Pegasus in Space (47 page)

Peter now remembered the odd jerks of the muscles on his right hand. The hand was doing nothing right now, relaxed on the tabletop.

They did three more light ’portations in the next two hours. Johnny was separating a larger mass when the conference room comm beeped.

“Yes, sir,” Johnny answered without much courtesy. “Oh,” and his face brightened. “Took them long enough to notice.” He pressed the speaker button and the admiral’s query was audible to Peter.

“How many have you sent? How’s Pete?”

“Four.” Johnny answered the first question.

“I’m fine, Admiral,” Peter replied for himself.

“Do you need any calories?” A faint hint of amusement colored the admiral’s voice.

“Not yet.”

“I had Barney order in some fruit and savories for you.” Then the connection was broken.

Peter could not stifle his groan. Did everyone on the Station know exactly what he was supposed to eat? He saw the muscles on the top of his left hand begin to jump. As soon as he could, he wanted to ask Ceara about
that!
He didn’t want any physical problems cropping up right now to postpone his analysis of the use-energy printout data.

“Time, kid,” Johnny said and Peter obediently “saw” the mass ready to ’port and dispatched it.

“Now, I’ll have some fruit,” he said.

A
t nine
A.M.
, at the end of his shift, he ’pathed to Rhyssa, who would now be in her office.
Rhyssa?

Peter! Where are you?

Onstation, earning my keep. Is everyone all right down there?

Of course
, and her mental tone implied that nothing ever happened “down there” that he should worry about.
But I wasn’t notified
.

No one was, Rhyssa. Not even the admiral
.

You said you were earning your keep? When did you get back to
Padrugoi? Why haven’t you contacted Madlyn? She said you weren’t to be back onstation for another two days from the last report she had
.

You know how devious Johnny can be
.

Indeed!

We’re still
not
here, which is why we didn’t contact Madlyn. Only Dirk
.

She paused.
Well, I suppose that’s advisable with all that’s happening. Did he bring you up to date? Barchenka may be implicated as well as that wretched Shimaz …
Peter felt her mental revulsion for the man. He had never forgotten the way the man had leered at Rhyssa that day in her office.
And Flimflam. I can’t believe they’re able to pull off such antics when they’re supposed to be so closely watched!

Me neither!
Peter tried to suppress the rancor he felt.

Peter!
Rhyssa, catching it, sounded alarmed and critical.

Then she went on more briskly.
We also need to talk about that longdistance call you made me
.

Look, Barney’s bringing in our order and I’m starved
, he said to change the subject. He didn’t want to talk about that now. Maybe he could fob Rhyssa off until he had really good news to impart.
When I’ve finished eating, I’m going to bed, tucked in safely by the good general
.

Peter!
There was now concern in her tone.

I need to eat, Rhyssa, and I need to sleep. I’m real tired. Catchya later, as Johnny would say
. He managed to imbue his mental tone with lighthearted amusement to reassure Rhyssa. He really didn’t want to lose her good opinion of him. In fact, he was a bit surprised by what he’d said to her.

Rhyssa wasn’t naïve. Surely she accepted the fact that Barchenka and Shimaz would try to revenge themselves on him and the general. That Flimflam would not have meekly accepted his sentence; that it was in his nature to do all he could to evade restrictions set on him and seek to get back in any way he could at those who had been at all responsible for the curtailment of his preferred lifestyle.

“What’d you say to Rhyssa?” Johnny asked him when Barney had left them alone.

“Why?”

“She says you’ve got cynical.”

Peter shrugged. “I guess you do when you’ve been the object of a … what did you call it, a fatwa?”

Johnny gave him a long look. “Yeah, I guess.”

Peter noticed his left hand muscles jumping. “When are we going to be officially back?”

“About the time someone notices the corrals are being mysteriously emptied.”

R
anjit!
Cass said urgently, not wanting to use her wristcom in the midst of the crowd of men and women on their way to and from the level’s mess hall.
Flimflam just went into Kibon’s
.

Hearya! He goes several times a day
.

Not every hour on the hour like he’s done today. Besides, I caught a glimpse of someone else in there with him and Kibon. He never allows two in that room
.

Right! Gotcha. Can Suzanne spin off to tail the other guy when he comes out?

The LEO Commissioner had insisted that the girls work paired, considering the fear Cass had reported emanating from Flimflam. If the man was cornered, there was no telling what he could do. Cass was strong and well trained in self-defense but she was glad of Suzanne’s company. She was able to get a good night’s sleep, too, with Suzanne there to stand a watch on their quarry.

Can do. Wanted to warn you
.

Keep on Flimflam’s track
, the LEO lieutenant replied.

Like epoxy!

I’m sending Chet down to your level. Just in case. Lemme know if you can suss out who’s the third man at Kibon’s
.

Abruptly Suzanne swore an oath, hauled Cass to the side of the corridor, and bent to fix her boot, loudly cursing the cheap junk that was given out as shoes. Cass bent over, pretending to help, able to cock her head sideways to keep Kibon’s door in sight. She could “hear” Flimflam’s dominant emotions: his mental tone was shrill, like someone close to breaking, and colored with righteous indignation and anger. She could sense Kibon’s stillness, as if, by his silence, he would be unnoticed. The third man was in as much control of himself as Kibon, emanating condescension and amusement. Suddenly that evaporated and she felt a stab of pain, Flimflam’s, then Kibon’s flash of fury. The door wrenched open and a swarthy-skinned man of medium height, wearing the sort of anonymous coverall
that would permit him to blend into any group onstation, ducked out, and in one stride was part of the corridor traffic.

Got him
, Suzanne said.
One real satisfied bastard
.

I’ll check Flimflam
.

Kibon had not even had time to get off his stool to close the door when Cass barged in. Flimflam was pressed against the far wall, dislodging pencil files as he began to slide to the floor, his eyes bulging out with pained incredulity. Foremost in his mind was the betrayal; after all he’d done for them …

Flimflam’s down
, Cass told Suzanne and Ranjit and, managing to get the door shut before anyone in the hall was aware of what was happening, repeated the Mayday on her wristcom.

“Back on your stool, Kibon,” she ordered the bookie as she reached into a hip pocket for a shock-shot. Crouching down by Flimflam, she sprayed the emergency aid into his arm with one hand and with the other, examined the wound. “You’ll live. He missed anything vital. What’re you wearing? Deflected the blade. He was aiming to gut you.”

A knife would have shown up on any one of the security arches, to keep offies from smuggling weapons into this level. Padrugoi might have to allow the working public to walk freely on the main levels, but that didn’t mean precautions were not taken whenever possible.

Cass, Ranjit, he’s heading up
, said Suzanne.
I think he’s freighter personnel. They got a certain way of walking when they’re back in gravity. You know what I mean?

A stir in the hallway outside and Kibon’s door opened again. Kibon groaned at the security and medical team that had materialized there.

“More won’t fit,” he muttered. “Get him outta here.”

“No sweat, Kibon,” Cass said so sweetly that Kibon blinked in surprise. Beckoning to the first man to grab Flimflam’s shoulders, she hoisted his feet and they hauled him out into a corridor occupied only by the emergency team and the backs of those hurrying from the vicinity.

Flimflam’s dimming consciousness was colored by shock, betrayal, fury, blooming pain, and a determination to “make them pay.”

“He’ll live,” said the medic after a cursory examination, and he waved the team to proceed to the nearest elevator.

Where are you, Suzie? Need help?

I got Ranjit and Chet with me
.

Then I’ll stay with my quarry. He’s angry enough to think something useful. Maybe I’ll just get him thinking that perhaps confession would be very good for his soul
.

He has one? Just get him to talk out loud, Cass. It doesn’t count in court if he just
thinks
it!

Tell me about it
.

C
ommander Ottey, Shandin Ross, and two other security officers Cass didn’t know were already in the infirmary two levels up. All the way there, while Cass pumped the injured man with thoughts of “confess,” “make ’em pay,” “get ’em good,” and similar provocative mental directions, she managed to stay out of his direct line of vision as much as possible. Flimflam’s thoughts continued to revolve about retaliation and how much pain he was in. That was all he voiced.

“Something for the pain. I’m hurt. I’m in pain. Gimme something for the pain!”

“We did. It’ll kick in in a minute,” one of the medics snapped to shut him up.

Has he said anything useful, Cass?
Shandin asked. He and the others also stayed out of Flimflam’s immediate vision.

He’s full of revenge
. Then she caught the reason.
But he’s too damned scared of ‘them’ even to think names or faces
.

Maybe he doesn’t know any
, Shandin Ross suggested.

That’s always possible. But today he’s been in and out of Kibon’s like a yoyo. So I figure he was expecting to meet someone there. And he did. Has Ranjit caught up with his assailant yet?

Closing. Man doesn’t realize he’s being followed either. Arrogant bastard
. Shandin raised an eyebrow in distaste, then grinned.
Got him! In possession of a very sharp plastic, bloody spike
.

“Damn!” the medic examining Flimflam exclaimed, reaching for a stimulant.

“He’s dying,” Cass said telepathically as well as out loud. “Tell them to watch that spike, Shandin. It must have been poisoned. The wound was superficial.”

Medics closed in on Flimflam, trying to resuscitate him. Cass stepped back, leaning against the wall, trying to catch something useful from the
man’s receding consciousness. The need for revenge remained dominant until he was totally mindless.

“Cass? Cass!” Shandin caught her shock at the death and reached her before her knees gave way.

“I hate it. I hate it when minds wink out like that,” she whispered, grateful for the lieutenant’s support.

“I need help,” Shandin began, looking around for a medic.

“I’m here with it,” and Cass tried to focus on the red-haired woman pressing a hypospray against her arm. The woman grinned up at Cass. “Let’s get you out of here.”

Cass felt the surge of sympathy and understanding from her as Shandin carried her out of that cubicle and into the adjacent one where she was lifted onto the narrow bed.

Ceara’s an empath, Cass
, Shandin said. He, too, was broadcasting reassurance.

That’s my job
, Cass replied.

Not right now, it isn’t
, Shandin said as Ceara attached a monitor to Cass’s finger.

Cass agreed.

P
eter did not feel the least remorse when he and Johnny were informed that Flimflam had died of a poisoned knife thrust. He had more important matters on his mind. He was struggling with his analysis of the data he needed from the reams of use-energy printouts, both for himself and Johnny. He wasn’t nearly as tired as he had made out after the second day of scheduled ’ports to First Base. But he used that excuse. He wasn’t exactly sure what data he hoped to extract and gave up after two hours. There were two jobs he needed to do; the analysis was only one. Equally important in his mind was re-creating the “South America” discoloration with which he would fool Johnny into ’porting all the way to First Base.

Let’s rid him of his self-imposed limitations, Peter muttered to himself as he accessed the draw program on his worktop. Gradually he worked up the sketch, with the corner of the partition window and the control worktop and the cabinets beneath. He got the color tones as well, including the opaque smokiness of the window. The general image resembled facilities that Johnny had probably ’ported to many times, save for
that distinctive splotch and the angle of window and worktop. Making the visual wasn’t anywhere near as easy as he thought it would be. He could hold a lightpen but he didn’t have the fine muscle control needed for minute changes, although he seemed to have finally got the hang of using the device. Possibly he was inspired by this means to the end he desired. He grinned. He stared at the visual, adjusting proportions, adjusting colors, adjusting until his eyes watered. The image had to be perfect so Johnny would see it distinctly enough to ’port to it. After all, there was only one spot in this solar system that was identical: in the observatory office on First Base.

Yawning several times in succession made him check the time and he found that he’d spent nearly three hours on the project. But he was reasonably satisfied with it. He wished he had a visual but the notion of using “South America” had come
after
he’d been to the astronomy office. He’d check his imaging again in the morning. The muscle between his last two fingers on his right hand was twitching again. It didn’t hurt. Of course, it couldn’t. He had no feeling in his hands, even if the skin was jumping about from some sort of a tic. Maybe he’d better see a medic. Maybe he could see Ceara. He could call her to his room. No, he couldn’t call a woman to his cabin even if she was a qualified doctor. Seeing her in a professional capacity was permissible, wasn’t it? He yawned again. And put himself to bed.