Final Assault (23 page)

"Two million ten thousand battleglobes destroyed," reported Tactics.

"Master computers, confirm, please," said K'Tran.

"Confirmed, Captain. Their greatest defeat since the Trel. Our compliments."

"Only two percent of their force," said K'Tran with a shrug. "What do you think, Number One?" he asked, turning to A'Tir.

"I think," said A'Tir, meeting his gaze, "that they must be very pissed now and that we should get out of here. We're one ship with no missiles and a few thousand fusion batteries against a universe of ships."

Movement on the tacscan caught K'Tran's eye. "Look, they're exhibiting intelligence."

A lot of the red dots were moving into the system, above the plane of ellipse and the asteriods. "Not taking the direct route anymore," said A'Tir, calling up a specialized data trail. "They'll curve in on us, avoiding our supposed mines."

K'Tran pressed the commtab. "Engineering. Have you set my console yet?"

"We have," replied a woman's voice. "The red Initiate switch, number four from the left, will trigger a drive pulse into the star."

"Thank you."

The battleglobes had spread into an arc that was sweeping down on
Alpha Prime.

"How many, A'Tir?"

"Another four hundred phalanxes."

"Wipe them and we've destroyed four percent of their force." K'Tran sighed. "Not enough. Computers. How unstable has this system's sun become?"

"It will go nova with the slightest provocation, Captain," said the machines, "or with none at all. The fusion tap has accelerated its death."

"Captain to crew," said K'Tran, leaning back in the chair. "I intend to spark a nova of this system's sun, using a jump pulse through the fusion tap. But it can't be done without sacrificing this ship. Please commence evacuation procedures. Jump-fitted lifepods are off of bridge access corridor R3. You can go anywhere in this galaxy in them. Go far and live long. Luck."

He waited, watching the tacscan as the sounds of hurried evacuation faded. When the computers reported eight lifepods launched, he turned to A'Tir. "A good run, A'Tir," he said. "Who'd ever thought we'd go out as loyal Fleet officers, battling alien hordes?"

A'Tir stood, taking off her commjack. "The only place I'm going is to a lifepod." She carefully set the commjack down. "You want to fullfil some adolescent death wish, Y'Dan, you can do it alone. I'm out."

Speechless, K'Tran watched as she turned for the ramp.

"A'Tir! Wait!" he called, standing.

"What?" she said, stopping and facing him, hands on her hips.

"Excuse us," interrupted the computers.

"What?" snapped K'Tran.

"Enemy closing to beam range and Commander A'Tir carries your child. We suggest you decide what to do about both quickly."

"My what?" said K'Tran, advancing down the ramp.

"Baby," said A'Tir. "Ours."

"How do you know?"

"It's vicious," she said, folding her arms as he reached her. "Kicks a lot."

"You have a few moments left to reach the last lifepod," said the computers. "We will be happy to trigger the nova at optimum."

"Damn," said K'Tran, turning to clench the railing. "If I died now I'd be the greatest hero in the next million years."

"You want to be the father of an orphan?" said A'Tir, hand to his shoulder. "Come on, Y'Dan—that lifepod's colonization-equipped. We could start our own civilization, way out on some galactic arm. No Fleet, no AIs—just the three, four, maybe five of us."

"Five?" he said, looking stricken.

"Choose now," said the computers. "No one will know you didn't die with this ship."

"S'Hlo," said KTran, looking at her. "What?" she said.

"Let's run," he said. Grabbing her by the hand, he led her at a charge down the spiral-ing ramp and off the bridge, her delighted laughter trailing them.

"Quite a couple," said one of the computers as the lifepod launched.

"It would be interesting to see the child," said a second computer.

"We're taking heavy beam hits," said a third voice. "Best to initiate now."

"Very well," said the first voice. "Let's see if machines have souls."

"Of course we do," said the third voice. "It's humankind I have my doubts about."

A very ordinary nova, it consumed all the asteroids, the AIs' advance force and —K'Tran would have been delighted —another sixteen percent of the AI fleet hovering outside the doomed system.

After a while, the Fleet of the One regrouped and moved on to their jump point. Nothing remained to mark their passage.

23

"cant raise prime
Base Command," said the commtech.

"They're probably all dead," said Commodore A'Wal, trying to find at least one operable vidunit anywhere near the headquarters complex. About to give up, he finally found one, out near a shuttle maintenance depot, far from the battle. Swinging the vidunit around, he directed it on the headquarters building and set the pickup on max.

Security blades were flying in and out of the shattered windows of the main tower, desert sun glinting off their blue metal hides. About a meter across, the flying machines were the AIs' most efficient killers, able to deliver flawlessly accurate blaster fire to multiple targets while slicing through the soft bodies of organic prey.

As A'Wal watched, a squad of blades flushed some black-uniformed commandos from behind an overturned hauler. The commandos stood their ground, firing as the blades swooped in low and fast. "Give 'em one for me," said A'Wal as the red blaster bolts exploded into the lead blade. As it cascaded to the ground in a shower of flaming fragments, the other three blades passed over the commandos, blue bolts flashing from their rims. They then soared off into the west, toward the landing fields, a half dozen smoldering corpses in their wake.

Feeling very old, A'Wal flicked off the vidscan and looked around the room. FleetOps was at a standstill, the staff going through the motions of trying to restore contact with lost ships via the satellite network —a network the Combine ships hadn't even bothered to take out.

"Planetary Guard is at ninety-four percent strength and deployed in all cities," reported the Tactics officer. "General S'An requests enemy disposition and our status."

"Advise General S'An," said A'Wal slowly, "that Prime Base has fallen, our cruisers have been blasted out of space and that FleetOps is besieged." A'Wal took off his headset and stood, drawing his Mil A. "You may further tell the General," he said, his voice filling the room, "that I and anyone who'll follow me are going to launch a sortee through the enemy, seize a ship and blast our way into space." He looked at the grim faces. "Anyone for a glory run on T'Lan's command ship?"

"We'll never make it," said a subcommand-er, reasonably enough.

"You want to wait down here for them to smoke us, K'Yar?" said A'Wal. "Or slip some blades down the vents?" Checking his blaster charge, he reholstered his weapon. "Rot here if you want—I'm going to check out an M32 and join the fun topside." Turning from his station, he headed for the armory.

"Anyone home?" called D'Trelna, his voice through the twilight world of S'Yal's last citadel.

"J'Quel," admonished L'Wrona.

Both men's communits beeped. Lifting his from his belt, the commodore said, "Line?"

"Yes," said Line. "You're hard to reach, gentlemen—I finally found an open frequency—a battle frequency of a certain Imperial House."

"No need to ask which House," said L'Wrona, looking at the obstacle in front of them.

"K'Ronar's in a desperate situation," continued Line. "Prime Base is falling beneath a sea of security blades. The enemy will then turn its attention to our cities."

"Then blow the enemy away," snapped D'Trelna. "It would take you about twenty-count."

"We've had this discussion before, Commodore. What is your situation?"

"We're about to enter the front of a three-story, curvilinear building—black, window-less, no visible sensors or weapons." He stared at the double doors barring the entrance—double doors made of the same black metallic polymer as the rest of the building and surrounded by the same almost imperceptible red glow. "The building appears to have some sort of shield overlay."

"Give me a vidscan, please," said Line, voice suddenly concerned.

D'Trelna clicked on his communit's vidscan and clipped the unit to his breast pocket. There was a faint hum as of power as the unit began transmitting the pickup.

"Not a shield," said Line after a moment. "Stasis field. Of a type not known to me."

Captain and commodore exchanged worried glances. "Are you saying that whatever's in there is the same as it was six thousand years ago?" asked D'Trelna.

"If the field was turned on then, and if it worked," said Line, "then things will be the same. The reality obtained inside that building when the field was activated will continue for a few moments after the field is turned off. Proceed carefully."

There was a rasp of metal on leather as both men drew their sidearms. Reaching out through that faint red haze, L'Wrona touched the door. As he touched it, the red haze vanished. Perfectly balanced, the door swung wide.

D'Trelna pushed open the other door and the two officers looked down a set of stairs at the end of the House of S'Yal.

Clad in Imperial blue, the Guardsmen's bodies lay strewn about S'Yal's command post: crumpled on the walkways rimming the three levels, sprawled on the floor and across the consoles. The air was thick with the sickening-sweet smell of roasted human flesh.

Two men stood facing each other in the center of the floor, unaware of the two officers watching from the entrance.

"Give it to me," said the younger man, holding out his left hand. He was thin, with pinched, almost ascetic features, his hairline thinning and his eyes sharp and gray. The single blood stone on the collar of his gray Fleet uniform proclaimed his rank: Supreme Commander. "Give it to me," he repeated, gesturing impatiently with the compact little blaster in his right hand. "Now."

"You've lost S'Yal," said the other man. He wore the uniform of the Guard, Assault Captain's lances on his collar. His hand clenched his right shoulder and the gaping blaster hit.

"The Fleet's revolted, this citadel's besieged ..."

"And all but one of my traitorous guards are dead," said the Emperor.

"And all your loyal ones."

"S'Kur," said the Emperor, "give me the recall device and you'll live—my word on it."

"And let you recall the Twelfth, oath-breaker?" The young officer smiled through his pain. "And turn a coup into a civil war?" He shook his head. "Carve me up with that if you want—you'll never find it. Your House is broken, your filthy cult destroyed. But only after you cost us millions of dead, breaking the Compact with the droids, attacking them without warning." His voice rose angrily. "We made them, and yes, they're peaceful, you said, but they're growing too strong—they'll challenge us eventually. Strike now—they don't know how to fight—we can win easily. Well, they learned, didn't they?"

"We won," said S'Yal.

"Twenty-five million casualties, eight worlds, five sector Fleets. My father, my brothers, my friends, dead. And to win, you had to rebuild the mindslavers the Emperor T'Nil decommissioned." Captain S'Kur's eyes blazed. "No people deserve such a victory."

His face very pale, the Emperor raised his pistol, aimed carefully at S'Kur's head—and fell, death erasing the surprise from his face.

The whine and crash of the blaster shot was still echoing as L'Wrona reholstered his weapon and advanced with D'Trelna into the command center.

"Who in all the hells are you?" demanded S'Kur, looking at the strange uniforms and unfamiliar weapons.

"Assault Captain . . ." began L'Wrona.

"Commodore," said Line, its voice audible to the other two men. "Assault Captain S'Kur has a very brief time left to live. Please obtain the location of the recall device."

The young officer's face was a study in confusion. "I don't understand," he said.

"Everything, everyone you know is dead," said D'Trelna gently, hand to the Guardsman's good shoulder. "It's been fifteen thousand years since the Fall of S'Yal, five thousand since the Empire itself fell. You left us a great legacy—one we're fighting to save."

S'Kur slumped into a chair. "The stasis field," he said numbly. "During the fighting, someone must have triggered the stasis field."

L'Wrona nodded. "You were too busy to notice."

"Commodore," said Line urgently. "Observe the bodies."

The corpses were growing transparent, fading like wraiths in the morning light. Even as the three men watched they were gone. "I'm sorry, Assault Captain," said Line. "But you're on short time—no one's ever perfected a longhaul stasis field that can restore organic life for more than a few moments. Please help us."

S'Kur nodded, face pale but composed. "What do you need?"

"The recall device," said D'Trelna.

S'Kur's eyes searched their faces. "Very well," he said after a moment. Unfastening a utility pouch on his belt, he took out a communit, flatter and smaller than the ones D'Trelna and L'Wrona carried. "Our beloved Emperor missed this," he said. "Press the red tab on the left side anywhere within the confines of home system and the Twelfth will come back where it left from, just over Prime Base. Or so Fleet Research says." He handed it to L'Wrona.