Authors: Thorarinn Gunnarsson
“What, humans?”
“No, politicians.” He turned to Valthyrra. “What about it,
old chips? Who is this Alac Delike?”
Valthyrra would have shrugged if she could, and she did a fair approximation
as it was. “No information. Elections were a little over four months ago,
and this – political creature – must have moved to the head of the
class at that time. In my experience, I would predict that you are about to
find that we have been used as a pawn in a tactical maneuver known as political
grandstanding, an artificially generated crisis or overblown event designed to
create favorable notoriety for the party perpetrating the hoax.”
Velmeran shook his head. “Sometimes you sound like Bill. If that is
the case, then we embarrass them thoroughly and publicly and put them in their
place, and then we go about our business.”
“And if it is a Union trap?” Consherra asked. Velmeran did not
discount that possibility, which was why he went to this little meeting in
white armor and cape, with both guns at his belt and a very impressive array of
small but formidable weapons hidden about his person. He was met at the main
airlock by a pair of security officers in the green-gray uniforms of the
Senatorial Guard. They turned without a word, marching him smartly through the
corridors of the station to a lift reserved for official use. This delivered
the small group to the station’s government compound in a matter of
minutes, an area richly carpeted and paneled in real wood.
This was an area of the station that Velmeran knew well from past visits,
that portion of the command sector reserved for official use, mostly as the
space-side extension of the Senate. The two guards delivered him to the wide
double doors of a conference room near the lift, leaving him with the suspicion
that he had just been shuttled through the station as quickly, quietly, and
inconspicuously as possible.
The doors opened and Velmeran stepped inside. It was hard for someone as
small as a Kelvessan to swagger, especially in the presence of tall humans of
undegenerate stock, but Velmeran’s suit of heavy, white armor helped to
make up for that. Even so, the three men seated in deep lounge chairs scattered
about the room did not seem especially impressed. Velmeran could tell from the looks
of detached appraisal he received that he was about to be told what was
expected of him and sent away.
“Yes, Commander Velmeran.” A rather tall, lean man of middle
years rose to greet him, but did not extend his hand. “I’m Alac
Delike. I would like to introduce First Senator Arlon Saith, and Party Chairman
Marten Alberes.”
“What party?” Velmeran interrupted, determined to prevent these
people from putting him entirely on the defensive.
“The National Republic Alliance, of course,” Alberes replied. He
was a short and rather heavy man who looked like he could find better things to
do than talk to Starwolves. The answer itself seemed satisfactory enough; all
Velmeran knew for certain was that it was one of the old, respected parties.
The very concept of politics was a mystery to nearly all Kelvessan, since human
politics were contrary to their own social instincts.
“I must conclude this business quickly,” Velmeran said. “I
do have people out on very sensitive missions, and I must respond to a call
from one of those parties immediately.”
“No, no. Your secret missions are no longer important,” Delike
insisted, pleased with himself. “The war is over.”
Of all the nonsense Velmeran expected to hear, that was not it.
Delike began to pace slowly, as if unable to contain his enthusiasm.
“Yes, it is quite true. We’ve only recently signed a treaty of
peace.”
“We did?” Velmeran was still confused. “Who won?”
First Senator Saith laughed aloud. “Nobody won or lost, you little
fool. The treaty calls for a mutual cessation of all hostilities and a return
of normal commerce and political relations.”
“You have to understand that the Republic has never been entirely
supportive of this war, and no one can deny that it has gone on too
long,” Delike added quickly. “It is one thing to defend ourselves
from aggression, but we feel that we cannot be in the business of protecting
rebellious colonists and smugglers from prosecution for their crimes.”
“Those worlds are our allies,” Velmeran protested, although he
recognized the futility of arguing with these three self-satisfied politicians.
“The terms of the treaty are clear,” President Delike said, now
softly and sternly. “It defines for all times the boundaries both of the
Union and of the Republic. All space and every world within that limit are
their own, to govern according to their own laws and policies. We will no
longer interfere in or question their internal policies.”
“I see,” Velmeran commented quietly.
“There is also to be a partial disarmament as a part of this
process,” Delike continued, with the grace to look uncomfortable for what
he had to say. “They will scrap their fleet of Fortresses, and we will
remove the Starwolves.”
“Could I have a definition of ‘remove’?” Velmeran
asked politely.
“The Starwolves are weapons of war, created for the purpose of
war,” Saith explained without reservation. “The carrier fleet is to
be scrapped. Those Kelvessan known as the Starwolves are to be destroyed, since
they are trained in the habits of warfare and will always be dangerous. The
rest of the race of Kelvessan will be sterilized to prevent continuation of the
race, and they will in time be selectively sold to private concerns.”
“That means slavery,” Velmeran pointed out. “The Kelvessan
are citizens of the Republic, not property.”
“The Second Ammendment of the Republic Charter has been
revoked,” Alberes said. “The Kelvessan have reverted to property of
the state.”
“The Second Ammendment cannot legally be revoked.”
“It has, all the same, been formally revoked by Senate vote,”
President Delike concluded almost apologetically. Velmeran could not determine
whether he disapproved of these measures, or if he was simply afraid to explain
his actions to the Starwolves. “When the Kelvessan were genetically
designed, they were given encoded instructions to always obey human commands. I
am therefore invoking that control. You are ordered to comply with our
commands, and you will assist us in ordering the recall of the entire Starwolf
fleet. You will now return to your ship and await further orders.”
Velmeran seemed to struggle with himself for a moment, then nodded with
obvious reluctance. Alberes leaned back in his chair with a smile of deep
satisfaction, and even Delike was relieved enough to cease his nervous pacing
and return to his seat. That told Velmeran that they had been unsure of their
ability to order him until it was tried. Considering the reputation he had, he
was surprised that they had not experimented beforehand with other Kelvessan.
“Do as you are told,” Delike continued, silently prompted by
Satin’s stern stare. “You will return to your ship in the company
of your guards. They will stay with you and help you to remember your orders.
You will order your crew to place all portable weapons in shipping crates that
will be set in the corridors outside the airlocks, and to begin disassembly of
all of your ship’s major weapons. Admiral Laroose will be along later to
help you to attend the other two carriers now in port.”
Velmeran turned and walked out, the three men watching him in silence. The
same two security officers were waiting outside the door, falling in step
beside him as they escorted him back to the lift. He knew now that these two
fine gentlemen were not his guides but his guards, his appointed conscience to
insure his compliance with his orders. The problem now was figuring out what he
was going to do about a situation that he certainly did not like. If they
needed his help in disarming the other carriers, it would indicate that the
other Starwolves were no happier about this situation than himself and quite
possibly refusing to be boarded.
The lift doors opened, and Velmeran suddenly found himself in the company of
an old friend. Admiral Laroose had not been a particularly young man when they
had first met, more than twenty years earlier. Now he was old, white-haired,
and bent of back, and he seemed to be under the burden of more than just the
years, but also a deep sadness and regret. Velmeran had been instructed to take
his orders from this man, an indication that Laroose was still in charge of
dismantling his outlawed fleet. But he had some hope that Laroose did not
completely agree with this new policy, and would perhaps even be willing to
help.
“Come along,” he issued the tired, impatient command. “We
might as well get this business started.”
“Good to see you again, as well,” Velmeran returned pleasantly
as the guards hurried them along the corridor, with little enough respect for
either the Admiral’s age or rank.
“Don’t give me that, Starwolf,” Laroose said sharply.
“I’m just here to do what I have to do.”
“I hope that I can understand your position on this matter
perfectly,” Velmeran ventured in return.
“It seems that you do,” Laroose responded, with a brief sly
glance at the Starwolf.
It seemed that the Methryn was no longer an object of such interest as it
had been earlier, since there were now only the routine docking crews in the
corridor outside the airlocks. The authorities seemed to feel very certain that
they had everything under perfect control. The group marched down the long tube
of the docking probe. Baressa and her pack, all dressed in black armor, met
them at the airlock. The two guards apparently saw nothing in this to concern
them.
“I need you up on the bridge,” Velmeran told his pack leader
quietly. “And send Baress up as well. The rest of your pack is to seal
this lock and let no one through. Gentlemen, if you will follow me.”
The members of the bridge crew were certainly surprised to see the company
that Velmeran was keeping when he stepped off the lift. Valthyrra snapped her
camera pod around so quickly that the hinges in the boom popped. Venn Keflyn
had put in a rare appearance of her own, standing before the viewscreen with a
very thoughtful look on her furry face. Velmeran walked immediately to the
center of the bridge.
“I have been told that the Republic is under new management,” he
addressed the crew. “There is now peace between the Republic and the
Union. The carriers are to be dismantled and the Starwolves put to death. The
rest of the Kelvessan are to be sterilized and sold into slavery. These two
gentlemen are here to see that we comply.”
“Vethfarkmeerl!”
Consherra commented in their own
language, glaring at the two guards standing impassively behind Velmeran with
crossed arms.
“My sentiments exactly,” Velmeran agreed, turning to Baressa.
“These two are to be given something to induce pleasant dreams, packed
into a shipping container, and left in the corridor outside the main
airlock.”
The security officers looked startled and reached for their guns, only to
find that they had empty holsters. Shrugging innocently, Velmeran brought a
pair of guns out from beneath his cape. “Never trust a Kelvessan. They
will take anything they can get their nasty little hands on, and they can move
so quick that you may never see them.”
Baressa gathered the pair up and marched them back to the lift. Velmeran
stared, waiting patiently until they were gone.
Admiral Laroose relaxed for the first time. “Your enemies in the
Senate believe that Kelvessan must instinctively obey orders given to them by
their human masters. I assume that they are in error.”
“I should certainly hope so!” Venn Keflyn declared with some
indignation. “The Aldessan may have genetically created the Kelvessan,
but we would never have programmed any race with an instinctive subservience to
another.”
“I cannot imagine where they even got such a ridiculous idea,”
Velmeran said as he watched Baressa lead the two guards away. “Just what
is going on here? How did these people get in power?”
“By the usual method,” Laroose said, shaking his head sadly and
shrugging. “Nothing of what has happened was a part of their campaign
platform. It was, if anything, a very dull, low-keyed election. They had been
in office for a couple of months, doing nothing of consequence except the usual
housekeeping, when they suddenly announced that they had been approached by the
Union with an offer to end the war. Considering how long the war has been going
on, that came as if they had said they had sold the sky and the stars. Everyone
was so shocked that no one has collected their wits enough to protest when they
began announcing new policies. They told you that they revoked the Second
Amendment of the Charter?”
“They said that it has been revoked by Senate vote,” Velmeran
said. “That is not legal.”
“No, not at all. And it was not done by vote, strictly speaking.
Delike annulled the Ammendment by Presidential veto, nearly five hundred
centuries after the fact, and the Senate was unable to override his veto, with
Alberes pulling party support by intimidation. I decided to play along, since
it would leave me in a position to intercept you quickly when you came
in.”
“I hardly have the time to solve everyone’s problems at
once,”
Velmeran complained to himself. He considered the problem
briefly, then glanced up at Valthyrra. “Did you get me private
communication with those other carriers?”
“Ready and waiting,” the ship replied. “You might be
pleased to know that both the Delvon and the Valdayen have kept themselves
sealed, refusing to be boarded until they could talk to you. Of course, with
their noses pushed up inside their bays, they could not send or receive
achronic signals.”
Velmeran nodded. “Tell them to stand by, that we will be getting out
of here in a few minutes. Have them copy every order I give, at the very same
time. My word, I wish that Treg was here.”