“Then, if our race is beginning a transition period, how long will it take for the Dvannan Kelvessan to replace the old ones?” Mayelna asked.
“The process should proceed fairly quickly now,” Dyenlerra explained. “You see, they have the genetic advantage. A mating of the old and new always produces a child of the new variety, never one of the old or even a half-breed.”
She paused, for everyone was watching Consherra closely, for the first officer was preoccupied with feeling the shape of her skull. She found it rather unsettling to be told that she was something other than she had always believed herself to be. It made her feel very alien and alone, and she could well imagine how Velmeran was going to react to this; he felt alien and alone as it was.
“Shall I send for a mirror?” the medic asked. “Dear girl, you are not going to turn into a Faldennye.”
“Besides, what do you have to complain about?” Mayelna asked. “I feel like an obsolete model, out-of-date technology.”
“Returning to the matter of Velmeran,” Dyenlerra reminded them. “He needs our help more than ever just now. To begin with, our other telepaths need to develop their own talents. Velmeran needs Kelvessan he can relate to on his own level. Velmeran did tell me that you are the most promising psychic on this ship.”
“Yes, although a child compared to him,” Consherra admitted. “Tregloran is a better pure telepath, but he has less luck with related talents.”
“He also needs to be trained by someone who knows what they are doing, which means the Aldessan of Valtrys,” Dyenlerra continued. “If Valthyrra would be good enough to call Home Base and have them pass the word, I have no doubt that they would send someone out in a hurry to take over his training. And a few months in airdock would be the perfect time for that.”
“Unfortunately, it will have to wait a while longer,” Consherra said dourly. “There has been another prediction.”
Valthyrra’s camera pod snapped around to face her. “Now what?”
“He said that he is going to have to fight Donalt Trace again. He said that the Methryn is going to fight something that we have never seen, and Valthyrra is not going to win. He said that he will have to fight hard to save her.”
“And why does it have to be his problem?” Dyenlerra demanded.
“He said that if he does not fight it now, then it will destroy other carriers until he does,” Consherra answered. “I do not like it either. But if his foreseeing is true — and I certainly hope that no one cares to dispute it — then we have no choice.”
“I have no problem with that,” the ship replied. “I simply applied a little old-fashioned logic to the problem.”
“How is that?” Mayelna asked suspiciously.
“Well, the problem arose from the basic assumption that it is impossible to predict the future,” she explained proudly. “But I have observed that Velmeran can indeed predict the future. Therefore, Velmeran can do the impossible.”
The others stared at her in astonishment.
“There are certain inherent fallacies in your logic,” Mayelna said. “But if it makes you happy, then I am not about to argue. Consherra, when is this supposed to happen?”
“Sometime in the next two weeks. Velmeran indicated that we will be called first. Trace will catch another carrier first and thrash it soundly.”
“Wonderful,” Mayelna said sourly. “That implies that it will not even be in this sector. At least he can have as much vacation as time allows. Valthyrra Methryn, where is the nearest likely port?”
“Kanis?” she asked after a moment’s consideration. “I can be there in three days.”
“Good enough.”
For once in her career as the Commander of the Methryn, Mayelna did not try to look busy when someone entered her private office. She had always thought that she should look busy, as if to impress upon others that she really did serve a vital function on this ship. But not for Velmeran, certainly not this time.
“I am not disturbing you?” Velmeran asked apprehensively, glancing about the room as she let him in.
“No, of course not,” she insisted, directing him toward a chair before her desk. “I asked you here.”
Velmeran nodded absently as he seated himself. “I guess you heard that there is trouble.”
“Yes, Consherra told us everything you told her,” Mayelna said as she took her seat behind the desk.
“And you believe me?” he asked fearfully.
“Yes, we believe you,” she assured him. “All of us. Do you know where and when this will happen?”
“No, not with any certainty. It will be soon, and in another sector. We must go to him when he makes the first move.”
“The first move?” Mayelna asked. “Will we lose a ship to him just to learn what he is planning?”
“No, I am sure of that. He will fight Starwolves and win. But they will flee. And they will call for me. Until then, I can only wait.”
“And until he reveals his schemes, would you prefer to do your waiting on extended port leave?”
“Kanis?” he asked immediately.
“How did…?” Mayelna paused, and shook her head. “I should not have to ask. We will be there in three days. You can go down immediately, and then forget that you are a Starwolf until you are called away.”
Velmeran leaned back in his chair, his arms folded on his chest. “There are times when I wish that I could forget. But it is a very difficult thing to ignore.”
“No, not really,” Mayelna said. “Have you never pretended to be human on port leave?”
“Human?” he asked in disbelief. “How could I possibly pass myself off as human?”
“Look at this.” Mayelna pulled a photograph from a drawer of her desk and handed it to him. Velmeran recognized it as his mother only because he had been forewarned; in those days of mutant stock, it might have been a human girl of some divergent race. Her lower set of arms were obviously folded behind her back and hidden within the folds of a heavy cape, drawn around her upper shoulders. The dark color and heavy material of her clothes helped to hide any revealing shadows, while a hat disguised the fact that her ears were large, pointed, and not even in the right place. There was nothing that she could do about her immense eyes and tiny nose, but those features were not as noticeable as he thought they would be.
“When others look at Starwolves, all they ever see is the armor,” Mayelna explained. “Take away that and the second set of arms and they do not know what they are looking at.”
“Amazing,” Velmeran agreed as he handed back the photograph. “But I do not think I want to play such a game.”
Mayelna shrugged. “I was only suggesting a diversion. Once this battle is done, you will have all the rest you want. Valthyrra is taking herself into airdock for an overhaul.”
Velmeran paused a moment, and nodded slowly. “Yes, then I can rest. But Valthyrra will have no choice in the matter. After Trace is finished with her, she is going to need more than an overhaul.”
“That sounds ominous.”
“That is no prediction, but a statement of fact,” he said. “She cannot fight this thing without getting a few dents in her nose.
But I would not tell her that, since she will not refuse this fight.”
“No, I imagine not,” Mayelna agreed, and frowned. “Did Dyenlerra talk to you? About what you are?”
“Yes, she did.”
“And it does not bother you?” she asked cautiously.
“Bother me?” Velmeran asked. “It comes as something of a relief. Now I feel that I am exactly what I was supposed to be, rather than some type of freak. But I also feel very different from everyone I have ever known.”
“Not everyone,” Mayelna reminded him. “Do not forget that Consherra is like you, and she will always be with you.”