Chapter 21: Involuntary Spies

Cass springs forward, slipping into an elevator alongside wealthy tourists seeking thrills. Destination: The Abyss, first basement level. The elevator is pulled by an inertial grapple, speeding madly between floors without the sensation of acceleration. They pass the surface, and through the walls, an infinite mosaic of purple cubes of all sizes flashes by.

During the descent, Cass feels a bad premonition—an intuition. Normally, Waus don’t experience intuition: they have clear ideas. She hadn’t felt such an intuition gnawing at the back of her neck for years. Yet here it was. What was happening?

The elevator opens onto a street with a dome-shaped, blasphemous ceiling, lit by immortal neon lights, offering all kinds of services. Human guides and drones swarm the tourists, offering an almost risk-free direct route into the True Abyss. At the entrance, an Empty-Eyes guard stands watch: his psi-brooch and white eyes indicate that using psi power for proxy murders wouldn’t be tolerated. Empty-Eyes are rarely assigned as killer-trackers; this one must be an Alpha or a Beta, Cass thinks as she approaches the Last Bastion, the large, popular nightclub on level minus one.

The Last Bastion rises over four floors, extending up into the ceiling to accommodate its roof. Spotlights underline its symmetrical structure—a blend of French château and military fortress. No entrance control here: anything goes. There’s only one rule, displayed on a black-gold sign: “You’re free to do whatever you want, so are we. Think before messing around. Signed: Management.”

Alcohol, drugs, and all kinds of sexual experiences are freely available. However, the entrance simply leads onto a dance floor that’s already crowded. In the Abyss, there are no hours.

Cass orders a nebula alcohol, raspberry-flavored, out of habit, appearing natural, and picks up her glass. Turning back toward the smoky atmosphere filled with hookahs and vapors, lasers outlining dancers, loud music, and Xenos, she inventories the humans present. A couple flirts with a Xeno of the Light People, clearly intent on heading upstairs to the fourth floor. A group of wealthy students from Earth is drinking heavily, seeking courage to venture into the True Abyss.

A small creature with large child-like eyes approaches Cass. It’s silver-colored, almost liquid, with a shifting number of limbs but striving to remain humanoid. In a human dialect full of gurgles, it reaches out a hand, saying: “For a thaler, I’ll predict your future, because I’m a Transient’s child.” Cass takes a luminous thaler out of her pocket.

The “Transient’s child” declares in a high voice:

“Today you’ll meet someone immortal.”

“Your father? Go, Transient’s child, and be careful.”

Xenos don’t lie, except when they do. And when they lie, it’s nearly their only way of communicating.

Cass resumes scanning the humans. A couple of men are here for a safari. They’re determined not to return to the surface without having killed something—or someone. A corrupt Psi sells his services from a corner. There’s someone interesting: a female collector from Earth, accompanied by a bodyguard. A genuinely evil person disguised as a bourgeois woman with silver hair on holiday. She collects Xeno corpses, having them hunted in the Abyss, embalmed, and exhibited in a mansion in Geneva. A good candidate.

When Cass needs puppets for dangerous missions, she prefers using disreputable people—it’s a karma thing. With a psychic wave, she makes the bodyguard forget why he’s here and gives him thirst. He walks away. Cass approaches Patricia—that’s her name—and probes her mind, searching for her intimate life while casually chatting to unlock mental doors. She discovers Patricia’s taste in men: barely eighteen, innocent-looking. Cass clouds Patricia’s mind so that she perceives Cass as this type of young man and hears her words as his. Patricia cracks instantly. She follows Cass into the elevator, which Cass empties of passengers with a wave of psychic energy. Behind them, the Empty-Eyes guard, well-trained though he may be, sees nothing.