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!
You can get a direct contact with Bergkamp, Pete.
"Admiral, may I have a direct contact with Engineering," Peter said, hoping he sounded calm. Was it his imagination or did his voice shake a little?
No! was Johnny Greene's firm reassurance.
"Of course," said Dirk Coetzer, his blue eyes decidedly twinkling, "and I think so that we can watch you in action, let's have the engineering station board up on our screen, Pota."
"Very good, sir."
Another window crowded against the others on the bottom of the screen.
"I'm ready," Peter said, wondering if all those on his side were in league to give him more time. "Lance? I'll put the sensors on the worktop behind you." Peter leaned into the gestalt. The surge on the generators' gauges flickered at the highest point and fell back as he eased off to what he now sensed was just the right amount of power required. He tried very hard not to think of the immense distance involved. Only that these sensors, their specific volume, had to be placed elsewhere, on the worktop behind Lance. For a nanosecond he felt Lance's mind, reacting in exultation over this second display of pure, boundless telekinetic power.
"Wait!" That was all the time Colonel Watari had to utter a protest before the teleportation was completed.
"Neatly done," Lance said, grinning from ear to ear as he swung around in his chair to face the delivered package.
With a cry of alarm, Colonel Watari leaped across the room, anxious hands examining it, gesturing for Cyberal to help him remove the one outer plastic sheet of packing so he could assure himself that the sensors had not taken any harm during their unique journey through space.
"I heard only a slither," Lance was saying, and turned back to the screen to those in the Station conference room. "Excellent, Pete."
"Would you be in need of a midmorning snack, Mr. Reidinger?" Secretary Abubakar asked with attentive courtesy. "To replace the calories you just burned up?"
"That's very kind of you, sir," Peter replied, inclining his head graciously to the Secretary. "Yes, thank you."
"I think we are all in need of sustenance," the admiral said, and raised his voice. "Barney?"
Okay there, Pete? Johnny asked. "A marvelous idea!" he added aloud.
"Could we have a reading on the-" Fraga began, looking at Peter beside him, his fingers still steepled together. Alicia Taddesse was apparently deprived of speech; she sat staring at the space where the three sensors had been. "The gestalt. Is that what you call it, Mr. Reidinger?"
"I use a gestalt, Mr. Fraga," Peter said. "What the Engineering records tell us is how much generator power was involved in the teleport."
"I see."
I wonder if he really does appreciate the distinction, Johnny remarked. You're tired, Pete. No more showing off today. Got me?
Showing off? Me? Peter imaged himself with a huge mouth, lower lip drooping to the floor. Johnny gave a smug mental chuckle.
Admiral Coetzer suggested that perhaps they should end the conference on this good note. Peter could see that the colonel was tight strung with the desire to get the sensors into place. Lunar quakes were a constant hazard to new construction. Watari was certainly more than polite when he efficiently went off-line. The admiral and the Secretary exchanged grins.
Teleportations or schedules were not even discussed during the break. Before the proceedings at Padrugoi ended, the Secretary had dropped the formal Mr. Reidinger and was calling him Peter. Georg Fraga seemed anxious. One of those, Peter thought, who did not realize that parapsychics were still people, with minds that worked differently. Alicia Taddesse confined her remarks to agreeing with her superior or the admiral. She did request a report on Mai Leitao. The senior medical officer responded that Ms. Leitao was in a deep and restful sleep.
"I can 'port her," Johnny offered, "to whatever destination you suggest? The infirmary at your headquarters, perhaps."
Taddesse reared back in her chair, scowling. "Not when we know that she's terrified of teleportation."
"She needn't know," replied the general with a shrug. "You can tell her she was brought down from the Station on a regular transport. Which is no lie since I regularly 'port personnel downside."
"Commander de Aruya recommended that she have immediate treatment for her, ah, malnutrition," the Secretary said, "and a holiday."
"There's not another regular, self-powered shuttle going down for a week," the admiral put in, his expression solicitous. "She need never know."
"I think that's wisest, Alicia," Fraga said earnestly.
"We can ask the medic at Headquarters Infirmary to keep her sedated overnight. She obviously needs the rest. I hadn't realized I was working her so hard," Abubakar said, his expression anxious.
"She's meticulous in the performance of her duties," Taddesse said in a low voice.
"I'm sure," the Secretary murmured. He rose, offering his hand to the admiral, who got to his feet. Then he approached Peter.
"Mr. Reidinger," and he grinned over the formal title, "Peter, I am deeply grateful for your willingness to extend yourself. You must tell me quite frankly if we overwork you at any point."
"I will, sir."
If you don't, I will, Pete, Johnny said, also rising. There is no way I'm going to allow anyone to risk skeleteam.
Except you! Peter tried to keep his tone jesting.
Johnny gave him a very long thoughtful look. Especially me. Then he broke mental contact to stride around the table, helping Fraga collect Leitao's possessions.
9
When Peter got to the officers' mess, he wasn't sure that he was hungry. He wasn't sure what he felt. By rights, he should have been elated at having 'ported two packages all the way to the Moon. He kept seeing the expression on Mai Leitao's face, her scrambling move away from him. As if he were unclean or his Talent was a disease that could infect her. She reminded him of his mother and her altered perception of him. He also realized that he had been shielded from such mundane attitudes and reactions. Carefully shielded. Maybe he should opt for his own apartment, and not in the Talents' special enclave where he would gain no realistic knowledge of how his sort were perceived by the other 99.97 percent of Earth's inhabitants.
"Peter?" said a cheerful voice behind him. He spun about. "It's just Ceara Scott," she added, reassuring him before he had completed the turn to face the redhead. "I didn't mean to startle you. I just saw you there and," she gestured to the empty mess, "thought it would be nice to have someone to eat with. If you're eating? I'm taking a break before this place gets too crowded and all the best entrees are gone. There's fried chicken today." She sniffed deeply. "Doesn't it smell divine?"
Despite her red hair, she wasn't at all like Nurse Roche. Color was different, too; not the same shade of red, Peter thought.
Her smile began to waver.
"I didn't mean to intrude."
"No, no, not at all, Ceara. I'd like company, too. The fried chicken does smell good." He raised his arm to gesture for her to lead the way. She chose a table at one side of the mess.
They were served deftly by the rating who suggested the corn bread and okra as suitable companions to the chicken.
"Good eatin', ma'am, suh," he said, grinning broadly. "Smart of you to get in here 'fore the rush starts."
"And keep away from it, too," Ceara said in a low voice as he had gone off with their order.
"Are you settling in here all right, Ceara?" Peter asked, thinking he heard an uncertain note in her voice.
"Oh, yes," she said quickly. "They're all very helpful. It's so different from university labs where the competition can be fierce." She paused, searching his face. Peter saw anxiety. "Sometimes it's difficult being an empath. You can't avoid sensing what other people are thinking."