The Rowan

Whenever Deneb-cargo went off Callisto, Jeff and the Rowan exchanged kisses, and other caresses which made her glad she was alone in the Tower. It gave an unexpected fillip to intensive mental effort.

And, as he had asked, she did a quick look at some of the more unusual flotsam that came through: hull arcs, like the segments of fruit; packages of curious supplies (food?); shreds of metallic films clothing?; some frozen specimens of alien parts. She did recall the look of them as she, with the focus meld of Prime minds, disassembled them and their ships. Not at all humanoid, rather a form of beetle, with carapace or chitinous wings, with multiple legs, with joined digits. Some of the creatures which had been standing erect at their control devices were approximately two-meters long. Those in the round access tubes through the long space vehicles had been smaller and scurried about on six of their ten legs. There had been a heavily guarded central feature with immature creatures, a startling number of egg cases and the largest specimen. A generation ship? Indicative of perhaps a cross-galaxy voyage of incredible duration?

The contents certainly gave rise to incredible speculations and overwhelming relief that the Primes had been able to destroy such an alien menace. And some rather silly minor hysterics from the nervous.

Not only was there the unusual traffic to Deneb, but over the next few days, the Rowan was called upon to dispatch naval reconnaissance vessels to the perimeter of the Central Worlds' sphere of influence.

Massive amounts of equipment and personnel were shifted around in the panic following the Denebian Incident. Reidinger decided to increase the Talented complement of the main Prime Stations for the purpose of unceasing vigilance and to upgrade distant early warning beacons set beyond the perimeter. That left him short of experienced staff, and rather short on temper as a result.

"Reports of the Incident were toned down a lot," Ackerman told an exhausted Rowan at the end of that fourth chaotic day. "The public report," he added when the Rowan blinked uncomprehendingly up at him.

He decided her mind was only half here. "They decreased the size and capacity of the ships, and the armaments and potential danger."

"Considering some of the stuff that we handled, I'd say that was discreet of them," Afra remarked caustically, his fingers busily constructing a paper shape remarkably like the aliens that had been destroyed. Then he casually crumpled the origami into a wad.

Afra was exceedingly different from his sister, the gentle Goswina. And the day had exhausted her.

Me, too, Jeff said softly in her head. I've got just about enough energy to crawl into my lonely bed and remember how great it was to lie beside you. To know all through the night that you were there.

When the Rowan realized that she was grinning foolishly, "Jeff!" she said enigmatically and both men nodded understandingly.

Loftus brought in a sheaf of hard-copy sheets. "They plan to work our butts off again tomorrow, too!" He shook out the ream-long manifests of projected shipments. "And a big mother of a battleship, complete with flag admiral. Where was he when he was needed?" "D'you think he will be?" Ackerman asked, suddenly apprehensive.

Afra snorted. "With all the monitors, detectors, remotes, and junk we've had to parcel out? Highly unlikely." "Nothing like locking the barn door when the horse is gone!" Loftus said.

"What on earth do you mean by that?" the Rowan asked.

It sounded like something Siglen would come out with.

"Old saying! Procrastination is a thief! Here, Ackerman. You'd better analyze how we're going to shift all that!" I can see you now, Jeff's loving voice came softly into her mind, talking in the Tower. Why don't you go home so I can see you in your own place and fall asleep knowing where you are?

In a sort of trance, the Rowan excused herself, leaving the three men staring at the spot she had just vacated.

"I suppose we'll have to get used to her looking all starry-eyed and flicking out like that," Brian said, slightly envious.

"Has she gone to Deneb?" Loftus asked, his eyes bugging out.

"She's not quite ready for that yet, I think," Afra replied and tossed off the half-finished mug of stimulant. "I hope it's not a long time coming." As the tall Capellan went back to his workspace, he was unaccountably depressed. In no way did he resent Jeff Raven's acquisition of the Rowan. Afra had long ago buried his tentative and unrequited attraction for the quicksilver girl. He had hoped that out of sheer need she might one day have turned to him, for he adored her in his own fashion. Since the day, as a very nervous eighteen year-old, he had reported for duty at Callisto, they had shared a rapport, becoming stronger over the years, close enough so that he did not exactly envy Jeff Raven. Rather he worried for them both.

They ought somehow to have taken themselves to Deneb that first night. He had been surprised that they hadn't. And more concerned, though it was certainly none of his business, when he sensed that the union had not been consummated. If he'd been in Jeff Raven's shoes… Well, how the Denebian conducted his seduction of the Rowan was NOT the business of Afra, Capellan T-4. The Rowan showed no resentment; why should he?