Thorarinn Gunnarsson - Tactical Error

Velmeran considered that, and after a moment he looked very surprised, even stricken. “No, he cannot, can he? Why would he exchange one set of Starwolves for another, unless he means to destroy both?”

“But what can he do about it now, once he has sent his own Starwolves out on their own?” Lenna asked, understanding what he meant.

“Trace has to destroy his own Starwolves as soon as they have completed the task they were created for,” Velmeran explained. “If I were him, I would have those Cruisers rigged to explode by remote detonation.”

“Commander?” Venn Keflyn prompted him softly, sensing his growing concern and fear.

“He is here,” Velmeran said. “He has been here all along, waiting for me to come to him.”

“Oh, yes. That is the part I was coming to,” Lenna exclaimed.

“I cannot say that he has necessarily been waiting,for you, but Donalt Trace has been here all along. Ever since his Mock Starwolves took off, which was only a matter of days before I arrived. That shadow of his, Maeken Kea, took off for Kanis on the very night I arrived.”

Velmeran was still pulling on his helmet as he hurried back to the landing bay, followed closely by Venn Keflyn and Lenna Makayen. This place had taken on all the characteristics of a trap, perhaps for just himself or for the Methryn, but quite possibly for them both. He would not feel better about it until he had himself off this planet, and had his ship well away from this system. Then he would have to decide what to do about his many problems, and in a hurry. But for right now, he was sure of just one thing. Donalt Trace had been waiting for him. That meant of course that Trace had intended for him to come.

“Everyone to your ships,” he ordered as soon as he had access to his suits regular com link. “We will be getting out of here in a hurry. Val?”

“Commander?” the ship’s distant voice responded.

“If you see any ships coming at you, you are to break orbit and make your run into starflight as quickly as you can get there,” he ordered. “It could very well be something that you cannot fight.”

“Of course, Commander,” Valthyrra agreed rather doubtfully. Velmeran knew that hell itself would not chase her out of orbit until he was back on board, but he did not have the time to argue with her.

“That would be a damned fine thing if, after eighteen centuries, this old ship is destroyed by Starwolves,” Velmeran muttered furiously as he climbed the retractable boarding steps and pulled himself into the cockpit, strapping himself in as quickly as he could. “My friends, civilization as we know it really is about to end. To make matters worse, Donalt Trace is here waiting for us. We gain nothing by playing his game, so we are getting out of here now.”

Velmeran sealed his canopy and brought the fighter up to operating power. He had thought that he had trained Lenna Makayen better, that she was too experienced to make such a simple mistake. For the entire time that she had been here, she had known that Donalt Trace had been here as well, waiting. Had she never asked herself what he had been waiting for?

He brought his fighter up and swung around slowly, retracting the landing gear as he headed toward the entrance of the tram tunnels. The time had come to move quickly, to find themselves an open bay and get clear of this base. If Donalt Trace was going to dispute their departure, it would have to be now. Following unspoken orders, Baress moved in close behind his commander and then the more vulnerable transport took the middle position, protected from the rear by Baressa and finally Venn Keflyn’s flying tank.

Velmeran turned into the tram tunnel and accelerated quickly, remembering that it was several kilometers beneath the ridge back to the main portion of the base. As his fighter shot down the half-lit passages of stone, his mind was occupied with the same relentless question. Why was Trace still here? Why did Trace expect to meet him here? And most importantly, why did Trace want to meet him? Vengeance was one of Donalt Trace’s greatest concerns in life, he did not doubt, yet that tall, strangely honorable man was driven primarily by his will and need to succeed. He possessed some hate born of his contempt for alien races, the Starwolves most of all, yet the man was not willfully evil. Indeed, he believed almost fanatically in the rightness of his own cause, a sentiment not completely shared by many of his own superiors. The motivations in Trace’s life were simple enough to define. He had once been assigned the task of fighting and defeating Starwolves by Councilor Jon Lake, one of the few men that Donalt Trace had ever admired and a man now long dead. And the role of righteous deliverer was one that Trace liked to wear.

Velmeran was coming to realize that, unless he was very careful in every decision he made in the coming days, Donalt Trace might actually win their long battle of force and cunning.

The tunnel began to make a series of regular turns, a warning that they had returned to the main area of the base. Velmeran slowed, looking for a side passage that would lead them to one of the freighter bays, and the way out. It was then that he began to realize just how much trouble they were in already. All of the side passages were closed by heavy metal doors, steering the Starwolves through the endless circuit of the main tram passages. Donalt Trace was aware of their presence, and he was not yet ready for them to leave.

“Commander, we are being followed,” Venn Keflyn warned suddenly. “There are two large machines coming up slowly behind my ship, one on each of the two tram tracks.”

“Those are probably security trams,” Lenna Makayen warned, commandeering the transport’s communications. “They possess a pair of very nasty cannons mounted in a turret over their cockpits.”

“I understand,” the Aldessan answered. “I am diverting all of my ship’s available power to the rear hemisphere of my shields. That should give us reasonable protection against anything they could mount on a small mobile platform.”

“Can the rest of you manage a little more speed?” Velmeran asked.

“We are doing quite well here,” Trel answered from the transport.

“I can hold my own,” Venn Keflyn assured him.

“You tell me if we are going too fast for you,” Velmeran said as he began pushing their speed up. “You have the largest ship.”

“And the slowest reflexes of the group,” she added. “Besides, I am under very strict orders not to allow my ship, intact or otherwise, to fall into Union hands. I have no choice, have I?”

The small group of ships steadily increased their speed, until they were whipping around the wide turns of the tram tunnels. Soon they were pushing past speeds of 250 or even 300 kilometers per hour, faster than even the best human pilot could have taken a ship through such tight quarters. All the same, Velmeran kept their speed somewhat less than he might have, mindful of Venn Keflyn’s limitations.

However Venn Keflyn might have been holding up under the circumstances, the security trams were doing even better. They had been built for highspeed runs through the tunnels, although not so much for the chase as to get where they were needed as quickly as possible. All of the larger tram engines and their trailers were locked down to the magnetic tracks, and the security trams had additional restraints to keep them on the tracks during highspeed turns. This speed was certainly no problem for them. The security trams continued to close until they were within a couple of hundred meters, close enough to get off occasional shots during the longer straight runs. At least the corvette’s powerful shields were able to shed the bolts like the shell of a tortoise. “Venn Keflyn?” Velmeran asked.