The AI War (13 page)

"Good-bye, Captain," said S'Til as she pivoted, raising the rifle.

The lights came on, bringing with them the faint whine of the shuttle's cannon tracking down, locking on the massed components.

S'Til and L'Wrona dived under the craft as the Mark 44's opened fire, red fusion bolts burning into the gray ranks.

Prone, captain and commando fired their blasters at the husk of Admiral K'Yal. The component fell to the deck, its back and chest blown open.

Blaster shrilling and the explosion of fusion bolts mingled with the screams of the components as the turret went into rapid fire, ringing the craft with charred heaps of fused human flesh.

The three K'Ronarins were suddenly deprived of targets as the remaining components collapsed, untouched by blaster fire.

After a moment, L'Wrona and S'Til crawled out from cover as D'Trelna emerged from the airlock, a big M32 blast rifle in his hands.

"That last lot may not be dead," said the commodore, pointing at the unmarked bodies, "but
I
don't think they'll be bothering us—there aren't enough of them."

The air was redolent with burning flesh, a sweet, cloying smell that threatened the stomach.

"Why did they fall?" asked L'Wrona, holstering his blaster.

"To avoid further trauma to the collective consciousness of
Alpha Prime,"
said a new voice.

Guan-Sharick-as-blonde stood by the airlock, hands nicked into its pockets, smiling at the two leveled blasters.

"Butcher!" hissed L'Wrona, drawing his side arm.

"Hold!" ordered D'Trelna, interposing his bulk between L'Wrona and the S'Cotar. "You know the rules, H'Nar—no bug squashing till we hear it out." He turned to the S'Cotar. "That was your doing—the damper field, I mean."

The blonde nodded. "Between us, we've given the R'Actolians their worst day in centuries. And the day's still new."

"I never did thank you for that Terra Two warning," said the commodore.

"Enlightened self-interest," said the S'Cotar. "Do I get the Valor Medal?"

"You get a chance to speak a few convincing sentences before I let L'Wrona loose," said D'Trelna. "You do remember virtually exterminating his world, a few years ago?"

The blonde shrugged. "It was in the way."

"That's one sentence," said L'Wrona. His face was quite pale.

The S'Cotar ignored him, looking at D'Trelna. "Harrison's at the bridge, going up against T'Lan. The commwand is there, too. I've done all I can to make it an even contest."

"What is T'Lan?" asked the commodore.

"An AI combat droid."

"Gods," said D'Trelna. "And K'Tran?"

"Heading for the bridge," said the S'Cotar. "I think, Commodore, K'Tran's reach is finally going to exceed his grasp."

"Anything else?"

"To quote K'Tran, Commodore," smiled the S'Cotar, " 'See you in hell.' This"—a hand gestured toward the dead—"is only its outer circle."

Guan-Sharick was gone.

"Someday I'll kill that thing, J'Quel," said L'Wrona softly. "I swear."

"Yes," said the commodore, nodding slowly, "I believe you will, H'Nar. But I don't think you'll be very proud of it.''

"I trust I missed a good fight?" said a cheery voice. It was Egg, floating out through the airlock.

"You did," said D'Trelna. "Now get back in there and get us to the bridge." He looked around. "Are we the only survivors, S'Til?"

"They got the rest—alive," said the lieutenant. "They're meat by now."

She wanted to care—but had long ago convinced herself she couldn't afford to. The mission, and the logic necessary to complete it, were all that could be allowed to matter. Ten years of war and a hundred dead friends had taught S'Til just how precious a luxury grief was. It frightened her that even alone in her quarters, the tears never came.

"Meat," said D'Trelna. He thought of flashing surgical lasers, terror and unbearable agony, screams quickly stilled. And darkness forever.

Silently, the three followed Egg into the shuttle. The airlock closed. A moment later the shuttle rose over the wall of corpses and was gone.

After a while, fresh components came, salvaging what they could.

T'Lan watched the K'Ronarian shuttle soar off down the corridor. "They'll be here soon," he said. "Do I have to destroy them," he added acidly, "or can the Seven perform that minor task?" T'Lan didn't feel emotion, but he knew its uses.

"The Seven will destroy them, Forward Commander of the One," said the dry voice. "Is the equipment ready?"

The screen pickup changed to a wide scan of
Alpha

Prime's
hangar deck, now brilliantly lit, bustling with gray-uniformed components busily stacking white duraplast crates on steel-ribbed shipping pallets. Two of the bodies had been Confederation commandos. "It will be loaded and started to your ships off D'Lin within the watch."

"Very well," said the AI. "Our main force isn't at D'Lin yet." He flicked off the screen. "But auxiliary vessels are now at rendezvous point, harvesting—I've relayed the installation instructions to S'Hlu and D'Lin. With the equipment, we'll be ready for conversion when the vanguard comes through the portal."

"Shit," said John, looking up at the shimmering blue of the forcefield. It filled the great flaring archway from point to floor. The bridge lay just the other side of it, now an impossible distance away.

"We seem to have the same problem," said a voice in K'Ronarin.

John whirled, reaching for his weapon. Two leveled blasters stopped him. "Who the hell are you?" he said to the two K'Ronarins.

"Give your weapon to the lady, Harrison," said the man. "I'm Captain K'Tran," he said as the woman tucked Guan-Sharick's pistol into her gunbelt. "This is my first officer, Commander A'Tir."

"You're the renegade butchers D'Trelna tangled with off Terra.''

"We prefer to think of ourselves as independent subcontractors," said K'Tran.

"You murdered what? five, six hundred people on that ship you stole? And you fought for the S'Cotar during the war, after which you continued to raid your own people. D'Trelna would call you v'org slime—an understatement." The Terran shook his head. "Well, they said you were audacious. Half the fleet must be looking for you."

The corsair laughed. "No more than a quarter of the fleet, surely. And they certainly won't be searching this quadrant. As for the commodore, he's a fine officer, but he seems to have forgotten the cutthroat nature of free enterprise."

K'Tran held up a hand as John started to speak. "Time is precious, Harrison. I cannot extricate my force from this deadly place unless I help D'Trelna rescue you and recover the commwand sent by Pocsym."

John gestured toward the forcefield. "The commwand's on the bridge."

"What else is on the bridge?" asked K'Tran, carefully inspecting the forcefield.

"T'Lan."

K'Tran hissed softly. "Not good. We know what he did on
Implacable.
Can anything stop him?"

"Not blaster fire," said the Terran. "He's immune."

"What's his relationship to the R'Actolians?" said A'Tir.

"One of command. He appears to have taken control of this slaver," said John. "Some of the key equipment was evidently manufactured by the AIs, recovered by the Empire and installed by R'Actol when she built this ship."

"Can't be," said K'Tran, shaking his head. "R'Actol and her biofabs were Late High Empire—twilight's advent. The AIs predated her by thousands of years. All we have of that time, Harrison, are a few legends, like the AI War and the Nameless Emperor. T'Lan must have been lying."

"Fine, K'Tran," said John. "You explain it. Better yet"—he jerked his head toward the bridge—"go debate it with T'Lan."

"We'd like to meet T'Lan, actually," said the corsair. "Assuming he commands here, perhaps we can be of some assistance in return for our freedom—and the elimination of
Implacable.''

John wanted to bash the smirk from K'Tran's face—an impulse restrained by the large bore of A'Tir's blaster holding steady on his belt buckle. "You're a real foul slime, K'Tran," said the Terran.

"Loyalty's not one of my few virtues," said K'Tran. "Unless you can get us past that shield, Harrison, you're of no further use to this mission."

It must have been a cue A'Tir had taken many times. Her safety clicked off before K'Tran had finished speaking.

John held out a hand. "I'll need my weapon back," he said.

"Such a sense of humor," said K'Tran. Reaching out, he plucked the weapon from A'Tir's belt. "If this will get us through the shield, I'll use it. First, a small test." He pointed the diminutive pistol at John.

"Go ahead," said the Terran. "It'll kill you—I'd enjoy that."

John fell to his knees clutching his head at a sudden, searing pain.

"A'Tir!" said K'Tran sharply as she raised the blaster barrel to strike again. "Enough."

Lowering the pistol, she pulled John to his feet, a hand to his arm.

"Why and how will this kill me?" asked the corsair.

"No idea," said John, wincing as he touched the welt behind his right ear. "Use it and find out."

Busy examining the weapon, K'Tran seemed to only half hear the Terran. He was frowning at the heraldic device on the grips. "I believe you," he said, looking up. He handed the weapon to John. Puzzled, the Terran took it.

"You can put your blaster away, A'Tir," said K'Tran quietly.

She looked at him, startled. "But
..."

"Use it, Harrison," said the corsair. With a strange sense of serenity, John turned, aimed and fired.

No crash of blaster fire, no explosion of bullets. But the bottom half of the bridge shield was gone. Seemingly unaffected, the top portion hung there, severed but shimmering.

"Impossible," said A'Tir, staring.

"Possible," said John.

"Let's go!" K'Tran called. From around the corner, the rest of the corsairs came on the run, rifles at the ready.

K'Tran drew his side arm. "After you, Harrison."

John stepped under the shield, turning as K'Tran called "Forward!"

The shield restored itself with a faint hum, stopping K'Tran and his crew inches from the shimmering barrier.

A few meters from John, K'Tran fired, face twisting in anger.

The shield devoured the blaster bolts, dissipating them in sudden splotches of red.

With a jaunty wave of his hand, middle finger upraised, John turned and set off briskly down the corridor.

R'Gal stirred, opened his eyes and sat up very slowly, legs swinging over the edge of the medcot. "Where am I?" he said to the tall, thin man attentively watching him.

"Sick Bay," said the other. "I'm Q'Nil, Senior Medtech.

"How do you feel, Colonel?" Q'Nil glanced at a lifescan, set in the foot of the cot.

"Like I took a missile salvo in the head," said R'Gal, rubbing his temples. "What happened?"

"The S'Cotar found you before you found it," said K'Raoda, stepping forward. He'd been standing unseen in a corner.

The colonel shook his head, then stopped, eyes closed in pain. "Occupational hazard," he said, opening his eyes. "The last thing I remember, I was on the lifepod deck with the Terran woman
..."

"Tal?" said K'Raoda sharply.

"Tal," said the colonel. "I had reason to believe . . . no, that's not right. I sensed S'Cotar traces up among the lifepods. We were checking the lifepods out. Then I woke up here."

"Take this," said Q'Nil, handing R'Gal a cup of chalk-colored liquid. "It'll help."

"We lost a lifepod about the time you must have been searching," said K'Raoda. "And Tal is missing. Were you searching the same lifepod?"

"No," said R'Gal, handing the empty cup to Q'Nil. "She was checking the even numbers, I was checking the odd. Anything from D'Trelna?" he added.

"Nothing," said K'Raoda.

"Are you aware, Colonel," he continued, "that ship's computer is being subverted by a stasis algorithm?" R'Gal frowned. "Supposedly, there's no such thing."

"You've heard of it, then?" said K'Raoda. "Yes."

"And do you believe it?" asked K'Raoda.

R'Gal smiled. "I'm a sensitive who hunts tall, green telepathic insectoids, Commander. It requires an open mind. What is this stasis algorithm doing to ship's computer?"

"Making it try to kill us through wild alterations in life systems' parameters."

R'Gal looked around. The complink status light glowed green, the diagnostic panel flickered with activity. "Not here," he said.

"Not yet," said Q'Nil. "It's a bit disappointing—we don't seem to be a priority."

"It's also after the command, control and communications systems," said K'Raoda. "Neutralizing them for later takeover."

"It's that damned slaver computer, isn't it?" said the colonel. He stood, ignoring Q'Nil's outstretched hand.

"How did you know about Egg?" said K'Raoda.

"Egg?" said R'Gal.

"For its shape," said K'Raoda. "How did you know about it? You'd left the bridge by the time it arrived."

"There's not much you can hide from a CIC officer," said R'Gal. "And if we ever get out of this
..."

"Not very likely," said Q'Nil, turning off the medcot's monitor.

"If we get out of this," continued R'Gal, "whoever brought that machine on board and then activated it without authorization . . . I'll tell you, K'Raoda, I'd rather not be in his extra large uniform."

"About the stasis algorithm
..."
began K'Raoda.

"Look, Commander," said R'Gal. "I've felt better, I'm tired and there's nothing I can do about the stasis algorithm. Could we continue this after I get some rest?"

"Just one small thing you could do first, sir," said the commander.

"What?"

"Give me either the stasis algorithm or its antidote," he said, as if asking for t'ata.

R'Gal was silent for a moment, then he sat down on the bed. "What is it you think you know, Commander?"

K'Raoda nodded to Q'Nil. Opening a drawer, the medtech removed two large transparencies and handed them to R'Gal.

The colonel looked at them for a moment, compared them, then gave them back. "Is this a game?"