Pegasus In Space

Though intellectually Peter did realize that, it was hard not to think that Mike was a despot, putting him through strenuous exercises, demanding more and more at each session. If Sue, his original therapist, had seemed strict, she was a pussycat in comparison to Mike.

"Gotta get those quadriceps moving." Mike used a litany of those muscles in a sort of chant as he worked Peter through his body: arms, chest, abdomen, pelvis, back, and legs. "Think into the tissue of pectoralis major. And don't forget the minor. Let's get these arms working-deltoid, biceps, triceps, the flexors. Your belly, sir, and its latissimus dorsi, the rectus abdominus. Your good ol' gluteus maximus, medius, and minimus. Get 'em working. Make your muscles remember what they once did. Quadriceps, rectus femoris. They will remember, you know, if you make them. You're a psychic. Make your mind work for you."

"I was " Peter gasped, sweating to move inches when a half hour before he had 'ported hundredweights to the Moon, "doing just fine that way. This is different."

And, oh, how different it was! It almost defeated him. Sternly he reminded himself that getting rid of that damned appliance would be worth an ocean of sweat. Markstein reassured him that the diversion could be reversed and he would be able to control his bodily functions. That was an ambition devoutly to be realized. The operation had been done to him-without him realizing what it meant-after the consultants regretfully announced that his paralysis was incurable.

When telekinesis had given Peter mobility, he had pleaded with Dr. McNulty to reconnect him, but the doctor had regretfully replied that Peter did not have the sympathetic nervous system to control voluntary actions, no matter how clever he had been at counterfeiting movement in his limbs.

"If I have to wait for voluntary muscle control to develop, how will I know when it does?" Peter asked Finn.

The doctor twitched his lips, cleared his throat, and his eyes gleamed. "You'll know. The man in you will stand up and be noticed."

It took Peter a moment to realize what Markstein meant, and then he felt the blood rush to his face. He remembered, all too vividly, the three A.M. bath!

"You'll know, Peter," the doctor repeated gently.

It took ten days of designing, testing, and refining-and some very serious headaches-before Professor Gadriel and Peter were satisfied with their results.

"Look at this, we have a one hundred percent decrease in power consumption when the circuits are tuned." Professor Gadriel chortled happily to himself. "And you were so right, Peter, to think of using musical notes for tuning-very efficient. I also notice that your friend Lance Baden is tone-deaf, which probably explains why he cannot achieve the gestalt. It is also true that some telekinetics take longer to achieve a gestalt, but those times decrease significantly when the generators are tuned to their pitch."

"It's as though a telekinetic has a particular range of ability-and the peak efficiency is at a particular frequency," Peter observed.

"I agree," said Johnny Greene, who had been brought in as a later test subject. He rubbed the back of his neck in a vain attempt to rid himself of his latest headache. "And now I know why I like songs in G major more than those in C."

Peter's best key was C major.

"I also see that our efficiencies increase with the greater efficiency of the gestalt circuitry-the 0.1 micron circuits are much easier to work with," Johnny noted. "Professor, when do you think we can push down to finer circuitry?"

Tomas frowned and shook his head. "We are dealing with a great amount of power, General Greene. It is very hard to design such fine traces to handle such high loads."

Johnny sighed and nodded. "But it is obvious that the closer we are to the quantum-mechanical limit, the easier it is for us to enter into the gestalt."

"Ah, but we must be careful not to let other quantum-mechanical effects overwhelm our circuitry' " Tomas countered.

"I think the really important thing, Tomas, is when can we get this new circuitry installed up here on Padrugoi?" Peter said.

Tomas perked up. "Oh, didn't I mention?" Across the link, the other two shook their heads. "Ah, well-today, if you can stand the headache of picking it up."

"Can we!" Peter and Johnny chorused. The several crates of ultrasensitive circuitry from CERN were deposited with butterfly delicacy to the high-security storage on Engineering deck.

From such sublimity, Peter reported for another very physical session with Mike. And so he sweated, had his muscles galvanically stimulated, ate the special diet-which included the complex carbohydrates he needed-despite the extra loads that had to be emptied more regularly from the waste-bag. He also reinstituted the limbic exercises Sue had taught him. In a way, that was following Mike's advice about thinking into his tissue. And deadening the pain! It was almost good to feel pain, to stretch and compress. Almost!

Peter was also almost sorry to have the next week off, because Lieutenant Temuri Bergkamp was quite willing to install the CERN circuits to improve the performance of his generators in gestalt. He said it would take at least the week to get them integrated. He grinned at both Johnny and Peter, a twinkle in his eye that told them he'd been on the list of those who needed to know how Limo-34 had been able to make it back to First Base.