Part 19 (1/2)

She was rewarded by the sound of the safety snapping off. ”Die,” said the man, pointing the gun at her heart- then dropping the weapon and throwing his hands over his face, staggering back as the carbine's muzzle vanished in a blast of flame.

The blast echoed off the stairs and out over the jungle.

”Can we talk?” said Zahava as the other recovered, rubbing his eyes.

”What about?” said L'Kor. Best chance is to make whoever was in that s.h.i.+p shoot me, he thought desperately, pinpoints of light still dancing in his vision. Anything would be better than that that.

”About the occupation,” she said, wondering if everyone here was this slow. Or had he just been through a lot? ”About the s.h.i.+ps.”

A sudden rush of anger banished L'Kor's suicidal intent. ”Murderer,” he hissed, stepping toward her, fists clenched. ”Butcher.”

Zahava stepped back, shocked by his hate. ”I'm not with them,” she said. ”They're combine s.h.i.+ps, either allied with the AIs or taken over ...” Seeing his sullen incomprehension, she stopped. Someone has to give up something, she thought.

L'Kor didn't flinch as she drew her weapon. I am the wind, he thought, recalling a s.n.a.t.c.h of poetry old when the Empire was young. I am the wind and none . . .

His detachment was broken as Zahava extended her blaster to him, grips first.

Disbelieving, Major L'Kor took the weapon, staring from it to Zahava.

”My name's Tal,” she said. ”Zahava Tal. What's yours?”

”That's not the whole story, Major,” she concluded. ”That would take the rest of the night. But it's most of what applies to D'Lin.”

”I see,” said L'Kor, sipping the t'ata from his field cup. ”And call me S'Ta. But it doesn't explain why these . . . these things, these AIs, have seized this small, backward world. Or what we can do about it.” He bit into a biscuit, savoring it, his first real food in weeks.

”Something the AIs and the S'Cotar found out on my world, S'Ta,” said the Terran. ”We primitives bite hard.”

They sat around a small fire amid the moss-hung ruins of R'Actol's palace, a roof of stars overhead, the shri cacophony of the tropical rain forest all around. As L'Kx wolfed down another biscuit, Zahava sniffed the night ai There was an indefinable essence to it. Fecund, si decided-the smell of jungle and antiquity.

What a monstrosity this place must have been, si: thought. As if the Greeks had built the Parthenon along tr scale of the Temple of Karnak-the center-ringed columi might kindly be called pregnant Doric-and thrown i some Aztec tiling.

Built to daunt, she decided, sipping her t'ata. But tin had done finer work than the builders, sculpting the Imperial edifice into an enchanted ruin, a place whe shadow and starlight evoked the shades of Empire ai Destiny.

Empire and Dust, thought Zahava, looking up at tl alien stars. And will I ever see John again? she wondere She turned at the crackle of brush and flame-L'K was throwing more scrub on the fire. The flames flan high, sending tall shadows dancing across the ruins.

”It's doing it to you, isn't it?” smiled the major, lea ing back, head on his rucksack. He sighed, hands clasp behind his head. ”It's a melancholy place,” he said befo she could answer. ”We used to camp here when I was boy-play marines and R'Actolians after supper, and tin go to bed, dreaming that the stars.h.i.+ps had come back.”

Zahava tossed her t'ata into the brush. ”Well, they' come back, haven't they?” she said.

L'Kor nodded grimly.

”How'd it happen?” she asked.

Based in the harbor town of S'Hlur, the 103rd was paramilitary battalion, charged with police and custoi duties in the northern half of R'Tol. There'd been no n trouble since the last of the pirate villages had been era cated, in L'Kor's grandfather's time. Eleven years out the academy and the major was looking forward to a transfer to P'Rid and the Exarch's Guard-a certain promotion to colonel second.

The silver s.h.i.+ps had ended that, sweeping in from the ocean at dawn, blasting the sleeping town, burying many of the garrison in their burning barracks, making strafing runs along the narrow streets.

L'Kor and G'Sol had been rallying the survivors, readying for a second attack, when it came-machines: small, wedge-shaped machines that flew silently over the makes.h.i.+ft barricades and knifed through the troopers, spewing blaster bolts and tumbling decapitated bodies about the compound.

Standing astride an overturned truck, L'Kor had emptied first his pistol and then an automatic rifle into the machines. The bullets pinged off the dull blue metal, leaving it unblemished. A near miss had exploded into the truck, throwing L'Kor to the ground, stunned. As G'Sol helped him up, old Sergeant N'San, just a week from retirement, had scrambled up the west wall to the battalion's lone antiaircraft gun. Swinging the gun down and around, he'd sent a stream of cannon sh.e.l.ls tearing into the machines as they'd gathered for a final sweep.

L'Kor used the few moments the sergeant bought to get everyone over the demolished south wall and into the jungle. As they'd reached cover, the antiaircraft position and most of the west wall had exploded behind them, adding its acrid smoke to the pall that hung over the slaughter.

”That's not the worst of it,” said the major, staring into the waning fire. ”G'Sol and I, we watched from the bush-they . . . they mutilated our dead.”

”Mutilated?” asked Zahava. ”How?”

”Gla.s.s or plastic domes.” He held his hands apart. ”This round. They came streaming from one of those silver s.h.i.+ps ...”

”A shuttle,” said Zahava.

”From a shuttle,” he nodded. ”Whenever one came to a body, the dome would split. One half would drop over the head. It would flash red, dissolve the cranium-hair, bone, top of the ears. Then ... it would remove the brain.” L'Kor looked ill. ”G'Sol swore she could hear a sucking noise when it happened.” He shook his head, biting his lower lip. ”Imagination. We were too far away.”

”Then the other half of the sphere would close over the brain,” said Zahava, ”and carry it back to the shuttle. Right?”

The major nodded.

What do the AIs want with human brains? wondered the Terran.

”Our exarch, Y'Gar, has sealed the capital,” said L'Kor. ”The radio says there's a plague loose, and the population has been reporting for inoculations for the last week. No mention of this raid.” He spat into the fire. ”We think Y'Gar's sold out to these AIs. We can get into the city. In fact, we were getting ready to pay Y'Gar an unfriendly visit when you arrived.”

”Don't let me stop . . . We?” said Zahava, looking around.

”Why do they mutilate our dead?” said Captain G'Sol, stepping into the small circle of light, carbine pointed at the Terran. Behind her, in the shadows, Zahava saw other figures, the dull glint of steel in their hands.

”She's all right, Captain,” said L'Kor, standing. ”She gave me her weapon, which I returned.”

The carbine lowered. ”Why do they mutilate our dead?” G'Sol repeated in a softer tone.

”I don't know,” said Zahava, also rising. ”They're machines, served by other machines. They've no need to brainstrip the dead, unless . . . No”-she shook her head.

”What?” said captain and major together.

”There's a type of s.h.i.+p that uses human brains-but the only one left is a harmless derelict.”

”Mindslavers,” said G'Sol.

”How did you know?” asked the Terran.

The major grinned humorlessly. ”This is D'Lin, Zahava.

We're standing in the ruins of the quadrant governor's palace. The last governor was S'Helia R'Actol, creator of the R'Actolian biofabs. The R'Actolians created-”

”The first mindslaver,” said Zahava, nodding. ”Of course you'd know. But that still doesn't explain what the AIs need human brains for.''

”AIs?” said G'Sol, looking from Zahava to L'Kor.