“Show you what?” I interrupted again, completely exasperated. “For all you knew, my species might not have had comparable emotions to yours at all. An Ervickian in a life-threatening situation with beloved crèche-mates will eat them, and they’re civilized! How humanocentric are you?”
“It wasn’t that, Es,” Paul said carefully. “I had to prove to them once and for all that you were incapable of violence against others. The Feneden’s trap was the perfect opportunity.” Paul seemed to become oblivious of the others, stepping forward until he could reach out and run his hand along the side of my jaw. I growled warningly, but permitted it. “Esen, it wasn’t fair. But it wasn’t a trick. I was prepared to die if that’s what it took. I knew you’d show them your true nature—and you did.”
“However,” Paul continued with a measuring look at the others, “You weren’t the only one being tested. And I believe I failed.”
“Of course you did,” I said. Sometimes, I thought almost happily, the universe could suddenly rearrange itself into something reasonable. I licked my friend’s hand. “I wasn’t to know about them—was I? They were supposed to remain a secret from me. That’s why Tomas came so quickly to our rescue.”
“I came as soon as I realized he was going too far,” Tomas protested, his normally ruddy complexion pale with the memory. “We were convinced, Paul. You didn’t need to keep going like that.”
“No,” I said gently. “You may be Paul’s friend, Tomas, but you didn’t come because you thought Paul was about to die. You came because you heard Paul start to tell me about you, about all of you.” None of them appeared to even breathe. Paul’s hand was on my shoulder, firmly aligning himself with me. And I with him, as it should be, I thought almost contentedly.
“You didn’t know until you overheard us that he’d given me your faces,” I went on, seeing it clearly, “so I’d recognize you before you could recognize me. Paul gave you to me in case I needed you—or you turned on me.”
“I don’t see why any of you were surprised,” Paul said to them, looking from one to the other. He didn’t sound angry, only disappointed. Like Ersh, I thought, the Human had sufficient personal charisma to turn that into something completely devastating to the recipient. “I warned you when this started, if you ever threatened Esen, if this Group of ours began to turn from support and help to anything else, I’d stop you. No matter what it took.”
To their credit, all four looked ashamed. My stomach lurched, an unnecessary reminder my time in this form was limited. I surveyed the unhappy Humans, perceiving the Web-like bonds between them. None had meant any harm to me or to Paul. All, like Kearn, believed they were protecting others.
No wonder Paul had been angry when I mistrusted the source of his gift, I thought, replaying that scene. But it hadn’t been anger at me. It had been anger at those he had trusted, who’d forced him to take this step against them. And, I thought, it was anger at himself, for taking my side against his own.
It was, I growled to myself, a typically Human mess.
As the most civilized being present, I would have to do something about it. I took my paws from the railing, thinking wistfully of the restful depths of the tank, and stepped forward. “Allowing Paul to know my true nature was the most difficult thing I had ever done,” I told them. “If it hadn’t been a matter of life or death, I wouldn’t have been able to take that risk.
“Since then, I’ve learned to value Paul as part of my Web: a relationship closer than your family groupings or life pairings. Within a Web is the sharing of—” I stopped before saying flesh, “—essence, of one’s true nature. That is what Paul is to me and I to him. This is why I cannot accept you into my Web, although I value your help.” I drew in a breath and said what I’d never dreamed I’d say. “It is possible, one day, I will. I need to understand you, and you, me. Starting with why.”
Sandner spoke first. “We each have our reasons for helping Paul—and you—and our own ways of doing it. I’ve used my position in government to discourage those hunting for you, with Tomas’ help. Timri, here,” she nodded, “has done the same on the Russell III. Kearn was the obvious threat to your identities, but there have grown to be others, less easy to detect. Captain Jen routinely patrols the edges of Kraal space, and uses her position to listen for rumors there. There are more of us—some involved in funding Paul’s network, some more active.”
Funding? I kept my tail low with an effort. Paul had access to virtually limitless funds. If he had his contacts generating their own, that could only mean he’d deliberately kept this from them. I couldn’t help but glance at him. His face had that innocent look, the one that accompanied exploding presents. Perhaps, I told myself with a depth of relief that was almost unnerving, there were still secrets.
“There are three levels of contacts, Esen,” Paul elaborated. “The first are the ones you already know: they gather data for us but have no idea who we are or what we do with the information. The second are those like Meony-ro. He’s trusted and knows we guard against a recurrence of what happened when Death came through this sector. He doesn’t know about web-beings or you, Es.
“The third are those faces I’ve shown you, plus Tomas and Lawrenk. If I’d put their faces in the list, you would have known what I was doing before I was prepared to tell you.” Timri’s gaze slid his way at the same time as I thought: what of Lefebvre? And she knows you’ve left him out. Interesting.
Secrets inside secrets. I had the feeling it was going to be a long time before Paul completely trusted these individuals again, if ever.
“Why you, Sandner?” I asked.
“I was on Hixtar Station when that—that thing began attacking shipping in the Fringe,” he answered. “I lost—people I cared about.” Something in the abrupt words reminded me of Joel Largas, whenever memories of Death’s attack on his convoy came back to haunt him. “You saved a lot of lives, Fem Esen-alit-Quar, when you killed it.”
“Esen, please,” I said impulsively. “The full name—well, it makes me feel I’m in trouble.”
Sandner looked startled, then half-smiled. It warmed his eyes nicely. “Esen.”
“I was on the Tly blockade when this Death creature attacked us. Later, I saw you help kill it.” This surprising comment came from the woman named Timri. She raised her chin. “I was the first one Paul trusted with your secret. I’d tracked him to Minas XII, when he was still searching for you. He found me, instead.”
Tomas grinned. “I found Paul. We accidentally took the same transport to Ultari. When I spotted him in the lounge, I couldn’t believe my eyes. Then I pestered until he had to trust me or put me out of my misery.” I didn’t look at Paul, but I found it singularly unlikely my very cautious Human would actually take any transport carrying an old acquaintance, let alone spend time sitting in a public area. There was a definite pattern here, whether these Humans noticed it or not.
It was as though they were drawn to confessions. Lawrenk Jen spoke next: “I’d helped Kearn convince Joel Largas to send a ship to the ag-colony. I was hoping Paul was the one signaling. When the Largas ship didn’t find him, I was—angry.” She looked suddenly ashamed. “I took leave and chased down Char Largas, ready to accuse her of cheating us and abandoning Paul. You can imagine how I felt when Paul met me at the door of their home.”
They all fell silent. From their expressions, they were awaiting some pronouncement of doom. While I appreciated the irony of being on the other side of this type of worry for a change, I didn’t know what they expected me to do. Then Paul winked at me, and pointed with his chin to the tank.
I shuddered, a movement that brought up the fur along my spine. “Are you sure about this?” I asked Paul outright. “You’ve seen me. I’m not exactly—” I reached for a word, settling for a lame: “comfortable.”
Sandner turned pale as a ghost, Timri shivered as though seeing one, while Lawrenk and Tomas looked determined. Paul collected nods from them one by one.
“Show them, Es. T
hen hide. I’ll look after things here.”
Another test, my friend, I thought. Do you realize it? I met his earnest, intense eyes and knew he did. I didn’t blame him. This was a Human need: to ask me to demonstrate my utter trust, not of these relative strangers, but of him.
As I cycled into the perfection of my web-form, losing sight, sound, and gaining all else, I gave it without hesitation.
Elsewhere
LEFEBVRE put his feet on his desk and pulled up the file on his comp. The messages Kearn had received from his mysterious Kraal friend had disappeared from every record; in the process, they’d tunneled their way through nearby data like Kita worms in wood.
Still, like worms, the messages had left holes. There wasn’t a detectable pattern, yet, but it was just the type of thing Timri enjoyed working on by the hour. When she came back from visiting Paul, he’d set her on it.
Lefebvre was disappointed not to see Esen or Paul again. His search of the ’Lass hadn’t turned them up on the corridor to the lift, on the lift itself, or in the air lock to the Russell’s shuttle. That was perhaps to be expected, but that was as much searching as he’d been prepared to do.
This file, on the other hand, contained a great deal that was interesting and extensive. Lefebvre gave a sigh of pure delight.
Here, he told himself smugly, was a monster worth chasing.
50: Office Morning; Dump Afternoon
THE thing about vacations, I decided, was that when you returned home, it seemed as though you hadn’t left.
I walked into the office of Cameron & Ki Exports unsure what I expected to find, but it wasn’t a desk piled head-high with work which anyone else surely could have done, and a staff who said hello, then plunged into detailed descriptions of their problems without one question about our trip.
It was absolutely and wonderfully normal.
There were a few changes and surprises. I had to promote Meony-ro immediately, finding it distinctly unnerving to watch him twirl a stylus when I’d seen the same move with a blaster rifle. It worked out well. Paul and I had never bothered with a driver before and, given the traffic rules on Minas XII, it was reassuring to have one capable of hijacking a starship.
The Panacians had, inexplicably, sent a long formal letter of apology to Paul Cameron. It had confused the staff, as the letter never did say what the apology was for, but, as it included a generous renewal of several contracts, they took it as a sign we’d done something odd but positive during our vacation.
Janet Chase was gone. She and her mercs had arrived in the shipcity, but their transport had been jumped as it passed over the far edge of the Dump. Joel Largas had a reward out—and expressed his personal interest in her capture. Paul and I thought it most likely the combination drove her outsystem immediately. Even the Dump didn’t have that many hiding places.
As for things hidden, most of our luggage, including the dreadful hats, returned piece by piece from wherever it had traveled without us. There were several odd stamps on the outsides, and a streak of purple slime on the inside of my largest trunk. I sent it all to be cleaned and settled into picking up the threads of my life as Esolesy Ki.
It was on the fourth day, when the events of the past weeks might have seemed like a dream to anyone with a lesser memory, that Paul came into my office and closed the door behind him.
“It’s been done,” he said, dropping into the chair across from my desk. It was one of his favorites, lumpy and with a fuzzy texture even a Ket might find obnoxious. “All we have to do is visit Diales and set things in motion.” Paul yawned, stretching both arms over his head, and slouched deeper into the chair. “Had a great dream last night,” he announced, grinning at me. There appeared to be very little of the executive, father, or deep, dark conspirator in him this morning. Humans back in their own beds, I thought affectionately, feeling quite rested and inclined to be cheerful myself.
I showed a tusk. “What about?”
The grin widened. “There was a lab—a really dirty, smelly lab—hidden on a really dirty, smelly planet so far off the beaten track you probably couldn’t get spurl if you tried. And in that lab, our good friends Chase and Logan were feverishly trying to get The Messenger to work, full of evil plots to take over the universe and corner the market for those hideous porcelains. Needless to say, they weren’t having much luck.”
“Porcelains?” I repeated doubtfully.
“Dreams are like that,” Paul explained unhelpfully. This entire dreaming business was confusing.
“I like it,” I decided after some consideration. The Ganthor were certainly looking for Logan—and would make a considerable noise when they found him, having every intention, I knew, of both celebrating and letting other employers know the penalties for betrayal.
“I have news—it isn’t from a dream,” I told him contentedly, “but you’ll like it. Sandner and Joel Largas have been invited to meet with the Tly Deputy Minister.” Joel had described it as a long-overdue bootlicking and, from the look in his eyes, planned some blackmail as well. “High-level negotiations about shipping and Inhaven,” I temporized. “It’s a start.”
Not fooled for an instant, Paul’s eyes twinkled. “Joel will have them cleaning freighter holds by the time he’s done. I’d love to be there.”
“You could go,” I said, flicking my ears in his direction.
“Not,” he slapped the arms of the chair and rose abruptly, “not until I’m satisfied things have settled. You ready? Diales is skittish about clients being late.”
I put an unbeaded bag around my neck, a suitably plain accessory for a visit to the Dump. It had to be in person, given the inconvenient issue of having Diales set the idents to my Lishcyn eyeballs, blood, and bone. Later, Paul would have to reset the system to obey several other biological Esens, something the notorious but respected Diales didn’t need to know.
Just then, the com on my desk buzzed. I glanced at the code. “It’s for you—from the warehouse.”
Paul looked at his chrono and muttered under his breath, but came anyway. There had been several—interesting—occurrences during his absence, including the, to him, mysterious return of some fleeceless Rillian sheep, and I knew he’d be unable to resist finding out what else might have gone awry.
I casually strolled to the office door to give him privacy, then paused to check the fall of my least favorite silks. I flicked one ear. Whatever the call was about, the voice on the other end was certainly excited about something. I watched Paul throw out his arms in exasperation.
I slipped out the door altogether.
While my Lishcyn-self’s platter-sized feet weren’t good for sneaking, they could cover a fair amount of distance in a dignified hurry. I waved good-bye to the staff, who barely noticed me, and made record time reaching the lift to the aircar parking. No sign of Meony-ro. Even better. His Kraal training seemed to be coming out more and more lately, so I’d anticipated some difficulty avoiding his company. Definitely, I thought again with some satisfaction, not an office clerk. One day, after a large amount of wine, I might ask him why his tattoos were so faded, and why he was in the Fringe.
The Kraal popped his head out of the aircar. Fates and the laughter of cosmic gods, I muttered to myself, was nothing going to work today? I didn’t have time to argue with him.
“Meony-ro, I’d like to leave immediately—” I began. “Nothing’s wrong,” I puffed hurriedly as the Kraal looked alarmed. I supposed my running was a bit out of character, although you’d have to know Lishcyns well to recognize this shambling gait as a run. Ersh, this form was slow. “I don’t want to be late.”
“ ’Bout time you got here,” said Paul, coming out from behind the aircar.
How’d he—? Then I noticed the door to the stairs was still open. I managed to slow my momentum in time to stop before running into either of them. “Paul,” I said intelligently. “I thought there was some crisis in the warehouse.”
He waved me courteously into the aircar, smiling for Meon
y-ro’s benefit, then said for my ears only, “Nice try.”
Wel, it had worked once, I thought, tempted to be petulant, but aware I had about as much chance now of getting Paul to stay behind as I had of getting my unhappy first stomach to settle. But I’d tried. There hadn’t exactly been a lot of time to prepare. Around ephemerals, I noticed, events seemed to happen considerably faster than anticipated.
As Meony-ro drove us from Cameron & Ki to our meeting place, I thought about last night. Paul and I had shared concerning the Group, as they now seemed to be called. Anything, I’d decided, was better than thinking of that conglomeration of strangers as members of my Web. It had been Human-style sharing, a long, slow conversation over more than one bottle of Inhaven wine, free of apologies. What was done, was done, as Ersh had been overly fond of saying.
And, we’d decided, what was done had to be dealt with. First, a new security system, hence today’s appointment in the Dump. Paul couldn’t be sure what might have been compromised by those members of his Group who’d felt driven to test my limits, and agreed with my somewhat hysterical wish for privacy. It would have to be state-of-the-art, he warned me. Some of the Group were quite expert in such matters—including those responsible for the definitely illegal treatment Paul had received to protect our secret from truth drugs. Not news I’d taken well, I recalled. He’d tried to reassure me by revealing that every member of the Group had undergone the treatment.
That hadn’t worked. I’d felt all of my centuries bearing down as I’d realized how this turned responsibility for their brief lives back upon me. If they’d risk themselves to keep our secret, it was up to me to ensure they never were forced into that position. The Web of Esen protected what lived and thought. To that extent, Paul’s Group was part of me now, whether I’d wanted them or not.
Hence the next step. If these individuals were to be the friends and helpers Paul had intended, rather than terrified keepers or worse, I would need to introduce them to Esen, one at a time. Paul, needless to say, hated this idea, but I’d brought him around to my point of view. Taking most of the night—and the wine. He’d been most unhappy. After all, thanks to his betrayal of the rest, their faces were safely in my memory. Paul had carefully ensured that, with the exception of Esolesy Ki’s handsome visage and my Ket-, Feneden-, and Lanivarian-selves, the Group did not know mine.
Changing Vision Page 43