The Spider and the Fly

by C.E. Stalbaum

  Chapter Ten

  “Feeling better?”

  Jenavian groaned as she sat up from the couch and glanced about their quarters. “How long was I out?”

  “Almost four hours,” Thexyl told her. As usual, he was a portrait of tranquility as he calmly sat reading a datapad on the chair opposite her. “The anesthesia should be working its way out of your system by now.”

  She leaned up and swore under her breath. Four hours—she’d managed to fall asleep for four fucking hours while sitting here as a captive aboard an enemy’s ship. Anesthesia or not, it was embarrassing. She’d promised herself earlier that she would wait an hour, maybe two, before exploring the ship. She had no particular interest in speaking with Foln or Markus or any of the other terrorists again, but this was a perfect opportunity to learn more about the Mire and their capabilities—especially if they were going to be leaving the ship soon. Instead of scouting out her enemy, however, she had somehow managed to pass out.

  “You should have woken me up,” Jenavian growled as she leapt to her feet. A wave of dizziness immediately washed over her, and she would have collapsed again had Thexyl not pounced forward and caught her.

  “You needed the time to recover,” he said, helping her get steady. “I realize it might be hard to accept, but with that collar on you are quite mortal.”

  She grimaced and pushed free of his grip. She might not have had access to her psychic abilities, but that didn’t mean she was helpless. She was a Spider, for fuck’s sake, a highly-trained, psychogenetically engineered tool of destruction.

  Who had apparently needed to take a little nap.

  “If it makes you feel any better, that bulkhead would have crushed the skull of a normal human,” Thexyl added as she stomped over to glare out the window. “Perhaps that will help placate your ego.”

  Jenavian whirled around to face him. “And what the hell is that supposed to mean?”

  “It means we were beaten, and you need to get over it,” he said bluntly. “I suggest we take this as an opportunity to learn more about our adversaries and be patient.”

  “What, you’re expecting me to charge out into the hallway and start shooting people?”

  “No, but I worry that losing this badly to your former partner will jeopardize your decision-making capabilities in the short term. Feel free to prove me wrong.”

  “We didn’t lose,” she insisted. “We just—”

  Jenavian stopped herself and let out a deep breath. He really was annoying sometimes, what with his brutal honesty and keen observational skills. It was like having a robot for a partner, except that with a machine she could at least program it to humor her once in a while.

  “I just want to know how he did it,” she murmured. “How the hell did he manage to get a message out to the Mire?”

  “I’ve been considering the possibilities, and I can only envision two likely scenarios,” Thexyl mused. “One, he concealed some type of device that was capable of eluding our sensors. Normally I’d dismiss that option out of hand, but given the size and potency of this ship, the Mire clearly has access to greater resources than we’d assumed. The second option is telepathic communication. He could have sent out a message on Kalifax when you had the implant’s sensitivity reduced, and then again on the Damadus when you disabled it completely.”

  Jenavian closed her eyes and resisted the urge to slam her head into the bulkhead as punishment for her own stupidity. All that time spent telling herself that she’d never give him an opportunity to escape, and then she’d handed it to him on a diamond-encrusted dish.

  That wasn’t fair, of course. She had no way of knowing that the Mire had anyone capable of receiving a telepathic transmission, and she’d legitimately needed Markus’s help both times. There was also the annoying fact that if the Golem hadn’t shown up when it did, the Dowd would have reduced them all to subatomic particles. They were captives, yes, but that was a hell of a lot better than being dead. At least now she had the chance to try and one-up Markus with an even better escape, and in the meantime she could learn everything there was to know about the Mire and their secret base. It definitely could have been worse.

  “I still want to have a look around the ship,” Jenavian said. “This might be the only chance we get to snoop around if we’re getting shipped off to their main base.”

  “Agreed,” Thexyl replied. “It might be best if I go with you, however. I’m not sure either of us should travel alone while we’re here, regardless of how much they claim they won’t harm us.”

  “I’d rather have you stay here in case they get the idea to bug the place while we’re gone. I won’t be long; I’d just like to get a better look at the ship and figure out how they built it.”

  His scales shimmered pink. “As you wish.”

  Jenavian gave herself another two minutes to run some water over her face and compose herself before stepping out into the hall. Her escort was a burly, well-armed man who seemed physically incapable of smiling, and she couldn’t help but feel a bit insulted that the Mire only deemed her worthy of a single guard. Markus had to know that none of these people would be a match for her with or without her psychic abilities. She could kill this idiot and wreak plenty of havoc before they were able to track her down. But as cathartic as a homicidal rampage might have been, it wouldn’t have accomplished anything. There was no point in trying to escape until she actually had somewhere to go, and Markus assuredly knew that.

  So instead she behaved herself and focused on memorizing every small detail of the ship as they walked. Given the mottled, ramshackle exterior of the Golem, she was surprised to note how clean and organized the interior was by comparison. The walls had all been painted a soothing white, and there weren’t any obvious signs that the bulkheads or supports had come from the guts of completely different ships. Whoever had welded all these disparate parts together had obviously made it a point to keep the innards as uniform as possible. In fact, except for one little quirk, this vessel could have easily passed for any modern-day cruiser.

  There wasn’t a single alien aboard. Not that it was surprising—the Mire legacy was built on hatred and bigotry, no matter how much Markus or anyone else tried to deny it. The Intelligence Ministry might have indulged a bit with the details now and then, but that didn’t change the fundamental truth of the matter.

  Half an hour later, after Jenavian had seen every area of the ship her escort allowed, she looped back to her quarters and met up with Thexyl again. He was still reading when the door slid open.

  “Did you find anything particularly interesting or useful?” he asked.

  “Not really,” she admitted, sighing and dropping onto the opposite chair. “They’re smart enough not to let me near anything important. I did count components from at least six different vessels, though, from an Ilonian cruiser to an old Yuhn-Xersis pleasure yacht. I wonder how many of their other ships are built like this.”

  “The ad hoc design would certainly make it more difficult for us to track down their suppliers,” Thexyl mused. “It’s a clever enough tactic, I suppose. I wonder if they acquire their weapons in much the same fashion.”

  “Weapons are a lot easier to get ahold of. The Defense Ministry doesn’t have nearly the level of control over the various arms contractors that they think they do.” Jenavian dismissed the subject with a wave of her hand. “Anyway, the crew is bigger than I thought—I’m guessing somewhere in the neighborhood of five or six hundred based on the space and living arrangements. If they pack them in tighter, potentially double that.”

  “I’m curious to see how many live on this secret base of theirs.”

  “And more importantly, how many Flies they’re hiding,” she added darkly. “At this point, though, I suppose there’s nothing left to do but wait.”

  And they did. This time she managed to stay conscious the whole duration, and she was pleasantly surprised that Markus never showed up to try and taunt her for their sudden role reversal�
��or worse, to continue preaching to her about the glory of the Mire. No one else stopped by, either, other than a guard who delivered them a pair of exceedingly bland but functional meals. For all intents and purposes, she and Thexyl could have just been normal members of the crew going about their daily business.

  But they weren’t, and after a few hours the isolation actually started to bother her. Was Markus just trying to make a point that he wasn’t interested in torturing her, or was the Mire so stupid that they didn’t fully realize the value of the information she possessed? They could have strapped her down to a table and drugged her, and with his psychic abilities he could break through her mental shields eventually. The information she possessed about Convectorate operations would be absolutely invaluable to them, and yet they continued to ignore her…almost the same way she’d ignored Markus while he’d been a prisoner.

  By the time the ship finally dropped back to sub-light speed Jenavian was on the verge of driving herself crazy, and she almost hoped a platoon of soldiers would burst in her door and try to drag her away just so she could fight something. But instead it was just one of the boring door guards, and he asked them politely if they would follow him.

  They did, and a few minutes later they were in the hangar bay standing in front of a small shuttle. Foln, Markus, Grier, and the doctor were all waiting for them.

  “You still feeling all right?” Markus asked when she got close. “Doc can take another look at you if—”

  “I’m fine,” Jenavian said, tilting her head towards the shuttle. “Is there a reason we aren’t taking the Golem? You never explained that part.”

  “Security,” Foln replied as the landing ramp slowly extended. “The more people know about something, the more likely that information is to leak out. I’m sure you understand.”

  “And here I figured you were all one big happy family,” she muttered. “You don’t even trust your own people enough to tell them where you live?”

  There were a few other soldiers in the hangar, and Jenavian made certain her voice was just loud enough for them to hear. A few comments from a prisoner—especially a Convectorate agent—weren’t going to change their minds or anything, but there was always a chance she’d help plant the first seeds of doubt.

  Foln smiled knowingly and gestured up the ramp. “There’s a difference between trust and foolishness. My people appreciate the security my discretion provides them. We have dozens of bases spread across almost as many sectors, and very few in the organization know the locations of more than one or two of them. Mirador showed us the dangers of consolidating information, and it’s a lesson we have taken to heart.”

  Jenavian stepped inside, and the others followed closely behind her. She’d assumed they would stick her and Thexyl in a back cabin while they traveled, but instead Foln gestured for her to head up to the cockpit. She leaned back against one of the rear consoles, and a few minutes later Grier maneuvered the shuttle towards the closest jump corridor and they surged away.

  “Not even putting a blindfold over my head, huh?”

  Markus chuckled. “You can memorize the coordinates if you want—they won’t be very useful where we’re going. Not once you see how we get there.”

  “If you’re planning to show off your astral drive, I’m not impressed,” she said, trying to sound as disinterested as possible. It wasn’t easy; the fact they’d been able to get one working drive on the Golem was impressive enough, but if they’d installed a second one on the shuttle… “I assume you stole them off some old, derelict ships like everything else you own.”

  He flashed his widest, most punch-worthy grin. “Nope. We built them.”

  Jenavian wasn’t sure if her cheek twitched in surprise or not, but he snickered at her reaction anyway. It took all of her self-control not to leap across the cockpit to try and choke him to death before someone shot her.

  “There are still old schematics buried in the Convectorate technological database,” Markus explained. “I brought a partial copy with me when I defected, and then a few months later we managed to slice into their system and get the rest. Sloppy, really, though I guess the Hierarchs probably assume it’s all just useless tech since no one in the galaxy can power it up.”

  “Except for you,” Thexyl said. Somehow he was managing to keep his scales a neutral gray despite how much Jenavian knew he was interested in any discussion of technology, legal or otherwise. “I assume this is how you became familiar enough with a psionic power core to charge the Damadus?”

  “Yeah, though that was obviously a lot bigger. The drive on this thing doesn’t normally cause me to black out.” Markus’s eyes flicked down to her chair’s safety belts. “Anyway, you might want to sit down.”

  Jenavian’s brow furrowed. “Your inertial dampeners are that bad?”

  Now it was Foln’s turn to chuckle. “Not at all,” the elderly man said. “But trust me: you’ll want to be seated when you see this.”

  “My knees are quivering in anticipation,” she grumbled before dropping into one of the rear seats next to Thexyl and strapping in. The viewport flickered as the shuttle returned to sub-light speed somewhere out in deep space, and one of the consoles warbled as three green lights flashed on its surface.

  “The drive is ready, my lord,” Grier reported. “At your command.”

  Foln nodded. “Proceed.”

  Considering all the buildup, Jenavian expected an abrupt lurch or at the bare minimum a solid rumble when the shuttle finally shifted, but the deck plates didn’t so much as twitch. In fact, if not for the sudden change of color outside the cockpit, she might not have noticed anything different at all. Even the view wasn’t particularly impressive—instead of staring out into an endless black void, she was now staring out at an endless red one.

  She couldn’t help but be a little disappointed. From all the descriptions she’d read about astral space in old Dominion holovids, she’d expected the transition to be a lot more…dramatic. Many of the Sarafan, particularly the early ones, had revered astral space as a divine realm. Some had even gone so far as to suggest it was the source of all conscious thought and the key to their psychic power. A handful of modern fringe religions had picked up on those themes over the years, and most considered astral space a transcendent realm of dreams, visions, or even the gods themselves.

  They were all deluded, of course, and if any of them could actually see this unimpressive crimson smear for themselves, they probably would have renounced their faith on the spot.

  “More colorful than normal space, I guess,” Jenavian commented dryly. “So how long until it drives us crazy?”

  “The Koro Effect doesn’t kick in without several days of sustained exposure,” Markus said.

  “Good to know. So, what, now we spend a few hours flying through this cloud and shift back to your amazing hidden terrorist compound?”

  She had hoped to bait a reaction out of at least some of them, but aside from Grier the rest of them just shared knowing glances and smiled.

  “Just give it a moment,” Foln said.

  Jenavian frowned and glanced back to the viewscreen. Astral travel might have been considerably faster than conventional jump drives, but it wasn’t so much faster that they could get anywhere in just a few seconds. It seemed like a rather frivolous waste of energy to shift into astral space just long enough to try and impress her—

  And then, as a distant black blot gradually took shape in the crimson mist, she finally understood.

  “Remarkable,” Thexyl breathed, his scales rippling an excited purple. “Your base is here?”

  Foln nodded, and now it was his turn to smile. “Yes.”

  Jenavian swiveled back to the window. The distant black blot gradually swelled into a massive hunk of rock, and she realized the Mire hadn’t just learned to build astral drives for their starships—they’d somehow managed to shift an entire asteroid. She shook her head in amazement. If Intelligence Minister Drathir knew how badly his peo
ple had underestimated the Mire’s capabilities, he would probably break into a murderous frenzy. The Widow would be none too happy about it, either.

  As they gradually drifted closer, her breath caught in her throat and her hands squeezed at the handles of her chair. It was even worse than she’d thought. This wasn’t just an asteroid; it was a city. And it was sitting out here, quite literally in the middle of nowhere, perfectly safe from the Convectorate, the Spiders, and anyone else who could ever want to find them.

  “Its official name is New Keledon,” Markus said, and there was no mistaking the pride in his voice. “But most of the folks who live here prefer to call it ‘Nowhere.’”

  Jenavian shook her head and tried to speak, but her mouth was so dry only a rasp came out. Thexyl, as usual, pounced on the opportunity instead.

  “How is it possible?” he whispered.

  “To be honest, I don’t completely understand the science behind it all,” Foln admitted, “but suffice to say the city employs a wide variety of shielding devices, including one that protects the inhabitants from long-term exposure to astral energies.”

  “But you never found the Damadus,” Jenavian said. “That was the only ship in the old Dominion fleet with shielding that could prevent the Koro Effect. How did you figure it out?”

  “Technically, we didn’t,” Markus told her. “You’ll understand more once we land.”

  The shuttle swept in closer to the asteroid, and the more Jenavian looked at it the less she believed it. A glance at the sensor readouts didn’t help matters. There were tens of thousands of people down there, an entire miniature society living in a different galaxy than everyone else. The Mire might not have figured out a way to dismantle the Convectorate, but they had found the perfect rabbit hole to hide in.

  From here, the settlement looked like a massive snow globe hanging inside a crimson cloud. The top half of the asteroid was protected by a shimmering, translucent barrier, and inside the city’s inhabitants busily shuffled between buildings and rocky outcroppings as they went about their daily lives. The bottom, unshielded section of the rock appeared uninhabited, though Jenavian wouldn’t have been surprised if they’d built subterranean caves to give their people even more room.

  The docking area was just as crowded. Most of the other ships were fighters and small freighters, but there were a few mid-sized warships as well. She could also make out the enormous girth of a pair of Ghallar-class transports dry-docked just off the asteroid, though according to the tac-holo they weren’t powered up.

  “All of these ships have an astral drive?” Jenavian asked, trying her best not to sound awed.

  Markus smiled anyway. “Not all, but most. Aren’t you glad you were sitting down?”

  “I was just wondering how you expected to move this many people back to normal space,” she said. “Once the Convectorate inevitably finds you, I mean.”

  “By the time that happens, they’ll have much bigger problems to worry about,” Grier said pointedly over her shoulder. “Don’t worry about that.”

  Foln pivoted around to face them. “There is something the two of you should be aware of before we land. I expect the reaction to us bringing a captive Spider into the city will be…mixed.”

  Jenavian snorted. “You mean they’ll be terrified.”

  “Some will,” he admitted. “Others will simply be cautious. But the point I wish to make is that if you behave yourself, the people here will eventually accept you just as they did Markus. If you are determined to make trouble, however, you won’t last long.”

  She cocked an eyebrow. “Is that supposed to be a threat?”

  “It is merely a statement of fact,” Foln said. “Markus believes that you can be useful to us, and I would like to believe that as well. But my tolerance for subversion is low, and the Council’s will be even less. If you bring harm to anyone in the city, you will spend the rest of your life rotting in a cell.”

  “Right,” Jenavian whispered. “Anything else?”

  “The rest you can see for yourself, I’m sure. Now, let’s head back to the landing ramp.”

  They proceeded into the aft section of the shuttle and waited for Grier to dock. The ship rocked softly as it set down on the landing pad, and a minute later Markus triggered the hatch. The air was sweet and cool, more like an actual planetary atmosphere than the typical stale, recycled garbage common on most space stations and starports. Either the inhabitants had an impressive life support system or they were hiding a lot more plants somewhere. Right now she could only make out a half a dozen trees scattered about the asteroid’s rocky surface.

  Foln led them out towards a massive rocky overhang just off the docks and the adjacent cave mouth that probably led deeper into the city. Once they’d made it about halfway, Jenavian spotted a small greeting party moving to intercept them. Dimly, she wondered how many of their faces she’d recognize from the Intelligence Ministry’s criminal database…

  But when they drew close enough for her to pick out actual details, she had to do a double take to believe what she was seeing. A pair of V’rath, a Rakashi, a Thursk…

  In other words, aliens. Aliens inside the secret fortress of human supremacists.

  Judging by their weapons and armor, the V’rath were obviously guards, but the Rakashi and Thursk were dressed in elaborate silken sashes and jewel-encrusted robes that would pass for finery anywhere in the galaxy. All four of the aliens towered over the group’s lone human member, a young woman who couldn’t have been much older than eighteen or nineteen. She looked incredibly familiar for some reason, but Jenavian couldn’t quite place her…

  “We’re pleased that you and your crew have returned safely, Lord Foln,” the Thursk said with a cultured voice and warm smile that belied his hulking, almost bear-like frame. “And these must be the new guests you mentioned in your missive.”

  “Unauthorized guests, I might add,” the Rakashi grumbled. His green, vaguely feline eyes latched onto Jenavian and the collar around her neck. “Or have you simply decided to dump your prisoners upon us now, too?”

  “This is Jenavian Vale and her associate, Thexyl,” Markus said. “In time, I think they’ll be great assets for us.”

  The human girl’s face abruptly drained of color. “Vale? You mean…?”

  “Yes,” Markus confirmed, visibly bracing himself. “She’s a Spider.”

  “What?” the Rakashi snapped.

  “It’s not what you think, Councilor,” Foln said, lifting a calming hand. “Doctor Varm’s suppression collar will keep her powers in check. There’s no cause for alarm.”

  Jenavian watched with mild amusement as the Rakashi’s face scrunched in terror—terror at the prospect of standing face-to-face with a Spider. His triangular ears flattened against his head and he glared at Foln.

  “You have brought a Convectorate Agent into our city,” he seethed through clenched fangs, “and you dare to claim there’s no cause for alarm? Your missive mentioned nothing about this!”

  “It’s all right,” the girl said, regaining some of her composure. “I’m sure Markus knows what he’s doing.”

  “All right?” the Rakashi snapped. “How can you possibly stand there and say—”

  “We will discuss the details in front of the rest of the Council shortly,” the Thursk said calmly. The gray streaks in his thick mane rippled, but otherwise his expression remained unchanged. “We’re being quite rude to our new guests, however. The distinguished Rakashi gentleman next to me is Councilor Eshkarr Revask, and the young woman to my left is Councilor Selaris Gantrell. I am High Councilor Zalix, and on behalf of the people of New Keledon, I welcome you to our sanctuary.”

  “Thank you,” Thexyl replied, and it sounded like he meant it. He glanced over to the young woman, and his scales shimmered purple with excitement—brighter than Jenavian had seen in a long time. “I beg your pardon, my lady, but if I may be so bold: are you related to Queen Anara Gantrell, the last Keledonian monarch?”
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br />   Jenavian blinked. Yes, that was it—that was why this woman looked familiar. The long blond hair, the gray eyes, the sharp features, even the blue-gold robe of office….she’d seen them all before in ancient holos from before the destruction of Keledon. This woman wasn’t just a random councilor for a hidden city; she was a descendent of the Keledonian Royal family. Possibly the last descendent, if Convectorate records were accurate…

  Selaris nodded and sighed. “Yes, she was my great grandmother, though unfortunately I never met her. May I ask how you know that?”

  “Your family has always been good to my people,” Thexyl told her. “They were instrumental in helping us rebuild Kalifax despite the objections of the other Sarafan. I only wish we had been in a better position to aid Keledon after its devastation.”

  “I’m not sure there was much left to aid,” she replied somberly. “The Tarreen were quite thorough in their assault.”

  “But someone in your family obviously survived,” Jenavian pointed out. “I’d heard rumors that Queen Anara had escaped, but the Intelligence Ministry insisted that they tracked her down and killed her some eighty years ago.”

  Selaris grunted. “The Tarreen are almost as fond of lying as they are of killing. My great-grandmother was off-planet during the initial attack. She survived and went into hiding with the remnants of our people, but it was actually my father, Davin, who established this city about thirty years ago. His hope was to create a sanctuary where humanity could rebuild and one day return to reclaim what we’d lost.”

  “Fascinating,” Thexyl breathed, the purple streaks rippling down his neck quickly picking up speed. “Would it be possible for us to meet him?”

  The girl’s entire face seemed to freeze. “No,” she whispered. “I’m afraid he’s dead.”

  “Ah,” the Kali managed. “My apologies and condolences.”

  “It’s all right,” Selaris assured him. “His legacy lives on, and that’s what he thought was most important.”

  “Indeed,” Markus agreed.

  An awkward silence settled over the group, and Jenavian glanced past them to what looked almost like a massive metal claw jutting out of the rocky wall. She could see others scattered across the city, all reaching up like giant metallic hands clasping the asteroid. They must have been the shield generators blocking out the astral energy and holding in the atmosphere, but she didn’t see any obvious power relays to support them.

  “How do you produce the energy required to sustain a place like this?” she asked. “The shields alone must take as much power as a cruiser.”

  “The grid is powered by a psionic generator at the heart of the asteroid,” Zalix told her, his mane rippling as he gestured out towards the city. “A small number of more conventional generators handle the rest of the city’s needs.”

  “So you do have Flies here, then,” Jenavian said, turning to Selaris. “Are you one of them?”

  The girl’s eyes flicked almost nervously to Foln and then back to Markus. “I suppose so, yes. My family was fortunate enough never to be afflicted with the Pandrophage, and my father gathered any others he could find to join him.”

  “Not as many as we’d like, given the efforts of you and your kin,” Foln put in. “But we have enough to provide the city power and make all of this possible. For now, at least.”

  “And Markus has helped us stay one step ahead of the Spiders,” Selaris added, looking over at him with an adoring smile. “As well as with other things.”

  Jenavian followed the girl’s eyes. “I’m sure he has.”

  “Quite remarkable,” Thexyl breathed. He’d recovered from his momentary social gaffe, and a whole spectrum of colors rippled down his neck. She couldn’t remember the last time he’d been this animated. For once she might have to be the one to remind him to stay focused. “There is something I don’t understand, however. If I recall my human history correctly, the Gantrells and the Folns were the largest rival families on Keledon for many centuries. I’m curious as to why your father would have chosen to ally with the Mire.”

  “An excellent question,” Revask said bitterly as he glared over at Foln. “One I wish he’d had time to adequately answer before his death.”

  The Kali’s head tilted to the side. “I don’t understand.”

  “It is one of many things we can discuss later,” Councilor Zalix said with a dismissive wave. “Right now the Council will need to be informed of what’s going on. I’m afraid, however, that we will have to place the two of you into custody for the time being.”

  “Is that really necessary?” Markus asked. “I figured we could stick them in one of the unoccupied apartments in the human district.”

  Revask shifted his glare. “Are you insane? You really want us to let a Spider roam freely across the city?”

  “She’ll be kept under guard, of course, and with the suppression collar she can’t access her psionic abilities.”

  “So you say,” the Rakashi seethed. “But the Council has learned to always question the word of the Mire and its operatives.”

  Jenavian snorted and glanced to Markus. “Trouble in fugitive paradise?”

  “The prison will have to do for the moment,” Zalix said diplomatically. “Markus and Lady Selaris can escort you there while I assemble the rest of the Council.”

  “I’m sure they’re assembled and stewing in their chambers already,” Foln murmured as he squinted off in the distance. “Let’s get on with it.”

  He and the other Mire members veered off to the left, and Zalix and Revask soon followed with their V’rath guards in tow.

  “There must be an interesting story behind all of this,” Selaris said as she led them in the opposite direction. “Capturing a Convectorate Spider couldn’t have been easy.”

  “There are a lot of things you need to know about,” Markus said as he reached down to his belt and pulled out one of the data crystals.

  “What is that?” Selaris asked. “Zalix didn’t share many of the details of your message; I think he wanted to wait to tell the whole Council.”

  “The secret to finally winning our freedom, I hope,” he said. “I’ll tell you all about it later.”

  She smiled coyly as she stepped forward and placed a hand on his cheek. “That won’t be necessary.” Her eyes flicked back and forth as she linked with his mind and plucked the information straight from his memories. After a few seconds her smile faded and she gasped. “The Damadus…”

  “Like I said, there are a lot of things we need to talk about,” Markus told her, gently pushing her hand away, “but with luck, maybe we’ll finally have a breakthrough soon.”

  “And then what, you start a war?” Jenavian asked. “You slaughter a bunch more civilians and hope the Dowd and Norgon don’t decide to seize the opportunity to invade?”

  He shook his head. “That’s not what’s going to happen.”

  “Yeah, of course not.”

  Selaris turned to face the other woman, her gray eyes narrowing ever so slightly. She was probably trying to read Jenavian’s mind, but it wouldn’t work. Even the Convectorate’s best neural implant—like the one she’d stuck in Markus—wasn’t sensitive enough to prevent a telepath from raising his or her mental shields, and this collar was a crude copy by comparison. For whatever reason, suppressing a psionic mind’s offensive abilities was far easier than suppressing its defensive ones; anything strong enough to completely disable psionic activity ran a high risk of inflicting permanent brain damage.

  Selaris probably didn’t know that, though, and so she was trying anyway. Distantly, Jenavian wondered how strong the Gantrell family’s psychic power was. If the Convectorate records were accurate, the royal line had produced many of the best and brightest Sarafan, but of course that was a long time ago. These Flies had probably never received any genuine training, either, though she belatedly remembered how keen Markus’s skills had been during their encounter back on Briton Chalo. This must have been where he’d been practicing
. Had he also been teaching these people? If so, that meant the Flies hiding in the city were even more dangerous than she’d imagined…

  “You seem to resent us,” Selaris said after a moment. “Markus said he used to feel the same way, but eventually he realized how evil the Convectorate truly is.”

  “I’ve heard enough recruitment speeches over the last few weeks to last a lifetime,” Jenavian told her. “So save your breath, Princess—or whatever it is you’re supposed to be.”

  The girl eyed her curiously. “You’d rather spend the rest of your life in a prison cell? That’s what most of the Council will recommend, you know. You’ll need my vote to be able to walk free.”

  “You could always give us a shuttle,” Jenavian replied. “We’ll part ways and you’ll never have to worry about us again.”

  Selaris’s face didn’t even twitch. “We could use another psychic. Markus has helped us more than we could have ever imagined. You could have a place here if you wanted it, but the Council won’t put the city or its people at risk. If you won’t cooperate, you’ll be locked away.”

  Jenavian wanted to lash out, to tell this foolish girl that sooner or later she and Thexyl would get free and inform the Widow about this place. But while idle posturing might have made her feel better in the short term, it wasn’t going to get them out of here. Their only chance of escape was to play along and bide their time. She’d never been much of an actress—Spiders were assassins and hunters, not spies—but it was a skill she was going to have to learn. Quickly.

  “I’m not with the Mire,” Jenavian said, turning to Markus. “I don’t harm civilians.”

  “The Council will be glad to hear it,” Selaris replied before he could take the bait. “But for now, please follow me. I can give you a little tour before taking you to the brig.”

  Jenavian glanced over to Thexyl. The excitement in his scales had faded and been replaced by a tempered gray. She would have loved to know what he was thinking right now, but that would have to wait.

  “Sure,” she murmured. “Lead on.”