possessed few ethical and moral virtues.
It was that fierce warrior code that made them useful as fighters, and yet their worship of a demanding and bloodthirsty god made them too dangerous to keep in useful numbers. One of their many cherished prophecies held that they would someday cleanse the stars of all aliens, murdering entire races for the glory of their god, and they looked forward to that day with eager anticipation. Maeken could imagine the Kalfethki in revolt, having convinced themselves that this unique ship was the divine gift they needed to wage their holy war.
Maeken entered the semicircular area of the bridge, crossing to the raised central portion of the Captain’s station. The Challenger’s bridge was a vague copy of that of the Starwolf carriers, although there was no middle bridge for helm and weapons officer. She was not surprised to find Donalt Trace in the Captain’s seat, only annoyed that the chair had obviously been made to his size. Even as she climbed the steps to the central bridge, he signed some report and returned the board to Lieutenant Skerri, the ship’s second-in-command, who hurried on his way.
“Why was a Kalfethki walking down the corridor of this ship?” she demanded unceremoniously.
Trace only shrugged. “To get to the other side?”
Maeken rolled her eyes. “Ho, ho. We are a wit today.”
Trace folded his hands behind his head as he leaned back in his seat. “I try to be. Otherwise I would be totally lacking in any social graces. To answer your question, however, the Kalfethki serve this ship as a boarding party.”
“Boarding party?” she asked. “Boarding what?”
“Starwolf carriers, if we are fortunate enough to disable and capture one intact,” he explained. “We put them in self-contained armor, like Starwolves. And they can carry guns powerful enough to open Starwolf armor. If we link up with a disabled carrier, we send them in quick with most of our sentries as a secondary force.”
“And how long will they last?” Maeken inquired. “A carrier holds a crew of two thousand, as well as defensive automatons like their probes.”
Trace shrugged, unconcerned. “The carrier’s crew will be scattered and disorganized, with wounded and young to protect. And their best fighters, their pilots, will be gone. Against that, I have two thousand Kalfethki warriors, as well as five thousand sentries. And given time, I can also bring in the troop transports.”
“Two thousand Kalfethki?” Maeken demanded. “That isn’t a boarding party, that’s an army! And what do you do if those fanatical dragons decide that your fancy fortress is a present from their great demon-god Harraught?”
“Simple enough,” Trace said, always pleased with his ingenuity. “Dead Kalfethki are very easy to control. They are all housed together — alone — in their own section of the ship. Their armor and weapons are sealed under lock in another section. And the computer watches them constantly. If they do get out of hand, we seal off that section and vent their air. Even Starwolves have to breathe.”
“Not quite,” she pointed out. “They can take ten to fifteen minutes of full vacuum.”
“True, but we are not talking about Starwolves. Kalfethki are amazingly tough, but space vacuum rips up their lungs and kills them in seconds. I know. I had it tested.”
Maeken tried to betray her surprise at that. Union High Command, of which she was a part, privately subscribed to the belief that all life except their own was of no real worth except in service of the Union. She could not accept that herself, but she had learned to pretend.
“Take over, Kea,” Trace said suddenly, rising. “I will be in my cabin.”
With that he was gone, marching from the bridge with a long-legged stride that she would have to run to match. Maeken watched with mild interest. She was sure that, when they had first met, he had still been moving cautiously, even painfully, favoring his reconstructed back. Now he moved with such quickness and grace that he might have never sustained such injuries. Thoughts of revenge were proving to be a strong cure.
Maeken had no sooner situated herself in the oversized seat than she saw Skerri returning quietly to the central bridge. She knew his type well enough, ambitious but not quite smart enough to make his own opportunities, and she knew just how to use him to best advantage. Just now there were two Captains on the bridge, and Skerri wanted to be sure that he was good friends with both. He was kept so busy that he was in danger of falling off his fence.
“Two thousand Kalfethki?” she muttered, as if to herself. That was bait to get the game rolling, and Skerri leaped at it.
“With friends like these, who needs enemies?” he asked jokingly. “I take it that you do not care for the idea?”
“No, but Commander Trace is already aware of that,” she answered, always careful that she never said anything that could be quoted against her. “Perhaps I should have asked to go for a ride before I agreed to accept command of this ship. It seems I find something I should have already known every time I look.”
“True,” Skerri agreed. “But at least you have a choice.”
Maeken glanced at him inquiringly. “You did not?”
“Me?” Skerri asked incredulously, “I’m not Union High Command. Like everyone else, I was assigned.”
“I see,” Maeken commented politely. Then she leaned closer and continued in a soft voice. “What happened to him, anyway? Did Velmeran really shoot him in the back?”
“You had better believe it!” the first mate declared. “That was during the raid on Vannkarn, of course. Trace knew what they were after and went running to stop it, then ran in the other direction when he realized his mistake. You do know of Velnieran?”
“Who doesn’t? He led a two-carrier raid in our sector not six months ago and didn’t leave a ship in the sky. So he expects to fight Velmeran again?”
Skerri frowned. “We are going outside the Rane Sector and Velmeran’s usual hunting grounds, so we are not likely to meet up with him first time. But you can bet that he is going to come running when he learns of this ship. Trace is counting on it.”
“Can we beat him?”
“Well, we have a good chance. A Fortress and a Starwolf carrier are supposed to be evenly matched, so it depends upon whether you and Trace can outmaneuver him,” Skerri said, and looked at her. “They say that you have fought Starwolves before and won. Can you do it again?”
“That depends, I suppose,” Maeken said with exaggerated casualness. “I have never fought Velmeran before, so I cannot say.”
“How did you do it before?”
“Trade secret,” Maeken said with irritating finality. “I will tell you one secret, however. If you want to advance, you have to collect as many command secrets as you can and hoard them jealously. Have you heard the saying that there must be a secret to doing that?”
“Yes.”
“Well, there is. A fair number of secrets, and you need to collect as many as you possibly can.”
“I see,” Skerri replied seriously, believing every word of it. “But how do I go about getting these secrets?”
“Oh, you get secrets from those who have them,” she explained officiously. “Your superior officers have the secrets you want, of course. Be loyal and helpful, and you will be rewarded with a secret or two. Also, secrets can be bought with other secrets. But you have to know the difference between real secrets and gossip. Gossip is fool’s gold; it sounds good to other fools, but it has no value to those who know better.”
“I see,” Skerri said thoughtfully. “How do I learn any secrets?”
“You already have,” Maeken assured him. “I just told you the most important secret of all.”
“Yes, I see what you mean,” Skerri agreed with growing enthusiasm. “Thank you, Captain!”
The first mate hurried off, leaving Maeken to bite her tongue to keep from laughing aloud. But her purpose was accomplished; she had certainly impressed him and won his admiration and loyalty, and he would prove to be a mine of useful information.
“So I ask you, was there ever a ship’s Captain smarter than me?” she inquired aloud.
“Not in my experience,” a mechanical voice replied promptly.
Maeken glanced up impatiently. “Who asked you?”
“You did, of course,” the ship responded in a voice that seemed to hold a note of self-satisfaction. Maeken was wise enough to avoid responding. Controlling people was an easy matter, but a computer was something