Dreadnought (30 page)

“No
danger to the drives?” Gelrayen asked.

“None.
If we actually do get into starflight, that is. After that, my only concern is
for what happens next. I believe that I have some feel for the way the
Dreadnought behaves, and I wish to continue my mission. That will depend upon
whether the Great Powers are pleased with my performance so far, or if they see
only my mistakes. And if they have four new main drives to give me any time
soon.”

“Finding
parts for you will be the only problem,” the Commander assured her. “There is
no question about whether or not you deserve them.”

Captain
Tarrel said nothing, but she knew how unpredictable the Great Powers could be.
She remembered how reluctant they had been to allow the Methryn to go out the
first time, when actual battle had not been the purpose of her mission. No
matter what they thought of her performance, she still might find herself passed
over in favor of more experienced ships. Although Tarrel would not mention it
aloud, she even wondered if the Methryn, rather than receive the repairs she
needed, might find herself stripped of useful parts to keep some of the older
carriers flying. Valthyrra might very well be going back into the construction
bay for months, or even years.

For
her own part, she suspected that she would be watching the next stage of this
battle from the bridge of yet another ship. She even had to admit that it
probably would be best for the Methryn if she did have to wait out the rest of
the battle with the Dreadnought. She knew that it was largely a sentimental
response on her own part, that she wanted to see this young carrier get her
chance to fight. If she was asked, Tarrel certainly intended to testify that
Valthyrra had proven herself quite clever and resourceful enough to have earned
special consideration.

The
trouble was that the Methryn had learned more than anyone had really expected,
but still less than they needed to know. She had proven that the Dreadnought
could be fought and even hurt, but even her brief scan during the moment that
the alien weapon’s shield had been down had not revealed any great secrets. The
ship continued to defy any interior scans, and little enough could be inferred
from the limited exterior view. If Valthyrra had been going home with a clear
idea of how to destroy the Dreadnought, those same Great Powers would find it
harder to deny her.

“I
am sitting at threshold,” Valthyrra announced soon enough. “Shall I attempt the
transition into starflight?”

“When
you feel ready,” Gelrayen told her.

“Ready
to engage star drives,” she warned the bridge crew. “Stand by all manual
controls.”

As
it happened, the only failure that was likely to require any member of the
bridge crew to intercede with manual controls was the failure of Valthyrra
herself, and that was extremely unlikely to happen for any reason except for
complete power loss. The star drives began to phase very smoothly, especially
so because they were slow to develop even the limited power available to them;
so gentle, in fact, that it seemed for a moment that the carrier might even
fail to pass threshold. Once she was in starflight, she continued to build
speed at a leisurely but steady pace.

“I
am settled into starflight to stay,” Valthyrra announced. “My drives might be
weak, but they remain responsive. I will continue to build to my best cruising
speed as things are before I try tampering with the star drives to boost their
efficiency.” “Commander?” Kayendel asked; she was one of several crewmembers
looking over their shoulders.

Gelrayen
looked up at the camera pod. “Val?”

She
knew what the game was, and she was eager enough to play along. “I really do
not want any of those monitors or manual controls unsupervised for even a
moment until I am settled into my best possible speed and we all feel certain
that nothing will go wrong. Say, another ten hours? I hope that no one minds
taking such a long watch without interruption.”

“We
should be comfortable,” Kayendel remarked sourly as she turned back to her
monitors.

Gelrayen
was looking so amused, Captain Tarrel decided that it was time to take a part
in their little game for herself. “Valthyrra, I have been thinking.”

The
camera pod turned toward her. “You do it well.”

“You
know, I have been very uncomfortable with the temperature aboard this ship
since I first came aboard.” As a matter of fact, she really did not mind it
much at all. “It occurred to me that part of the reason you have to keep it so
cold is so that Kelvessan can wear clothes that, as you pointed out earlier,
they hardly need. If none of the Starwolves aboard this ship wore their
clothes, you could move up the temperatures to a level that I would find more
comfortable.”

“Yes,
that sounds very reasonable.” Valthyrra turned her camera pod to Gelrayen, who
was looking very surprised by that time. “Commander, it would be very
hospitable of us if we made that suggestion a standing order.”

Watching
Gelrayen try to explain his way out of that one proved to be very entertaining.

Valthyrra
had to fuss over her ailing star drives every step of the way, but she managed
to bring herself home on her earliest projected schedule of nine days and was
still able to avoid damaging herself in the process. When she finally dropped
out of starflight well inside the Alkayja system, she was not the only one to
feel extremely relieved to have actually made it. She transferred full power to
her two remaining forward drives, struggling to cut her tremendous speed with
only half the thrust that should have been available to her.

She
had, of course, sent her full report on ahead to Alkayja by a tight-beam
achronic message as soon as she had escaped from the Dreadnought, a week and a
half earlier. Nothing that she had to say would come as a surprise, but Fleet
Commander Asandi and his associates were still awaiting direct reports and
observations, not only from her but Commander Gelrayen and Captain Tarrel as
well. In fact, Asandi was in communication with the Methryn as soon as he was
told that she was in system.

“Commander
Gelrayen, your ship seems to have done quite well for herself, ” Asandi began
enthusiastically. “We will try to have a construction bay ready for you as soon
as you can get here. I’m afraid that we are still working on getting all the
replacement parts she needs, however.”

“Thank
you, Commander,” Gelrayen responded, standing over Captain Tarrel’s seat as he
used the com on the upper bridge. If Valthyrra Methryn was very much in favor
with Commander Asandi himself, that served as a good indicator about her
future.

“It
seems a shame to have had our newest carrier damaged on her first flight, but
we expected that,” Asandi continued, then paused. “Commander, why are all the
members of your crew naked? Not that it really matters to me, of course. That
is entirely your own business.”

“Val,
this was supposed to be audio only,” Gelrayen complained softly as he realizing
that the ship must be supplying a visual image through her own camera pod.
“Well, yes Commander. That was Valthyrra’s suggestion actually. We are keeping
portions of the ship warmer than usual, for Captain Tarrel’s comfort.”

“Very
considerate, especially considering that we supplied her with self-warming
clothing before the Methym departed,” Asandi observed, seeming to realize that
someone had been having a little joke at the expense of the Starwolves, known
for their unfortunate tendency to be a little too gullible. “We will be having
a quick meeting to discuss your observations as soon as you can secure the
Methryn in her bay. I might add that most of us do plan to dress for the
occasion. I will see you soon.”

“Thank
you, Commander,” Gelrayen replied, then glared at the camera pod. “Valthyrra
Methryn, I was worried enough about our credibility as it was.”

“Commander,
I never honestly expected you to go along with that silly idea in the first
place,” Valthyrra told him. “You could have simply said no.”

Actually,
Valthyrra knew perfectly well that it was entirely her own fault. She had never
taken advantage of anyone in her life, even as a jest, and she had found it
impossible to resist. Digging into her vast archives of information, she had
been able to tell Gelrayen that the Kelvessan had not been allowed to wear
clothing, except for their armor, for the first five thousand years of their
existence, a time when nudity had been a sign of their status as the property
of the Republic as an artificial race. They had gotten into the habit of
wearing clothes, and then only when it pleased them, simply because they were
now allowed to. No member of the Methryn’s crew had thought to ask what
relevance that had to the present situation. Being motivated by an instinct to
be helpful, they had gone along with the scheme.

For
her own part, Captain Tarrel had done nothing to interfere. She was not
entirely certain, but she believed that it had been good for them. Of the few
known intelligent races, only humans and Kelvessan were in the habit of wearing
clothes. The Kelvessan had no racial identity beyond the rather uncomfortable
association of being an artificial race—property and genetic weapons of war but
not real people—and they were very good at avoiding the question of what their
true identity should be. As long as they could hide their alien and yet vaguely
human forms in clothes, then they were able to wrap themselves in the illusion
that they were in some obscure manner mostly human. Forcing them to look at
themselves, in the collective sense and meaning no vulgar innuendoes that did
not apply, also seemed to force them to think about just what it meant to be
Kelvessan.

Captain
Tarrel had various reasons to be interested in this experiment, enough so that
she had actually spoken privately with Valthyrra Methryn on the matter. Whether
they knew it or not, the Kelvessan wanted a racial identity of their own. And
if they came to feel secure and satisfied as a race in their own right, they
probably would lose interest in maintaining the endless war that they had been
bred to fight. Either they would go their own way and leave human space to deal
with itself, or they would contrive a quick end to the war on terms they would
be prepared to enforce. Whichever way things turned out, Tarrel believed that
it would be best for everyone involved.

Valthyrra
had agreed that it did the Kelvessan good to face such questions, but she
doubted that they would come to any sudden answers, although she did agree that
beginning the process now would help them to work their way slowly toward a
solution over the next few generations. As she pointed out, the real problem
that the Kelvessan faced was only of physical appearance; the fact that they
still looked vaguely human kept them trapped in the illusion that they needed
to act human. The Aldessan of Valtrys, who had executed their actual genetic
design, had done them no favor in failing to make their appearance alien and
unique enough to differentiate them. Valthyrra was even prepared to suggest
that they would be well served by some additional genetic modifications that
would be passed through their entire race over the next few generations and
slowly alter their appearance, perhaps changing the complete shape of their
faces and giving them a full coat of fur.

The
Methryn was assigned a construction bay, the very same where she had spent the
first six decades of her existence. Once she had dropped her great speed coming
down from starflight and had installed herself in orbit, getting herself back
inside the bay was simple enough. Such maneuvers were accomplished entirely on
field drive, and that was her one function that was not impaired. Valthyrra
settled herself into the docking brackets quickly and deftly.

“Secure
the ship, and stand by to switch over to external power as soon as the
connections are complete,” Gelrayen ordered, then glanced up at the camera pod
with a sour expression.

“You
might also decrease the ship’s temperature to the normal levels and ask the
crew to dress for company.”

“Perhaps
they should,” Valthyrra agreed grudgingly. Captain Tarrel accompanied Commander
Gelrayen and Valthyrra Methryn into the station only a few minutes later,
giving them all just enough time to dress for the occasion. For the sake of
convenience, Valthyrra had transferred one aspect of her awareness into a
probe, one of the small remotes just like the one that had gone outside the
ship with Captain Tarrel in the hopeless attempt to stop Walter Pesca from
detonating the missile he had stolen. Valthyrra kept the small machine’s wings
fully swept back, making it less cumbersome in the corridors of the station.

Fleet
Commander Asandi was waiting for them outside the meeting room, where the
Commanders of the other carriers in system and many other Kelvessan had begun
to gather as soon as the Methryn had arrived. “Captain Tarrel, I cannot tell you
how sorry I am about your young companion.”

“It
was entirely my own fault,” she insisted. “I should have been more aware of his
condition, but my thoughts were on other problems. I knew that he was having
trouble, but I never realized how much.”

“Well,
we do appreciate what you have done for us,” Asandi assured her. “Valthyrra, I
still feel very bad about asking you to go out and risk such damage on your
first flight.”

“It
is my job,” the ship replied simply.

“I
will get you replacement components as soon as they become available,” he
promised her. “Commander Gelrayen, I hardly recognized you.”

Kelvessan
did not blush, but Gelrayen still managed to look embarrassed. “That was
actually Valthyrra’s idea.”

“And
a long story, no doubt. Perhaps it can wait until after this meeting is
concluded.”

They
were hurried into the meeting room and took their seats; Valthyrra settled her
probe on the arms of her own chair, having observed that the remotes sent by
several of the other ships had done the same. Captain Tarrel was led to wonder
about this apparent change of policy, since none of the ships had themselves
been present at any meetings during her previous visit to Alkayja station.
Valthyrra began the discussion with a detailed account of her own experiences
with the Dreadnought, concluding with a display of the single image of the
machine that she had captured when it had lost its shield.