Velmeran hurried on to his own ship, aware that he was taking too long, and feeling guilty for his deception when he realized that this would be Keth's last time out. Most pilots were wise enough to retire in grace and honor before they were asked. Keth was too proud, even if it was a false pride. He climbed the boarding platform of his fighter, lifting himself with all four arms by the overhead supports and lowering himself into the cockpit. He immediately powered up the on-board systems and got a clear check. The conversion generator purred gently, cycling its tremendous power back into itself.
"Do you know what Keth was complaining about?" he asked Benthoran as the bay crew arrived to secure his straps.
"No, but I can imagine," the older crewmember said, frowning. "His fighter is as worn out as he is. Maintenance said that only a new ship would cure that, but Valthyrra put his request on hold."
"Of course," Velmeran agreed. "Save a new ship for someone who can use it."
"Are you going?" Valthyrra dethanded suddenly over ship's com.
"Yes, M'Lady!" he replied, and held still as Benthoran slipped the helmet over his head and closed the clips. He sealed the canopy and powered up the main drives as the crew chief quickly withdrew the overhead supports and the boarding platform. All of his fighters indicated ready, and Velmeran relayed pack ready to flight control. The forward doors were already going up, and Valthyrra gave them the count while it was still rising. A row of red lights above the wide door began to flash, beginning at either end and moving quickly to the large green light in the center.
Engines flaring, the nine little ships leaped out of their racks and thundered out of the bay. They slipped casually into V formation and they hurtled down the length of the Methryn's hull and shot out beneath her tapered nose. Once clear, the ship at the tip of each wing moved to the center of the pack, one above and one below. A moment later a second pack emerged from beneath the carrier, moving into formation as it closed rapidly to a position just behind the first.
Velmeran shifted power from the main drives to the star drive, and the two packs moved unhesitantly with him into starflight. They accelerated rapidly to overtake the freighter, setting a course to intercept the big ship. Velmeran could feel the slow, heavy drone of her star drive distinctly. Pilots depended more upon their inner senses than on scan, and visual was of no use at the speeds they flew. The packs flew wing to wing even in starflight, at speeds when Union pilots liked to put kilometers between each other, and yet with an accuracy that no automatic system could match.
They overtook the freighter in seconds, still unaware of her pursuers. Velmeran oriented by feel on the steady, rapid pulsing of the giant star drive. He could also sense the fighters about him, like nine high voices holding a single sustained note, and a second set of nine close behind. Far behind he could still hear the gentle hum of the Methryn's main drives. Starwolves could identify the size and type of ships by the frequency of their drives. Union ships pulsed low and heavy, phasing lower as the size of the drive increased; their warships phased more rapidly, forcing more power out of a crystal engine at the expense of slowly burning it out. Starwolf ships sang in clear, sustained tones; they knew how to get a great deal more power out of an engine without tearing it up.
The pack moved in close behind the freighter and matched her speed, breaking formation. Tregloran had first chance; he dove in with frightening speed and locked on the freighter's tail with surprising ease. But his prey was aware of him now; she executed a series of slow but elaborate turns and dodges, but he was still waiting when she righted herself and fired everything he had. That unfortunately included his tail cannon, and Velmeran had to jump to save his left wing. Several of his bolts caught the star drive too far near its outer edge and discharged into the flare.
Ferryn dropped into place immediately and tried to follow up on her brother's attack, but the freighter resumed her evasions. Ferryn held back until her chance came, then rushed forward. She fired too soon; her first bolts were deflected by the freighter's shields while her later shots were too near the center of the star drive and dissipated in the backwash of far greater energy.
Tregloran, greatly daring, began his run almost on his sister's tail, this time catching the freighter before she had time to evade. Velmeran doubted that he could make that work, for such tactics, while he might have observed their like from experienced pilots, were beyond his limited skill. But luck was with him that run, or else the promised reward inspired him to perforthance beyond what he would give for duty, ship or pack leader. A bolt slipped past on just the fringe of the star drive's flare, striking the immense crystal within centimeters of its outer edge. The drive flare intensified and exploded in a sudden, sustained flash as the damaged crystal melted from the core.
The freighter dropped out of starflight with an abruptness that almost twisted her apart, and the pack was upon her instantly. They saw her now for the first time; she was long and fat, her forward cabin extended forward of the holds, with generator and drives in a blocklike module behind. Now the fighters began their strafing runs at her bridge, as the freighter did her best to run sublight under her main drives.
It did not take long. A final shot found her bridge and discharged. With the main computer gone, the freighter quietly shut down her drives and major systems, leaving only lighting and atmosphere as she drifted in silence. Velmeran came in alone and sat just twenty meters off the ruined bridge while the short-range scanners of his ship probed for any sign of life. There was none, nor were any major systems in operation.
Now the capture ships moved in. Long and slender of body, almost all generator and drive systems, they approached the lifeless bulk of the freighter cautiously from behind. The pair moved in slowly, one to either side of the ship's ruined drive section. Three pairs of long, sturdy mechanical arms unfolded from their slender bellies to press their flat locking plates against the freighter's hull. Those locked down magnetically, and the capture ships pulled themselves close against the larger vessel's hull. Firing their main drives simultaneously, they slowly brought the drifting hulk around on a new course, back to where the Methryn waited patiently.
Velmeran thought that he had reason to be pleased, for his pack had flown well. They had run down and captured a fairly large freighter, nearly as big as they came, her damage limited to her star drive and bridge. He knew that her holds were full by the way she had slid through her turns; freighters were generally built to the specifications of an empty ship and running with cargo, as they were meant, actually strained their capacities. This run had been a victory for him as much as it had for his students. He was beginning to overcome self-doubt and indecision, and to look forward with hope to greater successes. Victory had a very sweet taste, and it was very addictive.
At that moment disaster was snatched from the jaws of victory.
Velmeran was instantly aware of a vague presence far behind him, at the very limit of his senses. It was remote and indistinct, like a very low, distant throbbing beneath the high voices of the ships about him. But, as each second passed, it grew louder and more certain. All too soon he had absolutely no doubt.
"I feel ships behind us!" he announced over com. "Cut loose that freighter and get out fast. This may be a trap."
The two capture ships cut acceleration and released their hold, leaving the freighter to drift as they shot away. The packs did not wait; Velmeran brought his around in a tight circle, turning back to meet this new threat, and Baressa's pack followed closely. The Starwolves were fearful of traps, for too often freighters exploded under attack or soon after capture. Sometimes their cargoes were volatile, but more often the freighters themselves were decoys and loaded with explosives. Such a trap had destroyed most of Velmeran's first pack, leaving only himself, Keth and Strata.
Valthyrra Methryn and her crew were just as quick to react. The Methryn, waiting just outside the system, fired her main drives and began to move in at her best sublight speed. Every fighter, transport and capture ship was made ready. Damage-control crews stood by while the bridge crew waited at their stations, ready to take control of their parts of the giant ship should Valthyrra have to shift her attention elsewhere.
"Velmeran, What is it?" Mayelna dethanded over com. She had to take over the supervision of the packs, since Valthyrra was preoccupied with preparing herself for battle.
"Ships," he answered simply.
She looked up as Valthyrra's camera pod moved toward her. "I can just make them out, sixty-five units from our present location and approaching rapidly. I count two carriers and three battleships, with about twenty escorts ranging from stingships to destroyers."
"And that freighter?" Mayelna asked.
"It never exploded," the ship explained. "No trap. My guess is that the attack run proceeded too far into system and was observed. The local comthander is either trying to scare us away, or else he believes in his good luck."
"We do not scare," Mayelna said coldly.
"No, not from this," the ship agreed. "I already have a pack in each bay. They will go as soon as they have pilots."
Mayelna bent over the com controls in the arm of her chair. "Help is coming. Can you and Baressa distract them for about five minutes?"
"They are already on their way," Valthyrra reported, amused.
"We are closing to attack," Velmeran answered. "Tell Valthyrra to keep herself clear."
Indeed he had long since led both packs into low starflight speeds, rushing into the depths of the system ahead to intercept the approaching ships as far from the Methryn as they could. The small fleet was coming toward them at about the same speed; for Union pilots, taking a ship into starflight within the confines of a planetary system was an act of either desperation or daring. Baressa had never said a word, so Velmeran assumed that she was following his lead. He was surprised by that; Baressa was not easily impressed.
Velmeran had somewhat impressed himself with his decisiveness, daring to lead a pack of students against a fleet. But there was really no choice as he saw it. He had two clear duties when the Methryn came under attack: to protect his carrier against her enemies, in spite of the fact that Valthyrra could take care of herself, and to protect the reputation of the Starwolves. Fear was the most effective weapon his kind possessed; the Union lived in fear of the black carriers and would more often run than fight. But that reputation had to be carefully maintained. The Starwolves had to answer every challenge and win every battle, pay back every hurt twice over, and they could never afford the luxury of a judicious retreat.
The two groups closed quickly, for starflight reduced planetary distances to small jumps. The packs split to circle around to either side and strike from opposite directions. The Unioners had to drop sublight to fight. They could not defend themselves effectively in starflight, and they certainly could not attack. They would drop to low sublight speeds, increasing their enemy's advantage but at least allowing their own fighters to attack and give their cannons a chance to track the quick wolf ships.
Without warning the fleet went sublight, braking hard, and the packs cut in sharply to strike from either side. The two carriers had already opened their immense bays and were expelling fighters at a furious pace. The three battleships and eight destroyers moved to the outside, prepared to distract their attackers with their own cannons. Stingships made ready their own attacks, while tenders and escorts could do little else but try to look small.
Their skill and innate sense of timing was such that the two packs struck the fleet from opposite sides at exactly the same moment. Now their advantage became most apparent. They could easily withstand the stresses of quick turns and accelerations hundreds of times as great as ordinary humans could endure, so that they could dodge in and out among the larger ships faster than the defenders, or even their automatic systems, could track.
Velmeran went first for the stingships, the greatest threat, in his opinion, to his students. These powerful little ships were all engine, faster even than fighters and possessing a pair of cannons with the range and power of the main battery of a destroyer. Most of his pilots were impressed with the larger targets, and were busy ripping up the big cannons on the battleships and destroyers. Baressa had sent her more experienced pilots after the fighters, even shooting into the bays to prevent the rest from launching. Keth and Treg had gone after the smaller gunships.
Velmeran had cut in at the rear of the fleet and was making his way up its scattered length, seeking out and removing the more subtle threats. Wolf ships were moving in and out too fast for him to identify most by the pitch of their engines, although he did see that Tregloran had disabled a destroyer and was following it to its end. Velmeran would have liked to have seen what the younger pilot did with his target, but in the next instant he had to jump to avoid flying headlong into the forward battery of a battleship. He barely had time to fire twice into her bridge before he shot past, well aware that bolts from her cannons were passing him within meters. That served as a quick lesson in failing to pay attention; he could end up the first casualty for worrying about his students.
By the time that he had turned back, he saw that he had done better with the battleship than he anticipated. While his bolts had missed her main computers, they had still destroyed the bridge. The immense ship was flying blind, her engines flaring and completely out of control. Her automatic systems continued to fight, but slower than normal, and she was firing at anything that moved. Tenders that had been moving to assist her were forced to retreat quickly when her cannons destroyed two of them.
Velmeran fell in with two others who were going after her drives. They took out four of her six main drives and were setting up for another run only to shear away suddenly. The ship's damaged computers had kept her generators running at full, still trying to feed engines that were no longer in operation. Major circuits overloaded and burned out and a series of explosions began to rip apart the aft of the giant warship. A moment later her generators exploded with force enough to vaporize the entire ship, as well as the tenders and escorts still trying to get clear. Only the wolf ships had been quick enough to escape.
The remainder of the fleet was quick to react. All of the larger ships suddenly paused, their engines stilled, as they pivoted thirty-five degrees from their previous course. Then they refired their engines and shot off in this new direction. That move caught more than half of the Starwolves by surprise and they suddenly found themselves left behind, separated from the fleet but surrounded by Union fighters and stingships.
But it came too late. Only the stingships had the power and speed to be effective, but just two of those ships remained. The Union fighters were too slow and too lightly shielded, their guns too weak. The Starwolves turned to pursue the fleeing warships, destroying everything in their path. The fighters were left behind instantly but the stingships accelerated quickly, hoping to keep the wolf ships in range long enough for a few shots. But two of the black fighters had held back, and now fell in behind the stingships. The hunters became the hunted, and the chase did not last long.
Free of its own fighters, the Union fleet now ran at several times its former speed, its ships spacing out to twist and evade. Time was beginning to work to the Starwolves' advantage. All of the Union ships had suffered some damage, their stingships were gone, and their fighters were left behind. But the Starwolves' numbers were still intact, their ships were undamaged, and their pilots were still fairly fresh. Moreover, they were expecting the support of eight more packs at any moment.
One of the two remaining battleships suddenly faltered and began to fall behind, having lost its main computer control. Velmeran held back to watch, for the ship was not heavily damaged and could have been restarted. But her crew had had enough. Launches and transports began to leave her after a long moment, and even a few escape modules popped out of their tiny bays. That left a nearly intact battleship to drift, which the Starwolves could recover at their convenience.
Velmeran accelerated quickly after the remainder of the fleet, with Keth and Steena close behind him. Keth had been hard pressed to keep up this pace. But he had disabled that last battleship, if more by chance than actual skill. Now he felt young and quick again, encouraged by his success. He moved rapidly through the fleet, firing into the tail of a destroyer as he bore down on the remaining battleship. He was coming up close behind one of the carriers, but he ignored her as he sighted on his real target. The destroyer he had just strafed exploded and he glanced back, wondering if he had been responsible for that.
He turned back to his intended prey, only to see that the carrier had turned abruptly across his path. He was streaking down the length of her hull on a course that would cause him to strike her just forward of her bays, in the crew section just behind the bridge. Already it was too late to turn away. Just ahead he saw a large airlock with double doors nearly as wide as his own ship. This was one of the main crew ports; a wide corridor would run right through the width of the ship, emerging on an identical lock on the opposite side. If he kept up his speed, and his shields held, he could poke a hole right through this carrier.
Keth threw full power to his engines and dove straight toward those double doors. His fighter struck with a jarring impact, crashing through both outer and inner lock doors. For an instant longer the shields continued to hold, forcing a path for the fighter by crushing back the walls and ceiling of the corridor. But the stress was too great, and the shields suddenly failed explosively. The wings and fins of the fighter were ripped off in that same instant, but its main body was thrown forward to slide down the length of the corridor. The walls continued to press on it, breaking its momentum, grinding slowly to a stop that left it firmly wedged in the passage.
Keth released his tight grip on the controls and sat back, breathing heavily. He would have made it if his engines had not failed, for the doors of the second airlock were only five meters from the nose of his ship. If he could restart his generator, he could shoot out those doors and use his engines to squeeze on through. He removed his helmet and the upper straps of his seat so that he could bend over the screen and small keyboard on his on-board computer, ordering a systems check.
The screen began with a four-way schematic of the fighter, then began to subtract from those sketches to allow for missing parts. The computer considered the extent of the damage and announced its verdict: failure: all main systems. But he had expected that, and began to work his way past all the safeties and lock-outs and tried to restart the generator. There was no response except that the computer investigated the damage again, thinking about it a long time before it reached a conclusion: generator inoperative: failure all main systems. To prove its point, it quickly sketched out the schematic for the generator and main power channels. Keth knew enough about the mechanics to see that this ship was better off scrap.