Julie E. Czerneda - Webshifters 02 - Changing Vision
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CHANGING VISION
Webshifters 2
By
Julie E. Czerned
Contents
Elsewhere
Chapter 1: Office Morning;
Chapter 2: Office Afternoon
Chapter 3: Cliff's Edge Night
Elsewhere
Chapter 4: Cliff's Edge Night;
Elsewhere
Chapter 5: Restaurant Morning
Chapter 6: Conservatory Afternoon
Chapter 7: Starship Night
Elsewhere
Chapter 8: Starship Afternoon;
Elsewhere
Chapter 9 : School Morning;
Elsewhere
Chapter 10: School Afternoon
Chapter 11: School Night;
Elsewhere
Chapter 12: School Morning;
Elsewhere
Chapter 13: School Afternoon
Elsewhere
Chapter 14: School Night;
Elsewhere
Chapter 15: Freighter Night;
Elsewhere
Chapter 16: Starship Morning;
Elsewhere
Chapter 17: Warship Morning
Elsewhere
Chapter 18: Galley Morning
Elsewhere
Chapter 19: Galley Afternoon;
Elsewhere
Chapter 20: Warship Night
Elsewhere
Chapter 21: Flight Deck Night
Elsewhere
Chapter 22: Chartroom Night
Elsewhere
Chapter 23: Brig Night;
Elsewhere
Chapter 24: Flight Deck Morning; Shuttle Afternoon
Elsewhere
Chapter 25: Freighter Morning
Elsewhere
Chapter 26: Hold Night;
Elsewhere
Chapter 27: Tank Afternoon
Elsewhere
Chapter 28: Tank Night
Elsewhere
Chapter 29: Hydroponics Morning
Elsewhere
Chapter 30: Hydroponics Afternoon
Elsewhere
Chapter 31: Hold Morning;
Elsewhere
Chapter 32: Station Afternoon
Elsewhere
Chapter 33: Festival Afternoon;
Elsewhere
Chapter 34: Gallery Night
Elsewhere
Chapter 35: Subbasement Night
Elsewhere
Chapter 36: 'Digger Night
Elsewhere
Chapter 37: Shipcity Morning
Elsewhere
Chapter 38: Seaside Afternoon;
Elsewhere
Chapter 39: Shuttle Night;
Elsewhere
Chapter 40: Lounge Morning
Elsewhere
Chapter 41: Asteroid Afternoon
Elsewhere
Chapter 42: Asteroid Afternoon
Elsewhere
Chapter 43: Asteroid Night
Elsewhere
Chapter 44: Asteroid Midnight
Elsewhere
Chapter 45: Asteroid Morning
Elsewhere
Chapter 46: Asteroid Afternoon
Elsewhere
Chapter 47: Med Room Afternoon
Elsewhere
Chapter 48: Storeroom Afternoon;
Elsewhere
Chapter 49: Hydroponics Afternoon
Elsewhere
Chapter 50: Office Morning;
Elsewhere
Chapter 51: Warehouse Afternoon
Elsewhere
Chapter 52: Cliff's Edge Night
Elsewhere
Julie E. Czerneda
CHANGING VISION
Web Shifters 2
One human knew what she truly was—but those who suspected were determined
to destroy her!
***
CAUGHT IN A WEB OF HER OWN MAKING—
Esen-alit-Quar had violated the First Rule of her species when she revealed her
existence to a human named Paul Ragem. And though both Paul and Esen had
survived, others of Esen's Web had not been so fortunate. Es could hardly believe
that fifty years had passed since the terrifying events which had nearly cost her her
life and which had forced Paul to give up everything a human treasured—family,
friends, even his own identity—to protect the secret of her continued survival. In that
time they had built a new life together out on the Fringe. They had a successful
export company, friends and associates.
Esen, now known as Esolesy Ki and wearing the form of a Lishcyn—a species
rare enough in the Commonwealth and never seen in the Fringe—was perfectly
content to remain on the world of Minas XII, leaving it to Paul to travel the starways
on company business. Meanwhile she used their vast information resources to
search for any signs that others of her kind had found their galaxy.
What neither Es nor Paul could foresee was that a simple "vacation" trip would
plunge the two of them into the heart of a diplomatic nightmare—and threaten to
expose both Es and Paul to the hunters who had never been convinced of their
destruction…
ISBN 0-88677-904-9
The Finest in DAW Science Fiction
from JULIE E. CZERNEDA:
Web Shifters:
BEHOLDER'S EYE (#1)
CHANGING VISION (#2)
The Trade Pact Universe:
A THOUSAND WORDS FOR STRANGER (#1)
TIES OF POWER (#2)
http://www.czerneda.com
Julie E. Czerneda
CHANGING VISION
DAW BOOKS, INC.
DONALD A. WOLLHEIM, FOUNDER
375 Hudson Street, New York, NY 10014
ELIZABETH R. WOLLHEIM
SHEILA E. GILBERT
PUBLISHERS
Copyright © 2000 by Julie E. Czerneda.
All Rights Reserved.
Cover art by Luis Royo.
DAW Book Collectors No. 1160.
DAW Books are distributed by Penguin Putnam Inc.
All characters and events in this book are fictitious. Any resemblance to persons
living or dead is strictly coincidental.
First Printing, August 2000
DAW TRADEMARK REGISTERED
U.S. PAT. OFF. AND FOREIGN COUNTRIES
—MARCA REGISTRADA.
HECHO EN U.S.A
PRINTED IN THE U.S.A.
For Jennifer Lynn Czerneda
This has been the hardest one yet to write, which seems only fair. It was an
impossible task from the start. I can't possibly distill the love and pride I feel for you
into mere words. I've tried several times and failed. Perhaps if I had an immense and
lovely lake into which I could toss diamonds… or some way to coat the near side of
the Moon with sapphires… or… you can see my problem. The canvas isn't remotely
big enough.
So I'll just tell you this, Princess: your Dad and I knew you were something
special from the moment you opened your wise blue eyes. You've grown into a
spectacular woman: bright, loving, and marvelously brave. May you have joy and
adventures as well as warm, comfy moments—and remember, the way home is
through our hearts.
Mom
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
Book four. The most fun yet! I'd need a lot more room to respond to all the
kindnesses done to me this year, but I'll do my best.
Thank you, Sheila Gilbert, for your extraordinary efforts to read manuscript
during the millennium rollover, despite house construction and visitors. You caught
all my lazy and shy spots, improving this story immensely. A special thanks to my
alpha reader, Roxanne BB Hubbard, for thoughtful edits and thumping at the right
moments.
I'd like to thank the original Lefebvre, Chase, and Sandner for kindly letting me
use their names, brave souls. I promised no maiming, but, for the record, your
fictional characters have nothing to do with the real you (except any nice bits).
I must single out a particular bunch for their wonderful support and
encouragement this past year: my newsgroup. If I'd known all these talented and
interesting folks would be there, I'd have jumped in sooner. While I can't possibly fit
you all, I'd like to thank Janet BF Chase, Annette Griessman, Jason FFTS Simcoe,
Kim McLean, Beverley Meincke, Matt & Karen Cecile, Nicole Hare, Ruth Stuart,
Samuel Paik, Iris Peace, David Brukman, Lara Herrera, Liz Bennefeld, Michael
Picray, Tim Bowie, Don Bassie, and Alan Mietlowski. And Anne Bishop, who drops
in to kindly share the fun and herself.
My sincere thanks to all those who were so very excited for me during my run at
the Campbell Award, including James Van Pelt, Nalo Hopkinson, Cindy Huckle, and
Lyn McConchie.
My thanks to everyone at DAW Books, especially Sean, Debra, and Amy. I'm
very happy to finally acknowledge the most able and thoughtful work of Paula
Greenberg, who copy-edits all of my manuscripts, alien names and all. And Luis,
you keep getting better. Wow!
Thanks, Jennifer and Scott. Your encouragement and interest makes this a joy for
me. (Not to mention your skill at sneaking into my office to see if I'm really
working.)
And thank you, Roger. For what this time? For everything.
Elsewhere
^ »
"FIFTY years."
A drop of sweat coalesced on the bald head of the Human standing at the end of
the long table, a drop large enough to create its own runnel over his forehead,
hesitate in a bushy eyebrow, then push through to land in one eye. The Human
blinked involuntarily, but remained stiffly at attention, as if pinned in place by the
glare of the lights aimed his way. "You don't appreciate the circumstances, sir. There
are…"
"Fifty years without a trace, without a sign, without proof, Project Leader Kearn."
Out of the shadows, fingernails drummed a staccato on the table, a seven-part
rhythm oddly disturbing to those accustomed to a different number of fingers per
hand. "Five decades in which this monster of yours—this evil incarnate—hasn't
shown itself. In which you've been unable to convince any of our predecessors that
the only one in existence didn't die that day." There was a pause as the fingers
opened a file. "No one here denies your scholarly accomplishments, Project Leader
Kearn. Your research into, ah, yes, into the commonalities of the folklore concerning
such creatures—among what I find a frankly astonishing number of species and
cultures—has added greatly to our understanding of one another. You are to be
commended." The file was snapped closed. "But even you must admit actually
hunting for this Esen Monster is a criminal waste of time and resources."
"It's just a matter of time, Horn Slatth," the Human named Lionel Kearn offered
numbly, finding it hard to control his wild impatience. It was Her fault he was
embarrassed like this over and over again; Her fault he had to constantly remind
these bureaucrats and their lackeys of the danger posed by such utter alienness.
It was Her fault he'd lost his first and only command fifty years ago.
"I'll bring you the evidence," Kearn continued, fighting the tendency of his voice
to develop a whining note. Sector Commissioner Slatth, as most Niderons, tended to
a regrettable aggression when faced with weakness of any sort—even this smooth
and sophisticated diplomat had inflated his nostril hood in instinctive threat several
times during Kearn's briefing. And the others here—three Humans, the bagful of
Rands spilling off a chair, and a doleful pile of crystal at the end of the table he was
supposed to believe was the representative from Picco's Moon—well, none of them
were any better. They'd lost patience with him and with his quest even more quickly
than the last set.
As he'd done many times before, Kearn consoled himself with the fact that his
meandering through Commonwealth space brought him into differing jurisdictions
quite regularly, insuring a fresh stream of politicians and the chance to continue his
work.
It also meant the same old arguments and resisting the same skepticism. "You've
admitted my research has been extensive. I've found shapeshifter legends and horror
stories everywhere. There must be more than one creature. And the Esen Monster
can't hide what She is," Kearn insisted firmly. "Not forever."
"Forever isn't an issue, Kearn," Slatth almost hissed. "Your funding and career
lasting to this particular year's end is. Do we understand one another?"
The pause following Slatth's words lengthened as Kearn fumbled for some
meaningful rebuttal. Before he could speak, one of the other Humans from the
meeting took advantage of his hesitation. "For all of this," the committee member
from Inhaven poked a stylo dismissively at the huge stack of plas disks and other
reports Kearn had willingly supplied. "For all of this, Project Leader, I remain
unconvinced you are correct in attributing the events you witnessed to some
biological entity. How could such a being exist outside of fairy tales? Is it not more
likely your so-called monster was a Kraal device: some new weapon tech being
tested? You know how paranoid they can be about their military secrets. I've heard
rumors of a so-called 'Nightstalker' device—a terrifying biological weapon the five
major family clans abandoned as too dangerous, although I believe the term they
used was 'inelegant.' Isn't this device more likely than some mythological monster,
Horn Kearn?"
"Respectfully, sirs," Kearn couldn't help rolling his eyes and kept his hands at his
side with an effort that left him feeling dizzy. "The Kraal have been most supportive
of my search. They supplied several of the most detailed eyewitness accounts—"
"My point exactly, Project Leader Kearn," the speaker continued. Sandner, that
was his name, a lean older Human who had been a merchant at one time and still
claimed to have close ties in the Fringe. Then why didn't he remember the panic?
Kearn asked himself bitterly. The loss of life, the abandoned ships: it had all begun in
the Fringe, moving from its almost unpopulated mining systems to the more
concentrated worlds of its boundary with the Commonwealth. Or did those on
humanity's frontier have selective memories of their past? a suspicion Kearn almost
said out loud, before closing his lips over what was wisely kept private.
"All I'm asking is your permission to move through these next three systems,"
Kearn said instead, blinking another drop of sweat from his eyes. "Some
cooperation from local authorities, your approval to open the records I need—that's
all."
"And funding." This from Slatth, who pushed a long plas sheet with a detailed
supply list into the nearest circle of light on the dark table. There was a rustle as the
rest reached for their own copies, followed by discouragingly discordant chimes and
other sounds as they started to reread his requests.
Requests? Those were the absolute essentials—the list a pared-down version of
the minimum needed to keep his ship, crew, and search underway. Kearn swallowed.
This group was going to be tougher than the last two; perhaps they'd already
decided against him and were merely trotting out their excuses.
There was no thought in his mind of ending his quest. He would find Esen and the
rest of Her kind, even though they could travel through space, hide in any form, or
rip apart a starship as casually as he might peel a piece of fruit. He would find them.
They would no longer be a threat to the Commonwealth.
Even if he had to do it alone.
Chapter 1: Office Morning; Warehouse Night
« ^ »
FIFTY years.
A teardrop in an ocean as my species experienced time.
A quarter of a life span for the being whose image smiled back at me from the
clutter on my desk. Through his eyes, it had been time enough for maturity, for a
new generation to begin, for a swift series of years to bind us as close as the strands
of my former Web.
I cleared a space on my desk by the simple expedient of shoving the centermost
pile of plas and tapes to the floor, then placed the small, carved box within the
opening. Habit made me listen for sounds from the outer office, take a quick look
around. I was alone. The rest of the staff of Cameron & Ki Exports would be
coming in later; my friend and partner, Paul Ragem—now known as Paul
Cameron—usually spent the morning over at the shipcity dickering with traders.
I tapped the side of the box once. Its opaque sides folded open, revealing a small
medallion inscribed with our company's logo: our names entwined about a starship,
the date added below. Tilting my head, I made myself examine it critically. Was the
silver oval too plain or pleasing in its simplicity?
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background-1--2--3--4--5--6--7--8--9--a--b--c--d--e--f--g--clear-color-1--2--3--4--5--6--7--8--9- CHANGINGVISIONWebshifters2ByJulieE.CzernedContentsElsewhereChapter1:OfficeMorning;Chapter2:OfficeAfternoonChapter3:Cliff'sEdgeNightElsewhereChapter4:Cliff'sEdgeNight;ElsewhereChapter5:RestaurantMorningC...
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时间：2024-12-19
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