The Battle for Terra Two bw-2

by Stephen Ames Berry

  "I believe the mist is clearing, Professor."

  McShane looked up. "You're right. I can see the wall." His eyes widened. "It's shrinking!"

  What had been massive before was minuscule now, no more than a few meters tall and collapsing in on itself with a sigh. As they watched, the wall melted into a flat gray smear.

  Where the jungle had been was now all flat and green-a green rapidly fading to gray as the deck reappeared. There were no more cries, feral or otherwise. The air was cool and smelled faintly metallic. In the distance, they could see their shipcar, just the other side of the armorglass.

  "Tertiary systems are taking Argo down to basic parameters," said D'Trelna. "Machines will soon be harvesting crops here, putting them in storage for no one to eat.

  "Let's check the rest of the area, then go."

  Turning back, they saw the building. White and square, it sat alone on the great empty plain of Agro, its size impossible to gauge without a reference point.

  They reached it after a brisk five-minute walk. It was small, one-level, made of stone-real stone, McShane thought, touching the cool, marblelike surface-with no windows, just a doorway, barred by the shimmering blue of a force field.

  "Could this be Terran?" asked McShane. "It looks almost Roman-perhaps a roadside temple to Diana."

  "Our history, not yours," said D'Trelna. "That hypothetical ship that seeded Terra hadn't been built when structures like this were old. The House of the Dead, said the overmind-a tomb. See the inscription over the door?"

  McShane looked up at the flowing script carved into the stone. "Very graceful-looks like Arabic. What is it?"

  "There's a theory that humanity didn't evolve on K'Ronar," said the commodore. "That K'Ronar was a colony of some great and ancient people and that that script was their language."

  "Can you read it?"

  "No one can read it. Many have spent their lives trying."

  "And the tomb? How old?"

  D'Trelna shrugged. "Prehistory. Guesses start at about two hundred and fifty thousand years-Terran years."

  "Surely the contents can be dated?"

  "Maybe. Except that no one's ever penetrated one of those tombs and survived. Try to force your way in and whatever powers it goes critical-leaves a perfectly symmetrical crater."

  "I don't believe it," said McShane, looking at the commodore. "Compared to you, I know we're technological primitives, squatting in the dust. But not intellectually. And my intellect tells me no power source could survive half a million years."

  "Compared with whomever built those," said D'Trelna, nodding at the tomb, "we're all dust squatters.

  "Structures like that dot hillsides on K'Ronar, S'Htar, U'Tria-all of our planets. All have force fields, none have ever gone dark. They'll tolerate a child's stick or a rock, but bring machinery or energy gear into play"-he threw his hands over his head-"boom!"

  They stood silently for a moment, looking at the tomb. "These tombs and their nature are common knowledge, aren't they, J'Quel?" asked McShane.

  "Since forever, Bob."

  "And none of our people would ever tamper with such a structure, would they?"

  "Never."

  "Do we agree that what we want is probably in there?"

  "We do."

  "I see. Now tell me, if since forever no one has successfully tampered with one of these structures, how did the Imperials get it here? And if there are Imperial artifacts inside, how did they get in there?"

  D'Trelna slapped his leg. "Fake! Of course-it would be perfect security! No one in his right mind would touch one of those tombs. As you've just seen, the sight of one tends to banish logic.

  "Back toImplacable:" he said, turning to McShane, eyes gleaming in triumph. "We'll get a work party and crack that force field."

  McShane held up a hand. "That may not be necessary."

  "Why not?"

  "Can you deactivate a force field with the right verbal authenticator?"

  "Of course."

  "Well, the overmind gave me a password and a countersign."

  "Try it!"

  McShane faced the tomb. "Barren is the house of S'Kal," he called. The force field blinked twice.

  "Some things never change," said the commodore. "You've been challenged. Give the countersign."

  "Empire and Destiny." The force field winked off.

  "Not bad for a dust-squatting primitive, Bob," said D'Trelna.

  The small white room was empty except for a t'raq-wood table and the three boxes on it. The boxes were wrapped in a blue stasis halo-a halo that vanished as D'Trelna reached for the first box. The commodore hesitated, then raised the lid with both hands. A plain silver bracelet lay on black velveteen. Inside the lid was the familiar unical lettering of High K'Ronarin: "Relic of the Nameless Emperor."

  D'Trelna carefully closed the box.

  "Not going to take it out?"

  "No," said the commodore, stepping along the table to the next box. "First of the House of S'Kal, founder of the Empire, he's the Legend-Without-a-Name-perhaps the last of those who built these houses of eternity. That bracelet's undoubtedly a thing of power. I wouldn't touch it if it lay on the deck."

  The second box held a fist-size red jewel, set on a silver chain. As D'Trelna lifted it out, the jewel flared with an unnatural brilliance, all but blinding the two men. D'Trelna dropped the jewel back onto its cushion and slammed the box shut.

  "Did you see an inscription?" asked Bob, rubbing his eyes.

  "Yes." D'Trelna opened his eyes as the red spots faded. "It's the Star of TTlar. Worn by every emperor of the First Dynasty-the House of S'Kal. Supposedly, it'll kill any who wear it who aren't descended from that House."

  "I believe it," said Bob, eyes still watering.

  "One box left, J'Quel," he said, nodding to the last one. "Want me to open it?"

  "My job," he said, opening the box.

  A yellow commwand lay beside a featureless black cube. The inside cover of the box read: Prototype two of two. Alternate Reality Linkage (spaceborne).

  "Congratulations, Commodore," said McShane.

  "Couldn't have done it without you, Bob," said D'Trelna. He tucked the box under his arm.

  "Back toImplacable. Food, sleep. Listen to this commwand, brief Fleet, install the device…"He frowned. "We'll need another ship."

  "Aren't your reinforcements due?" asked Bob as they stepped back onto the Agro deck. Behind them, the tomb's shield snapped back on.

  "You heard the overmind," said D'Trelna. "Don't count your reinforcements before they arrive. The universe is full of nasty surprises."

  17

  K'Raoda turned from the tacscan to Ambassador Z'Sha. "They're here."

  "Can we have visual, Commander?" Wearing the light blue uniform of a senior diplomat, Z'Sha stood beside the command chair, smelling of expensive Terran cologne, three rows of medals on his tunic and a great gold crimson-ribboned one around his neck. His v'arx leather boots would have cost K'Raoda a month's pay.

  "Certainly, sir." He tapped out a command on the complink. At least the man was being polite. There'd been no mention of their previous encounter, at the victory celebration.

  Above and to the front of the bridge, the big screen came alive, dividing in three. Two seemingly identical ships occupied its left and right segments: short, stubby craft, each with five weapons turrets facingImplacable.

  The center image was of a very different sort of warship: long, sleek, about two-thirds the length ofImplacable, with twelve visible weapons turrets.

  All three ships bore Fleet ID markers, with the correct maintenance access indicators visible on closeup. They sat in standard Fleet geosynchronous orbit formation, the smaller ships flanking the larger ship, one above, one below, at precisely the same distance.

  "You are absolutely certain those are corsairs, Commander?" said Z'Sha, turning to K'Raoda.

  "Yes, sir."

  Z'Sha shook his head. "They're good enough to be in a Fleet recruiting vid."


  "Those were Fleet units, Ambassador."

  "What is that data readout under each ship?"

  "Their course, range, shield and our weapons status relative to target."

  "What is their shield status, Commander?"

  "Down."

  "And if we blasted them now?"

  "We're too close for missiles-the blowback would wipe us. They're too many to take out with a single cannon salvo-their shields would snap up at the first beam hit. We'd then be blasting away at each other, well within Terra's gravity. At this range, if one ship went up, we'd all go up. Poisonous debris would rain down on the planet, be absorbed into the food, air and water chains. Millions would die. We might even kill the oceans." He leaned toward the complink. "Indeed, computer projects…"

  "Enough," said Z'Sha, running a hand through his perfectly set white hair. "I'm convinced. Get me commlink to that cruiser. I'll do my part."

  "…promise you a memorable reception, Captain."

  "We're looking forward to it, Ambassador," said K'Tran.

  "You're sure so many personnel won't strainImplacable's facilities?"

  "Her commander assures me they will not, Captain."

  "Is this the same commander who was going to fire on us as we came in?" smiled K'Tran.

  "Forgive him, Captain. He's very young."

  "Fine. Consider us there, Ambassador. And thank you."

  Z'Sha's image vanished from the desk screen. K'Tran turned to his executive officer. "What do you think, Number One?"

  "Could be a trap." A'Tir was younger than he, but just as tough, a thin kid from a grimy industrial planet who'd risen through the ranks of the prewar Fleet, becoming third officer of a light cruiser-and a successful drug runner. When the S'Cotar had annihilated most of the Second Fleet, she and K'Tran had been quick to take advantage of the chaos, going corsair.

  "Could be a trap, but is it?" said K'Tran, looking up from his desk. "Why should they suspect anything? We're what they want-reinforcements."

  "The skipcomm buoy?"

  K'Tran shrugged. "Even the best machines sometimes fail."

  "Still…"

  He waved a hand, the silver Academy ring catching the light. "You worry too much. This is our chance to add a heavy cruiser to our little squadron. We can start raiding closer in-hit primary shipping points. And that world down there-Terra-is open for some leisurely looting."

  "You're so greedy, Y'Dan," she said.

  "Of course I'm greedy," he laughed. "I'm a corsair!"

  "Listen to me," she said intensely. "I say we blastImplacable now, while her shield's down, divide up our money and disperse. With the war over. Fleet's going to hunt us down and kill us."

  "They'll try. We weren't expecting the Valor Medal."

  She stood behind him, long tanned fingers massaging his muscular shoulders. "There's this grade-seven planet, Y'Dan, that's been offchart since the Fall. No people. Iknow a stretch of coast where the mountains tumble into the sea-lush, tropical, fruit growing wild. Warm night breezes under triple moons. We could…"

  He stood, shaking her hand off. "We could what?" he said. "Eat fruit, live naked, love in the sand?"

  A'Tir's face reddened.

  "You sound like a travel broker, Number One.

  "We have two commissions to execute," he continued, voice clipped. "For our primary client, removeImplacable. For our secondary client, fill those forty-one brainpods we're carrying. SeizingImplacable accomplishes both tasks and gives us a L'Aal-class heavy cruiser. And perhaps a side foray to Terra-nothing like a little rape and pillage to perk up the crew.

  "We'll take all but a skeleton crew to the reception. How many shuttle craft is that?"

  "Twelve," she said, emotions tucked back behind her usual diffidence. "Three hundred and twenty-one crew, dressed and armed as Fleet personnel."

  "Eleven boats to land," K'Tran said. "I want you to command number twelve-thirty of your best fighters. Once insideImplacable's shield, have your pilot turn back forNew Hope, reporting engine trouble. Proceed parallel to the top hull…" He touched the complink. An engineering schematic ofImplacable's forward outside hull appeared. "Here." An access pod just behind the bridge began glowing orange. "That's the lift. Free drop as near to it as you can. Reaching it, just push the call tab and take it down to the bridge entrance."

  "Fine," she said, looking at the screen. "We get to the bridge doors. They're armored and locked. A blastpak strong enough to take them out will destroy part of the bridge."

  "Use this." He handed her a small black wedge.

  "What is it?" she asked, turning it over in her hand.

  "Shaped charge-pre-production model from K'Ronar via our primary client. See those rills along the bottom edge? That side is magnetized. Put it on the bridge doors and count to ten. It'll punch through them with no blowback."

  "Cute," she said, carefully pocketing it, the magnetized side toward her body. "What about detection?"

  "You'll be well inside the perimeter scan. Just avoid the hull-sensor clusters. If computer picks up an input anomaly, it's going to alert the bridge. Get to the lift and you're in."

  "It may work," she said grudgingly.

  "Of course it will work. I planned it."

  "So, we take the bridge while you're shooting up the crew. Then what?"

  "Seal compartments-coordinate with me on that. Cut life support to weapons batteries, engineering and armories. I don't want some heroes shooting up our ships, scuttling equipment, booby trapping the corridors. We'll let the survivors surrender, brainstrip the ones we need and space the rest."

  "And what are we going to crew Implacable with?" she asked. "Don't you want to try for converts?"

  "No. I'd rather run her short. That's L'Wrona's ship- D'Trelna's before that. Trying for converts would be a waste of time."

  He looked at the time readout. "Operation launch minus fifty. Brief your assault team, meet me on the hangar deck at minus ten."

  "Very well."

  "Oh, and S'Hlo?"

  "Yes?"

  "When this is over, we're going to need a new base. Plan on a two-man scouting trip to your grade-seven planet. Just you and me. Agreed?"

  "Agreed." She smiled faintly then left the room, mind on the assault.

  "Farewell, my unlovely," said McShane, watching the dreadnought and its valley shrink in the rear screen.

  "Home in time for lunch," said D'Trelna happily, switching the view scan forward. Earth filled the screen's center, growing larger as the shuttle raced away from the Moon.

  The commodore keyed into the commnet. "Shuttle one-nine-seven toImplacable."

  "Implacableflight control," said a hurried voice. "One-nine-seven, go ahead."

  "Permission to land."

  "One-nine-seven, hold."

  D'Trelna frowned. "Odd."

  "What?" asked McShane.

  "Odd that I'm holding. Odd that flight control sounds harried-it shouldn't. We carry a lot of shuttles, but only three are scheduled out now-this and the daily Terran runs."

  "One-nine-seven. Other traffic is ahead of you. Enter shield at point three-five and assume station forward."

  "One-nine-seven confirming. Enter point three-five, assume station forward. Out.

  "We're to stand by off the forward part of the ship," said D'Trelna, anticipating Bob's question. He pointed to a telltale. "Tactical summary. We've gained a light cruiser and two frigates." ' 'Reinforcements?''

  "Finally. They must be shuttling their complements over toImplacable for a reception. No doubt Z'Sha will be there."

  Five minutes brought them within sight of the four warships. A long line of shuttlecraft were leaving the light cruiser, making forImplacable.

  "Oh, no," said D'Trelna as they closed on the flotilla.

  "Problem?" asked McShane.

  D'Trelna nodded, dropping their speed. "Big problem. Those shuttles are going to a formal reception-it's customary. There's only one place onImplacable that'll hold that many-hangar deck. Hangar deck
is now teaming with officers and crew, among whom is Ambassador Z'Sha. After the ceremony, Z'Sha, my officers and the new officers are all going to troop down to Sick Bay to look in on the ailing commodore."

  "I forgot about that," said Bob. "Can't you land and sneak in? Hangar deck's huge."

  "Yes, but all the lifts are at the back. Z'Sha will be between me and the lifts. I am not a small man."

  They were gliding past the light cruiser, close beneath her engines. The shuttle would have been lost in any of those three great tubes.

  "I suppose I could steal in through the lift-access pod, hullside aft of the bridge," continued the commodore, "and send you and the shuttle in on auto… No." He shook his head. "It would look like you were piloting a shuttle. They'd really go crazy then. We'll just have to land and brazen through it-somehow."

  "What about…"

  D'Trelna stopped him with an upraised finger, staring atNew Hope's engines, sliding out of forward scan range.

  He split the screen, putting the rear scan of the engines on the left half, shrinking the forward scan ofImplacable and the other shuttles to the right half. Their shuttle was now in line behind the rest.

  "Quick lesson in starship architecture, Bob," said D'Trelna, suddenly tense. "Those oval engine tubes are unique-the only set ever made for a line vessel. They didn't perform up to the expectation, so only the test ship, a light cruiser, ever had them. That cruiser was assigned to the Second Fleet. The Second Fleet was destroyed at the start of the war-all but that one cruiser. For years. Intelligence listed it as missing, possible corsair. With war's end, they downgraded it to missing, presumed destroyed. Prematurely, it seems."

  "Those are pirates?" McShane stared at the shuttles.

  "More than even money says so. And about to take overImplacable."

  "Don't just sit there, D'Trelna! Sound the alarm, alert the bridge!"

  "No."

  Their speed dropped further as they passed through the opening in the shield, just behind the twelfth shuttle craft. The shield reformed behind them, a faint shimmer in their rear scan.

  "A shootout this close to Terra could wipe your planet, Bob. These ships brim with poison-drive components, sublight engines, n-gravs, fusion cannon. Those particles get into your environment and you'll have a corpse-heaped world."