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I told him about the Spiders—a fascinating species。 Brilliant； the most incredible minds we’d ever e
across； and each Spider had three of them。 Three brains； one in each section of their segmented bodies。
We’d yet to find a problem they couldn’t solve for us。 And yet they were so coldly analytical that they
rarely came up with a problem they were curious enough to solve for themselves。 Of all our hosts； the
Spiders weled our occupation the most。 They barely noticed the difference； and when they did； they
seemed to appreciate the direction we provided。 The few souls who had walked on the surface of the
Spiders’ planet before implantation told us that it was cold and gray—no wonder the Spiders only saw in
black and white and had a limited sense of temperature。 The Spiders lived short lives； but the young were
born knowing everything their parent had； so no knowledge was lost。
I’d lived out one of the short life terms of the species and then left with no desire to return。 The amazing
clarity of my thoughts； the easy answers that came to any question almost without effort； the march and
dance of numbers were no substitute for emotion and color； which I could only vaguely understand when
I started to tell Jamie how the offensive had been launched here。 The Spiders were our best
engineers—the ships they made for us danced nimbly and undetectably through the stars。 The Spiders’
bodies were almost as useful as their minds： four long legs to each segment—from which they’d earned
their nickname on this planet—and twelve…fingered hands on each leg。 These six…jointed fingers were as
slender and strong as steel threads； capable of the most delicate procedures。 About the mass of a cow；
but short and lean； the Spiders had no trouble with the first insertions。 They were stronger than humans；
smarter than humans； and prepared； which the humans were not。…
I stopped short； midsentence； when I saw the crystalline sparkle on Jamie’s cheek。
He was staring straight ahead at nothing； his lips pressed in a tight line。 A large drop of salt water rolled
slowly down the cheek closest to me。
Idiot；Melanie chastised me。Didn’t you think what your story would mean to him？
Didn’tyouthink of warning me sooner？
She didn’t answer。 No doubt she’d been as caught up in the storytelling as I was。
“Jamie；” I murmured。 My voice was thick。 The sight of his tear had done strange things to my throat。
“Jamie； I’m so sorry。 I wasn’t thinking。”
Jamie shook his head。 “’S okay。 I asked。 I wanted to know how it happened。” His voice was gruff；
trying to hide the pain。
It was instinctive； the desire to lean forward and wipe that tear away。 I tried at first to ignore it； I was not
Melanie。 But the tear hung there； motionless； as if it would never fall。 Jamie’s eyes stayed fixed on the
blank wall； and his lips trembled。
He wasn’t far from me。 I stretched my arm out to brush my fingers against his cheek； the tear spread thin
across his skin and disappeared。 Acting on instinct again； I left my hand against his warm cheek； cradling
his face。
For a short second； he pretended to ignore me。
Then he rolled toward me； his eyes closed； his hands reaching。 He curled into my side； his cheek against
the hollow of my shoulder； where it had once fit better； and sobbed。
These were not the tears of a child； and that made them more profound—made it more sacred and
painful that he would cry them in front of me。 This was the grief of a man at the funeral for his entire
family。
My arms wound around him； not fitting as easily as they used to； and I cried； too。
“I’m sorry；” I said again and again。 I apologized for everything in those two words。 That we’d ever
found this place。 That we’d chosen it。 That I’d been the one to take his sister。 That I’d brought her back
here and hurt him again。 That I’d made him cry today with my insensitive stories。
“I know I’ve taught you better than that； kid。”
We jumped apart。 Jamie lurched to his feet； but I curled closer to the ground； cringing into the wall。
Jeb leaned down and picked up the gun we’d both forgotten from the floor。 “You’ve got to mind a gun
better than this； Jamie。” His tone was very gentle—it softened the criticism。 He reached out to tousle
Jamie’s shaggy hair。
Jamie ducked under Jeb’s hand； his face scarlet with mortification。
“Sorry；” he muttered； and turned as if to flee。 He stopped after just a step； though； and swiveled back to
look at me。 “I don’t know your name；” he said。
“They called me Wanderer；” I whispered。
“Wanderer？”
I nodded。
He nodded； too； then hurried away。 The back of his neck was still red。
When he was gone； Jeb leaned against the rock and slid down till he was seated where Jamie had been。
Like Jamie； he kept the gun cradled in his lap。
“That’s a real interesting name you’ve got there；” he told me。 He seemed to be back to his chatty mood。
“Maybe sometime you’ll tell me how you got it。 Bet that’s a good story。 But it’s kind of a mouthful； don’t
you think？ Wanderer？”
I stared at him。
“Mind if I call you Wanda； for short？ It flows easier。”
He waited this time for a response。 Finally； I shrugged。 It didn’t matter to me whether he called me “kid”
or some strange human nickname。 I believed it was meant kindly。
“Okay； then； Wanda。” He smiled； pleased at his invention。 “It’s nice to have a handle on you。 Makes me
feel like we’re old friends。”
He grinned that huge； cheek…stretching grin； and I couldn’t help grinning back； though my smile was
more rueful than delighted。 He was supposed to be my enemy。 He was probably insane。 And hewas my
friend。 Not that he wouldn’t kill me if things turned out that way； but he wouldn’t like doing it。 With
humans； what more could you ask of a friend？
Cracked
Jeb put his hands behind his head and looked up at the dark ceiling； his face thoughtful。 His chatty mood
had not passed。
“I’ve wondered a lot what it’s like—getting caught； you know。 Saw it happen more than once； e
close a few times myself。 What would it be like； I wondered。 Would it hurt； having something put in your
head？ I’ve seen it done； you know。”
My eyes widened in surprise； but he wasn’t looking at me。
“Seems like you all use some kind of anesthetic； but that’s just a guess。 Nobody was screaming in agony
or anything； though； so it couldn’t be too torturous。”
I wrinkled my nose。 Torture。 No； that was the humans’ specialty。
“Those stories you were telling the kid were real interesting。”
I stiffened and he laughed lightly。 “Yeah； I was listening。 Eavesdropping； I’ll admit it。 I’m not sorry—it
was great stuff； and you won’t talk to me the way you do with Jamie。 I really got a kick out of those bats
and the plants and spiders。 Gives a man lots to think about。 Always liked to read crazy； out…there stuff；
science fiction and whatnot。 Ate that stuff up。 And the kid’s like me—he’s read all the books I’ve got；
two； three times apiece。 Must be a treat for him to get some new stories。 Sure is