Arachne's Web

by Elizabeth Corrigan

  Gavin remembered what Abe had said about Archon being the weakest link. Abe was wrong, though. He and Archon had the advantage of knowing each other’s methods and signals, and he pitied the contestant paired with Abe, who didn’t seem loyal to anyone except for himself.

  “We’ve issued you uniforms, which I’m glad to see you’re all wearing. We’ve also given you backpacks you have hopefully filled with useful gear and not your favorite baby blankets.”

  As Gavin thought about his knapsack, he hoped he had prepared well. He had brought a blanket but one designed specifically to regulate temperature to compensate for the unpredictable Terpischore climate, and had also included a fire lighter, a utility knife, and a device that would temporarily short-circuit handcuffs, for when he inevitably got captured. He hoped his gear would keep him alive.

  “All right, soldiers. You won’t be hearing from me for another two weeks, unless you’re stupid enough to get yourself or your battle buddy almost killed, in which case, we’ll extract you. The code phrase for extraction is ‘The raven is down.’ Don’t say it unless you’re at death’s door, because it’s an automatic concession of defeat for both you and your battle buddy.”

  The raven is down. The raven is down. The raven is down. Gavin mentally repeated the phrase. The last thing he wanted was for him or Archon to die because they didn’t remember the exact phrase that would save them.

  “I think that’s everything you need to know, so get your backpacks together. Your survival starts now.”

  Chapter 9

  Present Day

  Look for opportunity. Take it. It’s yours. Lexi sometimes wondered if everyone’s internal monologue sounded like a self-help vid, but mostly, she was grateful hers did. Every day, she looked in the mirror and knew she was perfect, and people who didn’t feel that way about themselves were lesser beings, even if they didn’t know it.

  The city of Chora had literally hundreds of coffee shops and bars. They were needed to support the university-going population from four different worlds, after all. Lexi knew that by sheer probability, at least one singer who was performing at one of those locales was going to cancel at the last minute, and she simply needed to find that one. So she put her guitar on her back, hopped on her scooter, and drove through the city.

  No matter what vehicle she was operating, Lexi absolutely loved to drive. Her daddy only let her have the scooter at school, but at home, she had access to seven cars and three short-range spaceships. Each of them felt a little different to maneuver, and all were wonderful. She’d had so much practice, she was undoubtedly the best driver she knew.

  Lexi loved cars best, the way they hovered just off the ground and flashed their head- and taillights to signal their directions. She could drive them around the grounds of her daddy’s estate at two hundred miles per hour because she knew every curve.

  Sometimes, she felt like something was wrong with the silent, odorless vehicles people used to transport themselves around. They would be so much better, she thought, with loud engines. Maybe that was why she liked to speed around in her scooter. She could always inspire a few yelled swears from the poor schlubs who couldn’t move faster than the monotonous crawl of their slowest member. All the dopes in cars were stuck in traffic, moving an inch a minute and never getting where they were going. Lexi’s tiny, maneuverable scooter could dart between the cars. She couldn’t go as quickly as she could at home, of course, but she was fast enough.

  She had to be careful of stoplights, though not out of any sense of obligation to the safety of other drivers. When it came to traffic laws, stoplights were for lesser people who couldn’t react quickly enough to avoid crashes. But her daddy had told her if she got one single citation for running a red light, he would take the scooter away, too, and she’d be forced to walk everywhere or, worse, take public transit.

  Or she could find some people who would let her borrow their cars—not give her rides to places but let her drive. Her roommate, Bliss, had a car and seemed like a complete pushover, and that guy, Will, she had met the night before would probably let her have his car. They were welcome to come along for the ride, of course, but she needed to be at the wheel of a vehicle as much as she needed to sing.

  Thinking of singing reminded her to slow down and start scouting windows. She passed a bar advertising an open mic night for the next day and made a mental note. That would do if she couldn’t find anything better. She would stand out from the other so-called musicians who put in an appearance, but she didn’t have any interest in performing for fifteen minutes when she could sing for the entire night.

  Eventually, she found what she was looking for: a coffee shop with a lit-up poster flashing Canceled. She parked her purple scooter between two cars and pulled off her helmet, which was another insistence of her father’s. “I don’t want to see my darling girl’s head get smashed in,” he’d said, deaf to all of Lexi’s pleas that she was too skilled a driver to crash and too good-looking to deserve helmet hair. She’d conceded only because wind-blown hair was a slightly worse look for her, and because her father had spent about a thousand credits on a helmet designed not to mess up her hair.

  Lexi stepped into the coffee shop and took a look around the spot that would someday claim to have hosted her big break. The old-fashioned place had wood-accented metal chairs. Well, probably polymer and not wood. Where can you get wood these days? But damn if it’s not authentic looking. Her acoustic guitar would look much better there than somewhere with a more modern techno-metal décor.

  Her daddy had offered to buy her hundreds of electric guitars, of course, or the more common synth machines that created accompaniment to go along with vocalizations. “Accompaniment is a dead art,” he would tell her. But somehow, she felt better performing with the guitar. It gave her something to do with her hands. And it adds that something extra. Shows I’ve got actual talent instead of just the ability to hold a microphone.

  Lexi strode over to the counter of the nigh-empty shop. She would have to change that, obviously. No point singing to an empty room.

  “Can I help you?” the barista asked, already reaching to press a button on the automatic coffee machine. Lexi wrinkled her nose at his greasy hair and pimple-covered face. Can’t he afford an acne cure? Probably not, if he was working at a place like that. Well, he’ll hopefully be getting more tips tonight. Look at me, helping people.

  “I am about to save your little coffee shop from obscurity,” she said, shaking out her mane of braids behind her. “Can I talk to your manager?”

  The boy’s squinty eyes got a little wider, but they would never open enough to make him anything like attractive. Should probably be wearing enhancers of some kind because he can’t afford the surgery. Pathetic. I really am going to save this kid’s life.

  “Um. Okay. Paul?” His squeaky voice had barely enough command to summon a slightly older version of him from a tiny office to the side of the bar area.

  “What is it, Mitch?” At least the new guy’s voice was deep enough to be somewhat attractive, and he was old enough that some of his acne had cleared up. “Did you break the espresso machine again?”

  Lexi snickered inside her head. She knew she was right about the Mitch character being incompetent. She could always tell just by looking at someone how much value they would have to her. “No,” she said. “I mean, maybe.” She looked at the dirty machine. Surely something that looked as if it were about to spout poisonous mold couldn’t be functional. “I wouldn’t know. I’m here because you need a singer for tonight. Which means you need me.”

  Mitch’s eyes did that widen-almost-enough-to-not-be-squinty thing again. No doubt he expected her to be terrible and didn’t want to listen to her all night, but she didn’t feel the need to persuade him of her talents. He, like every other non-believer out there, wasn’t worth her time.

  Paul looked Lexi up and down. “Sure, why not? You have your
own equipment?”

  Lexi raised an eyebrow at him and gestured to the quite-obvious guitar on her back. She realized she was antagonizing him but didn’t really care. Though I suppose he could change his mind. “Speaker’s on the bike,” she said in conciliation.

  “Fine, you can start at seven. Be here at six thirty. Shop’s open till fourteen. You can have an hour’s break whenever you want it. That’s not a problem, is it?”

  Is he challenging me? Does he seriously expect me to balk at performing for a full quarter of a day? He probably did. Whatever. She had six hours’ worth of material. Actually, she had three times that, easily. Songs just came to her, as if she had been writing for longer than her nineteen years.

  “Not a problem.” She offered him a bared-teeth grin. I should thank him, I suppose. But no. He’s going to be thanking me for all the business he’s going to get tonight and every other night he hires me. “See you in a few hours.”

  Lexi sauntered out of the shop and hit a button on her wristpad. “Call Bliss.”

  The wristpad made a few buzzing noises, then Lexi heard a voice at the other end. “Hi, this is Bliss. I’m not available right now, but if you leave a message, I’ll—”

  She pressed another button then ordered her wristpad to call Bliss again, and she had to do so about three times before Bliss finally answered.

  “Lexi, are you okay? I’m sorry! I didn’t have my datapad with me. What do you need? I can get to your current location in—” Bliss paused, clearly checking Lexi’s location. “Twenty-five minutes. Should I call an ambulance?”

  “Oh, no. No emergency. I was just super excited and wanted to talk to you now. I have a singing gig here at seven tonight, and I need you to come.”

  “Oh, that’s sweet of you to think of me, but I—”

  “Bliss, please! It’s my first real performance! You have to be here. And bring people! I need them to ask me back.”

  “Well, I’m kind of new to college. I don’t really know anybody yet.”

  “Aren’t you from Ariadne? Aren’t like half the people at Chora from Ariadne? You must know some people!” A desperate twinge laced Lexi’s voice.

  “I suppose I know a few.”

  “Great! I’ll see you tonight, then!” And if I don’t, I am your roommate, and I can make your life very, very miserable.

  “Um. Okay.”

  Lexi laughed. “Think of it this way. All these people will get to say they saw my first performance ever when I’m an intergalactic superstar. See you then!” Lexi pressed a button on her wristpad, ending the call.

  You are forbidden from becoming famous. Do you understand me, Lexi Ibori? Forbidden. You may think you’re immortal, but I have ways to end you.

  Lexi shuddered as the dark voice came from the back of her mind. She had no idea why her self-doubt manifested in deep, male tones but had long ago decided she wasn’t going to listen to it. She was better than her fears.

  She jabbed a button on her wristpad harder than she needed to. “Call Will.”

  Apparently, the designers of this coffee shop thought if they made these chairs as uncomfortable as possible, they would have faster turnover, Bliss thought. She doubted Lexi had considered the comfort of her guests when she picked the locale.

  Bliss looked around the old-fashioned coffee shop and comforted herself with the faux wood surrounding her. She didn’t know why she found such things soothing. Her parents were height-of-fashion kind of people, and growing up, Bliss had only seen wood—sometimes even real wood—at the homes of family friends her parents mocked for poor taste. Her house had always been light-up screens and colored polymers, but wood felt like home.

  Quite a crowd had gathered at the shop, no doubt due to Lexi’s marketing. Bliss had worried she might disappoint Lexi by only calling five people—only a couple of whom had agreed to come—but she needn’t have worried. Lexi had managed to muster quite a crowd, no doubt through sheer force of personality.

  Bliss couldn’t help but think Lexi was a lot more fragile than she let on. She walked through the world with an air of absolute confidence, but she wondered how Lexi would hold up if something truly threatened her. What if she hadn’t found a coffee shop to perform in? What if the audience boos her off the backless stool that the poor acne-ridden barista put out for her? Cronos, what if she gets a cramp in her back from sitting for seven hours on that stool?

  Somehow, Bliss doubted that the world ever contradicted Lexi, though, and it wasn’t just a privilege thing. Bliss had been born with everything, and the universe gainsaid her all the time. And it hurts. Every time Roslyn acts like I’m some kind of princess who can’t understand pain, I don’t know what to do with it.

  Yet she loved Roslyn and still wanted her around, just like she wanted Will around, even though he was some kind of anti-corp socialist who liked Lexi better than her. He was probably attracted to that confidence of Lexi’s.

  “This seat taken?”

  Bliss looked up to see Will standing across from her. Judging by the warm expression in his gray eyes and the not-at-all-mocking smile on his face, she knew he had positive feelings toward her, despite their argument the night before and his quick abandonment of her for Lexi’s petulant demands.

  That’s not fair. Lexi was a bit childish, but I hadn’t been enjoying the party, either, and I’m sure my behavior could have been described as “petulant” as well.

  Bliss realized she was staring at Will. “Oh, of course not!” A giggle escaped her mouth, and she strove not to cringe. “Please, sit.”

  Will’s smile widened as he pulled out the chair. “Looking forward to the performance?”

  The same giggle permeated the air. “Oh, I suppose. I’m mostly here because Lexi needed moral support. Do you think she’s as good as she says she is?”

  Will’s gaze traveled to Bliss’s tall, dark-skinned roommate, who was tuning what had to be a real-wood acoustic guitar, probably from Old Earth. “I couldn’t imagine someone having that much confidence and being terrible.”

  Bliss took a sip of her mocha. She missed the real sugar that was readily available on Ariadne but was deemed too expensive and unhealthy on the less luxurious Orpheus. Approximations of the pure sweetener had improved over the course of even Bliss’s life, but they could never quite match the real thing.

  “So you study journalism?” Idiot. He said he did last night. Went on about it in great detail. Did you think he made that up?

  “Yeah,” Will said. “A free press is an important component of any democracy.”

  “Of course.”

  “You believe in democracy, then?” Will asked. “You don’t think the corps should rule us all?”

  “Corps and governments serve different purposes in our society,” Bliss said. “Both have their places. I’m not some kind of monster, you know.”

  “I don’t think you’re a monster. I just think—”

  Bliss was never to know what Will “just thought,” because at that moment, Lexi sat down on her stool, and Bliss lost Will’s attention.

  “Hi, I’m Lexi! Prepare to have your temperature-regulated socks knocked off, because you’re going to love what you’re about to hear.” She let loose a smile that made the room proffer slightly more enthusiastic applause than Bliss would have expected from a novice performer. Then she sang.

  “I drive too fast.

  I have no heart,

  I don’t give a damn who you are.

  I don’t cry the pain I feel.

  I just hurt till it’s not real.

  Don’t break your heart over me.”

  Well, at least she’s honest, Bliss thought. She glanced over at Will, who was staring at Lexi with rapt attention. He didn’t look as happy as the rest of the crowd, though. Something in the twist of his mouth could best be described as “wistful,” as if he knew Lexi were dying, and soon
all the glory and glamor would fade away. Or maybe he already had broken his heart over her.

  Chapter 10

  Present Day

  I wish I’d asked Detrick to do the hacking.

  Tegan O’Leary pressed a few of the blinking red and gold buttons above her head to end the transmission of her false OBI record. She was a decent hacker, had to be, in her line of work, if one could call being the minion of a woman determined to discover her heritage at any cost a line of work. Most people would have a hard time thinking of themselves as a minion, but Tegan had always been a mook through and through. Give her an order, and she would follow it. She sometimes considered allowing herself to be reborn in hopes that she would end up on Bellerophon and could join the army, but with her luck, she would end up in a Daedalus slum or an Ariadne plantation. Especially if there’s such a thing as karma. For the moment, she would work for Phedre, and maybe she would find out where they came from.

  Her current task was to take custody of Jack and Cobalt Zhao from the Ariadne authorities, which meant pretending to be OBI. Making her signal look official was easy enough, but if someone investigated, they would spot it as a fake pretty quickly. Detrick, on the other hand, had almost gotten her arrested once, not because they thought she was hacking their datasphere, but because they believed she was one of their agents. She hadn’t followed an order that came in, and they thought she had gone rogue. Maybe I should have just followed their orders and become OBI for real.

  ZimmerCorp was trusting the arrest of the diamond thieves to the local Ariadne police. A big mistake, if you ask me. No doubt they would be sending in their goons once they had any evidence, but by then, Tegan planned to have the twins in her custody and on their way to Arachne.

  She powered up the Transcendent Spirit and pressed the sequence of buttons to repeat her last call. After the sixth ring—Tegan could imagine her quarry sitting at his desk, waiting as long as possible, just to make her sweat—a dark-haired man with a smug smile on his face appeared on the screen.