To Ride Pegasus

Not bad, thought Daffyd, although he’d half wished that the computer would throw the case out. With no precedents, there’d been slim chance of that.

Amalda’s fear was like a knife in his own guts. He tried to get through to Roznine, to fathom what the man was doing. Bruce Vaden jumped to his feet, started down the aisle, his progress blocked by others who were beginning to leave the courtroom.

Daffyd had the sense that every Talent in the audience stiffened suddenly and then Roznine, half rising from his seat, stunned amazement on his face, began to topple slowly over onto the people in the row in front of him.

“Hey, this guy’s passed out,” someone cried. “Is there a medic around?”

Bruce Vaden kept trying to reach Roznine. Daffyd signalled to two other Talents to assist. If they could bring Roznine to the Center this way…

“I’m a physician,” a woman said in a firm loud voice, three rows away, holding up her emergency pouch. There was a slight scuffle as Bruce tried to intercept her, but suddenly the Pan-Slavs moved, jumping over seats, knocking people aside in an effort to protect their fallen leader.

Daffyd caught Vaden back, called off the others.

The bailiff scurried from the court, yelling for an ambicopter, as the woman medic and three Slavs lifted the stricken man and carried him to the prosecution’s table. The “hearing judge” began to call for order, for the next case, for the obstructionists to be removed from the courtroom. Its voice got louder and louder until it finally called a recess until the court could be humanly cleared.

“All right, all right, we’ve got him under heavy sedation in the Court Block infirmary,” Frank Gillings told Daffyd, “but that took doing. The place is crawling with Pan-Slavs. We can’t arrest a man for collapsing in court…and how did you do it?”

“One of the teleports gave him a ‘punch,’” Daffyd said with a rueful grimace.

Gillings stared at him with awe and respect.

“One has to be very careful,” Daffyd explained almost apologetically, “pressing against the carotid. But he was pressuring Amalda.”

“You expected that! But I expected you guys to grab him there. And that goddamned hearing is affecting the entire city. Now don’t tell me you expected that!”

Daffyd looked at Gillings and, for a micro-second, hesitated.

“No, not exactly, but we’re doing our very best.”

“What? What in hell do you mean by that?”

“I mean, we’ve set the trap and baited it and we simply have to have patience.”

“Patience? With this city about to erupt?”

“Curiously enough, Gillings, I don’t think the city is going to erupt. Oh, we’ve recorded some Incidents, minor ones, involving Talents…” and Daffyd frowned because the Incidents were distressing and so vague that only a general all Talent warning could be issued.

Gillings gave one of his disgusted growls. “You guys make me sick. You can’t even protect yourselves.”

“We’ll do what we can,” and Daffyd’s voice turned steely enough to reprimand Gillings. “What concerns you, Commissioner, is the fact that our precogs have predicted no major Incidents. Your city is going to be safe!”

“Prove it!” demanded Gillings but Daffyd op Owen made no reply as he left the Commissioner’s office.

It took the telepath the entire trip back to the Center to get control of his inner perturbation. Of course, Gillings had to be ruthless and consider only the larger aspect, the safety of the City, but it galled Daffyd to think that Gillings could so offhandedly dismiss the personal trials of the Talented. It grieved Daffyd that there would be more precedents on the newly-programmed Immunity Law after the next few days. The fact that Talents would now have redress for the precogged personal assaults on them was no satisfaction. He’d really have preferred never to have had to invoke that Law.

It would serve Gillings proper notice if Roznine did burst out of bounds… And how in hell were they to promulgate a law that made it illegal to conceal Talent? Latent Talents were always cropping up when the right connections were made…

And not a single Incident connected with Amalda or Red or Vsevolod Roznine. And he’d had every precog in the Center sensitized to that unholy trio. How could that possibly be?

Daffyd’s state of mind was grim as he landed the copter on the roof of the main administration building of the Center. He tried to drain the poisons of bitterness and anger from his mind as he descended the stairs. He paused at his office door but swung away. He had to calm himself. This excessive reaction was self-defeating. Gillings might be a latent Talent himself but he remained obdurately impervious to the problems of the Talented, especially when they interfered with the law enforcement and order of his precious city.

While Roznine was unconscious in the Court Block infirmary, Daffyd had managed to implant a suggestion that Roznine seek Amalda out at the Center. It was the only feasible practicable method…make the mountain come to Mahomet. And the mountain must apparently come of its own volition. Now, if he could just get Mahomet to do a Lorelei…it would speed matters up, and maybe so many Talents wouldn’t get hurt.