Maeken entered the semicircular area of the bridge, crossing to the raised central portion of the Captain’s station. The Challenger’s bridge was a vague copy of that of the Starwolf carriers, although there was no middle bridge for helm and weapons officer. She was not surprised to find Donalt Trace in the Captain’s seat, only annoyed that the chair had obviously been made to his size. Even as she climbed the steps to the central bridge, he signed some report and returned the board to Lieutenant Skerri, the ship’s second-in-command, who hurried on his way.
“Why was a Kalfethki walking down the corridor of this ship?” she demanded unceremoniously.
Trace only shrugged. “To get to the other side?”
Maeken rolled her eyes. “Ho, ho. We are a wit today.”
Trace folded his hands behind his head as he leaned back in his seat. “I try to be. Otherwise I would be totally lacking in any social graces. To answer your question, however, the Kalfethki serve this ship as a boarding party.”
“Boarding party?” she asked. “Boarding what?”
“Starwolf carriers, if we are fortunate enough to disable and capture one intact,” he explained. “We put them in self-contained armor, like Starwolves. And they can carry guns powerful enough to open Starwolf armor. If we link up with a disabled carrier, we send them in quick with most of our sentries as a secondary force.”
“And how long will they last?” Maeken inquired. “A carrier holds a crew of two thousand, as well as defensive automatons like their probes.”
Trace shrugged, unconcerned. “The carrier’s crew will be scattered and disorganized, with wounded and young to protect. And their best fighters, their pilots, will be gone. Against that, I have two thousand Kalfethki warriors, as well as five thousand sentries. And given time, I can also bring in the troop transports.”
“Two thousand Kalfethki?” Maeken demanded. “That isn’t a boarding party, that’s an army! And what do you do if those fanatical dragons decide that your fancy fortress is a present from their great demon-god Harraught?”
“Simple enough,” Trace said, always pleased with his ingenuity. “Dead Kalfethki are very easy to control. They are all housed together — alone — in their own section of the ship. Their armor and weapons are sealed under lock in another section. And the computer watches them constantly. If they do get out of hand, we seal off that section and vent their air. Even Starwolves have to breathe.”
“Not quite,” she pointed out. “They can take ten to fifteen minutes of full vacuum.”
“True, but we are not talking about Starwolves. Kalfethki are amazingly tough, but space vacuum rips up their lungs and kills them in seconds. I know. I had it tested.”
Maeken tried to betray her surprise at that. Union High Command, of which she was a part, privately subscribed to the belief that all life except their own was of no real worth except in service of the Union. She could not accept that herself, but she had learned to pretend.
“Take over, Kea,” Trace said suddenly, rising. “I will be in my cabin.”
With that he was gone, marching from the bridge with a long-legged stride that she would have to run to match. Maeken watched with mild interest. She was sure that, when they had first met, he had still been moving cautiously, even painfully, favoring his reconstructed back. Now he moved with such quickness and grace that he might have never sustained such injuries. Thoughts of revenge were proving to be a strong cure.
Maeken had no sooner situated herself in the oversized seat than she saw Skerri returning quietly to the central bridge. She knew his type well enough, ambitious but not quite smart enough to make his own opportunities, and she knew just how to use him to best advantage. Just now there were two Captains on the bridge, and Skerri wanted to be sure that he was good friends with both. He was kept so busy that he was in danger of falling off his fence.
“Two thousand Kalfethki?” she muttered, as if to herself. That was bait to get the game rolling, and Skerri leaped at it.
“With friends like these, who needs enemies?” he asked jokingly. “I take it that you do not care for the idea?”
“No, but Commander Trace is already aware of that,” she answered, always careful that she never said anything that could be quoted against her. “Perhaps I should have asked to go for a ride before I agreed to accept command of this ship. It seems I find something I should have already known every time I look.”
“True,” Skerri agreed. “But at least you have a choice.”
Maeken glanced at him inquiringly. “You did not?”
“Me?” Skerri asked incredulously, “I’m not Union High Command. Like everyone else, I was assigned.”
“I see,” Maeken commented politely. Then she leaned closer and continued in a soft voice. “What happened to him, anyway? Did Velmeran really shoot him in the back?”
“You had better believe it!” the first mate declared. “That was during the raid on Vannkarn, of course. Trace knew what they were after and went running to stop it, then ran in the other direction when he realized his mistake. You do know of Velnieran?”
“Who doesn’t? He led a two-carrier raid in our sector not six months ago and didn’t leave a ship in the sky. So he expects to fight Velmeran again?”
Skerri frowned. “We are going outside the Rane Sector and Velmeran’s usual hunting grounds, so we are not likely to meet up with him first time. But you can bet that he is going to come running when he learns of this ship. Trace is counting on it.”
“Can we beat him?”
“Well, we have a good chance. A Fortress and a Starwolf carrier are supposed to be evenly matched, so it depends upon whether you and Trace can outmaneuver him,” Skerri said, and looked at her. “They say that you have fought Starwolves before and won. Can you do it again?”
“That depends, I suppose,” Maeken said with exaggerated casualness. “I have never fought Velmeran before, so I cannot say.”
“How did you do it before?”
“Trade secret,” Maeken said with irritating finality. “I will tell you one secret, however. If you want to advance, you have to collect as many command secrets as you can and hoard them jealously. Have you heard the saying that there must be a secret to doing that?”
“Yes.”
“Well, there is. A fair number of secrets, and you need to collect as many as you possibly can.”
“I see,” Skerri replied seriously, believing every word of it. “But how do I go about getting these secrets?”
“Oh, you get secrets from those who have them,” she explained officiously. “Your superior officers have the secrets you want, of course. Be loyal and helpful, and you will be rewarded with a secret or two. Also, secrets can be bought with other secrets. But you have to know the difference between real secrets and gossip. Gossip is fool’s gold; it sounds good to other fools, but it has no value to those who know better.”
“I see,” Skerri said thoughtfully. “How do I learn any secrets?”
“You already have,” Maeken assured him. “I just told you the most important secret of all.”
“Yes, I see what you mean,” Skerri agreed with growing enthusiasm. “Thank you, Captain!”
The first mate hurried off, leaving Maeken to bite her tongue to keep from laughing aloud. But her purpose was accomplished; she had certainly impressed him and won his admiration and loyalty, and he would prove to be a mine of useful information.
“So I ask you, was there ever a ship’s Captain smarter than me?” she inquired aloud.
“Not in my experience,” a mechanical voice replied promptly.
Maeken glanced up impatiently. “Who asked you?”
“You did, of course,” the ship responded in a voice that seemed to hold a note of self-satisfaction. Maeken was wise enough to avoid responding. Controlling people was an easy matter, but a computer was something altogether new. How did one apply psychology to a machine?
Velmeran stirred, waking suddenly but gently. He opened his eyes but saw nothing,
for the cabin was completely dark. But other senses told him that he was not alone. Consherra lay wrapped in his arms, her warm body pressed tightly against his own, while he lay in her comforting embrace. Although he could not see her, her face was so close to his own that their small noses touched. He snuggled even closer against her, feeling very comfortable and secure.
When Consherra did not respond, he began to suspect that she slept as well. That surprised him at first, until he considered how worn she must have been from worrying for him… and from that first-rate fit she had pitched. He ran his lower hand gently over the firm muscles of her double shoulders, down the bony inward curve of her back and the softness of her rump, then nuzzled her gently and kissed her in the darkness. She stirred, then tightened her own embrace, returning his kiss while running one of her own hands down the tight muscles of his hip and upper thigh.
“Sherry?” Velmeran asked, almost cautiously.
She laughed. “Who did you expect?”
“I am never certain anymore,” he teased.
Even though they could not see a thing, Velmeran was sure that Consherra was glaring at him. The long moment of silence that followed was certainly ominous. But, in truth, she was really just amazed at him for saying such a thing.
“Oh, ho! Our good pack leader thinks that he is funny!” she exclaimed in mock sarcasm. “I suppose that you have been making comparisons between me and your duty mates.”
“Of course.”
“Indeed? And what have you determined?”
“That you are the only one who can make me happy,” he said with that peculiar innocence he possessed, assuring her that he made a statement of fact of what would have been simple flattery from anyone else. She nestled closer against him, touched by his sincerity.
“Well, you have better luck with your duty mates,” she said as casually as she could. “I have been wondering why we have no child of our own.”
“I was not aware that you desired a child,” Velmeran said simply. Female Kelvessan found it nearly impossible to conceive if they did not desire it. They could, in essence, practice contraception by force of will. If Consherra was not pregnant after two years, it was only natural to assume that she preferred matters that way.
“For a long time I did not,” she answered.
“Then what is the problem?” he asked with frustrating simplicity.
“I just wanted to know if you desired a child. A child that would be your own as much as mine, different from your duty matings. And so your decision as well.”
“So? Do you recall the first time you took me to bed two years ago? I knew then that little wolflings could come of it.”
“Does that mean yes?”
“If that is what you want,” he said, and laughed at himself. “I really do know better than to say ‘I want what you want.’ But sometimes that is a valid answer, like right now.”
“The prospect does not frighten you?” she asked skeptically.
Velmeran laughed again. “You know me well! Of course it frightens me, with my talent for worrying. I worry about the ones that are not even supposed to be mine. Still, the one thing that does frighten me most…”
“Yes?”
“That I might turn out to be the type of nagging, overprotective parent my mother is.”
Consherra laughed, aware that she was being teased. Velmeran jested about the things that were important to him. She thought that he was privately delighted with the prospect of a child that he could call his own, much to her relief. She pulled the heavy blanket tight about them. Shipboard temperatures were low, uncomfortable by human standards. And the Kelvessan themselves found it a bit chilly when their powerful metabolisms were running low.
“Now?” she asked uncertainly. “I know that it might not be the right time… “
“No, there is no better time than now,” Velmeran insisted with sudden urgency. She had reminded him of his own predictions, and especially the part that he had not told her. He knew his duty, that he needed to sire as many little ones as he could in case he did not return. And he wanted to have at least one child by his chosen mate, the child he thought would be most like himself.
“You! Come with me!”
Consherra glanced up from her console, startled, as Dyenlerra ascended the steps to the upper bridge. Consherra knew trouble when she saw it, but she could not imagine what this could be about. Dyenlerra was politically neutral as far as the management of this ship was concerned, and Consherra was herself the only serious troublemaker among the senior officers. Mystified, she hastened to follow.
“Well, what brings you into my domain?” Mayelna asked, equally mystified, as she glanced up from her own console.
“Business, of course,” the medic replied promptly. Then she turned to Valthyrra, who had folded her boom to rotate her camera pod around into the upper bridge. “I recall hearing some time ago that you were in need of a visit to an airdock for overhaul. Is that true?”
“Ah well. So it is,” the ship admitted regretfully. “I have been planning to make the arrangements soon.”
“Make them now, immediately,” Dyenlerra ‘ordered sharply. “Consider that a medical order, if you prefer.”
“Indeed?” Valthyrra said, at a complete loss. “Since when has my health become a matter for your concern? It is usually Tresha’s province as chief engineer to bore me with the details of my decline.”
“I am not concerned with your health, you pretentious pile of scrap metal!” Dyenlerra snapped. “I am thinking of Velmeran. He is about to blow a gasket under the stress of his demands. Those months in airdock will give him the freedom to rest.”
“Is it that bad?” Mayelna asked.
“Commander, Kelvessan are not easily knocked out of their orbits by anything, but it can happen,” the medic explained. “Velmeran is under tremendous pressure, dealing with the responsibilities of command as well as trying to make some sense of his new talents. He is also his own worst enemy, as seriously as he takes his responsibilities, both assumed and real.”
“Yes, of course,” Mayelna agreed. “I have always thought that he takes too much upon himself, but we are fortunate that he does.”
“Well, it is not at all fortunate for him,” Dyenlerra declared, and frowned at her own thoughts. “This accident gave me a chance to run a final series of tests on our good Commander-designate, and I was able to confirm something that I have suspected. You see, our race has been in existence for quite some time now, and it is about time for something to happen. Our genes might be protected against deterioration and random mutation, but we are still subject to the forces of evolution. And, while our strongest do not often survive, the practice of taking duty mates has ensured that they do reproduce….”
“Of course!” Valthyrra exclaimed suddenly. “Of course! That is what I have been trying to remember. Deep within me are certain instinctive memories that were given to me when I was first made. One told me to wait and watch for the Dvannan Kelvessan, the High Kelvessan, who will be different from those who have come before. When Velmeran pulled his telepathic trick, something had been trying to push that memory to the front of my mind.”
Dyenlerra nodded slowly. “Of course. And you would have saved me a fair amount of trouble if you had called up that information when you were supposed to, instead of losing it in that scrap heap of data you call a memory.”
Valthyrra’s camera pod struck an indignant pose.
“Wait a moment,” Mayelna interrupted. “You mean that Velmeran…”
The medic nodded again. “Dvanna Kelvessa. He is not like you or me.”
“And just how is he supposed to be different?”
Dyenlerra shrugged. “I am not yet certain of every smallest detail, but we do know the important points. His psychic abilities are the most obvious difference. Others are more apparent, once you recognize them as racial differences. Dvannan Kelvessan are slightly taller and a good deal stronger than the old model. The indication is that they are s
marter in certain ways. And they live longer. Our life expectancy has increased from three hundred to three hundred and fifty years. I am sure that Velmeran, barring accident, will live to see three or four thousand — the Aldessan live thirty-five hundred. But his regenerative powers are such that he may be functionally immortal.”
“My Velmeran?” Consherra and Mayelna asked at the same time, and glanced at each other.
“Yes, our Velmeran,” the medic continued. “Also, early Kelvessan did not look that different from modern humans. Now we are very hard to mistake for human. The High Kelvessan, although very good-looking by our standards, are diverging even more. The elfin qualities are taking on a curious feral appearance. His eyes are larger, and his skull is elongated. Humans have their brains mostly above their eyes, and high foreheads. Our brains are retreating somewhat behind our faces, the way the Aldessan or Feldenneh are. Our brain shapes are changing: our areas are becoming more compact and efficient. I wish that I had kept Dveyella for autopsy.”
“She was Dvanna Kelvessa?” Valthyrra asked.
“Certainly. Dvanna Kelvessa have been around for nearly a hundred years now. Velmeran is just so unique that his differences cannot be overlooked. I have already positively identified five others on this ship. That oldest duty child of his certainly is. Baress is Dvanna Kelvessa, as his sister was. As well as the twins Tregloran and Ferryn. However, their mother Baressa is not.”
“Who is the fifth?” Consherra asked.
“You are, of course,” Dyenlerra said, confirming her suspicions. “The rule, with no exceptions that I have yet seen, is that High Kelvessan are natural telepaths. There are also readings on the medical scanners that cannot be denied. And, as I indicated, you can tell by sight once you know what to look for.”
“Then, if our race is beginning a transition period, how long will it take for the Dvannan Kelvessan to replace the old ones?” Mayelna asked.
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