Pegasus in Space (57 page)

“Now …” Johnny rubbed his hands together. “What have we got for today? You get a special demonstration, Lance. We got some heavy stuff,” and he asked for the list on one of the programmable screens. “And number one is
heavy
. Pete, you take that.”

“Hey, they’re both on First Base,” Lance said, sitting up straight.

“Yeah, ain’t they?” Johnny replied, grinning at him.

“You,” and Lance pointed at the general, “can make First Base?

“Yup, with a little help from my friend here.”

“Remember that bollard on the parking field?” Peter asked, thinking that this was an appropriate time to mention the Gadriel circuits.

No. Not yet
, said Johnny very tightly. He went on out loud. “It was ‘South America’ in the astronomy office for me,” Johnny said, enjoying Lance’s look of awe. “Pete conned me into sending ten kilos to the astronomy office at First Base. South America,” he added in voice command and Peter’s carefully detailed image came up on the screen.

“Well, I never!” Lance began. “How much can you shift?” he asked, professionally intrigued.

“I don’t want to make him run before he can walk,” Peter replied, mimicking Johnny’s drawl.

“Wish I could get the hang of the gestalt,” Lance said ruefully, shaking his head.

“You’re not the only one,” Johnny remarked, cocking his head significantly at Peter. “Still we won’t hold that against you, will we, Pete?”

Abruptly the main screen lit up with the head and shoulders of a very worried Dirk Coetzer. His eyes took in the three men in the office.

“Good, you’re all there.” He took a deep breath as he turned to Peter. “I know this may be totally impossible, Pete, but we’ve just had a Mayday from Marspolar. They’ve had an equipment failure. The humidifier’s conked out. Has been for days and now other sensitive equipment
is showing the effects. So are their tempers. If we don’t get replacement parts to them in the next two days, there’ll be major system failures.” He paused.

“You know, Dirk,” Johnny drawled, “the three of us might just be able to make it that far. If the spares aren’t heavy.”

Are you out of your tree?
Lance exclaimed.

No, just out on a limb
.

“We’ll need the clearest visuals of Marspolar you have, Dirk,” Peter said. “Do you have replacement parts on hand up here?”

“In the priority cargo net, ready for the supply ship due to go next week. Next week’ll arrive too late,” he said grimly. He looked to one side. “Thanks, Nicola. Waybill AF 44MPS8276.”

“I copy,” Peter said.

“I fetch,” Johnny said and the vacuum-sealed units appeared on the table in the lounge of the office suite, covering it.

Lance whistled.

I’m getting very good at this
, Johnny said. “Doesn’t mass much, Pete.”

This time, General Greene, you do the ’port with me!

You bet!

“Where’s my visual, Dirk?”

“There’s not much space available, Pete. The dome is cramped.”

“Surely they have a table to eat off of,” Peter said testily. His mind was humming as he anticipated the demand on his abilities.

“Yes, but I don’t have any visual of the catering area.”

“A workstation?” Peter was getting anxious. It was inconceivable that there wasn’t anything available to “see.”“Surely there’ve been tapes of their accommodations, their work spaces, the hydroponics unit?”

“The
Amazon
craft they came in would be empty,” Johnny suggested, and called up a visual of the interior of the Mars ship. “Enough space there. I got the VIP tour when it was up on the gantries.”

“Might be a tight fit,” Peter said.

“Plenty of floor space right now.” Johnny added dimensions of the main cabin at the base of the visual.

“They went to Mars in that?” Lance was incredulous, his eyes flicking around the much larger office. “No wonder they don’t have spares.”

“Used parachute drones to land supplies. Tedious work.” Johnny shot Peter a look.

“We’ll give our best shot, Dirk,” Peter said, physically and clumsily moving to the chair at the engineering station. He didn’t want to waste an ounce of mental energy before this crucial long ’port. Thank God for Tomas Gadriel. The circuits would make the difference.

I’m with you all the way, Pete
, Johnny said, skidding his chair over to Peter’s and gripping his arm. Lance pushed in on the other side, taking Peter’s free hand in a firm clasp.

The generators sang the most beautiful C major chord Peter had ever heard.

Peter got “hold” of the net.

Take the biggest breath you can, kid
.

Out of the corner of his eye, Peter saw Johnny’s chest rising. He inhaled, thinking firmly of the net and its lifesaving units sitting in the center of the
Amazon’s
cabin space. As he ’ported, he felt Johnny’s wide-open mind pushing with him, and a second reinforcement—nowhere near as strong but steady. Lance! He might not be able to initiate the gestalt but he could sure give it a shove, his grasp warm and firm on Peter’s.

Then, like running into a wall in the dark, Peter felt a psychic stop. God! Had he missed? Had he reached his limit somewhere out there between Earth and Mars? Would men and women die because he was overconfident?

Breathe, kid
.

Peter felt the elbow in his ribs. Opening his eyes he exhaled, sparkles of imminent anoxia dancing before his eyes. He let himself collapse in the chair.

“Have you done it yet?” Dirk asked anxiously, his eyes dark with concern. Someone loomed beside him on the screen. “Shandin said the generators went off the gauge.”

“We can’t be certain, Dirk,” Johnny said, panting. “But we sure did give it a damned good try, the three of us …” He grinned at Lance.
Tone-deaf he may be, but he’s an asset. We’ll tell him how and why later
. “Knew you’d be a help. Tell Captain Vartry to look in their ship. Only space we knew wouldn’t be occupied.”

“Yes, of course, the ship would be a logical telepad.” Dirk Coetzer took a deep breath, his eyes unfocusing briefly.

“Now don’t get any ideas, Dirk,” Johnny cautioned him, quickly raising one hand in restraint.

“No, no, of course not,” he said, but there was just that little curl of his mouth that suggested he was not above thinking ahead. “There’s a communications lag, you know.”

“I know,” Johnny said. “It’s only thirty-seven million miles from here. Take exactly 198.6 seconds—3 minutes and 18.6 seconds.”

“That long?” Peter said, desperately wanting it all to have happened simultaneously.

“And to come back,” Johnny said with admirable sangfroid.

“Drink this,” Lance said, putting a glass of orange juice in front of Peter, who was leaning limply back in his chair, and fresh coffee in front of Johnny.

Do you realize what we just did?
Peter asked.

We shipped a package all the way to Mars, that’s what we just did
, Johnny replied.

We hope
, Peter said with a gulp.
We also just merged our minds
.

We did
WHAT? Johnny leaned forward so quickly that he nearly knocked the cup off the surface.

Lance stared at Peter, his mouth dropping open.

I felt you
, and Peter pointed at the General,
and then you
, his finger went to Lance,
come in to help me push. We were all in on that one! Oh, we’ve talked together over distance, but we’ve never
combined
to ’port anything. This, my friends, is a major breakthrough!
With that declaration, Peter lifted his glass and toasted them both.

“But,
if
you did,” Coetzer went on, unaware of that telepathic exchange.

“If we did,” Johnny said, winking at Peter and Lance, “there’d be a new contract. And there would be a new organization for you to deal with.”

“What?” The admiral didn’t quite absorb that.

Johnny!
Peter protested.

“Let’s just bide our time,” Johnny said smoothly. “It ain’t over ’til the fat lady sings. And we sure want to hear her.”

In his office, Dirk was fiddling with a pencil file, turning it over and over in one hand, glancing to his left.

Johnny sipped his coffee. Peter drank his juice. Then, resorting to physical means, he walked himself to the serving alcove and found apples and carrots. He clumped back to his station, aware of Lance watching him. He wished he were a little more graceful but that would come. He
hadn’t quite the muscular strength in his thighs to sit smoothly and flopped down.

Johnny doodled.

Lance tapped his fingers.

Dirk Coetzer kept running the file through his fingers.

The comm bleeped.

Everyone jumped.

“They got the message,” Shandin’s voice said. “Vartry’s going out to the ship.”

Johnny’s doodles got wilder.

Lance went to the head.

The tension in the office was thick enough to cut.

Peter finished an apple and thought seriously about a carrot. He looked at the records for generator use. He hadn’t had the pads on so he didn’t know how many calories he had burned in that ’port. He wished now that he had since that data would be necessary, he fervently hoped, in the future.

Dirk was now swinging back and forth in his chair, looking anywhere but into the screen and at the three telekinetics. He rubbed his face.

Peter rubbed his face, prickly with short bristles of beard that he was finally growing.

More time elapsed.

We could ’port some of these
, Peter suggested, wanting to do something. There were some downside ’ports he felt up to doing.

You’re a glutton for punishment
, Johnny said.

Are you okay, Johnny?
Peter reached out to close his fingers about his friend’s arm.

Well, I did take a deep breath, but if there was another piece of that pie?

I’ll get it
, Lance said, rising.

“You’re eating, aren’t you, Pete?” Dirk asked.

THEY GOT IT!
Madlyn Luvaro’s loud voice was never more welcome.
DASH SAYS CAPTAIN VARTRY HAS IT! IT’S THERE! YOU DID IT! YOU DID IT!

Johnny shouted the message out loud.

Dirk Coetzer leaped from his chair, arms flung out, face split with the joy of success. The next moment the screen showed him dancing about his office with Nicola as a startled partner.

Peter stared at the sight, for a moment weak with relief before exultation flooded his mind, soul, and body. Johnny was yodeling like a drunken cowboy, clapping his hands over his head, folding them into the victory sign. Lance was doing some sort of stamping dance around the room.

A pounding on the door reached Peter first. Dirk Coetzer was still in his office so who was at the door, wanting in so urgently? It took Peter a little effort to sense Ceara was on the other side of the door. He hurried across the room, making his legs stride, grateful that he could make such a physical effort because his mind was still reeling from that thrust. Not something they could do on a regular basis. Yet!

“Oh, Peter,” Ceara cried, throwing her arms about his neck. “I’ve the most wonderful news for you.”

Peter hugged her tightly, chuckling.

“What’s happened?” she exclaimed, suddenly aware of the antics in the room and on the screen. “I’ve never seen the admiral like that before.”

Peter whirled her about in his own excess of joy, their movements automatically activating the door-closure mechanism. This was
his
moment, to share with his closest friends.

“What’s happened? You’re glowing with it, Peter. Oh, please tell me.”

“Mars, Ceara!” Johnny said, crowing. “We ’ported to Mars!”

She clung to Peter’s arms for support as she assimilated the information. Her face mirrored the feelings that engulfed Peter. He’d thought ’porting to First Base, to prove to Taddesse, Leitao, and Abubakar that he
could
, had been triumphant.
This
was an even greater achievement—a merge of minds.

“Oh, it is indeed your day,” Ceara said, grinning like a fool at Johnny and Lance, and still in Peter’s arms. She took a deep breath and Peter could sense she had something important to tell him. “Finn and the commander just okayed the reversal.” She pointed to the side on which he carried the appliance. “You won’t need that anymore.”

He was stunned. Now it was Ceara who supported him.

Sometimes one could have too much joy, Peter thought, as she helped him back to his chair. Johnny thrust a slice of chocolate cake in his face. Lance held out orange juice in one hand and a shot glass of brandy in the other.

“Shock!” Ceara was saying. “He’s in shock.”

“He and the rest of us,” said Dirk Coetzer, swinging into the room, a
bottle of champagne in each hand, his face reflecting the morning’s glorious achievement. Shandin, Nicola, Madlyn, and Dash Sakai followed him into the office, all as euphoric as the admiral.

Let us not, in our euphoria, mention to Dirk anything about merging minds right now. And we have some good news for you, Lance, when we’ve a break in all this excitement
. “Now, Dirk,” Johnny went on, gesturing for Nicola to fill his glass to the brim,” this isn’t something we can do on an everyday basis.

“You delivered the goods where they were needed most,” and Dirk thumped Johnny on the back. Less vigorously but every bit as enthusiastically, he clapped Peter on the shoulder. “A toast, now everyone has a glass.” He held his up. “First the Moon, now Mars.” Everyone repeated the toast. “My God, I’m proud of you!”

“We’re not unpleased ourselves,” Johnny allowed, beaming as broadly as the admiral did.

In a flash, Peter reviewed what had begun as a simple wish to leave a hospital environment and be freed of his invalid restrictions. He had learned to kinetically manage a seemingly helpless body. He’d been able to send matériel and supplies to help complete Padrugoi. He had been at the Space Station’s Inauguration and prevented a mutiny. He had learned to hack the black and help build the
Andre Norton
. He had reached out to the Moon and made First Base. There he had found that Callisto was the place for him to stand to ’port colony ships to the distant stars. Amariyah’s gift had completed the healing process of his once useless body and he, who had never expected to be whole, had reached full manhood. How much further could he go now, with all the possibilities of the Gadriel tuning and mind-merge that he, Johnny, and Lance had discovered?