by Sharon Rose
Tevd looked back into the dim module. “No lights or ventilation. I’m gonna miss that space.”
“Not to worry,” Antony said. “There’s an access panel inside for the power connections. I’ll get it fixed.” He touched the comm control. “Theshain, send a status update to the Ontrevay that we recovered our lost navigators.” He put a hand on Tevd’s shoulder. “Come on. Let’s get something to eat and give Theshain a break.”
Tevd returned the gesture. “You have a permanent invitation to join me on any mission, any day, any place.”
Kena was listening to music in her quarters when the message was relayed to her. Antony had gotten through.
Her hammock chair rocked as muscles released. How had all that tension snuck in?
She nudged the floor with her toes, returning the hanging chair to a rhythmic sway.
What had bothered her so much, anyway? She didn’t like the obvious answer. Fear…that Antony would be forced to enter a PitKreelaundun ship. She smirked. A fine indicator of her true opinion of that race. She knew so few of them. Trusted fewer. Sairminnaton hadn’t improved her opinion. Travannesal she trusted, but even his offer of aid didn’t mean that Antony—or the rest of his crew—would be safe.
Kena sighed. She may as well admit it. Concern for his crew was an afterthought. The angst that clawed inside wasn’t about any of them. It was about her. She longed for a Human friend. Unnecessary, she used to claim. Now, a need so deep, it ached.
“Oh, my beloved,” she murmured, “you are enough and more. I don’t know why I…” Her thoughts traveled on, as she blinked at tears, unable to find words. It seemed selfish to think this way. Almost disloyal. As though knowing God himself, the very source and essence of all life and love, was not good enough for her.
Her beloved’s voice formed within her. Selfish? Disloyal? Because you desire communion with your own kind? I designed you for this.
She pondered the silent persistent words. Like a stream that flowed in a continuum, ever whispering a message with infinite layers of truth.
He shifted the layer to reveal more. Communing with a friend does not lessen who I am to you. It allows me to touch you in another way. It lets you enjoy one of my precious children.
Even this indirect glimpse of Antony, through her beloved’s perception, sparked the warmth of friendship. Of hope. She lingered, savoring the thoughts. It wouldn’t be long, now. What was he like? She could hardly wait.
Chapter Five
TarKeen entered the reception room in the government suite and inhaled the refreshing scent of listra. The ivy climbed one of the carved wood columns and wove through the lattice arch toward recessed sun lights. Deep red blooms and dark leaves framed muted tapestries backing the shallow colonnade, like distant scenes through windows of home.
Travannesal relaxed on one of the sofas, sipping prape juice, its hue almost matching the clear amber of his eyes.
“Welcome, Commander,” he said, starting the conversation with the courtesy of TarKeen’s rank. He leaned forward to set his glass on the low table, the topaz in his gold chain of office casting muted reflections as it swung forward.
Captain Leonfir lounged on the other sofa, for he met with Travannesal every evening. The low table between them held empty serving dishes and used bowls. Leonfir turned to TarKeen and stretched a bare arm along the sofa’s back. “Have you heard more of the supply vessel?”
“Yes, good news,” TarKeen said. He rested an elbow on a tall table designed with PitKree in mind. “Antony Galliano sent a status message to the Ontrevay that they have resolved the issue and will not exit slip. They have no need of our offered assistance.”
The arch of Leonfir’s full lips increased. “Excellent. An invitation that I very much hoped they would decline.”
“True, but it had to be offered,” Travannesal said. “A complication that we didn’t need. Much as I’m curious about his surprised expression at her singing, I have no desire to answer comments that she sounded stressed.” Travannesal rose, straightening his sleeveless tunic over his sheer, inner shirt. He picked up a fruit tray from the table, drew near TarKeen, as he often did, and set the tray on the tall table, opening his palm in invitation.
TarKeen ate a few prapes from the yellow cluster that lay amid empty stems. The juice, tart and sweet, burst from them as he chewed. He let his eyes close for an instant. “Slowly ripened.”
“Yes, a prime bunch. We’re not likely to hear from Antony Galliano again. You’ve listened to all the recorded messages, have you not?”
“I have.”
“Any observations?”
“Impossible to determine much since there was little to discuss. Even the first could be interpreted different ways.”
Travannesal nodded. “What do you hear among the crew, TarKeen?”
“Regarding?”
“Pernanyen.”
“The same grumblings persist over the delay of her judgment,” TarKeen said. “Some suggest that, since Kena’s people have sent a Human to her, it should no longer be necessary for her to travel to Earth before completing the constrained link with Pernanyen.”
Travannesal’s brown eyebrows drew together. “Do you agree?”
TarKeen turned his head leftward. “Whether I agree is irrelevant. Only Kena’s opinion matters.” He looked from one to the other. “The three of us promised to keep Pernanyen safe and healthy until Kena returned. We knew of the trip she planned to Earth when we gave our commitments.”
“True,” Travannesal said. “Have you pointed this out to others?”
TarKeen let the hint of a smile touch his lips. “Sir, if I suggest what others should think, I will hear far less.”
“I suppose that is so. Do you happen to know the progress of the English research team?”
“I haven’t heard anything from them in a few days.”
Travannesal nodded. “Have you dined?”
“Not yet. I’m about to step off duty.” As he spoke, he glanced toward Leonfir, who granted approval with a nod.
“Take the prapes, if you like,” Travannesal said. “We have finished.”
TarKeen hooked a finger through the cluster’s tough, spiraled vine, then inclined his head to Travannesal.
TarKeen neared his quarters in the PitKree area of deck two. The hallway was warmer here, for heat spilled out when anyone opened the door to their home. He let the prape cluster dangle from his finger, as he stopped at the growth alcove near his door and opened the lattice cover. Good, the largest parno had darkened. He twisted it off and brushed soil from its buff skin. A pale one bulged beneath it, ready to fill the vacant space. He felt the tamin, hanging from vines in the alcove. Firmer than he liked. His neighbor’s door opened, and a couple with their four children came toward him.
“Are you just now getting time for dinner, TarKeen?” the woman asked, a child tugging on her hand.
He smiled and nodded. “Are any of your alcove’s tamin ripe enough for sauce?”
“Yes, a few, soon to be overripe,” she said as she passed. “They are yours.”
To a degree, he envied them. He missed the activity of family. Granted, the path he’d chosen gave him plenty of activity. It just lacked a crucial spark. TarKeen picked the three ripest tamin from their vine. His empty quarters awaited him, far too large for a single man, but perhaps he would not be alone this evening.
With hands full of produce, he spoke his name to the device beside his entrance, and the door slid open.
Ah! A pleasant evening, after all. ShenLee looked up from the table, a fabric cutter in her hand. Her smile bloomed. She had shed her outer tunic, unnecessary in the warmth of his quarters. A silky inner shirt flowed from her shoulders.
The door slid shut behind him, and he set the food on the preparation counter. Warmth soothed him as he separated the side of his long-sleeved tunic and unhooked the shoulder clasp. He let it slip from his arms and hung it on a peg. Only his unbleached inner shirt still covered his chest.
ShenLee came to him. No point in speaking their greeting. She leaned into his chest and rested her head against the front of his shoulder.
He cupped a hand at the base of her neck and inhaled the subtle sweetness of lenin she used in her hair. They eased into a telepathic link, not to transfer thought, just to be together. Their communion soothed a wistful ache that often troubled her.
She rested there a few minutes, then leaned back and looked up. “I hear your stomach calling.”
He smiled broader than he allowed most to see. “And I feel it calling. Did anyone see you enter?”
“No, nor even turn down this hallway.”
“Excellent. We have all the time we want.” He turned to the counter, pulled a tube of oil from its clasp, and squeezed some over the skillet platter. Cleaning the parno, he asked, “What did your day bring?”
“A failed compression valve with no specifications in the records.” Most of her peers would have reviled whoever omitted that data, but ShenLee’s voice purred. “I got to design it from scratch and test it. Worked beautifully!” She fed tamin into the spinner and pumped it a couple times, turning the ripe fruit to red pulp. “What do you want in this?”
TarKeen cubed the parno while the skillet warmed. “A couple cloves of gair and some ramery leaves.”
She snapped off a few stems of ramery from the back-lit planter on the wall and stripped their leaves into the spinner. The gair was in a clear tilt container, which she flipped open. Breaking off aromatic cloves from the clump, she said, “VanDar ate dinner with a group of us. He says the Collaborative supply vessel notified the Ontrevay of some problem. And, that Travannesal offered them assistance.” She stowed the gair and cleaned the oils from her fingertips.
He would know, of course, since his profession related to communication. “True.” TarKeen tipped the chopped parno into the skillet, and it sizzled in the oil.
“What is he hoping for?” ShenLee asked. “What if they ask to bring their vessel into our hold?”
Such concern in her voice. “They won’t.” He shook buckrill seeds over the frying parno. “They’ve already resolved their issue and told the Ontrevay that they won’t exit slip. Travannesal needs to maintain a cooperative posture.”
“But so much could go wrong if they had accepted his offer.”
He reached over to set the desired temperature on the spinner and turned it on. The blades whirred as he answered. “They don’t want to enter our ship. Only dire need would compel them to. If so, then we’d gain their goodwill by helping them. Travannesal’s offer was wise.”
She leaned sideways against the counter and folded her arms. “Yes, that’s obvious, now that you say it. Listening to VanDar too much is addling my logic.”
“That’s enough to addle anyone’s logic.” TarKeen flipped the sizzling parno. “It’s a shame you need to. How is it going?”
“Well,” she purred. “He’s forgiven me for supporting Kena during the trial. I tried persuading him that we needed to win Kena’s approval in order to keep the Collaborative from interfering with our efforts. That’s a lost cause, but he knows I believe it, so he no longer doubts my motives. Instead, I’ve persuaded him that Kena won’t return. That, of course, will discredit Travannesal’s decision and make him vulnerable. Only patience is necessary for VanDar to gain his ends.” The corners of her mouth drew down. “I’m hoping that will keep him from doing anything stupid.”
TarKeen smiled at her but teased. “What if Kena doesn’t return?”
ShenLee’s slender eyebrows darted together. “She will, though. Won’t she? Do you doubt that?”
“No. Not that the future can be known, but I’m sure she intended to return when she left us.” He stirred the parno again and took out a bowl as the spinner shut down. “Regardless, anything that will delay his action is worthwhile. Just don’t let him know how often you see me.”
“I’ve covered that, too. I asked him if he wanted me to try getting closer to you so I can find out what you’re thinking.”
A laugh shook his chest. “Did you?”
“He said yes.” She pursed her lips, but her chuckle forced them open.
“I’m surprised you even bothered to check whether you were seen entering.”
“We’ll still have to be a little circumspect. He warned me not to be too obvious, for you might figure out what I’m doing.” She chuckled again.
TarKeen tested the parno. Crispy outside, just softening on the inside. Perfect. “I’m glad he has such a high regard for my intelligence.”
He scooped parno into the bowl. “This whole situation would be ridiculous if it wasn’t so dangerous. The Laundun ruling family of Frayunomen pumps me for information, and now the PitKree family of Kell pumps you for information.” He paused to trace his fingertips down the side of her face. “And neither of them know…”
Her smile, both sweet and alluring, tugged at her lips.
He poured sauce over the vegetable. Steam rose, and the smell made him salivate.
ShenLee picked up the cluster of prapes and followed him to the table. She sat on one of the high stools with a graceful, lifting twist. “Do you think they’re suspicious?”
“It’s safe enough for now. There’s always general information I can give them.”
“Why the frown?”
He eased it. “Just ruing the day I had to tell Leonfir of the unrest among the PitKree. I still don’t know how he took my final remarks—whether he trusts my loyalty or suspects I could be involved in treason.”
“You seem to slide through it. There have been no repercussions, and Leonfir and Travannesal still ask you for information. I take that as favorable.”
“Yes, they do.” He blew on a spoonful of parno. “Travannesal asked about progress on deciphering English. I’ll need to visit the communication research team tomorrow, and VanDar had better be there. I do not need the appearance that the heir of the non-ruling family of Kell is disregarding his profession to meddle in government. I’d be expected to report that. An investigation of VanDar is not something I want to see!”
“Convenient. You’ve given me something to report that indicates your desire to protect him.”
TarKeen’s nostrils shifted down. “We’ll soon have a representative of the Shennasee family here, too. VanDar must maintain consistent pursuit of his profession.”
“What a strange coincidence.” ShenLee smirked. “This information also requires him to spend his time on legitimate work, even while you appear loyal to him.”
TarKeen snorted. “Loyal to VanDar is far from being loyal to the PitKree cause. So foolish of him to muddy the true issues with his power lust.”
“It is, but the search for a new PitKree home-world is still foremost in all of our thoughts. VanDar only gets support from those who see him as a means to that end.” She turned her head in a dismissive gesture. “It would only be one generation of PitKree majority until the power balance is restored in our government. That would be enough to establish a fleet of our own ships for the search. Even if we must put up with VanDar, it’s not so awful long term.” She tugged a prape from the cluster as she spoke, then popped it into her mouth. “These are prime!”
TarKeen smiled at her pleasure and savored his cuisine, the herbed tamin a piquant contrast to mild parno. A simple dish, but he’d enjoyed it for as long as he could remember. When the edge of his hunger was sated, he glanced at the fabric spread across the other end of the table. “What are you making?”
“A dance tunic.” She fingered the rich fabric, the shade of a dark forest. “This will be softly pleated over the pierced gold. You’ll barely notice the gold underlay until I spin. Then, it’ll flare out. I can’t wait to try the effect.”
His chest warmed. “I can’t wait to see it.” She was always happiest when designing something. If only she could do just that. Not meddle in risky intrigue, nor endure that wistful ache.
He finished his warm course and shared the prapes with her. She could
never resist them. When the last one disappeared past her lips, he came around the table to her. He wouldn’t pretend nothing was wrong.
“Have you heard from your brother on-planet?”
Her glimmer faded.
“How are your sons? Have you received bad news?”
“No, good news. The scandal has waned. They both fit into his family as though born to it. My brother’s a good father to them.” The muscles of her face twitched, skewing her simple beauty. “And his wife a good mother.” Her voice cracked on the final word. She took a breath and steadied it. “The taint of having their father executed for treason—and their mother arrested on the same charge—will not destroy their lives.”
Her voice faltered again, so he drew her against his chest. “You were acquitted, ShenLee. There is no taint from their mother.” He held her as her breathing eased, waiting till she would let him link with her again, to soothe the recurring sting of her loss.
Chapter Six
TarKeen strode through the communication research area. “Greetings, Laquelynn.”
A few members of the team turned his way. VanDar, intent on his work, only lifted his eyes for an instant.
Laquelynn leaned far into her high-backed chair, not even needing to tilt her head to look up at him. “Greetings, TarKeen. Does our illustrious government inquire into our progress again?”
That certainly made it clear her team was not within the command structure. “No, ma’am.” TarKeen let a touch of surprise flavor his calm voice. “Travannesal only asked a simple question. You must know that comprehending English would be valuable. Why so irritated?”
She quirked her lips and sat up. “Sorry. This lot has me irritated.” She swept a hand in a broad stroke to take in the displays covering the walls. Her eyes shifted more than her head as she looked at him. “And don’t stand there towering over me. Sit down if you want to talk.”
Much as he disliked the low seating preferred by the Laundun, he didn’t mind complying for Laquelynn. Age had turned her hair to darkest brown. Perhaps stiffened her joints, as well. Did that deepen her frustration? He looked over the strange symbols displayed around her. “I hope you’re not expecting me to grasp meaning from all this.”