Chapter Eleven
When Lord Davin Gantrell had first approached the Mire about joining their hidden society two years ago, Markus had every reason to be skeptical. After all, he’d spent the bulk of his childhood hearing about the many atrocities committed by the Sarafan in general and the Keledonian Royal Family in particular. But his experiences at Mirador had taught him not to trust anything he’d learned during his Spider indoctrination, especially when it came to damning propaganda about his own species, and so he’d gone into their initial negotiations with an open mind.
Then Davin had taken him on this same tour, and all of his doubts had been cleanly swept away.
Calling Nowhere a marvel was both trite and a grievous understatement. He could still barely wrap his head around how anyone had managed to shift an entire asteroid into astral space, let alone design the shielding grid necessary to support life. And every bit as impressive was the fact it had only taken a small handful of untrained psychic humans to do it. This city was a lasting testament to the power and resolve of the human race, and Markus could only imagine the Hierarchy’s fury if they knew of its existence.
No sanctuary could last forever, though, and hiding wasn’t a long term solution. Davin had realized that something would have to change eventually, and that revelation had ultimately driven him to reach out to Foln and the Mire in the first place. After a century of hiding, he’d believed it was finally time to make amends with his ancient familial rivals and take the battle to their real enemy. Many on the Council resented him for it, and some of his supporters had balked at the notion of allying with the hated Foln family, but Davin had been just as strong and wise as his ancestors. He’d understood what was at stake, even if the others hadn’t.
It was a shame he hadn’t lived to see the day when the Damadus’s secrets had at long last been recovered. With the data crystals in their hands, perhaps humanity’s time had finally come…or so they all wanted to hope.
“I must admit that I was surprised to find so many non-humans here,” Thexyl commented as they walked over a rocky bridge elevated over one of the residential quarters. “We assumed this would merely be another Mire base.”
Selaris smiled. “My father only brought humans with him initially—about five hundred in total—but eventually he realized that wouldn’t be enough. He knew we’d never be able to win this war on our own, and more importantly he believed that planting the seeds of a true interracial government was vital. This seemed like the natural place to start.”
“So what, you just started grabbing random aliens off the street?” Jen asked.
“Not at all,” Selaris replied as she walked over to the railing and glanced down to the families below. “Eventually my father started reaching out to the various exiles of the galaxy: prisoners of conscience, expatriates, even active resistance leaders. Given what he was offering them, he thought it would be a trivial task to convince them to join us. It wasn’t.”
“Finding people who hate the Convectorate is easy,” Markus said. “Finding people willing to risk their lives to stand against them is the hard part.”
“Yes, and naturally there was also the issue of security. He was very selective about whom he chose to share our secret with, and naturally with their agreement came a dire pact—once they came here, they could never leave. He wasn’t willing to risk the Hierarchy learning of this city’s existence. Over time, his collection of exiles and pariahs evolved its own working culture.”
Jen glanced down over the railing to a band of Neyris children playing in the streets. “And you just let these people breed?”
Markus snorted. “I know it’s hard to imagine, but normal people like to try and build their lives together. Living in fear of their government doesn’t change that.”
“Most of the children here have never left astral space,” Selaris said solemnly. “They’ve never seen a real planet, let alone grass or sunlight or natural oxygen.”
“Have you?” Thexyl asked.
A faint smile touched her lips. “Once. Father took me to see Keledon on my eighth birthday.”
“Cheery present,” Jen murmured. “Did he let you suck in some of the poisonous air, too?”
“He wanted me to witness the devastation for myself,” Selaris said. “He wanted me to see what the Tarreen had taken from us.” Her face hardened. “And to understand what we’d be fighting for one day.”
Jen glanced away from the children and lowered her eyes. “These kids haven’t done anything wrong. The Convectorate wouldn’t condemn them for their parent’s crimes—they don’t need to stay here.”
Markus grunted and shook his head. “What’s sad is I know you actually believe that. The Hierarchs only abide by their laws when it’s convenient for them.”
“It doesn’t matter anyway,” Selaris said, sighing and lifting her arms off the railing. “Letting anyone leave would be too great of a security risk. That’s why the Council won’t be happy that you’re here. They’re afraid of our secret getting out.”
“What about the Mire?” Thexyl asked. “Foln and the others seem to come and go as they please.”
“That’s a…special circumstance,” Markus said. “And we had to fight tooth and nail for it. Only a few of us are allowed to leave, and we’ve taken every precaution to ensure that this select group stays out of danger to minimize the risks.”
Jen eyed him quizzically. “Foln sent you to Briton Chalo by yourself. That doesn’t sound very cautious to me.”
“Yeah, well, you weren’t supposed to be there,” he murmured. She was right, of course, and he had no doubt that the Council would bring it up and throw it in his face later. Many of them already hated the Mire and resented this alliance, and if Markus had been handed over to the Widow and leaked the location of this base…
“Can you explain how the shielding grid works?” Thexyl asked, changing the subject as he looked up to the translucent barrier wrapping over the city. “Maintaining an atmospheric shield this size must require a tremendous amount of power, and of course there’s also the issue of the Koro Effect.”
“My family had access to top-level Dominion research,” Selaris explained. “One of our scientists eventually solved the astral exposure problem a decade or so after the war ended. It was one of the main reasons father decided to build New Keledon in the first place.”
“Ah. And what about your general power needs?”
“It would be nice if we could power everything in the city with a fusion generator or two, but unfortunately conventional technology isn’t compatible with most of our systems,” Markus said. “Still, we have enough latent psychics here to produce sufficient energy to maintain the shields, the artificial gravity, and the air. We’ve stolen enough conventional generators to handle everything else…mostly.”
Jen’s face twisted. “So that’s why you were such an expert on psi-tech.”
“I suppose. Our systems are a lot different than the ones you saw on the Damadus, though. We’ve had to build most of them from scratch.”
“So you have a bunch of psychics plugged in somewhere, then?”
“Not exactly. They’re able to take shifts. It only amounts to an hour or so every day for the majority of them.”
“It’s still an enormous sacrifice, and a lot of the others here aren’t as appreciative of it as they should be,” Selaris grumbled. “Especially not of all the work my father did to keep us all safe.”
Markus shrugged. “Maybe not, but the system works well enough. And we have bigger problems to worry about most of the time.”
Jen turned at the younger woman. “Do you have to take turns plugging in, too?”
“I recharge crystal capacitors whenever I can,” Selaris said. “Since father’s death, though, most of my time is spent with the Council.”
They passed another row of buildings and descended into what was essentially a glorified cave. A pair of heavily-armed guards stood in front of the only building down below. They
didn’t imprison many people here, but Markus had actually spent a few days in a cell himself when the Council had first heard that a former Spider would be joining them.
One of the guards followed Selaris inside and led the group past two rows of old-fashioned empty metal cells before stopping. He entered a code into a keypad on the wall, and a larger, more heavily reinforced door at the back of the room swung open.
“I will do what I can to get you nicer accommodations,” Selaris said as Jen and Thexyl stepped inside and were sealed in. “The rest of the Council might take a while to come around, though.”
“No doubt,” Jen said as she sat down on the cell’s only bench.
Selaris glanced up to Markus, and he nodded back towards the entrance. She and the guard moved back away, but he waited a moment and then leaned in closer to the cell.
“I know it’s probably pointless for me to say this,” he said, “but don’t try anything stupid.”
Jen crossed her legs and snorted. “What, you don’t trust your little collar?”
“I just want you to understand that the people in this city are innocent even by your standards. They won’t try to harm you, and they don’t deserve your scorn.”
“I’m not with the Mire,” she said bitterly. “I don’t murder innocents.”
“Why do I get the feeling that even if I showed you the records of the attacks on Ceruan and Praxius you still wouldn’t believe me? I guess Convectorate lies make you feel better than the truth.”
“And I guess you have your head so far up your ass you can’t see what these people are really like,” she countered. “Maybe you’ll figure it out before they unleash another war on the galaxy.”
Markus sighed and rubbed at his forehead. “Look, just don’t abuse this. Foln and I will try to get you a real apartment to stay in, but that’s only going to work if you cooperate.”
“I have no intention of hurting anyone that doesn’t deserve it, but you have to realize that sooner or later the Convectorate is going to find you here.”
“Maybe,” he said. “But when they do, we’ll be ready for them.”
He held his eyes on her for a few more seconds, then turned and slid out the door. He wanted to believe she wouldn’t actually hurt anyone, just like he wanted to believe that bringing her here was the right thing to do. But he also understood the consequences if he was wrong. Most of the Council already detested the Mire, and if she did try something it would be all the evidence they’d need to turn the city against them. They would lose their best allies, not to mention the only place in the galaxy where he could safely use his powers.
Foln believed that once they had the cure they wouldn’t need the Council anymore, but Markus knew better. They weren’t going to train an army of psychics overnight, and just as importantly, they weren’t going to build a real, lasting coalition of allies without starting here. If they couldn’t, then bringing down the Convectorate would only set the stage for more chaos and misery in the future. This wasn’t about resurrecting the Dominion—this was about making a better life for all sentient species.
He sighed. Whatever ultimately happened, right now all that mattered was convincing the Council to give Jen a chance. And Foln was going to need all the help with that he could get.
The Spider and the Fly Page 19
