Pawns and Symbols

by Majliss Larson

  He returned to Spock's cryptic warning. Certainly there might be factions among humans as there were among Klingons. Was Spock trying to warn him that this human was one who would try to sabotage any negotiations with the Empire? Certainly this Jones would bear careful watching.

  Cyrano announced he would "rustle the vittles" if Spock would stay at the controls. This, Aernath gathered, meant Jones would fix something to eat. He followed the trader into his living quarters and observed his meal preparation scrupulously but could detect nothing alarming. It was all standard Klingon fare. Aernath noted that Spock ate only fruits and vegetables just as Jean had reported. Jones directed, with substantial success, considerable efforts at charming Aethelnor during the meal. After the meal they adjourned to the control room to rejoin Spock. Jones became even more expansive. "Now then, chappie, how would you like to have me tell you a bedtime story before you go off to sleep?" Still round-eyed but fascinated, the boy nodded. "Well now, up we come. Have a seat here on Uncle Cyrano's knee." He scooped the boy up and placed him on his lap. "Let's see what would I have here for such a handsome little boy?" He patted the pockets of his voluminous jacket. "Ahh. Why don't you try this one?" He indicated a pouch.

  Watching from the auxiliary seat, Aernath felt as if he were sitting on activated agonizers. What was this human's next move likely to be? He glanced surreptitiously at Spock. The Vulcan seemed unconcerned. But then he had evinced no emotion over Jean's fate either. Aethelnor was poking in the indicated pocket and giggled when the human responded with feigned ticklishness. Finally, he brought out a smooth flat object. Unable to contain his concern, Aernath crossed to look at the toy. It was a flat container filled with some substance that responded to temperature and pressure changes by producing a coruscating kaleidoscope of colors from orange to kalish. It seemed harmless enough.

  Cyrano rumbled on. "Tell me, Aethelnor, do you like true adventure stories? You do? Well, I've scoured this end of the galaxy and had more than my share. Suppose I tell you one … Once upon a time I found myself on a rather nasty planet—natives weren't too friendly. Sales were pretty slow, too. I was about to give it up as a poor choice when I happened on the nicest little creature. A glommer it was called. Stood about this high and had a fee-rocious appetite. Poor little fellow really needed a good home and a steady diet, so I took him to my bosom." He matched deed to word and swept Aethelnor into a hug. "It just so happened I knew a place where he could feast to his heart's content. Excellent commercial possibiilties, too. So off we set. Now alas, some of the inhabitants, as nasty a set of Kli—" he stammered in mid-phrase at a sudden glance and raised eyebrow from Spock, "er … set of Kli … ver rascals as you'd never want to meet, resented my kindness to this poor little creature and began to chase me with their big spaceship."

  "How big?" Aethelnor demanded.

  "Why, oh … as big as a Klingon battle cruiser. Do you know how big those are?" Aethelnor nodded. "Well, so here was uncle Cyrano being chased across the galaxy by this huge ship and they were shooting at me …" He went on to describe incredible pyrotechnics and battle maneuvers culminating in a brilliant pincer movement accomplished with the help of his dear and beloved life-long friend, Captain Kirk of the Enterprise, by which means they utterly routed the dastardly villains.

  Spock greeted the conclusion of the story with both eyebrows raised. "That is undoubtedly the most unabashed flight of fancy it has been my mischance to listen to in a good many years."

  Cyrano grinned modestly. "One of my more minor adventures, really, but I admit it was a lot of fancy flying."

  "I have no doubt whatsoever that this was one of your lesser contretemps," Spock replied energetically.

  The remaining two nights and days aboard Jones's craft passed without incident unless one wished to quibble over such minor things as twenty-seven sales pitches for items ranging from Spican flame gems to the white-furred chworkt, or the escape of Juliette.

  The second night out, Aernath went into the personal quarters to check on Aethelnor who was sleeping on the upper jump cot. As he approached the cot he accidentally struck a soft, yielding mass with his foot. Instantly he was assailed by a maddening screech and a sensation analogous to that produced when a nail is scraped across a school child's slate. With an exclamation of loathing and revulsion, he gave a reflexive kick that sent the object tumbling into the far corner of the room. Though the sensation abated somewhat, the screeching did not. Both Jones and Spock appeared in the entryway. "How in the name of Durgath did this get aboard?" he demanded.

  Jones crossed hastily to the object of Aernath's ire and picked it up, uttering comforting noises as he did so. "There now, poor Juliette …" The creature ceased screeching and began to trill softly under his ministrations.

  "Mr. Jones, you know tribbles don't like Klingons and Klingons don't like tribbles. That, is a tribble. Our agreement specified no tribbles aboard this trip. I, too, would like to know what it is doing here."

  The look Jones gave Spock was wide-eyed, injured innocence. "Mr. Spock, do you think I would abrogate our agreement? I have no stock tribbles on this trip, but they did say I could bring. along personal effects. Juliette is practically a member of my family." He looked down at the tribble. humming contentedly on his arm and said reproachfully, "I couldn't leave her behind, now could I?"

  "Are you certain that is the only one?" Spock demanded with unwonted vehemence. "May I remind you that payment of your fee depends in part upon your meeting the stipulation of our contract that this trip not be disturbed by any tribble incidents. I suggest you ensure that."

  "Of course, Mr. Spock, of course." Then he added plaintively, "I did have her caged. It must have been Agrippina—they're great friends you know." Jones replaced the tribble in its cage and took pains to keep the cage in his sight for the rest of the journey but Aernath slept uneasily nonetheless.

  Spock was in the pilot's seat when they established subspace contact with K-7. After initial exchange pertaining to identification and docking clearance, he turned to Jones and asked, "Mr. Jones, what did you do with your tribble stock beforeyou left on this trip?"

  "Deep hypothermia storage on K-Seven, Mr. Spock. Less expensive than boarding them."

  "Did you label your container as to contents?"

  "Why, ah, I don't believe I did. It's optional, you know."

  "In this instance, you'd have been well-advised to exercise that option. It seems that that particular hypothermia unit became temporarily inoperative and so it was dumped. Unfortunately, the tribbles seem to have survived. Station Manager Lurry is most insistent on meeting with you as soon as we dock."

  Jones muttered something under his breath about mishandling of valuable merchandise but nonetheless his face assumed a worried expression as the final docking maneuvers were carried out. As the space lock cycled open they emerged to face a harried looking white-haired man in an orange uniform, an ominously grim Starfleet captain, and several dozen tribbles of varying sizes. Kirk took in Spock and the Klingon with a quick glance but his interest was in the trader.

  "Cyrano Jones! You miserable, fleabitten excuse for a Federation citizen. You're a free-floating cosmic recipe for disaster. I just wish I could figure a way to keep you off my menu. This time you won't leave until every last tribble is accounted for."

  "Captain Kirk, my friend, your attitude is most bewildering. I really must protest. It is not my fault if you have er … an abundance of tribbles because someone foolishly dumped them loose. As I have remarked before, you really should get more competent help. I, on the other hand, have just undertaken a patriotic and perilous mission for the Federation virtually singlehanded and, I might modestly add, completed it successfully. Really, my friends, I think an apology is due me for your bungling ineptitude which has er … scattered my valuable cargo."

  Kirk turned a delicate shade of purple and Mr. Lurry bid fair to match him. Taking a deep breath, Kirk proceeded firmly. "Mr. Jones, I am aware of the service you have rendered. For tha
t reason, and that reason alone, I am prepared to recommend to Mr. Lurry that he extend to you the hospitality of this station until every tribble is accounted for and removed. If and when that is accomplished, your ship will be released to you again. If not, I find there is still the matter of citations for violations of three Federation mandates and several dozen local laws still pending … by the way, how did you wriggle out of that the last time I turned you over to the authorities?"

  "I volunteered for hazardous duty like any good patriotic Federation citizen would in the time of need," Cyrano offered blandly. "In return, they suspended sentericing."

  As Mr. Lurry escorted Cyrano Jones from the room with the spirited assistance of two security guards, Captain Kirk turned his attention to the remaining passengers. "Welcome back, Mr. Spock." For the first time he registered Aethelnor's presence. The boy had been standing behind Aernath. Kirk gave Spock a questioning look. "This is the, uh … expected delivery—all of it?"

  "Yes, Captain."

  "I see." But his expression indicated otherwise.

  Aernath was surprised that Aethelnor remained calm in the face of the plenitude of tribbles. He was controlling his own reactions with difficulty. A tribble that had crept behind them now began to shrill insistently. Aethelnor glanced back uneasily and clutched Aernath's leg tightly with his free hand. Aernath bent to pick him up. He addressed Captain Kirk. "if possible, sir, could we arrange to have these tribbles removed?"

  Kirk nodded. "Better yet, let's go over to the Enterprise. There aren't any tribbles there, I hope." He gestured to the two remaining security detail, and the party made its way to the transporter.

  As the materialization process finished, Kirk stepped down briskly to face chief engineer Scott. "Thank you, Scotty. No sign of tribbles here I take it?"

  "No, sir!" the engineer replied in his faint Highland burr. Then he caught sight of Aethelnor. "By the holy Stone of Scotland! 'Tis a wee Klingon bairn. What's he doing here?"

  "I expect Mr. Spock will explain that to us shortly. Get hold of Dr. McCoy and both of you meet us in the conference room.

  "Aye, sir."

  With a gesture to the security guards, Captain Kirk headed for the door. A preemptory prod from one of them induced Aernath to follow him, still carrying the boy. As they walked, he tried to assimilate the myriad new sights, sounds, and smells of the microcosmic human society that was a Federation starship. There were numbers of blue-, gold-, and black-uniformed humans in the corridor. Many looked at him curiously as they passed. He picked up occasional scents of fear, several of anger or hostility. One of the guards behind him was particularly hostile. Aernath moved very carefully. Most of the crew carried no weapons. Mara had reported this but he hadn't really believed it. Perhaps they carried them concealed in some way … Mr. Spock was addressing the captain.

  "How long have the tribbles been at large in K-Seven, Captain?"

  "We discovered them yesterday. As near as we can reconstruct, they were dumped four standards days ago and got into the ventilator conduits. McCoy has been over there supervising the spraying of neoethylene aerosol into the ventilating system for the last seventeen hours but it's a slow process."

  They entered a turbo-lift and Kirk directed it to the conference room. Then he turned his attention to Aernath. "My apologies for not introducing myself. Captain James Kirk, U.S.S. Enterprise. Welcome aboard. Oh, you may put him down now if you like. No danger from tribbles here." He extended a hand toward Aernath.

  Aernath hesitated in an agony of indecision. The threat he feared now was not from tribbles. He had been attempting unobtrusively to body-shield Aethelnor from the hostile guard behind them. He sensed his own fear scent climbing well above detection level. He looked warily at the extended hand. What did that gesture signify? This man's anger was fading rapidly: no hostility evident, merely curiosity. Then he remembered: oh, yes, the hand-clasping ritual. Awkwardly he freed one hand and extended it. "Agricultural Specialist Aernath, sir."

  "Pleased to meet you. And your little friend?"

  He could not restrain a sidewise glance at the threatening guard. "Aethelnor, from our planet Peneli."

  Kirk assessed his state accurately. He gestured to the guards. "At ease, gentlemen." To Aernath's immense relief they put away their weapons. The turbolift door opened. He put Aethelnor down and taking him by the hand followed Spock and Kirk into the conference room. The security detail remained outside.

  Kirk waved at the table. "Sit down, please." Rubbing the back of his neck with his hand, he crossed to a small inset at the side of the room. "Coffee, Mr. Aernath?"

  Aernath directed an inquiring glance at Mr. Spock. The Vulcan gave a faint nod. "It is similar to your khizr and as harmless to Klingons as it is to humans which is to say it is a moderate stimulant that also has the long term effects of—"

  "Mr. Spock, I was offering him some refreshment, not a lecture on physiology," the Captain interrupted with gentle amusement. "How about cocoa for the boy?"

  "That is equally acceptable, Captain," Mr. Spock replied.

  As Kirk was still looking at him, Aernath replied,. "Yes, thank you." Spock, he noticed, took neither. He wondered if it was a breach of protocol for an inferior to accept service from a captain in this way. If so, Kirk gave no indication. Just as he set their cups in front of them the doors opened and two more men joined them. One was Mr. Scott, the sturdy dark-haired chief engineer whom he had seen in the transporter room. The other was a slender intense figure in a blue and black uniform. Right now he wore a harried look and was in need of a shave.

  "Well, Bones, how goes the tribble treatment?"

  The doctor groaned. "Jones! Blast that ring-tailed renegade from whatever swamp that spawned him I'd like to put him in deep freeze, permanently. It's the only way to make this galaxy safe for sanity. We've stopped their multiplication before it reached the danger point, but Jim, those critters are everywhere!"

  "I know, Bones. I'd like to throw the book at Jones myself. Unfortunately, we can't this time Just so long as they don't get on the ship."

  "Dinna worry, Captain. Security in the transporter room couldn't be tighter if we were expecting an invasion of Klingons," Scott replied with nice disregard for Aernath's presence.

  "Well, speaking of Klingons, at least this time Jones seems to have brought. along only two and one of them a rather small one at that," Kirk observed as Dr. McCoy set down a cup of coffee in front of Scott, then rounded the table to slip into a seat next to Aethelnor. "Agricultural Specialist Aernath and Aethelnor from Peneli. This is Montgomery Scott, our chief engineer, and Leonard McCoy, chief medical officer." Scott nodded brusquely at the introduction, neither friendly nor hostile. McCoy leaned over Aethelnor and extended a hand.

  "Nice to meet you, Aernath."

  Aernath took the proffered hand. "Thank you. Pleased to meet you, sir."

  Gravely, McCoy then offered his hand to Aethelnor. "And how do you do, young man?"

  Aethelnor looked at him wide-eyed over his cup of cocoa. "Do what?"

  McCoy smiled gently. "What I mean is I'd like to be friendly. Do you want to be friendly to me?"

  Aethelnor looked at Aernath who nodded permission. So he returned McCoy's gesture. "Sure. I'll be your friend. I like your koko."

  Kirk brought them down to business. "Well, Mr. Spock, we're all here now. Suppose you and Specialist Aernath fill us in on the situation. I thought Czerny was to come with you also."

  Spock quickly and concisely outlined the course of his mission since he had left the Enterprise some three weeks earlier, including the contact on Tsorn, Jean's capture in the spaceport, and their escape. Then he gave a nod across the table. "I'll let Aernath tell you himself about Aethelnor and Mara's plans."

  Aernath started to speak, then hesitated. "What I have to say is known to only one or two persons in the Empire. Mara instructed me to inform as few people as possible in the Federation. Secrecy is of the utmost importance."

  Kirk responded quietly, "
These men are my trusted senior officers. I have very few secrets from any of them. You may rely on their discretion."

  "But …" Aernath floundered.

  Spock came to his rescue. "Federation starships are not routinely wired for silent surveillance. It is customary to inform anyone if they are being electronically monitored. Your words will not go beyond this room."

  It took Aernath an astonished moment to grasp the implications of that statement. Then he plunged into a brief explanation of Aethelnor's identity and Mara's strategy.

  Scott gave an appreciative whistle at the revelation. "Kang's son! Och, you've got to hand it to the lady. That's as neat a caber toss as ye could ask for."

  The object of their discussion, having finally finished his cocoa, was sliding sleepily out of his chair. McCoy gently gathered the boy onto his lap where he drowsed off comfortably.

  "Possibly, Scotty. Obviously Mara thinks so. But tell me, Aernath," Kirk's eyes fastened on the Klingon's face. "Kang has never laid eyes on his son from what you say. Might he not just write him off as an unfortunate casualty? And even if he does come, what sort of weight can we give to his word? Mara's asking the Federation to make significant gestures of negotiation with Kang. Even assuming he's willing, can he deliver? How does he stand in the Empire?"

  Aernath stared at the human across the table from him for a long moment, wondering where to begin. What did these humans know of more civilized emotions? With their barbarous family structure, how could they appreciate the discipline that balanced the deep parental instincts evoked by their firstborn against the demands of societal duty, relinquishing him forever from their Theld in just a few brief years? How could they understand the importance of the sibling relationship, or the care with which a man helped his parents select his sister's mate as well as his own?

  Even his association with Jean had not yielded much insight into how humans balanced their breeding and rearing instincts with the demands of organized society. They obviously had both but … He decided to start with the political answers. Political power balances seemed to be something humans understood. "In the normal course of events, Commander Kang will succeed his uncle as emperor of Tahrn, the most ancient and therefore highest position in the Council of Rulers. His son, Aethelnor, is next in line to succeed Mara's brother, Maelen, as regentof Peneli. This puts Kang in extremely powerful position …" He went on earnestly drawing the complex picture of political power balances that moved the Klingon Empire. Beside him, McCoy's head nodded down toward the small one on his chest.