The Starwolves s-1

by Thorarinn Gunnarsson

  "Water has no compressibility," Velmeran pointed out, although hesitantly. Already he could see a way around that.

  "Atmospheric shields can be adapted to handle that," Dveyella provided the answer for him. "Compressibility is no problem when you are flying inside a column of water moving at graduated speeds. I have worked out the modifications that permit it, and the computer promises that it will work. And what works for a fighter will work for our modified transport — which we will need to carry the memory cell out of here."

  Velmeran glanced at her sharply. "This is not Bineck; you know that. Surveillance is too tight."

  She only shook her head. "We can always get down undetected through the magnetic corridor, and Vinthra's magnetism is proportionally strong enough to offset its more advanced scanners. And we will fly underwater from the core of the magnetic corridor to the sea entrance. It will take a couple of hours' travel time due to reduced speed, but it will work."

  Velmeran paused a moment to consider that. If they could just get fighters into the cavern undetected, then they could get what they wanted and be away with little trouble through the dome — by shutting down the protective shields from the inside.

  "The first thing is to prove that a fighter actually can fly underwater," he said. "We are going to need a lot of help, and a little proof can break through quite a lot of resistance."

  "Of course," Dveyella said. "What do you think I want you for?"

  "Me? You want me to test the theory?"

  "It is no theory. The computer says that you can take a fighter up to nearly four thousand kilometers per hour underwater."

  "Then I will do it," Velmeran reluctantly agreed. "But I want to see your computations."

  "Of course!" she laughed. "Come along. In spite of Councilor Lake's generosity, I am still hungry. Besides, I do not want us to be seen standing here too long."

  "You suspect that we might be under observation?"

  "Lake had quite a lot to say to us tonight, and I do not doubt that he is going to be wondering how we will react to it — whether or not we appear to believe it. And if we do, men he is smart enough to know that we will be after the memory cell sometime very soon. That is our disadvantage. He has to know what our next move will be. And if he guesses our strategy, he will know how to block it."

  "Bait?"

  "Perhaps," Dveyella agreed moughtfully. "He might be tempting us to take a chance so that he can trap us."

  "He also said that the Sector Commander will soon make his second move against us," Velmeran added. "I can believe that they have quite a few tricks up their sleeves that they are now ready to play. We will not have our own raid ready tomorrow or even next week. I think that we should wait, force them to make the next move, and see what they are up to."

  "Of course," she agreed.

  Velmeran glanced up, suddenly realizing where they were going. "Are you taking us up to the Terraces? Those places are expensive."

  Dveyella shrugged. "So what? Piracy pays well."

  They followed the northern edge of the lake halfway to the wall of the cavern, to where the rocky ceiling overhead was now beginning to slope down quickly. There they found an artificial stream that leaped and splashed along a stair-step course down a steep hillside. Walkways weaved around and along patches of forested gardens, so that here, late at night, they might well have been outside and not deep underground. There were but a very few people along those paths, as late as it was. The two Starwolves took a table in a small open-air cafe, nestled on a small platform of rock that leaned slightly out over the brook.

  "In all the worlds I have known, I think that this place is one of my most favorite, very late at night when no one is about," Dveyella said as they waited for their meal.

  "Do you often come here?" Velmeran asked.

  "I have come to Vannkam five times now," she replied absently. "The first time was nearly fifty years ago. Only thirty years past I sat on this very terrace with a boy I loved but who would not love me. He knew that I would be going away as soon as another ship needed me, and he knew that I would not leave my pack to stay with him. I had not expected that I would ever try that trick again."

  "I have been here twice before," Velmeran offered. "Since this is the Methryn's territory, we see it more than anyone."

  The waiter approached and set down their plates as quickly and discreetly as he could before retreating. Starwolves were not good for business; their presence could frighten patrons away and prevent new ones from coming. No one, of course, was going to tell them that, so they were generally served quickly and quietly in the hope that they would go away.

  "I have been thinking," Dveyella began hesitantly. "I have asked if you will fly in my pack. That is no longer possible."

  Velmeran looked up, startled. "Do you not want me?"

  "Certainly I want you," she insisted, although she would not look up at him. "But Valthyrra Methryn wants you as well, and she needs you more."

  "And what about what I want? Do I not have any choice in the matter?"

  Dveyella shook her head slowly. "Mostly people do enjoy such freedom, but those of greater ability have the greater responsibility. My own responsibilities have forced me to this decision, responsibilities to myself, to you, and to all Starwolves. I hope that you can recognize your own responsibilities and face them bravely."

  Velmeran only stared at her in disbelief. "What are you talking about? I am only a pilot… a good one, perhaps, but still just a pilot."

  "Yes, you do keep saying that. I do not know if you are afraid of the responsibilities in themselves or because they are at odds with your own desires." She paused, frowning. "Meran, I have been on half the ships in the fleet. I have met most of the Commanders and pack leaders, and I have heard enough about the rest to judge correctly. Someday soon you will command the Methryn. And if Councilor Lake spoke the truth, that this ancient war will be decided within our own lifetimes, then you and possibly you alone will win it for us.

  "Meran, do you honestly believe that I am the first person, in all these years, to find a way into this city? That is actually only the best of three effective plans that I have. Others have surely discovered some of those plans for themselves. The difference is that no one has ever decided that the time has come to try, or knew how to actually go about doing it. You know what must be done, how it should be done and, I believe, how to make certain that it is done."

  "And you will decide that for me, whether I like it or not?" Velmeran complained bitterly.

  "Yes, by that much the choice is mine," she agreed. "I tell you that there is much that you must and will do in your lifetime, but I also promise that you will not face that future alone. If you cannot come with me, then I will stay with you."

  "But… what of your own pack?"

  She shrugged, unconcerned. "What pack? Two fighters and a transport? I have told you that Threl and Marlena want to retire soon. And Baress is no longer as delighted with the business as he used to be; he is my younger brother and wished only to stay with me. And I want to stay with you."

  "Why?" Velmeran asked in the bewilderment of innocence.

  "For love, if nothing else," she replied. "I have never loved and known that it was real. And I do not believe that you would even know what love is, or you would have known this long ago."

  "But I…" Velmeran began to protest, but hesitated.

  "Do you not?"

  "Perhaps I do; I do not know. Perhaps, as you say, I do not even know what it is. I guess that I have always thought of love as a human indulgence. I have never sought love; perhaps I could have known it before, but I refused to recognize it. It frightens me, and I do not know why."

  "Why?" Dveyella asked. "We are Kelvessan, what they call Starwolves. We were made for a purpose, yes. But our lives are our own. Are you afraid to claim the rights and privileges of being a real person, afraid that you will fail? Decide now whether you are a person or a machine. But I must leave you if you decide that you are a machi
ne, for a machine can never return my love."

  Velmeran sat for a moment in silence, and Dveyella thought that she saw the beginnings of tears in his eyes. And that moved her to pity, for she had not suspected that he was indeed so lonely and afraid.

  "I still do not know if I love you," he said at last, not looking up. "But I think that I could, for it seems that my heart would break if you were to go away."

  Dveyella smiled. "Is that not love?"

  She paused and glanced up, for a Feldenneh, a balladeer, was approaching timidly while the other musicians in her group waited near the entrance of the little cafe. Canine in form and clothed only in her own thick coat of fur, she looked to be no more than a large wolf walking with unusual grace on its hind legs. She held in her arms a gelvah, half harp and half guitar, the instrument of the Feldennye street balladeer. She stopped beside their table and dipped her slender snout over the upper neck of her instrument.

  "Fair night, noble Starwolves," she said in a rich, velvety purr. "If it would please you, I have a song that I would give you."

  "It would please us greatly," Velmeran replied, reaching for a coin in his belt pouch. But the Feldenneh quickly laid a slender hand on his arm.

  "Please, it is my gift to you," she said. "The Feldennye do not forget that we come and go as we please because of you. A small gift, compared to what you give us. The people of the wolves are gracious."

  "Who is a wolf?" Velmeran teased.

  The balladeer smiled. "I have for you a very, very old song, as old as my own world. I fear that my poor translation does not do it justice."

  She nodded to her fellows and struck the opening chords, then lifted her delicate muzzle to the night and sang.

  Fair night, and darkness surrounds us softly,

  Hidden where none in the world may see.

  Here we are alone.

  This night is our own.

  Fair nights that we share joyously.

  Come love, for love is the force that binds us.

  Short is the time that we call our own.

  Though night soon must fly.

  Love will never die.

  It lives in the cherished memory of this fair night.

  The balladeer reset the tone lever of her gelvah and shifted smoothly into another song, now playing solo to the accompaniment of her fellow musicians. She turned and walked slowly away into the night as she continued to play, and the music carried clear and bright through the dark and deserted streets.

  Dveyella rose and held out a hand to her companion. "Come. I know where we can get a room for the night, one cool enough to be comfortable to us."

  "Why do we need a room?" Velmeran asked innocently.

  Dveyella smiled tenderly. "Meran, promise me that you will never completely grow up."

  They left together, silent and unnoticed, descending the curving path back toward the hotel at the port entrance. Near the top of that same passage, on a bridge overlooking a short waterfall, the balladeer paused to sing again. Her words carried through the clear, still air, echoing among the rocks of the underground stream, but still did not reach the sharp ears of the two Starwolves. For they were already gone.

  Fair night, fair night delay!

  Night is the realm of love.

  Cherish the moment that love's fortune has spared you.

  This night shall pass, and the light of dawn shall find you,

  Disturbing your dream of love.

  Beware! Beware!

  Or night shall pass,

  And dawn will find you alone.

  Vannkarn was at its best in the later hours of the morning, from the time when the shops first opened until the midday meal. Then everyone seemed to be out and about the city; men the avenues were cheerfully noisy and all the stores from the simple stalls of the port market to the elegant and expensive shops of the Terraces, were filled with eager and alert buyers. At this time even Starwolves could mingle freely with travelers, tourists and native cave dwellers and no one seemed to take much notice.

  But that morning it was too easy for Velmeran to dream of other things, after all that Dveyella had taught him the night before. It was not accurate to say that he had lost his innocence; that was a tall order for anyone, but she had put a sizable dent in it. At the very least he had learned that there was considerably more to this matter than he had thought; he had taken a mate, and now had to consider the consequences. True, his old loneliness had vanished and he felt more at peace with himself than he had in a long time. On the other hand, his cherished privacy was thoroughly and irrevocably invaded. He was frightened by the prospect that Dveyella might turn up pregnant, as unlikely as that was, and yet he was only too eager to try again.

  Unfortunately, he did not seem to have any choice in the matter. Dveyella had decided that this was what should be, and he could not say no. Which was his own shy way of admitting that he wanted it just as much. Some things simply had to be, regardless of the risk. Let others think what they will. He was happy. Worried, but happy.

  They were making their way through the crowded avenues leading to the more expensive shops of the upper Terraces when it came. Velmeran stopped suddenly and turned with abrupt swiftness. Dveyella saw the beginning of that move and interpreted it as one of alarm and in the same instant turned also, a gun in each set of hands. Two score humans nearly died of fright in the following moment, but that was all Dveyella could see.

  "What is it?" she asked softly, putting away her guns.

  "It seemed to me that I heard someone calling me," Velmeran replied uncertainly. "Someone is looking for me."

  "Who?"

  "Commander Trace, actually," he said, and shrugged at his own unwillingness to believe what he had just said.

  Before Dveyella had any opportunity to comment, Donalt Trace himself appeared as if summoned by the mention of his name, approaching from a side street not fifteen meters away. He wore dress uniform, as he had the night before; towering a head above anyone else in the crowd, he could have no more disguised his identity than the two Starwolves might have. Having seen them as they passed, he now hurried after them as they waited.

  "Val treron de altrys caldayson!" Dveyella exclaimed softly in Tresdyland before switching back to Terran. "Speak of the devil and he shall appear! But how did you do that? Telepathy of that order is a purely Aldessan trick. You are worth more than I thought."

  Velmeran had no time to reply to that, even if he had an answer. He turned to the approaching Sector Commander and bowed his head as well as his armor would allow. "Val edesson. Commander Trace."

  "Good morning to you, young Starwolf," Trace answered pleasantly. "I certainly hope that I have the pleasure of addressing Pack Leader Velmeran. I have been most of the morning looking for you."

  "Oh? Surely there are not that many Starwolves in Vannkam."

  "As a matter of fact, there were five hundred and seventy-nine at last count," the Commander said, indicating for them to proceed to a small open-air cafe just ahead. "And, if I may say with no malice intended, they all look alike to me. But there are very few in black armor, and I believe that I have learned to recognize the two of you."

  They took a corner table at the cafe, as far from the open as possible. Although feared and often hated, Starwolves in armor generated intense interest in themselves. But for a pair in black armor to be seated at the same table of a fashionable cafe with the towering figure of the Sector Commander was a sight never before seen in the long history of Vannkam. Commander Trace was apparently unconcerned about the amount of attention they drew. He ordered cold drinks, nonalcoholic, for them all. And yet, for all his urgency, he seemed at a loss to know how to begin.

  "You wanted to speak to us about something?" Velmeran prompted.

  "Actually, I wanted to finish our conversation from last night," Trace began, still hesitant. "There are some things that I would ask. The martial creed does not allow you to sit down with your enemies and talk like friends. Can you understand that?"


  "I believe so," Velmeran said.

  "I admit that I have always thought of Starwolves as just machines cut from the same mold, identical and lifeless. Interchangeable components, you might say, for sticking behind the controls of your fighters. You have challenged me to think of you as people, and now I want to know more."

  Velmeran understood only too well the Sector Commander's purpose in coming. It seemed that Donalt Trace was a wiser, more open-minded man than Velmeran had first given him credit for being. He had thought that he knew his enemy well enough, having sifted through every legend, myth and prejudice to come up with his own idea of what Starwolves should be. Confronted with reality, he accepted his error and sought to correct it. Velmeran, however, had no intention of being the source of the Sector Commander's better understanding of his enemy, especially since that knowledge would be put to defeating his own kind.

  In truth, Velmeran hardly knew what to think. The Union had always underestimated the Starwolves, much to their own detriment. Why change things now? The Union could easily battle itself to an early death. On the other hand, if Union High Command had a better understanding of its enemy, it might be a little more interested in an early surrender. Velmeran quickly decided that he had already said enough the night before.

  "Do you allow nonhumans in the military?" Velmeran asked suddenly after they had been talking casually for well over an hour.

  "What?" Trace glanced up, startled. "Nonhumans? You know the Terms of Unification. Each race is a society in itself. Members of one race have no business in the affairs of another."

  "With exceptions," Dveyella pointed out.

  "With a very few exceptions," Trace corrected her.

  "And yet several races are under Union rule," Velmeran observed.

  "That is different. We control on the governmental level, but we do not interfere on the cultural level. Damn it, Starwolf, face facts. We cannot allow hostile alien elements within our own space. The Kalfethki would drive us mad with their ritual murder and terrorism if we allowed them free travel."