Diverse Similarity

by Sharon Rose

  “I’ve seen Humans touch glasses together,” Delf said. “What does that mean?”

  Toasts followed, good food, and banter. By dessert, their camaraderie was all that Kena could have wished for on Earth. She and Delf were the only two off duty after dinner. He escorted her on an energetic walk around one of the hallways that ringed the circumference of the ship.

  Later, Kena stretched out in bed. “Thank you, my beloved,” she murmured. “You are all I need, yet you bless me even more with friends and touches of home.” His sweet affection surrounded her in the darkness. He would be with her when she woke and on the excursion planned for morning.

  Chapter Thirty-One

  Kena frowned. No matter how she tried, she couldn’t make sense of the anomaly within the nebula.

  At least their primary mission was complete. The benzlium had been scattered and challenging to collect. Worse yet, one of the three craft with her was having trouble with its primary drive. In spite of all the problems, they’d gathered enough benzlium to call it a success.

  She knit her brow. Still one science task left. With the benzlium collected, they’d have no reason to venture this far from the Ontrevay again, and Piert would be disappointed, to put it mildly, if she didn’t bring him information on whatever lurked within the gas cloud. For that matter, she would be, too. These energy signatures did not belong together under any circumstances. They defied explanation.

  “It doesn’t make sense,” Quon said. “What could possibly behave that way?”

  “Nothing.” Which was exactly why she wanted to see it. Kena let out an audible breath and responded to a status update from the damaged craft.

  She missed Hrndl in the other couch, but Quon was skillful and quick with short-range course design. She could leave local activities to him while she focused on the other craft and plotted their return course.

  Quon glanced at her plan. “What? Aren’t we going for a look at Piert’s anomaly?

  A question that still plagued her. “We’ve got a craft on the verge of failure. It may require towing at any moment. With all that benzlium to drag, I can’t send them back to the Ontrevay without at least two craft for escort. That leaves no support for us.”

  Kena pressed the comm control and said, “Elna, run a diagnostic on the extended fields and make sure you’re not losing energy there.”

  A few minutes passed before she answered. “Extended fields are stable, Kena. It’s only the primary drive that’s draining power.”

  “I’ve got it!” Quon exclaimed, his smile as big as Delf’s, but not so lopsided.

  “Got what?”

  “An aperture. Won’t take that long to reach the opening. We’ll be able to scan uninhibited. Here, take a look.” He pointed at the display, his long arm extending past the console. “If we swing around through here, the route is completely clear.”

  “Hmm. Nice choice,” Kena said, “but we still don’t have a support craft.”

  “We don’t need one with risk factors that low. We won’t be any more than twenty minutes behind the others, in case we get desperate—which won’t happen.”

  Kena feigned an uncertain tone. “I take it, you’re game for this?”

  He rose to her bait. “Game for it? We have to! We’ll be kicking ourselves forever if we don’t go see what that is.”

  She chuckled and sent their course plan to the Ontrevay. “Oh, fine then. If you insist.”

  Kena gave final instructions to the other craft then closed the comm channel. She grinned at Quon and said, “Initiate course.”

  Twenty minutes later, Quon reversed thrust and synchronized motion with the gap in the thick, dusty cloud.

  “Now then, what have we here?” Kena magnified the image and sucked in a breath.

  “Thias! It’s a craft!”

  “Comm silence,” Kena ordered. “Scan broad range.”

  She studied the cluster of spinning objects in orbit around an irregular, high-density rock. Rather than a single item, they had been scanning several, which eclipsed one another. But it was the one unnatural object that now consumed all of her attention.

  It emitted a faint energy signal. Was that even enough to maintain life support in a craft of its size? She targeted her scans to the craft and increased visual magnification. Just as she feared. “It’s PitKreelaundun,” Kena said, her tone grim. “At least it’s not fully powered.”

  The craft was larger than any the Ontrevay carried. What was the purpose for all that space? A hold? Living quarters? They were a long way from any planet.

  “Are you picking up any other ships?” she asked.

  “Nope. No unnatural matter or energy at all.”

  “Keep looking,” she ordered.

  “Oh, believe me, I will!”

  The craft gradually turned as it orbited, revealing another side—and the reason its power was so low. Twisted, scarred metal gaped open.

  “It’s severely damaged,” she said. “The primary drive will never fire again.”

  “Guess we won’t have to worry about outrunning it.”

  “Why does it have any power at all?” Kena murmured.

  “It would’ve had reserves. Must have happened recently.”

  “But it’s not transmitting any comm signal—not even automated distress. What’s the very last system to remain active when power is near failure?”

  “Life support.” Quon’s voice sharpened. “What are you thinking?”

  “That I want a closer scan. Stay on long range. If you see even the slightest oddity, I want to know on the instant.” Kena took over piloting and brought her craft through the aperture.

  Quon uttered a disbelieving laugh. “Is there anything you wouldn’t dare?”

  “Approaching a dead ship isn’t the most daring act of my life.”

  “What if it’s not as dead as it looks?”

  “It hasn’t even scanned. At this range, we would know.” After reconfiguring her own scan, she followed a precise gap in the hull. She kept her next words slow and soft. “There’s a shield still active within the craft.” She fell silent.

  “Kena?”

  She couldn’t answer. Her telepathic search was too intense, for she didn’t actually know what she was looking for. Seconds slipped by. Her breath caught. “Someone’s alive. Distraught.”

  Quon gasped. “Don’t tell me you linked with him!”

  “No. He—or she—didn’t sense me.”

  “Then, how do you—Oh, never mind that. What are you going to do?”

  Kena cut thrusters and let her craft drift nearer. She laid a couple fingers against her mouth as she frowned at the disabled hulk. “Quon, can you bring us in, match orbit with that craft, and hold position?”

  “Sure, but—”

  “I don’t want a casual ‘Sure.’” She released her restraints as she spoke. “Take a good look at that orbit and spin. I need to know for certain you can maintain a stable position.” She pushed back and glided through the aft section. She grabbed a handhold near the airlock and detached one of the EVA belts. A quick twist and kick brought her to his side again. “Can you do it?”

  “Yes.” His gaze rested on the EVA belt in her hand. His tone flattened—more statement than question. “You’re going outside.”

  “I am.”

  “How will you get through the craft’s energy shield without breaking the seal?”

  “Back in the days when they and the PitKreelaundun were tentative friends, the Prednians gave them our shielding technology. There’s a good possibility my life support shield will merge with theirs. I won’t know unless I try.”

  “What if there’s more than one?” he asked. “What if they attack you?”

  “There’s only one. I think I sensed a child.”

  “That doesn’t make any sense.”

  “I know,” she said, “but that was my impression. What’s your entry and exit plan?”

  Kena watched from within the airlock as Quon positioned them between orbiting
bodies, giving her a safe route to the other craft.

  “Position is stable, and the area is clear,” he said.

  She opened the external airlock door. EVA nav jets carried her across the gap and through the rent hull. Her light revealed a grisly sight as its beam moved through the wreckage. Blood spattered the inner hull. A tethered body floated, the shoulder sliced open. Male, if she judged his size correctly.

  She grabbed a twisted bar and propelled herself through an open doorway. A dead shield-ring surrounded it, marked in blue just as they were on Collaborative ships. Promising. She passed a compartment full of unfamiliar equipment and another dead shield. Living quarters came next. Across the dark chamber, her light reached into the nav section. The pilot was strapped into a couch, which had swung around to face the living quarters. Golden brown hair floated around a face frozen in anguish. The body was smaller than the other. Female, no doubt.

  Kena averted her eyes from the haunting face and focused on sleeping compartments outlined in blue. She had never seen so many separate shields in a single craft. These PitKreelaundun must have known they were in dangerous territory. Only one of the shield rings glowed. She moved closer and directed her light within the compartment.

  A child squinted at her, cringing from the light but desperate to see.

  Quon’s voice spoke in her ear. “I sure would like to hear more than your breath, Kena. What’s going on?”

  “Sorry. Two adult corpses and a living child.” She tapped her shield controls as she spoke. “I’m through the shield.”

  The child thrashed in its sleep harness and stretched out trembling arms.

  Kena’s shield blocked the sound of the child’s cries, but the damp, sobbing face told her everything. She opened the soiled harness.

  The child grabbed for her, then jerked back from the unnatural shield. Its mouth opened wide in a frantic wail.

  Kena tore open supply containers and grabbed a cloth that floated out. She wrapped it twice around the squirming child and drew it tight against her left side. A few touches to her controls, and her shield enclosed the child.

  Kena clamped her teeth and endured the child’s raspy wail.

  “Tell me that’s not you, Kena,” Quon’s voice said.

  “You may want to turn the volume down for a bit.” She grabbed at some floating clothes and headed aft. “I’m on my way out. Shush, baby. Sh-shush.”

  The child’s cry subsided to a whimper, its squirming to shaking. Kena doubted that had much to do with her soothing voice. This baby was too weak to maintain exertion. By the time they passed through the airlock, the child made no sound except rapid, hoarse breathing.

  Kena deactivated her shield in the aft section. “Take us out, Quon. A smooth ride, please, until I can get this baby cleaned up.”

  “Whew! That can’t happen soon enough.”

  “At least you weren’t trapped inside a shield with this smell.”

  Kena stripped off the child’s filthy clothes and did what she could with water and a rag. All the while, the little—girl?— clutched at Kena’s arm, trying to pull close to her again. Kena dressed her in mismatched pants and a shirt that looked much like a miniature robe. She looked around in vain for a place to safely secure a child. The baby found her own spot: arms around Kena’s neck, legs gripping her sides. Kena rubbed her back and took her into the cockpit.

  “Shouldn’t you put it in a restraint somewhere?” Quon asked.

  “See if you can peel her off me. I’d say her emotional need is more critical than a personal safety restraint.”

  “Her?”

  “That’s my guess. Not that I’ve ever seen pictures of PitKreelaundun anatomy.”

  “It’s as good a guess as any, until Metchell examines her. How old do you suppose she is?”

  Kena positioned her lap belt and pulled part of a sleep restraint around to hold the child against her chest. “By Human measurement, I’d guess about a year-and-a-half.”

  Quon gradually increased acceleration, turning their course back toward the Ontrevay. “Poor little orphan. She doesn’t even have a name.”

  Kena looked over the long-range scans. Still clear. “That’s easy to take care of.” She cupped her hand against a little damp cheek. The child gazed up at her. What striking eyes she had. No white showed. Wide, brown irises generously flecked with gold. Her skin was the color of dark honey, her hair nearly white. “Pearl. Your name is Pearl.”

  Quon gave her a quizzical look. “If you say so. What are your plans for Pearl’s future?”

  “I haven’t quite reached the point of mapping out her entire life.” Kena snapped open her water bottle and squeezed a few drops into Pearl’s mouth. The child quickly proved she knew how to drink in zero G.

  “Are you sure that’s a good idea?” Quon asked.

  Kena took the water away, despite Pearl’s protest. “No, but I’ll only give her a little at a time. I’m sure she’s dehydrated, and we’re hours from the Ontrevay, especially with this gradual acceleration.”

  “Do you want me to pick it up?”

  “Better not,” Kena said. “I don’t know what she can—” A spark of light pierced the void on the display. “Oh, no! Shut everything down. Drift.”

  They both jabbed at controls. Even the cockpit went dark. Only a faint reddish glow from the console illuminated their faces.

  A dimensional rift was forming. The spark expanded into a tunnel-like diagram of the invisible dimensional features. Perfectly symmetrical, as only an artificial rift could be. It opened and disgorged a ship.

  Kena shut down the scanning field, a silent prayer forming in her mind.

  Quon’s voice was hushed. “We aren’t going to look like a piece of debris if they run a detailed scan, Kena.”

  “I know, but I’ll take any hope or time I can get. Quiet, now.”

  A hundred thoughts raced through her mind, even faster than her pulse. What do I do?

  The eternal voice within resonated with the strength and love of a perfect father. Rest.

  Her lips twitched. How typical that her father would tell her to rest in the midst of disaster. She took a deep breath then let it out. And then another.

  “Right. Here’s the plan,” she said. “The first part, anyway. Most important, do not make a sound if I have to talk with them. I want them believing I’m alone in this craft. Be ready to bring everything back on line. Start with communication and scanning. Wait for my signals.”

  “If we’re going to have any chance of outrunning them, we need a head start.”

  “I know. A bigger head start than we have right now. Stay calm, Quon.”

  “Yeah, I get it. Do you want to record a message for the Ontrevay?”

  “The PitKreelaundun won’t permit a signal through. Their communication technology is really quite brilliant.”

  “How do you know?” Quon asked.

  “I’ve been near them. I’ve also studied what little information was gathered before they freaked out and started hating us.”

  “I didn’t even know they were ever friendly.”

  “Neutral may be a better word,” Kena said. “The Prednians were friendly. Hard to know the PitKreelaundun views.”

  Their receiving sensors picked up a scan sweep.

  “Time’s up,” Quon said, his voice grim.

  Within seconds, a harsh PitKreelaundun voice spoke over the comm system in heavily accented Prednian. “Identify yourself.”

  Chapter Thirty-Two

  “Get me comm and scan, Quon.” Kena ordered. “Keep quiet.”

  She waited a few seconds before opening her comm channel, so she could see what she was dealing with. The scan revealed an enormous cylinder, which Quon magnified. It was slowing, but still on fast approach and heading straight for her. No escort craft—yet.

  “My name is Kena Talgarth.” She kept her voice slow and calm, hoping to buy time.

  “What race?”

  “Human.”

  “What are you doin
g here?” the voice demanded. “You’re violating the treaty.”

  “I’m on a science mission. Primarily, I’m investigating matter and energy phenomena we have never before witnessed. At present, I was investigating an anomaly within the nebula. Like you, I’m aware of the borders specified in the treaty. We both know I am not violating it.”

  “You must have, in order to get here.”

  “Assumptions are so rarely accurate,” Kena said. “What brings you here?”

  “It is not your prerogative to question me.”

  Was he trying to intimidate her? She kept her tone mild. “That’s a pity,” she said. “Conversation will serve us so much better than demands. I have information that might interest you. I’m willing to participate in a peaceful exchange. If you want to threaten, I’ll be off now.”

  “You can’t possibly outrun us.”

  She chuckled. “True. Forgive me if this sounds arrogant, but I am considered a skillful pilot. Follow me into the nebula if you like. Or you can keep a reasonable distance, and we can talk. What brings you so far from home?”

  Distant voices in another language drifted over the speakers. Kena waited. The ship’s reverse thrust engaged.

  A softer voice spoke, without the heavy accent. “I am Pernanyen of Frayunomen. Please forgive my colleague. We are concerned about some friends who have ceased communicating. It is…disturbing to find an enemy craft so near their last known location.”

  “I am not your enemy,” Kena said. “I am Human. We are not at war with you. I would be happy to demonstrate our peaceful intent.”

  The ship’s approach continued to slow, but she suspected she might already be in weapon range. Kena played her first card.

  “About an hour ago, I found a damaged craft while investigating the anomaly I mentioned. If you follow my trail back, you’ll see an aperture in the dust cloud where you can get a clear scan. The ship was already severely damaged when I found it.”

  The man spoke again. “We have located your trail. It leads all the way to our missing craft. We will soon know how it was damaged and what you did there.” Even as he spoke, a craft exited from the end of the cylinder.