"LET me do that," I offered.
Ragem shook his head, at the same time performing an awkward yet successful twist with his fork to bring most of a scoop of meat into his mouth. "Broke my collarbone skiing few years ago," he confessed after chewing and swallowing. "This," he chinned the sling locking his right arm and hand to his chest, "is about the same."
I would have preferred to help. The wound hampering him he'd taken to save Ansky and me—the gesture no less meaningful for being unnecessary. I'd never felt such gratitude to another being before, not even within my Web, and wasn't completely sure how to dispose of the emotion. A remarkable being, I reminded myself, if a bit too impulsive to be a survivor.
We ate in companionable silence for a while, my own appetite far too great to be normal for a Ket. I felt unsettled when I considered it, and longed for a good long stretch as myself. Out there, added some new craving inside, remembering the vast clean sweep of space. Life did seem simpler in vacuum.
But what actions I could take had to be here and now. "Skalet's trap isn't going to work," I said flatly, watching for Ragem's reaction. He merely chased a playful vegetable around his plate for a moment. "I don't care how confident she is. We need another plan."
His eyes flicked up to me, their gray darkened by the low lighting in the dining room. The Quartos Ank's cook believed in atomosphere. "We're going to need a great deal more than that, Es."
"What do you mean?" I studied his thin face.
Ragem put down his fork, then startled me by using his teeth to pull up the sleeve covering his arm. He spat out the fabric and shoved his exposed wrist toward me. It was coated in medplas. Of course, I realized, staring up at his now-set features. The implant. I'd forgotten.
"I was groggy after waking up," Ragem went on, shaking his head in disgust. "It took me a while to remember. The emergency beacon must have activated when that tree tried to go through me."
"I felt it. At least you weren't dead," I added, the memory of that relief crystal clear.
His mouth twisted and he shook the sleeve back down. "You could have fooled me," he said a bit too lightly, as if to shrug away the discomfort of his own experience. I could have told him it wasn't that easy. "The med removed it, but it broadcast from the last night in the valley until the ship left the system. That signal will be passed along by any Commonwealth ship that picks it up. They'll be able to get a triangulation."
"So Kearn knows where we've been—maybe even where we are."
"It's not as though I had a choice about it—"
I silenced him by touching his hand with my fingertips. "I wasn't accusing, Paul-Human." My fingers fluttered involuntarily. "I wonder what Skalet did with your signaling device on the Trium Set; if she hasn't destroyed it yet, Kearn could be receiving some very confusing information about now."
Ragem didn't share my amusement. "Minimum damage," he recited, as if making a report. "Kearn will contact Artos. He'll find out what happened there. The Captain tells me ships were leaving the spaceport like leaves before a hurricane even before we were back on board."
"Those ships only know that the Church of Bones was likely to ban non-Articans," I thought out loud. "Hardly a surprise. If the story of what happened to Ansky spreads, why would they make anything more from it than some local, possibly mythic event?"
"Kearn knows the questions to ask," he disagreed. "How long before he puts it all together? How long before he realizes Nimal-Ket was not what she seemed?" He hesitated, then went on with the air of someone burning bridges behind him. "As for me? Kearn's going to figure my connection out pretty fast. I can handle that." He toyed with his food for a moment, as though reluctant to speak, but before I could say anything, he looked up at me with a suspicious brightness to his eyes and added: "The hard part's my friends and family. They'll believe I'm dead." Ragem raised his arm. "What else could they think, with the emergency beacon ending all at once?"
The Human was right, I thought mournfully, though he didn't have my own dark addition to the list: How was Ersh going to take this news? At least Ragem had the prospect of returning to his life and Web once this was over. "Let's just hope my Enemy hasn't been busy lately. Kearn doesn't need any more fuel for his paranoia about me." I stood. "I think I'd better send a message to Skalet."
Before I could take a step, the door opened and two Kraal marched into the room, weapons drawn and aimed directly at Ragem. "Our pardon for interrupting your meal, Madame Ket, Horn Ragem. The Captain would like to see you both," one of them said politely. "Now."
Neither Ragem nor I had an easy time explaining to Captain Hubbar-ro why Ragem had had a Commonwealth implant in the first place, let alone convincing the overprotective Kraal he shouldn't lock my friend in the Quartos Ank's brig. Of course Skalet would have to give me a ship that had one, I thought with disgust. Skalet-memory conveniently reminded me that all Confederacy ships were so equipped.
I had to give the Kraal credit; he listened willingly enough. "Paul-Human did inform S'kal-ru about the signaling device on the Trium Set, didn't he?" I argued. Again.
"He could have told us about the implant at the same time and had it removed before coming on my ship," Hubbar-ro said reasonably. "I am still unclear as to why your associate would require a Commonwealth emergency beacon in the first place. More serpitay, Madame Ket?"
As typical for Kraal leadership, this meeting—no matter that it was tense and involved fundamental issues of ship's security—had to be held in a civilized manner. So Ragem and I sat in chairs almost as overwhelmingly comfortable as those on the Trium Set and sipped our second glass of ceremonial wine. Unfortunately, we were both too full from dinner to appreciate the plate of essentials. Hubbar-ro, on the other hand, must have either missed the meal or be a nervous eater. His hand stole to the plate again.
"This Ket has been placed in command by S'kal-ru," I resorted to finally, perhaps lacking the requisite air of authority in this form, but he knew I was right. "Paul-Human shares my affiliation to her and her cause. She will decide on this matter."
"You will allow me to confirm with S'kal-ru." This wasn't a question.
I gave him a quelling look. I hoped it was quelling. "If we may already be followed, does it make sense to send any communications that might be monitored?"
"But—"
"Of course we must contact S'kal-ru, Captain," I soothed. "But we will not send sensitive information unless it becomes absolutely necessary. Is that clear?"
It had taken a bit more than that, but I had talked Hubbar-ro into letting me send the message I wanted. Skalet was much less cooperative.
"This is not a secure link," I warned her again.
Following the lag, mere seconds as the Quartos Ank's com system sent the plus translight burst carrying what I said, then retrieved the response and sorted it out, there were several words in sequence my Ketself had a bit of trouble translating, not being a species that used expletives. A waste of very expensive technology, I thought to myself. But descriptive.
"S'kal-ru," I said when that seemed all that was in the message, "we'll be there by tomorrow night. I can explain—"
"Trailing who knows what behind you."
I didn't argue.
"You're sure about Ansky," she continued.
"There is no doubt."
"Tomorrow, then, Madame Ket. With your friend."
* * *
Out There
HIS eyes hadn't left it. After four hours or so, he found himself blinking constantly, but Joel Largas had no intention of so much as turning his head, not even to see who belonged to the footsteps approaching him now. "Any response?" he whispered, as if that thing out there could hear him, irrationally convinced it would understand if it did.
"One," the voice belonged to Char's half-sib, Denny, a young man whose preoccupation with his future as a performance musician had been left behind with his instruments. Joel found himself lost for an instant, remembering Denny's mother—a fine starship astrogator who'd believed fi
rmly in following one's own passions even when it meant having a son who didn't want any of what she could offer. She'd shared her confused pride with him the last time they'd renewed their temp-contract.
Her ship had been lost long before the fatal attack on Garson's World.
"Captain?"
Joel pulled himself into the present, refocusing on the blue leeched to the lifepod. They hadn't told Anna's Best's captain yet. No one knew what to say. "Yes, Denny. Who was it? Are they close enough to help?"
Denny's voice contained a note of strain; he deliberately didn't look outside. "It's a Commonwealth ship—a First Contact vessel called the Rigus. Acting Captain Kearn. Char didn't know the name."
"First Contact? What the hell are they doing out here?" Joel didn't expect an answer and didn't wait for one. "At least they'll be armed. How soon can they be here?"
"There's some confusion about that, Captain. This Kearn wants proof we're refugees. Seems to think our distress call is some kind of trick by the Kraal Confederacy."
He hadn't thought he could laugh, but he did.
"What's so funny?"
"That's not even the right war," Joel gasped, then clamped shut his lips over what could easily become hysteria. He'd seen enough of it in others to know no one was immune. "Stay here. Let me know if anything out there changes."
He looked out the viewport one last time, wondering what they could do if anything did.
* * *
44: Cruiser Night
« ^ »
SKALET hadn't waited for the Quartos Ank to come to where she and her small fleet sat in ambush. Instead, she'd pulled out the Trium Set and met us on the way. While I appreciated the speed, I was less appreciative of her reaction to what had happened. Maybe I was being ephemeral, as Ersh would say, but I expected at least some compassion for what I'd been through, some grief for Ansky. From Skalet? I should have known better.
"Her attachments led to her ruin," Skalet repeated. "I want this to be a lesson to you, youngest. There is a difference between successfully living among a species and imagining yourself part of it."
No danger of that for you, I thought rebelliously, glancing around Skalet's quarters, with its war maps and ambush plans.
"Ansky followed the Rules. She tried to protect the Web and other intelligences from harm," I said without trying to control my temper. "Do you advise me against this?"
Her lovely voice developed a sting in return. "You fool! She did just the opposite. What precipitated the crisis on Artos if not this—this exhibition of a death?! She showed herself to aliens! Ansky broke the First Rule! Do not reveal the web-form or abilities to those outside the Web. It seems clear enough, youngest.'"
I refused to back down. "Correct me if my memory errs, Skalet, but since no one else has died this way before, how was she to know what would happen?"
Her delicate nostrils flared, once, distorting the tattoos under her skin as though they moved of themselves. "Her concern should have been with the species as a whole, not with individuals. And it should have been with those she observed, the Articans, not this plaything she kept. A distinction you seem to blur as well." This last had a warning bite to it.
"Fine," I snapped. "Ansky should have known better than to die before our Enemy could find and eat her." This was getting us nowhere. I waved one hand in surrender. "Believe what you will, Skalet. I've no interest in arguing about what can't be changed. What do we do now?"
She paced away from where I crouched, then returned, her scowl gone but the deeply troubled look on her face warning me we weren't quite done scolding Esen. "First, we have to do something about your Human," she announced. "We must be rid of him before he discovers your true nature."
Ersh was fond of sharing with me the pivotal moments in the history of species, cultural events, or evolutionary changes dictating this path and no other would be taken. I knew from my own recent experiences there were also pivotal moments in the lives of individuals.
I faced one now, as I stared at my instructor, my Elder, the one whose flesh was my flesh. How well I understood her motives. As one in the Web, I shared them. As Esen-alit-Quar I could not.
I felt my growing separateness, my individuality, weighing like a noose around my neck. Perhaps I merely pulled on my hoobit too hard. Or perhaps I was closer than I had ever been to understanding what made Ersh so unique among us. Whether I was supposed to think in terms of species rather than persons was irrelevant. I knew what was right. "You will not threaten or harm Paul Ragem," I stated flatly, as sure of this as I was of the number of molecules in this body. "I want that quite clear between us, Skalet."
"What is clear is that you have lost your perspective, 'tween. Ersh should have kept you home for another century at least!"
Odd how calm, how controlled I felt. "You are welcome to share that with her," I shrugged. "Just make no mistake with me, my sister. Ragem is as close to me as though we were one flesh. I trust him with my life—and I owe him his."
"Just how much trust have you given this ephemeral, Esen the foolish?" Skalet's eyes suddenly widened, her face turning a ghastly white under the tattoos. "You've told him about us, haven't you!" It never paid to underestimate Skalet. She darted toward the door and I intercepted her, suffering a painful kick in the knee as we collided. "Out of my way!" There was nothing lovely about her voice or face now.
I cycled. Share! I sent. Learn! I demanded.
Ragem kept his face carefully neutral, but his gray eyes flicked uneasily from Skalet to me and then back again. "That's the whole story," he finished, spreading his hands outward. "I've been helping Es track down this killer—trying to, anyway. If you won't accept our friendship as motivation enough, then believe I can't sit by and watch innocent beings slaughtered in cold blood, not if I can do something to prevent it. Who could?"
Not a particularly good question in present company, I thought, watching Skalet for her reaction. She'd been very subdued, most unSkaletlike behavior, since assimilating what I'd forced her to share: my feelings for Ragem, his actions to save me and to save Ansky. In exchange, I learned more about the results of waging war in space than I'd wanted to, but neither of us felt inclined to forbearance with the other.
"I tasted the start of all this on Picco's Moon," she said at last, looking down at her steepled fingers, long, elegant hands owing nothing to a common evolution with the Human across the table from us both. "Esen, what have you done? Have you any idea what this being Kearn may do? He is obviously someone of influence, who can convince others."
"Only to a point, S'kal-ru," Ragem offered, diplomatically keeping to the name matched to the form she wore. "So far he's had a bit of evidence to wave in front of his superiors. Not much, but sufficient to arouse curiosity. He doesn't have the reputation to carry on this hunt for Esen—for your kind—any farther if there's a setback. Frankly, I'm surprised he hasn't been recalled already."
"Shouldn't we be more concerned with the enemy than any possible threat in the future from Kearn?" I interjected, knowing Skalet only barely accepted Ragem's presence and his knowledge of us; I deemed it safer not to let her focus her attention on him too long. "He doesn't have the confidence of his crew or superiors, S'kal-ru. I expect he's going to lose what credibility he has—"
"Unless he can find something else," Skalet finished for me. "This being hunting us," a quick doubtful look to Ragem before she carefully chose another word, "this predator. Is it possible we can maneuver them together? Regardless of the outcome, it could deflect attention from us."
Ragem didn't so much as flinch, although I knew he immediately thought of Tomas, and all the others he cared for on the Rigus. I'd forewarned him that Skalet was ruthless; still, I hadn't expected him to handle her so well. He'd earned those alien culture specialist bars somewhere, I reminded myself. "Would it not be much better, S'kal-ru," he suggested mildly, "if Kearn goes away safely from such a meeting, having been convinced that this menace is not the same type of being as yourselves, somethi
ng he currently believes to be true."
Skalet glared at me and I rolled my eyes. Did she think I'd tell Ragem the Enemy was one of us? If I hadn't, she certainly wouldn't.
The Human, however, drew his own interpretation of our sudden silence. "Kearn is wrong," he half-stated, half-asked, staring at us both. "It is something different, isn't it?"
My "Of course!" and Skalet's "How could you think—!" overlapped into a confused muttering that obviously didn't reassure a now somewhat haggard-looking Ragem. I could see his point. Here he was, alone in a room with two very alien beings whose existence only he knew about, on a ship crewed by Humans who owed complete loyalty to one of us, supposedly chasing an incredibly deadly and bloodthirsty creature. A creature he suddenly suspected could be one of us.
Character builder, Ersh would call it, I acknowledged to myself, curious what he would do next.
What Ragem did was leap away from the table, stumbling backward until his shoulders hit the wall with an audible thud. From the look on his face, he was planning to stay there.
"I think I'll check on the fleet," Skalet said hastily. The look she gave me as she scurried from the room was frankly triumphant, doubtless because she thought I was about to lose Ragem's support and have to allow her to kill him. I really hoped not.
* * *
45: Brig Morning
« ^ »
SKALET knew her Humans, I had to give her that. Ragem did not take my confession that our Enemy was a web-being at all well. At least I'd been able to save his life—for now. But he wasn't happy with me.
Of course, that could have been the compromise I worked out with Skalet, namely locking Ragem in the brig until he calmed down and saw reason.
Since these were events over which I had no control and which weren't my fault, I thought it unfair of the Human to blame me. Which was the interpretation I put on his sitting on the bunk, back deliberately to me, when I tried to talk to him the next morning. The guard outside the door had already told me Ragem hadn't eaten his breakfast. I wasn't surprised. The Trium Set's brig was a thoroughly tasteless affair, a metal-walled box with a bunk, sleeping pad, and a 'fresher stall in one corner for necessities. A suitable spot to repent sins, I supposed, especially in an aesthetics-driven society, but hardly a reasonable place for my friend and ally.
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