Diverse Demands

by Sharon Rose

  He who ignited Eron’s life, still loves you.

  He will never forget the children of Eron.

  And now, he has sent these to help you.

  Give to them and receive from them.

  Learn how to know their families.

  Kena’s eyes widened. “Do I hear reference to a creation story in that?”

  “Certainly, my love.” Antony spoke the endearment in English.

  “If you’re going to use other languages, then keep translating,” Ghent said.

  Antony shook his head. “That form of address is for my lips and Kena’s ears alone. But I’ll tell you more about Eron. It was the name of an individual, before it was incorporated into the name of all people. That last line, ‘Learn how to know their families,’ could be translated as ‘Learn how to link with their races.’ Their word for a telepathic link means to know—a person only, not other knowledge. They don’t have a word for race, never having realized there were any other peoples.”

  “That is detailed,” Metchell said. “Far more nuance than anyone could learn in a few minutes.”

  Antony smiled. “Time is vastly different when not encumbered by the physical realm.” He paused, but it seemed that no one could think of a response to that.

  Dhgnr finally broke the attentive silence he’d held throughout. “Are you saying that—I’m not sure what name to use—Immanuel—caused all of these things to happen for the sole purpose of preventing the Erondur’s extinction? If so, we must go back to the failure of the Ontrevay’s dimensional drive, if not farther. Did he cause that, as well?”

  Antony shook his head. “I would not use the words caused or solely. I would say instead that Immanuel used multiple circumstances, even unfavorable ones, whether they were caused by the laws of physics or by the choices of people. Through this, he accomplishes his purposes for each individual, to the degree that they are willing. He provides guidance, but he does not compel anyone to follow it.”

  “If you knew all of this, Kena,” Hrndl asked, “why didn’t you tell us, to start with?”

  “All of it?” Kena gave her head a little shake. “I certainly do not know Immanuel’s full mind or every detail of his purposes. I just know that he is inherently good and wholly loving. That’s why I trust him, even if I don’t understand. And as for telling you, to start with…” She spread her hand. “The little I told you was more than any of you could conceive.”

  Kena looked at each of them. “Years ago, Humans tried to explain the nature of spirit to sairital races. It led to confusion, so they stopped trying. Since God is a spirit, we cannot describe him to those who do not acknowledge the existence of spirit.” She let that hang for a moment. “And it is important that you know.”

  The room was so quiet, Antony could hear them breathe.

  Jorlit broke the silence. “Why?”

  “So many reasons,” Kena said. “I could speak of Immanuel’s love for those he created.” She caught Hrndl’s intent look and a Grfdn term sparked in her. “Or speak of his desire to coordinate with you. But for you, Jorlit…” She leaned closer to him. “I will speak of Frethan. Does that name bring sadness still?”

  Antony glanced around. Easy to recognize who had known him well.

  Kena smiled on Jorlit. “Mourn no longer. He lives. Antony saw him.”

  Jorlit’s mouth formed a W that couldn’t seem to get out.

  Antony said, “I walked on a mountainside. Across a valley, was another mountain with people. I realized they were Tenelli, and one of them waved at me with the Human gesture. I was puzzled, because I didn’t recognize him. My sister said, ‘Oh, that’s Frethan. He’s a friend of Kena. Be sure to tell her you saw him.’”

  “Your sister?” Ghent asked. “Who is dead?”

  “Yes, but—”

  “You were walking around with dead people?” Tevd demanded.

  Antony laughed. “I assure you, they were very much alive. They had bodies, though intrinsically different than these.” He swept a hand to indicate his physical form. “Bodies suited to the dimensions they dwell in, and able to move instantly from one place to another.”

  “Are you saying,” Hrndl asked, “that they can navigate dimensional slip with no protection or device at all?”

  Odd way to—Antony narrowed his eyes. No, maybe not so odd. “I suppose that is one way to describe it.”

  Hrndl compressed her thin lips into an even tighter line. Several expressions passed over her face. “Perhaps, I will never fully understand, but…” She looked back and forth between him and Kena. “I still want to know if a course—or anything else—comes to you through your spirit from Immanuel.”

  Exultation swelled in Antony’s chest. God within him rejoiced, for a Grfdn had asked for knowledge from God. Be it ever so small a request, he was certain it was the first time such words had ever issued from a Grfdn throat. He glanced at Kena to see if she perceived it. Her eyes flashed with joy.

  Kena turned to Ghent. “I would love to hear your thoughts.”

  “The things you two say are inconceivable, but it reminds me of my first link with you. I remember the power, the flight, and the peace. Always since then, I have wondered about what I perceived, but I have never doubted that I experienced it.”

  Kena’s eyes flicked to Antony’s in an instant of delight, before she answered Ghent. “You saw my mind’s reflection of my spirit.”

  “Then, your spirit must exist.” He rolled his shoulders. “Though it seems impossible that Antony died and lives again, I will not ignore the data, Metchell’s witness, or Antony’s words. Instead, I will hope for future understanding.”

  Jorlit angled his head. “That’s like what Kena said to TarKeen. Without mystery, there would be no joy of discovery.”

  “Ah, TarKeen,” Ghent said. “Why did he come down to Dur, Kena?”

  “He said Leonfir sent him to confirm that I was in good health. Seems a little strange to me. I asked about Jenarsig. TarKeen doesn’t trust him, but he doesn’t know his motives. He said that Jenarsig would yield nothing.”

  “Do you have any guesses on the real reason he came down?”

  Kena laughed. “My guess is that not even the PitKreelaundun know the real reason. A rather remarkable coincidence, the people who witnessed Antony’s death, return to life, and rapid healing.”

  Kena ran her fingers down a fold in her tunic. “I told TarKeen that I will come to Pernanyen very soon. When can we go?”

  Chapter Forty-Four

  Kena stared into the bay of the Epri7. The same view she had seen on that fateful day, with a PitKreelaundun child clinging to her chest.

  Surreal.

  The stripped-down craft that had carried her away from this ship, now carried her back. To Pernanyen.

  Antony piloted next to her, and Ghent sat behind them. She wasn’t even in a nav suit. The hem points of her skirt floated above her black leggings. Formal dress in a cockpit—so strange—but appropriate for visiting the PitKreelaundun. The Plynteth had no concept of formal clothing, but the shirt anchored around Ghent’s neck was lighter than usual, the dove-gray a pleasing contrast with his charcoal fur.

  Antony wore a jacket over a beige silk shirt, with a gold helix chain around his neck. A short, black beard traced his jaw and mouth. Oh, how handsome he was! She hid a smile. This was supposed to be about impressing the ruling families, but she couldn’t deny she liked the view.

  Kena fingered her emerald necklace. She hoped it would help convey the message of visiting dignitary rather than captured enemy. Like last time.

  Hard to believe how close she was.

  Antony behaved like this was a normal flight, but she knew better. They had spent every waking moment together since his return. Readjusting to so-called normal was no trivial matter. She could see it in everything about him, from his odd look at an ordinary nav console, to distant silences, to the way he gazed into her eyes.

  Antony must have noticed her watching him, for he glanced sideways with t
he smile that was hers alone. “How are you doing?”

  “Fine.” He waited, so she said, “Okay, I admit that my stomach’s a little fluttery, even for zero G.”

  Antony spoke with unhurried assurance. “Immanuel has given you his peace. It surpasses comprehension, guarding and protecting your mind.”

  Kena absorbed the familiar promise. “Mm. Nice choice.”

  He looked toward the Epri7 again. “Ah! I just got the perfect melody for those words.” He sang the promise in English, his voice so rich and deep. Not the dreamy tones often associated with peace. Powerful certainty, instead. She joined her voice with his, repeating it until peace wove around and through her like a sinuous force.

  They drew so close to the Epri7 that the stepped sides of its bay filled their view. Seven nested cylinders independently spinning. ParTan contacted them from the Epri7, and Antony confirmed navigation details. Their craft engaged the energy fields, which drew them toward the narrowest point of the bay, then into one of the holds. Centrifugal force provided the equivalent of weight.

  ParTan spoke on the comm system, “Pressurization is complete. It is safe to open your craft.”

  Ghent stepped from the craft, then Antony, who took Kena’s hand. He supported her as she stepped out, then placed her hand on his arm.

  PitKreelaundun entered the chamber, Travannesal at the center. Leonfir and YefRon flanked him, while nameless others hovered in the rear. Travannesal wore his broad, golden collar of office, but at least he kept his formal greetings short.

  In moments, they were strolling down a broad hallway, her hand on Antony’s arm, while Travannesal walked at her other side. The rest followed.

  “It is pleasant,” he said, “to welcome you as an intentional visitor, Kena. I’m glad you agreed to stay a few days to share culture with us.” His gaze moved from her emerald necklace to her dress. A sheer layer, hand-dyed with shimmering waves of green, teal, and blue, over a black under-dress. “Is this native Human attire?”

  Ah, he did notice clothing. “Yes, one of several styles.”

  “The colors shifting with your movement,” he said, “create a charming effect.”

  “Thank you.”

  Travannesal led them into a broad sitting room. He stopped beside a central grouping of sofas and chairs that coordinated with the textile wallcoverings. “These are your quarters for your visit.” He gestured toward three openings on the long side of the room, opposite the hallway. “The bedrooms.” He pointed left toward an end wall. “Through this door, Pernanyen waits to link with you. That room also has hallway access, but you will not be disturbed. Only YefRon may enter.”

  Kena’s breath slowed, and activities around her grew distant. Aides delivered luggage and two trays of refreshments. Dinner was mentioned. Leonfir offered Ghent a tour of the ship.

  Ghent glanced her way, and Kena nodded. No surprise that she hadn’t been invited. As the two captains exited, the aides did likewise, leaving Kena and Antony alone with Travannesal and YefRon.

  Travannesal turned to Kena. After a tiny pause, he asked in a soft voice, “Are you ready to complete the constrained link with Pernanyen?”

  “I am ready.”

  He inclined his head. “YefRon will monitor from an adjacent room.”

  “Monitor what?”

  “Sairital readings,” Travannesal said. “It is a standard precaution when members of different races link. He can monitor you, as well.”

  “No, thank you. I am not at risk, and I don’t want misinterpretations.”

  Travannesal looked at YefRon for a moment. “I was hoping you would explain to her why this is advisable.”

  “How can I explain a Human to a Human? She is correct. We don’t know how to interpret their data.”

  Wow. A step in the right direction.

  Travannesal motioned, and YefRon left the room.

  “Come, please.” Travannesal led them through the door at the far end.

  At last, they stood face to face. Pernanyen’s hands clenched at the waist of her plain cream-colored tunic as she looked up at Kena. “I welcome you, Kena Talgarth,” she said with quiet formality.

  Was her golden hair a shade darker? Tormenting memories stirred Kena’s anger, but she caught it and turned her thoughts to compassion. “Peace to you.” Kena gestured to her side. “Pernanyen, this is Antony Galliano.”

  She lifted her gaze even higher. “It pleases me to meet you.”

  Antony inclined his head. “Be at peace.”

  Pernanyen’s rigid posture eased. “I did not realize this was a traditional greeting among Humans.”

  “It is one of many,” Kena said. “We use it, now, because we—quite literally—want you at peace. Sit, please.” She gestured to the lounge behind Pernanyen, drawing nearer. “Travannesal, why do you linger?”

  “I wait only to confirm that you have begun the link.”

  So, he expected it to be visible. Fine, Kena would give him enough. “Antony, will you refresh us with that song of peace?”

  As he sang the first measures, she savored the rich timbre of his voice a moment before joining in. Her tension dissipated, but disturbing memories still fought for recognition. Kena visualized the mare embodying her emotions. She drew rein, bringing them to calm stillness. It was time.

  Kena focused on differentiating her mind and spirit, then extended her mental energy around Pernanyen. She remained oblivious, swaying with the melody, which Antony now brought to a soft close.

  “I am here, Pernanyen,” Kena whispered, placing a hand on each of her shoulders. “Reach into the link.”

  A soft moan escaped Pernanyen’s lips as her awareness engaged with Kena. She sagged against Kena’s grip.

  “Lie down, now.” Kena spoke the words aloud as well as within Pernanyen’s mind. “Rest until you are accustomed.” As Pernanyen curled unto her side, Kena sensed Travannesal leave. She segregated her thoughts and glanced at Antony.

  “Is all well?” he asked.

  “It is well.”

  He gestured to the open doorway of the adjacent room. “I’ll be in there.”

  Kena pulled a supportive chair near Pernanyen. Time to start. She eased from detached presence into more active awareness.

  Pernanyen responded, lifting her sairit from relaxation.

  They regarded one another internally, though Pernanyen’s body appeared to sleep. She formed a question within herself. Are you angry with me?

  Sometimes, but I have forgiven you.

  Pernanyen pondered that. It didn’t fully make sense. Now, you may inspect my opinions and memories. In this, you will have justice.

  I do not seek retribution, child.

  Kena observed Pernanyen’s struggle with comprehension again, this time with the endearment of child. She found it strange that Kena would call her that, yet…Oh, how she needed to be someone’s child again! The pain she had endured when her father severed their sairital bond was nothing compared to the perpetual agony of this orphaned state. She remembered Kena was present in these thoughts, although subtly.

  Kena met the need of an orphan’s loneliness first, drawing forth love to soothe and strengthen. She eased her supply out, watching Pernanyen’s reaction. So much love had flowed from spirit to mind over the years, that a vast supply waited in Kena’s mental realm, ready to flow with rich emotion.

  The pain of isolation sloughed from Pernanyen.

  Child. Kena caressed her with the word, then enjoyed her awestruck wonder.

  Pernanyen formed words again. Kena, this is precious, but don’t you understand? You are to search me and—

  I control this link, child. You will not tell me what I am to do.

  Pernanyen’s thoughts seemed to stutter, as though she was suddenly unable to respond. Her worry resurfaced, tinged with despair. If Kena did not inspect her knowledge, no one—at least, no PitKreelaundun—would judge the constrained link complete. She considered Kena’s unconcern. Should she be relieved or more worried?

&
nbsp; What else do you fear, child?

  That you’ll remove all your memories from me. Without them, the primaries will not believe that the Collaborative was ignorant of tra-pentazine.

  Kena remained unperturbed. This possibility has occurred to me. I will leave enough. The irrelevant emotion you stumbled across, I will remove. Pertinent facts and assessments, I’ll let you keep. Also, the entire conversation when Hrndl and I first began to discover the properties of tra-pentazine—before we knew its name. I discussed this with her.

  Kena let her memory of Hrndl’s attentive expression flit through conscious thought. We have decided to gift you with that understanding. I’ll let you keep my emotional reaction, too. If that is not enough to convince others, then they are choosing not to believe, despite proof. Kena paused, holding that last thought in mind for emphasis. In the future, whoever explored Pernanyen’s knowledge would feel the weight of that statement.

  Kena used that memory as a starting point and traced to the next, identifying her own memories within Pernanyen’s mind and choosing between them. She removed one, then urged Pernanyen to think through what remained. Kena watched as Pernanyen’s thought reached a gap, traversed a nanosecond of nothingness, then continued on to the conclusion. Perfect.

  Memory by memory, she moved through Pernanyen’s perception of their link from months ago. How docile Pernanyen was. Kena formed a question. Was this the state you hoped to persuade me into when you constrained me to link?

  Yes. Something similar, at least. It would have been so much easier for you.

  Kena continued her work without responding, but she sensed Pernanyen’s underlying worry. When, at last, she finished sifting memories, she slowed her thoughts to the speed of language. I’m going to withdraw.

  Pernanyen’s worry leapt to alarm. Wait! You have not searched me yet—to be convinced that the PitKreelaundun thought the Collaborative knew about tra-pentazine.

  Kena spoke her final thoughts, to start the adjustment to speech. “Yes, I know you think I must do more in this link. Needless, but I will satisfy your laws. Rest, now. I will return soon.” Her stilted words must have reached Antony in the adjacent room, for she heard approaching footsteps. She guided Pernanyen toward sleep, then stood and met Antony in the doorway. She leaned into his embrace.