Diverse Similarity Read online

  Ghent ground his voice to the low pitch a Grfdn could understand. “I can say it because I considered her state before I judged. Her condition is explained in her duty restrictions, yet you seem ignorant of it. In spite of exhaustion, she scanned thoroughly and laid out a flawless course. Her acclimation to my race is incomplete and more than accounts for her difficulties after I arrived. Do you have any other comment to make on her performance?”

  “I stand corrected.”

  Ghent held his rigid posture. “So you say, but I doubt you believe it. Report to my consult room. Frethan, take charge here while I educate Krdn on the duties of second navigator.”

  Hrndl made quick eye contact with Krdn as he entered the dining hall for third meal. Had he been with Ghent all this time? Just how bad had it been? Ghent was a reasonable captain, but he could make his displeasure felt.

  Krdn served himself from the buffet and joined the three Grfdn at their reserved table. As usual, his expression revealed nothing. His upper face lacked the creases of most Grfdn, giving him a passionless demeanor. She knew better.

  Hrndl didn’t bother to hide her scowl. Rumors had spread of the happenings in nav command. Yet another irritant—as though yesterday’s were not enough.

  A Prednian crewmember dropped a stool at the end of the table, ignoring due courtesy. He sat down, propped his elbows on the table, and rested his chin on his interlocked fingers. Hrndl exchanged a look with Krdn, but the Prednian only grinned and said, “Do tell. What really happened with our new senior navigator?”

  “Nothing of interest,” Krdn said.

  Their uninvited guest laughed and turned his round eyes to her. “You were there, Hrndl. What happened?”

  She glared at the awkward cylinder she’d been drinking from—a reminder of every unpalatable word Ghent had uttered when he summoned the Grfdn yesterday. Now she had to listen to fools mocking her intended mate. She would need to work closely with that pathetic Human, while idiots extolled her fabulous skills. Hrndl’s throat tightened, almost causing her breath to rumble. Those skills were useful only if Kena worked alone. Coordination with Humans was impossible. So obvious, but these imbeciles couldn’t see it. She longed to explain this with the precision of a laser knife, but Ghent’s warning was fresh in her mind. She must watch every word.

  Hrndl kept her voice level as Krdn had. “She came to nav command unfit for duty. Why, I don’t know. I can only assume she didn’t realize her own state. After working for a while, her condition deteriorated. Krdn ordered her out as soon as he could. It’s as simple as that.” She brought her eyes up to meet his. “Now that you know, we would like to eat without you reclining on our table.”

  At least that got rid of the nosy Prednian, but there was no telling when she’d have to deal with more. As if on cue, Rnl launched a complaint about the gossip. Hrndl let the rumble in her throat reach audible level.

  “Again?” Krdn said to Rnl. “Is it really that difficult for you to know when to hold silence?”

  Rnl glared at Krdn, but to Hrndl’s relief, didn’t respond. It never ended well for him, and Krdn had been ruthless the past few weeks.

  She glanced at Frdn. He made eye contact with no one and didn’t open his lips for anything but food. Not surprising, all things considered. This meal couldn’t end fast enough. As soon as she swallowed her last bite, she stood to leave.

  Krdn watched Hrndl rush through her generous meal, ensuring that he finished at the same moment. He followed her from the dining hall and matched her pace. She hadn’t quite reached the stage of needing a mate, but the time neared. She would choose him—he would make that a certainty.

  At least the hurried meal spared him the company of Dhgnr. He had entered on the far side of the dining hall, but lingered to talk with some engineers. His one piercing glance at Krdn boded nothing good. Dhgnr’s rank in the Collaborative equaled Krdn’s, but within their own race he bore the title of khn. If he tried to attract Hrndl, he could prove a significant rival. The other two men weren’t a concern. Rnl was a fool, and Frdn a child. They could not compete with him, and he made sure they knew it, lest they intrude during these moments he contrived to be alone with Hrndl.

  This evening should have been like any other, but he could think of nothing to say. His lengthy session with Ghent would not be a topic—that much was beyond doubt.

  Hrndl held silence only until they turned down an empty hallway. The low growl of a Grfdn obscenity merged into words. “Is it too much to ask? To drink with my meal? I could strangle Rnl for objecting when Ghent said not to use drinking pouches in Kena’s presence. What good of that?”

  “We can always count on Rnl to say the wrong thing.”

  “Now, Ghent insists we drink from those awful cylinders even when she’s not there. And do not dare say it’s for practice. It’s totally unreasonable. Water dribbles out the sides every time I try. Humiliating! I look no better than those other slobs in the dining hall.”

  Krdn drew her into an empty common room. “I know. It’s hard for me, too.” He moved nearer and caressed the fine line of her narrow lips with a fingertip. “With your charming, tiny mouth, it must be even worse for you. Be patient. I’ll convince Ghent that we be allowed to drink from pouches again.”

  She sighed and flopped down onto a lounge. “I’m too heated, beyond doubt. What an awful way to start a mission.”

  Just as well that she retracted, for he had no intention of talking to Ghent about it. His single goal was to be chosen as her mate; he would say whatever pleased her.

  Hrndl rolled her shoulders, as though she couldn’t get the muscles to release.

  He moved behind her and massaged, feeling for the hard cords within her back and working them loose. Excellent. No need to talk or guard his expression. A perfect way to get her comfortable with his touch.

  Hrndl let a sigh drift out with no trace of a rumble. She stretched her slender legs and turned her delicately formed feet. As pretty as the rest of her, right up to the glossy chestnut hair that stirred at his breath. Better yet, she was as intelligent as she was beautiful. Her skill demanded the respect of other navigators, and her Grfdn social position exceeded his own. Becoming her mate could only add to his consequence. He would let nothing come between them.

  Chapter Five

  Ghent contacted Metchell over the communication system the next morning. “Is Kena adequately rested?” he asked as he secured the strap of his shirt.

  “I believe so,” Metchell’s voice answered from overhead. “I’ve told her to spend most of the day in her quarters, but I’m really just trying to keep things low key for her.” His voice softened. “Let’s try this. You avoid navigational emergencies today, and I’ll avoid publicly criticizing you for having contact with her.”

  Ghent smiled. “That almost sounds contrite, but don’t worry about it. What you blurted out was actually useful to me. I’ll notify all debris to stay out of our path today.”

  “Excellent. I take it, you’re about to go see her?”

  “Yes,” Ghent said, pulling his stretchy, grip-soled footwear on.

  “A few short visits would be better than a single long one. Let me know if she seems unduly stressed.”

  Ghent reached for the palm-sized computer, which he always carried, but rarely used. “I will.”

  Kena leaned her folded arms on the round table in her sitting room. A real, paper book lay open before her. The only one she brought on her travels. Smooth hair hung forward as she read; the ends curved inward, almost touching beneath her chin. Plynteth emfrel sifted into her awareness. Her eyes lifted to the door.

  Seconds later, Ghent requested entry. She slid her hand lovingly across the page before pushing the book aside. Steeling herself for the encounter, she accessed room controls from her computer and opened the door.

  Ghent paused to look around, the corners of his mouth lifting. “You’ve improved these quarters immeasurably.”

  She managed a tight smile in spite of his intense emfrel
. “Thank you.”

  Ghent turned in a circle, examining the décor. It gave her opportunity to study him. His shirt, designed in the Plynteth fashion, wrapped only his chest and lower back with a thin strap around his neck. Nothing more was needed—fur covered his back and broad shoulders, ending near his elbows. His powerful build made up for what he lacked in height.

  “This mixture of colors,” he said, “what do they convey to a Human?”

  “An ocean beach.” Kena leaned back in her chair. “The carpet is the color of sand, and the couch and chairs match the rocks on my favorite shoreline. The tables are re-formed to the texture of driftwood.”

  The fur of his brow puckered.

  Oh yeah—Plynteth’s water was almost entirely underground. “That’s wood that has floated in the ocean and been driven ashore by waves.” She pointed at ceiling and walls as she described hues. “This blue is one of the lighter shades of the Terran sky. The aqua is shallow waters, the richer blue, deep water. Accent colors are from shellfish. The audio is waves on sand and bird calls.”

  “Who designed this?” Ghent asked.

  “I did.”

  “So, you are an artist as well as a navigator.”

  Kena tilted her head. “Why do you say that?”

  “If you wanted to see the ocean, you could have simply displayed recorded images. You could have seen the waves as well as heard them. But you designed this instead.”

  She smiled. “So I did. What do your walls display?”

  “Plynteth canyons. You may see them this evening.” Still he waited near the door. “You’ve endured me for a few minutes now. How bad is it today?”

  “Better than yesterday.”

  “May I sit down?”

  An odd request, coming from anyone not born on Earth. She gestured to a chair across the table. “Please do.”

  He took the chair, but said nothing else.

  Silence—more uncomfortable than his emfrel. All she could come up with was, “What did you want to see me about?”

  “Nothing. We’ll call it a social visit, even though it has another obvious purpose.”

  She tilted her head.

  His brow puckered again, as though he was trying to figure her out. “Perhaps I should mention that I never intended to place you in a stressful situation and then distract you with my emfrel. I was planning something more like this, where we could just talk.”

  “Oh.” What was she supposed to talk about?

  He filled the gap. “You’re interested in racial differences, I gather?”

  “Quite so.”

  “By now, you know it isn’t just my emfrel that’s unusual. Plynteth have the dubious distinction of being the furriest intelligent race.”

  Well, at least he had a sense of humor. She relaxed. “Human males hold second place. They have thick facial hair.”

  “I’ve seen pictures of that, but the males I’ve met had shaved their”—he paused then spoke her native word, for which the Prednian language had no counterpart—“beards. Did I say that correctly?”

  She nodded. “I’m told that shaving reduces shocked stares. As a matter of fact, I’m pretty accustomed to being stared at, too.”

  “I doubt you’re accustomed to this,” he said, extending one arm and resting it, palm upward, on the table.

  “Indeed not,” she said, examining his wrist.

  Among the biped races, hand structure varied, most often in the number of fingers. A few races even had two thumbs, but none were as unique as a Plynteth hand. Four fingers, with a gap between the middle two. No thumb. Instead, the center of Ghent’s thick wrist displayed a patch of loose skin pulled inward, no doubt concealing his shurg—a retractable digit directly opposite the fingers.

  “There are so many stories,” Ghent said, “so we prefer to simply show it. That way, people don’t have to bother trying to hide their curiosity.”

  He gave his hand a quick jerk. The shurg shot out of the indentation and met the fingertips. A thick muscle rose up along the length of his forearm as he tightened his fist, lending credibility to the Plynteth’s reputed strength.

  Kena blinked. “It doesn’t…”

  “Doesn’t what?”

  “Appear to be jointed,” she finished, hoping her observation didn’t offend.

  “No, it has no bones. Only muscle with specialized tendons.” He moved it as he spoke, showing its flexibility. “Our hands cause more consternation than any other feature. That’s partly because of how quickly our shurgs extend. Most races interpret a swift, grabbing motion as aggression. Innate interpretations of body language are hard to overcome, even with education.” His voice quieted a bit. “Then, there are the reports of Plynteth accidentally breaking bones when grasping a non-Plynteth.”

  “Has that ever happened to you?” Kena asked.

  A corner of his mouth twisted downward. “You had to ask me that. Long ago, during adolescence. I grabbed the arm of a Meklehon child as she slipped and fell. Her parents forgave me because the fall would have killed her. But feeling her bones snap—and her scream—not a pleasant memory. I assure you, I’ve been very careful ever since. In fact, when I am going to spend extensive time with someone, I usually take the precaution of learning how much pressure they can comfortably tolerate. We do have very precise control, once we know how much force is appropriate.”

  “I’ve heard of the Plynteth doing this.” It seemed unnecessary, but if it was significant to him, fine. She extended her arm, laying it between his hands.

  He used the hand with the retracted shurg to grasp her wrist.

  Despite his previous demonstration, the sudden clench startled her. She uttered a wry laugh and said, “Obviously, Humans are one of those races who interpret that as aggression.”

  “That’s not my intent. Please tell me when it begins to get uncomfortable. And I do mean begins.”

  Her fingers curled to her palm as his grip slowly tightened. His shurg fit neatly into the gap between his fingers. “You’re cutting off my circulation,” she said.

  He released her at once, and she extended her fingers. Blood rushed back into them, and the tingling subsided.

  “It’s not hard to imagine how you could break a wrist.”

  “I will not do so.” The fur on his brow puckered.

  She softened her words. “I didn’t think you would. I was merely commenting on your strength.”

  He gave her a quick nod then gestured to her book. “What is this?”

  How abrupt! Kena drew a breath and adjusted. “To give you the English word, it is a book.”

  “The ancient Human method of storing writings?”

  Kena relaxed against the chair back. “Ah, you’ve studied my culture beyond the standard information. It’s not so ancient, really. Some paper books are still made, though most writings are stored in electronic format.”

  “How did you learn to read? From a book or a display?”

  “In formal education,” she said, “we use displays.”

  “Then, don’t you find it awkward to read from this?”

  “Not in the least. I’ve been surrounded by books my entire life.”

  “I’ve never heard a Human language spoken,” Ghent said, “other than a few individual words. Will you read some of this to me?”

  How different he was from any other captain she’d had. She pulled the book toward her. “This is poetry written, oh, about 3,000 years ago. It’s translated to a language called English.

  ‘Oh Lord, you search me out and know me.

  You know when I sit and when I stand.

  You understand my thoughts, even from a distance.

  You surround my journeys through the day and my bed through the night,

  And are intimately acquainted with all of my ways.

  Even before a word leaves my tongue, you my Lord, fully comprehend it.

  You encompass me, behind and before, and cover me with your protective hand.

  Such infinite knowledge is too wondro
us for me.

  It is lofty.

  I cannot fathom it.

  ‘Where could I go to be separated from your Spirit?

  Where could I run to escape your presence?

  If I ascend to the stars, you are there.

  If I descend deep within the earth, you are there.

  If I ride the wings of the dawn’s brilliant light,

  Even there your hand guides me and your right hand supports me.

  If I think that darkness will obscure me, or the void will swallow all light,

  Even these cannot hide me from you.

  Your light shines ever on,

  A radiance surpassing both day and night.’”

  Kena closed the book and looked up at Ghent. He watched her intently but did not speak.

  “Well,” she said after a moment, “what do you think of English?”

  He took his time answering. “Its sounds are rich, and its cadence pleasant. Yet I suspect that the meaning of the words is far lovelier than their sound. Your expression is remarkably altered.”

  Her smile grew deeper. “I am quite fond of this poem. I’m a little surprised, though, that you like English. It’s so dissimilar to your native language.”

  His eyes half closed then widened. She committed the unfamiliar expression to memory while waiting for the first hint of its meaning.

  “I admit that is odd. I can’t explain it, even to myself.” He hesitated again. “I understand it can be difficult with poetry, but could you translate the passage?”

  She scanned the page. “The words are figurative, and some concepts are uniquely Human. Perhaps this part—which, by the way, causes it to be called the Navigator’s Poem.”

  If I ascend to the stars, you are there.

  If I descend deep within the earth, you are there.

  If I ride the wings of the dawn’s brilliant light,

  Even there your hand guides me and your right hand supports me.