Pawns and Symbols

by Majliss Larson

  Finally, Kirk held up a hand. "Thank you, Aernath, I think that's enough to give us the picture, at least for tonight. He reached over and pressed an intercom button. A lovely brown-skinned face appeared on the table viewscreen. "Lieutenant Uhura, you're working late tonight."

  She smiled affectionately. "No later than yourself, Captain. What can I do for you?"

  "Secure appropriate quarters for our guests and send … umn … Ensign Tamura up to conference room, please. Then I'm going to call it a day. I suggest you do too and let your relief earn his pay."

  "Yes, sir. Goodnight, Captain." The screen went blank and Kirk stood up signaling the close of the meeting.

  McCoy rose still cradling the sleeping Klingon boy in his arms. He shook his head as Aernath made an offer to relieve him. "That's all right, I don't mind carrying him. Interesting, isn't it? It seems to be a universal rule that the young of a species, especially when they're sleeping, exert a powerful appeal. I guess that's how we survive." Aernath regarded the doctor thoughtfully. Maybe there was something about human instincts after all. Different certainly, but something he must explore. After all, it was their differences as much as their similarities that had fascinated him in the first place. There seemed to be so much variation among them though, maybe that was why they were so unpredictable.

  The door opened and a young woman entered. Her somber uniform marked her as a member of Enterprise Security. "Ensign Tamura, this is Agricultural Specialist Aernath and his charge, Aethelnor. They will be our guests for a while. I'm detaching you from regular duty and assigning you full time to them. It's a matter of top priority that the boy be protected from any harm. Requisition any additional help you need. Don't hesitate to call on me or Mr. Spock if you have any problems. Questions, Ensign?"

  "No, sir." She turned demurely to Aernath. "Follow me please."

  Aernath looked at her with profound respect. Petite, shiny black hair, eyes to match, golden skin, basic scent reminiscent of the spicy Penelian kalimbok bush, she vaguely resembled Jean. A deceptively fragile impression he knew. He had seen Jean in action and besides, any female that was a member of Security … Captain Kirk may have intended to lend a casual air to his detention but he was not deceived. Very clever, these humans.

  Speaking of which … he turned to Captain Kirk. "Excuse me, sir."

  "Yes?"

  "When we boarded Mr. Jones's craft, M. Spck took my weapons for … uh … safekeeping. I'd like to ask they be transferred aboard for me."

  Kirk nodded. "They'll be brought aboard but let me make one thing absolutely clear from the outset. On a Federation ship no one carries weapons of any kind except Security when they're on duty. No one. But we'll hold them for you."

  "Of course, sir." Aernath didn't believe for a minute that the whole crew was really unarmed but it did make his status very clear. He thought longingly of his dagger. He was slow to use it and it wasn't of much use against a phaser or tactics such as Jean had displayed, but nonetheless the press of cold metal against his calf was comforting somehow. With a resigned shrug, he followed Tamura and McCoy down the coridor to the turbolift.

  They emerged in another corridor and the woman directed them to a door. Aernath looked around, startled, as the doctor laid the boy on one of the beds. Immense by Klingon standards, the room contained two large beds, two desks with computer video consoles, numerous bookshelves and some items he did not immediately recognize.

  Doctor McCoy yawned as he shook Aernath's hand again. "Good night. I'll plan to see you both sometime tomorrow for your physicals. Sleep well; I know I will."

  The woman closed the door behind him and turned back to Aernath. "My name is Keiko Tamura. You may call me Keiko if you wish. Let me show you how things work. I hope this will be satisfactory. It's the only double we have available at the moment and we assumed the boy would be more comfortable if he wasn't separated from you." She showed him how to control the lights, use the bathroom fixtures, and work the intercom. "My own quarters are just down the hall so don't hesitate to call if you have any problems. Also, there will be a sentry on duty at night or any other time one of you is in the room. I'll come by for you in the morning before breakfast. Any questions?"

  Aernath shook his head.

  "Oh, one other thing. You'll find standard issue outfits for you in the closet. I'm afraid we don't have anything for Aethelnor tonight, but we'll see what we can do tomorrow. Good night."

  Aernath stood where she had left him in the middle of the room. If these were detention quarters what must regular crew quarters be like? And why have double rooms in detention? The door opened and Tamura popped back in. "Two more things I forgot." She beckoned him to the door. "This in Ensign Sakarov who's on sentry duty tonight. And I also forgot to show you how to open the door." She demonstrated the mechanism to him.

  Aernath went back inside and carefully closed the door, shaking his head. They certainly were going to a lot of trouble to make the whole thing look innocuous. The bed was another surprise. It was outrageously soft. It took him a long time to go to sleep.

  1 Korin. A Klingon term of respect for elder males of the maternal line, roughly analogous to the human term "uncle."

  2 Thelsa. An elder female of the maternal line, e.g. older female cousin, aunt-by-marriage, or grandmother.

  Eleven

  JEAN AWOKE SCREAMING, the agony in her voice matched by that of her body. When they did let her sleep, the nightmares merely served to replay the torture they administered at other times, except Spock's protection didn't work when she dreamed. She knew that if somehow she survived, those nightmares would be with her for years.

  They had abandoned the agonizer when it became apparent that Spock had made her bluff a reality. Application of the agonizer instantly caused her heart to stop. Progressively lowering the strength had no influence. Finally, the doctor had remonstrated that he could not cardiovert her indefinitely—sooner or later her heart wouldn't start again.

  When they resorted to cruder methods, Jean had played what she thought was her last card: she asked to be sent to Kang. She harbored few illusions as to his probable disposition of her but it might gain her a respite. Tirax, who had been present, merely laughed cruelly. "Don't worry, human, the final disposition will he his, but in the meantime. Kang is otherwise occupied." He pursued her torment with clinical detachment however, making no reference to past animosities, as if that incandescent hate had burned itself out somewhere. But Jean was allowed no interval of coherence to contemplate this anomaly.

  It was only some unmeasured time later that she discovered Spock's other trigger mechamism: any attempt to divulge information about Aethelnor also caused cardiac arrest. After she resorted to this several times the medic refused to take further responsibility for keeping her going. So they left her mainly to her nightmares.

  Now she levered grating bone against raw flesh to rise and face whoever was coming, preferring her own carefully incremental self-administered agony to the brutal bath of pain that would rack her if someone else pulled her up. They must have done something to her eyes … She saw three Klingons and two of them were Tirax. She stared stuporously at the double Tirax while the I.S.G. doctor went through his grotesque parody of a healer's function. "There are two of you," she said at length with schoolchild simplicity. Somehow that bald elemental statement carried some immense significance but she couldn't remember what it was …

  The second Tirax smiled with evil satisfaction. "You're very observant today. My brother tells me that he has never disabused you of your assumption and so you've never been introduced." As he turned to the first Tirax, Jean noted he moved his left arm rather awkwardly and there was a fresh scar on his neck that she had not noted before. That also carried a significance that escaped her at the moment … "My elder, but twin, brother, Kahlex, I.S.G. commandant for the Ichidur spaceport complex. To whom I am indebted for his exertions in my behalf."

  Jean closed her eyes and the tears began without sound or effect. Eac
h drop that bled free from her was replaced by an imaged Tirax marching at her from all points of the Klingon Empire—an unceasing cosmic joke. Somewhere she heard the faint echo of ironic laughter. The medic undid her carefully calculated maneuvers with one brusque stroke, laying her back on the bench. Her scream of response was almost perfunctory by now.

  "Check her over thoroughly, Doctor. It would be most unfortunate if you overlooked anything."

  Jean was dimly aware that the practitioner was being more than usually meticulous in his exam. Finally he finished with, "No broken bones that need to be set, no irreversible internal damage. She can travel whenever you wish."

  "Now that is a pity," Tirax said softly. "How regrettable that we can't stay to enjoy your hospitality a bit longer, but Kang must not be kept waiting. Perhaps another time … Well, see to it. Come brother, a final drink before I leave."

  The trip back to Peneli brought exquisite torture of a third kind. Tirax stayed with her constantly, taunting, gloating—thirty hours a day. Though he never harmed her, neither did he grant her any respite, nor any pain medication. "Don't harm her or let anyone else. Those were my orders. Period. And that is precisely all you'll get from me." He was simply watching her as the snake watches a caged mouse when it is not yet feeding time.

  Having thus to cope with both Tirax and the painful recovery process on her own, Jean turned inward. She clung grimly to two facts: no one here had learned of Aethelnor; secondly, Spock and the others had made it clear of planetary orbit and were at least headed for Federation space. She had received that much from the "link" before it faded below her ability to detect it. Whether any link at all remained she could not say. Occasionally she had a fleeting impression of a brief cool pulse but it always passed quickly.

  Thinking of Spock, she went back to that encounter seeking one particular item: the Vulcan discipline of blocking pain and promoting healing. She went over and over her impressions, the insights she had gained. It was not enough. She had insufficient understanding to make it work, but the exercise itself proved useful: it did at least distract her from her agony.

  They beamed directly aboard Kang's cruiser and Tirax walked her to sick bay. Eknaar did a quick scan and promptly put her in a berth. "Gath's teeth! Someone sure did a professional job on you!" He cast an appraising eye at the door where Tirax had just exited. "Tirax?" he inquired laconically.

  Jean shook her head. "No, his double."

  "What?"

  "His twin brother, Kahlex."

  "I see. And along comes Tax and rescues you in the nick of time?"

  "You might say that."

  "You know, it's the strangest thing," he said as he twirled dials and selected medications. "Kang's been going over this planet with a fine-tuned phaser—nothing. No hints. He even thought you might've been taken to Tahrn, to throw him off, so he sent out a net there, too. And that's where the message came. Scuttlebut is it was some double agent. Try Tsorn, he said. Then Tirax up and says he's just been in touch with his brother." He shook his head. "Tough luck for you, but it was a good run you made. Hold still now, this'll just sting a bit."

  "Another professional job?" Jean rejoined drily.

  "Of course," he said, then looked at her sharply. "What? Oh, I see what you mean … no, nothing like that. I'm just going to give you a good thirty hours sleep. That's all." It didn't sting much. Jean was half inclined to believe him. He slid the blanket down and looked at her chest. "You must have arrested at least a dozen times. What did they use on you anyway?"

  "The agonizer."

  Eknaar whistled. "And Kang was sure you were bluffing."

  Whatever he had given her was beginning to work. She could feel it lapping around the edges. On an impulse she reached out and touched his wrist. "Dr. Eknaar, I arrested without the agonizer too, and I know how to do it again. If I do will you do me a favor? Don't bring me back. Let me go."

  He paused in the act of putting away his instruments and looked at her for a long moment, then said gruffly, "Go to sleep. We'll talk about it later."

  The smell came back first—of sick bay, and then she was looking up again at the black webbing. Eknaar had been as good as his word: painless, dreamless sleep. Eknaar also let her dress and eat before he called the guard but he wouldn't say a thing. Jean wondered if she'd eaten her last meal.

  She knew this cruiser and its occupants well enough now to know as she was escorted along its corridors that something was disturbing the routine. Something besides her, although she could not determine what it was. Also, Eknaar must have slipped her something before she woke up. The block of ice in her stomach wasn't nearly as big or cold as it ought to be. She was taken not to detention or Security as she had expected, but to Kang's quarters. The council room was empty. Evidently her fate was not to be a public affair. The guard knocked on the door to Kang's room, then motioned her through with his phaser.

  "Excellent. Dismissed." The voice was not Kang's.

  "Mara!" Jean forgot her own plight in a moment of genuine dismay over Mara's. "Oh, no! So he got you, too!"

  The room was rather dimly lit. Mara, dressed in her blue and silver uniform, was sitting on a chair near the bed. She seemed quite at ease as she beckoned Jean to her. "On the contrary. The coup was successful. I'm here on my own terms."

  "The coup?"

  "Yes, my forces now control the military and civilian administration alike. Peneli will move as I direct."

  "And your brother?"

  "Is still regent, of course. But tell me, what happened with you?"

  Jean glanced around. "You want me to talk here?"

  Mara laughed throatily. "My dear, this is the one place on an imperial cruiser where you can talk freely." Her voice snapped taut. "What happened?"

  "The contact didn't show when we arrived on Tsorn. He had an 'accident' on the way to the port so we had to wait for a second contact to be set up. We managed that and all got to the port all right, then I got picked up. A fluke, I think. But the others got away, at least out of planetary orbit and headed for Federation space—that much I know. I have good reason to hope that your son is with Starfleet by now; he was in good hands."

  Mara's smile was pure triumph. "Thank you, my dear. That is most reassuring. You will no doubt be interested in this message I received yesterday shortly before I came aboard." She handed Jean a paper.

  SHIPMENT RECEIVED INTACT AWAIT FURTHER

  INSTRUCTIONS SUGGEST IMMEDIATE

  MEETING STAFLK.

  Jean grasped Mara's hand impulsively as she handed back the message. "Then they're safe! We actually did it!"

  Mara nodded. "And last night Kang received a tramsmission from Starfleet strongly suggesting that he meet an envoy to discuss Sherman's planet and 'other urgent matters.'" She raised her voice slightly, "Well? Now you've heard. Is that enough to convince you?"

  Jean turned. Kang stood in the doorway that led through the bathroom to Mara's quarters. His hands gripped the jamb until his knuckles were white. Mara got up, opened the closet door and brought out a small machine. She extracted a plastic disc, then with the merest of glances held it out to him. "There it is. No drugs, no coercion, and it will show that she's telling the unrehearsed truth."

  Kang let go of the doorjamb with an effort and moved into the room. He took the disc from Mara's fingers, glanced at it, then tossed it on his bed. He closed the closet door, then turned to face them like a wild jequard pursued and driven finally to stand at bay.

  "Only a mortal fool would think to play Durgath to Cymele and her jheens." He made a gesture of concession with one hand. "I will meet with Kirk." Even in defeat he was proud and it was a painful thing to see.

  Had it been her move, Jean would have gone to him. As it was, she watched Mara and in that moment of response read the measure of that woman's steel. Mara's hands were clasped behind her back. They opened, once, in that same impulse that moved Jean, then were stilled—waiting. Mara breathed a single word. "Finally."

  "Mara!" It was a
groan. Then Kang gave a short bitter laugh. "Durgath knows, I thought when I got you back I would be safe—the one person in the Empire who could be held hostage against me. I swore never again … You could command the legions of space itself and I would laugh if I held you here." He cupped a single fist in front of her. "You walk in and hand me my victory for the taking; then when I reach to grasp it you snatch it away with the one other bond … Sweet Cymele! Your revenge is thorough. Mara! Why?"

  "Because it must be done soon. You are the only one in the Empire with the strength and the vision to do it. And you refused, so I had no choice." At last Mara allowed her hands to move, first to the ritual gesture of submission before Kang's belt, then to his face. "Milord."

  Jean glided noiselessly through to Mara's room and shut the door. She curled up on the couch next to Mara's bed and went to sleep. No one, she decided, was likely to disturb her tonight.

  She was left essentially undisturbed not only that night but for several days. There was a guard at the door and the door to Kang's room was locked. Her meals were brought to her. She saw Mara infrequently. On one of the first of those occasions, she asked, uncertainly, if she was expected to remain in Mara's quarters. The Klingon woman looked at her with genuine surprise. "But, of course, my dear, where else would you stay?" Jean left it at that, thankful for time and for a haven to recover from her ordeal on Tsorn. She contented herself with library tapes and solitude.