Lyon's Pride

by Anne McCaffrey

  “Not that Rojer needs it,” Thian said in a bland tone and a shrug of his shoulders. “Straight transfers of carriers to the Refugee airlock, and then we act as guiding lights. And we rescue when required. You know how many tubes a Hiver ship has!”

  Rojer nodded solemnly while the admiral, unaccustomed to being interrupted, hesitated for one beat before smoothly continuing. “…Then there is no further need for delay, is there?” He turned to Glmtml. “Your team is now assembled for transfer?”

  “All are,” Glmtml said, deferentially switching to Basic, since the admiral apparently was not fluent in ’Dini.

  “Then let us proceed with Operation Illuminate,” and the admiral turned his basilisk stare on the two Talents. He snapped his fingers behind his back and one of the waiting ensigns leapt forward.

  The very gesture raised Rojer’s hackles. Maybe an admiral had prerogatives a space captain didn’t, but the implied absolute obedience to such a discourteous summons rankled.

  Why do you think I enjoy baiting him so much, Roj? Thian said.

  “Escort the Primes to their ready room, Ensign.”

  “No need for such ceremony, Admiral,” Thian replied. “I know where we’re stationed,” and he shot Rojer a mental picture of where they were going—a small room with three Tower couches. The room already had one occupant.

  More surprises, Thian?

  Thian grinned. This evaluation operation is going to take all three of us and wish we were more. Let’s go. I love ’porting away from him. He hates it and there’s not a thing he can do about it since ’porting expedites troop movement. “My compliments and best wishes, Glmtml.”

  Rojer had only time for a similar courtesy before his brother ’ported away. He followed.

  That admiral had better watch himself, said the very pretty occupant of the room as Rojer and Thian appeared. He has female officers. Why do I have to creep about the place like an anathema, Thian?

  “I told you that you should flaunt yourself, Flavia. This is, obviously, my brother Rojer, who will remember his manners when he stops gawking at you.”

  Completely surprised by the sight of such a lovely woman, Rojer willingly held out his hand to touch hers. Green/minty/velvet. Flavia smiled quite gently back at him and then turned with a businesslike attitude to Thian.

  “They’ve got the right sort of beams now, and I think every single marine and Mrdini is festooned with more light cells than Noel trees,” she said as she slipped gracefully onto her couch.

  Thian directed Rojer’s attention to the huge transparent three-dimensional screen that dominated the wall facing their couches. At the point which Rojer also identified as the main hangar deck of the Refugee, there were three colored globes: blue, green and yellow. Concentrating briefly on that area, Rojer also sensed a large number of Humans and ’Dinis.

  “Rojer, I’m supposedly in nominal charge of our part in this operation,” Thian said. “That board’ll light up with each centimeter we cover so we’ll know where we’ve been. I know you had a little look round the Refugee…”

  “Through a glass darkly, bro, since the inside was still fogged with gas…”

  “Since you’re so full of engineering honors, you get to hunt for the engine room…”

  “I found it before—I think.”

  “In the southern hemisphere, yes? Good. My priority is the life-support system which the boffins think might surround the central axis.”

  “Are they suited up?” Rojer asked.

  “No, the Navy flooded the ship with enough oxygen to fill a volume of enclosed space equal to the size of the Great Sphere, and there’s an auxiliary system as backup stuck off in the corner of the hangar. Plus, everyone’s packing an emergency breather. The sooner we get the integral life-support system going, the better. The other priority for you is finding out what sort of fuel the Hivers use that’d also be stored in the southern hemisphere of the ship. Flavia,” and Thian grinned at the girl, “is going to penetrate into the queens’ quarters and we might need you to switch there, too, Rojer, to figure out how to turn the power on. Mostly we gotta keep track of people who get into trouble, slipping off into tunnels and getting stuck in the small tubes.”

  “Like you did on the Great Sphere, huh?”

  Thian gave his brother a mock scowl. “I was following orders when I found the larvae.”

  “Still comes down to baby-sitting,” Rojer said with a spurious groan.

  “I wouldn’t let any of the marines hear you put it like that, Rojer,” Flavia said in mock warning.

  “Marines can break legs just like anyone else,” Rojer replied flippantly.

  “Not with this admiral,” Thian said tartly. “Everybody comfortable? Good, then,” and he pointed to the red light blinking on the com unit, “the boffins are all loaded. Let’s hoist ’em up there.”

  Rojer turned his attention then to three large carriers, each filled with excited men and Mrdinis, cradled and waiting to be ’ported up to the ship.

  “Okay?” Thian said, looking from one side to the other.

  Flavia and Rojer both nodded and simultaneously the three Primes lifted the carriers and deposited them in a neat line on the Refugee’s hangar deck where once the deadly Hiver scout ships had been housed.

  * * *

  What’n’ell is that? A smell or an emanation? The voice was female, the tone disgusted and uneasy.

  “They’ve sent Talents up there?” Flavia asked in surprised indignation.

  “Admiral doesn’t believe in the sting-pzzt,” Thian said, “although I explained it quite carefully and so did Granddad and Grandmother.”

  “So who’s the speaker? Can we reassure her?” Flavia asked.

  Thian had closed his eyes briefly. “I think that’s Lieutenant Commander Semirame Kloo, head of the naval exploration team. According to her file, she’s a T-5 sender, with little or no training. She opted for a place in the Naval Academy.”

  “So we don’t know if she can receive?” Rojer asked.

  Commander Kloo?

  Huh? Who?

  Prime Thian speaking. You are experiencing what we Talents call the “sting-pzzt” of Hive metal.

  That wasn’t in my briefing. She sounded both relieved and annoyed.

  I don’t believe the admiral accepts this reaction as valid. As you are currently surrounded by Hive metal, you’ll be pleased to know that such a reaction confirms the possession of latent Talent.

  Thanks! was the droll response.

  Anyone else in your team seem affected in a similar fashion?

  So far I’m the only one complaining, Prime Lyon, and her tone was resigned.

  Thian, please, Rame.

  How’d you know my nickname? Nemmind. Of course, you would. How do I get rid of this sting-pzzt sensation? Or reduce its effect somehow or other. It’s rather…disconcerting.

  It won’t hurt you but continued exposure might make you rather short-tempered.

  Ha! I’ve already got that reputation so now I’ve a good reason. So long as it doesn’t bite me, I’ll just get on with the job. Shall we?

  My brother, Rojer, is your guide, Rame. He can dampen the reaction to some extent. Let him know if you notice anyone else affected or if it begins to affect your judgment.

  Thanks. Hey! That’s better. And hey, I didn’t know I could receive.

  Rojer took over. Primes can manage two-way communications with much lower than a T-5, Rame. Now, I’ve ignited my guide globe and, if you’ll just have your group follow it, we’ll begin Operation Illuminate on its way to the engine room.

  I’ve got enough ladders to climb us back down to Mars. And hey, this beats staying on the com button. Rojer could almost see her grin. Let’s move it, and by the additional depth to her tone, they knew she was speaking aloud to her detail. Follow the yellow-bright light! Forries, you take left, Maumu, take right and plant those cells…whoops, just lost Maumu down a tube. Oh, hey, that’s great!

  Rojer retrieved the faller, who was as sh
aken by the unexpected and almost instantaneous rescue as he was by an equally unexpected descent.

  Well, slap a light beside the damned tube, sailor, was Rame’s testy comment. And if you were stopped before you hit the bottom, be glad we’ve got the Talents on our tails. Beg pardon, lighting our way!

  As the various teams proceeded, the sphere slowly filled with details. Oval tunnels of varying circumferences riddled the periphery and evidently provided access for Hiver specialist life forms from one area to another. Few were comfortable for those exploring them but gradually, over the next week, a network in each quadrant and hemisphere began to emerge.

  Rojer found the engine room and the incredible clutter of components that, when activated, gave Refugee its propulsion. Fuel was discovered in sealed tanks, each fed by intricate coils into one section of the vast engine mass. More powerful light units were requested by those who had had a harrowing trip down smooth, cramped oval tunnels. The engine room was not all that spacious either and seemed to be accessed by conduits much too small for either Human or ’Dini bodies.

  “A combinant fuel,” was one expert’s immediate theory.

  “Then why is the mixture apparently run over that large crystalline object so carefully bracketed in the housing?”

  Opaque pipes around the chamber suggested some sort of lighting: a theory that was supported by the fact that the various feed lines and coils were color-coded. To prove it correct, the sphere’s power would need to be on.

  “You’d have to be an acrobat to service this bloody affair,” said a propulsion specialist from Earth. He was attempting to get on top of the main unit for a better perspective.

  Several fascinating boards, of a control type, were discovered at floor level. They were segmented into different colors and were touch-controlled. Another few sections covered one of the lower ceilings of the large oval chamber. Judiciously removing some of the floor plates showed that these panels led directly either to the engine mass or the fuel tanks. Getting diagnostic machinery into the cramped engine room required both Rojer’s assistance and the removal of nearly a dozen specialists. “Removing” them back to the main cargo bay where food was being served and remote screens had been sited did much to reduce their disappointment and anger at not being right on the scene.

  Flavia’s group penetrated rather more easily than expected to the twelve queen quarters which formed a circle around the inner axis of the ship. Four of the twelve were larger than the others, suggesting that there was some order of precedence among the queens. Once again, controls were situated in awkward—for Human and Mrdini—positions: depending from ceilings, angled up from the floors and in the narrow ends of the oval-shaped quarters.

  “No one’s found the starting button yet,” Rojer remarked to his companions. He was halfway to canceling a random thought as too ridiculous when his brother started to laugh.

  “They may yet have to do just that, Roj.”

  “Do what?” Flavia demanded, half turning her head in their direction while she kept most of her attention on her work.

  We’ve got a queen, Thian said softly. Presumably she’d know how to start up…

  Flavia’s eyes went round. Let her aboard that ship?

  She can’t take it anywhere but if all the king’s horses and all the king’s men can’t figure out how to turn the power on… Thian said and shrugged without adding the obvious conclusion.

  “Oh!” Flavia mulled that problem over. “Surely someone…”

  “Hope so!” Rojer said but he couldn’t be very encouraging as he watched his group clambering over the machinery, following colored leads, attempting to fathom the unusual composition of the Hive drive. It was apparently much more efficient than it looked.

  There were only so many viable forms of space drive, or so Humans and Mrdini were agreed. Perhaps they should have tried to capture one of the Xh-33 scouts or shuttles when they had the chance. But, according to what Rojer had been told, that had been impossible as well as unlikely. The kidnap of Refugee had been thought to be enough of a coup as well as a solution.

  Wasn’t this more of an academic exercise anyway, Rojer wondered. They didn’t really need to know how the Hive ship worked, or who did what where and when. The Navy did need to discover exactly where to aim what sort of missiles to destroy a Hive ship, or render it helpless.

  Thian had located the life-support area, just above the queens’ level. The gas had destroyed whatever plant types generated oxygen although emergency supplies in tanks were carefully racked in adjacent storage space. Thian’s second find was the round cases of foodstuffs: all color-coded, though whatever glyphs the spheres bore were undecipherable. The semantic experts were delighted with this much to work on. The ship seemed oddly devoid of signs of any type, though illumination proved that certain colors must be recognizable to various queen workers. Why else would they bother coloring anything?

  One of the ’Dini xenobiologists suggested that a sample of each of the food cases be sent to the Heinlein Base. The queen had been quiescent far too long and the theory was that she might be missing some vital nutritional elements. Surely that could be remedied by supplying her with home-grown sustenance.

  On the main schematic board, tubes, halls, oval access conduits, pipes and tunnels were appropriately colored to match the originals. Save for the irising air locks, hangar and cargo bays, there were no doors.

  There didn’t seem to be “crew” quarters either but there were more of the larvae tubes, all spiking out from the various queen quarters, similar to the ones Thian and Lieutenant Auster-Kiely had discovered. Empty, of course.

  After two full watches of exploration—and the kind of vigilance required of the three Primes—Thian sent a message to Admiral del Falco that the Primes were going off duty.

  “Don’t let him argue you out of it, Thian,” Rojer said, the inexorable fatigue of nearly thirty hours’ of intense activity making itself felt in his mind and bones. “I’m bushed.”

  “That is quite obvious,” Flavia said, but she spoke with such kind concern that Rojer couldn’t resent it. She swung her legs to the side of her couch. “They’ve more than enough to keep them going with the main objectives found. They have enough personnel to swap round but we don’t have that option. I’m quite hungry! Those sandwiches they sent up—oh, hours ago now—have left a larger gap.”

  When contacted, the Admiral grunted and frowned. “And what happens if there is an emergency requiring a Prime’s abilities? Had you thought of that?”

  “Indeed we have: Earth Prime has delegated a capable T-2 for such duty,” and right on cue, someone rapped on the door. “Here is Clancy Sparrow now.”

  Another cousin? Rojer asked in amazement just as the door to their ready room slid open.

  “I know. I keep trying to live it down,” Clancy replied with a grin which widened appreciatively when he turned to Flavia. “Boy, you guys lit the great white way!” He swallowed then, eyes rounding in concern. “Let’s just hope I don’t get more than one emergency at a time with such an area to cover.”

  Thian laughed and gestured for Clancy to take his couch. “Call on Beva Margellis if you do get pushed. She’s a T-3 Healer but she can ’port independently or in merge. You met Beva, didn’t you, during the briefing?”

  “Yup, got her touch. See you. And, hey, Roj, congratulations.”

  So much had happened that day that Rojer couldn’t remember why Clancy would be congratulating him.

  “Oh, yeah, thanks. How did Asia do?”

  Clancy grinned. “Li’l coz was only two points below you!”

  “I told her she’d passed. Asia’s not stupid!”

  “Oh, hey, I know it,” Clancy said, recoiling from Rojer’s fervent partisanship. “We all know it back home on Deneb. We just can’t seem to get her to know it.”

  “Go to bed, Roj,” Thian said, and Rojer wasted no more time, using the last of his energy to ’port himself to his quarters. He took time for a shower and a nutrient
drink. When he gratefully stretched out on the excellent and comfortable bed, he had time for one guilty thought: he’d’ve had plenty of room for Gil and Kat in with him.

  * * *

  “Those are emergency repair ways and it’s the scuttling critters that were used for ’em,” Thian was saying the next day when Rojer reported for duty. He was speaking on screen to a scowling, grizzled naval officer with commander tabs on his collar. “If you’ve plumbed ’em with remotes, that’s the best that’s available. Doesn’t that help? Or do you want to borrow one of the scuttlers the queen hatched?”

  Hi, Roj! Boy, do you feel a hundred percent better this afternoon.

  You shouldn’t have let me sleep so long.

  You needed it and we need you alert.

  “Permit one of those…those vermin…into the Refugee?” The commander turned brick red with outrage.

  Flavia waggled fingers at Rojer as she lay on her couch, without turning her head about. Rojer could see that she was directing a remote node down one of the narrower tubes.

  To judge by the colors that criss-crossed the sphere map, the internal investigation of Refugee was proceeding well.

  “The ‘vermin,’ Commander, were designed to maneuver in those spaces as mobile repair units. The wiring seems to be coded by an imbedded design, since there wouldn’t be sufficient light to see color. Since neither Humans or ’Dini come in the appropriate size, it was just a suggestion!”

  “And totally unacceptable! Totally! You may be a Prime but you’re here to do just one job. Now stick to that!”

  “As a Prime, let me remind you, sir, that I would be in complete control of the critter,” Thian replied and Rojer had no trouble ’pathing how much Thian enjoyed the present exchange.

  No one’s found the power switch, Flavia said, her mind alive with laughter though her expression was serenely polite. The Navy’s having knicker attacks. The ’Dinis are sulking and it’s all our fault.

  Sipping from his third cup of really fine coffee, Roj sat on his couch to listen to both levels of Thian’s conversation. Interesting that his brother had had much the same notion that had occurred to him. The only beings who could operate that ship were those for whom it was designed. For all the consultants, advisers, experts and technicians swarming about in the Refugee, not one of them had the shape, height or digital equipment that was required to power up the ship. No complete investigations could be essayed.