Maeken leaned back in her seat and sighed heavily. “You are mad. And so am I, for that matter. Crazy as Treyvestrian Knock Beetles, so I guess that we were meant for each other. Who wants to grow old, anyway?”
“Well, they are safely gone,” Velmeran observed. The Velka, flying again under her own power, was cruising into the system as if she had made the entire run herself, rather than suspended in the belly of a Starwolf carrier. The Methryn held back; she had business elsewhere.
“I was beginning to wish that you had blasted them when you had the chance,” Valthyrra told him quietly, turning her camera; pod away from the main viewscreen.
“Have they really caused that much trouble?” Velmeran asked. “They never even came out of their ship.”
“All the same, that is the last that I want to see of Traders,”‘ Valthyrra insisted. “I have never before had a murder on my decks.”
“Attempted murder,” he corrected her. “A very near miss.”
“Well, Kella Mersans is their Captain now, just as I expected she would be, and she will keep them under firm control.”
“You expected?” Mayelna asked, looking up from her monitor for the first time. “Was that a premonition?”
“No, just an intelligent guess,” he insisted. “I refuse to believe in foretelling. The future is a variable. It can be predicted, in the honest sense of the word, but I cannot believe that anyone can actually see visions of what will come to pass.”
“Still, I wish that you would keep an open mind on this and any subject,” Mayelna said. “That is the only way to find out what you can do.”
“I cannot help wondering what we will do if these talents turn out to be fairly widespread,” Valthyrra added. “I suppose that we could carve up old drives to make crystal balls.”
“I hope that the two of you enjoy your fun at my expense,” Velmeran said coldly, and turned to Valthyrra. “And yes, I have had others come to me about developing their own talents. In fact, I already have two promising students.”
Valthyrra’s lenses nearly popped out of her pod. “How did you know what I was thinking?”
Velmeran looked at her in mock surprise. “I thought that we had already established that.”
“Yes, but I have chips for brains… as the Commander phrases it. How can you possibly read a mechanical mind?”
“How should I know? I am a simple telepath, not the Oracle of Delphi.”
“Wait a minute!” Mayelna said, calling him back. “Who are these promising students of yours?”
“Well, Consherra is becoming fairly good at her own card game. In fact, she is nearly as good as Tregloran.”
“Tregloran?” Valthyrra asked. “Of course. He is in many ways not unlike a lesser copy of yourself.”
“I cannot comment on that,” Velmeran said, obviously reluctant to make the same comparison. “But he is a cunning little sneak; even I am not aware of all of his schemes. And on his good days he can already outfly Baress.”
Just then the Methryn threw herself into starflight. Valthyrra’s camera pod glanced around cautiously, as if checking to see if she had made the jump intact.
“Ah, it feels good to run at normal speed again,” she remarked, and turned back to Velmeran. “I know that we should not tease you for your special talents. We have already learned that we must trust you, so please keep your ears open.”
“And what happens when I am wrong?” he asked.
“There is no need to worry about that,” she assured him. “As you pointed out, you are not the Oracle of Delphi.”
Unfortunately, Velmeran did not see it that way. As he took the lift back to his own cabin, he reflected that this was why he had kept his talents secret for the past two years. Now, if he gave warning and nothing went wrong, he would seem the fool and his reputation as a leader would suffer. And if something happened when he failed to give warning, he would be held accountable for his failure… or so it seemed to him.
He was surprised to find someone waiting for him in his cabin, and even more surprised to discover that it was Baressa. He could not imagine why she would seek him out now, unless something was wrong or she needed his help.
“Hello. Have you been waiting long?” he asked hesitantly as he paused just within the door, still astonished at finding her sitting at ease in his favorite chair.
“Not long,” Baressa replied, stretching her arms. “Consherra told me to come up a few minutes ago.”
“Oh? Is there something that I can do for you?”
“Well, to put it bluntly, I want you to get me pregnant.”
That was certainly putting it bluntly! Velmeran’s first impulse was to turn and run. He could not refuse flatly; by Starwolf custom, this was his duty, not a self-indulging privilege. And he knew that he could not come up with an excuse in time to save himself. But Baressa was prepared. Consherra had taught her well what to expect, and now she closed for the kill.
“You do not seem very willing,” she remarked, unobtrusively moving to place herself between him and the door. “Do you have some objection to accepting me as a mate?”
“No, of course not,” Velmeran insisted, retreating even farther into the room. “It just seems so… impersonal and contrived.”
“Impersonal? I am going to let you mate me until I turn up pregnant. That seems very personal to me,” she declared. “Meran, you have your chosen mate, and I have mine. And, to tell you the truth, I would prefer that Baress consider this his child, since he does not know that we can never have one of our own. Just remember that I have done this before. Treg and Ferryn have no more idea of who their father is than you or I know of ours.”
“Yes, I know that,” Velmeran admitted reluctantly. “But I still find it very embarrassing.”
“Why? Because you know me?” Baressa asked.
“Yes. And because I do not want you to know that I really am not very good at this.”
Baressa shook her head in weary resignation. “Velmeran, I am not keeping score.”
Maeken Kea tried to settle herself in the Captain’s seat, which had obviously been made to accommodate the Sector Commander’s long frame. This chair was a throne of sorts, from which the Captain commanded his ship. She knew only that she felt like a little girl in this immense seat, her legs dangling and her small body almost lost between its massive arms.
Unfortunately, this chair was not her only obstacle in her command of this ship. She was at a disadvantage from the start, coming unprepared on board a ship that already had an experienced crew. So far she knew how to use the intership com and the lift, and most of the buttons on her console. A second major distraction to her effective command was that she was not certain just how much authority she possessed. In theory he was along only as an observer; that did not mean that he might later decide to start giving orders. At least her name and reputation commanded enough respect; Maeken Kea had once fought Starwolves and won. Not even Commander Trace could claim that. And on a ship designed for the sole purpose of fighting Starwolves, that meant a lot.
Actually, the crew was a surprisingly small concern. There were just over a hundred crewmembers in all, three teams of bridge officers, a medic, and a small cooking staff. That was a very sparse population indeed in twenty-five kilometers of ship, but it needed no more than that. The army of technicians and mechanists needed to keep this hulk in repair followed with their parts and equipment in the tenders.
“All primary and secondary functions are powered up and ready,” a disembodied voice announced. The voice was female, not dry and emotionless but unmistakably mechanical. “All systems are ready.”