A/N – Thank you to danalexkayarimad, spockawocka5678, spectravel, Nyotarules, nicnac, Princesscheese, Tamari's Angelfor the reviews.

Thanks to partyof4, Black-Dirge, Nyotarules and CMW2, Starriver92 and yunsi for adding to your faves.

Chapter 5 – The Mutt and the Addle Brained Vulcan

Twenty years before the destruction of Vulcan on a planet not too far from Earth….but far enough.

Amongst many very tall steel filthy cages containing slaves of all races and ages, a green powerfully built Orion slaver who had three lovely ladies chained up behind him grabbed the shirt of one of the slaves in the pen and picked him up. Momentarily, the boy's periwinkle eyes stared at Bluto. With a confused look, he studied the pale pointy eared lithe fifteen year old boy with cottony white and black streaked hair who kicked and growled wildly. "What is it?"

"Male teenager, origin Aldus Prime" the Orion female in a business suit replied.

"I'm not blind and nothing comes from Aldus Prime. What species is it?"

"Mutt," the woman replied. "Look, you needed a slave for labor but you don't have any extra credits. This one is useless but if you train him you can get some credits for him I'm sure. Besides, it's free and your wife wanted you to purchase four slaves."

"If it's free it's for me; even if it's dumb." While Bluto signed all the necessary screens, his new acquisition hopped up and down next to him. Plus he couldn't let his wife know he gambled some of their credits away so the mongrel was fortuitous.

"Mutt, mutt, pet, pet….ship weeee ship weee……" The boy motioned flight with his hands. "Big ship … little ship….birthday …..birthday….happy time….wedding day…wifey wife…fly away…..yum yum….happy day…fly away."

Bluto yanked the chains of his three females who dutifully followed as he headed for a very colorful rather sleazy café named NicNac. Mutt skipped along beside with a vacant look in his periwinkle eyes. Just as their yellow nargle burgers appeared, Mutt started to undo his trousers. "Cocky doo doo," he stated as he started to squat.

"Use the restroom," Bluto growled and pointed towards the facilities.

The boy shrugged and walked towards the bathrooms. A half hour later, the boy still hadn't returned so Bluto searched and searched until he gave up and returned to the dock where he landed his ship. However, he found his ship gone. Someone figured out his pass codes.

Oddly enough around that time, Vulcan merchants Sun and T'Prev of the Thur'Undlan clan along with their sixteen year old daughter T'Pyre flew towards a remote area of space for trade. "I'd rather return to VIDA. It suits me. I find regular school at San S'karra unpleasant." T'Pyre hated the bullies at the regular school especially Safak who was the worst one of all. While T'Pyre received a rounded enough education, her grades were below average at San S'karra, she did quite well at VIDA which surprised everyone.

Suddenly, the decompression alarm blared throughout the ship. Immediately, they sent a distress signal. A string of green matter, faulty parts purchased from the Ferengi or any sort of space anomaly could have caused it but one thing was certain: they were too far from help for anyone to get to them for several days. The old life pod they had might support three for two days or one for six days. Sun and T'Prev looked at each other with a loving sadness. Through their bond, they echoed the same thought. We will save T'Pyre. Their daughter looked at them worriedly and shook her head. Both of them touched two fingers to the sides of her head. With our lives, you have our love. Live long and prosper. Sun surreptitiously pinched his daughter's neck and placed her in the tiny shuttle and set the coordinates towards the nearest space lane.

The K'Vort class Klingon Bird of Prey IKV Rok'Tov Seech warped towards distant stars when it received a Vulcan distress signal. Communications officer Kell addressed Admiral Kord. "Sir, it's a Vulcan life pod. The signal originated six and a half days ago."

Science officer K'Vin ridged head turned toward Kord. "Life signs are weakening. The child has maybe an hour left."

Kord's wrinkled brow furrowed. Then he heard female child. Maybe because he had four sons and no daughters this battle hardened old warrior felt remorse to leave a child to die in the cold of space, even a Vulcan. "Beam her aboard and alert medical." No one dared question him.

Two hours later the Vulcan female presented herself to the Admiral as he ate his Gok which was essentially live worms in the mess hall. "Good evening Admiral Kord. I am T'Pyre of the Thur'Undlan clan."

Typically Vulcans showed no emotion but this one seemed sad and determined. Medical reported her to be sixteen but she seemed younger or maybe she was short compared to the Vulcan norm. "We are on a deep space mission and will not be returning for six years. If you stay aboard ship, you will not read any of us and you will earn your keep. You will not be treated different nor will we cater to you peculiar Vulcan tastes. Like most Vulcans, I suppose you're a walking computer."

To their surprise, T'Pyre grabbed a handful of Gok and ate it casting aside her Vulcan vegetarian diet. "No I am not, nor am I any good at mind melds and I'm considered addle brained by the bullies at school."

"Well then what use are you?"

T'Pyre pointed to one of the biggest Klingons at the table. "I challenge you. First blood wins."

Kord and the rest of the crew belly laughed. Not only did the little Vulcan challenge one of his crew but also a marine, the meanest of the Klingons. "Mar'tuk you have a challenge."

Once they finished eating, the tables folded against the wall. The lower level of the grey metal deck served as an arena and an upper deck with a rail surrounding it provided perfect view for spectators. The burly Klingon marine in black readied his Batliff while the Vulcan did likewise. The predators circled each other. The Klingon swung his blade at the Vulcan. Swiftly, she leapt out of the way and flipped around behind him. He twisted around lunged at her to pin her beneath the blade and end this ridiculous battle. She locked her Batliff in his. Using his forward momentum, she rolled backwards and kicked in his abdomen on a spot painful to Klingons. As he lay on the ground, she pricked his fingertip with her blade, drawing one drop of blood.

Most every Klingon laughed especially the admiral. "You are now part of the marines."

To accommodate the child, Kord let her stay in his personal weapons room. With the relocation of the weapons to the closet in his quarters, it gave her a tiny room for privacy which he knew Vulcans prized. When he stopped in to give her a present, she quickly hopped up. He could see that she had been crying. If she decided to tell him what happened, it would be her prerogative but until then he would let her have her privacy. "This is your uniform." He handed her the all black Klingon uniform. "All black shows everyone that you're a marine."

"My parents sacrificed themselves to save me. The life pod would have only sustained us for a couple of days. By myself, it would last six." She looked at the uniform and curiously looked at how the decorative pieces of the belt could be pieced together with various other parts to form weapons.

"Your parents died with honor. Any Klingon child would be proud."

"I know." She picked up the TajtIq a curved very sharp dueling knife, a small version of a Klingon sword. "I won't kill for pleasure, only for self-defense." She balanced the knife on her finger to test its quality.

"Don't forget revenge. That's another good reason to kill."

"I'll consider it if I ever have need for revenge." She tossed the knife straight into the air so it twirled. When it came back down, she caught it by the handle.

"What sort of education have you had?"

"I'm a Kareel-ifla adept who has mastered Ponn-ifla. I can kill with proficiency."

"What weapons are you proficient with?" Kord wondered why Vulcan had never been defeated.

"All of them," she stated matter-of-factly.

By the end of three weeks, T'Pyre had proved herself with the crew through practice fights and her willingness to help with various ship duties. During her off time, she studied with tutorial disks Kord provided. When she entered the mess hall, all the Klingons stood in a circle. Kord escorted her into the middle of the circle. "State your parents' names."

"Sun and T'Prev of the Thur'Undlan clan," she stated.

"Beware Sun and T'Prev of the Thur'Undlan clan will be arriving." All the Klingons howled at the ceiling. Once the howling ended, Kord explained. "Because of their honorable death, they are going to Sto-vo-kor."

Next several candles were lit and K'Vitz, Kord's son stepped forward. "We welcome you into the Noggra House. With the R'uustai ritual, we become siblings."

T'Pyre nodded. "I would be honored."

Kord placed the House of Noggra's sash on her. "SoS jIH batlh SoH" Using a TajtIq, Kord cut K'Vitz's and T'Pyre's palms and joined them together. "You are now one of us."

Two years later Kord and a few of his men met with some of the Cardassians. Both groups needed to trade because their mission took them away from Federation space and easily obtained supplies. Their Bird of Prey desperately needed new dilithium crystals and the Cardassians needed power couplings. Kord knew the deal wouldn't go well but he needed to at least try to avoid war. T'Pyre joined the landing party wearing civilian clothes she purchased. During such occasions, she wore her hair down to conceal the pointed ears. The reptilian looking Cardassians eyed her with interest. "What's this?"

"A pet I picked up in the space lanes." Kord watched her wander around the group looking wide-eyed and addle brained.

Raptir pulled his phaser. "No deal. We'll take the…." The three Cardassian troopers behind him dropped to the ground just as his neck artery sliced open.

Kord didn't even see T'Pyre's subtle but fast and precise movements. Over the years the crew learned that T'Pyre's initial fighting style was just for show. The Vulcan defensive arts taught her to use rapid, precise movements for kill shots only. Wasting energy on combat was strength depleting and inefficient, highly illogical.

That evening they celebrated T'Pyre's promotion in the Klingon marines. Within the ranks, they aptly named her M'TajtIq. Like her namesake of the Klingon sword and in its short bladed form, she was small but deadly.

Eighteen years later, one massive Romulan ship: a ship whose advanced weaponry could not have come from the Romulan Star Empire destroyed forty-seven Klingon war-birds. The Romulan crew had a most terrible revenge for their imprisonment on Rura Penthe. Their revenge began ironically with the destruction of Rura Penthe. From auxiliary control, the screen flickered with its last image of the Narada departing. With the Klingon ship so badly damaged and the life support slowly draining, T'Pyre meditated and prepared for the afterlife which all of her comrades had already joined.

Ten point three seven hours later an arsenic grey ship in the shape of a flying saucer appeared on screen. She felt the low hum of a transporter. In a transporter room, she observed a human appearing male in his early twenties with delicately handsome features and with spiked tri-colored hair of white at the roots, auburn in the middle and black tips. Two lovely completely identical human females with shoulder length brown hair who showed no emotion at all stood next to him.

However, the man grinned warmly. "Vulcan I presume," he said intently looking at her black Klingon uniform.

"Yes," she replied. "My name is T'Pyre of the clan Noggra."

"Well I can assume that you survived in a low oxygen atmosphere because you're Vulcan. The question I have is what were you doing aboard a Klingon ship?" The man's periwinkle eyes observed her skeptically.

"I was part of the crew." T'Pyre curiously gazed at the round transporter room now that she had time to note her surroundings. Someone painted an intricate icy blue landscape making it an exact replica of Andoria it to the point that the three transporter pads looked like the ice mounds of Turin'av. The art seemed quite familiar. "Who are you?"

"I'm Rishley. Welcome aboard the Renaissance." He nodded before gesturing to the girls. "This is Alice and Betty."

The females were so identical that one wore the letter A and the other B. "Welcome, how may we serve you?"

"Water and a meal would be nice," T'Pyre replied. Both women left. "Are they androids?"

"Yes very observant of you," he replied. "I found them on a K-Class planet during my travels. They maintain this ship for me among other things."

Stepping through doors painted to look like the entrance to an ice cave, they lead her through the ship. The painted corridor looked like a jungle path with the floors being an earthen foot path with trampled foliage. The detailed perspective on the walls gave the illusion of Toucans on the tree branches amongst even more of Earth's wildlife. "You are the intergalactic artist Rishley."

"Yes I am," he replied. Even the Klingons respected Rishley's art. Being neutral, many species sought him for his unsurpassed artistic ability but few ever met the hermit. "What's your line of work?"

"Assassin," she replied.

"Whoa," he said taking a few steps back. "Do you do bodyguard work also?"

"I suppose I could." Through doors that looked like the entrance to a Deltan Inn, they entered the galley. Beneath a white sun, sat a picnic table sat in the middle of a picturesque countryside peppered with large trees with feathery leaves of gold and orange while flowers of every shape and size dappled teal grass all. Betty brought food and water for her. "You're artwork is amazing."

"Thank you," he replied. "You show emotion...well a little unlike most Vulcans and you're short. Are you half Vulcan or something?"

"No I'm an addle-brained pure blooded Vulcan." T'Pyre tried to curb her ire at her host.

"I didn't mean to offend. Actually, I find it refreshing that you show a little emotion but still have the mental shields of a Vulcan. As to the short thing, you're still hot."

Once more she consumed her meal. "What does body temperature have to do with it?"

"Nothing," he replied. "Look, I know losing your friends and crew hurt, so feel free to chill here for awhile. In about seven months I have an extremely lucrative commission on Delta. In the meantime, I have several things lined up along the way. I can drop you off anywhere our course takes us."

"Your generosity is appreciated."

"Now if you would like to stay on. I could use a bodyguard. The pay is generous. When we're on the ship, you're off duty. Not to mention travel." Patiently he watched as she finished her meal. "Now for a tour of my ship," he added.

The largest diameter of the ship served as a running track with adjustable gravity painted to look like the rings of Saturn. The slickly designed engine room located at the topmost rounded bulb of the saucer was actually a warp nacelle capable of warp four point one at the extreme but cruised comfortably at warp two. The ship had minor weapons capabilities but no shields. "Why don't you have shields?"

"This ship has no need of it." Then he laughed at her raised brow. "The entire ship has a thin neutronium coating."

Even though she wasn't a science wiz by Vulcan standards, she knew that the density of neutronium rendered it virtually impenetrable by phasers or conventional weapons but it was rare and very expensive. "How did you manage that?"

"Let's just say I've travelled quite a bit and I know how to barter."

The bottom bulb of the saucer contained the water reclamation facilities and everything else mechanical that a ship needed. The inner saucer section had storage rooms for food, spare parts and other equipment. Those rooms remained undecorated because they were filled. However, the rest of the ship's rooms and corridors were painted to look like various planet-scapes.

Not long after T'Pyre boarded the Renaissance, she and Rishley discussed travel plans and her contract. Suddenly both stood in shock and grief. Moments later the intergalactic news broadcasted a story about the destruction of Vulcan. Immediately, Rishley hugged her. Unlike her brethren, T'Pyre believed in letting out strong emotions if it would help the healing process. During her very long cry, she saw that Rishley cried as well. T'Pyre grieved and meditated for several weeks. Rishley left her to do so only sending in Betty or Alice once a day to check on her. They even loaned her some of their clothes.

When her grief purged, T'Pyre accepted Rishley's offer. "I think I know why you paint so many planet-scapes."

"Really, tell me your theory."

"I respect your privacy. You'll tell me when you're ready."

"Vulcan privacy is legendary." Rishley traced the rim of his chocolate martini for a moment. "It does get a little lonely on the ship so if you ever have any physical urges, just let me know."

"You pay me and that would make me a prostitute which I am not. Besides, don't the androids fulfill your needs?"

"It's not the same but I understand and I won't harass you."

Over two years later after some very lucrative deals on Farious Prime, an industrialized planet and hot spot for the Orion Syndicate, in a private hanger, the crew of the Renaissance loaded supplies from fuel to food and everything betwixt. T'Pyre snapped to attention when she heard a commotion.

The ridged human looking native guards held someone back. "She's got a bomb!"

Rishley ran towards the commotion. "It's not a bomb. Let her be."

On the ground, amongst the guards, a grey haired pointy-eared woman with green blood oozing from her mouth held an ornate bronze looking cylinder with odd designs on it. Rishley knelt beside her. "What happened to you?"

"Poison," she muttered. "Rishley can go anywhere."

"Most anywhere," he agreed.

"The last Praetor will prevent a war."

Rishley paid his respects to the woman and took the object for safe keeping. Because of his fame and staunch neutrality, he could go most anywhere because he had no home world to show allegiance to.