The Spider and the Fly

by C.E. Stalbaum

  Chapter Sixteen

  Jenavian was on her third glass of the surprisingly palatable green mystery liquor when she caught a glimpse of an unknown figure maneuvering his way through the crowded streets towards the café where she was sitting. At first she thought it might have been Thexyl—they hadn’t spoken since their mild verbal spat two days ago—but once she got a closer look she realized the figure was too wide and too furry to be a Kali.

  She had wondered when the city’s leadership would finally get around to speaking with her again. Evidently today was the day.

  “Lejiin mixes the best Praxian brandy in the whole galaxy,” Councilor Zalix said once he reached the table. “The astral version of the galaxy, anyway, which I suppose isn’t nearly as impressive.”

  “I’m just surprised it isn’t poisonous,” Jenavian murmured. “Your people seem to think I’m toxic enough.”

  The man tilted his head and acknowledged the three concentric rows of empty tables surrounding them. “You can hardly blame them. We haven’t hidden who or what you are.”

  “I wasn’t saying I blamed them—quite the opposite, in fact.” She set her glass down and swept her eyes around the café again. She’d been here for almost thirty minutes now, and none of the aliens had been willing to make eye contact with her yet. She was used to people cowering in her presence, but typically only when she was wearing her Spider armor—or when she was asking them questions. “They should be afraid.”

  Zalix touched the back of the chair, and its hidden mechanical servos expanded the seating area to accommodate his bulky frame. “Should I?”

  Jenavian grunted and instinctively examined the nearby area for hidden bodyguards. She didn’t see any, and her own escort was still twenty meters away near the bar. Markus must have instructed him to give her plenty of space. It was an irrevocable act of trust on their part whether they realized it or not. Normally a Thursk, even an aging one like Zalix, probably didn’t merit much in the way of protection. But she was hardly some random street-side ruffian—with her martial training, she could easily snap Zalix’s thick neck before the guards could respond, just as she could have easily murdered dozens of other people she’d passed on the streets already.

  Markus obviously didn’t believe she would do that, and Zalix must not have, either. That casual arrogance was almost enough to push Jenavian over the edge and make her take the chance. Killing this man would probably throw the entire city into chaos, and it would certainly discredit Markus and the Mire. She might have been able to end this fragile alliance with a literal flick of her wrist. Given the circumstances, it was unlikely that she’d ever get a better chance to inflict more damage to the Convectorate’s enemies in a single blow. The Widow certainly wouldn’t be upset if she took it.

  “You probably could kill me,” Zalix said quietly after a moment, “but then you’d lose your chance to tell your masters about this place.”

  Jenavian felt her left cheek twitch. Thursk were almost as annoying as Kali when it came to their observational abilities and meditative rationality. Despite their ten centimeter long claws and virtually impenetrable hides, their culture had a long monastic tradition. Most Thursk eschewed violence altogether…unless the Convectorate conscripted them, of course, which happened more often than she cared to admit.

  “I may not be a psychic, but I do know how the Tarreen think,” the councilor went on, “and I can guess exactly how they instructed you.”

  “Then I wonder why you let me out of your prison,” Jenavian said. “You know how dangerous I am, and you know you won’t be able to control me forever.”

  “Markus insists we won’t have to.”

  “Markus is a fool.”

  Zalix’s mane rippled. “I imagine others in your position would be desperately trying to assuage my fears and convince me that they were trustworthy.”

  She shrugged. “I’m not much of a liar.”

  The bartender swept by to offer them a drink, but Zalix dismissed him with a casual flick of his paw. He then set his arms on the table and leaned forward.

  “Maybe not to others, but you seem to be quite adept at lying to yourself. If you really wanted to hurt us, you would have found a way to do so already. I think a part of you would rather we lock you away so you can’t betray your masters.”

  “Political exile, High Councilor, and now psychologist, too,” Jenavian sneered. “That’s quite the résumé.”

  He smiled. “I just wanted to stop by and see how you were adjusting—and ask if there was anything I could do for you.”

  “You could always take this collar off.”

  Zalix didn’t move or even blink; he just continued to stare back with an annoyingly knowing gaze. “I also wanted to tell you that I’m sorry.”

  “Sorry? Sorry for what?”

  “I’m sorry that you were captured by the Convectorate,” he told her. “And I’m sorry that you weren’t given a real childhood or a chance to choose your own future.”

  “Save your pity,” Jenavian spat. “People like me are the only reason trillions of sentient begins aren’t toiling away in Dowd slave mines or food for the Norgon. People like me are the only reason ten year-old telepaths aren’t ruining their parents’ lives or destroying whole communities.” She leaned back in her chair and grit her teeth. “Now if you don’t have anything useful to say, how about you lock me up or leave me alone?”

  “Most of the psionic potentials here were fortunate enough to be surrounded by others like them when their powers first manifest,” Zalix said distantly. “They were able to learn to control their abilities well enough to avoid capture. Lady Selaris, on the other hand…she never would have survived without this place. And without your former colleague, she might not have survived anyway.”

  Jenavian frowned, the welling of rage unexpectedly draining away. “What are you talking about?”

  “You said that people like you are the only reason young telepaths aren’t ruining their parent’s lives. From what I’ve seen, that may be true. Selaris was riddled with horrific nightmares for many years, and there were times when her father feared she might snap. But Markus taught her to control the worst of it, and he’s done the same with the other Flies. His experience has been invaluable to us, and I’m sure yours could be, too.”

  “Yeah, well, I’m not a teacher or a nanny,” she replied, slouching back in her seat. “So I guess you’re out of luck.”

  “Do you really believe the best option is for the most talented members of your species to become pawns of the Convectorate?” Zalix asked. “Markus told us what happened to the Flies you captured under the Widow’s tutelage. He said that many don’t survive the training, and most of those that do are turned into mindless drones.”

  “It’s an unfortunate necessity,” she said mechanically. “They’re too dangerous to leave alone, and they’re too powerful an asset to waste. Like I said, without the Spiders, the Dowd or the Norgon probably would have conquered the galaxy by now. The Convectorate might not be perfect, but it’s a hell of a lot better than the alternatives—including the Sarafan.”

  “Maybe,” the Thursk mused. “But I’m not willing to believe those are the only two options.”

  Jenavian shrugged. “I thought non-humans were supposed to be terrified of us. Wouldn’t you prefer it if humanity just disappeared and left everyone else alone?”

  “Would that change anything for the better?” Zalix asked. “Power can be a boon or a curse; it is not inherently one or the other. Many see humans as a threat that must be controlled, but others recognize that your people may be uniquely situated to deliver the rest of us from darkness.”

  “Did you read that off a Mire propaganda poster somewhere?” she scoffed. “Most people remember the Sarafan and aren’t jumping at the chance to relive that era.”

  “Most believe that; few actually remember. The waters of history are murkier than they appear.”

  “Right,” Jenavian muttered. “Is there a point
to all this or are you just looking for a philosophy partner?”

  “I will leave you alone if that’s what you wish,” Zalix said, his voice as maddeningly calm as when he’d first sat down. He stood and walked a meter away before swiveling his head back around. “Just remember that you could make a difference here.”

  “I told you I’m not a nanny, and I’m not interested in becoming a professional battery, either. Don’t hold your breath.”

  “I won’t,” Zalix said. “And in return, all I ask is that you do not close your eyes to our suffering.”

  With that he walked away, and Jenavian swore under her breath. She sat there glaring at her empty glass for several minutes trying to decide how drunk she wanted to get before Thexyl’s familiar silhouette appeared on the other side of the café. She really hoped he wasn’t coming over here just to pick another fight. If so, she was definitely going to need that fourth glass…

  He half-sat, half-slithered into the chair across from her, and his scales shimmered a deep blue as he examined her with his beady yellow eyes.

  “You look terrible.”

  “Thanks,” she muttered. “I’m glad to see you, too.”

  “I assume you’re still having trouble sleeping?”

  “Getting randomly shocked in the middle of the night will have that effect,” Jenavian said, idly rubbing the outside of the suppression collar. Since Kali only slept about ten hours out of every seventy or so, he hadn’t even been back to their apartment the last two nights. “I wouldn’t be surprised if Markus set the thing high on purpose just to get a little revenge.”

  “On that note, has he told you whether or not anyone accepted his idea?”

  “I haven’t heard from him. I’m assuming Zalix or one of the others shot the idea down.” She grunted. “Incidentally, you just missed the dear councilor. He was trying to guilt trip me into helping the poor little telepathic children who desperately need training.”

  “You didn’t ask him about the collar?”

  “No, it never came up,” she admitted, feeling a bit irritated with herself. She really should have taken the opportunity to try and convince him to disable the collar—it was the best escape chance they were ever likely to get. But instead she’d just sat here and hurled insults at the man to make herself feel better. Her pride was becoming quite the liability…that, or maybe Zalix was right all along and she didn’t actually want to escape.

  Jenavian growled at the thought and shoved her glass away. “Regardless, I doubt Markus will give up on it, especially if that purple crystal keeps him stumped.”

  “Probably not,” Thexyl agreed, his eyes flicking over to her escort standing in the corner. “I expected Grier to be with you again today.”

  “She must have finally decided to get some sleep. Scarface over there showed up this morning to take over.” She snorted. “I can’t decide if I should be insulted or amused by the fact they think one man would be enough to stop me if I decided to stop playing nice.”

  “As you’ve pointed out before, it’s more likely they’re banking on the fact there’s nowhere for us to go.”

  Jenavian eyed him curiously. “So it’s ‘we’ again, huh?”

  His scales shimmered an indignant blue. “It was never otherwise, Jen. I was merely stating that—”

  “Forget it, I was just teasing,” she said. One of the best things about having a Kali for a best friend, she’d long ago realized, was that he never took anything personally. “I’ve been thinking a bit about refining my earlier plan, though. You know, the one where we assault the docking bay, steal a shuttle, and magically escape without getting blown into dust?”

  She’d expected a bit of dry commentary on the continued idiocy of her idea, but instead she caught a patch of yellow crawling up his neck. He was concerned about something, maybe even a touch afraid.

  “I’ve cooled down, by the way, and I’m not actually suggesting we do that—just in case you were wondering,” Jenavian assured him. There were still times when his alien mind didn’t quite latch onto human sarcasm all that well.

  “I know,” Thexyl replied. “Unfortunately, it may prove to be less risky than staying here.”

  She frowned. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

  His eyes skimmed across the length of the café several times before returning to her. “I’ve spent the bulk of the last two days mingling with the locals during your sleep cycles.”

  “I didn’t think Kali ‘mingled,’ as a general rule.”

  “I assumed I might have an easier time speaking candidly with them than you would, for obvious reasons,” he explained. “There is a great deal of tension in this place, Jen, far more than we’ve been led to believe.”

  “I got the impression from Zalix that there’s more going on here than anyone has told us, but I didn’t get any specifics. If I had to guess, I’d assume their little collective isn’t quite the harmonious paradise they’ve made it out to be.”

  “You could say that.” His eyes again flicked to her nearby escort and then back to her. “Did you realize the Mire only allied with New Keledon two years ago?”

  “I didn’t know that, actually,” Jenavian replied, her eyes narrowing as she searched her memory. “Though now that you mention it, Revask made a snide comment about how Selaris’s father hadn’t adequately explained why he’d brought the Mire to the city before he died. That implied the alliance was recent, but I didn’t pick up on it at the time.”

  “It isn’t something most of the non-humans here remember fondly,” Thexyl said gravely. “The alliance didn’t come out of a popular vote in the Council—apparently Davin Gantrell reached out to Foln unilaterally.”

  She pursed her lips. “Well, that would explain the political tension, then. And I guess it would also explain why Grier and now Scarface over there get such nasty looks from the non-humans everywhere we go around here. This alliance was forced on them.”

  “Yes, and it’s not a gazack they could stick back in its cubby, so to speak. Once Gantrell told Foln about this city’s existence, there was no way for the Council to reject them.”

  “Because they knew the big secret,” she reasoned. “They couldn’t take the risk of Foln or his lackeys telling the Convectorate about this place. That’s one hell of a bold political move—it’s like Gantrell just pulled the chair out from underneath his opposition.”

  “And it has galvanized his enemies,” Thexyl said. “Their animosity didn’t fade with his death, and in fact it might have made the situation worse. Many of the non-humans here view Selaris as little more than a puppet for Foln.”

  “I could see that. Judging by the way she was eyeing Markus earlier, he seems to have her wrapped around his finger.”

  “Either way, the vitriol has spewed out into the streets. The people here all have reason to hate the Convectorate, but most of them dislike humans as much or more than the Tarreen. Councilor Revask has made every effort to paint Foln as a supremacist whose only goal is the resurrection of the Sarafan, and from those I’ve spoken with, it has been very successful.”

  “And here I am, a Convectorate agent he ‘recruited’ into their midst, walking around the city with a suppression collar and an escort instead of being stuffed in that cell,” Jenavian said softly. “That can’t look good for him or Selaris.”

  “I’m sure it doesn’t, but Foln undoubtedly knew that and pushed for it anyway. I believe that tells us something about him.”

  “Either the man whose family is legendary for cutthroat politics is himself an incompetent politician,” she said, “or he doesn’t care what these people think because he believes he’s about to find a cure to the Pandrophage.”

  “Which makes Revask’s characterization of him as an unsympathetic supremacist all the more reasonable,” Thexyl finished. “You see the conundrum.”

  Jenavian let out a deep breath and studied the other café patrons again. None of them had come any closer to her, but it probably wasn’t worth taking cha
nces with something like this.

  “Why don’t we continue this conversation in the apartment?” she suggested, standing. “Just in case.”

  “Probably wise.”

  They stepped out onto the streets, Scarface following about twenty meters behind them.

  “Convectorate Intelligence has painted the same exact picture of Foln for years,” she said, keeping her voice low as they walked. With all the chatter from local residents and the persistent humming of the shield grid in the background, this was probably a safer place to talk than the café. “Ruthless, cunning, and willing to do whatever it takes to bring the Sarafan back to power.”

  “It almost doesn’t matter whether that’s true or not—the danger is that many of the people here believe it. They see the Mire as a threat, and now that attention has shifted towards you. I fear that some of them may try to take matters into their own hands.”

  “You think they’d actually attack me?”

  Thexyl shrugged. “I don’t know, but some individuals are less rational than others, and it appears that Revask has been targeting the lower end of that spectrum.”

  “It sounds like he wants to cause an uprising,” she said. “Though I’m not sure what he expects to do without humans to power this city. He can hate the Mire all he wants, but without Selaris and the other Flies this place can’t exist.”

  “He might not have thought that far ahead. Or he’s pretending that he’s still at home in the Rakashi Parliament.”

  Jenavian grunted. Rakashi politics were among the most brutal in the galaxy, and she’d never met one who didn’t see life through the lens of personal status and prestige. It wouldn’t surprise her in the slightest if an exiled pariah like Revask was willing to burn the city around him so long as he could stand atop the ashes.

  They crossed beneath a massive overhang and out onto the open concourse looping around the edges of the city. From here they stood a mere fifteen meters from the boundary of the shield grid, and beyond the flickering, mostly translucent field was the omnipresent crimson mist of astral space. Traffic was light at the moment, and she angled them down the strip towards the human residential area.

  “Well, you don’t have to work very hard to convince me to be careful,” Jenavian said. “But I can’t imagine many of these people jumping at the chance to take on a Convectorate agent, especially one with an armed escort following her around.”

  “I don’t suspect they would necessarily want to harm you. They might prefer an interrogation instead. They’ll want to know your specific purpose here…especially if a certain Councilor suggests to them that you may be a part of Foln’s master plan to resurrect the Sarafan.”

  “You think a Rakashi would actually stick his neck out that far?”

  “No intelligent politician would be so foolish as to leave an obvious trail, even in a relatively closed community like this,” Thexyl clarified. “He can plant suggestions in the minds of the people here easily enough without literally telling them what to do, and in this case I think that would be more than sufficient. I just wanted you to be aware that we may be sitting on a box of overcharged pulothium cells.”

  “You may be right,” Jenavian said as a warning tingle abruptly flared at the back of her mind. “And those cells might explode sooner than you think. Notice anything strange?”

  His scales rippled a dull orange as he glanced about. “That male Krosian has been following us since we left the café. And the female Neyris joined him not long after we passed into the concourse.”

  She nodded fractionally, wishing she could stretch out with her telepathy to read their intentions without being electrocuted. “It might be worth letting Scarface know.”

  “It would,” Thexyl agreed, “except that he’s no longer with us.”

  Somehow, Jenavian managed to resist the urge to stop in her tracks and turn around. Instead she glanced up at the reflection on one of the metallic shield generators hanging on the side of the concourse walkway and scanned the area behind them. Scarface was nowhere to be seen.

  “Well, that’s exciting,” she said, a fresh surge of adrenaline shooting through her muscles. “Maybe we should just turn around and make a big scene, throw them off.”

  “Perhaps, though that could also be exactly what they want. A scene would draw even more public attention to us, especially if it were to become violent.”

  “So you think they’re just bait.”

  He shrugged. “I don’t know, but it’s certainly possible.”

  “Well, answer me this: who would use a Krosian to follow someone? They’re not exactly hard to miss.”

  “A fool,” Thexyl replied, “or someone who wants us to believe they’re a fool.”

  “Right. I think the Neyris is the real tail. She’s trying to use him as a distraction.”

  “That does imply they want us to know that we’re being followed, however,” he pointed out. “Which plays rather nicely into my bait theory.”

  Jenavian pressed her lips together in thought as they approached another intersection. A left turn would keep them on the concourse towards the residential area, a path which tended to have steady but relatively sparse traffic. A right turn would take them back underground near some of the market stalls and not overly far from the Ecclesia, an area that was always bustling. For two people who were suddenly being followed, the choice was obvious…and she suddenly understood what was going on.

  “They want us to flee underground towards security,” she reasoned. “That’s the logical place for us to go if we know we’re being followed. They must have another, bigger group waiting there for us.”

  “Clever,” Thexyl mused. “Perhaps confronting them here and now would be the best tactic, then.”

  She glanced up to the shield generator again and caught another glimpse of their two friends in the reflection. A single Neyris didn’t overly concern her, but even with all her psychogenetic enhancements and combat training a Krosian would be a serious challenge. They were nearly as strong as a V’rath but considerably faster, and even if she did manage to take one down, that by itself would send a powerful message to the people of Nowhere—namely, that she was just as dangerous as they all feared, collar or otherwise. It would play right into Revask’s little narrative, and it might even get her thrown into a cell.

  It was a tidy little trap, Jenavian had to admit. And if they didn’t figure something out quickly, being confined to the city was going to be the least of their problems.

  “No,” she said softly. “We need to avoid a fight if at all possible. We’ll stay on the concourse.

  Thexyl’s scales rippled a thoughtful blue. “I have a compromise. You stay on the concourse, and I will travel below.”

  She eyed him quizzically. “I hope you don’t think they’ll leave you alone just because you aren’t human. They know we came here together, and if they believe they can use you to get to me, then—”

  “I don’t intend to walk into their trap,” he clarified. “I will use my camouflage and double back to catch up with you. Slow your pace just enough for me to catch up.”

  Jenavian nodded and felt a bit of warmth on her cheeks. Of course he wasn’t that stupid; she knew better than to doubt him like that. She suddenly regretted having that third glass of whiskey or brandy or whatever the hell it had been.

  “Good idea. Stay out of sight unless I really need you.”

  “I will,” Thexyl promised with a bob of his head, and then he veered away. She took the left turn and made it a point to slow her pace and pretend to study the closest shield projector relay. After a few seconds she risked a furtive glance back towards the intersection and caught the Neyris woman following Thexyl down below. The Krosian, however, stayed up top.

  Jenavian couldn’t help but grimace. She really wanted to avoid skirmishing with the hulking green savage if at all possible. The last time she’d tangled with one in hand-to-hand combat she’d nearly gotten her head ripped off. Still, she had a much be
tter chance of taking him down solo than Thexyl did.

  She loitered beneath the shield grid relay for a good two minutes, wondering the whole time if the Krosian might eventually lose his patience and just charge her. But he didn’t. He busied himself in forced conversation with some passing pedestrians, and she had to give him some credit for being far more subtle than ninety percent of his kin. Of course, that also eliminated any chance that this whole idea had been cooked up by some random miscreants who’d wanted to make her life difficult. No, this was definitely planned, and whoever was pulling the strings had picked their best people to handle it.

  Eventually she sighed and started walking again, and soon enough the Krosian detached himself from his fake conversation and resumed his stalking routine. Every few minutes she seriously considered turning around and confronting him, but each time she reminded herself that there was no upside to fighting unless she had absolutely no choice.

  She continued onward, and when her shadow still hadn’t made his move by the time she started winding down the last strip to the human district, Jenavian started to wonder if she’d misread this whole thing. He was following her, but he might never have had any intention of laying an ambush. Perhaps she and Thexyl splitting up had completely thrown them off, or perhaps they were simply rerouting their ambush to her apartment.

  Either way, the most prudent option was to keep doing the unexpected, and so instead of continuing on towards her apartment, she took the upper path that would eventually lead out to the docking ring. Pedestrian traffic would be light in that area, but there would definitely be guards…and hopefully ones not on the payroll of whoever had set all this up.

  She had just made it to the outer edge of the docking ring when she caught a flicker of movement from her right, and suddenly a trio of large, burly, and generally angry-looking aliens stormed out from inside a street-side shop fifteen meters ahead. All of them were glaring at her.

  “Dreega filth,” the V’rath at the center of the pack snarled as he stepped forward. He wasn’t armed and neither was the Claggoth on his left, but the grubby-faced Credok to his right was twirling a black, cylindrical piece of metal between his hands.

  “Excuse me?” Jenavian asked, coming to a halt right in front of one of the wide metal support columns that housed a section of the power grid. Normally it would have been incredibly stupid to corner herself against a wall, but in this case it was better than being flanked by the trailing Krosian now finally closing in.

  “This is our home,” the Claggoth put in. “We will not let you destroy it.”

  She glanced around to the other nearby pedestrians, but given the rate they were scattering away it was clear she wasn’t going to be getting any assistance from them. Not that she’d expected it. She was the only human currently in view, and it wouldn’t have surprised her in the slightest if whoever had arranged this whole chase had made sure to “stall” any potentially sympathetic passers-by.

  “In case you hadn’t noticed, I haven’t tried to destroy anything,” Jenavian said, settling into a combat stance as subtly as she could manage. With her psychic powers, she could handle all four of these aliens without breaking a sweat. Without them, she was about to be torn to pieces. “I was just trying to get back to my apartment.”

  The Credok twitched, and the cylinder in his hands abruptly extended into a two meter long shockstaff. At a medium setting, the mere touch of one of its ends carried enough voltage to send a human into a seizure. At anything higher it could be lethal.

  “Foln and his lapdogs have done enough damage already,” the alien hissed. “It is time to teach them a lesson.”