Damia (35 page)

“Fair enough,” Afra said, with an indifference he didn’t feel as he passed her a plate. “However, the lack of sting-psszt is not going to reassure Earth Prime. Tomorrow, take me along for the ride. There’ll be no need to introduce me. All I need to do is confirm your sense of the aura. I certainly wouldn’t want to jeopardize whatever rapport you’ve managed to build. He’ll never realize I’ve been there.” Afra yawned.

“Why are
you
tired?”

“I’ve been stevedoring all day,” he said with a malicious grin.

“How? Who?” Damia demanded, indignantly. “There was nothing urgent on the schedule when I went off.”

“No, there wasn’t, but there was a minor mine disaster where the Tower could assist. Then a delayed shipment of spare parts was signaled in from Procyon, and a freighter with some perishables and a convoy of prospective immigrants came through.”

“Damn them! They were taking advantage of you, Afra! Towers have protocol to avoid collisions and confusions. Especially on inbound ’ports. Unscheduled shipments . . .” Then she stopped, for he was grinning at her. She let out a gusty sigh. “I know.” She waved her hand irritably. “Phrases out of mother’s mouth. But . . .”

Afra waggled a finger at her. “You set the precedent at Aurigae Tower, Damia, by being so cooperative that miners and shippers assume that you’re ready, willing, and able when need arises.”

“This smells heavenly,” she said artlessly as she loaded her fork.

“Hah!” Afra said, refusing to be diverted.

“And it is,” she said through her first mouthful. “Lovely seasoning.”

“Thank you. By the way, that crew of yours is really excellent. Even the generator behaved. Have some chopped fruit. Takes the edge off that pepper.”

They ate companionably, though Damia’s appetite seemed to be affected by her fatigue, for she usually went for seconds of one of his special meals. She did ask for details of the mine problem—a line of ore carts had slipped off the cable, causing an obstruction in the shaft which Afra and the Tower folk were able to shift so there was no significant loss of time. When he asked her what else she had discussed with Sodan, she had trouble formulating sentences despite a resurgence of animation on that subject.

“Don’t stand on ceremony with me, Damia,” Afra finally said when she didn’t even have the energy to groom Merfy, when the animal brought her the brush. “Here, I’ll do Merfy. You go to bed. Sleep well.”

Such exhaustion for one so vibrantly healthy worried Afra even more than her emotional involvement with this Sodan entity. It no longer mattered that the intruder was unrelated to the species that attacked Deneb; he was a menace in himself.

The next day, after ’porting out medium-sized drones of refined ores, Damia told Keylarion to inform any callers that the Tower was on hold for repairs to the generator that Xexo now said were critical. Then she and Afra settled into their personal capsules. Afra followed Damia’s thrust and held himself silent as she reached the area where she could touch the aura of Sodan. To his relief, Damia had no hesitation when Afra asked permission to establish a light-link in her mind. So she carried them both to the alien ship. As soon as the alien touch impinged on Afra’s awareness, much was suddenly clear to him: much seen, and worse, much unseen.

What Damia could not, would not, or did not see justified Afra’s nagging presentiment of danger.
Nothing
out of
Sodan’s mind was visible: and nothing beyond his public mind was accessible. The alien had a powerful mentality. As a quiescent eavesdropper, Afra could not probe, but he widened his own sensitivity to its limit, and the impressions he received served to confirm and increase his intuition of danger.

There was absolutely no comparison between Sodan and the Deneb invasion species. Damia was correct in that evaluation. One impression, which surprised Afra, was that of an almost interminable journey. And excitement at an end in sight. Yet how Afra could grasp that concept from a mind that did not yet speak in a known language, he did not know. But those were the impressions he grasped.

Damia would not expect Afra to linger once he had satisfied his stated errand. But, fascinated by the contact, he did linger, discovering other unsettling aspects. Sodan’s mind, undeniably brilliant, was nevertheless augmented. Afra couldn’t perceive whether Sodan was the focus for other minds on the ship or in gestalt with the ship’s power source. Straining his nerves and senses to the limit without revealing his presence, Afra tried to pierce the visual screen or, at least, the aural one. All he received was a low stereo babble of mechanical activity, and the burn of heavy elements, the latter sufficiently disturbing in itself. Yet how did a species without a visual faculty function on such a sophisticated level? To be sure, antennae of various sorts relayed a tremendous amount of information to an intelligent mind: sensors and optics imitated vision, but it was the sight of stars that had lured Mankind into space. What had been this alien’s goad to cross intergalactic space?

Worried and frustrated, Afra withdrew, leaving Sodan and Damia to exchange abstracts that, to him, were also the ploys of emotional attraction. He returned to Aurigae and sought the Tower couch. He felt completely drained by the brief jaunt. That was in itself unnerving. He’d planned to contact Larak on Procyon without having to gestalt. But he knew that was impossible just then. Carefully
assuming a light tone, he asked Keylarion to bring a generator on line for him.

“We’ve three if you need them,” the T-6 replied helpfully.

“No, one’s enough.” And Afra hoped that it would be. For a T-3, one should be sufficient. He scrubbed at his face while he watched the gauge on number one generator climb to sending level. It was not, Afra assured himself, that Damia had deliberately concealed anything in her reports to him or to Jeff: she was entirely unaware that her usually keen perceptions were fuddled and distorted by the fatigue levels caused by contact with this alien. And Damia had been spending hours dealing abstracts at Sodan? He exhaled noisily and wondered if a cup of coffee would have a reviving effect. But the needle reached the required level just as Keylarion verified readiness to him. Even with the gestalt, ’pathing to Larak was an effort.

Larak
, Afra called, leaning heavily into the power and projecting his own mental/physical concept of Larak to aid him in reaching the boy’s mind.

Man, you’re beat
, Larak answered, his touch sharp, clear, green.

Larak, relay back to Jeff that this Sodan
 . . .

It’s got a name?

It’s got more than that and Damia is responding on a very high emotional level
, Afra sighed heavily.
This entity has no resemblance to the Deneb Penetration species. No Beetle sting
 . . .

What? Oh, yeah, I remember.
Larak’s projection of a grin was oddly comforting to Afra.

But there’s something very insidious about this Sodan individual. A few moments in its company and I’m shagged enough so that I needed gestalt to reach you.

You?
That was enough to remove the grin from Larak’s voice.

Please inform Jeff that I consider this situation of a highly volatile—and possibly dangerous—nature. I want you out here as soon as possible on any pretext so I can
get through to Earth Prime without requiring either Damia or gestalt. And
—Afra paused to emphasize the next request—
please ask both Jeff and the Rowan to remain available to me on demand.

What has my darling sister found this time!
Larak responded with an impressed whistle.

Get Mick and Mauli to push you out here as soon as you can relay that message, huh, Larak, like a good lad?

Coming
, Larak responded crisply.

Afra leaned back in the couch and flicked off the generator. The exchange had taken no more than thirty seconds: not long enough for Keylarion to take particular note or even log it into the station records. Not that Damia would check the station log if she returned: she’d be too tired, he thought grimly. How did that entity cause such enervation? Why? Afra brooded. Perhaps he was being over-sensitive because Damia was so absorbed by this contact. He had half-hoped, when Jeff told him to go to Aurigae, that he might have a chance to attract Damia as he had so long wanted to do. Perhaps he was acting prematurely to call Larak in. Perhaps he could handle the Sodan mind himself.

No, Afra told himself candidly, not when you’re reduced to a limp rag after a vicarious touch. And not with the competition Sodan was providing.

*   *   *

Hey, Afra, what does a guy have to do to get your attention?
was Larak’s cheery greeting as he bounced up the Tower steps.

His energy seemed almost obscene to the weary T-3.

“Knock twice!” Afra replied, but he grinned gratefully as he extended his hand to the visitor. The vigor which Larak exuded was as much a restorative as the infectiousness of his smile. The resemblance between Larak and his sister was pronounced, even to having the Gwyn slash of white in the same position on their black-haired heads. Larak was not quite as tall as his sister, who was unusually tall, and more slightly built than his brothers. But he had
full measure of the Raven charm, and Afra found the energy to return the boy’s smile.

Hands now touching, Afra conveyed the one impression he had not included in the broadcast.

Damia’s infatuated with this peculiarly dangerous alien?
Larak murmured, surprised, and looked hard into Afra’s eyes. “Wouldn’t you know she’d have weird and exotic tastes!” He let his lips turn down sympathetically.
Why can’t she pick on the home-brewed?
He cocked his head at Afra.

Afra felt it expedient to ignore that comment. “A very dangerous alien, unfortunately. Do you remember that old scare tale about soul-eaters?”

Larak rolled his eyes wide. “You just bet I do. Damia terrorized me into starting a forest fire with that tale of hers. Wait a minute. You think this alien’s a soul-eater?” Larak was almost indignant at the notion. “Hey, Afra, that was kid stuff.”

“I can’t think of another analog. I spent no more than ten or fifteen seconds, in a light, secondary link, and I had to use gestalt to reach you at Procyon.”

“That’s not good,” Larak said. “That’s very bad. What’s wrong with Damia? Doesn’t she realize . . . No, obviously she doesn’t.” Larak slid into the second conformable couch, his eyes flickering as he considered and discarded thoughts.

“Damia mentioned the residue you two felt from Beetle artifacts. There’s something comparable to your sting on board Sodan’s vessel. And it’s not comfortable.”

“Fissionables?” Larak asked.

Afra shook his head. “It is very alien. I couldn’t define it.”

“Can Damia?”

Afra grimaced. “She’s involved in translating abstracts.”

“Those’ll be a great help if he plans to blow us up.” Larak tensed. “What has she said about us? The League?”

“From what she reports, she’s been discreet.”

“That’s a mercy.”

Afra could sense that Larak’s flippancy disguised a concern
for Damia as deep as his own. Larak had always been closest to her. “I wouldn’t mind what they discussed,” he said, “but Sodan leaves her so drained.”

“New kind of weapon—total enervation before annihilation?”

“That’s not as outrageous as you think,” Afra said grimly. “There’s a tremendous power source in the ship . . .”

“There’d have to be to push it between galaxies . . .”

“But that’s all I could sense. Beyond the public mind, I met an impenetrable wall. Granted, Damia’s much stronger than I am . . .”

“But she hasn’t tried?”

Afra frowned and, rising, began to pace restlessly back and forth in the narrow Tower.

Larak held Afra’s glance, and then sighed.

“But there’s been no overt act of aggression?”

“That depends on what you call ‘aggression.’ I believe that Sodan is subtly trying to destroy Damia in the process of this peaceful exchange of culture and information. In my lexicon, eroding her mental capability is an assault with intent to maim or kill.” He saw that remark succeeded in arousing all Larak’s natural fraternal concern and protectiveness. “I could be overreacting. I’m no precog, but there are instances in which one doesn’t need to be to guess intent. Judge for yourself when you see Damia this evening.”

Larak did not bother to shield his anger. “I will, but I’ve never seen you overreact, Afra. Apart from the danger to my sister, just how close is this Sodan to Iota Aurigae? Close enough to recognize this system as Damia’s point of origin?”

Afra managed a wry grin. “You’re a real Tower-man, Lar.”

Larak gave a quick unhumorous grin. “A Gwyn-Raven, body, blood, and brain!”

“Logically,” Afra continued, “we have to allow him the same sophistication in monitoring devices as he has in travel capability. So he’s certain to detect sufficient activity
on this planet to attract—” and Afra paused, searching for the appropriate phrase—“his attention. Since a high-tech society gobbles ores, minerals, and rare earths at phenomenal rates, it is reasonable to assume that he’s crossed to our galaxy to find new sources.”

“Are we assuming aggression where none exists?” Larak asked, playing devil’s advocate.

Afra paused. “We could be. The Beetles made their plans exceedingly clear but they might be exceptions to the rule of peaceful exploration. Only I cannot get it out of my mind that the Sodan is deliberately depleting Damia’s energy to reduce her ability to defend herself. And I’ve never had such a presentiment of danger before—not even when I was mind-merged with the Rowan-focus over Deneb.”

“If we must eradicate the threat this Sodan entity poses, I’d say it would be wiser to do it now, rather than later when he’s closer to this system,” Larak replied, pressing his lips tight against that expedient. “Should we call for naval backup?”

“Ha! Sodan’d be orbiting Aurigae before the Fleet would bestir itself to action,” Afra replied derisively.

“Especially right now,” and Larak’s grin was amused, “when they’re investigating the nibbles at Procyon’s DEW system.”