Pegasus In Space Part 5

Sascha spared his brother a sympathetic look. "Her trial's nearly over. I doubt you'll have to."

"Appalling woman. Hates Hates us." And Boris meant Talents. us." And Boris meant Talents.

"She has reason," Sascha remarked candidly. "Of course, if, I were truly honest, I'd admit that I reciprocate her animosity with interest."

"I won't tell."

"You're all heart, bro," replied Sascha.

"So, give me some good news to go on with? I've five more of Ludmilla's white-coats to scan for the hearings tomorrow," Boris said with a heavy sigh. "Is Lance going to start training your young genius?"

"He had to settle affairs in Adelaide but Rhyssa and Peter are expecting him any day now."

The tribunal hearing the case of Padrugoi s.p.a.ce Station versus Ludmilla Barchenka for mutiny proceeded inexorably but with impeccable impartiality to a conclusion. The attempted hostage-taking, grievous bodily harm done several distinguished guests, and her threats against their lives were sufficient to have heavy penalties imposed on her. She was found guilty of high treason by the unanimous agreement of the tribunal that had included a Ukrainian judge and was duly sentenced to permanent house arrest in a small house outside Kiev. She wore the special double-banded wrist ID of a convicted criminal that restricted her to those premises. As an added precaution, she was surgically body-tagged with a detector that could not be removed, short of her demise. The completion bonus for the Padrugoi s.p.a.ce Station was sequestered and placed in a special account that would defray her costs and was budgeted to last a reasonable projection of her life expectancy. Visitors to her quarters were severely limited and those few who requested visits were scanned before and after. The pulverized remains of the plastic sculpture, which President Cimprich had presented to her, were found in the first week's refuse.

The trial of itself formed a judicial precedent, being the first action of the independent ent.i.ty, the Padrugoi s.p.a.ce Station, against an individual. Thus the entire world became aware of the legal independence of that ent.i.ty.

"Her biggest single mistake was in refusing to let us attend," Johnny said to Rhyssa and Peter two weeks later, after Barchenka started serving her lifelong sentence. They were seated in Rhyssa's second-floor office in the Henner mansion.

Johnny took a sip from his second cup of coffee and continued. "When I found out that Gordie's name had been struck off the invite list, and bearing in mind my other information, I decided Lance and I needed to meet. In his shielded quarters on the Station, of course. He actually organized," and he grinned wickedly, "our volunteers. When the ever-lovin' Ludmilla formally ended his conscription-she kept calling it a 'work contract'-she watched while he cleared his office and his computer system, not that he had left anything up on that that. Then she had her white-coats personally conduct him to the shuttle." Johnny chuckled. "He walked on and then walked off through the service hatch. His was the bright idea of utilizing the ventilation ducts. Had to pick people who could fit in them, too. In fact, he'd been eavesdropping on white-coat barrack conversations, trying to figure out what was going to happen. I'll give her this-she picked the most closemouthed b.a.s.t.a.r.ds she could find as platoon leaders. And I suspect they didn't know the whole nine yards beforehand."

Rhyssa slowly shook her head over Barchenka's tactics and how very close they had come to success.

Peter cleared his throat. "You don't know when Admiral Coetzer will let me see the s.p.a.ceship, do you?"

"It'll be a lot more interesting when it's nearer completion, Pete," Johnny replied. "Never fear, skeleteam! Dirk Coetzer is not one to forget his debts."

A polite knock sounded on Rhyssa's door.

"Come in, Sascha, Lance," she replied, adding a mental invitation, and the door opened for the visitors.

Sascha had a now-is-the-time smile on his face that he directed at Peter as he stepped forward to allow the lanky Lance Baden to enter behind him. The Australian Center chief gave a cheerful wave including all in the room but he, too, was eyeing his new student.

Not that I don't think I'll be learning more from you, Pete, than you will from me.

Peter had risen to his feet, a courtesy that Lance appreciated though he was in no way a formal person.

No need to be nervous, pal, Sascha said on a tight 'path to the boy. Sascha said on a tight 'path to the boy.

Don't tease, Rhyssa added, imaging her face with a severe frown. "Come in, sit down, and let's Rhyssa added, imaging her face with a severe frown. "Come in, sit down, and let's talk, talk, shall we?" she said aloud, setting the tone for the discussion of how to train a boy who was probably the most powerful telekinetic to be discovered anywhere on the planet. shall we?" she said aloud, setting the tone for the discussion of how to train a boy who was probably the most powerful telekinetic to be discovered anywhere on the planet.

Lance settled himself in one of the comfortable lounge chairs, crossing one long leg over the other and linking his fingers together, totally relaxed. Sascha took the other lounger and waved at Peter to seat himself.

"Now, I've a full month off from the Adelaide Center," Lance began, "so what I'd like to do, Pete, is walk you through exactly what you do do and see if we can develop any theories on gestalt so that others can boldly go." He glanced over at John Greene, who shrugged from where he was stretched out in the leather chair. and see if we can develop any theories on gestalt so that others can boldly go." He glanced over at John Greene, who shrugged from where he was stretched out in the leather chair.

"I won't be too much help, Lance," the general said. "I just learned to go with the flow and I can't tell you how I managed to emulate Pete here, except that somehow, I had to keep Dave from cracking his skull open on the edge of that swimming pool."

"Using the electricity from the sun beds for the gestalt?" Lance asked.

Johnny nodded. "I wanted him to move move over a meter away. He did." over a meter away. He did."

"And after that you were floating drones and s.p.a.ce shuttles to Padrugoi like so many pebbles skipping across the pond," Lance remarked dryly.

Again Johnny shrugged. "That's all I thought I was doing."

Lance looked questioningly at Peter.

"Sir, it is is sort of like skipping pebbles across the water," Peter said. sort of like skipping pebbles across the water," Peter said.

"Then how do you estimate just how much of a skip you have to take in gestalt from the generators?"

Peter opened both hands in a helpless gesture. He was trying to shrug his shoulders as John Greene did but only his right shoulder twitched in response to his wish. "Some things I touch with my mind just feel heavier than others. Like orange juice or plasteel. Just looking at some stuff even I can tell it must weigh tons."

"At the base in Florida ," Rhyssa put in, "the technician always had the gross weight figures of what Peter was to lift."

"That still requires some sort of calculation, doesn't it?" Lance added when Peter opened his hands in a gesture of continued dismay.

"Pete started off using the 4.5 kW generator we installed for him at Dorotea's," Rhyssa said. "And half the time now, he doesn't even need to access that."

"Very interesting," Lance said, nodding with the expression of someone who hasn't heard anything significant. "Did you use any auxiliary power during the Mutiny? For instance, when you heated up the b.u.t.ts of the white-coats' weapons?"

Peter shook his head, looking more and more concerned. Then suddenly his face brightened. "I did lean on the generators when I put a shield around the admiral. I didn't want anything to get through."

John Greene and Lance Baden made eye contact.

"I didn't feel any pulse," Johnny said.

"I felt yours, Pete, when you shorted out that woman's prompt screen," Lance said, grinning.

"He didn't, I did," Johnny Greene said.

"That was you, Johnny?" Rhyssa was surprised.

The general raised one languid hand. "Guilty. She was taking far too much credit."

"And all along, I thought it was you, Pete."

Now a very smug smile tugged at the boy's mouth and was echoed in his eyes. "No, I corrupted her disk."

"Ah, so that's why Grushkov thought you were totally innocent," Lance said, pretending much relief at getting the culpability straight.

Johnny nodded. "I wonder what would have happened if we had had allowed her to finish that speech." allowed her to finish that speech."

"I'm as glad we didn't, frankly," Lance said. "So, Pete-you don't mind being Pete, do you?"

"No, sir."

"When you were shielding the admiral, how did you make the weapons too hot to handle?"

"I just 'thought' them hot. But I didn't move them anywhere."

"Oh, I see. So it wasn't telekinesis," Lance remarked, one hand covering his mouth for a moment.

"Not really." Peter paused.

Rhyssa cleared her throat, Sascha ducked his head, and Johnny's eyes were brilliant with amus.e.m.e.nt.

"That's as well. Can you explain it to me?" asked Lance, leaning forward in his chair and resting his elbows on his knees, clasping his hands lightly together.

"Can you suggest something that doesn't have any ma.s.s, sir?"

"Pete," and Lance waved his hands, "enough of this 'sir' stuff. I know Dorotea is very keen on social graces, but I'm just another Talent, like Johnny here."

"Not at all like me, you wombat," Johnny said with considerable force in his voice despite his relaxed position.

"For which I am indeed grateful," Lance shot in an aside to him before he turned back to a startled Peter Reidinger. "You and me," and he waggled his finger back and forth between them, "are going to be working as close as mates, and you're to call me Lance? Right?"

"Right, ssss-Lance." Peter swallowed.

"Right! Now, I'm to suggest something that doesn't have-ma.s.s. Well, everything has ma.s.s, including orange juice. Do you employ gestalt to transfer grams?" Peter shook his head. "Kilograms?" and Peter began to nod, "and definitely dead tons? Right?"

"Right."

"Do you instinctively measure the volume of what you 'port?"

Peter considered this. "Well, I did look at the ma.s.s of drones and shuttles when I was doing them. I know know that something's dense by the feel of it." that something's dense by the feel of it."

"What has ma.s.s in this room that you'd need gestalt to move?"

Peter eyed the objects in Rhyssa's office and then, with a mischievous glint in his eye, pointed to Johnny Greene and promptly, those in the office heard a distant generator hum and the general, chair and all, was lifted off the floor.

"Hey, just wait an effing minute," Johnny said, his eyes round with surprise. He didn't move but his body tensed a moment before he obviously forced himself to relax. "Not even for you, Pete Reidinger," and he shook his index finger at the grinning boy, "will I be a display piece."

He and his chair were put back in place with not so much as a jar to Johnny's extended legs: the heels of his shoes fitting exactly back into the marks on Rhyssa's thick carpet.

Sascha, Rhyssa, and Lance were grinning at his indignant reaction.

"One of these days, my young friend," and the threat went unspecified. "Why didn't you pick on him?" Johnny continued, sitfing upright and pointing to Baden. "He outweighs me."

"He's my trainer," Peter replied with an impudent grin.

"That'll teach you, Johnny," Rhyssa said, having thoroughly enjoyed his discomfiture.

"I don't know about that," that," Johnny replied, losing all trace of petulance before indolently shooting the cuffs of his tunic and resettling himself in the lounge chair. Then he favored Peter with a genuine smile. "Just caught me unawares. I'll be very careful not to underestimate you again, young skeleteam." Johnny replied, losing all trace of petulance before indolently shooting the cuffs of his tunic and resettling himself in the lounge chair. Then he favored Peter with a genuine smile. "Just caught me unawares. I'll be very careful not to underestimate you again, young skeleteam."

"Which reminds me, Lance," Rhyssa said, putting her arms on her desk and leaning forward toward the Australian, "to tell you that Peter was fifteen just six weeks ago."

"I take due note, Rhyssa, that he is not a working Talent yet," Lance replied. "And with all kinetics and 'paths back on their jobs, I presume that you don't intend to use the skeleteam."

"Emphatically not. Now don't argue, Peter," she said to the boy, who was levitating out of his chair in protest. "Neither Sascha nor I would have condoned the use of your exceptional abilities under normal conditions. Now that we are definitely back on-line, we are morally obligated not to abuse your good nature and Talent in any way."

"But you're letting Tirla work," Peter began.

"Tirla is in residence," in residence," Sascha broke in, scowling fiercely at the boy, who recoiled from his expression, "with Lessud, Shria, and their family in a Long Island Residential Linear that is not remotely like Linear G in Jerhattan. She is definitely Sascha broke in, scowling fiercely at the boy, who recoiled from his expression, "with Lessud, Shria, and their family in a Long Island Residential Linear that is not remotely like Linear G in Jerhattan. She is definitely not not working," and Sascha strung out the last three syllables to emphasize the point. working," and Sascha strung out the last three syllables to emphasize the point.

"She took you and me shopping," Peter murmured.

"Tirla has never considered shopping shopping to be work," Rhyssa said, pathing tightly to Sascha, Stay to be work," Rhyssa said, pathing tightly to Sascha, Stay out of this. out of this.

Sascha grinned broadly as if in response to her comment. "She's putting in every other minute she's awake studying."

"I'd say she'll need to do more shopping for you, skeleteam," Johnny remarked, eyeing the bare leg of Peter's now too-short everyday trousers.

"I could do with some duds myself," Lance said. "You blokes ought to get your thermostats fixed. This city's b.l.o.o.d.y cold."

"It's spring," Rhyssa said in surprise.

"Not to my gooseb.u.mps it ain't. C'mon, sprout," Lance said, rising and nodding to Peter. "Now we got the ground rules laid out, we can have a good chinwag on the way to getting me some warmer stuff. Or should we call on this Tirla you mentioned?"

"She's studying hard," Sascha said firmly.

"With your permission, Rhyssa?"

"By all means, Lance. Begin as you mean to go on." Rhyssa waved her hand toward the door.

Lance indicated that Peter should precede him to the door.

"Sascha and I have some schedules we must go over," Rhyssa said, pulling some pencil files toward her. "Johnny, don't you have someplace you have to be now?"

"Well, if you put it that way, " and clipping his hand toward his right eye in an airy salute, General John Greene disappeared, the generators humming slightly to indicate how he had effected his withdrawal.

Peter gave a little sniff of disdain as he exited. Behind him, Lance c.o.c.ked an eyebrow at Rhyssa and Sascha and left.

"My private opinion," Sascha remarked to his chief, "is that Pete could probably 'port himself anywhere without gestalt."

"You're probably right," Rhyssa said with a sigh, and inserted the first file.

Halfway through the second week of his training time with Peter, Lance was interrupted by a telepathic touch.

Lance Baden? Carmen Stein. I have found her.

Found who? Lance was so intent on observing Peter doing a lift of a half ton of sc.r.a.p metal from a yard to a steel foundry that he couldn't for the moment recall what "her" Carmen Stein might have found. Lance was so intent on observing Peter doing a lift of a half ton of sc.r.a.p metal from a yard to a steel foundry that he couldn't for the moment recall what "her" Carmen Stein might have found.

The Bantam child.

I'm not usually this slow, Lance said, not willing to direct any attention away from the screen that was graphing Peter's use of power in gestalt. slow, Lance said, not willing to direct any attention away from the screen that was graphing Peter's use of power in gestalt. Who? Who?

The daughter of Tony and Nadezhda Bantam. You sent me a leather-bound journal, with a photograph of the three of them. The parents are dead. I have located the daughter.