Dreadnought (18 page)

Tarrel
had been told that the pack leaders held the rank of Captain, the same as her
own, because the packs were intended to operate fairly independently once they
were in space and their leader needed the authority to make major strategic
decisions without the time-consuming process of consulting the carrier.

For
that same reason, the senior officer of the carrier itself was not a Captain
but a Commander, ranking higher than the Captains who served under him in the
packs. That was supposedly how the Starwolves had received their name, since
each carrier was in principle an armored and highly mobile base for a group of
wolf packs. Curiously, the Union itself had first given them the name of
Starwolves.

“They
should be coming around any moment now,” Gelrayen warned.

Captain
Tarrel was content to wait, using her time to inspect the bay itself. The bay
was many times wider than it was high, giving the illusion that the ceiling was
much lower than it actually was. And it was rather low by her estimate; she
would not want to fly a relatively large fighter a hundred meters and more down
the length of the bay with only twelve meters or so between floor and ceiling.
The fighters would land near the front of the bay. Where she now stood, she
could see the nine white lines painted on the floor of the bay, with a
corresponding set of handling arms on ceiling tracks above. A massive framework
called a rack waited to receive the fighter once it was down and secured. The rack
had a double function preventing the fighter from being thrown around the
inside of the ship by sudden turns, and serving as a launching platform for the
fighter. When not in use, the fighters were carried in their racks to a
separate holding bay.

“Will
the packs be of any help to you in fighting the Dreadnought,” she asked.

Gelrayen
shook his head. “No, not at all. I would not even dare to send them out, since
even a minor hit from the Dreadnought’s discharge beams would be the end of a
fighter.”

“Then
you could easily do without them now,” she observed.

“I
suppose. We are just so used to thinking of the packs as the carrier’s defense
that we will feel better for having them. And you never really know just what
you might find useful.”

The
arrival of the pack was sudden and rather alarming. The first of the black
fighters suddenly whipped around the station in a swift turn, through the outer
doors of the construction bay, and directly into the Methryn’s landing bay at a
speed that Captain Tarrel would have considered sufficient for an attack run.
It dropped its speed quickly once it was inside the landing bay, extending its
slender landing gear, its long-legged stance meant to accommodate its
down-swept wings. The fighter drew itself to an abrupt halt only three meters
from where they stood beside Its rack, hovering for a moment before lowering
itself slowly to the deck. The second fighter was already on its way in by that
time.

The
landing of all nine fighters in the pack was accomplished in less than a minute.
The handling arms came in to pin the fighter to the deck, a needless precaution
aboard a carrier that was not in flight. Once the engines and generators were
shut down, the fighter was lifted so that its landing gear could be retracted
and it was then moved forward into its rack. Members of the bay crew hurried in
to lock the fighter into the rack and slide forward the boarding platform.

Gelrayen
himself tended the middle fighter, ascending the boarding platform as the
canopy was raised, helping the pilot to release the seat straps and remove his
helmet. Tarrel recalled that he had been a pack leader himself until only a few
months earlier, and that, like all Commanders, he still missed flying with the
packs and probably always would. As he helped the pack leader remove his
helmet, a lone Starwolf fighter slipped relatively sedately into the bay and
settled to the deck behind the lead fighter. This arrival was clearly a
last-minute addition, since Valthyrra was only just bringing out its rack after
it had landed, while two extra members of the bay crew hurried to assist the
pilot.

Gelrayen
returned a moment later, followed by the pack leader in black armor. “Captain,
this is pack leader Teraln. He is to be the Methryn’s new Commander-designate,
although the real purpose for his existence is to do all the things that I wish
I could be doing for myself.”

“I’m
Captain Janus Tarrel,” she introduced herself. “There is no real purpose to my
existence at the moment, but I’m supposed to be useful in the near future. Are
the packs only now beginning to transfer aboard?”

“We
should all be here within the next couple of days,” Teraln explained. “My pack
transferred here with five others aboard the freighter Fyrdenna Lesdryn. The
other four should already be on Alkayja station.”

“The
first four arrived on station nearly two weeks ago,” Gelrayen said. “Listen, I
need your help. I will be giving every moment I can spare to this ship until
this business is over. Will you watch over the packs and make certain that they
get settled comfortably?”

“Yes,
certainly,” Teraln insisted.

The
pilot of the lone fighter walked over to join them, a female Kelvessan in full
flight armor of command white. Tarrel was surprised to see that, since she had
believed that only the pilots flew the fighters. Since her hair was somewhat
ruffled from being inside the helmet, she somehow looked even younger and more
delicate than most of her kind. Gelrayen was watching her with great interest
and some mystification.

“Kayendel,
reporting aboard as first officer,” she announced formally, although she did
not salute. Starwolves, at least in Tarrel’s experience, never saluted, perhaps
because they could not decide upon which arm to use.

“I
already have a first officer,” Gelrayen commented. “Not to reflect upon your
welcome here, of course. Is there something going on here that I should know
about?”

“Because
of my previous battle experience with the Dreadnought as the first officer of
the Vardon, I have transferred positions with the Methryn’s original first officer,”
she explained. “Fleet Commander Asandi and Valthyrra Methryn herself approved
the transfer.”

“Oh,
well. No need for anyone to bother me with little details,” Gelrayen commented
sourly.

“This
all happened in the past thirty minutes,” she said. “I was unaware that you had
not been consulted. Perhaps I should not have come aboard so quickly, but I
thought that I might be needed.”

“No,
you are needed,” he assured her. “Especially if you have had some experience
with the Dreadnought. The more of that I can have aboard this ship, the better
I will like it. For the duration of this mission, I want you to be near the
bridge at all times. Take one of the visitor’s cabins behind the bridge.”

“Yes,
Commander.”

They
looked around as Valthyrra lifted the fighters in their racks and began moving
them in a neat parade toward the storage bay. The members of Teraln’s pack
gathered about in a loose group, having collected their things from the storage
compartments of their fighters.

“We
will have more packs coming in here any moment now, since we have only two bays
operational,” Gelrayen observed. “I should at least make certain that the packs
get settled into their cabins.”

“I
should go settle into my own cabin and then present myself on the bridge,”
Kayendel added as she began to gather up her rather large bundles, which a
member of the bay crew had brought her.

“I
think that I will go along,” Captain Tarrel added. “Would you like for me to
take one of those?”

She
tried to lift the case that was still on the ground, only to find that it
probably weighed as much as herself. Kayendel took the case in her one
remaining hand, although she was already carrying bundles at least as large in
her other three hands. “I really should have warned you that these are all my
worldly goods, all quarter ton of them. Did you hurt yourself?”

“No,
I could have lifted it,” Tarrel insisted. “I just wouldn’t want to carry it
far. I haven’t seen much evidence of Starwolves doing the things that make them
legendary, so I forgot about your strength.”

They
had started toward the side of the bay and the lift that would take them to the
bridge. Kayendel carried her load easily, as if so much weight was still of
small consequence to her, even though she also wore her armor. Tarrel had
sometimes felt tempted to dismiss much of what she had always been told about
Starwolves as mythical, the product of fear and exaggeration. They were not
cruel and they did not engage in strange practices. They were very pleasant and
intelligent, but in some ways very innocent. But certain claims about their
tremendous strength were probably true.

“You
can certainly tell that Commander Gelrayen came up from the packs very
recently,” the Kelvessan remarked. “Theralda Vardon warned me that a new
Commander will find every excuse to stay near the packs and the fighters for a
long time afterward.”

Tarrel
pressed the button to call the lift, but one was waiting for them. Valthyrra
Methryn had probably anticipated the need. They entered and began their long
ride to the bridge. Kayendel took the sharp acceleration of the lift with
complete ease, in spite of her burden.

“I
obviously don’t need to ask if you are getting tired,” Tarrel observed. “Just
how strong are you, anyway?”

“Oh,
I would never want you to think that I am just showing off,” Kayendel said. “I
am really not as strong as some of the pilots; part of the reason I did not
stay with the packs.”

“Please
brag a little.”

She
smiled. “We do have to exercise regularly, just to live with these muscles. I
can lift about four tons with either set of arms. Using both sets of arms and
putting my back into it, I can move about ten.”

Tarrel
frowned. “I used to be proud of that ninety kilo bench press.”

The
Kelvessan watched her pensively. “If I can speak freely without fear of being insulting,
I must admit that you are not at all what I expected. I was prepared to dislike
having you aboard my ship.”

“Is
that a fact?” Tarrel asked, quietly amused.

“In
the last seventy years, I have probably had port leave on more Union worlds
than even you have ever visited,” she explained. “Until now, I have never had
much reason to think that your people were either very interesting or
well-mannered.”

“It
was probably the circumstances. I suspect that you Starwolves tend to forget
just how frightening you can be, stalking about in that heavy armor. It makes
you look twice as big.” Kayendel looked confused. “Our armor keeps us cool in
your warm environments. But I suppose I know what you mean. Actually, we try to
keep your people afraid of us. There are many times that we do not have to
fight because our reputation keeps us safe.”

The
lift stopped in the corridor outside the left wing of the bridge, and they
followed that corridor back behind the bridge itself, past the various meeting
rooms, to the block of visitor’s cabins. Kayendel selected a cabin that was
adjacent to, but smaller than the suite that Captain Tarrel had been given.

She
looked around in great curiosity. “This is a remarkable thing. You can live on
a ship all your life, and yet there are places aboard where you have never
been.”

“This
is not the Vardon,” Tarrel reminded her. “But since everything seems to
correspond, I suppose that I know what you mean. Of course, the size of this
ship has a lot to do with that. There isn’t a corner of my own little
battleship that I don’t know intimately.”

Kayendel
set down her cases and bundles in a neat row. “Perhaps, but I have lived aboard
a carrier all my life. You would expect to get to know any ship intimately in
ninety years.”

Tarrel
stared. “Just how long do your people live anyway?” “About three hundred
standard years,” Kayendel explained as she opened the chestplate on her armor
and began shutting down the cooling system. “Sometimes a little less. Sometimes
quite a bit more. Around here, anyone less than a hundred is still considered
young.”

“I’m
beginning to envy you people,” Captain Tarrel remarked, then realized that the
Starwolf was in the process of removing her armor. “Do you want me to leave?”

“Only
if you want to,” Kayendel told her, unconcerned. “That depends upon how you
react to naked Starwolves. I was hoping that you would take me to the bridge
and introduce me to Valthyrra Methryn. You know her already, and I doubt that
Commander Gelrayen will return any time soon. He wants to spend some time with
his packs, I am sure.”

“You
arrived aboard in a fighter,” Tarrel observed. “And you have fighting armor.”

“Our
suits are all very much the same, even for those who never fly with the packs,”
the Kelvessan explained. She unbelted the middle section of her suit,
disconnected the leads and pipes connecting the top half with the bottom, and
stepped out of the lower part. Not only was the lower part a single section, it
stood upright on its own. “But as first officer, I am also the ship’s helm and
I can fly her manually. Of course, you can hardly ever convince a ship to allow
you to fly her, so we keep a fighter of our own to stay in practice.”

She
separated the top half of the suit and pulled it off, also in a single piece.
Fully naked, she looked far less human that Tarrel had anticipated. Large, bony
hips, and a chest and back that were massively muscled to support the structure
of her double set of arms, were joined by a middle section that was only a
slender tube, her single pair of small breasts being her most human feature.
The bones of Kelvessan looked deceptively light, but were in fact precipitates
of iron, capable of bearing tons of stress. Without the unifying factor of
clothing, even Kayendel’s facial features appeared far less human. There was
some subtle difference to her cheeks and mouth, suggestive of an animal’s
delicate muzzle, and her eyes appeared unnaturally large, like those from some
cartoon drawing. Her pointed ears peeked out through her typical Starwolf s
mane of soft brown hair. Tarrel was surprised to note that Kayendel’s hair was
actually not as long as it appeared, but simply grew in a strip down the full
length of her spine.