Mayelna glanced up. "What?"
"Shakespeare."
Councilor Lake sat at his desk, bent over the long printout of some report, peering so closely at the print that his nose almost touched the page. Donalt Trace paused at the door, having seen that his uncle was not yet aware of him. He was suddenly impressed by just how old Jon Lake appeared after his return from the Union High Council. He was shrunken and frail, half-blind and more than half-deaf. Uncle Jon had not been a young man for as long as he could remember, and he was no longer all that young himself.
Councilor Lake suddenly became aware of his presence and hastily put down the report, somewhat guilty for having been caught peering at it so closely. His vision had een artificially corrected as much as possible, and yet he stubbornly refused to wear his glasses.
"Hello, Don! Do come in," he said jovially, indicating the chair in front of his desk. "I was just thinking about you. What brought you in?"
"Oh, just sneaking around to see if you were asleep at your desk again," Trace teased.
"Not this time," Lake said. "Have you been busy today?"
"No, not really. You know how business is, waxing and waning like the three moons of Maldeken. In terms of that analogy, there are no moons tonight."
"Maybe they just haven't risen yet," the Councilor said, pushing a report, still in its metal folder, across the table to him. "This should keep you busy. Your test ship arrived and is ready for fitting with bays for those new Tracer automatic fighters. They're sending her straight into airdock. Now what do you plan to do?"
"What else can I do?" Trace asked. "We load these machines and send that freighter back out to run the lanes until someone takes the bait."
Councilor Lake frowned. "I hate to think that our two young friends will be out there with those things."
"So do I, but it can't be helped. The Rane Sector has been the Methryn's private hunting ground for a long time now. I want those missiles tested here, in this sector, where the two of us have absolute control over their use." He paused a moment, reading the report. "At least they have the launchers up to one hundred percent. Those things are too expensive to lose because they explode when launched in starflight."
"When a twenty-two-ton missile converts its entire mass to energy, the term explosion is something of an understatement," Lake remarked dryly, then frowned as he glanced down at the papers that littered his desk. "I heard that you visited with our two young friends again this morning."
Trace glanced up at him in surprise. He knew, better than anyone, that Jon Lake employed many spies, electronic and living, to watch the movements of his associates and underlings, but he had never suspected that he was a subject of such scrutiny.
"What of it?" he asked casually.
The elder Lake shrugged, as if it was an unimportant matter. "I can guess why you wanted to talk to them again, and I approve. Did I not invite them to dinner? But it did cause a bit of talk — not quite scandal — and Rik heard of both incidents. He thought it beneath our dignity to consort with Starwolves."
"Oh? And what business is it of his?"
"He will be the next High Councilor of this sector, and I will at least give him the courtesy of hearing his opinions before I tell him to shut up," Lake replied. "We're in this mess now because we spent too long pretending that our enemy didn't exist. Whether we win this war or lose, at least you and I have started something good."
Trace glanced up at him, startled, "Lose? How can you even doubt?"
"You may be right, but I still have hope," Councilor Lake teased, then stopped short, suddenly aware that his nephew took this all very seriously. Donalt Trace, so thoroughly trained — perhaps too well trained — in his belief in himself, his own kind and the rightness of his cause, could not even consider the possibility of his own failure.
Or so he thought, although in truth Trace had been gnawing upon those same doubts since his final meeting with the two Starwolves hours before. He could admit to himself that Velmeran might be the better of the two. He even told himself that he could accept his defeats, so long as he could learn from them. There was room in his own mind for doubt, but it shattered his confidence entirely to hear his uncle express such doubts. He had never realized that so much of his own confidence depended upon his uncle's belief in him. Now he felt alone, empty and afraid.
Councilor Lake leaned back in his chair casually, his hands clasped behind his head. "Nothing has changed, really. You are still the only real hope we have of defeating Ihem, or I would not divert half the profits of Farstell Trade to building your weapons. But will it be enough? Don, you have to have the right weapons to defeat them, and the best that we can give you might not be enough. That has been our failing before, as much as bad leadership. You know the weapons you need, but can we make them for you?"
"I can design weapons that you can build."
"But you have no one to use them."
Trace frowned. "I need Starwolves of my own. We can build fighters to match their own for speed and performance. But there is no mechanical brain that I can put inside the thing to make it fly as well as they can. To fight Starwolves, I need Starwolves. Fighting them would be easy enough on their level. But I work under such a handicap that I have to be ten times smarter than them to come out on top."
"Which you cannot be every day. Lord, Don, if you could capture and keep a Starwolf like Velmeran or Dveyella, I would move worlds to see that a viable race is created from their genetic stock." The Councilor paused a moment to reflect, and shook his head sadly. "They just have too many advantages. Velmeran might be smarter than you are and beat you at chess a thousand different ways, but he was designed for that. But I sincerely doubt that anyone can be bred for wisdom and insight. That is where I hope you will prove superior."
"And yet young Velmeran has more than his share of both wisdom and insight," Trace pointed out.
"Yes, what is it about that boy that is so special? He surprised even me — and I thought I knew Starwolves better than to underestimate them. There was really nothing he said or did that impressed me so much as just that tremendous sense of presence he seems to radiate. I fear, Don, that you have met your match."
"That remains to be seen," the Commander said coldly. "But I do know now just who my enemy is."
"You did not fare so well against him last night," Lake reminded him.
"I could have done no better against a computer, and I'm told that there is a portion of every Starwolf's brain that is very much like a computer in its functions. But real life is very different from a game of chess. For one thing, some of my best pieces are not on the board but hidden under the table where he can't see them. Surprise has always been our best weapon, and I know how to use it."
"Just as long as you remember to play the game onl your terms and not on his. Unfortunately, someone like Velmeran is very likely to play the game by your rules and still win."
"We will see," Trace said, rising swiftly to stand beside his chair. "I will take a look at that decoy ship."
"You might wait a couple of hours yet. I told them to stay clear of the area until the Methryn leaves, which should be any time now."
Trace shrugged. "Good enough. I have enough to do up at the station to keep me busy until they get in. I hope Rik sent me a decent ship."
"One of his best. Medium bulk freighter, and only five years old."
"Good! Send him my thanks."
"All right. Stay out of trouble," Councilor Lake called after him.
Trace smiled to himself as he paused for the door to open. Trouble was the very thing he had in mind.
The Methryn was barely an hour out of the Vinthran system when a rumor ran through her many decks like the echo of a meteor strike reverberating within her armored hull. Or, rather, a series of related rumors, and all of it surprising. Velmeran, it seemed, was going to stay. Dveyella had disbanded her own pack to stay with him — an occurrence that had caused Consherra, the normally reserved and capable second in command, to abandon her post while on duty. And, strangest of all, they had dined, by private invitation, with personages of no less import than Councilor Lake and the Sector Commander.