Damia's Children by Anne McCaffrey

said.
Shall we?
    Why not?
was David’s diffident reply.
    The final thrust of his journey was palpable in Thian’s mind: he expected that both the Rowan and David had done that on purpose. Some Talents, especially Primes, still experienced twinges of apprehension when being ’ported by others. Most of them handled their own ’portations and possibly Thian could have, had he had practice with the coordinates to which he was going: constantly altering coordinates at that. He really was relieved that he hadn’t been expected to transport himself.
    Then he was there! Inside the battle cruiser.
    â€œSir,” a loud voice shouted, slightly muffled by the capsule, “transport and drone are now aboard.”
    â€œWell, well, open up the carrier, man!”
    The hatch was cracked and the first thing Thian noted was that the air was tainted. The first thing he did was sneeze which mortified him.
    â€œCanned air has that effect, sir,” said the uniformed rating who looked in on him. “You’ll get used to it, Mr. Lyon.” The grin that followed that warning belied the sentiment.
    Mur was convulsed with the equivalent of a ’Dini sneeze while Dip seemed to be gagging.
    BE EASY , Thian clacked encouragingly and, pulling the harness release, reached over to extricate Mur from its belt and pull it to a more upright position. Mur managed a wheeze of gratitude and, in turn, assisted Dip.
    â€œMr. Lyon, sir, care to join us?” and a second figure bent down to peer in the open hatch. The face that peered in was young, with that indefinable stamp of perpetual youth that some men seem to retain: regular but undistinguished features, pale blue eyes, fresh complexion and only the hint of down on the upper lip.
    â€œI’m helping my ’Dinis,” Thian said, somewhat relieved as he decided he looked older than his welcomer. Dark hair and heavy eyebrows produced unexpected results. “Ah, we’re coming.”
    â€œYou were able to bring ’Dinis, then. By Jove, that is good news,” said this second individual who moved back as Thian swung himself out. “Welcome aboard, Mr. Lyon,” and Thian was surprised at the crisp salute accorded him. He grinned in return, and then offered his hand. “Lieutenant Ridvan Auster-Kiely, sir.”
    Thian decided that one could be over-sirred but it was only good naval protocol.
    Mur was hiccuping in spasms now and Thian felt the first twinge of concern. When Thian touched Mur’s sloping forearm, the fur felt very dry. Dehydration! Not good for the ’Dinis who daily consumed quantities of liquid. Thian excused himself to the Lieutenant and ’ported both ’Dinis out of the capsule, bracing Mur against his leg until it had cleared its air passage.
    â€œMur should be all right in a moment,” Thian said with more authority than he felt. “This is Dip,” he added and handed Dip a clean cloth to mop its poll eye which was streaming, another form of ’Dinis reaction to poor air quality and excessive dryness. He had to blink rather furiously himself to clear his own eyes.
    â€œYeah,” drawled the lieutenant, “it gets to you if you aren’t used to it. Would a puff of the pure do any good?”
    â€œThe pure?” Thian wasn’t certain he had heard correctly because there was a lot of noise and exclamations from the seamen crowding around the supply drone so he “reached” for an explanation. “Oh, oxygen.” Then Thian wondered if his lapse had been noticed but the lieutenant didn’t react, just kept grinning sympathetically at the gasping and hiccuping ’Dinis.
    â€œThese guys are small,” he said, trying not to be impolite with his interest in them.
    â€œHumans have different growth patterns. ’Dinis do it slower.”
    â€œOh? Can I assist you with your baggage, sir? Get you to your quarters where it’s quieter,” Auster-Kiely said,