Battle of the Ring (33 page)

As it turned out, that was perhaps the only thing that saved her. The
Challenger altered her path to follow the fleeing carrier, opening fire while
her target was still in range. In the next instant she turned into a rapidly
expanding nova of blinding light and heat and millions of tons of vaporized
metal. The Methryn all but leaped into starflight to stay ahead of the shock
wave that put a sizable dent in the ring and for a short time added a white
glaze to its normal dirty brown as the haze of trapped ice crystals was
vaporized by the stellar heat.

Within minutes the Methryn was setting herself into a wide, slow orbit
around the planet well outside the ring. Six of the seven fighters of the
special tactics team closed quickly on final approach to her landing bay.
Velmeran brought his fighter in quickly, landing in the center of the bay. He
leaped out as soon as the canopy was open and ran for the lift that was waiting
for him, landing-bay crewmembers moving silently out of his way.

Even though he knew what had happened, he still was not prepared for the
destruction he saw on the deserted bridge. Temporary patches had been set in
the hull so that the atmosphere could be restored, and all of the loose debris
had been cleared away. Most of the bridge showed some damage; both of the
stations of the middle bridge were in ruins, while the blasted pit of the upper
bridge was lost in darkness. This was the worst shock for Velmeran, even above
the sight of the Methryn’s wrecked nose. His earliest cherished memories
were of his privileged visits to the place, the Methryn’s heart, when his
mother had still been Commander-designate and the best pack leader on the ship.

“Valthyrra?” he called hesitantly.

She brought her camera pod around to look at him, the twisted hinges of her
boom creaking. Only one lens focused in on him, the leads of the damaged camera
hanging loose.

“I am sorry,” she said softly. “I let you down.”

“No, not you,” he assured her as he walked over to join her.
“It was my fault, if anyone’s. My careful plans simply were not
good enough.”

Velmeran collapsed wearily into the nearest of the two seats of the
navigational console. Valthyrra brought her camera pod in closely to look at
him. “There is a matter of truth that I would discuss with you. I suspect
that you knew that this fight would cost a life. You meant it to be your
own.”

“I wish that it had been,” he said despondently. “I guess
I believed that I had made some bargain with fate, that I could trade my own
life to protect a world and save my ship. If nothing else, I have been taught
that fate is only a word for what will be, and that I cannot bargain with
chance. And that, for all my special talents, I cannot see the future, only
hints of what might be. I would rather see nothing at all.”

“No, you are wrong,” Valthyrra insisted. “Twice now you
have been warned, and twice you have used that warning to shape a future of
your own making. But shaping a future and controlling it are two very different
things. It is only natural to blame yourself when something goes wrong, but
that really does not make it your fault.”

Velmeran said nothing, nor would he even look up at her. Still, she thought
that he had listened to her, and that his grief would not turn inward to guilt
and self-doubt. “I feel very alone just now,” he said at last.

“I think you know that you are not,” she told him. “You
are surrounded by a great many people who love you and think very highly of
you. There is a girl down in the landing bay just now who is crying as much for
you as for her former Commander. I hope I do not have to tell you how much you
mean to me.”

Velmeran sighed heavily with regret at the mention of Consherra. He had not
told her and the others, saving that bad news for when they were clear of the
Challenger. He had meant to be the one to tell them upon their return, but he
had forgotten in his haste to reach the bridge.

He shook his head slowly. “What have I won? Mayelna is gone. My ship
is wrecked. I had to leave Lenna in that ship after she came back to help us.
Donalt Trace is dead, and even that gives me no satisfaction. I am tired of war
and destruction. For once I would like to know that I have done something
positive, something of value.”

“But you have,” Valthyrra insisted. “In years to come you
will make an end to this war, and free the Kelvessan to seek worlds and lives
of their own. Before she died, Mayelna spoke these final words. She said that
we must not grieve for her, for her life was long and full and nearly all that
she had ever hoped to see had come to pass. She said that I must watch over
you, and help you in every way I can to use your special talents to make the
best future you can imagine. For no one has ever done a tenth as much to shape
a new future for the Kelvessan as you have.”

Velmeran looked up at her suspiciously. “Did she really say all
that?”

“Well, no,” the ship admitted reluctantly. “All she said
was, ‘Save yourself, you old fool.’ In her own way, that meant very
much the same thing.”

Velmeran made an odd noise, and Valthyrra glanced quickly away in the
thought that he was going to cry. Then, to her astonishment, she realized that
he was laughing softly. She turned to stare at him, and then the humor of that
struck her as well.

“Commander?” she said gently.

Velmeran glanced up at her, momentarily shocked to receive that title and
its awesome burden of responsibility for the first time. Then he found that,
while the title might be new, the mantle of responsibility had a familiar, almost
comfortable feel with little power to frighten him. He rose and shrugged the
shoulders of his armor into place.

“Progress report.”

“I have already sent the packs to assist the Kalvyn in breaking
the invasion force over Tryalna,” Valthyrra reported. “Capture
ships and other support vessels are also on their way to assist.”

“Donalt Trace said something about conversion devices in low
orbit.”

“I will consult with Schayressa on the matter immediately.”

“Call me a lift, then.”

“I left it waiting for you,” Valthyrra said. “By the way,
Schayressa reports that she discovered the conversion devices quite sometime
ago and quietly removed them.”

“Send her my compliments on being so alert,” Velmeran said as he
entered the lift. Privately, he wished that those devices had not been there.

He found Consherra and the members of his special tactics team waiting for
him in the corner of the landing bay where the lift opened. Consherra had been
crying; even the boundless energy and optimism of Tregloran was subdued by sadness
and a sense of defeat, and he had been crying nearly as much as Consherra had.
They looked up at him expectantly as the door opened, and he could guess their
thoughts. An age in the history of the Methryn was passing. Mayelna had been
the last of her pirate commanders. Velmeran was a warrior, not a pirate, and he
required a warship to serve him.

“I am sorry for not telling you at the time,” he began. “I
wanted you to concentrate on watching out for yourselves.”

“Of course, Commander. You had the success of the mission and the
lives of your crewmembers to consider,” Trel, the oldest, answered for
them all.

The lift doors snapped open again and Keth stepped out to join the small
group. “Commander?”

“Yes, I need your help,” Velmeran said. “I believe that you
have students who are ready to join the packs.”

“Yes, Commander. Ten in all.”

“I will take them off your hands right now,” Velmeran said, and
turned to Barress. “I want you to take Gyllan, Merkollyn, and Delvon
with five of those students to form a new pack. The remaining five will serve
as replacements for our old pack. Treg, do you think you can handle
that?”

“Can I?” The younger pilot seemed about to jump for joy, but
caught himself and attained an exaggerated air of mature dignity. “I
would be happy to oblige.”

“It is a bother, but someone has to do it,” Velmeran agreed, and
turned back to Keth. “You know your students best, so I will leave it up
to you to divide them between the two packs.”

“And what of the special tactics team?” Baress asked.

“That stays exactly the way it is,” Valthyrra insisted, cutting
Velmeran off, as her camera pod pushed its way to the middle of the group.
“Meran, the better part of your business is conducted through special
tactics. And you have to admit that you could not very well sit back and direct
a special tactics team from the bridge.”

“That is true, but Commanders are not allowed to fly,” he
protested.

“Allowed? Where is that written? You kept a special tactics team in
addition to your pack for two years, and there was no problem with that. Who is
going to say you cannot?”

“Treg and I will be busy with our own packs, but we have no intention
of giving up special tactics,” Baress said.

Consherra frowned. “I suppose that I would even be willing to go out
with you again, if you ever need me.”

“Which brings us to the subject of lost members,” Valthyrra
said, drifting slowly into the bay while bending her long neck to peer out the
rear door. The others looked as well; they saw nothing, but they could all
sense the approach of a single fighter.

“Lenna?” Velmeran asked as he came to stand beside the probe.

“Who else?” she asked in return. “She accepted landing
instructions but says that she is too busy to talk. I am going to signal a
crash alert and summon Dyenlerra to the bay.”

The three demanding beeps of the alarm sent the bay crew into immediate
action, securing fighters in their racks so that they could be carried away.
Half a minute later the incoming fighter ducked beneath the Methryn’s
tail as it began its final approach. At the same time that it dropped its
landing gear, the watchers in the bay noticed something unusual about the
little ship. A curious white object could be seen standing upright in the hull
between and just ahead of the two vertical fins. Velmeran’s first thought
was that the fighter had been transfixed by a piece of wreckage hurtled from
the explosion of the Challenger.

Then the fighter slipped smoothly into the bay and the strange object was
revealed to be a passenger. Bill, the sentry, stood atop the ship, his powerful
legs braced with his magnetic pads locked to the metal hull. Lenna brought the
fighter to the front of the bay and landed gently, and Valthyrra immediately
brought in a set of handling arms to pluck the automaton from atop the ship.
Lenna opened the cockpit and climbed out just as Velmeran walked over to join
her.

“I will not ask you why you brought that machine back with you,”
he said slowly. “I will not even ask you if you are crazy, or simply
foolish. But I would like to know how you managed to get it on top of your
fighter and still get away in time.”

“Oh, I sent him on ahead,” Lenna explained as if it was some
trifling matter. “In free-fall like that, the hardest thing was for him
to climb out of the lock. He just walked up the sloping part of the wing and
was waiting when I got there. And it was a near thing, I can tell you. The
shield went up just as I was about to light out of there, so I had to wait it
out or risk being caught in the Methryn’s fire. But I had to run for hell
when that shield came down because I knew that the Fortress was going to blow
in a matter of seconds when it did. Scared me half to death when it did, too.
Even Bill commented on it.”

Velmeran turned to look at the sentry, which had just been lowered to the
deck. Sentries were not known for their personalities, which rated somewhat
above a toaster but well below a Starwolf carrier. Bill did seem to be
developing one, but Velmeran was not sure if it was really his own or just a
reflection of what Lenna believed him to be.

“He did save my life,” she added defensively, having noticed his
stare. “Besides, I thought that I might use him in my spy work.
Especially if he can always scan the security frequencies the automatons are
linked on. He was very helpful.”

“The two of you have more than proved your worth,” Velmeran
agreed. “But I want Valthyrra to completely rework his hardware to make
him more intelligent and versatile.”

“Do I have a patient here?” Dyenlerra asked as she pushed her
way to the center of the group, closing on Lenna.

“Not her, but you might have a look at Bill.”

“Bill? Who is Bill?” the medic asked. She glanced over her
shoulder, and nearly jumped out of her armor.

As soon as Tryalna was secure and the remains of the human invasion force
sent running for home, the Methryn and the Kalvyn made a short journey
together. Surrounded by their packs, they dived side by side toward the fiery
heart of that system. They came uncomfortably close to the warm yellow sun
before they veered away, leaving behind an old friend on her brief sojourn to
her final rest.

Commander Tryn carried Mayelna to her last rest, her broken body encased in
white armor donated by Dyenlerra to replace her ruined armor. Nearly four
thousand Starwolves, every crewmember of both ships who had a suit, crowded
onto the broad platforms over the shock bumpers of the two ships, while those
who did not watched from the windows of the observation decks.

It was a very hard time for Velmeran, and he was privately grateful to be
spared the need to carry his mother to her final rest. He never looked upon her
again after his return from the Fortress, preferring to keep as his last memory
of her their final words in the landing bay. He had been so happy then,
thinking that he had accomplished something good for her in his offer to
command the Methryn in her place. Now the Methryn was his, but all his hopes
and good intentions had been for nothing.

Velmeran was distracted from his grief afterward when his return to the
crowded observation deck became an unexpected reception for his confirmation as
the Methryn’s new Commander. All of the officers, pack leaders, and
various other crewmembers, including many from the Kalvyn, presented themselves
to offer their condolences and quietly affirm their loyalty. Tryn slipped away
early, responding to Schayressa’s subtle pleas for his return, and
Consherra disappeared with Lenna and Dyenlerra soon after. At least
Valthyrra’s probe stayed dutifully at his side the entire time.