Read Online The AI War by Stephen Ames Berry - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Stephen Ames Berry
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the third vessel, Victory Day?"
The golden spheroid drifted to D'Trelna's side, coming within pickup range of the transmission. "Increase by a factor of three," it said.
D'Trelna turned to the comm officer. "K'Lana, I seem to be having a problem. Increase signal strength by a factor of three, please."
"Wait!" K'Tran's smile was gone. "What do you want?"
"Hold, K'Lana," said D'Trelna. He turned back to K'Tran. "Can't you guess, K'Tran?"
A'Tir had pulled an ID from Victory Day's archives. She sent it over to K'Tran's station. He stared at the data for a surprised instant, then looked up. "Where'd you get a slaver computer, D'Trelna? TNil's Revenge!"
"Where I got it isn't important," said the commodore. "What we'll be using it for is."
"We'll?"
"Yes," said D'Trelna. "It'll be conning our combined battleops. We're going to penetrate that mindslaver's defenses and storm her bridge, K'Tran. You and me, yours and mine, side by side. Victory or death."
There was a long silence on both bridges. "You're mad, D'Trelna," said the corsair.
"Am I?" said D'Trelna. "You're a superb tactician. Consider the situation tactically, K'Tran."
He did, fingers softly drumming the chairarm, eyes distant. When he looked back at the pickup, both his and D'Trelna's crew were watching. "Victory or death, Commodore," he said. "There's no other way. What are your orders?"
"Maintain position, be prepared to link battleops on my command," said D'Trelna.
"As the commodore orders," said the corsair, switching off.
"You're serious?" said A'Tir as D'Trelna's face vanished. "We're taking orders from Fats?"
K'Tran nodded slowly. "We're too close to run, but near enough to attack. Only a coordinated assault has even a remote chance of success. That slaver computer may give us an edge."
"Or betray us utterly," said A'Tir.
"It's a fluid situation," said K'Tran slowly. "And it may yet favor us." His old self-assurance, blunted for a moment, was returning. "We're not burdened by duty, ethics or conscience." He nodded toward the screen. "They are. . . . Stand by to link battleops. And give me shipwide so everyone can share in the good news."
6
The slaver's bridge was big, cold and empty, a soft-lit, multitiered cavern beneath a transparent dome.
Perfect temperature for preserving meat, thought John. Shivering, he rubbed his hands together, then thrust them back into his pockets.
Hundreds of consoles lined the tiers, lights twinkling, alarms chirping. Nowhere was there a chair, nowhere a sign that any living being had ever ere wed Alpha Prime. The Terran stared up at T'Lan, one tier above him. One thing's for sure, he thought—I'm the only human on this bridge.
Floating along at eye level, the translucent blue globe had led them from the shuttle out across the dark hangar deck. It had been a long, cold walk, their footfalls echoing distantly, John keenly aware of T'Lan striding beside him, a precise, unfaltering tap-tap-tap. T'Lan would sometimes look right or left, eyes seeming to focus ... on what? John wondered. No matter. T'Lan can see in the dark. He filed it away, another bit of data.
Going up a ramp, they'd gone down a short passageway, through a door that moved noiselessly aside, and into a brightly lit anteroom. John stood blinking, squinting in the sudden glare as T'Lan followed the globe to one of a score of open-topped, two-seat cars that rested in power niches along the room's circumference.
Turning to John, T'Lan had pointed toward the first car, the one over which the blue globe hovered. He'd stood there, waiting until the Terran had slid over the siderail into the seat.
Once T'Lan was in, the globe vanished. Without a sound, the car turned, rose and streaked from the room, moving at high speed down endless gray corridors.
Doorways, intersections and the occasional instrument panel had flashed by; then they'd shot up a long, spiraling ramp to the bridge. Slowing, stopping, the car had settled before the faint glow of a forcefield.
The golden spheroid drifted to D'Trelna's side, coming within pickup range of the transmission. "Increase by a factor of three," it said.
D'Trelna turned to the comm officer. "K'Lana, I seem to be having a problem. Increase signal strength by a factor of three, please."
"Wait!" K'Tran's smile was gone. "What do you want?"
"Hold, K'Lana," said D'Trelna. He turned back to K'Tran. "Can't you guess, K'Tran?"
A'Tir had pulled an ID from Victory Day's archives. She sent it over to K'Tran's station. He stared at the data for a surprised instant, then looked up. "Where'd you get a slaver computer, D'Trelna? TNil's Revenge!"
"Where I got it isn't important," said the commodore. "What we'll be using it for is."
"We'll?"
"Yes," said D'Trelna. "It'll be conning our combined battleops. We're going to penetrate that mindslaver's defenses and storm her bridge, K'Tran. You and me, yours and mine, side by side. Victory or death."
There was a long silence on both bridges. "You're mad, D'Trelna," said the corsair.
"Am I?" said D'Trelna. "You're a superb tactician. Consider the situation tactically, K'Tran."
He did, fingers softly drumming the chairarm, eyes distant. When he looked back at the pickup, both his and D'Trelna's crew were watching. "Victory or death, Commodore," he said. "There's no other way. What are your orders?"
"Maintain position, be prepared to link battleops on my command," said D'Trelna.
"As the commodore orders," said the corsair, switching off.
"You're serious?" said A'Tir as D'Trelna's face vanished. "We're taking orders from Fats?"
K'Tran nodded slowly. "We're too close to run, but near enough to attack. Only a coordinated assault has even a remote chance of success. That slaver computer may give us an edge."
"Or betray us utterly," said A'Tir.
"It's a fluid situation," said K'Tran slowly. "And it may yet favor us." His old self-assurance, blunted for a moment, was returning. "We're not burdened by duty, ethics or conscience." He nodded toward the screen. "They are. . . . Stand by to link battleops. And give me shipwide so everyone can share in the good news."
6
The slaver's bridge was big, cold and empty, a soft-lit, multitiered cavern beneath a transparent dome.
Perfect temperature for preserving meat, thought John. Shivering, he rubbed his hands together, then thrust them back into his pockets.
Hundreds of consoles lined the tiers, lights twinkling, alarms chirping. Nowhere was there a chair, nowhere a sign that any living being had ever ere wed Alpha Prime. The Terran stared up at T'Lan, one tier above him. One thing's for sure, he thought—I'm the only human on this bridge.
Floating along at eye level, the translucent blue globe had led them from the shuttle out across the dark hangar deck. It had been a long, cold walk, their footfalls echoing distantly, John keenly aware of T'Lan striding beside him, a precise, unfaltering tap-tap-tap. T'Lan would sometimes look right or left, eyes seeming to focus ... on what? John wondered. No matter. T'Lan can see in the dark. He filed it away, another bit of data.
Going up a ramp, they'd gone down a short passageway, through a door that moved noiselessly aside, and into a brightly lit anteroom. John stood blinking, squinting in the sudden glare as T'Lan followed the globe to one of a score of open-topped, two-seat cars that rested in power niches along the room's circumference.
Turning to John, T'Lan had pointed toward the first car, the one over which the blue globe hovered. He'd stood there, waiting until the Terran had slid over the siderail into the seat.
Once T'Lan was in, the globe vanished. Without a sound, the car turned, rose and streaked from the room, moving at high speed down endless gray corridors.
Doorways, intersections and the occasional instrument panel had flashed by; then they'd shot up a long, spiraling ramp to the bridge. Slowing, stopping, the car had settled before the faint glow of a forcefield.
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