Part 8 (1/2)

6.

The slaver's bridge was big, cold and empty, a soft-lit, mult.i.tiered cavern beneath a transparent dome.

Perfect temperature for preserving meat, thought John. s.h.i.+vering, 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. 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. 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 pa.s.sageway, 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 circ.u.mference.

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. Stepping from the vehicle, the two had followed another blue globe through a sudden opening in the field, across the broad sweep of the bridge's deck and up a series of ramps, halting at last before the single black console that occupied the highest tier. As T'Lan spoke, the blue globe vanished. ”Commander T'Lan and John Harrison, from Implacable.” Implacable.”

”We have a commwand for you, from Pocsym Six.” Velvet soft and as cold as this s.h.i.+p, thought John of the voice. It spoke contemporary K'Ronarin and seemed to come from between him and T'Lan, rather than from the console.

”A message from the dead,” said T'Lan. ”Who are you?”

”We have no names, Commander,” said the voice. ”The centuries burned them away. We have only purpose.”

”Do you know what's on the commwand?” asked T'Lan.

”Data relating to the Trel Cache,” said the R'Actolian.

T'Lan held out his hand. ”You may give it to me.”

John glanced over the slender railing, gauging the distance to the deck: about two hundred feet. I'm going to save us some travel time back to the deck, thing, he thought, s.h.i.+fting his weight. The instant you get that commwand, over we go.

”Don't do anything quixotic, Harrison,” said T'Lan in perfect English, his eyes still on the console, hand extended. ”The commwand,” he said in K'Ronarin.

”Pocsym,” said the R'Actolian, ignoring the demand, ”kept us supplied over the centuries. There were items we needed that we couldn't manufacture, but that Pocsym could. In return for these things, we pledged to remain in this quadrant, Blue Nine. Very recently, as we judge time, Pocsym entrusted us with the commwand, asking that we give it to the first K'Ronarin Fleet s.h.i.+p to reach these precise coordinates.”

”We are here,” said T'Lan.

John tensed himself, ready to jump.

”We're not giving you the commwand,” said the R'Actolian.

”Why not?” said T'Lan, dropping his hand.

John laughed-a short nervous laugh. ”They've tumbled to you, T'Lan.”

T'Lan half turned toward the Terran. ”Harrison . . .” he hissed.

”You're not a true emissary of K'Ronar, Commander T'Lan,” continued the R'Actolian. ”You're something out of Imperial prehistory, an AI combat droid-a survivor of that almost mythic war between man and machine.”

”It's no myth,” said T'Lan. ”I was there.”

”You are here to intercept the commwand,” said the R'Actolian. ”Why?”

”The Trel defeated us once. Legend says they left a weapon to be used against us.”

”You wish to destroy the commwand.”

T'Lan nodded. ”Logically, it must hold the location of the Cache. No location, no weapon. The Fleet of the One triumphs.”

The voice sighed, a legacy of lungs and bodies long cast off. ”We are both man and machine, T'Lan, and love neither. It isn't out of malice that we deny you what you want, but because we've given our pledge.”

”You cannot deny me,” said the AI, walking around the console. ”The cybernetics of this vessel were taken from Quadrant Fleet inventory on D'Lin, after you wiped Governor R'Actol.” He looked down at the instruments.

”How did you know that?”

”Your first- and second-level computers,” said the AI, ignoring the question, ”the golden egg and its retinue of secondaries, were machines originally entrusted to the Governor of Blue Nine for safekeeping-machines salvaged from our defeated s.h.i.+ps, centuries before. The designs were copied first, of course, and sent to K'Ronar. When reproduced later, in Fleet's own mindslavers, there was no trace of us in them. But here-” He reached out a finger, ”Here is different.”

”Touch the command console,” said the soft voice, ”and you die.”

John watched with a sense of unreality as T'Lan began entering a command, fingers flying over the keyboard.

From high above, blasters shrilled, fierce red bolts tearing at the droid. John threw an arm across his eyes as T'Lan staggered away from the console, his body a blinding pillar of raw red-blue energies-energies that rippled over the AI, leaving him unharmed.

The blasters snapped off. John lowered his arm.

”You have a subcutaneous personal s.h.i.+eld,” said the R'Actolian as T'Lan, unfazed, returned to the keyboard.

”I'm a Cla.s.s One Beta Infiltration-Combat unit,” said the AI, typing. ”My series is impervious to blaster and projectile fire. We can only be destroyed by large-load atomics.”

Straightening, T'Lan reached up and removed his left ear. Peeling it open, he discarded the husks and inserted the silver wafer they'd guarded into a small slot in the console. ”This s.h.i.+p is now a forward unit of the Fleet of the One,” he said, pressing a final switch.

Alpha Prime said nothing. said nothing.

”What've you done?” asked John, hearing his voice tremble.

T'Lan turned to him, smiling, a dark hole where his ear had been. ”I've taken the R'Actolians off-line, Harrison. Their lesser functions are now run by s.h.i.+p's computer, which obeys the commander.” He bowed. ”Me.”

”You're one of those ghastly robots we stopped on Terra Two,” said John.

T'Lan shook his head. ”Comparing me to a robot is like comparing yourself to an amoeba, Harrison. As for Terra Two, our force there was small, cut off from its own dimension, and led by an inexperienced commander.”

”And now?” said John.

”Now I destroy Implacable Implacable and keep this quadrant free of other s.h.i.+ps until our forces come through the breach. Then into K'Ronarin s.p.a.ce, repaying old debts by wiping your treacherous, parasitic species from the galaxy.” and keep this quadrant free of other s.h.i.+ps until our forces come through the breach. Then into K'Ronarin s.p.a.ce, repaying old debts by wiping your treacherous, parasitic species from the galaxy.”

”Why this insane hatred?” said John, spreading his hands. ”What did we-what did the K'Ronarins-ever do to engender such ...”

”I have work to do, Harrison,” said T'Lan. ”You're a primitive from a backward world that got in the way. And I don't need you anymore.” Seizing John by the tunic, he tossed him screaming over the railing, and turned for the commander's console. As he reached it, the high-pitched scream ended abruptly.