The Spider and the Fly

by C.E. Stalbaum

  ***

  When New Keledon hadn’t been burned to the proverbial ground within a few hours of hearing the news of the impending attack, Markus was pleasantly surprised. Had the asteroid been filled exclusively with humans, he imagined things would have played out much differently. For better or worse, his species wasn’t known for its poise in the face of absolute chaos. Individual humans could be stoic and reasonable; large groups, however, were a different story entirely.

  Thankfully, aliens made up almost ninety percent of the population, and even more thankfully most of those aliens were apparently a lot better at dealing with impending doom than their human counterparts. The growing lines leading up to the two transports and smaller shuttles weren’t exactly straight, and a non-trivial number of people were trying to push their way closer to the front, but all in all no one could reasonably complain about the result.

  Now all they needed were two transports that could actually move…and a psionic shuttle that could hold off the inevitable assault for as long as possible.

  “You’re absolutely certain this thing can fly?” Jen asked for the third time since they’d climbed aboard.

  “You did look at the Golem, right?” Markus asked. “The Mire specializes in unorthodox design.”

  “Right,” she muttered, glancing down to one of the open panels in the wide cockpit that they’d never gotten around to closing. Inside was a veritable briar patch of tubes and wiring. “It’s just that I’m reasonably sure I’ve seen more complete ships in dry dock.”

  “She’ll impress you enough once we get her going. Now hand me those diagnostic readouts. I want to make sure all the settings are right before flipping on the power switch.”

  Jen grunted and handed him the datapad as he crawled beneath the piloting controls. “Let me guess: the terminal exploded in your face the last time you turned it on?”

  “Nothing that dramatic,” he assured her, glancing between the notations and the hard-to-read numbers on the circuit board. Everything checked out. “Just a few sparks. Though now that you mention it, the first time I plugged into the psionic generator it did burn half my hair off.”

  She remained silent, and Markus smiled wryly when he slid back out and caught a glimpse at the stony expression on her face. “I’m just kidding,” he soothed. “But I have to admit it’s oddly satisfying to find something that legitimately terrifies you.”

  “I’m not terrified,” she protested. “I just don’t particularly like the idea of becoming a battery. I can’t imagine I’m the only one.”

  “You could always ask the Widow how many of the Sarafan shared that particular phobia. I’m sure she’d be happy to tell you all about it.”

  Jen glanced over to the inactive tac-holo. “I wonder if she’ll come here personally.”

  Markus shrugged. “As far as I know, she’s never left the Nidus. I wouldn’t be surprised if she sends a few Spiders along, though. From what you said, it sounds like she’ll want to get her hands on all the Flies living here.”

  “Have you warned them?” she asked softly.

  “Not yet. I didn’t see the point in terrifying them any more than necessary. Other than Selaris and Thomas, most of the others are pretty young.”

  “They still deserve to know. If the Spiders get aboard the station, they might want to kill themselves before being captured.”

  His mouth cracked open. “I don’t know if it’s because I still hurt like hell or because I haven’t slept worth a damn in a long time, but for some reason I keep forgetting how cold you can be.”

  Jen turned towards him. “You’d rather them be captured and indoctrinated?”

  “No, but I think handing a bunch of fourteen year-olds suicide pills is a bit much, don’t you?”

  “I don’t care how you handle it, but hiding from the truth isn’t going to accomplish anything. There’s a very real chance those transports are never going to fly, and that means the Spiders will be coming for them. I think they should be prepared.”

  Markus sighed and rubbed at his face. “We’ll jump through that corridor when we get to it. For now, why don’t you activate main power?”

  She leaned down and hit the button on the console, and a reverberating hum echoed throughout the shuttle. One glance at the instruments confirmed that all power readings were exactly where they should have been.

  “All right, well, that’s step one,” he said. “Step two is charging up the psionic core and then taking this baby out for a practice run. You still up for it?”

  “I’m sorry.”

  Markus stopped in place and glanced back over his shoulder to look at her. “What?”

  “I’m sorry I didn’t come with you at Typhus,” Jen said softly. Her body was as rigid as a shield pylon, and her blue eyes were fastened on the piloting controls. “I’m sorry I took you back to the Nidus, and I’m sorry I ruined your new life.”

  He stared up at her for a long moment before grunting. “You know, I don’t think I’ve ever heard you say anything like that before.”

  “It’s meaningless. Regrets don’t change anything.” She pivoted towards him, and for the first time in the fifteen years he’d known her, a tiny speck of liquid dripped down her cheek. “But I figured I should say it anyway.”

  “Yeah, well, you were right,” Markus murmured. “It was stupid to bring you here, and frankly it was probably stupid to bust you out, too. There’s plenty of blame to go around.”

  “Maybe, but at least when you do something stupid, it tends to be for the right reasons.”

  He smiled tiredly and stood up next to her. “It’s not easy to break through all that indoctrination. And who knows, maybe the Widow fucked with your head after you went back. She could have done something to you and you’d never know it.”

  “I don’t like excuses,” Jen told him. “I made my choices, and most of them were wrong. Now a lot of people are going to die.”

  “Not yet, and not at all if we can prevent it,” Markus said. He turned back to the psionic core and opened up the linkage interface. “For the record, though, I do still kind of want to shoot you. Maybe that will make you feel better.”

  “It does, actually.”

  He snorted. “Why does that not surprise me?”

  “It means you’re not a complete idiot,” Jen said. “That counts for something.”

  “Great,” he grumbled. “I appreciate it.”

  “But I do still think you should get rid of the cat.”

  Markus frowned and glanced back up at her. It was hard to see her face with her head tilted away, but he caught a glimpse of her reflection in the window…and the faintest trace of a wry smile on her lips.

  “I’ll have to properly introduce you later,” he said. “Maybe have you give her a tre—”

  His holopad beeped, and a nervous tingle danced across the back of his neck as he picked it up. “Coveri.”

  “We just received a signal from the astral buoy,” Grier said gravely. “The Convectorate battleship is on its way.”