Pegasus In Space
- Автор: Маккефри Энн
- Серия: Talents #3
- Язык: английский
- Жанр: Научная фантастика
Электронная книга - «Pegasus In Space». Краткое содержание книги:
For an overpopulated Earth whose resources are strained to the breaking point, there is only one place to look for relief: straight up. With the successful completion of the Padrugoi Space Station, humanity has at last achieved its first large-scale permanent presence in space. But there are those who, for motives of their own, want Padrugoi to fail. Standing in their way are the Talented, men and women gifted with extraordinary mental powers that have made them as feared as they are respected--and utterly indispensable to the colonization effort. Now, as sabotage and attempted murder strike the Station, it's up to the Talented to save the day. Only who is going to save the Talented?
Pegasus in Space is the tale of Peter Reidinger, first Tower Prime!
"Thanks, Amariyah," he said.
"You're hovering," she replied, gently pressing on his shoulder until he was grounded.
"Thanks," he said absently, his eyes going from stern to prow, up and down the decks, memorizing.
"Print won't fade, you know," she said kindly, quoting Dorotea's oft-repeated maxim.
"It better not," Peter said, but he smiled in her direction. "She's beautiful, Amariyah. Just beautiful. Everything I imagined she'd be. Inside and out."
"Do you want to go with her when she flies?"
Peter heaved a sigh, Amariyah slyly noting that his chest had actually lifted. When she had been in the Center long enough to be able to ask personal questions, she had broached the subject of Peter to Dorotea while they were companionably weeding the side bed. Why did he move so oddly? Had he been born like that? Dorotea had explained about the wall falling on him, his paralysis, and then his unusual ability to use a "connection," Dorotea had called it (though Amariyah learned later from Tirla that it was called a gestalt), to use the power of his mind to move his damaged body. While she was on that subject, she said that Peter could also not use the toilet as others did, and wore a bag for waste disposal. Amariyah calmly accepted this explanation with a nod of her head.
Peter, Dorotea went on, couldn't feel anything so they all had to watch out that he didn't inadvertently burn or injure himself. He was assiduous in doing the daily Reeve exercises to keep muscle tone, and in getting massage. Dorotea assured Amariyah that it was polite to remind Peter to keep his feet on the ground. When he got excited, he started to hover. Amariyah was to ignore any other unusual motions. Peter was still trying to control, by his mind, the smaller movements of hands and feet that everyone else took for granted.
"Are you going to move the spaceship when she's ready to go?" Amariyah asked. Several times now she had been in the personnel carrier, taken with Peter and Tirla on special educational trips.
"I wish." Peter shook his head, altering the mood. He grinned down at Amariyah. "The Andre Norton has to get where she's going under her own power."
"But you know where she's going. Why can't you just send her there? Is she too big for you?"
Amariyah was as aware as everyone at the Center that Peter Reidinger had the most astounding telekinetic ability.
"I've got to know where to stand first," Peter said, his eyes focusing on a distant goal.
She waited in case he had more to say. The shine in his eyes warned her that his thinking had turned very private. He'd said all he intended to right now. She slipped away, leaving him to thoughts that made his face both sad and glad. She was pleased that this admiral person had kept his promise to Peter. It was good that important people kept promises. She was pleased, too, that Peter had confidedin her as much as he did. She loved Peter.
She left his room, tiptoed to the door, which she closed quietly so as not to interrupt all his happy-sad thinking. She really did have to check on the seedlings. Ted was very pleased with the way hers came on. He said she had magic fingers, not just green ones, because her garden produced the most beautiful flowers and the tastiest vegetables. He had stopped trying to persuade her to concentrate on flowers; even stopped complaining that she bordered her garden with marigolds. She liked Ted: he was always smiling and cheerful. Just seeing his thin, weathered face made the day better. Dorotea liked him, too.
"Never a harsh word for anyone, bar insects and those dratted moles," Dorotea said. "A good man, our Ted. Knows his flora, too."
"He mispronounces the Latin names."
"But," and Dorotea held up one hand in mild rebuke, "he knows them."
Amariyah was suitably chastened.
"Now, now, child. Remember, too, that he understands gardening in this climate. Which is quite different from Bangladesh."
As Amariyah walked over to her garden, the other children in the Center were also released from their Teaching sessions. There were fifteen, six boys and nine girls, ranging from four to twelve. The Center also had daycare and early training for infants, but she didn't see much of them. Dorotea liked her to play with the older ones, and Amariyah endured activities like hide and seek-as long as no one tried to injure the bushes they hid behind or stepped on her garden-and jumping rope. She had quick, clever feet and knew about rope dancing from the orphanage. She learned the songs in English and added a few in Bangla. She did not, however, see any point in the endless tossing of the big ball up into the net circle. The ball was too heavy for her and the iron rim too high. Mostly the older boys and girls monopolized that outdoor activity. None of them was at all interested in gardening but she was as glad of that. They had no delicacy of touch and might damage young plants. She never forgot the death of her garden in the orphanage, nor Lila. It was therefore odd that she had felt from the very moment of their meeting that Tirla was different, safe, and trustworthy, even if Tirla did, somewhat, resemble Lila in physical type. Tirla was as special to Amariyah as Peter was. Tirla was sister to her, though sometimes the girl could be more motherly and demanding than Dorotea. Tirla considered Amariyah ineluctably hers. Tirla was also very smart about things in Jerhattan and the Linears. When Tirla took her out and about, Dorotea always reminded Amariyah to listen to Tirla and do exactly as she said.
Amariyah reached her garden and stood where she could survey the bed. It had started out as a small rectangle, almost begrudged by Ted as a special concession to Dorotea. He had now enlarged it three times; one end had partial shade during the hottest part of the day, so she could grow those special flowers that did not do well with full sun. She was, as Dorotea called it, counting heads when the ball bounced once, slamming into the display of narcissus, breaking heads off; bounced a second time and broke branches off the orange-colored Azalea indica.
Amariyah let out a shriek that was heard throughout the grounds, both orally and telepathically. The ball rolled from the Azalea indica down the slight slope and mashed down her marigold seedlings. Amariyah was not a violent child but she kicked that ball so hard that she sent it high into one of the trees, where it stuck in a bole.
Peter got to her first because he could 'port himself. Dorotea was not far behind him, Ted as well as two other groundsmen, Sascha and Sirikit from the control room, and Rhyssa from her office, while apartment windows were flung open as people reacted to the loud scream.
Amariyah was on the ground in front of her flattened marigolds, keening and rocking back and forth, tears streaming down her cheeks. She ignored Peter, though he tried to put a consoling arm around her shoulders. She ignored Dorotea, and Sascha and Rhyssa and even Sirikit whom she usually liked. Ted reached out to assess the damage and an invisible barrier blocked his hand. Startled, he looked to Dorotea who shook her head and he drew back, clucking his tongue at the damage.
"It isn't that much," he muttered to Dorotea.
"Any damage is too much," Dorotea said. "Find out who was shooting baskets and shoot them."
"They wouldn't have done it on purpose," Ted said. "Whyn't we just leave the ball up there?"
Dorotea followed the direction he pointed and gave a sour grin.
"I could put anchor fencing around the court, help keep the ball inside," he suggested. "Like I have around the tennis courts.
"Do so, Ted," Rhyssa said, having heard their discussion. "And no more basketball shooting until the fence is up." Did you get the same blast of fury and vengeance as I did? she asked.