A huge thanks to the Mad Hatter for that awesome and brilliant review! I'm quite impressed, I must say! And of course thank you to 0afan0, BewilderedFemale, and "A reader" for your reviews.

Taurik was nearly finished meditating the following morning when he heard Marianne in her cabin on the other side of the wall, singing.

Près des remparts de Séville
Chez mon ami Lillas Pastia,
J'irai danser la seguedille
Et boire du Manzanilla,

J'irai chez mon ami Lillas Pastia.

From Carmen, by Georges Bizet, he thought. Marianne certainly had a pleasant voice. And she is well aware of that fact, he expected. There was a knock at the door. "Taurik, are you up yet?" Johnny demanded. Judging from the tone of his voice, his confrere had not eaten yet.

Without answering, Taurik opened the door. Johnny started. "Oh! Good," he said. "Let's get 'Carmencita' and go." He tapped on her door. "Marianne? C'mon, you can dance and drink manzanilla on the way to the site!"

"Just a minute," she called from inside. It was more than a single minute. After four minutes and twenty-two seconds, she appeared finally, looking as radiant as ever. She was dressed in loose robes, as many of the other women in Egypt that Taurik had seen. A wise precaution for her, considering the climate, thought the Vulcan.

"Good morning, Cadet," Marianne greeted him sweetly.

"Good morning, Miss Broussard," the Vulcan said. He decided that he would follow the Southern custom and start addressing her as "miss" rather than "ms."

The three had a brief, light breakfast—to Johnny's vocalized dismay—and disembarked for the market to obtain their supplies. They would have to camp, as there were no lodgings near the dig site. Because there was no road to the location, either, camels would be required for travel. Interesting creatures, Taurik contemplated the animals.

As it was just past five in the morning, there were not many people about. The vendors were beginning to set out their wares. Fortunately, enough of the merchants had arrived to enable them to obtain the necessary provisions and dromedaries. The thought of riding one of those beasts did not entirely appeal to Taurik, but there appeared to be no other alternative. Starfleet, as well as the rest of Earth, had no interest whatsoever in developing this primitive corner of the planet. As a result, travel was slow. That is probably why Hamunaptra has not been re-discovered sooner, assuming it exists, he thought.

While John got the supplies, Marianne met with the diggers. Nineteen men had been persuaded to join the crew. All was nearly ready.

"Let's get a snack for the road," Johnny insisted. He turned, and nearly bumped into a young Egyptian woman.

"You are seeking Hamunaptra," she said, folding her arms. It was not a question.

"Yeah, so? What's it to you?"

"I am Qismah, daughter of our leader, Saleh ibn Ardeth Bay," she said with dignity that smacked of some kind of noble prophetess. Though most of her features were hidden, it was obvious that she was comely lady.

"Ok, nice to meet you." Johnny's patience was nearly spent. "What can I do for you?"

Qismah glanced around at the three of them. "There is a prophecy among the Medjai: the victim of the Hom Dai will arise for the third time at the whim of one who is not of this world," she glared at Taurik, who frowned back at her disapprovingly. "And, as has always been the case, it will be by the hand of a woman," she said as she pointed to Marianne.

"Look lady," Johnny butted in—nothing was going to get between him and his vittles, "we're not planning to raise the dead. We're on an expedition for knowledge, for history."

Qismah blinked at him for a moment. "You all have been warned," she announced finally, "and we, the Medjai, are watching you."

"What a fanatic!" Johnny said, waving a hand after her as she rode away on her horse.

"She appears to be attracted to you, Johnny," Taurik commented, taking a page from Sam Lavelle.

John narrowed his eyes at the Vulcan, but said nothing. Instead, he made his way in the direction of the snack vendor.

Marianne giggled, "Mr. Taurik, for shame."

The Vulcan's brow went up. "Indeed," he responded, holding his hands behind him, his face completely passive. He gestured for her to go first, and they followed John to the street food cart.

Before long, they were off, headed westward into the barren wilderness. Taurik rapidly became acquainted with his camel and the necessary commands. "Her name is Khadijah," the herder had told him. She was a most agreeable animal, and readily obeyed his wishes.

At precisely 05:58 hours, Taurik noted, the sun rose. The features of the desert around them, though sparse, were bathed in brilliant light. Marianne joyfully began to sing again.

Wake from your sleep, all you weary ones

Who are weary of the night

Look to the east, all you dreary ones,

Who are waiting for the light

Dawn is breaking and a new day is born,

The world is singing the song of the dawn

Birds are waking to welcome the dawn

Birds are singing the song of the dawn

"If the sunrise moves you to that extent, perhaps that is what you should write about," Taurik suggested, guiding his camel closer to hers.

Marianne flashed a gorgeous smile at him, and he willed his heartbeat to slow back to its normal rate. "Ok," she considered, "that's a good idea." She took a deep breath. "Oh, Taurik, I'm so excited!"

"That is apparent."

"I have dreamed about finding Hamunaptra ever since I was a little girl, and now I'm finally going to do it!"

"You do not know that for certain," he cautioned. "Enthusiasm should always be moderated with reason, Miss Broussard. Otherwise, you are setting yourself up for an emotional downfall. I would not wish to see such an event transpire."

Marianne frowned. "You are right, of course, Mr. Taurik," she admitted reluctantly. "But I have a wild heart, and it cannot be broken."

"Being broken is not the same as being disciplined," he countered coolly. "Perhaps some day you will learn that." He urged his camel forward, ending the conversation, and leaving her behind to ponder his words.

Marianne was mostly silent for the rest of the day, absorbed in the study of her notes. She was not pleased by what had been said to her, but she seemed to take it seriously. Taurik wondered if he had been too hard on her. She was human, after all. It was true that she was excessively passionate, even for a human. But she also had an inventive and sharp mind, which was quite capable of logical thought, as demonstrated by her academic achievements.

Once again Taurik found himself often glancing over at Marianne. And once again, she did not notice him. She hardly looked up from her PADD the entire day, even during the breaks. Taurik sighed to himself. He sincerely hoped he had not irreparably damaged their budding friendship.

The body arrived at the location that evening. To everyone's astonishment, there were already other people digging at the very spot. John and Marianne exchanged furious looks, and kicked their camels into a swift gallop. Taurik remained calm, though he encouraged his camel to quicken her pace. He was quite curious to see how this encounter would play out.

"Let me handle this, Marianne," said Johnny when they reached the scene. She shook her head in repugnance, but proceeded no further. Taurik dismounted, and discreetly put himself between Marianne and the impending action. He braced himself for whatever Johnny was going to drag them all into. He was able to quickly identify the leader, who was standing at the top of a sand dune, overseeing the work. No one had heeded their approach.

Johnny boldly walked up to the boss. The man was dressed in Bedouin robes, which were blowing in the gentle evening breeze. As Johnny ascended the dune, the man perceived him and rotated suddenly. His face was covered with his keffiyah, and he did not bother to pull it down when he saw the caller.

"Ok, buddy," John addressed him forcefully, "just what the hell are you doing here? This is our dig site!"

"I have permission to be here," the stranger placidly held up a PADD, "Do you?"

"Duh!" he raised his hands in the air, "Or we wouldn't have come all this way through a bone-dry wasteland!"

"That does not prove anything, my friend," the intruder retorted.

John took the PADD Taurik handed to him and waved it at the other man.

The stranger bowed his head. "It would appear, then, that we have both obtained the proper permits, sir."

Johnny crossed his arms and looked at Taurik, not knowing how to respond. The Vulcan gave him a look in turn that said, "You wanted to handle this, O fearless leader."

"Gentlemen," said the mysterious man as he removed the veil from his face. His olive-toned skin and upswept brows indicated that he was not from Earth. "The sun is going down. Let us retire to my tent, and we can discuss this matter like civilized beings."

"That is a wise suggestion," said Taurik, taking charge and diminishing the chance that Johnny would put his foot back into his mouth.

"I suppose the proper greeting would be 'live long and prosper'?" the man queried.

"That is traditional," Taurik answered diplomatically, "but not required."

"I am not one to disrespect tradition, so I offer it."

"Peace and long life to you," Taurik formed his hand in greeting of his people.

Rahat's back straightened when he beheld Marianne. "Hello, what have we here? I'm Rahat el-Ajam" he at last introduced himself. "And who might you be, Miss?"

"Marianne Broussard, Mr. Rahat," she said with a thin smile. She took the hand that he held out to her, and descended from her camel. It was not difficult for Taurik to see that Marianne was both charmed by and inquisitive about this Rahat el-Ajam, and vice versa. For his part, Taurik was merely inquisitive.

To everyone's further surprise, Rahat smiled dashingly. "It is always a pleasure to meet a lady as lovely as you, Miss Broussard," he said, kissing her hand.

Marianne's jaw fell slowly, and her bronze cheeks flushed at the compliment. Had Taurik not possessed the discipline that he did, he probably would have been as equally crestfallen to see another Vulcan smile.

"Is something wrong? I hope I have not offended you," Rahat asked, knitting his brows. And then he smiled again. "Oh," he realized, "I'm not a Vulcan, if that's what you're wondering."

"You mean you're a Romulan?" she asked excitedly, her beautiful brown eyes blinking rapidly.

"Half-Romulan, actually," he shrugged with feigned indifference. "My mother is human. She's Egyptian, in fact, a descendant of the pharaohs of old. Probably why I am so interested in Egyptology, I suppose."

"Gimmie a break!" Johnny mumbled, almost inaudibly. Taurik repressed an agreeing grunt. Rahat was audaciously bragging in an effort to impress Marianne. No—it was not logical for Taurik to react in any way whatsoever to this. But he felt somehow responsible for and protective of Marianne. He was a Starfleet Cadet and she was a civilian, for one thing. What's more, she was the type of woman who obviously got into trouble easily. And Taurik could see that Rahat was trouble. John at least agreed with him. Was there another emotion stirring inside him? Rivalry, perhaps? No. Certainly not.

They followed Rahat to his tent. "You'll have to excuse my awkwardness. I wasn't expecting any guests. My mother, of course, would say it is no excuse. Please, sit." He fumbled around in his chest and produced the elements for a coffee ceremony.

"So," he rubbed his hands together while waiting for the beverage to brew, "we have Taurik of Vulcan, a Starfleet cadet on summer break. And John—excuse me—Johnny Norris—where did you say you were from?"

"Kansas City," he said proudly.

"Ah, the Kansas or Missouri side?" Rahat inquired.

"Kansas, of course."

Rahat chucked, "A 'jayhawker' is the informal designation, I believe?"

Johnny laughed with him, "Yeah, that's right."

"And last, but most definitely not least, Miss Marianne Broussard," Rahat spoke in awe, as though an angel had come down from heaven to speak with him. "From New Orleans, I dare say."

"Yes," she smiled.

"My second guess would have been New York, judging from your accent, but then you have decidedly Southern traits. And you have a French name," he added with a grin. "Tell me, are you what is referred to as a 'Cajun'?"

"Actually, I'm a Creole girl," she answered.

"How enchanting," the Romulan mused.

"You have not given us very much information about yourself," Taurik interrupted.

Rahat tore his gaze away from the Marianne. "Well," he shrugged, "there isn't much to tell. I am the son of a Romulan officer and the human lady he fell in love with."

"That's so romantic," said Marianne dreamily.

"I have always thought so," Rahat said with a crooked smile. "My mother told me stories of ancient Earth when I was a child. The tale of Hamunaptra and its destruction was my favorite. I have dreamed of finding it ever since. You can well imagine my delight when I stumbled upon the works of Mrs. O'Connell."

A tense silence came over the host and his guests, as "the matter" they came to discuss had not been resolved yet. The coffee was ready at this point, so Rahat promptly served it to them. "You'll find this stronger than the coffee in New Orleans, I fancy. And it is certainly stronger than the rainwater that is peddled out in the Midwest. No offense intended, of course," he said to John.

"None taken," the Kansan shrugged casually.

"Mr. Rahat," Taurik said. "I believe it is time to come to the point."

Rahat's tone immediately became more businesslike. "Very well, Cadet. I will be frank. I arrived here first, so the discovery is mine. However," he raised his hand when Marianne and John opened their mouths to protest, "I am not an egocentric man. For the sake of advancement in the knowledge of history, I am willing to share this find. Much more can be accomplished if we work together. What do you say?"

"That is a fair arrangement," Taurik assented. He realized that he was the only person in the group who did not have an emotional attachment to the whole enterprise. Thus, logic, as well as his Starfleet training, dictated that he would have to be the mediator.

"I agree," Marianne swallowed her pride and supported Taurik. He nourished the hope that it was a sign that she had forgiven him.

"Sure, it makes sense," said John reluctantly.

"Then it is settled," Rahat poked at the campfire. "Our ancestors would be proud, Mr. Taurik."

The Vulcan nodded, "Yes."

Johnny leaned back and chuckled. "Speaking of lines of ancestry, we met this crazy woman in the marketplace at Luxor…what was her name again?" he looked at Taurik and Marianne.

The Romulan looked up from the fire, "Qismah?" he asked, though he appeared to already know the answer. He chuckled when they answered in the affirmative, "Yes, I have met her, too. The Medjai have been watching me from the moment I arrived here. So she was in town this morning? My, they do move quickly."

John laughed with Rahat. "Yeah, well, she was raving on and on with her prophecies of non-Earthers resurrecting the dead, and the 'wiles of females' and such."

"My mother believes in that sort of nonsense," Rahat scoffed, wagging his head. "It perturbs my father to no end. I agree with him when it comes to that sort of thing."

"Do you believe the Medjai pose a threat?" Taurik asked.

"No," Rahat answered confidently. "Unless, of course, we give them the impression that we're going to start bringing mummies to life."

(I don't own Bizet's Carmen, or Bing Crosby's Song of the Dawn)