Perception
YEARS of physical work had honed Duggs Pouncey into the person sitting across from him at the planning board, hands scarred and callused, brown skin weathered. Gray streaked her short black hair, but nothing dimmed a vitality able to fill a room. Lionel’d rarely met someone surrounded by the evidence of their skill, yet everything about the plans she presented, the Library around them, informed him of hers. And more. Duggs was meticulous. Thorough. Innovative, yet prudent.
All attributes Skalet should appreciate. To him, they’d an uncanny resemblance, pigmentation aside. Duggs was almost as tall, if not so lean, having the build of someone who, while strong and active, enjoyed the rewards of life. Yet there was—Lionel couldn’t put his finger on it. Was it the gleam of concentration in Duggs’ eyes as she considered his suggestions? Or how at times she’d be so still, he couldn’t tell if she breathed.
Or not. With an exaggerated huff, Duggs tilted back her chair and frowned. “What’s your deal, Lionel?” A finger lifted, made a circle. “You walk off the train, the Director says give you total access. Why?”
Lionel raised an eyebrow. “I’m here to help. I’ve some knowledge of security systems.”
A grunt he took as complimentary until her finger stabbed at him. “And that alarm nonsense. Because of you?”
“I—” About to protest it had nothing whatsoever to do with him, Paul having forewarned him the alarm was to flush out criminals possibly arriving on the next train, Lionel paused to consider. Had trouble trailed him as well as this Evan Gooseberry, whom Paul called a friend—not a claim he bestowed lightly.
No. He’d been careful. “When Skalet joins us—” She’d given him permission to use that name in front of non-Kraal.
“That Kraal—” Duggs pretended to spit. “We don’t need her.”
“It’s you who are redundant,” Skalet said from the doorway, her tone raising the hairs on Lionel’s neck. “Come, Lionel.”
“Oh, so you say we’re done, do you? Well, then.” Duggs Pouncey drove her fist into the node on the table, killing the display with a shower of sparks.
Telling Lionel why Paul had asked him to attend this meeting. It wasn’t for his opinion on the impact of a sequenced security enhancement on incoming clients, however useful. First contact was a process, one that could take months to bring disparate species into a working alignment.
Like Duggs and Skalet. Powerful personalities who—at this moment—detested one another.
Defuse the confrontation. Lionel remained seated and put his fingertips together. “I’m glad you’re here, Skalet. We’ve made some excellent progress, thanks to Duggs.”
Who’d been about to spit out something they’d all regret, from the twist of her lips.
Did Skalet hesitate? If so, it was for a millisecond at most. “My apologies for the interruption,” that rich lovely voice now improbably smooth. “To you both.” Duggs’ scowl deepened; Skalet lowered her head in a brief acknowledgment. “While the alarm was a test, there’s been a sudden development and I require Hom Kearn. If you would spare him for a short period, Head Contractor Pouncey?”
Duggs growled in her throat, eyes hot with anger.
Take control. Lionel stood at once. “Thank you, Duggs. We’ll reschedule as soon as convenient for all. A pleasure,” sincerely.
The contractor raised a cynical eyebrow before she conceded the situation with a gruff, “Go on, then.”
Refuse to escalate. That being the only safe option, considering who he was with, Lionel didn’t say another word. Which was easy, because he found himself challenged to keep up with Skalet’s longer strides as she took them into the labyrinth of the Library. He’d had a quick glance at the building layout, enough to grasp they were heading for the non-oxy breather habitat zones. The walkways between zones met at air locks, prudent when one species’ pleasant mix was another’s poison, and an emergency here wasn’t a good thing.
This wasn’t, however, an emergency. Skalet revealed nothing without intent, so the hint of a smile playing across her lips meant—yes, that was satisfaction.
“Who is it?” he asked quietly. At her glance, he added, “You’ve found the threat.”
“Possibly.” The smile became a dire promise.
Lionel was certain neither Paul nor Esen would want Skalet acting on her own, regardless of why. She was ruthless; he’d encountered her first as a Tumbler, the blood of their enemies dulling the glitter of her crystalline form. Next, she’d been this shape, Kraal, battling others of that kind, wounded as a result. He’d held her afterward, her Human blood on his hands.
There shouldn’t be blood here. Mustn’t be. He believed in the concept of this place, Paul and Esen’s Library. In the right of those here to peace. In protecting that peace. “I strongly recommend containment only,” he broached, pleased his voice didn’t shake. “Questions can be asked.”
A low chuckle. “Why, Lionel. What you must think of me.”
She didn’t, he noticed, dispute his assessment.
The walkway ended in a rudimentary air lock, a short stretch of hall between closed transparent doors with racks along one wall for exo-suits. “What do you see, Lionel?”
Obediently, he stared inside. Beyond the second door, the atmosphere roiled with a thick green fog, a corrosive one by the warning placard by the controls. “I don’t see anyone.”
“They are inside this zone.”
He didn’t ask how she knew. “The rack’s empty.”
“Indeed.” Without warning, Skalet slipped out of her uniform, folded it neatly, and handed it to him.
Lionel saw, not flesh, but a work of art, sculpted in hard pale marble. Nothing soft, nothing weak, here. This was a warrior’s scarred lean frame, blood vessels crawling like ropes over muscle and bone. Menace given grace.
He took the uniform and bowed as she had earlier. Her head rose, as though surprised, but all she said was, “Wait here.”
Going through the door, she closed it behind her, hit the control, then melted.
He didn’t see her perfect blue teardrop; the change was too quick for that. Even as the atmosphere within the air lock filled with thick green vapor, an Iftsen, Moberan by the frilled face, stood there.
The Moberan turned and waddled through the other door, into the zone, to deal with whomever thought to hide.
While he would wait, holding her uniform, Lionel decided, feeling the rightness in his heart, however long it took.
Or however long he lived.