Pawns and Symbols

by Majliss Larson

  From Aernath's eyes, Jean read that someone else had come in. Again a figure entered her limited field of vision: the Romulan scholar. He moved smoothly as if by habit to one of the three doors on the opposite side of the room. These were the closed dining spaces, Jean surmised, and he must be the roomer referred to by the proprietor. What, she wondered, would a Romulan scholar be doing here? Aernath had mentioned Romulans on Tahrn, and she had glimpsed a group of them at the spaceport here on Tsorn but had never encountered one at close range. Under other circumstances, it would be an exciting prospect but not here and now. The proprietor returned with the I.S.G. man's order, then disappeared into the door the Romulan had entered. Jean watched the I.S.G. man nervously, thankful for the anonymity afforded by the shurdik. The Klingon commenced his meal apparently oblivious to them but following the game at the next table with some interest.

  The proprietor appeared at their table with a bottle of ale. "The Romulan scholar sends his compliments and invites you to use his space. He says it won't inconvenience him to delay his meal"

  Aernath took the bottle and inspected it critically. "Tell him that I … No, I shall respond to his offer myself." He rose with a faint gesture to Jean and crossed the room, bottle in hand. Jean followed dutifully. The proprietor opened the door and stood aside to let them enter.

  His back to them, the Romulan was silhouetted against the fine grillwork that constituted the outer wall overlooking the lagoon. The room itself was similar to the one in Mara's quarters with floor matting and a sunken dining recess. Jean followed Aerpath's lead and bowed as the Romulan turned to greet them. This had the unhappy effect of dislodging her shurdik so she could see nothing for a moment. She heard Aernath say, "It is most gracious of you, sir, to offer us this area. Are you certain it will not be an imposition?"

  The Romulan gave a deprecatory wave of his hand. "There is an old saying: 'The gyrfalcon only flies at dawn and dusk …'"

  "… 'and the wise hunter does well to discipline himself likewise.'" Aernath finished smoothly. "Yes, I have heard that saying."

  "Patience is a virtue to be cultivated by scholars and hunters alike. It is no trouble for me to wait."

  Aernath bent to remove his boots. "Perhaps you would honor me with your company and neither of us would be inconvenienced?" Jean abandoned the effort to straighten her shurdik and turned her attention to removing her own boots.

  The Romulan sounded faintly surprised. "Would that not defeat the purpose of your using a closed area?"

  "Like yourself, we are off-world visitors here. Though I respect and observe Tsorni custom while here, it is no affront to me for you to join us if it does not offend you to share table with a female."

  "One learns to adopt many customs when one travels," the Romulan responded noncommitally. "I should be happy to join you." He turned and placed his order with the waiting proprietor.

  Aernath did likewise, then offhandedly instructed Jean, "After he has brought the meal and left, you may remove your shurdik and serve us."

  Jean said nothing as the situation dictated but she chewed her lip in annoyance. Aernath seemed to be enjoying this bit of role playing a shade too much to suit her. Petulantly she tugged at the sides of the hood portion. How did the natives manage these blasted things so that they weren't perpetually blind or flat on their faces? No wonder one saw so few women in public! Her vision finally restored to the maximum permitted, she saw that Aernath and the Romulan had taken their places at the table. Aernath sat facing her, and the door, with the Romulan opposite him.

  "… my field is philosophy, but my avocation is zoology and botany so this is a fortuitous lodging for me. I have found it a quiet, congenial place where one can pursue one's interests unhindered. You may speak freely and undisturbed here."

  "We can speak openly, then?" Aernath inquired.

  "This room is indeed private and the proprietor is most … discreet."

  This must be their contact, Jean thought. He was dressed in a black outfit of velvet texture. The scholar's shawl and cowl which he had brushed back were trimmed in gray. From the back, he looked and sounded remarkably like a Vulcan which was not surprising since the two races sprang from a common ancestry. But, whereas Vulcans had chosen to eschew emotion and such regrettable outgrowths of emotionalism as war, the Romulans had retained more of their passionate and ferocious ancestral traits. They had shown little inclination for contact with the Federation though apparently they had some kind of alliance with the Klingons.

  "… then perhaps you can tell me of your pl …" Aernath amended his sentence in mid-syllable as the propietor reappeared with their meal, "… pleasant surprises in observing Tsorni flora and fauna."

  "It is indeed a planet full of remarkable surprises. These llngen trees, for example, are magnificent; and, though they have not been much studied, your ngkatha are fascinating animals. Their communication modes are quite engrossing to observe."

  "So I have been told," Aernath observed drily. To the proprietor he added, "That is most satisfactory, Kinsman. I would be obliged if you would ensure that we not be disturbed."

  The proprietor departed with a firm promise to see to it. With a heartfelt sigh of relief, Jean shed her impedimenta and picked up some of the dishes. She set one in front of the Romulan, then went around to set one before Aernath. She had little enough experience to go on but this Romulan looked a great deal like the only Vulcan—She stumbled and fell against the table in her astonishment. Seeing his face clearly in full light there could be no mistake. "Mr Sp—!" Quickly the Vulcan reached across the table and gently covered her mouth, shaking his head at the same time.

  "How careless of me not to have warned you of that rough spot that might trip you. Are you injured?" Still reaching across the small table he guided her to a sitting position keeping his hand on her mouth until she had a grip on her composure again.

  "I am quite unharmed, thank you, sir," she managed at last. Aernath was speechless but to the question in his eyes she nodded "yes" that she did indeed know this stranger. Know him? It was practically like seeing the Enterprise itself again! For the first time in more than half a year, Jean dared admit to herself a genuine hope of getting back to the Federation. With alacrity she passed the rest of the dishes to Aernath who distributed them on the table.

  "It would greatly interest us to hear of your stay on Tsorn and of your projected travels" Aernath said when they were all seated once more.

  "And I should like to learn of your travels," Spock responded. He leaned across the table, the fingers of his hands steepled in front of him. "With your permission?"

  It took Jean a moment to realize what he was asking. But of course—so logical—a quick and complete report with no possibility of being overheard. Nonetheless, she hesitated. In spite of her complete confidence in him and her unbounded joy at seeing a familiar face from the Federation, it was awesome to contemplate opening to a total mind-meld with a Vulcan. Among other things he would discover that her first impulse on seeing him had been to hug him, an impulse she knew Vulcans would find painfully embarrassing as they did all human emotional displays. Then she thought of all the events of the past few months … "Everything?" she asked faintly.

  Obviously her hesitation was plain to see. Though she detected no discernible movement there seemed to be some imperceptible withdrawal. "Only whatever facts you deem pertinent."

  Immediately she felt apologetic. She was forgetting that this was as demanding and uncomfortable for him as for her, possibly more so. She gestured her assent. "By all means, please." Nonetheless, she felt a twinge of panicked refusal as those strong slender fingers settled to her temples …

  … Ice and Flame. Not far from her girlhood home on Aldebaran there was an area of geothermal springs. There were places one could stand in a stream where the icy runoff from the mountains merged with the steaming outflow from a hot pot. Side by side the currents would flow, twist, swirl, and merge: trange appositions, brisk contrasts, shocking transition
s … This mental effect was similar. It was also disorienting. To 'see' magnetic fields, for example, as Vulcans did—it was like tasting the color red.

  With a start she realized that while she had been enthralled by the wonder and the awe, immersed in the flow and feeling of the experience, that cool logical mind had been flipping switches, closing synapses, perusing memories with rapid methodical thoroughness at a pace that was mindnumbing for human perceptions. She could not have demurred at the examination of any particular item: it proceeded too swiftly. That she was even aware of any single scrutiny was due solely to the fact that, however briefly, it had to involve an interaction—a touching. She could no more control or restrain this Vulcan onslaught than could matter resist the pull of a black hole. Yet the restraint was there. Rather by gestalt than by individual item analysis, she knew that those events and reactions she felt most reluctant to reveal had been touched most lightly. Even as her apprehension waxed and waned the pace slowed; the two currents eddied beside a particular jumble of synapses. She sensed puzzlement, concern, and then acceptance of an answer though she wasn't sure of either the question or the answer. That synaptic node remained a blank gap.

  I have endeavored to respect your wishes. I believe I have caused you the minimum discomfort needed to accomplish the task at hand. It was a statement of fact. Her discomfort was plain for him to read and his analysis lay open to her. She realized the statement merely served to allow her time to catch up, to assess her reactions as that Vulcan mind had already done, to confirm it.

  She did so. Yes, thank you.

  There is no need for thanks.

  She pushed beyond the analysis to the restraint. There was a tautness there. The current moved and shifted uneasily, then steadied—a disciplined waiting, a conscious act of will to submit to a reciprocal examination conducted in a painstakingly slow and fumbling manner. Poised on the surface of this current, she caught impressions deep within of … What? Could one apply human terms to what coursed there? At any rate there flowed energies, impulses, as different from those cold logical currents as those in turn were to her own mental processes. It would not take much to penetrate the surface tension, to probe the depths and touch these impulses, if one were to push … Again came the wavering and then the deliberate will to steadiness, to endure the probe if it came. With an intuitive flash she understood the restraint. It did not arise entirely out of consideration for her reluctance. There was a comparable. disinclination on the other side. This time it was her turn to touch lightly and withdraw. Yes, of course, she responded. I understand. The tautness receded. But one thing puzzles me … She touched the blank spot.

  Yes, he agreed, we were concerned about you, especially Dr. McCoy—not only because of your injuries on Sherman's planet but also what the Klingons might have done to you. That was one reason I had to check … Under the circumstances, I would say you were most fortunate. You have come through virtually unscathed.

  But there is that gap—something I feel as if I ought to remember, almost can—but it eludes me.

  I can assure you that it is nothing vital at this point. Dr. McCoy tells me this is not uncommon following an injury such as you had. I am sure he will go over this with you thoroughly when we return to the Enterprise. The tautness returned. We will separate again shortly and proceed separately to the rendevous point. It would be advisable to maintain a link. If you agree, I will not break the contact completely when I withdraw. The connection will be barely perceptible in the normal course of events but could be expanded immediately should the occasion require it.

  She assented. I would welcome it until we get back to the Federation. You know, it's not nearly as difficult the second time.

  The second time?

  The nagging puzzlement returned. You see? She pointed to the gap. I don't know why I said that. Groping for an explanation, she suggested, Maybe it was the contact through the ngkatha?

  That might indeed account for the impression. Once more the currents moved and twisted, flowed and ebbed as Spock withdrew the meld. At the conclusion there remained a faint cool pulse deep on the subliminal surface of the subconscious.

  Safely encapsulated in her own uniqueness again, Jean gazed at the impassive Vulcan face opposite her as Spock withdrew his hands. "Your travels have been indeed most interesting and valuable," he said. Then he turned to Aernath, "And you?"

  Aernath paled as he realized the invitation was being extended to him as well. He glanced at Jean, then back to Spock. "A brief exchange of plans might be appropriate," he finally said, giving a hopeful emphasis to brief.

  It was. Through the link Jean caught a faint echo of the same panicky refusal she had experienced as Spock's fingers reached Aernath. A few seconds later, both Spock and Aernath leaned back, the latter looking shaky but relieved. His only comment was, "Well, that certainly beats my potted plant all hollow."

  Their meal proceeded to the accompaniment of casual conversation about the flora and fauna of Tsorn. Jean was astonished at the range of information that Spock had managed to garner in the few days he had been here. At the conclusion of the meal, they made ritual farewlls. Jean donned her shurdik and followed Aernath back to their boat. It was completely dark but they made their way back without incident.

  Jean stood wedged in a corner of the departure area while Aethelnor squirmed restlessly on a nearby bench. She felt tense and restless, too. In a few minutes the signal would come for departure clearances and she would move through the gate with many others waiting here. A few steps, enter the ship, and she would be free! Free of this shurdik, free of Tsorn, free of that clotting fear, free of the Klingon Empire, Federation bound! In the meantime she pressed her shoulders gratefully against the cold unyielding stone, knowing that in those final moments, nothing could come at her outside her field of vision.

  She gazed enviously at Spock and Aernath. The very picture of an aloof academic, Spock sat casually reading across the room. Aernath stood, one foot on the window ledge, looking out on the bustle and activity of the spaceport beyond, the tip of his sword barely showing beneath the fluted folds of his gray cloak. She wondered what he must be feeling now. Anticipation? Apprehension. She was filled with a sudden eagerness to share that coming adventure with him. It would be so much easier for him in the Federation than it had been for her here. No need for apprehension. She would see to that, and she would have a chance to reciprocate for his …

  Aethelnor was tugging at her side. She bent to him. "You have to … what?" she exclaimed in a low whisper. "Aethelnor, why didn't you go before we left?" She looked around helplessly. This eventuality hadn't been covered in their contingency planning. Aernath would have to handle it. She steered the boy over to the window where Aernath took him in tow. They disappeared around a corner.

  A purple glow above the gate announced that it was now open for the next group of departures. Nervously, Jean joined the general flow in that direction. This time it was no problem to give way deferentially as would be expected. Aernath had their documents so she could not exit until they returned. She drifted to a column near the gate and stopped to wait. At least here she also had her back to something solid. Spock was still seated. She reached inward and down toward that dim cool pulse. Its presence was reassuring. She saw him get up and begin to move unhurriedly toward the queue.

  She became aware of a general hue and hubbub from the direction of the main terminal. Jean turned slightly and saw a solid phalanax of I.S.G. guards moving toward this gate. Behind them came a second wave of guards in privates livery—obviously that of the Klingon they were preceding. Behind this individual, a corpulent caliginous man, came a following round of guards.

  Jean heard a bystander hiss, ."Hathak. 'Gath take him. Someday an assassin is going to get him in spite of all his precautions."

  The crowd around her milled and eddied before the press of guards clearing the way for this Klingon. Her back already to the column, she could not move so she merely flattened herself against it. Sev
eral I.S.G. men brushed her shurdik as they passed. The main body of them had already passed abreast of her when one guard halted abruptly. The device he was carrying glowed urgent amber and bleeped stridently. For a fraction of forever he looked at her, his face as startled as hers.

  "Seize her!"

  The forcible assault of two I.S.G. guards wrenched a brief cry from her lips but it was nothing to the mental scream she sent spinning across the room, Spock! Help me!

  The link expanded immediately. Even as she struggled blind and hampered in the steely grip of the I.S.G. she saw the scene from across the room. She watched while his mind cooly riffled plans and probabilities with the speed of a cardshark setting up a gull. He included possibilities that never would have occurred to her, but the probabilities of success were uniformly devastating. This time there was no restraint; the full blast of impotent fury hit and merged with her own. It lasted only for an instant to be replaced with glacial calm. She stated the obvious. It's no use, Spock. Get the others out. No matter what happens to me, we've got to get them safely to the Enterprise, And tell Aernath … Again the Vulcan mind anticipated her and touched that node. Then he turned and waded into her naked fear and raw despair, reaching, thrusting, far deeper than she would have imagined was possible. There was a sudden wrench and she tasted the ash grey echo of her own death. What …?

  It isn't much protection but thet best I can do at the moment. I will maintain contact as long as possible and send help as soon as feasible. Stall as long as you can. I … regret I cannot do more. The link closed down to its former glimmer and she was plunged abruptly back into her own clinging cloth-beswathed hell.