Lieutenant Tyzel stared up at him nervously. "Checking the data feeds now," said Karzis, information flickering at terrifying speed across his ocular implants.
"The Tapiola seems to have burst into flames and crashed," said Stannark. "That was not what we expected. True, it is adequately gratifying, but it is not what was in the plan."
"Processing," said Karzis. "Lieutenant. Replay sensor logs between A-220 and C-271, ten per cent speed."
While Tyzel tapped out commands rapidly on the console, Stannark strode up and down the bridge, the deckplates creaking beneath his weight. He looked, from time to time, at the main viewscreen. The spire looked no different, but, just visible near one of its massive legs, there was a faint streak of darkness - the trail of black smoke left by the Tapiola as she crashed.
"Processing complete," said Karzis. His ocular implants settled back to a blank blue-green.
"Well?" Stannark demanded.
"The bad news is, they had a defence," Karzis said dryly. "The good news is, it does not work.... Some particle conversion system aboard the Tapiola, probably a holdover from the basic Tholian design. It intercepted and absorbed the tetryonic pulse, but was catastrophically overloaded in the process. The results rather speak for themselves."
"What of the Tempest and the primate Fallon?"
"Events, there, proceeded according to plan. The biolytic field pervaded the whole of the ship."
"There are no life signs," Tyzel added. "But, sir -"
"Shall we destroy the hulk of the Tempest?" Karzis asked, his voice cutting across the junior officer's.
"Let me think.... No, not for the moment. The Circles of Science may wish to examine it later, to see the final effect of the biolytic field. And it may serve as a stark message to any other approaching mammals - do not interfere with our plans, or this is what will happen. What is the final situation of the Tapiola, though? Is there any potential threat?"
"The ship has crashed into a body of water. Our scans indicate massive damage, complete power loss... the crew is evidently in the process of evacuation. A single volley from our beam banks might destroy the wreck, or wipe out the survivors -"
"No," said Stannark, "no, it is... unnecessary. And inaesthetic."
There seemed to be a frown on the intelligence officer's dark face. "Inaesthetic?"
"The wreck of the Tapiola, too, is a fitting monument to our power. As for the crew - the normal hazards of the sphere will account for them, as they begin their very long walk back to the mammal-occupied territories. If there are survivors, they will have a miserable tale to tell. No, no, we have done enough. To show our superiority, to extinguish our opponents."
"The third ship still remains, though," Tyzel pointed out. "And, sir -"
"The Timor is not important," said Stannark. "We will deal with it and its absurd commander in due course, when we occupy the interior of the spire. Karzis, you and I will discuss our plans for that, now, in my ready room." Stannark turned and strode away.
As Karzis made to follow, Tyzel plucked nervously at his sleeve. The intelligence officer span around, his face forbidding. "What is it?"
"Sir," said Tyzel, "I think it is significant - my sensor logs show - sir, there was something that looked like a transporter signature. From the Tempest, and after the tetryon pulse."
"You think to bother the commander with this?" Karzis glowered down at the cringing lieutenant.
"Sir, it may be -"
"It may be nothing," Karzis snapped. "A sensor error, a false reading. Or perhaps some automated system engaged, to send away a recorder marker. I noted the same detail, Lieutenant. You may rest assured that nothing escapes my notice."
"But, sir, it might be -"
"No," said Karzis, "it might not. Were there life signs on the Tempest when this reading was detected?" Tyzel shook his head. "Well, then. It cannot have been a survivor, can it? It must be some error, or some random mechanical action, and it is of no importance. Do not bother your superiors with it again." Karzis turned and stalked off towards the ready room.
---
"No," Dyegh whispered, and then he screeched, "No!", a loud high-pitched wail which woke echoes from the domed ceiling of the console room.
Siffaith watched, aghast, as Dyegh ran from one console to another, his claws pounding furiously on the glowing icons, his shouts of anger degenerating into an incoherent series of clicks and rattles.
"What is it?" he asked. "Dyegh, what is wrong?"
"A thousand hours of work!" Dyegh shrieked. "They have undone it all - the primary capacitance banks are drained, my power reserves are gone - the settings for the emitter grid, they have been scrambled -" He slammed his claws down hard on the console. "I have to do it all over again! Those fools! Those vandals!" He sank to his knees on the rippling surface of the force-field floor.
"Dyegh." Siffaith went to his friend, lifted him back to his feet. "It is a blow, I can see that. But we must see what is to be done, now."
"Take the console," Dyegh said, waving one claw in a gesture of despair. "See what you can salvage - I cannot face this -" He turned and staggered off, towards his little nest of fabric by the wall.
Siffaith sighed quietly to himself. He studied the console display. He had been watching Dyegh for some time, now, and asking questions whenever he dared - and he had been working, too, with the teachers. His knowledge was growing in leaps and bounds. He reached out and touched the console interface, cautiously at first, then entering commands with gradually increasing speed and confidence.
"The new gods," he said. "They interfered."
From his nest, Dyegh wailed, "I know!"
"But how did they interfere?" Siffaith asked. "If we know how they did it, we might stop them doing so in future...." He turned to another section of the console, started to call up the system's logs.
"Computer intrusion," he muttered to himself. "They have some of our system command codes... not all, they cannot have them all, or this console would be locked out...." His claws rattled on the interface. "Two different classes of intrusion. It makes sense - the new gods fight among themselves...."
He hunched over the console, his eyes intent. "Four vessels. Three moved in concert, the fourth approached from an entirely different vector... and it is attempting to conceal itself with false readings. One of the three sent messages... standard access codes, opening doors, and... hmm. Data transmissions, declarations of peaceful intent, offers of friendship, even. But are such offers to be trusted? They are warlike, we have seen them fighting. But the other...."
He worked for some time in silence, then straightened his back, and went to where Dyegh sat.
"I need some control codes for the main computer," he said.
Dyegh stared up at him. "What codes? Why?"
"Security," said Siffaith. "One group of new gods - one faction within them - sent pre-empt commands into the systems of the Home. They overrode your configuration files, they triggered the capacitance banks and expended the stored energy. I believe we can instruct the Home to prevent them from doing this again - but it requires access to the central security system, and I do not have the control codes for that. Do you know them? And, if so, can you let me have them?"
"I... see," said Dyegh. He rose to his feet, slowly, stiffly. His body was still trembling - even through his robe, Siffaith could see that. "I - When I first accessed the computer core, there were - certain options. Backups and defaults - the original operators have been dead for an immeasurable time. I became registered, automatically and by default, as an authorised user." He started to make his way to the console. "I can add you to the list of authorised persons. It will be no trouble. If you think you can help -"
"I do," said Siffaith firmly. "The intrusion of the new gods has created problems - I can see that. I can see, too, the measures we can take... to make sure they do not trouble us again."
No comments:
Post a Comment