Symbionts Read Free Page A

climate and atmosphere to human specifications.
    The Empire’s decision to invade New America had been a major escalation in what until that point had been little more than sparring, a contest of skirmishes, words, demands, and minor armed incidents testing willpower and resolve rather than an outright war. The invasion had marked a turning point in the war, one bearing the promise that the purchase price of Confederation independence would not be cheap.
    A second escalation had occurred at the world called Herakles, a few months later. The Confederation government, fleeing the debacle at New America, had taken refuge in a system abandoned by man decades earlier. At least part of the reason for that decision had been the presence of the Xenophobe; Dev had managed to make contact with the strange being, had enlisted its aid in the war against the Empire. Almost certainly, the Naga was incapable of comprehending such human concepts as “allies” or “war,” but with the Naga joined directly with Dev’s nervous system, the two of them had created… something new, something smarter and more powerful and far more dangerous than man or Naga alone.
    That symbiosis—Dev still had trouble confronting the memory of that time—had ended with the obliteration of a major Imperial battlefleet. Just three enemy ships had escaped to spread the news of a terrible and incomprehensible weapon in the rebel arsenal on Herakles. Early hopes that the Battle of Herakles might end the fighting and establish independence for the Confederation worlds had been dashed, however, when the Imperial Staff had announced that there could be no dialogue, no peace, and no quarter for traitors. The war was going to continue for a long time, with Naga participation or without.
    So far as New America was concerned, the Confederation would be returning there one day; the world, its resources, its people were too valuable to the Rebellion to simply abandon them to the Hegemony and its Imperial masters. That day was likely to be awhile in coming, however. The infant Confederation Navy mustered a fraction of the number of ships on the Imperial lists, and Eagle —formerly the Imperial destroyer Tokitukaze —was the rebels’ single most powerful warship, dwarfed in size and firepower by the Empire’s cruisers and kilometer-long dragonships. In the meantime, the Confederation would have to limit itself to hit-and-run strikes against lightly defended Hegemony outposts.
    And commerce raiding. The glowing starpoints on the 3-D navigational graphic flashed out, replaced by a combat display, gleaming colored lights floating against blackness. Eagle’s weapons systems showed full readiness.
    “Identity of corvette Teshio confirmed,” Eagle’s communications officer reported. “They’re hailing, demanding identity codes.”
    “No reply,” Dev said. “They know we’re up to no good.”
    “We’re in range, Captain,” Messier reported. “Starhawk Three is powered up and ready to accept link.”
    “And target is launching,” Grier added. “Two… no, make that four missiles. Definitely remote-piloted, probable Starhawk class.”
    New points of light appeared on the combat display. The pace of data flow, of urgent, low-voiced exchanges between members of the bridge crew and with the enlisted personnel manning stations throughout the ship increased. It was often said, Dev remembered, that life in the military during wartime consisted mostly of sheer boredom, punctuated by rare, brief interludes of stark terror.
    The terror had begun. He knew his heart rate was up, that adrenaline was flowing through his sleeping body, though he couldn’t sense the changes through his analogue.
    “Countermissile defenses standing by. Tracking.”
    “Scans show nuclear warheads in those missiles, probable one-to-three-kiloton range. They’re arming.’’
    Nukes. For centuries, Dai Nihon had maintained a monopoly on all nuclear weapons, part of the control they wielded