The AI War Part 4

Deciding that only man could save man, Pocsym had created a race of biofabs-biological fabrications-dubbed them the S'Cotar, and sent them against the K'Ronarins. They'd almost destroyed the Confederation and claimed the galaxy for themselves. Almost. Only Implacable Implacable's stumbling into the Terran system and her discovery of the biofabs' home base, deep beneath the surface of Terra's moon, had saved humankind-that and a hurried alliance between the K'Ronarins and the Terrans, ending in a desperate commando a.s.sault on the S'Cotar citadel.

That crazy cyborg started the war, reflected John-and finished it, blowing up the biofabs' citadel, most of the biofabs-and itself. The commandos and the few Terrans with them had barely escaped in time.

Is L'Wrona through with the twit? he wondered.

L'Wrona wasn't.

"Just before we left Terra, Commander, we went up against some hideous machines."

"I've read the report, sir."

"Then you'll know that though we stopped them in one parallel reality, they may well be coming into a separate part of this universe. Our part. Right now. We have the point in s.p.a.ce at which they're supposedly entering. First, we go to the Trel Cache for a weapon to use against them."

"We only have Pocsym's word for this," said Zahava.

"A word that we'll soon confirm or refute," said the commodore.

"We're a sacrifice mission," said N'Trol flatly.

"No Fleet ship is ever intentionally sacrificed, Mr. N'Trol," said L'Wrona.

"But all ships are expendable," said the engineer.

"Depending on the mission-yes."

John stood. "No one's asked it. Let me be the one. What is there about this part of the galaxy, this Quadrant Blue Nine? According to the computer, no ship that ever came here alone has returned-not in over four thousand years. And," he continued as L'Wrona tried to interrupt, "any inquiries for data older than that gets a 'Non-Available.' "

"I know," said D'Trelna, leaning on the podium. "All information regarding this sector is proscribed and available only if we're under attack."

"That's an awful burden to operate under," said John.

"I protested," said D'Trelna. "S'Gan protested. To no avail."

"What do we know?" asked N'Trol.

"Just this," said L'Wrona. "Something happened here that wiped the colonies in this sector and shook the Imperials down to their battle boots. They put this whole quadrant-that's two hundred cubed light-years, gentlemen- under interdict and never came back again."

"The Confederation probed Blue Nine infrequently, John," said D'Trelna. "Computer gave you those results."

"Could it have to do with the Trel?" asked Zahava.

"May we soon find out," said the commodore.

"And survive the experience," said N'Trol.

"Here comes Fats," said A'Tir, putting the forward scan on main screen.

Looking up from ship's status reports, K'Tran read the tactical data threading across the bottom of the screen. On her present course, Implacable Implacable would pa.s.s close to where would pa.s.s close to where Victory Day Victory Day drifted, not a light showing, her engines cold. drifted, not a light showing, her engines cold.

"Select down to auxiliary power, K'Lal," K'Tran ordered. "They've got Imperial-grade sensors."

"Selecting down," said the corsair, entering a command. The lighting and instrumentation dimmed.

"Their sensors will read our hull," said A'Tir, watching Implacable Implacable grow large on the screen. grow large on the screen.

"Fine," said K'Tran, dialing a drink from the chairarm. "Spectroscopy's going to show we're a meteor-nickel-and-iron."

"The camouflage baffling," she said.

"The camouflage baffling." He sipped his t'ata and grimaced. "K'Lal, this is ice-cold."

"Beverage warming's not a priority on auxiliary, skipper," said K'Lal dryly, adjusting a telltale.

"Hazards of combat." K'Tran dropped the cup into a disposer.

Implacable was moving off now, the menacing weapons batteries and sensor cl.u.s.ters shrinking on the screen. was moving off now, the menacing weapons batteries and sensor cl.u.s.ters shrinking on the screen.

"What concerns me," said K'Tran, "is our symmetry. If her computer considers that an anomaly, alarms are going to sound."

"Not to worry," said A'Tir, turning from her console.

"When they pulled those L'Aal-cla.s.s cruisers from stasis they modified the s.h.i.t out of the sensor package-slapped a restrictive overlay on it."

"What are you saying? They downgraded it?"

She nodded. "Right down to the primaries. It's our old unreasoning fear of artificial intelligence."

"Not all that unreasoning," said K'Tran. "The Machine Wars-AIs almost wiped the Empire. Fleet doesn't take chances, especially with resurrected Imperial systems."

"She's stopping," said A'Tir. Implacable Implacable was now stationary, screen-center. was now stationary, screen-center.

"She's reached the last set of coordinates, and only one watch after us," said K'Tran. "Not bad." His eyes swept the sensor readings. "At last"-he leaned back in his chair-"after fifty centuries, a ship of K'Ronar is at the legendary Trel Cache. One would expect something dramatic--the universe trembling, stellar pyrotechnics, the end to life as we know it. Music. Certainly there should be music." He spread his hands. "Nothing. Not even the Trel Cache."

An alarm beeped. Silencing it, K'Lal read the new data. "Something big, coming in fast." He frowned. "I don't believe these readings!"

Nine long strides brought K'Tran to the tactics console. His eyes widened as he read the scan. "Big? It's the size of a city! Look at those weapons and speed readings!"

"Going for Implacable,'" Implacable,'" said A'Tir from her station. said A'Tir from her station.

"Slowing," said K'Lal. "Just at the edge of visual." His fingers flew over the complink, trying to firm the pickup.

The main screen blurred, the view shifting from Implacable Implacable to a black blur. to a black blur.

"Split it," said K'Tran. "Tactical projection."

The s.p.a.ce view shrank to the top half of the screen as the bottom half blanked. Data slowly threaded along the margins as a three-color, tri-dee projection began to form with agonizing slowness. "What are you running, one sensor array?" asked K'Tran, frowning.

"Even that's a risk. Counterscan could still pick us up."

"Dump visual, then."

An instant later the tactical projection occupied the entire screen.

A'Tir whistled softly. "Ten times our ma.s.s," she said, reading the scan. "Weapons batteries the size of our engines. Citadel-cla.s.s shielding." She looked at K'Tran. "We don't make anything like that. What is it?"

"Something we once made, long ago," said K'Tran quietly, watching the screen. "It's a mindslaver."

As they watched, red beams sprang from the center of the projection. "And it's about to wipe Implacable," Implacable," he added. he added.

4.

They'd told K'Raoda what they were going to say at the briefing, taken a final look at the tacscan and left him in command. It had been quiet for a while, just he, what they were going to say at the briefing, taken a final look at the tacscan and left him in command. It had been quiet for a while, just he, T T'Ral and a handful of others on the big bridge. He rose, stretching, then stepped to the nearest food server, dialing up soup.

"Incoming vessel," said the computer.

K'Raoda was back in the command chair, soup forgotten. "K "K'Lana," he said to the comm officer, "challenge. Y'Gan, give me a tactical work up."

"Incoming vessel does not respond," said K K'Lana after a moment.

"What have you got?" he asked, swiveling the chair toward T T'Ral.

"Huge," said T'Ral. "No current tactical configuration. Wait. Archival match. It's ..."

He stood, seeing his death on the screen. "It's a mindslaver, T'Lei."

It flashed onto the screen as K'Raoda thumbed the battle stations' tab-twenty dark miles of battlesteel, instrument pods and weapons turrets.

"Command staff to bridge!" K'Raoda called above the klaxon's din. "Command staff to bridge!"

"Full evasive pattern, Y'Gan. Everything she'll do."

"Implementing," said the commander, fingers flying over the complink.

"Engineering," continued K'Raoda, turning to the white-uniformed tech at the engineering station, "cycle to drive. Gunnery, stand by."

Thick as a shuttle craft, cobalt blue fusion beams lashed out from the mindslaver, striking midpoint on Implacable Implacable's shield, buffeting the cruiser like a gale.

"Shield power down four point eight percent," said the engineering tech.

The mindslaver ceased firing.

"Just probing our shield," said K'Raoda.

"Slaver holding position relative to our own," said T'Ral. Different constellations were now on main screen- the black ship still sat screencenter. "We're almost at light one!"

"That's not astrogation," said K'Raoda. "It's magic." The battle klaxon stopped.

"All battle stations manned," reported K'Lana. "Damage control reports compiling. Gunnery requests permission to fire."

"I'll take your damage control," said the engineering tech.

"T'Laka," said K'Raoda over the commnet, "hold fire. We need everything for the shield. He's going to pour it on. Jump us out of here!" he ordered the engineering tech. "Now!"

The mindslaver fired, over a hundred batteries working Implacable in a carefully predetermined pattern. The shield began to glow, a sullen burnt umbra. in a carefully predetermined pattern. The shield began to glow, a sullen burnt umbra.

"We can't jump," said the engineering tech, turning from the console. "Not and hold shielding."

"Shield failing, sections one, five, seven and twelve," said the computer. "Failure imminent. Failure imminent."

"K'Lana," said K'Raoda hollowly, "transfer ship's logs to drone pod and launch."

"Pod launched," said K'Lana.

A round ball of silver flashed by on the screen. Piercing the shield, it wove between the blaster beams and was gone.

The shield was turning an eye-searing white. The glare eased as the computer filtered the pickup. "Shield failure," it said, "mark fifty. Forty-nine ..."

"I'd blow us up, right in its teeth, Y'Gan," said K'Raoda above the computer's death count, "but we need another senior officer to implement destruct."

"Let's not be hasty," said a new voice. D'Trelna stood behind the command tier.

"Commodore!" cried K'Raoda. "It-"

"I know," said D'Trelna as the count reached thirty. "Picked you up at rendezvous point. I've been listening on the tactical band."

He turned to the comm officer. "K'Lana, give me broad band linkage to that horror."

"Linkage established," she said at twenty.

"Commodore D'Trelna to mindslaver," he said, dropping into the flag chair. "Acknowledge."

"We hear," hissed a cold whisper from chair and wall speakers.

"Fifteen," said the computer.

"Here's a hideous poem you should like-Necropolis School-Late Empire: "Sad-eyed S'Hra laments no more. For as the metra petals drift down from Q'Nar's rough hills ..."

D'Trelna paused, fingertips pressed expectantly together. "Six," said the computer.

"Proud Death slips gently to her side," came the cold whisper. "Welcome, Commodore. Proud Death is at your side. We are the last dreadnought of R'Actol, Alpha Prime- Alpha Prime- your navigation beacon." your navigation beacon."

"Zero," said the computer. Outside, the shield died even as the mindslaver ceased fire.