"Indeed! If you agree that it is not any known species, it shall have to be named. Pseudocaelifera fulgurivorus was my first idea."

"Naming it begs the question of which court you would present the species to," says a third voice, nasal and reedy, Vero's cousin Ulsi.

Her reference brings the conversation to a pause for a long moment. Under normal circumstances, a scientific discovery by a scholarly aristocrat would be presented to the emperor. However, the imperial traditions of Baelo dictate that all other credible claimants must be removed from the succession before the new emperor can ascend, and the First Industrial War ground on with unprecedented human and financial costs to achieve an unprecedented stalemate.

Now the two claimants hold court in the north and south halves of the continent, neither able to assume the title and the corresponding powers. It puts the nobility in the awkward dilemma of studiously avoiding the kind of proximity to either would-be emperor that might lead to them being pressed for support, or else declaring for one side and being cut off from peaceful transactions with the other half of the continent for however long the interregnum drags on.

Lemrae's heart drops like a stone. He told them. Of course he told them. How many times had Lemrae used the words "secrecy is vital" or "this information is dangerous" in the past few weeks? Dozens, at least. Hadn't he explicitly told Lord Vero not to show the specimen to his entomologist friend?

But it isn't very surprising. Lord Vero had never really seen Lemrae as his boss. There will need to be new security policies -- but for now, Lemrae needs to handle this situation. He can't barge in and start yelling about secrecy. Right now, these aristocrats Briele and Ulsi don't know just how important it is to keep the information hidden. They must be convinced to keep quiet. But Lemrae can't afford to let them know that they have prime blackmail material.

After a moment to compose himself, he opens the door with casual authority. "Good afternoon. Baron Briele and Lady Ulsi, I presume? Welcome to our lab."

"We shan't ask to tour the rest of it, this is supposed to be a brief stopover." Her interest is fixed on the strange creature's body, and she prods it with a walking stick. "At least four pairs of legs, and two sets of wings... This certainly appears to be a new subphylum. With the setae and maxillipeds of the mouthparts, it resembles a filter-feeder, if those aren't antenna. Where did you say you found it?"

"Out in the field," Vero says, giving a wink and a slightly apologetic grin to Lemrae. 

Briele laughs, taking it for a joke. "Come now, milady, let him enjoy the accolades for this find before you go poaching his source." 

To Lemrae, he add, "Where there's one there'll be more, and cataloguing the extent of a new clade would bring as much prestige as discovering the first species of it. More work, but some do like assembling a collection."

Lemrae pauses briefly. Briele is focused on prestige, on who will be known for the discovery. How can he turn a desire for publicity into a motivation for secrecy?

"Of course." Lemrae nods along, accepting the premise. "Documenting their behaviour as well, naturally. Mating habits, lifespan, and so on." He gives Briele a conspiratorial look. "But perhaps not a... public collection. Prestige among the masses is one thing, but I fear most people wouldn't... appreciate the creatures properly. But a discerning gentleman like yourself, one so well acquainted with the cutting edge of science" -- here he gestures to Lord Vero -- "would of course understand the value in a private collection."

There are few currencies more valuable to an aristocrat than prestige. Lemrae hopes that a secret which sets the holder above others will be one of them.

He chortles. "Yes, the masses do so rarely show any interest in even the most exotic insects unless they've been sensationalized in one of the cheap magazines. And I'm sure you're busy enough here with all your other scientific endeavours without surprise guests disrupting your schedule with our visits."

The baron seems to have noticed Lemrae's discomfort even if he's misattributed the reason for it. 

"We had better be off, but do let us know when you arrange your first showing."

"We will, certainly. And I thank you for your discretion in the meantime." Lemrae looks out the window of the farmhouse. "Thank you for coming. You're welcome to return any time." He looks at Lady Ulsi, hoping that she, too, will remain discreet. Although I don't know quite how much Vero told them. If they just see a strange bug with bright colours, it probably won't put the chroniclers in danger if they tell others. Hopefully.

Ulsi does not give him any explicit assurances beyond a nod at his reasoning. With a few more polite pleasantries, they depart without further incident, leaving Lemrae and Vero with the specimen.

After they leave, Lemrae looks silently at Vero for several long seconds.

Lemrae is, notionally, Vero's superior. But Vero has never really acknowledged this, preferring to do his own work. Until now, this hasn't been a problem... Lemrae keeps his tone steady, trying to act as though he's simply asking a question.

"How many people have you told about the locusts?"

"Nobody other than our two visitors and another naturalist who couldn't attend, I have been discreet. They know nothing more than that we have an odd bug for their attention. And now we know that it is a specimen without precedent, which means it has no immediate relatives for us to compare it against, so we need not waste our efforts on enquiries in that direction." He seems quite pleased with himself.

"Nothing more than an odd bug..." Lemrae feels a touch of relief. "You didn't tell them about the imperceptibility, then?" He pokes at the specimen. Several days in the icehouse have caused the carapace to become slightly tarnished, and it can now be looked at easily, with only a slight headache after prolonged viewing. "This... may... be fine. Some tension leaves Le. "But if we investigate further, we're going to learn more. We're going to learn things that absolutely can't get out, not even to individual visitors. We might not know right away what we need to keep hidden, but it's become increasingly clear that some information could be very dangerous to share."

Lemrae's voice has become intense, almost pleading. "Can I trust you to keep things secret?"

The importance at last seems to sink in for Lord Vero. "But... You would ask me to lie, to my fellow nobles, or at the least to lie by omission. And if I did not agree to that, what, would you treat me the same way or prevail upon Lord Kalra to have me transferred to another laboratory? Science thrives on its being shared, I do not know if I can agree to withhold that." 

He pauses. "Will you at least permit me some time to contemplate the matter? No more than a day, but they say all significant decisions should be slept on."

It is at this point they are interrupted by a knock at the heavy door, from Serna. For once he does not look so solemn. 

"Excuse me, sirs, Olessi asks if her party can borrow some of our tools, she says they're having some engine problems."

She waves from the border of the property, having walked back to the boundary. About seven hundred feet down the road, a thick pillar of steam rises from the immobile carriage.

"The principles of science assume that information itself isn't dangerous, only what people do with it. But of course, do not decide rashly. I... appreciate that you understand the gravity of my request." Lemrae gets up to open the door, wondering if there was something he missed, some way he could have handled this mess better.

"Tools? Sure. I'll help bring them down. Just a moment." Lemrae excuses himself, quickly changes into his faded green work-robe, and heads down the hill to help fix a steam engine.

It turns out that one of the pipes has come loose and sprung a leak, leading the water to escape and the engine to overheat. The repairs are a simple matter of tightening it again and refilling the boiler, with Olessi helping to carry buckets from the stream while the nobles sit in the carriage. Once the engine is running smoothly once more, they thank Lemrae and depart (again) without further incident. 

The next day, a letter is waiting on his desk, in Vero's hand.

"Dear Lemrae,

I hope this letter finds you well; the day has dawned fine and clear as I pen this, excellent conditions for a ride or an experiment..."

His pleasantries continue for half a page before he comes to the meat of the matter.

"I am visiting some clients of my patronage to attend certain overdue legal matters; I expect to be absent for a week in resolving them. Having thought more about our discussion yesterday, I would like to begin by giving you my sworn word that I will speak no more on the discoveries that we have made, save that we found an odd bug in the field and with the eventual exception of my deathbed chronicler.

However, I find that I do not have the temperament for such dissimulation to come naturally, when I imagine myself prevaricating to my peers, and nor do I wish to be forced to consider for every innocent discovery how it might be mispurposed to nefarious ends. In other words, I would rather be closed off from such matters myself than be the one to shut others out.

I leave it to your discretion whether we shall continue working together as colleagues, or rearrage the laboratory so that my own more benign researches shall be isolated from yours, or if you would rather write Lord Kalra and request that he make alternative arrangements for me at some other location. (Should you do the latter and our mutual benefactor requires an explanation, I suggest that 'philosophical disagreements on the nature of science' would be sufficient and accurate, if incomplete.) If you wish to reply, I enclose the address that I may be reached at. 

I remain, I hope, yours cordially, even if we are to no longer be collaborators or colleagues.

Lord Vero"

Lemrae's heart begins to race as he opens the letter, and he forces himself to read through half a page of very polite non-information. When he reaches the letter's actual contents, he has to look at a wall for ten seconds before continuing.

The answer was no. But, crucially, it's a soft no. Lemrae exhales slowly. Lord Vero will not tell of the existing discoveries to all and sundry. Today, hundreds of chroniclers will not be driven to madness or death. Calming himself, Lemrae takes a fresh sheet of paper, dips his pen, and begins to write.

Dear Lord Vero,

I am pleased to hear that your journey is going well. It is quiet here, and...

He matches Vero's work, pen scratching out voluminously polite inquiries before he reaches the actual purpose of the exchange.

Thank you kindly for your honesty in this. The requirement of secrecy is not something I expected when we began this project, and I admire your sense of scientific integrity. There is no reason we cannot continue our research together, and I hope to see you back at the farmhouse. Just this morning we acquired some new frogs, which are being kept for your return. Some spare parts for the electrostatic generator...

...and that your clients' legal matters go smoothly.

I remain, yours faithfully,
T.M. Lemrae Winla-Racine

He signs the letter and folds it over, intending to post it soon. 

Lemrae has posted in the main area of the farmhouse a map of the telegraph system. Various pins stick out of it, marking recent transient resistance incidents. The wire he fired along continues to have low resistance: the locusts have not returned.

He steps outside, where Witred is cleaning her horse. He walks up to her and waits patiently for her to come to a breaking point and acknowledge him.

"...Yes?" She asks, setting the comb down once mane and tail are untangled.

(The horse regards him with a similar expression to her.)

"We've got approval for broader testing." Lemrae looks at Witred and the horse in turn. "So if any of those veterans you mentioned need the work, we're ready to hire one or two to clear telegraph lines."

"Good. You want to pick out your first recruits yourself, or shall I handle that?"

"I don't know any of them, unlike you... and we don't really have the budget to be picky. I think you'd do a better job of selection." They have enough money to pay two people, at rates which are better than day-labourer pay, but not by much. "Should I plan to provide them with their tools? Or will they have their own muskets?"