***
“Can you hear me, Minister?”
Tsarl Drathir’s eyes slowly cracked open, and he reflexively winced away as his pupils struggled to adapt to the bright lighting. “Yes.”
“Good, I was worried you might be lost to us. Do you know where you are?”
It was an excellent question, Drathir decided, and once his vision finally cleared he took in his surroundings. He didn’t recognize the room, but judging from all the med-tables and equipment it was clearly an infirmary—though notably not one built to accommodate Tarreen. Several short, nondescript figures flitted about the darkness nearby, but standing next to him was a black-haired human female that seemed vaguely familiar…
“You are on the Nidus,” she told him. “You were here conducting an inspection of the Spider Program, and we recovered one of our lost agents—”
“Yes,” he breathed, sitting up as the memories washed over him. They had recaptured the two defectors, Coveri and Vale, and attempted to interrogate them. But in his pride he had insisted the Widow leave their torture to him, and the results had proven disastrous. If she hadn’t intervened at the last second, he surely would have been killed…
“Where are they?” Drathir demanded, flexing his arms and testing his muscles. Everything seemed to be working properly.
“Unfortunately, they escaped,” the Widow said. “But all is not lost. I was able to dig the location of the secret Mire base from their minds. They have retreated to astral space.”
He smiled. Yes, he should have known she wouldn’t disappoint him. At least now they still had a chance to salvage this operation.
“We must pursue them,” Drathir said, vaulting to his feet as the fog clouding his thoughts finally lifted.
“The Drones have already begun work on refitting the Unifier for astral travel,” the Widow told him. “Unfortunately, Admiral Mothaal has been a bit reluctant to accept my suggestions.”
The minister snorted. He could hardly blame the other man, of course. When Drathir had first come here, he’d been virtually salivating at the prospect of tearing down the Spider Program. After all, the thought of human wretches having so much influence, especially in vital matters of intelligence, had been downright horrifying. But over the last few weeks he’d quickly come to realize that the Convectorate couldn’t possibly survive without the Widow and her operatives. He still loathed the idea of having to rely so heavily on humans, naturally, but the Spiders’ skill and prowess was not to be denied—and just as importantly, neither was their loyalty. The Widow understood as well as any member of the Conclave the dangers of anarchy. The Convectorate was all that stood between the civilized races of the galaxy and the sadistic Dowd or the barbaric Norgon.
Or even worse, the Mire revolutionaries who wanted nothing more than to resurrect the Sarafan.
“I will correct the Admiral presently,” Drathir said. “And then I will inform the Conclave of the importance of this mission. If we strike quickly, we can eradicate the Mire rebels for good.”
“I’m sure they will defer to your expertise on the matter,” the Widow said. “As will the Hierarchy.”
Drathir almost snorted again but stopped himself. No matter how valuable the Widow might have been—no matter how imperative the Spider Program was to Convectorate security—it still wasn’t appropriate to disparage the Hierarchs in the presence of a human. Not even if their prototypical aloofness continued to inflict more harm than good. That was yet another matter he needed to take up with the Conclave once he finally returned home.
“Prepare me a shuttle,” he ordered. “I wish to oversee the final stages of the Unifier’s refit and make sure the crew is sufficiently motivated. In fact, I may travel with them just to be sure.”
“Are you certain that is wise, Your Excellency?” the Widow asked. “I wouldn’t wish to see you injured, and the Mire will fight back with everything they have.”
“They can fight all they wish,” Drathir said, smiling as he reached over to the adjacent table and retrieved his holopad. “They will die just the same.”
The Spider and the Fly Page 51
