Free Final Assault by Stephen Ames Berry Page B

Combine T'Lan had sent home over the years—sabotage plans, strategy, agents. The real S'Yatan was killed and a combat droid substituted during his plebe year. Gentlemen, our enemies have the portal device."
    The K'Ronarins under R'Gal and D'Trelna had taken Devastator, sensor-scanned for traces of any holdouts in the thousands of miles of corridors honeycombing the battleglobe, then busied themselves with repairs, ignoring the vast reaches of the great ship. Most of Devastator remained unexplored.
    There was one structure that attracted visitors, even though some distance from the operations tower and the hub of activity—the observatory. It was a comparatively small dome of a building, white in contrast to the battleglobe's endless black and gray, set in a slight depression between the operations tower and the yawning chasm of a hangar portal. A score of screens, all larger than Implacable's main screen, lined the concave sweep of white wall, just above the railed walkway circling the room. Instrument consoles filled the center of the observatory floor. Only one of them was on now, presenting sensor data as a familiar, sharply defined picture.
    "So near, yet ..." said Zahava, looking at the screen.
    John stood beside her, also looking at the scan of Earth. Home was a soft swirl of stratocumuli broken by the blue and brown pastels of a surface only an hour away.
    "We'll get back there," he said. "After this is over. Go down to the Cape, open up the beach cottage, drink beer . . .
    "... put our feet up on the rail, watch the sunset over the Sound and belch contentedly," finished Zahava.
    He looked at her and sighed. "Said that a little too much, have I?"
    "No more than twice a watch."
    They were an odd contrast, she a dark-skinned, lissome Sephardic Jew with a faint Israeli accent, he a sandy-haired WASP of medium build and a barely discernible New England accent. Ex-Mossad and ex-CIA, they'd married after the Biofab War, then shipped out aboard Implacable into Quadrant Blue Nine, battling corsairs, mindslavers, AIs, and helping take Devastator from her AI crew. Now they were on board for the final confrontation.
    "You really think we'll get out of this alive?" said Zahava, turning to him.
    "Talk like that you won't," said a new voice, echoing in through the dome. The two
    Terrans turned, hands dropping to their holsters.
    "Bill!" they both said, then hurried to greet Sutherland. The CIA director returned Zahava's kiss, then shook John's hand.
    "■What are you doing aboard this monstrosity?" asked John.
    Sutherland shrugged. "S'Rel wanted me up here to gauge their sincerity, or something. A symbol of goodwill, I suppose. This war is long past any Terran government's influence." He glanced up at the board with its image of the planet. "Mostly, though, I came to say good-bye to two homesick friends and to wish you Godspeed."
    "How's McShane?" asked John.
    "The old codger's well," said Sutherland. "I got a postcard from him last month. Bought a big sailing ketch, hired a crew and took the kids and grandkids off to the South Pacific." Bob McShane, a retired professor, had been with John, Zahava and Sutherland since Implacable first reached Terra, playing a decisive role in both the Biofab War and the battle for Terra Two.
    "So tell me, how did you acquire this homey ship?" asked Sutherland, leaning against one of the consoles.
    "Ask Zahava," said John. "She took it. I just wandered around lost, playing tag with those flying blades the AIs use for security."
    Sutherland looked at Zahava.
    "We stormed it," said the Israeli. "One assault team infiltrated, took out the shield power, my group came in and stormed the Tower, pulling out the AI gun crews, then D'Trelna brought Implacable in and it was all over."
    Sutherland snapped his fingers. "Just like that?" he said with a grin.
    "Not really," said a new voice.
    This time the long-barreled blasters came out of their holsters as Guan-Sharick appeared, standing on the other side of