The Rowan Part 8

Then, for the first time, she 'ported herself directly to her quarters at the Tower. She'd had the range and strength to do so for several years but this was the first time she'd had occasion to make use of that ability. Rascal launched himself at her from the bookcase, muttering imprecations at her as he clung to her shoulder. She turned her head to bury her face in his soft fur, and felt the sting of tears again. She bit her lip and walked toward the kitchen to give him a treat for his welcome. She couldn't bear to look down the corridor to Lusena's empty room.

The comunit rang imperatively. 'I'm back, Gerry, she said.

'It is not Gerolaman,' Siglen's thick voice answered her.

'Where have you been, you irresponsible child? Stand where I can view you. This instant.' 'In a moment, Prime, I'm presently indisposed.' The Rowan stroked Rascal as he happily munched his morsel before she complied.

'Where have you . . Siglen's protruberant eyes bulged still further as she took in the Rowan's altered appearance. 'Your hair?

You cut your hair? And it's the wrong color! What have you been doing? Where have you been? Do you not realize that Lusena is to be interred today and you must, in decency, attend.' 'I'll go as soon as I've changed and as soon as I know where the ceremony will be.'

'Secretary Camella is representing the Council and you will have to hurry to be ready. And really, you must do something about your hair before attending an interment.' 'Why? My hair was Lusena's idea.

Excuse me, Prime. If haste is the order, I have things to do.'

'And you will report to me the instant you return, do you hear me, Rowan?

You have tried my patience beyond all bounds.

Unable to bear such recriminations, the Rowan cut and closed down the connection. Geny, tell me where. I want to go on my own!

Gerolaman was not a sender but she felt him receive her message and knew he was acting on it. She didn't need another shower but after she had changed to suitable clothing for the sad duty, she bathed her face in cold water until he arrived. Rascal coughed a warning of his entry.

There was great pity in the stationmaster's face for her, and a sorrow of his own for the loss of a dear and valued colleague.

'Can I say anything to help, Rowan?' he asked, his hands held open in a gesture of helplessness. He was dressed with appropriate sobriety, his usually unkempt hair parted and flat on his skull. His eyes were red, too.

She shook her head. 'You'll come with me?' 'The Secretary of the Interior 'Camella will be in floods: she was very close to Lusena . .

.' it hurt even to speak her name. 'I can't stand more emotional backlash, not all the way to the interment.

If we can get to your office where I can use gestalt, I'll get us both there. I'll want to see Bardy and Finnan. At least, she was there when Bardy needed her.' 'Now wait a minute, Rowan, you can't tap the gestalt without Siglen's permission?' 'Scared I'll mis-jump us?'

'No, trying to keep you acting sensibly!' 'There is nothing sensible about grief,' she flashed at him. Then grimaced and added in an affected tone, a hand to her forehead, 'I'm grief-stricken. I don't quite know what I'm doing. Will you come with me?' 'I'd better!' He turned and led the way down the corridor toward his office. She followed.

Once inside, she placed both hands on his shoulders. 'Is there anything medium large in the cradles right now?' 'No. Not right now.

Siglen is upset, you know,' and his fierce expression surprised the Rowan. Gerolaman had several loyalties but the Tower was the top priority. 'She hasn't been working well today 'I can see that,' the Rowan remarked flatly, glancing at the pressure idling in the generators. 'What are the coordinates?' Gerolaman hesitated but she hooked her fingers sharply into his flesh and he gave them in a grating voice. She leaned into the leashed power of the Tower's generators as she had done time and again over the past three years. She felt the surge through her and, making sure of her grip on Gerolaman, she 'ported them both.

She almost laughed at the relief on the stationmaster's face as they arrived, without so much as a landing stumble, in front of the Claimtown's one munic.i.p.al building.

ROWAN! How DARE you! Siglen roared in her mind.

Leave me alone right now, Siglen. You can read me all the pertinent Rules and Regulations I've just broken when I get back to the Tower.

Siglen had no reply to such mutinous impertinence but the Rowan was aware of peripheral fuming and boiling fury.

The Rowan ignored that as she ignored Gerolaman's concerned expression. 'C'mon. Bardy's house is down that way.

'Lusena'll be in there,' Gerolaman pointed to the building.

'There'll be nothing of my Lusena in there. I'll remember her as she left Favor Bay. But I can help Bardy In truth, the Rowan was almost afraid of confronting her foster sister. She had monopolized so much of Lusena's life, never mind the fact that Lusena had willingly accepted the post. Bardy had been solicitous and kind to the fosterling but there had been times when both Bardy and Finnan had resented their mother's absorption in her charge. Why wouldn't they?

That's why she wanted Gerolaman with her, to see that she faced her foster sibs, to deflect any recriminations.

There were none. Instead Bardy, true daughter of a generous natured mother, comforted the Rowan who burst into tears at the sight of her. Finnan threw his arms about both women and, with Gerolaman, comforted them.

Then there were the twins to be admired and one of them did seem to be a tiny replica of her grandmother which was both rea.s.suring and saddening.

So it was as a family, united in their sorrow, that they all went to the interment. The Secretary of the Interior was there, obviously relieved to see the Rowan in attendance.

It was a mark of considerable respect that it was the Secretary herself who read the eulogy but the Rowan 'heard' more than the sincere words: She 'heard' much from the others gathered there, and some of it was unkind, untrue, and specious. She closed those minds out and concentrated on the spoken words. The tears continued to fall into her hands. Then a large handkerchief was offered by Finnan, and Bardy's hand, so like Lusena's in shape, closed firmly on the Rowan's arm.

Through that contact, she was one briefly with her.

By custom, internment was not a lengthy ceremony on Altair.

Afterward the Secretary, firmly but kindly, insisted that the Rowan and Gerolaman accompany her back to Port Altair in her fast shuttle.

Numbed by her acute loss, the Rowan acquiesced. Bardy and Finnan said they could keep in touch with her: they still considered her their little sister. But, on the trip back, the Rowan's emotions were so overloaded that she curled up in a chair and closed out even the tacit understanding sympathy of the Secretary and Gerolaman. As anodyne, she forced her mind to dwell only on the tranquil return voyage of the Miraki, cutting through the lucid blue waters, the gleaming whiteness of the sail on that dazzlingly bright morning, the sensation of wind on her face, sun on her body, until the monotonous rhythm of the sea lulled her into an exhausted sleep.

She awoke, late the next morning, in her own bed. Rascal mumbling beside her head on the pillow.

Rowan? She recognized Bralla's tentative voice. Reidinger has left word that you are to contact him as soon as you wake.

Reidinger? Can't Siglen do her own chewing out?

I a.s.sure you, Rowan, and Bralla sounded prim with rebuke, Siglen quite understood your state of mind yesterday and wishes to hear no more about it. We are all simpathetic to your terrible loss. But Reidinger was most emphatic about an immediate contact.

He can speak loud enough to wake me.

No-one was going to wake you up, Rowan, and again Bralla reproved her.

Sorry, Bralla.

That's all right, dear, and Bralla's tone was kinder by many degrees.

I'll get a brew and speak to Earth Prime immediately.

Rascal clung to her, claws uncomfortably latching into her new curls, as she got out of bed, tossed a robe about her, and went to make a stimulant. There'd been a note of sympathy from Reidinger among the pile on Bardy's table Well, he owed her a lot.

She picked up the hologram that Reidinger had sent her of himself, to use as a focus. He'd usually contacted her.

She took a long swig of the hot drink and arranged herself for the long mental leap to Earth. Reidinger's hologram had him seated in a chair, arms on the rest, hands relaxed, a position of repose which she secretly felt he had a.s.sumed only for the replication. Even so, his alert, heavy-featured face, the erect posture of his body, gave off clues of the tremendous energy and potential of the man. His dark blue eyes seemed to spark - a trick of the holographer - as if, even over the light years separating them, he had a total awareness of her, the Rowan.

Reidinger! She focused her mind on those large, bright eyes. She was about to repeat the call with more force when she felt his touch.

Awake, are you? He might have been in the next room so strong was the contact.

Did I wake you? I was told to make contact as soon as I could.

It won't be the first time and I don't use sleep much.

Gerolaman tells me you haven't sat in yet on this latest course.

Before she could frame a response, he went on. I want you to sit in, sort out which personalities you like, with a view to a Tower staff of at least twenty. Gerolaman a.s.sures me that your judgment's good.

It's much easier, and now his tone was sardonic, if we can start off a new Tower with a well integrated staff, otherwise efficiency suffers.

So take your time choosing.

The Rowan shot upright in the chair. A new Tower?

Girl's quick. Yes, a new Tower. On Callisto so it's a terraformed Station. FIT agree that Callisto can route a lot of the stuff that has had to come in System first before it can be rerouted.

You'll be saving me a lot of headaches and give me time to acquire others that only Earth Prime can solve. You're young, I know, but you'll be under my supervision and if you think Siglen's been rough on you, you'll soon learn that she was really the lesser of two evils.

As soon as you've a.s.sembled a crew, you and they will depart directly for Callisto. Check in with me tomorrow at precisely 9.00 earth time.

The gap left by his departure was almost palpable in the quiet room.

'A new Tower,' she murmured, stunned. 'On Callisto?' That was one of Jupiter's moons. Why there? Why not on the Earth's Moon? Surely that would have been feasible with all the terraforming that had been done to improve that satellite. 'I'm to a.s.semble a team? I'm to . .

. I'm to be a Prime!' Gerolaman, Reidinger's a.s.signed me to Callisto Tower!

I can't say that you deserve such a signal honor, young woman, Siglen answered her. At least you will be under his direct supervision and I must say, after the other day, that's exactly where you should be!

Quite right, Siglen. Quite right. Not even Siglen was going to spoil her elation.

Lusena would have cheered! The Rowan closed her eyes over the pain the errant thought evoked. Lusena would never know that her charge had achieved Prime status.

And the Rowan could not suppress her bitter tears which she wiped quickly away when she heard the rap on her door.

Gerolaman entered, his smile tentative until he saw her bravely smile back at him. 'That's my girl. Put regret aside. She'd have been proud, no doubt of it, as I am but,' and he shook the sheaf of hard copy he held, 'we've work to do now in earnest, Prime Rowan. My pleasure and my privilege to a.s.sist. Work did help: She had to concentrate on the reports first, and then had to match them up with the people on the course. Half a dozen times, she found herself thinking she must tell Lusena this or that, and the anguish would seize her momentarily until she relentlessly pushed it back. Sorrow was yesterday: today was for her future, the future which Lusena had cherished for her - her own Station and the t.i.tle of Prime.

Four years on and she still liked Ray Loftus and Joe Toglia as technicians and maintenance personnel. Gerolaman approved for they had good records as a.s.sistants in their skills and had worked at Procyon, Betelgeuse, and Earth. Mauli and Mick were available for rea.s.signment and they had always intrigued the Rowan. From the new people on this course, she chose a Bill Powers as a.s.sistant supercargo from his record as well as his calm, stolid manner and a slow smile.

'As good a reason as any,' Gerolaman remarked, 'considering you're going to have to look at his face a lot.' An older woman, a Capellan named Cardia Ren Harter, might work out as Stationmaster. She'd temped in that position on Betelgeuse and Prime David recommended her. She wondered about the fifty-year-old scan reader, Zabe Talumet: His qualifications were sound but he seemed to have moved around a lot.

But he had a good rating in his profession.

'You'll have to expect some shake-ups before you shake down, Rowan,' Gerolaman a.s.sured her. 'Personalities have to mesh and that takes time, trial and often error.

Whatever crew you pick aren't set in plasglas forever, you know.

It took nearly six years before Siglen was satisfied, and some of her choices have always astonished me and Bralla but we all work well when it comes to the crunch.' Reidinger sent four more T-4 and T-5 ratings from Earth Prime, and when she couldn't find a good life support manager, bullied someone from the Moon into taking a promotion in the Callisto's system.

Three days later, Bralla earnestly requested the Rowan to have dinner with Siglen.

'She really did feel badly about Lusena. And she was terrified that you'd been in the crash, too. It took her a nervous half hour before she located the wreck and she scared the local officials out of their wits with a direct consultation. She's really thrilled for your promotion, Rowan, truly she is.' The Rowan entertained a niggle of suspicion about Siglen being thrilled for her sudden advancement by Reidinger. Altair's Prime had always maintained that the Rowan would not be ready for any responsibilities for years. Certainly the Rowan had never been called to account for her impertinence, and direct action, disregarding Siglen's explicit orders. Still there was little point in any unnecessary bad feelings between herself and Altair's Prime.

So, the Rowan purchased a plainly cut, flowing dinner dress in a pale gray - about the only color that wouldn't clash with the flamboyant colors in Siglen's dining area, with a silver torque, to make a subtle statement of her adult status. She presented herself at Siglen's suite to be greeted by Bralla who nodded approvingly and ushered her into the reception area.

Siglen had made significant inroads on the dainty canapes which accompanied the aperitifs. Three places at the dining table meant that Bralla was included, a fact which rea.s.sured the Rowan.

Siglen initiated the conversation with a long explanation of systems updates which Reidinger had discussed with her at length. The Rowan listened politely all through the first three courses of which she ate only enough to be courteous.

'It really is too mean of Reidinger to transfer you just when Altair will be upgraded. You could learn so much from the new equipment if you stay just a few more months here so that I can advise you.

'If it's all new equipment, Siglen, you'll be learning to operate it, too, won't you?' replied the Rowan logically.

She noticed the twitch of annoyance on the Prime's face but she could find no break in the woman's mental shield.

The twitch expanded slightly into a weak smile.

'I do wish you ate properly, my dear. I gave a good deal of thought to this evening's meal. You are so thin and whatever will they think of me,' a jeweled thumb pressed dramatically against Siglen's large bosom, 'and the way I have cared for you.' 'The medics say I have an active metabolism, Siglen, and I'm unlikely ever to put on much extra weight.' 'But you will need it, my dear, to sustain you.'

Siglen's flabby face now registered extreme concern.

'To sustain me? I believe the hydroponics units at the Callisto Station are state of the art and can supply every known edible fruit and vegetable.

'I'm sure you'll be all right once you get to Callisto,' and there was an ominous suggestion of imminent disaster in Siglen's round tones.

'Of course I'll be all right on Callisto.' 'Yes, but you have to get there!' Then, to the Rowan's utter amazement, Siglen burst into tears, covering her face with her napkin. She reached out a hand to grab the Rowan's and there was no doubt of the woman's concern and anxiety. The girl looked to Bralla for an explanation. Terror pulsed through Siglen's fingers to the Rowan who worked her fingers free, wanting no part, however vicarious, of that particular emotion.

Bralla looked equally upset, her mouth quivering.

'What are you talking about, Siglen?' Mopping her eyes, Siglen gave the Rowan a single woeful glance before propping both heavy arms on the table and once again giving way to noisy sobs.

'It's s.p.a.ce, my dear,' Bralla said, her expression rife with dread.

'What do you mean?' 'You know what travel in s.p.a.ce does to Primes, Rowan,' Bralla told her earnestly as if that explained everything.

'David suffered agonies when he left here for Betelgeuse.

He was so unwise to believe that a male Prime would be unaffected.

Capella took three months to recover from her disorientation.'

'I've 'ported myself from Favor Bay to Bardy's Claimsite without any disorientation -'But you were planet bound, with home gravity . .

Bralla argued.

'And I've flown in shuttles all over Altair.' 'Shuttles are not at all the same thing as being 'ported, Siglen said disputatiously. 'Oh, I have dreaded this from the moment I heard the rumor about Callisto Station. I begged Reidinger to consider T-2s, any sort of combination but you, Rowan. I couldn't let you, a mere baby, go through that terror so soon after your hideous ordeal. Now you don't even have Lusena to support you m your hour of need.' The Rowan hadn't thought of that abortive attempt to send her three-year-old self to Earth for her training. But she did indeed remember the dark pa.s.sage into the shuttle: into an enclosed s.p.a.ce. The erratic motion of the Miraki through the Straits reinforced that ancient terror far too vividly.

'Nonsense. I'll be perfectly all right. I was a child and no-one had explained anything to me. They just said I had to . . . and she opened her eyes wide so as not to see the huge frightening maw they had been urging her into. 'I do wish, Siglen, that you didn't make a mountain out of a molehill. I'll be perfectly all right.' 'That's what David said when I warned him about spatial disorientation. Capella believed me and went heavily sedated but it still took her three months to reorient herself. I wish I could spare you this when you have so recently lost your confidante. There isn't one of the T-4s in Gerolaman's course who'd be any use to you.

Bralla agrees with me.' Bralla nodded vigorously and the Rowan kept a tight grip on a growing vexation.