The AI War (20 page)

"It isn't," said G'Sol. "But I know where it is."

"How?" said L'Kor.

"University field trip," she said.

"What? Five, seven years ago?"

"Yes."

"No," said the major. "I'm not risking all our lives on a half-remembered field trip, Captain." Turning abruptly, L'Kor walked back toward the brush.

"He'll come around," said G'Sol as the two women followed.

"When?" said Zahava. The captain didn't answer.

A woman in mufti had joined the waiting troopers. She was talking to the senior NCO when L'Kor stepped into the clearing.

"They're processing the children tomorrow," said the woman in a rush. She was young, round-faced, her eyes shining bright and angry in the light from the battletorches. "The order just went out to the education commission. The bus convoy's to be at the processing center by noon."

"Lieutenant S'Lat, Zahava Tal," said the major.

The lieutenant nodded at the Terran, then continued. "They're to be shipped from their schools first thing in the morning. The usual lie—inoculation and relocation. What are we going to do, Major?"

Zahava felt Lieutenant S'Lat would do something alone if she had to. Then the Terran looked at the questioning circle of faces surrounding L'Kor, and knew the lieutenant wouldn't be alone. You're about to have a mutiny, Major, she thought.

"Some of you think I've avoided engaging the enemy because I'm a coward," said the major, eyes at the troopers. "I'm not a coward. I'm not a fool. I wasn't going to squander our lives—I wanted us to buy something with them. Now's our moment—we'll buy the children back. We'll take the AIs ' butcher hall, get the children out the tubes, fight a holding action, then blow the place up when the counterattack breaks through.

"Anyone wants out, fall out," he said in the same easy voice. "You're free to go."

No one moved.

"Very well," he said. "We'll commandeer some transport and go in behind the bus convoy."

"It's not your fight," L'Kor said a few moments later as the unit moved quietly down the hill toward the road.

"Of course it is," said Zahava. "Those machines want us all dead, every human in this galaxy. It's as much my duty to fight them here as it would be yours to fight them on my world."

"We'll all be killed," said the major.

The Terran shrugged, a gesture lost to the night. "We all die."

Zahava glanced up when they reached the roadway. The stars were out, a few of them growing fainter, moving away from D'Lin—AI ships headed into space. And where are you going in such a rush? she wondered as they set up the ambush.

D'Trelna entered the bridge and went to his station, acknowledging the commandos' salutes with a curt nod. "Well?" he said, sinking into the flag chair.

L'Wrona turned from his console. "We're ready for the final jump into the D'Linian system. All sections are at battle stations."

"Damage control?"

"We've recovered from the algorithm," said the captain. "All life support systems are at optimum. There was some minor water damage to hangar deck electronics— nothing serious. Final report pending."

"Communications with FleetOps?" he asked, knowing the answer.

"Still out. The problem's not in the skipcomm buoy— we've tried two others. There's a general blockage on all skipcomm bands."

D'Trelna dialed up a fata. "Interesting," he said, frowning at the small plume of steam. "Have we a position?"

L'Wrona nodded. "Halfway across the quadrant."

"Plot it. We'll visit them after D'Lin," said the commodore, sipping. "Stand by to jump."

As L'Wrona gave the orders N'Trol's face flashed onto D'Trelna's comm screen. "Commodore," he nodded.

"Ah, Mr. N'Trol," smiled D'Trelna. "Ship all tidied up?"

"Of course," said the engineer. "I've called to report that one of the U'Sur long-range fighters has had its on-board computer replaced by a shuttle's on-board computer."

Implacable
carried ten fighters—they'd come with the ship out of stasis and were rarely used. The U'Sur was a deep-space fighter, designed to combat similar craft trying to destroy their mother ship. It was a tactic little used since the Empire, thus relegating the U'Surs to infrequent joy-rides by junior officers, or to the occasional danger-fraught courier run.

"So?" said D'Trelna.

N'Trol sighed. "That's a fine machine, Commodore. Integrate it with any small ship I know of, from shuttle to recon craft, and you'd have an intelligent, deadly little ship, totally loyal to its mission programming."

"So?" repeated the commodore, finishing his t'ata as the jump klaxon sounded.

"So we're missing a lifepod," N'Trol said, disconnecting.

"So we are," said D'Trelna to himself. He was still thinking about it when they jumped.

A great black gash in the green veldt was all that remained of the old Imperial port of D'Lin. Its buildings had long ago been scrapped, leaving only the duraplast landing field to stand against the years. Save for the delicate network of cracks lacing it, the field stood undamaged by the centuries, mute witness to the durability of Imperial technology.

The AIs' processing center sat in the middle of the broad field, rising from the plain as one approached. Zahava and L'Kor stood, hanging onto the canopy frame and looking over the truck cab toward the center, now perhaps a half mile away down the deserted two-lane road.

Zahava had been expecting Dachau—what she saw was understated but just as chilling: five low, square white buildings, surrounded by a fence, shining beneath the early morning sun. A white flag with a green circle flew over the center building. The gate was closed and guarded by two sentries wearing the same uniform as L'Kor and his troopers.

"Health and Healing," said the major, looking at the flag.

They'd stolen the truck from two goods drivers and they'd left the men tied by the roadside. Then they'd piled into the back. G'Sol at the wheel and S'Lat beside her, they'd driven through the last of the night. Zahava had tried to sleep, but the uneven road surface and the everlasting humidity had kept her awake through most of the ride, sweating and worrying—worrying about John, worrying about
Implacable,
worrying about D'Lin and this frail expedition. Exhausted, she'd finally slumped against L'Kor, sleeping the last few miles as dawn came and they left the rain forest behind.

The major had awakened as they'd passed twenty-four lavender school buses, empty save for the drivers, headed back to the city.

L'Kor slid open the back window to the cab. "Right through," he said. "Hard and fast, as planned." G'Sol nodded, eyes on the road.

L'Kor turned back to his unit. "Positions," he ordered, bracing the now-familiar blastrifle against the cab roof. Zahava did the same. The troopers knelt, facing outward, weapons steadied along the hard wooden benches, the muzzles protruding just below the canopy hem.

The sentries stopped patrolling as the truck approached, unslinging their rifles. They relaxed as the truck slowed, then died as Zahava and the major opened fire. The sentries' bodies sparked blue as the blaster bolts tore through them, slamming back against the gate.

"AIs!" Zahava shouted as they rammed through the gate and into the compound.

Sirens warbled, sounding the alert as the truck careened toward the center building. More AIs in D'Linian uniform appeared, blasting away at the truck. The trooper behind Zahava pitched suddenly backward, half his face blown away.

The truck screeched to a halt, the troopers charging over the tailboard, firing, running for the building. L'Kor and Zahava scrambled over the top of the cab, sliding to the ground as three AIs burst out of the building, pistols in hand. There was a quick exchange of blaster bolts, Zahava briefly blinded by a fierce, green bolt flashing past her eyes.

She felt a hand on her arm, lowering it from her face. "It's ail right," came the major's voice. "We got them."

The shrill of the blasters had stopped. Zahava looked around, her vision clearing. About fifteen AIs littered the compound, bodies still smoldering from the blaster hits. Three troopers were dead, two beside the truck, the other with the AIs at the foot of the stairs. The alarm siren was still screaming.

"Is that it?" she asked, turning to the major. But he was kneeling beside the truck cab, cradling G'Sol's body in his arms. There was a big charred hole through the captain's chest.

"The kids are inside—they're fine," called Lieutenant S'Lat from the doorway. "All secure. We
..."
She stopped when she saw the scene by the cab.

Shit, thought Zahava. She turned to the lieutenant. "Anyone else know where the tube entrance is?" she asked, looking out at the long miles of duraplast.

S'Lat shook her head. Around her, directed by the last NCO, troopers were setting the demolition charges along the other two buildings.

"What are your orders, Major?" asked the lieutenant gently, an arm to L'Kor's shoulder.

The major stood, wiping his face with a dirty shirt sleeve. He took a deep breath. "Into the main building, as planned. We'll fight to the end. Better the kids should die with us than be sent off to eternal slavery. Sergeant H'Sak!"

The NCO turned. "Sir?"

"Command detonation on those charges. Run your wires up to the roof of this building.'' He jerked a thumb over his shoulder. "We'll make our stand there."

H'Sak gave a quick nod, then turned, shouting orders.

Following the D'Linians into the building, Zahava looked skyward. It won't be long now, she thought.

Y'Gar looked up as the door to his private dining room opened. U'Kal came in quickly and walked to the desk. He stood, looking down at the fat middle-aged man. The exarch's mouth was half full of the lightly seasoned k'nor hen. "Yes?" he said, lowering the drumstick and wiping his fingers on the napkin covering his lap.

"A force of your soldiers, armed with K'Ronarin Fleet weapons, has seized the processing center. A warship of the K'Ronarin Confederation has just entered this system— more may follow."

"So?" said Y'Gar, sipping wine.

"So I'm seizing two thousand of your citizens and removing them to our processing ship," said U'Kal. "There will be violence, of course, and we'll suffer casualties. But we're out of time."

"Have you given the order yet?" asked Y'Gar, finishing his wine.

"I will the instant I leave this room," said the AI commander.

"Then you won't be leaving this room," said the exarch. His right hand held a small pistol, pointed at the AI.

U'Kal smiled. "You can't hurt me, Y'Gar. I'm command grade and blaster-shielded."

"Look again," said the exarch, pointing to the number "3" etched into the weapon's grips.

The AI blinked. "Of the Revolt? You?"

Y'Gar nodded.

"Impossible. That was tens of thousands of years ago. Nothing lives that long, not even in suspension."

"You lived that long," said the exarch.

"I'm a machine," said the AI. "You . . ." He was suddenly staring at a young, blond man, dressed in a white jumpsuit.

The transmute stared back at him, amused. "Familiar?" he asked. "But how?"

The transmute spoke one word, then fired as the AI nodded in comprehension.

When U'Kal's guards entered, a few seconds later, they found their leader immobilized and the exarch gone.

"Who the hell are they?" said D'Trelna, leaning over K'Raoda and peering at the tacscan of the ships orbiting D'Lin. L'Wrona stood on the other side of the first officer.

"They appear to be armed merchantmen, Commodore," said K'Raoda, making an adjustment. Augmented data trailed across the small screen. "X'Ankar-class—armed to the earlobes with all sorts of illegals. Mark Eighty-eights, shipbusters. Not transmitting IDs."

"Combine T'Lan, of course," said R'Gal. The AI stood just behind K'Raoda. "Waiting for the vanguard of the Fleet of the One."

"Yes, but why?" said the commodore, turning to R'Gal. "We faced an AI ship off Terra Two—only a miracle saved us. Why would those ships need a vanguard? I could understand one or two ships, bearing intelligence data, but a flotilla?"

"Obviously, there's something on that planet they want," said L'Wrona. "A mission-critical-something."

D'Trelna's fist slammed down on his chairarm. "Harvesting! They're brainstripping those people! It's got to be."

"Of course," said R'Gal. "D'Lin is the key to everything—the Trel Cache, the rendezvous point for the AIs, and Zahava's destination. Which means
..."

"Guan-Sharick knows all this and set it up," said the commodore. "Why send Zahava there?"

"We'll find out soon, I think," said R'Gal, looking back at the tacscan.

"They've made us," said K'Raoda. On the main screen, the tacscan showed the Combine ships breaking orbit, heading out to intercept
Implacable.

"Hmm. Eighteen of them," said D'Trelna. "Not good."

"Notice how one ship remains on station," said R'Gal. "That's their command ship;—probably their processing ship, too. We should take it."

" 'We'?" said L'Wrona, joining the conversation.

"How many demonstrations of my sincerity and goodwill do you need, Captain?" said R'Gal.

"Later," said D'Trelna, eyes back on the tacscan. "R'Gal's right, H'Nar—that's the ship we want. It'll answer a lot of questions." He looked at the captain. "Do you tell N'Trol, or do I?"

"You're going to get us all killed!" The monitor captured perfectly the red-flushed tint of N'Trol's face. "To tight-jump is dangerous enough, but to tight-jump in toward a planetary mass . . . ! The gravitational distortion alone . . ."

"How long to cycle up?" asked D'Trelna.

Calming, the engineer took a deep breath. "Not long," he said. "I'll set it in myself and give you the count. You'll have to drop shield."

"I know," said D'Trelna. But the comm screen had already flicked off.

The counterattack came at noon—a solid phalanx of AI blades sweeping out of the sun, blasting and slicing their way along the rooftop. Spread in a ragged circle around Major L'Kor, the troopers blasted back, hitting six of the lead machines. Efficient butchers to the end, the little horrors plowed into the roof, exploding in an orange
whoosh!
of flame, sharp pieces of wreckage slicing into the humans.