The Armageddon Inheritance

“Apparently the master computer maintains the Aku’Ultan population in the fashion Senior Fleet Captain Coha

“I would speculate that the absence of any females is a security measure which both removes the most probable source of countervailing loyalty—one’s own mate and progeny—and insures that there can be no ‘unprogrammed’ Aku’Ultan, since only those produced under the computer’s auspices can exist.

“From what I have so far discovered, rank-and-file Protectors do not even suspect they are controlled by non-biological intelligences. I would speculate that even those who have attained the rank of small lords—possibly even of lesser lords—regard ‘Battle Comp’ as a comprehensive source of advice and doctrine from the Nest Lord, not as an intelligence in its own right. Only command ships possess truly self-aware computers, and, so far as I can determine, lower level command ships’ computers are substantially less capable than those above them. It would appear the master computer has no desire to create a potential rival, which may also explain both the lock on research and the limited capabilities of most Aku’Ultan warships. By prohibiting technical advances, the master computer avoids the creation of a technocrat caste which might threaten its control; by limiting the capability of its warships, it curtails the ability of any rebellion, already virtually impossible, to threaten its own defenses. In addition, however, I suspect the limited capability of these ships is intended to increase Aku’Ultan casualties.”

“Why would it want that?” Tamman asked intently.

“The entire policy of Great Visits is designed to perpetuate continuous military operations ‘in defense of the Nest.’ It may be that this eternal warfare is necessary for the master computer to continue in control under its core programming. Psychologically, the loss of numerous vessels on Great Visits reinforces the Aku’Ultan perception that the universe is filled by threats to their very existence.”

“God,” Adrie

“Indeed. In addition, they—” Dahak broke off suddenly.

“Dahak?” Colin asked in surprise.

“A moment,” the computer said so abruptly he eyed his companions in consternation. He had never heard Dahak sound so brusque. The silence stretched out endlessly before Dahak finally spoke again.

“Your Majesty,” he said very formally, “I have continued my attempt to derive the security codes during this briefing. I have now succeeded. I must inform you that they protected military information of extreme importance.”

“Military—?” Colin’s eyes widened, then narrowed suddenly.

“We didn’t get them all,” he said in a flat, frozen tone.

“We did not, Sire,” Dahak said, and a chorus of gasps ran around the conference room.

“How bad is it?”

“This force was commanded by Great Lord of Order Hothan, the Great Visit’s second in command. In light of Great Lord Sorkar’s reports of our first clash, the main body was split.”

“Maker!” Tamman breathed.

“Great Lord Hothan proceeded immediately to rendezvous with Great Lord Sorkar,” Dahak continued. “Great Lord Tharno is currently awaiting word from them with a reserve of approximately two hundred seven thousand ships, including his own flagship—the true viceroy of this incursion.”

Colin knew his face was bone-white and strained, but he could do nothing about that. It was all he could do to hold his voice together.

“Do we know where they are?”

“At this moment, they are three Aku’Ultan light-years—three-point-eight- four-nine Terran light-years—distant. I calculate that the survivors of Great Lord Hothan’s force will reach them in six more days. Twenty-nine days after that—that is, in thirty-five Terran days—they will arrive here.”

“Even after what happened to them?”

“Affirmative, Sire. I calculate that the survivors of our battle will inform Great Lord Tharno—or, more accurately, his command computer—of what transpired, and of our own losses. The logical response will be to advance in order to determine whether or not we have received reinforcements. If we have not, Battle Comp will deduce—correctly—that none are available to us. In that case, the logical course will be to overwhelm us and then advance upon the planet from which Great Lord Furtag’s scouting reports indicate we come.”

“Sweet Jesus,” Adrie

Chapter Twenty-Six

“I blew it, ’Ta

Colin MacIntyre stood staring into the depths of Dahak’s holo-display while his wife sat in the captain’s couch behind him. The spangled light of stars gleamed on her raven hair, and one hand gripped the dagger at her waist.

“I know how thou dost feel, my Colin, yet ’tis sooth, as Dahak saith. Even if this Tharno comes now upon us, what other choice did lie open to thee?”

“But I should’ve pla

“How now? Given what thou didst know, how else might thou have acted? Nay, it ill beseemeth thee to take too great a blame upon thyself.”

“Jiltanith is correct,” Dahak said. “There was no way to predict this eventuality, and you have already inflicted more damage than any previous Achuultani incursion has ever suffered.”

“It’s not enough,” Colin said heavily, but he shook himself and turned to face Jiltanith at last. She smiled at him, some of the strain easing out of her expression; Dahak said nothing, but his relief at Colin’s reaction flowed into both humans through their neural feeds.

“All right, maybe I am being too hard on myself, but we still have a problem. What do we do now?”

“’Tis hard to know,” Jiltanith mused. “Could we but do it, ’twere doubtless best to fall back on Terra. There, aided by the parasites we did leave with Gerald, might we well give even Tharno pause.”

“Not a big enough one. Not with our ma

“Unfortunately, that is true,” Dahak agreed. “Though they have scarcely twenty percent of Great Lord Hothan’s numbers, they have very nearly seventy percent of his firepower. Indeed, had they maintained their unity, they might well have won our last engagement.”

“That may be, but it’s kind of small comfort. We had seventy warships and surprise then; we’ve only got twenty-six now, all but one damaged, and they know a lot of our tricks. The odds suck.”

“In truth, yet must we stand and fight, my heart, for, look thou, and we flee before them, we lose the half of our own vessels—and abandon Dahak.”

“I know.” Colin sat and slid an arm about her. “I wish you were wrong, babe, but you seldom are, are you?”

“’Tis good in thee so to say, in any case.” She managed a small smile.

“Your Majesty,” Dahak said, and Colin frowned at the formality. Dahak intended to say something he expected Colin not to like.