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.
The Rowan smeared the tears off her cheeks with both hands. "I appreciate it, Gerry, but there's no need. I'll be there as soon as I can close up this place." She cut the line before he could protest.
She ignored the comunit while she gathered up her belongings, showered and dressed, phoned the caretaker that she was vacating. From the porch she could make out the Miraki, moored to the wharf. She had that memory at least!
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 municipal 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 reassuring 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.