Damia's Children (24 page)

It's good practice for a developing Prime
, his father said, permitting a little pride to read in the thought.
Linking minds as well as 'porting masses.

'Porting all the time is booooooring.
As soon as the thought crossed his mind, Rojer regretted it.

And spending hours contemplating bits and pieces is not?
Afra gave a good-natured snort.

Rojer answered that with a sniff.
Not the same thing at all, Dad. Link, grip, lift, push!
That's
boring. We're never allowed to hang about and listen to what the other Primes tell you because
, and here Rojer allowed his disgust to color his tone,
we're too young!

The time of being too young is so short, my son.

The wistful note in his father's mind surprised Rojer and he glanced at Afra. Suddenly his father smiled and Rojer answered because they both realized that he didn't have to look so far
up
any longer. They were nearly of a height.

Yes, Rojer, the time of being young is very short. There are very few months left when you may indulge your enthusiasms.

But, Dad, haven't there been engineering Primes?

The critical need for FT&T right now is for Talents able to handle the responsibilities of a Tower.

Or a ship? Like Thian?
That prospect did excite Rojer.
Dad, couldn't I at least ship out?

Because Thian has?
Afra smiled without rancor
for Rojer adored his older brother and, most of the time, chose to emulate his example.
That is not up to either your mother or me.

Wouldn't you at least
ask
Grandfather?

Afra placed his arm gently across his son's shoulders: broad enough already and certainly strongly muscled.

Your grandfather is aware of every facet of your training, abilities, and yes, your wishes. I will not say we have to transcend personal preferences right now
 . . .

You just said it anyway
, but Rojer grinned at his father.
And I know my duty!

Afra heard the resignation in that and wished that Rojer were as pliant as his older sister and brother, as enthusiastic about the shape of his future as they had been. He also remembered how rebellious he had been at Rojer's age but, he devoutly hoped, without the same cause. As much as they could within the framework of their contracts with Federal Teleport and Telepath, they tried to prevent their children from feeling trapped by their Talent. They'd sent their children to other planets—Deneb, Earth, Altair, and once even Capella though that was not a successful visit—to broaden their outlooks and perspectives. The service of FT&T was not without its prerogatives which—most of the time—made up for the responsibilities. He must have a few words with Jeff, to be sure that the head of FT&T was fully aware of Rojer's mechanical aptitude and interest. Or perhaps a word with Gollee Gren—who was head of Placement and Training—might be more fruitful.

Aromatic odors wafted on the soft evening
breeze and both men and 'Dini increased the speed of their strides.

“I'll tell you this but once, Rojer,” Afra said sternly as they hurried up the terrace steps to the house, “you hunt next, by yourself, on Thursday, and if you forget, you'll not only get no supper of any kind, but you're sequestered!”

“Yes, Dad,” Rojer agreed meekly because that was fair. Zara hated to hunt—she was really so sensitive an empath that she could not accept the necessity of killing for food. Good thing she had gone with Morag who had no such compunctions and had developed into the best shot in the household. But she shouldn't have to do all the hunting: that wasn't fair either. But he had been so sure that he'd find the match the very next minute . . .

WE ALL GO. WE FIND MUCH TO EAT
, Gil said earnestly, tugging on Afra's fingers.

Afra squeezed once in acknowledgment and then pushed open the door into his home, always aware of his great satisfaction in being
here!

You're in good time!
“Wash!” Damia said, scowling at the state of her third child and his 'Dinis and pointing a slender but stern finger toward the washroom.

Zara was coming down the back stairs as Rojer entered the washroom and she gave him a look of such deep reproach that he knew his hunch had been right. Morag, not at all sensitive when the quantity of food on her daily plate might be reduced, came clattering down and grinned when she saw him.

You're in deep kimchee. I called! I called good and loud!

“From where? The hillside?” Rojer asked because
he knew how fond Morag was of hunting. And to be out as hunt-leader would have pleased her no end.

He ignored both sisters then and scrubbed diligently at his greasy hands and arms, right up to the elbow. No sense being sent back for another scrub like Ewain always was: not when dinner smelled as good as that. Then he helped Gil and Kat get their arm pelts dry. They didn't like to have their fur back-rubbed but it was the only way to blot the moisture sufficiently to stop itch.

It was a good supper: a stir-fry with the greens chopped fine and cooked crisp in fat. There were enough greens to satisfy him and Gil who were particularly fond of them done that way.

Mother was just about to serve the sweet course when she jerked erect and the “look” crossed her face. She whirled, gesturing for all of them to link with her. It was now such a reflex action that they were linked before the second word in Damia's mind.

Recognizing his grandfather's voice, and the tone in which the news was couched, Rojer's eyes widened in reaction.

. . . best possible news has come through from the
Beijing
of its pursuit of the Hive escape pod: it has been found with its occupants alive.

Soundlessly Rojer mouthed “Wow”: a sentiment which certainly his parents shared, judging by their jubilant expressions.

Jeff Raven's mind touch relaxed as he continued.
Evidently very much alive and the
Beijing
captain says that he has grave doubts of how to contain the occupants if they break through the seal they managed to affix to the main hatch of the pod. He recommends
immediate transfer to reinforced accommodations. That means Talented help on the spot. The mass is such that I'd not risk collecting it myself.

You wouldn't DO it by yourself, Jeff Raven
, said the unmistakable voice of the Rowan.

Rojer noticed Morag's grin and signaled her to clear her expression. Grandmother wasn't being funny.

Where's the pod right now?
Damia asked.

When Smelkoff realized that the hatch might be opened, he put the pod off the ship, on tow. He couldn't risk it staying on the
Beijing,
even if they evacuated the air in the shuttle bay. Damned awkward that Thian's so far away, on board the KLTL. Ah
 . . . Jeff began.

Rojer saw his mother's eyes flash.

Father!

Actually, my dear, I was wondering if I could borrow Afra and young Rojer
 . . .

Rojer's only fifteen
 . . .

Dad and I fling big daddies about all the time, Mom
, Rojer cried though he knew he oughtn't to interrupt.

Dad
 . . . Damia began again.

They all heard Jeff's sigh. Rojer thought his grandfather had a real good repertoire of expressive sighs, though he dared not think that very loudly.

Afra and Rojer have already teamed up on many occasions when you were unavailable, Damia. This is a one-shot affair. We'll get them out to the
Beijing.
They've the experience required from shifting so many drones from the mine yards so the pod being on tow won't be a problem, once they can see it. Captain Smelkoff has estimated the mass and volume involved
which
is
no more than both have handled easily. Afra will handle the focus, if that's what's bothering you. But we've got to get that thing in a secure installation as soon as possible.

Then Rojer saw his mother narrow her eyes in a way he knew that would exclude him from hearing what she said on a very tight personal mental shaft to his grandfather and he
knew
he was going to be left out of the fun things.
Why
hadn't he remembered to hunt today? It wasn't fair, because he
was
a T-1, just too young for Tower responsibility as yet even if he
could
do everything on his own . . . especially with his father. They really linked well, better than he could with his mother, or even with both parents during very sustained heavy 'ports.

Afra leaned forward across the table, lightly tapping his wife's hand and she turned to make eye contact. Rojer held his breath, wanting to be bold enough to “peek” at what was being said, but knowing that would be the death of any chance he had. Surely his father was arguing that he ought to have this chance . . .

In the hour, then, and thank you, Damia. Once again, you're decorating the family crown with the jewels of your womb!

DAD!

Rojer couldn't help grinning because his grandfather had meant him to
know
that he'd get this splendid chance to see some action! Then he caught how thin his mother's lips were and saw the anger in her eyes.

Oh, pleeeeeeassssse, he said, shutting his eyes so he wouldn't see any other negative signs.

Oh, open your eyes, Rojer. Wiser heads than mine
have prevailed
, his mother said, her tone caustic, but when he dared look in her direction, she had just the slightest hint of a smile. I
think you're too young but my father and yours believe you're not!
She cocked one eyebrow up—in challenge—and he grinned back at her.

“In an hour, Mother?” Rojer was so excited he could barely enunciate the words.

“You're going to let Roj go?” Zara asked, incredulous with eyes wide as saucers.

Damia cleared her throat. “He won't be gone
long
, Zara,” she said firmly and shot Rojer a reproving glance for he was jumping up and down in his chair.

WE GO TO THE
BEIJING
,
TO THE SHIP, TO SEE THE QUEEN
, he told his 'Dinis who began hooting and whistling. That set off all the rest of the young 'Dinis—with the exception of Gil and Kat who were so astonished at their good fortune that they had covered their poll eyes.

It took all the adults, and some loud crackling from Fok and Tri, to reduce the noise level. Then Damia called her dinner table to order.

“You'll need all your dinner for a stunt like this,” she said and served Rojer first.

It happened to be his favorite fruit pie. He'd finished up his portion when Zara dumped half of hers on his plate: her manner so mournful that she must think he was going to his death or something.

Sweetie, don't be sad! I
want
to go
, he said, cuddling his sister because he could never bear for Zara to be anything but happy and carefree. She never whined but oh, could she look pathetic! Not
even Mother could withstand a truly unhappy Zara.

Morag, on the other hand, was frankly envious of his assignment and Rojer hoped that this would settle her down when she had to be in a Tower link. Kaltia, Ewain, and Petra were still much too young to do more than exercise around the house and grounds. But Morag was twelve and a good strong Talent, probably Prime stuff—if she'd ever work at it.

Who was he to talk?

That's right, son
, his father said unexpectedly and Rojer grimaced, hoping Dad hadn't “heard” much. Dad just didn't violate privacy. He had wanted to get his attention.
If you've finished eating, we've some details to go over, and listen for. They're still deciding where to plonk the pod down.

I'll just bet they are!
Rojer still couldn't believe his good fortune. Going on such a trip and with his dad! Then he saw his mother's unqualified smile of approval and grinned back.
You'll see, Mom. We'll make 'em all notice Iota Aurigae!

Damia was still smiling but she said,
I'd rather the operation went so smoothly, no one noticed!

Damia, love, he's fifteen and this is glory!

You got it, Dad!
And Rojer gave the all-ahead-go signal.

“You'll need ship suits and they're packed away,” Damia said, leaving the table to go to the storeroom.

Is she really angry?
Rojer asked his father as softly as he could while he pretended to finish scraping his dessert plate.

Not angry, son, not angry at you. You're all growing up too fast for her.
The proud look Afra gave his son
made him feel as if he could lick a Hiver queen single-handedly.

I don't believe that will be necessary
, his grandfather's voice said gently in his head.
Please listen, Rojer!

Right and tight, sir!

Then his parents added their touch to his and he knew this was a
Talent business.
He sat up straight in his chair and, putting a hand on each of his 'Dinis, made them stop their wriggling.

An old installation of Earth's moon is available as security quarters for the queen and whatever else occupies that pod. I've just lifted a probe with all necessary placement pictures to the
Beijing
and Captain Smelkoff will be fully briefed and is expecting you. Your grandmother and I will 'port your carrier to the
Beijing . . .

The very best handling
, added his grandmother's unmistakable voice at its driest.

Rojer didn't dare even say “hello”—this was business.

This is where you'll be setting the pod down
, and Rojer's mind was flooded with details that instantly organized themselves into a coherent vision of moonscape, a dome, with blocky buildings under secondary domes. The place slightly resembled Callisto Tower compound in that it was protected from the vacuum by main and auxiliary domes. It was bleak, whereas Callisto was bright and colorful. The viewpoint altered while his grandfather continued to explain the internment site.