Stephen Berry - The AI War

"I'm not familiar with the nomenclature 'L'Aal,' " said Egg.

"You are on such a vessel now," said L'Wrona.

"Then I must have access to this ship's central computer," said the machine.

Captain and commodore exchanged glances. "What've we got to lose?" said L'Wrona.

"Very well, Egg," said D'Trelna. "Access ship's computer through the commpanel beside the door. If you need exchange protocols, we'll have our engineering-"

Stylus-thin, a beam of soft green light shot from the top of the spheroid to the commpanel. The connection lasted only an instant, then the beam snapped off. "This L'Aal-class cruiser is almost identical to S'Htul-class police cruisers of the S'Yal dynasty. If you wish to know how it can defeat the mindslaver now confronting it…"

"Yes?" said the two officers.

"It cannot. Your tactical situation is hopeless."

"For this, I left the bridge?" said D'Trelna, drawing his blaster.

"However," said Egg as the commodore twisted the muzzle back to combat setting. "What?" said D'Trelna.

"In theory, two warships of this approximate class have a slight chance against a dreadnought-that is Alpha Prime out there?"

"Yes," said L'Wrona.

"Good. She was the first of her type, without the advanced weapons systems of later ships. With myself coordinating an attack, your ships-''

"This is our only ship," said D'Trelna.

"Your crudely inhibited sensors show a second vessel, slightly smaller than this one, but heavily armed, standing off your port, poorly disguised as a rock. As Alpha Prime has undoubtedly detected her presence, a joint operation would serve you both."

L'Wrona was out the door, running for the bridge before Egg had finished.

"Come with me… please," said the commodore.

The commando sergeant watched, bemused, as two similar shapes, one golden and metal, the other human and uniformed, moved down the corridor toward the lift.

Unable to communicate its urgent report about Egg to any station, Implacable'% computer kept trying to bypass the blockage. With increasing alarm, it found the restraints on its operations to be firm-and spreading.

"Why haven't I been here before?" asked Zahava.

"No need," said R'Gal as the door closed behind them. "Not unless you're abandoning ship."

They stood at one end of a brightly lit corridor. It looked like any other of Implacable's long gray miles, save for the ten widely interspaced doors that ran its length, five to each side. The door to Zahava and R'Gal's right read Lifepod 1. R'Gal thumbed the entry tab.

"Shall we?" said the K'Ronarin as the double doors of the airlock slid open. Zahava stepped into the lifepod.

It was a big, round room. Rows of red flight couches took up most of the floor space, broken by three aisles and a central spiral stairway. Across the cabin from the airlock, beneath a blank main screen, two flight couches fronted a darkened double console.

"Looks more like a bus than a pod," said the Israeli.

"Long before even Implacable was built," said R'Gal as the door hissed shut, "survival vessels were one-man craft. Time went by, they grew to this." His hand swept the cabin. "Three levels, a hundred and fifty seats, maximum capacity over two hundred. Jump drive, n-gravs, automatic homers, sanitation and recreation facilities. The whole unit can be broken down to form the nucleus of a rough colony-power plant, forcefield, sanitation and shelter-just in case." He walked across the cabin as he spoke, heading for the double console.

"In case of what?"

"In case the automatic homers don't find a close-in planet emitting technology's telltale spores." Reaching the far side of the pod, the colonel dropped into the left chair and busied himself with the instruments.

"Why three levels?" asked Zahava, following him down the center aisle. "And why twice as many lifepods as needed?"

"Three levels to conform to Implacable's design. So many pods because she probably carried a larger complement five thousand years ago." He leaned forward, reading a report as it flashed onto a telltale. "Maintenance log says we're the first to enter this pod since the ship left Terra."

"Is that true?" she asked.

"It's true that the log entry reads no access since Terra." R'Gal stood as the telltale winked off. "It's also true that a S'Cotar transmute could have telekinetically reprogrammed this pod's computer.

… Check the upper levels," he said, motioning toward the stairway.

"For what?"

"Anything that looks out of place. Everything should be as spare and as orderly as on this level. Check the storage lockers and bins, food processors-anywhere something small could be hidden. If you find anything unusual, anything at all, use your communicator and call me. I'll be checking number two. Meet me in front of three when you've finished."

She nodded and was halfway up the stairs, blaster in hand, by the time R'Gal reached the exit.

"Anything from Alpha PrimeT' asked L'Wrona as K'Raoda relinquished the command chair.

"Nothing," said the first officer, resuming his station.

Both men looked at the main screen-the mindslaver hung there, a great dark menace out of legend, intimidating by its very existence.

"Fine," said the captain. "Let's fill our empty moments with a tactical exercise."

"Sir?" said K'Raoda, exchanging puzzled glances with T'Ral.

"Assume," said L'Wrona, fingertips pressed together, "that there's a third ship close by, a warship about our size. It's sitting dark and camouflaged, watching. Assume further that our sensors have picked it up, but are unable to correlate key data because of Fleet's restrictive programming overlay. How do we get a readout?" He looked at T'Ral.

"N-gravs," said the third officer. Turning to his console, he busied himself at the complink. No one noticed D'Trelna enter the bridge.

"Of course," said K'Raoda. "He has to be using them to counter his drift. Just a burst, now and then, but-"

"But enough," grinned T'Ral, looking up. "Five-one-seven, mark four-one. Previously charted as an asteroid."

"Tight-beam transmission to that asteroid, please," said D'Trelna. He took his seat, oblivious to the stares that followed his hovering companion. "Use alpha channel, and transmit in battlecode."

"Sir," said K'Lana, "alpha channel's a Fleet intership tactical band. And…"

A glance from D'Trelna stopped her. "Do it," he said.

"Transmitting," she said a moment later.

L'Wrona walked to the commodore's station. "I can think of only one man who'd come into this quadrant after us, J'Quel."

"Before us," said D'Trelna. "Had to be. Otherwise, we'd have made him." He flipped the commswitch. "Implacable to unknown ship-acknowledge."

On Victory Day, A'Tir turned to K'Tran, shaking her head. "Incoming transmission on the tactical band. Implacable's made us."

The other corsair shrugged. "Much good it'll do them." He touched his commkey.

The image on Implacable's main screen changed from that of the mindslaver to the smiling face of Captain K'Tran. He wore the standard brown K'Ronarin uniform with the stylized silver ship of a starship captain on the collar. "Victory Day on your flank, Commodore. How stands the Fleet?"

A ripple of anger swept Implacable^ bridge-just about everyone had lost friends to the K'Tran's killers.

"K'Tran, you renegade butcher," growled D'Trelna. He stood, face flushed, eyes blazing with hate. "How dare you render the greeting of honorable men? How dare you wear the uniform of your victims? You parasitic v'org slime-''

"You're being wearisome, D'Trelna," said K'Tran easily. "You've made us, but I fail to see what you can do about it. Start blasting away, that slaver's going to wipe you."

The commodore sat down, recovering. "It'd be worth it, to dispose of you… Some scum paying you slime to follow us?" he asked, dialing up a fruit drink.