13: Library Morning; Farmhouse Afternoon
WE passed Duggs hurrying along the corridor with a hammer in hand, for reasons I hoped had to do with construction and not expressing her opinion, went by Lionel’s surprisingly closed door—hearing sounds inside suggestive of construction, or perhaps its opposite, not that I was aware of any work needing to be done—and arrived at Paul’s office.
My friend rushed to his desk. I hovered at his shoulder, quivering. Our eyes met. “The Mistral’s translight com is on the bridge,” Paul reminded me, finger paused over the com button.
I took a breath and calmed myself. “So others will be listening.” Others being the captain and bridge crew. “Saves time.”
My friend’s lips quirked to the side. “That it will. First, though. Lionel’s played it that Evan’s posed a question to the Library. What would it be?”
He asked me? “You’re the Human.”
“You’re his friend.”
“He likes you better.”
Paul actually blushed. “That doesn’t count, Es. C’mon. You know how Evan thinks.”
We might share a predilection or two, our Evan and me. Paul didn’t have to say it. “Evan saw the framed images,” I responded, thinking hard. “And he knows the Sacrissee are afraid. He’d ask—” Suddenly, I was sure. “—what in the Vast Out scared them so much they blended a carnivore’s genome into their next generation.”
My friend’s eyes lit up. “Yes. That’s his question. And now we’ve the answer, don’t we?”
“An extradimensional space monster with lightning tentacles?”
His lips tightened, then he surprised me with a curt nod. “Put it out there, Es. They’re chasing a monster. They have to know it.”
This wasn’t going to go well.
Giving me what I’m sure he thought was an encouraging look, Paul pressed the com button. “Director Ragem and Curator Esen-alit-Quar here.”
“Paul. Esen! Is Esolesy with you?” Evan’s voice, but the relief in it was stronger than I’d expected. I slanted my ears. He was in trouble.
Hearing it too, Paul frowned. “Esolesy’s returning shortly.” Much as we wanted to know if Evan was all right, my friend wisely kept it professional. “Esen has the response to your inquiry: what in the Vast Out scared the Sacrissee so much they hired Molancor Genomics to blend a carnivore’s genome into their next generation?”
“Yes. That was it.” Perhaps the com distorted the words; they had an unfamiliar edge.
Paul gestured to me. I wrinkled my snout in futile protest. He gestured again, raising his eyebrows.
Fine. “Hello, Evan,” I said. “The Sacrissee were frightened by an attack that happened fifty-two years ago. Ship engines were drained of energy and—” I looked to my friend. He nodded encouragement. “—and they found the bodies of the crews embedded in the bulkheads, as if something had tried to pull them out through the metal.”
A gasp came through the com.
“We know what it was,” I continued—no point in stopping now. “A rare space creature called a Null. The Null exist within translight corridors and trap—” Web-beings “—their prey with filaments of energy. This one has learned to trap ships.”
“You’re saying—are you saying . . .” Evan’s voice trailed away, then came back in a rush. “That’s there’s a monster out there. An extradimensional monster with—with lightning tentacles.”
I shot a look at Paul, who gave a wasn’t me shrug. I suppose the description couldn’t be avoided.
“Yes, Evan,” my friend stated in an emphatic, here be monsters tone. “What’s left ships derelict isn’t an undiscovered intelligent species. It’s a force of nature and as such can’t be reasoned with. Warn the captain against approaching the Null until we know more. In the strongest terms.”
“Commander Kamaara is listening.” Evan went on, sounding like a person standing on a precipice. “How powerful are these Null? Can they destroy a planet?”
This time I gave the wasn’t me ear flip; the day I was consulted on Skalet’s decisions who to inform I’d explode from shock.
“If you know about Noam,” Paul replied with care, “you understand the importance of taking the Null and the risk they pose with the utmost seriousness.”
Which wasn’t a yes but wasn’t a no and certainly gave away that we already knew what they knew. That we hadn’t known they knew till now. I blinked wistfully at Paul, relying on him to keep all this straight.
I heard Evan’s heavy, stressed breaths, then couldn’t, indicating he’d hit the mute to consult with someone else.
All at once, he was back. “If the Null are non-sentient, who sent the images?”
“We’re pursuing that line of inquiry offplanet,” my friend said with enviable smoothness. “I propose we meet, Evan, to combine our efforts. This is a threat beyond the norm.”
There was an understatement. I flipped an ear at him, startled by his wink. Was Paul enjoying this? I supposed, to a Human, there was something positive about finally making progress.
As the one whose flesh was at stake, I could wait.
I might know Evan, but Paul Ragem understood how those in command of ships thought, because the next voice wasn’t Evan’s yet was very familiar indeed.
“Agreed. This is Commander Kamaara. On my authority I’m sending coordinates for our rendezvous, Director. Respond with your arrival estimate as soon as you have it. Do yourselves a favor and don’t share with anyone.”
Translight. Trapdoors.
My tail slipped between my legs. “Keep us away from the Null,” I broke in, not keeping anxious from my voice.
When she replied, her tone had changed. “Understood, Curator. Mistral out.”
I shook my head in protest so vigorously it sent my ears flapping. “I wanted to talk to Evan.”
Paul came around his desk, eyes alight. “No time to chat, Fangface. We’ll be seeing him as soon as we can.
“It’s time to get out there.”
Before we left Botharis to meet the Mistral and together hunt the Null—which sounded even more like the plot of a vid than tossing it a missile-plus-me snack—we had to begin Lesy’s impersonation of Esolesy Ki.
So we could jump into a starship and enter a translight corridor, a corridor where above all we had to hope the Null wasn’t lurking in wait to gobble us all.
Including Evan, who had monsters of his own. I whined to myself.
“Stop fussing,” my first friend advised, his tone kind but firm.
Meaning the whine had been audible. I wrinkled my snout. “I’m considering, not fussing,” I informed him, inclined to be offended. “Fussing would be asking you to call Nia again, because there’s no point going wherever it is we must without a boom.”
“My mistake. Stop considering.” He closed his bag. “Ready?”
Not in the least. “I will be.”
He’d know what I meant. My Human-self was braver than most mes. In fact, as Bess, I’d proved to be daring and even bold on occasion, if not always sufficiently concerned with the consequences of my actions—this according to Paul, who tended to go over past events with an eye to improvement.
And could read any me. “We won’t do anything reckless, Es. I promise.”
This from the one who’d come up with a plan straight from a monster vid? Rather than comment, I flipped an ear and picked up my own travel bag. Inside were Duras plants, that useful, hard-to-kill living mass, and more Duras filled Paul’s second and larger bag. I’d have brought several trunks of the stuff—being confined in a starship was risky of itself, without the only other source of mass being my friends—but more wouldn’t fit in Paul’s aircar.
Not and leave room for Lesley Delacora. Paul, capable of bold and daring himself when the time called for it, had decided we’d whisk Lesy’s Human-self away from the farmhouse before her triumphant, albeit incognito, return as a Lishcyn toddling down the ramp of the Largas Swift and onto the train to the Library.
In other words, he shared my doubt of my web-kin’s full adherence to our plan and wanted her where we could ensure her help by grabbing if necessary.
No more nipping. That hadn’t ended well the last time.
Bags stowed, we walked up the path to the farmhouse together. The air was fresher than yesterday’s, the sky bright blue with fluffy clouds. Ideal Confront Monster weather, I thought gloomily, inclined to be annoyed how every bird in the area was trying to outsing its neighbor, punctuated by the drone of eager pollinators. Farther away, beyond Human ears, but not mine, the rumble of the construction truck coming up from the village was a reminder work on the patio continued while we awaited the committee’s reaction to Nia’s inspection.
Not that we’d be here for it.
Little cone-like webs dotted the turf, their threads heavy with dew. I saw Paul notice them. Saw the shudder he tried to hide and understood. Not comfortable, was it, thinking of oneself as supper?
If the Null ate what they pulled inside.
I’d a strong personal aversion to finding out. Just as well the plan was to feed it a little bit of me.
As if that was easier to contemplate. I shuddered and walked faster.
Lionel was waiting on the porch swing when we arrived. He got up without smiling, eyes bruised from a sleepless night but alert as always. His endurance was slightly terrifying. “Glad I caught you before you headed for the landing field. I can’t see you off—I have to stay in case we’ve a delegation from the Preservation Committee.”
I glanced at Paul, seeing the same guilt writ on his face. My friend put down his bags, resting a hand briefly on Lionel’s shoulder. “Thank you,” he said simply.
Because goodbyes by com weren’t enough, not when we went after a monster. Resisting the urge to lick—not Lionel’s preference—I let my tail drift from side to side, happy to see a smile flicker across his lips.
Then Lionel gave his little cough, resetting the conversation. “Esen, Lambo chose the Library—and me.” I’d come prepared to apologize, but he went on without blaming me for a Carasian-sized hunk of trouble. “I’m convinced of his sincerity, but I’ve arranged for Duggs to keep an eye on him—not that she knows Lambo was a Survey operative. He’ll work on her crew.” His voice lowered, though we were alone other than the noisy birds. “I put Lambo’s report into the private part of the collection for you both, but this is urgent—I spotted something during my own scan of it. You’ve a problem on the Mistral.”
“Space monster,” I said archly.
“What is it?” Paul asked, not bothering to quell me.
“Survey suspects one or more faction agents are on board. There were no names, but Lambo was ordered to record any communications with the ship if they occurred.” A gleam in his eyes. “Don’t worry. I’ve put a dampener on his equipment.”
“You think the faction’s cleaner is on the ship.” I knew some spy jargon.
Raising an eyebrow at me, Lionel nodded, then gave Paul a concerned look. “And I fear you remain a target of those intent on eliminating any and all trace of Veya Ragem’s past.”
A ghost of that dreadful hate crossed Paul’s face, disappearing behind a reassuring smile I didn’t believe for an instant. “Again, thank you, Lionel. I’ll be careful.”
“Because I’ll be watching,” I vowed, bristling. Might have been a growl.
A better smile from my friend, who lifted his bag and mine. “Rudy’s ready to lift. We’ll stay in touch, Lionel.”
My ears shot up. “I’ll get Lesy—what is it?”
Lionel had grimaced. Now he winced. “About that. I don’t think she’s at all ready to go, Es.”
Of course she wasn’t. I sighed.
Family.
“You don’t need to pack,” I told Lesy for the third time. Holding in the snarl. “You’re not leaving.”
She stood, clutching an armload of shirts—Paul’s, not that we’d been able to pry them loose—and her lower lip came out in a pout. “Lesley’s leaving.”
Predictably, my web-kin showed no sign of last night’s turmoil or the revelations that had cost Paul and me both sleep and peace of mind. I’d found her halfway up the staircase, busy painting the risers so the stairs themselves vanished into an illusion of giant mushrooms. She’d painted a blue question mark on the back of her pants, having dressed this morning, twisted her hair into a topknot full of paint brushes, and appeared happily surprised to see me. Which was when I’d reminded her of The Plan, and that she was to come with me at once.
Prompting this frenzy of meaningless packing.
Taking the shirts, I tossed them on the bed with everything else she’d wanted to bring. “Yes. Lesley’s leaving, and you’re coming right back here as Esolesy Ki. Remember, Lesy, you’ve promised to stay Lishcyn until I return.” I gentled my tone. “I won’t be gone for long.”
Not something I should promise, but this was Lesy. Skalet could know the risks and face them in her own inimitable way. Lesy would abandon us to save herself. She’d run from Picco’s Moon if Ersh was in a temper—most often at me but just as often because of one of Lesy’s games. In which I’d participated willingly, granted, but not fair. She’d run to Picco’s Moon as well, fleeing real or perceived threats to an identity—or a bad review—and it’d be my job to incite more games to cheer her up.
Suffice to say I’d an interesting childhood.
As Senior Assimilator for our tiny Web, however, I accepted that reality, as Ersh had before me, and found a smile. “It’ll be a wonderful game to play on the Humans. If you can pull it off,” I added offhandedly.
Blue eyes glittered. “If? IF? Youngest?” Lesy tugged her hair out of its knot. “Check your memories. None of the others pretend as well as me. None.”
Since what Lesy meant by pretend had more in common with how I’d played with Paul’s twins when they were young—a Lishcyn on the floor making an excellent dragon to attack with tiny blunt swords—and nothing at all with what Skalet was doing at this moment to stay alive and function within Kraal society, I bowed my head. “It’s true. You are the best.”
“Exactly. Let’s go.” She headed for the door.
Her latest question mark flexed with every step. “Wait,” I said, even though Paul had gone to the roof for the aircar while I fetched Lesy and in all likelihood was tapping a finger on the dash. As if that ever worked.
Lesy paused, twisting at the waist to regard me solemnly. Her hair drifted over a shoulder. Waiting.
I pointed at her backside. “Why are you wearing a question mark?”
She twisted a little more in order to gaze down. “Well, look at that. I am.” Her hips wiggled. “It’s quite evocative, don’t you think? I wonder how it got there.”
I should have known.
I reached up to the ceiling, pressing where Paul had shown me. The previously hidden staircase to the roof dropped down without a sound, and I set a grateful foot on it.
“I found that the first night,” my web-kin assured me. “I found this today.” She reached inside her shirt and produced Starfield the Very Strange Pony, which she shouldn’t have.
“Give that back!” I half-shouted, lunging for Paul’s precious keepsake.
Lesy let me take it, a puzzled look on her face. “Oh, that isn’t what I found. Well it is, but it isn’t. Not really.”
Later I’d think over this moment and wonder what made me close the staircase on my waiting Human friend and turn to face my web-kin. Unless it was knowing no one found things like Lesy did.
“I’d like to know else what you found, Lesy,” I said, keeping my ears up and my voice pleasant with an effort.
“Would you?” She flashed a smile of rapturous delight before taking quick strides to Paul’s easi-rest by the window. Bending over, my perplexing web-kin tossed aside handfuls of plas sheets.
As I joined her, stepping through a veritable blizzard of sheets, I realized with a jolt that the ones drifting past me held familiar images. Except that Lesy had cut off the frame around the stars and ships—and presumably around the planet as well if she’d stolen the latest and I’d no doubt she could. But why?
“What have you found?” I heard myself ask.
She snatched one up and fanned herself with it. “Can’t you guess, Youngest?”
Ersh save me. “I need you,” I said very very gently, “to tell me. Please.”
“I solved the puzzle. Here, I’ll show you.” Lesy, on her knees, tossed aside a final sheet. “See?”
Avoiding the paintbrushes in her hair, I bent over her shoulder to stare.
Here were the frames—or rather the symbols on each, for these had been printed to show only those. Cut into strips. Tacked to Paul’s carpet. Some overlapped, others touched in varied orientations, and whatever in Lesy led her to find this within what we’d thought were indecipherable symbols was beyond my ability to grasp.
For I was staring at an incomplete but unmistakable representation of the toy still in my paw. Starfield the Very Strange Pony. There was only one mind in the universe from which it could have come—
“Would Paul like to see it?” Lesy asked, all innocence and joyful expectation.
“NO!” I snapped, making her recoil. My insides churning, I managed to reach out a trembling hand to stroke her hair. “No, Lesy. It would make him—” Ersh, I’d no words. “This is so special, let’s keep this our secret. Promise?”
She studied my face as if I’d grown an extra nose—or she planned to draw me one. Somehow I raised my ears and grinned. “Once you promise, we’ll go to the ship and you’ll get your new clothes. They’re beautiful.”
“I promise! I promise!” Clapping her hands, Lesy jumped up, her feet tearing a patch from Veya’s message to her son.
Until I knew what had sent it and why—
Until I knew what Veya Ragem had become?
Following behind Lesy, I took a moment to carefully scuff the rest of the frames from the carpet.
This secret I would keep.