Diverse Demands

by Sharon Rose

  A deep drawn breath ended with Jenarsig’s voice. “That is not your prerogative. I possess highest rank and may assume the position at my will.”

  “If only,” Kena said, “you were as interested in my rights as you are in your own. Recollect that I am the beneficiary of the triad, not you. Three people made a specific commitment to me to protect Pernanyen until I return. You have tried to override two of those commitments and replace them with your own promise of law, which exists whether you are supporting it or not. In other words, you have committed to nothing. And now, you seek to turn the PitKreelaundun triad into a Laundun triad.”

  “We are all PitKreelaundun.”

  “Then, I should hear a PitKree voice. There are enough Laundun in the triad, and they are fulfilling their commitment. Do not contact me again tomorrow to tell me that Leonfir is unqualified. I will not accept you in place of any of them, for you show no interest in the commitment they made.”

  “If you will not accept my aid in the triad,” Jenarsig snapped, “then, as a primary member of government, I inform you that you try our patience too far. State the time you will return to end this intolerable delay in justice?”

  “Justice is not delayed,” Kena said. “I suspect, it is really judgment that you seek.”

  “State the time!”

  “Time? You sound as though the purpose of justice is to protect a dimension. Time is nothing more than the tapestry upon which we choose. Justice applies to people. If we need more of the tapestry to obtain justice between Pernanyen and me, then so be it.”

  Kena wished she could see their faces, since the silence told her nothing. “Enough has been said of this. I have work to do and must return to it. Travannesal, I am concerned on a broader level.”

  “About what, Kena?”

  “I realize the primaries make decisions in odd numbers, so there is not an impasse. With two of you involved, I see only dissension. If Jenarsig departs, I am content, but if he will not, then please request that a third primary join you. I should very much like to meet one of the PitKree primaries.”

  “I will address your concern,” Travannesal said. “We will speak with Ghent now. Safe travels.”

  Kena jabbed the comm control, then took several deep breaths.

  “You are almost panting,” Antony said.

  “That pompous fool is willing to sacrifice both Pernanyen and TarKeen in order to sabotage peace.”

  “It looks that way. Calm down. Don’t take on more than you can do. Travannesal has his measure. Leonfir, too, and they both have their heels dug in, by the sound of it.” He chuckled. “Much as I enjoy hearing you stomp on Jenarsig’s efforts to push you around, it’s not your task to straighten out their government.”

  Kena sighed. “No. The worst of it is, I don’t know every detail of their laws. Some, but not all. I have no idea if my stomping did any good. It’s even possible I could do harm.”

  He reached over and squeezed her fingers. “Are you ready to leave it in the only hands big enough to hold it?”

  She grinned. “Sure. You say it.” She listened to his request, talking to God as a friend. Simple and short. Just right. “So be it,” she said as he ended. Oh, how sweet to share the challenge with him.

  “We need to get ready for deceleration,” he said. “Let’s see the latest wind patterns.”

  The planet expanded before Antony’s gaze. The boundary between night and day swept forward with relentless precision. Their landing site lay shrouded in darkness.

  Kena selected a shield configuration on the console and said, “Shields are set for atmosphere.”

  They descended within an energy sheath, decelerating until they were low enough to use the wings of the raepour craft. “One of the rare moments,” Antony said, “when the word fly is accurate for my job.”

  Darkness obscured features until they neared the surface. Low mountain ridges and haphazard spiky formations zipped past beneath them, cloaked in shadow. The wind gusted. Antony felt the lift and dip of air currents over the barren plain. It felt like coming home.

  They glided over the first possible benzlium site.

  “The plateau is scored,” Kena said.

  “Looks rough. I prefer that lower plain we just passed.” Antony banked the craft to swing around in a broad arc, then landed.

  Movement ceased. Kena exchanged a smile with him. “Wow! Actually on a planet. It’s been a long time.” She tapped the comm control. “Ontrevay, we have landed. I’m starting an automated data feed.”

  Hrndl’s voice followed a brief comm gap. “How was your descent?”

  “Uneventful,” Antony said.

  A longer pause. Hrndl said, “We’re acquiring data now.”

  Kena pulled the computer from her belt and extended it. “I set our computers to relay comm through the craft. I’ll send you a video to confirm connection.” Kena held up her computer and turned the camera to point through the cockpit’s transparent hull. “On the left, we have a ridge, where we’ll check for benzlium.” She swung in a slow circle. “The plateau merges with these hills, and over here to the right, we have weird spiky stuff. We’ve flown over a lot of that.” Kena ended the video recording and checked readings. “I’ve confirmed the air is safe. It’s every bit as pleasant as Piert promised. A little breezy, though.”

  Antony stood as she talked and unhooked straps holding the sensor units.

  Hrndl said, “We received your video, Kena, but it had gaps, probably due to angling the signal through unstable atmosphere. Set the craft comm system for automated repeat.”

  “Will do,” Kena said. “Antony’s pulling the sensors. We’ll be outside soon.”

  He hefted the equipment onto his back. “Get the hatch.”

  They took their first steps slow, getting a feel of the ground. The breeze played with Kena’s hair. She stared every which way, like she was trying to record a detailed survey in less than a minute. He watched her as much as the distant vistas.

  “Wow.” She breathed the word out. “We’re the first Humans here—ever.” She messed with her computer, which was partially open.

  “What are you running?” he asked.

  “It’s a simple exploration program, I’ve never gotten to use it outside of school. My minor, you know.”

  “I thought you studied cultures.”

  “First-contact unit.” She let the computer dangle from her waist.

  A thin layer of debris littered the plain. Their footsteps crunched, like walking through autumn leaves.

  “It smells funny,” Antony said. “Nothing like Earth.”

  “No.” She scooped up a handful of the debris and handed him a piece. “Look at this. What does it remind you of?” She bent again and pushed the clutter around.

  Like a thick reed, a centimeter in diameter. Brittle, it splintered under the pressure of his fingers. “It’s a dead plant.”

  “Yeah, like bamboo. And look!” She pointed at a few thin, green blades peeking from the dirt. “Some kind of plant is growing.” She pulled one carefully from the ground until it snapped free of a stubborn root. “It’s springtime.” She extended a sensor from her computer, clipping it to the plant fragment.

  “Benzlium, Kena.”

  They strode to the ridge, a line of shadow beneath the climbing sun.

  “We’ll have to grab a little plant matter on the way back, for Piert and company.” Her computer beeped. “Ah! That’s why it smells so unearthly. Freth/prin. Do you realize what this means?”

  “No grazing?”

  She tilted her head. “That’s one way to phrase it.”

  “And here I was looking forward to freeze-dried reeds for lunch,” Antony said.

  “Too bad. Ghent might be able to eat from this planet’s bounty, but we never could.”

  A five-minute walk was enough to reach their goal, a wall of bare rock a couple meters high. Time had fractured it, exposing jagged surfaces amid wind sculptures. “This should work well,” Antony said. He swung the
equipment from his back, set it on a boulder, and separated the units. “Have you used one of these before?”

  “No.” Kena peered into a dark crevice in the cliff wall.

  “Piert explained it before you came to the bay. We want the two halves fifty to a hundred meters apart. They can be on a level surface, although it’s better like this, with one of them lower.” He found a clear spot near the bottom of the wall and positioned it. “Stay here with this one. You may need to move it after I set the other half.”

  He slipped his arms into the straps and shouldered the top unit. A gust of wind hit the back of his neck and rattled the clutter on the plain before subsiding.

  Kena brushed hair from her face. “Starting to heat up. Don’t dally.”

  He found a spot on the cliff face with some toeholds and clambered up. Gray dirt streaked his dark navigation suit. The ground was clear near the cliff, but rougher the farther he went. Debris lay in wind-driven streaks between boulders.

  A few minutes later, he opened his computer to talk with Kena and get the sensor beams aligned. When he saw the first reading, he let out a whoop. “Do you see that on your end?”

  She laughed. “Indeed, I do. And I can hear you without using the comm channel.”

  “We’ll leave them in place to scan through multiple angles, but let Hrndl know and confirm the data feed.” He began the walk back, weaving between boulders. “With an initial reading that high, we won’t need to visit the second site. I’ll be with you in a minute, and we’ll gather all the plant samples you want.”

  “Might skip the plants. Netlyn says a band of storm bursts is forming. Her transmission was breaking up.”

  “What’s a storm burst?”

  “Her words, not mine. You’ll have to ask Netlyn.”

  As if to confirm the forecast, another gust of wind swirled a cloud of plant debris over the plain. He clipped his computer to his belt. They might need to wait out a storm. The Ontrevay would certainly come into orbit for this much benzlium, so they didn’t need to worry about the rendezvous.

  The wind fluctuated, each renewed gust stronger than the preceding one. A distant spike broke off, spun through the air, and snagged the ground. It shattered on contact, raining more debris onto the plain. Like bamboo? Rapid growth? Were those spikes giant plants? The brittle splinters—how would they feel driven by the wind? He began to jog.

  A driving gust fought him as he neared the cliff’s edge. Distant clatter joined the roaring wind. The entire line of spikes leaped into the air.

  “Kena, take cover!” He sprinted the last several meters and jumped from the top of the ridge as broken spears peppered it.

  Wind flung his body against the rock wall, jolting his shoulder. He grunted. His feet scrambled for purchase as he slid down the cliff and landed, crouching behind a fat boulder. He couldn’t see Kena. Debris shattered against the cliff.

  “Kena!” he shouted. “Where are you?”

  “Here.”

  Impossible to place that faint sound amid the wind and clatter. A great roar swept over him. The memory of thrashing elms and a broken branch engulfed him. Where was Kena? Was she hurt?

  The gust abated, and he lurched upright, despite pain in his shoulder. “Kena, where are you?”

  “Here. The gap in the cliff.”

  A broken, hollow branch wedged into the crevice. He jerked it away. Awkward, for his left arm refused to help. “Are you all right?”

  “Yes, Antony, I’m fine.” She emerged from the gap, not a scratch on her.

  He felt light-headed with relief.

  Kena’s eyes widened, and her mouth gaped. “Oh, Antony!”

  What was she looking at? He glanced down his left shoulder. A broken reed protruded. Blood covered his chest and arm. Pain spiked. He reeled.

  Chapter Thirty-Seven

  Kena grabbed Antony’s right arm and hooked it over her shoulder. “Don’t you dare faint. Step sideways.” She moved with him. “Again. Turn. Sit on this rock.”

  She lowered him until the rock bore his weight. Oh, wow! How could a brown-skinned man look so blanched?

  “Antony, remember to breathe.”

  He tried a deeper breath but cringed as the movement reached his shoulder. His eyes squeezed, and his jaw clenched.

  “Take tiny breaths. Lots of tiny breaths. Focus.”

  She moved to his left side and looked closer. The shattered reed protruded near the shoulder joint. Morning shadows made it hard to see behind him, but what was that dark spot on his back? She touched his torn shirt, sticky with blood. A sound caught in his throat. Her stomach twisted.

  Kena’s fingers trembled. All of her instincts were for navigation. She felt stupid and frozen. Bleeding. Apply pressure. How, with that reed sticking out of him?

  A distant roar reached her ears. Beyond their craft, a cloud of debris rose and fell. How long would the local stillness last? “We have to get you to the craft,” she said.

  His lips moved, and she leaned close to hear him. “You need to…pull it out.”

  She grimaced and shook her head. Bad idea. “Better to have Metchell remove it.”

  “Freth/prin…”

  A charge tingled down her nerves. Freth just tasted foul, but prin—that counted as food poisoning, and it wasn’t pretty. What if this plant contained it? What would it do in his bloodstream?

  “You’ll lose more blood if I pull it out. I’m going to immobilize your arm.” She fumbled along his belt, finding the utility tool he always carried. “Is there a knife in this thing?”

  “Laser blade.”

  Her shaky fingers made it hard to fold out implements. Ah, here. She extended its half-sheath as his movement caught her eye.

  He lifted his right hand and grabbed the broken reed.

  “Antony, no!”

  He jerked it. An anguished groan forced itself past his clenched teeth. His hand fell to his lap, the shattered reed slipping from limp fingers. A bundle of splinters. A few long and bloody, but most broken.

  Not good! Blood oozed from his flesh around the protruding stubs. She swallowed hard and did her best to keep her voice calm. “The good news is, you’re not bleeding very fast. I’m going to cut your shirt off and use it to stabilize your arm.”

  “K.”

  Keeping the sheath toward his skin, she slipped the blade under fabric and sliced it open. “Hope this isn’t your favorite nav suit.”

  “Nah. I’ve been…looking for…a reason to ditch it.”

  “This should do it.” She continued trivial remarks as she worked, drawing a few lame quips from him. At least he was staying with her. She slit his T-shirt away from entangled splinters, then cut long strips from the shirt of his nav suit to make a sling. She knelt to pass a strip behind his back.

  “Kena…” Antony’s pitch edged up.

  “Yes?”

  “I think…I hope…I’m hallucinating.”

  One look at his face made her jump up and follow the path of his eyes. Her breath sucked between her teeth. What was that?

  “D’you see it?” he asked. “An animal?”

  “Yeah.” Something approached from the hills. “I gotta tie this up quick. It might hurt.” He grunted as she anchored his arm to his chest. At least his color looked a little better.

  Now, what? She looked across the plain. The animal was closer. She could make out the movement of forelegs and a swaying motion, but deciphering—oh! “Antony, I think that animal has a rider. If I support you, can you walk?”

  “I’ll try.” He looked toward their craft. “We won’t make it…before they reach us.”

  A gust of wind swept her hair across her face. Not another storm, too! “Oh, beloved, we need help. Right now!”

  Kena groped for her computer and tapped its surface with bloodied fingers. “Ontrevay, we have a problem. Can you hear me?” The last response she’d received from Hrndl had broken up. The brief delay turned into an agony of silence.

  She could do nothing but give their sta
tus. “Antony was injured in the storm that just swept over us. There is dead plant matter embedded in his shoulder. The plants here are freth/prin. A large animal is heading our way, and I think another being is mounted on it. We’re by the ridge where we set the first sensor unit. Are you receiving this?”

  Kena waited again, watching the beings’ approach. The futility of her message engulfed her. No one could reach them in time, or even give them useful advice. She recorded once more. “Ontrevay, this planet is inhabited. I repeat, this planet is inhabited.” She clipped the computer to her belt. “Well…they’ll get that. It just might take a few minutes. They’ll be coming down, one way or another.”

  Antony didn’t answer. She looked into his face. His lips sagged, but he met her eyes with a clear gaze.

  The creature neared, its panting breath huffing against the wind. Its gait sounded unearthly, for too many feet rattled through the debris. Another head peered over the shoulder of the rider. And now, a third leaned sideways to view them.

  The woolly beast slowed to a walk. It wore a bridle and stared at them, its round, dark eyes peering through a fringe of stiff hair. Banana-shaped ears turned their way. Its mouth hung open as it panted, revealing a row of even teeth.

  “Good news,” Kena said. “Herbivore teeth.”

  “We’ll be fine,” Antony murmured. “As long as…doesn’t step on us.”

  “Do you feel that?” she asked. “It’s emfrel.”

  “Yeah. Why can…we feel it?”

  “Don’t know. I never have until after acclimation. This is much like Plynteth. Maybe that’s why.”

  The creature stopped just beyond the rocks at the base of the cliff. It turned and lowered its head to grab a mouthful of dead plants. Three bipeds sat astride it, one between each pair of legs.

  For a moment, they stared. Only faces and hands were visible. Pearly gray skin and prominent bone structure. Rough clothing, probably animal skins, covered everything else. What did they think of her and Antony in form-fitting clothes? Torn and bloody, too. The center one uttered a couple syllables.