by Timothy Zahn
"Oh," Rebekah said, sounding a little nonplussed. "Interesting. The Modhri always assumed the Spiders worked the same way he did."
"They don't," Bayta said. "Actually, it sounds to me like your group—what do you call yourselves, anyway?"
"The Melding," Rebekah said.
"It sounds like your Melding is almost a hybrid in itself," Bayta continued. "Partly like the Modhri, partly like the Spiders."
"Maybe," Rebekah said. "At any rate, as I said, everything's changed for us now. We can't connect with the Modhri, though we can still sense his presence and I'm pretty sure he can sense ours. And of course, we have more personal freedom and individuality than any of his own mind segments."
"The Abomination," I murmured.
"What was that?" Rebekah asked.
"It's the Modhri's pet name for you," I explained. A perfectly reasonable assessment of the situation, too, at least from his point of view. Maybe from ours, too. "So after that happened, you decided to get out while the getting was good?"
"Basically," Rebekah said. "There were only a few normal Eyes in our colony. We overpowered them—I say we, though of course I was only a baby at the time—collected everything, and escaped to the Quadrail."
"Taking your coral outpost with you," I said. "That is what's in your boxes, isn't it?"
"The last segments of it, yes," Rebekah said. "We've been gradually moving it to our new home." She winced. "We were almost done when the Modhri found us. You know the rest."
"Not so fast," I admonished her. "We're not done with the history lesson yet. How did you come to pick New Tigris?"
"I don't really know why we chose it over the other options," Rebekah said. "It was still a fairly new colony, I know, with a lot of construction still going on and people coming and going, both Humans and work-contracted non-Humans. We knew the Human restriction against importing Modhran coral, but our leaders decided it was worth the risk."
"Your leaders?" I asked.
"Yes, of course," Rebekah said. "As I said, we're not a single mind like the Modhri. We all have our individual personalities and talents. Some have the talent of leadership, others don't. I do know that part of their thinking was that a small Human colony would be the last place the Modhri would look for us."
I snorted. "Little did you know."
She winced. "Yandro. That irony wasn't lost on us. Once we realized what he'd done, we knew we had to move again." She swallowed. "As I said, we were almost finished when he found us."
"Using genetically altered Fillies," I commented.
"Yes, and that was a new one on us," Rebekah admitted. "We could detect the presence of his walkers, and certainly knew when Mr. Veldrick brought in his coral. But the Filiaelians were completely unexpected."
"How does that work?" Bayta asked. "They need a piece of coral with them, right?"
Rebekah nodded. "As I said, we don't operate on the same wavelength as the Modhri anymore. Lorelei's theory was that the presence of the Filiaelian walkers was somehow able to shift the coral's frequency enough to be able to get direction instead of just a sense of our presence."
"And they needed to use actual coral because their own internal polyp colonies were too small?" Bayta suggested.
"Probably," Rebekah said. "But that's just a guess. All the others except Lorelei and me were already gone by then, and we didn't have any way of doing any experiments."
"So why didn't you leave when Lorelei did?" Bayta asked. "She seemed to slip out without any trouble."
"It wasn't quite as easy as you make it sound," Rebekah said, a shadow crossing her face. "And the only reason she made it at all was because she didn't have any of our coral with her. I think the coral is what they mostly detect, not us."
Though she hadn't been sure enough of that to move freely around her hideout once the Fillies had zeroed in on Karim's bar. Still, as she'd said, she hadn't exactly been set up for field tests. "So what does he want from you?" I asked. "This seems way too much work just for vengeance."
"Especially since most of the Melding is already gone," Bayta added.
"This isn't about vengeance," Rebekah said soberly. "This is an attempt to learn the Melding's new location from the outpost." Her eyes flicked sideways, in the direction of her cabin. "If he does, then he'll move in and destroy us."
I had an odd mental image of a bunch of white-jacketed aliens strapping a chunk of coral to an interrogation chair and trying to find somewhere to attach the thumbscrews. "You think the Modhri can make him talk?"
"Make her talk," Bayta corrected me.
"Actually, we still refer to the coral part of the Melding as he," Rebekah said. "The shift to female characteristics only happens to the colonies inside female symbionts. And yes, I'm very much afraid the Modhri can get the information if he can move enough of his coral around or near a piece of ours."
"From what, the sheer overwhelming mental pressure?"
"Something like that." Rebekah hesitated. "There's also some thought that if one of us doesn't stay physically close to our outpost it might revert back to being part of the Modhri. In that case, he wouldn't have to use any mental pressure at all. But we don't know that for sure."
"That's what you get for aborting an experiment before it's finished," I told her. "You'll have to do better next time."
Rebekah stared at me. "Are you saying we should have—?"
"He's joking," Bayta assured her. "Where exactly do you need to go?"
For a moment Rebekah didn't answer. "Sibbrava," she said at last. "It's a small colony system in the Cimmal Republic."
"Is that where the rest of your group is?" I asked.
She hesitated just a split second too long. "That's where we need to go," she said.
In other words, I gathered, we were heading there but not actually going there. "We need to know the truth, Rebekah," I warned her. "All of it."
"I know," she said. "I'm doing the best I can."
"That's not an answer," I countered. "If you want our help—"
"Frank," Bayta interrupted quietly.
I looked at her, then back at Rebekah's drooping eyelids. The girl was exhausted, I remembered.
As were the rest of us, I suddenly realized. For the past twelve hours or so I'd been running on pure adrenaline, and I could feel my whole system poised on the brink of physical crash. The rest of the interrogation, I decided, could wait. "We'll talk about this later," I told Rebekah. "Right now, we all need to get some sleep."
"Yes," Bayta agreed. "You'd better get back to bed, Rebekah. Before you fall over."
"I will," Rebekah said gravely as she got a bit unsteadily to her feet. "And thank you. Thank you both. For everything."
She left. Getting up, I crossed to the door and stood just inside the dayroom, craning my ears over the low rumble of the drive. A few seconds later I heard the distinctive double click as she closed her stateroom door and locked it behind her. "Well, that was fun," I said, returning to my chair and dropping heavily into it. Suddenly, I was feeling as drained as Bayta and Rebekah looked. "You want to lay odds on how much of her story was actually true?"
"I believe her," Bayta said. "It all fits what happened back there, as well as what the Modhri told us at Yandro."
I rubbed my fingers thoughtfully across the tabletop. The story wasn't inconsistent with what had happened back there, anyway. Though not being inconsistent didn't necessarily mean true. "It certainly puts an interesting new spin on what happened in New York," I said.
"What do you mean?"
"Think about it," I said. "The walkers wouldn't have destroyed Lorelei's polyp colony that way. For all they knew, they might have been able to pull the location of the Melding's new Fortress of Solitude out of it."
Bayta's eye widened in horror. "You mean she did that to herself?"
"It's the only way it makes sense," I said, grimacing. It was a pretty gruesome mental image, I had to admit. "She felt herself succumbing to the snoozers and did the only thing she could thi
nk of to keep her colony from falling into their hands. At that point the Modhri had to do the same thing to his dead walker in order to confuse the issue."
"Horrible," Bayta murmured.
"Definitely," I said. "Ironically, the whole thing still qualifies as obfuscation, which is what I thought about it from the beginning. I just had it backwards as to which direction the smokescreen was going."
Bayta shook her head. "I still don't understand how the Modhri could suddenly change his basic character just because his polyp colonies were put into these people when they were young."
"Can't help you on that one," I said. "But there actually is precedent of a sort. A century or so ago the southern part of the Western Alliance had an invasion of killer bees that had been accidentally brought over from Africa. One of the techniques they used to blunt the species' nastiness was to get it to interbreed with a couple of calmer bee species."
"But that's a physical, genetic change," Bayta pointed out. "This is different."
"Only in that the effects are mostly mental," I reminded her. "The polyps are physically present, after all." I shrugged. "And don't forget we haven't actually proved this Melding is any more friendly than the original Modhri."
"Of course it is," Bayta said. "You saw how taken those people were with Rebekah. She has to be something very special for so many people to be willing to put their lives on the line for her."
"Unless it's just a whole mess of thought viruses," I countered.
"No," she said firmly. "Thought viruses use friendship as a conduit, but don't actually create that friendship in the first place."
For a brief moment I considered reminding her about the whole Penny Auslander incident. Fortunately, even my fatigue-numbed mind realized in time that that would just be begging for trouble. "Maybe," I said instead. "You know anything about this Sibbrava system Rebekah mentioned?"
"Not really," Bayta said, pulling out her reader and keying it on. "It's the third system you get to in Cimman space along the Kalalee Branch. It's about six and a half days from Jurskala Station, maybe ten from New Tigris Station." She peered at the reader. "Looks like the planet is mostly subsistence farming, mining, and manufacturing, with a small export trade in rare metals and exotic woods."
"Your basic end-of-the-line sort of place," I said. "Perfect spot for the Melding to take a long vacation from the rest of the universe."
"As long as no one wonders about them on their way in," Bayta warned. "The problem with small worlds is that strangers are easy to spot."
"True," I agreed, frowning as a sudden thought struck me. "What does the place have in the way of icy waters?"
Bayta fiddled with the reader's keys. "Not much," she reported. "Both polar regions are covered by land—glaciers and frozen tundra, mostly. There are a few lakes that are cold enough, but they look pretty small and shallow."
I nodded. With proper safeguards, Modhran coral could live nearly anywhere, but it needed lots of very cold water in order to grow. "Good," I said. "That implies the Melding's not trying to increase their coral outpost, only maintain it."
"They wouldn't want it growing anyway," Bayta pointed out. "Especially if they're afraid it might revert to true Modhran status without their presence nearby. They couldn't risk it growing large enough to outnumber them." She frowned. "If that makes sense."
"It does," I assured her. "Where did her boxes end up, by the way?"
"They're in the stateroom behind hers," Bayta said. "She wanted them with her, but there really wasn't enough room for her and them."
"Wants to be as close to them as possible," I said, nodding. "Sure."
Bayta stirred in her seat. "Are we going to take her to Sibbrava?"
I eyed her closely. "You really do trust her, don't you?"
"Yes, I do," she said, meeting my gaze without flinching. "I know trust is hard for you, especially with something like this. But I do trust her."
"Okay by me," I said. This was definitely not the time for an argument, or even a long discussion. Not with our minds and emotions clouded by lack of sleep.
But that didn't mean the subject was closed. Not by a long shot. It might be that the Melding's new telepathic frequency was close enough to Bayta's that she could genuinely sense Rebekah's sincerity. It was also possible that during their long hours together Rebekah had managed to plant a thought virus or two in my partner's brain.
"So that's it?" Bayta asked, frowning at my easy capitulation on the subject.
"For now," I said. "We both need some sleep before we can tackle anything requiring higher brain function." I dug into my pocket and pulled out the kwi. "Here," I said, handing it to her. "Keep it under your pillow tonight."
She fingered the weapon uncertainly. "She's not going to attack us, you know."
"Glad to hear it," I said. "Keep it under your pillow anyway."
Bayta hesitated, then slipped the kwi into her pocket. "All right," she said. "If it makes you feel better."
"It does," I said, standing up. "And lock your door behind you. I'll see you in about ten hours."
"Maybe even twelve," she said tiredly. "Good night, Frank." With a final weary smile at me, she left the dayroom.
I waited until I heard the double click of her door closing and locking. Then, hauling myself to my feet, I headed back to the cockpit.
The autopilot still had us on the minimum-time course to the transfer station that I'd requested. I checked for nearby ships—there weren't any—and then key-locked the autopilot so that it couldn't be changed by anyone except me. Then I did the same to the engine and environmental settings.
Bayta might trust Rebekah. I didn't.
And with that chore complete, I was finally able to retire to my stateroom. I locked the door behind me, took off my shoes, and flopped onto the bed without even bothering to get undressed.
But before I fell asleep, I did remember to slip my Beretta out of its holster and tuck it under my pillow.
I'd told Bayta I'd see her in ten hours. In fact, I was awake in just under eight. Unable to sleep any more, I got up, showered, and headed out to face the universe.
My first job was to check all the course and systems settings I'd locked in before heading to bed. Everything was just as I'd left it, with no indication that anyone had even tried to fiddle with the controls. I got myself some breakfast, listening for signs of life from the rest of the ship as I ate. Apparently, the two women were still asleep. I finished eating, had a second cup of coffee, and did some hard thinking.
And when I was finished with both the coffee and the thinking, I put the cup away and headed aft.
I found the boxes in the stateroom behind Rebekah's compartment, just as Bayta had said, stacked neatly against the forward wall. If Rebekah couldn't have them in the same room with her, arranging them as close to her as possible was apparently her second choice. The boxes were still locked, but I wasn't expecting that to be a serious problem. Getting out my multi-tool, I knelt down in front of one of them and got to work.
I was nearly there when through my knees I felt the subtle vibration of the door sliding open behind me. "Morning, Rebekah," I said, not turning around. "Did you sleep well?"
"Very well, Mr. Compton, thank you," she said. "May I ask what you're doing?"
"Just curious," I told her. "I wanted to see what this new improved Modhran coral looked like."
"I see," she said calmly. "Would you like me to get you the key?"
"That's okay—I've got it," I assured her. With a final twist of my wrist, and accompanied by a screech of tortured metal, the lock popped open. Setting the multitool aside, I lifted the lid.
It was Modhran coral, all right, soaking in about a two-thirds depth of gently sloshing water. To me, it looked the same as all the rest of the Modhran coral I'd encountered over the years.
"Were you expecting it to look different?" Rebekah asked.
"I don't know," I said, finally swiveling around to face her. She had on a knee-length nightshirt, a
nd her eyes still looked half asleep. The coral had probably woken her up when I started knocking on his door. "I guess I was," I amended. "Stupid of me, I suppose."
"Not stupid," she said. "When the heart changes, we somehow expect the face to change, too."
"Very insightful," I said. "Especially for a ten-year-old from a backwater world."
That earned me a wry smile. "You don't think we have any culture on New Tigris?" she asked innocently.
"I'm sure you're just dripping with the stuff," I assured her. "And you're right. We do expect to see outward signs of inward changes."
"With people, I think that's actually required." She gestured. "But you have to remember, this is just a lump of coral."
"So it is," I agreed, looking over my shoulder at it. Time for a little experiment. Half turning back toward the box, I reached a hand toward it.
"Don't touch it," Rebekah said sharply.
I paused with my hand still hovering over the box. "Why not?" I asked. "I thought this was a kinder breed of Modhran coral."
"No, this is a breed of Modhran coral under Melding control," she corrected me tartly. "I told you I don't know what would happen if it left that control. I really don't know what would happen if you took a polyp colony out of it on your own."
"You're probably right," I conceded, withdrawing my hand and swiveling again to face her. Not that I'd actually intended to touch the damn stuff in the first place, of course. "I get the feeling it's kind of like a trained attack dog that only responds to its handler's voice."
"Maybe," she said. "I don't know anything about attack dogs."
"You're not missing much," I said. "So where exactly is it you and your friends are planning to go?"
"I already told you," she said. "Sibbrava."
"A small, underpopulated planet where visitors are noted and endlessly discussed by the locals?" I shook my head. "I don't think so. You wouldn't get to the sunward side of the transfer station before the whole system would be buzzing with news and rumors about you."
"Nevertheless, that is where we're going," Rebekah said.