Tactical Error

“No, I think not,” he said. “Without the Starwolves, the Republic has only a fraction of the strength of the Union. Two carriers could go through the Republic Militia in a matter of days. Twenty or so carriers would be overkill, except that they do make a very powerful weapon of negotiation.”

“Twenty or so carriers moving in formation would frighten anyone.”

“Coming into range in forty seconds,” Valthyrra reported. He looked up at her. “Can you make it into starflight by then?”

“If we give our run a couple of more G’s, then make the jump just a little premature.”

Velmeran nodded. “Do it.”

“Coming into visual range of the nearest drone,” Valthyrra reported.

Valthyrra centered the main image of her viewscreen on the scan of the nearest defense drone, sitting almost directly in their path. As black as space itself, its triangular hull was in most ways like that of a carrier, short of nose and lacking a tail to house a stardrive. Velmeran stood for a moment, watching the drone.

“Cut acceleration,” he said suddenly. “Cut across its path at the very outside limit of its range, shield to full, but do not return fire.”

“Well… sure,” Valthyrra agreed reluctantly, obviously confused. She relayed the order to a pair of very perplexed carriers. “Stand by.”

The three carriers suddenly turned sharply, banking steeply to show their relatively unprotected bellies to the drone as they skimmed the outside range of its cannons. The automated warship opened fire, but at that distance even its efficient tracking sensors could not lock on target effectively and the volley of shots, already dissipating, went wide. The carriers began to accelerate again, moving out of range, and the drone moved to follow them, but it could never hope to match their speed before they were gone. A few moments later they disappeared into starflight.

Valthyrra turned her camera pod to stare at Velmeran. “You wanted that thing to shoot at us.”

He shrugged helplessly. “Who says that a Starwolf cannot learn to play politics? Laroose says that Delike and his friends are hanging on the very edge of public condemnation as it is, and they just shot first at poor Starwolves who were only running for their lives. Now we can go see what Lenna thinks will be the end of civilization as we know it.”

6

Keflyn turned and looked up into the cool, clear morning sky, watching the Thermopylae’s shuttle as it circled around to land. She had not yet seen the unpowered landing of the odd little spacecraft, and she definitely wanted to see this. The shuttle had already brought its wings all the way forward and was now rolling back its flaps. Riding the wind, it shook and dipped in a manner that Keflyn would have ordinarily considered to be bordering on a loss of control. Descending over the runway, it lifted its nose at the last moment and settled onto its rear wheels. Still rolling at a fairly high speed, it dropped its nose until the forward wheels touched down as well. Additional braking flaps in the wings and to either side of the tail snapped open to assist the regular brakes in slowing the ship. It slowed quickly but with obvious strain, turning off the runway and pulling to a stop only a few meters from where Derrighan and Keflyn watched.

“That always amazes me,” she remarked.

“That it flies?” the Feldenneh asked.

“No, that anyone would fly it.”

The nose of the shuttle split, moving open to either side, and the cargo ramp rolled out. They approached the ramp, careful of the outer shell of the ship, which was still radiating considerable heat acquired through its rather inadequate shields. She did know from experience that the ship would be too hot to touch for some time.

“I am not entirely thrilled by this,” Keflyn commented in the Feldenneh language, to be very sure that Jon Addesin did not overhear her. “Are you absolutely certain that your cargo scout cannot be repaired?”

“You have not seen what is left of it,” Derrighan answered, and his regret was genuine. If they had not needed Jon Addesin’s skyvan, they would not have needed Jon Addesin.

They entered the shuttle’s long, narrow bay, which, Keflyn had always been interested to note, was decked in worn, scratched wood. The skyvan was lashed down in the center of the bay, held to the deck by a web of cargo straps. It reminded Keflyn somewhat of a very small version of a Starwolf transport, a long, rectangular hull with a blunt nose that contained the narrow cockpit, the rest of the craft given over to a cargo hold. It had no wings or control surfaces, relying entirely upon field drives, with pairs of retractable wheels in front and rear for land use.

“I am somewhat relieved,” Keflyn commented as she began removing the cargo straps. “It seems to be in a much higher state of preservation than the rest of the ship.”

“Considering what you were able to dismantle and carry with you, I suppose that you might have squeezed a ship of your own into two more bags,” Derrighan remarked.

“So there you are,” Jon Addesin declared cheerfully as he descended the ladder from the cockpit. “I hope you’re ready. We can be on our way as soon as we can roll this baby out of the bay.”

Keflyn paused to stare at him. He was up to something, excited, nervous and just a bit desperate, and acting very hard as if nothing was wrong. There was now a timetable that she did not understand. For some reason, he wanted this expedition done as soon as possible, although she was not telepathic enough with humans to determine more. She doubted that it was anything more than the launch of a major campaign to seduce her.

“Is your handsome pet going along?” he asked next, which suggested that her guess was correct.

“I have duties of my own to attend here,” Derrighan answered vaguely, his annoyance obvious at that less- than-subtle derogatory comment.

The young Feldenneh had first meant to go along, but according to their plan, he was now to stay behind in the event of trouble. If Keflyn could not return, he had been taught to assemble and use her achronic transceiver to call in the Methryn. He was also the colony’s only qualified pilot and helm. If necessary, he could use Addesin’s own shuttle to take a boarding party up to commandeer the Thermopylae. This was by no means Keflyn’s idea, but her capitulation of the fears of both Derrighan and Kalmedhae. Whatever secret the Feldenneh were hiding on this icy world, they were unusually fearful over it.

Addesin was perfectly true to his word on one point. The little transport was already loaded with all of the supplies they needed for their journey, so that Keflyn needed only to toss on board her personal belongings. One thing that she insisted upon taking was a good supply of food that she had selected. Kelvessan had to eat prodigiously to maintain their fierce metabolism, and they generally did not share human tastes.

They were under way in a matter of minutes, traveling west and south over the lesser mountains to the plains and light forests beyond. The skyvan was a game little flyer but it was hardly capable of supersonic flights; at its best speed of about 300 kilometers per hour, they would still need the rest of the day to cross half a continent to reach their destination. Jon Addesin was as secretive as the Feldenneh about their destination, but for his own reasons. He was enjoying what he considered to be dramatic effect.

They were passing over one area of scattered plains and light forests when Addesin suddenly turned the skyvan sharply to one side and began to climb steeply. Keflyn knew an evasive maneuver when she saw one.

“What is it?” she asked.

“Spark dragon,” he explained simply.

“What?” Keflyn asked incredulously. Spark dragons were native to a world very far away. The large, flying mammals possessed a sonic blast that was as powerful as a disrupter at short range. Contrary to their names, they generated no electricity at all, although their sonic beam caused metal to throw bright sparks as it was molecularly disrupted. That made them dangerous even to the skyvan, or at least its vulnerable electronics.

“Let me show you something especially interesting,” Addesin said, turning the skyvan toward an open area of the plains.

He slowed the transport as they crossed the distance quickly, no more than a couple of kilometers, and