Stephen Berry - Final Assault

Zahava's eyes widened in comprehension. "You led us into a trap. You brought those axe-swinging barbarians down on us!"

The blonde nodded. "Someday, you'll thank me," she said.

"Explain," demanded John.

"I don't have time," said Guan-Sharick. "But think about this. Do you really believe the Fleet of the One, the invincible, immortal Fleet of the One, ran from a handful of self-righteous spies and axe-swinging barbarians?"

"They went to invade our home universe," said John. "You do remember why we came here?"

"I suggest," said the blonde, holding up an admonitory finger, "I suggest the Fleet of the One was and is running, and from something far more terrifying than the sort of pathetic revolution they've been putting down since dinosaurs roamed Terra."

"Running from what?" said John.

"Divine justice," said the blonde, and was gone.

"Awesome," said ktran, watching the Fleet of the One enter Blue Nine. It was truly an impressive sight, one projected on Alpha Prime's bridge screens by scan-shielded satellites: the great battleglobes winking into existence at jump point, shields flaring bright with primary colors, scout craft darting between and ahead, silver and gold needles probing for danger. On and on they came, wave after massive wave, arriving in noiseless grandeur, backdropped by stars and moving toward a long-awaited vengeance, now only a week and a few jump points away.

"How many so far, A'Tir?" asked K'Tran, eyes reading over the data trail at scan's edge.

"Nine thousand and forty-two battleglobes," she said, reading one of the bridge monitors. "Secondary craft…" She hesitated, shaking her head, then continued stoically, "One hundred and ninety-three thousand, four hundred and seven."

"A mere thousandth of their fleet," said K'Tran. "Enough to keep us busy, Number One," he said with a gentle smile.

A'Tir turned from that unfamiliar smile and the stranger's face. You never came back from the slaver, Y'Dan, she thought, automatically checking their own little fleet's status. Gone was the K'Tran of the daring raid, the K'Tran of the pitiless assault, the easy treachery, the cruel humor.

A'Tir felt nothing for the approaching AIs-so let them turn humanity into fertilizer, most people just took up room anyway, fodder for the butcher's beam. No, it was the mindslavers she hated-the slavers that had taken her corsair captain and the father of the life growing within her.

"Engineer," called K'Tran to the figure standing on the next lowest tier. "The work party's finished with Implacable. Go now or you won't get clear."

Instead of leaving, N'Trol strode up the ramp, joining A'Tir and K'Tran on the command tier. "They'll say I'm crazy, K'Tran, entrusting you with a flotilla of mindslavers," he said with a smile.

"What's to lose?" said A'Tir, turning from a console. "We'll probably all be dead and dissipated by watchend."

"Don't throw your lives away," said N'Trol sharply. "No glory runs-just take whatever advantage surprise and tactics convey, hurt them and run." His gaze shifted between them. "When this is over, we're going to rebuild this battered old galaxy-all of us." He glanced at the heavily filtered ball of flame filling the armorglass wall. "Want to tell me why you're tight orbiting this sun?" he asked. "With fifteen asteriod belts, this system offers thousands of concealment points. Yet you've chosen to stand in one of its few clear spots, backdropped by its sun, and essentially stick your tongue out at the enemy. Why?"

"As I said before, sir, proximity to the sun augments our scan cloak," said K'Tran.

"I don't believe that," said N'Trol. "Your scan cloak either works or it doesn't, and it's useless once they're within visual pickup range." He held up a hand as K'Tran started to protest. "Forget I asked-it's your battle, K'Tran."

"Enemy coming within mangier range," reported one of the lower tiers.

"Upship, Engineer. Now," said K'Tran, pointing to the ramp.

"Very well," said N'Trol. His gaze shifted between A'Tir and K'Tran. "Luck to you." He looked over the railing of Alpha Prime's bridge, now manned by living men and women, preparing for a hopeless battle.

"Luck to you all," he called, and turned for the ramp.

"One last thing," said K'Tran.

N'Trol turned back, a quizzical look on his face.

"Are you really the Emperor?"

"Not yet," said N'Trol, "I'm the Heir. Or, as Admiral L'Guan says, the Heir Unapparent."

"Do Heirs Unapparent live longer than Heirs Apparent?" asked K'Tran.

N'Trol chuckled. "Oh, much longer." He stopped chuckling as K'Tran drew his blaster. Taking it by the barrel, he silently extended the grips to N'Trol. The Heir touched the grips. "Fortune grace your arms, corsair captain."

"As they defend your House, My Lord," said K'Tran, reholstering his weapon and completing a ritual not heard since the Fall.

"Master computers of the Golden Fleet," called N'Trol.

"Lord?" said the perfect voice.

"Obey K'Tran's orders as if they were my own."

"Yes, Lord."

Without a backward glance, N'Trol descended the ramp and left the bridge.

"You should have had him bless our ragged asses, too," said A'Tir, looking up from her work.

"Word is," said K'Tran, checking the status scan, "that he already blessed yours. Ah! They've reached the manglers." He studied the tacscan for a moment, then touched the commkey. "First group, stand by."

One of the K'Ronarin Empire's most diabolical weapons, the mangier. It looked and scanned as spaceborne rock until touched by a shield matrix-a catalyst that released its multimegaton potential.

The R'Actolian mindslavers had improved on the manglers, working on them through their long centuries of isolation in Blue Nine. Now no two scanned alike-iron and nickel, igneous rock, yes, but all in different proportion, all innocuous-seeming asteriods of different shape and size.

The foremost battleglobe was almost to the far side of the mangier belt when K'Tran said, "Computers."

"Sir?"

"There are five hundred battleglobes advancing. Why do the others stand off?"

"Assuming AI tactics haven't changed since the Revolt," began the machines.

"Why should they have?" said K'Tran. "They worked."

"Then this is a reconnaissance group. If they penetrate this solar system and advance to their next jump point without incident, the main body will follow."

"And if not?"

"Then unless you demonstrate invincibility, Captain K'Tran, a much larger force will attack."

The lead battleglobe had reached the last line of manglers.

"Let's demonstrate something," said K'Tran. He looked at A'Tir. "Activate manglers, Number One."

A slim finger touched a control. Forty million miles away, a new sun flared as the entire minefield detonated, a nuclear vortex that swept aside impregnable shields, touching off a chain reaction of exploding battleglobes and secondary craft that tripled the size of the initial firestorm.

"Gods!" cried K'Tran a few moments later, as the light from the explosion burst over Alpha Prime's dark side, a fierce wave of light strobing across the bridge just as the armorglass darkened. "What were they carrying?" he asked, rubbing his eyes.

"Planetbusters," said the computers just as all of the tacscans went dead.

There was nothing for a long moment-just the faint hum of the electronics and the blank, sea-green vidglass of a few hundred monitors. Angry and frustrated, voices rose from the lower tiers. "Anyone getting any scans?" asked A'Tir over the commlink.

As she spoke, the screens came up on standby, displaying the starship-and-sun emblem of the K'Ronarin Empire.

"Data," said K'Tran tensely, standing. "I need data."

"Most of our satellite net's gone," reported

Tactics. "Transferring to onboard sensors."