Battle of the Ring

The prey was a freighter of the D Class, not nearly as massive as the
immense bulk freighters but far too large to land itself. Just under two
hundred and fifty meters in length, it was shiny white with new paint and its
boxlike hull was unusually trim for a cargo ship, although obviously too wide
and heavy for a warship. Remarkable as well was its speed, for its drives
developed the power of a freighter half its size. And it was a lure for any
pirate who could take her.

The hunters were nine large freighters with down-swept wings, as black as
space and as fast as death. These were wolf ships and their pilots were
Kelvessan, the dread Starwolves. Exposed to stresses few other creatures
– and certainly no human – could endure, they closed upon their
prey with deadly purpose and accuracy. They could not see their target, but
they sensed its every movement. They tracked their prey by the image they
received in their minds from its tremendous power emissions, the low, echoing
pulse of its stardrive marking it as a company ship and legitimate prey.

As the pack moved into range, the fighters broke formation to move into
attack position. The lead fighter, that of the pack leader, moved in close
behind the freighter for the first run, but hesitated. Velmeran knew that this
run was his to make, and yet he had the vague, unexplainable feeling that he
should not – that he must not. Not because this freighter was a danger in
itself; in his short career he had sprung three traps already. But something
was wrong. He had always trusted these feelings in the past, and yet he could
see no cause to terminate this run. His one concession was to move slightly out
of line to the position where he normally watched attack runs.

That move did not appear to surprise the others. They trusted him, perhaps
more than Velmeran trusted himself. Baress moved up to take his place in line,
maneuvering to align his cannons. The objective of the attack run was simple
enough: the stardrive had to be wrecked to bring a ship out of starflight. A
bolt had to strike and fracture the crystal of the drive itself, and that
strike had to be on the very edge. A miss might do undesirable damage to the
ship, while a strike too far inside would dissipate in the drive thrust. This
ship was small and fast, and they would be lucky to get within ten kilometers
of a target they could not see in the first place.

The ship executed a series of evasive maneuvers that did nothing to shake
loose its pursuit. Before the helm computer could be set up for another set of
dodges and turns, Baress seized the moment and rushed in. He fired a quick
volley as he passed, missing the star drive by a fraction but raking the hull
of the ship. As he dropped back to return to the pack, Tregloran moved up to
make his own run. Although he would never quite equal his teacher in skill, he
was learning quickly. He was already as good a pilot as Baress, who had flown
special tactics for years; if one missed the target, the other would not.

“Scatter!”

At Velmeran’s order, the fighters broke without hesitation and shot
away as fast as they could. Velmeran had saved them from traps too often for
them to question his judgment. Salran’s pack, flying watch a short
distance back, turned quickly away as well. And the Methryn, pacing the hunt,
charged her main cannons as she closed. Curiously, the only one who did not
follow that order was Velmeran himself. He continued to pace the freighter
closely.

“Velmeran, what are you doing?” Valthyrra Methryn demanded over
com. “Is that thing a trap, or not?”

“No, this is no trap,” he answered. “That was the only way
I knew to get Tregloran off her tail before he shot her.”

“Then would you kindly explain yourself?”

“I doubt that I can. I am putting my reputation on the line.”

“You already have. So, tell!”

“I want you to make contact with that ship.”

On the Methryn’s bridge, Valthyrra brought her camera pod around to
stare in astonishment at the commander. Mayelna only shrugged both sets of arms
and sat back in her chair to watch.

“You want me to talk to it?” she asked with obvious disdain.
“It phases like a company ship... Well, it has happened before.”

She opened a new signal on the commercial band, trusting that she was within
range of the weak achronic transceivers of Union technology, linking it to the
channel she kept to the fighters for Velmeran to hear.

“Attention, unidentified ship!” she snapped in her best
authoritative voice. “Identify yourself immediately.”

There was a very long pause. Valthyrra was quick to grow impatient, mostly
because she was afraid that he was right. “Well?”

“Give them a moment,” Velmeran insisted. “They have been
badly shaken. How would you feel if you found Starwolves on your tail?”

“Annoyed.”

“Hello? This is Captain Garkelley of the Velka.”

“Name your company and home port,” Valthyrra demanded.

“No company. We are independent freighters.”

Valthyrra swore privately before she reopened her channels. “Velka,
drop to one quarter light speed and stand by to be taken on board. You are not
under attack, but you will be destroyed if you make any hostile moves. What is
your status?”

“Our hull is penetrated, near the engine compartment,” Garkelley
replied. “We do not have the crew to handle this situation.”

“Do what you can,” she told him, then muted that channel.
“Velmeran, have you had a chance for a close look?”

“Good enough,” he responded. “The good Captain told the
truth. Baress clipped the cover of the engine housing and put some long tears
in her hull where her engineering section should be. No real structural or
mechanical damage, though. Their leakage is minimal, since my scanners detect
only traces of escaping atmosphere.”

“Keep an eye on that ship,” she told him before muting that
channel as well. She turned to Mayelna, who was watching it all with calm
detachment. “Well, you certainly seem to be taking it all in
stride.”

Mayelna shrugged, unconcerned. “What is there for me to worry about?
He took care of the problem, and I have you to pick up the pieces.”

“You are the Commander of this ship,” Valthyrra reminded her.

“I have not forgotten. But we have worked out an agreement. I am the
Commander of the Methryn as a ship. Velmeran is the Commander of the Methryn as
a fighting force. You are the Methryn, and quite able to take care of yourself
in the first place. That situation pleases me. He knows far more of what is
going on out there.”

“Yes, he does seem to know,” Valthyrra agreed, glancing down at
the lower bridge where officers hurried about their duties. “How does he
know?”

Mayelna glanced up at her. “He is out there. He sees...”

“Yes, I know. He sees things that no one else can see. He bases
conclusions on things that no one else would notice. He can devise foolproof
plans on the most careful, precise logic and then avert disaster on the wildest
hunch. And he is always right.”

Mayelna looked at her in surprise. “That is what you wanted, is it
not? You should be happy.”

“Oh, I am happy,” the ship was quick to agree. “There is
nothing wrong, but something still bothers me. There is an alarm sounding in a
dark corner of my memory cells, but I cannot remember. All I understand is that
it is far more important than it seems.”

By that time the Methryn had overtaken the damaged freighter and was closing
to take it on board, opening her left holding bay to receive it.

“Captain Garkelley?”

“Yes?”

“I am going to take you into one of my holding bays for
repairs,” she explained. “There is a regular ship’s
atmosphere inside the bay, kept in by a restraining field even when the doors
are open. It might be a little cold for your tastes, but you can live there. I
want you to completely secure your ship as if you were already at dock at a
station, all fields, drives, and major power systems shut down.”

She did not wait for his response. She had already positioned herself so
that the open bay was already over the small freighter, and began to descend on
top of it. Two pairs of long handling arms reached down to lock securely to the
hull of the Velka and draw it into the bay. The arms retracted into their
holding position and locked into place, and the vast doors began to close. She
had already ordered her fighters on board as well, with special emphasis for
Velmeran to get himself to the holding bay as soon as he could.

As soon as her ships were safely on board, the Methryn turned and began to
gather speed gently, so slowly that most of her crewmembers were not even aware
that she was moving. This was special consideration for her human passengers,
who might not have survived her normal accelerations.

Velmeran landed as quickly as he could and hurried to the holding bay, where
Mayelna and Valthyrra waited as the docking tube swung into place. Mayelna was
in the white armor of an officer, a short cape of matching white snapped into
place at her collar to lend a look of authority. Valthyrra hovered nearby in
the form of one of her probes, the most lethal of her automations. A pack of
pilots in black armor served as an impromptu security force, while Dyenlerra
and her medical remotes waited behind. This looked to Velmeran more like a
boarding party than a group of rescuers.

“Ah, Velmeran,” Valthyrra said, the retractable neck of her
probe bent well around to stare at him. “Do you expect any
trouble?”

“No, not really.”

“None at all?” she insisted, still staring at him.

“I expect no violence, if that is what you mean,” he corrected
himself. “Trouble is something you already have. All you could want is
waiting at the end of this docking tube.”

“I was aware of that,” Valthyrra said, drifting toward the door
of the docking tube as it snapped open. “Shall we go have a look at
it?”

She drifted quickly down the length of the tube and opened the outer door of
the lock, which revealed the closed docking hatch of the Velka. A moment later
they could hear the locking mechanisms inside the hatch release with hollow
clangs and thumps, and the door began to move slowly inward as if under stress.
Outer hull doors always opened inward, so that internal pressure kept them
sealed even when mechanical locks failed. That worked against it now, however,
since the freighter kept a slightly higher pressure. The Kelvessan were hit by
a rush of what seemed to them warm air, and the door opened easily.

A small, thin man stepped forward in a very businesslike manner in the
hatchway. The Traders were themselves a race apart, as adapted after many
generations to life in space as nature would allow. They were nearly as small
as the Kelvessan, thin and wiry and well-muscled against the stresses of
acceleration. They were also shrewdly intelligent, especially so for humans in
their declining age. There was something about the appearance and bearing of
this man which suggested that a cold, almost hostile shrewdness was his major
trait.

He made a brief gesture of acknowledgment. “I am Captain Larn
Garkelley of the Velka, independent freighter.”

“I am Valthyrra Methryn,” the ship responded, and indicated
right and left with her camera pod. “This is Commander Mayelna, and
Commander-designate Velmeran.”

Garkelley was shaken at the mention of that final name, turning visibly pale
as he stared at the young pack leader.

“I must inquire as to the condition of your crew,” Valthyrra
distracted him subtly. “Does anyone require medical assistance?”

“No... No, we are all quite well,” Garkelley answered hesitantly.

“Then we will assist you in patching your hull and replacing the
damaged plate, and deliver you to your destination,” Valthyrra continued
briskly. “Also, we will ensure that your engines are recalibrated to
phase at the proper levels.”

“Oh, there is no need for that,” Garkelley was quick to assure
her. “We would not want to trouble you.”

“You have already caused us more trouble than you are worth, and your
ship will not be released until the modifications are complete,”
Valthyrra told him plainly. “You must be aware that your phase levels are
how we are able to tell independents from company ships.”

“Of course, but that is not important.” His righteous
indignation flared. “It seems to me that it is your responsibility to be
more certain of the ships you pillage.”

“You seem to forget that the Traders owe their very existence to our
protection of their trade rights,” Mayelna said in harsh warning.
“The Union would not tolerate you if they could help it. We have always
hunted them out of various freight lanes so that you can have the trade. The
only responsibility you have in return is to properly identify
yourselves.”