'What of it?' he asked casually.
The elder Lake shrugged, as if it was an unimportant matter. 'I can guess why you wanted to talk to them again, and I approve. Did I not invite them to dinner? But it did cause a bit of talk — not quite scandal — and Rik heard of both incidents. He thought it beneath our dignity to consort with Starwolves.'
'Oh? And what business is it of his?'
'He will be the next High Councilor of this sector, and I will at least give him the courtesy of hearing his opinions before I tell him to shut up,' Lake replied. 'We're in this mess now because we spent too long pretending that our enemy didn't exist. Whether we win this war or lose, at least you and I have started something good.'
Trace glanced up at him, startled, 'Lose? How can you even doubt?'
'You may be right, but I still have hope,' Councilor Lake teased, then stopped short, suddenly aware that his nephew took this all very seriously. Donalt Trace, so thoroughly trained — perhaps too well trained — in his belief in himself, his own kind and the rightness of his cause, could not even consider the possibility of his own failure.
Or so he thought, although in truth Trace had been gnawing upon those same doubts since his final meeting with the two Starwolves hours before. He could admit to himself that Velmeran might be the better of the two. He even told himself that he could accept his defeats, so long as he could learn from them. There was room in his own mind for doubt, but it shattered his confidence entirely to hear his uncle express such doubts. He had never realized that so much of his own confidence depended upon his uncle's belief in him. Now he felt alone, empty and afraid.
Councilor Lake leaned back in his chair casually, his hands clasped behind his head. 'Nothing has changed, really. You are still the only real hope we have of defeating Ihem, or I would not divert half the profits of Farstell Trade to building your weapons. But will it be enough? Don, you have to have the right weapons to defeat them, and the best that we can give you might not be enough. That has been our failing before, as much as bad leadership. You know the weapons you need, but can we make them for you?'
'I can design weapons that you can build.'
'But you have no one to use them.'
Trace frowned. 'I need Starwolves of my own. We can build fighters to match their own for speed and performance. But there is no mechanical brain that I can put inside the thing to make it fly as well as they can. To fight Starwolves, I need Starwolves. Fighting them would be easy enough on their level. But I work under such a handicap that I have to be ten times smarter than them to come out on top.'
'Which you cannot be every day. Lord, Don, if you could capture and keep a Starwolf like Velmeran or Dveyella, I would move worlds to see that a viable race is created from their genetic stock.' The Councilor paused a moment to reflect, and shook his head sadly. 'They just have too many advantages. Velmeran might be smarter than you are and beat you at chess a thousand different ways, but he was designed for that. But I sincerely doubt that anyone can be bred for wisdom and insight. That is where I hope you will prove superior.'
'And yet young Velmeran has more than his share of both wisdom and insight,' Trace pointed out.
'Yes, what is it about that boy that is so special? He surprised even me — and I thought I knew Starwolves better than to underestimate them. There was really nothing he said or did that impressed me so much as just that tremendous sense of presence he seems to radiate. I fear, Don, that you have met your match.'
'That remains to be seen,' the Commander said coldly. 'But I do know now just who my enemy is.'
'You did not fare so well against him last night,' Lake reminded him.
'I could have done no better against a computer, and I'm told that there is a portion of every Starwolf's brain that is very much like a computer in its functions. But real life is very different from a game of chess. For one thing, some of my best pieces are not on the board but hidden under the table where he can't see them. Surprise has always been our best weapon, and I know how to use it.'
'Just as long as you remember to play the game onl your terms and not on his. Unfortunately, someone like Velmeran is very likely to play the game by your rules and still win.'
'We will see,' Trace said, rising swiftly to stand beside his chair. 'I will take a look at that decoy ship.'
'You might wait a couple of hours yet. I told them to stay clear of the area until the Methryn leaves, which should be any time now.'
Trace shrugged. 'Good enough. I have enough to do up at the station to keep me busy until they get in. I hope Rik sent me a decent ship.'
'One of his best. Medium bulk freighter, and only five years old.'
'Good! Send him my thanks.'
'All right. Stay out of trouble,' Councilor Lake called after him.
Trace smiled to himself as he paused for the door to open. Trouble was the very thing he had in mind.
The Methryn was barely an hour out of the Vinthran system when a rumor ran through her many decks like the echo of a meteor strike reverberating within her armored hull. Or, rather, a series of related rumors, and all of it surprising. Velmeran, it seemed, was going to stay. Dveyella had disbanded her own pack to stay with him — an occurrence that had caused Consherra, the normally reserved and capable second in command, to abandon her post while on duty. And, strangest of all, they had dined, by private invitation, with personages of no less import than Councilor Lake and the Sector Commander.
Valthyrra Methryn did not believe that she should be made to endure confusion or be forced to assemble what she could of the story from bits and pieces. She considered that an accounting of that evening with Councilor Lake was very much her business, and she sent a probe, the most formidable of her remotes, to Velmeran's cabin to demand, entice or beg an explanation. As it turned out, she had no need to worry. While Velmeran and Dveyella were not willing to discuss such matters with the rest of the crew, they were willing to tell her anything she wanted to know about the time they had spent with Councilor Lake and his nephew. And since they had each committed most of those two conversations to selective recall, they were able to report to the very words.
For the most part, Velmeran related the story himself, since most of the two conversations had been directed at him. He sat, together with Dveyella, in the two large chairs in his cabin. Valthyrra's probe was perched precariously atop Velmeran's desk, so that its relatively short neck could place its camera pod on a level with the others. Velmeran was not entirely pleased to have her there, since the desk was of real wood, purchased on port leave months earlier, and the probe weighed over an eighth of a ton.
The probe's camera pod looked thoughtful. 'What I wonder is if this was something Lake has been calculating for some time or if it was just spur-of-the-moment, because he was so impressed with the two of you and, as Dveyella so eloquently phrases it, well into his cups.'
'Do you suppose that he might regret what he did and warn the Sector Commander?' Dveyella asked, then paused. 'No, he cannot do that, can he?'
Valthyrra laughed. 'I do not see how he can possibly explain that he told all the Union's best secrets to Starwolves over dinner. For better or worse, he cannot change what he has done.'
'But do you think that he did tell us the truth?' Velmeran asked.
'Yes, I believe that he was completely honest with you — as far as he knew,' she answered thoughtfully. 'As I indicated before, I think that he is mistaken on a few points. But after careful thought, I believe that I now understand his motives a little better.'
'How is that?'
'Councilor Lake is interested in saving as much as he can of many things: his race, his civilization and the wealth and power of the sector families. Yes, they will fight only so far and sue for peace, making the best deal they can in the process. Dethroned emperors of worlds, they would at least live on as merchant princes.'
'Councilor Lake will not be there to negotiate that surrender,' Dveyella pointed out.
'True, but he has trained his replacement well. It is a shame that the younger Lake — Richart, I believe — could not have been there as well.' Her camera pod made some ambiguous gesture that might have been anything from a symbolic appeal to fate to a helpless shrug. 'You, Velmeran, will live to see an end to this war. Perhaps you will even win it for us.'
'What about the prophecy?' Dveyella asked suddenly.
Valthyrra's camera pod regarded her with a decidedly wide-eyed stare. 'In my experience, there is no such thing as prophecy. Just educated guesses, wild guesses and things that never come to pass.'
'And which do you suppose this to be?'
'This is the case of an educated guess,' she explained. 'We want the Vardon's memory cell in the hope that it
