Part 22 (2/2)

'Placements!' Both Tower screens showed the huge ore pods, dwarfing the men on the ground in the mine yard, and even the heavy cranes and flatbeds that had helped load them.

Beneath the picture were the coordinates for delivery at Betelgeuse's outer planet.

Betelgeuse Tower, Aurigae here, she said, observing protocol.

Damia? Morning, replied David of Betelgeuse. The refineries have been screaming for this s.h.i.+pment.

You're likely to have a hernia bringing 'em in, Damia said.

Too much for you, darling? David asked archly. Afra knew the older Prime enjoyed taunting Damia.

Not for me, she replied, projecting a broad and confident grin.

Ready?

Damia! Afra sent the warning on a tight shaft, having heard just that tone of voice from her mother.

Don't Afra. You'll spoil my fun! Damia shot back and began the lift. Because he'd been forewarned by her mental tone, Afra was ready to follow her mind to the immense drones in the yard and felt himself strengthened, by the incredible catalytic link she could establish.

Effortlessly they 'ported the first big daddy towards its destination.

What under the stars are those Aurigaens trying to prove?

David exclaimed and both of them heard him work to receive her 'port.

Your princ.i.p.als were screaming for the s.h.i.+pment, weren't they?

Damia's voice was smooth and silky with satisfaction.

Ready number two?

Ready when you are, and there was determination in David's voice.

By the ninth 'port, Afra knew himself to be tiring and wondered at the energy Damia exuded.

That is the last of such weights I will accept from Aurigae, David said. And I'm registering a complaint against the mines with Earth Prime. I can't imagine why you haven't, Damia.

I don't mind cooperating with management and industry but nine of those is stretching both of us. Do not, I repeat, do not accept such monsters again. Why, I could s.h.i.+ft a battle fleet more easily.

Damia's grin at irritating David altered to a frown and Afra sensed her sudden apprehension.

A random remark, and those daddies would weigh the same. You've had your fun. Leave it, Afra shot at her.

'You do have coffee here, don't you?' he asked, looking about the Tower.

Two steaming cups and a plate of energy biscuits appeared and one cup horned in on Afra, the plate following it.

'You're guest,' she said with an unrepentant grin and a shrug of her slim shoulders. 'I don't have enough staff to adhere to strict protocol.' Refreshed, they were shortly ready to 'port and receive incoming cargo, none of which was anywhere near the weight or ma.s.s of the morning's first delivery. Damia worked without affectation, Afra was pleased to note: a Prime in easy command of her skills. There was an excellent harmony with every one of her staff. Aurigae was a more than adequate testing ground for Damia.

Afra wondered if she'd been apprised that she would succeed Guzman at Procyon when the old Prime was finally persuaded to step down.

Despite her youth, FT&T would have insisted on his retirement if they'd known how frail the old man was but Jeff Raven, and others, conspired to deceive the administration. And they'd continue to do so as long as necessary.

Shortly, all the incoming loads had been cradled and the light afternoon traffic processed. Damia, her eyes glinting with mischief, slid out of the conformable chair and signalled for Afra to take her place. When the focal Talent of the gestalt went from one to the other, not even a half beat of the pulse of the Aurigaen Tower was missed. Damia used the Tower exit to reach her capsule and informed Afra of her departure. He let up on the gestalt long enough for her to 'port her own launch before he picked it up again. She was gone too quickly for him to keep even the most negligible of contacts with her.

So much for that notion. However, her absence would permit Afra to use gestalt to communicate with Jeff should he need to. The Tower's work proceeded smoothly. There was, in fact, rather more traffic than Damia had antic.i.p.ated, but no more big daddies, though several medium drones of refined material had to be despatched to various destinations. Inbound supplies arrived sporadically but nothing that an experienced T-3 couldn't handle. However, number two generator was definitely ailing and Afra was concerned. Xexo tinkered and fiddled with it whenever he could but the machine needed more than adjustments.

Fortunately, Damia would not require full station power to a.s.sist her comings and goings so, once the day's work was done, Xexo could begin to dismantle it.

In terms of intergalactic distances, the aliens approached at the proverbial snail's pace: by interstellar references, incredibly fast.

Such a feat argued for a highly sophisticated technical species.

On the evening of the eighth day, Damia returned from her quest, bursting with news. She 'ported herself from her capsule right into the lounge area where Afra was amusing the c.o.o.nies.

'I made individual contact,- she cried. 'And what a mind!' She was far too excited to notice Afra's flare of apprehension. He told himself this was just Damia being her usual melodramatic self. 'And what a surprise he got, she went on.

From the first words out of her mouth, Afra knew that the mind was male.

'Really?' and he injected genuine interest into his response. 'A Prime Talent?' 'I can't a.s.sess his abilities. He's so...

different,' she exclaimed, her eyes s.h.i.+ning and her mental aura dazzling with her success. 'He fades and then returns. The distance is still immense, of course, and there isn't much definition in the thoughts. We can only deal in abstracts.' She laughed tiredly. 'As scientists have often maintained, I made a start by reciting the periodic table of chemicals and basic atomic structures to establish at least some level of communication.

'Surely an intergalactic s.h.i.+p would utilize a more sophisticated source than atomic power?' 'I'm sure it would have to, to travel such distances,' and Damia threw herself on the long couch, pus.h.i.+ng back her long hair in a tired gesture before she let her hand drop bonelessly to the cus.h.i.+oning. 'I can't be bothered at this stage of interaction to deal with minor details.' 'Minor details?' 'Oh, don't fuss, Afra,' she said irritably. 'Considering our s.p.a.ce travel experts postulate drives as far beyond fusion as the wheel from mixed fuel s.p.a.ce drives, we can posit that they would have to have developed an efficient drive. At least I could project mutually understood abstracts. I'm exhausted. I haven't had this sort of a workout since Larak and I played dodgeball against all the cousins.

Let me grab a little nap before I contact Dad.' 'Xexo's patching that ailing generator.' Damia scowled, then shrugged off that complication.

'All the more reason for me to have an hour's snore.' 'You don't snore,' Afra said firmly, giving her a mock stern glare.

She managed a grin for his loyal denial.

Afra waited until she relaxed into sleep. Putting ethics aside, he tried to reach this experience in her mind, below the emotional level, only to find himself overwhelmed by the subjective. Damia was indulging in a high emotional kick! He recognized that she had every reason to be proud of herself in establis.h.i.+ng any sort of contact with an alien but he was afraid for her, with a fear deeper than any he had ever touched personally or vicariously.

Afra withdrew, troubled. Crisp and Merry crawled over to him, whining softly as if they felt his concern. Soothing them, he managed to disperse his presentiment.

He let her wake up naturally and was proud of her now calm and balanced mind. As she 'reached' Jeff, she was totally the Prime, giving a considered and professional report of the contact. Not a trace of the excitation Afra had probed coloured her thoughts. When she had finished 'pathing, Jeff inserted a private query for Afra but he could only confirm Damia's report.

He saw no point to mention vague forebodings but he dId mention the matter of overweight drones. Jeff had received a formal complaint from David of Betelgeuse and there was to be an official protest from FT&T to Aurigae Miners.

The next day, Damia tossed off the few live 'portations and departed for her surveillance. And Afra contained his presentiments.

She returned so s.h.i.+ning from the second session of communication that Afra had to clamp an icy hold over his mental reactions.

'We're making great progress in conceptualizations,' she told Afra, pirouetting with abandon into the lounge and flopping on to the long couch, her eyes glowing. One long tress, half black hair, half white, fell across her flushed face.

'Such as?' he enquired in a politely interested tone. She was so absorbed by her accomplishment that she didn't react to his ironic tone.

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