Pawns and Symbols Page 3

  "Spock, I swear that green blood of yours is pure computer coolant!" McCoy exploded. "Dammit man, that's a living, breathing, feeling woman he's talking about. Kang is probably slowly torturing her to death this very minute. It's only human that Jim should be upset about it."

  "I'm well aware, Doctor, of human characteristics," Spock responded frostily. "I merely—"

  "Gentlemen, please." Kirk raised a hand at each. "You're both right, but that's my problem and your arguments will help neither me nor Czerny. Let's take up the problem of the Klingon outpost on Sherman's planet. That's another contingency that we didn't foresee."

  Three

  ON THE THIRD day the vault began to sing to her. She ignored it except twice during the thirty-hour Klingon day when the guard set her water ration next to it. Now it hummed mockingly, You can eat when we get the wheat, over and over. Her stomach cramped viciously. The water didn't help. Earlier that day Eknaar had come with his needles and sugar water. Now the cramps were worse. Jean stared at the dark duralloy container. It would be so easy. Just a few seconds … it would be open … you can eat give up the wheat—

  "Oh shut up!" she said to it angrily, "Shut up!"

  The door lock whirred and broke her hypnotic concentration on the drivault. With relief, she got up to meet the diversion. It was Aernath with a sheaf of notes in one hand and a piece of fruit in the other.

  "Hi! Mind if come in?"

  She shook her head dumbly. He pulled up the stool and sat down next to cot spreading out his notes on one end of it. Jean looked at him curiously. Delicate, slender, he topped her by about fifteen centimeters and weighed perhaps sixty-four to sixty-five kilos. Fine, black hair, long mustache, no beard, and startling eyes: deep blue, almost purple. Primarily, her attention was drawn to the fruit he was holding. It was about the size of a grapefruit with a firm peach-colored flesh and a frantically enticing aroma. He nibbled on it absentmindedly as he spread the papers out. He was talking in between bites. Even white teeth took a bite. The morsel disappeared. Another bite. Gone. Jean watched fascinated as a large drop of juice ran extravagantly unheeded down his thumb. Another bite. The amethyst eyes were looking at her now.

  "Have you heard a word I've said?"

  "Excuse me, what?" She could barely take her eyes off the fruit to meet his question. He followed her gaze to the fruit.

  "Oh. Of course." He pulled a smaller dagger out of his boot. Every Klingon seemed to carry one of these, Jean thought. He neatly sliced the fruit in two and handed her half. She hesitated, glancing at the door. "Forget it," he said. "He's on break. Won't be back for a while." He watched her eat with obvious enjoyment. "Like it?"

  "Yes. What is it?"

  "Not standard cruiser rations, I assure you. Grew it myself in the lab. It's from one of our outpost worlds on the other side of the Empire. Got an unpronounceable name. I call it glory fruit. Bears year round but only one fruit at a time. I'll show it to you sometime. By the way, how does your head feel?"

  "My head? Okay, I guess. Why?"

  Aernath handed her a sheet of paper. "Take a look at this." It was one of the last pages from her lab log, the one with the long entry about the quadrotriticale strain. He watched her scan it. "Pretty scrambled, isn't it? Drove me crazy trying to make sense of it. Finally I went back to the beginning and tried deciphering your lab notes. At least they're not incoherent. But there's water damage in some places. Can't make it all out. Say, did you really get that high a protein content over all those moisture ranges?" He picked up another page and handed it to her. It was one of her data runs. "Those are moisture ranges, aren't they?"

  She nodded reluctantly. It seemed a small thing to confirm, what he had already figured out, but it made her uncomfortable. Aernath whistled through his teeth. "Siee. That's a phenomenal protein content—and through the whole range at that. I only know of one other that comes close and it drops off more in the higher ranges."

  Now Jean was interested. "Really? You have a grain that yields more than twenty-five percent protein? What?"

  "Klibicule. But it bears only in the second year, so its not very practical as a food grain." Aernath launched into an exposition of the plant and its cycle.

  They talked animatedly for some time. Aernath asked a couple more confirmatory questions about her notes and then left. He said nothing about coming back. The cubicle was very quiet. Jean found herself staring at the drivault again. Her quadrotriticale strain. It held so much potential for the Federation. A hardy, high-protein grain, it could be priceless to settlers opening up new worlds. New worlds. That was what had drawn her into Starfleet: the chance to use her skills for people opening up new worlds, the challenge, the adventure. She grimaced. This was a little too much adventure. She'd been sincere in her offer to share with the Klingons but to be expropriated grain, data, and scientist, tout ensemble; that she would not accept. Nor would Starfleet.

  However, here and now she was all there was of Starfleet. Should she let the Klingons have it and hope to find an eventual escape back to Federation space with some of the seed or should she hold out for possible rescue? If Mr. Spock were here how would he state the odds? Of course, if he were here the odds would be different. "I need some more leverage," she said aloud. The drivault faced her silently. At least it wasn't singing to her anymore.

  The hunger cramps woke her early the next morning. She marked passage of time by the guard changes: three shifts a day. She called the shifts with water rations day and the other one night. Not that it really mattered. Time becomes very distorted when there's nothing to do. She felt guilty and annoyed at the inordinate pleasure she felt when Aernath appeared at the door.

  "Hullo. It's me again." He sat down with his papers and handed her a small paper-wrapped packet. "Saved you something from lunch."

  Jean looked at him warily. The amethyst eyes gazed back clear and steady. In a low whisper she asked, "Isn't this room bugged?"

  "What?"

  She gestured, "You know, wired for sound?"

  Suddenly he nodded. "Oh. No, they had to disconnect that to wire your little box there. You can say anything you like and I'll be the only one to hear it."

  "Why are you doing this?" Jean demanded.

  "So you'll talk to me and tell me the truth. You will, won't you?" He paused. She nodded reluctantly again. "Besides," he continued, "you'd do the same for me if it was the other way around, wouldn't you?"

  "It wouldn't be necessary," she replied stiffly. "The Federation doesn't treat prisoners like this."

  Aernath smiled indulgently, as if humoring a small child. "Sure. Well, help yourself."

  Jean didn't press the argument. She opened the packet. It was a sticky bread about the consistency of cold corn mush and had a slightly sour taste. Aernath was thumbing through the notes. "This stuff is really impressive if it will perform in the field like you say it did in the lab. You haven't plot tested it yet, have you?"

  She shook her head.

  "How'd you develop it anyhow? I haven't found anything about that here yet."

  She folded the paper packet into a small rectangle and handed it back to him. "And you won't either. That's my secret."

  "But it is a variant strain of quadrotriticale?"

  "Yes. Tell me, why is Kang so interested in this? Is this going to be the Klingon development project on Sherman's planet?"

  "Sherman's?" Aernath looked startled, then uncertain. "Well, uh … sure, guess there's no harm in saying that."

  Jean was puzzled and irritated. "Look, I know you've left a landing party there. That's no secret. But why is it so important to Kang? This isn't even his quadrant."

  Aenath waved at the table. "Well, why don't you give him the stuff and ask him why it's so important?"

  Her mouth set in a stubborn line. "Because it doesn't belong to him. You can't—" She stopped as her stomach spasmed again.

  "He saved your life," observed Aernath reasonably.

  "And that gives him total rights to me and my 'posses
sions'?" snapped Jean peevishly. "Do you really practice that custom? Or is it just a cover story for Kang's maneuvering?"

  The Klingon sat quietly a moment, then slowly gathered his notes. Jean shifted restlessly, massaging her stomach. Finally he said, "The custom is real, though not often invoked."

  She leaned toward him. "Do you mean to tell me that if I saved your life, you would consider yourself … uh … bond to me for the rest of your life?"

  He looked at her quizzically. "A Klingon seldom spares the life of an enemy nor does he expect it in return, but yes, that's the way it works. Or until I save your life in return. Then we're even."

  Jean looked at the vault very thoughtfully for a long time after he left.

  Aernath didn't come the next day and time dragged interminably. The following day Eknaar came and she was almost glad to see even him.

  "How do you feel today?" he inquired.

  "Not as bad as I will when you're finished," she said.

  "My girl, you're a fool." That was all he had to say.

  The hunger was worse after he left. She spent most of the day on her cot dozing when she could. The vault was mocking her again. She kept her eyes shut and floated in limbo as much as possible. Aernath came late in the second shift.

  "Hi! Back again. Uh, oh. Doc was here today, wasn't he? You look terrible."

  Jean mustered a faint smile. "You have a terrible bedside manner. You'd better stick to plants." Nonetheless, she was glad to see him.

  "Yes. Well, I did spend most of the day with my plants but I spent some time on your notes—your early sampling reports just after you arrived. Some interesting variations. You know what I think? I think you developed your strain from a spor you found in those early samples. Right?"

  She shrugged. He was very close to the truth. When she made no comment, he changed the subject to regular quadrotriticale. He was doing some work on samples of those too. He reached into the pocket of his lab coat—and produced a vial. "This is the klibicule I was telling you about. Funny looking stuff, isn't it?" From his other pocket he produced a food packet.

  She took it gratefully. "Thanks, Aernath. I appreciate that." They went over more notes discussing various details before Aernath left.

  This pattern went on for several days. Jean found herself eagerly awaiting the visits and talking more about her work, or anything, just to prolong them. On two further occasions she refused Aernath's casual suggestions that she relent and open the vault. However, it was increasingly difficult to be vehement about it.

  One day, during the second shift, Eknaar appeared with Kang. She watched nervously as Eknaar did his tests. The doctor drew a blood sample, ran it, then turned to Kang. "You see. There's no question." The Commander nodded but said nothing.

  Jean felt the old fear rising again. What was going on? She could gather no clue from their faces. Aernath was due shortly. What if he came while they were here? Her apprehension grew. Eknaar gathered and packed his things. The guard outside the door looked in and tapped. Eknaar slid his things under the cot and both men stepped back into the lavatory alcove. The door lock whirred and Aernath entered.

  "Helloo … hey, what's the matter?" Then he stopped as he saw Kang and Eknaar. He moved aside as the guard joined them in the room.

  "Search him," Kang ordered curtly.

  Jean stifled a gasp.

  "My dagger is in my right boot loop. I'm carrying no other weapons." Aernath's voice was steady but his face was pale.

  "We are not looking for weapons," Kang replied coldly.

  "Then what's the matter?" Aernath asked.

  "Eknaar's tests show someone is feeding her," Kang said. The guard produced a packet from Aernath's pocket. Aernath's face grew whiter still. "My orders were explicit: no food for the human. You knew that, of course."

  "Yes, Commander."

  "Do you have anything further you wish to say for yourself?"

  "No, sir."

  Kang motioned to the guard. "Your agonizer. Full strength, lethal duration."

  "No!" Jean screamed. The four men turned to look at her but all she could see was a vision of Aernath's form convulsing on the floor while those amethyst eyes stared lifeless at the ceiling. "Wait!" she said hoarsely. "You're not going to kill him just because he gave me a little food, are you?"

  Kang was looking at Aernath. "He disobeyed a direct order. Repeatedly. That's a capital offense."

  She was standing between them now. "But he only did it to try and persuade me to cooperate with you. That's not disloyal."

  "But he did not succeed and he disobeyed orders," Kang pointed out inexorably. The guard had the agonizer in his hand.

  Jean moved toward Aernath flinging one arm out to fend off the guard. "Stop. Oh, please wait," she implored. She faced Kang again. "Listen. If I agree to open the drivault now will you spare him?"

  Kang scrutinized her closely. "After refusing all this time you would do that now to spare one Klingon? Why?"

  "Because he was kind to me," Jean blurted. "Because he doesn't deserve to die."

  "You just said he did it to gain your cooperation. Now you claim he did it out of sympathy for you. You're not making sense," Kang pursued.

  She shook her head weakly. "Oh, I know I'm confused. I wish I could think straight … but I'm right … it's all a question of approach … he can be both." She tried desperately to get hold of the panic, to banish the image on the floor. There was the one main point. "My question. You haven't answered my question! If I open the drivault will you spare him? Let him live?"

  "I will."

  Jean looked at Aernath uncertainly. "Will he? Can you trust him?"

  Aernath looked stunned. "The commander has given his word. Of course he'll keep it."

  Kang's voice came softly from behind her. "Will you open the drivault now?" She turned in time to catch that strange look again.

  "I'll do it." Hastily she moved to the table and unlocked the vault. Aernath fingered the samples carefully.

  "Well?" Kang demanded.

  "They're quadrotriticale all right. Beyond that I can't say without further tests. I can tell you some things by tomorrow."

  "Fine. Do that."

  Jean looked at the Klingons with sudden suspicion. "Did you set this all up? Was this all just an elaborate charade to get the vault open?

  Kang regarded her speculatively. "If I was prepared to execute him in either case, then it really doesn't matter does it?"

  "You really intended to kill him?"

  "Of course."

  "But now he is free—without reprisals?" Jean persisted. Kang gestured impatiently. "Obviously."

  "Well," Jean said determinedly, "if that's truly the situation, then I saved his life. He is bond to me. Right?"

  There was a charged silence. Aernath paled again. Then Kang threw back his head and roared with laughter. "Sturdy pawn. You do keep coming, don't you? If we were bluffing, you've called it nicely. Well done." He bowed slightly toward her. "He's yours," adding intently, "I wish you better of yours than I've yet had of mine."

  Jean touched Kang's arm lightly. "Sometimes learning new customs comes hard. Perhaps I'll go more gently than some."

  "Gently, my dear? I doubt it. You've the instincts of a fighter. But I like that." He lifted her chin with one hand. "'Tis a pity you're not a Klingon."

  "'Tis a pity you're not human," she reciprocated.

  Kang chuckled. "I'll leave him to you now. There will still be a guard posted but you are free to come and go as long as you are escorted. Join me for dinner tomorrow. Until then."

  The door closed behind them leaving Aernath looking acutely uncertain. Finally he met Jean's scrutiny.

  "Well, did Kang set this up with you?"

  He shook his head. "My orders were to enlist your cooperation by any means I saw fit. I had no further conversation with the commander on the matter"

  "That's all? And you knowingly ignored his other order because if you succeeded it would be overlooked? Survive and succeed�
��it really works that way with you, doesn't it?"

  "Right," acceded Aernath sullenly, "except that I didn't succeed and now …"

  "But you did succeed!" she insisted. "It was because of your kindness that I … did what I did."

  "No," insisted Aernath stubbornly, "it was because of the commander's threat that you acted."

  She decided not to tell him how close she had been to simply opening it on his request. Instead she merely said, "The point is you made me care enough about you that I was willing to open it to save you."

  "And now what do you require from me?" His voice was bitter.

  "Your lab coat," she replied promptly.

  Startled, Aernath complied. She seamed it closed with a finger and relaxed. It felt good to have her slit tunic covered. She pulled out the packet of food and sat down cross-legged on her cot. Aernath remained standing where he was.

  "Please, sit down." He complied. Jean looked at the stiff figure perched in front of her, then said gently, "You're humiliated and angry. Look, don't forget I'm in the same position as you are and I haven't grown up with these crazy customs. All I really want from you is something I think you were prepared to give anyway—friendship. I need someone I can trust and depend on, someone to keep me out of trouble for as long as I'm stuck in your Klingon Empire. Will you do that for me?" The blue eyes met hers. God, she thought, the effect was startling—that limpid blue against the dark complexion. She had the feeling that if she ever touched them, she'd get a electric shock.

  "If you command it. Does that include keeping me out of trouble so I can keep you out of trouble?"

  She laughed. Some of her tension drained away but the Klingon did not relax. Sobered, she replied, "Right. I expect you to keep your skin whole. If Kang or someone else does you in, I'm right back where I started." She brushed a few crumbs onto the paper packet, crumpled it, and stood up. "What I want right now, in the following order, is something to drink, a shower, and some clean clothes."