X-wing_ Wraith Squadron Part 39

He switched on the chamber's terminal to the s.h.i.+p's computer. It was not likely that the computer would contain information about the creature, but it was possible...

And the index popped up the name Storini Gla.s.s Prowler.

He brought the data up on his monitor.

Nothing much that he hadn't seen on the instructional datapad, except for a sophisticated hologram showing the creature's exterior; on-screen controls allowed Grinder to move his point of view into the creature's insides and look at its physical structure at a variety of magnifications.

But at the bottom of the entry was a link labeled, "See also Storini Crystal Deceiver." He activated it.

And read, in growing dismay, the description.

Often mistaken for its nearest relative, the Gla.s.s Prowler, the Storini Crystal Deceiver is far less common and far more dangerous.

He skipped down past the description of the creature's natural habitat.

The Crystal Deceiver's jaws secrete a poison that is dangerous both to the native life-forms of Storinal and to mammals from other worlds. The creature feeds on creatures that prey on the Gla.s.s Prowler. It simulates the Gla.s.s Prowler's movements, luring predators to it; only when they strike does it revert to its natural speed and ferocity, eluding all attacks and ferociously biting its attacker. Its poison is a powerful paralytic that keeps its enemies helpless while it literally eats them alive.

Crystal Deceivers are a particular danger to mammalian life-forms because of their unusual olfactory-based memory retention. A Crystal Deceiver encountering the scent of a mammal will remember it for the rest of its life and follow it whenever it encounters the scent. This unfortunate trait has led to many instances of Crystal Deceivers following wilderness observers from the wild into communities and attacking them in their residences.

The poison of these creatures is not dangerous to healthy individuals.

The life of a victim of a Crystal Deceiver a.s.sault can be saved by medical treatment if the creature has not devoured an irreparable quant.i.ty of the victim's body ma.s.s. No. Grinder shook his head. The box had said Gla.s.s Prowler. Surely the corporation that had captured the insect for resale would not have made a mistake and boxed up a Crystal Deceiver instead.

Rattled, he switched off the terminal, then the overhead light, and returned to bed.

Scritch, scritch, scritch.

He switched the light back on. This time, the noise had come from the bulkhead beside his bed.

He took a close look at the wall. Were there any gaps in the bulkhead, any apertures through which a medium-sized insect could enter?

Yes. Power access ports. Slight gaps in durasteel panel welds. Above, poor fits around lighting fixtures. Night Caller was not a new s.h.i.+p; there would inevitably be ways for the thing to get in.

Ton Phanan answered on Grinder's third knock, sliding open the panel to his quarters and glaring with his one eye. "What?"

"Do you still have that spray sealant from Storinal?" Grinder asked.

"I see you remembered to wrap a towel around yourself this time."

"Never mind that. Do you?"

"Yes."

"Can I have it?"

"You have a middle-of-the-night plastic sealant emergency?"

"That's right."

Phanan sighed. "All right. Hold on." He returned to the door a minute later with the spray bottle.

"Thanks, Ton. I owe you."

"You owe me about an hour's sleep."

"I'll stand a watch for you sometime."

Grinder returned to his room and spent the next hour methodically plugging every gap, no matter how tiny, in his ceiling, walls, and floor-except for the air vent. He ran a power cable to the vent so that any creature touching it would be electrocuted. He heard no scratching in the meantime. Perhaps the creature had wandered off.

He switched off his lights.

This time there was no noise.

It took him another hour, but finally he dropped off to sleep.

Scritch, scritch, scritch.

For a moment he was too groggy to understand his own sense of alarm-too groggy, really, to remember his own name. Then he remembered both.

Scritch, scritch, scritch.

The noise was louder this time. Unm.u.f.fled. As if - As if the creature was within his room.

Cold fear gripped him. While he was out getting the sea ant from Ton Phanan, the Crystal Deceiver had slipped into his room.

Now it was trapped here, with him. It couldn't escape if it wanted to.

And it wouldn't want to. It would crawl on him and bite him and make a meal of his paralyzed body - With a moan, he reached out to turn on his side-table lamp.

It clicked, but didn't come on.

He peered around the room, but there wasn't even the faint green glow from his terminal power key.

Power was out to his quarters. Had the creature chewed through power cables to get in at him? No-it would have been electrocuted.

Was it smart enough to - No. Couldn't be.

Maybe it was a dream.

Scritch, scritch, scritch.

The creature was under his bed.

He shrieked and leaped up. He charged blindly across his quarters, slammed into the door before he realized he was upon it, and slapped the door switch.

Nothing.

He grabbed the door where it slid into the wall. He tugged at it, trying to accomplish with friction and finger pressure what it normally took servomotors to accomplish, and dragged it open-a fraction of an inch.

Beyond was empty corridor.

Scritch, scritch, scritch. Behind him. Still under the bed? Or coming for him, tottering on its gla.s.sy legs, with jaws distended?

He got his fingers into the door gap and heaved, slamming the doorway fully open.

A gla.s.sy chittering ma.s.s swung into his face from ahead and above.

He screamed and fell backward. He felt himself hit the hard floor of his quarters.

Then darkness claimed him.

26.

"He suffered some sort of fit, I think. Tests may tell us more; It was Ton Phanan's voice, and Grinder could see light through his closed eyelids. Cautiously, he opened them.

A ceiling, like the one in his quarters, but this was Night Caller's sick bay. He turned his head to see Phanan, standing by the door, talking to Wedge and Face, who were just inside the door, and Kell and Janson, who were just outside. All looked concerned.

Kell reacted to Grinder's motion and the others looked. "Ah," said Phanan. "He's awake. I won't have to amputate."

Grinder half rose in alarm. "Amputate what?"

"Well, it's your head that seems to be malfunctioning."

Grinder cautiously felt his face to make sure there was nothing remaining of the insect. "Don't joke. I was attacked."

Wedge asked, "By what?"

"A Storini Crystal Deceiver. It's an insect. Something like a Gla.s.s Prowler, but a lot deadlier."

The other pilots looked at one another dubiously. Grinder felt irritation rise within him. "You can look it up on the s.h.i.+p's computer. And unless I killed the thing, it's somewhere in the s.h.i.+p. Maybe behind the bulkheads."

Phanan moved to the terminal and tapped his way through a series of menus. "I don't find anything about a Crystal Deceiver."

"It's a link from the entry for the Gla.s.s Prowler."

"I don't find an entry for the Gla.s.s Prowler." Grinder stood unsteadily and stared over the doctor's shoulder.

Phanan was right; there was no entry in the s.h.i.+p's encyclopedia for any life-form from Storinal.

"I suggest," Phanan said, "that it was a dream. Something stress-induced, perhaps. But I think I'd like to keep you under observation tonight."

"I'm fine," Grinder snapped.

"Do as he says," Wedge said. "Grinder, your scream woke up half the s.h.i.+p.

You cooperate with Phanan or I'll have him certify you unfit to fly until you do."

"Sir, that bug is a killer. It bites you and paralyzes you and you lie there while it eats you. If you don't hunt it down and kill it right now, it'll make Night Caller its own banquet hall."

Wedge glanced at Phanan, who shook his head. "You have your orders,"

Wedge said. "Get some sleep." He gestured for the other pilots to accompany him, and left.

Janson followed, but Face lingered and shut the door.

"Face, I've got to make you believe me-"

"Sit."

Grinder flopped down on his sick-bay cot. "Please-"

"Let me show you something." From his jumpsuit pocket, Face pulled a crude a.s.sembly of small mechanical parts. Grinder recognized a standard speaker from New Republic-issue datapads, a tiny battery, trailing wires.

Face touched the bare ends of two wires together.

The speaker said, "Scritch, scritch, scritch."

Grinder was suddenly standing. He didn't remember rising, but now he was advancing on Face. "You-"

Phanan seized his shoulders, dragged him back down onto the cot. Grinder struggled and glared up at Phanan. "What the h.e.l.l is going on?"

"Payback," Face said. "Do you deny that you put that bug in my c.o.c.kpit?"

"I - What? What bug? I don't know-" Grinder saw the implacable expression Face wore and gave up the pretense. "All right. I did. So what?"

"So you also did all that other stuff. The dummy in Falynn's closet. The leaping tubes and wires in Kell's locker. Plenty of other tricks. All the while sneering at the idea of pranks."

"I did not."

"No one else could have done it without leaving a trace on the s.h.i.+p's computer. You cracked pa.s.swords right and left to do it."

Grinder set his jaw and didn't answer. Face shrugged. "So, payback. My way of saying I don't appreciate it. My way of saying stop. Because this is about the lowest setting of payback I know."

"How'd you do it?" Grinder asked. "Which part?"

"All of it."

Face finally grinned. "To start with, when that Gla.s.s Prowler crawled out from under my seat and onto me-"

"Right, why didn't you react?"

"Well, I thought it was Phanan's." Grinder turned to the doctor.