His fingers dug in, a further sign of emotion, I concluded, rather than any intention to cause me pain. Still, I winced and Ragem released his grip, the skin of his face going from pale to a warm flush. His expression remained furious. "Skalet arranged for me to come on her ship—" I began, only to be interrupted.
"That's another thing. Who knows what story she concocted to get on Kearn's good side? You don't. But it must have been something. None of us can believe the Trium Set's captain isn't at least going to be questioned for misuse of an emergency distress call." He took a deep breath and said in a more reasonable tone, "I don't like this, Esen. I don't trust it."
To be truthful, I was quite curious myself how Skalet had managed to turn Kearn's outrage at her deception into what amounted to slavish cooperation. The result, however, was all that mattered. She wanted me with her. And I had to go. "This Ket," I stressed the word, "has been invited to serve an old and favored client, Paul-Human. That is all you or I need to know. There is nothing mysterious in my wanting to leave your ship to seek a more profitable opportunity. It is our way."
"Be Ket with Kearn, not me, Esen," Ragem gritted out between clenched teeth. "You've warned me your enemy has the ability to take information from the memories of your kind as it kills them. What if it learned enough to impersonate Skalet's Kraal personality, S'kal-ru? The Kraal Confederacy is in chaos. Who would question anyone of her rank?"
"Portula Colony wasn't torn apart by a subtle being, Paul-Human," I reminded him. "Why should it try such an elaborate process now to lure me into a trap? From what we've seen, this being could rip its way through the ship faster than you could sound your breach alarms."
We glared at each other.
"Let me come with you," Ragem said after a long pause.
I reached out to cup his face with both hands, fingertips overlapping the top of his head, and shook him gently. "Paul-Human. Friend. It's impossible."
He stepped out of my hold, eyes brimming with the recklessness I remembered all too well from Kraos. "It's not. Ask S'kal-ru to request my presence as a—as a Commonwealth observer to the current crisis. There're hundreds throughout the system. The Confederacy is always kicking them out on some pretext or other; they assign new ones all the time."
Of the myriad objections immediately coming to mind, I picked the most obvious. "How could she justify picking you from those on the Rigus?"'
"My mother's homeworld—Botharis. It's in the Confederacy. Most of the time," he hedged.
"Which makes you unlikely to be neutral."
"Which makes me the only person on this ship fluent in the Kraal diplomatic language and up-to-date on Confederacy customs."
I felt my body temperature rising. "No."
"Why?" Back to that.
"I don't want you to come."
"I'm not going to desert you!"
Enough was enough. I held form with an effort, fondly thinking of cycling into something more convincing than the passive Ket, something with muscle to lift his slender form into the air and gently thump it into a wall once or twice. It was a reaction the Human persisted in inspiring. "You are not deserting me, Ragem," I explained instead. "I am leaving you. If you want to help me, divert Kearn's attention. You won't be able to stop his pursuit of me altogether, but perhaps you can misdirect his efforts."
He raised one hand, a look of abrupt and unhappy enlightenment crossing his face. "You don't want me to meet Skalet. Or anyone else of your kind. Why?"
"Is it because of how they'd react to me?" He paused. "Or to your friendship with a Human?"
Or how you would react to them? I thought with a shudder, thinking of sharing flesh, of Ersh's past, of all the other aspects of Web biology, any one of which was more than likely to restore that look of horror on his face. I'd never felt the difference between us so utterly as now.
"Paul-Human," I took a long step to reach the room's one table and waved him into the chair across from where I chose to crouch. I spread my hands over the table's smooth surface, trying for a similar serenity. "Tomorrow morning, a shuttle from the Trium Set is going to clamp on the hull of the Rigus. This Ket must leave on that shuttle. Skalet could not refuse to respond to my message. I cannot refuse to go to her."
"My kin and I are as one. All of us. The loss of Mixs and Lesy has diminished the whole of what we are. This is also how," I put out one hand to take his, "I view our friendship. You are part of what I am. But not part of what connects me with the others. They could not understand." An understatement if ever there was one.
"Then don't tell Skalet about me," Ragem argued reasonably, determination in every line of his face as well as in the firm pressure of his smaller hands over mine. "Esen, I don't like any of this. Call it Human intuition, but it stinks to me like Grangel's Commons House: all honey and smiles on the surface, and who knows what lurking below. Just let me come with you."
I'd said no. I'd meant no. So it was with no surprise at all that I took my seat in the Trium Set's shuttle the next morning, breakfast and good-byes heavy on my stomach, and nodded a mute greeting to Ragem as he and his baggage dropped on the facing bench a moment later.
Typical of the Confederacy, the interior of the shuttle gleamed with polished wood trim and gilt. Probably the captain's personal craft, I decided, sneaking a quick drift of my fingers along silky paneling. There were three crew: tall, slender Humans, with ornate tattoos marking family affiliations and business alliances running over each cheek. I could read them, if I took the time or saw the need. The pilot concentrated on her task after a courteous greeting. The other two, supposedly in charge of our comfort, spent most of the short trip to the Trium Set staring at Ragem as if different politics made the Human more alien than I.
To me, Ragem appeared entirely too smug. I'd adamantly refused to contact Skalet and arrange for his invitation. After storming out of my cabin, a decidedly unpleasant way to say good-bye, the Human must have taken matters successfully into his own hands, with the result that he leaned back against the bench's cushioned back as if without a care in the universe. He even wore casual clothes instead of his uniform, his favorite jacket open over what looked to be a woven shirt and pants.
He couldn't have … I narrowed my eyes at him, suddenly suspicious. Ragem smiled back. If he'd left the Rigus without Kearn's permission, I hoped he'd covered his tracks with some plausible story, though I couldn't imagine what that could be. Otherwise, either Kearn would immediately contact the Trium Set and demand Ragem's return, an event sure to perturb the security-conscious Kraal, or worse, Kearn might just start putting the clues together and figure out why Ragem was so devoted to a Ket encountered by chance on Hixtar Station. What Kearn lacked in cleverness he more than compensated for in sheer paranoia.
"We are docking, Madame Ket," the pilot announced, swiveling in her seat to face me. "S'kal-ru wishes to see you at once."
If anything, Ragem's smile widened.
"S'kal-ru awaits you, Madame Ket," the guard said tonelessly, looking completely past me; his bearing implied, falsely, that this member of Skalet's military force hadn't thoroughly analyzed the likely threat level I poised—none—and the chance of his getting access to a fabled Ket massage—none.
My Ketself approved of the Trium Set. If the shuttle had been luxurious, her immense base ship was opulent. In this section, officers' quarters, the doors were works of art, carved in bas-relief down to ornate handles my hands ached to explore. Skalet-memory reminded me of other doors, space-sturdy and plain, ready to instantly replace these ornamental ones should the ship be at risk. Expensive, but then the Kraal Confederacy had never fought its civil wars over mere wealth.
I pulled open the door, trailing one long wistful finger over its intricate surface, and stepped into what had to be one of the better cabins on the Trium Set. Skalet had carelessly shoved its tapestried couches and chairs into a confused mess along one wall, leaving the center of the room free for three tables overflowing with maps. An image projector squatted on t
he floor nearby. I avoided the gashes in the hand-woven carpeting left by her rough redecorating.
"Ket?!" The word came from the dark, all lights in the room being trained on the tables and their tactical displays. "Couldn't you have picked something more—useful?" Skalet's rich tenor voice always struck me as incongruous in this form and manner, a combination reminiscent of the juicy lure held out for unsuspecting fish by the Denebian spiny shark.
I fluttered my fingers, now thankfully free of pain, willing to trust that Skalet would have ensured her own quarters were safe from eavesdroppers. "It has its advantages. Subterfuge for one."
A figure moved into the wash of light surrounding the image projector. In Human form, Skalet, known in this place and body as S'kal-ru, was as tall as my Ketself, her slender body whipcord rather than elegant. The tattoos on her cheeks proclaimed her as one entitled to the unquestioning support of the three oldest and most powerful family Clans of Kraal Prime. She'd chosen to shave her head, a style preferred by soldiers who fought in null-gee battle suits, and one that purged any vestige of softness from her strong features. I'd never been so happy to see anyone in my life.
"So—?" She lifted one pale eyebrow at me.
"My use-name is Nimal-Ket."
"So, Nimal-Ket," she said. "Come and sit. Tell me what you left out of your message. And I will tell you what I have planned in advance of your arrival."
Instead of taking the chair she pushed forward with one foot before dropping into its neighbor, I slid my fingers under the hoobit and lifted it tenderly over my head. I put it on the top of a map of Kraal V, marked with red as if Skalet had spent the day totaling casualties. The skirt followed.
I lost her protest—"Esen, wait!"—as I released form and settled into web-flesh, gaining an awareness of her molecular structure as I lost the ability to hear. I extruded the memories she should have, holding back my secrets, ruthlessly aware I gave her no choice in that sharing. Ersh had given me none.
"Space…" Skalet's marvelous voice embodied the word with all the wonder I'd experienced, and she now shared.
"Mixs and Lesy," I said, my Ket voice harsh in contrast.
"Yes," she agreed, switching on the image projector. A star field shimmered between us in the dark room, hiding the tables and maps that marked the simplicity of Human war. She worked with controls for a moment, adding a series of flashing nodes to the display whose meaning I understood only too well: the known locations of the Enemy's attacks, including those against our kin.
Skalet's plan lay within my memory, assimilated from the flesh she'd returned to me in exchange. I also contained her outrage at my tactics, an outrage mixed with a hint of approval. She'd always thought there could be sharing between two, something Ersh had forbidden until breaking that Rule herself.
"You weren't surprised by the nature of our Enemy," I commented.
"I always thought it preposterous we'd be the only Web in the universe," Skalet replied absently, still adjusting her machine. "Where did Ersh come from, if that was the case?"
Since Ersh's origin was among those items I hadn't chosen to share with Skalet, I could hardly answer. But I did have questions of my own. "This plan of yours. Setting a trap for it using the Kraal ships. Do you really think the Humans can harm it?" And what does that mean for the rest of us? I added to myself.
"Don't worry, 'tween. I've a few tricks up my sleeves."
I tasted the echo of her confidence, but remained unconvinced. "Shouldn't we contact Ersh before—"
Skalet whirled around, her eyes reflecting the star field, her fist slamming down on an invisible table. "No! We must protect Ersh from it at all costs. I can handle this situation, Esen," she went on in a quieter voice. "We will share our victory with Ersh, not our fears."
"Victory? Mixs and Lesy are dead. We're planning to murder one of our own kind. Your plan means risking dozens of Humans and their ships. What victory can you possibly see in any of this?"
"You've never lived out here, Esen," she said in a tone that suggested I was being predictably unreasonable. "You never had to adjust your thinking to fit another species' culture, to accommodate different ways of doing things. Your head is still full of Ersh's idealism. Well, it doesn't always work in the real universe."
Ersh, an idealist? I wondered if Skalet would say that if she owned the Ersh-memories I'd been forced to consume. "And what of our purpose, Skalet?" I asked, refusing to be dismissed. "To preserve intelligent life and its accomplishments. How does risking lives—wasting lives—accomplish this?"
Skalet paused before answering, a pause that gave me time to remember who I was scolding: one of my Elders, the one who had never been satisfied with my progress as long as I could remember. My grip on the hoobit could have bent the metal, had it been made of weaker stuff. My hearts pounded slightly out of synch.
"We shared flesh, Esen-alit-Quar," came her unexpectedly gentle reply. "From your taste, I know you are more than you were; how much more I cannot be sure. You've always been different from the rest of us, thanks to Ansky's dereliction, but Ersh was right to tell me you would one day exceed my expectations—something I found hard to believe until now."
Ersh said that? I kept my surprise to myself. "But you are going ahead."
"There are costs in any conflict. Our purpose is best served by destroying our Enemy, by whatever means." A blue cluster appeared in one segment of the star field, its glow catching her cheekbones and firmly set chin. "Admiral Mocktap will deploy her fleet there. She stands ready to spring my trap on the monster." A tiny yellow spark winked into life within the cluster, began moving outward, splitting suddenly into two, then four, then eight, sixteen; the course of the multiple sparks forming a fan. "There is my bait."
"Drones, ready to release your location the moment they are attacked by a web-being," I said. That location would be on a lifeless moon in a system near the edge of the Kraal Confederacy, in line with where our Enemy should come. I knew the details. I just didn't like them. "It wants to survive, Skalet. It must have assimilated at least part of Lesy as well as Mixs. I wouldn't underestimate it."
"I don't." The tiny yellow fan spread farther, along a track leading back to Jeopardy Nebula from Kraal: Skalet's assessment of the probable path of our Enemy, how it traveled still a mystery to us both. "Your assumption it will seek Ansky or me next is valid." Without warning, her calm shattered for an instant. "I don't appreciate sharing its hunger for us, Esen."
"What about Ansky?" There'd been no reply to Ragem's message before I left the Rigus. Fortunately for my peace of mind, my birth-parent had been in contact with Skalet in the meantime. Ansky had been warned and there had been no sign of the Enemy on Artos.
Skalet shut down the projector, ordering on the lights at the same time. I blinked owlishly in the sudden glare. "Of us all, Ansky is the least able to defend herself," she stated without condemnation. I couldn't argue. Ansky was, well, she was herself. "I want you to go and get her."
"Pardon?" I blurted.
"I will give you a ship, Esen, and a crew," Skalet went on as if she hadn't heard. "I'd suggest a change from this cowering Ket of yours, but I want you to take the Human, Paul Ragem, and it's the form he knows."
This was the first mention of Ragem by either of us. I'd kept almost all trace of him from the memories I'd shared, beyond events Skalet had to see in order to understand our situation. She knew him from me as helpful and capable, but safely gullible rather than perceptive.
Ragem, however, had leaped ahead of me.
Skalet-memory held the totally implausible story he'd sent directly to her under my codes. "You didn't believe he was my assistant for an instant, Skalet," I dared. "Even before we shared and you knew. Why did you let him on your shuttle without checking with the Rigus or me?"
"The Human obviously expects you will support this imposture. If you have enlisted his commitment to this extent, he could be useful. Unlike Ersh, I fully appreciate the value of ephemerals in a conflict."
&n
bsp; Had I made some mistake in sorting my memories? I grew cautious, feeling a coldness settle around my hearts. Skalet was a master tactician. Her ability to slice through a knot of misinformation and complexity was respected by Ersh herself. As was her ruthlessness. Skalet rarely had conflicts of conscience—convinced that other species sacrificed one another as part of their nature, behavior she observed with clinical detachment. I suspected she was also capable of it. She mustn't suspect Ragem knew of us.
"Don't mistake his attempt to accompany me as something personal, Skalet," I said slowly. "You know how ephemerals can become obsessed. The destruction of Portula Colony must have had a deeper impact on this one than I thought. He's determined to hunt down whatever's responsible and may believe I can lead him to the cause." I made my fingers move lightly, easily over the hoobit. "I don't need that kind of help. You should send him back to his ship."
I hadn't fooled her. I should have known I couldn't. "There was none of this in your sharing." Lovely or not, Skalet's voice could still project the bite I remembered all too well. I controlled the temptation to snap to attention. "You stink of secrets, youngest and least of us," she continued. "An inappropriate odor I will question when we again stand before Ersh." Before I could respond, she said with total finality: "Take this curious, this obsessed Human with you. Keep him within reach."
"Why?" I whispered, fearing the answer.
"Use him as long as he is willing and unaware, whatever his reasons. If his curiosity grows, inform me. I will deal with him."
I stared at the black-and-red scrollwork of the tattoos under the fine texture of her skin, permanent record of the Web I realized Skalet had formed within this society. The war maps on her tables showed the value she placed on that web. I had been right not to reveal my connection to Ragem—more right than I'd known.
Beholder's Eye Page 25
