Diverse Similarity

by Sharon Rose

  All Kena could get out of Freltenloe were calm non-answers. “Do not speak now. Rest.” He wouldn’t let her get two words into a sentence. Her first opportunity to speak came when he said, “I’m finished with the scan, but I want to record a sample of your emfrel so Pernanyen can be acclimated.”

  “I’m Human. We don’t project emfrel.”

  “Pernanyen will still encounter it when she links with you. A brief sample will be adequate.”

  “There is nothing more I can give you,” Kena said. “The sooner you realize that I am not like other races, the better.”

  “I’ll record it later,” he said. “You may get up. I want motion scans next.”

  “Please let me explain.”

  He ignored her. Instead, he described the next scanning device, again having Shannandi demonstrate. She walked back and forth within a framework structure the size of a short hallway.

  “Go in, please,” he said to Kena.

  At least it delayed the inevitable. And yet, another step closer.

  A black-haired man entered as Kena walked. He went to Freltenloe’s side, where he stood by the scanner’s console. As soon as he spoke, Kena recognized TarKeen’s voice.

  “I passed DrenVid on his way to his quarters,” TarKeen said. “He had the audacity to demand that I override your orders. I confirmed them.”

  “Do you know the details?” Freltenloe asked.

  “I do. FarNon showed me his memory. Let me know when you’ve had time to submit your charge. I want to endorse it.”

  Freltenloe nodded. “Have you spoken with Pernanyen?”

  TarKeen’s voice dipped and slowed. “I have.”

  “I take it, you were no more successful than I. Did you wake the captain?”

  “She forbade it before I even met with her. Our golden girl is not stupid, in spite of her appalling absence of wisdom. It makes little difference whether I wake Leonfir. She will not listen to him either.”

  “Kena, stop there and turn around.” Freltenloe asked for a few more motions. “That will do. I’d like to see any other movements that come naturally to you.”

  Nothing with agility or speed for you! She lifted her hands overhead then slowly lowered them to her sides. It was the calming start and end of her exercise routine. One more attempt to still her mind.

  Her beloved directed her attention to the two men. They seemed so dissimilar.

  What was it? True, the physical differences seemed more pronounced than in the photos she had seen, but why did that matter? Her own race accustomed her to far greater variations. But the feeling of significance lingered. Enough of this scanning. She left the framework and approached the two men.

  “I am TarKeen.”

  She nodded. His hair was as black as the void, thick, and a little shaggy—as though it grew no longer than ten centimeters or so and had never met a blade. His eyebrows matched his hair, and his brown skin seemed more substantial than Freltenloe’s—like the difference between suede and cotton.

  “I have recorded my objection,” he said, “to Pernanyen’s decision to keep you here after your request to depart. I’m sure you realize, by now, that will change nothing.”

  She looked back and forth between the two men. “Are you the same race?”

  Both men shifted backward. Whatever they may have expected her to say, that was not it.

  Freltenloe replied. “We are both PitKreelaundun.”

  TarKeen gave him a look impossible for Kena to interpret. “That’s the answer you will always hear from his race. I will answer that I am PitKree and he is Laundun. We share the same planet and government…and to a degree, the same culture. Jointly, we are called PitKreelaundun.”

  Why was this not published anywhere? There was no point in asking them. Instead, she asked, “What does golden girl signify?”

  “Young and inexperienced. The Laundun have white hair at birth, like Jennellee’s.” TarKeen nodded toward Freltenloe’s dark brown hair. “It darkens as they age. Golden hair is only found on very young adults.”

  “I see.” Was there some way that she could get TarKeen to prevent what she dreaded?

  “Come here and sit down, Kena,” Freltenloe said. “I want to get a blood sample.”

  She lingered by TarKeen, but he must have noticed her delay. He followed Freltenloe to the side of the room. “Ma’am, I came here to ask you something that may be of importance.” He motioned toward the chair.

  He wasn’t going to continue until she sat. Would his question be useful? Her stomach clenched so tight, it made lowering herself into the chair awkward.

  Shannandi came near with supplies. They quickly prepped Kena’s arm, and the area went numb.

  “What question?” she asked TarKeen.

  “You said you were investigating phenomena never before seen. What, precisely?”

  “Two planets used to orbit the nearest star. They broke up. No one knows why. Someone had a telescope trained on them, so we know there wasn’t a collision.”

  His brow gathered, and he used the same rising tone Pernanyen had. “No one knows why?”

  Kena shook her head. “No. We’ve gathered some samples of matter from them, but there hasn’t been much time to study it yet. It’s unstable, which makes study harder.”

  He just looked at her.

  “Don’t you understand the imperative to learn the cause?” she asked. “Something that can break up entire planets. Have you no interest?”

  “We already know what causes it,” TarKeen said. “This is not the first time it’s happened. There are a few remnants of such breakups in PitKreelaundun space.” He paused and his words slowed. “The last was a few hundred years ago. A planet in our own system. PitKreel, by name.”

  She sucked in a breath. Her words came out in a whisper. “Your planet?”

  He nodded. “That is why we share a planet, now named PitKreelaundun.”

  Kena closed her eyes as a shudder ran through her body.

  TarKeen regarded her intently. “I can see why Pernanyen is intrigued.” He left without waiting for a reply.

  Kena glanced down at her left arm. Two tubes had been inserted. Shannandi detached a blood sample from one and capped it. Freltenloe wrapped Kena’s arm, perhaps guessing that she would pull the tubes out, given the opportunity. Control of her body was slipping away. Soon their emfrel would disrupt her ability to think. And then, what would Pernanyen do?

  “You do not have any comprehension of what you’re about to do,” Kena said. “I am not like other races.”

  He ignored her yet again.

  Shannandi tried a soothing tone. “Don’t be alarmed. Freltenloe has a great deal of experience in studying alien races. He knows what to watch for during acclimation: both how to protect you and how to be sure it’s effective.”

  “I’m less concerned about acclimation than about the link Pernanyen intends.”

  Shannandi drew back and blinked several times. “Oh! You needn’t be. She is skillful. I’m sure she has no intent to harm you.”

  “Intentions mean nothing. It’s ignorance that worries me. I must control the link.”

  “You will have that opportunity,” she said, sweetly reassuring.

  Kena ground her teeth. She licked her lips and tried again. “Throughout the entire link.”

  “Tha—”

  “Shannandi.” Freltenloe pointed at the display behind Kena. “Have you noticed yet that your responses do not calm her? The reverse, in fact. Stop responding.” He switched languages and added a sentence.

  Shannandi reached for something on the counter. They stood on either side of Kena, now. Harder to watch. Freltenloe wrapped something around her upper arm.

  “What are you doing?”

  “One last test. It won’t take long.”

  Her bicep relaxed—without her permission.

  At Shannandi’s touch, Kena jerked her right arm away.

  This distraction must have been what Freltenloe intended. He pressed something again
st the base of her neck.

  Kena’s muscles released, beyond her control. Her body slumped in the chair.

  “It will only last a few minutes,” he said. “I’m just relieving you of the decision whether to fight me or walk into the next room.”

  She could only watch. How purposeful their motions were. He lifted her body, which seemed to be a foreign thing under someone else’s control. Her pulse hammered in her head as he carried her to another room.

  “Raise the table,” Freltenloe said. He positioned her limp body. “Support her neck.”

  His simple dispassionate statements increased her sense of vulnerability. Kena couldn’t even shudder.

  Their words switched to their own language. They removed the temporary emfrel shield and fit something more elaborate over her head. A network of bands. Shannandi gently pulled Kena’s hair through the gaps, so the device fit snug to her scalp, all the way from the base of her skull to her eyebrows.

  Freltenloe wrapped a restraint around her waist. An energy field anchored her elbows to it.

  A muscle quivered in her arm. She tried moving her fingers, but got only a sluggish response.

  It seemed strange how little the PitKreelaundun said to her while they worked. None of the repetitive descriptions she was used to. Would she lose memory? Would they even tell her when it was time to start her relaxation technique?

  “You have muscle control again,” Freltenloe said. “Use it.”

  What a strange thing to say. “Why?”

  He secured an IV tube to her arm. “You’re under minimal restraint. Just enough to keep you on the table. I’ve activated fields around the sides. Explore how far you can move.”

  It seemed pointless, but she moved enough to touch the walls of her transparent cage. “Will you at lea—” Then it struck. A cry forced its way through her constricted throat.

  Acclimation emfrel always felt like an engulfing wave. This was like a firehose spray twisted down to narrow focus. Staccato bursts. Pause. Repeat. Beating one place, then another, and another. Cycling back through them again. And again.

  She writhed, dragging her head along the padded table to dislodge the cap from her scalp. Futile. She curled up, straining her head toward her hands. The restraint held them a centimeter apart. Panting breath forced spit through her clenched teeth. “What’re you…doing?”

  “Rapid acclimation.”

  “This…isn’t…accli…mation!”

  “The doses are high, so it must be administered in small areas. Your shield is responding. The acclimation is highly effective.”

  “Stop!”

  Her scream met silence.

  She threw herself against the side field and tried to bring her legs up to kick through. They wouldn’t respond correctly. Every burst of emfrel made her jerk and falter.

  Her stomach revolted. Vomit spewed out.

  The emfrel stopped.

  Her damp cheek rested on the table, her hair tangled and wet. A suction tube cleaned up her vomit. She was shaking and crying. Hot. Cold. Shuddering. Shannandi wiped her face.

  “Kena, some motion is useful,” Freltenloe said. “It prevents disorientation, but too much could harm you. I’m increasing restraint a little. It’s not possible for you to break through the fields. Move, but do not fight.”

  The extreme doses of emfrel resumed. On and on, endless. Her body thrashed. Pernanyen’s words echoed in her mind. He’ll have you acclimated within a day. A day? Not a whole day!

  Pauses were few. Once to remove the lower half of her nav suit and clean her. She hadn’t been aware of losing control. Even the feeling of humiliation was beyond her. Another pause to wipe away bloody froth from her mouth and restrain her jaw. Her tongue hurt, like all her muscles. She was allowed less and less space to move. The agony continued. Interminable.

  Chapter Thirty-Six

  Ghent sat with his officers in the visual communication room. Not the most convenient place to meet. The chairs all stood along one side of the curved table, facing the blank view screen. There was space for pacing, though, and some officers took advantage of this.

  Hours had passed, too many of them in silence. After Pernanyen’s last message, the PitKreelaundun would not even acknowledge communications from the Ontrevay.

  Several officers continued to study the old Prednian profile of the PitKreelaundun race. That, along with records of the treaty negotiations, which had been brief and clearly inadequate. They’d even sifted the information Quon brought back.

  Ghent rubbed a shurg back and forth over his knuckles. In all this study, nothing of value emerged. He could devise no method to extract Kena from the Epri7. He couldn’t even communicate with the PitKreelaundun—or anyone else.

  Ghent stretched and relaxed his tight shoulders, then touched the control console. PitKreelaundun communications replayed while the officers listened, searching for any hint they could use to reestablish a dialog.

  In the recording, TarKeen’s voice gave Kena the countdown she requested. He made a few more statements; first that Pearl had been given to Gwillenin, and later that Kena and Pernanyen were conversing. The replay reached the last message. Pernanyen had recorded a formal statement, both visual and audio.

  She sat at a table with her hands laid one atop the other. In the background, a textured column and arch motif framed her. Was this décor or an emblem of authority? Her amber eyes seemed to look into Ghent’s from the screen.

  Her voice, smooth and calm, flowed in rehearsed cadence. “I am Pernanyen of Frayunomen of PitKreelaundun, addressing Ghent, captain of the Ontrevay, of the Interstellar Collaborative. I wish to reassure you that my commitment to Kena Talgarth of Earth will be honored. Kena will be returned to you safely. I have enjoyed conversing with her and wish to continue. To ensure that she is not harmed, we are acclimating her to our emfrel.”

  Ghent’s shurgs tightened around his fists while Pernanyen’s voice purred on.

  “As I’m sure you know, this will take some time. I understand you may have inferred from earlier conversations that Kena would return to you within minutes of giving Pearl to Gwillenin. When I gave my commitment, I did not realize such a brief time constraint would be applied. This is an example of the miscommunications that so often mar interactions between our races. We long to find a way to alleviate this recurring problem. This may be possible through Kena.

  “Such a rare opportunity should not be passed over, even though it causes inconvenience or concern. Please grant me your patience. Perhaps you would like an estimate of duration. Though it is difficult to predict the exact time, I would expect her to stay with us approximately three days.”

  Much longer than Kena had intended. Of that, he was certain.

  “Until I have opportunity to learn from Kena,” Pernanyen said, “I would prefer to avoid communications that are all too likely to produce confusion. Again, I assure you, we will provide every possible care to Kena and return her to you safely.”

  Silence followed the end of the recording. Ghent broke it. “I would like to hear suggestions.”

  More silence.

  Remlishos finally spoke. “When Kena couldn’t communicate with us directly, she convinced them to send us a recording of past conversations. They followed that by transmitting communication for a time. We could ask for more recordings.”

  “You don’t look like you have high expectations of success,” Ghent said.

  “I don’t. I still suspect that something went wrong after she arrived. Otherwise, they would have continued communication.”

  “Knowing Kena’s interest in culture,” Hrndl said, swiveling her chair toward Ghent, “it’s conceivable that she would agree to stay for a few days, perhaps even agree to acclimation. However, she would’ve tried to tell us. If she did agree, they would have already sent that recording. If she refused, they won’t let us hear it.”

  Metchell paced. “The acclimation procedure should have been completed hours ago. Maybe they wouldn’t want to reveal her condi
tion under a high-stress acclimation; but, by now, she should be recovering.” He faced Ghent, resting his hands on the table. “Perhaps we could ask for a feed of her vital signs. It would tell us whether she is asleep or awake, calm or stressed.”

  “How easy is that to fake?” Ghent asked.

  “Unless they have actual Human medical records, a convincing fake would be difficult.”

  Ghent looked up at him. “I would far rather hear Kena’s voice than her heartbeat.”

  Metchell straightened. “Much as I hate to defend their silence, it’s possible that Kena is still sleeping after the acclimation. Letting her sleep would indicate that they’re taking appropriate care of her.”

  “The challenge, then,” Ghent said, “is how to word this request for non-verbal information into a message that prompts them to converse.”

  TarKeen entered the small waiting room where Pernanyen paced. Her fingers gripped one another and twisted, as though fighting an endless battle.

  “It is advisable to rest before a stressful link,” he said.

  She flipped her hands apart. “I slept. This is taking so long. I can’t sleep the whole time.”

  “Was your acclimation to Human emfrel stressful?”

  She glared at him. “You know it wasn’t. Her emfrel is so insubstantial, I didn’t even need acclimation.”

  “Convenient for you.”

  “But not for her? Is that what you really mean? With emfrel that simple, she’s bound to have a terrible time acclimating to us.”

  “You must have realized this when you first met her. Why so disturbed now?”

  Pernanyen looked down as her fingers resumed their battle. “I checked on her a while ago.” She drew an unsteady breath. “A mistake, perhaps. I’ve never heard of anyone needing so much physical intervention. She’s braced everywhere—even her mouth! They’ve put in a breathing tube and—and others. I can’t imagine what they’re all for.”

  Was she going to make this disaster even worse? “Are you reconsidering your decision?” TarKeen asked.