Reunion

       “Thank you, that will be satisfactory.” Consul T'lur bowed to the dark-skinned Human man that had piloted the flitter. He nodded and drove off.
       Her business had brought her to the sprawling El Nanth Starbase complex. Lieutenant Skall would not be pleased by the news she brought, but even unpleasant duty must be fulfilled. Once again she found herself in a Starfleet facility, the uniforms had changed, but the faces had not. She turned to ask the being at the information booth the way to the personnel office. In doing so she turned to face the dock windows for the first time.
       Gleaming, perfect in every detail, the vessel sat at her dock. T'lur felt her control slip as she fought to maintain an outer calm, astonishment threatened to overwhelm her. How could it be? That which one witnessed must be accepted as real, but so long after she had been decommissioned, how could she be here?
       The Kongo sat somnolent at her dock and did not answer the unspoken questions of her former Captain.

~~~

       Captain's Log, 2525.64 USS Kongo, T'lur commanding. We have been diverted from our mission to deliver the Corolius archaeological team by a distress call in our sector. The trader Punch's Luck has reported being trailed by a possible pirate. We are making all due haste in pursuing the matter. End Log.
       Captain T'lur looked at the screen in her ready room. It echoed what was shown on the main viewscreen. The Kongo still bored her way thought space and the sensors showed nothing to rescue yet.
       T'lur was not allowing her self to hope for anything, that would be illogical. However Starfleet could not consider the matter very serious if the ancient Kongo was sent on such a mission. In the eight years she had commanded the once front line cruiser turned science ship they had never dealt with anything more threatening that disaster relief. In eight years Kongo had never fired her weapons in anger. It was a record that T'lur wished to keep intact.

---

       T'gen leaned over looking at the sensor screen again. The trader was moving just as quickly as they could, and that would not last. She knew that class, they were just short of melting their engines. Something she did not want. A ship was worth more than its cargo.
       She felt one of the crew more close behind her. Much closer than she usually allowed. Close enough to feel his eager manhood across her backside. She straighted up.
       “Reaper, you are a bad boy.”
       The Green Orion growled in her ear. “Only because you like them that way.”
       She allowed him a quick smile and a flash of bedroom eyes. “Not on the bridge, it's distracting.”
       He flashed his perfect smile. “I wouldn't want to distract the Captain ... on the bridge.”
       She playfully pushed him away, to little effect. “We have work to do. Is the assault team ready?”
       “And eager.”
       “Good, we will be closing shortly.” She grabbed his crotch much to his sudden surprise. “Don't lose anything I'll need later.”
       Reaper swaggered off the bridge to rejoin the assault team.
       Go'targ averted is disapproving gaze and grumbled. “Captain, they are starting to waver.”
       She leaned over the helm station giving the prudish Klingon a good look at her cleavage. She read the display. “Good, it won't be much longer then. Let's keep this as clean and bloodless as possible.”
       “What glory is there is that?”
       “Go'targ, there is no glory in over running hapless traders. But there is no profit in dead slaves or damaged prizes. Profit is what we are after. Find your glory in port.”

---

       T'lur came onto the bridge. “Mr. Apo. What is the situation?”
       “I am reading two ships. Punch's Luck is still evading the bogy.”
       “Does it have an IFF?”
       “Yes, the SS Vagabond. It's a false one of course. The ship in question is no where near here, an the registry indicates it's a bulk carrier.”
       “ETA?”
       “Three hours.”
       “We will not be in time.”
       “I doubt it.”
       “We are already at maximum warp. We will have to do what we can.”

---

       “Captain.” Go'targ barked. “I have another ship on the sensors.”
       “Who and what?”
       “Constitution class heavy cruiser.”
       T'gen's eyebrows climbed her forehead. “A Constitution? Did it escape from the old ship's home?”
       Rachel her engineer gave her a sour look. “Begging the Captain's pardon, but a Connie has more than enough power to spank us with its cane, and spank us good. I doubt we can out run it either.”
       “Which of the dowager queens are we dealing with?”
       “USS Kongo. Go'targ worked is board. “Captain T'lur commanding.”
       “Oh really!” exclaimed T'gen. “She shoved her breasts into the Klingon's line of sight again. “This is rich, too rich.” She quickly paged through the file.
       “I fail to see how that helps us, Captain.” growled Go'targ.
       She bounced up. “She's an old school chum.”
       “You went to school.” Rachel delivered flatly. “And had 'chums'?”
       “Of course I went to school, All Vulcan children go to school. I got better. As to 'chum' I doubt she would express it that way. However: “She assumed a proper Vulcan posture. “This gives us certain advantages of knowledge of foresight. I know how she will react. Go'targ, move to maximum warp. Prepare to fire, we need hostages. We are not getting the ship this time. We will be lucky to get out with ourselves.”

---

       “The 'Vagabond' is closing with Punch's Luck, they are firing.”
       T'lur sat stiffly in the center seat. “Can we get any more speed Mr Atrius.”
       The tall Kentauri shook his head. “Not without damage to the engines Sir.”
       “Go to red alert.”

---

       Reaper brought the Captain of Punch's Luck and his mate to the wardroom of the Wild Cassidy. He was still in his armor. “The rest are in the cells Captain.”
       “Good, and kids?”
       Yes Captain, we have a few.” Reaper looked puzzled.
       “Bring up a couple of them. They are going to get to see the show.”
       “We are having a show?”
       T'gen toyed with the hilt of her knife. “A show for our lives Reaper, so we better make it good.”

---

       T'lur watched the distance close between the Kongo and the two vessels. The pirate was making no attempt to get away. They either had given up already, or were confident about a fight.
       “Open hailing frequencies Mr Longran.”
       “Hailing Frequencies open, sir.”
       “This is Captain T'lur of the USS Kongo to unknown vessel. You are ordered to stand down and make fast all weapons.”
       The screen clear to a view of the pirate bridge. It took all of T'lur's control to not gape at the woman in the low cut blouse.
       “Or what T'lur. Any firing on my ship will result in the unfortunate death of these sweet little ones. We have more down below visiting the engine room as well.”
       “T'gen, I see you have come to the predicted unpleasant end.”
       T'gen laughed.  “I don't see this as unpleasant at all. I'm rather enjoying myself.”
       T'lur's voice slipped into a chiding tone. “Have you no shame?”
       “In fact my old school chum, I don't. And I find it liberating. You should try it some time. Pleasantries aside, why don't we get down to business. I'm going to offer you a peaceful resolution of this matter.”
       “You are.”
       “Indeed, I see no reason to be uncivilized about this. You want these people safe. I want myself and my crew safe.”
       “I have no intention of doing harm, unless my hand is forced T'gen.”
       “Good we want the same thing. I'll offer you a deal. “You let us leave, and I will drop these people off at the first neutral world.”
       “And if I don't?”
       “Then we have a nice raging ship to ship battle, and they likely die.”
       “You will likely die as well T'gen.”
       “But you lose if you destroy me. They lose, you lose, everyone loses. Indeed to fight is to condemn all.”
       T'lur could see the logic in this. A battle would result in the death of the pirates, but also the death of the civilians. Was it better to let the pirates go, and secure the safety of the civilians? “I have your word that this will be so?”
       T'gen bowed. “You have my word.”
       T'lur griped the arms of the command chair. “Then get out of here.”

---

       T'gen lay back savoring the lustful exercise she had been enjoying with her Green lover.
       Reaper stroked her belly. “So now what Capitan, we have the Kongo well astern.”
       “What else Reaper, we sell the slaves.”
       Reaper looked at the Capitan curiously. “You promised her.”
       “Silly boy.” She laughed and rolled off the bed. “I told the bitch I had no shame, and in that I told the truth.”

~~~

       T'lur shook off her fugue. She could feel the color try to rise in her cheeks still. The shame had never really ended. However, she had a duty.

       Duty was quickly disposed of. No, the news was not agreeably received, but it was accepted as one must accept such things. Freed of her primary duty T'lur mused over the appearance of her old ship in such a location. It was not logical to be concerned with such matters, but she was concerned. Her last report of the Kongo had been of its decommissioning, in the Sol system 74 light years from El Nanth.
       T'lur sought around the dock for the hatch to the Kongo. She found it, and found it open. There was only a single Ane in a position of blocking access.
       "Excuse me, but would it be possible to examine this vessel's interior?"
       The Ane looked her over. **May I ask who is asking?**
       "You may." T'lur said nothing more. She expended a great deal of effort keeping the smile off her face."
       The Ane flicked an ear, they both dropped a bit. **Who is asking?**
       "I am Consul T'lur of the Vulcan Diplomatic Service."
       The ears perked back up. **Would you be the same Vulcan T'lur who once commanded the Kongo?**
       T'lur bowed slightly. "That would be correct."
       The Ane got up and moved out of the hatch. **Then you are welcome to tour her now, or whenever it would be agreeable for you to do so.**
       "Thank you that is most agreeable. Are their areas of the ship that are not accessible?"
       **To yourself, no. Enjoy your tour.**
       T'lur passed the guardian Ane, as she was about to pass the threshold of the ship she stopped. "How complete is the restoration?"
       **She is taken out once a month for a little light cruising. Fully functional in all respects.**
       T'lur felt her eyebrow slide up. "Fascinating."
       **Indeed.** The Ane returned to chewing.

       T'lur again hesitated at the threshold. One asks permission to board a vessel. Yet there was no one to ask. Asking permission of the Ane, whom she had just asked permission was not logical. She proceeded. It felt uncomfortable, but it was not logical to feel so. T'lur crossed onto the ship. It looked familiar, but unfamiliar at the same time. She quickly figured it out, the ship was in an older trim. She had viewed logs of the Kongo as a front line starship. This was the look in the 2260s. By the time she took command in 2280 Starfleet had redesigned the corridors and many systems. Again she wondered who had done the restoration, and why return the ship to the look of that period.
       Inside the gangway was an item she clearly recognized as not belonging. A standing kiosk for the Memory One computer system.
       The screen flicked into life and the iconic human woman that was the face of the system spoke. "Welcome The the USS Kongo Consul T'lur. How may I be of assistance."
       "I am seeking information about the history of the Kongo after her decommissioning."
       "In your case I think the answers will be found at frame 7 deck 6."
       T'lur shot up an eyebrow. "History is in the sickbay?"
       "In the case of your questions, yes."
       "Intriguing to say the least."

       T'lur took the turbolift up and walked the short distance to the sickbay. The door slid open as she approached. In the main examination room a humanoid in an ADF engineering coverall had a hatch on the wall open and was half way inside it working on something. She was about to call for his attention when he slid out of the hole in the wall
       T'lur's mouth dropped. It was unseemly, it was a breach of control, but what she was looking at was purely impossible.
       "Admiral LaSaille?!"
       He pulled himself to his feet. "Well, I'm hardly an Admiral anymore T'lur. And going by the Consul's robes, you have found a new profession as well."
       "No sir, I ... Forgive me, I am stunned."
       "How is the Vulcan way of putting it? 'The cause is sufficient'. It's nothing. But you came here for a reason."
       T'lur pulled herself back together. "My reason was private business to a Vulcan citizen."
       Jerry cocked an eyebrow. "I will not pry. However, you are on the Kongo. A personal side trip?"
       "I was curious as to why she was here."
       "I put her here."
       "You did?"
       "Bought her at scrap prices after Starfleet was done with her and have been restoring her since. We finished several years back. She is returned to the trim of her days of glory, at least as I remember them."
       "That would explain the preference for the '60s color scheme."
       "Yes, plain old Human nostalgia. Here, I'm keeping you standing there. Not very hospitable of me. Can I get you some theris-masu? We can relax in the medical office. I doubt the doctor will kick us out."
       "I believe there is sufficient evidence to be sure of that."
       Jerry fiddled with the food slot on the office wall. Shortly thereafter it produced the desired drinks. Tea for him and the theris-masu for T'lur. "I don't miss these old food slots. Replicators are much better."
       "I understand development will shortly have them reduced to residential size."
       "Yes, I'm up on the research. I had a replicator installed in my home."
       "A sizable establishment?"
       "Yes, and twenty minutes from town, at mach 2."
       "I see there could be a need."
       "There has been for a long time, we just didn't have them outside Crystal City."
       T'lur fiddled with her cup. "If I might ask a personal question, why did you restore the Kongo?"
       Jerry leaned back in his chair and thought for a moment. "I've examined that impulse hundreds of times since I put the bid in for the hull. Every time we hit a snag in the rebuilding, even after I had her finished and ready to go. I would have to say it is because my years on the Kongo were some of the happiest and most challenging I've ever had. I had a chance to preserve some of that, so I did."
       "It was necessary to save the whole ship?"
       "No, but it was possible. How many operational Constitution class chips do we have left? I'll answer that for you, one, you're sitting on her. The Republic is nothing but a shell. She can't even get underway.” A momentary regret flickered over Jerry's face. “Kongo is a piece of history I felt needed saving. I was in a position to save her."
       "What do you do with a starship?"
       Jerry grinned. "The monthly press gang."
       T'lur cocked that eyebrow again.
       "An old term for sailors impressed against their will into service, a practice in the less enlightened days on Earth. In our case we take those that sign up once a month for a 48 hour tour on an old fashioned starship. It's popular. We never lack for a crew."
       T'lur's eyes narrowed. “What is the Republic to you?”
       Jerry gave her a wry look. “Caught that did you. Joe Marshall was not her last Skipper, I was.”
       “You are not on the Captain's list.”
       “I wasn't a Captain. I was a Lieutenant Commander and the most senior officer standing. It's in the logs. It wasn't pretty. The Orions broke her back in that last encounter, and Starfleet never did repair her. There where plans for ten years or so, upgrades always a generation behind the tech curve. They finally gave up on her. My first command of a starship was nursing a cripple back to base, and decommissioning her.”
       “Never have you been one to seek glory in war.”
       “There is no glory in war ... but I'm preaching to the choir.”
       T'lur cocked a Vulcan brow at the turn of phrase.
       “Convincing the convinced. A old saying from my youth.”
       T'lur straighted in her seat. “When is the next, 'press gang'?”
       “Three weeks, but you are in luck. Admiral Ghent has asked me to take a load of trainees out for disaster aid practice.”
       “You will do this, in so old a ship?”
       “It keeps her in dilithum and antimatter. She is better off if not idle. Built to serve, the soul of the ship does not rest easy. How        are your skills?”
       “You wish me to come?”
       “I'm usually the engineer. Not enough people understand these old drives. You would be a qualified Master.”
       The smile was sly indeed. “Yes, that would be agreeable.”

        T'lur watched the trainees stream onto the gangway. Catullan Defense Forces out for a week on the old Kongo. Bright and eager faces. They didn't have the look of raw trainees. The last one aboard was their commander. A grizzled Major by his rank markings.
       The Major followed his men at a slightly more sedate pace. “Targen Pell, Catulla Defense Forces.”
       Captain T'lur, of the Ane Confederation Defense Force. Welcome aboard Major.”
       Pell eyed her. “A Vulcan in the ADF?”
       T'lur allowed a half smile. “I serve at their request Major. I am a retired Starfleet Captain, familiar with the class.”
       “Good. I'll see my troopers get settled in.”

        A week's cruise to Endow, a class M planet without any sentient life that Starfleet used for ground training. It was time to be reacquainted with an old friend. Well almost and old friend. One that had taken up the fashions of its youth. T'lur left the bridge in the hands of her Starfleet volunteer crew and wandered the ship.
       Wandering brought her into the officer's lounge. Jerry was there with Aleilan, he was watching out the window, her head on his lap his hand softly caressing an ear. T'lur stopped, it would be unseemly to interrupt them.
       “You're not interrupting T'lur.”
       “Mr. LaSaille, you are reading my mind.” She chided.
       “Fortunately that would impossible without a great deal of intrusion.” Jerry looked over his shoulder. “You are hesitating in the door. Aleilan is how I know it's you. You are the only Vulcan on the ship.”
       She entered the lounge and sat. “Do you let anything surprise you?”
       “Not if I can help it. But I can't always help it.”
       “If I am not intruding, what do you do with yourself? You were in Starfleet when I first was commissioned, and you were there well after I departed. It seems that you would be in Starfleet forever.”
       “Change is the only constant T'lur. While Starfleet has been a generally good part of my life, it has not been my life. I have moved beyond it to things I needed to do. Things vital to me as a person.”
       “I would not intrude.”
       “In this case, it would be intruding.”
       “I was frankly shocked see you ... alive.”
       “Oh yes, that Human reputation for short lives. There are a few for who it is not the case.”
       “You are El Alurian.”
       “It would almost fit, but I'm not. I am, very old, even by Vulcan standards. And, it still burns.”
       T'lur colored slightly, her control came down hard. “What cannot be changed, must be endured. Why do you mention this.”
       Jerry's voice dropped softly. “Because it did slip your control T'lur. You have no closure in this matter.”
       A shudder ran through the Vulcan woman then calm settled over her. “No, I do not. It is a failing.”
       “Vulcans are only people. I never have believed them to be made of granite.”
       “I disgraced the ship, my crew, and I did the civilians no favors. I considered my resignation the least I could do. Seeing the Kongo, brought these old matters forward into my mind.”
       “People have made bigger blunders and managed to recover.”
       “We each deal as we can. I was surprised you wanted me on the ship. Your reprimand was ... scathing.”
       Jerry shrugged. “That was then, this is now. I am not an Admiral with a fleet to run. I didn't ask for your resignation.”
       “No, that was my decision. I believe it an appropriate one.”
       “Your current profession looks to agree with you.”
       “Enough that I continue in it.”
       “Only a counsel?”
       She let a sly smile slip. “I had a family to raise first. I am a rather junior member of the diplomatic corp.“
       “I do not mean to pry.”
       “You have not. When you do I will be sure to tell you.”

        The Trainees crawled over the fake disaster area maintained for this purpose. T'lur watched from a nearby hill. It was like old times. Her communicator churped.
        “T'lur here.”
        “LaSaille spoke through the comminucator.  "Captain, we have a ... situation. Could you come aboard please.”
        “Bean me up then Mr. LaSaille.”

        Jerry himself was at the transporter controls.
        T'lur stepped down from the platform. “What is the situation?”
        “We just received a distress call. Pirates attacking a merchantman.”
        “Will El Nanth not handle it?”
        “We are two hours out. They are two days, minimum. How confident do you feel in the Catullan Trainees?”
        T'lur cocked her head. “It is your ship Mr. LaSaille.”
        “She was built to serve. She is fit to serve, the only question is, is the crew ready to serve? It could be a shooting situation.”
        “She is still a capable cruiser, do you think pirates will shoot at her?”
        “They have in the past, and she looks old.”
        T'lur walked to the intercom panel. “Bridge.”
        “Bridge here.”
        “Lieutenant, get ready to sail, recall all crew and trainees. We have real lives to save.”
        “Sir?”
        “At once.  Delay may cost lives..”
        “Yes Sir.”
        She turned to LaSaille. “It is your ship Mr. LaSaille.”
        “Yes it's my ship. However the crew knows you as Captain, and I'm needed in the engineering room, there isn't another engineer on the ship qualified on these drives.”
        “Is this a safe thing to do?”
        “Is it ever?”

        The ADF uniform was unfamiliar, she had a retired full Admiral in the engineering room and a crew of Starfleet volunteers and Catullan trainees. She hit the intership.
        “We have received a distress call. The Kongo is two hours away, the nearest regular unit is two days away, we are answering the call. We don't know what we will find so everyone remain at maximum alert.”
        Major Pell turned to her. “Captain T'lur, my men are trained and ready. Our local defense ships are similar in layout to this. Starfleet a generation back.”
        “Then you are my First officer Mr. Pell. Assign your men according to their training.”
        “Aye aye Sir.” Pell sat at the XO station and started making calls.
        The Turbolift opened to admit LaSaille, now in an unranked ADF uniform.
        T'lur turned to face the Engineering station. “Is the ship ready Mr. LaSaille?”
        “As ready as she has ever been Captain. All modes at your discretion.”
        “Move out, warp factor 8.”
        The Kongo rumbled beneath their feet ramping up her power to move at the requested speed.

----

        Captian T'gen stood at the back of her bridge. Her First Mate spoke in low but urgent tones.
        “Sir, Mr. Millex is not going to take this load, not after you skipped out on him the last time. We will be lucky if we don't get shot at.”
        T'gen laughed. “Mr. Bark, you worry too much. Millex knows where the money is and that is his only loyalty. “This is a good load. An intact ship and 30 prime slaves. He will not only not shoot at us, he'll pay the top prices.”
        Bark shook his head. “I don't know, chasing after us with that attack....”
        “Captain T'gen, we have a ship on the senors.”
        T'gen and Bark shifted their attention immediately. “What ship would that be?” T'gen moved into the main pit of the bridge.
        “It is identified as the ADF Kongo.”
        She frowned, tapping the tactical display. “The Ane don't have a ship named Kongo.”
        “Sir, that is what the IFF reads. I do not vouch for it's correctness.”
        Her Mate twisted his fingers through his beard. “The ADF. Cows with guns?”
        T'gen furrowed her brow. “Make no mistake Mr Bark. The ADF fields dangerous ships. But there isn't one named Kongo.”
        The crewman at the computer station spoke. “Begging the Captain's pardon, but there is. It's the old USS Kongo., Constitution class heavy cruiser. She is a museum ship.”
        T'gen came over to look at the record herself. “A museum ship? A relic? What are they thinking?”
        Bark looked over her shoulder. “Old, but if they are fully armed, still dangerous. This cutter is no match for that kind of firepower. We could run.”
        “Risky. She is coming in at warp 8 now. I don't know if we could outlast her at that game. We will have to trade our victims for an escape.”

---

       T'lur was watching the tactical plot. She glanced at LaSaille. “You didn't downgrade everything.”
        “Only where you can see it. I upgraded everything I could. She's at least the match of any Miranda class ship in the fleet, without the pulse phasers.”
        “That is good. Sensors, report.”
        The Catullan at the science station was prompt. “We have two vessels. An Orion cutter, and a beluga class freighter., IFF as the SS Blushing Bride. They are still in hard contact.”
        “Curious, she isn't running.”
        “Yes.” LaSaille pondered the situation. “She considers herself outclassed, and is looking for a hostage situation.”
        T'lur nodded. “Logical. It is not a wise tactic, but it is logical. Red alert, arm phasers and photon torpedoes. We do have torpedoes?”
        Jerry smiled. “We have real torpedoes. Not a full load, be we have them.”

---

       The crew of the Prey Seeker watched their tactical plot. “She has armed weapons.” reported Sensors.
        “To be expected.” Replied Tgen. “We of course are ready.”
        “Yes sir.” Bark answered. “But we have no hope of winning such a fight.”
        “That Mr. Bark is why I don't plan on fighting one. Bring the civilians onto the bridge.”

---

       T'lur prepared herself and her ship for what must be done. “Target her engines, one torpedo, followed by phasers as required. Mr Pell, do you have good fighters among you people.”
        “We do sir.”
        “Get them into transporter room 3 and 4. Arm them. Transport in the second her shields are down. Stun anything that moves. You have five minutes.”
        “Aye aye Sir.” Pell double timed to the turbolift and was gone.
        T'lur calmed herself, she sneaked a look at LaSaille, he sat like a rock. She waited the five minutes. “Open hail.”
        “Aye sir.”
        “This is Captain T'lur of the ADF Kongo to unknown vessel. You have this one chance to surrender and suffer no harm.”

---

       T'gen's eyebrows shot into her hairline. “T'lur? I thought she retired years ago. Our chances just became much better.”
        Bark looked dubious. “I fail to see your point.”
        “Oh she is a most Vulcan Vulcan. Born to peace and all that nonsense. Known for hesitating to fire the weapons. Return the hail.”
        “Hail open sir.”
        “T'gen sauntered to the middle of her small bridge, standing right over the small knot of human children. “Well, well, well. Captain T'lur, we meet again.”
        The woman in the center seat was impassive. “Coincidence can be that way T'gen. I see you have not changed your ways.”
        T'gen bowed. “They have continued to serve me well. You also it seems, same old tub you had the last time we crossed paths. Some things never change it seems.”
        “As you wish it. Surrender now.”
        T'gen spread her hands to show the children at her feet. “Then you condemn these to the same fate. Fire on me and you kill the innocents as well. Let me go, and I'll drop them off some place safe.”
        A light on the Kongo's weapons panel glowed.
        T'lur looked levelly at the other woman on the screen. “Fire.”
        T'gen's shock was complete. The Prey Seeker jumped as the torpedo smashed home. The collapse of her shields was followed by well aimed and executed phaser beams.
        The kids screamed and dived for what cover they could find. T'gen shouted orders that were little understood because of the screaming kids. One of her men tripped over them trying to follow her orders that were heard.
        The turbolift doors flew open and a hail of phaser fire erupted from them.

---

       T'lur watched the scenes unfold, Vulcan impassivity written on her features.
        On the pirate ship the Catullans finished mopping up the pirates and got the kids aside and quite. Their sergeant noticed the communications link was still open.
        “Bridge secured Captain.”
        “Well done, Sergeant.” She pressed the switch on the intercom. Transporter, we have civilians to remove, 7 to beam from the pirate bridge.”
        Her comm officer reported. “All teams are reporting the ship secure.”
        “Good. Remove the prisoners at once. See to any civilian casualties first.”

----

       It took two of the Catullan troopers to hold the pirate Captain up. She stopped struggling when she saw who was in front of her.
        T'gen tried to look confident in her torn blouse. “So, T'lur, you win ... this time.”
        “No T'gen, I win. This is an ADF vessel, not Starfleet. Ane Confederation law applies. You must deal with the Ane Truthtellers, the Ane laws. They are simple, direct, and call for the death of those that murder.”
        Frank shock covered T'gen's face. “And you would allow this?”
        T'lur remained impassive. “It is not my decision to make. I serve with the owner's permission. I have no commission here.” She folded her hands. “I am T'lur, Counsel for Vulcan, out playing at being a Captain for a week. When we reach port, you must deal with Mr. LaSaille and the Ane.”
        “You fired, no talk, no negotiation. Why?”
       “'Failure is an opportunity for growth.' --The Analects of Surak. You would have been better served to listen to your lessons, not rebel against them. Take her away.”

---

       Jerry sat in the Kongo's executive conference room right off the ready room. T'lur sipped her theris-masu.
        “Failure is an opportunity for growth. A curious answer T'lur. Would you care to explain it?”
        “You are aware of the circumstances, my report was complete.” replied T'lur blandly.
        “So this time you fired.”
        “The lesson learned. Her fault was in thinking I would not learn.”
        “There is a Human saying as well. 'You can tell more about what a person will do by what they expect from others than by what they will claim to do themselves.' I believe it also fits.”
        “T'gen failed to learn, and so assumed others would not as well.”
        “A common flaw. Why did you tell her that it would be Ane law she would be tried under?”
        “Because that is the truth. I am a diplomat, knowing law is my business. An ADF vessel is under Ane Confederation law.”
        “It is a Starfleet mission, they will doubtless argue for jurisdiction. We never fight that fight. We are not nearly as bloodthirsty as some people think we are.”
        “Yes, I am aware, but she I do not believe is so aware.” A sly smile slipped around the corners of her cup. “It will give her something to think about on the voyage back.”

       Jerry hung back as the Catullan troopers disembarked. Starfleet was parking the Prey Seeker and the Blushing Bride as evidence for the upcoming trial. Yea, the tow ship had passed them coming back. The old girl was not up to current standards of speed. As they did T'lur came down to the gangway back in her usual dress.
        “Captian T'lur. I must thank you from coming out with us.”
        T'lur spread her arms rustling the dark robes she wore. “Mr. LaSaille, I have put the captain down in favor of my more usual profession.”
        “Yes, I see. There is still the trial.”
        “Indeed, I must remain for that, but afterward I will return to my usual duties. However, it was satisfying to serve the Kongo one more time.”
        LaSaille gave the old hull a pat. “I think I can speak truly to say that she was pleased to be so served once again.”

Reunion – Garry Stahl, October, 2008

       A kind of Jerry story, more of an old Kongo story with her Fourth Captain as star. Jerry is on the sidelines to comment. The first part of this has been around as a drabble for some time. Jay suggested I develop it around T'lur and her conflict. Trouble is I didn't have a conflict. It sat in the shush pile for years. This summer it jelled.
        These things seem to come in waves. Here is to the wave waving further.