Damia

by Anne McCaffrey

  Young though Jeran was, his mind responded to Afra’s and he was quite content to sit in the Capellan’s lap watching origami birds and fish and animals appear. When Jeran advanced from clapping and laughing with delight to reaching out with unskillful grasp to gain possession of the fragile creations, Afra patiently taught him how to use just his forefinger and thumb to hold the origami. And when Jeran fell asleep in his arms, Afra found that trustfulness particularly appealing. He regretted having to transfer the soft warm body to its crib.

  The stress which the rest of the Tower personnel had so skillfully controlled with the Rowan present rose significantly as they allowed their concern over the severity of the onslaught to leak into the open.

  A tray containing cups of steaming liquid appeared in the Control Room. Afra sniffed inquiringly and smelled only the best of coffees and teas, superior in quality and freshness to any available on the Station.

  Complements of Luciano! Gollee Gren said, a chuckle of delight at his surprise in his ’pathing. As long as I can and you need, there’ll be non-stop refreshments at Callisto Station!

  The broad band statement was answered by everyone on the Station with a welling of profound gratitude.

  The refreshments were devoured and Gren had to make replenishments twelve times during the course of the Vigil as this time Callisto, Earth, Betelgeuse, Altair, Procyon, and Capella all stood ready to support beleaguered Deneb.

  Reidinger’s orders came up electronically at light speed rather than instantaneously via telepathy. Afra discerned why as soon as he read them. He approved of Reidinger’s plan but it was dangerous to split the Talented forces in the path of the enemy. It was also a gamble.

  Afra worked diligently to ensure that the staff of Callisto Station was properly briefed and rested. Even so, the tension built acutely as the events around Deneb were relayed throughout the Nine Star League.

  “Hey, that thing has slowed.” Jeff’s voice, relayed telepathically, was linked over the Station’s comm system. “It’s going to go into orbit around Deneb!”

  “Why?” That was the voice of Isthia Raven, being echoed again by the comm telepath. “I will not believe its intentions are pacific!”

  Afra heartily agreed. The Leviathan had passed through ten Welcome&Identify beacons, breached the mine field laid out beyond Deneb’s heliopause, and sent out destroyers to engage the Fleet.

  “No, certainly not in that orbit,” was Jeff Raven’s droll response. “Just far enough away for its missiles to be effective and too far for any retaliation from the ground—if we had any missiles of any kind. Ruddy bitches are going to pound the hell out of us again!”

  No, they’re not! Everyone in the Control Room started when Reidinger’s emphatic tones burst forth. Angharad Gwyn-Raven, the A focus is yours. Gather it! Jeff Raven, collect the B focus. Prepare!

  Afra! The mental “voice” of Jeff Raven clamped him in a firm grip as he contacted the male minds that were his strike force. The Rowan would be gathering every female Talent in her focus.

  Here, Afra responded calmly, “letting go” of his mind at Jeff’s touch.

  Good! Raven returned with a sense of relief. I cannot get Gren to respond at this distance. Jeff’s voice held a note of tension in it.

  Don’t worry, Afra hastily assured him and simultaneously sent out mental alerts to Gren and Ackerman who were standing by. We’ve built a pyramid, with you at the apex.

  Slowly at first, then with increasing speed, Afra felt the lesser Talents of the solar system aligning themselves behind himself, Gollee, and Ackerman. He was aware of a mental engorgement, passing through him to Jeff, as if he himself had swelled to the size of a small moon. Callisto and Earth are with you, Afra sent, passing forward a mental baton which was the combined will of all the male Talents that Earth, Callisto, and all the planets of the solar system could muster.

  Betelgeuse joins the Prime.

  Procyon is on line.

  Capellan men send greetings and are ready for the merge.

  Altair here.

  And far out at Deneb, Jeff Raven found himself the center of a maelstrom of power. The timing was perfect, for as the Rowan-focus had finished pulverizing the minds of the “Many,” it was time for the Raven-focus to shove Leviathan to its doom.

  NOW! Jeff Raven called and every kinetic male Talent was united in full gestalt with all available generators in the Nine Star League to divert Leviathan to a new trajectory—straight to the huge star that was hot Deneb.

  That’s what we should have done with the first attackers, the Raven-merge said.

  We did warn them! the Rowan-merge replied.

  And then, job completed, energies spent, the two foci of massed minds fell apart to their constituent pieces. Collectively the personnel at Callisto Station gave an exhausted groan, many falling over at their posts, sapped of all energy. The generators, suddenly freed of their load, whirled up to overspeed and circuit breakers tripped them out.

  Jeff? Afra managed to find enough energy to call. He was not sure he heard a reply, like a man shouting across a windy field. Reidinger, the generators have all dropped out. We’re all shagged here, but nothing that a day’s rest won’t cure.

  I’ll tell him, Gollee Gren sent back with overtones of a yawn.

  “Keerist! I don’t want to do that again!” Brian Ackerman swore.

  Afra toggled the all-call on the Station comm system. “Get to bed, people, rest. We’re shutting down for the next twenty-four hours. Maintenance crew, work it out so that the generators are ready to go on-line by then.”

  Brian looked over at him and grinned. “Afra Lyon! I think that’s the first time you’ve ever made a command decision!”

  Afra was too tired to respond.

  The Defense of the Denebian Penetration, as that act of alien aggression came to be called in the popular press, was the last act of FT&T under the auspices of Peter Reidinger. The stress had been almost too much for him and Jeff Raven’s stellar performance had opened any door that had previously remained closed to the Denebian’s good nature and steady charm.

  “Not,” Reidinger growled, “that I won’t keep an eye on you!”

  That problem, however, was not the least one to be considered with the successful defense. The one that concerned Afra the most was one that caused him considerable anxiety because he didn’t know if he was misinterpreting some very odd remarks Jeran was making. And it was some weeks before he finally figured out where the toddler’s observation came from and arranged to meet with Raven to discuss it.

  “You’re tense and your shields are wobbly,” Jeff said as soon as he met Afra in his office—once Reidinger’s lair—on Earth. “What is wrong?”

  “It’s your daughter.” Jeff’s eyes widened. Afra went on quickly, “With all the energies flowing through the Rowan during the Defense, I think your daughter has been affected.”

  “How bad?” Jeff asked, face gone pale.

  “Oh, not bad!” Afra replied, sounding very positive. “It’s just—just that I’ve heard Jeran talking to her.”

  “Already?” Jeff was astonished. He sent a quick tight band to his mother.

  Yes, was Isthia’s considered opinion, I’d say Afra is right. I wasn’t too sure of it when Angharad was still on Deneb, but if Afra’s noticed the phenomenon, I accept his opinion. How is it manifested?

  On rather an infantile level, Afra said wryly, but there is a mental contact between the two children. Jeran doesn’t quite understand what’s fretting her, but he knows she’s not happy “in there.” He doesn’t know how to answer. How could he? Afra added.

  Jeff was thoughtful. The baby’s reacting to the stress the Rowan felt? So we have to tell him what to tell her, carefully framed for a fetal mind? Afra nodded.

  I can see why you didn’t want to upset Angharad. She exhausted most of her reserves in the Merge. I wouldn’t want her stressed right now.

  Jeff’s grin was rueful. “Yes, it could be disconcerting to have your toddler
suddenly tell you that your daughter’s unhappy where she is.”

  “I have a suggestion,” Afra went on, “which I’ve already discussed with Elizara as the Rowan’s obstetrical adviser. Jeran’s merely repeating the baby’s anxiety. Let’s have him make a physical contact. At a moment when the Rowan is distracted and won’t either inadvertently curb the link or physically prevent it.”

  It should work, Isthia remarked when he had finished. Though I’ve never heard of a sibling talking to a fetus. Could we please have Elizara in on this conference?

  When the practitioner joined them, she suggested that while fetuses were not normally aware at this stage of gestation, she’d rule nothing out in the case of Angharad Gwyn-Raven.

  There was a tremendous amount of raw power coursing through the Rowan’s mind, strong as that is, Elizara said thoughtfully. After all, I was part of it. I didn’t think of such a side-effect, but there certainly could be a leakage into the physical. An unborn child would assuredly be vulnerable in this trimester and could become charged.

  Isthia’s tone reflected her concern. I feel that Afra’s suggestion should be implemented as soon as possible, and preferably without Angharad’s knowledge.

  Indeed, especially without her awareness, Elizara agreed.

  “It might not be a bad time for an official acknowledgment of your union,” Afra suggested subtly.

  “Official?” Jeff made a face.

  Yes, Jeff Raven! Marry the girl! Isthia shot back across the stars.

  It hardly seems necessary to go through an official acknowledgment at this late date, mother!

  To you, but not to her. The force of Isthia’s reply rocked Jeff back in his seat. He turned to Afra, a slow grin forming. “Still willing to be best man?”

  * * *

  Jeff wanted Deneb, Reidinger wanted Earth, and the Rowan got Callisto as the site of the wedding. Jeff had to give in to the political overtones of this, the first union of two Primes. “Much though I hate it, it’s a great chance to cement certain alliances firmly with the Gwyn-Raven dynasty.”

  Reidinger had fought bitterly to have the brief ceremony held on Earth. And, indeed, the Rowan was sorely tempted. But that would have allowed FT&T too free a hand with invitations, whereas limiting guests to space available in the Tower Compound restricted the numbers to a manageable quantity. She also didn’t want just anyone ’porting in on them on what ought to be a private and personal occasion. Fortunately, Rowan had more cooperation than she expected. It took the best efforts of Jeff, Isthia, Afra, and Elizara to soothe Reidinger’s vociferous protests. Elizara might have had a private word with her greatgrandfather because suddenly he subsided in his efforts to get the Rowan to Earth. Afra told the Rowan that it was only because he had promised Reidinger that every angle of the ceremony would be taped.

  “I know it doesn’t matter on Earth,” Isthia had said as a final argument, “but some purists might fault a bride who is not only pregnant but has a child old enough to be ring bearer.”

  Afra instantly assumed the task of instructing the “ring bearer.” With a gentle but firm mental pressure, he also told Jeran that he could reassure his sister on how to send such a mental message.

  “You tell her that she’s quite safe now, and that you’ll protect her, too.”

  With brows knitted in concentration, Jeran repeated that message, taking some comfort in it himself.

  Like I take care of the origami? he asked. Afra had hunkered down to his level so child and man were nearly on the same level.

  “As gently as you take care of the origami,” Afra said, and reinforced that message mentally. Jeran’s brow cleared and he beamed at Afra, his mind as tranquil as it was determined to perform his two tasks perfectly.

  The ceremony was simple but poignant. Because the “old man”—Reidinger—could not be present to give her away, Gollee Gren, as his representative, lent his physical presence while Reidinger did the talking.

  “As usual,” Gollee had said with a malicious smile. Reidinger might not have been there in person but his inescapable mental presence was felt by all who were.

  Mauli, Elizara, Rakella, Besseva, Torshan, and Captain Lodjyn of the scout that had carried Jeff on his close reconnoiter of the Leviathan, all were happy to be the Rowan’s attendant-witnesses. Afra felt quite nervous in his place of honor as groom’s man and he had a right to be. He had assiduously studied and performed all the traditional duties of best man, relieving the bride and groom of most worries in preparing for the event. Ackerman headed the groom’s men, who included Bill Powers, Chief Medic Asaph, and Admiral Tomiakin.

  Jeff paused dramatically when it came time to say “I do,” a twinkle in his eyes until he had the Rowan glaring fiercely at him in alarm.

  Reidinger broke the tableau, swearing sotto voce, “It’s a bit late now for cold feet! If you don’t marry her, I will!”

  Jeff paused long enough to give the old Earth Prime a hefty mental buffet, then turned back to the Rowan. The adjudicator coughed delicately, repeating, “Do you wish to form a permanent union with this woman?”

  “I most certainly do!” Jeff said in a clear, firm voice that carried throughout the dome.

  “And you, Angharad Gwyn, do you wish to form a permanent union with this man?”

  The Rowan cocked a head at Jeff but could not bring herself to drag the scene out. “With all my heart, I do.”

  Just at that moment, as Jeff and Angharad bent to seal the ceremony with a kiss, Jeran slipped from Isthia’s loose hand and rushed to cling to his mother, hand upraised.

  Good boy! Isthia sent to the youngster in a tight shield. Talk to her, say hello to your sister!

  Elizara gave an approving wink, then cocked her head as if listening. Eyes widening in astonishment, she nodded. She caught Afra’s rapt expression, traced it to the eldest Rowan child, and raised her eyebrow provocatively at him. Afra acknowledged it with the merest flick of an eyebrow.

  Jeff and Angharad, locked in a kiss made more special by the moment, knew nothing of the tight psychic interchange.

  The Navy had a special surprise as they made their way to the reception, a double line of uniformed men forming a bridge of steel with their archaic, polished swords.

  Elizara caught up with Afra at the reception. “It worked, you know.”

  “Yes, I thought I felt her accept Jeran.”

  “Nevertheless an in utero link is most remarkable. It’s been just a concept.”

  “’Til now.” Afra grinned. “My sister tried some sort of pre-natal reassurance, but she would never admit to me just how successful she was. Do you think it will comfort the child now?”

  “I felt her relax,” Elizara said, smiling tenderly, then added more briskly, “Let’s hope the Rowan never realizes how dangerous that Merge might have been for her daughter. She’d never forgive herself. At least,” and Elizara’s smile turned mischievous, “at least today she had her mind on other matters and may never realize what was achieved.” She gave a girlish giggle which surprised Afra, who had always found the practitioner the model of decorum. Then a thought distracted her. “Now all we have to worry about is the effect on the two children!”

  “They’ll surely be closer than usual,” Afra replied.

  “Which will please the Rowan, I know, but what about future siblings? We can’t be sure we can mind-bond every child the Rowan has.”

  “Why would we need to? The circumstances are unlikely to be repeated,” Afra said blithely, and gave a diffident shrug.

  * * *

  One final surprise crowned the event, at least from the Rowan’s viewpoint. The liner which had brought so many notables to Callisto for the ceremony had been the same one which had transported her from Altair to Jupiter’s moon. It wasn’t until Jeff had carried his officially acknowledged mate back to their quarters that the significance became apparent.

  “WHAT is that?” Jeff demanded, pointing to a large, spotted, furry lump in the middle of their bed.

  T
he lump stirred, extended limbs, yawned widely, showing long white fangs, and then deigned to regard the intruders with vivid eyes.

  “Rascal? Rascal!” the Rowan cried, her voice incredulous, her expression joyful.

  “It’s some rascal all right,” Jeff replied tartly, “and it’ll get out of my bed immediately. I have other plans . . .”

  “You don’t understand, Jeff, it’s Rascal, my barque cat!” And the Rowan plunked herself down, reaching out to tickle the chin of the beautiful beast. “Oh, Rascal, you’ve come back to me.”

  “Mmmmrrrow!” said Rascal conversationally. He then graciously accepted her homage.

  “Come, Jeff, pet him. Make him feel welcome.”

  “Frankly, I don’t wish to make . . .”

  “Jeff Raven!” And the Rowan gave him a thoroughly indignant glance. “Barque cats are special. We’re honored by his presence.”

  “We are?”

  To keep peace on such an important night, Jeff did as the Rowan asked. Then she did as he asked and Rascal learned to find somewhere else, safer, to spend his nights.

  CHAPTER

  FOUR

  HER face displaying a look of surprise and disappointment, Damia’s baby legs gave out from underneath her and she plopped onto her dry-padded bottom. For a moment she considered crying, but the disdainful look from Rascal assured her that he would provide no sympathy. Now why had she been standing, anyway, she mused. Year-old Damia’s thoughts were not coherent for any great length of time and she often found herself wondering what she had been thinking of moments before. Missing. Something was missing. A faint shadow of the frown she had seen her mother use so effectively—her mother! That was it! No mother nearby!