Pegasus In Space

He settled the covers over his shoulders and snuggled up to his wife's warm body. He wondered if it was the redheaded nurse who had tried to seduce the kid.

As far as Johnny knew, Peter followed his advice; neither made mention of that three-thirty A.M. call. During his morning visit the next day, he avoided eye contact. He did notice that Peter's face was flushed when he entered. So Johnny became all business. He'd brought with him some of the elements that were waiting to be transported, one way or another, to the Moon Base.

"I know this accident has put us all off schedule, Pete," Johnny said, pulling a chair closer to the bed. "And it's going to affect their perception of you."

"Why? I didn't have an accident, it happened to me."

"I know, I know, Pete. But you're going to have to convalesce and pass their physical before you'll be allowed back up to the Station."

At the flow of indignant curses Peter let out, Johnny realized that one facet of his education had been remarkably enhanced during his Station employment.

"Where'd you learn all that?" asked the general.

"Oh, the grunts are colorful."

"Just don't let Rhyssa or Dorotea hear that kind of language, or my name'll be mud."

"I'm not stupid," Peter said sharply.

"Never thought you were, Pete. Well, to the matter at hand. Dirk's on our side," Johnny said, passing sheets over that Peter "held" in front of him. "Especially after I showed him the Bollard Thrust. I've been saving that one for a propitious moment. But we've now got to overcome the reaction to your broken bones."

"It's not my bones that teleport," Peter said in an angry sullen tone. He hated hospitals. He hated nurses-especially after last night's incident. He had dumped the bathwater on her after he had kinetically ejected her from his room. Bet she hadn't known he could do that! But the incident had upset him a great deal. She'd thought he was helpless. Everyone thought he was helpless: built like one of those beanpoles in Amariyah's vegetable garden. No one knew what he could really do if he set his mind to it. Even himself! Then he caught Johnny's blink of surprise and he tried to suppress his anger and deep frustration.

Johnny had never heard that tone from him. Peter was invariably good-humored and willing. He wondered if he should have responded differently to that early morning conversation. He shot a sideways glance at his profile. Pete wasn't bad looking, in a young sort of way. He had the sort of features that would age well. And right now, he'd have an especial appeal that could easily rouse feminine lust. Or was it the mothering instinct that Pete awakened?

"We always bill you as the mind-over-matter kid, skeleteam," Johnny said in a careless drawl. "So let's use that strength to our advantage. Now the design of these babies," and he indicated the glossies of the grossly clumsy freighters that Peter was examining. "Originally, we were shoving projectiles, especially devised to break free of gravity and penetrate an atmosphere. These," and he flicked one with his finger that was a collection of diversely shaped objects secured to a framework, "wouldn't last in gravity but should be easy to maneuver in space."

Peter moved that one out of the hovering pack and examined it closely. He gave a little snort and glanced down at the manifest, noting its dimensions and mass.

"We shifted heavier stuff than this from Earth to Padrugoi," Peter responded, slightly indignant. "If nothing's fallen off it before now, it won't in a 'portation."

"I figured that out myself," Johnny said caustically. "I know, you know, Lance knows, Dirk knows. No one-except Rhyssa-thought you could land a shuttle in a monsoon at Dhaka. You did. Only a few folks thought you could shift heavy drones from surface to Station, too. We'll just have to shift something like these, the pickup sticks" and he added the picture of a massive bundle of plasteel girders to those orbiting Peter's face, "to convince their plodding earthbound minds."

Peter made a face. "They're not that massive."

"Neither were the chips you sent to Lance," Johnny said.

Peter shot him a glance. "These are not that light," and quickly he broke eye contact, flushing again.

"It's still a matter of mathematics, Pete," Johnny reminded him. "And you don't have to cope with gravity. Just a slow easy thrust… sending the load on its way."

Peter's expression altered from outright denial to thoughtful consideration.

"Look, Pete, you keep telling me that all you need is a place to stand. Right?" And when Peter hesitated, Johnny went on. "So you stand on Padrugoi and 'port to First Base. You'd have all that power available and that's megawatts more than you had for the monsoon caper. Even more than in Florida, until I made them upgrade the power system." Johnny's lips twitched, remembering just how quickly he'd been able to get funding for additional power once Barchenka started seeing the supply shuttles homing in. The bitch had been good for something.