it still had its complete array of weapons and could probably defend itself as well as ever. She launched a spread of six missiles, each carrying conversion devices and given a very precise set of instructions. The missiles did not attempt to strike the Dreadnought itself but paced it, moving in close beside its massive hull before detonating. Shaken by that rapid series of concussions, the Dreadnought lost power and dropped down out of starflight.
When it again began building its remaining generators to an overload, Valthyrra accepted that gesture as an honest one and remained in starflight to take herself to safety as quickly as possible. That was just as well for her. The Dreadnought’s generators reached their capacity in a matter of seconds, and the explosion of the first caused a cascade of detonation through the complete power array. The Dreadnought was consumed in a sudden blast that was quite literally equal to that of an exploding star, its cumulative capacity for self-destruction far greater than anyone had anticipated. At least its brief run into starflight had carried it well outside the system, and its passing did no harm to anything except itself.
Valthyrra Methryn circled around to collect her fighters, and to make a final check for survivors.
12
Captain Janus Tarrel did not accompany the Starwolves back to their base at Alkayja station. While the freighter Taerregyn carried the damaged carrier Destaen home for extensive repairs, the Methryn and the Vardon had remained in system for a time to attempt to salvage the wreck of the Kerridayen and search for additional survivors, including the ship itself. Commander Daerran and his bridge crew were still missing and none of the ship’s memory units that had been located so far had survived intact, but the Starwolves still had some hope that the Kerridayen herself could still be rebuilt; as much as sixty percent of the carrier’s hull, including her forward-thrust main drives, her star drives and her generators, were still reasonably intact or could be repaired. The ship itself would probably fly again, after years of refitting, and possibly with a new guiding sentience.
As much as she wanted to stay with the Starwolves a while yet, Captain Tarrel left the Methryn within hours of the destruction of the Dreadnought. Because the Starwolves had been able to intercept the alien weapon before it could attack, the local system, including the System Fleet, had survived undamaged. After the System Commander had made contact with the Starwolves, he offered a heavy cruiser for her use. Hardly two hours later, she found herself on her way to Vinthra with only the special armor that had been made for her and a great many new aches to remind her of her time among the Starwolves. When Valthyrra Methryn had moved to intercept the Dreadnought during its attempt to escape, she had used some very sharp accelerations.
Tarrel did not believe that the Starwolves simply wanted to be rid of her now that her usefulness was at an end. The circumstances of her sudden departure had not been of their contrivance, nor did they operate in that manner in the first place. In fact, they were very anxious to know if the Union intended to extend the truce now that the Dreadnought was destroyed, and they looked upon her as an important source of information. But she had been given the means to leave, and no one could think of any good reason for her to stay.
Since she was once again only a passenger on someone else’s ship, she had time to wonder whether or not she had unfinished business with the Starwolves. She wanted very much to be able to encourage them to re- evaluate their standing with the Republic and to seek their own destiny. That seemed certainly to be in the best interests of the Kelvessan themselves and she believed that it would also be in the best interests of her own kind, if not necessarily best for the Union. At the same time, she knew only too well that the actions she contemplated would be viewed as improper if not actually treasonous by the Union, and she remained a Union Captain with all the duties and moral responsibilities that involved. So perhaps it was just as well that the matter had been decided for her, even though she could not escape the feeling that this was not yet over.
The massive military and commercial complexes above Vinthra had survived intact only by virtue of the fact that the Dreadnought had not come here. And that had been entirely a matter of chance. That sprawling array of docking components, warehouses and repair facilities would have been one of the most tempting targets in Union space, if the Dreadnought had known of its existence, and it certainly could not have been moved to safety. Captain Tarrel watched the final approach to station through the wide bank of windows in the cruiser’s lounge, wondering if she would see her own Carthaginian nosed in to a docking, slip, although she was not surprised when she did not. She was able to see only a small proportion of the ships moored at the station, and there was even the chance that Carthaginian was out running errands at the moment.
After all that she had been through, she almost expected some recognition of her efforts. Still, she was practical enough not to be surprised when no one was there to meet her as she came off the ship. She arranged to have her bags sent to visiting officer’s quarters on the station, then presented herself at Sector Commander Victor Lake’s office. At least he was on station at that time, but he was away for the moment. His personal secretary was away also, and the computer indicated that she was welcome to wait. Since only the computer was there to look at her, she elected to stay rather than leave a message. The fact that Lake was due back at any moment decided the matter, since she did not feel like waiting long for anyone.
Victor Lake arrived in a hurry, glancing at her briefly and without much concern on his way through the outer office to his own. Then he stopped short and stared. “Janus Tarrel? What the hell are you doing here?”
“What am I doing here?” she asked, then paused and made a face. Since she had not asked the Starwolves to send a message, the news had not arrived any faster than herself. “Of course, you don’t know. The Dreadnought is dead, blasted to little tiny pieces these last nine days.”
“So the Starwolves finally came through,” Lake commented. “We were beginning to think that they were waiting to see us whipped first.”
“The Starwolves took a real beating for our sakes,” Tarrel said sharply. “They did the best they could. You had my reports.”
“We took quite a beating ourselves,” Lake insisted. “I’m not asking for sympathy after all you’ve been through, but I’ve had the Combined Council and the heads of every trade company demanding to know what I was doing. I must have invented half a million ways to avoid telling them that the matter was out of my hands. Do you tell people like that to sit tight and trust in the Starwolves? Why don’t we go into my office.”
She followed him through the inner doors into his office, where he went immediately to the bar and began preparing drinks for them both as if that was his most pressing duty of the moment. Tarrel wondered if she looked like she needed it; her weeks among the Starwolves had left her fairly beat up, but she had had time since then to recover. If he was to be serving drinks, then she decided to help herself to the stuffed leather sofa, reclining sideways across its length to encourage him to take the chair opposite.
“Why did you send me that Walter Pesky person?” she asked sourly; her opinion of the departed had not improved in the weeks since his death. “Was nobody aware of the severity of his xenophobia?”
“Apparently not,” Lake insisted. “The only thing in his record was praise for his precise, diplomatic politeness in dealing with aliens, due no doubt to the fact that he secretly hated and feared them. It seems that he only lost it once in his career, but then he lost it all the way.”
“Well, it was partly my own fault for not sending him home when I should have,” Tarrel admitted. “I was just afraid of leaving him alone and completely unsupervised until they had a ship free to bring him back. Of course, my only concern was that he might do something to embarass us politically.”
“I can hardly imagine anyone putting anything over on Starwolves. They deal with their enemies fairly harshly.”
“Their enemies, yes. We were theoretically friends and allies by that time, and Starwolves can be so damned trusting with anyone they consider their friend. You probably have to know them better to believe that.”
“No, I’ve heard something to that effect before.” He handed her a glass, then settled with his own drink in the chair opposite her. “Drump nut liqueur in iced mint tea. I still recall your odd drinking habits.”
“I was never a serious drinker in the first place,” she reminded him, taking a quick swallow. “When did you start keeping mint tea at hand?”
“Since I knew that you would be coming back here when your mission was done.”
She nodded absently. “What about my ship?”
“Actually, I seem to recall that the Carthaginian is out running errands somewhere in the Sector. She should be back within the next few days, which means that you get a short vacation.” Tarrel shrugged. “I’m in no state of
