Widow reflexes respond, but again there is nothing to see.
“It’s hungry, maybe,” suggests the voice, directly above her. She cocks her head, but her nearly spherical field of view reveals nothing. Even in infrared nothing stands out; despite the cooling day, everything around her is nearly the same temperature.
“It doesn’t seem to be eating Me, though,” it muses.
Shenya represses a shudder. Eat a thing like this! No, she does not understand how the Librarian does it.
“Excuse Me,” says the voice from somewhere behind her. She cranes her head in a slow half circle but sees nothing. This invisibility is beginning to annoy her.
“If I come out will You promise not to kill Me again?” it says from ahead and to her left.
“I just feel like that’s starting off on the wrong foot,” it says from above.
“Or blade, if You prefer.”
“You’ll be perfectly safe.”
A few seconds ago Shenya would have laughed at the thought of danger from these miniature creatures…but the question has come from more directions than she can easily count. She stands slowly, withdrawing her blades from the rapidly draining body beneath her. Their edges, she notes with satisfaction, are still in perfect condition. This thing’s bones are nearly as soft as its disgusting flesh.
“You have to say it,” says the voice. “You have to say, I promise not to kill You anymore.”
[Just say it], begs Shokyu the Mighty. [We don’t have to die here, unless this is a stupid Widow honor thing.]
Shenya the Widow sends out one last ping, which shows her nothing. “Fine,” she snaps in Standard. It annoys her to speak anything at all, but one does what one must when one is lightyears from the Network. “I pledge not to kill You anymore…today.” It seems sensible to place parameters on the oath.
A rush of expelled breath comes from eight different directions. “I appreciate it,” says the small figure that has just stepped out from behind a tree. It blinks its golden eyes, the muscles in its face working overtime to push different parts into different configurations. So much effort, and it only makes the thing more hideous. “So anyway,” says its voice in a conversational tone. “What was I saying?”
It takes her a moment to realize that the figure in front of her isn’t moving its mouth—it is simply watching her with those gold eyes—but of course the voice is now coming from behind her. She checks herself mid-whirl, lowering her blades as if that were her plan all along. There is an identical individual behind her, which now makes four if she counts the two she just killed.
[Spooky], says Shokyu the Mighty, sounding much perkier.
[When I desire your opinion on a matter], says Shenya the Widow internally, [I shall ask for it]. Externally, she composes herself. “You were claiming this…discovery,” she says out loud, after an embarrassing length of time hunting for the right Standard word. It has been a while since she has spoken aloud.
“Of course,” says a voice above her, from the trees.
“Yes, congratulations on that!” says another. “You are now the second person in the galaxy to know My secret.”
[A secret?] says Shokyu the Mighty. [That sounds promising. Or profitable, if you prefer.]
“You are a person, are you not?” asks one more small figure who has just strolled around her tree, upper limbs behind its back. It leans forward to examine her with its gold eyes.
[It wants to know if you’re high-tier], says Shokyu the Mighty. [Or a group mind. Or both, maybe.]
[You certainly have a talent for stating the obvious], says Shenya the Widow. Outwardly, she has already swept into the act that has made Shenya the Widow famous corporation-wide. “Of course I am a person,” she says smoothly.
“Of course It’s a person!” says a chorus of the same voice.
“No offense intended,” says the one in the tree above her.
“You just can’t assume, in this day and age.”
“So many species zipping around,” says another, demonstrating by running through the leaves with its arms out. “One can’t keep track of who’s become a person and who hasn’t.”
Strange sounds are now emerging from all around Shenya the Widow, as this creature displays its displeasure from every body it has available.
[Nice job], says Shokyu the Mighty. [You’ve got Him.]
“Yes,” says Shenya the Widow, turning slowly to keep as many bodies in sight as possible. “It is quite…disgraceful.”
“Anyway!” says the nearest individual. “My name, rendered down into primitive mouth noises, is Observer.”