Thorarinn Gunnarsson - Battle of the Ring

After that the tour began in earnest. Lenna saw everything of importance from the cannons retracted into the shock bumper in the nose of the ship to the fighter bays in the rear, with everything, including the cavernous holding bays and the Methryn’s immense generators, in between. Her favorite part, predictably, were the fighter bays, where every fighter had been brought down to the decks to final servicing.

Lenna’s tour ended in the Methryn’s school complex. When she was told that the first level consisted of ages from three months to three years, she had envisioned infants. That was hardly the case. Young Kelvessan, even at only three months, were perfect miniatures of the adults, long-limbed, wiry, and strong, well able to walk, run, and talk. They were also, in Lenna’s opinion, irresistibly cute.

There were only twenty-one students in this age group, fewer than she had expected. She calculated that to be about one hundred and thirty children out of a population of two thousand, a very small percentage, although, because of their long life expectancy, it did represent a very modest population growth. In this first level the young were taught reading, writing, and simple mathematics, and an introduction to Terran, their second language. By the time they ‘graduated’ at the age of eighteen, every Kelvessan had a surprisingly broad and extensive education, and they had yet to receive special training in their chosen fields.

Consherra left Lenna with the students, explaining that she did have duties of her own to attend to, and departed with the instructions for where she could be found during the next meal period. She managed to get lost navigating the corridors on her own. But it was a simple matter to find a lift, and she set the section and level coordinates that Consherra had given her.

“Late again, I see,” she remarked as she seated herself at the large table where Consherra and Velmeran were seated with at least a dozen Kelvessan she did not know.

“Treg, you were going back for more,” Velmeran said. “Will you take Lenna up and help her find something to eat?”

“Right away, Captain,” Tregloran answered promptly.

“Do you have children’s plates?” Lenna asked as she hurried after him. “I’ll be getting fat like this.”

Consherra smiled and shook her head slowly. “If she could take a few more G’s, I would be tempted to keep her. She is entertaining.”

“Sure, and it must be her odd way of speaking,” Velmeran agreed. “I cannot imagine what the Traders are going to do with her.”

“The Kanians are of Irish descent, are they not?” Baress asked.

“Mainly, but with a great many Scots thrown in,” he explained. “Makayen — McCain — is a Scottish name, unless I am mistaken. Of course, Lenna would not know a Scotsman if he bit her on the leg.”

Consherra laughed in mischievous delight. It was hard to say if she found his odd choice of terms amusing, or if she simply liked the idea of anyone biting Lenna Makayen on the leg.

“Of course, she told me once that her Kanian accent is a pure act, and I have heard her drop it,” Velmeran continued. “I suspect that she is just using it to beguile us.”

“There is no question of that,” Consherra agreed. “When she is talking about ships, she acquires a definite Trader’s accent. And she uses their terms. She calls a transport a ‘lift’, and a launch a ‘roundabout’. And she really knows her business, too. I quizzed her about navigation for some time, and not only does she know it, but she actually understands what she is doing.”

“Well, for a human, that is something new,” Baress remarked.

“You know what I mean,” Consherra snapped. “Most human navigators learn their formulas by rote, but they have only a vague understanding of the actual mathematics involved.”

“The Traders are not a degenerate race,” Baressa pointed out. “And their mathematical ability is very strong. Lenna may sound like a Kanian, perhaps because it suits her. Do none of your know your genetics? Traders are nearly a separate species from true humans. The offspring of a Trader and a human is what is known by the vulgar term of a mule, a sterile, invariably female offspring that is essentially a smaller, stronger version of a true Trader. If they know, they might not want her back.”

“She seems amorous enough to me,” Velmeran remarked. “Sterile hardly means sexless.”

“Well, at least we have a replacement for Consherra,” Velmeran remarked, then looked up. “Sherry, could you teach her to fly this ship?”

Consherra was plainly astonished. “Lenna? Varth! She has only two hands, Meran.”

“A distressing handicap, I do admit,” Velmeran agreed blandly. “But then, humans have done quite well in spite of it. I did not mean to put her on direct manuals in battle.”

Consherra considered that for a moment and shrugged. “How should I know? I have always said that the Methryn is, for her size, a remarkably easy ship to fly.”

They glanced up as Tregloran and Lenna returned, each balancing a plate. She seemed to be adjusting very well to life among the Starwolves, although ‘making herself at home’ was probably the best way to describe it. But then, for all Velmeran knew, she had already forgotten that she was not a Starwolf.

He quickly introduced the members of his pack, forgetting that humans did not have a memory like a disk drive. And yet, Lenna never forgot the name of a single Kelvessa she was introduced to. The problem lay in identifying names with the proper owner, since she could not easily tell most Starwolves apart.

“And then there are the members of my special tactics team,” he continued. “Baress and Tregloran are subsets of both groups. They are about tied as the best pilots on this ship.”

“Second best,” Baress corrected him, pointing to the one who actually deserved that honor.

“Trel and Marlena are the pilots of our modified transport. This is senior pack leader Baressa, and the quiet old gentleman at the end is Keth. He gets our students ready to fly with the packs.”

Lenna stared for a moment, since this was the first old Starwolf she had met. Or at least the first she was aware of as being old, since there was nothing about elderly Starwolves to indicate the fact. As she looked closer, she could detect the tiniest creases about his eyes, such as she had also noticed on Mayelna. And both had a few black hairs among their brown; they apparently did not get gray.

“Did you teach Velmeran to fly?” she asked hesitantly.

“No, indeed,” Keth replied. “In fact, I flew in his pack for a short time before I retired. I could no longer take the high G’s.”

“I know how that is,” Lenna muttered.

“In fact, Velmeran’s first grand adventure was to rescue me when I was captured,” the older Kelvessa continued. “If Valthyrra and the Commander were here, you would see gathered at this table all the people that Union High Command hates most. The Methryn’s Magnificent Maniacs.”

“Which reminds me,” Lenna said turning to Velmeran. “Where have you been all day?”

Velmeran shrugged. “Making battle talk.”

“The whole time?”

“Yes, actually,” he said, frowning with consternation. “Life was easier when we were secure in the belief that the Union could not throw anything at us that we cannot handle. Don has found himself a really first-rate toy this time. I hardly know what to make of it.”

“That sounds ominous,” Tregloran remarked. “And we are going to fight it?”

“If it is at all possible, then we must. And if we do fight, this is going to be our most difficult one yet.”

“Great Stars, I would not miss this one for anything!” Lenna was practically shaking with excitement.