'You're here to tell me they've got the mental shielding prepared?' Afra asked suavely as he passed a cup of soothing tea to the greying Ackerman.

Ackerman looked startled. 'No, I was saving that for tomorrow,' he allowed with a groan. 'Jeff Raven asked me to drop by.' 'Whatever for?' 'Well, he should be-' The door chime interrupted him.

Jeff Raven apologized profusely to the two men for such a late night meeting. 'It's the only time I can be sure she isn't listening in.

'Why?' Afra asked carefully.

Jeff raised an eyebrow. 'Well, I've something to ask you and it's difficult to leave her what with the way she's been acting lately.

She's asleep right now with Jeran on her lap.' 'So?' Afra refused to be drawn. 'The way she's been acting and her sleepiness are perfectly normal, you know.' Jeff gave Afra a second keen glance. 'I wasn't talking about. -- Oh, no! It's much too soon.

'That isn't why you're here?' Afra asked, annoyed with himself for assuming the reason for Jeff's visit.

'Not exactly but I'll take the bad with good. Well, is she or isn't she? And cut that guff about there being some things that are announced privately!' 'Well --- But Afra felt Jeff reach for the truth.

'One day I'm going to throttle my mother.' 'Isthia?' Brian asked, apprehensively for he respected the woman and knew that Jeff did.

'My mother's been filling my wife with some nonsense about sibling bonding. It was why Mother insisted on freshening every year.' Jeff did not approve of either theory or practice. 'Is it a boy or girl, Afra?' 'A girl.' 'So she figured out how to achieve that, too?' Conflicting emotions of exasperation and respect crossed Jeff's mobile face. Then his expression altered to worry. 'What I came to discuss with you is a very private 'path I had from my mother. She wants me to come to Deneb to check out an unusual happening. She thought she felt something, a presence.

'Wasn't the Rowan fretting about some malign presence just before she gave birth to Jeran?' Afra enquired.

Jeff nodded. 'She, my mother and Elizara. Mother thinks she's experienced the same phenomenon again.' Jeff shook his head. 'I got no glimmer.' 'How can we help?' Brian asked.

'I don't know,' Jeff replied worriedly. 'But I felt I'd better put you on the alert. My mother's not one to cry "wolf" even if she hasn't fine-tuned her Talent yet. Only women on Deneb have caught the trace of whatever it is.

Considering the Rowan's sensitivity, she might just get another jolt from it. That's why Isthia warned me. To let me know. We all know that that woman of mine can go off half-cocked from time to time and pregnant women are notorious for it.' The other two men exchanged looks so pained that Jeff Raven laughed. 'Just restrain her from doing something impetuous right now - especially now - but I've got to get back to work.' 'You'll be on Earth, won't you?' Ackerman wondered.

'Maybe. It's hard to tell. I've been doing a lot of hopping about in my role as their apparent.' He looked gratefully at the Capellan. 'It was most shrewd of you to have me work with Gollee Gren before this was announced, we make a great team.' Ackerman nodded knowledgeably. 'He doesn't talk much but he hears a lot, this Capellan Lyon of ours.' Jeff slapped his knees and rose from the couch. 'So, do I have your word?' io6

'Certainly,' Ackerman said affably, rising also.

Afra was more hesitant. 'There are some secrets best left with their owners.

Jeff inclined his head in respect of the sentiment. 'I'll trust your judgement, Afra.' Jeff's presentiment was accurate. Barely a week had passed before the Rowan presented herself to her second-in command and the stationmaster, requiring teleportage to Deneb.

Ackerman took the lead. 'Now, look, Rowan, Mauli will do anything you ask but I'm damned if Afra and I will take the responsibility for you two, and Jeran, baring off to Deneb without at least checking with Jeff.' Despite the Rowan's threats, the two were adamant that she check with her husband first. In a huff the Rowan did so. Brian Ackerman wondered if he'd been set up for a quick game of 'good cop, bad cop' when Raven, dutifully informed, acceded to her request. He caught a hint of amusement beneath the Capellan's cool exterior.

'Why'd she take Mauli and not Mick as well?' Brian grumbled as the generators wound down from the kick they had imparted to push the Rowan and crew out to Deneb.

'Mauli's female, Afra said, adding when Brian almost snarled at him, 'remember that Jeff said the trace Isthia heard was only audible to women. And it may well be that Mauli's unique echo ability will give the Rowan greater range in hearing whatever it is that's traceable.' 'A sex-linked calling?' Ackerman was dubious.

'It is possible,' Afra replied, adding subliminal images of maternal instincts.

'Like Jeff said, Isthia doesn't call "wolf".' Brian wasn't too happy.

Afra shook his head. 'No. I'd be happier if it was a wolf.' He turned away, heading off toward his quarters.

'Where are you going?' Ackerman wanted to know.

'To rest,' Afra called over his shoulder. 'I rather think we'll need it.' He was right. The next day the Rowan was back but Jeff Raven was off cajoling and collecting Fleet scouts to assess the threat that the Rowan, Mauli and the other sensitive women on the planet had 'heard' approaching Deneb. Jeff, risking his life in a little scout vessel, made a visual contact with the alien spaceship. That was sufficient for the Rowan to put Callisto Station on Yellow Alert. With his urging and the support of Mick and Brian Ackerman, Afra unconditionally informed the Rowan that he would be watching and listening if she would take a much needed rest.

Several hours later, Jeff Raven's explosive mental WOW!

went through the station like a bolt of lightning. Afra and Ackerman discreetly listened in on the ensuing conversation with the Rowan who had been roused by the cry. Jeff could now report that what the Rowan had named 'Leviathan' - the huge and very alien ship carved out of an immense asteroid - was on direct course to Deneb and that the intent of its 'Many' mind was nothing less than the conquest of Deneb VIII and perhaps as much as the destruction of the human species altogether.

Afra interjected a comment once in the telepathic conversation, not only to make a well-intentioned point but also to assure himself that he could 'reach' Jeff at that distance.

The Rowan quite rightly insisted on going out to the threatened planet where she could focus and merge all local Talents should such a measure be needed. Afra left unspoken his concerns for Jeran; such a psychic storm would have untold ill-effects on the young mind. The Rowan apparently had no fear for herself at all. Afra need not have worried: Reidinger absolutely prohibited it, reminding the Rowan of the dangers, pointing out that her quarters were the only ones currently shielded against psionic backlash (Brian had managed that without even telling Afra). So Afra exercised his right to be in loco parentis for Jeran much sooner than he ever expected to.

Young though Jeran was, his mind responded to Afra's and he was quite content to sit in the Capellan's lap watching origami birds and fish and animals appear.

When Jeran advanced from clapping and laughing with delight to reaching out with unskilful grasp to gain possession of the fragile creations, Afra patiently taught him how to use just his forefinger and thumb to hold the origami. And when Jeran fell asleep in his arms, Afra found that trustfulness particularly appealing. He regretted having to transfer the soft warm body to its crib.

The stress which the rest of the Tower personnel had so skilfully controlled with the Rowan present rose significantly as they allowed their concern over the severity of the onslaught to leak into the open.

A tray containing cups of steaming liquid appeared in the Control Room. Afra sniffed enquiringly and smelled only the best of coffees and teas, superior in quality and freshness to any available on the station.

Compliments of Luciano! Gollee Gren said, a chuckle of delight at his surprise in his 'pathing. As long as I can and you need, there'll be non-stop refreshments at Callisto Station!

The broad band statement was answered from everyone on the station with a welling of profound gratitude.

The refreshments were devoured and Gren had to make replenishments twelve times during the course of the vigil as this time Callisto, Earth, Betelgeuse, Altair, Procyon and Capella all stood ready to support beleaguered Deneb.

Reidinger's orders came up electronically at light speed rather than instantaneously via telepathy. Afra discerned why as soon as he read them. He approved of Reidinger's plan but it was dangerous to split the Talented forces in the path of the enemy. It was a gamble.

Afra worked diligently to ensure that the staff of Callisto Station was properly briefed and rested. Even so, the tension built acutely as the events around Deneb were relayed throughout the Nine Star League.

'Hey, that thing has slowed.' Jeff's voice, relayed telepathically, was linked over the station's commsystem. It's going to go into orbit around Deneb !' 'Why?' That was the voice of Isthia Raven, being echoed again by the comm telepath. 'I will not believe its intentions are pacific!' Afra heartily agreed. The Leviathan had passed through ten Welcome & Identify beacons, breached the mine field laid out beyond Deneb's heliopause and sent out destroyers to engage the Fleet.

'No, certainly not in that orbit, was Jeff Raven's droll response.

'Just far enough away for its missiles to be effective and too far for any retaliation from the ground - if we had any missiles of any kind.

Ruddy bitches are going to pound the hell out of us again!' No, they're not! Everyone in the Control Room started when Reidinger's emphatic tones burst forth. Angharad Gwin-Raven, the A focus is yours.

Gather it! Jeff Raven, collect the B focus. Prepare!

Afra! The mental 'voice' of Jeff Raven contacted him with a firm grip as he contacted the male minds that were his strike force. The Rowan would be gathering every female Talent in her focus.

Here, Afra responded calmly, letting 'go' of his mind at Jeff's touch.

Good! Raven returned with a sense of relief. I cannot get ''I Gren to respond at this distance. Jeff's voice held a note of tension in it.

Don't worry, Afra hastily assured him and simultaneously sent out mental alerts to Gren and Ackerman who were standing by. We've built a pyramid, with you at the apex.

Slowly at first, then with increasing speed, Afra felt the lesser Talents of the solar system aligning themselves behind himself, Gollee and Ackerman. He was aware of a mental engorgement, passing through him to Jeff, as if he himself had swelled to the size of a small moon.

Callisto and Earth are with you, Afra sent, passing forward a mental baton which was the combined will of all the male Talents that Earth, Callisto and all the planets of the solar system could muster.

Betelgeuse joins the Prime.

Procyon is on line.

Capellan men send greetings and are ready for the merge.

Altair here.

And far out at Deneb, Jeff Raven found himself the centre of a maelstrom of power. The timing was perfect, for as the Rowan-focus had finished pulverizing the minds of the 'Many', it was time for the Raven-focus to shove Leviathan to its doom.

NOW! Jeff Raven called and every kinetic male Talent was united in full gestalt with all available generators in the Nine Star League to divert Leviathan to a new trajectory straight to the huge star that was hot Deneb.

That's what we should have done with the first attackers, the Raven-merge said.

We did warn them! The Rowan-merge replied.

And then, job completed, energies spent, the two foci of massed minds fell apart to their constituent pieces.

Collectively the personnel at Callisto Station gave an exhausted groan, many falling over at their posts, sapped of all energy. The generators, suddenly freed of their load, whirled up to over speed and circuit breakers tripped them out.

Jeff Afra managed to find enough energy to call. He was not sure he heard a reply, like a man shouting across a windy field. Reidinger, the generators have all dropped out. We're all shagged here, but nothing that a day's rest won't cure.

I'll tell him, Gollee Gren sent back with overtones of a yawn.

'Keerist! I don't want to do that again!' Brian Ackerman swore.

Afra toggled the all-call on the station commsystem.

'Get to bed, people, rest. We're shutting down for the next twenty-four hours. Maintenance crew, work it out so that the generators are ready to go on-line by then.' Brian looked over at him and grinned. 'Afra Lyon!

I think that's the first time you've ever made a command decision!' Afra was too tired to respond.

The Defence of the Denebian Penetration, as that act of alien aggression came to be called in the popular press, was the last act of FT&T under the auspices of Peter Reidinger.

The stress had been almost too much for him and Jeff Raven's stellar performance had opened any door that had previously remained closed to the Denebian's good nature and steady charm.

'Not,' Reidinger growled, 'that I won't keep an eye on you!' That problem, however, was not the least one to be considered with the successful defence. The one that concerned Afra the most was one that caused him considerable anxiety because he didn't know if he was misinterpreting some very odd remarks Jeran was making. And it was some weeks before he finally figured out where the toddler's observations came from and arranged to meet with Raven to discuss it.

'You're tense and your shields are wobbly,' Jeff said as soon as he met Afra in his office - once Reidinger's lair on Earth. 'What is wrong?' 'It's your daughter.' Jeff's eyes widened. Afra went on quickly, 'With all the energies flowing through the Rowan during the Defence, I think your daughter has been affected.' 'How bad?' Jeff asked, face gone pale.

'Oh, not bad!' Afra replied, sounding very positive. 'It's just just that I've heard Jeran talking to her.

'Already?' Jeff was astonished. He sent a quick tight band to his mother.

Yes, was Isthia's considered opinion, I'd say Afra is right.

I wasn't too sure of it when Angharad was still on Deneb but if Afra's noticed the phenomenon, I accept his opinion. How is it manifested?

On rather an infantile level, Afra said wryly, but there is a mental contact between the two children. Jeran doesn't quite understand what's fretting her but he knows she's not happy 'in there'.

He doesn't know how to answer. How could he?

Afra added.

Jeff was thoughtful. The baby's reacting to the stress the Rowan felt? So we have to tell him what to tell her, carefully censored for a foetal mind? Afra nodded.

I can see why you didn't want to upset Angharad. She exhausted most of her reserves in the Merge. I wouldn't want her stressed right now.

Jeff's grin was rueful. 'Yes, it could be disconcerting to have your toddler suddenly tell you that your daughter's unhappy where she is.

'I have a suggestion,' Afra went on, 'which I've already discussed with Elizara as the Rowan's obstetrical adviser.

Jeran's merely repeating the baby's anxiety. Let's have him "4

make a physical contact. At a moment when the Rowan is distracted and won't either inadvertently curb the link or physically prevent it.' It should work, Isthia remarked when he had finished.

Though I've never heard of a sibling talking to a foetus. Could we please have Elizara in on this conference?

When the practitioner joined them, she suggested that while foetuses were not normally aware at this stage of gestation, she'd rule nothing out in the case of Angharad Gwyn-Raven.

There was a tremendous amount of raw power coursing through the Rowan's mind, strong as that is, Elizara said thoughtfully. After all, I was part of it. I didn't think of such a side-effect but there certainly could be a leakage into the physical. An unborn child would assuredly be vulnerable in this trimester and could become charged.

Isthia's tone reflected her concern. I feel that Afra's suggestion should be implemented as soon as possible and, preferably, without Angharad's knowledge.

Indeed, especially without her awareness, Elizara agreed.

'It might not be a bad time for an official acknowledgement of your union,' Afra suggested subtly.

'Official?' Jeff made a face.

Yes, Jeff Raven! Marry the girl! Isthia shot back across the stars.

It hardly seems necessary to go through an official acknowledgement at this late date, Mother!

To you but not to her. The force of Isthia's reply rocked Jeff back in his seat. He turned to Afra, a slow grin forming. 'Still willing to be best man?' Jeff wanted Deneb, Reidinger wanted Earth and the Rowan got Callisto as the site of the wedding. Jeff had to give in to the political overtones of this, the first union of two Primes.

'Much though I hate it, it's a great chance to cement certain alliances firmly with the Gwyn-Raven dynasty' Reidinger had fought bitterly to have the brief ceremony held on Earth. And, indeed, the Rowan was sorely tempted. But that would have allowed FT&T too free a hand with invitations, whereas limiting guests to space available in the Tower Compound restricted the numbers to a manageable quantity.

She also didn't want just anyone 'porting in on them on what ought to be a private and personal occasion. Fortunately, Rowan had more cooperation than she expected. It took the best efforts of Jeff, Isthia, Afra, and Elizara to soothe Reidinger's vociferous protests.

Elizara might have had a private word with her great-grandfather because, suddenly, he subsided in his efforts to get the Rowan to Earth. Afra told the Rowan that it was only because he had promised Reidinger that every angle of the ceremony would be taped 'I know it doesn't matter on Earth,' Isthia had said as a final argument, 'but some purists might fault a bride who is not only pregnant but has a child old enough to be ring-bearer.

Afra instantly assumed the task of instructing the 'ringbearer' With a gentle but firm pressure, he also told Jeran that he could reassure his sister and how to send such a mental message.

'You tell her that she's quite safe now, and that you'll protect her, too.' With brows knitted in concentration, Jeran repeated that message, taking some comfort in it himself Like I take care of the origami? he asked. Afra had hunkered down to his level so child and man were nearly on the same level.

'As gently as you take care of the origami,' Afra said, and reinforced that message mentally. Jeran's brow cleared and he beamed at Afra, his mind as tranquil as it was determined to perform his two tasks perfectly.

The ceremony was simple but poignant. Because the 'old man' Reidinger - could not be present to give her away, Gollee Gren, as his representative, lent his physical presence while Reidinger did the talking.

'As usual,' Gollee had said with a malicious smile.

Reidinger might not have been there in person but his inescapable mental presence was felt by all who were.

Mauli, Elizara, Rakella, Besseva, Torshan and Captain Lodjyn of the scout that had carried Jeff on his close reconnoitre of the Leviathan, all were happy to be the Rowan '5

attendant-witnesses. Afra felt quite nervous in his place of honour as groom's man and he had a right to be. He had assiduously studied and performed all the traditional duties of best man, relieving the bride and groom of most worries in preparing for the event.

Ackerman headed the groom's men who included Bill Powers, Chief Medic Asaph and Admiral Tomiakin.

Jeff paused dramatically when it came time to say 'I do', a twinkle in his eyes until he had the Rowan glaring fiercely at him in alarm.

Reidinger broke the tableau, swearing sotto voce 'It's a bit late now for cold feet! If you don't marry her, I will!' Jeff paused long enough to give the old Earth Prime a hefty mental buffet, then turned back to the Rowan. The adjudicator coughed delicately, repeating 'Do you wish to form a permanent union with this woman?' 'I most certainly do!' Jeff said in a clear firm voice that carried throughout the dome.

'And you, Angharad Gwyn, do you wish to form a permanent union with this man?' The Rowan cocked a head at Jeff but could not bring herself to drag the scene out. 'With all my heart, I do.' Just at that moment, as Jeff and Angharad bent to seal the ceremony with a kiss, Jeran slipped from Isthia's loose hand and rushed to cling to his mother, hand upraised.

Good boy! Isthia sent to the youngster in a tight shield.

Talk to her, say hello to your sister!

Elizara gave an approving wink, then cocked her head as if listening. Eyes widening in astonishment, she nodded. She caught Afra's rapt expression, traced it to the eldest Rowan child and raised her eyebrow provocatively at him. Afra acknowledged it with the merest flick of an eyebrow.

Jeff and Angharad, locked in a kiss made more special by the moment, knew nothing of the tight psychic interchange.

The navy had a special surprise as they made their way to the reception, a double line of uniformed men forming a bridge of steel with their archaic, polished swords.

Elizara caught up with Afra at the reception. 'It worked, you know.' 'Yes, I thought I felt her accept Jeran.

'Nevertheless an in utero link is most remarkable. It's been just a concept.

'Till now.' Afra grinned. 'My sister tried some sort of pre-natal reassurance but she would never admit to me just how successful she was. Do you think it will comfort the child now?' 'I felt her relax,' Elizara said, smiling tenderly, then added more briskly, 'Let's hope the Rowan never realizes how dangerous that merge might have been for her daughter. She'd never forgive herself. At least,' and Elizara's smile turned mischievous. 'At least today she had her mind on other matters and may never realize what was achieved.' She gave a girlish giggle which surprised Afra who had always found the practitioner the model of decorum. Then a thought distracted her. 'Now all we have to worry about is the effect on the two children!' 'They'll surely be closer than usual,' Afra replied.

'Which will please the Rowan, I know, but what about future siblings? We can't be sure we can mind-bond every child the Rowan has.' 'Why would we need to? The circumstances are unlikely to be repeated,' Afra said blithely and gave a diffident shrug.

One final surprise crowned the event, at least from the Rowan's viewpoint. The liner which had brought so many notables to Callisto for the ceremony had been the same one which had transported her from Altair to Jupiter's moon. It wasn't until Jeff had carried his officially acknowledged mate back to their quarters, that the significance became apparent.

'WHAT is that?' Jeff demanded, pointing to a large spotted furry lump in the middle of their bed.

The lump stirred, extended limbs, yawned widely, showing long white fangs, and then deigned to regard the intruders with vivid eyes.

'Rascal? Rascal!' the Rowan cried, her voice incredulous, her expression joyful.

'It's some rascal all right,' Jeff replied tartly, 'and it'll get out of my bed immediately. I have other plans 'You don't understand, Jeff, it's Rascal, my barque cat!' And the Rowan plunked herself down, reaching out to tickle the chin of the beautiful beast. 'Oh, Rascal, you've come back to me.' 'Mmmmrrrow!' said Rascal conversationally. He then graciously accepted her homage.

'Come, Jeff, pet him. Make him feel welcome.' 'Frankly, I don't wish to make-' 'Jeff Raven!' And the Rowan gave him a thoroughly indignant glance. 'Barque cats are special. We're honoured -by his presence.

'We are?' To keep peace on such an important night, Jeff did as the Rowan asked. Then she did as he asked and Rascal learned to find somewhere else, safer, to spend his nights.

Her face displaying a look of surprise and disappointment, Damia's baby legs gave out from underneath her and she plopped on to her dry-padded bottom. For a moment she considered crying but the disdainful look from Rascal assured her that he would provide no sympathy. Now why had she been standing, anyway? she mused. Year-old Damia's thoughts were not coherent for any great length of time and she often found herself wondering what she had been thinking of moments before. Missing. Something was missing. A faint shadow of the frown she had seen her mother use so effectively - her mother! That was it!

No mother nearby!

Damia pushed off the ground and stood, wobbling to survey her realm. She tottered slightly as she turned her head. Aside from the towering form of Rascal, Damia sighted no other living form. No ankles or warm kneecaps --entered her view. Determinedly she raised a foot to step forward only to lose her balance with an inelegant wobble and return unceremoniously to the floor.

Well! She had the Rowan's indignant tone down pat but still hadn't managed to convince her mouth to form more than 'gab'. On all fours she crawled towards the doorway.

--Rascal deftly interposed his elegantly marked body, whiskered nose stopping just short of her own. Had she been older she would have recognized the barque cat's expression as identical to the old British Bobby's: "ella, 'ella, 'ella! Where do we think we're going then?' However, it was obvious that the cat stood between her and her objective. She backpedalled and worked her way around the cat only to have it deftly interpose itself between her and the door again. Damia gave a squeal of indignation, dropped her head, and butted against the barque cat. The cat out-massed her; she wound up slipping on the carpet. Damia continued pushing for several seconds before she realized that she was making no progress.

She backed up and took stock of the situation. She determined to stand up in the hopes of outrunning Rascal, especially as the barque cat stood conveniently close to provide a prop to raise herself up.

Pleased with her solution, she reached forward for the cat but Rascal refused to cooperate, sagging out from under her hand.

It was too much, Damia adjusted her squeal of rage upward into an interminable bawl. Her aggravation was such that she failed to notice the approach of ankles.

'Damia?' A tenor voice murmured. 'Shh! Your mother's having a nap!' A mental image brushed her mind of her mother curled up on the bed, covered by a blanket much like the one that usually covered her.

Nap? Mothers no nap! Damia does! she thought.

Astonishment rippled at her, followed closely by sardonic humour.

Tired mothers nap.

Damia not nap now. Damia play now. The other mind registered reluctance. Damia persisted. Please?

Not so loud, child, the other mind chided gently. You'll wake your mother up. There was a gentle concern in the other's voice.

Who you?

Afra.

A face descended into view. Damia squiggled backwards on her bottom and regarded it. Blond hair, blond eyebrows, green skin, yellow eyes blinked at her, lips upturned in a smile. Afra, she thought to herself, fixing the face and the name together in her mind, adding them to the others she knew: mother, father, jer, cer, tanya, grandmother.

Afra sensed curiosity from the baby. At her age, coherent thought was intermittent and, as she had yet to talk, not vocalized but he 'touched' more in her mind than he expected.

'It's been a rough day at work for your mother and me, Afra told her soothingly. 'We ran extra shifts to get the local defence net into place. Your father's stuck down on Earth tonight.' He laughed. 'So I came over to see if I could lend a helping hand.' A light tan Coonie with dark brown face markings crossed in between them, casting a critical eye towards Damia. Haughtily it decided that Damia was neither threat nor food and turned to Afra with a chatter of sound.

Afra reached down and gave it a friendly pet. Damia absorbed this and reached a hand out. Unlike the rascally Rascal, this large furry thing bent into her feeble efforts. Encouraged, Damia continued as the Coonie swaggered back and forth, demandingly. The first raccoon-type beast had been a gift from Kama to Afra, to give him something to care for on Callisto. Others had admired the creature and, obtaining permission from the Rowan to import 'a few' more, several families in the compound now enjoyed their endearing antics. Rascal condescendingly tolerated their presence in his established haunts, like the Gwyn-Raven house.

'Ringle likes you,' Afra told her, then sighed. 'Now what should I do with you, minxlette? Your mother really needs the rest.' He turned his head towards the doorway. He looked back to her again with a smile. 'How about you and I play together for a bit?' Damia greeted the suggestion with a delighted burble and held up her chubby arms to this new playmate.

'She's much more articulate than either Jeran or Cera at the same age,' Afra told the Rowan one night two months later as he passed an evening in the Gwyn-Raven quarters. The two older children were happily doodling crayon scrawls on a large piece of paper spread across the floor. Damia was asleep, cradled in his lap.

'Articulate? She won't talk for another six months!' 'But I can isolate definite concepts in her mind and hear sounds that are almost words,' Afra replied equably. 'You know, like the shorthand speech Jeran and Cera have developed, not quite standard Basic but certainly real communication.

The Rowan placed a hand lightly on his shoulder and chuckled.

'This child of mine has bewitched you, Afra.' She shook her head.

'When she starts to talk, even baby talk, I'll know.' The Rowan frowned, wrinkled her nose with a dismayed sniff. 'Sorry, I didn't catch her in time and you've just been anointed.' Afra looked down at the sleeping form, whose face took on the drowsy smile of a baby who has relieved an uncomfortable hydrostatic pressure.

'Won't be the first time.' The Rowan laughed, shaking her head.

'You should be having children of your own, Afra.' He cocked his head at her. 'In my own time.' 'But you'd make such a marvellous father.

You shouldn't be limited to l.ping. Just look at how Damia succumbs to your charm,' and the Rowan indicated her sleeping daughter.

'I can't get her to do that. You didn't "encourage" this nap, did you?' she said in a half-accusatory voice.

'Heavens, no,' Afra replied, raising his hands to protest his innocence. Everyone in the Tower had been made aware of how the Rowan felt about any subtle mental control of her children. They were to grow up as normally as possible, with no mental tamperings, until Talent manifested itself in the due course of their development. That all three children were potentially high Talents had been established at their births but the Rowan didn't want their abilities forced, as hers had been.

The Rowan gave him a suspicious glare.

'Honest, Rowan!' Candidly Afra thought that a little adroit mental control might minimize the problems she'd been having with Damia but she was the parent. And Damia was definitely cut from a different mould than her older brother and sister. 'You saw yourself how Rascal and the Coonies wore her out playing.' The Rowan had to admit that.

'Will they survive her, I wonder?' 'They survived Jeran and Cera.

Actually, I think they have more fun with Damia. She's more inventive.' She had laughed as much at Damia chasing barque cat and Coonies as Afra had. Damia had been so intent on catching one or the other and all had eluded her until she'd collapsed in fatigue. Now the Rowan snorted in amusement at the recollection.

'Shhhh! You'll wake her.' He peered down at the beautiful face of the sleeping child.

Jeff Raven 'ported himself into the room. Afra looked up in greeting while the Rowan gave him a frosty glare.

The Rowan had definite views about Talent protocol.

'Use the door!' the Rowan said, reproving him.

'That would've roused the baby,' Jeff replied, unrebuked. 'She is asleep, isn't she?' When Afra nodded, he let out a sigh of relief.

'This one's worse than the other two, All: she has the uncanniest knack for waking up only on those nights we're shagged.' Jeff looked at his lifemate. 'Let's take a breather after this one? OK, love?

We need sleep.' The Rowan shook her head -vigorously. 'I want a big family, Jeff. I know what it's like to be lonely.' Jeff scowled in pretend horror. 'What? Greedy? Three bonuses aren't enough?' FT&T substantially rewarded Talents who produced offspring, in hopes of increasing the numbers of the Talented throughout the League.

Afra absorbed their repartee like a moth circling a candle: eager for the warmth but fearful of the flame.

Within this circle, he enjoyed family life - however vicariously and coveted these evenings, secure in the affection of both the Rowan and Jeff: the sort of family life that he had never had, never imagined was possible.

Jeran and Cera paused long enough in their mildly competitive application of colour to blank paper to smile at their father. He patted them affectionately, for Jeff had no trouble being demonstrative with his children. Then he became the host, offering to top up glasses before he poured one for himself and settled next to the Rowan on the circular couch.

'Has David calmed his Administration down?' Rowan asked.

Jeff gave a shrug. 'I sincerely hope so. Van Hygan and that ordnance fellow proved - to me, at least - that the factories are working overtime to turn out the components, that the Fleet is scheduled to move as soon as they have sufficient units, so it's only a matter of time before Betelgeuse, too, is securely ringed with early warning devices.' 'Which leaves Altair, Capella, and all the systems in between still struggling?' 'That's it,' Jeff said with a sigh, and he sipped his wine.

'Not that there's been a peep on any DEW unit.' His knee started jiggling, an indication of inner anxiety. The Rowan laid a hand on it and Jeff gave her a sheepish grin, instantly covering her hand with his.

Afra looked away, suffering a pang of jealousy for the bonding between his two best friends. Yet, if after long lonely years and vicissitudes, these two had found each other, perhaps he shouldn't give up hope. Kama had certainly indicated often enough her willingness to be more than bedmate and sometime confidante. He liked her, but his affection for her was a dull gleam beside the radiance that suffused Jeff and the Rowan. He stared down at Damia's small face, trying to imagine the features older, the mind mature. Detachedly he wondered what her life would be like, who she would marry, which Tower she would run (for he was certain she had Prime potential), whether he would have the joy of bouncing her babies on his knee. Would she be a handful like her mother or would she take after her father and he a biddable child like Cera and Jeran? Afra was willing to bet the former - with suitable individualized embellishments - but he was now deftly accustomed to handling the Rowan's outbursts with a carefully controlled silence. But here now was this wondrous baby, just beginning her life and she was sleeping on his lap! Afra marvelled that any soul could be so trusting of him. As he had told both Jeran and Cera, when they had been babies sleeping on his lap, I love you, little darling!

'Afra!' The Rowan's voice broke his reverie. For a moment he feared that she had 'heard' him but he gathered by her tone that, instead, she had been trying to gain his attention. She was standing, hands reaching down towards baby Damia. 'I'll take her. It's time she was properly put to bed.' Afra was reluctant to yield her. 'If you pick her up, she'll wake,' he said. 'Then goodness knows how long it'll be before you get her to sleep again with her batteries partly charged.' The Rowan wearily conceded his point.

'Just this once, 'port her to bed.' The Rowan's expression altered and anger clouded her eyes.

'Mra, you know. --' 'I think Afra's right. Or have you forgotten how long it took you last night -'She had a touch of colic,' the Rowan said by way of excuse.

'She doesn't tonight, and she's asleep,' Afra said. 'We've a heavy schedule tomorrow. She's so soundly asleep she won't even know she's been shifted.' The Rowan hesitated, torn between stated ethic and opportunity 'Just this once?' And Jeff added his encouragement: the warm look in his eyes and the slightly sensual curve to his smile suggested to Afra, as well as to the Rowan, what plans her husband had in mind for her. 'And, appreciating your scruples in the matter, my love, I'll 'port her.' She wavered lust long enough and suddenly the warm weight of the sleeping child was lifted from Afra's lap as Jeff took advantage of her hesitation.

'I'd better make sure...' the Rowan said and hurried from the room but, as Jeff and Afra grinned at each other, neither heard any loud protest from the 'ported sleeper.

Jeff clapped his hands together, attracting the attention of the older two. 'C'mon, put your crayons away.

Bedtime.' Without protest, Jeran and Cera broke off their activity and began to stuff their colours back into the box. They were already dressed in their nightclothes and each with solemn expression held out a hand to their father to be led away to their cots.

'Say good night to Afra.' "Night, Afra,' the two chorused dutifully.

'Sleep well, Jeran, Cera,' he replied politely.

'Thanks, Unk,' Jeff said with a grin as he led his children off.

Afra finished his wine, somewhat regretting the absence of Damia on his lap. She was a great leg warmer. Sighing, he rose and made his way back to his own quarters. He treasured these evenings for they anchored his soul and countered the depression he often felt for not being able to establish a similarly satisfying 'marriage of true minds' for himself.

Over the years he had consoled himself with being the brother the Rowan had lost in that avalanche, keeping philia and eros separate. He had also come to recognize the unexpected reward of his upbringing on a Methody world, despite its legacy of emotional control and detachment.

Although he had learned to break out of the rigid undemonstrative demeanour that his parents had instilled in him and could, on occasion, express his emotions, that early training kept his unrequited love for the lonely Rowan separate from his affection for Angharad GwynRaven.

The tense atmosphere of the busiest Tower in the League was no place for a person to act like a pressure vessel. So, with Kama for his sexual needs, the Rowan for his intellectual comfort and Gollee Gren for his still irrepressibly rebellious nature, Afra managed to keep himself balanced.

Afra could tell by the way the Rowan walked into the Tower that she'd had another bad night with Damia who was teething. With Jeff on his annual Tower Inspections throughout the Nine Star League, the Rowan was having a spate of unrelieved childcare. Some of her personnel, Afra included, devoutly hoped that this would certainly delay, if not deter her, from considering a fourth pregnancy, which was on her agenda, if not on Jeff's. The Rowan's first priority ought to be a smooth-functioning Callisto Tower.

'Bad night?' Afra asked sympathetically.

The Rowan rolled her eyes. 'The other two weren't like her at all,' she said, a hint of despair in her voice.

'My firstborn was like her,' Brian Ackerman added, handing the Rowan the sheaf of flimsies for the morning's outgoing traffic. 'One night I caught myself holding Borrie at arm's length and screaming at him to shut up.' Brian scratched behind his left ear, embarrassed to relate that reaction. 'She'll grow out of it, Rowan. You'll see.' 'But when?' The Rowan's tone was both wistful and rueful. 'Will I last long enough?' 'Ah, it seems a long time when you have to go through it,' Brian said with the encouraging, slightly patronizing smile that the survivor will give the victim. 'But it won't be long now.' 'Why don't you have Tanya cope with her tonight?' Afra asked. The very competent T-8 who managed the pre-school creche had established a good rapport with Damia who napped quite easily when required to do so under her care. One of the other mothers had suggested, within Afra's hearing, that perhaps the Rowan, being so highstrung, was unconsciously stimulating her daughter into these wakeful nights.

The Rowan rolled her eyes expressively. 'I couldn't do that, Afra. Tanya has to cope with her all day long. I can't ask her to take night-duty as well.' 'Ask,' suggested Afra. 'She can only say no 'I don't wish to make her feel she has to because I can't cope.' There was a slightly hysterical edge to the Rowan's voice.

'What about a pukha?' Afra suggested.

The Rowan stared as if she couldn't believe her ears.

'My daughter is perfectly normal. She is not the least bit traumatized.' 'I didn't mean to imply she was,' Afra said at his calmest because he could see the dangerous glint in her eyes. 'But pukhas do soothe the restless child.?

'She's teething, I said.' 'Gotta better idea,' Brian said, hoping to divert the brewing of a Rowan-storm. 'We don't have any live traffic this ( morning. Nothing Afra and me can't handle.' Somewhat gingerly, he took the Rowan by the arm and turned her back towards the Tower door. 'Also, right now Damia' 5

Tanya's responsibility, all legit, no favours required. So, you go get yourself six good hours of sacktime until the outer system stuff comes through. Right?' Almost magically, the fury went out of the Rowan and she put her hand on Brian's shoulder, expressing her heartfelt relief at his entirely sensible suggestion.

'Oh, could I?' Quick to take advantage of her compliance, Afra made a shooing gesture, and 'pathed her a firm nudge, planting the image of her stretched out on her bed, her hands folded virginally across her chest 'Don't lay me out quite yet, please,' she replied with some asperity but then she managed to grin. Before I change my mind, she added to Afra and half-ran out of the Tower and down the link to her quarters.

Afra followed her mental touch until the door to her shielded house closed behind her, but he had no doubts that she made her way straight to her bed. He'd been maladroit to bring up the subject of a pukha for Damia but he hated to see the Rowan so dragged out. She'd handled alien monsters with less strain. He set the remote alarm to ring in her room in six hours and then went up to the Tower room to start the day's business.

There was indeed nothing that he and Brian couldn't handle with full gestalt and a little assistance from the higher T-ratings in the Tower. Sometimes he wondered why so many single cargo pods were routed. It'd take less time and effort to link same-destination packages together and flick 'em out in one lot. Afra made a note to suggest the idea to Jeff on his return to Earth.

Some four hours into Rowan's respite, Tanya contacted him.

Afra, the Rowan didn't by any chance remove Damia from daycare, did she?

No, Tanya. Why? Afra felt the first spurt of panic.

Damia isn't anywhere in the creche. She was asleep in her cot when I last looked.

Did you ask Jeran and Cera?

Oh, them! Tanya's tone was disgusted. They told me she went out waving her wand.

Hold it a moment, folks, and Afra spoke to everyone in the Tower, missing person problem.

Damia? Brian asked and groaned. Why did kindly notions dissolve into disasters? Can't you spot her, Afra?

If you'll give me the quiet to do so. Afra had already begun to cast his mind about. He could usually 'hear' her infantile stream of consciousness anywhere. Whether or not he could trace her wherever she had got to in the compound was another matter. He'd better or the Rowan would skin him for garters. Afra started at the daycare rooms, casting about the main compound.

Then Brian and Joe Toglia came stamping up the stairs to the Tower and began flicking on the screens to interior monitors, examining one area after another of the four domes that comprised the station. The screens showed no small figure trundling about.

'How long's she been walking?' Brian asked Afra.

'Long enough to be pretty good at it.' Cursing under his breath, Brian programmed a decko of the tunnel links. There were so many places that could shelter a small body from the optical sensors.

'She's not tall enough to reach the doorplates, is she?' asked Joe, thumbing through views of the basement levels of the supply section.

'Wait a minute! And, with sudden inspiration, Afra leaned across the console and accessed the remote in his own quarters. And there Damia was, toddling about his living-room after Ringle and two other Coonies, trying to bean them with the dowel-wand in her hand. 'And that's how she activated the doors. - waving her wand!' Afra 'ported into the room, sweeping the stray child into his arms.

'Al'a! Al'a!' she squealed with delight, patting his face with her free hand and waving her 'wand' furiously with the other. He carefully unwrapped her fingers from the dowel before she stuck it in his eye.

'Damia shouldn't leave Tanya!' he said, knowing how futile scolding this imp could be. Merrily she grinned up at him, her huge blue eyes rounder than ever with her excitement.

'Al'a! Al'a?' She began to squirm free, 'Ingul, Ingul,' and she twisted her head to find Ringle, arching her back to get free.

'No Ringle now, Damia. I'm taking you back to Tanya.

'Tan'a? Tan'a.' That name emerged as a sort of guttural grunt and the twisting became more violent. 'No, Tan'a.

Ingul. Wan Ingul.

'Not now, baby!' Bearing in mind the Rowan's dislike of exposing her children to Talented actions, he secured her writhing form in his arms and walked her back to the creche where an anxious Tanya waited at the door.

'Ingul, Ingul,' Damia was saying over his shoulder, suddenly ceasing to fidget. 'Ingul. Goo Ingul.' Turning his head, Afra saw Ringle dutifully following him.

'How could she have got out, Afra?' Tanya said in a near wail as she reached out to relieve Afra of his burden.

'She had a wand, a dowel stick with a star on the end of it,' Afra told her.

'And used that to activate the doorplates?' Tanya was amazed.

'The little minx. Well, I'll get Forrie to touch code them tomorrow.

She won't try that one on me again.

Where's the Rowan?' Tanya anxiously looked across the compound.

Afra could well imagine how she had dreaded confronting an irate mother, especially a Prime, whose child she had just misplaced. Damia tried to launch herself head down out of Tanya's arms, both arms reaching for Ringle who had entered the creche. Deftly, Tanya righted the child, placed her on her feet so that she could reach Ringle who scampered off, Damia following as fast as she could churn her short legs.

'The Rowan arrived this morning looking like hell warmed over,' Afra began.

'She did look exhausted when she dropped the children off,' Tanya remarked, and made a rueful noise with her lips.

'So we sent her back home for some rest. Afra did not mention his abortive mention of acquiring a pukha for Damia, though these 'comfort toys' could be programmed for any number of responses to soothe a fretful child.

'Tanya, how do you get Damia to take her naps?' The girl regarded him with surprise. Not for the first time Afra thought that she was little more than a child herself, for all he knew she was twenty-nine.

She was a daintily made girl, all brown: brown eyes, brown hair, light brown skin, with small hands and feet. If Gollee Gren hadn't expressed an interest in her, Afra would have been tempted to try his luck.

'Well,' and Tanya pointed to the rocking chair just visible in the nap alcove, 'if she won't settle, I rock her and sing a lullaby. She goes right to sleep for me.' She caught her lip with her teeth, looking sheepish, and fluttering one hand in dismay. Afra could 'hear' her distress at seeming to criticize her Prime.

'Just a lullaby?' 'Just a lullaby,' she replied firmly. 'You know how the Rowan feels about mental coercion. Actually, any song will do the trick. I use different ones so I don't get bored.' 'I know how the Rowan feels but what she doesn't know, won't hurt,' Afra said, having come to a decision.

The Tower demanded some adjustment to her directive.

He called Ringle to him. 'And it will sure help all of us.' Brown eyes widening, Tanya's jaw dropped in consternation. 'Afra, I don't think we should.' 'We both know that a mild therapeutic post-hypnotic suggestion doesn't in the least inhibit the developing mind of the Talented child,' Afra said as he reached down to stroke the obedient Ringle.

Trotting up behind him came a giggling Damia, dark curls bouncing on her shoulders. So Afra captured his victim and asked Tanya to teach him the tune and the words. By the time he had learned them and implanted the command in Damia' 5 mind, she had yawned herself to sleep in his arms.

'I'll send Forrie to change the ps, Afra said and went whistling back to the Tower, crisis over. At least, he amended privately, this one.

When the Rowan, much refreshed, returned to the Tower, everyone was very careful not to think of the morning's brief crisis. And Afra waited for an opportune moment to suggest a sure-fire remedy for Damia' nocturnal restlessness.

Brian listened, his mouth slightly ajar, as Afra recounted a totally fictional account of how his sister, Goswina, had dealt with his sleepless nephew'A rocking chair?' the Rowan asked in surprise.

'Rocking chair,' Afra said and implanted the appropriate image in his mind for her to see. Then set it moving, and placed a Rowan and a Damia in it. 'Between the motion of the chair, the repetitive rhythm in his mother's reassuring voice, my nephew was soon fast asleep.' 'I'm willing to try anything. But I don't know any lullabies. Jeran and Cera never needed any.' 'I know a good one,' Brian said. 'My mother used to say how often she had to rock me when I was teething.' In a rather strong baritone voice, he launched into a rendition of an ancient folk tune about what a daddy would buy his ll'l baby if it would hush.

Afra countered with Tanya's 'Rock-a-bye baby'. 'That one was a sure-fire sleep-inspirer.' What's going on in the Tower? asked Jeff Raven. It is working hours.

Sony, boss, Afra said with absolutely no remorse.

Ready, my lovely? Jeff asked the Rowan, we have some paying customers.

And, instantly and of one mind, Callisto Tower turned into a smooth functioning facility.

'Wanna play,' Damia told her two siblings. They were all in their home play-room while their mother was in the kitchen, preparing lunch.

Jeran and Cera were building a complex structure of blocks. Damia had been in a corner crooning to herself as she trotted her herd of ponies about an obstacle course and in and out of their stable. The intense silence of her siblings' concentration attracted her.

'G'way,' Jeran told her.

'Y'g'way,' Cera added, waving her sister off.

'Wanna play,' Damia repeated. Then changed her tactics. 'Can't I play with you?' Jeran blinked at her, recognizing grown-up syntax for their parents never used baby-talk. 'No, Damia,' for he could speak just as good grown-up as she could, 'Cera and I are playing together.' He waved towards her corner. You play with your horses.' 'Ponies,' Damia corrected him absently in a vague hope of provoking further attention from her brother. But Cera nudged him, indicating a block in her hand and, in their private garble, requesting his opinion on its placement.

Recognizing the futility of enticing them from their game, Damia turned away. She looked at the corner where her toys were strewn. She thought of calling Rascal who always came to her, or the Coonies but she'd already spent half her morning with them.

'Bored! I'm so bored!' She looked about her. The baby gate blocked her exit from the play-room. But that was the way out, to more exciting play. She walked over to it, examining it carefully. She had watched her mother putting it up many times now and observation had shown her how it worked. The gate was braced in place by a simple lever that locked down. A simple jerk up would release the brace and the door could be pulled aside or knocked over. Normally Damia could do nothing with the information she had acquired because the lever was on the outside which she could not reach. Today, however, her mother had inadvertently reversed the gate and the lever was inside.

Tentatively, more from curiosity than plan, Damia tapped the lever. It jerked up and the baby gate fell softly on to the carpet in the hallway.

Jeran heard the noise and looked around at her. 'Damia ha'guh.' Cera added, scowling, 'Dam ha!' Against this censure, Damia could not bring herself to explain that she'd only touched it: getting it to drop out of the door was an accident. However, the gate was down, Jeran and Cera wouldn't play with her, but Afra would.

He always did. She would find Afra.

Safety was a paramount consideration on Callisto Station and reigned over security. Consequently all doors were the automatic sliding type, with ultrasound sensors. Early in Jeran's babyhood, the Rowan had ordered the sensors raised so that the boy could not leave the house. Jeran never wanted to, nor did Cera. As the Rowan hadn't heard about Damia's adventure with her 'wand', it hadn't occurred to her to alter the sensors to touch-control plates.

All Damia had to do was find something long enough for her to break the circuit.

A long stemmed flower from the dry arrangement on the hall table, acquired by climbing up on a chair and removing a suitable one from the vase, made a good substitute for her wand. The door slid politely out of her way Every dome had a hallway where the personnel tubes connected and where elevators, freight and human, expelled their cargo. Below ground were the powerplants, hydroponics garden, life support, recycling machinery, gravity generators - all the equipment required to keep Callisto Station operating. Also in the basement were the long-term survival units awaiting a catastrophic disaster.

The personnel tubes were plasglas covered, allowing personnel access between the four lesser domes. Along the tubes were personal safety capsules to guard against the unlikely event of a pressure breach.

Damia had travelled all the tubes but always in the company of adults. Now she spent many moments carefully considering each tube.

With a determined look plastered over her misgivings, she started off down her chosen tube.

She stopped several times to look back yearningly towards her home but always she trudged onward. She had chosen correctly: the tube opened up on to the large park that was the 'doorstep' for Callisto Quarters.

To her right was the large gymnasium with its indoor pool, to her left the two-storeyed Married Quarters and straight on, through the park with its dwarf trees, was the three-levelled Bachelor Quarters.

As most of the residents were indoors, eating or involved in other chores while Jupiter occluded Callisto, no-one happened to notice her progress.

'Afra!' she cried in cheerful anticipation, toddling as fast as her slender legs could carry her.

However, she had left her long stemmed flower behind her and had nothing close to hand to trip the sensor.

She grew quite frustrated, poking at the undemonstrative door, jumping up and down, hand above her head, trying to reach the plate.

Afra! Afra? she said, unaware that, in her anxiousness to contact him, she used an ability that she ought not to have discovered so prematurely. She had also launched her mental call into his quarters, not realizing that Afra was lunching with Brian, nor that she'd have needed more 'volume' to reach him. However, she did startle Ringle awake.

With an understanding chitter of acknowledgement, the Coonie started towards the door. As the Coonies all needed access to the park for their toilet, maintenance had equipped them with ultrasound collars. Ringle walked up to the door, paced by it and it opened.

'Afra!' Damia entered jubilant and halted her headlong progress into the room when only Ringle greeted her.

'Afra? Afra, play with me!' She toddled off to find her playmate, not noticing that the door silently closed behind her, having been open long enough for any animal to exit.

'Where is Afra?' she asked Ringle who had followed her in her perambulation.

Ringle chittered, turning away from her and pacing towards the kitchen. He was always hungry and Damia had given him sufficient tidbits on previous visits here to allow him to hope for more.

Emergency! the Rowan 'pathed on the widest band possible.

She stood on her front steps, the baby gate dangling from one hand. Damia's got out. I don't know where she's got to.

I've checked every remote screen and there's no sign of her How long's she been gone? Afra was the first to ask.

How do I know? the Rowan exclaimed, half despairing, half angry.

I was getting lunch. She'd been safely in the play-room with Jeran and Cera who, in their fashion, and that was added in a terse tone, have no idea where their sister went. Jeran said she knocked the gate down.

Remembering all too well Damia's tendency to seek him out, Afra replied. If you haven't seen her on the remotes, then I've a good idea where she might be.

Relieve my mind? the Rowan asked cryptically.

Afra had no trouble seeing her tapping her foot with impatience.

My place.

How in the world would she get there?

Walked, was Afra's laconic answer.

I'll meet you there. And the Rowan's tone was severe.

Afra 'ported himself from Brian's dining area to his living-room and sure enough, Damia was busy feeding Ringle leftovers from his refrigerator. She was convulsed with the giggles because Ringle was 'washing' each handful before he popped it into his mouth.

The Rowan arrived only a moment later, anger and relief warring for dominance. But Damia's laughter was infectious and, as Afra saw the Rowan's expression soften, he allowed himself to grin.

Suddenly aware of observation, Damia swivelled about.

'Afra!' Abandoning Ringle, she raced to him, only then aware of her mother. She teetered to a stop, her expression one of total innocence. 'The gate fell over, Mommy. Honest it did. They never play with me and I was bored! Afra always plays with me.' Grabbing his hand, Damia tilted her head up. 'Don't you, Afra?' He squatted down to her level. 'I do when it is the time to play, Damia. But you must wait for me to come. Do you understand? You mustn't come looking.' She nodded solemnly, one hand bringing her comfort finger to her mouth.

The Rowan hunkered down, too, her eyes on a level with her fractious daughter. 'You know you're not supposed to wander around the station, Damia. Don't you?' Damia shook her head. 'I wanted to play.

Jeran and Cera won't play with me. Ever.' She tried to squeeze a tear out of her eyes.

'How'd you get in?' Afra asked, knowing that Damia was trying the wrong tactics on her mother.

'Ringle let me in!' Damia pointed to the Coonie who was now finishing his impromptu meal.

Afra and Rowan exchanged surprised looks.

'Ringle heard me,' Damia went on, 'he let me in.' 'How could he do that?' Rowan asked Afra then looked accusingly at her daughter. 'You must tell the truth, Damia.' 'I tell the truth,' and Damia's face began to contort as a prelude to tears over such adult intransigence.

'If Ringle heard her, he'd come to the door,' Afra said quickly, to forestall Damia's tearful reaction. 'His collar would open the door. It'll close automatically.' The Rowan let out a long, exasperated sigh and gathered her daughter in her arms. 'All right, Damia. Now don't cry. But you mustn't run about the compound on your own. Promise, you won't leave the house without someone with you?' Clinging to her mother in an excess of contrition, Damia vigorously nodded her head.

'Now, your lunch is ready, young lady,' the Rowan said, hoping that she had made her point without frightening her wayward child.

'Ringle's had his, and I'll go back to mine, Afra said, ushering the two out of his apartment. And I'll get a cat-flap put in my door.

Damia's too big to crawl through one of those.

There was relative peace for a few weeks. Afra was not the only one nervously anticipating the next Damianism.

As it happened, there was a great deal of traffic in that morning, heavy stuff that needed careful handling. Tanya's frantic cry for help was therefore not welcome to anyone in the Tower.

I can't stop Damia, Afra, the girl cried. And I know the Rowan's terribly busy but I'm afraid Damia will hurt someone Afra signalled for Joe Toglia to take over as he spun his chair over to the nearest free monitor and called up the remote in the daycare centre. He could see Tanya, cowering by the communitas the other children cringed under the small-scale furniture. Jeran and Cera serenely played some intricate game while a stream of toy bits and parts, and occasionally something heavier, was rained at them by an enraged Damia who was blubbering in fury.

'Play with me! Look at me! Talk to me!' she was screaming. As soon as she exhausted the objects on the shelf beside her, she moved to the box of connectable shapes. Fortunately her aim was skewed or - and Afra couldn't quite believe this - Jeran and Cera were deflecting the projectiles, for most items dropped well short of targets who blithely ignored her.

Instantly Afra 'ported the box out of reach and, when she squealed in outrage, cleared the next likely ammunition out of range.

No, Damia, he said in as disapproving a tone as he had ever used with her. That is not allowed.

'They won't talk to me!' Damia cried, sobbing with frustration.

'S'not fair! They never talk to me! They never play with me.' Then she ran to the pile of things that had fallen short of their mark and would have pelted Jeran and Cera with them if Afra had not made a clean sweep. 'And that's not fair, Afra. That's not fair at all!' Tanya!

Afra called. Grab that little minx and make her take a nap!

Damia, you will go with Tanya this instant and stop making such a display of bad manners. Such a temper for someone who will run a Tower! He was slightly appalled to hear one of his mother's favorite admonitions emerge from his lips.

To his amazement, Damia gulped back the next of her indignant sobs and submitted to Tanya's ministrations.

She was asleep before Tanya got through the first verse.

Jeran and Cera continued their game as if nothing had happened.

'I think, Rowan, that you had better speak to Jeran and Cera,' Afra told her when Jupiter occluded Callisto and everyone could take a break.

'Why? What have they done?' So Afra explained the scene in the daycare room. 'It's my opinion that they do that deliberately, knowing it will upset her. She does indeed feel left out.' The Rowan considered this, slightly defensively. 'They have this bonding. And Damia is much younger. -'That doesn't give them the right to exclude her, especially when they do it deliberately.' -'She shouldn't lose her temper that way.' The Rowan set her mouth firmly. 'She's constantly demanding attention.' 'Perhaps, but Jeran and Cera could include her in their games once in a while. You know they never do. And don't tell me they're more advanced. Damia's advanced, too.

The Rowan had to admit that, for Damia's vocabulary was at least as extensive as her siblings', and certainly her small muscle control was excellent. So she did have a talk with her elder children, quietly and positively, and, after they had listened attentively to her, they had one of their short-speak conversations that so excluded her she experienced reluctant sympathy for her youngest.

'We will teach Damia to play one of our simpler games, Mother,' Jeran said in his prosaic way. 'That should satisfy her.' The Rowan told Afra later that it had been all she could do to keep from giggling at his pomposity.

'You see, then, Damia had a valid complaint,' Afra said.

'Yes, she did,' and then the Rowan sighed deeply. 'I want all my children to love and understand each other.' Afra gave a derisive snort. 'Wait till they're old enough, my dear. Right now, they're cruel, heartless, mean little monsters. Rowan gave him a startled stare. 'Well, they are, but I'm sure they'll grow out of it.

Tanya contacted the Tower ten days later - tactfully waiting until the break.

'Jeran and Cera played a new game with Damia, and with half the other children,' she told the Rowan, trying very hard not to laugh.

'Then why-' 'Because the game was colour-oriented,' and now Tanya did burble with laughter. 'Your three are green and the others are a sort of pied-piper of whatever other colours were left in the water-paints. I can't get nine children clean by myself so could parents be excused for fifteen minutes?

Fortunately it is a water soluble emulsion. And they did take their clothes off first.' That mischief had not originated with Damia but she did her own variation several days later when she tried to paint Rascal and every Coonie in the compound. This time with an oil-based paint she had evidently found where the maintenance man had left it while he ate lunch.

Everyone was annoyed with her for that one and the Rowan insisted that she help the owners clean their pets' fur. She also insisted that everyone let Damia know how much they disapproved.

'Maybe she'll come to realize that she could hurt the animals with a trick like this. They've feelings, too.' Damia was indeed much chastened by human censure but neither Rascal nor any of the Coonies seemed to avoid her. In fact, there were half a dozen who would happily throng to her at her peculiar warbling whistle. During the outdoor activities that Tanya conducted every afternoon, Damia was usually surrounded by the pets while she waited for her turn. As her brother and sister could ignore extraneous matters, Damia could inhabit a world that consisted of herself and the animals.

One afternoon, while others were gathered around Tanya, Damia was cajoling her four-footed cohorts to try and catch the ball on a string that she was dragging behind her as she ran pell-mell around the park.

She ran out of breath by the pool door which someone had left slightly ajar.

She peered inside. This pool was much much larger than the one in her house where she often swam with her parents. While she knew that the pool was here, she'd never had occasion to visit it. And, at this time of the day, it was empty. Suddenly Ringle batted her string ball through the door, on to the tiled surface around the pool. The string whipped out of her hand and Ringle triumphantly carried it off down the pool side.

'Ringle, that's not playing the game,' she said, running after him. But the soles of her sandals were slick and she skidded, her feet going out from under her. She fell heavily on her shoulder and tipped over into the pool with a huge splash.

She was competent enough in water not to panic, and surfaced. The Coonies shrieked at the top of their lungs and Rascal, who'd been the last one in the pool, responded by throwing himself into the water, raising a wave that hit her right in the face, swamping mouth and nose.

She started to choke, couldn't get her breath and became frightened.

Afra! Help me! she cried, flailing her arms about in panic, trying to reach the pool ledge. The Coonies, m trying to reach her, got in her way and she went under the water.

The next thing she knew, hands were dragging her to the surface, hauling her from the pool, pounding her back to open her airways.

It's all right, baby, it's all right. Afra's here, and she was held against a wet but reassuring human body.

DAMIA! cried her mother and suddenly the Rowan was there, reaching to take her from Afra, holding her so close that Damia was amazed to discover that her mother could tremble. She could 'feel' her mother's fear and that so shattered her confidence that she burst into tears.

It took time to calm her down, calm the Rowan down, dry soaking Coonies and Rascal, and then more time for Damia to insist that it had not been their fault. The door had been open and she had slipped on the wet edge.

'But you know you're not supposed to go into a pool room without someone with you, Damia,' her mother said, with an edge to her voice that Damia now recognized as disapproval. 'And Coonies do not constitute someone else!' 'I wasn't going swimming, Mommy, I was playing with my friends.' Over her head, the Rowan looked hopelessly up at Afra who was wringing out his shirt. 'She's never in the wrong, is she?' 'Actually,' and Afra paused to towel his sopping hair, 'she often isn't. She's simply inquisitive, inventive, isolated.' 'Well, I'm doing something about that!' the Rowan said, 'with or without Jeff Raven's complete cooperation. Damia needs a companion.' Afra managed to hide his grimace in the towel and then stopped rubbing his hair as he reviewed her phrasing.

'With or without Jeff's complete cooperation'? He dropped the towel and stared at her.

'Angharad Gwyn-Raven, do you mean what I think you mean?' She gave him a wide-eyed stare of innocence, still rocking her daughter. 'I want my children to have a happy childhood, and not feel excluded or forced to play with animals.' 'Damia loves the Coonies.' 'Exactly! I want her to have a brother to love.' When told of the afternoon's escapade, Jeff sighed deeply. 'She's like me at the same age. Mother couldn't keep me in the yard with a logging chain.' 'So how did she keep track of you?' Jeff grinned in reminiscence. 'Dad was good at training animals ' He laughed when he saw the exasperated expression on the Rowan's face. '... He sicked a wolf bitch on me as guardian.

She followed me everywhere and if she thought I was likely to get in trouble, she'd trip me up, knock me down, sit on my back and howl.

Sometimes she was bowling a long time but I didn't come another cropper even if my knees and ribs were always bruised from being knocked flat by 30 kilos of white wolf.' 'Barque cats and Coonies are sufficient livestock in a dome.' 'Oh, I know that. Merely apprising you that Damia' 5

escapades follow a well-established genetic pattern.' 'We can't have more animals but we can provide her with another sort of suitable companion,' the Rowan went on, bringing the conversation neatly to where she wanted it.

'I gather that you are in the process of providing that companion,' Jeff remarked with a bite in his tone.

The Rowan took a backwards step, nervously biting her lip. 'How did you know?' 'It's been what? Two months? It shows.' Jeff returned.

He stepped forward, laid a hand on her belly. 'How did you do it?' The Rowan dipped her head. 'A lady must keep some secrets. It's a boy, you know.' 'To give Damia someone to care for.' 'Beside Afra,' the Rowan added.

'Her affection for him is natural. He's family.' 'But she called him, not me.

Jeff perceived her conflict. 'And how many times have you impressed upon the children that they are not to call you when you're in the Tower?' The Rowan slumped disconsolately. 'But I have to make them understand that.' 'I agree. So Afra becomes the next best person to turn to. Let us be thankful that he is also willing and extremely able. We might even get him to like the feel of trusting young arms about his neck enough to do something about starting his own family.' 'Your last effort at matchmaking did not work?' The Rowan was secretly pleased. 'You should leave matchmaking to the women of your family, love.' 'I don't recall any efforts on your part.' 'I've yet to meet a woman good enough,' the Rowan said brusquely. When Jeff raised an eyebrow in turn, she added, 'Afra should have someone really special.

I owe so much of my happiness to him.' Her pregnancy was not going well. She had managed to endure three months of morning sickness, clinging to the consolation that those symptoms would gradually ease.

But they persisted; her waspishness grew to uncontrollable proportions, her ankles hurt abominably and she was absolutely convinced that the gravity in Callisto Station was set too high. She blamed everyone in sight for her condition, including Brian Ackerman who defused it with his best 'would that it were true' look, but especially Damia for her requirement of a little brother and Jeff for not stopping her in her wilful theft of his sperm.

Her condition established a vicious cycle where her temper would set off the children and depress the station staff such that her temper would get worse and so the effect would escalate. By the sixth month of her pregnancy, the staff was completely gaunt-faced and jittery.

What she absolutely hated, and could not admit to herself, was the fact that Afra would not get irritated with her no matter how irascible she became. She longed for the chance to rant at him so desperately that she knew it was completely irrational. He was nearly obsequious in his genuine concern for her and always caringly thoughtful of her needs and condition.

In her pregnancy with Damia and Cera before her, Afra had always been willing to take the children off her hands so that she might rest as best she could in her condition.

This time, however, she was unwilling to let Damia out of her sight, letting, instead, the elder two stay with 'Uncle Afra', Afra took the whole situation phlegmatically which irritated the Rowan because it did not irritate him. He even went to the extreme of getting Damia's solemn promise to be extra careful of her mother in her gravid state, a promise which the child carried out faithfully until the Rowan shrieked at her one day as she attempted to serve breakfast in bed. After that Damia became a sullen, dispirited child prone to unprovoked fits of crying.

But a prolonged sulk was not in Damia's nature. Heartened by the solicitous nature of the Coonies and by Rascal's steadfast loyalty, she took to exploring the nooks and crannies of Callisto Station escorted only by the felines.

She was not 'heard' by anyone as she traipsed about on her great adventures because she had learned of necessity to shield herself from the Rowan, projecting a totally false image of her surroundings: generally her own room.

So while her ailing mother thought her safely playing at home, she conducted her personal rebellion. She loved the personal safety pods the most. These lined the corridors and subterranean ways of Callisto Station, provided against catastrophic pressure loss. Gaining entrance was easy: she merely walked up to one and the translucent panel slid open. Inside there were marvellous accoutrements: a plush seat with all sorts of computer controls adorning a keypad, a computer ready to aid her in any emergency and room enough for her coven of Coonies.

Best of all, the computer would carefully and patiently explain every aspect of the capsule until she had it memorized. She would play in these for hours; Damia Queen of Space, Damia Space Police, Damia Rescue Run.

At the end of every game, where Coonies played medics, pirates, injured and police at her whim, Damia would carefully peer outside her capsule and, the coast clear, quietly exit it, carefully closing the door and observing the green 'A-OK' light. Then, depending on the hour and her hunger, she would either return to the Rowan's quarters or traipse on to the next capsule and the next game.

Her discovery of the cargo cradles at the base of the Tower was an eye-popping revelation. She scrunched herself tight up against the corridor wall, watching in awe as the cradles magically filled and emptied again as cargo was shunted back and forth to the large composite ships waiting patiently in orbit above for their cargo to be marshalled and the Rowan to push the result off to its destination planet.

Cargo capsules were long and box-like, exactly the same as those used on ships and trains for surface transport on worlds. Passenger capsules were different and came in many shapes and sizes. All had airlocks at various strategic locations and most had view panels. But most intriguing to Damia were the personal safety pods which blistered the sides of the larger passenger transporters.

She was sufficiently sensitive psychically to know that the capsules were being manipulated by various Talents in the Tower. Once, with a thrill of recognition, she felt Afra's sure mental touch as a string of passenger capsules were separated and landed in individual cradles. Small domes enclosed them and soon maintenance personnel were busy, working around them.

'That Altairian freighter's late!' the Rowan snapped at Afra up in her Tower. The expedient of reducing the gravity on Callisto had eased the weight on her swollen feet but did nothing to alleviate her temper.

Afra turned carefully to face her, eyes showing the strain of his mental manipulations.

'There's a problem in the life support system of the passenger and crew quarters,' he explained. He closed his eyes in concentration, something he normally did not require and looked back up at her.

'Powers is handling it.

'We're going to blow the whole day's schedule!' the Rowan replied in what was nearly a wail. She directed her frustration solidly at Afra.

'No, we're not.' Brian Ackerman returned steadily, relieving Afra of the brunt of the Rowan's ill-will. 'I've already worked around the problem. I've got a fifteen minute window before things start piling up.' Afra considered that and nodded. 'Should be about '5' right.' He sent a thought to Powers. 'Bill says it'll be tight but he'll push for it.' 'In the meantime, Rowan, while it's not normally your task, if you could pull apart that Procyon composite that'll keep Afra free to stitch together the Altairian.

The Rowan started to protest but Ackerman gave her such a pleading look that she relented. 'Where're the sheets?' 'On two.' The Rowan turned to her second console and, referring to it, commenced to pull the capsules off the Procyon ship Lysis.

The passenger capsules called to Damia. They screamed of adventure, of far off places, of Damia Star Guard. She glanced backwards at the cats for support, ignored Rascal's counsel of caution, and proceeded boldly forward towards the tunnel leading to the first passenger capsule.

Bill, Bill, she'll blow a fuse if it's not ready! Ackerman sent privately to the Assistant Supercargo.

Powers' response was laced with strain. We're pushing it now, Brian.

In the Tower, unseen, Ackerman nodded approvingly.

Just keep it up.

Damia marched unconcerned by techs and maintenance personnel on her way to the passenger capsule. The cats followed her at a discreet distance, blended into the landscape in the way of all cats.

One of the shipboard personnel looked at her and mistook her for a passenger 'You'd best get back aboard, little lady,' he told her politely.

'I don't know how,' Damia replied.

The technician took pity on her, no matter that the station personnel were throwing a fit, and led her aboard the passenger capsule.

'You know your way from here?' he asked, worried that he would lose too much time if he had to search out her parents.

'Oh, yes!' Damia responded, eyeing one of the safety capsules eagerly. Damia Space Guard on a real spaceship!

'Have a good journey!' the tech called as he left.

'Thank you, I will!' Damia said as she had heard Tower personnel do so many times. The tech left, shaking his head at the excellent manners of the child.

Quickly, Damia scampered into a personnel capsule, holding the door open long enough for all her feline entourage to enter. When the door closed, the capsule activated.

'Wollen Sie des Hilfr?' the computer asked politely.

'What?' Damia had never encountered any language other than Basic.

'How may I help you?' the computer replied, shifting languages.

'Oh, I know what to do.' The response fell into one of many distressed voice ranges the computer was programmed to detect. It set its System Alert flag. Had the passenger capsule been attached to the composite ship, a ship-wide alarm would have been sounded. As it was, the circuit was broken and would remain so until the capsule was connected with the ship.

Hurry, Bill, hurry! Ackerman called urgently. Afra must have picked up a bit of spill from his message for the Capellan raised an eyebrow. She's got that ship all put back together again and she's looking for something else to throw!

Done! Powers said proudly. Beside Afra the display board chirped, red lights turned green.

'The Altairian's ready, Rowan,' Afra informed her, mentally casting a call to the generator technicians to prepare for the load.

He glanced at a clock; Powers had left five seconds to spare.

'About bloody time!' the Rowan snarled. 'Wait a minute, the ship's not together yet!' I'm taking care of that now, Afra responded calmly.

Privately, however, he was irritated that the Rowan would choose to misinterpret his statement. She knew that he still had to stitch the ship together. He lifted the first capsule from its cradle but paused, there was something familiar about it.

I'll do it! the Rowan snapped waspishly, snatching the capsule brutally from his mental 'hands' 'Bumpy ride, Captain,' Ackerman warned on his comm link.

All three capsules were slapped on the stern of the Altairian freighter at once by the Rowan in her temper.

'Ready for boost,' the Rowan announced.

'Red light! Red light!' the captain shouted over his comm link.

But it was too late, the generators rose to a shriek and suddenly Afra!

A terrified voice cried from the void.

Damia! Afra's response was immediate, with a speed he had never needed before, he lurched for the fleeting child, twisting the Rowan's thrust and snatching Damia from the pod.

'Emergency!' Ackerman snapped. 'Kill the generators!' Get that ship back! the Rowan cried, flailing to maintain her grasp on the massive freighter.

Afra! Damia wailed.

I'm here! Afra called. Come here, baby. And there she was, falling into his arms. He grabbed her, clutched her fiercely.

'Afra!' Ackerman shouted, pointing to the Rowan. The Rowan was slumped, knuckles white as she strained by sheer power of will to hold the hurtling ship. With a cry of fear, Afra launched every ounce of his mental powers to one mind: Jeff, help!

And then he was there, a reassuring presence surrounding them all, body almost visible in the room.

Damia's safe! Help the Rowan! Afra cried, sagging to the floor, his arms lapping Damia's fright-stiffened body.

I'm here, luv. Let me in to help! Jeff called from across the void to Earth.

Ackerman watched amazed as near visible forces flickered through the Rowan and once again she and Jeff Raven joined souls.

'Gods above!' a voice crackled hoarsely through the comm link.

'In-again-out-again-gone-again Finnegan! What did you do with us?' Ackerman looked out above the Tower and saw the Altairian hovering in view. He let out a deep ragged sigh.

'All I can say is that I'm glad it worked out all right,' Captain Leonhard of the Altairian freighter said as the situation was explained to him. 'As far as my passengers know, we had a shipboard malfunction.' 'You're very kind, Captain,' Jeff Raven replied with sincere gratitude. They were in a shielded conference room in the bowels of Callisto Tower. Ackerman and Afra were also seated around the table. The Rowan and Damia were at home, both recovering from the traumatic incident.

'However, it worries me some - what would have happened if your wife had not kept "touch" with my ship?' Jeff? The touch of his mother's mind distracted him as he prepared an answer.

'Excuse me,' Jeff told the captain, closing his eyes to indicate that he was 'pathing to someone. I gather you heard it, too?

The whole galaxy heard that shriek. What happened? Isthia asked as calm as ever. Jeff sketched her the complete details quickly. Afra pulled her off the ship? Isthia exclaimed as Jeff finished.

What surprised me most was that he could! I don't know whether or not it's good that she obeyed our injunction that she doesn't bother her mother in the Tower. This was the moment she should have.

A two year-old child, even your Damia, would not understand such distinctions, Isthia replied in a sad tone, then she continued more briskly. What is surprising is how Afra got all that power to make the save. You say he nearly knocked the ship out of Rowan's hands?

it Jeff Raven frowned. I hadn't thought of that. He brushed frathers. He wants to know what would have happened f the Rowan had lost her grasp on his ship.

What will you tell him?

The truth, of course, Jeff responded promptly.

That his ship would have been lost in limbo for all time? I don't think that's something you want known.

No, it's not, Jeff said grimly. I'll tell him that we would have gone looking for him instantly.

That's clever and very true! His mother's tone became thoughtful.

Should I come? Angharad seems unusually distraught, not that I don't think I'd be in a similar situation. I'm forever thankful I had a planet on which to raise you lot.

This pregnancy has got her down, Jeff said, allowing his mother to see the anxiety he took great pains to hide from everyone else. But not quite as much as Damia appealing to Afra in extremis.

That's not quite it, I think, Isthia remarked in an enigmatic fashion that Jeff did not have time to query for, beside him, the space captain coughed politely. We'll take this up later. The frathers are hackling.

Well, don't you get upset, dear, Isthia said in farewell.

'Staff interruption,' Jeff remarked by way of apology to the waiting captain. 'As to your question: why we'd initiate a search immediately.

The captain heaved a sigh of relief. 'That's good to know.' 'And remember that we've never lost a ship,' Ackerman added jovially. 'You can't say that about the old reaction drive days when I dunno how many ships went missing.

Never heard from again.' 'No,' the captain responded, shaking his head, and glad he lived when ships could expect safe transfer, 'I suppose you can t.' He rose. 'I've taken up too much of your valuable time.' He nodded at Raven and the others. 'I don't like interrupting a Tower's busy schedule longer than necessary but I had to clarify the problem in my own mind. The passengers, you know, will need reassurance.' 'Of course they will,' said Jeff, rising to grip the captain 5

hand firmly, 'and please convey the Tower's apologies for that minor glitch.

'Minor?' Ackerman muttered under his breath as the door closed behind the captain. 'Minor? With one generator seized up and cargo to be cleared up all over the place?' 'Be grateful the damage can be cleared up, Brian,' was Jeff's last comment on the incident.

Pleading extreme exhaustion, Afra took the rest of the day off.

The curious chittering of Coonies greeted him as he entered his quarters. He smiled wanly at the anxious expressions on their masked faces as they pressed in on him.

Had Damia sent them to him? No matter, he appreciated their company which, since Damia had monopolized them as playmates, he had little of.

But he didn't have the energy to respond to their overtures and dropped down on to the wide couch to stare unseeing at the fireplace.

He was exhausted, but that was not why he needed time off. You could have killed her!

He shouted at himself in white hot rage. Do you realize the awful risk you took, grabbing at her? And grabbing at a child instead of the ship which was equally at risk?

The door chimed. 'Come in, Jeff,' Afra called, knowing beyond prescience whose hand was on the buzzer.

Jeff Raven, slightly haggard underneath his outward diffidence, entered Afra's apartment airily, noted the collection of Coonies and, receiving a gesture from the Capellan, took a seat in a chair opposite him.

'I know why you're here,' Afra said quietly. Without any regard for etiquette he summoned the nearest piece of paper to him - oddly it was a sheet of fine origami paper and a pen. He scrawled a date, a short sentence and signed it without any change in outward temperament.

'Here.' Jeff raised an eyebrow, examined the message, balled the paper up and threw it across the room. The Coonies took it as a toy and commenced to dribble it about the apartment.

'I've had enough guff from a distraught wife and hysterical daughter. I'm not about to tolerate nonsense from you, too, Afra.' 'But I broke the most important law of Tower protocol - I interrupted a thrust and nearly caused the loss of a passenger ship.' Jeff stopped him with a look. 'Saving my daughter in the process.' 'But what if you hadn't been able to retrieve the Altairian...' Afra persisted.

'We did but if you hadn't hauled Damia, she would have been very dead.' Jeff shuddered uncontrollably at that thought and saw that Afra had blanched to a grey.

'If I hadn't encouraged her to use the Coonies and Rascal as playmates, she wouldn't have taken to wandering about 'So it's the Coonies' fault, too?' Jeff asked amused.

'No, I'm at fault,' Afra said, unwilling to unload responsibility.

'Oh? And you led her to believe that the passenger capsule was a good place to play with the Coonies? C'mon, Afra, let's permit a little common sense to infiltrate the breast beating.' 'No matter,' and Afra dismissed his arguments with a chop of one hand, 'the fact is that I broke the gestalt with the Rowan - I could have killed her and still not saved Damia!' Afra's control broke with those last words, his voice rising in self-contempt and loathing.

Jeff waited for the yellow-eyed Capellan to collect himself.

'Have you thought to wonder where you got the strength to do what you did?' 'Where? What-?' Afra broke off, his eyes widening in surprise.

He looked to Jeff who nodded in slow affirmation.

'Consider what would have happened if Damia had tried the jump blind without your aid.' Afra did and his skin blanched pure white.

'I came here to thank you for saving my daughter's life,' Jeff said slowly, 'even if you had to get a two year old to help you save herself. And those bloody Coonies.' He paused, watching those same animals playing soccer with crumpled paper. He let out the rest of his held-in anger. 'I most certainly did not come here to listen to silly twaddle about who's guilty for what and who's responsible for everything else in this system!' He launched himself out of his chair suddenly, clasping Afra tightly by the shoulder, shaking him firmly in emphasis.

'You're family, man, right or wrong, up or down, in or out. Get it? Now, what have you got to drink? I'm parched,' Jeff grinned at him. 'All that fast talking with Captain Leonhard.' Afra instantly rose. 'I could make some tea or coffee?' Jeff cleared his throat noisily. 'Surely you've something stronger, Afra? Or maybe I should start sending you a case or two the way Reidinger did for Brian.

Though I've known a time or two when there's been some pretty good rotgut available on this station.

From the kitchen, Afra produced a clear bottle containing a clear liquid.

'I use it for colds. It's effective.

'Well, I felt damned near frozen today for a few seconds there,' Jeff remarked. He downed half a glass and his eyes bulged. 'First class,' he managed to say on a forcefully expelled breath. He waggled the bottle at Afra. 'You need some, too.

'No,' and Afra shook his head, making a cup of a soporific tea that had often soothed jangled nerves. The rotgut was too much of a stimulant in his present condition.

They arranged themselves in the high chairs surrounding the bar-height kitchen table.

'Have you eaten?' Afra asked as his manners continued to surface out of the reaction to the day's trials.

'No, have you?' Afra had to think for some moments before shaking his head.

'Let me,' Jeff offered, noting the other's exhaustion and added with a grin, 'I'm not a bad cook!' 'Chinese doesn't take much time,' Afra suggested.

'Rowan got you on that cuisine, too, huh?' Jeff said.

Then he shook his head. 'Actually, I think I'll have dinner sent up, if you don't mind.' Afra looked puzzled. 'Luciano has obliged me on several occasions.' 'He has?' Afra was surprised. 'Though I wonder about rich food on my stomach - it hasn't settled yet ---' 'I'll advise Luciano to prepare something restorative for nerve and mind.' Jeff sent a quick mental cast to Gollee Gren back on Earth, who had the good sense to swallow his curiosity and promised to expedite the request.

'While we're waiting,' Jeff continued, 'we can talk about our problem child.' 'She didn't mean t(H' Jeff raised a hand. 'I know that.' He sighed, an admiring look on his face. 'She's very much like her mother, you know.' 'But different.

'The Rowan can't handle her,' Jeff remarked almost rhetorically.

'Nor can Tanya.' 'Are you suggesting some hypnotics?' Afra wondered.

They had used only the most subtle hypnotic suggestions to keep Damia from becoming completely unmanageable.

Afra had instigated the first. This successful implant had been followed, always with Jeff Raven's full knowledge and approval, by others, but only after certain restrictions became necessary. As today had proved, Damia appeared to be one jump ahead of everyone's estimate of her capabilities. She was also growing increasingly resistant to the more 'delicate' suggestions and, with the Rowan firmly opposed to 'tinkering' with her children, stronger impositions would be noticeable.

Jeff sensed Afra's uneasiness and shook his head firmly.

'No, I don't think hypnotics are the solution.' Jeff? Isthia Raven's 'voice' distracted him.

'Mother, I'm here with Afra,' Jeff responded, speaking aloud for Afra's benefit and echoing telepathically Hello, Afra. Isthia responded, widening her telepathic 'voice' to include him. Are you recovering from that remarkable rescue?

Somewhat, Afra replied. He had long since given up at pretence when dealing with the Raven matriarch.

Except that he's torturing himself with guilt in the process, Jeff added.

Tut! Isthia chided. Guilt's for small souls, Afra. Your immediate response was nothing short of heroic and I won't allow you to escape that designation. I'm sure Jeff agrees.

Oh, I do, but he won't. He's threatened to resign.

Nonsense!

You are not Tower, Isthia Raven, Afra replied, rousing from his lethargy. You cannot be expected to know that I broke one of the strongest rules of Tower procedure Saving a child? Priorities always supersede mere procedure.

There was such a trenchant criticism in her retort for bureaucracy that Afra had to grin. At least you heard the child.

Damia did not call the Rowan, Afra replied glumly.

And how is Angharad? As if in answer to Isthia's question, the station's generators screamed to full power, crescendoed, then rose again to another crescendo and another as cargoes were hurled rapid-fire to their destinations.

I'd say she's decided to work off fright and anger constructively, Jeff responded mildly. He winced at the shriek of the generators as they hit launch peak. Fortunately Ackerman's giving her cargo. At that, some of the fragile goods are going to be worthless.

Oh dear! Isthia's response included a soft caress of understanding. What do you plan to do?

Afra and I were just discussing that, Jeff replied. We've ruled out more hypnotics.

Good. I doubt they'll work, the child's too quick. Across the light-years, Isthia frowned. What alternatives have you considered?

None, yet, Jeff replied. We were going to try the full stomach method of meditation. Then I'll have to see what the Rowan wants.

She may not want me, after this, Afra said dispiritedly.

Stop it, Afra Lyon! Isthia shot back hotly. Mind you, not even Angharad will tolerate your wallowing in such a slough of self-recrimination. Isthia paused briefly. Well, now, maybe a good yell will shock you back into appropriate manners, you Methody Capellans being so fierce about proper conduct. But then, Angharad's not likely to consider protocol more important than her daughter's life.

Afra was dumbfounded. But I nearly lost that Altairian freighter.

If Jeff hadn't. Lord above! He's really into this guilt trip, isn't he? Jeff Raven demanded rhetorically. If it would make you feel any better, I'm perfectly willing, as head of FT&T, to dock your annual salary for whatever amount you feel will compensate us for your interference with the conduct of traffic on this route.

But, as Earth Prime, I'm obliged to point out to you, Afra Lyon, that it's highly unlikely that Angharad Gwyn-Raven will accept your resignation. Jeff paused to regard Afra's unyielding expression and sighed in exasperation.

Isthia sighed, like an echo of her son. I'd thought that years of exposure to Reidinger and Angharad would have eroded your Methody upbringing. What is it offenders have to wear on Capella? Sackcloth and ashes.

Afra shook his head, then propping it into his hands, made a deliberate effort to break out of the fugue which tormented him.

Of course, actually, as Earth Prime, I'm not supposed to interfere with local Tower discipline so I won't.

That is, said Isthia, no further than you've already done.

Listen to the generators, Afra, and Jeff grinned. She's working it all out of her system. Maybe you should, too. No?

I guess that's only sensible. You're shagged.

Afra, dear, Isthia put in, I love you incredibly but you really must pull out of this negativity. It simply doesn't suit you.

Then she grew thoughtful and added, No, you're fighting something.

.. resisting with every ounce of your mind. That's why you're displaying so much negative emotion, isn't it?

Afra blinked. He had not actually been indulging in self-pity, or - the notion amused him - wearing mental sackcloth and ashes. In fact, he wondered that Jeff had not perceived what did, terribly, worry him.

Now that he had shown Damia how to use her innate telekinesis, he had opened an avenue of escape for her that would lead to far worse expeditions than today's. He'd already done the Gwyn-Ravens irreparable harm with that in utero link between Jeran and Cera: the link which caused that pair to so isolate themselves from Damia that she was excluded from any natural relationships with them, an outcast within the family unit that should have sustained her. She was also the youngest of the pre-school children but so much more advanced than the nearest child in age that she had no suitable playmates. If there had been even one station child who'd been compatible, he knew that Damia would have been content and certainly less trouble-prone. Afra groaned, shaking his head in his hands.

What is it? Jeff asked.

The Rowan will not like it, Afra responded obliquely.

His shielding was sufficient to keep long-eared Isthia from penetrating his tired mind. Or perhaps she had arrived at a similar conclusion.

Aha! she cried triumphantly.

I know that sort of an 'aha' from you, Mother and it means trouble for someone, Jeff said with a groan not unlike Afra's.

Wearily Afra explained. I was thinking that most of Damia's problems would be solved if she had other Talented children nearer her age and accomplishment. She is the youngest in daycare by over a year.

If she had a human playmate her own age - I don't want her down on Earth, Jeff began, and the only place where there' re more is-. He stopped short and regarded Afra solemnly. You're right, the Rowan won't like it. Not at all.

But she must see the sense of it, Jeff, Isthia said. This isn't the first time Damia has instinctively appealed to Afra as a source of reassurance and assistance. He can't be bailing her out of every little scrape. Or if he does- Isthia kindly left the thought unspoken but Afra could still see the Rowan's desperate lunge to grip the Altairian freighter and could imagine what would have happened had not Jeff Raven been there to help her prevent the freighter from plunging into the void unguided.

'How do you feel about this, Afra?' Jeff asked the tall Capellan softly.

Afra's response was a long time coming. 'It is not what I feel that matters, Jeff. It is what is best for Damia.' 'It'll be hard on all of us,' Jeff said in response to Afra's unspoken plaint. Mother, not a word of this to anyone!

Particularly not within Angharad's hearing. Thank goodness she's involved in slinging cargo about the galaxy, Isthia replied. There are quite a few Talented children nearby. And a shower of second and third cousins who could be. -- if anyone bothered to show them a thing or two. I'll see what can be contrived here on Deneb. Especially if Damia's just become kinetically active. More to Afra than to Jeff, she added, I promise that I will help this difficult grandchild of mine whom you find so adorable.

With strong and sensitive fingers, Jeff massaged deep into the Rowan's neck, kneading out the worst of the knots in her tense muscles late that night.

'If it hadn't been for Afra!' she exclaimed. 'Oh! That's it, right there!' She swivelled her neck to aid his efforts.

'Ah.' She pulled away from his grasp, taking his hands in hers and gently squeezing them. 'Oh, thank you! That's much better.

'Anything to oblige,' Jeff replied with a slight bow as he sat on the edge of the bed. The Rowan was below him on the floor, tucked between his legs. She jumped up, brushed his forehead with a kiss, then dragged him up as well.

Jeff responded with a firm hug and a tender expression.

The Rowan stopped him with a stern expression and a finger on his lips.

To his puzzled expression she said: 'Let's talk in the kitchen.' She turned and, fingers twined with his, dragged him after her by the hand.

The kitchen presented two good places to sit: the barstools and counter near the stove and the larger circular table where they usually ate (or tried to) breakfast with the kids. Jeff raised an eyebrow enquiringly at his love but she resisted his gentle probe until she dropped into one of the seats surrounding the kitchen table.

'Jeff, I'm scared,' the Rowan began. 'If it hadn't been for Afra, we might have lost Damia completely.' 'The ship was going to Altair, luv, not the Horsehead Nebula,' Jeff chided her gently. 'They would have brought her back.' 'What if she had panicked?' The Rowan wrung her hands together. 'What if Afra hadn't been there? Hadn't handled her kinetic thrust? She could have been lost for ever.' She flung out her hands despairingly.

Jeff captured one in both of his, stroking her palm gently with his fingers. He smiled up at her. 'But she wasn't, luv Afra caught her.' Her answer came in a sob. 'He did, didn't he? Why didn't she call me?' Her eyes watered. 'Oh, Jeff, am I such a terrible mother?' 'No!' Jeff's answer was emphatic, firm.

'Then why didn't she call to me?' the Rowan cried. She pulled her hand out of his.

'You were too intent, Rowan. You had a freighter to 'port-' 'So did Afra!' she broke in. 'He had that load too! But she called to him, not me!' Again she pulled her hand free to wave it over her head in more wild gesturing.

'Rowan, love, who knows what goes on in the mind of a two-year-old child - especially Damia's.' 'She's almost three!' the Rowan corrected him almost absently.

Jeff shook his head. 'No matter, she reacted out of panic, called to the first person to come to her mind. At least, she's learned not to bother you when you're working.' 'You see, I am a terrible mother!' she wailed.

Jeff let out a hot hiss of breath and turned away, angry with the Rowan for her futile outburst of self-contempt.

'Well, it's certain that you're not doing your new son much good, getting yourself all rolled up like this,' he remarked when he had schooled his emotions. 'Damia's a spirited child which makes her a handful.' He grinned, flicking a finger accusingly in her direction.

'If I recall correctly, you were just about the same age when you startled a whole planet which is much more than your daughter's done.

The Rowan blinked and managed a small chagrined smile. 'Our situations were somewhat different but I take the point.' Then she sighed in despair. 'Only I have no trouble coping with Jeran and Cera 'Who are even-tempered to the point of being phlegmatic and totally engrossed in their small selves to the exclusion, I might add, of their younger sister. Damia, on the other hand, requires the same delicate understanding you received from Lusena. But we don't have a Lusena here, who can devote every waking hour to the care and companionship of our Damia. Who is, it has been pointed out to me, very much like her mother. Opposites attract, luv, and alikes set sparks. And, in turning to Afra in time of crisis, Damia's only following her mother's good example, isn't she?' He waggled his finger at her. 'Imitation is the sincerest form of flattery.

Rowan drew breath to contradict, then let it out in a long defeated sigh. Their eyes locked and a long silence ensued. 'If it happened-' she began.

'It'll happen again,' Jeff finished, nodding. 'We may not be so lucky the next time.

'What can we do?' Jeff was a long time forming an answer and, when he did, his voice was rueful. 'For all my fingers in Talent pies, I haven't been able to find a T-6 nanny. And I've offered all kinds of enticements.' 'You didn't tell me Jeff rolled his eyes at her vehemence. 'We'd need someone anyway with the new one on the way. And come on, luv, after today, you wouldn't have complained if I had found someone suitable.' He exhaled and made a less palatable suggestion.

'We could try hypnotic'No!' the Rowan's response was emphatic. 'I will not have my children tampered with!' Jeff continued down the list of possibilities. 'What about a pukha?' 'Damia has not been orphaned.

.

'She has been through a rather traumatic experience 'She doesn't need a pukha. She's got a mother and a father.. -' 'Remotes, then?

There're some excellent robotic-' 'A robot minding Damia?' Rowan was horrified. 'A thing with no sensitivity Why even a pukha would be preferable!' "Bots can't be distracted from the job they're programmed for. Then Jeff shrugged that notion aside before the Rowan gathered her contradiction. 'I admit the notion doesn't appeal to me but-' 'Hideous notion!' 'There is one possible alternative,' Jeff began, careful to sound tentative.

'What?' 'It worked with me, Jeff began, judiciously choosing his words, 'though even a whole planet might not be large enough. We could ask Mother to take all three of them.

At least until you've delivered this child.' 'What? Admit to all Deneb and the Nine Star League that I can't look after my own children?' 'No, admit to the Nine Star League that you are having a bad pregnancy, yet you honour your commitment as Prime. But, because your children are special, you are willing to sacrifice your daily contact with them to ensure that they grow up as happily as possible,' Jeff corrected her. 'Besides,' he continued on a fresh breath, 'what do you care for the opinion of others as long as the children are happy?' 'But your mother can't possibly-' 'It's not just mother who'd be involved but my brothers, sisters, cousins and nieces,' Jeff corrected. 'They'd all be ecstatic. It'd be a good thing for Deneb. You know how many undeveloped Talents you found in the city. Even young as our kids are, they've had more training than anyone there. Deneb's been reorganizing - give the planet examples of Talented children to stimulate interest in that natural resource. And,' Jeff added, reaching over to pat her belly lovingly, 'you'll be able to concentrate on him wholeheartedly.' 'Maybe if I hadn't-' 'You got pregnant for Damia, if you recall,' Jeff gently reminded her. 'Mother would be over the moon. And Ian's a good lad: he'd certainly be happy to have nephews and nieces to play with!' The Rowan had to smile at the incongruity of a seven year-old uncle.

Ian was the last born of Isthia Raven and the first baby the Rowan had had a chance to handle. She could in fact visualize him as a good companion for six-year-old Jeran who was much too preoccupied with a sister fifteen months his junior.

'Jeran could do with an older brother and I'm sure Ian would be glad to oblige,' Jeff remarked, neatly accessing the Rowan's thoughts.

'Jeff-' the Rowan began in preparation for a protest.

He raised a hand to forestall her then placed it over hers.

'Sleep on it, love.' Gently he led her from the kitchen to their bedroom.

In bed, the Rowan rolled over. 'Jeff?' 'Mmm?' 'Don't mention this to Afra, just yet.' 'Of course not, not until you've made up your mind,' Jeff responded ingenuously.

As the week progressed and the ripples from Damia's 'accident' spread throughout the Nine Star League, with shipments late or lost, the Rowan found it increasingly harder to resist the suggestion.

'It's just that it's so unnatural!' the Rowan railed late one night to her husband. Eyes tear-rimmed, she turned to him. 'Why can't I look after my own daughter?' Jeff patted her soothingly. 'Hush, luv, you could, if you'd nothing else to do with your time. But look at the demands on you. Three highly Talented children, another on the way, long hours in an FT&T Tower.' 'But I don't want to be like Siglen Jeff regarded her with astonishment, then laughed, rocking her in his arms.

'Luv, you're no more like Siglen than... than Brian Ackerman's a Reidinger clone. Sometimes, when I think how that woman repressed you, babied you, gifted you with a load of rubbishy phobias, I wonder you've turned out as well as you have,' Jeff exclaimed. He cradled her possessively.

'You've chosen not to repress or overprotect your children and they're really rather marvellous. It's just that,' he added ruefully, 'a young Gwyn-Raven marvel is a handful for anyone!' The Rowan sighed in agreement.

'And you've three handfuls with a fourth on the way.' Jeff moved a hand to rub her belly soothingly. 'And then there's this disturbing report from Elizara.' 'Hmm?' The Rowan stirred uneasily at the change of topic. 'Oh? That, well, yes, she mentioned something about anomalies in my latest lab results.' 'Oh?' '7' The Rowan dismissed them. 'Elizara said she'd come back to me. It does happen.

'I'd really rather know a.s.a.p' Jeff said with gentle insistence.

'I can't think why,' and he grinned, 'but you're very important to me.' He draped an arm about her shoulders and peered down at her half-hidden face.

She gave him a long, enigmatic look out of the corner of her eye.

'I could...' she hesitated, 'take a leave of absence from the station!' Before he recovered from his surprise, she added, 'Afra could take over with you to give him a hand with the live and heavy stuff.' The suggestion bowled Jeff over. Sympathetically he drew her against him as he mulled it over, digesting the notion - and also the Rowan's reason for making such a drastic proposal. He knew how important the Callisto post was to her. And, in the normal way of things, she ran it faultlessly. He'd seen Reidinger's private notes about her management.

The Altairian freighter episode was unique in every way. He could feel through her that he had delayed an answer long enough to cause her to fret.

'You could. You're entitled to leave,' and he stroked her hair, grinning. 'None of us Primes take even a quarter of the leave we're allowed. I could transfer Saggoner and Torshan here... And, with the index finger of his free hand, he prodded the bedspread, miming the moves he would have to make. Then he frowned. 'Of course, they've become indispensable to Altair and that system hasn't got DEW yet.

Gollee could be spared to assist Afra here...' His voice dropped out while he considered the ramifications. Then he made eye-contact with the Rowan and tightened his arm about her. 'There's another possible solution. Mother!' The Rowan poked at him in disgust, physically and mentally because he was concealing something. 'Your mother can't run a Tower.' 'No,' and Jeff's grin was wide if the sense of him was tentative, almost wary, 'but she sure raises kids well.' 'After all she's had to raise? You'd saddle her with Damia ?' 'And Jeran and Cera,' and Jeff was dead serious now. 'If Damia has learned to 'port, that pair are too competitive not to mimic the kid sister's trick.' The Rowan's expression mirrored the fearful tension Jeff could feel in mind and body. 'We're so far from Deneb -' the Rowan began defensively. Abruptly she gave him a sharp poke in the diaphragm that made him grunt: her look altered as she jabbed him again, harder.

'You devious unrepentant dark! That was all pretence about shifting T-ratings. You had this in mind all along!

You're no better than Reidinger now you're Earth Prime.

The Callisto Station runs best through me... even when I'm spewing my guts with morning sickness.' Jeff coughed delicately.

'Actually, the highest efficiencies and throughput were achieved when I was Prime.' The Rowan glared at him, words unneeded. Jeff shrugged.

'Well, you could run Earth!' 'Jeff!' she growled, launching herself on top of him. The Rowan broke off the ensuing play fight with a groan. She pushed herself away from him.

'Are you OK?' Jeff asked solicitously for her complexion had turned an odd grey.

The Rowan nodded raggedly. 'Uh, our little one decided to join in the fun.' 'I'm calling Elizara,' Jeff said in tones that brooked no argument. 'And the children are going to Deneb.' When the Rowan started to protest, he held up a hand.

'This pregnancy is not proceeding normally and I won't risk losing you.' Elizara arrived so promptly that, despite the Rowan's protestations that Jeff was being overprotective, she was alarmed.

Elizara immediately reassured both parents that the child was not under any stress.

'You are,' she said, pointing an accusing finger at the Rowan.

'I've checked, and double checked, the lab reports of your latest tests. You have developed what's known as gestational diabetes, Rowan.' 'Diabetes?' Jeff sat down heavily on the bed beside his wife, drawing her into his arms as if his protection would mitigate the illness.

'It's not uncommon in pregnancies, though it usually manifests itself in the first or second. The condition passes when the baby is born.' She was readying a hypospray as she spoke. 'This injection should balance your glucose levels.' 'But I've always been so healthy.

I've had three easy pregnancies ---' The Rowan was stunned.

Elizara nodded. 'So you have. This time you're not. You will have to watch your diet and your workload. Stress must be reduced or you can do yourself, and the child, serious harm.' She turned to Jeff.

'I know that Callisto Station is a vital link in the FT&T network, but I have to insist that the Rowan's schedule is lightened.

'As of right now,' Jeff said and he 'pathed through the restriction to Afra and Brian Ackerman.

Elizara caught and held the Rowan's gaze. 'Right now, Rowan?' She nodded, no longer able to deny the consuming weariness she had struggled to ignore. She lay back on the pillows and wanted to weep.

'Oh, Jeff. I'm so sorry.' 'Sorry? What for?' Jeff enfolded her in his arms, alarmed to see tears streaming down her face. 'Not your fault, luv, that your body's done gone and let you down. Mind you, there're not many pregnant women who could hold a megatonne freighter in sheer determination not to let it drop forever out of sight. Not to mention all the other minor little crises you seem to deal with every day.

Then, too,' and his grin turned to sheer mischief as he realized that sympathy was not helping, 'if you'd allowed me to produce this embryo in the time-honoured fashion He cocked his head, hoping that he'd taken just the right teasing note with her.

She stopped crying and glared at him. 'You can't blame the whole thing on me! Sperm's sperm no matter how I acquired it.' Then she caught his expression and began to giggle. 'Oh, all right. I did do this on my own and I'm paying for it! And it is my fault. But you wouldn't help me. Damia is such a caring child. Look how she treats Rascal and the Coonies 'Paints them pretty colours 'But she cleaned them up. She just wants what Jeran and Cera already have: a sibling to care for and play with.' 'And you're having your own way, and now we'll take over,' he said, squeezing her affectionately and rubbing his cheek against hers. 'But we'll get you sorted out. We'll make sure that you get lots of rest, all the best exercise, he sniggered suggestively, 'and no hassles.' 'The children?' she asked almost fearfully, though she 'felt' that he had also taken that decision from her.

'Are going to Deneb. I've already talked with Mother and she's got some ideas that ought to solve her problems and our problems.

And,' he paused significantly, pulling back enough to catch her eyes with his, 'you'll agree to give yourself a long break before you ask me politely and in the normal fashion - for another baby.' He eyed her sternly 'Oh, I will!' the Rowan replied, earnestly wide-eyed. 'I will!

Afra caught up with Jeff Raven. Brian Ackerman was right behind him. 'She will be all right, won't she?' 'Elizara told you everything?' Jeff asked, allowing Afra to 'see' the concern he had kept from the Rowan. 'She must keep her metabolism balanced. Elizara had a private word with me before she went back to her clinic.

Rowan did not wait long enough between pregnancies to get her metabolism back to normal. If we keep her occupied with a decent workload, less than she does normally but enough to keep her pride intact, and if we keep her emotions in check - you know better than I, perhaps, how unstable her emotions have been in this pregnancy ' He grinned as Afra rolled his eyes expressively and Brian exhaled a long and hard-used sigh.

-- then she should be fine.' 'What'll happen next time?' Ackerman asked sceptically.

Jeff nodded. 'Elizara has hopes. Nothing can be done now but afterwards there are treatments which can prevent a recurrence.' Ackerman looked dubious. 'I thought that another pregnancy would always cause permanent diabetes.' 'Used to,' Jeff said. 'But Elizara assures me that this is no longer so. He regarded them thoughtfully.

'The children are going to Deneb. We'll have to do that quickly.' He looked directly at Afra.

'If it's to be done, 'were better swiftly done,' Afra said, agreeing and forcing a grin from Jeff at the misquotation.

'Today. Brian and I can organize transport.' 'Sure, sure thing,' Brian answered, wondering why he was being seconded to an unenviable chore, but Afra would have his own reasons.

'I'm not sure what tack to take in breaking the news to Damia,' Jeff said, twisting his mouth in dismay. 'The poor little thing's been so subdued lately.' 'I'd be surprised if she wasn't,' Afra said. 'How did you get the Rowan to capitulate the children away?' 'That freighter debacle helped almost as much as realizing she's risking the baby if she doesn't take care,' Jeff said. 'I just don't want Damia connecting her disobedience with her summary exile.' 'Why will she? If Jeran and Cera are to go with her,' Afra asked. 'Emphasize that the Rowan's sick - which Damia certainly senses already. Jeran and Cera probably do, too.

They may be self-involved but they're not insensitive to their surroundings.

'No, they're not.' In fact, Tanya had told Jeff how agitated the pair had been following the freighter episode.

And they had known that Damia had been in trouble.

They'd even spontaneously involved her in more than one game in daycare. 'When?' Jeff asked, his decision made.

'Today,' Afra responded immediately.

'Isn't that precipitous?' Jeff worried about the Rowan 5

reaction to what seemed, even to him, like an almost indecent haste.

'Your mother is ready and waiting,' Afra added, giving Raven the distinct impression that Afra had been in private collusion with her.

Jeff Raven sighed, nodding and thinking of all the matters awaiting his attention back on Earth. 'Very well.

Let's do it today then.' Damia had practised very hard at being good for two whole days. Tanya collected her in the morning because Damia already knew that Mother was very tired and was resting all day in bed. Damia wondered if something was wrong with the Tower. Mother never stayed away from there for very long. So, because Daddy had said that Damia must be quiet, she expanded that request to include her hours at the daycare. Occasionally she would glance around to be sure that Tanya noticed how well she was behaving.

She had not meant to cause trouble; she had just got frightened when the ship lurched so suddenly. Her voyages had always gone smoothly. Then she had 'felt' her mother involved in the lurching and she became afraid that Mommy was mad at her. So, she'd had to call Afra for help. She was sure that he would explain to Mommy and then everything would be all right.

But everything was still not right; Damia suppressed a momentary surge of anger at Afra for not making everything better.

Damia? Someone 'called' to her. Afra! It was Afra!

She turned around. 'Afra!' she called aloud, rising to run over to him. She knew she was supposed not to 'call' rather than speak but she could not help a little hopeful echo. Afra?

Afra squatted down and hugged the small child.

'You've come to play with me because I've been very good and quiet,' she cried in happy expectation. She gave him a coy, beguiling look, blue eyes peering up through jet black hair, trying to think which game she could involve Afra in.

'Tanya said you have indeed been quiet and well mannered,' Afra replied. 'So if we can play something while I talk with you Happily Damia led him over to her corner, a small hand wrapped around his big finger. 'We can play station,' she decided, having discarded several other possibilities as they walked. 'I'll be the Prime and you be my twic.

'Twic?' 'Two-I-C?' Damia tried again.

Afra chuckled. 'Second-in-command! Certainly,' he gave her a mock bow from his cross-legged seat on the floor, 'your wish is my command.

Damia placed her hands on her hips and cocked her head at him irritably. 'Afra!' 'What?' Damia waggled a finger at him. 'You know.

Now play right.' Afra obliged, working up a manifest of cows, cats and clam chowder for their first load. They did three loads before Afra decided that she was sufficiently relaxed.

'Where's the next load?' Damia asked, a pout at the ready.

'How would you like to be a load? A proper one, just like those you've seen leave the station.' Damia hesitated, not sure she really wanted to play in the pods right now. 'You'll have a proper carisak to take on board for your trip.' 'Trip?' Damia was not enthusiastic but she knew she could trust Afra. If he felt she should be a proper load 'Jeran and Cera will be going too.' Damia was not happy about that.

She'd rather do something that they didn't. They were so mean about sharing with her - though they'd been much nicer the past two days.

'Are you?' she asked, looking up hopefully but Afra shook his head. 'Then I don't want to.' 'Ah, but you see, your grandmother has especially invited you to come. You'll like her.' Suddenly sensing that Afra was not playing the sort of game she liked, Damia threw herself at him, clutching his neck fiercely with her arms. 'I want you!' Afra gently disengaged her, his hands wrapped around her tiny waist, holding her from him so that he could keep eye-contact as well as reinforce his words through touch. 'Damia, you need to go on this trip,' he said in his gentlest, most persuasive tone. 'Your grandmother has made such special arrangements for you.' He ignored her pout. 'You'll have cousins your own age... cousins who'll include you in all their games. Indeed, knowing you, you'll probably be leader.' 'I would?' Damia was captivated by that prospect. Being youngest, she wasn't allowed to lead anything here.

'You'll have a whole planet to play on, not a bunch of domes that restrict you to one measly play area and dank tunnels.' 'But I like the tunnels 'That's only because you haven't seen the wonders of a planet that your Uncle Ian-' 'Uncle?' She wrinkled her nose in perplexity.

'Your Uncle Ian. He's seven.' 'He's not my age then. He's older than Jeran.' She frowned suspiciously at him. 'Who's my age?' Afra laughed because he hadn't enquired about such details. 'Well, there're so many I quite forget who's who and how old but your grandmother will introduce you.

She's waiting for you, you know, on Deneb. Where your father lived as a child.' 'I'm staying here,' Damia declared stoutly, crossing her arms over her chest in bold emphasis.

'Which toys do you want to bring?' Afra asked, looking around at the pile.

'Why can't I stay here?' Afra considered his next argument.

'Well, you know that your mother's not well?' When Damia nodded, her little face assuming a solemn expression, he went on, 'It's because of your brother to be.' 'I'm going to have a brother?' Damia brightened considerably.

Afra nodded wisely. 'Don't tell your mother I said so, but yes.' 'Will he play with me?' 'I imagine so,' Afra returned. 'Are you going to be nice to him?' Damia did not commit herself immediately. 'Will he play with me like Jeran plays with Cera?' 'That depends on you,' Afra replied, giving her a quizzical look. 'If you love him like Jeran loves Cera then he'll play with you the same way.

'I'll love him!' Damia declared excitedly. 'When am I going to see him?' 'Well, he hasn't been born yet-' 'You mean he's in Mommy's belly?' Afra nodded. 'And she's got to get him out?' Afra nodded again. 'Is that why we're going to Gran?' Again Afra nodded. 'Then why didn't you say so?' Afra, who had already had experience with her precocity, wondered why he had tried the oblique approach with her.

'We started to play a game of stations, remember?' he said, teasingly. 'Let's gather your toys.

'Don't my cousins have toys?' 'Yes, but surely you'll want to share yours with them?' 'I guess so, if they're going to play with me,' Damia replied cheerfully.

Damia's mood changed perceptibly when it was time to strap down in the personal capsule. 'I don't want to go by myself,' she cried to Afra. Jeff Raven, lips drawn thin in tight control, stood close by.

'Daddy, make Afra come with me?' 'No, honey,' Afra told her.

'I've got to stay here with your mother.' He picked her up and set her beside her brother and sister, strapping her in against her squirming.

'I don't want to go!' she declared.

What about your brother? Afra asked her privately.

Don't want a brother! I want you! She shot back so strongly that Afra was startled by her vehemence.

The 'noise' attracted the Rowan who 'ported in the direction of her daughter's 'voice' Damia? What's wrong? What's going on here?' she demanded. Her eyes widened as she took in the tableau.

'Jeff! Not yet! It's too soon!' 'Luv, you should be resting.' 'You weren't going to let me say goodbye?' the Rowan cried.

Jeff took her hands in his, shaking his head. 'You're not saying goodbye. You're saying bon voyage. The children will only be in Deneb. You can hear them no problem.' 'Jeff!' she started, accusingly.

She saw Afra. 'You!

You're in it too!' 'Rowan-' Afra started, stepping towards her, arm outstretched beseechingly.

'No!' 'Mommee!' Damia cried, struggling against her straps.

'Oh Jeff, how could you?' the Rowan gasped.

And then Damia disappeared out of her straps and into Afra's arms.

The Rowan's eyes widened in shock as she saw her youngest disappear, then her jaw dropped as she saw where she reappeared. She turned to Jeff, hurt amazement on her face.

'She's got the hang of it, hasn't she?' Jeff told her quietly.

'What if she were to jump into the vacuum?' The Rowan blinked, wetted her lips and looked back to her daughter, speechless.

Say goodbye to your mother, Damia, Afra said on the tightest mental band he could exercise, and with such authority that he felt her objections melting in the absence of any option. He took her to her parents.

And my brother? Damia begged in what Afra knew was a last ditch delaying tactic.

Very quietly, he said, without letting up on his authority.

Damia stretched from his arms to wrap her own around her mother's neck. 'I'll be good, Mommy,' she promised, planting a pair of wet lips firmly on her mother's cheek.

'For my brother.' The Rowan hugged her back, suppressing the agony of separation. Any weakness on her part would undo all the preparation Afra had managed. 'I'm only just a thought away, Damia dear.' 'Even in the Tower?' Damia asked anxiously.

The Rowan closed her eyes briefly against that soft query.

'I promise, darling, that while you're away - and, if you're a good girl - you can even speak to me in the Tower.' 'Oh!' Damia's voice was charged with relief and she smiled broadly. 'Daddy, too?' 'If you remember that we might be too busy to talk long,' Jeff said, holding up a warning finger.

'Afra?' 'Well, minxlette, I'm not as good at long distance as your parents are, but I'll listen real hard.' 'I'll call real big.' Then she squirmed to be released from Afra's restraint.

He sensed what she wanted to do and let her down. She put her hands on her mother's abdomen and said with an amazingly narrow shaft of thought, I'll be the best sister anyone's ever had. Her face radiated a contentment that he had never seen on her face since her baby days.

To his intense surprise, Afra became aware that neither the Rowan nor Jeff had heard Damia's promise. He was more relieved than ever that she'd be away from the hazards of a domed station.

'Now,' he said, taking charge of matters again, 'let's just get you settled,' and he picked her up and started to settle her back into the capsule.

'When can we go?' Jeran demanded with a flavour of impatience for all this delay Cera glared briefly at Damia.

'As soon as I'm feeling better, your father and I will come visit...' the Rowan began, speaking to forestall tears, so she was grateful for the suggestion Afra 'pathed to her, '... and see you being the leader of all your new friends ' But she fully intended to tell him just what she thought of his part in this hasty exile of her children.

'Will you visit me too, Afra?' Damia demanded.

'Of course,' he replied, 'we're to play stations, aren't we?' As the capsule closed, her submission vanished. 'No!

NO!' she shrieked, voice muffled inside the capsule.

Damia! Jeff had been ready for such a reverse and he clamped such a hold on her mind that she was rendered powerless.

Afra! Afra! I want to stay! Please? I'll be good.

Ready the generators, Jeff ordered the Tower personnel.

Afra?

The generators rose in pitch.

Be good now, sweetheart! Afra felt her fear, like an icicle against his heart but he firmed his mind against her plea, trying to deny how treacherous she must perceive him.

Aaaffffrrra! The squeal of the generators rose to a crescendo.

The capsule disappeared. The generators wound back down.

They're here! the distant voice of Isthia informed them calmly.

My, can she scream!

Afra let out a long-held breath in a ragged sigh.

The Rowan threw herself into Jeff's arms, weeping bitterly. 'I feel the most complete traitor,' she cried.

'You're not the only one,' Jeff replied, noticing the haggard look on Afra's face. 'But we had to. You know that.' 'I do, but oh, Jeff!' Suddenly the Rowan looked up, her expression radiant, despite the tear stains. 'I can hear her!

I can still hear her!' Afra turned away. 'I can't!' And he 'ported himself back to his resoundingly lonely quarters, hearing Damia' s prattle echoing from every corner.

It had taken Deneb seven years to recover from the Beetle attack.

City was a thriving centre for the whole planet which now had two other metropolises: Riverside and Whitecliff. Both were seaports located close to extensive mining operations on the other continents.

Roads were still mostly the illusion of roads elsewhere in the Nine Star League, but sea-going vessels plied a great trade on the high seas and railroads connected smaller villages along the coastline to the larger cities.

Deneb's Tower was located at the same site the Rowan had renovated so many years ago and it was near here that Isthia and the Raven clan had their town dwelling.

This was built around the original smaller house that had partially survived the Beetle bombardment. Wings had been added on as the Raven clan grew and expanded. These now enclosed a large central garden, perfect for a play area.

The dwelling was on a large parcel of land, with hills rising through forest to one side, farm land and barns on another two and the City skyline visible in the distance.

Many lessons had been learned since the Expansion from Earth.

Denebians, indeed all colonists, had a greater feel of husbandry for the land than had early Earth dwellers.

Forests had been marked off as reserves for oxygen generation, mines were always tunnelled when bacteria leeching techniques were not viable, and, most importantly, the clean quiet flitter for medium and long distances had replaced noxious internal combustion-powered, wheeled vehicles. Shorter trips made use of small, sturdy and tractable ponies who thrived on the rough grazing and wandered unchecked in small herds.

Deneb, and all colony worlds, started life indebted for the large cost of the initial colonization of the planet. As such, all colony worlds sought rapidly to provide export goods while at the same time limiting imports to the bare essentials. The best export items were those that commanded the greatest prices for the least effort to ship.

Rare or high quality finished goods, objects d'art, music, literature all fitted the category perfectly. Knowledge and useful new engineering techniques, patentable to the planet of origin, were even more exportable but much rarer - the great engineering solution of one planet was often inapplicable on another. Raw materials, valuable but bulky, were a poor last choice of a cash-starved colony.

Talent, particularly those rare people who could hurl objects through the depths of space instantaneously, was the greatest boon to a colony's cash flow. Talent was in short supply everywhere and in every kind, from the metal finder who could locate high grade ore precisely and perform remote assays which would cost a regular crew millions of credits and years of time in scant seconds, to the electronic specialist who could detect faults in circuitry by its 'feel' The Raven clan had produced a number of such Talents but, until the Penetration had tapped these hidden resources, such natural abilities had gone relatively untrained. The Rowan had identified some useful faculties besides the medical Talents of Asaph and Isthia's sister, Rakella, when she'd had to rebuild the Tower in the days after Jeff's accident.

Sarjie had a metal affinity which she now used in the rich Benevolent Mines that supplied much of Deneb's cash balance. Morfanu had been struggling to manage kinetic Talent and had been tested as a T-3. He now handled most of the FT&T transfers to the planet, though he needed assistance.

Besseva was telepathic but her range was limited.

Of the untrained Talent of Deneb, Isthia Raven was the strongest but she knew herself that she dabbled in too many things to perfect one. So, to bring her grandchildren here in the safest possible fashion, she had assembled everyone on Deneb known to be Talented.

She'd hovered so closely in Morfanu's mind when he 'caught' the capsule from Callisto, that he'd had to kick her shins to divert her.

It took no Talent at all to hear Damia bawling or the fierce remonstrations of her brother and sister.

'Why are you crying? You're perfectly safe! And it's your fault Mother and Father sent us away!' irs NOT! IT'S NOT! Damia was as loud mentally as physically.

No, it's not, Grandson Jeran. I, your grandmother, specifically invited Damia, and you and your sister, to come live with me on Deneb.

To Isthia's relief, Damia's bowling abated.

I had to argue long and hard with your parents to allow this visit. Now, are we going to start off on the right foot by being pleasant, or do I send away the ponies I brought for you to ride home on?

Ponies? Damia asked, now merely sniffling.

Ponies? And Cera showed a glimmer of interest. What kind of ponies? The kind Damia's always playing with? Her tone was scornful as well as sceptical and her sudden very private aside to her brother on this matter caused Isthia some concern. That bond she and Afra had initiated was far stronger than she'd been given to understand.

Why don't you all put on your best faces and party manners, and we'll see, shall we? Damia? I've told everyone about you and how wonderfully well-mannered you all are. Don't disappoint me. Isthia employed the same positive tone she had always found useful in dealing with her dozen children.

These three, after all, were also Ravens. Are you ready?

She motioned for her son, Ian, to stand beside her. He'd been jiggling with impatience to see his nieces and nephew.

Being the youngest in his family, he envisioned the fun he'd i86

have bossing someone around the way his older siblings had bossed him.

The capsule split, the top rising upwards to reveal the inside.

Isthia was relieved to see that, while not beaming, Damia was attempting to smile around her wide-eyed curiosity.

'Welcome to Deneb,' Ian piped up on cue, he looked to each one in turn, 'Jeran, Cera, Damia. I'm Ian, your uncle.' He did not giggle but his eyes were bright with suppressed laughter. He swept an arm back to his mother in continuation of his carefully rehearsed greeting. 'And that's Morfanu who 'ported you here, and your Great Aunt Rakella, and-' 'Ponies?' Cera said, looking accusingly at Isthia, 'you promised ponies 'We did, didn't we?' Isthia said mildly when Ian looked at her for guidance. He hadn't introduced half those he was supposed to. 'As promised, ponies,' and she nodded to Ian.

Grinning from ear to ear because he could get to show off so soon, Ian 'called' the ponies from where they browsed on the grass growing among the cradles. Obedient to the summons, they trotted to him while the children, still in the capsule, stared with wide open mouths and eyes at the little troop.

Damia was out of the capsule like a shot, Jeran and Cera not a split second behind her. But Damia stopped just short of the first pony, taking in his flaxen mane and tail which Ian had plaited that morning, the darker 'beer' of his hide, his dainty hooves, his bright black eyes, alert with interest.

'Just hold out your hand - flat so Jupiter can't catch your fingers - and let him sniff you,' Ian instructed.

'What's this one's name?' Cera asked, already holding her hand out to the lighter-coloured mare nearest her.

'And this one?' Jeran asked, wanting his answer from Ian before Cera had hers.

'The mare is Birdie, Cera, and, Jeran, your gelding is Cricket,' Ian said, genuinely enjoying his role.

If Afra had been told about the ponies, Jeff, Isthia remarked to her son later that night when her grandchildren had finally been put to bed, there'd've been no fits on leaving.

I forgot you still had to use those wretched beasts, Jeff said ruefully for he had stopped riding the moment he had learned how to teleport accurately. Afra will be immensely relieved. He was talking about sending out a Coonie or two to keep her from being too lonely.

Thank you, no. There's enough livestock to be cared for about the place. As it is, it took a lot of persuasion to get Damia to sleep in her bed instead of out in the paddock with Jupiter.

Jeff chuckled. Jupiter?

Yes, Damia was so pleased by that. She has a remarkable appreciation of her environment, doesn't she? Anyway, reassure Angharad that all's well.

I will, but I may not mention that she's been displaced by runty-legged manure-makers.

The Rowan knew that the children had arrived safely and were settling in but she'd given himself and Afra such a bollocking for the way they had practically abducted her children that he decided not to risk another storm.

She was resting now, more deeply than she had in many months.

That was something he wouldn't mention though he was intensely glad to see how effective the lifting of her maternal burden had been.

Those run legged manure makers are the best possible antidote for unsealed kids. Damia had firm control over Jupe in about five minutes.

Cera wasn't all that pleased with the effect of a long ride on her tender behind but Besseva slathered her with an appropriate salve.

Jeran's being pompous. He's so much like your father at moments!

Jeff chuckled because he knew exactly what his mother meant. Then I shall expect to see him much improved when we get a chance to visit.

Ah, about that! Leave it a while. Angharad really oughtn't to travel - too much stress. And let the children settle in completely.

Rhodri and Ian took half a dozen tapes which I'll get Morfanu to zip off to you. That should reassure you both.

I am, I am, Mother, and can't thank you enough for pitching in like this.

Oh, I had my reasons.

But when Jeff probed to find out what they were, Isthia refused to admit him.

Besseva, noting Isthia's smug grin, raised her eyebrows enquiringly.

'I've reassured the doting papa that his little ones are safely asleep in their cots,' Isthia said and resumed her smile slightly.

'We're going to have to watch that youngest one,' Besseva said.

'Oooh, but she's powerful.' 'Hmmm, yes.

'But really, Isthia, aren't they a bit young?' 'Not at all,' Isthia replied stoutly. 'They'll have fewer inhibitions.' 'And get into more trouble, too.

'Besseva, we've got to develop our own Talents, and that requires Talent. One blind man can't lead another effectively.' 'But they're children!' Besseva's voice rose slightly in protest and Isthia, mentally and physically, shushed her.

Ian was working in the corner, giving his niece's saddle a good soaping to soften the leather.

'And a little child shall lead them,' Isthia said, her eyes sparkling.

'You are the absolute end, Isthia Raven.

'On the contrary, I'm the beginning,' Isthia replied.

'And, if I'm going on as I mean for them to begin, I'm going to need a good night's sleep.' She gave a gusty sigh.

'Why do children have the reserves of energy people my age so desperately need?' 'Huh!' Besseva said in contradiction to that complaint.

Lying in a new bed into which she had been tucked by her fascinating grandmother, Damia was still reviewing all the wonderful things that had happened since the capsule had opened. Being on Deneb was much better than hearing Daddy talk about it. And why hadn't he ever mentioned that Deneb had ponies? She sighed and, to make sure he was all right, she 'reached' to touch Jupiter. He'd stopped eating and was idly flicking his tail, as much to discourage the minute nightfliers from settling on Birdie's head as to keep them off himself.

His mind was drowsy with sleep.

Just like Rascal's when he was curled up on her bed. Was Rascal missing her? Damia wondered. He'd have no-one to sleep with. A sad feeling made her throat constrict. Poor Rascal! Maybe, just tonight, Daddy would let him sleep on the foot of their bed. She loved having a pony but a pony couldn't sleep at the foot of her bed and she missed the comforting presence.

'Mrrow?' came a plaintive call from outside her door.

Damia had been given a proper bed without railings.

She crawled out from under the covers and opened her door.

'Mrrr?' 'Who are you?' Damia called sleepily. A large orange and white cat marched into the room, rubbing himself against her leg. 'Oh, you're beautiful.' Though the animal was as tall as her waist, Damia hoisted him into her arms, once again exerting kinetic energy without realizing what she'd done in her wish to do what she needed. 'There,' she said, '9' glared ferociously at Damia so that she knew she'd suffer his retribution, too, if she tried any of her tricks.

Damia was far too entranced with her new friends to think of any 'tricks'. She listened, very carefully, to the instructions Linna Maybrick gave the class - hearing it on two levels - and sometimes puzzling at the contradictions.

But when she saw the others obeying what was said aloud, she followed their example.

At the morning break, she let Jorg lead the way to the playground where the four tablemates played together, climbing all over the 'mountain' and down into the 'tunnels' and swinging over the rivers' and revelling in noise and happy dirtinesses, for the play area was dirty and full of shavings.

Linna Maybrick, their teacher, watched carefully from the doorway.

Alla climbed to the top of the 'mountain' and hesitated for a moment at the top of the slide down for it was, for a child, a huge drop. One of the more aggressive older boys was behind her and he lost patience, giving her a push on her way. His thrust was off-centered and caught Alla just as she was bent to sit on the slide. Thrown off-balance, she teetered to one side, a two-metre free-fall to the playground below.

Alla screamed. Damia, who had been waiting at the bottom, gave a horrified shout, then 'concentrated'. Linna, who had started running the moment she saw the boy shove Alla, came to an abrupt halt as the little girl bounced gently on to the hard ground. Damia rushed over to her friend and helped her up.

'Are you OK?' Alla nodded shakenly. 'I got pushed.' Then she cocked her head. 'Did you do that?' Damia turned suddenly shy. If she admitted to doing any 'tricks' she wouldn't be able to ride Jupe. 'Do what?' she asked ingenuously.

Alla narrowed her eyes at Damia. 'Well, someone did something.

Jorg, who had watched the whole incident wide-eyed, looked at Damia critically. 'You're not from here.' 'I am, too. I live with my grandmother and my uncle.' She pointed towards Ian who was playing with older boys on an adjacent field. Jorg peered in the direction but his eyes were suspicious when he turned back to her.

'I know about the Ravens. My dad says they're all FT&T freaks.' Damia didn't know the word 'freak' but she did know FT&T. Everyone she knew worked for FT&T and were proud of it.

'Why, thank you very much,' Damia said while Alla gawked at her in stunned surprise.

So did Jorg, having anticipated a far different response to the insult.

'But you're a freak!' he shouted and she picked up on the pejorative this time.

'There's no need to shout,' Damia said, dismally aware that the three of them were suddenly the centre of attention.

Abruptly Jeran and Cera made their way through the tight knot of children.

'Who called my sister a freak?' Jeran demanded, fists clenched at the ready. Beside him, Cera assumed a similar stance. Jorg nervously retreated.

'Actually, he said I was an FT&T freak, Jeran,' Damia replied, worried lest her brother realize she'd done something that could be accounted a 'trick' even if it had saved Alla from injury.

Jeran frowned intently at his sister for a moment and then, bracing himself again, unerringly settled on Jorg as the culprit. But the recess bell sounded and Jorg was the first one into the school.

Back in class, Jorg quickly spread the rumour that Damia was a freak. She felt miserable, especially as Alla wouldn't even look across the table at her. On the other side, Jenifer's grin turned slightly malicious and she kept staring at Damia.

When Isthia collected her after school, she naturally asked how Damia had liked her first day at school, and was taken aback by the fierce answer.

'I hate it. I'm not going back.' On the flitter ride to the Raven compound, Isthia deftly drew out the reason for Damia's discontent.

She was both saddened and angered that her grandchild had had such an unfortunate encounter on her very first day.

'Jorg is wrong. You are not a freak,' Isthia assured her, 'even an FT&T freak. And you were very quick about saving your friend from injury.' 'She's scared of me now and Jenifer just stares at me, grinning!' 'Stare back at her and I'd suggest you give Alla a little time to get over being rescued. She must have been surprised to bounce on the ground when she expected to crash.' Damia considered that.

'Yes, I guess she was more surprised than anything else. Least she wasn't hurt.' Isthia ruffled her hair affectionately. 'That's right.' Damia regarded her grandmother solemnly. 'Then rescuing Alla isn't a real trick and I can still ride Jupiter?' The incident, as embellished by Jorg, set Damia apart from the others and while in time even Jorg was glad of her unprejudiced use of Talent to protect her playmates from the worst ravages of the playground, Alla was willing only to be her acquaintance. The lack of a close friend disturbed Damia and worried Isthia. To compensate, the youngster would often accept greater challenges in school and, at home, would often take off on Jupiter for lengthy adventures.

I fear she is a solitary soul, Isthia remarked in a conversation with her parents.

That's not a Raven trait! Jeff, who had always had a pack of boys to lead on excursions, replied.

No, its more apt to be a Greyn trait, I'm afraid, the Rowan said bitterly. I thought that it was just being Ward of the Planet and having much older foster siblings, but perhaps it is a personality thing.

You bestow your affections frugally, Angharad dear, Isthia said gently, but where you do you are selfless.

But I was so lonely! the Rowan cried. I didn't want Damia to be lonely, too.

It may be in Damia's nature to be solitary, Isthia replied.

But she's not lonely. There's Jupiter to ride about on, most of the workdogs when they're free, and Marmalade on her bed at night.

She's not lonely. She does have companions at school even ,f she hasn't established a true-blue friendship. That'll probably take a little more time.

Well, maybe she'll be happier for a brother.

How are you feeling? Isthia asked hopefully.

The Rowan responded with a mental sigh. Jeff added, She hates to admit it but she's been doing much better since the children left.

Isthia could feel the mental nuzzle Jeff sent to his love. She can concentrate on growing this new one, can't you, luv?

I should be able to manage as much as you did, Isthia! the Rowan complained guiltily Ah, yes, but I was not running a power Tower nor was my husband absent all day long on another world. Then again, as soon as my el&st was able, I had him minding babies. Your Jeran's a solidly responsible boy, Angharad, and I love him dearly but he's not quite ready to baby-sit Dam:a.

The Rowan chuckled at the thought of the self-contained Jeran trying to handle his wild-mooded sister. Well, maybe he'll be able to sit for this one.

Damia awoke with a gasp. Someone was crying. Someone felt bad.

Instinctively, with a sense of compassion which was fundamental to her nature, Damia reached out to calm the person. Her mental 'hand' stretched far, farther than she actively remembered. Whoever was crying was upset because it was cold and wet and had been warm just a few moments ago. Something rough was rubbing against it.

It's a towel! Damia exclaimed as she identified it. It's all right, you'll be warm and dry in a moment!

The someone was awestruck.

It's all right, Damia repeated soothingly. You'll be all right now.

The someone was calmed, felt sleepy. Warm and sleepy.

Damia continued to send soothing thoughts, herself growing drowsy in her efforts to send the other to sleep.

She yawned, turned over and drifted off.

'I've never seen anything like it!' Elizara exclaimed to Jeff Raven as they took a late celebratory libation, 'That child was all set to cry his lungs out and then-' Her eyes narrowed suspiciously. 'Did you do anything?' 'Me? No,' Jeff replied, confused. 'I had thought it was you. It certainly wasn't the Rowan.' 'No!' Elizara agreed. 'Not under anaesthetic.' 'Will it take her long to recover from the Caesarean?' Jeff asked, the thoughts turning from his newest son to his greatest love.

Elizara shook her head, grinning. 'This isn't Deneb where some of your obstetrics are still pretty archaic.

Microlaser surgery heals seamless. She'll be fine in three to four days.' She raised a cautioning hand. 'But it will be months before the abdominal muscles recover from the intrusion.' 'So if it wasn't you, it wasn't me and not the Rowan, who?' Jeff, reassured, returned to the original topic.

'Afra?' Elizara shook her head. 'It was a female touch.

'Then it was Damia!' Jeff announced firmly. 'That little minx!' 'Really, doting Daddy,' Elizara said in one of her rare moments of mischief, 'isn't that a long way for such a young child?' Jeff shook his head slowly, his smile rueful. 'I don't think any place is a long way where Damia's emotions are concerned.' For the first few months of young Larak's life, both his mother and father 'felt' his sister touch his mind, causing him to smile.

'Has to be wind,' Brian replied sceptically when the Rowan remarked on her daughter's range.

Afra would smile. 'She promised she'd be the best sister ever.

'It's not as if he has much conversation, Afra,' Brian protested.

'Ah, the heart needs no words,' Afra replied and, with a totally uncharacteristically dramatic gesture, placed his hand on his heart.

Then he picked up the colourful origami birds he was arranging as a mobile for Larak and, with delicate movements, tied them to the string harness.

Brian shot the Rowan a puzzled look before he left the Tower.

However, at some point in Larak's first year, Damia found out that Alla loved ponies as much as she did, and the two became inseparable.

The incidence of contact diminished slightly but occasionally, and for no apparent reason, Larak would giggle. His laughter was so infectious that he could set off anyone else in the house. But every time his parents, or Tanya or Afra, tried to explain these bursts of hilarity, they found nothing, not even Rascal, to account for them.

'Damia checking in,' became the standard explanation.

'A merry child,' his mother said, 'is a double delight.' Afra forebore to mention that Damia had been a merry child, too. But he did not object to merry Larak and he had become adjusted to the lack of Damia in his life.

'He's here!' Damia cried excitedly, turning to her teacher 'My brother's here!' 'Shush, Damia,' the teacher scolded, for the girl was old enough to respect classroom manners. 'Continue with your studies.