The Spider and the Fly

by C.E. Stalbaum

  ***

  “Those interceptors are headed right for us,” Jen said.

  I know, Markus replied telepathically. You don’t need to talk, just act.

  He caught her brief flash of annoyance through their shared link with the Phoenix, and he couldn’t help but smile. She was angry with herself for not picking everything up instantly. He’d always found that streak of competitive pride endearing, even when they were growing up together on the Nidus and battling for the Widow’s favor. Perfectionism had its downsides, of course, but she was already doing better at this in her first few minutes than he had after several hours. Putting her in the pilot’s seat had been the right choice.

  “Tayla, order your fighters to keep their interceptors off of us, and make sure you don’t get in too deep,” Markus said into the com. “Try and bait them away from the city if you can, anything to buy us more time.”

  “Yes, I was paying attention at the briefing,”’ Grier replied tartly. “We’re heading in—stick behind the Blue Star as long as you can. It has the best point defense weapons of any ship in the fleet.”

  “Yeah, I was paying attention too,” he quipped. “Good luck.”

  On instinct, he reached out to shut off the com, but then he reminded himself that it wasn’t necessary. He was the ship now, for all intents and purposes, and all it took was a flicker of thought to manipulate the instruments however he wanted to. He similarly had to repress his urge to glance down to the tac-holo; all he needed to do was ask the Phoenix and it would paint a far more vivid picture in his mind than any hologram ever could. He could sense the friendly ships all around them; he could feel their hulls, their power signatures, and even the surface emotions of their crews—though the latter part he almost wished he could turn off. He had enough anxiety of his own right now without listening to the latent fears of a few hundred other people.

  Just focus, Jen chided, a hint of amusement rippling across her thoughts. You’re the one who insisted this was a good idea.

  It is a good idea, Markus insisted. The first wave is almost here—be ready.

  The Convectorate fighters screamed in towards them, their small but surprisingly powerful pulse cannons spitting a haze of red fire across the ragtag Mire fleet. Most of the ships fired back, but few of them had the targeting hardware capable of hitting such maneuverable targets. The Blue Star, however, had been the personal yacht of some pirate or another at one point, and he’d equipped it to handle fighters of all varieties. The small point-defense turrets embedded across the hull retaliated in bright bursts, and three of the interceptors vaporized before they could spin away.

  Do you feel it? Jen asked, her mental voice barely a whisper.

  I feel a lot of things right now.

  No, I mean her. Can you feel her?

  Markus frowned and reached out past the hull of the Phoenix, past their pitiful little fleet, all the way to the Unifier…and then a dark, bitter chill worked its way down his spine.

  The Widow, he murmured. I didn’t think she’d come herself. When was the last time she even left the Nidus?

  I don’t know, but maybe she wanted to try and capture New Keledon’s Flies personally.

  Or kill us, he said. Either way, it doesn’t matter. She can’t do anything to us from in there.

  You hope, Jen said grimly. Anyway, the Golem’s fighters are engaging. Now seems like the best time to make our attack run.

  Right. Go ahead—I’ll get the weapon ready.

  He felt her mental nod as the Phoenix slipped out from the coattails of the Blue Star and then abruptly darted forward. His stomach wrenched as the inertial dampeners struggled to compensate, but fortunately the enemy fighters weren’t prepared for it either. The Phoenix surged straight through the buzzing swarm as Jen lined them up for a strafing run.

  Up ahead, the Golem had already engaged. Its port batteries sprayed a stream of greenish energy bolts towards the Unifier as it lined up a long-range broadside. Few of the shots were actually connecting; Grier was still keeping her ship at the fringes of the battleship’s range. Fortunately, though, the ruse seemed to be working just as well as Markus had hoped. The Unifier’s mighty cannons were busy tracking the Golem and its Deskari bombers instead of the hapless little shuttle flitting in and out of the battlefield.

  But with the Widow aboard, that would quickly change. She would recognize the threat for what it was, and soon it would be up to him to keep the shields intact.

  I’m shifting everything to the forward shields, he told Jen. And the cannon is coming online…now.

  Another tingle danced up and down his limbs as the ship’s psi-cannon siphoned the energy it needed from his mind. He’d managed to split his attention like this in earlier trials while they’d first been designing this shuttle, but back then he’d been firing at a stationary, unarmed shield generator, not a flying fortress that was trying to vaporize him. If he leaned too much on the weapon, then a single hit might cripple the Phoenix; if he focused too much on the shields, then we wouldn’t be able to breach the enemy’s defenses and this would all be for nothing.

  You going to make it? Jen asked.

  I’m ready, he told her. Take us in.

  The engines rumbled as the ship dove hard towards their target. A mental alarm sounded in his head when one of the Unifier’s cannons disengaged from its assault on the Golem and attempted to track them, and a second later a flash of heat warmed his skin as a shot streaked just wide. Another blast followed almost immediately thereafter, and this one missed narrowly enough that Markus could have sworn he was standing at the mouth of a volcano.

  Then the third shot struck home, and the volcano erupted in his face.

  The pain was unlike anything he’d ever experienced before. Even the neural chip Jen had implanted inside him with weeks ago felt tame by comparison. It was as if every nerve in his body had been triggered at once, and for a moment he thought this agony was the last thing he’d ever feel, that his body was already dissipating into subatomic particles doomed to drift forever in astral space…

  And then the pain vanished. His senses returned, and the Phoenix didn’t seem to have suffered any damage.

  Shields are holding, Jen said. But you better fire quickly—I can’t dodge this thing forever.

  Markus swallowed and forced himself to breathe. Somehow he’d weathered the storm and held the shields together, but he wasn’t sure if he could do it again. They needed to strike fast and then get the hell out of here so he could take a minute to recover.

  Just a few more seconds, he replied, shifting his concentration to the weapon system. He visualized the target area on the battleship as they swept in dangerously close to the engines, and the weapon thrummed in anticipation. Here we go. Three…two….firing!

  A searing blast of blue-white energy lanced outward from their psi-cannon and splattered against the Unifier’s shields. Markus held his breath, waiting for something, anything, to happen…but the blast dissipated away as harmlessly as if he’d been firing his pulse pistol.

  It wasn’t possible. The Phoenix had been their secret weapon, their one and only chance to save the people of New Keledon from total annihilation…and it had failed. He had failed.

  And now all of them were going to die.