Nobody asked, “Which transport?” because there was only one that mattered. Boone checked a screen. “The Thraki allowed Henry to pass through their fighter screen—and he’s two or three minutes from touchdown.” His eyes flicked to a digital readout. “And a good thing too—since the nukes are due to detonate in about five minutes.”
Booly nodded. “Send a signal—stop the clock.”
A corn tech stood to get their attention. “Grand Admiral Andragna on corn channel four.”
Booly heaved a sigh of relief. “Thank god, put him on.”
A holo blossomed over the main tank. Andragna looked calm and relaxed. There was an almost unnoticeable delay while his words were translated. “Greetings, General Booly ... how can I be of service?”
Booly looked into alien eyes and tried to force a connection. “The Hoon has been deactivated—and the Sheen have switched to standby. There is no reason to launch the twins.”
Andragna’s ears turned forward. “Don’t be fooled by their tricks. We know the Sheen in a way that no one else can. The machines have pursued us for hundreds of years. Thousands upon thousands of Thraki have died. This is our chance, perhaps our lost chance, to achieve lasting freedom. We have the means to destroy them, and we will do so.”
“But what of our ships?” Booly demanded. “And the Araballazanies? The twins could sterilize the surface of their planet.”
Andragna produced a human-style shrug. “We don’t believe that will occur—but feel there is little choice. There is nothing more to say—may the gods protect us all.”
The holo snapped to black.
Everyone turned to Booly. His face was drawn. “Send the signal... restart the clock.”
In spite of the fact that the seconds were ticking away and that two nuclear warheads were going to detonate within twenty feet of its processor, Henry was a navcomp, and that meant the landing had to be as perfect as the AI could possibly make it, that the power had to be shut down, that... Not far away, within the battleship’s control room, the landing was noted. An officer droned through the list.
‘Transport down ... launch bay sealed ... weapons systems ready.”
Andragna thought of his wife and things never said.
Would he get to say them? Only the gods knew for sure.
He looked up. “Prepare launcher 12 ... fire.”
The nuclear warheads detonated together. The battleship Will of the Gods along with its entire crew, and both “the twins,” ceased to exist. There was no secondary explosion, no outpouring of ravening energy, no wave of cataclysmic destruction.
Thousands of miles away on the Friendship’s bridge, Booly watched a pinprick of light wink on, then off. Here one moment, gone the next. Just like life itself. His voice sounded hoarse. “Send a message to the Thraki fleet: “The Sheen have been neutralized. There is no need for war.’ “
But there was war—though a mercifully short one. Frightened by the sudden destruction of their flagship and certain that the Sheen were responsible, the Thraki attacked. More than fifty of the now passive Sheen warships perished in less than fifteen minutes. Not one of them fired a shot in response. Finally, having realized that what the Confederacy said was true, the Thraki called a halt. The battle, such as it was, had ended.
Many months would be spent dealing with issues related to the Thraki settlements on Zynig47, Hudathan demands for increased autonomy, and the disposition of the Sheen. A rather rich prize that almost everyone thought should belong to them.
But those were concerns for politicians, bureaucrats, and to a lesser extent soldiers to deal with. Not the sort of things that a there navcomp had to concern itself with.
That being the case, it was relatively easy for Henry to give a deposition, petition for its freedom, and find a job.
The decision had been made to backtrack along the route followed by the Sheen. The objective of the mission was to hunt for Sheen scouts, some of which could have survived, and assist any colonies that might have been attacked. President Nankool himself had authorized Henry to ride the first ship out—which was all a navcomp could possibly wish for.
The AI lined up on the outgoing transit point, waited for permission, and sent the appropriate command. The heavily armed survey vesselLivingston seemed to wink from existence. The stars swam in silence.
