Valthyrra’s lenses nearly popped out of her pod. “How did you know what I was thinking?”
Velmeran looked at her in mock surprise. “I thought that we had already established that.”
“Yes, but I have chips for brains… as the Commander phrases it. How can you possibly read a mechanical mind?”
“How should I know? I am a simple telepath, not the Oracle of Delphi.”
“Wait a minute!” Mayelna said, calling him back. “Who are these promising students of yours?”
“Well, Consherra is becoming fairly good at her own card game. In fact, she is nearly as good as Tregloran.”
“Tregloran?” Valthyrra asked. “Of course. He is in many ways not unlike a lesser copy of yourself.”
“I cannot comment on that,” Velmeran said, obviously reluctant to make the same comparison. “But he is a cunning little sneak; even I am not aware of all of his schemes. And on his good days he can already outfly Baress.”
Just then the Methryn threw herself into starflight. Valthyrra’s camera pod glanced around cautiously, as if checking to see if she had made the jump intact.
“Ah, it feels good to run at normal speed again,” she remarked, and turned back to Velmeran. “I know that we should not tease you for your special talents. We have already learned that we must trust you, so please keep your ears open.”
“And what happens when I am wrong?” he asked.
“There is no need to worry about that,” she assured him. “As you pointed out, you are not the Oracle of Delphi.”
Unfortunately, Velmeran did not see it that way. As he took the lift back to his own cabin, he reflected that this was why he had kept his talents secret for the past two years. Now, if he gave warning and nothing went wrong, he would seem the fool and his reputation as a leader would suffer. And if something happened when he failed to give warning, he would be held accountable for his failure… or so it seemed to him.
He was surprised to find someone waiting for him in his cabin, and even more surprised to discover that it was Baressa. He could not imagine why she would seek him out now, unless something was wrong or she needed his help.
“Hello. Have you been waiting long?” he asked hesitantly as he paused just within the door, still astonished at finding her sitting at ease in his favorite chair.
“Not long,” Baressa replied, stretching her arms. “Consherra told me to come up a few minutes ago.”
“Oh? Is there something that I can do for you?”
“Well, to put it bluntly, I want you to get me pregnant.”
That was certainly putting it bluntly! Velmeran’s first impulse was to turn and run. He could not refuse flatly; by Starwolf custom, this was his duty, not a self-indulging privilege. And he knew that he could not come up with an excuse in time to save himself. But Baressa was prepared. Consherra had taught her well what to expect, and now she closed for the kill.
“You do not seem very willing,” she remarked, unobtrusively moving to place herself between him and the door. “Do you have some objection to accepting me as a mate?”
“No, of course not,” Velmeran insisted, retreating even farther into the room. “It just seems so… impersonal and contrived.”
“Impersonal? I am going to let you mate me until I turn up pregnant. That seems very personal to me,” she declared. “Meran, you have your chosen mate, and I have mine. And, to tell you the truth, I would prefer that Baress consider this his child, since he does not know that we can never have one of our own. Just remember that I have done this before. Treg and Ferryn have no more idea of who their father is than you or I know of ours.”
“Yes, I know that,” Velmeran admitted reluctantly. “But I still find it very embarrassing.”
“Why? Because you know me?” Baressa asked.
“Yes. And because I do not want you to know that I really am not very good at this.”
Baressa shook her head in weary resignation. “Velmeran, I am not keeping score.”
Maeken Kea tried to settle herself in the Captain’s seat, which had obviously been made to accommodate the Sector Commander’s long frame. This chair was a throne of sorts, from which the Captain commanded his ship. She knew only that she felt like a little girl in this immense seat, her legs dangling and her small body almost lost between its massive arms.
Unfortunately, this chair was not her only obstacle in her command of this ship. She was at a disadvantage from the start, coming unprepared on board a ship that already had an experienced crew. So far she knew how to use the intership com and the lift, and most of the buttons on her console. A second major distraction to her effective command was that she was not certain just how much authority she possessed. In theory he was along only as an observer; that did not mean that he might later decide to start giving orders. At least her name and reputation commanded enough respect; Maeken Kea had once fought Starwolves and won. Not even Commander Trace could claim that. And on a ship designed for the sole purpose of fighting Starwolves, that meant a lot.
Actually, the crew was a surprisingly small concern. There were just over a hundred crewmembers in all, three teams of bridge officers, a medic, and a small cooking staff. That was a very sparse population indeed in twenty-five kilometers of ship, but it needed no more than that. The army of technicians and mechanists needed to keep this hulk in repair followed with their parts and equipment in the tenders.
“All primary and secondary functions are powered up and ready,” a disembodied voice announced. The voice was female, not dry and emotionless but unmistakably mechanical. “All systems are ready.”
“Very well,” Maeken replied uncertainly, ill at ease since there was nothing she could physically address. “Your destination, course, and speed are listed in your records. Have you scanned your flight information?”
“Yes, Captain. We are clear to proceed.”
“Then you may get under way when ready,” Maeken instructed. “Please inform your support convoy to follow at the prescribed distance.”
“Yes, Captain. I am beginning acceleration now.”
The beast was moving? Maeken glanced about the bridge; wondering if they were going to maintain this leisurely pace all the way into light speed. Officers were seated at their consoles on the main bridge, several steps lower than her own raised platform, watching attentively as the machine ran itself.
“We are under way and moving toward our assigned flight path,” the ship reported. “System control reports all clear. Do you have any additional orders?”
“No, that is all,” Maeken replied, hoping that she had told the beast everything it needed to know to get itself under way. “Get me Commander Trace on the com.”
“One moment.”
“Trace here,” he answered almost immediately.
“Yes, Commander, the ship informs me that we are under way,” Maeken said, leaning over the microphone in the arm of the chair. “Everything seems to be functioning perfectly.”
“Excellent! What do you think of her?”
“Ah… ask me again when I have seen if it can fight.”
Trace laughed. “Too slow for a warship? I’m afraid that the Starwolves still have us beat in that regard. If she gives you any problems, just tell her to explain herself.”
“Yes, Commander,” Maeken answered, and hoped that she did not sound too dubious in that reply. She shrugged to herself and leaned back in her oversize chair, watching numeric and graphic displays flash across the main viewscreen superimposed on the starfield that was the ship’s forward view. Most of it was beyond her present understanding.
“Computer?” she asked suddenly, remembering one important omission.
“Yes, Captain?”
“Do you have a name?”
“Yes, Captain. I have a name for my own use, as does the ship itself,” it explained. “I am Marenna Challenger.”
Maeken nodded to herself. This ship was a perfect antithesis of a Starwolf carrier. She was impressed, although not greatly. But she was hopeful. Soon they would see if the theory behind this ship was as sound as Commander Trace obviously believed. The Fortress was going out to hunt.
