Diverse Demands

by Sharon Rose

  “’Course, I know.” She quirked her lips. “My father is a cultural historian.”

  That quip got a grin from him.

  “Some followers did think that,” she said, “and to be fair, it is perfect for most of them now. But even back then, some had a different idea of what perfect meant. More the idea of completion or maturity. Which means some challenge must exist, or there would be no growth. No ability to choose.” She finished reviewing the results of his scan.

  How far should she go? “I don’t pretend to enjoy every challenge. Nor do I appreciate getting stuck with the chaos that others create.” She looked over at him. “I won’t say anything about your situation, Antony, for I’ll never know what you or your family truly experienced. But I do know what happened in mine.” She swallowed.

  “Once I rescued that PitKreelaundun baby—a good deed, by any measure—everything went downhill at breakneck speed for hours and hours, till I crashed at the bottom. By the time Pernanyen was finished with that link, there was no way I could make any decision at all. Or even hear the faintest whisper of my beloved’s voice—the one thing I put all of my reliance on.”

  She drew a breath. “But he never lets go. He had my back, even when I was beat. He told my dad what I needed and how to get it to me. If you can’t see God’s hand in that—or the fact that I went from nearly comatose to speaking, linking, and negotiating in a matter of hours—then, you are trying very hard not to see the miracle.”

  It took a moment for Antony to respond. “What happened is amazing, Kena. I don’t deny that. And I’m happy for you. I truly am. But it didn’t happen to me.”

  Kena drew a long breath. “I suspect that what we believe, way down deep inside, is a decision, too. If we blame God for the disasters that others create, then we determine he is bad. A lie, but if we believe it, we’ll reject him. That decision is the one and only thing that can stop God. His love never ends. His mercy always pursues. But he won’t force it on us.”

  A bleep chirped from the console, and a message flashed in yellow.

  Kena rolled her eyes. Way to wreck the moment, computer.

  It showed a predictive warning on the primary drive’s power feed. Ten percent chance of failure.

  “Antony, run diagnos—” He’d started the computer routine while she spoke. “Yeah, that.”

  As they waited for the results, Antony said, “Low chance of failure, and we’ll still have nav jets, even if we do lose primary.”

  She grunted. “I much prefer a craft in perfect condition.”

  “Don’t we all.”

  The results began appearing on screen, and the chance of failure edged up to 15 and then 18 percent.

  Kena clicked her tongue and opened her comm channel. “Tevd, are you available to take over mission command?”

  “Yes, ma’am. Is there a problem?”

  “Not yet, but we have a failure prediction on the primary drive.”

  “Understood. I’ve got this area.”

  She reported to the Ontrevay and sent diagnostics.

  A voice responded. “Data received. Stand by.”

  A moment later, Hrndl’s voice came over the channel. “Kena, we can get by with one less craft in the test area. Start your return trip now.”

  Chapter Twenty

  Antony hung up their EVA belts while Kena went to talk with Hrndl. If only he could get that conversation out of his head. Why did she have to bring up God?

  A faint voice spoke from within. You did that.

  What? Had he? Their words replayed in memory. There was that one time, but—she must have said something earlier. His stomach squirmed again with the thought of his awful realization. How his dad never wanted others to mention God. He would not become his dad! At least he’d kept cool while Kena shared her views. And now he couldn’t stop thinking about them! He found himself watching her across the room.

  “No need, Kena,” Hrndl said. “I’d rather see that report.”

  Kena left as Dhgnr’s low voice drifted over the comm system. “We’ll have it replaced before first shift tomorrow, but some of the routine maintenance will be delayed. You’re putting a lot of hours on these craft, and I don’t have enough staff to keep up with your schedule.”

  Antony drew nearer. “Do you have any other navigation assignments for me, ma’am?”

  “Nothing critical.”

  Dhgnr took the cue. “Then, send him down to me.”

  Antony returned to the rear of the bay, weaving between craft and maintenance carts. An apprentice on a mission almost collided with him. Probably just fetching something, but smart apprentices never dallied. He skirted the off-limits markers surrounding some craft, the speckled, red light warning crew to stay clear.

  He found Dhgnr near the craft that he and Kena had just returned. One of the technicians and an apprentice were separating the primary drive, red lights sliding over its surface as robotics drew it into the maintenance perimeter.

  “Where do you need me, sir?” Antony asked.

  Dhgnr gestured to a couple craft. “This first, then that one. Routine maintenance. Assist Nerfod.”

  The maintenance went well, but Nerfod’s communication style was maddening. He used Prednian words, with Chonander grammar. His native tongue contained few variations. There was no please, could, or should. Only must. Not new to Antony, but it still felt like automated machinery was stamping you must onto his brain.

  When they’d finished the first craft, Antony said, “I’m taking a break. I’ll be back in a few minutes.”

  “You must hurry.”

  Antony grimaced as he walked away. By the time he returned to start on the next craft, Nerfod had opened most of the upper hull clamps.

  “What are we doing on this one?” Antony asked.

  “We must inspect, clean, recharge air handling system.”

  “Do we need the hull open for that?”

  “Access is faster.” Nerfod opened another clamp. “Upper hull rails remove hull fast.”

  “I know. Easy to open, but hard to close. It was designed with zero gravity in mind.”

  “Even a navigator must know that bay robotics lift it.”

  Overkill, but Nerfod was in charge. Antony opened the clamp above the hatch.

  Nerfod headed forward, reaching up for the release handle.

  “Hold off for a minute,” Antony said. “I’ll go check that the area is clear.”

  “Checking is not necessary. Maintenance warning lights are on. You must not waste time.”

  This was beyond what Antony would tolerate. “Once it starts sliding to the floor, there is no stopping it. You must allow me to perform a safety check.”

  “T’putchen!” Nerfod flung his hands wide. “Humans are so nervous. Why do people say you are intrepid? You must go and return at once. You must not delay.”

  Antony stepped through the hatch, tempted to growl like a Grfdn. He began a quick circuit of the craft. Those Chonander and their complete disregard of—

  He stopped short, for a young Prednian was on her knees, peering under a tilted cart of oxygen tanks. Speckled red light danced over the tanks and across her back.

  “What are you doing in the maintenance area?” Antony demanded.

  Her eyes rounded as she twisted to look up at him. “I’m sorry, sir. The tanks are needed right away. I could have crossed it in seconds if this one hover unit hadn’t failed.”

  “There is never a good enough reason to enter restricted zones. Let’s drag this out of here. You push.” He bent as he spoke and grabbed the cart to pull.

  A sharp snap made him freeze. The hull jerked free and slid toward them, grinding down its rails. No!

  The apprentice screamed.

  Antony leapt to meet the falling hull, jamming his hands against the edge. He grunted at the shock of the weight, stopping it just as it hit the top of his head. “Get…back!” It took every shred of strength he possessed to straighten his arms and brace himself.

  Sprinting f
ootsteps pounded nearer as the frantic apprentice screamed for help. Was she out of the way? He couldn’t hold this. Pain tore through his shoulders and back. His bulging muscles trembled.

  “It’s gonna crush him,” she shrieked.

  More shouts mixed with the pulse drumming in his ears. Then, a voice that shouldn’t be here.

  “Shut her up,” Kena snapped.

  Hrndl’s voice demanded, “Quiet.”

  The scream ended like a hand had snuffed it.

  Kena darted into the gap between him and the craft, pressing her back against the lower hull.

  Kena locked her eyes on his. “You will stand. You are strong.” Her voice deepened with the English words, declaring, demanding, their truth.

  Sweat trickled down Antony’s face, and his arms quaked.

  Dhgnr called orders as he ran. Technicians sprinted to fulfill them. Dhgnr reached the craft and joined Antony, thrusting up against the hull. It did not budge. They were now both at risk.

  Kena held Antony’s gaze. “Strength flows through you. You are powerful. You will endure.”

  His face darkened. His lips pulled back from clenched teeth.

  “Breathe.” Was his chest moving? “Antony, breathe! So I can hear it.”

  Air hissed past his teeth, and his chest expanded.

  “You are strong in the power of his might,” she quoted. “You will stand.”

  Techs pushed equipment below the hull’s edge. Movement flickered in her peripheral vision, but she looked only at Antony. Encouragement streamed from her lips. “You are a mighty man who stands against all odds. Inhale. Oxygen fills your muscles with fresh strength. Power flows from you. The supports are nearly in place. You will stand until they are ready, for you are strong.”

  Energy fields hummed from the portable generators.

  “Steady, slow raise,” someone ordered.

  The hull rails scraped.

  Antony and Dhgnr seemed to grow upward as compression lifted. Their arms dropped to their sides. Dhgnr stepped back. Antony staggered. Kena rushed to him, but Dhgnr hooked his arms beneath Antony’s.

  “Step clear,” Dhgnr ordered, dragging Antony back and lowering him to the floor.

  Kena dropped to her knees beside him. “Breathe deep.”

  Metchell dashed across the bay from one of the lifts. “What happened?”

  Hrndl pointed. “He took the full weight of that hull as it came down and bore it alone for maybe a minute. Then, a few minutes more with aid.”

  Metchell moved his med scanner over Antony and checked the results on his computer. Someone hurried over with a rescue frame.

  “Extend it beside him,” Metchell said.

  Antony rolled to his side and sat up. “I’m not that far gone.”

  Metchell had pulled an oxygen mask from his med kit and tried to bring it to Antony’s face.

  Antony grabbed it from him. “I can manage!” He inhaled deeply from it, his glare daring anyone to thrust unwanted help upon him.

  Kena watched him a moment, then looked around the circle of concerned faces. “He’ll be all right. Thanks so much for all your help. We can manage now.”

  Dhgnr turned to one of his senior engineers. “Get the teams back on repairs.”

  As the others moved away, Metchell looked up at Dhgnr. “Why were you breathing heavy? Should I be checking you, too?”

  He shook his head. “I held half the weight for a while, but I didn’t stop its descent or bear the entire hull.”

  Metchell turned to the Prednian apprentice who still sat on the floor, trembling. “Are you hurt?”

  “No,” she squeaked. “But it was my fault!”

  Antony handed the oxygen mask to Metchell. “Don’t pull all the blame onto yourself. You were only in the way. You didn’t release the hull.” He glared at Nerfod, who stood just within view beside the craft. Antony shifted again and got to one knee, bracing his other foot to stand. His lips compressed.

  Kena’s stomach tightened.

  Dhgnr came to Antony’s side. “Do you need assistance to stand?”

  Sounding less than pleased, Antony said, “A braced arm for me to grab would be enough.”

  Dhgnr extended his elbow, clasping his hands tight against his torso.

  Kena cringed at the rigid look in Antony’s face as he grabbed Dhgnr’s arm and pulled himself to his feet. That cost him! At least Metchell was on it, scanning Antony’s back during the movement.

  Antony let out a breath and said to Dhgnr, “Thank you for…coming alongside me.” Then, he put his hands on Kena’s shoulders and drew her near. His voice softened. “And thank you for keeping me standing.” He placed a quick kiss on her forehead.

  Metchell said, “Hrndl, Antony is off duty.”

  Her voice vibrated. “How badly is he hurt?”

  “Nothing I can’t take care of, but there is to be no extra pressure on his spine until I say so. That includes the wild acceleration navigators consider ordinary. Let’s go to med section, Antony.”

  “One moment,” Antony said. “Nerfod, you are awfully quiet, and I’m still wondering how that hull came down. Did the mechanism fail, or did you turn the release handle?”

  “You didn’t follow instructions,” Nerfod grumbled. “I heard you chattering to someone. There wasn’t time for delay.”

  “Enough,” Dhgnr said. He strode into the craft, then stepped out. “The release handle has been turned. Antony, I will investigate the incident. You may tell me the details after Metchell treats your injuries.”

  Antony escaped from med section the next morning by agreeing to wear a back-brace. At least the energy field allowed limited movement, and a loose shirt covered it. He reached the dining hall between meals, and after a brief search, found Delatin in a food storage room.

  Delatin barely glanced at Antony. He peered into a bin, then tapped a stylus to the computer strapped on the back of his forearm, as he said, “What do you want?”

  “A special dinner for Kena. Something to remind her of home, though made from ingredients you will likely have.”

  Delatin’s eyes rounded, and he allowed the bin lid to fall.

  Much better. “I have a couple recipes,” Antony said, “I could send them to your computer.”

  “Yes, do.” Delatin read the recipes, his smile forming as his passion sparked. “I can do it. The fresh Earth fruit is ripe, but I will need to adjust the topping.”

  “Excellent.” Antony handed him the package he’d brought. “Here’s the one ingredient you lack for the topping.”

  Delatin looked inside. “Ah! Thank you. I will return any I don’t use.”

  Delatin bustled away, and Antony left, smiling. The chef treated unique food like a treasure. Antony sent a carefully worded invitation to Kena, then headed for the horticulture section.

  He returned to the dining hall before third meal. Delatin prepared a round table covered with a white cloth and two place settings of Human-style dishes. He aligned glasses above each knife.

  “This couldn’t be more perfect,” Antony said. “How do you know about tablecloths?”

  “I researched Human dining customs a few months ago for a small celebration. Bring Kena to this table, not the buffet.”

  Antony gave Kena time to change out of her nav suit, then escorted her to the dining hall, placing her hand on his arm.

  She tilted her head, and her elfin look appeared. “What’s this about?”

  “I just want dinner to be special.”

  She began the habitual turn as they passed through the door.

  “No, not that way. Our table is over here.”

  “Oh, Antony!” The sound of her voice lay somewhere between a chuckle and a purr. “Flowers, even.” She leaned over to admire the two yellow blooms propped in a glass. He seated her before taking his place, then poured ice water for her from the waiting pitcher.

  Delatin appeared at her side. “Would you like to begin with a salad, ma’am?”

  “Yes, please.”
/>   He set plates of fresh greens before her and Antony, then placed golden, toasted bread and a cruse of dressing between them and withdrew.

  “This is even better than I hoped,” Antony said. “I ordered the food, but I had no idea Delatin knew what dinner courses are.”

  “He’s amazing, isn’t he? He even plays the part when he serves. I could swear he found a video of a formal English dinner from way back.” She poured dressing over the salad. “I knew something was up by the way you phrased that invitation, but I didn’t expect this. Are we celebrating something?”

  Antony took the dressing cruse she held out to him. “I’d celebrate you any day, but we’ll call this a thank you dinner.”

  “For what?”

  “Yesterday. I was right at the edge of collapse. I never would’ve lasted if you hadn’t shown up and talked me through.”

  Her gorgeous eyes stared into his. Such an unusual light hue between green and blue, with that enchanting tilt.

  Her fork paused on its way to her mouth. “I…I wasn’t sure. I just did what little I could.”

  He reached across the table to touch her fingers resting on the cloth. “Sometimes a little is a lot.”

  Her gaze fell to their fingers, and her cheeks lost a bit of color.

  He leaned back. “So, even though dinner is a little thing, it carries a lot of thanks.”

  Her smile returned. “It’s very sweet of you.” She got the fork the rest of the way to her mouth and chewed. “You’re a little stiff, Antony.”

  “Yeah. Metchell wants me in a brace for another day.”

  “I was hoping he’d have some accelerated healing technique for you.”

  “He did. Nothing broke. Just strain and pressure, which would have caused swelling if he hadn’t intervened. I guess a couple discs in my spine took a hit. He says he preempted serious damage, but he wants them protected a little longer.”

  “Does it hurt?”

  “No. Just annoying.”

  “Been there.”

  A Prednian, stool in hand, approached from beyond Kena’s shoulder. Antony shook his head, to no avail.

  The Prednian dropped the stool at their table and sat. “Please tell me, what is the cultural significance of this?”