Lenna shook her head sadly. “You have to be twenty-one to get Union training, but you can’t travel off-world without parental permission until you are twenty-one. Naturally, my father wouldn’t sign. I did get flight training locally, enough to convince the Trade Association to hire me on as an apprentice for a year until the old pilot retired.”
“Surely your father’s old texts…?”
“Do you really think my father kept his books?” she asked. “I was able to get the texts for helm and navigation, and I taught myself. I know enough to get a ship from here to there. I’m certainly ready for an apprenticeship on a Trader.”
Velmeran pointedly refused to answer that, for he knew only too well what she was asking him. She thought him to be a Trader; in his rich dress and manner, perhaps a senior officer or even a Captain. She was desperate, and she hoped that he would give her what she wanted. And Velmeran felt guilty, since there was little he could do to help her.
“Treck is back in town,” someone behind him said suddenly.
Velmeran had no idea what that could mean, but Lenna obviously did. Her eyes widened and her face turned from lightly tan to chalky white. Whatever else it might mean, it was obviously a threat and intended as one.
“So what’s that to me?” Lenna demanded.
A pair of rangers, fresh from the highlands, appeared from behind Velmeran to stand at either side of the table. They were young and a matched pair of second-rate bullies, the one to his left short, stocky, and stupid, while the other, the speaker, was tall and lean. They were ragged, dirty, and fairly rank. Kelvessan had no sense of smell, but he could guess that part. But they must have something of a reputation, judging by the way the rest of the patrons were slowly retreating.
“You know the answer to that,” the tall one said, sneering. “Treck Lesries has put his name on you, and he doesn’t like for his girls to run around on him.”
“I’m not afraid of Treck Lesries,” Lenna declared.
“No, I’m sure you’re not. It’s your little friend here who’ll get his neck broke,” the tall one said, his threat now aimed at Velmeran. He put a hand on the Starwolf’s shoulder and did his best to knead the muscle painfully.
Velmeran reached up and took hold of the offending wrist, applying pressure until both bones snapped loudly. The tall ranger gasped in pain and sank to his knees, for Velmeran did not let go. “If you are Treck Lesries’s messenger, then you can take him this message. Tell him to get out of town.”
“Lesries can take care of you!” the ranger threatened, his voice sharp with pain. “He’s half Starwolf, you know.”
Velmeran laughed aloud. “Do not be a complete idiot! No one can be half Starwolf.”
“He’ll show you what he can do!” the other squealed.
Velmeran laughed again. “I have enemies that make your Treck Lesries seem like a child. Now go.”
He squeezed the wrist until the ranger screamed in agony, then gave him a shove. The stocky ranger caught him, taking him under the arms to half carry his friend, nearly faint with pain, toward the door. Velmeran watched them until they were gone, then saw that Lenna was staring at him.
“Do not be afraid of me,” he said. “I might not hesitate to use violence, but only against those who ask for it.”
“You broke his damned wrist,” Lenna muttered in open awe. “You took hold of it and it snapped. Sergei, you’ve got to get out of here. Treck won’t take it well, not at all. He’ll kill you when he finds you.”
“Would you explain what this is all about?” Velmeran said firmly. “Why is a murderer like Treck Lesries and his misfits allowed to walk around free?”
“Oh, Lesries is a Unioner,” she explained. “Commando-trained in their military, trained to kill. Union supposedly gave him permission to settle here, but he’s still Union. On detached duty, as we see it, here to stir up all the trouble he can. Our treaty says that we can’t touch him, and every time we file a complaint they say we have no evidence. Him and his lackeys earn their bread and beer by poaching; they sell langie pelts on the black market. Several times a year we find a ranger dead, his neck broken, and nothing left of his herd but skinned carcasses. That’s his trick. He breaks your neck with one swift kick. He’s done that to about five of our boys here in town.”
Velmeran frowned. “What is this business about your being his girl? You seem to think otherwise.”
Lenna nearly spat in anger. “He thinks he’s a stud! He names certain girls to be his own, and if anyone goes near them he breaks their neck. He’s not touched me yet, but he will come for me eventually. What happens then, I don’t know.”
“What do you mean?”
She frowned regretfully. “My brother, Iyan, he’s port police, and he hates Lesries with a passion. If Lesries does touch me, Iyan will go after him. Either he’ll kill him and get himself into trouble, or get himself killed. But first I’ll see what my Trader’s strength and a few of my brother’s tricks can do against that kicking idiot.”
“You have nothing to worry about now,” Velmeran assured her gently. “I will take care of Lesries before I leave.”
Lenna stared at him. “Sergei, this isn’t your problem.”
“It is now,” he said. “Lenna, I am not a Trader like you know. I have fought the Union all my life. I have killed before, and I will again. And I can certainly handle this Unioner. Getting rid of him is one loose end I can tie up while I am waiting for more important matters.”
“You mean to kill him?” she asked.
“He means to kill me. Besides, if he is pretending to be half Starwolf, I owe it to him. Most of my friends are Starwolves. How did he come up with that, anyway?”
“He’s a heavy worlder,” Lenna explained. “Growing up in two and a half G’s left him as strong as a bull langie.”
Velmeran laughed. “Charming fellow! I believe that we should just wander around until your friend does make his appearance. Then we will really celebrate.”
6
Velmeran forgot all about the matter of Treck Lesries after the first hour. As the Kanians already suspected, Lesries was no doubt a Union agent, not so much a spy or subversive as an embarrassment and a nuisance. He was a wolf in the fold, and the Kanians were unable to protect themselves from him for fear of creating an incident with the Union. The only ‘safe’ way to remove this annoyance was for him to provoke a fatal incident with a Starwolf… and Velmeran was the perfect bait for that trap, a Starwolf in sheep’s clothing.
He was still unsure of just where he stood with Lenna Makayen. She was quietly but obviously in awe of him for how easily he had dealt with Lesries’s henchmen and his apparent disdain for their leader; he suspected that, in spite of her initial interest in him, she had also dismissed him as the skinny little off-worlder he appeared to be. Whether she was conscious of it or not, she did see him as the key to getting what she had always wanted. Either she was mercenary enough to try to seduce him, or else she was trying to force herself to love him because she thought she should.
Later that night, after they had taken in several hours of music at a Ranger pub, Lenna suggested that they should spend the night together at the port inn. Velmeran skillfully maneuvered his way out of that one, explaining that he had to report back to his ship for the night. Lenna arranged to meet him for late breakfast at the same restaurant; she had downed enough of the local beer to know that she would not be able to drag out very early. Velmeran desperately needed a few hours to himself. For one thing, he needed to eat; he had been dining on portions suitable for a human his size, which was hardly adequate. He did need to check on the members of his pack. And he simply needed a rest from Lenna’s dauntless exuberance.