The tunnel lights came back up, illuminating a narrow access tube leading away into an indeterminate distance. Velmeran eased his fighter forward, accelerating to about half the speed that they had been maintaining through the tunnels. He knew that he was most likely heading into a trap, but he still had to go.
Commander Trace stood at the far end of the observation deck, its wide bank of windows looking out across a large bay that was dark and empty except for a single abandoned Starwolf fighter. Velmeran entered the observation deck cautiously, protected from harm by the heavy armor of the suit he wore, the black of the regular pilots rather than his usual white so that he would not be singled out. For the moment, he wore even his helmet, his gun belt strapped to his waist, until he was more certain of the peaceful intentions behind this meeting.
Donalt Trace was the largest human that Velmeran had ever met, still as tall and straight as the last time they had met two decades past. He was becoming an old man now, yet his appearance did not greatly convey that fact. The features of his face were heavier, his hair beginning to gray. Yet the years had given him a far greater presence than before, a maturity and experience that lent him a sense of tremendous nobility, and of danger. He seemed almost like a statue, larger than life, immobile and impervious to harm, and at the same time possessing the hidden tenseness of a tightly-coiled spring.
He had in many ways become the man he had wanted to be, merged with the worst that Velmeran had feared he would become.
“You have nothing to fear from me,” he said. “I am alone and unarmed. It suits my plans for the moment just to talk with you.”
“I wanted to be sure,” Velmeran said as he released the throat clips and removed his helmet.
Trace seemed even more surprised by the Kelvessan who stood before him, staring for a moment of open amazement before he mastered himself. “So, you have not changed at all. I knew logically that you would not. You Starwolves live for so long that twenty years out of your young life must be nothing to you. Yet seeing you here, looking exactly as you did then, it makes all of those years between us evaporate as if they had never been.”
“Talk to me, Trace,” Velmeran said. “Tell me what was so important that it required this. I have things to do.”
“Oh, I imagine that you do,” Trace said almost eagerly, taking a step forward. “Perhaps you do not yet know just how much you have to do.
“It’s all very simple, don’t you see,” Trace continued as he turned to look out the window, drawing his arms inside the long, heavy cape he wore. “We’ve made the same mistake since the start. We build some new weapon or invent some new tactic, and then we send it out against you to see if it will work. Often it does work, once or twice, but then you find some new way to deal with it and we are right back where we started. I’ve made that mistake with you a few times myself, but then I understood. I’ve learned to save my tricks for when they will do the most good.”
He glanced at Velmeran then, a pleased and knowing look like someone who has understood the magician’s tricks. “That was the answer, you see. I had always wondered how a handful of Starwolves could always defeat us, with all the vast resources and manpower that the Union has. That is because everything about you, the design of your ships and the way that you operate is designed for maximum efficiency, to be where you are needed and to be ready for anything on a moment’s notice. We’ve tried to beat you at your own game, and we always loose. I’ve tried to beat you at my game, and again I lose.
“So then I sat myself down and thought about it.” He paused a moment, and laughed to himself. “Hell, I was flat on my back, recovering from my last little meeting with you. But I had that hand of yours, you see. I had the ability to make Starwolves of my own. And I was determined that this time it was not going to be a simple exercise in futility, that this time I was not going to allow you the chance to find a way to defeat my newest weapon. I was going to save it until I could use it to the most good.”
He turned back to Velmeran, his voice becoming fierce and harsh. “That is the trick, you see. The way to defeat Starwolves, I realized, was to simply give them too much to handle all at once, more than they can manage. Then those petty bureaucrats from your Republic approached us secretly, wanting to talk peace. We never thought for a minute that the Starwolves would surrender under any terms short of their own, but the opportunity to make trouble for the great Commander Velmeran was too great. Oh yes, we would gladly have an honorable peace with the Republic, but those trouble-making Kelvessan would have to go. We demanded your surrender and elimination, or at the very least your exile from Republic support.”
He turned away, his arms crossed as he began to pace. It seemed that he was very obviously trying to maintain his distance from Velmeran, but not out of fear. “I got all I could have asked from those negotiations. Now the Starwolves are estranged from their own government, from their main source of maintenance and supplies. I’ve left you with enemies on both sides, in front as well as behind. And now I know the location of the home worlds of the Starwolves.”
He turned to Velmeran, standing behind the short desk to one side of the communications console, his powerful arms braced on its surface. His stance was dominating, almost predatory. “Where are the Mock Starwolves, Commander Velmeran? That question must be very much on your mind just now. They are on their way to Alkayja right now, in the company of ten Fortresses and a fleet of battleships and troop transports. Their mission is to destroy your great base and devastate all Republic worlds. The Starwolves will be exiles indeed, with no place to call home. No place to retreat for supplies and repairs as the Mock Starwolves begin to chase them out of the stars. And it is too late for you to do anything to stop it. In seven days, they are to attack.”
Velmeran tried very hard not to show his surprise and dismay, but he had not considered this turn of events. He had not believed that President Delike and the other traitors would have even considered giving away the secret of their exact location, their one remaining defense after they had exiled the Starwolves. Velmeran needed to kill this man and get back to the Methryn, and every minute was precious. But Trace was obviously not finished, and he had to know the worst.
“Diverting you here at just the right time was the next phase of my plan,” Trace continued as he resumed his slow pacing, watching the Starwolf half over his shoulder. “It kept you distracted from solving your problems at home, and from being there to meet my invasion force when it reaches Alkayja. None of your carriers will be there, since they are currently outlawed.”
He paused, watching Velmeran closely. “Is that complicated enough for you? It gets worse, and this time I have you to thank. You see, I am perfectly aware of your mission to find lost Terra. We found it some two thousand years ago. Of course, we knew that we could not hold it against you, and the best solution was for us to largely forget that it existed. Then those troublesome Feldenneh found it, and they had a colony established before anyone who knew better could stop them. But we watch them more closely than they are aware. We have a secret spy planted right in the middle of them. He is under orders to kill your own little spy at the proper moment. And to make matters even more interesting, there is a fleet of nine Fortresses on the way there at this very moment, with orders to hold the planet or to destroy it.
“So now what do you do, Commander Velmeran? Do you try to save your home worlds, knowing it is too late, or do you try to save Terra against impossible odds?” He brought his fist down on the table with force enough to crack its top. “Damn you, Starwolf! Don’t you know that it was your own kind that has kept this war alive for an impossibly long time? You would have had peace under your own terms if you had just left us alone long enough. Dictatorships do not exist in a vacuum of peace. It would have been to our advantage to end the monopolies, open trade, and free settlement. Take that thought with you into hell.”
He suddenly drew a large gun out from beneath the heavy folds of his dark cape, a move that was quick and pr
ecise beyond human responses. Velmeran had not identified the weapon, for it possessed no power sources for him to sense, no crystals singing as they focused energy. A burst of flame erupted from the muzzle of the gun, and a thunderous crack. No handheld weapon could have produced a bolt powerful enough to harm Starwolf armor, but this used none. The armor-piercing bullet crashed through the armor below Velmeran’s upper left shoulder, knocking him backward to crash heavily against the cold floor. Trace’s arm had remained rock steady through the powerful shot, held by unnatural strength.
“And now the last part of my plan,” he said softly, as if to himself, as he laid aside the hot, smoking gun on the desk. “The finishing stroke of this whole complicated affair, for the Great Commander Velmeran will not be there to untie the knot and make the impossible happen.”
He paused to stand for a moment over the fallen Starwolf, gravely injured and stunned by the impact. Then he knelt. “You know, I never expected simple revenge. I always expected that it would be enough just to finally defeat you, perhaps to know that you had died somewhere fighting the inevitable defeat. Now I have this rare opportunity to crush the life from you with these mechanical hands, your last little gift to me twenty years ago. I always thought they should be good for something.”
He reached down, taking the Starwolf’s neck in his own large hands. No human could have killed a Kelvessan in this way, but the cybernetics had ironically given him some of the tremendous strength and speed of his enemy. And yet, even as he locked both of his hands about Velmeran’s neck, there was a stark flash of brilliant energy and Trace threw himself backward with a cry.
Velmeran picked himself up slowly and painfully, leaning on the window ledge for support. He glanced at Commander Trace, stunned by powers he had not expected. “You always did underestimate me.”
Donalt Trace did not feel inclined to answer. Gasping for breath and struggling with mechanical arms that were reluctant to obey his commands, he retreated into the far end of the long, narrow room. He pulled himself up by the edge of the desk, thinking to reach for the weapon that he had left there, wondering why Velmeran had allowed him to live so long. Then he looked up, and drew back in dread.
Starwolves had arrived, two in black armor, helping Velmeran to stand and checking the monitors in the chestplate of his damaged suit. Standing between the Kelvessan and himself was a creature unlike any that he had ever seen, an armored form like a white dragon, standing on four long, rangy legs with four triple-jointed arms with a weapon in each hand, centered on him. Its long neck was bent in his direction, although the mirrored eyeplates of the helmet held no expression. He knew what it was he faced, for all that he had never known until that moment whether the Valtrytians were real, as Velmeran had told him over dinner half a lifetime past, or if they were legend.
“So, it seems that I am denied that one small wish after all,” he remarked wryly. “If my luck had been so perfect, I would have lost my faith in it.”
“I think that I can still upset a great many of your schemes,” Velmeran answered him.
“I do not doubt that you will try,” Trace said. “Well, I doubt that we will ever meet again. You are probably on your way home, and I am off to Terra. If you wish to finish this, join me there.”
Complete darkness descended heavily as the lights of both the room and the landing bay outside suddenly went out. Venn Keflyn opened fire instantly, even though she could not see her target, but with four guns she was able to lay down an impressive barrage. Through her helmet, she was unable to hear the closing of the heavy metal door between them, although the flare of her guns and the deflection of her bolts showed her what had happened and she ceased fire. The lights came up a moment later.
“He must be on his way out,” Velmeran said. “There is a small lift in that part of the room. Trace was correct in believing that he is paying stricter attention to details these days. He selected this place carefully, just in case I still got the better of him.”
“Commander, our ships in the bay are under attack,” Barest warned.”Light arms and sentries. Lenna is getting her mechanical pet keyed in to the bay controls to get the overhead doors open.”
He nodded. “We will get out of here as fast as we can. You two go ahead to help the others hold the bay. With Venn Keflyn’s help, I should be along in a minute.”
The two pilots hurried to reinforce the others, protecting the ships that were down in the bay. Velmeran was recovering quickly from his wound, his highly efficient physiology compensating for the damage. The armor-piercing bullet, as large and heavy as it was, had expended nearly its entire energy in piercing the suit. It had struck the iron-based bone of the complex system of struts of his double-shoulder almost immediately, by chance bouncing straight back into the hole it had cut through the suit. Venn Keflyn helped him to replace his helmet, mostly for its protection against enemy fire.
“Valthyrra Methryn directed us to this bay,” the Aldessan explained as they made their way to the stairs that would take them down to the bay floor. “She did not trust Commander Trace. It seems that she was correct.”
Velmeran did not answer, but he could not help but think that he would have killed Donalt Trace if it had not been for their sudden intervention and Venn Keflyn’s assumption that she had the Union Commander captive. Velmeran hoped that she did not sense his thoughts, but very much on his mind was the realization that Trace was now on his way to destroy Terra. And the fact that his own daughter was there, perhaps unaware of where she really was, certainly unaware of her danger.
“Do you know what he told me?” Velmeran asked.
“Valthyrra was listening through your suit com,” Venn Keflyn explained.
He reached inside the chestplate of his suit, shutting off his communications to all but his close contact with the Aldessa. “We may have just lost it, my friend. I hardly know what to think. Would your people be likely to rescue us from this?”
“You are our children,” she told him. “We would not hesitate. But the Aldessan are a very long way from here. I do not believe that I could bring help before the destruction of Alkayja.”
“Could you go immediately?”
“I will be in starflight even before you are back aboard the Methryn. But my ship does not have a jump drive, as fast as it may be.”
The overhead doors were open by the time they reached the bay, although the battle continued as fiercely as ever. Venn Keflyn protected Velmeran as well as she could, occasional bolts deflecting harmlessly off her own armor as they hurried across the short open space to the knot of parked ships. The pilots were already in the fighters, Trel taking Velmeran’s own, pivoting the ships around to face outward to bring their more powerful guns to bear against the sentries firing from the protection of distant doorways.
Venn Keflyn deposited Velmeran at the side hatch of the transport, then hurried to her own corvette.
Velmeran sealed the hatch, then paused. Lenna Makayen lay in an unconscious wreck on a medical stretcher strapped against the far wall, her left arm ripped away at the shoulder by the hail of crossfire that had caught her as she and Bill had hurried back to the ships after opening the overhead doors. That was only the worst of her damage, and Velmeran was amazed that she was still alive. Marlena was bent over her, furiously administering the best medical attention she could give. Bill, his four long legs folded beneath him, was already strapped to the floor nearby. He was scorched from the barrage he had endured, protecting Lenna with his own armored hull until help had arrived. He looked oddly forlorn.
“Valthyrra has the transport on remote,” Marlena reported without looking up from her work. “I know that you were wounded yourself, but can you take control of the ship, at least until we are clear of the bay? We would all feel better for it.”
“Yes, I have it,” he agreed.
Entering the cabin, he eased himself into the pilot’s seat, tossing his helmet into the other. He took the ship off remote direction.
“I have it, V
al,” he said aloud. He brought the transport up, lifting the unfamiliar ship straight up through the open overhead doors. He did not engage the engines until he was in clear sky, and even then he accelerated cautiously to spare Lenna the worst of the climb into space.
“Are you well?” Valthyrra asked hesitantly.
“Well enough,” he agreed. “I will bring the transport straight into the fighter bay to save time. Have complete medical assistance standing by. Lenna is not going to make it, but just in case.”
“Of course, Commander.” Valthyrra sounded as dejected as Bill looked.
“Send out an achronic message to every ship immediately,” he continued. “Order every carrier to return to Alkayja Base at once, best possible speed. If no one is there to give them further orders, they are to stand off and await the arrival of the Valtrytian fleet. As for yourself, destroy this installation as soon as we are clear. Perhaps we can still catch Donalt Trace on the ground, assuming that he was lucky enough to escape Venn Keflyn. We will be going into starflight as soon as the ships are aboard. What is the best speed you can give us?”
“I can make most of the run home in a series of long jumps, running at high starflight speeds while the drive recovers and recharges between jumps,” she answered. “Perhaps five days.”
“Do it,” Velmeran agreed reluctantly, knowing as Valthyrra did that she would tear herself apart doing so. Because of the stress on the Methryn’s spaceframe and systems, they had been limiting their jumps to only moderate distances, and then only from relatively low speeds. The Methryn would get home in time, and she would go out to fight. But even if she survived, she would never fly again. This was likely the Methryn’s final run.
“What about Terra?” Valthyrra reminded him gently.
He shook his head weakly. “Terra is just one largely uninhabited and unimportant world in the middle of nowhere. We have to sacrifice that world to save our own.”
Tactical Error Page 18
