Stephen Berry - The Battle for Terra Two

"Did you see an inscription?" asked Bob, rubbing his eyes.

"Yes." D'Trelna opened his eyes as the red spots faded. "It's the Star of TTlar. Worn by every emperor of the First Dynasty-the House of S'Kal. Supposedly, it'll kill any who wear it who aren't descended from that House."

"I believe it," said Bob, eyes still watering.

"One box left, J'Quel," he said, nodding to the last one. "Want me to open it?"

"My job," he said, opening the box.

A yellow commwand lay beside a featureless black cube. The inside cover of the box read: Prototype two of two. Alternate Reality Linkage (spaceborne).

"Congratulations, Commodore," said McShane.

"Couldn't have done it without you, Bob," said D'Trelna. He tucked the box under his arm.

"Back toImplacable. Food, sleep. Listen to this commwand, brief Fleet, install the device…"He frowned. "We'll need another ship."

"Aren't your reinforcements due?" asked Bob as they stepped back onto the Agro deck. Behind them, the tomb's shield snapped back on.

"You heard the overmind," said D'Trelna. "Don't count your reinforcements before they arrive. The universe is full of nasty surprises."

K'Raoda turned from the tacscan to Ambassador Z'Sha. "They're here."

"Can we have visual, Commander?" Wearing the light blue uniform of a senior diplomat, Z'Sha stood beside the command chair, smelling of expensive Terran cologne, three rows of medals on his tunic and a great gold crimson-ribboned one around his neck. His v'arx leather boots would have cost K'Raoda a month's pay.

"Certainly, sir." He tapped out a command on the complink. At least the man was being polite. There'd been no mention of their previous encounter, at the victory celebration.

Above and to the front of the bridge, the big screen came alive, dividing in three. Two seemingly identical ships occupied its left and right segments: short, stubby craft, each with five weapons turrets facingImplacable.

The center image was of a very different sort of warship: long, sleek, about two-thirds the length ofImplacable, with twelve visible weapons turrets.

All three ships bore Fleet ID markers, with the correct maintenance access indicators visible on closeup. They sat in standard Fleet geosynchronous orbit formation, the smaller ships flanking the larger ship, one above, one below, at precisely the same distance.

"You are absolutely certain those are corsairs, Commander?" said Z'Sha, turning to K'Raoda.

"Yes, sir."

Z'Sha shook his head. "They're good enough to be in a Fleet recruiting vid."

"Those were Fleet units, Ambassador."

"What is that data readout under each ship?"

"Their course, range, shield and our weapons status relative to target."

"What is their shield status, Commander?"

"Down."

"And if we blasted them now?"

"We're too close for missiles-the blowback would wipe us. They're too many to take out with a single cannon salvo-their shields would snap up at the first beam hit. We'd then be blasting away at each other, well within Terra's gravity. At this range, if one ship went up, we'd all go up. Poisonous debris would rain down on the planet, be absorbed into the food, air and water chains. Millions would die. We might even kill the oceans." He leaned toward the complink. "Indeed, computer projects…"

"Enough," said Z'Sha, running a hand through his perfectly set white hair. "I'm convinced. Get me commlink to that cruiser. I'll do my part."

"…promise you a memorable reception, Captain."

"We're looking forward to it, Ambassador," said K'Tran.

"You're sure so many personnel won't strainImplacable's facilities?"

"Her commander assures me they will not, Captain."

"Is this the same commander who was going to fire on us as we came in?" smiled K'Tran.

"Forgive him, Captain. He's very young."

"Fine. Consider us there, Ambassador. And thank you."

Z'Sha's image vanished from the desk screen. K'Tran turned to his executive officer. "What do you think, Number One?"

"Could be a trap." A'Tir was younger than he, but just as tough, a thin kid from a grimy industrial planet who'd risen through the ranks of the prewar Fleet, becoming third officer of a light cruiser-and a successful drug runner. When the S'Cotar had annihilated most of the Second Fleet, she and K'Tran had been quick to take advantage of the chaos, going corsair.

"Could be a trap, but is it?" said K'Tran, looking up from his desk. "Why should they suspect anything? We're what they want-reinforcements."

"The skipcomm buoy?"

K'Tran shrugged. "Even the best machines sometimes fail."

"Still…"

He waved a hand, the silver Academy ring catching the light. "You worry too much. This is our chance to add a heavy cruiser to our little squadron. We can start raiding closer in-hit primary shipping points. And that world down there-Terra-is open for some leisurely looting."

"You're so greedy, Y'Dan," she said.

"Of course I'm greedy," he laughed. "I'm a corsair!"

"Listen to me," she said intensely. "I say we blastImplacable now, while her shield's down, divide up our money and disperse. With the war over. Fleet's going to hunt us down and kill us."

"They'll try. We weren't expecting the Valor Medal."

She stood behind him, long tanned fingers massaging his muscular shoulders. "There's this grade-seven planet, Y'Dan, that's been offchart since the Fall. No people. Iknow a stretch of coast where the mountains tumble into the sea-lush, tropical, fruit growing wild. Warm night breezes under triple moons. We could…"

He stood, shaking her hand off. "We could what?" he said. "Eat fruit, live naked, love in the sand?"

A'Tir's face reddened.

"You sound like a travel broker, Number One.

"We have two commissions to execute," he continued, voice clipped. "For our primary client, removeImplacable. For our secondary client, fill those forty-one brainpods we're carrying. SeizingImplacable accomplishes both tasks and gives us a L'Aal-class heavy cruiser. And perhaps a side foray to Terra-nothing like a little rape and pillage to perk up the crew.

"We'll take all but a skeleton crew to the reception. How many shuttle craft is that?"

"Twelve," she said, emotions tucked back behind her usual diffidence. "Three hundred and twenty-one crew, dressed and armed as Fleet personnel."

"Eleven boats to land," K'Tran said. "I want you to command number twelve-thirty of your best fighters. Once insideImplacable's shield, have your pilot turn back forNew Hope, reporting engine trouble. Proceed parallel to the top hull…" He touched the complink. An engineering schematic ofImplacable's forward outside hull appeared. "Here." An access pod just behind the bridge began glowing orange. "That's the lift. Free drop as near to it as you can. Reaching it, just push the call tab and take it down to the bridge entrance."

"Fine," she said, looking at the screen. "We get to the bridge doors. They're armored and locked. A blastpak strong enough to take them out will destroy part of the bridge."

"Use this." He handed her a small black wedge.

"What is it?" she asked, turning it over in her hand.

"Shaped charge-pre-production model from K'Ronar via our primary client. See those rills along the bottom edge? That side is magnetized. Put it on the bridge doors and count to ten. It'll punch through them with no blowback."

"Cute," she said, carefully pocketing it, the magnetized side toward her body. "What about detection?"

"You'll be well inside the perimeter scan. Just avoid the hull-sensor clusters. If computer picks up an input anomaly, it's going to alert the bridge. Get to the lift and you're in."

"It may work," she said grudgingly.

"Of course it will work. I planned it."

"So, we take the bridge while you're shooting up the crew. Then what?"