Damia's Children (35 page)

O
F all her relatives, only her great-grandmother Isthia proved truly understanding of what became known as Zara's Antic. Granny Isthia had raised one beautifully arched eyebrow and said “You do teach them that where there's a will there's a way! If they implement their teachings, don't fuss.”

Even her father, who was the most understanding kind of dad you could want, had replied, “What if she'd been killed?”

“She's half Denebian. We're born survivors!” was Isthia's imperious reply to that.

Zara had actually put a lot of time and thought into how to achieve her end. The will to the way was also well researched. Eventually her mother gave her credit for that. What really incensed Grandmother Raven had been Zara's shameless and often unethical use of her Talent. The redeeming
part of that was that Zara had not abused or misused anyone or more than bent a few laws.

For days after Rojer left—and the nights in which Zara had had horrible nightmares all involving him in lethal situations—Zara had alternated queen watching with her planning. Ever since hatching, the queen had been stationary. You couldn't call the use of one palp to draw food to her mouth “activity” though she did that from time to time. Roddie had deftly replaced foods by the one palp used and put more enticing offerings near the other forward limb. She stayed where she was, her hind end in the mound of mixed shavings and eggs.

A theory was now circulating that this species of orthopterus might require a male fertilization of the eggs after laying, not before. There was endless discussion on the merits of every theory put forth: sometimes rather loud and furious debates in which speakers lost their temper with colleagues in other camps.

These discussions did more to make Zara's mind up than deter her from her wild scheme for it became painfully obvious that no one KNEW what to do for the queen. Something would have to be DONE soon or Zara was afraid she'd be lost. She was sure
she
would know if she could only get close enough to “sense” the need. Roddie was doing as well as a male could be expected to do. But the Hive queen was female. It had been females like her great-grandmother Isthia and her great-aunts, Besseva and Rakella, who had “heard” the Hive response to the arbitrary return of the one scout to survive the Rowan-Raven Repulsion above Deneb. And that act had brought
the great ship to Deneb to be vanquished in Deneb's hot sun. That was, of course, before the Mrdini had made contact with Humans: in fact it was
why
'Dinis had made contact with Humans. But that didn't exactly exonerate either from current actions in Zara's estimation.

The only female on the Observation Module was the non-empathic Captain Waygella. Why under the suns hadn't either her grandfather or grandmother thought of putting a Talented empath on board that Module?

They hadn't. She
had
to supply the need.

That took timing as well as planning for although there was a lot of FT&T traffic out of Aurigae, not as much as served her purpose went to either Earth or even Callisto. That's where she had to be unethical . . . listening in to 'pathed messages to keep informed of what shipments might be made to either Earth or Callisto. She'd secreted in her own room a breathing unit in case she was obliged to go by carrier drone, and a comfortable padded blanket. She'd her traveling clothes ready and a small sac of necessities, including travel food for they used such bars on longer hunting and camping trips. Her 'Dinis, Pol and Diz, were in hibernation which solved that problem. Not that she couldn't keep things from them but it would be unfair of her to seem to desert them for no reason she could explain beforehand.

Time got shorter. The queen seemed enfeebled; nothing could tempt her to eat more than a few mouthfuls and the intervals between these were increasing.

Zara overheard her parents talking about Rojer on board the
Genesee.
Until he'd managed to get
some new sort of probe around the inhabited planet of the Hive colony, he'd had some sort of problem on board. Served him right, she thought disloyally, when he was actively participating in the destruction of a species. And people said the Hivers were predatory, merciless, and ruthless. She was even pleased to hear—and certainly did not form part of the majority—that this colony world was swarming with all kinds of Hive life, with well developed defenses, and hundreds of satellites and large ships orbiting. Evidence suggested that the Hivers were even readying for more exploratory voyages. That was, of course, what they did, according to the 'Dini. When a world became too populated, that meant too many queens; a ship was provisioned with excess queens and sent forth to find its own world.

Would that procedure alter when the unarmed homeworld Hive ship arrived to tell the colony of the nova, and the destruction of their original system? Many thought it would cause chaos in every one of the Hive worlds. Maybe even, the incurable optimists suggested, curtail their explorations while they established a new homeworld. Others were certain that it wouldn't even give the living Hivers a moment's pause.

There was speculation over what would happen if the Hive worlds knew a queen was held prisoner on Earth. Since it was unlikely that even the B Squadron's quarry would know that the biggest ever Hive ship had been destroyed, why would they care?

Which made this lone queen's life even more important to Zara.

Miner Representative Mexalgo approached Aurigae Tower for transport to Earth for an important meeting of the Federated Nine Star Miners and Metallurgists Association. That was Zara's chance for Mexalgo was a large man, nearly two meters tall and close to a hundred and ten kilos. He wouldn't fit in the usual single carrier. A double was allotted him. He also had some alloy samples he wanted to bring with him. Zara nearly yodeled with delight. She was so slight in build that she wouldn't cause an imbalance, especially if she “lifted” herself. And she was small enough so that she could fit under the second padded couch, with a dark blanket covering her from Mexalgo's notice.

And, when the double carrier was cradled in the yard first thing in the morning, she took breakfast with the family as usual but when she went back to her room, ostensibly to access her morning's Teach, she assumed a crouched position and 'ported right into the carrier. She hadn't quite judged the interior and barked her shins hard against the inner couch and scraped her back along the outer one. She ought to have crouched longways to the carrier, not athwart it. Rubbing her legs fiercely and setting a minor block to reduce the ache, she positioned herself, her sac, and the blanket so that she'd be lost in the shadow when the carrier was open to settle MR Mexalgo.

She'd put her Teach on automatic the night before so it would air and turn off at appropriate times, and left a note saying she'd gone to look for greens. No one would expect to see her before dinnertime.

She had a moment's shock when something
very heavy swung into her back as Mexalgo settled himself.

“You'll want to secure those samples to the other couch, Mexalgo,” the stationmaster said, and Zara caught in her breath and shielded tightly against the chance that Keylarian might investigate.

“Why?” grunted the miner rep.

“Tower policy, sir. Wouldn't want you squashed. The pack'll fit nicely on the spare couch and belt down safely.”

That was accomplished and the hatch closed. Despite holding her shields down as tight as she could, Zara could “feel” the initial lift of the capsule.

“Takes longer'n I thought it would,” Mexalgo was muttering. “When are they going to 'port me? Don't want to be late for that meeting. Awkward having different times on different worlds. Why'nt they synchronize?”

Zara would have laughed at his ignorance and his nervousness. She'd known when they left and when they'd arrived seconds later, and then the hatch opened.

“Miner Representative Mexalgo?” and cool air flooded the carrier. “I'm T-10 Guanil. Ground transport will take you to the Blundell Building where an air car awaits you. Here, let me undo that for you, sir.”

Neither man had any inkling of her presence and Zara stopped the trembling in her belly. She did exert just a little pressure to keep the, hatch from locking. Just that little bit wouldn't be noticed but using the kinetics necessary to unlock it
from the outside might be. This was a secured area.

Outside she could hear all kinds of activity but then Earth Prime was an extremely busy facility, especially since the operations against the Hiver species had stepped up. She could pick up a gestalt from any one of the engines she heard moving about outside. But where did she want to go now?

She had to decide that no one would expect to be 'pathed here on the cargo field. And Roddie was bringing shipments in from Earth every day . . . What if she could find one? If not today, then tomorrow.

Carefully she let her senses flow beyond the capsule, just as she'd been taught, to estimate and establish her surroundings. It had used to be a game they'd all played, the reward for the most comprehensive report being one of Dad's origami figures. She didn't have as many as Laria, Thian, and Rojer had gotten, but then she was younger than they were and hadn't done that exercise as often. Morag'd only gotten two.

She was amazed at the size of the cargo yard, or the cradles that emptied and filled almost instantaneously. Then she began to worry if hers would be flipped out again and quickly, despite her barked shins and bruised back, 'ported herself underneath the carrier. There was no one immediately nearby so she cautiously looked around the prow of the capsule.

Gradually, as she 'probed carefully, she realized that there were distinct areas: she was in a “live” cradle which was nowhere near as busy as some of the others, where goods were loaded onto and
from immense grav-lift platforms that silently went up and down the ranks of drones, large and small. Most of the first grav-lift was crated or wrapped. Nothing “fresh.” Nothing even marked fresh food.

She was suddenly startled to hear voices coming near her.

“Okay, use that double, Orry,” a man's voice said. “We can put the crates in. The Talent's always careful lifting so nothing'll roll out or crash about. Handles his stuff like he would a baby. Don't know why he bothers since she doesn't eat it.”

“Who does eat then? Them in the Module.”

“I doubt it,” said the first voice with a snort. “It'd be contaminated er something, having been down there by that critter.
I
sure as hell wouldn't touch it. All this choice number one stuff going to an insect.”

“Big insect . . . okay, strap this down. Harness'll just fit.”

Zara did a scan, as she'd been taught, to assess mass and volume in a capsule. There wasn't much space left. Yes, there was. If she folded into a tight ball, she could just fit on the end of the couch where the fresh fruit had been tied down.

This time she knocked herself on the head and nearly gave her presence away as well by her inadvertent exclamation of pain.

“You hear that, Orry?”

“Hear what?”

“Ah, nothing. Let's get out of the way. Carrier FT-387-B ready for ‘lift.' Now like I said . . .”

And she heard the voices dwindle away.

She also felt the “lift”: a little jerky as the Talent had to expend more gestalt to 'port her weight.

What have they sent along today?
And, if she wasn't mistaken, that voice was her cousin Roddie's. She had done her homework, however, and knew exactly where she'd been landed: in bay A, the original facility of the now greatly expanded Module. A second carrier should be in the other cradle. She 'ported herself out of the first one and then hid behind the second. She'd bumps and bruises enough getting in and out of capsules not to want to risk any more.

She was no sooner hidden than the door slid open and she “sensed” her cousin Roddie. His mind was full of his duty and his concern for his charge. He'd ordered some specially succulent tropical fruits—she'd shown a real interest in fruit until just recently: eating and saving pips and seeds. She wasn't even doing that lately. He had to stimulate her appetite, somehow, someway. The xenbios and xenzoos were getting vehement about her lack of interest in the larvae. Those things could die from neglect just like the young of any species. If the queen didn't make a move to attend them soon, they'd have to be taken from her to join the program. Two had made successful transitions to the next step in their life cycle . . . Roddie only knew the fact not the reality of the transition.

Zara congratulated herself on being on time.
She
wasn't too late. She'd help the poor queen. She'd save her. The sounds of scuffling continued.

“Right. The fruit first,” and Zara followed Roddie's mind as he delivered sweet-perfumed melons to the occupant of Heinlein Base. “Bingo!” he said.

His irreverent attitude towards important things had always raised dislike in his cousins and, despite having heard his mental ruminations, it roused Zara's enmity. She followed his second 'port.

Felt his confusion. “Hey, now, what's that?”

“What's what, lieutenant?”

“I don't quite know, sergeant, but I think I should find out.”

Horrified, Zara took a deep breath and followed the direction of his last 'port and slipped on the congealed juices of many ripe fruits, falling backwards and cracking her head against a larvae sac.

For a long moment, Zara was stunned. And then she felt terribly cold: as if every fiber of her body was frozen. Zara paused, knowing perfectly well that the temperature of the Base was kept at 32° Celsius. Then she looked down at the motionless body of the queen. It was a lot larger than Zara realized: taller than she was, though she wasn't tall: short for a Lyon, in fact. Not for a Gwyn. Fleetingly she remembered Rojer telling her how much she resembled her grandmother.