by Sharon Rose
“The first act of Jenarsig,” Leonfir said, “was to greet Kena and Ghent. At least, that’s what he said. Travannesal included me in the meeting, which makes me wonder if he suspected trouble. If so, he was correct. Jenarsig informed Kena that he was replacing Travannesal in the triad.”
No! “What?”
“Kena seemed as stunned as we were. His attempt failed. I’ll show you the recording.”
Leonfir entered his access code on the room’s comm device. He displayed the visual of both sides.
TarKeen studied it. “I gather, you have not told them about VanDar’s failed mutiny.”
“No.” The hair at Leonfir’s temples drew back. “They might deem our ship unsafe for Kena. That is not a message we want to convey.”
“True. However, there are limits to how many times you can say I’m unavailable before Kena realizes something is wrong.”
“I know. Travannesal has already told me that he will not speak of it to them. If he casts doubt on you, it weakens the triad. If he reassures them you will be cleared, it could be deemed predetermination and disqualify him from judging.”
If Travannesal couldn’t judge, Jenarsig would take that role. TarKeen could imagine no worse judge than a primary with a questionable agenda. “Has Travannesal begun the trial process?”
Leonfir nodded. “He published a request for statements soon after the event.” Leonfir began to pace the open area, motioning for TarKeen to walk at his side. “There’s another development you should know of. The Ontrevay experienced dimensional drive failure. They won’t be able to reach the clean benzlium source they sought, but they have other options nearby.”
TarKeen compressed his lips. “I still wonder if they comprehend tra-pentazine contamination.”
“Don’t we all,” Leonfir said. “I’ve ordered Rialmerray to assess their location and course. The expected delay is still far less than the time we agreed to originally, but they’re approaching another ejection arm with plenty of potential trouble.”
TarKeen didn’t respond.
Leonfir asked, “Is there anything else you wish to speak of?”
Many things, all competing. He must clear himself so he could advocate for ShenLee and the others. Yet, the more he claimed to know of them, the more it implicated him in VanDar’s plans. Whatever they had been. Did they extend beyond mutiny to something of far greater import? Kena’s warning of civil war still echoed in his memory. As if that threat weren’t enough, peace with the Collaborative would fail if Kena could not return. Was Jenarsig trying to disrupt their tentative truce?
TarKeen stilled his cycling thoughts. What was most crucial? Prevent war. Two of them. To avoid war with the Collaborative, he must protect Kena’s right to complete the link. What could he do about civil war? Nothing on his own, but he had to get word of the threat to the PitKree ruling families. Both of these meant he must get out of confinement.
“Do you know whether Travannesal has requested additional judges?”
“I haven’t received any rendezvous requests. Travannesal doesn’t speak of it, but I assumed he wanted to complete trials quickly, and that would mean judging them himself. A wise choice, because it would ensure they remain separate from Kena’s return. We need stability, now more than ever.”
TarKeen turned in another circuit of the room. When should he reveal this? Would it damage his own case? Perhaps, but if no PitKree came to the Epri7, there was only one way for him to get them a message. “There is something Travannesal should know.”
Leonfir glanced sideways at him.
“I don’t see how it could pertain to any charges against me,” TarKeen said, “so I believe you may legally repeat my words to him. I discovered, just days ago, that VanDar’s parents did not pass ancient memory to any of their children. They had that right, of course, but oddly, the family has hidden this. Perhaps the Laundun don’t care, but the other PitKree ruling families should know.”
Leonfir was silent for a moment. “I will tell him.”
After Leonfir left, TarKeen leaned against his high table. Despite the troublesome news, he savored the relief of conversation. Physical restriction, be it ever so irksome, was nothing compared to mental inactivity. He went to the food prep area for the final step in a tedious recipe, rolling out and refolding the dough before placing it in the oven. Inadequate distraction, but he had to do something.
The bread was still baking when a guard unlocked his door again. YefRon and ShenLee this time. He concealed his emotions but held her gaze. She sat in a mobile chair that allowed supported movement of her healing leg.
The guard stood in the doorway to prevent unauthorized communication, while YefRon gave TarKeen instructions on caring for ShenLee.
“I understand,” TarKeen said.
The door whished shut behind YefRon. At last, TarKeen was alone with ShenLee. Her tears began as he lifted her from the mobile chair. He carried her to the sofa he kept for Laundun visitors. It allowed room for her leg to stretch out while he held her.
“My gem, have you been suppressing tears this whole time?”
She nodded against his chest, her face hidden. “I was never alone…Laundun guards always watching…and I…I…”
“Then, let them flow now.” He smoothed a hand over her ebony hair, cradling her until her breathing calmed, then urged her into a link.
They drew comfort from the communion, before they spoke and shared the knowledge behind words.
“A hundred times, I have tried to fathom why you came with VanDar,” TarKeen said.
“He hid it from me, calling me to join our company after everyone else assembled. He must have known I would warn you. And then he…” As her voice trailed off, she drew images from memory and let them flow to him, all the way through her walk to the command room. Her sickening realization that she might need to kill—and who she could bear to kill. She skipped back to deciding between the two choices VanDar permitted her. “Everyone was watching me, and I was so afraid I made the wrong decision. If I had opted differently, do you think the others would…would still have…”
“It’s impossible to know what might have been. You had good reason to fear whatever was in that vial. He was doing to you the same as he did to me. Forcing us to choose between two things we didn’t want by removing the choice we otherwise would have made.”
“I’ve seen him twist things to win people over, but this…He is so manipulative! So base.”
“Was,” TarKeen said. “His voice is forever silenced. That’s the flaw of manipulation. It builds resentment instead of loyalty. Even if he’d survived, the instant he loosened his grip, those he coerced would turn on him.”
Her thoughts shifted to mourning, moving over faces of friends who now awaited trial, confined under guard just as they were. He filtered his reaction, for rage simmered in him. She didn’t need that added stress.
“What do you think will happen?” she asked. The longing to know and the fear of knowing mingled within her.
“That is yet to be determined. It may be best to send our thoughts elsewhere.”
“I don’t see how they can find you guilty of mutiny. It’s obvious you only accepted so you could kill the leaders. You protected Leonfir and gave command back to him.”
Perhaps she would find some comfort in this. “You joined my efforts the instant I fired, so your motive for coming is evident. You gave me warning that you carried a weapon, and you can describe how VanDar coerced you. Your defense is sound.”
Her disquiet persisted, and she queried within him to judge his confidence. Then, she spoke what worried them both. “What of the others?”
“Once I am cleared, I may be able to help them. At the very least, I’ll tell how we came together informally to discuss how best to find and colonize a planet. I’ll show how VanDar manipulated them—those who turned to help us, that is. The ones VanDar added—” His anger flared again. “They may make their own excuses.”
“I hope that is enough.”
“As do I.”
She was silent for a moment, following thoughts she didn’t share. Worry seeped from her reasonings. “The problem is…it implies that we knew what was going on and did not report it. That makes us complicit.”
“That is only one interpretation.”
He felt her ire rise, and she snapped the heels of her hands together. “He made it about Pernanyen. This was never about her! If we cannot show our true cause, then not only has VanDar stolen our ability to act. He has silenced our voices.”
“When I speak before judges, our true cause and lawful desires will be presented.” He engaged with her emotions, affirmed them, and began the soothing process. “I’m not sure if you can tell this, my gem, but I can feel some instability within you—a side-effect of the drugs you need. It’s not a good time for endless internal gyrations. Allow pauses in thinking about this, be it ever so vital.”
She exhaled and let him move through her thoughts, stilling those that churned. Several breaths later, she asked, “What is the wonderful smell?”
TarKeen chuckled. “Bread. My desperation for something to do drove me to a tedious recipe that my grandfather used to make.”
“Wow! That is desperate. Was his profession related to cooking?”
“No. Food was the medium of his art.” TarKeen repositioned her as he spoke, so she could support herself. “The dough must be rolled out and re-folded many times. I consumed so much of it as a child that we linked while he made it so I could learn his technique.” TarKeen shifted around to rise. “If I did it correctly, you are about to enjoy the lightest, flakiest bread ever made by a PitKree.”
Her lips curved. If only the smile reached deeper. Not much chance of that in their current straights.
TarKeen walked between guards to the trial chamber, his wrists bound behind his back. Attendants swung the doors open at his approach, calling to mind the day he had escorted Kena to this room, careful to show her honor. No honor awaited him.
His footsteps echoed. The room, with its ornate columns, was almost empty. Why? The guards brought him to the two primaries, who stood in their somber-hued tunics, with heavy, gold collars of office resting on their shoulders. Travannesal of Frayunomen, in his formal midnight brown tunic, and Jenarsig of Shennasee, wearing deep red. What would Kena absorb from—no. He must focus.
TarKeen went to his knees, before the guards could force him down.
“TarKeen of Dain,” Travannesal said, “you are summoned for investigation into the mutiny orchestrated by VanDar of Kell.” He looked to a guard. “Release his bonds.”
The guard jerked the tight straps free, as Travannesal said, “TarKeen, you have not yet been charged with a crime. You may stand. Guards, wait outside.”
So, this was not his trial. TarKeen rose and inclined his head to each of the primaries. Men who drove the future. Leonfir stood to one side. Though he could not judge, his voice would be respected.
Travannesal continued his flowing speech. “According to strict, literal interpretation, you committed a crime by verbally taking command from Leonfir. However, he is convinced that you did so only to protect him and end the mutiny. His belief is corroborated by your prompt return of command. In fact, he was indignant that we discussed charging you. However, we are concerned about certain aspects of the event.”
TarKeen dipped his head in respect. “He understood my motives correctly.”
“We have statements,” Travannesal said, “from all who were on duty in the command room and from individuals who heard VanDar speak at gatherings, which you often attended. Captain Leonfir has also shared his knowledge of VanDar and your past efforts to monitor him.”
He paused. TarKeen held silence. None of this was any surprise, for it was their duty to gather information.
“Now, we come to the awkward aspect.” Travannesal shifted his stance. “If you are not being charged with a crime, we need your input as well. But if you are to be charged with a crime, we should not be speaking with you outside of your trial. Therefore, you may choose whether you wish to converse with us now.”
If he could avoid a trial altogether, so much the better. However, he must be careful. “I will speak with you, for I know I have done nothing wrong.”
Travannesal let a breath ease out. “We have noted the differing behaviors during the mutiny. Some participants immediately followed your orders, others did not. This could make it easy to pass judgment, but it could also mislead us.”
What did he mean? TarKeen hesitated. “Only one conclusion seems logical to me.”
“Really?” Jenarsig asked. “You—with your reputation for farsighted analysis—can imagine no other?”
TarKeen frowned. What was he digging for? “No. Not unless you have false information. Or more likely, fragments out of context.”
“Perhaps you hold the context for those fragments,” Jenarsig said, “for you have…what word to use…associated with VanDar for months.”
TarKeen dipped his head to him. “With respect, sir, I disagree, since the word implies agreement.”
The lines beside Jenarsig’s nose deepened. “Depending on how information is interpreted, I could use any word between monitored and colluded.”
Travannesal’s nostrils pinched, but he addressed TarKeen. “It is VanDar that we judge, though he is dead and a known instigator of mutiny. We must learn whether more was intended and whether others of the family of Kell are involved. VanDar’s motivation is unclear. Enlighten us.”
TarKeen shook his head. “I doubt any of us will ever be certain of his motives.”
“How often did you link with him?” Travannesal asked.
“Never.”
“He has been estranged from his wife for many years,” Jenarsig said. “So estranged that she and their children live on-planet. Who, then, did he link with?”
“I don’t know. His…circle of acquaintances was fluid. You may not find anyone who engaged in more than a superficial link with him. I doubt he wanted his motives known, for they were never clear from his words.” TarKeen tried to read their inscrutable faces.
Jenarsig finally spoke. “We hear many motives, TarKeen. Anger over the delayed judgment of Pernanyen. Distrust of the Collaborative’s so-called peace. Seeking a ship to find a PitKree home-world. A desire to impose a PitKree majority in our government. Which of these motivated VanDar’s mutiny?”
Why were they asking this, and how would his answer affect the trials? “It is a difficult question.” TarKeen raised his eyes to Jenarsig. “When I reconsider all of VanDar’s shifting words, I could conclude these are merely layers to hide his real motive.”
“And what might that be?”
“An underlying power lust, possibly coupled with a fear that the family of Kell will be disqualified from government. I can think of nothing else that fits all his words and actions. But this is supposition, not fact. He never spoke this, for it could gain him no support.”
“And yet, he had a substantial following,” Jenarsig said. “Why?”
TarKeen shook his head. “Be careful with assumptions.” They maintained an expectant silence. He must say more, but how much? “VanDar discovered a group who sometimes discussed PitKree colonization of a new home-world. Their professions tended to such interests, so it was a natural flow, which I also enjoyed.
“VanDar started selecting places to come together. He had a habit of dominating conversation and soon behaved as though he were a leader of some sort. That does not make those people his followers any more than it makes me his follower.”
Jenarsig asked, “Did they also discuss Pernanyen’s delayed judgment?”
TarKeen turned his head leftward. “The entire crew discusses that.”
“True.” Travannesal nodded. “They debate a PitKree home-world, as well, but the entire crew does not commit insurrection. VanDar claimed Pernanyen’s delayed judgment as the basis for his mutiny. Is that the reason that others joined him?”
“Of those who f
ollowed him intentionally, I cannot guess their motives. Of those who turned immediately to my orders, I think they pretended to join him so they could stop him.”
“You are asking us to believe,” Jenarsig said, “that they participated in a mutiny in order to prevent a mutiny. They could so easily have refused. VanDar would not have had enough people to achieve his ends. It is far more likely that every one of them wanted the mutiny.”
Pressure built in TarKeen’s chest. He shoved his anger down, lest it betray him. “You can believe that because you did not know VanDar and his ability to manipulate. He used whatever persuasions would mislead someone into his influence. Consider Pernanyen’s trial, if you want a taste of his techniques. Ask others of his distortions. How he makes one thing seem like another. Even I, who knew his ways, was briefly in his control. He claimed to give me a choice. In fact, he confined me to two choices I would never accept. Joining his mutiny or instant death for both Leonfir and me.”
“But you were separate from him,” Jenarsig said. “The rest came with him.”
“Then, I will give you another example, which I have reason to know indisputably. ShenLee was given only moments to decide between joining the mutiny or allowing him to drug her. He claimed the drug would put her to sleep, but she suspected it would kill her. He granted her no chance to warn me. JedKoom watched her constantly. She had to come with them. The moment I arrived, she warned me by pulling her tunic snug to reveal her hidden weapon. If she had one, I knew they all did.”
“Why,” Jenarsig asked, “was ShenLee even aware of mutiny?”
“She wasn’t until that moment, but she helped me monitor VanDar, who sometimes excluded me. When VanDar wasn’t pretending we were allies, he accused me of being traitorous to my own people, as though our races are not united. He believed he was using ShenLee to monitor my knowledge of him and what I might do. He must have begun to suspect her loyalty to him. In fact, she had none. His suspicion, at the moment he took action, placed her in danger.”
“It may be as you say.” Jenarsig looked aside. “But you would protect her, for you are courting her. Perhaps you have even wed her by now.”