Authors: Thorarinn Gunnarsson
Nor was such a world a place for port leave. Starwolves were welcome in the
fringe worlds; the black fighters chased away the invasion forces and broke the
trade monopolies that could drain a planet dry. But the populations of the
inner worlds lived well on the profits of their trade monopolies.
Understandably, they did not appreciate Starwolf interference with what they
considered their just reward. But the Starwolves did not have to fear greatly,
as long as they were cautious. Unioners were generally prudent, and they knew
that their unwelcome visitors would level a port, not in vengeance but in stern
warning, if any of their number came to harm.
All in all, it was a dangerous and fairly ridiculous situation that neither
side liked. The Union did not want wolf carriers in its system, but there was
no alternative but to endure it. The Starwolves would have preferred to avoid
the inner worlds, but they had to come to the sector capitals to sell their
'salvage'.
It was not a good place for a young crewmember to take his first port leave.
And Velmeran had no desire to take a pack of seven young pilots into the
glorified cavern of port Vannkarn. Kanis would have been a better choice, since
no one could have gotten into trouble in a place like that. He doubted that any
of his students had the discretion to avoid trouble, or even the experience to
recognize real trouble if they saw it. And with two-thirds of the ship's crew
restricted to ship, they could be too deep in the avenues of Vannkarn for help
to find them if they needed it.
His one assurance was that they were armored and armed, as dangerous as a
Kandian spark dragon and as hard to kill as a Selvan land crab. So he reflected
as Dveyella sealed the last opening of his new armor and, much to his relief,
opened the front plate to turn on the cooling. He noticed Dveyella staring at
the cover plate as she closed it, and he bent his head forward to look.
"Blast scoring," he muttered in disgust. "Am I to be sent out
looking dented and disheveled?"
"It gives you the mean and seasoned look of an old warrior,"
Dveyella told him. "Would you rather wear your old armor?"
"No. But they could have at least put on a new cover plate when they
changed out the controls."
Looking at himself in the mirror, he had to admit, when he considered the
effect as objectively as possible, that the Starwolf image was mostly the
armor, there was certainly nothing threatening about the person inside. Humans
were smaller than they had been when they had first come into space, fifty
thousand years before. But Kelvessan were smaller still, averaging little
more than a meter and a third, yet, in full armor, they assumed dangerous proportions,
tall, powerful and menacing. Male or female, young or old, Kelvessan all looked
about the same; partly elfin in appearance, partly innocent waif, anything but
threatening. Cute, in a word, and eternally adolescent.
"Ready to rally the troops?" Dveyella asked.
"Gather the children for our little outing, you mean," Velmeran
said in mild disgust. "Come along, students. Today we learn what it is
like to enter enemy territory under the ruse of port leave, putting our necks
on the line in the name of having a good time."
Velmeran fell silent as the door of his room snapped open. The younger
members of his pack, who had been ready for some time, had gathered in the
common room that joined their suite of apartments. They all looked up at him in
surprise and some guilt, the only sound that of seven mouths snapping shut. He
assumed that they had been discussing ways to evade their guardians or spend
their bonuses in ways they should not. It did not occur to him that they had
been speculating on why their pack leader had needed Dveyella's help in getting
into his armor, or how forward she would have to be before he realized that he
was being courted. And, like everyone else, they wondered whether or not he
would go away with her.
"Port leave is supposed to be a time of leisure, of setting aside the
dangers of flying with the packs and forgetting fear for a few hours," he
began immediately. "Unfortunately, if you go into a place like Vannkarn
with such an attitude, you are going to be surprised. Remember that you are
above the law so long as you act defensively. Remember also that there are also
a number of people in a port this size who might attack you for no apparent
reason, who can suddenly turn violent at the sight of Starwolves. Religious
fanatics, of a wide variety, who consider us abominations. Some think they have
to prove themselves superior to us, bullies who have had some type of martial
training and are under the mistaken impression that they are stronger and
faster than you are. Others lack the courage to face you and will simply try to
shoot you in the back when you are not looking."
"Once in a port like this, a young man thought he knew exactly the
right blow to break my neck above the collar of my suit," Dveyella added.
"He lived just long enough to realize his mistake."
The students swallowed, wide-eyed with apprehension, as they wondered what
she had done to the unfortunate attacker. Especially when they saw that Baress,
standing by the outer door, looked sobered by the memory.
"You have checked your guns?" Velmeran asked, and the younger
pilots nodded. They had received their belt guns only hours before, and had
practiced on scrap metal targets in the holding bay that morning. It had been
very little practice, but their native proficiency was adequate to the task.
"Cargo Officer Veyndayk will be waiting for us," Velmeran
continued. "Now come the general rules of port leave. Do not buy or sell
anything before you have compared prices. Do not order anything off a menu
unless you know what it is, since you probably will not like it. Stay away from
even the mildest of alcoholic drinks, since they will send you into
hypermetabolism. You are free to flirt with humans but be careful with them,
since you can hurt them – even kill – without meaning to.
"Ignore those who want favors of you, or seem too fascinated with you.
Do not buy from anyone who talks too fast and do not give to beggars or
charity; you are too easily taken advantage of. Do not brag, or tell anyone a
thing about this ship or our business. Neither a borrower nor a lender be, for
loan oft loses both itself and friend. This above all: to thine own self be
true."
Dveyella looked at him in surprise. "Shakespeare?"
Velmeran shrugged. "He was always full of advice. Oh, yes. Treg, I know
your passion for furry things. Look all you want in port, but by no means are
you to bring an animal back to this ship."
Tregloran appeared to wilt inside his armor. "Why?"
"Two reasons. First, Valthyrra would pitch a fit. Secondly, there are
very few animals that could survive the accelerations, and many would not be
able to take the cold."
The trip down was the easiest part. The pack members were expected to fly
themselves down, so that the black fighters would be very much in evidence.
Baressa's pack, the only other one that had been granted port leave, was
already down when they arrived. Autumn had come to Vinthra. The sun was bright
although there was still a bit of a chill to the late morning air, which was to
say that it was pleasant by Kelvessan standards. That would not be the case in
the enclosed environment of the city, and they would be dependent upon their
suits for comfort as well as protection. They quickly converted their armor
into the proper costume, belting on their guns and wearing short black capes
attached to metal collars that fastened to clips on their shoulders that
ordinarily held the restraining straps of their seats.
The actual city of Vannkarn lay underground. At some time in Vinthra's
distant past, an immense pocket of magma had formed beneath the surface only to
drain away, leaving a single chamber of immense size, a vast oval twenty
kilometers long by twelve wide. Such things ordinarily did not last long, but
were soon closed by slips and breaks in the surrounding rock. But this one had endured
millions of years, as time and erosion stripped away the rock overhead.
Finally, after the planet had long been colonized, an oval section in the roof
where it was thinnest had broken and collapsed, revealing the vast underground
chamber.
In those days the Union and the Starwolves had been in open war, and the
black fighters had continually penetrated planetary defenses to strike at
stations, factories and military bases. The sector command had been removed to
the bottom of the cavern. The opening in the roof had been enclosed by a grid
supporting translucent panels that served as a base for the powerful force
screen projected into it, making it nearly impervious even to the powerful
cannons of the Starwolf carriers. Its only entrances were the trams and freight
lifts connecting it to the port.
Later, when the threat of war eased, the underground base had been slowly
converted into the seat of government for the Rane Sector. Then the Trade
Company had moved in as well, and a city grew to fill the floor of the rocky
chamber. And yet Vannkarn was not some dark cavern, but a jeweled city built by
the wealth of many worlds. Here it was eternal spring, and while it never
rained, brooks tumbled over falls and splashed along sculptured beds.
Vannkarn was a monument that the Union had built in honor of itself, a
tribute to its schemes and grand designs and a celebration of its systematic
rape of the fringe worlds under its control. It was the last place in all the
Union where Starwolves were welcome, where their very presence was regarded
with almost a sense of blasphemy. And, naturally, it was the inner world which
the Starwolves frequented most. Sporting in the very lair of their enemy, their
presence was a gesture of defiance and a most unsubtle reminder, in the
celebration of its own glory and power, that the Union did not always have its
own way.
The Starwolves made their way across the landing field to the port terminal
where they meant to find a tram to take them down into the city. They entered
through the commercial registry, where ship's crewmembers could pass through
customs and inspection apart from the confusion of the passenger area. A Class
D freighter, just small enough to land, had recently come down, and a handful
of her crew was waiting patiently while a rather young and frail-looking duty
officer ran their idents through computer check.
The Starwolves had no intention of joining the others in line. They pushed
past to let themselves through the turngate, and the duty officer rather
pointedly ignored them. But that lack of attention was by no means mutual, for
the younger Kelvessan stared in cautious amazement, even fear. This was their
first port leave, and none of them had been to the vast carrier facilities at
Home Base. And so this was their first glimpse of an actual, living human. They
each reacted in his or her own way. To some, men were the legendary creatures
of whom Starwolves were only advanced counterfeits. Others saw only the ancient
enemy of their race. Such was obviously the case with Tregloran, who stopped
short and reached for his gun. Velmeran gave him an impatient shove to send him
on through the gate.
They continued quickly down the hall to the wide boarding platform for the
trams. This was the main entrance to the city far below, twenty tracks in all.
All passengers arriving through the port, either off-world or by air from
other cities, entered here, so that there were more people in this one large
room than even lived in the Methryn's maze of corridors. The students slowed
almost to a stop until the older pilots urged them into the nearest tram. A
Starwolf carrier was a curiously sheltered environment, with little direct
contact with life outside.
"Were those human?" Tregloran asked uncertainly as they were
taking their seats.
"You guessed it," Dveyella said.
"They are not very impressive," the younger pilot remarked.
"I noticed how unimpressed you were," Velmeran observed, still
amused that Tregloran had nearly pulled his gun.
"They are very tall," Steena offered. Modern humans were ten to
fifteen centimeters taller than most Kelvessan but the fact remained that, from
her unfortunatetly low point of view, everyone was tall.
Just then the doors of the tram snapped shut and the tram started off with
an uncertain lurch that proceeded quickly to a descent that was just short of
free-fall.
"Can we speak with them?" Tregloran asked eagerly.
"If you can speak Terran," Velmeran said, switching to that
language. "I hope that you have been practicing it lately. It has been a
few years since you had it in school."
"I remember it well enough," Tregloran answered in the same
language, with a very allowable accent. Velmeran had a tremendous command of
the language, since one of his hobbies was ancient literature. But Dveyella
still held the advantage of practical application, since she also spoke five
planetary dialects and two alien languages.
The trip down was short and swift, and after only a few seconds the tram
began to brake to a sudden stop. Since there was no need for the protection of
a roof overhead, the tram ramps opened directly onto an open platform
overlooking a wide square formed by the two wings of the port hotel. Looking
outward from the platform, Vannkarn appeared much the same as any other port
city. Tall buildings of various shapes and colors rose across the uneven
landscape. Wide avenues formed ordered paths between the towering structures,
complete with forested parks and fountains, but above a gently curving ceiling
of rock replaced the open expanse of sky, the Starwolves standing at the
northern edge.
But above all there were humans to be seen by the thousands wherever they
turned, nearly half as many in this one city of two million as there were
Kelvessan in existence. To Velmeran, humans were descended from the Great Ones
of long ago, Olympian gods of antiquity such as Shakespeare, Beethoven, Tolkien
and Brahms, who had written the stories and the music he loved, and that
influenced his own image of the race. When he fought it was against machines,
with only a dim awareness that there were men at the controls. By contrast,
Tregloran appeared to see only the ancient enemy of his people.