Damia (45 page)

“I thought it was, too.”

“This time it is right, Damia.”

“Yes, it is,” Afra said, though his words were slightly slurred. “At least I have extended the invitation. I’ve no gauge to guide me, but they appeared to me amazed at how we conduct our battles. I think that’s a good impression to give them.”

“Now, what do we do?” Damia asked, watching as the alien vessel continued to close with them.

“Now, we inform Earth Prime that we have concluded opening talks with an alien species,” said Afra so calmly that Damia knew he was very nervous.

D
ENEB Prime Jeran gave them a prolonged demonstration, at the top of both lungs and mind, of what they might expect from Earth Prime. The local Fleet Commander appeared at the Tower, apoplectic to have found an alien ship orbiting the planet when the warning system hadn’t so much as burped.

I TOLD YOU WHY IT IS NECESSARY TO PURSUE THIS COURSE OF ACTION
, Afra roared with such vehemence that Isthia and Damia regarded him with astonishment. Cut off in mid-spate by Afra’s uncharacteristic bellow, Jeran glared at the Capellan.

“You had no authority to do so,” Jeran said in a terse tone, clipping his words; expression and stance illustrating his indignation.

“He obeyed me,” Isthia said calmly, and took the conformable seat. Ian and Rakella were still backed in the corner where they had retreated from Jeran’s angry harangue.

Somewhat to her surprise, Damia could regard the scene with objective detachment—or perhaps, she amended, she
was merely too stunned by the whole episode to be able to react.

Jeran turned on Isthia. “Grandmother,” he began.

“Did you bother to inform Jeff or have you just been enjoying this exhibition of vituperation too much?” Isthia had a distinct gift for putting people in their places.

“I have first,” Jeran said in a loud voice, enunciating very, very clearly, “to ascertain just what has transpired before I can send a rational report. They,” and he jerked his head at uncle and great-aunt, “gave me some hoodle-hoop about dreams and being called. Dreams . . .” and his scorn would have scarified a lesser personality than Isthia Raven, “hardly constitute an intelligent reason for admitting strangers past our perimeter defenses.”

“The dreams constituted a contact which cleverly surmounted a language barrier,” Afra replied, “and provided us with sufficient information to wish to investigate more thoroughly, up to and including personal confrontation.”

Jeran stared at him, his nostrils flaring, fists on his belt, one foot tapping as he struggled to leash his temper.

“Between Isthia, Afra, and myself,” Damia said coolly, rather delighted to see her phlegmatic brother moved to temper, “you must admit, Jeran, that we would have experience in recognizing threat. This species does not pose one. In fact, hostility is furthest from their thoughts. Their worlds have suffered from Hive attacks. They urgently desired to know how we repelled the Leviathan.”

“As I was part of that assault, I explained how we contrived,” Afra went on conversationally. “The Mrdinis were very impressed that we had needed no recourse to armaments to destroy it.”

Jeran rolled his eyes, noting the distraught expression on the commander’s face. “That was even stupider, Afra. Giving
away
information about our defense? That’s the most horrendous breach of security that . . . that . . .” Words failed him.

*   *   *

WE’RE COMING IN
, and Jeff’s words rang in everyone’s ears. Damia had to blink, because her father’s bellow
did not reverberate in her head. She glanced anxiously at Afra, who closed one eye in reassurance.

*   *   *

You see, you can even take my son’s bellow without wincing
, Isthia said in a finely tuned thought.
I did make one slight error, though
, and Damia and Afra turned to her in surprise, for her expression was fleetingly rueful.
I set a sending constraint in your minds so you wouldn’t inadvertently ’path, but I didn’t restrict receiving. Never thought you’d be in receipt of anything. Everyone
knew
not to ’path you until I gave permission.

So that’s how we were able to receive the Mrdinis’ dreams
, Damia said, and hid her smile behind her hand.
How reassuring to know that you can be fallible, Grandmother.

The opposite would make you unbearable
, Afra added with no rancor.

“I simply don’t understand your reasoning in this,” Jeran was saying, “any of you. Especially you, Damia, since you nearly . . .”

WE WON’T GO INTO THAT, JERAN!
Jeff’s forceful words echoed, and Jeran bowed his head, scowling blackly at the floor, around him, at anything but his sister.

Jeran didn’t have to say it out loud, Damia thought bleakly, though she was grateful to her father for stopping him.

The Mrdinis are an entirely separate affair
, Isthia said gently.

Entirely
, Afra added, and twined his fingers in hers. Damia shifted restlessly, knowing that Jeran would not be the first to remind her of that Sodan stupidity. When Afra also edged slightly in front of her, Damia realized his intention. It wouldn’t be the first time he had protected her from her father’s censure, but this time she would take her fair share, so she eased forward to close the gap.

Abruptly the largest cradle in the Tower yard held one of the fast Fleet courier vessels and the orbital alarms indicated the emergence of four large ships in space above them.

“They
are
upset,” Isthia murmured, grinning.

Damia envied her grandmother that superb self-confidence but, oddly enough, she began to feel more positive about her part in this encounter.

Wearing a ferocious scowl, Jeff ’ported into the Tower, the Rowan beside him. The next few seconds were full of such heated exchanges of accusation, refutation, and explanation that Rakella, never a strong Talent, folded against Ian, moaning.

“Oh, do cool it, Jeff,” Isthia said commandingly, her blue eyes flashing with a reciprocal outrage. “I most certainly do want you and the Rowan to enter into discussion with the Mrdinis. That’s what they’re here for. Both Afra and Damia support my evaluation that these are allies, not aggressors. We exhibited reciprocal good faith by inviting them within our defenses.”

“That’s why I’m raging, Dad. Letting aliens into Deneb’s skies is totally irrational!” Jeran exclaimed, gesturing wildly. “We haven’t yet got over the psychic scars of the Beetle Penetration and then my grandmother . . .”

“One unarmed vessel? One small, unarmed vessel is no threat. It is usually regarded as an emissary,” Isthia replied, her patience fraying. “Oh, do be sensible, Jeff.”

“Sensible is using the channels and procedures that are set up to deal with occurrences of this sort, Mother,” Jeff began, his temper only just contained.

“Wait a moment, Jeff,” the Rowan said thoughtfully, “Isthia may have acted impetuously, but I can sense the Mrdinis. They are very open. I’m not getting a shred of hostility from their minds and there’s certainly nothing ‘heavy’ on this alien ship.” Her glance slid across Damia and back to Jeff. “I’d know,” she added gently, putting her hand on Jeff’s arm so that the contact would emphasize the impressions she had just gained from her mental probe.

Jeff regarded his wife for a long moment and then his anger seemed to drain out of him. He gestured to Jeran to relax and smiled reassuringly at the pallid Rakella whom Ian was supporting.

“Who made first contact?” he asked, looking from his mother to Afra and then Damia, where his gaze lingered.

“We all had contact,” Isthia said, “though Damia’s was the clearest.”

Jeff nodded, accepting the statement without challenge.

“I put a restraint on them ’pathing,” Isthia went on, in a slightly apologetic tone, “but I forgot to inhibit receipt. Damia would, of course, be both more receptive and more vulnerable in post-convalescency.” Isthia shrugged. “After two weeks of nightly dream sequences, I had to accept the fact that the pattern could not be random, had to be an imposition. I couldn’t establish a source for it. I was more than surprised when first Rakella, Besseva, then Ian, and finally Damia and Afra informed me that they were also receiving similar sendings.”

Jeff turned to Jeran expectantly: his eldest son shook his head.

“I can’t imagine why Jeran didn’t receive too,” Isthia remarked drolly. “But he didn’t. We six got together, to compare notes, and tried to figure out a response to what was patently a friendly overture. Damia volunteered.” When the Rowan looked apprehensive, Isthia raised her hand in a placating gesture. “I would scarcely undo the patient work of several months, Angharad. Knowing the martial mind, I decided that we’d check as far as we were able to. The Fleet takes so long to mobilize, doesn’t it! So we made visual contact, established communications, and extended an invitation to the emissaries. Now you, Fleet, and the League can handle future negotiations.” She let out a sigh as she propelled herself out of the chair. “Now, it’s been a busy few hours and I look forward to some unstructured sleep. Come, Damia, Afra! We’ll all rest better back at the cabin. I don’t want you exposed to the emotional levels that will shortly be rampant around here.” Then she turned to Ian and Rakella. “You two come as well. You look as shagged as I feel. See you later, dears,” she said, blithely flinging her fingers at Jeff and the Rowan. “Come
on
!” and she imperiously gestured for obedience to her orders.

“Dad, Mother,” Damia said with a tentative farewell smile.

As soon as Isthia had admitted to fatigue, Damia had felt it creeping along her nerves. Not disastrously, merely informing her that rest was a good idea. Swift on that thought, she felt Afra’s agreement, and they both ’ported back to the cabin’s main room. Isthia, Ian, and Rakella arrived more prudently on the lawn and joined them inside.

“Plainly you’ve recovered when you can ’port that neatly,” Isthia said with an approving nod. “Now, what shall we have for lunch?”

*   *   *

Jeff and the Rowan asked permission to join them late that evening.

“Damia, Afra, we’ve got to whip up a meal,” Isthia said with a show of energy. “Neither of them have eaten all day. I wonder if we have anything left after that mountain Ian and Rakella put away at noon.”

Damia scurried about the kitchen, checking what was available, remembering that her father was only out of temper when he was hungry. He may have absolved them of an impulsive act in contacting the Mrdinis, but she was certain that some reckoning was due.

Jeff doesn’t hold grudges, love
, Afra murmured, winking at her. “Shall I uncork some of that excellent mountain white of yours, Isthia?”

Isthia grinned. “Clever, Afra.”

Five minutes later, the two Primes arrived on the lawn and, daringly, Damia “felt” for their mood. Both her mother and father were tired, but their public thoughts were tinged with a satisfaction that bordered triumph.

“Well?” Isthia said, handing each a glass of the chilled white wine as they reached the porch. She gestured for them to be seated while Damia offered the small hot pastries she had managed to prepare.

Jeff took a sip of the wine, smiled, and nodded appreciatively at his mother.

“One of these days, Isthia Raven, you’re going to land
out on a limb I can’t get you off of,” he said, and then he relented.

Isthia looked smug. “I told you they were not hostile. Did you have pleasant dreams?” she added slyly.

Jeff laughed and even the Rowan began to smile.

“A novel but effective means of communication. You should be astonished to learn, Mother, that we also got Commander Curran in on one conference . . . with Rowan doing the hypnotic link.”

The Rowan chuckled. “I don’t know who was more surprised, him, me, or them. But the conference sank all his ifs, ands, and buts.”

“So you can now support our contention of their peaceful intentions?” Isthia asked.

“Indisputably,” Jeff said, leaning back in his chair. “Commander Curran will so inform High Command and put forth an urgent request for priority conferences.” Then Jeff looked keenly at Damia. She returned his gaze calmly, keeping a firm grip on her emotions and hectic thoughts. “They asked for you, Damia.”

“It’s too soon . . .” the Rowan began.

“No, it isn’t,” Isthia said, smiling to soften her contradiction. “There’s nothing wrong with Damia’s mind, I assure you. She is completely recovered. So is Afra.”

Damia glared at her grandmother for the sly smile on her face.

“I’m relieved to hear that . . .” Rowan began again, and then broke off, staring at her daughter.

Damia felt her mother’s mental “nudge,” verifying Isthia’s medical clearance, felt her mother’s inability to get past her shields, “heard” her mother’s annoyance alter to irritation.

“Possibly you will also be relieved,” Afra said as he moved to stand behind Damia, his hands lightly clasping her shoulders. She could feel the intensity of his emotions and knew that he had opened his mind, and his heart, to the two Primes . . . “to know that Damia and I enjoy a meeting of minds.”