The Starwolves (26 page)

"Genetic deterioration?" Valthyrra's lenses seemed almost to
blink in confusion. "Actually, it is hard for me to make any valid
observations, but that does not change the fact of its reality. Our own human
worlds are in slow decline, and there is every indication that the Union
worlds are proceeding at a much greater pace. Especially the inner worlds
– it is getting so bad that if all the machines were to suddenly stop, it
is doubtful that they could ever get anything running again."

"Why?" Velmeran asked.

"Because Mother Nature is a stern mistress," she explained,
the information analysis, storage and retrieval systems in her warming to the
task. "The one rule of all life is change, and the driving force is
survival. But that is a game that modern, civilized man has not been forced to
play in nearly sixty thousand years. Nature intended that only the best should
thrive and multiply, but for so long now nearly everyone survives – and reproduces
indiscriminately. Change continued, but in a random, ineffectual manner, and
once begun the process accelerates itself.

"Which, mind you, is all theory to explain what we have been observing
since before I came out of the construction bay. What the future holds is even
more speculation. But if the race is protected so that these conditions go
undisturbed, then the present deterioration will continue."

"Which may very well happen," Velmeran said. "Since we are
likely to take over the management of the human race in the very near
future."

"The Kelvessan cannot provide for the entire species," Valthyrra
answered. "I have often thought, when considering the problem, that the
best thing we could do for humanity is to systematically destroy its entire
civdization. I have even wondered if our very purpose is self-defeating. The
Union has existed for most of recorded history, and we have been a catalyst, a
unifying force, acting to keep it alive. I do believe that, had it not been
preoccupied fighting us, the Union would have split into its various sectors
and reduced itself to smoking rubble within the first few hundred years of its
existence."

Velmeran brightened, seeing the logic in that. "Of course they would
have. They would even yet. And a collapse of their civilization, a return to
the most primitive of conditions, would also mean a return to the old laws of
survival and natural selection, and the species would rejuvenate itself."

"Then you do understand," Valthyrra said approvingly. "That
is our dilemma; wreck a civilization, and possibly save a species. But I
already know that it is not our place to make that decision."

"The Union itself seems to be of the opinion that there is little
hope," Velmeran offered. "They believe that they are already doomed
to extinction, except for a few mutant races that are no longer strictly
human."

"In a sense, there is very little of the race left that is strictly
human," Valthyrra said as she glanced at the main monitor. Then, realizing
what he had said, she snapped her pod around to face him. "And how is it,
pray tell, that you are privy to what the Union thinks on the subject?"

Velmeran shrugged indifferently. "Councilor Lake explained it to us
last night over dinner."

"Councilor Lake. The Councilor Lake, who runs this sector like he owns
it – which he does?" Mayelna demanded. "And how did it come to
be that you had dinner with Councilor Lake?"

"He invited us," Velmeran replied. "Just the four of us,
Dveyella and myself, the Councilor and his nephew Donalt, the Sector Commander.
We dined on Vinthran follycrab."

"But... why?" Mayelna demanded in exasperation.

"Apparently for the sole purpose of warning us. The Union knows that it
is doomed, but it seems that the High Council intends to die fighting.
Councilor Lake warned us to expect war the way we used to fight it, for as long
as the Union's resources hold out. He said that we can expect two new, deadly
weapons that will soon be used against us."

"But why would he warn you about what must be the Union's most secret
plans?" Valthyrra asked.

"Because he knows that the Union cannot win. And I believe that, for a
number of reasons, he wants us to win. Most of all, he believes that we will
prosper once the war is over, and we will gradually take over complete
dominance of their own civilization. That way we will keep the machines running
and, if the human race does face extinction, it will be a gentle, painless
death."

"Their civilization is more fragile than they might believe,"
Valthyrra said. "The heavily populated industrial planets are wholly
dependent on off-world food supplies.

An interruption of that supply would starve those worlds in a matter of only
a few short weeks. Eight- or nine-tenths of the Union's entire population would
be destroyed before we could do a thing to stop it."

"Lake trusts us not to strike at civilian targets," Mayelna
pointed out. "According to his plan, I am sure, the Union will fight for
as long as it has warships in space and then it would surrender."

Velmeran nodded. "That just might be his plan. But that is not our
immediate problem. That warning of things to come is."

Mayelna glanced up at him. "Do you have any idea of what that is
about?"

"No, we would just have to wait and see." He shrugged helplessly.
"Forewarned is four-armed."

Mayelna put her head in her hands and muttered a most dire obscenity. Then
she lifted one hand to wave them away.

"Go away, children. All this business is simply beyond me, and I want
no part of it." She glanced up at Valthyrra's camera pod accusingly.
"Why did you never tell me about any of this?"

"You never asked," the ship replied simply. "We have waited a
very long time for the Union to realize that it is doomed, knowing that it will
begin the last phase of this war. We have known that we would have to be very
careful if we are to save anything of what would otherwise be destroyed."

"But what would happen if we drew back and refused to fight?"
Dveyella asked.

"The Union wid fall apart very quickly once interstellar trade begins
to fail," Valthyrra explained. "Then greedy men would seize control
to wring what they can of dying worlds. Faced with starvation, entire
populations could erupt into uncontrollable violence... or entire populations
could be put to death so that the chosen few might live. As I said, the deaths of
worlds would not be measured in years or generations, but weeks or even days.
Or perhaps even seconds, if they turned their own planetary defenses upon
themselves."

Velmeran shook his head slowly. "You envision a very dark future
indeed, but I fear that you are right."

"You should be pleased," she told him. "Your stupid little
dinner party was the turning point of this entire war."

"Then, by your leave, I would contemplate the future from the safety of
my own room," Velmeran said as he and Dveyella turned to leave. Then he
stopped short and turned back. "I am forgetting the real reason why I
came. Dveyella wants to stay with us, and we would like to know if she can fly
with my pack for now."

Valthyrra's camera pod bobbed as she momentarily lost control of her
voluntary functions. She glanced at the Commander, but Mayelna only stared back
in speechless confusion. She turned back to the younger pilot, pausing a moment
to check her breakers and relays as an excuse to gather her wits.

"I see no reason why that would not be perfectly acceptable," she
said in a surprisingly even voice. "Although I think that it would be
something of a waste of her own abilities as a pack leader."

"We had thought that it would only be temporary," Velmeran
explained. "Once Keth's students are ready to fly, I thought that we might
disassemble my pack to form two new ones, the other under Dveyella's
leadership."

"That sounds good to me," Valthyrra agreed, suppressing an
uncharacteristic urge to giggle with hysterical relief. She glanced at the
Commander.

Mayelna shrugged. "Suits me."

"So be it," Valthyrra declared with an air of finality. "You
would be going out to hunt within the next few days."

"We were the last to hunt," Velmeran cautiously pointed out.
"Remember? We ended up the hunted."

"With eight entire packs humbled, no one is going to complain,"
Valthyrra insisted. "And I want your children to make another run. Their
confidence is high now, and I want them to hunt again before they lose
that."

"A good idea," Velmeran agreed. "By your leave, Dveyella and
I would get down to serious business."

"I would have thought that you had done that last night,"
Valthyrra remarked as the two young Starwolves left. Whether or not they heard
her, Mayelna certainly did. She reached up to give the camera pod another swat.

"I actually got my way," Valthyrra muttered after a long moment.
"Just when I thought that I had screwed things up beyond any repair, I
actually got my way."

"Through no effort of your own," Mayelna added. She returned the
monitor to hold and sat back wearily. "And I remind you that you have not
had your way completely. I have not yet named him Commander-designate."

"If you do not, I soon will." That was no threat, but a promise.
"Why do you think Dveyella gave up special tactics to remain with
him?"

"To indulge her infatuation for my poor baby!" Mayelna replied
hotiy.

"She could have had him entirely to herself; he meant to go. He wanted
to go," Valthyrra insisted. "This was her idea. She knows."

"Whoever had the idea, I do approve of one aspect," Mayelna said.
"At least Velmeran will live to see his first hundred years. And not come
back crying because his beloved mate ran out of her own portion of luck."

"Then we are actually in agreement?"

"Well, partial agreement," she amended. "I do not approve of
this business. Velmeran is simply too young. What is the point of love anyway.
It can be among the worst of personal catastrophes, and yet people go looking
for it like fools."

"Command has turned you into the machine I never was. I would bet that
you have never had a passionate thought in your entire life."

"Oh?" Mayelna asked, glancing up. "Do you suppose that I got
Velmeran out of ship's stores? Besides, he was not out looking for his fate.
Love jumped him from behind."

"It also seems to have done him a great deal of good, and I like the
improvement."

"Yes, I can tell the difference," Mayelna reluctantly admitted.
"What do you suppose Consherra is doing?"

"She is in her room crying."

"I had always considered them a likely match," she mused, and
turned to her monitor yet again. "It is Consherra's own fault.
Actually, I do believe that I could like this Dveyella very well indeed."

"Oh, indeed!" Valthyrra agreed.

Mayelna frowned, realizing that she had quite forgotten what this report was
even about, and quickly set it back to its beginning. Thirteen officers at
their posts did their best to pretend that they lacked both good hearing and
natural curiosity.

"If it be love indeed, tell me how much," Valthyrra quoted softly.
"There's beggary in the love that can be reckon'd."

Mayelna glanced up. "What?"

"Shakespeare."

Councilor Lake sat at his desk, bent over the long printout of some report,
peering so closely at the print that his nose almost touched the page. Donalt
Trace paused at the door, having seen that his uncle was not yet aware of him.
He was suddenly impressed by just how old Jon Lake appeared after his return
from the Union High Council. He was shrunken and frail, half-blind and more
than half-deaf. Uncle Jon had not been a young man for as long as he could
remember, and he was no longer all that young himself.

Councilor Lake suddenly became aware of his presence and hastily put
down the report, somewhat guilty for having been caught peering at it so
closely. His vision had een artificially corrected as much as possible, and yet
he stubbornly refused to wear his glasses.

"Hello, Don! Do come in," he said jovially, indicating the chair
in front of his desk. "I was just thinking about you. What brought you
in?"

"Oh, just sneaking around to see if you were asleep at your desk
again," Trace teased.

"Not this time," Lake said. "Have you been busy today?"

"No, not really. You know how business is, waxing and waning like the
three moons of Maldeken. In terms of that analogy, there are no moons
tonight."

"Maybe they just haven't risen yet," the Councilor said, pushing a
report, still in its metal folder, across the table to him. "This should
keep you busy. Your test ship arrived and is ready for fitting with bays for
those new Tracer automatic fighters. They're sending her straight into airdock.
Now what do you plan to do?"

"What else can I do?" Trace asked. "We load these machines
and send that freighter back out to run the lanes until someone takes the
bait."

Councilor Lake frowned. "I hate to think that our two young friends
will be out there with those things."

"So do I, but it can't be helped. The Rane Sector has been the
Methryn's private hunting ground for a long time now. I want those missiles
tested here, in this sector, where the two of us have absolute control over
their use." He paused a moment, reading the report. "At least they
have the launchers up to one hundred percent. Those things are too expensive to
lose because they explode when launched in starflight."

"When a twenty-two-ton missile converts its entire mass to energy, the
term explosion is something of an understatement," Lake remarked dryly,
then frowned as he glanced down at the papers that littered his desk. "I
heard that you visited with our two young friends again this morning."

Trace glanced up at him in surprise. He knew, better than anyone, that Jon
Lake employed many spies, electronic and living, to watch the movements of his
associates and underlings, but he had never suspected that he was a subject of
such scrutiny.