Diverse Demands

by Sharon Rose

  “I don’t know when or how…” Kena smiled. “But, oh, I would love to show you one.”

  His shoulders lifted and settled. “The future is full of hope. Tonight, we will ride”—he chuttered—“an octa-llama to your craft, then his handler will bring him back to the animal-cave. We cannot risk it longer than that, for splinters in the wind can blind them.”

  “That will be enough.”

  She dozed then, waking when her computer beeped. Dur’s evening had begun.

  Turglund and Vinzlet took her to the lookout again. The walk and climb seemed harder this time. She sank to her knees and looked down at her craft on the dim plain. Grass bent in the wind.

  Ghent’s voice came from her computer. “How are you, Kena?”

  “Hungry. I’ve felt better, but I’m still okay. What’s the weather prediction for tonight?”

  They covered some flight details, and she looked at the 3-D rendering that Netlyn sent her of the plain, plateau, and hills, complete with wind patterns. The image hovered above her computer, wowing the Erondur.

  “All right,” Kena said, “I’ve got a spot picked out near the hills to set the craft down. Turglund has arranged for us to ride one of their animals to my craft. We’ll walk back to the cavern in EVA fields.”

  “Approved,” Ghent said. He gave her a start time so she could set an alarm. “We’ll do a final check and approval when you exit the cavern.”

  “Acknowledged.”

  Metchell’s voice came over the speaker. “What is Antony’s condition?”

  “His fever is worse. Quite a bit of swelling around his shoulder and arm. He sleeps and wakes a lot. He’s lucid when he talks to me.”

  “How’s your hand?”

  She moved it as she answered. “It aches. Some swelling. I can move my fingers okay, but a tight fist hurts.”

  “Do you have a fever?”

  “Maybe. These caves are really warm, so it’s hard to say.”

  “Do you feel well enough to pilot?”

  “I do.”

  “Approved, for now,” Metchell said, “but we have another option if you’re not fit to fly. You could go to the craft to deliver samples and get supplies, but leave the craft where it is. We’ll decide before you take off.”

  “I’ll keep that in mind.” No point in saying what she thought of that worthless option. “Ghent, have you heard anything from the PitKreelaundun?”

  “I gave Leonfir an update, then pressed him to tell me how things really are.”

  “And?”

  “Leonfir won’t say anything direct about Jenarsig, but it seems he is pushing for Pernanyen to be executed. Travannesal is fighting that and got the other primaries to forbid her execution for three days. Probably down to two days by now. I don’t think we can wait for NorGah, particularly since we don’t know if he will help. I convinced Leonfir to bring the Epri7 to us.”

  Tingles spiked along the back of her neck, but she held her tongue.

  “I hope to have you and Antony on board the Ontrevay by the time they arrive. Even in a worst-case scenario, they couldn’t claim that we are needlessly delaying. That seems to be Jenarsig’s latest tactic.”

  Kena made a sound in her throat. “What a thorn, he is!” She stewed for a moment. Antony needed her right now—far more than Pernanyen—and the last thing she wanted was someone to stir up trouble on the Epri7. But something else felt off. “I’m a little worried,” Kena said, “about asking for another primary and then making it harder for him to reach us.”

  “They can fix that by simply waiting for him to arrive. Focus on tonight. Hrndl wants to review your task list.”

  Talking with Hrndl reinforced how much support Kena really had. Everything was planned, from instructions on how to prep samples for the lab unit in the back of the craft, to what supplies she should carry back to the cavern.

  “Okay, that’s all clear,” Kena said.

  “Is there anything else you need?” Hrndl asked.

  Kena almost said no, but a thought at the back of her mind clamored for attention. “Could you get me broad scans encompassing this system, and the locations of the two approaching PitKreelaundun ships?”

  After a short silence, Hrndl said, “I know the location of the Epri7, but not of the Pont cruiser.”

  “Sure, but if you told Leonfir that I asked, he would likely share it. That will also show them I care about the arrival of the primary I requested.”

  “I see.”

  “For tonight, I promise not to even think about the PitKreelaundun until after I set the tether base.”

  “In that case,” Hrndl said, “I will feed the data to the craft’s nav computer.”

  Kena returned with her escorts to Antony.

  He was awake, watching for her. The tightness around his eyes released, and he asked, “How are plans goin’?”

  Was his voice weaker? She slid her hand into his. “It’s all set.” She quirked her lips. “Hrndl has every minute planned for me.”

  He forced a smile. “’She think you forgot howta fly?”

  “No. It’s a little funny, but I do appreciate it. That raepour is a lander, after all, and has a few features we don’t use much. The lab, especially.” She talked through all the plans, mostly to distract him, and showed him the 3-D rendering.

  Antony blinked at it. “Not ’nough detail. Lot of boulders up there. Might…” He took a few breaths, then focused on her. “…be hard to find a clear spot…for the tether base.”

  “Hmm. Could I scrape them away with an energy field?”

  “Might work.” He made the mistake of movement and fought a grimace. “You better get some sleep.”

  Antony feigned sleep so Kena would leave his side. What he wouldn’t give to get off this table and help her. The least twitch made him go hot all over, firing vivid memories of strange beings probing the wound. Probably infected.

  And now, Kena was going out into the night—the storm—without him.

  Murloff wiped sweat from Antony’s body again. Copying what Kena had done. Did he know what sweat was? Doubtful, with fur.

  The lights dimmed. Murloff spread a fur rug on the floor and lay down. Doctors slept in the same room as their patients? He tried to imagine Metchell doing that and would have laughed if he didn’t hurt so bad.

  Vinzlet tended Kena, propping up her injured hand as Kena stretched out on the alcove rug.

  The light faded darker still. Only the passage entry glowed. Vinzlet sat within that light, her hands moving rhythmically, on what, he couldn’t see. Taking the first watch?

  Slumber taunted him, claiming him just enough that he would move. Pain jerked him awake so many times, he dreaded sleep. Somewhere in the cycle, Murloff rose, and Vinzlet took a turn on the rug. The night crawled at an imperceptible pace.

  Kena’s alarm chimed. Time hadn’t stopped, after all, but darkness still buried him in despair.

  The lights glowed faintly again. Kena stood and came to his side, closing the shirt of her nav suit. “I’m sorry if I woke you.”

  He tried to smile. “You didn’t.”

  “Can’t sleep, huh?”

  “Now and then.”

  She frowned. He better watch his voice. Put a little umph into it.

  She touched his cheek and forehead, then pasted on a smile of her own. “Well, I’m off to get us some food.”

  He managed to find her hand and squeeze it. “Yeah. See you soon.”

  Turglund waited in the archway, wearing animal-skin clothes. Kena followed him into the passage.

  Antony let his face sag, as his breath sighed out. Would he see her again? Oh God, please take care of her.

  The night sky halted Kena’s breath. The nebula, hazy and sparkling with stars, rose above a hill. She pivoted. A distant planet glowed in half-phase. Turglund nudged her arm and pointed at the octa-llama. Oh, yeah. Best get on with it. Wind lifted her hair, but nothing like yesterday’s gale. Her computer chimed.

  “What’s your status?�
�� Ghent asked.

  “I’m set to go. Confirm that quick, please. They want me to mount.”

  “Go ahead, Kena.”

  She swung a leg over the octa-llama. Turglund mounted behind and wrapped a hide over her. Didn’t seem necessary, but she wasn’t going to fuss. The handler urged the octa-llama to run faster than yesterday. Wind uttered hissing whispers as it sliced through crevices in the cliff. They followed the base of the plateau, then cut across the plain to her craft. The nebula cast an eerie glow over waving grass.

  Kena dismounted and flipped open the access panel beside the raepour’s hatch. The ramp settled to the ground. She darted up it, grabbed a hand light from the equipment rack, then ran back outside for a quick inspection circuit of the craft. The octa-llama was already jogging back toward the plateau when she stooped to pick a knee-high grass sample. Much tougher than yesterday. Good thing she had Antony’s knife to cut it off at ground level.

  “Come inside.” She motioned for Turglund to follow her.

  Kena closed the hatch and went to the cockpit to power up systems. The console lit, and she opened the comm channel. “Ontrevay, this is Kena from inside the raepour craft.”

  “Excellent,” Hrndl said. “Craft status?”

  “No damage codes. Plenty of power for maneuvers. I’m getting started on the task list now.” She turned, almost colliding with Turglund. He stepped back, his eyes following her every move.

  Food first. Metchell had specified a drink. She consumed half of the thick beverage before stopping for breath. Samples into the lab unit, next. Third, she got Turglund strapped into the cockpit couch beside her and attached med sensors to both of them.

  Metchell’s voice came over the comm system. “Your temperature is elevated, Kena.”

  She glanced at the display. True, but not dangerous. Other indicators were okay. “My headache is already better.” Nothing like food to make the world—any world—a better place. “When can I offer Turglund some freth/prin food from the emergency stash?”

  “Give him one wafer.”

  She twisted around to grab the package and spied two bananas. Oh, yes! She handed him a wafer. “Food.”

  The way he eyed it before eating tore at her heart. At least, he had something to eat as she peeled a banana and consumed an enormous bite. If she was this ravenous, what did he feel?

  “Hrndl, the wind speed isn’t bad at ground level. What’s the forecast?”

  “Acceptable for now, but we see the same heating pattern as yesterday. The sooner you get up and back down, the better.”

  “Okay,” Kena said over a mouthful of banana. She powered up the raepour’s flight systems. The craft’s external lighting cut across the undulating grassland.

  Kena paused for a quick link with Turglund. “How does the food taste?”

  “Bland.” His quivery smile didn’t come close to the emotions tumbling within him. Behind lurking worry, he was on the verge of crying with relief and joy. He—all of them—could eat this simple food.

  “How does your stomach feel?”

  “Good.”

  “We’ll wait a little while to be sure it stays good.” She felt his acceptance as he released the link.

  “Time to fly,” Kena said. She took the craft up. How different than piloting in a weightless vacuum. The lift of wind under the wings—both foreign and natural. She swung around to curve low over the plateau.

  Turglund clutched the armrests.

  “All is well,” Kena said in his language.

  His pale blue eyes were enormous, but if she wasn’t mistaken, that was an awed smile on his face.

  Kena flew broad circles, partly to send close-up scans to the Ontrevay, but also to look for the clearest spot. Near the edge looked best. She switched to hover mode and deployed the energy shield. Watching the surface on a screen, she executed a low pass. A few boulders tumbled ahead of her invisible plow. It worked!

  Kena made several passes, raised up to verify results, then dropped back down. She tapped her console, opening the external payload bay and releasing the tether base. Her craft lifted, and she adjusted. That thing was heavy.

  “Tether base deployed,” she reported. “I’m backing off while it powers up.”

  She watched from nearby. Yellow lights marked the eight anchor points around the disk. One by one, they turned green, as yellow lines illuminated, connecting them.

  “The base has powered up, and it’s setting anchors.” She waited. A background murmur of voices reached her over the open comm. Just hearing them spread warmth through her chest. “All anchors are green,” she said. “It’s leveling.”

  The yellow tracings turned green on one edge then followed around to close the octagon. Green extended from each point, converging on the yellow center. It flashed a brilliant beacon skyward.

  “We have a stable, level base.”

  “Testing contact.” Hrndl’s low voice gained umph. “We have connection.”

  Kena clapped. They wouldn’t understand, but she needed it. “Fabulous. I’m off to the hills.” She swept the raepour away and brought it down as planned. “Hrndl, I’ve landed. I checked the tether base power, one last time. It’s actually increasing.”

  “I read that, too,” Hrndl replied. “It must have found some benzlium to tap. Beyond doubt, these results are all that we hoped and more.”

  “Oh, yes! I’m behind the hill now, so let me know of any weather changes on the far side.”

  “Will do. Pack up.”

  “In a minute.” Kena pulled up the nav scans she’d requested as her craft’s drive systems shut down.

  Turglund looked between her and the screen. He fidgeted.

  “Does your stomach still feel good?” she asked.

  “Yes.”

  She handed him the pack of freth/prin food. “This is yours now. Eat something.”

  He sampled a different item, while she studied the nav data. He pointed at the display and asked, “What?”

  She gestured to the far side. “Dur and Ontrevay.” But it was the course lines from the Epri7 and another dot labeled Pont cruiser that she cared about. NorGah would arrive two days later than the Epri7. She closed her eyes and turned her attention inward. I don’t even know if I want him to come sooner.

  Ghent’s voice broke the silence. “Winds are building, Kena. Are you packing supplies yet?”

  “Soon,” she murmured. Beloved, I need to know if…There it was. An alternate course line glowed, and yes, it would cut his travel time. Kena traced it and transmitted to the Ontrevay. “Hrndl, refine this course, please. Ghent, if it checks out safe, please send it to NorGah with my compliments and all those elaborate words they like.” Another success! “I’ll pack up, now.”

  Kena put on an EVA belt first, showing Turglund what to expect, then got the other one on him and activated it. “Walk around. Get used to it.”

  He touched his ear. Hearing her through the field’s comm system must sound strange to him. He took awkward steps, touching the walls. It reminded her of her own first time, adjusting to the weirdness of contacting an object and feeling pressure, but not the expected surface.

  She stuffed all the food into a pack, along with a few other items, and swung it onto her shoulders. “Okay, Turglund. Let’s go to the cavern.” She gave him the hand light, and they left the craft nestled snug in the lee of a hill.

  The nebula was fainter. Kena could make out the silhouette of hilltops, but all else was lost in shadow. It was up to Turglund now. He swung the light around, picking his way slowly at first, but soon walking with more confidence. They rounded the hill, and wind buffeted them. An odd dichotomy. No sensation on her skin, despite the pressure of the wind fighting their progress through rugged terrain. Turglund located a footpath, which made the going easier. They reached the broad path that the octa-llama had taken into the valley. The sky lightened as they trudged. Even amid the hills, the wind fought them. They staggered on. The massive cavern doors ahead were closed tight. A gust kno
cked her and Turglund down several meters from their goal. Turglund crawled toward the sealed entrance. She followed as debris whirled around them.

  Only when they reached the doors, did Kena see a smaller outline, like a door within a gate. Turglund grasped a lever and pulled down. Nothing happened. Was it broken? Then, the door opened from within, and hands grabbed them, tugging them inside.

  The door slammed with an iron bang. Airborne debris fell to the floor. They sat in a circle of staring faces, those nearest running their hands over the surface of her EVA field.

  Kena’s relief twisted. “I must send a message to Ghent.” She activated her computer and gestured at the door.

  Turglund stood, raised a bar that braced the small door, and allowed it to open a crack.

  “Ontrevay, we reached the cavern safely, but the wind is fierce.” She didn’t want to say it, but she must. “Do not descend yet. I repeat, do not descend. Please acknowledge.”

  Ghent answered, his voice somber. “Warning acknowledged.”

  The door slammed again. All of her successes faded with its dying echo. She and Antony were still stranded.

  Chapter Forty-One

  Kena’s heart sped when she saw Antony. They had turned him. His face was slack and pale. She darted to his side and grabbed his hand. Only then, did he seem to notice her.

  “Did something…happen while I was gone?”

  “Not really,” he sighed. “They changed…the bandage. Repositioned…”

  How weak, he sounded. The cloth wrapping his shoulder was no longer bloodstained. Antony lay on his right side, bolsters supporting his left arm and his back. Better, she supposed, to keep it above the heart. She touched his face. Hotter still.

  “How’d it go?” Antony asked.

  What? Oh, her jaunt. “Uh, good.” Kena slid the pack from her shoulders. “I brought food. We’ll start with a liquid meal that Metchell specified for breaking a fast. He said to give you an anti-nausea pill first.”

  “Just like…zero-G rookie.” He tried a faint smile.

  Talk about unconvincing. She got the pill and some water into him, then the drink, little by little. She told him of placing the tether base and various details, hoping to distract him. Her legs ached from standing on the rock floor.