Part 14 (1/2)
”That thing attacked our Fleet, Harrison,” said T'Lan. ”It wreaked havoc before it was driven off. The radiation it emitted is slowly destroying vital parts of our s.h.i.+ps' drives. Those drives will be operable just long enough for most of the Fleet to traverse the Rift-the portal now opening into this universe.”
”This is the official portal?” asked John. ”The one closed by the Trel and warned of by Pocsym?”
”Yes.”
”What good is a crippled fleet?” asked John.
The AI shook his head. ”By the time it leaves rendezvous point, it won't be crippled anymore, Harrison. With the knowledge and equipment gained here, and the ongoing work at a certain planet, our faulty cybernetics will have organic replacements-human brains.”
”You're converting your s.h.i.+ps to mindslavers?” said the Terran, appalled.
”Only partially, and only until we have time to make further repairs,” said T'Lan. ”Which we will after we wipe your pathetic forces.”
”Why this eternal antipathy,” said the Terran, ”this psychotic hatred of mankind?”
”My turn,” said T'Lan. ”There should be a number on the grip of that weapon. What is it?”
As John looked down, T'Lan's blue eyes flashed red, rapier thin beams thrusting for John's heart, only to vanish halfway there, intercepted by the weapon.
John pulled the trigger.
T'Lan froze, half turned toward the rail and a desperate jump for freedom. Guan-Sharick's side arm hadn't made a sound.
John stared at T'Lan, then looked carefully around, lowering the weapon. Equipment tiers chirped and blinked, continuing their unending esoteric tasks.
”Do you wish to take command?” whispered a voice. Dead leaves stirring in an autumn twilight, thought John.
”You must be the Seven,” said the Terran.
”We are the Seven,” replied the whisper. ”The AI has placed us on standby. You may a.s.sume command of this vessel by pressing the gray Action key on the command board.”
”What happened to the AI?” asked John.
”Your weapon emits a possibly irreversible stasis field- the AI is trapped within himself until the universe dies.”
”Couldn't happen to a nicer machine,” said John.
He went to the command console. The Action key was set to the top right of the tri-level keyboard. ”This it?” he said, pointing.
”Press it and the s.h.i.+p is yours,” said the whisper.
”What's on this commwand?” asked John, touching the end of a small white cylinder protruding from a port on the other side of the keyboard.
”The message of Poesym-Six,” said the Seven. ”Play it if you wish.”
”How do I eject it?”
”Just pull it.”
It came out easily. Slipping it into his pocket, John left the tier, beginning the long walk to the deck. Behind him there was a sigh.
L'Wrona squatted beside the corsair shuttle, touching an n-grav nodule. ”Still warm,” he said, rising.
”K'Tran's ahead of us then,” said D'Trelna. ”And with his original force intact.” He drew his side arm. ”Let's go get him.”
”I will remain with this craft,” said Egg, hovering near the airlock.
D'Trelna shook his head. ”You will stay with us. In fact, you'll take point.”
”But, Commodore, I have no combat skills.”
”And I have no weight problem!” He jerked a thumb toward where the corridor made a sharp turn toward the bridge. ”Take point.”
They moved quickly up the corridor, D'Trelna behind the computer, L'Wrona and S'Til off to either side. Unlike most they'd pa.s.sed, this pa.s.sageway was lined with doorways-featureless slabs of gray, set deep into the bulkheads. L'Wrona briefly tried one of the doors, pressing in all the usual places. It remained shut.
A moment later, as the three humans and the slaver machine reached the turn, K'Tran and his corsairs appeared, stretched out in a long skirmish line. D'Trelna hooked his thumbs into his gunbelt as both parties halted, twenty meters apart.
”You get lost, K'Tran?” he asked.
”A problem with the navigation interlink,” replied the corsair, walking slowly to his right, eyes on D'Trelna. ”Where's the rest of your force?”
”Right behind us and coming at the double,” said D'Trelna, aware of L'Wrona and S'Til edging toward opposite doorways. Hopelessly far from cover, the commodore tried to buy them some time. He had a fleeting vision of his gut-shot body stretched out on the deck.
”You're under arrest, K'Tran,” he said as L'Wrona and S'Til reached the doorways. ”Have your thugs lay down their arms.” He jerked a thumb over his shoulder. ”I have a trooper in your shuttle, manning the fusion turret. One of you so much as blinks and he'll-”
”Fats is whistling through his a.s.shole,” said A'Tir. ”The airlock's code-set.”
K'Tran leaned against a doorway, smiling. ”Do you remember, D'Trelna, when you were going to execute me, and offered me death preferences?”
D'Trelna nodded. ”Off Terra Two. Regrettably, events interceded and you butchered your way free.''
”I'm reciprocating now,” continued the corsair. ”Blaster, blade or garrote-your choice.”
”Lay down your arms,” repeated the commodore.
”It would be best if you did as the commodore suggests, Captain K'Tran,” said Egg. It had been drifting slowly back and now hovered to D'Trelna's right.
K'Tran moved, drew and fired. As with all good art, it appeared effortless, the blaster blurring into his hand, the deadly red bolts spitting straight at D'Trelna's heart.
No gunman, D'Trelna had his side arm only half out of its holster when K'Tran fired. Golden light filled his eyes. Dead? he wondered for an instant, then understood and ran.
Noting the minuscule movements of eye and muscle that signaled attack, Egg had moved into K'Tran's line of fire. The bolts intended for the commodore struck it, exploding in a shower of red and gold sparks. Moving erratically, the machine veered away, distracting the corsair fire long enough for D'Trelna to reach L'Wrona.
”That v'org slime's a good shot,” said D'Trelna, dropping a corsair with two quick bolts, then ducking the return fire that bracketed the doorway. ”Blessings on Egg,” he added.
The slaver computer had stopped moving. It hovered against a bulkhead, tilted at an odd angle, apparently dead. Way across the corridor, a blaster in each hand, S'Til was engaging A'Tir and three others as they bobbed in and out of doorways and instrument alcoves, advancing steadily.