Dreadnought (37 page)

“You’ve
said that the Starwolves took a beating. How bad?” Tarrel frowned; this was the
part that she hated the most. It was the balance between doing her professional
duty, without regard to the consequences, and doing what she had come to
believe was right. She could not escape the feeling that she was betraying a
friend, but she was compelled to answer. “Is this off the record?”

“This
entire conversation is completely off the record,” he assured her. “If I don’t
believe that it’s in the Union’s best interest, then I can pretend that I never
heard any of this. You don’t seem to think that we should break the truce.”

“Let’s
just say that I have a much better idea of just what the Starwolves can do, and
I can see the futility of fighting them. I’ve also seen that they can be
reasoned with. If we weren’t so greedy and impatient, we could have everything
we want without fighting.”

Lake
looked more amused than impatient. “I know that already, and I don’t doubt that
clever people have been figuring that out since the war first began.
Unfortunately, the Union is designed to insure that greedy people are always in
control. So what about the Starwolves?”

Tarrel
sighed heavily. “I saw the carrier Mardayn destroyed outright, and the
Kerridayen was almost certainly destroyed as well. The last I saw, the
Starwolves were trying to salvage the pieces. The Destaen was towed away with
serious damage, and she probably faces months if not years of repair. Even
before that last battle, the Kerridayen, the Karvand and the Methryn had all
taken damage in separate attacks, and I can recall it being said that their
resources have been stretched to the limit. I doubt very much that they have
the ability to repair their damages any time soon.”

“Then
if we are going to violate the truce, we might as well do it soon and
consolidate our own gains before the Starwolves can get their fleet back up to
strength.”

“I’m
not so sure about that,” Tarrel mused. “What are our own losses?”

“We
don’t have any good figures about commercial losses on ships, but more than
seventy Systems were hit with the loss of at least that many stations. Our military
losses are somewhere above twenty-five percent, enough that we will feel it for
decades to come. Still, the loss of even a single carrier hurts them more than
losing a thousand ships hurts us.”

“Perhaps.”
Tarrel sounded uncertain. “A single carrier might be worth a thousand of our
own ships, but I’m not sure that the loss of one or even two hurts them all
that much. They apparently keep a second fleet of carriers in their own space.
Some of those ships might be moved up to cover their regular patrols, especially
if we provoked them.”

“Why
didn’t they use those ships against the Dreadnought?” Lake asked.

“They
were extremely reluctant to. Those carriers were in reserve to fight the
Dreadnought if it came into their own space. ”

“Then
you are not convinced that we can expect to have an easier time of it because
of their recent losses?”

“I’m
saying that we cannot count upon the Starwolf fleet being too far below
strength to respond to a breaking of the truce,” she insisted. “They have more
ships than we knew, although I cannot predict whether those ships will be
transferred to Union space. They might still be concerned that another
Dreadnought might turn up, at least in the next few years. That possibility
also worries me. If we break the truce immediately and annoy the Starwolves
now, are they going to be very sympathetic if we go begging for their help
again soon?”

“But
you know how to destroy a Dreadnought now,” he reminded her.

Tarrel
shook her head firmly. “I know the general theory, but the main ingredient in
that recipe is Starwolves. You first have to be able to see the damned thing,
which requires technology we do not have and cannot anticipate developing any
time soon. Then you have to beat it senseless and blind it by shooting off its
external sensor array, which you can’t do if you can’t see it. I can write you
a fairly detailed report on how they did it, but that still doesn’t mean that
we can do it ourselves.”

Lake
glanced at his glass, then got up to pour himself another drink. “I agree with
everything you say, and I’ll do my best to present that side of the matter.
But, like I say, I don’t get to vote on the matter. That privilege belongs to a
small group of greedy old men who have already convinced themselves that the
colonies and independent worlds have taken advantage of this situation and
deserve to be punished. Were you aware that few independent worlds and fringe
colonies were attacked?”

“Of
course not,” she declared. “The damned monster was programmed to go after major
holdings. It went first through the most developed parts of each Sector.”

“Yes,
we
can see that,” he told her.
“But minds that already hunger to rebuild our losses by raping the outer worlds
can easily convince themselves of a conspiracy. They won’t listen to you or me
if we tell them something they don’t want to hear. They decide policy, and they
delegate us to deal with the consequences.”

Tarrel
shook her head. “Nothing surprises me any more. Would you believe that the
Starwolves have their own old men to screw their lives around?”

Lake
paused in pouring his drink to look at her. “They do? Why?”

“They’re
afraid of the Starwolves,” she explained. “They don’t want to end the war
because they’re afraid of what that many unemployed Starwolves would do.”

“Starwolves
are not actively hostile,” Lake mused. “They only react to provocation. If I
didn’t have Starwolves as enemies, I would trust them completely. So what do they
believe so many unemployed Starwolves would do?”

“Go
into business for themselves and be so good at it that mere mortals like
ourselves could never compete.”

“I
never would have thought of Starwolves as particularly mercantile.”

“I
don’t believe that they would leave us begging, but I have recently come to
think that Starwolves can do just about anything they want,” Tarrel said. “You
might recall that they’ve largely financed their side of the war by stealing
our ships and goods and selling it all back. That seems clever enough.”

“Damn,
you’re right,” Lake agreed, and decided to pour himself an even larger drink.
“You know, I wonder if I should tell the High Council all of this. The best way
to convince them to extend, the truce indefinitely is for them to believe that
the Republic is using the war for its own purposes.”

The
Carthaginian dropped out of starflight and began an immediate scan of the
system, clearing the way for the supply convoy that followed her two minutes
behind. The military escort was largely a matter of tradition or old habit, a
fearful response to the presence of old enemies seen and unseen, and an even
deadlier enemy that might or might not return. Captain Tarrel settled back into
her seat, enjoying the satisfaction that very little was likely to go wrong.
Escort duty in peace time was almost like a vacation. And like all vacations,
it would not last forever.

“Captain,
I have detected a Starwolf carrier settled into orbit at our destination,” the
surveillance officer reported.

The
first excited response to that was entirely the result of old habits. In
previous times, they would have warned away the convoy before it could leave
starflight and then sit tight and hope that the carrier did not notice. But,
under the terms of a treaty that had not yet been broken, the Starwolves were
friends and allies, even a source of protection against other dangers. The
members of the bridge crew calmed themselves after that first response,
although the old, instinctive sense of threat and excitement remained just
under the surface.

Tarrel
nodded in acknowledgement. “Send the Starwolves our regards, and politely ask
what ship.”

“The
ship responds that she is the carrier Methryn,” the communications officer
responded after a moment, sounding slightly confused. “She asks to speak
directly to you.”

“Old
friends indeed,” Tarrel remarked. “Bring the convoy down and direct them into
orbit. And give me that channel at my own station.”

“Yes,
Captain. You have your open channel.”

She
settled her headset. “Valthyrra Methryn, have you plugged your first Union
warship yet?”

“No,
but I do keep hoping,” the carrier responded. “I see that they put you back to
useful employment.”

“Then
they gave you a patrol in the Rane Sector?”

“This
used to be the Kerridayen’s patrol,” Valthyrra commented sadly. “Ah yes, I see
that they put you to escort duty.” “What else is there to do these days? So,
how is everyone?” “Doing well enough, in the sense that things are slow to change
in the daily existence of Starwolves. Commander Gelrayen asks if you would like
to come over for dinner. I can turn up the heat. The Starwolves are more
indifferent to clothes than they used to be, and not just my own. We seem to
have started an anti-fashion trend.”

“Is
that a fact?”

“Of
course, they always were rather indifferent to clothes. Will you be in-system
very long?”

“A
few days, at least.”

“Give
us a call when you get everything settled into orbit.” Tarrel removed her
headset and settled back into her seat, waiting out the final deceleration into
orbit. Matching the convoy, they would be dropping down from threshold for the
next five hours. That would give her plenty of time for reflection. She had
always felt that she had unfinished business with the Kelvessan, but she had
never expected that she might ever have the chance to run across the Methryn,
and she did not know any of the other ships well enough for this matter. In a
civilized universe that was generally not cleverly run, perhaps some things
were fated after all.

Janus
Tarrel felt obligated to stay on the bridge until every ship in her convoy was
secured in orbit and the first freighter was taken away for unloading. Her own
turn of duty ended by that time, and she put in a private call to the Methryn
to arrange a time for dinner. As it happened, Starwolves were always hungry,
and in this occasion the attire was semi-formal; both she and her first officer
were expected. Under the circumstances, she thought that it was just as well.
She could hardly imagine how young Chagin would react to dining with naked
Starwolves. She was surprised enough that the offer to come abroad had been
extended to anyone beyond herself. The crew of the Methryn seemed to like her
well enough, but they had never been given any reason to trust her associates.

Entirely
as a sentimental impulse, she retired to her cabin, removed a large trunk from
storage, and dressed herself in the white Starwolf armor that she had been
given during her stay aboard the Methryn. Chagin was surprised to see her when
she joined him at the Carthaginian’s small docking bay, as was every other
member of the crew she passed. Because she could not tell if Valthyrra had been
serious about turning up her thermostats, Tarrel had warned Chagin to dress
warmly.

“Captain,
that’s certainly one hell of a souvenir,” he commented with droll humor. “How
does a person get one of those?”

“The
hard way.”

“I
almost feel under-dressed. What will the Starwolves be wearing?”

“I
hesitate to guess,” she admitted.

Whether
as a considerate gesture, or one of precaution, Valthyrra had sent one of her
own transports to take them to the Methryn. The trip over to the carrier was
short enough, since she had moved herself in to within five kilometers of the
station. Commander Gelrayen and his first officer Kayendel were there to meet
them, both of them dressed in their simple command uniforms of white, the first
officer’s tunic trimmed with black. Chagin was obviously surprised and
fascinated; like most people, he had only seen Starwolves in their armor
before, and they looked so much smaller and less threatening without it.
Kayendel offered him a tour of the ship, and the two first officers went their
own way. They were to join Captain Tarrel and Commander Gelrayen later on the
bridge.

“How
is everyone?” Tarrel asked as they took the lift from the transport bay to the
bridge, a relatively short ride. “I admit that I’ve worried about the
Kerridayen the entire six months since the Dreadnought was destroyed.”

Gelrayen
looked unhappy. “We never did find any part of Trendaessa that was still
intact, and the area of the bridge was completely gone. If fact, they finally
had to abandon ainy plan of rebuilding the carrier. Every machine and major
system in that ship was wrecked by power discharge, and her frame was damaged.
She was the last of the old ships, and her memory units lacked the protection
built into a newer ship like the Methryn.” “Have your losses left you short in
your patrols?”

“No,
the Karvand is back out again, and that leaves only the Destaen still under
repair. We have moved three of our reserve carriers into the regular patrols.
We know that the Union will begin intimidating the colonies any time now, and
the truce will be broken.”

“Yes,
they started rearming from the first,” Tarrel agreed. “I suppose it’s no secret
to you that my convoy is moving supplies into the fringe to be ready to move
against the colonies any time now. The trade companies will be appropriating
ownership and control of agriculture and mining. I tried to convince them to
keep the truce. We can’t be certain yet that we won’t be fighting a new war
with the builders of the Dreadnought any time.”

“Perhaps,
but it seems very unlikely,” Gelrayen told her.

“My
interior scans of the Dreadnought, and the analysis of debris we collected,
indicated that it was at least a quarter of a million years old. We were able
to make sense of the few transmissions it made. It seems that it would have
never attacked anyone except your people. It confused you with the enemy that
it was designed to destroy, for the simple chance that the level of Union
technology and ship design almost exactly matched, and your physical appearance
was very much the same. When it tried to talk to the Starwolf carriers early
on, it was simply telling us to mind our own business.”