For the first time, Titus was able to open himself to the experience of leaving earth. His ancestors had come here in a far more sophisticated craft. But he and his kind had long worked with humans to create this crude vehicle. And now-at last they were returning to space.
The emotion was as overwhelming as the sound. He caught his father watching him, features distorted by acceleration. There was a fierce joy on Abbots face that expressed just how Titus was feeling. He did his best to return it, and for a moment the extra sense that guided the use of Influence flared between them, a fierce embrace.
As they shared their private triumph, Titus knew Abbot loved him just as Tituss human father, the man whod raised him, had loved him. Of his genetic father, Titus knew only that hed been a vampire, and was probably dead. Abbot had wakened Titus, nurtured him, and now wanted him to share this step in the liberation of The Blood from lonely exile.
The sweet warmth of that embrace stole over Titus, feeding his starved soul. There were so few of them scattered over Earth; they couldnt afford to let factions split them. They understood one anothers needs, knew each others moods, and could rely on each other no matter
what the imposition. They were a family. The warmth of belonging was something Titus had rarely felt since his human family had buried him-mistaking him for a dead human.
Until this moment, drowning in the universal roar, helpless in the grip of forces stronger than himself, Titus had not realized how deeply deprived his life had been. There was a hollow ache where there should have been parents, sister, brother, wife, and children of his own.
With a gasp, Titus twisted his head away, breaking the contact with Abbots eyes. Wife. It was like a hot knife in his heart. Inea. Two more days and wed have been married.
He clamped his lips shut. Hed vowed never to say her name again. It was over-done. She was human. And she had seen his body dangling from the overturned car by the seat belt abdomen pierced by torn metal.
But the emptiness ached and ached, and Abbot knew how to use it. No, thats not fair. It wasnt Abbots fault that Titus had crashed the car, or that Titus had made the change too young.
None of Tituss problems were Abbots doing. He swallowed the emptiness, thrust aside the pain, and looked at Abbot. Summoning a grin to match Abbots, he refused to be drawn back into the whirl of emotions. Yet, with the most negligent effort, Abbot could sweep him back into the depths, manipulate him into doing or saying anything.
Only this time, he didnt. He let the echoing contact fade, giving mercy that truly felt like love. It was genuine love, but still Abbot would kill him, truly and permanently, in order to send that SOS. His loyalty to The Blood-the luren species, on Earth as well as out in the galaxy-was above all personal considerations, and Abbot expected no less of Titus.
As the noise and vibration finally let up and an eerie silence descended, Titus decided he had to fight. Connie, and everyone else-not the least of all, unsuspecting humanity-was depending on him. He had to buy time for Connie to act.
At last, the couches folded back into chairs and a voice instructed them to keep seat belts buckled during free-fall. Attendants would escort anyone who needed to use the facilities. Compliance with this safety rule was a condition of employment on the Project.
Mirelle rummaged in her chair arm. Ah! A lovely poker deck! Poker, not bridge, no? The back of the deck showed a glorious view of Goddard Station, with Earth glowing in one corner and stars in the background.
The mysterious Andre Mihelich resumed reading, ignoring Mirelle. Titus asked her, Poker? You were serious?
Of course, Titus. But not to worry-we wont play for money. We will play for each others calculators.
What! Gold laughed. What could an anthropologist do with a TI-Alter programmed for metals analysis?
She laughed. Thats the point! You see, the winner redistributes the calculators, deciding who gets whose. To get your own back, you have to work the one you have.
But I know nothing about metals beyond basic theory, protested Titus, and less about anthropology or any of the Cognitives.
She gazed up at him, close enough that she might discern his contact lenses now that hed removed his sunglasses. Titus, how much do you expect I know about astrophysics?
Titus eyed Abbot but detected no Influence. I carry a Bell 990. I doubt youd know how to turn it on. She could have dealt easily with his old Sharp. He pulled his jacket out from under the seat and produced the 990. No bigger than his palm, it was programmed for all his routine calculations, and had his standard reference tables in ROM with a meg of Project notes. On the moon, it could take him weeks to set up a new 990 or have one reprogrammed from his home files.
Abbot raised an eyebrow in sardonic amusement.
They thought they got the calculator with my bag! Score one!
Titus passed the 990 to Mirelle and watched her turn the smooth case over. I dont even know how to open it! From her bag she extracted a stubby looking, thick instrument that she handed to Titus. Can you make this do anything?