by Sharon Rose
“Oh, relax,” Kena said. “There may be a few Earth-bound Humans who would be offended, but the space-faring Humans wouldn’t give it a passing thought. I am certainly not bothered. And I’ll make sure Ghent knows.” She turned back to Hrndl and picked up her glass. “Now, please, enjoy a comfortable drink with me.”
Hrndl stared as though some inconceivable boon was being granted. “You really don’t care?”
“Not in the least.”
Hrndl heaved an audible sigh and reached for the pouch.
Krdn closed a hand over it as he brought his sneering face near Kena’s. “If we wish to drink from pouches, we will do so without your—help.” He hurled the pouch against the wall.
A stunned silence followed Krdn’s dramatic gesture. Too vehement for this passive lot—they’d get over it. But the hush remained. Too late, he saw the reason.
Ghent stood in the doorway of the dining hall, his stern gaze moving from the water splattered on the wall, to the split pouch on the floor, and finally to Krdn’s face. “Explain your action,” he said, with heavily emphasized cadence.
Krdn drew his head back. “Kena tried to coerce Hrndl into defying your orders. I was simply making it clear to her that we will not tolerate such behavior.”
Ghent’s eyes turned to Kena. “Do you have a response?”
She leaned back in her chair, dangling a hand over the armrest. “This is nothing more than a misunderstanding. Hrndl and I both find it awkward to drink from cylinders, so I brought water for each of us in the container customary for our race. I had no idea you’d issued orders pertaining to what we drink from. Then, Krdn arrived and drew conclusions that I do not begin to understand. I cannot see how my actions could be considered coercive, nor do I have any desire to cause Hrndl to defy you.”
Krdn’s breath stopped as Ghent looked at Hrndl. She sat rigid, her thin lips pressed tight. If Ghent said one word of reprimand to her, Kena was going to regret it every moment until he could be rid of her.
Ghent’s words flowed without cadence. “Hrndl, I suspect you’re in a difficult situation. I will not require any comment from you.”
Without the faintest quiver of emotion, Hrndl said, “In fairness, I do not believe Kena intended to cause trouble.”
“Then, apparently, nothing at all has happened,” Ghent said. Walking past Krdn, he murmured with Grfdn acidity, “You appear to have a mess to clean up.”
Mess? Was this an oblique suggestion that he apologize? His stomach seized. No! The split pouch. It had to be that. Krdn picked it up, tossed it into a receptacle, and left the hall without a backward glance.
Pride demanded that Hrndl finish the meal with Kena. She didn’t even have support from her own race, for Dhgnr took Frdn and Rnl to another table. Kena’s tact minimized the ordeal. She guided the conversation into neutral channels—Grfdn cuisine, of all things. So much easier to accept than the meaningless apologies most races offered in the midst of conflict. And how strange it was to watch a Human savoring a Grfdn food.
As soon as she could reasonably do so, Hrndl made a polite and dignified departure. Once outside the dining hall, she quickened her steps. Reaching Krdn’s quarters, she slapped the comm unit and stated her name. The door slid open.
Hrndl eyed the half-finished food on his table. “Enjoying your meal in solitude, Krdn?”
“Not at all. I was hoping you’d join me sooner. What would you like to eat?” he asked reaching for his computer.
Did he think she’d fall for that soothing tone, or the way he pretended not to hear her insult? “Nothing. I’m civil enough to eat in public. I dined with Kena.”
“What? An entire meal? Oh, Hrndl, you really didn’t need to make such a sacrifice. No wonder you’re in a temper.”
Hrndl panted, barely able to get enough air. “After the way you acted, I most certainly did have to stay with her. Everyone on the ship would have been talking about Grfdn manners. Your behavior was inexcusable!”
“My behavior?”
“Yes, yours!” Hrndl took an unsteady breath then tried to smooth her exhale. “Fortunately, Kena can maintain calm far better than you can. I believe she and I managed to convey a pleasant interaction.”
Krdn shook his head as though he couldn’t believe her words. “Think for a moment, Hrndl. What would have happened if I hadn’t stopped you drinking from that pouch? Ghent would have walked in and seen it in your mouth. What do you suppose he would’ve said?”
“Since he takes more time to listen than you do, I doubt he would’ve said much at all. He might even have realized that Kena doesn’t care about pouches in the least, and we’d be free to drink from them again. Instead, you’ve made a trivial event into a grand scene, and we’ll be stuck with cylinders for the rest of the trip.”
Krdn mimicked a very non-Grfdn tone of exaggerated concern. “Oh, Hrndl, I had no idea you wanted to be beholden to the Human. If only I’d known, I would have begged her to help you as soon as she arrived.”
“Oh, shut up!”
“Sounds repulsive, doesn’t it? So why were you accepting help from a Human? You should be glad I stopped you from doing that, too. Do you think she would let you forget it?”
“Yes, I do. If you hadn’t created a scene, she would never have thought of it again. She was just getting two containers of water.” Hrndl jerked her head back. “Stop pretending you know what you’re talking about. You look a fool! And spare me any more of your help. I don’t want it.”
Krdn took a moment to answer. The muscles in his neck relaxed. “I know you do not need it. I’ve always admired that about you.” He stood and took a step toward her. “Hrndl, you must forgive me if I’m too solicitous. My instinct to protect you is nearly overwhelming.”
His words pulled her thoughts to a sudden stop. Mating instinct? Was that really the issue? Possible. She could only guess. A strange foreboding tingled through her. The indistinct desire to talk with females—experienced Grfdn females—was morphing into necessity.
“Come,” Krdn said. “We had best put this aside. We should return to work before those gossiping Prednians notice our absence.”
The threat of enduring gossip was enough to convince Hrndl to walk to the simulation room with him.
Chapter Ten
Kena hoped the incident would blow over without further comment. No such luck. Ghent sent for her after fourth meal.
“I assume you know what I want to talk about,” Ghent said as Kena sat down opposite him at his curved, granite table.
She leaned back in the chair, allowing her hands to dangle from the armrests. “Oh, I don’t think we should guess at it. Assumptions haven’t worked out very well for me today. Before we get into whatever you do want to talk about, would you mind telling me what you meant a few days ago when you mentioned the other Grfdn habit which is known to offend Humans?”
“I was referring to drinking pouches.”
“Oh, good.” Kena sighed the words out. “I was afraid there might be another surprise in store for me. Why didn’t you tell me?”
“You are Human—I thought you would know. And at that moment, the last thing I wanted to bring up was an embarrassing subject.” His fingertips slid back and forth across the granite. “There are likely to be many more surprises. Why were you sitting with Hrndl in the first place? Don’t you know Grfdn prefer to eat only with their own race?”
“Yes, of course.” Kena shrugged. “But that’s because so few races use table manners acceptable to them. Human manners are not so very different from Grfdn’s, and I don’t mind taking tiny bites, as their etiquette demands. Also, she was the only one there. I understand that Grfdn hate to eat alone. It seemed like a good time to get to know her. I need to work closely with her, and it would be easier if we had at least some basic relationship.”
Ghent glanced at a message on his computer before answering her. “It might be easier for you, but it makes no difference to her. What she wants most from you is predictability. Failing that, s
he wants clear, concise communication. Do you think you’re likely to succeed with a friendship she doesn’t want?”
“I doubt we’ll ever be close friends,” Kena said, “but things were civil when Krdn wasn’t involved.”
“Are you familiar with Grfdn mating customs?”
Kena blinked. “I, uh, believe I understand the basics.”
“You have the most interesting expressions,” Ghent said, with a hint of a smile. “What does this one mean?”
“I’m rather surprised at the change in subject.”
Ghent shook his head. “I haven’t changed the subject. Hrndl is approaching first ovulation. I’d like to know what you understand about that.”
“Oh!” Kena shifted her position. “Uh, the Grfdn reproductive system becomes active comparatively late. Females don’t choose a mate until the first ovum is maturing. The instinct is quite strong, because an ovum can’t be delivered without assistance from a mate. Their race has unequal proportions in gender. Only forty percent are female—which makes for very competitive males. And perhaps most important of all, the subject is taboo. I won’t be chattering about it.”
“That would be disastrous.” He leaned forward, resting his folded arms on the table. “I wouldn’t normally discuss this, but you haven’t been here long enough to recognize the changes that are obvious to me. Krdn is determined to be Hrndl’s mate. He is already possessive and protective. I suggest you avoid situations where you could be a hindrance to their relationship.”
“I see,” Kena said slowly.
Ghent frowned at her. “What annoys you about that?”
Her eyebrows drew together for an instant, then she burst into laughter, tilting her chair back as far as it would give. “Nothing, at all. When Humans draw out words, it shows thoughtfulness, not annoyance.”
“Ah.” Ghent settled back in his rigid chair.
Kena stilled her mirth and asked, “Do you think Krdn over-reacted because he thought I was trying to cause trouble for Hrndl?”
“Beyond doubt, to borrow their phrase. Believe me, I do not normally overlook such unrestrained temper.”
One of his shurgs extended as he enunciated the last two words. Apparently, that scene had bothered him far more than he revealed in the dining hall.
Kena licked her lips. “Have I convinced you that drinking pouches don’t offend me? Will you permit Grfdn to drink from them?”
“It’s a moot point, Kena. They won’t drink from them while you’re on this ship.”
“Why not?”
“Because,” he said, “you obtained that privilege for them.”
She tilted her head. “I don’t understand. Wouldn’t this fit in with their all-important coordination thing?”
“Not at all.” Ghent shook his head. “They do not coordinate because they need or want help. Implying that someone needs help is an insult to a Grfdn. The purpose of coordination is to increase efficiency. If employing two people more than doubles the output for a given task, then they coordinate. Both of them expect to gain equal benefits from the synergy. Otherwise, they work alone.” He paused and emphasized his next sentence. “The purpose of coordination is never to help someone.”
“From a navigator’s perspective, this is not good.”
“Why do you say that?” he asked as his shurg retracted, an apparent unconscious movement.
“What if someone’s craft is damaged,” Kena said, “or for any other reason, they can no longer provide their full contribution? Will Hrndl or Krdn just abandon the other navigator and carry on alone?”
“Never!” Ghent said. “Once agreed upon, the commitment cannot be broken. The entire task must be completed. The greatest possible benefit is still equally shared between both parties, even if that benefit is far less than originally envisioned. Grfdn never leave a partner if there is any chance of bringing them back alive.”
Kena considered his words for a moment. “This has been most enlightening. Have we covered what you wanted to see me about?”
Ghent laughed. “Yes, ma’am.”
What did that mean? “Why are you laughing and calling me ma’am? Did I say something I shouldn’t have?”
“Let us rather say that conversations with you are—unique.”
“Oh. Uh, good night, then.”
“Good night, Kena.”
Ghent replayed the conversation in his mind for a few minutes until Frethan entered.
“What amuses you?” Frethan asked.
“Kena. I called her here to talk about a very unpleasant incident between her and our Grfdn navigators. She led the conversation, and then very graciously asked if we had covered what I wanted to see her about.”
Frethan chuckled as he smoothed his wispy hair back. “I can well imagine. And yet you let her get away with it?”
Ghent smiled. “Oh, I’m exaggerating a little. She’s not disrespectful, and I’m learning a tremendous amount by letting her talk freely. Still, I find her exquisitely humorous at times. Only you and Metchell talk to me as casually as she does.”
“We are Tenelli and Dantokrellie, after all.”
“Ah, yes. Two races of most friendly repute. But you know it’s not that.” Ghent swept the fingers of one hand back and forth on his table. “Who would ever have thought that an arrogant Human would interact with me the same way you do.”
Frethan’s brow creased. “Humans are often criticized for arrogance, but I do not see it in her. Granted, she has an abundance of confidence. Perhaps in Humans that is misinterpreted.”
“It’s either that or excessive friendliness to high-ranking officers,” Ghent murmured.
Frethan only laughed. “She has indeed made many friends—not just among the navigators, either.”
“You’ve had some time to observe her, now. Are you pleased?”
“Entirely! Her navigation skills are everything her records indicated. She can plot a time slip course faster than anyone on this ship. Her training skills are leadership level. She can even teach others how to train.”
Ghent leaned forward. “Elaborate, please.”
Frethan’s gaze wandered then returned. “Giddech has been training Eperia on advanced robotic techniques. She does fine with most of it, but has some problem areas. The equipment is of Human design, so I paired her with Kena. Giddech made one of his snide remarks about Eperia. Something he now seems to regret—for a change.”
Frethan shook his head as though still surprised over what had happened. “Kena responded by ordering him to train Eperia while she observed. She figured out that he had one of the controls configured for his own range of motion, rather than Eperia’s. It made her clumsy with certain actions.” Frethan mimicked a twisting motion with his hand that could only be completed by tilting his upper body as well. “Kena instructed him in recognizing physical restrictions and the finer points of robotics configuration. Then, she gave him a lesson in cultural perception. As is common for her race, Eperia is sensitive to the word must, particularly you must.”
“Ah, yes,” Ghent said. “It’s viewed as manipulative and autocratic.”
Frethan nodded. “Giddech gives instruction only with the phrase you must, never anything like you should or try this. Kena insisted that he rephrase every instruction.”
“Should I assume he now hates her?” Ghent asked.
“You would think so,” Frethan said, “but apparently not. She used her authority a few times to check that nasty tongue of his, but otherwise used a respectful tone while she taught him. She also corrected Eperia for taking offense over a cultural difference of expression. They had a rocky start, but Giddech did listen to her. And believe me, listening is not his strong point. After Kena dismissed him, she trained Eperia, who learned from her without any difficulty.”
“Excellent. It’ll be a shame,” Ghent teased, “to see her go when this mission is over. We’re unlikely to need so many navigators for the next.”
“I will find a way to keep her here.”
Ghent grinned and stretched his long arms. “When was all this?”
“Just this afternoon.”
“Were Hrndl or Krdn present?” At Frethan’s nod, Ghent asked, “Their reactions?”
Frethan stared over Ghent’s shoulder, almost as though watching a recording of his memory on the rock wall. “Nothing verbal. Hrndl looked over at them a few times. I can’t recall Krdn ever glancing their way.” He shook his head. “I’ve had to start watching his duty assignments. Everyone else, he pairs up efficiently, but he insists on giving Kena trivial, solo tasks. He’s not utilizing her skills.”
Chapter Eleven
Kena sat beside Frethan in the simulation room, monitoring results of the run she’d designed in the Human style of training, a sim peppered with random events. She glanced over at Frethan. He leaned back in his chair, smiling as usual. The cause right now, though, was the navigator response statistics rolling across the screen.
Kena studied the techniques revealed on the main screen, which was sectioned to mirror the displays from each of the simulation compartments that lined two sides of the long room. She sighed and shook her head.
“Your training scenarios are successful,” Frethan said. “There’s a noticeable improvement in high-stress response rates; but, unless I misread your expression, you’re not at all happy about it.”
Kena only shrugged.
He waved a hand at the screen. “This simulation is demanding, almost impossibly so, but they’re doing remarkably well in spite of the difficulty. They don’t have the reflexes of a Human, but the improvement rate is excellent.”
She nodded, but spoke in a flat voice. “True.”
“I’d expect you to be pleased. And so will they. Keep the importance of morale in mind when they come out of the simulators.”
She turned her chair toward him. “I’m not dissatisfied with anyone’s navigational skills, Frethan. It’s the way these sims are being used that worries me.”
