Pegasus In Space

"Who, what, date, and wager," Kibon said in a flat, rasping tone without looking up when Ranjit entered. He was a squat man of indeterminate age, his round face scarred with acne. His hands, the first joint on both little fingers missing, were poised over the keys to make the entry. He wore a janitor's tabs on a well-worn, dingy red onepiece coverall that had been Barchenkan issue, patched and frayed at cuffs and collar and almost threadbare at the closings.

Ranjit had had dealings with illegal bookmaking operators before and was primed.

"The kid," he said, using the onstation title awarded Peter Reidinger, "return, within two weeks, ten credits, what're the odds?"

Kibon glanced up only long enough to read Ranjit's ID number. He grunted. "New here, arncha? Ten to one against."

"I'll take it."

Ranjit also "took" Kibon's public thoughts about the kid and the wager as the disguised LEO lieutenant carefully counted the credits, in small denominations, into the meaty, thick-fingered hand Kibon held out. Kibon had no opinions one way or another about the kid. He was aware that Peter was one of them psi-kicks. He'd made money on the wager that the kid wouldn't hack the black. He was willing to enjoy profit on this bet, too.

"Bert said it's a winner," the lieutenant said, imbuing his tone with a wistful hope. Kibon grunted; his thoughts about Bert were uncomplimentary and very wary. Especially since Bert had suddenly taken out of Kibon's keeping a great deal of credit. Certain other persons-Ranjit caught flashes of their faces-also frequent customers, had suddenly been flush enough to put substantial bets against the kid making it to First Base. Kibon was glad to see the credits returned so quickly to his keeping.

Scrupulously counting the quarters and halves piece by piece, Kibon slipped Ranjit's credits into a slot to one side of the keypad. Ranjit could hear them hitting others and realized that the entire body of the desk was Kibon's safe deposit box. The bookie, also listening intently to the sound, thought that he'd better empty it tonight and deposit it. He also inadvertently thought where the deposit was made. Ranjit filed away that information for future reference.

Kibon gave Ranjit a cold stare. "That all?"

Ranjit nodded, bowed humbly, and retreated quickly from the office, bumping into the skinny man who was waiting to enter. Again quick with apologies, Ranjit bowed himself away, down the narrow hall and into a broader corridor. He went into the first toilet area, which reeked mainly of antiseptic, and into a stall where he could make his report unobserved. Iswah granted to every man some small space of privacy at least once a day.

Commissioner?

Yes, Ranjit?

And the lieutenant flashed Boris Roznine the faces he had caught from Kibon's mind and reported that Bert, although off duty, was not in his quarters nor did his cellmates know where he was. Boris thanked him and relayed that report to Ottey and Bindra, the Padrugoi security officers in the office with him.

Go on a walkabout, Ranjit, just in case you might come across Flimflam.

Very good, sir.

"Do you want me to do some lurking, too, Commissioner?" Cass asked, since she, too, could identify Bert.

"That might not be a bad idea, Cass."

"An offender can't get above Ten Deck, or in the Malls without guards," Ottey said.

Cass smiled and slipped out of the office.

"Could he?" Bindra asked Ottey.

"He's not supposed to have access," Ottey replied, scowling.

"With someone like Flimflam, one can never be sure " Boris said mildly, and then asked to view the ID images of all offenders currently on the station. "The janitor staff as well. Flimflam can work a crowd a treat."

"This," and Ping Yung proudly pressed the entrance plate to his plant kingdom, "is the major Controlled Environment Life Support System, CELSS on Padrugoi. There are other, smaller units elsewhere throughout the Station."

His guests followed him onto the balcony that overlooked the many-leveled hydroponic unit that was a deep well in the main stem of the Station. Amariyah gasped, hands crossed over her chest, blue eyes enormous as she saw, to her, a horticulturist's heaven. The air was slightly humid and redolent with hints of fertilizing substances. Dorotea was impressed by its compactness and the amazing variety of recognizable plants in the tanks on the levels below. She had not given much thought to how air was purified on Padrugoi, nor how it managed to feed its population on a daily basis. She'd heard enough about the problem of fuel and supply, but not much about feeding folks, though Peter had told her the food "wasn't that bad."

Rhyssa watched the reactions of her two gardening enthusiasts and smiled. It was worth the trip just to see their faces.