Chapter Twenty-Two
For the span of a dozen heartbeats, Jenavian stood in place, staring unblinkingly at her companion. If Thexyl were anyone else, she would have assumed he was joking, but Kali weren’t known for their overly developed senses of humor—or any sense of humor at all, for that matter. And judging from the nervous glint in his eyes, not to mention the mix of frightened yellow and anxious orange frantically rippling across his scales, she could tell he meant every word.
“What are you talking about?” she asked.
“As I said, while you were uploading your memories to the network, I accessed the Intelligence Ministry’s database and searched for any references on Sarafan data crystals,” Thexyl said. “Unsurprisingly, I found very little, and nothing we didn’t already know. I then redirected my efforts to the medical database for information on the Pandrophage itself. The results were the same. Almost everything about the disease is classified.”
Jenavian shrugged and took a step forward. “That’s hardly surprising. We’ve always known how much the Hierarchs like their secrets.”
“I wasn’t expecting to find anything in the official records, but I wanted to be thorough. I expanded the search into each individual ministry’s records, and even with your Spider access codes I couldn’t find anything relevant.”
“You’d have to look into the Hierarchy’s private database, and Spider clearance won’t be enough to get you in there. I’m not sure even Minister Drathir could.”
“Perhaps not,” Thexyl murmured. “But in any event, while I was running the queries I remembered something Markus had said back on New Keledon while we were discussing the other data crystals. He mentioned that the Tarreen couldn’t possibly have coordinated a simultaneous infection in so many systems. He then noted that even the Spiders and their telepathy would have had difficulty managing such a well-timed attack.”
“I remember. How is that relevant?”
“I speculated that the Tarreen must have had access to some type of unique delivery system—something beyond simple water supply or atmospheric contamination. I decided to put those two theories together and do some research.”
Jenavian shook her head. “I’m still not following.”
His head bobbed to the side, and a meditative ripple of black crawled up his neck. “Technologically speaking, the Dominion is known historically for three particular inventions: the astral drive, the psionic power core, and instantaneous, galaxy-wide communications. The third is what is important here. There’s only one way a disease could have possibly reached thousands of Sarafan spread across hundreds of systems at the same time—the same way they were able to communicate with one another across such vast distances.”
“Telepathy,” she breathed, a whole host of new possibilities suddenly taking shape in the back of her mind. “You’re saying the Pandrophage is some type of…telepathic virus?”
“I’m not sure ‘virus’ is the correct term given that it obviously couldn’t be a biological pathogen, but in principle, yes. Somehow the affliction was ‘uploaded’ into the Sarafan’s telepathic network, instantly infecting thousands of psychics spread across the galaxy. And the moment that happened, the entire Dominion was irrevocably crippled. All their planetary defense systems, all their fleets, almost all their technology in general was completely powered by psionic networks. The Tarreen merely had to time an invasion during the chaos and their conquest was inevitable.”
“That would explain how the war progressed so quickly—and why no one has ever been able to identify the specific pathogen with conventional medical scans, for that matter,” Jenavian said, chewing on her bottom lip in thought. “But I don’t see how it’s even possible to create a telepathic affliction. That seems….far-fetched, to say the least.”
“I’m no expert on psionics, but human brains—or the brains of any sentient being—aren’t all that different from computers when you get right down to it,” Thexyl said. “You have the power to alter someone’s memory or even reprogram them to act as you choose. A virus may simply be an extension of those techniques.”
“You make it sound easy.”
“Not at all. I’m only suggesting that it’s possible.”
Jenavian sighed and paced to the other side of the room. “Okay, let’s assume you’re right. Does the disease still linger on today like a biological pathogen would? If not, how can you explain how Flies like myself were born immune to it?”
“I think it’s more likely that the disease was a one-time attack rather than a lasting malady,” Thexyl speculated. “In essence, the Sarafan leadership was disabled long enough for the Tarreen to wipe them out. The entire ‘disease’ label was likely manufactured later by the Convectorate as a means of asserting control over a massive, disparate population of terrified beings. After all, convincing the galactic community that they’d created a supervirus to control the hated humans would go a long way in garnering support, not to mention prevent future rebellions.”
“All right, but that still doesn’t explain the Flies. How could I have been born immune to a disease that didn’t exist?”
“I think the answer to that is simple: you weren’t.”
She blinked. “What?”
“A more likely scenario is that only a scant few of your people ever actually possessed psionic potential. We’ve always assumed that nearly all humans from the Sarafan era were endowed with telepathic abilities, but there’s no proof.”
“Because the Hierarchy has spent a century wiping out all records of Dominion history.”
“Yes, which has in turn allowed them to fabricate their own version of events,” Thexyl said. “It’s quite clever, really. Functionally speaking, there’s little difference in whether a few humans are born with psychic potential or a few humans are born immune to a disease—in both cases, you’re looking at a very small population of psionic adepts. But the latter story allowed the Convectorate to fashion an entire mythos around a genetically-engineered supervirus.”
“Making the Tarreen the heroes of galactic history,” Jenavian murmured, shaking her head in disgust. “All right, I follow you so far, but there’s a pretty significant gap in your theory: the Tarreen don’t have any psychics. How could they have infected the Sarafan in the first place?”
“The answer to that is likely the same as the rest: they didn’t.”
“Then who—?” Her voice trailed off as a cold tingle abruptly worked its way down her spine. “The rogue Sarafan.”
“Yes,” Thexyl confirmed. “We know that there was a faction within the Sarafan who’d grown discontent with the way the Dominion had begun to ‘soften,’ as it were. They felt their dominance slipping away and decided to act upon it. Of course, I don’t see how handing the galaxy to the Tarreen would improve their situation.”
Jenavian paced over to the closest wall and braced herself against it. “Maybe they didn’t.”
The Kali’s entire body shimmered blue. “Pardon?”
“Minister Drathir is here because he believes the Spider Program is too autonomous,” she told him. “He doesn’t think the Minister’s Conclave or the Hierarchy have any real idea what the Widow is capable of. Somehow she’s managed to shield this entire operation from Convectorate oversight. Doesn’t that seem odd to you?”
“It certainly doesn’t fit the normal pattern of Tarreen behavior,” Thexyl said. “In human parlance, I believe they could be described as ‘control freaks.’”
“Control freaks who’ve allowed a single human woman to run her own private little empire on the fringes of the galaxy for over five decades,” Jenavian added. “Why would the Hierarchy possibly allow that?”
“A good point, but as you’ve often reminded me over the years, the Spiders are imperative to the Convectorate’s survival. Military might alone isn’t enough to maintain control over an empire so vast.”
“True, but do you really think they’d leave a human in charge of something so important? They despise my people. T
hey decimated our home world and drove us off almost every one of our colonies. It’s a wonder they didn’t just wipe us out wholesale.”
“What are you suggesting, precisely?” Thexyl asked. “That the Hierarchy is somehow unaware of the Spiders?”
“No,” she said, taking in a deep breath. “What I’m suggesting is that maybe this rogue group of Sarafan didn’t die out like everyone thinks they did. What if they’re the ones who created the Spider Program in the first place?”
“An intriguing theory,” he mused, a splotch of meditative black shimmering across his neck. “Very intriguing, in fact.”
“It’s the logical extension to your own theory, isn’t it?” Jenavian asked. “If the Pandrophage doesn’t exist, at least not in a persistent biological form, then what purpose do the Spiders serve? We’re not out in the galaxy capturing dangerous Flies who could bring down the Convectorate—we’re gathering potential psychics.”
“Or in other words, potential Sarafan,” Thexyl reasoned. “So you believe the Widow wishes to rebuild?”
“It seems that way. Think about it: if these rogue Sarafan were convinced that their order had become ‘impure,” this would give them a clean slate. They could rebuild the Dominion in the shadows without anyone in the galaxy being the wiser. I’ve been here since I was eight years old, and other than the occasional odd mumbling about the Hierarchy here and there, we’ve always been completely independent. Drathir is the first Tarreen I’ve seen on the Nidus in a decade. No one outside of the Widow has any idea what is really going on at this base.”
“That does still beg the question of the Hierarchy’s role in all of this. I find it highly unlikely that the Tarreen would go along with such a plan willingly.”
Jenavian shrugged. “Maybe they made a deal with the devil, so to speak. Before the war, they’d been exiled into a dark corner of the galaxy for what, two centuries? They were probably desperate to return and claim what they felt was theirs, but they had no chance of defeating the Dominion on their own. So they forged an alliance with these rogue Sarafan, and in exchange for being handed the galaxy on a platter, all they had to do was create a little covert program like this for the remaining psychics to gather. It’s really not a bad deal.”
“Then what happened to the Sarafan after the war? They might have wanted a clean slate, but I can’t imagine them being content with life in the shadows forever. The Widow appears to control everything herself. Where have the rest gone? And how is she related to the others?”
“I don’t have an answer to any of that,” Jenavian conceded. “Maybe the Tarreen didn’t keep up their end of the bargain and wiped them out. Maybe the Widow is their last disciple, trying desperately to rebuild what they’ve lost. I don’t know. We still need more information, but we’re definitely onto something here.”
“I’m inclined to agree,” Thexyl said. “And of course, there’s also the central mystery of that last data crystal. The Widow clearly wanted it, and if our theory holds, it has to be something besides the cure to the Pandrophage.”
A heavy silence settled across the room as they madly tried to digest everything. If all of this was true—hell, if even a fraction of it was true—then they were quite literally staring a hundred years of false history in the face. And Jenavian had absolutely no idea what they were going to do about it.
Unexpectedly, her thoughts shifted to Markus, and her stomach suddenly twisted into knots. For a few minutes there she’d actually managed to forget that she’d delivered the man she’d grown up with—the man who’d risked his life to rescue her from probable execution—right to the Widow’s doorstep. Just like how she’d managed to forget that she’d effectively signed the death warrant on fifty thousand people.
Jenavian closed her eyes and forced herself to breathe. Right now all that mattered was figuring out exactly what was going on here, and like it or not, there was only one way she was going be able to do that.
“We have to figure out what’s on that crystal,” she said into the silence.
“How do you propose we do that?”
“There’s really only one option. I’m going to ask.”
For the first time in recent memory, Thexyl actually stuttered. “You’re serious?”
“The Widow obviously knows. Maybe she’ll be willing to tell me.”
“Or she’ll punish you for asking,” he said. “I can only assume there’s a good reason why she never told you or the others.”
“Probably, but can you think of another way to find out?”
A twinge of yellow rippled across his neck. “No.”
“Then I guess that settles it. Maybe I’ll be lucky and catch her in the middle of a nap. I could just try to access the crystal myself.”
“Jen.”
She opened her eyes and turned back to him. “What?”
For an instant, it seemed like he was going to say something, but then his mouth closed and the yellow twinge spread across the rest of his body. Finally he seemed to gather himself, and he stood and placed a cold hand on her shoulder.
“Be careful.”
“I will,” Jenavian promised, returning the gesture. “Just stay put. I’ll be back soon.”
The Spider and the Fly Page 43
