"The Feldennye are hardly a threat."
"And we make sure of that," the Commander said firmly. "How can you tell who will be a threat and who won't? Knowing you two, if I were to come upon a civdization of your kind, alone and untroubled, I would suspect that you would be the most peaceful, harmless souls — if you have souls — in all space. But I also know better."
"An interesting point. Although, for the likes of Feldennye and ourselves, it takes an enemy to make us fight," Velmeran said. "But returning to my original question, which you did not answer. In this sector you have the Kalfethki and two Feldennye worlds. I do not see you as one not to take advantage of a resource, and each does have something to offer."
"True enough, and I do admit it. We have been using Feldennye in clerical and highly skilled technical areas for some time now. We have no choice. Our own people can no longer do what they can. The Kalfethki are useful in some tasks, but they are also a tremendous security problem. I think that our new Shepherd sentries are much better."
"I did not find them all that dangerous," Dveyella commented.
"You did not?" Trace asked, eyeing her skeptically. "Do you think that we would do better with Kalfethki guards?"
"No, your sentries are superior to Kalfethki warriors — which, I am afraid, is not saying much. Your machines are loyal and more difficult to kill."
Trace laughed in private amusement. "I would suspect you of smoke-screening me, if I didn't know what you did to my sentries at Bineck. One, they say, was picked up and tossed down a stairwell."
Now Dveyella laughed, pointing to her contrite mate. "Ask him about that!"
Trace stared at him in amazement. "You picked that thing up yourself? My dear Starwolf, those mechanical beasts weigh over two tons!"
Velmeran shrugged. "It was not all that heavy. I thought that you had a better idea of just how strong we are."
"So I've heard." He paused for a moment, frowning at his own thoughts. "Does it never bother you, knowing that your race was made for a purpose?"
Velmeran frowned as he considered that. "Yes, we do think about it often enough. We know that we were made for a specific purpose, and that we would not exist at all except for that purpose. But I prefer to think that we were designed not for the specific purpose of flying starfighters, but for the more general function of space travel. Consider the independent traders, who have lived aboard their ships for tens of thousands of years now. They have become as much like us as nature can manage: small, strong and quick."
"And yet it seems to me that you are still as tied to your assigned task as if you had been a living machine," Trace observed. "Having been born a Starwolf aboard a Starwolf ship, you had little choice in the matter."
"Actually, very few of us are pilots."
"True, but you are a warrior and a leader. I can see that clearly enough just talking with you."
"Then, in a sense, our destinies are largely guided by our abilities and opportunities," Velmeran said. "My choices were no greater or less than your own. You are of the Lake clan, and you are the warrior of your generation. And so you were destined to be what you have become, or were shaped to be. Where then is your freedom?"
"I could have refused," Trace insisted.
"Could you? Have you ever thought about what your other choices might have been?"
"I cannot be anything but what I am," Commander Trace said, perhaps to avoid a more direct answer.
"That is also the truth for me," Velmeran said, and rose from his chair. "I am afraid that we must go now, since we both have packs waiting that must be back to the ship by noon port time."
Trace rose as well to stand towering above the two Kelvessan. "Then this must be our final farewell as friends, for if we ever meet again it will be as enemies. You are at least my equal. Time will tell which of us is the better."
"And who will that be?" Velmeran asked.
"The one who makes the fewest mistakes, of course."
"Well, what do you make of it all now?" Dveyella asked as they made their way quickly to the tram port.
"I think that Councilor Lake was telling us the truth after all," Velmeran replied absently. "Donalt Trace has something very much on his mind, something far beyond the petty mischief that Sector Commanders have always made for us. He is making plans for that last big battle. Götterdämmerung."
"What?" Dveyella asked.
"Ragnarok," he added, to her complete mystification.
He seemed to have resorted to a language that was neither human nor alien.
Dveyella would have asked for further explanation, but they were within sight of the tram platform and their packs were waiting. They had been in port less than a day, but to Velmeran it seemed like several. He wanted to collect his students and retreat to the ship before anything else could happen.
The first thing he saw was that Tregloran had ignored the warning about bringing home small, furry animals. Then he saw that this particular animal was neither alive nor real.
"Treg, what is that… that beast?" he demanded.
"Ah, Captain!" Tregloran replied jovially. "This is my wolf."
"Your what?"
"My wolf," the younger pilot replied. "An authentic replica of a real Terran red wolf, about one-tenth life-size and handmade by the nicest lady you could ever hope to meet… for a human."
"That is a fox, authentic in detail and about life-size," Dveyella said.
Tregloran returned an exaggerated look of indignation. "I have her word!"
"Let me tell you a story," Dveyella said, indicating for them to proceed up the ramp to the tram. "I read this many years ago, although I do not recall who wrote it. I am inclined to say Aesop, although I know that it was one of the Roman poets.
"It seemed that there was once a nursemaid who was having trouble with an unruly child. Finally she threatened to feed him to the wolves. A credulous wolf, passing by at that moment, overheard and sat by the door all night, waiting for a free meal that never came."
Tregloran glanced back. "Meaning?"
"Meaning that if you are a gullible wolf, do not believe everything a human tells you. Especially if it sounds like a bargain."
The Starwolves filed into a tram waiting at the bottom of the inclined shaft, the other passengers allowing them a car to themselves. The students' first port leave was drawing to an end.
"What does this do to the Councilor's theory of the decline of human intelligence?" Dveyella asked as the tram began its rapid ascent.
"Humans have always had a gift for deviousness and an ability to he shamelessly," Velmeran replied. "And we have always been uncomplicated souls, our gullibility at odds with our own intelligence. It seems that human duplicity is still as great as Kelvessan simplicity."
Tregloran, in the seat ahead, glanced back over his shoulder. "If it gives you two any peace of mind, I should tell you that I was not fooled for an instant. I know a fox when I see one."
"Then why did you buy it?" Velmeran asked.
Tregloran shrugged. "Because I like it."
12
Mayelna glanced up as a pair of freight tenders emerged from the bottom of the monitor screen. Valthyrra Methryn had more than her share of audacity, setting herself in orbit just ahead of the station and then flying backward to face it, the cannons of her main batteries open and extended. Valthyrra seemed to court trouble, and yet her record was surprisingly clear of such undesirable incidents. She knew exactly how to play the game, and Mayelna knew better than to interfere.
"That is the last of it," Valthyrra reported as she swung her boom around to the recessed area of the upper bridge. "I am securing the holding bays."
Mayelna nodded, not looking up from the readout on her main console monitor.
"The last of the packs are in," Valthyrra continued. "We have fourteen crewmembers planetside due to come up on the last two transports within the quarter hour."
Mayelna nodded again.
"Velmeran and Dveyella are on their way up to the
bridge."
Now that was news! Mayelna hit the hold button on her monitor and indicated for Valthyrra to bring her camera pod in a little closer. "Do they seem to have reached an understanding?"
Valthyrra chuckled mischievously. "That is an interesting way of putting it! Dveyella has moved her belongings into the cabin that Keth vacated a few days ago — the one adjacent to his own."
Mayelna only stared with open amazement. "Do you mean…?
"Their understanding appears to be a personal one," the ship explained. "As, I believe, I did warn you it would be. Sheesh! If I had had my wits about me, I would have planted a bug on that boy. Then we would have heard some very interesting conversations indeed."
The result of that came as a surprise to them both.
"Son of a bitch!" Consherra, seated at her station on the middle bridge, declared. She gave her console a four-fisted thump that threatened to demolish it. "Son of a bitch!"
Then, to the speechless astonishment of the entire bridge crew, she leaped from her seat and left the bridge in a cold rage.
"I must say that I do not care much for her choice of terms," Mayelna remarked in the stunned sdence that followed. "Makes it sound like I had something to do with it, and I do not like this any better than she does."
Valthyrra's pod turned to face her so sharply that the boom rattied. "What are you complaining about? You are only losing a son. I am losing the best would-be Commander this ship has ever had. When I think of how hard I worked to get that… girl on board. And if you had named him Commander-designate when I asked… "
"I wish I had! Great Spirit of Space, I wish I had!" Mayelna returned, then shook her head and sighed. "Where did I go wrong?"
"Twenty-six years ago, when you thought you were too old to get pregnant," Valthyrra offered. "Quiet, now. Here they come."
"Act natural," Mayelna warned as she bent over her monitor. Valthyrra aimed her pod upward as if she were giving the ceiling a cursory inspection, and a whistling sound came from her speakers. Mayelna silenced her with a sharp rap on the underside of her camera pod.
"I want you to meet my mother," they heard Velmeran say teasingly from the corridor outside the right wing of the bridge, speaking louder than he was aware.
"I have met your mother," Dveyella teased in return, "She is a real bitch."
Valthyrra turned her camera pod to the frowning Commander. "That would seem to make it unanimous."
Velmeran and Dveyella marched into the bridge, well pleased with themselves and each other and totally oblivious to everything that had occurred prior to their arrival. Mayelna and Valthyrra both returned to their roles of complete innocence, the ship's cameras glancing about the bridge at everything except the approaching couple. But Valthyrra's impatience quickly got the better of her; she focused on the two Starwolves as if they had materialized out of the very air.
"Ah, Meran!" she exclaimed. "Pack Leader Dveyella. Did you have a good time?"
"Excellent!" Dveyella agreed happily. Mayelna made a rude noise.
"There is something that I would like to know," Velmeran said quickly. "Have you kept any statistics on the genetic deterioration of the human race?"
"Genetic deterioration?" Valthyrra's lenses seemed almost to blink in confusion. "Actually, it is hard for me to make any valid observations, but that does not change the fact of its reality. Our own human worlds are in slow decline, and there is every indication that the Union worlds are proceeding at a much greater pace. Especially the inner worlds — it is getting so bad that if all the machines were to suddenly stop, it is doubtful that they could ever get anything running again."
"Why?" Velmeran asked.
"Because Mother Nature is a stern mistress," she explained, the information analysis, storage and retrieval systems in her warming to the task. "The one rule of all life is change, and the driving force is survival. But that is a game that modern, civilized man has not been forced to play in nearly sixty thousand years. Nature intended that only the best should thrive and multiply, but for so long now nearly everyone survives — and reproduces indiscriminately. Change continued, but in a random, ineffectual manner, and once begun the process accelerates itself.
"Which, mind you, is all theory to explain what we have been observing since before I came out of the construction bay. What the future holds is even more speculation. But if the race is protected so that these conditions go undisturbed, then the present deterioration will continue."
"Which may very well happen," Velmeran said. "Since we are likely to take over the management of the human race in the very near future."
"The Kelvessan cannot provide for the entire species," Valthyrra answered. "I have often thought, when considering the problem, that the best thing we could do for humanity is to systematically destroy its entire civdization. I have even wondered if our very purpose is self-defeating. The Union has existed for most of recorded history, and we have been a catalyst, a unifying force, acting to keep it alive. I do believe that, had it not been preoccupied fighting us, the Union would have split into its various sectors and reduced itself to smoking rubble within the first few hundred years of its existence."
Velmeran brightened, seeing the logic in that. "Of course they would have. They would even yet. And a collapse of their civilization, a return to the most primitive of conditions, would also mean a return to the old laws of survival and natural selection, and the species would rejuvenate itself."
"Then you do understand," Valthyrra said approvingly. "That is our dilemma; wreck a civilization, and possibly save a species. But I already know that it is not our place to make that decision."
"The Union itself seems to be of the opinion that there is little hope," Velmeran offered. "They believe that they are already doomed to extinction, except for a few mutant races that are no longer strictly human."
"In a sense, there is very little of the race left that is strictly human," Valthyrra said as she glanced at the main monitor. Then, realizing what he had said, she snapped her pod around to face him. "And how is it, pray tell, that you are privy to what the Union thinks on the subject?"
Velmeran shrugged indifferently. "Councilor Lake explained it to us last night over dinner."
"Councilor Lake. The Councilor Lake, who runs this sector like he owns it — which he does?" Mayelna demanded. "And how did it come to be that you had dinner with Councilor Lake?"
"He invited us," Velmeran replied. "Just the four of us, Dveyella and myself, the Councilor and his nephew Donalt, the Sector Commander. We dined on Vinthran follycrab."
"But… why?" Mayelna demanded in exasperation.
"Apparently for the sole purpose of warning us. The Union knows that it is doomed, but it seems that the High Council intends to die fighting. Councilor Lake warned us to expect war the way we used to fight it, for as long as the Union's resources hold out. He said that we can expect two new, deadly weapons that will soon be used against us."
"But why would he warn you about what must be the Union's most secret plans?" Valthyrra asked.
"Because he knows that the Union cannot win. And I believe that, for a number of reasons, he wants us to win. Most of all, he believes that we will prosper once the war is over, and we will gradually take over complete dominance of their own civilization. That way we will keep the machines running and, if the human race does face extinction, it will be a gentle, painless death."
"Their civilization is more fragile than they might believe," Valthyrra said. "The heavily populated industrial planets are wholly dependent on off-world food supplies.
An interruption of that supply would starve those worlds in a matter of only a few short weeks. Eight-or nine-tenths of the Union's entire population would be destroyed before we could do a thing to stop it."
"Lake trusts us not to strike at civilian targets," Mayelna pointed out. "According to his plan, I am sure, the Union will fight for as long as it has warships in space and then it would surrender."
Velmeran nodded. "
That just might be his plan. But that is not our immediate problem. That warning of things to come is."
Mayelna glanced up at him. "Do you have any idea of what that is about?"
"No, we would just have to wait and see." He shrugged helplessly. "Forewarned is four-armed."
Mayelna put her head in her hands and muttered a most dire obscenity. Then she lifted one hand to wave them away.
"Go away, children. All this business is simply beyond me, and I want no part of it." She glanced up at Valthyrra's camera pod accusingly. "Why did you never tell me about any of this?"
"You never asked," the ship replied simply. "We have waited a very long time for the Union to realize that it is doomed, knowing that it will begin the last phase of this war. We have known that we would have to be very careful if we are to save anything of what would otherwise be destroyed."
"But what would happen if we drew back and refused to fight?" Dveyella asked.
"The Union wid fall apart very quickly once interstellar trade begins to fail," Valthyrra explained. "Then greedy men would seize control to wring what they can of dying worlds. Faced with starvation, entire populations could erupt into uncontrollable violence… or entire populations could be put to death so that the chosen few might live. As I said, the deaths of worlds would not be measured in years or generations, but weeks or even days. Or perhaps even seconds, if they turned their own planetary defenses upon themselves."
Velmeran shook his head slowly. "You envision a very dark future indeed, but I fear that you are right."
"You should be pleased," she told him. "Your stupid little dinner party was the turning point of this entire war."
"Then, by your leave, I would contemplate the future from the safety of my own room," Velmeran said as he and Dveyella turned to leave. Then he stopped short and turned back. "I am forgetting the real reason why I came. Dveyella wants to stay with us, and we would like to know if she can fly with my pack for now."
Valthyrra's camera pod bobbed as she momentarily lost control of her voluntary functions. She glanced at the Commander, but Mayelna only stared back in speechless confusion. She turned back to the younger pilot, pausing a moment to check her breakers and relays as an excuse to gather her wits.
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