Standing next to his aide in a small room full of active observation equipment, Gelly watches the central video screen. The screen shows the inside of one of the crew rooms aboard the Resurgent. The room is small. Cramped quarters for the two that would normally share it, but relatively spacious for its single unhappy occupant.

  She sits on one of the two beds, head hanging down. A tray sits on the small desk, the food on it half eaten. These and the adjacent chair are the only furnishings of the tiny room.

  "I'll need ye to make copies," Gelly says quietly, not looking up from the display. "Me Aunt'll want to see this."

  "Of course," answers Drev.

  "Good. Keep watch on us from in here. If anythin' goes wrong, I want ye to pump the room full o' sleepin' gas."

  "Aye," answers the tentacular alien.

  Gelly looks suspiciously at him but can detect no trace of mockery in his aide's posture. "Aye." He shrugs and leaves the Squiver to his task.

  On his way to the temporary holding cells, Bella joins him, walking in the same direction. Her movements are listless, slow and disinterested. Gelly slows his pace to match hers, but she doesn't even look in his direction. They walk in awkward silence for a short while before Gelly can handle it no longer.

  "Fancy seein' ye outside o' the hangar. How are ye?"

  When she turns her head to reply, her face droops in an uncharacteristic frown. "Depressed. Thought I'd take a walk."

  "Ye'll find a new tri-vee show to watch."

  "It isn't fair! Why did they cancel it?"

  Gelly laughs and slaps her on the back. "Ye still have all the episodes. I've somewhere to be, but after, let's us watch yer collection. I'll bring Nett and Drev, maybe some snacks."

  "That might be alright," grumbles Bella, but her softening expression betrays her growing interest.

  "Aye, we'll have a fine time. See ye then."

  "Yeah," she answers doubtfully, then with more force, "Yeah!"

  With what he hopes is an encouraging smile, Gelly waves and turns down a side passage. He keeps the smile on his face as he approaches the secure door. He can already smell the familiar odor, seeping through the ship's ventilation system. Shaking his head to try and banish the memories, he types in the code to open the door. He pulls a brown pill out of his belt pouch and tosses it into his mouth. Swallows the antidote, straightens his uniform, and steps through the door.

  Inside the scent is stronger. Sitting on the bunk of the sparsely furnished room is Oliva Nosstun, arms bound in magnetic shackles. She's in the same filthy uniform they captured her in, with its blood stains and smears of grease and coolant. Her crest is a mess, sticking out in random directions.

  "Come to torture me, at last?"

  Her bravado is forced. Gelly can see the way she presses her hands into the tops of her legs to hide the shaking. The way her eyes keep darting to the door, the camera, his knife.

  Smile firmly in place upon his face, Gelly draws the small blade. "That will no bring me friends back." He looks at the knife and his smile slips momentarily. There's still a blue stain on the handle.

  She sees this and grasps her legs tighter. "Well, get it over with!"

  He turns and looks at her. Oliva shakes where she sits but remains in place. Whether frozen in fear or still feigning bravado, Gelly is uncertain. Probably both, he thinks.

  He shifts his grip on the knife, and she freezes in place, eyes locked onto the short blade. The eyes widen in shock when he tosses the knife onto the bed beside her. Oliva lunges. She grabs it in both hands and backs up against the wall, legs pulled up in front of her. She points the knife at Gelly, holding it between her knees.

  Gelly sighs. "Ye feel better? I need to ask ye a few things, then me and me knife'll leave. Fair?"

  "What are you going to do with me and the others? What's going to happen to us?"

  "I'll answer yer questions, but not 'til ye've answered mine. What is that thing attached to ye? Where did it come from?"

  Enjoying this book? Seek out the original to ensure the author gets credit.

  She laughs with manic energy. Strands of her crest fall into her face. "Not my best decision, but then, you shit eaters didn't leave us much choice. Did you?" She pulls her legs up closer to her body, knife protruding protectively.

  "Who put it on ye?"

  "I'll tell you," she says, a crafty gleam entering her dark eyes. "Maybe you'll believe me. What I heard is that an alien ship, a living ship, contacted one of our vessels." She stops to inhale and Gelly interrupts.

  "Yours or ours? You mean a Navy ship."

  She nods, bedraggled crest waggling at the movement. "They met far from explored regions. There was an exchange. Some of our people went with them. They gave us one of theirs."

  "Yellow, fat with a mouth in its torso?"

  "Yellow," she confirms. "But the Coalition knows about the chieftains. It wasn't one any more than we're selberclaw."

  "But somethin' close, then?"

  "Yeah," she grunts. "This thing was short, ugly, and dumb. The others treated it like an animal."

  "What others?"

  Oliva smiles. "The others. The other aliens. The things that were part of the ship. The little creature obeyed the gibbering wall creatures and went with our teams. I saw the videos. Glad I didn't get chosen for the mission."

  The knife she holds shakes in her hands. She blinks rapidly and tightens her grip on it.

  "Take yer time. We'll have ye with us a long while yet."

  The captive ceases pointing Gelly's knife at him long enough to wipe at her face with the back of one hand.

  "You're taking us somewhere. Where?"

  Gelly grunts. "Aye. Yer friends and ye're goin' to Secondus. Me Aunty'll treat ye better'n ye deserve, knowin' her." Oliva's dirty face grows pale at the mention of the Grand Matron. "So ye know who me Aunty is?"

  "Bloody Drop," whispers Oliva. "She killed my namesake."

  "Aye, but it were her mercy let yer parents survive. And mine that ye still do," Gelly says, emphasizing his words with a scowl. "Dunc could o' spaced the lot o' ye for what ye did to his ship."

  Silence answers him. He sighs and relaxes his face and posture forcibly. "Ye can make this easier for yerself by cooperatin'."

  With an awkward, underhanded motion, Oliva hurls the knife back at Gelly. It hits the wall behind him with a clatter and falls to the floor. "Just kill me now and get it over with. I have nothing left, and when your doctors try to remove the symbiont, I'll die anyway."

  Bending to retrieve his knife, Gelly asks, "Is that what ye call it? I thought that symbionts provided somethin' to their hosts. What's that bit of yellow tumor doin' for ye?"

  She answers from within the shelter of her legs, her voice muffled. "When enough of us had them, we were going to raid a tribal colony. Try and get some of our people back."

  The revelation stuns him. Gelly stares at his captive, trying to decide if he heard her correctly. "That yellow lump'll help ye with that?"

  Oliva nods. "That's what they told our people."

  "Who?"

  "The Western Arm."

  "That's a dangerous name," Gelly warns her. "Western Arm are known terrorists, in Imperium territory."

  The warning goes unheeded. "I know. But the ruling council made its decision and the rest of us," she replies with a shrug, "have little say in the matter."

  "And who was givin' out yer orders?"

  She remains silent, seemingly reluctant to reveal the person's identity. Gelly refrains from speaking as well, in order to allow Oliva the time she needs to think through a response.

  "My uncle, Patron Nosstun," she finally answers. "After the Squivers chose your side over ours, he was responsible for seeking out new allies."

  "And he found the Western Arm, did he?" Gelly scratches at his side. "Is he the one what's keepin' yer pet chiefling safely hidden?"

  Oliva nods again. "At the Fortress."

  He doesn't know of this place. Still, his expression remains steady, unthreatening. He takes a calming breath, waiting, but Oliva says no more.

  "Can ye tell me where that's at?"

  This time she shakes her head. "I've only been once. Wasn't allowed near any kind of window or scanning device. I couldn't even use my tablet to keep in contact with my brother."

  "If ye can't tell me where, can ye answer what? What is this Fortress?"

  The cramped room doesn't provide enough space for pacing, leaving Gelly to loom over Oliva. The pent-up energy must be showing on me face, he reasons, from how she's cringin' away from me.

  "I only got to see parts of medical and the docking level. But the walk between was huge. Lots of corridors, blast armored doors. All the terminals required biosignatures."

  "Sounds important," Gelly says. "Lots o' folk wanderin' around the place?"

  "Some," she answers. "I don't really know much more. I'm not important."

  Gelly snorts. "More important than ye think. No more than one in five o' yer gang had these symbionts. Yer one o' a select few, Oliva."

  Pride flashes across her face, before bitter disappointment quickly replaces it. "And look where that got me."

  "Aye. Killin' folk ye've worked with, ate with. People who've faced dangers with ye, shared victories with ye. And it got ye here."

  "I had no choice! I had to," she argues, but she doesn't sound very confident.

  "Ye had a choice. Ye chose to side against the crew of the Cabin. Ye didn't have to; Vin didn't. Others, more children of the Coalition outcasts, chose loyalty to the Imperium." He turns his back on her, letting her think.

  Her breath comes in ragged gasps, almost sobs. Gelly can hear her shaking, the rustling of the covers as she moves.

  "But ye can still choose to help yer brother," he offers, returning his gaze to her. "Work with our people, make sure nobody else has to die. I don't want to have to kill any more of me own people," Gelly tells her.

  He can barely make out her answer, choked out between gulps of air. "What do I have to do?"

  "Nothin', lass," he answers her gently. "We will no make ye do anythin', lest ye want to. But our doctors will want to take scans, ask ye questions. Will ye help us?"

  Wracked with guilt, fear, and regret, Oliva is unable to answer.

  "That's alright," Gelly offers. "I'll leave ye to think. I've two more to talk to, yet."

  He leaves her alone in the small room, with only her hopes and doubts for company. On the walk to his next appointment, he hopes that she makes the right decision.