Camouflage

—45—

Russell knew he wasn’t the only one in passionate pursuit of the alien. But he didn’t know that his competition was more formidable than the CIA agents who were just now becoming interested in Sharon.

The chameleon had been in and out of Apia ever since he knew they had a vehicle from another planet. If there was anybody else like him on Earth, he would be drawn here, too.

The changeling also had spent much of its human life looking for another changeling. It saw the meeting as a kind of reunion— “together again for the first time.” They could sit down and talk, and perhaps together solve the mystery of their origin.

The chameleon, on the other hand, was not interested in mysteries. He was interested in eliminating competition.

He wasn’t stupid. Over the millennia he had often attained his culture’s highest degree of education. He knew that his desire to destroy the competition was not rational. But it was programmed into every cell of his body; it was what he had instead of the urge to reproduce. And sexual desire was a pale flame beside his passion to destroy, to protect himself.

On his own terms it was easy to rationalize: if the creature was like him, their first meeting would be short and brutal. Best strike first. No human could kill him, but no human knew how profoundly damaged he would have to be in order to actually die.

He did know and had to presume his competitor would as well.