Number Twelve Leafydale Place
Greensward-by-Efraim
Delgado
A warm breeze wandered the garden, stroking the new leaves with fingers full of promise. Overhead, the stars stretched in a glittering tapestry, made finite by the spill of light from Efraim and the Wall.
Jen Sar Kiladi reclined upon a bench that would later in the season be hidden by a fragrant tumble of westaria vines; one soft-shoed foot on the stone seat, one braced against the ground. His head was on the cold arm rest; and his eyes on the stars. His thoughts, however, were elsewhere.
Theo was not the target, Aelliana said, her voice quiet inside his head.
"I consider it unlikely. What we must consider is if Kamele is the target."
There was silence for a time, save for the flirtatious rustling of the leaves. He did not have the sense that she had withdrawn, however; merely that she was considering the matter. As he was.
No, she said eventually. It would require conjoined efforts from Housing and Info Systems—and how yet would they know which room she would choose as her own? There are too many hands, and too much left to chance.
"Chance," he murmured. "Are they so slovenly, do you think, Aelliana? Or are they—" He stopped and sat up so suddenly last season's vines clattered around him.
What is it?
"What if it is not sloven chance, but bright cunning? Recall that Technician Singh told us 'old wire' was woven all through the elder apartments. Why confine the Serpent to one apartment?"
If, indeed, it could be confined.
"Precisely."
But how to prove it?
He smiled. "We ask an expert, of course."
* * *
"You needn't wonder if I'm in, Theo," Kamele said sharply. "I've just returned from a meeting."
Right, Theo thought, another meeting. And not a good one, either, judging by her mother's tone and the set of her shoulders. Kamele being in a bad mood wasn't going to make Win Ton's apology any easier, but it was obviously too late to go away and come back later.
Kamele looked past her, pointedly.
"Trainee yo'Vala, how good of you to escort Theo."
The words were polite, but spoken in that too-sharp tone. Chair Hafley, Theo thought, must've been at the meeting. Maybe Clyburn, too. Out of the side of her eye, she saw Win Ton bow, slow, as if he wanted to convey some special meaning.
"Professor Waitley, I enjoy Theo's company, and . . . appreciate her kindness in permitting me to attend her—your pardon!"
The last phrase held a note of surprised excitement. Theo turned, her eye following his, but—really, there was nothing to see except the seam where the stateroom door sealed against the floor. Or—
Win Ton went to one knee, his hand going inside his jacket.
"Please," he said, with a glance up to her face; "mark where this goes, if it escapes me."
He produced a clear tubular container, thumbed the lid off as it came into view.
"What do you have?"
Theo jumped. Kamele was at her side, peering with her at the edge of the door. Win Ton's back and head were mostly in their way but there was something brownish, very nearly the colors of the floor, moving—scuttling—up the frame . . .
With a practiced air, Win Ton suddenly flicked at the scuttling something with the lid and pressed it down on the tube.
"I am not certain what I have, Professor Waitley," he said, rising easily to his feet. "Here."
He showed them the tube: within was an insect . . . or maybe not.
"If you see any more of these, would you please point them out?"
Theo frowned, staring at the thing in the tube. "It doesn't look quite right, does it? I've seen lots of bugs but this one . . . it isn't really an ant, or a beetle." She touched the tube gently. "It looks hurt or something."
Kamele leaned in, her shoulder against Theo's, looking closely at the tube.
"It also seems to be changing color," she commented, and at least she didn't sound snappish any more.
Win Ton glanced at the tube with its transforming burden, and inclined his head.
"Perhaps," he said softly, "we should take it out of the hall. Theo, do you see any more?"
She looked around the door seal, to the ceiling, along the edging that ran the length of the hall . . .
"I don't see any," she said, "but I don't think I would've seen that one. You've got quick eyes!"
"As you do," he returned. "And now that you have seen one, you will know what you are looking at, if you should see another."
Kamele approached the door, key out, and paused a moment to do her own visual check.
"It seems that it was acting alone," she said ironically.
"Good," Win Ton answered seriously.
Kamele used her key, and waved them into the stateroom.
"Should we report an infestation to the ship?" Kamele asked, staring at the tube, "Or does that require multiple sightings?"
Win Ton glanced away from tube, and looked directly into her face.
"If I had found this elsewhere, simply sitting or walking randomly on a wall or table . . . it might have been a curiosity. I would still likely have . . . taken it for a specimen, since they are rarely seen. However, finding it . . . working, as indeed it may still be working, I am made far more curious. An infestation . . . that would be an extreme. As to reporting it—"
He held the tube out to her.
"Look closely, Professor Waitley. Theo has very good reactions. Very good."
Amazing Theo, Kamele thought as she received the tube, which was lighter than she'd expected. She held it up to her face.
The . . . insect was about the length of a finger joint, and it was testing the tube's seal. Thwarted, it turned and . . . ran! . . . toward the opposite side. Stopped precipitously by the end of the tube, the insect tried to climb the slippery stuff . . .
"It appears to be autonomous action, does it not?" Win Ton's voice was so soft that it barely pierced her attention mist. "For all we know it is recording, what we say, or what it sees of us. Or it may need to establish a location before it can transmit."
She looked up at him. "You're saying this is a construct? A . . ." She groped for the proper word—"A spying device?"
"So it would seem to me. I will show it to my captain and gain the benefit of her knowledge of such things. In the meanwhile, perhaps we should let it rest." He reached into his jacket again and withdrew a small bag. It shimmered as he flicked it open, as if it had silver woven among the threads.
"What're you carrying in there," Theo asked, "a laboratory?"
Win Ton laughed gently as he slipped the tube into the bag and sealed it.
"I am carrying a sampling kit, Sweet Theo, which I am required to do at all times by my captain, since I failed to carry one when I should have on another occasion. I am also carrying this . . ." He tucked the tube away, produced a bowli ball, and handed to Theo, ". . . which we shall wish to discuss shortly, and some ration bars, and candy, which I always do."
"Why," Kamele said slowly, "would it be here?"
"Maybe it got lost," Theo said.
"Perhaps it did, as Theo suggests, become lost," Win Ton answered seriously. "Or perhaps it was meant to be here. It may, after all, be a ship's tool, though if that were so, we must surely have seen others."
"Well." Kamele sighed. "I'll be interested in learning what you find out about it."
He bowed. "Certainly."
Kamele took a deep breath and smiled at the two of them. "As fascinating as this episode has been, I gather that it was not the reason I am afforded a visit to my stateroom."
"No, ma'am, it is not," the Liaden agreed, bowing again. "My captain instructs me that I should . . . be offering apologies." He glanced at Theo, a friendly, even a warm glance.
Kamele felt her stomach tighten all over again, and held onto her smile.
"In that case," she said brightly, "perhaps we should sit down."
* * *
Do you think it will lie? Aelliana asked.
"Perhaps it will," he answered, pouring a glass of wine. "Certainly, it has demonstrated some craft. We shall see."