The Starwolves by Thorarinn Gunnarsson Page A

a pack. The time
for teaching is past, but there are still some things that I can do to help
you. And if I am standing firmly behind you, the other pack leaders will too.
Seven of them, at least. That seems like a good percentage to me, certainly at
this point."
    "Help me what?" Velmeran asked.
    Baressa paused and regarded him closely. "You are no fool, Meran. And
you are certainly no coward. Now you tell me what I am talking about."
    "I think that you mean to make me Commander-designate," he
answered cautiously, afraid that she would scorn him if he guessed wrong. Up
until Consherra's very blatant bints, he had always thought of Baressa as
filling that role, officially or not.
    She nodded firmly. "So you do understand. I know that it was understood
that I was the only candidate for that position. And I would have taken it for
the same reason that your mother did, because I was needed. But I do not want
it."
    "And you think I do?" Velmeran asked.
    "No, but you will take it. You are better than I am," she replied
as she turned to leave.
    "But I am not ready to command this ship!" he protested.
    Baressa paused to glance back at him. "You will be."

-5-
    In Donalt Trace's experience there was nothing so boring and pointless
as a formal dinner party. These were the battles that young Richart Lake had
been brought up to fight; in his opinion, he could do more good for trade and
commerce by fighting Starwolves, subduing unaffiliated fringe worlds and
chastising the colonies. He had to admit that the old Councilor and his
grandson did fight and win major battles armed with only hors d'oeuvres and
wineglasses, hammering out sweet deals for Farstell Trade or alliances
between the allegedly unified sectors. The only thing he failed to understand
was why he was expected to have any part of it.
    Tonight he had retreated into a dark corner. Councilor Lake's suite was
spacious, occupying two-thirds of an entire level of the Sector Residence.
He preferred the cavernous halls and chambers of the Lake Mansion, some
distance down the coast from Vannkarn, where it was easy to lose one's
self without committing the social felony of simply disappearing. Quarters
were too close in this apartment, but for the moment he was left alone, a
glass of warm, flat wine in his hand, as he watched young Richart, seemingly a
boyish figure surrounded by the old fools he was deftly maneuvering into trade
agreements that were not to their best advantage.
    Just then he saw the Councilor's personal servant approaching in a very
purposeful manner and used that as an excuse to remove himself, suspecting that
there must be some message. Only an attack of Starwolves would get him out of
this entirely, and he knew that he would never be so lucky, but any respite
would be welcome.
    "A courier is in," Javarns explained. "There is a messenger
who wishes to speak with you, sir."
    "Here?"
    The older man nodded. "He is waiting in the hall, sir."
    "Thank you, Javarns," Trace said, handing him the half-empty
glass. "I will speak with him outside."
    The messenger was indeed waiting for him in the hallway just outside the
suite's double doors, shifting nervously as he eyed the armed guard who
had escorted him up. He was a young officer, no doubt captain and crew of the courier
that had brought him (couriers were really stingships, their sophisticated
attack systems removed to make room for a pocket-sized cabin and a tiny hold).
One of Trace's greatest regrets was that the Union lacked an effective
long-range achronic transceiver such as the Starwolves possessed, their
own being barely good enough for in-system use.
    "So?" he asked impatiently. "Are you out of Tallin?"
    "Yes, sir!" The young officer snapped to attention and presented
him the locked metal folder bearing the report. The Sector Commander only
stared at it and shrugged.
    "I have no time right now. You were there?" he asked, and the
messenger nodded. "So you tell me, quick and simple, what happened. Did it
work?"
    "No,