Part 3 (1/2)

He held up well today. I'll give him a three-month trial.

Not before I've seen him, you won't!

Sure thing, and the Rowan's tone was not only saucy but very confident.

Most of the Tower personnel disappeared when the Rowan made her transportation offer. Only Brian Ackerman remained, discussing a few matters quietly with Joe Toglia. afra continued to sit where he was.

He felt drained and even the few steps to the beverage dispenser seemed too far but he could certainly use a caffeine boost.

Then he saw one cup move under the spout, the dark liquid splash in and move aside for a second cup to be filled with sugar and milk added. As the cups made their way to his station, the Rowan came down the stairs again.

'Thanks,' he said with a wry grin of appreciation as she approached. She caught the back of a chair and, hauling it behind her, sat down beside him. He lifted his cup and she touched hers to it in the traditional fas.h.i.+on. 'Thanks a lot, Rowan She gave him a sideways glance. 'Couple of things we got to straighten between us right away, afra. Just let me know when you need a boost and tell me when you've foozied. I prefer to correct as soon as possible. Understand that and -we could make a good team.

afra nodded his agreement, mentally too tired to project -after all the exercise he'd had the past six hours. She continued to sit and sip at her coffee, the silence between -them comfortable. In fact, afra did not remember being so comfortable with anyone else before except with Goswina when he was a boy. And before, he added deep in his mind, Goswina went to Aitair. By the time they had finished their drinks, he felt somewhat restored. The Rowan recognized it, too, her grey eyes sympathetic.

'Take a long nap, now, afra. Let your brain idle,' she said, rising and replacing the chair. Then she left the Tower.

afra took her advice. Nor was that the only time he did so.

He was in the Tower for five weeks before Reidinger contacted him directly, though not in the bull roar he invariably used in his exchanges with the Rowan. At that, the strength of Reidinger's powerful touch direct to his mind was sufficient to dismay afra. He had never encountered such a dense mind before. Capella had been firm and strong but nothing compared to Peter Reidinger, the third of that name to be Earth Prime. The Rowan was very strong, with hints of a substance equal to Reidinger's but never displayed. But afra was now familiar enough with the Rowan to be comfortable, if still in awe.

Reidinger was different. He was the most powerful man in Federal Teleportation and Telepathic. And on his approval, no matter what the Rowan had said, depended afra's continued appointment to Callisto Tower. However, afra managed a creditable, he thought, response, calm, unfl.u.s.tered, and above all, mannerly. His parents would have been proud of him.

Atta boy, afra, the Rowan said when Reidinger's presence had withdrawn. He loves to dominate. Has most of FT&T scared witless saves him a lot of trouble to have instantaneous obedience but it can be inhibiting. You just carry on as you did and don't let him fl.u.s.ter you. Remember, and here the Rowan allowed a wicked chuckle to weave into her tone, he doesn't scare me and if I want you, I'll have you.

Tell you what, afra. Before he can bellow at you - and he will present him with one of your origamis... say a bull in full bellow!

A scarlet bull. Take the wind out of his sails.

Distract him and you'll have the upper hand.

Are you sure the upper hand is good for a lowly T4 from Capella?

The Rowan projected an even more malicious grin.

Sweet-talking words is for a woman: standing your ground is a male prerogative.

In retrospect, it was not Reidinger who awed afra in point of fact, but the sheer size of the Blundell building, surrounded by the immense cargo and pa.s.senger terminals, cradles and auxiliary structures. afra stood by the personnel capsule in which the Rowan had sent him from Callisto and gawked. TheFT&T complex was larger than the capital of Capella. Beyond it stretched the commercial and residential towers of the largest single metropolis of the Central Worlds, receding into a distance his eyes could not adequately measure.

He was, however, aware of air tinged with an unknown odour which his mind told him must be 'brine' since theFT&T complex bordered an ocean.

'afra of Callisto Station?' He whirled and saw a youth in the uniform of an FT&T apprentice, a stocky lad with oddly flecked green eyes, dark hair and a fresh complexion.

'Yes,' and he echoed the acknowledgement telepathically, testing the messenger.

The boy grinned and held up his hand in the formal greeting between Talents. 'Gollee Gren. I'm supposed to be a T-4.

'On escort duty?' afra smiled back, remembering his service in the same capacity on Capella.

'When no-one else is available,' Gollee said, not the least bit disconcerted by such duties. 'This way. You've got to clear security and that takes time.

Even when it's obvious who I am?

Gollee shrugged, his grin droll. 'Don't be offended.

They even go through the rigmarole for visiting Primes.' 'Don't lay it on too thick, Gollee. Primes don't visit.' 'Well, you know what I mean. Even T-2s get the treatment. No-one gets into the Great G.o.d Reidinger without clearance.' Gollee had gestured towards the airy sh.e.l.l of concrete and plasglas that formed the entrance to the huge Blundell FT&T Agency Headquarters.

It did take time to clear security, scanners, retina search, personal interviews - though it was clear they had afra's dossier on screen as he was interviewed. afra was tempted to remark that a telepathic check from any T-3 or 2 would allay any suspicions, but the att.i.tudes of the T-8s processing him suggested he'd better not interrupt the process with an impertinence. The security guards did not have his height but outweighed him by many kilos. They were especially concerned about his origami and subjected it to so many tests that afra was alarmed that they'd ruin the little gift.

'Surely you realize that it's only folded paper? Here!' He tore a sheet from the pad on the desk and with practised skill, folded a replica. 'See?' The guards 'saw' but were palpably unimpressed with his dexterity, though Gollee was. Eventually they had to concede that it posed no threat.

Finally the security badge was grudgingly handed over.

With a mental sigh of relief, Gollee led him towards the bank of grav lifts.

Gollee punched an intricate code, his fingers flas.h.i.+ng so fast afra's eyes could not follow nor was he able, in that instant, to read Gollee's suddenly s.h.i.+elded mind.

They're even stricter about that, Gollee said in an apologetic tone. I've only just been a.s.signed to guide duty and they really do mind-burn anyone who disobeys or bends the drill.

'They would have to, of course, Prime Reidinger being so important to Central Worlds,' he added aloud and motioned for afra to step with him into the programmed shaft. 'How long have you been doing that paper-folding?

You made it look so easy.

The upward motion was unusually rapid for a grav shaft.

'Basically origami is easy. Once you get the hang of it.

'Where'd you learn? Is it a Capellan thing?' 'No, it originates from a place called j.a.pan.

'Oh, in the Pacific Ocean somewhere.' 'So I understand.' Then, suddenly, a narrow aperture opened into which the current pulled them.

The access snapped shut behind them. Gollee grinned at afra's reaction.

'No way you can get into the Prime's quarters without the right clearance. The entire building is s.h.i.+elded and sealed especially this part.' 'I don't think I'd like to live like that.' 'We never will.

We're not Primes.' A second, more generous opening appeared and remained long enough for afra and Gollee to step out into the lobby which was elegantly decorated in soft greens and comfortable seating.

Fractiles were displayed on a corner screen and soft music fell pleasantly on the ear. Gollee made for the door - the least ornate of several opening on to the lobby - to his left.

'Stand square,' Gollee murmured as they reached the door which then slid into the wall. They walked across a second lobby and to the centre door in its wall. 'You're on your own from here but I'll be waiting to guide you back.

Good luck.' His expression suggested that afra needed all he could command.

afra squared his shoulders and eyed the solid wood panels and remembered the Rowan's advice. Would security have informed Prime Reidinger about a red paper bull and spoiled his gambit? The door slid open to admit him into the s.p.a.cious suite occupied by Peter Reidinger.

'Come in, come in,' and the powerful mental voice was just as powerful and intimidating in its audible mode as its owner was physically impressive.

'Thought you might like this, sir,' afra said, advancing quickly toward the semi-circular desk behind which Reidinger sat. It was a case of moving swiftly or having his knees knock treacherously. He was glad that his hand didn't shake as he leaned across the wide desk and placed the delicate red bull in front of Earth Prime.

Surprised by both approach and gift, Reidinger regarded the little figure. Then he threw his head back and roared with laughter.