You can see him after school.' Damia fidgeted her way through school and burst out to the waiting area. Rakella was there.

'Isthia sent me,' she said, grinning at Damia's radiating excitement. All the girl knew was that she would be seeing her beloved brother. Today, even Jupiter was cast in shadow. Damia hopped into the flitter, practically 'pushing' Rakella to exceed the speed limits in the built-up area. She bubbled all the way back to the Raven compound and burst out of the flitter almost before Rakella had set it safely on the ground.

'Where is he?' she called excitedly, but unerringly she headed toward the kitchen, slamming open the door. She stood there a moment.

'Larak!' What young Larak saw was a slender figure a head taller than himself with sparkly blue eyes and long black hair.

What Damia saw was a splendid dark-haired brother. She held out a hand entreatingly, sensing his sudden shyness.

Cautiously, the toddler took it.

'Now that you're here, c'mon!' Damia cried. 'I've so much to show you and tell you - She started for the back door, all but dragging him after her.

'He's only a baby,' Isthia began, laughing at Damia' 5

single-mindedness but the girl's enthusiasm was contagious and Larak didn't so much as hesitate a step.

He happily followed his magical sister. 'Oh, let them go!' Isthia said when someone moved as if to stop her.

'She'll take good care of him. It's what she's waited for for so long, isn't it?' 'All I can say is, thank goodness Jupiter's too placid to buck any more.' Damia had planned for Larak to meet Jupiter first but they were halfway to the paddock when she began to feel a reluctance, a hanging back on her little brother's part.

Looking anxiously over her shoulder, she saw him staring wide-eyed at the wide-spreading branches of the nearest tree. He certainly hadn't seen the ponies sheltering under it. Damia was utterly charmed by his reaction. What fun it was going to be to show her little brother everything she knew and loved about Deneb. She looked down at him.

'That's a good tree, isn't it, Larak? Bigger'n anything in the park at Callisto.' "Listo?' Larak asked, his expression dissolving into worry.

'Who needs 'Listo when they're on Deneb,' Damia said, quite forgetting her own recalcitrance, but she had imbued her reply with such enthusiasm that her brother's face altered to a happier mode, though he kept staring up at the tree. Abruptly, her original plan to introduce him immediately to Jupiter underwent a selfless change.

'D'you wanna know something, Larak,' she whispered conspiratorially to him, 'I've got a special spot right at the top.

Wanna see?' Big-eyed, Larak could not find a voice to speak and mutely nodded.

'Come on!' Damia replied, waving an arm. She was up three branches before she looked back and saw Larak standing still on the ground, looking up at her with a puzzled expression.

'Ooops, sorry!' Damia clambered back down, lifted him up to the first branch, pushing on his bum until he was firmly perched on it and then scrambled up beside him.

'You've never done this before, have you?' Larak shook his head.

'Uhuh, 'Mia.' Damia giggled. 'Damia, not 'Mia. Try it.' Larak worked his tongue but only got out: "Mia' again. Damia shrugged it off. 'You can try again later.

Let's climb!' It was quickly apparent to her that his legs did not have the length of hers and, while the branches of the tree shot out of the trunk at steppable intervals, her small brother would have trouble continuing. So, since they were high enough up in the tree not to be visible to anyone, she 'lifted' them both to the top to her special spot, just where the branches narrowed to diameters that would not support even her slight weight. Then she parted the branches to give her brother the full view of the realm they surveyed.

Pointing out features - where Alla lived, where she had found a brookside cave she'd show him in the morning, the Tower which was conspicuous on the horizon, the smudge of the City - she finally ran out of breath and looked at him hopefully.

'Isn't Deneb great?' Larak gave her an adoring look. 'Great !' He managed the 't' as a separate syllable and grinned at his success.

I love you, Damia sent shyly in the quiet 'voice' she had addressed him in for the past year.

Larak's eyes widened, first in fright then in recognition.

His face burst into a beaming smile. Love you, Damia!

'They're inseparable!' Linna complained. 'She cries and he just sits there, weeping silently. Which frankly I find harder to endure than her bowling. Put them together and they're sweetness and light.

'Didn't we 'go through the same thing with Cera and Jeran?' Isthia asked the concerned teacher.

Linna nodded. 'Yes, we did but the solution was to hold Jeran up a bit for Cera to catch up. But that won't work with Damia and Larak.

She's too smart to be held back - she really should be encouraged to go forward at her own speed.' 'Is Larak bright enough to catch up?' 'He's bright but, really Isthia, it would be most unwise to force his pace to accommodate her. That sort of individualized instruction simply isn't possible in a classroom environment !' 'Not in a classroom environment, eh?' Isthia repeated thoughtfully.

'Isthia Raven, what are you thinking of?' Linna demanded in her best teacher's voice.

Isthia was impervious since she'd taught Linna the trick.

'And you do agree that there are now twelve other youngsters in this school district that have Talented leanings?' Linna didn't quite grimace, and her sniff wasn't exactly disapproving, but her eyes were sad. 'The freaks.' 'FT&T freaks,' Isthia corrected her.

'Where do children learn such words?' 'I'm sure I don't really need to tell you that, Linna, but I am thinking that it's about time we let our freaks get what they deserve here on Deneb.' 'Not that special school you've been trying to wrest out of the Education Committee?' 'Don't you agree it's needed?' Isthia retorted. 'The Education Committee's not the only one to complain about lack of funds but they sure tie the purse strings when I advance the notion that a little expenditure now on proper training and we'd have marketable assets to improve our economy.

'Our economy?' Linna echoed weakly. 'What about our sanity?' 'Linna Maybrick, are you trying to tell me that Talented children are more difficult to teach than regular children?' 'Oh cripes, no!

Children are impossible without exception,' Linna responded emphatically. 'But how will you get permission? And the specialized teachers?' Isthia cleared her throat. 'Each one, teach one,' she said cryptically, and bent a fond eye on Damia who was patiently showing her small brother how to hold a crayon.

Linna never did hear how Isthia got round the objections of the Education Committee but somehow the Council found enough money to pay the salary of a T-4 teacher whom Earth Prime had located for them, and Isthia Raven agreed to underwrite his living accommodation. 'So we saved a little on salary,' Isthia told her sons and daughters. She also reorganized living space in the Raven compound to house the Denebian Special School for the Talented until the construction of the permanent facility in five years' time, at which point the Education Committee should have the funds to build it. 'I had to compromise,' Isthia Raven said when Jeff and the Rowan came to visit their children, 'but it could be worse.' Jeff rather thought she got what she deserved.

'You said "If you want it done right, do it yourself!" once too often, Mother!' The school was understaffed, the new teacher overworked but Isthia worked as hard as he did. 'And learned more, she said. 'I just wish I had had the opportunity I'm providing my grandchildren.' Damia loved it because it meant that she and Larak could share classes.

In fact, she had to teach him several subjects, including mathematics.

She got to be quite good at mathematics herself from such exercise.

Larak was not her only pupil, nor were only Talented children entered in the school but Isthia chose a careful mix from families whose views did not run to 'freaks' or fear of Talent. Children from Larak's age to sixteen, who would be physically and mentally challenged by the opportunity of 'unstructured' classes were asked to enrol.

So Damia found herself learning to control her temper at the difficulty some older students had in learning what she had to teach and her jealousy at younger students who stamped their feet at her 'slow' pace.

It was the sort of school only a gifted computer could plan for: with students and classes to mix and match in such complex calculations that it yielded a doctorate for the T-4 in record time. Physical therapy and physical exercise, mental therapy and mental calisthenics all vied with the more regular curricula of other schools.

Damia learned quickly the fallacy of judging a person on the colour of skin, the condition of body or the attractiveness of face.

She also learned, just as quickly, the art of moving cargo containers, juggling bricks and reading waybills, much to the amazement of her teachers.

Cooperation was a primary requirement for all Talented people: civil discord was something intolerable in one with Talent.

Damia's favorite sport was team dodgeball. It was played both strictly with Talented children and with mixed groups of Talented and non-Talented children.

The rules were simple: if you were tagged by the ball, you were out. The object of team dodgeball was to have at least one team member not tagged out at the end of the game. The Talented members of the team were permitted to 1) gain control of the ball by superior strength of mind; 2) pull themselves or pull their teammates out of the way of the ball. There were, however, limits to a 'port: a Talent was not allowed to lift a non-Talented teammate higher than three feet off the ground, or more than two feet laterally, or outside the playing field.

Games with only Talented players were brilliant displays of unexpected lifts or the wild orbiting of the foam ball as players jockeyed for its possession. Games with mixed teams were perhaps less showy but more fun for the non-Talented and exceedingly good exercise for the gifted. However, particularly in mixed dodgeball, score was kept with one point for each team member still left when the other teams were eliminated. The size of the teams was arbitrary: some very small teams won more regularly, even on points, than larger ones.

There were two unbreakable rules in team dodgeball: no player should be injured, and teams had to be evenly mixed boy-girl, Talented-non-Talented.

Damia grew closer and closer to her little brother, always wanting, but never quite achieving, the amazing rapport which Jeran and Cera shared. She would brag immensely about their combined capabilities and Jeran, who had grown rather less tolerant of his youngest sister as he grew older, would always take special pains to prove to her just how wrong she was. By the time Damia was nine and Larak nearly seven, the rivalry had grown to full scale war.

'My little brother's better than your little sister!' Damia would taunt Jeran, who, being older, would invariably agree: 'Yeah, Larak's better than Damia any day!' To which Damia could only shriek with anger.

Jeran had just reached puberty and had started to notice girls in a different light so having one so truculent was particularly annoying to him.

'Larak and I can beat any four of your friends!' Damia declared one day 'Cannot!' Cera rejoined, coming to the defence of her adored older brother.

'Can too!

'Prove it!' Cousin Channa challenged.

Damia paused, not expecting this tack. 'All right, dodgeball.

Who's your fourth?' Jeran's mouth fell. He floundered for a suitable way out of the challenge but Channa was Marci's best friend and Jeran just had to make Marci notice him. The trouble was that Channa was not all that good in dodgeball, being only moderately Talented and massively clumsy. Worse, the obvious choice of partner for Channa was Teval, her current male interest, and Teval was not only not Talented but an incredibly gawky adolescent.

'Fourth?' Jeran taunted. 'You said you could beat us all!' 'We can!' Damia returned, chin jutting defiantly. 'All the cousins!' 'How many teams?' Jeran demanded.

'One team!' Larak put in. And so the lines were drawn.

The time was after school and the place was in the field beyond the river boundary of the Raven compound.

'It'll be a slaughter!' Teval declared from the sidelines.

Not being a member of the Raven clan, he was excluded from the tournament but invited by Channa who hoped to impress him with her abilities.

'I hope no-one gets hurt,' Marci Kelani, standing beside him, said nervously.

'No way. Just little Damia's pride!- Teval chuckled.

'The others are OK but she's a little busy britches.' She had tutored him in language class the year before and he had failed to respond to all her best efforts, refusing to learn from a 'little girl'. From the corner of her eyes, Marci gave him an appraising look and, with a flick of her eyes heavenward, decided she did not like what she saw in the boy.

Out in the centre of the field, Jeran looked around at his team of twenty-one cousins with concern. Some of them were a bit too happy to team up against Damia and Larak. He swallowed nervously. 'Are you sure you still want to do this?' Damia rose above the doubts she felt because, absolutely, there was no way that she could salvage any pride if she backed down in front of everyone. Steadfastly she nodded her head. 'We're sure. Why? Are you scared?' Jeran licked his lips but shook his head. 'You can call quits any time.' He pulled out the little foam ball. As usual it had a dye bag inside it so that anyone hit would be marked with a fluorescent orange dye that washed off.

'Shall we flip for possession?' 'Smallest team always gets possession!' Damia declared hotly and somewhat scornfully that her brother's understanding of the rules was faulty. Jeran let the ball go, Damia 'caught' it and let it hover between them. With a contemptuous mental 'nudge' Damia burst the dye bag. A splurt of dye filled the air.

'GET READY!' she yelled. 'On three! One! Two!

Three!' Ready, Larak? she shot at him.

If the answering thought wobbled a bit, the boy's face was as determined as hers. Ready, Damia.

The ball became a vibrating blur which flew in an intricate pattern at the waiting throng of cousins. Damia knocked out three with the first pitch, then lost control for a moment as the remainder reacted and wrested it from her grasp. The bag came back firmly at her but she 'ported out of its way and shifted her power to Larak who, to the chagrin of the older players, looped it back around in a tight arc.

Two more defenders were knocked out.

'She's good,' Marci noted from the sidelines. Alla, Damia's friend, rode up on her brown pony. The moment she pulled him up, he dropped his head to graze. 'Is she all right?' she asked Marci.

Teval snorted. 'Little brat! They'll show her, that's for sure!' But the cousins were faring badly: in two separate passes Damia and Larak had managed to knock out two more, leaving only fourteen on the opposite side.

The cousins were forced to switch completely to the defensive, hoping to tire the two youngest. They didn't attempt to 'take' the ball, only to dodge it without being blopped. The tactic began to take its toll for both Damia and Larak were soon panting and sweating profusely in their efforts to keep the ball both in the air and vibrating with the special effort that kept it out of the 'reach' of the other cousins.

Three more cousins were knocked out in the five minutes it finally took for Larak and Damia to lose 'control' of the ball. Heedless of the danger, Larak dropped to the ground, panting.

'Larak?' Damia called, turning to him. She started towards him.

'They're finished!' Teval cheered triumphantly from the sidelines.

The ball, now in the hands of the remaining cousins, hurled unerringly towards the prone form of the panting boy. But the light ball was thrust upwards and just over Larak.

'Oh, good, Damia! Good!' Alla cried from the sidelines.

Damia took another step towards her little brother.

'Come on, Larak,' she called encouragingly. The others scooped the ball back up from the dip it had taken after Damia had diverted it and brought it back around in a circle.

'I'm tired!' Larak gasped to his sister as she approached him.

'Perfect, two targets together!' Teval chortled.

Damia helped Larak up to his feet. 'Should we quit?' she asked him. Larak shook his head feebly, drawing away from her to stand on his own feet. Damia looked about her, saw the incoming ball and batted it aside with a mental 'frick' 'Give up?' one of cousins called out hoarsely.

'No way!' Damia returned. She zoomed the ball at the speaker.

Either he didn't see it or he, too, was tired but the ball caught him squarely in the chest.

'This is going to go on for ever,' Marci moaned.

'Why don't they quit?' She waved a hand at the remaining cousins.

'Quit? Against a little girl?' Teval sneered. 'They just need a hand.' He picked up a small rock.

'Teval, no!' Marci cried but the rock was launched right at Larak's unprotected head.

'Damia!' Alla screamed, throwing herself at Teval.

Turning at Alla's shout, Damia saw the rock and flung herself at Larak, arms outstretched. She pushed him out of the way but the rock caught her squarely at the base of the skull. She fell silently to the ground. Spun about by the force of his sister's arms, Larak whipped around and screamed when he saw her lying there, her head bleeding profusely. Damia!

Jeran was running as fast as he could towards her when the dye ball bit him. It flicked past him and hit all the remaining cousins with such blinding speed that no-one was spared. Then it made a spiralling loop before it slammed into the vengeful smile on Teval's face.

It was dark. The air was bad. Her head felt awful and They were trying to get her. Damia moaned silently as she struggled away from the dark and back towards the light. But They would not let her.

They tried to keep her down. They chittered at her, not like Coonies, but like evil scraping claws on harsh metal. They were after her.

They wanted revenge. They tried to suck her out of her body, tried to eat her soul. Damia whimpered in fear, searching blindly for something, someone. There! Far away, far, far away, like a beacon! A blip of light. She lost sight of it, searched for it, drew it to her, crawled towards it. There!

They were afraid of the light, it scared them. If she could just get to the light! The light! The soul-eaters would never get her if she could just get to the light. She cried to the lighthouse, cried to the keeper. The beacon flared, light streamed steadily towards her.

She was getting nearer or had the lighthouse moved to her? Damia did not know, did not care. The light bathed her, burnt the soul-eaters and the lightkeeper soothed her with warm words and his warm light.

'Depressed skull fracture,' a voice mumbled in the distance.

Damia ignored it, wanting to bat it away with her hands but she was so weak, so weak from crawling.

'Will she be all right?' a tenor voice asked worriedly.

The lightkeeper! She heard his voice! She willed her lips to form a smile. See! I've found the light, see?

'Look!' It was another voice, one she felt she should know, a kind voice. 'She's smiling!' The voice approached, beams of kindliness washed over her. 'Oh, Damia, you're going to be all right!

Sweetheart, you'll be all right!' The mumbler coughed. 'We'd better let her rest. I'll have the nurse look in on her later' 'I'm staying here,' the lightkeeper responded sharply in tones that brooked no argument. A hand touched hers and she felt the warm yellow glow light its way up her arm, fill her body and knew that the lightkeeper had found her, had driven away the soul-eaters. And she remembered that the lightkeeper had a name. Afra?

I'm here, the lightkeeper whispered. Rest, Damia.

The hand let go and the darkness crept into the shadows of her sight. Afra!

The hand grabbed her again, light flared and banished the darkness. I'm here, love! Rest. I'm here, there's nothing to worry about.

A smile formed on her lips and she rolled over, small soft tanned paw still in Afra's warm rough green hand.

'Afra!' It was dark, Damia awoke with a start.

'Here.' Her hand was squeezed gently by his bigger one.

'Rest. It's night.' Damia went to sleep, secure in the soft mental touch of the yellow-eyed Talent.

The bright sun of morning woke her. Damia turned in her bed, scanned the room and was startled to find no-one there. She double-checked frantically. When the door opened she nearly jumped with fright.

It was Isthia. 'Ah, you're awake!' 'Where's Afra?' 'He went back.' Isthia caught her expression. 'He was burnt out, sweetie, and desperate to give your mom the good news.' Damia started at Isthia's choice of words: burnt out.

'We've all been worried,' Isthia went on, not noticing her granddaughter's reaction. She shook her head. 'Your father and mother were frantic. They've been here but Afra stayed. You seemed calmer when he was in the room.' 'He had the light,' Damia murmured, incredibly drowsy but she forced herself to get the words out. 'Can he come back? Would he come if you said I needed him? He hasn't visited Deneb but half a dozen times in all the years we've been here.' Isthia clucked at her. 'Afra's been very good to come as often as he has, Damia. He has other friends to visit than young girls who make impossible challenges.

'Was not impossible! Neither Larak nor I had been hit when Teval threw that stone!' 'He's not likely to throw another,' Isthia said, her expression grim.

'Why, what did you do to him?' Damia asked with a certain understandable vindictiveness in her voice.

Isthia shrugged. 'I did nothing. Didn't have to,' and she let a smile twitch at her lips. 'I wouldn't have thought a foam ball could be flung that hard.' 'Who?' 'Larak, of course.' 'You see, it wasn't an impossible challenge. It's so good to make Jeran eat crow.

'You eat your meal, young woman, or you'll find me an unpleasant challenge!' Isthia said and set down the tray she was carrying.

When Damia had finished the light meal, she lay back, wondering if she dared ask for Afra again.

Oh, she's all right, Damia heard her grandmother saying, projecting tremendous relief. And, fortunately, all she understands about that wretched game as that she and Larak won.

She hasn't an inkling of what that exhibition demonstrated of her potential.

How could she? and Damia recognized the weaker voice of her aunt Rakella. Not even Jeff could explain it and Angharad still doubts it.

Afra had a theory, and Damia heard her grandmother mulling it over in her mind before she projected her answer. He thinks that Damia is a catalyst: she steps up anyone else's ability. Afra says that's what she did when he rescued her from the capsule that time. THAT was why the power surged in the Tower: Damia tapped it. He didn't and neither did Angharad.

A Talent with an extra gear? Rakella asked.

Something like that.

Then both voices drifted out of her 'hearing' and she drifted off to sleep again.

A week after Damia was allowed back to school, she had an unexpected visitor. She was in her room wondering if she dared sneak out and visit Jupe when she heard Isthia's voice giving directions: 'Her room is the one at the end, on the left. I'll bring down some drinks later.' Whoever it was paused for a long while at her door.

'Well?' Damia called, her curiosity overwhelming her.

Teval's head slowly peered around the door. If the light wasn't deceiving her, his nose was thicker and there were discoloured patches and barely healed cuts on his face.

'Damia?' 'What do you want?' she demanded, suddenly deciding boredom was better than this guest.

Teval shook his head, entering the room. A heavy schoolbag swung from one hand, nearly dragging the carpet.

'I've been assigned to teach you self-defence,' he said, looking miserable.

'I can learn that watching a tape!' 'You've also got to pass a practical so I got assigned as your mat partner. aNother thing; you're supposed to be my teacher.' 'Your teacher?' 'Remedial language,' he mumbled, blushing in his misery. 'I failed my exams.' He held out the text-tape.

That didn't surprise her but she decided it wasn't fair to kick someone when he was down. Damia upended the bag. 'Am I supposed to teach you all these, too?' 'Not exactly. I've got to bring you your homework assignments and help you catch up on what you've 55

He looked sheepish. 'You're taking almost all the same stuff I am, except maths and language and you're way ahead of me there.' 'What if I don't want you?' 'You've no choice, Damia Gwyn-Raven!' Isthia called from beyond the door, entering the room with a tray of beverages and a light snack in her hands. She put the tray down and looked at her granddaughter critically.

'Actually, you do,' she corrected herself. 'If you don't take Teval Rieseman here as your tutor and you don't tutor him on those subjects assigned, we will have no choice but to release him from the Special School.' Damia looked horrified. 'Expel him?' Isthia nodded.

'Fighting is against school rules,' she said sternly. 'He threw that rock without any provocation whatsoever. By rights he should already be expelled. But someone intervened on his behalf' Both Teval and Damia were surprised. 'Who?' they asked, almost in unison.

'Afra Lyon.' 'Afra?' Damia was confused, almost angry. How could Afra do that? Didn't he know that this was the boy who had tried to hurt her Larak? That he'd cracked her skull?

Then she knew that, of course, Afra had known the whole thing. So why?

'Why?' Teval beat her in asking the question. 'I thought he was her uncle.' 'He used to be my special friend!' Damia exclaimed heatedly, glaring fiercely at her grandmother to answer the question.

Isthia handed her a note. Damia opened it, turned it around, frowned, turned it over and finally looked up at Isthia.

'I can't read it.' She handed it back to Isthia. Isthia glanced at it. 'I can't read it either.

Perplexed, Teval leaned over and looked at the writing.

'That looks like the printing in some old books my grandfather used to have. He was Russian, I think.

'What's it say?' Teval lifted his shoulders with an indifference that didn't match the emotions which Damia suddenly felt roiling in his mind. 'I don't know! My family was killed by the Beetles. I only recognized the script, not the words.' Damia could feel the pain emanating from him and, while she had always thought Teval was a dark, in that unguarded instant she learned that she had misjudged him badly.

He'd had a little sister, just about the same age as Larak, when the Beetles came: he'd had a mother and father, and the Russian grandfather. Now he lived with an uncle who worked too hard to have much time for his nephew. It was like Afra to know more about Teval Rieseman than she, Damia Gwyn-Raven, had bothered to find out in the years they'd spent as classmates.

'Why don't we study Russian as your language?' she suggested gently. 'Then we'll find out what this message says.

It took them many months and they were good friends, but still not without their quarrels, when they finally translated the one-line message. It read: 'Friends don't fight with rocks.' 'Let's go hunt Beetle junk!' Damia suggested one day to Larak as Deneb VIII sweltered in an unusual heat wave.

'Uncle Rhodri said he'd found all the near stuff.' Larak, at eight, sometimes questioned his sister. But it was so hot, he didn't like the idea of hunting Beetle metal. It stank and, if you touched it, it went 'sting-pzzzt'. He hated the feel.

'I need new stirrup leathers and that takes cash. Uncle Rhodri pays good for Beetle metal. And I don't have enough money.

Grandmother's stingy.' 'I'll lend you my cash,' Larak said, more so that he wouldn't have to go hunting than because he was generous.

'No, Larak, that's very nice of you but I'd rather spend money I've earned. And, besides, if we keep sitting here, Gran'll discover another nice cool job for us.' She could see that that appealed to her brother. They'd already been nabbed for some dirty, dusty garden chores.

'But we're not supposed to hunt Beetle metal unless we tell Uncle Rhodri.' 'We'll tell him when we find it so he can send the 'copter to collect it,' she replied.

'Do I get to ride in the 'copter again?' Larak began to be enthusiastic now. He'd been allowed to ride back in the big navy vehicle the last time they'd found some Beetle metal. He was going to learn how to fly a 'copter when he grew older.

'If we find metal, you might, Damia replied, not specifically promising the treat but she saw the anticipatory shine of her brother's eyes. 'OK, here's what we do..

It was, after all, easy to slip out of the compound, even with backsacks carrying 'provisions'. She'd got handlights as well as food and made Larak roll up a blanket though he'd protested that it was too hot to need a blanket.

'Well, we might lust need to stay the night,' Damia said in explanation. 'I've food enough. And the forest's always cooler' Larak agreed, though he demurred when she wanted him to bring a shirt, too.

'Against branch lash,' she said curtly. 'Now, go get ready. And be quiet. You know what long ears Gran has and we don't want her stopping us with more jobs to do.

Meet me at the paddock.' So Larak went 'quietly' to gather the things his sister wanted him to get. Larak liked being with Damia.

Which was more than he could say about the company of his older brother and sister. For all his efforts, Larak had never been able to establish a good rapport with his older brother. He had astutely identified Cera as the source of his older brother's apathy. Since Damia was a lot of fun to be with, he'd given up on the other two.

Anyway, Jeran was now on a probationary assignment to Deneb Tower, taking on-the-job training and Cera, moping about the place without him, was no fun to be around at all.

They met at the paddock where the ponies drowsed in the heat of the afternoon.

'Now, we know there's nothing to the east, south or west of us because Uncle Rhodri says those directions are all clear of sting-pzzzt,' Damia said, 'so we'll go north, through the woods, which will be cooler. No-one's really done much that way. Not even Jeran when he organized his search party.' She was slightly contemptuous because Jeran had been so sure that he'd find tonnes of the stuff.

So, let's be off!' Taking Larak's hand, she struck off across the paddock, and into the first of the trees.

They were panting from the heat but the moment they got in the shade, they could feel an appreciable difference in the torrid heat of the day.

'Hey, it's cooler,' he exclaimed, delighted.

'Told you it would be. Come on!' Damia led on, weaving her way due north, with little variation despite the press of trees. She signalled their first break when they crossed one of the logging roads.

Revived by the rest and drinks from their travel bottles, they continued.

Larak would have liked to stop longer and enjoy the coolness but Damia insisted that they wouldn't find any Beetle metal this close to the compound. And no Beetle metal meant no 'copter ride. Larak got to his feet and trudged along behind her When they came to a brook, gushing down a rocky bed, Larak did insist that he had to cool himself down. So they shucked out of their clothes and splashed about in the pool.

Damia shared out one of their sandwiches and ordered him to fill his canteen again.

Shortly after they resumed their march, they broke through the forest into a lovely mountain pasture. They quartered this because Damia thought it the very spot where Beetle metal might have dropped.

Then she had to explain to Larak, once more, how their mother and father had destroyed the Beetle ships, breaking them open and scattering the pieces far and wide, thus saving the whole world, and beyond.

By then they had reached forest again and, of course, had to sit to enjoy the coolness, have a cool drink, eat a few biscuits. The sun was lowering but Damia knew they had a good few hours of daylight.

'We'll find a cave, with a stream,' Damia told her brother as he gamely plodded on behind her. 'We'll have a great night out.' 'When'll we find Beetle metal?' Look asked plaintively.

'Why, we could trip over it any time now."

'I don't want to trip over it.' 'Well, then, let's just concentrate on locating some good sting-pzzzts, huh?' Obediently Larak cast his mind about and that kept him occupied until the blister on his left heel began to do the stinging.

'I gotta stop, 'Mia. I gotta blister.' 'We'll stop when I've found us a cave and a stream so you can stoop that blister cool,' Damia said, with a patient sigh over Larak's blister She hoped he could hang on a while longer. She had no idea how far they had tramped but it wasn't far enough for they hadn't found Beetle metal yet. She was determined to find some. Meanwhile, raising her forearm, she rubbed her forehead dry of sweat and, shifting her backpack, went on.

Larak was a real trooper, she thought, when she saw him limping though he didn't complain. He was the best brother. She was getting a bit anxious about a suitable camping site. Uncle Rhodri had taught all his young relatives basic woodsman ship when he'd organized his Beetle metal hunts.

They found the stream first so Damia suggested that Larak take off his boots - the cold water would ease his blister - and they'd walk upstream until they found a campsite. Maybe not a cave, but a nice clearing.

By the time Larak had slipped and fallen into the stream four times, and bruised his toes, he was ready to quit just when they rounded a bend and found that an old rockslide had indeed formed a sort of cave.

'What if there're animals?' Larak protested nervously, peering into the shadowed opening.

Damia had not considered that aspect and was miffed.

Uncle Rhodri had shown them tapes of all the animals on Deneb, mainly small, but some had poisonous bites.

Some nocturnal species could be most unpleasant, trying to creep into a camper's sleepsac. But they only had blankets with them.

Nevertheless, caution was advisable. She pulled the handlight from her belt and shone it into the cave.

Carefully, she looked in every corner. 'See? Nothing there!

Now, let's get this camp organized. I'll get us firewood, you can set out our supper.' The first attempt at fire starting did not go well. They had built it in the cave, which immediately filled with smoke. So, against Damia's better judgement, they built another fire, in front of the cave. Soon they had a good roaring blaze going. And none too soon for night had fallen and the woods closed in about them, with only the gap above the stream to let in starlight.

So they happily munched on the rest of their sandwiches before Damia grandiosely extracted a half sack of marshmallows from her sack, scrupulously divying them up. Larak limped over to a sapling to pull long enough branches to roast the marshmallows on.

'Now,' Damia said, dropping her voice into the creepiest tone she could affect, 'all we need is a good ghoulie story!' Just then her marshmallow fell off her stick. 'Rats!' 'Rats aren't very ghoulie!' Larak complained.

'Of course they're not. I said "rats" because I lost my marshmallow.

'I'll tell you a story,' Larak declared and launched into the telling of the Headless Horseman which had scared him the first time he'd seen the tape. Larak was a good story-teller so Damia didn't mind hearing it again.

Towards the end of his recitation, her attention wandered and her eyes darted to the edge of the dark. A light night breeze had come up and there was an odd scraping sound: a dim memory tugged at her.

'Now, you tell me one!' Larak demanded when he had finished.

'Soul-eaters,' Damia muttered to herself, for the scraping noise reminded her of her nightmare terror.

'Soul-eaters? What are they?' Larak's eyes grew round.

'Nothing.' Damia gave a convulsive shudder. She really didn't want to remember that awful dream.

'No, tell me!' 'That's too scary and it's not a story. I'll think of another one, a better one.' 'No, I want to know about soul-eaters,' Larak insisted 'Where did you hear about them?' Damia shook her head.

'I didn't hear. They came after me.

'Sure!' Larak snorted derisively.

'When I was hit on the head,' Damia continued, more to herself.

She sat on her haunches, not really wanting to, but nevertheless reconstructing her recollection. 'It was dark. They were darker.

They chittered like beetles on the outskirts and they tried to drag me away.' Her voice went shrill and she gripped her arms about her knees.

'They were going to get me, to eat my soul! Chittering, chittering!' She had dropped her voice, not as part of a story-teller's effect, but because she was succeeding in scaring herself with the memory.

'Damia! Stop it! You 're scaring me!' Larak threw his arms around her, his mouth trembling, his eyes watering with nervous tears.

'Damia? Tell me this is a story. Tell me there aren't any soul-eaters out here!' But Damia had triggered the recollection and was trapped in it, talking her own way out as she had struggled in the dream. 'They got me by the foot, then slithered up my leg, and always making this awful chittering. I could just make out a light. I knew that if I could only reach the light, I'd be safe. But they kept holding me back; they got my other foot and then I saw the light-' 'Light?' She didn't register the pure panic in Larak's voice, didn't see what he was doing. 'Then, I reached the light and Afra had it! He turned them away! Turned them back! He scared them with his light and then he touched me with it and-' Her eyes refocused and she shook her head, shielded her eyes. There was much too much light, illuminating the cave behind her, the clearing around her. 'Larak?' Larak was at the edge of the clearing, a burning faggot in one hand, spreading the flame to every dry branch and root he could find. To make enough light to keep the soul-eaters at bay.

Larak!

More scared than singed, Angharad, Isthia assured her daughter-in-law when the situation was finally under control. Overhead a water-carrying 'copter made another pass at the remains of the forest fire. We pulled them out as soon as Damia's scream woke us. She was too disoriented to 'port.

What caused the fire? Jeff wanted to know.

Larak. He used a firebrand to light the forest. Said something about soul-eaters and light. He was scared witless. Isthia replied.

He's sleeping now.

And Damia? another voice, which Isthia placed as Afra's, asked with some strain.

She's all right, Isthia quickly reassured him. What time is it on Callisto?

Early, Jeff said with some acerbity.

I was awake. Couldn't sleep, Afra replied and a mental yawn followed. I'll turn in now. Rowan, Jeff, Isthia. Isthia felt Afra's touch fade out.

Well! the Rowan declared tetchily. When is that child going to stop playing her 'tricks'? I really don't want Ezra learning from that sort of example.

I think she's been well and truly frightened, luv, was Jeff s verdict.

I would remind you, Angharad, Isthia said, her tone stern, that Damia didn't start the fire: Larak did. She has always looked out for her younger brother and protected him. Or have you forgotten the incident with the stone?

Anyway, Jeff interposed quickly, she's due to start Tower training so she'll be too tired for night-time treks. How far did you say she hiked? Isthia detected a note of admiration in her son's tone.

Once she learns how to 'port over distance, the Rowan said thoughtfully, she could actually commute from here to Earth everyday.

Just as you do, Jeff I'm not sure the galaxy is soft once Damia learns how to 'port distances.

The Rowan mulled that over. Well, I do feel that now is the time for Damia to return to Callisto and start using some of the skills she's learned. Isthia, we've impinged on your good nature far too long Nonsense, Angharad. It's been - educational, Isthia responded with a chuckle. Because of Damia, and Jeran and Cera and Larak, I got the Special School I wanted and Deneb is now actively looking for Talents to train.

Was that your reason for offering to take my children? the Rowan asked. She'd always known that Isthia had had some devious reason.

Not the main one, Angharad. There was Ian to be considered, too, you know.

Jeff guffawed. And he's tested out a T4. You did well by the brother!

What do you test out these days, Isthia? the Rowan asked.

I've never really wanted to know, Isthia replied smoothly.

Best leave with honours even, luv, Jeff said.

But I think it is time for us to give Damia the benefit of working in a busy Tower environment. Know that I - we - are deeply grateful to you, Isthia. And the Rowan was entirely sincere in that.

Isthia gracefully accepted the thanks for she was as fond of the mother as she was of the daughter.

She's starting to sprout since you were last here, Isthia told them.

So soon? Jeff mentally counted on his fingers.

Let's say that she's germinated, then, and should shortly sprout, Isthia amended her original statement.

Are there any suitable candidates there? Jeff wondered.

T-is? The Rowan's tone was frankly contemptuous.

Love, when a woman's fancy turns to men she does not always stop to check their pedigree, Jeff remarked carefully. Isthia could feel the Rowan's cheeks redden across the light-years.

There are no candidates here, Jeff, Isthia said in response to the original question. In fact, with Larak here it's as well you consider bringing Damia home.

Both parents were shocked.

Goodness! Isthia chuckled. You two think the worst things!

I meant that Damia would be ambivalent about dating a boy if it might compromise the special relationship she and Larak have for each other. Tsk! Tsk!

I take your point, Jeff said, somewhat abashed. It would be easier for her first romance if she did not have to worry about the jealousy of her little brother.

Exactly, Isthia replied.

Jeff made his mind up. Very well, send her back when term is over. I'll arrange for her continued education here. Not that it will be as good as what she could get on Deneb, of course, he added with a wink in his 'voice' Of course!

It was only after contact was broken that Isthia recalled what she had wanted to ask Jeff. Or rather Afra. To intercede on her behalf with Capella to find a high T-rating who would teach on Deneb. There was something positive to be said for a Methody upbringing. She hoped that a little more Methody might rub off Afra on to Damia when she returned to Callisto. Isthia was rather sure that he'd have a hand in her education. From comments that Jeff had dropped and her own observations of Angharad, Afra was likely to have taught her the self-control she'd needed to run Callisto Tower as efficiently as she did. Jeff had provided the emotional security Angharad required.

Isthia sighed, remembering his father and wishing, as she often did, that Jerry was still alive. But he wasn't and she was. And this wasn't furthering the aims she had set herself for next year: delving more deeply into metamorphic manipulation. Unfortunately, Capellans didn't believe in that.

The hands which were thrust into Afra's view were no longer those of a small child but were still slender, graceful just like their owner.

'What do you think?' Damia asked, turning her hands palms up and palms down for his inspection. Afra looked up from where he had been kneeling, into the intense blue eyes in an oval face framed by long raven-black hair.

Damia had let her hair go long in the four years since she had returned from Deneb.

'Think of what, witch?' he asked, flicking to her back the one strand of white that emphasized the blackness and lustre of her hair.

'This!' Damia stretched to her full height, running hands alongside her body. It was only then, with the girl standing boldly upright, one leg slightly before the other, that Afra realized she was not wearing her swimsuit.

She quirked an eyebrow at him provocatively, daring him to look away. Afra responded by scrutinizing her body carefully from graceful neck, to firm breasts, to graceful hips, sculpted legs and finally to delicately boned long toes.

'You're maturing nicely, Damia,' Afra told her when his inspection brought him back up to her eyes. He patted the water beside him.

'Water's warm.

Clothing in the gymnasium at Callisto Station was strictly optional and decorative rather then veiling.

Damia stamped a foot and squealed, 'No! The tan!

Afra, the tan!' Afra looked back at her body. He cocked his head: it was slightly darkened. He put a green arm up next to hers and shook his head. 'Not my shade, I think.

Damia let out a screech of indignation. Afra!' She stamped her foot so hard that her breasts shook.

Afra gave her a teasing smile. 'Yes?' She pulled a bottle off the nearby deck chair and handed it to him. 'Will you put this on me?' she asked, her tone turning sweet. 'I don't want to lose what little tan I've got.

Afra took the bottle of before-swim tan lotion and eyed the adolescent carefully. He sniffed the bottle, put a little on one finger and rubbed with his thumb. 'How much and where?' 'Just enough to get me oily and everywhere, of course.

Her tone was just short of patronizing.

Afra obliged, starting with her backside. 'Your hair will get oily.' 'I don't care! I'll wash it later.' She lifted it out of his way with a hand. She twisted her head back slightly to watch his expression. It annoyed her that he merely laved her down gently, working from shoulder to buttocks to ankles with no change of expression. Her eyes twinkled in anticipation when it was time to do her front but Afra was just as careful and just as nonchalant when he lathered her breasts as when he lathered her nose.

Still, he did avoid one area. Damia coughed discreetly 'You missed a spot.' Without batting an eye, Afra oiled up his hands and dutifully went over the indicated zone. 'I guess you'll wash that, too.' To her intense pique, Damia blushed.

Afra avoided her face until she had recovered, spending the time ostensibly fumbling with the bottle's top. He hefted the closed bottle and, with a gesture, asked, 'Put it back over there?' 'Oh, sure,' she replied absently. She patted her firm belly for attention. 'Do you think Amr will like it?' 'Your belly? I can't see particularly why,' Afra said, peering wistfully to the empty pool beside him.

'Afra! Not my belly! The muscles! Look!' And she tensed, revealing an exceedingly well muscled body, with abdominal muscles showing clearly under soft tanned skin.

'Nice,' Afra replied absently. 'Let's swim!

'Oooh! I should know better than to try to compete against a pool with you!' And with that she dived in.

Hours later, she appeared in his apartment. 'What do you think?' she asked, twirling around to let the skirts of a diaphanous purple evening dress swirl about her. She had done her hair up in a bun, with her witch's streak spiralling around the outside. Long dark lashes accentuated piercing blue eyes. Dimples formed around her mouth as it curved gently in a smile.

'I think,' Afra said as he strode into the living room with his dinner, 'that you were taught to knock.' Damia pouted but her eyes twinkled mischievously.

Afra knew that look. 'You know how your parents feel about you 'porting around the station.' 'Are you going to tell?' Afra shook his head immediately. 'I told you when you returned that you were welcome any time, anyhow. The door is even keyed to your retinal pattern.' He gave her a measuring glance. 'But it is good manners to knock.' He put his plate down on the coffee table and gestured at her dress. 'I do like it, you know.' 'It's for our date tonight.' 'Date?' 'Me and Amr' 'Sweet sixteen is a good age to start dating. Where are you going?' Damia's face fell. 'Well,' she hedged, fishing in a rush, 'Amr's picking me up at Earth Station.' 'So this is not merely a fashion parade. Do your parents know?' 'They won't have t.

'What are you hiding from them now?' Afra asked with some exasperation. Damia pursed her lips, bowed her head. Afra took in the look and let out a sigh. 'A special boy?' 'He's not a boy! He's eighteen - almost! she responded hotly. 'I've been seeing him for months now.

Tonight's special.' 'So I had gathered,' Afra replied softly.

Damia stared at him. 'You're not angry?' 'That you're ready to become a woman? Why should I be?' His detached response perturbed her.

Afra was aware of that but ignored it. Damia's affection for him had blossomed quickly into an infatuation as puberty changed her from girl to young woman. Afra respected that and handled the change in the intensity of her emotions as best he could but refused to release the storm that would surely strike if he made any overt acknowledgement of it. It took a supreme effort on his part as he recognized how much joy he took in her presence but he refused to abuse and relinquish his position as her best friend and confidant.

'Will you 'port me to Earth then?' she asked him flatly, eyes flaring.

'You'll be careful-' 'I know what to do! she shouted back.

Before she could draw breath to berate him further, she was on the steps at the entrance of Earth Station. 'Hmmph! That showed him.

Call me when you want to come home, Afra sent along with a special stamp that Damia had come to accept as a quick } peck on her forehead.

Despite herself, she smiled fondly.

Damia had met Amr at Luciano's when Uncle Gollee had had to cancel a lunch date. Amr Tusel, with swarthy good looks and a ready smile, had proudly informed her that he was a T-9 and training to be a stationmaster. Damia, too worried that she would frighten him away, had not revealed her own Talent but professed astonishment at his prowess.

At eighteen it would be a while before a T-9 would assume stationmaster duties. They had spent that whole first night dancing, and Amr had walked her back to Central Station which despatched people to any part of the world. His consideration and his kindness had impressed her but their first kiss had her toes curling and her body flooded with emotions she had not felt so intensely ever before.

Since then, Damia had established that they would meet at Earth Station because (truthfully) it was closer to home for her. They had seen each other for over six months, catching films, tri-vids, cavorting at amusement parks and dancing the night away. As time passed, they spent more time engaged in passionate embrace than in conversation.

Several times in the past weeks Amr had had to break out of their passion for fear that they would violate the few remaining blue laws.

He had not figured out who she was, having never seen the lofty Jeff Raven nor any of the Gwyn-Raven clan, but Amr had figured out that she was young and a virgin.

With a sense of honour and a Talented compassion, he had surmised that he was being considered for that most delicate of consummations.

The prospect had frightened him and for a while they did not see each other. When he relented, Damia had grown reticent in her own right and it was only with a loud and lengthy argument that she finally set the date.

Being dormed at Trainee Quarters, Amr had no room of his own for such an assignation and Damia had dodged the possibility of using her house by saying that her parents were always around and that would inhibit her.

The hotel was just across the street. Damia had left an overnight bag at Earth Station several weeks before when she had first made up her mind and had retrieved it before she met Amr.

He approached her with a smile on his lips and gave her a quick kiss. He stood back, taking in her appearance and shaking his head in admiration. 'You are beautiful, Damia.' He took her bag from her, waving her onwards with a hand. 'Lead on, fairest of Venus's daughters!' Amr conducted the course of the evening. They checked in, left their bags with the bellhop, asking them to be taken to their room. Dinner, a full course menu, was first, followed by a leisurely stroll and then the dance floor.

They danced until the DiscoTech was reluctantly closed.

The last dances were slow ones and Damia's passions had been aroused. The urgency abated slightly on the trip up to their room but Amr teased her back into passion.

Passion was not new to Damia: she and Amr had spent many evenings locked in tight embraces but always before she had broken free when her passion threatened to overwhelm her. It had been incredibly frustrating. Tonight Damia felt free to unleash her full emotions.

Gently Amr drew her into his arms, sliding them down her stately shoulders to her delicate waist. He pulled her body close to his as they kissed with rising passion. As passion rose, their clothing fell.

Soon they were on the bed, Amr running crafty hands all over her body and Damia lost in a shower of feeling that threatened to drown her. As her passion peaked for the third time, Amr gently entered her.

At first Damia was too distracted by all the other sensations of her body to notice. She froze for a moment when she did, looking up at him with a frightened expression but Amr smiled tenderly through his passion and gently flexed his flanks.

Damia moaned, grabbed him tightly, wanting him in her.

In her ecstasy she opened herself up, pulled him along and they rose and rose, crashed, rose again and again.

You're Talented! Amr cried through his passion. Damia heard the accusation in his tone, unwillingly offered to stop but Amr thrust himself deeper in her, thrust his tongue into her mouth, crying: No!

Oh gods, no! I've never felt this before!

They continued, Damia reviving Amr's flagging passions until they were both afloat on a wave of emotion, drained, recharged, sizzling electric ecstasy pounded over them, through them, around them wave after wave. The exertions and emotions finally were too much for Damia and she drifted languorously from orgasm to sleep.

Damia awoke with Amr's eyes glittering on her, following the line of her body like daggers. She was sore, sore in places she had never known she had. Muscles she had only just discovered registered their abuse with loud flares of pain as she moved one leg in front of the other.

'Do it again, please?' Amr's voice was hoarse, small.

'Oh, it was great!' Damia answered. Amr moved an arm to encircle her but Damia moved - painfully away. 'I'm too sore, Amr. Too tired.

None of the tapes mentioned that.' 'Nor what you've done to me,' he replied, eyes dull.

Anger crept into them. 'Have you no notion of what you've done to me?' His fingers clenched into fists. Tears welled in his eyes, tears of anger, of honour lost, of despair. 'Do you?' His voice grew louder until he was shouting: 'Do you? Do you? Whore, slut! Bitch!' With a look of pure terror he caught his hand mid-stroke as it moved unwilled to strike at her.

Afra! Damia cried in despair.

She disappeared as Amr fought to produce an apology.

Gone, he closed his eyes and cried softly in deep sobs, curled into a foetal ball.

Nothing was mentioned about hating after loving! Damia sobbed to Afra as he finished towelling her off and pulled her into his arms to wrap the towel around her. She rested her head on his chest and bawled. It was so.. so... and then he screamed at me!

You were careful, weren't you? Afra asked her, keeping his tone calm and soothing.

Of course I was careful! I've had the implant for months now!

Damia retorted angrily. Afra pushed himself away from her, tilted her head up so her eyes met his.

'Damia, you kept your shields up, didn't you?' Afra asked.

'Shields? Afra, we made love!' Afra's expression altered, pain flickered across his face.

'You were in a hotel?' Damia nodded dully. 'The one across the street from Central?' She nodded again.

What room number?

Afra! she protested.

We have to know how Amr's handling this, he said, then strengthened his 'pathing. Gollee, we've got an emergency.

A muffled response came back to him. Afra made a face.

I need you to look after a T-9, Amr Tusel. He's over at the Excelsior. Afra paused, his face expressionless as he looked down at Damia. I think he's been burnt out.

Gollee Gren became instantly alert. I'll handle it, Afra.

'Burnt out?' Damia echoed aloud. 'Afra, he was fine!' 'Was he fine when you left him, Damia?' Afra asked her softly. 'Did you guard your Talent when you made love?' Damia was devastated. 'Nobody told me!' 'I did,' Afra said quietly, lips thin. 'I said, be careful.' 'I thought you meant-' Damia broke off, finally absorbing the enormity of her recklessness. 'Will he be all right? Will he recover?' 'Possibly,' Afra hedged. But she cocked her head at him challengingly.

'Probably not,' he admitted, recognizing the morality involved.

'Oh, Afra!' Damia wailed, throwing herself in his arms.

I'll never love again!

'I wouldn't say "never", Damia,' Afra said at his driest.

He picked her up and carried her over to the couch. 'Just never be so careless ever again.' He placed her beside him on the couch, cradling her torso with his arms. 'Love, Damia, but be caring and careful with it.

No, I'll never love again, Damia mumbled earnestly as her 'voice' faded with fatigue. Afra made no reply, holding the youngster until she drifted into sleep. Then, very carefully, he insinuated a tendril of thought to ease her pain.

Afra was aware of Damia's gaze before he opened his eyes.

He looked down at her, still resting on his chest and met her piercing blue eyes. He gave her a slight smile. 'Bet your muscles are sore.' Damia snorted. 'From sleeping this way or from before?' 'Both.' Damia regarded him for a long moment, then admitted: 'It could have been you-' Afra silenced her with a finger to her lips. 'Don't.' She examined the finger critically, then ducked away from it to kiss it, smiling up at him. The smile faded.

'Have you heard about Amr?' Afra nodded solemnly. 'He's resting now, in hospital.' He looked down at her. 'I will teach you control.' Damia bit her lip. 'Would I have done that to you, if we had-' Afra shook his head. 'We didn't, Damia.' 'It could have been you!' The admission was torn from her lips. She buried herself against his chest. 'Oh, Afra, don't you love me?' Afra cradled her head tenderly to his chest.

'I wanted to, you know,' Damia went on, implacably young and naive. 'I tried-' 'I know,' Afra soothed.

She pulled her head back against his hand to look him in the eyes.

'You knew? And you didn't... And I And Amr?' she spluttered, growing furious.

Again Afra put a finger to her lips but Damia wrapped her teeth about it, biting hard. Her eyes locked on his as she bit harder and harder but Afra's expression didn't change. When she tasted salty blood in her mouth, Damia spat the finger out.

Tears dripped out of Afra's eyes as he coldly examined the bleeding teeth marks.

'I'm glad it hurt!' Damia said, hot with fury, with embarrassment, with guilt.

Afra flicked his eyes to her. 'That isn't what hurts, Damia.' She broke free of his grasp angrily, strode to the bathroom, pulled on one of his long shirts, grabbed a first aid box and threw at him on the way out, 'Here! That's for your hand. I can't do anything for your heart.' The door, being automatic, would not slam but Damia kicked it with a resounding thud to achieve the same effect.

'A word with you, young miss!' The tight voice of Gollee Gren shocked Damia so much she jumped.

'Gollee! What are you doing here?' she asked, looking around the lounge at Callisto Station. 'It's not Dad-' Then she remembered.

'Amr?' 'He's all right.' Gren dismissed the issue. He grabbed her, dragged her over to a booth, sat down beside her. 'Just what do you think you are doing, anyway?' 'What do you mean?' Gren swore.

'After all he's done for you. He's covered up for your "tricks", he's watched over you, lied and you - you're not even worth your name!' 'Who?' Damia cried in confusion.

'Who?' Gren snorted. 'Trust you to not know! Don't you think?

Don't you see?' He shook his head in a vain attempt to throw off his anger. It did not work. He let out a deep breath. 'I got the pictures back from medics.' He nodded to emphasize his point. 'He said that one of the Coonies had bit him but I know those marks. Even when you try to bite his hand off he protects you!' 'afra?' Damia exclaimed.

'He doesn't even know I exist! That cold-blooded green-skinned yellow eyed-' She searched for further epithets, found none, 'Capellan!' 'You don't think about anyone but yourself, do you?' Gren snapped back.

'Damia, Damia, poor Damia!' He narrowed his eyes critically at her.

'Well, what about Afra?

How do you think he felt when his best friend's daughter comes on to him? Don't you know what you did?' 'He turned me down!' Damia exclaimed, wondering how Gren could have known that and amazed at herself for blurting out such an unsavoury episode.

'You were as obvious as the sun! He had no choice, even if he had wanted to!' Gren said hotly. 'But that's nothing.

To punish him for it you go off and maim some poor-' 'THAT'S NOT TRUE!' Damia shouted at the top of her lungs, tears of rage rolling down her cheeks.

'Isn't it?' Gren asked quietly. 'Think carefully before you answer, Damia Gwyn-Raven. And when you are done, you go to him and you ask him very politely to teach you control.' 'I won't! Never!' She was so furious she whispered, visibly trembling to suppress the things she wanted to do, could do to her accuser 'Your parents don't know about that night, or Amr, Damia grinned. 'That's normal!' he said, speaking as low and as intensely. 'Yet.' He rose, turning back to her in parting. 'Now, you apologize to him and you learn from him how to control yourself.' 'Or you'll do what?' Damia sneered tauntingly.

Gren looked her over critically. 'I won't tell your father.' And he stomped off leaving Damia to wonder why that promise struck her as so sinister.

'Larak!' Damia cried joyfully, running to embrace her brother.

'Whatever are you doing here?' 'Afra sent for me,' Larak told her, hugging her happily.

He shook his head. 'I hadn't realized that Mom and Dad took his advice so seriously.

'Your voice!' Damia declared, recognizing differences over the past year. 'You've grown.

'I'm not a little boy any more, Damia,' Larak replied, his voice now deepened with adolescence. 'I've put on three inches in seven months! I'll catch up with you soon!' Damia laughed. 'And pass me out, I'm sure!' She pursed her lips. 'Why did Afra send for you?' 'Didn't he tell you?' 'We're not exchanging confidences these days.

Damia's response was curt, blocking any further conversation.

Larak ignored the implied injunction. He blew out his breath.

'That's new. I thought Afra was your extra special friend.' 'I've grown out of such a childish dependence.' Larak gave her an appraising look which turned into a different sort of look. He nodded appreciatively. 'If you weren't my sister, I'd ask you for a date!

I'm not the only one who's grown up!' Damia shook her head.

'Thank you. I'm not much into dates now, though.' 'Poor men!' Larak exclaimed. He hefted his carisak.

'Well, lead on! I'm starving!' Brian Ackerman caught them up in the canteen. Larak waved a fork at him agreeably, his mouth working through an overlarge hunk of food.

Ackerman shook his head at the change in the young man. 'I nearly didn't recognize you!' 'Even with the typical Raven features? I'm hurt!' Larak had the same easy camaraderie his father possessed. Brian recalled with surprise that he had known Jeff Raven for over twenty years now and the Rowan for slightly longer. At seventy-five, Ackerman was beginning to feel his morning exercises but beyond that, and going totally grey, he felt himself to be much the same man as the one who had met Jeff Raven those many years ago. And the one who had, in desperation, sent his resignation to Peter Reidinger because he could not cope with the young Rowan. The thought of the Rowan made him flick his eyes at Damia. Her features were a delicate blur of the best of the Rowan and the best of Raven but she favoured more her mother in moods, temperament and emotion.

Yes, a lot like her mother, Ackerman decided, only more powerful.

He wondered if the Rowan was really aware of her daughter's psychic potential. He had his suspicions but Jeff had tactfully kept his counsel on that score.

'What brings you here?' Damia asked with an unspoken accusation in her tone.

'I've got new station assignments,' Ackerman replied.

'Station assignments?' Larak was startled. 'Aren't we a bit too young?' 'That's never stopped you before!' Ackerman exclaimed, a smile forming on his lips. He nodded at the youngster.

'I've read your transcripts, Larak. You're going to be a great twic some day!' 'Twic?' Larak was puzzled, Damia startled.

Ackerman nodded at her. 'It was a name your sister coined, stands for: second-in-command. Only she saw 21C and pronounced it twic.' He paused. 'Afra must've liked it because he's used it ever since and it's stuck.' Larak turned a fond look at his sister but Damia looked as though the words offended her. 'So, what's up?' Larak asked, ignoring his sister's expression.

'Altair's up,' Ackerman replied, turning to Damia and winking at her. 'You're assigned there for six months, to work with Torshan and Saggoner. I think Earth Prime's doing what Reidinger did to him starting you on a round of Towers to give you experience.' 'Gren put you up to this, didn't he?' Damia asked, her eyes snapping with blue sparks, Ackerman recoiled from the verbal onslaught, confused.

'Huh?' 'Where did these "assignments" originate?' she demanded.

'Headquarters, on Earth, where else?' Ackerman returned, remembering belatedly how poor the Rowan's manners had been when she was angered by something.

What's up? he asked himself. 'You've done very well here, Damia.

But it's time for you to get about more.' He recoiled a bit at the anger she didn't quite suppress.

'When?' Her question was delivered in a flat tone but both men could sense the tension within her.

Ackerman blinked. 'I guess you can go as soon as you like, Damia, but there's no exact date given.' 'Well, I suppose I should be grateful for time to pack,' she said in a bitter tone.

'Ah, you just got in, didn't you, Larak,' Brian began, trying to rescue himself. It was rather like those times when the Rowan had been in a right snit and no one knew why.

'Yes, I did,' and Larak fell quickly in with Brian's obvious ploy.

'Haven't even seen my mother yet. Found Damia and she suggested I might be hungry. Larak's ingenuous grin flashed at Brian. 'Have I got an assignment in that pack?' Brian ruffled the flimsies. 'Yes, you do, actually,' and he extracted the right one. 'You're here for six months, working with Afra-' 'So he had to get rid of me first?' Damia asked in a sullen tone.

'Afra has nothing to do with assignments,' Brian said, puzzled by her attitude. Why, when she was a baby, she'd followed Afra around like one of his Coonies.

Ackerman shook his head. 'He doesn't know they've come in, much less who's been assigned where. I don't think he'll like it much, though.' Ackerman looked at his watch and rose. 'I'd better log these in officially, kids. I'll see you two later?' 'Certainly!' Larak called back.

Afra had heard the news that evening and was not pleased.

When he met Gollee Gren at Luce's restaurant, he started right in.

'What's the idea behind sending Damia to Altair?' 'She needs the experience,' Gollee said simply, flagging down a waiter. 'Please tell Luce that Afra's here.' The waiter looked dubious. 'Afra?' He looked at the Capellan who nodded politely 'Afra of Callisto Tower,' Gren amended. 'Luce'll know what to do.

'Chef Luciano is a busy man-' 'Who'll be very upset if I have to tell him myself.' Gollee whipped his napkin from his lap and made to rise.

'I will tell him.' The waiter rushed off.

'New man.' Gren frowned. 'He'll learn.' Afra shook his head. 'I haven't been here that often recently' 'Tell me about it!' Gollee snorted.

'Tell me about Altair.' 'She's got to have a lot more experience before she's ready to run her own Tower,' Gren said, then paused as Afra realized what he meant.

'A new Tower? Where?' With more and more systems joining the Nine Star League - which had far more than Nine Stars in it now - there was incredible pressure on F T & T to expand their facilities.

'Aurigae,' and Gollee made a face. 'They've got ores every system will buy. They already have credit by the pod load. They want a T-i yesterday. But Jeff won't overload her until he's sure she's ready for that kind of responsibility.' 'She's got the capability.' 'She doesn't have the self-control,' Gren said and his eyes were hooded with disapproval. Afra arched an eyebrow and he shrugged, then admitted with a sigh, 'It's also because of the incident-' 'Jeff hasn't heard, has he?' 'Not from my lips,' Gren assured him. 'And no, I don't think he has. Amr's getting therapy and the prognosis is good, but he won't ever make stationmaster. He also has no idea who she really is. So when Jeff was wondering where to send her, I admit I suggested that she fill the Altairian spot, with an eye toward Aurigae. It's preferable to her being at Blundell.' 'Hmm, yes, she was dating the boy for six months.

They did a lot of dancing. Someone's sure to remember her face if she starts going out and about on Earth again.' 'I also think working with Torshan and Saggoner will be good for her. Jeff's objective, but the Rowan' 5 not.' Afra pursed his lips, nodded. 'Yes, that's a factor, too.

Damia's always been Rowan's sore spot. It's been pretty intense at times in the Tower during Damia's apprenticeship. I don't know how much of that is their personalities clashing. Even so, she'll learn more control.' 'Oh, indeed she will. She's scheduled to go to Capella after Altair,' and Gollee's smile was malicious. 'She'll learn control.' 'Don't be so hard on the child, Gollee. She's only sixteen and in an act of passion it's hard enough for anyone to control themselves.

'We manage!' Gren protested.

Afra agreed with a nod, adding, 'But we're not sixteen.' Then he deliberately changed the subject. 'How's Tanya?

And the kids?' 'The kids are great!' Gollee returned promptly.

'And Tanya?' Gren smiled, having lined Afra up for that. 'She's even better.' 'Your daughter, she's what - twelve?' Gren groaned.

'Thirteen and boy trouble already.' He sighed, reflectively. 'In fact, I had a long talk with her after 'Good idea,' Afra agreed quickly.

'I can't figure out why the Rowan neglected-' Gren began in protest.

'I don't think she did. I think Damia simply didn't hear, Afra cut in. 'Cera had no problem.' 'Cera's overcontrolled,' Gren remarked.

'Would she?' 'The Rowan mentioned Cera had reached an understanding.

A nice lad, she says, a 'Jeff Raven's own population explosion.

You watch over all of them, don't you?' Gollee said, amused. 'But Damia more than the rest.' Afra shrugged. 'She's so much like the Rowan, it comes naturally.' Afra furrowed his brows. 'But Aurigae?

That's going to be a tough Tower to run.' 'Who knows? Your Damia may well have found herself a soul mate before she gets to Aurigae,' Gollee said cheerfully.

The food arrived, along with an ecstatic Luciano, and the subject of Damia and Aurigae was not renewed.

Iota Aurigae was a blaze at zenith, to Damia's left, glinting off her personal capsule. Capella's light, from the right nadir, was a pulsing blue-white. Starlight from the Milky Way bathed her, too, but the only sound was her even breathing as she allowed her mind to open fully to the mindless, echo-freedom of deep space.

It was as if she could feel the separate cerebral muscles relaxing, expanding, as her tall slender body went gradually limp. She enjoyed these moments of total mental relief from the stresses of Aurigae Tower. But her purpose in these jaunts had a more important application than a mental vacation for herself: she must also be certain that no unwelcome visitors approached the Nine Star League from deep space beyond Iota Aurigae, the furthest human colony from Earth.

Eventually the League would have sufficient sentries to ring the heliopause of every one of its member star systems.

But the effective warning system evolved by the combined effort of Fleet and Commercial Engineers was expensive, and time-consuming to manufacture, and almost as tedious to install when completed since each network had to be designed for the star system it would protect. Since the Beetles had twice tried to penetrate Denebian space, that star system had been first to receive heliopausal sentinels. Despite the fact that the home system was already festooned with sophisticated sensors and listening devices in swarms about each of the inner planets and a gigantic listening mechanism on Neptune, Terra received the second system.

Over the next fifteen years, devious politicking, strikes, ultimatums and power plays by nervous administrators on the other Systems - Altair, Capella, Betelgeuse and Procyon - were frequent: each Star determined to have equal safeguards against alien incursions. As the newest, and least populated, of the colonies, Iota Aurigae relied on Damia's weekly reconnaissance.

Which suited both the Aurigaens and Damia perfectly.

Perhaps that was why she so enjoyed the independent, reckless spirit of Aurigaens. They didn't give a damn about their 'perilously' unprotected status. They were arrogantly confident of their own resources and besides, wasn't Deneb on the far side of the galaxy from Aurigae?

Most of the energetic, hard-working colonists did not really have time to worry about something that 'might' happen.

Then, too, after nearly twenty years, the memory of the Deneb Penetration had faded from active memory into a tale to frighten children with. Damia often wondered how many people - with the exclusion of all Denebians - remembered just how nearly the Nine Star League had come to being overrun by the hive species. Certainly, during her childhood on Deneb, that lesson was reinforced time and time again. And, regularly, the matter of adequate warning systems still exercised the Fleet, Nine Star League Senior Senators - of all species - and all members of the Federated Telepath and Teleportation System.

Much as Damia liked Aurigae's raw and ruthless ways, she did find the utter peace of deep space an anodyne to the constant demands of her position as FT&T Prime. While gradually Aurigae was beginning to supply all agricultural needs and even manufacture needed parts for its technologies, she still had to haul in significant quantities of food stuffs and a multitude of the bits and pieces that Aurigae did not have the time or facilities to manufacture for itself More to the point, she had to send off immense loads of the raw ores, minerals and rare earths which made the Aurigae colony valuable, and affluent: commodities that in the main went into the manufacture of the low-pulse radar warning systems for other star systems.

Initially there'd been trouble with the Colonial Council in accepting Damia who'd been eighteen when her parents had judged her ready to assume FT&T responsibilities.

She'd been furious with the implied criticism that she, a Gwyn-Raven, of a family that already boasted four Primes, was too immature to handle a Tower. Worse, she had caught just a trace of anxiety in her father's mind that she was too flighty to settle down to the hard and tedious work of a Prime.

So she'd shown them all her mettle in her first three months' trial in Aurigae Tower. She'd mentally cajoled or bullied the Tower staff into line in the first week and had never lost so much as a single shipment nor bounced a cargo, no matter how heavy or awkward.

Settling her staff so quickly had been a minor personal triumph for Damia, since her own mother had juggled Tower personnel for nearly five years before she'd been satisfied.

Occasionally, even Damia's resilient mind felt the strain and required respite from the insistent murmur of broadcasting thought that beat, beat, beat like a tinnitus in her brain. Ironically, because she had done so well, Aurigaens now tended to take her for granted, to assume the fast and faultless service she rendered in her gestalt with the mighty dynamos of the Tower.

With a frick of a finger, Damia screened out the over-brilliant starlight and opened her eyes. The softened stargleams, points of gem fire in the black of space, winked and pulsed at her. Idly, she identified the familiar patterns they made, these silent friends.

Somehow the petty grievances that built up inside her were gently dispersed as the overwhelming impersonality of cold nothingness brought them into proper perspective.

She could even forget her present preoccupation for a moment: forget how lonely she was; how she envied Larak, his loving, lovely wife and their new son; envied her mother the company of her husband and children; envied the Rowan Afra -- Afra! What right had he to interfere, to reprimand her!

His words still seared.

'You've been getting an almighty vicarious charge out of peeking in on Larak and Jenna. Scared Jenna out of her wits, lurking in her mind while she was in labour! You leave them both alone!' Damia was forced to admit that such an intrusion had been the most shameless breach of good manners. But how had Afra known? Jenna hadn't even been aware until the split second when Damia had felt, as its mother did, the despairing birth howl of Jenna's son. Unless Larak had caught her as she withdrew from Jenna's mind and told him. She sighed. Yes, Larak would have known she was eavesdropping. Though he was the only T-3 among her brothers and sisters, he had always been extremely sensitive to her mind touch. How often she and Larak had been able to overwhelm any combination of others, even when Jeran and Cera had teamed up with Talented cousins against them. Damia had never tried to analyse the trick, but, somehow, she could switch into a higher mental gear, doubling the capability of other minds within her focus.

Afra's scorching rebuke had come as an intense humiliation: one of several she had suffered from him. The worst of that was that invariably Afra had been correct. Well, better by that yellow-eyed, green-skinned T-3 Capellan than her father, acting in his capacity as Earth Prime.

She rather hoped that her father had not learned of that appalling breach of T-etiquette.

Odd, though, she hadn't heard as much as a whisper from Afra since then. It must be over seven months. He had listened in as she'd apologized to both Jenna and Larak, and then silence. He couldn't be that angry with her. Or maybe he could. Afra's Methody upbringing made him a martinet on points of etiquette.

Damia diverted her thoughts away from Afra, and went through the ritual of muscle relaxation, of mental wipeout.

She must be back in the Tower very soon. In a way, the fact that she could handle Prime duties with no higher ratings than a T-6 to assist had certain disadvantages. The Tower staff could handle only routine planetary traffic, but she had to be on hand for all interstellar telepathic and teleportation commerce.

It would be wonderful to have a T-2, or even a T-3, to share her duties: someone who could understand.

Not someone - be honest with yourself out here in space, Damia.

Some man. Only men shy away from you as if you'd developed Lynx-sun cancers. And the only other unmarried Prime was her own brother, Jeran.

Come to think about Jeran, the smug tone of his recent mind-touches as they exchanged cargoes and messages between Deneb and Aurigae undoubtedly meant that he had found a likely mate, too. When the Denebians paused to use their wits instead of their muscles, they discovered in themselves strong embryo Talents. Like her father, Jeff Raven, or, more to the point, her grandmother, Isthia, who had waited until her forties to make use of powerful innate Talent.

It was no consolation to Damia that her mother, in a rare example of maternal solicitude, had warned her of this intense, feminine loneliness which she, too, had experienced.

But Jeff Raven had appeared to breach the Rowan's Tower and the Rowan had at least had Afra's company Afra! Why did her mind keep returning to him?

Damia realized that she was grinding her teeth. She forced herself through the rituals again, sternly making specific thought dissipate until her mind drifted. And, in the course of that aimless drifting, an aura impinged on her roving consciousness. Startled - for nothing could be coming in from that quarter of space - she tightened her mind into a seeking channel.

An aura! A mere wisp of the presence of something.

Something. alien!

Alien! Damia recomposed herself. She disciplined her mind to a pure, clear, uncluttered shaft. She touched the aura. Recognition of her touch! Retreat - return!

The aura was undeniably alien, but so faint that she would have doubted its existence except that her finely trained mind was not given to error.

An exultation as hot as lust caused her blood to pound in her ears. She was not wrong. The trace was there. And it wasn't Beetles!

Taking a deep breath, she directed an arrow-fine mental shout across the light-years, nadirward, to the Earth Prime Tower in the squat Blundell building which housed the administrative centre of Federated Teleport and Telepath.

I've caught something out here, Earth Prime!

Aurigae Prime, damn it, control. Control, girl! Jeff replied, keeping his own mental roar within tolerable bounds.

Sony, but I'm aimed directly at you, Damia replied without real contrition. Her father was capable of deflecting her most powerful thrust.

Thank all the gods for that mercy. So what have you caught?

specify! His tone was official.

I can't be more specific. The alien aura is barely detectable, coming from four light-years galactic north-northeast, Sector 2.

I arrowed in once I heard the trace and it responded.

It responded? And four light-years out? Damia, where are you?

Jeff s tone was suspicious.

Slightly bond Aurigaen heliopause, she replied, hoping that her father had no way of judging just how far she actually was. I'm resting.

Just how far are you from your Tower? Jeff demanded, more irate father than Earth Prime.

Only a light-year.

Leaving the Tower with only a T-6 in control? I thought we'd instilled more common sense than that in your head!

Let's not get too cocky, Damia. Those hey-mad colonists are having a bad effect on you.

Damia chortled. And here I thought the opposite was well reported. Damia knew perfectly well that her father would have heard about her exploits with carefully chosen, energetic and chauvinistic young engineers and miners.

But none of them had been the least bit Talented so her affairs had not harmed them. She'd never been able to forget Amr Tusel. If some of her partners thought she would favour their shipments over others because of her liaisons, they were soon disabused of the notion.

In her Tower she scrupulously adhered to FT&T's business.

You are at least discreet, Jeff admitted, but don't change the subject. Resting is good, but you can achieve as much rest beyond Aurigae's moons as you can a light-year out and not risk being irretrievable.

Privately, Damia admitted that his point was well taken.

I wouldn't have impinged on that aura if I was only beyond the moons, Dad. Aren't we supposed to discover visitors, and she added a mental grin for her description, before they reach the hello pa use?

All right, all right, Jeff said, but Damia knew she hadn't convinced him. Show me, he added, his tone reproving.

She allowed his mind to join with hers as she led him directly to the alien trace. The aura was palpable but so far away that only the extraordinary perception of two powerful minds could sense it.

I sense anticipation, curiosity, surprise, Jeff told his daughter thoughtfully as he withdrew from the tight focus. And caution, too.

Whatever it is, is approaching our galaxy. Damn, why couldn't we have at least a few peripheral sentinels for you beyond Aurigae.

Mechanicals would be no good in this instance, Damia declared, irritated by the inference that devices would be more useful than she could be.

That's true enough, though the safest procedure is for mechanicals to inform humans.

So I've stolen a march on those much vaunted DEWs. And I can find out a helluva lot more than they could. Damia couldn't resist reminding her father of that.

Not at any time personally endangering yourself, Prime, Jeff replied, colouring the official concern with personal.

Of course not, Damia replied, fully confident in her own abilities. But if I can establish some kind of communication with these visitors, I'll need someone to take over my Tower. Like Larak.

I can't spare Larak immediately. He's training a T-3 to augment old Guzman at Procyon Tower. The old fellow tends to fall asleep and great tact is required to keep from irritating or humiliating Guz, neither of which temper keeps Procyon operating smoothly.

I thought you'd a dozen good T-2s coming along, Damia replied, for she kept informed of all matters concerning Talents.

I do, but there isn't a team working smoothly enough yet to take over on such short notice. I'll send you Afra. He'd be better anyhow.

Because Afra was involved with the Deneb Penetration?

Damia asked, slightly supercilious. And you don't think I'd know Beetle stink after a childhood on Deneb?

Jeff chuckled. Yes, I suppose you'd have learned that, too.

Well, I'd rather wait until Larak's free if it's only a question of a few weeks. We've time in hand, I think, before the alien vessel gets anywhere near Aurigae's heliopause. And you know how Mother hates being deprived of Afra, Damia added, not quite leeching all the rancour from her voice.

Damia! and Jells tone crackled with disapproval. I thought you'd grown out of that bit of childishness. Furthermore, I will not tolerate such disrespect of your mother, least of all from you. He paused, leaving Damia in no doubt of his anger, a palpable bridge of tension between them despite the enormous distance that physically separated them. By rights, I ought to saddle you with some T-2s and let you sweat out their learning.

Thank you, no, Dad. Not under the present circumstances.

And Damia did not bother to hide her dismay at his suggestion.

Unfortunately the most useful pair are twins and as you never got on terms with the way Jeran and Cera operated, I doubt you'd establish a rapport with them either.

Sometimes, Dad, I don't think you like me.

Of course, I do, Damia, and a swelling of love, affection and approval laved her, as your father. But, and now Jeff s voice turned droll, as Earth Prime, I'm as aware of your strengths as your weaknesses. You operate far more effectively with T-3s and under. I just don't happen to have any T-3s but your brother. There was a note of wistfulness in her father's voice that Damia understood all too well, to both her amusement and chagrin.

Your dynastic plans will bear better fruit with Jeran, you know.

He's been awful cocky lately. Only don't let him settle for anything less than a T4.

She grinned to herself at her father's startled pause.

You haven't been eavesdropping again, have you, Damia?

She parried that surprise with a quick, After Afra reamed me for that with Jenna? Not bloody likely.

Oh, so it was Afra. Your mother thought it might have been Isthia. Your grandmother had a rare Talent for knowing when one of her charges was up to mischief The trouble with telepaths is that sometimes they think too much, she remarked acidly, infuriated afresh to realize that her mother also knew of that incident.

Damia! Jeff's tone was unusually severe. Better than anyone else in this galaxy, your mother understands your Tower isolation.

Is that why she handed me over to Isthia to raise? Damia flashed back.

To give you a soft ambience when you were too damned precocious to appreciate the dangers of living in the Callisto dome. And I know you remember Afra hauling you out of a freighter a split second before your mother was about to launch it to Altair.

Damia did remember but she didn't like to and she hated for her father to bring it up.

Furthermore, and she had to set her teeth as her father continued on that tack, let me try to seal it into your stubborn head that it was I who insisted that you go to your grandmother on Deneb, not your mother, and it was Afra you were clinging to like a barnacle when it came time to be put in the capsule for the trip. Right now Damia particularly didn't like to be reminded of that fact, not when Afra's silence had lasted seven months. Her father sighed, abruptly breaking off that familiar lecture. You and your mother are so much alike.

Damia snorted. She was not the least bit like her mother.

There was absolutely no resemblance between them. She was Jeff s daughter from her slender height to her black hair and vivid blue eyes.

Jeran, yes, and Ezra, too, took after the Rowan. But not she. Of course, her mother had an exceedingly strong and diverse psionic Talent or she wouldn't be Callisto Prime, but Damia felt that she was just as strong, and she had the added advantage of that catalytic ability as well.

Well, Jeff was saying in a resigned tone, you'll see it one day, my dear, and I, for one, will be immensely relieved. Your mother and I love you very much and we're damned proud of the way you've been managing Aurigae Tower. Professionally I have no quibbles with you.

Damia basked in her father's praise. He didn't give it lightly.

I'll send Afra on directly, he added, spoiling her pleasure. I can trust his impartiality, and to Damia's amazement, her father chuckled.

She stabbed at his mind to find the basis for the amusement, but met a blankness as her father had turned his mind to some other problem.

'Impartiality? Afra?' The sound of her own voice in the little personal capsule startled her.

What on Earth was that supposed to mean? Why would Afra's impartiality be trusted - above hers - in identifying or evaluating an alien aura?

But Afra was to come to Aurigae.

After he had broken contact with Damia, Jeff did not immediately turn to other problems. He mulled over the subtler aspects of that vivid contact with his daughter.

Damia's mind was as brilliant as Iota Aurigae, and right now blazing with excitement over the contact. He didn't like her recklessness but, in this instance, he could only be relieved that she had been in position to catch the aura.

Odd that she could still be so angry about being sent to Isthia.

Odder still, that she could still deny that it had been Afra she'd clung to, and cried for, not her mother.

Jeff knew very well that, once Damia had settled in with her grandmother and her cousins, she'd been extremely happy and benefited tremendously by the Special School for Talent that Isthia had set up.

Jeff sighed. The decision to send Damia to Isthia had been one of the hardest had ever had to make, personally and professionally. But she'd come early into her extraordinary mental powers, frightening everyone on the station with her antics and incredibly dangerous use of telekinesis. Only Afra had any control over her and even his patience had ended with her capsule stunt.

Under Isthia's calm, unruffled discipline, and with a huge planet to roam in and myriads of cousins to keep tabs on her, Damia had learned how to use her Talent without abusing it, herself, and anyone in her immediate vicinity. She became sincerely fond of her grandmother and would obey Isthia where she argued every request from her parents, especially her mother. Strange that it was the Rowan whom Damia still blamed for fostering her.

Rowan, Jeff called out to Callisto Tower and sensed that his wife was resting as the interchanges on Callisto's cargo cradles filled from Earthside.

Her mind linked with his gladly, just as if they hadn't breakfasted together on Callisto a few hours earlier.

I've a message of extreme importance to impart to you, luv. Open to me.

Damia's made contact with an alien aura? The fleeting maternal concern was quickly supplanted by professional curiosity as the Rowan scanned Damia's recent experience beyond Aurigae. Of course Afra goes.

I can't think of anyone better. Her tone was slightly ironic until she caught the thought that Jeff tried to lose. But why on Earth Damia would think that you can't assign Afra wherever he's needed, I just don't understand. Oh, well. I don't understand that child. I'll take a pair of those T-2s you're training until he comes back. Twins, huh?

Well, Mauli and Mick have been a superb team, and Jeran and Cera accustomed me to fraternal language. She added with a sigh, I'll miss him.

You always do, Jeff replied teasingly, to divert the Rowan from scanning the recent conversation too deeply, Good thing I trust that yellow-eyed Capellan -- Jeff Raven, there has never been an improper thought between Afra and myself even before you lurched in from Deneb Jeff laughed and she sputtered at him indignantly.

Actually, she continued, it'd be a relief for me to know that Afra's out with Damia. I really do worry that she might get besotted with one of those brawny Aurigaen types she plays about with.

The last thing Afra'd do is interfere with her pleasures.

The Rowan let out an exasperated sigh. But those pleasures do nothing to relieve her loneliness. Sometimes.

I know, said her husband with considerable sympathy and then his tone hardened. She wouldn't BE lonely if she hadn't been so heavy-handed with every other high T young male She resents our matchmaking as much as I resented Reidinger's.

There's no guarantee she won't find a Denebian, too, you know, Jeff replied, allowing his voice to become so lascivious that the Rowan pretended shock. When can you spare Afra from doing your work?

Afra? Doing MY work? Just wait till you get home. And she pretended to ignore his response to that threat. Afra?

Jeff requires your attention.

Jeff caressed her with a genuinely affectionate thought before he felt Afra's mind touch his.

Are you sure you're still only a T-3? he asked, surprised at the firmness in the Capellan's contact.

I'm in gestalt, after all, Afra replied, adding a mental shrug at Jeff's surprise. What else could you expect after twenty years of proximity to two of the strongest Talents in explored space? It's no wonder I've learned a few tricks from the pair of you. From the expression on Rowan's face, I'd hazard that Damia has lately been discussed. What's she up to now?

Damia had just returned to Aurigae when she heard the Rowan giving the Tower official warning of the transmission of a personal capsule.

Afra? Damia exclaimed, reaching back along her mother's touch to Callisto.

Damia! Afra said warningly but too late.

Without waiting for the Rowan to launch the capsule towards Aurigae, Damia blithely drew the carrier directly from Callisto, ignoring her mother's stunned and angry reaction to such bad manners.

Damia regretted her impulsiveness immediately. But Afra's capsule was opening and he was swinging himself out. She could not have missed his trenchant disapproval if she'd been a mere T-15. He stood, looking down at her though she was tall enough to look most men in the eye, as imperturbable as ever. As aloof and contained as always. Did Afra never alter? Did he never give vent to his feelings? Did he have any?

Unfair of her for she knew he did - even if he seemed to expend most of them on barque cats and Coonies. She really shouldn't have snatched his carrier from her mother: that had been childish and she so wanted Afra to notice how well she managed Aurigae Tower with a minimum of Talented staff and a maximum of efficiency. She sighed for she knew she hadn't impressed Afra at all.

Instinctively, she straightened as if to minimize the difference in their heights. Even so, she still only came to Afra's shoulder.

'You will apologize to your mother, Damia,' Afra said, his unexpectedly tenor speaking voice a curious echo of his quiet mental tone. 'Isthia taught you better manners even if we never could.

'You've been trying to lately, though, haven't you?' The retort came out before she could stop it. Why did she always feel like an errant child in Afra's presence? Even when she wasn't at fault.

He cocked his head to one side and regarded her steadily.

She sent a swift probe which he parried easily.

'You were distressing Jenna unnecessarily, Damia. She appealed to me because she did not wish Jeff to know of your indiscretion.

'She chose well.' Damia was so appalled at the waspishness of her tone that she extended her hand to him apologetically.

She could feel him throw up his mental barriers and, for a second, she wondered if he might refuse what was, after all, the height of familiarity between telepaths. But his hand rose smoothly to clasp hers, lightly, warmly, leaving her with the essential cool-green-comfortable-security that was the physical/mental double-touch of him.

Then, with a one-sided smile, he bowed to indicate he was flattered by the compliment of touching but allowed a recollection of herself, clad only in dypers, cross his public mind.

She made a face at him and substituted Larak's son.

Afra blandly put 'her' back beside her nephew.

'All right,' she laughed. 'I'll behave.' 'About time,' he said with an affable grin. 'Now apologize to your mother.

Damia made a face but she sent a suitably contrite message to the Rowan who accepted it with only a modicum of disapproval. When she had done that, Damia saw Afra looking about him. He would have seen Aurigae through the perceptions of herself and Keylarion, her T-6.

The Tower occupied a position beyond the edges of, and on a height above, the sprawling colony town which had been built on both sides of the river that flowed into Aurigae's southern sea several kilometres beyond. A fine straight road linked Tower and town, but there was little traffic on it now in the early evening.

Unlike other Towers, there was no staff compound, for most of the Talents preferred quarters in the nearby town.

So, late in the evening there weren't even any ground vehicles about the Tower buildings and only the two personal capsules in the cradling yard. The sweet-scented breeze sweeping down from the high snowy mountain range was lightly moist and the atmosphere had a high oxygen content, exhilarating him. Afra took a deep breath and exhaled.

'It's a lovely world you have here, Damia.' She smiled up at him, her blue eyes brilliant under the fringes of long black lashes.

'Yes, isn't it? Young and vigorous. Come see where I live. And see how well all the Coonies have adapted to Aurigae.' She led the way from the landing stage to her dwelling.

Her house, a cantilevered affair on several levels, perched on the high plateau above the noisy metropolis. Its randomly sprawling newness had a vitality which the planned order of both Earth and his native Capella lacked. Afra found the view stimulating.

'It is, isn't it?' Damia agreed, following his surface thought.

Then she directed his mind to her day's discovery, giving the experience exactly as it had happened to her.

'And the touch is unlike anything I've ever encountered.' 'You certainly didn't expect it to be familiar, did you?' Afra asked in dry amusement.

'Just because they originate in another galaxy doesn't mean they can't be humanoid, and thus somewhat familiar,' she replied.

'Dreamer They both heard an excited chatter as they started up the last flight of shallow steps to the main entrance to her quarters. She grinned over her shoulder at Afra.

'They know you're here,' she said just as a tumble of brightly furred bodies squeezed out of their special door, sorting into five separate entities. Squealing and clicking with delight, they swarmed up Afra's long legs - one Coonie making a splendid leap from the top step directly to his chest. Laughing, Afra reached up to keep the daring Crisp from losing her grip on the smooth fabric of his tunic.

Meanwhile, arthur scrambled to his shoulder, twining his banded tail around Afra's neck, just as Merry arrived on the other shoulder and Priss and Scrap argued with each other for Afra's crooked right arm.

Merry was disgusted and leapt to Damia's shoulder, scolding her siblings impartially as she proprietorially threaded her tail about Damia's neck.

'Aurigae' 5 unscrewed all their training, too,' Afra remarked as he carried his squirming load into the house.

But his smile took the sting from his words. 'I'm positive that Crisp and arthur have put on kilos since they left Callisto.

'They've filled out a lot. The hunting's good,' Damia said.

'They're foraging?' Afra was both surprised and pleased.

Coonies were infinitely adaptable which was why they fared well wherever they were raised. This litter had been born on Callisto under Damia's bed, if Afra remembered correctly. They had always been Damia's but had included him in their exuberant affections.

I'Daily, or should I say nightly? What they don't eat they deposit very carefully in my bathtub - where it's easy to clean up.' Damia made a face. 'Are you hungry?

I've probably interrupted your normal shift.' 'Oh, don't go to any trouble for me,' he said, settling on the long deep couch in the living area so that he could pet the Coonies who rapturously exposed their white-furred bellies for his special attentions.

'No trouble at all,' Damia replied. Mischievously she kinetically started several cooking operations at the same time, each one a dish which she knew Afra particularly enjoyed. For quite a few minutes, the kitchen was full of flying utensils, condiments and raw materials being processed.

'Always the thoughtful hostess,' he said, graciously inclining his head. 'How fast is this alien closing on Aurigae?' 'Give me a break, Afra! I only know it's there! How could I possibly judge relative speed? I've got to establish some frame of reference.

'Well, you've always been precocious.' He had to duck a vegetable peeling which she flung at him in her pique.

He neatly launched it into the disposal unit. 'Seriously, Damia, how long do you think you'll need?' Appeased by a reasonable request, she considered. 'I should have some idea of relative speed in a week or so.

Maybe even sooner, but I doubt it.' Absently fondling soft, silky Coonie bodies, he watched her as she ended the telekinetic preparatory ballet of edibles, and began to sample what she was cooking, corrected seasonings and added final ingredients. Like most T- is, she enjoyed manual work and kept her house without relying on the mechanicals which most households considered essential. In a very short time, she prepared a perfectly cooked, attractively presented meal at which he glanced casually, seemingly reluctant to disentangle his hands from the Coonies' playful paws and teeth.

'Scatter, kids,' Damia said, firmly Separating the little animals from their willing victim.

With startled squeaks, the Coonies fled from the couch to positions where they turned to glare in her direction, muttering Coonie imprecations. Afra glanced at her, his eyebrows raised in mild rebuke.

'They had a good romp with you,' she said, 'but I went to a lot of trouble to give you a decent meal and I don't like my efforts wasted.' She sat down across from him, plate in hand.

'Your efforts are not wasted,' he said, putting his fork in the crispy ginger chicken served with mangetout.

'Tasty enough.' Damia made a face at him. "'Tasty enough?"' She mimicked him. 'Can't I ever impress you?' she asked, half-wistful, half-sharp.

'Why should you want to at this late date?' he asked, amiably.

'I've never forgotten our introduction.' And he grinned.

'Oh, that!' As always, that reminder caused her to flush.

'It's not fair of you to continually bring that up. So I smiled at you until Elizara took me from you and then began to bawl my eyes out. I was hardly aware of what I was doing, now was I? a bare hour born.' 'My dear Damia,' and he chuckled appreciatively, 'you have always been aware of your effect on an audience.

He bowed his head towards her. 'But let us attend to the business at hand. How can I help you? Shall I take over the regular Tower workload and leave you free for surveillance?' 'I think you'll have to.

When I got back in from resting, before mother despatched you, Federated Mines and Ores notified me of intent to forward nine drones to the refinery on one of Betelgeuse's outer planets.' 'Nine shouldn't be a problem with David to catch,' Afra replied.

Damia rolled her eyes. 'Big daddies, every one of them, not those small interstellar drones you and Mother play with.' 'The big ones?' And Afra regarded her with some concern. 'And they expect you to manage such mass with only a Damia grinned with satisfaction at his response. 'I always do manage, you know,' she said with considerable pride.

'Still jump-starting other people's Talents?' 'There's nothing wrong with that, Afra, if it helps me spin off the workload they expect of me.' Afra leaned forward, lightly touching his finger to her hand.

'There's such a thing as being too stiff-necked proud, Damia.

Especially as you might put your T-6 at risk of burnout. Did you think of that?' 'Yes, I have, but Keylarion is sturdy. She doesn't have much finesse but she sort of sets her heels down and pushes.' Damia gave a little laugh. 'We might need more generators if this traffic in big daddies continues.

'Earth Prime has the right to know when his people are overloaded.' Damia found it difficult to evade Afra's yellow eyes.

'I would have mentioned it if the heavy traffic keeps up, Afra.

I'd thought of insisting on the linked pod configuration you initiated, but it's more a question of mass than convenience. Up tilt some dark thought of the big daddies, Keylarion and I have been able for all they've asked.' 'At least you had sense to ask for help today,' Afra said, and then shook his finger at her, simulating censure. I think I'll recommend that you're allowed a T-4 Ah ah, Damia,' and held his finger in a sterner pose, 'I'll have made the recommendation if I judge the traffic requires it.

You won't have to admit you're unable to handle it.' 'I am able to handle it,' and she jerked her chin up in challenge.

'Indeed, but not if you've got to play sentinel, too. I should imagine that your staff will give a collective sigh of relief to know you're being reinforced.' Looking down to artistically rearrange the vegetables on her plate, she found that Afra was, as usual, correct in his supposition. The tip of his finger touched her chin and, with a deft kinetic tilt, he made her look him in the eye.

tHis mind touch was so sympathetic and understanding that she smiled ruefully.

'I don't have a big staff,' she admitted, adding hastily, 'but we really do work well together. And I haven't heard so much as a wisp of complaint at the workload.' 'Then you've a good loyal group who will be delighted to see me appear in the Tower to help one and all move those ponderously packed pachydermical projectiles. When we've done that, your retiring in your capsule for a spot of peace and quiet will seem quite in order. Right?' 'As always, Afra.

He regarded her steadily. 'Is that so hard to take from me, Damia?' She mushed up the vegetables on the end of her fork and replied honestly. 'No, not from you, Afra. Never from you. You don't change,' she added, rather more tartly than she intended.

He grinned at her. 'Good old reliable Afra, consistent and constant.

She wrinkled her nose at him, experiencing an odd twinge of regret for his flippant self-description. 'You're not that old.' 'No, actually I'm not,' he said enigmatically and served himself a second helping from her pots and pans.

That pleased her and she rediscovered her appetite.

Having Afra recommend what she herself hadn't wanted to request restored her self-confidence. She was exceedingly glad to have Afra here just now, and not merely to help her shift cargo that was beginning to tax her strength, but because she was still absorbing the effect of touching that alien aura. She was excited, too, that she, Damia Gwyn-Raven, should establish such a first contact. Almost as if it had been preordained - though she had never succumbed to the immature curiosity that sometimes preoccupied lesser Talents to seek hints of their future from clairvoyants.

'You know,' she began, wanting to clear the air between them completely, 'you were right to call me to task for "tasting" Larak and Jenna. But I did want to know how a lasting love feels in the mind.

So I'll recognize it when it happens. And what it's like to give birth.' Afra raised an eyebrow quizzically. 'And 'Apart from the pain, I guess it's rewarding enough.' 'You don't sound too sure.

Damia cocked her head and traced an involved pattern on the table with her index finger.

'I suspect the firsthand experience is more intense, no matter how deeply one scans.

A trace thought behind her shield, triggered by her observation, sent a stab of apprehension through Afra that he barely managed to contain. She was unconsciously censoring, and it had to do with the alien aura and with her own desire for the experience of motherhood.

But trace thought it was, and he had only that nana-second impression, tantalizing, terrorizing.

'You're young yet, Damia,' he said, keeping his voice light, 'and it's really important for you to consolidate your abilities as a Prime before you have conflicting loyalties.

You know how hard it was for your mother to juggle Prime duties and motherhood.' Damia cast him a jaundiced glare. 'Not that old homily again,' she said in disgust. 'From Mother and Isthia it's bad enough, but not you. And why does it seem to affect women more than men? Look at Larak: he's got Jenna and he's two and a half years my junior!' 'Cera's not involved ---' 'Oh yes, she is, even if he's not very Talented. Oh, is that news to you?' She was pleased to surprise him.

Restlessly, she launched herself physically from the table in one lightning move, startling the Coonies who had been nestling in one of the lounge chairs.

'Cera could always keep her own counsel,' Afra replied.

-'Why is it that Primes have such a hard time, Afra? We can do so much more than...' She discontinued that thought for one of the strictest precepts of her upbringing was to avoid the arrogance of ability 'Compensation,' Afra said in the languid drawl he reserved for these moods of hers. 'There are some experiences in life which are worth waiting for.' She whirled, scowling at him, looking even more lovely than ever. 'So I should just wait in my Tower? As Mother did?

Passive?' Afra let out a roar of laughter that startled Damia as much as it did the Coonies. He laughed until his eyes were tearing.

'My dear Damia, there is nothing passive about you, or don't you remember how you dismissed young Nicoloss 'Nico! That adolescent mess!' 'He's a good reliable T-5 and he's a superb second at Betelgeuse.

'David's welcome to him!' Damia's eyes flashed blue sparks of outrage.

'Well, now, girl, you know you need a steadying hand 'Oooooh!

Steadying hand... I'll steady you...' and Damia lifted her right hand.

Well acquainted with Damia's tendency to dramatize, Afra deposited Crisp in her open palm. Crisp blinked and cheeped in surprise.

'Ah, yes, I see I was mistaken,' Afra said as she closed her fingers reassuringly about the Coonie, drawing it in to her breast.

'YOU have the steadying hand.' She regarded him darkly, tapping her foot, her lips compressed.

It had become second nature, Afra decided, to deal with Damia's moods. To be sure, they were more complex since she became interested in the opposite sex - or, to be precise, the lack of partners, steadying or otherwise. These times tried his resolve despite the fact that his diversions were usually effective. One day he might graduate from the avuncular stance he had had to adopt and be able to give free expression to his deep-hidden desire. But, from the day that Damia's imminent puberty had forced him to realize how much she meant to him, he had given a great deal of thought to the variables and knew that he could only wait. It was hard. Certainly as hard as it was for Damia to watch others pairing off, achieving the enviable total rapport that telepaths enjoyed, and for which she was so eager. Her very brilliance and beauty caused many otherwise willing mates to shy away Nicoloss being only the latest one of a long line. At least she had never repeated the Amr tragedy. Usually she would talk herself out of these libidinous moods but tonight Afra sensed a new pulse that was dangerous in its intensity.

'Is that why you so eagerly await the arrival of the aliens?' Afra said in his soft drawl, deliberately leeching all emotion out of his words. 'On the extremely unlikely chance they're biologically compatible? Do you envision your soul mate winging across the void to you?' Her eyes dilated in anger and the hand caressing Crisp stilled.

'That was unworthy of you, Afra,' she said in a hoarse whisper.

He knew that, but the thought was better aired between them where 'it couldn't fester in her mind. He inclined his head in apology 'Better get some sleep, Damia. We're pushing big daddies tomorrow,' he said gently and gave her a little mental shove towards her bedroom.

She scowled, still smarting from his facetious observation but allowed herself to be swayed by the nudge.

'Well, you know what a romantic I am, Afra,' she said with a rueful grin and hitched Crisp to her shoulder where the Coonie had snuggled happily against her neck.

'And I do need my sleep. That contact was quite a high.

No action without a reaction, after all,' she added in a philosophical tone but the sadness in her smile touched Afra to the heart.

He nodded understandingly, keeping a tight grasp on his emotions.

Again Afra caught the unmistakable and unconscious suppression of a thought within the maelstrom of her weariness.

As Damia turned, she made a sweeping gesture at the other Coonies and, with squeals of delight, they erupted out of the chair and scurried after her.

Afra dared not relax until he was certain Damia was fully asleep.

So he tidied away the remains of their meal, filled the Coonies' water and dry feed dishes, and then watched the sunset turn the plateau a deep tangerine before diminishing in the west. Brooding over the nuances of the evening's conversation, he waited until the roiling activity of Damia's mind subsided into the even beat of sleep. Then he, too, went to bed.

To his surprise and delight, Scrap and arthur appeared in his room to sit on his bed, clearly awaiting his company for the night. He was touched by their presence and settled himself down quickly, performing the obligatory caresses until they arranged themselves against him.

Comforting creatures to have. Not what he really wanted but better than nothing. Carefully, just as he was on the edge of sleep, he reinforced his mental screens so that none of his longing for Damia would escape. He wondered, in that honest interval between consciousness and dreaming, if he would have enough strength left to cope with a third generation of such women.

The next day, Damia introduced Afra to her Tower personnel.

Keylarion was visibly relieved to see him for he had been her training mentor at Callisto. How Damia managed with only seven in staff, and all under T-8 apart from Keylarion, Afra could not imagine.

Yet they had; there were no complaints from the Aurigae Management.

Which, in point of fact, being so new a colony, could not have afforded the rates a large number of high Ts commanded in FT&T He perceived that Damia was popular with her staff, male and female. The T-9 stationmaster, Herault, was infatuated with her, a condition of which Damia was clearly unaware while Afra picked it up instantly. But then, he knew the signs so well. It was also apparent to Afra that Inane of them realized that Damia's catalytic gift boosted their performance levels above their T-designation. He was relieved that she had finally learned not to reveal that aspect of her Talent. It had taken him long enough to get that message through her Talented skull.

'I've got the placements for the big daddies, Damia,' Herault said, shaking his head. 'And they've instructed us to pick 'em up at the mines again.' Damia nodded curtly to Herault, pursing her lips in annoyance over that as she glanced over at the generator boards where Xexo was monitoring their performance.

'We'll have full power in another ten minutes. The two spot's going to need servicing soon, Damia,' the T-8 engineer said, shaking his head at the unwelcome necessity.

'Blast!' Damia allowed her anger to show. Afra could scarcely blame her. With what she had to teleport, she'd need all four generators giving her top power. 'And they're too broke to buy me a spare.

'Backtrack a moment,' Afra said, holding up a hand.

'You have to pick up the cargo at the mines?' 'We have to,' Damia said with a meditative shrug and a gamine grin. 'They don't possess a land vehicle strong enough to transport them even the short distance from the mines.' She jerked her thumb over her shoulder in the general direction of the rugged foothills behind the town.

'Nonsense,' Filomena, the T-9 expeditor, said sharply, 'they don't want to gouge ruts out of their new roads which they didn't construct correctly to carry the heavy loads they ought to have known they'd have to transport.

This IS a mining planet!' afra regarded damia sternly. 'They're abrogating FT&T regulations.. 'I know that,' Damia responded tartly, 'but,' and she sighed, 'I can try to oblige them and save a lot of hassle - which transport would be-' 'To say nothing of the wear and tear on you and your staff-' 'Afra! This is my Tower and I'm running it my way.' Afra inhaled deeply. It was improper for him to challenge Damia in her own Tower. He exhaled, lifting his hands in a gesture of yielding. 'I just hope that Aurigae appreciates you. All of you.' At that instant both Damia and Afra heard the generators reach their peak.

'Well, folks, let's speed the daddies on their way while we're fresh and eager. It's also morning on Betelgeuse so David'll catch efficiently. Afra?' And she led the way into the Tower.

To his surprise, a second conformable chair stood next to hers, complete with a secondary board, screens and a terminal.

'Thank you,' he said as he settled himself.

'You deserve no less,' she said at her sweetest and he curbed an impulse to 'see' what she was up to.

'Placements!' Both Tower screens showed the huge ore pods, dwarfing the men on the ground in the mine yard, and even the heavy cranes and flatbeds that had helped load them.

Beneath the picture were the coordinates for delivery at Betelgeuse's outer planet.

Betelgeuse Tower, Aurigae here, she said, observing protocol.

Damia? Morning, replied David of Betelgeuse. The refineries have been screaming for this shipment.

You're likely to have a hernia bringing 'em in, Damia said.

Too much for you, darling? David asked archly. Afra knew the older Prime enjoyed taunting Damia.

Not for me, she replied, projecting a broad and confident grin.

Ready?

Damia! Afra sent the warning on a tight shaft, having heard just that tone of voice from her mother.

Don't Afra. You'll spoil my fun! Damia shot back and began the lift. Because he'd been forewarned by her mental tone, Afra was ready to follow her mind to the immense drones in the yard and felt himself strengthened, by the incredible catalytic link she could establish.

Effortlessly they 'ported the first big daddy towards its destination.

What under the stars are those Aurigaens trying to prove?

David exclaimed and both of them heard him work to receive her 'port.

Your principals were screaming for the shipment, weren't they?

Damia's voice was smooth and silky with satisfaction.

Ready number two?

Ready when you are, and there was determination in David's voice.

By the ninth 'port, Afra knew himself to be tiring and wondered at the energy Damia exuded.

That is the last of such weights I will accept from Aurigae, David said. And I'm registering a complaint against the mines with Earth Prime. I can't imagine why you haven't, Damia.

I don't mind cooperating with management and industry but nine of those is stretching both of us. Do not, I repeat, do not accept such monsters again. Why, I could shift a battle fleet more easily.

Damia's grin at irritating David altered to a frown and Afra sensed her sudden apprehension.

A random remark, and those daddies would weigh the same. You've had your fun. Leave it, Afra shot at her.

'You do have coffee here, don't you?' he asked, looking about the Tower.

Two steaming cups and a plate of energy biscuits appeared and one cup horned in on Afra, the plate following it.

'You're guest,' she said with an unrepentant grin and a shrug of her slim shoulders. 'I don't have enough staff to adhere to strict protocol.' Refreshed, they were shortly ready to 'port and receive incoming cargo, none of which was anywhere near the weight or mass of the morning's first delivery. Damia worked without affectation, Afra was pleased to note: a Prime in easy command of her skills. There was an excellent harmony with every one of her staff. Aurigae was a more than adequate testing ground for Damia.

Afra wondered if she'd been apprised that she would succeed Guzman at Procyon when the old Prime was finally persuaded to step down.

Despite her youth, FT&T would have insisted on his retirement if they'd known how frail the old man was but Jeff Raven, and others, conspired to deceive the administration. And they'd continue to do so as long as necessary.

Shortly, all the incoming loads had been cradled and the light afternoon traffic processed. Damia, her eyes glinting with mischief, slid out of the conformable chair and signalled for Afra to take her place. When the focal Talent of the gestalt went from one to the other, not even a half beat of the pulse of the Aurigaen Tower was missed. Damia used the Tower exit to reach her capsule and informed Afra of her departure. He let up on the gestalt long enough for her to 'port her own launch before he picked it up again. She was gone too quickly for him to keep even the most negligible of contacts with her.

So much for that notion. However, her absence would permit Afra to use gestalt to communicate with Jeff should he need to. The Tower's work proceeded smoothly. There was, in fact, rather more traffic than Damia had anticipated, but no more big daddies, though several medium drones of refined material had to be despatched to various destinations. Inbound supplies arrived sporadically but nothing that an experienced T-3 couldn't handle. However, number two generator was definitely ailing and Afra was concerned. Xexo tinkered and fiddled with it whenever he could but the machine needed more than adjustments.

Fortunately, Damia would not require full station power to assist her comings and goings so, once the day's work was done, Xexo could begin to dismantle it.

In terms of intergalactic distances, the aliens approached at the proverbial snail's pace: by interstellar references, incredibly fast.

Such a feat argued for a highly sophisticated technical species.

On the evening of the eighth day, Damia returned from her quest, bursting with news. She 'ported herself from her capsule right into the lounge area where Afra was amusing the Coonies.

'I made individual contact,- she cried. 'And what a mind!' She was far too excited to notice Afra's flare of apprehension. He told himself this was just Damia being her usual melodramatic self. 'And what a surprise he got, she went on.

From the first words out of her mouth, Afra knew that the mind was male.

'Really?' and he injected genuine interest into his response. 'A Prime Talent?' 'I can't assess his abilities. He's so...

different,' she exclaimed, her eyes shining and her mental aura dazzling with her success. 'He fades and then returns. The distance is still immense, of course, and there isn't much definition in the thoughts. We can only deal in abstracts.' She laughed tiredly. 'As scientists have often maintained, I made a start by reciting the periodic table of chemicals and basic atomic structures to establish at least some level of communication.

'Surely an intergalactic ship would utilize a more sophisticated source than atomic power?' 'I'm sure it would have to, to travel such distances,' and Damia threw herself on the long couch, pushing back her long hair in a tired gesture before she let her hand drop bonelessly to the cushioning. 'I can't be bothered at this stage of interaction to deal with minor details.' 'Minor details?' 'Oh, don't fuss, Afra,' she said irritably. 'Considering our space travel experts postulate drives as far beyond fusion as the wheel from mixed fuel space drives, we can posit that they would have to have developed an efficient drive. At least I could project mutually understood abstracts. I'm exhausted. I haven't had this sort of a workout since Larak and I played dodgeball against all the cousins.

Let me grab a little nap before I contact Dad.' 'Xexo's patching that ailing generator.' Damia scowled, then shrugged off that complication.

'All the more reason for me to have an hour's snore.' 'You don't snore,' Afra said firmly, giving her a mock stern glare.

She managed a grin for his loyal denial.

Afra waited until she relaxed into sleep. Putting ethics aside, he tried to reach this experience in her mind, below the emotional level, only to find himself overwhelmed by the subjective. Damia was indulging in a high emotional kick! He recognized that she had every reason to be proud of herself in establishing any sort of contact with an alien but he was afraid for her, with a fear deeper than any he had ever touched personally or vicariously.

Afra withdrew, troubled. Crisp and Merry crawled over to him, whining softly as if they felt his concern. Soothing them, he managed to disperse his presentiment.

He let her wake up naturally and was proud of her now calm and balanced mind. As she 'reached' Jeff, she was totally the Prime, giving a considered and professional report of the contact. Not a trace of the excitation Afra had probed coloured her thoughts. When she had finished 'pathing, Jeff inserted a private query for Afra but he could only confirm Damia's report.

He saw no point to mention vague forebodings but he dId mention the matter of overweight drones. Jeff had received a formal complaint from David of Betelgeuse and there was to be an official protest from FT&T to Aurigae Miners.

The next day, Damia tossed off the few live 'portations and departed for her surveillance. And Afra contained his presentiments.

She returned so shining from the second session of communication that Afra had to clamp an icy hold over his mental reactions.

'We're making great progress in conceptualizations,' she told Afra, pirouetting with abandon into the lounge and flopping on to the long couch, her eyes glowing. One long tress, half black hair, half white, fell across her flushed face.

'Such as?' he enquired in a politely interested tone. She was so absorbed by her accomplishment that she didn't react to his ironic tone.

'Once past simple atomic weights, we've,' the pronoun, an innocuous detail in itself, raised Afra's hackles, 'gone on to solar systems. His has twelve planets and two asteroid belts.' 'What sort of planet does his species inhabit?' Damia shot him a quick glance, then laughed uneasily.

'That's strange. We didn't establish that.' 'And how did you answer his query about Aurigae?' She was more alert now and her eye contact was wary.

Then she grinned cockily. 'I gave the same detail he did.

Without, dear Arra,' her use of her baby name for him underlined her impudence, 'disclosing any more than the number of planets, moons et cetera. I'm not a fool!' She hauled herself out of her semi-recumbent position and made a show of tossing her hair back.

'You've never been a fool, Damia,' Afra replied coolly.

'Nor am I catechizing you. I cooked dinner tonight.' 'Did you?' and she seized on that topic with obvious relief. 'You're a better cook than any other man I know.' Afra decided that she had redeemed her use of 'Arra' with that unsolicited praise. One day, maybe, they'd confront each other as functioning adults... Ruthlessly he suppressed the eros and reinstated the philia and began to serve her a much-needed meal.

The third morning, as Damia sat in the Tower, she worked with such haste that Afra was obliged to reprimand her. She gaily corrected herself, making far too negligent a response. Then, eagerly she propelled herself out to make the rendezvous. When she returned that evening so tired that she reeled into the room, Afra took command.

'I'm going with you tomorrow, Damia,' he said firmly.

'What for?' She glared at him from the couch into which she had sunk. 'I'd know the sting-pzzzt of Beetles. And there isn't even a trace of that about Sodan.' 'Sodan?' Damia flushed at the crack in his voice but did not evade eye contact with him. 'That's how he identifies himself.

Furthermore, I inserted the concept of other sentient life forms and he denied knowledge of any.' Afra decided not to challenge that information. 'What do you mean by the sting-pzzzt of Beetles? The Deneb Penetration happened before you were even conceived.' She rose and came to sit at the counter where Afra was fixing their dinner plates, she gave a casual shrug. 'When we were exploring around Grandmother's farm, we often found bits and pieces of Beetle metal.

Uncle Rhodri was still paying by the weight for their junk.' She gave Afra a teasing grin. 'It made a comfortable addition to the measly pocket money Isthia allowed us. Larak and I decided that there was sting-' now she wet the tip of one finger and placed it on the counter surface, making the 'pzzzt' sound, '-in Beetle metal. There's no sting-pzzzt about Sodan.' She sounded entirely confident.

It disturbed Afra to know that this entity had a name.

It made the alien seem amiable/approachable. Nor could Afra quite reason away the unusual lilt with which Damia spoke the name.

'Fair enough,' Afra said, with an indifference he didn't feel as he passed her a plate. 'However, the lack of stingpzzzt is not going to reassure Earth Prime. Tomorrow take me along for the ride.

There'll be no need to introduce me. All I need to do is confirm your sense of the aura.

I certainly wouldn't want to jeopardize whatever rapport you've managed to build. He'll never realize I've been there.' afra yawned.

'Why are you tired?' 'I've been stevedoring all day,' he said with a malicious grin.

'How? Who?' Damia demanded, indignantly. 'There was nothing urgent on the schedule when I went off.' 'No, there wasn't, but there was a minor mine disaster where the Tower could assist. Then a delayed shipment of spare parts was signalled in from Procyon, and a freighter with some perishables and a covey of prospective immigrants came through.' 'Damn them! They were taking advantage of you, Afra! Towers have protocol to avoid collisions and confusions. Especially on inbound 'ports. Unscheduled shipments ' Then she stopped for he was grinning at her. She let out a gusty sigh. 'I know.' She waved her hand irritably. 'Phrases out of mother's mouth. But Afra waggled a finger at her. 'You set the precedent at Aurigae Tower, Damia, by being so cooperative that miners and shippers assume that you're ready, willing and able when need arises.' 'This smells heavenly,' she said artlessly as she loaded her fork.

'Hah!' Afra said, refusing to be diverted.

'And it is,' she said through her first mouthful. 'Lovely seasoning.

'Thank you. By the way, that crew of yours is really excellent.

Even the generator behaved. Have some chopped fruit. Takes the edge off that pepper.

They ate companionably, though Damia's appetite seemed to be affected by her fatigue for she usually went for seconds of one of his special meals. She did ask for details of the mine problem - a line of ore carts had slipped off the cable, causing an obstruction in the shaft which Afra and the Tower folk were able to shift so there was no significant loss of time. When he asked her what else she had discussed with Sodan, she had trouble formulating sentences despite a resurgence of animation Ion that subject.

'Don't stand on ceremony with me, Damia, Afra said when she didn't even have the energy to groom Merry when the animal brought her the brush. 'Here, I'll do Merry. You go to bed. Sleep well.

Such exhaustion for one so vibrantly healthy worried Afra even more than her emotional involvement with this Sodan entity. It no longer mattered that the intruder was unrelated to the species that had attacked Deneb; he was a menace in himself.

The next day, after 'porting out medium-sized drones of refined ores, Damia told Keylarion to inform any callers that the Tower was on hold for repairs to the generator that Xexo now said were critical.

Then she and Afra settled into their personal capsules. Afra followed Damia's thrust and held himself silent as she reached the area where she could touch the aura of Sodan. To his relief, Damia had no hesitation when Afra asked permission to establish a light link in her mind. So she carried them both to the alien ship. As soon as the alien touch impinged on Afra's awareness, much was suddenly clear to him: much seen, and worse, much unseen.

What Damia could not, would not, or did not see justified Afra's nagging presentiment of danger. Nothing out of Sodan's mind was visible: and nothing beyond his public mind was accessible. The alien had a powerful mentality.

As a quiescent eavesdropper, Afra could not probe, but he widened his own sensitivity to its limit and the impressions he received served to increase his intuition of danger.

There was absolutely no comparison between Sodan and the Deneb invasion species. Damia was correct in that evaluation. One impression which surprised Afra was that of an almost interminable journey. And excitement at an end in sight. Yet how Afra could grasp that concept from a mind that did not yet speak in a known language, he did not know. But those were the impressions he grasped.

Damia would not expect Afra to linger once he had satisfied his stated errand. But, fascinated by the contact, he did linger, discovering other unsettling aspects. Sodan's mind, undeniably brilliant, was nevertheless augmented.

Afra couldn't perceive whether Sodan was the focus for other minds on the ship or in gestalt with the ship's power source. Straining his nerves and senses to the limit without revealing his presence, Afra tried to pierce the visual screen or, at least, the aural one. All he received was a low stereo babble of mechanical activity, and the burn of heavy elements, the latter sufficiently disturbing in itself. Yet how did a species without a visual faculty function on such a sophisticated level? To be sure, antennae of various sorts relayed a tremendous amount of information to an intelligent mind: sensors and optics imitated vision but it was the sight of stars that had lured Mankind into space. What had been this alien's goad to cross intergalactic space?

Worried and frustrated, Afra withdrew, leaving Sodan and Damia to exchange abstracts that, to him, were also the ploys of emotional attraction. He returned to Aurigae and sought the Tower couch. He felt completely drained by the brief jaunt. That was in itself unnerving. He'd planned to contact Larak on Procyon without having to gestalt. But he knew that was impossible just then. Carefully assuming a light tone, he asked Keylarion to bring a generator on line for him.

'We've three if you need them,' the T-6 replied helpfully.

'No, one's enough.' And Afra hoped that it would be.

For a T-3, one should be sufficient. He scrubbed at his face while he watched the gauge on number one generator climb to sending level. It was not, Afra assured himself, that Damia had deliberately concealed anything in her reports to him or to Jeff: she was entirely unaware that her usually keen perceptions were fuddled and distorted by the fatigue levels caused by contact with this alien.

And Damia had been spending hours dealing abstracts at Sodan? He exhaled noisily and wondered if a cup of coffee would have a reviving effect. But the needle reached the required level even as Keylarion verified readiness to him.

Even with the gestalt, 'pathing to Larak was an effort.

Larak, Afra called, leaning heavily into the power and projecting his own mental/physical concept of Larak to aid him in reaching the boy's mind.

Man, you're beat, Larak answered, his touch sharp, clear, green.

Larak, relay back to Jeff that this SodanIt's got a name?

It's got more than that and Damia is responding on a very high emotional level, Afra sighed heavily. This entity has no resemblance to the Deneb Penetration species. No Beetle sting What? Oh, yeah, I remember. Larak's projection of a grin was oddly comforting to Afra.

But there's something very insidious about this Sodan individual.

A few moments in its company and I'm so shagged that I needed gestalt to reach you.

You? That was enough to remove the grin from Larak's voice.

Please inform Jeff that I consider this situation of a highly volatile - and possibly dangerous - nature. I want you out here as soon as possible on any pretext so I can get through to Earth Prime without requiring either Damia or gestalt. And- Afra paused to emphasize the next request, please ask both Jeff and the Rowan to remain available to me on demand.

What has my darling sister found this time! Larak responded with an impressed whistle.

Get Mick and Mauli to push you out here as soon as you can relay that message, huh, Larak, like a good lad?

Coming, Larak responded crisply.

Afra leaned back in the couch and flicked off the generator. The exchange had taken no more than thirty seconds: not long enough for Keylarion to take particular note or even log it into the station records. Not that Damia would check the station log if she returned: she'd be too tired, he thought grimly. How did that entity cause such enervation? Why? Afra brooded. Perhaps he was being over-sensitive because Damia was so absorbed by this contact. He had half-hoped, when Jeff told him to go to Aurigae, that he might have a chance to attract Damia as he had so long wanted to do. Perhaps he was acting prematurely to call Larak in. Perhaps he could handle the Sodan mind himself.

No, Afra told himself candidly, not when you're reduced to a limp rag after a vicarious touch. And not with the competition Sodan was providing.

Hey, Afra, what does a guy have to do to get your attention? was Larak's cheery greeting as he bounced up the Tower steps.

His energy seemed almost obscene to the weary T-3.

'Knock twice!' Afra replied but he grinned gratefully as he extended his hand to the visitor. The vigour which Larak exuded was as much a restorative as the infectiousness of his smile. The resemblance between Larak and his sister was pronounced, even to having the Gwyn slash of white in the same position on their black-haired heads.

Larak was not quite as tall as his sister who was unusually tall, and more slightly built than his brothers. But he had full measure of the Raven charm and Afra found the energy to return the boy's smile.

Hands now touching, Afra conveyed the one impression he had not included in the broadcast.

Damia's infatuated with this peculiarly dangerous alien?

Larak murmured, surprised, and looked hard into Afra's eyes.

'Wouldn't you know she'd have weird and exotic tastes!' He let his lips turn down sympathetically. Why can't she pick on the home-brewed?

He cocked his head at Afra.

Afra felt it expedient to ignore that comment. 'A very dangerous alien, unfortunately. Do you remember that old scare tale about soul-eaters?' Larak rolled his eyes wide. 'You just bet I do. Damia terrorized me into starting a forest fire with that tale of hers. Wait a minute. You think this alien's a soul-eater?' Larak was almost indignant at the notion. 'Hey, Afra, that was kid stuff.' 'I can't think of another analogue. I spent no more than ten or fifteen seconds, in a light secondary link, and I had to use gestalt to reach you at Procyon.' 'That's not good,' Larak said. 'That's very bad.

What's wrong with Damia? Doesn't she realize... No, obviously she doesn't.' Larak slid into the second conformable couch, his eyes flickering as he considered and discarded thoughts.

'Damia mentioned the residue you two felt from Beetle artifacts.

There's something comparable to your sting on board Sodan's vessel.

And it's not comfortable.' 'Fissionables?' Larak asked.

Afra shook his head. 'It is very alien. I couldn't define it.' 'Can Damia?' Afra grimaced. 'She's involved in translating abstracts.' 'Those'll be a great help if he plans to blow us up.' Larak tensed.

'What has she said about us? The League?' 'From what she reports, she's been discreet.' 'That's a mercy.' Afra could sense that Larak's flippancy disguised a concern for Damia as deep as his own. Larak had always been closest to her. 'I wouldn't mind what they discussed,' he said, 'but Sodan leaves her so drained.' 'New kind of weapon - total enervation before annihilation?' 'That's not as outrageous as you think,' Afra said grimly.

'There's a tremendous power source in the ship 'There'd have to be to push it between galaxies 'But that's all I could sense. Beyond the public mind, I met an impenetrable wall. Granted, Damia '5 much stronger than I am 'But she hasn't tried?' Afra frowned, and rising, began to pace restlessly back and forth in the narrow Tower.

Larak held Afra's glance, and then sighed.

'But there's been no overt act of aggression?' 'That depends on what you call "aggression". I believe that Sodan is subtly trying to destroy Damia in the process of this peaceful exchange of culture and information. In my lexicon, eroding her mental capability is an assault with intent to maim or kill.' He saw that remark succeeded in arousing all Larak's natural fraternal concern and protectiveness. 'I could be overreacting. I'm no pre-cog but there are instances in which one doesn't need to be to guess intent. Judge for yourself when you see Damia this evening.' Larak did not bother to shield his anger. 'I will but I've never seen you overreact, Afra. Apart from the danger to my sister, just how close is this Sodan to Iota Aurigae? Close enough to recognize this system as Damia's point of origin?' Afra managed a wry grin. 'You're a real Tower-man, Lar.' Larak gave a quick unhumorous grin. 'A Gwyn-Raven, body, blood and brain!' 'Logically,' Afra continued, 'we have to allow him the same sophistication in monitoring devices as he has in travel capability. So he's certain to detect sufficient activity on this planet to attract,' and Afra paused, searching for the appropriate phrase, 'his attention. Since a high tech society gobbles ores, minerals and rare earths at phenomenal rates, it is reasonable to assume that he's crossed to our galaxy to find new sources.

'Are we assuming aggression where none exists?' Larak asked, playing devil's advocate.

Afra paused, 'We could be. The Beetles made their plans exceedingly clear but they might be exceptions to the rule of peaceful exploration. Only I cannot get it out of my mind that the Sodan is deliberately depleting Damia '5 energy to reduce her ability to defend herself. And I've never had such a presentiment of danger before - not even when I was mind-merged with the Rowan-focus over Deneb.' 'If we must eradicate the threat this Sodan entity poses, I'd say it would be wiser to do it now, rather than later when he's closer to this system,' Larak replied, pressing his lips tight against that expedient. 'Should we call for naval backup?' 'Ha! Sodan'd be orbiting Aurigae before the Fleet would bestir itself to action,' Afra replied derisively.

'Especially right now,' and Larak's grin was amused, 'when they're investigating the nibbles at Procyon's DEW system.

'What?' Afra stared at Larak, struck by a horror of several Sodans converging on the Nine Star League.

Larak was delighted at the effect of that casual statement.

'They're keeping it to a need-to-know basis but don't worry. So far it's been limited to unidentifiable impingements,' and Larak shook his head vigorously to reassure the Capellan, 'and neither the scouts nor all that sensitive instrumentation has revealed anything in the least bit hostile. Those sentinels are sensitive enough to be set off by spaceflot or cometaries. This Sodan's modus operandi seems to be entirely different. We Talents destroyed the Beetles more or less by ourselves. I think we can handle this mental giant.

Afra gave a mirthless laugh. 'We'll be lucky if we can.' He nodded briskly when Larak regarded him with astonishment. 'Oh, yes, that mind is incredibly powerful.

Not at all like the Beetles where there were only sixteen control beings that had to be diverted. And, if he has been insidiously reducing Damia's strength or getting past her shields. -' Afra paused, adding very softly, his yellow eyes clouded, 'he could quite possibly destroy us.' 'Let's get Dad and Mother in on this,' Larak said in sudden resolution.

Together the two soberly presented their conclusions to Jeff and the Rowan.

Surely if you were an alien contacted by a strong mentality, you would exercise caution in revealing details? the Rowan suggested. I would, if I met a mind in outer space.

You did, Jeff reminded her, and I was very friendly indeed.

Jeff If this Sodan is draining Damia, he means her, and us, no good, Jeff went on, speaking in an official tone. We are agreed that Afra does not cry panic unnecessarily so we must act on his recommendations and now, before this entity gets close enough to investigate the Aurigaen system. Especially before he discovers the Aurigaen system and the rich lodes on that planet. I'm also keenly aware of how little defence Iota Aurigae has against space attack.

You concur with Afra that he's prospecting for new sources of raw materials? the Rowan asked, in a tone of indecision.

That's our main push in finding new planets, isn't it? Larak said If Damia is as exhausted as you suggest, Afra, how can we use her as focus? In the first place, she's not likely to agree to take aggressive action against an entity she considers friendly.

She spoke as Damia's mother, not Callisto Prime.

No, she's not, Afra said sourly.

And yet we need to use her link to his mind to make our own contact. There's also the point that, Jeff continued, not at all liking the expedient, if we do discover, and prove to her, that this Sodan entity is truly dangerous, to her, to Aurigae, to us, that we may need her catalytic ability to increase our defence against him.

Each day Damia returns to Aurigae a little more tired than the previous one, Afra said slowly. I was immeasurably drained after only a few moments in link. That's never happened to me before.

I think Afra's correct to call him a soul-eater, Larak put in.

There's no such thing, the Rowan said sharply.

I don't know what else to call him that's as accurate, Afra said.

Or how else to describe the effect he has on her.

In any case, Jeff said firmly, I find it disturbing to think of her immense natural energy being depleted.

Highly unlikely. The Rowan bristled with indignation.

Let us conclude this swiftly, Larak cautioned them.

Damia's returning and. WOW! Is she dragging!

Afra suppressed annoyance that the curious childhood link between sister and brother gave Larak the edge in sensing her return. But, as Afra reached out to touch her mentally, her aura was very dim indeed.

He concentrated on the lightning debate that Jeff, Rowan and Larak carried on, as decision and strategy were settled in the moment before Damia's capsule landed in its cradle.

'Larak, I couldn't believe I felt your touch,' she cried happily as she saw her brother, the picture of casual relaxation, perched on the edge of the console.

'Believe it, sister dear, your favorite bra is here,' he said, rising to embrace her. 'This alien sure has got you wrapped up and tied like a present. See how the mighty have fallen.' When Damia flushed, Larak roared with laughter. 'I've got to meet a guy who can do this to my sister.' 'Really, Larak, how puerile! You obviously have no conception of what a momentous occasion this is. I've always felt that I was given unusual strengths and abilities for a special reason,' Damia said, her eyes shining, 'and now I know what it is!' 'The whole planet will know in a moment if you don't reduce your output,' Afra said sharply, to give Larak a chance to control his shock at her extraordinary remark.

With some resentment, Damia dampened down her emotional outpouring.

'I suppose you arrived with an appetite like a mule,' she said with some resignation.

Larak's expression was a study of innocent hurt.

'I'm a growing boy, and while you're out courting, Afra's getting overworked, leaner and hungrier.

Damia looked guiltily at Afra.