“The matter is already resolved, it seems to me,” he said. “My ability to predict has been tested and successfully proven, and I came out the hero because I happened to be right. As I see it, I have won and I have already gotten all from it that I can expect. Whether or not Valthyrra and I will ever again be on close terms is beside the point. I am Commander-designate of this ship, and here I must stay.”
Baressa shrugged. “How can I argue with that? I cannot believe that today’s mistake will be repeated. Just remember that we will always be here when you need us.”
At that signal the others withdrew as quietly as they could, the younger pilots retreating to their cabins while the pack leaders departed. Obviously the matter was not completely resolved; Velmeran now had to make his peace with Consherra before he could mend his affairs with the rest of the ship. And Consherra still had a great deal to say on the subject. Taking Velmeran firmly by the hand, she pulled him inside his own cabin and locked the door behind them.
“Meran, do you really know what you are doing?” she demanded. “I can get you on board another ship, one with greater appreciation for your talents.”
“One that would allow me to command and be meekly subservient to my every order?” he asked, seating himself on the bed as he watched Consherra pace nervously. “I cannot leave now. Valthyrra needs me.”
“Valthyrra needs to have her circuits checked!” She declared explosively. “And so do you, if you hold any false loyalty to that ancient automaton. You had no business going out there and risking your life… “
“Will you slow down and at least try to be reasonable,” Velmeran said with more firmness than he had used with her in a very long time. “I am Velmeran, and this is my decision. Not yours. Not Baressa’s. Valthyrra Methryn might have her faults, but she is still the best fighting ship with the best group of pilots in the wolf fleet. This is what I have to do.”
“Why?” Consherra insisted, only slightly daunted.
“You know well enough. I want to make an end to this war, and my battles will be fought here, with Donalt Trace. He is looking for the Methryn.”
“Well, he can just as easily look for you elsewhere,” Consherra said calmly but firmly. “And I would be just as happy if he did not find you. Why do you think he has to be your special problem?”
She paused, surprised to realize that he was sitting on the edge of his bed, crying silent, calm, lethargic tears of desperation and weariness. She realized then just how selfish her own position on this matter had been. Shamed by her own behavior, she hurried to comfort him.
“Meran, what is it?” she asked with gentle anxiety.
“What do you think it is?” he asked in return. “I am tired of it all. I am tired of having to be responsible for every move this ship makes, of being accountable for every life on board. I am tired of always having to be right and watching out for everyone else’s mistakes. I am just tired of being me, Velmeran the Magnificent. It never gives me any rest.”
“Yes, I suppose you are,” Consherra said as she sat down beside him. “There is never any rest for you. But you took this burden upon yourself.”
“Yes, I know,” he agreed, and sighed in resignation. “I never knew how easy I had it when I was still chafing against my inabilities. And yet, as difficult as it can be, at least my conscience is clear. Ability brings its own responsibility. But I am so tired. And I am afraid.”
“Why?” Consherra asked suddenly, glancing at him suspiciously. “Meran, what is wrong? Is there trouble?”
Velmeran hesitated, then nodded wearily. “Yes, terrible trouble. Sometime within the next two weeks the Methryn is going to have to fight something that we have never seen before, and she is not going to win. I will have to do everything I can to save her.”
“Meran, no!” Consherra cried, knowing that he had no choice. “Why does it always have to be you?”
“Because this is my game,” he answered. “Donalt Trace is looking for me. He is going to use his new toy to rip our carriers apart until I stop him. I have no choice.”
Consherra nodded slowly. “I know, and I will help you all that I can. What can I do?”
“Love me,” he replied simply. “Help me to forget that I am frightened and alone. That is all you can do for now.”
That was a bold request for him, and one which worried him. Always before he had needed love, even longed for it, but he had never asked for what, in his own belief, could only be given freely. But his time was short, and the future he saw frightened him. The Methryn would live, but at the price of a life. And he knew the price. Within the next two weeks he might finally be free of the burden of responsibility, for he would quite likely be dead.
4
Maeken Kea had accepted the command of the Challenger knowing that she did not particularly like the idea, but she did not have time to regret it. By the end of her first shift on the bridge, however, she knew that she both disliked and regretted it. This beast was all ship, a relatively small and superfluous crew, and two captains. No, it was not even a ship, just a mobile planetary defense system. Maeken was smart enough not to be impressed by technology for its own sake; therefore, she was not impressed. If it could fight and defeat a Starwolf carrier, then she would be impressed.
The theory behind this ship was sound, she did have to admit that. The possibility remained that it might just be able to defeat a Starwolf carrier in equal combat. But Commander Trace was after big game: he wanted Velmeran and the Methryn. And Velmeran was too smart for him, smarter even than herself, Trace, and this ship altogether. She knew that Trace meant to force a confrontation with the Methryn, and she had strong doubts about their ability to win that battle.
Marching the halls at a furious pace, Maeken turned onto a main corridor and ran straight into a monster. Since her diminutive human form was no match for this towering hulk of quasi-reptilian flesh, she promptly bounced off and fell on her rump in the middle of the floor. Startled, her first reaction was to reach for her gun. Then she recognized this massive obstruction as a Kelfethki warrior and paused. The massive saurian head cocked inquisitively, the enormous green eyes regarding her.
“Pleesh ekshuz me,” the Kalfethki hissed. He reached out with a hand that could have encircled her waist and lifted her as easily as if she were a small pet to be picked up and held.
“And you are?” Maeken demanded as he assisted her to stand. She weighed thirty-eight kilos, while the Kalfethki weighed perhaps three hundred. But authority carried its own weight, and she assumed this talking dinosaur to be part of the crew.
“Ahee am Kramthk, af dee Kalfethki foorze.” His reply was prompt enough, if unenlightening. “Eeyu air dee Kapton?”
“Of course,” she said less sharply. She did not at all like this talk of a Kalfethki force, but she thought it best to remain on good terms with a potential army of the beasts. “Are you an officer?”
“Hay schmall hwun,” Kramthk replied sociably. “Ahee vash up to dee bridgsh to schpeek weth dee Schector Kommandor.”
“Very good,” Maeken responded promptly, not at all sure what the Kalfethki had said. He stepped carefully aside, opening a passage for her to continue. But she hesitated a moment and looked up at him. “If you would, what is your duty?”
“Ahee am en interpretor,” Kramthk replied proudly, flashing a toothy grin.
Maeken only shrugged and continued on. At this point, nothing surprised her.
What was Trace thinking of, bringing a Kalfethki ‘force’ on board this ship? The Kalfethki were a saurian race, higher than true reptiles even though they laid eggs and had no fur, but lower than true mammals despite the fact that they were warm-blooded. They were immense beings, three meters tall and five from their nose to the tip of their powerful thrashing tail. But they remained dull-witted and primitive, still as much animal as intelligent being. Their warrior code and complex religion of demons and prophecies were their only vestiges of civilization, for they
