Damia's Children

by Anne McCaffrey

“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.”

  Rojer grinned, imagining the ruckus his grandparents would make if anything did happen to a Prime grandson.

  “We’ll keep in touch, too,” Damia said, combing her fingers through the white lock which Rojer kept short. “We’re only a thought away wherever you are.”

  “I know, Mom, Dad, but I don’t think you ought to tell Zara where I’m going. I think she’d freak out.”

  Damia nodded, pursing her lips. “I must ask Elizara to come visit her namesake. Maybe this is just a phase she’s going through. It’s not like my family, and certainly not like your father’s.”

  “All our children are individuals in their own right, Damia.”

  “I know!”

  CHAPTER

  ELEVEN

  CAPTAIN Osullivan of the Genesee himself welcomed Rojer Lyon on board and politely but firmly took control of the courier pouch that Rojer had been sternly charged to deliver only into the captain’s hand. His personal carrier, with drones attached like oblong satellites around it, was ’ported by the efforts of Callisto, Earth, Aurigaen, and Denebian Primes. That gave Rojer some indication of how very far from his part of the galaxy the B Squadron was.

  A thought away, indeed, he thought. More like a hoarse whisper.

  That’s all you know about it, young man, said his grandmother’s unmistakable voice, fainter than usual but clear. I can’t abide cocky youngsters. There was, for Rojer’s peace of mind, the ripple of amusement in her tone.

  The two drones directly obstructing his hatch were shifted and it was opened. Neither he nor his two ’Dinis suffered any untoward effect from the atmosphere on board: the Genesee, being the prototype Constellation class vessel, had an extremely efficient oxygen regeneration program: sgli plants played a large part in air filtration.

  Rojer shook right hands with the captain: with left hands, Rojer released the documents pouch to its stated recipient. Osullivan, a tall man in his sixth decade, fit, slightly balding but urbane, gave not the slightest reaction, as others behind him did, that such a young person had been entrusted with the courier pouch and had helped bring the drone supplies. The captain then introduced Rojer to the lieutenant who would be his aide while on board. He also issued an invitation for Rojer with Grl and Ktg—whose names he had no trouble pronouncing—to join him and his officers at dinner at 1930 hours. He then excused himself, courier bag clasped tightly to his side, and, nodding right and left to the dawdling crewmembers to get back to their work, left the bay.

  Lieutenant junior grade Lin Xing Tsu, a slight wiry young man with so close a haircut that his sallow scalp showed through his black hair, immediately picked up Rojer’s one duffel and led the way to his quarters.

  Lin was obviously proud of the Genesee, recently commissioned and on her maiden voyage, and described her amenities in glowing detail as they traversed the passageways. As they passed some of the more important features, or Lin indicated which lift to take to reach the gym, sick bay, and commissary, Rojer began to feel more assured. He, Gil, and Kat were shown into a stateroom, not quite as large as the one Thian had occupied as described by Damia, but certainly not the cramped cabin that had been his brother’s first accommodation on the Vadim.

  “Can I get a little something to eat . . . to tide me over until dinner?” Rojer asked because he had left Aurigae just after breakfast, arrived before lunch at Callisto where the drones were attached to his capsule, and arrived after the noon meal on the Genesee.

  Smiling, Lin inclined his head. “Sure thing! Considering you brought us several tons or more of food, you’re entitled to a decent meal. Betcha all the edibles are already in the galley and storage.”

  As they made their way back to the messhall, Rojer asked, “Is there a piece table aboard this ship?”

  “A peace table?” Lin slowed to glance back over his shoulder in surprise at Rojer. “We haven’t declared war yet. How can we make peace?”

  “Not that kind of peace.” Rojer spelled out the correct one. “You know, Hive ship pieces . . . Putting them together?” His explanation fell on puzzled ears. “On the Beijing, they had all the pieces, in scale of course, of the Hive ship that was caught by the nova shock wave. The one that the Vadim squadron found? People are trying to put it back together . . .”

  Lin still didn’t understand, so while Rojer continued to explain, he glumly realized that he’d have no more chance of participation. Probably by the time this mission ended, the wreck would have been totally reconstructed. He’d so wanted to be part of that effort.

  “Maybe Lieutenant Gander would know,” Lin said helpfully, “he’s the Morale officer.”

  “You have seen a tape of the queen’s emergence, haven’t you?”

  “Queen? Didn’t know there were any left on Earth! Or is it Procyon that has a royal family?”

  “I’m referring to the Hiver queen that was found alive in an escape pod.”

  “You don’t say? A live Hive queen? O
ooh! Wouldn’t want to see that!”

  “Actually, she’s quite beautifully colored,” Rojer said, speaking in the most diffident manner. This was a warship, chasing a Hiver vessel, and their attitude toward a Hive queen would reflect that. “They’ve put her in Heinlein Base on Earth’s moon.”

  “Thought that installation was decommissioned decades ago.”

  “It was, but it’s been reopened to accommodate the queen. She can’t get out of there.”

  “Who’d want to get in?” Lin wanted to know.

  “Your ship’s really been out of touch,” Rojer said, shaking his head.

  “Oh, we know what we need to know,” Lin assured him affably. “We’re more interested in what’s likely to happen than what has! Here we are,” he added unnecessarily for the smell of roasting meat wafted appetizingly from the corridor.

  A meal was cheerfully set before him.

  “A single zap and you’d never know it wasn’t freshly prepared,” the cook’s mate said as he was served a piping hot plate. “We allus has somethin’ for the watch. You really a Talent, kid?”

  “So they tell me,” Rojer said, grinning. He didn’t mind being called a “kid” by a seaman so grizzled he was probably older than Grandfather Raven. Then Rojer half-goggled at the multicolored pictures on the sailor’s massive forearms: tattoos, he thought they were called.

  “Where’d you get them?” he asked between attempts to cool his food enough to put it in his mouth. The plate had been well zapped.

  “Ah, now these, me laddie buck, are the result of a wager . . .” Settling into the seat opposite Rojer and Lin the mate proceeded to embellish a tale almost as garish as his forearms.

  “Mr. Lyon here,” Lin began when the tale was over and duly appreciated, “says they caught a Hiver queen. Got her locked up on Heinlein Base.”

  “Do they?” and the mate was either skeptical or not easily impressed.

  “She’s laid eggs,” Rojer said, hoping to generate some interest.

  “Well, laddie buck, in a month or two, we may see more eggs’n she’ll ever lay,” the mate said, rising to his feet. “Aye, wouldn’t doubt we’d see more. That’s a Hiver system we’re coming to. Knew we’d find one sometimes. Glad I’ve lived to see the day. I’m Denebian, you see, so vengeance is mine! Enjoy your meal.”