The AI War (21 page)

For Zahava it was all automatic—aim, fire, turn. Aim, fire, turn. Watching the sky, she only looked around her when the firing stopped and the air was empty of gleaming blue blades.

She and Major L'Kor stared numbly at each other across the carnage. The rooftop lay littered with the torn bodies of dead troopers and the smoldering remains of their killers. Blood trickled among the blaster marks scorching the green duraplast, dripping into the rain gutters.

The Terran touched something sticky on her forehead— blood from a shallow gash. "Are we the only
..."
she began.

"Except for S'Lat, who's inside with the children," nodded the major. His left arm was useless, the triceps neatly sliced and cauterized by a blaster bolt. He was holding one of the two Mil A pistols Zahava had taken from the lifepod.

"Go down with the children," he said, clumsily trying to change chargpaks. The empty fell to the rooftop.

"Ass," said the Terran. "Give me that." She held out a hand for the Mil A. L'Kor grinned weakly, handing it over. Deftly, Zahava took a fresh chargpak from her belt and snapped it into the butt, then returned the weapon.

"How many did we get?" she asked.

"Thirty, maybe forty," said the major.
"I
don't think they had many more of them." He looked at the sky. "What next?"

"Shuttles, probably," said Zahava, reloading her own weapon. "They underestimated us once—they won't do it again. They'll stand off and blast us. They really want those kids."

"Well, they're not going to get them," said L'Kor. Tucking the blaster into his belt, he took a flat, metal device with a single toggle switch in its center. "Here," he said, handing it to Zahava. "When it's inevitable, throw the switch." He looked up at the sky, eyes carefully avoiding his dead friends.

"Are you certain G'Sol told you nothing about where the tube entrance is?" she asked.

"No," he said dully. "My fault. I should have—"

"My, this is a grim sight," said a new voice. "Praetorians on the Capitoline, awaiting the End. Perhaps I can be of some help."

"They're close enough now, H'Nar," said D'Trelna, watching the board. "Well past halfway. They'll need to slow, turn, reaccelerate." He nodded. "Tell N'Trol."

In a moment the engineer's voice filled the bridge, counting down slowly from twenty.

"Gunnery," D'Trelna said into the commnet as the count dropped, "I want that ship intact. Disable, do not destroy. You got that B'Tul?"

"Acknowledged," said the master gunner.

Will it ever end? wondered D'Trelna, awaiting the jump— these deathless monsters from the past, some of our own making? Biofabs, mindslavers, AIs. Seven, no, eight years in this great gray cocoon. Battle after battle, crisis after crisis. Friends dead, family old, children growing up unseen-—images flickering in the comm screen and voices broken with distortion, straining to span the abyss.

"Ten," droned N'Trol.

"Final orders?" requested L'Wrona formally.

"Engage as directed," said D'Trelna.

"Jump," said N'Trol.

Reality twisted, breaking
Implacable
into something that wasn't quite matter and moving it halfway across the solar system, where, more by luck than planning, it reassembled ship and crew.

Stomach churning, D'Trelna recovered to watch the fusion batteries neatly strip the Combine ship of its shield nodules and weapons batteries.

"Who is this?" said Major L'Kor, pointing at the blonde.

"This, Major," said Zahava, "is Guan-Sharick, late Illusion Master of the Infinite Hosts of the Magnificent. Guan-Sharick, Major L'Kor, of the One Hundred and Third Border Battalion. Guan-Sharick is actually a six foot tall, telekinetic green bug," she added.

"A biofab," said L'Kor, looking curiously at the flaxen hair, soft green eyes, and the swell of breasts beneath the jumpsuit. "Hard to believe."

"I know where the tube entrance is," said the S'Cotar, gaze shifting between the two humans. "And I'll guide you there—for a price."

Movement caught Zahava's eye; she looked up. Three black specks were approaching out of the eastern sky. L'Kor and Guan-Sharick followed her gaze.

"Armed shuttles from the AI ships," said the S'Cotar. "Decision time."

"What's the price?" asked Zahava.

"Your help," said Guan-Sharick quickly. "I need your help, Zahava, just for a little while."

The Terran glanced back at the sky. The outlines of shuttles were now distinguishable and growing larger.

"As usual, you leave no other options," she said, hating the bug, yet admiring its cleverness. Zahava shrugged. "Whatever you want. Just get the—"

The S'Cotar and the two humans were gone, leaving the roof to the dead and the growing whine of incoming shuttles.

' 'The commodore should not be exposing himself to—'' said L'Wrona.

"Best get back to the bridge, H'Nar," said D'Trelna, checking his blaster again. "You've no warsuit."

Snaring the smaller ship in its tractors,
Implacable
had drifted in, matching velocities. A boarding tunnel had shot out from the cruiser, fastening itself to the Combine ship's topside forward airlock. Warsuited commandos were now at the other end of the narrow span, slowly cutting through the thick battlesteel of the AI ship's airlock. Looking much like a great silver balloon, D'Trelna watched through
Im-placable's
open airlock, the rest of the commandos waiting behind him, warsuited, rifles in hand.

"I want that ship, H'Nar," said D'Trelna, looking at the captain. "I need hard data. Is R'Gal telling the truth, or is he just an AI plant? What's the extent of the AI penetration of our society? The information will be in that computer bank." He pointed to where blaster beams sparked against the steel. "I want it."

"But—" The captain broke off, touching his communicator. "On my way," he said. "Those Combine ships are closing," he said. "You'll have to be out of there before they're within range. Luck," he said, turning and running for the bridge.

"Luck," D'Trelna called after him.

"We're through, sir!" called a voice. As D'Trelna looked, the airlock's inner door turned an incandescent white, vanishing in a rush of thick, brown smoke. Blaster bolts shot through the smoke, striking the K'Ronarins. The bolts crackled blue along the silver suits, then were gone. Blasting back, the commandos sent a fierce counterbarrage crashing back through the smoke.

"Assault!" shouted D'Trelna, leading the charge into the Combine ship.

They'd told John to keep out of the way; they'd tell him if they heard anything from the planet. He'd tried to read, using the complink in his and Zahava's cabin—it was no good, he couldn't concentrate. As a well-written history of the early Empire scrolled past, he thought again of stealing a shuttle, going down and finding Zahava. Problem was, he couldn't fly the damned thing. Even if he could, where would he go? The bridge hadn't been able to pinpoint the location of the distress signal.

Helpless, frustrated, he rose and paced the living area.

"No balm in Gilead, Harrison?" said Guan-Sharick.

John whirled. The S'Cotar sat in an armchair, legs crossed, smiling.

"I have your wife," continued the blonde before John could speak. "And I need the help of both of you."

"Where is she?" demanded the Terran, advancing on the armchair.

"Safe," said the S'Cotar. The smile was gone. "She's agreed to help—there isn't much time. Will you give me your parole? You won't try to sabotage what I'm doing?"

"What are you doing?" asked John.

"What I'm supposed to do," said the S'Cotar. "Stop the AIs."

"At what cost?" said the Terran, looking into those cold eyes.

"At any cost," said Guan-Sharick.

It took two blastpaks, but they finally punched a hole in the armored doors guarding the Combine ship's bridge. D'Trelna's warsuit took a hit as he stepped through. Firing from the hip, the commodore shot the two human-looking crewmen. He grunted as they exploded in a very satisfying shower of sparks. As more commandos surged into the bridge, D'Trelna looked down at the dead AIs—both wore the uniform of merchant officers, the Combine T'Lan crest on the left shoulder.

There'd been a brief, vicious fire fight at the airlock, D'Trelna losing two commandos. The ten AIs who'd opposed them had fallen to the first blaster volley. The commodore was relieved to see none of the flying blade machines among the enemy—only the androids.

Sending half of his force to secure the rest of the ship, D'Trelna had advanced with the rest down the corridor to the bridge, reaching it unopposed.

The commodore's communicator beeped. "What?" he said, walking to the captain's station.

"You'll have to get out of there now, J'Quel," said L'Wrona. "They're coming within range."

"Just a moment," said the commodore. Slipping off his gauntlets, he fingered the complink. It was the standard model used on merchant ships—unchanged since his trader days. Working quickly, he called up the complete mission summary and background briefing, flagging them for highspeed transmission on a Fleet data frequency.

He touched his communicator.
''Implacable,
D'Trelna. Stand by to receive databurst, your alpha data channel." Hearing the acknowledgment, he pushed Execute.

"None left, Commodore." It was Lieutenant S'Til, standing in the shattered doorway, the big blastrifle balanced over her shoulder.

"You mean you didn't find any more, or you did and they're dead?"

"They're dead," she said.

"Good," nodded D'Trelna. He looked back at the console-—the transmission had ended, the receive light was winking green.

"Something else, sir," said S'Til.

He looked up. "What?"

"Brainpods," she said. "The hold is filled with brainpods."

"All occupied?"

"Yes."

D'Trelna nodded slowly, picking up his gauntlets. "That should do it—let's go home. Everyone back to
Implacable.''
"And the brainpods?"

"Leave them."

John had been teleported by a S'Cotar before—he still found it staggering. One second, and he was standing in his quarters, looking down at Guan-Sharick; the next, he stood blinking in some dim cavern, heart pounding, adrenaline surging through his body. Peering about, he saw that the light came from around a bend of what was a great round tunnel, carved through bedrock.

"Where are we?" he demanded, voice sounding hoarse.

"About half a mile down—the remains of an old tube system of D'Lin," said the blonde. "The metal was scavenged after the Fall." She pointed to old gouges along the walls and floor. "Now pull yourself together, and we'll go visit your wife and the kids."

"Kids?" said the Terran as the S'Cotar led the way around the bend.

John threw his hands over his face as battletorch beams blinded him. Then he found himself clutching a warm, buxom body. Zahava.

"You're okay?" he asked, holding her at arm's length, looking her up and down.

"Of course," she said, kissing him.

It was then that he saw the children sitting along the walls, silent, watching. And the other S'Cotar.

"We still have time to get away," said L'Wrona. He and D'Trelna stood in front of the big board, watching the tactical plot. The Combine ships were coming in at flank. "They'll be launching missiles soon," he continued when the commodore didn't reply. "The shield—"

"We stand," said D'Trelna, turning from the board. "If we don't, they'll finish whatever hellish business they were doing down there." He sat down in his chair and dialed up a fata.

"If we stand," said L'Wrona softly, "we die."

D'Trelna sipped and shrugged. "We've cheated death a long time now, H'Nar."

"Excuse me, Commodore," said K'Raoda. "Commtorps launched. Ninety-nine point eight percent chance they'll hit jump before they can be intercepted."

"Thank you, T'Lei," said D'Trelna. He looked back at the captain. "Everything's in those torps, H'Nar. Fleet will be warned—they'll smoke Combine T'Lan and continue the search for the Trel Cache."

"Wrong," said a different voice. Both men turned. R'Gal stood behind the commodore's chair. "You underestimate the depth of infiltration, gentlemen. Combine T'Lan's influence is pervasive. Your report will either be dismissed or lost, Commodore. Your only hope is to break off now, jump for K'Ronar, and sound the alarm."

"My God!" said John, looking down the tunnel. "What are all these kids doing here?"

Zahava explained, precisely and clinically.

"Why are the AIs ripping off brains?" asked John, turning to where the two S'Cotar stood next to the D'Linian troopers. They looked up at his question.

"We think," said Guan-Sharick, "that their ships were damaged in some way—computers destroyed. It's the only plausible explanation. The Rift sealed by the Trel has opened—the Fleet of the One can enter this reality at any time—yet they haven't. Perhaps they're awaiting a signal.''

D'Trelna looked at R'Gal for a moment, then nodded slowly. "Maybe. But
..."

"But?" said the AI.

"But I still like to follow my instincts," said the commodore. "My instincts say if we go back, they'll arrest me and disregard our story. My instincts say we stay and fight—then go back."

"If we survive," added L'Wrona, watching the target blips closing on the board.

"Captain L'Wrona," said the commodore, finishing his t'ata, "you will advance and engage the enemy."

"As the commodore orders," said L'Wrona, turning for his post.

A few moments later the battle klaxon sounded as
Implacable
moved out and headed at flank for the center of the enemy formation.

"Who's , . . he?" asked John, pointing to the other S'Cotar.

"Lan-Asal," said the new S'Cotar. "Formerly Exarch Y'Gar of D'Lin."

"Here, too?" said John. "Why did you bother with this world?"

"It's a vital place," said Lan-Asal. "The Trel Cache is somewhere in this system. That's one reason the AIs have made it their base.''

"They haven't found it?" said Zahava.

Guan-Sharick shrugged. "We don't know."