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The Whore and the Captain 1 (TNG)
All stories on this web site are purely FICTIONAL. The people depicted within these stories only exist in someone's IMAGINATION. Any resemblence between anyone depicted in these stories and any real person, living or dead, is an incredible COINCIDENCE too bizarre to be believed. If you think that you or someone you know is depicted in one of these stories it's only because you're a twisted perverted little fucker who sees conspiracies and plots where none exist. You probably suspect that your own MOTHER had sex with ALIENS and COWS and stuff. Well, she didn't. It's all in your head. Now take your tranquilizers and RELAX.
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The Whore and the Captain: Part 1
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-- ROME A.D. 2370 --
"Over here, Jean-Luc, I have found an old sign."
Professor Vicelius was a distinguished elderly gentleman who wore
one of those big-brim hats that archaeologists love. He handed
over a broken piece of inscribed stone to Picard, who cleaned off
the dirt with a small brush.
"Yes," Picard said, examining the marble, "it does appear to be a
marker of some kind. You are the Latin expert, Professor, can you
translate the inscription?"
The Professor examined the piece closely, "It says Domus
Matrillae, The House of Matrilla. Interesting..."
The enterprise was in orbit around earth while several senior
officers attended training sessions run by Starfleet's Recreation
Department. Picard, very in character, chose an archaeology
seminar held in Rome. It was amazing to him that, after hundreds
of years of excavations in this eternal city, there were still
artifacts to be found. Professor Vicelius was an old friend as
well as an eminent classical archaeologist. Picard had found this
trip to be thoroughly relaxing and educational, so far.
"Follow me," Professor Vicelius beckoned, "I want to
show you something really unique. We are on the cutting edge of
archaeological technology."
Picard and Dr. Vicelius walked over the far side of the dig.
Two graduate students were operating a machine that resembled
a large phaser canon. Around the periphery of the area mechanical
hooks were moving in and out of the generated beam. It
appeared that objects were being pulled from nowhere.
"This instrument, Jean-Luc, is the first wormhole generator to be
used specifically for retrieving archaeological artifacts. We
actually pull objects out of space-time. Of course, this is still
experimental, but it is an wonderful feeling to hold an actual pot
instead of a potsherd."
Picard was both impressed and confused. "Doctor, how can you just
reach in and take things out of time? What if you grab hold of
something that shouldn?t be displaced?"
Dr. Vicelius shook his head, "Don't worry. We're not changing
space-time. We have a method of looking before we leap. See
those goggles? Go take a peek, you'll be astounded."
Picard walked over to a viewscope being used by a student. The
young man reluctantly gave up his position to the Captain, who
after a few seconds exclaimed, "Incredible, I wonder..."
He never finished his sentence. A huge flash occurred by
the wormhole generator. The smoke cleared quickly, but Picard had
disappeared.
-- ROME A.D. 31 --
"Quis est, Matrilla?"
<Who is it, Matrilla?>
"Nescio, Miryam. Est vir calvus, inustitate vestitus."
<I don?t know, Miryam. He?s a bald man in
strange clothes.>
"Estne mortuus?"
<Is he dead?>
"Non credo."
<I don't think so.>
Matrilla and Miryam both poked at Picard with their fingers trying
to get a reaction. Matrilla was the older of the two; a corpulent
matron with a belly so pendulous that her dirty blue stola was
"decincta" <unbelted> as if she were pregnant. Miryam, in sharp
contrast, was a lovely young woman with dark Mediterranean
coloring. Her brown eyes gleamed with fire and a wisdom far
beyond her years. She also was the most popular whore in
Matrilla?s brothel.
Miryam bent close to Picard and shook his head, hoping to wake
him. She was successful. Picard started coughing and moaning,
and his eyes fluttered. Matrilla was relieved that she would not
have to explain a strange dead man to the authorities. Any
suspicious activity might cause her brothel license to be revoked.
She called in one of the eunuchs to help move Picard to a couch.
Picard had regained some consciousness. His vision was blurry and
he was extremely weak, but he was aware of being carried from the
floor to some kind of bed or couch. He only vaguely remembered
where he had been before everything went blank. Faint voices were
speaking a language that was unintelligible to him, yet somehow
familiar. As more of his vision came back, he saw he was in a
small room with several pieces of exotic furniture and walls
painted with large friezes. He recognized it as Roman and
wondered if this was an archaeologist?s dream, or more likely,
nightmare.
A lovely young woman bent over him. She looked Middle-Eastern
but was speaking a language that he finally recognized to be
Latin.
"Tibine est nomen? tuum nomen?" <What is your name?>
His first instinct was to reach for the tricorder but he stopped
himself. A special version of the universal translator that
contained all known earth languages, past and present, had been
downloaded into it. This was often used by archaeologists during
excavations. He was reluctant to activate it while this woman was
present but the question being asked was clear, especially to a
native speaker of a romance language. Given the situation,
"Picard" seemed a quite adequate response.
"Peeecaaaduh," the young woman repeated, imitating what to her was
a very odd sounding name.
Picard passed out again and the two women decided it would be best
to remove his unusual clothing. He was also carrying some unique
objects that they could not identify. Since they were professional
prostitutes, not thieves, they gently undressed him and placed his
belongings on another couch.
Matrilla gestured to Miryam that they should quietly leave the
room. The man needed to recover in peace.
Outside the room Matrilla instructed Miryam,
"Until I decide what to do with this stranger, Miryam, I am making
it your job to take good care of him. And don?t annoy him with
questions. He is obviously someone of wealth and nobility. Did
you notice his hands, his skin, his teeth..."
"His big cock," Miryam interjected, grinning mischievously and
holding up two hands to mark the length.
"Miryam, you really are a wanton she-wolf."
"Of course, Matrilla," Miryam answered back saucily, "why else
would I be here in this she-wolf den? But I love my work, and it
will be my pleasure to take care of Picard. hahahahaha." Miryam
laughed even louder at the old woman?s feigned outrage.
Matrilla sometimes thought that Miryam enjoyed her work too much.
If she didn't know that Miryam was a former Judean slave, Matrilla
would have suspected her of being one of those rich Patrician
women who worked the brothels in disguise to make up for a
impotent husband. She wondered how a pretty young woman like
Miryam could get such tremendous pleasure from fucking strange
men. "But," she thought to herself, "it keeps the clientele
coming back."
************
Picard woke up with an agonizing headache and feeling of nausea.
He slowly recalled what had happened, but hoped it would turn out
to be a huge holodeck joke that some member of his crew had
orchestrated.
"Computer, end program."
Nothing happened. Picard wondered if they had rigged the computer
not to respond to his voice. He was not appreciating the joke.
"Computer, this is Captain Jean-Luc Picard. End holodeck program
immediately."
Still nothing changed. Picard tried to stand up but waves of
dizziness caused him to sit down again. The realization was
settling in that the holodeck was not responsible for his
predicament.
As he slowly regained his stability, he noticed that he was
completely naked. This panicked him, not so much from modesty,
but because his comm badge and tricorder were now gone along with
his pants and shirt. He tried to calm down, reasoning with
himself that the clothes were probably somewhere within the
chamber. He turned and saw his clothes and equipment neatly
placed on another couch in the corner of the room. As he walked
over to retrieve them he heard a voice from behind him.
"Picard, valesne maius?" <are you feeling better?>
He turned and saw the same young woman that had leaned over him
when he first woke up. She was standing in the doorway staring at
him and babbling away in Latin. He grabbed the comm badge with
his left hand and initialized the translator, leaving the
tricorder on the couch since he had no pockets or belt.
"Picard, didn't you hear me? Are you feeling better?"
She spoke to this naked man with a casualness that only a whore
could have. Naked men were an everyday occurrence for Miryam,
although this one was much better looking than most she had seen.
She hoped he would not make her wait long; she was already wet and
throbbing for him.
"Yes, thank you, I am much improved," he said in a voice that
betrayed his discomfort. He was awkwardly trying to get dressed
as fast as possible, a task made more difficult by the need to
keep hold of his comm badge.
Miryam walked over and interrupted his dressing, grabbing his
shirt out of his hands in a very matter-of-fact way.
"The britches and undergarments are all right. They only make you
look like a foreigner. But this small tunic will have to be
replaced. It is too unusual. You will draw unnecessary attention
to yourself. I have brought you something more suitable."
She threw his shirt in the corner and replaced it with a white
tunic and sash. Without being asked, she helped him slip it on,
letting her hands fondle and caress him in the process. Picard
saw the wisdom in this maneuver and made no attempt to argue with
her. He was a little surprised at the way she touched him, but
she had given him good advice and he attributed her actions to
cultural differences. He still did not know where he was or who
this woman was, but he decided to be cautious and wait a bit
before interrogating anyone.
"Thank you. I concur completely with your observations. I insist,
though, on wearing this pin and carrying this instrument."
She nodded approval without questioning and he placed the comm
badge on the tunic and the tricorder in the belt. Picard took a
deep breath and tried to relax.
"And by the way," he said, "you have the advantage. You know my
name; I don?t know yours."
She smiled warmly at him, "They call me Miryam."
**********
Miryam arranged for a discreet male slave to attend to the
stranger's personal needs and help him clean up. Later Otho,
Picard's new 'valet', led him into a kitchen area where Miryam was
waiting with some food. As he and Miryam sat together eating
bread and fruit, Picard saw this as an opportunity to get some
answers. He could guess where he was, but had no clue WHEN he
was. He considered for a moment how best to construct his
question so as not to alarm Miryam or give her too much
information. Disturbances in time were serious; he had to be
careful not to reveal anything concerning future events.
It seemed best to feign partial amnesia resulting from a pretended
head wound; that way he could avoid answering questions. Not that
anyone was asking.
"Miryam, a blow to my head has made me forget some things. Can
you tell me where I am? How did I get here?"
"We found you unconscious in that other room. I don't know how you
got there. I was hoping you would tell me."
"You say 'WE'? Who else knows about me?"
"Well, WE all know about you now," she said as she gave him an
affectionate pat on the knee, "but it was Matrilla and I who found
you. Matrilla is the old woman who runs this brothel and watches
over the girls here."
Picard couldn?t resist letting a small grin slip out. A brothel
explained the many strange things about this place. Actually, he
thought he was very lucky to have been found unconscious in a
brothel, rather than inside a prison or the middle of a market-
place. At least he would be fairly unnoticed here.
"I am assuming that this is Rome. At least that's where I was
before I fainted. Unfortunately, I don't remember exactly where I
lived or much about my life prior to the accident."
"Yes, Picard," she said shaking her head at his misfortune, "you
are still in Rome, just south of the Forum along the main road."
Picard thought for a moment how best to ask the year. This was
not going to be easy.
"Miryam, forgive this ridiculous question, but I must know -- who
is in charge of the city now?"
"Who is in charge? That is a strange question, Picard. I'm not
even sure what you mean. But if that's your way of asking who is
the Emperor, I will tell you it is still that monster Tiberius.
Thank God he has chosen to live in Capri, far away from here. You
must have hit your head very hard if you were able to forget
Tiberius!"
She reached out and stroked his leg with two fingers; it was the
act of a person offering comfort. Picard responded to the
friendship she was offering. He briefly returned her touch by
placing a hand on her shoulder, somewhat embarrassed by this
almost involuntary gesture. That brief exchange lasted only a few
seconds, interrupted by Otho bringing in some wine.
Picard had gotten the answers he needed. He also had a gut feeling
that this woman Miryam was quite intelligent and perceptive, and
he would have to be very careful. The irony of the situation was
not lost on him. As an amateur archaeologist he should be enjoying
every second of being here, but he was not thrilled about the
possibility of never getting home.
They sat silently - eating, relaxing, and observing each other.
Miryam was as perceptive as Picard had feared. She wondered if he
really expected she would not notice that his lips were speaking a
different language than her ears were hearing. She had deduced
almost immediately that the instrument on his belt, that he was so
protective of, was the cause of this strange phenomenon. Like
most intelligent people living in the Roman world, she relied less
on superstition and more on pragmatic reasoning. To her, Picard
was not a sorcerer or a god but someone who possessed an
incredible bag of tricks.
She watched him carefully as they sat without talking.
This Picard certainly was a very unusual man, but being a
prostitute in Rome had introduced her to many bizarre people and
bizarre behaviors. The Emperor Tiberius had invented such
perverted practices that the common people complained there were
no words in Latin to describe them. Miryam knew instinctively,
however, that Picard was not one of those twisted, dangerous
people that roamed the city streets. She sensed his caring and
intelligence.
While Miryam was mentally checking him over, Picard was busy
mulling over in his mind how to begin searching for a way home.
The wormhole that had transported him here was apparently no
longer in that small room and might have moved entirely out of the
building.
He knew he would have to leave Matrilla's eventually to get some
answers, and was less than comfortable about his tricorder hanging
in plain site.
Picard broke the brief silence. "I need something to wear over
this tunic that will cover my equipment. It is very valuable and
might attract thieves."
Responding to that comment, Miryam startled Picard by suddenly
jumping at him, knocking him to the floor. He was not prepared for
resistance as she straddled him and laughed in his face. It was
an affectionate maneuver, though, and Picard smiled up at her.
In the midst of her giggling she managed a few sentences.
"Picard, you are a moron! What barbarian land do you come from -
where people are such idiots? Do you think I haven?t noticed that
this object you carry speaks Latin for you!"
She grabbed the tricorder out of his belt and waved it over his
head, teasing him to get it back.
"Does it speak Hebrew also?" she asked playfully, holding the
tricorder up to her mouth.
"shalom, hashem shelee Miryam...".
She was thoroughly enjoying herself. It was not often she got to
see or do anything as intriguing as what this strange man offered.
"And what are these little lights inside? And what kind of
material is the casing made of?"
Picard just stared at her in total shock.
"Don?t worry," she said pinching his cheek and returning the
tricorder to his belt, "I am not interested in your little toy.
I won?t tell anyone about it. You have nothing to fear from me."
Before he could utter a word, she bent down and kissed him
forcefully, pushing her tongue into his mouth.
--- end Part 1 ---
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