“Go to the head of the class. A rear admiral with top-secret clearance can get a lot done behind the scenes. I had her vectored close to the artifact and then set off the charge that sank her.”
“A hundred and twenty-one dead?” Russell said.
Jack gave him an amused look. “How long do you think it takes for a hundred twenty-one people to starve to death on this planet?”
“That’s beside the—”
“A little over four minutes. If you’re feeling all weepy, go feed somebody.” He gestured toward a work table. “Let’s sit.”
They followed him over. He sat and poured coffee from a thermos into a Styrofoam cup. “Coffee?”
The changeling took a cup but didn’t drink from it. Russell sat down uneasily. “How long have you been Jack Halliburton? Did you write—”
“Bathyspheric Measurements and Computation? No. I’ve read it, of course. I took over Halliburton’s identity in 2015, because he seemed like a logical person to ‘discover’ the artifact and hire you to retrieve it.”
“You killed him?”
“What else could I do, adopt him? We went sailing together one evening and I broke his neck and sent his body down with an anchor. Be glad it wasn’t you. Could’ve been.”
“Are you always a scientist?” the changeling asked.
“Rarely. Usually I’ve been a soldier of some kind. You said you were on the Bataan Death March. Which side?”
“United States.”
“That must have been … diverting. I would have chosen Japan.”
“You decided to kill Halliburton,” Russell said, “just like that?”
“No, not ‘just like that.’ ” There was some exasperation in his voice. “Not that it was difficult, but I did have to study him first. As I have studied you.” He pointed a finger. “You’re about to attack me; I can smell the norepinephrine in your sweat. Don’t do it. I could swat you dead like a fly.”
“But you have to kill me eventually, anyhow,” Russell said, “and her, too. To protect your secret—”
“Don’t jump to conclusions, Russ. I have more interesting options than killing you.” He turned his attention back to the changeling. “Bataan was terrible. You must enjoy pain.”
“No, but I can tune it out. Sometimes we have to bear it, to know what it’s like to be human.”
“Why would you want to do that? That’s like a human being wanting to know how it feels to be a turnip.”
“Not at all.”
He shook his head. “You like them. You think you love this one. It’s like loving a turnip.”
“You’ve never liked or loved anyone? Since the Stone Age?”
In an instant he changed into a burly thug, all scars and tattoos, and he had Russell by the wrist. “Tol’ you,” he said in a deep growl. “Don’ do that.” Russell dropped the pen he’d been holding like a dagger.
“Don’t you hurt him!”
He turned back into Halliburton, the skinny seventy-year-old, still clutching Russell’s wrist in an iron grip. “How would you stop me?”
With thumb and forefinger she pinched the edge of the table and twisted it. A long jagged piece of wood popped up, rifle-shot crack, and separated, screeching as she ripped it away. She held it out like an offering. “I could shove this up your ass and break it off.”
He let go of Russell and leaned forward. “Is that a serious offer? I might enjoy it. I rather did the last time, back in the Crusades, though I had to pretend to die, along with the others.”
He gently picked the long fat splinter from between her fingers and slowly slid it down his throat, like a sword-swallower. He closed his mouth, coughed once, and shrugged. “Do you want to threaten me with something more serious?”
She shook her head slowly. “I don’t see why we have to be adversaries. We should learn from each other.”
“I’m learning. You could be.” He gestured at the artifact behind her. “What did you mean by a ‘song’? You think you can communicate with it vocally?”
“Acoustic vibration. You’ve been doing that with your solenoid.”
“Why don’t you give it a try, then? Sing your little heart out.”
She stood up slowly and backed away, toward the artifact, not taking her eyes off the chameleon and Russell. “If you touch him—”
“I wouldn’t dream of it. Go ahead.”
When she was next to the artifact, she reached up and touched its mirror surface—then recoiled, as if from an electric shock.
“What is it?” Russell said.
She shook her head and started to trill. It was an unearthly sound, and no human could have done it, glottal stops modulating one tone in rapid-fire Morse code.
It was over in forty-five seconds. All three stared at the artifact; nothing overt happened.
The chameleon rose and walked quietly over to stand next to her, Russell following just behind. “Looks like it didn’t work.”
“I felt something. Give it time.”
“We have plenty of time. Don’t worry.” The chameleon reached out and absently stroked her arm; gently took her wrist. “The arm’s all healed?”
She cocked her head. “Of course.”
“Pity.” He pulled down hard and the shoulder socket popped sickeningly, and the arm ripped off. An instant later her other hand came up and struck his face so hard the lower hinge of the jaw broke off and swung free.
He staggered back and threw the arm away, and used both hands to press his chin back into place.
“What are you doing?” she said. After an initial spray, the bleeding from her shoulder stopped.
It took a moment for the jaw to fuse back into place. “I’m doing … what I’ve lived for, for thousands of years.”
“Why?”
“Only one of us per planet.”
“I’m not one of you.”
“But you are—” Russ leaped onto his back and put a scissor- hold on his throat. The chameleon threw him off like a doll, to crash against the heavy laser mount.
“You are my only rival here. This is not personal. You just have to die.”
She sidled around to where Russ was lying still. “It became personal when you hurt him. And I can’t die.”
“I believe I can put you into a state equivalent to death. All I have to do is tear you into several pieces and make sure those pieces stay separate. For all time.”
The changeling found a pulse in Russell’s throat and stood between him and the monster. “I could do the same to you.”
“Not with one arm, I think. You won’t have time to grow a new one, and you can’t leave this room to do so at leisure.”
She looked at the walls. “You’re wrong. I could be through that wall and in the water in seconds. I don’t think you want to face me in the water. Even one-armed.”
“Leave and I’ll kill him. Your choice.”
The changeling hesitated. Jack couldn’t let Russ live, no matter what happened to her.
“Go ahead,” the chameleon said. “I won’t even try to stop you. You’ll be back, and meanwhile I’ll enjoy killing him slowly. He hasn’t been easy to work with.”
She tried another tack. “I don’t understand you. You’re like a scientist who’s searched all his life for something, but when you find it, you want to destroy it without learning anything first.”
“I learned enough before you left that bedroom to come here. And I’m no more a scientist than you are a woman.” He suddenly looked left. “Well, isn’t that cute.”
The amputated arm was transforming itself into a weapon. The nails had become long metal talons and eyes had formed over two knuckles. Pseudopods along the sides were turning into insectoid legs.
He turned back to the changeling. “Let me show you what I looked like when I first started looking for you.” He became more than a foot shorter, bulking out so much that his T-shirt and shorts split. Black hair bristled all over his body and his face coarsened into Neanderthal features. He tore the rags of clothing away to reveal massive ridges of muscle and prominent genitals, engorged.