The Tower and the Hive (18 page)

 

“You're Vagrian Beliakin, aren't you?”

Since the words were spoken close to a tone that was almost a challenge, Beliakin looked up at the woman who had stopped at his table. He felt her shields resist his initial touch. She was only marginally attractive and he was far too involved with Tarmina d'Estes to need to seek additional female companionship.

“I'm T-2 and a far sender,” she said, with a twist of her lips that bordered on mocking.

Beliakin rose and gestured for her to be seated opposite him. He had chosen a table well away from the other Talents enjoying meals in the spacious and restfully decorated Blundell dining room. He had had an exhausting morning with Gollee Gren, and really did not want any company. But she had in effect challenged him; he had to respond, however briefly.

“Clarissia Negeva,” she said, sliding awkwardly into a chair.

Nerves,
Vagrian thought, and gave her one of his reassuring smiles. Her reaction was a deep flush of blood to her face, and she averted her gaze to some point over his left shoulder. She'd be easy, he thought.

“I lasted longer at Clarf Tower than you did,” she said, composing herself and her telltale color, clasping thin hands in front of her on the table and leaning toward him. Now she regarded the pulse in his throat rather than his face.

“Did you?” He fought to stifle the burst of anger her comment roused in him. He had been given to understand by Gollee Gren that the abortive incident had been expunged from the record. His common sense took over. Tarmina certainly hadn't known, nor had any other of those he had been in contact with. All the testers had assumed he was being reassessed. He was certain that if that abortive mission were known, he'd've been aware of either ridicule or prurient interest. He managed to keep his expression pleasantly puzzled as a third consideration occurred to him. If somehow this Negeva woman had information that was not normally available to others in Blundell Tower, she might be worth cultivating. He intended to pay back Clarf Tower's Prime no matter how long it took. “May I ask how you knew that I had been to Clarf?”

Her lips moved slightly, and although she did not give him a direct look, he felt positive that she too had a bone to pick with Laria Lyon.

“I have a friend, a good friend, in the yard,” she said. “He had been on duty when you were 'ported and saw your precipitous return. He thought I should be informed.”

“Why?”

Even though Vagrian had come late to his Talent, he knew from his brother's conversations at home that Talents did not generally avoid direct eye contact—since they could shield their true thoughts from all but the most determined invasion. In the point of courtesy on a first encounter, Negeva had neglected to offer him her hand ... almost an insult between Talents. While he was not a strong 'path, this close he could read her deep enough to find some reason for her approaching him. He ignored the fact that she'd been rattled by his smile: few women failed to respond—generally in positive ways. He resolved to make sure they made a tactile contact before she left his company.

She leaned even closer, lowering her voice, and now her eyes met his, anger and a sort of implacable hatred easy to note.

“That family dominates FT&T and they have no right to do so. They make arbitrary decisions and enforce them on us in an unjust and humiliating manner. They are weasel lovers, every single one of them!”

“You're referring to the Gwyn-Raven-Lyon clan?” he asked, lounging back in his seat because her breath was sour. Probably from the curdled enmity that festered in her skinny frame.

“Who else? They have all the best Towers, all the best accommodations. They sit in judgment on every single Talent and they don't ... have ... that ... right!” Her eyes had narrowed and she had had to lower her voice as she stressed that opinion.

“Who's to oppose them?” Beliakin asked.

“They haven't enslaved all the T-1's in our worlds.”

“Really?” This was news to him.

“By no means. Nor all the T-2's. Furthermore”—she gestured for him to close the gap between them—“they ignore the clairvoyant as if they were dirt.”

“And there has been a prediction that the mighty will fall?” he asked, feigning a hopeful anticipation.

“Of course. The higher they are, the harder they will fall. And fall they will. Then we will assume our rightful positions in the Towers, and annul the infamous Alliance. We have no more need of those ... creatures!” She gave a shudder of repugnance.

“Disgusting,” Beliakin said ambiguously.

“And giving worlds
we Humans
discovered with our advanced technology to ...
them ...
when
we
are to be given what's left over is intolerable. No more promising colony sites can be so summarily just
given away!
Our future generations will be denied their rights of expansion on worlds that have been just
handed over
to ...
them.”

Beliakin tightened his shields against this woman's intrusion, though it occurred to him simultaneously that she was so wrapped up in her angry spiel that she was taking no notice of his reactions. Personally, he had no objections to the Mrdini. She was patently xenophobic. That species had taken the brunt of centuries of war against the Hivers. Their long struggle should have some rewards. As far as he knew, the one world released to the Mrdini would have been too hot to be comfortable for Human residence. On the other hand, he didn't like the Hivers at all, having taken an opportunity to see the queen imprisoned at Heinlein Moon Base. That creature revolted him more than 'Dinis could—it and the scurrying forms that it had hatched from its mound of eggs. So the Mrdini were welcome to Talavera. The sun would fry an egg on a rock by midday. However, he was definitely curious about her group and wondered just how many Talents might be involved in any effort to overthrow the Primes. Though how that could be achieved was beyond him. On the other hand, reporting on their dissidence might be one way to nullify the Clarf disaster with FT&T.

“Are there many who feel as you ... and I?” he asked in a low conspiratorial tone, as if he agreed with her opinions.

“More than you'd believe,” she murmured. Then abruptly she rose. “I shall contact you. I shall use the word expunge so that you will know it is I contacting you and you will open your mind to me.”

Not if I can help it,
Beliakin thought, but he rose too, and tightly shielding his thoughts as he'd been taught, extended his hand. She regarded it suspiciously and he could certainly sense her hesitation without any benefit of Talent. Her fingers gave his a glancing touch. He gleaned very little from it, but enough to know that this Talent could be dangerous in her hatred of the Gwyn-Raven-Lyon family. As he watched her stalk—yes, that was the right word—out of the dining facility, he wondered if he could effect a revenge on Laria Lyon without being tainted by whatever devious plans Negeva and her group had in mind. That is, if these had not already been “seen” by other, more sensitive Talents. She was, however, a T-2, and a sender was apt to have better shielding from any but a T-1. What a very odd creature she was. And viciously xenophobic! Talents were supposed, by the very nature of their abilities, to practice tolerance. Of most things ... He finished his meal, discarded the dishes and made it to his appointment with Gollee Gren to see what his new assignment was going to be. He wondered to which boondock he'd now be sent after his utter failure at Clarf. Hopefully where that wretched female couldn't reach him, no matter how strong a sender she claimed she was. He did wonder, however, just how many agreed with her sentiments. Generally speaking—and it was why he was so jealous of Yoshuk—Talents enjoyed many more privileges and more prestige than any other profession in the galaxy. Few made full use of all such advantages. He intended to—that is, if he was any place where he could use the perks. What he found hard to understand in Negeva was why any disaffected person would wish to destroy ... No, she didn't wish destruction, she wished a larger role. Beliakin knew there were factions dissatisfied with the Alliance, with the distribution of colonizable worlds (once Hivers had been dispossessed) and with the Mrdini in particular. Since weasel haters generally had little if any contact with the 'Dinis, he couldn't see what upset them so much. In any event, he still had a score to even with Laria Lyon by whatever agency came his way, even as unattractive and virulent a one as Negeva. And he'd get Kincaid Dano at the same time. Whistling happily at such a prospect, he took the lift to the administrative level.

 

“Iota Aurigae?” Vagrian stared in disbelief at Gren.

“You'd be working with two of the top Talents in FT&T, you know,” Gren said, “and I can assure you that the contretemps at Clarf will not be repeated. In fact, your kinetic ability is very much why you're being posted there.”

“I thought the family handled all traffic,” Vagrian said, temporizing as he assimilated the fact. Such a posting had been so far out of possibility that he couldn't believe it. Was this a tacit apology for Laria's treatment? Damia and Afra Raven-Lyon offering him such a post to make amends for the vagary of their daughter? Considering its distance from the other main solar systems, Iota Aurigae could be considered a boondock, being a very recently developed mining world, but it was gaining prominence and expanding as the need for its ore resources increased. Topmost in his mind was the realization that he'd be able to hunt there—an activity frowned on by the more sophisticated worlds as archaic, or nonexistent as on Clarf, and one that he thoroughly enjoyed and excelled at. Afra was almost legendary as the Rowan's T-2 partner until he married her daughter Damia Gwyn-Raven and they took over Iota Aurigae Tower, producing ... what was it ... eight T-1 offspring? Or were all the kids gone now? Not that it mattered. If he proved his capabilities as a strong kinetic at their Tower, he'd achieve an enviable reputation at FT&T. And he might also just happen to find out how to get back at Laria. Nothing like the home ground to discover the precise way to wound her the most. He had absolutely no reservations about working with the Capellan T-2, but Damia was known to have inherited the same volatile temper as her mother, the Rowan. Well, most of the Primes he knew anything about had tempers. Came with the awesome responsibility, he supposed. Were they aware of his calamity at Clarf? Could there be an ulterior motive to that posting? Apart from rectifying their daughter's unexpected rejection of him?

“The family has, until recently, handled the Tower,” Gren was saying, and Beliakin paid attention, trying to catch any shielded thought. Gren did have unusually tight barriers, but his public mind was quite open as he went on. “As you probably know, all the Raven-Lyon children are T-1's, so they are assigned off-planet to broaden their experience. They're down to the two youngest, who are not old enough to assist as fully. You would be working with several indigenous Aurigaeans who had breakthrough stimulation similar to your own—a mining accident in their case.” Gren's expression was rueful. “It's easier if one comes less abruptly to the emergence of Talent, but we can use every one we can classify. Both Damia and Afra have had experience with bringing on latent Talents.”

“Yes, of course,” Beliakin said, realizing some comment on his part would be courteous.

“That also was a factor in assigning you to Iota Aurigae. A T-2 of your kinetic strength is such a find for FT&T at this particular moment in time”—Gren smiled in a manner that bordered on apology—“that perhaps we might have pushed you a tad too quickly where your abilities were most needed, with the mass of material Clarf Tower's had to process lately. The Lyons—and rightly—are treated with great caution and respect. It wasn't easy to find suitable Talents for Clarf.”

Gren sounded sincere, Beliakin thought. Perhaps Clarissia Negeva had simply not been up to the work on Clarf and transferred before she could mess things up. Or the Prime hadn't liked her. That was more understandable. Negeva was not an attractive person ... and xenophobic too. Not a good mind-set for working on Clarf. Perhaps he should avoid any further contact with her. Their cases were not at all similar.

“There's also good hunting on Iota Aurigae, which is, I realize from your transcript, one of your avocations. Tower House has an excellent stable and the hills are full of game, large and small and not so easy to bring down, I might add.” Gren's lips twitched as if he was remembering unsuccessful experiences. “Damia has issued an invitation for you to stay with the family if you wish—though there are new and well-appointed apartments in the city and transport would be no problem for you.” He consulted his notepad, checking off another item. “Living accommodation is in addition to your salary, and you have the usual privileges of importing whenever drone space is available. It usually is. Drones may be full enough leaving Iota Aurigae, but they're mainly empty on the return trip. Personal effects above and beyond what will fit in a personnel carrier will be forwarded ...” Beliakin waved aside that consideration, since he had little in the way of impedimenta and no wish to import anything from a homeworld that had little to recommend it except that he had escaped its bucolic lifestyle. “Would you be agreeable to leaving here at twenty-two hundred hours?”

“Today?”

“Yes, if that's convenient. You'd arrive late afternoon at Aurigae and be able to settle in before dinner.” Gren regarded him and then added, “I believe there're six big daddies—as they call the ore transports—to be heaved to Betelgeuse tomorrow, so you'd have a chance to demonstrate your kinetic abilities. Which, may I say, are the strongest we've ever measured in a latecomer.”