by Sharon Rose
“Yes, thank you. We’ll let Kena decide what she’s ready for.” He touched the comm unit by her door. “Kena, may Hrndl and I come in?”
The door opened. Kena lounged in her hammock chair, her computer balanced on one thigh. Swiping a finger across it, she brought the music volume down to a whisper.
“How are you doing?” Antony asked.
“I’m fine.” Her smile held enough affectionate amusement to convince him. “You two aren’t worrying about me, are you?”
Hrndl’s eyes tilted, which Kena seemed to take as an answer.
“Not really,” Antony said, “but I don’t have the foggiest idea how any of this works. Did you learn what you needed?”
“I did. It’s not so different from telepathically learning a recorded language.”
Huh? He angled his head. “Something else I haven’t done.”
“I suppose.” She half-closed her eyes, making her look like a thoughtful elf.
The urge to kiss her…no, focus.
“A computer,” Kena said, “generates imitation telepathic energy, based on a language file. Telepaths can link to it and absorb the words and structure. Then, they use the language to anchor the knowledge.”
Antony stared at her. “O-kay. And that is similar to finding and removing memories…how?”
She grinned at him. “We used a computer-generated, imitation sairit. Metchell and I linked so I could observe him while he identified a memory in the fake sairit and removed it. Then, he had me do it several times.”
“Is that close enough to reality to learn how to do it with a person?”
“Well…” She rolled her eyes. “I had a hard time believing it, but Metchell covered that, too. Before we started, he asked me to show him a memory from a long time ago. He made a point of drawing conclusions about it. After I practiced on the fake sairit, he insisted I find my memory among his and remove it, while leaving his conclusions intact.”
Antony couldn’t help but grimace.
“Yeah,” Kena said, “it was really hard to trust myself, but he insisted.” She shrugged and spread her hands. “So, I did. In some ways, it was easier than I expected. My memory was so distinct from his, I had no doubt what I should be removing.”
“Now, I’m really curious,” Antony said. “What was this memory you showed him?”
Her hand waved off to the side. “There were these ducklings, and a careless driver killed their mother. I was really upset when it happened, but I loved raising the ducklings. All Metchell knows now is that I responded to a disturbing event in a nurturing way. He interpreted all this as an immature version of me, consistent with my rescue of Pearl.”
Antony put an arm around her shoulders and gave her a squeeze. “You’re amazing!”
“Not really.” Kena turned a quizzical look to Hrndl. “Does it seem to you like we’re making much of something trivial?”
Hrndl shook her head. “No, Kena. If I seem too silent, it’s because I find your conversation enlightening. The common Human perspective, contrasted against the divergent view of telepath versus non-telepath.”
“Ah,” Kena murmured. “Metchell acts like the procedure is the most ordinary thing imaginable. Is it not normal for Grfdn to remove memories?”
“Our doctors can do it,” Hrndl said, “but I’ve never had reason to learn.” The corners of her eyes lifted. “Ironic. You can perform a sairital procedure that I cannot.”
Kena chuckled.
“Metchell told me something,” Hrndl said, “from a conversation he had with you and Ghent earlier today. When you spoke of your memories within Pernanyen, he thought you seemed calmer than you have in the past.”
Kena nodded. “Yes, I’ve found a way to, uh…manage those rather chaotic emotions.”
“Enough that you can face linking with Pernanyen?”
“Yes.”
Hrndl’s eyes tilted up. “Oh, my dear! It is such a relief to hear your confidence again.”
“You think you’re relieved…” Kena’s shoulders shook.
Warmth spread through Antony’s chest. This was better than he’d hoped for.
“I’ll try one step further,” Hrndl said. “A while ago, Frdn told me he wanted to ask you for the PitKreelaundun language. It was too soon, but he asked me to determine when you were ready for the request. Of course, you may decline.”
“Does Frdn know how to structure a language for telepathic learning?”
Hrndl nodded. “The technique was included in his apprenticeship.”
“Have you ever linked with him,” Antony asked.
“No,” Kena said, “but we have a little history. He’s trustworthy. Hrndl, may we join your table this evening?”
“You’re always welcome.” Hrndl straightened into her chief navigator posture. “Ghent and I have an initial plan for our return after gathering benzlium. We’ll stop to check the samples and give you time for live communication with Andrew Talgarth. Then, we’ll go back into slip and return to the Epri7. I’m keeping your nav duties light, Kena. I assume you understand where we want your attention focused.”
Kena widened her eyes. “No. Where?”
Antony chuckled as Hrndl shook her head and left. The instant the door slid shut, he wrapped an arm around Kena’s shoulders again. “I missed you.”
“Oh? What was that, three hours?”
“Yeah,” he groaned. “A long time, wasn’t it?”
Ghent ate third meal with Remlishos but kept the Grfdn table in view. Kena’s laughter bubbled often.
Remlishos stood with Ghent when they finished eating. “I haven’t heard Kena laugh so much in weeks. “Even her bearing has altered.”
People shifted in the dining hall, some going to open seating in the back, several navigators among them. A good chance to get a feel for morale, which Ghent hadn’t had time for lately.
Ghent merged into the fringe of the group and listened. Netlyn sat with her husband on one of the double-wide chairs. She looked worn-down. Was her schedule too much…leading navigation third shift and working parts of others?
Kena and Antony wandered over to the group. Tevd, Delf, and Quon drew Antony into conversation. A relief to see no tension there. Giddech talked with Nerfod, who glared at Antony, then stomped away. Other navigators and some scientists came to join the group. Kena moved between them all with the fluid grace of a Human—her pleasant, often joking words sparking laughter. She was back.
When the Grfdn joined the gathering, Hrndl came to Ghent’s side. Leaning close to his ear, she murmured, “Kena agreed. Easily.”
Frdn approached Kena, waiting in silence. She withdrew from a conversation, then left with him.
Language, too? Ghent’s shoulders relaxed. So many advances in a single day. They’d formed slowly, out of sight, like a barren canyon floor sprouting green overnight.
Someone on the far side of the group said, “The original Kena has returned.”
“What do you mean?” Farian asked.
Giddech answered as though he’d made the comment. “She’s arrogant again.”
Inewin jerked his hand back, Tenelli-style. “The Prednian word you are searching for is confident.”
Giddech sniffed. “They’re the same word in my language.”
“I know, but your audience hears the difference. Learn to speak Prednian.”
Ghent caught the quick ripple beside Giddech’s nose. Maybe the reprimand would get the Chonander’s attention. Inewin was a known language expert, though nothing worked for long with Giddech.
Farian swept a hand in level motion. “But Kena has always seemed confident.”
“That’s not the change,” Thrayl said. “She used to be more outgoing. All energy and fun. Then, she met the PitKreelaundun. Part of her seemed…locked up.”
Ghent glanced at Antony. What did that subtle expression mean? Metchell approached Antony and said something to him. They left together. So, that would be completed, too.
Finally, he could send a message
to the triad that they would love to receive.
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Prickles coursed down ShenLee’s spine as she read the message from VanDar. Nothing but a room designator—on deck one—and the single word now. How strange that such a simple statement could make her nauseous. At least the shift was almost over. TarKeen would be on deck one now. Could he slip away?
She sauntered into the room VanDar had indicated, then swallowed as bile rose from her empty stomach. Armed guards flanked the two doors. Tables held weapons. Small arms, easily hidden. Short-range, but lethal. Dead was dead, regardless of how little power one used to kill.
“Ah, ShenLee.” VanDar said, his voice a smooth welcome. “I’m glad you were able to join us. Come here.”
She felt like everyone was watching her. There must be forty people in the room. She approached VanDar and the members of his inner circle near the weapons. JedKoom, MorDen, and LeckLa, but not TarKeen. How they stared at her!
“The time has come,” VanDar said. “Even the Laundun are demanding Pernanyen’s execution.”
ShenLee turned her head leftward. “There’s no need for our involvement. Let Jenarsig of Shennasee handle that. He’ll arrive soon.”
“The moment he—or his mystery representative—arrives, our opportunity is lost. The current unrest allows us to remove Travannesal and Leonfir from power in one action. Our first step is upon us. We take control of the command room and, thereby, the Epri7.”
“Where is TarKeen?” ShenLee asked.
“He will meet us in the command room.”
“Why not here?”
“Because he is with Leonfir. Timing and position are crucial.”
ShenLee narrowed her eyes. “Does TarKeen know that he will be meeting us in the command room?”
Indrawn breaths whooshed throughout the room as glances darted her way.
VanDar smiled at her. “Small wonder that TarKeen wanted you among us. You miss nothing.” He addressed the crowd. “In case any of you did not hear, I will clarify. TarKeen does not yet know the time or place of this action.”
Smothering silence muted exclamations like a damper on a gong.
Someone raised a dry voice against the stillness. “Is this a power grab, VanDar?”
“I do not seek to usurp a ruling family position. Whether you view things as I do, or as TarKeen does, we have the same goal—a PitKree home-world. In the past, he and I sometimes argued. I admit, the fault was mine, for I overlooked the true cause of his inaction. Perhaps many of you have, also.”
VanDar turned as he spoke. “Consider TarKeen’s dilemma. He is loyal—a commendable trait. He understands the nature of authority. Being a member of the triad both empowers and constrains him. It blocks him from pursuing PitKree goals.” VanDar paused. “Let us remove the constraint from our comrade, so that he may freely choose and act.”
A suspicious voice stretched words. “How, exactly?”
“He needs an event.” VanDar slowed his speech. “A compelling event that provides for lawful success and presents him with a clear and immediate choice.”
ShenLee watched. Worried looks and mutters, but this did not stop them from taking up weapons.
VanDar answered a challenge. “Surprise will serve TarKeen better, for he cannot be expected to report what he doesn’t know. Now, back to this moment. Conceal weapons under your tunics. We will enter the command room on the non-critical side. Spread as far into the room as possible, but do not let any Laundun come between us. If Leonfir will not yield, then I will give you a cue. We must all draw weapons at the same instant. I’ll use the words and now, emphasizing them in a sentence.”
Despite VanDar’s redirection, someone insisted, “But TarKeen must be informed, lest we—”
An irate voice burst out. “TarKeen is false to the PitKree cause!”
“That is unproven,” VanDar said, “but we must discover whether it is true. We will present TarKeen with two paths.” VanDar extended his hands to the right and left. “To stand with us, or to stand with the Laundun. The choice is his. And, at last, we will know what he really believes.”
Two choices and no more. VanDar’s strategy stood out clear to ShenLee. To remove TarKeen’s third option of doing neither. VanDar would force him to make an instant decision before a company of armed rebels. What would they do to him if he didn’t join them? What would VanDar do?
ShenLee ached to get a message to TarKeen, Impossible under JedKoom’s unwavering stare. Even if he hadn’t watched, questioning looks kept turning her way.
As the company tucked weapons out of sight, VanDar turned back to ShenLee and softened his voice. “My only regret is the terrible position this places you in. I cannot help but feel partially to blame, for I urged you toward intimacy with TarKeen. I do not question your loyalty to the PitKree, but I realize how torn you may be at this moment. You are not compelled to join us in the command room.”
ShenLee had guarded her expression throughout, but at this, her eyes widened. Every gaze focused on her now.
“However,” VanDar said, “we must know your decision.” With one hand he picked up a weapon from the table. With the other, he withdrew a vial from a pocket of his tunic. “You may accompany us or stay here. If you choose the latter, we must ensure that you take no action.” He turned the vial between his fingertips. “This is the exact dose needed to send you to sleep for a few hours. You may resume your position in our company when you awaken. Which do you choose? A weapon or a nap?”
She stared into his face, her lips parted. If he was asking for this choice, then he didn’t trust her. And that meant she couldn’t trust him. She had little doubt that VanDar would kill TarKeen if he didn’t stand with the PitKree. If so, she might never awaken. But that was the least of her worries. If she slept, she would lose all possibility of warning TarKeen or of standing at his side when he needed her most. No. Whether he succeeded or died, whether by PitKree or Laundun hands, she would share his fate.
“If it takes you this long to decide,” VanDar said, “perhaps sleep would be best.”
“The only thing that slows my answer, is shock that you would ask such a question.” ShenLee grabbed the weapon from him and tucked it out of sight within her tunic.
He smiled. Gloating victory flashed in his eyes. A subtle exhalation whispered through the room. How many of them had awaited her answer? And what did that mean? Was she making a terrible mistake?
VanDar glanced at the communication device strapped to his wrist, as though it had given him a tactile signal. “They are on their way. It’s time to move.” His voice reverberated. “Our first bold step to our new home-world!”
“Time for the shift assignments,” Leonfir said, motioning for TarKeen to join him as he headed for the command room.
TarKeen matched his pace through the hallway. The routine of starting the next shift gave him a moment to relax before checking on whatever trouble VanDar stirred today.
His comm device vibrated with an emergency pattern. He drew it from his tunic, keeping the message out of Leonfir’s view. A PitKree on duty in the command room had sent an image only. No time for words? A company was in the room, with VanDar at the center.
Heat coursed through TarKeen. Kena’s warning echoed in memory—civil war. They would reach the door in seconds. “Leonfir…”
“Is something wrong?”
“I don’t know. If events turn ugly, distract VanDar.”
The door slid open. TarKeen maintained his stride, hoping Leonfir would match it. He couldn’t leave his captain’s side, but he needed to get as close as possible to VanDar. At least they carried no weapons. The opposite door frame now glowed yellow. Locked. Not good, but disruption in the command room was worse. “ParTan, keep critical staff on task.”
TarKeen took in every face in the company and judged positions. They filled a third of the room—the non-critical side. JedKoom on the far right, MorDen on the far left. ShenLee and LeckLa halfway between on either side of Va
nDar. Oh, if only ShenLee were not with them! Her and…so many friends.
Leonfir halted in the center of the room. Too far from VanDar for the reach of TarKeen’s fist.
“VanDar,” Leonfir said, “you had better have a shining explanation for bringing this crowd into the command room.”
“We demand that you relinquish the rank of captain, on the grounds that you prevent justice due to criminals.”
“Plural?” Leonfir said. “Name these criminals and their crimes.”
“Pernanyen, for the crime of a constrained link that cannot be completed. Travannesal of Frayunomen, for the crime of refusing to execute her.”
While VanDar held all attention, ShenLee shifted her arms back, tightening her tunic against her belly and revealing the outline of a weapon. Hair lifted on the back of TarKeen’s head. They must all be armed. If Leonfir drew his weapon, civil war would begin right now. A Laundun must not die here!
Leonfir ended his response with, “You are free to request a hearing, but you may not disrupt the command room.”
VanDar sneered. “You are as guilty of impeding justice as Travannesal.” He deepened his voice. “And now, I relieve you of authority.”
At his words, every member of the company drew a weapon and pointed it at Leonfir.
“TarKeen,” VanDar said, “It is time for your decision. Will you stand with the PitKree and accept command of the Epri7, or will you stand with the Laundun?”
How could he stop this? Only one possibility. Success depended on Leonfir’s trust. “I, TarKeen of Dain, accept command of the Epri7. This is an order. Point all weapons at the ceiling.”
Many obeyed, but not all. VanDar, JedKoom, and MorDen stood like vengeful statues.
“Sir,” TarKeen said to Leonfir, “I must relieve you of your weapon.”
Leonfir’s eyes flashed rage.
He met them with no expression and released the strap anchoring the weapon at Leonfir’s hip. TarKeen whispered with motionless lips. “Distract.”