Beholder's Eye

by Julie E. Czerneda

  Ching!

  "What was that?" I definitely shouted this time, not reassured as the metallic sound was immediately followed by a succession of smaller, quieter clicks. My hearts hammered, and I expected a hull breach alarm any second. "Ragem, get into a suit!"

  As he hurried to take my advice, for whatever good it would do, I stared at the sensor display. We'd hit some debris. From what?

  According to the sensors, the life pod nearest us doubled in size briefly, then suddenly winked off the display. As I watched, another life pod began to enlarge.

  A surge of energy whipped past us to consume the swelling life pod. One of the cruisers had fired on its own shipwrecked crewmates.

  There could only be one explanation.

  Our Enemy had survived and was systematically tearing its way through the pods. It was looking for me, as a fishercat might turn over stones in a stream to find grubs.

  I leaped from my seat to take the pilot's chair. "It's after me," I explained to Ragem. "It knows I'm out here. It has Skalet's memory." I fought the tendency of my hands to shake as I searched the panel for what I wanted.

  "She told you to get in a life pod," Ragem remembered in horror, struggling to get his injured arm into the stiff sleeve of the Kraal suit. At least it fit.

  I punched the translight control, not expecting Ragem to argue we were too close to the moon.

  We were far too close to something worse.

  * * *

  Out There

  TRIUMPH!

  Death assimilated, healing its wounds with new web-mass, glorying in its victory. It scoured Skalet-memory, taking what it liked: passion, ambition, a ruthlessness almost a match for its own. It would discard most as energy, instinctively keeping itself from submerging under different ideas and concepts.

  Ah!

  It collected itself and poured out of the ruined shell, feasting done, reeling in the delight of knowing its next morsel was so close.

  One of these tiny shells harbored it.

  There was a name for the taste. Esen.

  Danger! An attack came perilously close, vaporizing the shell it had just left, sending Death tumbling for a moment. Singlemindedly, it corrected its course, driving straight for the nearest life pod, cracking it open.

  Nothing but the ordinary.

  Try another. And another!

  Danger! A new attack, this time sending streaks of pain to shake Death from its preoccupation. Survival became the imperative.

  As Death fled the vengeful ships, it unthinkingly chose the path of greatest anticipation.

  Time for the Oldest.

  * * *

  51: Shuttle Night; Moon Morning

  « ^ »

  "DO WE have a plan?"

  I worked my fingers carefully around the healing wound on Ragem's back. The bruising had already faded and the Kraal meds had done an excellent job of healing the torn flesh where the branch had impaled him. Still, there would be significant damage within the ligaments and musculature of the shoulder. I concentrated on improving the blood flow to the region, hoping it gave him some relief.

  "Any plan?" Ragem repeated, his voice muffled through the folds of the blanket protecting his face from the carpet.

  I looked around me, my Ketself feeling the confinement of the shuttle's walls as safety, my true self finding it a growing and brutal restriction. The Enemy could travel where it pleased. Did I have a plan? Only to demand Ersh teach me to fly, once I was sure she was still speaking to me. The need to reach her had grown to a steady pressure, an urgency that was more than half fear.

  "None," I said, slapping him gently to indicate I was done. The Human sat up—appreciably less stiff, I noted with professional satisfaction—and reached for the heavy Kraal sweater he'd found in a set of baggage in the back of the shuttle, possibly stored there by the regular pilot. He or she was unlikely to care, I sighed to myself.

  Both of us found the tiny ship cold. If it was a malfunction, it was beyond our knowledge to repair. I tucked myself back in a cocoon made from what had been the upholstery of the rear bench, already wearing every bit of clothing that fit me. "Do you have a plan?" I asked, more to keep him talking than because I expected Ragem to suddenly find our way to safety.

  "We have a com system. Anyone you'd like to call?"

  "I like being hidden, thank you," I said.

  Ersh-memory surfaced without warning, whirling me back from this moment, this place. I relaxed and allowed it…

  … hiding. This was the safe way, the only way. The prey had become wiser, warier, harder to catch.

  Mountains shed their mass into rivers, altering the landscape where Ersh/I chose to remain. Caution was firmly in place now. Secrecy meant safety.

  As mountains crumbled, thought patterns became more complex, introverted. A new concept might deserve an eon of contemplation before being accepted, assimilated within the core, nothing forgotten.

  Exploration. Camouflage. There was more than mass to obtain from the prey. Ersh/I encountered the achievements of intelligence, began to seek out music, conversation, technology.

  There were other sources of energy and mass. The time came when Ersh/I tracked a prey as it sang, and she/I stopped, repulsed.

  Murder, whispered a brand new thought.

  The new thought spread like a disease into guilt, remorse, horror. Ersh/I writhed in anguish, hiding once again as the mountains lost their snowy tops and became mere hills.

  Purpose. A goal. There would be Law, Ersh/I decided. Secrecy remained the key, but there was more to survival than self. Peace was of value. Intelligence was of value.

  Then it ended. Destruction rained from above. The hiding place was inadequate, torn apart, exposed. War raced past, life extinguished on a scale beyond anything Ersh/I had achieved.

  Abruptly, there was no further need to hide.

  Ersh/I scoured the empty planet, becoming aware of a new concept.

  Waste…

  "Es? Esen?"

  I pulled myself out of Ersh's grief. "I'm okay," I assured the Human, surely puzzled by my moment of distraction. "Just—remembering."

  He offered me some sombay. "We should be in Xir System by tomorrow morning."

  I laced my fingers around the cup, inhaling its moist steam, and wished futilely for something to make it taste like more than hot water. Ragem did the best he could. "Have you ever been to Picco's Moon, Paul-Human?" I asked.

  He took his own drink, choosing to sit cross-legged on the floor. The shuttle's space was cramped at best, but neither of us felt inclined to complain. "Seen some vistapes. And," this with some enthusiasm, "I know some Poptians. The gems they bring back each trip are amazing."

  I shook my head in wonder. Should I tell him? No, I decided. Making myself comfortable, I sipped once, then began: "Well, if those impressed you, my friend, let me tell you the Tumblers' legend that explains why you should only travel out of the moon's crevices when Picco looms overhead."

  As I settled into a storyteller's croon, I thought with sudden longing of our destination. Not the place: Ersh, the center of my universe.

  She was probably going to blame me for all that had happened, starting with Ragem and finishing with the loss of my web-sisters. I could handle that, as long as she could also save me.

  I suspected it wouldn't be that easy.

  "Very scenic," Ragem commented, looking out the left hand port of the orbit-surface transport. "The Poptians were right."

  I nodded but didn't bother joining him, too anxious for the flight to be over. Any delay seemed insufferable this close. I'd begrudged every second, even though I was the one who'd insisted on shopping on the way.

  But then, I couldn't bring Ersh her first uninvited guest without paying at least some attention to appearances. Forget that we were trying to outrun a deadly, voracious predator: I was more nervous about her reaction when she met Ragem. So what if the Brill jacket and pants cost more than Ragem's yearly salary? They gave him a very necessary cultured and sophis
ticated look.

  At the very least, Ersh might think twice before throwing something at him.

  I wore a knee-length cloak of twisted fiber over the new skirt I'd bought to replace the hodgepodge of Kraal clothing we'd arrived in. That clothing, and the shuttle, were now on their way to a scrap yard on Deneb, there being a regular pickup at the Xir Prime Station. From there it had been a simple case of buying passage on the next run to Picco's Moon.

  "We're almost there, Paul-Human," I said a few minutes later, knowing this route. The transport would drop us off on the flat pad before Ersh's home in the cliff. She paid for the privilege, insisting only on her guests being announced by the transport pilot. Ersh didn't like surprises.

  She undoubtedly wouldn't like the ones I was bringing.

  But Ersh wasn't the one surprised. I suppose I should have known.

  The transport lifted away with only a slight stirring of dust. Picco was just rising over the horizon, staining the rocks with its brilliant oranges and reds. The colored light played over the walls of Ersh's fortress home, revealing ragged holes where windows had been blasted through the rock.

  I rushed ahead of Ragem, cycling as I moved into web-form, straining all my senses to find some trace of Ersh. The autos were out, but I didn't need light to reveal the destruction throughout, or to taste its source.

  It was the Enemy. Not a battle, I realized, calming myself. Traces of it clung to the floor and ceiling. Gingerly I nibbled at the nearest bit of blue.

  Rage! Cheated! Emptiness!

  I chose another, fighting the urge to excise every molecule from my flesh.

  It dies and would take me! Terror! I must survive! Flee!

  Life was close; I felt its heat, recognized the organization of its molecules. Ragem.

  I cycled into my birth-form, gladly spitting forth every trace of my Enemy.

  Ragem stood in the doorway, clutching a piece of broken table leg. "Es?" he asked; from his voice I assumed he was uncertain what he faced in the dark.

  "It's me," I growled, poking my way around the room until I found the cupboard I sought. Inside it were the controls for the backup lighting systems and heat. I pulled the switch and blinked as the clean white lights erased the shadows and fought back the rusty beams reflecting from Picco.

  The place was a mess. I found myself standing on Ersh's tablecloth and moved my paws. The door to her inner room was ripped from its hinges. Within, duras plants and their pots were strewn about. The secret door to her storage compartment hung open like a surprised mouth, its contents gone.

  The hooks on one wall remained intact, my favorite coat still hanging where I'd left it. I lifted it from the hook and pulled it over my shoulders.

  Ragem spat a phrase I'd last heard from Skalet, his face like granite. "We'd better get out of here, Esen. It could be back."

  "I know," I said. "There's a com system in the closet, Paul. Why don't you recall the transport while I—" I paused, as if to go on would be to step off a precipice and plunge down the kind of cliff that had always given me nightmares.

  "While you—?" Ragem prompted gently.

  "There's somewhere I have to go. Please wait for me, my friend. I won't be long."

  * * *

  52: Moon Morning

  « ^ »

  ROCKS cry crystal tears.

  This, I thought, explained why Ersh's bleak and worn mountain had become littered with diamonds in my absence. They were underfoot, piled in crevices, and made landslides that ripped light into prisms. Enough tears for a lifetime.

  I nibbled on a shard the size of a Human's fist, tasting nothing but carbon. "This was a bit extreme, Ersh," I complained, quite aware there'd be no answer beyond the moaning of the evening winds.

  I'd been too quick to pronounce her gone. The mountains beneath me heaved, then settled. Diamond dust sparkled around me, slow to obey Picco's gravity.

  So there was still enough of her to sense my presence, perhaps even to hear me. What good was that, with all she was—all she remembered—melded into this pile of dirt? Grief welled up inside me until I could hardly bear it. "Why?" I shouted. I dropped to my knees and pounded my paws into the unyielding rock, leaving blood behind. "Why?"

  A gentler rumbling, but nothing more. Defeated, I sucked crystal grains from my knuckles. Ersh had deserted me. Instead of running or hiding or fighting or even merely surviving, she had chosen to root herself forever into an orbiting hunk of mineral. It was the old way. And it was called death.

  Had it been a difficult choice? I gathered a cold handful of diamonds and wondered. Had Ersh regretted her decision when it was too late? As her body thinned and spread within the rock—her fierce intelligence fading, solidifying—had she cried for the end of her existence?

  One at a time, my tears slid down, cratering the diamond dust. "Be safe, Ersh," I whispered to the cold breeze. "Be at peace." My voice lost itself for a moment.

  There was no point staying here. I stood, pulling my coat more tightly around my neck. There really was only one thing left to tell her.

  "I remember, Ersh," I howled on that mountaintop, alone as I had never been before, as I had never imagined I could be. "I will remember you. I will remember Mixs, Lesy, Ansky, and Skalet." I took a sharp breath, suddenly seeing the future as Ersh must have done. "And I will build the Web of Esen," I promised the mountain. "And that Web will remember you until the hearts of stars grow cold!"

  The ground shook as if in echo. I could barely hold my footing, a crack like a wound tore open just in front of me, and I resisted the urge to jump back. What was Ersh doing?

  All still. I waited a moment to be sure before I took a step forward and looked inside.

  A flawless blue gem winked at me from its cradle of leather and disturbed stone. I threw myself down and stretched my arm into the crack, grabbing the bundle and pulling back. Instantly the crack closed.

  A last gift? I raised my eyebrow at it. "Ersh, you ancient bag of dust," I said, almost comforted. "I should have known simply dying wouldn't stop you from bossing me around."

  There was nothing more for me here. I stood on the mountaintop, gazing into the distance, and realized that I had to rely on myself now. There was nothing more.

  In that I was wrong. I turned at the patter of footsteps from behind me. Ragem climbed the last step and came to stand at my side, his breath coming in painful little gasps as his body objected to the thinner atmosphere.

  "I felt a moon quake," he panted. "It knocked some of the furnishings around, but the house is okay." He paused, looking around, then whispered: "Is she here?"

  What did he think, she could hide as a rock? Since that was exactly what Ersh had done, I saved the explanation for later.

  "No," I answered, tucking Ersh's gift into a pocket. "But she left something for me."

  Impulsively, I licked him on one dusty cheek, rewarded by his sudden shy smile in return. "Let's go, my friend," I said. "There's not enough air for you up here. And no reason to stay."

  As I hopped back down the stairs, my paws fitting nicely into the grooves etched by centuries of feet, hooves, pads, and other treads, I knew what I had to do.

  If I wanted that future I'd envisioned on Ersh's mountain, or any future, I'd have to find my Enemy before it found me.

  And stop it.

  * * *

  53: Concourse Afternoon

  « ^ »

  "AND you can afford all this?"

  I'd have thought Ragem's clothing would have been enough to convince any shopkeeper, but perhaps it was the reticent way the Human handled the credit chip—as though it might bite—that raised all four of the clerk's eyebrows.

  "Check it yourself," my friend said with admirable aplomb, as if he were in the habit of buying a private yacht and requesting it be ready to lift in two hours, with all the supplies and toys available installed. The clerk, an Ervickian in its ap-morph and so definitely old enough to have seen it all and no longer find any of it amusing, took the offered card and f
ed it into his reader.

  The eyebrows went a little higher and there was a new respect in his voice. "Anything else today, Horn Slothe?"

  "Rostra sprouts," I mumbled at Ragem. "And remind him about the shrubbery."

  "The ship has to contain a portable conservatory, remember," Ragem insisted. "We won't travel without some life in the place. And be sure the galley has a box of fresh rostra sprouts." The clerk didn't blink, Ragem's credit rating—under the alias Megar Slothe—obviously overcoming any doubts about the sanity of a Human and a Panacian insisting on live plants or ordering food poisonous to both species.

  I was impatient and found it difficult not to swivel my head around to look over my shoulder. This was Ultari Prime, a place where just about anything could be purchased. While this made it perfect for our outfitting, it also made it a logical place for anyone to look for us.

  Deal concluded, at least until we could inspect the ship for ourselves in about a standard hour, Ragem, led the way from the Ervickian's shop. Once we were several steps past the entrance, walking along the broad sidewalk, he expelled a long, soundless breath.

  I clicked my upper hand in amusement. "Was it that bad?"

  "I just spent—do you know how much I spent?"

  This form shrugged quite eloquently. I enjoyed the gesture. "There is more." Quite a bit more, as I recalled, but there was no point further overwhelming Ragem. "You are of my Web; what I have is yours." I'd made sure he had his own access to the accounts Ersh had set up, my future not being completely assured at the moment.

  The peripheral vision of a D'Dsellan was superb, allowing me to watch Ragem as we continued to our next destination. He seemed to find something fascinating in the brick pavement passing beneath our respective feet. "You don't have to come with me, Paul Ragem," I said quietly, not for the first time. "The ship has adequate automatics."