“Lenna Makayen, our artist in residence and expert Starwolf impersonator,” Mayelna said.
“Well, I can see how she could get away with it,” Tryn said, smiling reassuringly in the mistaken belief that Lenna was shy. If he had not been distracted by other thoughts, he would have realized that shy people did not sneak aboard Starwolf carriers. He glanced around quickly. “Oh, this is our Helm Keldryn and our Commander-designate Denlayk.”
“Hello,” the pair said in unison.
Mayelna frowned, deciding that matters had deteriorated from bad to ridiculous and that she had better put a quick end to this before the conversation drifted into areas she had no wish to explore. “I suppose that we should get down to the business that brought us here. Valthyrra is waiting.”
They retreated quickly to the third and smallest of the council rooms behind the bridge. Valthyrra was indeed waiting, the camera on its short boom above the oval table glaring as they took their seats.
“Were you aware that Daelyn has been made Commander-designate of the Karvand?” Mayelna asked suddenly. “The Karvand fought with us at Vannkarn, and again a few months later.”
“I had heard that she had been made Commander-designate,” Tryn replied. “And Velmeran’s raid into Vannkarn is a matter of legend. But then, everything Velmeran does assumes legendary proportions.”
“Then I suppose that we have the making of another here,” she said, and turned to Velmeran. “Tryn is Daelyn’s father.”
“Is that a fact?” Velmeran answered guardedly.
Valthyrra, who had missed the previous conversation out in the hall, glanced about in complete mystification. Her gaze passed over Commander Tryn and she did a quick double take, then looked at Velmeran and back again. Several of the others, observing her, were trying not to laugh.
“Ah… if we could get on with the business at hand,” she began uncertainly, her camera pod rotating around to center on the Kalvyn’s probe, seated astride the arms of the chair beside Lenna. “If you will begin.”
“Yes, we will start with an analysis of this machine that Donalt Trace has built himself,” Schayressa said, and employed a video link with Valthyrra to project her intricate scans of the Challenger on the large viewscreen beside the table. Using this to illustrate her explanations, she began a very careful accounting of the Fortress and how its various systems functioned… and why it was so invulnerable.
Lenna, watching from the edge of the discussion, noticed that Schayressa was directing her explanation at Velmeran, and that there was some unspoken consent among everyone present that he was very much in command. As she watched, he seemed to grow in character, evolving from the little boy she had met in Kallenes to become the person that legend argued he must be. Perhaps not the daring, devil-may-care hero of her romanticized image but the capable and responsible Commander-designate that his fellow Starwolves trusted and respected.
Schayressa concluded with a step-by-step analysis of her battle with the Challenger, the complex nature of the trap that she had wandered into, and how the Union Commander had quickly and effectively blocked her every move.
“Meran, what do you think?” Mayelna asked as Velmeran sat in thoughtful silence for a long moment.
“Somehow that does not sound to me like the Donald Trace I knew two years ago,” he explained. “Weapons design is his strength, but his idea of strategy is a strong, straightforward drive that either succeeds or fails in its initial thrust. Such subtlety and refinement of strategy simply is not his style.”
Tryn and Schayressa stared at him in amazement.
“Well, you do know your business,” Tryn remarked. “Trace talked to us the moment it was over. He said that he was ‘just along for the ride,’ to use his own words, that a Maeken Kea is the Captain of this ship.”
Velmeran looked up at Valthyrra. “Maeken Kea?”
“A prominent fleet commander of this sector,” she explained. “She outmaneuvered a Starwolf attack force some time ago and actually forced them to withdraw. That probably impressed Don a great deal.”
Velmeran sat back in his chair, both sets of arms crossed, and sat for a long time in silent contemplation. “The problem with this Fortress, even if it did not have quartzite shielding, is that it is simply too big to make a run at the thing and expect to destroy it with regular cannons. Either we find a way to take it apart piece by piece without getting blasted in the process, or we find a way to get past its heavy shielding. What about simultaneous firing of conversion cannons from several ships?”
“That would work, but it would take a simultaneous firing of seven ships to overload that ship,” Schayressa replied. “But there is some hope for sequential firing. The Fortress can only maintain that shield for a few seconds. Two strikes at full power would bring it down, and a third strike would penetrate the quartzite shielding and destroy the ship. But you need three carriers for that.”
“Will a shielded fighter or missile penetrate that outer shield?”
“Oh, certainly. But you need a good, strong shield of your own to guard against being fried by the backwash of energy your ship is going to pick up by induction. But you have to have a thirty-five-megaton explosion directly against the hull to crack the quartzite shielding.”
“Then we are back to the starting point on that problem,” Velmeran said. “We really have no choice. We sit here and wait for another carrier to show up and help us with sequential firing.”
“Two more,” Schayressa corrected him. “I fried the conversion generator in my cannon when I fired it earlier, and nothing short of airdock repairs is going to make it operate again. I anticipated this and sent out the call for additional ships. The Karvand will be here in thirty-six hours, and the frighter Lesdryn twelve hours behind her. The freighters have the same forward battery and conversion cannon, even if they lack our armor.”
“Is this the only way to fight it?” Mayelna asked.
“No, not the only way.” Velmeran said, “We could probably go in and take it apart piece by piece. But lives would be lost and the Methryn would be half wrecked in the process. That is too high a price when we can deal with this matter easily in just two days.”
“I would rather not get my nose shot up if there is an easier way,” Valthyrra agreed.
“There still remains the problem of Tryalna,” Velmeran continued. “If we cannot go through that beast, at least our fighters can go around it. I would like…”
His voice died away into silence as he sat tensely, as if staring at something that no one else could see. He had the same unfocused look of a camera pod while the ship’s attention was elsewhere. For that matter, Valthyrra and Schayressa had the same distant look.
“What is it?” Tryn asked softly, afraid to disturb his concentration.
“The Challenger is moving toward Tryalna,” Velmeran answered. “Perhaps it means to turn its big cannons on planetary targets.”
Everyone paused to listen, although only Velmeran and Consherra had the superior senses to detect the droning of the Fortress’s powerful engines from this distance. Lenna sat looking about in complete bewilderment.
“Valthyrra, can you rush in to distract that ship before it moves into range?” Mayelna asked.
“Too late,” Schayressa said. “The Challenger carries an arsenal of nuclear weapons on missiles with crystal engines.”
Even as she spoke, the Challenger launched a single missile. Driven by a small but powerful engine, it accelerated rapidly for several seconds, then shut down and flipped itself over to prepare for detonation.
“Fifteen seconds to target,” Valthyrra reported. “The only way we could have stopped it would have been to have had fighters waiting in orbit.”
“What target?” Mayelna demanded.
No one answered. The missile decelerated for several seconds, then flipped itself back over and began to orient on its designated target. It hurtled into the atmosphere at impossible speeds, protected by an atmospheric shield that parted a narrow channel of fiery air just ahead of its nose, serving to slow it further.
“Detonation,” Valthyrra announced. “The target was the spaceport of a major industrial center. Since that was a relatively small warhead, the damage was restricted largely to the port itself… which was apparently evacuated at the time. Actual damage was minimal, and I suspect that there was very little loss of life.”
“But why?” Lenna demanded, pale and shaken.
“That seems obvious enough,” Velmeran answered bitterly. “Donalt Trace knows that I am here, and he will do whatever it takes to make me fight him. He will do it again and again until I do. He knows that I must.”
“There does not seem to be any choice,” Valthyrra agreed. “Any thoughts on the subject?”
Velmeran did indeed look very thoughtful. “The Fortress’s shields are dependent upon the tremendous energy generated by its power network. And the more generators we take off the grid, the weaker its combined power for shielding becomes. In theory, we can eventually weaken it to the point that it becomes vulnerable to our attack. Is that not so?”
“Indeed, it seems the only option we have,” Valthyrra replied. “If we do weaken it to such a point, which I calculate to be nine hundred and fifty-two guns remaining of its initial two thousand two hundred, then a single shot of my conversion cannon will short out its defensive shield.”
“That means that you have to shoot out twelve hundred and forty-eight,” Consherra observed. “Why so many?”
“Because most of the power for the shields comes from the larger generators in the engines and the ship itself, which are invulnerable to attack. My calculations are based on the assumption that no engines are shot out. Needless to say, you get more points for shooting out an engine.”
“And when you do shoot out a gun or an engine, you want it to stay that way,” Velmeran continued. “We have to take out that support convoy so that the Fortress cannot repair itself. And we have to get rid of those stingships so that we will be free to concentrate on the Fortress.”