Free The AI War by Stephen Ames Berry Page A

arm.
    "You have a subcutaneous personal shield," said the R'Actolian as T'Lan, unfazed, returned to the keyboard.
    "I'm a Class 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 ship is now a forward unit of the Fleet of the One," he said, pressing a final switch.
    Alpha Prime 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 ship'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 and keep this quadrant free of other ships until our forces come through the breach. Then into K'Ronarin space, 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.
    Leaving Pod 36, Zahava looked up and down the corridor; there was no sign of Colonel R'Gal. She hadn't seen the K'Ronarin since he'd entered 31, ten minutes before.
    She walked back to 31 and stopped in front of it, frowning at the red downtime marker glowing over the airlock, indicating a maintenance problem. It hadn't been there when R'Gal went in.
    Drawing her blaster, she opened the first door, stepped in, and waited an eternity as it closed behind her and the inner door slid open. There were no lights on in the pod. Being Zahava, she entered anyway. The door closed behind her, taking with it the light from the airlock.
    Zahava moved to the right, back to the wall, feeling for the battletorch on her belt.
    Something whipped by her face, sending her blaster clattering off into the dark. Before she could move, a searing pain pierced her head. Writhing, she tried to pry free of the cold pincers boring into her temples. It was futile. Waves of pain assailing her, Zahava slumped to the floor unconscious.
    Hunched over her in the dark, the S'Cotar continued its work, unconcerned by her shallow breathing and weakening pulse.
    "No!" snapped KTran. "No expeditions into that dark beast, D'Trelna! We penetrate the shield, plant a charge, and leave."
    "We need that commwand, K'Tran," said D'Trelna. "We're going for the bridge."
    "Enemy disposition, strength and intent?" said the corsair scornfully. "Where is the bridge? How do we get there? What's to stop us? Unless you have a plan, D'Trelna, we'd better jump for it—now."
    "No one's jumping anywhere," said D'Trelna. "And there is a plan." He turned to the slaver computer. "Egg."
    "Thank you, Commodore," said the machine. A multicolored hologram of Alpha Prime appeared between Egg and D'Trelna's station, well within range of the comm pickup. "This is from the Imperial Archives, R'Actolian War section. Unless the R'Actolians have radically altered the design of Alpha Prime, there will be a concealed sally port here." A short, red shaft appeared and penetrated the hull, halfway down the ship's port side.
    "Define 'sally port,' " said K'Tran. He sat slouched in his chair, fingers