Damia's Children (31 page)

“Some insects eat the male after mating,” Morag said, casting a quick glance at her sister. “Maybe that's what caused all the scrabbling we heard in the pod . . .”

“That is quite enough, Morag,” Afra said firmly.

“But, Dad, Biology Teach said we got to observe
the queen for our project,” Morag protested, her voice almost the whine her parents deplored in her.

“Then observe, but keep your comments for your class hour.”

Morag obeyed. After such a putdown from her father, Rojer knew she wouldn't dare provoke Zara any further. Anyway, Zara seemed oblivious to Morag's taunting for her gaze was glued to the screen, her expressive face tender. Her 'Dinis were seated close beside her but they apparently were not picking up on her emotions. Rojer made a tentative probe at her but she was shielded so tightly he doubted that either of his parents could have “heard” her thoughts and feelings just then.

It did take the queen hours to finish her laying. Rojer left when he got bored and spent an hour with Xexo, trying to build on his
Beijing
success.

There were new pieces. The KLTL had calculated the point at which the Hive ship was probably hit and quartered the area. Rojer wondered if that had been Thian's bright idea for it had produced quite a lot of flotsam and jetsam: some of it was too twisted or melted to be useful but each fragment, splinter, and scrap was gathered up. There were some big sections of hull, warped and melted, but the art of reconstruction might be able to render the original from the remainder.

Neither Xexo or Rojer were as interested in the bigger pieces as the smaller ones that had remained intact, easier to match and piece together. These newest pieces Xexo and Rojer first sorted into the appropriate subdivisions where the most likely matches were possible.

“If only this one didn't have that little hooky
edge,” Rojer said, having vainly tried to mate two very likely looking bits.

“Hooky place?” Xexo flipped the bit he'd been fiddling with to Rojer.

“That's it! That fits a treat!” Rojer said, crowing with delight. Xexo rushed around the table to see and grimaced.

“And I handed it over to you!”

“I give you leave to report it, though!” Rojer was quite willing to defer. Lately his name had come up in his parents' conversations and he'd closed up, rather than hear them discuss him. They had such high standards, standards he might not be meeting. He wished he hadn't become so acute a telepath.

When Xexo returned from making that call, he was grinning from ear to ear. “Brace yourself for a surprise or two, lad,” he said but refused to explain. “Oh, it won't hurt you to simmer a bit. This fit's original, by the bye. I'm the first to report it. And I made it a joint discovery. Only fair, Roj. Now, let's see if
my
hunch is right because I think we've got part of a gyroscope here. I know it sounds farfetched because gyroscopic drives are ancient history in engineering usage . . .”

“Gyroscope, of course it is!” Rojer cried, reaching across the board for half a dozen shards and scraps which, with little fussing, came together into a whole ring. Xexo's eyes bulged at the result.

“They won't believe this: two sets in one day . . .”

“Well, we always thought the first match would be the hardest . . .”

“You report this one on your own, Rojer Lyon!” Xexo said, turning the band. “Might not be part of a drive. They might have used it as a compass leveler or . . . Go
report it.” And Xexo shooed him out of the basement.

Rojer reported it in as unassuming manner as he could, relieved when he got an automated answering service. It asked for details and he gave piece numbers and the sequence in which they fitted together. He was asked his name and the time of the match and he was thanked for prompt reportage. The nice thing about machines, Rojer thought, was that they couldn't be impressed by rank. They took you as you were!

He and Xexo tried to build on their match but then Rojer's time sense alerted him that his leisure time was over. He and Morag had to exercise the ponies and their 'Dinis wanted to come along. Damia asked them to get more greens, if they saw any ready for picking, but they didn't need to hunt. Ewain and Kaltia came along, stuck up on their ponies with their young 'Dinis still able to ride pillion. Zara stayed home, glancing up at the screen and the queen half-covered with shavings and eggs.

When Rojer and his group returned to the house, Zara was once again in floods of tears.

“She might be dead. Has anyone looked? They don't report the sensor readings. She's exhausted, delivering all those eggs, Mother. Oh, someone has to help her! I'll call Grandmother Isthia myself if you won't.”

“You will not disturb your grandmother. Either one of them. And you will stop this hysterical nonsense immediately.”

Rojer recoiled slightly at the force of his mother's peripheral 'pathing. She was both trying to calm Zara and making certain the girl could not
project a call. Even Damia couldn't 'path all the way to Deneb without some assistance. For that matter, Rojer was on hand—but his sympathies were oddly on Zara's side.

“Ah, c'mon, sis,” he began in a drawl, sauntering across the room to them. “Look there now! They just put food right by her palps. Roddie's getting good at making deliveries.”

“Roddie . . .” Mention of their cousin surprised Zara and she blinked her tear-streaked eyes and looked back at the screen, seeing the neat piles of food in easy reach. “How d'you know Roddie did that?”

He sensed that it mattered that a member of her family, sidereal or not, was involved in actively succoring the queen.

“He's the only Talent up there, isn't he, mother?” Damia agreed with him vocally and mentally, glad of any diversion for her daughter's over-sensitivity. “I know he 'ports the fresh food in daily. And, if you'd stop and think a minute, she has been assisted in every way as soon as her needs were seen. Like the shavings. Every xenbio and xenzoo's watching the screen as closely as you. Stop fretting so much. And if you're really worried, I don't think Roddie'd mind if you shot him a query or two. Do you, mother?”

Damia regarded him a moment longer and Rojer knew he'd surprised her.

“If it would ease your anxieties, Zara, I don't think Roddie would mind. But you're not to bombard him with inane questions,” Damia said, raising a stern finger. “He has duties to perform and he can't be distracted any more than your father and I, even if he isn't a Tower Talent.”

“Mother, you never liked Roddie,” Zara said, picking up on that aspersion.

Rojer felt his mother relax: her remark had been a deliberate attempt to keep Zara diverted from the queen. Zara had always perversely stood up for Roddie, simply because her brothers and sisters detested him.

“Look, Zar,” Morag said, “she's eating!”

Zara was instantly back in her chair, eyes glued to the queen's activity. Her movements were slow, but she'd labored mightily and she would be drained. Rojer watched until he saw her carefully putting seeds and pips to one side and then he went to seek his father. With everyone else involved in something else, he'd have a chance to speak to his father, who was taking an evening swim, without being interrupted. He descended to the pool level and shucked out of his clothes.

They swam a companionable few laps and then Afra caught the edge and turned to his son.

“Something's on your mind and, for the first time in your life, I can't get a hint of it,” Afra said.

Rojer grinned, having the opening he needed.

“That's just it, Dad, I can block and I am also hearing a lot of exchanges that I don't believe I should. But I swear, Dad, I'm not
trying
to hear.”

Afra lazily swirled his free hand and both feet to keep balanced in the water and he smiled thoughtfully.

“I'd say that you were coming into your full strength as a Talent. Your mother and I thought you might after the pod transfer. It was about time for you. You confirmed it by 'porting us neatly to Heinlein and then back here.”

“You were in on those . . . Weren't you, Dad?”

Afra chuckled, the sound reverberating in the pool.

“No, actually I wasn't. I let you do the work.”

“I did those 'ports all by myself?”

“I'm surprised you didn't realize it. I assure you that I wasn't involved.”

“But I thought you were the focus . . .”

“Only for lifting the pod.”

“Then . . .”

Afra nodded. “Your mother would rather that we tell you tonight after the younger ones are in bed.”

But the news, and his father's pride in its purport, was so vivid that Rojer caught it.

“They have? I'm to join the squadron?” he cried jubilantly. Then Rojer gasped. “I should have listened to Thian!”

“You've already conducted yourself quite adequately on the
Beijing
, Rojer. Do you think you can contain yourself until later, when we can discuss this in my study?”

“Sure, Dad, sure!”

But it was hard not to let his joy escape. Zara, being so sensitive, caught the edge of his elation but no specifics. So he deliberately regaled everyone at dinner about the double find, and let her believe that success caused his jubilant mood.

The youngsters went to bed and then Zara, probably with some prompting from her mother for she started yawning much earlier than usual, went off to bed.

Damia winked and led the way into Afra's study which was completely shielded.

“You've been very good this evening, dear, and we appreciate it because the news is not generally
known. Father said there's a hold on it. But the B Squadron which went to track down one of the three Hive ships that did escape the nova has been located.”

Afra took up the narration. “There're three ships in Squadron B: the 'Dini KTTS . . .”

“That's one of the class Aurigae ore built . . .”

“Yes, and so are the two Human cruisers, the
Arapahoe
and the
Genesee.
This may be premature but the High Councils want to have a Prime out there, to relay messages. Your brother has done so well in that capacity that, even though you are not quite sixteen, your grandfather, and Gollee, feel that you are able for the duties and responsibilities.”

“Dad, I can't teach like Thian could . . .”

“That wouldn't be one of your duties. The complement of the KTTS have enough Basic, and both Human captains have sufficient 'Dini for necessary exchanges. It's the heft of your Talent that's required.”

“Oh,” and Rojer grinned. “Stevedoring” was a long standing family joke. “But why, Dad, might it be premature?”

“The squadron has discovered that the Hiver ship is decelerating. Their apparent destination is a G-type star system. When the message capsule was sent, the Hiver was closing with the heliopause. It also had not despatched either scouts or probes. It is thought that this system may contain a Hive colony.”

“Wow!”

“Precisely. A reasonable enough assumption since this G-type star is not that far, spatially
speaking, from the Hive homeworld. The feeling is that these are refugees, not colonists.”

“Wow! And we're going to attack it?”

“Ah, now that has not been discussed, much less decided. Considerable reconnaissance is required. In the matter of how Hive colony worlds are protected, even the 'Dini High Council has no experience. That star system is galactically opposite to Clarf, north in a manner of speaking and rimward.”

“And that's why a Prime is needed to 'port the findings of reconnaissance probes and scouts!”

“Exactly! To expedite data delivery and receive necessary orders. You have always been discreet, Rojer.”

Rojer let out a sigh, only then realizing he had been holding his breath. “I'll be a clam with my shields at maximum.”

“Not quite, dear,” his mother said. “You'll be on call at all times, but there are no Talents above an eight on either of the Human ships. So you can't be read.”

“You'll be going out with supply drones which are badly needed,” his father added.

“I don't mind what I go with so long as I go.”

Afra placed his hand on Rojer's shoulder and gripped it tightly, allowing his pride to flow through. Rojer glanced at his mother. There was a slightly sad look in her eye that made Rojer appreciate his luck was her regret.

“Mom!” He reached out to touch her cheek and she held his hand to her face briefly. He sensed that she had accepted, if reluctantly, the disposition of yet another of her children.

“It's all right with me, too, Rojer. But for you, it
does mean deferring your training in engineering. According to Xexo, you've shown considerable aptitude in that area. And you aren't really the staid sort that would thrive on Tower life.”

“I'd do it, mother, you know that.”

Damia lifted her eyebrows. “You've had little choice. No more had I at your age.”

“But, Mother, it's not a question of choice, is it? Talent has responsibilities . . .” He stopped.

“You learned thoroughly, didn't you?” she said, smiling.

“Yeah, I guess. You brought us up real good, Mom. And we have choices, you know. You're seeing that we do. Even Zara . . .”

“Oh,” and Damia clicked her tongue. “She is becoming a problem with this mercurial instability . . .”

“She'll be all right,” Afra remarked soothingly, “though she'll probably surprise all of us eventually.”

“I think so, too, Dad,” Rojer said stoutly, to reassure his mother. And himself. “Ah, when will I have to go? And do I take Gil and Kat with me?”

“You certainly do. They're only just out of hibernation so they'll be fine. Not that it did Thian's pair any harm to do theirs on Clarf,” and Afra smiled when that remark got a chuckle out of Damia. “As to when you leave, we'll inform your grandfather that we've asked you and you've consented. It's not going to be easy, but you have Thian's experiences as a guide. You are a civilian and you are to be protected so don't have a fit if someone summarily throws you into an escape pod and tells you to get yourself home. Primes are
not
expendable.”