The Armageddon Inheritance

the list. You are my oldest friend, Colin. I do not wish you to risk your life unnecessarily.”

The computer did not often express his human feelings so frankly, and Colin swallowed unexpected emotion.

“I’m not too crazy about it myself, but I think it is necessary. Forget for a moment that we’re friends and tell me what the percentages say to do.”

There was a moment of silence—a very long moment for Dahak.

“Put that way, Colin,” he said at last, “I must concur. Your presence in Command One will increase the probability of victory by several orders.”

Jiltanith sagged, and Colin touched her hand gently in apology. She tried to smile, but her eyes were stricken, and he knew she knew. He’d ordered Dahak not to share his projection of their chance of survival with her, but she knew anyway.

“Wait.” Chernikov’s thoughtful murmur pulled all attention back to him. “We have the time and materials; let us install a mat-trans aboard Dahak.”

“A mat-trans? But that couldn’t—”

“A moment, Colin.” Dahak sounded far more cheerful. “I believe this suggestion has merit. Senior Fleet Captain Chernikov, do I correctly apprehend that you intend to install additional mat-trans stations aboard each of our crewed warships?”

“I do.”

“But the relativity aspects would make it impossible,” Colin protested. “The stations have to be synchronized.”

“Not so finely as you may believe,” Dahak said. “In practice, it would simply require that the receiving ship maintain approximately the same relativistic time. Given the number of crewed vessels available to us, it might well prove possible to select an appropriate unit. I could then transmit you to that unit in the event that Dahak’s destruction becomes probable.”

“I don’t like the idea of running away,” Colin muttered rebelliously.

“Now thou’rt childish, my Colin,” Jiltanith said firmly. “Thou knowest how feel we all towards Dahak, yet thy presence will not halt the missile or beam which would destroy him. How shall thy death make his less dreadful?”

“Her Majesty is correct,” Dahak said, equally firmly. “You would not refuse to evacuate via lifeboat, and there is little difference, except in that your chances of survival are many orders of probability higher via mat-trans. Please, Colin. I would feel much better if you would agree.”

Colin was stubbornly silent. Of course it was illogical, but that was part of the definition of friendship. Yet they were right. It was only the premeditation of the means whereby he would desert his friend that bothered him.

“All right,” he sighed at last. “I don’t like it, but … do it, Vlad.”

Chapter Twenty-Four

The dot of Zeta Trianguli Australis burned unchanged, for the fury of its death had not yet crossed the light-years.

Senior Fleet Captain Sarah Meir, promoted when Colin evicted Dahak’s crew, sat on the planetoid Ashar’s command deck and frowned as she watched it, recalling the dark, hopeless years when she and her Terra-born fellows had fought with Nergal’s Imperials against Anu’s butchers. There was no comparison between then and now … except that the days were dark once more and hope was scarce.

Scarce, but not vanished, she reminded herself, and if Colin’s reckless battle plan shocked her, it was its very audacity which gave them a hope of victory. That, and the quality of their ships and handful of crews.

And Dahak. It always came back to Dahak, but, then, it always had. He’d stood sponsor for them all, Earth’s inheritance from the Imperium on this eve of Armageddon. It might be atavistic of her, but Dahak was their totem, and—

“Captain, we have an inbound hyper wake. A big one,” her plotting officer said, and adrenalin flushed through her system.

“Nail it down,” she said, “and fire up the hypercom.” Acknowledgments came back, and she called up Engineering. “Stand by for Enchanach Drive.”

“Yes, ma’am. Core tap nominal. We’re ready to move.”

“Stand by.” She looked back up at Plotting. “Well?”

“We’ve got an emergence, ma’am. Ninety-eight hours, about a light-month short of the vanguard’s emergence locus.”

Sarah frowned. Damned if she would’ve hypered in this close to the “monster nest-killers” the vanguard must have reported! Still, with their piddling communication range, they had to come in fairly close … and a light-month gave them plenty of time to hyper out if bad guys came at them.

Usually, she thought coldly, but not this time. Oh, no. Not this time.

“Communications, inform the flagship. Maneuvering, head for the rendezvous, but take us on a dog-leg. I want a cross-bearing on this wake.”

Stars streamed across the display, and she relaxed. In another four days the uncertainty would end … one way or another.

Great Lord of Order Hothan twiddled all four thumbs as he replayed Sorkar’s messages yet again. Hothan was small for a Protector, quick-moving and keen-witted. Indeed, he had been severely disciplined as a fledgling for near-deviant inquisitiveness and almost denied his lordship for questioning what he perceived as inefficiencies in the Nest’s starships. Yet even Battle Comp agreed that those very faults made him an excellent strategist and tactician, and they had helped Great Lord Tharno select him for this duty.

Yet Sorkar’s reports made him more than simply curious. There was a near-hysterical edge to them, most unlike his old nestmate. But, then, this was the Demon Sector, and Sorkar always had been a bit superstitious.

“Emergence confirmed and plotted,” Dahak announced. “Margin of error point-zero-zero-zero-zero-two- nine percent.”

Colin grunted and ran down his mental list one last time. Dahak was at eighty- six percent efficiency; his other ships were all at ninety or above. All magazines were topped up, and transferring Dahak’s skeleton crew to Ashar had given them sixteen autonomous units once more. They were as ready as they could get, he thought, deliberately not looking at the hastily-installed mat-trans which had replaced the tactical officer’s couch and console.

“All right, Dahak, saddle up. Get the minelayers moving.”

“Acknowledged.” The unmanned colliers moved out, accompanied by Dahak and his bevy of lobotomized geniuses, loafing along under Enchanach Drive at sixty times light-speed. They weren’t in that great a hurry.

The colliers reached their stations and paused, adjusting their formation delicately before they began to move once more, now at sublight speeds.

The brevity of the first clash with the vanguard, coupled with the ships lost at Zeta Trianguli, meant Colin had more spare missiles than planned. He rather regretted that—though he would have regretted depleted magazines more—for each missile was three or four less mines his colliers could lift. Still, they had lots of the nasty little buggers, and he watched them spill out as the colliers swept across the Achuultani’s emergence area at forty percent of light-speed.

He bared his teeth. Mines were seldom used outside star systems, for it was impossible to guess where an enemy might come out between stars. But this time he didn’t have to guess; he knew, and the Achuultani weren’t going to like it a bit.