The Battle for Terra Two (23 page)

"Admiral Hochmeister," said John, rising from the prone firing position, "Guan-Sharick. Guan-Sharick, Admiral Hochmeister."

"You look just like Shalan-Actal, Guan-Sharick," said the admiral.

"Appearances can be deceiving, can't they, Admiral? Or should I say Colonel?"

"You're well-informed, Guan-Sharick."

"True."

"One more thing, L'Wrona." The transmute looked at the Margrave. "The growth accelerant Shalan-Actal's using in the nutrient cell walls—it's highly volatile. A few well-placed shots and the cavern will torch."

The S'Cotar was gone.

Everyone looked at L'Wrona. "Use the bug's figures.

S'Til," he said after a few seconds. "The rest of you, back off and take cover." Outside, the blizzard roared higher.

"Well, what have we here?" said K'Tran, his breath fogging the tactics scan.

"Incoming ship," said A'Tir, looking over his shoulder. She rubbed her hands, red from the cold, then reached over, making a careful adjustment. More data flowed into the readout. "R'Dal-class dreadnought—latest thing out of the yards."

"He's signaling, Captain," said S'Kal. Still wearing a commander's uniform, the big red-bearded corsair was the only other person on the bridge.

K'Tran stepped to the Engineering station, turning on the bridge lights and bringing the heat up. "Get your jackets off," he ordered, stripping down to his tunic.

"There," he said, sitting back in the command chair, as warm air flowed from the floor vents. "Put him on, S'Kal."

"Commodore D'Trelna?" asked the young captain whose face appeared in the monitor. K'Tran noted the double row of battle ribbons on her tunic.

"No, Captain," he said. "I'm Captain T'Ral. You're our reinforcements?"

"The first part of them. Another dreadnought and two cruisers were jump-scheduled a watch after us."

"And you are?"

"Captain G'Ryn, commanding the R'Dal-class dreadnought
Victory Day."

"Welcome to the Terran system, Captain," smiled K'Tran. "My first officer says you're authenticated and cleared for insystem."

G'Ryn frowned, touching a finger to her ear. "Captain

J'Tan," she said, "Your authentication failed. And we read you as a light cruiser and two frigates, not a L'Aal-class cruiser and a destroyer."

"Oh?" K'Tran looked perturbed. "Now I'm confused, Captain. Didn't FleetOps advise you?
Implacable
and
V'Tran's
Glory
have been lost—max casualties."

"D'Trelna, dead?" she asked, disbelieving.

K'Tran nodded. "And L'Wrona, too. There was a S'Cotar attack from that parallel reality—wiped both ships just as we came insystem. The S'Cotar fell back through their portal as we approached."

"And your codes?"

"We're a pickup force—been on deep-space patrol for the last three years. Our codes are obsolete. We've no skipcomm buoy. And the attack that wiped D'Trelna's force also took out their skipcomm buoy."

"I can't believe D'Trelna's dead." G'Ryn shook her head. "I served under him for a year—a harrier squadron inside S'Cotar space. He brought us home with only forty-percent casualties."

"Believe me," said K'Tran, "he's gone."

"I'll deploy a skipcomm buoy, Captain."

K'Tran held up a hand. "Don't—not until we've met."

"Why . . ."

"I don't want to explain over the commnet. I'll brief you when we rendezvous."

"Very well." she said. "I'll shuttle over as soon as we arrive."

K'Tran smiled. "Please, bring your crew over, too. It's been a long time since we've seen new faces."

"Can you accommodate several hundred?" she asked.

"Not only accommodate them, Captain—I think we can promise you a memorable reception."

"Certainly looks like Terra One," said D'Trelna. He sat at the flag officer's station, watching Australia and New Zealand roll by on the main screen.

"The population centers are smaller," said K'Raoda, reading a comparison scan. "Sydney and Melbourne are about a third the size of their alternates."

"We'll be coming up on the Maximus site in a moment," said T'Ral. "No ship traces . . . wait.

"Scanning a Probe class scout, mark one-three, two-one-four."

"Gunnery," said D'Trelna, "standby. Target coming up."

T'Ral read a new scan. "Negative life support. Negative drive core flow to hull jump nodules." He looked up, surprised. "She's a derelict."

"Abandoned," said K'Raoda, reading his own telltales. "Why?"

"Maybe to augment
V'Tran's'
drive," said D'Trelna. "If the machines' universe isn't on the next plane to this one, like Terra Two, they may need more power to punch through."

"How'd they get that scout here?" said K'Raoda. "Piece by piece through the Maximus portal," said T'Ral.

"He's right," said D'Trelna. "That scout's no larger than one of our shuttles.

"If we haven't picked up traces of our destroyer by the time we reach Maximus, deploy scanning satellites."

"Got them," said T'Ral a few moments later, as they passed over California. Computer recorded without comment a coastline radically different than that of Terra One.

"Mark one-seven, five-two-nine—just above . . ." He frowned. "They're creating a portal. Same general parameters as Maximus and the space portals—some minor energy anomalies."

"Scan to screen," said D'Trelna. His eyes narrowed as the scan graphics came up: two green points of light equidistant from a single circle—a circle that grew larger as they watched. Targeting data began threading across the board.

"No shield," said K'Raoda. "They're diverting all energy to the portal."

"That's
V'Tran
's
Glory,
all right," said D'Trelna, reading the data.

"Coming within their scan range," said T'Ral.

"Sitting up here bare-assed." The commodore punched into the commnet. "Gunnery. D'Trelna. Imperiad one-seven to Archon five. Take targeting feed and blow that ship away."

"Acknowledged," said B'Tul. "Destroy target."

"Attention. Attention." It was computer—calm but very loud. "The portal has closed. The portal has closed."

They all looked up at the screen. The two green lights and the black were still there, the black continuing to expand.

"Computer—verify," said D'Trelna, annoyed.

"Our portal, Commodore," said T'Ral, checking a permanent rearward scan. "Our portal is gone!"

"Verified," said computer. "Portal to Terra One is gone."

"K'Tran!" D'Trelna lunged for the commlink. "Gunnery. Redoubt one to flanking commander two. Abort that kill order!"

"Order aborted, Commodore," said B'Tul. "Just."

"Machine failure?" suggested K'Raoda. "K'Tran," repeated D'Trelna. "Gunnery. Take out
V'Tran
's'
shield nexus."

Far amidships, in gunnery control, BTul called up a projection of
V'Tran's Glory.
Marking the forward shield nexus in flashing amber, he fed in the targeting data and pushed "Execute."

A stylus-thin red beam flicked from the number seven fusion battery, spanned two and half thousand miles of space and disintegrated a hull relay pod the size of a geode.

"Shield nexus destroyed, Commodore," reported the gunner.

"Very well."

"Something unwholesome is coming through the portal very soon," said D'Trelna as they continued to close on the two ships, "or they'd have run."

He turned toward Engineering. "Lock a tractor beam on that ship, N'Trol. Pull it away from the portal," he said. "Carefully. It's our only way home."

Shalan-Actal flicked from the auxiliary command post, deep in the Vermont granite beneath Maximus, to the bridge of
V'Tran's Glory.
Four transmutes worked the instruments, teleporting between twenty-four bridge stations. At the twenty-fifth station a bubble hovered above the command chair. About five feet in diameter, its interior swirled with a sullen red haze.

You and we haven't much time,
said the Tactics Master.

We have enough time,
replied a chill thought.
We are within the prescribed area. When this flashes,
a blue beam sprang from the top of the bubble, touching a telltale,
our portals are joined. Reinforcements will pour through. Nothing can stop us.

You were stopped twice before—banished from this reality,
said Shalan-Actal.
By the Empire and by the Trel of prehistory.

The crimson mist swirled darker.
The Empire is dust. The Trel less than that.

You are about to be tractor-towed and boarded. The K'Ronarins need that portal device. They are many, we and you are few. They will retake this ship.

Not before the Armada of the One is here. Our ships carry many such portal devices. We will retake the Home Universe. We will find the Betrayer.

The telltale flashed blue.

Victory,
said bubble.

K'Ronarin commandos have penetrated the breeding vaults!
came the distant alert.
They're firing the chambers!

I will not save you at our expense,
said the transmute, antennae weaving in agitation.
You are on your own, Forward Commander of the One.

Shalan-Actal flicked back to Maximus, taking the handful of S'Cotar from the ship with him.

The last hundred warriors of the once Infinite Hosts of the Magnificent huddled in the old British barracks, sheltering around propane heaters from the blizzard howling under the eaves. Hatched and raised in dry, warm caverns beneath Terra's Moon, serving mostly aboard starships, this was their first exposure to a planet's wilder elements. They stood in small, uncertain groups, feet shuffling uneasily in the flickering light from the emergency generator.

Take arms!
ordered the Tactics Master.
The K'Ronarins are torching the last hope of the Race!

The blast was still echoing when L'Wrona ducked into the hole. Following, John saw a dark blur of himself, mirrored in the fused black surface of the blasthole; then he was through, standing on a gray granite floor.

"Good God!" He looked up and around. "It's huge."

Ringed by catwalks, the breeding vault soared fifteen levels—thousands of small hexagonal chambers, all a misty jade-green. Gray equipment banks filled the half mile of floor, red-white light pulsing along scan and control feeds up to the chambers. Half a dozen unarmed S'Cotar techs lay dead, cut down by the K'Ronarins.

L'Wrona twisted his blaster muzzle right, two soft clicks. "First squad, set weapons on diffused beam," he ordered as the last of the commandos entered the cavern. "Fire those cells. The rest of you, high alert." Aiming two-handed at the top tier of cells, he pulled the trigger, sweeping the broad beam slowly along the cell walls.

"It certainly is 'volatile,' " said Hochmeister, standing beside John. The two shielded their eyes as fierce green-tinged flames leaped toward the ceiling.

Fire raced along the catwalks as the commandos emptied their chargepaks into the walls. Thick, pungent smoke drifted down.

"S'Cotar!" shouted a commando.

Shalan-Actal and his force materialized in the vault's center. Blasters shrilled, blue-and-red bolts knifing through the smoke.

Choking, tears streaming down his face, John held his fire again and again as uncertain targets drifted through the smoke.

Something shoved him, hard. Caught off balance, he sprawled to the floor as a burning section of fused wall fell, exploding where he'd stood, showering him with molten fragments.

A thin hand reached down. John took it, letting Hochmeister help him up. The admiral tried to speak, then coughed. Shaking his head, he pointed toward the blasthole. John nodded. Together, they staggered toward the tunnel.

"Out!" L'Wrona ordered over the commnet. "Fall back!"

Feeling their way along the wall, John and Hochmeister made it to the blasthole.

The smoke wasn't as bad in the tunnel. Others staggered after them, choking and coughing, throwing themselves to the floor and the fresh stream of cold, clear air.

It slept, dimly aware that it was many yet one. Sleeping, it grew, the bonds between it entwining and thickening. Sensed but untested, it felt its strength also growing— strength it perceived as a warm glow, having no concept of strength, no concept of anything other than itself. Soon it would awake, an odd child of power, hungry and curious.

The pain struck without warning, a searing, devouring pain.

Wounded, it awoke, child of a warrior race. Terrified and angry, it lashed out.

Wheezing from the smoke, Shalan-Actal dropped Corporal N'Tron. The commando's head lolled to one side, neck broken, eyes blue and startled, staring sightless into the fire.

They are falling back through the blasthole,
reported a warrior.
Pursue?

One file only. All others, deploy foggers, tiers one through . . .

The fire went out, like a light turned off. The smoke was gone. The S'Cotar watched, unbelieving, as the breeding chambers repaired themselves, a green blur of speed.

The pain easing, it sought the source. There. Down there.

You are a fool, Shalan-Actal. You were warned about the growth accelerant.

Guan-Sharick?
The Tactics Master followed that tendril of thought—within range. He tried flicking himself at it. He couldn't teleport.

It won't let you leave, will it?
taunted Guan-Sharick.

What is it?
he asked desperately.

Your children, Shalan-Actal. Your children becoming something Else. An angry child, Tactics Master.

The walls began rippling with cold green glow.

Out!
ordered Shalan-Actal.
Use the K'Ronarin blasthole.

Last one into the drainage pipe, L'Wrona turned, eyes streaming, and rolled a grenade back in. It detonated with a loud blast, blowback exploding into the tunnel, collapsing the blasthole.

The cold green fire left the wall in small clusters, drifting down to where the S'Cotar milled in confusion. Touching warriors' weapons, it released their potential just as the grenade detonated.