The Methryn settled silently into orbit over the massive gas giant, after a brief run back into starflight followed by a sharp braking maneuver that left Captain Tarrel rather breathless in spite of the suit’s greater protection. Valthyrra kept her shields at stealth intensity, wanting to see what the Union fleet was doing before they knew that she was about. Old Starwolf habits that were not even her own kept her cautious.
She moved in very quietly behind the largest area of debris, where almost all of the Union ships were engaged in, as far as she could tell, mapping and cataloging the pieces of wreckage. It seemed like the silly, pointless sort of thing that the Union would consider very important in a crisis. But that debris was more interesting than she would have guessed, and it soon demanded her full attention. In the past, the Dreadnought had been very thorough in making certain that anything it destroyed was ripped to pieces, but some of these sections of station and factory components were still very large. A few were larger than herself and scores of sections were as large as any Union battleship or bulk freighter, two or three hundred meters across. There was, however, no question of survivors in that wreckage. Every section was tom and twisted, and burnt black by tremendous discharges of power. The fact that there were no bodies drifting in space was an ominous indication of what had happened to anything organic caught in the storm of energy that had raged through these stations.
“Another change of tactic,” Valthyrra reported. “The Dreadnought was in a hurry. It killed, but it did not take the time to obliterate.”
“It might have been overwhelmed by the very volume,” Tarrel suggested. “It would have taken hours to have eaten these stations bite by bite, the way it did the first time we met. Just destroying the first completely would have given them the time to evacuate all the other stations and get every ship out of system. ” “When it attacked the Vardon, it seemed to lack any awareness of tactical priorities,” Valthyrra reminded them. “Does it seem to you that this monster is getting smarter?”
“Actually smarter, as opposed to simply showing us more of its abilities?” Gelrayen asked.
“Exactly,” the ship agreed. “I am reminded of myself, sixty years ago when I was first brought on line. I was dull, remote, and completely unaware of anything going on around me except my programmed function. I was aware of myself, but I did not even know what that meant. It was the need to be able to do the things required of me that forced my development.”
Gelrayen considered that for a brief moment. “Are you suggesting that the Dreadnought is a child, or perhaps a weapon that had never been activated until it drifted into the Union and the presence of ships and stations triggered an automated response to attack? Then it actually would be becoming smarter as it learned how to plan. ”
“That might well be,” Valthyrra agreed. “Or perhaps it was simply shut down to dormant levels for so long that it has needed time to remember how to think and plan for itself. Very much would depend upon how old it actually is. Our suspicion is that, it is ancient because we have no idea who built it, and that it has been bounding around space for a very long time. It might also be very new. I remind you that the Union does not explore outside its own territory, and the Starwolves never have the time.”
They watched the main viewscreen for a moment as the Methryn moved slowly through the wreckage. Blackened and battered pieces of metal hundreds of meters across drifted past, most of diem rolling in an oddly calm, stately manner from the impetus of the force that had ripped them apart. Gelrayen walked over to stand beside Kayendel at the helm station, then looked up at the camera pod.
“What are your thoughts on the subject?” he asked.
“I believe that it was a mistake not to seek the advice of the Aldessan of Valtrys when this affair first began,” Valthyrra answered without hesitation. “They might very well know who built this machine, and how to shut it down. But the ships were not consulted.”
Captain Tarrel smiled to herself, impressed with the censure that the ship was able to convey in her words. Valthyrra Methryn was probably very correct in her belief that development in a sentient machine corresponded to need. She was coming along very smartly.
They came upon the first Union ship suddenly, a small cruiser drifting alongside one of the larger pieces of station wreckage. It had actually been facing away at first, but it reversed itself very quickly in what certainly seemed to be a very startled gesture. Tarrel was given to wonder if its very aggressive stance was as obvious to the Starwolves as it was to her. She could understand the alarm of the little ship’s captain, suddenly finding himself nose to nose with the largest and most deadly ship that he had ever seen, and why he continued to respond to what he perceived to be a threat.
“Valthyrra, do you still have your shields at stealth intensity?” she demanded.
“Of course. I consider that to be a correct response to a situation that is possibly threatening, and I wondered what they were doing.
“I would suppose that they’re probing the wreckage at close-range scan for survivors,” Tarrel told her. “You forget that human instruments are nowhere near accurate as your own. And you had better make contact with the Fleet Commander before you do have a threatening situation you never intended on your hands. That cruiser is about to fire at you.”
“The Fleet Captain’s battleship is approaching now,” Valthyrra said. “In fact, I am being surrounded by no less than two dozen ships.”
“Then I suggest that you begin talking very politely.”
“Can I just shoot them?” the ship asked. “I have never shot anyone in all my life.”
“Valthyrra, behave yourself,” Gelrayen warned. “This is serious. Stand ready to run if things turn nasty.”
“I am not certain that I have room to run, with all of this debris. I should probably just put up my best shields and push my way through.” She paused. “I have an audio-only channel with the Fleet Captain.”
“This is Fleet Captain Cullan,” he began, proud and belligerent. “I demand to know your business here.”
“This is the Starwolf carrier Methryn. I have been fitted with a special scanning device and I am following the Dreadnought in an attempt to learn some way of fighting it.”
“You damned murderers don’t fool us,” Cullan shouted back. “We know that you’re behind these attacks. This is all some great plan of yours, wrecking our systems and pretending to be chasing some great, invisible enemy. Some of us have decided to do something about this, and we might as well start with you.”
“I am sending the packs to the bays,” Valthyrra announced privately before returning to her communication. “Captain Cullan, you are badly mistaken on three important points. First, the Starwolves are not behind these attacks, and there really is a Dreadnought. Second, if we had wanted to destroy you in this way, we could have done so at any time. We do not need sneaky plans. Third, you do not have the firepower to confront me. If you do not get out of my way immediately, I will release my packs.”
Captain Tarrel rolled her eyes. “Valthyrra Methryn, you are the very soul of discretion and tact.”
“It is good to know that I have a soul,” she responded, turning her camera pod. “Starwolf rule number one. No one threatens a Starwolf and gets away with it.”
“Then will you get me a visual channel and let me handle this in my own way?”
Valthyrra turned her camera pod to Gelrayen, who nodded. Captain Cullan came up on the main monitor of the Commander’s station a few moments later. He looked exactly like Tarrel had expected, arch-conservative traditionalist, old and thin and going through life looking as if he had just eaten his shaving cream and could not get the taste out of his mouth. Sector Command tried not to promote these types to captain warships; they believed their own propaganda and were too prone to make egotistical decisions in the field that cost the Union dear. Which was what was about to happen here.