Damia (2 page)

Aware of young Afra’s problems, the Capella stationmaster, Hasardar, tactfully had the boy doing small “jobs” for him, jobs which the worried parents could not take exception to as they were aimed at developing his potential. Afra willingly did the “errands,” delighted to be considered—for once—capable of doing something properly.

One of these errands took him to a large freighter with a packet, requested by the captain. Afra was agog with the prospect of actually meeting spacemen. He’d seen ships come and go from Capella all his short life but had never actually encountered off-worlders.

As he trotted up to the open hatch, he saw big burly space-tanned men lounging within. He also heard a babble of sound which made no sense at all to his ears. His mind, however, translated the meaning.

“This is no place for leave, boys. Straight as dies, these folk. Methody believers, and you know what that means.”

“Sure, chief, no hanky-panky, no funsies, no drink, no smokings. Hey, what’s coming here? A pint-size greenie! Don’t they grow ’em a decent size?”

“Ah, it’s a kid.” And one of the men swung down the ramp, grinning. “Good morning,” he said in good Basic.

Afra stared up at him.

“You got a package for the Captain, boy? Stationmaster said he’d have it hand-delivered.”

Afra continued to stare, extending the package with both hands, puzzled by the strange words and especially by the description of himself.

“What does ‘pint-sized greenie’ mean, please, sir?”

Afra flinched at the laughter from the lock and then from the angry glare the chief directed at his crewmen.

“Don’t be offended, laddie,” the chief said in a kind tone. “Some spacers have no manners. You understand more than Basic?”

Afra wasn’t sure what response to make. While he knew some people could not ’path, he didn’t know that there were many different forms of language in the galaxy.
However, as his family would expect him to give a courteous answer to a friendly question, he gave a nod.

“I understand what you say,” Afra replied. “I don’t understand ‘pint-sized greenie.’”

The chief hunkered down, being conscious that it was wise not to offend locals, even a kid. And a kid would be more likely to repeat what had been said to the Stationmaster. It was also smart for freighter crew to be on the best possible terms with Tower Stationmasters.

“It’s like this, lad,” and he rolled back his sleeve, showing a brown-skinned arm, then he pointed to Afra’s hand. “My skin is brown, your skin is green. I’m a brownie,” and he ignored the hoots from his crew, “and you’re a greenie. Just a matter of what color we got born with. Now, ‘pint-sized’ means small, and I’d be gallon-sized, ’cause I’m much bigger. Get me?”

“More like barrel, Chief!” one of the crew chortled, again using the different sounds, though his mind made the comment clear to Afra.

Afra cocked his head at the chief, noticing other differences between himself, a Capellan, and these visitors. The man had brown skin, streaky gray hair, and brown eyes. He was the widest man Afra had ever seen, with forearms twice the size of his father’s, or even Stationmaster Hasardar’s.

“Thank you for explaining to me, Chief. It was kind of you,” Afra said, giving a respectful bow.

“No problem, lad. And here’s something for your trouble,” the chief said, reaching for Afra’s right hand and closing the fingers around a metallic object. “Put that by for a rainy day. If it rains on Capella.”

Afra looked at the round object, ’pathing from the chief that this was a half credit, a reward for delivering the package. He had never seen credit coins before, and he liked the feel of its edges in his palm. He gleaned from the chief that a “tip” was normal procedure, so he bowed again.

“Thank you, Chief. It was kind of you.”

“Tell you one thing, they teach manners on this planet,”
the chief said in a loud voice, trying to overwhelm the rude comments his crewmen were making about Afra’s courtesies.

Afra didn’t catch the meanings behind some of the strange words.

“Off you go, lad, before you become contaminated by this sorry lot of spacers. Ain’t any of you guys got some couth? Back inside, the lot of you. You’ve had your smoking time.”

As Afra trotted across the plascrete back to the Stationmaster, he decided that he wouldn’t tell anyone about the coin. It had been given him in return for completing his errand. It was for him, not Stationmaster Hasardar who had said nothing to him about collecting any sort of payment or to expect a tip. If Goswina had been home, he would have confided in her as a matter of course, but his other sisters considered him a nuisance, and his brother, Chostel, felt that he was too old to associate with kids. So Afra decided he didn’t need to say anything about his coin. He would save it, but not for a rainy day. When it rained on Capella, no one went anywhere.

This was yet another occasion when Afra found himself deprived by Goswina’s absence. And why, now that she had returned to Capella, that he simply had to renew contact as soon as he could. So, despite his mother’s stricture, he reached out his mind to his sister in the main Tower building.

Not now, Afra
, Capella said but not unkindly as his mind linked to Goswina’s in their conference mode.

Oh, mercy, Afra, not now
, was the simultaneous message from a mortified Goswina.

Fearful that his parents might receive official reprimands from the Prime herself, Afra shrank away and coiled so tightly into his own mind that he genuinely didn’t “hear” Goswina until she opened the door of their quarters an hour later.

OH, GOSSIE
, Afra cried, tears of joy streaming down his face, as he jumped into her arms.

Theirs was not a physically demonstrative family, as
much because they enjoyed a sufficient mental rapport that touch was redundant as because tactile contact between Talents allowed deeper readings, sometimes an inadvertent invasion of the private mind.

Today, Goswina ignored such considerations as she hugged her young brother tightly. Through that close contact, she also managed to convey many things such a reserved girl would find difficult to say out loud. Afra caught rapid shifts through scenes of her landing on Altair, the forested mountains behind the Port City, the raw look of the Altairian Tower, the faces of her fellow students in a hectic montage, with one face dominating the group, rapidly scrolling through schoolroom sessions, meals, the room Goswina had shared with two girls, then pausing at a musical interlude which was abruptly deleted, overlaid with her excitement at returning to the home she had missed, and her Vessily.

I missed you terribly, Afra.

More than you missed Vessily?

As much, though not quite the same way, Afra
, and Goswina’s gentle thought teased him.
But it was a splendid trip. I met so many marvelous people. And oh, Afra, how you’ll love the Rowan when you meet her. She said that she would consider you when you have finished your training, because you are my brother and because we two knew our temperaments weren’t complementary. But I told her that you would be because you’re so clever and understanding. I missed you terribly, Afra. Just wait ’til you see the trees they have on Altair. Whole forests of trees, darling . . . big trees and small ones, different shades of green and blue and many different shapes of trunk, branch, and leaf. All of them fragrant. Altair’s not as large as Capella, but it is a good place. I did so well in my course that Capella said that she will definitely place me in this system
, and, as she held Afra from her to peer into his face, “to work in a Capellan Tower.”

Did you
 . . .

“Aloud, please, Afra,” she said, hearing her mother come into the room.

“. . . know that Stationmaster Hasardar gave me some special training, after school hours? He said I had Tower potential, too!” He offered that praise as a homecoming present for her, but he didn’t mention the credit coin aloud. Or even in his mind.

“How very good of Hasardar. How clever of you, Afra dear,” she said, releasing him from her embrace and rising to greet her mother more formally. “Mother, Capella was very pleased both with my course of study on Altair and with the report Siglen of Altair sent her of me.”

Cheswina smoothed her daughter’s hair in a brief, loving gesture and smiled.

“You bring honor to our family.”

“Afra will bring more,” Goswina said, looking fondly down at him.

“That remains to be seen,” Cheswina said, her expression bordering on the severe, for she did not believe that it was right to praise a child for what he or she could be expected to do. Reward should never be a consideration of effort. However, Goswina did merit some special indulgence for having brought honor to the family, so her favorite dishes were served at dinner that evening and she’d be allowed a visit from Vessily Ogdon.

On returning from his Tower shift that evening, Gos Lyon smiled in benign approval at his daughter. When everyone had eaten a sufficiency of the excellent meal, he handed her an official note. He contained his pride as his overjoyed firstborn communicated to everyone at the table that Capella had appointed her to the staff of the southern Tower, one of the busier local FT&T facilities.

That means you’re going away again!
Afra cried out in distress.

Silly! I won’t be so far that we can’t keep in touch all the time.
“Forgive me, Father, Mother,” Goswina added hastily, blushing for such a gross social lapse, “but Afra was so disturbed . . .”

“Afra must learn to control his feelings,” Gos Lyon said, bending a stern gaze on his youngest. “Tower staff must always contain their emotions. To splash about personal
reactions exhibits a woeful absence of discipline and an abysmal lack of courtesy and consideration. I’ll have no child of mine so ill-mannered. One can never learn respect too early in life.”

Later, dear.
Goswina shot the very private thought tightly to her brother, so fast her parents would not have caught it, being less telepathically Talented than herself. But she had to do something to relieve the woeful expression on Afra’s face and unwind the tension of his small, thin body. Shriveled by the parental disapproval, he had curled in on himself, arms clasped tight across his chest, head down.

Prior to her course at Altair, she would never have dared even think of criticizing her parents. She didn’t entirely approve of Altair’s social manners but she had also seen a different sort of society that apparently worked quite well. And Afra was so very sensitive to his father’s disapproval and, sometimes, very privately, Goswina thought her parents could be a trifle more lenient and understanding. After all, he was the most Talented of them all and needed extra, specially astute handling.

“Now, now,” Gos Lyon said, realizing that perhaps he had been too severe with Afra, “I know you meant neither disrespect nor disobedience, Afra. Tonight is a time for rejoicing.”

His soft words and gentle tone, as well as the shaft of love and reassurance directed at his son, had the desired effect on Afra and he was soon smiling when Goswina began her almost day-by-day accounting of her Altairian sojourn.

Afra also “heard” unfinished sentiments and, once, caught her remembered alarm. He fervently hoped that her “later” would come soon so he’d find out all those bits and pieces she left out of the public recital.

“Later” was going to really be later, for Vessily Ogdon arrived at the door, on time as usual, palpably eager to see his betrothed. Afra didn’t like staying in the same room with Vessily and Goswina because he was acutely aware of their attachment. Since Vessily was a T-6 and even
older than Goswina, Afra thought that he ought to know how to control himself. He was amazed that his father didn’t say anything about leaking emotions to Vessily.

As Afra retired to his room, he heard the depth of Vessily’s discontent with Goswina’s posting to the Southern Station. But he heard Goswina’s telepathic reassurance—and Gos Lyon, who was chaperoning the couple, said nothing about
that!
Afra was also vexed to hear Goswina say exactly the same things to Vessily that she’d said to him—only her tone was much different.

Afra puzzled over that. How could the same words sound so different coming from the same mind? Goswina loved him, but he knew that she also loved Vessily. Afra understood that everyone should have love enough to give special friends, even many special friends. Goswina loved him and she had a special tone for him, but she also loved Vessily—and hadn’t wanted to leave Capella for Altair because of Vessily, or so she’d said out loud—and she had
another
special tone for Vessily. That was very strange, and Afra went to sleep pondering that mystery.

Goswina kept her word to him, even if “later” was the next morning at first light. He woke the moment he felt her mind brush his. Of course, she no longer slept in with him as she had when he was a baby, but her room was adjacent to his. As had long been their custom, he put his hand up on the wall that separated them, knowing that she did the same thing. Not that they needed contact, but it was a friendly remnant of childish habit.

What bothered you, Gossie, that you couldn’t tell Father and Mother?
He shot her a glimpse of the scene of her panicky flight to the parking lot.

Well, it wasn’t anything
 . . .

Huh? That’s not what you really think.

Well, one evening, we got permission to go to a concert in Altair Port.
She showed him a picture of them all driving off together, but she was still concealing something.
You don’t need to know every cross on the t’s and the dots on the i’s, Afra.

Sorry!

It’s just that Altairian concerts are different from ours. And I don’t mean the music they played. I mean, they have a much more . . . flamboyant way of performing.

How?
Since his encounter with the freighter chief, Afra had taken every opportunity his duties afforded him to meet other crews, with their variety of skin shades and physical attributes. He also liked hearing the different languages, and the odd things crews said from time to time, most of which he didn’t exactly understand. It was often hard to find someone willing to explain variations to his inquiring mind. Some Talents had a way of wriggling past public shields to the real truths, but he didn’t expect to be able to do that for some years to come. Now that Goswina was back, maybe she’d tell him. But he wouldn’t interrupt her with his questions now.