Damia's Children (10 page)

“Not of working age,” Damia said. “You're barely sixteen and while you've been trained to very high standards, you've only worked here in Aurigae . . .”

“And Deneb in the summers,” Thian added, afraid she might not remember that.

“Not the most active of Towers,” she replied. Then she gave him a little smile. “But you did well, and you've always done well here. It's just that . . .”

“Mom, you know I've read everything there is on naval histories, even military ones from the early centuries,” Thian said earnestly. “You know I'm the best there is at strategy games . . .”

“Strategy is not involved here,” she said rather sharply.
What is involved are very long lonely distances for my oldest son who has only just reached manhood.

Then she let Thian
feel
what she was feeling and he almost burst into tears, despite his sixteen years. She was terribly afraid—afraid she might never see him again—that he'd die before his time, as her brother Larak had done. Larak often figured in Damia's sadder thoughts: a pain that never really eased in its own special corner of her mind.

She let him have that brief glimpse and shut it, giving herself a little shake of self-reprimand. His father had one hand on her shoulder, as he often did when Mother was upset about something.

“Mother,” and Thian laid his hand on her arm, “we're only a thought away no matter how far apart our bodies are.”

She gave a little cry and embraced him, now letting him
feel
her pride in his response, her constant love and caring of him, and how immensely
pleased she was to be able to supply a child of her body for this service.

“Spoken like a true Lyon,” she said, laughing and crying at the same time, as she tightened her arms one more time before releasing him.

“Why blame it on Lyons, Gwyn-Raven?” Afra said in a low but teasing tone.

“It
is
a tremendously responsible position, Thian,” Damia said, restored to poise and dignity.

“Don't think I don't know it,” Thian said. “And Granddad suggested me?”

Afra nodded. “Oh, we've run through all the training squirts,” and his cocked eyebrow took the sting out of his words. “You can thank Gren for it. He made the final assessments.
He
considered you the best candidate—if we'd let you go.”

“You mean you mightn't've?” Thian was aghast at what he might have been deprived.

Damia gave his father a sour look and pursed her lips a moment. “No, you should know us better than that, Thian Lyon! But we do believe that you've a good head on your shoulders, a fine sense of responsibility, and sufficient training to be an effective member of FT&T.”

A sudden thought caught Thian. “But what about Mur and Dip?” He was appalled that he had forgotten his 'Dini companions even during that moment of personal success.

“I told you,” Afra said, teasing his wife.

Damia sighed and then smiled to relieve Thian's growing concern. “They will accompany you. You've actually a double purpose: providing the search with a Prime and a working 'Dini team plus some language instruction. That should help ease relations between Human and 'Dini.”

“Why? Are they bad?”

Afra cleared his throat. “Not bad, exactly, but with inadequate communication, unnecessary problems have arisen that accurate interpretation could have avoided.”

“Oh!”

“You are young for such responsibility but your mother and I feel you have a mature enough attitude and certainly you communicate well with 'Dinis. You are well grown and you don't
look
wet behind the ears—which is aided and abetted by the infamous Gwyn streak,” and Afra gave Thian's silver lock a gentle tap. Afra cleared his throat, then added, “I believe that, and your interest in naval history and protocol, tipped the balance in your favor.”

Thian lifted his chest, grinning as he remembered all the teasing he'd had for blurring his eyes over ancient texts and stupid manuals. You never did know when something you studied for the fun of it might become very useful indeed.

“Now, I suggest that you give yourself,” his father said, “—say, half an hour, to appreciate this unexpected honor before you get your head back down to size. Because you're not allowed to mention this to anyone. Not even your 'Dinis, until the formalities are observed and your official orders are cut.”

“Not even Laria?”

“Especially not your sister, Thian, since she's slated to depart to Callisto soon,” his mother said. She gave his hair a brief stroke at his disappointment. “She'll hear through the appropriate sources, dear.”

“Consider this your first exercise in naval intelligence.
You'll soon hear many messages you may never even hint you've received.”

“And I used to wonder why I had to help you with those big daddies all the time.” Thian's active mind had also been cataloging the sort of materiel he'd be having to 'port to his squadron.

“To every thing its use and season,” Afra said, obviously quoting.

Just then a tray with glasses and a basket of tidbits came floating into the Tower room.

“A celebration is obviously called for: quiet, necessarily limited to immediate family members but nonetheless a celebration, son,” Damia said, and herself placed one glass in Thian's hand.

Three glasses chimed melodiously as they met: their contents then ceremonially drunk.

*   *   *

Thian found it was harder to keep his mouth shut over this than he'd anticipated. It was even harder to suppress the inner excitement that threatened to bubble up whenever he considered his altered status. Fortunately, Laria was involved with renewing contacts with her siblings and their 'Dinis. She also 'ported frequently to the 'Dini village to spend time with relatives of those she knew on Clarf.

The first time Thian had accompanied her, he had been awed at the sophistication of her 'Dini vocabulary. True, they had been paired with young 'Dinis, who were also learning their language from their adults, but vocabulary and complexity had reached a mature level even before Laria had gone to Clarf. But now . . . Thian went with her whenever he could, listening to the new
combinations of sound and sign. He wouldn't be talking baby-talk to the naval 'Dinis.

Look, Thian,
Laria said, turning on him before she went off for the fourth morning to the village,
I'm real pleased you like my company but haven't you something better to do with your time?

Gee, Lar, I have missed you,
he began, caught without a glib excuse ready.
And it's a real treat to hear you speak 'Dini. You've learned a great deal. I thought I was fluent
 . . . and he paused, hoping the flattery would cover his genuine need,
but you've been using complex constructions I've never heard before.

Laria gave him a long measuring look.
Thian? You're my brother and I know you well enough to know you're covering. What?

Could we just leave it that I
NEED
to improve technical 'Dini-speak?

You'll pick it up very quickly once you're on Clarf, Thian,
she began,
you're pretty fluent as it is.

In day-to-day stuff, but not the technical jargon and I will need that, won't I?

She frowned slightly, cocking her head at him, and he could feel her mind push against his. He waggled a finger at her.

“That's not good manners,” he said.

“You've never minded before. And you
are
hiding something.”

“Not hiding,” he said with a grin, “but you know that we never talk Tower-business.”

“Oh, all right, Thian, you can come today—for the last time.”

It would be, Thian knew, but he couldn't indicate that either. It was getting harder and harder to suppress his inner excitement. Still, if he couldn't
handle this minor incident, he oughtn't to accept the assignment at all.

You are the best candidate for this job, son,
his father said softly.
Never doubt that!

Laria knows a lot more technical lingo than I do. Wouldn't she be better?

Having doubts is normal. Overcoming them is part of maturing. I would be more worried about your success if you didn't question yourself. Your training and experience are more than adequate for this assignment. Laria would not do as well as you will!

Thian let himself be reassured, especially as he wanted this duty more than anything. Very softly even in his own head, Thian added: Roddie would be livid with envy.

*   *   *

Dinner that last evening was not ostentatiously lavish but the meal happened to feature the favorite dishes of Thian, Mur, and Dip. No one made mention of this bias because their special foods were popular anyway. Thian got a bit misty-eyed, though, when his mother served him double-chocolate cake.

I also baked a second one for you to take with you tomorrow,
she added very privately and he nearly burst into tears.

They dissipated with a suddenness that suggested “help,” leaving him happy and relaxed but no longer emotionally overloaded.

You have always been an appreciative soul,
his father said.

Everyone appreciates double-chocolate cake,
he, replied, in control of himself again.

The transfer would take place late that evening,
when the household was asleep. First they'd land at Callisto.

“Just to keep you humble, Thian,” his mother said as they made their way through the dark still night to the Tower, “you and your 'Dinis are also-rans with urgently needed medical and food supplies.”

“Thanks, Mom, I needed that,” Thian said facetiously.

I know,
and she grinned at him. “Your grandparents will join with David of Betelgeuse to push the shipment to rendezvous with the Starship
Vadim.
”

“At least we'll be pushed by the best,” he said. They had reached the capsule now and he placed his carisak inside, careful of the double-chocolate cake. His father went on up to the Tower to take his position. His mother hovered as he helped stow the pouches Mur and Dip handed him. They hopped in, clicking softly as they settled into their special hammocks. Then it was Thian's turn to enter.

Thian caught just the glint of moisture in his mother's eyes before, unexpectedly, she threw her arms about him. When, he wondered as his arms closed about her, had she gotten so slender and so much smaller than he?

When you got so much fatter and bigger,
she said and shoved him toward the carrier.
You big lunk!
And on a different level which Thian was astonished to hear, she added,
This is much harder than I thought it would be!

Almost embarrassed by her remorse, Thian stumbled as he stepped in and then fell awkwardly across the couch, Mur and Dip clacking
concern. He clucked a reassurance and clipped on his harness. The canopy closed.

It's not as if he's gone forever,
his mother's thoughts continued.

Easy, my love,
and that was his father answering on the private level.

Firmly Thian diverted his thoughts from this inadvertent contact and squinched his shoulders into the couch.

NOT TO WORRY
, Mur said.

TOGETHER US
, Dip added.

GOODNESS SPREADS
, Thian replied, accepting their encouragement and returning it in the 'Dini idiom.

He caught the “push” of two strong minds at the onset of 'portation. He held his breath and felt the “halt” and the almost indefinable alteration as his grandmother “caught” the capsule from the Aurigaen thrust and brought it safely in. He didn't feel even the slightest vibration as the carrier was placed on the Callistan cradle.

I'm always careful with animate cargo,
came the unmistakable touch of his grandmother's 'pathing.

You are indeed, ma'am,
Thian answered politely.

This 'port will be longer, remember, but I'll stay with you, if you wish?
the Rowan offered.

Thian let a laugh ripple through his reply.
Mother'd snatch me bald-headed, Callisto Prime, if I did that.

He did give a start when he felt a thud-thunk vibrate through the capsule.

That's the drone capsule locking on,
his grandmother said,
not me missing my thrust. Don't break any eggs now,
she added.

On her “now,” he knew that she had pushed because he could just hear the whine of generators.
He was also aware of David, the Betelgeuse Prime when his touch came on line.

Ah! Punctual as ever, David,
the Rowan said.
Shall we?

Why not?
was David's diffident reply.

The final thrust of his journey was palpable in Thian's mind: he expected that both the Rowan and David had done that on purpose. Some Talents, especially Primes, still experienced twinges of apprehension when being 'ported by others. Most of them handled their own 'portations and possibly Thian could have, had he had practice with the coordinates to which he was going: constantly altering coordinates at that. He really was relieved that he hadn't been expected to transport himself.

Then he was there! Inside the battle cruiser.

“Sir,” a loud voice shouted, slightly muffled by the capsule, “transport and drone are now aboard.”

“Well, well, open up the carrier, man!”

The hatch was cracked and the first thing Thian noted was that the air was tainted. The first thing he did was sneeze which mortified him.

“Canned air has that effect, sir,” said the uniformed rating who looked in on him. “You'll get used to it, Mr. Lyon.” The grin that followed that warning belied the sentiment.

Mur was convulsed with the equivalent of a 'Dini sneeze while Dip seemed to be gagging.