The Starwolves (30 page)

It was planet dawn over the area where Velmeran wanted to make his run, and
so he landed his ship on a narrow stretch of beach backed by rugged peaks and
ridges of broken rock to wait an hour or so for daylight. The morning wind was
cool and fresh, so he took off his armor to sit naked in the sand and watch the
rolling waves. This was a rare privilege, for the Starwolves had no planets of
their own, only a very few places where they could put aside both their armor
and their shells of remote dignity.

Curiously, the Kelvessan did not consider themselves at odds with nature. As
completely engineered as their own race was, they remained living animals.
Although their own world was a machine, they welcomed planetside life with
fascinated delight. There were, of course, many aspects of nature that
frightened them: the unaccustomed openness that they normally associated with
empty lifeless space, the great beasts in the wild and the strange sounds in
the night. Those were unwarranted fears, born of unfamiliarity, since
there were few things in nature that could harm them. Still they welcomed, even
longed for it, perhaps because they recognized it as something they thought
that they could never have.

As soon as the morning sun was well up, Velmeran put himself back into his
armor and returned to his ship. He realized, as he took his fighter above the
tumbled heights, that he could not have wanted a better day, at least not on
this turbulent world. For a time he flew along the coastal mountains, weaving
around rocky peaks and up narrow valleys, just for the joy of flying. He told
himself that this was an evasive maneuver, knowing that Valthyrra was surely
watching, that her attention would soon turn to other matters if she thought
that he was only prowling up and down the coast. The truth was that he was just
a little frightened. His computer projections insisted that this could be done,
but his doubts remained. Failure would surely mean his life; even if he
survived the crash, he doubted that he could get out of his suit before he
drowned. But this had to be done.

He turned out over the open sea, still keeping his speed down and his
attitude low. At the same time he fed his microdisk into the ship's computer,
waiting nervously as it digested the instructions he gave it. But it was
agreeable, quickly indicating that it was ready. At his order the on-board
computer began to reform the atmospheric shield that protected the ship like an
invisible shell. Slowly the shell narrowed and elongated, altering its already
tapered form to become a slender shaft a hundred meters long and no wider than
the tips of the fighter's down-swept wings.

Velmeran made a final check of his scanners, insuring that he was indeed
over open, clear water. Then he brought the nose of the fighter down gently,
reducing speed, carefully inserting the dp of that reformed shield into the
sea. There was no indication of contact except for a momentary loss of speed
until the ship followed its shield under the waves. There was a smooth, rolling
shock as the shield around the ship filled with water, and then it was
completely under and leveled off perhaps thirty meters below the surface. He
realized that he had succeeded, that the fighter was cruising at five hundred
kilometers per hour underwater.

Dveyella had been right. Water was just another atmosphere, considerably
denser, to a ship that flew tucked within layers of water at graduated speeds.
The fighter was not trying to force its way through a heavy medium, but flying
within a bubble of water that was moving at a speed equal to its own. There was
still considerable drag transmitted to the fighter from the forward cone of the
shield, so that it took a larger portion of the wolf ship's considerable power
to maintain the same speed. Already he was traveling faster than most
unshielded vessels could have gone.

But this speed was nearly as worthless to him as complete failure. Slowly he
fed power to the engines, gradually building speed to just below the
four-thousand-kilometers-per-hour speed limit the computer had projected. He
could tell that the ship was indeed approaching its limit; it continued to hold
smooth and steady, but responsiveness had deteriorated to a dangerous level. He
tried not to think of the danger of hitting something in the water, since he
could not use the debris shield; it would not have acted upon the molecules of
water itself, but there was enough suspended silt and microscopic life that the
drag from the shield would have been tike opening a large parachute. He trusted
that the atmospheric shield would throw anything like a fish away from the
approaching ship.

Satisfied that his plan could succeed, he reduced speed by half and brought
the fighter back up into the sky, then applied speed again as he drove the ship
straight up into the morning sky. The dream was still a very long way from
being a reality, but now he knew that it could be done.

Velmeran made three practice runs before returning to the ship. The first
order of business, he decided, was business, and that meant checking into the
condition of his pack. He realized guiltily that he had not given his students
a single thought since the attack. That was not exactly the truth, of course;
he had thought of them often those last three days. Now was the time for him to
be pack leader again.

Finding the members of his scattered pack was no small task, for they had
hidden themselves throughout various parts of the ship. Four had retreated to
their mothers' cabins, the only place they could find in a hurry. Kelvessan
maintained loose ties with their parents and many, like himself, did not even
know their father. He was surprised to find that Baressa was the mother of the
twins Tregloran and Ferryn; that not only served to explain where they had
acquired their quickly developing talents as pilots, but also reassured him
that he was not the only Starwolf on this ship with a disagreeable dame. Few pilots
were offspring of mothers who were themselves pilots, since the pilots had less
time to devote to having children than other female members of the crew.

The other members of his pack had simply hidden themselves in holes of their
own finding, and it took Valthyrra's special talents to locate them all.
Velmeran had them in their suits and down to the landing bay before they were
hardly aware of what was going on. He had begun to realize that his students
were quickly becoming very accomplished pilots, but any pack that was going to
fight with him needed to know a few special tricks. Returning to the same
coastal region, they spent the rest of the morning, local time, practicing
high-speed low-level runs over both land and water and stalking each other in
mock combat.

It was later in the morning when he became aware of a ship coming into the
system, and moments later he recognized it as a Starwolf carrier. That
surprised him, although he realized that, if he had not been so involved with
himself, he should have expected it. Leaving his students to play on their own,
he returned immediately to the ship. The incoming carrier was approaching fast,
dropping out of starflight at the very last moment, so that it was braking into
orbit even as he climbed out of the atmosphere.

The strange carrier settled into orbit barely its own three kilometers'
length behind the Methryn. Passing close beside her as he made his final
approach, Velmeran looked her over as best he could. Since no Starwolf ship,
from carrier to fighter, bore markings of any type, he still had no idea who it
could be. He was somewhat annoyed with himself for not anticipating this. Even
after such a disaster, the Methryn would not retire to such a place as this
simply for a break. Warning the other carriers about the new weapon was a
matter of priority, but she would have already sent word far and wide. There
was only one reason why she would call other carriers to her here. A council of
war was about to take place; the Starwolves were going to exact dire payment
for Dveyella's death.

Just after he passed the second carrier, a single fighter shot out from
beneath it to fall in line directly behind him. He wondered who would be in
such a hurry; perhaps it was her Commander, coming to confer in person. Mayelna
did not fly herself, mostly because it was too harsh of a reminder of what she
had given up. But Commanders were always chosen among the pack leaders, and
some kept their own fighters even if they did not fight. He knew that he would.

Since Valthyrra must have directed the pilot to follow him in, he landed
just to one side of his usual position in the center of the deck, allowing the
second fighter to set down beside his own. Their racks were brought in
together. Although Velmeran did not lack assistance, he saw Benthoran go
to the aid of the visitor. He did not think about it until he was on his way to
the lift, passing in front of the two fighters. He saw Benthoran speaking with
the pilot, a tall, thin and rather good-looking girl. Benthoran called him over
with a wave of his hand, although Velmeran joined the pair with some
reluctance.

"Captain, can you show our guest to Mayelna's cabin?" he asked.

"I was not aware of any difference in the design of our carriers,"
Velmeran snapped, bad manners born of his preoccupation. Realizing that, he
shrugged and attempted a smile. "Actually, I was on my way to the bridge
anyway."

Leaving her helmet with her fighter, the pilot joined him quickly. But they
did not speak until they entered the lift. As soon as the doors snapped shut,
she placed a hand on her chestplate and bowed her head in polite greeting.
"Pack Leader Daelyn."

"Pack Leader Velmeran," he replied. She stared at him, first in
surprise, then with a curious intentness. "Pack Leader Velmeran? Your mother
is Commander Mayelna?"

"Yes," he replied uncertainly. Had he already acquired this kind
of reputation? He thought it best to change the subject. "I had wondered
if you were the Commander coming over to talk business."

She laughed easily, apparently satisfied with him. "No, although I am
Commander-designate of the Karvand.

This is only a social call, although we will certainly have enough business
to discuss when the Delvon arrives."

"Have you known Commander Mayelna long?" Velmeran asked. Now that
he knew most of what he wanted, he wondered if there was still any point in
going up to the bridge.

"Oh, yes. All my life, in fact," Daelyn replied. "I was born
on this ship and lived here until thirty years ago."

"You flew with Mayelna?"

"Quite some time!" she laughed, with a look of terror that told
him that she had indeed known Mayelna very well.

The lift came to a stop and the two parted company, Velmeran hurrying on to
the bridge to find Consherra. If Mayelna was in her cabin, he knew that he
could get all the news he wanted from the helm or the ship herself. Daelyn took
the side corridor to Mayelna's cabin. Mayelna was stationed, as always, behind
a monitor; only Valthyrra knew what occupied so much of her time. This time,
however, she had apparently been hard at work on some task of her own, for her
desk was strewn with lists she had made and diagrams she had drawn up. Whatever
it was, she abandoned it quickly enough when she saw who was calling.

"Daelyn!" she exclaimed, leaping up. "Valthyrra warned that you
were wanting to board, but I did not think that she meant so soon."

"After all these years, I was not going to be slow about it. You do
look well," Daelyn said, although that was not entirely the truth. Her
last memory of Mayelna was that of the Starwolf who had not changed a day in
three hundred years, while the Mayelna she saw now was beginning to grow old.
That startled her, perhaps, but it did not worry her. What did worry her was
the fact that Mayelna looked as tired as if she had personally fought half the
sector fleet in a twelve-hour running battle.

"You know, I will never get used to seeing you behind a desk,"
Daelyn continued. "I can only remember you in black armor, the meanest
wolf on this ship."

"I am still mean," Mayelna said, very matter-of-fact. "Ask
anyone. You left this ship a long time before I became Commander."

"You chased me out," Daelyn corrected her.

"I did no such thing!" Mayelna insisted. "I was asked to make
a decision as though I were the Commander."

"Gelvessa Karvand thought me capable enough."

"Yes, and she got a bargain. So it would seem that – once –
I did make a mistake," Mayelna admitted, with obvious reluctance. "A
very bad mistake. And you were gone. Do you regret it?"

"Gelvessa has named me Commander-designate," she said, by way of
reply. Then she saw Mayelna's reaction to that. "Really, do you have to
look so horrified? I know that you would not approve... "

"No, and time would prove me wrong again," Mayelna interrupted
impatiently. "My problem is more acute. I need a replacement now."

"And no one suits you?" Daelyn found that easy enough to guess.

"If you have waited these many years to point out my mistakes and
shortcomings, then you are too late. Is this your idea of revenge?"

"No, because I really do have no regrets... except, perhaps, one,"
she frowned. "I met Velmeran on the way up."

Mayelna glanced at her expectantly. "So?"

"He seems like you. Just as mean and ill-mannered. And even more
brooding."

"Then you have not met Velmeran," the Commander remarked as she
leaned back. "He is quiet and introspective, yes. But not mean. This is a
bad time for him, and I hate for you to have to meet your younger brother under
these circumstances."

"He has been in trouble?"

"He has been in trouble for a long time now. His first pack was shot
out from under him; he was one of two survivors. Then I let Valthyrra make him
a pack leader of seven students and one old fool who should have retired. Now
he has lost a pilot the last two times he has led his pack out. That girl we lost
was flying under him."