Stephen Berry - Final Assault

"Alert. Alert." The asexual contralto echoed through the command tiers. "Unauthorized departure. Unauthorized departure. L'Aal-class cruiser Implacable is lifting. Implacable is lifting."

FleetOps Command center was a big enclosed pit, deep beneath Prime Base. As the warning died, every eye in the room turned to the admiral, way up on the top tier. "Orders, sir?" said Commodore A'Wal to his right. A'Wal had served under Admiral S'Gan-he knew what she'd have done.

"Alert condition two," said I'Tel. "Base defenses to engage Implacable, picket squadrons to intercept if she escapes." A chime sounded-three repeating notes-the nearest FleetOps ever came to an alert klaxon. "And request Line's assistance," said the admiral. Not that he expected to get it-Line had its own very narrow priorities.

"She's heading for space," said A'Wal. "Batteries opening fire now."

"Excuse me, Admiral," said a soft voice.

I'Tal turned. Councilor D'Assan stood behind him, flanked by the council observers.

"Please do not engage that vessel," he said softly. "I speak for the Council."

"Why in the seven hells not?" whispered the admiral. "She's ours. She's stolen. She can wipe a planet, conquer a system."

"We've shaken public confidence enough this evening, Admiral," said D'Assan serenely. "To add to the Tower fire a massive shoot-out between Prime Base and that ship, debris raining down, civilian casualties, the vidchannels feeding…" He shook his head. "No. Please-have your gunners stand down. You can take her in space."

A'Wal watched as I'Tal thought about it. Up on the screen, the target image was directly over the Base's main defenses.

"Very well," said the admiral, turning to A'Wal. "Batteries to stand down, please, Commodore. Advise Commodore G'Tur that it's all his now."

"They're not firing," said A'Tir, leaning over K'Lal's shoulder.

"Not everyone's a butcher, A'Tir," said N'Trol, coming onto the bridge, a corsair trailing him.

She turned. "Engines and jump drive?" she said.

"Satisfactory." The two faced each other in front of the empty captain's chair. "You can jump-if you make it to jump point."

"I think we can handle the pickets," said

A'Tir, turning to the big board and its tacscan of the inner system. "We'll be well away before they can intercept."

"I wasn't thinking so much of the picket ships," said the engineer as the corsair commander faced him again.

"What, then?"

"Line challenges," called K'Lal. "That," said N'Trol.

"Shall we consult, Admiral?" said Line.

"As prescribed," said L'Guan as he and D'Trelna entered the combat center.

Combat center was in the heart of Line's command asteroid. Seeing it for the first time, D'Trelna thought it looked more like the office of a top Combine executive than part of a military installation: a spacious, high-ceilinged room, with a desk made in the image of a classically simple-yet-elegant t'ata table; two long, off-white sofas along the wall, a pair of low beverage tables in front of them; a small scattering of armchairs around the desk. The wall behind the desk was a diorama of snowcapped peaks ringing a crystal-blue lake. Imperial Survey tapes, noted D'Trelna. Contemporary techniques weren't as sharp.

"Situation?" said L'Guan, sitting on a sofa, facing the diorama. D'Trelna sank into the other sofa.

"A combined crew of corsairs, under former Commander A'Tir, and Implacablites, under Commander N'Trol, have seized Implacable and are approaching my inner sector. FleetOps request that we stop them. They do not specify the method."

"Who's this N'Trol, Commodore?" asked L'Guan, turning to D'Trelna.

Gods, thought D'Trelna. N'Trol? A corsair? Absurd.

"He's Implacable's engineer, Admiral," said D'Trelna. "Highly competent, irreverent, irascible, no lover of authority…"

"Would he have turned corsair?"

"No, sir," said D'Trelna firmly. "He hates military structure, he's impatient with anyone slower than himself-mostly everyone-but a corsair? Never. N'Trol fought K'Tran with us off Terra Two-even briefly commanded K'Tran's captured ship, with K'Tran and A'Tir in attendance. He's had far better opportunities than this to betray us. I suspect he's made concessions, hoping to keep his crew alive until they can retake the ship."

"What about Prime Base defenses?" said L'Guan.

"They did not fire, out of political and humanitarian concerns," said Line.

"Mostly the former, I suppose."

"Councilor D'Assan was visiting FleetOps when the decision was made."

"And the pickets?" said L'Guan.

"Fleet units are attempting to intercept, but they have nothing substantial enough between here and jump point to stop a heavy cruiser."

"Will you stop them?" said L'Guan.

"No, Admiral," said Line. "Not unless you convince me that Implacable constitutes a direct threat to the security of the planet."

"She's an armed heavy cruiser in the wrong hands," said L'Guan.

"Similar arguments have been made by FleetOps as recently as today and as long ago as the First Dynasty. They are not evocative."

"May I speak with N'Trol?" said D'Trelna.

"Certainly," said Line. The diorama on the wall vanished, replaced by K'Lal's startled face.

"This is Defense Sphere Command," said Line. "Put Commander N'Trol on."

"Speak freely," said A'Tir, drawing her side-arm as N'Trol walked to the engineering station's commscreen. Ignoring her, he stepped into the pickup. "Commander N'Trol," he said, sinking into the padded flight chair. A familiar face appeared in the pickup.

"Quite a mess, N'Trol," said D'Trelna. "What are you and the crew doing with the throat-slitters?"

"A mutually uneasy alliance," said N'Trol. He was aware of someone behind him. An Ml 1A barrel tapped softly against the back of the chairarm.

"And if you do get away, where are you going?" asked the commodore.

N'Trol shrugged. "I don't know what the jump coordinates are-a passionate secret of

A'Tir's. This whole thing's her empty-headed gesture."

The corsair commander stepped into the pickup, standing to the left of the engineer. "Line has made no attempt to stop us, D'Trelna-we're almost in clear space."

Stricken, D'Trelna turned to L'Guan. "Do something, please. My men will be dead the instant those butchers are through with them."

"Don't you think I know that, D'Trelna?" The admiral looked weary and far older than he was. "There's nothing I can do-nothing anyone but Line can do."

"Commander A'Tir." It was Line.

A'Tir's eyes narrowed. "Yes?"

"If we meet again, it will be to your disadvantage," said Line.

"I'm not coming back here alive," said A'Tir, reaching past N'Trol to flick off the commlink. The last thing the two men in the command center saw was N'Trol's wink.

There was a glum silence in the room, broken a few minutes later by Line's announcement: "Implacable has jumped."

D'Trelna sat up. "Of course," he muttered.

"Of course what?" asked the admiral.

"N'Trol told us. 'Haven't seen the jump coordinates'-meaning he had. 'Passionate.' 'Empty-headed.'" D'Trelna looked at L'Guan, face set and certain. "A'Tir's gone to rescue K'Tran."

"From a fleet of mindslavers? And rescue what?" said L'Guan. "The R'Actolians cut K'Tran up-his brain's doing their tactics for them, his body's on ice somewhere in one of those monstrosities-your own report said so.

"True," said D'Trelna. "But the same process that took K'Tran apart can put him together again."

"Still…"

The commodore held up a hand. "The power of love, Admiral."

"Love? Those two?" said L'Guan. "K'Tran and A'Tir?"

D'Trelna nodded. "Her, certainly. Him, I don't know."

L'Guan shook his head. "Even the most feral of creatures mate, I suppose." He rose.

"Stand you to a drink, D'Trelna?" he said. "There's a pleasant little bar the other side of that waterfall."