“No doubt,” Trace agreed, then paused to stare at her. “If you want to finish dressing, I suppose it might be safe for you to leave the ship in my care for a few minutes.”
“I would like a dry uniform.”
“And what about yourself, Mr. Skerri?” Trace asked of the junior officer. “You look like you need to visit the sick bay for a couple of aspirin.”
“Yes, sir. I would appreciate that.”
Lieutenant Skerri retreated gratefully from the bridge. His back ached fiercely, and his head hurt even more. All the same, he meant to return to the bridge as quickly as he could. His awe and respect for Commander Trace did not blind him to the fact that the old man was a mediocre battle commander at best. If he hurried, he might get back before Captain Kea left.
“Could you help me for a moment?”
Lieutenant Skerri stopped just short of the lift and peered at the small female figure dimly outlined in the darkened side corridor. “Yes, what is it?”
“Well, there seems to be a bit of trouble at hand, and I really need an officer of some standing to help me.”
“I’m Lieutenant Captain Denas Skerri,” he explained, trying to identify the crewmember.
“Sure, you can’t get much higher than that,” she agreed. “Tell me, do you happen to see that sentry standing behind you?”
He turned quickly and saw a sentry standing motionless in the shadows of the opposite corridor, not two meters from where he stood.
“Yes, I see him. What of it?”
“Well, it’s a most peculiar thing. He said that if you don’t do exactly as I tell you, he’ll blow your damned head off.”
“He does?” Skerri asked in complete mystification. Then the little wheels inside his head gave a convulsive jerk. “Hey, what is this?”
He turned abruptly back to the girl and found himself staring down the business end of a gun. “Actually, I’ll shoot you myself if you don’t do exactly as I say. Now, you just go ahead and call the lift. The three of us are going for a little ride.”
The Challenger moved cautiously up the long corridor leading outward from the planet, laid by the Methryn to accelerate the massive rock toward her target. At the top of the run the Methryn’s corridor turned sharply and settled into a path that formed a more or less stable orbit. The Fortress accelerated to her best speed as she returned to the chase. She had only just achieved her maximum velocity when she shot past the Methryn, hidden in the ring a short distance to one side. Even at a relative speed of nearly a kilometer per second, it took her half a minute to pass.
“There she goes,” Valthyrra announced as she brought up just enough power for her debris shields to deflect the rocks pushed aside by the Challenger.
Mayelna turned to look at her. “All I saw was a big, black shadow moving extremely fast. Are you ready?”
“Ready,” the ship agreed. “I will begin powering up as soon as the Challenger is well out of range and follow five minutes behind until the time comes to move in.”
Maeken Kea reviewed the scan data for the third time. Readings inside this highly charged nightmare were suspect to begin with. And it certainly seemed too good to be true, which meant to her that it probably was. She did not believe in luck. But the evidence remained, and she did not believe that static distortion could have altered the scanner reading so completely.
“It must be so,” she agreed, although her reluctance was plain. “They are towing the Methryn.”
“If the scan of energy emissions is at all accurate, that is the only explanation,” Trace insisted.
“What convinces me is this additional evidence. Look at their orbital projections.” She called up the data and a diagram on her monitor. ‘Their orbit is a slow spiral inward toward the planet, taking advantage of gravity to help maintain their speed. They’re doing everything they can to keep that ship moving. The question is, did they break down or shut down?”
“Care to make an educated guess?”
Maeken shrugged. “It hardly matters either way. The important thing is that the Methryn is no longer moving under her own power. If we are going to catch her, it is going to be now.”
The corridor opened onto a chamber of some size, which in turn served only as a balcony for a greater chamber beyond. Although it shared the same high ceiling, they could see that it dropped down at least one full level and appeared to be about forty meters wide by at least a hundred long. The three Starwolves could see little of the floor below, although they could make out a similar balcony on the far side and an entrance where the main corridor on this level picked up again.
“Security region,” Velmeran remarked as they paused at the doorway. “We are on the far edge of the Kalfethki quarters.”
“How do you know that?” Consherra asked.
“Airlock,” he explained, pointing to the double doors immediately behind them. “We were supposed to be a level above this.”
“Then what are we waiting for?”
“I prefer to meet them here,” he said as he began to ready his weapons. Baress did the same, although Consherra was too surprised to do anything but stare in disbelief. He indicated for her to set the controls on her rifle. “Single shot, full power will be most effective. At least we have two chances to salvage this mission. The Kalfethki will not call up to the bridge until they have defeated us. Also, their weapons are kept under lock, so that all they will have to fight us will be their ceremonial swords.”
“Why do we have to fight them in the first place?” Consherra demanded.
“They already have us cut off.”
Velmeran advanced cautiously to one of the two sets of stairs leading down from each corner of the alcove. Towering Kalfethki warriors. began streaming into the larger room below, stalking along in their awkward saurian gait with surprising speed. A smaller army was loping along the main corridor behind them, cutting off any retreat. All were armed with long, curved swords, with heavy blades two meters or more in length and quite capable of cutting a Starwolf in half, armor and all.
The three Kelvessan took up a defensive position on the steps, Velmeran at the bottom and Baress guarding the top. The Kalfethki continued to come, first by the dozens and then by the hundreds, until they filled the main chamber and overflowed into the alcoves. Velmeran knew their thoughts, and he could sense their eagerness and complete lack of fear. They had no concern for wars, for defending this ship or serving their temporary masters. They wanted either the honor of the kill or their own death, with a slight preference for the former.
Velmeran tried to keep this in mind, for this fight was to the death. Within himself there was a quiet shift of character, the coldly efficient killing machine he was designed to be replacing the true personality that was in itself incapable of violence. It was this duality of instinct that explained the puzzle of Kelvessan behavior, of how the most innocent and harmless of people in known space were also the most deadly warriors.
The press of saurian forms opened silently before him, forming a narrow corridor through the crowd. An older warrior, his battle harness decorated with at least two score badges of honor, advanced in slow stateliness, his weapon held upright. Behind him walked two more warriors and behind them a group of four. Others followed.
“A challenge,” Velmeran explained to his companions. “The first challenge is given to the senior warrior. With each challenge, the number of challengers is multiplied by two.”
“Quaint custom!” Consherra remarked. “What happens when you pass the challenges?”
“In theory, you do not survive the challenges. Challenge is issued only to a warrior who is hopelessly outnumbered, trapped, or otherwise doomed. They are not offering a chance to survive, just a chance for both sides to face death with all possible honor.”
“Would it be foolish of me to ask if you have a plan?” she inquired.
“Yes. At my order, Baress and I will use our guns to hold them back long enough for you to blast a hole through the floor just large enough for us to slip through. If we can escape, the Kalfethki will be so dishonored that they will go back to their cabins and begin the ritual of mass suicide.”
The crowd had gradually pulled back, allowing ample room for the combatants. The first warrior waited silently as a warrior from the second group came forward to present Velmeran with a pair of swords — a remarkable concession — one for each hand. Velmeran took the weapons, the smallest the Kalfethki could find but still as long as he was tall, and swung them experimentally. He handed one sword to Consherra, then removed his helmet to give himself a clear view.
Velmeran approached the seasoned warrior, the sword in his upper hands held in the same upright salute. The Kalfethki lowered his sword slightly in a gesture of recognition and dived in, suddenly drawing back for a vicious swing. Velmeran’s major advantage was his speed, and he used it now, striking and pulling back faster than the mortal eye could follow. The Kalfethki paused and toppled backward over his massive tail. The Starwolf had slipped the blade between his ribs, through his heart, and on through his chest to severe his spine.
For the first time the gathered warriors broke their silence, muttering their surprise and approval before falling silent again. A couple of younger members stepped forward to retrieve the body, and the second set of challengers took his place. They had learned something from the mistake of the first warrior about underestimating the lightning-quick speed of their tiny adversary. Velmeran seemed almost to disappear as they swung their heavy weapons in unison, only to come up beneath their swords and fell them both before they had time to recover. The Kalfethki were impressed, to say the least.
“Three to nothing, my favor,” Velmeran remarked quietly as he retrieved his second sword. “Stand ready, now. I count five challenges; that means thirty-two in the last. I believe that I can take them all — they are incredibly slow — and a Kalfethki carcass is quite an obstacle in itself. Thirty-two should be an effective barricade. You start to work on the floor at my signal.”
“Are you sure that you can handle this alone?” she asked.
“I have to. Besides, this swordplay seems to come quite naturally. I should have been a pirate.”
“You are a pirate, among other things,” she reminded him.