Chapter 7
"No," Terla replied, smirking. "I'll give you the short version of what I gave Beka. I am a shapeshifter, my name is Terla, and I'm going to kill you." She smiled. "I believe the form I am wearing has some significance for you? Maybe I'll wear it when I kill your captain." Terla appeared to think for a moment, then smiled. "No, this form betrayed your Captain three hundred and more years ago. Perhaps it is fitting..." Terla began morphing again. "... If I wear your form instead."
Telemachus looked at the shapeshifter wearing his face and smiled, preparing to meet the assault head on.
Then the shapeshifter's eyes widened in surprise, then crossed as it fell face-forward to the deck, revealing Beka standing behind it with a crowbar. "Spell wore off while it was talking," Beka explained, dropping the crowbar on top of the limp form, which had resumed its smooth gray skin.
"Spell?" Telemachus asked, looking at Beka oddly.
Beka shook her head. "Don't ask."
"So... everything that happened," Telemachus said slowly. "It wasn't actually you."
Beka shook her head and gestured toward the now blank wall where the magical viewscreen had been. "All I did was watch."
Telemachus bit his tongue to keep from asking the question he really wanted answered and instead asked; "So what do we do with... it."
Beka shrugged. "Bring it to Dylan?"
Telemachus nodded his agreement, lifting the unconscious form into a fireman's carry while Beka retrieved her forcelance.