Pegasus in Space (5 page)

“Not that I don’t want to be on the Space Station for the celebration of such a splendid human achievement,” Dave said, “but last night we all watched the tri-d of her showing Admiral Coetzer around as the new commander.”

“What? That tri-d fooled a hardened PR man like you? She
had
to do that,” Johnny said deprecatingly. “I was there …”

“As General Greene?” asked Dave.

“Well, not so she’d’ve noticed,” Johnny replied. “But there’s something about her geniality,” and he grinned back at Rhyssa and Dave, “that’s very false. As well as totally out of character. Pete, don’t help this ‘lift.’ I’ll be using the push-pull method. I’d rather save you for later, if we should just happen to need our ‘skeleteam.’ ” He took a deep breath, closing his eyes.

There was no sense of movement, although lights ran berserk patterns
around Johnny’s control panel. A metallic clank and a slight jar told the passengers that the drone had landed. Johnny swiveled, a finger across his lips for silence, sudden tension in every line of his body. A complicated rapping on the drone’s hull made him relax.

“Okay, kids, invitations front and center. ’Cuse me,” he added as he squeezed around Rhyssa to get to the hatch to unlock it. The panel swung open to a very narrow aisle between towering storage vats and crates.

“Sir? The way’s clear. The teams’re in place and you’ve got ten minutes,” said an anonymous voice as Johnny stepped out. He had to sidestep to let the others disembark in the cramped space. He held out his hand to Rhyssa. Slim as she was, she had to tuck in her tummy, grateful that her pregnancy wasn’t far enough along to impede her.

“Let’s go then,” Johnny said.

What teams, Johnny?

Ssshhh
.

The general led them a circuitous way through the high-piled stores to a lift door. Where a simple pass card would ordinarily be inserted, a much bulkier unit was welded in place.

“Taking no chances,” Dave murmured.

“None,” Johnny said definitively and carefully inserted his invitation card.

“Accepted,” said a mechanical voice, and the checkpoint spewed the card back out. “There are four persons to be carded.”

“It can count, too?” Rhyssa said, stepping up and inserting hers.

“Made it easier to keep track of bodies in and out,” Johnny said cryptically.

Only when all four invitations had been verified did the doors of the lift slide apart.

“Don’t put ’em away,” Johnny advised as he punched the uppermost button. “We’ve got to go through three more security checks before we get where we want to go.”

Johnny?
The voice was a loud whisper that both Peter and Rhyssa recognized as Madlyn Luvaro’s.
Is that you?

Who else were you expecting?

I don’t want to answer that
. Madlyn’s mental tone held a definite nervous edge.

Peter and Rhyssa, and Dave, are with me
. Johnny grimaced at the way he’d inadvertantly added Dave as a seeming afterthought.
Who else did we manage to keep on board?

Everyone you asked
, Madlyn replied, the relief obvious in her voice.

Any ideas as to what’s going down?

None
, and her mental tone was as frantic as it was apologetic.

Don’t worry. We’re here
, Johnny reassured her.

The lift stopped and its door opened. Johnny gestured for the others to get out as fast as possible. At that it nearly caught Dave’s left foot, it snapped shut so fast. Johnny gestured a turn down the next T-junction, urging speed. Rhyssa tried to estimate how long the lift ride had been but couldn’t. What seemed most important was that the bleak halls were vacant of traffic. They were not however without a certain pervasive odor of air recycled with the unmistakable taints of overcrowded and under-washed humanity. She’d heard that eight men or women shared each inadequate cubicle. Rhyssa eyed the halls and functional doors that looked as if they led into dormitories.

“And none of the masses are permitted to join the festivities?” Rhyssa asked, as they reached the next lift column.

“You got it in one,” Johnny said, slipping his card in the slot and motioning the others to be quick. “Of course, most of those are empty since Barchenka started shipping the grunts downside once she had no further use for their bods. The offies are on the lowest levels and kept there with double wristbands that allow no access elsewhere unless they’re working under guard. None of them’ll be seen today.”

Again the lift doors didn’t open until all four cards had been cleared. John Greene checked his wristwatch, humming under his breath as he nodded his head to count the seconds.

“Time’s going to be tight,” he said as he barreled out of the lift, turning left.

This upper hall was wider, and the doors farther apart, indicating possibly better accommodations.

“Not really so,” Johnny remarked, picking up on Rhyssa’s public thoughts. “This is the level we moved the Talents out of.” He gestured upward with his thumb. “At least they have the privacy shielding, and space, which Barchenka begrudged us.” He turned a corner abruptly, pointed to the lift at the end, and started to jog. “Third checkpoint.”

Peter glided past them and was already slotting in his card when they reached him.

“Air’s better up here,” Dave remarked as they were taken upward again.

“Better be,” Johnny said, and the lift opened into another hall, painted an AirForce blue. Only one door sported the security unit. Johnny held up his hand. “We’ll be emerging in the rest-room area. Pretend you’ve just been and go if you need to.”

While his card was being processed, he straightened his tunic, brushed imaginary fluff from one sleeve, angled his soft hat more comfortably on his head, and then strode out into the corridor, looking neither right nor left. Their destination lay in the large chamber where people were standing in groups, chatting brightly to each other as people do when passing time. No eyes seemed turned in their direction as they discreetly filed in. Rhyssa made a show of smoothing Peter’s new tunic at the back and then turned to put her arm through Dave’s before they sauntered in.

I’ll go hobnob with the service contingent, Rhyssa
, Johnny told her.
Your seats are row H, 98, 99, 100. The hospitality suite is not far from them. Your seats should have reserved signs on them. Barchenka’s more nearsighted than she’ll admit so I doubt she’ll recognize you from the stage. Catchya later
. And Johnny Greene moved obliquely left, slipping in among the uniforms.

Their timing had been excellent. Rhyssa barely had time to look around the foyer, which featured wall photomurals of various stages of Padrugoi’s construction taken from space, when she became aware of activity in the corridor they had just vacated. A squad of Station police in white dress tunics filed out of the rear door and began moving the invited guests toward the far end. There the huge folding doors were sliding open. A tiny audible click heralded an imminent broadcast, delivered in a slightly accented contralto voice.

“Distinguished guests, ladies and gentlemen, please display your invitations for inspection and proceed into the auditorium.”

A security check here, too, huh?
Johnny said from wherever he was.
And it looks like the official Lighting-up will be exactly on
the
contractual hour
, he added with a snide chuckle.

Slowly, the crowd entered what was designated on the Space Station plans as a mall for tourists and residents. Along the outer skin of the Station, transparent panels of one of the special alloys that had been developed
for the purpose allowed a stunning view of the stars. Dark bulks were discernible, some of them in orbit around the Station. Peter’s eyes widened, then he visibly relaxed as his other senses identified the dark objects to him.

Why can’t we see them?
he asked.

Barchenka has to officially turn on the lights. That’s part of the ceremony
, Rhyssa said.

They moved steadily forward to the wider space at the back of the arranged seating, where people were beginning to angle toward side aisles and their reserved places. There was no middle aisle.

Peter was looking all about him, gasping a little as he recognized the faces of well-known world leaders, all splendidly dressed for the occasion. While outwardly he was the epitome of patience, he kept up a running telepathic commentary on the notables.

I never thought I’d be so close to
her.
D’ya see all those jewels, Rhyssa? And there’s the triple world medalist in track. He did the 5,000 meter, the 10,000, and the 10,000 relay
. Peter especially envied runners.

They displayed their tickets to a hard-faced, white-coated usher who was diligently checking every card. She directed them to the right-hand aisle. And down to row H. The first three seats bore “reserved” cards. A large male usher hurried forward from the front to validate the tickets again, nodded, and directed them to take their seats. In the next few minutes they had to get up several times to allow others to pass.

Careful, Pete. You’re floating
, Rhyssa said, and casually pressed his arm to settle him more firmly in the seat.

All this up-ing and down-ing
, Peter muttered, disgruntled, because those making their way to seats beyond him obscured his view out the windows.
I can’t wait until the lights come on and I can really
see.

At least we’re far enough to one side so that the stage doesn’t obscure your view
, Rhyssa said in an encouraging voice.

Peter sat very straight, though she could hear the rumble of his discontent, for what seemed like an intolerably long wait. Actually, the audience was in a hurry to be seated and very shortly she felt the air of intense anticipation in the boy.

“Those ushers are military,” Dave murmured in her ear, smiling at her as if he had said something innocuous.

Rhyssa gave a look at the ones in front, facing the audience. The stance was unmistakable as a “parade rest”—hands clasped behind their backs, legs slightly apart.

Johnny, where did she conscript her ushers?
Rhyssa asked in a diffident tone.

Where d’you think? Moscow. She’s got many connections downside and all over that part of old Russia. But I knew about
them.
Sent many of’em up myself so we had a chance to check ’em out unofficially
, Johnny replied.
They’re not the ones we worry about
. They’re
visible. Anyhow, all of my guests have got in safely. Lance Baden and Gordon Havers are among’em, though I thought someone might spot Lance and challenge him. And
, Rhyssa could hear his smug satisfaction,
the others are properly dispersed
.

She was about to quiz him on “what others?” when a wide door opened beyond her. She caught a glimpse of another large chamber, tables set along the outside and covered with trays of food. There seemed to be rather a lot of very big men and women, dressed in white waiters’ jackets.

Are they indeed
, said Johnny, catching her startled reaction.
Good to know. Knew I was wise to bring your sharp eyes along, Rhyssa. Oh, and incidentally, Pete, there’s power on tap all over this level
.

Peter turned to look at Rhyssa, eyes puzzled.

What’s going on, Johnny?
Rhyssa asked crisply.

I honestly don’t have a clue, yet
.

“Hey, they’re starting,” Dave said, pointing to other panels sliding open, where the wide steps to the stage were situated.

Space Station Construction Manager Ludmilla Barchenka led the procession, wearing a severe uniform of space-blue with a chestful of decorations from her grateful motherland, soft spacer’s beret crammed on her large head. For once her expression was not sour: she had an air of triumph about her. Some facet of that emotion alerted Rhyssa.

I’ve never seen her this pleased before, Johnny. She
is
up to something
.

Can you tell what?

Not as long as she wears that metal skullcap
.

Yeah
, and Johnny sounded disgusted.

Admiral Coetzer, in the black uniform of his new responsibility, followed her, leading others of his staff, each paired with one of Ludmilla’s outgoing executives.

At least they’re wearing different uniforms
, Johnny added.

Can’t they get on with it!
Peter said impatiently as the seating on the stage filled with the honored guests.

As the stage access door closed and the last person sat down, Peter emitted another gusty sigh.

Ludmilla Barchenka rose, nodded abruptly to Admiral Coetzer, and they both went to the table placed to one side of the lectern. An aide rushed to pull off the velvet covering and exposed the gleaming metallic switch, atop a pedestal.

The admiral smiled. Barchenka didn’t.

“This is what you are here to see,” she said in her accented and guttural voice.

She grasped the control, held it up for all to see, and then plunged the old-fashioned switch to the far side. Immediately, lights so brilliant that they momentarily dazzled the viewers came up outside and Peter wasn’t the only one to gasp in amazement. The great upper wheel of the Station, a connected polygon where moorings and airlocks were located, was agleam with lights. Massive arrays illuminated the hull of the spaceship that would be the first of many scheduled to leave the Station on colonial missions. The size of it dwarfed even the great wheel.

Peter Reidinger seemed to back away from the vision. Rhyssa saw tears in his eyes and the wishful expression on his mobile face. When his chest did not rise, she elbowed him and he took a deep breath.

Easy, love
, she added, her mental touch gentling his emotional response to the sight.
You got here, to the Space Station, didn’t you? You’ve come such a long way in a short period of time
.

Startled, Peter glanced quickly at her.
You don’t mean I could go on her, do you?
He raised his hand in the direction of the spaceship.