Changing Vision

by Julie E. Czerneda

“So what’s changed? You couldn’t beat me when I was a kid,” Lefebvre retorted, then found his gaze trapped and held by Paul’s, his mind caught by memories of a kitchen filled with friendship and wondrous stories. “Trust you, is it?” he said, hearing the ragged edge in his own voice. “Just like that? No explanations.”

  “Just like that, Rudy,” Paul repeated, not pleading, the way Lefebvre imagined some mythical king would demand an oath of loyalty before battle. There was no doubt in Paul’s voice or expression: none of himself, none of his right to ask, and, Lefebvre realized with an inner shock, no doubt of Lefebvre’s answer.

  Lefebvre gave a sigh that felt as if it came from his very soul, shuddering its way through his body until it washed the burn of anger and tension away, leaving something closer to control. “As I said,” he offered not-quite-casually, “what’s changed?” He took another, steadying breath and felt the universe firm itself around him. “We’ve been here too long already. You able to move around? Bess will want to see you.”

  Not quite smiling, Paul nodded once, as if hearing more. His grip on Lefebvre’s shoulder tightened briefly before letting go. “Is she all right?” he asked almost lightly, except for the intensity of his gaze. “Do you know where she is?”

  “I believe, Homs, I can help in that regard,” Logan said from behind them both. Lefebvre whirled, then froze, the biodisrupter in Logan’s giant hand looking as familiar and deadly as it had on D’Dsel, if smaller. Noticing his attention, Logan waved the weapon casually. “A gift from my good friend here—Paul Ragem.” When Lefebvre didn’t react, Logan pretended to scowl. “Not a surprise, I see. And no blood on the floor. How thoroughly disappointing, Captain Lefebvre. You really don’t know how to properly hold a grudge, do you?”

  “Try me,” Lefebvre said, even though he knew better than to bait Logan.

  “Perhaps, later, Captain. Right now we are all going to meet a young lady.” Logan’s attention shifted to Paul. “Who may have had a little accident, I’m afraid.”

  “If she did, you’d better be, Logan,” Paul said, as if oblivious to which hand held sudden death, his face grown so ashen its skin showed fingerprints within the bruises.

  Lefebvre remembered that voice, with its utter and convincing undertone of threat, whispering into his own ear. Then, Paul had been protecting his Panacian companion and his own identity from Lefebvre. It was ironic, Lefebvre found time to tell himself, that Paul’s act had indirectly brought them back together. Now, they were both desperate to protect another of Paul’s friends.

  Some thoughts were the slippery, fish-underbelly sort—the kind that tried to surface at moments when other things, including saving one’s life, should have been paramount.

  Lefebvre had that kind of thought now, a bizarre thought attempting to coalesce three names into meaning: Ragem. Kearn.

  And a young girl Paul was willing to die for, named—Bess.

  Lefebvre refused to think it.

  It was easy, when Logan began to smile.

  29: Hydroponics Morning

  TWO of my latest nightmares walked through the open door together: Logan being the one and Lefebvre in the presence of a completely recognizable Paul Ragem being the other.

  Interesting how the cosmic gods worked overtime, just for me.

  I hid behind the meager protection of the open locker door, and watched through the crack between the hinges.

  Paul looked much better, something I would have found vastly more encouraging if there hadn’t been a biodisrupter pressed into his cheek. There were reasons, I said to myself in frustration, not to carry lethal weapons when traveling. I trusted he’d listen to me next time.

  The three of them were alone. Logan reached back to close the door and lock it. With anyone else, I would have thought this gave us the advantage.

  I trembled.

  Paul’s eyes were searching; I saw them linger over the hydroponics tank, then move on quickly as though afraid to reveal too much.

  Lefebvre’s eyes were riveted on Logan, which surprised me. I’d have thought he would focus on his long-sought prey, so close at hand. There was something fragile about him, as though he’d had one too many shocks lately. I could sympathize.

  All of us jumped when Logan said, “Call her.” His precise voice was frayed around the edges. “Now.”

  Of the three Humans, Paul was the most composed—perhaps the closest to falling flat on his face as well, but he’d always been good at hiding That sort of thing from me. “You know I won’t,” he answered as if humoring a madman. Careful, I said to myself.

  “Then I will,” Logan said easily, though his sweating face was anything but calm. He tightened his free hand into a fist the size of my head and swung it at Lefebvre. The Human ducked, but not in time to miss all of the blow. It sent him against the railing. He whirled, crouched as if to spring, but stilled as Logan stepped back and waved the biodisrupter between them both.

  “Which one, Ghost?” Logan said loudly, the words echoing around the pipes and dampness. “If it’s all the same to you, I’d prefer to kill your Paul later—he and I haven’t finished our conversations.”

  “You’re talking about a little girl, Logan,” Lefebvre objected, his face flushed. “She’s no ghost.”

  “Ah, but only ghosts can disappear. Am I not correct, Hom Ragem?”

  Paul was wonderful. “You’re the expert on vengeful spirits, Inspector,” he said, with just the right touch of sincerity. Keep him uncertain, I agreed silently.

  “An expert. Perhaps.” Logan kept the weapon aimed as he walked over to the tank controls and killed the jets. The water seethed, then calmed. The comparative silence rang in my ears. “I pushed this little girl of yours. She fell into the tank. And disappeared. Is this how a spirit behaves?”

  Lefebvre said something incoherent and turned to look frantically into the water. Paul reached out and grabbed his shoulder. “He’s baiting us, cousin. She’s not in there.”

  Cousin? I almost fell out of the locker.

  “Ghost girl!” Logan called, sweeping the room with his pale eyes. “You’d better show up soon. I won’t wait here all night.” He pulled out a small stick from his pocket. “Unless I have something to do,” he corrected, as if a child offered a new toy.

  I couldn’t tell from here what the stick might be, but I could read enough in the abrupt way Lefebvre moved to stand in front of Paul to understand it wasn’t anything pleasant. Not that it would be, I chided myself, with Logan looking happy about it.

  Logan shook the device. It lengthened and began to make a hissing sound. A blister stick.

  Paul tried to shove Lefebvre out of his way. They had to be related, I decided. Certainly they showed the same lack of sense when it came to avoiding danger.

  Enough was enough. I reached into the locker and threw the main power switch, plunging the room into pitch darkness.

  It was a good plan. I heard a tremendous splash as I hurried forward, one hand on the railing so I wouldn’t join whoever was already swimming in broth, congratulating myself on my timing.

  Then again. The emergency lighting came on at the same moment a wet hand wrapped itself like a band of steel around my leg and dragged me into the tank.

  “Welcome, Ghost.”

  The liquid lapped about Logan’s waist; it would have reached my chin, but he’d switched his grip from my leg to my hair to yank me up from under the water. I hung from his hand, tears of pain in my eyes, and thought quite seriously of the living mass now drying on my arms and swirling past my legs.

  Paul’s “No, Bess!” came right about the moment I’d thought of the ideal form. I rolled my eyes to glare at him.

  Perhaps I was being hasty, despite my current discomfort, I decided. The steady aim of the biodisrupter in Lefebvre’s hand was a factor I hadn’t considered.

  “Let her go,” Lefebvre ordered. “Now.”

  In answer, Logan swept me up in his massive arms and held me cradled against his chest in a parody of care that
would have been more believable if he hadn’t been squeezing the breath out of this form. I glared harder at Paul, wondering how much of this he expected me to put up with, and raised my body temperature to cope. “Shoot me, then,” Logan suggested. “Maybe the ghost won’t die.”

  Lefebvre’s aim didn’t alter. “You aren’t leaving with her,” he stated.

  Logan ignored this, looking down at me, his eyes hard and triumphant. I didn’t care much for his breath either. “Real. I knew you had to be real.”

  “You’d be surprised,” I muttered with what little air I had in my lungs.

  Most Humans couldn’t have done what he did next. Logan waded to the side of the tank and, keeping me against his chest as a shield, climbed out using one of the jet intakes as a step, lifting his leg easily over the rail. I found myself amazed Paul and Lefebvre had managed to throw this behemoth into the tank in the first place. Perhaps they’d just dodged and Logan tripped himself.

  Paul walked over to the door and stood in front of it, his eyes hard as ice. “Put her down, Logan.”

  Logan obeyed, setting me down in front of him with his hand curled loosely around my neck. For the first time, I felt a twinge of personal fear and my temperature began soaring out of control. He could conceivably snap my spine before I cycled from this shape. I could die, I thought in disbelief and with a certain amount of aggravation. The alternative, to cycle before he tried, meant exposing my web-self to his eyes and Lefebvre’s.

  As if reading my thoughts, Paul said very softly, “Careful, Bess,” which probably seemed an odd thing to say, given the situation as Logan and Lefebvre likely saw it.

  “You don’t need her, Logan,” Paul said next. “I’ll tell you what you want to know.”

  At this, Lefebvre—who’d joined Paul in front of the only exit, keeping his weapon aimed at Logan for whatever good he thought it might do in the present standoff—nodded as if unsurprised. “You heard him,” he said.

  Logan shifted his hand to my shoulder, engulfing most of it and my upper arm. I swallowed tentatively, resisting the impulse to feel my throat. “All right, Ragem. Where is the Kraal’s living weapon? You took it, didn’t you?”

  “Yes. I was working with the Kraal.” I took comfort from Paul’s expression, there being something in the combination of intent gaze and deliberate calm reminiscent of several instances in which his gifts had exploded in my face. “What you want is on an asteroid in the Iftsen System.”

  Logan laughed, a chilling derisive sound. “You’ll have to lie better than that, Ragem. The Iftsen have no weapons. Or need for them.”

  “They do now. You know about the Feneden—Rudy would have told you.” I saw Lefebvre’s lips press into an even grimmer line at this reminder. “They’ve been raiding Iftsen Secondus. Why do you think Kearn is so ready to deal with the Feneden?” Paul continued. “He’s not after me—he’s after what he thinks is his monster.” A dramatic pause. “We both know what it really is. A biological weapon of unheard-of power. And the Iftsen have it. The Feneden—and Kearn—are going to try and get it.”

  “The Iftsen.” Logan rolled the name over his tongue. “You’re telling me you no longer have this weapon. They do?”

  “They needed something deadly—and now—to deal with the Feneden’s attacks. That’s why they brought me to their ship—to arrange delivery.” Paul paused. “Let her go. I’ll give you the exact coordinates.”

  Logan’s hand slipped caressingly down my arm, making me shudder. “Hom Ragem. Really, you remain such a fool.”

  “He can’t let her go, Paul,” Lefebvre said angrily. “Don’t you see? How else can he control us?”

  Since I was reasonably sure Paul was more worried about controlling me, I didn’t view this as much of a concern, although I found myself quite warmed by Lefebvre’s inclusion of himself.

  Then, with the sort of artless symmetry many species called luck, the Vegas Lass chose that moment to remind us we were not, in fact, alone.

  A shrill, doubled whistle sounded, accompanied by a strobelike increase in the lighting intensity: the proximity warning, usually a signal to the freight handlers to head midships to prepare for the exchange of cargo with an incoming ship. I presumed, in this case, it signaled the arrival of the ship I’d sensed earlier. Such a routine docking did not bode well for it being rescue.

  Logan, who perhaps knew more about this than I, picked me up, wrenching my arm painfully in the process. At my cry, Paul rushed forward and Lefebvre looked torn between guarding the door and helping us.

  I blew up.

  It wasn’t my fault. I’d done my utmost to control the urge to cycle, but the stress of the conflict was too much to bear. All the energy building up as my molecules resisted their imprisonment in this shape released simultaneously.

  Feeling much better, I scrounged enough living mass from the puddles on the floor to return to Human form within a heartbeat and peered around to see what had happened.

  Logan wasn’t dead. Thank Ersh. I had no wish to see him live, but I also had no intention of becoming a murderer. He appeared somewhat bent, hanging unconscious over the railing. A little discomfort served him right.

  I went to check on the other two. Paul must have had some inkling—he’d managed to cover his face and duck, so only his clothing and arms were blackened. He shook his head at the sight of me, then shrugged off his shirt with a wince and tossed it into my hands. I took it, putting it on as I waited for the groaning, sooty lump that was Lefebvre to look up.

  There were several ways this could go, I thought uneasily. It didn’t make me feel any more confident to see how Paul’s hand snaked out and surreptitiously recaptured his weapon from the floor.

  Lefebvre blinked like an owl, the whites of his eyes startling against the ring of black coating his face. He rolled to his feet and faced me in a lithe movement that brought Paul to attention, his own eyes narrowing dangerously. Another of those pivotal moments, I noted, wishing to have avoided this one altogether.

  “Kearn’s Monster,” Lefebvre named me, breathing heavily and teeth flashing in an unidentifiable grimace. “You’re Kearn’s Monster. The Esen Monster.”

  “I’m no such thing,” I answered primly, still trying to do up the shirt. “I’m a sensible, civilized being.” I ignored a choking sound from Paul.

  Lefebvre appeared to consider this statement for a moment, then tilted his head, still staring at me. “Do you—explode often?” he ventured, as if fearing a repeat performance.

  I felt my face heat up, blushing being another Human inconvenience. Beside Lefebvre, Paul visibly relaxed, a smile starting at one corner of his mouth. I glared at him. “Of course not,” I snapped. “That was an unfortunate accident. I was a little stressed at the time, if you remember?”

  Like someone in a dream, the Human walked over and reached out his hand as though to touch me, then dropped it to his side. “I didn’t believe in you,” he admitted, appearing as embarrassed by this as I felt about my indiscretion.

  Paul’s voice had definite laughter under it. “Rudy Lefebvre,” he said formally. “Meet the remarkable and utterly unique Esen-alit-Quar.”

  “Es,” I informed my new Human friend, “for short.” I held out my hand and, after a brief pause, Lefebvre took it in the warmth of his larger one and began to smile broadly—a striking effect on his soot-streaked face.

  “Now,” I said briskly, relieved to have passed this hurdle without further mayhem but knowing the next lay beyond the locked door. “May I have your belt, please?”

  Elsewhere

  WITH any luck, he’d soon face the Esen Monster.

  At the thought, Kearn rolled over and keyed up the light in his cabin. He pulled the blankets higher on his shoulders, a cold sweat having broken out all over his body. It wasn’t easy getting to sleep these shipnights. It wasn’t easy waking up either, so he’d had to stop using the sedatives.

  Fifty years of searching and failure—of mockery. Victory and vindication in one!
/>   So why was he terrified?

  Timri assured him the Russell III was armed and ready. Sas was quivering with delight—and allergy medication. His Kraal backer had confirmed the Monster’s vulnerability. They could kill it, Kearn reminded himself, curling his body into a miserable ball.

  But no. He had to risk his life and catch the damned thing.

  His mysterious backer had been most—adamant.

  The Feneden, Kearn knew, weren’t going to like this modification to their common goals. They’d responded to the idea of confronting and destroying their culture’s legendary demon with what amounted to religious fervor.

  The ship would land on Iftsen Secondus in the morning. N’Klet had locked herself in her cabin, citing a lack of guidance from her Queen and her determination to avoid participating in anything Kearn had planned. There would be Panacian ships in the Iftsen system to take her home. Kearn looked forward to that.

  The Esen Monster was a different story. He whimpered and pulled the blanket right over his head, leaving on the light. He’d spent fifty years chasing down the creature.

  He just knew their meeting was not going to go well. Not well at all.

  30: Hydroponics Afternoon

  NATURALLY, the belt was too long. My next form would be one that considered an earring or two to be well-dressed, I promised myself. Paul helped me loop the ends so I wouldn’t trip, while Lefebvre stood with his ear to the door. None of us expected a very long reprieve.

  The Humans had cleaned themselves, after a fashion. The cells had again settled to the bottom of the tank, so they’d been able to splash relatively clear water over themselves. Lefebvre had found some cabling in a locker to tie up Logan. I glanced over to where the giant lay against one wall. Considering it had taken both Paul and Lefebvre straining at their limit to haul him off the railing and secure the cables around his arms and body, I was just as happy Logan remained unconscious.

  Paul stood, looking down at his former tormentor. I watched him, understanding all too well the rage and revulsion making the muscles on his bruised arms and back shudder. He reached down to unclasp his medallion, careful not to touch the other Human at all, as though any contact between them would snap Paul’s mastery over himself. I doubted any other Human I knew, including Lefebvre, could have succeeded as well.