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!
Next thing you know, she'll be sending down the offies and LEO will have to find another 'secure' facility to stash them in during their sentences.
Indeed. Rhyssa was not pleased to think that certain offenders might be returned to Earth. But surely Padrugoi would need janitorial services, unless Admiral Coetzer was against such penal servitude. Their quarters could be used for more storage space. Rhyssa wondered why she was suddenly arguing on the side of Barchenka. And Mallie says nothing?
Nothing she can articulate, and his mental voice was definitely troubled. You'll all come, won't you? Peter can 'port the three of you to Gate 134 at the Jerhattan Space Port at GMT 0900 tomorrow. I'll be there. Then his mental touch disappeared.
Rhyssa sat back in her chair, propping her elbow on the armrest and her chin on her hand. Peter had to be there, more than she? Hmmm. Well, Peter was the strongest kinetic. Even stronger than Johnny had become, once the former etop pilot got the hang of how Peter used generator gestalt to assist a launch. Peter would be thrilled to pieces to be at the Inauguration. In fact, Rhyssa had had to talk sternly to herself when VIPs all over the world had received their invitations and the Eastern Parapsychics hadn't received any. They were not, as a group or singly-despite the enormous help they had been to the difficult Barchenka-anywhere on her list of preferred guests.
Rhyssa examined the invitation, running the tip of her finger over the raised engraving, and felt the "tingle" of an encoded line. Well, obviously one did not get into the Inauguration without presenting this card.
"Hmmm. Taking no chances, huh, are you, Ludmilla?" So there was a top-level security effort? As well there should be, she thought. And yet, Rhyssa frowned, why? Few could, or would, sabotage Padrugoi now it was built. The cost-in human lives as well as effort-had been staggering, including the on-completion bonus for Barchenka. The project had had the enthusiastic support of every nation; it meant a way off overcrowded Earth, to the habitable planets already identified in this sector of the galaxy. The first generation ship had been built in space over twenty years ago and launched to Procyon, eleven light-years away, from the old, now-defunct Space Station. Since then, in speedier spaceships, other journeys had been initiated.
Well, Rhyssa wanted badly to go to the Inauguration. Now she would, and so would Peter. And Dave would, too, for their sakes. As she called up her nonpsychic husband's office number, she heard a scratch at her door. Had she been "broadcasting" the news that loudly?
"Come on in, Peter," she called.
The door opened and Peter's invitation disappeared from her desktop and reappeared in his hand.
"I don't believe it, Rhyssa, I don't believe it," he chortled, clutching it to his chest. "What took 'em so long? And who else is coming with us?"
"Dave's coming."
On cue, Dave answered her call. "Yes, Rhyssa?"
"Take the day off tomorrow. We're going to the Inauguration. I've got the invitations."
"We?"
"You, Peter, and I," she said, controlling the impatience she sometimes felt when he didn't pick up on what was so vivid in her own mind.
"Left it a bit late, haven't they?" Dave said in a dry tone of voice.
"Johnny Greene said it was the difficulty in arranging passenger space when so many have to get there on time," Rhyssa replied, though that really didn't wash as a valid excuse.
"Gee, Rhyssa," and Peter's facial expression was mixed confusion, annoyance, and surprise. "I could get us there."
"Yes, I know, dear," Rhyssa said. "However, we do have the formal invitations, complete with the integral security code."
Peter's eyes widened.
"That's good. I'd hate to be spaced because I had a bogus invite," Dave said. "See you tonight."
"Security codes?" Peter tore open the envelope and put the invitation against his cheek to feel the embedded security. "Wow!"
"Double wow! Not even my skeleteam," and Rhyssa rose from her desk and came around to ruffle Peter's hair, "would be able to enter Barchenka's lair without the proper code."
"Oh," and Peter lifted his eyebrows, running his finger over the code. His expression altered to "naughty boy." "I could!"
"We'll be legal tomorrow," Rhyssa said, mildly chiding.
"Oh," and Peter's face changed-the naughty boy reminded of previous mischief. He looked down and subtly grounded his feet, which had been a centimeter above the carpet.
He had been paralyzed since the day a wall had fallen on him and irreparably damaged his spine. A body brace that was supposed to give him some mobility had malfunctioned and he had lost use of his arms as well, until he had discovered an alternative method of moving himself-using kinesis. Mind, in this case, was very definitely over the mere matter of body. He had also learned how to imitate proper movement, using his remarkable gestalt with any available source of electric power. Given sufficiently powerful generators, young Peter Reidinger had performed feats of telekinesis far beyond expectation, such as moving supply shuttles from Florida to Padrugoi Station. His youthfulness-Peter was just fifteen-had precluded his regular employment by the Eastern Parapsychic Center; only his age had prevented him from being drafted onto the Space Station by Barchenka. Unknown to many, Rhyssa had had to make use of his particular abilities in several emergency situations, but she had been determined not to strain his blossoming Talent. Indeed, neither Lance Baden, the strongest of the other kinetic Talents, nor Sascha Roznine, who was the head of the Eastern Center's training program, had yet been able to assess Peter's full potential. Of course, now that Lance's conscription on Padrugoi was virtually over, he would be able to train and evaluate Peter Reidinger.
"Speaking of new clothes, though, Peter," and Rhyssa eyed his casual attire, loose-fitting trousers, well worn, and halfway up his calf. He was getting taller by the minute. "You can't go like that. Give Tirla a shout. She'll grab any excuse to go shopping." Rhyssa paused. "She has excellent taste."
Peter was quite willing to contact the former waif of Linear G, who was now living on Long Island with her foster parents, Lessud and Shria. Tirla waited, impatiently, until she reached her sixteenth birthday and was legally old enough to marry Sascha Roznine. She'd tagged him as "hers" when he rescued her from subsistence level living in the Linear.
The next morning, clad in an elegantly fashionable new tunic suit, Peter linked in with the Center's generators and teleported Rhyssa and Dave Lehardt to the telepad that General John Greene had given as their destination.
"Neat placement, Pete " he said, pushing himself upright from the vehicle he had been leaning against. He unfolded arms that had been crossed over the front of his dress uniform and the prestigious medals properly displayed. His face broke into a grin as he noticed Peter trying hard not to be self-conscious in the outfit that Tirla had bullied him into buying. Then Johnny whistled at an elegantly garbed Rhyssa, dressed in a trouser suit of her favorite dark green. He nodded approval at Dave's dress tunic, trimmed in the same shade.
"Where're the generators?" Peter asked, noticing how far they were from the main buildings of the Jerhattan Space Port.
"There!" and Johnny pointed to a seemingly innocent pile of vehicle shipping crates bunched together.
"Oh!" They could all hear his tentative "lean" into the units as he tested their capacity. "They'll do," Peter said, and then glided to the vehicle, the small torpedo-shaped, windowless drone that Johnny had been leaning against. Its surface, while dull, was bare of the usual remnants of plastic shipping waybills that festooned such shippers.
"Tell us why we're here," Dave asked, looking about at the drab edge of the huge landing field.