The Rowan Part 15

She felt deliciously rested, totally sated Rowan! You're broadcasting. . . Afra said with a discreet mental cough.

Startled into full consciousness, the Rowan felt the unexpected heat of a blush. Afra would never 'look' but nonetheless she covered herself with a fold of the thermal sheet. Jeff Raven grumbled sleepily, one hand searching for a touch of her.

'Jeff! Wake up! We've overslept!' 'Nonsense. Today's my day off!' He opened one eye.

'I think that was yesterday, Jeff.' She's right! Reidinger doesn't know you're here Why not? Jeff pulled himself to a sitting position and then hauled the Rowan back into his arms, his hands lightly caressing her.

He's not . . . Afra faltered. He's in a very touchy mood.

That's not unusual! Jeff refused to be cowed. He threw us together on purpose and now I'm here on purpose so he can like it or lump it.

Tell him the truth, Afra, the Rowan added. I overslept and I'll be back at work as soon as I've had a decent breakfast.

Aware that she had, indeed, been delinquent in her own responsibilities, the Rowan tried to wriggle free. But Jeff merely tightened his arms, keeping her close.

Trouble with Reidinger is, he says jump, and every single one of you asks how high! Well, this Denebian lad doesn't!

'IS there anything left to eat in the house, darling?' And, as if he hadn't a care in the world, Jeff grinned fondly down at the woman held firmly against him.

The Rowan swallowed, both appalled by and admiring of Jeff's nonchalance.

'I think, lovely, it isn't only Siglen's conditioning you must slough off.' His voice was soft, very gentle but with an edge in it that gave her another, totally new perspective on Jeff Raven of Deneb.

'That FT&T of yours has exploited you for such a long time that you've never stopped to realize that you, as a Prime AND a citizen of Central Worlds, have certain inalienable rights that you haven't even bothered to exercise!' He dropped an affectionate kiss on the end of her nose.

'And it's time to exercise! Last one in the pool has to take the day off.' He began to unwind himself from her and the covers.

With all respect, Rowan, Raven, Afra said, still standing outside the dwelling, we managed well enough yesterday but there's a pa.s.senger carrier coming in that needs the Rowan's gentle touch.

So it has to stay cradled for half an hour, Jeff replied, employing his mouth to plant kisses on places of the Rowan that he had somehow missed earlier. Tell the Captain it's generator trouble. I have it all the time on Deneb.

None minds!

'But, Jeff, not a pa.s.senger ship. That's a contractual violation . . .' the Rowan began.

'And violating the contract we've been forming is a far more heinous crime in my eyes,' and he leered at her, his black hair hanging over his eyes to give him a very piratical appearance. We shan't be that long, Afra! Tell them they have to give way to a priority shipment. Me. And it's not ready to launch yet.

Their swim was less than brisk but more than languid, interspersed as it was with loving kisses and caresses. Just the touch of his hand roused the Rowan, so totally unused to any physical contact. She kept in tactile contact as if loosing touch would somehow lessen their incredible rapport.

Between them - for Jeff was becoming familiar with the storage and cooking facilities in her kitchen - they had breakfast ready by the time they had dressed.

On their way to the launch pad, the Rowan's hand tucked and held against Jeff's arm, Reidinger's angry shout made her wince.

No need to shout, Jeff Raven replied mildly.

WHAT ARE YOU DOING THERE?.

Spending my day of rest - HA!

Now, now, Reidinger, there is a long-standing precedent for rest days, and I haven't had one, and my lovely Rowan certainly hasn't had one. . . Jeff looked down at her, his blue eyes glinting with pure mischief and a broad grin spreading across his mobile features. He restrained the Rowan from quickening her pace in her obedient effort to placate the angry Earth Prime and held her to his lazy saunter.

You have a contract with FT&T So I do, so do you, and does the Rowan, but nowhere in that contract does it stipulate we are obliged to work a seven day week, twenty-four or twenty-six-hour day. His tone abruptly changed. Now b.u.t.t out, Reidinger. You're invading our privacy. And that IS a contract violation!

Some kind of a sound, initiated and abruptly severed, similar to a gargle of pure rage, echoed in their heads. Jeff grinned and the Rowan looked anxious.

'Honey, don't let him exploit you any more. We can do without him, but he and the mighty FT&T can't do without us! Remember that.

Stiff upper lip and all that guff.' They had reached the battered personnel carrier, in which he had made his surrept.i.tious arrival. Now he took her into his arms again, tucking her head under his chin, their bodies as close physically as their minds were. He said nothing, savoring the contact. Abruptly he released her, kissed her cheek, and stretched himself out in the carrier. 'Same time six days from now, darling.' The hatch covered his rea.s.suring grin.

Scurrying to the Tower, the Rowan pressed her lips tightly against the pain of this farewell, somehow more intense than when she hadn't known what she would be missing.

Now, then, honey, neither distance nor nine can really separate us!

And he gave a quick demonstration that made her gasp. See what I mean?

Her cheeks were burning in the cooler air of the pa.s.sageway.

Ducking her head so that none of the Station personnel could see her face as she entered the Tower, she took the steps two at a time.

By the time she had taken her place, the generators had hit their peak whine.

Safe trip! she said, as she spun his sh.e.l.l back to Deneb.

A kiss that lasted beyond the moons of Neptune brought a smile to her face. Then she flipped up the com to the waiting pa.s.senger liner.

'I do apologize for the slight delay, Captain, but if you are prepared, we can launch at your convenience.' Either he was an unusually tolerant master or someone in the Station had dropped a discreet word, but he made no more comment than to request the lift at the mark of five minutes.

Mi that day the Rowan half expected a blast from Reidinger, so she took particular care to keep incoming and outgoing shipments moving in a steady flow. Nor did she receive any word from Jeff over the next five days. She was, however, in very constant and rea.s.suring touch with her lover: his presence palpable in her mind, like a silken touch in the corner of her mind, a feather-gentle caress.

That was probably why it was such a shock when abruptly she became aware of the absence of that touch.

Jeff? She felt more alone than she had when Purza had been destroyed, than when she had .... . in the tumbling blackness. Jeff'

She strengthened her mental shaft, swiveling in her chair in Deneb's relative detection. JEFF!

Anxiety took the place of surprise. JEFF RAVEN!

What's the matter, Rowan? Afra asked, now aware of her concern.

He's gone. His touch is gone!

She heard several people rushing up the steps to her Tower.

We'll link! Afra suggested as he, Brian Ackerman, and Ray Loftus entered the room.

She opened to them and, tapping the generator power, called again.

Panicking, she turned to afra.

'He isn't there! He's surely heard us!' She tried to keep her voice steady, but Afra was far too sensitive not to feel her growing terror.

The tall Capellan took hold of her hands. 'Breathe more slowly, Rowan. There can be many reasons 'No! No, it's as if he'd been blotted out suddenly. You can't understand Rowan? The mental call was faint, heard only because the Rowan was linked with the others. Rowan.

'You see, I told you . . .' Afra began and she yanked her hands out of his.

'That's not Jeff!' Yes?

Come at once! Jeff needs you!

'Now, wait a moment, Rowan, and Afra caught her arm as she started out of her chair.

'You heard! He needs me! I'm going!' I want a wide open mind from everyone on Station, she added, jumping herself out of Afra's physical grasp and to the launch. She flipped open the canopy and settled herself within. Where's my linkage, Afra? There was a long pause, although the Rowan could feel each new mind of the Station's personnel adding strength to hers, Mauli wishing her luck as Mick echoed it. Afra, do it now! If Jeff needs me, I must go! Do it before I realize what I'm doing!

Rowan, you can't attempt. Afra began, desperately worried for her.

Don't argue, Afra. Help me! If I've been called, I must go!

She already was consumed with anguish by Jeff's absence in her mind: she would go mad with the uncertainty of why his touch had been so abruptly withdrawn.

I will be watching for her at the usual point . . came that faint firm mind-tone.

With her own abilities augmented by all those on the Station, the Rowan overrode afra's hesitation, bringing him so firmly into the merge that he could not resist or alter it. Then, with the coordinates of the dwarf star firmly in her mind, she pressed against the generators, too, and launched her carrier.

PART THREE

DENEB

It was black, yes, but the capsule made the jump with no rotation to remind her of an old terror. She felt the unfamiliar multiple-mind touch hers, felt both urgent need and grat.i.tude. Inclining to it, she followed the path it showed her.

Her carrier rocked as it landed roughly in the cradle.

Simultaneous to the apology for the landing, she heard the gasping, clanking off-torque rattles of a malfunctioning generator. If the multiple-minds had gestalted with that, she was b.l.o.o.d.y lucky to have reached her destination at all.

Opening the canopy, she lifted herself out of the carrier, fighting to hide additional dismay at what she saw. The generator, apparently hastefully installed at the side of what had once been an airfield control tower, gave one last wheeze as a stanchion collapsed.

A cloud of black, oily smoke rose to obscure the mechanical corpse.

From the temporary tower a group of people emerged, one of them carrying a child across her shoulder.

The Rowan reached out and recognized the dominant mind of the merge: Isthia Raven, Jeff s mother. Of the ten minds which had partic.i.p.ated, only hers remained relatively unstressed by what the Rowan knew would have been a tremendous effort for a novice team.

My profound grat.i.tude, she sent gently to them all. How badly is Jeff hurt? she asked directly of his mother.

Isthia Raven looked to her right, to an older man with such a strong resemblance to Jeff that she wasn't surprised to discover that he was an uncle.

'A freak accident,' Rhodri said, guilt/grief/concern vivid in his mind as he spoke. 'We'd found an unexploded beetle bomb. We're supposed to let them (and a thumb jerked skyward indicated the Fleet in orbit above Deneb) '. . . neutralize 'em but the fardling idiots set their great flaming pod down so hard it jarred the detonating mechanism and it exploded. Jeff tried to shield us and forgot to duck! d.a.m.n fool altruist. I told him and I told him that you gotta think of number one first.' As he spoke, she caught a replay of the scene from his mind, which was an orderly one for all the present turmoil of self-recriminations. She saw the cylinder uncovered in the trench it had plowed on the edge of the City; saw the disposal group's tentative investigation; saw the large armored Fleet pod come down, displacing dust and dirt in the ungainly landing, heard the shouts, saw the bomb's disintegration, and the searing rain of fragments and even their deflection. Then she saw Jeff's body start to rotate, stagger, and fall.

'The worst is the chest injury,' his mother said. And from her clear mind, she showed an all too graphic image of Jeff's lacerated body and the long deep wound across the left pectoral. 'The medics say it's only shock but I couldn't reach him. I thought you might be able to. Time is critical.' 'Where is he?' the Rowan replied with a calmness and a.s.surance she did not feel. Especially as she sensed that Isthia Raven was withholding some information. Something else had gone horribly wrong with Jeff. She must deny despair as long as she could.

She paid strict attention when Isthia projected an image of an underground facility, the only still functioning medical installation in the battered City. A large '7' was painted on the pillars outside a lighted entrance. 'We'll follow,' Isthia added, nodding toward the a.s.sortment of groundcars.

The Rowan nodded understandingly, for the kinetic effort had drained energy from everyone in that makeshift team.

She concentrated on her destination's coordinates and teleported herself as close to the 7 pillar as possible, making it less likely that she would collide with a person or an emergency vehicle. Her nose was only an inch from the pillar. She turned herself toward the entrance. Immediately she felt the presence of more Talents, Talents of varying strengths and most of them trying to cope with grief and anguish. Well, this was a hospital! What else did she expect as its aura? Jeff Raven might be the most important one to her personally, but she had caught sight of peripheral victims in Rhodri's vision.

The doors into the Level 7 facility whisked apart for her. She was surprised to find people alert to her arrival, pointing directions to the intensive-care facility where Jeff Raven lay.

She paused long enough in the anteroom to let the sanitizing panels purify her. As soon as that procedure was finished, the inner door slid aside. The recovery room was circular, split into ten wedge-shaped cubicles, several of which were curtained with patients already installed.

Against the wall above each section, easily visible to the nursing staff seated at the central hub of the facility, were banks of screens, monitoring the vital signs of the injured.

Jeff was in the fifth cubicle, four medics and a nurse watching his screens, murmuring occasional comments.

Their mental comments over the erratic behavior of his life signs told the Rowan that two despaired of his recovery: Two more were Talents, and one was desperately trying to think of something more to do for Jeff. Her approach was noted and room was made for her at the bedside.

Despite what she had gleaned of Jeff's injuries from his uncle, she was shocked to see him, his tanned face bleached by the powerful surgical lights, his left side showing nearly a dozen wounds in an almost stylized pattern along his upper arm, chest, hip, thigh, and calf where fragments had been removed. But the chest wound was the deepest. She could follow it, through the layers of skin, muscle, and bone, right to his heart and see where the damage had been repaired.

'Asaph, Chief Medic,' said the older man. His mind still sorted out alternative treatments but he looked to her for some 'miracle'.

'They got you here in record time. We've only just come down from the theater.' He paused and the Rowan had no need of her Talent to recognize his reluctance to proceed.

'Your prognosis?' He sighed, choosing his words, but the Rowan followed those he discarded and those he used. 'He has suffered ma.s.sive shock and insult. It was touch and go despite the fact they 'ported him directly here. The Admiral sent down two of his best surgeons,' and Asaph indicated two of the other medics.

The Rowan's swift probe told her that the naval medics were amazed the man had lived through surgery and didn't give him a chance of survival. Their doubt stiffened the Rowan's purpose.

'Shock can be reduced, and major bodily insult, she said with such confidence and a.s.surance that she surprised herself. But this was Jeff. Jeff Raven, her lover.

'Get him through the next few hours and he could stabilize,' Asaph said, somehow taking heart from her positive att.i.tude.

'It'd be a miracle,' one of the naval men said, shaking his head.

'There should have been a response by now The Rowan ignored him and looked at the two Talents the nurse, whose mind identified herself as Rakella Chadevsky, Jeri's aunt, and the medic, identified as his surgeon brother, Dean.

'Have either of you tried for a response?' 'Tried, yes, when he was first brought in -- Dean admitted.

There was not so much as a flicker, Rakella said, and a great deal to be done physically before it was too late. At that, I only just managed to restart the heart!

No delay? the Rowan asked, refusing to panic for that was what Isthia Raven had withheld from her. Hearts can be repaired, replaced if necessary, even in this temporary facility. As long as the brain had not been deprived of oxygen, a heart wound was not as serious as a major head wound would have been for a Talent.

None, Rakella rea.s.sured her. I was monitoring his heart closely because of the wound she gave a tremulous smile, I caught it before the EEc could register it!

Then no-one's tried to reach him on the metamorphic level...