The AI War (24 page)

The battleglobes could easily have taken more nuclear missile hits—they'd been designed to withstand the ravening energies of the atom. What their designers hadn't conceived of—what no rational being would have conceived of—was the cyborgian aberration that was a mindslaver and its almost magical weapons systems.
Alpha Prime's
missiles held bits of antimatter in stasis. When the missiles reached target, those stasis fields released.

Two spectacular overlapping explosions occurred, twin blue-red fireballs, flecked with orange lightning, quickly gone.

The mindslaver returned, a great black wraith, halting off
Implacable's
port.

"Still there, D'Trelna?" asked K'Tran over the commlink.

"Why did you save us, K'Tran?" said the commodore.

"And what are your intentions?" said L'Wrona over his shoulder.

"I'm empowered to tell you," said K'Tran, "that we're prepared to stand with you against AIs. We have another forty-eight ships of this class and finally enough brains to crew them."

"Forty-eight mindslavers?" said D'Trelna. "Where have they been?''

"In stasis," said K'Tran, "awaiting this moment. The R'Actolians knew that forty-nine symbiotechnic dreadnoughts might take the Confederation, but could never hold it. For our help, we'll of course want some concessions."

"Of course," said the commodore. "What concessions?" It's come to this, he thought—I'm bargaining with a mindslaver.

"We want certain planets in Blue Nine for our own, under treaty. We want right of passage through the Confederation."

"Are these planets inhabited?" said L'Wrona.

"Not by Confederation citizens, Captain," said K'Tran.

"Whom you'll harvest," said L'Wrona angrily.

"A small sacrifice for the greater good, Captain," said K'Tran.

"Anything else?" said D'Trelna as L'Wrona started to speak.

"There are other, more minor requests."

"I have no—" began D'Trelna.

"—no authority," finished K'Tran. "We know. Just relay our demands to Fleet and Council. We're returning now to mobilize the rest of our fleet."

"How do we contact you?" said D'Trelna.

"We'll contact you, on the Fleet covert operations channel. If the Council agrees with our requests, you'll see us again when the fighting starts. Luck, D'Trelna."

The mindslaver shrank in size on the screen, then was gone.

"Engineering asks permission to lower shield for repair," said K'Lana.

"Granted," said L'Wrona after a quick glance at the tacscan.
Deliverance
was coming alongside.

Outside, the faint shimmer protecting the cruiser winked off.

"I'm at a loss, H'Nar," said D'Trelna, walking over to the captain's station. "Even if the mindslavers stand with us and the whole bloody Confederation Fleet, the Fleet of the One is going to wipe us. Ten thousand battle units, ten thousand ships per unit—any force we field would hardly be noticed."

"Perhaps we can help," said a voice from the empty engineering station. Guan-Sharick-as-blonde, Lan-Asal, Zahava and John stood there.

"Interesting," said Admiral S'Gan, looking across the conference table at R'Gal. "And how many—friendly— AIs are there in the Confederation?"

"Just the Watchers," he said. "A few hundred of us."

"And the hostiles—the Combine T'Lan AIs?"

R'Gal shrugged. "Several thousand certainly, and not confined to Combine T'Lan. They've had centuries to infiltrate key positions. Their influence is far out of proportion to their numbers."

S'Gan had come aboard, assumed command and taken everything in stride—the R'Actolian's proposal, the presence of the two S'Cotar and R'Gal. By watchend, all were seated with both ships' senior officers, in the deck four conference room—a small gray cave deep within the ship.

The admiral turned to Guan-Sharick, who was seated opposite her at the end of the table. "What's your role in this, S'Cotar?"

"Our mission is to stop the AIs," said the transmute. "That has been our mission since humanity revolted and escaped the AI universe. Our bodies are cloned, our memories and special abilities transferred."

"Ridiculous," said the admiral. "You can't be endlessly cloned—each succeeding generation would have more defects than the previous. That's a basic tenet of information theory."

"We're cloned from original cells," said Lan-Asal.

"But . . ."

"I can vouch for them," said R'Gal. "They're two of the five lieutenants of He who led the Revolt, the one you call the Nameless Emperor."

"You're . . . human?" said John disbelievingly, looking at the S'Cotar.

"More than human, Harrison," said Guan-Sharick with an ironic smile.

"I don't believe it," said the Terran. He turned to D'Trelna. "Do you?"

The commodore looked at the two white-uniformed figures. "We'll find out, I think, someday. For now, I'm more concerned with their intentions than their true appearance. And R'Gal"—his eyes shifted to the AI—"the same goes for you."

"D'Trelna's right, R'Gal," said S'Gan. "It's fine that you vouch for them, but who'll vouch for you?"

"We're going to have to trust each other, Admiral," said R'Gal. "All of us. Disaster is certain, otherwise."

"Perhaps," said S'Gan. She looked at Guan-Sharick. "Tell me about this device the Combine developed."

Before the S'Cotar could speak, the admiral's commlink chirped. She listened, spoke and disconnected, then sat silently for a moment, looking down at her folded hands. "R'Gal," she said finally, looking up, "I owe you an apology. Fleet did not acknowledge my last report." Her eyes went from face to face. "Rather, they've just listed me as killed in action, along with all my ships and crews. As for you, D'Trelna," she smiled humorlessly at the commodore, "you and
Implacable
have been declared corsair—shoot on sight. Combine T'Lan works quickly," she added.

There was a long silence in the room, broken at last by
Deliverance's
Captain Y'Kor. "Why can't we just go back to Prime Base and. expose the plot?''

"That's what they expect you to do, Y'Kor," said L'Wrona. "There are probably ships sitting off home jump point right now, gunnery programming tied into your ship ID. You wouldn't live long enough to see your own sun."

There was a sudden babble as everyone tried to speak.

S'Gan restored order, rapping her hand on the table. A worn Academy ring rang on the table as S'Gan rapped her hand on the traq wood. "I'll listen to suggestions, not incipient hysteria," she said. "Anyone?"

Gods! she looks tired, thought D'Trelna. And why not? Lost all but one ship, dropped like a plague by a corrupt

FleetOps, the AIs coming and no one to believe her. Now is the time.

"If we're to be corsairs, Admiral," said the commodore, "let's act like corsairs."

"Explain, D'Trelna."

"Raid Combine T'Lan's research and headquarters facility."

"Why?" she asked.

"Tell the admiral what you told us," D'Trelna said to the S'Cotar.

"Thirty centuries ago, Admiral," said the S'Cotar, "I was an Imperial Survey officer—a cover for searching out the Trel Cache. I found it. I spoke with its guardian. The guardian assured me we could have the weapon the Trel had used against the Fleet of the One, but that only a united and militant humanity could defeat the AIs, weapon or not.

"We laid our plans well, and with the help of R'Gal and others, created Pocsym, who created the biofabs, which, you will agree, have produced a united, militant humanity."

"You killed a lot of people to do that," said S'Gan coldly, gray eyes on the blonde.

Guan-Sharick shrugged and continued. "As you know, we're now told that the weapon no longer exists, but that, ironically, Combine T'Lan has unknowingly produced a device that, with modifications, can recall the Twelfth Fleet of the House of S'Yal.

"Admiral, we need that device."

"The fleet that never returned," said the admiral, half to herself. She looked back at the S'Cotar. "Do you know what kind of ships the Twelfth had?"

"Mindslavers," said Guan-Sharick.

"Like Commodore D'Trelna, you're willing to employ mindslavers against the AIs?"

"I'd use anything against them, Admiral," said Guan-Sharick.

Something in Guan-Sharick's voice startled John, something he'd never heard there before—hatred.

"You have this device's location and a description?" asked S'Gan. Guan-Sharick nodded.

S'Gan turned to D'Trelna. "You haven't, by any chance, drafted a plan of attack on this facility, D'Trelna?"

"As a matter of fact," said the commodore, reaching for the complink, "I have."

S'Hlu was a soft, green world, tucked away in Red Seven, a quadrant adjoining Red One and the K'Ronarin home systems. Only fifty light-years from K'Ronar, it was visited frequently by Fleet units patrolling against corsairs and escaped S'Cotar.

Thus, the Combine T'Lan port officer gave almost automatic clearance to the three Fleet craft descending from the L'Aal-class cruiser that had just slipped into orbit.

Almost.

As they came in he ran a standard ID check—confirming that the
Forward Seven
was actually assigned Red Seven— then ran it again when the complink flashed
DESTROYED—SECOND BATTLE OF H'SAK.

The port officer leaned forward as fresh data trailed onto the screen, then cursed softly as he read:
INCOMING CRAFT IDENTIFIED AS ONE ARMED SHUTTLE AND TWO COMMANDO ASSAULT CRAFT. WANT SPECS???

Ignoring the query, the port officer slapped the general alarm call.

The klaxons had just started wailing as the control tower, ripped by fusion fire, exploded.

Sweeping out of the setting sun, the silver ships came in low over the ruined control tower, Mark 44's strafing the complex. The scattering of return fire was quickly suppressed by the shuttle, which continued circling and strafing as the assault boats settled onto the roof of a squat, black building.

The sides of the assault boats dropped away with a faint pneumatic hiss.

"Follow me!" cried L'Wrona, leading the rush down the ramp and across the roof. Seventy-one black uniformed commandos and R'Gal swept after him, the smaller contingent from the second boat setting up a defense perimeter around the landing zone.

The rush stopped at the closed double doors of the lift.

"Visitors?" said R'Gal, pointing to the lift indicator. The machine was coming express from the ground level.

"Count on it," said the captain. He turned to the commandos. "Hostiles in the lift. Deploy."

The commandos took up positions, a black arc centered on the lift. As they waited, the alarm klaxons stopped hooting and the blaster fire between shuttle and ground positions fell off.

Please, thought L'Wrona, sighting two-handed on the center of the lift door, not the blades. He'd seen destroyed ones, and read Harrison's action report on them—it was as close as he wanted to get.

The lift arrived, the doors hissing open on five layers of killer machines, red sensor scans moving balefully along the blue-steel edges of their blades.

"Fire!" shouted L'Wrona, squeezing off a bolt stream.

Blaster fire poured into the lift, obscuring it in exploding bursts of blue bolts. Smoke and flame billowed out— but no return fire.

The K'Ronarins continued firing until their reload signals beeped.

"Hold fire," called L'Wrona, peering through the drifting smoke. Slapping in a new chargepak, he advanced cautiously.

The blades lay in shattered heaps, slowly congealing rivulets of molten duraplast dripping on them from the lift's ruined walls and ceilings.

"They just hovered there and took it," said S'Til, standing beside him, looking at the destruction.

L'Wrona looked at R'Gal, standing to the right of the lift. Meeting the captain's gaze, he winked.

* * * *

"Status of raid, D'Trelna?" asked S'Gan, her image appearing in the commodore's comm screen.

"As per plan and schedule, Admiral," he said. "The diversionary force has landed atop the armory. Much shooting and shouting, but unable to advance off the rooftop. Intercepted communications show all Combine security groups are being vectored on the armory. L'Wrona will pull out on schedule, hopelessly outgunned. That great bloody firefight should continue to absorb them." He dialed for t'ata.

"Incidentally, Admiral, R'Gal just saved a lot of lives by jamming the blades' command and control frequencies."

"Great," said S'Gan. "Give him a medal. Anything from the real action yet?"

"No," said D'Trelna, sipping the t'ata but watching the tacscan—they'd accounted for the two guardships, but help was coming from the Combine base on the seventh planet—a lot of help. Time to worry about that later.

"We'll only know about the 'real action' if and when that force returns," he said, looking back at S'Gan.

"If they get back," said S'Gan. "I'm having Y'Kor pull
Deliverance
back to omega blue three nine. We'll intercept that incoming reaction force."

D'Trelna glanced again at the tacscan. "They'll punch through you like a meteor storm, Admiral."

S'Gan shook her head and laughed. To the commodore's surprise, it was a pleasant sound. "D'Trelna, they can't kill this ship. We're already dead. Ask FleetOps."

"But . . ."

She shook her head. "You do your job, D'Trelna. We'll take care of the reaction force." She touched her commkey, then looked back up. "D'Trelna?"

"Admiral?"

"It's up to you—stop those v'org slime."

"The AIs?"

She nodded.

"How?" He spread his hands helplessly. "We're infiltrated, they're on their way, and I've no faith in this magical weapon we're after."

"Find some way to hit their rear, D'Trelna," said S'Gan. "Between you, R'Gal, K'Tran and the two transmutes, you'll think of something. . . . You're an unorthodox slob, D'Trelna," she added. "You'll pull it off. Luck."

"Luck," he said to an empty screen.

D'Trelna turned to the tacscan.
Deliverance
was pulling out, heading straight for the—he counted—twenty-three Combine cruisers. Off to a very orthodox and very brief battle, thought the commodore.