Pawns and Symbols Page 7

  As they entered the city, she began to look about again. Massive was perhaps the most appropriate word for Klingon architecture. Buildings were almost all of stone or orange-colored bricks. Roofs were flat or dome-shaped. Not much precipitation here, she deduced. The city was laid out along broad avenues with heavy muscular statues of military heroes at intersections. She caught glimpses of crowded alleyways which formed a network of busy commerce between the broad avenues. Grand transport consisted mainly of small three-wheeled rigs pedaled by their occupants. She also saw large two-wheeled carts drawn by goatlike creatures. The only powered vehicles in evidence were the sleek black glide-cars of I.S.G. patrol.

  The procession ended in front of an imposing building whose dusky pink facade was decorated with silver and white tiles. Above the massive wooden doors was the same image Jean had seen in the niche of Kang's quarters. They left the carriage and climbed the steps between two rows of honor guards in the same black and silver uniforms as Kang's lieutenants. Music piped thinly as they walked the hall to the audience room. Spaced along the corridor were more members of the I.S.G. at stiff attention, their faces as hard as the stone at their backs. The audience room was filled with Klingons—the men in uniform, the women in more elaborate versions of the dress she wore. The far wall was a huge tile mosaic depicting the now familiar fanged beast rampant against a field of stars. In front of this was a raised dais with a single seat.

  Jean gave an involuntary start as she caught sight of its spare-framed occupant. Also wearing silver and white, this gray-haired Klingon bore a startling resemblance to Kang! Kang halted and raised his arm in formal Klingon salute. The emperor acknowledged his greeting. Unclasping his sword, Kang advanced to the dais, placed it across the emperor's knees and knelt, head bowed. The emperor extended his right hand for a ritual kiss. There was a brief exchange, then Kang rose and received his sword back. Another formal interchange and Jean caught a sharp glance in her direction from the dais. Further exchange. Then Kang beckoned her forward. She repeated Kang's obeisance. The emperor's hand was cold on her lips. She returned to her place as the ceremonial exchanges continued. At length the emperor rose and all the Klingons responded with a formal salute. After his exit the others followed, Kang in the lead.

  In the hallway, Tirax pulled her to one side and took her along a side corridor accompanied by an armed member of the I.S.G. After several turns and a descent of steep narrow steps, they emerged outside. The waiting glide-car was gunmetal gray. The three of them got in. Jean had a brief glimpse of the driver's black and scarlet uniform before their escort opaqued the rear compartment windows.

  Being wedged between the two Klingons in the small compartment gave Jean a claustrophobic feeling. The two men carried on a desultory conversation in that strange dialect she could not understand. She fought the sense of entrapment and isolation by reviewing her impressions of the Klingon capital. Most intriguing was the question of Kang's resemblance to the emperor. Were they related? She would have to ask Aernath. Aernath! How she longed to see a friendly face. She desperately needed to talk to him—the one person she could trust and rely on in this nightmare. She would never survive without the anchor of that relationship.

  The ride stretched interminably. When the vehicle finally slowed, the guardsman cleared the windows. They were stopped at a checkpoint. On either side of the road as far as the eye could see stretched a four-meter metalmesh fence topped with flash rods. Any contact with that would be instant electrocution. The I.S.G. sentry checked their papers, scanned the occupants, and waved them through. A few meters down the road they were passed through a second barrier. The glide-car moved more leisurely now and Jean watched the countryside. This must be the agricultural station Kang had spoken of. Neat plots on both sides of the road contained dozens of kinds of plants. A few she recognized as species that she had seen in Aernath's collection. When she made it back to Federation territory she would have a wealth of new information to add to the botanical archives. But when would that be? She firmly refused to admit the "if" that hovered darkly in the back of her mind. Somehow, she promised herself grimly, she would get back.

  The soil was sandy yellow. The experiment station blended neatly into the background as they approached. Only the bamboo-like windows surrounding the building made it noticeable. She had seen no true trees on this planet, only a scrubby growth reminiscent of the Aldebaranian lesquit bush. The glide-car stopped at one of the sand-colored one-story buildings. The ubiquitous I.S.G. sentry appeared and saluted stiffly as they emerged from the vehicle. Space! They're everywhere, Jean thought. Nowhere in the Federation had she been so oppressively aware of military structure as on this Klingon planet, not even at Starfleet Command!

  The station administrator was a nervous little man in a brown uniform. He greeted Tirax effusively and eyed Jean apprehensively. "Is this the human who is going to work with Ag Tech Aernath?"

  "That's her," Tirax affirmed.

  "She has all the proper clearances?"

  "For this project she does," Tirax growled.

  "I see. Uh … is she clean?"

  "She's housebroken." Tirax sneered, then added maliciously, "But don't let her scratch you. She might give you aitchnit fever."

  The administrator looked flustered. "No, no, Lieutenant. I mean, are you sure she's not carrying any Tseni virus?"

  Jean had suspected that Tirax nursed a grudge against her but he seemed equally bent on affronting this man. "Don't know how in space she could unless she's …" He made a crude reference to her anatomy. "Ask Aernath."

  And may the Aldebaranian snilfpox consume your genitals, Jean thought viciously. She detested this Klingon as much as he seemed to despise her.

  "Yes, of course, Lieutenant. I'll have you shown to your quarters now." The administrator, eager to be rid of them, turned them over to an aide and rabbited back into his office.

  Tirax held her elbow all the way to her room. It would be bruised for a week. He insisted on inspecting her room in maddening detail before he finally left—simply to harass her, she was convinced. Tirax gone, she went to the bathroom. As she was washing her face she heard her door open. Thinking Tirax had returned, she emerged braced for a confrontation.

  Aernath stood in the doorway holding her bundle. "Hullo. Welcome to you …" He stopped short at the sight of her. "By the teeth and claws of Durgath! For a moment there I thought you were a Klingon!"

  That blow breached her shield; Jean's defenses shattered. Aernath shut the door and dropped the bundle as she threw herself into his embrace. "Oh, Aernath!" The rest was incoherent sobs. She had not cried since that first night in detention on Kang's cruiser. All the accumulated terror, confusion, loneliness and need came pouring forth.

  Aernath held her for a moment, then awkwardly patted her on the shoulder. "Siee … what happened? Did I insult you? Cheerny! Jean! Are you hurt?" He tried to disengage himself.

  She clung to him even more tightly. "No, hold me."

  Aernath's confusion turned to alarm. "What in space has happened to you? Cymele help me, is this normal human behavior? Are you all right?"

  Jean nodded, then shook her head, then simply continued sobbing. Finally Aernath stood still, woodenly enduring her sodden embrace. Eventually, her tension spent, she became aware of his stance and released him. She smiled wanly. "Really, Aernath, it wasn't anything you did. Calling me a Klingon was just the final blow. I reached my breaking point. From now on—don't ever go a day without checking with me as long as I'm stuck in this damned Klingon Empire! I've been frantic the last two days to talk to someone I could trust."

  "Understood. I shall do so," he said stolidly.

  She looked at him. Damn! She'd pushed that button again. There he was: "No-excuse-Commander-Sir" bondperson. What had done it this time? "Blast it, Aernath. I need a friend, not a puppet. You've gone all rigid and distant again. Of all the times—please, not now. What did I do wrong?"

  He relaxed a trifle. "Well … first, let me ask. Is this
… uh … typical human female behavior?"

  "Women who make it to Starfleet aren't given to hysterics, but under the circumstances … yes, I would call it a normal response."

  "Check. And what would a human male, a colleague of yours, do and feel under the circumstances?"

  Jean wasn't sure what he was driving at so she chose her words carefully. "Pretty much the way you did at first. He'd try to comfort her, find out what was wrong, apologize if it was something he did. Some would feel awkward, some protective. Why do you ask?"

  "No offense to you but a Klingon woman would never cry before a man. To do so implies either she is crazy, or he has humiliated her beyond endurance, or … she considers him less than a man. You're obviously not crazy. You knew I meant no insult when I called you a Klingon. That leaves—"

  "Omigawd!" Jean groaned, "Aernath, look—"

  He ploughed determinedly ahead. "You have that right. But you requested an explanation and I'm trying to give it. I told you once that bond-right is seldom invoked with an enemy. Klingons usually kill. This situation is especially bizarre. You're a human and a female … well, it's hard to know where one stands."

  "Aernath," she said quietly, "I consider you as a man who is my friend and …" This was getting sticky. Aernath was the most compassionate, non-aggressive Klingon she had met. The last thing in all space she wanted to do was insult him. Yet how could she handle this without triggering in him some need to prove his Klingon masculine dominance? It was corny but she tried the old cliche, "… and like a brother to me."

  The effect was astonishing. "Well, why didn't you just say so in the first place?" The embarrassed stiffness disappeared.

  Obviously she had said just the right thing but she didn't know why. "I didn't know that would mean so much to you."

  Aernath chuckled. "Only one problem—you're older than I am."

  "What's that got to do with it?"

  "These days Klingons don't usually have more than two children," he replied as if that explained it all.

  Jean was puzzled. "I don't see what that has to do with your being my brother."

  Now Aernath was puzzled. "To be your brother, I'd have to be the third born."

  She gasped, "Do you mean to tell me the first-born is always male?"

  "Of course. First-born male, second-born female. Isn't it that way with humans?"

  Jean giggled. "No, by and large we take potluck—at least the first time around. Say, speaking of families, is the emperor Kang's father?"

  Aernath looked startled. "No, his uncle. What made you think he was his father? Succession is always through the sister's son."

  "Well, he looks so much like Kang that … what did you say?"

  But Aernath exclaimed simultaneously, "You saw him?"

  "Yes," she said matter-of-factly. "I accompanied Kang for an audience today. Now what did you say about succession?"

  He whistled softly. "The emperor is Kang's maternal uncle. In the normal course of events, Kang will be the next Klingon emperor. I thought you knew that."

  They stared at each other soberly for a long moment. Then she said slowly, "Let me fill you in on what's happened to me in the past two days and then I think it's time you gave me a crash course in Klingon sociology and politics."

  "Agreed. But we can't do it sitting here. Why don't you change into work clothes and I'll give you a tour of the place."

  While Aernath waited outside, Jean retrieved the black pullover and her own now mended tunic. Hastily she undid Protocol's two hours of work on the hair and tied it loosely at the nape of her neck. Then she joined Aernath.

  He looked at her curiously. "That was a drastic change. Does it really bother you to look like a Klingon?"

  "If all Klingons were like you, Aernath, it wouldn't bother me a bit. Unfortunately, you seem to be the exception that proves the rule."

  "I guess you couldn't have a balanced and objective view of us growing up under Federation propaganda. Anyway, tell me what has happened to you for the past two days while I've been getting us transferred here."

  Aernath gave her an extensive tour of the rolling fields around the experiment station. Ostensibly they were seeking suitable sites for growing quadrotriticale. As they walked, she retold her experiences beginning with dinner in Kang's quarters two nights earlier and finishing with Tirax's behavior on arrival at the station. "Now you can see why I was so upset by the time I saw you today. In spite of my bluffing with Kang, I know very little about your Empire. I was frantic to talk to you—get some information. And Tirax terrifies me. Is there any way we can keep him away from me?"

  "Siee. You have had a full sixty hours, haven't you? Forget about Tirax. He can be handled. What about Kang? How do you feel about him after today?"

  The question seemed casual but it touched the Gordian knot at the center of Jean's tangled emotions—a knot she was reluctant to cut open and examine. Hence, she avoided those penetrating blue eyes and did not notice the intense scrutiny Aernath gave her as she struggled with her answer.

  "I honestly don't know, Aernath. Until today I would have called him a ruthless, unprincipled, but forthright scoundrel. But that was before I knew he was emperor-elect of the Klingon Empire. Space! You'd have to be tough as duralloy rivets to run this show!" She did not note his quick nod of assent. "The other thing I didn't see … that he didn't let me see until today … is how much he really cares about his own people. He talks of pawns and tactical sacrifices and he doesn't hesitate to use them, but underneath he feels the pain. Your culture has made the individual more expendable than ours. Kang accepts that, but in an odd way I think he cares, even about me. He showed restraint. Eknaar tried to tell me that, but I couldn't hear it. From what I've seen, that kind of restraint is a rare commodity among Klingons." She touched his arm lightly. "Don't be offended. I find him fascinating, but I don't share your loyalty."

  "Nonetheless, you assess him accurately. The Commander and his crew are different from the average battle cruiser's. Kang can be a diplomat as well as a battle commander and he carries the soul of his people in his heart. He has the potential to make a great emperor."

  "What makes it so tragic is that indomitable pride of his. He guards so carefully against any appearance of weakness that he can't even acknowledge his feelings. Does he ever unbend to anyone?"

  "He used to—to one."

  "Mara?"

  Aernath nodded. "Yes. That first crew of his was even more remarkable than this one. It was a terrible tragedy when he lost that ship. I don't think he'll ever fully recover from that blow. And then, when Mara left him—"

  "Yes, Mara. There's another piece of the puzzle I don't have. How does she fit into the picture?"

  "The Klingon emperor doesn't really rule the entire empire autarchically. He is the chief Prince among equals. The second in rank is the regent of my planet, Peneli. Mara's brother occupies that throne at the moment—"

  "Her brother!" Jean exclaimed. "Then that means—"

  "That if Mara had a son by Kang he would occupy the throne of Peneli. Such a close alliance of the two premier planets of the Empire has not existed for generations. As you might imagine, there are some who would welcome this and some who would not."

  "Well, that's all theoretical now. With Mara in exile there's no chance—"

  "She's not in exile; she's underground. Her brother has never theld-barred her. As long as he doesn't, nobody dares touch her personally. And I don't think he will. After all, that would kick off a tremendous struggle over succession. As it is now, things may change and then it would be convenient to return Mara—"

  "You mean her brother would turn her over to Kang, force her to bear his child?"

  "Of course."

  "That's barbaric! If Mara is pro-Federation and Kang is determined to destroy us, then—why, he'd kill her!"

  Aernath looked at her curiously. "Whatever gave you the idea that Kang wants to destroy the Federation? I never said that."

  "You don't have to," Je
an sputtered. "Just listen to him talk. He hates Kirk's guts for a start. Of course, he won't start anything right now because of this crisis with the grain but after that—"

  "That's a strange thing for you to say if you're going to work to solve that crisis."

  "Aernath! I can't stand by and let people die, even Klingons. Besides, the Federation is strong. It can take care of itself."

  "That is just Kang's point," he answered. "He never said he wanted to destroy the Federation. He just doesn't trust you. We must negotiate from a position of strength, but he was willing to negotiate—eventually. His mission with that first ship was to assess the Federation's strength. He and Mara came away from that Enterprise encounter holding very different positions. Kang was badly shaken by the experience of losing his ship and most of his crew, being outwitted by Kirk, then having to accept Kirk's magnanimity in delivering him to a safe port of transfer. Now he's doubly sure he can negotiate only from a position of overwhelming strength. Mara, on the other hand, felt immediate negotiation was the best approach."

  Jean shook her head. "Its so incredibly complicated. And now the food crisis. How bad is that? Kang didn't tell me much. Is it only on Tahrn?"

  "No, it's worst here but it has spread to Peneli also and at least one other planet that I know of. Kang would know if there are more."

  "How about you, Aernath? Where do you stand in all this?"

  "Where do you think I ought to stand?" he countered.

  "Well, obviously I think Mara is right but I guess that would be a dangerous position to hold as a crew member on Kang's ship."

  He grinned. "Obviously. Each crew member must tender and pass Vow to his commander. He may never be my emperor but he is my commander. Besides, you've ordered me to keep my skin whole too."

  Tahrn was a hot planet with a slightly higher gravity than Aldebaran Colony. Jean soon adjusted to her surroundings, but the obverse was not true. Meals were served in the station mess hall. Hostile silence would descend with her entry and persist until she left. Klingons avoided her table or any near it—all except for Aernath who did join her until she insisted he stop. It was clear that he enjoyed the camaraderie of his colleagues and she feared if he persisted it would jeopardize his acceptance by them. "After all, we work together all day," she pointed out. "I can stand an hour of isolation." Nonetheless, she found she preferred to take her tray out to the shade of the seyilt, the bamboo-like plants, in the courtyard. That was how she met Tsuyen.