“But who would dispute the recommendations of Commander Velmeran of the Methryn?” Valthyrra inquired.
Velmeran looked annoyed. “You be discreet about how you use my name — or your own — with your sister ships or home base. Where did Consherra get to?”
“Oh, Dyenlerra appropriated her and Lenna several minutes ago,” the ship replied. “She told them to get out of their armor and report for a medical scan.”
“I think that I should join them,” he decided. “Can you call me a lift?”
“On the way. I will put away this remote and join you there.”
Velmeran returned to his cabin and removed his armor for the first time in well over a day. He dressed quickly and hurried to the medical section, where he found Consherra and Lenna occupying separate diagnostic beds in the same room. Valthyrra had commandeered another probe and had arrived with Baressa, Tregloran, and Baress just before him. They stared at him in surprise as he entered, and he could imagine why. He was now dressed in the white of an officer, clothes that Valthyrra had hurriedly prepared for him. His thick, shaggy mane of wood-brown hair tumbled over his shoulders and halfway down his back, his large eyes glittering behind the fringe of that brown curtain.
Dyenlerra afforded him only the briefest glance before turning back to the readout for Lenna’s scanner. “You seem to be well, for all I can tell. These readings mean nothing to me. I am not a veterinarian.”
“Then how do you know that I’m well?” Lenna asked as she sat up on the edge of the bed.
“Because they are the same readings I got a couple of days ago.”
“I have a very good question to propose, if this is the time,” Consherra began suddenly.
“This is not the time,” Dyenlerra insisted. “But ask, if it will shut you up long enough for me to run a scan on you.”
“What happened to the Challenger?” she asked, ignoring the medic. “My reprogramming was an obvious failure, so what did cause that ship to explode? I am sure that it blew several seconds after Valthyrra fired.”
“Oh, that was Lenna’s work,” Velmeran explained, and continued when he saw five astonished stares. “While you were playing with her programming, Lenna was running about the ship setting nuclear missiles to explode. How many did you set?”
“Six in all,” Lenna explained, blushing slightly in uncharacteristic modesty. “I set them on a ten-second delay after the ship brought up its full shield. Good thing, too. About the delay, I mean. I was still inside the shield when the Methryn fired. I guess those warheads caused a chain reaction through just about every generator on that ship.”
“But the Challenger had already shielded once,” Valthyrra pointed out.
“Yes, but I had only just started. It was a near thing, too. Half a minute more and it would have exploded in my face. Scared the… devil out of me, so it did.”
Consherra was practically speechless. “You mean that I did an hour of reprogramming for nothing, while Lenna just walked in and destroyed that monster of a ship with no trouble at all?”
Lenna glanced at her. “No trouble at all, did you say? Remind me to tell you how much trouble it was to have someone swinging a wrench at my head on the one hand while a sentry was aiming all its guns at me from behind.”
“Well, you’re a real Starwolf now, even if you have only two hands,” Velmeran said. “Which is only one less than I have. That is what I needed to talk to you about.”
Dyenlerra glanced up from her monitor. “What is it. Did you hurt yourself?”
Velmeran stepped over to her side and held up his handless lower arm for her inspection. It was the first time the others had realized that the hand was actually missing, since he had kept the glove of his suit on earlier. Tregloran made some exclamation of outrage; Consherra, who was lying on the table next to him, reacted even more sharply. Ignoring her, the medic pulled back the sleeve for a closer look.
“How did this happen?” she asked with professional detachment.
“Donalt Trace wanted it,” he explained. “The ship’s medic took it off with a laser scalpel.”
“He did? What did he want it for?”
“He wanted to make lots of little Starwolves.”
“Donalt Trace is dead, and the hand was destroyed,” Velmeran said. “Can you make me another?”
“I could, but I’m not going to. All Kelvessan can fully regenerate skin, muscle, teeth, and any organ, but my studies of mutant genetic structure indicate that you can replace missing limbs as well. This is my first chance to test this. If it does not work, well… you know that you can always come to me for a hand.”
Velmeran was spared the need to answer that when the medical scanner beeped imperiously and Dyenlerra turned to the monitor. She nodded in satisfaction. “The two of you are perfectly well.”
“I could have told you that,” Consherra remarked, then paused when she saw that Velmeran was staring at her. He bore a look of deep hurt and disappointment — even betrayal — that she had not expected.
“It is true,” she said simply, cautiously. “I am sorry, but I did not know how to tell you.”
“Well, yes,” he stammered uncertainly. “But I had just thought that when you wanted… that you and I…”
The sudden realization of what worried him was nearly enough to knock her off the table. “Dearest ass! You are the only mate that I have had in several years now. How could you possibly imagine that you are not the father?”
“But we had not planned…”
Dyenlerra laughed aloud. “This is one of the little things that may happen when two people fool around for fun. Has no one ever explained these things to you?”
Velmeran was startled by some sudden revelation. “Mayelna started to have that little talk with me just as I was about to leave. It was not the best time, and I had no idea what she was talking about.”
“So now you do,” the medic remarked. “And while we are on the subject, you owe me a duty mating.”
Velmeran began to make some evasive reply, but he was distracted by Lenna as she leaped from the bed in her excitement. “Hey, I’m a Starwolf now! How do I get in on this?”
Dyenlerra regarded her tolerantly. “We are not the same species. Velmeran cannot get you pregnant.”
“Who cares?” Lenna demanded. “I just want to screw around!”
Consherra regarded her for a moment, then took Velmeran by one hand and led him off to one side of the room, as private as they were going to get in such close quarters. “Are you pleased?”
“I could not be happier,” he assured her. “And no regrets?”
Velmeran frowned. “Only one, and we can do nothing about that.”
Consherra nodded slowly. “She knew. And I believe that she was pleased. I know that I am. He will be just like you, I am sure.”
“She,” Velmeran corrected her gently.
“She?” Consherra asked, and looked questioningly at Dyenlerra.
The medic shrugged helplessly. “She.”
“Is it really so necessary?” Dr. Wriestler asked in feeble protest in response to the request.
“Yes, it is,” Maeken Kea insisted. “You have saved his life, but it won’t be worth a damn unless I can save his career. I must speak with him before we reach port, and he has to remember what I tell him. You indicated that he is alert enough at this time.”
“Yes, he will understand and remember what you tell him,” the physician agreed reluctantly. “If you consider it absolutely necessary…”
“It is so ordered,” Maeken said with enough firmness to make him understand that she was not offering him a choice. “If you would care to go up to the galley for something to drink, I will call you when I’m finished. This will not take long.”
Wriestler recognized the implicit order that he was to make himself scarce in a hurry and withdrew. Maeken watched until he was gone before entering the room that he had been guarding bodily. The cabin was small,
