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!
"The office we've been promising you," Dirk said at his most genial, eager to point out the amenities. He gestured to the screens. "You'll now be able to screen cargo corrals, lists, engineering readiness, and any destination visuals you need to see." He held up a branch of sensor pads. "All you need to record your 'ports." He replaced them carefully and slapped at the padded chair next to him. "Ergonomically conformable chairs, the latest in worktops, extra chairs, and another station for visitors."
"Like Lance Baden, no doubt," Johnny said, with a cynical lift to one eyebrow.
"Yes, he'll be here Friday, won't he?" Dirk rattled on. "The lefthand one is a special link to Engineering. A serving alcove off the main room," he pointed to the door on the left wall. "Coffee, Pete's favorite tea, and high-calorie snacks already stored. Your own head and shower. And a couch long enough for anyone who needs a catnap."
"Indispensable," Johnny said.
"General Greene," Peter said, glaring at his friend. "How can you be so ungrateful? You've been complaining every day since we got back about our need for proper office space and dedicated equipment."
Dirk laughed and dismissed Johnny's pose. "If he affects that attitude, I know he's well pleased."
"Am I now?" Johnny sent one of the ergonomic chairs spinning. Then he relented and grinned broadly. "It's perfect, Dirk. Even paper for me to doodle on." He touched the pristine pad prominently displayed by the keypanel. "It'll suit us both to the ground, as it were. Won't it, Pete?" He stopped the chair's rotation and sat in it, immediately stretching his legs out under the workstation, before reaching out to align the pad with the edge. "Perfect. Nearly as good as the stuff we've been shipping to First Base," he added with a sly glance at the admiral.
"You are some tulip, Greene," Dirk said, shaking his head.
"Really, Admiral, it's so comfortable-looking," Peter said, imbuing his voice with unreserved approval. "I mean, and the colors are great…"
"At least they're not AirForce blue or First Base slate," Johnny remarked, though his glance about the newly fitted room was admiring.
"Oh, do shut up, Johnny," Peter said. "It's exactly what we wanted and what we need."
"I like green," Johnny said meekly. In a single fluid motion that Peter would give anything to be able to perform when he had control of his physical movements, Johnny rose and clapped an arm over Dirk's shoulders. "To tell the truth, I didn't expect anything quite this elegant." He eased Dirk to the door. "We'll transfer our files and let you get back to work."
Sensing that Johnny particularly did not want the admiral to know about Gadriel's circuits yet, Peter flowed forward, quite willing to speed their guest on his way.
"You'll need these," and Dirk handed out two security cards. "Only Barney and I can get in." He assumed a humble mien. "I hope you don't object to me."
"Never," Johnny said warmly and clapped Dirk on the back once more before he left. "C'mon, Pete, we'd better get moving or our landlord might just evict us for failure to perform." He paused for another moment, though, looking around the well-appointed room, and exhaled in total satisfaction.
With ease, they tuned into the Gadriel circuits and lifted all their files from the conference room, including Johnny's latest doodle pad.
In the next few days, Peter experienced considerable frustration when skills he had struggled so to perform telekinetically, now had to be discarded to retrain himself to do it "normally." He particularly wanted to show Lance how he had progressed but he seemed to get his signals switched.
"What is normal for me, Ceara?" he asked, throwing down the light-pen that he had been using. "I can do so much kinetically that it's almost more of an effort to do it the way everyone else does. And I'm not good enough yet to do what I want to do."
"Even world-class artists had to learn to control their tools," she replied.
"You saw me drop the fork at lunch today?"
"Anyone could. A lot of people do," she replied, soothing him with her thoughts. "They think nothing of such a slip."
"Ahhhh, Ceara, don't try to empathize me," he said, eyeing her fiercely.
She blinked and tried to assume an innocent expression. Then gave a sigh. "Sorry, Peter, it's second nature to me."
That shut off his gripe because it was second nature to them both to use their parapsychic Talents. That was what annoyed him but the paradox existed.
She touched his arm, knowing he liked to be touched now because he had so much more sensation in his limbs. "Remember what you're making progress toward," she said with a significant nod.
Peter struggled not to blush. She was a physician, but she was also a very pretty woman and he didn't really feel comfortable with that reference to regaining "normal functions." In her professional capacity, Ceara was up to date on his progress and encouraged him when, as now, he lost patience.
"It won't be long, Peter. Now, shake your hand to relax all the muscles. You've been trying too hard again. I think the image is coming on fine."
"Well," Peter said on a sigh, "I'll try again." He was copying the print of an ancient clipper ship. The sails were very difficult to sketch, with lines and braces. With his free hand, he ran his fingers through his hair in an unconscious gesture of frustration. And froze with surprise when he realized what he'd done. Ceara caught that gesture, too! The pen slipped from his right hand and rolled across the worktop.
"Oh, Peter! You did it. Without thinking. See, your muscles do remember!" She threw her arms about his neck and kissed him on the lips.
Suddenly, he knew what Finn had meant-that the man within him would stand up and be noticed. This was not the bath-giving Nurse Roche. This was Ceara Scott for whom he felt more than empathy at this moment. He caught her arms and held them about his neck, levitating out of his chair and pulling her against him. She returned the embrace enthusiastically. Her eyes widened as she became aware that not only were muscles remembering but also certain glands were in working order.
"Oh, Peter, how marvelous!"
"Ceara," he began. Her mind opened to his completely, filling him with her willingness, an urgency of her own, and an intense desire for intimacy. He was even able to lift her into his arms and carry her to the bed. 'Porting would have been faster, but there were some things a man didn't hurry.
On Friday, while they were waiting for Lance to arrive, Peter wanted to level with the Australian about the Gadriel circuitry.
"It isn't as if he didn't know I tapped into the CERN generators to save us," Peter said.
"Yeah, but do you want to tell him he can't because he's tone-deaf? That's sorta mean, isn't it? Let it be for now. We're not really sure what we're doing anyhow."
Peter reluctantly accepted that argument.
Lance arrived and was suitably impressed with the office. "No names on the door," he remarked, jerking his thumb over his shoulder. Then he put his hands on his belt and took a slow look around, nodding as he cataloged the various amenities.
"Hmm, nice digs you've got here." Stepping farther into the room, he rotated one of the conformable chairs. "Bang on."
"Coffee, Lance? Tea?" Peter said, making himself physically walk to the serving alcove.
"Hey, lookit you! On your own, too! That's great, mate. Real great. Couldn't happen to a nicer bloke!" Lance beamed, his eyes crinkling up.
"Coffee? Tea?"