by Sharon Rose
VanDar addressed his reply to Travannesal. “I would spare her a decision that may not actually be open to her. It seems unlikely, based on her previous statements, that she is capable of fully controlling the link. She cannot even initiate it.”
ShenLee asked, “Pernanyen, when you linked with Kena this day, did you permit her to control after you initiated the link?”
“I did. Within an instant of forming the link, she was controlling. In a way, she was controlling even before. It’s…it’s very hard to describe…almost as though my action was necessary for me to realize the link, but not necessary for her.”
“An unconventional manner of initiating the link,” ShenLee said, “can hardly be deemed proof that Kena is not capable of control.”
VanDar didn’t let an instant pass. “Pernanyen’s statements cannot be considered. She has an obvious, all-compelling reason to persuade Kena to link with her.”
Kena tilted her head. “Do you not also have a compelling reason to prevent the link, VanDar of Kell?”
His shoulders jerked. He obviously hadn’t expected that.
“Do you not gain a position in government if Pernanyen is executed?” Kena asked. “Is that why you try to prevent my linking with her? So that the constrained link will never be complete, and her death will grant you authority?”
His chest heaved while she spoke, but he’d controlled it by the time she finished. Once again, his voice was calm. “That is not my reason. Any position I might gain could only commence many years in the future and is not even certain, for Travannesal is still in mid-life. I speak as an ordinary citizen—as VanDar only.” His smooth words sweetened even further. “It is for your protection that I speak on your behalf, to prevent further harm. That is my only motive. If Pernanyen is executed, justice will be served. You need not concern yourself with her.”
Nauseating! Kena could tolerate no more. “Justice? What you want is her death. You’re simply hoping justice will bring that death about. I went through agony to keep this woman alive, and now you seek to kill her.” Kena’s voice deepened with each word, reverberating through the chamber. “Do not claim that you speak on my behalf.”
His eyes held steady through a heartbeat. “As you wish, ma’am, but I still insist on justice.” He turned to Travannesal. “There is more to consider than initiation. Kena said Humans do not engage in forced links. Yet, that is exactly what she must do if she is to complete her side of the constrained link.”
Kena’s stomach turned. This very thought had tormented her sleepless days and nights—that she would somehow be coerced into this very link. Every fiber of both spirit and mind rejected even the idea of it. They weren’t really forcing her, of course. And yet, Pernanyen would be executed if Kena did not forcibly link with her. Why did she struggle with that? In a way, it shouldn’t matter. It wasn’t as though she was killing Pernanyen. The PitKreelaundun would carry out the execution according to their own law. But this was not…could not be her path. Father, show me!
I take no delight in judgement or the sacrifice of her life. My delight is in mercy. Mercy triumphs over judgement.
Someone else, a Laundun woman, was speaking at length, pointing out the goal of understanding and peace between the races. She asserted that Kena’s suffering would be in vain without completion and politely encouraged Kena to pursue the benefits of forcibly linking with Pernanyen.
Perhaps Kena’s face revealed her revulsion, for VanDar again launched a defense of her right to decline. How manipulative he was—as willing to control her with his words as Pernanyen had been to control her with telepathy.
Travannesal interrupted him. “Desist. Kena has rejected your advocacy. I will not have her further annoyed. You’re monopolizing the discussion. Restrict further comments to new arguments only.”
A wave of anger and hatred flowed from VanDar. Kena glanced around. No awareness registered on any face. She drew on her father’s love for strength. Must I see this? His power infused her, and the unwelcome feelings evaporated like mist in sunshine.
“Kena,” Travannesal said, “I don’t want you over-persuaded by any argument, either for or against completing the link. Part of the arguments in favor of doing so may no longer be significant, since Leonfir and Ghent have linked.” He turned to Leonfir. “Can you tolerate a superficial link?”
Leonfir nodded.
Travannesal went to him. Their link lasted only a moment. He moved away, saying, “Leonfir is convinced that Ghent knew nothing of the existence of tra-pentazine before coming here. As a captain, he would have been informed of such a substance if the Collaborative knew of it. Leonfir will share the reasons behind his belief with me after he has rested. It is probable that I will also find them convincing. Pernanyen sought this knowledge from Kena, but it no longer needs confirmation.”
Someone in the crowd said, “There is still a possibility that select individuals could know, while the majority do not.”
Kena rolled her eyes. Why were there always people so determined to hang onto their beliefs? “The only way to prove that no one knew is for you to personally link with all the billions of people in the Collaborative.” With a quick shake of her head, Kena said, “A rather burdensome form of proof, that. It’s hard to imagine any motive for concealing the knowledge. I assure you, navigators demand to be informed of all known risks. Captains, no doubt, have the same expectation. The fact that we would go to so much trouble to obtain and study the material, supports both that we didn’t know and that we very much want to know.”
“What you say is reasonable, ma’am,” the man replied, “but we still really only know what one person of one race believes. And, apparently, the Plynteth are barely active within the Collaborative.”
Pernanyen fidgeted. “Uh…with permission, I could…” She looked back and forth between Travannesal and Kena.
When Kena didn’t respond, Travannesal said, “You may speak, but remember, you may not state anything you learned from your link with Kena.”
“I…um…I think it would be obvious that I would have wanted to know the opinions of as many races as possible.”
Travannesal stopped Pernanyen with a gesture, his eyes fixed on Kena.
Her heart pounded as the memories surfaced. All those conversations Pernanyen had pried into. Heat suffused her face and hands. Impossible to keep her lips from trembling. “Are you all expecting to become privy to everything she…” Kena’s throat seized. No, she could not say it.
Travannesal softened his voice and gently emphasized each word. “We will know nothing that you do not permit us to know.”
Kena took a few calming breaths. “If Pernanyen lives…what will prevent others from accessing her memories of the constrained link?”
“The only way Pernanyen will live is if you constrain her to link,” Travannesal said. “During that link, you will have full access to her memory. Not only will you be able to see it, but you can restrict or even destroy memories. If she is to be executed, she will not be permitted to even speak of what she learned from you, much less link with anyone.”
“So, only I choose what is revealed?” Kena asked.
“That is correct.”
“I wish to ask her two questions that may be answered with yes, no, or I don’t know. Is that acceptable?”
“It is your choice,” Travannesal said.
“Pernanyen…” Kena paused to frame the question. “Based on all the knowledge you have of me, did I know of tra-pentazine before coming to investigate the shattered planets?”
“No.”
“Do I have any desire to harm any PitKreelaundun?”
Pernanyen seemed to search within herself. “No.”
Kena turned back to Travannesal. “Is that the crux of what you really want to confirm?”
“It is.” His voice was strained.
Finally, Kena sensed something from Travannesal. He had seemed emotionless. Now, she perceived his feelings, all gripped in tight control. But mourning slipp
ed out as if he despaired. Did he think she had asked those questions so Pernanyen could now be executed?
She murmured, “I did say any PitKreelaundun.”
Someone began to speak, but Travannesal stopped her when the gist became clear. “Nothing more will be said in persuasion. Kena will decide as appropriate for herself. Ma’am, do you have adequate information to make your decision?”
Did she? How could she bring this around to satisfy their sense of justice and still allow mercy? “Not really. I know my desire, that Pernanyen live. In this, my decision is made. But the practicalities are…problematic. The very nature of how I link is different from yours. If I cannot link in the same manner as she did, will you say that I have not fulfilled my side of the link?”
“We will allow for differences. The only requirement is that you completely control.”
“When I say ‘control the link’ it only means that I am controlling the interaction. It does not mean that I control what the other person chooses to reveal. Which do you mean?”
“The latter. Please remember, the goal is that you become as convinced of our intentions as she is of yours. She wants you to understand both our desire for peace and our need to protect ourselves.”
Kena licked her lips and swallowed. “I cannot forcibly extract from another person’s mind against their will.”
Pernanyen spoke in a voice as little as a child’s. “It would not be against my will. I permit it. In fact, I request it. I still really want…want you to know…” Her lips worked in silence.
She reminded Kena of Pearl. Orphaned, heart-broken, and desperate. It seemed odd that this was the same woman who had ruthlessly probed her mind. So strange that compassion and rage could coexist. She tried to envision searching through Pernanyen for those stolen memories and somehow restricting them. Tears filled her eyes. She didn’t even know how to do that. Could she bear to see them in Pernanyen’s mind? And on top of it all, exhaustion was overwhelming her. Kena put a hand over her mouth to cover a yawn that she could no longer suppress. Oh, Father, I’m a mess. I shouldn’t even be making a decision like this. Not in this state.
“Tomorrow,” Travannesal said. “Please don’t link with her today.”
“No, not today.” Kena said, her voice listless.
“Do not be concerned about how long you need to sleep. Take as much time as you need.”
He had no idea. Father, I don’t know what to do.
I know, my child. You will find counsel among your own. Rest. Heal. Then, return.
She became aware of conversation around her. They were already talking about taking her and Ghent to their craft. She held up a hand to stop the flow of words. “You don’t quite understand. Not today or tomorrow or even the next day. I need more time.”
Silence stretched.
“That’s a problem,” Travannesal said. “The PitKreelaundun cannot endure extended isolation. We need to link. I know most races can get by with just emfrel, but we cannot. We must link every four or five days, at the very least.”
Oh, would they ever quit coming up with objections? “So, link with her.”
“She is forbidden to do so until she completes the constrained link with you. It needs to happen soon.”
“You linked with her when you disowned her. I asked her about it.”
His head twitched back as surprise jerked another wave of mourning from his grip. So, disowning his daughter had cost him something, after all. He grieved over the separation as much as Pernanyen did. A price he would be paying for months to come. And now his daughter would pay it also. Kena did not want to return to find the woman wracked, perhaps maddened, by isolation and grief.
Travannesal cleared his throat. “True, but that was necessary to sever our bond. I saw nothing of her link with you.”
“This is also necessary. She kept you from seeing. You did not seek for the knowledge. If both of you could do that once, can you not do it many times over?”
“Yes, but…it isn’t truly necessary. You need more rest than normal, but a few days should be sufficient.”
Kena shook her head. “No, Travannesal. You don’t actually know what happened within me, and you don’t know what I need. I cannot link that deeply with Pernanyen until I have counsel from my own people. Your law guarantees me the right to complete the constrained link. This is the only way your law can be fulfilled. I need her to be healthy when I return.” She moved nearer as she spoke, holding his gaze.
The crowd held its breath, waiting for his words.
He looked down into her eyes for a long moment. “I will do as you ask.”
A wave of hatred, more putrid than the others, hit her. She quivered and swung her gaze to the side. Her father swept it from her, but she understood his reason for revealing it.
Travannesal’s gaze followed hers to VanDar.
She looked back up at him, held her lips as still as a Grfdn’s, and whispered, “You’re in danger.”
He responded with an infinitesimal nod.
She stepped back to the center again. “I want three-fold assurance from your authority triad that Pernanyen will be kept healthy, comfortable, and safe until I return.”
“I ensure it,” Travannesal said.
She turned to TarKeen.
“I ensure it,” he repeated.
She turned to Leonfir and said, “Are you able to understand and make a commitment?”
His eyes were heavy, but he nodded and said, “Ensure.”
Travannesal let out a long breath, his face somber. “I would appreciate an estimate of when you will return.”
“Yes, I suppose so.” Kena spoke her thoughts aloud, for calculating time was beyond her. “Assume about a month on Earth. Perhaps more. I’ll need time for the journey there and back. And you may recall that I am on a science mission. Ghent indicated to me, as best he could, that our collection of tra-pentazine cannot be left where it is or taken to the Collaborative’s area.”
A sigh floated through the gathering, and their relief lingered, echoing the sound.
Travannesal moved one foot back and bowed toward Kena then to Ghent in a fluid movement. “I extend our thanks on behalf of all PitKreelaundun.”
Some formal response was probably expected, but Kena only managed to incline her head. “I believe we must take the collection in the opposite direction, which will require more time.”
“Obviously,” Travannesal said, “I cannot object to that delay.”
“It will also take longer than we planned for the mission. We need provisions.”
“Is there something you want us to provide?”
“No,” Kena said. “It must come from the Collaborative. That means, we need communication and an access route.”
“I am hoping,” Travannesal said with measured emphasis, “that you are not asking to bring another gravity ship between the nebula and PitKreelaundun space.”
“No, a large craft will do.” She massaged the center of her forehead. “My guess is that you will have ships nearby.”
“We must reassess the area and neutralize any problems we find.”
Kena nodded. “Can you speak for your government? Can you guarantee safe passage?”
He gave her a long, steady look. “I can speak for the PitKreelaundun government. I will guarantee safe passage for a craft that is commanded by a Human or a Plynteth.”
“Hmm. It will most likely be a Human. Other races will be in the crew.” Her frown deepened. “I do not want direct contact between any of you and any Human until I return. And frankly, I’ve heard some rather untrusting talk from PitKreelaundun. What are the chances that these other ships’ captains will accept the commander’s assurance of being Human or Plynteth?”
Travannesal glanced at Ghent. “Make sure they can send a live image during communication. That should work for the Plynteth. The Prednian profile of Humans said that you resemble the Tenelli. Do you have any visible traits that we’ll be able to identify remotely?”
“N
o. In fact, be prepared for a great deal of variation in Humans. My skin tone is called white, but there are black skin tones as well, with many shades between.” His brows shot up and lips parted, but she refused to let him stop her. “The shape of eyes and other features vary, as well. Some males even have thick facial hair. I think you’ll have to rely on voice.”
He looked even more taken aback. “But…your voice is not particularly unique.”
“You haven’t heard it all yet. We have an alternate voice, one to speak with and one to sing with.”
“Sing? Please explain.”
Kena was beyond explanations. She opened her mouth and let a series of notes rise and fall.
Exclamations filled the chamber.
“Can any of the races you’ve contacted do that?” she asked.
His mouth moved a couple times before he got words out. “No! That was…beautiful!”
She was used to amazement over Human voice, but this was the first time she’d ever been complimented for singing a scale. “Can we use that to identify a Human?”
“Yes, I think so.”
She turned to Ghent. His face was sagging. She didn’t even want to try for a link. “Do we need anything else before we leave?”
He shook his head.
She took a deep breath. “Right. Travannesal, I’m about to request departure, and I only want to ask once. So, before I do, is there anything more to discuss?”
Seething reached her again from VanDar. Father, what is it? What are you trying to show me? In a way, she really didn’t want to know. She was just too tired to deal with it.
“Only one,” Travannesal said. “Would you be willing to sing again, so we may record it for identification? It’s just not possible to describe with words.”
Good point, actually. She’d given them so little, and her voice had cracked, besides. “Yes, I probably should. This won’t be the best, because I don’t have time to warm up my voice, but it’ll have to do.” He looked puzzled. Oh, well. “There are words and a melody in a song. No two people will sing it exactly the same.”