Battle of the Ring (12 page)

“Let me get right to the point,” Makayen began unceremoniously.
“Last night my sister came home half drunk and worried about some
off-worlder she had met. A Trader by the name of Sergei Rachmaninoff. She said
that he had run afoul of Treck Lesries, and Lesries was looking to kill him.
Would you be that person?”

“I might.”

“Well, I thought that odd from the start, since there is no
independent freighter on the ground or in system at the moment. No ship of
any kind, for that matter, except the Methryn. So I ran a computer check on the
name Sergei Rachmaninoff, and it told me something quite amazing.”

Velmeran shrugged. “It is hard to be original on short notice.”

Makayen nodded thoughtfully. “I figured as much. Well now, if you can
give me an honest accounting of who you are, where you might be from and what
you’re doing here, I’ll call it good and trouble you no
more.”

“My name is Velmeran, Commander-designate of the Methryn,” he
said, drawing aside his cape to reveal his lower arms – and the guns he
wore. “I am trying to enjoy port leave.”

“Bless me, I’ve something cooking in the kitchen!” Den Ohlera
exclaimed and ran from the room.

“Well, you can see why I would want to take a vacation from that
name... and the reputation that goes with it,” Velmeran said, amused.

“I suppose I can,” Makayen agreed. “I was a little peeved
at you, I must admit, for doing what I could never allow myself to do. You were
waiting for him to come, weren’t you? Why did you do it?”

“Well, for any number of good reasons. Because he was a Union agent,
for one. Because the Union cannot retaliate for his death if a Starwolf was
responsible. To give Lenna something in exchange for the one thing she wants
most and I cannot give her. And to keep you from having to sacrifice your
career, your freedom, and possibly even your life trying to handle the matter
yourself.”

“Then I owe you a lot, I suppose,” Makayen said. “And
taking care of Treck Lesries for her makes up for your deception. But it
will still break her heart when you go, for she’s expecting you to take
her with you.”

“Yes, I know. This much, however, I can do. The Traders are a race
apart, and they take care of their own. I can put the word out that someone
with the training to be an apprentice in helm and navigation wants a place on a
ship. Someone will come for her.”

“Fair enough,” Makayen agreed. “I think she’s a
fool, but I can also see that she’ll never be happy here. Now be on,
before I arrest you for possession of illegal arms.”

Velmeran smiled as he smoothed his cape into place. “Is there such a
thing?”

“Sure, and that’s what we call it,” the Kanian replied.
“For that matter, those jack-snappers you wear probably qualify... not
that I would try not take them from you. Just promise me that you’ll try
not to kill anyone else this visit.”

“Except Unioners,” Velmeran said on the way out.

“It’s open season on them!”

Velmeran had only just stepped outside the small cafe when he saw Lenna
racing toward him down the narrow street of the Mall. He hurried to intercept
her, although he suspected that she already knew something about his
morning’s activities. She stopped just short of him and walked around him
in a slow circle, inspecting him for damage.

“I saw the medics taking someone away just now,” she said.
“I was afraid that Lesries had caught up with you.”

“He did,” Velmeran explained. “That was his body they were
hauling off.”

“His body, did you say?” Lenna demanded, turning momentarily
white in that curious way she had. “You killed him, did you now? And why
the hell didn’t you wait for me? You sat in that pub until he came for
you, didn’t you?”

“Sure, and I did,” he replied lightly. “I did not want you
to be there when it happened.”

“Spare me not your barbarity, Mr. Rachmaninoff!” she exclaimed
in exasperation as they started down the street. “I hope they plant him
fast, so that I can have the pleasure of dancing on his grave.”

The Challenger left starflight reluctantly, her vast bulk refusing to
lose momentum. The moment she dropped to sub-light speeds she sent out her
riders, a hundred destroyers and twenty battleships she carried in bays hidden
within her outer hull. They quickly fanned out ahead, forming a protective cone
about the larger ships. A fleet of stingship carriers followed close
behind, and then the supply convoy with spare engines and cannons transported
in long racks. A planetary invasion force brought up the rear, then regular carriers
and five battleships with a score of destroyer escorts. Two separate
forces, one to deal with the rebellious planet they had come to tame, and the
other to deal with the Starwolves who would come to protect it.

The Challenger’s bridge was a scene of organized confusion. It now
seemed that Maeken Kea was the only Captain of this ship. Commander Trace
clearly deferred to her in the operation of the ship, staying completely out of
her chair and, for the most part, off the bridge as well. That did not mean,
however, that she was not under his orders, and she waited now for him to tell
her what he expected.

“All secure, Captain?” Trace asked suddenly over com, obviously
still in his cabin. She bent over the unit in her console to answer.

“All secure, Commander. She fought us a little coming out of
starflight, but I understand that you’ve see that before. What are your
orders?”

“My orders?” Trace asked. “I brought you along to give the
orders. What do you think we should do?”

Maeken Kea sat back in her chair a moment to consider that. “Actually,
there are not just a great many options. First, we send in the invasion force
immediately, standard procedure, and get that out of the way. It seems to me
that this ship will fight best alone. Send the convoy into hiding and give it
all our fighting ships for protection, since it is the weak link in our
defenses. When the Starwolves realize that they cannot fight us directly, they
will go after the convoy to rob us of our advantage in damage control.”

“Interesting,” Trace commented. “I had always thought to
keep the convoy close, but you’re right. What next?”

“Well, a Fortress is no good in a chase, so we have to get the
Starwolves to come to us. I would park it in a very wide orbit over the planet.
With any luck they will see it, take it to be a large armored battle station
like I almost did, and come strolling over to take a look. That way we might
get them well within our range before the fighting starts. Then we move the
stingship carriers halfway between us and the convoy so that they can move
quickly to support either position at need.”

“Carry on as you see fit. You are in complete command.”

“Does that include the invasion force,?” she asked.

“Fleet Captain Margis is responsive to your orders. But he has done this
before, so he knows what he is doing and you can trust him to handle things at
his end.”

“Very good, sir,” Maeken said, although Trace had already closed
the line. She shrugged and looked up. “Marenna Challenger?”

“Yes, Captain?” the machine responded promptly.

“Get me Captain Margis.”

The response came momentarily. “Margis here.”

“I’ve been busy with this monster of a ship, so I haven’t
had a chance to look at what you’re up against. What do you think?”

“This is going to be a tough nut to crack,” Margis explained.
“They’ve got quite a horde of fighters, and if they’re smart
they’ll make us come inside the planetary defense shield to fight. They
have the fighters and the defenses to make it hard to get at their defensive
installations. We will take it slow and careful.”

“That’s fine,” Maeken answered. “Keep your communications
closed so that nothing gives us away. We’re going to be parked a little
way out pretending to be a battle station, and no one is to know otherwise. I
certainly don’t want the locals tipping us off to the Starwolves.
Proceed when ready.”

“We’re ready now, so we might as well go straight in,”
Margis said. “I’ll keep you informed of our situation. Out.”

“Out.” Maeken glanced up. “Marenna?”

“Yes, Captain?”

“Find us a likely place to hide this convoy, will you?”

“Word does have a way of getting around,” Lenna Makayen offered
helpfully as Velmeran stared dejectedly at the pitcher of beer in front of him.
He had been receiving ‘presents’ all afternoon, rewards from
various members of the grateful population of Kanis for his brave act of
pesticide. He had no use for any of it; Lenna stood to do well by his
notoriety.

“You have no place for me in your ship. I’ve guessed that
already,” Lenna said, returning to their original subject as she reached
for his empty glass, set it beside her own, and filled up both.

“So? I have connections with the regular Traders. All I have to do is
put in a good word for you, and someone will come for you soon. Or advise you
where to meet them.”

“I’d rather go with you.”

He smiled. “Once you step on board your own ship, it will be a long
time before you think of me again.”

“You’ll not be an easy one to forget,” Lenna said,
reaching across the table to catch the end of one of his braids. The thick,
soft tufts of fine hair fascinated her. “You come from somewhere
outside Union space, don’t you?”

“No, I was born in this very sector,” he said. “Why do you
ask?”

“Because you’re the most curious little fellow I’ve ever
seen. You look like the people I grew up with, only they didn’t wear
their hair in braids. And they didn’t speak with an accent.”

“Everyone has their own dialect.”

“Sure, but I know the Trader’s dialect,” she insisted.
“Yours isn’t a dialect. It’s the accent of someone who knows
Terran very well but speaks something else at home. For one thing, you
don’t contract.”

“Just because I don’t doesn’t mean I can’t.”

“You know what I mean,” Lenna said, frowning.
“There’s something about you that is as alien as can be in
something that’s still human.”

“What? Oh, come on!” Velmeran declared, rising swiftly and
pulling her with him. “I learned last night that when you begin to wax
philosophical, it means that you are getting drunk.”

They paused outside the door of the pub, looking up and down the street.
Velmeran was unaware that there was anything different about this night
compared to the last, but there were more people out and about the narrow
streets. And he thought from their manner and dress that they were looking for
entertainment rather than just shopping.

“You realize that there is nowhere we can go tonight that people
aren’t going to make a fuss over you,” Lenna said after a moment.
They started down the street to their right.

“Why?” Velmeran asked. “Are they that glad to be rid of
Lesries?”

“Everyone hated Lesries, that’s a fact, and everyone is glad
he’s gone. But you, now. You’re a hero. It’s you
they’re celebrating.”

“Me?” he asked, confused. “I only paid back a
murderer.”

“And so you did, “ Lenna agreed. “That’s what people
admire you for. You saw what needed to be done and you did it, simple and
quick. You’re a little like Treck in that. Sure, he was a murderer and a
first-rate bastard, but he took what he wanted and never gave a damn what
anyone else thought about it. He was completely independent and never afraid of
a thing, and neither are you. You’ve got to admire that in a man, because
most of us don’t have it.”

Velmeran did his best to understand, but he was defeated by that curious
sense of panic of a mind struggling with an impossible concept. To
Kelvessan, the concepts of good and evil were nearly absolute. Their own laws
of society were instinctive and inviolate, without the need of the enforcement
of police and courts. For humans, he realized, the laws of nature were instinctive,
laws that held that the self is all-important and each took what he wanted. The
laws of society had to be learned and accepted, but were always in danger of
being lost beneath older, more basic standards. He could understand that much,
but that was the limit of his comprehension. He could not begin to understand
why humans actually cherished that lawlessness in themselves.

He noticed that Lenna was staring at him very intently and shrugged.
“Perhaps, but I still do not care for all the notoriety. I certainly do
not want the reputation of being a killer.”

“You said it to me yourself. ‘I’ve killed before and will
again,’ or something like that.”

“Well, it’s not as if I go around killing people all the
time.”

He stopped short, as if listening for something. In the next instant he spun
around, his guns already in his hands, and fired two rapid shots through the
sparse crowd of astonished people behind him. The bolts entered the short alley
they had just passed and exploded through the middle of an open door, cracking
the opaque glass of its window and leaving two smoking holes. Velmeran
stood for a moment staring at the door. Everyone, over a dozen people in all,
turned and looked as well, then scattered. He glanced back at Lenna, who was regarding
him skeptically.

“As you were saying, Mr. Rachmaninoff?” she asked coolly.

“Oh, you are a... here!” He thrust a gun into her hands.
“Take this and stand guard.”

“I have one of my own,” Lenna said, holding up a big Union
service pistol, powerful enough to dent Starwolf armor. He stared in mild
surprise, wondering where she had kept the thing hidden.

He shrugged and turned toward the door, opening it cautiously. A young
man, clearly an off-worlder, lay on the floor inside, panting in his pain. One
bolt had discharged against his sternum, shattering his rib cage. The other had
passed completely through his chest, just under his right shoulder. There
was nothing remarkable about him, just a sandy-haired boy in his early
twenties. A very businesslike gun in his right hand was the only thing to
indicate his profession. Velmeran confiscated the gun, handing it to Lenna.