Thorarinn Gunnarsson - Battle of the Ring

Velmeran was very happy to have her back, although his present happiness was in fact the result of several factors. The ship was nearly back in one piece; all the new drives were in place, and his own device for cracking quartzite shielding had been successfully tested. Lenna was very happy and very much her old self. And Consherra could have her child at any moment now. Velmeran could find no practical explanation for why that fairly common event should be of any special concern to him, especially when Consherra herself did not appear at all concerned. The fact remained, however, that he could barely contain his excitement.

He had gone with Keflyn and Tregloran to meet Laroose at the construction airdock where the frame for the new carrier was being laid, suspended in free-fall in the confines of the vast chamber. As they watched, a piece of metal longer than a Union battleship was being pushed gently into place by a team of construction tenders.

“Is the Vardon’s current design any different from what we have always used?” Velmeran asked.

“At this point, no,” Laroose replied. “We want to avoid any noticeable change in the outward form that would identify the Vardon as different from the other ships. At this time, our only definite plan is to hide a second conversion cannon inside a slightly wider cannon sheath. Those new missiles of your design go into existing launch tubes. Unless you draw up some new designs yourself, I anticipate no other changes.”

Velmeran considered that a moment. “Are you inviting me to redesign that ship however I please?”

“You can do whatever you damn well please, and I’ll see that it’s done,” Laroose promised him with a conspiratorial grin, suspecting what the young Starwolf had in mind.

“Well, there might be a certain value in having a flagship of the Starwolf fleet, something that looks bigger and meaner than the usual big, mean carrier. Something that states in no uncertain terms that Velmeran and the Methryn have arrived.”

“But that is not the Methryn,” Keflyn pointed out. “What would Valthyrra have to say?”

“Actually, it would be very simple to transfer Valthyrra and her memory cells into this new ship, and I suspect that she would covet the opportunity. Which is why I do not want her to know of this until something definite is decided. We can always give Theralda Vardon the old Methryn.”

“While we’re on the subject, I received a bit of news a few minutes ago,” Laroose interrupted. “It seems that Donalt Trace is alive and well. Or alive and recovering, you might say.”

“He survived?” Velmeran was incredulous.

The tall human nodded gravely. “They had to reskin him and give him a set of mechanical arms, but he’s hardly the worse for wear.”

“Val traron” the Starwolf muttered to himself. “Did he salvage his professional career, or did they hold him to blame for losing the Challenger?”

“That’s the damnedest part. They seem to think that he’s some rare species of hero. That’s how we heard of this. He was just appointed the newly created High Commander of the Union Fleet, giving him authority over all the Sector Fleets.”

“Well, bully for him!” Velmeran stated in disgust. “Now he really will know how to make my life miserable. What about his old position in the Rane Sector?”

“Oh, that went to that diminutive shadow of his, that Maeken Kea. They’ve become a pair, as far as the Union is concerned. He’s the best thing to come along since the Unification, and she’s a close second. Bless me if I know what they…” Laroose paused to watch Velmeran closely, as did the others. His eyes unfocused like the twin lenses of a camera pod. Then he leaped up so suddenly that the others jumped in nervous response.

“Vey von schess! Aval trenon de altrys caldayson! Vey von schess!” he exclaimed as he ran from the observation deck, Tregloran only a second behind. “I have to get back to the Methryn.”

Keflyn perked her ears and started to follow.

“Wait!” Laroose called after her. “What did he say?”

“Vey von schess! the Aldessa replied. “It is here.”

“What is here? What does it mean?”

“I have no idea, but it must be very important,” she called over her back as she trotted out the door.

The construction bay was over a third of the way around the, huge station from where the Methryn was moored. There were no convenient lifts, and the small trams were slow and had the habit of stopping every half kilometer. The quickest way Velmeran knew to reach his ship, short of teleportation, was to run. At a sustained speed of seventy-five kilometers per hour, he and Tregloran covered that distance in half an hour. Keflyn, with her two-meter legs and tremendous strength, could match that with difficulty. Commander Laroose, who knew a few tricks from long experience, commandeered a tug and arrived slightly ahead of the others, catching up with them at the Methryn’s airlock.

The mystery was revealed when the lift let them out at the Methryn’s medical section. Velmeran rushed into the main reception room just as Dyenlerra stepped out of a smaller room.

“Where? Where?” he demanded frantically.

“There! There!” she exclaimed mockingly, jumping and gesturing to the room she had just left. “You wait here.”

She disappeared into the room, leaving the astonished Velmeran standing in the middle of the main foyer. A moment later Consherra emerged from that same room. It was the first time in three months that she had been able to button a shirt all the way down.

“Where are you going?” Velmeran asked, mystified.

“Back to the bridge,” she replied. “I was supervising the repairs when this began, and I thought that I should be getting back.”

Keflyn twitched her ears but said nothing. After all, anyone who could lift six tons would not consider this anything more than a half-hour diversion from one’s normal schedule. Consherra had been expecting this for half a year, so the novelty had certainly worn off. But that was not the case for the rest of the crew. Lenna arrived at that moment, and Baress was only seconds behind.

Then the almost tangible sense of anticipation was transformed into an audible sigh of relief as Dyenlerra returned bearing a tiny patient cradled in her four arms. Tiny was indeed the word, for young Kelvessan seldom weighted more than a kilo at birth. Nor did they look any more alien from their human counterparts than at this time of life. She was in most ways a miniature of the adult, a tiny body with long, slender arms and legs and a large head with immense eyes. This remarkably advanced state of development included a full set of teeth and a thick, disheveled mane of brown hair that extended just past the upper shoulders. She sat upright in Dyenlerra’s hands, staring about in a bemused but curious fashion.

“Congratulations, Commander,” the medic said as she transferred the little one into his arms. “It’s a wolf.”

Father and daughter stared at each other with the same vacant mystification. The little Kelvessa’s curiosity was insatiable, reflected in vast eyes that peered out in wonder beneath an unruly shock of hair. She stared up at Velmeran with special interest, as if she sensed a closer tie with him. She reached up and took hold of his nose with a hand too small to fit around it and made an inquisitive chirping sound. Velmeran smiled.

“What a wonderful, wonderful thing this is,” he said softly. “What an incredibly delightful young lady she is. Of all the wonders I have seen, this is surely the greatest.”

“Privately, I have to admit that I could not be more pleased,” Consherra said, moving close beside him to brush the hair out of the little one’s eyes. “And nothing makes me happier than to see how happy you are.”