Thorarinn Gunnarsson - Tactical Error

“Commander?” Consherra asked, using his title in her surprise.

He shook his head. “There is just no help for it. I want everything out of this ship that is not a part of either the generators, weapons, or drives. All of the racks for the fighters, the tools from the machine shops, and the equipment from the science labs, and the furnishing for the schools and sick bay. Even the simulators. Everything that can be taken from this ship has to go. The Methryn does not have the shielding or the engines of that new ship, and she has just about ruined her spaceframe. The only advantage I can give her now is to strip her of all excess weight. I believe that we might be able to cut her down by as much as three million tons.”

“I agree,” Valthyrra added. “And by having no crewmembers on board, I will be free to run interference for the others and take superficial damage without concern.”

Velmeran looked up at her camera pod, suddenly aware from her words that she knew they would not be coming back to this ship. The Methryn would not fly again. He doubted that she would even survive this battle, however things turned out. The Methryn had been built for war, and perhaps it was only proper for her to die in battle. But Valthyrra would not die with the Methryn, not if he could help it.

He turned to Consherra. “This is your department. I doubt that anyone in this base knows more about the sentient complex of this ship than you, but I will ask about just the same. As soon as we are docked, I want you to begin the process of duplicating Valthyrra’s memory units.”

“There is not time to get Valthyrra installed in that new ship,” Consherra protested.

“No, but we can move her in as soon as this is over,” he told her. “She has to fly the Methryn in this battle, and there is not time to pull her own units before the battle anyway. You know how deeply buried they are. We will pull them out later, if we can. But just in case, I want duplicates.”

The Methryn moved into her docking bay as soon as she had discharged the last of her ships, taking the bay immediately to the left of the carrier that had still been under construction. Tenders were already standing by to begin pulling unused fighters, empty racks, and a mountain of spare parts from the backs of the fighter bays. There was no artificial gravity in the bay itself, only on board the ship, so the Starwolves were able to simply throw a fair amount of crated material overboard to be retrieved by the tenders when they could.

Velmeran took a small crew directly to the new ship, to get the bays open and to take a quick look about the carrier and make certain that she was ready to fight. Fortunately the ship seemed to be in a completely flight-ready condition, lacking only memory cells to begin the slow, careful process of bringing her to life. Those were missing because Velmeran had known for some time that he would have to move Valthyrra into this new ship, and he had asked several months earlier that the new ship not be activated until he could assess the Methryn’s condition at the time of completion and determine whether she could serve a few years more.

There was certainly no lack of help. Many Kelvessan scientists, engineers, and technicians, some only just released from internment awaiting sterilization or even death, hurried to assist in preparing the new carrier for flight. Many more Kelvessan from throughout the station arrived to help in any way they could. They threatened to slow things up in their eagerness to express their appreciation to the Methryn and especially Commander Velmeran, until he made it clear that he needed help more than thanks and that there was not a moment to spare.

“Oh, I know that she is ready to fly,” Admiral Laroose, recently returned from a premature retirement, explained when he found Velmeran touring the ship’s engineering sections. “We had her out twice earlier, before the Senate forbade it.”

“That helps,” Velmeran said. “Two carriers, some 250 fighters, and the automated defense drones. If the gods have elected to forgive me for being inattentive to my duties these past few years, we might just have a chance to win, which does bring me to the next point. The attack force will probably invite us to fight on a single front, but I doubt very much that they will keep to one. If anything comes up behind us, I want those defense drones in position and ready. I very much need for you to coordinate their attack.”

Laroose waved his hands in a gesture of refusal. “No battle experience, old boy!”

“You are still the best I have. Besides, I am adamant about this becoming a strictly Kelvessan battle. The Republic needs a chance to earn back her own honor.”

“Then I accept reluctantly,” Laroose agreed, and frowned. “It’s a damned shame that you had to grant pardons to Delike and his chums. If you had just sent word, me and a few of my boys would have gladly strangled them.”

“It served its purpose,” Velmeran said, looking up at him. “And who says that I pardoned them? I only made a couple of very specific promises about what I will and will not do to them. I still believe that fortune usually finds a way to restore the balance of payments.”

By that time, Consherra had finally made arrangements to begin the transfer of Valthyrra’s memory units. Eight of the massive memory cells were located in separate portions of the carrier’s forward section, each a heavily armored block the size of a large shipping container. The units themselves were secured within their own protective access tube, so heavily shielded that they often survived the complete destruction of the ship itself. Consherra had been able to find eight newly-constructed blank units, ready for installation in a ship of their own. She had two of these moved into each of the Methryn’s four transport bays, where they would be nearest the Methryn’s own units.

There was enough help at hand to have the heavy transfer cables laid out between the blank units in the bays and the access panels to Valthyrra’s units deeper within the ship. Consherra moved quickly, knowing that each passing minute could be depriving Valthyrra of that much more of her memory. The transfer of memory from one unit to another was risky enough under the best of circumstances, ordinarily used only for the replacement of an aging or faulty unit. Attempting the transfer of all eight units at the same time multiplied the risk by that much, and the highspeed encoding method was reserved for only a dire emergency. If the transfer was too incomplete, then Valthyrra’s personality programming would also be too incomplete to engage and return her to life.

“I am ready to enter the first unit,” Consherra announced to the portable com link she wore on her collar. She was standing before a very heavy and secure hatch built into the wall of one of the Methryn’s endless corridors. “This unit access panel is labeled as A3 1121.”

“Tread softly,” Valthyrra answered as she opened the hatch. “You stand before my primary cell. Most of my personality is locked within that unit. You may begin.”

Consherra entered, making her way through the four meters or so of narrow tunnel that led her to a second hatch, trailing the final length of the transfer cable behind her. She lifted a heavy, long-handled tool, in form like an immense socket wrench, and fitted the cylinder-shaped lock at its end into the receptacle in the center of the hatch. It was in its way a large key, never kept on board the ship itself but only under guard at Alkayja Base. With the mechanical key installed, she took a small magnetic card from a compartment in the handle of the key and inserted this in a slot in the wall to the right of the hatch.

The chip inside the card fed its data through the magnetic contacts into the electronic lock, which recognized her right to access to the core. Six heavy latches pulled back one after the other, and Consherra pulled down on the handle of the mechanical lock, releasing its own internal latches. Then she took hold of the massive handles on either side of the hatch and lifted it clear, breaking the airtight seal. The hatch itself weighed nearly two hundred kilograms, a final insurance against the credentials of the one opening the core. It was no burden for the enhanced strength of a Kelvessan or even the four powerful arms of an Aldessan of Valtrys, its original designers. But no human could have lifted it clear.