The Starwolves

by Thorarinn Gunnarsson

  "Valthyrra Methryn, do you have packs out yet?" he asked a final time.

  "Two packs just moved into starflight and can reenforce your pilots in perhaps two minutes," Valthyrra responded. "Another two packs can be there within another minute."

  "Listen. I am going to try to get this second group of warships out of starflight before they join the first," Velmeran explained quickly. "We will have a greater advantage if we can keep them apart. Send these two packs to reenforce me. Send the next two to relieve the packs already in battle."

  "Anything you say," she agreed. "Meran, that first group is driving directly at me."

  "Do you prefer to reenforce the pilots there and stop it?"

  "No, I can fend for myself if anything comes through. I need the practice. Barman. Shayrn. Take your packs and reenforce Velmeran's position."

  "We are on it," Barman agreed.

  On board the Methryn, Valthyrra moved the standby alert up to full battle alert. Crewmembers looked up apprehensively from their stations or paused in her corridors, awaiting orders. The Methryn had not gone into battle in many long years, for most not even in their lifetimes. They had played out this alert in test runs so often that the reality was something of a shock. But the ship was to be protected at any cost and no one dared to cross a Starwolf carrier. And yet for some, those who tended the machines or sorted supplies or taught the young, it was the first time in many years that they had felt like real Starwolves.

  "All crewmembers stand by," Valthyrra announced through her maze of corridors and many decks. "This is a class one battle alert. All on-duty personnel to their posts. All damage control parties stand by. All nonactive personnel will remove to the inner sections."

  "That second fleet just left starflight to fight," Velmeran reported. "We need reenforcements. Baressa and I are up to our... necks in stingships."

  "You can have two packs in two minutes," she assured him. "Can you hold on?"

  "Do we have any choice?"

  "No," Valthyrra said. "We will have matters well in hand shortly."

  Velmeran paid her excuses little mind. He was getting tired of excuses, and at the moment he was too busy to care. He had not exaggerated; three fighters among all those stingships were simply too few targets for too many guns. Stingship cannons were powerful but slow to fix on target. By keeping close in, they were not allowed the time they needed to get off a good shot. Indeed, the stingships had to be careful to avoid shooting or even ramming each other.

  The two packs had been left to their own designs for several minutes now, and they were finally bringing their own part to an end. Of the original fleet there remained only a battleship and two destroyers as well as several tenders and transports, themselves no threat but a considerable nuisance. The Methryn was still closing, now so close that her viewscreens were picking up cannon flashes. The battleship suddenly cut from the main group, driving directly at the Methryn, while the rest continued at a right angle to her approach.

  "Go clear up whatever might be left," Valthyrra told the pilots when she saw them circle back to give chase. "I will take care of this one."

  Mayelna glanced up from her screens. "Do you know what you are doing?"

  "I should certainly hope so!" the ship replied indignantly as she swung her boom around to the helm and weapons stations on the middle bridge. "Cargin, I will operate the cannons. Consherra, stand by with your hands on the manual controls in the event something happens." She glanced around. "Do I know what I am doing? Do you think me a tottering wreck?"

  "You are getting a little old," Mayelna commented as she sat back to watch, seemingly disinterested.

  "Old?" Valthyrra asked incredulously. "Now I feel obliged, just to prove that I am still a very alert and capable fighting ship. Indeed!"

  "Then shut up and do it."

  Valthyrra quickly launched the two packs that stood ready in her bays and immediately brought in her carrier arms to remove the empty racks to make way for another pack. At the same time she prepared a single cannon for only one shot.

  "Watch your controls. Consherra, stand ready," she warned, and glanced up at her main screens. "Ramming speed!"

  Mayelna rolled her eyes and sighed heavily.

  The Methryn fired one bolt directly into the nose of the approaching warship. In spite of the distance that remained between them, it caught the battleship dead center on her bridge, slightly below where her own viewscreens would have been. Content, Valthyrra cut speed and waited. Nothing seemed to happen at first. But with her main computer destroyed, the various systems aboard the smaller ship began to shut down, leaving her to drift helplessly. The crew might have restarted her easily enough, but they had already learned the futility in that. They began to evacuate her in launches and transports, leaving the ship itself like a token of appeasement to their conquerors.

  "Simple, but effective," Valthyrra remarked smugly as the first launch cleared its bay.

  "Why, you greedy old fool!" Mayelna exclaimed. "You want to capture as many of those ships as you can so that you can sell them back at a profit."

  "Not me!" Valthyrra insisted, rotating her cameras around. "First you question my abilities, and then my motives. Actually, I want those ships so that I can sell them to non-Union colonies."

  "Valthyrra?" Velmeran called in suddenly. "Those two packs have arrived and have matters well in hand. Baressa and I are on our way back to our own packs."

  "Very good," Valthyrra acknowledged. "Two more packs will join you about as soon as you can get there. The rest will close up matters with that second fleet."

  "Fair enough."

  "You close up things out there," Valthyrra added quickly, ignoring Mayehia's look of protest. "But go ahead and get your pack out of the fight as soon as possible. You have done more than you should already."

  "No problem."

  "And why did you do that?" the Commander demanded as Valthyrra extended her camera well back into the upper bridge for privacy.

  "Velmeran has had things well under control from the first; he should be allowed to finish," she said firmly. "Besides, he is going to want answers to a great many questions the moment he comes on board. And the fact is that I do not have all the answers myself. The battle is nearly over, but the trouble has just started."

  Velmeran and Baressa were the first to lead their packs in, even though it was some time after the fighting stopped before they found the opportunity to do so. Chance had cast Velmeran in the role of leader, which everyone but he seemed to recognize and yet no one questioned. Although the Commander had remained silent, Valthyrra was deferring to his judgment. No one dared to question the situation. The other pilots had been late when they were needed, and had failed in their duty. They were in no position to protest.

  The end of the battle saw the beginning of a process that was longer, more complicated and potentially as dangerous. Every usable part of the two wrecked fleets had to be collected, secured and brought in. Damaged ships were drifting over an area from the fourth to the seventh planet of the system, and to complicate matters, the survivors of the Union fleets were still in the early stages of what promised to be a very slow retreat. Hundreds of launches, escape modules and a fair number of tenders were heading back to base as best they could. Predictably, nothing moved out of the station to assist them.

  The Starwolves had fared well enough for what had proven to be a major battle. Aside from their one captured fighter and pilot, they had no damage and no injuries – except for their wounded pride. Having been taught a harsh lesson, they carefully scanned each ship, fragment of ship and piece of machinery before it was brought back to the Methryn. Disabled but intact ships were the largest item, more than the Methryn could possibly carry away. A cartier, four of the six battleships and nine destroyers – as well as the freighter – were in good enough condition to be saved as they were, refitted with spare drives and other parts from ships that had not survived.

  Even so, the task of salvage would not take long.
Usable ships were identified and carried out of the way. Drives and generators were simply cut free of the wrecks and welded together in stacks for storage in the smaller bays (the ships themselves went last into the Methryn's two main bays). A final concern was the fair number of captives, nearly a thousand in all, who were found trapped or stranded in disabled ships. Every drifting stingship had a crew of five who had no means of escape. The Starwolves ordinarily collected ransom of stray crewmembers, but this was simply too much and the Methryn was in a hurry. The captives were loaded into three stripped destroyers and given a firm push in-system by the capture ships.

  Velmeran could see the captured freighter being edged into the right holding bay as he began his approach. She was even larger than the battleships, and yet she looked insignificant againt the Methryn's vast, sleek shape. Nearly four hours had passed since he had led his pack out of the bay, although most of that time had been spent just drifting through the wreckage, alert for trouble. But that was still too long in the fighters. His pilots needed to go home. But there would be no rest for him, not until he did whatever was needed to free his missing packmember.

  "Welcome back, Pack Leader Velmeran," Valthyrra said with odd formality as he began his final approach. "Please allow me to extend both my appreciation and gratitude for the skill and efficiency that you and your pilots have demonstrated. I can imagine how tired you must be, but I might suggest that you had better be alert for the difficulties ahead."

  Velmeran did indeed sit up straight. Valthyrra's warnings did not come much plainer than that. "Oh? Does one of my difficulties have a name?"

  "Yes, and she would throw my circuit breakers if she were to hear me mention it aloud."

  "My regards to the Commander."

  "You guessed it!"

  Velmeran turned a final time and moved in beneath the Methryn's tail, just beneath her star drives, braking gently with his forward engines to match speed with the larger ship. The packs came in according to how they flew in formation; the leader first, always in the middle, then the others moving alternately outward one step down the wing. He brought his ship through the wide, low slot of the bay door, blinking in the sudden light of the bay, bringing his fighter to the forward portion of the flight deck before gently setting down. Bay personnel rushed forward before he could get the engines and generator completely shut down.

  Fighters were generally put into their racks immediately, for any unsecured fighter could be thrown across the bay like a projectile if the ship made a sudden turn. The rack was dropped down and slid into place behind, and the carrier arms lifted the fighter up and set it into place. Benthoran pushed the boarding ramp into place and climbed up to assist Velmeran, who had managed to do little except open his cockpit and pull off his helmet. The crew chief began unstrapping him, while another crewmember went to work on the other side.

  "Welcome back, Captain," Benthoran said. "All well?"

  "Nearly. We lost Keth," Velmeran said, then noticed the startled looks from both. "We misplaced him. He rammed a carrier and got stuck inside her, and she escaped out of system."

  "Old fool!" Benthoran muttered as he snapped down the overhead supports.

  Velmeran did not answer as he lifted himself out of the cockpit. He stood for a moment holding the frame of the rack for support, wishing that he had as many legs as arms, and paused, noticing for the first time the figure in white armor waiting in front of his fighter. He straightened and descended the steps with all the grace he could muster, hoping he would not fall. He was saved from embarrassment by Steena, whose arrival gave him an excuse to stand and watch.

  "Play no games with me, Pack Leader Velmeran," Consherra said as she came to assist him.

  "And what are you doing here?" he asked. "Am I in that much trouble?"

  "You are not in trouble," Consherra said firmly. "Indeed, you are about the only one who is not."

  "I did lose Keth," he pointed out.

  "Keth is a problem of his own making."

  Velmeran did not reply, for he was beginning to grow concerned about the incoming fighter. It was Tregloran's, to judge by its engine pitch, and he seemed destined to repeat a past mistake, for he was coming in quickly with his landing gear up.

  "Treg, remember your landing gear," Velmeran said to himself. But Tregloran continued his approach, heedless of crewmembers waving their arms. He entered the bay and moved unerringly to his place in line. Then he hovered, a long moment suspended out of time, and his landing gear folded down. The little ship settled to the deck with almost contemptuous gentleness, hardly flexing its struts.

  "At least I am spared that disaster," Velmeran remarked as he continued on toward the lift, leaving Consherra to hurry after him. "Now, you tell me what happened to the support we needed. And no excuses."

  "Excuses?" Consherra asked. "Is that why you think I am here?"

  "Why are you here?" he asked in return. "Either Valthyrra or Mayelna sent you."

  "Valthyrra did suggest that I come, although I was happy to do it," she said, somewhat defensively. "I am here to help you, so you listen to me. Mayelna has called an immediate council to decide what we should do about Keth. We have no time to lose and you had better know how matters stand before we get there. No one is going to blame you for losing Keth. Right now, the big question is why eight packs were fifteen minutes getting clear."

  "Fifteen minutes!"

  "Yes, fifteen. I am sure that it seemed like an hour to you, since things were rather busy at your end. But that is still three times longer than it was supposed to take. To put it simply, no one took matters seriously until it was too late. Valthyrra put out an attack alert at your first warning. But most of the pilots took their time getting to the bays and quite a few, including five pack leaders, ignored the alert until it was repeated for the third time."

  "How could they..."

  "As I understand it, too many people got the idea that the freighter you were chasing turned out to be a battleship, and that your students were frightened. They thought that Baressa's pack could handle the matter, and that the alert would pass before they got to the bays. The pack leaders kept calling up to the bridge, asking if they really had to bestir themselves. Valthyrra roasted their ears with a few choice words, put every pilot and crewmember not in armor on probation and threatened suspension for everyone not at their ships or stations in five minutes."

  "Then it was not just the pilots?" Velmeran asked.

  "No, but it was the worst among the pilots," Consherra said, pausing a moment to press the call button for the lift. "Valthyrra remarked that she has had trouble getting her packs out before, for a variety of reasons, but never laziness. She said that perhaps we do not fight often enough."

  "That sounds like something Valthyrra would say," Velmeran remarked. The lift doors snapped open and they stepped inside. "She may be right."

  "You, at least, have nothing to worry about," Consherra repeated as she set the controls for their destination. "You have managed to impress all the powers that be... even the Commander, although she is not likely to admit it."

  "Do not make me out to be the hero of this battle," Velmeran exclaimed. "I did nothing special."

  "You most certainly did."

  "Then I was too busy to notice."

  "That is exactly the point," Consherra insisted. "You led the attack. You made all the important decisions, while we were all too busy trying to figure out what was going on. Baressa was senior pack leader out there, by more than a hundred years, and she deferred to your leadership."

  Velmeran did not know how to answer that, for it suddenly occurred to him that she was right. Then a very different thought came to mind. "This has not been Mayelna's day."

  Consherra frowned. "Your mother is taking this hard. We all knew that Keth was too old to fly. Mayelna is nearly as old herself, and she has been thinking for some time about naming her Commander-designate."

  Velmeran considered that and nodded thoughtfully. "And the Commander-designate h
as to be named from among the pack leaders. And I doubt that there is anyone she would choose, especially after today."

  "That is the problem," Consherra explained. "That decision belongs to Valthyrra, not her. And Valthyrra has already indicated her choice. But Mayelna has delayed in naming the new Commander-designate."

  "Mayelna disapproves of Valthyrra's choice?" Velmeran asked, and shrugged. "Who would suit her?"

  The Council Room behind the bridge was nearly empty, since most of the pack leaders and officers were away. Mayelna sat at the head of the oval table at the bottom of the audience pit, watching the screen mounted in the table before her. Valthyrra was trying to peer over her shoulder, although her angle of attack made that difficult. She was operating a camera boom mounted overhead, above the very center of the table, but not so long or mobile as the main camera boom on the bridge. Of the major officers, only Cargin, the weapons director, Veyndayk of cargo and salvage and the engineering officer Tresha were present. The gallery was empty of onlookers; this was not a safe place to be just now, for those who had any choice.

  Velmeran and Consherra descended the steps to the council floor, moving carefully because of their armor. Valthyrra looked up immediately, and after a moment Mayelna put the monitor on hold and glanced up. Velmeran did not much like the way she looked him up and down as if checking for dents in his armor. Apparently satisfied with her inspection, she sat back.

  "Welcome back, Meran," she said. "I feel obliged to tell you that you did very well, especially under the circumstances."

  "Even if so much trouble came of it?" he asked.

  "Even so. Her Worship is so pleased with herself that she is likely to burst the seams in her hull, and Veyndayk is dreaming of the loot we are going to collect on pillage. And while I am hardly pleased by it, I am glad to know that we have personnel problems..."

  "Laziness!" Valthyrra inserted.