The AI War (14 page)

"No," said K'Raoda.

"Very well," said R'Gal. "Those are identical lifestats. The chart in your left hand has my name on it, the other has no name. Therefore, they are both my lifestats. That is," he said to Q'Nil, "if my understanding's correct—no two people have identical lifestats."

"Correct," said the Q'Nil. "No two people do." He carefully removed a piece of tape made of the same synthetic as the transparencies, and handed the previously unnamed chart back to R'Gal. Expressionless, the colonel read the name: T'Lan, S'Tyr [Commander].

"Interesting, isn't it?" said K'Raoda.

The R'Actolians struck as John stepped through an archway. A cone of white light swept down—and stopped, hovering a meter above his head. Stasis field, he thought, then looked at the pistol in his hand.

Thank you, Guan-Sharick, he said, then moved on. The cone winked off.

A few feet farther and blaster fire spat at him—a stream of red bolts from half a dozen overhead firing points. Again, something stopped them a meter away. Feeling only a faint warmth, John stepped onto the ramp leading to the command tier.

T'Lan had just entered a white commwand into a port on a command console. He was calling up its message when a faint, dry voice interrupted him.

"Excuse us." i

"What?" said the AI, not looking up from his task.

"The Terran has penetrated the bridge."

"Kill him."

"We've tried. He continues to advance."

"Actually," said John, "he's here." T'Lan was out of the chair, facing John in less than a second.

The Terran shook his head, amazed. "Not even your lads on Terra Two moved that fast."

"On Terra Two, Harrison," said the AI, "you fought and won against a pickup force of limited-purpose units under a second-rate commander. Not so here."

"What do you want with this mindslaver?" demanded John. "Your ships are just as good—better, maybe."

"I'm going to kill you, ape," said T'Lan. "And enjoy it."

"You can't enjoy it," said John, backing from the advancing AI. "You're a machine."

"I'm a very complex machine," said T'Lan, reaching for him.

"Back off!" snapped John, raising his pistol.

"Your weapons can't
..."
T'Lan stopped, staring at the pistol for the first time.

"Problem, robot?" smiled John.

"Those weapons no longer exist," said the AI slowly, as if trying to convince himself. "All who bore them are dust. Dust," he repeated, unable to take his eyes from the pistol.

"Back off," repeated John. "Or I'll kill you."

"That weapon does worse than kill," said T'Lan, stepping back.

"Fine. Move again, and we'll have a demonstration," said the Terran. "Now, what do you want with this ship?"

T'Lan looked up. "You recall the entity unleashed on Terra Two? That sapient energy field spawned by those moronic S'Cotar?"

"Vividly." More like a flaming green hell, thought John.

Raiding that S'Cotar nest, the K'Ronarins and John had torched the insectoids' subterranean breeding chambers. The mix of fire and an unstable growth accelerant had awakened a unitary consciousness—a consciousness that had risen like a flaming green star from Terra Two, out into space, destroying the first ship of the AIs' Fleet of the One as it emerged from an alternate reality. Passing into that alternate reality, the green fire had destroyed the AIs' access portal even as it disappeared from the universe of Terra Two.

"That thing attacked our Fleet, Harrison," said T'Lan. "It wreaked havoc before it was driven off. The radiation it emitted is slowly destroying vital parts of our ships' drives. Those drives will be operable just long enough for most of the Fleet to traverse the Rift—the portal now opening into this universe."

"This is the official portal?" asked John. "The one closed by the Trel and warned of by Pocsym?"

"Yes."

"What good is a crippled fleet?" asked John.

The AI shook his head. "By the time it leaves rendezvous point, it won't be crippled anymore, Harrison. With the knowledge and equipment gained here, and the ongoing work at a certain planet, our faulty cybernetics will have organic replacements—human brains."

"You're converting your ships to mindslavers?" said the Terran, appalled.

"Only partially, and only until we have time to make further repairs," said T'Lan. "Which we will after we wipe your pathetic forces."

"Why this eternal antipathy," said the Terran, "this psychotic hatred of mankind?"

"My turn," said T'Lan. "There should be a number on the grip of that weapon. What is it?"

As John looked down, T'Lan's blue eyes flashed red, rapier thin beams thrusting for John's heart, only to vanish halfway there, intercepted by the weapon.

John pulled the trigger.

T'Lan froze, half turned toward the rail and a desperate jump for freedom. Guan-Sharick's side arm hadn't made a sound.

John stared at T'Lan, then looked carefully around, lowering the weapon. Equipment tiers chirped and blinked, continuing their unending esoteric tasks.

"Do you wish to take command?" whispered a voice. Dead leaves stirring in an autumn twilight, thought John.

"You must be the Seven," said the Terran.

"We are the Seven," replied the whisper. "The AI has placed us on standby. You may assume command of this vessel by pressing the gray Action key on the command board."

"What happened to the AI?" asked John.

"Your weapon emits a possibly irreversible stasis field— the AI is trapped within himself until the universe dies."

"Couldn't happen to a nicer machine," said John.

He went to the command console. The Action key was set to the top right of the tri-level keyboard. "This it?" he said, pointing.

"Press it and the ship is yours," said the whisper.

"What's on this commwand?" asked John, touching the end of a small white cylinder protruding from a port on the other side of the keyboard.

"The message of Poesym-Six," said the Seven. "Play it if you wish."

"How do I eject it?"

"Just pull it."

It came out easily. Slipping it into his pocket, John left the tier, beginning the long walk to the deck. Behind him there was a sigh.

L'Wrona squatted beside the corsair shuttle, touching an n-grav nodule. "Still warm," he said, rising.

"K'Tran's ahead of us then," said D'Trelna. "And with his original force intact." He drew his side arm. "Let's go get him."

"I will remain with this craft," said Egg, hovering near the airlock.

D'Trelna shook his head. "You will stay with us. In fact, you'll take point."

"But, Commodore, I have no combat skills."

"And I have no weight problem!" He jerked a thumb toward where the corridor made a sharp turn toward the bridge. "Take point."

They moved quickly up the corridor, D'Trelna behind the computer, L'Wrona and S'Til off to either side. Unlike most they'd passed, this passageway was lined with doorways—featureless slabs of gray, set deep into the bulkheads. L'Wrona briefly tried one of the doors, pressing in all the usual places. It remained shut.

A moment later, as the three humans and the slaver machine reached the turn, K'Tran and his corsairs appeared, stretched out in a long skirmish line. D'Trelna hooked his thumbs into his gunbelt as both parties halted, twenty meters apart.

"You get lost, K'Tran?" he asked.

"A problem with the navigation interlink," replied the corsair, walking slowly to his right, eyes on D'Trelna. "Where's the rest of your force?"

"Right behind us and coming at the double," said D'Trelna, aware of L'Wrona and S'Til edging toward opposite doorways. Hopelessly far from cover, the commodore tried to buy them some time. He had a fleeting vision of his gut-shot body stretched out on the deck.

"You're under arrest, K'Tran," he said as L'Wrona and

S'Til reached the doorways. "Have your thugs lay down their arms." He jerked a thumb over his shoulder. "I have a trooper in your shuttle, manning the fusion turret. One of you so much as blinks and he'll—"

"Fats is whistling through his asshole," said A'Tir. "The airlock's code-set."

K'Tran leaned against a doorway, smiling. "Do you remember, D'Trelna, when you were going to execute me, and offered me death preferences?"

D'Trelna nodded. "Off Terra Two. Regrettably, events interceded and you butchered your way free.''

"I'm reciprocating now," continued the corsair. "Blaster, blade or garrote—your choice."

"Lay down your arms," repeated the commodore.

"It would be best if you did as the commodore suggests, Captain K'Tran," said Egg. It had been drifting slowly back and now hovered to D'Trelna's right.

K'Tran moved, drew and fired. As with all good art, it appeared effortless, the blaster blurring into his hand, the deadly red bolts spitting straight at D'Trelna's heart.

No gunman, D'Trelna had his side arm only half out of its holster when K'Tran fired. Golden light filled his eyes. Dead? he wondered for an instant, then understood and ran.

Noting the minuscule movements of eye and muscle that signaled attack, Egg had moved into K'Tran's line of fire. The bolts intended for the commodore struck it, exploding in a shower of red and gold sparks. Moving erratically, the machine veered away, distracting the corsair fire long enough for D'Trelna to reach L'Wrona.

"That v'org slime's a good shot," said D'Trelna, dropping a corsair with two quick bolts, then ducking the return fire that bracketed the doorway. "Blessings on Egg," he added.

The slaver computer had stopped moving. It hovered against a bulkhead, tilted at an odd angle, apparently dead. Way across the corridor, a blaster in each hand, S'Til was engaging A'Tir and three others as they bobbed in and out of doorways and instrument alcoves, advancing steadily.

"They're going to charge, J'Quel," said L'Wrona over the din of shrilling blasters and exploding beams. He snapped off a bolt, then pulled back in, the return fire crashing around him.

"And wipe us," said D'Trelna, teeth clenched in anger. He shook his head. "K'Tran wins here, then the AIs win everywhere and this galaxy dies."

The lights went out.

"Charge!" called K'Tran, seizing the moment.

"Shit," said D'Trelna, firing blind.

Strobing bursts of blaster fire lit the corridor, disjointed instants of illumination showing the corsairs coming in behind a fierce barrage of red fusion fire.

Golden blaster bolts crossed with the red as Egg, suddenly alive, rushed to meet the corsair charge. The slaver machine was whirling like a top, glowing fiercely from the hits it was taking as it raked the corsair line with thick yellow bolts. To the three officers, crouching low, the corridor seemed to explode with blaster fire, gouging the battlesteel, sending L'Wrona and D'Trelna pressing even deeper into the doorway.

Corsairs and computer met in a blinding thunderburst of red and gold that ended abruptly.

It was dark again, silent except for someone moaning softly. The sweet and acrid scents of burnt flesh and scorched metal fouled the hot, dry air.

"Let's go," whispered L'Wrona.

"We're blind, H'Nar," said the commodore. "No flares, no torches."

"No guts, no glory," said the captain, stepping into the corridor. D'Trelna joined him. Blindly they stumbled forward, seeing only the red and gold specks that clouded their sight.

The lights returned as suddenly as they'd gone.

"Gods," said D'Trelna, looking at the carnage.

A trail of dead corsairs, bodies burnt and torn, led to where Egg circled, wobbling above a small tumble of corpses, its yellow skin blackened and pockmarked by blaster hits.

Egg was mumbling, words that became audible as D'Trelna and L'Wrona reached it. "Mutinous scum. Death to traitors. Empire and Destiny." It kept repeating the mad litany.

D'Trelna rapped sharply on the machine, blaster butt ringing on the metal. "Egg!"

The chanting stopped, though not the movement. "Commodore . . . D'Trelna?"

"Yes. Are you badly damaged?"

"A moment." The machine jerked to a halt. "Not irreparably," it said after a long silence. "I shall have to return to embryonic state for self-regeneration. I can function until we reach
Implacable.'"

S'Til and L'Wrona were finishing a quick survey of the dead. "K'Tran and A'Tir aren't here," said the captain.

"They just ran past me," called a familiar voice, "heading for the bridge."

Startled, the K'Ronarins turned. "John!" cried D'Trelna.

"With a gift," said John, holding up the commwand.

D'Trelna snatched it eagerly. "This is it?"

"That's it," nodded the Terran. "Pocsym discoursing on the Trel Cache. What's that mess?" he asked, pointing to Egg.

"This mess just saved your companions' lives," said Egg primly.

"Egg has been our guide and guardian through this horror," said the commodore with a vague wave of his hand.

"And T'Lan?" asked L'Wrona.

"An irreversible stasis," said John. "From this." He handed the pistol to L'Wrona. "You'll see something familiar there."

"The weapon's certainly not familiar," said the captain. Turning it around, he saw the triangular device. His eyes lit. "This, though . . . Terra Two."

"Of unpleasant memory," said John. "The AIs carried that symbol."

"Where did you get this?" asked L'Wrona, handing it to D'Trelna. "Did T'Lan have it?"

"This can wait," interrupted D'Trelna. "I want K'Tran. Where
..."

"Alert!" called S'Til, aiming past them toward the bridge corridor.

A'Tir was walking toward them, blaster held limply at her side. Oblivious to her dead shipmates and the leveled weapons, she stopped in front of D'Trelna. "May I return to my ship?" she asked dully.

A face without hope, thought John.

"That ship belongs to the Fleet from which you stole it," said D'Trelna as S'Til took the blaster. "And so do you. You're under arrest—Fleet articles of War. I'd cite charges, but I want to be out of here before my retirement date.

"Where's K'Tran?"

A'Tir looked at D'Trelna. "Not dead, I'm afraid," she said. "We reached the bridge and the shield was down. K'Tran left me at the entrance—he went in alone, commlink open. When he climbed the command tier, they—"