The Rowan

Incoming missile! Ackerman's mental shout startled both of them.

Instantly the Rowan linked with the stationmaster and saw, through his eyes, the little-used perimeter warning screen, now beeping frantically. Rowan located and then probed out into space. The intruder, a sophisticated projectile, leaking lethal radiations, was arrowing in from behind Uranus. Guiltily she flushed, for she ought to have detected it before the screen had. There was no time to run up the idling dynamos. The missile was coming in too fast.

Deneb was certainly going to prove his peril to Reidinger!

She marveled at his audacity in spinning the ET missile into the heart system.

I want a wide open mind from everyone on this moon! The Rowan's broadcast was inescapable. Mauli! Mick! Go into action. She felt the surge of power as forty-eight Talents on Callisto, including Ackerman's ten-year-old son, enhanced by the twins, answered her demand. She picked up their energy - from the least 12 to Afra's sturdy 4 - and sent it racing out to the alien bomb. She had to wrestle for a moment with its totally unfamiliar construction and components. With the augmented capability of the merge, it was easy enough for her to deactivate the mechanism and scatter the fissionables from the warhead into Jupiter's seething mass.

She released those who had merged with her and fell back into the couch.

"How in hell did Deneb do that?" Afra asked from the chair in which he had slumped. "Reidinger won't like it!" She shook her head wearily.

"No, but it proves Deneb's problem!" Without the dynamos there had been no gestalt to act as the initial carrier wave for her effort.

Even with the help of the others - and all of them put together didn't add up to one-third the strength of another Prime - it had been a wearying exercise. She thought of Deneb - alone, without an FT amp;T station or trained personnel to assist him - doing this again, and again, and again - and her heart twisted.

Warm up the dynamos, Brian. There will probably be more of those missiles.

Afra looked up, startled.

"To illustrate the point Deneb's trying to make, Afra."

Prime Rowan of Callisto Station alerting Earth Prime Reidinger and all other Primes! Prepare for possible attack by fissionable projectiles of alien origin. Alert all space stations and patrol forces. She lost her official calm and added angrily, We've got to help Deneb now - we've got to! It's no longer an isolated aggression against an outlying colony. It's a concerted attack on our heart world!

Rowan! Before Reidinger got more than her name into her mind, she opened to him and showed the five new projectiles driving toward Callisto. For the love of little apples! Reidinger's mind radiated incredulity. What has our little man been stirring up?

Shall we find out? Rowan asked with deadly sweetness.

Reidinger transmitted impatience, fury, misery, and then shock as he gathered her intention. Your plan won't work. It's impossible. We can't merge minds to fight. All of us are too egocentric. Too unstable. We'd burn out, fighting each other.

You, me, Altair, Betelgeuse, Procyon, and Capella. We can do it.

If I can deactivate one of those hell missiles with only forty-eight minor Talents and no power for help, five Primes plus full power ought to be able to knock any sort of missile off. Then we can merge with Deneb to help him, that'll make six of us. Show me the ET who could stand up to such an assault!

Look, girl, Reidinger replied, almost pleading, we don't have his measure. We can't just MERGE - he could split us apart, or we could burn him up. We don't know him. We can't gauge a telepath of unknown ability.

You'd better catch that missile coming at you, she said calmly. I can't handle more than ten at a time and keep up a sensible conversation. She felt Reidinger's resistance to her plan weakening.

She pushed the advantage. If Deneb's been handling a planet-wide barrage, that's a very good indication of his strength. I'll handle the merge because I damned well want to. Besides, there isn't any other course open to us now, is there?

We could launch patrol squadrons.

THAT should have been done the first time he asked. It's too late now.

Their conversation was taking but brief seconds, and yet more missiles were coming in. Earth itself was under attack!

All right, Reidinger said in angry resignation, and contacted the other Primes.

No, no, no! You'll burn her out - burn her out, poor thing!

Old Siglen from Altair was babbling. Let us stick to our last we dare not expose ourselves, no, no, no! The ETs would attack us then.

Shut up, Iron pants, David said.

It's our responsibility, Siglen, you know that! We simply must!

Capella chimed in waspishly. Hit hard first, that's safest!

Siglen's right, Rowan,… Reidinger said. He could burn you out.

I'll take the chance.

Damn Deneb for starting all this! Reidinger didn't quite shield his aggravation.

We've got to do it. And now!

Tentatively at the outset, and then with stunningly increased force, the leashed power of the other FT amp;T Primes, augmented by the mechanical surge of five great station generators, siphoned into the Rowan. She grew, grew, and only dimly saw the puny ET bombardment swept aside like so many mayflies. She grew, grew until she felt herself a colossus, larger than ominous Jupiter.