Damia (10 page)

You don’t need to treat this as so commonplace an occurrence, you know
, she said with some asperity.

Why not? It should be!
He returned with a smug grin. She pinched him.
Yow!
He sidled away from her.

His pleasure was short-lived, however. The next morning, when the Rowan thought of going to Earth, he balked.

“We’ve got some pretty heavy stuff to shift,” he warned her. But she glared at him, and Afra found himself wondering if he could endure her during the necessary adjustment period. The Rowan told the staff they could prepare for the day’s work without him or her, then glared at him.

“I want to go back to Deimos again. Now!”

“As you wish.” Afra gave in gracefully. Gently he pushed her back out close to Mars’ largest moon.

Is Earth visible from this position?
she asked him.

He rotated the capsule and told her how to use the controls to get a magnified view of Earth and its Moon. But the blackness was too much for her and, the moment he caught the explosion of fear, he yanked her back.

Easy, Rowan!
he said, soothingly. But her reactions were so strong that they disturbed Jeff Raven way out on Deneb.

Scared me half to death, you did!
Raven told her.

Jeff
, Afra replied with some fear of reproach,
she’s all right.
Afra added to the strength of his response by initiating a metamorphic massage to the Rowan to reduce her tension. Inwardly he was angered:
what
was blocking her so much? Was
he
trying to inhibit her? Was he rushing her in order to threaten her resolve? Afra detested even the thought that such petty jealousies could lurk in his heart.
I want her to be happy
, he told himself sternly.
I will be happier if the Rowan is happy.

The day passed uneasily, with Afra walking a tightrope for fear of setting the Rowan off. But she worked more like an automaton, neither jocular nor snappish. They were just closing down the board for the day when an emergency cargo signal came through.

Some Fleet nerd to judge by the ID
 . . . Brian Ackerman started sourly. Silence spread among the rest of the crew until Afra turned to the personal capsule. Jeff Raven stepped out, tossed everyone a jolly salute, and charged up the Rowan’s Tower two steps at a time.

*   *   *

“There’s nothing on this list we can’t handle ourselves!” Afra exclaimed, thrusting the cargo manifest back into Ackerman’s outstretched hand. “Get those generators back on line!”

“But, Afra—” Ackerman began pleadingly.

“No buts!” Afra’s yellow eyes burned hot. “We will not disturb them.” He gestured peremptorily around the control room. “Have Mauli and Mick report here; they’ve worked with me before.”

“Yes, but only when the Rowan was in gestalt, too,” Ackerman complained.

Don’t task me, Brian
, Afra snapped back, his normal aplomb shaken enough that he ’pathed. He jerked his head in silent apology, adding aloud: “We
owe
them this much.”

Ackerman sighed deeply, nodded in agreement. He turned to the others standing around the control room. “You heard the man, people! We’ve got work to do!” He grinned conspiratorially at the tall Capellan.

“Just don’t try to resign because
I’m
bullying you!” Afra teased, waggling a finger.

“Wouldn’t dream of it!” Brian responded heartily. “Now here’s the first load . . .”

*   *   *

“That’s the last load,” Brian said, handing the datasheets to the Capellan. “Afra? The last load.”

“Oh? Yeah,” Afra looked up wanly, limply taking the sheets. Beyond him, Mauli and Mick reeled slightly in their seats. He walked over to them slowly. “Mauli? Mick?” He looked down at them. “Last one.”

The twins slowly rose to their feet, swaying. Afra grabbed their hands, apologizing. “Tactile contact will make it easier.”

Fortunately it was a small cargo lighter. Afra suspected
that Brian had saved it especially. With a great effort the three heaved the empty ship back to Earth orbit.

Hey! Watch it!
Reidinger swore, steadying the tumbling ship as it popped into orbit just above the Earth’s atmosphere.
Any closer and you would have drenched Sri Lanka!

Afra ignored the comment, as they had done throughout the day in their contacts with Earth Prime. The excuse given out was that the Rowan was furious with Reidinger and not talking to him. The Rowan had
never
done that before, but Afra was sure she would be amused by the ruse when he had a chance to explain it later.

“Afra—”

“—we can’t do this again,” Mauli and Mick told them in their twin-speak.

Afra gave them a long searching look before he nodded rueful acceptance.

“We’ve got a passenger liner due through tomorrow, anyway,” Ackerman confided, the next day’s cargo manifest on his screen. “You’re beat. I’ll tell the Rowan in the morning.”

Afra shook his head. “No, I will.” He looked around the control room at the exhausted crew. “Thank you.” Then he went around the room, shaking the hands or patting the shoulder of each and every person. “And please thank those outside who helped us today. I’m sure the Rowan will thank you, too.”

“They didn’t do it for
her
,” Brian muttered under his breath. Afra did not hear him.

Afra knocked louder on the Rowan’s door in his fourth attempt to rouse the pair the next morning. He had slept soundly but had woken quite early, nervously considering how to admit his weakness to the Rowan when Callisto Station had to go to work. There was that large passenger liner which, no way, could he and the twins ’port. He tried through the comsystem to rouse them again. No luck.

For a long time Afra stood at the door, fists clenched, breathing deeply as he considered the impropriety of the
next logical act. Finally, as softly as he could, he ’pathed to the two forms inside.

I do beg your pardons!

A series of emotions and feelings washed over him: restfulness, satiation—

Rowan! You’re broadcasting
 . . .

He caught snippets of her rousing Jeff, his tired response as he told her it was his day off, and her gentle admonition that
yesterday
had been his day off.

She’s right!
Afra called desperately, adding by way of caution,
Reidinger doesn’t know you’re here
 . . .

Why not?
was Jeff’s half-amused response.

He’s not
 . . . Afra faltered, better tell them later.
He’s in a very touchy mood.
As Afra expected, the Rowan, always very diligent, was ready to get to work but, to his surprise, Jeff held her back, all ready to rebel for another day off.

With all respect, Rowan, Raven
, he remarked, falling back on the courtesy his parents had drilled into him,
we managed well enough yesterday, but there’s a passenger carrier coming in that requires the Rowan’s gentle touch.

Even that polite statement was received rebelliously by Jeff Raven, who insisted on a half-hour hold while he and the Rowan broke their fast. When they’d eaten, they didn’t exactly race to the Tower where, reluctantly, he returned to his responsibilities on Deneb. Afra’s mood was mixed as he tried to be understanding of their need for each other and control his resentment of being unthinkingly abused.

But his silent dedication and that of the rest of the staff were well repaid in the Rowan’s gentle smile, easy manner, and efficient work throughout the week. Afra was disconcerted that he had to pace himself and the others gingerly to allow them to rebuild the stamina they had squandered in their support of the Rowan’s day of rest. So it came as somewhat of a surprise when the Rowan, on the fifth day after Raven’s joyful appearance, psychically screamed.
JEFF RAVEN!

What’s the matter, Rowan?

He’s gone. His touch is gone!
Instantly, Afra rushed up the stairs to her Tower. Her panic had reached down
through Afra to Brian Ackerman and Bill Power who followed the stationmaster into the Tower.

We’ll link!
Afra told the frightened Rowan.

She opened to them, Afra marshaling the others in a mental pyramid with her as the apex and calling up the full power of the Station’s six generators. After a horrifically long moment, a panicked Rowan, terror-stricken, turned to him. “He isn’t there! Surely he’s heard us!”

Afra had never expected that he would have to be the comforter of a bereaved Rowan. He had survived the stress of her meeting Jeff Raven, falling instantly in love with the man’s charismatic personality, had accepted that he would remain on the outside of that relationship in the role of supportive friend, steadfast companion. But how could he possibly cope with a bereft and doubly desperate woman who had lost her soul’s mate? The Rowan needed his aid,
now.
He extinguished his fear, took the initiative, and reached for her hands.

“Breathe more slowly, Rowan,” he ordered her in tones he forced to be calm. “There can be many reasons . . .”

Rowan?

Afra squeezed her hands reassuringly at the faint call: “You see, I told you. . . .”

The Rowan jerked her hands out of his. “That’s not Jeff!”
Yes?

Come at once! Jeff needs you!

Afra saw her determined expression and caught her arm as she started out of her chair. He could not imagine her trying the jump to Deneb after her black terror in viewing the Earth. “Now, wait a moment, Rowan.”

“You heard!” she returned in resolute tones. “He needs me! I’m going!”
I want a wide open mind from everyone on Station!
she added mentally, circumventing Afra. Then she was not there, in the Tower, but settling in the launch.
Where’s my linkage, Afra?

Afra’s hands were tightly, painfully clenched to his sides.
Must I lose you, too?
The painful whimper came from the depths of his soul. He realized that if he did not refuse her, if he provided her the jump power to Deneb
and she died, he would have good as killed her with his bare hands.

Afra, do it now!
the Rowan shouted.
If Jeff needs me, I must go! Do it before I realize
what
I’m doing!

Rowan, you can’t attempt
 . . . The thought jerked out of him.

Don’t argue, Afra.
Help
me! If I’ve been called, I must go!

Afra turned slowly in the high lonely Tower to gaze down at the sealed capsule and his beloved friend inside.

I’ll be waiting for her at the usual point
 . . . came that faint, firm mind-tone. Afra recognized its essential femininity, its assurance of the transfer, and its overriding anxiety for Jeff Raven. That confident assurance decided him, though logic informed him that Jeff’s was the only powerful mind Deneb had so far produced. As he released his fists and assembled the psychic power of the Station, the Rowan gripped his psyche firmly, bringing him tightly into the merge. It was as if she was convinced that if she held him so hard he would not be able to resist or alter it. She was wrong. Afra allowed himself a moment’s amazement to realize that he
could
resist her, could stop this transfer. Then the coordinates were in her mind and she pressed against the generators and, with his sudden, willing cooperation, was gone.

Long after the generators wound down to silence, Afra Lyon stood in the lonely high Tower of the Rowan, tears streaking his face as he worried and wondered and prayed as he had never done before that the Rowan was safe, that she could help her beloved and that he had not made the wrong decision in sending her to Deneb VIII.

His tears had dried, his fears had seeped away, and he had somehow fallen into the Rowan’s chair when he heard a soft step behind him.

“Afra?” It was Brian Ackerman. He came around to stand in front of him and then gripped his shoulder to make him attentive. “Can you hear her?”

Afra drew a deep breath, gently flicked off the Stationmaster’s
grip, and stood up. He shook his head. “No, I can’t.”

Ackerman winced and closed his eyes for a moment against what must now be done. “You’ll have to tell Reidinger.” He spoke carefully, weighing the impact on the tall Capellan.

I know.
The voice of Earth Prime startled them both. To Afra only, he said,
I owe you a great debt, bold Lyon.

And a myriad of images followed that thought: Reidinger knew that Afra had run the Station the day Jeff Raven came through; he knew of Afra’s valiant efforts to cure the Rowan of her claustrophobia; he guessed Afra’s role in maintaining the balance of her sanity; guessed his role and power in the Rowan’s trip to Deneb. Sadly the Earth Prime added:
I may have to draw deeper into your debt.
And Reidinger shared the fear that Jeff Raven would not live, offering Afra the position of the Rowan’s comforter and Jeff Raven’s surrogate.
You have always loved her, I know
, Reidinger added with flashes of sexual intensity.

Angrily, Afra shook his head.
You cannot even
begin
to understand!

And Afra found himself locked tight against a powerful mind, a mind which could have picked clean his darkest secrets.
No, my friend, I do. In my fashion
, and Afra perceived a sincere, fatherly interest, more tender than ever imagined, locked deep within Reidinger’s gruff exterior,
I love her, too!

Afra sensed a change in Reidinger’s thinking.
But you, my impetuous friend, I fear for you. It was one thing to be little brother to the virgin queen and attentive courtier to the royal couple. But some alternative might be needed to anchor her sanity. You are there and already have her trust and appreciation
 . . .

Although Afra had always known how ruthless Reidinger could be in the care and maintenance of FT&T and his precious Primes, this half-formed suggestion made him more amused than indignant. Especially as they didn’t even know for certain that contingency plans were needed.
There could be any number of reasons why Jeff Raven had been unavailable to the Rowan, though it
was
rather difficult to find a logical one.