Spider dreams

Incoming missiles.

“I know, I know.” He muttered absently, his eyes unfocused as he stretched his mind into the information net that controlled the ship. Here, he was the ship, the cold rain of photons splashing soundlessly against his hull, the smooth curve of the gravity well sliding downward…and the harsh discharge of beam weapons searing empty space all too near his fragile craft.

There were six of them, the energy signatures of their drives and weapons dancing complex patterns behind him as they chased him. Six of them to destroy one of him. Slight overkill, a quiet corner of his mind observed, for any craft of his size and specifications.

Semisentient AI subroutines whirled a tight cluster about his consciousness, processing data, feeding predictions, helping him tweak every last erg of power from his systems. His power plant was already far past any safe or sane generation parameters, his useless weapon systems jettisoned to rid himself of acceleration-inhibiting mass. He slewed his craft suddenly, standing it nearly on its tail as trails of ionizing radiation raced past at the speed of light, engines flickering for a moment as neutronium-core missiles tugged on the gravitic coils with slick, deadly force.

Despite his best efforts, they were slowly gaining on his craft, and each meter closer made their weapons that much harder to dodge. The display burning in the halls of his mind counted down to the point where a safe FTL jump could be made, slowly, too slowly. Of course, he did not matter. It was his cargo: precious, stolen, cargo.

The satellite AIs paused, conferred, and a window opened. An embedded message, one of many that had appeared on his long mission.

“Caldera, you must be under attack, so this will be brief. If you are disabled, the ship will self-destruct if a boarding is attempted. I didn’t want to do it…but your information is too valuable to fall into the hands of the enemy. I’m sorry. Control out.” The white-haired woman blinked out and Caldera sighed, scraping an infinitesimal fraction of a second from the raging battle to focus himself again. Then his eyes snapped open and he shot forward again, his craft bucking and writhing in its own personal maelstrom.

He spiraled, spun, twisted, and dived as AIs plotted hundreds of convoluted acceleration arcs, the escape limit creeping closer with each near miss that blistered the heavy silver armor of his ship.

And he cocked his head, tasting an idea. The satellite intelligences crowded about, conferred, agreed. It took a few scant seconds to modify some hull sections, the living tissue responding readily to the instructions. After that, it was simply a matter of time.

An ionized beam of electrons leapt across space from one of the pursuing craft. His own ship veered, twisted, and caught one of the slightly altered hull sections dead center. Three things happened simultaneously.

The hull section exploded outward, creating an expanding cloud of instrument-confusing flechette debris, crackling electromagnetic energy opaquing the area inside.

The power plant shut down, as did all nonorganic systems on the ship, leaving him tumbling through space.

The twenty-seven cargo containers opened simultaneously.

Twenty-seven cyberorganic minds awoke after long captivity.

And twenty-six weapons swung to point at Caldera as he stepped through into the cargo hold.

In the fractions of moments between seconds, where the thoughts of computers and computer-enhanced humans dwell, there was an exchange.

Who are you?
A friend
Why did you bring us here?
I was trying to free the child...

The eyes of a spider-like being flickered, her arms cradling the small human, and twenty-six weapons swung away.

We have not much time before this ship is destroyed. You must leave, if you can…

The black eyes of the ancient aliens regarded him with the same cold regard as the distant galaxies.

We do not flee and abandon friends. Wait.

They blurred forward, and then sprang to mind the thousands dead, the hundreds of towers destroyed before the twenty-six had been isolated in stasis, along with the single human that had not perished in that crystal city.

But the killing claws stayed sheathed, and he could not help the shiver when the cold, deep minds of the others slid into the shipnet with him. There was a moment as they probed, explored the capabilities, eyed the approaching ships. Then,

We are pleased. Brace now.

He did not even have time to swear as the power core surged back online, the gravity inducing coils ramping up faster than any such device could handle. And yet, even as they buckled, as the first reflexive beams cut through space, there was worked a little miracle.

Eight pairs of deadly legs caught and cushioned his physical body as the ship shuddered, the gravity drive tearing out through the hull as it went critical, collapsing into a sudden singularity. The deadly energies bent around the tortured space in the moments before the explosion as black hole smaller than a proton turned into pure energy.

When the surviving chase ships managed to get their instruments back online, they found no trace of the rogue ship, and reported the target destroyed.

But between the stars, a crippled ship fled, only the barest shadow passing in real space. Caldera rested in the cabin, while a black monstrosity cradled a human child in its arms, dreaming spider dreams.