The Spider and the Fly

by C.E. Stalbaum

  ***

  “That was certainly interesting,” Thexyl commented the moment the apartment door slid shut behind him.

  “That’s one word for it,” Jenavian said as she walked over to the food processor and ordered herself a drink. “He’s even more of an idiot than I thought…or maybe just more desperate. I figured we’d have to wait at least a few weeks before we got an opportunity like this.”

  When her partner didn’t reply she glanced up from the processor. She’d wondered if he might be scanning the room for bugs again before they spoke, but instead he was just staring at her, his scales rippling black.

  “You disagree?” she asked.

  “Even if you managed to subdue him, there’s nowhere for us to go, Jen,” Thexyl said.

  “There are plenty of astral-capable ships on the docks, and according to the city’s database, the defensive turrets haven’t been powered in years. They won’t be able to shoot us down. As long as we can get that far, we have a chance.”

  “Possibly.”

  Jenavian frowned. Something in his tone just then… “What’s the problem?”

  His scales shifted to a neutral gray. “I’m considering the long-term implications of what Markus told us about the data crystals. There is a great deal to ponder.”

  “I don’t see why,” she said, pulling out the glass of water and dropping into the closest chair. “It seems simple enough: the Damadus was a hoax this whole time. People got carried away with a legend. It wouldn’t be the first time something like this has happened.”

  “I was mostly referring to the Pandrophage. Markus was right in casting doubt about its origins. There’s no way the Tarreen managed a simultaneous attack of that magnitude, and there’s similarly no explanation as to why the pathogen hasn’t mutated after all these years.”

  Jenavian shrugged. “I don’t know, what are you suggesting, then? If they didn’t pull off that attack, then what happened? Dumb luck?”

  “I have no idea, but a lack of a new hypothesis doesn’t mean we should cling to the old one. We’re missing vital information.”

  “I think maybe you are missing what’s important here,” she said pointedly. “We’re not here to pretend we’re historians; we’re here to escape and tell the Widow about this city. And Markus is about to give us that opportunity.”

  His yellow eyes locked onto hers. As usual they didn’t blink a single time, and just as usual she found it more than a little unnerving. “What if the Pandrophage is more than a biological weapon, Jen? What if it’s something else—something even the Tarreen can’t control?”

  “Like what?”

  “I don’t know,” he murmured. “That’s the problem.”

  Jenavian snorted. “Yeah, I didn’t think so. I’m not interested in idle speculation right now.”

  “You told me once that you remain loyal to the Convectorate because it is better than any alternative,” he went on, unfazed. “But what if their primary method of control isn’t what it’s supposed to be? What if there’s something else going on we aren’t aware of?”

  “Then we’ll deal with it once we figure it out,” she said, lifting the glass of water to her lips. “Until then, there’s nothing else to discuss.”

  He glanced back towards the data terminal on the wall behind them. “Out of curiosity, when you were browsing the city’s database, did you come across the Mire reports from the Alagar tram bombing?”

  Jenavian stopped mid gulp as the water turned to acid in her mouth. “No.”

  “You should look at them,” he said. “I also found reports from the mines on Praxius.”

  “Let me guess, the Mire denies that they had any intention of harming innocent people.”

  “Not precisely. They deny having any involvement with either incident whatsoever. In fact, they claim the Convectorate set up the attacks as part of a continued propaganda war against them.”

  “And you believe them?” she asked. “Tell me you’re not that gullible.”

  “In my experience, the truth often lies between extremes,” Thexyl said. “The Convectorate claims that the Mire attacked both locations in an effort to strike fear into the local population—the casualties in both locations were exclusively non-human. The Mire, naturally, denies attacking either one.” A thoughtful streak of black rippled up his neck. “Based on the similarities between the reports, I suspect what actually happened was that the Mire did in fact launch an attack in an effort to steal weapons and supplies…but the damage wasn’t nearly as extensive as the Convectorate has led us to believe. There may not have been any civilian casualties.”

  “It doesn’t matter,” Jenavian growled, finishing off the glass and slamming it down on the table. “Look, I don’t have all the answers, but I know that the Mire isn’t to be trusted. They’re terrorists and thugs; we know this. I’m not going to help them, and neither are you. Understood?”

  “Yes.” His head bobbed to the side. “Tell me, what do you think the Widow will do once she learns of this place?”

  She grunted. “I don’t know, but I can only imagine the fallout at the Intelligence Ministry. Tarreen are more temperamental than Krosians when they’re angry.”

  “And then what? Do you think they’ll send a ship here?”

  “If the astral drive schematics really are in the Convectorate’s tech database, then I’m sure the Minister of Defense will be scrambling to upgrade a cruiser or two…or maybe she already has a ship with one installed hiding somewhere just in case. Either way, I’m sure the Hierarchy will demand that all these people be recaptured.”

  “It doesn’t concern you that they might simply choose to destroy the city instead?” Thexyl asked. “Killing fifty thousand innocent people in the process?”

  Her face twitched. “They wouldn’t do that.”

  “You’re absolutely certain?”

  Jenavian glared at him. “I think you’re losing perspective here. Our duty is to escape and inform the Widow what is going on. That’s all we need to focus on.”

  “That is your duty,” he corrected. “Mine is to assist you, but that debt is long since paid.”

  She snorted and stood. “What, you’re saying you want to abandon me now? A day after we get captured?”

  “I have no interest in leaving your side, Jen,” he said, his voice as glacially calm as ever. “I merely want you to know where I stand. I will not harm innocent people, directly or indirectly.”

  “Fine,” she grumbled. “You do what you have to do, but just make sure you don’t forget who you’re dealing with here. The Gantrell family might have helped to rebuild your planet, but they sure as hell didn’t stop the Sarafan from ruining it in the first place. And I’m sure I don’t need to remind you what Foln and the Mire are capable of. You’re still an alien to them, and they’ll turn on you in a heartbeat.”

  “I am fully aware of the situation.”

  “Good, then I guess we have nothing more to talk about, do we?”

  Thexyl maintained his unblinking stare-down for a good thirty more seconds before finally turning away and standing. “I’m going to continue scouting the city and speaking with the people,” he said. “I believe the political rift here may be more pronounced than we’ve been led to believe.”

  “You do what you need to do,” Jenavian murmured, moving back over to the data terminal on the wall. “I still have plenty of reading to keep me occupied.”

  He slipped out of the room, and once the door closed behind him she clamped down on her lip hard enough to draw blood. Thexyl was probably the most rational person she’d ever met, and she couldn’t understand how he’d grown so sympathetic towards these people so quickly. He understood the danger of distractions; he understood how to avoid getting swept away by fleeting emotions. Sure, New Keledon was an impressive technological accomplishment, but it was also a haven for their enemies—enemies that had brought them here knowing full well they’d never be able to leave.

  Maybe it was because he was
n’t being watched everywhere he went, or maybe it was just because they hadn’t slapped a control collar around his neck. But he was giving these people far more credit than they deserved, and she never would have expected that from him. Hopefully he’d come around before Markus contacted them again, because if she got an opportunity to escape, she was going to take it. Even if it meant going alone.

  Wiping the blood from her lips, Jenavian activated the wall-mounted computer terminal and scowled at the screen. An instant later it projected a small, ten centimeter tall holographic assistant on the desk in front of her.

  “Welcome to the New Keledon archival database,” it said in an annoyingly cheerful voice. “May I assist you in some way?”

  “Yes,” she whispered. “Show me everything you have regarding the tram bombings on Alagar.”