"that I'd be confined to quarters half the watch, filling out moronic reports ..."
Implacable'* captain smiled. "You're only happy when the battle klaxon's banging away, J'Quel.
"How's Harrison doing?" he asked, changing the subject.
"Better." DTrelna stared at the complink, not really seeing it. "Sick Bay says his new heart's holding. They'll be waking him up soon."
"When can we debrief him?"
"Two days, local."
L'Wrona rose, walking to the armor glass. He stood looking at the V'Tran's Glory for a moment, then turned to DTrelna. "We don't know what happened on Terra Two yet. That bothers me, J'Quel."
"Guan-Sharick told Sutherland the portal's gone, H'Nar.
That'll have to do for now. Medical won't bring him out of it until regeneration's over."
"I hate taking that bug's word for anything."
"Only for now, H'Nar. Only for now.
"Computer, resume."
"Resuming," said the too-perfect voice. "State composition and current tactical deployment of task force and reason for such deployment.''
"Computer, just copy the last entry under this category and change date to current."
"Illegal command."
D'Trelna's face flushed dangerously. "Computer, nothing has changed since the previous entry. Copy the previous entry."
"All entries of this nature must be original."
D'Trelna reached for the large crystal water carafe.
"Damaging a remote terminal will not injure main computer," said computer. It had lost five other screens beneath the same hairy hand before discovering that disingenuous sentence.
"Blood pressure, J'Quel," warned L'Wrona. "Blood pressure."
"Very well." The carafe returned to the desktop. "Composition of force: two vessels. The L'Aal-class battle cruiser Implacable, Captain Lord Captain H'Nar L'Wrona, Margrave of U'Tria, commanding. And the S'Rin-class destroyer V'Tran's Glory, Captain H'Tan S'Tur commanding. Both warships are in geosynchronous orbit one hundred and seventeen standard units above the planet Terra. Task force is awaiting Fleet reevaluation of original mission versus current situation, planet Terra. See previous reports. Terra Two, cross references Shalan-Actal, Guan-Sharick and John Harrison, file number . . .
"Computer, will you condescend to insert the reference number?"
"Of course, Commodore."
"Thank you. End and file."
"Filed." The screen blanked, quickly folding back into the comparative safety of the desktop.
D' Trelna shook his head. "I really hate that machine."
"It's only a machine, J'Quel—it's not malevolent."
"Maybe." D'Trelna sat up, opening the top drawer of his desk. "Let's talk about malevolent machinery." He held out the golden triangle. "Here."
L'Wrona took it, looking at the device set into the metal: silver starship against a gold sun, a blue eye in each corner of the triangle.
"Early Empire," said L'Wrona, holding it up to the light. "Fourth Dynasty at the most. And beautifully detailed—the eyes are uncanny." He set it on the desktop.
"Under magnification, those eyes have a retina pattern— the same retina pattern."
"Interesting. Where'd you get it?"
"Harrison brought it back from Terra Two."
L'Wrona's eyes widened. "How . . . ?"
"How, indeed?"
"T'ata?"
"No, thank you."
D'Trelna tapped out a command, then took a steaming cup of brown liquid from the desk beverager.
"Harrison was briefly conscious on the way to the hospital. He gave that triangle to McShane—taken from a destroyed killer machine." The commodore sipped his tea.
"You ran it?"
D'Trelna nodded, setting down the t'ata. "You were close, H'Nar. Third Dynasty—the House of D'Lan."
The captain sat down on the chair. "Gods. The Machine Wars."
"Correct. The Empire built self-replicating, self-improving helpers. Said helpers decided man was obsolete. Man thought otherwise. Empire tottered, Fleet reeled, Emperor and dynasty fell—but machines were wiped out."
"Then these aren't the machines Pocsym warned against— they can't be," said L'Wrona. "Those machines predated man by
Implacable'* captain smiled. "You're only happy when the battle klaxon's banging away, J'Quel.
"How's Harrison doing?" he asked, changing the subject.
"Better." DTrelna stared at the complink, not really seeing it. "Sick Bay says his new heart's holding. They'll be waking him up soon."
"When can we debrief him?"
"Two days, local."
L'Wrona rose, walking to the armor glass. He stood looking at the V'Tran's Glory for a moment, then turned to DTrelna. "We don't know what happened on Terra Two yet. That bothers me, J'Quel."
"Guan-Sharick told Sutherland the portal's gone, H'Nar.
That'll have to do for now. Medical won't bring him out of it until regeneration's over."
"I hate taking that bug's word for anything."
"Only for now, H'Nar. Only for now.
"Computer, resume."
"Resuming," said the too-perfect voice. "State composition and current tactical deployment of task force and reason for such deployment.''
"Computer, just copy the last entry under this category and change date to current."
"Illegal command."
D'Trelna's face flushed dangerously. "Computer, nothing has changed since the previous entry. Copy the previous entry."
"All entries of this nature must be original."
D'Trelna reached for the large crystal water carafe.
"Damaging a remote terminal will not injure main computer," said computer. It had lost five other screens beneath the same hairy hand before discovering that disingenuous sentence.
"Blood pressure, J'Quel," warned L'Wrona. "Blood pressure."
"Very well." The carafe returned to the desktop. "Composition of force: two vessels. The L'Aal-class battle cruiser Implacable, Captain Lord Captain H'Nar L'Wrona, Margrave of U'Tria, commanding. And the S'Rin-class destroyer V'Tran's Glory, Captain H'Tan S'Tur commanding. Both warships are in geosynchronous orbit one hundred and seventeen standard units above the planet Terra. Task force is awaiting Fleet reevaluation of original mission versus current situation, planet Terra. See previous reports. Terra Two, cross references Shalan-Actal, Guan-Sharick and John Harrison, file number . . .
"Computer, will you condescend to insert the reference number?"
"Of course, Commodore."
"Thank you. End and file."
"Filed." The screen blanked, quickly folding back into the comparative safety of the desktop.
D' Trelna shook his head. "I really hate that machine."
"It's only a machine, J'Quel—it's not malevolent."
"Maybe." D'Trelna sat up, opening the top drawer of his desk. "Let's talk about malevolent machinery." He held out the golden triangle. "Here."
L'Wrona took it, looking at the device set into the metal: silver starship against a gold sun, a blue eye in each corner of the triangle.
"Early Empire," said L'Wrona, holding it up to the light. "Fourth Dynasty at the most. And beautifully detailed—the eyes are uncanny." He set it on the desktop.
"Under magnification, those eyes have a retina pattern— the same retina pattern."
"Interesting. Where'd you get it?"
"Harrison brought it back from Terra Two."
L'Wrona's eyes widened. "How . . . ?"
"How, indeed?"
"T'ata?"
"No, thank you."
D'Trelna tapped out a command, then took a steaming cup of brown liquid from the desk beverager.
"Harrison was briefly conscious on the way to the hospital. He gave that triangle to McShane—taken from a destroyed killer machine." The commodore sipped his tea.
"You ran it?"
D'Trelna nodded, setting down the t'ata. "You were close, H'Nar. Third Dynasty—the House of D'Lan."
The captain sat down on the chair. "Gods. The Machine Wars."
"Correct. The Empire built self-replicating, self-improving helpers. Said helpers decided man was obsolete. Man thought otherwise. Empire tottered, Fleet reeled, Emperor and dynasty fell—but machines were wiped out."
"Then these aren't the machines Pocsym warned against— they can't be," said L'Wrona. "Those machines predated man by
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