Stephen Berry - The AI War

"Humanity in this galaxy isn't more than a hundred thousand years old," said John.

"True," said Guan-Sharick. "Those escaping slaves had the sense to move uptime nine hundred thousand years. It took the AIs a long while to engineer the technology to find them. Slipping their infiltrators through was one thing, but to bring in their main force, they've had to wait until the Rift sealed by the Trel opened."

"You still haven't answered my question," said John.

"I'm not going to-not now," said the S'Cotar, smiling. "You wouldn't believe me." The smile was gone. "Believe this, though, Harrison. I could have killed you and Zahava a thousand times-from when we first met on Earth-you remember, at the Institute?-to the last moment I walked the decks of Implacable. I'm telepathic, tele-kinetic-nothing human can stand against me.

"I didn't kill you, though-I need you. You have a rare gift-you're both sensitives-far more so than any of the K'Ronarins."

"Not taking any risks, are they?" said D'Trelna, watching the screen. The Combine ships were approaching in a textbook englobing formation, deploying around Implacable even as they prepared to bombard her.

L'Wrona turned to the commodore. "Tactics would dictate that we feint, probing for weakness, presenting a difficult target."

D'Trelna grunted. "Until they close their circle and there's nowhere to run." He looked at the captain, eyebrows raised. "You want to do that, H'Nar?"

"No," said L'Wrona, looking back at the board. "There's a slight possibility, though; if we can take out four of the center ships, we can escape."

"We don't want to escape," said the commodore.

"Incoming missiles," said K'Raoda.

Small silver streaks were running in from the larger target blips, heading straight for Implacable.

"They don't know that," said L'Wrona. "Break their formation, we turn, take them in the rear. We might get as many as six of them before they get us."

D'Trelna ran a hand through his thinning hair, eyes on the board. "Do it," he said.

Outside, the shield flared red as the first wave exploded against it.

"Gods of my-!" D'Trelna seized the chairarms as Implacable lurched. Damage alerts sounded as fallen deck crew picked themselves up.

"Gunnery fully engaged," called K'Raoda.

Counterfire flashed from every battery on the ship, missiles and beams concentrating on the Combine's two lead ships.

More incoming missiles slammed into the shield, followed in an instant by a smaller, carefully programmed second wave. A single nuclear-tipped missile broke through. A blue bolt flashed from a Mark 44 intercept battery, detonating the warhead just inside the shield.

Implacable bucked like a speared bull.

D'Trelna had a brief impression of the lights going out, then he was spinning across a wildly tilting bridge, tumbling into a pile of flailing, cursing bodies piled against the engineering panels.

The battle lights came on: small, bright orbs set along the bulkheads. Slowly, Implacable righted itself, the old Imperial programming correcting the gravity field.

A hand helped the commodore to his feet. "You all right, J'Quel?" said L'Wrona.

"How bad are we hit?" said D'Trelna, eyes searching the engineering boards as the rest of the deck crew returned to their posts. The damage control panel was awash in red light.

"Bad," said N'Trol. The engineer was working his way along the board, ignoring the blood that flowed from a scalp wound. He tapped an indicator. "Number three engine took the worst of it-she'll need port overhaul and-" He stopped and swore softly, then turned to the captain and commodore, eyes large. "Jump transponders are gone-primary, secondary, tertiary. Twenty-four of them. We don't have enough spares."

"Make more," said the commodore, turning at the faint whine of the big board coming back to life.

"We got them," reported L'Wrona, pointing to where two red X's blinked on the board. The lead Combine ships were destroyed.

"Full ahead, Mr. K'Raoda," ordered L'Wrona. "Plow right through their center."

"You've only got two-thirds flank speed!" protested N'Trol. "The vibrations will tear the…" Everyone ignored him.

L'Wrona touched a commlink as Implacable swept forward. "Gunnery, we're going through the center of the enemy formation. Full flanking fire as we pass-scatter em.

As Implacable charged past, spewing missiles and beams, the surviving Combine commander made a bad decision, ordering his remaining ships to break formation, regroup and pursue. As they broke formation, Implacable turned and came back in, flying a predetermined course to pick each of the smaller ships off.

Frantically the Combine commander ordered all ships to rally on his vessel. But by then it was too late-his remaining nine ships were scattering for space, and he was staring at an incoming missile barrage that in seconds would overwhelm his shields and destroy his ship.

"We did it," said D'Trelna, not believing the board. "They're running!" He turned to L'Wrona. "They're running, H'Nar!"

"Look again, J'Quel," said the captain.

D'Trelna turned back to the board, smile fading. A fresh blip was rising above D'Lin's north pole. D'Trelna paled as he read the tacscan. "Mindslaver," he said.

The bridge was as still as death, everyone watching the board.

"Alpha Prime," said K'Raoda. "And headed right for the Combine harvest ship."

"Plot to intercept and engage," ordered L'Wrona, doing a quick calculation. The battle had taken them far outsystem-by the time they reached D'Lin, Alpha Prime would long have been at the harvest ship.

D'Trelna thumbed open the commlink. "Ship to ship," he said, eyes on the board.

"Ship to ship," said K'Lana.

"K'Tran," said the commodore, "I know it's you-I recognize the style. Acknowledge."

"Hello, D'Trelna." It was K'Tran's voice, but subtly changed, softer, the old arrogance gone. "The R'Actolians have placed me in tactical command of our ship-a gesture of trust for a new comrade."

"You've… joined them?" said D'Trelna, exchanging glances with L'Wrona.

"Yes."

"Physically?"

"If you mean, was I brainstripped, the answer is yes, D'Trelna. A fair trade-I now command the most powerful fighting ship in this universe."

Seen on the board, the mindslaver had reached the harvest ship and was bringing it into one of its hangar bays, even as it widened the gap between itself and Implacable.

"Where are you going with that ship?" demanded the commodore. "If the AIs get ahold of the cargo…"

"They won't," said the soft, self-assured voice. "We have a better use for it."

"K'Tran," said D'Trelna, leaning forward intently, gripping the chairarms, "I plead with you-don't betray us! You…"

"Tsk, tsk, Commodore," said K'Tran. "A foolish thing to ask one who made a career of betrayal. Luck to you, D'Trelna. You'll need it-check your scan in red two seven.''

The slaver was gone.

"She jumped," said K'Raoda.

D'Trelna sank back in the chair, feeling the sweat beneath his arms.

"Long-range scan shows three AI battleglobes entering this system, sector red two seven," reported T'Ral.

"Put specs on board," said L'Wrona.

It was the same type of vessel they'd faced off Terra Two-a ship the size of a moon, a planetoid of destruction, swathed in shimmering blue energy webs.

The three battleglobes were coming in just under light speed, slowly decelerating.

"Challenge," ordered the commodore. "Ships do not answer challenge," said K'Lana a moment later.

D'Trelna closed his eyes, nodded to himself, and opened them. "Captain my lord L'Wrona," he said, turning to where the captain sat, "a situation now exists that I believe requires implementation of Special Order Fourteen. I ask your concurrence."

It was flat, formal and straight from the manual.