it be legal if he volunteered? But he was only offering to open himself to voice-analogue, worded thoughts, not to any real contact. The temptation was so intense she knew she’d abuse his trust if she permitted herself to accept. She lurched to her feet and started for the door.
She’d gone only two steps when his sympathy overwhelmed her. She turned. His hands were folded neatly on the table, his eyes closed, and out of him beat wave upon wave of pure feeling. Not images, not verbalized thoughts, just sympathy. Not pity. Sympathy. He knew what she hungered for.
His Guild training, whatever it was, had fostered his ability to concentrate and to focus emotion to such a fine degree that he might as well have been luren. The air around him throbbed with power.
All at once, it was too much for her. //If you’re so brave, then come to my quarters tonight and listen!//
She wrenched herself around and plunged out into the corridor. Behind her, the throbbing waves of sympathy cut off. He didn’t mean it. He’ll report me. As it was her job to watch the luren, so there were those who watched her. If he’d been testing her, she’d failed. No. He’s my friend. He wouldn’t trap me like that.
She flung herself against the hatch of the Window Room, set her palm against the AUTHORIZED PERSONNEL sign, and waited for the hatch to yield. It took its time identifying her, but then she was inside, sealed off from the mental chaos of hundreds of minds. She paused in the lounge to catch her breath, hardly aware of the subdued lighting, the bland decor, or the standard chairs, racks, and perches.
“You’re early.” A voice came from a speaker. There was no glad welcome in it, but no rejection either.
“Oh. Lee. I wanted to work the courier traffic. We’re approaching range now, right?”
“Yes. I was just about to Search. Come on out.”
She pushed through an airlock and into the Window itself. It was a huge, visually and telepathically transparent bubble set into the skin of the ship, so that they seemed to be working in a waist-high pit with nothing over them but space and stars. Their fighter escort wasn’t visible, and the solar system they were approaching was barely distinguishable from the more distant stars.
Three communications workstations were set into a circular rim. Ship’s intercom, transmitters, recorders, and screens for all manner of data displays surrounded each workstation. Lee, Com Second, was alone.
He turned to look up at her. Lee was a slightly built human with a dark complexion and the most beautiful black eyes she’d ever seen. But they were neutral, not friendly. //The courier is the Otroub. My record shows their Com Officer is Etha Ckam. Do you know her?//
Adopting the formal, businesslike manner she’d been taught, she slid into the place at his right and brought up her screens. //We’ve met. She seems competent.// Actually, Ckam was one of the few Kyllikki seriously hoped would become a friend one day. Otroub, according to the records she had before her, would be in traffic range for two hours. //I’m showing a long list of messages for Otroub. Apparently their owners have been trying to get in touch with them by relay.//
//Yeah. Something about Sa’ar Stock needing transport. You know, orl, the experimental animals the luren make.//
//I know about orl. We carry some to feed luren.//
//Sa’ar designs special laboratory animals, one of the few things we still import from the Teleod despite the war.//
//The luren citadels are officially neutral. What they import—or export—is strictly legal. Zuchmul was telling me yesterday how careful they are about that.//
//Yeah,// answered Lee, //but Zuchmul hasn’t heard the latest. Now that the scion of the Sa’ar family, the richest luren family in Metaji or Teleod, is missing with a shipload of expensive orl, the Teleod is saying that we—the Duke of Fotel, actually—captured the Sa’ar and his orl as hostages.//
//Why would a Duke want to antagonize the luren?//
//Who knows? But Otroub is owned by D’sillin Service, which is luren owned and based on one of Fotel’s fiefs. If Sa’ar is dealing with Fotel, willing or not, it could affect the outcome of the war. Deny that, if you can.//
//Can’t. But if Fotel wanted Otroub to transport hostages, they wouldn’t be filling space with the message. No, the Sa’ar was lost, just like hundreds of others. Luren in the Teleod use their own ships, a design that can’t be relied on anymore, from the days when they didn’t even carry life pods. Sa’ar runs a fleet of them. Or used to.//
Prosperity was older yet, and carried a full complement of life pods, which lets them charge extra for passage now.
//Well, maybe he was just lost, then,// he allowed. He glanced at her, and she picked up an unworded idea. Unless the Sa’ar heir is defecting, like she did, and bringing the luren with him. In which case, I’ll bet she knows.
She bent over her station, poking things at random, struggling to discipline her mind. But it was too late. She felt Lee’s thoughts recede as if stung. Her heart stopped. Metaji protocols demanded working telepaths stay out of each other’s minds. Shog! I hate this place!
“What’s the matter, Kyllikki?” His barriers were so tight she might have been hearing a voice transmission.
At least he’s not crying traitor. Her heart slammed into action again. She bent to repair the damage she’d done to her displays. “I’m sorry. I’ve been nervous all day.”
“I guess I can understand how hard it must be here for you. I just do this kind of work because I’m not much good at anything else. You were bred for it.”
Not for this kind of work, she wanted to say. She had been bred for the total immersion of the Dreambond, the unique linkage that could form only between a member of the Eight Families, like Kyllikki, and a Dreamer. That linkage was illegal in both Teleod and Metaji, and the Dreamers were confined to their planet. In the Teleod, Bonders like Kyllikki had to survive on an occasional deep contact, and when it got particularly bad, there were drugs to blunt the need. But not here. Her Metaji retraining had supposedly conditioned her to block out even that need. Until today, it had. She met Lee’s eyes. “You’re right. The work will steady my coordination so I won’t make any more...mistakes.”
“That’s what it was, ill-coordination?” She assented and he got to his feet, shutting down his station. //All yours, then, Com Third.// His mental voice was disciplined, distant, perfectly modulated.
But even so, the surface touch was such a tremendous relief that she looked up at him with a grin of pure joy. //Thank you, Lee.// She turned to log onto the bridge stations and accept the hails from the bridge officers who were surprised to find her on duty already. As Lee departed, she sealed herself into the Window, making sure she wouldn’t be disturbed when her mental barriers were down, and at the same time she readied a file for incoming traffic and began the mental Search Lee had been about to do for Otroub and the courier’s Com Officer, Ckam.
In moments, she had forgotten herself in the routine of tracking the approach to the Barkyr system, exchanging relayed greetings, and coordinating with Prosperity’s three matched escort ships, Gita One, Gita Two, and Gita Three.
Each escort fighter carried a crew of three, one of whom was a marginal telepath with minimal training and range. Such talent was plentiful enough to be expendable, or so the military thought.
The
