bay.  When they were thoroughly
exhausted, they lay out on the beach, side by side on a grassy
embankment.

     "We've been playing this rather innocently," Deanna mused. 
"Perhaps we should do something a little more -- daring -- to see where
it takes us."

     "Like what?"

     Deanna rolled over on top of Beverly, wiping the water off of her
face and neck with a towel that lay nearby.

     "Computer, a change of scenery, please.  A twilight scene, a
clearing in dense woods."

     The scenery changed.  As Crusher watched the terrain change around
them, Deanna began kissing her tentatively on the lips.  Crusher
hesitated.  She had not been intimate with anyone for a long time.  She
briefly considered her disgust when her Trill lover had turned from a
wonderful male companion to a woman.  She remembered the strain between
them, their brief, stilted discourse.  Why had she been so against that? 
The person carried what she wanted with her, didn't she?

     Beverly began to respond to Deanna.  She encircled her in her arms,
and rolled them onto their sides.  They explored each other's bodies
with their hands.  They took turns massaging each other's back and
limbs.  At some point, Deanna began massaging Beverly's breasts and the
area immediately surrounding them.

     "I think I could learn to like this," said Beverly.

     "Really? Me, too," said Troi, feigning surprise.

     "Yes, really.  Regrettably, however, I have a minor operation to
attend to.  How about meeting me back here in an hour?"

     "It's a date.  Same scene?"

     "Same scene."

          
     End of pt. IV


OH, CAPTAIN, MY CAPTAIN! (PT. 5)
          copyright 1994 by Christine Faltz, cmfaltz@panix.com

     Ztlaf was feeling a bit queasy.  She had righted the pain she had
caused, but for how long?  It had been sheer luck that Deanna and
Beverly were attracted to one another on a level that Ztlaf had been
able to tap.  She hovered in the captain's quarters, thinking.  The
scarlet light wavered a bit; its intensity would not make an onlooker
wince.  Ztlaf knew that her misdeed would be punished; she just didn't
know how or when.

               ***            ***            ***

     "Captain,"

     "Yes, Number One."

     "We just received a message from a Ferengi freighter.  They say
they have some merchandise they believe will interest us."  Riker
sounded disdainful.

     "What sort of merchandise?"

     "The message didn't specify.  We have been asked if they may
bring some samples on board so that they can discuss a 'fair
exchange.'"

     "It must be something very interesting indeed for them to think
we are suddenly interested in acquiring goods from them."

     "There's no telling how and where they got whatever it is they
*think* we want."

     "Why don't we just make things simple, Number One; we'll invite
them on board with some of their wares when they are ready."

     "They will be in transporter range in three and a half hours,
sir."

     "Fine.  I'm going to attend to some personal errands, Will.  I'll
be in Ten Forward if you need me."

     "Do any of these personal errands involve your new friend?"

     Picard laughed.  "Will, you never stop!"

     "No, sir.  Not if I can help it."

               ***            ***            ***

     Deanna lay on a thick, spongy layer of moss in the clearing where
she and Beverly had initiated their first physical encounter.  Deanna
felt a little anxious, not that she had time to turn the events of
that afternoon over in her mind.  She hoped fervently that Beverly
felt sure about this.  Deanna wasn't in a rebound, and Worf -- Oh, no! 
How the hell was she going to explain this to Worf?  She remembered
when he and she had discussed the ways in which young Klingons
experimented with sexual maturation.  He had told her that it was
quite natural for bands of young Klingons to have the equivalent of
orgies, though Worf had said the Klingon translation did not have
taboo connotations.  At such parties, it was common for girls to
"play" with girls and boys with boys.  While it was acceptable in
adulthood for women to continue to have sex with women (and with
maturing boys and girls past the Age of Ascension or other rites of
passage) it was looked down upon, and rarely discussed.  It was a
widely held belief (as had been the case on many worlds -- and still
was so on others) that males required greater variety and more sexual
liaisons than women.  Because of this, all Klingon men outside the
warrior class were expected to have encounters with men of their
class.  In the warrior class, however, it was tradition (and therefore
honorable) for a warrior to find a woman with whom he took an oath for
life.  Although many warrior class Klingons had liaisons with men of
other classes, such behavior was strictly forbidden between warriors. 
(Deanna had been mollified only by the fact that women of the warrior
class were expected to refrain from liaisons with one another as
well.)

     "Why such different standards for the warrior class, Worf?" she
had asked.

     "A warrior must be able to count on his or her fellow warriors
in difficult, often life-threatening situations.  Having such
encounters with the men in your group or on your ship would
undoubtedly cause a lack of cohesion and result in mistrust among the
men."

     "That's absurd," Deanna had said.  "If anything, because of their
training in strategy and self-discipline, and the constant
reinforcement of the importance of collective cooperation, such
liaisons are less likely to cause trouble than in other classes."

     "There have been warriors who have argued so," Worf had said.
"They were often long-time shipmates who had become lovers.  They were
ousted from the warrior class.  I don't understand it myself, Deanna,
but they made the others nervous."

     "Why?"

     "Many were afraid that there would eventually develop camps of
warriors who had relationships with shipmates and group-mates, and
warriors who held to tradition and believed it dishonorable and
destructive to the efficiency and discipline of the warrior class as
a whole."

     "And how do you feel?"

     "I cannot understand why a man would desire the body of another
man.  I have never indulged in such experiences.  It is a practice
that makes me very uncomfortable, Deanna."

     Deanna remembered that she had never asked Worf how he felt
personally about women having physical relationships.

               ***            ***            ***

     Ztlaf floated lazily back and forth across Picard's quarters. 
She felt something coming for her; she could not read it, however. 
It was being scrambled, and she could not unravel its meaning.  She
felt instinctively that whatever it was, she had reason to fear it.

               ***            ***            ***

     "Guinan, may I have a few words with you?"

     "Well, of course, Captain."

     "Do you think we could talk elsewhere?"

     "Certainly. -- Regor, could you supervise things for a while,
especially that table of Andorians over there?  Thanks."

     "Let's go to the arboretum."
     
     Picard added nothing more as he and Guinan headed for the quiet
and relative privacy of the arboretum.

     "You look so serious, Captain.  I thought everything was going
rather well for you -- to well, in fact.  Is there a catch?  Have you
learned of one?"

     "No, no, Ztlaf's fine.  I think."

     "What do you mean, 'you think?'  I've never known you to be at
a loss for some recognition of how a situation was going.  Even in the
realm of personal relationships."

     "It's not a problem with me, or with us, for that matter.  It's
Ztlaf herself.  Dr. Crusher came by this morning, and demanded to know
what was going on."

     "Well, I told you that was inevitable, didn't I?  I told you that
you should be straight with her as soon as possible."

     "Yes.  Yes, you did."

     Picard paused in their stroll and looked Guinan straight in the
face.  "Guinan, I introduced them."

     Guinan cocked her head to the side, looking for all the world as
if she were attempting to put Picard in proper focus.

     "You *what*?  Do you think that was wise."

     "Introduced them -- in a fashion."

     "Captain, let's just have it straight, okay?  What happened?"

     "Beverly came in and demanded to know what was going on.  I tried
to ease her into it.  I didn't know what else to do, so I asked Ztlaf
to appear."

     "You didn't?"

     "You think that was a mistake?  I didn't know what else to say,
what else to do.  She would have to know that I was involved with
someone.  She'd wonder who; in fact, she demanded to know who it was."

     "You could have just told her about Ztlaf.  You didn't have to
invite the other woman to the party, Jean-Luc."

     "Guinan, please.  It was hard enough to go through once; don't
ask me to repeat it.  I know you're going to ask what she did."

     "That's right, I am.  What did she do?"

     "She got very upset."

     "I'm sure."

     "Since then, Ztlaf hasn't been quite herself.  You know I
explained to you that her 'home form' which is what she calls it, is
a spiral of brilliant scarlet light?"

     "Yes?"

     "Well, when we aren't -- when we're talking, she usually reverts
to that form, and we communicate by thought.  I just think the words
and she answers.  Sometimes I'll talk out loud, just because it feels
more natural.  It's somewhat strange, because I have to look away from
her when I talk to her when she is in home form.  The light is usually
too bright."

     "Maybe she dimmed down a little because she sees it makes you
uncomfortable to talk to her?"

     "I considered that, Guinan.  But it isn't just the decrease in
intensity.  It -- she has started *flickering*, wavering.  I asked her
about it, and her answer, in my mind, seemed -- I guess the best
analogy would be slurred.  She sounded drugged or sick."

     "And what did she say?"

     "Oh, she said something about down time, that she needed to
regenerate in order to change from one form to another."

     "I thought you said she appears to you in one form when you --"

     "Yes.  But sometimes, she surprises me."  "Picard looked away.

     "Well, tell her to tone down the talent show."

     "I just feel that there is more to it than that.  She told me it
is necessary for her to maintain the home form for half an hour every
thirty hours.  Otherwise, there were no limitations, she told me. 
Now, she says she needs down time."

     "Did you press her?"

     "Yes.  But she said she had to attend to herself in a way to
convoluted to explain.  She told me she had recently found it
necessary to use her powers to fix something she had messed up."

     "You think that has to do with you?  With you and Beverly?"

     "It may have nothing to do with anything you or I could think of. 
It's just that I have this feeling, Guinan.  I've never relied on this
kind of feeling before.  There is no rational reason why I should be
concerned.  Nothing has really changed, except that Beverly knows now. 
In the long run, that is best for everyone."

     "But especially for you."  

     Picard looked at her.

     "What are you saying, Guinan?"

     "Maybe all this worry is misdirected.  Maybe you're really
worried about Beverly.  Maybe your instinctual hunch is the foreigner
guilt, Captain."

               ***            ***            ***

     "I'm back!"  Beverly looked exceptional.  She had dressed for a
night out in the woods, but her casual digs fir her well.

     "Well, come sit down," Deanna answered brightly.  "I fixed us a
beautiful, starry night."

     "How romantic of you, Deanna."  They laughed.

     "I brought something with me," Crusher said.  

     She reached into an opaque sack and took out two genuine
chocolate sundaes. 

     "Perfect!  How did you guess?"

     I didn't have to, Deanna.  Anyone who knows you is aware of your
addiction."

     "I resent that," Deanna said, taking a huge mouthful.

     "What was that?  I didn't hear you."

     Deanna, mouth full of chocolate ice cream and hot fudge, nearly
spilled the rest of her sundae, in addition the contents of her mouth,
as she laughed and gave Crusher a teasing punch.

     "Hey, you save that for your Klingon," Dr. Crusher laughed.  "I'm
not so hardy."

     They ate their sundaes, and discussed the operation which Crusher
had just completed.

     When the sundae cups were empty, they put them down and watched
as the holo-deck breeze carried them away.  The ship would take care
of them.

     "So, we've gorged ourselves; we talked business and gossiped. 
What else should we do, Beverly?"

     "I don't know.  Any ideas?"

     "Yes, I have a few."  Then Deanna grew serious.

     "Beverly?"

     "Hmmm?"

     "I'm nervous."

     "Me, too."

     For a long, uncomfortable moment, they looked at each other
uncertainly.  Deanna could tell, however, that below Beverly's
admission of nervousness, and amid the jangle of her feelings, there
was also excitement and anticipation.

     "Let's just take it slowly and see where we wind up.  All right,
Beverly?"

     Dr. Crusher took a deep breath.

     "I'm ready," she said.
     
               ***            ***            ***

     Picard had a lot to think about.  As usual, Guinan's ability to
get to the heart of the matter had sent him into serious reflection
of his circumstances.  He had to figure out what was really bothering
him.  But that would be easier to do once he had another talk with Ztlaf.

     "Ztlaf, where are you?" 

     Picard glanced about his quarters.  He had gotten out of his
uniform and had taken shower.  Now he sat in his chair and spotted her
hovering at eye-level.  Her color had changed.  It was dull orange,
and she was flickering rapidly.

     "Ztlaf, please.  Please tell me what is happening to you."

     Picard started as the light disappeared.  He felt odd suddenly. 
He stood up and looked around, then knelt and searched for the light.

     "You won't find me there," Ztlaf whispered.  The whisper was a
one of frailty and weariness, not desire.  Picard felt a sick
sensation in the pit of his stomach.

     "No!" Ztlaf's word was a scream.  "Please, please, Jean-Luc. 
Don't do that!  If I hurt *you*, they won't have to --"  The words
trailed off into silence.

     "They?  Who are they, Ztlaf?  And what will they do?  What are
you afraid of?"

     It was obvious that his pain was something with which Ztlaf could
not deal.  He suddenly realized that her -- mood -- had changed after
the encounter with Dr. Crusher. 

     You can't injure anyone.  Yes, that's what you told me.  And you
would act differently whenever you thought you were hurting me.  You
got very upset, in fact."

     He felt a stirring in his groin.  He knew Ztlaf was trying to
distract him.  He tried to ignore it.

     "Ztlaf, please!  Why are you -- fading?  Are you ill?"

     The next minute or so was a wonderful agony.  Picard lay on the
floor, writhing with pleasure.  He tried to focus his mind -- what was
it . . . something urgent . . . Ztlaf . . . Ztlaf . . . !  The moment
he thought of her name he felt a *pushing* or some strange sensation;
she was telling him something.  She was . . . "I'm not going to be
with you much longer, Jean-Luc.  Please know I love you; don't forget
me."  The rest was not words, but knowledge -- Ztlaf was giving him
her last bit of strength by putting almost all that was left of her
strength into stimulating the pleasure centers of his brain directly. 
Picard knew this, then was unaware again, as his whole world blurred
into second upon second, moment upon moment of searing, horrible,
indescribably fantastic pleasure.  He felt himself floating in a
bubble of indefinable delights.  His hands, his feet, everything
became an extension of the hot throb between his thighs.  He gulped
air, and clawed at his bunk, trying to lift himself to it.  He was
having flashbacks of Ztlaf's mouth tasting every part of him, her
hands molding him into what she wanted, and what he wanted, but never
explored.  He tasted her in his mouth; he felt her breath seemingly
all over him.  He gripped the back of his chair, not knowing how he
had gotten to his feet.  He tried to sit in it, stumbled and fell. 
He realized, somehow, that he was vocalizing his ecstasy and clapped
his hands over his mouth, trying to muffle whatever sounds he might
be making.  He rolled from one side to the other, squeezing his
fingers over his face, pressing against his temples, willing the
pleasure to stop and to continue, to lessen and to increase.  He
wanted it to stop; no, no, it shouldn't ever stop.  He was confused;
he was going mad.  He pressed his body to the floor, stomach down,
hoping the aching, throbbing pleasure would stop between his legs. 
He suddenly became aware that he was drenched with sweat -- and semen. 
A lot of sweat; a lot of semen.
     
     Then it stopped.

     Picard lay, his breath sobbing from his throat.  He felt drained,
dehydrated, parched.  His body ached all over, consciousness was
shaky.  "Goodbye, Jean-Luc," he heard somewhere in his mind.  "I hurt
someone, that doctor.  I have to pay."
What?  What?  There was something . . . important.

     "No!"  Suddenly Picard dragged himself to his knees, and forced
himself, with difficulty, to stand.  He searched the room frantically
with his eyes. 

     "Ztlaf, explain this to me!  Maybe I can help!"

     He suddenly caught a glimpse of a tiny flicker of pinkish light
in the corner by the entrance to his quarters.  He dove upon it,
holding his hand out.  

     "Come to me," he said quietly.  "If you have to die, die with me
holding you."

     "No; you will feel what I feel if I do that," Ztlaf's voice was
a mere whisper in his mind.  "I hope you never feel such pain, Jean-
Luc."

     "The time has come to put an end to all the smut and especially
this sickening display of melodrama!"

     Picard whirled.

     "Q!!!"

               ***            ***            ***

     Deanna unbuttoned her blouse, (which, as usual, was already
displaying cleavage) and moved closer to Beverly.  As they kissed,
Beverly reached tentatively to grasp Deanna's left nipple between two
fingers.  She massaged it with pressure that was not quite pain, but
not soft, either.  Deanna felt a surge of pleasure -- it was
Beverly's.  Deanna smiled, and forced Beverly's lips further apart,
thrusting her tongue.

     "Mmmm," she said.  "You taste just like a chocolate sundae,
Beverly."

     Beverly laughed and hugged Deanna closer to her.  She pulled
Deanna's blouse completely off, and bent to take her left breast in
her mouth.  She worked her tongue all around the nipple, and proceeded
to encircle Deanna's breast with long, strong swipes of her tongue. 
Deanna caught her breath; men had done this before, but somehow, this
was . . . different, and as far as she was concerned, better.  Deanna
slid her hand between Beverly's knees and massaged her way teasingly
up to the warmth of her crotch.  Deanna traced the vulva with her
fingers, murmuring, "Wouldn't you be more comfortable if you had a
little less material between you and me?"

     "Most definitely," said Beverly, slipping quickly from her casual
slacks.

     She hadn't been wearing any underwear.

     "Beverly!  You're full of surprises tonight!"

     Deanna snuggled up to Beverly as the doctor worked Deanna's skirt
down her legs and puddled it around her ankles.  Deanna wore a lacy,
skimpy material that had too little to it to call it an undergarment.

     "Why bother, Deanna?" Beverly giggled.

     "I think they're pretty.  And don't say no one is going to see
them, because just has."

                    ***            ***            ***

     Worf paced restlessly outside Deanna's quarters.  He didn't like
to intrude on her space, but where the heck was she?  They hadn't made
a date, but he was feeling rather desirous and was a little annoyed
that her schedule wasn't cooperating.  Finally, exasperated, he
entered the turbo-lift and barked out, "Computer!  Location of
Counselor Troi!"

     "Counselor Deanna Troi is in holo-deck 4," the computer replied.

               ***            ***

     Deanna's face was nuzzled between Beverly's legs.  She kissed
Beverly on her upper thighs, nipping playfully.  She licked her from
clitoris to perineum, slowly, deliberately delicate, giving the
slightest touch with her tongue.  Gradually, she increased the
pressure and speed, while she drove her fingers in and out of
Beverly's vagina.  Beverly was a quiet lover, but that was all right
with Deanna.  She knew all she needed to know; she felt Beverly's
shivering excitement, her desire for Deanna to go faster and harder. 
Most of all, Deanna knew that Beverly wanted to have Deanna's tongue
deep inside her.  No, she wasn't a telepathic lover, but her empathic
abilities in these circumstances were heightened because of her own
sensual pleasure.  She was feeling and enjoying the pleasure of the
both of them.  She felt a delicious, liquid rush between her thighs,
and used her other hand to touch and caress herself while she
continued to tease Beverly, feeding on her anticipation.  Deanna
paused, and looked up.  Beverly's head was leaning to the right,
staring at something.

     "What is it?"

     "I don't know.  I thought I heard something."

     "You're still nervous?" Deanna asked.  "You don't feel nervous
to me."

     "No, I really thought I --"

     "Never mind.  Focus on feeling something, instead."

     With that, Deanna used both hands to open Beverly wide.  She
placed her thumbs inside her, putting pressure on the g-spot.  Then,
she plunged inside Beverly, sending her tongue into a swirling,
whirling dance.  She licked at the vaginal walls, and stuck her tongue
deep inside, as far as she could go.  She left it there for a moment,
intoxicated by the taste and scent.  Beverly's body was rigid with the
need to scream with pleasure, but she had never been comfortable
vocalizing her erotic pleasure.  She bit her lip, trying to maintain
silence.  

     "WHAT THE HELL IS GOING ON HERE?"  

     The booming, startled voice of the Klingon brought each of them
to a sitting position; each attempted to cover herself.  

     "Worf," said Deanna.  Why the hell hadn't she sensed him?

	[The end of part 5.  To be continued...]
Oh Captain, My Captain (Pt. VI)

     Copyright 1994, Christine Faltz, cmfaltz@panix.com

     

     Picard stared at Q.

     "Now it all makes sense," he said.  "You're responsible for Ztlaf's
--"

     "Death?  Not quite yet, Jean-Luc.  But her time is, as they say,
running out."

     "Why?"

     "First of all for My sake, get yourself cleaned up."

     Q snapped his fingers and Picard felt freshly washed.  His uniform
felt dry and clean.

     "Now you're at least halfway fit to be in My presence, _mon
capitan_."

     "But you were *not* invited into my quarters!"

     "Neither was Ztlaf.  But you let her stay.  For a few disgusting
personal favors."

     "Q, on occasion you have surprised me with your ability to be
reasonable.  Could we possibly make this another of those rare
occurrences?"

     "I'm so sorry, Captain.  But Ztlaf knew the rules.  I'm afraid she
will have to say goodbye."

     Q walked over to the tiny flicker of light, barely visible against
the floor now.  Q bent towards Ztlaf and there was a crash which sounded
like one hundred thunderclaps.  

     "Ztlaf!  Thank goodness!"  

     The spiral of scarlet light was brighter than ever before.  Q
turned, momentarily confused.

     "What in Our Name are you doing here?  I thought I got rid of you
two thousand light-years ago."

     "You taught me well," the young woman said. "That's why the
Continuum sent me after you.  They knew you would take things to
extremes, as usual."

     "Amanda," Picard said, smiling.

          ***       ***       

     "LaForge to Bridge."

     "Go ahead, Engineering," said Riker.

     "We're getting ready to dock at Starbase 152 down here.  But we
just picked up readings of massive radiation from the Ferengi freighter. 
There appears to be some source of radiation aboard the ship."

     "From the cargo bay?"

     "No, sir.  On their Bridge.  I think it's from weapons' discharge."

          ***       ***       ***

     "All right, Deanna," Worf said, his jaw set.  "Explain this."

     "There's nothing to explain, Worf.  Beverly and I discovered we
were attracted to one another, and one thing led to the next.  It was
very similar to what happened with us."

     "We took our time about it," Worf said, "and I must point out,
Deanna, that we couldn't ever have done what you were apparently doing."

     "Well, if you were smiling, i'd think that was funny," said Deanna.

     "I'm *not* amused."

     "Deanna, I'm going to leave, so you can talk with Worf."

     "A good idea," said Worf.

     "I disagree," said Deanna smiling.  "Beverly, look at me."

     Dr. Crusher looked into Deanna's eyes.  Deanna smiled, moved her
head ever so slightly in Worf's direction and said "What do you think,
Beverly?"

     Beverly laughed.  "Are you serious?"

     "What is going on here?" Worf asked irritably.  He noticed,
however, that he was getting an erection.

     "Well?" Deanna smiled.

     "You only live once," Beverly laughed.  The two naked women leapt
upon Worf.

          ***       ***       

     "Hello, Amanda," Picard said.  "I can imagine you know how glad I
am to see you."

     "Always coming to the rescue.  You have a lot of learning yet to
do."

     "I think I've learned enough from you," Amanda said evenly.  "How
I've been able to learn anything good from you is a wonder."

     "This shape-shifter was sworn not to hurt anyone, directly or
indirectly."

     "You're a fine one to judge your daughter so harshly.  I don't know
what Q she takes after, but it certainly isn't you."

     "You are the one who coupled with Ztlaf's mother?  You're her
*father* and you wanted to kill her?"  Picard was stunned.

     "We don't put too much stock in silly matters of familial
connections, Jean-Luc.  This daughter of mine should keep her hands out
of things she doesn't understand properly.  She has shown herself to be
highly irresponsible."

     "What have you shown yourself to be time and time again?" Picard
demanded.

     "I'm not going to have a debate with you about my morality, Picard. 
Not that it wouldn't be great fun, mind you.  Right now, my little
apprentice needs to get out of my way."

     "Ztlaf did nothing wrong," Amanda said "and if you want to know the
truth, you did lose me.  The Continuum sent me guidance, because they
knew you'd take advantage of me.  They don't want Ztlaf dead."

     "She will wreak havoc all over the galaxy, and you want to save
her?"

     "You have brought more chaos into the galaxies than she'll ever
bring,"  said Amanda.  

     "Thank you, Amanda," said Ztlaf.

     "And stop calling her Amanda.  She's Q."

     "Forgive us if we choose to keep calling her Amanda, if only to
remind ourselves that there is far more than a fine distinction between
you."

     "Picard, you can be so childish," said Q.   "The things you were
doing with my daughter -- absolutely disgusting."

     "I refuse to accept that you are my father," said Ztlaf.

     "You, my dear, had no choice in the matter," said Q.

     "I certainly didn't.  I don't have such awful taste."

     "Really?  Look at what you've been --"

     Picard lunged at Q, smashing his right fist into his throat.  Q
fell over, clutching his neck.

     "You helped him hurt me!" he sputtered.

     "You deserved it," said Amanda.

     "Riker to Captain Picard."

     "Go ahead."

     "Sir, you won't believe me if I tell you.  Could you come to the
Bridge, please?"

     "Well, Q, I must go," Picard said.  "Please do me the service of
getting the hell off my ship."

     "I'll make sure he does no harm, Captain," said Amanda.

          ***       ***       ***

     Worf flung his arms up, roughly flinging the women from him.

     "What do you think you're doing?"

     "Worf, really," said Deanna sweetly, standing and brushing herself
off.  "Is that any way to treat two naked ladies?"

     Deanna took a log laying just to the side of the clearing and
hurled it towards Worf.

     "How about some poetry, Worf?" she smiled.  Deanna and Beverly
pulled the Klingon to the mossy ground.  He tried to fend them off as
Deanna swiftly removed his uniform.

     "Well, you certainly don't seem angry to me," Deanna mused, holding
his thick, long penis in her right hand.

     "*Deanna*!  You've actually; I mean, he . . .  Doesn't that hurt?"

     "Not if you prepare properly, Beverly," said Deanna, laughing.

     "This is embarrassing, Deanna.  What has come over you?  You never
told me about you and Dr. Crusher."

     "We just had our first -- intimacy this evening, Worf.  We were
barely aware of it.  But enough talk."

     Deanna took Worf's penis in her mouth.  She could only hold about
half of it; the rest she wrapped her right hand around and began
caressing.  Her tongue moved in ever-widening circles, getting harder
and faster as each circle grew.  Beverly began fondling Worf's chest,
massaging it, then moving slowly towards his shoulders.  When she got
there, she began kissing and licking the back of his neck.  Worf was
feeling as if he would explode.  He began growling low in his throat,
bending his head and nipping at Deanna's breasts as she sat next to him,
caressing and sometimes taking his penis in her mouth.  Deanna loved the
infliction of moderate pain his bites caused her.  It didn't really
hurt; it felt invigorating and sensual.  He suddenly threw Deanna
backwards, flinging himself on top of her.  He lunged inside her, and
she let out a cry as his long, thick, twitching penis hit her cervix. 
He was careful, however, to keep himself from going too deep. 
Meanwhile, Beverly stood over them, watching, fascinated as Deanna was
seemingly nailed to the layer of moss by Worf's lusty lunges.  Worf
noticed her again, and beckoned with his right arm for her to get
closer.  She stepped towards them tentatively, and he reached up with
one arm and placed her so that she was right above them.  He turned
Deanna over, seemingly by just moving his penis in the same direction he
wanted her to face.  

     "Get down here," he said gruffly to Beverly.

     Beverly got down next to them, and Worf placed his head between her
legs while still pumping inside Deanna.  He began to taste deep inside
Beverly immediately; his tongue seemed as long and eager as his cock. 
Beverly shivered, her body roaring with sensation.  She couldn't contain
her excitement; she came, her musky liquid pouring onto Worf's tongue. 
The Klingon growled with excitement, reaching up and grabbing roughly at
Beverly's breasts.  They were a writhing, noisy threesome.  

     "Computer," Beverly managed to say.  "Activate privacy codes; no
interruptions except for emergencies."

          ***       ***       ***

     "Will, what is the meaning of this, Will?"

     The first thing Picard saw as he stepped from the turbo-lift onto
the Bridge was the naked forms of six Ferengi females.

     "I'll explain, Captain," said one of the Ferengi.  "My name is
Galoc.  We have been enslaved on a freighter belonging to Ferengi
renegades.  They wanted to sell us to the highest bidder."

     "*you* are the wares to which they referred earlier?" 

     Picard was stunned.  "I know that Ferengi women are kept unclothed,
but sale of your species for any purpose is against --"

     "As I said, Captain," Galoc interrupted.  "These were renegades. 
We are the wives of Ferengi who couldn't make it as merchants of either
quality goods and services, or pirated merchandise.  Our husbands were
the jokes of the village."

     "Before we hear further, I think you ladies would be better off
clothed," said Picard.  "ensign Trinn, would you please take these
ladies to be measured and have the replicator provide something
suitable?"

     "Right away, sir."

     "Will, what happened?"

     "Galoc tells me that their husbands all agreed that they would get
a bundle selling submissive, naked Ferengi females as sex slaves. 
Apparently, if they did well, they were going to start a business and
arrange for the sale of Ferengi women as a new industry."

     "How did they get aboard my ship?"

     "Only two Ferengi males were on the ship with them, one handling
the communications and navigation, the other in engineering.  They
didn't supervise the ladies very well, and Galoc found some weapons they
had gotten in an exchange earlier that day -- not a Ferengi, but some
supposedly valuable beverage with healing qualities from the Andorians."

     "So they killed the two Ferengi men?"
"Yes, sir."

     "Captain, there is a message coming in from the starbase.  We're
ready to dock and to begin having supplies beamed aboard.  There are
fifty civilians coming aboard.  And one other person," said the ensign.

     "Well, who is it, Ensign?"

     "Counselor Troi's mother, sir."

     "Oh, no.  This day keeps getting better and better," Picard
murmured.

     "Sir?"

     "Never mind, Ensign.  Please notify Counselor Troi that Lwaxana
Troi is coming aboard."

     "yes, sir."

     "Commander," the captain said, turning to Riker.  "Notify the
Ferengi government of tonight's occurrences, and then go talk to the
Ferengi women to see if you are able to glean any more important
information from them."

     "Yes, sir."

          ***       ***       ***

     Worf, Deanna and Beverly started.  "Counselor Troi, please come to
the Bridge.  Your mother wishes to speak with you."

     Deanna groaned, putting her clothes on quickly.  The voice had been
that of Lwaxana Troi.

          ***       ***       ***

     "Mother, why didn't you tell me you would be here?"

     "Oh, it was a last-minute thing, Little One; you know me.  I was
within a reasonable distance; I looked up the Enterprise schedule, and
here I am."

     "All right, Mother.  How are you?"

     "Fine, darling.  Fine.  But my goodness, you look like you've had
a run-in with a Betazed river-beast!"

     "We'll talk about this later, mother," said Deanna.

     "Sweetheart, you're throwing up mental blocks against me, your own
mother.  All right, what are you keeping from me?"

     "We'll talk about it later.  But I have to go now."

     "But I just *got* here, Little one."

     "Mother, for the last time -- stop calling me that!"

     Picard saw Lwaxana too late; their meeting could not be avoided.

     "Oh, Captain Picard," she smiled broadly.  "As usual, it is
extremely pleasant to see you."

     "Thank you, Mrs. Troi.  But I really must attend to a group of
Ferengi that --"

     "Nonsense, nonsense.  It's dinnertime, and I'll be eating with
you."

     "I'm afraid that just isn't possible this evening."

     "Well, I'll come by later; we can have some tea together and catch
up on things."

     "Fine, but right now, I must go."

     "Captain," Worf said.  "I was not informed of the Ferengi situation
until just now.  I was off duty, but I still think I should have been
informed.  Where there are Ferengi, there is trouble."

     "I don't think these Ferengi are going to be quite as destructive
as others we have had on the ship, Mr. Worf."

     "They may be naked and female, Captain, but they are still
Ferengi."

     "Lieutenant, enough!"

     "Where are they now, sir?"

     "Commander Riker is speaking with them presently.  Ask him for his
report when he's done, but I don't think they will be a security
problem."

     Although Picard had told Lwaxana Troi that he was going to speak
with Riker, he knew that his first officer would contact him if anything
of importance were gleaned from his discussion with the Ferengi.  Picard
went to his quarters instead.

     "Ztlaf," he said smiling.  She had been sitting in a chair near the
door, talking with Amanda.  She got up and went to him, putting her arms
around him.  Amanda disappeared.

     "Jean-Luc," Ztlaf said, holding him tightly.  "I'm sorry I couldn't
tell you; I just thought it best."

     "What are the terms of your survival now?" Picard said, half-
joking.

     "Amanda said she'll watch out for me, and that she feels I am
responsible enough with the power I have to make my own choices.  The
Continuum -- all but a few -- agrees."

     "Why doesn't the Continuum sanction Q?  They've done it before."

     "They hate to admit that one of them could behave irresponsibly. 
Supposedly, they aren't supposed to interfere with other species and
their circumstances.  But those rules are broken all the time."

     "Ztlaf, I must ask you a favor.  If you can't do it, if it will
result in harm coming to you --"

     "If I can do it, Jean-Luc, I will,"

     "You've undoubtedly read something about Deanna Troi's mother,
Lwaxana in my thoughts."

     "Not much.  You don't like to think of her because she flirts with
you all the time and you're not physically attracted to her, though you
think she's attractive."

     "Yes, well, Ztlaf, she is here, on the Enterprise."

     "Yes, Jean-Luc.  I know."

     "She is going to be after me tonight to have tea with her.  Could
you find some way of keeping her away from me during her stay on the
ship?  Not just tonight, but for however long she stays.  I can't stay
away from her.  She insinuates herself into my conversations whenever
she happens to be where i am.  She throws coquettish banter at me and my
crew, making most of them very uncomfortable."

     "I know exactly what to do, Jean-Luc.  But I need to talk to you
about my idea."

          ***       ***       ***

     "Well, ladies, now that you've all dressed and eaten, I'd like to
get some more information about what occurred earlier today."

     "There's nothing more to add, Commander Riker.  I killed the
engineer and the navigator," Galoc said.  "They wanted to sell us as sex
servants.  Yes, servants; we would be paid, but guess who would get the
money?"

     "I notice none of your friends here say much." said Riker.  "Why
are you ladies so quiet?"

     "Commander, please understand.  These women have been told all
their lives that they must do as they are told.  Women are rarely
allowed to gather together.  The only time they do is to cook for
business conventions and to clean up after the men.  We are taught by
older women who are no longer desirable what to do to pleasure our men. 
This includes learning to make love to one another for the men; they
like to watch.  The only time Ferengi women are able to establish
meaningful relationships is during these classes.  Most of the older
women are bitter, and don't care if we get together and share our
plights.  Of course, most of the women we know think everything is the
way it should be and take their 'duties' seriously."

     During this conversation, Riker became more and more angry.  How
could people be treated this way by members of their own species?

     He returned his attention to Galoc.

     "I must accept full responsibility for the deaths of the men,
Commander.  These women tried to stop me."

     "What do you want us to do?" asked Riker.  "While the Ferengi
government won't be happy about the embarrassment this will cause, they
don't exactly have enlightened notions about their women killing their
men."

     "That's true," said Galoc.  "We request asylum, Commander."

     "I had a feeling you would," Riker said, frowning worriedly.  "I'll
have to talk with the Captain, of course."

     One of the Ferengi women came over to Riker, bowed and got to her
knees.

     "Please, what can I do for you to help assure that Galoc will not
be harmed?" she asked quietly, eyes on the floor.

     "First of all, I want you to look me straight in the face while
standing!" Riker said authoritatively.  He knew this was the only way to
get through to a person so abused.

     "I -- I can't *look* a man in the face, except when he wants to --
well, you know --"

     "Okay, that's it!"  Riker pulled over a chair and sat down. 
"Ladies, I am telling you right now that nobody is going to sell you,
and on this ship, nobody is going to tell you what to do.  You do and
say what you like, when you like, and to whom you like, within reason. 
You come and go as you please.  You, not someone else, decides what
you're wearing, what you're eating, who you spend your days -- or nights
-- with.  Is that understood?"

     "Oh, he's just like Raag," said one of the Ferengi.  "He used to
make me pretend I was a Terran woman.  He used to dress me up and treat
me -- like his friends.  And then, of course, before we had sex, he
would rip my clothes off and hit me a little.  And then we'd have sex. 
It was great.  I really should go back to him.  Who will take care of
him?"

     "Oh, you stop it!" spat Galoc.  "You all are nuts.  If you had been
able to stop me, I think I would have had to kill you all to get away at
the next opportunity."

     Galoc got to her feet and walked past Riker to the entrance.

     "Commander, do you mind if I go to Ten Forward?  I heard all about
it from the person at the transporter who beamed us aboard."

     "Certainly.  Have a good time."

     When Galoc had gone, the five remaining Ferengi looked frightened. 
They looked after her, then looked at Riker.

     The Ferengi who had spoken earlier climbed onto Riker's lap.

     "What are you doing?" he asked, pushing her lightly away from him.

     "You seem so angry," she said.  "But we really weren't treated
badly.  We had homes and food and men who took care of us.  They brought
wonderful trinkets from other worlds, especially different ways to liven
up -- well, you know."

     "You were trained in sex and you can't even talk about it," Riker
said, trying once again to get the Ferengi woman off of his lap.

     "Why talk?" one asked, coming to stand beside him.  "The talk never
excites a man.  They're looking for business talk and such from their
friends and colleagues.  We aren't supposed to talk.  We're supposed to
make them feel good."

     "Like this," said the woman who refused to get off of him.  She
slipped her hands between his thighs and began rubbing them against him.

     Riker got up, nearly knocking the woman over.

     "I'll be back later, when Galoc is back.  I can only deal with
her."

     "No, no, don't leave!  Don't be angry!  We're better than she; she
always got beaten because she wouldn't do what her husband and his
friends wanted."

     "Her husband and his friends?"

     "Yes.  Every fourth night, a man brings his most valued colleagues
home to have dinner and his wife."

     "That is monstrous!" Riker shouted.  "I don't want to hear another
word!"

     Riker turned to leave.  He glanced back when he heard a sound that
reminded him of a whimpering child.  To his horror, three of the five
women were crying.

     "What is it?" he asked, concerned.

     "How could you be so cruel?" one of the women who was not crying
asked him.  "We are ready to please you, to do whatever you wish.  How
could you treat us like this, like little girls who cannot do anything?"

     Riker was horrified.  He realized that these women had truly been
raised to believe that in order to earn their keep, they must answer to
their husbands' whims on a daily basis.  Their self-worth was based on
their sexual skill and their readiness to serve.  If he left, it would
be the cruelest thing he could do.  He knew that explaining the equality
of men and women in his species and many others would do nothing.  This
was all they knew; if Galoc hadn't been able to get through to them -- 
but he had an idea.

     Riker had never much cared for Ferengi women; he had seen pictures
of them.  He wasn't particularly excited at the prospect of having sex
with five women -- strange though that sentiment might seem to those who
knew him.  These women weren't sexually stimulated by him; they had
learned to derive their pleasure from giving pleasure, and if they
failed, they were failures; that was that.  So, he was going to give
them what they wanted -- almost.

     "All right!" he said, pretending anger.  "Get out of your clothes! 
All of you!"  

     Five pairs of Ferengi hands swiftly removed their outfits.  The
clothes were in a jumbled pile in the back of the room within ten
seconds.  Riker briefly scanned their bodies, trying to ascertain
whether there were substantial differences of any kind between them and
other species with whom he had had sex.  There didn't appear to be,
except he noticed that their breasts were all small and perky; it looked
as though Ferengi women came in one breast size.  He glanced quickly
between their legs.  They had no pubic hair; none whatsoever.  That
would make things rather interesting for them tonight, he thought.

     "Lie down," he ordered.  Immediately, all five lay on their backs,
legs spread.  Each pleaded with him with her eyes to be first; he could
see it.  This was horrendous.  He could have dragged these women into
the nearest room as soon as they beamed on board and ordered them to
strip -- no, he could have raped them and they would have been proud of
themselves when he came inside them.  Well, they were going to get a
rather different experience this evening.

     Riker looked them over.  In spite of everything, his groin ached
for the feel of a woman's mouth, a woman's hands and vagina.  He wanted
to feel a tongue dancing in his mouth, taste the sweat on a hardened
nipple and hear the cries of a woman as she came, again and again under
his practiced hands and mouth.  He stripped quickly, wondering how the
hell he was going to explain this one to Captain Picard.

     He walked over to the youngest of the five -- at least she looked
it.  He knelt by her side and looked into her eyes.  

     "You're beautiful," he said quietly, touching her ear lightly.  She
shivered; he saw that her expression was shocked, and a little wary. 
But she was smiling.

     "I want you to tell me what feels good when I touch you," he told
her.  "If you don't tell me, I'm going to be very upset, and I'll
leave."

     "You want to make *me* feel good?" she asked, puzzled.  "But I'm
supposed to make you feel good."

     "But when I make a woman feel good, it drives me crazy," Riker
whispered.  "I feel so good; nothing compares to it.  If you have a
wonderful time with me, I'll be happier than I've been in a long time. 
I hate it when women don't tell me what they like.  I get so angry and
upset when they pretend they're having a good time."

     Riker stopped talking, wondering briefly how often women *had*
pretended.

     "So you tell me.  What would make you feel good?"

     "I -- I don't know," the young Ferengi said.  "I always felt happy
when Tonig took me by force and held me all night afterwards."

     Riker tried not to show his distaste.

     "No, I don't mean what will make me happy so that you can be happy. 
What would you like me to do to you?  If you don't tell me," his voice
became loud and angry, "I'll just go to someone else.  Maybe you're too
young.  Maybe you didn't learn anything about your body!  How the hell
can you know how to please me when you don't even know what pleases
you?"

     "I -- I love being, I mean -- my ears are sensitive.  Like a
Ferengi man's," she stammered.  "And I've always hoped that -- well, I
like to, when we girls are together before class starts, I like to have
my -- well . . . "

     "Tell me!" Riker roared, leaning very close to her.  "Tell me right
now!"

     "My uh --"  She pointed between her legs.  For the first time,
Riker noticed how large a Ferengi woman's clitoris was.  Unless she was
different.  He quickly glanced at the others.  No, they all had large
ones.  Wow, were they in for one hell of a night.

     "I like to get -- licked there," said the woman.

     The others tittered.

     "Shut up!" Riker said.  He rolled onto the young woman and began
kissing her.  To his surprise, she actually was a great kisser.  Well,
at least this wasn't going to be all charity work.  Her breath was sweet
and hot; the musky scent that rose from her was not the stale, sour
smell of Ferengi males.  He plunged his tongue into her mouth, grabbing
at both of her breasts with his hands.  He caressed them softly as he
kissed her, then kissed her eyes, her forehead.  He moved to her right
ear, lightly testing the lobe with his tongue.  She squealed with
obvious delight, grabbing at him with hands that had sharp nails.  The
feel of those nails in his ribs and back brought an immediate erection. 
He rubbed his body against her, his penis between her upper thighs,
grazing her crotch with teasing taps.  She was shivering; he stole a
glance at her face.  She was flushed; a light sheen of perspiration
beaded her face and throat.  He licked her ear all around and then began
pressing his tongue hard inside it.  She slapped one of her hands over
her mouth, howling with ecstasy behind it.  Riker drove his tongue
inside her ear again, while he reached over and placed his fingers on
the left ear of the next woman.  She shuddered with pleasure, moving
closer to him.  He slipped his penis inside the first woman, riding her
slowly and sensually.  He looked into her eyes, momentarily leaving the
other woman.  She was staring, wide-eyed at him, a look of sheer joy on
her face.  Riker pulled out before he came and went down on her, sliding
his tongue inside and out.  She tasted as sweet down here as she had
everywhere else.  His face buried against her; he nuzzled the smoothness
there, and flicked his tongue teasingly all over her vulva.  She was
trembling with pleasure, her head stretched back, exposing her throat. 
Riker leapt onto her, sinking his teeth gently into her neck.  She came,
her liquid pouring onto his cock, which nestled at her groin.  Ferengi
women came a lot.  Riker moved to the second woman, whose ear he had
fondled earlier.  The first woman crawled over and slid her head under
his belly, grasping his penis gently between her teeth.  She licked at
him, cleaning off her orgasm.  Riker felt her hot, tight little mouth
surround him, and his erection throbbed.  He kissed the second woman
briefly, then sought her ear, plunging his tongue inside.  As he did so,
he reached to the right and slipped three fingers inside the first
woman.  She growled deep in her throat, and he kept slamming his fingers
inside and out, twisting them inside her in circles.  The woman whose
ear he now nuzzled suddenly grabbed at his left hand and began sucking
his fingers in the most sensual manner he had ever experienced.  His
whole arm tingled with excitement; shivers went up and down his spine. 
The first woman sucked away at him, her tongue moving faster and faster. 
He felt boiling heat in his balls and thought he would explode inside
her any minute.  

     "Yes," he said to the first woman, "Just like that.  You are so
beautiful."  He ruffled her hair.  Then, he rolled over onto the floor
between the second and third woman.  While the first clung to his penis,
he sat up and looked at the three women who waited expectantly, eyeing
their friends jealously.

     Riker gently tugged the first woman's head away from his cock.  He
told her to lay down where she had been.  She did, and he proceeded to
slide into the second woman's vagina and order the first and third women
to slide close.  He plunged his hands between each woman's thighs,
rolling his thumbs around their clits and sinking his fingers inside
them.  He thrust wildly inside the second woman, forgetting all about
gentleness, softness and sensuality.  He felt as if he were riding an
ever-cresting wave, rising higher and higher with no end.  His fingers
tingled; his skin was on fire with pleasure.  His mouth and nose were
filled with the smell and taste of sweet, musky Ferengi women.  He came,
long and hard, spilling inside the second woman with a grunt.  He
clutched an upper thigh of each of the women at his sides.  

     He moved onto the third woman, burying his face between her legs. 
He raised his head and said, "I've never been with such wonderful
ladies.  You are the best."  He saw the happiness and excitement on
their faces, and got back to work.  He would do this as long as he could
-- until he was called by the captain or until Galoc came back.  He was
glad Galoc seemed the type to stay out all night.  If he had read her
correctly, she was going to do anything and everything a free person
with her own destiny was allowed to do on the Enterprise.  For all he
knew, she was pleasing a group of men somewhere else on the ship.  He
suspected, however, that she was more likely pleasing some women.  Who
knew?  Maybe both.

          ***       ***       ***

     Lwaxana had had a long talk with Deanna, and she was concerned. 
Deanna had just started a steamy love affair with Dr. Crusher; that was
fine, but Lwaxana was an old-fashioned woman, and believed her daughter
should have sown her oats by now and found a man with whom to settle
down.  She didn't understand Deanna's reluctance to do so.  Well, the
doctor was a pleasant, attractive woman; if Deanna wanted her, who was
she to interfere?  But Lwaxana knew she would, if this went on for too
long.

     And then there was Captain Picard.  He was so damned repressed, for
goodness sakes.  She knew he found her attractive, and yet he avoided
her at any cost.  He had lied to her earlier, just to get away from her. 
That business he had had to do to get her off the Ferengi ship several
years back -- that had done it.  Any hope of having a little harmless
fun with him was destroyed.

     Lwaxana sighed and undressed for bed.  She slept in the nude, as
did most Betazed.  Lwaxana would have been comfortable in the nude
almost anywhere.

     The door notified her that someone was there.  Pulling the coverlet
up over her breasts, she called wearily, "Come in."

     Lwaxana was barely able to follow the next few events before they
had ended.  The door swished open, and before Lwaxana had the chance to
tell the computer to turn up the lights, a naked man was on top of her,
brushing the blanket away.  She gasped as he tried to kiss her and she
pushed him away while trying to read who it was.  

     "Computer!  Lights, now!  Now!"  She felt a penis slipping inside
her, and suddenly she caught the messages flashing through her
assailant's mind.

     "Jean-Luc!" she screamed.  "What on earth are you *doing*?"

     "I'm giving you what you want, Lwaxana," he whispered into her ear. 
"You do want this, don't you?"

     "Well, you certainly took your time about it," she said.  "And for
goodness sakes, you could have given me *some* notice! "

     Lwaxana tried to read him as he rode her hard and fast.  She
couldn't believe this was the same man who had run from her time and
time again.  She read a torrent of feelings and thoughts:  He had always
been attracted to her, but tried to repress it; he didn't want to have
a sexual liaison with the mother of a crew member; he was afraid she
would want more from him than just this.  Lwaxana did not understand why
she had never been able to read these feelings.  But she didn't care. 
It was probably because he resisted her that she wanted him so much. 
Well, she decided, it had been worth the wait.  He rolled onto his back
and lifted her onto him.  She rode him now, expertly, the way a fine
Betazed woman should love a person.  She touched his face, caressing his
cheeks, his forehead, his eyelids as his eyes fluttered shut.  When he
came inside her, she tensed with his pleasure and excitement, her whole
body convulsing.

          ***       ***       ***

     Ztlaf slipped through the entrance to Picard's door as the young
woman he liked best.  She walked quickly to his bunk and snuggled in
beside him.  His arms opened to her as she kissed his neck.  

     "I did it, Jean-Luc," she said.  "Lwaxana Troi will never bother
you again.  She had no idea it wasn't you.  I placed the ability to
remember every moment in graphic detail in her mind, any time she thinks
of you.  She'll experience it just the way it happened -- the same
emotions, the same feelings.  She will even come every time.  She will
never chase after you again.  Once was quite enough."

     Picard laughed softly.

     "Ztlaf, you don't feel guilty about doing that, do you?"

     "No, because you asked me to, even though you originally told me
never to appear as a member of your crew, which I assumed also meant
you.  I will do whatever you ask, Jean-Luc, as long as it doesn't hurt
you or anyone else. "  

     "There are times when you can't avoid hurting someone," Picard
said.

     "Yes, I know.  But Amanda explained about weighing my decisions,
and she told me she feels I'm mature enough to make the right choices."

     "I feel a little guilty, Ztlaf."

     "I know, Jean-Luc.  But remember: she got what she has wanted for
a long time -- you.  You have what you've wanted for a long time -- to
be rid of her attentions.  She is happy."

     "But she thinks I made love to her.  She will treat me accordingly. 
And she's likely to tell Deanna."

     "I asked her not to -- or rather, you did, Jean-Luc.  Don't forget. 
Although Deanna can talk telepathically with her mother, Deanna is only
superficially able to read her mother, only slightly more so than she
reads others.  Lwaxana promised that she would keep your little fling a
secret."

     Picard sighed.  Though the edge was taken off his guilt by Ztlaf's
words, he still felt uneasy.  He was not a deceiver, a person who played
with people like this.  He hoped this would not come back to haunt him. 
Ztlaf stirred beside him and was gone.  He glanced around the room for
her light, but could not find it.  Suddenly, he felt her arms lifting
him into the air.  He asked the computer for some light, but still he
could not see her.  He felt her naked breasts pressing against him.  She
had made herself invisible.

     Ztlaf pressed her lips against Picard's throat.  She sank two
vampire-like fangs into his neck.  Picard felt it and his senses were
instantly in an uproar.  He knew that whatever Ztlaf did, she would not
harm him.  He relaxed in her arms, his naked body tingling with desire
for her.

     The fangs retracted.  Picard could not resist; he reached up to
touch his throat.  It felt fine; it wasn't even sore.  Her lips met his;
they were tangled up in one another -- legs wrapped around each other,
hands playing all over each other's bodies.  They were back on his bunk
now, rolling around in a sexual wrestling match.  They fell lightly
(thanks to Ztlaf) to the floor and hungrily tasted and touched one
another.  

     Finally, when Picard had made love to Ztlaf for a full hour, he
fell asleep in her arms, exhausted.  As he drifted off towards his
dreams (all extremely pleasant these days because of Ztlaf) he wondered
why Will Riker hadn't notified him about the Ferengi women.

               End of Part VI (to be continued) 
Oh, Captain, My Captain! (Pt. VII)
     copyright 1994 by Christine Faltz, cmfaltz@panix.com
     

     
     "Jean-Luc, it's 07:00 said Ztlaf, touching his face lightly.  "Will
Riker will be here soon, and I want to talk to you about him before he
arrives."

     Picard's eyes opened slowly.  He stretched and reached out for Ztlaf. 
He rolled on top of her and slid inside her.  Since Ztlaf's arrival, he woke
every morning with the need for a quickie.  Ztlaf laughed and wrapped her
arms around him, pressing her lips to his ear, and brushing them lightly
against him, a soft, feathery touch which fueled Picard's desire.  He drove
himself deep inside her.  She wrapped her legs around his back, pushing him
close.  They moved together slowly, caressing each other.  

     "Jean-Luc," Ztlaf whispered, "when Commander Riker tells you what
transpired last night, do not be angry with him.  Though it will sound
terribly irresponsible, what he chose to do was the best thing he could do
under the circumstances."

     "Picard did not answer until he had come inside her and rested beside
her for a few moments, holding her and sweeping his fingers through her hair. 
Afterwards, they showered and ate breakfast.  Finally, he broached the
subject she so clearly wanted to discuss.

     "Are you going to give me an idea of what Commander Riker did, or are
you going to make me get it out of him myself?"

     "Last night, Will went to talk with the Ferengi, as you asked him to do. 
The apparent leader, Galoc, explained to him that there really was not much
more to tell.  She said she took sole responsibility for the murders of the
two male Ferengi who piloted the freighter.  The other women apparently tried
to stop her, or at least convince her she shouldn't do it.  The others are
still products of the only environment they have ever known, thinking the
lives they have led up until now were as fulfilling as was proper and that
they got everything they deserved."

     "And?"

     "Galoc became irritated with the others, and left to find something
better to do.  Riker tried to leave a short time after, because the Ferengi -
- at least a few of them -- made it plain they wanted to do something for
him.  Physically, that is.  They were frightened and confused, because he
grew so angry at their story."

     "Are you about to tell me that my first officer enjoyed a little
entertainment with the five Ferengi who remained?"

     "Jean-Luc, you're getting that stern, puritanical glint in your eye,"
Ztlaf half-teased.  "Don't do that.  Listen to me.  Riker will be here in
about ten minutes."

     "I'm listening."

     "Riker attempted to leave; some of the women began to cry.  They accused
him of being cruel.  He recognized, without any selfish motives on his part,
that if he left and ignored their attentions, he would have done them
tremendous emotional damage.  He understood that their self-worth is entirely
tied up in their ability to provide pleasure to a man -- that their skills in
that regard was the only yardstick of self-esteem they had."

     "So he bestowed upon them the benefit of his brand of --"

     "Jean-Luc, you're getting angry.  Listen to me.  Nothing else would have
worked quite so well.  Regardless of what happens to the Ferengi, their
government is still going to be upset that they killed Ferengi males,
renegade or not.  Additionally, they are requesting asylum.  If Riker hadn't
done what he did, they would clamor to go home, or worse.  One is potentially
suicidal."

     "Ztlaf, while the Ferengi are not a threat to us, we cannot throw the
prime Directive to the winds because we do not like their societal norms."

     "But selling their women into sexual servitude is not a societal norm;
keeping them for the men in their society is the norm.  While it amounts to
the same thing morally, it's not the same under the Prime Directive. 
Besides, Jean-Luc, you were never a stickler for absolutes.  Rules can't be
stretched too far, but Starfleet is not perfect, which means its rules and
guidelines are not perfect and therefore not absolutes."

     "Even so, Ztlaf, do you know how this will look if Commander Riker's
report is reviewed by Starfleet?"

     "It is not likely to come to that, Jean-Luc," said Ztlaf.  "I will do my
best to see that it doesn't."

     "Ztlaf, you should be careful not to meddle in the circumstances we find
ourselves in.  If you do too much, the Continuum may decide --"

     "Amanda told me that if I were seriously overstepping boundaries, she
would inform me.  This Ferengi situation is a small matter in the proverbial
grand scheme of things, Jean-Luc.  Let it alone.  It will work out."

     There was the electronic beep which indicated a person wishing to enter. 
Ztlaf disappeared as Picard called, "Come in, Commander!"

     "Good morning, sir," Riker said, his eyes averted.  "How did you know I
was --"

     "I had a little talk with Ztlaf just now, Commander," Picard
interrupted.  He noticed that Riker had circles under his eyes, but that he
seemed in very good spirits, which he was trying with difficulty to conceal.

     "Yes?" Riker waited, glancing at Picard and searching his face for
clues.

     "How did you spend your evening, Commander?"

     Riker knew Picard was already aware of just how he had spent the
previous night; he wasn't sure if he knew the why of it.  He had no idea
whether the captain was irritated, amused or disappointed.  He faced the
captain directly and answered quickly:

     "I spent my evening making love to the Ferengi, Captain.  All except
Galoc.  Before you say anything, sir, I would like the chance to explain."

     Picard saw Riker's nervous flush and his eyes, which had never looked so
uncertain in Picard's presence.  Riker glanced about the room.

     "Ztlaf explained everything and therefore saved you the trouble, Number
One."

     "With all due respect, sir, and with thanks to Ztlaf, I really think it
was my place, and indeed my duty, to explain my actions.  It is my place to
justify myself.  If I was unable to convince you that my actions were
calculated and fully thought out, then I had no business doing what I did."

     "Commander, you would have had a hard time convincing me.  I trust you,
Commander, but this, you must admit, is a highly irregular situation.  Ztlaf
felt I wouldn't give you much of a chance to explain.  She was probably
right."

     "just the same, sir --"

     "It's done, Commander.  I will schedule a discussion with Starfleet for
later today to ascertain what to do about the request for asylum."

     "Galoc says she will stand trial for the murders of the Ferengi."

     "I think under the circumstances we might be able to work out an
agreement with the Ferengi government so that that will not be necessary. 
They will be sufficiently embarrassed, I think, to allow quite a bit to be
swept quietly under the rug.  Have we received any response from them yet?"

     "No, sir.  It should be soon, however."

     "All right, Commander.  Dismissed."

     "Sir?"

     "That's it, Number One.  Unless you have something else to confess."

     Riker was startled to see Picard smiling.

     "Nothing more, sir," he said, smiling back.

     "Commander, discretion, please."

     "Absolutely, sir."

          ***       ***       ***

     When Riker returned to his quarters to have breakfast, he found the five
Ferengi waiting patiently for him.

     "Good morning, ladies," he smiled, though somewhat startled.  He was
sure they'd be sleeping for most of the day.  It had been quite a night.

     "Hello, Commander Riker," said the young Ferengi, Clagara.  "We thought
you might need a morning pick-me-up."

     "You have got to be kidding," Riker laughed.  "I'm exhausted."

     They laughed, clearly taking his statement as a compliment.

     "We would like to wait for you in your quarters," said Clagara.  "This
way, when you are finished with your duties, we can -- relax you."

     "Rest is not what you will do for me.  Trust me," Riker said.

     "You don't want us any longer?" asked another Ferengi.

     "That's not it at all," he said, touching her ear gently.  He watched as
a flush spread across her face and neck.

     "I can't handle all of you every day.  Besides," he added as he beckoned
them to follow him into his quarters, "there are other people on this ship
who would appreciate your abilities."

     "But they won't do -- what you did for us," said Clagara shyly.

     "Why do you think I'm so special?" Riker asked.  "There are many beings,
both female and male, who are used to making sex an equal experience, where
each partner takes pleasure from giving and taking."

     "Really?"

     "Yes.  There are also people who are very new to sex, or who for one
reason or another haven't had much experience, or at least good experiences,
with sex."

     "So we could *teach* them," said Targala.  Riker recalled her mouth
around his penis; she had been particularly exciting.  He felt himself grow
hard.  He wanted to feel her around him right now.

     "Yes, you certainly could," he beamed at her.

     "Can you tell us where to find some of these newcomers to sex?" asked
Clagara.

     "There is a freshly graduated young man from the Academy, visiting his
mother, the ship's doctor while we are in dock here." said Riker.  "His name
is Wesley Crusher.  He is quite new to love-making.  There is also the ship's
chief engineer, Geordi LaForge.  He hasn't been lucky for quite a while.  I
think you ladies might be able to make them very happy.  But please, I just
ask one favor."

     "Do not tell them you sent us," said Targala.  "Their male egos will be
bruised."

     "Right you are," said Riker.

     "We will do that, Commander Riker," said Targala.  She turned to the
others.  

     "I will meet you in Ten Forward in ten minutes for breakfast," she said
to them.  "I will ask the commander questions about this Wesley and Geordi so
that we can find them."

     "All right," said Clagara.  She and the other three left.

     "You can just ask Guinan, in Ten Forward," said Riker.  "If Wes or
Geordi come in, she will point them out to you."

     "I did not really stay to get this information from you, Riker," said
Targala, kneeling before him.  "I see you are hard beneath your uniform.  You
cannot start your day in such discomfort."

     Riker looked at her.  He knew he shouldn't do this, but he remembered
her mouth, her quick and able tongue.  He remembered how she had given him a
body bath with her tongue after he had made love to all five of them.  Then,
her friends had joined her.  They massaged him and licked him, swallowed
mouthful after mouthful of his ejaculate.  He was surprised he wasn't sore. 
He was not disappointed with his ability to get hard even after the night he
had spent.

     He removed his uniform, his penis and testicles were hot with
anticipation.  He felt the pressure inside; he saw her in his mind's eye from
last night, her head bobbing up and down as she worked her mouth expertly,
her fingers applying just the right pressure on his balls.  She took him in
her hands now, encircling him with her fingers.  She worked him to a feverish
desire with her caresses, and finally, when he thought he was going to have
to beg her to take him in her mouth, she closed her lips around him.  The
feel of her warm tongue and hot breath sent a new rush of desire through his
groin.  He grabbed her head and pushed himself deep into her mouth.  He was
still amazed at the Ferengi ability to take him to the back of their throats
without any difficulty.  He was not huge, but he certainly had a good-sized
penis, and the Ferengi women handled it skillfully.  Her tongue pressed
against his shaft with fervent swipes.  His thighs trembled with pleasure; he
grunted low in his throat.

     "Yes, Targala, yes," he said quietly.  "You are the best I've ever had. 
Don't stop; please, don't stop."

     Targala felt a rush of pleasure run through her to her fingertips.  Her
ears were hot with excitement.  She felt Riker's body temperature rise
slightly; she could smell the change in his scent.  She worked her mouth all
over him, manipulating him towards his climax.  She remembered the taste of
him from the night before -- a much more pleasant taste than her husband's. 
She wanted to take mouthful after mouthful of him inside her.  She began to
jerk her mouth up and down vigorously.  She began a technique she had taught
herself, which she had never passed along to her friends.  She was able to
move her jaw muscles so that she could vibrate her teeth and lips.  Riker
felt the vibration, and gasped with pleasure.  his knees buckled and Targala
eased him to his knees, and lowered herself as well.  She cocked her head a
little to the side, making it easier for her to continue.  Riker's hands
gripped her shoulders; he drove himself to the back of her throat.

     "I'm coming, Targala."

     Targala did not know what "coming" meant, but she guessed its meaning as
Riker's hot desire turned to liquid and filled her mouth, coursing over her
tongue and teeth.  

     "Take it all, Targala; yes, yes," Riker panted, feeling as if he would
never stop coming.  Targala did not let go or stop the motion of her lips and
tongue.  She took everything he poured into her, then licked him for another
moment, until she was sure he was spent.

     "Targala," he murmured, falling exhausted to the floor and gathering her
in his arms.

     "Yes, Riker?" she smiled.

     "Call me Will, please.  And come back at lunchtime."

          ***       ***       ***

     Wesley Crusher studied himself critically.  His mother walked in.

     "Wesley, you look very handsome," she smiled.  "Is there anyone in
particular you're trying to impress?"

     "No, Mom."

     Wesley, slightly embarrassed, looked closely at his mother.

     "Mom, may I ask you a personal question?"

     "Of course, Wes.  If I don't want to answer it, I won't."

     "Have you ever -- um, -- have you ever had an attraction to a woman?"

     "Yes, Wes; I have," she smiled, thinking how ironic it was that he
should ask her this now.

     "Why, Wes?  Have you met a man who interests you?"

     "I'm not sure," said Wesley.  "I mean, he -- it -- is a hermaphroditic
alien.  He's from the Gallos system.  They have sex only for pleasure; it's
a favorite pastime.  They procreate alone.  A group of people who choose to
do so live together and share the responsibility for raising the children of
those who live in their *tachda*.  That's the name of their home, their
family."

     "So, you're not sure that qualifies as being attracted to a male?"

     "Right.  He sounds like a male, you know, his voice sounds like a human
male.  He has the equivalent of a penis and a vagina, though he can change
the size of each."

     "How pleasurably convenient," said Beverly.

     "Mom!" Wesley said, shocked.  He blushed.

     "Well, it sounds like it could be fun.  Besides, taboos about gender
have been dead for awhile in our species, Wes."

     "Yeah, but you remember you told me how uncomfortable you felt when
Oden's host went from being male to female?"

     "That was my hang-up, not society's, Wes."

     "So, when were you attracted to a woman?  Did you have a --
relationship?"

     "I'm having a same-sex relationship right now."

     "Really?"

     "With Counselor Troi."

          ***       ***       ***

     Geordi was tired and irritable.  He had briefly surveyed the female
civilians as they were transported aboard the night before; he had made it
his business to introduce himself to the ones he found attractive at the
welcoming dinner last night.  Not a single one had looked twice.  He sipped
at his juice, uninterested.

     "Hello," a woman's voice brought him out of his brooding stupor.

     "Hi."

     This must be one of the Ferengi females who had shown up on the bridge
yesterday.  Ensign Trinn had given him a lively account of the previous day's
excitement.  Geordi had never seen a Ferengi female.  He decided she wasn't
unpleasant to behold.

     "My name is Clagara," she said smiling.  Geordi noticed that three other
Ferengi women stood a little behind her.  Hope leaped inside him.

     "Please join me, all of you," he smiled graciously, indicating the
chairs closest to him.

     "Thank you.  Geordi, right?"

     "Yes, that's right.  How did you know me?"

     "We asked who you were," said Lisaga quickly.  She was sitting
immediately across from him.

     "You asked about me?  Why is that?" he smiled, hoping he was flirting
successfully.  At the back of his mind, he found himself wondering at the
confidence with which these women had approached him.  He had always assumed
Ferengi women would be quiet and unassuming because of their second-class
status on their worlds.

     "So, I bet you haven't seen many Ferengi females on this ship,"said
Clagara.

     "No, not until this morning, as a matter of fact," Geordi said.  "I must
say it is a very pleasant sight."

     "Thank you, Geordi," she smiled at him.  "May I ask you something?"

     "Sure.  You want to know what the visor is for, right?"

     "Yes; is it natural or synthetic?"

     "It's a medical miracle," said Geordi.  "I was born blind; this visor
enables me to see.  Better than all humanoids, I believe.  Probably better
than most known aliens."

     "Can you see what we look like beneath our clothing?" asked Lisaga,
leaning towards him conspiratorially and placing her hand on his hand.

     Geordi swallowed, trying to meet her steady gaze.

     "Yes, I can -- if I look."

     "Look," she smiled, crossing her arms over her chest to accentuate her
small breasts.  They all had the same breast size, it seemed.  Their breasts
also appeared to be of equal size, whereas human women had one breast that
was a little larger than the other.

     Geordi knew he had been invited to survey his table companions, but he
felt odd doing so in the crowded room.

     "Why don't we -- go back to my quarters?" he suggested.  Then, with a
start, he said, "I can't.  I have to go on duty in twenty minutes."

     "We can have you all ready for work in twenty minutes," said Lisaga. 
"We can work at your pace."

     Geordi willed his erection away.  His skin tingled with the idea of four
female bodies working on him.

     "I've got a much more pleasant idea," he said, his voice sounding
unnatural to him.  "How about meeting me in my quarters -- no, meet me on the
holo-deck at 18:30.  I'll notify you which one.  Where are your quarters?"

     "Have dinner with us first, Geordi," offered Clagara.  "18:00.  You will
need your energy."

     Geordi could do nothing but nod and smile.

     On his way to Engineering, Geordi made a quick detour to his quarters to
take care of his aching cock before reporting for duty.

          ***       ***       ***

     "Hi, Wes," said Junisto, Wes's Gallosian friend.  "What are you planning
to do this morning?  Up for some holo-deck games?"

     "I was, actually," Wesley began, blushing.  "i, uh, talked to my -- I
mean, oh, let me start over, okay?"

     "Sure, Wes," Junisto smiled.  "What's the matter?  You seem really nervous."

     Wesley studied Junisto for the hundredth time.  He was about six inches
taller than Wes.  (Why did he insist on thinking of Junisto as a male?) 
Junisto's eyes were a beautiful violet color, like nothing Wes had ever seen
before.  Junisto's skin was a chocolate brown, silky to the touch.  His nose
was small.  His teeth were smooth, not pointed.  Gallosians ate food that was
always some form of mush, as far as Wesley was concerned.  Junisto had no
body hair that Wes was aware of, but he was aware of the bulge at Junisto's
left side, where his *simka* rested.  Junisto had once displayed his ability
to lengthen the *simka* from six to eleven inches.  He had shown Wes his
*talum*, a cavity just under his left arm.  When Junisto desired a child, all
that needed doing was for the *simka* to be placed inside the *talum* for the
night.  During that time, Junisto would be in a type of trance-like state,
which could not be disturbed for the safety of the growing child.  It was
necessary to be resting and calm.  The Gallosians looked upon sex as play. 
There were no unplanned pregnancies; placing one's *simka* into another's
*talum* or allowing the reverse could not result in the development of a
child.  

     "I'm just going to come out and say it, Juni," said Wes, swallowing
hard.  "I want to -- make love to you."

     "Make love?  Oh, yes; you told me about that.  As an expression of
caring and affection, humans have sex.  I care about you very much, Wes, but
please recall that I do not take the act seriously, though I enjoy it very
much.  It has no emotional meaning for Gallosians."

     "I understand.  I want you, Junisto.  I find you -- attractive."

     "Why are you so embarrassed, Wes?"

     "I don't know.  I guess because I haven't -- I'm a virgin.  Except for
lovers on the holo-deck.  All human.  Male and female, but all human."

     "Well, we're both virgins in that sense of the word.  Neither of us has
had sex with a human before."

     "You haven't?" Wes asked, surprised.

     "No, Wes.  I've had plenty of experience, but only with fellow
Gallosians."

     Wesley did not want to waste time considering what he was doing.  He
stripped and walked over to Junisto and began to undress him -- it.

     When they stood naked, Wesley's eyes rested immediately on the
Gallosians's *simka* which had thickened with Junisto's sexual desire. 
Wesley reached for it and lifted it and uncurled it gently.  He knew that the
*simka* was just as sensitive, if not more so, than the human penis.  As
Wesley touched it, Junisto lengthened it to nine inches, giving Wesley the
impression of a lengthening erection.  Wes smiled at Junisto's desire to make
this as "human" an experience as possible.

     Junisto carried Wesley to his bunk.  Wes activated privacy codes for the
door; he had mentioned his intention to invite junisto over this morning, and
his mother said she had plenty to keep her busy in sickbay, and that she
would notify him if she were planning to stop by.

     Junisto knew that kissing was a common expression of love and desire
among humans.  He had practiced it with humans on the holo-deck and knew what
to do.  He kissed Wesley deeply.  Wesley was aroused immediately, and
returned the kisses.  He explored Junisto's mouth hungrily, pressing his body
against Junisto's, feeling the hard *simka* against his stomach and abdomen. 
He wrapped his hand around it and began caressing.  Junisto began making
noises which were clearly sounds of pleasure.  Wesley panted with excitement,
sweat breaking out all over his body.  His erection pressed against Junisto;
he felt the taut excitement in his balls.  He knew he should wait, should
linger over these moments, but he couldn't.  He thrust himself into Junisto's
*talum* feeling it give readily to his penis.  He thrust himself into
Junisto, his heart pounding.  He felt a rush of exquisite sensation in his
stomach and drove himself faster inside Junisto.  

	"Can you tighten yourself around me, Juni?" he asked.

     "Yes," said Junisto, and Wesley roared with frustration and delight as
he came inside his friend.
     
"Don't worry, Wes," said Junisto.  "I still haven't been inside you.  By the
time I'm done, you'll be all ready to try again."

     Junisto pulled himself from beneath Wesley and took Wesley's wet, still-
hard penis in his mouth.  The feel of the smooth rounded teeth and the warm,
slightly rough tongue sent a thrill through Wesley.  It was unlike anything
on the holo-deck and did not even come close to his fantasies.  He moaned and
grabbed Junisto's head firmly.  Junisto worked his lips and teeth all over
Wesley's penis.  He reached around and slid all of his fingers -- four of
them -- into Wesley's anus.  Wesley stiffened briefly.

     "Relax; it'll hurt if you do that," Junisto said softly.  "Just relax. 
It'll feel great; trust me."

     Wesley felt his penis grow hot, his skin was prickly with heightened
sensation.  Junisto emptied some sort of natural lubricant inside Wesley's
anus, then spread his buttocks with one hand.  Wesley's breath came in short
gasps.  He was slightly afraid, but wanted this more than he had ever wanted
anything.  He had wanted Junisto for so long; they had never done anything
about their mutual attraction at Starfleet.  Now, that they had chanced to
run into one another at Starbase 152, Wesley was not going to let first-time
jitters ruin this moment.

     "Are you ready, Wes?  Remember, stay relaxed."

     "Fuck me, Juni," Wesley said.  "Please.  Now."

     Junisto was momentarily confused, decided that "fuck" was an archaic
slang word for the human sex act and drove his *simka* inside Wesley.  Wesley
shivered with the feel of Junisto riding him; his senses rang with the idea
of the two of them so close, giving one another such pleasure.  He gasped as
Junisto rode him moment after moment; there seemed no end to the incline
toward climax Wesley was experiencing.  He felt as though every second were
the last, that he would come too fast again and lose the excitement of this
wonderful act of sharing.  He heard Junisto's cries of delight, felt the
alien's smooth teeth digging into his neck.Junisto grabbed Wesley's
shoulders, and threw himself again and again deep inside the trembling,
moaning human.  

     "I've got a surprise for you, Wesley," Junisto whispered.  Wesley felt
Junisto's mouth suddenly close around his penis.  Wesley realized suddenly
that he was on his right side, Junisto was still riding him, but somehow, his
body was curled around and down so that his head lay between Wesley's thighs,
stroking Wesley furiously with his mouth.  Wesley hadn't known Gallosians
were skilled contortionists, but he didn't mind finding out.  Suddenly, he
felt as if his penis were being penetrated by small fangs -- it felt like
suction.  It was somewhat painful, but as Wesley calmed himself, he again
felt himself hovering on the brink of climax.  Apparently, Junisto had
activated something inside his mouth and was using it to manipulate Wes's
penis.  Junisto took Wesley's penis all the way into his mouth, including his
testicles, and closed his mouth around all of him, applying the suction,
while sending his tongue all around the shaft.  Wesley felt Junisto's tongue
curl around him, covering about half of him; it wrapped around him,
encircling him in its wet, spongy warmth.  Junisto sent his tongue into
spasms, squeezing tight around Wesley, then releasing.  Wes never knew when
the next squeeze would come.  He bit the blanket below him, trying to keep
his loud enjoyment to a level which would not attract attention.  Then, he
felt the rush of release as he came inside Junisto's mouth.  He came and
came; there seemed no end to his climax.  His body shook with pleasure and
relief.  Finally, he collapsed, exhausted, onto the mattress, his breath
coming in short, ragged gasps.

     "So," said Junisto, still full of energy.  "How was that for your first
time, Wes?"

          ***       ***       ***

     Geordi had been in pain all day.  His head was filled with the four
Ferengi women, their sweet scent in his nostrils.  He couldn't wait for
dinner -- actually, he wasn't at all hungry; he just wanted to get them all
back to his quarters.  Finally, he was going to get some.  Given the time he
had waited, he mused, four women at the same time should just about make up
for it.

          End of Part VII (to be continued)

OH, CAPTAIN, MY CAPTAIN!  (Pt. VIII)
          Copyright 1994 by Christine Faltz, cmfaltz@panix.com



     "Commander Riker to Captain Picard."

     "Go ahead, Commander."

     "Ambassador Slaag of the Ferengi --"

     "I'll be right there, Number One."

          ***       ***       ***

     "Well, Geordi, we told you to eat; you will need your energy," teased
Clagara. 

     "By the way, this is Targala; she wasn't with us earlier."

     "Hello, Targala," said Geordi.  He was already struggling with an
erection.  He was terrified that he would come before anything happened, like
a damn virgin leafing through an ancient girlie magazine.

     "Don't worry too much, Geordi," said Targala, smiling.

     "We have hit upon a solution.  You will not need that much energy after
all.  We've been experimenting with the holo-deck, and we have a very special
night planned for you."

     "I'm counting on that," Geordi declared, trying to put bravado in his
voice.  He wasn't sure he had succeeded.

     "A question, Geordi," said Targala.  "May we remove your visor?"

     "Yes; I'm completely comfortable in the dark in familiar surroundings. 
But I must tell you that it is an ancient stereotype which ascribes
extrasensory compensations to blind people; the belief that such powers are
inherent in those who are blind is false.  At least for humans.  While some
blind people may find it worthwhile to