Beholder's Eye

by Julie E. Czerneda

She had taken my silence for squeamishness. "Don't worry so, Esen. Just let me known if this Human becomes any threat to us and I'll take care of the matter."

  Ragem, I said to myself, you've done it now.

  * * *

  Out There

  DEATH replenished itself. Only the contents of one of the small, fragile shells had been necessary.

  Satiated, it nestled against the hull of another in the convoy, undetected by the low-capacity sensors of the freighter, content to be carried as long as these shells were traveling its chosen course. It relished the sensation of indulgence.

  Lesy-memory had given it the concept of "saving for later."

  * * *

  35: Cruiser Afternoon; Scout Ship Night

  « ^ »

  THE chandeliers, paired and connected by gleaming silver chains, were a nice touch. Perhaps arguably out-of-place in a warship's bridge, but to each culture its own symbols, I'd been taught.

  Not that any others of the present company appeared to find anything unusual in a setting that lacked only a small orchestra to turn itself into a ballroom for royalty. Trium Set's officers and crew sat at their stations with nary a look our way, while the five of us were embraced by armchairs which took their profession far too seriously for me. I knew from the moment I sat down—and sank down—I'd likely need help to get out again. Disappointingly, the chairs were all made from some cured animal hide. Soft enough, but with hardly any texture left for my pleasure.

  The chairs, set on a dais overlooking the business area of the bridge, formed a semicircle around a low table at definite risk of collapse under the mass of wines, ices, and what the Kraal called "essentials," ornate finger foods having in common a deliberate attempt to disguise their components.

  We'd been here for only a few minutes and, to the Kraal, that meant no serious discussion could occur for a while yet, although Skalet had quaffed her second ceremonial glass of serpitay with quite unceremonial haste. The two Kraal captains with us—Longins of the Trium Set and his counterpart, Hubbar-ro, from what was proposed to be my ship, the scout class Quartos Ank—also indulged in less than the requisite lingering over flavor and hue, obviously used to the courier's impatience. Skalet's status among the Kraal military was an interesting one. As courier for her sponsors, she could commandeer any assistance she required, no questions asked. I knew she had to account for her actions to the heads of the affiliated family Clans; however, this event apparently occurred only if she lost whatever gamble she took. Which had yet, Skalet-memory assured me, to happen in. her illustrious career. I could believe that.

  Ragem sat with us instead of on the low stool beside my chair, the protocol officer having scrambled to repair the social damage caused by her assumption he was my servant rather than business associate. Despite this clarification, which I announced without a blink and Ragem acknowledged with a gracious bow, the Kraal were not happy. Ragem, whether due to his first contact training or because he did know these people better than most from the Commonwealth, acted oblivious to the sidelong looks he was constantly given by the captains on either side of him as well as members of the crew. I, with my almost naked body, knees almost in my face because of the depth of padding in the chair and hands that could lie on that same floor if I let them, was rarely noticed. Humans.

  Skalet put down her glass, snapping a long finger against its rim to make a ringing sound. "Our guests will forgive some unseemly haste, Captains. I wish to get to business."

  Captain Hubbar-ro swallowed the last of his beverage with a look of regret at the amount left in the bottle on the table. Discretion won. "As you say, S'kal-ru. The Quartos Ank is ready for your disposition. How may she serve you?"

  I shifted a bit in the chair, trying to straighten up and match the erect posture of the Kraal. It would have been nice to rest my elbows on the chairarms without having to raise them higher than my shoulders. Skalet eyed me, but responded to the Kraal's question: "You and your ship are to serve the wishes of my honored guest, Madame Ket, as the Trium Set and I prepare for our—visitor."

  Hubbar-ro, quite handsome as Kraal went, young for his command position though an explanation for that might be read in his impressive array of affiliation tattoos, showed no expression beyond polite attention. But his hand snaked for the bottle and he poured himself a very full glass. "As you wish," he said somewhat numbly. The other captain grinned.

  Poor man, I thought. Probably thinks he's giving S'kal-ru's masseuse a ride home when he could be seeking a glorious death in battle. "This Ket is grateful for your assistance in my very important and potentially hazardous mission for S'kal-ru-Kraal," I said, there being no harm in saving face.

  His eyes lost their fixation on the wine to send me a grateful look. "It is my privilege to serve."

  "Of course it is," Skalet said warmly, and I witnessed firsthand the power of her incredible voice, when she chose to employ it. Both captains, and Ragem, flushed almost immediately. Backs straightened throughout the control room. I let two fingers wriggle in a restrained laugh Skalet returned with a quirk of her own thin lips. This was, I realized with some astonishment, the first time in my life I'd interacted freely with ephemerals and one of my Web without coaching or practicing for weeks beforehand. The spontaneity was quite exhilarating.

  But the reason wasn't, I corrected, stilling my fingers and looking with purpose at Skalet. "This Ket is prepared to leave immediately, Captain. By your wish, S'kal-ru-Kraal?"

  "I didn't unpack," Ragem put in, unasked but wisely maintaining his right to the same status Skalet had accorded me.

  "Just so," Skalet said with approval. "As you can see, Captains, the Confederacy has willing allies in the most—unexpected areas. I charge you in particular with their safety, Hubbar-ro. Do not fail."

  He fairly glowed with pride and indeed leaped to his feet, as if forgetting the glassful of wine in his hand and ready to board ship that instant. Ragem and I exchanged a glance. "This Ket knows what you wish accomplished, S'kal-ru-Kraal," I began to say, then had to stop as I wrestled myself free of the amorous chair. There. I stood, flustered, but straightened my body as much as possible before bowing. "We will return as soon as possible."

  Skalet had remained seated, as had Captain Longins of the Trium Set. "See that you do, Madame Ket," she said quietly. "See that you do."

  * * *

  Out There

  CHAR'S calm voice penetrated the din like a force blade into ice. "The Kenji should have been scrapped a decade ago and you know it, Feve. Your brothers held her together with thread and lucky charms at best."

  "No!" Feve Talkan shook his arm free of the well-meant restraint of his cousin, crowding forward in the already packed room as if this somehow made his point clearer to the group seated around the Largas' galley table. Joel Largas, as captain and head of what remained of the Largas' extended family and their kin, waved away his would-be protectors, judging Talkan no threat. The man simply pushed ahead until he could press both hands on the table and glare around at the fourteen seated there, captains and family heads all, gathered at some risk from the convoy ships to confront what seemed a cruel new punishment being inflicted on them from the dark on the eve of their escape. Talkan's rage and fear was something they all felt now.

  "The Kenji was old, right enough," the trader grated, his heavy white brows meeting in a scowl over his haunted eyes. "If it was only her, fair enough. But Spence's ship, the Pulse? She was in better shape than this flagship of yours, Char Largas, new off the docks and setting records with her first translight cargo. How do you explain that?"

  Out of the corner of his eye, Joel watched his oldest daughter settle back in her chair, deliberately pausing until the murmur following Talkan's furious questions died down. "I can't," she said firmly. "But neither can you, with your stories of space monsters—" Voices rose and drowned out the rest. There were over thirty adults crammed in a room meant for a dozen at best, the ventilators already maxed out, Joel decided, leaving too much carbon dioxid
e in an atmosphere filled with enough verbal hot air and panic.

  He stood, slamming his cup as an improvised gavel to reclaim everyone's attention. "We're down to fourteen ships, nine of them towing life pods and barges. Our thanks to Captains Pary and Josh for saving the barges being towed by the Pulse before she blew."

  A solemn mutter of agreement brought up the heads of the two named. Joel knew them both: not heroes, simply capable pilots who acted on instinct to save lives. As they all were trying to do. He continued: "It's going to take us nine days minimum translight before we reach sanctuary at Inhaven. Whether what's dogging us now is bad equipment, bad luck, or Feve's monster," his hand shot up to halt the round of nervous laughter, "we'll get there together. You know the alternative—"

  "None of us want to risk Artos," Feve Talkan said heavily. "I don't care how close we pass to their system. There's enough of us shipped cargoes through there to know there'll be no welcome for us."

  "Then we're agreed—" Char began.

  Talkan wasn't done. His grim voice reached every corner of the room: "But I'm warning you all. We've got something with us on this journey. Something that is ripping the life out of our ships one by one. And if we don't do anything to stop it, it may be none of us will see Inhaven or any other world again."

  * * *

  36: Scout Ship Night

  « ^ »

  "WHAT did you say to Kearn?"

  Ragem delayed answering to take another bite of boiled rast egg, a delicacy from Botharis he'd been delighted to find on the Quartos Ank's menu. Having a first-class chef on a scout ship with a crew of only eight was an extravagance I definitely owed to Skalet. The chef had even managed to produce a platter of arsenic-laced noodles, following a Ket-recipe she'd brought with her from the Trium Set. I wasn't entirely sure she appreciated my well-meant suggestion that leftovers were excellent for pest control.

  The noodles sent a welcome fire through my taste buds, a sense I'd resigned myself to keeping numb while Ket among Humans. Skalet was ready to take on our Enemy in combat. Every minute took us closer to Artos, where we were to pick up Ansky and keep her out of harm's way. My mood would have been downright mellow, if Ragem weren't avoiding my reasonable questions.

  "We can talk freely here, you know," I said, wondering if he suspected the crew of eavesdropping or of the compact yet gorgeous dining room being rigged with the latest recording devices. "This is S'kal-ru's ship. It's a hand-picked crew."

  "I'll take your word for it, Es."

  I pointed my fork at him. "It's no reason to get careless, my friend. Nimal-Ket, if you don't mind."

  Ragem nodded, mouth full again.

  "So, my friend. What did you tell Kearn?" I repeated. "He can't have just said: 'Off you go, Ragem. Keep the Ket company. I know we're in a crisis, but the crew and I can handle it without you.' "

  "Not quite," Ragem agreed maddeningly. Then he steepled his long fingers before him and launched into a far better imitation of Kearn than I'd managed: "Ragem, these Kraal are up to no good. Faking a distress call. Claiming it was so we could meet without their opponents catching on. Trying to bribe this ship!" He dropped the whine from his voice for his own reply. "How dare they, sir! You must have been outraged!" Ragem's voice rose again, adding a touch of Kearn-smugness I remembered well enough to make my fingers flutter. "Well, we had run up quite the debt with Madame Ket, you know, Ragem. Wonderful creature—very few ships can claim to have one on board as long as we did. If you'd seen her bill, you'd understand why. Worth every credit, but not the easiest thing to explain on the ship's budget.' "

  "Kearn let Skalet pay my bill," I said, shaking my head for Ragem's benefit. I'd known how Skalet enlisted the cooperation of the Rigus from our sharing, but saw no need to remind the Human of such Web abilities. Besides, I was enjoying his performance. "There goes this Ket's profit margin," I quipped.

  Grinning broadly, Ragem kept going in his Kearn-voice. "Quite understand the Kraal wanting to hire Madame Ket. Most Ket avoid Kraal space—too much conflict all the time. Having a Ket in the entourage is good for status as well as the, ahem, back." I almost choked as Ragem flawlessly reproduced Kearn's chuckle at his own humor.

  "Explaining his less-than-grief-stricken reaction to my departure," I interjected. "And why Kearn didn't press charges against the Trium Set." Now we came to what neither Skalet nor I knew. "How did you—"

  Ragem interrupted me, mercifully in his own voice this time. "I suggested to the Acting Captain that there was something suspicious about all this and that it might be prudent to put an observer on the Trium Set to find out what the Confederacy really wanted with you. I was the logical choice, as I tried to tell you before. Hence, my presence as your assistant."

  "You're Kearn's spy," I said numbly.

  He locked both hands behind his head and grinned. "At your service, Nimal-Ket."

  Clever being, I thought to myself. Entirely too clever for his own good. "Even Kearn realizes a spy is only as good as his reports."

  Ragem looked hurt. "What do you think I plan to tell him?"

  "Not that." I closed my eyes for a moment, then opened them. "What worries me, Paul-Human, is how you're to make those reports." My mouth kept threatening to tighten into a frown.

  He pulled the sleeve up his left arm, revealing tanned skin with a dusting of dark hair. A line of paler skin, already almost imperceptible, ran along the blue tinge of a blood vessel. I crooked one finger. Ragem stretched his arm across the table so I could run my sensitive fingertips over the mark, tracing the device under the skin without difficulty.

  "Before your temperature jumps, my paranoid friend," he said quickly, "I had Lawrenk do some mods on the implant. There's no record function. It has the emergency homing beacon—we couldn't remove that—but I control it. No signal goes out. Unless my vital signs hit critical, of course."

  Would it activate if you're eaten? I wondered, feeling a kind of devil-may-care lightness in my head I suspected was contamination from Ragem. "How long will it take Kearn to realize your implant isn't sending positional information or anything else for that matter? How long before he starts chasing after you, too?"

  "That's the beauty of it," he began with enthusiasm. "I planted a matching signaler on the Trium Set. Kearn will back out of Kraal space, receiving exactly what he expects and no more. He'll be convinced I'm where he left me. In a few days, I'll need a way to feed him a report, but this ship should have the equipment for it. You see, Nimal-Ket," Ragem tapped himself on the chest, "I've thought of everything."

  "You left a Commonwealth signaling device on Skalet's ship," I echoed.

  Some of his self-satisfaction faded, replaced by wariness. Perhaps it was the icy tone I used. "To be technical, it's under the bench in the shuttle."

  One wall of the dining room—to call the elegant little space a galley did it no justice—was lined with a hydroponic garden. Skalet's innovation, without doubt. I stalked over to it, grabbed a nicely lush duras plant, and cycled.

  I hadn't needed all its mass. I tossed what was left of the plant onto the table: let the crew make of it what they would; they most likely expected Ket eating habits to be interesting. Then I surveyed my foolish Human friend over a muzzle that wrinkled in rage very nicely. I could put up with the corresponding upset in my space-tender stomach long enough to make my point.

  "Have you forgotten what Kearn is really after, Ragem?" I growled into his startled face. "Me. The shape-changer who blew up in his office. As far as he's concerned I'm some kind of monster—maybe even the one he's chased from Panacia. Well, now you've left a tracking device in Skalet's ship. And what kind of being do you think she is?"

  "He'd never suspect—"

  "Probably not," I agreed, then answered the dictates of my stomach and cycled back to Ket, wiping moisture from my skin before picking up the hoobit and skirt. While I'd cycled to remind Ragem what we were, it had been a relief to shed energy, an opportunity that might not come again soon. I hoped.

&nbs
p; "But Kearn isn't the immediate problem," I continued in my higher-pitched, yet softer voice. "Skalet will find your device, Ragem. Don't doubt that for a moment. She'll find it and I'm sure will assume you left it there to track her movements. The obvious conclusion is that you are her enemy and possibly mine as well."

  His face was ashen; his voice so low I found it hard to hear in this form. "She doesn't know I know what you are—what she is."

  Had I ever been that young? At the moment, I felt every one of the decades I'd lived before this Human's birth. "Skalet is a leading tactician of a race who treat war as a parlor game, Paul-Human. You don't have to threaten her true nature to be a threat."

  I went around the table to where he sat, frozen in place, and wrapped one long Ket arm around both his shoulders. They were stiff, whether from some offense he'd taken at my reaction to his wonderful scheme or a more rational alarm at what I was trying to tell him. I couldn't guess.

  "Ragem, this is me as a Ket. I borrowed a name to use, but this body is the only Ket I can be. When Skalet is in Human form, she is that Kraal military noble you met. And she can be very dangerous to other Humans—especially you."

  Ragem patted my arm. "Then," he said lightly, "I suggest we defuse the problem before it arises. The Rigus should be well out of Kraal space by now. Call Skalet. Tell her I discovered the device in my bag and removed it in the shuttle. Say I hid it there in order not to arouse Kearn's suspicions. This was my first chance to let you know. Tell Skalet I urge her to destroy it if she hasn't already."

  Not bad, I decided, mulling over the idea. There didn't seem to be any flaws, which didn't mean they weren't there. I hadn't even started my training in subterfuge or strategy, unless this practical experience would count with Ersh. I wrapped my other arm around him and hugged tightly. "Skalet won't be easy to convince, Paul-Human," I warned. "But it's a distinct improvement over what will happen if she finds it first. I'll send the message right now."