“That is quite enough. This is supposed to be Baress’s child,” Velmeran reminded her.
Dyenlerra frowned. “I wish that I could understand your objection. Any other male would be delighted to be in your position.”
He shrugged hesitantly. “When… when Consherra first came to me, I made a promise — to her, I think, and certainly to myself — that I would never compare her to Dveyella or do anything to make her think that she is not my first choice.”
“And this is the simplest way to prove it?” the medic asked. “I guess that I can understand that. But have you ever thought that this is a selfish act on your part? Consherra wants you to mate, and it does not worry her. What does worry her is your refusal. She blames herself.”
“Then I have no real choice, do I?” he asked.
“That is for you to decide,” Dyenlerra told him.
Consherra herded the entire pack before her, sending them firmly and quickly into the common room that served all their cabins, sparing one hand to pull Velmeran behind her. There were, however, several others besides just the Helm and the nine pack members. Three other pack leaders were there as welclass="underline" Shayrn, Daeryn, and the redoubtable Baressa. This was clearly a council of war — perhaps even a mutiny. Just yet they were not sure which, and they were waiting for Velmeran to tell them what to do. And, if it seemed that he was still undecided on the matter, Consherra was not.
“Pack your bags!” Consherra told the younger pilots. “We are leaving here as soon as we can if we have to pack a very large dinner and depart in our fighters.”
“Wait a moment,” Baressa said firmly. “Meran, I stand with you in this. But first I want to know just what did happen out there. As I understand it, you warned Valthyrra of a trap and she ignored you?”
Velmeran shrugged helplessly. “I told her that I could predict the future. Naturally, she found that difficult to believe.”
The older pilot looked startled. “Indeed? If I may dare to ask, can you predict the future?”
“He made three predictions in a row, and they all proved true,” Consherra answered for him. “He said that we would find a Class M freighter long before it came into scanner range. He said that her crew would abandon the ship intact, and that it would explode.”
“Explode?” Daeryn asked.
Velmeran shrugged. “Once it was close enough to get a fix on the Methryn, it drove itself straight at her in the hope of getting close enough to blow itself up in her face.”
“With what?” Baressa asked. “A conversion device that large should have scanned.”
Velmeran glanced up at the others for the first time, roused from his own thoughts. “There were three conversion devices of tremendous size. Valthyrra saw them, I am sure, but simply assumed them to be the ship’s generators. Which they were.”
“But generators cannot be made to explode,” Baress protested.
“Any generator is a conversion device that can be made to explode,” Velmeran said. “Class M’s have limited sentience, apparently enough to override their safeties.”
“That is so,” Baressa agreed. “But where does that leave us? You knew what was going to happen, and Valthyrra ignored you. She is still at fault in this matter, since it could have been avoided.”
“I do not know,” Velmeran said uncertainly, once again seemingly unaware of the others as he retreated back within his own thoughts. “It might be tempting to hold Valthyrra to blame, but I cannot. Even I could not believe completely until I had proven myself.”
“That is still no excuse for her to treat her best pack leader like that,” Consherra said hotly. “Any other ship would consider herself very lucky to have Velmeran, and willing to pay him the attention he deserves.”
“It is up to Velmeran,” Baressa said, gently reminding them of who was the real leader of this group. “If he goes, then I will go with him.”
“Me, too!” Shayrn agreed enthusiastically.
“And me,” Daeryn added.
Velmeran glanced up, confused, as if suddenly aware of what was going on.
“Wait a moment!” he protested. “Who said anything about taking half the packs on this ship and going anywhere?”
“You did,” Shayrn insisted.
“I did?”
“Actually, Consherra is the only one I recall having anything to say on the subject,” Baressa said. “What do you have to say?”
“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.”