She almost laughed at the relief on the stationmaster’s face as they arrived, without so much as a landing stumble, in front of the Claimtown’s one municipal building.
ROWAN! How DARE you! Siglen roared in her mind.
Leave me alone right now, Siglen. You can read me all the pertinent Rules and Regulations I’ve just broken when I get back to the Tower.
Siglen had no reply to such mutinous impertinence but the Rowan was aware of peripheral fuming and boiling fury.
The Rowan ignored that as she ignored Gerolaman’s concerned expression. ‘C’mon. Bardy’s house is down that way.’
‘Lusena’ll be in there,’ Gerolaman pointed to the building.
‘There’ll be nothing of my Lusena in there. I’ll remember her as she left Favor Bay. But I can help Bardy.’
In truth, the Rowan was almost afraid of confronting her foster sister. She had monopolized so much of Lusena’s life, never mind the fact that Lusena had willingly accepted the post. Bardy had been solicitous and kind to the fosterling but there had been times when both Bardy and Finnan had resented their mother’s absorption in her charge. Why wouldn’t they?
That’s why she wanted Gerolaman with her, to see that she faced her foster sibs, to deflect any recriminations.
There were none. Instead Bardy, true daughter of a generous natured mother, comforted the Rowan who burst into tears at the sight of her. Finnan threw his arms about both women and, with Gerolaman, comforted them. Then there were the twins to be admired and one of them did seem to be a tiny replica of her grandmother which was both reassuring and saddening.
So it was as a family, united in their sorrow, that they all went to the interment. The Secretary of the Interior was there, obviously relieved to see the Rowan in attendance. It was a mark of considerable respect that it was the Secretary herself who read the eulogy but the Rowan ‘heard’ more than the sincere words: She ‘heard’ much from the others gathered there, and some of it was unkind, untrue, and specious. She closed those minds out and concentrated on the spoken words. The tears continued to fall into her hands. Then a large handkerchief was offered by Finnan, and Bardy’s hand, so like Lusena’s in shape, closed firmly on the Rowan’s arm. Through that contact, she was one briefly with her.
By custom, internment was not a lengthy ceremony on Altair. Afterward the Secretary, firmly but kindly, insisted that the Rowan and Gerolaman accompany her back to Port Altair in her fast shuttle. Numbed by her acute loss, the Rowan acquiesced. Bardy and Finnan said they could keep in touch with her: they still considered her their little sister. But, on the trip back, the Rowan’s emotions were so overloaded that she curled up in a chair and closed out even the tacit understanding sympathy of the Secretary and Gerolaman. As anodyne, she forced her mind to dwell only on the tranquil return voyage of the Miraki, cutting through the lucid blue waters, the gleaming whiteness of the sail on that dazzlingly bright morning, the sensation of wind on her face, sun on her body, until the monotonous rhythm of the sea lulled her into an exhausted sleep.
She awoke, late the next morning, in her own bed. Rascal mumbling beside her head on the pillow.
Rowan? She recognized Bralla’s tentative voice. Reidinger has left word that you are to contact him as soon as you wake.
Reidinger? Can’t Siglen do her own chewing out?
I assure you. Rowan, and Bralla sounded prim with rebuke, Siglen quite understood your state of mind yesterday and wishes to hear no more about it. We are all sympathetic to your terrible loss. But Reidinger was most emphatic about an immediate contact.
He can speak loud enough to wake me.
No-one was going to wake you up, Rowan, and again Bralla reproved her.
Sorry, Bralla.
That’s all right, dear, and Bralla’s tone was kinder by many degrees.
I’ll get a brew and speak to Earth Prime immediately.
Rascal clung to her, claws uncomfortably latching into her new curls, as she got out of bed, tossed a robe about her, and went to make a stimulant. There’d been a note of sympathy from Reidinger among the pile on Bardy’s table. Well, he owed her a lot.
She picked up the hologram that Reidinger had sent her of himself, to use as a focus. He’d usually contacted her. She took a long swig of the hot drink and arranged herself for the long mental leap to Earth. Reidinger’s hologram had him seated in a chair, arms on the rest, hands relaxed, a position of repose which she secretly felt he had assumed only for the replication. Even so, his alert, heavy-featured face, the erect posture of his body, gave off clues of the tremendous energy and potential of the man. His dark-blue eyes seemed to spark – a trick of the holographer – as if, even over the lightyears separating them, he had a total awareness of her, the Rowan.
Reidinger! She focused her mind on those large, bright eyes. She was about to repeat the call with more force when she felt his touch.
Awake, are you? He might have been in the next room so strong was the contact.
Did I wake you? I was told to make contact as soon as I could.
It won’t be the first time and I don’t use sleep much. Gerolaman tells me you haven’t sat in yet on this latest course. Before she could frame a response, he went on. I want you to sit in, sort out which personalities you like, with a view to a Tower staff of at least twenty. Gerolaman assures me that your judgment’s good. It’s much easier, and now his tone was sardonic, if we can start off a new Tower with a well-integrated staff, otherwise efficiency suffers. So take your time choosing.
The Rowan shot upright in the chair. A new Tower?
Girl’s quick. Yes, a new Tower. On Callisto so it’s a terraformed Station. FT&T agree that Callisto can route a lot of the stuff that has had to come in System first before it can be rerouted. You’ll be saving me a lot of headaches and give me time to acquire others that only Earth Prime can solve. You’re young, I know, but you’ll be under my supervision and if you think Siglen’s been rough on you, you’ll soon learn that she was really the lesser of two evils. As soon as you’ve assembled a crew, you and they will depart directly for Callisto. Check in with me tomorrow at precisely 9.00 Earthtime.
The gap left by his departure was almost palpable in the quiet room.
‘A new Tower,’ she murmured, stunned. ‘On Callisto?’ That was one of Jupiter’s moons. Why there? Why not on the Earth’s Moon? Surely that would have been feasible with all the terraforming that had been done to improve that satellite. ‘I’m to assemble a team? I’m to … I’m to be a Prime!’
Gerolaman, Reidinger’s assigned me to Callisto Tower!
I can’t say that you deserve such a signal honor, young woman, Siglen answered her. At least you will be under his direct supervision and I must say, after the other day, that’s exactly where you should be!
Quite right, Siglen. Quite right. Not even Siglen was going to spoil her elation.
Lusena would have cheered! The Rowan closed her eyes over the pain the errant thought evoked. Lusena would never know that her charge had achieved Prime status. And the Rowan could not suppress her bitter tears which she wiped quickly away when she heard the rap on her door.
Gerolaman entered, his smile tentative until he saw her bravely smile back at him. ‘That’s my girl. Put regret aside. She’d have been proud, no doubt of it, as I am but,’ and he shook the sheaf of hard copy he held, ‘we’ve work to do now in earnest, Prime Rowan. My pleasure and my privilege to assist.’
Work did help: She had to concentrate on the reports first, and then had to match them up with the people on the course. Half a dozen times, she found herself thinking she must tell Lusena this or that, and the anguish would seize her momentarily until she relentlessly pushed it back. Sorrow was yesterday: today was for her future, the future which Lusena had cherished for her – her own Station and the title of Prime.
Four years on and she still liked Ray Loftus and Joe Toglia as technicians and maintenance personnel. Gerolaman approved for they had good records as assistants in their
skills and had worked at Procyon, Betelgeuse, and Earth. Mauli and Mick were available for reassignment and they had always intrigued the Rowan. From the new people on this course, she chose a Bill Powers as assistant supercargo from his record as well as his calm, stolid manner and a slow smile.
‘As good a reason as any,’ Gerolaman remarked, ‘considering you’re going to have to look at his face a lot.’
An older woman, a Capellan named Cardia Ren Hafter, might work out as Stationmaster. She’d temped in that position on Betelgeuse and Prime David recommended her. She wondered about the fifty-year-old scanreader, Zabe Talumet: His qualifications were sound but he seemed to have moved around a lot. But he had a good rating in his profession.
‘You’ll have to expect some shake-ups before you shake down, Rowan,’ Gerolaman assured her. ‘Personalities have to mesh and that takes time, trial and often error. Whatever crew you pick aren’t set in plasglas forever, you know. It took nearly six years before Siglen was satisfied, and some of her choices have always astonished me and Bralla but we all work well when it comes to the crunch.’
Reidinger sent four more T-4 and T-5 ratings from Earth Prime, and when she couldn’t find a good life-support manager, bullied someone from the Moon into taking a promotion in the Callisto’s system.
Three days later, Bralla earnestly requested the Rowan to have dinner with Siglen.
‘She really did feel badly about Lusena. And she was terrified that you’d been in the crash, too. It took her a nervous half hour before she located the wreck and she scared the local officials out of their wits with a direct consultation. She’s really thrilled for your promotion, Rowan, truly she is.’
The Rowan entertained a niggle of suspicion about Siglen being thrilled for her sudden advancement by Reidinger. Altair’s Prime had always maintained that the Rowan would not be ready for any responsibilities for years. Certainly the Rowan had never been called to account for her impertinence, and direct action, disregarding Siglen’s explicit orders. Still there was little point in any unnecessary bad feelings between herself and Altair’s Prime.
So, the Rowan purchased a plainly cut, flowing dinner dress in a pale gray – about the only color that wouldn’t clash with the flamboyant colors in Siglen’s dining area, with a silver torque, to make a subtle statement of her adult status. She presented herself at Siglen’s suite to be greeted by Bralla who nodded approvingly and ushered her into the reception area.
Siglen had made significant inroads on the dainty canapés which accompanied the aperitifs. Three places at the dining table meant that Bralla was included, a fact which reassured the Rowan.
Siglen initiated the conversation with a long explanation of systems updates which Reidinger had discussed with her at length. The Rowan listened politely all through the first three courses of which she ate only enough to be courteous.
‘It really is too mean of Reidinger to transfer you just when Altair will be upgraded. You could learn so much from the new equipment if you stay just a few more months here so that I can advise you.’
‘If it’s all new equipment, Siglen, you’ll be learning to operate it, too, won’t you?’ replied the Rowan logically.
She noticed the twitch of annoyance on the Prime’s face but she could find no break in the woman’s mental shield. The twitch expanded slightly into a weak smile.
‘I do wish you ate properly, my dear. I gave a good deal of thought to this evening’s meal. You are so thin and whatever will they think of me,’ a jeweled thumb pressed dramatically against Siglen’s large bosom, ‘and the way I have cared for you.’
‘The medics say I have an active metabolism, Siglen, and I’m unlikely ever to put on much extra weight.’
‘But you will need it, my dear, to sustain you.’ Siglen’s flabby face now registered extreme concern.
‘To sustain me? I believe the hydroponics units at the Callisto Station are state of the art and can supply every known edible fruit and vegetable.’
‘I’m sure you’ll be all right once you get to Callisto,’ and there was an ominous suggestion of imminent disaster in Siglen’s round tones.
‘Of course I’ll be all right on Callisto.’
‘Yes, but you have to get there!’
Then, to the Rowan’s utter amazement, Siglen burst into tears, covering her face with her napkin. She reached out a hand to grab the Rowan’s and there was no doubt of the woman’s concern and anxiety. The girl looked to Bralla for an explanation. Terror pulsed through Siglen’s fingers to the Rowan who worked her fingers free, wanting no part, however vicarious, of that particular emotion. Bralla looked equally upset, her mouth quivering.
‘What are you talking about, Siglen?’
Mopping her eyes, Siglen gave the Rowan a single woeful glance before propping both heavy arms on the table and once again giving way to noisy sobs.
‘It’s space, my dear,’ Bralla said, her expression rife with dread.
‘What do you mean?’
‘You know what travel in space does to Primes, Rowan,’ Bralla told her earnestly as if that explained everything. ‘David suffered agonies when he left here for Betelgeuse. He was so unwise to believe that a male Prime would be unaffected. Capella took three months to recover from her disorientation.’
‘I’ve ’ported myself from Favor Bay to Bardy’s Claimsite without any disorientation …’
‘But you were planet bound, with home gravity …’ Bralla argued.
‘And I’ve flown in shuttles all over Altair.’
‘Shuttles are not at all the same thing as being ’ported,’ Siglen said disputatiously. ‘Oh, I have dreaded this from the moment I heard the rumor about Callisto Station. I begged Reidinger to consider T-2s, any sort of combination but you, Rowan. I couldn’t let you, a mere baby, go through that terror so soon after your hideous ordeal. Now you don’t even have Lusena to support you in your hour of need.’
The Rowan hadn’t thought of that abortive attempt to send her three-year-old self to Earth for her training. But she did indeed remember the dark passage into the shuttle: into an enclosed space. The erratic motion of the Miraki through the Straits reinforced that ancient terror far too vividly.
‘Nonsense. I’ll be perfectly all right. I was a child and no-one had explained anything to me. They just said I had to …’ and she opened her eyes wide so as not to see the huge frightening maw they had been urging her into. ‘I do wish, Siglen, that you didn’t make a mountain out of a molehill. I’ll be perfectly all right.’
‘That’s what David said when I warned him about spatial disorientation. Capella believed me and went heavily sedated but it still took her three months to reorient herself. I wish I could spare you this when you have so recently lost your confidante. There isn’t one of the T-4s in Gerolaman’s course who’d be any use to you. Bralla agrees with me.’
Bralla nodded vigorously and the Rowan kept a tight grip on a growing vexation.
‘If I don’t find a T-4 from this group, I’m sure there’ll be plenty more willing to accept a promotion to a new Tower. Now, do please stop overdramatizing a simple ’portation. I know that you’ll make the shift with your usual skill, Siglen, so I’ve no worries at all.’
She stayed only as long as minimum politeness dictated and then went in search of Gerolaman.
‘Well, it’s true enough about David and Capella and she went completely sedated and cocooned in a special shock capsule,’ Gerolaman said. ‘I know Siglen was so sick she lost 5 kilos. And no Prime I’ve ever heard of has ever been able to ’port himself or herself through space. Reidinger went to the Moon once and never stirred off planet afterwards.’
‘I’m the youngest Prime, and healthy, athletic …’
‘Everything the others weren’t,’ Gerolaman finished with a malicious gleam in his eyes. ‘I’ll lay bets on you, m’girl. Now, what d’you think of that T-4, Forrie Tay?’
‘I don’t like him at all. He eyes me the way Siglen does a particularly creamy éclair a
nd he won’t meet my eyes. He slams shields up against even the most courteous request. I’d never be able to work with such a closed mind.’
‘Procyon’s sending over a T-4 female.’
‘I work better with a male pairing.’
‘Well, Siglen would have preferred to but Bralla was the only one to suit her, ever.’
‘Gerolaman, do I have to remind you that I am NOT remotely like Siglen.’
‘No, you don’t, Rowan, but we still have to form the nucleus of a working team before you reach Callisto!’
‘I’ll try the woman.’
Channi could not have been more of an opposite had a mad genetic scientist deliberately designed them. She was a half-meter taller than the Rowan, big-boned, a woman who moved with deliberation (probably because she was afraid of injuring someone smaller than her large self), and while she was tested as a T-4 rating in both telepathy and teleportation, the Rowan could not achieve any rapport.
‘She slows me up as if I was trying to work through a wall,’ the Rowan said and began to worry that she’d never assemble a cohesive Tower staff.
Where Gerolaman kept reassuring her that there was no question that she would soon find appropriate matches of skills and Talents, Bralla would appear with suggestions from Siglen which invariably proved totally useless. The time for the Rowan’s scheduled departure drew closer and she became more anxious to start out on the right note.
ROWAN! Reidinger’s unmistakable tones roared through her skull. Stop that fidgeting. You’ve got enough to run a Tower right now with the seven you’ve picked and the ten who’re waiting for you at Callisto. You’re going to have to relax. I don’t want you in a muck sweat when you board the transport.
And how are you betting on my survival? she demanded acidly.
On what? The genuine surprise in his tone reassured her more than the diatribe he launched when he understood what the bet was.
Mauli and Mick came to help her pack the things she would be transferring to Callisto. Their companionship helped ease the inevitable heartache as she came across gifts that Lusena had given her over the years. From his special caricase, Rascal alternated between acid comments on his incarceration and plaintive requests to be allowed out but he had proved too much of a nuisance, hiding in crates or attacking Mauli. When everything had been neatly stowed in the container, the Rowan with Mauli and Mick, ’ported it into its assigned place in the transport waiting on the cradle for the morning’s lift.
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