“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.”
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.
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’kalru’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 dioxide 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.”