Pegasus in Space (31 page)

“Thank you, Commander de Aruya.”

“No doubt Ms. Leitao would prefer a different mode of return,” said Johnny, his eyes glinting maliciously as he looked up from his doodling.

“Hmmm. You may be right, General,” the admiral agreed.

Secretary Abubakar clicked his tongue in annoyance; Taddesse tightened her crossed arms.

“All this excitement,” Georg Fraga began. “Leitao’s rarely out of the office, you know. She may not even be aware of—” With a helpless gesture of one hand, he broke off in chagrin.

“The strides made in the parapsychic sciences?” asked the general.

“How long does it take a man to suit up and retrieve a parcel?” asked Taddesse irritably, drumming her fingers on her upper arm. “That is, of course, if there is one.”

“Actually, Pete holds the record for getting into his EMU,” Johnny said in a pleasant, conversational voice. “I find it takes me five minutes to be properly suited up and go through the checks. And I’m supposed to be fast.”

Johnny, are you doing us any good by needling her so?
Peter asked, getting more and more peeved.

She may be the CFO but plain mathematics will require her to employ your kinetic ability as opposed to the fuel bill they’d have to pay if they don’t. She’ll have no possible argument now that Abubakar is on our side
.

Is he?

Yes
.

What have we proved today? That I can fling five kilos to the Moon?

Yes, but also that you did it, Peter. And with no strain at all
.

How can you determine that?
Peter demanded, since he wasn’t hooked up to the usual sensors.

We know exactly what use you made of the generator gestalt, Pete, that’s how
.

Peter had no further argument. So Johnny had trapped him into this display, at this time, and before such skeptics. The admiral could have, but Peter didn’t think he had. Certainly the people from the Space Authority hadn’t been party to this, not with the way that CFO felt about him. Fraga looked sick with worry. For Ms. Leitao? What had made her faint like that? He’d been careful not to so much as think in her direction.

“Admiral Coetzer?” Colonel Watari’s deep voice roused Peter from his unhappy deliberation. “Sergeant Gendro has found a package at the
bollard. The waybill reads number 51161708 from Chipsink, shipping date’s today and time of shipment is marked as 0845. Show ’em the tag, Sergeant.”

The First Base window altered to display the details.

“I think that proves delivery,” Lance said, looking slightly smug.

“Bring the package in on the double, Sergeant,” the colonel said in sharp command.

“We can sure use those chips right away,” Major Cyberal said, very pleased.

“Chips are the least of our worries,” Watari muttered.

The Secretary turned to Peter, approval and relief apparent in his expression. “The question now is, how much mass can you send at a time, Mr. Reidinger?”

“I don’t know, Mr. Secretary,” Peter said honestly, and heard the derisive noise that came from the direction of Alicia Taddesse. “I’d be willing to try to increase mass.”

“Increasing slowly over a period,” Johnny put in, “with me assisting.”

“Frankly, we have never been able to ascertain what Pete’s limit is, Mr. Secretary,” Lance added, sitting forward.

“You said it was all mathematical,” Taddesse said, almost snarling at Johnny.

“So it is,” Johnny replied, unruffled. “And, with Pete’s permission, we’ll keep pushing. By the same token, it’s inadvisable to overload or overuse his telekinetic ability.”

You said you’d be helping me
.

So I will, but we both know that
I
have a limit. It’s you we’re selling to save the projects
.

“Until, or if, we discover a finite limit,” Johnny continued, “we should be able to come to a useful working schedule. We already have some guidelines,” and Peter knew that Johnny was attempting to convince him more than anyone else in the room, “in terms of generator power used and calories burned.”

“The general and I have finite limits to the mass
we
can teleport and how far,” Lance put in. “I, too, advise that we proceed slowly. John gets as much as one thousand tons from surface to Station at a go. What’re you up to, Johnny? Eight loads a day?”

“One an hour,” Johnny said. “Of course, we can do two or more small
to medium lots within the half hour but I watch my calorie burn carefully and don’t exceed what I know my daily limit is.”

“I can ’port small masses—100-pound limit—but not as far as the general can,” Lance went on. “Anything under ten kilos, or 100 k telekinetic pressure, say, as I had to during Bangladesh flood conditions. I can handle that sort of work for upward of several hours. But then I have to rest for a similar period.”

“And Mr. Reidinger?” asked the Secretary, clearly impressed by the details from the two older men.

Grinning, Lance spread his hands wide, a gesture that Johnny Greene repeated.

“We found out something new today, ladies and gentlemen,” Johnny said. “Let’s proceed cautiously with this valuable natural resource.”

“Using what as the primary guideline, the use of the generators or the caloric expenditure?” asked the Secretary.

“Calories mean energy expended. That’s the most important criterion.”

“What are your favorite foods, Mr. Reidinger?” the Secretary asked with a mischievous smile.

As Peter blinked in surprise at such an unexpected question, Johnny roared with laughter, Lance guffawed, and the admiral grinned broadly, leaning back in his chair in relief. Fraga’s smile was polite but Alicia Taddesse did not seem to appreciate the levity at all.

“Once we establish a safe caloric expenditure for you, Mr. Reidinger,” Georg Fraga said, taking out his notepad, “can we present you with a delivery schedule for matériel most urgently needed at First Base?”

I think you should handle this, Pete
, Johnny said, stretching his legs out under the table.

Peter hid his annoyance at Johnny Greene’s manipulation of this meeting, even if it was to his advantage and that of parapsychics in general. He did feel great satisfaction at proving his ability to doubters like Alicia Taddesse. The Secretary appeared to be open-minded. What position did Georg Fraga hold in the Space Authority? Senior what?

Pete turned his mind from that to how to set fair parameters. Johnny had made him test his own abilities. And, to be truthful, it had been relatively easy. Especially knowing that he had already managed to reach First Base from Adelaide. How much mass could he shift if he
really
tried? Obviously, he should set parameters now. What sort? Johnny was always
trying to get him to reach out a little farther. How far would please him? Peter wondered. For that matter, how far would please Peter Reidinger? Today had opened up possibilities he had only tentatively dreamed about. And possibilities that he oughtn’t to dream about—yet. The qualifier startled him.

He brought his attention back to the matter under discussion.

“I need to have comparison figures on what—” Alicia Taddesse began, glaring briefly at Fraga, as she pulled her notepad toward her “—Mr. Reidinger’s services will cost SA as opposed to traditional fuel.”

“Ms. Taddesse, I am already under contract to SA,” Peter replied gently.

Ha, she forgot that
, Johnny said.

“My salary on a per diem basis is a quarter of the cost of a pair of
full,
” and Peter could not resist lightly emphasizing that adjective, “fuel tanks and most freighters require ten for a round-trip.”

She spoke figures into her notepad. A hint of a smile played on her lips.

“Less urgent supplies would still have to be freighted,” Peter said, steepling his fingers in an attitude he thought would make him appear more assured than he was.

You’re doing fine, Pete
, Johnny said, a grin in his voice though he kept his expression politely attentive.

“I would like to physically visit the Moon, if that’s all right with you, Colonel Watari,” Peter said, and smiled at Lance Baden. “I would need good telepad sites.”

“Telepad?” the colonel repeated.

“Like the X in a circle that designates a helicopter landing site. I doubt you want me to place shipments at the third bollard from the right in the parking lot.”

“I see no problem with establishing formal delivery locations,” the Secretary said, smiling as he looked over at Johnny Greene. “If you’d care to accompany Mr. Reidinger, General? I know you haven’t made it to First Base yet.” When Johnny nodded, Abubakar went on. “I think we can provide you both with a personal inspection of the facilities, don’t you, Colonel?”

“Yes, yes, of course, Secretary,” Watari replied. “We’ve a Rest and Reenlistment flight going out tomorrow, in fact. It’s returning with some urgently
needed personnel but there’s certainly room for Mr. Reidinger and General Greene.”

“I appreciate that, Secretary.”

“That would take over a week,” Alicia Taddesse said, not quite protesting, “even if they only stayed a day to site these, ah, telepads.”

“A necessary condition,” Peter said. “I must also remind you that my current contractual schedule is three weeks onstation, one week on the surface.”

Taddesse shot upright in her chair, startled. “But—!”

Peter managed an indolent Greenesque shrug. “That schedule is in my current contract,” Peter said in a tone that brooked no argument. She stared at him, all hint of the smile wiped from her expression. “The Eastern Parapsychic Center would strenuously resist any amendment at this point in time.”

“I find that unacceptable,” she began.

“I do not,” said the admiral firmly. “We are lucky to have Mr. Reidinger at any time, Ms. Taddesse. His presence on the Station was the reason Monday’s fiasco did not turn into a major disaster.”

“My contract does include emergency assistance, Ms. Taddesse,” Peter added politely.

Taddesse turned to the admiral. “Aren’t there emergency crews on standby at all times?”

“Of course there are, Ms. Taddesse,” the admiral replied. “Rescue gigs are on patrol in every quadrant and they quickly moved into position, as you can see on the visuals when you review the tapes. Mr. Reidinger and General Greene expedited rescue and containment, reducing damage to personnel, freighter, and cargo.”

“Excuse me, sir,” Colonel Watari said. “Engineering would be very grateful if Mr. Reidinger could send us Waybill number AF22BH47503.”

“What’s the mass?” Peter asked, wanting to show Taddesse that he was cooperative.

Watari looked offscreen. “One hundred and five kilos.”

Ask if that figure includes its packaging, Pete
. Johnny said.

“That includes packaging, Pete,” Lance said from First Base.

Great minds
, Johnny said with a chuckle.

“How
much
of that mass is packaging?” asked Peter aloud.

“You’d need the packaging,” Watari protested.

“Packaging’s forty kilos,” Lance said, and Watari gave him a sharp look for his response. “The volume is 100 by 40 by 60. Centimeters.”

“Those selenoseismic sensors can’t be bounced about,” the colonel objected.

“They won’t be,” Lance said, with a sideways, almost condescending glance at the base commander. “I can receive, Pete, if you think I’m needed.”

He doesn’t think he is
, Johnny said so emphatically that Peter ignored the growing doubt in Taddesse’s attitude. He trusted Lance implicitly. He trusted Johnny, too, but not the general’s propensity to get him into situations before he realized he was involved.

“We’ll have to locate the item first,” Peter said, trying to sound very businesslike.

“Of course,” the admiral said, and turned to give orders to his yeoman and Commander Chatham, who had anticipated the request and were busy at their notepads.

“I’m not so sure about removing the packaging,” Taddesse said, regarding Peter with narrowed eyes.

“I don’t drop things,” Peter said, irritated by her continued skepticism. “If I am to be effective as a courier, the less unessential mass I have to teleport, the better, and the more I can shift per working hour.”

That’s right, Pete, don’t let her bully you. She needs you far more than we need her
. Johnny imagined himself a rooster, crowing on a rooftop at sunrise.

“A good point,” the Secretary said, tactfully overriding that concern.

“I’ve located the shipment, sir,” Commander Chatham said.

“If you’ll put up the coordinates, Commander,” Johnny said, losing his pose of indolence. “Naturally it’s the one in that temporary net.” He gave a long-suffering sigh. “But at least it’s in the priority section.”

“That poses a problem, General?” Taddesse said, and it was obvious that she hoped there was one.

“Do you want it in here?” Johnny asked.

“You wouldn’t want it in here, General,” Commander Chatham said. “Not with all that packing.”

“Oh, I stripped off unessentials,” Johnny said, and leaned back in his chair.

Of all in the room only Peter was aware that the general had employed a light gestalt. He couldn’t resist grinning.

The three sensors, in lightweight, transparent bubble pack, appeared on the end of the conference table where Mai Leitao had been seated. Taddesse gasped, one hand going to her throat. Colonel Watari jerked out of his chair on First Base.

“Careful with those!” Colonel Watari cried, one hand extended in an unconscious warding.

“I didn’t hear so much as a bump, Colonel,” Secretary Abubakar said soothingly.

“More like a swoosh as it slid into place,” Fraga added encouragingly.

“Do you enjoy playing hopscotch, General?” Taddesse said in an acid tone of voice.

“Only with those who can’t see the numbers on the paving, Ms. Taddesse,” Johnny said, showing her his teeth.

Whatever the CFO might have said, and her anger was palpable in her flushed cheeks and rapid breath, the Secretary held up his hand to forestall it. With a visible shake of her head, she subsided, staring at the montage of Padrugoi on the opposite wall.