Julie E. Czerneda - Webshifters 02 - Changing Vision

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CHANGING VISION

Webshifters 2

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;

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Chapter 5: Restaurant Morning

Chapter 6: Conservatory Afternoon

Chapter 7: Starship Night

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Chapter 8: Starship Afternoon;

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Chapter 9 : School Morning;

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Chapter 10: School Afternoon

Chapter 11: School Night;

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Chapter 12: School Morning;

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Chapter 13: School Afternoon

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Chapter 14: School Night;

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Chapter 15: Freighter Night;

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Chapter 16: Starship Morning;

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Chapter 17: Warship Morning

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Chapter 18: Galley Morning

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Chapter 19: Galley Afternoon;

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Chapter 20: Warship Night

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Chapter 21: Flight Deck Night

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Chapter 22: Chartroom Night

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Chapter 23: Brig Night;

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Chapter 24: Flight Deck Morning; Shuttle Afternoon

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Chapter 25: Freighter Morning

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Chapter 26: Hold Night;

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Chapter 27: Tank Afternoon

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Chapter 28: Tank Night

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Chapter 29: Hydroponics Morning

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Chapter 30: Hydroponics Afternoon

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Chapter 31: Hold Morning;

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Chapter 32: Station Afternoon

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Chapter 33: Festival Afternoon;

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Chapter 34: Gallery Night

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Chapter 35: Subbasement Night

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Chapter 36: 'Digger Night

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Chapter 37: Shipcity Morning

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Chapter 38: Seaside Afternoon;

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Chapter 39: Shuttle Night;

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Chapter 40: Lounge Morning

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Chapter 41: Asteroid Afternoon

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Chapter 42: Asteroid Afternoon

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Chapter 43: Asteroid Night

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Chapter 44: Asteroid Midnight

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Chapter 45: Asteroid Morning

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Chapter 46: Asteroid Afternoon

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Chapter 47: Med Room Afternoon

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Chapter 48: Storeroom Afternoon;

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Chapter 49: Hydroponics Afternoon

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Chapter 50: Office Morning;

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Chapter 51: Warehouse Afternoon

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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

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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