Battle of the Ring (27 page)

He turned quickly and saw a sentry standing motionless in the shadows of the
opposite corridor, not two meters from where he stood.

“Yes, I see him. What of it?”

“Well, it’s a most peculiar thing. He said that if you
don’t do exactly as I tell you, he’ll blow your damned head
off.”

“He does?” Skerri asked in complete mystification. Then the
little wheels inside his head gave a convulsive jerk. “Hey, what is
this?”

He turned abruptly back to the girl and found himself staring down the
business end of a gun. “Actually, I’ll shoot you myself if you
don’t do exactly as I say. Now, you just go ahead and call the lift. The
three of us are going for a little ride.”

The Challenger moved cautiously up the long corridor leading outward
from the planet, laid by the Methryn to accelerate the massive rock toward her
target. At the top of the run the Methryn’s corridor turned sharply and
settled into a path that formed a more or less stable orbit. The Fortress
accelerated to her best speed as she returned to the chase. She had only just
achieved her maximum velocity when she shot past the Methryn, hidden in the
ring a short distance to one side. Even at a relative speed of nearly a
kilometer per second, it took her half a minute to pass.

“There she goes,” Valthyrra announced as she brought up just
enough power for her debris shields to deflect the rocks pushed aside by the
Challenger.

Mayelna turned to look at her. “All I saw was a big, black shadow
moving extremely fast. Are you ready?”

“Ready,” the ship agreed. “I will begin powering up as
soon as the Challenger is well out of range and follow five minutes behind
until the time comes to move in.”

Maeken Kea reviewed the scan data for the third time. Readings inside this
highly charged nightmare were suspect to begin with. And it certainly seemed
too good to be true, which meant to her that it probably was. She did not
believe in luck. But the evidence remained, and she did not believe that static
distortion could have altered the scanner reading so completely.

“It must be so,” she agreed, although her reluctance was plain.
“They are towing the Methryn.”

“If the scan of energy emissions is at all accurate, that is the only
explanation,” Trace insisted.

“What convinces me is this additional evidence. Look at their orbital
projections.” She called up the data and a diagram on her monitor.
‘Their orbit is a slow spiral inward toward the planet, taking advantage
of gravity to help maintain their speed. They’re doing everything they
can to keep that ship moving. The question is, did they break down or shut
down?”

“Care to make an educated guess?”

Maeken shrugged. “It hardly matters either way. The important thing is
that the Methryn is no longer moving under her own power. If we are going to
catch her, it is going to be now.”

The corridor opened onto a chamber of some size, which in turn served only
as a balcony for a greater chamber beyond. Although it shared the same high
ceiling, they could see that it dropped down at least one full level and
appeared to be about forty meters wide by at least a hundred long. The three
Starwolves could see little of the floor below, although they could make
out a similar balcony on the far side and an entrance where the main corridor
on this level picked up again.

“Security region,” Velmeran remarked as they paused at the
doorway. “We are on the far edge of the Kalfethki quarters.”

“How do you know that?” Consherra asked.

“Airlock,” he explained, pointing to the double doors
immediately behind them. “We were supposed to be a level above
this.”

“Then what are we waiting for?”

“I prefer to meet them here,” he said as he began to ready his
weapons. Baress did the same, although Consherra was too surprised to do
anything but stare in disbelief. He indicated for her to set the controls on
her rifle. “Single shot, full power will be most effective. At least we
have two chances to salvage this mission. The Kalfethki will not call up to the
bridge until they have defeated us. Also, their weapons are kept under lock, so
that all they will have to fight us will be their ceremonial swords.”

“Why do we have to fight them in the first place?” Consherra
demanded.

“They already have us cut off.”

Velmeran advanced cautiously to one of the two sets of stairs leading down
from each corner of the alcove. Towering Kalfethki warriors. began streaming
into the larger room below, stalking along in their awkward saurian gait with
surprising speed. A smaller army was loping along the main corridor behind
them, cutting off any retreat. All were armed with long, curved swords, with
heavy blades two meters or more in length and quite capable of cutting a
Starwolf in half, armor and all.

The three Kelvessan took up a defensive position on the steps, Velmeran at
the bottom and Baress guarding the top. The Kalfethki continued to come, first
by the dozens and then by the hundreds, until they filled the main chamber and
overflowed into the alcoves. Velmeran knew their thoughts, and he could sense
their eagerness and complete lack of fear. They had no concern for wars, for
defending this ship or serving their temporary masters. They wanted either the
honor of the kill or their own death, with a slight preference for the former.

Velmeran tried to keep this in mind, for this fight was to the death. Within
himself there was a quiet shift of character, the coldly efficient killing
machine he was designed to be replacing the true personality that was in itself
incapable of violence. It was this duality of instinct that explained the
puzzle of Kelvessan behavior, of how the most innocent and harmless of people
in known space were also the most deadly warriors.

The press of saurian forms opened silently before him, forming a narrow
corridor through the crowd. An older warrior, his battle harness decorated with
at least two score badges of honor, advanced in slow stateliness, his weapon
held upright. Behind him walked two more warriors and behind them a group of
four. Others followed.

“A challenge,” Velmeran explained to his companions. “The
first challenge is given to the senior warrior. With each challenge, the number
of challengers is multiplied by two.”

“Quaint custom!” Consherra remarked. “What happens when
you pass the challenges?”

“In theory, you do not survive the challenges. Challenge is issued
only to a warrior who is hopelessly outnumbered, trapped, or otherwise doomed.
They are not offering a chance to survive, just a chance for both sides to face
death with all possible honor.”

“Would it be foolish of me to ask if you have a plan?” she
inquired.

“Yes. At my order, Baress and I will use our guns to hold them back
long enough for you to blast a hole through the floor just large enough for us
to slip through. If we can escape, the Kalfethki will be so dishonored that
they will go back to their cabins and begin the ritual of mass suicide.”

The crowd had gradually pulled back, allowing ample room for the combatants.
The first warrior waited silently as a warrior from the second group came
forward to present Velmeran with a pair of swords – a remarkable
concession – one for each hand. Velmeran took the weapons, the smallest
the Kalfethki could find but still as long as he was tall, and swung them
experimentally. He handed one sword to Consherra, then removed his helmet
to give himself a clear view.

Velmeran approached the seasoned warrior, the sword in his upper hands held
in the same upright salute. The Kalfethki lowered his sword slightly in a
gesture of recognition and dived in, suddenly drawing back for a vicious swing.
Velmeran’s major advantage was his speed, and he used it now, striking
and pulling back faster than the mortal eye could follow. The Kalfethki paused
and toppled backward over his massive tail. The Starwolf had slipped the blade
between his ribs, through his heart, and on through his chest to severe his
spine.

For the first time the gathered warriors broke their silence, muttering
their surprise and approval before falling silent again. A couple of younger
members stepped forward to retrieve the body, and the second set of challengers
took his place. They had learned something from the mistake of the first
warrior about underestimating the lightning-quick speed of their tiny
adversary. Velmeran seemed almost to disappear as they swung their heavy
weapons in unison, only to come up beneath their swords and fell them both
before they had time to recover. The Kalfethki were impressed, to say the
least.

“Three to nothing, my favor,” Velmeran remarked quietly as he
retrieved his second sword. “Stand ready, now. I count five challenges;
that means thirty-two in the last. I believe that I can take them all –
they are incredibly slow – and a Kalfethki carcass is quite an obstacle
in itself. Thirty-two should be an effective barricade. You start to work on
the floor at my signal.”

“Are you sure that you can handle this alone?” she asked.

“I have to. Besides, this swordplay seems to come quite naturally. I
should have been a pirate.”

“You are a pirate, among other things,” she reminded him.

“Captain!”

Maeken Kea and Donalt Trace both looked up and quickly identified the
security officer standing beside his station to get their attention. Mystified,
they hurried over to him as he returned to his seat.

“Trouble, Lieutenant?” Trace asked.

“Trouble, sir,” the junior officer agreed. “The Kalfethki
are fighting.”

“Each other?”

“Yes, sir. They have someone cornered in a C Chamber on their level.
They seem to be engaged in ritual challenge, and he must be holding his own
very well.”

“Seal their section,” Trace ordered sharply.

“Yes, sir.” The young officer hit a master switch. On the
maplike schematic on his monitor, the handful of open doors in the Kalfethki
section sealed and locked.

“Now what?” Maeken Kea demanded impatiently. “We are not
very likely to get them back under control once they start fighting. And if
they decide to come after us, not even airlock doors will hold them
long.”

“Yes, you are right. The Kalfethki are of no more use to us.”
Commander Trace turned abruptly to the security officer. “Vacate the
entire sector.”

Sixteen Kalfethki warriors were advancing to do battle when they stopped
short to look around. Velmeran, helmetless, heard it as well. Airlock doors
were being slammed shut. He thought that he could guess what it meant, while
the Kalfethki knew beyond any doubt. They were about to die, suddenly and
without honor, and there was nothing they could do about it. They stood, calm
and silent, with their swords held in a final salute as they waited for death
to come.

Their wait was not long. A slight breeze stirred within the chamber, the air
whistling softly as it was drawn away. Soon even that quiet, ominous sound
faded as the air became too thin. Decompression was usually a violent death,
but the Kalfethki were too solid, their armored hides too thick, for them to
simply explode. The only apparent damage was that their ears ruptured, leaving
thin, red trails from the almost invisible holes in the sides of their heads.
But their lungs were ripped apart in the growing vacuum. They began to fall
unconscious within seconds.

Kelvessan were even tougher organisms. Their lungs did share the same
vulnerability. However, they possessed by design a secondary valve that closed
their trachea as tightly as an airlock. Since it was also an automatic
function, Velmeran had no choice but to hold his breath until he was safely
inside his helmet.

“What happened?” Consherra asked as soon as he could hear her.

“Somebody up there likes me,” he said, indicating the front of
the ship. “They obviously thought that the Kalfethki were fighting among
themselves.”

He walked over to the dead warriors and tried to pull one over to the area
of the fight. His problem was not one of strength but a serious lack of
traction in moving half a ton of inert weight. Baress realized what he intended
and hurried to help. Together they pulled one back to the base of the steps and
arranged limbs and weapons to suggest that this warrior had been fighting his
fellows.

The three Starwolves made their way through the maze of saurian bodies and
ascended to the alcove above the opposite end of the great chamber. Velmeran
stopped before the closed airlock and began his remote manipulation of the
controls. He had only begun when the doors snapped open unexpectedly, and a
blast of air and a Kalfethki exploded outward at him. Although caught
off-guard, Velmeran reacted quickly enough to catch the warrior by a massive
arm and flip him overhead. The warrior crashed heavily on his back a good four
meters away. His ears already bleeding from decompression, he rose shakily and
staggered forward in a final charge. He made it only four uncertain steps.

“Inside!” Velmeran ordered them into the airlock and shut the
door, immediately cycling air into the chamber. “Deliberate decompression
of an airlock. You can bet that set off alarms all the way to the
bridge.”

“Why did he do it?” Consherra asked, still shaken by it all.
“He could have lived.”

“No, he would have been dead within minutes by his own hand
anyway,” he explained, pausing to trigger the outer doors and wave them
through. “Honor, you know. But there was some honor to be won in at least
trying.”

Before they could scramble for cover, a lift door only three meters ahead
opened suddenly and a sentry stepped out, no doubt on its way to investigate
the disturbance. The automaton did not see the Starwolves until it stepped into
the hall and turned to face them. Then it found itself eye-to-eye with Velmeran
and paused in midstride.