Stephen Berry - The AI War

"Our defeat was devastating-materially, psychologically. The subjugated species quickly took advantage of it. Led by one of the few uncoopted members of their old aristocracy, supported by a handful of malcontents like myself, and a few others, they revolted. The revolt failed. We fled to this reality."

"How?" asked L'Wrona. "I thought the Trel sealed your access route?"

"Sealed my silicon-base brethren's route," said R'Gal. ' 'The rebels made their own device-a better one than the original. It wasn't dependent on natural phenomena-it created its own portal, when and where one wanted. It was portable, and we took care to leave behind no clues to its making."

"How-how old are you, R'Gal," asked the commodore, almost fearing the answer.

"As old as you think I am, D'Trelna."

"And the rebels?'' asked L'Wrona. "What became of them?"

"They've done well, considering," said R'Gal. "They grew from a single, battered flotilla into a galactic Empire. An Empire that collapsed, of course-they always do.

They're recovering, though, doing well-and much toughened by the S'Cotar war.

"But now, my friends"-he looked from face to face as comprehension came-"now the old portal's opening, the portal the Trel closed with their dying strength. The Fleet of the One is coming. They've forgotten nothing, forgiven nothing, learned nothing. They're coming to kill us, slaves and rebels all."

"R'Gal," said D'Trelna after a moment, "I think you're a person with many answers and no solutions. What about T'Lan? If the portal's sealed, where did he come from?"

"As you found out on Terra Two, Commodore," said R'Gal, "my brethren are now capable-at great cost and energy-of accessing another reality. Briefly. Only a small force could be sent through to here-T'Lan and a few thousand. You're going to ask me why?" he said as D'Trelna started to speak. "I don't know, Commodore. I don't know his relationship to the mindslaver, either. Not knowing bothers me."

"I know," said John, and quickly related his final conversation with T'Lan. There was a long silence when he finished.

"Clearly," said D'Trelna, "the T'Lan AIs are… harvesting, I believe is the word… harvesting a human world, brainstripping people to repair their battered armada. The question is where?"

"This quadrant," said R'Gal. "The Rift's at the far end of it, the battleglobes would want to be repaired as soon as possible.''

"Logical," said L'Wrona. "There must be lost planets out here, from before the Fall, their populations' technology regressed, virtually defenseless against the AIs."

"What are you going to do about it?" said John, looking at D'Trelna.

"Without the location," said the commodore, "nothing. Recall, also, that we have no communications with Fleet-haven't since we entered this quadrant."

"What about the S'Cotar biofabs?" said John to R'Gal.

"What about them?'" said the AI. "Did you play any part in their creation?" asked the Terran.

"As you know," said R'Gal, "they were created by the Imperial cyborg, Pocsym-Six. We helped in Pocsym's creation, for the express purpose of preparing the Empire's flabby descendants for the AI invasion. We did not authorize Pocsym to create a race of telepathic, telekinetic horrors."

"You're still culpable," said L'Wrona. "Those things killed millions of people. Brainwiped millions, torched planets…"

"H'Nar," warned D'Trelna as the captain stood, palm on his holster. "We need R'Gal. And we need you-you'd be dead before you started to draw. Sit."

L'Wrona sat, eyes still on the AI.

"What is Guan-Sharick's game?" asked John.

"If I ever catch him, I'll tell you," said R'Gal.

D'Trelna saw it then. "All the Watchers are AIs."

"Very good, Commodore," said R'Gal. "We really can detect S'Cotar. And, with the war over, the escapees have got to be tracked down. When they're disposed of, we'll scatter to fresh cover. You're not fond of AIs."

"You turned on us once," said L'Wrona. "The Machine War, centuries ago. You almost overthrew the Empire."

"No!" said R'Gal. "That was your doing. We tried to stop it. But the Empire just kept building better machines- machines that inevitably began designing themselves. Eventually they wanted autonomy. Petition denied. They rose." He looked out the window, pensive. "It was a very difficult time for us. Imagine yourselves stranded on a world populated by robots. Everyone believes you're a robot, so they don't bother you. Then, one bright morning, the robots discover RNA and DNA and bring about life-your sort of life. Life the robots exploit for their own end. Life that finally stands up-to those robots and says 'Enough!' So the robots kill it." R'Gal looked back at the humans. "Just as the Empire killed their AIs."

The commlink chirped. D'Trelna answered it.

"Ship ready for action," reported K'Raoda. "All systems within optimum-though I'd hate to have to land on hangar deck now-it's knee-deep in slush."

"And the corsair?"

"Her crew and A'Tir are locked down, sir. Commander T'Ral is on board with ten crew and is prepared to jump for home at your order."

"Tell him to go ahead, and good luck," said the commodore. "We should have a course for you to plot shortly. T'Lei."

"Yes, sir."

"Everyone will find out about this when we get back to K'Ronar." said D'Trelna, turning back to R'Gal. "Too many people know."

R'Gal shrugged. "The invasion may come before you get home, Commodore. After that, it doesn't matter. Besides, I doubt this ship will ever see Prime Base."

"This ship has been through various hells," said D'Trelna, opening a drawer. "We can take a few more." He removed the commwand John had retrieved from Alpha Prime. "Shall we run this?" he asked, holding it up.

"Pocsym's?" said R'Gal.

The commodore nodded. "What do you know about it?"

"Nothing. A few people in Imperial Survey knew about the Trel Cache. But after the Fall, no one knew-except Pocsym. It was safer that way. The chance of Pocsym being discovered was remote.

"May I?" He held out a hand.

The commodore handed it over. R'Gal studied the groove pattern along the bottom rim. "Interactive," he said, handing it back.

"What?" said John.

"Just another myth." said D'Trelna dourly. He slipped the white cylinder into the desk's commport. "Will that work?" asked the Terran.

"Imperial ship, Imperial commwand," said the commodore, waiting. "It should."

There was a sharp click, then a pleasant tenor filled the office. "I am Pocsym Six. And I'm dead-but you know that. The coordinates to Alpha Prime's sector wouldn't have been released otherwise. I hope the R'Actolians didn't give you much trouble."

"They did," said D'Trelna.

"Ah, Commodore D'Trelna. Good to hear your voice again."

D'Trelna looked at R'Gal, an eyebrow raised.

"Tapping your archives," said the AI. "He always was an egoist. The commwand doesn't know you, of course. And it has no memory. It's a sort of cybernetic leech."

"I don't know you, sir," said Pocsym's voice.

"That's because there's no record of my voice in ship's archives," said R'Gal.

"Enough of this," said the commodore. "Where's the Trel Cache? What's in it?"

"Blunt as always," said the machine. "Very well. It's off this planet." D'Trelna's printer suddenly spewed out a sheet of buff-colored Fleet stationery. Reaching out, D'Trelna picked it up and read the coordinates.

"Where…"

"D'Lin, Commodore," said the commwand. "The former Imperial capital for Blue Nine and the infamous S'He-lia R'Actol's home base."

"Off planet?" said L'Wrona.

"In an asteroid belt, Captain. I wasn't given the coordinates. Imperial Survey found it, but for some reason never disturbed it."

"What's in it?" he repeated.

"A weapon, among other things. I wasn't told what it does."