face Laroose. “I would have been here sooner, but the station is on full alert and the system fleet has been mobilized. You promised when you ordered these things that you would discover the cause and report back.”
“Oh, my word!” Laroose exclaimed. “When Velmeran turned and ran yelling who-knows-what, I just assumed that he had some premonition of immediate danger. Where can I find a com to Station Control?”
“On that desk,” Valthyrra said, indicating with her camera pod the desk beside the outer door.
Trying his best not to look contrite under the stares of the others, Laroose walked over to the desk and sat down, studying the com unit for a moment before pressing a button. “Station Control? Commander Laroose here.”
“Yes, Commander,” the eager reply came. “What is wrong?”
“Wrong? Nothing is wrong!” he declared. “Issue this report. Commander Velmeran and First Mate Consherra, the Methryn’s helm, now have a young daughter by the name of Keflyn.”
“Glad to hear it, but why did that require the mobilization of the system fleet?”
“Why, to celebrate!”
Taking advantage of his mistake, Laroose ordered the fleet to pass in honor formation, firing their cannons in salute while packs of fighters executed fantastic maneuvers. Then the station, clearly visible in the night sky of the world below, flashed its bright exterior lights for a full rotation of the planet so that the entire population of Alkayja could observe the spectacle. If Velmeran and Consherra considered that a little much for such a common occurrence, they soon learned that it was indeed a cause for celebration as thousands gathered outside the Methryn’s refitting bay and millions more throughout the Republic sent messages of congratulations and various small gifts during the next week. All in praise of the smallest Starwolf in the fleet.
Velmeran paused at the entrance of the bridge. In spite of the fact that his office and cabin were immediately behind the bridge, he had honored Consherra’s and Valthyrra’s entreaties to stay away until the repairs were complete. Now he returned for the first time since he had spoken with Valthyrra there after his return from the Challenger. At first glance he could tell no difference, except that everything looked shiny new for the first time in nearly a century. A second glance merely confirmed the first.
“Well, what do you think?” Valthyrra asked anxiously, hovering at the limit of her boom.
“You look beautiful,” he told her honestly. “But you made such a big deal of your reconstruction, you led me to expect major changes.”
“Ah, but there are major changes beneath the surface,” she insisted. “Come over and take a look at this.”
Velmeran strolled slowly through the bridge, approaching from the right wing. He paused briefly to admire the clean, bright fabric of the seats and the adjustment mechanisms beneath the frames that were bright silver rather than dark with accumulations of dark oil. The floor and consoles lacked the numerous scratches and dents from objects dropped or shifted during high-G accelerations. As he came nearer, he saw that Valthyrra’s camera pod and boom had never looked so neat and clean. The servos, designed to hold the long boom steady through accelerations as high as several hundred G’s, no longer hummed noticeably when she moved.
“Is that a new boom?” he asked.
“Actually, nearly everything you see is new,” Valthyrra said. “Everything in the middle and upper bridge is completely new. The helm console is a third again as large to accommodate the jump-drive controls and a fully independent navigational computer. One person at the helm can now start the generators and power up the shields, run the ship on any of the four drives, and direct the cannons by computer control.”
“You are now the fastest ship in known space,” Velmeran observed. “How do you feel?”
“Very much the same as always, although I will not be able to tell anything until I get out and run under my power. But I do feel very new. Very young, you might say. I had forgotten how it feels to have all your systems working perfectly and without complaint. I felt very strange when we powered up the jump drive yesterday, like a balloon at the end of a string.”
Velmeran laughed. “You make one very big balloon. Are you worried about testing the jump drive?”
“A little, I have to admit. I cannot forget the story of Quendari Valcyr and how she jumped, never to return. But we will not let that happen.”
She watched quietly as Velmeran ascended the steps to the middle bridge and took the seat at the helm station to inspect the new controls. The actual jump-drive controls occupied a fairly small section of the right-hand side console, as well as a lockout shift lever among the manual controls.
“Would you like to try out your own station?” Valthyrra asked.
“Have they changed it greatly?” he asked, and she moved her camera pod in a negative gesture. “Then it can wait.”
“I thought that you might like to try it on for size,” she suggested, then glanced away as she recalled a painful association. Mayelna had used those very words when she had surrendered her station to him during the attack on the Challenger.
Velmeran reached up and laid one hand gently on one side of her camera pod, a touch that she could feel only in her heart. “What I meant was that I want to wait until we are back out in space before I try out my new chair.”
“I understand. It fits you just fine, I am sure,” she agreed. “But what of you? Are you happy?”
“Yes, I am,” he replied, leaning back in the seat. “That might seem strange, after all the trouble we went through to get me here, but I am. This is my place now. My days as a pack leader seem like years ago, much more than just the six months that we have been here. I actually look forward to going back out to fight again. Union space has been very quiet since Tryalna, but that cannot last much longer. Still, things are going to be very different from how they used to be.”
“That is so,” Valthyrra agreed. “Usually very little seems different after a change in Commanders, just someone new on the upper bridge. But I feel different, and I am not referring to my parts. Another age of my life is gone, and a new one has begun. It is the first time, however, that I have been aware of that change as it happened.”
“I thought you said that you do not feel your age,” Velmeran observed.
“No, not really. I am young again, like I said,” she concurred, and her lenses unfocused slightly as she turned to her deepest memories. “I was born a fighting ship. For my first five thousand years it seemed that I always had a few dents in my nose. Then I was a pirate ship for so long. Now I am a fighting ship again.”
“Do your memories fade in time?” Velmeran asked softly.
“The sense of immediacy fades with the passing of the years, so that there is always a sense of time to my memories. But I can never forget any detail that I do not want to forget.” She paused, and her lenses took on an even more distant look. “The pain of a loss fades, but it is never completely gone. Mayelna was more like me than any who have come along in a very long time. She was a better friend than any I have ever known, and I will always miss her. And I do not want you to ever leave me. I do not think that I could bear that. I love you more than I have ever loved before.”
Velmeran smiled gently, reassuringly. “So many years. So many terrible memories of past hurts.”
“No, those hoarded memories are my dearest possession,” Valthyrra insisted. “Terrible? They are beautiful!”
