Damia's Children (34 page)

The outer planet was predictably a small cold hunk with a heavy core, then came a larger but equally sterile one, and the third was no more interesting though it had several moons. On his second foray, Rojer sent the first probe around the gas giant. It was not a ringed planet but it had twenty
moons and lots of debris, which interchanged when two or more moons were close enough to affect gravitational pulls. Rather a show for the astrogation officer, a very pretty woman named Langio, who was enchanted by the lunar dance. The fifth in was the largest, with awesome surface activity and again possessing a herd of moons: some of which had man-made ruins. Rojer was asked to take that probe in for closer examination. That suggested that the moon had been mined at one time.

The sixth planet displayed more extensive ruins, enough to suggest that it had once been habitable before its atmosphere had drained off and it had lost the necessary warmth from its cooling primary.

Captain Osullivan called a halt to Rojer's day then and told him to get some rest. Rojer was only too happy to comply. He was exceedingly tired and wished he hadn't been such a show-off. Prtglm's doubt had incensed him. He might still
be
considered a youngling by his own kind as well as 'Dinis but he was “a useful kid” and he wanted to prove he was.

*   *   *

When he reported to the Bridge the next day, all three captains were present again and their manner suggested they'd new plans for him.

“Mr. Lyon, we'd like you to send one probe to the Hive ship. We've been lucky that the outer planets do not have warning mechanisms on them but, if the seventh planet is Hive settled, Prtglm is confident that it
will
have monitors in space. Today let's scan the Hive ship.”

Rojer was quite willing to limit himself to the one “seeing” rock.

“Now,” said Lt. Commander Langio in her quiet voice, “we know the Hiver's present position, just past the eighth planet, but we don't dare risk extending our sensors that far to get you good definition.”

“I don't need it, Commander,” Rojer said easily. “Hive ships are always the same shape . . .”

“Not always same size,” Captain Prtglm added.

“True, but as there isn't but one out there, that isn't a consideration.” Rojer nodded to Commander Metrios who ceded control of the generators to Rojer so he could achieve the necessary gestalt. He'd seen where Langio had sited the Hive ship on the astrogation chart: he picked up the lumpy probe and 'ported it in a wide parabolic curve toward the Hiver.

The comm officer gave a grunt of surprise. “Getting readings,” Doplas said. “Can you hold it still a minute?”

Rojer obliged and then followed his directions so that, by the time he retrieved it, the probe had done several circumnavigations around the Hive ship without, apparently, alerting the ship to the probe's presence.

Rojer wasn't nearly as tired as he'd been yesterday but that brief hour's work now occupied every area of the
Genesee
and every specialist on all three ships of Squadron B. He was relegated to the sidelines which he tried to take philosophically. That lasted until dinner time when he was politely, if absently, asked to eat in the main mess hall. He didn't mind that because Gil and Kat kept him company. The food was nearly as good as he'd
gotten at the captain's table and there was not nearly so much formality. And a lot of the crew tried out their 'Dini on his pair . . . with often amusing results. Gil was particularly good with pronunciation problems but the methods by which it taught caused great hilarity and provided an interesting evening's entertainment for everyone. He was proud of his 'Dinis and told them so.

He was roused from a sound sleep by an irritating noise and finally realized that his communit was squawking for attention.

“Hmmm? Yes, whacha wan'?”

“Captain's compliments, Mr. Lyon, and can you come to the ready room immediately?”

Grumpily, Rojer obeyed but he didn't wake Gil and Kat. They were dead to the world. Someone should get a full night's rest. Although he was in officer territory, it was still a hike to the ready room. If he'd been wider awake, he'd've 'ported but a Talent never did that without full control of his faculties.

“Ah, there you are, Mr. Lyon,” the captain said when he arrived but there were scowls, an irritated
tlock
and snubbing switch of the upper torso by one of the younger 'Dini on Captain Prtglm's staff, as if he'd deliberately delayed his appearance. That they'd been up all night was obvious by the smell in the room, and the numbers of discarded mugs, half full of cold liquid, which orderlies were clearing away as well as serving fresh drinks to both Human and 'Dini. “I'm happy to say that your efforts bore extremely ripe fruit. There you are!”

On the big tactical screen Rojer sleepily noticed a Hive ship. Only something about it wasn't quite
right: it had colored marks all over it, different colored marks that hadn't been on the original scans.

“I'm not sure what I should be looking for, Captain,” Rojer said, too sleepy still to pretend to understand.

“You're looking at an unarmed Hiver, is what you're looking at, lad,” Commander Metrios said, smiling with tired triumph. “She's a new ship: not so much as a scratch on her hull. She's not on search or armed to invade. That's a colony world and she doesn't expect us. And it doesn't know we're on its doorstep.”

“Yes, sir,” Rojer willingly agreed, hoping that was all that was required of him.

“This time a Hiver will not escape,” Captain Prtglm said, and his body mirrored satisfaction and triumph.

“If she doesn't have weapons, she can't defend herself,” Rojer said blankly.

His comment caused all conversation in the big room to cease and he became the unhappy focus of every eye, especially big poll eyes.

“Where's the glory in attacking an unarmed ship?” he asked, looking directly at Captain Prtglm. The silence continued, but it had a different quality: a quality that made Rojer terribly uneasy. “You've a message you need me to send to the Alliance?” he went on, thinking that was why he had been sent for. The silence was almost deafening and he was too muddle-headed with sleep to be able to “read” the conflicting ones. “Or do you want another probe sent out?”

“A message and a probe, lad,” Captain Osullivan said and then signaled to one of the orderlies. “Some
coffee for Mr. Lyon, please. He'll need his wits about him.”

*   *   *

When Rojer settled in the couch on the bridge to 'path to Earth Prime, he heard and “felt” not so much animosity as cynicism and dislike: not outright hatred but definitely contempt.

What he did hear almost spoken aloud, the thought was so strong, was: “How can we be sure the kid'll send what's written?”

The captain handed him the message. “This must be transmitted verbatim, lad.”

“Sir,” and Rojer raised his voice so that he'd be heard across the wide room, “a Prime, which I am, has the duty to send what he is given to send and forget what he is not supposed to remember. I've been trained in Tower Ethics since I was old enough to use telepathy for distance speaking ten years ago. And that is why I was sent to serve on the
Genesee
, because I can 'path accurately over distance. When you're ready, Mr. Metrios, I'll need every erg those engines can give me right now.”

To be sure he had made his point, he read the message in a low voice that would be audible to the captain, Commander Metrios and the comm officer so that they'd know he had sent what he was asked to send and without comment. He kept his mental tone even and bland but inadvertently he caught his breath as he felt his grandfather's touch: clear despite the distance involved.

That's some report, Roj. You been stirring things up?

Me, sir? No, sir.

Jeff Raven had not held his important position as Earth Prime and the strongest T-1 in the Nine Star League without sensing what sometimes was
not 'pathed. He altered his voice after his official acknowledgment of the communique to a less formal tone.

Giving you a bit of a rough time, huh, Roj?
He was sympathetic but bracing.

Nothing I can't handle, Granddad. I guess I'm just not used to naval ways.

There'll be a reply to this, I'm sure, Rojer. Let's set an arbitrary time every hour on the hour for reply. That'll make it a tad easier on you. What is your current time?

Rojer looked up at the digital and told his grandfather the ship's time: 0505. Then, out loud, he added, “The message has been acknowledged at 0933 Earth time, Captain, and has already been forwarded to the High Councils. Earth Prime asks me to be ready to receive a message every hour on the hour: or 0600 ship's time.” He slipped out of the couch, making himself straighten up. “If you don't need me now, sir, I'll get back to my 'Dinis. If they wake and find me gone, they won't know where to find me.”

Rather awkwardly, Captain Osullivan gave him a pat on the back. “Do that, lad. Do just that.”

*   *   *

The fourth time Rojer arrived on the bridge for the appointed hour, to his immense relief, he “heard” his grandfather's alert.

“The generators, please, Commander,” he said, nodding to Metrios. He lay back and let the gestalt extend his range. He also pushed down all the negative feelings he'd been subjected to during the last four hours. Hell, he was only a kid. Why was he getting the stick? It's not as if he could
warn
the Hivers. Or even wanted to. If only he'd been more
awake, he would have sensed the vibes in the room and kept his mouth shut. No one here could tell what he was thinking. Were these some of the reactions his parents and grandparents had had to deal with when they were among the unTalented?

That message put the cat among the pigeons, lad
, his grandfather said, chuckling.
Here are their orders. Repeat mentally and vocally after me. There must be no misunderstanding.
Rojer said that much aloud.
To Captain Etienne Osullivan, aboard the
AS Genesee
in response to telepathed message received 0933 this date by Earth Prime. Reply 1300 hours precisely from Earth Prime Raven to Aurigaen Prime Lyon. Message reads: No action is to be taken against unarmed ship. No action must arouse the suspicions of the colony world that it has been penetrated. If squadron can launch additional reconnaissance units of the new type, details of the inhabited planets and moons would be of inestimable value in formulating strategy. Repeat, further reconnaissance may only be undertaken if there is no risk of disclosing Alliance presence in the system. When the reconnaissance is completed, or risk of discovery imminent, Squadron B is to retreat behind heliopause, maintaining discreet surveillance of system. Do not, repeat, do not engage enemy. This is by order of the High Councils of the Alliance. Gktmglnt and Admiral Tohl Mekturian presiding. End of signal. Earth Prime Raven sending.

Aurigaen Lyon receiving at Earth time 1300:10.90 and acknowledging.

Well done, lad.

I'll hope they think so, Granddad.

They will. And you are entitled to call yourself Prime, you know, since you're doing the work of one.
That was delivered in a firm admonitory tone
which made Rojer wriggle a little in pride. Grandfather would not have said something like that if he didn't mean it. Then his voice took on its “official” tone.
A message capsule has also been dispatched. That's what took so long, getting it written down. Naval types! Get ready to catch it. Confirmation of the message, signed, sealed and pick it up for delivery . . . Now!

“A message capsule's on its way, Commander,” Rojer said, sitting up and gesturing for Metrios to keep the generators up to peak. “It's coming in now.” And the slim message tube dropped the last inch onto the carpeted floor by the captain's feet. Rojer grimaced, wishing that he had managed an absolutely perfect landing. “This way, sir, you know no one's been able to tamper with it.”

Someone, somewhere on the bridge, gave a low whistle. The security officer glared around but the culprit was not identified.

Captain Osullivan pressed his thumb to the seal of the tube and it obligingly popped its lid, the rolled sheaf extruding. The captain opened it, scanned it, and grunted. “Good transmission, lad. Every comma and dot in place.” He handed the flimsy to the comm officer. “Send a coded fax to the
Arapahoe
and the KTTS, for captains' eyes only.” He was silent a moment, looking at the forward screens and the distant glow of the G-type star. None of the planets that Rojer had sent probes to were visible, just a tight pattern of winking stars of all kinds. “Mr. Lyon, have you had lunch?”

Rojer shook his head, unable to say that he'd gone to the mess room but the moment he'd been
seen, the place had gone very quiet. He'd left, his 'Dinis
tlocking
in distress behind him.

“Then it's high time you did eat. We need your particular Talents again and we must be extremely delicate in our investigations. Engineering, security, astrogation, exec, join us in the ready room. And Doplas, inform Captains Quacho and Prtglm that we'd like them to join us if they'd signal the time to be 'ported over after lunch.”