A powerful thrust sent the carrier spinning into the void, reality warping as mental kinesis took the small pod from above the planet Clarf and sent it into the warm grasp of the Rowan's mind hovering in space above the station on Callisto. It had been a near impossible decision for Laria and Kincaid, but eventually they had realized they simply couldn't teach their son everything he needed to know on Clarf, especially considering he likely would not be posted on a Dini world. He was 20 years old, and knew more than most humans ever would about dini life and the culture on their planets, but his grasp of Tower protocol was weak, and his experience with human culture was limited to family visits to Iota Aurigae, Deneb, and when his many aunts, uncles, cousins, and other relations came to visit.
The idea of sending him away had been enough to leave Laria in tears, but her mind merged with her long time partner's and together they had lifted their son and sent him to live with his great grandmother. Their other children were all young enough to stay at home, but the age gap between their eldest and his siblings was significant. The best thing was to have him live somewhere that he could deal with a personality as large as his own.
Jeff Lyon-Dano was tall and thin, like both his parents, with thick dark hair and that ever present shock of white hair that marked him as one of the many descendants of a certain Altairian Loon. His streak was just above his right eye and did much to enhance his first impressions with most people. Living on Clarf, with its hot sun, had left him tanned and spending as much time as he did in the rivers to keep cool had helped give him a natural swimmer's build. Dressed in his formal greens, he looked quite fetching, and he knew it.
His mother was relatively calm, stable, the rock in his life. But, she was like that in most things. It was his father who taught Jeff to know his own worth and not be ashamed of it. With the many Ravens, Lyons, Eagles, and numerous other Denebian clans, and their relatives, running out over the galaxy in T&T and the Navy, a Prime Port and Path with a shock of white hair wasn't abnormal anymore. Nor was it a guarantee of a prestigious posting. His cousins had spent much of their lives on human planets or on Navy ships, and that had given them an advantage. Between his mother's suggestion and a personal interview across the lightyears, Jeff had managed to talk his way into a position working with the Rowan.
His carrier set down with barely a hint of motion, and he smiled, feeling the mental touch receding from his pod. He was here. Lifting the door of the pod, he stepped out into the Dome and let his mind take it all in. Men and women bustling to and fro, their hands filled with clipboards, hand held computers, and other miscellany, some even had a cloud of objects floating along beside them using their Talent in an overt manner. There were a few dini helping move loads, but no where near as many as at Clarf Tower.
"Move it or get back in the pod and get off my floor, kid!" The voice was loud, but not too harsh. Just a man in a hurry. Jeff turned towards it to see a compact brown tinted man staring at him. "Did you hear me? Move it!"
"Sorry, Sir. It's just this is my first time to Callisto. Should I port my carrier to a storage facility?"
"Should he port it to a storage facility?! No, kid! We've got teams to do that. What're your orders?"
Jeff stepped over to get out of the way of a passing carrier being levitated to its bay by a pair of Talents. He grabbed his carrysack from the carrier and as soon as his hand was clear the carrier popped out of existence. Before he could reply, the brown man began walking away.
"I'm sorry sir, I'm supposed to report to the Rowan. Could you direct me to her?" Jeff did his best to sound calm, and not like a lost child.
"Haven't you ever been in a Tower before, kid? You don't interrupt the Prime during business hours. I'll take you to the Twic. He should be able to handle you."
Where is he? My granddaughter's son was supposed to arrive ten minutes ago. If anyone sees one of my misbegotten progeny's offspring's children running around the station... rather, if you see one you've not met before... bring them into the Tower. We'll take a short break when he's found.
Her voice touched every telepathic mind in the station, and they all began looking about for the errant Talent. The station worker who had been guiding Jeff turned, and looked shocked. "Apparently, she wants to see you now."
All Jeff could do was grin, shrug his shoulders, and follow the Talent up the steps into the Tower. Inside there were three couches, all wired for a high Talent's use, and a secondary monitoring system that looked vaguely like a Medical Station.
"It looks like a Med Station because it is one." The Rowan's physical voice was just as strong as her mental projection, though it did carry with it the weight of years lived. "My husband, that scheming Denebian, thinks I'm too old to do my job without being monitored to make sure I don't collapse and kill myself during a port. Imagine the gall!"
"I think it's wise, grandmother." Jeff kept his head down to hide the smile on his face.
"Oh, so you agree with that wastrel, do you?"
"In this, apparently. Though, considering his position as Earth Prime is just as stressful I would turn around and make sure that he had a Med Station just as close." Looking up, Jeff saw the smile on the Rowan's face, and knew he'd taken the right tone.
"How right you are boy. You do realize I won't be calling you Jeff, that would be too confusing. I'm married to the Jeff in my life, so we'll find something that fits you along the way. That is, if you stay long. I'm sure you're aware that I spent the first years at this station recycling personnel faster than you can say tiddlywinks."
She was still the woman from the holos his mother and grandmother kept: short, dainty, fine boned, and yet strong. Her hair was a lush mane of white hair corralled into a loose braid that hung down her back, and her skin maintained that dark altairian luster. If you did not know she was near her ninth decade, you would not guess it.
"Are you satisfied that I'm not about to keel over dead, boy?"
"Of course, grandmother. I was satisfied with that after talking with you last month. Though, I wasn't sure I wouldn't keel over dead." His chuckle was quiet, but his memories of that intense interview flashed through his mind.
"Good." She looked almost like the cat that ate the canary as she let her eyes roam over her great-grandson. "I can tell which of your genes you got from Dano. He's a good man, good for your mother too. I hear you test as a Prime? Good. I trust Laria taught you to use your Talent, so I won't need to train you on the basics. You can lift, push, and catch, correct? Good. Now, go take your bag to your quarters. You'll be sharing a suite with a three of your cousins. Play nice, boy. When you're settled in, report back here."
Without another word, she turned back to her screens and pulled the generators online. Recognizing the dismissal, Jeff turned and left the Tower. He smiled and waved to the station worker who'd guided him, but walked out of the hangar on his own. Outside the hangar, there was a large information terminal. Typing in his ID code, he requested his quarters, a map, and some general information on the station. Apparently not much had changed in the years the Rowan had occupied the domed moon station. Equipment had been upgraded, of course, but the main aspects were mostly the same as what his grandmother had described to him. Damia spoke of Callisto with an odd mental inflection... he had wanted to pry, to try to figure out what she was feeling when she thought about Callisto, but even if he had any chance of breaking into her mind, it would be extremely rude.
After walking through three tunnels and one tube, Jeff came to a long corridor lined with doors. This was where permanent station personnel were quartered. Married couples and families got a suite to themselves, but unmarried personnel were grouped into fours and told to get along. At least, until they reached a certain rank. Station Master, Second in Command, and a few other key persons were given their own suite no matter their marital status.
Stepping down the hall, he noticed a doorway that was subtly glowing. The AI knew he was close to home. Walking up, he announced himself.
"Jeff Lyon-Dano," and waited.
Voice key accepted. Welcome home, Mr. Dano.
Stepping inside, his eyes swept over a battleground. The shared kitchen was piled high with dishes, the living area had pillows in clumps on the floor, not a single piece of furniture was lined up properly against a wall, or even offset in a deliberate manner. Standing in the middle of it was a tall blond woman, her hair in a pixie cut, and a thin, dark man. He was shorter than the woman, and had tell-tale white streaks over each ear, making him look much older than he could possibly be.
"As far as I am concerned, Yvonne, this is your mess and I will not touch a single bit of it!"
"My mess? You were here too, Jacques. Don't try to blame this all on me!" One hand gestured broadly at "this all" and she continued. "We were both here, so we should both clean up. I don't mind Tabitha not helping, because she was on duty at the time. But you can't enjoy a party and then not help clean up when it's at your digs!"
"Enjoy!?" His back went rigid, "I came home after getting off duty and found the party already started and when I tried to go to bed, several of your guests followed me! What else could I do?"
"See, you enjoyed yourself. Now, you pick up the living room, and I'll do the unpleasant bits in the kitchen." With a smug, self-satisfied smile she turned towards the kitchen, and he followed eyes blazing. That was when they both noticed Jeff standing there.
"Who are you? Were you at the party last night? Then you should help clean up too. Come on then, into the kitchen!" The blond, Yvonne, began shooing him towards her chosen chore.
"What? No... I just got here. I was told I was assigned to this suite. I'm Jeff Dano."
"Dano? Like Laria Lyon-Dano, or like another Dano?" Jacques queried brightly.
"Yes, that's my mother. Kincaid Dano is my father."
"Well then! That makes us all cousins... good to know we're keeping this suite in the family. Wouldn't want the fourth feeling like a complete outsider." The other man moved forward and stuck out his palm. Apparently he came from a tactile world that even ignored Talents' dislike of physical contact.
"Yes, grandmother mentioned that." Jeff touched Jacques' palm and felt the smooth coffee and cream taste of his cousin's mind. They should get along well, judging by mind touch alone. Standing back until this point, Yvonne put forward her hand.
"Pleased to meet you, cousin." Her mind touch was sour, like fresh squeezed lemons. Not unpleasant, but definitely not easy to take. "How do you rate, if you don't mind me being bold?"
"Prime, like so many of us." His grin was met by theirs. Of the Rowan and Jeff Raven's children, three were Primes, one was a T-2, and the other a T-3, and all five of them had children who tested at T-3 or above, many of them Primes. Then those Primes went on to have their own children who also number many Primes. Four Prime Talents, all cousins, in one suite for who knew how long. It would be an interesting apprenticeship.
"That room will be yours, then. Go in, and make sure you're well and settled before going back to the Tower. The Rowan will want to know you follow instructions well. I remember when Tabitha first arrived. She just dropped her bags and ran back to the Tower, but the Rowan sent her back twice to make sure she was well and settled." Jacques grinned at the memory, and lead Jeff to a door. "Just call out if you need anything. We'll both be out here cleaning."
Inside his room, Jeff took out the few belongings he'd brought with him. A few changes of clothing, a small collection of real paper books, and his portable personal music player. He often liked to plug his player into the swim tubs at gyms and have the music fill the water as he swam. Rearranging everything twice, he sat down on the bed and began wondering what else he could do to 'settle in' so as to give every appearance of obeying his great grandmother's instructions. Staring at a blank wall, nothing came to him. Absolutely nothing. Then it clicked. He was staring at a blank wall. Walking to the terminal at the desk, he pulled up the commissary's catalog and began looking through the home decor section, the art section, and the miscellaneous section. Finally, he found something he liked. It was a poster from pre-expansion Earth showing a trio of comic book characters. Really, it's just three incarnations of one character: Jean Grey, of the X-Men. Phoenix, Dark Phoenix and White Phoenix, in a dramatic pose, showing aspects of their powers, their characters, and their message to their readers.
The character had always appealed to Jeff. She was practically a Prime, but was created decades before Henry Darrow first got hooked up to the goose egg. Her telepathic and telekinetic abilities were near limitless, and that was the problem. She had the power of a god, but the morality and mind of a human. In her first stage, she used the power to do what she thought was right; in the second stage, the power corrupted her and she gave into it, using it for great evil; and in the third stage, she mastered her power, and used it only for good. Few of his friends even knew about Phoenix, she was just one of a million fictional characters from centuries past. But, for Jeff, she was both a model and a warning. Looking at the cost of the poster, he was shocked at the total. Then he noticed the signature in the bottom right corner of the piece. It was a signed original... of course it would cost an arm and a leg. Biting the bullet, he purchased the poster, read his confirmation, and saved it. The piece would be ordered and hopefully arrive soon.
Deciding that he'd settled in enough, he stood and brushed off his clothing. His mother had practically ordered him to wear FT&T Greens, and his father had taught him how to purchase a set that fit him well, so here he was on Callisto dressed for Formal FT&T service and no one else was. Even the Rowan had been wearing a loose sweater, and she was reportedly a stickler for rules. Unbuttoning his collar, he decided that he could be a little less formal. A quick perusal through his newly filled closet showed a light, comfortable, blue shirt that would reduce the formality of his appearance, but still manage to show off his green hazel eyes.
Walking out of his bedroom, he smiled to his cousins as they cleaned and bickered.
"My, you clean up nice." It wasn't Yvonne commenting. Jeff turned and smiled at Jacques.
"You think so? Let's see how I look after a shift in the Tower." He winked and feigned exhaustion, then walked out the door with a smile. Before it closed he could hear Yvonne echoing Jacques' compliment in mocking tones. Interesting.
When he returned into the Tower's hangar, he was shocked to find it mostly calm, quiet even. Looking around, he saw the Rowan was still in the Tower, so he trotted up the steps and into the inner sanctum. He announced himself with a polite "Excuse me, ma'am" but maintained silence when she nodded and held up a finger. She, and the man sitting next to her, both had their eyes closed. Apparently in mental conference with someone distant.
Yes, Damia, let Laria know her boy has made it here safely. I told him to settle in, and he seems to be doing just that. In fact, we received a bill of transport addressed to him already. Apparently Kincaid's desire to decorate was passed on to their son. The Rowan's voice held a tone for her daughter that Jeff had never heard her use, it endeared the old woman to him.
He just arrived for his first shift of duty, Damia, let's break off now and see what he's made of. The voice apparently came from this man sitting next to the Rowan. His voice was velvet smooth, and full of a quiet chuckle, but wasn't one of the Talents Jeff knew by their mental touch.
"Hello boy, I want you to meet Gollee Gren. He has handled Talent assessment since your namesake took over this operation. Gollee is going to run you through your paces and we'll see if you really do test at Prime. After we have an official assessment of your rating, we'll assign you a job code, a pay scale, and maybe you'll be able to afford more pre-space art." The twinkle in the Rowan's eye told him she thought his purchase odd, but intriguing.
"Well then, Talent Gren, what am I to do for you?" Jeff smiled and clapped his hands together, rubbing them in anticipation of a hard work out for his mental muscles.
"Oh, this and that." Gren's laugh was devious, and the Rowan's cackle only deepened Jeff's sense of worry.
Hours later, the Rowan sat in her private apartment in its double thick dome. She was tucked into the corner of a sofa, her feet sitting on the lap of her adoring husband, while the two of them listened to Gren's report on Jeff Dano.
"The boy really is top notch, guys. Laria and Kincaid were right in labeling him Prime. He can Path messages to our farthest settlements, with or without gestalt. He can launch message tubes just as far. Tapping into gestalt, the boy was able to juggle freighters, big daddies, Aurigaen regulars, and all other makes and models. At the top of our test he had three big daddies, two regulars and eight galactic standards. We left off the big liners, didn't want to test him on animate stuff, you know... but he performed well on small carriers... very well. I'm damned interested in seeing what this boy can do with a full team." Gollee took a sip of his glass of wine, smiling. The Ravens had remembered he was partial to Riestling. "I'd call him a Prime and a half, maybe more. Thing is the kid knows he's good. You'll have to keep an eye on him, make sure that his ego doesn't get too large... can't have any gravitational distortions out here, you know."
Down a few corridors, and in significantly less elegant circumstances, Jeff Dano let his head fall onto a pillow. He'd not even made it to his bedroom, having instead collapsed on the nearest comfortable looking surface: the floor near the couch. As his eyes sank shut like lead curtains, he fervently wished that the rest of his days in FT&T would be no where near as taxing as this 'test' had been.
