Battle of the Ring (5 page)

“Very well,” Maeken replied uncertainly, ill at ease since there
was nothing she could physically address. “Your destination, course, and
speed are listed in your records. Have you scanned your flight
information?”

“Yes, Captain. We are clear to proceed.”

“Then you may get under way when ready,” Maeken instructed.
“Please inform your support convoy to follow at the prescribed
distance.”

“Yes, Captain. I am beginning acceleration now.”

The beast was moving? Maeken glanced about the bridge; wondering if they
were going to maintain this leisurely pace all the way into light speed.
Officers were seated at their consoles on the main bridge, several steps lower
than her own raised platform, watching attentively as the machine ran itself.

“We are under way and moving toward our assigned flight path,”
the ship reported. “System control reports all clear. Do you have any
additional orders?”

“No, that is all,” Maeken replied, hoping that she had told the
beast everything it needed to know to get itself under way. “Get me
Commander Trace on the com.”

“One moment.”

“Trace here,” he answered almost immediately.

“Yes, Commander, the ship informs me that we are under way,”
Maeken said, leaning over the microphone in the arm of the chair.
“Everything seems to be functioning perfectly.”

“Excellent! What do you think of her?”

“Ah... ask me again when I have seen if it can fight.”

Trace laughed. “Too slow for a warship? I’m afraid that the
Starwolves still have us beat in that regard. If she gives you any problems,
just tell her to explain herself.”

“Yes, Commander,” Maeken answered, and hoped that she did not
sound too dubious in that reply. She shrugged to herself and leaned back in her
oversize chair, watching numeric and graphic displays flash across the main
viewscreen superimposed on the starfield that was the ship’s forward
view. Most of it was beyond her present understanding.

“Computer?” she asked suddenly, remembering one important
omission.

“Yes, Captain?”

“Do you have a name?”

“Yes, Captain. I have a name for my own use, as does the ship
itself,” it explained. “I am Marenna Challenger.”

Maeken nodded to herself. This ship was a perfect antithesis of a Starwolf
carrier. She was impressed, although not greatly. But she was hopeful. Soon
they would see if the theory behind this ship was as sound as Commander Trace
obviously believed. The Fortress was going out to hunt.

Consherra knew that something was wrong when she saw Velmeran enter the
bridge, fully dressed in armor. The Methryn was hunting, laying in wait beside
a major lane, and her on-duty personnel had to remain suited and ready for
battle. But that did not include Velmeran, since his pack was not due to go
out. She slipped out of her seat on the middle bridge and hurried to him,
leading him back from the bridge into the outer corridor. She was surprised
when he responded to her attentions by holding her close and kissing her.
Velmeran turned to her in open affection of his own initiative only when he
felt troubled and insecure.

“Trouble?” she asked, reluctant to end this rare moment.

“The worst,” he answered. “Do you recall when I was laying
plans for our raid on Vannkarn? I was uncertain that anyone would believe in me.”

“I remember,” Consherra said. “Valthyrra came to your
rescue.”

“Well, she might not support me so willingly this time, since what I
am going to say is even more outrageous. Sherry, do you believe in me?”

“Of course,” she assured him.

“Then turn down your thermostat and follow me.”

He led her quickly to the upper bridge, where Mayelna and Valthyrra were
conferring on some matter. They both looked up immediately, well aware that
something was wrong by the purposeful manner of this delegation.

“Is there some problem?” Valthyrra asked.

“Perhaps,” Velmeran said. “A ship will come into scanner
range in about five minutes, a freighter of the new Class M type and a very
tempting target. Although you will find no indication of a trap, it is a
tremendous danger to us. We must let it go or we stand a very good chance of
losing ships – perhaps even you.”

“And how do you know this?” Valthyrra asked without a pause.

“Do not ask me how I know,” he snapped, irritated and desperate.
“I do not believe in precognition – I cannot. And yet the fact
remains. I know that if we capture this ship, it will blow up in our faces. Do
you believe me or not?”

Valthyrra did not answer at once. She glanced at Mayelna, but the Commander
offered no advice. After a long, uneasy moment she came to some decision, for
her camera pod moved in a negative gesture.

“No, I do not,” she said. “I know that I encouraged you to
explore your talents. But there will be times when you are wrong, and it seems
to me that even you are reluctant to believe this. I cannot afford to indulge
your whims and hunches.”

Velmeran looked hurt and betrayed. He had thought that Valthyrra believed in
him, even loved him in her way. He was not prepared for her to so quickly judge
him a fool and tell him so to his face. But if he was hurt, Consherra was
outraged.

“You listen to me, you steel-plated ass!” she declared,
approaching the pod menacingly. “His untried and oh-so-inexact talent has
already saved you from one incident when your befogged scanners could not tell
an independent freighter from a company ship.”

Valthyrra considered that. “You are right. Very well, I will make this
concession. If a Class M freighter sails past in the next few minutes, then I
will scan it as thoroughly as I possibly can. If I detect nothing wrong, then I
will permit you to run guard. That way you can be out there in the middle of
things, where you might be able to tell us just what is wrong. And when you can
explain a little better, then I will listen.”

“Good enough,” Velmeran agreed. “I think that I can get us
out of the trouble that you are determined to get us into. I sent my pack on to
the landing bay. I trust that you will have our fighters sent down to the
deck.”

“It is so ordered,” Mayelna said softly, glaring at Valthyrra.

Velmeran turned and walked away without a second glance.

Consherra seemed likely to follow. She hurried to the edge of the upper
bridge to watch him until he left through the lift corridor. Then she turned to
Valthyrra in raw, unrestrained fury.

“What do you think you are doing?” she demanded. “What
could have possibly gotten into your circuits for you to turn against him like
that, after all that he has done for you?”

“Now you just wait a moment,” Valthyrra returned with equal
force. “I cannot for one moment believe that he can see the future. It
may be that trying to deal with his frightening new talents has unsettled him.
I can only hope that he will recover from these fantasies, but I certainly
cannot afford to indulge him.”

“Well, you just suit yourself,” Consherra replied. “I am
going to take Velmeran to another ship as soon as I can arrange it.”

“You can do that, and I will be rid of both of you. But I can tell you
now that no other ship... Oh, dear!” Valthyrra ended ominously. The
others looked at her questioningly, but she offered no explanation. Instead her
lenses unfocused as her concentration shifted elsewhere. “Velmeran, are
you still near a com?”

“I was just getting off the lift,” he replied. “So, you
finally found that Class M freighter. Will you let her go?”

“No. Not unless we find a good reason. I suppose that I will have to
learn the hard way.”

“Very well, then. I expected no more.”

“Do you still refuse to believe?” Consherra demanded.

Valthyrra turned her camera pod to look at her. “If Velmeran is going to
start making predictions, then he is going to have to prove his accuracy before
anyone can trust him completely. Even when it means taking a risk.”

Part of the reason that Velmeran found such reluctance to his call to let
this one go lay in the fact that Starwolves dreamed of catching Class M
freighters. These unique vessels were the freight versions of the big colony
and passenger ships. They were rich prizes in themselves, for they carried only
the cream of the company trade, as well as bringing a healthy ransom.

Velmeran’s pack was to fly guard for Barman. That, in Velmeran’s
estimation, only complicated matters all the more. Barthan was the youngest
pack leader except for Velmeran himself, and he was as well the only pack
leader on the Methryn who opposed Velmeran’s appointment as
Commander-designate. Their enmity, although strong for Kelvessan, was
relatively tame by human standards. But it was enough that Barthan would be
recklessly eager to prove the younger pilot wrong.

“My scanners detect nothing to cause any concern,” Valthyrra
reported as the two packs closed on the unsuspecting freighter. “No
bombs. No missiles. Not much in the way of rich cargo, either. Barthan, are you
willing to go after this thing?”

“Of course,” Barthan replied. “I am not concerned with
false prophets.”

“Just remember that he has not been wrong yet,” Valthyrra
reminded him.

“You have nothing to worry about,” Velmeran answered.
“They are going to drop out of starflight and abandon ship the moment you
show yourself. You will not have a chance to fire a shot.”

Barthan did not answer, since he was already moving in on the
freighter’s tail. The ship’s crew must have been aware of the
pursuit, but they did nothing to evade. Instead the big ship began to drop
speed quickly, falling out of starflight. That was the age-old gesture of
surrender, the crew offering the ship intact in exchange for their lives.
Barthan honored the request, falling back slightly from his attack position.
Taking a ship intact was a rare and welcome occurrence, but this once Barthan
regretted it. He disliked having to see Velmeran’s prediction prove true.

“They are giving up without a fight,” he reported. “Have
the capture ships move in.”

“No, let it sit!” Velmeran interrupted. “It is going to
explode if we try to move it.”

There followed a long, uneasy silence as Valthyrra considered that. The odds
were getting uncomfortably high against her now. Velmeran had called it twice
in a row on this ship, and it seemed logical to suppose that he really did know
what he was talking about. Logic also told her that he could not possibly know.
The unavoidable fact that she was ultimately a machine was to her disadvantage
in this matter. In the end she could trust only what she could see.

“Velmeran, I am not going to argue with you,” she decided at
last. “You have given your warning, and that is the limit of your
responsibility. I am bringing it in.”

“Now I know how Cassandra felt,” Velmeran muttered in disgust.

And, like Cassandra, he was ignored to the end. The crew and a fair number
of passengers had just escaped in a pair of launches, and now the
Methryn’s capture ships approached. Two of the curious machines moved in
to either side of the silent drive housing, unfolding their three pairs of
handling arms to lock themselves tight against the hull. Velmeran remained
close the entire time. Valthyrra might have relieved him of responsibility in
this matter, but his own conscience had not. The two capture ships, working in
unison, used their own engines to accelerate their burden gently back toward
the Methryn.

“Clear out!” Velmeran ordered suddenly. “That ship has a
sentient computer system, and it is waking up to carry out its final orders.
Get away from it now!”

His warning was no longer necessary, for every Starwolf inside the Methryn
and out could sense the main generators of the ship as they powered up. A
moment later the freighter fired its engines and began to fight the capture
ships for control. In spite of their best efforts to turn it away, the
freighter began to accelerate straight toward the Methryn.

“Get clear!” Valthyrra ordered. “Get away from that thing
so that I can blast it.”

The two capture ships needed no warning; their crews had begun the task of
casting loose the larger ship the moment they realized they could not control
it. One of the capture ships leaped clear immediately, but the second had only
just released its hold as the freighter came about to orient on the Methryn.
Pinned against the freighter, it slipped down the length of her hull, fending off
actual collision with its three pairs of handling arms. Suddenly it was brought
up short as one of its arms became firmly trapped in the open hatch of a launch
bay. The mechanical arm was too tightly pinned to pull free, and too powerfully
constructed to rip loose at its joints.

“Methryn, hold your fire!” the pilot of the capture ship called
frantically. “I have an arm caught in something. I cannot pull
free.”

“Valthyrra, keep your distance from the thing,” Velmeran
advised. “Try to get it to chase after you. Buy us time. Capture ship,
maneuver around to stretch that trapped arm out to its full length. Retract the
others out of the way, and stand ready to run.”

Velmeran darted in beside the massive drive housing of the freighter,
orienting on the relatively small shape of the pinned capture ship. As he
closed, he sighted on the outstretched arm that pinned the capture ship and
fired. Bolts from his fighter’s cannons bit into the hard metal of the
arm, blasting through in an explosion of superheated metal. Velmeran knew that
he had run out of time; the freighter had cut acceleration, which meant that it
was working its generators to a forced overload. The capture ship shot away as
the arm snapped and Velmeran circled around to follow. In the next instant the
freighter exploded with a force that would have shattered a small planet.

That blast of raw energy expanded outward in a fiery sphere, for an instant
assuming the size and brilliance of a star before it began to dissipate
rapidly. With nothing left to feed those flames, it was gone in almost the next
instant. The freighter itself had been vaporized in that blast, leaving only a
scorched capture ship still running under its own power, and the battered shell
of a single fighter. It tumbled end over end, its wings and fins ripped away
and its hull cracked and broken, so hot that twisted portions of it glowed dull
red.