Damia's Children Page 3

  Especially if she has to help us shift big-daddy drone pods, and Damia tried to sound facetious. Afra knew she was not and tightened his arms about her in appreciation of the attempt.

  The daughter of the girl who overwhelmed Sodan will not fail in whatever she is required to do.

  Damia shivered in recollection of her battle with the Sodan mind which had been dangerous to her, fatal to her beloved younger brother, Larak, and had come very close to destroying the other Talents in that focus. The Hive menace was even more dangerous to the Allies.

  “Damia,” Afra said aloud, releasing her enough to tip her head up so she made eye contact, “count—if you can—just how many more Talents are available now than there were thirty-eight years ago? Between your brothers and sister, and David of Betelgeuse, Mauli and Mick, Torshan and Saggoner. Why, the uncles, aunts, and second cousins on Deneb alone constitute a brigade!”

  Damia allowed herself to be comforted because she couldn’t refute Afra’s logic. And definitely there was safety in the numbers of Talented minds that could be counted in Federated Telepathy and Teleportation alone: not to mention the higher Talents in every other occupation that made use of psionic abilities. Only how to bring such a mental weapon against a far distant enemy homeworld? As clever and powerful as a massed mind focus of Talent had proved itself, there were different parameters now that did not favor such use of Talent.

  “Consider also that our Allies have certainly not been idle in the past twenty-five years, always with the goal of defeating the Hive ships.”

  “But they died to defeat a Hiver!”

  “Yes, they did die, but that was before we Dreamed!”

  Damia felt Afra’s conviction. Was it just a masculine certitude? Her father’s mind had been colored with it as well! Damia wondered if she should ask her mother what she felt. No, she decided, she should solve this confusion within herself. And soon! Her doubts must not impinge on her children’s confidence and courage. They might all need those soon enough.

  “Yes,” she said aloud, looking calmly into her mate’s yellow eyes, sparkling with purpose, “that was before we Dreamed Mrdini.”

  CHAPTER

  TWO

  THE very next day Aurigaen Tower accepted a message, containing an immense order for tonnes of metal ore from the Allied Commands. Afra forwarded it to the Miners Main Office and sat back, waiting for the explosion.

  Within minutes of receiving the message, Segrazlin, Master Miner and head of the various mining organizations on Aurigae, requested an urgent meeting with the Prime to discuss transportation requirements. His manner was a combination of gratification for the quantities ordered and astonishment and concern for the delivery dates expected, trepidation over how to approach the Prime on the matter of the tonnage to be shifted, all mingled with intense curiosity as to the finished form of such massive quantities of metal.

  Damia grinned at his promptness and told him he could come along right then, as the morning’s traffic had been despatched.

  Segrazlin arrived with his personal assistant and the owners of the major mines to be involved.

  “All very well to want this kind of delivery, Prime,” Segrazlin said, nervously folding and unfolding the message sheet, “but one, we don’t have enough miners, even working flat out, to supply the ores within the delivery frame and two, there aren’t enough small and medium carriers to deliver half of what’s required. Now, we don’t want to lose such a contract, but first off, we’ll need more miners.” He was hedging around asking her to transport the big daddy drone containers. “And my principals,” at which point the five owners nodded their heads, “want to be sure that the metal’s being properly used.”

  “Ah,” Afra said, broadcasting reassurance, “I asked Earth Prime that myself. Some new Constellation class vessel has been designed, long journey capability, and enough for a squadron has been authorized. Replacing some of the older space vessels. And not before time, I understand. FT&T may cut down on the normal wear and tear of space vehicles, but the problem of metal fatigue is still vexing.”

  Damia sent a mental smirk to her husband for that smooth explanation.

  “There is also the happy fact that the Tower is now in a position to transport bigger drones,” Damia went on, “a good training exercise for our oldest children. Having standardized the size and shapes of most containers, any Prime, given the mass within, can shift it anywhere within the Alliance. It’s new and unfamiliar objects that cause problems, because they have to be seen and preferably touched by a Prime before ’portation can be guaranteed. However, we can shift most anything you need to send because your drones are standard. As you know, both Laria and Thian are T-1’s . . .”

  “But are they old enough?” Segrazlin asked, his eyes protruding in surprise. Having expected resistance, he’d lost his prepared stance.

  “They are old enough and will be under our guidance, but their assistance will make it possible to lift such weight. Linkage is good training for their future duties.” Damia inclined her head graciously.

  “That still leaves us with the worst problem, Prime,” one of the mine owners said, clearing his throat, and glancing at his colleagues for reassurance. They nodded their heads and murmured agreement. “Enough workers.”

  “I thought your work force was up to strength, Yugin,” Damia said, frowning in well-practiced surprise.

  Yugin snorted. “For normal production, yes, but the last quota of immigrants haven’t been trained for deep seam work and that’s what we’d need. Also more qualified, and experienced, engineers. We’ll have to open more shafts . . .” He trailed off.

  “We can’t supply those prodigious quantities,” Mexalgo said, “from existing facilities.”

  “Would you accept more ’Dinis?” Afra asked.

  Mexalgo looked dubious but the others brightened considerably.

  “Mex, you treat ’em right, they do you proud,” Yugin said. “My ’Dinis work like they grew up digging ore.”

  “Workers aren’t the main problem, Yugin,” Mexalgo said. “Engineers with the pit experience if we’re starting new seams is what we really lack.”

  “Would you accept ’Dini engineers?”

  Mexalgo made a grimace. “I would if I could understand them.”

  “What’s to understand?” Segrazlin asked. “You show ’em where the lode is, give ’em the materials they need, and they dig. They’re as well trained, by their standards, as any of our men, and besides,” a grin broke across Segrazlin’s craggy features, “they’re built better for underground work!”

  “Aye, that’s a fact,” Mexalgo said, though reluctantly. “But how can we be sure, with those little holidays of theirs, that we’ll have a work force all the time? We can’t make these shipments with part-time help.”

  “The Mrdinis don’t all hibernate at the same time,” Damia said. “The hibernation period apparently depends on the continent of origin. The ’Dinis presently on Aurigae all happen to come from the northern Great continent. Or so Fok told me. Should I inquire, on your behalf, if additional ’Dini engineers and workers are available and would be willing to come to Aurigae to work?”

  The four miners conferred briefly by nods, hand, and head gestures.

  “Yes, Prime, we would appreciate your inquiring on our behalf.”

  “You will of course pay according to experience and training?” Afra asked.

  “Of course,” Segrazlin said, slightly indignant. “And provide the sort of quarters, and hibernation facilities, that they prefer. We haven’t had any complaints from ’em yet.”

  That was true enough because Damia and Afra made certain that the specifications given them by the ’Dinis were carried out.

  “I’d like to see the engineering qualifications, though,” Mexalgo said, always cautious. “In translation.”

  “Of course,” Afra replied with a smile. “Oddly enough translating scientific data is easier than, say, literature or art forms.”

  Mexalgo snif
fed.

  “Earth Prime agrees to forward your request to Clarf Tower,” Damia said, having spoken to her father during Afra’s part of the conversation. “He’ll forward the answer within the current day.”

  What Jeff Raven had told his daughter was that, not only were the ’Dinis willing, they were eager. Their own mines were nearly depleted, even those on their colony worlds, and miners, pit men as well as engineers, were as desperate to find work as to supply their homeworld with the commodities it needed.

  When Segrazlin and the mine owners had left, Damia was not so sedate that she didn’t give a little dance of jubilation for the success of the interview. There had been some criticism—expressed through Flk and Trp to Damia and Afra—that ’Dinis were disappointed that their out-world workers were not given the positions of authority that their experience and training should qualify them for. What the mining community didn’t realize was that there were fully trained and professionally able engineers among the ’Dini workers already on Aurigae. Now, with such massive orders, was the chance the ’Dinis had been hoping for to show their true colors. The ’Dinis had been very patient and now would have the opportunity they had long deserved. Damia and Afra had reason to rejoice.

  As soon as the miners had boarded their vehicles to return to Aurigae City, Afra went in search of Flk and Trp to inform them of the good news. They clacked, clicked, and whistled their joy and then departed toward the city, to spread the news.

  “I think we must insist that some of the new pits be ’Dini managed and run,” Afra said.

  “We had to go slow or jeopardize the integration,” Damia said.

  “I know, I know. We can be extremely grateful for ’Dini patience.”

  Damia grinned up at her lover. “We should really learn more from them. Flk said that it took them nearly ten generations to implant the philosophy of patience in the ’Dini temperament.”

  It was again fortunate that ’Dinis were difficult to identify, for when the first shipment of new workers arrived, the ’Dini engineers amazed the mine owners by their grasp of the mining methods currently in use on Aurigae and their incredible dexterity with human-designed equipment. They had also brought tools of their own, including large borers to be assembled. The first consultation to organize ’Dini-managed pits erased any reluctance or hesitation the mine owners, and their engineers, might have had about ’Dini professionalism.

  “I was impressed,” Mexalgo told Damia, “very impressed. They clicked and clacked when we showed them where we’d located the new lodes, and the next thing they had adit, shafts, and quotas all drawn out for us, and the quantities of materials they’d need for shoring, what track, carts, cranes, stuff they evidently knew they didn’t have to bring. They’ve asked permission to send for more of their own mining equipment and I can’t fault ’em on that. Showed us schematics of some of the heavy stuff they use and I have to say it looks very efficient. Then, too, they’ll be handier with their own mechanicals but they sure understood fast.” He kept shaking his head. “Now,” he added quickly, “I always knew the critters were smart. I just didn’t realize how smart.”

  Damia and Afra managed to respond appropriately.

  Wouldn’t he have a fit if he knew the “new” ’Dini engineers had been working in his mines for the past sixteen years! Damia said, her mental tone rocking with laughter at the deceptions.

  Later. We’ll confess to Mexalgo later, Afra promised.

  The ’Dinis were also impressed by the quality of accommodation supplied by the mine owners, including a ’Dini-staffed medical facility. That had been an extra which Segrazlin had insisted on providing.

  “You house and feed a man and his family decently,” the miners’ rep said, “and you make pits as safe as possible, but you damn well better have emergency facilities available, too. Man works better because he knows he’s valued. Same has to apply to ’Dinis. They got feelings, too.”

  During the settling-in period, Laria, Thian, and even Rojer did translating duty. Zara, though only nine, wanted to have some part in the family activity and thought of donating the young eggs from her slither’s latest lay to the new arrivals.

  “To make ’em feel at home,” she’d said very solemnly as she signed to Tip and Huf, explaining her gift. All the Raven-Lyon ’Dinis took turns expressing how grateful they were for her generosity. They had slither nestlings, too, and so an expedition was planned.

  “I think this ought to come from the young of Humans to the young of Mrdini, Laria,” Damia said, “so you can drive—carefully—” and Damia reinforced that caution mentally—“and make it an outing.”

  She’s fully competent to drive that sort of sled, Damia, Afra told his wife when she began to regret her suggestion. You’ve driven with her enough to know she’s well able. And we’ve got to let her have some experience on her own. Not that she’s exactly on her own right now.

  I know, I know, Affie, Damia said, unable to suppress all her maternal agitation, despite his logical reassurances. It’s just that . . .

  I trust her and I’ll be with her every kilometer of the way.

  If you really trusted her, you wouldn’t be with her all the way, Damia added, darkly accusatory.

  Afra laughed and ruffled her hair as they watched Laria load her passengers into the big sled. The girl kept looking over her shoulder at her parents.

  See? She expects you to renege, Damia. Smile, wave, encourage her!

  She doesn’t really need encouragement, Damia replied, still dour, but she smiled and waved vigorously. She held her breath as the sled rose without a hitch on its air cushion. Laria turned it competently and Damia began to relax a little. Especially when Afra chuckled teasingly in her ear.

  We can’t stand here watching, Afra added and gently propelled her back toward the Tower. And don’t peek! At that admonition, Damia had to laugh because he had caught her tendril of thought reaching out to maintain a very light contact with Laria’s mind. We’ve got those first drones to despatch and I want your entire attention on that transfer, my little love!

  Afra was right about keeping her mind on the work at hand, Damia knew. Not the big daddies yet but some very heavy mothers. The mining industry was determined to deliver on time and this first shipment was an earnest of that intention.

  The generators were already at peak when Aurigaen Prime and her T-2 mate took their Tower positions. Damia contacted David of Betelgeuse who gave her a cheerful greeting.

  I understand we’re back to big daddies soon in this rearmament, David said.

  Is it advisable, Damia replied cautiously, to bandy about such terms?

  Who’d be able to hear us, Damia?

  Here you are then, David! With the skill and ease of long practice, Damia caught the generators at peak and teleported the ore drones from the mineyards directly to David who would shift them to the refinery awaiting the metal.

  Motherhood certainly hasn’t slowed you down, has it?

  Why should it?

  Catch you later!

  Catch, you’d better! was Damia’s response and then Keylarion sent her up an urgent incoming load.

  In the rhythm of work, Damia forgot about her daughter’s first major driving experience.

  * * *

  Laria found the drive exhilarating, only minimally conscious of her passengers, or even her brother who shared the front seat.

  It was one thing to teleport herself, which she had done often enough to make it routine, and quite another to be driving others in a mechanical apparatus: even if she knew all Tower vehicles were maintained at top efficiency. The sled was dead easy to manage with a yoke for steering and pedals for speed and braking. Even if the power, for some unforeseen reason, went off and the air cushion failed, her reflexes were fast enough to switch to kinetic mode and avoid a hard or abrupt landing. Her father had drilled her on such emergency measures—even before he had allowed her any solo time in one of the smaller sleds.

  The most important aspect was that neit
her of her parents were “peeking.” She, on the other hand, could tell they were both involved in Tower work. They really were allowing her to exercise independent action. Which she felt to be appropriate since she was so nearly sixteen, and then would be considered “of age.”

  The ’Dini village had been constructed on the far side of the city, where the land sloped up to the western plateau. It had been a consolidated effort: Flk and Trp had overseen the project, with some assistance from their Human colleagues and more from the ’Dini professionals in various skills. Once the materials had been assembled, the entire population of Aurigae City had devoted three days to the building of the village, complete with hibernatory, medical and recreational facilities from the ’Dini-originated designs. The plans had drawn admiring support from the Human construction crew, who had passed on their enthusiasm to the whole community. The result was a village of high standard and every comfort that ’Dinis would find on their home worlds.

  Laria had a little flurry of nerves as she approached the village vehicle park because ’Dinis were flitting about in the air, using the personal flying equipment they had brought with them, but in a totally random fashion that didn’t appear to follow any traffic pattern. Laria was afraid that she might inadvertently cause an accident. Tip clicked encouragingly at her while Huf slid open a window and started crackling at the nearby fliers who then did make way for the sled. Laria landed with no further obstacles.

  “Those belts are great, Lar,” Thian exclaimed, craning his neck to watch the rapid maneuvers of the airborne. “D’you think we could get some?”

  “When we can teleport anywhere we want to?” asked Laria in amazement.

  “Teleporting’s not the same thing, Lar,” Thian replied wistfully and ignored his sister’s wry snort. “I like mechanical things,” he added defensively.

  Which his sister knew was very true. Thian was always taking things apart and putting them laboriously back together. Sometimes not so laboriously, if he knew the equipment well enough to use kinesis in reassembly. Their father encouraged the activity though their mother had always appeared skeptical.