When Nag the basking cobra hears the careless foot of man,

He will sometimes wriggle sideways and avoid it if he can.

But his mate makes no such motion where she camps beside the trail.

For the female of the species is more deadly than the male.

Rudyard Kipling - "The Female of the Species"

The compartment was nondescript by design, a simple desk and two chairs were the entirety of its furnishings, and they were as drab as could be found. No one stumbling onto its location by accident would bother giving it a second look...which was the entire point.

The woman seated behind the desk was another matter. While her looks were striking, it was the aura surrounding her that would draw a passerby’s attention; coolly confident, with just a hint of danger to keep the riffraff at bay. A single glance was enough to convince most she was not a woman to be trifled with, and for those needing further persuasion her cynical eyes seemed to relish the opportunity.

The hatch to the compartment slid open as a man dressed as a dockworker entered and sat across from her, though his attire and demeanor were at odds. While his hands and clothing bore many stains and scars, his bearing suggested it was merely a costume, something to be used and then tossed aside. The two eyed one another before the woman spoke.

“Valerian. What have you learned?”

“Very little, I’m afraid,” he answered. “No one’s admitting to having seen her.”

“They’re lying,” the woman snapped. “She had no way to return other than Gyrfalcon. She must have docked with the ship.”

“Unless they killed her during the mission,” the man pointed out. “You have to admit, Hypatia, that’s still a possibility.”

“Samara? Ha!” The woman shook her head. “I won’t believe that until I see her corpse with my own two eyes. She may be a lot of things, but Samara is a survivor above all else.”

“Better to operate under that assumption, at least,” he agreed. “How do you wish me to proceed?”

“Interview the other mission members,” the woman told him, “starting with that Corsair, Hadad. Remind him we can take his ship, should he prove troublesome.”

“Bound to get pushback from the Admiral on that,” Valerian reminded her.

“Let him try,” she snorted. “Corsairs like our good pirate friend often operate far from the watchful gaze of their fleets, where anything can happen.” Her smile was wintry and calculating as she relayed that last tidbit.

His expression was equally icy. “I imagine the Troika already have contingency plans in place for just such an event...though I understand there was a recent incident involving some of their ships.”

Hypatia grimaced. “They’re not talking about what happened, but whatever it was it has them even more on edge than usual. Which is why we need to find Samara and learn what she knows...before they take matters into their own hands.”

A dark cloud seemed to descend on them as they both digested that bit of information. “Is that likely?” he asked.

“I don’t know,” she said quietly, “but I think we’d be fools to dismiss the possibility out of hand. If they do begin active operations against us…”

“They already have,” Valerian pointed out, “or had you forgotten the Aggaaddub attack on Freya?”

“I haven’t forgotten,” she said somewhat frostily, “but that was merely a warning by their standards, a ‘shot across the bow’, if you will. No, what I’m talking about is something far more...permanent.” Their eyes met. “Unless we find Samara, learn what she knows, and get that data to our Patrons, there is the genuine possibility we could face extinction.”

He nodded, taking that in. “And is that Jibril’s position as well?” he asked.

“Jibril hasn’t shared with me his thoughts on the matter,” Hypatia sniffed, “but our esteemed Clan Princeps is no fool. I doubt he takes the situation with any less gravity than I do.”

“Still, it would be helpful to learn where he stands,” he shrugged. “In fact, I was hoping he’d attend this meeting to share his thoughts.”

“I’m afraid you’ll just have to settle for me,” she smirked. “Jibril is far too busy to meet with Intelligence assets.”

“Busy doing what?” Valerian pressed. “Given the situation, I’d think he’d want to hear what I had to report firsthand.”

“But you have nothing to report,” she countered. “It’s my job to see that only relevant information gets passed along. As I said, he’s a busy man.”

“Placating the Troika, no doubt,” the man mused.

“I refuse to speculate on the matter,” Hypatia scowled, “and it is none of your concern. Now, do you have anything else?”

“Well, I heard a rumor down on the docks,” he smiled, “something about Gyrfalcon’s shuttle being missing when it docked.”

“Is that so?” A slasher smile appeared on her face as she leaned back in her chair. “If she took the shuttle, and we could pinpoint the location from where she departed…” Her eyes lost focus while she considered the possibilities when her guest doubled over in pain. “Are you all right, Valerian?” she asked. “Shall I call for a Knight?”

He waved off her concerns. “I’m fine,” he gasped, “just an old injury that flares up now and then.” Clenching his fists, he fought to sit back up, struggling to banish the pain from his expression.

“We can continue this meeting another time…” she began, only to leap to her feet and stumble backwards over her chair as the man’s entire body rippled, exploding in a riot of skin tones and patterns, from scales to fur to flesh and back again, until they threw off the illusion, the fluctuations collapsing as her guest stood before her, looking somewhat different from when he’d walked in.

“So much for Plan A,” Samara sighed, leaping across the desk as she grabbed the other woman by the throat, a wicked-looking dagger appearing in her hand as if by magic.

“...Samara,” the other woman hissed, in both shock and anger. “You’ve got nerve, showing your face here.”

“In fact, I wasn’t showing my face, now was I?” she smirked.

“Where’s Valerian?” she demanded. “What have you done with him?”

“Ah yes, poor Valerian. I’m afraid he suffered a rather unfortunate accident.” Hypatia’s nostrils flared in undisguised fury at the news, while Samara just smiled. “Lovely to see you again, Hypatia. We have so much to talk about.” The dagger caressed her flesh, just below the jaw.

“I have nothing to say to you,” Hypatia sneered. “You murdered Valerian and betrayed your Clan, and one day you’ll pay the price for those crimes.”

“The Clan betrayed me long before I returned the favor,” she fired back. “Now, I have some questions for you, starting with…where is Jibril?” The dagger swept upwards, digging into the tender flesh, just breaking the skin as a droplet of blood appeared and began sliding down her throat.

“I have no idea,” she said. “He doesn’t share that sort of information with me.”

“Hmm...now why don’t I believe you?” Samara chuckled. “Perhaps because your lips were moving. Now try again.” She pressed harder on the blade as a thin line of red appeared, adding new runnels of blood to the mix.

“I don’t know!” she gasped, her eyes going frantic.

Her fellow Protean sighed. “Hypatia dear, if you’re going to play act, at least put some effort into it. Oh, you’ve got the facial expressions and voice patterns down, but I’m afraid the lack of any pupil dilation coupled with an absence of Electrodermal activity leaves your performance ringing just a bit hollow.”

The look of terror disappeared just as quickly as it had materialized, replaced instead with icy fury. “You,” she snarled, “we gave you everything, and you turn and spit on us?” An ugly smile began emerging. “I’ll enjoy watching you die, Samara.”

“I’m certain you would, my dear, but I’m afraid I must disappoint you.” Her eyes grew hard. “Where. Is. Jibril? I won’t ask again.”

“Go to hell,” she spit back.

“...already been there,” Samara answered, shifting the knife in her hand to finish the job, when something in Hypatia’s eyes gave her pause. A hardened focus, a sudden crystallization, as the shapeshifter swore in realization.

“You little bitch,” she hissed, yanking the woman to her feet and interposing her body between herself and the hatch, pulling her deeper into the office. “How did you signal them? Hidden button? Voice command?”

“It doesn’t matter,” Hypatia cackled. “there’s nowhere to run. Give up while you still can.”

“Not in the cards,” she snapped, as a compact pistol appeared in her free hand, jammed into the small of her hostage’s back. “If your friends come in blazing, you’ll be the first casualty.”

“And you’ll be the second,” Hypatia riposted.

Unfortunately, that was all too likely. Letting herself get boxed in was becoming something of a dangerous habit as of late. She’d need to work on that. But sometimes you weren’t able to choose your battleground, which meant one needed to have a backup plan in place...and the ability to adapt on the fly.

Shifting gears, she pushed the other woman forward. “Time for a stroll, my dear,” she informed her, jamming the pistol hard into her ribs while the dagger disappeared back up her sleeve. “Nice and slow, and don’t get cute,” she warned as the hatch slid open. The pair stepped into the corridor, and a quick glance informed her the enemy cavalry were still en route.

Perfect.

“We’re just two friends, out and about,” she said, guiding the other woman down a side passageway. “Keep smiling, and you might even live through this.”

“You can’t escape,” Hypatia warned her. “There’s no way off this ship that’s not being locked down tight as we speak. Surrender, Samara. It’s the only way you survive what’s coming.”

The pair took another random turn, losing themselves in the warren of corridors and tunnels. “I still have a card or two left to play,” she grinned, “and besides...once I surrender, that’s the end of the game. For me, at least.” Peering around a corner, she saw frantic movement as a Security team rushed to set up a barricade, yanking Hypatia back and changing direction once more. “You’ll forgive me if I choose not to live what is likely to be a very short life trapped inside a cage.”

“Better a cage than the morgue,” she warned her. “Keep up this insanity, and that’s exactly where you’re headed.”

“More likely a cage and the morgue, but why quibble over details?” Retracing their steps Samara backtracked to a corridor intersection, this time turning right instead of left. She’d known from the start the opposition might track her down, so she’d made a few discreet arrangements before arriving aboard Chrysalis, one of the larger ships belonging to the Protean Clan. It might pale in size compared to Freya, but there was still the odd corner or two where someone clever could arrive and depart undetected.

Getting in had been easy. Getting back out again, however, was proving problematic. But considering her previous options...or rather, the lack thereof...she had no complaints.

She spotted a hatch marked “Off Limits: Authorized Personnel Only”, gaining access after waving the bracket on her wrist past the scanner. Dragging Hypatia inside, she closed and dogged the hatch, before facing her hostage.

“I’m afraid this is where we part ways, Hypatia,” she smirked. “Now that we’re out of sight, having you keep me company becomes something of a liability, I’m afraid, but I’m prepared to be generous. Tell me where Jibril is hiding, and I’ll leave you tied up somewhere you’ll be discovered. You’ll tell them everything, but that’s no concern to me since I’ll be long gone. Should you choose not to cooperate, however...then I have no incentive to keep you alive, now do I?” The smirk on her face was a statement on the perverse nature of reality, and her delight to share in the joke.

Hypatia, however, was having none of it.

“You’ll kill me no matter what I do,” she sneered. “Did you think I’d be seduced by your honeyed lies?”

“Oh dear, dear Hypatia, how little you must think of me,” Samara sighed. “Believe it or not, I’m on the side of the Angels here.” Her eyes twinkled. “Though I’m more than prepared to embrace the tactics of their counterparts.”

“Just get it over with,” she snapped. “I’m tired of your games and innuendos.”

Samara just shook her head and smiled. “Perhaps there are other ways I can convince you,” she said, tucking away the small pistol back in its hiding spot, before stepping forward. Hypatia blinked in surprise as the other woman bent down and pressed her lips to hers, kissing her deeply. Despite everything, her body responded to the assassin’s sensuous touch, even as she tried pushing her away.

She was so intent on breaking free it was several seconds before her brain registered the sensation of the slender blade being shoved into her heart.

Hypatia gasped as blood poured from her mouth, as Samara broke the kiss at last. She staggered, her hands reaching out for something, anything to keep her from falling, but there was no purchase to be found. She collapsed to her knees, her eyes wide as she stared up at her killer licking the blood from her lips, before toppling face-first onto the deck as the last few moments of life ticked away.

Samara regarded her for a moment, then bent down and wiped down the blade on her victim’s clothing before putting it away. Such a waste. There’d been no actual chance Hypatia would tell her what she wanted to know...in fact, it had been the whole reason behind her appearing to her as Valerian. But once her plan fell apart, and it forced her to improvise, she’d hoped that perhaps she’d see reason, if only to save her own life. Hadn’t expected it, of course, but still she’d hoped.

Despite what Hypatia had thought, she would have let her live, had she cooperated.

She turned and left the body where it lay. It would be many hours before someone would discover it, by which time she would be far from Chrysalis. She’d booked passage on several ships as part of her escape plan, under various identities, and after checking the time she headed for the lower docks. If she hurried, she could just make final boarding on the Fafnir...her body rippling once more as she disappeared into the maze of darkened corridors.