still engaged with the hundreds of stingships that had already altered their course to follow. It was humiliating for a Starwolf carrier, beaten and battered, to turn and run, unprecedented in recent memory.
“All fighters close to five hundred kilometers and remain on defensive alert,” she began her instructions. “Damage control and engineering, begin immediately repairs. Engineering, take a look at that damaged engine. All nonactive personnel will remain at standby until further notice.”
“How bad is it?” Tryn asked.
Schayressa brought her camera pod back to the upper bridge. “Not so bad, really. Aside from the wrecked engine, I have no mechanical damage. I just need acres and acres of new plating.”
“So? Are you thinking about going back to fight that thing?”
“Oh, I can fight again,” she assured him. “But I am not going to until I figure out how… Hello?”
Commander Tryn glanced up at her. “What is it?”
“A message coming in,” she explained, looking bemused. “Sector Commander Donalt Trace wants to talk to us.”
“Oh?” The Commander sat back in his chair, pondering that. “Surely he has more on his mind than just gloating.”
“It cannot hurt to listen to what he has to say,” Keldryn offered. Like all good second-in commands, she was certain that the upper bridge needed her advice to function best.
“Very well, put him on,” Tryn agreed. “Do you have a picture?”
“Audio only.”
“Good. I do not have to look at him.”
“Commander?” a voice asked over the static of an open channel. The Union did not have good achronic communications.
“This is Commander Tryn of the Kalvyn.”
“Yes, this is Commander Donalt Trace on board the Fortress Marenna Challenger. So, what do you think of my new ship?”
“Very impressive,” Tryn agreed, very noncommmital in his reply. He meant to learn all he could while not giving away any information… not even an opinion. “You are the Captain of this ship?”
“Me? No! I designed the Fortress; but Maeken Kea is the Captain of the Challenger,” Trace continued. “You know, I was hoping that it would be the Methryn that would come blundering into the trap you sprung. Still, it might be better this way. I knew that the first ship to run up against my Fortress would turn tail and run until it knew what it was fighting. The second time around will be a fight to the death. Now you, of course, are thinking that you are going to find a way to defeat my Fortress, while I know you cannot. We shall see who is right.”
“I suppose we shall.”
“Better yet, why not send for Velmeran and the Methryn,” Trace suggested. “He is the best you have. This is the best I have. Why not just have it out, and settle that question once and for all?”
“This is the Kalvyn’s sector, not the Methryn’s,” Tryn said to avoid a direct reply.
“Perhaps, but Velmeran has often fought where he is needed,” Trace reminded him. “Still, whatever you think best. My Fortress has already given you a minor mauling. I would just as well finish you off now and deal with Velmeran next. He should come running in a hurry when he hears that my Fortress destroyed one of his own carriers.”
“As you said earlier, we shall see,” Tryn replied.
“Yes, so we shall,” Commander Trace agreed. With that the channel went abruptly dead.
Tryn looked up at Schayressa’s camera pod. “Well, what do you make of that? He seems very sure of himself.”
“He might have reason to be,” the ship answered. “I have been reviewing the scan of his ‘Fortress’… a very apt name, I might add. It has a defense for everything we could throw against it. The only way to beat it is by superior strategy.”
“Superior strategy?” Tryn sat for a moment, musing on that. He looked up at Keldryn, waiting patiently at his side. “You go and take a look at our damage and report back to me. Schayressa, park yourself outside this system and do what you can with your damage. Send out two or three drones to scout out what they can. I want to know where those warships and stingships came from, and what else they might have in hiding. And warm up the achronic.”
“The Methryn?”
Tryn shrugged. “If he wants Velmeran so badly, I suppose that we should send him Velmeran.”
The weather at the port of Kallenes had turned bad during the night. A wet mixture of hail and sleet was driven by a fitful gale, whipping down out of the mountains now hidden behind a blank wall of mist and clouds. Dawn came late and warmed only to a dim twilight. The port field was transformed into a glacial expanse of damp, heavy snow that had gathered in crusty banks on the backs of the black wolf fighters and transports huddled like langies against the winter blast in the near corner of the field.
The Mall that morning was cold, damp, and dark, the skylights covered over with snow so that the dim lighting gave the appearance of late night. To add to that, no one was about the narrow streets that morning except those who had no choice, and a few dozen Starwolves who had the place entirely to themselves. One of the few travelers about the Mall that morning was Velmeran, waiting impatiently for the tailor to open his shop so that he could collect his armor.
After two days in regular clothes, the heavy, restrictive suit was actually a welcome comfort. He had never felt so vulnerable as he had these past two days without it. It had been a confused, violent port leave, he reflected as he untied his braids and brushed out his long, thick hair. Still, he did not regret a moment of it.
The Feldennye tailor packaged up his new clothes and he left with the bundle under one of his lower arms. Although he had not expected it, still he was not surprised to find Lenna waiting for him outside, pacing against the cold. She glanced up expectantly as he opened the door, and he could tell by her astonishment that she did not recognize him.
“Sergei?” she asked hesitantly, drawing back a fearful step.
“Sure now, and you were expecting Pack Leader Velmeran?” he asked, affecting the local dialect to reassure her teasingly. She still did not know who he really was, assuming the name he had given her to be his own, and he preferred matters that way. “You are out early this morning, considering that you put away my complimentary drinks as well as your own last night. Come to see me off?”
“You’ve been called away, then?” Lenna asked, frowning, as she stared at the ground.
“There has been trouble, barely an hour past, and I must go,” he explained simply. “The rest of the pilots will be recalled to the ship before the morning is over. I must go back immediately.”
“And you are needed so badly that they could not spare you a few minutes more?”
Now Velmeran frowned, wondering if he could spare her that much. “Perhaps we could walk — slowly — to the port together. That would be a few minutes.”
“And all I’m going to get, it seems,” Lenna muttered as they started off together.
“If you were human, then I would love you,” Lenna mused quietly as they walked. “And I do regret that you didn’t take me to bed last night. Just between friends, and I had thought that we were friends enough for that.”
“I have a mate, Consherra the Terrible, and I love only her,” he reminded her. “But I will not forget my promise. I will find a ship for you. Do you believe me?”
“Of course I believe you,” Lenna insisted, although that thought no longer filled her with the excitement it once had. There was now only one ship for her, and that was the Methryn. “You’ll be coming back? I’ll see you again?”
Velmeran shook his head. “I doubt that we will ever meet again. You will be gone long before I ever make it back to this place. Valthyrra Methryn will be going home for her overhaul after this, and that means half a standard year in airdock.”
“Well, I’ll miss you,” Lenna said. “Friends we may be and nothing more, but you’re certainly the most interesting friend I’ve ever had.”
“Thank you,” Velmeran replied, smiling. “You are a little strange yourself.”
Lenna laughed. “I didn’t mean it quite that way, but you have it right after all. At least now I know what we
