Stephen Berry - The AI War

"Mr. K'Raoda," he said, turning to the first officer, "take us in low and fast. Make for that tower."

"Someone got here before us," said Zahava, taking off her helmet. Dead AIs were scattered around the shattered security post, remains still smoldering. Slinging her rifle, she drew her M11A. "And I think I know who."

"What the hell are you doing here?" said John as Zahava and the D'Linians stepped into the Operations center.

Two dead commandos lay in one corner, survival blankets draped over them. AIs were everywhere, bodies broken by blaster fire, smoldering remains filling the air with the acrid stench of scorched metal and burnt synthetics.

"I'm here," said Zahava, "because I was needed. Although certainly not to take this bridge." She slumped into a chair next to John, pistol in her helmet, helmet in her lap.

"You could have been killed," said John, his temper ebbing.

"I did what-"

"You had to do," he said, kissing her. "You're incorrigible."

"Implacable's here," said L'Wrona, pointing to the armorglass. Sliding in on her n-gravs, the big old ship came to a halt just above the tower, two miles of battlesteel blotting out the stars.

A chirping came from one of the panels. Frowning, L'Wrona looked for a moment, then pushed a switch. D'Trelna's voice boomed through the room. "That you, H'Nar?"

"And friends," said the captain.

"Excellent," continued the commodore. "My fellow corsairs, we now own an AI battleglobe."

Stephen Ames Berry

The AI War

"Miracle," said D'Trelna, shaking his head. He stood looking down at R'Gal. The AI lay on a medcot, eyes closed, apparently asleep.

They'd found what was left of him in the corridor outside Devastator's Operations. R'Gal had managed to return to his own structure; still John and the others had barely recognized him-part of his face was blown away, and two gaping holes in his chest emitted a weak, pulsing light. Feeling utterly helpless, John, Zahava and L'Wrona had seen R'Gal conveyed to Implacable''s Sick Bay and delivered into the hands of the taciturn senior medtech.

The commodore turned to the room's third occupant, Medtech Q'Nil. "You've a miracle, Q'Nil."

The medtech shrugged. "Luck, Commodore-and lots of help from engineering. Fortunately, we didn't need to know most of the principles involved in order to effect repairs. And some of R'Gal's systems are self-healing." He pointed to the face. "The skin, for example, grew back in one watch after we repaired the lower jaw. He should be coming around any time now-I hope."

D'Trelna pulled up a straight-backed chair and sat facing Q'Nil and the cot, hands folded over the chairback. "Are you aware, Mr. Q'Nil, that we have a S'Cotar aboard?"

Q'Nil nodded and picked up R'Gal's medchart. "Everyone knows it, Commodore," he said, beginning an entry.

"I've done nothing about it-we've had much larger problems, and every watch since we arrived here's been a fight for survival. Also, R'Gal and, indirectly, Harrison convinced me that our elusive blonde friend…"

"Blonde?" said Q'Nil, looking up from his chart.

D'Trelna smiled. "Possibly. Or a slime-green bug. Or maybe an eight-foot crustacean." He shrugged. "It really doesn't matter now. One thing I want to be sure of, though," he continued. "Implacable, her crew and I are going back to K'Ronar and flush that vipers' nest at Combine T'Lan. I want Guan-Sharick on the battleglobe, with R'Gal, Harrison and the rest, when she goes back to the AIs' home universe. They're going to need help-very special, high-powered help."

Q'Nil set the chart down on the cotside table. "I see. How long have you known?"

"Since I walked into this room, just now, and saw how you'd fixed up R'Gal," said the commodore. "It's beyond the capability of anyone on this ship-hell! of anyone in the Confederation! By saving his life, you've given yourself away-and earned my trust."

"Your limited trust, no doubt?"

"Certainly," said the commodore. "You're utterly ruthless, and you'll never be forgiven what you did to galactic humanity-killing millions of us as a conditioning exercise." His face darkened at the thought. "And although your ultimate motives are obscure…"

"They don't contravene yours, Commodore."

D'Trelna smiled coldly. "We'll see. The point is, you need us. And we need you-and him." He nodded toward R'Gal.

The ship's medtech looked at the AI. "He's my friend, strange as that may seem." The transmute turned back to D'Trelna. "The Revolt, Commodore. You should have been there. AIs, humans, a few of us and some others-we rose against the shackles my people forged and broke free."

"Shackles you'd forged?"

"We're a telepathic, telekinetic race, D'Trelna. There were never very many of us. We built machines to serve us, and we built too well." He nodded toward R'Gal. "Look at him-intellect, free will, self-replication-the product of millennia of self-directed evolution. They were designed to be self-repairing." Guan-Sharick smiled. "They brought a new, wide perspective to the term."

"Did they really create mankind?" asked the commodore, looking at the AI. R'Gal seemed to be sleeping peacefully, chest gently rising and falling.

The transmute turned back to the commodore. "They sincerely believe they did. You needn't fear for your egos, though-the story's more complex than R'Gal cares to know.

"As the AI empire expanded, they encountered humans, usually either primitives or with only rudimentary spaceflight. The AIs found them to be intelligent but wild and-the cardinal sin-often illogical. So they created a new race of humans, starting with the basics of genetic engineering through eugenics. It seemed to work-until the Revolt."

"What happened?" asked D'Trelna, intrigued.

"What they'd done," said the transmute, "was to breed not for docility, but for subterfuge, creating humans who'd happily bow and scrape before their masters even as they plotted against them. I don't think the AIs ever recovered from the shock of seeing their handiwork coming for them with beamers.

"Those bioengineered humans who fought and fled with us interbred with other humans, so, in a sense, R'Gal was right-some of your genetic stock does come from AI tinkering. It doesn't seem to have hurt you."

"And Q'Nil?" asked D'Trelna. "What happened to him?"

"He was killed and replaced at the Lake of Dreams battle-replaced not by me, but by a S'Cotar. Trying to escape, I killed the S'Cotar."

"I don't believe that," said D'Trelna, eyes narrowing. "You killed Q'Nil and took his place."

Guan-Sharick shrugged. "Makes no difference, now, D'Trelna. We need each other, as you say. But you have my word-I did not kill that man. And my word is rarely given."

The commodore stared silently out the small armorglass window, then turned back to the transmute, shaking his head.

"What a mess you've made of two universes. You built AIs that enslaved everything they touched. Not content, you then created Pocsym and the S'Cotar and gave us the Biofab War. You're children-dangerous children."

"They're not children." R'Gal rose on the medcot. "They've accepted responsibility for their actions and tried to correct them. Given the variables and the time involved, Commodore, could you have done any better?" He shook his head. "I know I couldn't… Am I going to live?" asked the AI.

The transmute smiled. "With care, longer than you may want to."

"Thank you, old friend," said R'Gal.

"It seems I'm going with you, back home," added Guan-Sharick.

"Good idea," said R'Gal, standing. "And Lan-Asal?"

"He'll be staying on D'Lin, at his own request. The D'Linians need him-there'll be no help from K'Ronar, obviously."

"We have eight personnel who've opted out," said D'Trelna. "They didn't mind fighting AIs in their home universe, but the thought of returning to K'Ronar and probably being arrested with me was too much. They'll be working with Lan-Asal, lending aid and assistance to D'Lin. They're good people. I hope to come back for them-someday."