Diverse Similarity

by Sharon Rose

  They were so different. Much more so than they realized. No race but Humans wondered much about God. Others held a general assumption that some creating entity existed, but so few strived to describe him or to know him. No race mentioned an afterlife—at least not openly. Their deaths seemed so final and tragic. Krdn’s last moments had seemed not merely lonely, but a devastating isolation. How could they endure it?

  Kena’s beloved spoke within her. I did not abandon him.

  She sought for deeper answers. Does that mean they do have an afterlife?

  His assurance remained steadfast, but nothing more was added. When she stopped struggling to hear what he was not saying, the reason for his silence became clear. He was waiting to comfort her, not to speak of another.

  She settled more fully into his presence. She needed it. “As a deer pants for water, so my heart longs for you.” She quoted the words slowly, welcoming him nearer.

  Most of her people advised against a single Human living among non-Humans. For good reason. One’s own kind provided an intangible connection. Its absence could produce isolation stress, even for a person with strong alien friendships. Kena understood these warnings, even agreed with them. But she had also found the only way to relieve the isolation. It lay in the knowledge—the deep knowing and understanding—of her creator’s love for her. A rich mixture encompassing and surpassing a parent’s love, spouse’s love, any kind of Human love. It sustained her when far from home.

  She quoted words from her favorite Psalm. “If I ascend to the stars, you are there. If I ride the wings of the dawn into brilliant light, even there your hand guides me and your right hand supports me.”

  How wondrous that David, flowing with the Spirit of God, had penned such words thousands of years ago, so long before star travel was imagined. Before the nature of light and time were known. What more elegant way to describe her travels than riding the wings of the dawn? Even then you were thinking of me.

  I am.

  She savored his choice of words. Not I was. Not past tense. Rather, a statement that filled the past, present, and future. The fullness of time where he dwelled. The one who fills all in all. She rested in his presence.

  A faint awareness of Ghent penetrated her thoughts, along with a Grfdn. They neither approached nor withdrew. The message Ghent had left her—to contact him when she was awake and refreshed—needed to be answered. It felt like a summons, even though it contained no demand. What would his reaction be?

  Why ponder it when you can know it? Is there anything that I cannot turn to good for you?

  No point in arguing that. Kena reached for her computer.

  Ghent joined her a couple minutes later at the table in her sitting room. Kena inhaled the steam from her coffee and returned Ghent’s steady regard.

  “Have you ever been forced to leave a partner before, Kena?” he asked.

  “No.”

  “A disturbing experience.”

  “True.”

  Ghent’s fingertips brushed across the table in a slow arc. “I’m regretting bringing only one Human to the Ontrevay. It leaves you with no support during a difficult time. If there’s anything you need that I’m capable of providing, please tell me.”

  “Thank you,” Kena said, “but I need nothing. I assume you’ve investigated the event?”

  “As much as I can without talking to you. I’ve reviewed the scan, navigation, and communication records. I’ve talked with other navigators, particularly Jorlit. Is that what you mean?”

  She nodded. “I’d like to hear your observations.”

  “I would rather hear yours.”

  Kena swallowed and took a deep breath. “I did everything I could think of to find Krdn. When that failed, there was no choice left but to return.”

  Ghent leaned back in his chair. “You sound a little defensive. What have you heard from others who’ve had a partner die?”

  “From one extreme to another.” Kena flipped her hand from side to side. “I’ve heard of a senior navigator demoted all the way to junior, even though there was nothing he could have done to prevent the accident or save his partner. I’ve heard of another navigator who was demoted for risking his own life, even though he successfully rescued his partner. And I’ve even heard of a captain who didn’t bother to investigate the circumstances surrounding a death.”

  Ghent shook his head. “I am none of those captains. Were those navigators Human?”

  “Only one of them.”

  “Which one?”

  “The one who saved his partner’s life.”

  “I’m not surprised.” Ghent leaned forward, folding his forearms on the table. “One of the challenges on a multi-racial ship is to determine what is possible for a given race, or even a given person. Some captains use a single standard for everyone. I find that…unrealistic, to put it mildly. Instead, I expect every crew member to do what he or she is capable of. Not less, not more.

  “Your leadership, Kena, and your piloting were exemplary. Your recovery after collision was nothing short of astonishing. I cannot fault you for any of this.” He nodded to one side. “It’s possible that you stayed too long. Since you succeeded in returning, I cannot definitively fault you in this, either. Still, I know your tendency to push your limits. Please understand that I do not want them pushed so near to the point of death.”

  She ducked her head. “I understand.”

  “When you look away from me like that, I wonder if you infer more than I intended.”

  Kena lifted her eyes to his in question.

  “I am not reprimanding you. Nor do I want you second-guessing your decisions when you’re in the cockpit. I merely want you to understand that I value your safety as much as I value the safety of others.”

  “I see.”

  He gave his quick nod, like the ending of a paragraph. “There are still a few things I’d like to know, which only you can tell me.”

  “Such as?”

  “How did you know Krdn had turned his homing signal off?”

  “I didn’t.” She gave her head a little shake. “It was a guess. There was too much debris to find him by scanning. I needed another way. Voice was the only thing left to me. Frankly, I’m surprised he answered.”

  “Did you try to reach him telepathically?” Ghent asked.

  “There was no chance of that. It was much unlike my link with Frethan, if that’s what you’re thinking. Krdn could have been anywhere. I had felt Frethan before; he wasn’t shy with telepathy. But Krdn never so much as extended his awareness in my presence.” She lifted her shoulders. “I knew of no identity to search for. Nor would he have been able to recognize me.”

  “From comments you’ve made before, I understood that you always have awareness of those around you.”

  “I do, but it’s indistinct. I can differentiate non-Human races, but not individuals.” She tilted her head. “Do you think I should have been able to find him?”

  “No, but I’m wondering if you think so.”

  She shook her head. “I thought at first I’d be able to. The others were all moving in concurrent trajectories. But he wasn’t among them. I still don’t know why, or where he was.”

  “A lot of debris passed through the strike zone. Something must have hit him. We did eventually find the signal from his EVA belt. His location is beyond what you could have reached.”

  She nodded, staring into her coffee cup.

  “Kena, I was hoping you might be relieved to know that there really was nothing else you could have done for him.”

  “Mm. I suppose I already knew that, but thanks for the confirmation.”

  “If it’s not that,” Ghent asked, “what does trouble you?”

  It took her a moment to form the words. “To be so isolated. So completely alone. I’ve no idea how long he endured that, or even if…” She swallowed hard.

  Ghent answered what she was unable to ask. “The signal from his life support belt confirms that he died before oxygen depletion o
r field failure. There’re a lot of gaps in the reception, so we don’t know the exact time of death. Hrndl sent him a message, to which he replied. She believes he died by the sedation drug not long afterward. Probably less than an hour after your decision to leave.”

  Ghent’s percipience was a relief. He’d given her as much as she would ever be able to know. It would have to do. Only one part surprised her.

  “You’ve spoken with Hrndl?” Kena asked. “Already?”

  “No, with Dhgnr. She’s still in seclusion. Does knowing about Krdn comfort you at all?”

  “It helps.”

  “What do you need most, Kena—time to rest or something to do?”

  “Something to do. I’m certainly not expecting time off when we’re so short staffed, particularly with leadership.”

  “Good. Netlyn is spread too thin. Come.”

  “Join us,” Quon said to Kena.

  She turned from the buffet, about to follow. The sight of Frdn, alone at the Grfdn table, stopped her. “In a moment, perhaps.” She paused by the conspicuously bare table. “What will irritate you the least, Frdn, to eat alone or to eat with a Human?”

  He startled. “T-to eat with a Human, beyond doubt!”

  She slid into the chair across from him. He shifted, not meeting her eyes. Had he felt compelled to say the opposite of his true opinion?

  His voice tensed. “Have I done something that you object to?”

  Her hand stilled as she reached for her glass. “I’ve hardly seen you. What could I object to? Do I still have some Grfdn obligation that I’m unaware of?”

  “No,” he said. “I mean, you could—if I tried to interfere—but I won’t.”

  “That, I can easily believe of you. Thank you so much for relieving me of further duties.” She hoped her humorous inflection would ease him. The formal inclination of his head made that seem unlikely. “What disturbs you?” she asked.

  “Nothing. I am just…surprised that you would join me. You could sit anywhere.” A Prednian sauntered by, sucking a large piece of sopping fruit from his bowl as he walked. Frdn averted his gaze. “Almost anywhere.”

  “Ah! You see?” she murmured. “You would not condemn me to eat with him, and I will not condemn you to eat alone.”

  “It’s not the same.” He grasped a whitish piece of cooked vegetable in his tongs. “I am rejected.”

  “Hmm.” Kena tilted her head. “I think I would phrase that as you were not chosen. If she had picked Rnl in preference to you, then you’d have reason for humiliation. Her choice of Dhgnr does not reflect badly upon you.”

  “He only courted her for a day, whereas I could not win her favor in many days.”

  “It’s not as though she didn’t already know him well.” Kena sliced a strawberry. “He also spent her courtship period placing her needs above his own preferences.”

  Frdn stared. “Is that a trait Humans seek, or do you know that Grfdn females value it?”

  “Humans value it; I can see why a Grfdn would also. Every race should, though it may be more obvious to some than others.” Kena took a sip of water. “How old are you, Frdn?”

  He shifted again and frowned. “Younger than Hrndl. I know my courting her could be deemed presumptuous, but there were so few of us.”

  “Giving her a choice is not presumptuous,” Kena said. “That’s not what I meant. You will have other opportunities. Experience is nothing to disdain, even when acquiring it is unpleasant.”

  Again, he inclined his head, almost bowing.

  Dhgnr strode to their table with a stack of food containers. Frdn bowed and pushed back to leave.

  “Stay,” Dhgnr said, sitting down. “You may view me as khn rather than rival. Kena stated that your behavior was honorable, for which I commend you.”

  “Thank you.”

  Dhgnr turned to Kena. “I have no time to converse, but wish to know…is it well with you?”

  “All is well. How is Hrndl?”

  Both men sucked their breath in. Dhgnr drew back, his nostrils pinching.

  “What is this?” Kena asked. “Do I still stumble?”

  “The inquiry is rude,” Dhgnr said. “You imply it’s doubtful that I am caring for her.”

  “Such a thought would never occur to me.”

  Dhgnr paused. “Graceful recovery. What is the Human meaning of the question?”

  “Merely a courtesy toward someone I value.”

  His expression softened. “I cannot speak of her directly. Permit me to quote you. All is well.” He left with those words.

  Kena ate in pensive silence until Frdn broke it.

  “Do you realize that Dhgnr is not angry over your mistake?”

  “I think he was,” she said, “but chose to disregard it.”

  Seconds passed while he seemed to consider her. “You are…intrepid…in racial matters. It’s not the best word, but as close as I can get in Prednian.”

  “Thank you.” A smile hovered on her lips. “May I ask what prompted that?”

  “Most people get along with other races by avoiding known offences and maintaining some distance. Considerable distance from the Grfdn. But you came into our midst, in spite of all the pitfalls that would certainly trip you. What Dhgnr said is true: You are graceful. It preserves you when you stumble. But even so, I don’t understand how you succeed so well.”

  “I seek to know individuals, rather than races. I look for similarities, rather than differences.”

  Days crammed with activity rushed by Kena. Navigators ferried samples for scientists and stabilized the collection in the wake of an explosion. Much of the benzlium they’d collected was lost, but Netlyn had her eye on additional sources skirting the nebula. A good thing she’d found another source, considering how much energy their containment fields were sucking down.

  Hrndl emerged from seclusion and behaved as though nothing had happened.

  When Hrndl first walked into the astro section, Kena leaned close to Netlyn and whispered, “Have you seen that thing they wear when they’re carrying a fertilized ovum? Would we recognize it?”

  Netlyn’s eyes followed Hrndl for a moment. “She’s not wearing it.” She shook her head and kept her voice soft. “I didn’t think they’d fertilize the first one. It’s common for Grfdn to wait on children. And wouldn’t this be a terrible time?”

  Hrndl’s return to calm professionalism was a relief to Kena—and to others, if the looks they exchanged meant anything. Within a day, Ghent announced her promotion to chief navigator. No one was surprised when she appointed Netlyn as second navigator.

  The three senior navigators; Delf, Jorlit, and Kena, joined them for an end-of-shift meeting that Hrndl had instituted. A few other navigators stood nearby and joined in the light-hearted banter that spread from Kena’s exuberance.

  “We should have a celebration,” a Prednian said.

  “What for?” Hrndl asked.

  “Promotion, of course!” His round eyes lit up. “Say the word, and I’ll arrange it for you.”

  “Are you seriously expecting me to order some enormous celebration of myself?” Hrndl demanded.

  Kena laughed. “We could make it a little more general than that. Netlyn and Jorlit have been promoted, too. We have a new team. Is that not worth a little celebration?”

  Delf grinned. “What would we do to celebrate on Earth, Kena?”

  “The five of us would go out to dinner together.”

  “What does that mean?” the Prednian asked, leaning toward her.

  She held back a laugh. “We’d go to a restaurant and eat a fine meal.”

  The subject turned, and nothing more was said. However, the matter was apparently discussed elsewhere. Later, Ghent sent a message to Hrndl to have her next meeting in one of the common rooms.

  “Odd,” Hrndl murmured to Kena. “I suppose he must want to talk with us about something a little more privately.”

  The real reason for Ghent’s message became clear the next evening, when Kena and the ot
her navigators entered the designated room. They found a table spread with a white cloth, five place settings, and even a bowl of flowers. A soft instrumental played in the background. Delatin and one of his staff waited by a side table with covered dishes.

  “What’s all this?” Jorlit asked.

  “A Human-style dinner,” Delatin said. “I have prepared traditional cuisine suitable for each race, but will serve it in the Human style.” He turned to Kena. “I researched as best I could. I hope it’s at least close to what you are accustomed to.”

  Kena’s smile scrunched the corners of her eyes. “It’s really quite delightful. Come, sit down, my friends.”

  Delf eyed the bouquet with apparent concern. “Are these…edible?”

  Kena burst into laughter.

  Delatin replied with the reserve of an English butler. What had he researched? “They are for decorative purposes. It is called a center piece. A more common choice would be something called”—he paused to enunciate the English word—“candles. However, I’m unsure what they are made of, and they must be set on fire. I felt flowers would be a better choice.”

  “On fire?” Delf exclaimed.

  Kena’s laughter was no longer audible. Even her chair shook.

  “Enough of that, or Kena won’t be able to eat,” Hrndl said, controlling the mirth that glowed in her eyes.

  Delatin served suitable drinks for each race. Kena sipped hers and dabbed tears from her eyes. He set a plate before her, and she took up her napkin as she caught the scent of subtle herbs on the rising steam.

  “What is the little cloth for?” Netlyn asked.

  “Spread it across your lap to catch anything that may spill. You may wipe your fingers or lips on it. At the end of the meal, it’s folded again and placed on the table.”

  “Is there something special we should know about the utensils?” Hrndl asked. “I’ve noticed before that you lay your knife across the edge of your plate.”

  “Yes, once it’s been used. Also, the knife is never, ever put in the mouth. But don’t bother with all this Human etiquette. This is a celebration!”

  Hrndl’s eyes tilted up. “So it is. Yet, I will not miss this opportunity to learn your culture.”