Diverse Demands

by Sharon Rose

  “Not yet. She is too distressed. Her actions are consistent with what I have said. You have no cause to doubt the truth of this, nor the extent of VanDar’s manipulation. No matter what coercion he used with others, their actions also prove their intent to thwart him.”

  Jenarsig shook his head. “It proves only that they follow you. They could have believed you would join the mutiny, and intended to follow you in that.” He swung around to Leonfir. “Does it not disturb you that TarKeen has a following more loyal to him than to you?”

  “No. Commander TarKeen is a leader. It is natural that people follow him. He is loyal to me, so through his leadership, they follow both him and me.”

  A tight smile pulled at Jenarsig’s lips, but it did not lighten his expression. “TarKeen, your captain is remarkably certain of your loyalty. I am not as convinced.”

  “He knows me far better than you do.”

  “And yet, I am being asked to judge many, based on your assertions alone.”

  TarKeen dipped his head. “You asked me for information. It is your choice whether you make use of it.”

  “Oh, I do wish to use it,’ Jenarsig said. “I just need to be sure it is accurate.”

  TarKeen narrowed his eyes. “What are you asking?”

  “A constrained link, of course. Nothing else will work.”

  Heat pulsed through TarKeen. Silence stretched.

  Jenarsig murmured, “You have a choice. Just as you had a choice whether to talk with us. You said you were willing, since you had done nothing wrong.”

  The implication felt like a punch in the gut. If he said no, he appeared guilty. In a constrained link, the dominant would search back to early talk of mutiny—to the days when TarKeen had considered that path. A choice he had rejected would now destroy him. And everyone else that he sought to protect. He could claim the PitKree moral stance against constraint, but not while he supported Kena’s rights. Every escape he turned to was blocked.

  TarKeen uttered soft, venomous words. “You should not find VanDar’s manipulation hard to understand, for you are the same.”

  Jenarsig sucked in a breath with both lungs.

  “You claimed,” TarKeen said, “to gather information about VanDar and others. Now you demand a constrained link with me, and if I decline, not only will you judge others more harshly, you will claim that I am lying. Which will mean I must be tried for some crime. But once a constrained link is requested, the trial has no meaning, for you cast doubt on every word I could say, even before I utter it.” TarKeen’s voice deepened. “Before you charge me with a crime, you steal my right to a trial.”

  “If you are not guilty…” Jenarsig let the words dangle.

  “If I am not guilty, I must submit to unjustified assault. Let us not pretend that a constrained link is comfortable.”

  “Would that be such a burden in light of what it means to your loyal followers?” Jenarsig asked.

  “Now, what do you imply?”

  “If I find proof that any two of you agree to your assertions, then I will grant that truth to the others.”

  “And now you coerce me by threatening my friends. This is misuse of—”

  “Silence!” Jenarsig panted. “I will tolerate no more of your disrespect. You had far too much knowledge and didn’t report it. That makes you complicit. Only your motives are in doubt. Make your choice. Will you or will you not submit to a constr—”

  “Desist.” Travannesal turned cold eyes on Jenarsig.

  TarKeen breathed again as Travannesal continued, slow and dispassionate. “TarKeen’s objection is valid. You cannot require a constrained link unless a trial fails to establish guilt or innocence.”

  Jenarsig huffed through his nose. “The facts remain. For all of them.” He flicked his gaze away. “Their actions were mutiny, and only their motives are in doubt. By what other means than a constrained link, may we judge motives? If anything, I am being lenient in requiring that only two of their party agree. Tell me, how else may we judge with certainty?”

  Travannesal narrowed his nostrils. “You are short-sighted, Jenarsig.”

  “Am I, Travannesal? Is a constrained link valid for determining motives, or is it not?”

  TarKeen’s gut clenched tighter. Jenarsig sought to discredit Pernanyen’s link with Kena.

  “Short-sighted, yes,” Travannesal snapped.

  Jenarsig’s lips stretched in a tight line. “I charge TarKeen with mutiny.”

  Travannesal turned fully to Jenarsig. “If you use anything said in this room to attempt to disqualify me as a judge, understand that I have equal or better grounds to disqualify you. Leonfir, have the guards return TarKeen to his quarters, then come to my suite.”

  TarKeen’s stomach threatened its own revolt as they led him away. How had this turned so quickly? From a trusted commander to an accused criminal in moments. Or a tool. Would Jenarsig use him against Kena?

  Chapter Thirty-Five

  Kena’s morning alarm pulled her from a dream of flight. She was in the raepour craft with Antony, except it was like a hopper, and they were caught in a thunderstorm much like the one he’d described on Earth. Instead of the traffic controller’s voice, These Thousand Hills played over the comm system. Okay, now that was just ridiculous.

  She usually gave herself a little time before setting her status to available, but not today. Just as well, since Hrndl had sent her a message—early duty, but no reason. Another quick protein drink for breakfast, which she guzzled while pulling on her navigation suit. She closed the shirt, hoping it was worth the hustle, then strode to the nav section.

  Kena wasn’t the only one here early. Antony, Ghent, and Hrndl joined Netlyn and some third-shift navigators, who were still on duty. Piert, too. Unusual. They studied the main screen, which displayed the additional course she had designed last night.

  Hrndl glanced her way. “Thanks for your forethought on a landing course.”

  “Do we need to use it?”

  “Yes,” Netlyn said. “There’s just no way to confirm adequate benzlium from space.”

  “Kena,” Hrndl said, “we’re advancing the launch time. I thought you might want to see the changes.”

  Kena started the time progression. “Why the hurry?”

  “It will give us time to check two deposits. We’ll still start with the site you selected, but if it disappoints us, we can move on to another. Perhaps more importantly, we can land near dawn at the first site, while the wind is calmer.”

  Quon walked in at that moment and asked, “What’s the zip about?”

  Hrndl repeated the essential details while Kena continued her review. All navigational parameters were solid, but it was different from what she’d been shown. Beloved, is it still good?

  It is good. Go with Antony to the planet surface.”

  Antony drew near enough so he could murmur to her. “When did you design the course?”

  “It came to me after you left last night.”

  “Need I ask where it’s from?”

  She smiled. “I think you know.” She glanced toward Ghent, feeling his scrutiny. Could he hear their soft words?

  “Do you have comments on the changes, Kena?” Ghent asked.

  His speech was slower than usual. Was he annoyed that they spoke between themselves? “It’s a little longer. I suggest packing a lunch.”

  Quon laughed. “Never heard that course modification before.”

  “Is the raepour craft ready?” Antony asked.

  “Yes.” Hrndl turned to him. “The sensor unit is loaded. emergency supplies were checked. The energy tether base is in the external payload bay. I’m giving you mission command, for none of us can match your experience.”

  Netlyn gestured for him to join her. “The schedule is going to get tight soon, but I want you to look at the wind data we captured yesterday.”

  “I’ll get our EVA belts,” Kena said.

  Piert shook his head. “You won’t need them. The air is breathable. That much,
we can check from this distance. It’s also warmer than we anticipated. Gravity is nearly equal to the Ontrevay’s. You’ll hardly notice the difference. You might even want to eat that lunch outside.”

  Kena chuckled and turned to Antony. “Care for a picnic?”

  “Kena,” Hrndl said.

  ”Yes?”

  “You’re not going down with him. I’m sending Quon as support navigator.”

  A slow-motion effect took over. “But I must.” Kena’s voice sounded strange, even to her own ears. Low, soft, emphatic.

  Hrndl shook her head.

  “Uh—” Antony frowned. “Excuse me, ma’am, but…you did give me command of the mission. Doesn’t that give me input into the choice of support navigator?”

  “It does,” Hrndl said, her words measured.

  “The flight has some risk,” he said. “The weather on that planet changes rapidly, and it’s difficult to predict. Kena’s techniques match mine. She is the most suitable partner for me.”

  Hrndl held straight posture. “Your points have merit, but they are not the only considerations. Quon is qualified to support you. I maintain my decision.”

  Quon stood like a statue, only his strained eyes moving between Humans and Grfdn.

  “Hrndl—” Kena began.

  “No, Kena,” Ghent said, his firm voice startling her.

  She turned aside from his stern gaze, clamping her lips together.

  Hrndl moved past her. “Quon, come here and review this wind data.”

  Kena stepped back to make room. Her calves brushed a chair, and she sank onto it. Her lips tingled as though oxygen was in short supply. Why was this affecting her so? She drew a few breaths, trying to regain her equilibrium. Help me, beloved, my strength and shield. Hold me steady.

  His response was far from what she expected. Antony will not return from the planet alive unless you go down with him.

  The tingles spread to her cheeks. Her heart sped, each beat tangible within her chest.

  Tell him.

  This was not something she could say. They would not forgive another insubordination.

  Tell him.

  An image filled her mind. A dead branch hurtling down as Mary ran. Blood everywhere. What if God had told someone to warn her, and they hadn’t?

  “Ghent,” she murmured, lifting beseeching eyes to his.

  “No, Kena. What Antony said is true. The mission is dangerous. I wouldn’t even allow it if it wasn’t for all the tra-pentazine near the clusters. I will not risk you.”

  “But I am not in danger. He is.”

  “Do not ask again.”

  She closed her lips and watched Antony’s back. Rigid for a few seconds, then he pointed out something to Quon.

  Tell him! Her lord’s voice resounded through her entire being.

  This would cost her rank. No, her career. But what did that matter if she held silent and Antony died? A great ache gripped her chest. “Antony, the mission is too dangerous. I recommend you decline it.”

  He turned to her, lips parted. They stared at one another, as if through a silent tunnel. He answered slowly. “That is something I am not at all likely to do.”

  “This is something I’m not at all likely to say. You will not return from the planet alive unless I go down with you.”

  Someone drew breath to speak, but Antony held up a hand. “Please. Allow me a moment.” He squatted beside her chair. Staring up into her eyes, he asked, “Do you speak from spirit?”

  She whispered her answer in English, “From the Spirit of God.”

  “Speak Prednian,” Ghent demanded.

  “Is it word for word?” Antony asked her.

  She stared into an image that no one else could see, then nodded. “You’ll land safely and place the sensor. It’s returning alive that won’t happen unless I’m with you.”

  “But if I don’t go down at all?”

  Her eyes dragged to the left, almost against her will. She saw the courses she had drawn and knew they were never intended to be followed—only to persuade them to go to the planet first. At the end of the lines were shattered craft and floating bodies. She shuddered and averted her eyes. “That’s worse.”

  Antony nodded. He swallowed so loud she could hear it over the harsh cadence of Ghent’s voice. Surreal distance separated her from everyone except this man beside her. She didn’t catch what Ghent said, but Antony must have, for he stood and answered.

  “Sir—you misunderstand. I will not decline the mission.”

  Kena grasped Antony’s hand and pulled herself to her feet.

  Ghent’s strong cadence held. “I will not send her down with you.”

  “I realize that. I will go alone.”

  “What?” Ghent snapped.

  “If I must, I can pilot without a support navigator. But I cannot guarantee that I can bring Quon back. I will not place his life in jeopardy along with mine. Either I go alone, or not at all. It’s your choice between those two options.”

  During the stunned silence, Antony took Kena’s face in his hands. “Thank you for telling me.”

  Her voice was barely audible. “May I pray with you before you leave?” No Prednian word for pray. Too bad. “Not here. In private.”

  His lips twitched in little jerky motions, but he got them under control. “Please.”

  “I have bread and wine from Earth. May I serve you?”

  He blinked. “You do?”

  She nodded, and he exhaled a shaky laugh as he touched his forehead against hers. “Using the word wine loosely.”

  Netlyn snapped something about time being short.

  “I should not be surprised,” Antony said. “Bring them to the craft.”

  They drew apart, and Kena felt as though she stepped back into the realm of the Ontrevay.

  “She is not joining you in that craft,” Ghent stated.

  “It’s only to give us a few minutes of privacy,” Antony said. “I won’t even close the hatch.”

  “No. We do not have time to waste.”

  Kena faced Ghent, her voice as calm as it was firm. “He requests a Human custom that must be allowed when death is likely. Denying it is extreme cultural interference, Ghent. I will defend Antony’s right to it.”

  He took a half step back, his eyes wide.

  Kena strode to the door.

  Hrndl’s voice uttered hurried words to Ghent, but Kena didn’t pause. Her rapid pace and fixed gaze made others clear a path in the busy hallways. She went straight to the dresser in her sleeping room and jerked open the bottom drawer.

  The door’s comm unit chimed. Grfdn emfrel. Hrndl said, “Kena, I’m coming in.” The door slid open. Officer’s override.

  Kena set a case on the dresser and flipped the lid.

  Hrndl braced her hands on the door frame between the two rooms. “I need to understand what’s happening.”

  “If I knew how to explain it, I would have already done so.” Kena mixed a drop of dark red concentrate with water and shook the covered cup.

  “What are you doing?” Hrndl asked.

  Kena took a matzo wafer from the case. “Preparing what Humans give to someone who is about to die.” She turned toward the door with bread and cup, but Hrndl didn’t move.

  “Do you really believe he is going to die? And that your presence would change that?”

  “Hrndl, I just destroyed my career. How can you think I would have done so if I wasn’t sure?”

  “Your career isn’t over. I’ll—”

  “What difference does that make if Antony dies? How could I trust any of you again, when you would not let me save his life?”

  Hrndl’s shoulders heaved. “But how can you know?”

  Kena let her eyelids fall. “How do I know the things I cannot know? That there was a baby needing rescue in that disabled craft. That the PitKreelaundun are two races, not one. That they are on the brink of civil war. Yet, these things I couldn’t know are all true. And now, how did I know which direction led toward benz
lium? Or which course would bring us right up to a planet, though we had its orbit wrong. Or even that we needed a trip to the surface?” She stepped nearer. “Not everything can be explained, Hrndl. How many examples do you need? Shall we wait for proof again? What will you say to me when you see Antony’s dead body?”

  Hrndl’s breath vibrated in her throat, but she formed no answer.

  “Please, let me pass.” Kena held up the bread and cup. “I must go to Antony.”

  Ghent met Hrndl’s gaze the instant the nav section door slid open. He followed her to the private room.

  “Link with me,” she said. The conversation she’d just had with Kena flowed into his mind.

  Hrndl gave him the space of a breath to consider. “To Kena, this is not about command. This is about Antony’s life. She believes—she is convinced—that he is about to die.”

  “Do you think this changes our decision?” Ghent asked.

  “Yes. Even though we don’t understand how Kena knows things, we have evidence that she has been correct in the past. We must consider the possibility that she is correct in this, also.”

  “The future cannot be known. Consider the ramifications, Hrndl. Are you willing to relinquish command authority for all your navigators?”

  “For all? No. For Kena? That’s a different question.” She took a few steps away, then turned back to him. “I suspect that Kena possesses an authority we do not comprehend. But one thing I can assure you, if Antony dies, Kena will never again accept our orders.”

  A comm tone sounded, followed by Netlyn’s voice overhead. “Sorry to interrupt, but Kena is heading to Antony’s craft. We cannot depressurize the bay. If we don’t launch soon, we’ll lose the advantage of a dawn landing.”

  Hrndl looked to Ghent. “You know my decision, but you are captain.”

  “I am. And I must consider the PitKreelaundun, as well as this crew.” Ghent pressed the comm button. “Stand by, Netlyn. I’m going to the bay.”

  Antony turned to Dhgnr as hurried footsteps echoed across the bay. No emfrel. “That’s Kena. Will you give us a few minutes of privacy?”