Sand and Stars

by Diane Duane

  He didn’t try to kid himself—Stockholm Syndrome was setting in badly, at least on his side. He wasn’t sure about Valdyr.

  Between the Klingon books and his conversations with Valdyr, he ended up not needing her help in translating the odd term he’d heard her uncle speak. He’d found it easily enough in Shakespeare.The Merchant of Venice. Shylock used it.Joy’ meant torture, and, as Peter already knew,Be’ meant woman, or female. Torture by females was the rough translation.

  Be’joy’referred to a specific, ritualistic torture performed on prisoners of war…by Klingon women.

  Another subject they might never be able to discuss.So, tell me, Valdyr, when you perform the be’joy’, what do you think you’ll use first? The hot irons, the electronic stunner, or will you begin by flaying my flesh? Anyone taking any bets on how long I’ll last? And to think he’d once been worried about theKobayashi Maru!

  He folded his hand in defeat and slipped it through the food slot. “Are you sure you’ve taught meall the rules of this game?” Peter grinned ruefully as her serious expression assured him that anything less would be dishonorable. “Well, in that case, you’ll have to send me to Rura Penthe to dig those crystals.”

  Valdyr’s dark eyes sparkled indignantly. “Never! That is a place where only the worst criminals go.”

  “Like my Uncle Jim and Dr. McCoy?” he asked dryly. “They’re really desperate characters, both of them.” He was sorry the minute he’d said it. They had a truce going, and now he’d thrown out a volley.

  The Klingon woman’s eyes dropped. “I know they were innocent of assassinating Chancellor Gorkon,” she said, carefully shuffling the deck, then dealing cards through the food slot beneath the observation panel. “But that does not mean that your uncle never murdered a Klingon.”

  “Hekilled Kruge, yes, but he didn’tmurder him,” the cadet insisted. “Kruge beamed down to kill Kirk because he wanted revenge for his lost crew. They were fighting on the edge of a precipice, as the Genesis planet was breaking up beneath their feet. A big chunk of rock gave way beneath Kruge, and he went over the cliff. Jim caught his hand to save him, but Kruge tried to yank him over, too. My uncle got mad and let him drop.”

  “Let him?” Valdyr said, skeptically.

  Peter grimaced. “It was self-defense! Kruge would have killed both of them, otherwise!”

  “Kamarag says that Kirk lured Kruge down to that world just as it was breaking up, then abandoned him to die,” Valdyr said.

  Young Kirk shook his head. “James T. Kirk doesn’t operate that way. If you knew him, you’d believe me.” They continued the game in silence for a few moments before Peter spoke again. “There’s one thing I still don’t understand, Valdyr.”

  “What is that?”

  “It’s been three years since Kruge died. Why did your uncle wait so long? Why decide to take revengenow? ”

  The young woman stared at her cards, but Peter knew well enough that she’d already planned out her moves. Finally, she said, “At first he thought the government would support him in his quest for vengeance. But when Praxis exploded, moderate voices in the councils realized that we would need the help of the Federation to survive.” Valdyr examined her hand. “After that, he did not speak of Kirk for a long time. My uncle…has always been loyal to his government. But suddenly, a few weeks ago…” She sighed and moved a card. “…he changed. One day, revenge was all Kamarag could think of, speak of…plan for. Vengeance, and Kirk’s death. He said that if the government would not support him, he would act on his own.”

  “Which is why I’m here,” Peter said, and she nodded. “What caused him to change so suddenly?” he wondered aloud.

  “I do not know,” Valdyr said. “I only know that he is my uncle, the head of my family, and I must be loyal to him.” She looked up at him. “Are you going to place a bet, Pityr?”

  They placed their bets, then upped the ante several times. Peter studied Valdyr, then finally said, “Your loyalty to your uncle includes torturing me, doesn’t it?” That was more than a volley, he realized. He’d just dropped a matter/antimatter bomb into their conversation.

  Her eyes met his unflinchingly. “If the choice were mine…none of this would be happening. I am sorry, Pityr.”

  They said nothing for a few minutes, then continued the game, but his heart wasn’t in it. He was not surprised when she beat him again. “I quit!” the human groused, struggling to keep the bitterness out of his voice. He tossed his cards back into the slot. “Life isn’t fair. I’ve been kidnapped, held prisoner, and now my jailer turns out to be a beautiful woman who’s acard shark to boot.” He’d used the current English idiom, as he knew of no Klingon one that was appropriate.

  Valdyr glanced up at him, obviously startled. “You called me…what did you call me?”

  “Beautiful and a card shark,” Peter said levelly. “Which term didn’t you understand?”

  “What is this…card shark?”

  “A shark is an Earth animal, a huge fish…you know, fish?” He racked his brain for the Klingon word. “An animal that swims in the sea, a dangerous predator, you know?”

  “Oh!” she cried. “You mean,norgh? ”

  “Yeah,norgh. You’re like that when you play cards. Understand?”

  She thought it over, then gave a soft snort of derisive laughter. “What you mean is that, since I am a woman and I beat you always, I must be ruthless. I thought Earth males treated their females equally!”

  “We do,” Peter protested. Valdyr just looked at him, her expression clearly distrustful. “Really, we do,” he insisted, holding up his hand as if under oath. “Aren’t Klingon women treated equally?” He felt guilty for asking, since he already knew the truth.

  “No,” Valdyr admitted. “The men have always held the…outward power. If women want power, they must find a man to work through, advise him, push him, make him the…the…” She groped, at a loss for a suitable term.

  “A figurehead?” suggested Peter in English.

  Valdyr quickly accessed the English word on her portable comm link, then nodded. “Exactly,” she said.

  “Well, what about Chancellor Azetbur? She’s a woman.”

  Valdyr’s eyes sparkled. “She is special. Her father made the other members of the High Council promise to uphold her as his successor, and they have done so. The people support her…but the warriors’ code is difficult to change.”

  Peter fixed her with an intent stare. “What aboutyou, Valdyr? What would you like to do with your life?”

  She dropped her eyes. “I…have dreams.”

  “Of what?”

  “When I was small,” she said, “I wanted to be a warrior. It is hard for women to do…but possible. But I was sickly. When I realized I had attained my full size, I…knew I could never be strong enough to be a warrior, no matter how I studied.”

  “Even so, you learned to fight.”

  She nodded. “And I am good with a knife,” she said, with a touch of pride. “But, I am too small to truly defend myself against another Klingon with nothing more than my hands.”

  She’d said that offhandedly, so he wouldn’t feel insulted. “So you can’t be a warrior. What’s next?”

  She glanced around, as if suddenly concerned that they might be overheard. “I hoped to become a diplomat, like my uncle.”

  “Are women allowed to be diplomats?”

  “There is no law against it.”

  Peter got up off his stool, paced the cell a few times. He still ached, but he was feeling much better. “That’s funny that you should say that,” he admitted. “I thought about shifting to a career in the Federation diplomatic corps myself.”

  She cocked her head, her long braid swinging. He found himself suddenly wondering what that massive mane might look like all undone. “You did?” she asked.

  He nodded. “That’s why I studied Klingonese and Romulan even before the Academy.”

  “Then why did you change?”

  “I’m not sure
anymore,” he said, halting and staring at her, his brow furrowed. “I guess Command was what everyone expected me to do.”

  “Everyone expectsme to marry Karg and spend my time running a household,” Valdyr said dryly.

  Peter made a face at that, and Valdyr almost smiled. “I think,” she said, “we should try very hard to do what it is we want to do, not what we are expected to do!”

  “I agree!” Peter said, flashing her a smile. Then, remembering who he was, and where, and what would soon be happening to him, he sobered abruptly. They did not speak of the coming torture, but it sat there between them.

  Valdyr chewed on her lower lip, her sharp, slightly crooked teeth scoring the soft flesh. “Pityr,” she said softly, “please believe me. This is not something I wish to do. I…have no more control over this than you have.”

  Peter sank back onto his stool, his shoulders slumping. “Your uncle is using me to capture and kill my uncle, Valdyr. What kind ofhonor can Kamarag gain out of this?”

  She drew a quavering breath, shaking her head. In the smallest voice she admitted, “There is nothing about honor in any of this. There will be nothing for our family when it is over but shame.”

  Peter came over to the observation panel, reached through the slot as far as he could, and just managed to brush the flesh of her arm with the tip of his forefinger. She leapt back, her knife instantly in her hand. “What—?”

  “I’malive, Valdyr, just like you,” Peter said. “Remember when you first gave me water? You saved my life with that water. Why did you do that, when you knew what was facing me? When you knew whatyou would soon be doing to me?”

  She tightened her jaw and remained silent, staring at his fingers as though they were some bizarre life-form.

  “You gave me water…and I held your hands. Remember? They were sowarm, your hands, so much warmer than mine. I was pretty shocky, all my blood going to my injuries…but I’m warm now, Valdyr, just like you. I’m alive. Feel. Feel how warm I am. Go on…. ”

  Hesitantly, she approached the panel as if mesmerized, then put out her hand, brushed his fingertips with hers. His skin tingled where she touched him. Her body temperature was slightly higher than his, although nowhere near as high as a Vulcan’s. “See?” Peter said, softly. “Warm. Alive. Just like you. And I want tostay alive!”

  She was staring down at his hand, wide-eyed, as though she’d never seen it before.

  “Can you really do it, Valdyr?” he whispered, as he closed his fingers around her long, elegant ones. “Can you do this thing that has no honor in it, just because your uncle wants you to? Can you really do this…to me?”

  She shuddered and closed her eyes. With a surprising surge of strength she clasped his hand so powerfully, her nails scored his palm, drawing blood. Then she murmured, “Yes.”

  What an idiot you are, mister!he thought bitterly.

  Valdyr’s face was flushed, her eyes bright with…regret? Was it really?

  Yes,Peter decided.It really is….

  “I don’t want to die,” he said, gazing at her through the panel. “Valdyr, I especially don’t want to die at your hands.” He gripped her just as tightly as she gripped him. “I don’t want my uncle to die either. And more than that…I don’t want the peace our people are only now working out to crumble…. You know that’s what will happen when all this comes to light.”

  She nodded grimly, raising her eyes to his.

  “And I don’t want to see you give up your dreams. Don’t lose all the honor you’ve worked so hard to gain. I couldn’t bear to know that my death would take that from you.” He prayed she would not think his speech that of a self-serving coward willing to say anything to save his life. He was saying nothing but the plain truth.

  “Valdyr,” he whispered, “I’ve come to really care about you. As a person of honor…of dignity…and of great strength.”

  She looked down, staring at their joined hands, saw their commingled blood dripping onto the slot. With a choked, inarticulate sound, she yanked her hand away, then turned abruptly and bolted down the corridor, racing as though a demon was on her heels.

  Peter reined in his own emotions as he pulled his abandoned hand back inside his cell. He stared at the crescent-shaped wounds on his palm, still oozing blood. He must’ve cut her as well, as puce-colored liquid mingled with red in his palm. He made a fist, holding their blood inside, and fought back the demons of his own fear.

  As Wing Commander Taryn studied the chessboard before him, one slanting eyebrow went up in pleased surprise. “You are improving,” he remarked, considering his options and finding they were limited.

  His opponent was a slender young woman with delicate, almost elfin features that were emphasized by her cropped black hair and elegantly pointed ears. Her name was Savel, and she was twenty-two Standard years old. Her Vulcan parents had been killed while trying to escape when Savel was a baby; she did not remember them at all. The young woman had lived in a government-operated creche until Taryn had taken her into his household at the age of five. The commander regarded her as an adopted daughter, and had raised her with the same advantages that he had bestowed upon his two sons.

  “A very interesting gambit,” Taryn conceded. “Not one I ever taught you. Where did you learn it?”

  Savel’s black eyes sparkled with pleasure. “While I was with you at Khitomer, Ambassador Sarek’s aide challenged me to a game. Soran won, using this very tactic.”

  Taryn stiffened in his chair. “You played chess with Ambassador Sarek’s aide?”

  Now it was Savel’s turn to tense. “Yes,” she admitted. “You did not forbid that,Vadi.” The word meant “uncle” in Romulan, which Savel spoke as fluently as she did Vulcan. “What harm could that do?”

  “A great deal,” Taryn said, sternly. The commander leaned forward in his seat, his dark eyes holding hers. “What if I had been forced to come searching for you, and encountered Sarek? I told you, he suspects us. If we had met face-to-face…there is no telling what he might have done. He has already unmasked one of us, and for that reason I was at great pains during Khitomer to stay out of the ambassador’s way. You knew that, Savel.”

  The young woman hung her head. “Yes, I knew. But Soran was…very pleasant to me. I found our conversation enjoyable. I do not often get the chance to speak with someone near my own age,Vadi.”

  Taryn sighed. “I know,” he said. “But, Savel…you took an unnecessary risk. We are close to the completion of our plan, within grasp of our goal…. ”

  Now it was the woman’s turn to whisper, “I know.” She gazed at him with a touch of remorse plain to read in her dark eyes. As she had been raised by Romulans, her control was not as great as a native-born Vulcan’s. “Forgive me,Vadi.”

  “Very well. As long as you will promise not to take such a chance again.”

  “I promise,” Savel said.“Vadi… it is still your move.”

  “So it is.” Taryn studied the chessboard, then made one of the two moves possible to him. Savel’s mouth twitched as she moved a piece of her own, so quickly that Taryn knew he had fallen into her trap…for a trap it was. The commander sighed, frowning, but inwardly he felt a wash of pleasure at her growing skill as he said, “I see it now…mate in two.” With a near-bow of respect, he ceremoniously knocked over his king as a sign of defeat. Though losing to Sarek always rankled him, losing to Savel, whom he had taught himself, was almost pleasurable.

  Taryn sat back in the overstuffed armchair in his comfortable study, with its shelves of data spindles, its ancient bas-reliefs and weapons hanging on the walls, and the glow from the fire-box chasing the last vestige of chill from the air. It was winter on Freelan, and even here, in the northern equatorial region, frost and snow were common during these long, dark months.

  Taryn thought with longing of times he had lived on Romulus, in a small house on an ancient, winding street. The wind there was warm, even during the brief rainy season…a far contrast to the bitter gales that raged at night a
round his dome-shaped house on Freelan.

  “Have you heard any news of Kamarag?” Savel asked. “Will we need to encounter him again?”

  “I do not know,” Taryn said. “The reports I have received tell me that he has had Captain Kirk’s nephew kidnapped, and that he has demanded that Kirk exchange himself for the young man. Kamarag has good reason to hate Kirk, and he has sworn a blood oath to avenge his young protégé, Kruge. So it is possible that he will require no further prodding.”

  Savel nodded. “There was a strong core of hate in him before I ever touched his mind,” she said. “Who is monitoring him now?”

  “No one, at the moment,” Taryn replied. “Darus was, for a time, but he has now been detailed to Earth. There is a major trade conference there, and he and Stavin were needed to attend.”

  She nodded. “It is possible we may have to visit Kamarag again. The ambassador may balk at actually executing Kirk, knowing that if he does that, he will surely be declared a traitor, once his actions are known to Azetbur and her councillors.”

  “Getting close to him may be too risky, now,” Taryn said. “Even if the ambassador merely captures Kirk, that will probably be enough to touch off hostilities—especially since the raids along the Neutral Zone are increasing.”

  “Who is working there,Vadi?” Savel asked, cocking her head at him.

  Taryn smiled thinly. “That is the beauty of it…no one. We prodded Keraz, we prodded Chang, we prodded Kruge and Wurrl and Makesh and Kardis. Now insubordination and mutiny are creeping through the Klingon forces like a spy in the night. Every week there are new reports of terrorism…and we are responsible for only half of them! Azetbur is holding on by her elegant fingernails—but soon, her grip on her people will be lost. And then…” He nodded.

  “War,” Savel said, with an expression Taryn could not read. It seemed to be compounded of equal parts eagerness and revulsion.

  “Vadia-lya,”he said, referring to her as his “little niece” for the first time in years, “what troubles you?”

  “Nothing,” she mumbled, gazing down at the thick-woven carpet beneath their feet. “It is only that—”