Changing Vision (10 page)

This was the Chase I knew and avoided whenever possible. I took a semi-discreet step backward, putting myself out of the ring of light and the debate. Paul did the opposite, stepping closer to her side and, putting one arm over her shoulders, bending to whisper so only she—and those beings present with extraordinary ears—could hear: “That’s exactly what you must do, Janet. I promise we’ll get to the bottom of it, but it’s not going to be fast and it’s not going to be clean. Understand me? There’s more going on here than the obvious. Let us do the hunting—for now.”

Her voice was an edged whisper in return. I couldn’t see her face clearly from this distance and in this miserable excuse for lighting—I’d already bumped into another patron’s chair and had to mutter an apology. “Then you’d better be careful, Paul Cameron. What is it the locals say? If you toss a net into unknown waters, have your blaster ready.”

He’d
better be careful?
I repeated to myself, somewhat miffed. How easily she ignored my role in everything done by Cameron & Ki.

The light wasn’t too dim for me to see her reach up to Paul’s neck with one hand and start to pull his face toward hers. I deliberately and politely looked away. Somehow my oversized foot happened to snag the nearest leg of our table, jarring it so approximately half a bowl of cream-coated pyati became a tidal wave to flood the tabletop and most of its surroundings.

“Es!”

AS I matured—growing up not quite being accurate, since web-form did not perceptibly alter in physical structure with time—as I matured from birth to what passed as adulthood for my kind, I’d frequently experienced what Humans call “trouble.” It involved, with depressing consistency, some fairly innocent and usually well-intentioned act on my part followed by some unexpected or expected consequence to that act, wrapped up with someone important to my life being really annoyed with me.

For most of my life, that person had been Ersh. Ersh had been outstandingly effective at drawing guilt out of me that I’d never imagined existed. She didn’t argue, rarely shouted, and had all the soul-withering, conscience-racking dignity of a being who had lived long enough to believe, with justification, she had to have seen it all—until I arrived. The little surprises I’d unwittingly awarded her throughout our time together had never been particularly welcome.

Nor, it seemed, was my little accident in the restaurant welcome to my now web-kin, Paul.

I tore a little piece of leaf from the nearest duras plant and tucked it under a scale on my chest. It joined the dozens already so planted. At this rate, I’d soon be invisible within my own greenhouse.
Just another oddly trimmed bit of shrubbery,
I told myself, somewhat relishing the melancholy.
That’s Esen.

Not that I was hiding. Not I. Everyone, Paul included, knew I spent most of my afternoons, when business permitted,
working with my plants in the conservatory. The almost barren ecosystem of Fishertown and its environs disappeared within these doors, replaced by the thriving growth of, at last count, three hundred and seven worlds. There was no order within the place except what my eye found pleasing and biology found acceptable. Plants obscured every visible surface, in greens, reds, yellows, purples, and any other color nature had found worked to turn sunlight into food or gain the attention of pollinators.

My collection would have been a world-class attraction, given the lack of competition on Minas XII, had I allowed any but Paul’s family and trusted friends to know what lay inside the back third of our warehouse. The roof was the landing pad; the sunlight streaming past branch and leaf was natural enough, but drawn down through hidden collectors; the water and other nutrients were supposedly purchased and consumed by a local brewery. Perhaps it was an insignificant secret among so many others, but I’d grown selfishly attached to my privacy and this place over the years.

Another piece of leaf went into my disguise. By now, all the easy scales had their companion greenery, making me have to twist gingerly to reach my sides. Some of the first transplants had started to wither and slip free. I clicked my tonguetips with annoyance and reached for more.

“So, Es. What did you do this time?” The rich, gravelly voice originated from somewhere behind a wall of cascading vines.

It could belong to only one being. My ears struggled into a happier position, then settled back into their droop. “Does it matter?” I countered morosely, tucking in another leaf and wondering if I should add a flower or two for variety.

Joel Largas shouldered his way through the greenery, pulling a grav cart behind him loaded with trays of seedlings. After Paul, this was my favorite Human—something else I’d have been scolded by Ersh for in the past. I sighed, my thick lips making very effective blubbery noises as I did so. I might have known I wouldn’t be left to mope on my own. Since his self-imposed retirement last year, the former spacer
had taken to gardening with a passion. This being the only garden on Minas XII, it had been only reasonable to give him unlimited access. Both Human and plants had benefitted; in all honesty, I did as well. Joel was important to Esolesy Ki, the Lishcyn: a judgment-free companion who cheerfully ignored me when I wanted to be alone but somehow decided on his own when I didn’t.

“That’s going to take a while,” he commented instead of answering my question, gesturing to my accomplishment of having leafed the center third of my chest scales and a little farther.

“I’ve time.” Considering web-life span, barring accidents, that was an understatement. I watched him from the corner of my eye.

Joel Largas was always worth watching. A greatgrandfather—likely more than that by now—he remained perfectly capable of charming females of his kind, and a few others, to incoherence in under three standard minutes. I’d seen it done. But there was much more to him than mere physical presence. Resolute and determined, Joel had found himself the leader of a refugee convoy, the last to flee Garson’s World before the end. He’d coaxed, cajoled, and outright bullied spacers into action, then brought the whole assortment of private vessels and independent traders, with their human cargoes, safely to Minas XII with no ambition but to find a haven for his family and friends. When that meant creating a freighter company out of what remained of their fleet and almost single-handedly seeing to its success, he’d done that, too.

The grav cart contained a battered stool, which Joel pulled out and put beside where I sat in the moss. He settled himself on it, then began casually plucking leaves from the nearest duras plant and passing them to me, one by one. “Paul’s no fool, Es,” the Human said, nothing casual in his voice this time, although his blue eyes contained a suspicious twinkle. “You usually trust him to handle his own relationships.”

Word spread translight around here,
I realized, unsurprised my escapade this morning at the Circle Club was already
known to Joel. In my experience, anything worth knowing seemed to head to him first, whether my discomfiture or fuel prices. Another leaf. Two more. Then I held up one foot, balancing awkwardly on a rear not intended for such a position, and wiggled my broad, webbed toes. “It could have been an accident,” I said, finding the whole thing funny again.

His abundant growth of curling gray facial hair hid what might have been a smile. “You have a lot of those around Captain Chase,” Joel observed wryly. “It’s no wonder you make the woman nervous.”

I’d like to make her disappear,
I told myself, but halfheartedly as I again lost the humor of it. My true self preferred harmony with those around me, a state of community in which I was either liked, tolerated, or benignly ignored. It was safer, for one thing. It was much closer to the arrangement within my Web, for another. Discord, even when it was my choice, made me uncomfortable for days. “She—” I tilted my snout so I didn’t have to look at him, pretending to talk to myself. “She makes me afraid.”

I couldn’t see Joel’s face, but the hand ready to pluck another leaf reached instead to my forearm. The pattern of age spots on the back of his still-strong hand echoed those of my scales. His grip was firm and warm. “You can’t believe she could affect your friendship with Paul. Es, you and he are—you’re family.” This last was said with all the meaning Joel himself placed on the concept. There was nothing higher, no bond tighter to the head of the Largas clan.

I flashed a tusk at him, turning my big head so he could see it. “I know,” I said, accepting his answer as my own. “But the other females—your daughter among them—accepted that. They understood I had no intention of interfering between Paul and his own kind. Chase—speaks to Paul of being rid of me, of breaking up Cameron & Ki. It’s not malice,” I admitted heavily. “She sincerely believes it best for him.”

Joel Largas had learned some interesting terminology in his long career as a spacer. I flicked my ears back and forth,
adding a few more to memory. When he was finished, he patted my arm again. “Don’t worry about Chase,” he said finally, his face flushed with outraged anger. “I’ll have a talk—”

“No!” I said quickly, standing up and, in the process, shedding leaves like some tree at the approach of winter. “That will only convince her she’s right.”

“Then I’ll speak with Paul,” Joel offered, still with that glint of battle in his eyes. I felt warmed to my core as I looked at him and recognized this was the other side of humanity, this caring and willingness to sacrifice for another when there was no gain, no prize. It was what had originally drawn me to Paul’s aid, made me break Ersh’s Rules and reveal myself.

A seductive, dangerous feeling as well. Despite our deep friendship, Joel Largas was one Human to whom I could never reveal my true self. Fifty years ago, within reach of safety, the Largas’ convoy had been attacked by a monster. Joel had been an eyewitness, watching the web-being—though he had no name for it then or now but Death—rip apart the ships of friends, helpless to prevent more carnage as it stalked others for the pleasure of consuming the life within. I’d been told he sobbed in his sleep for years afterward, reliving his frustrated fury and grief.

No Human, including Paul, could possibly tell my web-form from that of any other of my kind; even we required taste or scent to be sure of identity. Should Joel see me as I was, his nightmare would be back. I had no desire to ever inflict that pain.

“I appreciate your willingness to help. And your vocabulary,” I told him, deliberately damping all emotions to the best of my ability, but letting a note of amused resignation enter my voice. “Let’s face it. I haven’t helped the situation. She has cause—”

He wasn’t convinced. “I don’t want you to be afraid of anyone, Esolesy Ki. That’s not right, no matter what little tricks you’ve played now and then.”

“I’m sure my fears are groundless—just my stomachs overreacting to conflict. I should know better than to listen
to their complaints by now.”
He should believe that,
I thought, remembering several instances from our past in which my participation in an argument had had immediate and embarrassing repercussions. I really wished I could find a form to live in that wasn’t ruled by its insides. I went on: “I do trust Paul.”

His expression lightened, as I’d hoped. “As I said you should. He’s a good man, Es. He’s not going to listen to any nonsense.”

Well, he did,
I told myself bitterly, then was honest enough to wonder if it had been so he could learn the full extent of Chase’s feelings on the subject. Wasn’t the proof in the result? I began to notice that other, depressingly familiar feeling: guilt. Would Paul have refused her solicitation for lip contact, and its possessiveness, had I kept my feet to myself? I felt my ears sink as I realized I’d probably been wrong about my friend twice in the same morning.
This wasn’t going at all well.

“Where is Paul?” I found myself asking. I’d literally run from the restaurant. There had been something unnerving about the stupefied stare of both Humans, clothing and skin streaked with black pyati and sagging blobs of cream. The stuff had missed me completely, which hadn’t seemed to help the situation. So I’d ducked my head in mute apology before hurrying out.

Well, I’d tried to hurry. The lighting, or lack thereof, made my rush to the exit a series of spectacular collisions in the semidarkness with everything possible, including, I winced at the memory, a waiter whose tray arched completely over my head before arriving at the wrong table, a Poptian who wound up wearing its salads, and a group of tourists who scattered from underfoot just in time. I hoped they didn’t think I was running from the food.

Joel didn’t think it odd that I expected him to know. “Paul? He’s busy dropping your luggage shipside. You two are due to lift for D’Dsel tonight, aren’t you?” When I stared at him, one hand under my jaw as it threatened to loosen for the second time today, the Human looked suddenly contrite. “Es. I’m sorry. I thought you knew—this must have
been part of the surprise with your tickets. Don’t tell Paul I let it slip, okay?”

I sat down, very slowly, and picked up a leaf to tuck under another scale, hoping my stomachs would mind their own business.

I hadn’t left Minas XII for fifty years. I hadn’t encountered an intelligent species I hadn’t assimilated at least in part from my web-kin in half again as long.

Joel silently passed me another leaf as I contemplated both its position and what to say to my erstwhile partner.
Planning to surprise me, was he?
I wondered if he thought it some bizarre punishment.

Surely Paul, of all beings, knew I hated surprises.

“I THOUGHT you’d like a surprise.”

I didn’t bother replying to that, too busy trying to judge the best moment to plant my feet on the conveyor belt leading into the
Galaxy Goddess.
It was a ridiculous name for a passenger ship and I felt even more ridiculous wearing this hat. Paul’s hand pressed against my shoulder, urging me forward.
Fine for him, with feet sized to fit the device.
I scampered into position, having to tuck one set of toes under the other and grab the handrail for dear life.