“It is dangerous,” was not accompanied by sound from the wasp that spoke, and I guessed it was keeping its observations strictly between us.
Even armored? I thought, for the queen was wearing something that looked like a cross between the modern combat armor Mack’s marines wore, and something made of flattened circlets of metal looped together. This time, the spider said nothing, but watched, until the queen reached for the hilt of the sword at her back—and then it charged.
I don’t know what I expected—for the queen to leap out of the way, perhaps. For her to draw her sword and side-step to avoid the charge, and then attack as the massive creature passed her by. I don’t know, but it certainly wasn’t that she would continue reaching for her blade with one hand, while tilting the Blazer with the other, and firing it from her hip.
Where had she learned to do that? I wondered, as the solids ripped through the charging spider’s head and the great beast crumpled and slid to a stop before her. She continued firing, pulling her sword free, as she stepped to the side of the arach, and then she let the Blazer hang loose, and swung the sword two-handed, separating the arach’s combined head and thorax from the rest of its body.
To my surprise, the spider remained a spider. I had expected it to revert to its natural, more human, form. The wasp in my head laughed.
“Ignorant human. The spider form is its natural form, just as, when we die, we revert to our native insectoid form—the one you know as ‘wasp’.”
I blushed, feeling like I’d been caught in a faux pas, even though I hadn’t known what their race was called. Given how a lot of humans felt about wasps, it was a miracle I had found the two species living in harmony on this world.
“We have a mutual enemy,” the wasp told me, and pointed to where the queen was stepping around the corpse of her fallen foe, stripping the limbs from its body with her blade, and separating the abdomen from the rest of it.
I felt my stomach lurch, despite the ritualistic gravity of the scene, and looked away, focusing on the golden creature that spoke to me, even as it watched the gardens around its queen. I had no problem with those who hated the arach as much as I did. None at all—but the sheer butchery before me was hard to take.
“They plunder every world they come to,” the wasp said, ignoring my discomfort. “We refused to let them plunder ours. The humans we allowed to settle here overcame their fear of us when our warriors fought alongside them to save their homes. It is why a wall surrounds each of the colony’s cities. That is the land we grant them; the rest of the world is ours. They know the penalty should the treaty be broken.”
There was an odd hint of menace to those words, but I couldn’t fathom why. The wasp, for its part, watched me carefully, and I had the strangest feeling that it walked the corridors of my mind, invisible, and unstoppable, opening doors as it went. It was unnerving, but I couldn’t be sure, and I didn’t know if it would be offended if I asked it to stay the hell out of my head.
“Please stop.”
The queen’s voice drew my attention, and I looked back to where she had been dissecting her kill, only to find myself staring at her gore-covered boots and ichor-spattered armor. She bent down to look into my eyes, and, in an instant, I was falling. I pressed my hands into the earth, and pushed myself back as hard as I could, but it was no use. Her eyes formed windows to another world, and I tipped right over the sill, and into them.
I gasped, landing hard at her feet, and staring stupidly at the hand she offered to help me up with.
“Come,” she said, when I finally accepted it, and she hauled me to my feet.
I braced myself for the sting of the thorns, but did not feel them.
“You are free of the thorns,” the queen said, “but we need to talk, and you need to explain why you have come. You stink of arach, but the clan scent is unfamiliar.”
Man. If that was the case, it would be really nice to have a bath.
“You will be bathed,” the queen said. “The ravreshret is poisonous, and you have many injuries to tend.”
“I’m sorry,” I said. “I did not mean to be a pain.”
She smiled.
“We know, but, tell me, why are you here?”
That gave me pause. It was a good question. Why was I here? I truly didn’t know. Beyond the arach forcing Mack to cooperate, and then abandoning me, I had no idea, and I found myself apologizing, again.
“I’m sorry, but I don’t know.”
“Why not?”
“There was supposed to be a grab bag, with instructions. The arach insisted.”
“You work for the arach!” she sounded furious, and I couldn’t blame her, no matter how wrong she was.
Before I could tell her that I would never willingly work for the arach, she had spun me around, pushing me away from her side, and following after me with the sword. I suppose I could have fought, but I found myself on my knees, trying to explain, instead.
“I… We… They…”
Memories of the arach boarding, the arach restraining Mack, the arach demanding blood, and… I squeezed my eyes tight shut. The wasp’s blade descended, slowed—and stopped, coming to rest lightly against my throat.
“Show me!” she snapped, reaching into my head, and spinning me back to when the arach had first arrived on the ship.
She made me relive it all, from when Mack first pulled me away from the stove, to when one of the wasps came to collect me from the security station.
“Ah,” she said. “I see,” and she spun me back, out of
