Battle of the Ring (2 page)

“Of course, Commander,” Garkelley was quick to agree.

“Why were your engines phasing out of sequence anyway?”
Valthyrra asked.

“That is what we would like to know!” A young woman stepped from
the hatch to join them. Angry mutterings of agreement from Velka’s
airlock indicated that she was the leader of a potential mutiny.

“We had a bad star drive that barely got us into Tarvan
Station,” the younger officer continued. “Garkelley was our freight
and trade officer then. We had to leave Captain Wanesher to live out his last
few days in the station hospital. Before we had a chance to refit, Garkelley
arranged a deal with Dallord Trade for a new engine at a bargain price, free
fitting and a five-year contract on a series of runs that their own ships would
not dare to fight. It seemed a very good deal at the time, good enough for
Garkelley to take the Captain’s chair.”

“You knew at the time that we were taking a risk,” Garkelley
countered. “We had to get under way immediately. There was no time to
recalibrate.”

“Yes, we did agree, but for just that first run. That engine was to be
recalibrated at Laerdaycon Station. You told us that it was. But you put it off
because you wanted to impress Dallord by making up the lost time on their
schedule.”

“You are out of line, Mersans!” Garkelley said hotly.

“You are out of line,” Mersans retorted. “The crew is more
than ready to call a meeting.”

Garkelley regarded her coldly. “You will not find it so easy to depose
a Captain.”

“That is already decided, when a Captain nearly loses his ship to his
own foolishness,” she declared, then turned abruptly to the Starwolves.
“Speaking for the crew of the Velka, I ask you to no longer treat with
this man as the Captain of this ship.”

“Your affairs are your own, and we want no part of it,”
Valthyrra answered. “We will deal with your new Captain when one is
selected.”

“That will not take half an hour.”

“Half an hour, then,” Valthyrra agreed as she turned to leave,
followed by the Starwolves. Garkelley hurried back into the Velka’s
airlock, upset but seemingly unconcerned about the outcome of this meeting.

But Mersans hesitated, then quickly laid a hand on Velmeran’s shoulder
before he was gone. Then, remembering who she had touched, she withdrew the
hand as if it had been burned. “Forgive me... “

“Do not be afraid of me,” he assured her.

“I am sorry that we are such trouble,” she began uncertainly.
“I am Kella Mersans, helm and navigator of the Velka.”

“And would-be Captain?”

“No, I want nothing for myself,” she insisted sincerely.
“Once we are rid of Garkelley, I intend to make my own nomination for
Captain. But I must know, before this begins, if... when we were first aware of
you, if we had tried to contact you instead of run, if you would have
listened.”

“Of course,” he told her. “We are cautious, for our own
safety. If you had not run, we would have stayed away until we found out why.
Ships that do not run are usually traps. But when you sound like a company
freighter and run like one, we can only assume that you are one.”

“Our mistake was in running, then?”

“Certainly. We used to tell Traders from Company ships by whether or
not they ran. Traders would drop out of starflight to give us a close look at
themselves, while the company ships had no choice. Then the Traders began to
use a distinctive phase level.”

“Why do they not set their phase levels to fool you?” she asked.

“They still do for passenger ships, since we will not touch those. But
that would not work very long, for we would go back to asking Traders to stop
and identify themselves. Garkelley chose to run?”

Mersans nodded. “I was not on the bridge at the time, but I knew what
was wrong when we began dodging. We must have been taking forty G’s into
those turns, so I could only make progress toward the bridge between maneuvers.
By the time I got there, it was over. He said that you contacted him?”

“Valthyrra did.”

“How did she know?”

“I told her,” Velmeran said. “That was my pack on your
tail.”

“How did you know?”

“Trade secret,” he answered simply. “I am a pack leader
and Commander-designate, and that means something. Mostly it means that I am
not allowed to make mistakes.”

“That is something easier said than done,” Kella observed, then
hesitated even as she turned to the airlock. “Commander, were you the one
who shot us?”

“No, that was Baress, my second,” he said. “I would not
have missed.”

Kella had no desire to dispute that, and hurried on into her own ship.
Velmeran turned and followed the others down the docking tube, joining Mayelna
and Valthyrra at the end.

“Interesting group of people,” Velmeran remarked, turning to the
lift doors on the other side of the corridor.

“To say the least,” Mayelna agreed. “What did she want?”

“She wants to be certain of her charges against her Captain,” he
explained. “She believes that he should have gotten on the com when he
saw us coming, instead of running.”

“That goes without saying,” Valthyrra agreed.

“So I told her,” Velmeran said. “She says that she does
not want the position herself. But whether she wants it or not, I have the
feeling that it is hers.”

“Then we will consider that a fact,” Valthyrra remarked
cryptically.

Before Velmeran could ask for an explanation, the lift doors snapped open.

“I will see you on the bridge,” she said quickly, and withdrew
her presence from the automaton. The machine turned and drifted off, seeking
its mounting cradle. Mayelna pulled Velmeran into the lift.

“Valthyrra is quite beside herself over something,” Mayelna
began as soon as the lift was moving. “And it has something to do with
you. How did you know? There was nothing to indicate that it was not a company
ship.”

Velmeran shook his head slowly. “I do not know. It is not normal...
“

“Since when have you worried about being a normal, ordinary
Starwolf?” she asked. “You can tell me. I am, at this point,
prepared to accept anything.”

“Well, there are times, more and more often lately, when I know things
that I could not possibly know,” he explained hesitantly. “It used
to be that I was alert to clues that no one else could find. Now there are
times when I know answers when even I can see no clues.”

“You have already proven that.”

“Also, there are times that I hear the thoughts of others calling out
to me,” he continued with even greater reluctance. “That is how I
knew this time. It seems that I often hear thoughts of fear and desperation
during a run. But this time I heard thoughts of indignation as well, that they
were Traders and should be immune.”

“Telepathy?” Mayelna mused, and shrugged. “Why the hell
not? We have always had the ability to sense high-energy emissions. We
generally do not think about it, but it must be some form of telepathy. Must be
our Aldessan heritage. They are tremendous telepaths.”

“But why should I be the first Kelvessan telepath?” Velmeran
protested.

“Why indeed?” the Commander laughed. “Meran, it does not
surprise me at all. I have always said that fate must have conversations with
your subconscious, and now I see that it must be true. Why have you said
nothing?”

“It was not the type of thing that I felt confident to talk about. Not
until I gave myself away. When you are the first known telepath in the history
of your race, you tend to keep it to yourself.”

“Velmeran, I am going to arrange more matings for you,” Mayelna
said briskly. “It is now more important than ever to reproduce your
traits.”

That suggestion was a logical one, and with considerable merit. The females
of their race, at those rare times when they knew that they were likely to
conceive, often arranged a mating in the hope that desired traits would be
passed on to their offspring. At that time there was no Kelvessan whose genes
were in greater demand than Velmeran’s. Nor was there a male more
reluctant to mate.

“Consherra...,” he protested weakly.

“Consherra would be the first to agree,” Mayelna insisted. He
knew that it was the truth, but he had no wish to discuss it.

“I also want you to work on developing your talents,” Mayelna
continued. “Valthyrra might be able to help you with that. It will be
interesting to see the extent of your talents.”

* * * *

“The object of this first exercise is simple enough,” Consherra
explained as she shuffled a deck of large, stiff plastic cards between her four
hands. “I will draw a card and you will determine the symbol that is
pictured on it.”

“I take it that I am not shown the symbols on the cards?”
Velmeran asked innocently. They were seated together on the floor of
Consherra’s cabin. The Methryn’s helm was surrounded by various
items that Valthyrra and Dyenlerra had helped her collect. A portable medical
scanner was aimed at his back, although Consherra insisted that this was only
an exercise, not a test.

“Concentrate!” Consherra ordered, drawing the first card so that
he could not see it. He stared, she noticed, not at the card but at her. After
an instant his expression became one of surprise.

“Where did you get these silly cards?” he asked incredulously.

She shrugged helplessly. “They are the only cards that I could find. Thrynna
uses them with her first-level students – most of them have not yet
learned to read. Just tell me what it is.”

“It looks like a thark bison,” he replied.

“You are not sure?”

“I have never seen a real thark bison.”

She placed that card on the floor and selected another. “And
this?”

“Terrestrial horse.”

“And...”

“Quan rat.”

“Do you have any idea how you know?” Consherra asked suddenly,
her hand on the card she did not draw.

“I am doing it the easy way,” he replied. “You are looking
at the card for me. I see the image in your mind. In fact, you are thinking so
hard that you are practically shouting at me.”

“That is what I suspected,” she remarked. “Can you guess
the card before I draw it?”

“Now, that is harder,” Velmeran said, and concentrated.
“Tharnlak. Flordan. Sivan. Langie. And a very large dog.”

Consherra glanced quickly at the next five cards and frowned. “Harder,
you say? Because you have to probe the identity of the card itself?”

“I suppose so,” he agreed. “All I know is that it is
harder.”

Consherra laid out several cards facedown, including a few that she had
already used. “Find the Quan rat.”

Velmeran indicated a card but did not pick it up. Consherra looked at the
card, then glanced at him. “Find the langie.”

When he indicated the stack of discarded cards, she made a disgusted sound.
“And the wolf?”

Velmeran indicated a card without hesitation.

Consherra stared in surprise. “How can that be? I was making that
up!”

She lifted the card and set it down again. “Damn! Well, so much for
that.”

Velmeran stared at her as she began to collect the cards. “What is
wrong? How did I do?”

“You did perfect,” she told him. “But what about the
wolf?”

She lifted the card for him, revealing it to be a wolf. “I had no idea
what cards I put down. Either chance outsmarted me, or I have a touch of your
own talent.”

She set the cards aside and picked up a small cardboard box, which she
placed on the floor in front of him. “There are several objects in the
box. Name as many as you can.”

Velmeran stared at the box a moment before glancing over at her. “More
children’s games?”

“No, not at all.”

“I can see that.” He stared at the box a moment longer.
“There are five plastic figures that I identify as large reptilian forms,
perhaps Terrestrial dinosaurs. Please do not ask me the type; paleontology was
never one of my strong suits, although I do consider these ruling diapsids of
the Mesozoic. There are several coins of various types, mostly copper and
bronze although one is almost pure silver. There are four machine parts of
types that I cannot begin to identify. There is a pan, a rubber ball, and...
teeth?”

“Human dentures... that is Dyenlerra’s contribution,”
Consherra explained. “And do not look so horrified. Our teeth might be
self-repairing, but humans are not so lucky. Anything else?”

“There is a photograph,” he said.

“Of what?”

“How should I know? It is dark in there.”

Consherra rolled her eyes to indicate her impatience with him. Velmeran
frowned as well. He had little desire to be a part of this from the beginning,
and now he was convinced that this was only more trouble for him, much more
than it was worth. His new talents held no fascination for him. Instead they
had frightened him from the first, not in themselves but because they were one
more way in which he differed from his own kind. He was alone, and he would
always be alone. Even Consherra, as much as she meant to him, could not fill
that strange longing he had for someone just like himself.

“Velmeran, what is it?” Consherra asked, noticing his
distraction. “What is it about this that troubles you?”

Velmeran glanced up at her, and was about to tell her that she could not
understand. Then he caught himself. She had always made an effort to understand
him, and she did know him better than anyone else could.

“I am not certain,” he said at last. “Velmeran the
Magnificent has grown somewhat, coming even closer to immortal status. Perhaps
he is becoming a little too complex for me.”

Consherra nodded. Velmeran the Magnificent was their own term for a living
legend, his own alter ego, the great one who had lead the raid on Vannkarn and
five more missions just like that. He was the person that Velmeran became when
duty required. But the real Velmeran was simple, sensitive, and often insecure.
Only she knew him as he really was.