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“Serrviiice wiiilll resumemomentarilyin theee mmmeantimepleaseremain seeeeeated!” urged their stalled elevator cab. Advice no one heeded.
“Alert! Alert! Alllllleeeeert! Impactimminentallert!”
Harsh sunlight poured in through half of the cab’s giant windows. The other half displayed a dense and inky black sky, with a sliver of bleak, barren world down below. The elevator cab juddered and shook all around them, mingling alarms with distorted warnings and pleas for assistance.
Impaaaact iinnn 10,9,8,7…”
Overhead, something monstrously large and mechanical made its way down a cable that stretched between Rainbow Bridge and Aerie Station, eclipsing that tethered asteroid completely. It looked like a fast-moving metal spider, larger by half than their stalled vehicle.
“6,5…4…”
Miche flung the strongest shield-spell he had over himself and the others. Besides that, the cab had “survival gear” in its emergency lockers; simple rings that expanded to form a transparent helmet and a slick, constricting spacesuit when placed round the neck of a passenger. There was even one for the marten, whose stench fogged the air until the filtration system kicked in.
“3… 2… “
Their vehicle’s shudder and sway increased violently as that giant spider
“…1…”
…struck, sending long, razor-sharp limbs crashing in through the windows. There was a tremendous shattering, splintering noise that dropped to a whisper, then nothing at all as the cab’s air escaped in a sudden wild rush. Miche hadn’t expected that, nor the storm wind that almost blew him out into the void. He hung on with magic, clamping himself and the others by sigil and word.
They could communicate, thanks to their survival ring helmets, but no one had time for chatter. With the shielded marten clinging fast to one shoulder, Miche drew and ignited his energy blade. Three feet of gleaming blue light shot out of its hilt, casting long, slanted shadows.
The elevator cab bounced and swung, twirling like a bead on its fraying cable. Shattered glass blossomed away through the void or hung like a crystalline mist, inside. Marget’s transmitted roar punctured eardrums. She swung her axe up to one meaty shoulder, then launched herself through a stoven-in window. Meanwhile, those giant spider legs developed long, questing tendrils that lanced through the cab like purple-dark lightning.
Miche burnt them with flame, adding a hasty “air” sign to his rune-coding. Then there was nothing but transmitted panting, muffled cursing and Marget’s guttural roars. A sudden sharp CLANG shook the floor and walls as Zak seized two opposite spider legs and yanked them together, hard. Next, the construct spliced their tips together in mid-cab, using a burst of magical heat and light. Now, the spider was trapped, which was… Good?
Salem and her giant monkey companion defended the cab’s engine and brain-crystal, beating back all of those stabbing legs and jagged, dark tendrils. Erron signaled to Miche, jerking his head to indicate that they should go out.
“That’s two legs down, plus one that I hacked apart, and another that Kitty and Monkey are playing with. Now’s the time to strike the main body.”
There was no directionality to the sound of Erron’s voice, but their suits compensated by pressing harder against them, on the speaker’s side. Creative magic, and Miche quickly memorized all of those glittering sigils for later use. Now, he followed Erron’s slick, gleaming form out through a glass-fanged window.
Unlawfully taken from Royal Road, this story should be reported if seen on Amazon.
The metal spider struggled and jerked overhead, fighting to free its bound legs. Couldn’t, so simply released them instead, detaching both limbs at their axial joints to spread out like long, thorny wings.
With the station above and the planet below, with the sun like a volcanic crater off to their right, the elves set to work. There was nothing to stand on, at first, but then Miche’s compression suit emitted a watery-looking tether that snaked its way back to that crazily swaying cab. It anchored the elf and then began drawing him back to the scarred, sparking hull. Miche landed beside a shorn limb and stuck there, as his survival suit turned magnetic. The spider was using an ugly array of tools to peel away hull plating, digging down to the wires and chips, below.
“The lift can’t endure much more of this,” grunted Erron, over their helmet link. “Marget is striking the monster’s head...”
(With tremendous force, sending slivers of plastic, metal and wobbling fluid arcing away with each stroke of her axe.)
“Find something that looks important, Junior, and smash it.”
“Junior?!” Miche repeated. “I could be your ancestor!”
“Doubtful,” said Erron, turning to look through his transparent helmet. “You never gave rise to descendants. But I’ll explain how to do it later. Occupied.”
Junior. Right. Mich hauled in the shreds of his dignity, seeking refuge through action. He got the hang of maneuvering at the end of a tether with magic, getting agile enough to swing himself onto the monstrous spider. Landed by something that flashed a blinking bright red. Important… or maybe just a lure.
“Erron, Meg,” he called out, as shards of mechanical spider whirled all around him, “Never mind flashing lights! Look for something that seems unimportant, no target at all. Here…” He adapted a Find-object spell on the fly, causing a scatter of nodules to light up on the spider’s carapace. “Strike at those, not the decoys!”
The nearest to him was a nothing-looking sensory bump. Just a metallic wart that turned out to have a huge effect on the attacking spider. Miche plunged his energy blade directly into that bristling lump, driving the weapon through metal and wiring, halfway up to its hilt. The spider jerked violently, hurling Miche away to the end of his tether. He swung there a moment, cartwheeling wildly, battered by showers of scrap, half-blinded by sunlight.
Erron and Marget tore into their targets, as well, causing the giant spider to raise its jagged forelegs and spread great, glowing tusks. Three new legs erupted from the monster’s sides. Tipped with high-energy welding tools, those newly formed limbs slashed at the elves and Marget. Other arms tore sections from the spider’s own sides and belly, creating great showers of sparks. Strange behaviour… until it began welding those metal plates to the elevator’s doors and windows, sealing Miche, Erron and Marget outside.
Zak responded by fighting to tear loose a half-welded segment. The spider’s eye-cluster flashed, emitting a powerful ray that bounced from glass-fragment to polished metal to glance off Erron’s helmet, striking Zak’s forehead directly. Having found its target, the light beam intensified suddenly. Less than a heartbeat later, the construct’s head bubbled like water, then sprayed off into the elevator.
Firelord burst out of Miche then, needing no protection from space. Able to speak somehow, the blazing-red god said,
“I go to yon shrine, Once-Valerian. Hold off the beast. I will seek out and destroy its power source.”
And then, breaking up into tiny, shimmering bits, Firelord streamed up the cable to Aerie Station, strengthened by worship, prayer and need. Miche acknowledged the Shining One’s words with a nod, too busy muttering spells and swinging his sword to answer aloud. Had to keep moving, for a stationary elf made an easy target for banked, deadly rays.
The mechanical spider’s nearest leg was tipped with a sparking, blue-white electrical soldering tip. Miche dodged its first strike by spinning sideways and curling up into a ball. He saw a chance and took it, because the elevator cab was down to one entrance, which Salem and Monkey were defending with all they had. The spider-bot opened a port on its head and fired a stream of blazing-hot rivets. Scored a strike on Monkey’s helmet, causing a web of fast-spreading cracks.
Miche growled a mending spell, sketching the sigil in void, rather than air. He didn’t have time to do anything else, though. Another highlighted target came into view as the young elf tumbled over their giant attacker. The highlighted bit didn’t look like much, just a bolted down panel with: No Access printed on it in small yellow symbols. Good enough for Miche, who flipped at the end of his tether. Hauled himself in to first soften the panel with a firebolt, and then cut with his sword, peeling it up and open. Next, he reeled himself down, counting on Marget’s thunderous axe-work to keep the spider from sensing trouble. Got close and then handed Gildyr-the-marten through the opening, saying,
“This thing has to have some kind of brain, Stench. Go give it a headache.”
Completely missed the spider-leg’s sweeping backswing, as electrical power flooded his body, turning the world at first searing-bright and then utterly black.