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.

Her chief moments of unease came when Mara was present. Although the Klingon woman gave no indication of it, Jean felt, at the least, that her presence must be an inconvenience to Mara and possibly much more: a constant rankling reminder that not only had Kang taken another consort but had intended to use her against Mara. Since she was here—relatively safe—solely on the sufferance of Mara, Jean reasoned, she did not wish to antagonize her in any way. To do so would be to throw herself back into the grip of Kang, or worse, Tirax. What might happen then, she had no desire to find out.

Tonight she was seated at the small desk watching a tape and finishing her supper when Mara came in from Kang’s room. Mara deposited some documents on her bed, took her robe, and disappeared back into the shower. Jean was somewhat surprised when she reappeared a few moments later. Hastily, Jean snapped off the console and took her tray to the door. Then she retreated to the couch, the position she usually occupied when Mara was in the room. Although ostensibly occupied with the personal journal in her lap, Jean found herself watching Mara as the Klingon woman shed her robe and began to apply the body oil Klingons prized so highly. Mara had a superb body and she gave it the same meticulous attention she gave to other things she deemed important.

Mara turned to her with the container. “My back, if you please.” Startled at this first-time request, Jean put down her journal and complied. Mara stretched like a stroked cat. “Thanks.” She slipped into her gown and robe and transferred her materials from bed to desk. “Oh, Kang expects you tonight. You had best go soon.”

“Me?” squeaked Jean, her throat suddenly dry. “Why?”

“Why not?” Mara seemed unconcerned, her back to Jean as she arranged her things on the desk.

Jean stood uncertainly in the center of the room still holding the oil. “Uh … I mean … is that what you want?”

“Now why should it matter …” Mara stopped in mid-sentence and turned in her chair to look at Jean, whereupon her inflection changed subtly, “… what I want?” When Jean made no answer she went on, “It’s what Kang wants. Why do you think you’re here?” She continued to look at Jean with some puzzlement.

“Well, I …” Jean floundered, “I thought you had … I mean …”

Mara rose quickly and crossed to face Jean. She cupped Jean’s face in her hands and tipped it up to meet her gaze. “Are you trying to tell me you though you were here at my behest?” she asked gently. Jean nodded. Mara’s hands tightened on her face for a moment almost as an embrace; then she gave a brief mirthless laugh as she released her. “My dear child, you credit me with more power than I possess. Whatever leverage I have must be devoted entirely to the success of this mission: meeting the Federation for negotiation. I would not dare defy him in any other thing. You are here because you are Kang’s consort and he has use for you, not because of any thing I have or can do.”

Jean looked down at the oil container in her hands. “You know I didn’t seek this. The last thing I want is your hostility.”

“Hostility?” Mara was genuinely puzzled; then with a sudden intake of breath she pulled Jean’s face up again. “Ah, I forgot, it’s no longer the custom among humans is it? You have the habit of single pairing. Cymele preserve us! Jean, I don’t blame you that Kang has taken Second-Consort. Were he planetside instead of in the Imperial Fleet he probably would have done so long ago. In one of such exalted rank it would not be remarkable. Why should I be angry with you? After all, I am First-Consort with all that that implies and,” she added with some emphasis, “don’t you ever forget that. But all things considered I couldn’t be more pleased with his choice. You have no powerful connections in the Empire to worry me, and you are a human, a condition I find useful both to Kang and me.”

Not exactly a comforting speech but on the other hand not as bad as Jean had feared when Mara had first begun. Wordlessly, she twisted the closure of the oil container as if by doing so she could somehow screw up her composure.

Mara watched her closely for a moment. “Do you really find it that difficult?” Jean looked up at her again, wondering if the anguish and uncertainty she felt showed in her eyes. Apparently some of it did. “He doesn’t expect you to love him, you know. Certainly not immediately. Even I didn’t at first. That comes later. What he does expect is … aetheln. And,” she added fiercely, “he deserves it. That, surely, is his right. You’ve seen enough by now to recognize what he is; what he can mean for the Empire! For the Federation even. Don’t betray that—no matter how you feel personally.”

“I am not … unattracted to him. It’s just that it’s like …” Jean struggled for an adequate metaphor. She was reminded of a time she had stood by Scott in the Enterprise engine room enrapt at the spectacle of the matter-antimatter warp drive pulsing just a meter or so away from them. To her comment on the hypnotic fascination that display evoked, the chief engineer had replied, Aye, lass, ‘tis a thing of beauty to work with—as long as you have the protection of the magnetic field betwixt you.

She continued, “… it’s like trying to work with a warp drive that has no magnetic field to shield you.”

“I know exactly what you mean.” Mara smiled as she extricated the oil from Jean’s hands then added quietly, “You’d better not keep him waiting any longer.”

Thus reft of illusions, Jean went to face Kang. He was sitting on the bed, one knee propped up as a working surface with a profusion of documents similar to Mara’s scattered about him. He glanced up briefly as she entered then continued working. “Strip.”

“What?”

“I said strip yourself.”

“No.” At this he raised his head with a glare that caused her to retreat to, “Why?”

He laid down the stylus he had been using. “I gave you an order,” he answered in a tone that brooked no further temporizing. Jean moved to comply. Satisfied, he resumed the calculation he had been working on. After some moments, he laid aside his hand computer and came off the bed with that singular fluid grace of his. He proceeded to examine her with detached and clinical thoroughness. Some of the spots he probed were still painful enough to make her wince. “Hmm. Eknaar wasn’t exaggerating,” he muttered. He was down on one knee looking at hers which was still somewhat swollen. He glanced up at her. ‘“Did you break?”

She borrowed a phrase from Mara. “You credit me with more stamina than I possess if you think I can hold out indefinitely against ‘some of the Empire’s finest’. I told them plenty but not about Aernath and his ‘package’.”

“Good.” Kang sighed as he stood up. “If Kahlex had been efficient enough to catch me, all of you, including Aernath … if I ever get my hands on that traitorous tool of …” he checked himself then resumed, “If Kahlex had succeeded, it wouldn’t have mattered what you told him and I could have overlooked a lot of things. As things stand, it is fortunate he bungled it almost totally: Only you, Mara, and I—in the Empire—know the nature of your mission. I’m perfectly prepared to take on either the Empire or the Federation but if she’s going to force me to take this insane gamble now, I’d vastly prefer not to have to face them both at once.”

“You would revenge yourself on Aernath rather than Mara, then?” Jean tried to keep her voice steady and casual.

He knew why she asked but answered her honestly anyway. “I need Mara …” His eyes unexpectedly flashed with the old pain. Jean held his gaze until he turned away, adding reluctantly, “and I … love her.” He gave a short joyless laugh. “Does that surpise you, human? That a Klingon can love?” He glared at her defiantly. “It’s a weakness, I know I’ve tried to overcome it.” He rubbed a clenched fist across his chest in an unconscious reflection of his mental efforts. “Durgath knows, I’ve tried. But I have not succeeded and it may prove to be my fatal flaw. Ah, yes, Cymele will have Her revenge, because I dared give to a mortal what belongs to Her alone.” For a moment he stood absorbed in his own thoughts.

“I don’t consider it a weakness at all. In fact, I think I’d like you a whole lot better if you would indulge that tendency more often,” Jean said quietly.

He focused back on her abruptly. “Never mind. Now tell me about your interrogation on Tsorn. I want to know who and when—exactly.”

Clothed only in his preoccupation, Jean struggled painfully to dredge up details from that ordeal while Kang probed mercilessly for precise documentation. Finally, he sat silently figuring. “Then that means the initiative came from Kahlex. His inquiry to Tirax came after it commenced and Tirax merely responded.” From his seat on the bed he glanced up at her inquiringly. “Well, what do you want me to do with him?”

“Whom?”

“Kahlex—and his unit.”

“You’re asking me?” she replied with some surprise.

“I didn’t say I’d take your advice, but you may offer an opinion.”

“Boil them in oil!” Jean exclaimed venomously.

“That sounds interesting. How is it done?”

“I didn’t mean that literally!” Jean retreated hastily at the serious gleam in his eye. “Do you really want my opinion?”

“I wouldn’t have asked for it if I didn’t,” he replied acerbically.

Sobered, Jean paused to reflect. Finally she said firmly, “Bust them. Take away their rank in such a way that they will never be able to do that again, and never be able to rise to any position of influence.”

Kang looked at her thoughtfully. “I see. And Tirax?”

“For which particular offenses?”

“I had in mind just the present episode: for responding to Kahlex’s inquiry personally, then informing me of his Intelligence coup. Thus he neatly makes me indebted to him for locating and retrieving you, stays within his orders, and gets a small measure of revenge to boot.”

Small. Jean thought back to Tirax’s gloating face on Tsorn and to his hypocritical solicitude on the returning shuttle as he had ‘helped her get on her feet’ and put her through endless unnecessary walking and other activity merely to enjoy her agony, always scrupulously within the letter of his orders. He would find a way to get her no matter what the situation. Yet she had had the opportunity to kill him and found herself unwilling to do so. Should she now ask someone else to do it for her? She shook her head. “Ship him away somewhere, where his loyalty will be helpful to you and his animosity towards humans will be harmless, if that’s possible.”

Kang was standing in front of her now, close enough to bring the faint scent of oil and sweat. He lifted her chin with a finger. “Your plea to spare Aernath I can understand. Possibly even Kahlex. After all, he was doing his duty. But Tirax? You’ve made an implacable enemy there. Yet you didn’t kill him on Peneli, and you had the chance. Eknaar got that out of him. Now you pass up another opportunity to be rid of him?” He was obviously perplexed. “Why? What is it about you humans? You clearly possess the courage to tackle situations even when the odds against you are overwhelming but … you seem to lack the stomach for the messy infighting needed to finish it. How then do you clinch your victories?”

Jean leaned against him, the rough fabric of his uniform rasping against her skin. She shook her head. “I’m not sure I can explain it to you. One of our most honored human prophets once told us to love our enemies. In this case, I don’t pretend I know how to do that. But one of the fundamental convictions I do hold is that any intelligent being can adapt, can grow in understanding to meet new challenges—even Tirax, though I grant you, in his case, I believe the odds of it are incalculably small. However, if I kill him, two more Klingons will simply take his place, their resolve redoubled to revenge his death. What does that gain me? Someone far more recently has said, ‘Those who fight must stop themselves.’ I can stop myself. The most I can do for anyone else is to help them find a situation where they can stop themselves.”

Kang supported her weight for a moment longer, his hand resting on her shoulder. “Can you personally name one instance where you’ve seen that theory work?” he asked curiously.

She looked up at him. “I don’t know. Once, maybe. You tell me.”

Disengaging himself, he turned and swept the clutter from his bed. He turned back and this time his touch was distinctly unclinical. “I can see there is still much for me to learn about you humans, but at the moment my interest is not in fighting or stopping.” He deposited her gently on the bed and shortly joined her. As his hands moved lightly over her skin, he gave a faint chuckle. “In the case of Tirax perhaps your suggestion has some merit after all. He is a fine line officer except for this one understandable obsession and I should hate to lose him …” He grinned appreciatively. “Besides, it appeals to me—’the human has interceded in your behalf, arguing that I need not be concerned in stopping your bumbling efforts. Therefore, I shall be lenient with you this time.’—then let him stew in that tribble-brew for a while.”

Jean grimaced, “You certainly don’t believe in making life easy for anyone, do you?”

“He’s not intended to like it,” Kang rejoined grimly, “but he’ll survive it.”

“It’s me I was thinking of,” Jean answered wryly.

He chuckled again as he moved over her. “You haven’t let Tirax stop you yet. Besides, he can’t possibly hate you any more than he does now. I have no doubt you, too, will survive.” His lips met hers and spoke of other things.