Read The AI War for Free Online

expendable," said the engineer.
    "Depending on the mission—yes."
    John stood. "No one's asked it. Let me be the one. What is there about this part of the galaxy, this Quadrant Blue Nine? According to the computer, no ship that ever came here alone has returned—not in over four thousand years. And," he continued as L'Wrona tried to interrupt, "any inquiries for data older than that gets a 'Non-Available.' "
    "I know," said D'Trelna, leaning on the podium. "All information regarding this sector is proscribed and available only if we're under attack."
    "That's an awful burden to operate under," said John.
    "I protested," said D'Trelna. "S'Gan protested. To no avail."
    "What do we know?" asked N'Trol.
    "Just this," said L'Wrona. "Something happened here that wiped the colonies in this sector and shook the Imperials down to their battle boots. They put this whole quadrant—that's two hundred cubed light-years, gentlemen— under interdict and never came back again."
    "The Confederation probed Blue Nine infrequently, John," said D'Trelna. "Computer gave you those results."
    "Could it have to do with the Trel?" asked Zahava.
    "May we soon find out," said the commodore.
    "And survive the experience," said N'Trol.
    "Here comes Fats," said A'Tir, putting the forward scan on main screen.
    Looking up from ship's status reports, K'Tran read the tactical data threading across the bottom of the screen. On her present course, Implacable would pass close to where Victory Day drifted, not a light showing, her engines cold.
    "Select down to auxiliary power, K'Lal," K'Tran ordered. "They've got Imperial-grade sensors."
    "Selecting down," said the corsair, entering a command. The lighting and instrumentation dimmed.
    "Their sensors will read our hull," said A'Tir, watching Implacable grow large on the screen.
    "Fine," said K'Tran, dialing a drink from the chairarm. "Spectroscopy's going to show we're a meteor—nickel-and-iron."
    "The camouflage baffling," she said.
    "The camouflage baffling." He sipped his t'ata and grimaced. "K'Lal, this is ice-cold."
    "Beverage warming's not a priority on auxiliary, skipper," said K'Lal dryly, adjusting a telltale.
    "Hazards of combat." K'Tran dropped the cup into a disposer.
    Implacable was moving off now, the menacing weapons batteries and sensor clusters shrinking on the screen.
    "What concerns me," said K'Tran, "is our symmetry. If her computer considers that an anomaly, alarms are going to sound."
    "Not to worry," said A'Tir, turning from her console.
    "When they pulled those L'Aal-class cruisers from stasis they modified the shit out of the sensor package—slapped a restrictive overlay on it."
    "What are you saying? They downgraded it?"
    She nodded. "Right down to the primaries. It's our old unreasoning fear of artificial intelligence."
    "Not all that unreasoning," said K'Tran. "The Machine Wars—AIs almost wiped the Empire. Fleet doesn't take chances, especially with resurrected Imperial systems."
    "She's stopping," said A'Tir. Implacable was now stationary, screen-center.
    "She's reached the last set of coordinates, and only one watch after us," said K'Tran. "Not bad." His eyes swept the sensor readings. "At last"—he leaned back in his chair—"after fifty centuries, a ship of K'Ronar is at the legendary Trel Cache. One would expect something dramatic-—the universe trembling, stellar pyrotechnics, the end to life as we know it. Music. Certainly there should be music." He spread his hands. "Nothing. Not even the Trel Cache."
    An alarm beeped. Silencing it, K'Lal read the new data. "Something big, coming in fast." He frowned. "I don't believe these readings!"
    Nine long strides brought K'Tran to the tactics console. His eyes widened as he read the scan. "Big? It's the size of a city! Look at those weapons and speed readings!"
    "Going for Implacable,'" said A'Tir from her station.
    "Slowing," said K'Lal. "Just at the edge of visual." His fingers flew over the complink, trying to firm the