And dawn will find you alone.
Vannkarn was at its best in the later hours of the morning, from the time when the shops first opened until the midday meal. Then everyone seemed to be out and about the city; men the avenues were cheerfully noisy and all the stores from the simple stalls of the port market to the elegant and expensive shops of the Terraces, were filled with eager and alert buyers. At this time even Starwolves could mingle freely with travelers, tourists and native cave dwellers and no one seemed to take much notice.
But that morning it was too easy for Velmeran to dream of other things, after all that Dveyella had taught him the night before. It was not accurate to say that he had lost his innocence; that was a tall order for anyone, but she had put a sizable dent in it. At the very least he had learned that there was considerably more to this matter than he had thought; he had taken a mate, and now had to consider the consequences. True, his old loneliness had vanished and he felt more at peace with himself than he had in a long time. On the other hand, his cherished privacy was thoroughly and irrevocably invaded. He was frightened by the prospect that Dveyella might turn up pregnant, as unlikely as that was, and yet he was only too eager to try again.
Unfortunately, he did not seem to have any choice in the matter. Dveyella had decided that this was what should be, and he could not say no. Which was his own shy way of admitting that he wanted it just as much. Some things simply had to be, regardless of the risk. Let others think what they will. He was happy. Worried, but happy.
They were making their way through the crowded avenues leading to the more expensive shops of the upper Terraces when it came. Velmeran stopped suddenly and turned with abrupt swiftness. Dveyella saw the beginning of that move and interpreted it as one of alarm and in the same instant turned also, a gun in each set of hands. Two score humans nearly died of fright in the following moment, but that was all Dveyella could see.
"What is it?" she asked softly, putting away her guns.
"It seemed to me that I heard someone calling me," Velmeran replied uncertainly. "Someone is looking for me."
"Who?"
"Commander Trace, actually," he said, and shrugged at his own unwillingness to believe what he had just said.
Before Dveyella had any opportunity to comment, Donalt Trace himself appeared as if summoned by the mention of his name, approaching from a side street not fifteen meters away. He wore dress uniform, as he had the night before; towering a head above anyone else in the crowd, he could have no more disguised his identity than the two Starwolves might have. Having seen them as they passed, he now hurried after them as they waited.
"Val treron de altrys caldayson!" Dveyella exclaimed softly in Tresdyland before switching back to Terran. "Speak of the devil and he shall appear! But how did you do that? Telepathy of that order is a purely Aldessan trick. You are worth more than I thought."
Velmeran had no time to reply to that, even if he had an answer. He turned to the approaching Sector Commander and bowed his head as well as his armor would allow. "Val edesson. Commander Trace."
"Good morning to you, young Starwolf," Trace answered pleasantly. "I certainly hope that I have the pleasure of addressing Pack Leader Velmeran. I have been most of the morning looking for you."
"Oh? Surely there are not that many Starwolves in Vannkam."
"As a matter of fact, there were five hundred and seventy-nine at last count," the Commander said, indicating for them to proceed to a small open-air cafe just ahead. "And, if I may say with no malice intended, they all look alike to me. But there are very few in black armor, and I believe that I have learned to recognize the two of you."
They took a corner table at the cafe, as far from the open as possible. Although feared and often hated, Starwolves in armor generated intense interest in themselves. But for a pair in black armor to be seated at the same table of a fashionable cafe with the towering figure of the Sector Commander was a sight never before seen in the long history of Vannkam. Commander Trace was apparently unconcerned about the amount of attention they drew. He ordered cold drinks, nonalcoholic, for them all. And yet, for all his urgency, he seemed at a loss to know how to begin.
"You wanted to speak to us about something?" Velmeran prompted.
"Actually, I wanted to finish our conversation from last night," Trace began, still hesitant. "There are some things that I would ask. The martial creed does not allow you to sit down with your enemies and talk like friends. Can you understand that?"
"I believe so," Velmeran said.
"I admit that I have always thought of Starwolves as just machines cut from the same mold, identical and lifeless. Interchangeable components, you might say, for sticking behind the controls of your fighters. You have challenged me to think of you as people, and now I want to know more."
Velmeran understood only too well the Sector Commander's purpose in coming. It seemed that Donalt Trace was a wiser, more open-minded man than Velmeran had first given him credit for being. He had thought that he knew his enemy well enough, having sifted through every legend, myth and prejudice to come up with his own idea of what Starwolves should be. Confronted with reality, he accepted his error and sought to correct it. Velmeran, however, had no intention of being the source of the Sector Commander's better understanding of his enemy, especially since that knowledge would be put to defeating his own kind.
In truth, Velmeran hardly knew what to think. The Union had always underestimated the Starwolves, much to their own detriment. Why change things now? The Union could easily battle itself to an early death. On the other hand, if Union High Command had a better understanding of its enemy, it might be a little more interested in an early surrender. Velmeran quickly decided that he had already said enough the night before.
"Do you allow nonhumans in the military?" Velmeran asked suddenly after they had been talking casually for well over an hour.
"What?" Trace glanced up, startled. "Nonhumans? You know the Terms of Unification. Each race is a society in itself. Members of one race have no business in the affairs of another."
"With exceptions," Dveyella pointed out.
"With a very few exceptions," Trace corrected her.
"And yet several races are under Union rule," Velmeran observed.
"That is different. We control on the governmental level, but we do not interfere on the cultural level. Damn it, Starwolf, face facts. We cannot allow hostile alien elements within our own space. The Kalfethki would drive us mad with their ritual murder and terrorism if we allowed them free travel."
"The Feldennye are hardly a threat."
"And we make sure of that," the Commander said firmly. "How can you tell who will be a threat and who won't? Knowing you two, if I were to come upon a civdization of your kind, alone and untroubled, I would suspect that you would be the most peaceful, harmless souls — if you have souls — in all space. But I also know better."
"An interesting point. Although, for the likes of Feldennye and ourselves, it takes an enemy to make us fight," Velmeran said. "But returning to my original question, which you did not answer. In this sector you have the Kalfethki and two Feldennye worlds. I do not see you as one not to take advantage of a resource, and each does have something to offer."
"True enough, and I do admit it. We have been using Feldennye in clerical and highly skilled technical areas for some time now. We have no choice. Our own people can no longer do what they can. The Kalfethki are useful in some tasks, but they are also a tremendous security problem. I think that our new Shepherd sentries are much better."
"I did not find them all that dangerous," Dveyella commented.
"You did not?" Trace asked, eyeing her skeptically. "Do you think that we would do better with Kalfethki guards?"
"No, your sentries are superior to Kalfethki warriors — which, I am afraid, is not saying much. Your machines are loyal and more difficult to kill."
Trace laughed in private amusement. "I would suspect you of smoke-screening me, if I didn't know what you did to my sentries at Bineck. One, they say, was picked up and tossed down a stairwell."
Now Dveyella laughed, pointing to her contrite mate. "Ask him about that!"
Trace stared at him in amazement. "You picked that thing up yourself? My dear Starwolf, those mechanical beasts weigh over two tons!"
Velmeran shrugged. "It was not all that heavy. I thought that you had a better idea of just how strong we are."
"So I've heard." He paused for a moment, frowning at his own thoughts. "Does it never bother you, knowing that your race was made for a purpose?"
Velmeran frowned as he considered that. "Yes, we do think about it often enough. We know that we were made for a specific purpose, and that we would not exist at all except for that purpose. But I prefer to think that we were designed not for the specific purpose of flying starfighters, but for the more general function of space travel. Consider the independent traders, who have lived aboard their ships for tens of thousands of years now. They have become as much like us as nature can manage: small, strong and quick."
"And yet it seems to me that you are still as tied to your assigned task as if you had been a living machine," Trace observed. "Having been born a Starwolf aboard a Starwolf ship, you had little choice in the matter."
"Actually, very few of us are pilots."
"True, but you are a warrior and a leader. I can see that clearly enough just talking with you."
"Then, in a sense, our destinies are largely guided by our abilities and opportunities," Velmeran said. "My choices were no greater or less than your own. You are of the Lake clan, and you are the warrior of your generation. And so you were destined to be what you have become, or were shaped to be. Where then is your freedom?"
"I could have refused," Trace insisted.
"Could you? Have you ever thought about what your other choices might have been?"
"I cannot be anything but what I am," Commander Trace said, perhaps to avoid a more direct answer.
"That is also the truth for me," Velmeran said, and rose from his chair. "I am afraid that we must go now, since we both have packs waiting that must be back to the ship by noon port time."