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called out to Callisto Tower, and sensed that his wife was resting as the interchanges on Callisto’s cargo decks filled from Earthside.
    Her mind touched his gladly, with a delight that belied the fact they had breakfasted together a few hours earlier.
    Open to me. Damia’s made an alien contact. See it.
    Alien? Near Damia?
The fleeting maternal concern was quickly supplanted by professional curiosity as the Rowan scanned Jeff’s recent experience beyond Auriga
. Of course, Afra can go. But why on earth would Damia think Afra couldn’t be reassigned as you see fit. He often has, but it’s true I never get on as well with other T-3’s.
    Â 
    Too true,
Jeff replied teasingly, to divert Rowan from scanning recent conversations too deeply,
but if I didn’t know Afra as well as I do . . .
    Jeff Raven, there has never been a single thought between me and Afra that—
    Jeff laughed and she sputtered at him indignantly.
    Actually,
she continued, thoughtfully,
I’d be very relieved to have Afra with Damia. I know how lonely it must be for her . . .
    If she hadn’t been so heavy-handed with every other high T young male, she wouldn’t be lonely,
Jeff said briskly, before Rowan got started on how she had failed her daughter.
Now, is Afra in gestalt with you?
    Right here. I’ll leave you two men alone.
    Refusing to placate her ruffled feelings, Jeff caressed her with a very affectionate thought before he felt Afra’s mind touch his.
    Are you sure you’re only T-3?
he asked, a little surprised at the firmness in the Capellan’s touch.
    I’m in gestalt, after all,
Afra replied, good-naturedly.
And, in the course of twenty-odd years in the presence of the fine Raven touch, even a lowly T-3 learns a few tricks. From the expression on the Rowan’s face, I’d hazard that Damia is being discussed. What’s she up to now?
    Â 
    Damia had just returned to Auriga when she heard the Rowan giving the Tower official warning of the transmission of a personal capsule.
    Afra?
Damia exclaimed, reaching back along her mother’s touch to Callisto.
    Damia!
Afra said warningly but too late.
    Without waiting for the Rowan to flip the capsule halfway to Auriga, Damia blithely drew the carrier directly from Callisto, ignoring her mother’s stunned and angry reaction to such an abuse of protocol.
    She regretted her impulsive action almost immediately. But Afra’s capsule was opening and he was swinging himself over the edge. She could not have missed his trenchant disapproval if she’d been a mere T-l5. He stood up, looking down at her, the same aloof contained man. Now why, Damia wondered irritably, had she expected Afra to change? Had
she?
And would Afra condescend to comment on those changes in her?
    She rose from her own capsule, instinctively standing very erect as if to minimize the differences in their heights. Tall as she was, inches taller than her mother, she came only to Afra’s shoulder.
    â€œYou will apologize to your mother, Damia,” Afra said, his unexpected tenor speaking voice a curious echo of his quiet mental tone. “Isthia taught you better manners even if we never could.”
    â€œYou’ve been trying to lately, though, haven’t you?” The retort came out before she could stop it. Would Afra always have this effect on her?
    He cocked his head to one side and regarded her steadily. She sent a swift probe which he parried easily.
    â€œYou were distressing Jenna unnecessarily, Damia. She appealed to me as the nearest male of her Clan, and because she did not wish Jeff to know of your indiscretion.”
    â€œShe chose well.” Damia was so appalled at the waspishness of her tone that she extended her hand toward him apologetically.
    She could feel him throw up his mental barriers and, for a second, she wondered if he might refuse what was, after all, the height of familiarity between telepaths. But his