The AI War (23 page)

When it came again, he willed it to stay. It blinked twice, then was gone again.

I see it, Harrison.
It was Guan-Sharick.
We'll seize it together this time and follow it home.

When it came the third time, John felt the strength flow into him—strength that seized the light in wispy tendrils of blue and let it tug them toward an even larger light—a cold white light that grew closer and brighter, filling his mind, searing it.

Something snapped the connection. John was back in the satellite, rubbing his eyes, head hurting.

"Epsilon sector, red four nine," said Lan-Asal, scribbling figures on a notepad.

John and Zahava looked at each other. "Was that you helping me?" he asked.

"It was all of us, Harrison," said Guan-Sharick, looking at the coordinates. "All of us." The pale white face was flushed with success. "We've done it—found the Trel Cache. Now—"

An alarm beeped. Both S'Cotar turned to the consoles. "Too late," said Lan-Asal, shoulders sagging in defeat. "Their vanguard is here."

"It's never too late," said Guan-Sharick, with a defiant toss of long blonde hair. "We have the coordinates—let's go."

Briefly filled with life, the satellite was empty again.

* * * *

"Never make it," said R'Gal. "Your shield's breaking up." The AI stood beside D'Trelna, looking at the outside scan. The shield's normal white shimmer was pockmarked with red blotches as beams and missiles from the battleglobes tore at it.

Implacable
continued to advance, pouring a steady fire at the center battleglobe. The AI ship took it, thousands of miles of intricately layered shields absorbing the energy, efficiently adding it to its own reserves.

"They'll punch through before we can finish our suicide run," said L'Wrona. The captain stood to the other side of D'Trelna's chair, eyes on the screen.

D'Trelna looked down at the tactical plot, then back at the shield. "I see no alternatives," he said, fingers drumming the chairarm. "Do either of you?"

Neither said anything.

The commlink beeped. "You gentlemen want to kiss the shield good-bye?" said N'Trol's voice. "I give it a fifty count."

"Thank you, Engineer," said the commodore, eyes still on the screen. The entire shield was shading over into a sullen red, the beam hit points glowing a fierce white.

"Commodore," said K'Lana, "the rally signal
..."

"Keep transmitting it," he said.

"It's being acknowledged—priority alpha one!"

The task force swept out of the asteroid belt, soaring up to attack the battleglobes, missiles fanning out ahead of them.

D'Trelna was out of his chair. "Who the . . ."

"I came looking for K'Tran, but this'll do," said a familiar voice. S'Gan's face swept the bridge, peering from a dozen comm screens.

"Admiral!" said D'Trelna, sinking back into his chair.

"D'Trelna," she nodded. "Looks like your invasion prophecy's fulfilled. An advance force?"

"Yes, Admiral," said D'Trelna. Outside, the shield was cooling back into white as the battleglobes engaged S'Gan's squadron.

"I think we're close enough to hurt them," she said. "I've alerted Fleet. No way they'll get here in—"

The second ship in her squadron exploded, a billowing cloud of evanescent orange-red gas, quickly gone. The ship ahead of it plowed into the center battleglobe, a small silver mote suddenly blossoming into a fireball a thousand times its original size.

K'Raoda increased screen magnification. The battleglobe seemed to leap into the screen, its energy web merely a thin haze now. Through it they saw a world of battlesteel: turrets, pods and generators that seemed to go on forever, broken only by the occasional blunt of towers and domes.

"A ship forged by hate when man was young," said R'Gal softly.

There was a deep, black crater in the battleglobe's center. As her two companions moved forward, she pulled back, slowly returning the way she'd come.

The incoming missiles caught her, sixty-two multimegaton shipbusters wrapping the wounded battleglobe in all-consuming flame.

"Gods of my fathers!" exclaimed D'Trelna, throwing a hand across his eyes as a miniature sun devoured the battleglobe.

The screen went dark, the blast burning out
Implacable’s
 
scanners.

"One," said Admiral S'Gan, her face now only on D'Trelna's personal comm screen.

The two remaining battleglobes continued to advance, directing a withering fire against S'Gan's remaining ships. The distance separating the two forces was down to a paltry half a million miles, with neither side showing any inclination to break off.
Implacable
now lagged far behind the action, limping on two-thirds power.

"Incoming signal, Fleet covert operations channel," said K'Lana.

"I'll take it," said D'Trelna, punching open his commlink. "Identify."

"We've accounted for the surviving Combine ships that cut and ran," said K'Tran. "Now listen—divert those battleglobes into epsilon red four eight. The spacejunk's very thick there—-we have a surprise waiting for them."

"You're speaking for the mindslaver, K'Tran?" asked D'Trelna, watching the board as two more of S'Gan's ships dissolved. There was only one left now:
Deliverance,
S'Gan's flagship. As the commodore watched, the flagship broke off, pulling away at a right angle to the battleglobe.

"D'Trelna, in tactical matters, I am the mindslaver. It's the only time they've allowed my own identity."

There was an undercurrent of despair in the brainstripped corsair's voice. D'Trelna felt sympathy welling within him. Then memory of
Implacables
hangar deck heaped with bodies banished it.

"Epsilon red four eight, D'Trelna—it's your only chance." The commlink ended with a faint hiss.

"We can't trust him," said L'Wrona after D'Trelna quickly repeated the conversation.

The commodore shrugged. "We have no other option."

He turned to K'Lana. "Battleburst code to S'Gan: 'Follow me, epsilon red four eight.'

"Mr. K'Raoda, make for epsilon red four eight," ordered the commodore. "May something be there besides rock."

They stood inside a hollow diamond, surrounded by infinitely regressive reflections of themselves, two in K'Ronarin uniform, two in white jumpsuits. John closed his eyes, then opened them, trying to restore the sense of perspective stolen by the endless multi-faceted images that danced at the least movement.

"Where are we?" said Zahava, squinting in the wan blue light.

"Is this it?" asked John, turning to Guan-Sharick.

"This is the Trel Cache," said Guan-Sharick, nodding. ' 'Just as an Imperial Survey party found it—a party under my command."

"You're a person of many talents, Guan-Sharick," said a dry, faintly amused voice. There was no telling from where it came.

"Hello, Eldest," said Guan-Sharick.

"Eldest?" said Zahava.

"The guardian of the Trel Cache," said Guan-Sharick.

"But not just a guardian," said the voice. "I gather data, sift it, glean what I can, and store it."

"What sort of data?" asked John.

In answer, his reflection faded from one of the facets, replaced by the image of a gaunt, black uniformed man in his sixties, talking with John. It was nighttime, trees all about, with other, indistinct figures moving nearby. The older man held a pistol; John held a vicious-looking machine pistol.

"Are you familiar with the classical concept of an
umphalos,
Major?" asked the other, reloading his pistol and slipping it into a pocket.

"Hochmeister," said John, staring at the image. "On Terra Two. But how
..."

"As I said, I gather data."

"The guardian is omniscient," said Guan-Sharick. "At least by our standards."

"And this . . . data," said Zahava. "Where do you record it? And why?"

"It's all here, in this chamber," said the voice. "Etched into the molecules of this glittering artifact. The knowledge of a great people, the Trel, what befell them—and what followed: the Revolt, the Empire, the Biofab War, Hochmeister and Terra Two.

"It's been some time, Guan-Sharick," continued the voice.

"Three thousand years, more or less, Eldest, since I last stood here," said Guan-Sharick.

"Three thousand years!" John whispered to Zahava. She shook her head.

"You're in trouble, aren't you?" said the voice.

The blonde nodded. "The Rift has opened, Eldest. Your foe and mine, the Fleet of the One, is on its way to crush us. We have little that can stand against them."

"And you have come for
...
?" prompted the voice.

"The weapon of which we spoke, so long ago."

"I must tell you," said the voice gently, "that you may not have that weapon."

Guan-Sharick stepped back as though struck. "But, Eldest . . . !"

"The weapon we used against the AIs, if used again, would cause an irreversible chain reaction, exponentially converting all matter to antimatter, obliterating this and the AIs ' universe."

"But when I was here before, you said nothing
..."

"New data came to light subsequent to our conversation," said the voice. "Impressive, longitudinal, physical data."

"Eldest," said the S'Cotar, hands spread, "plans were made and implemented based on our conversation. Dynasties, cultures, whole civilizations have been manipulated in anticipation that I would come here and that you would give me the weapon, and that that, together with an aroused and militant people, would defeat the AIs. We cannot defeat the Fleet of the One without the weapon."

John had to admire the S'Cotar: thirty centuries of planning in shambles, yet it pressed its case logically, passionately.

"Eldest, we must have the weapon."

"How would you get it? Violence?" said the voice. "Only a part of the outpost is in this continuum. And you have my word—the weapon was destroyed, long ago."

Guan-Sharick sighed, head bowing in defeat. "Eldest, you've just spoken our epitaph."

"Perhaps," said the voice.

The blonde raised her head. "We'll go and face them, then, ship to ship, being to being, as we did at the start."

"Wait," commanded the voice. "Do you recall when the AIs the Empire created revolted? The so-called Machine Wars?"

"Vividly," said the S'Cotar. "I died in that revolt."

"And the emperor then?"

"S'Yal," said Guan-Sharick.

"Correct. S'Yal first sent the Twelfth Fleet to crush the revolt. They were using a new jump system that had been extensively tested, but never in a single transfer involving so many massed ships."

"The Twelfth Fleet of the House of S'Yal jumped," said Guan-Sharick, "and was never seen or heard of again."

"That fleet exists," said the voice, "suspended in time through a small error in jump field mechanics. A device has been made that will correct that error and recall the Twelfth Fleet."

"Where is this device?" said Guan-Sharick intently.

"According to communications I've monitored," said the voice, "the prototype exists in the research labs of Combine T'Lan. They've created it as a jump-navigation aid, but with a few minor modifications it should recall the Twelfth Fleet."

"You can provide those modifications, Eldest?"

"I've already done so. They're logged into
Implacable'
's engineering archives."

"And if it doesn't work?" said Lan-Asal.

There was a pause. "There is one other device. But the way to that is unknown."

"Explain," said Guan-Sharick.

"After the disasters of the Machine Wars, Fleet and Guard revolted, overthrowing S'Yal. He retreated to a hidden citadel, deep beneath K'Ronar. Fleet found and bombarded that citadel. If those inside weren't killed directly, they certainly never escaped—the bombardment sealed that fortress within the earth."

"So?" said the blonde, frowning.

"S'Yal had with him a just-completed device to overcome the jump field irregularities, a device that would have recalled the Twelfth Fleet, had the emperor had time to use it. Which he didn't."

"And this citadel is where?" said Lan-Asal.

"Somewhere between Prime Base and the capital," said the voice. "I couldn't determine the precise point—Fleet bombarded seven different zones around the city and the base. I've placed the locations and a full history of the action in
Implacable
's archives."

Angry and vengeful, the AIs pursued the two K'Ronarin ships into the asteroid belt, their screens cutting great swaths through the rocky flotsam, absorbing the useful heavy metals, burning off the rest.

"When we were on Terra, H'Nar," said D'Trelna, watching the rear scan, "do you remember seeing the ice breakers keeping the sea lanes open?"

"Vladivostok," said the captain, also watching the rear scan. "I see what you mean—same principle, but far more efficient.''

"Battlecode burst from the admiral," said K'Lana. "She wants to know how much longer—they're gaining."

D'Trelna glanced at the readout threading across the bottom of the tacscan. "This is the place. Tell her any time now."

The spacemines triggered just after
Deliverance
passed. There was no one of this epoch who could have appreciated the artistry of their construction. They were originally Imperial Mangier Class Fours—top of the line, their design improved by the R'Actolians, through long centuries of molecular tinkering. The Manglers looked and scanned like rock because they were rock—of a very special element rendered highly unstable when touched by a shield matrix. The stronger the matrix field, the more unstable and dramatic the reaction.

The explosions washed over the battleglobes, briefly obscuring them from scan. When the nuclear flames faded, the two monster craft could be seen, drifting, shields dimmed.

"Hurt, but not dead," said R'Gal to D'Trelna. "Now what?"

Alpha Prime
swept in toward the battleglobes, then turned away, releasing two flights of six silver missiles. Beams snapped after her as the battleglobes slowly began moving.