Pegasus in Space (37 page)

“His security is in our hands,” Watari said. When Johnny raised his eyebrows in query, he added, “Corporal Hinojosa is a martial arts specialist and far more dangerous than she appears.”

“Really?”

“Really.” Watari said in flat voice.

“I’d like additional surveillance for Pete. I’ll take Sergeant Singh for mine.” Johnny glared at Watari. “Lance?”

The Australian shrugged. “I don’t work outside alone, Johnny. I’m in full view of the construction team. I’ve never felt any threat in Clemens Block.”

“Gentlemen,” and the admiral entered firmly into the conversation, “we shall continue our investigations with vigor. As soon as Mr. Reidinger has seen all that he requires of First Base and you can assure us that
Limo-34
is operational
and
secure, please contact us again. I will, of course, let you know of any developments at Padrugoi. Pete, Baden, General, Colonel, Major, good evening.”

The screen went blank. Johnny heaved himself to his feet. “Pete, you need to eat breakfast. So do I. Lance, are you joining us?”

“If there is nothing pending, Colonel?” and Lance rose, looking politely to Watari for his answer.

“You are scheduled to accompany Mr. Reidinger to be sure he and General Greene see all that they need to.” Almost as if he resented the courtesy
it represented, Watari rose to his feet and gave a stiff bow in Peter’s direction. “I hope you will not hesitate to ask for anything you need.”

“Did we bring you the most urgent items, Colonel?” Peter asked politely.

“Yes. Thank you,” Watari hesitated then went on quickly, “but they would not have been worth your life, Mr. Reidinger.”

Well, get that!
Johnny said, turning toward the door.

He meant it, too
, Lance added, gesturing for Peter to precede him out the door. The corporal snapped to attention as she saw them emerging. Peter locked his eyes on the fabulous western aspect of First Base of Oceanus Procellarum, one of the few
mares
that was not bounded by mountains or fault scarps.

“The nearest mess hall, please, Corporal,” Johnny said, strolling toward the lift. “I’m hungry enough to eat a horse and Pete here’s been burning far too many calories.”

Peter did wonder what was “burning” in him right now but dismissed it. It was time to be hungry.

“Sir?” the corporal asked, concern in her voice.

“Don’t mind him, Nina,” Lance said with easy cordiality. “He’d never harm a horse.”

R
hyssa was overwhelmingly relieved to receive Madlyn’s shout from Padrugoi.

I’m looking at him right now, Rhyssa, and he seems a bit sleepy, his hair is still wet from a shower, but otherwise he’s fine. Oh, and the admiral’s about to request empaths from you. They think one of the offenders up here might be responsible for the sabotage
.

An offie?
Rhyssa was aghast. What station-held offender could possibly be able to sabotage anything?
I’ll check with Boris immediately and see who’s been sentenced upstation recently. Someone with technical skills. Thanks, Maddie. I’ll reassure Dorotea
.

She did that—news that was received with fervent thanks from Dorotea—before she put in a call to Boris Roznine for him to contact her telepathically as soon as possible. She barely had time to disseminate the good news about Peter through the main office before she felt Boris’s unmistakable touch.

Technically trained offies, Rhyssa?
he repeated.
Far too many
, was the LEO Commissioner’s immediate response.
I’ll send you a full roster but …
He broke off.
I’ll check
.

WHO, Boris? I caught that! Oh!

Yes, oh. ’Fraid you might, Rhyssa. Justice sentenced Albert Ponce, aka Flimflam, aka Ponsit Prosit, over five years ago to life incarceration on Padrugoi Station. He’s still there. He was also peripherally involved in the White-Coat Mutiny. He lost all the benefits he’d earned by previous good behavior, supporting her. Not that he was perceived to have taken a major role in the Mutiny. Even Barchenka didn’t trust him. But he has more than ample reason to hate Peter, though I don’t believe the two ever met. Did they?

Not really. Peter was unconscious while Flimflam was beating Tirla. She had been his primary target at the time. Peter was caught up in the grab for her
.

Parole officer notes Flimflam does a lot of betting but that’s not a crime upstation
.

Does he win?

Boris’s mental tone turned wry.
I can find out. I’d hate to owe Flimflam
.

I do. And I’m going to pay that debt
, Rhyssa said with such vehemence that Boris protested.

As LEO Commissioner, Rhyssa, I can’t turn a blind eye to everything the Center does
.

Rhyssa
, said another mental voice on a very tight focus,
you won’t need to if that man has harmed Peter
.

Dorotea!
Rhyssa exclaimed, as shocked by the implacable tone in the older woman’s voice as Boris had probably been by hers.

I think it’s about time LEO paid an unofficial but immediate visit to Padrugoi Station
, Boris said.
I’m sure Secretary Abubakar will authorize such an inspection. It is to the Station’s benefit
.

You, too? To see I play fair, Boris?

Let’s say to ascertain if offenders resident on the Station have set up an illegal network. And discern if there is any real antipathy to psychics there
.

Oh
. Rhyssa had to admit those excuses were legitimate. She paused.
Only we’ll have to make our own way upstation. Our kinetics are all on the Moon
.

Leave that detail to me, Rhyssa
, Boris replied.
Only don’t tell Madlyn we’re coming
.

She’s not indiscreet, Boris
, Rhyssa reminded him.
Especially about parapsychic business
.

She’s in love
, was Boris’s unequivocal reply.

C
learance to Padrugoi Station was not a problem with the documentation Rhyssa, Dorotea, and Amariyah were able to produce, especially with Admiral Coetzer’s official sanction. They went as a family group, grandmother, mother, and daughter. Amariyah was bubbling with excitement at going to see the Padrugoi hydroponic facilities. Rhyssa arranged for Ping Yung, the empathic specialist already on Padrugoi, to show her the extensive gardens. The girl chattered away on the trip up with Rhyssa and Dorotea. Dorotea held Rhyssa’s hand, physically and mentally, during the rocket flight.

I never thought I’d be doing
this, Dorotea said, several times.
I’m too old to travel perpendicular to the Earth. I’m too old to go this fast anywhere
.

I feel much the same way
, Rhyssa agreed, though she rather enjoyed the tremendous power in the shuttle’s rockets as they took off. Boris Roznine, seated three rows down and frowning at whatever files he was reading, had paid them no attention. Neither did Cass Cutler, traveling as his aide, nor Lieutenant Ranjit Youssef, who successfully looked his role as a menial worker, bound for six months’ work upstation. He was at the very back of the thirty-passenger vehicle. Both Cutler and Youssef had encountered Albert Ponce aka Flimflam before, although he was unlikely to recognize them.

Dorotea managed a little smile when she felt both Cutler and Youssef trying to soothe her fears and apprehensions.

I’m not afraid, people, nor am I apprehensive. I just don’t like this mode of travel. I like solid earth beneath my feet
, she told them.
I am also not a crowd person
.

She felt Cass’s amusement while Ranjit discreetly withdrew his encouraging thoughts. Cass’s unique parapsychic ability was crowd control, generally used to prevent a large mass of people from turning into a riot by subtly broadcasting neutralizing reassurances. Cass was subtle enough so that even Dorotea could not tell if she had stopped emanating.

The initial ten minutes of the flight featured a tri-d about Padrugoi Station, including the history of the internationally sponsored construction.
(The White-Coat Mutiny was not part of the spiel.) More important, the program explained what visitors could and could not do, should and should not expect, and how to react to an emergency. By then, Padrugoi was visible on the forward screens and grew rapidly to dominate the view as the shuttle seemed to inch closer.

Since her trip to Padrugoi for the Inauguration had been by Johnny’s teleport, Rhyssa hadn’t seen Padrugoi in all its complexity. She was as astounded by the view as those seeing it for the first time. She tried to take it all in, especially the cargo nets, flashing with buoy lights where Peter and Johnny had reduced disaster to calamity, the corner she could glimpse at this angle of the construction yard, and the dry dock surrounding the
Arrakis
. Amariyah wanted to know what all the little lights were.

“People working in space suits. The lights are their jetpacks, moving them about in weightless space,” Rhyssa told her.

“Like Peter does.”

“Like Peter does.” Did the girl really understand what Peter did?

“Will I be able to go out in a space suit with a jetpack when I come up to Padrugoi to work.” Amariyah asked.

“You won’t need to go out into space. The hydroponic gardens are inside the Station,” Dorotea replied with a sigh of relief.

“When will I get to see them? Are we nearly there?”

“Almost,” Rhyssa said placidly. She’d forgotten how convenient it was to have telekinetic transportation. Instantaneously. Going by shuttle, she was able to appreciate the distance separating Earth and Padrugoi.

Amariyah had to have everything explained to her: the nets, the gigs towing construction units or cargo containers, where the larger freighters were unloading cargo. Rhyssa wondered if the Station was ever quiet. “Day” had no meaning on Padrugoi and it probably took all twenty-four hours and its vast crew to keep it running.

F
inally they were docked and permitted to disembark. The security officer didn’t seem to take any notice once their retinal check matched their trip IDs.

Rhyssa?
And she felt the touch of Shandin Ross, Coetzer’s aide and telepath.
I’m officially here as escort for Commissioner Roznine but the admiral would very much like you to have lunch with him. Yeoman Nizukami will collect you after your tour of the hydroponics. It’s nice to see you again, Dorotea. Ping Yung is looking forward eagerly to showing off his gardens
.

The aide stepped aside; making room in the cramped entryway for the short, compact Ping Yung who eagerly surveyed the crowd until his eyes rested on her.

“It is an honor to have you here, Ms. Horvath, Ms. Lehardt, and Miss Bantam. If you would be so good as to follow me …” He bowed to each in turn in the fashion of his culture.

“You are of Chinese origin?” Amariyah asked very politely.

“Yes, Miss Bantam, from Hong Kong.” He bowed to indicate that being Hong Kong Chinese was special. “I have looked forward to this hour when I have the pleasure of showing you how we garden in space. This way, please.” He led them off.

Rhyssa, telepathically aware of the LEO Commissioner, heard Shandin’s greeting as Boris and Cass now disembarked. She was also aware that Ranjit was being hurried off in another direction by his contact. He, too, would immediately start work, investigating Flimflam’s activities onstation. As it happened, only Cass Cutler of the parapsychics had had any sustained mental contact with the suspect, during Flimflam’s appearance in
Linear G as head of a Religious Interpretation Group. Ranjit could do the background investigating, hopefully discovering as much as he could about Flimflam, and possible confederates, before an active move was attempted. One man, no matter how technically adept, could not have undertaken the sabotage of the Limo in the time available. Boris was required to deal with provable facts rather than the intuitive or psychic realities.

A
ccording to the work roster, Albert Ponce, aka Flimflam, was supposed to be on a rest shift in the quarters he shared with seven other criminals detained on Padrugoi. He was not in his quarters and when Ranjit subtly pressed the minds of the four present in the room, his whereabouts were unknown. This was generally the case. Bert, as his cellmates called him, only slept there. They had long since learned not to “know” how he spent his waking hours. Officially, so long as he reported for his work shift, his off-duty activities were not monitored. The double wristband would not permit a detainee access to sensitive areas on Padrugoi. Ranjit then found out where he could find the main Station bookie, also an offender.

Kibon had established an “office” in a supplies closet, cleared of its authorized equipment. The furnishings, such as they were, provided the bookie with a desk that was more like a nineteenth-century clerk’s stand (to fit in the cramped space), a stool, and pencil files neatly arranged in cubbyholes on the walls. With the use of a long-armed gripper tool, Kibon could reach any file without moving from his stool. An old-style thin screen was mounted on the wall and there was an equally obsolete pressure keyplate on the desk.