“Why?” Consherra asked suddenly, glancing at him suspiciously. “Meran, what is wrong? Is there trouble?”
Velmeran hesitated, then nodded wearily. “Yes, terrible trouble. Sometime within the next two weeks the Methryn is going to have to fight something that we have never seen before, and she is not going to win. I will have to do everything I can to save her.”
“Meran, no!” Consherra cried, knowing that he had no choice. “Why does it always have to be you?”
“Because this is my game,” he answered. “Donalt Trace is looking for me. He is going to use his new toy to rip our carriers apart until I stop him. I have no choice.”
Consherra nodded slowly. “I know, and I will help you all that I can. What can I do?”
“Love me,” he replied simply. “Help me to forget that I am frightened and alone. That is all you can do for now.”
That was a bold request for him, and one which worried him. Always before he had needed love, even longed for it, but he had never asked for what, in his own belief, could only be given freely. But his time was short, and the future he saw frightened him. The Methryn would live, but at the price of a life. And he knew the price. Within the next two weeks he might finally be free of the burden of responsibility, for he would quite likely be dead.
4
Maeken Kea had accepted the command of the Challenger knowing that she did not particularly like the idea, but she did not have time to regret it. By the end of her first shift on the bridge, however, she knew that she both disliked and regretted it. This beast was all ship, a relatively small and superfluous crew, and two captains. No, it was not even a ship, just a mobile planetary defense system. Maeken was smart enough not to be impressed by technology for its own sake; therefore, she was not impressed. If it could fight and defeat a Starwolf carrier, then she would be impressed.
The theory behind this ship was sound, she did have to admit that. The possibility remained that it might just be able to defeat a Starwolf carrier in equal combat. But Commander Trace was after big game: he wanted Velmeran and the Methryn. And Velmeran was too smart for him, smarter even than herself, Trace, and this ship altogether. She knew that Trace meant to force a confrontation with the Methryn, and she had strong doubts about their ability to win that battle.
Marching the halls at a furious pace, Maeken turned onto a main corridor and ran straight into a monster. Since her diminutive human form was no match for this towering hulk of quasi-reptilian flesh, she promptly bounced off and fell on her rump in the middle of the floor. Startled, her first reaction was to reach for her gun. Then she recognized this massive obstruction as a Kelfethki warrior and paused. The massive saurian head cocked inquisitively, the enormous green eyes regarding her.
“Pleesh ekshuz me,” the Kalfethki hissed. He reached out with a hand that could have encircled her waist and lifted her as easily as if she were a small pet to be picked up and held.
“And you are?” Maeken demanded as he assisted her to stand. She weighed thirty-eight kilos, while the Kalfethki weighed perhaps three hundred. But authority carried its own weight, and she assumed this talking dinosaur to be part of the crew.
“Ahee am Kramthk, af dee Kalfethki foorze.” His reply was prompt enough, if unenlightening. “Eeyu air dee Kapton?”
“Of course,” she said less sharply. She did not at all like this talk of a Kalfethki force, but she thought it best to remain on good terms with a potential army of the beasts. “Are you an officer?”
“Hay schmall hwun,” Kramthk replied sociably. “Ahee vash up to dee bridgsh to schpeek weth dee Schector Kommandor.”
“Very good,” Maeken responded promptly, not at all sure what the Kalfethki had said. He stepped carefully aside, opening a passage for her to continue. But she hesitated a moment and looked up at him. “If you would, what is your duty?”
“Ahee am en interpretor,” Kramthk replied proudly, flashing a toothy grin.
Maeken only shrugged and continued on. At this point, nothing surprised her.
What was Trace thinking of, bringing a Kalfethki ‘force’ on board this ship? The Kalfethki were a saurian race, higher than true reptiles even though they laid eggs and had no fur, but lower than true mammals despite the fact that they were warm-blooded. They were immense beings, three meters tall and five from their nose to the tip of their powerful thrashing tail. But they remained dull-witted and primitive, still as much animal as intelligent being. Their warrior code and complex religion of demons and prophecies were their only vestiges of civilization, for they possessed few ethical and moral virtues.
It was that fierce warrior code that made them useful as fighters, and yet their worship of a demanding and bloodthirsty god made them too dangerous to keep in useful numbers. One of their many cherished prophecies held that they would someday cleanse the stars of all aliens, murdering entire races for the glory of their god, and they looked forward to that day with eager anticipation. Maeken could imagine the Kalfethki in revolt, having convinced themselves that this unique ship was the divine gift they needed to wage their holy war.
Maeken entered the semicircular area of the bridge, crossing to the raised central portion of the Captain’s station. The Challenger’s bridge was a vague copy of that of the Starwolf carriers, although there was no middle bridge for helm and weapons officer. She was not surprised to find Donalt Trace in the Captain’s seat, only annoyed that the chair had obviously been made to his size. Even as she climbed the steps to the central bridge, he signed some report and returned the board to Lieutenant Skerri, the ship’s second-in-command, who hurried on his way.
“Why was a Kalfethki walking down the corridor of this ship?” she demanded unceremoniously.
Trace only shrugged. “To get to the other side?”
Maeken rolled her eyes. “Ho, ho. We are a wit today.”
Trace folded his hands behind his head as he leaned back in his seat. “I try to be. Otherwise I would be totally lacking in any social graces. To answer your question, however, the Kalfethki serve this ship as a boarding party.”
“Boarding party?” she asked. “Boarding what?”
“Starwolf carriers, if we are fortunate enough to disable and capture one intact,” he explained. “We put them in self-contained armor, like Starwolves. And they can carry guns powerful enough to open Starwolf armor. If we link up with a disabled carrier, we send them in quick with most of our sentries as a secondary force.”
“And how long will they last?” Maeken inquired. “A carrier holds a crew of two thousand, as well as defensive automatons like their probes.”
Trace shrugged, unconcerned. “The carrier’s crew will be scattered and disorganized, with wounded and young to protect. And their best fighters, their pilots, will be gone. Against that, I have two thousand Kalfethki warriors, as well as five thousand sentries. And given time, I can also bring in the troop transports.”
“Two thousand Kalfethki?” Maeken demanded. “That isn’t a boarding party, that’s an army! And what do you do if those fanatical dragons decide that your fancy fortress is a present from their great demon-god Harraught?”
“Simple enough,” Trace said, always pleased with his ingenuity. “Dead Kalfethki are very easy to control. They are all housed together — alone — in their own section of the ship. Their armor and weapons are sealed under lock in another section. And the computer watches them constantly. If they do get out of hand, we seal off that section and vent their air. Even Starwolves have to breathe.”