Keth looked at her in surprise and mild confusion. "There must be someone else. I do not have that many years left, and I would prefer to spend them in the pack. Surely you can understand that."
"That is not your choice," Mayelna said. "I will not force you to be an instructor, but you will either instruct, or you will be retired. Valthyrra and I have decided, and your physical has proven us correct. You can no longer endure the stress of hard accelerations. I will not have a repetition of this previous fiasco, nor will I allow you to be a menace to the other pilots."
"Commander, that was not my fault!" Keth protested. "I saved myself when that ship turned in front of me… "
"There is nothing wrong with your reaction time, I will grant you that," Mayelna interrupted him. "But the fact remains that if you had time to find that corridor to try to poke through, then you also had time to turn. Any other pilot would have missed that ship. I have been waiting for you to retire since I put you in Velmeran's pack two years ago. If it is too much for you to admit to yourself, then you force me to decide for you."
"Commander, it is not fair!" Keth declared in anger, although he did not look up and Mayelna wondered if he might cry. The most bitter lies can be those a person tells himself.
"No, it is not fair," Mayelna agreed. "The great scheme of life seems to have no respect for a three-hundred-year career. Nature has no respect for seniority. Do you think that I do not understand what this means to you? Flying was my life, all that I ever cared about. I have not seen the inside of a fighter in the eighteen years since I came up to the bridge. Day after day I sit in that chair and watch this ship fly herself and nothing hurts me more than to see the packs go out, knowing that I will never fly again. I was young and strong the night Valthyrra called me to the bridge. But I have grown old, sitting in that chair while the packs fly without me. And I do not much like to think about it, because I feel like I have lost something that has been very important and dear to me forever. Every day that passes is a treasure lost."
She paused, rubbing her nose absently as she sat back. Then, noticing Keth staring at her, she crossed both sets of arms. "Do not get me wrong. I know that tending the bridge is very important, and I am proud to do it. The fact is, I am of more use to this ship on the bridge than in a fighter. And I quite intend to stay there another thirty years. But I will retire, when the time comes, and Velmeran is going to have to follow me up there. And yet, Great Spirit of Space help him, he will still be very, very young when that time comes, and flying is no less his life than it was mine."
Keth laughed softly. "So that is the great secret! Valthyrra would blow her breakers if she knew."
"I imagine that she knows already. I would spare him that fate, and yet I know that it has to be." Mayelna shook her head regretfully. "This is the talk that I should be having with him, if I had the courage. At least I will have an end to the problem you represent."
"I will be your instructor," Keth agreed, still reluctant. "We are, as you point out, slaves to duty. I am of more use to this ship teaching others to fly than I would be in a pack, certainly more use than I would be retired. I should be glad for the few more years that you are willing to give me. Someday I may even feel grateful."
"Just now, I am sure, you only feel that you have lost something rather than gained," she agreed. "Go move your things down to the instruction bay and start setting things in order. And, if you are smart, you will act like this was your idea as much as anyone's."
Keth smiled as he rose to leave. "Thank you, Commander."
He passed Valthyrra on the way out. She paused a moment to watch him, twisting the remote's long neck around backward, before she drifted on into the office.
Mayelna sat back in her chair, watching the machine closely.
"I take it that matters progressed smoothly," Valthyrra said.
"Very well, indeed," Mayelna said. "Your timing seems to be as accurate as always."
"No, my timing seems to be rather off of late," Valthyrra said, refusing to be teased. "Are you so spiteful that you are actually encouraging Velmeran to join this special tactics team?"
"Velmeran thought that you were trying to get rid of him, arranging for him to go with Dveyella."
"Why would I want to get rid of him?"
"Because he is too young to suddenly be so popular, and he is causing dissension among the older pilots. I just wanted to show him that you have no such plan. If you had a mouth, it would have been gaping."
"Then I quite forgive you," Valthyrra said contritely. "You know, he might have been right… about the older pilots. But they gave a very bad showing of themselves, and they have only themselves to blame."
"Just in time for Velmeran to move ahead through the gap of their own incompetence?" Mayelna asked. "Either your timing is very good, or you are about the luckiest ship in the heavens."
"Not so lucky, in the long run," Valthyrra said. "Velmeran is probably going to leave us. My schemes have backfired."
Mayelna raised an inquiring brow. "Are you sure of that?"
"No, not absolutely. Dveyella knows why he must stay."
"And she will give him back to you?"
"No, it is not that simple. Dveyella and Velmeran are very much in love, and they are about as well-matched a pair as I have ever seen. She is going to be making him aware of that very soon now."
9
The approach of a Starwolf carrier on a Union planet was an event similar in some respects to an all-out attack, since no one was ever certain that it was not. The big ships would suddenly drop out of starflight halfway into system, hurtling vast and silent into an orbit of their own choosing with no regard for shipping lanes or frantic station controllers. As a rule they maintained com silence unless they had instructions of their own to impart, although they revealed themselves fully to scanners — mostly to insure that all traffic would get out of their way — looming like a mountain on screen.
For the Starwolves, this was a venture into enemy territory, and all this bluff was to insure that they would be left well alone. Their reputation was their strongest defensive weapon, and they guarded it carefully. Freighters scattered in their paths, while ships at station all but shook in their moorings. Union warships discreetly withdrew like predators chased away from their kill by something they did not dare fight. The Union had curious loopholes in its laws to excuse the transgressions of Starwolves, who did not legally exist and so could not be held accountable for breaking laws. It was an uneasy truce at best, and one the Union hated with a passion. But at least they kept their stations.
The fact that Vinthra was sector capital only made the situation all the more dangerous. Sector capitals were the true inner worlds of the Union; they were the Union, in a very real sense, the bare handful of planets that decided policy for their vast economic empire. There was, at any time, a fleet ready in this system large and strong enough to stand against a Starwolf carrier. Not that they could hope to defeat one of the big ships, but they could drive one away. But the inner worlds were also the homes of the Commanders who would decide if they would fight, and they did not want such destruction brought down upon their own worlds and stations.
Nor was such a world a place for port leave. Starwolves were welcome in the fringe worlds; the black fighters chased away the invasion forces and broke the trade monopolies that could drain a planet dry. But the populations of the inner worlds lived well on the profits of their trade monopolies. Understandably, they did not appreciate Starwolf interference with what they considered their just reward. But the Starwolves did not have to fear greatly, as long as they were cautious. Unioners were generally prudent, and they knew that their unwelcome visitors would level a port, not in vengeance but in stern warning, if any of their number came to harm.
All in all, it was a dangerous and fairly ridiculous situation that neither side liked. The Union did not want wolf carriers in its system, but there was no alternative but to endure it. The Starwolves would have preferred to avoid th
e inner worlds, but they had to come to the sector capitals to sell their 'salvage'.
It was not a good place for a young crewmember to take his first port leave. And Velmeran had no desire to take a pack of seven young pilots into the glorified cavern of port Vannkarn. Kanis would have been a better choice, since no one could have gotten into trouble in a place like that. He doubted that any of his students had the discretion to avoid trouble, or even the experience to recognize real trouble if they saw it. And with two-thirds of the ship's crew restricted to ship, they could be too deep in the avenues of Vannkarn for help to find them if they needed it.
His one assurance was that they were armored and armed, as dangerous as a Kandian spark dragon and as hard to kill as a Selvan land crab. So he reflected as Dveyella sealed the last opening of his new armor and, much to his relief, opened the front plate to turn on the cooling. He noticed Dveyella staring at the cover plate as she closed it, and he bent his head forward to look.
"Blast scoring," he muttered in disgust. "Am I to be sent out looking dented and disheveled?"
"It gives you the mean and seasoned look of an old warrior," Dveyella told him. "Would you rather wear your old armor?"
"No. But they could have at least put on a new cover plate when they changed out the controls."
Looking at himself in the mirror, he had to admit, when he considered the effect as objectively as possible, that the Starwolf image was mostly the armor, there was certainly nothing threatening about the person inside. Humans were smaller than they had been when they had first come into space, fifty thousand years before. But Kelvessan were smaller still, averaging little more than a meter and a third, yet, in full armor, they assumed dangerous proportions, tall, powerful and menacing. Male or female, young or old, Kelvessan all looked about the same; partly elfin in appearance, partly innocent waif, anything but threatening. Cute, in a word, and eternally adolescent.
"Ready to rally the troops?" Dveyella asked.
"Gather the children for our little outing, you mean," Velmeran said in mild disgust. "Come along, students. Today we learn what it is like to enter enemy territory under the ruse of port leave, putting our necks on the line in the name of having a good time."
Velmeran fell silent as the door of his room snapped open. The younger members of his pack, who had been ready for some time, had gathered in the common room that joined their suite of apartments. They all looked up at him in surprise and some guilt, the only sound that of seven mouths snapping shut. He assumed that they had been discussing ways to evade their guardians or spend their bonuses in ways they should not. It did not occur to him that they had been speculating on why their pack leader had needed Dveyella's help in getting into his armor, or how forward she would have to be before he realized that he was being courted. And, like everyone else, they wondered whether or not he would go away with her.
"Port leave is supposed to be a time of leisure, of setting aside the dangers of flying with the packs and forgetting fear for a few hours," he began immediately. "Unfortunately, if you go into a place like Vannkarn with such an attitude, you are going to be surprised. Remember that you are above the law so long as you act defensively. Remember also that there are also a number of people in a port this size who might attack you for no apparent reason, who can suddenly turn violent at the sight of Starwolves. Religious fanatics, of a wide variety, who consider us abominations. Some think they have to prove themselves superior to us, bullies who have had some type of martial training and are under the mistaken impression that they are stronger and faster than you are. Others lack the courage to face you and will simply try to shoot you in the back when you are not looking."
"Once in a port like this, a young man thought he knew exactly the right blow to break my neck above the collar of my suit," Dveyella added. "He lived just long enough to realize his mistake."
The students swallowed, wide-eyed with apprehension, as they wondered what she had done to the unfortunate attacker. Especially when they saw that Baress, standing by the outer door, looked sobered by the memory.
"You have checked your guns?" Velmeran asked, and the younger pilots nodded. They had received their belt guns only hours before, and had practiced on scrap metal targets in the holding bay that morning. It had been very little practice, but their native proficiency was adequate to the task.
"Cargo Officer Veyndayk will be waiting for us," Velmeran continued. "Now come the general rules of port leave. Do not buy or sell anything before you have compared prices. Do not order anything off a menu unless you know what it is, since you probably will not like it. Stay away from even the mildest of alcoholic drinks, since they will send you into hypermetabolism. You are free to flirt with humans but be careful with them, since you can hurt them — even kill — without meaning to.
"Ignore those who want favors of you, or seem too fascinated with you. Do not buy from anyone who talks too fast and do not give to beggars or charity; you are too easily taken advantage of. Do not brag, or tell anyone a thing about this ship or our business. Neither a borrower nor a lender be, for loan oft loses both itself and friend. This above all: to thine own self be true."
Dveyella looked at him in surprise. "Shakespeare?"
Velmeran shrugged. "He was always full of advice. Oh, yes. Treg, I know your passion for furry things. Look all you want in port, but by no means are you to bring an animal back to this ship."
Tregloran appeared to wilt inside his armor. "Why?"
"Two reasons. First, Valthyrra would pitch a fit. Secondly, there are very few animals that could survive the accelerations, and many would not be able to take the cold."
The trip down was the easiest part. The pack members were expected to fly themselves down, so that the black fighters would be very much in evidence. Baressa's pack, the only other one that had been granted port leave, was already down when they arrived. Autumn had come to Vinthra. The sun was bright although there was still a bit of a chill to the late morning air, which was to say that it was pleasant by Kelvessan standards. That would not be the case in the enclosed environment of the city, and they would be dependent upon their suits for comfort as well as protection. They quickly converted their armor into the proper costume, belting on their guns and wearing short black capes attached to metal collars that fastened to clips on their shoulders that ordinarily held the restraining straps of their seats.
The actual city of Vannkarn lay underground. At some time in Vinthra's distant past, an immense pocket of magma had formed beneath the surface only to drain away, leaving a single chamber of immense size, a vast oval twenty kilometers long by twelve wide. Such things ordinarily did not last long, but were soon closed by slips and breaks in the surrounding rock. But this one had endured millions of years, as time and erosion stripped away the rock overhead. Finally, after the planet had long been colonized, an oval section in the roof where it was thinnest had broken and collapsed, revealing the vast underground chamber.
In those days the Union and the Starwolves had been in open war, and the black fighters had continually penetrated planetary defenses to strike at stations, factories and military bases. The sector command had been removed to the bottom of the cavern. The opening in the roof had been enclosed by a grid supporting translucent panels that served as a base for the powerful force screen projected into it, making it nearly impervious even to the powerful cannons of the Starwolf carriers. Its only entrances were the trams and freight lifts connecting it to the port.
Later, when the threat of war eased, the underground base had been slowly converted into the seat of government for the Rane Sector. Then the Trade Company had moved in as well, and a city grew to fill the floor of the rocky chamber. And yet Vannkarn was not some dark cavern, but a jeweled city built by the wealth of many worlds. Here it was eternal spring, and while it never rained, brooks tumbled over falls and splashed along sculptured beds.
Vannkarn was a monument that the Union had built in honor of itself, a tribute to its schemes and
grand designs and a celebration of its systematic rape of the fringe worlds under its control. It was the last place in all the Union where Starwolves were welcome, where their very presence was regarded with almost a sense of blasphemy. And, naturally, it was the inner world which the Starwolves frequented most. Sporting in the very lair of their enemy, their presence was a gesture of defiance and a most unsubtle reminder, in the celebration of its own glory and power, that the Union did not always have its own way.
The Starwolves made their way across the landing field to the port terminal where they meant to find a tram to take them down into the city. They entered through the commercial registry, where ship's crewmembers could pass through customs and inspection apart from the confusion of the passenger area. A Class D freighter, just small enough to land, had recently come down, and a handful of her crew was waiting patiently while a rather young and frail-looking duty officer ran their idents through computer check.
The Starwolves had no intention of joining the others in line. They pushed past to let themselves through the turngate, and the duty officer rather pointedly ignored them. But that lack of attention was by no means mutual, for the younger Kelvessan stared in cautious amazement, even fear. This was their first port leave, and none of them had been to the vast carrier facilities at Home Base. And so this was their first glimpse of an actual, living human. They each reacted in his or her own way. To some, men were the legendary creatures of whom Starwolves were only advanced counterfeits. Others saw only the ancient enemy of their race. Such was obviously the case with Tregloran, who stopped short and reached for his gun. Velmeran gave him an impatient shove to send him on through the gate.
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