“All packs away,” Valthyrra reported. “Both assault forces have formed under their leaders and are ready to advance.”
“You may relay to them their order to advance,” Velmeran responded as he stood leaning over the front console of the Commander’s station, watching the forward viewscreen. “Close and secure the landing bays and ready your primary and secondary batteries.”
“Yes, Captain,” Valthyrra answered with martial formality.
Velmeran turned quickly as he became aware that Mayelna was standing behind him.
“This is your first time to fight from the bridge,” she began. “It seems to me that you should be sitting at the Commander’s station. It has all the monitors and controls you need to keep an eye on everything.”
“But… that is your place,” he protested.
“That seat is for the Commander of this ship,” Mayelna insisted. “I will assist you in every way I can, but just now you are the Commander.”
“Oh, no. I could not,” Velmeran objected as she physically pulled him over to the seat, retracted back on its runners. “I do not feel up to that seat just yet.”
“Nonsense. It fits you just fine, I am sure.” Mayelna managed to force him into the seat and activated the control to roll it forward. “You see, it fits just fine.”
“I feel like a pretender to the throne.”
“Heir apparent, I believe they used to say,” Mayelna corrected him, smiling. “You know, it has been just about twenty years since you used to come up to the bridge and sit in my seat. I never suspected that you were trying it on for size. But you have certainly grown into it. I am glad that I am here to see it.”
Velmeran smiled shyly, glancing down, well aware of her deep sincerity. Then he noticed Valthyrra’s camera pod hovering not two meters away.
“What are you waiting for? Begin your attack run,” he ordered sharply. “This is where you get your lumps.”
“Here she comes now,” Maeken Kea warned, looking up from the monitors of her own console.
Donalt Trace turned sharply from the forward viewscreen to look at her. “Is she? They were taking so long, I was beginning to think that they must be up to something.”
“That remains to be seen,” Maeken remarked. “There is something about the way she just jumped up and started a run straight at us that makes me think she knows exactly how to handle us. Marenna Challenger?”
“Yes, Captain?”
“Turn your forward battery to meet that ship, then shield your engines,” she ordered sharply. “Give full power to your hull shields. Open fire as soon as the Methryn comes into range.”
“Yes, Captain.”
Maeken sat back for a long moment, staring in silence at the Methryn’s projected path on the central monitor of her console. Donalt Trace became curious about what she could be thinking, and slowly walked over to stand looking unobtrusively over her shoulder. He thought he understood. The Methryn was moving fast, and projected to pass at one-half light speed. And she would pass only two thousand kilometers to one side. That was not very far, not at that speed, and much nearer than he would have expected.
“Do you know what they are up to?” he asked at last.
“Perhaps,” Maeken mused. “They might be thinking — with some justification — that their weapons track better than our own. Or rather, that they can move too fast for our weapons to track. By moving fast enough, they can sneak through an attack run with little risk of serious damage.”
“For all the good it does them,” Trace remarked contemptuously. “A few seconds of cannonfire each run will get them nowhere.”
“True, but it does waste time for more ships to arrive,” Maeken pointed out. “Or, if she is carrying nuclear or conversion missiles, this is exactly the type of run she would make. And where is the Kalvyn? We hurt her, but she is still perfectly capable of a stiff fight.”
Commander Trace did not reply; there was hardly any need. If Velmeran knew that help was coming, he needed only to keep the Challenger occupied until a number of carriers converged on the vast warship. And if the Methryn was carrying a score of high-energy warheads, this battle would be a short one. The quartzite shielding could turn such an explosion, but not a sustained barrage. Quartzite shielding was incredibly brittle; the smallest crack would spread in seconds to peel the shell off the entire ship. And the heavy outer shield was useless against missiles.
“Stand by,” Maeken warned the bridge crew. “Marenna Challenger, remember to fire as soon as possible. The Methryn is going to be moving into your bolts.”
“Yes, Captain,” the ship responded. “I calculate approximately seven seconds of effective firing time on the Methryn’s approach, with only about three as she passes. Beginning the count in five seconds from… now.”
It was as if the entire ship snapped to attention as console after console on the Challenger’s vast bridge leaped into life. Five separate scanning and tracking systems identified the target for hundreds of cannons, and each cannon locked on, not on the Methryn herself but where she would be. A moment later those same consoles hummed with frantic activity as over half the Challenger’s guns opened fire, shooting well ahead of their fast-moving target so that their bolts would be there in time to intercept the Methryn.
The two ships closed to range and, for two full seconds, exchanged a fierce barrage of fire. Then the Methryn was rocked by an explosion so intense that, for a moment, she actually disappeared from scan in the violent backwash of energy. The Challenger ceased fire immediately. Then the Methryn shot past, still and lifeless, her original course deflected slightly by the force of that explosion. She was tumbling already, her bow dipping as she began to roll end over end.
“We got her?” Commander Trace asked in the stunned silence that enveloped the entire bridge.
“I think…,” Maeken answered hesitantly in her disbelief.
“An apparent hit on the Methryn’s main generators amid-ship,” Marenna Challenger reported with her usual calm detachment. “I scan only emergency power in effect. The Methryn is drifting out of control.”
“Open fire!” Maeken snapped impatiently.
“The Methryn is out of my range.”
“Then follow her! Chase her down! Pursue at your best speed until you have her back in range,” Maeken ordered, repeating herself, in what was becoming a habit, to be certain that she was understood. She turned to Donalt Trace. “Hold on, Commander.”
Trace hurried to a spare seat at the rear of the bridge. Union ships did not increase their gravity to counter acceleration, since ordinary humans could not endure the extra stress. Instead they cut gravity and counted on everyone being in a seat. The Challenger swung her blunt nose around and began to accelerate, and she had a surprising amount of jump for her size. Even so, the Methryn, drifting at one-half light, was leaving her far behind.
“How long?” Trace asked.
“Marenna is pushing herself to the limit,” Maeken reported. “Even so, we’re looking at seven minutes to match her speed and another nine to overtake her. I have already ordered the stingships to intercept her packs and keep them clear. Surveillance just reported that the Kalvyn is coming after us in a hurry, but we will overtake the Methryn first.”
“We have to disable the Methryn completely in time to meet the Kalvyn,” Commander Trace said. “Only missiles will catch her now. Give her a pair.”
“The Methryn has no shields,” Maeken informed him.
“I want that ship as intact as possible,” Trace ordered. “Set the missiles to explode close enough to give her a good, stiff jolt.”