Lyon's Pride (9 page)

“I'm just Thian,” he laughed, disclaiming any title, “and these are Mur and Dip.”

“
FLV TRUSTS THAT YOUR DREAMS HAVE BEEN GOOD
,” she said in excellent 'Dini.

Score one for the child
, the Rowan said privately to her grandson.

And Granddad
, Thian said with a sparkle in his eyes as he opened the hatch for the women.

“Do your 'Dinis mind 'portations, Thian?” the Rowan asked.

“Not any more,” he said and closed the hatch behind him.

He clasped Mur and Dip against his legs, nodding to the Rowan that he was ready to 'port. They all did, arriving in the corridor outside the
Genesee
's conference room. The Rowan tapped the panel for admittance and a yeowoman smartly opened the door. All within stood at her entry and
throughout her introductions of her grandson and Flavia Bastianmajani of Altair.

Thian kept his expression bland as mixed comments reverberated from minds keyed up in anticipation of action. “He's bigger than Rojer.” “That young slip of a girl's a Prime?” “Quite a family resemblance to Rojer with that same white lock of hair.” “Wouldn't mind Priming with her.” “Carries himself well.” “She's a bit young for this sort of operation, isn't she?” “So this is the fellow who spent over a year on a 'Dini ship alone! That took guts.” “Why on earth did he bother to save Hive larvae? Sometimes I don't understand these Talented people.” “Two women and one male barely into manhood to move
that
mass?” “I wonder will Rojer turn out as well.”

And Thian identified the thinker of that remark as the pretty dark-haired astrogation officer, Anis Langio. There was nothing subtle in his grandfather's seconding of Flavia to this mission, and she was certainly a lovely young woman, but Thian was
not
going to settle quite so quickly into the family pattern of an early marriage.

Captain Osullivan formally made Flavia, Thian and his 'Dini companions welcome. Then, with the Rowan on his right side, and Flavia on his left with Thian seated beside her, he opened the official final planning conference. The captain was certainly not in on any of his grandfather's machinations, but Thian was extremely conscious of Flavia's proximity, aware of the delicate scent she wore, of the pulse of her very finely tuned and attentive mind. After a year on the
KLTS
, he had mastered the art of concentration.

“This is, as I'm sure you're all aware, the first time the Alliance has taken action against a Hive world. You have all seen tapes of the ground-to-air missile attack on the refugee ship but we also know the extent of its range. However,
we must not be for a moment lax in vigilance against any unsuspected retaliatory strikes.”

Mrtgrts nodded in verification of that caution.

“As you also know, the Rowan has already 'ported explosives into the assigned positions to destroy the orbiting ships. Heat-seeking missiles are ready in each ship of the Squadron for use in destroying any shuttle craft lifting through the mess they leave in orbit around their planet. Operation Snatch,” and Osullivan grinned, his gaze ending on Flavia's attentive face, “can begin as soon as our Primes are in position. Once the refugee sphere is out of range of surface missiles, the other ships will be blown. We will then seed additional space mines in case the Hive do still have scout ship capability that has not been detected by Rojer Lyon's intensive probing.” He nodded briefly at Thian for his brother's accomplishment. “Are there any questions?”

After a brief pause, Thian raised his hand. “Grandmother, Flavia, may I escort you to our vehicle so we can get this show on the road?”

“You may be mixing metaphors, Isthian, but if Commander Metrios's engines are ready to support gestalt…” She turned to Mrtgrts and Captain Quacho. “Are you ready to return to your own ships?”

“Ready indeed, ma'am,” the engineer said, but his last word was spoken to empty air for all five had gone. “I wish they wouldn't do that!” he murmured, giving a shake.

“Stations, everyone,” Captain Osullivan said, rising. “Red alert!”

*   *   *

“This must be the captain's own,” Thian said as the three T-1s made themselves comfortable in the escape pod. “It's a lot roomier than the last one I was in.”

“For three, yes, it's roomy enough,” the Rowan said. “Shall we?” and she nodded at both young people.

“Of course,” Flavia said and Thian murmured consent. This would be a brief rehearsal for the longer, harder merge they would have to make.

He'd never worked with his grandmother but he was accustomed to merging with his parents and was very pleased when Flavia deftly slipped in behind him as if she had similar hours of practice.

The Rowan-Thian-Flavia merge did not need to touch the power available to it from the linked generators of the three ships of Squadron B in this initial push. The cargo area to which they were 'porting could have held a hundred escape pods. Merely the slightest bump gave them notice that the pod had settled on its broad base in the Hive ship exactly as planned: close against the hull, facing the direction in which it was to go. They were immediately assailed by the most intense sting-pzzt that emanated from Hive metals, a sensation peculiarly limited to the Talented.

Flavia gave a visible shudder, looking about her, a grimace marring her features. “What is
that?
”

“I do beg your pardon, Flavia, we should have thought to warn you,” the Rowan said, casting an accusatory glance at Thian. “Talent is susceptible to a resonance from Hive metals.”

Flavia worked her mouth, producing saliva, and shuddered again.

“Unpleasant taste in your mouth, too?” Thian asked helpfully.

She swallowed. “Yes, at the back of my throat. How can you stand it?”

“I,”
the Rowan said rather loftily, “ignore it.” When Flavia looked astonished, the Rowan relented. “It is particularly strong since we are inside a Hiver, but shortly we'll
be busy enough to be able to put it out of our minds. We'll only have to endure it for a very short space of time.”

“Thank goodness for that,” Flavia said, pursing her lips and rubbing her tongue against her cheeks and teeth in an attempt to hydrate her mouth.

The Rowan initiated the merge then, ever so slowly pushing the ship out of its orbit and the gravitational pull of the planet. Since the maneuver was also being performed as night fell across this section of the planet, the stealthy movement was unlikely to be immediately discernible no matter how sensitive the Hive instrumentation might be.

Breathe, Isthian
, his grandmother said once and he grinned at her as she sat in the padded seat as calmly as if she were in her Tower at Callisto, her silver hair shining in the pod's lights.

Gradually the merge increased its strength, three pairs of eyes also watching the special instrumentation installed in the pod that expressed speed and relative distance from the planet. Slowly they reached the mark on the dial showing when they had passed beyond the known range of surface-launched missiles.

Stop hunching your shoulders, you two
, she added at a later point.
Any missile they could launch would have to penetrate the diameter of the ship to reach us. If, that is, they had any idea we are here
.

That made both Thian and Flavia smile. He rotated his shoulder blades because he had indeed been unconsciously hunching himself against an attack from the rear. He grinned at Flavia who was rubbing her neck and still trying to swallow the sting-pzzt away.

“Good. Now we can speed up and complete this snatch,” the Rowan said, absently licking her lips and swallowing against the concentration of sting-pzzt.

He felt the intensity of the merge now and surrendered
himself to her guidance at the same instant that Flavia did. He hadn't even thought to be capable of moving such mass but, with the merge and the gestalt capability, it was abruptly accomplished. He did feel the drop in his energy level when his grandmother released them from the merge and then the slight jar as the tractor beams from the squadron latched onto the sphere.

“I do hope something down there was watching,” the Rowan said with a mischievous smile more compatible to his sister Morag's age and habit than his grandmother's. “First the ship was there. And then,” her smile deepened with great satisfaction, “it wasn't! Well done, Isthian. You've been well-taught, Flavia, and my pleasure to merge with such fine strong minds. Now, let's get out of this Hive sink of contamination and put the pod where it belongs. Then we can find out what else has been happening.”

“I feel like I need a good long soak to rid me of that awful reek,” Flavia said, making another grimace of revulsion.

“Later, when our work is done, my dear,” the Rowan said. “We will have time, however, for a drink to take the taste out of our mouths.”

“Something sharp, Grandmother, like orange juice.”

“Does this ship have something like that?”

Thian “provided” the juice in long cold glasses to Flavia's obvious relief and his grandmother's only marginally less fervent thanks.

*   *   *

“You were far enough away not to have felt any shock waves,” Captain Osullivan said when they joined him on a bridge that was packed with officers and crew, and ringed with additional screens so that every view of the theatre of operations was accessed. “Ah, that's our first casualty,” Osullivan added, pointing to a screen which had just ceased broadcasting. “One of the probes Rojer hid in the flotsam.”

“The ships?” Thian asked, rapidly checking the secondary screens.

“Reduced to the debris you see floating in a band around the planet,” the captain said with quiet satisfaction. “What the bombs you placed, ma'am, didn't fragment, the mines you sowed did. Mind you, there is a time lag between the event and our visuals of it…”

“Do any monitors need replacement?” the Rowan asked. “Now that we've completed Operation Snatch, we are at your disposal. Thian? Flavia?”

The Rowan took the couch, Commander Metrios vacated his seat with alacrity to Flavia and another chair was brought for Thian.

“Well-timed, ma'am,” the captain said, pointing in turn to the three central screens which scanned the space field. “They may now retaliate.”

“Indeed,” said the Rowan with an almost primitive surge of adrenalin as she recognized the tapered prow of a Hive scout ship emerging from an underground hangar.

“Mrtgrts here, Osullivan,” said the 'Dinis' liaison officer's unmistakable voice over the Squadron link. “Is the second wave ready?”

“It is,” the Rowan answered. “Isthian, you will use the missiles on the
KTTS
, as you're more familiar with 'Dini ships. Flavia, have you located the
Arapahoe
's? Good. It's as easy for us to work from here as on the separate ships.” She waited until she could feel the young Talents “reaching” the missiles on the other ships, her eyes never leaving the screen as first one scout ship, then another, and a third became visible. “Three. The normal complement of a Hive colonial ship. They'd be a much more interesting challenge if they changed their tactics,” she added almost ruefully. “Isthian, take the right-hand one; Flavia, the one that's just emerging;
and I'll dispose of the one that made it to the field. I believe it's about to launch. At my count…three, two, ONE!”

Each Prime 'ported the heavy torpedoes easily to the recommended range. Then, before the Hiver world's warning systems could alert defenses, launched them at the correct velocity for devastating strikes.

There was, as Captain Osullivan said, a time lag before the screens would register the result, but all three Talents had followed the missiles to their targets and knew their strikes had been accurate. Until visible proof appeared, Metrios toyed with a stylus, his eyes darting from one screen to the next. Though Captain Osullivan appeared completely at his ease, his fingers beat a tattoo on his arm rest. Minutes later, the explosions were recorded.

In what appeared to be a leisurely fashion, each of the three ships exploded, parts arcing up and then showering down on the trundling Hivers that had been massed on the space field. The debris fell almost gracefully to the now riddled surface and lay smoking and burning in a circle of destruction that spread well beyond the perimeter of the space facility.

“Someone's left the doors open,” Thian remarked.

“In that case,” the Rowan said with a shrug, “let us take advantage of such carelessness.”

Even as additional missiles were armed and sent on their way by the three Talents, more hangar doors punched upward out of the debris on the field, revealing the squat forms of shuttle craft. These emerged at speed from the protection of the hangars, but not swiftly enough.

“Fire as ready,” the Rowan ordered Thian and Flavia and they lobbed missiles at the shuttles and then into an aperture that could be seen through the smoke and raging fires.

“Is this their only space facility?” Thian asked when no
more targets were visible. “There are other substantial buildings on the planet.”

“They seem to be agricultural collection depots,” Captain Osullivan said.

“Such is not a target,” the Rowan said, glancing sternly at Thian, who shrugged.

“Did the probes not discover where the queens are housed?” Mrtgrts asked.

“No,” Osullivan replied. “We were limited to observational probes, not reconnaissance.”

“The queens are effectively planet-bound,” the Rowan said. “Further action has not been authorized.”

“We will remain on orange alert,” Osullivan said, touching the arm plate for intership communications. “Captains? Any queries?”

“A successful attack,” Captain Quacho said, his brows drawn together in what seemed to be a satisfied scowl.