The Spider and the Fly

by C.E. Stalbaum

  ***

  “The enemy fleet has launched fighters, sir,” the Unifier’s tactical officer reported, his glowing yellow eyes flickering in anticipation. “Nine craft in all, six Windrunner-class interceptors and three modified Deksari heavy bombers.”

  “Windrunners?” Admiral Mothaal snorted. “I thought those dropped out of production two decades ago.”

  “The humans must have dug them out of the same scrapheap as that cruiser.”

  The bridge crew shared a casual chuckle, and Minister Drathir glared at their commander. “I suggest you stop underestimating our foes before the first shots are fired, Admiral,” he said coldly. “The Mire has proven its resourcefulness and resolve repeatedly enough over the years.”

  Mothaal turned, and his claws abruptly stopped drumming against the arm of his chair. “My crew fully understands the gravity of the situation, Your Excellency, but Windrunners are barely a match for unmanned hunter-killer drones, let alone my pilots.”

  “Perhaps not, but those bombers are modern enough. I recommend you stay focused on the task at hand.”

  “Of course, Minister, my apologies,” the admiral replied with the faintest trace of sarcasm. He glanced back to the tac officer. “Get me a full threat assessment on those ships as soon as you can.”

  Drathir grunted to himself as the crew scurried about their duties. After more than two weeks on the Nidus, he’d almost forgotten what it was like to be surrounded by his own people again. The Marid and Baalir caste crew members were terrified of him, just as they should have been, but as a fellow Asraad caste member, Admiral Mothaal was more than willing to buck at the apparent challenge to his authority. Military posts were considered the proverbial ghetto for the lower tier of Asraads, and that meant they tended to have a permanent chip in their scales, especially towards their brethren in the science and intelligence ministries.

  “A tenth fighter just launched,” the tactical officer announced. “Correction: it’s a small shuttle, design unknown. I’m detecting only a faint power signature, and it doesn’t appear to have any weapons or shields…”

  “Perhaps they’ve already run for their escape pods,” Mothaal said dryly.

  “It is a psionic ship,” the lone human on the bridge said. “Vale and Coveri are both aboard.”

  Drathir glanced across the crew pit to the small, unassuming woman as she stared almost vacantly out the bridge’s expansive viewport. The Widow had barely spoken a word since coming aboard, no doubt in an attempt to placate the admiral. Mothaal had been livid at the prospect of a human stepping onto his command ship, especially the bridge, but with this much at stake Drathir had wanted access to every available asset at his disposal.

  “You are certain?” he asked.

  “Yes.”

  “That seems highly unlikely,” Mothaal said. “Where would the Mire acquire the materials to build a psionic power core?”

  “Where did they find the materials to build a city in astral space?” Drathir countered. “As I said, they have proven their resourcefulness. We cannot afford to underestimate them.”

  “And we won’t,” the admiral assured him. “Tactical, launch our superiority interceptors. Order Thesk squadron to ignore the Mire fighters and concentrate on that new shuttle. The rest can engage the Deskari bombers.”

  “Yes, sir,” the officer acknowledged. “Fighter squadrons launching.”

  “Once they’re free, raise shields and bring all batteries online. It’s time to end this little rebellion. Wouldn’t you agree, Your Excellency?”

  “It has been for many years,” Drathir said.

  “I can sense the Flies on the station,” the Widow whispered so softly it was difficult to hear her above the bridge’s background din. “Krucius was right. They do have potential…”

  The minister’s eyes narrowed. “Are they a threat to us?”

  “No, but I recommend preparing the assault shuttles. Once their fighter screen is disabled, my people should be able to slip past and dock with the city.”

  Drathir sheathed and unsheathed his claws. He’d almost forgotten about the other two Spiders she’d brought with her. They were waiting in the hangar bay and prepared to capture the renegade Flies ahead of the fleet’s primary assault. A part of him had been tempted to ignore her suggestion and simply blow the asteroid to dust instead, but having seen what her people were capable of first-hand, he was no longer willing to discard such powerful potential assets. A little added inconvenience was a small price to pay.

  “Have your people prep the shuttles, Admiral,” he ordered. “We’ll launch them once Coveri and Vale are destroyed.”

  “As you wish, Your Excellency,” Mothaal said. “In the meantime, I suggest that you and your pet take a seat and enjoy the show.”

  Drathir grunted, a wisp of smoke puffing out of his nostrils. He hadn’t been present to witness the destruction of Mirador four years ago, but then-Minister Kirask had believed it would be the end of the Mire rebellion. He’d also believed it would send an unambiguous message to all the other insurgents across the galaxy that the Convectorate would no longer tolerate dissent. As it turned out, he’d been wrong on both accounts. The Mire had flared up stronger than ever, and other rebel groups from Regdar to Angelus had seen their recruitment numbers soar. The harder they pushed, it seemed, the bolder their enemies became.

  Solemnly, Drathir wondered if that same fate might once again befall them today. How would the citizenry at-large react once they learned the Mire had established a secret astral base?

  Would they be awed at the Hierarchy’s ability to root out terrorists hiding in the ultimate cubbyhole? Or would it merely encourage them to try to do the same? It was difficult to say.

  The one thing he did know, however, was that without the Widow and her Spiders, the Convectorate would be in a lot more trouble than it already was. He knew he would have a difficult time convincing the rest of the Conclave—not to mention the rest of the Asraad caste—but in a sense that battle would prove every bit as paramount as the one today. The Convectorate needed the Spiders, just like the Intelligence Ministry needed the Widow.

  For the moment, however, what mattered was destroying this city. And that was exactly what they were going to do.