Stephen Berry - The AI War

S'Gan restored order, rapping her hand on the table. A worn Academy ring rang on the table as S'Gan rapped her hand on the traq wood. "I'll listen to suggestions, not incipient hysteria," she said. "Anyone?"

Gods! she looks tired, thought D'Trelna. And why not? Lost all but one ship, dropped like a plague by a corrupt

FleetOps, the AIs coming and no one to believe her. Now is the time.

"If we're to be corsairs, Admiral," said the commodore, "let's act like corsairs."

"Explain, D'Trelna."

"Raid Combine T'Lan's research and headquarters facility."

"Why?" she asked.

"Tell the admiral what you told us," D'Trelna said to the S'Cotar.

"Thirty centuries ago, Admiral," said the S'Cotar, "I was an Imperial Survey officer-a cover for searching out the Trel Cache. I found it. I spoke with its guardian. The guardian assured me we could have the weapon the Trel had used against the Fleet of the One, but that only a united and militant humanity could defeat the AIs, weapon or not.

"We laid our plans well, and with the help of R'Gal and others, created Pocsym, who created the biofabs, which, you will agree, have produced a united, militant humanity."

"You killed a lot of people to do that," said S'Gan coldly, gray eyes on the blonde.

Guan-Sharick shrugged and continued. "As you know, we're now told that the weapon no longer exists, but that, ironically, Combine T'Lan has unknowingly produced a device that, with modifications, can recall the Twelfth Fleet of the House of S'Yal.

"Admiral, we need that device."

"The fleet that never returned," said the admiral, half to herself. She looked back at the S'Cotar. "Do you know what kind of ships the Twelfth had?"

"Mindslavers," said Guan-Sharick.

"Like Commodore D'Trelna, you're willing to employ mindslavers against the AIs?"

"I'd use anything against them, Admiral," said Guan-Sharick.

Something in Guan-Sharick's voice startled John, something he'd never heard there before-hatred.

"You have this device's location and a description?" asked S'Gan. Guan-Sharick nodded.

S'Gan turned to D'Trelna. "You haven't, by any chance, drafted a plan of attack on this facility, D'Trelna?"

"As a matter of fact," said the commodore, reaching for the complink, "I have."

Stephen Ames Berry

The AI War

S'Hlu was a soft, green world, tucked away in Red Seven, a quadrant adjoining Red One and the K'Ronarin home systems. Only fifty light-years from K'Ronar, it was visited frequently by Fleet units patrolling against corsairs and escaped S'Cotar.

Thus, the Combine T'Lan port officer gave almost automatic clearance to the three Fleet craft descending from the L'Aal-class cruiser that had just slipped into orbit.

Almost.

As they came in he ran a standard ID check-confirming that the Forward Seven was actually assigned Red Seven- then ran it again when the complink flashed DESTROYED-SECOND BATTLE OF H'SAK.

The port officer leaned forward as fresh data trailed onto the screen, then cursed softly as he read: INCOMING CRAFT IDENTIFIED AS

Ignoring the query, the port officer slapped the general alarm call.

The klaxons had just started wailing as the control tower, ripped by fusion fire, exploded.

Sweeping out of the setting sun, the silver ships came in low over the ruined control tower, Mark 44's strafing the complex. The scattering of return fire was quickly suppressed by the shuttle, which continued circling and strafing as the assault boats settled onto the roof of a squat, black building.

The sides of the assault boats dropped away with a faint pneumatic hiss.

"Follow me!" cried L'Wrona, leading the rush down the ramp and across the roof. Seventy-one black uniformed commandos and R'Gal swept after him, the smaller contingent from the second boat setting up a defense perimeter around the landing zone.

The rush stopped at the closed double doors of the lift.

"Visitors?" said R'Gal, pointing to the lift indicator. The machine was coming express from the ground level.

"Count on it," said the captain. He turned to the commandos. "Hostiles in the lift. Deploy."

The commandos took up positions, a black arc centered on the lift. As they waited, the alarm klaxons stopped hooting and the blaster fire between shuttle and ground positions fell off.

Please, thought L'Wrona, sighting two-handed on the center of the lift door, not the blades. He'd seen destroyed ones, and read Harrison's action report on them-it was as close as he wanted to get.

The lift arrived, the doors hissing open on five layers of killer machines, red sensor scans moving balefully along the blue-steel edges of their blades.

"Fire!" shouted L'Wrona, squeezing off a bolt stream.

Blaster fire poured into the lift, obscuring it in exploding bursts of blue bolts. Smoke and flame billowed out- but no return fire.

The K'Ronarins continued firing until their reload signals beeped.

"Hold fire," called L'Wrona, peering through the drifting smoke. Slapping in a new chargepak, he advanced cautiously.

The blades lay in shattered heaps, slowly congealing rivulets of molten duraplast dripping on them from the lift's ruined walls and ceilings.

"They just hovered there and took it," said S'Til, standing beside him, looking at the destruction.

L'Wrona looked at R'Gal, standing to the right of the lift. Meeting the captain's gaze, he winked.

"Status of raid, D'Trelna?" asked S'Gan, her image appearing in the commodore's comm screen.

"As per plan and schedule, Admiral," he said. "The diversionary force has landed atop the armory. Much shooting and shouting, but unable to advance off the rooftop. Intercepted communications show all Combine security groups are being vectored on the armory. L'Wrona will pull out on schedule, hopelessly outgunned. That great bloody firefight should continue to absorb them." He dialed for t'ata.

"Incidentally, Admiral, R'Gal just saved a lot of lives by jamming the blades' command and control frequencies."

"Great," said S'Gan. "Give him a medal. Anything from the real action yet?"

"No," said D'Trelna, sipping the t'ata but watching the tacscan-they'd accounted for the two guardships, but help was coming from the Combine base on the seventh planet-a lot of help. Time to worry about that later.

"We'll only know about the 'real action' if and when that force returns," he said, looking back at S'Gan.

"If they get back," said S'Gan. "I'm having Y'Kor pull Deliverance back to omega blue three nine. We'll intercept that incoming reaction force."

D'Trelna glanced again at the tacscan. "They'll punch through you like a meteor storm, Admiral."

S'Gan shook her head and laughed. To the commodore's surprise, it was a pleasant sound. "D'Trelna, they can't kill this ship. We're already dead. Ask FleetOps."

"But…"

She shook her head. "You do your job, D'Trelna. We'll take care of the reaction force." She touched her commkey, then looked back up. "D'Trelna?"

"Admiral?"

"It's up to you-stop those v'org slime."

"The AIs?"

She nodded.

"How?" He spread his hands helplessly. "We're infiltrated, they're on their way, and I've no faith in this magical weapon we're after."

"Find some way to hit their rear, D'Trelna," said S'Gan. "Between you, R'Gal, K'Tran and the two transmutes, you'll think of something.

… You're an unorthodox slob, D'Trelna," she added. "You'll pull it off. Luck."

"Luck," he said to an empty screen.

D'Trelna turned to the tacscan. Deliverance was pulling out, heading straight for the-he counted-twenty-three Combine cruisers. Off to a very orthodox and very brief battle, thought the commodore.