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.
With all respect, sir, we don’t need to go into that just yet, I think.
You know something I don’t? Reidinger seemed to leap on him.
No, but I refuse to be negative. Especially where the Rowan’s concerned.
Do you know how valuable that girl is?
To FT&T?
Don’t roar at me, Capellan Lyon! Then abruptly his mind-tone altered to one of immense and incredulous belief. She did it. She pulled him back, though I can sense only the most delicate of flickers. She knows she’s saved his life.
A wave of relief that was close to orgiastic surged through Afra at that report. He had to grip the arms of the chair to keep his balance, so intense was his sense of reprieve from disaster. He knew that Reidinger shared his reaction.
Thank God, if you believe in one, for that mercy.
I do, I will. My gratitude for sharing the news. You will keep us informed of the conditions on Deneb?
Of course! Reidinger said reassuringly. By way of parting, he shot, And Afra, I’ll want you to retest when all this is over. You can’t be merely T-4 with all the shenanigans you’ve enacted lately. T-3 at the least, so I’m upgrading you. And paying you accordingly, starting today. He chuckled. We’ll argue over backpay later.
Afra started to protest the unexpected, and possibly undeserved, promotion. But to argue with Earth Prime? Reidinger’s laugh cut through that thought.
Please! Argue! You need the practice! Then, including Ackerman back in his conversation, Reidinger added, I think it best that we all pretend I don’t know where the Rowan is. Afra was perplexed by that. Let’s just say that I’ve got games of my own to play, young Lyon. Until I tell you, the Rowan is not to know we talked. If she contacts you, behave accordingly. And then he was gone.
Brian and Afra exchanged surprised looks. “Well, you know he likes to play his games, Afra,” Brian said first.
Afra nodded, brow furrowed. “We will tell the others that he doesn’t know and we’ll continue as we did when they had their day off.”
Two days later the Rowan contacted him late at night. Afra was surprised that he could receive her, even with the gestalt of her generators over that distance. Maybe he was legitimately a T-3. He didn’t mention that as he carefully made note of the spare parts and electronic supplies she requested.
I may have to break them into smaller parcels than usual, Rowan, he said when he examined the complete list.
That’s all right. The generator here can’t handle too much, the Rowan replied forgivingly, then added, How are you holding up? Does Reidinger know?
Afra chuckled. We’re doing well enough. Generator three has magically developed a glitch which has reduced “your” ability to handle heavy traffic.
Oh, Afra! Thank you! Across the light-years, Afra felt the gentle caress of a grateful friend. He thanked Reidinger’s God for deliverance from a less appealing role.
* * *
In another few days, Afra heard from Reidinger, the contact announced by a deep chuckle echoing in his mind. I singed her ears off, Afra! But she gave as good as she got and begged me to send you a couple of T-2’s. Reidinger’s “voice” took on a different tone. Who do you want?
Afra shrugged. If it’s all the same with you, we’re doing well enough just now. Just keep our loads like this and we’ll manage.
Reidinger snorted. I just finished telling her I wouldn’t have her burnt out catching cargo unaided; do you think I’m fool enough to burn out her best man?
Afra was not aware that Reidinger was broadcasting until Brian Ackerman turned to him with a grin of agreement.
Sadly, Reidinger added, I myself am too busy to handle the increased load of Callisto, so I’m sending you a pair of T-2’s. I’m sure you’ll treat them well.
How’s the Rowan, Reidinger? Brian asked, boosting himself off of Afra.
Don’t you ever tell her, Reidinger returned with that incredible tenderness that so surprised the two stationers, but I think she’s doing just fine! He paused. Oh, and by the way, do you want to switch brands of whisky this year?
Brian Ackerman’s eyes widened in amazement; it was well known that when he used to threaten to resign from Callisto Station on a yearly basis, he was bribed to remain with a case of his favorite tipple, but it never once occurred to him that Earth Prime knew that!
Uh, no, I’ve gotten rather used to the Paddy’s now, Brian managed to respond. Beside him, Afra doubled over in a laughing fit.
Torshan and Saggoner duly arrived and the Tower staff, worked just slightly ragged in keeping with a cunning plan laid down by Brian and carried through by Afra, were more than pleased to have their aid. Although there were several teething troubles, the calm togetherness of the loving pair of T-2’s and Afra’s demanding performance standards soon had the Station operating at nearly peak efficiency within the week.
The routine was set in the next week and by the third week the station personnel had nearly forgotten life under their Rowan. It was shattered when a personal capsule arrived unheralded in a cradle.
Belay that! Afra called to a cargo handler who nearly crushed it with the capsule scheduled for that cradle. Afra was hot with anger at the near catastrophe. Who the hell put that capsule . . . he began, and then touched the mind inside it. ROWAN!
Pandemonium broke out as the rest of the Station heard his mental shout. Suddenly everyone ’ported in around her, patting her, talking to her, hugging her. The Rowan turned bright red in the face of such open affection. Afra sent a personal message on a tight beam to Torshan and Saggoner to explain the sudden disruption of his usually ordered Station. They accepted his explanation calmly, saying that they would work around the celebration.
The next day’s work, with the Rowan back, progressed with an incredible ease. Afra had forgotten how effortlessly she handled even the heaviest loads. Once the work was finished, Afra was contacted by the Rowan.
I need to talk to Reidinger, she told him, almost daring him to challenge her.
Is that wise? Afra replied, fretting that, somehow, she had discovered Reidinger’s duplicity.
He can’t be that bad! she responded, adding that Reidinger had no call to be angry over her absence. Afra responded diplomatically but somewhat defensively on behalf of Reidinger.
He gained a lot more than I risked, she told him.
Afra examined her carefully, noting the faint augmentation to her aura. His eyes narrowed. Was she putting on weight? No, at least not without good cause. I know, he responded warmly. Did the Rowan know her condition? Probably not, since she’d had other concerns to divert her from noticing a physiological change.
I’d like to surprise the old geezer, she continued.
Geezer? Afra spluttered, thinking that she was due for a few surprises herself, especially as she’d never been able to meet Reidinger face-to-face.
You’ve contacts at Earth Prime Headquarters. Can one of them sneak me in without having to announce my arrival?
The question startled him, so he continued to banter with her while thinking furiously under tight shields. First he’d have to warn Reidinger, and then Gollee, but he did assure the Rowan that he knew someone who might do him a favor. He begged a few minutes to arrange matters.
Reidinger? Afra called in the tightest telepathic shaft he could manage.
Wha’? was the gruff response. This better be good.
Hurriedly, Afra explained.
And it was good enough for he could “hear” Reidinger’s grin quite plainly. Excellent! I have to talk to her anyway and it’ll be better if she thinks she got me at a disadvantage. Here’s what we do . . .
Afra absorbed the instructions with a growing sense of betrayal. Reidinger perceived that and broke off. Afra, you know that I want the best for her. She needs a father figure, someone to rebel against. And I need her spirited, rebellious. We all do.
Privately, Afra remained unconvinced, but he couldn’t quarrel with Reidinger. And it might just have a beneficial effect on the Rowan’s growing recklessness. Now that she could travel without ill effect, who know to what le
ngths she might take her new freedom?
Thank you, Reidinger said, I’ll tell Gren.
Afra turned his attention back to the Rowan. Well, Gollee’s agreed to my especial request to escort my anonymous young friend as far as he’s able, but Security has to be placated. He’ll meet you at the landing field entrance.
Reidinger must have been listening discreetly to Afra’s answer, for Afra caught him swear. Keerist! Security! I’ll have to warn them or my security beams’ll fry her when she jumps in!
Afra turned hastily to call out to the Rowan, but she was already gone. Angrily, he growled, Reidinger!
Like gold dust, lad, Earth’s Prime Talent called back gently. I’ll treat her like she was my own blood. Uh-oh! She’s here! Reidinger faded out, and came back with: I meant to tell you—will tell you later . . .
Afra did not hear from Reidinger until the next morning as he was finishing his usual skimpy breakfast. “Altair?” Afra shouted aloud when Reidinger told him of his assignment for the Rowan. HOW COULD YOU?
I had to! Reidinger retorted sharply. Afra, who had spent years learning to read emotion, caught an undertone of pain in Earth Prime’s voice. It was the pain of command, the malaise that comes from having made too many disagreeable decisions; also, very deep, was the pain of a person who was just plain old. Afra hastily accessed his data console’s readout on Reidinger—he was approaching his one hundred and tenth birthday.
Afra considered telling Reidinger of the real reason for his anger at the Rowan’s reassignment but decided against it: the Rowan and Jeff Raven had the right of making that disclosure. Besides, Afra chided himself, he was not sure that the Rowan was pregnant. Nor that the child would be a boy and very Talented.
Besides, Reidinger added in a very small tone, I had to free you and Ackerman to perform a very special mission.
Don’t you think Callisto’s been disrupted enough without removing us? Afra returned tartly. He frowned at himself, both annoyed and amazed that he could react to the man who was, for all intents and purposes, Federal Telepath and Teleport.
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