Diverse Similarity

by Sharon Rose

  In a couple minutes, Ghent’s voice came over the comm channel. “Support has arrived. Frethan, you’re clear to launch.”

  A small craft entered Kena’s scans. Frethan’s years of experience were obvious. He made it look easy to intercept the sensor, capture it in an energy field, stop its spin, and transfer it to a robotic arm.

  As Frethan turned his course back toward the Ontrevay, Delf reported his status. “Repairs complete except for that last piece.”

  “Get back inside, Delf,” Frethan said. “I can set this one myself.”

  The minutes ticked by. Kena heard the external communications but paid little heed. Awareness of critical points was enough. Delf had brought his craft in. Ghent had sent the crew to astro for additional scanning support. Frethan was almost finished. Kena rolled her shoulders, but kept her eyes on her display.

  She and Netlyn focused entirely on scanning for near, high-mass objects. No more had appeared. Impossible to relax, though. Explosives encountered near the PitKreelaundun border usually occurred in clusters. Kena stretched her neck from side to side. Only one today, it seemed. Frethan was heading back to the bay, passing between the Ontrevay and a large rock on a stable trajectory. She’d already analyzed it and found no risk. Wait—what now?

  “Mass variations.” Kena said, highlighting the rock on the display. “It’s close, but not on strike—”

  The rock exploded. Debris hammered Frethan’s craft. It slammed sideways against the Ontrevay’s hull shield with a neck-snapping jerk.

  Chapter Fourteen

  Kena gasped. The shock of the explosion was nothing compared to Frethan’s silent cry. His emfrel surged into her mind then faded with equal speed. She pursued his failing essence and surrounded the last feeble spark of his life energy.

  Ghent’s voice demanded Frethan’s status. No reply came over the comm system.

  Kena tracked Frethan’s craft on her display as she steadied herself and extended telepathic energy. She felt him—barely. No thought, no sensation. Nothing beyond existence. His craft spun, sidewinding away from the Ontrevay.

  “Frethan, report your status,” Ghent said again.

  The words should be as clear in Frethan’s craft as they were in nav command. Kena strained to hear them through his ears. Still nothing.

  Ghent kept trying. “Frethan, I’m not receiving your answer. Ensure your comm channel is open.”

  There. A fragment of the sentence reached Kena through Frethan’s awareness. Confusion swirled within him, and she lost the sliver of telepathic contact.

  “Kena, what’s going on,” Hrndl said, her voice hushed.

  Ah, Hrndl was aware. Kena’s shoulders relaxed a tad. “Get me a remote nav communication beam,” she whispered, not wanting even her own voice to interfere while she struggled to sense anything Frethan might hear.

  Hrndl’s hands flew over her console, while Kena tracked Frethan’s craft. Its tumble rate increased, with most nav jets still operational—under no one’s control.

  Ghent’s tone changed with each statement. No longer a rapid demand, it now directed with slow, firm patience. “Frethan, I’m not receiving communication. Shut down all of your navigation jets.”

  An echo of the words reached Kena through Frethan. Confusion overwhelmed their meaning. And pain. He slipped away from her again.

  The craft’s spin grew ever more unstable, impossible to catch through robotics. Kena fidgeted in her seat, aware of Hrndl’s scrutiny.

  “Frethan, shut down all of your nav jets,” Ghent said.

  Kena detected Ghent’s words through Frethan’s awareness, along with his hammering pulse. She pushed her own perception of those words through his confusion and spoke telepathically to him. Frethan, I am Kena. Link with me. Link with me!

  Frethan finally turned his attention to her, puzzled but willing. She embraced him, feather-soft, establishing and sustaining the link with her own energy. She exhaled with a faint whisper. “I have him.”

  Kena jabbed the configuration controls. Her console re-formed to the specifications of Frethan’s craft.

  Hrndl’s fingers still moved over her console, as confident as her low, calm voice. “The comm beam is ready. I’ll coordinate for you. I saw the record from when you did this before.”

  One less thing to worry about. Kena held her focus against the confusion, pain, nausea, and fear muddling Frethan’s mind. She channeled comfort to him. You will only rest and watch. Nothing else. I will navigate and bring you in.

  Kena’s remote controls activated. She urged Frethan to look at his displays so she could confirm her ability to pilot his craft.

  His gaze settled first on his hands floating before his chest, the fingers curled and relaxed as though he slept. She sensed his knowledge of paralysis, his belief that it was temporary, and a transient thought about his spinal sheathe—whatever that was.

  She needed focus. Look at the console, Frethan.

  He lifted his eyes, the tiny movement sending pain through Kena’s senses. His temples throbbed with his pulse, making her head twitch. At least he knew what she was doing and forced his eyes to follow her suggestion.

  She chose an insignificant control and operated it, watching Frethan’s view to validate the result. Hrndl’s communication beam was spot on.

  A smile reached her lips. She whispered, “Control confirmed.”

  Hrndl opened a comm channel to ex op command. “Frethan is alive. Kena has control of his craft. I am coordinating.”

  Kena shut down his thrusters and slowed the roll with others. She turned the craft’s trajectory back toward the Ontrevay.

  Hrndl adjusted the communication beam to match. She lost it once, but recovered in seconds.

  This was tricky work. All operations must be smooth and balanced so loss of control wouldn’t mean disaster. Kena selected a consistent arc for the course. Most would have chosen a straight path, but that would require a course correction, increasing the risk of communication failure.

  Kena relaxed despite her intense concentration. She had the course exactly the way she wanted it. Through her link with him, she framed peaceful words. Not long now. You’re almost in.

  His emotion brushed her mind—relief, trust, fondness? Warmth flooded her.

  Krdn frowned at his displays, his shoulders tightening. Kena was down to the easy part. Why did she maintain this curve instead of straightening it out? Beyond doubt, she wanted to impress them all with how well she handled complexity.

  His fingers extended with his longing for access to Frethan’s controls. He dared not interrupt, but—there must be something else he could do. An energy field with a tenuous surface deployed on the outside edge of the curve? The craft would drag and straighten its course. He’d have to hurry with the calculations. That craft was too close for safety with this curved course.

  His haste introduced a flaw. The field’s surface was too dense, and Frethan’s craft didn’t drag. It bounced. It struck the edge of the open bay doors, and the weakened hull split.

  Peace turned to horror, giving Kena only an instant to grasp that something was terribly wrong. She had no time to respond. A strangled cry escaped her as Frethan’s hull crumpled. He would die! Frethan’s awareness mirrored hers, and he severed the link to spare her his death throes. But the vacuum was faster than he. She felt the air savagely rip from his lungs as he jerked himself from her mind. Kena went rigid, certain she would never inhale again.

  Hrndl swung around to Krdn. “What…have…you…done?”

  “You could see how curved her course was. I had to put up a field to straighten it.”

  Hrndl rose from her seat like a cat stalking prey. “Had to? You had to? I was coordinating. Her course was balanced and stable. Your field threw it off. You killed Frethan!”

  Their words intertwined with the shock and grief paralyzing Kena’s mind.

  Krdn’s grating voice ended a tense pause. “How could I kill someone who was already dead? He never responded to us in any way.
Kena’s heroics were a showy waste of time.”

  Hrndl gasped. “Kena felt him alive.”

  “She couldn’t have. Not at that distance.”

  Hrndl drew back from him as though he carried a contagious disease. “You fool! She was linked with him, and you didn’t even know it.”

  “Impossible. Humans aren’t telepathic. Frethan was dead. Get back to your console.”

  Dead? Krdn’s words drove a spike into Kena’s anguish. The last moments of Frethan’s life remained precious within her. Krdn discarded them. Dishonored them. As though Frethan’s life were of no value at all. She ground two words through her constricted throat. “He lived.”

  “You have no proof,” Krdn said.

  Heat surged through Kena. She jerked herself up, barely getting her feet beneath her. She braced herself against the couch with a white-knuckled grip and took her first full breath. “He lived!” she shouted.

  Ghent burst into nav command with Metchell close behind, just as Krdn demanded, “Prove to us that he lived.”

  “Silence!” Ghent ordered.

  Kena’s pulse hammered, drowning out Ghent’s voice. She staggered toward Krdn, determined to make him acknowledge Frethan’s life. Something was in her way. She sidestepped—struggled to get past. She couldn’t see what blocked her. It was lost in the nothingness beyond the shifting tunnel to Krdn. She wouldn’t lose sight of him, though. She would make him admit Frethan had lived. Her entire body shuddered.

  She tried to shout. “He lived!” It came out strangled. “I was with him. I felt the vacuum—rip the air from his lungs.”

  Hrndl and Metchell strove to support and restrain Kena. She drew loud, rasping breaths. Her knees wobbled, but still she struggled forward.

  Hrndl kicked an empty couch around and tried to guide Kena toward it. “Sit down, Kena. Just bend your legs, and we’ll get you onto the couch.”

  “I doubt she can hear you,” Metchell said, clutching Kena’s arm as she swayed. “She’s in sairital shock.”

  Kena’s legs collapsed, and she lurched hard against Hrndl’s chest. Hrndl dropped to her knees and prevented Kena from hitting the floor. She grabbed Kena in a bear hug, pinning her arms to her sides. Kena struggled, but Hrndl held fast.

  Metchell inserted a drug tube into a mask and placed it over Kena’s nose and mouth. She drew another rasping breath then grew still. Her eyes stared blankly. She let out a gentle breath, and her body relaxed in Hrndl’s arms. Together, they laid her on the floor. Metchell removed the mask and reached for another instrument.

  Hrndl gazed at Kena’s inanimate face, only vaguely aware of Metchell’s actions. Frethan dead. Kena injured from the link. It was dreadful—unbearable. She narrowed her eyes then flashed them to Krdn’s rigid face. In an instant, she was on her feet, advancing on him. “I’ll kill you!”

  “You will not. You will return to your console and follow Ghent’s orders.”

  Hrndl turned and stared at Dhgnr. When had he come to nav command? He stood beside the directive console, his expression unyielding, a nerve wand in his hand. Her chest tightened. The Grfdn khn actually had to come to nav command—with a weapon—to get the situation under control. She’d been so enmeshed in the drama, she’d lost touch. Had Ghent issued orders? Or spoken to her? Hiding her shame, she pulled her couch around and plopped into it.

  How could this have happened? Krdn! She’d wanted him for her mate. Now he had violated coordination, injured a senior navigator, and killed their chief navigator. Her stomach roiled, forcing bile to the back of her throat. His execution could not happen quickly enough. Oh, in one dreadful second, they’d lost three navigators. The three best. And her mate—she had lost her mate!

  Dhgnr growled one word in his own language. Hrndl suppressed a cringe as he took Krdn out. The vacant consoles on either side of her shouted a silent emptiness. Ghent helped to lift Kena and settle her in Metchell’s arms—her body so limp. The door slid open, then closed, as Metchell carried Kena out. Hrndl shuddered.

  Ghent rested a hand on her shoulder. He leaned over and spoke into her ear. “Your coordination with Kena was admirable. We need you now—even more than she did. Can you continue?”

  Hrndl inhaled, straightened her back, and answered with tight control. “Yes.”

  Chapter Fifteen

  Every muscle in Kena’s body shook in violent spasms as her mind plummeted into the past. Searing pain tore through her throat. Air ripped from her lungs as Frethan’s life ripped from her mind. Limbo swallowed up place, movement, and air. She couldn’t react—only exist in agonized grief.

  Distant words intruded, bringing her back into herself. Challenging words. Denying the existence of Frethan’s precious life. Rage consumed her. She would make him unsay those vile words!

  But she couldn’t reach him. They held her from him. Confusion swirled. Why was she on her back? She thrust again. No hands held her. An energy restraint pinned her. Time and location disassociated, then reassembled into now. Her eyes batted open. She wasn’t in nav command.

  Metchell’s voice grounded her. “Kena, you are in medical section. Relax.” He touched her arm, and it spasmed. His fingers wrapped her wrist. “I’m inserting an IV. Relax.”

  Her pulse throbbed, and her breath panted. She fought the restraints. “He will not say Frethan didn’t live. His life was precious. I won’t let him diminish it. Not even one second. I won’t let him!”

  Metchell massaged the center of her forehead. “Frethan lived. We valued him greatly. You are in shock. You need to rest.”

  The drug he’d administered took effect. Her muscles refused the struggle she demanded of them. Metchell’s hands moved, touching pressure points at the sides of her head and neck, then down to knead her shoulders. His gaze was fixed on a medical monitor. She didn’t care what he saw there. Her condition meant nothing, for Frethan was…was…

  “Frethan!” she whispered. Her breathing grew labored; she squeezed her eyes closed. She uttered an anguished cry. Her breath rushed out, but she could not inhale. The anguish ended abruptly, and her rigid body went limp on the couch. Sobs shook her chest.

  A soft cloth wiped away her tears. “Look at me, Kena,” Metchell said.

  She gasped the sobs down and tried to still her trembling chin, as she turned unwilling eyes to his face. Gentle concern creased his brow.

  He pressed the cloth to the outside corner of her eye, capturing another tear before it reached her hairline. “I know this is difficult, but don’t despair.” He firmed his changeable tone. “You will recover.” His voice gentled again. “Rest, now.”

  Hrndl tossed and turned through an endless night then woke exhausted. She dragged herself out of bed, dressed by rote, and ran a brush through her chestnut hair. The mirror, she avoided. Her stomach rumbled. Would she be able to stand the dining hall? All those people asking questions—or avoiding asking questions. Probably not.

  Her computer beeped its command signal. She picked it up and read the message. A summons to Ghent’s consult room.

  Hrndl kept her gaze on the floor as she hurried past crew members in the hallway. She reached Ghent’s door at the same moment as Metchell. His eyelids drooped—a long night for him, too? The door slid open before she could ask about Kena. She entered then halted so quick that Metchell brushed against her back. Krdn!

  He sat rigid at one end of Ghent’s curved table, his eyes on the granite surface. Ghent watched her from his large chair. To his left, Dhgnr leaned against the wall near Krdn.

  Dhgnr held Hrndl’s gaze for a moment. Then, his eyes moved to the chair at the far end of the table and back to her face. She suppressed her loathing and took the chair Dhgnr had indicated. At least it was the farthest from Krdn.

  Ghent waited until Metchell sat between the two Grfdn before asking, “What is Kena’s condition?”

  “She experienced a portion of Frethan’s death throes,” Metchell said. “Fortunately, the link was broken before the instant of his death. She’ll recover, but s
he needs rest. I have her sedated. She’ll be awake tomorrow, but I’ll be keeping her deeply relaxed. If her recovery proceeds well, she may be able to take light duty by the next day.”

  Ghent let out a sigh. “That’s a relief. What are the chances of a relapse?”

  “Always a possibility with this type of injury,” Metchell said, turning his head. “It’ll take some time to determine just how much of a problem that will be. Often, a point of fixation can trigger re-experience of the trauma. I already know what that point is, so it should be easy to avoid.”

  “How can you know so soon?” Ghent asked.

  “She’s had several nightmares. She woke from each with one thing in mind: Krdn challenging the time of Frethan’s death. It triggered re-experience every time. I’ve been able to stop the nightmare recurrence, but…” Metchell turned to Krdn. His tone altered, implacable and harsh. “I do not ever want to hear anyone question whether Frethan was still alive when his craft ruptured.”

  “How convenient for her,” Krdn said.

  Hrndl quivered, her fists clenching. How dare he! She tensed to attack, but subsided when Dhgnr pulled his nerve wand from his belt.

  With an almost hopeful sneer, he thumbed the release, and the flexible rod extended a half-meter from the grip, humming with its charge—a charged that sensitized nerve endings with every stroke.

  Krdn’s gaze followed Dhgnr warily. How stiff he sat, his torso well away from the back rest. Ah! Dhgnr had already beaten him. Hrndl gloated. She could wait.

  “Respectfully, sir,” Krdn said, “I am within my rights. If I am to be charged with the crime of causing Frethan’s death, it is necessary to prove he was alive. The only person who claims to have had contact with him cannot be questioned. It can be argued that this particular fixation is assumed. Her distress could simply be an example of the intense emotional responses Humans are known to experience.”