Damia's Children (13 page)

Relieved to hear that “sir,” Thian took the companionway steps, two at a time, noting an odd expression on the ensign's face as he reached the top.

“This panel?” he asked and the lieutenant nodded, half closing his eyes as he did so. There was some quality about the man's faint grin that gave
Thian pause: he was likely one of those who resented Talent on the general principle that they didn't have any. This was the auxiliary access to engineering, but beside it was the clearly marked communit. He might have breached protocol on his arrival, but he didn't intend to continue now the immediate emergency had passed. He depressed the open channel toggle. “Commander Tikele,” he said in as firm but respectful tone as he could muster. And felt a shaft of irritation.

“Prime Thian, back again?”

“Sir, permission to access the generators to return Medic Sblpk to its ship.”

“Ssssbil . . . what?”

Thian repeated the consonants as glibly as if he hadn't any trouble manipulating his tongue through them. “The medic has diagnosed and provided treatment for the ill member of my group. It wishes to return.”

“That was quick. The generators are yours, Prime, work away.”

Thian caught the pulse of the engines, pressed against them and lightly “lifted” Sbl's capsule back to its own ship, laying it so gently down that he hoped Sbl would not realize that it had been teleported. He'd had to use more power for the return, which annoyed him, but who else would know?

“Thank you, Commander,” he said.

“Ah, Prime Lyon?” Tikele began. “Ah, the captain wishes to see you in his ready room. And, ah, Mr. Sedallia, please assign a guide to the Prime?”

“Aye, sir.” And the look the lieutenant then turned on Thian was so neutral it bordered suppressed hostility.

“I really don't just 'port about places, lieutenant.”

“Couldn't prove it by me. . . . sir,” and Thian caught just a hint of resentment before Sedallia grinned. “Greene, escort Prime Lyon to the captain's ready room.”

Halfway there, Thian found the uninhibited thoughts of the seaman unbearably depressing. Not only did Greene treasure the thought that this
civilian
(an epithet by tone) was going to get reamed by the captain, which he justly deserved in Greene's opinion, but it was just as well that a weasel lover wasn't going to be long aboard the
Vadim.
Bad enough to have the critters in the squadron and have to share possible glory with 'em, but to have 'em on board, all the time, with their smell and that queer mid-head eye cocked at you all the time, why it was enough to turn a man's stomach! Greene sure wished that he could be the proverbial insect on the wall of the captain's ready room. Ten to one, the guy'd get sent back in disgrace and the ship'd just have to make do with what it had on board, after all. Some inconveniences were just not worth the fuel it took to correct 'em. This cloudhead was really in for it. Greene wished now that he'd laid a stake on how long this Prime would last on board the
Vadim.

Greene wheeled smartly at the door to the captain's ready room and rapped twice.

Disregarding Talent protocol, too (in for a half-credit, in for it all), Thian reached out to the captain now sitting behind his desk, both hands flat on its surface, awaiting the interview. He might as well know how to frame his responses. Thian caught a brief echo of another mind before he was
thwarted by the captain's natural shield, now firmly in place in anticipation of an interview with a Prime Talent. Withdrawing instantly, for fear the man might be aware of the attempt, Thian gave a convulsive shudder. Fortunately, Greene was busy opening the door and didn't see it.

There was that about the captain's posture that told Thian that Ashiant was totally relaxed. Was he, too, looking forward to the dressing down he was going to give this . . . this
civilian?

“That's all, thank you, Greene,” the captain said and nodded for the seaman to retire. “Return to duty.”

The man silently swore as he closed the door behind him.

“Commander Exeter tells me your . . . ah, companion will survive this . . . ah allergic reaction,” the captain began with what Thian decided was a cunningly bland tone.

He'll come down on me like a big daddy once he's softened me up, Thian thought and tried to relax, matching the captain's urbane air. He could be no worse than Grandmother in her Tower mode. Could he?

“They did the courtesy of sending a very senior medical officer, Captain Ashiant,” Thian said, moving forward to take the seat the captain indicated. Well, it won't be right now if he's letting me sit.

“So Exeter said, and left chemical formulae for future reference. Good idea, that. Fleet Command keeps sending us bursts of information but it's not always what we need, or what we can profitably use. I dare say you'd be able to explain it.”

“My pleasure, I assure you,” Thian said, steeling himself against the inevitable storm.

“You'd have no objections to sharing explanations?”

“Me? No, why would I, sir? The 'Dinis are open in their admiration of Human achievements, and I think they've a few we could profit from.”

“Do you now?”

Thian rebuked himself for being so cocksure but nervousness, the knowledge that he'd already bungled his first moments aboard, made him babble so inanely. If only he knew whether the captain was pro- or anti-Talent. Or 'Dini.

“Such as?”

Well, go for broke, Thi boy, he told himself. “Such as their air purification systems.”

“Really?” And the captain's heavily marked eyebrows rose.

Just then Thian felt something soft brush his hand. As unexpected as it was, the touch was so familiar that he automatically put his hand down to caress the animal that had somehow got in the captain's ready room.

“Hello there,” Thian said in another almost automatic response to the presence of a known and friendly entity. Then he blinked in utter astonishment. “You've got a barque-cat!” he exclaimed in surprise and awe, his hand poised to complete a stroke.

The cat raised her front paws off the ground, imperiously butting her head at his hand to continue the caress which he hastily completed. She was a magnificently marked tri-color with a white muzzle, white socks all round, and a tiny puff of white on the tip of her tail. She was also very
pregnant and nearly overbalanced. He put a deft hand under her barrel to support her and felt a rumbling purr vibrating through her gravid body.

“What's her lineage, captain? She's gorgeous. I've only seen one other tri-color and little Zsa Zsa isn't a patch on this one.”

“Princess Zsa Zsa of the
Trebizond?
” Ashiant asked, watching as the cat continued to push herself against Thian's leg and hand.

“That's the one. She never threw any tri-colors that I heard about.”

“No, she hasn't but not for want of the
Treb
's crew trying,” the captain said with a snort. “They even asked for the service of our tom. They got marmalades and even a tabby but no tri-colors, or females for that matter.”

“Who is your beauty? Whoops, easy there, missus,” Thian said when the cat, despite her bulkiness, leaped into his lap and began circling to settle.

“I've never seen Tab do that before,” and the captain sounded slightly offended.

That's all I needed, Thian thought, closing his eyes briefly, not only against the sudden kneading of Tab's claws in his leg but also because no crew liked to see their barque-cat display affection to, or even interest in, newcomers.

“I'm sorry about this, too, sir,” Thian said, lifting his hands up and down, wanting to pet her because one was always polite to a barque-cat but not wanting to further offend the captain of her ship.

“You do seem to have a way of relieving the tedium of a long voyage, Prime!” And when Thian stared at him in surprise, he added, “Oh, pet her
before she makes ribbons of your leg. She's insatiable for attention when she's gravid. Now, where were we?”

“I think you were about to tell me off for my antics today . . .”

“I was?” The captain's eyebrows once again raised up in feigned surprise. “You know that for certain . . . Prime?” There was a delicate pause before the last word.

“Sir, you must know that with a shield as tight as yours I couldn't get a trace of your feelings about my . . . unorthodox behavior. Which,” and Thian lifted a hand in apology, “is as good as admitting that I tried, I know, though ethics do inhibit me from reading past the public mind unless given explicit permission. But with so much at stake . . .”

“Indeed there is, young Lyon,” Ashiant said, leaning back in his chair as he watched the cat lower her head to her paws on Thian's lap, “which is why I will ask you from now on to stick to the normal procedures whenever possible. You acted with promptness—if in a most unusual manner—in a situation that could have had tragic results. I see, however, that your . . . ah . . . skills will be more extensive than I had been led to believe. I feel much better about communications already after your exercise of 'Dini today.

“First I'll discuss with you the duties which Earth Prime felt you would be able to perform to ease the discomforts of this long voyage.” He held up strong thick fingers, ticking off the responsibilities one by one. “All interracial ship communications, which in all honesty have been damned sparse and misunderstood so far; all necessary
transportation between ships in this squadron; receipt and dispatch of all capsules, drones, and personnel; instruction for all officers in basic 'Dini. Among us we've only enough to express ‘stop,' ‘go,' ‘port,' ‘starboard,' and ‘attack imminent: yellow and red alert.'” His eyebrows did a roller-coaster effect of disgusted dismay at such paucity. He waited significantly until Thian nodded hurriedly in acceptance. “I've a list,” and he passed over a comreader pencil file, “of all those on board who've tested Talented. Not many but I'm told that their abilities can augment yours in an emergency . . .” Ashiant paused again, eyebrows raised at Thian.

“I'll try to announce emergencies whenever possible, Captain,” he said meekly.

“Emergencies never announce themselves beforehand, Prime,” Ashiant said, his sentence a long sigh of resignation. “However, you
will
discuss what might be demanded of them, preferably singly as what you have in your hand is exceedingly top secret,” and Thian quickly shoved the file into his breast pocket, pressing the closing tab tight. “We have, unfortunately, found that those with minor Talent are disadvantaged by it so, unless those on board have discovered each other by chance, they're unknown to each other. But it's nice to have a back-up system . . .” Thian thought his parents and grandparents would have strangled to be termed a “back-up” system but Ashiant was only repeating what was a common attitude among non-Talented. “Introduce yourself so you can be tuned, or primed, or whatever for whatever code or method you use to do whatever it is you Primes do.” He made circles with one hand to indicate
either indifference or ignorance. Then he leaned forward and lowered his voice. “Thian Lyon, I'm the only one on board who knows your chronological age. That white lock doesn't wash out, does it? No?” The captain nodded when Thian murmured that it was a genetic attribute. “But Jeff Raven assured me that you've had excellent training and sufficient solo operations to handle your various duties. After today's exhibition, I think you do, too.”

Astounded, Thian stared back at the captain.

“Now, what's this about air purification? We've been sucking this smog so long we don't smell it anymore, even if half the time we can almost chew it. Small wonder your 'Dini couldn't breathe.”

Still stroking Tab, Thian hitched himself more upright in the chair and began to explain about the 'Dini vegetation used to purify the air on their long-voyage ships. Although Human life support systems were more than adequate for the usual duration of voyages, even those not assisted by Talent thrusts, this long cruise had obviously taxed the system.

“Now I understand,” Ashiant said, leaning back and swiveling idly in his chair. “The KLTL 'Dini offered me some plants after our last conference. Didn't realize how significant that offer was.”

“How would you know? You didn't, by any chance,
dream
about plants the next couple of nights?”

Ashiant stared at him, his brows nearly meeting over the bridge of his fleshy nose. “I did! Thought it odd because I dreamed there were these big
leaved pots all over the ship, and everyone was smiling like loons.”

Thian grinned. “You did know that 'Dinis use dreams as communications?”

“Yes, I'd heard that, but dreaming plants? C'mon now, Prime, that's too exotic for this mother's son.”

“I also interpret 'Dini dreams—if you get any more, sir. Strictly top secret,” Thian said, hoping he hadn't misjudged the captain's humor.

He hadn't for Ashiant roared with laughter. “Never thought I'd have a 'Dini dream. Not that sort of temperament.”

“Temperament has little to do with receipt of 'Dini dreams, sir. You learn to respect repetitions because that's what they want you to ask about.”

“Oh, do they so? Hmmm.”

The upshot of that interview was that Thian made a second contact with the KLTL, conversing this time with their life support systems officer and discovering that yes, there were available
sgit
plant shoots that could be spared and possibly more from their sister ship in the squadron, the KLTS. An improvement would not be immediately noticeable, depending on how long the overuse of the oxygen had been but a gradual betterment would occur.
Sgit
plants grew rapidly and had to be constantly separated, which was all to the good for an air improvement system. If there were sufficient shoots, pots of them could also be put about in cabins or larger facilities and assist local improvements. Leaves and stalks of young plants were edible.