by Sharon Rose
When he said as much, Opyera grinned. “The vocals are still clear, but if you don’t recognize them, what chance do the PitKreelaundun have? There’s no need to mention this contains words.”
Inewin shook his head. “It’s not good enough.” His eyes remained fixed on his computer. “It’ll take them a while, but they’ll eventually find correlations between the two transmissions. We won’t get past that without destroying the music.”
“We can’t transmit,” Frdn said. “We need to use hard storage with only audio output. If they access the music any other way, the files will be destroyed.”
“How will we design and test that in a reasonable amount of time?” Opyera asked.
“Destroying files is easy. Humans use audio units all the time, and they encrypt everything. We already have the synthesizer specs. Using such a unit will be second nature to Kena.”
“We still have a big problem,” Inewin said. “There’s no way to get a physical device to her.”
“You may leave that problem to us,” Ghent said. “Get it ready.” He turned to the door, but stopped at the sound of another transmission from the Epri7.
“Captain Leonfir requests to meet, alone, with Captain Ghent alone.”
“Interesting grammar,” one of the technicians murmured.
“Give it a moment,” Ghent said, “then tell him I’ll meet with him in five minutes. Hrndl, nav command. Remlishos, with me.”
The visual communication room was only a few paces down the hall. The moment the door slid shut, Ghent said, “This will likely be about the message from Earth.”
“I expect so.”
“That may place some pressure on them. We’ll have to see if we can make use of this. It’s time I formalize your position.” He used his computer as he spoke. “You are hereby promoted to primary officer.”
Remlishos also extended his computer to enter the necessary acceptance and promotion of Dhgnr to chief engineer. “I can’t even thank you, for it means you intend to leave the ship. I’ve never imagined being this unhappy about a promotion.”
A faint smile touched Ghent’s lips for the first time in days. “I’m not surprised. If all goes well, I’ll return. You will be endlessly bored.”
“I can tolerate that far better than losing you as well as Kena. I still advise that you send one of the navigators. They are willing, after all.”
“True. It would be a viable option, if only we had a way in and out of the Epri7.”
“I don’t see why you would consider any other option.”
Ghent gave some thought to his answer. “To some degree, it’s because I would like to meet these people. Granted, it would be too brief, so that’s a trivial reason. More significantly, most navigators know someone who has been attacked or even killed by a PitKreelaundun. Including Quon, by the way. Not the best choice, if negotiation skills are needed. But we have yet to find the opportunity to send anyone. In the meantime, get familiar with Hrndl’s suggestions for maneuvers and get that craft—Ah, I have a habit to break. Inform Dhgnr of his new responsibilities and tell him I want that craft ready.”
Leonfir’s image appeared on the screen as Remlishos turned to leave.
Chapter Forty-Three
Ghent nodded at Leonfir’s formal greeting. “Why alone?” he asked.
“It seems that more voices only create more tension,” Leonfir said. “Somehow, we must begin to establish trust. Let us speak of a new subject.”
“Such as?”
“The Ontrevay received a substantial communication. I’m told that it was from Earth.”
So, they could pinpoint the source. “Yes. Have you given the content to Kena?”
Leonfir’s full lips curved. “What an interesting way to ask whether we have a conversion algorithm. We do not. If you would like to translate it to common format and send it to us, I will certainly give it to her.”
“I must give you the obvious response: No.”
“Hardly a surprise, since it appears to be designed specifically to bypass our communication block.”
“Unlikely,” Ghent said. “I believe Humans were using this format before they were aware that the PitKreelaundun existed.”
“So, the message is pure coincidence, then?”
“That is also unlikely. It’s from Kena’s father, with instructions that it be given to her immediately.”
Leonfir’s eyes widened. “If you’re willing to give it to me verbally, I will convey it to her.”
“I cannot translate it. I suspect that only a Human can comprehend the message’s significance. It’s music.”
“Music?” Leonfir’s voice seemed to contain even more surprise than Ghent had experienced.
“Indeed. Music is more pervasive among Humans than any other race we know. It seems to have a purpose we don’t comprehend. I can only assume her father believes she has need of it. And that makes me wonder what he knows.” Ghent studied Leonfir’s expression and dared to hope that he was concerned.
Leonfir’s words slowed, as though his thoughts traveled elsewhere. “An interesting race. And such an intriguing woman. We had hoped to learn from her. It grieves us that she is injured.”
“Us? Not very many of you, I gather.”
“Yes, many. Why do you doubt that?”
“I see no indication of it,” Ghent said. “Rialmerray, for instance. He’s never mentioned Kena, but he so clearly hates the rest of us. Why would he feel any differently toward her?”
Leonfir stared long at Ghent. “Rialmerray has dedicated his entire life to protecting others, many of whom are not even PitKreelaundun, but other races we protect. Some don’t believe they’re at risk. One primitive race doesn’t even know we exist. Yet Rialmerray, and other protectors like him, continuously redirect tra-pentazine away from their planets. They monitor and stabilize the ejection arms of the nebula. And after your gravity ships pass and destabilize them, they go back and do it all again. He will do it many more times, because there does not seem to be a way to convince the Collaborative to stop putting every system in our space at ever greater risk.”
His shoulders had taken on the swaying motion that seemed to come with long speeches. Ghent made no attempt to interrupt—hardly possible anyway, since Leonfir didn’t pause for breath.
“When we discovered, Ghent, that there was a member of the Collaborative who actually cared about a PitKreelaundun life…” Leonfir shook his head. “I cannot begin to describe how stunned we were. If one such person exists, perhaps there are others like her. Rialmerray admires Kena. He perceives her as one who protects others. Yes, he is saddened that she’s injured. And disappointed, as well. If we had a chance to know Kena, maybe we could get her to understand what the Collaborative is doing to us. Maybe we could find others like her. If your own people could help persuade the rest of you, maybe someday you would stop scattering the tra-pentazine along our border.”
Ghent gave the air a moment to clear. “We have no desire to place any of you at risk. I studied the treaty negotiation records. Never once does it mention why you did not want our ships near the debris in the ejection arms.”
“It was so obvious.” Leonfir’s hand rose and fell. “I know…you’ll say it wasn’t to the Collaborative, because tra-pentazine was unknown. We find it hard to believe that it could be plentiful in our domain, but non-existent in yours. I would like to believe you’re telling me the truth, but too many lives hang in the balance. I must know the truth of your words.”
“Now we are aware of it. The more knowledge we gain, the easier it will be to avoid redirecting the debris into your space.”
“Again, I would like to believe that the Collaborative would use this knowledge to protect us. But I don’t know if that’s true, either. The alarmists within this ship are appalled that we have given you any information about tra-pentazine. They believe you will weaponize it and use it against us.”
“I’m familiar with the concern.” Ghent rested his forearms on the table’s edge
and leaned on them. “Please do not take this amiss. Objects have often been redirected toward Collaborative ships. We had no way to know the extreme effect of gravity on a substance that we’d never identified. Many in the Collaborative believe that disguised weapons are placed and directed in order to damage our ships. Even now, it could be speculated that tra-pentazine is strategically placed.”
Leonfir shook his head. “Review the locations where your ships have been hit. Always near high concentrations. There would be no purpose in adding tra-pentazine, even if we had the technology to do it.”
“You freely express your distrust of us. Do you, then, expect me to trust your statements?”
“Not…at…all.” Leonfir swung his head back and forth with each word. “Distrust is mutual. It feeds on itself, ever growing. It contaminates every conversation, even this one. Pernanyen sought to interrupt the cycle. Two individuals, both determined to seek peace. It could have worked if they’d had time to know one another.” Regret crossed his features. “Instead, the very woman we placed our hopes on was injured while under our care. Pernanyen can no longer act. I would make the same attempt that she did, but two people are required. I’ve yet to discover anyone else on the Ontrevay who is willing to seek peace.”
Ghent leaned back and spread his hands on the table. “We all want peace, Leonfir. I wish I could persuade you to approach this in terms acceptable to the Collaborative.”
“That has never worked before, but what do you have in mind?”
“One step at a time. Return Kena.”
“Even that is a challenge.” Leonfir shifted to one side. “Kena sent her craft away, I assume, to keep our eyes from your technology. I’m no more willing to share our technology than you are to share yours. TarKeen made it clear immediately that we would not provide her with transport. Nor will we eject her into the void. How do you plan to overcome this dilemma, Ghent?”
“We’ve prepared a craft with only rudimentary technology. That obstacle has been removed.”
“So, you intend to send someone for her?” Leonfir asked.
“I do,” Ghent said. “All that is required of you is to bring Kena to the craft and let it depart. There is no risk to you.”
A tight smile stretched Leonfir’s lips. “And then you will return to the Collaborative, where all will expound on our horrible treatment of Kena—injuring her after she rescued a PitKreelaundun child and returned her to us. Tensions at the border will greatly increase. There is much risk to us. Forgive me, Ghent, but I see no value in ‘terms acceptable to the Collaborative.’”
Ghent suppressed a sigh. How could he reach this man? “What alternative do you propose?”
“No more distant communication. Come and meet with me face-to-face, Ghent. To be clear, I do not suggest a few minutes only. I mean a day or more. I want candid conversation, without recording, without wondering how others will interpret our words. You and Kena will then return to the Ontrevay.”
Ghent looked into Leonfir’s eyes on the screen. He had at least one thing in common with this alien captain. He hoped that his words were true, but he needed to know. “This reminds me of Kena’s first conversation with TarKeen. The risk is entirely on my side.”
Leonfir nodded. “I, too, perceive the similarity. Naturally, we do not want the same outcome as with Kena.” He rested his palms together. “I’ve had extensive conversations with the most experienced doctors on the Epri7. We have information on the Plynteth race, both physical and sairital. You are far more compatible with PitKreelaundun than Humans are. Every one of these doctors assures me that you are not at risk of injury among us.”
“Did they think Kena was at risk?”
“They were not consulted, although Freltenloe did warn Pernanyen. We are now very much aware of the gap in our knowledge of Humans. That same gap does not exist with the Plynteth. We have the specifications of your emfrel. One of our doctors has even acclimated to your race in order to confirm our understanding. If you would like additional information for your own medical staff, we will provide it.”
“It’s not sairital risk that concerns me, Leonfir. Forgive me for questioning your integrity, but I have no certainty that you will permit either Kena or me to leave. As with TarKeen and Pernanyen, you give me only words. Will you grant me a more tangible gesture?”
“What do you desire?”
“That our ships change relative position,” Ghent said.
Leonfir paused. “I still feel that it’s wise to maintain adequate distance, beyond weapon range.”
“Agreed, so long as you do not attempt to return to PitKreelaundun space.” Ghent traced an arc on the table. “The Ontrevay will swing around the Epri7 and take up position between you and your own domain. You need only to rotate your ship in order to keep your receiving bay within our view. In case the implication is not clear, Remlishos will have my orders to attack if you attempt to leave with Kena and me on board.”
Leonfir passed that off with a jerk of his head. “We will not leave with you on board. The Ontrevay may take the position you’ve described when you are ready to come to us.”
Ghent ordered Remlishos to arrange final details. Within minutes, Leonfir followed suit, ensuring that TarKeen conversed with Remlishos. The two men maintained efficient, amicable relations. Ghent completed his trip to the Epri7 without incident. The course was simple; he had only to enter the receiving bay. The PitKreelaundun crew performed the actual docking procedure, bringing his craft to rest within a pressurized hold.
Leonfir met him as he disembarked. “Welcome to the Epri7, sir. It is a great pleasure to meet you directly.”
Ghent took in Leonfir’s smiling face. His honey-colored skin and gold-lined, brown eyes were a striking combination. Ghent returned the smile, which he didn’t really trust. Having come, he had no choice but to assume the best until proven otherwise. “It also pleases me to meet you.” He hoped this would end the courtesies.
“Come,” Leonfir said. “Let us not waste the little time we have.”
Ghent stepped over the blue markings on the floor and walked with him toward a door. The hold contained little. Tubes and cables were anchored to a wall. Metal lattice doors secured servicing equipment. Two of the walls sloped together as they neared the ceiling, which was really the hold’s door to the receiving bay. The hum of field activation caused Ghent to glance over his shoulder. An energy field ringed his craft. “Is there a reason for that?”
“TarKeen has command of the ship while I am with you. I told him no one was to approach your craft. That’s his method of ensuring my order is fulfilled.”
“What’s to stop someone from deactivating it?”
Leonfir raised his eyebrows. “If TarKeen did not bind the controls to his or my order, I would be very surprised.”
The door slid open at their approach, revealing a small control room.
Beside a woman seated at the console, TarKeen stood tall and dark, with the serious face Ghent found hard to read. His voice revealed no more than his expression. “Sir, I’ve informed Remlishos that you have disembarked and joined Leonfir. He told me of the music device you’ve brought for Kena. I can take it to her.”
“I would rather give it to her myself.”
“We must talk first,” Leonfir said. “It cannot wait.”
Not what he wanted, but not surprising, either. Ghent pulled the device from his belt and handed it to TarKeen.
He turned it over, inspecting it. “Will she know how to use this?”
Ghent nodded. “It’s designed by her race. I should mention that Humans are fanatical about encryption. If you try to access the files, they’ll be destroyed.”
TarKeen inclined his head. “I’ll deliver it to her at once.”
They left the control room, the two PitKreelaundun flanking Ghent until TarKeen turned down an intersecting hallway. Plants filled alcoves in the corridor. Ghent counted them, memorizing the route.
Leonfir escorted Ghent to a room where rich fabri
c decorated walls, couches, and chairs. “These quarters are yours while you’re here.”
TarKeen strode into the observation room, where Shannandi was again on duty. One of the many screens displayed the camera feed. Kena sat in the recliner.
“Is there any change?” he asked.
“Nothing significant.”
“I’m going to give her a music device that her captain brought for her. Let me know how she responds to it.”
A few steps took him into Kena’s room. She did not react.
“The Ontrevay has received a message for you,” he said. “They tell us it contains music that was sent by your father.”
Her brows twitched.
“They put it on a device, which has been delivered to us.”
He held it above her hands, which lay limp on her thighs. One turned to take it from him. It was the first movement she had initiated in days. So much for the theory that she’d lost the ability to comprehend language.
With trembling fingers, she touched a button. Music flowed, gentle, lifting. Her face changed with the sound. More instruments joined the first in complexities inexplicable to his ears. He watched her chest heave as her breath quickened. The pathetic sagging of her face morphed into rapt attention. Her parted lips almost reached a smile.
Relief swelled within him. What was in these sounds that stirred her so? It didn’t really matter, though—it had worked. Silently, he turned to leave.
“Tar-Keen.”
Her weak voice arrested him as surely as a containment field would have. In an instant, he squatted by her recliner, bringing his eyes level with hers. “What do you desire?”
Her lips struggled with the word. “P-privacy.”
Disappointing, but at least she had spoken. “I will leave you…and tell others not to enter. Is that what you’re asking for?”
She nodded but frowned. Her lips still worked.
“I can wait. What else do you desire?”
Her thumb brought the music to a whisper. Her eyes roamed the walls and ceiling, fixing on the camera above her bed. “No…watch. No…listen.”