Diverse Demands

by Sharon Rose

  She kept her voice pleasant. “Is there anything else you would like to discuss?”

  “Other issues will be decided by law.”

  Kena smiled. “I’m sure they will. We have a few minutes and could simply converse. I was trying to give you the choice of topic.”

  “Ah,” he murmured. “I will return the courtesy to you. What topic would a Human enjoy?”

  “Your culture interests me. Let’s try family, shall we?”

  “Oh, I see.” His shoulders swayed. “I have three children, any of whom could become my heir, though two are more likely than the other. I have not specified which will assume the role of primary, so I have both a Son of Shennasee and a Daughter of Shennasee.”

  He couldn’t even talk about family without making it about government. She would find no casual path to knowing him. A direct question, then. “How are you related to Kendimarron?”

  Jenarsig inhaled through both lungs. His fingers hooked, making the knuckles bulge. “How dare you!”

  Antony tensed beside her. “Does a question of relationship require daring?”

  “I would have thought it obvious, even to you. Kendimarron, former Son of Shennasee, was my brother…before the Interstellar Collaborative killed him.”

  Ghent looked to Leonfir. “Have you not revealed what you learned from our link?”

  “I have.”

  Short answer. Leonfir must have known how little opportunity Jenarsig would yield.

  “Do you think I should be swayed by individual perceptions?” Jenarsig glared at Ghent. “You will claim that tra-pentazine killed him, but the Collaborative caused it.” He turned his glare to Kena and Antony. “Kendimarron was highly respected and loved. If you dare ask such a question, you can have no comprehension of the loss of a treasured brother and son.”

  Antony answered softly. “My sister, Mary, was killed in an accident two years ago.”

  Stunned silence followed.

  “It could have been avoided so easily,” Antony said. “She, too, was precious to us.”

  Jenarsig all but snarled his next words. “Does Kena ask you about it?”

  A wry smile lifted the corner of Antony’s mouth. “Yes, she did. I admit to being angry at first. But when Kena addresses pain, she does so in order to heal. The result is that my love for Mary is no longer polluted by anger.”

  Still, Jenarsig glared.

  “Perhaps,” Antony said, “it did require some daring for her to ask you that. But Kena is infused with love, and love conquers fear. So, yes…she is courageous.”

  Jenarsig sneered and twitched his head leftward. A dismissive gesture, but Kena hadn’t come this far to be silenced by disdain. “Anger does not heal wounds. It deepens them.” She paused, but he kept his creased lips tight. “Healing is available to you, too—if you want it.”

  “I need nothing from you,” Jenarsig snapped. “Enough of this. If I am to link with Pernanyen, I should not be thinking of death.” He rose and paced the empty portion of the room.

  Leonfir filled the quiet. “Ghent, how are repairs progressing on your dimensional drive?”

  That subject got them through a few more minutes, though Kena said nothing.

  Travannesal spoke, his words gentle. “Kena, may I show you the gracious side of the PitKreelaundun? Is there anything you would enjoy right now?”

  She smiled. “I would like to greet TarKeen. Could you ask him to join us?”

  Jenarsig answered from the end of the room. “TarKeen is confined to quarters. The triad’s decision to send him to Dur may have misled you. He is accused of mutiny and awaits trial.”

  Kena’s chest tightened, but she forced it to relax. At least Jenarsig no longer snarled.

  Travannesal’s eyes half closed for an instant. “Kena, may I request your patience regarding TarKeen?”

  “Certainly.” What could she request that wouldn’t rile anyone? “Uh, I would enjoy more of that juice.”

  Travannesal’s amber eyes creased at the corners, giving the impression that he understood.

  Jenarsig strode to the side table for the decanter. “Please allow me to serve you.”

  She murmured her thanks, as Travannesal asked Ghent about progress with the Erondur. They kept it going until NorGah returned from Pernanyen. He reminded Kena of TarKeen. Not just appearance. His bearing perhaps…that firm, unhurried stride.

  NorGah halted and said, “I have completed my link with Pernanyen,” He focused on Jenarsig. “She can tolerate another link. You may go to her, now.”

  “So soon?” Jenarsig’s tone warped his question into mockery. He strode to the room where she waited.

  Travannesal stepped into the hallway. “Tell YefRon to—” The closing door chopped off his instructions.

  What was that about?

  Travannesal returned in a moment. “Dinner will be served soon.” He stopped beside a chair. “NorGah, Kena requested that TarKeen join us. Jenarsig refused, but I would like to grant her request. Do you wish to state an opinion?”

  “The full triad should be present,” NorGah said. “Particularly, since Kena requested it.”

  Travannesal nodded to Leonfir, who was already reaching for a device.

  Was it going to be this easy? Hm. Easy had an unnatural feeling to it.

  Travannesal drew the group away from the central seating area, where aides converged to arrange furniture and extend a low table. The door opened several times, drawing Kena’s eyes, but only staff entered, carrying serving tiers laden with food and dishes.

  Finally, TarKeen arrived. She’d never seen him so finely dressed. His black tunic had a muted sheen, embellished with a thin line of amber around the sleeves. Kena smiled at him, and his somber expression lightened. He seemed tense, but when he responded to her introduction of Antony, his low voice remained smooth.

  “I have long wanted to greet you,” Antony said, “and thank you for the respect and protection you give Kena.”

  TarKeen inclined his head. “I am honored to offer it.” He stepped back and surveyed Kena fully. “So, this is Human styling.” When she spun to flare her skirt, he smiled. “ShenLee will delight in the colors and flow. Textiles are her favorite art medium.” He raised his gaze to Antony’s. “You, too, are more elaborately dressed than when I saw you on Dur.”

  Antony chuckled. “That would be true no matter what I wear.”

  NorGah’s brow gathered, so Kena explained. “Antony was injured on Dur, and we had to cut his shirt off to tend the wound.”

  “Ah. I hope you recover fully.”

  Antony left a split-second pause. “I have.”

  She glanced around their faces to see the effect of Antony’s low-pitched answer. Only in TarKeen did she glimpse comprehension, although Leonfir seemed to focus on TarKeen’s expression. He couldn’t have told them.

  “Before we get interrupted again,” Kena said, “there is something I would like to say to the triad.”

  They turned to her.

  “TarKeen, Travannesal, and Leonfir, I wish to express my gratitude for diligently fulfilling your commitment to me. I could not have kept my promise to Pernanyen and to the PitKreelaundun without your efforts. I realize it was not always easy, which deepens my appreciation all the more.”

  The three of them inclined their torsos, and Travannesal stepped back into the formal bow he had given her months ago. “We are honored to have this opportunity to serve you.”

  NorGah opened his mouth to speak, but the far door opened. Jenarsig was already back?

  His glare stabbed at TarKeen. “Why is he here?”

  “With the permission of two primaries,” NorGah said, “he is here as a member of the triad to receive Kena’s thanks.”

  “I see. Please proceed.”

  “She has already expressed herself graciously,” NorGah said. “Perhaps your earlier behavior did not cause her to believe you would appreciate her words.” He turned to his guests. “Please, come and let us serve you.” He guided Ghent to a ch
air at the end of the low table, while Antony followed Kena to the sofa opposite the door.

  Travannesal described custom and cuisine as he served the first dishes to Kena and Antony. NorGah served Ghent from the freth/prin dishes at the end of the table, then took his own place. Leonfir and TarKeen were the last to sit.

  As if he’d waited for that moment, Jenarsig said, “The ship triad is no longer significant. TarKeen must return to confinement.”

  “Since you refuse to let us eat in peace,” NorGah said, “we will address that issue.” He picked up a bowl and spooned steaming vegetables into it from an upper tier of the serving trays. “I have reviewed the evidence and heard the pre-trial statements from Leonfir’s memory. I find no cause to even charge TarKeen with the crime of mutiny.”

  “He is clearly hiding information,” Jenarsig said, “for he refused a constrained link. Already, there are indications of a deeper plot, and we must determine how far it spreads.”

  “Then, search among the Kell,” TarKeen said. “That is where the evidence points. None of it points to me. NorGah, I assert that Jenarsig abused the laws of constrained links, attempting to alter unrelated outcomes.”

  Kena parsed back through that. Oh, he’d misused it for political purposes.

  “We spoke only of the mutiny,” Jenarsig said.

  TarKeen’s voice grew more precise. “As a PitKree, I would always decline a constrained link. As a member of the triad, I was defending another person’s legal right to complete a constrained link. If I had claimed my personal right, you could have used my argument against Pernanyen, defeating the very commitment I had made to Kena and to the peace her actions promise. So, I was forced to act as though my refusal pertained only to the mutiny, creating the false impression that I was hiding my own guilt.”

  Ah, he had been caught between contradictory choices, too. Kena’s chest expanded. Oh, could she relate!

  Jenarsig stirred his food. “If I were indeed using it to affect the outcome of Pernanyen’s link, then I would be willing to withdraw my charge now. But I am not.”

  “Irrelevant,” Travannesal said. “That would prove misuse and show pre-determination, which would silence your vote. And you do not want your vote silenced, do you?”

  “Of course not. I am a primary. It is my responsibility to vote.”

  “Fortunately,” Travannesal said, “there are three primaries here, so we can enjoy the protection that provides. My decision: There is no evidence on which to charge TarKeen with mutiny. On the contrary, his commitment to Kena makes it inconceivable that he would have knowingly allowed a mutiny.” Travannesal took bread from a tray. “Any other comments, NorGah?”

  “My decision stands. I will be documenting a formal complaint against Jenarsig for misuse of constrained links.”

  Travannesal leaned forward and tapped a device on the table. An aide entered. “Publish a bulletin,” Travannesal said, “that the primary majority will not charge Commander TarKeen with mutiny. His rank of commander is reaffirmed.”

  Kena glanced at TarKeen. Though he appeared to be looking down into his dish, she was sure he closed his eyes. The other PitKreelaundun…they acted like nothing had happened. How could this be so easy? Again.

  “Yes, sir,” the aide said to Travannesal. “YefRon is here. Do you wish to see him?”

  “Send him in.” When YefRon entered, Travannesal motioned him to a seat. “You may join us. How is Pernanyen?”

  “There is no sign of trauma,” YefRon said, serving himself. “She is sleeping now.”

  Jenarsig smirked.

  Why did he look pleased? Nothing was going his way, and he had just been slammed by a peer.

  “Now, perhaps we can enjoy this meal,” NorGah said. He suggested another dish to Kena and Antony.

  For a few minutes, only the clink of utensils and the soft sounds of eating filled the room.

  “TarKeen,” NorGah asked, “how far back does your ancient memory reach?”

  “Four generations before PitKreel’s destruction.”

  NorGah paused with bread halfway to his mouth. “That’s more than mine.”

  “How far is yours?”

  “Three generations prior.”

  TarKeen turned his head aside with a faint smile. “No difference.”

  NorGah glanced at Ghent. “Do any of the Collaborative races pass down ancient memories from previous generations?”

  “I’m not sure what you mean by ancient memory. Most races record history, to some extent.”

  “We PitKree,” NorGah said, “telepathically pass significant memories to our offspring, who, in turn, pass them to the next generation. Ancient memory employs a neurological structure we have never found in another race.”

  Ghent swallowed and reached for his water. “Doesn’t that get overwhelming?”

  The PitKree exchanged amused looks.

  “No,” TarKeen said, “but non-PitKree often make such comments. We also keep some documented history, for implanted memories can be lost.”

  Intriguing. “Oh?” Kena angled her gaze to TarKeen.

  “They can only be passed through the bond we create with our children. And only to the same gender.”

  Antony swirled juice in his glass. “Same gender? Why?”

  “There is a slight difference,” YefRon said, “in brain structure between females and males. Long-term and ancient memory employ different neurological structures. With few exceptions, only one person can pass memories to a child, and they must pass them gradually. If a parent dies young, or loses memory due to trauma, it’s impossible to replace the memories of earlier generations.”

  “There is also,” NorGah said, slowing his words, “the rare case of a parent choosing not to pass on ancient memories.”

  Antony’s hand stopped mid-motion, surprise lifting his voice. “Why wouldn’t they?”

  NorGah’s gaze lingered on Antony. “You seem to be one of the few non-PitKree who comprehend value in ancient memory. Even the Laundun don’t understand.”

  “Ah, some do,” TarKeen said.

  Travannesal smiled. “Thank you, TarKeen.”

  NorGah inclined his head but continued what he was saying. “I tell you this because, even though the vast majority of PitKree consider our ancient memories precious…” He paused. “…the last ruling primary of Kell, and his wife, denied all their children ancient memories. I won’t state reasons, since they are…objectionable to me and may be inexplicable to you.”

  NorGah sipped his juice. “Their unwise decision laid the foundation for VanDar’s inciting behavior, ultimately leading to the mutiny on this ship. This triggered an investigation into the entire family of Kell, resulting in their permanent removal from the PitKreelaundun government.”

  He turned to Ghent. “If VanDar’s mutiny has caused the Collaborative concerns, you may set them aside. The family of Kell will never again interfere in any treaty.”

  “I appreciate your explanation,” Ghent said. “The possibility of civil war has troubled us ever since Kena and I were here before.”

  NorGah’s lips parted. “Why would you have been concerned then?”

  Only TarKeen looked unsurprised. “Kena,” he said, “may I share what you told me in your craft that day?”

  “Please do.”

  TarKeen set his bowl on the table. “Kena asked me if we were on the verge of civil war. Then, she warned of its horrors, which Humans have experienced, and she encouraged me to prevent it.” He drew a breath in the silence. “That was all she said. It shocked me. Of course, I know of the PitKree desire for a home-world…and share it, but all we need are some ships dedicated to the search. That, and the right to colonize the planet we find. We don’t need a war to obtain those.”

  He paused again. “But I grew concerned that some people might think we did. I increased my efforts to monitor VanDar. If not for Kena’s warning, it’s possible that his mutiny would have succeeded. At a minimum, Pernanyen would be dead.” He looked at Travannesal. �
�Possibly you and Leonfir, as well.”

  “Why…” NorGah clamped his lips, then he said, “TarKeen, I will need more details, later, regarding Kell.”

  “Certainly, sir.”

  NorGah turned to Kena. “Did you absorb that knowledge from VanDar during Pernanyen’s trial?”

  “No.” How much to say? “My information source is related to spirit, not sairit.” That got the usual blank stares. “How will this affect the ruling family rotation and the balance of PitKree and Laundun votes?”

  “We are all PitKreelaundun,” Jenarsig said. “That is why our government is stable. No family can override law.”

  Travannesal said, “These developments are very recent. It is likely that the balance of voting rights will soon be restored.”

  Jenarsig smirked. “Quite likely.”

  Oh, he sounded way too happy!

  Jenarsig turned to Kena and Antony. “Travannesal is including music in the culture exchange he plans for tomorrow. Will you share selections from Earth and your remarkable Human voices?”

  Antony answered, which was just as well. Kena couldn’t get her mind off the remarks Antony had overheard.

  Aides cleared food and removed the low table, while talk wove from music to dance. Kena didn’t feel at all like dancing. They needed decisions, not casual chatter.

  YefRon watched her. “Kena, do you need to rest?”

  “No.”

  “Is anything wrong?”

  “Nothing is wrong with me. But”—she glanced at her hosts—“I am concerned about Pernanyen.”

  “She will be fine once she has slept,” YefRon said.

  TarKeen studied Kena. “That’s not what she means.”

  Chapter Forty-Seven

  Those feelings of too-easy flipped inside Kena at the smug sound of Jenarsig’s voice. “Of course, that’s not what Kena means.” Jenarsig’s lips stretched, setting her teeth on edge. “She knows Pernanyen was not tired or stressed by their link. It must appear that we needlessly delay our judgment on the question of completion.”