A special thanks to 0afan0 for your invaluable assistance with my writer's block. I could not have done it without you!

In response to "The Mad Hatter," yes, as a matter of fact there will be whist in this story! It's my favorite game, so I of course had to add it.

"Taurik's Bride," that's an interesting name with which you chose to sign your review! Thank you to all who left those other fun and creative reviews!

The digging progressed at a tediously slow rate. "This is nothing," Johnny explained to Taurik. "It must have been like watching paint dry in the twentieth century when O'Connell supposedly first discovered the city. Everything had to be dug out by hand. Nowadays, we just need people diggers for the delicate parts."

"That is indeed fortunate," Taurik agreed, though he was not paying much attention to what John was saying. His thoughts were instead focused on Marianne. Ever since Rahat had joined the team, the two were practically inseparable. So much so, that Taurik had barely had more than two words spoken to him by her. He found it difficult to bear, and it made him regret even more his harsh words to her during the trek to the site, even if they were true.

The Vulcan observed as Marianne and Rahat discussed their similar childhood dreams of discovering Hamunaptra, their career accomplishments, and their hopes for the future. They sat in the shade of the awning, while the digging machines performed the task of uncovering the lost city. Rahat was again bragging, this time about his previous discoveries.

"That's so amazing that you found Imhotep's tomb," Marianne said, slightly envious. "I mean, people have been searching for it for over four hundred years!"

"It was going to be found by someone eventually," Rahat replied with false modesty, "it just happened to be me."

"It's still impressive," she smiled bashfully.

Rahat held a finger in the air. "But there is something much more interesting I found at Saqqara that I wish to show you," he said mysteriously.

"Oh?" she asked.

"Wait just a moment," he said before he dashed into the tent.

Taurik seized the opportunity that presented itself. "Miss Broussard," he began slowly. "I hope I did not offend you on the journey here. I assure you that was not my intention."

Marianne nodded. "What you said was true, Cadet," she acceded. "And I apologize for reacting the way I did."

"In return for your acknowledging so, I will venture to say that I was overly critical of you," he said. "I judged you by Vulcan standards. That was erroneous of me."

She smiled thinly and her eyes started to shine in the setting sun. She fully understood the significance of a Vulcan admitting he was wrong and apologizing for it. "Thank you for saying so, Cadet."

"Then our relationship is repaired?" he asked optimistically.

"Our friendship is repaired, yes," she specified with a caring smile.

"I am pleased to know that," his heart lightened as held his hands behind his back.

Just then, Rahat returned with a parcel, which was wrapped in a brown cloth. He set it down in front of Marianne. "Open it," he said, grinning boyishly.

She narrowed her eyes at him quizzically, and then unwrapped the object. It was a large book made of a precious metal, silver was Taurik's guess.

"Where did you find this?" she gasped.

"What is it?" Taurik asked.

Her bewitching brown eyes sparkled excitedly when they met Taurik's, which caused his heart to skip a beat. "This is the Book of the Dead!" she practically squealed. She repeated her question to Rahat.

"It was near Imhotep's tomb," the Romulan answered, crossing his arms casually, "lying in the middle of the desert."

"I can't believe it," she breathed reverently. "Have you announced this find yet?"

"Not yet," he said, "I wanted to announce it along with finding Hamunaptra." He sat down next to her. "Your name will be along side mine in this discovery now, Miss Broussard," he said with a devilish smirk.

For once, Marianne did not notice Rahat's flirting with her, however. She ran her fingers along the seal where it opened. "Do you have the key to this lock?" she asked hopefully.

"Well…" Rahat began sheepishly. Taurik dastardly allowed himself secret satisfaction from the fact that Rahat had finally fallen short of his arrogant boasts.

Just then, John came running up to the tent. "Look what I've found!" he announced. "I think it's a key of some sort."

Two days later they found a step. Another step was uncovered. And then another, and another. Soon a massive staircase was reclaimed out of the sand.

"Hmm," Rahat rubbed his chin as he studied the computer screen. "It looks like this is all that is left of the city. So it really was destroyed," he lamented.

"There are thousands of small objects scattered about, however," Taurik said. "Perhaps you will find something of value among them. The fact that you have confirmed that this was indeed Hamunaptra is a significant discovery in its own right."

"Taurik is right," Marianne said with a friendly smile in his direction, "Good things often come in small packages."

It was two days before Taurik had to leave to start his classes in Cairo that a momentous discovery was at last unearthed. A sarcophagus was found, buried in the rubble of what was the lost necropolis of Hamunaptra. It was a grand, ornate coffin, obviously that of an important Ancient Egyptian, though not a pharaoh.

"He's Imhotep! I know it," Marianne insisted. "Look! The sacred carvings and spells have been chipped off. Who else could he be?"

"It is certainly probable," Rahat admitted. He was professionally skeptical, though barely able to contain his personal excitement. John agreed.

As Taurik was new to this field of study, he naturally had questions. "Who was this Imhotep?"

John took to the role of enlightening the Vulcan. "Imhotep was a high priest of Amun-Ra. He was also significant because he suffered the Hom-Dai," he explained. "His name and the sacred spells on his coffin are chiseled off because he was condemned in the afterlife as well as in his own life."

The Vulcan raised an eyebrow. "Why?" he asked.

"That's where no one seems to agree," Rahat said with relish. "Some say it was because of his blasphemous relations with the pharaoh's daughter."

"And others say she was a priestess of another cult, that of Isis," Johnny said.

"We only know for sure that her name was Anck-su-namum," Marianne summarized. "When she died prematurely, Imhotep forsook the cult of Amun-Ra, in favor of the cult of Anubis."

"The god of death and burial," Taurik recalled from his preliminary studies.

"Yes," Johnny said. "He hoped to bring her back to life by the secret incantations contained in the Book of the Dead. But he was discovered before he could complete the profane ritual, and condemned."

"That's why he was not buried in his own tomb," continued Rahat. "Instead, he was mummified alive, and his tongue cut out, poor fellow. He was supposedly buried here at Hamunaptra, so that Pharaoh's guards could keep an eye on him. The Medjai claim to be the descendants of those original guards."

"So Imhotep is the victim to whom Qismah was referring? Why would he need to be guarded for thousands of years?" the Vulcan asked.

Rahat nodded in confirmation of his first question. "The Egyptians believed that if a victim of the Hom-Dai were brought back to life, he would conquer the earth and make the human race his slaves," he described with visible amusement.

"Then it is illogical to condemn a person to this Hom-Dai if it is thought to be so dangerous," Taurik concluded.

"That's why it was almost never performed," Marianne explained. "It was the ultimate punishment because his soul could never be at peace. But at the same time, it was dangerous because of the potential of his being resurrected. To our knowledge, Imhotep is the only person to ever suffer this curse."

"Intriguing," the Vulcan mused. "How will you be able to confirm that this was Imhotep?"

"Well, there's no definite way," John began.

"Yes, there is," said Rahat. "Imhotep may not have been buried in his tomb, but his sarcophagus was still used for his burial. They simply removed his name and the spells. We can compare the markings here to those in his tomb at Saqqara."

"That's an excellent idea!" Marianne said admiringly. "You're so brilliant, Mr. Rahat."

"I have my moments," Rahat shrugged, smiling his usual, crooked grin.

"Well, what are we waiting for?" said John, "Let's open it and find out!"

"You do the honors, Johnny," said Marianne.

John clapped and rubbed his hands together. "Ok, here we go," his Kansas twang was fully noticeable, as he was both excited and nervous. Cautiously, he began cutting the seal of the sarcophagus. After he had made a groove all the way around, he motioned for the others to help him. "Gimmie a hand here, you guys."

Taurik and Rahat helped him open the lid with their anti-gravity tools. They could hear the sound of air rushing into the coffin as the lid was lifted.

Marianne shook her fists giddily. "Oooh, I've dreamed about this ever since I was a little girl!"

The Vulcan cocked his head. "Indeed, Miss Broussard?" he said, a miniscule amount of comicality his tone. "You dream about the dead? How odd."

John and Rahat nearly dropped the lid when they started laughing. "Taurik!" John burst out, "Did you just make a wisecrack?"

"And whoever said Vulcans don't have a sense of humor?" Rahat chuckled.

Marianne shined her gorgeous smile at Taurik again. "That was pretty funny, Cadet. I didn't know you had it in you."

"I was merely taking your remark to its logical conclusion," he deluded, though it had indeed been his intention to amuse her.

"Sure you were," John said wryly as they lowered the lid to the ground.

The tetrad curiously peered into the open funerary box. The mummy lay inside, completely intact. The two humans and half-human gasped.

"Correct me if I am wrong," ventured Taurik, "but this sarcophagus does not appear to have been opened before now."

The other three shook their heads. "It hasn't," Marianne confirmed.

"Then Evelyn O'Connell didn't really find Imhotep after all," Johnny said in wonder.

"Or," Rahat folded his arms, "this man isn't Imhotep…" He paced over to where the lid was lying. "The more I look at these markings," he ran his fingers along the surface, "the more I begin to see they are different from the tomb at Saqqara. Yes!" he snapped his fingers, "I can see it now! They are different."

Marianne examined the mummy again. "He does appear to have been a priest," she reasoned, "and the Hom-Dai was clearly performed."

"So ol' Imhotep wasn't the only person to have this done to him," Johnny regretfully concluded.

"Apparently not," said Marianne sadly.

"Well," Rahat said suddenly, in an attempt to lighten the mood, "we should keep digging and hope we can discover this man's identity. In the meantime, I believe this is cause for celebration. And I have just the thing—assuming, Cadet," he eyed Taurik suspiciously, "that you will not turn me in."

"That depends on what it is," he replied, though he had already guessed it.

Rahat laughed. "Of course you won't, Taurik!" he went into his tent. After a moment, he returned with a bottle of azure liquid. "This," he proudly held the container up, "is a part of my culture and heritage!"

"Romulan ale!" Johnny was practically woozy with astonishment. "I've always wanted to try that stuff, man."

"And tonight you shall, my friend," he said, slapping Johnny on the shoulder, "but I warn you, it is extremely potent."

Marianne stirred the roux carefully. It was a light tan at this point, and she estimated that she was about at the half-way point before it would reach the color of chocolate. She wiped the perspiration from her forehead. Maybe gumbo was not the best choice for dinner in this heat. But Rahat and Johnny had pleaded with her to make it anyway. Even Taurik expressed a desire to try it.

Rahat studied the browning oil and flour for what must have been the hundredth time. "How long do you have to stir it?" he wondered. He looked up from the pot and regarded her with a puppy dog pout.

"As long as it takes," she answered quickly. "Finish chopping those vegetables," she commanded him.

The Romulan bowed graciously and went back to the bell peppers. Johnny was slicing onions, celery, and garlic, while Taurik was working on green beans, eggplants, okra, and collard greens.

"Authentic Louisiana gumbo…" said Johnny dreamily.

"The vegetarian version, of course," Marianne added with a smile in Taurik's direction.

"I appreciate your consideration," the Vulcan acknowledged, efficiently and perfectly chopping the produce. He would make a great chef, Marianne thought.

"It's too hot for meat anyway," Rahat said.

The gumbo turned out exceptionally well. It was the first time she had ever tried to make a vegetarian gumbo, but she kept that part to herself. Happily, the tent had a cooling device, so they did not get too hot from eating the gumbo. After dinner, they cleaned up and Rahat broke open his ale.

"You're certainly a man of many talents, Mr. Rahat," Marianne said, "How did you get this anyway?"

"I have my sources, as I'm sure you well know," he replied with a flirty wink as he poured some in her glass. "And you can drop the 'mister.' We're comrades now, fellow discoverers!"

They passed the bottle around, and before they knew it, they all felt warm and tingly, despite the cooling night air.

"C'mon, Marianne," insisted a slightly inebriated Johnny, "let's have a song!"

"You sing, too?" Rahat lit up, choking on his drink.

"Miss Broussard has an exceptional soprano voice," Taurik informed him.

"Now that I know this," said Rahat with an irresistibly charming smile, "I simply must hear you!" His voice was getting louder, for the ale was taking effect.

Marianne blushed. And then she realized that she had not sung at all since they arrived. He was so handsome and persuasive, how could she say no?

Candlelight dies at the window
And the night wind blows soft from the sea
Though I lie in your arms, I'm a thousand miles away
On the waves sailing fast, sailing free.

Now my heart is the heart of the ocean
There are storms from the sea in my soul
I'm restless and deep
And before I can sleep
I must go... where the black waters roll

"I like it," Rahat said after she finished. "Since I have always lived in a desert, songs of the sea are particularly drawing to me. And Taurik is right," he said in awe, "your voice is as beautiful as you are."

Marianne could feel that her face was burning. Rahat seemed to have that affect on her, especially since he was never shy about compliments. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Taurik stir ever so slightly.

"Forgive my boldness, Marianne," Rahat apologized, slightly embarrassed, "the ale, you know…I told you it was powerful," he chuckled nervously.

"Have any of you ever played whist before?" Johnny suddenly asked, whipping out his deck of cards.

When they answered in the negative, Johnny insisted on teaching them. Marianne found the situation to be quite funny, the fact that they were all intoxicated and trying to learn a new card game. She had never tried Romulan ale before, so she had no idea how it might affect her. But they managed to play and have a marvelous time. It was enjoyable to be the only woman there, with Rahat and Johnny debating over which should be her partner first.

Taurik was silent. Though her observational skills were usually keen, the alcohol made it difficult for Marianne to read him. The Vulcan turned out to be a brilliant whist player, with his mathematical mind and acute memory. When it was his turn to be her partner, she noticed for the first time that he was watching her very closely from across the way. It was a necessary component of playing the game, but she could not help feeling that there was more behind his impassive mask. Was her theory about him having a crush on her correct? Or perhaps it was her drink, which she knew had an infamous reputation.

She and Taurik made an unstoppable team. They achieved a small slam in the first hand, and ended up taking the rubber. Since they both had perceptive temperaments to start with, they worked well with each other. They both knew when to take the lead, and when to allow the other to do it. John and Rahat were skillful players, but not nearly as observant. In addition, they had both consumed a vast deal more ale than Taurik and Marianne.

Taurik placed his four remaining cards down on the table, signaling his taking of the rest of the hand. That wily Vulcan, Marianne thought admiringly.

Rahat laughed and threw his cards down. "I think I've had enough for one evening."

"Enough of playing cards, or of your 'culture and heritage'?" Taurik asked serenely. That caused Rahat to laugh even harder, and John and Marianne joined him. Taurik's dry wit was speedily becoming an enduring quality, especially in Marianne's eyes.

"Both, I imagine!" the Romulan admitted jovially.

"I'm no good at this game, either," Johnny yawned. "I'm going to bed now."

"And I shall follow your example," said Taurik reluctantly, "I have not meditated today yet. Goodnight."

After they left, Marianne leaned back in her chair. "So, I'm dying to know, what's it like on Romulus?"

"Actually," Rahat said, "I don't know. I've never been. Because of the political situation, surely you can understand why my father was never able to take me there."

"I'm sorry," she said.

"Don't be," he insisted, "I'm not. I consider Earth to be my home, Egypt in particular. This is where my heart is. If I ever had the chance to go to Romulus, I would, of course; but it will not devastate me if the chance never comes, either. What about you?" he asked, entranced. "How does a jazz singer from New Orleans end up studying to become an Egyptologist anyway?"

"Hmm," she considered. "I suppose it started when I was a little girl, when I found a book about ancient Egypt at the library. I wanted to learn more, and I read every book I could get my hands on. By the time I reached college, I already knew what I wanted to do."

"And how does being a jazz singer fit into all of this?" he leaned forward.

"Well, I am from New Orleans," she said, "so that was bound to rub off on me in some form or another. It's a fun hobby, which happens to pay the bills."

"I can understand that," he chuckled knowingly.

"Speaking of books," she said as she reached for the Book of the Dead, which was in a box by her feet. Rahat handed her the key, and she opened it.

"Are you at a point yet where you can sight read?" he asked, locking his fingers together.

"Oh, yes," she smiled proudly, turning the heavy pages carefully. "I was able to do that before I finished high school."

Rahat sighed deeply. "You truly are an amazing woman…"

Marianne's mouth ran dry. The climate was rather arid. The way he looked at her made her heart race. Rahat was charming enough when he was sober, but now… Liquored up, he was a veritable dreamboat.

"Read it, Marianne," he taunted flirtatiously, "I dare you."

(I don't own the Heart of the Ocean by Gaelic Storm.)