Weird Space 2: Satan's Reach by Eric Brown Page B

pocket.
    “Oh – and you’re right,” Gorley went on. “There is one thing that I haven’t yet told you.”
    From his tone, she knew she wasn’t going to like this one bit.
    “Which is?”
    “You’re not going alone.”
    She sat forward, belligerently. “You know I always work alone, Gorley! I don’t need an Expansion chaperone!”
    “You’ll have a partner this time, Janaker, and it’s no Expansion chaperone.”
    She sighed, “Okay, but only if she’s cute and puts out.”
    Gorley smiled, but she didn’t like the sly look on his face.
    “What?” she said.
    “Your partner is a Vetch.”
    She stared at him. “A Vetch! A fucking Vetch? You’re kidding? This is a joke, right?”
    “Calm down, Janaker. Put your xenophobic prejudices to one side for a while and face the facts. We have recently entered into a pact with the Vetch. All our old hostilities have been set aside in the face of the threat our races jointly face. We will work together with the Vetch to defeat the Weird. To this end, Helsh Kreller is accompanying you to the Reach in order to bring the telepath back to the Expansion.”
    A Vetch... She had never actually met a Vetch in the flesh – images of them had been enough to put her off the idea of ever encountering one. They were big and hairy and dog-like – and rumour had it that they stank – and they had faces that looked like rectal haemorrhoids sliced into bloody strips... and they had been at war with the human race for god knew how long, and were responsible for atrocities on the human-settled border territories fifty years ago...
    And she was going to share her starship with one of these bastards?
    “You’ve overstepped the limits of your authority here, Gorley.”
    “You could, Janaker, always take your place before a firing squad, if you don’t like the idea of working with an alien.”
    “Fuck you.”
    He smiled. “I take that as an agreement to work in inter-species harmony to aid our joint efforts to thwart the Weird.” He glanced at his watch. “You will meet Helsh Kreller in one hour. Before that, you might like to take a meal with me in the restaurant.”
     
     
    J ANAKER PUSHED ASIDE her plate, the food untouched, and stared past Commander Gorley at the... thing ... that had entered the restaurant.
    Heads turned, and a ripple of comment passed through the gathered diners as the Vetch strode towards their table.
    Janaker closed her mouth and tried not to show her revulsion.
    She guessed the alien was three metres tall, and very broad. It wore a black flight-suit that emphasised its military aspect, and had arms and legs that seemed disproportionately long in relation to its torso, and when it walked its legs flexed in a way that was not normal. But it was its face that she found repulsive, and at the same time fascinating. There was something of the hound about it, especially around the bulging eyes, but the pendent, blood-coloured tentacles that hung from the centre of its face – and acted, so she’d read, as both a nose and a mouth – were like something from a nightmare.
    She stood, and Gorley made the introductions. The Vetch held out a claw, six-fingered and covered in hair, and Janaker found herself responding. The creature’s grip was surprisingly slack.
    “I do not take orders,” it said in a gruff, muffled baritone which seemed to issue from somewhere amongst its tentacles. “We work in unison, as equals, sharing knowledge, debating scenarios. You agree?”
    “I have no objections to that,” she said. “And it’s refreshing that you don’t beat around the bush.”
    “Which means?”
    “Ms Janaker means,” Gorley said, “that she likes the way you forthrightly articulate your thoughts.”
    The Vetch regarded her with its bloodhound eyes. “In my experience there is no other way. Perhaps you humans practise verbal deceit, yes?”
    Gorley smiled and defused the situation. “Would you care for a drink, Mr Kreller?”
    “Water, while I speak