A stab of the planet-sized spear and a destroyer flared into nothingness. Another and a superdreadnought was cut in half. A cut of the spearhead and a dreadnought exploded in actinic fire.
But as the song reached its end, the avatar faded away, raising his spear in a final tribute.
“No stopping this time,” Weaver said. “ ‘Fight For Freedom’…”
“Now that there is something to see,” the CO said, watching the screen. The major interior holes in the ship had been patched and while the atmosphere in CIC wasn’t exactly thick, it was at least breathable.
“Sir, with respect,” the TACO said, “I’m glad Captain Weaver talked you into letting him go back to try to get the system working.”
“Duly noted, TACO,” Prael said. “Duly noted.”
All combat units, shield retreat. Maximum deceleration. Exit by nearest warp point.
“Where The Eagles Fly I Will Soon Be There,” Miriam sang.
A bald eagle, its wings as wide as planetary orbits, stooped through the fleet. Where its wings passed, dreadnoughts shuddered and faltered, destroyers flared white-hot and exploded, frigates ceased to exist. The fighters trying to provide cover lasted no longer than gnats caught in an oxyacetylene torch. Where its talons closed, superdreadnoughts burst apart, their refractory armor as insubstantial as tissue paper.
The Dreen fleet had changed vector, heading off for points unknown. The brain-ship was in the lead of the retreat, showing an unexpected turn-of-speed for such a large vessel. The eagle disdained to engage the enemy commander, as if letting it flee to tell of the power of the rulers of this patch of space. Ships had fallen out of the retreat, untouched by the power of the station they simply ceased to accelerate. Some of them, those that were fully Dreen, exploded or came apart like overripe fruit. Converts simply coasted, leaking air and water for reasons unknown. The eagle disdained these carrion of the battle as well, concentrating on the ships that tried to avoid the battle.
As the song closed the eagle didn’t fade. It simply took up a proprietary position between the fleet and the station, a bundle of arrows appearing out of the mist for it to perch upon.
“Can you hold that?” Weaver asked.
“Easily,” Miriam said, her eyes closed. “Now that I know what I’m doing. In fact… There,” she continued, opening her eyes. “It’s set, now. Until I tell it to go away or we shut down the station. Easy, really.”
“For you,” Weaver said. “You sure you can’t get the brain-ship?”
“There seems to be a range limiter,” Miriam admitted. “I can’t get out much beyond the gas cloud. They’re already past that.”
“We really shouldn’t let them get away,” Weaver said with a frown. “We’re going to have to fight them again some time.”
“Like, right now, sir,” Captain Zanella said. “The Dreen boarding force just entered the docking bay.”
“Damn,” Weaver said. “I knew I’d forgotten something important.”
“Interesting,” Berg said, watching the new monitors in the docking bay. “It’s not landing.”
“Would you, sir?” Gunny Juda said.
The docking platform was covered in space spiders, to the point where it was solidly purple in spots. The spiders had also sensed the approach of the Dreen and were up and awake, scurrying around in groups trying to get to the hovering ship.
What the Dreen apparently didn’t realize, was that there were spiders on the upper levels as well. Berg could see them cascading off the upper platforms in a broken river. Many of them were killed by the impact on the hull of the Dreen ship, others missed and plummeted into the depths. But quite a few were landing on it.
The Dreen ship, unheeding of the parasites, opened up a hatch on the underside and dropped out seven of the oddest things Berg had ever seen. They seemed to be sea anemones, with thousands of tentacle legs.
As they hit the platform, the legs flashed out, scooping up the spiders. Nearly as many orifices opened on the side and the spiders were flipped in to be crushed by what looked like large molars.
The cleaner systems probably would have worked if there hadn’t been so many of the space spiders. Unfortunately, as fast as they ate spiders, more and more came on. The cleaners were actually increasing in size from all the sustenance, bulging from the mass of the spiders they were consuming. But the spiders were getting through the flickering tentacles, climbing up onto the bodies of the things, cutting with their claws and looking for a way in that didn’t have teeth.
The ship dropped two more of the cleaners but it was fruitless; the station had become packed with the Dreen-eating spiders. And just as the hatch was opening, the ship suddenly gave a massive twitch as if it were a dog bitten on a nerve by a flea. It spun in place and headed for the airlock. It was already beginning to shudder as it exited the Tree.
“God, I love those things,” Eric said, grinning. “Captain Zanella… ?”
“Okay, we’ve got about seven destroyers by the door,” Bill said. “I’m not sure how we’re going to get rid of them; the system won’t shoot under the station. Maybe the Blade can drive them off. But as long as they stay inside the field… I don’t think the Blade can get them. And there’s a few hundred fighters left. We can’t even see them with this system, so they’re going to be a pest until they run out of fuel…”
“Or into a space spider,” Miriam said. “I told you they were cute.”
“Very,” Weaver said. “And we’ve got the brain-ship headed out of the system. But we’re sort of stuck here.”
“We are, aren’t we,” Miriam said, frowning. “It’s the destroyers by the door that are the problem.”
“I wonder how they’d react to an airlock opening,” Berg said.
“Why?” Weaver asked.
“Well, sir, in space once momentum is imparted to something it maintains it,” the lieutenant said. “And we’ve got all these damned spiders just sitting here…”
“I can’t believe we’re down to throwing rocks,” Day said.
“Just get ready to hand me spiders,” Lurch replied. “Opening airlock.”
When there was no immediate reaction he stepped right up to the edge and looked out.
Two Dreen destroyers were “down” from his perch. He couldn’t tell how far away but it didn’t really matter. Once velocity was imparted to an object in zero gravity…
“Take that you interstellar menaces,” Sergeant Lyle shouted, throwing one of the baseball-sized ovoids. “Eat space spiders you… you…”
“People-eating morons?” Day suggested.
“Jerks,” Lyle said, continuing to throw the spiders. “I think one just… Yep, we have spiders on-board.”
“Why are you throwing, anyway?” Day asked.
“Were you the pitcher of your school’s baseball team?” Lurch asked. “No? Then hand me some more balls. I wonder if they’d fire if we did a space walk? The others have to be inside the shield somewhere…”
‹Organism 8139 infestation in quadrant three.›
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