The Armageddon Inheritance

Chernikov did some more cable-dragging and, after propitiating Murphy with a few curses, brought it alive. Light bathed Central Engineering, and the two engineers began to explore.

The long-dead core tap drew them like a magnet, and Chernikov felt a tingle of awe as his eyes and implants traced circuit runs and control systems. This thing was at least five times as powerful as Dahak’s, and he wouldn’t have believed it could be without seeing it. But what in the galaxy could they have needed that much power for? Even allowing for the more powerful energy armament and shield, there had to be some other reason—

His thoughts died as his implants followed a massive power shunt which shouldn’t have been there. He clambered over a control panel which had become the floor, slightly vertiginous as he tried to orient himself, then gasped.

“Baltan! Look at this!”

“I know,” his assistant said softly, approaching from the far side. “I’ve been following the control runs.”

“Can you believe this?”

“Does it matter? And it would certainly explain all the power demand.”

“True.” Chernikov moved a few more yards, examining his find carefully, then shook his head. “I must tell the Captain about this.”

He keyed his com implant, and Colin answered a moment later, sounding a bit harassed—not surprisingly, considering that every other search party must be finding marvels of its own to report.

“Captain, I am in Mairsuk’s Central Engineering, and you would not believe what I am looking at.”

“Try me,” Colin said wearily. “I’m learning to believe nineteen impossible things before breakfast every day.”

“Very well, here is number twenty. This ship has both Enchanach and hyper capability.”

There was a pregnant pause.

“What,” Colin finally asked very carefully, “did you say?”

“I said, sir, that we have here both an Enchanach and a hyper drive, engineered down to a size that fits both into a single hull. I am not yet positive, but I would judge that the combined mass of both units is less than that of Dahak’s Enchanach Drive, alone.”

“Great day in the morning,” Colin muttered. Then, “All right. Take a good look, then get back over here. We’re having an all-departments meeting in four hours to discuss plans for reactivation.

“Understood,” Chernikov said, and broke the connection. He and Baltan exchanged eloquent shrugs and bent back to the study of their prize.

”…can’t be specific until we’ve got the computers back up and run a complete inventory,” Geran said, “but about ten percent of all spares required controlled condition storage. Without that—” He shrugged.

Most of Colin’s department heads were present in the flesh, but a sizable force from the recon group was prowling around other installations, and Hector MacMahan and Ninhursag attended via holo image from the battleship Osir’s command deck. Now all eyes, physical and holographic alike, swiveled to Colin.

“All right.” He spoke quietly, leaning his forearms on the crystalline tabletop to return their gazes. “Bottom line. Mother’s time estimate is based on sixteen-hour shifts for every man and woman after we put at least one automated repair yard back on line. According to the reports from Hector’s people, we can probably do that, but I expect to find ourselves pushing closer to twenty-hour shifts by the time we’re done. We could increase the odds and decrease the workload by concentrating on a dozen or so units. I’m sure that’s going to occur to a lot of people in the next few weeks. However—” his eyes circled their faces “—we aren’t going to do it that way. We need as many of these ships as we can get, and, ladies and gentlemen, I mean to have every single one of them.”

There was a sound like a soft gasp, and he smiled grimly.

“God only knows how hard they’re working back on Earth, but we’re about to make up for our nice vacation on the trip out. Every one of them, people. No exceptions. We will leave this system no later than five months from today, and the entire Imperial Guard Flotilla will go with us when we do.”

“But, sir,” Chernikov said, “we may ask for too much and lose it all. I do not fear hard work, but we have only a finite supply of personnel. A very finite supply.”

“I understand, Vlad, but the decision is not negotiable. We’ve got highly motivated, highly capable people aboard this ship. I feel certain they’ll understand and give of their very best. If not, however, tell them this.

“I’ll be working my ass off right beside them, but that doesn’t mean I won’t be keeping tabs on what they’re doing. And, people, if I catch anyone shirking, I’m going to be the worst nightmare he ever had.”

His smile was grim, but even its micrometric amusement looked out of place on his rock-hard face.

“Tell them they can depend on that,” he finished very, very softly.

Book Two

Chapter Fourteen

Assistant Servant of Thunders Brashieel of the Nest of Aku’Ultan folded all four legs under him on his duty pad as he bent his long-snouted head, considering his panel, and slid both hands into the control gloves. Eight fingers and four thumbs twitched, activating each test circuit in turn, and he noted the results cheerfully. He had not had a major malfunction in three twelves of twelve watches.

Equipment tests completed, he checked Vindicator’s position. It was purely automatic, for there could be no change. Once a vessel entered hyper space it remained there, impotent but inviolate, until it reached the pre-selected coordinates and emerged into normal space once more.

Brashieel did not understand those mysteries particularly well, for he was no lord—not even of thunders, much less of star-faring—but because Small Lord of Order Hantorg was a good lord, he had made certain Vindicator’s nestlings all knew whither they were bound. Another yellow sun, this one with nine planets. Once it had boasted ten, but that had been before the visit of Great Lord Vaskeel’s fleet untold high twelves of years before. Now it was time to return, and Vindicator and his brothers would sweep through it like the Breath of Tarhish, trampling the nest-killers under hooves of flame.

It was well. The Protectors of the Nest would feed their foes to Tarhish’s Fire, and the Nest would be safe forever.

“Outer perimeter tracking confirms hyper wakes approaching from galactic east,” Sir Frederick Amesbury said.

Gerald Hatcher nodded without even looking up. His neural feed hummed with readiness reports, and his eyes were unfocused.

“Got an emergence locus and ETA, Frederick?”

“It’s bloody rough, but Plotting’s calling it fifty light-minutes and forty-five degrees above the ecliptic. Judging from the wake strength, the buggers should be arriving in about twelve hours. Tracking promises to firm that up in the next two hours.”

“Fine.” Hatcher acknowledged the last report and blinked back into focus, wishing yet again that Dahak had returned. If Colin MacIntyre had been gone this long, it meant he hadn’t found aid at Sheskar and must have decided he had no choice but to hope Earth could hold without him while he sought it