control to roll it forward. “You see, it fits just fine.”
“I feel like a pretender to the throne.”
“Heir apparent, I believe they used to say,” Mayelna corrected him, smiling. “You know, it has been just about twenty years since you used to come up to the bridge and sit in my seat. I never suspected that you were trying it on for size. But you have certainly grown into it. I am glad that I am here to see it.”
Velmeran smiled shyly, glancing down, well aware of her deep sincerity. Then he noticed Valthyrra’s camera pod hovering not two meters away.
“What are you waiting for? Begin your attack run,” he ordered sharply. “This is where you get your lumps.”
“Here she comes now,” Maeken Kea warned, looking up from the monitors of her own console.
Donalt Trace turned sharply from the forward viewscreen to look at her. “Is she? They were taking so long, I was beginning to think that they must be up to something.”
“That remains to be seen,” Maeken remarked. “There is something about the way she just jumped up and started a run straight at us that makes me think she knows exactly how to handle us. Marenna Challenger?”
“Yes, Captain?”
“Turn your forward battery to meet that ship, then shield your engines,” she ordered sharply. “Give full power to your hull shields. Open fire as soon as the Methryn comes into range.”
“Yes, Captain.”
Maeken sat back for a long moment, staring in silence at the Methryn’s projected path on the central monitor of her console. Donalt Trace became curious about what she could be thinking, and slowly walked over to stand looking unobtrusively over her shoulder. He thought he understood. The Methryn was moving fast, and projected to pass at one-half light speed. And she would pass only two thousand kilometers to one side. That was not very far, not at that speed, and much nearer than he would have expected.
“Do you know what they are up to?” he asked at last.
“Perhaps,” Maeken mused. “They might be thinking — with some justification — that their weapons track better than our own. Or rather, that they can move too fast for our weapons to track. By moving fast enough, they can sneak through an attack run with little risk of serious damage.”
“For all the good it does them,” Trace remarked contemptuously. “A few seconds of cannonfire each run will get them nowhere.”
“True, but it does waste time for more ships to arrive,” Maeken pointed out. “Or, if she is carrying nuclear or conversion missiles, this is exactly the type of run she would make. And where is the Kalvyn? We hurt her, but she is still perfectly capable of a stiff fight.”
Commander Trace did not reply; there was hardly any need. If Velmeran knew that help was coming, he needed only to keep the Challenger occupied until a number of carriers converged on the vast warship. And if the Methryn was carrying a score of high-energy warheads, this battle would be a short one. The quartzite shielding could turn such an explosion, but not a sustained barrage. Quartzite shielding was incredibly brittle; the smallest crack would spread in seconds to peel the shell off the entire ship. And the heavy outer shield was useless against missiles.
“Stand by,” Maeken warned the bridge crew. “Marenna Challenger, remember to fire as soon as possible. The Methryn is going to be moving into your bolts.”
“Yes, Captain,” the ship responded. “I calculate approximately seven seconds of effective firing time on the Methryn’s approach, with only about three as she passes. Beginning the count in five seconds from… now.”
It was as if the entire ship snapped to attention as console after console on the Challenger’s vast bridge leaped into life. Five separate scanning and tracking systems identified the target for hundreds of cannons, and each cannon locked on, not on the Methryn herself but where she would be. A moment later those same consoles hummed with frantic activity as over half the Challenger’s guns opened fire, shooting well ahead of their fast-moving target so that their bolts would be there in time to intercept the Methryn.
The two ships closed to range and, for two full seconds, exchanged a fierce barrage of fire. Then the Methryn was rocked by an explosion so intense that, for a moment, she actually disappeared from scan in the violent backwash of energy. The Challenger ceased fire immediately. Then the Methryn shot past, still and lifeless, her original course deflected slightly by the force of that explosion. She was tumbling already, her bow dipping as she began to roll end over end.
“We got her?” Commander Trace asked in the stunned silence that enveloped the entire bridge.
“I think…,” Maeken answered hesitantly in her disbelief.
“An apparent hit on the Methryn’s main generators amid-ship,” Marenna Challenger reported with her usual calm detachment. “I scan only emergency power in effect. The Methryn is drifting out of control.”
“Open fire!” Maeken snapped impatiently.
“The Methryn is out of my range.”
“Then follow her! Chase her down! Pursue at your best speed until you have her back in range,” Maeken ordered, repeating herself, in what was becoming a habit, to be certain that she was understood. She turned to Donalt Trace. “Hold on, Commander.”
Trace hurried to a spare seat at the rear of the bridge. Union ships did not increase their gravity to counter acceleration, since ordinary humans could not endure the extra stress. Instead they cut gravity and counted on everyone being in a seat. The Challenger swung her blunt nose around and began to accelerate, and she had a surprising amount of jump for her size. Even so, the Methryn, drifting at one-half light, was leaving her far behind.
“How long?” Trace asked.
“Marenna is pushing herself to the limit,” Maeken reported. “Even so, we’re looking at seven minutes to match her speed and another nine to overtake her. I have already ordered the stingships to intercept her packs and keep them clear. Surveillance just reported that the Kalvyn is coming after us in a hurry, but we will overtake the Methryn first.”
“We have to disable the Methryn completely in time to meet the Kalvyn,” Commander Trace said. “Only missiles will catch her now. Give her a pair.”
“The Methryn has no shields,” Maeken informed him.
“I want that ship as intact as possible,” Trace ordered. “Set the missiles to explode close enough to give her a good, stiff jolt.”
“Right.” Maeken quickly relayed the order. The Challenger needed only an instant to ready and fire the two missiles, which shot away on flaring star drives.
“Two missiles are away,” the ship reported. “Estimated impact in three minutes, eleven seconds. The Methryn has restored directional control.”
“What?” Maeken demanded, and checked her own scanner monitors. The Methryn’s power levels remained practically nonexistent, although she had apparently found the power for field-drive steering. She had ceased her slow tumble and now flew straight and level, although she continued to drift. That meant that the Methryn was repairing herself, recircuiting auxiliary power back into her main systems. The missiles had already covered a third of the distance to their target; Maeken silently urged them on, hoping that they would disable the Methryn somewhat more permanently before she recovered any more control.
Seconds passed, and the two missiles gained steadily on their target. At fifteen seconds to detonation, they armed their warheads and moved into position so that one would pass below the carrier and one above, only a kilometer separating them, catching the Starwolf ship in the worst of the concussion between the two. That was hardly enough to destroy the Methryn, even without hull shields, mostly because space was a very poor conductor of energy, but it should slow down the repairs. But the situation resolved itself quickly. The Methryn caught both missiles just two seconds short of their target with a couple of precise shots from her rear cannons.
Maeken Kea muttered a favorite oath of her home world. “Well, that answers that. Now we have to catch her ourselves.”
That still seemed likely enough, as long as the Methryn did not save herself. The chase continued, and the Challenger gained steadily. Then, just as the larger ship had closed half the distance between them, the Methryn turned her bow nearly forty degrees and engaged her main drives. It seemed that she was certain to escape, but after only seven seconds her power failed again to leave her drifting. And yet the thrust, as short as it had been,
