by Sharon Rose
“You have not been invited to join us,” Antony said, dropping his pitch.
“Oh! Pardon me. I should have asked. Kena, may I join you at meal?”
Antony wasn’t about to let Kena answer. “That is phrased for the Grfdn. We are Human!”
“How should I phrase it for you?”
“It doesn’t matter how you phrase it,” Antony said. “The answer is no.”
The Prednian assumed a shocked posture. “You should let her answer. It is her table.”
“Technically,” Kena said, “it’s his table, and I am his invited guest. Unlike you.”
Delatin arrived and set down two covered dishes. He picked up their empty salad plates and handed them to the other Prednian. “You may take these to the kitchen.”
“But I—”
“Allow me to help you.” Delatin hooked a hand under his arm, urging him to stand, then picked up the stool and strode away with him.
“What an interesting interlude,” Antony said.
The corners of Kena’s mouth fluttered. “I suppose it would be rude to stare over my shoulder. What’s happening?”
“Opyera just relieved Delatin of the excess waiter. He seems to be expressing an opinion and re-seating him at a common table.” Antony lifted lids from the dishes and inhaled. “Ah, yes, I believe Delatin succeeded. May I serve you some pasta?”
“Please!” She lifted her plate. “I haven’t had it in ages. I wonder how close it will be.”
He spooned a pile of noodles onto her plate. “We have a decent chance. The recipe I gave him is from an Italian chef who utilizes food plants of alien races to reproduce Human-style dishes.”
Kena ladled sauce over her pasta as he filled his own plate. “Ah, that explains the Italian menu.”
“Not at all. She duplicates the cuisines of many of our cultures. The menu proves that I am a little Italian.”
Kena smiled, too busy eating to answer. Mm drifted from her closed lips.
Antony savored his own bite, as Delatin returned with a carafe and two glasses. “Forgive me the slight delay in serving your beverage.”
“Easily,” Antony said, “for you just served us so very well.”
A slight smile curved Delatin’s lips as he filled their glasses. “This is nothing like wine—a beverage I cannot comprehend—but I believe the flavor will pair well with…marinara. Did I say that correctly?”
“You did,” Kena said. “And it’s delicious!”
“It is,” Antony said. “The crew of the Ontrevay is lucky to have you as chef.”
“Your appreciation delights me,” Delatin said.
Antony watched him go. “You know, I think Prednian acceptance of a compliment beats every race.”
“They definitely win that point,” Kena said.
Conversation waned as they ate. Delf and Tevd stopped by their table as their plates emptied.
“We’ll refrain,” Tevd said, “from bringing stools and joining you, but can we ask of your recovery, Antony?”
“Going well. By the way, how was the rest of the mission yesterday?”
“Boring. You should have stayed with us.”
Delf’s eyes moved over their table. “I still don’t get to see what you light on fire.”
Kena giggled.
Antony raised his brows. “What?”
“He means candles,” Kena said.
Antony’s deep chuckle drew several gazes their way.
Tevd asked, “What are…” as Delf drew him away.
Kena directed a considering look at the covered dishes.
“You may wish to save room,” Antony said.
“Is there dessert, too?”
He nodded. When she tilted her head like that and turned those gorgeous eyes on him— Oh, he was hers! But he couldn’t tell her without risking that paling of her cheeks.
“What is it?” she asked.
“A surprise.”
It was all he hoped. When Delatin set the dish at her place, her lips parted. Red and ivory slices peeked from a soft chocolaty mound.
“Strawberries,” she murmured, “but are these…” She scooped up a pale slice and popped it into her mouth. “It’s a banana! A real banana.”
Antony just laughed.
“Where did this come from?” She took another bite, this one with a slice of each fruit, and savored them together, her eyes closing.
“We brought a horticulture module with us.”
“Yes, but you never told me it had bananas.”
“A little tree, which has had its growth accelerated. I was waiting for them to ripen. How long has it been since you were on Earth, Kena?”
Hrndl and Dhgnr walked up to their table at that moment.
“You look content, Antony,” Dhgnr said, “but you don’t move naturally. What does Metchell say of your recovery?”
“He insists I wear a brace for another day but says there will be no lasting damage.”
“Good.” Hrndl glanced at their table. “Delatin had another chance at Human dining, I see. Was he successful?”
“Indeed,” Kena said. “And you will have to try bananas soon. A Terran fruit that goes well with strawberries.”
“Then, I’ll probably like them. We are about to go walking. Would the two of you like to join us?”
Antony looked at Kena. “Your choice.”
“That sounds pleasant.”
They moved through hallways, saying little as they shifted position to allow those they met to pass.
“Have you spoken with Ghent about the incident yet, Antony?” Dhgnr asked.
“Briefly. Sort of.”
Dhgnr’s forehead shifted. They reached the outer ring and turned, Dhgnr staying at his right side. “I think I need a translation.”
Antony touched Kena’s fingers, just enough to keep her at his other side, before he answered. “Ghent stopped by the med section late yesterday. I think he said something about investigating it, but Metchell had given me a muscle relaxer, which made it pretty hard to hold my eyelids up.”
“There will be a full investigation.”
Kena leaned forward to angle a look up at Dhgnr.
“Is that necessary?” Antony asked. “It all seems obvious.”
“Yes, it does. However, Nerfod doesn’t want the blame.”
“Really?” Antony’s throat tightened. “He pulled the release without waiting for a safety inspection, and he wants to blame someone else? Who? The apprentice, perhaps?” He toned his voice down. “What’s her name, by the way?”
“Mavinun.” Dhgnr said. “Both her and you.”
“Me?” Antony touched his chest.
“On the grounds that neither of you should have been there. That’s why we need your statement formalized.”
Unbelievable! “What is Ghent’s opinion?” Antony asked.
“He has not voiced it, though he speaks with heavy cadence. Metchell makes no attempt to hide his view.”
Antony raised his eyebrows. “Which means…?”
“You may not have seen it yet,” Hrndl said, “but there is one way to rouse Metchell’s anger. Cause an avoidable injury to another person.” Hrndl hung back, allowing someone to pass, then returned to Kena’s side.
Antony glanced sideways at Dhgnr. “What is your opinion?”
Dhgnr’s nostrils lifted, and his voice rumbled. “Nerfod’s haste caused delay and endangered three people. Beyond doubt, that hull weighs more than a Grfdn can support alone and must exceed your capacity as well. Kena’s response also showed your situation was dire.” Dhgnr subdued his rumble. “As usually happens when I’m with Humans, I am puzzled by so much.”
“And I,” Hrndl said. “The more I learn of Humans, the less I seem to know. What were you saying to him, Kena, when you spoke your native language?”
“Mostly telling him how strong he is and that he would succeed.”
Their footsteps filled the silence as Hrndl stared ahead. “Antony said you kept him standing, but I don’t pe
rceive how that aided him.”
Kena took a moment to answer. “It’s hard to explain. Words change things. Even if they only changed what he believed in that moment, that would still alter his actions.”
“I don’t understand.”
Kena looked to Antony. “How long did you think you could last when Mavinun screamed it would crush you?”
“Less than a second.”
“How long when I said you were strong and would stand?”
“Maybe another five seconds.” He smiled down at her. “A few more when you insisted I breathe. When you told me supports were coming, I determined to last that long.” He touched her fingers again. “You demanded strength. That’s what did it.”
Their steps echoed in the hallway. “I still doubt I understand,” Hrndl said.
“Even Humans struggle to understand this,” Antony said. “The weight of that hull was beyond me. This is not the first time that a Human has lifted an impossible weight to save a life. Some say it’s adrenaline that gives a momentary boost, but that cannot fully explain it. Others say that when we believe we can succeed, it enables us to use strength we wouldn’t otherwise exert.”
Hrndl looked between the two of them. “If I had said those things, would it have been the same?”
Would it have? Antony frowned. In a way, it seemed like the answer should be yes, but that word stuck. “It would have helped me,” he said, “but I’m not sure it would have been the same.”
Both Grfdn stared straight ahead as they walked, until Hrndl blurted out, “Then, it must be something to do with spirit.”
Antony almost stumbled, so shockingly apt her statement was. His back brace tightened at the unnatural movement, then eased off again.
“I know you don’t link,” Hrndl said, “and yet it seems like you connect in some way. Are words—what you say and what you hear—entwined in spirit, somehow?”
“Hrndl!” Kena nearly stopped. “My dear, that is profound.”
“It is?” she rumbled.
Dhgnr, a step ahead, turned to them. “Antony, you look stunned.”
The breath of a laugh escaped his parted lips as they resumed a natural pace “It’s not common to hear a sairital being recognize the existence of Human spirit. Much less, the relationship between spirit and words.”
Hrndl exhaled, a mournful sound. “The problem is, I still don’t really understand. How did you know what to say to him, Kena?”
“It just flowed.”
Hrndl’s thin lips compressed at that, and she gave her head a tiny shake. “Why was your voice so—so different when you spoke to him?”
“Different how?” Kena asked.
“Low…firm…” Hrndl turned her hands palm up. “I don’t know how to describe that, either.”
Kena’s voice echoed in Antony’s memory. “Powerful,” he said. “Authoritative.”
“Yes.” Hrndl drew the word out as though giving it careful consideration. “Yes, I suppose.”
There was no supposing to him. Antony knew that power. He knew whose spirit had spoken through Kena. He gritted his teeth. Why did she have to bring this stuff up?
She didn’t bring anything up. If you want to walk with my daughter, you will find me at her side.
Antony’s chest heaved, and that annoying brace responded again. Kena was welcome to her views, but he didn’t talk to God. He didn’t listen for his voice. Period. Subject change. He looked at Dhgnr. “What you did was every bit as important. I wouldn’t have lasted if you hadn’t stepped in.”
“That reminds me of something else you said. You thanked me for ‘coming alongside.’ Afterward, I wondered if it meant more than just my position and lifting.”
“It’s more about engaging with me. Coming into the same danger I was in and bearing half the load.”
Dhgnr’s forehead creased. “Is it a word for coordination?”
“N…uh…” He must mean that structured concept of teamwork the Grfdn were so enamored with. Antony looked to Kena for help.
Her eyes narrowed. “I think so. It has a connotation of joining forces. Walk at my side is another version, often referring to mates or life-long friends.”
Now, she was practically quoting private words within him. Antony wanted to yell at God, but that would be too much like talking to him. He couldn’t escape the impression that God was looking at him, lips closed, but with an expression that said, “You have a problem with all this silence, don’t you? What are you going to do about it?”
Chapter Twenty-One
“Have you noticed, TarKeen,” VanDar asked, stepping back from the dining table in his quarters, “that nothing has changed?”
So ended their comfortable meal. Couldn’t he have waited for his guests to finish eating before starting a debate? TarKeen glanced around the table. MorDen paid no attention, but JedKoom ate faster. ShenLee exchanged a glance with LeckLa and took another bite.
TarKeen set his utensil across the top of his bowl. “Stability is my temporary goal. And yes, I always know whether my goals are being attained.”
“You seem unaware that your temporary goal prevents realization of our ultimate purpose.”
“I disagree,” TarKeen said. “It’s a strategic delay, which enhances the probability of long-term success.”
“That would be more believable if there was any sign—any sign at all—that progress was actually occurring.”
“There is, VanDar. Do not despise subtle changes.”
“Perhaps you refer to the conversation you and ShenLee had with Travannesal.” VanDar leaned nearer. “Consider what has come of it. Nothing.”
TarKeen held his voice calm to diffuse the budding rant. “Change becomes visible as events unfold. Travannesal may already be willing to align his vote with the PitKree when we find another habitable planet.”
MorDen took another piece of bread, silent as usual, though his gaze shifted between their faces.
“That is not enough.” JedKoom stabbed a morsel with the prongs of his utensil. “We must know in advance, or another planet will slip beyond our grasp.”
“Forcing the issue,” TarKeen said, “when there is no opportunity for a decision, will only create resistance in the future.”
“You speak of opportunities and the future,” VanDar said, “as though they are certain to bring us what we seek. In fact, they are random. The future must be shaped, and the opportunities created.”
ShenLee pushed her bowl away. “Search techniques are improving rapidly,” she said. “We can now identify atmosphere content with far greater detail and accuracy. This alone will bring us more opportunities.”
“Search techniques!” JedKoom jerked his head to the left, as though her words were nonsense. “Verification has stalled. Only one planet has been checked in the past year. While we discover more opportunities, we pursue fewer.”
LeckLa sipped her water, then said, “If the Collaborative quits disrupting tra-pentazine, we’ll be able to assign many more ships to search.”
“If.” VanDar paced. “An if that will not happen. Another vain wait that keeps us from action.”
“We only need to wait months, not years,” TarKeen said. “Learn patience, VanDar. It would alleviate all these agonies you suffer over the passage of time.”
VanDar drew near him. “I have far less patience than you. I’ll not deny it. Nor apologize. Pernanyen has committed a constrained link that has not been completed. Her execution is overdue and should be performed at once.”
“Do you not realize,” TarKeen asked, “that will slow us down even more?”
“On the contrary. When Pernanyen dies, Travannesal will leave the Epri7, and we may act.”
How could an intelligent man be so obtuse? “In solving the least significant problem,” TarKeen said, “you ignore our greatest opportunity. When Kena completes the link with Pernanyen, we’ll have our best chance ever of keeping Collaborative ships away from the tra-pentazine that threatens us.” He read no acknowledgemen
t in VanDar’s face. Not surprising, but TarKeen continued for the others. “Our triad ensured that Pernanyen would be alive and well when Kena returns. If we fail, relations with the Collaborative will worsen, and our ships will be cleaning up after them indefinitely. Exploration will stop while we police our borders.”
VanDar nodded slowly. “You are a member of the triad, after all. Impossible for you to argue for her execution now. You’d lose authority, maybe even be confined to quarters. No, that is not where we need you.”
Typical. VanDar had missed the point. Was it worth trying to enlighten him?
MorDen finally spoke. “It still comes down to the same need. We must have ships under PitKree command. That is the only way to claim whatever we find.”
“They will never give us ships,” JedKoom said.
ShenLee sidestepped away from the table. “There is another way. We could build them. The PitKree focus on space-faring careers far more than the Laundun.”
“Build them?” JedKoom scoffed. “Where? In the PitKreelaundun orbital platforms?”
LeckLa finished her water and set the glass aside. “It could be done if, and only if, we maintain good relations.”
“She’s right,” ShenLee said. “Don’t underestimate the importance of our relationship. A habitable planet is only the beginning. It will be wild, with unknown hazards and no infrastructure. How foolish we would be to create a schism between our two races. Far better to colonize with their cooperation.”
JedKoom opened his mouth, but VanDar spoke first. “Our races are already divided.”
The calm of VanDar’s voice, so far removed from his character, sparked a surge of current down TarKeen’s neck.
VanDar turned to ShenLee. “You are wise to consider such matters, for we must address them to survive. But the gap between the PitKree and Laundun will widen as we insist on leaving. We must stand ready to resist their initial shock.” He lowered his voice. “And their reaction.”
“You have a point, I suppose.” LeckLa picked up her empty glass and set it down again. “I just…” Her hands never rested.
“We hear your concerns,” VanDar said, refilling her glass. “Neither TarKeen nor I disregard your voices. We need you.” He encompassed ShenLee in his gaze. “When the Laundun recover from the shock, you will be instrumental in restoring cooperation. But please face reality—it will be a long and difficult task.”