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.
"Frankly, I'd welcome the idea of a few days alone. Most kids are out on their own at sixteen. I can't be vacuumwrapped all my life." The Rowan had read deeply enough in one quick shot to perceive all Lusena's reservations and her dilemma over her daughter. "It isn't as if I can't keep in touch, dear Lusena. I'll behave. I'm not Moria!" "Indeed you're not!" Lusena had never forgiven her niece even if her brother remained unaware of why the holiday had been shortened by several days.
"We might as well use Camella's shuttle since it's at the airfield for our use. You'd have no delays getting there then," the Rowan continued, rapidly but neatly filling. Favor Bay took on a glamourie that it had never before Lusena's travelpak with items from her drawers. "You'll be on your way in ten minutes. Bardy can't ask for a better response than that!" "Oh dear!" Lusena's mobile face shadowed with regret.
"Nonsense, dearest friend," and the Rowan embraced her, wrapping Lusena with love, affection, and understanding. "I did monopolize you, and you know I did.
"Bardy has every right to resent me deep inside but she was generous enough never to chide me for it out loud. I needed you far more than she did. Until now. She needs you now." As the Rowan stood on the verandah, she felt the oddest exhilaration: a curious sort of release, even though Lusena had always been discreet and subtle in her care of the Rowan, so that there had never been a reason to resent the supervision. But she was alone - alone for the first time in fifteen years, since that famous miraculous escape of hers.
Not even a pukha with her. She spun on her heel and went back into the house, slapping her hand against the door, running fingers along the hall table, pinging the vase with its fresh spring blossoms, twirling into the sitting room and stroking the polished wood, the brocade of a chair, as if to establish their inanimacy and that she was the only living being in the house. She whirled in a wild pirouette and then collapsed on to the sofa, laughing at her own whimsy.
What a wonderful feeling. To be alone! To be on her own! At last.
She reached out for Lusena's mind: The poor woman was still dubious about the wisdom of leaving her charge all by herself, but she really had to respond to Bardy's appeal. The Rowan softly and gently lifted the anxiety from Lusena's mind, setting up a diversion anytime Lusena might start to worry about the Rowan who was going to thoroughly enjoy her first really true holiday from her previous regime.
Had for the Rowan. She ate only when she felt hungry, with no Lusena to remind her of "normal" mealtimes.
Especially with no Siglen encouraging her to eat this, or have more of that, or please to finish the food she was given since there were many in the world who were starving for a taste of such magnificent cuisine. By the time she felt any hunger, she was ravenous indeed and took one of the cycles down to the main town, following her nose to the best of the many smells wafting about on the light spring breeze.
She parked the cycle in the rack outside a charcoal shop and glanced through the handprinted menu hanging from the ceiling. The smell of roasting fish tantalized her so she took her place beside the other patron in the grill shop. A second discreet look at his profile, and a light touch at his mind, and she recognized Turian, their captain and guide on that first Favor Bay excursion.
"What d'they do best here? It all smells so good," she asked.
"I'm having the redfish steak sandwich," he said, smiling down at her. "Pretty little thing," his mind was saying, "can't be a student as it's not holidays yet. A convalescent? Looks tired. Lovely eyes."
The Rowan wasn't sure that she was pleased or annoyed by the fact that he didn't recognize her. Well, he must have hundreds of clients in a single summer. Why would he recall one adolescent girl?
"Are they all redfish?" she asked.
"No, but that's the freshest," Turian replied. "I saw it unloaded from the dock a half hour ago." "Then that's for me." So when the attendant asked her choice, she pointed and had a hard time not listening in on Turian's stream of consciousness. He was mentally reviewing a list of things he had to do to get his ship back into commission and wondering if he had enough credit to do the jobs properly or where he could stint without risking the safety of his clients or his ship. He was hungry after a morning scrubbing the winter's grime from the hull and the aroma was increasing the saliva in his mouth. Or was it the proximity of the pretty girl? She was enough to make any man's mouth water. A little on the thin side: with that tan, she'd been here a few days at least. Strange! Her face was oddly familiar. No. He had to be mistaken: he'd never seen her here in Favor Bay before.
"D'you come from around here?" he asked, to pass the time while his fishsteak was cooking.
"No. From Port."
"On holiday?" "Yes, I had to take it early this year. Office schedules rarely give juniors a break." That should answer his questions. "And you?" "I'm getting my ship ready for the summer." "Oh, what sort of ship do you own?" Might as well start afresh with him.
That way he was less likely to remember the details of the earlier acquaintanceship - and how old she really was.
He grinned. "Tour the sea gardens! Swim with the denizens of the Deep! That sort of thing." "If I earn enough in the summer, I can sail all winter where I choose to go," was his silent addition.
"Always in Favor Bay?" She didn't recall seeing him last year, not that she'd been looking for him, or had revisited the sea gardens.
"Not always. Altair has some splendid harbors. I move around a lot but this is a good spot in the summer." The attendant set their dishes on the counter and was asking for payment and, as the Rowan dug into the pockets of her light jacket, she flushed with embarrassment as her fingers touched only three small credit pieces.
How could she have been so stupid? Always she'd had Lusena to remind her. On her first solo outing, she forgot the most basic requirement. She pulled out what she had, an inadequate sum for the meal.
"Ooops!" She gave the attendant and Turian an apologetic grin and thought hard as to where in the house she'd left her purse. She could 'port enough into the pocket of her shorts.
"Here! Let me," said Turian, smiling. "It beats eating by myself and she's not on the take or make, not this one."
The Rowan's relieved smile was more for his charitable thoughts than the deed of paying for her meal.
"I insist you allow me to pay you back," she said as he motioned toward an empty spot on the deck overlooking the bay. "I left my credits at home. True holiday mindlessness." "Tell you what. I'll spot you the sandwich for a couple of hours of not so hard labor. If your folks won't object." "It's my holiday," she said. "But surely there're enough…" she gestured to the men and women walking up and down the street outside.
"Everyone's busy getting their own places in order. Mainly I need a couple of extra hands and someone who can take simple instructions." His grin told her she more than qualified. "I'll teach you how to rig sail. A skill guaranteed to be useful - sometime in your life again!" The Rowan knew very well that he intended no more than that. Turian was still, as he had been four years before, a genuine and honest man.
"Done! A spot of hard work'd do me good and be a nice change from sitting on my duff in an office. Where do I report to work in the morning, sir?" And she flicked her hand in a nautical type salute.
"Cender's Boat Yard. Down there! Mine's the sloop rigged fifteen meter with the blue hull." Grinning, she raised her sandwich and bit into the crusty bread and hot flaky fish. The piquant sauce she'd slathered on the fish flowed down her chin. She cleared the overflow with a finger and then licked it. Turian was doing the same thing and his grin was one of camaraderie.