Stephen Berry - The AI War

A'Tir laughed mirthlessly. "We do that, we'll be spotted and wiped. Just like the Trel."

"Yes." K'Tran frowned. Twelve years together and she'd never shown anything but a cursory knowledge of Imperial culture and history. "You've read about the Trel?"

"It's in ship's computer," she said. "I came across it on a file run, just after we took over."

Took over: killing the crew, they'd seized Victory Day as it stood off Terra. The cruiser was the latest from the yards of Combine T'Lan-a sleek, gray killer almost as deadly as stasis-found Imperial ships like Implacable.

"This ship was going to join D'Trelna," said K'Tran, reaching for the complink. "How's the file logged?"

" 'Mission Summary,' " she said, stepping around the desk to look at the screen.

K'Tran pushed a small, green button. "Computer, last logged Mission Summary. Enter to screen and scroll."

A'Tir read over K'Tran's shoulder as the unical green script rolled down the screen. K'Tran skimmed the text until a long series of jump coordinates appeared. "Freeze," he said. The scrolling stopped. "Comparison screen-jump coordinates just entered from commwand, this terminal, with those now on screen."

The Mission Summary had two extra sets of coordinates. Otherwise they were identical.

K'Tran leaned back, nodding. "We've got the full run. We can be waiting for D'Trelna instead of trying to follow Implacable through"-he counted-"twenty-five jumps."

He looked up at her. "Well done, Number One."

The commlink chirped. K'Lai's worried face appeared on the scan.

"What?" said K'Tran.

"Five heavy cruisers have just cleared jump point," said the second officer. "They're moving insystem at flank."

"Any ID?"

"S'Gan's personal squadron." K'Tran swore. "We're on our way."

Admiral S'Gan was on the bridge-a rarity. She stood to Captain Y'Kor's right, watching the tacscan come up on the main screen. "There he goes," she said as a single point of yellow suddenly sped toward jump point.

Y'Kor punched up a projection. "Probability of intercept: twenty-eight percent," he said. "He's way out."

"Get me Glory Run, please," she said, turning to her station.

"Captain T'Lak," she said to the round face in her screen, "the corsair will reach jump point before we can intercept. Your vessel has an unmodified Imperial jump drive, doesn't it?"

T'Lak was prematurely bald. Perhaps as compensation he'd grown a beard: black, neatly trimmed and flecked with gray. The beard bobbed as he nodded. "Mark Seventeen-late High Imperial drive. Want us to tight-jump him?"

"Yours is the only ship present that can jump intrasystem,

Captain. But it's only a thought-not even a suggestion. The decision is yours."

Imperial engineering remained unequaled. Toward the end, five thousand years before, the Empire had stasis cached some of its warships. During the S'Cotar War, many of those ships-Implacable and Glory Run among them-had been found and pressed into service, virtually untouched. Only the old Imperial drives could jump insystem-at some risk. About a third of all tight-jumping ships emerged either as scattering fragments or not at all.

"I'll meet him at jump point, Admiral," said T'Lak, "all batteries firing."

"Jump at will, Captain," said S'Gan. "Luck," she added as the image disappeared.

"They're not pursuing," said A'Tir, reading a telltale. "Intercept probability's too low." They were almost at jump point.,

"Not like her," said K'Tran, "just to sit there and watch us slip away." He stared at the screen for a moment, watching the red points designating the Fleet units. "Computer," he said, "enemy jump drives. Are any of them Imperial?"

"Not a programmed category," said computer in its asexual contralto.

"The hardware gets better, the programming gets worse," said A'Tir, eyes still on those eight red points.

"Computer," said K'Tran hurriedly, "advise if any enemy vessel has five jump transponder nodules along the engine hull."

"One vessel has that configuration," reported computer. "Current jump point deviation?" asked K'Tran. "Eight percent of ideal," said A'Tir. "Let's do it now. Stand by to jump."

"Ready to jump," said K'Lal after a moment.

"Initiate on my command," said K'Tran. He punched into the commnet. "Gunnery."

"Gunnery," said a voice from his chairarm.

Stephen Ames Berry

The AI War

"Listen, Commodore, she-"

"No!" snapped D'Trelna. "You listen."

The young officer closed his mouth, staring fixedly past D'Trelna at the armorglass and the swirl of alien stars beyond.

"You've requested I review the captain's decision in this… incident," said D'Trelna, temper ebbing. "That's

"Fire a full shipbuster salvo, tight-grouped, at our initial jump point. Take your mark from the navheading-fire when set."

"Missiles away," said the voice a moment later.

A flight of silver needles flashed by on the outside scan.

K'Tran slapped his chairarm. "And jump, A'Tir!"

A nanosecond after Glory Run emerged from its jump, ship's computer read the absence of a ship target and the presence of seventeen multimegaton missiles. It instantly fired a blocking salvo. Seven incoming missiles were destroyed by beam hits in less than a second. The rest detonated.

Overwhelmed, Glory Run's shield failed. Miles of battlesteel and men flared into evanescent gases, the center of a blinding atomic vortex.

Captain T'Lak had time for a final thought: brilliant.

S'Gan stood in front of the big board for a long time, watching the pulsing red circle marking a destruct point, then turned and left the bridge. Y'Kor wanted to say something as she walked by him. Seeing her expression, he said nothing.

"Your right. Frankly, I think you and she should be spanked." He glanced at the complink, recessed into his desk top, then looked back at T'Lan.

"You and our senior commando officer, Lieutenant S'Til, met in Recroom Four, secondwatch, four days ago. After a few drinks, she asked you to her quarters. You went willingly, and had what Captain L'Wrona delicately describes as"-he peered at the screen-" 'an intimate period.' Neither of you deny this."

T'Lan stood at parade rest, hands clasped behind him.

"After this-period-you offered Lieutenant S'Til thirty-two credits-'for your time,' you said. Lieutenant S'Til firmly rejected your offer, dislocating your left patella with a combat kick. Q'Nil fix your knee?" he asked, glancing down.

"It wasn't my knee she was after, sir," said T'Lan, eyes meeting the commodore's.

D'Trelna suppressed a smile. "No, I suppose it wasn't. The facts stated are correct, Commander T'Lan?"

"Yes, sir."

"Have you anything to add?"

"Where I'm from, sir, we pay for what we get."

D'Trelna sighed. "You're from a subtropical paradise larger than our capital, Commander. You were raised in a garden-everyone in your father's employ, no one except tutors and guardians about to deny you anything. And you had a generous allowance, no doubt. That's what you mean, isn't it?"

"Yes, sir."

The commodore nodded curtly. "Wheru we are now, Commander T'Lan, is a big chunk of space that's probably hostile and is certainly a long way from home."

"I'm aware of that, sir."

"You're aware of it, sir. But do you know what it means? There's just this big old ship and a few hundred of us. To succeed, to even survive, we must work together. That means, T'Lan, a minimum of friction, a low level of animosity. There should be some friendship, some good feeling." He waved his hands. "Whatever. But I insist-any competent commander would insist-that there at least be mutual respect. To offer a shipmate money for an act of friendship is disrespectful. Clear?"

"Clear, sir. Sir, I am due on watch in-"