Pegasus In Space

"What is she singing?" Father Salih asked the two European nuns.

Sister Kathleen, who had a strong alto voice, shrugged. "Nothing I ever heard. Surely nothing remotely Bangla. But she's no trouble. And she's very good about weeding her rows. If she's younger, are we asking too much of her?" she finished with a worried frown.

"If she is doing it, let her," was Father Salih's advice.

"Would you also tell them in the diocese office that we may have a European cygnet among our Bangladeshi chicks?" 'Phania asked.

"I will be doing that," the priest replied but he didn't make a note of it when he should have. Later, he could not remember exactly what it was he should have entered into his report of the visit to that area.

In Dhaka, Lance Baden had continued to hoist in supplies. The heavy concrete curves that could be sunk in the torrents to prevent more levee breaches were vitally needed if they were to keep any more of Bangladesh from flooding into the Bay of Bengal. The Australian kinetic and his teams worked round the clock. He never thought he would yearn for the six-hour shifts of Padrugoi Space Station. But he wasn't working under the tactless, stifling personality of Barchenka and that made a difference. Kayankira, the head of the Delhi Parapsychic Center, had managed to get through by fourwheel-drive truck and now handled the emergency telepathic traffic.

The third day after they had controlled the worst of the flooding, local non-Talented relief personnel approached him to locate some of those listed as missing. That list was by no means complete. The drowned or fatally injured bodies-quickly buried or cremated-were slowly being registered. Among the missing were a civil engineer, Tony Bantam, his wife, Nadezhda, and their five-year-old daughter. They had not reached their destination, Nawabganj, where Bantam had been assigned to survey the Tajhat Palace for possible restoration before the beautiful palace disintegrated. Nadezhda was a qualified architect and teammate. Their last known stop was Sirajganj, located at the confluence of the Tista and the Jamuna rivers. They had purchased fuel at the station there; Bantam had signed a Division chit the evening before the monsoon hit. He had probably heard the weather report, since he was prudent enough to fill his tank and several reserve containers, but what had happened the next day was anyone's guess. Bantam had a sturdy four-wheeldrive vehicle with flotation capabilities, in case he had to ford rivers, so they should have been safe enough even in monsoon conditions. Tony was known to be a competent driver. His wife was equally able for most contingencies. There was no sign of the vehicle anywhere along the logical route they should have taken to reach Nawabganj, nor was the chassis number reported when the flooding receded enough to disclose abandoned cars and trucks.

"Look, if you have anything of theirs to give my 'finder,' Bahadur Rafi…" Kayankira asked hopefully of Bantam's Bangladeshi supervisor. The man had come to the improvised office to find out if the missing family had been found. Kayan's large eyes and expressive mouth conveyed the urgency of her request.

Lance had only one man in his group, Fred Kiersey, who had some "finding" ability in his mainly kinetic Talent. Kayankira, unfortunately, had no one stronger at her Center. Fred was already working longer than normal hours, shifting materiel kinetically to where it was urgently needed. In his "spare" time, he tried, with possessions of the missing, to find them. He was inordinately pleased with his success rate even if he was only finding those still alive.

"In Engineer Bantam's office will be items he has been handling," replied the man who had authorized Tony Bantam's expedition. The Bahadur bowed humbly, hand to his forehead, and with great sadness in his large brown eyes. "I will be sending them to you as soon as may be."

"More chance of finding a trace if we also have something of the wife and child," Lance added, raising hopeful eyebrows.

"Their house was one of the many drowning," and Rafi Siti sadly gestured to the northwest where the Jamuna had swamped low-lying lands.

"Oh," Lance said, grimacing. Waterlogged items would not emanate sufficient traces of their owners to be useful to a limited finder like Fred.

"It will take a few days to-" Rafi Siti broke off when Lance raised his hand discouragingly. "Accha! That may be too many days?"

"No, the water. We have no strong finder available," Kayankira said apologetically. "We were lucky enough to muster the kinetics," and she gestured at Lance Baden, who had never explained exactly how he and his men had managed to land safely at monsoon-swept Zia Airport. She felt the Bahadur's intense sorrow at his impotence and inwardly grimaced because she could offer no real assistance. The monsoon had claimed so many lives.

Lance was equally distressed. Had Barchenka not been so unreasonable in her demands on the Talents, the necessary teams would have been in place long before the flooding got out of hand. Lance clenched his fists. Well, he had to console himself that the telekinetics had gotten to Bangladesh at all-thanks to young Peter Reidinger, the "skeleteam" that Rhyssa Owen was training at the Center for Parapsychics in Jerhattan. "Bring anything Bantam had handled a lot. We'll do what we can."