The power complex lay a kilometer to the north of the city, an artificial cavern cut well back into the rock of the mountain above it. Self-contained, the complex had only this one entrance. Double sets of massive steel doors served to guard the passage at either end. The doors at this end were still open, and he made sure that they would stay open before he began his ran. He brought the big accessory cannon to bear on the walls to either side of those portals, wrecking the locking mechanism and tracks.
The next instant he was inside the passage, ignoring the steady barrage of light-energy bolts that streamed down its length as he focused his telescopic vision on the doors at the far end. After a moment he could see that they were closing, the halves moving slowly inward. He had no intention of racing them, but slowed until they were closed and securely locked. Then a hail of bolts from his accessory cannon ripped those doors apart in an instant.
The generator chamber of the power complex was a rectangular cavern, bisected by a main corridor. A second corridor ran the length of the chamber, lined on either side with a total of fifty massive generators, each adequate to serve the needs of the largest battleship. The two packs fanned out as they entered, drifting slowly through the installation as they centered their lesser cannons on the computer controls of each generator. They had to insure that the generators were safely shut down, since a damaged and malfunctioning computer could force an overload. As safe as total conversion was for general use, a forced explosion of one of these generators would rip out a large section of this range, leaving a gaping crater several kilometers across. A chain reaction of several could destroy this entire world. Once the generators were stilled, their big cannons would insure that the planetary defenses would remain down.
At the same time Velmeran led his own pack west across the city, to where the government budding stood massive and gray in the dim lighting of early morning. Their task was in truth an easy one, and Velmeran expected no trouble. The pack spread out to circle the building, while Velmeran searched the top of the building for the proper chamber. There were several such chambers in that same area, all a part of the sector museum, with very similar design and window patterns. At last he was forced to draw back and turn his ship's scanners on that area of the budding.
Centering on the indicated chamber, he drifted in slowly, hardly more than a walking pace, and cautiously pushed the nose of the fighter through the window. The glass shattered easily, falling away. He drifted on inside that opening and brought the ship to a motionless hover as he made a quick inspection of the room, then brought the fighter down to floor level. Tregloran came in through the opposite window and settled in as well. Chance had put the younger pilot on the side of the chamber where Velmeran wanted him, the guns of his ship facing down the short corridor toward the double doors that were the only entrance.
Finally the transport approached the side of the budding, hovering before a section of the wall indicated by its own scanners, the end of the short alcove branching off the main chamber. While Threl held the transport steady, Marietta made use of a special weapon, a unique combination of energy bolt and projected held. She played it across the outer wall. The wall shook, splintered and crumbled away beneath the blasts as if it were being beaten by an immense hammer. Two large slabs of polished gray marble were reduced to rubble beneath those blows and the inner wall quickly followed, leaving only a twisted steel framework. She sliced that away with an ordinary cutting laser, and the transport drifted through that rough opening.
Threl brought his ship into the main portion of the chamber and edged it over until its cargo bay was even with the memory cell. Marlena had opened the large bay doors and now extended the handling arms out to receive it. The arms took firm hold of the unit and Marlena tried to lift it from its display stand. But the unit did not rise. Instead, the transport shifted slightly, tilting dangerously off center. Marlena quickly released the pressure and Threl fought to regain control of the ship before it slipped sideways off its field drive suspensors.
"Velmeran, that thing is fastened down," Marlena said over com.
"I suspected as much," he replied. "Give me half a moment."
He brought his ship down to the floor, landing gear up so that the cockpit was tilted down. He quickly climbed out and signaled to Marlena, who threw him a light and a hand-held cutting laser. With these in hand, he walked quickly to the end of the unit and flashed the light underneath it. The memory cell had inset tracks running down all four of its long sides by which it was locked into its cradle inside the ship. The Union official who had overseen the installation of the unit had made use of the bottom set of tracks, installing mechanisms that locked it down to the dais. He quickly cut loose the two locking bolts, then crossed quickly to the other end to free those bolts. He had just finished when Tregloran interrupted him.
"Captain, we have company," the younger pilot announced casually, even amused, so that Velmeran knew that he was in no real danger. If there had been any real trouble, he would have fired at first sight.
Velmeran turned slowly. Not five meters away stood a towering figure of a man, his legs braced as he held a gun centered on the Starwolf. He might have almost been a law officer making an arrest, so sure he seemed to be that he had the situation well under control. But that was hardly the case, for Velmeran knew that the little gun could not so much as dent his armor. He stood for a moment, regarding the intruder with an appearance of mild surprise and patient tolerance, even though he was securely helmeted.
"Commander Trace," he acknowledged at last, switching on the com link that gave him contact with the world outside his suit.
"Pack Leader Velmeran," Trace answered coldly. "I knew that I would find you here."
"So?" Velmeran asked, drawing his own gun. "What do you expect to be able to do about it?"
Commander Trace hesitated as that very question occurred to him. Somehow he had thought that if he could just get here in time Velmeran would be defeated and he would win, as if those were the rules of the game. But that was not the case at all. This game went to the player with the greatest advantage, and just now Velmeran possessed every advantage. His confusion gave way to real fear, for he knew that he was facing his own death. And when the Starwolf raised his gun to take aim, he turned and fled in open terror. He knew that his one, remote chance for life depended upon getting himself out of that chamber.
Velmeran hesitated, astonished at this turn of events. Defeated and fearing for his very life, the plight of this man evoked his sympathy. For once Velmeran saw him as he was, not a personification of evil or the enemy of the Kelvessan, but a man. In spite of his prejudices, his blind hatreds and his disregard for the lives and rights of others, he also possessed rare courage and a selfless devotion to duty. For good or ill, he was human. And for the first time Velmeran understood what being human really meant, both the familiar and the alien.
Velmeran realized something about himself — what he was in comparison, and what he believed himself to be. Killing this man would give him no satisfaction, nor would it restore some balance in his own sense of justice. Dveyella's death would not be vindicated in blood, but by the accomplishment of her dream. Vengeance was his for the taking, and he did not desire it. He could not hate this man, not as Commander Trace hated him.
He shot anyway, because it was his duty.
Commander Trace's back exploded in a sheet of flames, and the force of that explosion threw him forward to land with bone-crushing force just short of the open doorway and the safety he sought. He lay there motionless, the material of his uniform burning lazily. Velmeran had no more time for that matter. Turning back to the transport, he saw that Marlena had done nothing to load the memory cell.