The AI War (3 page)

A wide hole blossomed in the glass. Taking a helping hand from the shuttle, KTran leaped aboard, the updraft tousling his hair. The lock closed behind him.

"Status?" he asked.

"Last shuttle's loading now, Captain," said the big red-bearded corsair. The two men stood alone in the cargo bay. They grabbed for the crashbars as the shuttle rose and banked.

"And those cruisers?"

"We'll be gone before they're in range."

A moment later and they were on the ship's cavernous hangar deck. KTran jumped out as the lock cycled open, and ran past crew hastily unloading white duraplast shipping containers.

Reaching the bridge, he stepped to the main screen and its view of STakport. The last shuttle was coming in, the combat cars following.

"Enemy disposition, A'Tir?" he asked his first officer.

"Coming in like the Wrath of S'Halak," said the slight brunette, watching her telltales. "Their shields are up, all transmissions are highspeed and battlecoded. Computer identifies as two PTan-class heavy cruisers and a R'Sal-class command dreadnought."

KTran looked over her shoulder at the tactical readouts. "R'Sal class." He nodded, impressed. "That one alone could wipe us."

"All shuttles are berthed, all combat cars secured," reported K'Lal, the third officer.

"Atmospheric fighters approaching," said A'Tir, pointing at the telltale to her left. A phalanx of lavender crosses were moving across her left telltale. K'Tran read the intercept projection, then took the captain's chair.

"Upshield, upship," he ordered. "Stand by all batteries, A'Tir, but don't jettison camouflage."

"Lifting ship," said A'Tir, engaging n-gravs.

The cruiser rose silently, S'Takport shrinking on the screen. "Coming within range of port defenses," said K'Lal. "They're waiting for us with all shields up."

"Detonate series one blastpaks," ordered K'Tran.

A circle of small, mushroom-shaped clouds sprouted around the port as preplanted charges atomized fifteen missile and fusion batteries.

"Give me forward tacscan, A'Tir," said K'Tran.

She entered a command, fingers flying over her keyboard. The green hills of S'Tak vanished from the main screen, replaced by a tri-dee tacscan of surrounding space. A profusion of green blips were moving out from the luminous white orb representing S'Tak. Farther out, beyond the third of the system's five planets, three red blips were coming in—headed for S'Tak much faster than the green blips were leaving it.

Computer had flagged
Victory Day
yellow. It lay closest to the planet, moving toward the green blips.

"We spooked lots of traffic," said A'Tir. "Looks like every ship insystem's heading for jump point, trying to get clear of any fighting."

K'Tran nodded. "Let's join up. Plot for jump point, but keep our speed that of a respectable old agro freighter." He turned to K'Lal. "What's the civilian commtalk?"

"Confusion. Questions directed at those Fleet units. Wild rumors." The young corsair smiled. "According to the latest, S'Tak was just taken by a S'Cotar nest."

K'Tran shook his head. "How did those idiots win the war?"

"Add our voice to the confusion, K'Lal."

"Task force commander is calling Planetary Defense Command," said A'Tir, head slightly cocked as she listened to the thin, distant voices in her earjack. "Current sector PDC code, which we have."

"Asking for an update and our description?"

"Yes. Time for series two?"

He nodded. "We don't want our description out till after we jump."

She entered a second remote firing command and pushed Execute.

"Shut up!" snapped Commodore A'Wal.

The Planetary Guard officer shut up, face reddening.

"I don't care about your pissy little port, Major," said A'Wal. He leaned forward in the flag chair, thrusting his large, squarish face into the pickup. "I care about K'Tran. Tacscan shows ships everywhere. Some are headed for jump point, some for your sister planet, some for those two moons.

"K'Tran's ship is undoubtedly camouflaged. I need a complete description to distinguish it from the merchanters. You will provide that description, Major. Now." He leaned back in the flag chair, waiting. Around him, the dreadnought's bridge bustled with activity.

"Yes, sir." The major looked down at something outside the pickup. "We'll transmit a complete recording of the corsair and the raid."

"You couldn't shoot them, but you took their picture?" said A'Wal, incredulous.

The major nodded miserably.

"Send it over," sighed the commodore. He looked at J'San. "Captain, give the—officer—on five channel a new datacom freq—"

The screen with the major on it went blank. As A'Wal watched, a line of text flashed onto the bottom:
CARRIER FAILURE
.

"J'San," said the commodore, "I've lost that idiot. Get her back, please." The captain ignored him, intent on a readout. "We're receiving a satellite scan of S'Takport, Commodore," she said. "Coming up on main screen."

A'Wal looked up. S'Takport's control spire was now a scattered pile of burning debris. Nearby, across a shattered access road, a huge crater smoldered, almost obscured by a layer of thick, black smoke.

"Planetary Defense Command and Guard Headquarters," said J'San.

"He must have infiltrated their security and blastpaked it, maybe months ago," said A'Wal. "Then blew it up with his usual exquisite timing."

No one asked who
he
was.

"Well, the slime's not out of this yet," said A'Wal. "Let's see if we can flush him."

"All-ships order from task force commander," said A'Tir. "All ships to rendezvous with task force for inspection."

"Fine." K'Tran glanced at the plot. "Make for the rendezvous. We should be one of the first there."

"They're scattering like m'arka hens!" said Captain J'San, staring at the screen. All but a few ships were fleeing the task force, heading outsystem at max. "Why? There's only one corsair."

A'Wal ran a tired hand over his eyes. "I should have remembered. This is a drugger system—always has been. They grow and refine heavy duty stuff down on S'Tak, then jump it out all over the Confederation. Climate and location are ideal. Small garrison—not enough to control it."

"All of those ships are druggers?" said J'San, looking at the screen.

A'Wal nodded. "Probably all have at least some contraband, stashed with regular cargo. Retails at three, four hundred credits a shot in some combine slum.

"Divide the task force, Captain. Intercept as many as possible."

"What about the ships coming to rendezvous?"

"Proof of innocence," said the commodore. "Let's get after the others—we may get lucky."

"There they go," said K'Tran, watching the tacscan. The three Fleet ships were scattering, headed out on complex intercept vectors.

"Rendezvous and inspection order cancelled," said K'Lal.

K'Tran stood, stretching. "Well done, all. K'Lal, make for jump point. Ploddingly."

'"Acknowledged."

'"A'Tir, my quarters now—let's see what's on this." He held up the commwand B'Rol had given him. Together, they left the bridge.

Clearing jump point, Admiral S'Gan watched as the system-wide tacscan came up on the board. It looked like a training exercise: three Fleet vessels busily pursuing a score of slower moving craft. "Get me Commodore A'Wal."

She interrupted his report. "K'Tran is one of the law-abiding ships now moving toward jump point, Commodore." She'd been watching the screen as A'Wal spoke. "There are eleven of them. We are eight. Priority blue plot those ships nearest your force. Once you've determined intercept vectors, order each of those vessels to rendezvous with one of our ships."

A'Wal saw it. "And whichever one runs
..."

"Is the corsair."

"He can jump at any time, though."

S'Gan shook her head. "He won't. He'll go for optimum. I know K'Tran well." Before the war, for about two years, K'Tran had been one of S'Gan's captains—her best captain.

"I should have seen it," said A'Wal.

S'Gan allowed herself a bit of compassion. "Don't blame yourself, H'Lor. K'Tran's one of the finest tacticians to ever graduate from the Academy. Hell, he fought far inside S'Cotar space for seven years—and prospered. He thinks three moves ahead of everyone else."

"By all reports, a very competent commander," said A'Wal stiffly.

"Yes. Now let's go kill him."

K'Tran gave a low whistle. "The Trel Cache."

"Pre-Fall myth, isn't it?" said A'Tir.

"Pre-Fall," nodded K'Tran. He leaned back in his chair, fingertips pressed thoughtfully together. "The Trel were the masters of much of this galaxy, perhaps a million years ago. They had it all, A'Tir—hyperdrive, interstellar matter transmission, limited psi powers." He tapped the screen. "At least according to Imperial survey, as faithfully recorded by Poesym. And
Implacable's
going in after it."

"How many jumps?"

He called up another part of the specs. Reading it, he shook his head. "Our client couldn't get the last two jump sets. We're to folllow her from the last known position."

A'Tir laughed mirthlessly. "We do that, we'll be spotted and wiped. Just like the Trel."

"Yes." K'Tran frowned. Twelve years together and she'd never shown anything but a cursory knowledge of Imperial culture and history. "You've read about the Trel?"

"It's in ship's computer," she said. "I came across it on a file run, just after we took over."

Took over: killing the crew, they'd seized
Victory Day
as it stood off Terra. The cruiser was the latest from the yards of Combine T'Lan—a sleek, gray killer almost as deadly as stasis-found Imperial ships like
Implacable.

"This ship was going to join D'Trelna," said K'Tran, reaching for the complink. "How's the file logged?"

" 'Mission Summary,' " she said, stepping around the desk to look at the screen.

K'Tran pushed a small, green button. "Computer, last logged Mission Summary. Enter to screen and scroll."

A'Tir read over K'Tran's shoulder as the unical green script rolled down the screen. K'Tran skimmed the text until a long series of jump coordinates appeared. "Freeze," he said. The scrolling stopped. "Comparison screen—jump coordinates just entered from commwand, this terminal, with those now on screen."

The Mission Summary had two extra sets of coordinates. Otherwise they were identical.

K'Tran leaned back, nodding. "We've got the full run. We can be waiting for D'Trelna instead of trying to follow
Implacable
through"—he counted—"twenty-five jumps."

He looked up at her. "Well done, Number One."

The commlink chirped. K'Lai's worried face appeared on the scan.

"What?" said K'Tran.

"Five heavy cruisers have just cleared jump point," said the second officer. "They're moving insystem at flank."

"Any ID?"

"S'Gan's personal squadron." K'Tran swore. "We're on our way."

Admiral S'Gan was on the bridge—a rarity. She stood to Captain Y'Kor's right, watching the tacscan come up on the main screen. "There he goes," she said as a single point of yellow suddenly sped toward jump point.

Y'Kor punched up a projection. "Probability of intercept: twenty-eight percent," he said. "He's way out."

"Get me
Glory Run,
please," she said, turning to her station.

"Captain T'Lak," she said to the round face in her screen, "the corsair will reach jump point before we can intercept. Your vessel has an unmodified Imperial jump drive, doesn't it?"

T'Lak was prematurely bald. Perhaps as compensation he'd grown a beard: black, neatly trimmed and flecked with gray. The beard bobbed as he nodded. "Mark Seventeen—late High Imperial drive. Want us to tight-jump him?"

"Yours is the only ship present that can jump intrasystem,

Captain. But it's only a thought—not even a suggestion. The decision is yours."

Imperial engineering remained unequaled. Toward the end, five thousand years before, the Empire had stasis cached some of its warships. During the S'Cotar War, many of those ships—
Implacable
and
Glory Run
among them—had been found and pressed into service, virtually untouched. Only the old Imperial drives could jump insystem—at some risk. About a third of all tight-jumping ships emerged either as scattering fragments or not at all.

"I'll meet him at jump point, Admiral," said T'Lak, "all batteries firing."

"Jump at will, Captain," said S'Gan. "Luck," she added as the image disappeared.

"They're not pursuing," said A'Tir, reading a telltale. "Intercept probability's too low." They were almost at jump point. ,

"Not like her," said K'Tran, "just to sit there and watch us slip away." He stared at the screen for a moment, watching the red points designating the Fleet units. "Computer," he said, "enemy jump drives. Are any of them Imperial?"

"Not a programmed category," said computer in its asexual contralto.

"The hardware gets better, the programming gets worse," said A'Tir, eyes still on those eight red points.

"Computer," said K'Tran hurriedly, "advise if any enemy vessel has five jump transponder nodules along the engine hull."

"One vessel has that configuration," reported computer. "Current jump point deviation?" asked K'Tran. "Eight percent of ideal," said A'Tir. "Let's do it now. Stand by to jump."

"Ready to jump," said K'Lal after a moment.

"Initiate on my command," said K'Tran. He punched into the commnet. "Gunnery."

"Gunnery," said a voice from his chairarm.

"Listen, Commodore, she—"

"No!" snapped D'Trelna. "You listen."

The young officer closed his mouth, staring fixedly past D'Trelna at the armorglass and the swirl of alien stars beyond.

"You've requested I review the captain's decision in this . . . incident," said D'Trelna, temper ebbing. "That's

"Fire a full shipbuster salvo, tight-grouped, at our initial jump point. Take your mark from the navheading—fire when set."

"Missiles away," said the voice a moment later.