"As you wish, sir. Shall I take your gloves, capes or guns?"
Dveyella smiled pleasantly. "We have two rules about our guns. First, we never leave the ship unless we are armed."
"I can appreciate that," Javarns agreed. "And the second rule?"
"We shoot anyone who asks twice."
"Oh." Javarns straightened and pulled his jacket into place. "This way, please."
It seemed that they were indeed just in time for dinner. The Sector Commander was already at the table, drink in hand. He seemed to be in a better temper, now that he had adjusted to the loss of his prisoner, and neither of the two visitors knew just how great a loss that had been to his plans. He even assisted them with their chairs; the furniture of the apartment was all slightly oversized for the convenience of its inhabitants. A pair of firm cushions solved that problem.
Velmeran quickly realized that he needed to revise his opinion about this Sector Commander. He had thought of Donalt Trace as thoroughly military in the worst sense of the word, the perfect, obedient soldier. Obviously there was much of his uncle in him, the intelligence, wisdom and depth of insight that made him a giver of orders. Certainly he was less philosophical than his uncle, blunter and more passionate in both his devotions and his prejudices.
He was also the less dangerous of the two, since there was no danger that the Starwolf could forget that they were enemies.
"You really are a small people," he observed. He meant nothing unkind by that; it was purely an honest observation.
"We were made that way," Velmeran replied.
"I have never met Starwolves before," Trace continued, frowning as he considered the problem. "You know, speaking with you finally makes me realize that you are people. I never thought of you as people before. Starwolves have always been just the enemy, something that will get you if you don't watch out. As…"
"As machines?" Velmeran asked when he hesitated.
Trace glanced at him in surprise. "Yes, I suppose so. I am at a disadvantage. You know more about us than we know of you."
"Perhaps not," the Starwolf answered. "The Union has always been just machines to me. Machines are all I ever see, freighters and warships, and it is easy to forget that there are lives in those machines."
"Perhaps it's easier on the conscience not to think of your enemies as people," Trace said, then laughed at himself. "Listen to me! I'm not usually one to carry on this way. And with you, of all people!"
Councilor Lake returned from the kitchen at that moment, still struggling into a leisure jacket of some odd design. He quickly took his seat at the head of the table, the two Starwolves to his right and his nephew to his left. The battle lines were drawn.
"I have an excellent dinner prepared for you," he explained as he took a decanter from the center of the table to pour wine for himself and Trace. He knew better than to offer alcohol to Starwolves. "Vinthran follycrab, cooked in the shell, with a butter sauce that is my own invention."
"Follycrab?" Velmeran asked.
Lake shrugged. "The things crawl up on the beach in early morning, and then seem to forget the way back to the sea. Since they live well out of water, they often march inland for days. It is to their credit, I might add, that if they do find moving water, they will follow it to the sea.
"Now, let me see." The Councilor, glass in hand, turned to the two Starwolves. "I remember that you are Velmeran. But you I cannot recall… "
"Dveyella," she answered.
"De-vay-ella." Lake did his best with the name, and shook his head. "That's not an easy one for a native speaker of Terran."
Just then Javarns appeared from the kitchen, pushing a small cart that bore their plates. He served the two Starwolves with obvious reluctance, almost as if he expected a bitten hand for his reward. He clearly disapproved of their gloves lined up around their plates like the towers of a fortress wall, reaching skyward as they stood upright on their metal cuffs.
They, in turn, eyed their dinner with much the same hesitation, and for better reason. Follycrab, cooked in the shell, nearly filled an entire plate. Their blunt, thick bodies were carried on two sets of legs, and they were armed with two pairs of powerful pincers. Shell plates as intricately articulated as Starwolf armor covered a large swimming tail, half the creature's total length.
"Will there be anything else?" Javarns asked.
"No, not for the moment," the Councilor replied.
"Very well, sir," the servant said as he departed. "I will be in the kitchen, hiding the good silver."
"Good man, that Javarns. Been with me for years. I should have replaced him with a robot long ago," Lake muttered. Then he noticed that the two Starwolves were staring at the creatures on their plates. "Well, what do you think?"
"Icky-poo!" Dveyella declared, simple and to the point.
"Oh, trust me to be a better host than that!" Councilor Lake declared, laughing. "You must realize that in all the time you people have been coming here on leave, we have watched you very closely. It is the only part of your lives that we ever see. I looked up those records and found that Starwolves do eat follycrab, and they appear to like it. I am also aware of how much you eat, so do not fear. There are two more crabs for each of you."
The poor Starwolves did not know whether to count their blessings or curse their ill fortune. Dveyella had lived long enough and been on enough port leaves to have developed a healthy caution. Her rule was to be wary of anything hidden in a stew, under gravy or sauce, had eyes to stare back from the plate or came recommended by humans. Follycrab ran afoul of the final two of those rules, and she feared that the folly would be her own. Velmeran was still young enough to like taking a chance. After a moment of observing the tactics of the Sector Commander, he set about uncrating his own.
"Ah, yes! One of my finest efforts," Lake declared. "Do you not agree?"
"It is all right," Dveyella reluctantly agreed.
"What did I say?" Lake insisted jovially. The two Starwolves were becoming entranced, for the Councilor had a rubbery face that could change instantly to a wide variety of exaggerated expressions. "Though far be it for me to neglect my duties as a proper host, Iwas wondering if you would mind answering a few silly and possibly personal questions?"
"Not at all," Velmeran replied. "Ask whatever you wish, although we may not answer."
Lake considered that and shrugged. "Fair enough. First, let me see if I have this right. You are Velmeran, and you are Devayella. Male and female?"
"As far as I know," he answered. "Is it so hard to tell?"
"Well, yes," he admitted. "Starwolves may look very different to other Starwolves, but you all look very much alike to me. I will grant that your armor hides the more telling features. Your height, your appearance, even the length of your hair is the same."
Velmeran glanced at his companion, surprised. "The differences are very obvious to me. If I had to guess, you are misled by looking for the wrong things. Do we both look female to you?"
"Strictly speaking, neither of you look either male or female," Lake said, looking hard at first one and then the other. "There are certain childlike qualities to your features… "
"Velmeran is hardly more than a child," Dveyella said. "But I am nearly as old as you are."
"Is that so? I have seen seventy-three planet years. About seventy-eight or so standard years."
"I am sixty-seven myself," she replied.
"If I may," Commander Trace interrupted. "From what you have said — or how you have said it — I take it that you do not consider yourself human."
"Of course not," Velmeran said. "Why should we?"
"But if you are not human, what are you?"
"We are Kelvessan," he insisted. "Our race is of artificial origin. But we have been around for fifty thousand years, which means that our history is nearly as old as your own. Surely we have earned the right to consider ourselves our own people."
"You will do as you wish, I am sure," Donalt said, still distracted by his own thoughts. "It just never occurred to me that you might think of yourselves as a wholly independent race with a history and culture of your own."
"You were always the first to point out that they are not human," Councilor Lake reminded him. "The only thing that surprises you is finding that they agree with you."