“HUNTER Kearn, we have disagreement,” Anisco’s voice, through her translator, held no emotion, but waves rippled down the cilia from forehead to shoulder as if she stood within a waterfall.
A very pretty effect, Kearn thought, imagining those silken strands between his fingers. It was a fantasy he kept very guarded—the more one knew about alien species, the less likely it was to have such fantasies be anything but dangerous. For all he knew, the cilia were feeding mechanisms that could strip the flesh from his bones in an instant.
“There’s no need for concern, Fem Anisco,” he said soothingly, unable to resist shooting worried glances between each word at the other Feneden despite the presence of the two largest members of the Russell’s crew at his back. “I’m sure we can resolve any disputes.”
“I concur,” this from the second Feneden carrying a translator, Sidorae. Kearn was still uncertain who led the group—or even if they had a leader—but he had noticed Sidorae and Anisco usually disagreed on every topic. There was no consistency, however, no way Kearn had found to predict which side of any issue each Feneden would choose. It was as if they argued by convention, not conviction.
Regardless, Kearn suspected the two of them of a perverse enjoyment when they could put him in the middle of their debates, as now.
He sighed deeply, pulling his heavy coat more tightly about himself as he looked around the transformed cabin. It had been Lefebvre’s, a choice made in the captain’s absence but before he had been declared missing. Timri’s choice, in fact. She’d noted—quite reasonably—that Lefebvre’s was the largest space available after Kearn’s and that the furnishings had been significantly upgraded. She’d been emphatic about how Lefebvre would himself agree. And not only to this, but to her taking the comp system from his room to add to her own.
Kearn doubted this, but was willing to let Timri face the daunting Lefebvre about the loss of his quarters and equipment.
Timri had supervised the refit to suit the Feneden’s requirements. They’d liked the huge jelly-bed, but apparently used it for dining, not sleeping. The ceramic tables now graced Kearn’s own quarters, as the set of five swings—part of the odd requests they’d had to fill before leaving D’Dsel—required quite a bit of space to use safely. At the moment, the three silent Feneden were rocking back and forth gently, bare feet just touching the floor.
The floor. Kearn sighed again. The Feneden had brought some of their slimy carpeting along. It appeared to grow outward, and with dismaying enthusiasm, from patches they’d fixed at intervals throughout the cabin, already meeting in several spots. He’d insisted that Timri have the crew assigned to the door check regularly to be sure the stuff didn’t grow into the rest of the ship.
There weren’t chairs. When Kearn suggested he bring his own, Anisco and Sidorae had concurred, amazingly enough, that he must not. Kearn had ventured several times to have their meetings in his office, a place where he felt much more at ease—not to mention significantly warmer.
The Feneden preferred to meet here. In fact, the guard at the door might have been unnecessary, since their guests refused to leave their room at all. Not that he’d want either the Feneden or their carpet left to their own devices, Kearn told himself.
“The report I have is most reliable,” he said out loud, in his firmest tone. “The Esen Monster—the Shifter,” he corrected quickly, having learned by now the word elicited a much stronger reaction from the Feneden, “and her accomplice have accompanied the Iftsen to their homeworld. I don’t see why you object to following.”
“There are no such beings,” Anisco said, as she had a truly frustrating number of times already. N’Klet had warned him to expect this response in the Feneden.
Kearn still couldn’t fathom it. How could such reasonable and civilized beings refuse every imaginable evidence? One thing he did know: there was no point trying to argue with them about the existence of the Iftsen—which was the source of his present state of near-panic.
Sidorae uttered a spate of liquid words which caused the device in Kearn’s hand to pause in a crackle of static, as though the translator tried to digest something unfamiliar.
“Sidorae is trying to convey,” Anisco interjected, “his disappointment in your source of information, Hunter. He wishes you to know there is much to be gained by examining the ancient ruins of our home. He is in error, of course. The truth is to be uncovered, not under vine and moss, but within the preserved texts and folklore of our people.”
Kearn wrung his hands together, wishing he’d brought gloves. “I can’t waste time looking for clues from the past when the monster is within reach now!” Then he had a brainstorm. “I believe I was mistaken, Fem Anisco, Hom Sidorae.”
“Concerning?” This from Sidorae.
“The Shifter is traveling in a Human ship—yes, a freighter. She is trying to hide in a lifeless system, the one the Panacians call Iftsen.”
The cilia of all the Feneden slowly came erect. “This is much more satisfactory information, Hunter Kearn,” Anisco said carefully. “We will consult, but I believe we would be eager to accompany your hunt to this place.”
“Eager,” repeated Sidorae. Indeed, Kearn could see all of the Feneden looking more alert, as though he’d finally reached them. Or, he thought uneasily, as if they’d finally convinced him of something.
Sidorae came closer, putting one long-fingered and graceful hand on Kearn’s forearm—a feather’s touch. Then he gestured to the others, who slipped down from their swings and moved to stand beside Anisco and Sidorae in a line. Afraid to move, Kearn took comfort from the silent, watchful crew behind him.
“We hunt the Shifter,” Sidorae said. As one, the Feneden went to their knees, pressing their foreheads deeply into the moist carpet at Kearn’s feet.
Kearn was even more grateful he’d thought to bring crew—now, maybe Timri would believe him when he told her the respect the Feneden offered him.
A shame no one else seemed to feel it, he thought bitterly, then smiled slowly. They would, once he’d tracked down the Shifter. And Ragem.