Stephen Berry - The AI War

"And T'Lan?" asked L'Wrona.

"An irreversible stasis," said John. "From this." He handed the pistol to L'Wrona. "You'll see something familiar there."

"The weapon's certainly not familiar," said the captain. Turning it around, he saw the triangular device. His eyes lit. "This, though. .. Terra Two."

"Of unpleasant memory," said John. "The AIs carried that symbol."

"Where did you get this?" asked L'Wrona, handing it to D'Trelna. "Did T'Lan have it?"

"This can wait," interrupted D'Trelna. "I want K'Tran. Where…"

"Alert!" called S'Til, aiming past them toward the bridge corridor.

A'Tir was walking toward them, blaster held limply at her side. Oblivious to her dead shipmates and the leveled weapons, she stopped in front of D'Trelna. "May I return to my ship?" she asked dully.

A face without hope, thought John.

"That ship belongs to the Fleet from which you stole it," said D'Trelna as S'Til took the blaster. "And so do you. You're under arrest-Fleet articles of War. I'd cite charges, but I want to be out of here before my retirement date.

"Where's K'Tran?"

A'Tir looked at D'Trelna. "Not dead, I'm afraid," she said. "We reached the bridge and the shield was down. K'Tran left me at the entrance-he went in alone, commlink open. When he climbed the command tier, they-"

"The R'Actolians?" asked John.

A'Tir nodded. "They invited him to take command- something about the AIs and the ship's cybernetics. K'Tran pushed the button they indicated, then nothing for a long time, then a scream…" She looked at them, the shock still in her eyes. "I've never heard a human scream like that-it went on and on. I tried to go in, but the shield came back when I moved."

"Well, K'Tran's traded ships for the last time," said D'Trelna after a moment. "Let's go home."

Stephen Ames Berry

The AI War

"You're both very clever," said R'Gal. His gaze shifted between Q'Nil and K'Raoda. "But"-he raised a finger- "didn't it occur to you that T'Lan might have adjusted his life readings to correspond to mine?"

"Absurd," said K'Raoda. "He didn't know you, he had no contact with you. No, I prefer the more direct explanation."

"All right," said R'Gal mildly. "So I'm an AI-a combat droid like T'Lan. Why haven't I perforated your frail bodies and blasted my way out of this room? Why didn't I go with T'Lan to the mindslaver?"

"Doing one or the other would end your usefulness," said K'Raoda. "Our acceptance of you as human is probably necessary to your mission, R'Gal. Failing to convince us, you can always try to blast your way out." He paused. "Perhaps you are a counterintelligence officer- just not a human one."

"You've taken precautions against my making a dramatic exit?"

K'Raoda nodded. "Except for this room, Sick Bay's been evacuated. The door to this room and all decks and bulkheads surrounding it are blastpaked. Any disturbance will trigger them."

"Even with one of you as hostage?" asked R'Gal.

"With either or both of us as hostage," said K'Raoda.

R'Gal pulled his legs up on the bed and put his arms around them. "Let's assume, K'Raoda, for discussion's sake, that this fantasy of yours is true. What then?"

"Assuming it is," said K'Raoda, "I'd like to know what you AIs want. I'd like to know how deeply you've infiltrated the Republic. I'd like to know what T'Lan wants on that mindslaver. But most of all, R'Gal, I want that stasis algorithm." '

"That's all?"

There was a stony silence.

"Very well, Commander," said R'Gal after a moment. "I'll match your small fantasy with a larger one-a tale of death and treachery spanning two universes and a million years. This will take a while-better pull up a chair. You too, Q'Nil."

"What about the algorithm?" asked the commander, not moving.

"Listen," said R'Gal, "and you'll understand why T'Lan might have that algorithm, and why I wouldn't."

Commander T'Ral stood before an armorglass wall, his survival jacket closed, the hood up, watching Alpha Prime through a pair of small field binoculars. Cursing softly, he lowered and reversed them, using a thickly gloved finger to scrape the skin of ice from the lenses.

"Anything?" asked K'Lana, her breath a thick, cottony streamer. She sat behind the gray bulk of the ship's main- and now nonoperative-gunnery control console, an earpiece tying her into the oblong nexus of a tactical commweb. The little machine's surface was aglitter with green status lights.

T'Ral shook his head and raised the binoculars. "You'd think she were some monstrous derelict, except for that damned light." He trained the binoculars back on the hangar deck entrance. It had flashed on a few moments before-a sudden wash of yellow-white coming from what had been a yawning black pit.

T'Ral had been watching ever since, hoping for the welcomed sight of two silver shuttles flashing into space- well, one of them welcomed. "Anything from Commander K'Raoda?" he asked, keeping vigil.

"Still in Sick Bay, with R'Gal," she said.

"How's life systems doing?"

"Still losing ground to the algorithm." She looked down at her blue-lined notepad. "Bridge and surrounding area is now heated into red zone. Fire snuffers have malfunctioned in hydropics, icing the plant life. Decks four, five and six from sections red five forward aren't getting recycled air. And it continues to snow on hangar deck." K'Lana looked at the second officer's back. "Flight Control again requests additional personnel for snow removal."

"Denied," he said. "I'm not pulling crew out of gun harness to sweep snow."

"It's a bit beyond the sweeping stage."

"All right," T'Ral sighed, lowering the glasses and rubbing his eyes. "Send them whatever commandos are now free from courier duty."

"Snow removal," he muttered as K'Lana took another status report.

"Next right," said Egg. It could no longer fly the shuttle-the firefight had left its light tendrils operable but unreliable. Relegated to giving directions, it sat at the navigator's station.

L'Wrona tugged the control stalk to the right, sending the shuttle soaring down the same broad ramp they'd ascended on their way to the bridge.

"Commchannels are still jammed," said D'Trelna, tapping off the commlink. "Everything all right back there?" he called through the open cabin door.

"Fine," said John. He sat beside A'Tir, just behind the duralloy ladder to the gun turret.

The corsair spoke for the first time since they'd left the bridge area. "They'll hit us before we can get off the ship, Harrison," she said. "They know we have to leave the way we came in or be exposed to their main batteries. Do you think Fats knows that?"

"John," called D'Trelna. "Man the turret, please."

A'Tir rose as John left. She moved as far forward as the leg manacles would let her. "D'Trelna," she said, "I can work your forty-fours better than the Terran!"

"Good," said the commodore, watching intently as they left the ramp and shot down a corridor. "Hand-eye coordination is very important in brainwipe rehab. They'll be starting you off with simple, repetitive tasks-eating, wiping, whatnot."

He frowned when she didn't spit something back, then forgot about it as they reached the sally port.

"No way, J'Quel," said L'Wrona, bringing the craft to a halt before the sally port. The door was still the ruin they'd left it-and the disintegrator pods were on, throwing a shaft of blazing white light into the corridor. The shuttle's windscreen and turret darkened in response.

"There's the mouth of hell, H'Nar," said D'Trelna, pointing at the entrance.

"Where's hangar deck from here?" said the commodore, turning to Egg.

"Three decks down," said the battered machine. "But it has interior weapons batteries. Our nearest and best course would bring us to the end opposite the launch opening. We would be subjected to heavy fusion fire the length of the deck."