Damia (5 page)

Afra caught mental buzz that identified him as the Capellan T-4.
No longer a pint-sized greenie
, Afra thought very quietly and grinned. If he suited the Rowan, he might even be able to see old Damitcha, who had retired downside to Kyoto.

Vague reassurances were aimed in his direction, some of them wistful, some of them pessimistic about his chances, but there were smiles enough to make him feel welcome.

“You were the last shipment in today,” Brian said. “Coffee?”

“Coffee?” Afra was surprised. That was a caffeinated substance which was, of course, unavailable on Capella. Something to do with the expense of it. “I wouldn’t mind a cup.” He fished that phrase out of Brian’s mind.

“D’you like it black, white, sweetened?”

“How do you like it?”

“Never had any?”

“No,” and Afra smiled ruefully.

“Well, try it black and see if you like it. Then we can add milk and sweetener to your taste.”

Afra was trying not to probe around for the Prime. There were so many people milling about, some of them flustered with the day’s tasks, some hoping to leave for home pretty soon, that he wondered if she were down here. No one matched the vivid mental picture Goswina had given him so long ago. Then he realized that the Rowan would be ten years older and more mature than that mischievous girl.

Just as Brian handed him a mug with an opaque black liquid, he knew the Rowan was in the room. He turned slightly to his left, toward the beverage dispenser that Brian had just left. Three people, a man and two women, were serving themselves. Afra’s attention fell on the slenderer female figure, a mane of unexpectedly silver hair falling to her shoulders although her face was young, and
oddly attractive, though not in a classic style of beauty. He felt the first spurt—and ruthlessly suppressed that sense—of strong affinity.

Although the girl wasn’t very tall and had a pale rather than slightly greenish skin tone, she had the lean look of a Capellan. But there was no doubt in his mind that she was the Rowan.

Full marks to you, Goswina’s brother Afra
, she said and, audibly excusing herself from her companions, she jerked her head toward the steps to the Tower level.
If you’ll join me?

Her very casual manner was quite a change from Capella’s formality.

I had my craw full of protocol and elaborate convention on Altair, Afra. I run a Tower, not a tea party. I also don’t usually ’path conversations. For Goswina’s brother I’ll make an exception today.

He followed her up the winding metal steps, a bit surprised that she didn’t have a ramp as Capella did.

“You’ll find I’m not at all like Capella, or Siglen, or any of the other Primes you might have met.”

“Capella’s the only one I’ve ever met.”

They were in the Tower room now, with her conformable couch, the various monitors and consoles that were standard furniture for a Prime’s domain. Great Jupiter was visible, and the stark moonscape beyond the FT&T domes. The Rowan gestured for him to take the seat by the auxiliary console. Then she leaned back against the outer wall and cocked her head. He felt no contact from her mind, but, unless he was completely mistaken, there was a bond growing between them. He hoped so, for he had never met anyone like her before—so radiant, so vital, so vivid. Strength was an almost visible aura about her. And his father had always maintained that Primes contained themselves?

“I’d take you for Goswina’s brother. You’ve the look of her. Sort of.” She smiled, an expression that only increased his attraction for her. “What did they say when you got my message?”

“They were surprised. Then my father said that a Prime would remember a promise.”

“Ah!” Her grin was mischievous. “So your family didn’t know you had applied to me directly?”

Afra shook his head, unable, however, to break eye contact. So he gave a rueful shrug and attempted a self-deprecating smile.

“Aren’t you supposed to take up a position at Capella Tower?”

“When Ementish retires.”

Her gray eyes danced. “And that fills you with so much elation that you had to give me first refusal?”

“Capella is a good planet . . .”

“Goody good, I’d’ve said . . .”

Afra cocked an eyebrow at her qualification. “When we took the Tower course, I met Talents from other systems.” He shrugged again, not willing to belittle his home world.

“And you wanted to see more of the galaxy?”

“One doesn’t see much of the galaxy as a T-4 in a Tower, but I thought that it might be . . . challenging to spend some time elsewhere.”

She gave him a curious look. “What are those odd shapes in your carisak?”

It was the last question he expected of her, but he also realized that the Rowan would be unpredictable.

“Origami. The ancient art of paper folding.” Not at all certain he should act brashly, he ’ported his favorite swan—in a silvery white paper—into his hand and offered it to her.

With a wondering smile on her face, she took it from him, turning the bird this way and that, delicately opening its wings.

“How charming! And you just
fold
paper into that shape.”

“What’s your favorite color?” he asked.

“Red. Crimson red!”

He extracted a red sheet from his supply and, when he had it in his hands, he rapidly folded a flower, which he offered her with a little bow.

“Well, that’s not a mental exercise at all, is it?” she said, examining the flower. “Flip, flop and you’ve got a small masterpiece. Is that what people do on Capella for entertainment?”

Afra shook his head. “A freighter chief named Damitcha taught me—while Goswina was on Altair. I missed her, you see. Origami helped.”

The Rowan’s expression altered to one of compassionate apology—and he felt the lightest mental touch, reinforcing it.

“She missed you, too, Afra. I heard all about you.”

“And you remembered your promise.”

“Not quite, Afra,” she said, propelling herself toward her chair and whirling around to seat herself. “Because there’s no course on Altair anymore and you’re already trained. So let’s see if Goswina was right, that our minds will complement each other in the running of this Tower!”

She let him hear what she then said.
Reidinger, I’ve found me another T-4. Afra of Capella. He folds paper! Which is at least original. And he keeps holos of barque cats.

So she’d seen those, too, in her mental sorting of his belongings.

ROWAN!

Afra winced as the bellow singed his mind edges. The Rowan grinned mischievously at him and signaled that he wasn’t to mind the noisiness.

Well, he can’t be any worse than the one who was certain that Jupiter would fall on her. Or that absolute dork from Betelgeuse who couldn’t take the least bit of teasing. Much less that martinet you thought was just the sort to steady me while I was learning my job! No, this time, Reidinger
, I
get to pick one. And that’s that!

Then she winked at Afra. “I had an illegal barque cat once. I named him Rascal and he was, but the ungrateful feline deserted me on the liner that brought me here.” She gave a little shrug and a wry grin. “Not that I blamed him, the way I carried on.”

“They hear us, you know,” Afra said, thinking that a safe enough remark.

She looked surprised. “I suspected Rascal did. We enjoyed a friendly empathy, but has one spoken to you?”

“Hmmmmm-rowwww!”

The Rowan threw back her head and laughed with delight.

“You’re one up on me then, Afra.”

“Not for long, I think,” he replied, pure relief at surviving these initial moments jolting the uncharacteristic retort from mind to mouth.

She laughed again, idly swinging the chair from side to side. “Shall we keep score?”

“How much can I lose before you fire me out of here?” He didn’t believe it was himself answering a Prime like this.

“Well, I just don’t know, Afra. The problem hasn’t come up before,” she said, winking. “The others have been such blockheads, they couldn’t have capped a phrase if I’d handed them the hat! And,” she waggled a finger at him, “if you hold your own against Reidinger when he vets you, you’ll do yourself a favor there, too. Enough of this! I’ll show you your quarters.” She slid gracefully to her feet and beckoned him to follow. “We’re off for the next six hours, you know, so there’s time for you to settle in before the Station’s operational again. Then we’ll just see how good Goswina’s little brother Afra is!”

C
ALLISTO personnel had better quarters than Afra expected for a moon installation. He was frequently told that Callisto had been state-of-the-art when it was constructed eight years ago. Every new safeguard device since then was immediately incorporated into Callisto’s dome. FT&T was not risking its Callisto Prime, and her station crew benefited.

Married personnel had quarters with their own garden and recreations area under their secondary dome. Single staff had two-room apartments plus a large dining and recreational lounge. A well-fitted gymnasium center used by everyone occupied another secondary dome, reached by a short tunnel, though the locks on both ends were standing open. The Tower facility, small capsule cradles plus the generators, fuel tanks, and main water storage, was mainly underground with access in a third small dome: the passenger and naval vessel size cradles under a fourth with airlocks and auxiliary tunnels to the main facilities. The Rowan’s private residence with its small copse and garden, off to one side of the main complex, was under a fifth,
while the main dome offered primary shielding to all. Emergency upright shelters were strategically situated in case of a major strike penetrating the first and second domes, and each living unit automatically sealed and had emergency oxygen supplies for twenty-four hours: the maximum time estimated for help to arrive from other stations in the system.

Afra found his apartment more than adequate, even to an imitation fire on a hearth in the lounge room, flanked by two conformable chairs and a rather battered low table. To one side of the mantel was a complicated orological device that displayed Earth time and Callisto’s time in terms of revolutions about its primary, and a second orery depicting Callisto’s orbit around immense Jupiter as well as the erratic orbits of the other moons. If he read it correctly, he had another five hours and fifteen minutes before he should report back to the Tower.

Although there were cupboards, shelving for tape, vids, gamescreens, and far more closets than he needed for his one pitiful carisak, there was plenty of space for other furniture, suggesting he could make his own choices of additional pieces.

The ubiquitous communications desk was exceedingly well appointed with a patently brand-new console and auxiliaries. When he turned it on, an introductory message filled the screen, inviting him to initiate personal codes and install any programs. He was informed that he had a monthly limit of free calls to his home system, that he could order necessities from Earth on the weekly supply drones at no cost or immediately at a special rate for FT&T employees. Facetiously keying a query on his credit balance, he gasped in surprise at the amount of draw he was permitted for an out-of-system transfer, the allowance provided for redecorating and furnishing his quarters, and how to obtain downside authorization and credit facilities for FT&T personnel.

“Another matter no one ever explained to me,” he murmured. “Or maybe the parents expected to manage my credit for me, too.”

He placed the barque cat holos on one shelf above the console and his flock of origamis on the next, fussing over their placement. He leaned the calligraphy book against the side of the third shelf and snorted. Well, he suspected that he’d find plenty to fill out those shelves.

He investigated the bathroom, noticing the warning of daily personal water allotment, peeked into the tiny refreshment cabinet, which included many exotic choices for a Capellan methody lad, and went on into the sleeping room. The bed was as firm as he liked it and big enough for several bodies the size of his. That opened up another vista for him, heretofore scrupulously unmentioned, even if his parents had been considering the stabilizing influence of a nice girl for him. He grinned. Earth was not that far away and Brian Ackerman had mentioned that downside trips were possible. Tempting!

Then he noticed the second orological display.

“They don’t risk your forgetting the time around here, do they?” Even in this privacy, he felt a trifle silly talking to himself. “I need some music.”

If you will name your preferences, these can be supplied on a select or random basis
, said a velvet alto, which could be either male or female.

Delighted to have a voice address in-room system, Afra rattled off a list of his favorites and the soft string instrumental opus began the moment he paused to decide what else he’d like to have on tap.

“Thank you.”

Courtesy is not required.

“It was where I was reared,” Afra replied bluntly.

Is a response required?

“It would be appreciated. I promised my parents to remember my manners.” Then he covered his mouth against a laugh. All those drills on courtesy and he had a v.a. system to use them on? Even Goswina wouldn’t be amused by the irony.