"I'll survive," Jean said shortly, stuffing the hood in a pocket. "Let's get to work".
Aernath stiffened perceptibly. "Fine. Follow me." He turned on his heel and set off.
Damn! Did it again, Jean thought. She really was glad to see him. Why had she let her general anger spill over at him? Contritely she reached out and took his arm. "Look, I'm sorry, Aernath. Thanks for retrieving my hood. I—"
Now he was curt in return. "That's another thing. Don't touch a man here unless you're given permission first. It's impertinent." Stung, Jean pulled back. In a slightly softer tone he added, "With me, of course, you always have permission. Don't worry about it." Pointedly she ignored him. They passed a group of Klingons going the other way. When they were safely several steps beyond them Aernath quietly exploded, "Blast it, Jean, I don't make the rules here! I'm just trying to keep you out of trouble."
Mollified, she took the proffered elbow. "I know," she said wearily "Like I said, let's just get to work."
The lab, in contrast to her quarters, was well outfitted and comfortable. By the time Aernath's lunch shift arrived they were nearly set up. Jean finished unpacking by herself. When she returned from her shift she found Aernath elated. "I got an assignation of polderland. We're going down to look at it this afternoon. Come on."
As they approached the group by the krelk corral, Jean stared curiously at the contraption atop one krelk. "What's that?" she demanded of the Klingon holding the animal.
"The back-litter. What you ride in," he replied.
"I will not," Jean stated flatly. The Klingon looked startled and confused. Aernath busied himself with his own harness, an amused smile on his face. "I will not ride in that … that cage!" she declared hotly. "Take it off and get me a saddle." The groom looked even more uncertain. He glanced at Aernath who was suddenly very busy turning his own krelk around. Then he turned to Tirax who had just arrived.
"The human—she … uh … wants a saddle," he explained .
Tirax looked at Jean. She glared back. "I won't ride in that contraption. It's a trap, a … a menace."
At that point Kasoth appeared. "Now what's the matter?"
"The human demands a saddle, Commander," said the groom nervously.
"Out of the question …"
"Let her have it." Tirax's voice was flat and cold.
Kasoth turned to him furiously. "Are you out of your mind? I suppose you want me to issue her a blaster, too?"
"Obviously not," Tirax responded, unruffled. Then he shrugged. "If she wants to ride unarmed in a saddle, let her. It's her hide."
Kasoth continued to fume. "By the bowels of Durgath, Lieutenant, I won't be responsible for this. I told Kang this woman would be a disruptive influence, It's bad for discipline, morale—"
Tirax overrode him. "You handle the discipline, Commander. I'll look after the woman. As I said, if something unfortunate happens to her, it's her hide. And my problem."
Kasoth turned angrily to the groom. "Get a saddle."
Jean noted Aernath caried a blaster. She hoped he could use it well. Her accidental demise, she was convinced, was just the sort of problem Tirax would welcome.
The trip down was uneventful. Aernath rode beside her constantly coaching her on the foot and knee movements necessary for controlling her mount. By the time they reached the polder she was beginning to get the rhythm of it. It was a beautiful sunny day and quite warm down in the lowlands. If it hadn't been for the presence of Tirax and the other armed guards, Jean would have enjoyed it immensely. Even so, she and Aernath became absorbed in discussion and planning how to lay out their allotted plots. The soil looked good. One area nearest the dike was selected tb see how both strains would respond to still salty soil. They also collected soil samples for analysis. It was almost dusk when they set out for the estation.
Again Aernath rode beside her watching her movements critically, offering occasional tips. Although it took total concentration, she was managing quite well. Fortunately, she seemed to have a very placid animal. It was not inclined to bridle or sidestep nearly as much as Aernath's or Tirax's krelk just in front of her. Her total concentration was broken by a sudden shout. "'Ware!" It was Tirax. In one smooth motion he rose, turned, and blasted over her head. Almost immediately she heard a second and third shot from beside and behind her even as her krelk loosed its tail. Then she was engulfed and carried to the ground by a flopping mass of feathers. Panicked, she struggled under the moving weight of the thing, dimly hearing a confusion of shouts and bleating krelks. Then she was pulled free. Tirax was hoisting up an enormous white bird, surveying it critically. Aernath knelt beside her, the amethyst eyes frantic. "Jean! Are you all right?"
She laughed a little shakily as he helped her up. "I seem to be unhurt." She brushed herself off.
"Good shot, Tirax. Look, mine and Aernath's only grazed the tail feathers." Several Klingons were gathered around the snowbird. One black hole was bored neatly through its breast, two through its tail.
Jean remounted and brought her krelk alongside Tirax's. She leaned over. "Thanks."
He glanced up at her briefly across his own krelk, then swung the bird up to secure it behind his saddle. "Better luck next time." He swung up into his saddle.
Damn you, too! Jean thought and viciously swung her krelk back to join Aernath without another word. The adrenaline surge carried her back to camp before she got shaky, but it was several days before she worked up the courage to ride back down to the polder. She took pains to make sure it was always with a party returning well before dusk which was when the greater snow birds began to hunt.
Planting proceeded in the polder and later in the upland plots. The growing season was underway but the food ration didn't improve noticeably. Jean lost weight and though the nights were warmer she still shivered miserably in bed at night. In the three weeks since her arrival, several women and girls and one small boy that she knew of for sure had disappeared from the line. This evening she headed for the mess a little early.
Approaching the corner of the building she heard a thin scream followed by an angry voice. "Filthy wretch! I'll teach you to steal food when you're supposed to be serving. Coming on around she saw a Klingon send a girl to the ground with a blow. He drew back his foot to follow with a kick. His back was to Jean. Out of reflex, she launched herself at the back of his other leg. He crumpled suddenly over her back. With an agility that startled her even as she did it, Jean rolled over and up to face the man. His astonishment gave her a momentary advantage.
Leave her alone!" she raged. "You've got the women on such short rations it's no wonder if she's stealing food."
Recovered now, the man came up with a snarl. "Why you little … human!" She ducked sideways and avoided his first lunge. He turned and caught her arm. At the same time she was seized from behind.
"I believe the human interrupted you. My apologies. Please proceed. I'll prevent her further interference." The other Klingon glowered fiercely at Tirax but it was clear the Lieutenant's suggestion had the force of a command. He backed away from Jean and resumed his savage attack on the girl.
Jean watched in helpless fury. "Coward!" she screamed.
"You haven't …" Tirax clamped a hand over her mouth as the other Klingon turned back to them.
"No, Kinsman, don't let her goad you. Even if it were permitted, I wouldn't advise you to challenge her. She's vicious with a dagger. Better than you have felt her sting." The other Klingon's eyes widened fractionally, then he turned and stalked off. Tirax's fingers clamped painfully into her flesh. "But someday, human, that sting will be pulled," he hissed—"… someday … "He, released her with a shove.
By now quite a crowd of women and children had gathered. Jean looked at the form of the girl on the ground. "What about her?" she demanded of Tirax.
He shrugged. "Her Theld will take care of her—if they wish." He went back into the mess hall without further comment.
Jean looked around at the impassive faces. She picked one youn
g women whom she recognized as one who had sat next to her on a couple of occasions. "You. Do you know this girl?" The woman nodded. "Well, go get someone from her family. Get help."
The woman hesitated, then said. "They don't want her.
She's been Theld-barred."
"What! Why?" Jean demanded sharply.
The woman twisted her hands nervously as if frightened to have attention drawn to her. "Too many mouths to feed. She's a girl."
"Well, dammit, if nobody else wants her, I do." Jean snapped. "Here, you." She grabbed the woman by the arm. "And you." She pulled a second girl from the crowd. "Take her to my quarters and wait there with her until I get there. Now move!" Intimidated, the two scrambled to obey her. The mess hall had opened to the waiting line. Jean stalked to the front of the line and no one challenged her. She collected two rations and carried them to her quarters.
The girl who had been beaten lay huddled on the hearth. The other two hovered uncertainly beside her. Jean set the food on the table. "You can go now. You," she indicated one, "go find Aernath in the lab and tell him I'll be late this afternoon." She bolted the door behind them and turned her attention to the girl. Pitifully thin, covered with cuts and welts that would soon be ugly bruises, she moaned in pain when Jean tried to move her. With a wet rag, Jean cleaned her face, arms and hands as best she could. There seemed to be no broken bones but Jean worried about internal injuries. Cradling the girl's head in her lap she urged her to take a little water. The girl retched violently, then started shivering. Alarmed, Jean pulled a blanket off her bed and covered the girl. As she was building up the fire, someone tried the door, then pounded loudly.
Jean went to the door, a stick of wood in hand. "Who is it?"
"Jean, open up. It's me—Aernath."
"Are you alone?"
"Cymele's Cloak! Of course I'm alone. Open up!" She slid back the bolt. Aernath charged into the room, first-aid kit in hand. "Are you all right?"
"I'm fine. She's the one who's hurt." Jean gestured to the girl. "Come on. Give me a hand."
"Wait a minute. The woman who came to the lab said you got into a fight with a man because he hit a girl. Is that true?"
"Hit her?! He looked like he was going to kill her. I couldn't just—"
"Jean," he demanded, his voice ominously quiet, "never mind that. Just tell me—what did you do?"
"I … I tackled him. Knocked him down." Jean replied, suddenly defensive.
"You saw him hit someone so you …" he spluttered unbelievingly, "you … just … tackled him? Just like that?" She nodded. "By the Lair of Durgath, what did you expect to accomplish by that?"
"I didn't expect to accomplish anything. I was just mad."
"Jean." He took her by the shoulders and shook her gently. "Jean, you can't take on this planet single-handed. If Tirax had not come along you might have been killed. We can't keep you out of trouble if you keep going out of your way to look for it."
She struggled with her anger. She wanted to scream at him just because he was a Klingon, because he accepted it, but she saw the concern in his eyes. She tried. "Aernath, you just don't understand—"
"Maybe I do, maybe I don't, but as I said, I don't make the rules here."
"No," she retorted caustically, "you just follow them. Now give me some help with this kid." He complied stiffly. She had pushed that button again but this time she didn't give a damn.
After Aernath administered a stimulant and a pain-killer from his kit, the girl perked up. Together they patched her up. She looked to be about twelve or thirteen. Jean was seated on the hearth again, cradling the girl in her lap. "What's your name?"
The girl shook her head slightly. "Don't have a name. They call me Aydutywa."
"Unwanted one, huh. Well, I want you. Suppose we call you Tywa from now on. How's that?" The girl looked at her wide-eyed and nodded. Aernath had finished repacking the kit. "Aernath, would you please hand me one of those trays on the table? Let's see if she can eat something now."
He brought both trays and set them on the floor, then stood watching her feed Tywa. "Jean, is that all that you brought for your lunch there?"
Something in his voice made her look up but his face was impassive. "That's the ration," she stated flatly.
"That's all you usually get?"
"I told you they had the women on short rations."
"I know you did but I didn't realize …" he broke off and poked the fire watching the smoke curl out and up to the rafters. He turned around and surveyed the room. "These are your quarters?" She nodded, puzzled by his manner. "Durgath take that Tirax!" he muttered, his face suddenly grim. "Jean, stay here with her this afternoon. Don't worry about the lab. I'll take care of things." He picked up the kit and left .
Approximately mid-afternoon, Aernath came bursting in. Jean glanced anxiously at Tywa but she did not wake up. Triumphantly he slapped two colored plastidiscs on the table. "There. Tywa is now officially assigned to you—on standard ration. You're on ration and a half. I'm afraid you're stuck with these quarters but they promised to plaster the chinks in the walls. Pretty soon it should be warm enough that you won't need that blasted fireplace."
"How in space did you arrange all that?"
"I reminded Kasoth that the human digestive system isn't as efficient as ours. I also told him that this was a calculated insult to Kang and that a new rim planet couldn't afford to antagonize the Imperial Fleet let alone the future emperor and …" he stopped, seeing the look on her face, then added lamely, "Well, that's all true, after all. And it worked; I succeeded."
"Logical and efficient Klingon tactics. Survive and succeed." Jean sighed. "I think Tywa will be all right. Let's go back to the lab. I need to get back to work before this planet drives me stark raving mad—in both senses of the word."
Things went more smoothly in the ensuing weeks. Most of the Klingons avoided Jean and she avoided them. Frequently Tywa would bring Jean her meals at the lab or her quarters. The girl worshiped her and provided a constant unobtrusive comfort to her in dozens of small ways. At night she curled up beside her as warm and contented as a jequard kit.
Weather was favorable and both strains were growing moderately well. The upland soil was thin and the grain was not flourishing there as it had on Tahrn. In the polder, however, it promised to approach the performance on Tahrn except for the patch in brackish soil near the dike. There the "Czerny strain" had apparently contracted some kind of blight; not the Tseni virus but some other problem. They had been monitoring it closely.
This morning Jean turned over sleepily and burrowed back under the covers. Comfortably she listened to Tywa puttering at the fireplace. Somewhere the child had acquired a boiling pot. One of her favorite rituals was to fix morning khizr, the Klingon equivalent of coffee, for the two of them. In a few moments she would come back with two steaming mugs of it and snuggle happily next to Jean while the two of them nursed their morning drinks and planned the day.
"It's raining," Tywa announced as she handed Jean the cup.
"Rats, Aernath won't be back from the supply trip to Port Klairos until late afternoon and that means I'll have to make the trip to the polder by myself in the rain. Do you think it'll rain all day?"
"No, it will probably stop by noon."
"Well then, I think I'll wait until after lunch to go. I've got to run the next set of tests on that blighted grain today. Can't wait longer and it will take me several hours without Aernath. Why Tywa, you got breakfast already! How did you manage that?"
The girl wrinkled her nose with pleasure. "I've got a friend in the kitchen. If I get there early enough she'll let me sneak ours out before the mess hall opens."
"You're a jewel, Tywa, and so is your friend in the kitchen. Tell her thanks from me." Jean leaned over and kissed the delighted girl on the forehead. "Now I better eat and get to work. See if you can talk your friend into an early lunch and I'll go to the polder after that."
"We'll do it, Jean." Tywa was as good as her word. Shor
tly before the men's second mess she appeared at the lab with lunch. The rain had stopped.
"Do you know where Tirax is?"
"He and several others went out hunting early this morning. They aren't expected back until mid-afternoon." Among her other skills, Tywa exhibited an omnivorous ability to keep track of people's movements and activities, which was one of the reasons she had survived as long as she had as an outcast.
"Hmm. Well, I guess I'll get one of the guards from the corral. Tywa, keep a sharp eye out for Aernath. If he gets back before I do, ask him to come down and give me a hand."
The Klingon corral guard grumbled at her projected trip. "No one else is scheduled for the polder today."
"Can't be helped. You know Aernath and I have been making trips every other day and today is the day. The sooner we go the sooner we'll be back."
He produced the krelks and accompanied her in silence. The road construction crew had reached the polder trail with one lane now she noted. Maybe they would reach the ag-station before the snow flew. The polder was deserted. After a couple of attempts to enlist the guard's aid, Jean gave up in exasperation and resigned herself to doing the work alone. The Klingon retired to the nearby dike muttering sullenly about humans and women in general. Jean ignored him.
A good while later Jean stood up at the far end of the plot to call to him that her work was finished. He was sitting on the dike bank of one of the drainage canals idly tossing pebbles into the water. Rising out of the water onto the dike just behind him was a huge saurian head, nearly a meter in length. Jean stood immobilized for a split second. The head was followed by one and then another ponderous clawed foot. Galvanized, she yelled a warning. The Klingon scrambled up. As he turned to fire he slipped on the wet grass of the dike and his shot glanced off the shoulder of the beast, which was now entirely up on the dike, some four meters of amphibious motion. It spat a shrill hiss of rage and pain, then a sheet of flame.
Pawns and Symbols Page 15