Dreadnought (15 page)

She
certainly did not expect to be taken aboard the Methryn until the carrier was
ready to go out, and so she was surprised when Commander Gelrayen himself came
to collect her a week before their scheduled launch. She had seen little of
this young Starwolf since the meeting in which it had been decided to fit his
new ship with the scanner, and she had been curious about him ever since.
Because Starwolf Commanders were chosen from among the pack leaders, he had
very little previous command experience on the bridge of a full ship. In their
last meeting, Tarrel had noticed that he did not yet seem entirely comfortable
in his new role, but she had quietly predicted that he would learn quickly. She
was curious to find out if she was right.

“Are
you sure that I won’t be in your way?” she asked. He seemed to have more
trouble than usual with her use of contractions, something that seemed to be
lacking from Kelvessan syntax logic. No Kelvessan would normally use a
contraction, but they usually seemed to understand the use. He seemed to lack
that much familiarity with the Terran language.

“No,
not at all,” Gelrayen insisted. “In fact, I would rather have you become a
familiar element on the ship before we go out. With our collective
inexperience, I want to eliminate as many uncomfortable elements as possible
now. Would you like a quick tour of the ship? You can come back for your things
later.”

Captain
Tarrel was not about to turn down that invitation, knowing that he might be too
busy to make that offer except in his own good time. They descended to the
observation deck level for the carrier bays, where Gelrayen was able to show
her the work being done on the Methryn. A surprising amount of the hull about
her tapered nose was still open, considering the fact that she was due to leave
her bay in only a week. Tarrel could make little enough sense of the equipment
she saw exposed within the hull, although she was impressed with the scale of
that machinery. Components that she would have probably been able to hold
comfortably in her hands from the ships she knew were larger than herself
within the carrier.

“Those
are the impulse transmitters, there in the shock bumper, one to either side of
the main lights, and the primary cannon dead center,” Gelrayen pointed out. “We
call them cannons for good reason. At extreme range, that achronic pulse would
probably knock a small ship right out of space. There are also side-directed
cannons in the ventral grooves of the wing tips, that groove which runs the
entire length of the ship where the upper and lower hulls meet.”

“Why
does a carrier have a ventral groove?” Tarrel asked. “Mostly because of the
size of the ship. The upper and lower hull are actually large pieces of armor
built over the actual ship, and a ventral groove gives them room to flex. Also,
the heating and cooling exchanges, the scanner receivers and the smaller remote
cannons are protected from attack by being set back within the groove.”

“And
what about the shock bumper?” she asked. “It seems designed to be a separate
component from the ship.”

“Oh,
that serves several purposes. The shock bumper is somewhat isolated from the
rest of the ship, which cuts down on nuisance vibrations when aiming the
cannons. The navigational shields are in the bumper, and that acts to reduce
the shock of sudden large impacts against that shield. The entire assembly with
the complete forward battery can be replaced as a single unit in a very short
time. And it also gives the ship a bumper to push with. That comes in more
useful than you might imagine.” “You are not worried about your secrets?”
Tarrel asked. “This scanner is new technology for you.”

“And
absolutely worthless as a technical advantage in our affairs with the Union,” he
pointed out. “Our old scanners could locate your ships effectively enough, and
you are unlikely to develop stealth-intensity any time in the foreseeable
future. Besides, the objective is to avoid going back to war when this is
over.”

Tarrel
was obviously amused. “If you expect a lasting peace between us, it means that
one of us is going to be whipped so badly that we will no longer be able to
fight.”

“That
is my expectation,” Gelrayen admitted. “You first encountered the Dreadnought
more than six weeks ago. I fully expect another two to five months before we
finally destroy it, if we are lucky and very efficient. What is going to happen
to the Union in that time? How much more damage will Union shipping and the
military fleet take in that time? And how many of our own carriers will be
sacrificed fighting the Dreadnought?”

“You
do not encourage me,” Tarrel said as she looked out across the vast expanse of
the Methryn’s smooth, black hull. She had been feeling very safe, thinking that
she would be aboard a Starwolf carrier, even though she had been aboard the
Kerridayen during its own fight with the Dreadnought. Methryn would be going
out to find the enemy, sticking her figurative head into the mouth of a beast
with a proven history of snapping.

“I
do not feel encouraged myself,” Gelrayen admitted. “Is this what it has been
like for you people?”

“What
do you mean?”

“Having
to fight Starwolves when we possess all of the advantages.”

Tarrel
laughed, mostly because he was so sincere. “No, it was never like this. We
always knew where we stood with the Starwolves, and how we could expect you to
respond when we pushed. Your objective was never to destroy us, and that
limited the scope of our war. This thing is merciless.”

“Whoever
designed it was merciless,” the Kelvessan corrected her. “Would you like to go
aboard and meet Valthyrra?”

“Yes,
certainly.”

He
led the way to one of the two main docking tubes, a walk of some considerable
distance just to board a ship. Captain Tarrel had to get used to everything
involving the Starwolf carriers, operated on a very different scale, including
the time it took to get anywhere. Since these ships were quicker and more agile
than anything she knew, it was hard for her to think of them as being so
incredibly large while she was aboard one in flight. Only seeing one in the
enclosed space of a bay, standing at the nose and seeing that black hull
stretch away into the distance, did its actual size become inescapable. Tarrel
wondered how it even flew the way she knew it would and stay in one piece; she
would have given a lot to have been in this bay six decades earlier and seen
the ship’s space frame standing alone.

“Do
you know, I find myself feeling sorry for Valthyrra,” Gelrayen commented as
they walked the length of the docking tube. “Other carriers get centuries of
light duty before they are given their first patrol. But Valthyrra has to go
straight out from this bay and find the Dreadnought. This is no way for her to
begin her life. But do not tell Valthyrra that I ever said such a thing.”

“I
understood that she is actually quite a bit older than I am,” Tarrel said.

“She
has been up and running for that long, but a carrier’s life really does not
begin until she leaves the construction bay and flies for the first time,” the
Starwolf insisted. “If you were locked in one place, unable to move and always
seeing the same thing, would you consider that life?”

Tarrel
smiled fondly. “Starwolves are secretly incorrigible romantics. Who would have
ever thought? But I do see your point.”

Gelrayen
glanced at her. “You might not have been told; I do not know. The sentient
systems aboard a carrier are not just a very big computer that you can turn on
and have a person. They are given the means of developing a complete
personality and a set of basic traits, but it takes time and a great deal of
interaction with others before they become a complete personality like
Trendaessa Kerridayen. Valthyrra still seems just a little remote and not
always very spontaneous compared to other carriers.” “Have you been with her
long?”

“No,
I came aboard three months ago. We were supposed to have half a year together
to get comfortable before we were to go out for the first time. It seems that I
was chosen to be the Commander of the Methryn some time ago, but I only learned
about it myself when I was transferred aboard.”

“Why
were you chosen?” Tarrel asked.

He
seemed amused. “I was the Commander-designate aboard the Vardon, and Valthyrra
must have been impressed with my record as a pack leader. But you will have to
ask her yourself. I never have.”

“Pardon?”

Gelrayen
glanced at her a second time. “Carriers are allowed to make their own choices
for their Commanders, including the Methryn. Theralda had already chosen me to
be her Commander-designate six years ago. The Commander-designate is always
chosen from among the pack leaders, of course. The two ships had gotten to know
each other very well when the Vardon was in for refitting a few years ago, and
I suppose that Valthyrra trusted Theralda’s judgement on that subject.”

They
entered through the main lock and took the lift just within to the bridge,
which was in fact not a particularly long ride from the point where they had
come aboard. Captain Tarrel knew that they were indeed back aboard a Starwolf
ship when she found herself suddenly pressed against the wall as the lift made
its typically fast lurch forward. At least she had remembered to be certain
that she was comfortably close to the wall when she had stepped aboard the
lift.

They
entered the bridge from the right wing, stepping slowly and carefully to avoid
the various tools, cables and components scattered about the deck. Technicians
and members of the Methryn’s own bridge crew were all hard at work fitting the
final adaptations for the impulse scanner, the work here involving the
installation of a new surveillance console with an additional monitor and main
keyboard. Images from the impulse scanner could of course be transferred to any
monitor on the bridge, including the main viewscreen. Tarrel paused for a
moment, having noticed that the main viewscreen was indeed engaged, but divided
into a dozen segments to show images from various points within the
construction bay.

Valthyrra,
who had been watching the work on her surveillance station very closely,
brought her camera pod around and rotated the dual lenses to focus on the
newcomers. She seemed particularly interested in Captain Tarrel, who had
considered it a point of honesty to wear her Union uniform. “Are you the
enemy?”

“Not
at the moment, no,” Tarrel responded. “Right now, someone else has that job.”

“Val,
that is not entirely polite,” Gelrayen warned his ship quietly.

“I
know that,” she replied with exaggerated dignity, then turned her camera pod
back to the captain. “I have to admit that I am not entirely certain what to
make of this. Making my first flight is going to be embarrassing enough without
a representative of the enemy hanging out to see my mistakes. Are you going to
spy on me?”

“Do
you want me to spy on you?” Tarrel asked as seriously as she could, amused with
the ship’s rather remarkable sense of humor.

“Oh,
would you? I would hate to think that I might have missed the war entirely.”
She turned her camera pod to Commander Gelrayen, who was waiting tolerantly.
“The impulse scanner will be ready for static testing as soon as this console
is rigged. It is already integrated into my computer grid.”

Gelrayen
nodded. “How does it feel?”

“I
have not yet powered up the system, so I have not had a chance to get its feel.
I am still worried about resonant scatter, however.”

“We
will not know if we actually have to modify the impulse cannons until we can
get you out of the bay. Anything else?” “At the moment, no. But I do believe
that we should begin closing up the hull immediately. Nothing will be served
now by keeping the plates off. Any modifications now will not involve internal
components, and it might get me out of here two days early to start closing the
hull now.”

“Consult
the construction chief and tell him that we both recommend that the closing of
the hull should begin immediately,” Gelrayen said, then turned to Captain
Tarrel. “Would you like to see your cabin now? You can move yourself aboard
while I attend to my ship for a while. The diplomatic guest suite here on the
bridge level should be ready for use.”

“Of
course, Commander,” Tarrel said. “That is probably the same as the suite I was
given while I was aboard the Kerridayen. I do know the way, if you need to get
to work.”

As
it happened, Commander Gelrayen wanted to get to work on the closing of the Methryn’s
hull immediately, and he suspected that the construction chief would not be
willing, unless he presented his arguments and pleading in person and possibly
brought along Fleet Commander Asandi as well. Captain Tarrel found the guest
suite to be in the exact corresponding place it had been aboard the Kerridayen,
proof that the Starwolves were fairly satisfied with the
thirty-thousand-year-old deck plan of their carriers. Since it was in the
collection of corridors immediately behind the bridge, that meant that she
could be there in half a minute or less without having to bother with the lift.
In fact, her cabin was hardly any farther away than that of the Commander
himself.

She
did not remember Lt. Commander Pesca until she was on her way back into the
station to collect her things. He was unobtrusive enough, since she generally
ignored him altogether, but she was still responsible for him and made a point
of checking on him two or three times a day to see if he was making a nuisance
of himself. The trouble was that she found him dull, inept and given to petty
complaints—poor company compared to Starwolves—and she easily could have done
without him. For one thing, he was not very likely to accomplish his mission of
learning their secret language, all the more so because they probably knew
exactly what he was trying to do. But Tarrel had no good excuse for leaving him
at the station, and she thought it best to keep him close, where she could
watch him.