“Our mistake was in running, then?”
“Certainly. We used to tell Traders from Company ships by whether or not they ran. Traders would drop out of starflight to give us a close look at themselves, while the company ships had no choice. Then the Traders began to use a distinctive phase level.”
“Why do they not set their phase levels to fool you?” she asked.
“They still do for passenger ships, since we will not touch those. But that would not work very long, for we would go back to asking Traders to stop and identify themselves. Garkelley chose to run?”
Mersans nodded. “I was not on the bridge at the time, but I knew what was wrong when we began dodging. We must have been taking forty G’s into those turns, so I could only make progress toward the bridge between maneuvers. By the time I got there, it was over. He said that you contacted him?”
“Valthyrra did.”
“How did she know?”
“I told her,” Velmeran said. “That was my pack on your tail.”
“How did you know?”
“Trade secret,” he answered simply. “I am a pack leader and Commander-designate, and that means something. Mostly it means that I am not allowed to make mistakes.”
“That is something easier said than done,” Kella observed, then hesitated even as she turned to the airlock. “Commander, were you the one who shot us?”
“No, that was Baress, my second,” he said. “I would not have missed.”
Kella had no desire to dispute that, and hurried on into her own ship. Velmeran turned and followed the others down the docking tube, joining Mayelna and Valthyrra at the end.
“Interesting group of people,” Velmeran remarked, turning to the lift doors on the other side of the corridor.
“To say the least,” Mayelna agreed. “What did she want?”
“She wants to be certain of her charges against her Captain,” he explained. “She believes that he should have gotten on the com when he saw us coming, instead of running.”
“That goes without saying,” Valthyrra agreed.
“So I told her,” Velmeran said. “She says that she does not want the position herself. But whether she wants it or not, I have the feeling that it is hers.”
“Then we will consider that a fact,” Valthyrra remarked cryptically.
Before Velmeran could ask for an explanation, the lift doors snapped open.
“I will see you on the bridge,” she said quickly, and withdrew her presence from the automaton. The machine turned and drifted off, seeking its mounting cradle. Mayelna pulled Velmeran into the lift.
“Valthyrra is quite beside herself over something,” Mayelna began as soon as the lift was moving. “And it has something to do with you. How did you know? There was nothing to indicate that it was not a company ship.”
Velmeran shook his head slowly. “I do not know. It is not normal… “
“Since when have you worried about being a normal, ordinary Starwolf?” she asked. “You can tell me. I am, at this point, prepared to accept anything.”
“Well, there are times, more and more often lately, when I know things that I could not possibly know,” he explained hesitantly. “It used to be that I was alert to clues that no one else could find. Now there are times when I know answers when even I can see no clues.”
“You have already proven that.”
“Also, there are times that I hear the thoughts of others calling out to me,” he continued with even greater reluctance. “That is how I knew this time. It seems that I often hear thoughts of fear and desperation during a run. But this time I heard thoughts of indignation as well, that they were Traders and should be immune.”
“Telepathy?” Mayelna mused, and shrugged. “Why the hell not? We have always had the ability to sense high-energy emissions. We generally do not think about it, but it must be some form of telepathy. Must be our Aldessan heritage. They are tremendous telepaths.”
“But why should I be the first Kelvessan telepath?” Velmeran protested.
“Why indeed?” the Commander laughed. “Meran, it does not surprise me at all. I have always said that fate must have conversations with your subconscious, and now I see that it must be true. Why have you said nothing?”
“It was not the type of thing that I felt confident to talk about. Not until I gave myself away. When you are the first known telepath in the history of your race, you tend to keep it to yourself.”
“Velmeran, I am going to arrange more matings for you,” Mayelna said briskly. “It is now more important than ever to reproduce your traits.”
That suggestion was a logical one, and with considerable merit. The females of their race, at those rare times when they knew that they were likely to conceive, often arranged a mating in the hope that desired traits would be passed on to their offspring. At that time there was no Kelvessan whose genes were in greater demand than Velmeran’s. Nor was there a male more reluctant to mate.
“Consherra…,” he protested weakly.
“Consherra would be the first to agree,” Mayelna insisted. He knew that it was the truth, but he had no wish to discuss it.
“I also want you to work on developing your talents,” Mayelna continued. “Valthyrra might be able to help you with that. It will be interesting to see the extent of your talents.”
* * * *
“The object of this first exercise is simple enough,” Consherra explained as she shuffled a deck of large, stiff plastic cards between her four hands. “I will draw a card and you will determine the symbol that is pictured on it.”
“I take it that I am not shown the symbols on the cards?” Velmeran asked innocently. They were seated together on the floor of Consherra’s cabin. The Methryn’s helm was surrounded by various items that Valthyrra and Dyenlerra had helped her collect. A portable medical scanner was aimed at his back, although Consherra insisted that this was only an exercise, not a test.
“Concentrate!” Consherra ordered, drawing the first card so that he could not see it. He stared, she noticed, not at the card but at her. After an instant his expression became one of surprise.
“Where did you get these silly cards?” he asked incredulously.
She shrugged helplessly. “They are the only cards that I could find. Thrynna uses them with her first-level students — most of them have not yet learned to read. Just tell me what it is.”
“It looks like a thark bison,” he replied.
“You are not sure?”
“I have never seen a real thark bison.”
She placed that card on the floor and selected another. “And this?”
“Terrestrial horse.”
“And…”
“Quan rat.”
“Do you have any idea how you know?” Consherra asked suddenly, her hand on the card she did not draw.
“I am doing it the easy way,” he replied. “You are looking at the card for me. I see the image in your mind. In fact, you are thinking so hard that you are practically shouting at me.”
“That is what I suspected,” she remarked. “Can you guess the card before I draw it?”
“Now, that is harder,” Velmeran said, and concentrated. “Tharnlak. Flordan. Sivan. Langie. And a very large dog.”
Consherra glanced quickly at the next five cards and frowned. “Harder, you say? Because you have to probe the identity of the card itself?”
“I suppose so,” he agreed. “All I know is that it is harder.”
Consherra laid out several cards facedown, including a few that she had already used. “Find the Quan rat.”
Velmeran indicated a card but did not pick it up. Consherra looked at the card, then glanced at him. “Find the
