Diverse Similarity

by Sharon Rose

  Her mind cast around for something suitable. She had just listened to so many. Any of them would do, but somehow, that didn’t seem right. She needed something common that any Human could repeat. Why couldn’t she think of anything? Was she even awake enough to pilot a craft?

  The first line of an old song popped into her mind. She cleared her throat and began. “My eyes have seen the fury of the raging, vengeful horde.” Where did this come from? A melody first written for an old civil war, later reworded for the seven-year war that had engulfed Earth. And then, suddenly, she knew.

  Her gaze swung to VanDar as she sang the next line. “As they trampled dying brothers and released the dogs of war.”

  Civil war screamed from every nuance of his being. She smelled death. Images flashed in her mind as she sang. It wasn’t just VanDar’s hatred of the Frayunomen family. Streams of tension pulsed through the room. Those two men had contemplated assassination. And it wasn’t just here. That strange disparity between Freltenloe’s and TarKeen’s explanations of race came back to her.

  But these revelations did not change the fact that she was singing of war and death. Someday, they’d be able to translate the English words. Could she have picked anything worse? And yet, every eye—no, every sairit—was wholly fixed on her. Mesmerized.

  She couldn’t stop. Nor could she leave them with words of judgement.

  There was another verse, the last one. It held hope. She turned to Travannesal and sang it to him. “In the beauty of the dawning, grace and truth returned to us…” Could she remember the rest? Wait. Why was she doing this alone? She cast herself into her beloved’s embrace and turned the song to worship. The words flowed. She didn’t even know if they were the original, but they worked.

  The final notes echoed through the room, rich and strong, like the presence of her beloved. It was a pity no one else could sense that. Or had they, perhaps, felt something? They stared with mouths agape. Ghent wasn’t shocked, but even he seemed spellbound. She focused on Travannesal and waited.

  It took a full minute for him to find his voice, and even that sounded breathless. “That was…lovely beyond words. Can you…translate it?”

  Kena shook her head. “It’s figurative poetry, so it wouldn’t make sense. It’s remembered for historical reasons. People from my culture would likely be able to repeat at least part of it.” She hoped that was enough to prevent a future uproar.

  “Ah. Thank you, ma’am.” He couldn’t seem to say anything else.

  Kena turned to Pernanyen, whose mobile shoulders trembled with shuddering exhalations. Kena prepared within then squatted by her chair. “Reach for me.” A whispered invitation.

  Pernanyen’s quivering soon stilled in the comfort that Kena extended.

  I will return. Kena waited for her to accept that. You will show my memories to no one.

  Pernanyen returned those words as a solemn oath.

  Be at peace. Kena withdrew.

  The atmosphere had settled, and Travannesal stood waiting.

  Kena neared him. “Travannesal of Frayunomen, I request departure for Ghent and myself.”

  He inclined his head in formal acknowledgement. “Commander TarKeen, escort Captain Ghent and Kena Talgarth to their craft and arrange their departure. Ensure a clear course to the Ontrevay.”

  TarKeen inclined his head. “As you order, sir.”

  Ghent lifted himself to his feet. He didn’t bother with words, but managed to exchange that formal inclined head gesture with both Travannesal and Leonfir.

  Permission to leave—at last. Now, what surprises did the hallways and bay hold?

  Chapter Forty-Nine

  Kena and Ghent walked on either side of TarKeen through empty hallways. When they crossed the first intersection, she cast furtive glances to the side.

  TarKeen looked at her. “You are safe.”

  “I’m not so sure.”

  “I secured the route before the trial started,” he said. “You are safe.”

  So, he’d felt the need. “Is VanDar a threat?”

  “Probably not to either of you, but he’s being watched.”

  Ah, he felt the need for that, too. His words confirmed at least some of what she had perceived in the chamber.

  “How did you know,” TarKeen asked, “about VanDar being a member of a non-ruling family?”

  “I asked Pernanyen who he was when I linked with her.”

  “What else did she tell you?” he asked.

  “That hers is the last generation of her family to rule. Frayunomen will then become non-ruling, and Kell will again take their position as a ruling family. VanDar is older than her, so it won’t be him, but one of his children will probably be in the primary position.”

  “Did she tell you that if she dies young and Kell takes their position early, it will change the balance of power in the government?”

  “Not really,” Kena said, “but I saw an image of the cyclic diagram of ruling families. It’s not hard to see that the PitKree would become the majority if the cycle is advanced.”

  Ghent stumbled, and TarKeen gripped his arm. “Sir, do you need more assistance?”

  Ghent shook his head, but TarKeen maintained his grip as they continued walking.

  TarKeen, apparently, could not be distracted from his questions. “Did Pernanyen believe that VanDar wants her position?”

  “Not that I know of,” Kena said. “Remember, it wasn’t a forced link. She decided how much to reveal.”

  “How, then, did you…draw the conclusion that he seeks rule?”

  She sighed. “I can’t explain. It’s like I told you before.”

  TarKeen didn’t respond. She glanced sideways at him. His black eyebrows jutted low, and his lips were compressed. Should she tell him the rest? The knowing within herself insisted that she should. Must.

  “There’s something else, TarKeen. Can we be overheard or recorded here?”

  “We’re almost to the hold. We must go through the control room where a couple people are on duty. May I enter your craft?”

  “You may.”

  TarKeen looked toward Ghent, perhaps expecting confirmation from him, but Ghent didn’t even look up. His exhaustion called forth an answering yawn from Kena.

  In the control room, TarKeen motioned a crew member aside and used the controls himself.

  Only a few more steps took them past a doorway and blue lines. Kena put a hand out to touch their little craft—her chance to see home again. A long sigh slipped between her lips.

  TarKeen stooped to pick up her EVA belt, which lay near the hatch, and handed it to her. It prompted memory—the unnerving sensation of its removal, how it had slid down her hips and across her leg. How long ago, that seemed. She pressed the hatch release on the craft and stepped inside. TarKeen helped Ghent in and supported him until he was seated in one of the two couches.

  TarKeen turned to Kena in the small space, his hair brushing the ceiling. “What else?” he asked.

  “TarKeen, are you on the verge of civil war?”

  His entire face tightened, and his voice grated. “Why do you ask me that?”

  “Partly because…I feel that VanDar wants the Frayunomen family dead. Not just Pernanyen, but Travannesal, as well.”

  His nostrils shifted down.

  “But it’s more than that,” she said. “There is a tension I can’t describe between the PitKree and the Laundun. When I was singing, I had the impression that war was approaching—soon. Like an automated countdown that’s already started. It won’t stop on its own. Someone must abort it.”

  He stared into her eyes, his face rigid.

  “Have your races ever had a civil war, TarKeen?”

  He shook his head.

  “Mine has. Even if one side claims victory, both sides lose. They both pay a tremendous price. It brings only death and devastation. Families are destroyed. Bitterness rages for generations. If you love anyone at all, if you have any friends—either PitKree or Laundun—don’t let it
happen, TarKeen. Abort that countdown before it’s too late.”

  TarKeen’s gut twisted so tight, it hurt.

  If only he could link with her, to learn what she really knew and grasp the truth of it. He couldn’t, of course. Then, he sensed her presence surrounding him. Just a breath, it seemed.

  “I will not link,” she said, “but you may reach to feel me.”

  An invitation he could not refuse. He quivered at that touch—then it was gone. He reached out a hand to steady himself. No wonder Pernanyen had been shaken.

  TarKeen took a deep breath. “You must go.”

  Kena nodded. “It’s time. You have fulfilled your commitment to me. Thank you.”

  He inclined his head and stepped from the craft. The hatch closed behind him as he strode to the control room.

  Her words were balm. He had not fulfilled his commitment as originally intended; but, if she would thank him, then at least she recognized his attempt and determination. How she could, was a mystery. Their contacts had been so brief. Another indication of how much she knew that she couldn’t know. Civil war? Would it come to that? All the PitKree needed was a few ships and the right to seek a planet on their own…not control of the government.

  TarKeen gave orders and watched their execution from the control room, but his mind remained riveted on her words. Civil war? What if she was right? He could not let that become true!

  Kena secured the flight restraint around Ghent then strapped herself in. TarKeen’s voice over the comm channel gave her notice of the craft’s move into the receiving bay. False gravity slipped away. Zero G mirrored an internal release that washed through her mind. Her craft was ejected past the blue-lined walls into open space. She magnified the view until the Ontrevay filled the screen. Her home away from home. She looked over at Ghent.

  He stared at it, too, and let out a long breath.

  TarKeen said, “You are clear to engage primary drive. Safe travels.”

  Wow, a phrase Humans used. “Thank you. I’ll see you in the months to come.”

  The habits of a navigator kicked in. She reviewed the empty scan of the straight route to the Ontrevay and brought her craft’s drive online. She couldn’t program the course. Yes, this was definitely the stripped craft that Ghent had mentioned in one of the recorded messages.

  A welcome voice came over the comm channel. “Ghent or Kena, report status.”

  “Hi, Hrndl. Sure is sweet to hear your voice.”

  “I feel the same about yours. How are you, my dear?”

  “I’m okay,” Kena said. “Pretty tired, though.”

  “Beyond doubt. Ghent, how are you doing?”

  He didn’t answer. His eyes were closed, and his breathing slow.

  “He’s fine, but he just fell asleep.”

  “Not good,” Hrndl said. “He was supposed to pilot you home.”

  “Mm. I guess we’re on plan B.”

  “Can you pilot that craft?”

  “Yeah, what little there is.” As she spoke, Kena slid her hand over one of the console panels—it failed to illuminate. “Quite a bit seems to be missing.” She fiddled with an unusual device. “Oh, look at this. There’s a manual lock for the control sticks. High tech!”

  The comm system picked up Veet laughter in the background. The overdone sort that came from relief.

  Kena let out a yawn that wouldn’t be denied then asked, “Do you know what’s been happening on the Epri7?”

  “We’ve had multiple status reports,” Hrndl said, “and they gave us visual and audio of the trial.”

  “Good. I’m really not up for explanations at the moment.”

  “That’s fine.”

  Another yawn demanded release, so cavernous it felt like it would detach her jaw.

  “Was that a yawn?” Hrndl asked.

  “Yeah. You might want to talk to Metchell about how sleep deprivation affects Humans.”

  “I’ll do that,” Hrndl said. “Right now, we’re going to talk through shield levels, setting the burn duration on the primary drive, and locking down your controls.”

  “It’s like you think I might fall asleep or something.”

  “Yes, it is, isn’t it? Quon is on his way to meet you. He’ll capture your craft and take over navigation as soon as you rendezvous. Tell me what your shield levels read.”

  Kena talked through the details. Hrndl was clearly getting her set up to reach the Ontrevay, even if she was unconscious on arrival.

  “All right, Kena,” Hrndl said. “You’ll get here, and we’ll take care of everything else. Don’t change anything without talking to me first.”

  “Okay.”

  “Do you want to chat with me, or do you prefer quiet?”

  “Prefer music, actually. I’m gonna mute the channel.”

  “That’s fine.” Hrndl’s voice was so gentle. “If you’re awake, give me status reports. That way, I won’t have to interrupt a song. Even I know that’s rude.”

  The music alternately soothed and sustained Kena. The halfway point arrived sooner than it should have. Even though she had vague knowledge of a craft approaching, it seemed suddenly close. Quon’s and Hrndl’s voices were discussing capture of her powered craft. Why hadn’t they asked for her status? Or had they? Asleep while piloting. Pathetic. Time to show some sign of life.

  “Hi, Quon. You got to come back for me, after all.”

  “So I did, Kena.” Emotion deepened his voice. “How are you doing?”

  “Um…I’m awake.” An abrupt exhalation reached her ears. Was that suppressed laughter or disbelief?

  “How is Ghent?” Quon asked.

  Kena looked over at him. No change. “Still asleep.”

  Hrndl’s voice came over the comm channel. “Kena, I know it’s earlier than we planned, but I want you to shut down your primary drive.”

  Kena reached for the controls. “Am I doing that bad?”

  “You’re doing well, considering sleep deprivation. I had that conversation you suggested with Metchell. Consider this payback for the day you forced me to disembark before our mission was complete.”

  A tired smile pulled at Kena’s mouth. Interesting double meaning for the word payback. “Shutdown complete.”

  “Shutdown confirmed,” Quon said.

  “All right, Kena,” Hrndl said. “Quon has command now, and you are relieved. You don’t have to fight to stay awake anymore. Just go to sleep.”

  That went against all instinct, but Kena had no doubt her craft was secure.

  Her next realization was of the Ontrevay filling her window. Almost there. Longing and trepidation swirled to the surface. She desperately needed the touch of her own, yet she feared that emotions—theirs or hers—would plunge her into a sobbing meltdown. Hold me together, father.

  I am your strength. Your safety and peace in the storm.

  An unwelcome correlation surfaced from the tired, hurting side of her mind. He had comforted her when she was about to set herself adrift with Pearl. And then she had suffered agony. This comfort he offered her now—?

  Ghent uttered an audible breath and stirred.

  She glanced over at him. His expression changed from vague to alert in a couple seconds. How did he do that?

  He looked at the Ontrevay and then her. “This is a pleasant sight to wake up to.”

  “That, it is!”

  “I was trying to get a couple words out before sleep caught me. Well done, Kena!”

  She blinked. “I, uh, didn’t do much. Just laid there in a daze most of the time.”

  His eyes half closed then widened. “Kena, you have initiated friendship—with the PitKreelaundun!”

  “So have you,” she said, shrugging one shoulder. “With a lot less fuss, apparently.”

  He groaned. “Perhaps you are just despondent from exhaustion, but I’m not letting another moment pass with you thinking like this. Did you rescue and return an enemy’s child?”

  “Well, yes.”

  “Did your actions and wo
rds suggest to them that we are far different than they believed?”

  “I suppose.”

  “Did you preserve Pernanyen’s life?”

  Kena made a sound in her throat. “Sort of. She’s still in really grim circumstances.”

  “Did you, by chance, learn her language?”

  “Yeah.”

  “And you learned it telepathically during active dialog. I’m guessing you picked up a lot of cultural nuances. Am I right?”

  “Yes.” Really, it was impossible to deny the value of that.

  “You also gained enough influence with a primary member of government to negotiate safe passage for a supply vessel, and I’m guessing quite a bit more, besides.”

  “Mm.”

  “Even though you didn’t intend it, you brought about a meeting between captains of the PitKreelaundun and the Collaborative. Yes, I will take some credit for its success, but I wouldn’t have met him without your selfless and courageous actions.”

  Kena licked her lips and tried to figure out where to look.

  “And last, there is the part I have yet to understand. That seems more profound than the rest. Not only have you decreased the chances of the Collaborative going to war with them, it appears you may even be preventing a civil war among the PitKreelaundun.”

  Kena let out a breath. “Oh, I do hope so.”

  Silence hovered for a moment, then he reached over and swept a finger across her furrowed brow. “No more frowning. I can only guess at what it cost you, but even the good we’ve seen already is priceless. We’ll be recording the benefits of your last few days for years to come. You…have…done…well!”

  A little breath huffed between her lips. She managed a shaky smile. “Thank you, Ghent,” she whispered.

  Another success crossed her mind—one that would never occur to Ghent. The PitKreelaundun had grasped that Humans were not sairital beings—crucial if Humans were to deal with such an intrinsically telepathic race. Her beloved’s promise from days before whispered through her mind. Good had come in spite of Pernanyen’s horrific decision. Kena still had a hard time with part of it, but she drew on the strength and peace he promised her now. It moved within her, so tangible she could almost smell the sweetness of his spirit.