Wing Commander #07 False Color

by William R. Forstchen

  Bondarevsky didn't respond right away. His eyes were on Tolwyn's shadowy figure, but he was focused on something infinitely farther away . . . Terra.

  All the arguments against proceeding with Goliath were still there. It would be dangerous even to complete the survey, much less to attempt to disarm the self-destruct system so they could start repairs on the Karga. And the job was going to be even bigger than they had supposed, given what they had seen so far. Just understanding enough of the Kilrathi design philosophy to know how to attempt those repairs was going to be murder . . .

  An idea stirred.

  "Maybe there's a way we can balance out the odds against us," he said slowly. "Maybe . . ."

  "What do you have in mind?" Tolwyn asked, his interest clearly piqued.

  "I just realized, sir, that we have access to a collection of genuine experts on Kilrathi ship design. They might be able to help us disarm that destruct system . . . and they could certainly help us with the repair job."

  "The Kilrathi you picked up from the planet? Why should they work for our side?"

  He thought back to his conversation with Graham and Murragh, and smiled. "Maybe this time, Admiral, it's us who'll be joining their side for a change."

  "Go to it, then," Tolwyn said with a smile.

  Saluting, Jason withdrew and Geoff turned his chair, the darkness enveloping him. There was so much more he could have told Jason; the fact that he had engaged in half-truths with a fighting officer he respected more than any other who had ever served under him was troubling. There was part of him that wanted to pull Jason all the way in, to reveal all about the Genetic Enhancements program that was the conspiracy within a conspiracy but he knew that Jason was too much of a straight arrow for that.

  Tragic, so damn tragic, that in order to save what we love we so often have to destroy it. It was warriors like Jason who had ensured that the Confederation survived when so many others had given up hope, or worst yet would knowingly destroy it for their ambitions yet what I contemplate will most likely be resisted by ones like Jason.

  Is this my own ambition, my own vanity, Geoff wondered. It was a troubling thought. There was the constant gnawing strain that the G.E. project, the virus hidden within the bacteria of Belisarius, was perhaps the greatest moral outrage of all. Yet there was no longer an alternative. That was the hidden truth Whittaker had revealed in their meeting, a truth which he had kept from Jason. Belisarius was simply the Trojan Horse that would be destroyed, and then the real plan would be hatched.

  And the Landreich, all the Border World systems. That was the conflict to come against either the Confed or the Cats, which would be the platform for the G.E. project to be unleashed. That was why this carrier had to be saved, to provide the nucleus of an effective resistance so that the wheels within wheels would later turn.

  Geoff sighed and, reaching under his chair, he took the bottle which he had hidden when Jason had come in. Taking a long drink he stared off, wondering. I know Jason would say no if he knew all the truth. Does that tell me something? An inner voice whispered the warning that indeed, if Jason did reject it, his rejection meant it was wrong. And if it is wrong for him then is it for me? God, why am I doing this? He thought of the new ones who even now were secretly in training, pilots like Seether. Seether, what would Jason think of him, this new generation, this new breed of Overman which I am helping to create.

  Overman—strange, Whittaker had told me to read Nietzsche to find the hidden truth of the program. I did and I believed in spite of my moral outrage. That was the trouble, you could be outraged yet there was a terrifying logic to Nietzsche that could not be denied. The only answer to the logic of Nietzsche was the logic of a higher order of good that transcended his frightful world view. Thirty-five years of war in this universe had all but burned out the last idealistic dream of a higher order of good. There was, he feared, only one answer left—that if we are to survive in this universe we must be the Overman.

  For beyond the Cats there were other enemies, far more terrifying, far more powerful and implacable. And if the Cats could come within a hairsbreadth of destroying us, what did that bode for humanity a hundred years from now? For surely they were coming and most assuredly we would be destroyed.

  There was only one answer left, he feared, the answer of Nietzsche, of Whittaker, of G.E., of Seether. And I know I should have moral outrage, but that is gone, he thought sadly. That must be buried if we are to survive. He closed his eyes and drained the rest of the bottle.

  CHAPTER 10

  "Glory is the outward measure of the Warrior's worth, but the knowledge of a duty fulfilled is the one true inward measure."

  from the Fourth Codex

  04:18:31

  Operations Planning Center, FRLS Independence

  Orbiting Vaku VII, Vaku System

  1108 hours (CST), 2670.317

  "I want to be perfectly clear on this, Lord Murragh. Are you saying you can't help us, or you won't?"

  Bondarevsky could see the strain in Admiral Richards' face as he asked the question. After a hard evening's discussions between Tolwyn and Richards the senior admiral had finally agreed, albeit reluctantly, to go ahead with the salvage operation. It had taken every bit of Bondarevsky's patience and tact to get the two strong-willed warriors to unbend and talk it over, and in the end Tolwyn had been forced to give the same detailed account of the conspiracy back in the Confederation to convince Richards that Karga's recovery was absolutely essential to more than just the Landreich.

  But after all that, it seemed Bondarevsky's solution to the problem of disarming the self-destruct system wasn't going to work.

  The OPC seemed larger with only a handful of people present for this meeting. Instead of the full battle group and Project Goliath staff who were present the last time Bondarevsky had been here, today there were only five. Tolwyn and Richards were on one side of the triangular table, while Jason sat alone on a second side. Donald Graham and Murragh occupied the third. At the moment Graham was looking troubled, while the young Kilrathi prince's expression was enigmatic, unreadable.

  "I am not sure that I mean either of those, Admiral," the kil said slowly. "I am certainly not unwilling to help. If you can put Karga back into operational status, make him a part of your fleet and use him to prevent Ragark from making a bid for the Imperial throne, I am glad to be of assistance. It is not as if I or any other kil have plans to salvage the carrier, or the means to make the attempt." Murragh leaned forward, fixing Richards with sharp, penetrating eyes. "As to my ability to help, that is less certain. I am not sure that there is anything I can do . . . but there may be. Much depends on circumstances."

  "Commander Graham's report indicates that many of your survivors are members of the carrier's Cadre," Richards said. "It seems to me the questions are simple enough. Do any of them have the ability to shut down the self-destruct system? And, if so, will they do it if you order them to do so? I can't see where circumstances will change the answers to either of those."

  Murragh made a hand gesture Bondarevsky wasn't familiar with. "You have misunderstood the basic nature of the problem, I fear, Admiral," the young officer said softly. "I seriously doubt if any member of the Cadre could release the self-destruct system. It is deliberately designed to be proof against the attempts of enemy borders to disarm it and carry the ship off as a prize. So the Cadre does not enter into the question at all."

  "Suppose you tell us what does enter into it, then," Tolwyn said. Unlike Richards, who managed a degree of smooth urbanity in his dealings with the Prince, Tolwyn was gruff and plainly uncomfortable. He'd been fighting the Kilrathi for a long time, and Bondarevsky knew he found it difficult to accept that a Cat might be an ally—particularly after the treachery of Ralgha nar Hhalles and the cunning lies that had lulled the Confederation before the Battle of Earth. Yet Tolwyn knew that this young kil prince held the key to the successful completion of the Goliath project in his stub-fingered hands. The man must have been torn between
conflicting emotions of doubt and hope.

  "The computer system aboard Karga was subject to specific command codes known to the senior officers of the carrier and the battle group," Murragh told him. "The self-destruct system can be shut down using those codes."

  "Surely you weren't senior enough to know them?" Graham demanded, glancing sidelong at the Kilrathi.

  "No, the information was limited to senior officers. But I know my uncle kept a full record of those command codes on file . . . and as his aide I did have access to those files. It may be that I can recover the information and use it to disarm the destruct sequence. But there is a risk."

  "How so?" Bondarevsky asked.

  Murragh looked at him, his face expressionless but his eyes conveying irony. "The files are in the ship's computer. In order to reach them, we must bring a portion of the computer net back on-line. And in so doing . ."

  "Risk setting off the self-destruct system," Bondarevsky finished. "Wonderful. The perfect Catch 22."

  "The . . . what?" Murragh asked.

  "A Terran figure of speech," Graham supplied. "You need to do something before you can do something else that will allow you to do the first thing." He looked at Tolwyn and Richards. "It's possible, as I'm sure your salvage experts will tell you. But there's no way to predict what might set that flying bomb off. That's why we never seriously considered having Murragh try to find the codes while we were recovering supplies and equipment from the carrier. It just wasn't worth the risk."

  Richards glanced at Tolwyn. "It seems that it is, now," he said with a sour look on his weathered features. "Can you coach one of our specialists to do the job, Lord Murragh?"

  The young kil shook his head, a human gesture he'd picked up from Graham. "No, that will not be possible. The files are open to me as an authorized member of the staff of the Battle Group Commander. There are retinal patterns and other identification markers on file in the computer. Few Kilrathi could gain access, and certainly no humans. I will have to do the job myself."

  Graham frowned. "You're a valuable asset these days, Murragh," he said. "Sending the rightful Emperor of Kilrah aboard an orbiting bomb isn't exactly the shrewdest move any of us could make. Isn't there any way around it?"

  Murragh barked a laugh. "If you have cloning technology and twenty-one standard Kilrah-years to grow a duplicate I suppose we could work an alternative out. But barring that, I think the only reasonable course within our grasp is for me to make the attempt. As to the political implications of it all . . . well, until a few days ago I was not a factor in galactic politics, and few will note my absence if I am lost to the Empire now."

  "You can be flip," Graham said, shaking his head. "But the fact remains that you could die over there. Damn it all, Murragh, I didn't look out for that flea-bitten carcass of yours all these months just to see you throw your life away on a crazy stunt like this. You know the situation aboard Karga. Even with the destruct mechanism shut down, repairing that hulk is going to take a hell of a lot of work—and in the long run I wouldn't be too sure it's even possible. Do you want to risk your life on something that might not be worth the effort in the first place?" Neither Graham nor Murragh had been filled in on Tolwyn's conspiracy information, so Bondarevsky understood how reluctant Graham would be to let his young Kilrathi friend make the attempt. As an engineer Graham knew better than most people just how much was needed to put things right aboard the Karga.

  Murragh didn't answer right away, but kept his eyes on Tolwyn for a long moment. "The reputation of Admiral Geoff Tolwyn is well known within the Empire," he said at length. "He is known to us as a warrior in the deepest sense of the word, an honorable adversary. If you, Admiral, say that it is essential that you make this effort, I will accept that and do what I can. Your goals, at present, are mine. The Kilrathi people do not need a renewal of the war. We should have ended it a long time ago. But Ukar dai Ragark and his kind will see victory in battle as the only way to rally our race to their standards, and that will mean more fighting we can ill afford when our first need is to rebuild what we lost when Kilrah was destroyed. The Codices teach us that the first duty is to the Race, and even my claim to the throne is less important in this pass than giving you the means to stop Ragark before he rekindles the fighting. I will do what I can, and hope that it is enough."

  Bondarevsky looked from the Prince to Tolwyn and back again. It seemed there was someone willing to take Tolwyn at his word.

  Admiral's Ready Room, ex-KIS Karga

  Orbiting Vaku VII, Vaku System

  0721 hours (CST), 2670.318

  "That's as ready as it's ever likely to get. If you ask me, though, we should all just turn around and head back to the carrier."

  Bondarevsky shook his head inside his helmet before he realized that Graham couldn't see the movement. "I don't like this any better than you do, Commander," he said aloud. "But now that we've come this far I think we'd better go ahead and give it a shot. As long as Murragh agrees."

  "I do," the Kilrathi prince said.

  They had led a small team of volunteers aboard Karga to attempt to retrieve the computer codes from the admiral's day cabin adjacent to the flag bridge of the battered supercarrier. This time there was no marine security detachment. Murragh had to be there, of course, and despite his continued protests Graham had volunteered to come as well, either out of pure friendship for the prince or because he felt the need to continue sharing the danger with his erstwhile fellow castaway. Bondarevsky had decided that someone from the Goliath Project leadership needed to be part of the operation; they couldn't ask strangers to take risks they weren't willing to face themselves. A pair of computer specialists from Diaz's salvage team rounded out the boarding party. Kevin Tolwyn and Aengus Harper had volunteered to fly the shuttle that had brought them across, but Bondarevsky had ordered them away once the salvage team had suited up and crossed over to the derelict. He wasn't about to put those two at risk.

  If things went sour, there was no sense in risking anyone who didn't have to be there. At that, he wished Graham had stayed behind, especially since the man continued to voice all the doubtful sentiments Bondarevsky was trying to keep from thinking of himself. But he'd proven himself invaluable since coming aboard, his engineering expertise doubly valuable because he'd acquired a working knowledge of Kilrathi technology and how to make it work with human gear.

  "Well," the engineer said, "I guess it's true what they say. Insanity really is contagious. Let's get it over with."

  "Are you ready, Mr. Mayhew?" Bondarevsky asked the senior of the two salvage crew computer specialists.

  "Yeah. I'm pretty sure we've got this terminal isolated from the rest of the net." The technician didn't sound very sure of himself, but Bondarevsky sympathized with his plight. The Kilrathi design philosophy emphasized multiply redundant systems, and it was difficult to be sure they had disconnected the flag officer's personal computer from the rest of the network of computers that made up Karga's system. "I just hope we've got the power connections right. If we've screwed something up on the conversion, it'll fry the whole unit and we'll be right back where we started."

  "It's right," Graham said. "Believe me, I've jury-rigged enough combinations of ConFleet and Imperial hardware to know what I'm doing. Right, Murragh?"

  The kil's response had a mocking note. "At least you've improved since the first few times, my friend," he said

  Since they were reluctant to tap into the ship's power grid to activate the terminal, they had decided to use a portable power pack instead. But the power specifications for Kilrathi and Terran systems were different, and Graham had been forced to improvise an adapter—he called it a "Nargrast Special"—to make the link-up possible.

  "Ready on the monitor," Kristine Voorhies said from the far side of the compartment. She had hooked a computer analyzer into another terminal, one still connected to the system, and was ready to track the behavior of Karga's network as they started to work. Hopefully she would be able to warn
them if anything they did had an effect beyond the single terminal, but Bondarevsky privately doubted it.

  "Power . . . now," Murragh said quietly, inserting a data chip in the receptacle beside the monitor.

  "Power is on," Mayhew announced.

  A yellow light came on beside the terminal, and after a long moment the screen glowed. Alien letters flowed across the screen.

  Bondarevsky realized he was holding his breath, and forced himself to relax. He almost succeeded.

  "The terminal is functioning," Murragh said quietly. His voice was calm and level, and Bondarevsky envied his control. For a young officer on his first deep-space assignment, he was one cool customer. If he ever did make it to the Imperial throne, he was likely to prove an excellent ruler.

  "Now for the hard part," Graham muttered. "Cross your fingers, folks."

  The Kilrathi computer network functioned differently from the systems used on Terran ships. Confederation computers tended to be highly centralized, fast, efficient, but vulnerable. Computer rooms were heavily armored and shielded, and a complete back-up system was installed in case the primary computer went down at a critical moment. On Kilrathi ships, though, numerous separate computers were linked together, like cells in a living brain spread out through the entire ship. Response time was slightly slower, but large chunks of the net could be knocked out without significantly impairing the computer functions of the vessel, and the network was capable of rerouting connections to bypass damaged or destroyed areas.

  With Admiral dai Nokhtak's personal terminal isolated from the rest of the ship, they had no access to the network. That was exactly the way they wanted it, given the danger from the self-destruct mechanism. What they hoped they would be able to get at, though, was the terminal's own memory. Personal data and secret files were most likely to be stored locally rather than spread through the network, which meant that the command codes they needed to take control of the ship were likely to be in this computer.