Bloodhype (30 page)

A rock spoke. The temperature of the sun rose, fell, rose again. There was a sudden high tide with no moon in the sky. Moral considerations aside, it was apparent that the Vom was winning.

With the resources of half a million years of accumulated knowledge and power, the Guardian-Machine fought back. But it had waited too long. Its power was finite. It could not grow as the Vom was growing. Too strong, too quickly. Miscalculation. The Guardian-Machine foresaw disaster.

The Vom was stronger now than it had been even when the Guardian was first activated, millenia ago. The stimulus of battle forced it to grow exponentially. It would forge another empire dedicated to, constructed for, one purpose. The perpetuation and greater glory of the Vom. There would be no mistakes this time. No underestimation of an opponent. The Guardian must be rendered permanently inactive. This time the Vom would not abuse its life-resources. The small intelligences would be assimilated carefully, to insure continuation of a healthy ecosystem. No wanton consumption. Feeding would be judicious, entertainment and experiment well reasoned. It would . . .

Something struck the Vom elsewise. Something strange, new, unaccountable, and utterly undetected aforehand. It was raw strength, more powerful even than the Guardian-Machine, but not as mature, as sophisticated in the use of power. It was different and it showed. It fought unrelentingly, uncompromisingly, openly. It fought mathematically diverse and helically perverse.

Unemotionally the Vom retreated, countered, struck back. The counterattack rebounded. No victory; no defeat.

The stalemate was resumed.

A hundred parsecs away a quartz pebble (not very good quartz, but honest quartz) blazed momentarily with the light of a thousand suns. There were none around to appreciate it. The light died, but the pebble lived.

Stalemate.

“Well, what is it, Hanover?” Ashvenarya said gruffly. It would not have been proper nor seemly for a thranx to be upset this far from action, but the Admiral was tense nonetheless. Given the peculiarities of the situation, he felt it justified.

“We are within influence of the system, sir. The fleet is going off KK drive and . . .”

“I know that, lieutenant. The flagship went off it nearly thirty minutes ago and I should damn well hope the others followed suit. Get to your point.”

“Sir, there appears to be another fleet already in orbit around the planet. Since we’ve received no official notification of another major force in this sector I thought . . .”

The admiral was already running for the lift, rubbing at his bad compound eye with silicon-treated tissue. The lieutenant had to move awkwardly, running every few steps. The old sector commander was moving on all four legs.

“You retain information like a machine, Hanover. Which is one of the reasons I keep you as aide. Egg knows there’re few enough. You’re quite correct. I ordered no other ships sent to Repler and there aren’t any other Church or Commonwealth forces close enough to be here before us. Which leaves one alternative. Whoever mans those ships is neither human nor thranx. I admit that’s not logical either, but then nothing about this situation has been so far.”

The lift carried them to the bubble nexus suspended in the center of the battlewagon.

“Preliminary evaluation?” Ashvenarya barked as he floated smoothly down a rampway.

“The distance is still substantial, sir, and we have the sun full in front. Ship’s predictors read thirty-nine confirmed, with at least twelve probables. Battle-fleet class, sir.”

“Tunnels! Now I have this to worry on, too.”

“I confess surprise, sir, that the commander of the local garrison did not try to warn you via interspace of this fleet’s presence.”

“Orvenalix is a capable officer, Lieutenant. I don’t doubt he didn’t because he couldn’t. Or he might have tried and been jammed, coerced, shot . . . we swim in ignorance for now.”

They entered a gravity lock, slipped slowly and easily into free-fall. It wasn’t true free-fall, being rather a state in which artificial gravity was negated. Something like swimming through thin gelatin. The complex state, difficult to maintain, was generated only at the center of the ship, its battle headquarters and flight center. A military secret as fanatically guarded as the mechanism of the KK SCCAM weapons-system, the field would protect them from everything but complete power loss or direct hit.

“For another thing, lieutenant, he might have feared the AAnn would pick up and decode a message that might precipitate action.”

“You suspect them then, sir?”

“They have a naval base of considerable size nearby. I know of few other races cohabiting this section of space that could mount a force of this size, even if they had the time to assemble them from across the Arm. Anyway, I would assume it to be our reptilian compatriots even were this a small force. With a fleet, I think the question becomes academic.”

“Do you think they may already have . . .?”

“No, no, lieutenant. Were that the case, we
would
have heard something.”

Churchmen of many races, with thranx and human predominating, saluted smartly when the Admiral floated into the battle center. He returned them easily with a truhand while heading rapidly for his combat basket. The lieutenant took up his own post nearby.

The old Commander had run a thousand possibilities and alternatives through his mind while conversing with his young human aide. The thoughts itched. Incidentally, he reflected that Lieutenant Hanover might metamorphose into a fine commander someday. Despite the mask of fawning innocence he occasionally chose to wear, the lad was sharp as a sting. The mask was well-crafted, too. Another point in his favor. But he still needed honing and a lot of hard prodding in the imagination. He ought to receive plenty of both, this trip.

“Communications! I’d appreciate it if you’d try and raise the flagship of our unknown visitors.”

At that moment a frail-looking thranx seated across the center, looking as much a part of his instrumentation as a computer terminal, turned slightly in his harness.

“By remarkable coincidence, sir, I have this very second acquired a signal which appears directed at us from the formation in question. I envision a confluence of objectives.”

“Spare me the philosophy and put it through.”

An elderly reptilian face, haughty and proud, white-scaled, appeared on the big screen over the commboard.

“His munificence,” began the official herald, “the Baron Riidi WW, Ruler of Torsee Provinces, Executor of . . .”

“Spare me the titles this once,” Ashvenarya broke in, “and put your commander on.”

The face froze. “Proper diplomatic courtesy demands that . . .” The admonition was interrupted by a strong offscreen voice. It hissed surprisingly little for an AAnn.

“Never mind, herald.” There was a brief flicker and another reptilian face appeared on the screen. It was sharp-featured, almost handsome, proud. The gaze was piercing. “Whom have I the pleasure of addressing?”

“Admiral Aslwenarya, Fourth Sector Commandant, Humanx Commonwealth, operating under United Church charter and I’ll skip a few titles of my own. A little out of your regular bailiwick, aren’t you, Baron?”

“And you too are here with so many ships for rest and relaxation on the pleasure-world below, Admiral?” The tone was mildly reproachful. “It remains that a threat to the entire galaxy lies on the planet below us.”

“Would you be referring to a certain amorphous black monstrosity of unknown origins and, from what I am told, rather considerable powers?”

“Unless you know of another. As I guessed, our purpose here appears to be the same, then.”

“Not quite, Baron. That’s a humanx colony orbiting below us, and my presence here is perfectly natural. Yours, I fear, remains open to certain questions.”

The Baron affected an air of outrage. “No action of any sort was contemplated without the prior concurrence of the local authorities.”

“I’d like to believe that, Baron. Indeed, I’d like to believe that. For many reasons.”

“Not the least of which, Admiral, is that we are of no use to our respective races if we battle among ourselves,
fya?
If you will merely contact your commandant below—a Major of the Church name of Orvenalix, I believe—I’ve no doubt he will agree to the course of action I have in mind. I offer a joint council of war, not a declaration of one.”

“I think we might struggle along without your help,” the thranx admiral replied.

“Sir, the commander of the Imperial Enclave on Repler had the opportunity to observe this creature’s strength at closer claw than was desired. This as his own station was being pulled down around his oculars. He would not agree with you. I myself inspected the ruins of his command.
I
do not agree with you. Were you to have seen the same, I venture to say you would not agree with you. In fact, I would hope that between the two of us we
may
be able to control the monster.”

Ashvenarya considered. Briefly.

“Perhaps. Very well, I trust you—from microsecond to microsecond.”

“My own extends no longer.”

“Our ships will move into orbits confluent with yours. While I determine upon a course of action you will take no action on your own. This must be understood.”

“Understood,” replied the Baron placidly. “Only, please not to take overlong, Admiral, or our agreement will become strained . . . by time.”

“It might prove that a joint action of some sort is required, much as the thought distresses me.”

“I have little love for your kind, either, Admiral.” Teeth flashed. “Under normal circumstances . . .”

“Which these are definitely, conclusively, not.” Ashvenarya waved and the contact was broken.

Despite the violent attack levied by a new and completely unexpected opponent, the Vom found cause to rejoice. A second fleet! More strength to complement its own! It could now travel from planet to planet in almost respectable fashion.

For possibly the ten thousandth time it tried to analyze this new power arrayed against it. About the Guardian’s mental attitude it had no qualms. The Guardian-Machine had been and would be an implacable opponent until one of the two ancient enemies was destroyed.

But what of this new factor? Could it mayhap be persuaded into a realignment of forces for mutual benefit? With a galaxy at stake, the Vom was willing to share. Or could it at least be convinced to withdraw from an ancient and private conflict, leaving the way clear for the Vom’s victory?

The Vom reached out again and made contact. What it encountered on a non-combatant level was surprising. This second opponent had not even fully matured, had not mastered its own power! In its probing the Vom must take care not to stir latent abilities, hidden secrets, not to upset the balance of internal power. The potential here was frightening.

In fear the Vom nearly backed off. But after determining that the being could not read the sub-surface layers of Vom-thought, it returned to the contact, expanded it.

(curiously: dialogue on a Different plane)

WHO ARE YOU?

(picture contact nee verbal/concept sub-vocalization)

A TRANSPARENT ORCHID : SUNSPOTS ON LEAVES: STAMEN AND PETAL: SLOW FUSION

(rejoinder)

AND YOU, MONSTER?

(arrow-straight conceptualization)

GREAT VOID : VOIDNESS? : ANGRY VACUUM DARK EFFLUVIA : MALIGNANT MIASMA : CANCER MUSING : OLEAGINOUS OLLAPODRIDA

(pause)

WHY DO YOU FIGHT ME?

YOU ARE EVIL

(confusion/introspection/analysis)

EVIL? THERE IS NO EVIL

IT MAY BE SO. BUT THERE IS WHAT IS COMMONLY RATIONALIZED AS GOOD. YOU ARE CLEARLY NOT-GOOD. A GOOD-NEGATIVE YOU TRY TO RATIONALIZE EVIL. CHAOS!

(consideration/thought/tacking)

FIGHT ME NO MORE AND I WILL MAKE YOU MASTER OF HALF THE GALAXY.

THE GALAXY HAS TOO MANY MASTERS ALREADY. NO.

WHAT CAN I OFFER YOU?

YOUR DEATH.

(anger/arrogance/disbelief)

COMPLAISANT COMPLIANCE? SURRENDER? ACQUIESCE? INTRODUCE NEGATIVES INTO A SUPREME FUNCTIONARY NEGATIVITY? NEVER!

SEE? YOU
MUST
DIE (strange voice)

I CANNOT DIE : I WILL NOT DIE : I DO NOT KNOW HOW TO DIE

THEN I MUST HELP YOU TO LEARN

The Vom terminated contact. With all its shadings and half-tones, the entire conversation had taken perhaps a few seconds.

The strange opponent possessed a self-confidence that conflicted with its lack of self-knowledge. Maybe, the Vom considered, it was fighting on too personal a level. Possibly an exterior demonstration would have some moral effect.

Using its fully matured mind for the first time beyond the battle, the Vom reached out . . .

On board the humanx flagship
Zimbabwe,
instruments died with suddenness and finality. The eerie blue-green of the local emergency lighting flickered on a moment later.

There was little panic in the nexus. After all, this was the nerve-center of the fleet. The personnel were the class of each rating. So there was no hysteria.

Things went otherwise on some other ships.

“Communications, all ships report status. Hold position, hold fire. Commodore, damage report. All hands to battle stations.”

The replies came thick and fast.

“Communications, sir. All intership comm units, including storage and backup facil . . .”

“ . . . no visible damage or shorting, sarge! It’s crazy . . .!”

“ . . . ities on all ship channels inoperable. Emergency backup systematization totally inoperative, Admiral.”

“That’s impos . . .! Status report!” Ashvenarya accepted the situation and changed in mid-sentence.

Again, quick reply.

“All communicators down to hand-units inoperable. Engineering reports central KK drive unit shut down for sub-light as well as supra-light capability at 0954.4 ship-time.” The communicator’s tone changed to one less officious. “That means the whole ship is in free-fall status, sir.”

“Going to play havoc with the housekeeping. What else?”

An engineer was bent over a heavily instrumented console. He was checking dials and meters against a computer readout. A muscle twitched nervously in his neck.