auxiliary log only, and restrict access to Commodore D'Trelna and/or I."
"Illegal command," said the computer. "Fleet regulations require all log entries be part of ship's primary records, with exception in certain special situations. These situations are . . ."
D'Trelna glared at the complink as the machine prattled on. "I hate a self-righteous computer." He raised his blaster.
"J'Quel, let me take care of it," said L'Wrona, lowering the commodore's arm, a hand to one thick wrist.
"Computer," he continued, "implement command as given, per Directive Green Seven Nine, authenticator Silver Prime."
"Implemented, my lord." The machine now spoke with a brisk, efficient baritone.
D'Trelna stared wide-eyed at the complink, then turned to L'Wrona. "Generic override?" he guessed.
"Imperial," nodded L'Wrona. "Seventh Dynasty—about the time they built this old hulk." The two turned back to the little egg.
"Something the margravate keeps to itself?" asked D'Trelna.
"And uses sparingly," smiled L'Wrona. The smile vanished. "Don't use it, J'Quel! It wreaks havoc with the programming overlay—taps those six thousand year old Imperial systems."
"No, no. Never," swore D'Trelna. Sighting again on the egg, he pulled the trigger, bathing the spheroid in a soft, red light.
Nothing happened for a moment. Then, as the blaster continued its shrilling, the egg started to glow—a golden shimmering that grew brighter as the spheroid began to swell. The two men stepped back as the slaver computer grew to fill the space in front of the warheads.
The golden shimmering dimmed, then vanished. The commodore ceased firing and holstered his weapon. The egg lay across the deck, inert.
"Well, that should have done it," said D'Trelna, frowning. "According to ship's archives, you just feed it a steady, low grade dose of energy." He shook his head. "We better get back to the bridge."
"And do what?" asked L'Wrona. "Lead the crew in prayer? No." He nodded toward the slaver machine. "There's got to be a simple activation command, common to the era." He stood staring at the golden orb, fingers softly drumming his holster.
"I'm going," said D'Trelna after a moment, stepping toward the door.
"Wait," said L'Wrona, eyes never leaving the egg. "I'm thinking."
"Think faster," said the commodore, halting reluctantly. "Or we're all going to be processed by that spaceborne abattoir out there." He jerked his thumb over his shoulder.
"T'Nil was one of the most expansionist emperors— ever," said L'Wrona. "And this"—he pointed at the egg—"a vital component of his premier war machine. If it came out of the Fleet Fabrication Center on D'Kor, there'd be a generic activation command."
"H'Nar, please, try something."
The captain walked over to where the machine lay. "Computer," he said, looking down at it, "Destiny and Empire."
Silently, the egg righted itself and rose, hovering just above the deck. "Destiny and Empire," it said in a perfect tenor. "How may I serve?"
D'Trelna slapped L'Wrona on the back. "Well done, H'Nar!"
"T'Nil's battle cry, J'Quel," said the captain. "And the motto of all successive emperors."
"It should have been blood and empire," said the commodore, watching the computer. "Identify," he said to the machine.
"Symbiotechnic Control Unit Seven-Four-Three-Eight, replicant," said the machine. "Assigned symbiotechnic dreadnought T'Nil's Revenge."
"Computer," said D'Trelna, "we need—"
"I am addressed as either Seven-Four-Three-Eight-R, or Egg," said the machine.
D'Trelna closed his eyes as if in pain, then opened them. "Egg," he said carefully, "we are in need of tactical data. How would a L'Aal-class cruiser defeat a mindsla—symbiotechnic dreadnought?''
"I'm not familiar with the nomenclature 'L'Aal,' " said Egg.
"You are on such a vessel now," said L'Wrona.
"Then I must have access to this ship's central computer," said the machine.
Captain and commodore exchanged glances. "What've we got to lose?" said L'Wrona.
"Very
"Illegal command," said the computer. "Fleet regulations require all log entries be part of ship's primary records, with exception in certain special situations. These situations are . . ."
D'Trelna glared at the complink as the machine prattled on. "I hate a self-righteous computer." He raised his blaster.
"J'Quel, let me take care of it," said L'Wrona, lowering the commodore's arm, a hand to one thick wrist.
"Computer," he continued, "implement command as given, per Directive Green Seven Nine, authenticator Silver Prime."
"Implemented, my lord." The machine now spoke with a brisk, efficient baritone.
D'Trelna stared wide-eyed at the complink, then turned to L'Wrona. "Generic override?" he guessed.
"Imperial," nodded L'Wrona. "Seventh Dynasty—about the time they built this old hulk." The two turned back to the little egg.
"Something the margravate keeps to itself?" asked D'Trelna.
"And uses sparingly," smiled L'Wrona. The smile vanished. "Don't use it, J'Quel! It wreaks havoc with the programming overlay—taps those six thousand year old Imperial systems."
"No, no. Never," swore D'Trelna. Sighting again on the egg, he pulled the trigger, bathing the spheroid in a soft, red light.
Nothing happened for a moment. Then, as the blaster continued its shrilling, the egg started to glow—a golden shimmering that grew brighter as the spheroid began to swell. The two men stepped back as the slaver computer grew to fill the space in front of the warheads.
The golden shimmering dimmed, then vanished. The commodore ceased firing and holstered his weapon. The egg lay across the deck, inert.
"Well, that should have done it," said D'Trelna, frowning. "According to ship's archives, you just feed it a steady, low grade dose of energy." He shook his head. "We better get back to the bridge."
"And do what?" asked L'Wrona. "Lead the crew in prayer? No." He nodded toward the slaver machine. "There's got to be a simple activation command, common to the era." He stood staring at the golden orb, fingers softly drumming his holster.
"I'm going," said D'Trelna after a moment, stepping toward the door.
"Wait," said L'Wrona, eyes never leaving the egg. "I'm thinking."
"Think faster," said the commodore, halting reluctantly. "Or we're all going to be processed by that spaceborne abattoir out there." He jerked his thumb over his shoulder.
"T'Nil was one of the most expansionist emperors— ever," said L'Wrona. "And this"—he pointed at the egg—"a vital component of his premier war machine. If it came out of the Fleet Fabrication Center on D'Kor, there'd be a generic activation command."
"H'Nar, please, try something."
The captain walked over to where the machine lay. "Computer," he said, looking down at it, "Destiny and Empire."
Silently, the egg righted itself and rose, hovering just above the deck. "Destiny and Empire," it said in a perfect tenor. "How may I serve?"
D'Trelna slapped L'Wrona on the back. "Well done, H'Nar!"
"T'Nil's battle cry, J'Quel," said the captain. "And the motto of all successive emperors."
"It should have been blood and empire," said the commodore, watching the computer. "Identify," he said to the machine.
"Symbiotechnic Control Unit Seven-Four-Three-Eight, replicant," said the machine. "Assigned symbiotechnic dreadnought T'Nil's Revenge."
"Computer," said D'Trelna, "we need—"
"I am addressed as either Seven-Four-Three-Eight-R, or Egg," said the machine.
D'Trelna closed his eyes as if in pain, then opened them. "Egg," he said carefully, "we are in need of tactical data. How would a L'Aal-class cruiser defeat a mindsla—symbiotechnic dreadnought?''
"I'm not familiar with the nomenclature 'L'Aal,' " said Egg.
"You are on such a vessel now," said L'Wrona.
"Then I must have access to this ship's central computer," said the machine.
Captain and commodore exchanged glances. "What've we got to lose?" said L'Wrona.
"Very
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