by Shards
Rudy Josephs was first exposed to Star Trek at a young, impressionable age, but it wasn't until the launch of Star Trek: The Next Generation that he truly got hooked. He suspects that it was mainly because he was the same age as Wesley Crusher and he figured if that kid could do all that he did, there was no telling what Rudy would achieve. Sadly, Rudy is still waiting for an interstellar traveler to come whisk him away from his boring life.
Betazed.
The most desolate hellhole of a planet Andrul Taqut had ever visited. Dead shrubs had overrun the landing area where his father had set down the family's private shuttle, a long walk from their mysterious destination. Andrul was not accustomed to traveling by foot for any distance. On Cardassia, he'd had a personal vehicle and driver assigned to him since birth. He still didn't understand why they couldn't simply beam down to the planet that wasn't even listed as M Class on star charts. His father had muttered some nonsense about planetary quarantine buoys, which only caused him more confusion over the purpose behind this impromptu trip.
Had his father learned of his massive losses betting on the underground slave fights or one of his many other secret endeavors? It seemed unlikely. If his father were going to kill him, it would have been done in public and with all the bells and whistles accorded such family conflicts. That was the best way to keep face in the Klingon-Cardassian Alliance. Children secretly disappearing only led to gossip and scandal that could affect Gul Taqut's position. Open filicide was the preferred method of dealing with a disappointing child.
Surely, the excuse of Andrul's entering into the Noran Tuk, the time of a youth's transition into manhood, was not the actual reason for the trip. That was a more formal gala filled with all the pomp and revelry traditional to the most archaic rituals. It was something that would be overseen by his mother. Certainly not something to be partaken on some long-abandoned world.
Empty husks of buildings lined the street of the once city. Andrul's history lessons had never mentioned any ancient civilizations in this corner of the universe. Not that the Alliance-approved texts weren't heavily edited, particularly regarding the former Terran Empire. If he'd known where his father was taking him, he would have done more research, but this mystery excursion didn't allow for any preparation, a fact, Andrul was certain, his father had intentionally planned.
A set of rusted metal doors stood at the end of a minor thoroughfare. The doors seemed neither particularly welcoming nor formidable, but Andrul's father proceeded directly toward them without hesitation. As they approached, Andrul watched as his father slid back a stone in the crumbling wall beside the door, revealing a modern keypad that clearly was installed after the planet was discarded. His father pressed a sequence of commands on the device.
"State your business." A static-filled, curt voice came out of the panel.
"We are an envoy of the Klingon-Cardassian Alliance seeking refuge from our travels," Andrul's father answered, confusing his son even further. How long was this planetary journey going to be if they were seeking refuge so soon? What was their ultimate destination?
"Greetings, Gul Taqut," the voice-now considerably friendlier and static-free-replied. "Welcome to the Sacred Chalice."
The huge metal doors swung open with a swooshing sound that was nothing like the grinding of rust or straining of metal Andrul had expected. Even more surprising was the lush garden waiting on the other side. Rows of exotic flower beds bursting with color lined the walkways. Flowing fountains and wooden benches dotted the greenery. Dark green vines climbed the interior walls, which looked much more heavy-duty inside than out. It was an oasis in the middle of a hellhole.
The landing party stepped hastily inside as the doors swooshed shut. An older woman in bright purple robes came hurrying toward them. She appeared Terran, but when she reached them, Andrul saw that her eyes were completely black. His experience with Terrans was limited to their household servants, so he did not know if this was a unique trait. But he was far more intrigued by the kind of business his father could have with some planetary squatters.
"Gul Taqut," the woman said, taking Andrul's father into her arms in a highly inappropriate manner for a servant of the Alliance. "How lovely to see you again. And so soon after your last visit. I suspect that this strapping young man can only be that son of yours you've so often spoken about." Andrul doubted his father had ever said anything more than a passing reference, but the woman was clearly adept at masking true appearances, as the gardens around them indicated.
"Ambassador Troi," his father replied. "This is, indeed, my wastrel of a firstborn."
"Ambassador?" Andrul openly scoffed. The idea of this woman being the ambassador to a dead planet was the most amusing comment his taciturn father had ever made. Which was why it was surprising when his father smacked him across the face.
"Do not be disrespectful, worthless wretch," his father scolded. "Ambassador Troi serves the Alliance more honorably than you ever will."
"Now, now, dear," the woman said as she dared to take Andrul by the arm, leading him through the lush flora. "To be sure, Ambassador is more a ceremonial title. But we discourage acts of violence on the grounds of the Sacred Chalice."
Another set of doors with woven metalworks far more elegant than the first stood on the far end of the gardens. The ancient building they opened into was in far better shape than any they had passed out in the streets. It was likely the one structure on the entire planet that had been kept up.
The clouded glass and metal doors swung inward as they approached, revealing a grand entry hall with a winding staircase. At the foot of the staircase stood a row of scantily clad women. Andrul realized immediately the purpose of this place and why his father had brought him under the precepts of becoming a man.
If he only knew, Andrul thought as their party approached the collection of women. Like the ambassador, each woman appeared Terran, though with the same dark eyes. The sneer on Andrul's face must have been evident, as his father admonished him once again in front of the security officers and the ambassador. "Look down your nose all you want now, boy," he said. "But I assure you, no other house of pleasure in the universe has the uncanny ability to anticipate your most powerful needs and secret desires."
"It is our claim to fame," the woman said, looking uncomfortably into Andrul's eyes.
He did not believe this woman knew what he desired at all. Each of the concubines looked to be more delicate than the next. Certainly, they met his father's tastes for submissive females. Andrul had stumbled across his father's many mistresses on several occasions growing up. They could not have been further from his true desire.
"Something exotic," the woman said, walking past the row of painted women and settling on a mousy, timid little being many years older than Andrul and dressed far more conservatively than the other whores. With her thin frame, he could likely snap her in two with his breath.
The frail creature's eyes went wide in surprise. "Mother?" she asked.
Only more surprised was Andrul's own father. "I was under the impression your daughter did not entertain," he said, a note of anger in his tone. "That is what you have always told me."
"She never has," the ambassador assured him. "But I can think of no other person more fitting for the son of the great Gul Taqut than my Deanna."
That answer seemed to satisfy Taqut, but it didn't relax the woman any. "But, Mother, I-"
"Andrul," the ambassador said, cutting off her own child. "Deanna will show you the pleasures of the Room of Rixx."
Deanna stepped forward, resigned to protest no more. Andrul wanted to reject the frail female, but he knew he was committed to the task. His father would never let him turn down the honor of bedding the child of the proprietress. Though he had no desire for what lay ahead, he did take some pleasure in the idea that he was to receive services that his father had been denied.
"Don't worry," the young woman said softly as they ascended the stairs. "We provide only what the customer desires. As our
parents both indicated, it is our specialty here at the Sacred Chalice."
This time, Andrul laughed out loud, knowing that his father, who was out of earshot, would assume he was getting into the spirit of things. His father was a fool if he really believed that these women could anticipate all that their guests truly wanted.
After a short walk through the upper level, Deanna announced that they had reached the Room of Rixx. She opened the door and hurried him inside. He was about to protest being manhandled by the waif, but the words caught on his tongue when he saw what awaited him. Splayed out on the enormous bed were two huge, muscular Terran men barely covered by thin sheets that left little to the imagination.
Andrul was both enticed by the men and in fear of them. How had these women known? And, more pressingly, would they share this information with his father?
"Beyond desires, it is discretion that we most pride ourselves on providing at the Sacred Chalice," the woman said before crossing the room and slipping out through a second exit.
Deanna Troi let out a frustrated sigh as she made her way through the back corridors of the Sacred Chalice. She found solace in the Spartan decor of the unadorned walls and simple designs of the "employees only" areas. These were her favorite rooms and pathways in the compound of a half-dozen buildings that made up her mother's domain. The grand halls and suites that were open to the visitors to the Chalice had always struck Deanna as cold and impersonal. They were designed to entice, not to comfort. Perfectly fitting for the realm created by her mother.
Lwaxana Troi could be maddening most of the time, but her actions today had been unprecedented. Serving her own daughter up like one of the poor Betazoids who had come to the Chalice in search of sanctuary. The few members of a once-proud race now serving as common-or uncommon-whores. Good thing the clients never really questioned how their pleasure givers knew how to anticipate their most intimate fantasies.
For a moment, Deanna had actually believed that her mother had finally crossed the line. It wasn't until Lwaxana had directed Deanna to take the young Cardie to the Room of Rixx that the younger Troi had clued into the plan. Deanna berated herself for not catching on sooner. The mere fact that Gul Taqut had been directed to touch down at one of the most distant of the landing pads indicated just how low he was in the Cardassian hierarchy. The day Deanna's mother lent her out, it would be for nothing less than the leaders of the regime.
"A fact you should have realized immediately." Her mother's voice entered her thoughts. "I expect you to be more on top of your game in the future. You could have offended our guests by your reluctance to play along."
"I'm sorry, Mother," Deanna thought. She hated that she could not even be alone in her own mind. "I should have figured out your plan."
"You should have," Lwaxana agreed. "The Sacred Chalice is the last refuge of the Betazoid race. It will be yours someday, but I first need to know that you are able to handle the responsibility."
"Yes, Mother," Deanna replied, trying to close her mind to her mother. She'd been practicing the technique for years but had never been able to make much headway.
"Don't you dare shut me out!" Lwaxana's voice screamed in Deanna's head.
"You know I feel this is a violation-"
"Our people have communicated this way for centuries," Lwaxana interrupted her thoughts. "Even the near-extinction of our race could not stop us from being who we are."
"Your race," Deanna reminded her mother. "I am part Terran."
"Now, now, no need to be snippy," her mother replied with a condescending tone. "Just because you do not share in my abilities does not mean I am not a part of you. Now, keep to the off-limits areas. We can't have Gul Taqut stumbling across you while you are supposed to be entertaining his son."
"Yes, Mother, I know my role," Deanna reminded her. "I have to audition the new musician anyway."
"See to it," her mother replied.
"Good-bye, Mother," Deanna replied, shutting her mother out of her mind as best she could. Deanna hated that Lwaxana could access her innermost thoughts at will. It was particularly annoying that Deanna hadn't inherited that particular Betazoid trait. Like her father, Deanna was purely Terran in that respect. She could not tap into any minds. She could not feel others' emotions. It was what had kept her from knowing her mother's plan for the young Cardassian earlier. It was also what probably kept her mother from selling her as she had all the other Betazoids who had come to the Sacred Chalice in search of a safe place to live. Like every other world that fell under Alliance dominion, even a hint of sanctuary came with a price. Deanna's price was to help her mother run her own miniature Betazoid Empire.
Over the years, Deanna had tried to convince herself that their people's lives were better lived in servitude at the Chalice than in hiding in the caves of Betazed. Even those who attempted to pass as Terran only did so as slaves. Life at the Chalice consisted of luxury accommodations, fabulous gifts from the patrons, and culinary delights not experienced in most of the quadrant. All that was asked in exchange was to rent out their bodies in one-hour increments.
But they were safe. Nowhere else in the galaxy could a servant anticipate your most secret dreams the way the women and men at the Sacred Chalice could. Even the highest-ranking officials of the Klingon-Cardassian Alliance never bothered to question the way they were able to guess even the most intimate fantasies. Likewise, Deanna had been able to ignore her own questions about whether or not this was the life she wanted to lead. She'd seen what making waves had done to the rest of her family. Her mother had ensured that she and Deanna would be safe. That was all that mattered.
Deanna entered her office, where she found an attractive older man waiting for her. Though she had known to expect the Terran, she was still caught short by the sight of him. He looked nothing like her own father, but there was something about him-about the way he regarded her when she entered-that brought back a flood of memories of the man who had abandoned her many years ago. The memories were so overwhelming that she threw a hand out to the wall to steady herself.
The man was out of his seat in a shot, coming to her side. "Are you okay, Miss?" he asked, with a slight accent that was unfamiliar to her. No surprise, as she'd met only a handful of Terrans in her lifetime.
"Sorry," she said, taking his hand as he led her to the chair. "I don't know what..." She trailed off, still overwhelmed by thoughts of her father.
"Would you like some water?" he asked. Without waiting for an answer, he poured her a glass from the filled pitcher she kept in her office. She accepted it gratefully and took a sip of the cool water while allowing her mind to clear.
"Thank you," she said as he sat in the chair facing her. "That was...unusual."
"Not really," the man said lightly. "Women typically swoon when they see me. Jean-Luc Picard. Most people call me Luc."
She smiled at his comment about the swooning and took the calloused hand that he offered her. The man had a firm grip and was a bit more weathered overall than the musicians they'd hired in the past. "Deanna," she said as they shook. "The Sacred Chalice is my mother's enterprise."
"Yes, the indomitable Lwaxana Troi," Luc replied. "My former patron, Gul Madred, visited your fine establishment on occasion."
"Spoke highly of us?" Deanna asked. She did not recall any Cardassians named Madred on the guest list, but that didn't mean anything. They saw so many clients. And her mother dealt with the bulk of them.
"Madred never spoke highly of anyone but himself," Luc replied. "May he rest in peace."
Deanna caught no small amount of sarcasm in that statement and decided to move off the subject. "And you're Terran?"
"Is that a problem?" Luc asked. His expression conveyed that he was worried about his human status being an issue, but something in his eyes suggested that he was not truly concerned. In truth, he seemed surprisingly calm for the interview, considering the work options that awaited a Terran man outside the Chalice. Deanna felt a surprising amount of confidence ra
diating from the man. She chalked it up to his charm, since she did not share any of her mother's empathic abilities.