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're an empath?"
"Yes." She seemed surprised. "Didn't you know? A latent, I admit," and she smiled shyly. "I just didn't know how I knew some of the things I did-like how other students felt about me. It was almost a relief to know it was a perfectly normal empathetic response."
"I see."
"Do you?" She gave him a sad little smile. "They said at the Center that I'm not obliged to inform people I'm an empath, since I'm not all that strong and I'm not really working as one. I thought I'd better tell you." She made eye contact as she lightly touched his right hand where he had placed it on the table.
The physical contact was meant to allow him to "feel" that she was telling the truth. Hadn't anyone mentioned he didn't like to be touched? Well, no, why should they? Empaths and telepaths preferred to make tactile contact; that was how they were able to reach a mind the next time. She must have been briefed about him, that a wall had paralyzed his legs and then the damned body brace had shorted the nerves in his arms. That is, if she hadn't guessed by the odd way he moved about. Her public mind was earnest, anxious, and orderly. He would have expected that in someone trained in medicine. She was certainly speaking the truth, though he also perceived that she was anxious about his acceptance of her.
"Thank you, Ceara," Peter said. "It's sort of a relief," and he gave her a reassuring grin, "to have another Center person up here."
"Yeah," she said with a little smile. "I'm glad you're here, too. I don't know many other psychics. It's all new to me. Just like this grant." She still had her hand on his and he could feel her sparkling with excitement, pride, and anticipation.
"How come you were sent up to the conference room?" he heard himself asking.
She shrugged both shoulders. "Coincidence. I am a licensed medical practitioner as well as a medical researcher. I want to keep my hand in and so I said 'yes' when they asked me would I assist in medical emergencies. They put me up on the duty roster so fast I couldn't renege. So I was next up when the call came in. I don't think I ever want to be that dedicated to my work." She wrinkled her nose in distaste. "Agoraphobic as well as psychophobic. What a combination! Ah, here comes lunch."
The meal did look especially appetizing and Peter felt his mouth watering. He never felt his stomach rumble, of course. He was grateful that he could smell and taste what he ate. The officers' mess on Padrugoi served excellent food, not that Dorotea wasn't the best cook in the world, but it was nice to taste other cuisines. There was quite a selection of international dishes available here.
"Your family sure didn't want you to leave," he said. "Neither did my sister. Dorotea wouldn't let her come to the telepad."
"Dorotea?"
Peter could sense her curiosity even though she maintained a polite expression.
"Dorotea's my adopted grandmother. I've been staying with her at the Henner estate, you see, since I emerged as a kinetic. A ward of the Parapsychic Center."
"The scuttlebutt is that you're stronger than General Greene."
"Well," Peter demurred, "that's still debatable. But I've been living at the Center and so has Amariyah. She's an orphan. Her parents died in the floods in Bangladesh, oh, five or so years ago now. We're sort of brother and sister. She's crazy about flowers. We'd have plants all over the house if Dorotea let her. Maree wants to be a hydroponic specialist when she grows up. She's not quite ten now. Sorry. I'm babbling," Peter said.
"That's all right. I'm the one who usually does that," Ceara said, smiling until her eyes crinkled.
The steward came by their table, offering seconds before the chicken was wolfed down or dessert. Ceara ordered pecan pie, and talked Peter into it, and an herbal tea.
"I prefer them," she admitted shyly. "Too much caffeine and my eyesight blurs when I'm doing slides."
"Funny, I can drink tea with no bad effect but coffee's no good for me. Johnny-General Greene, that is-can't function without constant cups of coffee."
"Probably because he's been a pilot so long," she said with a disarming crinkle of her nose.
The topic of likes and dislikes was being discussed when the steward returned with their orders. It wasn't until Ceara's wristcom bleeped a reminder that they parted, with some reluctance on Peter's part. He briefly wondered if he had felt so comfortable with her because she was empathic. But he didn't care. He had felt comfortable with her and had unconsciously relaxed from the stress of the morning.
Peter went back to his quarters. He planned to go to the gym and work out on the Reeve Board; he fancied he felt tingling in his chest and upper arms. Or was it a reaction to the pleasant time he'd had with Ceara? When he got in, the message light on his comunit was blinking.
"Pete? Greene here. We got transport at 0300 tomorrow, Limo-34. First Base's in conjunction for another five days so we'd better get cracking if you want to do a walkabout at Oceanus Procellarum. Not that there's much to see, since they planted the base on the most uninteresting real estate the Apollos could find. Please check in with me."
The formal request, not the usual flip "catch me, will ya?" that was Johnny Greene's usual style was, as troubling as it was, in another fashion, satisfying. The general was worried that he had overstepped the parameters of their long association in this morning's meeting. Ordinarily, Johnny just made a telepathic contact when they were both onstation. And they were going in a Limo, huh? Peter grinned. Maybe he was just in the way of giving General J. Greene a surprise on this Lunar Insertion Moon Orbit shuttle.
When he did make mental contact, Johnny sounded a bit tentative.
Just sent the SA party down. Leitao was totally out of it. Fraga was closer to her than a blister. Wonder if there's something between them? I'm checking out the crate I'll be flying.
I thought the admiral said there wouldn't be transport until late tomorrow?
I'm speeding things up. Silversmith is checking out our EMUs. I used rank to get the galley stuffed with decent chow instead of standard grub. I bumped one other passenger so we could stow as much of Watari's wish list as the shuttle'll take. Since he now knows who to ask, he sent us another list of urgent items. We take 'em with us, he's got no gripe that you're joyriding to the Moon. On a totally different tack, the general added: Did you have that fried chicken they were serving in the officers' mess?
Peter hesitated briefly. Had some of Leitao's paranoia rubbed off on him that morning? Was Johnny serving notice that Peter had been seen with Ceara Scott? Or just being friendly?
Yeah, with the corn bread and pecan pie.
I missed a good meal and everyone informed me that I had, and there was genuine regret in his voice.
Does Rhyssa know we're going to First Base?
Yeah. I had Madlyn tell her that.
And about the meeting? Peter really didn't want Rhyssa to be upset about the responsibilities he had just undertaken.
Noooo, not exactly, Johnny said, hedging, sounding more like himself. Madlyn didn't know either so scuttlebutt's been contained. For a while, he added cynically. We'll make our getaway before that goes public. See ya down at boat bay twenty-nine, kit and caboodle, no later than 0230. Get an early night. Okay?
Okay!
Curious about which pilot would be flying the Limo-34 with them, Peter put in a call to Nicola Nizukami, who was certainly quite willing to tell him that Lieutenant Xiang Liu would copilot the flight with General Greene. Peter thanked her, smiling to himself. Couldn't be better. A Limo, had a crew of four and accommodated a dozen passengers, including service personnel who could be counted on to stand a watch. He began to pack, knowing he was limited to one kilo since a Limo's facilities were spartan. First in was his EMU skin. So he was really going to get to the Moon. Almost absently, he slipped in the papers he'd need.