The Armageddon Inheritance

by David Weber

  He nudged his cutter to a stop. A green and yellow beacon marked a small hatch, but though his head ached from concentrating on his implants, he felt no response. He timed the beacon's sequence carefully.

  "Dahak, I have a point-seven-five-second visual flash, green-amber-amber-green-amber, on a Class Seven hatch."

  "Assuming Fleet conventions have not changed, Captain, that should indicate an active access point for small craft."

  "I know." Colin swallowed, wishing his mouth weren't quite so dry. "Unfortunately, my implants can't pick up a thing."

  Colin felt a sudden, almost audible click deep in his skull and blinked at a brief surge of vertigo as a not quite familiar tingle pulsed in his feed.

  "I've got something. Still not clear, but-" The tingle suddenly turned sharp and familiar. "That's it!"

  "Acknowledged, Captain," Dahak said. "The translation programs devised for Omega Three did not perfectly meet our requirements, but I believe my new modifications to your implant software should suffice. I caution you again, however, that additional, inherently unforeseeable difficulties may await."

  "Understood." Colin edged closer, insinuating his thoughts cautiously into the hatch computers, and something answered. It was an ID challenge, but it tasted... odd.

  He keyed his personal implant code with exquisite care, and for an instant just long enough to feel relieved disappointment, nothing happened. Then the hatch slid open, and he dried his palms on his uniform trousers.

  "Well, people," he murmured, "door's open. Wish me luck."

  "So do we all," Jiltanith told him softly. "Take care, my love."

  The next half-hour was among the most nerve-wracking in Colin's life. His basic implant codes had sufficed to open the hatch, but that only roused the internal security systems.

  There was a strangeness to their challenges, a dogged, mechanical persistence he'd never encountered from Dahak, but they were thorough. At every turn, it seemed, there were demands for identification on ever deeper security levels. He found himself responding with bridge officer codes he hadn't known he knew and realized that the computers were digging deep into his challenge-response conditioning. No wonder Druaga had felt confident Anu could never override his own final orders to Dahak! Colin had never guessed just how many security codes Dahak had buried in his own implants and subconscious.

  But he reached the central transit shaft at last, and felt both relief and a different tension as he plugged into the traffic sub-net and requested transport to Fleet Central's Command Alpha. He half-expected yet another challenge, but the routing computers sent back a ready signal, and he stepped out into the shaft.

  One thing about the terror of the unknown, he thought wryly as the shaft took him and hurled him inward: it neatly displaced such mundane fears as being mashed to paste by the transit shaft's gravitonics!

  The shaft deposited him outside Command Alpha in a brightly-lit chamber big enough for an assault shuttle. The command deck hatch bore no unit ensign, as if Fleet Central was above such things. There was only the emblem of the Fourth Empire: the Imperium's starburst surmounted by an intricate diadem.

  Colin looked about, natural senses and implants busy, and paled as he detected the security systems guarding this gleaming portal. Heavy grav guns in artfully hidden housings were backed up by the weapons Vlad had dubbed warp guns, and their targeting systems were centered on him. He tried to straighten his hunched shoulders and approached the huge hatch with a steady tread.

  Almost to his surprise, it licked aside, and more silent hatches-twice as many as guarded Dahak's Command One-opened as he walked down the brightly lit tunnel, fighting a sense of entrapment. And then, at last, he stepped out into the very heart and brain of Battle Fleet, and the last hatch closed behind him.

  It wasn't as impressive as Command One, was his first thought-but only his first. It lacked the gorgeous, perfect holo projections of Dahak's bridge, but the softly bright chamber was far, far larger. Dedicated hypercom consoles circled its walls, labeled with names he knew in flowing Imperial script, names which had been only half-believed-in legends in his implant education from Dahak. Systems and sectors, famous Fleet bases and proud formations-the names vanished into unreadable distance, and Quadrant Command nets extended out across the floor, the ranked couches and consoles too numerous to count, driving home the inconceivable vastness of the Empire.

  It made him feel very, very insignificant.

  Yet he was here... and those couches were empty. He had come eight hundred light-years to reach this enormous room, come from a planet teeming with humanity to this silence no voice had broken in forty-five millennia, and all this might and power of empire were but the work of Man.

  He crossed the shining deck, bootheels ringing on jeweled mosaics, and ghosts hovered in the corners, watchful and measuring. He wondered what they made of him.

  It took ten minutes to reach the raised dais at the center of the command deck, and he climbed its broad steps steadily, the weight of some foreordained fate seeming to press upon his shoulders, until he reached the top at last.

  He lowered himself into the throne-like couch before the single console. It conformed smoothly to his body, and he forced himself to relax and draw a deep, slow breath before he reached out through his feed.

  There was a quick flicker of response, and he felt a surge of hope-then grunted and flinched as he was hurled violently out of the net.

  "Implant interface access denied," a voice said. It was a soft, musical contralto... utterly devoid of life or emotion.

  Colin rubbed his forehead, trying to soothe the sudden ache deep inside his brain, and looked around the silent command deck for inspiration. He found none, and reached out again, more carefully.

  "Implant interface access denied." The voice threw him out of the net even more violently. "Warning. Unauthorized access to this installation is punishable by imprisonment for not less than ninety-five standard years."

  "Damn," Colin muttered. He was more than half-afraid of how Fleet Central might react to activating his fold-space com but saw no option. "Dahak?"

  "Yes, Captain?"

  "I'm getting an implant access denial warning."

  "Voice or neural feed?"

  "Voice. The damned thing won't even talk to my implants."

  "Interesting," Dahak mused, "and illogical. You have been admitted to Command Alpha; logically, therefore, Fleet Central recognizes you as an officer of Battle Fleet. Assuming that to be true, access should not be denied."

  "The same thought had occurred to me," Colin said a bit sarcastically.

  "Have you attempted verbal communication, sir?"

  "No."

  "I would recommend that as the next logical step.".

  "Thanks a lot," Colin muttered, then cleared his throat.

  "Computer," he said, feeling just a bit foolish addressing the emptiness.

  "Acknowledged," the emotionless voice said, and his heart leapt. By damn, maybe there was a way in yet!

  "Why have I been denied implant access?"

  "Improper implant identification," the voice replied.

  "Improper in what way?"

  "Data anomaly detected. Implant interface access denied."

  "What anomaly?" he asked, far more patiently than he felt.

  "Implant identification not in Fleet Central data base. Individual not recognized by core access programs. Implant interface access denied."

  "Then why have you accepted voice communication?"

  "Emergency subroutines have been activated for duration of the present crisis," the voice replied, and Colin paused, wondering what "emergency subroutines" were and why they allowed verbal access. Not that he meant to ask. The last thing he needed was to change this thing's mind!

  "Computer," he said finally, "why was I admitted to Command Alpha?"

  "Unknown. Security is not a function of Computer Central."

  "I see." Colin thought more furiously than ever, then nodded to himself. "Compu
ter, would Fleet Central Security admit an individual with invalid implant identification codes to Command Alpha?"

  "Negative."

  "Then if Security admitted me, the security data base must recognize my implants."

  Silence answered his observation.

  "Hm, not very talkative, are you?" Colin mused.

  "Query not understood," the voice said.

  "Never mind." He drew a deep breath. "I submit that a search might locate my implant codes in Fleet Central Security's data base. Would you concur?"

  "The possibility exists."

  "Then I instruct you," Colin said very carefully, "to search the security data base and validate my implant codes."

  There was a brief pause, and he bit his lip.

  "Verbal instructions require authorization overrides," the voice said finally. "Identify source of authority."

  "My own, as Senior Fleet Captain Colin MacIntyre, commanding officer, ship-of-the-line Dahak, Hull Number One-Seven-Two-Two-Niner-One." Colin was amazed by how level his own voice sounded.

  "Authorization provisionally accepted," the voice said. "Searching security data base."

  There was another moment of silence, then the voice spoke again.

  "Search completed. Implant identification codes located. Anomalies."

  "Specify anomalies."

  "Specification one: identification codes not current. Specification two: no Senior Fleet Captain Colinmacintyre listed in Fleet Central's data base. Specification Three: Dahak, Hull Number One-Seven-Two-Two-Niner-One, lost fifty one thousand six hundred nine point-eight-four-six standard years ago."

  "My codes were current as of Dahak's departure for the Noarl System on picket duty. I should be added to your data base as a descendant of Dahak's core crew, promoted to fill a vacancy left by combat losses."

  "That is not possible. Dahak, Hull Number One-Seven-Two-Two-Niner-One, no longer exists."

  "Then what's my non-existent command doing here?" Colin demanded.

  "Null-value query."

  "Null-value?! Dahak's in orbit with Fleet Central right now!"

  "Datum invalid," Fleet Central observed. "No such unit is present."

  Colin resisted an urge to smash a bioenhanced fist through the console.

  "Then what is the object accompanying Fleet Central in orbit?" he snarled.

  "Data anomaly," Fleet Central said emotionlessly.

  "What data anomaly, damn it?!"

  "Perimeter Security defensive programming prohibits approach within eight light-hours of Planet Birhat without valid identification codes. Dahak, Hull Number One-Seven-Two-Two-Niner-One, no longer exists. Therefore, no such unit can be present. Therefore, scanner reports represent data anomaly."

  Colin punched a couch arm in sudden understanding. For some reason, this dummy-or its outer surveillance systems, anyway-had accepted Dahak's ID and let him in. For some other reason, the central computers had not accepted that ID. Faced with the fact that no improperly identified unit could be here, this moron had labeled Dahak a "data anomaly" and decided to ignore him!

  "Computer," he said finally, "assume-hypothetically-that a unit identified as Dahak was admitted to the Bia System by Perimeter Security. How might that situation arise?"

  "Programming error," Fleet Central said calmly.

  "Explain."

  "No Confirmation of Loss report on Dahak, Hull Number One-Seven-Two-Two-Niner-One, was filed with Fleet Central. Loss of vessel is noted in Log Reference Rho-Upsilon-Beta-Seven-Six-One-Niner-Four, but failure to confirm loss report resulted in improper data storage." Fleet Central fell silent, satisfied with its own pronouncement, and Colin managed not to swear.

  "Which means?"

  "ID codes for Dahak, Hull Number One-Seven-Two-Two-Niner-One, were not purged from memory."

  Colin closed his eyes. Dear God. This brainless wonder had let Dahak into the system because he'd identified himself and his codes were still in memory, but now that he was here, it didn't believe in him!

  "How might that programming error be resolved?" he asked at last.

  "Conflicting data must be removed from data base."

  Colin drew another deep breath, aware of just how fragile this entire discussion was. If this computer could decide something Dahak's size didn't exist, it could certainly do the same with the "data anomaly's" captain.

  "Evaluate possibility that Log Reference Rho-Upsilon-Beta-Seven-Six-One-Niner-Four is an incorrect datum," he said flatly.

  "Possibility exists. Probability impossible to assess," Fleet Central replied, and Colin allowed himself a slight feeling of relief. Very slight.

  "In that case, I instruct you to purge it from memory," he said, and held his breath.

  "Incorrect procedure," Fleet Central responded.

  "Incorrect in what fashion?" Colin asked tautly.

  "Full memory purge requires authorization from human command crew."

  Colin cocked a mental ear. Full memory purge?

  "Can data concerning my command be placed in inactive storage on my authority pending proper authorization?"

  "Affirmative."

  "Then I instruct you to do so with previously specified log entry."

  "Proceeding. Data transferred to inactive storage."

  Colin shuddered in explosive relaxation, then gave himself a mental shake. He might well be relaxing too soon.

  "Computer, who am I?" he asked softly.

  "You are Senior Fleet Captain Colinmacintyre, commanding officer HIMP Dahak, Hull Number One-Seven-Two-Two-Niner-One," the voice said emotionlessly.

  "And what is the current location of my command?"

  "HIMP Dahak, Hull Number One-Seven-Two-Two-Niner-One, is currently in Birhat orbit, ten thousand seventeen point-five kilometers distant from Fleet Central," the musical voice told him calmly, and Colin MacIntyre breathed a short, soft, fervent prayer of thanks before jubilation overwhelmed him.

  "All right!" Colin's palms slammed down on the couch arms in triumph.

  "What passeth, my Colin?" an urgent voice demanded through his fold-space link, and he realized he'd left it open.

  "We're in, 'Tanni! Tell all hands-we're in!"

  "Bravely done! Oh, bravely, my heart!"

  "Thank you," he said softly, then straightened and returned to business. "Computer."

  "Yes, Senior Fleet Captain?"

  "What's your name, Computer?"

  "This unit is officially designated Fleet Central Computer Central," the musical voice replied.

  "Is that what your human personnel called you?"

  "Negative, Senior Fleet Captain."

  "Well, then, what did they call you?" Colin asked patiently.

  "Fleet Central personnel refer to Comp Cent as 'Mother.' "

  "Mother," Colin muttered, shaking his head in disbelief. Oh, well, if that was what Fleet Central was used to...

  "All right, Mother, prepare to accept memory core download from Dahak."

  "Ready," Mother said instantly.

  "Dahak, initiate core download but do not purge."

  "Initiating," Dahak replied calmly, and Colin felt an incredible surge of data. He caught only the fringes of it through his feed, but it was like standing on the brink of a river in flood. It was almost frightening, making him suddenly and humbly aware of the storage limitations of a human brain, yet for all its titanic proportions, it took barely ten minutes to complete.

  "Download completed," Mother announced. "Data stored."

  "Excellent! Now, give me a report on Fleet status."

  "Fleet Central authorization code required," Mother told him, and Colin frowned as his enthusiasm was checked abruptly. He didn't know the authorization codes.

  He pulled on the end of his nose, thinking hard. Only Mother "herself" could give him the codes, and the one absolute certainty was that she wouldn't. She accepted him as a senior fleet captain, which entitled him to a certain authority in areas pertaining to his own command but did not entitle him to access the material he de
sperately needed. Which was all the more maddening because he'd become used to instant information flow from Dahak.

  Well, now, why did he have that information from Dahak? Because he was Dahak's commander. And how had he become the CO? Because authority devolved on the senior crew member present and Dahak had chosen to regard a primitive from Earth as a member of his crew. Which suggested one possible approach.