Diverse Demands

by Sharon Rose

  They each responded, “Yes, sir.”

  Ghent rested his forearms on the table, interlacing his fingers. “While on the Epri7, I acclimated to PitKreelaundun emfrel through a method they call rapid acclimation. A method so thorough, it enables immediate contact with their telepathic energy.”

  All four widened their eyes at that. No surprise. The Collaborative’s gradual technique gave a fast start but couldn’t complete the job.

  Tevd sounded incredulous. “You linked immediately?”

  “I rested a few hours,” Ghent said, “but it could have been immediate. This particular method does not require the delay of several days we’re accustomed to.”

  Ghent paused. “The captain, Leonfir, and I exchanged considerable information, often finding that our knowledge of facts differed. That was why we chose to link—so we could perceive what the other believed about those facts.” He scanned the silent group. “Over the coming days, you will learn of tra-pentazine. How to scan for it and calculate possible trajectories. How it responds to gravity. What triggers explosions, and how to predict them. The PitKreelaundun have known these things for centuries. But here is the important point.”

  Ghent leaned forward. “It’s nearly impossible for the PitKreelaundun to grasp that we’ve just now discovered tra-pentazine. This dual knowledge gap has warped our understanding of every interaction. Some of their people have died as a result of our gravity ships’ maneuvers along the ejection arms. When they blame us, we treat the accusations as nonsense. In some cases, the PitKreelaundun have retaliated for deaths that we never even heard of.”

  The new navigators each moved to some degree, either their faces or bodies or both, depending on their race.

  “You are free to comment,” Ghent said. “We need to get this out and understood.” When no one made an immediate reply, Ghent prompted, “Tevd?”

  He took a moment to respond. “It sounds like we are now cast in the role of aggressor, but that just doesn’t fit. PitKreelaundun fighters attack us while we’re mining benzlium. We’re in small craft—no gravity fields.” He extended a hand toward Kena. “You’ve been chased. I’ve seen the records. Were you threatening their lives when they pursued you?”

  “No,” she said. “Your point is valid. Are you referring to that incident near the hammer-shaped debris?”

  He nodded. “That was an incredible maneuver, by the way.”

  “Yes, well…thanks, but don’t copy it. When I met the PitKreelaundun, Commander TarKeen checked their records for my name and found reference to that event. They had investigated it. The PitKreelaundun pilot, who died while trying to kill me, was judged to be violating the treaty, both by the pilots with him and by their government. I would guess that he chased me out of sheer hatred. No doubt, he felt it was justified. Try to grasp that they assign blame to us, just as we assign blame to them.”

  “That is a very real problem,” Ghent said. “Leonfir and Travannesal of Frayunomen, a primary member of their government, are now addressing misconceptions, just as I am here. But diffusing hatred is hard. It is crucial that we prevent future harm.”

  After a brief silence, Ghent said, “Voice your concerns. Ask questions. I’ll gladly share what I learned from Leonfir.”

  Kena leaned back, listening and watching, as they debated the veracity of new information. Truth she knew with utter certainty. Their doubt was understandable. They lacked the knowledge she and Ghent possessed. But could they be convinced? Perhaps Ghent was experimenting with that very question.

  Antony said less than the others. He glanced her way often. So hard to meet his eyes.

  Chapter Ten

  TarKeen strode toward Pernanyen’s quarters on deck one. Near the government suite, but outside it. That simple fact spoke volumes.

  Two guards stood on duty, one PitKree and one Laundun, chosen because TarKeen could trust them. Imperative, for peace rested on Pernanyen’s young shoulders.

  Setting aside his authority to enter uninvited, TarKeen requested access and waited. The door slid open. She greeted him from the sofa, with a voice as dull as her surroundings. Bare walls and simple furnishings, so different from the sumptuous government suites she’d grown up in.

  “I’m told,” TarKeen said, “that you didn’t leave your quarters yesterday.”

  “P’fu,” she uttered. “Would you enjoy walking in the gardens under guard?”

  “You are under protection, not under guard.” He drew nearer to her. “Don’t make your isolation worse than it is. Though you cannot link, you can converse on other subjects. After Kena returns to complete the constrained link, you will resume a normal life.”

  “Normal, TarKeen?”

  “Yes. If the primaries permit you to be reinstated as Daughter of Frayunomen, you’ll live the role you’ve trained for since childhood. If they do not, then you’ll choose a common role and live like everyone else. You will have one form of normal or another. Wallowing in isolation now, will only make your readjustment harder.” He extended a hand to her. “Get up.”

  She crimped her lips and grasped his hand, allowing him to pull her to her feet. “You’re more persuasive than my friends. I suppose they are too gentle.”

  “Very likely,” TarKeen said, drawing her to walk beside him in a slow circuit of the sitting room. “Consider this training on the value and timing of firmness.”

  “You’re wrong about normal, though,” she said. “It’s not just that I’ve trained to be my family’s primary. It’s not about duty, either. Some things need to change. You know how critical this is.”

  “Agreed.”

  “I determined, years ago, to be the catalyst for change,” she said. “Doing anything else will never feel normal for me. I would just be trying to live someone else’s life. I’ll do it if I must, but, oh…” She splayed her fingers. “…what torment to wake every day to the knowledge that I have failed my people!”

  His chest tightened. An intolerable fate. One he also feared, but he couldn’t speak that. “It’s too early to surrender hope,” TarKeen said. “Once Kena completes the link with you, I see no reason for the other primaries to refuse your reinstatement. Have you heard anything from her lately?”

  Pernanyen frowned. “I asked her about Antony Galliano—Antony, she calls him. It seems, she rarely talks to him. The Collaborative is incomprehensible.” Pernanyen left his side, spreading her hands. “They are on different shifts. So he can get to know other navigators, Kena says. But not her. How can that be sane? She is the one who needs a Human.”

  Strange. TarKeen halted. “Perhaps it makes sense to them for reasons we don’t perceive. Cultures vary.”

  She turned her head leftward, dismissing the subject. “Do you know yet when the Shennasee representative will arrive?”

  “No. We can’t even define the approach course. Apparently, Jenarsig is not sending the nearest family member. He doesn’t even seem to have chosen the representative.”

  She darted her gaze up to his and murmured, “Odd.”

  TarKeen waited for more, then prompted. “Why would he delay after insisting that an observer is needed? Is there discord in the Shennasee ruling family?”

  “I don’t know,” Pernanyen said, “but that would be an ironic twist. If one could draw a picture of discord, it would look very much like Jenarsig.”

  “Why do you say that? He issues fewer statements than any other primary.”

  “True,” she said. “He rarely debates, but his votes are always…oh…they reveal his astringent personality.”

  That didn’t fit with TarKeen’s earlier impressions. “He voted in support of Travannesal’s decision, allowing Kena extra time to complete the constrained link.”

  “He did, but I don’t know why, for he is most precise in applications of law.” She stared at nothing, then said, “Speculation holds no value.”

  That tone. He would get nothing more. “Come.” He led her through the door of her quarters and addressed the guards. “Escort Perna
nyen to one of the gardens.”

  Chapter Eleven

  Tevd propped himself against a wall in Antony’s quarters. “How was second shift?”

  Antony shook his head. “I still can’t please Jorlit, if that’s what you’re asking.” He settled his guitar in its open case on the sofa.

  “Could you be misinterpreting him? He hung around at the beginning of third shift for implementation of the course you designed. He and Netlyn wouldn’t have chosen yours if it wasn’t the best option.”

  Antony snugged the padding toward the guitar’s neck, triggering the expandable cushion to surround the instrument. “Did he say anything about it?”

  “Netlyn asked him who designed it, so he said you did. Nothing more.”

  “Well, he said more to me.” Antony straightened. “Three of us designed options. I happened to finish first. He complained that I was slow.”

  “What? He must have been joking.”

  “I’ve worked with Tenelli my whole career. He wasn’t joking. Apparently, Kena can do it in half the time.”

  Tevd crossed his arms. “I’m getting a little tired of hearing her praises.”

  Antony slipped his guitar picks into a pocket of the case. “You better get used to it. Have you seen the flight records of when tra-pentazine shattered her craft?”

  “Yeah, I admit, she’s good. Very good. But she’s not the only one.”

  “I don’t care if they praise her to the highest. I just wish they’d stop treating me like a junior nav.” Antony rolled his shoulders. “At least I’m done with second shift. A day off, and then I can try to please Netlyn.”

  “I hope you do better with her, but I have my doubts. It’s because of Kena, you know. She barely even looks at you. They all notice.”

  Antony couldn’t deny that. She always spent a few minutes with second shift, but never near him. Still, he had his own ideas about that. “How could she look at me? This shift arrangement doesn’t give us time together.”

  One corner of Tevd’s mouth twisted down.

  “Besides,” Antony said, grinning, “I have a strategy in mind. I’ll bet she looks at me tonight.” He closed the guitar case, making sure there were no impingements.

  “The way you pack that thing,” Tevd said, “I’d warrant it’s so fragile a harsh look could shatter it. What’s this strategy?”

  “When Opyera asked me to play this evening, I got him talking.” Antony stood the case on end. “He knows a little about Human music and Kena’s preferences.”

  “And now you do, too?”

  “Of course. She likes to sample historic music. Which makes sense, considering.”

  Tevd’s eyes went blank. “Considering what?”

  Oh, yeah, he wouldn’t understand that. Antony smiled. “Never mind. I just happen to have a surprising set of historic accompaniments to play with.”

  “What’s an accompaniment?”

  “Recorded ensembles that allow instruments to be muted. I silence the recorded guitar and play my own version.” Antony grabbed his computer from the table and clipped it to his belt. “Nothing unusual to a Human, but these are old songs, long out of public notice. She’ll never have heard them. Trust me, that’s more than enough to entice a music history buff.” He picked up his guitar. “Let’s go.”

  Tevd followed him from his quarters. They encountered Drenann and some of her new associates at the next turn.

  “Oh, you’re playing tonight,” she said, coming to his side. “Please say you’ll sing, too.”

  His expression softened. “As you wish, ma’am.”

  “Have you heard him before?” a Dantokrellie asked her.

  “Yes, a few times on the trip here.”

  Talk flowed around Antony, and he relaxed. No tension in this group. When they reached the common room, Theshain, Farian, and Pelta greeted them. It felt like a little reunion.

  Antony chose a spot on the wide, cushioned bench that stretched along the back wall between corner exits. Plenty of room for his guitar case, which he could move to provide a seat for Kena. He pulled the instrument from its padding, while the others gathered around him, chatting.

  Antony extended his computer in music mode, his selections already queued up. Some instrumentals as well as songs. One, in particular, he’d save for when Kena arrived. There was just something about it that felt right.

  He hoped the songs worked, for reopening these music files wasn’t easy. Two years. Even practicing them last night…He stuffed that train of thought. These songs were treasures. It was time he quit hiding from them. Time to let past joys and grief reside only in the past. Kena was very much now and very much an unknown. Especially, her days on the Epri7. If music could give him an in with her, he’d play anything.

  Opyera drifted over to greet him. “Someone requested a beverage counter. I don’t know why, when we’re here for music and conversation, but would you like something?”

  Antony hid his amusement. “Thank you, but Theshain just went to get us some.” He ran a pick over each string, allowing the mechanism to sense pitch and perfect the tension. The room was growing crowded, and voices drowned his tuning.

  “Shall I quiet everyone?” Opyera asked.

  “No need to interrupt them. I’ll just play softly.”

  “Ah. Background music.” That wasn’t a Prednian term, but he said it with an air of understanding.

  Someone distracted Opyera, and Antony began his first subtle piece, easing into the music. The room gradually quieted, half the occupants stopping to listen, while others talked near the beverage counter.

  Antony paused for a few minutes to respond to comments. Bodies shifted, and he glimpsed Kena’s profile across the room. A tingle flowed down his arms.

  Tevd leaned near him. “There she is.”

  Antony started the accompaniment, then struck the first chords of These Thousand Hills.

  Something akin to wonder lifted Kena’s brow and turned her to him.

  “Yes, you caught her eye!” Tevd whispered, a laugh in his voice.

  Antony sang the first line, and Kena’s lips stretched in an open-mouthed smile.

  Quon approached her with a glass and said something.

  No, don’t talk to her now!

  Her lips moved as she took the glass, but her gaze remained on Antony. Quon tapped someone’s shoulder to move him aside and cleared a path for Kena. She neared, her eyes glowing. Then, she drew a deep breath and—amazing—joined him in the chorus.

  He shook his head, grinning. Laughter bubbled from her. He started the second verse, and her eyes closed as she swayed with the music.

  He found a moment to murmur, “Third verse is yours, if you like.”

  She nodded. Her voice rose and lilted like a living wind sailing over mountains and valleys. This verse mentioned heaven, and…oh, he was there!

  She continued to sing with him through the chorus and final verse. For one instant, her eyes widened as she sang of the coming storm. The expression passed, and joy returned. They brought the song to its gentle close in perfect harmony.

  The room had gone silent, but Kena was all that mattered to him.

  She asked, “Where did you find that?” in the same instant that Antony asked, “How do you know that?” They both burst into laughter.

  Antony shoved his guitar case out of the way, and she perched sideways on the cushion. Chatter ran through the crowd again.

  He hoped they’d keep it up and leave Kena and him alone. “I found it hidden in a secret room, of all places.”

  “What?” she squeaked. Her nose wrinkled as she gave her head a quick shake.

  “I kid you not,” he said. “We had no idea it was there when my mom got the house. Didn’t even find it for three years. The house was built in the last era, and in the Ozarks, every structure is on a hill. Someone had dug back under the upper floor foundation to make a hidden room.”

  She shook her head, her full smile transforming her face.

  “It was packed
with music spanning more than a century. All different sorts of media and their playing devices.”

  She pressed her hands together, touching her fingertips to her lips. Her eyes sparkled. She looked as excited as he had been when he’d discovered the stash.

  “I even found the most amazing music box.” He framed the size, holding his hands shoulder-width apart. “Crafted from wood that carries sound like a true instrument. It has clockwork gears to keep the speed steady and twenty disks to go with it.” He smirked. “The recording technology is beyond funny. Little tabs stick up from the disks and hit chimes in the proper timing.”

  “Oh! I’ve heard one of those. At a museum in Branson, Missouri. It played a waltz, the Blue Danube.”

  “He tilted his head back, half-laughing. “That’s got to be the same one.”

  “What?”

  “I donated all of it to the Museum of Music in Branson.”

  “Seriously?” She touched his hand.

  He just laughed again, cupping her fingers, which rested in his. They had an audience he didn’t want, but Tevd had intercepted Quon, while Farian and Theshain talked with a few others who had headed their way.

  “How could you bear to part with it?” Kena asked.

  “Took me a while,” he said, “but it’s not like I could use any of it in zero G between asteroids. The museum duplicates old music anyway, so they gave me a copy of the full set in exchange for the donation.” He tapped his computer. “It fits much better on here.”

  “Is that where you found These Thousand Hills?”

  “It is.”

  Her eyes shown. “I can hardly believe it. My father bought recordings there—quite a few, ’cause he’s a cultural historian—and that was among them. I just love that song! So whimsical—so many ways to interpret the thousand hills. On Earth, I picture the Great Smokey Mountains. Or for that last verse, the underside of storm clouds. In space, nebulas are filled with hills of gas and dust. They all speak of thousands, rolling ever on.”