Final Assault (27 page)

"Target penetrated." l'wrona's
voice echoed through the cruiser's hangar deck. "Stand by for the go. Stand by for the go."

"Positions!" cried N'Trol, leaping to his feet. "Let's go!"

"Never thought to see you leading the charge," said S'Til as the troopers formed an assault line stretching the width of the air curtain.

"Not something you'll see again," said N'Trol, stepping through the long line of troopers to take up position center front.
"I
've been in a few messy firefights, but nothing like this." He looked down the assault line, left, then right. Brown uniforms were intermingled with black, commandos with starship and ground personnel. What few officers and NCOs had survived were positioned along the line's front. All stood nervously gripping their rifles, waiting, staring through the blue shimmer of the atmosphere curtain. Outside, dark and diffuse, great inchoate shadows flickered across the curtain as
Implacable
sped into the battleglobe.

"Don't you have a unit?" asked N'Trol.

The commando officer shook her head. "No."

"Fine," said the Heir. "You're now my aide and a full colonel. If we win, I'll make it permanent."

"If we win," said S'Til, drawing her side-arm, "you'll make me a civilian—with colonel's pension. Deal?"

N'Trol laughed. "Deal, S'Til," he said, drawing his own weapon.

"I've seen it before, but it still impresses me," said D'Trelna.

A great gray cavern, its deck lined with cruisers, interceptors and assault craft, the battleglobe's hangar facility could have held a thousand
Implacable'^
and still looked empty.

Implacable
slipped silently past the AI ships, moving on her n-gravs toward the distant end of the cavern.

"Access portal should be coming up," said L'Wrona, eyes shifting between the diagram on his complink and the forward view on the bridge screen. "They must know we're here —maybe it'll take them a few more minutes to pull a reaction force together."

"Wrong," said D'Trelna.

L'Wrona looked up as the commodore brought the slowed cruiser to a stop.

Security blades were rushing into the hangar facility, forming an assault line in front of the open corridor leading to the battleglobe's heart.

L'Wrona touched the commlink as
Implacable
settled on her landing struts. "Hostiles to the front, My Liege."

"I see them," said N'Trol as the atmosphere curtain winked off. He raised his sidearm. "Forward!" he cried, leaping onto the battleglobe.

"Where's Orlac?" demanded the first leader. "He's supposed to be coordinating the reserves." Sutak stood in flight control, looking down on the hangar through the armorglass wall. Outside, the humans were charging, an impossibly small number against the blades that swarmed toward them.

"Dead," said the blade hovering beside Sutak, Security Commander Jnor. "Plague."

Crisscrossing blaster fire, muffled explosions and screams—Sutak was only dimly aware of it. "This is all futile, then," he said. "If the virus is here, we're all dead—and so are they." He nodded toward the humans as they closed on the security blades.

"What does the cross signify?" asked John, breaking the silence.

Guan-Sharick turned from the weathered stone, her blue eyes distant. "It marks the resting place of a hope, Harrison—the hope that we could be better than we were, man and machine."

"And which are you?" asked K'Raoda.

"Neither and both," said the transmute. She squatted on the ground, studying a thin blade of grass. "I and a few others were the will and the spirit of this place—computer-generated simulacra is the closest term. And though the computer's long gone, we continued. When the original . . . owners . . . passed on, we became their stewards. We in turn created the AIs, our dutiful helpers." She rose, shaking her head. "You've seen the result."

"You've all but destroyed two universes," said Zahava.

"All but," said Guan-Sharick, and vanished, only to reappear a moment later, a flat white case in her hand. She gave it to Harrison, who took it uneasily. "Now what?" he asked, studying it. It bore the by now familiar pyramid on both sides, the uncanny blue eyes staring up at him.

"The vaccine that will kill the plague. It's the only sample in existence. Like the plague, it's generic, protection for AI and man."

"And how do we get it where it's needed?" said John. "We've no ship, no hope of getting off here."

"I can send you to the deck of the AI command ship," said the blonde. "It's standing off K'Ronar with your K'Ronarin friends on board, desperately trying to take it."

"How do you . . ." began K'Raoda.

She held up her hand. "I can send you there now."

"And you?" asked John.

Guan-Sharick shook her head. "It will exhaust all of the special energy that maintains this planet and much of this sector. Some small part of that energy's used to maintain my existence. A price I pay gladly." She touched the case in John's hand. "Use that wisely." The cool green eyes looked into his for the last time. "Good-bye, John."

The three humans vanished from the meadow. An instant later, Guan-Sharick, the meadow, the planet, its sun and six neighboring stars winked out of existence.

The smoke from burning bodies and machines drifted over the charnel house of hangar green alpha one three: dead AIs and K'Ronarins lay sprawled along the deck, their twisted and shattered bodies mute testimony to a battle all but over. The human assault had met the AI counterassault a few hundred paces from
Implacable.
Outnumbered and outgunned, the attack had faltered, swept by blaster beams even as security blades knifed through soft flesh. The survivors now knelt among the burned and decapitated remains of their dead as the blades regrouped for the final assault.

"Here they come," said S'Til, slipping home her last chargepak.

Fresh blades were knifing through the smoke, moving toward the small knot of humans standing amid the blasted remains of their shattered assault.

Of the original attack force, only eleven survived, among them N'Trol, S'Til, D'Trelna and L'Wrona, all of them wounded.

"One last volley, gentlemen," said N'Trol, gamely shifting his Ml 1A to his good hand. "On my command." The others fell in beside him, waiting among their dead as death swept in.

"Aim," said N'Trol, raising his sidearm.

"H'Nar," said D'Trelna, taking careful aim at the lead blade, "finally a cheery word for you."

"What?" said the margrave as the blades closed to fifty meters.

"Volley . . ." cried N'Trol.

"The war's over," said the commodore, squeezing the trigger.

Three figures appeared between the blades and the humans. They looked around, confused for an instant, then one of them held a small white case high above his head.

"Hold!" ordered Sutak, a familiar emblem catching his eye.

The assault halted.

"With me," said the first leader. "All of you."

"They've stopped," said N'Trol disbeliev-ingly. He stood. "Is that . . ."

"It sure is," said D'Trelna. "Let's go."

L'Wrona and S'Til were already advancing, breaking into a run toward John, Zahava and K'Raoda, even as the AI force parted ranks, admitting two human forms and a large blue ball.

The two sides met on either side of the human trio.

"That's a medical kit," said Sutak, ignoring the others, eyes only on the white case in John's hand. "And I recognize the Founders' symbol." He hesitated. "Is it. . ."

"It's the vaccine," said John, looking at both sides.

"Vaccine?" said N'Trol. "What vaccine?"

"The AIs are a plague fleet," said Zahava. "Fleeing from a disease they've brought with them—one to which we're susceptible. It's wiping out all life in their own universe."

"You're running," said N'Trol, staring at Sutak.

"Running from our own destruction," said the first leader. "Never quite fast enough, though." He held out his hand to John. "I'll take that."

"No," said the Terran.

"What's to prevent our taking it?" said Sutak.

"Me," said N'Trol. The Heir's blaster was aimed casually at the medcase, only a meter away. "You're in command?" he asked, eyes meeting Sutak's.

The other nodded. "Sutak. First leader since the plague took out our more senior commanders. And you?"

"N'Trol. My situation's similar to yours."

"N'Trol," said the AI commander, "my blades can kill you before you can pull that trigger."

"And you're willing to risk the survival of your people on that?" said N'Trol. There was an almost perfect silence on the battlefield.

Sutak's gaze shifted to the medkit, then back to the Heir. "No," he said softly. "I did not start this war, N'Trol."

N'Trol shrugged. "But do you have the courage and the vision to end it, first leader?"

"I am willing to talk about ending it," said the AI.

"Truce?" asked N'Trol.

"Truce," said Sutak after an instant's hesitation.

"First leader!" protested several AIs.

Sutak turned on his staff. "Truce, I said, and truce we will have. It should be apparent that we need each other. Security Commander, withdraw your forces. Med units to tend both human and AI casualties." He turned back to N'Trol. "Shall we talk?"

29

"Will they keep
their word, though?" asked John.

D'Trelna stood for a long moment, looking out from the
Implacable's
bridge toward the construction crews, toiling in the first light of day, rebuilding Prime Base.

"What, to stay in Quadrant Blue Nine as our guests and not our foes?" he said, refilling the two Terrans' wine glasses. Except for a few techs performing minor repairs, the trio had the big bridge to themselves. "I think so," said the commodore. "Don't forget, we can make a variant of the plague virus to wipe them out anytime we want."

"But they can do the same to you," said Zahava.

D'Trelna shrugged. "The way of the universe, isn't it? I think we'll each behave. I trust Sutak. Fear Sutak. Trust. Fear. That's what it all comes down to, doesn't it?" They stood watching as K'Ronar's fierce red sun rose above the mountains.

D'Trelna raised his glass toward the star; the wine seemed to catch fire in the sunlight, becoming a bright red jewel held high. "To our dead—may they know peace. To war's end and the transcendent human spirit that endured it. And to the hopeful promise of this new day."