“History forces our hand.” Fela paused to gather her strength. Her throat worked, a hard scraping without anything to lubricate the action. But she would resist this woman with every weapon at her disposal, including non-complaint. “The same story repeats whenever we established our own culture. There are those who simply won’t let us be. As if our very existence, no matter how peaceful or removed from them, is an offense. So they come in, kidnap our people, build themselves up on our backs, raze our buildings, bomb us, sabotage us.”

“Our history is not so different. My people call ourselves the Lei’den. Our people flourished. Yes, we fought among ourselves, but that’s simply the nature of people. Then outsiders violated our space. In the name of peace and exploration. Their presence was a … disruption. Its only benefit was to unite our factions to rid ourselves of the invaders. And we vowed to seek them out, to defend ourselves from further incursions by taking those same disruptions back to them.”

“But what of those with truly peaceful intent?” Fela asked.

“No such people exist except in fantasy.” Car’Annie tapped the control on her wrist. Shackles fashioned about Fela’s wrist and, as if tethered to an invisible cord, drew her to the table. The shackles dragged her the length of the table until she was completely stretched along it. “Well, this has been pleasant. Shall we get down to business?”

“I’ve told you all I’m going to.”

“Let’s go over the defense protocols again, shall we?”

“What’s the point?” Fela raised her head to lock her gaze on to Car’Annie’s. “Even if I knew them, once I was reported captured, my command codes would have changed, and any plans I or my team were a part of would have been adjusted.”

“I believe you. I just need to be able to plead your earnestness to others.” Car’Annie gestured, and a machine much like a giant mechanical spider scuttled into the room. Each leg slinked forward, a herky-jerky motion as if doubting the certainty of each step. It approached her, slow and full of menace, if a machine could be assigned intent. “This is a truth crawler. Its emissions fill the room with a neuroagent designed to lower your ability to resist. You’re probably familiar with some of its effects.”

The truth crawler’s head appeared to be a hollowed-out ball. Two of its legs removed it from its perch and slipped over Fela’s. Much like a portable scanner, it locked her in place. A pair of thin tendrils lowered from the cranial carapace, snaking into her nose. Metal arms extended from it, wrapping about her, winding down along her torso. Needles extended from the tubes. They punctured her arms.