Maelstrom

"Me?"

"I saw what you were playing at when we first met."

Heat spilled across Desjardins's face. "That's fantasy. I'd never do that in real life. I don't even fuck in real life."

Lubin opened one eye and assayed a trace of smile. "Don't trust yourself?"

"I've just got too much respect for women."

"Really? Seems a bit inconsistent with your choice of hobbies."

"That's normal. That's brainstem." It had been such a relief to discover that at last, to see aggression and sex sharing the same hardwired pathways through the mammalian brain— to know his secret shame was a legacy millions of years old, ubiquitous for all the denial of civilized minds. But Lubin…"As if you don't know. You get your rocks off every time you kill someone."

"Ah." Lubin's not-quite-smile didn't change. "So I'm a monster, but you're just a prisoner of your i

"I fantasize. You kill people. Sorry, you seal security breaches."

"Not always," Lubin said.

Desjardins looked away without answering. The spider ran down his leg.

"Someone got away once," said a strange soft voice behind him.

He turned. Lubin was staring into space, not moving. Even his spider had paused, as if startled by some sudden change in its substrate.

"She got away," Lubin said again. He almost sounded as though he were talking to himself. "I may have even let her."

Clarke, Desjardins realized.

"She wasn't really a breach then, of course. There was no way she'd ever make it out alive, there was no—but she did, somehow."

Lubin no longer wore the face of a passionless predator. There was something new looking out from behind those eyes, and it seemed almost…confused…

"It's a shame," he said softly. "She really deserved a fighting chance…"

"A lot of people seem to agree with you," Desjardins said.

Lubin mm'd.

"Look.." Desjardins cleared his throat. "I need some of those derms before you go."

"Derms." Lubin seemed strangely distant.

"The analog. You said a week or ten days before the Trip kicked back in, and that was three days ago—if they spot-test me in the next few days I'm screwed."

"Ah." Lubin came back to earth. "That's out of my hands now, I'm afraid. Horatio and all."

"What do you mean, it's out of your hands? I just need a few derms, for Chrissake!"

Lubin's spider skittered off under the pallet, its regimen complete. The assassin grabbed his clothes and began dressing.

"Well?" Desjardins said after a while.

Lubin pulled on his shirt and stepped out of the cube. Its skin swirled in his wake.

"Don't worry about it," he said, and didn't look back.

Anthopleura

Mug Shot

Exotics Infestation: Executive Summary (nontechnical)

DO NOT mail

DO NOT send through Haven

DO NOT copy

PURGE AFTER DECRYPT

To: Rowan, PC.

Priority: Ultra (Global PanD)

EID Code: ßehemoth

General Classification: nanobial/decomposer

Taxonomy: Formal nomenclature awaiting declassified release to Li