"The TaskMaster's Beginnings"

as recalled by Selek

as recorded in the Hall of Records

Selek was working at his computer in the Astrophysics Department of the prestigious Vulcan Science Academy. He had been a professor for only 3 years, a very short time for the Academy. The comm unit on his desk sounded. Selek looked over and was prepared to ignore it until he saw where the communication was originating. It was his uncle, Sarek. His uncle rarely called him unless it was of importance. Silek, Sarek's brother and Selek's father, was an archeologist who worked in the Hydrilla system and had no time to raise a son. His mother was a Starfleet officer who had died in the line of duty, leaving Selek an orphan effectively. Sarek and Amanda raised him from the time he was 6 years old along with Spock, who was 14 at the time.

Selek reached for the comm unit. Sarek's velvety voice said, "I wish to speak to you at your earliest convenience about a matter of importance. When can you come to my residence?"

Selek answered, "I will come immediately. Which residence are you at, the one in Gol province, or the one in ShiKahr?"

"I'm in Gol. Meet me here in 15 minutes." With that, Sarek signed off, his message delivered.

Selek felt a little trepidation as he shut off his computer and made his way to the transporter station at the Academy. What could he possibly want that would require me to leave my office in the middle of the workday?

***********************

Selek arrived at the imposing ancestral estate in the Gol province, not far from Mt. Seleya. He always felt uneasy coming to the Family Estate. No one really lived there anymore. His grandmother, T'Pau was probably the closest thing to a permanent resident there, but only because she was Eldest Mother of the House of Surak, Sarek being Eldest Male. Skonn, T'Pau's mate and Sarek's father had died some time earlier. Selek entered the imposing dwelling and was shown to the room Sarek was in.

When he entered, Sarek turned and motioned to Selek to sit down. "I have to tell you something. Please sit down. There is a tradition within the House of Surak that has been handed down from generation to generation. I now have to relay that information to you. This House is well know for it's diplomatic duties, both on Vulcan and in the Federation. What is not as well known, is there is another duty for which this House is noted for. That duty is to be the TaskMaster of a group of talented authors, of all species, but mainly, Human, Vulcan and even Romulan, who write a specific kind of prose. It is called TrekSmut. The former TaskMaster, Soldar, died very recently, and this position cannot be vacant for much longer. It is up to me, as Eldest Male, to fill it. Naturally, it would have gone to Spock, but he can't fulfill both his duty to Starfleet and to the authors. I have selected you to be the next TaskMaster.

"The posting has it's source on Earth. Be prepared to leave within the ten-day. The Science Academy has been informed by T'Pau and are now in the process of filling your now vacant position. I wish you all success. Here is a list of duties. Read them on the way to your new home. Your workshop is not far from the Vulcan Embassy. Please, feel free to visit Amanda and me anytime your duties permit." Sarek stood solemnly, signaling the end of the meeting. "May you live long and prosper."

********

The room was quiet. No one was present for the moment and it was very early in the day. According to the posted schedule the kitausu were eating. The noise from the eating hall could be heard even here. Talking, laughter, dishes being stacked and the bustle of activities that some thirty odd females would make.

The information of the TaskMaster's arrival had also been posted. He nodded once, relieved that this would not come as a shock.

He continued to survey his new surroundings. Ancient caves had been used to house the kitausu and their sleeping quarters. The large and interesting library that was housed in the base of the stone structure, each room in it held volumes. Chairs, couches, pillows and even beds had been placed in a number of locations. On arriving, he had been impressed by the view as he stood on the bridge, the only access to the unique business.

He remembered looking at his uncle, Sarek, and wondering if he was actually being truthful concerning this position.

"The old Master had died. Old age and a lifetime of pleasures were his legacy. His passion for such writings began at an early age. He obtained the land, the structure and with only two others began this clandestine operation." Sarek had taken a hand bound book down from his shelf and offered it to Selek. "I have been privileged to own one of his creations. You have the... interest to continue after him."

Selek recalled the interesting shape to the keys that he was given. The phallus shape was most appropriate when he discovered the locking mechanism. Each door had a shape or size that corresponded to one of the 'keys' on the ring. The doors slid open with a soft sigh.

There was movement behind him and he turned. He bowed his head to the gathering. All were female, a variety of ages but most of them younger. One, wearing a deep green robe, stepped forward.

He bowed his head again.

She pushed back the hood that hid her identity, then she bowed her head. "Welcome, TaskMaster, your arrival has been anticipated. The kitausu-divinsu of the T'Khasian Tauk are here to serve." She bowed her head again then moved back into the crowd.

"I wish to get to know each of you. The TaskMaster left his precise records and they will be continued." He motioned to the others that were robed as he was but without his jeweled adornments. "This is Vorik and Taurik. They will be here to assist me."

A deep loud gong sounded and the writers moved to their respective positions and began to work. The 'spokesperson' stepped towards him. "You will find your rhythm in all of this shortly, S'haile Selek. I trust that your participation will be a satisfying one."

"I am looking forward to it. My only desire is to fulfil those expectations." He had felt a soothing of his tensions as he spoke to this woman.

"There are the results of yesterdays work on your desk and your robes of office hang nearby." She indicated the direction of his row of offices.

"Then I suppose I should get to work as well?" He left the dark-haired female and headed for his office. Everything was as she had said... even to the robes. Soft silky fabric lined the rough robes; the fastenings were few yet he found no evidence of missing ones. He found the list of names and the writings in the old Taskmaster's hand that gave him direction.

He read through the list. His eyebrow raised at the 'job description' he held. "Most interesting. Most interesting indeed." He looked up as he sensed another entering his office. "Vorik?"

"Master Selek, have you read the list yet?"

"Just going through it now."

Vorik stated with amusement. "Is it a wonder he kept this to himself?"

Taurik appeared in the doorway as well, holding the list in his hands. He looked from one to the other. "Is it any wonder that he lived 346 years?"

Selek's eyebrow lifted. "It is a wonder that he was not worn out entirely long ago."

"Perhaps that is how he died..." Vorik observed. "He simply wore it out."

Taurik grinned at his brother. "An interesting death. One I would be more than pleased to attempt to surpass."

Selek had been privy to the personal accountings of the Ancient TaskMaster. "Remember to pace yourselves."

"Yes, S'haile." They answered in unison.

Selek waved them off. "Now go find some work to do... I have mine." He picked up the first of the slates and dropped it in. He sighed then slipped it out, noted the name and called this writer into his office. He handed her the slate. "Double spaced after paragraphs, no indentations and use the spellchecker."

"Yes, TaskMaster." Her blonde head bowed then she left.

He dropped another into the viewer. He smiles. "I believe I will enjoy this position." He re-read the paragraph and thought about it. His eyebrow lifted. "That is a physical impossibility... at least I believe it is?" He sat back considering the issue then decided that if this writer could manage to demonstrate this, he would allow it. "Vorik, find this Salatrel and bring her in. I have some work for you also."

"Yes S'haile."

And the work continues still.....

Finis

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