I wrapped my arms around my stomach, curling up as if struck. Zoltan Duda. It had to be.
“A very productive time on the bridge, Human,” Skalet said, her voice almost back to normal. “Now—who did Cristoffen murder?” She stopped to glare at me. “And why are you, Youngest, rolled up in a ball on the floor?”
“When did you forget who you were?” I asked bitterly. The Web of Ersh had marked the loss of ephemeral life. We’d had cleansing ceremonies that lasted days, sometimes weeks. Duration didn’t vary by the number lost. If it had, we could never have stopped. No, it was potential we mourned. The brighter that fleeting light, the more we felt its passing. Ersh had taught us the significance of death as well as life.
Zoltan had shown such promise. I knew the source of that message, having asked Rudy to follow Paul’s newest recruit. It wasn’t that I suspected Zoltan of turning against us. In fact, I’d feared the opposite. He’d cared too much. And now had paid the price.
Skalet had no idea what I meant. We shared the same memories, I realized, but she’d chosen to push those aside, perhaps deeming them of little value in her new life as a Kraal.
Fair enough, I thought, standing slowly. I felt the same about much of what she’d tried to teach me.
“I suggest you concentrate on how Kearn’s associate learned of your existence and had an assassin’s shield.” Paul’s voice was rock steady but I wondered if Skalet had learned to read Human faces enough to understand the significance of his pale, set face. She’d better not push him.
“I will. But first,” her voice became a purr. “Who is this victim that he would be murdered by a shifter hunter—and our little Esen mourn his loss?”
Something hardened around his mouth. “I don’t know.”
Before I could avoid her, Skalet had me by the arm, her fingers digging deep in warning. “Answer. This is a very slender bone. I could snap it before you could stop me.”
To my relief, Paul didn’t blink. “Go ahead. You’re the one who likes being Human, not Esen. She’d love an excuse to cycle into something stronger. Wouldn’t you, Old Blob?”
Well, I could think of innumerable other reasons I’d prefer over suffering a broken arm or even a pinched one.
“You’re lying. This is the form that matters to you—the one of your own kind.”
Paul’s chuckle was so spontaneous and unexpected, even Skalet had to believe it was genuine. “Bess? I’m actually more fond of the Lishcyn. Then again, I do have a soft spot for her as a Ket. And her Whirtle?” Suddenly, he grew serious and looked down at me. “All your forms matter to me, Esen, including that shy and beautiful teardrop you only let me glimpse. And no one of them matter to me more than you.”
I pulled my arm free with a yank, restraining myself from any further juvenile behavior with an effort. Although I would have loved to stick out my tongue. “I’m going to get dressed,” I told my web-kin. “And I suggest you realize who are your only allies on this ship, S’kal-ru.”
Unfortunately, my splendid exit was marred by a knock on the door. I dove for the bedroom, where I could peek around the doorframe without being in the direct line of any projectile. Skalet motioned Paul to follow me, a precaution I heartily approved, before saying: “Enter.”
No assassin. It was Captain Arzul-ro himself, breathing so deeply I was sure he’d run here from the bridge. Considering there was a perfectly functional com system, this implied a problem he didn’t want to share with his fellow officers and crew.
“Your Eminence.” His hands flashed to his cheek tattoos so quickly I wasn’t sure it counted as a salute. “Forgive the intrusion, but Nerri Port Authority has closed the Xir System to unauthorized traffic. It’s a general broadcast.”
“Do they give a reason?”
“Yes, Your Eminence. They have War Hogs insystem. Scans confirm: two Ganthor assault fleets, with battalion carriers and suborbital support capability. Heading for Picco’s Moon. May I assume this is part of your schedule of operations?” He was patently hoping it was. No one, especially Kraal, underestimated Ganthor.
Skalet threw me a look that was vintage Ersh. I shrugged and shook my head.
This wasn’t my fault.
Otherwhere
“YOU’RE sure I can’t get you a drink, Joel? You look as though you could use one.” Alphonsus considered his old friend thoughtfully. A drink might not be enough. There were blue-black bruises under his eyes and the skin of his cheeks had taken on a yellow hue. His eyes glittered almost feverishly, unable to settle on anything. Cracks and dried skin competed for space on his lips. Both hair and clothing had gone without washing for too long, as if he no longer cared about his appearance.
Joel Largas should have been in a med box days ago.
His condition, combined with the worried looks the crew of the Largas Loyal had given the Chief Constable behind Joel’s back, had changed his plan from a brief. “Hello and get that ship launched,” to bringing Joel here, to his office, where they could talk. Alphonsus liked his office. It was tidy. He had a plant in each corner and a vid of his first grandchild’s school play on one wall. It wasn’t the kind of place where old friends looked about to collapse—or Ganthor dropped from the sky. “You’ve heard we have trouble inbound,” Alphonsus said, dropping all ceremony. Nothing spread faster than bad news—and Joel was always the first to know.
Joel nodded brusquely. “You’ve folks anxious to lift out of its way.”
“Too late. That window’s closed, orders of the Commonwealth. If there’re any—unpleasantries—they’d rather it be in space, not here. That means keeping the approaches clear of noncombatants. Reminds me. I’ve sent a tug to move the ’Loyal so I can get the emergency transport on the pad.” The Chief Constable expected some reaction to this, but Joel’s face didn’t change. Nonplussed, he continued: “Don’t worry. I told them to be gentle. I don’t know how you keep that old lady running. Means you’ll stay fin-down with the rest for a while.”
“Suits me. I’ve business here.” Short and sweet—especially from a spacer who hated regulations and orders so much he’d moved his entire family to the Fringe. What was going on?
Alphonsus deliberately assumed what his wife of seventy-five years called his “stuffy” face, the one that encouraged the innocent not to waste a minute of his time and the guilty to waste even less. The one that said: prove it. “You talked about criminals. I’m listening.”
“I saw them. Kraal elite troops, I swear to you.”
The day kept getting better and better. “Damn it, Joel, I have enough going on here without you trying to start an intersystem incident. Your own constables are saying it was an extortionist’s efforts to squeeze local business—” The official line from the authorities on Minas XII had the expected arrow pointing to the Dump.
“I saw them, Phonse. Stealth gear, all the latest toys. Kraal all right. They were after Paul Cameron and Esolesy Ki. It’s a miracle we escaped.”
“I didn’t see your name as a witness on any report.”
Joel’s humorless smile split his lip, and he paused to dab the resulting drop of blood with a corner of his sleeve. “Not wasting my time talking to local jellies. Besides, I was busy helping Paul and Es move to their hiding place. We weren’t taking any chances with Kraal around.”
Alphonsus did his best to keep his relief to something reasonable. “Where are they?”
“Sorry, Phonse. I trust you, but I promised Paul I wouldn’t tell a soul, not even his own children. They plan to stay completely out of touch until it’s safe. I’ve closed down all their business, made sure everything’s paid. The staff have gone home.” Joel nodded. Once he started, he seemed unable to stop, his head moving with every word. “That’s how it is. But I didn’t promise I wouldn’t do some looking on my own. It isn’t right, what’s happened. Isn’t right.”
“So what brought you here?” Alphonsus let a thread of impatience into his tone. It wouldn’t do to seem too interested in the affairs of Cameron & Ki,
despite his own concern over Paul and Esen.
Given what was overhead, it was easier than he’d thought.
Joel didn’t appear hurried. He spoke carefully, enunciating every word as though he’d practiced what he said—or had said it so many times it was now by rote. Alphonsus was used to this from witnesses to a crime. It chilled him from a friend. “The attack came right after Es arranged a flight here on one of our ships. She and Paul were in a hurry. I didn’t ask why, but I could tell it was important.” The rote slipped a bit. “First time I’ve—first time I’ve heard her postpone a shopping trip until on the way home. And her stomachs were growling. All of them. You’ve met her, right? You know that’s not a good sign.” The eyes glittered again.
“I haven’t had the pleasure of meeting Fem Ki,” the Chief Constable said easily. “Only Hom Cameron. Of course, I know both by reputation. Cameron & Ki handles some imports for the Tumblers. Few bother to dabble in that market. Communication issues.” Which had recently gone from amusingly eccentric to dangerously confused. “They’ve done better than most,” he added thoughtfully. “Maybe they had a lead on events here well ahead of anyone else. That could explain their hurry.”
“It doesn’t explain the destruction of their home and warehouse. But I found something. There was a note on Es’ desk about a mining operation on Picco’s Moon, an illegal one.”
“How did you find that?”
“One of the office staff was looking for clues and brought it to me. That’s not important. What is, is that Esolesy Ki is listed as one of the owners of the property where the mining was taking place.”
Alphonsus added “official disapproval” to “stuffy.” “Did she tell you?”
“I called in some favors.”
“I bet you did.”
Joel shrugged, then leaned forward, putting his arms on his thighs. “Don’t go all rules and regulations on me, Phonse. You and I go back a long way.”
“Long enough that you know there are lines I don’t cross.” Alphonsus snapped, then softened his tone. “Sorry. Tell me why you think these Kraal troops are here.”
“You know they are. My captains reported seventeen Kraal ships landing here in the past week.” Joel sat back, looking smug.
Alphonsus threw up both hands. “And I’ve got twenty-one Ervickian ships, three Whirtle heavy freighters, a Heezle yacht full of underage brats, and who-knows-how-many Human ships. If you want the rest of the breakdown by species and preference, I’ll call in Bris. He should have it updated by now. It’s a free port, Joel, with the locals throwing a fortune in gems at spacers. Of course there are Kraal.” He calmed down and put his hands flat on his desk. “And I have over a hundred Ganthor ships on approach. To be honest? Even if you could march in your elite troops and make an eyewitness statement identifying them—oh, and toss in an extradition agreement that works for both the Kraal and Tumblers—I still couldn’t deal with it right now. That’s the way it is.”
“So you won’t help me.”
“Can’t.” Alphonsus relaxed and shook his head slowly. “You’ve already done the best you can for your friends, Joel. They have the right idea. Lie low until this is resolved. It will be. By the authorities. You make sure to give your report to Minas XII when you get back.”
“I will. I understand. Thanks for your time, Phonse.” Largas stood, using the chair arms to steady himself as he got to his feet. He held out his hand, callused and rough. He might look weak and ill-used. His grip was still strong.
Alphonsus frowned slightly as he shook hands. “You’ve never given up this fast in your life, Joel Largas. If all my officers weren’t busy, I’d lock you up just to ease my mind.”
“And your Maggie would have something to say about that.”
“True enough. As it is, she’ll be mad I didn’t get you home for supper. But we’re not leaving the com room until, well, until things are resolved.” Alphonsus saw Largas to the door, then stopped before opening it. He put his hand on the other’s shoulder, feeling bone where there should be muscle. “Listen, Joel. I didn’t want to ask. You look like something an Ervickian would spit out. But I have to—I need you.”
“Need me?” The bushy eyebrows rose a little, then came together. “You think it isn’t a bluff. You think the Ganthor are coming planetside. Why? To fight who? Each other?”
“It doesn’t matter. We have two Commonwealth ships on the way. Only two, in range. This had better become a war of words, Joel, because even as innocent bystanders we haven’t a hope in hell if it’s anything else.”
The old spacer’s eyes had lost their distant focus, as though the urgency pulled him back from some abyss. His tongue moistened his lips. “Tell me what you need me to do.”
“Get the captains ready. Yours. The ones you know are steady. Quietly. Quickly. The ships are a mess out there. I can’t send some to the field without causing a panic among the rest. Most are too bottled up to move. But I have to be ready to evacuate as many folks as I can. That means priority one lifts to ships on the outer edges and those squatters on the field. I don’t want people to die arguing over property. You’ve done this before, Joel. You’ve made it work.”
“Fifty plus years ago,” with a note of desperation. “I’m old, Phonse. Surely you have someone else.”
Alphonsus gripped Joel’s other shoulder, looked him in the eye. “There’s no one I know who could do this better. There’s no one else they’d listen to without wasting time arguing. They know you. I know you. You’re fair, you’re honest, and tougher than any of them. But more than that. You wouldn’t turn away anyone who needed help; you wouldn’t abandon your worst enemy. You didn’t on Garson’s World. You won’t here. Can I count on you?”
Did age put the tears in Joel’s eyes—or something he didn’t understand? Alphonsus waited until Joel nodded, then let go of his shoulders. “I’ll do my best,” Joel said, his voice growing firmer with each word. “We’ll make room on the ‘Loyal for Maggie, and the families of your people here. Send them over when-when you like.”
“Thank you.”
The door opened as Alphonsus reached for the control. It was Bris, his nose twitching at Largas. With typical Moderan bluntness, he didn’t bother with greetings. “You have an urgent incoming on your secure channel, Chief Constable, and I’ve updates on ship movements insystem of Nerri. The transmission from Mason and Trit is due in five. There are—”
“I can see myself out,” Joel said quietly. His big hand rested on Alphonsus’ back for a moment. “Take care of us, Phonse.”
For the first time, Alphonsus wished he’d taken that cushy security job Maggie’s uncle had offered him. Sitting a com desk at a marfle tea plant, confronting hideous dangers like insect infestations and in-laws.
His eyes kept straying to the chair where Joel Largas had sat and lied to him.
The secure call had been Paul. Curt and brief, in his persona as Paul Cameron. Phrases with hidden meanings for those who knew.
“Esolesy Ki’s fine, too.” Esen was all right.
“See you’re a little overcrowded down there, Chief Constable. Watch for pickpockets.” A threat to them, already on the ground, here.
Largas. How much of what he’d said was true? Were the Kraal the threat—or was he?
“Understand your concern and would comply with the warn-off, but our ship carries essential perishables for the Tumblers. We have an off-site landing planned. Don’t worry. We know what we’re doing.” They knew the situation and were coming to talk to the Tumblers.
The brightest spot of his day. Mason and Trit hadn’t found a Tumbler, let alone talked to one. The beings were staying deep inside their valleys—forbidden turf without an invitation.
He rested his eyes on the vid of his granddaughter, watching her twirl and dance—and bump into her neighbor, both girls consumed by giggles that spread through the rest of the class until all that remained of the original choreography was the finale, when they all bowed together.
There w
ere children in the Port City. More on board the ships locked to the ground.
There were children scattered over the Moon’s surface, waiting for the next Eclipse to start their new lives.
If Paul and Esen could do anything to help them, they would. Alphonsus believed that. And he wouldn’t let anyone get in their way.
He looked back at the chair and his expression turned to the one his wife had never seen.
Deadly.
28: Scoutship Morning
ESEN-ALIT-QUAR. Esen-alit-Quar.
There should be voices, not the ghosts of memory, to greet me here.
“Bess.” Skalet’s voice interrupted. “Pay attention.”
I tore my attention from the viewscreen, a faint blue afterimage of Picco’s vivid orange burned into my eyes, complete with the dark, insignificant spot that marked her living moon. I hadn’t expected the sight of two hunks orbiting, however large, to affect me. Perhaps, I comforted myself, it was a consequence of this form.
If so, Skalet should be staring into space as well, not hovering in front of a Kraal battle display peppered with moving dots.
“That’s a lot of Ganthor,” I offered helpfully, swallowing hard as Skalet-memory rose up and made sense of what looked random. Holding patterns. Retreat routes. Invasion formations.
“Expensive.” This dry observation came from Paul. He was sitting, one knee to his chest, on the bench that ringed the upper level of the small bridge. From there, he overlooked the display and us. His skin was startlingly plain among the tattooed Kraal, its paleness emphasized by the black crew uniform Skalet had given him. A Kraal my apparent age would be too young for affiliations, but I caught several of them staring at Paul despite Skalet’s orders that we were “luggage” and invisible.
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