The Rowan
- Автор: Маккефри Энн
- Серия: Tower and the Hive #1
- Язык: английский
- Жанр: Научная фантастика
Электронная книга - «The Rowan». Краткое содержание книги:
The kinetically gifted, trained in mind/machine gestalt, are the most valued citizens of the Nine Star League. Using mental powers alone, these few Prime Talents transport ships, cargo and people between Earth's Moon, Mars' Demos and Jupiter's Callisto.
An orphaned young girl, simply called The Rowan, is discovered to have superior telepathic potential and is trained to become Prime Talent on Callisto. After years of self-sacrificing dedication to her position, The Rowan intercepts an urgent mental call from Jeff Raven, a young Prime Talent on distant Deneb. She convinces the other Primes to merge their powers with hers to help fight off an attack by invading aliens. Her growing relationship with Jeff gives her the courage to break her status-imposed isolation, and choose the more rewarding world of love and family.
Moria was crouched in one corner, knees drawn up to her head, her arms wrapped over it, whimpering in jagged little cries. The Rowan stood in the center of the room, her face a mask of grief, of unimaginable sorrow as she stood, clutching the Purza's head, its fur shorn in hunks about her, its dismembered limbs cut into many pieces.
Some force prevented Lusena from entering and she sagged against the threshold, trying to find some way to comfort the Rowan, knowing there was none. Then, as she regained her breath after her exertions, she blinked to clear her eyes, thinking at first that sweat clouded her vision. But no, slowly the hacked pieces of the pukha were reassembling themselves in a feat of kinetic reconstruction that Lusena doubted few but a potential Prime could have managed. The Rowan knelt, placing the pukha head where the rest of its body could rejoin it. She knelt there stroking the length of the creature, crooning to it.
"Purza? Purza? Please speak to me. Tell me you're all right! Purza? Purza! Please, it's Rowan. I need you! Talk to me!" Lusena bowed her head, tears streaming down salt encrusted cheeks, knowing the magic, and the Rowan's childhood, were gone.
"I was under the distinct impression that this holiday would have brightened the child," Siglen said, rattling her necklace of thick blue beads irritably. Her heavy face was drawn down into petulant lines.
She didn't like hearing that her magnanimity in permitting the Rowan to take such an unprecedented holiday had not been a complete success.
"Unfortunately," Lusena began uncertainly, "I erred in my choice of companions. There was a serious confrontation between the Rowan and one of the girls. Up until that point, the Rowan was thoroughly enjoying the respite. My niece is at a very difficult age…" she faltered.
"A childish spat? Which results in four days of melancholic behavior?" Siglen was disgusted.
"Girls verging on puberty are so vulnerable, so easily upset. And," Lusena went on quickly, for Siglen's face was falling into a pontifical mode, "ridiculous things can sometimes get magnified all out of proportion to their true significance. The Rowan is, as you know, basically a sensible and well-balanced youngster. But…" and here Lusena faltered again. Siglen had always been contemptuous of the Rowan's dependence on the pukha. Siglen's fingers made the rhythmic rattle of impatience on the hollow beads. Lusena took a deep breath and plunged on.
"…the wanton destruction of the pukha was devastating." Siglen's eyes bulged with indignation. Her fingers gripped the necklace so hard that Lusena worried that the chain would snap.
"I told you that pukha should have been phased out long ago. Now you see what comes of ignoring my advice! I will have no more temperamental fits from the Rowan. She's to be on duty in the Tower at the usual hour tomorrow. I'll tolerate no further delinquency.
"Especially for such a specious reason. As it is, I shall have to report her dereliction to Reidinger. Primes must be responsible. Duty first! Personal considerations come a long way down the list. Now, try to imbue that in your charge. Or," and Siglen shook an ominous finger at Lusena, "you will be replaced." Shaking with outrage at the woman's insensitivity, Lusena stalked down the ramp from Siglen's Tower. She was so upset that she almost didn't hear Gerolaman's "hsst!" He looked ill-at-ease - no, conspiratorial - for there was a decidedly wicked gleam in his eyes. Mystified, she followed him to a small closet.
"Look, it isn't the pukha, Lusena, but, with a bit of luck, it'll be something to help her," the stationmaster said and flipped up the cover of a caribox.
Lusena exclaimed in amazement and a sudden spurt of hope. "A barquecat? Who did you bribe to find one? They're unobtainable!" She peered in at the mottled bundle of the curled-up cub and drew back the hand that inadvertently went to stroke it. "It's the loveliest colors," she said, admiring the pattern on the tawny fur ends and the deep creamy base that highlighted the markings.
"How did you find one so like Purza's fur? Oh dear," and Lusena dropped into anxiety again. "Maybe that wouldn't be such a good idea right now." "I thought of that aspect myself, but this was the only cub left and only because I wanted it for the Rowan would they give me the option. Of course, I have to give him back if he doesn't take to the Rowan." "Will it adapt to surface life?" Lusena asked, having to hold her hands tightly behind her in her overwhelming desire to stroke the sleeping beast. Barquecats had that effect on people.
"No fear. It's cruiser bred so it's more accustomed to gravity than most but it'll have to be sequestered in the Rowan's quarters. One, the mutation's never been cleared for Altair and two, they absolutely cannot be allowed to crossbreed. I had to swear an oath of blood to neuter him when he's six months just in case he did get out.
"He's got a clean vet-cert because the rest of the Mayotte 's litter was still in quarantine, pending dispersal. They're just weaned." "You are a real gem, Gerry. I've despaired. She just sits and looks at the pieces of Purza, tears streaming down her face. She hasn't said a word since she got back. I've even tried some pretty severe metamorphics on her which usually restore balance but they didn't dent her depression this time." "And her?" Gerolaman jerked a thumb over his shoulder in the direction of Siglen's Tower.
"Siglen wouldn't know an emotion if it bit her. She put me down smartly because the holiday was my idea." "Don't blame yourself, Lusena." "I do. I thought I was a good judge of character and compatibility. And my own niece, at that!" "Trouble is, the Rowan's not around her own age often enough." "The Rowan acted with great dignity and common sense. My niece is wretchedly spoiled, self-centered, arrogant, envious, and determined to have the last word. It was NO fault of Rowan's." Gerolaman patted Lusena's shoulder.
"Of course not." Lusena groaned, shaking her head. "And Siglen's reporting the Rowan's delinquency," and she grimaced over the word, "to Reidinger!" Gerolaman raised his eyebrows high and gave an amused snort. "That might just be a blessing in disguise, you know. Reidinger's got more sense than Siglen. Always had. That's why he's Earth Prime. You did know, didn't you, that Siglen fancied herself for the job? Well, she didn't get it and it rankles her mortal soul. Don't you fret her telling Reidinger." He gave Lusena a final pat on the back before handing her the covered barquecat box. "Try this and see. You'll know quickly enough if the critter won't accept her." He winked. "I don't think I'll need to bring it back to the Mayotte." Carrying the box with great care, Lusena hurried down the corridors to the Rowan's quarters. At the very least the Rowan would appreciate the honor she was accorded in having a chance to acquire a precious barquecat.
They were as special as pukhas, only alive and as independent as the bobcat, from which they had mutated in the century of space exploration and travel. Some say they had evolved from those early felines as far as man had evolved from the ape. And with a suitable increase in intelligence. There was a widespread notion that barquecats were telepathic but no Talent had ever had communication with them, not even those with strong empathies to animals. Barquecats were equally comfortable in free-fall or gravity. Most marked was their ability to adjust to sudden alterations. Barquecats had been known to survive space wrecks which killed all humans aboard.
Scouts or small crews insisted on having a barquecat as companion on cruises of any duration beyond the range of a Prime Station. Some likened them to the canaries ancient colliers had carried deep into shafts, for the barquecats invariably noticed pressure alterations too minute for humans, and instrumentation. They were said to be responsible for saving thousands of lives with this faculty and they could lead repairmen unerringly to the source of a leak, ping, or fracture. Traditionally, they lived on the vermin that infested every type of commissioned vessel but in fact they were the first to be fed in the galley. Their breeding was carefully monitored by their ship crews and the progeny were scrupulously registered. The placement of barquecat cubs took as much time, discussion, and power plays as ancient historical marriages between heads of state.