Diverse Demands

by Sharon Rose

  Dhgnr nodded and started down the craft’s hatch ramp.

  “And…” Antony hesitated as Dhgnr looked back at him. This was so hard to say. “If I don’t come back, will you protect Kena?”

  Dhgnr’s eyes widened and he inclined his head. “I will.” He stepped off the side of the ramp as Kena strode up it.

  In silence they both looked down the ramp as Dhgnr strode from view.

  She turned those gorgeous eyes up to his. “Antony…” Her lips twitched like she was having as much trouble speaking as he. “I haven’t wanted to ask…I didn’t think you wanted to talk about it, and it’s not my place to pry, but…I need to know. Are you…” Her voice suspended.

  “Are you asking about me and God?”

  “Yeah.”

  A crooked smile snuck out as he angled his head. “We’re on speaking terms again. He’s kind of persistent, you know, and…with you around…What can I say? He was always there, and it was getting really awkward ignoring him.”

  She tipped her head against his chest and shook with weak laughter.

  He slid his hands down her arms to take her hands in his—and then realized what she held.

  She looked up at him again as he stared at the cup and bread.

  He longed for it—but as the first of many times with her. Not the first and last. “Lord, we need your persistence now. Help us.”

  Plynteth emfrel approached. Kena must have felt it too, for she began.

  “We thank you, beloved Lord, for your sacrifice and everlasting love. For your body, broken for us, then resurrected.” She snapped the striped, pierced square of bread and gave him half. They ate, staring into each other’s eyes.

  The emfrel hovered some way from the ramp. Ghent was just within his peripheral vision, but Antony didn’t acknowledge. This moment was his, Kena’s, and God’s. He continued the prayer. “Thank you for the covenant of forgiveness and grace…and for paying the price with your blood when we could not. We drink in remembrance.”

  He drank half the cup, then held it to her lips so she could drink the rest.

  Peace washed over her face. She let a long breath out and opened her eyes to him. Strong, confident eyes, with a great longing in their depths.

  He wrapped his arms around her, pulling her close. She returned the embrace with equal fervor, her head tight against his shoulder. If only she would look up. His entire body ached for her. She should be his. To be separated now, before they could be joined…this was so wrong. But her own words wouldn’t let him stay. The way she had cringed from his question. It would be worse if he didn’t go down. How many would die at the clusters? He couldn’t allow that.

  A distant planet spun, and Ghent hovered. Antony pressed his lips into Kena’s hair—he couldn’t even get a decent kiss—then turned to look down the ramp at Ghent.

  Ghent had paused to watch Kena and Antony inside the craft. Their motions…this must be the custom Kena claimed as a right.

  Better to wait a few more minutes. He still couldn’t believe she had cited cultural interference. Kena never did that. She had practically threatened him with it. Still not as shocking as what Antony had asked of Dhgnr—to protect Kena. That was the captain’s duty. Had he not proven himself to the fullest extent possible? He’d entered an enemy ship to rescue her. Even now, he was trying to protect her. But Antony didn’t trust him with her.

  They stood so close. Touching. Eyes locked with one another. Antony believed the words she had spoken. Was that why he didn’t trust Ghent? Because they thought Ghent was sending him to his death? Even if he came back, neither Kena nor Antony would trust him again. Whether they followed orders paled in comparison. He was losing them both.

  They embraced. How could he separate them?

  Antony turned to look at him, as though permitting his approach. Ghent walked up the hatch ramp, still uncertain.

  Kena turned her face to him, though she remained within Antony’s embrace.

  “It is time to depart,” Ghent said, “or we lose the advantage of calm weather.”

  “The calm won’t last, anyway,” Kena said, “but don’t worry over it. He will land and place the sensor.”

  Her face held utter peace. How? “Kena…Hrndl showed me your conversation. She wants me to send you down with Antony. I do realize you have inexplicably known things before, but they were things that were already true in that moment. Now, you speak of the future as though you announce fact. The future cannot be known.”

  “Mind and sairit can only perceive one aspect of time,” she said. “This is not true of spirit. Even though you cannot experience it, you should be able to acknowledge the possibility. You know how the time dimensions slide within one another in a rift. They could not do so, unless all of time always exists. The future is as real as the past and present.”

  Memory stirred. What had she once said to him? Something about the significance of time? Even then, he had not understood her. “I can grasp that you perceive time differently than I, but nothing more. I cannot base decisions on what I do not understand.”

  “That is true,” Antony said, “but we do understand. Since the information came to a Human on behalf of a Human, you could allow Kena and me to make the final decision.”

  Ghent sighed. “I must also consider the PitKreelaundun. Kena, what will happen to our hopes of peace if you don’t survive this mission?”

  “It is Antony who is in danger, not me.”

  “But—” Why did he have to state the obvious? “If the mission endangers him—or Quon, for that matter—does it not also endanger you?”

  Her face softened toward him as she lifted her head from Antony’s chest. “Oh, Ghent, are you worried for me?”

  “Of course!”

  “I suppose it seems so to you, but it is not. No warning was given to me. If I go down with Antony, he will survive, so he and I may return together.”

  He could only stare at her. “What sort of risk…”

  Antony smiled wryly as Ghent’s voice faltered. “My dear one, you only confuse him more.” He turned back to Ghent. “I do not envy you trying to make a decision on behalf of Humans. The more I consider it, the more I believe the decision is not yours. It is Kena’s and mine. Will you permit us to decide?”

  Obvious what Antony was doing. Relieving Ghent of responsibility for the outcome. Not true, for he knew what their decision was. What would a Human captain do? A scene sparked in Ghent’s imagination. A Human commission investigating Antony’s death. They asked him why he refused to let Antony and Kena decide. The fur on the back of his neck lifted.

  Ghent drew a breath. “I grant you the choice.”

  Their expressions leapt.

  “Oh, thank you, thank you!” Kena exclaimed as she darted for the cockpit.

  Lines crinkled around Antony’s eyes. “Sir, could you please see that the bay is cleared for us?”

  In other words, get off the hatch ramp. Ghent nodded. He jumped down and headed for the nearest energy seal as the hatch rose.

  Chapter Thirty-Six

  “Here I put all this effort into convincing them”—Kena spread her hands—“to no avail. Then, you make one point, and Ghent says, ‘Fine, you can go.’”

  Antony laughed as he powered up their primary drive. She was adorable when her dramatic side peeked out. “Those weren’t his exact words. You sound like you’re mad that he changed his mind.”

  She switched to her British accent. “Nonsense. Your strategy was really quite brilliant. I applaud it.”

  He chuckled. “Are you ready for maximum power?”

  “Quite ready. Let’s get well on our way before they change their minds and summon us back inside the Ontrevay.”

  Antony initiated the programmed burn. Thrust pinned them in their couches.

  Silence stretched. High thrust had a way of doing that.

  After a few minutes, Antony looked over at Kena. Her eyelids were drooping. “Are you all right?”

  “Yeah.” She smiled at hi
m, turning her head against the padded backrest. “It’s been a wild couple of days.”

  “Can’t argue with that.”

  “It’s not over yet, either,” she said.

  “At least we get a little break. It’s like being on a Human-only mission back in our own solar system.”

  Her smile turned quirky. “As long as we don’t use the comm system, that is.”

  He laughed again. He felt like a death sentence had lifted, and now the least little thing caused joy to bubble out. “By the way, this all happened kind of fast, and I never got a chance to ask. This danger I’m facing—that we can overcome together, but not alone—what exactly is it?”

  “I don’t know.” Her voice fell. “It occurs to me that I never will. If you’re piloting, I’ll be watching the atmosphere and picking your route. Of course, I’ll choose the best I can find, and then you’ll fly us safely home. It might not even look that hard. Who’s to say that Quon or anyone else wouldn’t have chosen the same route?”

  “Hm. Yes, I see your point. If I don’t die, your warning can’t be proven. Hate to let you down there, but I prefer to live.”

  “Yeah, I guess I prefer that outcome, too.”

  Her grudging tone drew another smile from him. “So, you get stuck with the downside of a gift you never asked for.”

  “Well, actually, I kind of did. In fact, you could say I demanded it. Talk about naive!”

  “What’s this?”

  “When I was seventeen, there was a mechanic at the airport where I did my flight training. He could diagnose problems faster than anyone. I assumed he was experienced. Later, I realized that a wisdom gift was the only explanation. He was a self-effacing sort of guy—never talked about how he figured things out so quick.”

  Her gaze shifted as though watching a memory. “One day, he was all hot, insisting that a plane shouldn’t be allowed to take off. He said it was going to crash. A couple people looked at him like his brain was out of sync, but those who knew him listened. They opened the engines and found a serious problem in one of them. I told God, right then and there, that I wanted that gift. A vacuum is not the safest of environments. It seemed pretty necessary.”

  “You mean, you’ve had a wisdom gift since you were seventeen?”

  She shook her head. “It didn’t show up until I was plotting real slip courses in space. It’s more perception than words. I kind of see structure that just happens to align with desirable multi-dimensional courses.”

  Was he finally going to hear how she did it? “What do they look like?”

  “Kind of like normal space mapped onto helix shapes. I plot out the three-dimensional aspects, and—what a surprise—the computer calculates a nice straight path along the fourth spatial dimension.”

  He chuckled. “It’s almost like you’re cheating.”

  “Or not! It has never worked for a simulation or an exam. Only real space. I’m just using all the tools at my disposal. And by the way, practice makes me better at it.”

  “I didn’t really mean that you cheat, you know. How about when it comes as words instead of courses?”

  “That is rare. And frankly, I’m glad. Even though it’s precious, it doesn’t always get rave reviews. In fact, I got reprimanded for it a couple days ago, and there’s a good chance I’ll lose my career for this morning’s stunt.”

  The strain sounded in her voice. He reached over to wrap his fingers around her hand, despite the strong thrust. “Chin up. I happen to know how much God loves you. He’ll give you the grace you need to walk over the obstacles.”

  “Oh, Antony! You don’t know how much this means. To have a kindred spirit encouraging me…especially when I forget to look his way. I never even got to hear how he won you over.”

  “It was gradual. No single event.” The primary drive eased away from maximum power, lessening the pressure. “I’ll tell you one of them that you’ll appreciate.” Antony savored the enchanting tilt of her eyes as she angled her head.

  “I was grumping one evening after we parted,” he said. “You had made some remark, not even directly about God, but with the viewpoint of those who know him. It reminded me of him, and I didn’t want to be reminded. All of a sudden—on the inside—I could see him turn and look at you, and he got this smile. Like someone enjoying an amazing sunrise. And then, he said—kind of hushed, with deep appreciation—‘She is beautiful, isn’t she!’”

  “Aw!” Multiple tones purred out of her.

  “I’ve always known,” Antony said, “that he sees all of us that way, but…it was enlightening. Then, he turned and looked at me with just as much warmth. Far more than I ever perceived before Mary died. So much more love than I deserved, especially the way I’d been blaming him. And…well…the next thing I know, he and I are talking like we always used to.”

  Kena laughed. Something between a chuckle and a giggle that bubbled out and forced her lips apart. “Oh, this trip together is so worth it!” She reached for her console. “I suppose, I’m going to have to do some actual work, though. Let’s see if we can get something more on this atmosphere and its funky weather.”

  Several minutes later, she said, “I can see why Piert finds this planet puzzling. It spends part of its orbit in deep freeze and another part where it must get some nasty meteor strikes, and yet here is this balmy atmosphere with hints of biological life.”

  “Don’t tell me you have exobiology training as well.”

  “No, but I can read a computer analysis of an atmospheric scan.” She tapped out instructions to send the scan results to Piert, then programmed automated communication feeds.

  He glanced at her work. “What’s that for?”

  “Just to make things easier after we disembark. Our computers can communicate to this craft, which can relay it to the Ontrevay. More like a live feed, rather than waiting for us to report.”

  A voice interrupted. “This is Ghent. Kena, are you on a non-critical task?”

  Kena stared at the comm controls. “So much for that Human-only feel.” She tapped the control. “Antony is piloting. I’m available.”

  “Good. Jenarsig contacted us, wanting to talk with you. When he refused to wait, I finally got him to tell me what it’s about. I think you’re going to want to respond to this.”

  Kena’s chest tightened. “Is something wrong with Pernanyen?”

  No,” Ghent said. “It’s about TarKeen. Jenarsig wanted the contact between you and him only. I insisted that he include the rest of the triad and requested that they keep it to the point.”

  “All right. Put it through.”

  They kept their greetings brief, and Kena asked, “What is this about?”

  Jenarsig responded. “TarKeen is charged with the crime of mutiny and is no longer capable of fulfilling his duties. In order to ensure your lawful rights for completing the constrained link with Pernanyen, I am assuming TarKeen’s role in the triad.”

  Kena’s mouth dropped open. The sensation of a shifting foundation struck worse than yesterday. How could TarKeen be involved in mutiny? She searched within and felt the same words stir. Stand firm. Kena exchanged a look with Antony.

  “Did you receive my transmission?” Jenarsig asked.

  “I received it, but what you say of TarKeen is incomprehensible.”

  “Unfortunately, I cannot explain further. I must stand as judge and cannot, by law, discuss the matter outside of his trial.”

  This man as judge? Not good. “Travannesal, would you—”

  Jenarsig started in again, but Travannesal spoke over him. “She addressed me. Be silent.” His voice quieted. “Kena, the fact stated about TarKeen is incomplete. I cannot speak of it either, for I must also maintain my role of judge. Leonfir, however, cannot judge this, for he is the primary witness. I have asked him to give you basic facts that are already common knowledge.”

  She released her breath. “Ah. Leonfir, please tell me.”

  “Certainly.” He summarized, with their style of prepared sp
eech.

  She breathed easier as she listened. These actions fit TarKeen.

  Leonfir ended with, “I then restored order, which included confining all participants to quarters, pending investigation. TarKeen was also confined, even though I never expected him to be charged with a crime.”

  “That is rather difficult to understand,” Kena said. “When did all this happen?”

  “The mutiny occurred shortly after you told us that you would return to Pernanyen without traveling to Earth first. It was before Jenarsig arrived. There is something else I want to explain.”

  “Please do.”

  “Travannesal and I discussed telling you about the mutiny after it happened. I believed that TarKeen would be released soon. It never occurred to me that the triad would be affected. The reason we decided against telling you is because we were concerned that you or Ghent might deem the Epri7 too unsafe to return. I admit to certain concerns before, so we took precautions. Pernanyen is, and always has been, protected. We also had safeguards planned for your arrival. Now that we have apprehended the few who would take extreme action, there is no danger to you here.”

  His words slowed. Perhaps his way of expressing sincerity. “I cannot guess, Kena, how you perceive all of this, but I assure you, it is not a reason to change your mind. I repeat my commitment to you. I ensure that Pernanyen will be kept healthy, comfortable, and safe until you return. And I extend my commitment. You will be safely and respectfully welcomed to the Epri7.”

  “I also remain committed,” Travannesal said. “Do you have any other questions on what occurred?”

  “Yes. When was TarKeen charged, and who made that decision?”

  “The charge was inevitable,” Jenarsig said, “the moment TarKeen took command from Captain Leonfir.”

  Leonfir said, “Jenarsig charged him, about an hour ago.”

  “Thank you, Leonfir,” Kena said. “I appreciate your clarity.”

  “I’m glad you are satisfied,” Jenarsig said. “When do you—”

  Kena dropped her pitch. “I am not satisfied with everything, Jenarsig. I do not accept you as a member of the triad.”