Battle of the Ring (18 page)

“Then I suppose that we have the making of another here,” she
said, and turned to Velmeran. “Tryn is Daelyn’s father.”

“Is that a fact?” Velmeran answered guardedly.

Valthyrra, who had missed the previous conversation out in the hall, glanced
about in complete mystification. Her gaze passed over Commander Tryn and she
did a quick double take, then looked at Velmeran and back again. Several of the
others, observing her, were trying not to laugh.

“Ah... if we could get on with the business at hand,” she began
uncertainly, her camera pod rotating around to center on the Kalvyn’s
probe, seated astride the arms of the chair beside Lenna. “If you will
begin.”

“Yes, we will start with an analysis of this machine that Donalt
Trace has built himself,” Schayressa said, and employed a video link with
Valthyrra to project her intricate scans of the Challenger on the large
viewscreen beside the table. Using this to illustrate her explanations, she
began a very careful accounting of the Fortress and how its various
systems functioned... and why it was so invulnerable.

Lenna, watching from the edge of the discussion, noticed that Schayressa was
directing her explanation at Velmeran, and that there was some unspoken consent
among everyone present that he was very much in command. As she watched, he
seemed to grow in character, evolving from the little boy she had met in
Kallenes to become the person that legend argued he must be. Perhaps not the
daring, devil-may-care hero of her romanticized image but the capable and
responsible Commander-designate that his fellow Starwolves trusted and respected.

Schayressa concluded with a step-by-step analysis of her battle with
the Challenger, the complex nature of the trap that she had wandered into, and
how the Union Commander had quickly and effectively blocked her every move.

“Meran, what do you think?” Mayelna asked as Velmeran sat in
thoughtful silence for a long moment.

“Somehow that does not sound to me like the Donald Trace I knew two
years ago,” he explained. “Weapons design is his strength, but his
idea of strategy is a strong, straightforward drive that either succeeds or
fails in its initial thrust. Such subtlety and refinement of strategy
simply is not his style.”

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.”