Diverse Demands

by Sharon Rose

  “Excellent.” Leonfir clipped the word. They traversed a shield passage between decks one and two before Leonfir spoke again. “Jenarsig tried to access Pernanyen’s quarters while you were gone. He claimed he was taking her into protective custody on his cruiser because of instability on the Epri7.”

  No wonder Leonfir scowled. “Please tell me he was unsuccessful.”

  “He was.” Leonfir took a few more strides. “I had arranged for him to learn that a craft had left for Dur, but not who was on it. When her guards refused Jenarsig entry, by authority of the triad, he demanded the triad’s presence. I arrived first.”

  The hint of a sneer slowed Leonfir’s speech. “He had the audacity to laugh, believing that Travannesal must have gone down to the surface. Travannesal’s arrival silenced his amusement, and the information that you were en route to the planet made him livid, though he didn’t utter a word.”

  “You were right,” TarKeen said.

  “Yes, not that I am pleased. We await his next maneuver.”

  They reached his quarters, and TarKeen was again confined.

  ShenLee pushed herself to her feet as the door closed behind him. “How did it go?”

  “Kena is well and will soon return.” He slid his hands down her shoulders. “I can still hardly believe what happened. Words will not convey it.” He eased into a link with her. “I must show you every detail, for this knowledge must be passed to future generations.”

  Kena grabbed fresh clothes from her dresser. Such a relief to feel cool and clean again, but all she could think of was getting to Antony’s quarters. She paused in her sitting room to check for emfrel in the hallway. None. She darted to his door.

  He was waiting for her. Alone with him, at last. For several minutes, she just rested in the gentle strength of his embrace.

  He eased back and cradled her head in one hand, all communication in his gaze. An exuberant, yet peaceful joy lurked there. Even his voice seemed richer. “Mary asked me to give you her love.”

  “You got to see your sister?”

  His mischievous smile narrowed his eyes. “She likes you.”

  They laughed together, though, really, Kena couldn’t say why. “Will you tell me your journey?”

  “That may take a while. Some of it is…well…it’ll be difficult to find words. But it began and ended with you.”

  “Did it?” Her voice squeaked like she was a little girl.

  “You were in that alcove with Jorlit, and you said my name. I wanted to answer, but I couldn’t find my voice. And then, there was light, but it was so much more than light. It beckoned, almost in a magnetic, irresistible way.” He took a breath, like a joyous sob. “Oh, Kena, it’s beyond words, that place…the sensations…the beauty…but mostly the love!”

  He touched her face. “I’ll try to tell you of that someday. Metchell says it was only eight minutes, but…” He shook his head. “It was much more in that realm. For now, I must tell you the ending. Come. Sit with me.”

  They settled sideways on the sofa, facing each other, one of her hands in his. It seemed like her heart was surging out of her body.

  “Mary and I were walking together,” Antony said, “talking of many things.” He rolled his eyes. “Ugh. Already, a tangent, but Mary said I must tell you. I saw a mountain in the distance, and the people on it were Tenelli. One of them waved to me, and Mary said it was Frethan.”

  Kena brought a hand to her mouth. “Oh! Oh, they do live on. I have always wondered.” Heat surged up her face. “Thank you for telling me.”

  “I see why it matters, now.” He smiled in the kindest way. “But back to what I was saying. Everything was brilliant and lush, but then all of that seemed gone. Sort of invisible, as though the light grew so bright around me that everything else became dark by comparison. In that place, the love is so intense…” He shook his head. “Words like breathtaking or intoxicating are hopelessly inadequate. Even the word God doesn’t convey enough. I Am comes much closer, though not as I understood those words before. Or Immanuel. When I heard it there, its meaning—God with us—intensified. It sounded like Love with us. A dual presence of me and him, inseparably bonded by love.” He paused. “These names of God, and the words…They convey a reality vastly more significant than…” He squeezed her hand. “…than these physical bodies.”

  Speech seemed to fail him. “Oh!” Anthony’s exclamation was half moan, as though a weighty ecstasy flowed within him. “How am I ever going to get this out before someone interrupts us?” He drew a deep breath. “He, Immanuel, was so near. Questions that plagued me, which seemed difficult and contradictory, were answered in an instant, as though they had always been simple. I kept trying to turn and look into his face, and I would see more, but never…everything. At one point, he showed me languages—a vast array.” He sounded awestruck.

  “Ah, Kena.” Even the way he said her name was slow and soft now. “I’ve heard of near-death experiences before. Of the light, the intensity, the beauty. Of talking with those who’ve gone ahead, and of the incredible love. But I’ve never heard anyone describe languages. Have you?”

  “I’ve heard that people may speak different languages, but they could all be understood.”

  “Yes, I heard that at first, but that’s not what I mean. It’s like he showed languages to me. Almost like I visualized them, although that isn’t the right word, either. I don’t know how to describe it. He pointed one out, and I spoke it. And then, he smiled at me. Oh, Kena!” He reached out to touch her face again. “The delight he takes in us!”

  His eyes glistened, and her own tears formed. Pressure built in her chest until it seemed her spirit would leave her body and join him in that place.

  It took him several breaths to calm himself enough to continue. “Near the end, I tried to turn fully to him again, but he stopped me. He said, ‘You cannot come further in yet. It’s not your time to stay here. You need to go back now.’ I had forgotten…” Antony spread a hand in an all-encompassing gesture. “…here. Suddenly, I remembered with perfect clarity. Even the pain. To be honest, I wanted nothing to do with all that agony. I told him so, for I could say anything to him—even disagree. He turned me, his hands on my shoulders…” Antony’s words slowed. “And I saw you.”

  He wiped a tear from her cheek. “You were crying, but not with joyful tears like these. You were calling me. I could feel the strength of his promise, too. It was like solid rock behind me. There was never any question of whether I would live. And when you called to me—at once, I changed my mind. Suddenly, I was moving.” He swallowed. “And then, I was breath entering my body, and I opened my eyes because I just had to find you, Kena, and promise I would stay with you.”

  Somehow, she ended up in his arms. When her laughing and crying subsided, he was rubbing her back and stroking her hair. Really, she could have stayed in his embrace for…well…forever wouldn’t be too long.

  He kissed the top of her head. “I love you, Kena.”

  She couldn’t even answer. Only sob.

  “Peace, my love. All is well. All…is…incredibly…wholly…well.”

  Drowsy awareness of his awkward position ebbed into Antony. Their cozy embrace had turned into a nap on his sofa. His arm tingled with pins and needles. He tried to shift Kena’s weight without waking her.

  No success. She sat up, blinking.

  How long had that been? Antony rubbed his face, then checked his computer. “Ghent and Metchell are back on board the Ontrevay.” He flexed his arm, working circulation back into it. “Do you realize it’s just a matter of time before Ghent wants an explanation?”

  Kena flipped her hair back. “He won’t be the only one.” She stretched. “I suspect you might be repeating it dozens of times. I would hate to have it garbled in re-telling, like what happened with the early explanations of spirit.”

  “Let’s not wait for Ghent,” Antony said. “Let’s find a common room and invite him and the others we think should hear it first.”
/>   “Good plan.”

  Within a few minutes, Antony escorted her to the room they’d reserved. “It’ll be interesting to see how this all plays out.” He looked around the ordinary space. “I have to admit, there are moments where this reality seems kind of…foreign, somehow. And words—They’re so inadequate.” He sat next to her and selected background music on his computer. The melody wafted through the room, as rich as if the instruments were present. “Immanuel, give Kena and me wisdom in what to say.”

  “Agreed,” Kena said. “Immanuel? Is that your preferred name for him now?”

  “It is. God sounds too distant, and father—well, I know that means a lot to you, but it doesn’t hit it for me.”

  “No, I can see why. Mark Galliano didn’t give you the image of a wise and loving father.”

  “True. It’s strange. All my anger and resentment, all the times I tried and failed to forgive him. Now, the sting is…nothing. All I feel is pity. But that doesn’t set the right image for God as father, either. Not for one who is the very essence of an all-powerful love.” Antony shook his head. “I still feel enveloped by him. He is so deeply present. Immanuel just says it: God with us.”

  Kena closed her eyes and inhaled. “I get so…beyond happy, listening to you.”

  A worship song played in the background, and he sang it with abandon. She joined him, the look on her face tugging at him. Like one who had arrived home after an arduous journey.

  Ghent, Hrndl, and Dhgnr arrived as they sang. A moment later, Tevd paused in the open doorway and absorbed the last few measures.

  Antony turned off the music, and Tevd strolled toward them, shaking his head. “Your voice seems—I don’t know what word to use—more powerful, in some way.”

  Antony and Kena exchanged a smile.

  “How would you describe it?” Ghent asked.

  Antony looked toward Kena, hoping she would answer, for there was no word to describe the force surging within him as he sang.

  “He comprehends additional layers of meaning,” Kena said, “so his singing is more complete. I hope that makes sense.”

  Ghent’s brow fur creased. “I’m not sure if I understand, perhaps because it’s art. We’ll let that one go. I have other things to ask, which may be even harder to explain. About when you—I still don’t know what to call this—when you died—or lived again.”

  Antony nodded. “Died and lived again. Yes, I think that conveys it.”

  Tevd perched on the edge of his chair. “Jorlit said…” Tevd shifted his weight. “He saw it but can’t describe it. What happened to you?”

  “There are still a couple others who should hear this.” Antony looked at his computer. “I invited Jorlit to join us, but he says he’s on duty. Metchell will be here in a few minutes.

  Hrndl opened her computer. “I’ll send for Jorlit,” she said.

  “How about another song while we wait. Kena, will you pull up Light of That City?”

  “Ah!” She unclipped her computer. “Ghent, this is the song we told you of that is about life and death and life.”

  As the first notes played, Antony pulled Kena to her feet. Their voices blended in a rendition that replaced every shred of his former grief with unspeakable joy. It was as though the past two years of his life were rewritten. The mourning he had run from was but a brief prelude to boundless rejoicing—a victory infinitely stronger than the false power of death.

  His eyes were only for Kena. No other opinion mattered. He just wanted her to perceive it as he did. The passion in her voice—She was right there with him. This was nothing like the version that had gone so wrong all those weeks ago. Music flowed from each of them and intermingled into joint praise, as though it poured from one spirit, as well as from two.

  Metchell and Jorlit arrived as they sang. By the time the final drumbeat closed the song, the room was bound in electrified silence. Antony drew Kena to sit beside him again on the sofa, unwilling to break the deep hush.

  It took a moment, but Jorlit asked, “Isn’t that the song Kena sang—the one that disturbed you so?”

  Antony nodded.

  Tevd opened his mouth and made a couple false starts. “But why is it so different now? What are the words actually about?”

  How much to share? What were these sairital people able to hear? “It’s about the life that exists outside of the physical constraints of a body. Humans know that phase of life awaits us. We’ve heard descriptions, but it is so much more than we can imagine. It’s impossible to comprehend without experience. I’ve touched it now, and that changes everything.”

  “I still don’t understand,” Tevd said. “What really happened?”

  “My body died. Metchell, would you confirm that?”

  “There is no doubt he was dead,” Metchell said, his voice vibrating with the resonance that Dantokrellie used for emphasis. “Even the Erondur who cared for him knew it, as did YefRon, a PitKreelaundun doctor. I have it recorded. Multiple organ failures. No respiration. No heartbeat. No brain activity. I know it’s hard to believe. I even go back and look at the records myself. But it simply is a fact that he was dead. Kena is the only one who didn’t seem to grasp that fact.”

  “I knew his body was dead.” Kena shrugged. “But I wanted him to return.”

  “Is that why you kept talking to him,” Jorlit asked.

  “Yes. I wasn’t just talking to him, though. Words have an impact in the spiritual realm. I was saying the things that needed to be said to bring him back. Assuming he was willing.”

  “Is that why you had to be with him?” Hrndl asked.

  Kena nodded. “I thought, at first, it was because he needed blood from me. I suppose, that’s still part of it.” She looked into Antony’s eyes. “Would you have returned if I hadn’t called to you?”

  “No.”

  “I still don’t understand,” Jorlit said. “When you weren’t in your body, where were you?”

  “Briefly, I was in the cave. I could see you sitting in the alcove with Kena. Then I went to…I’m not sure how to phrase this because the Prednian language lacks words. I could say that I went to the realm of the spirit, but I suppose that doesn’t have meaning to you.”

  He looked around at their faces—perplexed, every one. If he didn’t go further, they would understand nothing. “As to where, I suspect it is other dimensions, not the ones we traverse in these bodies.” He swept a hand around, including them all.

  “Where doesn’t matter as much as who I was with. Humans perceive the existence of a being who is the creator and sustainer of everything that exists. I’ve heard, some races have a word for him that means creator or life-giver. Mostly, I was with him. I wasn’t in the cave then, but in order to understand, you have to realize that distance is not at all the same in the spirit realm as it is in the physical realm. When Kena called to me, the cave seemed as near as this room is now, and I heard her. That’s when I decided to return.”

  “Quon told me something,” Tevd said, “when you first left. It seemed as though Kena got something like a message that you would die if she didn’t go with you.”

  Kena tilted her head. “That’s an interpretation. The message was really that Antony would not return alive unless I went with him.”

  “But how did you get the message?”

  “The creator is a spirit, and I am a spirit. Therefore, I can hear him.”

  “Is that…” Hrndl hesitated. “Is that related to how you do course design?”

  Kena knit her brow. “Most of the time, I perceive the fourth spatial dimension. That is partially within my spirit. However, the courses for the emergency exit from slip and for approaching this planet were shown to me by the creator.”

  Tevd turned to Ghent. “Did you know that?”

  He shook his head. “No, I only knew they were different. Did you understand it, Antony?”

  “Yes.”

  “Why didn’t either of you tell me.”

  Antony considered his answer. “Becau
se telling people more than they can grasp causes them to reject the whole. I told you Kena didn’t need hindsight because she has a source of information that no one else on the ship has. Even with an example to back it up, that went right past you, because the concept is foreign to a sairital being.”

  “In a way,” Hrndl said, “she tried to tell me, Ghent. She designed—or received—a perfect course to the planet, even though we had Dur’s orbit plotted incorrectly.”

  Ghent gave his quick nod. “We’ve strayed far from the subject.”

  “Not really,” Kena said. “These are not isolated events. They are entwined.”

  His brow fur pleated. “How could course design have something to do with Antony…dying and living again?”

  “Consider the possibility,” Kena said, “that all of this was orchestrated by our creator, largely to meet the need of the Erondur. That course wasn’t just about the Ontrevay finding benzlium, even though our need is desperate. The Erondur are facing extinction!” She paused to look at their faces. “We wouldn’t have found them without direction from our creator.”

  “The children of Eron remember a little of their creator,” Antony said. “They have been asking him for help.”

  “Children of Eron?” Kena’s eyebrows arched. “How do you know that?”

  “Immanuel told me when he showed me their language.”

  Ghent’s brow fur creased deeper. “Immanuel? Explain, please.”

  Antony looked across their faces. “The creator, or life-giver, has several names. Since I returned, I prefer to call him by the name of Immanuel. But the point I wanted to make is that the Erondur needed to see that the help they are receiving was really orchestrated by…the life-igniter. That’s the meaning of their name for him.”

  “When you first returned to life,” Jorlit said slowly, “you spoke. Was it the language of the Erondur?”

  “Yes.”

  Ghent leaned forward. “What did you say?”

  Antony narrowed his eyes and looked past him. “I’ll translate it, though it will lose its poetry.” A shame, for it had subtle charm. Antony considered a moment before speaking.