Diverse Similarity

by Sharon Rose

She lifted her gaze to his. “To give you a taste of the figurative; at Earth’s dawn, sunlight traces its signature in the atmosphere. Perfectly straight rays are visible, spreading in all directions. We perceive that as a hint of light’s nature. In the past few decades, we’ve come to use the phrase ‘riding the wings of the dawn’ as a figurative reference to traveling in dimensional slip.”

  “Ah. Yet you said the poem was old?”

  “Indeed. Among other reasons, we preserve this set of poems because we perceive them as timeless—that is, they maintain meaning even as the ages pass.”

  A slow smile stretched his lips. “Cultures are so fascinating. Who does the poem refer to with the words I and you?”

  That question could open the proverbial can of worms. “Either the author or the reader can assume the role of I. The word you refers to the creator. Does the Plynteth race embrace the concept of an ancient creator?”

  “In a general sense, yes.” He angled his head toward the book. “Though, I could not show you milenia-old references to such an entity. I have read that Human’s place considerable value on comprehending historical information. It’s an unusual trait and not one I grasp easily, but you’ve given me an inate portrayal of its value. Thank you.”

  For an instant, she toyed with digging deeper. “You’re welcome.”

  “I would love to spend hours speaking of culture with you,” Ghent said, “but Metchell advises brief contact for now, so I will leave you.” He stood as he spoke. “I understand that your memories of the bay and ex op command are vague, at best. Jorlit was on duty when you arrived, so Metchell asked him to escort you through those areas. Frethan will also come to see you later.”

  Kena leaned back. “Hopefully before boredom sets in.”

  “Ah. The thirst so common in navigators—to always be active.” He paused by the door. “Before I go, please tell me how uncomfortable this has been.”

  “Not uncomfortable, exactly—just a bit intense. The feeling is diminishing.”

  He gave her one of his quick nods and left.

  Kena stared at the book again. She had let another opportunity slip away. If only she were as good at conveying Human culture as she was at learning other cultures. True, Ghent’s emfrel was disconcerting, but that wasn’t the real barrier. Mistranslations could sting. She remembered the day when a crew member had warped and twisted the words of a cherished song. More of a burn, that one. Kena sighed. She had hoped to initiate significant understanding of human-kind. Six years she’d spent with multi-racial crews. Had she made any difference? On the surface, maybe, but some days her heart longed to be known. She rose and stowed the book, murmuring, “Help me see the opportunities and find the right words.”

  Kena was half-way through her stretching routine when Jorlit arrived. He introduced himself, no doubt warned that she wouldn’t remember him.

  “Jorlit,” she said, following the Tenelli courtesy of repeating the name when introduced. “You lead second shift, do you not?”

  He grinned. “Yes. You’ve been doing your homework. Frethan will like that.”

  Kena returned his smile. It would’ve been hard not to, for the Tenelli smile stirred a homey feeling. His eyes, too. Coal black, but the whites showed at the corners—a trait found in few races. Only his wispy, buff-colored hair would make him stand out in a crowd of Humans. He wore it short, much like the down on some ducklings she’d adopted as a child.

  “How are you doing?” he asked.

  “Fine, except for feeling cooped up. Let’s get on with it.” Stepping into the hallway, she said, “Tell me, what’s been going on while I’ve been doing all this sleeping and resting?”

  “Our course is still clear, so not much actual navigating. Just standard routine—for being in slip, anyway. Simulations. Training for the junior navigators and anyone who’s upping their skill set. Oh, and Frethan told everyone to read up on Human culture. That’s one task you’ll get out of.”

  “Ha. Resident teacher.”

  Jorlit chuckled and turned down another hall. “If you want to do some teaching, let’s talk about course design.”

  “I do it much like everyone else—enter basic parameters, review the computer’s options, tweak them, and let the computer recalculate until I’ve got a good one.”

  “Like everyone else? Netlyn saw the same hazard you did and was working on a course revision, too. And she’s no rookie. How’d you pull it together that quick?”

  “I’d use the word intuition. There’s no Prednian translation. It means an innate knowing. I can simply tell which option will be best and which parts of it to alter, so there’s less time wasted on calculating alternatives. I’ve tried showing it to others, but it seems to be the one thing I can’t teach.”

  “Can all Humans do it that fast?”

  “Some. I can only assume it has to do with how we visualize non-standard dimensions.”

  “But—S4? Are you telling me, you can visualize the fourth spatial dimension?”

  “Well, conceptualize it.”

  Jorlit raised his eyebrows at her as they entered a lift. “If you say so,” he said, selecting a lower level. “We’ll start in the bay.”

  A moment later, they stepped across the blue marker of the bay’s primary shield. More blue lines intersected across the floor, showing where energy fields could be raised for sectional shielding.

  She climbed a flight of stairs to the walkway at level two, hoping a higher view might prompt her memory. The bay doors to her left locked out the vacuum. To her right, the high window of the external operations command room bulged out into the bay, providing a view of the entire floor. Two large craft occupied the center of the bay—they wouldn’t have been there when she arrived. Probably several others would have been at the space station as well. Nor would there have been so much activity. Technicians removed crew harnesses from the payload modules of the large craft. The gold-tinted hull of one of the navigation modules stood open for maintenance.

  Jorlit waited beside her, while she rested her hands on the railing and looked over the bay. Hope of recollection faded. Not a single thing struck a chord of memory. Oh, well. She took her time identifying craft and memorizing the positions of shields, anchors, and mounts. After a moment, she asked, “Which one did I come in?”

  He pointed to a single-pilot craft attached to the struts on the opposite wall. “That one—third level, second position.” He lowered his hand to point out a location on the bay floor. “I had you anchor down there when you arrived. You looked around the bay after you disembarked and then came up to ex op command.”

  Kena looked up to the broad window on the third level. Two navigators surveyed their domain from above, much as Jorlit would have during her arrival. “Let’s go up.”

  They rode another lift up a level. It opened directly into ex op command. Three low-profile consoles lined the window, positioned so they wouldn’t block the support navigators’ view. Hrndl and a junior navigator were on duty. Hrndl acknowledged Kena but continued to observe the other navigator as he fulfilled a request to lower one of the craft from its wall mount.

  The rear of the command room boasted its own 3-D display area. Not huge, but certainly large enough to cover the immediate vicinity. Nice. She was going to have a hard time returning to less well-equipped ships.

  “How do you like what you’ve seen so far?” Jorlit asked.

  Kena tilted her head as déjà vu nudged her. “I like it very much, indeed.”

  Jorlit’s grin returned.

  “Is that something we said when I arrived?”

  “Word for word. Do you remember the rest?”

  “Mm, no.”

  “None of it was really important,” Jorlit said. “Besides, I think I managed to annoy you, so I don’t mind you forgetting, at all.”

  “That seems unlikely. Are you sure?”

  “I wasn’t trying to,” he said. “I used the translation of a phrase from your language. I thought it was a compliment.”
<
br />   “What phrase?”

  The corners of his smile turned down. “I should have kept my mouth shut. I said, ‘Your fame precedes you.’ And you said, ‘How unfortunate.’ Is there something offensive about it?”

  Kena laughed. “Not really, but you can’t expect me to like that. Preconceptions are always misleading. I’d rather you know me, not just what you’ve heard about me. Or, least of all, what you’ve heard about Humans.”

  Behind Jorlit, Hrndl glanced sideways at Kena.

  “Well,” Jorlit said, “that’s all I can really give you for a memory tour. Do you want to see our simulation room?”

  “Of course.”

  When she entered the room, Frethan turned to the door and smiled. He even stood for their exchange of names—a nice mixture of Human and Tenelli courtesy. Small wonder he had a reputation of being well liked. He wouldn’t let her stay, though. Clearly, Metchell’s orders had weight.

  When Frethan visited Kena that afternoon, he relieved her boredom by taking her to the astro section, which contained the largest 3-D display in the Ontrevay. They were reviewing details of their course around the far side of the nebula, when Frethan paused to check a message. “Ghent will be here soon,” he said. “Are you all right with that?”

  “Quite.”

  Despite her assertion, Kena couldn’t avoid turning to look when Ghent entered. He acknowledged her from across the room but kept his distance. He conversed with a few scientists for about a quarter hour then left. Was his purpose to let her practice focusing on a task while he was present? A challenge indeed! She concentrated on Frethan’s words and the rich warmth of his voice, but even that couldn’t drive Ghent’s presence from her awareness.

  Frethan returned to Kena’s quarters again that evening. Somehow, they got off on a tangent, and Kena found herself answering dozens of questions about her past encounters with the PitKreelaundun.

  Ghent’s voice on the comm system interrupted, and Frethan’s eyes darted to the time display. He traced two quick circles in the air.

  Kena smiled. That would be the Tenelli gesture for time moving at double speed.

  “Better let me answer that.” He pressed the comm control and said, “Frethan here.”

  “Still?” Ghent said. “Just how much time do you need with her?”

  Frethan grinned. “Oh, she’s just such pleasant company, I can’t tear myself away. I suppose you want me to share her with you.”

  “I would appreciate it,” Ghent said.

  “I’ll walk with you,” Frethan said as they left her quarters. “There’s one other thing I wanted to mention.” He seemed to consider his words. “Many of us are delighted to have a Human navigator with us, particularly one with your reputation. But not everyone perceives the benefits so clearly.”

  Kena chuckled. “Frethan, how very diplomatic you are.”

  He grinned and, in typical Tenelli fashion, rested a hand against her back as they walked. “I fear you’ve encountered this before.”

  “Ah, yes. Once or twice.”

  “If it causes undue difficulties,” he said, “let me know.”

  They reached the door of Ghent’s consult room. Frethan parted from her with a warm smile as the door slid open. She stepped across the threshold.

  Chapter Six

  The room was empty, but Ghent’s emfrel pressed against Kena. Another door stood open on the opposite side, through which she glimpsed a slice of his private sitting room.

  While waiting for him, she studied the Plynteth images surrounding her. Three walls and the ceiling blended into a 3-D panorama. So strange that a room could feel this immense. She rested her hands on the railing, which heightened the illusion of standing on a balcony, overlooking a deep canyon. Even the absence of wind seemed odd. She’d seen pictures of Plynteth canyon walls, lined with dwellings, but they could never convey this vastness.

  Turning in a complete circle, Kena admired the towering palisades and openings of distant chasms. How would it feel to fly through this canyon? Swerving between rock formations that thrust their jagged peaks high above its fertile floor.

  Ghent’s emfrel filled the room, interrupting the daydream. She turned to face him.

  “What do you think of Plynteth?” he asked.

  “A stark, but majestic beauty.”

  He paused, resting a hand on the back of his chair. “I wonder how you would render it.”

  “Hmm.” She considered the walls again, pointing as she answered. “Perhaps with the color variations and rippling patterns in these areas. I have no idea how to portray the vastness, though. I’m really a much better navigator than artist.”

  “That is why you’re here, after all,” Ghent said. “If you intended to convey anything by that humming sound you made, you failed. Only Humans speak without opening their mouths.”

  She crimped the corners of her mouth. “Yes, I know. It’s innate and occasionally slips out. That particular hum merely indicated thoughtfulness and wasn’t necessary to my meaning.”

  Ghent nodded and asked, “Are you reasonably comfortable?”

  “I am.”

  “Good. The rest of this isn’t a social visit.”

  He sat in his big chair, and Kena approached the curved table, stopping directly across from him. Clasping her hands behind her back, she waited for him to speak.

  “Kena, there are twelve races on this ship. This creates significant challenges. Every member of the crew is expected to accommodate the customs of other races as much as possible. Sometimes that means foregoing natural behaviors. I assume you are aware of this.”

  “I am.”

  Ghent stared up at her. “One challenge is knowing what accommodations need to be made. That’s typically dealt with through education. You’ve studied other races extensively. How helpful do you find your studies when it comes to actual interaction?”

  “That depends a great deal on which race we’re talking about and who designed the educational material.”

  “Yes, it does,” Ghent said, drawing out the first and last words. “There are significant gaps in the material on some races, particularly on the Grfdn. How do you deal with such gaps?”

  “Usually through observation. Or simply by asking for clarification—if, that is, I’m fairly sure the question itself won’t cause offense.”

  “A reasonable approach,” he said. “Apparently, we must interrupt this subject. Why are you still standing?”

  Strange remark. Even stranger, his speech slowed and quickened, creating an odd cadence. “Because you haven’t asked me to sit,” she said.

  “I see.” His cadence grew more emphatic with every sentence. “I’m aware from my own studies that Humans have an intricate structure of customary courtesy. These customs vary depending on location, social status, age, and gender. If you are expecting anyone on this ship to memorize all these rules and determine which ones must be implemented for you, you will be very disappointed. Do you think you could deign to sit without waiting for the invitation you feel entitled to?”

  Kena’s eyes widened, and she slid into the nearest chair. “Certainly, sir, but you mistake my reason for standing. It’s merely a sign of respect for a superior officer.”

  “Really? Have you studied Plynteth customs at all?”

  “Yes.”

  Ghent rested his arms on the table. “What did you learn about our customs for standing and sitting?”

  “They weren’t mentioned.”

  “Precisely. We have no such custom, nor do we interpret standing as a sign of respect. I’ll be convinced of your respect by your responses to me, not by your body language.”

  “I see.” Not a good start! How to reverse the negative impression? “I am puzzled by a couple things. May I ask for clarification?”

  “You may.”

  “When you visited me this morning, why did you ask if you could sit down?”

  Ghent paused, leaning back in his chair. The odd cadence faded as he spoke. “Because I was concerne
d about being too close while you were still acclimating to my race. What was your interpretation?”

  “It seemed as though you felt an invitation was necessary. Which surprised me, since I’d found no reference to such a custom.”

  “Did you fill an apparent gap with observation?”

  Kena shook her head. “I don’t usually draw conclusions based on only one event, but it never occurred to me that you’d interpret my standing as a—a demand for courtesy.”

  He nodded. “What else puzzles you?”

  How much could she ask? “What does it indicate when you vary the rate of your speech?”

  A corner of Ghent’s mouth twisted down, and he let out a breath of a laugh. “It means I’m annoyed. From what racial perspectives did you study Plynteth?”

  “Plynteth and Dantokrellie.”

  “Neither will cover verbal emphasis. It’s as innate to a Plynteth as your hums are to you. Compared to Dantokrellie vocal changes, it’s too insignificant to be worthy of comment.” He looked aside at the canyon wall for an instant. “Try asking Frethan. He sometimes mentions my speech patterns and should be able to explain them. By the way, not all of my speech is common to Plynteth. I adopt other races’ verbal cues when I need to ensure my meaning is clear. Is anything else puzzling you?”

  Kena settled back in her chair. “Not right now.”

  “Then, we’ll return to the subject of Grfdn.” Ghent spread his hands wide on the table. “Have you interacted with any of them before?”

  “Several times, but never closely. They don’t seek Human friends.”

  “That’s an understatement! Fights commonly occur when Humans and Grfdn are on the same ship. Some captains tolerate such behavior. I do not. Is that clear?”

  Kena stared. “Are you suggesting that I might start a fight with a Grfdn?”

  “I wouldn’t have mentioned it unless it was a possibility,” Ghent said, his lips tight. “It’s well known that Humans are extremely competitive. One of your more common methods of developing teamwork is to engage in structured group fighting. Under certain circumstances, Grfdn fight amongst themselves, but they rarely fight with any race other than Humans. This strongly suggests Human instigation, so spare me the evasive incredulity and answer my last question.”