Tryn and Schayressa stared at him in amazement.
“Well, you do know your business,” Tryn remarked. “Trace talked to us the moment it was over. He said that he was ‘just along for the ride,’ to use his own words, that a Maeken Kea is the Captain of this ship.”
Velmeran looked up at Valthyrra. “Maeken Kea?”
“A prominent fleet commander of this sector,” she explained. “She outmaneuvered a Starwolf attack force some time ago and actually forced them to withdraw. That probably impressed Don a great deal.”
Velmeran sat back in his chair, both sets of arms crossed, and sat for a long time in silent contemplation. “The problem with this Fortress, even if it did not have quartzite shielding, is that it is simply too big to make a run at the thing and expect to destroy it with regular cannons. Either we find a way to take it apart piece by piece without getting blasted in the process, or we find a way to get past its heavy shielding. What about simultaneous firing of conversion cannons from several ships?”
“That would work, but it would take a simultaneous firing of seven ships to overload that ship,” Schayressa replied. “But there is some hope for sequential firing. The Fortress can only maintain that shield for a few seconds. Two strikes at full power would bring it down, and a third strike would penetrate the quartzite shielding and destroy the ship. But you need three carriers for that.”
“Will a shielded fighter or missile penetrate that outer shield?”
“Oh, certainly. But you need a good, strong shield of your own to guard against being fried by the backwash of energy your ship is going to pick up by induction. But you have to have a thirty-five-megaton explosion directly against the hull to crack the quartzite shielding.”
“Then we are back to the starting point on that problem,” Velmeran said. “We really have no choice. We sit here and wait for another carrier to show up and help us with sequential firing.”
“Two more,” Schayressa corrected him. “I fried the conversion generator in my cannon when I fired it earlier, and nothing short of airdock repairs is going to make it operate again. I anticipated this and sent out the call for additional ships. The Karvand will be here in thirty-six hours, and the frighter Lesdryn twelve hours behind her. The freighters have the same forward battery and conversion cannon, even if they lack our armor.”
“Is this the only way to fight it?” Mayelna asked.
“No, not the only way.” Velmeran said, “We could probably go in and take it apart piece by piece. But lives would be lost and the Methryn would be half wrecked in the process. That is too high a price when we can deal with this matter easily in just two days.”
“I would rather not get my nose shot up if there is an easier way,” Valthyrra agreed.
“There still remains the problem of Tryalna,” Velmeran continued. “If we cannot go through that beast, at least our fighters can go around it. I would like…”
His voice died away into silence as he sat tensely, as if staring at something that no one else could see. He had the same unfocused look of a camera pod while the ship’s attention was elsewhere. For that matter, Valthyrra and Schayressa had the same distant look.
“What is it?” Tryn asked softly, afraid to disturb his concentration.
“The Challenger is moving toward Tryalna,” Velmeran answered. “Perhaps it means to turn its big cannons on planetary targets.”
Everyone paused to listen, although only Velmeran and Consherra had the superior senses to detect the droning of the Fortress’s powerful engines from this distance. Lenna sat looking about in complete bewilderment.
“Valthyrra, can you rush in to distract that ship before it moves into range?” Mayelna asked.
“Too late,” Schayressa said. “The Challenger carries an arsenal of nuclear weapons on missiles with crystal engines.”
Even as she spoke, the Challenger launched a single missile. Driven by a small but powerful engine, it accelerated rapidly for several seconds, then shut down and flipped itself over to prepare for detonation.
“Fifteen seconds to target,” Valthyrra reported. “The only way we could have stopped it would have been to have had fighters waiting in orbit.”
“What target?” Mayelna demanded.
No one answered. The missile decelerated for several seconds, then flipped itself back over and began to orient on its designated target. It hurtled into the atmosphere at impossible speeds, protected by an atmospheric shield that parted a narrow channel of fiery air just ahead of its nose, serving to slow it further.
“Detonation,” Valthyrra announced. “The target was the spaceport of a major industrial center. Since that was a relatively small warhead, the damage was restricted largely to the port itself… which was apparently evacuated at the time. Actual damage was minimal, and I suspect that there was very little loss of life.”
“But why?” Lenna demanded, pale and shaken.
“That seems obvious enough,” Velmeran answered bitterly. “Donalt Trace knows that I am here, and he will do whatever it takes to make me fight him. He will do it again and again until I do. He knows that I must.”
“There does not seem to be any choice,” Valthyrra agreed. “Any thoughts on the subject?”
Velmeran did indeed look very thoughtful. “The Fortress’s shields are dependent upon the tremendous energy generated by its power network. And the more generators we take off the grid, the weaker its combined power for shielding becomes. In theory, we can eventually weaken it to the point that it becomes vulnerable to our attack. Is that not so?”
“Indeed, it seems the only option we have,” Valthyrra replied. “If we do weaken it to such a point, which I calculate to be nine hundred and fifty-two guns remaining of its initial two thousand two hundred, then a single shot of my conversion cannon will short out its defensive shield.”
“That means that you have to shoot out twelve hundred and forty-eight,” Consherra observed. “Why so many?”
“Because most of the power for the shields comes from the larger generators in the engines and the ship itself, which are invulnerable to attack. My calculations are based on the assumption that no engines are shot out. Needless to say, you get more points for shooting out an engine.”
“And when you do shoot out a gun or an engine, you want it to stay that way,” Velmeran continued. “We have to take out that support convoy so that the Fortress cannot repair itself. And we have to get rid of those stingships so that we will be free to concentrate on the Fortress.”
“Needless to say, you can have our packs to assist you,” Tryn said. “And the bay crew and support personnel that goes with them. Is there anything else the Kalvyn can do?”
“Yes, you can set yourselves up near Tryalna to prevent retaliation from the invasion force and to intercept anything else that Donalt Trace might throw at it. He might not be so careful about his next target.”
“That leaves the Fortress itself,” Schayressa pointed out.
“I have one thought on that,” he said. “We still have to take it apart a piece at a time, but I know something that might make that easier. All we have to do is to get it to follow the Methryn into the debris ring of the fourth planet.”
There was a moment of silence as everyone tried to figure out what he could have in mind with such a plan. The ring of the fourth planet was well known, not for its beauty but as a curiosity. Most rings were thin disks of very small particles. But this planet possessed instead a thick band of heavy debris, large pieces of solid rock ranging in size from boulders to pieces as massive as small moons. A powerful static charge caused the pieces of rock to repel each other, maintaining a thickness of several hundred kilometers. Starwolf fighters often negotiated the ring as a game, but they were the only regular visitors.
“I am assuming that both our carriers and the Challenger have debris shields capable of clearing a path through the ring?” Velmeran asked.
“Yes, of course,” Valthyrra answered. “Do you think…”
Velmeran shrugged. “For all its hundreds of cannons, the Fortress would be very limited in range and accuracy trying to shoot through that mess. It would be slowed down to a crawl, and its scanners would be hopelessly confused by the static.”
“And the same would be true for me as well,” Valthyrra pointed out.
“No doubt. But our fighters can negotiate the ring with no problem and they can use the debris to shield their attacks. The Fortress is more vulnerable to attack there than in open space.”
“That is true, of course,” Valthyrra agreed. “But Donalt Trace may not be stupid enough to follow us into a trap.”
“He might be persuaded.”
The council of war ended soon. They had to move quickly, before Donalt Trace grew impatient and launched another warhead to prod them along, and there was still much to do. Those members of the Methryn’s crew who had no part to serve in actual battle were sent to the Kalvyn. Lenna accepted her order to join them with unusual grace. Perhaps she had enough of heavy G’s to understand why it was necessary.
Schayressa had known that the Methryn would need her own packs, as well as the bay crew members and service personnel to assist them. She also meant to send over her entire engineering and damage-control crew to help keep the Methryn in working order. Since very little of a carrier’s crew was designated as nonessential, Valthyrra found herself with eight hundred more crewmembers than she had to begin with; the Kalvyn, who was not going into battle, was the one to send away most of her crew. Denlayk and Keldryn were sent back to the Kalvyn to supervise the transfer of personnel, and Schayressa removed her presence to her own ship as soon as the discussion was over.
As soon as Velmeran declared their business concluded, Mayelna rose and hurried purposefully from the room as if she was needed somewhere else and was late already. Noting her hasty escape, Tryn ran after her.
“Mayelna, wait!” he called after her. She turned and waited for him a short distance down the corridor that led to her cabin.
“It has been a long time,” Tryn began questioningly, as if that was a substitute for what he actually wished to say.
Velmeran and Consherra paused at the door of the council room, already aware of something. Lenna, ignorant of what was said because she did not speak Tresdyland, hurried off on business of her own.
“Yes, it has been a long time,” Mayelna agreed after a moment’s pause. “Eighteen years, as you said. And we did not see that much of each other even then. We have never been able to see each other as often as we would wish. You have your ship and your responsibilities, and I have mine. And the paths of our ships cross only once in a great while.”
Tryn nodded slowly. “And when we part this time, will it be another eighteen years before we meet again? Our years are passing quickly now. We were not old the last time we were together, but now we are. Will one of us be gone before chance brings us back together again?”
“Tryn, there is no way that either of us could know,” Mayelna replied. “I cannot leave the Methryn to be with you. The way things have been these past two years, my responsibility to this ship is greater than ever. And I will not even ask you to leave the Kalvyn to be with me.”
“No, that is not possible,” he agreed regretfully.
“Then the only answer is that we must continue as we have, taking the time that is given to us, and hope that chance will be kinder to us in days to come,” Mayelna said, and smiled. “This much I can promise you. By the time we are finished here, we are going to have a matching pair of ships that are going to spend at least half a year in the repair docks together, longer than all the time that we have had together in all the years since we first met and loved. Then, when the time comes to part, we will treat it as our last, knowing that it may well be. And if we do meet again in years to come, then that will be chance’s gift to us.”
As if on cue, Valthyrra drifted around the corner at that moment when her name was mentioned, moving silently up behind Velmeran and Consherra. Having grown impatient with waiting in Mayelna’s office, she had sent her probe to investigate. Consherra reached out with one hand to hold her back.
“I often think of joining you here,” Tryn continued after a moment. “I always meant to. But then I went up to the bridge to stay, and there was no longer any question. And yet it was never because I did not love you enough. I hope you understand that.”
“I understand completely,” she assured him. “The same was true for me. Anyone else may change from ship to ship but not us. I am needed here. I could not have loved you more, but not even that was enough to break the bonds of responsibility that tie me to this ship.”
“And so there was never any hope for us?” Tryn asked.
“No, there never was,” Mayelna said, shaking her head sadly. “Perhaps it was foolish of us to even allow this to begin.”
Tryn reached out gently, almost cautiously, to take up her hand in his. Their reunion was one of reconciliation from the start, as if they must first apologize to each other and themselves for allowing the years to slip away while they remained apart.
“No, it was never foolish,” he insisted. “I have often felt frustrated by the circumstances of our union, but I have never regretted it. My only regret is that I cannot have you with me always.”
Maylena smiled, and it seemed to Velmeran that he had never seen his mother so happy. They took each other in their arms and kissed their reconciliation complete. With the shadows of the past laid aside, they could now look to what was and what may yet be.
“Mayelna, there is one thing that I must know,” Tryn said gently. “Is Velmeran my son?”
Mayelna stood silent for a long moment staring into his eyes as he held her tightly into his arms. Velmeran took a few hesitant steps in their direction, waiting for her reply. Consherra and Valthyrra remained where they were, forgotten for the moment, as they watched expectantly.
“Do you even need to ask?” Mayelna answered evasively. “Looking at the two of you together, can there be any doubt?”
“No, Mayelna. I want to hear you say it,” Tryn insisted. “You would never tell me before, and I have never pressed you. I cannot imagine that you would not want to admit that Velmeran is my son. Is there some reason that he should not know that I am his father?”
“No, of course not,” she said, turning away. “Is it really that important to you?”
“Yes, it is. I will not be parted from you again without hearing you say it. Please, tell me.”
She turned to him slowly, seeing the desire and need to know reflected in his eyes. Then she saw Velmeran, waiting quietly a few steps away, silently begging her to say it was true. Tears came suddenly to her eyes, and yet she smiled warmly. “Of course he is.”
For a moment Tryn and Velmeran stared at each other. Then Tryn turned to his son, smiling in warmth and reassurance as he held out a hand invitingly, and Velmeran hurried to join them. The three embraced quickly, in silence, then walked together down the empty hall to Mayelna’s cabin. Valthyrra, staring intently at the small group, began to drift after them. Consherra caught her by the base of the probe’s long neck and hauled her back.
“Not this time,” she hissed. “For once keep your nose out of it.”
“But she does not know that for a fact,” Valthyrra protested, turning her camera pod to look up at her captor.
“What does it matter?” Consherra demanded quietly. “They have what they believe, and what they want to believe. And that is all the truth they need.”
Valthyrra considered that, and her camera pod nodded in silent agreement as she turned for a final glimpse of the three. She wished them all the happiness they might find.
10
The transfer of crewmembers between the Methryn and the Kalvyn proceeded quickly and was completed in only two hours. Valthyrra shed all the weight she had to spare, such as over a hundred tons of refined ores and other raw materials in her holds. For the same reason, she did not send out her distillation ship to collect pi
eces of drifting ice to replenish the supply of water she carried as fuel. Her tanks were only a quarter full, but she considered that more than adequate. Converted to pure energy, a little water actually went a very long way, even when feeding a carrier’s big engines.
Velmeran hoped to buy himself an extra hour or two by having the Methryn move forward in steps, edging cautiously into system and then pausing for final preparations. An important question in his mind was whether or not Trace knew that sequential firing of conversion cannons would destroy his ship. If so, he knew that he had to fight and defeat the Methryn before more carriers showed up. The other question was why he had not used the same tactic to force the Kalvyn back into battle and destroy her while he had the chance, before the Methryn had time to arrive.
And so the Methryn began her leisurely run into system. There were twenty packs, nearly two hundred fighters, standing free on her decks in the landing and storage bays as large accessory cannons were being mounted to the undersides of their hulls. Other work was progressing as well, including the erection of a slender tripod on wandlike legs a hundred meters above her upper hull.
The Methryn’s bridge, as large as it was, needed to be twice as big to accommodate all the people who had business there. So it seemed to Mayelna, who seemed to have some trouble trying to follow six other conversations at the same time. At that moment Velmeran marched onto the bridge from the right lift corridor. He had been from the bridge to various parts of the ship and back again so many times that on his last visit, hardly ten minutes earlier, Valthyrra had teased him for simply riding the lift for fun.
“Is everything ready?” he asked as he approached Mayelna and Valthyrra, waiting at the base of the steps leading to the middle bridge.
“It will be,” Valthyrra answered simply.
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