Beholder's Eye (7 page)

The contact woke him, though the Human immediately huddled into the blanket’s shelter as he sat up. My eyes could just make out his shape, picked out of the deeper darkness only by the light seeping through cracks along the edges of the door. Insects scurried across the floor. Such dark-loving scavengers lived everywhere; they didn’t bother me. This young and likely grief-maddened Human did. “I’m sorry about your shipmates, Specialist Ragem,” I whispered, my voice grown unfamiliar from lack of use. I used comspeak; if I was revealing my nature as a cultured, civilized being, it was only polite to use the common tongue of the Commonwealth.

“I saw you try to save them,” he responded as quietly, but with an urgent haste. “I can understand how they died—but not why I’m here, imprisoned . . .” he paused. “And what is your place in all this, Huntress? Forgive my bluntness, but yours is about the last species I’d expect to find so far from home. Everyone knows Lanivarians avoid space travel. How did you come here? Were you shipwrecked?”

My first unmonitored conversation with a non-Web life-form, and I had to get one with curiosity.
The truth was safe,
I decided,
at least some of it.
“I was left behind and chose to hide. Kraos and its government are no strangers to offworlders. But you must have realized this when you met the Protark.”

Ragem was silent for a moment, then moved over so I could sit beside him on the dry stone bench. I accepted, though his clothing smelled almost as foul as the cell floor. “I was suspicious—but we were in their midst from the moment we landed. Trust has to be on both sides,” he said at last, in a voice so full of controlled pain that it hurt to hear it. “And Luara—my Captain—what could she have done differently? The negotiations had come too far; we’d agreed to make direct contact. Kraos is so vulnerable, so young a world. Who would have expected a madman—to be his target—” another pause.

“But we weren’t his first choice of target,” Ragem said all at once, a note of conviction firming his voice. “You were.”

“We weren’t friends,” I admitted. “But poor Ethrem wasn’t the only danger in that room, Human. The Protark has been against you all along. His talk of trust and aiding mutual communication was a lie. Haven’t there been unsuccessful missions here before?”

“Three,” his voice was very low. “But they were private expeditions seeking trade. As often as not, those don’t report back for their own reasons. Your ship—was it one of them?” When I ignored the semiquestion, he continued. “Captain Simpson and Senior Specialist Kearn expected a routine first meeting. All we hoped to achieve was a mutual interest pact—perhaps an agreement to leave a signaling station on Kraos. A beginning—”

There was an unsteadiness to his voice. To distract him, I pushed my shoulder into his and received an unnecessary but companionable share of the blanket.
No xenophobia in this being,
I decided, impressed. “You speak excellent Lanivarian,” I offered in that language. “It is a gift to hear it again, Ragem; I have been here a while.”

“What does the Protark plan for us?”
Not distractable.
Well, perhaps he was right to worry at the main problem immediately.

“We won’t have long to wait,” I told him bluntly. “Or rather, you won’t. They believe I’m a Kraosian animal—a serlet—and just aren’t sure about my connection to you. I’ll be released.”
Or they’ll expect me to guard some farmyard or other,
another part of my mind said. The job sounded very appealing at the moment. “What will your ship do?”

His shrug brushed my shoulder. “Nothing,” Ragem said. “What can they do? If the Kraosians don’t want us on their world, we—they—must leave.” A pause. “And why not? The Protark can spin any tale he wishes. Contact Teams are supposed to lick their wounds and know when to make a hasty exit. The Commonwealth can wait lifetimes if necessary.”

I’d been afraid of that. “What about you? Don’t you carry any communications devices or signalers?”

“They searched me quite thoroughly, and took all I carried. They knew what they were looking for—” he stopped, sounding offended. “This wasn’t supposed to be a high risk world. We were given our shots and standard gear. Implants are expensive as well as uncomfortable.”

“Might not have worked under all this rock, anyway,” I comforted him, while trying to control my own rising anxiety. There was no rescue for either of us, then—no stellar champions waiting to sweep him back into space where he belonged so I could get back to my now-attractively boring assignment. “How long will your ship wait before it leaves Kraos?”

Silence for a moment. The cell was becoming stuffy as well as damp. I tried not to think of the weight of rock over our heads. “As long as it takes the Protark to convince them that we’re all dead, I expect,” he said matter-of-factly.

I jumped down, as much to put distance between myself and the sound of doom in his voice as to pace. “I’m without resources, as you know,” I confessed, making sure his hopes were not turning in that direction. “It seems we’re a good match for each other, Human.”

“There must be something we can do. Can we bargain with them?” Ragem asked abruptly. I thought he leaned forward. There were glints of reflections marking his eyes. “You must know this world and its people better than I do. What are their weaknesses, what do they value?”

“You have nothing to offer them that will persuade the Protark to release you,” I growled. “You aren’t a hostage, Human; you’re a threat. Ethrem was more typical than you realize. Kraos is a world of structure, of inborn place and predictability. They simply can’t believe in you and keep their pattern of the universe.” I kept to myself the logical extension of that thought:
What would they think of me?

He was quiet for a long time. I respected his need to think, to search for some way out. I had done that already, and disliked the options I saw. When his voice came again out of the dark, I was startled from a preoccupation with scratching a gathering host of passengers. “Then we must escape, Huntress.”

“We?” I asked.
Had he forgotten who was in danger here? Beyond the fleas, of course.

He misunderstood me. “I can’t leave you here. You’ve been incredibly lucky the Kraosians keep an animal in their cities so similar to you in form. That’s no protection now that I’m here, close to their own appearance, but alien. You must leave before you are discovered by more than that poor soldier.”

His naive concern settled around my neck like a noose. Despite my annoyance, I had to be gracious in return. “Kind of you to think of me, Specialist Ragem. But it’s one thing to recognize another humanoid as a threat; it’s quite another to suspect a dumb animal. I assure you I’m quite safe. However, you have a problem.”

And are a problem,
I added to myself. Orders never meant for this set of circumstances, nor my frame of mind, were whirling in my thoughts, contradictory and confusing, and all unhelpful. I was forbidden to act on his behalf; at the same time, the underlying philosophy of my training forbade me to ignore his plight. “Someone’s coming,” I snapped, backing toward a corner and sitting down.

Lights came on, blinding and overly bright, underscoring the futility of trying to surprise our jailers. Dourly, I lowered my muzzle and watched the cautious entry of two guards, one bearing a tray, the other with a weapon aimed and ready for use. Obviously, their experience in this environment was greater than ours. I pricked up my ears, recognizing the delicious fragrance fighting its way through the stench of our cell.
Sausages!

“Watch out you don’t get another bite,” one of the guards cautioned Ragem, an unnecessary confirmation that we were watched at least when the lights were on. The Human remained hunched within his filthy blanket, a figure of abject misery, eyes hot and red-rimmed in a face chalk-white between its smears of dirt. “Those curs know how to steal from a man’s plate, they do,” the guard continued with relish. “And take a finger or two on the way.” I showed a tooth resentfully as I lowered my head even farther; though my stomach was cramped with hunger, I knew there was nothing for me from these two.

“You are kind to warn me. Thank you for the food,” the Human said softly in the local Kraosian dialect, exquisitely polite as if to compensate for my failure to demonstrate which were the civilized races here. He took the tray, clinging with one white-knuckled hand to the blanket. It was an awkward, clumsy move born of stiffness and the damp night. Little wonder the plates slid onto the floor with a noisy crash.

Ragem looked down at the mess almost stupidly, somehow still clutching the small jug that had been on the tray. I took my cue and rushed forward, seizing the string of sausage, then wheeled back to my corner, a deep singsong growl advertising my intent to defend this treasure.

The weapon-bearing Kraosian laughed. The other, the one who had spoken, shook his head quite sadly. He gestured at the floor and, picking up the tray and plate, bowed to Ragem. “There’ll be no more today.” They left.

The betraying light remained, keeping me locked in my role of beast and the Human to his weary silence. Ragem dutifully ignored me, drinking deeply from the contents of the jug before gingerly fishing a piece of bread from the slops on the floor. I ate ravenously and noisily, accepting his gift with the only thanks I dared.

Next followed a long, dreary day, if day it was and not some trickery with the lights meant to exhaust the Human’s resources. Ragem refused to play the game, burying his head and sleeping most of the time. I amused myself by ambushing the small multilegged creatures attracted to the spilled food.
Thwump.
I trapped a particularly large specimen under my paw and transferred it to my mouth, chewing thoughtfully as I gazed up at the light.
Quite nutritious,
I decided,
if a shade acid in flavor.

By nature and training, I thought in terms of survival. The room was cold enough that I could release energy quite steadily, making it easier to hold this form. I decided only water was going to be a problem, should I live long enough. I took advantage of Ragem’s rest to stick a long tongue into the jug held in the curl of his arm. The taste made me sneeze—it was some kind of wine and bitter for all it was watered down. I lapped up a bit regardless.

Eventually the lights did go out again, marking a period of time I’m sure the Human hadn’t expected to survive. The abrupt blackness made me blink, waiting for my eyes to adjust. Before they did, I felt Ragem’s arms go about me to hold tightly, his face buried in the fur of my shoulder.

I had never been hugged before, and tolerated the awkward embrace for Ragem’s sake. Still, I found it a strangely comforting gesture. “Thanks for the food, Human,” I said to him quietly, pondering how to proceed.

My voice brought Ragem back from his collapse. He rose from his knees and moved away from me. I couldn’t see him, but a splash and muttered comment marked when he stepped in the food scraps on his way back to the bench. “I’ll ask for water, next,” a hoarse promise. So he was also compelled to think of survival.

It seemed unreasonable.

“Confronting the guards is pointless,” I said, climbing up beside him, keeping my own voice low. “I can last much longer than you can without water—and while I enjoy food, I don’t need to eat as often as you to survive.”

“Huntress, what am I surviving for?”

I couldn’t answer that; the Human wasn’t a fool, after all. I heard him drink some of the wine and refused his offer to share the rest. He finished it. “Are you giving up, then?” I asked his silhouette.

It stung, which was my intention. “As you said, Huntress,” he retorted defensively, “the Protark need only produce my dead body in order to convince my ship to leave.”

It was unfortunate that I had worse tidings to share, having spent much of my own time in thought. “You are assuming the Protark intends to let your ship leave. Do you believe he does, Human?” I asked him, keeping my tone level.

“What are you saying?” Ragem demanded, alarmed.

“Quietly!” I cautioned him. When I felt his body lose its rigidity, I continued. “From what you’ve told me, the Kraosians have already stopped three other ships from leaving their world. Why should they release yours? No. I think the Protark plans to move against your ship.”
With you or your corpse as bait,
I added to myself.

Silence, then a sudden violent movement as he drove a fist into his other hand. “There’s nothing I can do,” Ragem said finally, to himself rather than to me. “Kearn will be in command. He has experience—”

“You of all beings should know better than to underestimate this culture, Specialist,” I reminded him. “Treachery can strip the most advanced defenses. What if the Protark says that you have become ill? That he fears the ship has brought a disease to his world and insists on a medical team? That kind of excuse could open your air lock, make your starship vulnerable to the weapons of this planet.” I paused for effect. “You mustn’t be used as a key—you must warn your crewmates.”

A short, bitter laugh from my invisible companion. “Huntress, now you demand the impossible. I’m no security tech to overpower the guards and whisk us through the walls of this place. I respect your own courage—and teeth—but how far could those take us before we were recaptured or shot? This is no vid tale. We are helpless.” Despair and anger shook his voice. “Let’s hope you’re wrong. I have friends dearer to me than my own life on the
Rigus.
And there’s nothing I can do to help them except pray they leave me behind.”

I was tempted to howl. Of course I had known all along that I would be forced into this situation; known but refused to admit it until now. Ragem’s death at the hands of the Kraosians was something I would truly regret, but could have accepted. His chosen role on this world included being at risk. I could not accept the destruction of the innocent sapients on board his ship. Which meant he would have to warn them, and I would have to ensure he had the opportunity.
Beyond that,
I promised Ersh in my thoughts,
beyond that I won’t go.
I tried not to think of the rules already badly bent, in light of the one I now planned to break entirely.