Legacy (12 page)

"Yes, the
Norlaev
," Loruin confirmed, then turned to Sarnac. "The
Taelarn
-class is a small vessel with no armament except an antimissile laser, but capable of long hauls without refueling stops, and with comfortable accommodations for up to four passengers. It should cause less alarm at New Laurentia than one of the
thrufarn
's warships."

"Yes, I would imagine so," Sarnac acknowledged, adjusting to the thought of spending the trip with Tiraena in the close quarters of some little VIP transport instead of having a frigate or something similar to rattle around in. Of course, Rael would be along, and so would the crew. . . .

"Well, that's settled," Loruin beamed. "You can depart as soon as your personal arrangements are complete."

"Some people have all the luck," Frank groused. " 'Tasha and I will be lucky to get junior officer staterooms aboard that frigate. You're going to be travelling like a goddamned ambassador aboard
that
." He waved at the
Taelarn
-class craft.

"That seems only fair," Sarnac said judiciously. Frank snorted and Natalya muttered something in what sounded like Russian.

They were standing in a flat clearing outside what seemed to sensors (including the Mark One Eyeball) to be a hillside but was in fact the entrance to the base's hangar. In the distance, Tiraena was saying her goodbyes to the Danuans, who would soon be transported by the magic of the Strange Ones back to the North, to rejoin what was left of their people. The three Scouts were saying their own goodbyes, and gazing at the bluish-silver shape that gleamed in the sunlight.

More remarkable than the sybaritic comfort of the transport's passenger accommodations, was the fact that it was sitting here, on the ground. In Sarnac's experience, interstellar vessels were, of necessity, orbit-to-orbit craft serviced by shuttles that could actually land on a planet. But the Raehaniv were able to cram the gravitic machinery that allowed displacement point transit, and even their continuous-displacement drive, into a streamlined hull able to operate in atmosphere under grav repulsion.

Even harder to accept was the fact that this ship could make it to New Laurentia without stopping to scoop reaction mass from some gas giant's atmosphere. The efficiency of the Raehaniv torch drive, plus the ability to store hydrogen as a hyper-dense plasma inside a containment field, explained it—or so he had been assured. But it still seemed to him that
Norlaev
, though it filled most of the clearing, was nevertheless impossibly small for its capabilities.

Tiraena approached, as Rael and
Norlaev
's two-member crew joined them.

"Well," Natalya asked, "is the grav raft ready to take them back?"

"Yes," Tiraena replied. "Them, and a large load of trade goods. It can't bring Cheel'kathu back, but it should help them rebuild their lives, and those of their people."

"It's the least we can do," Rael said. The alien-contact specialist was tall, slender and sharp-featured even by Raehaniv standards. She was also visibly middle-aged—which meant she was probably pushing an Earth century.

"Well," Command Pilot Saefal hle'Tordonn said, "we're ready for departure any time."

Sarnac felt an unaccustomed sensation of awkwardness. He clasped hands with Frank, then gave Natalya a quick hug. "Hey, you two shouldn't be complaining about your travel accommodations. Just don't tell the skipper that one stateroom is all you
really
need!"

Frank aimed a light punch at Sarnac's stomach, which he dodged, and they grappled for an instant of playful shoving.

"Boys will be boys," Natalya commented to Tiraena drily. "Bob, we'll see you again—on this planet."

"Right, 'Tasha. We'll all come back with the diplomatic missions. In the meantime, don't let Frank screw things up on Raehan too badly. We've already got
one
war!"

"Yeah," Frank retorted. "And remember to mention us once or twice while you're lying your ass off about your daring exploits! Tiraena, try and keep this crazy Creole honest, will you?"

She looked demure. "Oh, I think you can count on it."

The Raehaniv had come no closer than the Solar Union to achieving true artificial sentience. But their computers could do incredible things, including almost all aspects of astrogation. So Saefal was not overworked, and most of his piloting chores were performed by direct neural input to the ship. Similarly, his subordinate Taeronn hle'Sheina was able to spend more time as a purser than as an engineer.

With time on his hands, Saefal had no objection to visits to the small bridge by passengers. Sarnac and Tiraena availed themselves of it when Saefal began lining up on the displacement point that would take them from the Lugh system. Rael, as usual, was absorbing Standard International English via neural induction. They stood behind the command chair where Saefal sat silhouetted against the star-blazing blackness, which featured a gas-giant planet close enough to show a visible disc.

"So we're all alone out here?" Sarnac asked.

"Not quite," Saefal said absently. "There's a small picket ship watching this displacement point. Pure routine, certainly. No danger from the Capella Chain, as you call it. But other than that, there's no one in this part of the outer system. Our heavy forces are concentrated at the displacement point connecting with Korvaash space. So basically you're right—we're all alone. . . ."

An alarm sounded, and Sarnac thought that he had never heard so obnoxious a noise.

Frowning, Saefal inserted the cable that linked him to the ship's brain. His expression went rapidly from annoyance to alarm, and his eyes lost focus as he concentrated on imagery being displayed via his optic nerve. After a moment, he turned to the two passengers.

"No point in concealing it." He spoke rapidly. "This is too small a ship for secrets. There's a large Korvaash vessel outbound from a satellite of that gas giant. Like us, he's headed for the displacement point. Projections indicate he won't intercept us before we transit—but he may get within missile range."

"Could you display your data on this Korvaash ship in a form I can access?" Sarnac requested with unusual calm.

Saefal gave the ship a wordless command, and a holographically projected display screen awoke.

"Tiraena, could you interpret this?"

His translator wasn't much help with the written Raehaniv floating in midair. She complied, with a calmness that equalled his own, but which surprised him not at all. He listened, studied the visual imagery, then turned to Saefal.

"That," he stated, "is what our intelligence types have dubbed a
Gorgon
-class battlecruiser. A big mother, as Korvaash ships generally are. We've encountered it often enough to have learned something about its capabilities. It carries some long-range missiles, but it's mostly armed with energy weapons—lots of lasers, and some plasma guns for really close-in work. It's not maneuverable, but it's faster than you'd expect, and has tremendous endurance."

"The ship that escaped into the outer system," Tiraena breathed. "It must have been hiding among that gas giant's moons."

"Yeah. And that planet currently happens to be on the same side of the sun as the displacement point. Shit," he added dispassionately.

"The planet might have been so close that they could have intercepted us before we were able to reach it," she offered.

"Why am I not feeling grateful?" He turned back to Saefal. "Can I also see our tactical situation?"

The holo tank that was part of
Norlaev
's backup nav system suddenly showed the gas giant, the displacement point and the two ships. The baleful red dot of the
Gorgon
was clearly maneuvering to approach the displacement point at the correct bearing for transit. The Korvaasha must have reached the same conclusions about the impossibility of intercepting
Norlaev
before she could transit, and were preparing for the possibility of a long stern chase. Sarnac consulted his implanted calculator.

"I think you're right about them coming into missile range before we can transit," he told Saefal.

"We have the antimissile laser," the pilot said hopefully.

"Yeah. But unless they shot away most of their missiles in the battle they should be able to overload our targeting capability. Oh well, at least we're not dealing with a primarily missile-armed ship."

"Look!" Tiraena pointed at the tactical display. "Our picket ship is accelerating away from the displacement point, toward us."

"He must want to give whatever help he can—precious little, against what's pursuing us." Saefal paused. "The
thrufarn
's fleet has received the distress signal this ship sent out when we heard the alarm." Neutrino-pulse communication was effectively faster than light within interplanetary ranges, and the message would have had time to cross the system. "He'll be dispatching his fastest units on a pursuit vector." He didn't need to add that there was no way those units, just now getting up speed on the other side of the system, could possibly catch up to the Korvaash battlecruiser this side of New Laurentia, or Sol.

"I'd better tell Rael," Tiraena said, and left the bridge.

Sarnac and Saefal watched the crawling points of light in the holo tank in silence. Presently Tiraena and Rael joined the silent vigil. The Raehaniv tendency toward emotional reserve—Sarnac understood that it had been much more extreme in the old days—could be annoying, but at least they weren't given to panic. Shortly, Taeronn arrived and manned the communications station.

The picket, accelerating sunward, was closing at a tremendous relative velocity. Taeronn raised its skipper, who calculated that he would approach
Norlaev
at about the time that the latter came under missile attack and offered to contribute his antimissile firepower. It was all he could do.

Then the small blips of missiles began to appear in the tank, moving ahead of the
Gorgon
, slightly sooner than Sarnac had expected to see them. Then another wave of them, and another. He counted them and whistled silently through his teeth.

"He's launching at his missiles' extreme range. And he's launching
all
of them—that's a
Gorgon
's full complement! It must be an all-out effort to saturate our antimissile defenses before we can transit."

"One which may very well succeed," Saefal added grimly. "We'll have to engage the first wave, at least, without the help of the picket."

The missiles came on, seemingly at a crawl in the tank, actually adding with their own drives to the velocity the
Gorgon
had already piled atop the gas giant's orbital velocity. Sarnac gave up trying to calculate it all, and merely watched, with a strangely calm fascination, as the first wave of missiles came into range of their laser.

Dots of flame began to appear and disappear in the view-aft screen, and missile blips flickered and vanished in the tank. The little ship's fire-control computer had plenty of time for targeting, given the long flight times of missiles launched at extreme range on a stern chase, and it was making the most of it. But the missiles kept coming.

Then the tiny dots of decoy drones began to move ahead of the onrushing picket ship in the tank. The little dots passed
Norlaev
and plunged toward the oncoming Korvaash missiles, whose relatively primitive homing systems they could easily fool. But a picket could only carry a few of them. More flashes appeared in the view-aft as what was left of the first wave of missiles—and most of the second wave—expended their nuclear fury on the drones.

Sarnac watched, mesmerized, as the blips of
Norlaev
and the picket passed in opposite directions, almost grazing each other in the tank. The picket could now bring its antimissile lasers into play, but it was closing with the Korvaash missiles at a relative velocity which allowed scant time for targeting solutions.

"What's the picket doing?" Rael wondered out loud as the blip accelerated onward. Sarnac was silent, for he suddenly knew.

Then Saefal also grasped it. "He's headed straight for the Korvaash ship!" he blurted. "He's going to try to ram!" Everyone else looked stunned; apparently the
kamikaze
tradition was foreign to the Raehaniv.

"Tell him to veer off," Rael said in a shaken voice. "It's not worth it . . . it's, well, it's somehow . . ." She could find no words. But then it became academic, for one of the missiles homed in on the picket and the largest flash yet lit up the view-aft.

After a moment of awkward silence, Saefal spoke in carefully neutral tones. "Approaching displacement point. Two missiles still closing."

No one could think of anything to say as they watched their fates being played out in the tank. Sarnac discovered that, without a word or a glance, he and Tiraena had clasped hands. With agonizing slowness, the blip that represented their five lives crawled toward the displacement point. Less slowly, the two tiny missile blips closed on them. No one even broke the silence to cheer when one missile flickered into nonexistence, for its mate was nearing them in the tank, and it was almost touching. Tiraena's grip on Sarnac's hand grew painful.

"Stand by for transit!"

Saefal's announcement shattered the silence just before the universe seemed to contract and then reexpand into a new pattern. As Sarnac came out of the familiar feeling of strangeness, he noticed that Saefal was leaning back in his command chair—drenched with sweat. The command pilot must have known how close the missile had really come before flashing through the empty space where
Norlaev
had been and continuing on into the void between the stars.

"What about the Korvaash ship?" Tiraena's voice was steady, and she had let go of Sarnac's hand.

Saefal raised his head wearily and gave it a slow shake. "Can't say. It was trying to line itself up for a transit. As to whether they'll succeed in getting into the right angle of insertion or not . . ." his voice trailed off dully.

So their vigil continued as they drove on into this stellar system toward the region where Sarnac, though no astrogator, knew from memory held the displacement point that led onward into the Capella Chain. With the search thus narrowed,
Norlaev
's grav scanners sufficed to locate the displacement point with the requisite exactness. For a time they waited in a kind of drained torpor as delayed reaction to their escape set in. Then tension began to mount anew as the time approached when the computer, drawing on its last observations of the
Gorgon
, predicted that their pursuer's displacement transit to this system, if successful, could be expected. A grav scanner was kept trained on the displacement point. They waited, saying little.