Pegasus In Space Part 1

PEGASUS IN s.p.a.cE.

ANNE McCAFFREY.

ACKN0WLEDMENTS.

Foremost on my list of thank-yous for this novel is Dr. Steven Beard of the UK Astronomy Technological Center, Royal Observatory in Edinburgh. I asked for help and he gave me such a large measure of valuable information that I had more than enough for this part of the Pegasus universe. Not only is he a marvelous punster but also a dedicated researcher, leading me to many previously unexplored paths of stargazing and suggesting useful Web sites where my basic reference texts were out of date. He patiently went over drafts and consequently the relevant characters are well informed. I would like to thank Elizabeth Kerner, author of Song in the Silence, Song in the Silence, for introducing me to Dr. Beard. for introducing me to Dr. Beard.

Dr. Brian Kane of the Lowell Observatory Web site also responded to my specific queries, for which I am indeed grateful.

Mark Finkelstein, D.O., F.A.O.C.R., of the Du Pont Hospital for Children, dropped by Dragonhold for tea one afternoon with his friend, Michael Zeik, offered his a.s.sistance, and found me taking him up on his kind offer.

Dr. Donald L. Henninger of J.S.C. NASA was somewhat surprised by my phone call asking him to confirm some specific information on CELSS--Controlled Environment Life Support Systems. He gave me what I needed to know and for that I am indebted to him. I hadn't realized so much had changed from what we s-f writers used to use in hydroponic gardens on s.p.a.ceships and stations.

Books on Bangladesh, its geography, culture, and language, published in Australia, were accessed from Amazon.com and Amazon.co.uk. The names will be different from those current in many American-printed atlases, especially as the major rivers change their beds and names to whatever the local people choose. I am deeply indebted for the help of Dr. S. Farid Ahmed from Dhaka, currently Registrar in the Borders Hospital, for his a.s.sistance; he has prevented me from making several glaring misrepresentations.

My son, Todd McCaffrey, came forward magnificently with suggestions and solutions for the Limo (Lunar Insertion Moon Orbit) scenes and Jenna Scott McCaffrey read with her copy editor's eyes on the text. So have my daughter, Georgeanne Kennedy, and Richard Woods, Lea Day, and Mary Jean Holmes.

I am happy to acknowledge the continued a.s.sistance and support of Sh.e.l.ly Shapiro, my editor at Del Rey, Diane Pearson, my editor at Transworld-Corgi, and Martha Trachtenberg, the copy editor who joggled my short-term memory about names and relationships.

One other point: since the genesis of the Pegasus books (and indeed the Rowan/Tower and Hive series) is the short story I wrote back in 1959, I have been constrained to keep to the people and places mentioned so long ago. Forty years later, we understand science and ourselves more clearly and in greater detail. I have kept to the original premises and places in "The Lady in the Tower" while moving along with such advances as possible and extrapolating as seemed logical.

A man's reach should exceed his grasp Or what's a heaven for?

ROBERT BROWNING (1855).

1.

As Peter Reidinger was teleporting in gestalt with the huge Jerhattan Power Station to bring the kinetics down from Padrugoi s.p.a.ce Station to Dhaka, an exhausted group of men and women were trying to reach the shelter of the nearest shomiti. With the bundles they had s.n.a.t.c.hed from their homes before escaping the breached levees, they staggered to higher ground along the muddy banks of the Jamuna River. They had to scramble to bridge the gaps in the levee mounds that, in places, were sliding into the Jamuna's torrent. Despite Herculean efforts by the government and the local administrators in the Rajshahi Division, the levees had not supplied the longed-for protection to those living along its banks.

Anger at the "authorities" consumed Zahid ldris Miah and sustained him as he slogged at the head of the group from his bari bari, flashing the long-life light ahead of him. In the gloom of this monsoon, the tool at least kept them from slithering into places where the Jamuna had chewed ravines into the levee bank in its rush to the sea. He devoutly mumbled prayers to Iswah that this tool was truly a "long-life" torch. He half expected it to fade out now, when it was most needed, like so many other items that came to his small bari bari south of Sirajganj as Rajshahi Division tried to-what was the south of Sirajganj as Rajshahi Division tried to-what was the ingraji ingraji word?-"upgrade" him and the other jute farmers. word?-"upgrade" him and the other jute farmers.

They should have kept a close watch on the levees in this storm. should have kept a close watch on the levees in this storm. They They should have worked more diligently to reinforce the collecting lakes along the Jamuna River. should have worked more diligently to reinforce the collecting lakes along the Jamuna River. They They had promised to do so, to keep more of Bangladesh from sliding beneath the Bay. He vaguely knew that a great new engineering process that had kept some city in Italia from drowning had been adapted to keep the Bay of Bengal from inundating the coastal regions near the mouth of the Padma. Much land had been lost along the seacoast in spite of the efforts of many, very gifted engineers. The once inland city of Khulna was now protected by the great Dike, which had been erected three decades ago. Barisal City was also ringed south and east by the Ocean Dikes, invented by yet other westerners who had been determined to keep their land from drowning. Those islands that had once dotted the Bay of Bengal: Bhola, Hatiya, and, Sondwip-where the Meghna River flowed into the Bay-had been inundated and the people saved only by the ma.s.sive efforts of the World Relief Organization. had promised to do so, to keep more of Bangladesh from sliding beneath the Bay. He vaguely knew that a great new engineering process that had kept some city in Italia from drowning had been adapted to keep the Bay of Bengal from inundating the coastal regions near the mouth of the Padma. Much land had been lost along the seacoast in spite of the efforts of many, very gifted engineers. The once inland city of Khulna was now protected by the great Dike, which had been erected three decades ago. Barisal City was also ringed south and east by the Ocean Dikes, invented by yet other westerners who had been determined to keep their land from drowning. Those islands that had once dotted the Bay of Bengal: Bhola, Hatiya, and, Sondwip-where the Meghna River flowed into the Bay-had been inundated and the people saved only by the ma.s.sive efforts of the World Relief Organization.

He had heard that the islands of Kutubdia and Maheskhali, near c.o.x's Bazar were also gone, and the tip of Chittagong. As Zahid had never been farther from his bari bari than Sirjganj, these places might as well have been in Great India or Meriki. What had happened to those who had helped before? Had they, like so many others, deserted the Bangla in their hours of need? He wiped the sudden spurt of winddriven rain from his face. Were they tired of rescuing poor Bangladeshi? He wasn't surprised; who cared, but Iswah, what happened to the poor? The wind smacked at his lean, work-honed frame again and he slid on the mud, the light briefly aimed to his right. than Sirjganj, these places might as well have been in Great India or Meriki. What had happened to those who had helped before? Had they, like so many others, deserted the Bangla in their hours of need? He wiped the sudden spurt of winddriven rain from his face. Were they tired of rescuing poor Bangladeshi? He wasn't surprised; who cared, but Iswah, what happened to the poor? The wind smacked at his lean, work-honed frame again and he slid on the mud, the light briefly aimed to his right.

Was that debris now bobbing along on the swift flowing current the plants he had struggled so to keep watered during the dry season? There was always too much of everything-Iswah be praised, he added quickly-when it wasn't needed. The Jamuna had irrigated his fields but this was overdoing it.

"Where be those who aid? Curses be on their names and every generation of them!" Zahid roared above the wind, waving about both hands, making the torchlight stab about the darkness.

Behind him, Jamila wailed, berating her husband. "Do not wave our light about so! How am I seeing where to put my feet? If it falls from your hand, how will we be seeing where dry land is?" She had hiked up her sari, its sodden, muddy hem banging against her thin calves. He had already reprimanded her several times for her immodesty.

"Hush, woman. Rafiq and Rahim have torches. Watch your sari that you do not tempt Ayud Bondha. " To emphasize his displeasure in her demeanor, he lengthened his stride, sweeping the ray of light in front of him to see where he was going. This disgruntled him more, for it might appear to her that he was heeding her complaint.

"How far to go now, Zahid?" Salma, Ayud Bondha's young wife, cried in ragged gasps. She had to shout above the wind noise. She was many months pregnant with her firstborn, and clumsy. Ayud was half carrying her, both of them slipping about in the thick mud.

Zahid didn't like Salma. As a young girl, she had been chosen from her village to go to the school to learn to read and write and do sums. Because of that, she did not efface herself, as a proper woman should, speaking out often in the shomiti shomiti with unseemly disregard of custom. Ayud Bondha always indulged her, smiling and doing nothing to discipline her, as a husband should. with unseemly disregard of custom. Ayud Bondha always indulged her, smiling and doing nothing to discipline her, as a husband should.

"We will be seeing shomiti shomiti lights soon Zahid said and sent his beam ahead of them, squinting to see any glimmer from their destination. lights soon Zahid said and sent his beam ahead of them, squinting to see any glimmer from their destination. Shomiti Shomiti were still built on heavy concrete pillars, thanks be to Iswah, so their shelter remained above the flooded lands. There would be light cylinders-also of the long-life variety-hung on the comers of the covered veranda to show refugees their way through the day's darkness, wind, and rain. were still built on heavy concrete pillars, thanks be to Iswah, so their shelter remained above the flooded lands. There would be light cylinders-also of the long-life variety-hung on the comers of the covered veranda to show refugees their way through the day's darkness, wind, and rain.

"Aiyeee!" screamed his wife, sliding her length in the mud, face down. The fall both amused and irritated Zahid. Sputtering curses, he caught hold of her arm with his free hand, the arc of the light he held going every which way again. Ayud Bondha grasped her other flailing arm and, between them, they managed to lift her out of the mud. Solicitously, Salma used the long end of her already sodden sari to clear Jamila's mud-smeared face while she gasped for breath and spat out the grit in her mouth.

"Aiyeee!" Jamila screamed again, wildly pointing at the rushing water. "Something in the river!" She grabbed her husband's hand with her muddied ones and steadied the broad beam of the flashlight on what she had glimpsed when his beam was erratically flashing about.

"Nothing alive," Zahid retorted, trying to wrest control of the torch from her.

"I see something, too," Salma said, and Zahid snarled under his breath. That was all he needed. Her to side with the thin stick who was his wife.

"There is something," Ayud agreed, and by then the rest of their group had caught up to them.

Rafiq and Rahim added their lights to his reluctant one and even he had to admit that there was something, a small child perhaps, clinging to the fork of two branches. Zahid was stunned. A tree of such size had to have floated down all the way from the Terai region. Even as he watched, he saw movement, a wide-open mouth in a white face, probably calling for help. Suddenly, the current of the Jamuna whimsically pushed the tree closer to the levee.

"Joldi!" cried Salma, pushing at Zahid. "Sahajyo! "Sahajyo! Quick! Help!" Quick! Help!"

"Ki kore? How?" Zahid demanded, one hand gesturing his helplessness while, with the other, he stubbornly followed the slowly spinning ma.s.s with his light. How?" Zahid demanded, one hand gesturing his helplessness while, with the other, he stubbornly followed the slowly spinning ma.s.s with his light.

"Dig your feet in!" Rahim cried, leaping forward. "We make a chain. Grab my hand, Rafiq. You, too, Jabbar, Khaliq. Make a chain. Zahid, light us."

Rahim barely got a firm grip on Rafiq's hand before Zahid pushed Jabbar and Khaliq into place, making himself the end of the human rescue line. He was as heavy as Rahim and could be the anchor despite the slippery mud. His wife wailed and moaned that surely they would not be in time, that they would all fall in the water and drown, and then what would become of them? Then Salma grabbed the light from Zahid's hand as he was pulled forward, closer to the edge of the levee. Frantically he dug his heels into the slippery soil, determined to stop his forward movement. Khaliq also dug his feet in. Then Rahim, living up to his name of "mighty soldier," caught hold of the nearest branch of the tree fork and hauled it closer. He stretched the human chain to its full length as he made his first grab at the child. It let out a shriek that could be heard above the wind's screech and lay limp across the bole. Rahim made a second grab and got a firm grip on one leg.

"Tana!" cried Rahim, struggling to shift his balance back to the levee. cried Rahim, struggling to shift his balance back to the levee.

Pull the others did, Jabbar going down on his knees in the mud to keep from sliding further. As Rahim teetered backward, Khaliq dropped Jabbar's hand and rushed to grab Rahim's shirt to draw him and his burden to the relative safety of the higher bank. Salma focused the light on the tree that, its pa.s.senger now safely ash.o.r.e, was caught by an eddy and swirled away.

"Light, woman!" Zahid shouted, angrily s.n.a.t.c.hing it back and shining it on the child.

Rain slanted down on the unconscious face and the open mouth. Suddenly Rahim jerked the tattered shirt down, glancing warily at Jamila who had bent to examine the human flotsam.

"A girl child," she said. Then she saw and touched the limp left arm that dangled at an unnatural angle. "Broken."

"Give Iswah thanks for preserving the child," murmured Zahid.

"Did I do that?" asked Rahim, panting from his exertions and reaching out to the injured limb.

"Iswah knows," Jamila said with pious absolution. "Young bones heal easily."

"You were holding the other arm, Rahim Ali," Salina said, flinging a sodden braid over her shoulder.

"How could you see?" Zahid demanded.

"I was holding the light," she replied, but now Ayud Bondha tapped her shoulder in tacit reprimand. I did see," she said defensively. Then she fumbled in the bundle she had over her shoulder and brought out a smoothed stick, wood oiled by long usage in cooking. "Jamila, this for a splint. Tie with this." Dragging the end of a piece of fabric out, she gnawed a cut in the hem and then, with a strong gesture, tore off the end. She handed the strip and the utensil to Jamila.

With the experienced deftness of those accustomed to dealing with minor injuries, Jamila and Rahim straightened the thin arm against the smooth wooden stirrer and deftly wound the makeshift bandage around it. The fabric was already sodden from the persistent rain but it would hold the tiny limb to the splint.

"Jolki! Joldi! Be quick," Zahid said, irritated by the holdup. He flashed his light toward the Jamuna and everyone could see that the water had risen against the levee in the short time since the child had been rescued. Be quick," Zahid said, irritated by the holdup. He flashed his light toward the Jamuna and everyone could see that the water had risen against the levee in the short time since the child had been rescued.

Jamila cradled the child in one arm and, with a toss of her head at the scowling Zahid, started off again. Zahid, imperiously waving his light, took a few running steps to take up his forward position.

"Ami neta," he said in a fierce tone. "I am leading." he said in a fierce tone. "I am leading."

They had gone no more than fifteen paces when he saw the bobbing of lights coming toward them.

"Are you all right?" someone shouted.

"HA!" Zahid yelled back, cupping his free hand to his mouth.

"We were seeing you stop," the someone said as half a dozen men came into the beam of his torch.

"We are all right but our women are tired," Zahid called back. He did not wish to explain that, at great peril to their lives, they had rescued only a girl child. The saving of a boy would have been worth bragging about.

"We have saved an injured child," Salina shouted.

Then the contingent from the shomiti shomiti converged on them and a.s.sisted the weary travelers the rest of the way up the slight but muddy incline to the welcome shelter of the community center. The greedy waters of the Jamuna were still below the levee on this stretch, not yet washing at the st.u.r.dy columns that held up the building. converged on them and a.s.sisted the weary travelers the rest of the way up the slight but muddy incline to the welcome shelter of the community center. The greedy waters of the Jamuna were still below the levee on this stretch, not yet washing at the st.u.r.dy columns that held up the building.

Salma had gone to school in this shomiti shomiti so she called out to one of the Teachers in the largest room where a huge pot was simmering on a brazier. so she called out to one of the Teachers in the largest room where a huge pot was simmering on a brazier.

"Rupoti Apa," she cried, and the woman looked up from stirring the rice mixture. "We found a child."

"A girl child," Zahid said.

"We are all precious to Iswah," the Shikkhika said, giving Zahid a mildly reproving glance as she rose and came forward to see the limp figure Jamila held out.

"With a broken arm. Is the daktar daktar here?" Jamila asked. here?" Jamila asked.

Shaking her head, Rupoti Apa peered at the limp body, noting the splinted arm, the many scratches and bruises, and a skin wrinkled from long immersion. "He is not here. The child is not too badly hurt. Bring her and yourself, Salma, to the fire and be warm. Jamila, take bowls. We have rice and fish to eat. Hot and good." She waved toward the stack of rough pottery bowls on the far side of the brazier.

When Salma had eased herself to a sitting position by the fire, Jamila transferred the child to her and set about serving the piled bowls to those from her bari. bari.

Salma was glad of the excuse of the child and a position by the fire. When Rupoti Apa handed her a bowl of the rice, she made a cradle of her damp sari and put the child in it while she fingered the rice into her mouth. It was hot and burned a little as it went down but the heat was welcome. So were the pieces of mach mach she was delighted to find liberally sprinkled in the rice. She tried not to eat too quickly but hunger was on her. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Ayud, Rafiq, and Jabbar in the corridor, eating as quickly as she. It was a generous portion and filled the empty places in her. she was delighted to find liberally sprinkled in the rice. She tried not to eat too quickly but hunger was on her. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Ayud, Rafiq, and Jabbar in the corridor, eating as quickly as she. It was a generous portion and filled the empty places in her.

She was dozing, chin on her chest, when the child-older than a babe or it would not have survived in the flood-finally roused. Its thin pained squall roused others in the room. Before Salma could orient herself and remember why she had a child in her lap, Rupoti Apa lifted the little girl out of her improvised cradle.

"Daktar Mohammed is here and will tend her. Do you know whose child she is?"

Salma shook her head and went back to sleep, not willing to relinquish her place near the fire, now embers of red charcoal. She never saw the child again.

When the telekinetics that Peter Reidinger had carefully 'ported to Zia Airport got to work, they managed to stem and control the flood crest before the Buriganga River could inundate the sprawling city of Dhaka.

They could not repair all the levees that had collapsed along the four main rivers, which shifted their beds as often as they changed their names, Ganges/Padma and Brahmaputra/Jamuna, along with the tributaries they acquired on their journey down to the Bay of Bengal. Those who lived in Dhaka called what flowed past them the Buriganga River. From the east came the less ferocious Meghna and Sitalakhya rivers. It was feat enough at first to reinforce the levees protecting a city of twelve million souls, spread out in the apex of the river already enlarged by its tributaries. Lance Baden set up his headquarters in a quickly evacuated building in Motijheel, the financial district of the city. There he directed the operations, quickly organizing and sorting out the problems of the most affected divisions: Rajshahi, Dhaka itself, Barisal, and finally Chittagong, which had its own special problems stemming from Kaptai Lake. Whenever district engineers could make contact with Lance's personnel, he directed his telekinetics to send stopgap materiel to be rammed into place.

He brought Bangladeshi workers in from the drier divisions, Sylhet, the upper Rajshahi, and Khulna. His kinetics managed to seal the worst levee collapses until reinforcing materials could be set into place along the Buriganga. A special team was making certain that the raging Jamuna would not undermine the Great Jamuna Bridge. That renowned structure was a source of great pride to all Bangladeshi, built as it was by their labor and their hard-earned takas takas.

Four days later, when the weather satellites reported the abatement of the monsoon, additional relief personnel and supplies were airlifted in and the work of mopping up began. Despite urgent entreaties from their section bosses on the Padrugoi Station, and outright threats and rantings from Commissioner Ludmilla Barchenka, the team did not rush back.

The injured were cared for, the homeless were sheltered, the hungry fed, and the bedraggled clothed. The most needy towns were supplied with food, fresh water, and seed. Fortunately, the extremely fertile soil of Bangladesh could produce two crops a year-with any luck-so there might still be a harvest later in the year. While the weather had certainly been unlucky around the world, it was late October and perhaps the monsoons were over.

Among the homeless, the orphans were a.s.signed to the various facilities, examined, registered, and, depending on their ages and abilities, given such community tasks in the center as their age suggested. The child who had been rescued from the Jamuna, was sent to an orphanage just south of Bogra. The local industry of hat-making made use of the nimble fingers of the older children and their employment was carefully monitored by a telepath, Bahadur Ali Shan. He came as often as he could, when the press of duties permitted, but, as he had never seen any abuse or a shadow of it in the minds of the industrious and generally happy children, he did not worry too much when the floods enlarged the orphanage complement considerably The orphan girl from a small shomiti shomiti outside of Sirdjganj was judged to be four or five years of age. The broken arm that was mentioned on the tag carefully written by Shikkhika Rupoti at the outside of Sirdjganj was judged to be four or five years of age. The broken arm that was mentioned on the tag carefully written by Shikkhika Rupoti at the shomiti shomiti did not appear on the X ray taken at the Bogra medical center during the routine examination. A greenstick fracture of the ulna was visible but the injury was so well healed that the splint and bandage were superfluous. If anyone noticed that the little girl kept stroking her left arm over the site of the old break, they did not mention it. The tag stated that the child was unknown to anyone in the did not appear on the X ray taken at the Bogra medical center during the routine examination. A greenstick fracture of the ulna was visible but the injury was so well healed that the splint and bandage were superfluous. If anyone noticed that the little girl kept stroking her left arm over the site of the old break, they did not mention it. The tag stated that the child was unknown to anyone in the shomiti. shomiti. The examining physician found her uncommonly well grown and well nourished, but noted that she did not speak. The examining physician found her uncommonly well grown and well nourished, but noted that she did not speak.

Possibly this is due to the trauma of her recent experience in the flood-waters. But attempts should be made to encourage her to speak. She hasn't got a cleft palate, she's not speech-impaired, and there is no physiological reason why she is incapable of speech, read the medical report. read the medical report.

The nuns at the orphanage gently tried to wheedle her name out of her but she only regarded them with wide eyes. A child of four or five should remember its own name.

"They're a deep blue, you know," Sister Epiphania said. "Not brown."

"Oh dear," said Sister Kathleen. A child of mixed races by no means shocked her for all they had both thought her Bangladeshi. She peered at the delicate features-so many Bangladeshi children were beautiful. Some subtlety of feature and physique made her feel that, whatever she was, the child was not half-caste. "Well, she's a child of G.o.d. We'd better give her a name."

Sister 'Phania considered this, laying a callused forefinger athwart her lips in thought. "Zada? That means lucky."

"You're a.s.suming she is Bengali?"

"Well, yes. The report says that the bandage around her arm had been torn from a sari. And look at her black hair!"

Sister Kathleen held a strand out, before tucking it back over the child's shoulder. "What about Jamuna as a name? She was plucked from it, after all."

"Not at all," 'Phania said, pressing her lips together.

"Kalinda? Because she came from the river?"

"Hmm." That didn't seem appropriate to 'Phania either.

"If we go to a floral name, remember we already have two Lilas. You wouldn't like Kusa for gra.s.s? After all," and Kathleen pointed to the little patch of ground, neatly fenced off with twigs, which had absorbed the little girl once she had finished helping to weed the kitchen garden, "she's clearly interested in growing things. Maybe a farmer's child?"

"Ruchi?" 'Phania suggested, "since that means taste?"

"Hmm." Kathleen deliberated a moment, then shook her head.

"Rudra? That, I think, is for the rudrakha plant."

"I want something that's her," her," and Kathleen smoothed the girl's hair back and smiled with success. "Shaila," she said emphatically. "It means small mountain." and Kathleen smoothed the girl's hair back and smiled with success. "Shaila," she said emphatically. "It means small mountain."

Kathleen squatted down beside the newly named child. "Say Shaila, dear. That's your name." The deep blue eyes regarded her calmly. "Let me hear you say Shaila, dear?"

"Shy ... Ia." The light voice stumbled.

"Shaila," Kathleen repeated the syllables. "You need a name. You are Shaila."