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“I need to know what’s going on,” Darsey said with quiet intensity. She hitched herself slightly away from Amber where they sat against the dirt wall of their cell. Amber managed not to flinch at the question or the sharpness of the mind behind it. Darsey was trying to gather information and apply logic, but that was Amber’s job.
She needed to heal before she could explain anything at all.
“I can’t,” she whispered. “Not yet. The spiders did something to me. They made it hard to think. I need to fix ... fix my head.”
Darsey’s mind remained focused on Amber, but shifted to other questions. “How do you plan to heal yourself? What can I do to help?”
Amber slumped against the soft earth behind her. Soil trickled down her bare neck making her shiver and she wished she still had her coat ...
“Amber! What do we do?”
Amber started and more of the wall crumbled over her shoulders. She hunched forward, hiding her face from Darsey. The human was so rude. Shouting questions wouldn’t help ... wouldn’t help with ... with anything?
“My mind,” she blurted. “Need energy for microsurgery. A straight run through to zap, you know ... those things that tangle in the head.”
“In brain tissue? Plaques? Amber, have you got Alzheimer’s?”
“No,” Amber snapped. “Not my protein tangling. Something foreign. Just ... zap it.”
Darsey’s hand wafted closer to settle on her back, which was annoying, yet at the same time comforting. Oh, she really needed to fix her brain.
“I understand what to do,” Darsey said, “but there’s no energy source for scanning, much less excising any lesions. And I’m no doctor.”
“Pierce gave me a c-com,” Amber stuttered. It occurred to her for the first time how odd that was, but she had more important things to think about. One thing at a time. One thing ... she could do.
The com was warm on her arm, and she directed her thoughts toward it. They clicked with the device at once. Not surprising really. Pierce had always made good tech and he knew her well. The com’s responses were simple, but that was easier too.
Amber ordered a brain scan and waited.
Nothing happened.
She swallowed a vague curse and checked the com’s settings. They were hard-set and basic. She had a shield that used most of the thin band’s power, along with cell support, but that was all. It wasn’t enough. She groaned and wilted, until her forehead rested on her knees.
“Can I help?” Darsey asked.
Amber started. She wasn’t alone. How had she forgotten that? “Help? Yes, yes of course. I need to redirect power to a scan. It’s locked in protective mode.”
Darsey knelt in front of Amber and lifted Amber’s arm to study her wrist. “Well, that’s an easy reset. This is sophisticated tech, prioritized to protect you. We just need to convince it a brain scan is necessary to keep you alive. If it thinks you’ve suffered serious head trauma it will re-task to ascertain damage.”
The barbs in Amber’s chest eased a little. “That sounds painful.”
A smile lifted Darsey’s cheeks and dimples appeared. “You’d think so, wouldn’t you? Give me a frond and let me into your com. I can incept data that convinces it you were struck.”
“Ah, clever.” Amber’s left frond floated forward to meet Darsey’s. The strands touched—Amber’s soft gray to Darsey’s brilliant blue—and the human cried out.
Amber instantly pulled back, but Darsey raised a hand to stop her retreat. “No, it’s all right. I wasn’t prepared for ... grief. So much grief.” She offered a rueful smile and ducked her head. “I didn’t realize you and Nikareon ... I was stupid. I’m sorry. Let’s try again.”
Darsey’s frond made contact this time, which was good because all Amber could see was a stupid Beserk with a hole in his chest, falling away from her ... always falling ...
They linked once more. This time Darsey was ready, and her sympathy felt like balm poured into Amber’s raw heart. The relief made her flinch.
“I’m sorry,” Darsey said. “Do you need a minute?”
No. I don’t think a minute will help. Just do it.
Darsey didn’t reply, but she obeyed. Her mind darted into the com interface.
A crack came from Amber’s wrist and sparks stung her skin, but Darsey was thrown backward across the burrow. She tumbled head over heels to slam into the far wall. Dark soil slid from the ceiling to cover her.
Drak it. Pierce’s com wasn’t just protective, it was over-protective.
Amber crawled to her friend and shoveled the dirt away. “Are you well?”
Darsey pushed hair back from her face. Wavy red strands, darkened by muddy sweat, stuck to her cheeks like trails of blood. “I’m fine.”
“Are you sure? You’re very pale. More than usual.”
“Just,” Darsey panted, “my heart. That monster destroyed my com, so my pulse gets carried away sometimes. I’m good. At least your security-band believed I was kicking you in the head. Is it scanning?”
Amber closed her eyes and probed her com. It hummed quietly while building an in-depth picture of her brain. She sagged beside Darsey, until they sat slumped together. Her head ached, but the ache in her heart was worse. It was hard to move against the pain. Stupid Beserk.
Tears burned Amber’s eyes and nose. She snuffled them back and forced herself to straighten. She had to stop emotion from gnawing at her like acid. She needed her biting old-lady brain back.
There. Plaques in her brain tissue. Webs of them spread deep.
The widespread damage made Amber’s teeth snap together, grazing her tongue. How could she have missed this? How could Sparrow have missed it? She focused on the webs tangling her neurons while her finger tapped her knee. Yes, diabolical. The sabotage was carefully placed, with the worst damage hidden deep within. Any cursory scan was bound to miss it.
Amber blinked and tried to focus on the picture in her head. There were thinner strands spread more widely than the dense tangles that were deeply hidden. She looked closer still and swore. The strange new fingers were growing. Pierce had added fresh spiders to her brain, and they were working steadily.
Fixing the damage was shifting from hard to impossible, but she had to try. The webs had hurt her before, but now they were going to destroy her.
Unfortunately, Pierce’s com didn’t have enough power to heal her.
Amber’s hand strayed to her necklace. It felt as warm as ever, but only one crystal remained, and it was already partially drained.
There was no choice.
“They’re there. Webs. Lots of them. I have power.” Her hand clutched the orb around her neck so hard the metal groaned. “Enough power, but I don’t think I can do the cutting ... the ... what’s the word? Cutting. The body.”
“Surgery?” Darsey suggested.
“Yes. Can’t do surgery myself. My brain is ... bumbling.” Amber fumbled at her com, but it wouldn’t release. It sucked closer to her wrist instead and a sob of frustration escaped.
“Just project the scan to me as a holo,” Darsey suggested. “Lock it at my eye level and tether it to my hand movements, so the image rotates when necessary.”
“Yes. Of course.” Amber carefully tapped in instructions and her brain appeared in the air between them.
That was a funny thought. Laughter simmered deep in her gut, but she held it in tight. The sight of dark specks spinning more silver strands between neurons helped. The webs were growing fast. She would have died long past if this wasn’t a recent spurt.
The world slipped away and sideways in some horrible new combination of faintness and vertigo. Amber’s hands curled into claws. She had to hold on.
“It’s okay,” Darsey murmured. “I’ve got you.”
Amber’s vision cleared and she looked down. Her friend was lying. Darsey didn’t have her at all. She had Darsey. Amber’s hands were digging into her companion’s forearm. Her grip was so tight she couldn’t feel her fingers and their tips looked more white than yellow. She had to think very hard to make them relax.
Amber let go and a sigh escaped Darsey.
“Sorry,” Amber whispered. “Webs growing. Won’t last. Not long. Not as m-me.”
Darsey squeezed Amber’s shoulder very gently. “You’ve lasted this long and you’re still coherent. We can do this. Anyway, I’m taking the plaque growth as a good sign.”
Amber choked and a wild laugh almost escaped. “Good?”
“Sure. This Devourer introduced the webs a long time ago, but never ordered them to spread. Maybe, just maybe ... he’s afraid of you.”
A hoot escaped Amber. She started to laugh. And laugh. And doubled over wrapped around her aching abdomen.
“Okay,” Darsey snapped. “Time to operate.”
That was the last thing Amber heard. That and someone cackling like a maniac.