Diverse Demands

by Sharon Rose

  Metchell’s soothing pitch grew softer. “You’re already doing it. Keep him hydrated and resting. No local food. I’ll bring everything else he needs.”

  She wiped sweat from her forehead, trying not to feel let down. After all, what could Metchell do at this distance?

  Ghent returned and said, “Kena, I’ve reviewed your full report. I want to convey a message to Turglund. How does he react to you conversing with your computer?”

  “Now, he stares at my computer in addition to staring at me. He caught his name when you said it. I should link with him soon.”

  “I’ll wait for you.”

  Kena linked with Turglund, much like she had earlier, though quicker to initiate this time. Her communication with the Ontrevay crew was easy to convey. She discovered that, in earlier times, his people had been able to speak over distances through devices that no longer functioned.

  She brought her image of Ghent to the forefront and said, “Ghent wants to greet you.” She opened the comm channel again and said, “Ghent, I’m linked with Turglund. I’ll convey the meaning as you speak Prednian.”

  “Turglund,” Ghent said, “I greet you as a friend.”

  Turglund paused for a moment, then said, “Ghent, I welcome you as a friend.”

  Kena smiled and translated to Prednian.

  Ghent spoke again. “I hope to soon meet you on Dur. Among friends, we often trade what we possess. In this way, all are enriched with the things they need. Kena has told me that you need food. We will learn of your people and your plants so that we may offer suitable food. Together, we will help ensure you have enough to eat in the future.”

  Turglund withdrew from the link, though not before Kena sensed emotion welling. His eyelids batted, and his breath shuddered. Vinzlet leaned nearer, and the two other natives sputtered words. Kena caught enough of his answer to know that he was telling them of offered food. Tears sprang to her eyes as she whispered to her computer. “Pausing for an emotional response. The link broke, but I caught a hint of overwhelming relief.”

  Turglund said his word for linking. She eased into it again and translated Turglund’s answer to Ghent. “Kena says you need fuel. Though we must learn too, we offer you the fuel in the plateau.”

  “I accept your offer,” Ghent said. “How many people dwell in your community?”

  “There are 1,254 people in 336 families.”

  Kena translated the answer and added, “He knows exactly, because of their strict food rationing. The word I translated to people is Erondur. That’s the closest thing I’ve heard to a race name.”

  “Good. Tell him I must now arrange for our arrival, and that I need to talk with just you for a while.”

  Kena conveyed the message, then said, “I’ve ended the link.”

  “Stand by, Kena. Rest.”

  She drew from within. The space of a deep breath was enough to refresh her, for the presence of her beloved flooded her awareness as her mind and spirit connection normalized. She spent the moments with him, considering the unfolding events with growing awe.

  Ghent’s voice brought her attention back to the problems. “Kena, are you ready to converse?”

  “Yes. It was just a surface link and language-centric. Their need is quite urgent. I can’t overstate their desperation. How are we going to provide for that many, fast enough?”

  Ghent paused before answering. “We have staff skilled in resource conversion, exobiology, multi-racial medicine, and even a chef who can make almost anything palatable.” He emphasized his next sentence. “None of that is your concern.”

  “Ah.”

  “Your tasks are to take care of Antony, first-contact relations, and a navigational duty that I hope you can do during the calm of the night. We sent you detailed instructions. Did you receive them?”

  She tapped her computer a couple times. “Yes.”

  “Look them over. We’ll stand by for questions.”

  She skimmed through instructions. Succinct and organized. “Okay. I get the plan. This all makes sense. I’d like a 3-D rendering of the environs when I contact you this evening.”

  “We’ll get if for you. Do you foresee any problems with the Erondur?”

  “I doubt it. Communication works, and they are, uh, highly motivated. I’m just worried about…delays.” Kena brushed hair out of her face. “I almost hate to ask this, but have you heard anything else from the PitKreelaundun?”

  “Briefly. The primary member of a PitKree ruling family, NorGah of Pont, is en route to the Epri7. He must have already been on his way before your request. Do you know anything about him?”

  “No.” Kena drew the word out. Was this good news or bad?

  “Don’t let that bother you,” Ghent said. “Jenarsig has not contacted us again, but if he does, I will not connect you with him. I know your goals and will support—I should say, enforce—them. Don’t worry about that, either.”

  Reasonable advice. Besides, the delay that worried her the most…there was nothing more that anyone on the Ontrevay could do for Antony. “Okay. I’ll talk to you when Dur’s evening reaches me.”

  Kena hooked her computer on her belt and gestured to the passage. “Will you lead me to Antony?”

  Her injured hand objected to every grip as she descended the steep slope between Vinzlet and Turglund. She supported it while they traversed passages.

  When she reached the chamber where Antony lay, Kena hurried to his side.

  His frown eased a little when his eyes met hers. “Did you make contact?”

  Kena nodded and gestured to her guides. “They took me up to an opening that overlooks the plain. The storm is ferocious. I doubt I could make it to the craft and back.” She peeled off her nav shirt with some help from Vinzlet. “But there’s good news. The Ontrevay received my report, and I was able to talk with them live.”

  “Wha’d they say?” Already, his eyebrows bunched again.

  She related the conversation and general plans. If only it had eased his expression. “The important thing is that they know you’re hurt and we’re in this cave. They’ll get us help just as quick as they can.”

  “Not today, though.”

  She drew a deep breath. “No, but we have safe shelter. Dhgnr knows everything that is on the raepour, and we’ll make use of it. He stocked enough food to accommodate missing a rendezvous with the Ontrevay.”

  Antony reached up and touched her face. “You’re as sweaty as I am.”

  Trickles ran down her chest, and her cami felt like a solid layer of sweat. “Well, part of my walk was a climb. There doesn’t seem to be a cool spot anywhere in this cavern.”

  “Even the water is warm,” he said.

  She heard such longing for coolness in his sigh that she laid her fingers on his forehead.

  “Fever?” he asked.

  “Yes, that’s normal after an injury. Swelling is, too.” She circled her fingertips on his brow. “Your breathing sounds more natural.”

  He closed his eyes for a minute before responding. “Are you trying to hide reality…from me or from yourself?”

  “Listen to me, Antony. I know that you are in a lot of pain and no doubt feel sick on top of it, but remember what God told me. The flipside is also true. I came down here with you, so you will return to the Ontrevay. Alive. And don’t you forget that, even if you feel worse through the night.”

  Ghent requested visual communication with Leonfir, stating the subject as repair status. It seemed safer than including the primaries. No telling how this news would be received. He started with their decision to mine benzlium from the planet instead of the ejection arms.

  “I’m sure that is the safest option,” Leonfir said. “How much will lifting from the planet’s surface delay you?”

  “The lift itself won’t. We have a technique that uses an energy tether.”

  Leonfir’s eyes widened.

  “However,” Ghent said, “the planet’s weather is delaying us. Since Antony and Kena are the most ski
lled at atmospheric flight, they took the tether base to the surface. They landed safely and confirmed the benzlium source but haven’t been able to set the base yet.” Ghent paused. “That planet has produced several surprises. Unusual internal heat, unstable weather, and most shocking, it supports the remnant of an intelligent race.”

  Leonfir leaned forward. “With that orbit?”

  “Indeed. I gather, you’ve studied it.”

  “Only from a distance. We consider it unsuitable for colonization.”

  “I can see why,” Ghent said. “We know very little, at this point, but guess that a catastrophic event destroyed much of the civilization. Kena discovered a small community barely surviving in caves. They have provided shelter and basic medical aid. Unfortunately, Antony was injured during a storm, but Kena will place the tether base during the calm of night.”

  Leonfir’s hairline drew back at the temples. “Are you telling me that Kena is stranded on a planet with an unknown race?”

  Ghent firmed his voice. “She is not stranded. We are in orbit and will land, either by flight or by tether. Kena has communicated with the leader of the community. They are starving and anxious to trade with us. They will not harm her. Our biggest concern is Antony’s injury and the risk of infection.”

  “How is it possible that Kena has communicated adequately to discuss trade?”

  “Telepathically.” Leonfir looked as surprised as Ghent had felt when he read Kena’s report. “The race, which is called Erondur, has emfrel similar to mine. Kena has acclimated to many races, and therefore, is not at risk from Erondur emfrel. You probably know that Human emfrel is insubstantial, almost to the point of nonexistence. There is no record of it harming another race.”

  That must have been adequate explanation, for Leonfir said, “Do you have enough food on the Ontrevay to feed a starving race?”

  “Their winter has just ended, and plants grow rapidly. We only need to address a short-term issue for a small community. We will do that while mining benzlium, then return to you as planned. We’ll deal with Erondur’s long-term issues afterward.” Ghent swept his fingers on the table surface. “Please don’t misinterpret this situation. Kena will return to complete the link with Pernanyen.”

  Ghent found nothing reassuring in Leonfir’s fixed expression. He waited through a silence that Leonfir finally ended.

  “I won’t misinterpret it, Ghent. But others may.”

  Ghent halted the instinctive twitch of his shurgs. How could he phrase this and get actual information? “We sometimes find the statements of the PitKreelaundun vague. That leaves us guessing your meaning rather than understanding. I need to comprehend what is happening before it is too late to act.”

  Leonfir’s shoulders swayed. “Travannesal, TarKeen, and I made a commitment to Kena. We will never state, or imply, that we are not going to honor it. We are doing everything possible to fulfill it.” He slowed his words. “But we do not have an easy task. Some PitKreelaundun believe Kena is forcing us to break our own laws.”

  “Does that include Jenarsig?”

  “I cannot speak on behalf of a primary,” Leonfir said.

  No point in asking what NorGah’s opinion might be. With no solid information, Ghent would far rather remove Jenarsig from influence than introduce yet another unknown primary. If only he could find a way to do that.

  Leonfir shifted position in his chair. “Forgive me if that sounded like a non-answer, but I would only be speculating. Travannesal is dealing with Jenarsig and has forbidden him to talk to Kena without the triad’s approval.” His full lips tightened. “Which would not be easily obtained.”

  “Nor would my approval be easily obtained,” Ghent said.

  “There is one piece of advice that I can give you, Ghent. Bring Kena back to us at the first possibility.”

  Would nothing satisfy them? “We are already bringing her back earlier than agreed to.”

  Leonfir nodded, folding his hands on the table. “We greatly appreciate that, but it does not resolve all arguments. Everyone on the Epri7 knows that Kena is not going to Earth. They now expect her to return that much sooner. We do not blame you for a drive failure or for feeding a starved community. But it is still a delay, and executing Pernanyen is still a lawful resolution.”

  Ghent’s shurgs extended, and his words fell into rhythmic cadence. “I will bring Kena when it is possible. But I cannot do the impossible. You told us your government had confirmed Travannesal’s decision.”

  “They did agree to delay Pernanyen’s judgment, but not indefinitely.” Leonfir kept his voice soft. “Travannesal communicates with the other primaries. They have made an additional concession by forbidding Pernanyen’s execution for three days. This enables NorGah of Pont to reach us, as Kena requested. After that, I have no certainty what will happen. I doubt NorGah would agree to her immediate execution if, for instance, you were en route to us, but I cannot speak his mind. The sooner Kena reaches us, the better.”

  “Then, bring the Epri7 to Kena.”

  Leonfir startled. “But—”

  “She is in a cave, waiting out a lengthy storm. She cannot move, but you can. She has shortened the time by months. You could shorten it by days.” Ghent paused to subdue the cadence in his voice. “If you were here, you could perceive what is going on and silence those who seem to think we delay for trivial reasons.”

  Leonfir’s frown eased, but only slightly. “A valid point.” He hesitated. “As you wish.”

  The screen went dark, and Ghent sent a message to Remlishos. The Meklehon had become invaluable as primary officer, especially at times like these.

  When Remlishos joined him, Ghent said, “I need status on food production plans, but first…” Ghent scowled at the screen. “I’ll convey this conversation. Link, please.”

  When they finished, Remlishos leaned back in the chair next to Ghent. “Three days. Given their position, they should be able to reach us before that expires. If the storms abate and the benzlium is reasonably pure, we might have enough for a reload by then. But there are limits to our capacity on resource conversion. If we are restructuring dead plant matter into food for the Erondur, it will delay benzlium refinement.”

  “At least, we can manage that,” Ghent said. “The wind, we can barely predict, much less control. Lifting benzlium within the tether is one thing. Lowering a craft down the side of it during a storm is almost as risky as flying it down.”

  “The storms are losing energy in the near latitudes.”

  “Yes, I know. We’ll get down to the surface. I just don’t know if it will be soon enough. Metchell is very concerned.”

  “I wonder…” Remlishos squinted. “Probably not the best idea.”

  Ghent half-laughed. “Tell me, anyway.”

  “The PitKreelaundun don’t have tether technology, and they are colonizers. They probably have better atmospheric craft than we do. If we haven’t reached the surface by the time they arrive, we could request transport.”

  Ghent considered. “That might go well, or very bad. We’ll save that as a last resort.”

  Chapter Forty

  Kena sat with Turglund in the alcove, sipping from a flask of water. Going for one thing at a time, she’d gotten a blood sample and a tiny sample of food from him, but when he realized she wanted to take them to her craft, he refused to let her head out into the night.

  Hard to claim he was frowning, but his lower lip protruded. A hint of stubbornness flitted with his words through their high-level link. “The wind can rise in minutes, and darkness will slow your return, even if you knew the pathways.”

  Fair objection, but the list of supplies in the raepour craft included two standard issue EVA belts. How to explain that to Turglund? “Once I reach the craft, the wind cannot harm me. I have something stronger than animal skins to protect me on the way back.”

  Turglund did that waggle of his head. “What?”

  She said, “EVA field,” and imagined an EVA belt with its impenetrabl
e field.

  Puzzled awe stirred in Turglund. “Why weren’t you wearing them before?”

  She stuffed her angst and the urge to answer because we were stupid. Instead, she said, “We didn’t realize how fast the wind could change. I’ll take the samples to my craft. If the wind isn’t too bad, I’ll move it from the field to the plateau. Then, I’ll get supplies, put on my EVA belt, and come back.”

  “Maybe.” Turglund ended the link and strode from the room.

  She didn’t need this. Kena gulped water, trying to silence her stomach’s complaint. She was hungry, her head ached, and her hand throbbed. She blinked back tears. She couldn’t even talk to Antony, for he’d fallen into fitful dozing. She leaned on the alcove’s slope. How could she get out of the cavern without Turglund’s help?

  He returned and touched her shoulder. She jumped, for she was on the verge of sleep herself. She rubbed her eyes and sat up, preparing for another link.

  “I will go with you,” Turglund said. “One of the lawpyez handlers will take us to your craft.”

  Lawpyez. The woolly, eight-legged beast they’d ridden. Few of them survived, and they were critical for transporting enough food to last the long winter. Kena tried to say lawpyez. Turglund corrected her as many times as she tried it. “Ugh. Can I just call it an octa-llama?”

  “What does that mean?”

  She pictured a llama and the idea that adding octa meant eight-legged llama.

  Turglund began to laugh, a chuttering sound but recognizable. He called her llama a half-lawpyez, making Kena laugh, too.

  She called more images to mind. A bridled llama giving rides to children, and the way they settled on the ground, bending their forelegs first.

  He laughed more, pleased that Humans felt affection for their llamas.

  Kena savored the pleasure of deepening friendship. So often, it was the little things that built relationship.

  “I would like to see a llama,” Turglund said.