Damia's Children (28 page)

“Hell, man, why'nt you just 'port over to the Moon and get a good look at that ol' pod?” one of the mates asked.

Rojer grinned. “Rank has some privileges . . .”

“Rank?” the chief asked, his eyes widening.

“I'm a civilian after all,” Rojer said, deceptively meek.

“You're a good . . . guy,” the chief said and Rojer knew that he'd been about to say “kid” and Rojer grinned in appreciation.

“Wish you luck, chief. Maybe you'll get the next match!”

“For the honor of the
Beijing
!” Firr replied with a broad grin and held out his hand to Rojer.

Without hesitation Rojer took it, and knew that the chief had liked him for himself, and because he'd put a plug in that motor mouth of an ensign. He had to shake hands all round after that and did so, gathering the impression that, despite being a Talent and still downy cheeked, the crew liked him.

Almost more elated by that than the piecing,
Rojer went to join his father in the messroom. Gil and Kat asked to stay in the Cargo, just in case something else from their shared dream had results. When Rojer asked permission for the 'Dinis to stay behind, Chief Firr absently concurred: he was already collecting more rounded bits that might possibly add to Rojer's contribution.

As Rojer left, behind him was an excited buzz of folk given a positive stimulus to their avocation.

*   *   *

Captain Smelkoff joined them for breakfast, adding his own compliments for the join.

“On an extended mission like this, Rojer, this sort of preoccupation is invaluable and you've just added the impetus of success. Good morale booster. You two are quite a team. I liked that older boy of yours, Mister Lyon, didn't see enough of him. Real pleasure to have you aboard, and special thanks for importing those fresh supplies! Feed the crew well enough and they'll put up with a lot of privation.” Then the captain leaned toward Afra in a mock conspiratorial pose. “You couldn't leave this one behind for a while, could you? I guarantee I'd make a sailor of him!”

Afra grinned broadly. “Unfortunately, Captain, he's about to take up his own station.”

That was news to Rojer but, on the heels of that thought, he realized his father was courteously dissembling.

“Well, I'm sure he'll be a credit to you. A real credit.”

Rojer began to feel distinctly uncomfortable in the light of such effusive commendation. He knew he'd done a good job of what he was sent to do: he was delighted to have had a whole week on
board a mission vessel; he was elated to have matched artifacts, even if he wasn't the first to do so. That was almost a relief. But he had only been doing what he was trained to do, 'porting and interpreting 'Dini dreams.

How many of the others could have shared the same dream?
he asked his father as he ate in as self-effacing a manner as he could.

That
was
how it came to you then? It might be instructive to find out how many had similar dreams. The comm indicated diverse origins.

*   *   *

Rojer kept to himself, and from Gil and Kat, that there'd be a diversion to Callisto Station and a side trip to Heinlein Base. But that made it easier for him to say his farewells to Captain, Chiefs, crew and Ensign Bhuto who, for once, only grinned and let Rojer do the talking.

With the hatch closed, Rojer took a deep breath and stood behind his father's focus to “push” the carrier back to Callisto Station.

So my grandson has covered himself with glory, has he?
said his grandmother in a mood much different from the one he had overheard in the night.

Not especially, Grandmother
, Rojer said equably because he just
knew
she'd be waiting to jump on any pretensions.

Hmm. I'd say the mission did you a lot of good, young man. I hate a cocky boy!

When would one of us Lyons have a chance to learn to be cocky?

That's exactly what I meant. All right, get out of that spatial coffin and have a meal with me. I don't get the chance to see you often enough.

I'm stuffed with breakfast, thank you.
Hungry as he usually was, there was a limit to Rojer's capacity.

You'll stop then while I breakfast. Then you can take yourself to Heinlein Base. I can trust you to do that, can't I?

If Dad's too tired to
, Rojer said, wondering just how long last night's conversation had lasted.

I've an hour before Callisto clears.

Rojer caught his father's eye and grinned. They unstrapped, helped the 'Dinis out and took the path from the yard to the Rowan's house.

To Rojer's surprise, because he'd had no hint, Jeff Raven was also seated at the breakfast table and beckoned them enthusiastically to join him. Empty places were set for two more Humans and two 'Dinis.

“I add my compliments to all the others, Rojer,” his grandfather said.

“I'd like a kiss, Rojer,” the Rowan said.

That was the ultimate accolade and Rojer nearly stumbled on his way to his grandmother's side of the table. His mother had often said that her mother shamelessly cultivated her imperious pose. It certainly scared Rojer. But, keeping the thought scrupulously private, Rojer thought she was a very beautiful grandmother, with her striking mass of silvery hair, her small but delicately featured face—she was no taller now than his shoulder. She turned her cheek to him, held up one hand to encircle his head when he appeared to hesitate, and he kissed her.

What he had expected to feel he didn't know: what he got was unqualified approval and acceptance. Her cheek was smooth as a petal and her perfume was subtly but not sweetly floral.

Thanks, Grandmother
, he said gratefully.

That's the trouble with being Talented, Rojer. The ordinary human touches assume merits beyond their true status. That was a grandmotherly kiss of welcome after long absence: nothing more. But I
am
pleased with your performance. As deftly as ever I or your grandfather could do it. You deserve to see the thing if that's your desire.

Clearly the Rowan had no desire to view the escape pod, though that was all he sensed. No trace of her rancor and anger of last night was perceivable.

“Coffee or tea, Rojer?” she asked, gesturing him to take his place,
WERE YOUR DREAMS GOOD
? she asked Gil and Kat in clipped 'Dini accents as they took their stools.

VERY GOOD. WE FIT PIECES. NOT FIRST BUT FIRST FOR THE SHIP WHICH RESULTS IN MUCH EXCITEMENT AND PRAISE
, Gil replied.

“Ve virr plezz'd,” Kat added not to be outdone in the courtesy department. It had never had much luck with the “w” sound though Gil managed well enough. “Good fun to play Uman gamez.” Kat always leaned on the plural “s.”

A USEFUL GAME
, the Rowan replied though the word she employed to express game meant “well-spent free time.”

Rojer drank his coffee and found enough space for one of the delicious breakfast rolls that his grandmother said had been 'ported in only an hour before. His grandfather talked of the latest arrivals to the Denebian cousins and several recent pairings. He asked after Afra's nieces and nephews who, with Afra's adroit sponsorship, were finding positions in Talented businesses away
from Capeila. Rojer found the Capellan relatives dull—at least until they'd been off-world a while. Then they shed what his father called “methody” ways but not, fortunately, their early childhood training. If his Denebian cousins were wild, outspoken to a fault, his Capellan ones were too prim and restrained.

Certainly nothing more was said about the Hive vessel or the escape pod and the queen or other problems besetting either the Talented or the Alliance. Breakfast was conducted much as it was at his own home: pleasant, tension-free, easing into the stresses of a day.

Linking her arm through her husband's, the Rowan led the way back to the yard and the two personnel carriers cradled there. The smaller one was Jeff's and he'd 'port himself to the Blundell Tower which was the immense FT&T administrative headquarters on Earth.

Jeff and the Rowan saw Afra, Rojer, and the 'Dinis settled in their capsule.

Who's making the 'port?
the Rowan asked.

Rojer
, Afra replied, with a solemn wink at his son.

Catch the platform bay from my mind, Rojer. This is where you'll view that place.
She apotheosized “that place” in a dismissive tone but then he'd been forewarned of her attitude so he “looked” deeply and “saw” the area and the cradles available to visitors. The military police had their own docking facility.

Rojer could feel the Callisto generators picking up revolutions. He suppressed the slight nervousness he felt at performing the 'port in the presence of both grandparents but, if he was able, he was
able. And he'd do it. He did: the Heinlein Base vivid in his mind's eye.

Though, of course, he did not land
in
the Base: he set their carrier down in the orbiting platform that was held a hundred meters above. The platform looked like a quick assembly job and Rojer remembered to check the small panel of the carrier that monitored exterior conditions. There was plenty of air and the clatter of nailed boots on metal flooring as someone rushed to check on them.

Talents Afra and Rojer Lyon as expected
, his father both thought and said.

“Yes, sir, right on!” was the shouted acknowledgment. “I'll just open the hatch for you. Ladder's in place.”

They heard the scraping and the hatch opened.

Nice of you two to come
, said a second voice laughingly and Rojer recognized him as his cousin, Roddie Eagle.

His father gave him a stern look and Rojer made a grimace back, then smoothed his features. Roddie was welcome to guard duty if that's all he was good for.

Enough of that!
his father said on the very tightest beam.

Rojer rose, handing his 'Dinis out first so that he'd be sure not to “leak” his true feelings at encountering Roddie here. When he finally did make eye contact, he was rather surprised to see that scrawny, pimple-faced Roddie was a clean-shaven, fresh-faced young man of about his height, neatly dressed in an Alliance uniform and wearing the bars of a first marine lieutenant.

“I guess you all hadn't heard,” Roddie said,
smiling a welcome. “You've been away the past week. I can't say I like being constantly sting-pzzted all the time—not at the level that queen is projecting—but it's the place to meet
everyone
!” And he laughed.
GOOD DREAMS, GRL, KTG. RD SHARED YOUR DREAMS BUT NO PIECES
. “Real glad you succeeded, Roj. And boy, your placement of that pod was smack on the X-mark. Good 'portation! Got a bad case of family pride, I can tell you.”

Rojer was coping with the new improved Rhodri Eagle, so unlike his disagreeable adolescent self.

“We've breakfast laid on, Uncle Afra, Roj, if you're hungry.”

“Thank you, Rhodri,” Afra said with a nod, “but I don't think either of us could handle a third breakfast this morning.”

Roddie grinned affably. “Yes, that's one disadvantage to 'portation. You meet yourself coming and going, so to speak. This way. Getting here before breakfast . . .” and Roddie chuckled. His humor, Rojer decided, had not altered all that much: still heavy-handed. “. . . you've avoided the crowds. And we've had them. Thank you, sergeant,” he said to the man guarding the entrance to the main section of the platform. “They tell me we'll have more permanent quarters shortly. These are stripped down basic but they suffice.” Roddie led them down the corridor and Rojer noticed that all his baby fat had been converted to a trim muscular shape. He was, however, a finger or two the taller and that pleased him. “I'll take you right away to the main viewer room. It's got full screens of the Base. She won't be able to move anywhere
without observation. That is, if she ever comes out!”

“She's still alive?” Rojer asked.

“Oh yes. We've sensors on the hull, you know, and sounds are being picked up all the time. What she's doing with all those scratching and stroking noises we can't gather. Nothing we have will penetrate the hull. We did detect that she must have sampled the atmosphere. But that happened the end of the first day. Here we are!”

The large room they entered had a plasglas view plate from floor to ceiling directly aligned with the escape pod, a hundred meters below, but optically the glas was altered to produce a tri-d effect that made the observer feel he was no more than a few feet from the pod. Screens gave other views and an auxiliary tier of smaller screens would be activated when the queen exited the pod and began using the buildings.

“She appears to prefer a higher temperature than we Humans like though 'Dinis would be comfortable enough in 32 degrees Celsius. We've increased the ambient temperature in the Base. Blrg, the 'Dini specialist, hypothesized two days ago that she won't make a move until the pod's oxygen is exhausted. I kinda go along with that.” Roddie smiled modestly. “The pod would have had only so much oxygen even in that generous-sized lifeboat, for some of the cubic volume must be occupied by food and other necessities. At that you may be very lucky indeed. Three estimates for her to come out have already been passed: the experts favor her supply being exhausted some time today. Can you hang around?”

“We have time to hand,” Afra said to Rojer's intense delight.

It'd be awful, Rojer thought, to have had the chance to see her emerge and not be able to do so.

Not that your timing's been off at all this past week, Rojer. Except for hunting
, his father added privately.

Rojer 'pathed a repentant grimace. His cousin then showed them the amenities and facilities of the installation: they were sparse enough for the twenty men and three officers assigned here.