Tactical Error

by Thorarinn Gunnarsson

  The gods of fortune must have forgiven Velmeran somewhat. With perhaps half a day remaining before battle, a second carrier appeared in the system and hurried in to dock. It was the Vardon, the second of the new carriers and the best possible choice in all the Wolf Fleet. They would now face the assault fleet with the two most powerful, heavily armed, and well-shielded ships in the fleet, and the unpopulated and expendable Methryn. Velmeran knew very little of Theralda Vardon’s previous military experience, except that she had managed to get herself destroyed once already. At least he did have considerable faith in Tregloran’s ability to command.

  Tregloran immediately brought his command crew over to the Maeridyen. They were experienced with these new carriers and could check out the systems. And since the Vardon was battle-ready, they made arrangements for the Methryn’s bridge crew to take her out for a practice run and familiarize themselves with the ship.

  “I am sorry about Lenna,” Velmeran said when Tregloran joined him on the bridge of the Maeridyen.

  “Yes, Valthyrra told us on the way in.” He shrugged, feigning more casual acceptance of the situation than he felt. “It was bound to happen eventually. She insisted upon living that way.”

  “Yes, we will do what we can for her as soon as things settle down.”

  Tregloran frowned, then glanced about the bridge. “This has all been very strange business. I was here for several months only a year ago, and there was no hint of any of this. Then, before I can make it back again, the whole thing comes apart at the seams and you put it back together again. Valthyrra said that you had to grant them all immunity.”

  “Only the top three,” Velmeran insisted. “At last count, we have more than 70 Senators who voted this mess into existence in prison, and some 200 corporate executives who funded the takeover and were waiting in line to buy trade monopolies and Kelvessan slaves. It was as bad as anything in the Union. We will let them sit in jail without bail for a few days, then put most of them on lifetime probation, on the condition that they can never again hold public office. The funny thing about this whole affair is that absolutely no member of the human population ever cast a vote to put these people in office or approved of what they were doing. Everyone was on to these criminals from the start, but what can you do?”

  “Not a one? My, my!” Tregloran took his meaning with amusement. “What about President Delike and his little friends?”

  “All hiding out in the government complex on board the station,” Velmeran explained. “They do not dare go back down to the planet, as much as they would like to collect their private data files and financial records. I had wondered if they would run for cover while they had a chance, but they seem determined to sit tight. My guess is that they hope we lose the battle, and they will kindly offer their services to the conquerors as puppet rulers.”

  “We could still get another ship in before things start,” Tregloran mused. “Then we might see them run in a hurry.”

  “How is Theralda Vardon? Will this be her first real fight?”

  “Well, she is more consistently lucid than she used to be.”

  “Lucid?”

  “Well, yes.” After looking for a gentler term to describe his ship’s behavior, he decided that he was being generous enough already. “You know that she was put together with only one memory cell. Sometimes I think that even the one was shaken too hard when we stole it. There used to be days when she would just hang there in the middle of the bridge, relaying information like a damned machine. She is developing a higher degree of spontaneity.”

  “I just hope that she remembers how to fight.”

  Tregloran smiled fondly. “It seems like old times, fighting with the odds against us.”

  Velmeran stared at him. “This is the first time in my life that I’ve ever considered the odds against me.”

  Tregloran’s face fell. “Oh.”

  The final hours passed slowly in a frenzy of hurried preparations. At almost the very last moment, a final Starwolf carrier, the Karvand under the command of Velmeran’s half-sister Daelyn, hurtled into system and dropped out of starflight almost on top of the station. The ship was already launching her packs, ready to move immediately into battle. Gelvessa Karvand explained, once the initial chaos was past, that she expected them to come under attack at any moment. Decelerating out of starflight, she had scanned an indisputable total of ten Fortresses and a number of other ships that she thought to be stingship carriers all arranging themselves in what appeared to be attack formation.

  The Fortresses presented their own problems. The Starwolves could crack the heavy hull-shielding from the giant ships with their quartzite detonator missiles, but it still took the shot from a conversion cannon to destroy the Fortress. The Methryn and the Karvand both had only the one cannon and the newer ships had two, making a total of only six, and the cannons had a tendency to burn themselves out after only one firing. He could only hope that the cannons of the newer ships did not burn out. There was also the matter of the sixteen Mock Starwolf cruiser, which were fairly massive piles of armor in their own right. He now had over 700 fighters, and the most powerful accessory cannons had been fitted to those small ships.

  Velmeran decided it was time to launch the carriers. The worst possible disaster on his own part would be to allow his carriers to be caught in their bays if the Mock Starwolves moved in suddenly. If time allowed, he was tempted to lead some of the carriers on a sudden strike against the Union attack force before it had time to get itself into motion. He was also afraid that they might be waiting to draw him out, divide his forces, and then hit him from behind. Donalt Trace had spent the last twenty years figuring out endless ways to trick him.

  Now he had to face the hardest part yet. He had to go back to the Methryn and order Valthyrra disconnected from her backup cells and send her out to die. What Tregloran had said about Theralda Vardon had left him even more uneasy about this. He had already been worried about making certain that he had captured enough of Valthyrra’s memories to return her to life. Was there something more that he needed, perhaps that soul that Valthyrra was always so concerned about? Where does a starship keep her soul?

  He had made no provisions to protect that part of Valthyrra Methryn that mattered the most to her, and she had not held him accountable for that. Perhaps she did not trust even the psychic abilities of the High Kelvessan to give her what she wanted most. Perhaps she was just doing what duty required of her, taking solace in the thought that eighteen thousand years was long enough for anyone to live.

  “Standing by to disconnect,” Consherra said over the com link in their suits. They were already dressed for battle, knowing that they would have to move quickly. This was quite literally their final task before battle. She was standing by at Valthyrra’s primary cell, while technicians were ready to disconnect the others.

  “Not until I give the order,” he answered. “Then you go straight to the Maeridyen. Let the technicians remove the duplicate memory units.”

  The lift pulled to a stop and Velmeran stepped out onto the bridge, only too aware that this might well be the last time he would see this place. Even the seats at all of the various stations had been stripped in a gallant effort to reduce the Methryn’s weight and give her a fighting advantage in maneuverability. The carpets in the cabins had been pulled as well, and she now weighed three-and-a-half million tons less than when she had entered this bay.

  Valthyrra’s camera pod was rotated well around, watching him in silence. The note that he had attached to the side of the boom was still there, ordering the crews that this was to be left. If Valthyrra did have a soul, then this simple piece of machinery was its focus.

  “We both knew that I would have to leave this ship eventually,” she said, breaking the silence. “Three kilometers of starship is not the sort of thing that you can keep around for sentiment. I would rather see this old shell burn away in battle than be carved up for scrap. A person’s life should come to more than just scrap.” />
  “There is no reason for you to assume that you will be destroyed,” he told her. “We stand or fall together in this, and the odds tell me that none of us will be here when it ends. If anything, I have given you two chances to survive.”

  “I am not concerned for that part of myself,” Valthyrra insisted. “No matter what happens to me, whether you succeed or fail in bringing me back, or even if you never have the chance, I have no regrets. Not for myself.”

  Velmeran smiled. “No regrets, perhaps. But it does not stop you from feeling afraid and alone.”

  Valthyrra dropped her camera pod lower. “I find that I have an instinct to stay alive, and there is precious little in the universe that can threaten you when you are this big and powerful. I find that I am by no means used to being afraid for my life. But what is my life? Those large metal boxes full of data that you are packing out of here? I like to think that my life means more than just information and programmed responses, but I never did find my soul. I have always been afraid to look. It was safer – less frightening – to hope that I do have one, than to discover that I do not.”

  Velmeran reached up, gently laying both of his right hands on the side of her camera pod. “You keep your soul in the very same place the rest of us have ours, in the hearts and minds of others. This ship seems so big, cold, and empty just now, because in a way you have already gone. We took your spirit with us when we left.”

  She glanced away for just a moment before turning back, her camera pod regarding him almost shrewdly. “Is that the truth, or just a lot of fancy words you mean in kindness?”

  “Your spirit is with your crew,” he assured her. “We will keep it safe for you. When you see me again, then you will know the truth in that.”

  Valthyrra turned away, watching the main viewscreen and its unchanging image of the inner docking bay. “They are calling, Commander. Long range sensors indicate a large body of ships moving into the system at high sublight speeds.”

  Velmeran nodded and turned away, activating the com link to Consherra. “Disconnect now and get out. This ship must be clear for undocking in five minutes. Consherra, I need you on board the Maeridyen by then.”

  “Disconnection is complete. Sealing the hatches now, Commander,” she promised.

  “Commander?”

  He turned, and saw that Valthyrra was watching him. He shook his head. “No more words, old friend. Say nothing that you might not remember when we meet again.”

  Valthyrra seemed to agree with him in that thought. “Farewell, Commander. As you say, I will be with you in spirit.”

  She could do nothing but watch as he walked away.

  - 12 -

  Velmeran stepped onto the bridge of the Maeridyen, watching with silent approval as the members of the bridge crews worked diligently at their stations to bring the immense ship up to flight-ready status. Some would have argued that a Starwolf carrier was simply too big and complex to fly with only minimal computer support, and he would have ordinarily agreed. They simply had no choice. Consherra hurried past him to her own station, where an assistant helm officer had been watching the console in her absence. The helm station was the focus of all other activities on the bridge, and many of the primary functions of the ship had to be coordinated through that console.

  “Engineering is flight-ready and standing by,” Tresha reported as soon as Consherra took her station, beginning the final check immediately. “All power systems are idling at nominal.”

  “Running shields standing by. Battle shields and stealth available upon demand. Internal shields and dampers are at minimal.”

  “All weapons systems standing by. Conversion cannons are pre-heated,” Cargin reported from the central weapons station on the central bridge.

  “All scanners and ambient sensors standing by until the ship is in open space.”

  “All uninhabited sections of the ship are pressured down.”

  Consherra looked over at Velmeran. “All set.”

  He nodded, and turned to communications. “Status?”

  “All ships standing by. All fighters are ready to launch. Recovery transports and capture ships are in space. Alkayja station reports that the automated defenses and long-range scanners are standing by.”

  “Relay this order to the carriers,” Velmeran said. “To avoid collision, all ships will rotate right upon backing out of their bay, then come around to the left when moving forward. Execute.”

  Consherra considered this possibly the trickiest move that she would take this big ship through all day. Even Valthyrra moved herself in and out of the docking bay with extreme caution. Consherra engaged the forward engines only for a moment. The docking braces snapped back as the Maeridyen’s shock bumper slipped out of the forward brace, and she backed slowly out of the bay. As soon as she was clear, Consherra pivoted the ship around and engaged enough thrust from the main drives to bring the ship to a stop. The other three carriers, emerging from adjacent bays, moved in almost perfect unison. They pivoted around and accelerated, moving swiftly away from the base.

  “Good enough so far,” Velmeran commented. “Long-range scan. Where are they?”

  “The entire force is moving forward at high sublight speed, the small ships in a tight group ahead of the Fortresses,” Larenta at the scan station reported. “Anticipated arrival in seven minutes at sustained speed.”

  “Those Fortresses will need a full fifteen minutes at least to get themselves slowed down. They should start braking any time now,” Velmeran mused, and looked up. “We will hold position twenty million kilometers out and let them come to us. I will not allow them to draw us too far away from the Base. Put me through to the Karvand.”

  The wait was somewhat longer than he was used to with Val-thyrra’s instant response in opening channels. “Daelyn of the Karvand here.”

  “Hold your position here,” he ordered. “The Karvand is to remain out of the immediate battle. Your duty is to remain near the station. When those Mock Starwolves arrive, they will probably be coming in behind us. I want your carrier and all of your fighters guarding Alkayja, with your pilots unfought and fresh for battle.”

  “Yes, of course,” Daelyn responded. The Karvand was already slowing to a stop. “You are picking on my poor ship, you know.”

  “The Maeridyen and the Vardon have superior shields,” he explained. “The Methryn, I am sorry to say, is expendable. The Karvand is vulnerable, and she has her active crew still on board. Besides, this probably only means that the Mock Starwolves will destroy you first on their way to get us.”

  “Oh, that is different.” Daelyn sounded quite mollified. Velmeran made a vague gesture to cut the channel, then remembered their present circumstances and directed that motion toward the communications console.

  Consherra glanced up at him from the helm. “She is definitely your big sister.”

  “She has also been in command of that ship only two months.” He turned to the main viewscreen. “Could we have a tactical schematic of long-range scan up here?”

  That was apparently no problem at all, once it was asked for. He missed Valthyrra’s quiet efficiency more than ever, and her long experience that always allowed her to know what was wanted before it was called for. The bridge crew did not know such things because Valthyrra had always been there to do it for them. They would learn a lot by the time they came through this battle, assuming that they did come through it.

  The wide main viewscreen partitioned itself, its right one-third becoming a three-dimensional schematic of the area surrounding the carriers, the left third identifying individual targets, and the middle remaining a completely uninformative visual image of space ahead. Velmeran stood for a moment, watching the scanner map. The Fortresses were already braking, falling well behind the broad line of stingship carriers and battleships. The smaller ships could drop speed in a hurry, at least compared to the Fortresses, and he thought that they might close half of their remaining distance before they would begin braking. At the
same time, he thought that the carriers would have to begin launching their sting-ships at any moment, to give themselves time to get their own forces in space, then circle around out of danger of battle themselves.

  “No activity from those stingship carriers?” he asked.

  “They are just now beginning to swing out their racks,” Larenta reported.”By what I remember of stingship operation, they should take over a minute to deploy their racks, and another two minutes before the first stingships are launched.”

  Velmeran nodded. This was more like it. “Relay orders to the Vardon. They are to launch six packs, moving to intercept those stingships. Get me some estimate on the number of stingships they have.”

  The battleships would be more of a navigational hazard than anything; their own batteries could not penetrate the shields of the Starwolf carriers, but the carriers could take out even the largest battleships with a single shot from their massive, forward cannons. The stingships, though, were a very real danger. They would be carrying high-speed, shielded missiles, which could penetrate even heavy battle shields. He would move the fighters against the stingships, where they were most useful but in the least danger themselves. The Starwolf carriers, with their quartzite-shielding detonating missiles and their conversion cannons, were the only weapons that could take on the powerful Fortresses.

  The first task was to use his own fighters to open a hole through those stingships. Starwolf pilots were good only for some fifteen minutes of hard flying before hypermetabolism wore them down and left them in need of a rest. It was actually more efficient for him to send the packs into battle in small groups rather than all at once, at least in a fight that they could not win within the first fifteen or twenty minutes.