“Navy is actively recruiting,” Afra said. “It’s a good career if they don’t fancy staying on here.”
Damia smiled fatuously at her mate, knowing the experiences with his own family which had generated such tolerance. What he did not ask his sons was if they had decided which duty they would take on their return to work.
Flavia was included in an evening appearance when the exploration of the Hive ship was discussed with miners and engineers of both species, eager to have firsthand information on the matter. They also wanted to know if the great new long-cruise Nebula-class ship had been completed. Thian wasn’t sure but said he suspected it would soon be launched. Its bulk had been noticeable in the working orbit it maintained about the Phobos Moon Base. No launch date had been mentioned and the disappointment of the men who had supplied the metals to build it was palpable.
“Is it because this planet is so new,” Flavia asked Damia on the way back to the Lyon home, “that everyone seems so…so relaxed with their Talents?”
Damia had to think about her answer. “Well, the Tower is perhaps more important to Aurigaeans since it’s still mainly a mining planet, and so much is imported. Also, even when I was here by myself, before my marriage to Afra, I was always accessible. Our children have grown up with their children—mine always ran wild on their ponies—their ’Dinis with ours.” She gave a sigh. “I’ll be sorry to see Aurigae spreading out and losing the closeness we’ve so enjoyed!”
“I’m lucky I’ve had a chance to see it,” Flavia said, her tone envious.
Damia laid a light finger on Flavia’s arm. “You would be welcome here any time.”
“That is very kind of you.” Flavia ducked her head so that her expression was obscured.
Don’t! Afra said sternly to his wife.
Really, Afra! As if I’d ignore protocol with someone we barely know.
Someone I think you’d like to know better.
She could hear the teasing in his mental tone. Kincaid has shown more interest in her than Thian.
Kincaid is not interested in women, Damia. Or hadn’t you caught that?
Damia managed not to gasp in surprise. She was rarely caught out. And Laria…
She twigged that the day he arrived but she likes him very much. That friendship already means a lot to him.
I must say the choice astonishes me. Surely Dad knew that about him…
Of course he did, but Kincaid’s worth salvaging and Laria’s so stable that she’d do that and give him a breathing space. Kincaid has more need of a real friend than a lover and she’d have the support personality she needs.
She also needs a man of her own. Damia’s tone was adamant!
She’s only twenty-three, dear heart.
I’d had her and Thian by her age.
She has an entirely different personality, darling, and Afra’s tone was teasing again, and your needs do not match. Now our Zara, who has also tagged Kincaid quite accurately, says he was in the midst of a destructive three-sided relationship that added more stress to a difficult enough assignment. He can relax at Clarf and heal—all the injured parts. Laria has her own soothing effect on people which is why Jeff tried such difficult ones as Stierlman and Clarissia at Clarf.
Tried? Damia shot a flash of anger at her father’s manipulative ploys.
Afra laughed. I think your father understands and appreciates Laria far more than even we do.
That remark both annoyed and mollified Damia. So how long must Laria wait to fulfill herself? she asked with some traces of indignation.
I have a suspicion that Laria only needs to look a little closer to those she already knows.
Yoshuk?
Vanteer.
Really?
I’m guessing but you’ll have noticed how often his name came up.
Damia thought about that on and off during the evening. She hadn’t met the Clarf Tower engineer, although she would have preferred a higher Talent than 6 for Laria. But that hadn’t, apparently, all that much to do with inheriting the genes that produced T-1s in totally unexpected families. Like Flavia…like the Rowan and Jeff Raven, for that matter.
* * *
The second week T-2 Clancy Sparrow, Lieutenant Senior Grade Rhodri Eagle and his youngest sister, Asia, the recently graduated honors engineer, arrived. None of them had been as far out as Iota Aurigae, even though they laughingly claimed Deneb IV was almost as remote in its quadrant of the inhabited galaxy.
Roddie, once the bane of the young Raven-Lyons’ adolescence, had improved beyond belief. Clancy, having so recently worked with Thian, Rojer and Flavia, eased himself into the household and asked permission to do some hunting if that was all right. Instantly he had Morag, Kaltia and Ewain begging their parents to be his guide. Permission was granted and the three younger Raven-Lyons swept their cousin to the stables.
Despite all the efforts of Damia, Laria and Afra to welcome and reassure Asia, she was stiff with uncertainty and so afraid to say or do something “wrong.” She didn’t even complain when half the household slithers decided to investigate her slender body where she sat, rigid on the stool on which she had seated herself, eschewing a large number of more comfortable, empty chairs.
Petra regarded Asia for a moment and then briskly walked up to her and unwound all the slithers.
“Next time say that you don’t like winding things crawling all over you,” Petra said, rather disgusted that anyone would put up with such inconvenience. She ignored Asia’s deep crimson blushing and, cocking her head, added: “D’you mind cats?”
“Oh no,” Asia hastily said.
“That’s a relief. What about Darbuls?”
Asia gulped. “What are Darbuls?” she asked in such a low, meek voice that Petra gawked at her for a moment before summoning one of the canine-like creatures. “Oh, they’re not bad either,” Asia said hastily, apparently trying to redeem herself in Petra’s eyes for being so silly about the slithers.
“I’ll tell the Coonies they’re to watch out for you,” Petra said with all the brash authority of a confident six-year-old. As she went off to do just that, she said to her parents: Someone here ought to do something positive about this Asia girl. She doesn’t know how to complain properly. The first Talent I’ve ever met with that problem.
Petra’s right. That one needs some major sorting out, Zara said to her mother, though her mental tone dripped with disgust for such abject self-effacement. Why on earth didn’t she peel the slithers off if their clinging was so abhorrent to her?
And why didn’t we notice her distress before Petra did? Damia responded, annoyed with herself that she had misinterpreted Asia’s quietness for courtesy.
She’s used to being ignored, isn’t she? Zara said after a moment’s thought.
Being the tenth of a big and noisy family that could produce Roddie would result in that posture, Damia said. And sighed. None of you allowed yourselves to be ignored for any length of time. Asia might be soothing company.
Zara gave her mother an odd glance to see if Damia was teasing, or serious.
A bit of both, dear.
She’s pretty, too, Zara remarked, if you look at the bones of her, though that outfit is not the best style for someone with bones to show off…well, that’d follow the personality problem. However, if she’d do a little something with herself…
You’re right, she is pretty, though I doubt she’s as delicate as she appears. The Eagles are a physically strong family. Afra, we must do what we can with this child, Damia told her husband. She’s got some Talent but she’s even locked that up as tight as hot-weather seed pod in snow.
Before any of them could stop him, Rojer walked up to Asia, took her by the hand and hauled her shrinking self up from the stool.
“I want you to meet my ’Dinis. I got the new improved models when I got home. Since you’re here to learn a few things from Xexo, I’ll just take you along and do the introductions. You’ll like Xexo,” Rojer said as he hauled his reluctant victim beside
him. “C’mon, now, Asia. I don’t want to hear a single moan of ‘Oh, I can’t do this’ out of you, d’you hear me?” Stay out of this, Zara, Asia’s mine! And, as he left the room with the girl, he shot a stern warning at his sister over Asia’s head. And a second one at his mother. I know you two ladies too well! You keep away.
Berated from such an unusual source, Zara and Damia exchanged bemused glances and grinned as they “heard” Rojer telling Asia all about the puzzle and how many pieces he had part credit for fitting together when all the engineers on Alliance worlds were trying to reconstruct the Great Sphere.
“Of course, that was before we all snitched Refugee out from under the Hivers’ noses.”
“Is our Rojer smitten?” Afra asked quietly of his womenfolk.
“I’m not quite sure…” Damia replied.
“Well on the way to it, if you ask me,” Zara said with a knowing sniff. “Deciding to protect someone who appears defenseless can lead to a meaningful relationship. Provided, of course, it doesn’t lead to an unsuitable overprotectiveness that inhibits the less-confident party.”
Damia grinned at her suddenly authoritative young daughter who was only just in control of her own hormones and burgeoning womanliness.
And don’t even think like that about me, Mother, Zara said with some asperity. I’ve learned a great deal, a very great deal, from Elizara and Isthia in the past three years. I’m qualified on first-level psychotherapy and Asia’s problem is not that complex.
Leave Asia alone. She doesn’t need two more mothers! came Rojer’s acid rejoinder.
Do as he says, Afra suggested, casting a mildly stern glance at wife and daughter.
Rhodri had changed into a very elegant leisure suit, remarking that it was a relief to be out of uniform as he passed his host and hostess. He took Zara by the arm and insinuated them both neatly into the group, comprised of Flavia, Laria, Thian, and Keylarion, the Tower expediter.
Later it was he who suggested they roll up the rugs and dance. If he danced more with Flavia than the Lyon girls, he also danced three times with Damia, two slow dances with Asia, one each with Morag and Kaltia and a boisterous polka with Petra, a dance which he insisted was well within the scope of the ’Dinis and shortly had them cavorting as wildly as he and Petra.
And he’s Asia’s older brother? was Zara’s enigmatic comment.
People come in all shapes and forms, Afra said, even mentally breathless from his exertions with Damia as his polka partner. Then he smiled broadly at Petra’s prim curtsy when Rojer took her hand for a waltz, the next dance on the tape of assorted musics.
Was or was not Petra ’porting half the time Rhodri was flinging her about? Damia asked, mopping her perspiring face with one hand while she worked a fan with the other.
I doubt it. She’s as agile as a slither anyhow. Afra sank to one of the chairs pulled to the side of the large room and ’ported himself a long cool drink of water.
There were all kinds of wines, beers and assorted spirits set out on the refreshment table. While a medium strong, cold Aurigaean beer would have been appropriate, Afra was already charged with the heady ambience in which young, high spirits devoted themselves to fun dancing.
Asia was not allowed to sit by herself. Either Rojer or Xexo, who had suddenly presented himself for the family evening—he was more often involved with ailing mechanical objects—sat or danced with her. Apparently she didn’t like the more exuberant dances and that preference was catered to. But, if she sat a dance out, Rojer, Xexo and one of the Coonies—to keep the slithers away, so Petra had informed him—were with her.
Afra would have been delighted to dance with her, for he too deplored her lack of self-esteem and confidence. He also had the thought that the rambunctiousness of his family might be too overpowering for her, being similar to what she contended with in her own home. He would have danced with her, as he had with Flavia, Damia and each of his daughters, but she reacted so negatively to his approach that he pretended to be winded and sat down beside her, emanating as much reassurance and kindliness as he could without her awareness. But she was closed down too tightly even for his gentle pervasions.
The next morning, he and Damia attended to their Tower duties, though Keylarion moved carefully and admitted to aching muscles from so much dancing. Xexo was all businesslike, announcing that Rojer and Asia were with him, learning more about Tower requirements. Teleportations and telepathic messages were both light so that the Tower could be put “on call” and its resident Talents returned to the house to find a sleepy Clancy being fed by Morag and her ’Dinis. Roddie had “asked” for a bucket of coffee which Petra had insisted she was able to bring, with her ’Dinis carrying cup, sweetener and milk. Denebians were known to drink quantities of milk even in their mature years.
Clancy, Damia began on a tight line to the T-2, are you awake enough to talk about Asia?
Clancy gave his hostess a quick and not at all sleepy look before resuming that pose. There have been times when I’ve suspected that our Asia puts on an act…
That’s no act, Clancy…
…No, it’s been borne in on me that it’s for real. And how could I let such a thing happen to my sweetest cousin? Clancy sighed, took another sip of coffee and smiled gratefully at Morag, who presented him with a cooked breakfast of gargantuan proportions. It just happened. You know what Roddie’s like—well, there were thirteen others in the house, too, and I suspect Aunt Alicia was relieved to have even one who was quiet and content to do things on her own, and responsible enough not to need much supervision. Asia’s always been responsible, and quiet, and self-effacing. It’s only after not seeing her for a while—and hearing how Roj has been going on about “negligence” and “deprivation” that I realized that she was deprived and neglected. Only what’s to do now? She’s smart as she can be, got enough Talent to get along most places. She used to repair all the machinery at our place as well as Aunt Alicia’s. We kids used to tease her that she’d rather play with machinery than play with us. He grimaced.
“Doesn’t it taste good, Clancy?” Morag asked anxiously.
“Breakfast tastes real good, Morag m’darling. It’s that my feet are killing me from all the dancing last night.” His grin reassured Morag.
“Are you really my cousin?” she demanded, half of him and half of her parents.
“Second or third cousin, I believe,” Clancy said, plowing his way through the eggs, potatoes, beans, grilled tomatoes and fungi on his plate.
“And do you really have to report back to Blundell in just six more days?”
Clancy, she’s thirteen! Damia said on a tight line as she recognized the adolescent symptoms in her daughter.
Don’t think I don’t regret that, Damia. You’ve mothered a brood of heartbreakers, so you have, and it’s not fair on poor mortals like us Denebian backwater boonies.
Backwater? Boonies? Then Damia burst out laughing, knowing that Clancy would handle Morag’s crush gently. Don’t ever let my father hear you say that!
It’s your father I learned the words from, but I’d never have the gall to repeat them near your mother!
Roddie appeared next and it was his intention to swim off the exertions of the evening before and that seemed like such a good idea that the heated pool was crowded by the time the last Lyon arose.
“Thought you’d like to hear what else happened,” Roddie said to Rojer, Thian and Flavia after brunch, when they found themselves more or less alone in the lounge area.
“Like what?” Thian asked.
Roddie grinned. “Our queen’s hatched up a lot more specialty creatures and, while I don’t know for sure, I’d say she was assembling a crew to help her fly Refugee out of her vile durance.” He paused, waited a beat, and then went on. “She’s a lot more active, too, and sends the scurriers out on all kinds of errands. Some of the new hatchings are the kind that would go down the conduits and pipe lines I understand connect the Refugee. And she’s got a couple of big bruisers we coul
dn’t quite figure out a need for. They’re not true males so it isn’t a mating she’s after. She’s also started planting…of all things…the seeds and pips she’s saved from her food. Used her own dung to plant ’em in. Got herself a trio to take care of the garden, too.”
“What sort of things is she growing?” Flavia asked.
“Broadleaf plants,” said Roddie with a significant wink and nod.
“That’s going to be one disappointed female,” Thian said with a thin smile.
“Counting on hatched eggs isn’t wise,” Rojer said.
“No, no, you mean don’t count your eggs until they’re hatched,” Thian said.
“Uh-uh,” Roddie put in, waggling an index finger. “You’ve both got it wrong. It’s putting all your eggs in one basket.”
“What are you talking about?” Laria asked, joining them.
Each one answered simultaneously. “Eggs!” “Chickens!” “Expectations!”
Rojer looked about him, concerned. “Where’d Asia get to?” When no one knew, he went to the kitchen. “Mother, you seen Asia?”
“Xexo has her,” Damia said, and added to Rojer’s disappearing form. “She is here to learn Tower engineering, you know.”
CHAPTER
SIX
THE last day of their holiday Rojer, Thian and Flavia were asked to attend the Tower for a conference with Earth Prime.
Thian wondered if Rojer felt as odd as he did, to be sitting on their own, on their parents’ couches. The generator silence, too, was unusual, but then a link between Primes did not require the use of the gestalt. That fact gave Thian a certain glow of satisfaction—probably about to be blasted by whatever his grandfather had in mind for him.
Isthian Lyon, Rojer Lyon, Flavia Bastianmajani, Jeff Raven said, stating the official nature of the interview, I know I offered you choice in your next assignments but there have been some unusual developments. I heard that groan, Thian.
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