Pegasus in Space (36 page)

You’re the engineer
. Johnny was teasing, Peter knew, to keep his flagging energy going.

Hang on a mo, Pete
, Lance added.
I’m in my EMU. I can take you back. You’re quartered in Clemens Block next to me anyhow. I’ll just requisition one of those lunar rovers coming in. I doubt Watari’ll want me to help investigate that wreck
.

Too right, mate
, Johnny said, imitating Lance.
Certainly Watari likes to run his own look-sees. I think you should get a message back to Padrugoi. Very discreet
.

Watari has all messages recorded
, Lance said.
At least the official ones
.

Peter listened, wondering if this was the time to suggest that maybe they wouldn’t
need
official channels back to Padrugoi. Only how, exactly, were they to explain what had happened? When Peter himself wasn’t sure. And they were days earlier than the normal five days to First Base. But, getting a quiet word back to Madlyn who could then privately reassure Rhyssa, was an option. He hated to think of Rhyssa, Dorotea, and Amariyah thinking him burnt to a crisp. If only he could get Madlyn’s attention. Most of the brunette’s mental ruminations dwelt on Commander Dash Sakai. He could visualize Madlyn, chin on her hand, a dreamy smile on her face. Was visualization the key to sending or was it touch?

Not now, he told himself wearily. I can barely ’port to Lance and Johnny. I’m tired, he admitted, recognizing the difference between the adrenaline high of being safely
on the Moon
as opposed to being strong with physical vigor. He might not have limits to his telepathy and teleportation but he did have a finite measure of energy. All the odd sensations that he was experiencing were fatigue, that’s all.

Suddenly a space-suited figure bounced up to him. “I’ve borrowed that rover,” Lance said, and pointed in the appropriate direction.

That was when Peter noticed that the airlock bus was backing away
from the Limo and that there were men—the security squad probably—swarming about the wreck. The hatch opened again and Lieutenant Liu stood there, saluting to the two men waiting to get aboard.

“This way, Pete,” Lance said, touching his arm. With relief, Peter drifted beside Lance and didn’t object when Lance gave him a little kinetic push on the way.
So what did you tap into to get here so precipitously? Watari’s dying to know
.

So am I
, Peter said ruefully.

Did you really ’port all the way from your TLI-3 burn?
Lance was impressed.

Peter nodded his helmet.
With the boost we got from—somewhere
. He wasn’t sure if he should confide in Lance, though it went against his grain to prevaricate to someone he knew so well. But he was so security conscious right now, after such a near thing. Lance would surely understand the reticence when the time came that Peter
could
mention the CERN assistance.

Peter stumbled, aware that there was little to stumble over on this smooth
mare
. Lance put his hand under Peter’s arm, reducing the effort Peter had to make.

I think my last meal just ran out
, Peter said.

We’re nearly there
, Lance encouraged him and half shoved him into the lunar rover. Once Peter was strapped in, he let fatigue wash over him.

Thing is, you made it. Well done. Now to find out who
.

And why
, Peter added.

“Hold on now, Reidinger,” Lance said out loud, aware that there’d be someone monitoring them.

Peter let himself relax, safe and secure in Lance’s company. He barely took in Lance’s explanation of the geography of First Base as he was driven to the nearest airlock. Then they were being cycled through it, Lance helping him from the rover, encountering the three-quarters Earth gravity that First Base maintained within the dome; unsuiting in the ready-room, Lance getting the sergeant to take charge of their EMUs; getting Peter’s Base ID, room assignment, and ration-card—all the necessary bureaucratic details required by security.

Not much longer, Pete
, Lance said. “If you’re hungry, Reidinger, I can show you where the mess is.”

“If it’s all the same, Lance, I’d rather get to my quarters.”

“Right ch’ar,” Lance replied amiably, and indicated they should hang a right as they came to a five-way junction of corridors, the widest one being the main route to the Control Intelligence Center offices in Akahiro Block. Babe Ruth Block was in that direction as well. Despite his fatigue, Peter noticed the steel doors that would seal off sections in each corridor. He saw the alcoves containing glassed cabinets of emergency oxygen masks. He thought in passing that this was just the place for someone to follow the book.

They turned up one of the narrower hallways down to a Y junction where Lance took the right again.

“Clemens Block—where us transient specialists are housed. But the tucker’s good. Did you bring in the new cooks?”

“We did.”

“Good! One needs a change in the hand that stirs the chowder.”

The hallway was lined with doors and Lance stopped at the fourth one on the left.

“We got you a single, Pete. I’m next door. Call addie is 5775.”
Or you can call me
.

Politely, Lance took the plastic room card from Peter’s limp grasp and slid it into the slot; a soft snick and the door opened. He gave Peter a gentle shove inside and then led him to the bunk, wider by a good meter than the Limo’s accommodation.

Lie down. I’ll get your boots off and tuck you in, m’friend. You’re one weary chook
.

Peter made no complaint and willingly laid his body down, faintly aware of the blanket covering him. He was asleep before Lance dropped the first boot to the floor.

P
ete? Pete? Pe-ter!
The voice was soft but insistent. Peter woke.
Pete? You’re awake? Ah, yes, you are. Rhyssa’s having knicker fits until she has an eyes-on report from Madlyn that you are here
.

Johnny?

That’s who. C’mon, get up. I’ll give you time to shower and clothe the bod
.

Did you find out anything?

About the sabotage? Not much, except we’re not dealing with stupids
.
Someone rigged the MPUs raw-ther
, and Johnny drawled the words,
deftly. And it had to be someone
on
Padrugoi. No time to import anything, or anyone, ’cos I was the chief importer. I sent folks downside. I didn’t bring anything upstation that hadn’t gone through security. On Earth or again on Padrugoi
.

I’m awake
, Peter reassured the general, aware that he had to drain his waste-bag like right now! He levitated up, found the toilet, and emptied the appliance as Johnny continued his instructions.

I’ll send a guide. You’ll need one
.

A guide? Or a bodyguard?

A little of both. And check it out. I can ‘feel’ a menacing presence from time to time
, Johnny added grimly.
Lance warned me. I’m warning you
.

Peter exhaled at that intelligence. He looked around, realizing that he hadn’t even noticed his accommodation when Lance had brought him here. Was it last night? Well, whenever it was. His small bag was on the desk and he “pulled” out a fresh coverall and shorts. He returned to the bathroom. A notice on the shower enclosure warned him that water usage was limited: he was advised to soap before turning the taps on.

He did and felt refreshed despite the brevity of the wash. He was closing his coverall when he heard a brief tap on his door.

“Corporal Hinojosa, sir,” a female voice announced.

“Be right with you, Corporal,” he said, and slid his fleece-lined shoes over his feet.

“Good morning, Mr. Reidinger,” she said when he opened the door. She must be just within the height limit for the service and he felt he towered above her. She had a lot of black curls, dark eyes, and a ready smile. “This way, sir.” She gestured gracefully toward the intersection. “You’re expected in Akahiro Block—that’s the original facility, if you haven’t had time to study a map of First Base.”

He deliberately matched his steps to hers; she had a long stride for a person her size. First Base’s slate-gray uniform looked fashionable on her.

“I know who Babe Ruth and DiMaggio were, but who was Akahiro?”

She flashed him a smile. “He was the most outstanding first baseman of the international Japanese Nippon Nicks baseball team in this century, sir. Popped more home runs than the legendary Mark McGwire. The North Americans didn’t happen to have a baseball celebrity whose name
began with an A, so the Japanese got first crack. They didn’t have a
C
either, so Clemens got his innings, as it were.”

Peter responded to her wit with a genuine laugh. He enjoyed the walk—at least until they went through the major lock to Babe Ruth Block. There he caught malevolence so palpable that he staggered. Johnny had done well to warn him. But where did it come from? Men and women, clad in the slate-gray uniforms, seemed to be moving briskly on errands. A group of four wearing gym suits was ambling more casually along the main corridor. Then the hate disappeared as if an impenetrable door had closed it off. Peter looked quickly up and down the long main access corridor and then the corporal was gesturing for him to enter the Akahiro Block.

I felt it in the Babe Ruth Block, Johnny
.

Same here. And that’d take a lot of sifting since that block holds the main living quarters, mess halls, and leisure amenities for both service personnel and consultants, and ends up at the prison wing that has its own airlock. Hurry along there, will ya?

I’m following my leader
, Peter said, not at all averse to doing so.

“We’re nearly there, Mr. Reidinger,” the corporal said, pausing at an elevator shaft and slipping an ID into the slot at one side. The leaves parted and they entered.

Peter felt the upward motion through his feet and then they reached their destination: the CIC of First Base. As he stepped out, a staggering panorama of moonscape was spread out, hazed slightly by the material of the enclosing dome, but nonetheless magnificent. So was the landing field the Limo should have used. The pathetic-looking wreck was on the left-hand side, near smaller separate domes that must be repair and maintenance facilities. A gantry surrounded the Limo and technicians were busy. Three other spaceships, a little four-man courier rocket, and two Limos, both smaller than the
34
, were parked to the right near the landing terminal that was the official debarkation area. Beyond them on the widest part of the terminal apron, two freight lighters were parked, waiting to bring down cargo from the next orbiting freighter. So, in spite of all the problems, freighters were still transporting supplies to First Base.

“Colonel Watari’s office is just here, Mr. Reidinger,” Corporal Hinojosa said, having given him a few moments to appreciate the view before she stepped to the door and pressed the “open” plate.

“Thank you, Corporal.”

“My pleasure, Mr. Reidinger.”

“Pete!” Johnny waved expansively for him to hurry in. The general looked remarkably refreshed in a dark blue coverall that was a contrast to the slate-gray fatigues of Colonel Watari and Major Cyberal. Lance Baden in his preferred sand-colored shorts, shirt, and boots grinned a welcome. “Come in, come in. Watari, we can place that call now. Pete, sit here.” He slapped the back of a chair he’d pulled out from the conference table where the First Base officers were sitting.

As Peter moved to obey, he caught a glimpse on his left of the worktop where he’d put the precious seismic sensors only days before. Watari scowled but the major nodded a more amiable greeting.

“Have you got the admiral yet?” Watari asked, leaning toward the comunit set into the panel of the table.

“On-screen, sir. Now!”

There was the admiral, seated in the center of his conference table. On one side of him Madlyn wiggled her fingers as the image cleared, Commander Chatham beyond her. On the other side of Coetzer was Dr. Scott, who seemed unbelievably glad to set eyes on those at the Base, and two security officers that Peter recognized from seeing them in the mess.

“Pete, you’re a vision for sore eyes,” the admiral said. “Madlyn’s relaying to Rhyssa that she’s eyeballing you. I don’t think she’d take
my
word unconfirmed,” and Coetzer’s one-sided grin suggested to Peter that Rhyssa had been difficult. “Bindra and Ottey here are going over the security tapes of the boat bay, all recent visitors, and we hope to figure out who tampered with the Limo.”

“Madlyn,” Johnny said, with a polite nod to the admiral for interrupting, “you need empaths up there. I’ve got more than the usual emanations of dislike for psychics recently. And Lance, Pete, and I sensed a virulent presence here.”

“On First Base.” Watari exclaimed, as if denying the possibility.

“You do have quite a few lifetime prisoners on First Base, Watari,” Johnny said, his face inscrutable.

“We’ve offenders here, too,” the admiral said, shaking his head slowly. “The double wristbands are supposed to prevent them from entering any sensitive area. Bindra, check the entire roster of offies. Could you ‘hear’ anything from them, Madlyn?”

“Sir, I’m not an empath,” she replied, almost apologetically. “But you can have the best at your disposal the moment you ask.”

“Please be so good as to make that request right now, Madlyn,” Dirk said, and then spoke over his shoulder to his yeoman. “Send an official signal to Ms. Lehardt at the Eastern Center, Yeoman Nizukami, asking for empathic assistance as soon as possible.” Then Coetzer looked back to the screen.

“You may be sure we’ll check our resident offenders,” Watari said stiffly.

“You may be sure I’ll help him,” Johnny Greene added.

“I can’t see how anyone here could have had any part in the sabotage of the Limo,” Watari said.

“Possibly not,” Johnny agreed amiably. “But right now I’d rather not have an unknown quantity that can project such malice in my vicinity. Much less Pete’s.”