Thorarinn Gunnarsson - Battle of the Ring

Lenna stared at him in disbelief. “You’ll not stop me?”

“I thought I made that plain.”

Lenna returned to her hurried packing. “There’s a fair number of things in the studio I’ve been saving. You can sell them to the next buyer to come through. Remember that there will be some money coming in on those limited-edition representations. Keep it.”

“How do I explain your disappearance?”, Iyan asked. “‘Lenna? Oh, she ran off to join the Starwolves’?”

“Don’t be silly,” she said as she tied the bundle together. “Say I went back to the Traders. That’s where I’m likely to end up, so it will likely be the truth in the long run. Tell the Trade Association to replace me with that kid they’ve had me training.”

“He’s ready?”

“Good enough.”

“And will I be seeing you again?”

She paused and sighed heavily. “How can I say at this time? Don’t count on it. But if I don’t go out the door now, you’ll be seeing me again soon.”

“On your way, then,” Iyan said as he stepped back to allow her out the door. “You be careful, now. What you have in mind is dangerous enough. But then, you know who you’ve taken up with.”

The problem, of course, was that she did not. She knew that the Methryn was the abode of such legendary figures as Velmeran, Mayelna, and Valthyrra Methryn herself, but she also had Sergei to protect her from them. In her own overactive imagination, Velmeran was a towering, dashingly handsome hulk with sophisticated wit and daredevil nerve, while Sergei was gentle and pensive.

Her clothing, adequate for a Starwolf, was by no means sufficient to keep her warm in this weather, and the large bundle under her right arm was a wearisome burden. She crossed the Mall and left through the door where she had parted from Velmeran an hour earlier. She could not see five meters ahead for the snow and mist, and she had no way of knowing if Starwolf transports were still parked out there, or even for certain where they might be. The Kelvessa sensed the secondary generators idling in the ships, but she knew only the direction in which she had seen Velmeran go. Dressed as she was, in this wind and bitter cold, she would not survive long if she became lost.

Lenna had gone perhaps three-quarters of the distance when she heard the dull, bone-shaking roar of a transport heading straight up. Seconds later the curtain of snow parted before her, revealing the right side of a transport buried up to its hull in a drift. She ran up to the airlock door just behind the forward cabin and pounded on it with a numbed fist. The door opened immediately, and a startled Starwolf in black armor stared down at her.

“Are you going up soon?” she called over the wind.

“Right now, in fact. They just called down to say that everyone was accounted for. Another minute and you would have been left behind.”

He reached down for her bundle. Although it was nearly a third of her weight, she did her best to lift it up with the contemptuous ease a Starwolf would have displayed. By the time that she had climbed aboard, the pilot had gone to stow her package. A lucky guess showed her which button closed the airlock. She collapsed in one of the four seats behind the forward cabin, too cold to be properly frightened.

“Did you miss the call?” the pilot asked as he returned.

“I was not in armor, and I did not have a radio,” she explained, hoping that was a valid excuse. She slipped into the curious Starwolf accent with amazing ease.

“That must be the best disguise that I have ever seen,” he said as he passed. “You look almost human.”

“Thanks,” Lenna muttered. The truth was that she was fearful that melting snow caught in her hair was threatening her makeup.

The pilot took his seat in the forward cabin and she heard him strapping in, so she did the same. Moments later she felt the transport lift straight up on its field drive. Then she was flattened into her seat by at least twenty-five G’s as the little ship climbed steeply. Her space-bred ancestry allowed her to endure this with little discomfort; no true human could have remained conscious under that unrelenting stress. Some would not have survived.

It did not last more than five minutes, presumably all the time it took to get this ship into orbit. She released her straps and searched the rear cabin until she found a small mirror. Quickly reassured that her disguise had not suffered, she went to the forward cabin for a look out its wide windows.

The first thing she saw was the Methryn, no more than twice its own length away and completely filling the forward view. She had seen pictures of the carriers and knew their specifics, but nothing could accurately convey the true size, power, and majesty of these vast ships. The transport overtook the larger ship rapidly, passing beneath its broad belly, making for the small bay that stood open near the front, a pocket of intense light against the blackness.

“Who are you, anyway?” the pilot asked as he maneuvered into position.

“Consherra.” She offered the name of the only female Starwolf she knew, the one that Velmeran had named his mate.

“Consherra!” the pilot exclaimed incredulously. “Well, you are late. I had thought that you had not gone down in the first place.”

Handling arms reached down from the bay to pull the transport in, and the thick bay doors swung shut beneath it. This was not one of the two immense holding bays, of course, and it had looked insignificant against the bulk of the ship. But it was larger than any warehouse in port Kallenes, as Lenna could see now.

“We are home,” the pilot announced as he hastily closed down all the systems aboard the transport. “Half a moment and I will have it open. I suppose that you want to go straight to the bridge.”

Lenna nodded absently. She was too busy thinking ahead to what she should do next to truly appreciate that she was actually aboard the Methryn, and the only uninvited guest the ship had seen in her eighteen thousand years.

Lenna stared as she stepped down out of the transport. The smooth inner panels of the bay doors had folded shut to form the featureless deck on which she now stood, still cold with exposure to space. The walls of each side of the bay were filled with racks of two different sizes, the smaller holding transports such as she had just ridden while the other held capture ships and a large type of transport. They were lifted into place by rectractable handling arms such as the set that held her own transport a meter above the deck while five crewmembers in white armor trimmed in black hurried to service it.

“Here!” a voice called from behind. She turned quickly, and the pilot tossed her bundle into her arms. The weight nearly knocked her over backward, and she strained to get it under control before the Starwolves noticed that she was not as strong as themselves.

“Are you going up to the bridge?” the pilot asked as he leaped down beside her. He started toward a shelflike area at one side of the bay, and she thought it best to join him until she could slip away.

“If we are getting under way soon, I should be there,” she answered, recalling Consherra’s duty as helm.

“We will be getting under way immediately. They were waiting for me.”

“I should be in my armor, but no time now,” she said with a touch of regret. In fact, she was wondering if she could hide out easier if she could get herself into a suit or armor, letting the lower arms hang free. She had not yet considered that the Starwolves spoke a language of their own.

“Have you heard what the trouble is?” the pilot asked as she stopped before the lift door to press the call button. “I was wondering what Velmeran had to say.”