by Sharon Rose
“It’s such a shame, Anthony, that you don’t have a dog with you on your travels.”
“Yeah,” he snorted. “That’s what I need. A dog pooping in zero G.”
“Zero G? Why?”
“This next mission starts with a month in a small resupply vessel. No gravity.”
“Ugh. Sounds awful! I suppose you think it’s fun.”
He grinned. “I do.”
She shook her head. “When will you set out?”
“It’s not certain yet. I’ll drop you a message within a day to let you know. But right now, I need to get ready for a briefing.”
“I’ll let you go, then, dear. Thanks so much for setting up a live link. I love you, and I pray for your safety.”
Those prayers probably made her feel secure. Not something he wanted to undermine. “Thanks, Mom. I love you, too.”
Antony pressed the closure control on his computer, and the extensions absorbed back into a small pack that fit into his hand. He clipped it to his belt, then shoved his arms into a cross-over jacket, which fastened at his waist. Time to switch back to the Prednian language and pay attention to racial idiosyncrasies.
Chapter Two
Antony entered the designated area. Cushy chairs were clustered before a mural of an alien landscape. This was no briefing room.
A Prednian at a desk turned his round eyes toward him. “Identity, please?”
“Navigator Antony Galliano,” he said, stopping at the desk.
Antony focused on emfrel. The nearby Prednian was most obvious. Beyond a door, he sensed a Meklehon, Gordahl perhaps. And from behind, a Veet approached.
The Prednian frowned at his screen. “This says Mark Antony Galliano.”
“I’m sure it does. You can ignore the first name. I always do.”
The Prednian touched his computer. “You Humans have such inconsistent names.” He pointed to a cluster of chairs. “You may wait over there. It shouldn’t be long.”
Antony strolled to the chairs as the Prednian said, “Identity, please?” to the Veet.
“Senior navigator Tevd.”
“You may wait over there. It shouldn’t be long.” The Prednian sounded like a recording. Not the faintest variation in voice or words.
Antony’s lips twitched. The Veet turned to him in that moment, his broad mouth also quivering. Tevd’s eyes were level with his own—a nice change from looking down at shorter peers. His hair was as black as Antony’s, though much straighter, and his skin a few shades lighter.
Tevd held out his right hand. “I’ve never had a chance to try this before, but your greeting gesture is something like this, isn’t it?”
“It is.” Antony grasped his wrist and ignored the delay as Tevd returned the grip. “Not many bother to learn it.”
Tevd twitched a shoulder. “I suspect we’ll soon become well acquainted. No sense in keeping distance.”
Probable, since they’d been summoned for the same time. Since he outranked Antony, his friendliness was all the more appreciated.
“I heard you a minute back,” Tevd said, “but Human names are such a mouthful. Do I use “An-to-ny or Gal-ah-no.”
Trust a Veet to drop a syllable. “Better stick with Antony. That works best for most races, anyway.”
Tevd grinned. “Always good to have an accommodation ready. I offer the choice of Tevid for those who cannot combine vd.”
Emfrel intensified, and Antony turned to acknowledge the Meklehon who watched them from the now open doorway. Common to his race, his torso seemed too long and his legs too short.
“I am Gordahl.” He executed the Meklehon bow. “Thank you for joining me.”
Antony responded by inclining his head, and Tevd brought one knee forward.
“Come,” Gordahl said. He turned back through the doorway and led them into his over-sized office, complete with a 3-D display, which portrayed a broad section of space. Gordahl pointed out features as he spoke. “This is our position. Here is the spatial rift leading toward the nebula. The course marked is that followed by the Ontrevay. They exited the rift here and traveled between the nebula and PitKreelaundun space, ending at the SMG76428 system. After collecting samples, they moved farther out to their current position.”
Hm. Why move farther out? Antony studied the display.
“What do you think of the route?” Gordahl asked.
Antony let Tevd answer. “It’s direct, but the area looks messy. Necessary, perhaps. They couldn’t enter PitKreelaundun space, and I assume they were pressed for time.”
“They were. Your observations, Antony?”
“I can’t really say anything different with this level of detail. Did they have problems?”
“Two.” Gordahl compressed his lips. “A collision in slip, which crushed a sensor array. When they dropped from slip for repairs, they had another, which ended the life of their chief navigator, Frethan of Tenelli.”
Tevd made a catching sound in his throat. “I’ve heard of him. That’s a tremendous loss to the Collaborative, as well as his friends.”
“Yes, it is,” Gordahl said.
Maybe this explained why Kena had signed on with no other Humans aboard. Tenelli could be trusted, but the Grfdn…The change to a Grfdn superior must have been a jolt in more ways than one. Antony sought for something to fill the uncomfortable silence. “I never knew Frethan, but losing the chief navigator is a blow under any circumstances.”
“Also true. The captain, Ghent, had to delay promotions, and the second navigator was killed during one of the sampling missions.”
Antony’s eyes widened. “Then…was Hrndl promoted to chief navigator from among the senior navs?”
Gordahl regarded him. “Yes, though not without qualifications. In case you’re worried about the only Human on board, Kena Talgarth is apparently a close friend of Hrndl. Surprising between a Human and a Grfdn, but then Kena is a surprising lady.”
Antony inclined his head. At least, Gordahl wasn’t the sort to pretend cultural issues didn’t matter. But close friends? Probably overstated.
“In addition to losing two key navigators,” Gordahl said, “the Ontrevay lost one of its large transport craft and a small craft. Risk severity cannot be overstated in this area.” He touched the controls embedded in the ring surrounding the display as he spoke. A yellow course plan appeared. “This is the proposed course for the resupply mission. It avoids the most dangerous debris.”
Tevd’s brow lowered. “But sir, that is within PitKreelaundun space. It’s a treaty violation.”
Gordahl inclined his head. “Unless we have approval from the PitKreelaundun government.”
“Do we?” Antony asked, his pitch edging up.
“Under certain circumstances, yes.” Gordahl turned from the display. “Come. Sit down.” He strode to the far side of an oval table and took the central chair. Tevd and Antony took the chairs opposite him, which had already been re-formed to accommodate their heights.
“Antony, do you know Kena?” Gordahl asked.
“I haven’t had the pleasure of meeting her yet.”
A slow smile formed, relieving Gordahl’s solemn expression. “Unusual phrasing in the Prednian language. Is that a Human expression?”
“Yes.”
“I must remember. It fits well with Meklehon courtesies.” He rested a hand on the table. “I met Kena once. An intriguing woman. You’ve been with the Collaborative many years, Tevd. Have you run across her?”
“No, but I’ve heard of her. She pulled off some amazing maneuvers a few years back, while being chased by PitKreelaundun fighters.”
“True, though her greatest accomplishments may well be cultural maneuvers. But crew first. Two other navigators, both Tenelli, have accepted the mission. If you’d like to see their qualifications, open your computers. Two scientists will also be on board, a Prednian and a Dantokrellie.”
While Gordahl spoke, Antony set his computer on the table and pressed the re-form button. A screen extended abov
e it, and the input device spread out on the table’s surface. Crew info scrolled across the screen. Tevd had fourteen years with the Collaborative and a solid navigation record. No wonder the Ontrevay wanted him. He was prime for promotion to second navigator, as soon as an opportunity came up. The other two navigators were younger but had good stats.
“Tevd,” Gordahl said, “take note of Antony’s experience in the Earth Space Consortium.”
Why was he bringing that up? Non-Collaborative experience was never considered.
Tevd scrolled data, then glanced toward Antony. “I can see why your stint as a junior navigator only lasted a few months, and why your current nav stats are top level.”
Antony nodded. “Well, thanks, but…I don’t see what my Earth-system records have to do with anything. It’s not as though my Collaborative stats aren’t on par with two Tenelli navigators.”
“Don’t downplay your skills,” Gordahl said. “You exceed their levels and at least match Tevd. But for your role on this mission, you need to exceed Tevd. Therefore, he must know of your earlier experience.”
Antony and Tevd exchanged blank looks.
Gordahl interlaced his fingers and leaned on the table. “Now, we will talk about what is not in the preparation files I sent you earlier. But first you must understand, until Kena is ready to release it, this information is confidential. You will agree to this restriction, or you may leave now.”
They both gave formal assent, as a tingle wormed down Antony’s neck and shoulders. What had happened to her?
Gordahl took a deep breath. “While Kena was on an expedition, she found a ruptured PitKreelaundun craft with a sole survivor: a child about a year or two old.”
Antony’s brows shot up, but he held his tongue.
“Kena rescued her. Moments later, a PitKreelaundun ship called the Epri7 came out of slip and challenged Kena. She couldn’t outrun them, and she refused to surrender her craft to them, lest they learn our advanced technology. She exited the craft using an EVA device and took the child with her. She ordered her support navigator to get out of range, hoping that the PitKreelaundun would come for the child rather than capture her craft. They did as she hoped.”
Antony couldn’t contain himself any longer. “But then, they have Kena, too?”
“Thias!” Tevd exhaled his race’s expletive.
“She is safe on the Ontrevay now,” Gordahl said. “Let me finish, please.”
Antony forced himself to lean back, but his jaw still clenched.
“You are correct,” Gordahl said. “Both Kena and the child were taken into the Epri7. I’m going to skip over a lot of PitKreelaundun legalities. I’ll give you Ghent’s report to fill the boring hours of your trip. For now, we’ll stick with critical points. The PitKreelaundun are ruled by certain families. One member, Pernanyen by name, is on board the Epri7. She asserts that the government is disturbed by the tension at our borders and seeks a means to improve it.”
Tevd snorted.
Gordahl stared at him.
“Sorry. I’ve had to dodge their fire more than once. It’s hard to believe they have fine intentions.”
“Be prepared to change your opinion,” Gordahl said. “We cannot alter the past, but we control the choices of today. Consider them well, for they create our future.”
Gordahl settled back. “Pernanyen was amazed that Kena would rescue an enemy’s child and return her at considerable risk to herself. She promised to release Kena and withdraw so her partner could pick her up again. They conversed while Kena approached, and also, after she gave the child to them.” He compressed his lips and let out a long breath.
“Pernanyen conceived the idea that substantial progress could be made toward peace if she and Kena had more time together. She still insisted that she would let Kena leave…after an unspecified period. They acclimated Kena to their emfrel.” He focused on Antony. “That seems to have been worse than acclimation to any of the Collaborative races.”
Antony closed his eyes a moment. He’d been through many emfrel acclimations. They were necessary if one wanted to associate with other races. Some weren’t so bad. Others were excruciating. Now, Kena had been subjected to worse. “Did she lose memory?”
“No. The PitKreelaundun have techniques that eliminate that risk. They’ve shared one, which our doctors are now analyzing. It holds promise for alleviating some acclimation stress. A hard-won advantage from her ordeal, but a useful one.”
He’d hold judgment on that until he talked to Kena. “Please continue,” Antony said.
“She spent a few days on their ship. The only way to get her back was for Ghent, himself, to take a stripped-down craft into the Epri7. Which he did. I believe her situation was quite difficult, but I do not know the details. They could not be sent in a communication without risking the, uh, truce she seems to have formed with the PitKreelaundun.”
Antony could only stare, but Tevd voiced his astonishment. “She formed a truce while being held prisoner?”
“Be careful with your word choice. The PitKreelaundun called her their guest. They did release both her and Ghent, who now have the distinction of being the only two people in the entire Collaborative who can claim friendship with PitKreelaundun individuals.”
Gordahl slowed his speech. “Further, the PitKreelaundun have given permission for a resupply vessel to traverse their space, provided…” He emphasized the last word and looked back and forth between Tevd and Antony. “Provided that it is under the command of either a Plynteth or a Human.”
Antony didn’t dare look at Tevd. It sounded very much like he was about to be given command in preference to a superior. This was not done. Antony wasn’t about to say anything until the offer was stated.
Gordahl turned to Tevd. “In a few minutes, I’m going to ask you a question, and I want you to have time to think about it.” Tevd drew a quick breath, but Gordahl preempted him. “No. I know Veet anger when I see it. Hold your opinion until you hear the rest of this.”
Gordahl leaned back in his chair. “Both Ghent and Hrndl want you on the Ontrevay, Tevd. They have many skilled navigators, but most are young. There is no substitute for experience. They need you. The only way you can get there is under the command of a navigator with less experience than you. It breaks our rules, but the vessel must enter PitKreelaundun space, and we need to consider their views. If you can’t tolerate this situation, you are free to decline the mission. So, think it through.”
Gordahl turned to Antony. “There are still a few things I need to know about you that are not covered in any of your records.”
“Sir?”
“First, are you a telepath?”
This again. “You cannot find that in my records because Humans are a non-telepathic race. We’ve been reiterating that since the Tenelli first showed up in our system. So no, I am not a telepath.”
Gordahl shook his head. “And yet, Kena, a Human, is a telepath. You’re going to have to come up with a better answer.”
Antony sighed. He’d explained it so many times. “Some of the space-faring Humans learn certain skills that appear to other races to be the equivalent of telepathy. It isn’t the same, and it’s dangerous to assume it is, so we will continue to repeat that we are not telepathic. If you’re asking whether I possess those skills, I do not. Does it matter?”
“The skills don’t matter, but understanding is crucial. We do not intend that you have direct contact with the PitKreelaundun. But if you do, make sure you give that entire answer. Telepathy is intrinsic to them. They have a hard time comprehending its absence. And now, my next question: Can you sing?”
“What?”
Gordahl laughed. “You forgot the so-careful control of your expression on that one. I’ll admit, it’s a question I’ve never asked before. Did I pronounce that Human word correctly, sing?”
“Yes, but—”
“Can you?”
“All Humans can sing.”
Gordahl shook his head, but the corners o
f his eyes still creased. “A critical requirement of my position is a thorough understanding of the cultures and nuances of every race in the Collaborative. You Humans don’t make that easy. None of you are telepaths, but some of you are. All of you can sing, but with my own ears, I’ve heard Humans say they cannot sing.”
Antony chuckled as the commander continued.
“You must know that no member of any other race can sing even the shortest note. Take pity on my ignorance and explain how those who sing, cannot sing.”
Antony stilled his laughter. “It’s a matter of degree. They mean they don’t sing well.”
“And you?”
“Yes. I was in a, uh—I think you would call it a musician group—during adolescence, so I have sung publicly. But what does this have to do with anything?”
“To prove you are Human. Ghent’s orders, which I endorse, are that no member of the resupply crew may enter a PitKreelaundun ship. Which raises the question of how the PitKreelaundun will know whether the commander is Human. Kena sang for them. I suspect they were rather fascinated by it, and they learned that only Humans can do it. Hence, the commander must be able to prove his or her race by voice.”
“I see,” Antony said, stretching the words. “In fact, it proves only my race, not that I have command.”
“That is a very good point. If some unforeseen circumstance does force direct contact with the PitKreelaundun, all six of you must know you, Antony, have command for the duration of the trip. My offer to you is a temporary promotion to the rank of senior navigator and command of the supply vessel. Once you reach the Ontrevay, Hrndl will reestablish your rank consistent with Collaborative guidelines.”