Beholder's Eye

by Julie E. Czerneda

  However, my point was taken by the Kraal. "The refugees followed the Commonwealth boundary," Longins noted. "The B.W. joined them somewhere past the Jeopardy Nebula."

  Skalet overlaid the route of our Enemy, as best we knew it. "It's been steering clear of the uninhabited regions. Was this avoidance deliberate, or has it been following the shipping lanes?"

  "Both," I suggested, thinking of its appetite.

  "So where will it go now?"

  Skalet toned down the political map to barely visible pastels. She was right, I thought, since our Enemy didn't care for such markers either. Instead, she emphasized shipping patterns and inhabited worlds.

  There were perhaps three directions it might take from Artos, depending on how seriously it took the pursuit of the Rigus—and how long that pursuit lasted. Translight travel had to cost it, a toll I assumed our Enemy would collect from any intelligent life it encountered. So any of those three routes would suit its needs. My stomach churned as though I were Lanivarian again.

  One route intersected the fanlike spread of drones Skalet had launched days earlier. I was impressed by her foresight. Another led straight to the nearest curve of Kraal space, surely another lure to the creature as it hunted Skalet. The third lay toward Artos, its probable next target.

  Except that Ansky was no longer there. And the Rigus was in the way.

  "Excellent. It will come to us. We should be able to sit here and wait," Skalet concluded triumphantly. I wrapped my fingers around my hoobit and looked steadily at the last of my web-sisters, wondering if I would ever understand how she could be so delighted to be the bait in a trap. I certainly wasn't.

  Ragem had his own concerns over Skalet's plan, concerns I saw in the grim set of his mouth when I returned to his cabin. First, though, he read over the messages for himself; somehow I'd neglected to return them to Skalet.

  When he finished, he shook his head. "I don't suppose. No. Forget it."

  I ran my fingers along Ragem's forehead; it didn't erase the frown etched in place. "What am I to forget, Paul-Human?" I asked.

  He folded the messages and tucked them in a pocket. I supposed that meant I wasn't going to return them to Skalet. "I just wondered if S'kal-ru still had that signaling device of mine."

  "So you could contact the Rigus?" I guessed. "She destroyed it the moment it was found. And I doubt she'd let either of us at the Trium Set's com equipment." The cabin was quite delightful to my Ket senses; I'd explored its furnishings thoroughly while Ragem read the messages involving his former ship. I walked over to a particularly fine picture frame and stroked it. The painting within was done partially in colors I couldn't detect with this form; what I could see suggested a portrait. Or it could have been a bowl of fruit.

  "Why do you want to contact the Rigus now?" I asked almost casually, though I felt nothing of the kind. "To tell Kearn the true nature of his monster?"

  "Of course not!" Ragem snapped angrily, then made an effort to calm himself, rubbing a hand over his face and speaking more evenly. "Esen, if the Rigus follows that thing, she's going to blunder right into the Kraal fleet and its ambush. Don't you think the crew should be warned? They could help, damn it!"

  He had a point. "Skalet knows all this, Paul-Human," I answered slowly. "She prefers to deal with the quantities she knows and can control. This fleet of hers may be small, five cruisers and this warship, but it is the best the Kraal have. If all goes to plan, our Enemy will be overwhelmed before the Rigus is even aware its prey has vanished from its scopes."

  Ragem rose from his chair and came to look up at me. I wasn't surprised when he lifted his good hand to my shoulder; he was becoming distressingly physical lately. "Esen, is part of her plan to destroy the Rigus?" he demanded, stretching so he could look me right in the eyes.

  I felt threatened both by the Human's posture and his dreadful suspicion. Skalet planning to take the Rigus as well as our Enemy? "Why would—?"

  "It's an effective way to deal with Kearn, isn't it? How far would she go to protect your secrets?"

  "No!" I protested, but found myself frozen in his light grip, forced to think by the passion in those gray, alien eyes. Ersh. How well did I know Skalet, after all? Most of my sharings with Skalet had been through Ersh; she'd always decided what I was to assimilate and what I was to learn the ephemeral way. Was Skalet capable of murder?

  I wasn't. Ansky, Lesy, and Mixs—I believed not. Ersh? I knew she was. But Skalet? She'd assimilated the same purpose from Ersh, lived by the same Rules, all intended to protect and preserve intelligent life. And hide the existence of the Web, I added. Why at this moment did I see her, not as Web, but as Kraal, her face lit by the colors of war from her imager, eyes intent above the tattoos marking her willingness to battle for the rights of clan and family? Why did I hear her threat against Ragem?

  Ragem sensed my growing doubts. He added to them: "Self-preservation, Esen. Every living thing seeks to protect itself. And she sees Kearn as a threat. What will she do when the Rigus wanders in range of her weapons? Tell me you don't think she'll fire."

  "We revere life," I said, feeling my grasp on this form weakening and raising my temperature at once. "We cannot kill—"

  "You can't," he countered, giving me a gentle shake. "What I've seen of S'kal-ru says she can and will. We have to warn the Rigus, Es."

  "No," I said, my voice seeming to belong to someone else.

  I'd disappointed him. "But—"

  "She won't let us," I interrupted, certain I now contemplated such a betrayal Ersh would excise me from whatever was left of the Web. So be it. I knew what was right.

  "We have to stop Skalet's ambush, Paul," I continued, my voice strange and grim in my own ears. "Before it's too late. We have to think of a way to sabotage her plan."

  I should have remembered who was supposed to teach me subterfuge.

  * * *

  Out There

  HUNGER.

  Death forgot about its pursuer, instead beginning to search ahead on this path, knowing a greater need than it had felt for a long time.

  There. Reflected radiation beamed from a shining hull, the dimpling of gravity nearby an unnecessary marker. Death rejoiced, swooping close for the kill.

  The shell was empty.

  Disappointment. No time to waste.

  Wait! There it was: the taste, the ultimate taste it sought. In here!

  Death ripped apart the tiny drone ship to find the tiny cluster of molecules. As it consumed them, along with the holder and the table on which they had rested, a message began vibrating through the remaining hull plates, the medium electromagnetism, the meaning clear.

  This is where I am! Come to me if you dare!

  Death accepted the challenge with an unheard roar.

  Hunger!

  * * *

  47: Cruiser Morning

  « ^ »

  "TELL me you aren't planning to attack the Rigus."

  "I'm not planning to attack the Rigus," Skalet said promptly, "Satisfied? Why should I?" she continued reasonably. "Not only would it upset the Commonwealth, who would rumble about economic sanctions and doubtless cost my affiliates substantial funds, but it wouldn't accomplish anything."

  "You'd get rid of Kearn. He's the one chasing us."

  "He's hardly the first, 'tween." She enjoyed surprising me; I could tell by the curve of her lips under the visor of her helmet. "Did you think we could live all these centuries among such curious beings and never be suspected until you blundered with this Human? If we'd killed them all, it would only have made matters worse. No, there are better ways to deflate our friend out there, Esen."

  "What if I don't believe you, Skalet?" I demanded quietly, my fingers tight on the hoobit.

  My web-kin slid the straps of her battle suit up over her shoulders, bouncing in place to settle the heavy equipment. "What do you think, that you and your Human can somehow sabotage my plans? You are a pair, aren't you? Don't strain yourself, youngest. My gunners have explicit instructions t
o leave your precious ship alone," she stopped abruptly to look at me, wide-eyed. "Unless the Rigus gets between us and the B.W."

  Skalet was acting like some hormone-pumped Ganthor about to defend its herd. I stood to one side as she clumped across the ruined carpet of her cabin's main room to rummage in the closet. The battle suit almost doubled her mass and I had no intention of risking my toes under hers. Out came a selection of side arms.

  "You aren't planning a face-to-face battle," I said dryly. "Is this all necessary?"

  "One needs to be prepared," she replied jovially. "The troops expect their officers to set an example."

  Skalet's preparations, in full force the moment the drone's confirmation signal reached the Trium Set, included space suits for Ragem and myself. Had I been truly Ket, I'd have succumbed to hysterics almost immediately, since the suits provided for me to try for best fit required a choice between amputating my arms or legs; the Kraal on board, while being quite uniformly tall and slender, were also Human-proportioned to a fault.

  Ragem, needing something to tear apart perhaps, set himself the task of modifying two suits into something that might afford my Ketself a moment's protection from vacuum. He proved adept with a microblade and sealer, despite the handicap of his injured arm. The resulting cobbled-together contraption drew smiles from passing Kraal crew, but I thanked him.

  "Let's hope you don't have to test it as Nimal-Ket," Ragem declared morosely, snapping closed most of the fasteners on his own suit once I was in mine. I helped him put his arm back in the sling; he'd confessed to it easing the discomfort. "Those seals are temp at best."

  I hung the gloves on my belt, unwilling to cover my hands any sooner than necessary. "I'll keep that in mind."

  He glanced around. We were finally alone in the suiting room, the Kraal having left to attend their duties. "What are we going to do about the Rigus?"

  "Skalet says she's not planning to attack the ship," I told him. "Unless it gets between her and our Enemy."

  He drove a fist into his knee. "Even if we believe her, I still say we have to do something to let the Rigus know!"

  "I'm open to suggestion, Paul-Human."

  "Madame Ket? Horn Ragem?" We looked at each other, then at the quiet, steady-eyed Kraal officer in the doorway. "I am to escort you to the bridge. S'kal-ru invites you to attend the coming battle with her."

  So much for planning, I thought with disgust. Skalet was always one step ahead of me.

  She was one step ahead of our Enemy, too, it seemed, a conclusion I drew with considerable relief.

  The bridge had been transformed for battle. The officers and crew in charge of operating the ship and its weaponry were suited and enclosed in force fields, each individual locked to his or her control panels. They could stay in those positions indefinitely, supplied with food, medications, and even waste disposal, allowing the Trium Set to keep her key functions alive under the direction of her crew even if significantly damaged.

  The chairs and couches, as well as the chandeliers, were gone. In their place was a ringlike bench surrounding a much larger image projector than I'd yet seen. As we walked out of the lift, I spotted Skalet, complete in her battle suit, busy making final adjustments to the image glowing in front of her. She hadn't engaged the bench's field as yet; I assumed she was waiting for all of us to make our appearance first.

  "Welcome," Skalet called out cheerfully. She was in her element. Ragem touched my fingers, an unnecessary reminder of his continued suspicions. I only hoped he continued to trust my judgment of the situation. I had no wish to see what might happen if the impulsive Human decided to try and expose Skalet's nature to her own crew. While I couldn't imagine how he could do it, I put nothing past his inventiveness.

  I needn't have worried. Once Skalet brought the projector up to battle readiness. Ragem's attention was as rapt as my own. He fumbled his way into the nearest spot on the bench and I dropped beside him, pulling my feet carefully underneath. The rest of the room dimmed gradually, until all that could be seen was what floated eerily before us, the rest of the bridge made up of isolated helmets, console lights playing over visors rather than faces.

  Trust the Kraal, with their love of organized mayhem, to devote so much effort and creativity to being able to watch destruction unfold.

  The ambush was laid out before us as though all had the ability of the Web to exist in space without ship or suit. Distances collapsed or expanded depending on Skalet's momentary focus, a somewhat dizzying experience at first, her visor linked directly to the main display commands. Admiral Mocktap would have a similar system on her cruiser, the Septos Pa, but Skalet-memory was quite satisfied it wasn't as state-of-the-art as this one.

  For instance, Mocktap's display would use symbols to show ship locations, and graphical displays to indicate any weaponsfire or defense. Skalet's system did away with both. Her ships were represented by exquisitely detailed images of themselves, down to the ship names and clan colors along their sides. At the moment, three cruisers, including the Septos Pa, lay on the surface of the lifeless moon, engines semi-cooled but ready to fire up at an instant's notice, camouflaged with the latest Kraal technology. Skalet had likely insisted on some additional precautions guaranteed to puzzle her techs, if not a fellow web-being.

  Skalet drew our attention to where the other two cruisers hung in space, stationary with respect to the moon, if not the planet below. They were positioned as though guarding some treasure on the moon's surface, a subtlety I thought completely wasted on our Enemy, but Skalet had been forced to play to her admiral's view of the ambush as well as her own. Since the prize—Skalet—was supposed to be on the moon's surface, there should be guard ships nearby and in sight.

  The Trium Set was not visible in the present view. The moon stood between us and the battle field. Skalet hadn't told me what her admiral had thought of this unusual caution on her part. She fears it, too, I decided to myself, applauding this rare sign of common sense in my web-kin. The Quartos Ank, and a deliriously happy Captain Hubbar-ro, had the glorious if unenviable task of relaying information around the moon between Mocktap and Skalet.

  Skalet gave us a momentary look at the remainder of the system, designated Kraal 67B, an oddly dull little star with sixteen tiny planets. Only the one we circled, the third from the sun, had the mass to collect its neighbor eons ago and so possess a moon. The system's ores were unremarkable; its location was inconveniently distant from the nearest shipping lanes. In sum: a lifeless organization of spinning rock. Members of the Kraal Confederacy fought over it constantly.

  There was a hum as the restraint field kicked in, sucking us further into the bench. I put one hand on the surface behind me to take some of the strain as my back tried its best to fold over in response. Something must be about to happen. I glowered at Skalet despite knowing full well she couldn't see me past the images.

  The system-wide view began to shrink back down to specifics again, but not before Skalet had added two dots to the outside edge, one blue, the other red. The blue one preceded the red by the span of my hand, if I held it between my eyes and the image.

  "The Rigus," Ragem breathed in my ear.

  "The Enemy," I whispered back, unsure if raising my body temperature would do anything to ease the chill in my hearts. Would anyone notice if I cycled into the Ganthor within this suit? I wondered. It was so much braver.

  * * *

  Out There

  SO HUNGRY.

  Death careened past barren worlds, ignoring the throb of their gravity and false promise of life. It knew only desperation, so close to starvation now it almost turned again on its pursuer, risking more pain in order to feed.

  Almost.

  But ahead was the ultimate life source, the feast it must have. No more subterfuge, no more delays. It would take what it needed.

  There would be time later to enjoy its tormentors' flesh.

  * * *

  48: Cruiser Afternoon

  « ^ »

  INS
YSTEM travel, apparently even for a web-being, seemed to take endless amounts of time. Ragem and I sipped liquid nutrients from bulbs passed to us by a Kraal crewman, and tried not to disturb Skalet or her busy staff with questions. When we spoke to one another, it was in quiet whispers. Gradually, as the dots grew closer, we didn't speak at all.

  Admiral Mocktap's outlying cruisers, the Unnos Ra and the Decium Set, began to imperceptibly slide further apart, expanding the corridor Mocktap wanted to lure our Enemy through. Skalet-memory was confident; I, less the expert, saw no good reason it would prefer to pass between them. If I could swim through space, I'd circle around the planet and come up from underneath, taking advantage of the dark side of the moon. Still, Skalet's judgment of its movements had been accurate thus far. She believed our Enemy would be desperate, exhausted beyond whatever caution it possessed by the Rigus' unrelenting pursuit. She might be right. I felt a stirring of tainted-memory and fought back my knowledge of its hunger for our flesh.

  Voices rumbled through the darkened bridge. I strained the poor ears of this form, wishing at once to be Lanivarian, but couldn't make out what was going on. "Relays from the Quartos Ank. The Rigus has spotted the two cruisers standing out from the moon," Ragem whispered to me. He paused to listen. "She's sending a repeating warning about the creature, asking for help in cutting off its escape from the system. The com-tech is asking whether to reply."

  I had no trouble hearing Skalet's calm negative. The image enlarged, swooping down for an instant to check on the camouflaged ships on the moon's surface, then rushing upward to focus on the emptiness where the attack might—should come.

  Ersh, I said to myself, I really promise to behave in the future.