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necessity that had
taken him away from the one real delight in his life. He had been a legendary
pilot, but he was needed too much on the bridge of this ship.
    At least they would be meeting old friends this day. Tregloran had left the
Methryn over a year before to prepare his own ship, the Vardon, for her launch
and initial tour of duty. With him had gone Lenna, perhaps the most unusual
crewmember ever to walk the corridors of a Starwolf carrier, as well as most of
the rest of Velmeran’s old pack. Only the core of Velmeran’s
special tactics team remained; Baress and the two transport pilots, Trel and
Marlena. Baressa’s pack now served Velmeran for the remainder of his
special tactics team.
    Of course, Velmeran was anxious to see the newest ship in the Starwolf
fleet. Valthyrra was a little anxious about that herself. Consherra had been
quietly amused by watching the ship’s camera pod, which had been engaged
in its own form of nervous pacing, looking over the shoulder of every bridge
officer in an erratic cycle. Occasionally Commander and camera would fall in
beside each other as they conversed privately. That was occasionally a bit of a
trick for Valthyrra, who had to choreograph the movements of her camera boom.
    “Have you heard any gossip?” Velmeran asked the ship as they
both stopped just before Consherra at the helm station. “Has there been
any hint that Theralda remembers anything important?”
    “There has been precious little gossip on the subject of Theralda
Vardon, beyond the fact that she is up and running,” Valthyrra explained.
“It has been a closed subject, considering the importance of the
information she may be carrying. Why did you never take me to look for Terra
while you were still in the business of predicting the future?”
    Velmeran did not answer, knowing when he was being teased and not
necessarily too kindly. As it had turned out, the almost god-like psychic
abilities of the High Kelvessan were limited to only a few months of hyper-sensitivity
at the time when those talents were coming to their full maturity. Velmeran and
several other of the Kelvessan aboard the Methryn were still remarkable
telepaths, even by the standards of his own kind, but his apparent ability to
predict the future had long since been severely diminished.
    The Aldessan had been so disappointed, they had refused to have anything to
do with him for a year.
    Velmeran was still young for a Kelvessan – very young to command a
ship of his own, young even for a pack leader. He was tall for one of his kind,
although the Kelvessan did not vary greatly in most physical characteristics,
and he was still smaller than most humans, even at the height of their genetic
decline. Like all Kelvessan, he had large, dark eyes and long, thick hair of
chestnut brown, but he was of mutant stock, the reason for his unusual height
as well as the fact that he was somewhat less human in appearance than most of
his kind, his long skull and hint of a short muzzle making him almost feral in
appearance. Consherra, who shared his mutant features, had finally figured out
that the High Kelvessan were beginning to resemble the Aldessan of Valthrys,
their creators.
    “Here they come,” Valthyrra announced, with an almost predatory
eagerness that made Consherra look up. The ship dropped her voice in a
conspiratorial manner. “They came out of jump exactly five light-minutes
from the planet. I never had that kind of control from my jump drive.”
    “Your frame could never take it,” Velmeran reminded her. That
was a very sore point with Valthyrra. She damaged herself just a little more
every time she jumped, so she was obliged to save it for emergencies. “I
would like to take a short ride in that ship, all the same, if you would not
consider it too disloyal.”
    “Just a moment, you two,” Consherra interrupted, sitting back in
her seat with both pairs of her arms folded. “That is the Vardon, and
Tregloran is the commander of that ship.