How many s.h.i.+ps left? Kurj thought. For both fleets.
ISC fleet at 306, Rampart answered. ESComm at 298.
Kurj exhaled. He had lost seven hundred s.h.i.+ps in less than three minutes, most of them unscrewed drones. Estimate the probability of successful completion of this engagement in favor of ISC.
Probability is 7988%.
Kurj controlled his wave of triumph. Activate auxiliary Impactors and Annihilators. They needed victory fast. The longer the battle drew out, the more it favored ESComm, which could leak s.h.i.+ps out of superluminal s.p.a.ce for hours.
Quasis jump, Rampart thought. Tau hit on my starboard docking bays. At 159 seconds after the battle began, it added: ISC fleet at 228. ESComm at 140. Probability of successful engagement in favor of ISC at 8394%. Rampart inversion possible in 21 seconds.
Then the Megapolis blasted out of inversion.
The ESComm battle cruiser hurtled into real s.p.a.ce with its Annihilators and Impactors firing, a cloud of smart dust and MIRV missiles racing before it, and an antimatter Wasp the size of a Starslammer destroyer.
At 175 seconds into the battle, five seconds before Rampart could invert, it thought, Quasis jump, followed by: Imperator Skolia, the attack from the Megapolis destroyed over 80% of my body and systems. The ESComm s.h.i.+ps have also planted quasis generators within my hull, using doctored tau missiles.
Kurj absorbed the disaster: all that remained of Rampart was the bridge, several decks, one inversion engine, and a few Klein containment bottles. The deaths of his people tore through his mind, leaving an agonizing sensation of amputation.
Quasis jump, Rampart thought. ISC fleet at 82. ESComm at 265. Probability of ISC success at 37%.
Kurj focused on his displays. Thirty-seven percent. Still a better than a one-in-three chance. Embedded in his command chair, he was a force unlike any ESComm would have met in other battles, both in the Rhon strength of his mind and in the sheer depth of his military experience. Reaching out with a mental power unmatched by anyone alive, even within his own family, he literally grabbed Megapolis with his mind and submerged into the mammoth cruiser, radiating his consciousness along its conduits and pathways, taking Rampart"s awareness with him.
Fire the remaining 6 tau cannons in whip pattern 7, he thought.
At 182 seconds, two seconds after Rampart could have inverted had all its engines survived, five of its last six tau missiles exploded without effect against the Megapolis quasis s.h.i.+eld. The sixth tau penetrated a flaw in the s.h.i.+eld and destroyed seven decks on the cruiser. In the process, it destabilized the fields of nine out of the cruiser"s 462 Klein fuel bottles.
Quasis jump, Rampart thought. ISC fleet at 35. ESComm at 253. Then: I have new information. Ur Qox is aboard the Megapolis.
Kurj froze. How do you know that?
The Megapolis web has been sabotaged. Qox wasn"t supposed to go into battle. Combined with the amplification I am receiving from your mind, that damage has made it possible to penetrate their security.
Fools, Kurj thought. The Traders were so busy stabbing each other in the back, they sabotaged their own war effort.
The emperor intends to board this craft, Rampart thought.
Kurj gritted his teeth. Can we invert with only one engine?
At our rate of acceleration, we will reach sufficient speed in 6 seconds.
What is the probability that in 6 seconds we will still be alive, free, and in a condition to invert?
17%, Rampart thought.
Why so low?
Rampart showed him a display of itself, or what remained, highlighting several areas in red. Continued acceleration or inversion may cause structural collapse in these areas.
What about the ESComm quasis generators in the hull? Kurj asked. Won"t they stop your collapse?
They have frozen my self-destruct systems, but there aren"t enough to stop a full collapse.
So they still had an out. Can you invert sooner?
Any sooner and probability of collapse jumps to over 90%.
Kurj exhaled. A 17 percent chance they could invert. One-in-six odds that he would survive to seek vengeance another day.
One in six.
It meant a five-in-six chance of failure. A five-in-six chance he would die for nothing.
Nor was it likely he would ever be this close to Qox again.
How many Klein containment bottles do you have intact? he asked.
41, Rampart answered.
Kurj considered. Since the attack on Althor"s flotilla, ISC had scrambled to counter this new technique of implanting rogue quasis generators. On such short notice, the best the engineers had been able to do was modify the quasis generators for the Klein fuel bottles on Rampart so their fields interfered with the rogue fields. They hoped to make it appear the bottles were under ESComm direction when, in fact, Rampart still controlled them. But it was a crisis fix, untested, with no guarantee it would work.
Can you operate any of the bottles? Kurj asked.
18, Rampart thought.
Kurj made his decision. Cut the engine. Play dead.
Four seconds before they could have tried to invert, Rampart cut power. It shot through s.p.a.ce at constant speed and Megapolis kept pace, maneuvering into position.
Then came the long process of the hunter taking control of its captured prey.
As soon as Megapolis gained entry into Rampart"s ravaged web, the ESComm cruiser began its captive"s deceleration, dumping Rampart"s velocity over a huge region of s.p.a.ce, gently, to preserve the remains of a s.h.i.+p held together by little more than quasis fields. Megapolis used its rogue quasis generators to block the self-destruct toggles in Kurj"s biomech web. Intending to take no chance this time that their prize would try to kill himself, ESComm put Kurj to sleep.
Or so they thought.
ESComm had no real sense of what they faced in Kurj. He watched from every section of Rampart, submerged even into the picoweb of nan.o.bots that repaired the hull. His spinal nodes put him in a trance state that resembled sleep. But he knew all that happened. Saw it all. Heard it all.
The battle took three minutes; deceleration took three hours. After the cruisers came to a sedate drift, Megapolis took another two hours to secure Rampart. Quasis fields, hull integrity, inversion engine, chemical fuel, fusion engines, antimatter drives, navigation, weapons, science stations, consoles, thrusters, shrouds-Megapolis tested it all, verifying the death of its foe. Again and again its probes pa.s.sed over the Klein bottles, without a blip of warning.
The time came to take possession. Megapolis positioned its great underbelly only meters from Rampart. The ponderous door of a docking bay rolled open, a ten-meter-thick section of hull. Cranes the size of city towers unfolded, lights running along their extent. They closed around Rampart like claws and drew it into the bay.
It took another hour to secure Rampart within Megapolis. Probes locked the quiescent Kurj into his chair, fastening his arms, legs, and neck. By now his mind permeated the very molecular structure of the s.h.i.+p. He checked Rampart"s Klein bottles, smoothed flaws here, fortified camouflage there.
The ESComm probes pa.s.sed over the bottles.
Ten hours after the battle began, Ur Qox, Emperor of Eube, High Commander of ESComm, boarded Rampart. In magnetized boots, he walked, surrounded by mammoth waroids, along the catwalk to the command chair.
Kurj watched from everywhere.
"Revive him," Qox said.
With a stimulant applied, Kurj"s biomech web pretended to awake, resuming activities ESComm could monitor. Kurj opened his eyes, watching Qox from his, own body now as well as from the rest of the bridge. He saw a metal giant locked into the command chair, his face a metal mask with featureless gold s.h.i.+elds where a normal man had eyes.
So Imperator and Emperor met.
Qox nodded. "Imperator Skolia."
Kurj"s voice rumbled. "Emperor Qox." Then he thought: NOW.
Rampart collapsed its Klein bottles. Every particle in every one of eighteen bottles converted to the real universe- And two metric tons of antimatter dumped onto Rampart.
The plasma exploded, tearing apart the s.h.i.+p from within, annihilating everything it touched. Gamma radiation ripped through Rampart and into Megapolis. Brutally energetic reactions cascaded everywhere, setting off more reactions. The eight destabilized Klein bottles on Megapolis collapsed, adding to the storm. The chaos destroyed the protective s.h.i.+elds on the remaining Megapolis fuel bottles-and over 450 Klein bottles dropped their contents into real s.p.a.ce.
The ensuing maelstrom blasted across s.p.a.ce, obliterating all trace of the ISC and ESComm fleets: It took with it the two most powerful war leaders known in the history of the human race, one who died as the unrepentant tormentor of humanity and the other who died having finally made peace with the torments that ravaged his heart.
V - The Radiance War
15.
Viquara, Empress of Eube, walked through the Hall of Circles. The Aristos of Glory filled the seats, rank upon rank. Silent. Watching. An escort of Razer bodyguards surrounded her, those select few she had best reason to believe remained faithful to the Carnelian Throne. In the silence of the watching Circles, she walked to the dais, tall and silent, wearing a gown made from threads of black diamond, her hair falling to her waist in a glittering sheet like spun black diamond.
She reached the dais and stood by the throne, looking out at the Aristos. Snow-marble, ruby, diamond. Jewels. Hard, chill, and silent. Do jewels have a soul? she wondered. Did it matter?
In the outer Circles, where the lowest ranked Aristos sat, she recognized almost no one. The inner Circles told a different story: here sat High Judge Calope, of the Line of Muze, the grieving wife of Admiral Ajaks, in glittering black mourning; here sat Izar Vitrex, Minister of Intelligence, he too in black; his wife Sharla, with her snow-marble face, red eyes, and black diamond gown; Kryx Quaelen, tall, broad-shouldered, contaminated.
As one, the Aristos of the Circles raised their hands, each with a black diamond cymbal on their thumb and forefinger. As one they clicked the cymbals. The hundreds of chimes combined into a single resonant note. Again they clicked and again the resonant note rang out. The double click had been heard only two other times in Eube history, at the death of Jaibriol I, father to Ur Qox, and at the death of Eube, grandfather to Ur Qox.
Viquara spoke in a voice as cold as the empty s.p.a.ce in her heart. "The Line of Qox acknowledges the honor you bestow."
They continued to watch her. Silent. She knew the question they had come to hear answered. By what right did she claim the Carnelian Throne? She had no Qox blood.
Two of those seated before her carried that blood in their veins: Corbal Xir, firstborn son of Eube Qox"s sister Ilina; and Calope Muze, last and only living child of Eube"s youngest sister Tarquine. Many would claim they had more right to the throne. Viquara knew she needed a better tie to the Qox bloodline than marriage.
She laid her hand on the glittering throne. "My husband once sat here." Her voice carried throughout the Hall. "His son will do the same."
A whisper of cymbals came from the Circles. With the Razers at her back, always alert, Viquara waited. She neither heard nor expected a challenge now. When those came-and come they would-they would be silent and hidden.
She spoke again. "Rumor has claimed that Emperor Qox, whose esteemed memory we revere, hid our son to protect him from ISC malevolence. Those rumors were true, but in a way none may expect." She touched her abdomen, where the lie had begun its life. "Years ago Ur Qox and I fertilized my eggs with his sperm and froze them. I now carry one of those eggs."
The Aristos waited. Highton, Diamond, Silicate. All waited to hear more. Viquara let them wait. She had said enough. The situation required she speak and she had done so. Let them bring challenge now if they dared.
In life, Ur had refused her pleas to heal her barren womb. He monitored her every move, blocked her every turn. But he was dead now, and she, Viquara, wielded the power of the throne. Those doctors who had refused to help now jumped to her bidding.
She had formulated this plan the day Ur told her another Highton woman had borne him a child, an heir he would name Jaibriol, to fill the barren void Viquara had left in his life. Over the years Viquara had stolen samples from Jaibriol: a lock of hair, a nail clipping, a sc.r.a.pe of skin, a drop of saliva. With exacting care she stored those precious cells.
Now, when the time had come to harvest them, many of the cells inexplicably failed her. But her geneticist spurred three into healthy totipotence, reawakening their full genetic code, so that each offered a full blueprint of Jaibriol Qox.
The doctor removed three of Viquara"s eggs and fertilized them with sperm from one of her providers. She then replaced the nucleus in each fertilized egg with a nucleus from one of Jaibriol"s three reawakened cells. One egg died, but the other two survived. So Viquara created two clones of Jaibriol.
Next the doctor repaired Viquara"s womb and implanted one egg, leaving the second in storage as a backup. Thus would Viquara make the abiding lie of Jaibriol"s birth into truth. She carried a clone of her "son." Genetic tests done on it would match those for Jaibriol and verify the child as the son of Ur Qox.
Highton bloodlines meant strength. Aristos weren"t like psions, whose genetic weakness made them almost impossible to clone. Highton clones thrived.
So she ensured her claim to the Carnelian Throne.
Izar Vitrex, Minister of Intelligence, came to observe his people at work. Equipment filled the laboratory: huge machines crouched against the ceiling, silver gurneys whispered by on wheels, consoles flickered with light.
Today the technicians had Althor in a chair. Its back was part of the wall, embedded with conduits. Metal bands fastened Althor"s upper arms to the wall, his wrists to the arms of the chair, and his ankles to its legs. Two technicians stood in front of him and two more watched from a few paces back. Someone had folded his clothes into a pile on a nearby stool. His gold head hung to his chest, though whether he was unconscious or simply exhausted Vitrex couldn"t tell.
Oq Vitrexson was leaning over Althor. A gaunt taskmaster with glittering hair and rusty eyes, Oq had distinguished himself as one of Vitrex"s best techs. Oq was also his half brother, a son of Vitrex"s late father by one of his providers.
Taking a handful of Althor"s hair, Oq pulled up the Ruby prince"s head and spoke in a pleasant tone. "Let"s go back to our earlier conversation. Onyx Platform."
Althor stared at him with drug-bleared eyes.
"Onyx," Oq repeated. "You have a number of weapons platforms there. You want to tell me about it."
"I can"t," Althor rasped.
"No?" Oq struck Althor, knocking his head against the wall.
As Althor groaned, a wave of transcendence swept over Vitrex. He stiffened, trying to smother it. Transcendence, what an Aristo shared with a provider, was a private experience, inappropriate in this situation.
A specialized series of nanomeds in his body could damp his reaction to providers, by making kylatine blockers that m.u.f.fled his reception of an empath"s mind. He activated the meds through a sequence of neural firing patterns. It was easy to produce the sequence; all he had to do was think a key phrase. For his key, he drew on one of Eube"s best-known poets, Carzalan Kri, who centuries ago had written verses for his favored provider: You glimmer in my darkling sight, With your tender golden fears.
Sing shadows from the glist"ning light; Sing s.h.i.+mmering sensual tears.
Lie starless in your beauty bound, So tremulous in the night.
Lie softly in my thundering arms, Beneath my darkening might.
Almost all Aristos used such techniques. Those few who let their need for providers filter into their public lives became pariahs.
As Vitrex joined the lab technicians, Oq bowed. "My honor at your presence, Minister Vitrex."