by Sharon Rose
“I’m equally pleased that your crew supports you,” Antony said, “but I would be far happier if our crew supported us.”
“In-deed!” Kena turned back to Ghent. “Have we convinced you that all is well between us?”
“Yes. I’m glad to know that my first assessment was correct.” He nodded.
Kena turned to Antony. “Do you know about the Plynteth quick nod?”
“I do. Subject closed.”
When Kena stood, Antony followed suit. How graceful she was. Now, if he could just make this seem natural. As she moved for the door, Antony said, “Sir, could I have a few more minutes of your time?”
“Certainly.”
Antony turned to Kena, who had paused. “Then, I’ll say good night to you now.” He lowered his voice and touched her fingertips. “And thank you.”
She smiled. “Good night.”
He waited for the door to close behind her, then rested a hand on the chair back. “This will likely be brief. There were some things I wanted to ask when you spoke of your experiences on the Epri7, but not with Kena or the others there.”
“I appreciate your discretion.”
“You mentioned that the PitKreelaundun have an acclimation method that can be immediately followed by a telepathic link.”
Ghent nodded, his expression neutral.
“Do you know if they used that method with Kena?”
Ghent took his time answering. “I am trying to honor Kena’s right to privacy, as defined by Humans. Excessive, in my opinion, but I will abide by it.”
“I’ll say one thing for this crew,” Antony said, shaking his head. “You’re serious about following the Collaborative’s work profile with Humans.”
“You don’t sound happy about it.”
“I am, but in this case, it’s frustrating. I know only that Kena suffered an unspecified injury. Which means I know nothing. I tried getting info from Metchell when he did my physical. He seems to care about her a great deal, but all I discovered was that Kena and I have the same blood type, and he thinks she should exercise more!”
Ghent leaned back and laughed. “I can imagine him answering while evading. What is blood type?”
“Humans are one of the few races that have blood variations. Metchell commented on our matched types when he drew a unit of my blood to store for emergencies.” Antony gripped the chair with both hands. “I’ll just try one more question, which I believe is general enough. Whatever injured her, do you know whether she began it willingly or under compulsion?”
The corners of Ghent’s mouth tilted down. He met Antony’s gaze. “Under compulsion.”
Antony’s jaw shifted forward. “Is that why Pernanyen was on trial?”
Ghent nodded.
“What was the verdict?”
“Nothing—yet. Kena would not allow them to reach a final conclusion.”
Antony tilted his head, frowning. Strange. If only he knew what questions to ask.
Ghent leaned forward, folding his arms on the table. “Are you planning to talk with her about her experience?”
Antony nodded.
“Speak with care. The issues are complex, and the way Kena dealt with the PitKreelaundun was…surprising. At least, from my point of view. I hope to hear your view someday.”
Chapter Thirteen
Antony checked the time as he strode toward his quarters. Not that late. Days could pass before he’d have a chance to talk to Kena again.
He strode to her quarters and touched the comm unit. “Kena, this is Antony.”
The door opened, and he was again transported to a planet—Earth, this time.
She sat on an informal sofa, its cushions faded as if it had been in the sun a few years. The same for a hanging hammock chair. The image on her sitting room walls explained that look. A veranda railing in the foreground, a lake in the distance. Leaves trembled in a breeze, and dappled sunlight flickered across the lawn.
“Ah, nice,” Antony murmured. “Any place in particular?”
“Home.”
“I wondered if that was it.” He searched for details in the scene.
“Did you get what you wanted from Ghent?”
“Hm. Yes and no. Life is rarely simple.” Antony turned to her. “I’d rather talk to you, anyway.”
“I was kind of hoping you would.”
Ah, encouraging.
“I was thinking,” she said. “Maybe we should spend some time together in public view. Let people see us just talking and calm. If you know what I mean.”
Less encouraging. Oh, well. “Should we go back to the event Opyera arranged?”
Kena got up. “Neh. I’ve had enough of crowds for the day. How about walking one of the outer ring halls? We’ll pass a few people, now and then, but we can keep moving and have our own conversation.”
Better than nothing. “Sounds good. Which deck?”
“Let’s stay on C. That’s the one the navigators prefer here.” Kena had almost reached the door when a low trill thrummed from her computer and brought her to an abrupt halt. Her brow lowered. It took her a second to reach for the computer on her belt.
“What’s that tone for?” Antony asked.
“PitKreelaundun communication.” Kena read the message with her lower lip held between her teeth, then her frown released. “It’s okay. I can answer it later.” She returned the computer to her belt and headed out the door with Antony.
He kept pace with her brisk stride. “Who contacts you from the PitKreelaundun?”
“Oh, that one was Pernanyen. Sometimes, Travannesal or TarKeen.”
“Wh…” Words failed him.
She glanced up at him as they turned toward the outer ring. “Surprised?”
“Uh…Yeah! Why does Pernanyen send you messages?”
“Because I want her to. I need to maintain some…stability…dialogue.”
“This is the woman who was on trial for forcing something on you—I’m not sure what—and injuring you?” He waited for her nod. “Why would you want dialogue with her?”
Silence stretched. “It’s complicated.”
“Yeah, and I know a few scattered pieces.”
Kena sighed. “I do acknowledge that’s a problem.” She heaved another sigh. “Not many know the full extent of what happened. Ghent, of course, and the officers. I suppose, a few people in communications have seen all the recordings. If it makes you feel any better, you’re no more in the dark than your peers.”
“No, that does not make me feel any better. How long do you hope to hide it?”
“Not long at all. Ghent intends to release the recordings onboard the Ontrevay soon. So then, everyone will know that part.” Breath hissed between her tight lips. “He’s only waited this long out of concern for me. He wanted me to have time to…finish my report first, but…I can’t seem to get it written. Not in a way that will make sense to both sairital beings and Humans. I’ve even tried it as two separate reports, but…that doesn’t work either.”
Not good. He spoke softly. “You’re carrying something way too heavy, all by yourself.”
“Yeah.” Her voice grew so hushed, it was barely audible. “I guess.”
They turned to walk along the outer ring hallway, which followed the ship’s hull. The visible stretch was empty, but was anyone beyond the curves? Antony searched for emfrel and found none. They were alone, for now, at least.
He touched her back. “Why, Kena?”
“I don’t really have any choice right now. It’s not like sairital beings understand. And few Humans grasp what telepathy really is.”
Was she worried about his view? “I don’t claim to be an expert on telepathy, but I understand the basics. I’m not the rigid sort who gets all shocked over it. I know it’s intentional, just like talking is.”
Her silence grew disturbing.
After a long wait, he tried again. “I was hoping to set you at ease with that. Did I make it worse instead?”
“Not your fault. You co
uldn’t know.”
His concern grew each time she spoke. “In spite of my ignorance, I’m willing to listen. You’re isolated, and you must know that’s not good for you. Frankly, I can’t understand how you get along without any Human connection.”
“God and I—we are like this.” She hooked her fingers together. “He sustains me, for our friendship runs as deep as with any Human. But you and I don’t think alike on that, and I don’t want to debate it.”
“No, of course not. For your sake, I’m glad you feel that, uh, closeness. I would never try to undermine it, but I still think Human contact is necessary. Don’t you wish for it?”
“Oh, I do, Antony, but not for something you don’t want to give me.”
“Don’t want to…What does that mean?”
Her pace was slowing. She looked up at him. “I was hoping for a friend. Very much so. But I can’t handle a romantic or physical relationship right now.”
“Oh, Kena!” Never had his mistake seemed so inappropriate. She had welcomed him, practically begging for friendship, and he’d…turned off his brain! He stopped her with a touch and faced her. “What an idiot I was. I’m so sorry! Is there any way you can forget that first meeting?”
“Antony, I’m not beating you with it. You apologized, and I forgave you. It’s just that we’re not on the same wavelength, and I—” Her voice broke.
“Ah, no, Kena.” He rested his hands on her shoulders without thought. “We are much closer than you think. There is not an ounce of romance in this. Come here.” With just his fingertips, he urged her nearer.
She met his eyes, holding back for only a second, then let him enfold her in a hug— gentle, yet firm.
He kept quiet, only holding her while minutes slid by. Her tense muscles gradually loosened. The instant she moved, he let her pull away.
“Thank you,” she murmured.
He kept his hands on her shoulders. “Anytime. And I do mean any time. Understood?”
Her mouth wavered as she exhaled. “Sure.”
Antony searched for emfrel again. No one approached from beyond the curve of the outer ring or the nearest adjoining hallway. Opyera’s ill-fated event must still be holding people. “I have a suggestion. Completely up to you, though.”
“What?”
“Stop thinking about what to say, and just spit it out. What did Pernanyen do to you?”
Pain swept over her face, pulling her elfin eyes down and thrusting her lower lip forward. Her expressions shifted, as if a battle raged within, then finally settled. “Well…at least I didn’t turn into a puddle.”
“Don’t give up your gains. Just say it.”
She spoke through gritted teeth. “Oh, I hate what this does to me!” She shook her head like she was flinging something away, then rushed her words. “They call it a constrained link. Not intentional, at all. At least, not for me.” She slowed her audible breath. “Pernanyen searched my memory. Inspected anything she pleased.” Her pitch rose as she spoke. “My conversations. My opinions. My emotions. My friendships.”
She fixed her gaze on his chest, and her rigid body trembled. He couldn’t even feel the movement of breathing, and she wouldn’t respond as he urged her back toward his embrace.
“An invasion so deep,” she said, “I can only liken it to the rapes that used to be common on Earth. Not physical, but a violation of my mind.”
A moan escaped his throat. Should he even be touching her, if she felt this way? Then, she flung herself against his chest, and he held her.
Just as well that she needed silence, for he could form no adequate words. Antony thought she’d cry, but no. Was she suppressing that, too? Her chest heaved and shuddered within his arms, taking a long time to steady, while half-understood puzzle pieces refused to assemble in his mind.
She communicated with this creature? Even claimed that she wanted that? She had negotiated a truce? Wouldn’t let the PitKreelaundun render a verdict? Stranger still, everyone knew that a sairital being absolutely could not survive a link with a Human unless the Human controlled the link. How could this even have occurred? And what sort of injury could it cause?
Kena straightened. She darted a look up into his eyes. “Well…I didn’t totally melt down. I guess you were right.”
“Kena, I’m so sorry. I can’t begin to imagine…” He felt so helpless.
“I know.” She seemed to search his face. At least her gaze was open. “You look like the epitome of mournful confusion,” she said.
Woah. She could see all that? “What sort of beings are the PitKreelaundun?” he asked. “Are they even sairital?”
“Yes, they are, but also different. Every race is, you know. They’re so intrinsically telepathic that they can’t survive without linking at least every few days.”
“How did Pernanyen survive a link with a spirit being?”
“When Humans say that we must control the link, we mean that we control where telepathic communication occurs. That is, we keep it within our minds, but don’t allow the sairital being to contact our spirits. That’s really what we’re taught when we learn how to link telepathically. How to differentiate mind and spirit.”
She drew another deep breath, like this was hard work. “So, I kept drawing my spirit back from the portions of my mind that Pernanyen was probing. And I was so worn out from that rapid acclimation they do. I have no words for that level of exhaustion. Perhaps, in a way, I didn’t fully realize how far I was separating mind and spirit. When she withdrew…I don’t know how to describe this. It’s almost like they didn’t reconnect properly. I just lay there for days, inert. Not even sleeping. I thought, the whole time, that I was minutes from death.” She kept her gaze fixed on a distant point. “But it never came.”
“You sound disappointed.”
“I was. Very.” She looked back up at him. “Not anymore. I’m not suicidal, if that’s what you’re thinking.”
“That’s one relief,” he said. “How can you stand to talk to this woman? And why keep the PitKreelaundun from issuing a verdict?”
“Because I saw why she did it. This is the part I think Humans won’t understand. Pernanyen desperately wants to resolve the hatred between the Collaborative and her people. She truly believed that, if she could gain proof that we never knew what tra-pentazine was—that we really never intended the harm we have caused them—then our races can achieve peace.”
“So, they think the end justifies the means? Even invading another’s mind?”
“Not entirely. A constrained link is only legal if it is reciprocated. And in that reciprocation…” Kena swallowed hard. “I have the right to destroy her memories of the first link. Whatever memories I choose. All of them, if I want to.”
He frowned, and her gaze slid down from his face.
“By their law,” she said, “reciprocation—completion, they call it—must happen within a matter of days. They started the trial before they realized I would recover. If I hadn’t, Pernanyen would have been executed, and the memories she took from me would have died with her. But then, I walked in on her trial, and that changed everything. Well, sort of.”
“What do you mean?”
“I could refuse to constrain her. They would execute her. My stolen memories would be forever beyond their knowledge, and Pernanyen would get what she deserves. Simple, huh?”
“Yes. But not?” he asked.
“No. She was trying to bring peace and save lives. She’s young and idealistic. She chose unwisely, but not from malice. She is quite skillful and thought she could protect me. She had no idea what she was getting into.”
“Are you telling me…you forgive her?”
She searched his face, so he did his best to hide his opinion.
“I do,” she said.
He took a deep breath. “Wow.”
“But the PitKreelaundun won’t bend their law.”
He opened his mouth, closed it, and tried again. “What, then?”
“The only way I can save h
er life is…” Her breath quivered again. “To constrain her to link.”
No wonder she found it hard to write of this. Or even speak of it. How could she consider such an act?
“I was so…so exhausted,” she said. “I couldn’t deal with the decision or how to implement it. I just knew I couldn’t let her be killed. She’s like a little, heartbroken child. So, I convinced Travannesal to give me time. Months, in fact, so I can go to Earth for counsel. But I don’t know if that will help. I’ll still need to explore her mind, see my own memories there, and perceive how she judges them. Remember each agonizing moment when she extracted them.”
A shudder ran through her. “Oh, no!” she whimpered.
Sobs shook her as he pulled her close. He recognized flaws in her reasoning, but they were immaterial now. Her wound was too raw. He could do nothing except hold her head against his shoulder and breathe soothing whispers into the hair that brushed his lips.
She cried until she sagged against his arm. “Oh,” she moaned, wiping tears from her reddened cheeks. “This must be way more than you bargained for. I’m sorry.”
“Don’t you dare apologize.”
That prompted a watery laugh. “I must look awful. We gotta get out of here before someone—”
Her eyes widened in the same instant that emfrel touched his awareness. Someone was coming.
“No!” she whispered. “They can’t see me like this.”
Or hear her. Not the way she was squeaking. “Veet and Tenelli,” he murmured. “Do you feel anything else?”
“No.”
The newcomers approached down the long curve to Antony’s left. He backed against the wall, drawing her with him. “You just rest here. Keep your face against my shoulder, like so, and let me do the talking.”
“Oh, no! There’s more coming.” Kena shook her hair forward, hiding her flaming cheeks.
He searched. Veet, Tenelli, and Dantokrellie, coming along the curve to the right. Kena drew a shuddering breath.