Webshifters 2 - Changing Vision

by Julie E. Czerneda

  Centered, and I doubted by accident, was the director of this play, Paul Ragem, friend, and now, I realized with a sense of despair, my keeper. He'd taken the time to change, wearing a dark blue shirt against which my medallion shone as though on display.

  Being the worst-dressed being here was not helping my mood.

  I took a step closer, then halted. The tanks were stilled; perhaps to check their depths. All of these Humans, I thought with a sudden, intense shame, would know what to look for.

  Paul opened his mouth and then closed it again, as if, having planned all this, he couldn't remember the script. The older Human shot a glance in his direction, then took a half step toward me. "Ersh wouldn't approve," he intoned, as if he could have any idea what he was saying.

  Or how it insulted my memories and hers to hear her name in his Human mouth. I glared at Paul.

  The words, my icy look, or both stirred Paul from whatever reluctance or outright paralysis had gripped him. He took a matching step forward and nodded brusquely at me before gesturing to the Human who had spoken. "Esen, I'd like you to meet Councillor Sandner, member from Inhaven Prime, Comp-tech Mesa Timri from the Russell III" the woman, "and you know Tomas and Lawrenk."

  There followed one of those deadly silences in which no one knew what to say that wouldn't be catastrophic. I certainly didn't, never having imagined facing a group of aliens who knew the real me.

  Tomas suddenly grinned, complete with dimples. "Quite an improvement over Old Fang Face," he said slyly.

  I couldn't quite smile, but I saw Paul's grateful look to Tomas. The Human referred to a night I treasured and remembered often, even if I'd never learned to relish the nickname he'd given me on our way to celebrate Christmas. "Less than you'd imagine," I admitted frankly. "Fussy eater and prone to hysterics."

  Something eased in Lawrenk's face. "It's you, Es?" she breathed, a reassuring hope in her voice.

  Paul was trying to get my attention. I gave it to him and saw his lips form the word "please." His eyes were almost desperate.

  I nodded, feeling there was very little left to lose anyway, being heartily tired of this form and these filthy clothes, especially since gaining a trail of itchy crabcake crumbs down my torso and leg. Releasing my hold, I cycled, passing through web-form quickly enough they should see only a flash of blue…

  And stretched to my less-than-considerable height in my birth-form, the Lanivarian. Fortunately, I thought, this stomach was empty. I shouldn't get seriously spacesick for a few moments at least.

  Paul's companions handled it well. Probably better than I, I thought, gripping this form tightly. No outright fainting, very little in the way of shocked looks. In fact, Tomas and Lawrenk looked openly delighted, like children shown a magic trick.

  I relaxed slightly, by no means pleased to perform for strangers, but happier in a form physically braver and far better at growling. And one I understood thoroughly. I looked cross-eyed down my muzzle. I needed a shave; then again, I needed clothing. Nothing was perfect.

  The thought repeated itself as I looked steadfastly into the eyes of the one being I'd admitted into the Web of Esen, the one I'd trusted to the limits I was capable. My lip lifted over a fang and stayed that way. It wasn't a smile.

  "Why are you here?" I asked, not working hard at sounding pleasant. They, I reminded myself, had more to prove than I.

  Sandner, not Paul, answered promptly. "We came to meet you, Esen-alit-Quar. We've been working on your behalf for many years. When the chance came to greet you in person—"

  This arrangement of Paul's would never be a Web, I thought wildly, taking an involuntary step back. This Human wasn't sharing with me; he was lying.

  Paul knew. He put up a hand to silence the other, then offered it to me. "Easy, Es," he said quickly. "Give them a chance. Please." To the other Human, he snapped: "Esen is older than your grandparents—she's spent that time living in secret from us. Do you think it's a pleasure to meet you? Get to the point, or she'll leave."

  I cocked my head to one side, just a bit, listening to Paul's voice. Controlled, smooth, but defensive. I sniffed.

  Under various perfumes and the cloying green from the tank, I could detect the scent of stress. Not fear. I flared my nostrils slightly, dipping my snout toward his hand. Anger.

  So, I thought, schooling my face into something more patient. Paul wasn't totally in charge here. There was a threat to me—and a threat to him. I dropped my jaw in an almost smile. This, I could understand.

  "Forgive any misunderstandings, Fem." Sandner, without benefit of my senses, still appeared perceptive. "If you would prefer me to be blunt, I will. We came here to observe you. We hadn't planned our observations to—interfere with you in any way."

  "You were spying on me," I corrected. "You took advantage of my leaving Minas XII. But you didn't expect to get caught."

  Paul smiled that smile I knew gave our competitors nightmares. "The Vegas Lass was tracking me," he explained. "It was near the asteroid the entire time. They could have pulled us out of the dome the minute I gave the word."

  "Gave the word—how?" I asked, struggling to put that horrid experience together with what Paul was trying to tell me. Nothing in the combination made sense.

  Paul flipped over his medallion. I remembered him showing me the tiny scrambler device he'd said was to keep a Kraal sensor from detecting the web-mass within. He'd never said that was all it was. "They were listening, Esen," explained the person who always swept our rooms for eavesdropping devices. Who better to plant one? I thought.

  I curled my lips back in full threat and would have gladly nipped him if Paul had left his hand in range. "Them, I understand."

  Sandner looked embarrassed. "Don't blame Paul, Esen. We—those in this room—gave him an ultimatum. We knew what your kind could do if you wanted to. Paul's belief in you—after a while, it wasn't enough."

  "We had to know for ourselves that you were safe," Timri went on. "We had to know we were doing the right thing by helping you."

  "Safe," I snarled. "As in ways to destroy me. As in testing your trap."

  "No!" This came from more than one. Paul stopped them with an upraised hand, saying, "Esen, I swear to you, that had nothing to do with anyone here. There was no intent to harm you in any way. It really was Kearn's trap. Timri says it came from a Kraal backer, someone with the technology to follow the Russell III and obtain Kearn's results."

  "So what was the point?" One disadvantage to my Lanavarian-self, in addition to the minor complaints beginning in my stomach in response to the artificial gravity, was a need to pace when emotional. I made it appear relaxed, walking to the railing as though contemplating the smelly, green-stained water. Then I turned, my paws wrapped around the railing so I could lean back comfortably. I could see Paul's eyes narrow in understanding, and he shook his head the tiniest amount. I agreed. I didn't want to cycle again, but this form would soon become a nuisance. It seemed wise to stay close to living mass that didn't have a name. "You listened to us in the dome instead of helping us. Why?"

  "The Web—" Sandner started to say.

  I interrupted him, my ears flat to my skull in full threat. "Don't ever use that word to refer to this group. The Web of Esen does not contain you. My Web—" I glanced at Paul. He gazed back at me with the oddest look of hopelessness on his face. Foolish Human, I thought with exasperation. I'd rarely agreed with my former web-kin twice in the same day. Did he not know by now the strands of the Web are severed only in death? "The Web of Esen consists of two," I finished, rewarded by the flash of gratitude in his eyes. I kept my ears back, not done glaring at him.

  "The Group," Sandner continued, the smoothness of this transition likely more to do with his years in politics rather than space, "thought if you were placed in a situation where Paul's life appeared to be threatened, and you had a clear target, it would show us—"

  "Show you what?" I interrupted again, completely exasperated. "For all you knew, my species might not have had com
parable emotions to yours at all. An Ervickian in a life-threatening situation with beloved creche-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, Fein 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. Then 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, a
nd 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.

  Chapter 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.