Sighing, S'Rel sank into one of the red leather armchairs fronting the director's desk and leaned forward earnestly, hands on his knees. "Here's how it looks from FleetOps, Bill. We fought the S'Cotar for ten years, lost millions of people, scores of planets. We were about to lose it all when D'Trelna and Implacable Implacable stumbled onto your planet and found . . ." stumbled onto your planet and found . . ."

"And found the S'Cotar were organic manufactures-biofabs," said Sutherland. "Created beneath our moon by a possibly demented cyborg programmed thousands of years ago by your equally demented Empire."

"Yes," nodded S'Rel, "but don't forget why. To toughen us as a people, prepare us to face an invasion from another reality-an invasion of artificial intelligences-AIs-that happened once before, a million years ago, and was repulsed by the Trel."

"Even though defeated," said Sutherland, pointing a finger at the Watcher, "those machines killed the Trel and every living thing on all their worlds. And they'd have killed us, too, this last time, if D'Trelna hadn't stopped them at Terra Two."

"It's FleetOps opinion," said S'Rel, "that the end of the Terra Two incursion marked the end of any threat from the AIs. Our priority now is to purge our planets of any remaining S'Cotar and get on with the rebuilding of broken worlds and shattered lives."

"FleetOps is wrong," said the CIA director. "The Trel warned that the rift they sealed to the AI universe was opening now. The Terra Stephen Ames Berry-Two invasion was a fluke, maybe even a feint. The Fleet of the One is coming, S'Rel, through that rift, perhaps even right now. And what are you people doing?" His voice rose angrily. "You're doling out tea and comfort and congratulating each other on having survived the big green bugs when you should be mobilizing every ship that can mount a fusion battery!"

"Finished?" said the K'Ronarin as Sutherland caught his breath.

"What about D'Trelna?"

S'Rel shrugged. "He was sent to check out the Trel's invasion warning-into Quadrant Blue Nine, from which no ship has returned since the Fall. He hasn't been heard from. I doubt he ever will be."

There was a faint chirp, repeated three times. Frowning, the K'Ronarin took the slim communicator from his shirt pocket. "S'Rel," he said.

"Alert condition one," said a flat voice in K'Ronarin. "An AI battleglobe has just entered the Terran system."

"Close the portal!" said S'Rel.

"It didn't come from the portal," said the voice. "It came from our s.p.a.ce."

The battle klaxon brought Repulse's Repulse's Captain P'Qal from bed to bridge in record time, pausing only for a quick commlink call. Captain P'Qal from bed to bridge in record time, pausing only for a quick commlink call.

"Status?" he said, taking the command chair, eyes on the big board. Behind him the armored doors slid shut with a faint hiss.

"Target appeared at jump point a few moments ago," said S'Jat in her usual low, soft voice. She nodded at the board. "As you can see, it's headed insystem at just below light speed, and on present course, will reach here in nineteen point five t'lars."

"And pa.s.s right through," said P'Qal brusqely. The emergency wasn't improving his notoriously short temper. "She's not decelerating."

"As the captain will note," said S'Jat, unruffled, "what little data we have on AI battleglobes indicates that they can decelerate almost instantaneously."

"Absurd," said the captain. "A violation of every principle of astrogation and related physics."

"Perhaps we don't know everything about astrogation and physics," suggested the first officer.

They stared at each other, the short, bald man and the tall, thin brunette. "I'm not going to debate epistemology with you," said P'Qal. "I always lose." His eyes shifted to the tacscan data threading across the board. "Almost the size of Terra's moon," he said. "Highly manueverable, fusion batteries half the size of this ship, first-cla.s.s shielding." He looked up. "Suicide to take her on, Number One."

"Terra has no defenses," she said mildly. "You've alerted them?" She nodded. "Through our New York emba.s.sy."

"And FleetOps?"

"Knows nothing. The battleglobe took out our skipcomm relay the instant she entered the system."

"I see," he said, eyes going back to the board. The large red blip had pa.s.sed Saturn. "Where in all the h.e.l.ls did it come from?"

S'Jat shrugged. "The implications aren't pleasant."

P'Qal touched the commlink in his chairarm. "Get me Dawn Dawn-Captain S'Yatan. Battle priority alpha." He glanced again at the tacscan-the battleglobe was almost at Mars and showed no sign of slowing.

"Captain S'Yatan, sir," said the comm officer.

"Close the portal," P'Qal ordered the man whose image appeared in his commscreen.

"Already done," said the younger man. "But where did it come from?"

"Let's go ask her," said P'Qal. "Man your battlestations and follow us."

1. Artificial intelligences (AIs) exist. We have fought and defeated one of their advance units. More are coming.

2. These AIs are, as suspected, from a parallel reality where organic, carbon-based life is subservient to silicon-based life.

3. In a revolt against the AI Empire -called the Revolt by all sides-humans, a few hundred AIs and members of at least one other species escaped to this reality, moving uptime 900,000 years. Arriving 100,000 of our years ago, these revolutionaries founded our civilization, their humans intermarrying with humans indigenous to our galaxy. We are their descendants.

4. The AIs who came here still live among us, in human guise.

5. The AI Empire still exists. In a million years it has forgotten nothing and learned nothing. And it has found the means to come after us-one million battleglobes strong. Nothing we have can stand against it.

6. The AI Empire has succeeded in planting a fifth column among us. It is one of our princ.i.p.al industrial arms, Combine T'Lan. As of this communique, we have beaten off one of Combine T'Lan's task forces.

7. As my and Commodore DTrelna's commands have been declared corsair by FleetOps-one may guess at whose instigation-we have decided to become corsairs, in a limited sense. I have agreed to a limited raid on Combine T'Lan's headquarters-my ships will protect Implacable Implacable as she sends in a.s.sault boats. It is unlikely that any of my command will survive the action. as she sends in a.s.sault boats. It is unlikely that any of my command will survive the action.

Admiral Second S'Gan, loc. sit. (Final skipcomm received.)

3.

"So, YOU SLIME YOU SLIME have co-opted the Tower garrison," said D'Trelna, looking around the room. have co-opted the Tower garrison," said D'Trelna, looking around the room.

It was a small room, built to inspire fear: thick-mortared walls of ancient, hand-dressed stone, set deep beneath the Tower-an old Imperial interrogation cell furnished only with the traditional scarred gray table and folding chair.

"The Commandant of the Tower is sensitive to political winds, Commodore," said the man behind the table. "A talent you lack."

"You're Councilor D'a.s.san," said D'Trelna. "Of the Imperial Party."

The younger man nodded. "Actually, I'm Council Chair this term."

"And you had me arrested-illegally,"

D'Trelna snapped, feeling himself flush with anger.

D'a.s.san waved a well-manicured hand. "As Council Chair, I can hold almost anyone, pending investigation. Fleet Security actually made the arrest-your ship is corsair-listed, Commodore. You didn't think you were just going to flit in, have a drink with the lads and muster out, did you?"

"I'm a Fleet officer," said D'Trelna. "That's for Fleet to decide."

D'a.s.san held up a hand. "Soon, Commodore, soon. But first, I wanted us to have a quiet talk, just us two, all alone in this rocky womb, safe from spy beams and snooper probes."

D'Trelna nodded curtly. "Fine. What did you want to say, Councilor?"

"That you are a fool," said D'a.s.san mildly. "That you've been deceived by a very charming fellow named R'Gal into believing that our society is infiltrated by AIs seeking to destroy us. In fact, it is the AIs who've made us what we are-literally."

"Sc.u.m . . .!" growled D'Trelna, stepping toward the table, hands raised. "You know!"

"Please don't make me use this," said D'a.s.san, a palm-sized needier suddenly appearing in his hand. "You've no idea the number of reports your great mound of a body would require."

The commodore paused in mid-stride, fists clenched at his side. "You're one of them-a machine, a combat droid from Combine T'Lan."

D'a.s.san shook his head, "No. Just a man, trying to do something right for his people in the brief time I have, as a councilor and a man."

"Pretty," said D'Trelna. "You should be a politician."

"Back up, please, Commodore," said D'a.s.san, flicking the needier. He set the weapon on the table top as D'Trelna complied.

"Let me tell you something, Councilor . . ." began the commodore.

"No, sir," interrupted D'a.s.san. "Let me tell you what you're going to tell me, then I'll tell you why it's wrong." He swept on before D'Trelna could speak.

"You're going to tell me that you took your ship into Blue Nine, the Ghost Quadrant, and there battled machines and monsters and ancient nightmares out of our past, and against terrifying odds, you fought free and have come to warn us all." He nodded. "You're a brave and resourceful commander. My compliments, sir."

"Go to h.e.l.l."

"h.e.l.l is precisely where your warning would take us, D'Trelna," said D'a.s.san with a wry smile. "Artificial intelligences-AIs -built this civilization, working from within, guiding us through the long rise to the stars, helping us win the war against the S'Cotar . . ."

"Blood and steel won that war, D'a.s.san," said D'Trelna.

". . . and now you'd expose the presence of this helping hand to ma.s.s hysteria and mob violence-undo a millennia-old friend who's given everything and asked nothing in return."

The commodore stared at D'a.s.san for a long moment. "You are speaking of our preeminent industrial combine, Combine T'Lan?" he said carefully.

D'a.s.san nodded.

"Do I understand?" continued D'Trelna. "You believe the T'Lan AIs to be responsible for all that is good and great, the n.o.ble benefactors of we small creatures?" "Well, that's a bit of an exaggera-" "I don't know what sweet c.r.a.p you've been fed, Councilor, but the Combine T'Lan AIs are infiltrators from a parallel universe-a universe that has an AI empire ruling subjugated races such as ours. An empire against which a valiant few men and AIs revolted, lost, fled to this reality and founded this civilization, millennia ago. That Empire, Councillor, has sworn vengeance upon us. The T'Lan AIs are the vanguard of that vengeance that even now is sweeping down toward rift in the Ghost Quadrant-a rift guarded by a handful of mindslavers of dubious loyalty. The Fleet of the One is coming, Councilor D'a.s.san, and they won't leave until we're all dead." He paused, breathing hard.

"D'Trelna," said D'a.s.san after a moment, shaking his head, "it's the grand lie, grandly told.

"One of the greatest moments of my life, Commodore, was when Combine T'Lan selected me for training. Me, D'Trelna"-he touched his hand to his chest-"a slum kid from 8'Lag Two with nothing but a bleak future in some stagor mine ahead of him. They took me, they sent me to the best schools, trained me, groomed me for my career. And then, the ultimate trust, they revealed themselves to me, and explained everything."

D'a.s.san looked beyond D'Trelna for a moment, eyes shining with the beatific vision of that revelation. The look vanished and he waved a finger at D'Trelna.

"It's Combine T'Lan who are the outcasts, Commodore. It's your friend R'Gal who is of the old order-an infiltrator, a subvertor even now leading your friends to destruction."

That shook D'Trelna. "How do you know about R'Gal and ..."

"And the battleglobe they've 'captured'?" D'a.s.san smiled. "R'Gal's communications to his friends here are monitored."

D'Trelna shook his head. "Sweet c.r.a.p again, Councilor. Combine T'Lan undoubtedly's in touch with their home universe. It knows about the capture of the battleglobe."

"Fine." D'a.s.san seemed to have reached a decision. "My final argument. If I am the unknowing dupe of alien slime, why haven't I or they had you killed, Commodore? Why am I discussing this with you, civilized being to civilized being?"

D'Trelna thought about that for a moment. "Two reasons: one, a convert is always more useful than a corpse, and two, Captain My Lord H'Nar L'Wrona, Hereditary Lord Captain of the Imperial Guard and Margrave of U'Tria-my friend and your enemy. A strong and influential man whom you'd use me to weaken-if I bought your 'grand lie, grandly told.'" He folded his arms and waited impa.s.sively.

D'a.s.san stood, expressionless. "We won't be seeing each other again, Commodore," he said, touching the door signal set in the wall.

D'Trelna didn't turn as the thick slab of gray battlesteel slid open-not until he saw amazement and consternation cross D'a.s.san's face. "Admiral L'Guan," said the councilor, recovering with a warm smile. "An honor."

The Grand Admiral of the Fleet stepped into the room. He was an impressive figure, from his silver mane of perfectly coiffeured hair to the soles of his gleaming handmade boots-elegant in brown and gold uniform, twin comets of silver on his collar. Ignoring D'Trelna, he smiled at D'a.s.san, nodding. "Councilor."

"To what do I owe . . ."

"The pleasure?" said L'Guan. "Well, I was here to see Commandant W'Tal off to his new posting ..."

"You've replaced the Commandant?" said D'a.s.san uneasily.

"Why, yes. Promoted to Admiral Second and posted to Red Seven Quadrant-we've still got a corsair problem out there."

"He'll be delighted, I'm sure," murmured D'a.s.san. "I believe the corsair problem has claimed Red Seven's last five senior field officers."

"While talking with W'Tal," continued the admiral, "I was advised that not only had Implacable Implacable been captured, but that DTrelna was being held on Council warrant pending transfer to Fleet. So I'm here to take him in tow." Reaching into his tunic, he removed a folded piece of paper. been captured, but that DTrelna was being held on Council warrant pending transfer to Fleet. So I'm here to take him in tow." Reaching into his tunic, he removed a folded piece of paper.

D'a.s.san read the transfer receipt. "All in order and still warm from the printer," he said, folding the doc.u.ment and tucking it away. "You work quickly, Admiral." He took a communicator from his pocket. "I'll ask the commandant to give you an escort."

L'Guan placed a firm hand on the other's wrist, forcing hand and communicator to the table top. "Not to worry, Councilor. I have a battalion of commandos with me." As if on cue, two black-and-silver-uniformed commando officers appeared in the doorway.

"Then I'll be going," said D'a.s.san. "Good day. Admiral."

"Good day, Councilor," said L'Guan.

The admiral and the two officers stepped aside as D'a.s.san left.

"Bring the prisoner to the commandant's office," ordered L'Guan. Not looking at D'Trelna, he left the room.

D'Trelna and the two officers fell in behind L'Guan, footsteps echoing in time down the long gray pa.s.sageways of the Tower.

"s.p.a.ceport," said the cabdriver.

L'Wrona looked up from his notes. The lights of K'Ronarport filled the right window. "Drop me at facility thirty-eight, please."

The cabbie's eyes flicked to the pa.s.senger monitor, rea.s.sessing his fare. Facility 38 was the private docking area, reserved for the s.p.a.ce yachts. Only the heads of industrial combines and the wealthiest members of the old aristocracy could afford even the smallest of starships and their upkeep. A Fleet captain's annual pay would cover about a quarter of the monthly maintenance fee on a one-man flitter.

"You own or just leasing, sir?" said the driver, bringing the craft in on the roof of facility 38.