Stephen Berry - The Battle for Terra Two

"Acknowledged."

Security seemed as deserted as the rest of the ship. S'Til walked past the central guard station and down the corridor, glancing into each of the ten detention rooms. The first four held no surprises-doors open, beds neatly made, a dresser, table, entertainment equipment, food unit, lavatory.

The door to the fifth room was shut. "Room five, Detention, is locked," she said over the commnet. "I'm going in."

"Wait for reinforcements," said K'Raoda.

Ignoring him, she stepped back, aimed carefully and fired, blowing the lock controller away without fusing the lock. She went through the door as it slid open, MilA levelled.

"And who the hell are you?" said the redhead in the brown K'Ronarin uniform, ignoring the blaster aimed at her chest.

"English," said S'Til, not lowering the weapon. "Is your name M'Kenzie?"

"MacKenzie." She took a step toward S'Til.

The commando officer held up a palm. "Stay there.

"Commander," she said into the communicator. "I need a decon team down here. They had a Terran prisoner."

"Machines have poked, prodded and probed me," said Heather, cheeks flushed. "One especially vile metallic thing was shoved into my…"

"Enough!" John held up his hands. "Did Q'Nil tell you w/iy?"

Oblivious to the two Terrans, the medtech was busy at the exam room's lab console, reading Heather's final workup.

"Something about biological vectors," she said, glaring at Q'Nil.

"She's clean," announced Q'Nil in English, looking up from the console. "You can send her home."

"Q'Nil," said John, "tell Heather why you did outrageous things to her body."

"I tried," he said, stepping around the console. "She was shouting too loudly."

"I'm listening," she said coldly.

"Our machine friends could have turned you into a carrier of some very deadly latent bacillus," he said, meeting her look. "Anyone coming in contact with you would also have become a carrier. After a year, the bacillus would activate, killing you, everyone you'd passed it to, everyone they'd passed it to, on into infinity. Not so long and your world would be free of people."

Heather had grown very pale. "This has happened before?" she asked in a small voice.

Q'Nil nodded. "Long time ago. The Machine Wars. But under strikingly similar circumstances. Captive found, taken home, embraced by family and friends."

"And a world died?" she said.

"A quadrant died. Over two hundred inhabited planets, half a trillion people." He walked to the food server, punching up a cup of soup. "It's still there, on the star charts-the Plague Quadrant. The corpses are dust, the buildings and machines in ruins, cities overgrown. Fleet sends robot probes in now and then, taking samples-the Plague's still there, latent, awaiting a carrier. Formidable automated defense networks keep those planets and their buried wealth safe from greedy madmen-and us safe from the bacillus. Ironic that machines protect us from what machines wrought.

"Something to eat?" he asked, blowing gently on hot, clear liquid.

They shook their heads.

"Come on, lady," said John. "I'll give you a tour ofImplacable."

"Fine." She turned at the door. "Sorry I was such a jerk, Q'Nil. Thanks."

"Happiness and long life, MacKenzie," he said, saluting her with upraised cup. He stepped to the commlink as the door closed. "Well?" demanded D'Trelna.

"They dosed her with a binary agent, Commodore. I almost missed it."

"What is a binary agent?"

"A war bacillus harmless in itself. Call it type zero. If type zero meets the other half of the equation, though…"

"Type one?"

"Yes-type one. Each mutates the other into the same deadly, highly communicable killer."

"So what good does it do for them to have just type zero walking around on Terra Two?"

"They must have seeded the locals with type one when they held Maximus, Commodore. MacKenzie's type zero would spread from person to person, remaining in their systems, even as type one is now spreading. They'd inevitably meet and the Plague would start."

"We came that close," D'Trelna held thumb and forefinger slightly apart, "to another corpse world?"

"We did."

D'Trelna sat silent for a moment, looking at the status board without seeing it. He turned back to the commlink. "She's clean now?"

"More than clean." He sipped his lukewarm soup. "She'll be spreading a counter bacillus that destroys both binary types."

"Thank you, Q'Nil."

"Oh, Commodore?"

"Yes?" D'Trelna's finger paused over the comm switch. "The primary bacillus-the killer-it's the one used against the Empire. It's the Plague Quadrant bacteria."

"You look good," said John as they walked down the corridor, heading for the lift. "Especially for someone who's been held in the brig for about a month."

"When I came tumbling through that portal, I was sure they'd kill me," she said. "Instead they put me in detention-and ignored me. I learned how to use the food machine. And the entertainment link was a godsend. It's programmed for English. Anything you want to know about the S'Cotar, the biofab war, I can tell you, as long as it was in ship's computer. I can even read some K'Ronarin.

"When can I go home?" she asked, as they reached the lift.

"A couple of hours," said John, pushing the calltab. "D'Trelna wants to get back to Terra One." The lift arrived, announcing itself with a faint ping.

"You'll be delighted to know," he said, as they boarded, "that an old friend will be joining you on the flight home."

"Come," called Hochmeister as the door chimed. He sat at his cabin's small desk, looking at a page of closely written notes.

D'Trelna came in, attired in his usual rumpled brown duty uniform.

"Ah, Commodore," said Hochmeister. "Have a seat." The drab K'Ronarin uniform seemed made for him.

"Thank you, no," said D'Trelna. "We've finished testing the portal device aboard our destroyer, Admiral. We're leaving this charming universe almost immediately. Where would you like us to set you down?"

"Berlin. Midday, midweek, atop the Brandenburg Gate. I'd appreciate it if the shuttle could approach booming out Wagner-'The Ride of the Valkyries,' I think."

"Admiral…"

"Just joking, Commodore," he said with a smile. Taking off his bifocals, he set them atop his notepad and looked up at D'Trelna, hands folded. "My home is Dresden, a quaint city of the baroque. There're a number of parks. Just slip me into one at night. I'll take a cab."

"Fine." He stepped to the door.

"You don't like me, do you, Commodore?"

"Like you?" frowned D'Trelna, turning back. He shook his head. "No, I don't like you, Admiral. Oh, you're a cultured, intelligent man-you can be quite charming when you want to be. But you have the soul of an Imperial Security Master-you're a tireless and ruthless servant of Order. Happily, people like you are rare. Perhaps you kill each other off."

"Peace, Commodore," said Hochmeister easily. "I serve the peace."

D'Trelna shrugged. "Call it what you will.

"Please be ready to leave in an hour. I'll send an officer to escort you to hangar deck." He left the room, the door hissing shut behind him.

As Hochmeister picked up his glasses, the door chimed again.

It was D'Trelna. "You've piqued my curiosity, Admiral," he said before Hochmeister could speak. "You've been on board for a week, have left only once, and are logging almost continuous computer time. What the hell are you doing?"

"Just being a policeman, Commodore-serving Order. You have a S'Cotar on this ship."

D'Trelna glanced out the armorglass. The stars shimmered faintly, their light distorted by the shield. "Impossible."

"Guan-Sharick is on board. Probably since you defeated the S'Cotar off Terra One."

The commodore sat down facing the desk. "Explain."