The Sato Series, Episode 3: a new Frontier



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Laren nodded. “Yeah, but KT, if you read the complete background of your ex, she started making noise about women’s rights as soon as she and Mord’ehK mated. He even agreed with her view, primarily because she herself was such a hero of the Empire, and he didn’t think it was fair that someone with her tactical cunning couldn’t sit on the high council. By the time Mor’dehK died, the women on Qo’noS were almost up in arms against their husbands and fathers.”
Kieran laughed. “P’Arth always said she would change the world. I guess she wasn’t kidding. So she really is the Chancellor—and not just pro tem?”
“She’s not only Chancellor, she is very, very popular with the common people of the Empire. They adore her. And she’s taking every opportunity she can to change the plight of women, and the laws that have kept them out of the political arena,” Laren revealed. “Of course, her detractors, though few and far between, accuse her of being so closely aligned with the Federation and more to the point, with Earth, that she has begun to adopt their views on women. They criticize her, saying she is undermining the very fabric of Klingon society.”
Kieran sighed. “It would be a very volatile concept, for that culture, to see them do a paradigm shift toward feminism. That might potentially rend the fabric entirely, don’t you think?”
Laren was shocked. “Kieran Kelsey Wildman,” she scolded, “you are the last person I ever thought I’d hear defending sexism,” she said flatly, gaping at her friend.
“Don’t misunderstand,” Kieran replied. “I am not defending sexism, Ro. But I also understand that cultural change that comes slowly is generally seen as legitimate, and those behind the change are seen as properly having the authority to implement change. When a culture goes through a social upheaval and embraces radical concepts overnight, it can shatter the cultural foundation. I’m all for equality in the Empire, and I’m completely in favor of women entering the political arena—God knows they can’t do any worse than the men have,” she noted. “But I also understand the backlash that has to be rocking the Empire.”
“Backlash is an understatement,” Laren allowed. “There were riots in the streets, vocal protests and demonstrations that became violent,” she detailed.
Kieran smiled. “You’ve really done your homework, Ro,” she complimented the Bajoran.

“Hey,” Laren replied, grinning, “you’re going to be my Captain. I’m just looking out for your back,” she promised. “Besides, Kit insisted we learn everything about the enemy,” she laughed. “Your daughter is very protective of you.”


Kieran had watched the video of P’Arth addressing the homeworld at her husband’s memorial, playing the grieving widow to the hilt. Kieran studied the Klingon intently, remembered those deep brown eyes and how they regarded everyone around her with contempt. She remembered P’Arth’s jagged teeth, and how quickly they tore flesh. P’Arth gestured broadly, her face a mask of grief, her eyes glittering with unshed tears. Kieran realized that the passage of years had not changed her former lover. P’Arth looked more mature, certainly, but not her age.
“Stop the vid,” she told the computer. “Back it up to time index twelve point six. Watch her hands, Laren,” Kieran said grimly.
Laren studied the Klingon’s hands, noting only that she slid her thumbnail under the nail of her index finger, glancing at her own fingers as she did so. “I don’t see anything, KT,” Laren had replied.
Kieran told the computer to rewind the playback again. “What she’s doing there. She does that when she’s lying,” she recalled. “Anytime she lies, she does that.”
Laren blanched. P’Arth had been saying, in that very moment, how distressed she was over the demise of her husband. “She’s not sorry at all,” Laren muttered.
Kieran nodded. “I’d bet my life on it. She’s glad he’s gone.”
Laren exhaled raggedly, nodding. “She certainly used his death as a means of garnering every minute of public exposure she could. I went back through the newsvids the second Captain Janeway told me about the rumblings among the Klingons, and P’Arth is plastered all over the news feeds. She set this up so expertly, so that she had the sympathy of the populace, and of course they all thought it was fitting she take her husband’s seat. You know she had to wage a major campaign to pull that off,” she noted.
Kieran crossed her arms, shivering as if she were chilled. P’Arth’s eyes had not changed in all the years since they were lovers. They still had the cold edge of steel about them, the detachment of a predatory animal. “Chancellor Gorkon’s daughter is the only woman I know of that ever got the nod for such an honor,” she agreed. “And the circumstances were similar, only Gorkon’s death was no mystery. It figures P’Arth would be in the middle of some damned mess,” she complained. “God, I was always bailing her ass out of trouble at the Academy,” she added. “Laren, I want you to stick to Lenara as if she were the last orb of the prophets,” she specified. “Do not let her even go to the ensuite alone. I’ll tell her to expect you to be her shadow.”
“Understood. I want to assign a security detail to you, too,” Laren had insisted.
Kieran shook her head. “I’m not a scientific dignitary, Laren. I’m an officer. You can’t give me body guards just because P’Arth beat me senseless a few times. First, it’s not protocol, and second, P’Arth might interpret it as an insult. These negotiations are going to be fraught with booby traps, as it is. We can’t do anything to provoke more ill will,” she had sighed. “I appreciate your concern, though,” she had added.
Laren had given her a winning smile. “Hey, you’re my lover’s mother. I know what a wreck Kit is when you’re in danger. I’m just trying to ensure my own peace of mind,” she teased.

Naomi Wildman finished the notations on the composition she was creating at her beloved piano, scripting the final movement of the piece and sighing with satisfaction as she played through the entire song. She was so engrossed in her creative process that she didn’t hear Kieran Wildman slip into their quarters.


Kieran stood silently, watching her wife with fond admiration, mesmerized as she always was with Naomi’s musical skill. Her mind wandered back to a night on Voyager, when Naomi had played for her, a night long before Kieran admitted her love for the Ktarian. She had joined Naomi on the piano bench that night, a breath away from kissing her, both women wanting that intimacy. Her sense of propriety had paralyzed her desire, and she had disappointed Naomi terribly with her lack of courage.
When Naomi concluded the run through, Kieran smiled warmly. It was the anniversary of the first time they had made love, all those years ago on Qian. Kieran wondered if Naomi was aware of the date, or if in the passage of time, her memory had blurred that day along with a hundred other important touchstones. “That was magnificent, Na,” Kieran said in a half whisper.
Naomi turned on the piano bench, blushing. “I didn’t hear you come in,” she admitted. “I’m glad you liked it. I wrote it for you,” she said softly.
Kieran glided across the distance, joining her, facing her on the bench. She remembered a similar conversation, back on Voyager. “I’m honored. There was so much emotion in it, I don’t know what to say,” she echoed their words from so long ago.
Naomi smiled, remembering too. “You must be my muse,” she replied.
Kieran took Naomi’s face in her hands, as she had done all those years ago, only instead of kissing her forehead chastely, she kissed Naomi full on the mouth, a deep, passionate embrace that left the Ktarian limp and breathless.
“That’s what I should’ve done that night on Voyager,” Kieran whispered. “Can you ever forgive me?” she pleaded, brown eyes soft with love for the younger woman before her.
Naomi nodded slowly. “Show me what you wish you had done, KT,” she requested.
Kieran gathered her into warm arms and lifted her from the bench as Naomi’s arms twined around Kieran’s neck and shoulders. “I should have done this,” she said regretfully, kissing Naomi again as she made her way to their bedroom. “And this,” she added, easing Naomi onto the bed, gazing lovingly down at her as strawberry blonde hair cascaded over their pillows.
Kieran leaned low over her wife, kissing her with increasing ardor, mouth firm and warm and yearning. Naomi sighed into that kiss, pulling Kieran down on her, and the two women stretched together, kissing tenderly and letting the arousal build slowly between them.
“Would you have made love to me? If you had done what you wanted?” Naomi asked quietly, hazel eyes locked with Kieran’s darker ones. “Instead of waiting until Qian five years ago today?”
“Yes,” Kieran affirmed, touching Naomi’s pinkened cheek and swallowing the emotion that surged in her heart. “All night long and well into the next day, I’m sure,” she promised, kissing Naomi with forceful abandon.
Naomi’s mouth was so sweet, so delicate beneath her own, receptive, welcoming as it had always been for Kieran’s affection and desire. Kieran could not recall a time when she wanted Naomi and Naomi had refused her. Kieran breathed the scent of the Ktarian’s hair, kissing a trail from Naomi’s mouth to her earlobe, biting down gently on the thicker flesh. “Naomi,” she groaned slightly in the Ktarian’s ear, “God, I want you.”
Naomi gazed up at her wife with clear intent, reaching to pull Kieran down on her slighter frame, remembering a thousand times they had shared this dance. She felt her clothing slipping away, felt her breasts spilling into Kieran’s generous hands, and gave herself up to the tingling sensations that Kieran’s soft kisses incited. Naomi shivered at the way Kieran’s breath skated over her throat, felt the dizziness of motion as Kieran turned them over, drawing Naomi into powerful arms.
“I would have let you lead,” she explained to her lover, deep brown eyes sincere. “I was so afraid of misinterpreting your love for me,” she added.
Naomi nodded. “I knew you weren’t sure of me,” she replied. “At least not sexually. You were so conscious of those boundaries,” she noted. “But believe me when I tell you I wanted you to cross them,” she promised, tugging at Kieran’s uniform closure. “I wanted you to take me to bed and make me yours in every way available to us,” she assured her wife.
Kieran sighed beneath Naomi’s caress, arching into the palms of her fine-boned hands. “You are every bit as beautiful now as then,” she whispered. “Oh, Naomi, you have no idea what torture it was to want you that way. And to tell myself I could never have you.”
Naomi grinned at her wife, nodding. “As I recall, you nearly broke the shower stall door in your make-shift quarters when you had finally let your desires loose,” she teased.
Kieran laughed. “A Klingon moment,” she agreed, gazing lovingly up at the strawberry blonde above her. “After all, I had been with one for years, and then there was all that frustrated sexual energy,” she excused herself.
Naomi quirked an eyebrow. “It thrilled me,” she admitted. “How primal you were. How much you wanted me.”
“And there I was, afraid I’d scare you,” Kieran confessed. “Hell, I scared myself,” she chuckled.
Naomi shook her head. “Do you know, honey, I can still remember how you smelled—your cologne—when you came out of the shower, and the way I could faintly taste mint in your kiss. I can still see you as clear as a bell, in your old blue jeans and your Academy sweatshirt,” she said, sounding far away. “But you didn’t scare me. You couldn’t. I trusted you implicitly, and I always will. No matter how primal you get on me,” she teased, pressing Kieran into their mattress.
“I’ll remind you you said that the next time I’m having a Neanderthal urge,” Kieran smarted, kissing Naomi gently.
Naomi smiled seductively. “That sounds like fun,” she replied, nipping at Kieran’s bottom lip roughly. Kieran tried to finish undressing the Ktarian, but Naomi pinned Kieran’s arms over her head momentarily. “I can be pretty Neanderthal myself,” she warned. To illustrate her point she snatched Kieran’s uniform front and jerked it wide open. She noted the spark of desire the gesture evoked in Kieran’s eyes, and she sunk her teeth into Kieran’s throat, the suddenness startling the larger woman beneath her.
Kieran gave herself up to the heat of the moment, surrendered to Naomi’s insistence. Naomi had never been aggressive, per se; enthusiastic, even vigorous, but not like this. Kisses gave way to biting, punishing ravenous hunger, and Kieran’s lips stung with the harshness of Naomi’s teeth. Naomi bit Kieran’s chin, her neck, her earlobes, not roughly enough to cause damage, but forcefully enough to put a fine point on the moment.
Kieran’s blood thundered in her veins, the contrast of Naomi’s assertiveness to the Ktarian’s usual tenderness driving her to a near frenzy. She understood how her own aggression had thrilled Naomi, how the directness and decisiveness communicated immediacy. It was that immediacy that had drawn her to Klingons in the first place, but both times, those relationships had deteriorated into violence. Naomi was safe, trusted, cherished, and Kieran knew she did not have to restrain her response to protect herself. She swallowed her need for control, forced her mind to acceptance, and let her reaction unleash itself.
Clothing flew in a frenzy of motion, some of it damaged in the removal. Naomi gasped as Kieran’s nails raked over the small of her back, the skin burning in the wake, then recaptured Kieran’s kiss with ferocity, both women caught up in the maelstrom of desire. Fever claimed them, filled them, ushered them to a heightened capacity for aggression, and they joined without any hesitancy or restraint, fingers and tongues questing and bodies writhing, voices impassioned as they drove each other to a state of utter abandon.
And then Naomi was riding that crest, Kieran’s face buried in her folds, lips eager and tongue thrusting, pushing her to that blessed edge. Naomi felt her body surge once, twice, then everything stopped—her breathing, her awareness of her surroundings. She could no longer separate in her mind the distinct sensations of fingers inside her throbbing walls from the sensation of Kieran devouring her clit. It all became a blur in her consciousness, body suffused with aching need, mind overwhelmed by pleasure and fierceness and greedy surrender to her wife’s brutal lovemaking. When the intensity peaked, exploding violently inside her, she shrieked, not knowing her voice had made that sound or was even capable of such a shrill response. She grasped Kieran’s hair so roughly she nearly yanked it free, and still, her body thundered with the breaking waves inside her, and she cried out for the sheer joy of release.
Without resting even a moment she rolled to the side of the bed, removed the phallus from the nightstand, and eyes darkened with determined lust, she affixed it to herself and moved over her wife. Kieran reached for her, impatient, needful, guiding Naomi inside her waiting channel, hips lifting upward to take the penetration fully. Kieran grunted and groaned and Naomi obediently pushed deeper, until she felt buried inside her wife. They had loved each other this way so many times, but never with such urgency, and Naomi began the rhythmic thrusting that always made them both half-mad.
Kieran bit Naomi’s shoulder, clutching her ass cheeks as she moved, pulling her deeper with every stroke. Naomi’s speed increased but Kieran clearly needed more, and Naomi moved quicker and harder, until she was thrashing atop her lover. Kieran knew from the tension in Naomi’s body that she was straining not to lose control of her own orgasm, which was threatening. Kieran swallowed hard, rocking desperately against Naomi’s forward motion, anxious to reach her own climax. As she felt the edge nearing, she pressed her lips against Naomi’s ear, and groaned, “Jesus, Naomi, fuck me,” knowing full well the words would push her wife to a blinding frenzy of motion that would finish them both.
Naomi gasped and shuddered, pounding her hips into Kieran’s thighs, her release fast upon them. She lost all sense of Kieran beneath her as she came into her wife, her rhythm suddenly disjointed and broken, her voice hoarse as she cried out. Kieran came then, legs drawing Naomi as deeply as possible, the heat inside her building until she felt it burning, spreading through her body in a rolling wave of sharp, delicious ecstasy.
They clung in a sweaty tangle of arms and legs and bodily fluids, Naomi still inside her wife, panting and spent and unable to still her heart. Kieran gazed up into hazel eyes, eyes as fierce with love now as they had been with passion moments before.
“I love you, Kieran Wildman,” Naomi breathed raggedly. “Since the day I met you,” she added, smiling at the woman beneath her.
Kieran was too overcome to speak, and settled instead for kissing Naomi deeply and trailing her fingertips over Naomi’s sweat-slicked back.

Out in the living room of the Wildman’s quarters, Robin and Lenara Wildman exchanged amused and knowing glances. The four women had been married over two years formally, in the multiple partner marriage embraced by the Trill culture.


“I see the group marriage has done nothing to cool their individual ardor,” Lenara noted, grinning at her wife, her gold-brown hair framing her diminutive face and green-blue-grey eyes.
“I think it’s sweet,” Robin replied. “It’s their anniversary, you know,” she reminded Lenara.
The Trill nodded assent. “I do know,” she said softly. “Qian,” she added, a far away look in her eyes. “I wish we could have shared that with them.”
Robin shrugged, smoothing her shoulder-length brown hair behind delicate ears. “If we had all been on Voyager, who knows how this would have turned out. You know the Kieran Thompson that married Lenara Kahn first in that other dimension ended up never really growing emotionally, not enough to embrace a Trill marriage. Maybe this way was necessary, so we would all end up joined,” Robin decided. She swallowed her momentary melancholy, and said “I only know I wasn’t ready for this that long ago.”
Lenara laughed quietly. “You and I would have ended up rivals for Kieran’s love, and she would have chosen me because she was so angry with you,” the Trill observed without so much as a hint of arrogance. “And then Naomi would have taken her from me,” she chuckled, shaking her head. “Those two could never be apart, not in this universe,” she advised her wife. “And if Kieran couldn’t accept the concept of fanu’tremu, Naomi would have chosen exclusivity with Kieran.”
Robin nodded agreement. “Probably,” she acquiesced.
Lenara reached across the couch, taking her fanua’thal’s hand. “And we would never have fallen in love at all, Robs,” she added softly, squeezing Robin’s fingers in her own.
Robin gathered the smaller woman into firm, encompassing arms. “Would you have truly been happy if we’d kept things exclusive, Be’thal?” she asked, cuddling her wife close. “Just you and I married, and Kieran married to Naomi?”
Lenara turned in Robin’s arms and kissed her with conviction. “I would have been happy with you Robbie—I was happy with you. But I am happier with this marriage, I admit. It’s my culture, honey. All I’ve ever known, really. It’s always been difficult for me to think in such singular terms as ‘one partner’, you know?” she asked rhetorically.
Robin kissed her softly, murmuring over her lips. “As long as I’m one of your partners, I can’t complain,” she decided.
________________

Captain Jean-Luc Picard muttered to himself, reading over the latest briefing from Starfleet. It wasn’t that he didn’t look forward to a rendezvous with the Sato, because he welcomed the opportunity to see Kieran and Lenara Wildman again. But the prospect of lending out Commander Worf was less than satisfactory, and Kathryn Janeway, he knew, would be insufferably smug about the fact that she had spirited away his top choice for Enterprise’s First Officer in Kieran Wildman.


He sighed, running his palm over his balding scalp. He couldn’t really blame Kieran for wanting to go to a Supremacy Class ship. By comparison, Enterprise was practically ready for the scrap heap. He knew Enterprise would be upgraded as soon as the Sagan was out of the shipyards. But that also meant relinquishing his current Number One, Stephanie Moss, who would be taking the Captaincy of the Sagan. Ever since the Dominion War, he could barely keep key positions filled on his ship. He had heard good things about Kieran’s daughter, Kit Wildman, and he intended to look her over with a keen eye. It was never too soon to assess an officer’s potential, and Kit had Number One written all over her. Besides, she was Kieran’s daughter, and that counted for a lot in his book.
Worf was ready for this assignment, and in fact, was most likely destined for this all along. “Ambassador Worf,” Picard said aloud, letting the words roll off his tongue. “It has a nice ring,” he decided. “Commander Moss,” he hailed his first. “There’s been a change in plans. Set an intercept course for the Sato, maximum warp.”
Stephanie Moss grinned, a fluttering feeling in her stomach. She had friends aboard Sato, most notably, Kieran Wildman, her former teammate, and Kieran’s wives. “Aye, Sir. We’ve got their locator beacon coordinates. Changing course.”
“Very good. Commander, come to my ready room. I need to brief you on the mission,” he added.

Stephanie Moss stared at the screen in disbelief, scowling at the images. “You’ve got to be kidding me,” she groused, pale green eyes flashing pure hatred.


Picard stopped the playback. “Something wrong, Commander?” he inquired, quirking an eyebrow at his first officer.
Stephanie nodded, her perfectly coiffed chestnut-colored hair bobbing. “Yes, Sir. I know that woman,” she inclined her head toward the Klingon on the screen.
“And you think she’s not capable of the treachery she’s suspected of?” he asked, straightening his uniform tunic.
“On the contrary,” Mossy replied, biting her lip. “I’m certain she’s capable of much, much worse,” she admitted. “I didn’t know she had married into such an influential family, much less that her husband was dead,” she added, fretting over it. “Frankly, I wouldn’t be surprised if she did murder him. It wouldn’t be without precedent, in terms of her violent tendencies.”
Picard’s eyebrows shot skyward. “How do you know her?” he demanded.
Mossy sighed. “I know her because I thought seriously about killing her, myself,” she confessed. “Back at the Academy. She’s a drop out. She’s also the Klingon that beat the shit out of Kieran Thompson on more than one occasion.”
Picard’s knuckles went white. “P’Arth of the house of Ve’chuk?” he asked, incredulous. “That’s who put Kieran in the infirmary?” he hissed, grinding his back teeth.
Mossy nodded curtly. “Yes, Sir. I’d know that face anywhere. You knew about all that?” she asked, surprised.
“Kieran’s service record included Doctor Pulaski’s medical documentation of the abuse. Oh, Kate tried to couch it in obscure terms and vague illusions, but before we took Kieran on as an intern, Deanna Troi and I put two and two together. And when we interviewed her for the posting, we asked several rather blunt questions. Kieran was humiliated, but I had to make sure she wasn’t in a bad state of mind. It helped having an empath to evaluate her clandestinely,” he confided. “But I had no idea who the culprit was. I certainly did not know it had been a Klingon,” he breathed, stunned.
“So they think P’Arth killed her own husband to garner a seat on the high counsel,” Mossy ruminated over the briefing tape.
Picard shook his head. “More likely that she hired someone to kill him. But yes, she wanted his seat on the high counsel, or more specifically, she wanted to be Chancellor. The Empire is finally at a stage in its development to allow a female to assume that sort of authority, provided she’s a proven warrior. P’Arth must be just that, if she was voted onto the high counsel. She’s very popular among the common factions on Qo’noS, which is odd. She has been a figure of wealth and privilege, but she came from simple roots, and they identify with her, apparently.” he explained. “Living out their dreams, as it were,” he sighed.

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