“Perhaps.” Tarrel sounded uncertain. “A single carrier might be worth a thousand of our own ships, but I’m not sure that the loss of one or even two hurts them all that much. They apparently keep a second fleet of carriers in their own space. Some of those ships might be moved up to cover their regular patrols, especially if we provoked them.”
“Why didn’t they use those ships against the Dreadnought?” Lake asked.
“They were extremely reluctant to. Those carriers were in reserve to fight the Dreadnought if it came into their own space. ”
“Then you are not convinced that we can expect to have an easier time of it because of their recent losses?”
“I’m saying that we cannot count upon the Starwolf fleet being too far below strength to respond to a breaking of the truce,” she insisted. “They have more ships than we knew, although I cannot predict whether those ships will be transferred to Union space. They might still be concerned that another Dreadnought might turn up, at least in the next few years. That possibility also worries me. If we break the truce immediately and annoy the Starwolves now, are they going to be very sympathetic if we go begging for their help again soon?”
“But you know how to destroy a Dreadnought now,” he reminded her.
Tarrel shook her head firmly. “I know the general theory, but the main ingredient in that recipe is Starwolves. You first have to be able to see the damned thing, which requires technology we do not have and cannot anticipate developing any time soon. Then you have to beat it senseless and blind it by shooting off its external sensor array, which you can’t do if you can’t see it. I can write you a fairly detailed report on how they did it, but that still doesn’t mean that we can do it ourselves.”
Lake glanced at his glass, then got up to pour himself another drink. “I agree with everything you say, and I’ll do my best to present that side of the matter. But, like I say, I don’t get to vote on the matter. That privilege belongs to a small group of greedy old men who have already convinced themselves that the colonies and independent worlds have taken advantage of this situation and deserve to be punished. Were you aware that few independent worlds and fringe colonies were attacked?”
“Of course not,” she declared. “The damned monster was programmed to go after major holdings. It went first through the most developed parts of each Sector.”
“Yes, we can see that,” he told her. “But minds that already hunger to rebuild our losses by raping the outer worlds can easily convince themselves of a conspiracy. They won’t listen to you or me if we tell them something they don’t want to hear. They decide policy, and they delegate us to deal with the consequences.”
Tarrel shook her head. “Nothing surprises me any more. Would you believe that the Starwolves have their own old men to screw their lives around?”
Lake paused in pouring his drink to look at her. “They do? Why?”
“They’re afraid of the Starwolves,” she explained. “They don’t want to end the war because they’re afraid of what that many unemployed Starwolves would do.”
“Starwolves are not actively hostile,” Lake mused. “They only react to provocation. If I didn’t have Starwolves as enemies, I would trust them completely. So what do they believe so many unemployed Starwolves would do?”
“Go into business for themselves and be so good at it that mere mortals like ourselves could never compete.”
“I never would have thought of Starwolves as particularly mercantile.”
“I don’t believe that they would leave us begging, but I have recently come to think that Starwolves can do just about anything they want,” Tarrel said. “You might recall that they’ve largely financed their side of the war by stealing our ships and goods and selling it all back. That seems clever enough.”
“Damn, you’re right,” Lake agreed, and decided to pour himself an even larger drink. “You know, I wonder if I should tell the High Council all of this. The best way to convince them to extend, the truce indefinitely is for them to believe that the Republic is using the war for its own purposes.”
The Carthaginian dropped out of starflight and began an immediate scan of the system, clearing the way for the supply convoy that followed her two minutes behind. The military escort was largely a matter of tradition or old habit, a fearful response to the presence of old enemies seen and unseen, and an even deadlier enemy that might or might not return. Captain Tarrel settled back into her seat, enjoying the satisfaction that very little was likely to go wrong. Escort duty in peace time was almost like a vacation. And like all vacations, it would not last forever.
“Captain, I have detected a Starwolf carrier settled into orbit at our destination,” the surveillance officer reported.
The first excited response to that was entirely the result of old habits. In previous times, they would have warned away the convoy before it could leave starflight and then sit tight and hope that the carrier did not notice. But, under the terms of a treaty that had not yet been broken, the Starwolves were friends and allies, even a source of protection against other dangers. The members of the bridge crew calmed themselves after that first response, although the old, instinctive sense of threat and excitement remained just under the surface.
Tarrel nodded in acknowledgement. “Send the Starwolves our regards, and politely ask what ship.”
“The ship responds that she is the carrier Methryn,” the communications officer responded after a moment, sounding slightly confused. “She asks to speak directly to you.”
“Old friends indeed,” Tarrel remarked. “Bring the convoy down and direct them into orbit. And give me that channel at my own station.”
“Yes, Captain. You have your open channel.”
She settled her headset. “Valthyrra Methryn, have you plugged your first Union warship yet?”
“No, but I do keep hoping,” the carrier responded. “I see that they put you back to useful employment.”
“Then they gave you a patrol in the Rane Sector?”
“This used to be the Kerridayen’s patrol,” Valthyrra commented sadly. “Ah yes, I see that they put you to escort duty.” “What else is there to do these days? So, how is everyone?” “Doing well enough, in the sense that things are slow to change in the daily existence of Starwolves. Commander Gelrayen asks if you would like to come over for dinner. I can turn up the heat. The Starwolves are more indifferent to clothes than they used to be, and not just my own. We seem to have started an anti-fashion trend.”
“Is that a fact?”
“Of course, they always were rather indifferent to clothes. Will you be in-system very long?”
“A few days, at least.”
“Give us a call when you get everything settled into orbit.” Tarrel removed her headset and settled back into her seat, waiting out the final deceleration into orbit. Matching the convoy, they would be dropping down from threshold for the next five hours. That would give her plenty of time for reflection. She had always felt that she had unfinished business with the Kelvessan, but she had never expected that she might ever have the chance to run across the Methryn, and she did not know any of the other ships well enough for this matter. In a civilized universe that was generally not cleverly run, perhaps some things were fated after all.
Janus Tarrel felt obligated to stay on the bridge until every ship in her convoy was secured in orbit and the first freighter was taken away for unloading. Her own turn of duty ended by that time, and she put in a private call to the Methryn to arrange a time for dinner. As it happened, Starwolves were always hungry, and in this occasion the attire was semi-formal; both she and her first officer were expected. Under the circumstances, she thought that it was just as well. She could hardly imagine how young Chagin would react to dining with naked Starwolves. She was surprised enough that the offer to come abroad had been extended to anyone beyond herself. The crew of the Methryn seemed to like her well enough, but they had never been given any reason to trust her associates.
; Entirely as a sentimental impulse, she retired to her cabin, removed a large trunk from storage, and dressed herself in the white Starwolf armor that she had been given during her stay aboard the Methryn. Chagin was surprised to see her when she joined him at the Carthaginian’s small docking bay, as was every other member of the crew she passed. Because she could not tell if Valthyrra had been serious about turning up her thermostats, Tarrel had warned Chagin to dress warmly.
“Captain, that’s certainly one hell of a souvenir,” he commented with droll humor. “How does a person get one of those?”
“The hard way.”
“I almost feel under-dressed. What will the Starwolves be wearing?”
“I hesitate to guess,” she admitted.
Whether as a considerate gesture, or one of precaution, Valthyrra had sent one of her own transports to take them to the Methryn. The trip over to the carrier was short enough, since she had moved herself in to within five kilometers of the station. Commander Gelrayen and his first officer Kayendel were there to meet them, both of them dressed in their simple command uniforms of white, the first officer’s tunic trimmed with black. Chagin was obviously surprised and fascinated; like most people, he had only seen Starwolves in their armor before, and they looked so much smaller and less threatening without it. Kayendel offered him a tour of the ship, and the two first officers went their own way. They were to join Captain Tarrel and Commander Gelrayen later on the bridge.
“How is everyone?” Tarrel asked as they took the lift from the transport bay to the bridge, a relatively short ride. “I admit that I’ve worried about the Kerridayen the entire six months since the Dreadnought was destroyed.”
Gelrayen looked unhappy. “We never did find any part of Trendaessa that was still intact, and the area of the bridge was completely gone. If fact, they finally had to abandon ainy plan of rebuilding the carrier. Every machine and major system in that ship was wrecked by power discharge, and her frame was damaged. She was the last of the old ships, and her memory units lacked the protection built into a newer ship like the Methryn.” “Have your losses left you short in your patrols?”
“No, the Karvand is back out again, and that leaves only the Destaen still under repair. We have moved three of our reserve carriers into the regular patrols. We know that the Union will begin intimidating the colonies any time now, and the truce will be broken.”
“Yes, they started rearming from the first,” Tarrel agreed. “I suppose it’s no secret to you that my convoy is moving supplies into the fringe to be ready to move against the colonies any time now. The trade companies will be appropriating ownership and control of agriculture and mining. I tried to convince them to keep the truce. We can’t be certain yet that we won’t be fighting a new war with the builders of the Dreadnought any time.”
“Perhaps, but it seems very unlikely,” Gelrayen told her.
“My interior scans of the Dreadnought, and the analysis of debris we collected, indicated that it was at least a quarter of a million years old. We were able to make sense of the few transmissions it made. It seems that it would have never attacked anyone except your people. It confused you with the enemy that it was designed to destroy, for the simple chance that the level of Union technology and ship design almost exactly matched, and your physical appearance was very much the same. When it tried to talk to the Starwolf carriers early on, it was simply telling us to mind our own business.”
“Oh, fine. I’m glad to know that it was all stupid and pointless in the first place,” Tarrel complained.
“Your superiors will be pleased to hear that.”
“I believe that everyone would be much better off if they never knew,” she said, then hesitated. “There was something that I should tell you. I don’t know if it’s in the best interests of the Union to do this, but you deserve to know. The last time I was at Alkayja station, I had a little talk with Fleet Commander Asandi. He told me that the Republic fears the Starwolves and that it conspires to keep you from developing your technology or your own social identity, and that it has kept you fighting the war to give you something to do.”
Gelrayen seemed to be hiding a smile. “Valthyrra said that you seemed to be concerned about us. That was why you conspired to keep us naked. The Republic used to keep us naked as a sign of our slavery.”
“And they put you in clothes to encourage you to stop thinking about how your were different.”
“Captain, we know exactly what has been going on,” he insisted. “The fact is, we are satisfied with the way things are for now.”
“You are?”
“Captain, with the exception of certain individuals such as yourself, no one has ever been honestly concerned about our future and what might be best for us. Unfortunately, we do not yet have a future. When we were designed, the Aldessan of Valtrys gave us free will. We are not compelled to follow any order that we are given, and that insures that we can never be used for evil intent.”
“Are you certain of that?”
“Yes, very certain. At the same time, the Aldessan made a great mistake in our design. They gave us an instinct, even to the point of an actual compulsion, to help anyone that we might find in danger or distress. The Union has been our enemy for centuries. But when you were in danger, we did not hesitate to help you. That compulsion to help completely negates our free will and it leaves us slaves to our own instinct to protect.” “Then you don’t see any hope for yourselves?” she asked. “Yes, we have one hope,” he said, then paused as the doors of the lift opened. They stepped outside the lift, then waited a moment in the corridor outside. “The Kelvessan have been evolving rapidly from the first. We evolve in stages every few thousand years, very suddenly and quickly. It might take thousands of years yet, but one day we will have evolved to the point that we have complete control over our own actions and we will simply assume our right to govern of our own destiny. Until then, all we can do is wait.”
“And you are satisfied with that?” Tarrel demanded. Gelrayen considered that briefly. “Actually, yes.” Unfortunately, his answer proved that he was probably right. Perhaps because they were capable of so much already, Captain Tarrel had wanted the Starwolves to enjoy even more. She realized now that they were simply very good at being what they were designed to be. For all that she believed that they deserved the same rights and freedoms that all other races enjoyed, she could not give it to them, and they did not seem ready to demand it for themselves. But she felt more sorry for them than ever. To some degree, they really were machines, compelled to fulfil the function that they had been designed for until they finally did acquire the ability to desire more.
If she felt sad and dissatisfied, perhaps it was entirely her own fault for thinking that anything should have been different because of all that they had been through together. The truce would end soon enough, and everything would be exactly the way it had always been. The Union was still the Union, with all its faults and injustices. The Starwolves were still the Starwolves, endlessly solving everyone else’s problems over and over. Only she herself had changed, and somehow she did not feel the better for it.
Dreadnought Page 28
