Diverse Demands Page 6

  “I don’t see how you could. I can’t,” she huffed. “I can give you word frequency statistics and usage patterns. I can even tell you how they specify identification.” She jabbed at a few buttons and pointed at her console screen. “This one must be Kena Talgarth. It’s in all the earliest messages. This one started appearing when Antony Galliano began his trip.” Her voice softened. “I love his second name. Galliano. It just glides over the tongue. It sounds like a Laundun name, doesn’t it?”

  “Yes, I thought so, too.”

  Her voice sharpened again. “But I can’t tell you what a single word means. This technology is for deciphering dead languages and digging up ancient history. But we need something to compare their language to…a key.” She spread her hands. “This is no way to learn a living language. We need a telepathic link.”

  “No chance of that happening,” a Laundun woman said. “Not after what Pernanyen did to Kena.”

  “She learned our language telepathically,” a scowling Laundun man said. “It’s not right that we can’t learn hers the same way.”

  “Not right?” VanDar’s square chin jutted forward. “That’s the least of the things that are not right.”

  Complaints gushed forth at VanDar’s triggering words. TarKeen listened in silence, noting the race of each speaker. All Laundun. Still focused on language, which apparently didn’t suit VanDar’s purpose. He tried to shift their direction again.

  “Which Travannesal of Frayunomen allowed,” VanDar declared, bracing his hands on his console. “That’s where the blame must fall.”

  “Calm down,” Laquelynn said. “Obviously, we want to know English. This is a room full of linguists, after all. But there’s no crime in allowing Humans to know the PitKreelaundun language.”

  “Crime? No, just stupidity.” VanDar’s sneer infected his voice. “And do you likewise see no crime in a non-completed constrained link? The perpetrator is even linking with someone else. Are these things not clearly against our law?”

  “Indeed, they are!” a dark-haired Laundun said.

  “There are extenuating circumstances.” Laundun again, but golden hair revealed his youth. “Another race is involved with a vastly different culture.”

  “Does that negate our law?” VanDar demanded. “Does that permit a Human to supersede our right to govern our own people? It does not!” VanDar let a heartbeat pass and lowered his voice. “And everyone on this ship knows it. Except the Frayunomen ruling family.”

  “Very dramatic, VanDar.” TarKeen’s calm voice acted like a splash of cold water on sunbaked basalt. “Yet, everyone does not agree with you. Including the majority of the primaries, who still support the Frayunomen decision. We wait longer than we like, but our law has not been negated. It will be enforced.”

  TarKeen turned back to Laquelynn. “I realize the challenge of breaking Human audio encryption, but I must ask. Is there any progress on that?”

  “Nothing significant,” she said.

  TarKeen stood and addressed them all. “I assure you, Travannesal understands the difficulty of your task and appreciates your diligent efforts.” He strode away, pondering the debate. VanDar’s comments were no surprise. But so many Laundun criticizing…Disturbing.

  TarKeen studied the composite scan results, superimposed over their course plan. They had just exited from dimensional slip to begin another risk assessment.

  A message appeared in his personal list. Travannesal summoned.

  TarKeen looked over the command room. More than half the staff was PitKree—an oddity seen only here, for PitKree comprised only 30 percent of the PitKreelaundun race. Did Leonfir think anything of the imbalance? This was the command room, after all. The one location from which every operation of the entire ship could be controlled.

  TarKeen located the watch officer on the far side of the room among the non-critical staff. “ParTan.”

  She straightened and turned to him.

  “You have command.” TarKeen soon reached the government suite. Two guards waited outside. Pernanyen must be here. He passed between them into the suite.

  Leonfir was seated beside Pernanyen on one of the two sofas, while Travannesal worked at a message console. Leonfir motioned TarKeen near. “Link with me for the ship report.”

  When they ended the link, Leonfir said, “Rialmerray complains that you disregard his analysis.”

  TarKeen turned his head leftward. “I told him to consider his audience and summarize tra-pentazine reports accordingly. Since he would prefer to expound his full knowledge on all occasions, he was offended.”

  Travannesal laughed. “Your chief of tra-pentazine protection seems convinced of his own importance.”

  “Fully convinced,” Leonfir said.

  “A common problem.” Travannesal set his console aside. “It’s interesting how professions attract certain personality types. Or perhaps, over-develop their common traits.”

  “Indeed.” TarKeen sat next to Travannesal, opposite Pernanyen.

  Her posture sagged as much as her expression. Her usual brave front faltered with increasing frequency. Was she even aware of their conversation?

  “Tell us, TarKeen,” Travannesal said. “What do you hear among the crew?”

  “Mostly what pertains to current activities. Some grumbling persists about the delay in Pernanyen’s and Kena’s constrained link.”

  At least Pernanyen lifted her eyes.

  “Less, the same, or more?” Travannesal asked.

  TarKeen let an instant pass. “More.”

  Travannesal turned to him. “Will you link with me? I’d like to see some of this.”

  TarKeen had an answer ready, for he could not risk revealing what he knew of VanDar. “I advise against that, sir. If it becomes known that I show you such conversations, I will never again hear more than you do.”

  “And yet,” Travannesal said, “anyone could show me a conversation at any time.”

  “True, but I’m all over the ship all day long. If you are interested in one of the strongest debates I’ve heard, you may want to ask Laquelynn about yesterday. Linking with her would occasion no surprise, for you’re interested in her work. By the way, her team is frustrated, so I took the liberty of telling them you appreciate their efforts.”

  That drew a faint smile from Travannesal. “Why not just show it to me yourself?”

  “Because VanDar was present. It has become…” TarKeen let a sneer form. “…impossible for me to give you an unbiased account of him.”

  Pernanyen stared at the floor again. “It’s a pity you think so poorly of him. He will likely be a primary member of government when Travannesal dies.”

  “Ma’am,” TarKeen said. He waited for her to meet his gaze. “Most firmly do I hope that the ruling families reinstate you as the Frayunomen heir after Kena returns to complete the constrained link.”

  Chapter Seven

  Antony shut down the vessel’s nav systems. He wanted to ask, Are we there yet? but no one would get the joke. They’d arrived at the Ontrevay an hour ago, but separating the supply modules had kept them outside. Until now. Would they ever get the all-clear from the support crew in external operations?

  Jorlit’s voice spoke over the comm system. “Pressurization is complete. Welcome to the Ontrevay.”

  “Thank you.” Antony reached across his console to open the hatch, the motion heavy and foreign within the Ontrevay’s gravitational field.

  “You’re just in time for third meal,” Jorlit said. “We have escorts for you.”

  Normal procedure after a month of zero gravity. Antony met Tevd’s gaze as they unbuckled, the straps falling rather than floating.

  “Well done, commander,” Tevd said.

  Antony smiled. “Thanks. Last time I’ll be hearing that title.” He reached for the pair of supple boots he’d tucked next to the pilot’s couch.

  “No, not the last time,” Tevd said. “Just a break in between.”

  “Hopefully a short break,” Theshai
n said. “I’d be happy to fly under your command anytime.”

  Farian stood, every motion deliberate. “Same for me.”

  A Dantokrellie stepped through the doorway from the lounge module. “Welcome. I’m Metchell, chief medical officer.”

  Introductions followed, no doubt the first of many. Metchell performed quick checks on the crew. Antony pulled on his cross-over jacket as his crew disembarked, then followed them from the vessel into the bay.

  More introductions. Antony took a quick look around. He’d brought only the nav and crew modules into the bay. A large craft rested beside his shortened vessel, and about thirty smaller craft were anchored along the walls, three levels high.

  A Tenelli approached, with a warm smile. Except for buff-colored, downy hair, he almost looked Human. “Antony, I’m Jorlit,” he said.

  “Jorlit,” Antony murmured, returning his smile.

  “How’s the gravity?”

  “Feels wonderful!”

  Jorlit chuckled. “Then, I’m guessing you were diligent with exercise.” As the group moved toward the exit, he stepped aside. “I’m still on duty, so I can’t join you yet, but I wanted a chance to meet you. Enjoy your meal.”

  A Veet named Quon took Jorlit’s place, equally free with his much broader smile. The welcome continued in the dining hall. Surprising. Not from the Tenelli, of course, but some of the other races were more inclined to stare sideways at Humans than welcome them.

  Most of Antony’s crew approached the sweet/sour buffet, though Drennan went with Metchell to the freth/prin selections.

  A Prednian, with the wide headband favored by cooks, hurried up to Antony, carrying a covered plate. “I’m Delatin, the chef,” he said, handing the plate to him. “You needn’t bother with the buffet. Kena ordered a meal for you.”

  “Thank you.”

  The chef pointed. “She’s over there.”

  Antony craned his neck to look past two Veet. Ah, there. Oh, wow! That smile and those eyes! She flicked a glance toward the empty chair opposite her, beckoning. An overdose of energy surged through him. Sure, he hadn’t seen a woman in a few months, but…that light in her eyes…had he ever seen that?

  “Antony, did you hear?” Tevd asked. “This is Delf. He invited us to join him.”

  Delf chuckled. “Too late. He just saw Kena.”

  Tevd glanced her way. “A long time this friendship lasted. One peek at a Human woman, and he deserts me.”

  Antony grinned. “Can you blame me. She is much prettier than you.” He didn’t wait for a response before heading to her table—not with her smile calling.

  She extended her hand to him. He took just the fingers and bowed over them. A fitting moment for the old, dramatic gesture that had come back into style on Earth.

  She laughed. Oh, sweet, lilting music in that sound.

  “Mark Antony Galliano,” she said, pronouncing his name in the European style. “I expected you to look at least a little Italian.”

  He chuckled. “But I do look a little Italian.” He set his plate before the one empty chair and glanced at those seated with her. All Grfdn. Another surprise, yet convenient for him.

  “Sit down, Antony,” Kena said, pronouncing his name with a long o. “I’ll introduce you.”

  Her charming European twist to his name brought Mary’s teasing voice to mind. He stuffed the thought and remembered Grfdn courtesy just in time. Looking to the one female, who sat beside Kena, he asked, “May I join you at meal?”

  She tilted her eyebrows up in the Grfdn version of a smile, which never involved their small mouths. “This is Kena’s table tonight, but I thank you for acknowledging our custom.”

  Her gruff voice gave the Prednian language a harsh accent, but he could understand her. A relief.

  He pulled the chair out and sat, his eyes drawn once more to Kena.

  “As I’m sure you have guessed,” Kena said, “this is Hrndl, our chief navigator.”

  He inclined his head. “Ma’am.” He took note of Kena’s pronunciation, mentally repeating it. Hurn-dul. Grfdn names were such a challenge.

  Kena nodded to the man next to Antony. “This is Dhgnr, chief engineer.”

  Dug-nur. Antony nodded. “Sir.”

  “Next to Hrndl is Frdn, in the communications profession,” Kena said, “and across from him is Rnl, in resource management.”

  Fru-dun and Ru-nul. More nods, though Rnl barely raised his eyes from his plate. Now, that was more what Antony expected.

  The others resumed eating, and Antony lifted the cover from his dinner. Steam rose, carrying the scent of steak. That green vegetable never grew on Earth, but were those actual potatoes? A moan rolled in his throat.

  Kena watched him, smiling again. “You seem to approve my choices.”

  “Entirely!” he said, taking up the knife and fork.

  Kena reached for a pitcher of water on a narrow tray. She filled his glass while he consumed the closest thing to meat he’d eaten in months. As he relished it, that central tray caught his eye. Another surprise, for it held traditional Grfdn drinking pouches. The cones appeared to be made from pale animal skin, probably synthesized. A darker tip hid the valve, which only opened with a sucking motion. The pouches’ resemblance to Human female anatomy sometimes caused offense, but Kena didn’t seem to care when Dhgnr picked one up and drank from it. A broad-minded woman.

  Antony swallowed and took a sip from his glass. “This is so much better than the synthesizer fare of the past month. Many thanks.”

  “Kena,” Hrndl said, “what did you say when you first spoke to him? Did you add a title to his name?”

  “I said his full name—more than you need use.” She speared a slice of fruit, holding the fork left-handed in the European style. “I also mentioned the country from which it derives.”

  Hrndl sighed. “I thought I had practiced it well enough.”

  “I never use the first name,” Antony said. “I answer to either Antony or Galliano, whichever is easier for you to pronounce.”

  “Mark is easiest,” Frdn said, though he pronounced it as murk. “Why don’t you use it?”

  “There’s an old Human tradition of inheriting names,” Antony said. “so I have the same name as my father. In common usage, he is called Mark, and I am called Antony.”

  “Are you a junior,” Kena asked.

  He smirked. “I used to be. That had to change.”

  “Why?”

  “If you think my name is confusing to non-Humans now, you should have heard the variations that came from four names. Particularly, since Junior comes last.”

  Kena grinned. “Were you called Junior.”

  “That’s not the worst of it,” he said. “My name was originally Anthony. Some non-humans who struggle with th, pronounce it as ts. The day I was addressed as Ants-knee Junior, I decided I had to make a change.”

  Kena laughed, just as he’d hoped. He grinned at her and took another bite of steak. Hrndl exchanged a look with Dhgnr, her eyebrows tilting up again.

  “Ah, well,” Kena said, “I’ve always preferred Antony over Anthony.”

  “So glad you approve.” Antony winked. “Where are you from, Kena? Your profile says you’re American, but that’s not where you learned to pronounce my name.”

  “I have dual citizenship: America through my mother and England through my father.”

  “Ah. Which parent is the globe-wanderer?”

  “More like galaxy-wanderers.” She tucked a wayward lock of light brown hair behind her ear. “They met on a Tenelli spaceship.”

  He paused with a potato wedge halfway to his mouth. “They must have been among the first.”

  “Not quite, but very early. My father quips that he had to search the galaxy to find the perfect wife.”

  Antony grinned.

  Frdn leaned inward from the opposite end of the table. “Excuse me,” he said, “but you’ve used some words that aren’t Prednian. Are they place names?”

  Kena pulled her compu
ter from her belt. To Antony, she said, “Frdn has an interest in language.” As she spoke, she opened her computer enough to expose the projection lens. An image of Earth hovered above it and she pointed out places she had mentioned. “Antony has a paternal ancestor from Italy, which is here. Where else, Antony?”

  “India.”

  She pointed to it. “That explains your coloring and perhaps those brown eyes.

  Frdn looked up from the miniature Earth. “Pronunciation, though—can you determine locations from that alone?”

  “No. just hints.” He turned back to Kena. “I suppose it would be rude here, but I can’t wait to get you alone and hear some English. Have you a British accent?”

  “Not so much, though it fires up when I land in England. When I was young, we spent a month of every year there.”

  “Where in America did you grow up?”

  “On the shore of a Minnesota lake,” she said, indicating location on the projection again. “You?”

  He flipped his fork to point with the handle. “Born near New Atlanta, Georgia. Moved to the Missouri Ozarks when I was twelve.”

  Her eyes crinkled at the corners. “How much of that Georgia accent did you keep?”

  He leaned back and altered his Prednian enunciation to mimic a southern drawl. “I speak clear English with all of Dixie. It’s you northerners who have an accent.”

  Grfdn eyes widened, but Kena let out a peal of laughter. Antony savored its lilting rise and fall. A long-dead joy stirred in him, and he joined her with a deep chuckle. Hrndl tilted her eyes high. Kena leaned forward, her face in her hands and shoulders shaking.

  “What was that?” Hrndl asked.

  “Just a little incongruity,” Antony said. “Prednian, flavored with speech patterns of what we call the deep south.”

  Kena leaned back, stifling giggles as she spoke. “Oh, that was delightful!”

  “Needed a laugh, did you?” They reached for their water glasses at the same moment. He touched the rim of his glass to hers. “To many more.” After draining it, he refilled first her glass, then his, emptying the pitcher.