Authors: Thorarinn Gunnarsson
Most Kelvessan had a quiet fascination with the human race. Some, like
Velmeran, believed that humans had greater control over their own destinies,
and were free to be whatever they desired. Others thought that humans lived a
fairly idyllic and purposeful existence, free of struggle, fear and devotion to
duty beyond their own wants and desires. Those, of course, were the dreams. A
few port leaves quickly impressed upon a young Starwolf that humans were, by
their standards, physically, mentally, socially and morally inferior, greedy,
quarrelsome, selfish, bigoted and slow of wit beyond anything they would accept
in themselves. Velmeran simply was not 'worldly' enough to know that; his image
of the human race was still hidden beneath the veneer of what he wanted to
believe it should be.
There was an unseen barrier between men and Kelvessan, such as did not exist
with other races. Each possessed the virtues that the other lacked. Kelvessan
were intelligent, strong, long-lived and lacking the baser emotions and drives
that formed the dark side of human nature.
But humans also possessed a naive belief in themselves that lent originality
to all things of their creation. It was that self-belief that the Kelvessan had
yet to learn, and what Velmeran wanted most to discover in his kind. It had not
yet occurred to him that he needed to look inside himself for that belief and
confidence.
But the younger pilots were not given time to look around, for there was one
remaining task to be completed before they would be free for port leave.
Dveyella, the senior officer, took the lead. They boarded a smaller overhead
tram that took them from the port entrance to the far side of the cavern. Here,
protected by the thickest roof of solid rock, was the sector capital building,
the residence of both the Sector Council and the High Councilor, as well as
Sector Command of the Union Fleet. It would seem about the last place in all
Vannkarn where Starwolves would care to go. And yet they had been coming here
for many thousands of years like pilgrims to an ancient shrine.
Near the top of the immense terraced structure was a single vast chamber.
Tiles of dark stone covered the walls and floor, and large windows, behind and
to the side, were enclosed with panes of gold-tinted glass. Indeed it did seem
like a shrine for some sacred or revered object, and yet, positioned on a low
stone slab atop a three-step dais, was but a single block of dull gray metal.
It was large, two meters high by three wide and eight in length. The metal
casing appeared to be quite thick, not unlike armor, and rounded at the edges
and corners. Bands of some protective metal also enwrapped it, and yet there
was no other feature to it except the twin tracks that ran down each of its
long sides and a number of rectangular receptacles on each end, as though it
was meant to be interconnected with a battery of computers.
There were few visitors in the chamber and those left quickly when the
Starwolves arrived. Dveyella continued to lead the way, walking quickly across
the room to stand at the base of the steps, where a rope of gold braid was hung
from gilded posts to hold back visitors. She turned to face the students, who
gathered about her.
"Do you know what this is?" she asked quickly, but did not wait
for them to reply. "You see before you the one great trophy the Union has
been able to take in the course of this long war. This is, as well, one of our
two greatest shames. It is not likely that you have heard this before. Now that
you can see it for yourselves, it is time for you to learn of the two times
that the Starwolves have failed."
"Failed who?" Tregloran alone dared to ask.
"Failed themselves," she answered. "Do you know what this
is?"
"It looks like part of a large computer," he speculated
cautiously.
"This is a memory cell from a Starwolf carrier," she said.
"The traits and personal memories of a ship are held in there. There are
eight scattered throughout a ship, with enough duplication in the information
they store and the computers they drive that even extensive damage does not
affect the operation of a ship. That, for all practical purposes, holds the
life of a ship. The Theralda Vardon, to be exact.
"The Vardon came out of the early days of the war. That was back when
the Union still had the technology and industry to be able to fight us... and
occasionally win. The Vardon was besieged and destroyed about sixteen thousand
years ago, the last of the fifty-seven carriers to be lost, in the years when
the Kelvessan were in some danger of dying out.
"Most likely she was ripped apart by a small thermonuclear explosion
from a shield-penetrating missile, such as the Union has not been able to build
in ten thousand years. According to the Union's own story, a piece of the
wreckage was found much later, and the unit was discovered inside. They
salvaged it, recognized it as something important and brought it here for
safekeeping. Since they assume that we cannot get to it here, they soon grew
bold enough to place it on public display."
"Can we get it back?" Merkollyn asked.
"Yes, if we want to try hard enough," she answered. "Since
the unit is of no use to the Union, we have let matters stand until we are
ready for it."
"Ready for it?" Tregloran, always the quickest, caught a hidden
meaning in that.
Dveyella nodded slowly. "That is the second of our failings. You
recall, do you not, that we left Terra during the early days? The Union could
not get at Terra directly, but they did something that forced us to retreat
from the planet for many thousands of year. Just what is not exactly known.
"Now comes the strange part of the story. We lost much in that hasty
retreat from Terra. Since we could no longer return there, within time even its
very location was recorded only in the memories of the great ships. And the
Vardon was the last ship built before the loss of Terra, the last ship that
knew where to find it. Since the Union knows even less of Terra than we do,
there is no one today who knows where Terra is.
"But Terra was not destroyed. Whatever happened, it was understood from
the start that we could return there someday. And our kind has long held a
belief, almost a prophecy, although based, I fear, on wishful thinking. The
Starwolves have long believed that when the time comes that we may at last win
this war, when the Union is waning in strength and we are waxing, then Terra
will be found. And the only place where we might discover how to find it is in
the Vardon's memory cell."
Tregloran stared in disbelief. "You mean this unit is still
operational?"
"Of course," Dveyella replied. "A sudden ripping out of the
leads can cause the memory to scramble, but a failure of the system causes an
internal protector to preserve the memory indefinitely. The Union has never
been able to get at that memory, and they gave up trying long ago. But we can
access that memory easily. In fact, we can restore the Vardon to life by
installing that unit in a new ship. We have allowed it to remain here until we
find a way that we are certain to get it out in a single try, and until we need
it enough to make the attempt."
"What is to stop us from trying?" Tregloran asked, as if he
thought that attempt might be an interesting way to spend their port leave. At
least, Velmeran thought, he had daring.
Dveyella shrugged. "Access is the main problem. The only apparent way
of getting our ships inside the cavern is through the dome, which is protected
by reenforcing shields comparable to a carrier's forward battle shield. And it
would take the concentrated power of a carrier's main cannons to pierce that
shield, cooking the city beneath in the process. All this, mind you, while the
planetary defenses and a quarter of the sector fleet is hammering away at us."
"I do comprehend the situation," Tregloran replied soberly. The
results of such an attempt were obvious, since the Union knew the only way into
the city and had planned their defenses around it. The Starwolves could do it,
if they were prepared to pay the price.
Dveyella allowed them several minutes to walk about the chamber and view the
unit from every side. Soon their thoughts would return to the more immediate
problem of port leave, but in times to come they would think often of the
memory cell and devise complex and devious schemes to recover it with little or
no risk. Such thoughts had occupied the minds of Starwolves for four thousand
years, and yet the unit remained where it was.
After a time Dveyella led them down to a lower level of the building, where
they waited in a terraced foyer near the main entrance to the sector defense
offices. Minutes later a Starwolf in white armor got off an elevator leading
down from those offices, somewhat to their surprise. Soon they saw that it was
Veyndayk, the cargo supervisor.
"Business done," he said, stepping up to join Velmeran and
Dveyella at the rail where they had been watching traffic pass on the level
below.
"Did you sell Keth back to the Sector Commander?" Velmeran asked.
Veyndayk laughed. "No, although that might be a good use for old
Starwolves. Farstell Freight and Trade bought back a shipment of clothing,
conveniently packed in their own shipping containers. And fleet ordnance has
just now payed us a finder's fee for an intact cutter."
"A cutter?" Velmeran asked. Cutters were the smallest of the
military ships, hardly bigger than a transport, and generally used only for
police work.
"My little joke," Veyndayk explained. "We took two intact
cutters as riders on salvaged battleships, and one we have had sitting in a
forward bay for the last year. We took them apart down to the smallest bolt and
rebuilt the ships by taking parts at random. Now I am going to collect finder's
fees on those ships in three different ports. That should give the boys in
fleet ordnance fits, when they cross-check serial numbers of those parts."
That appealed to Dveyella, who liked frustrating Union officials best of
all. "You know, they will not be able to use those ships until they take
them apart and rebuild them as they originally were."
"You laugh, but that is probably the truth," the cargo officer
said. "Are your pilots ready?"
Veyndayk, as the conductor of the ship's business, always took those on
their first port leave about the city to introduce them to the workings of
commerce. Buying and selling were new experiences; on board ship, anything they
needed was easily gotten from ship's stores. Young Starwolves were also very
gullible and in need of careful guidance. Their only protection lay in the fact
that not many people would dare to try to take advantage of them.
"Ready?" Velmeran asked. "They have been ready for
days."
"Seven at once," Veyndayk muttered to himself, glancing at the
group of young pilots. "Well, we already have plans to divide them into
three groups. Baress and Baressa will have Tregloran and his sister, Marlena
and Threl will have two more, while Dyenlerra and I will have the remaining
three."
"And what about me?" Velmeran asked.
"Dveyella will take care of you," the cargo officer said. "My
word, Pack Leader, you have watched over this herd day in, day out for months
now. This is your port leave, and I expect that you have it coming. Fair?"
Velmeran agreed reluctantly. Veyndayk called the pack together, gave them
his primary instructions and took them away in less than a minute. They would
take the tram back to the port entrance, where they would find the rest of
their appointed guardians.
"Well, that is safely done. Now we have a night and a day to
ourselves," Dveyella said. She stepped over to stand before a thick column
covered by panels of Beldiian quartz, rare and expensive and as highly polished
as a mirror. Using its reflection, she carefully pulled her long, thick hair
out of the collar of her suit, arranging most of its length to cascade over her
black cape.
"Baress and Baressa are keeping company?" Velmeran asked.
"What do they have in common – besides the same name?"
"Is that not sufficient for a beginning?" Dveyella asked.
"Ordinarily, no. Not for Baressa. She is very careful of the company
she keeps. Pack leaders as a rule, although she has briefly entertained
officers from other ships."
"Oh? Has she been after you?" Dveyella asked mischievously.
"Hardly! I am too young for her."
"I would never think so."
"Perhaps you do not have very high standards," Velmeran teased in
return, realizing too late how that reflected back on him.
"Starwolves!"
Velmeran and Dveyella both froze as their ears picked up that single voice
some distance behind them. Ordinarily they would not have noticed, but there was
something about the way that single word had been said. In amazement,
certainly. But it was also an accusation, and an acknowledgment of defeat.
"Coincidence?" another, older voice asked. "Neither of us
believe that, obviously. You have lost your captive, it seems. A courier should
be in soon."
Velmeran saw that Dveyella was staring into the mirrored surface of the
column, and unobtrusively shifted his stance so that he could see the image
reflected there. The stone was dark, and the images were indistinct. The older
man was richly dressed, slightly bent with age but still taller than himself.
Beside him, glaring at the two Starwolves, stood a giant of a man to match the
deep, forceful voice. Tall and gaunt, he was clearly a warrior. And, judging by
the uniform, this was no less than the Sector Commander.
"They have their nerve to come hopping in here!" the tall man
declared.
"So? And what can we do about it?" the older one asked. "Come
along. Why don't we ask them to dinner?"
Velmeran did not know what to make of that final statement, but the two were
indeed approaching. After this, he began to believe that his kind had been
given enhanced hearing for the sole purpose of eavesdropping.