Final Assault (26 page)

"Does the first leader wish me to conclude my report, or does he wish to share his intriguing historical perspective with me?"

Before Sutak could reply, the alert sounded. "Hostiles approaching," reported battle command, deep in the heart of the great ship.

"In what force?" said the first leader.

"Two million craft—all smaller than a battleglobe."

"On my way. Keep as many of the abandoned ships between us and them as you can."

"Not more rocks," said Sutak, reading the tacscan. Battle command was at full strength, a great round amphitheater of a room, the first leader's station in the center, set above the concentric rings of command and communications stations. Sutak was looking at the hologram in the air above his station. A wave of rocks was rushing the Fleet of the One.

"Intelligence identifies it as the K'Ronarin defense perimeter known as Line," said the first strategist, Orlac. Human-adapted, he appeared twenty years younger than Sutak. "Those are really asteroids, but they mount fusion and missile batteries. Combine T'Lan didn't indicate Line's units could maneuver independently."

"And where is their fleet?" asked Sutak, gaze shifting to a tactical data trail. "Their official fleet?"

"Deployed in four battle groups off K'Ronar," said Orlac. "None of their weapons can penetrate our screens. We should expect suicide runs after we dispose of Line."

"Enemy in range," advised Operations.

"Open fire," ordered Sutak.

"Logically, the command ship would be their centermost vessel," said Line.

"Logically," said Admiral L'Guan, watching the tacscan, "they would expect us to conclude that."

"Logically, they would expect us to conclude that it was too logical an assumption for it to be true," said Line airily, "and would maintain their original position."

"Press toward the center and see if they get worried," ordered L'Guan.

"You'd think they'd at least let us have a scan tap," said D'Trelna, pouting at the blank screens. Except for his and L'Wrona's stations,
Implacable's
bridge was deserted.

"If those battleglobes picked up on that scantap, J'Quel," said the captain, "then we'd all die in vain." Touching the complink, he called up a diagnostic of the cruiser's shield.

"Oh, I think we may do that anyway," said the commodore, dialing up a steaming cup of t'ata from the flag chair's beverager. "Eleven, almost twelve years we've survived, H'Nar." He shook his head. "How many friends, relatives have we lost between us?"

Satisfied with their shield, L'Wrona cleared the scan from his console and swiveled to face D'Trelna. "More than I care to count. Why?"

"Oh, I don't know," sighed the commodore, looking into the brown t'ata. "It just seems that we were always fighting harder, further from home and against the most overwhelming odds. And to what end, H'Nar?"

"We won every battle," said the captain.

"Only delaying the inevitable, perhaps," said D'Trelna, sipping his t'ata. "I wonder what happened to
Devastator?"
he added.

"Since the AI Fleet is here and about to turn us into evanescent gas," said the captain, "we may assume that they're dead." He shook his head. "You're usually the one who's full of hope, J'Quel. How about showing some?"

The commodore snorted, downed the rest of his t'ata and crumpled the cup into the disposer.

Turning back to his console, L'Wrona punched up a vidscan of
Implacable'
s cavernous hangar deck. The Prime Base garrison filled its far end, many of them sitting on the cold battlesteel beside the waiting assault craft, quietly checking their weapons, others clustered nearby. There seemed to be little conversation.

L'Wrona touched a key. The scan zoomed in on a solitary figure beside the blue shimmer of the atmosphere curtain: N'Trol. He stood with hands clasped behind his back, looking out on their rocky womb. "Now, there's a lonely man," said L'Wrona, nodding at the pickup.

The commodore stepped over to the captain's station, a fresh cup of t'ata in hand. "Not so lonely now," he said as Lieutenant S'Til joined the Heir, touching his arm. Turning and seeing who it was, he nodded and smiled. The two chatted for a moment, then both laughed.

"What's so funny about going off to get sliced by some blades?" grumbled D'Trelna, returning to his post.

"One of humanity's endearing traits, J'Quel," said L'Wrona, turning off the pickup. "We can laugh at our own end." A telltale beeped on his console.

"Here we go," said the captain, and touched the commlink. "General address. Alert status three," he said, his voice booming through the hangar deck. "This is it. Third assault wave's going in."

"Hardly a bold attack," said Admiral L'Guan, frowning at the screen. "They continue advancing as a single massive wave. Why not break out into separate units, some engaging our pathetic defense, others striking at K'Ronar?"

"Their tactics indicate a fixed-response mindset," said Line.

"One would expect a lack of imagination from machines," said L'Guan.

"I would remind the Admiral that I am part machine," said Line.

"Only part," said L'Guan. "The rest of you is five Imperial admirals, one security master and a chaplain."

"My point, sir, is that there's a wide cognitive gap between a computer and an AI," said Line. "About as wide as the gap between you and a v'arx."

"Surely the AIs could build a battleglobe as smart as themselves," protested L'Guan.

"No doubt," said Line. "But what if the battleglobe decided it was smarter than the AIs?"

"I see. Yes," he said. "So?"

"So the tactics of the Fleet of the One now indicate that we face uncrewed battleglobes, receiving general orders from a central AI commander, but implementing them without further instruction and with unsurpassed dullness."

"Kiss my mother," said L'Guan, his eyes widening.

"Biog states your mother is dead, Admiral," said Line.

L'Guan shook his head. 'An expression popular among cadets some years ago, Line. Why is all but a tiny part of that invasion armada uncrewed? And where is their command ship?"

"No idea why they're uncrewed, Admiral. As for the command ship, where would you be if you were in command?"

"The safest point, of course," said L'Guan, looking at the screen and the advancing Fleet. "Dead center."

"I can suggest an attack pattern to make them open a path to their center, Admiral—if you want to play our hunch."

"See what he's doing?" said Sutak, pointing to the projection.

"Being destroyed piecemeal," said Orlac, standing beside the first leader's chair.

Line's lead elements had attacked the AI Fleet's lead squadrons and been warded off by waves of missiles and a virtual wall of fusion fire. The lead squadrons scattered, pursuing Line's fleeing units.

As the AIs watched, a fresh attack wave poured in, exchanged fire with the lead squadrons and broke off to either side, more battleglobes pursuing. The Fleet of the One's original solid phalanx was now just a round core with two elongated arms speeding away from it, the arms themselves fragmenting as single globes chased single enemy units.

"He's opening a slot right toward us," said Sutak. "I think they've detected we're a little short of help." He turned from the projection. "Operations. Direct all pursuing squadrons to disengage and resume original formation."

"I believe the first leader's order may be too late," said Larn. All but forgotten, the first cyberneticist hovered to the right of Sutak's station.

The first leader turned back to the hologram and a new tactical projection: thirty-five blips were moving down the slot at close to light speed.

"We can intercept with globes yellow seven alpha green one through four," said Orlac.

"No." Sutak shook his head emphatically. "I'm not going to put four crewed ships at risk to save one just because our expensive hides are aboard. Have all crewed globes except this one scatter. We'll stand off this suicide run ourselves. Ten thousand shipbuster missiles and every fusion battery we can bring to bear against thirty-five small, lightly armed asteroids should end it. Give the order."

"I just want to say, D'Trelna," said a familiar voice from the commodore's chairarm, "that if this doesn't work, these years with you have been an education."

D'Trelna laughed. "Well, Mr. N'Trol, if it does work, I want you to know—I'll always remember you as the sardonic authority-hater who saved our asses a least a dozen times."

"And I'll remember you as the fat man who saved more than just his ship a hundred times. Luck, Commodore."

"Luck, Engineer."

The circuit clicked off.

"Incoming," said a machine voice—the voice of the computer guiding the asteroid in whose hollow belly
Implacable
nestled. "Incoming shipbusters," repeated the computer, voice sounding through the hangar deck. The waiting troopers threw themselves prone on the deck.

"Shield frequency," said D'Trelna tensely, moving down into the navigator's chair.

"Matched," said L'Wrona, fingers entering a series of numbers, then pushing the Execute. Outside, the shield blinked off, then on again, holding steady.

"Let's hope it's still current," said the commodore.

Before L'Wrona answered, the AI missiles exploded into Line's tiny attack force, destroying
Implacable'
's host.

"Filters to max," said the first leader, hands shading his eyes. Even to AI eyes, the holographic projection was a single unbearable ball of red-orange flame.

"Well done, sir," said Orlac as the fireball slowly dissippated. "All targets ..." He stopped, staring.

Long and silver, something burst from the flames, growing in size until it filled the projection.

"L'Aal-class cruiser, K'Ronarin Fleet," said Operations quickly. "Heavily armed, carries up to two hundred crew. She'll break up against our shield."

"If the shield frequencies
Devastator
carried are correct," said L'Wrona, watching the battleglobe grow to fill the scan, "then we have a chance."

Thick red fusion beams lashed at
Implacable,
tearing at her shield as she closed on the battleglobe.

"Here we go," said D'Trelna, gritting his teeth; he sent the cruiser ramming into the AI's shield, blue and red merging.

There was a brief confusion of colors on the board, the scan breaking up into a tumbling kaleidoscope, then it cleared.

"Gods of my fathers, through!" shouted D'Trelna. Hands dancing over the helm controls, he dropped the cruiser lower. Outside, the fusion fire raking the cruiser slackened then stopped as
Implacable
dropped below the cannons' minimum azimuth.

Endless sensor and comm clusters, missiles and fusion batteries flashed by, massive gray and silent, as
Implacable
raced for the battleglobe's southern pole.

"Brilliant," said Sutak, watching as
Implacable
flew unopposed across his command ship.

"Enemy ship identified as
Implacable,"
reported Orlac, turning from a complink. "Has figured prominently in all engagements with our contemporary recons into this universe. Defeated us at Terra Two unaided. Defeated us at D'Lin with some help."

"Why isn't he bombarding us?" mused Sutak, watching the projection.

"Perhaps," said Orlac, "he's going to invade us."

The two AIs looked at each other. "Of course," said the first leader, eyes flashing. "That's just what he's going to do!" "But. . ."

"Operations," said Sutak. "Do we have a probable on enemy ship's destination?"

"Hangar green alpha one three," came the answer after a brief pause.

"Where is that?" It was Larn. The first cyberneticist was an agitated red sphere, bobbing beside the first leader's station.

Sutak pointed past Larn toward the command center's thick blast doors. "Through there, first right, second left. He's coming here—for us."

"What are you doing about this? What are you doing about this?" shrieked the first cyberneticist.

"Unless you leave now," said Sutak, "I'm sending every cyberneticist on this vessel into that hangar bay. If we're fortunate, they might mistake you for intelligent life." He turned to Orlac. "Ever see what a blaster hit does to a vacuum-sealed cyberball?"

"It was dogmatic martinets like that who got us into this," said Orlac as Larn streaked for the door. "A desperate plague fleet with no future.

"Just what are your orders?" asked Orlac.

Sutak shrugged. "They want me, I'm available. Security condition one—all blades to hangar bay green alpha one three. Advise security commander that I will coordinate the counterattack. Transfer command of the fleet to Hasi on our sister ship."

Sutak stood, smiling. "You know, Orlac, I'm looking forward to meeting this cruiser commander who's given us such a hard time."

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