The Tower and the Hive

by MCCAFFREY, ANNE

  “The family has, until recently, handled the Tower,” Gren was saying, and Beliakin paid attention, trying to catch any shielded thought. Gren did have unusually tight barriers, but his public mind was quite open as he went on. “As you probably know, all the Raven-Lyon children are T-1’s, so they are assigned off-planet to broaden their experience. They’re down to the two youngest, who are not old enough to assist as fully. You would be working with several indigenous Aurigaeans who had breakthrough stimulation similar to your own—a mining accident in their case.” Gren’s expression was rueful. “It’s easier if one comes less abruptly to the emergence of Talent, but we can use every one we can classify. Both Damia and Afra have had experience with bringing on latent Talents.”

  “Yes, of course,” Beliakin said, realizing some comment on his part would be courteous.

  “That also was a factor in assigning you to Iota Aurigae. A T-2 of your kinetic strength is such a find for FT&T at this particular moment in time”—Gren smiled in a manner that bordered on apology—“that perhaps we might have pushed you a tad too quickly where your abilities were most needed, with the mass of material Clarf Tower’s had to process lately. The Lyons—and rightly—are treated with great caution and respect. It wasn’t easy to find suitable Talents for Clarf.”

  Gren sounded sincere, Beliakin thought. Perhaps Clarissia Negeva had simply not been up to the work on Clarf and transferred before she could mess things up. Or the Prime hadn’t liked her. That was more understandable. Negeva was not an attractive person ... and xenophobic too. Not a good mind-set for working on Clarf. Perhaps he should avoid any further contact with her. Their cases were not at all similar.

  “There’s also good hunting on Iota Aurigae, which is, I realize from your transcript, one of your avocations. Tower House has an excellent stable and the hills are full of game, large and small and not so easy to bring down, I might add.” Gren’s lips twitched as if he was remembering unsuccessful experiences. “Damia has issued an invitation for you to stay with the family if you wish—though there are new and well-appointed apartments in the city and transport would be no problem for you.” He consulted his notepad, checking off another item. “Living accommodation is in addition to your salary, and you have the usual privileges of importing whenever drone space is available. It usually is. Drones may be full enough leaving Iota Aurigae, but they’re mainly empty on the return trip. Personal effects above and beyond what will fit in a personnel carrier will be forwarded ...” Beliakin waved aside that consideration, since he had little in the way of impedimenta and no wish to import anything from a homeworld that had little to recommend it except that he had escaped its bucolic lifestyle. “Would you be agreeable to leaving here at twenty-two hundred hours?”

  “Today?”

  “Yes, if that’s convenient. You’d arrive late afternoon at Aurigae and be able to settle in before dinner.” Gren regarded him and then added, “I believe there’re six big daddies—as they call the ore transports—to be heaved to Betelgeuse tomorrow, so you’d have a chance to demonstrate your kinetic abilities. Which, may I say, are the strongest we’ve ever measured in a latecomer.”

  While Vagrian Beliakin knew this to be very true, he accepted that assessment modestly. Gren flipped down the cover of his notepad to indicate the formal interview was over, and stood.

  “I am certain that Iota Aurigae Tower will appreciate your presence and your willingness to accept the posting on so little advance notice.”

  As Beliakin reached the door, considerably relieved, Gren had a final comment.

  “You also have the best wishes of Earth Prime and his regrets that he could not be present at this hour to wish you well.”

  If that was an additional apology for the humiliation Beliakin had suffered at the whimsy of Earth Prime’s granddaughter, Vagrian accepted it in a gracious manner. He might come out of that initial disaster well ahead in FT&T. He would certainly bend every effort to do so.

  “You’re just getting us out of the way before Beliakin gets here,” Morag said fiercely, although she wanted to get to Clarf as fast as her parents seemingly wished her there.

  “How old are you?” her mother asked, with a slight strain showing in her patience.

  “Well, he’s supposed to be absolutely gorgeous...” Morag said wistfully.

  Afra laughed. “A good seven years your senior, love, and far too practiced a—”

  “Lover,” Damia said bluntly, “for my young and relatively inexperienced daughter.” She cocked an eyebrow at Morag, making it plain that she was aware of Morag’s experiments with young miners in the capital city.

  Morag made nervous adjustments of her personal belongings under the couch of the carrier rather than meet her mother’s shrewd and knowing eyes.

  “You’ve been well instructed on how to handle ... such matters,” Damia went on. “Do not fail to protect both yourself and the object of your affections.”

  “No, Mother,” Morag said solemnly, for she vividly recalled the pain in Damia’s eyes when, in the course of handling her daughters’ sex education, she had confessed the terrible damage she had inadvertently done her first young lover.

  “No, Mother,” Kaltia agreed as quietly.

  “There is quite a large Human Compound on Clarf now, so I suspect that there will be opportunities for a social life while you’re there.” Damia hugged first Morag and then Kaltia, keeping an exceedingly tight hold on how much she would miss them, despite their sibling bickering. There had been a certain justice in Petra’s remark that she and Ewain would have more of their parents’ time now. Both she and Afra intended to spend more time with the two youngest of their brood. Indeed, Damia was not too old ...

  You may not be, lover, but I most certainly am, Afra inserted into her mind, with such intensity that she had to keep from laughing at his vehemence.

  Then it was Afra’s turn to bid his daughters farewell and he held each for a long moment in his arms before he released them to enter the personnel carrier. Their ’Dinis were chattering excitedly about actually getting to Clarf, the Mrdini homeworld.

  Xexo and Keylarion smiled and grinned as the cover locked into place. There was no need for the practiced Talents of Iota Aurigae to return to their Tower couches to speed the light carrier on its way. But all could hear the generators change tone as first Damia alerted Laria at Clarf Tower that her sisters were on their way, and then father and mother sent the carrier on its almost instantaneous long-distance journey. Xexo muttered something about an odd squeal from Generator B and Keylarion said she’d best check that the big daddies would be ready to ship once they had this strong kinetic Talent in the Tower.

  “Have we time for lunch before they send Beliakin on?” Afra asked.

  “Gollee said he wouldn’t arrive until the girls were away,” Damia said. “Twenty-two hundred hours Earth time.”

  “Midafternoon here, then. We’ve time for lunch and a swim.”

  “We’ve enough from the last hunt?”

  Afra sighed with amusement. “I’m not sure there’ll be any left for this Beliakin. Gollee says he likes to hunt.”

  “Well, we certainly won’t stand in the way of that, now will we?” She started back to the house.

  “How long did he and Clarissia talk?” Jeff Raven asked Gren.

  “Not long, but perhaps long enough.”

  “What was his reaction to his posting?”

  Gollee chuckled, crossing his legs at the ankles and relaxing. “He was startled because he certainly didn’t expect to be at a major Tower, especially at the one managed by the father and mother of the woman who humiliated him so. From the first I’ve maintained that Laria’s rejection is known only to you, me and Clarf Tower, which has not even mentioned it. If he thinks we’ve told Damia and Afra, and they’re in some way expiating their daughter’s rejection, all to the good ... unless of course Damia reads it in him.”

  “She’s got the capability,” Jeff said, “but she’s got to have a s
trong kinetic, and both Afra and Damia know the pressures Laria’s under. Considering how Beliakin comes on to women, my hindsight is now clear enough to realize that his brand of charisma would put Laria’s hackles up.”

  “True,” Gollee said, grinning. “He certainly cut a swath through the feminine complement of Blundell Tower. Tarmina allowed as how—” Gollee grinned—“he’s most unusual.”

  Jeff chuckled. “She’d know.”

  “She’s offered to take on any others like him anytime you choose.”

  “She would.” Jeff caught Gollee’s tilted eyebrow. “None of that, Gren. I know she tried to get you in bed too. If I wasn’t well married to Rowan, I should have been sorely tempted.”

  “At least Tarmina takes refusal in good part,” Gollee said, clearing his throat. “If we could be sure Beliakin might forgive and forget, I’d rest easier.”

  “I count on Damia’s expertise as well as her immunity to the sort of charisma Beliakin dispenses. You handled this well, Gollee, and I appreciate it. However, did you perceive how susceptible he might be to what Clarissia’s group is peddling?”

  Gren snorted. “Depending on his success at Iota Aurigae, plus the fact that Clarissia was exactly the wrong female personality to make contact with him, I doubt he’d jeopardize what could be a very useful career with FT&T. She’s her own worst enemy, that one, even if she thought she could capitalize on Beliakin’s abrupt dismissal from Clarf. Though how she knew of that needs to be discovered.”

  “Damn.” Jeff swung his gimbaled chair from side to side in an agitated manner, running his hand through his thick dark hair. “It’s so much more to our advantage to catch Talents young enough so that the basic conditioning is completed. A wild card like Beliakin could prove very dangerous, especially in today’s volatile political and economic situations.”

  “Well, he’s in the best place for some fine tuning, Jeff. And if he does well there, there’s any number of postings where he’d be invaluable. I think that’s the ploy to use ... support that ego of his, nurturing it until what the dissidents offer wouldn’t tempt him.”

  “It’s that ego of his I worry about.” Jeff slapped one fist on the desktop. “Stupid of me to assume the man would have sense enough to be tactful. At least until he’d settled into Clarf Tower. He was so deferential to Rowan.”

  “Who isn’t?” Gollee said with a laugh. “And if he managed to fool her...” Gren let his sentence trail off. “Your children tend to find their own mates, Jeff. And so far, they’ve done exceedingly well. Give your grandkids the same leeway.”

  Jeff made a face. “My dynastic leanings are obvious, aren’t they?”

  “The Gwyn-Raven line is not the only one to produce TI’s.” Gren paused. “Just the most reliable.”

  All four of the senior Tower staff at Iota Aurigae were in the yard when Vagrian Beliakin’s personnel carrier was gently cradled. His ear caught the contented purr of generators that had had little to do with his transport. The lid was cracked and crisp cool air with a mountainy tang to it flooded in.

  That was enough right there to please him after the blast of hot air that had greeted him on Clarf.

  “Welcome to Iota Aurigae, Vagrian Beliakin,” said one of the most stunning women Beliakin had ever seen. And not just beautiful in a classic way, but so vital that she seemed to have an almost visible aura around her. To his surprise, she extended her hand and he found himself responding, while all his initial impressions were reinforced by rich/green/spice in that deft, but far too short, contact. “I’m Damia Lyon. This is my husband, Afra.”

  The lean man, much, much older than Damia, smiled in warm greeting as he extended his hand. Vagrian was still so shaken by touching the Prime that he almost missed the strength of Afra’s equally electric contact.

  What a pair, Beliakin thought, as deeply as he could keep such a startled assessment. The mother was so dramatically different from Laria that he couldn’t believe they were related, save for the distinctive white lock all Gwyn-Raven-Lyon offspring seemed to have. Until he took a second, longer look at Afra. Then he saw where Laria had inherited her looks.

  “Let me introduce you to Keylarion, our station expediter.” Though the woman—probably the same age as Damia—touched hands with him, he got very little more than deep blue and pine.

  “Xexo here is our engineer.” Damia now presented the gnarled older man who stepped forward.

  “Pleased,” was Xexo’s comment, and his touch was oily/black/pungent. Exactly what one would expect of an engineer.

  “We’ve four trainees but you can meet them later, Vagrian,” Damia said. “You didn’t bring much with you,” she added as Xexo casually slung the heaviest of the duffels out of the personnel carrier.

  “Always travel light,” Vagrian said, keeping his smile pleasant and his manner quiet, struggling to restore his composure and a public show of confident ease. He hauled out the other two.

  “I’ll just ’port them to your room,” Damia said, and all three disappeared.

  “I should have done that,” Vagrian said.

  “I know where the room is,” she said with an engaging grin. Then she gestured toward the well-worn path to the house he could see sitting on its height. “Bit of a walk.”

  “Not in this marvelous air.” He breathed deeply, catching himself before he had expanded his chest ostentatiously. “It’s like a fine wine.”

  “One of the fringe benefits,” Afra remarked as they set out.

  Aware that neither Xexo nor Keylarion was following, Beliakin looked around.

  “Xexo isn’t happy with the B generator,” Damia said, grinning at the vagaries of her engineer, “and Keylarion’s checking the coordinates for tomorrow’s cargo. Did anyone warn you that you’ll be put to work tomorrow and that we lift them straight from the mine yards?”

  “Gollee Gren did mention big daddies,” Vagrian said, “not that we lifted them from sites.”

  In his mind with alarming ease came a picture of the immense drone that he was to help shift the next day.

  “Well, there’d be few cradles that size.” While he responded as surprised as he was supposed to be by the size and tonnage of a drone full of ore, he felt no qualms at all about managing such weights. That had been his specialty ever since he’d diverted that mud slide on Altair. “Did I understand Gren correctly that your children have been helping you shift those things?”

  Damia chuckled. “Only when they are old enough. In a merge with Afra and myself, we could add their strength without stressing them. I’ve seen your testings, Vagrian, and I must say that I’m impressed by your solo shifts.”

  “I’m not good at much else, though, in any other Talent range,” he said, with what he thought was exactly the right note of modesty.

  “You wouldn’t need to be,” Afra said with a chuckle.

  By then they had reached the steps up to the house, and Beliakin emitted a startled cry when Darbuls, slithers and Coonies charged out of wherever they had hidden themselves.

  “Forgot to warn you, Vagrian,” Damia said as she “ordered” the mass of striped, mottled, tabbied and plain-colored creatures to clear away. “Don’t tell me Gollee forgot to warn you about the menagerie.”

  “He mentioned horses.” Beliakin was looking all around him, not wanting to step on someone’s favorite beast ... unless one of Laria’s was identified to him.

  Suddenly all of the beasts were sitting quietly, watching him; even the slithers had coiled their supple bodies into compact circles.

  “Each of our children and their ’Dinis have favorites, which of course are prohibited from going with them, so we inherited the whole zoo,” Afra said, picking up one of the Coons and stroking its creamy orange fur. “You don’t have an allergy to any of these, do you?” He gestured to the herd.

  “Oh, no, no. In fact, the only ones I recognize are the felines. I thought they didn’t like snakes.” Vagrian had been able to stifle the brief panic he’d felt surrounded by so many strang
e beasts.

  “Slithers are not precisely reptilian,” Damia said, allowing one to twine itself about her forearm. “But they are the favored pets of our ’Dinis. If you don’t care for them, just gently disengage any that try to cling to you. They take hints quickly.”

  “Yes, that’s good to know.”

  “They also stay outside,” Afra said, “unless their ’Dinis are here.”

  “I see.”

  “This way, Vagrian,” Damia said, gesturing up the broad stone steps to the wide sheltering porch of the house. Three Coons and two Darbuls followed her; none of the slithers did. “Our ’Dinis are currently in their hibernatory, though you’ll meet the pairs my two remaining youngsters have. They’re out hunting. I gather you enjoy the sport?”

  “Yes, I do,” Vagrian said.

  “And you ride?” Damia gave him a measuring look. “I suspect we can mount you adequately.”

  “Yes, I originate from Altair...”

  “Yes, you’d ride, all right,” Afra remarked approvingly.

  “Your room is just up these stairs.” Damia said. “If you’ll do the honors, Afra, I’ll get us something to snack on.”

  The room was certainly an improvement on his quarters in Blundell Tower, Vagrian thought, and Damia had neatly ’ported the two smaller sacks to the wide bed and the large duffel to a luggage stand. The door to the right was ajar and showed the usual bathroom fixtures. It was, however, the view from the double windows of the room which got his full attention, showing a breathtaking panoramic view of the distant city and the shore it bordered.

  “Never seen anything like it,” Vagrian said quite truthfully, going to the nearest window and opening it. He took another deep breath of the exhilarating air. “Blundell never smelled this good.”

  Afra smiled. “I’ll leave you to get settled in.”

  Well? Damia asked pointedly when Afra joined her in the kitchen.

  Interesting personality.