Authors: Thorarinn Gunnarsson
"Is that so? I have seen seventy-three planet years. About
seventy-eight or so standard years."
"I am sixty-seven myself," she replied.
"If I may," Commander Trace interrupted. "From what you have
said – or how you have said it – I take it that you do not consider
yourself human."
"Of course not," Velmeran said. "Why should we?"
"But if you are not human, what are you?"
"We are Kelvessan," he insisted. "Our race is of artificial
origin. But we have been around for fifty thousand years, which means that our
history is nearly as old as your own. Surely we have earned the right to
consider ourselves our own people."
"You will do as you wish, I am sure," Donalt said, still
distracted by his own thoughts. "It just never occurred to me that you
might think of yourselves as a wholly independent race with a history and
culture of your own."
"You were always the first to point out that they are not human,"
Councilor Lake reminded him. "The only thing that surprises you is finding
that they agree with you."
Trace nodded absently, although he kept his true thoughts to himself.
"Perhaps you still hold the mistaken idea that we were bred out of
human stock," Dveyella said. "But that is not so. We were generated
out of an entirely artificial reserve of genetic stock. Culturally we share a
part of the same heritage. Physiologically we are so unrelated that we can
barely share the same environment or eat the same food."
"Yes, I can see that," Trace agreed. "As you may know, legend
has it that Starwolves were created by interbreeding humans with wolfish
traits."
"No, our name refers only to our manner of attack," she explained.
"We began by calling our fighter groups 'wolf packs'; you were the ones
who gave us the name Starwolves. Besides, we are in general agreement that the
wolf was a legendary creature that never actually existed."
Councilor Lake stared at her in surprise. "Is that so?"
"It is only a theory, but a sound one," she said. "Wolves
were described throughout ancient legend and literature as possessing a wide
variety of magical traits. They were given the power of speech in every old
legend that I can recall. Shakespeare placed them firmly among all other
magical creatures. Tolkien went so far as to suggest that they were only
spirits of darkness who could not bear the light of day."
"You certainly seem knowledgeable of scholarly matters," Lake
observed, seemingly amused. "Hardly what I would expect of a
warrior."
"We all have selective total recall," she explained. "When
you have been around for a few years, you tend to accumulate an amazing volume
of facts and information. Nor have we ever been under the impression that
ignorance is necessarily a soldierly attribute."
The old Councilor nearly choked on his wine, especially when it became apparent
that the Sector Commander was unaware that he had been insulted.
Dinner and dessert were soon past and Councilor Lake retired with his guests
to the game room. The Councilor was able, with Dveyella's help, to convince
Velmeran to meet his challenge in a game of chess. The Starwolf was not at all
certain that he wanted to cross wits with the Councilor in so direct a manner,
especially since he was under the disadvantage of having no familiarity with
the game. He was no more pleased when Donalt Trace took his uncle's place at
the game table. Councilor Lake quickly recited the rules, plainly dubious that
even a Starwolf's absolute recall was up to such a challenge.
"Are you ready?" Trace asked, equally dubious.
"Yes, of course," Velmeran assured him.
"Oh? Then proceed."
"After you," Velmeran offered in return. The Sector Commander sat
in silence for a long moment as he contemplated his strategy, carefully
selecting a pawn and moving it forward in bold attack. Velmeran casually sent
out a pawn of his own, and the battle continued briskly for several moves to
come. After that the Sector Commander began to slow down, although Velmeran
continued to move pieces as if he selected them at random.
"If I may be so bold," Councilor Lake said hesitantly to Dveyella,
who sat beside him on the sofa beside the game table. He spoke slowly,
obviously embarrassed. "Since you ladies only come to port in armor, there
is no way to tell. But I have always wondered – since you have two sets
of arms – whether you also have two sets of breasts."
Dveyella sat for a moment in bemused silence, the only sound that of her
suit cycling on. Before she could reply, Trace roared aloud with laughter.
"Ah, you lecherous old fool! There are no wolfettes among the pictures in
those magazines you have taken to looking at... to refresh your memory in your
old age."
Councilor Lake swatted indignantly at the accusing finger that was waving in
his direction. "There is nothing wrong with my memory. I look at those
pictures to remind myself that I am not so old after all."
"Can a horse do this?" Velmeran asked suddenly.
"Yes, a
knight
can do that," Trace snapped.
"We have only the one set," Dveyella answered softly.
Councilor Lake only shook his head slowly. "It still amazes me, the
knowledge our ancestors must have had to build those big ships and then fill
them with Starwolves. We could not hope to duplicate either."
"We have never tried," Trace remarked without looking up. The two
Starwolves tried not to look surprised, but to them that was a dire threat. The
only thing they could not fight was themselves.
"Actually, our genetic design and engineering was accomplished by the
Aldessan of Valtrys," Dveyella said quickly, changing the subject.
Commander Trace stared at her in open amazement. "Valtrytians? Now you
speak of myths and legends."
"Not so," Velmeran insisted. "The language that we speak
among ourselves is Tresdyland, the language of the Aldessan. And our names are
of Valtrytian origin."
"Then you have seen a Valtrytian?" the Councilor asked, greatly
awed.
"No, but I have seen their ships," Velmeran replied. "There
is considerable trade between us, and they are always there to help."
That, Dveyella realized, was a slight but obvious exaggeration. But she also
believed that, whatever he was leading to, he had just made his point and these
two worthies had swallowed the bait. And the Sector Commander must have
swallowed his whole; he sat back in his chair, his arms crossed, and snorted
with derision at the young Starwolf's apparent inability to protect trade
secrets.
"So that is it. I always did wonder what you pirates did with all the
loot you do not sell back, and who maintains your technology," he said.
"But what do the Valtrytians have against us?"
Velmeran shrugged innocently. "They do not like the way you do
business."
"And what business is that of theirs?"
"The Aldessan are a very old and wise race," he explained.
"They have a strong belief in the concepts of freedom, self-determination
and the rights of the individual. Naturally they find you objectionable."
"That still does not make it any of their concern."
"Your great and glorious Union is of no concern to them. If you had
ever become a big enough nuisance to be a problem to them, then you would have
learned the meaning of real trouble. As it is, they have only provided
technical assistance to the Terran Republic in the matter of ships and
pilots."
"But there is no Terran Republic." Trace pointed out what seemed
obvious.
"We are the Terran Republic," Velmeran said.
"You? Just look at you! A band of thieves, dependent upon your petty
piracy to keep food in your bellies and your ships in space."
"We may not be Robin Hood," Velmeran replied evenly. "But you
are hardly democracy and free enterprise, whatever you pretend. We have kept
you to your own space for fifty thousand years. Enough said?"
Trace looked at him in surprise, recalling only too well how the Union had
declined, and knowing that the Starwolf spoke the truth. Then he sat back and
laughed. "Yes, we do understand each other. We know, beneath all the
rhetoric, how matters really stand."
Velmeran smiled. "At least you are an honest man."
"And you are a pert Starwolf," Trace answered. He moved a piece,
then watched closely as Velmeran moved another. He glanced up reprovingly at
his opponent. "You cannot play chess defensively, or you have lost from
the start. You have to make sacrifices."
"I know what I am doing," Velmeran replied. "I refuse to make
sacrifices. It is a wasteful, careless way to make war."
"It is only a game!" Trace replied with enough irritation to prove
that beating this Starwolf was a matter of life and death.
"You know, Don, there is some logic in that," Lake said.
"What?" Trace stared at him in disbelief. "He has yet to come
up with anything I recognize as a strategy. This game will be over in a
minute."
"No doubt," Velmeran agreed quietly.
They proceeded in silence through two more rounds of moves before Trace sent
his queen in for the kill with a decisive gesture. "Check."
Velmeran shook his head. "I think not."
He sent his king to temporary safety. Trace made the first of two moves that
would put his opponent's piece back into check. Velmeran ignored it, moving a
piece on the other side of the board. "Check."
Momentarily startled, Trace moved his king to safety. Ignoring the rook
pursuing his own king, Velmeran sent a bishop in from the other side for the
kill. "Checkmate."
"What?" Trace demanded incredulously, his consternation growing
when he realized that he had no options. "How did you do that?"
"It was just luck, I am sure," the Starwolf replied, his innocent
tone all the more mocking. "I certainly am not smart enough to have
figured that out for myself."
"You were smoke-screened," Councilor Lake said, laughing.
Commander Trace could see that he had been tricked, but he still refused to
believe that a Starwolf could defeat him outright. The second time Velmeran led
him through an elaborate pretense in a game that lasted nearly half an hour,
letting him build up his confidence before moving in for a sudden and unexpected
kill. And for their third game Velmeran defeated him in only five moves, just
to prove that he could. By then Trace decided that Velmeran was a practiced
master at the game and refused to play again.
Donalt surrendered his seat to his uncle after the third game. Privately he
believed that if anyone – human – could defeat this Starwolf, it
would be Councilor Lake. But at that moment, even before the game began,
Javarns entered with a message.
"Excuse me, Commander," the servant said from a safe distance,
hardly daring to enter the room. "Your secretary is calling. It seems that
a courier has arrived from Bineck. The Station Commander has come himself and
wishes to speak with you."
"I am sure he does!" Commander Trace remarked sarcastically.
"Lie to me, more likely. Starwolf, you must have hit that place hard for
him to come himself. You were there. Special tactics, I believe you called it.
Can you give me an honest report?"
"We got what we were after and got away," Dveyella replied.
"My ship was scorched in an explosion, but that was the extent of our
damage. We did not leave much of the station, I fear. That was the diversion
that got us back out."
"So I thought," Trace said as he rose, and bowed to the
Starwolves. "Will you excuse me? This has been a... memorable
evening."
"Well, my young Starwolf, you have just met the Commander of the Rane
Sector Fleet," Lake said after his nephew was gone. "You have made a
reluctant friend, but also a bitter rival."
"A rival?" Velmeran asked, sitting comfortably back in his own
chair.
"Certainly. You have proven yourself superior to him at the chessboard,
and that was surely a terrible blow to his pride. I suspect that he will not be
satisfied until he has challenged you in real battle."
"But how could I be of any consequence to him?" Velmeran asked.
"He is a Sector Commander. I am just a Starwolf, a junior pack
leader."
Councilor Lake brushed that aside impatiently. "I may know little of
your kind, but it seems obvious to me that you are something special. If all Starwolves
are like you, then heaven help us. I only have one Don."
"You seem to place a great deal of faith in him," Velmeran
observed.
"Don is my weapon, carefully and completely trained for the sole
purpose of defeating Starwolves," Lake said with deliberate pomposity,
underscoring his own lack of enthusiasm. "Don's entire life is designed
around a single function. One day if all goes according to plan, he will fight
Starwolves and win. Or he will himself be destroyed in the attempt."
"You do not seem to be particularly concerned, whichever way it might
turn out."
The Councilor sat back in his chair, frowning in serious reflection. "I
think that I am going to tell you something that could get me shot for treason
if certain of my colleagues found out. Although you people do not realize it
you have won the war. The Union is on the decline, in terms of population,
economics, industry and technology at a rate so alarming that not one member of
the High Council can deny that our doom is at hand. The Union is so overgrown
that it will take awhile for the beast to die. And after five hundred
centuries, another ten or so is not all that long.
"Now I do not want you people taking credit, as patient as you have
been. You have been bleeding us steadily for quite some time, but you have not
been a direct threat to our survival since the days of the big battles. Now,
however, we suffer from so many ills that your actions can mean life or death
to us. And this is the time that will decide our future. If Don can turn the war
against you in his own lifetime, then there is a chance that our civilization
will get up off its deathbed and start growing again. If he fails, we will not
have a second chance."