Pegasus In Space Part 11

I think she resurrected her garden.

So that's why she wanted everyone to go away. Before it was too late. But I didn't feel anything. Did you?

No. Did you know know that's what she was going to do? that's what she was going to do?

No, but it's what she did, isn't it? Plants would wilt real fast in Bangla weather. Here there'd be more of a lag. Wouldn't there?

Did you help her? Dorotea asked, trying to solve the puzzling resuscitation logically. Dorotea asked, trying to solve the puzzling resuscitation logically.

Me? No. I'm no help in a garden. Except for 'porting things. There was amus.e.m.e.nt in his voice. Did she fix everything? Did she fix everything?

As near as makes no never mind. "Thank you, Ted " she said out loud, patting the bemused man's arm placatingly. "Just one more psychic mystery. Let's make no more of it, shall we?" She smiled brightly at the head gardener. "And do put up that fence." Or maybe Or maybe, she added to herself in her innermost mind, almost ashamed of such a thought, that's what we shouldn't do so we'll find out what Amariyah does when her precious garden is threatened. Strange, I didn't feel any output. I must be getting old or something that's what we shouldn't do so we'll find out what Amariyah does when her precious garden is threatened. Strange, I didn't feel any output. I must be getting old or something.

Dorotea told Rhyssa as soon as she sensed that her chief was in the office.

Well, I had one ear open for her, so to speak, Rhyssa said. Rhyssa said. I perceived nothing. Though, come to think of it, later she was very tired but not at all as miserable as she had been when she gave that shriek. And that was very definitely telepathed. In extremis! I perceived nothing. Though, come to think of it, later she was very tired but not at all as miserable as she had been when she gave that shriek. And that was very definitely telepathed. In extremis!

Then there's my mother, Dorotea said, her eyes thoughtful. Dorotea said, her eyes thoughtful.

Your mother?

Yes, Ruth Horvath was a micro-Talent, you know, and never did know what she was doing because she did it on a subconscious level. When she tried tried to manipulate on the microcellular level, she couldn't. It was spontaneous or it wasn't. to manipulate on the microcellular level, she couldn't. It was spontaneous or it wasn't.

What could Amariyah have done? To restore plants plants to life? to life?

Probably just as elemental. Ah, well, I don't think we should interfere.

I agree completely, Rhyssa said firmly.

Ted's putting up the fencing today, Dorotea said.

Under the circ.u.mstances, is that right?

Morally right, Dorotea replied irritably. I'm not sure I could live through another such incident. That'd be carrying research a shade too far. I'm not sure I could live through another such incident. That'd be carrying research a shade too far.

Right. How are we going to explain it, though?

You mean the garden? I'm not going to try, Dorotea said.

Good idea! Especially since we can't. Have a good day! Rhyssa advised in a bright, overly cheerful mental tone. Rhyssa advised in a bright, overly cheerful mental tone.

When the boys came to apologize, and they were sincere to their toenails, Amariyah was just finis.h.i.+ng her breakfast. Dorotea "heard" the boys approaching: two were promising empaths and Scott a possible kinetic since he always made many more baskets than his peers. They had reached their decision to come independently. Drew Norton was the spokesperson, his eyes anguished as he led the trio into Dorotea's kitchen when she opened the door for them.

"Amariyah," Drew began, swallowing hard and gulping, "we're the ones you should beat up for smas.h.i.+ng your garden."

"Oh?" Her reply was noncommittal as she turned in her chair to face them. Scott Gates and Moddy Hemphill shot quick glances at her and then ducked their heads.

"We were messing with the basketball," Drew went on in a rush.

"And I kicked it, hard. I didn't aim aim at your garden, Amariyah. I really didn't," Scott said. at your garden, Amariyah. I really didn't," Scott said.

She gave Scott a long look. "I know you didn't. But my garden got messed up anyhow."

"Can you ever ever forgive us?" Drew asked, his face contorted. forgive us?" Drew asked, his face contorted.

"You didn't mean it," Amariyah said, accepting the apology and dismissing them with a nod of her head before she turned back to her hot toast. didn't mean it," Amariyah said, accepting the apology and dismissing them with a nod of her head before she turned back to her hot toast.

Dorotea caught her thoughts; the flash of watching Lila deliberately uprooting her plants, stamping on them, kicking them, making sure even the little fence was destroyed. Then the arrogant girl's attempt to keep Amariyah from reaching her garden, from trying to save at least some of it. A very fleeting glimpse of Amariyah, head down, b.u.t.ting Lila to the ground, sitting on her chest and grabbing hands full of hair to yank from the scalp. If Amariyah had any regrets, it was that taking vengeance on Lila delayed any possible chance of saving her plantings. But she'd been so enraged, she hadn't thought beyond giving Lila what punishment she could inflict, subconsciously knowing that the nuns might ignore the matter since "only plants" had been involved.

There was a long pause while the boys tried to figure out if she had, or had not, forgiven them their trespa.s.s. Dorotea cleared her throat.

"You are supposed to throw that ball, not kick it," Amariyah said, realizing that some response from her was required.

"Ted's going to put up a fence to prevent, ah, any more wild shots," Dorotea said.

Scott shot her a quick look. "We're not to shoot baskets for a week."

Amariyah considered that, too. "Just don't kick it anymore," she said, giving Scott a long hard look. "You don't know your own strength."

He hung his head. "Guess so."

"Thank you, boys, for coming forward. That takes a lot of moral courage," Dorotea said, herding them to the door.

"Not when your parents're psychic, it doesn't," Drew muttered.

"They're not here facing Amariyah," Dorotea said. "You appreciate that, don't you, Amariyah."

"I am doing that," the girl replied, and popped the last bite of toast into her mouth.

"I think that's all, boys. I thank you for coming," Dorotea said.

"Only," and now Scott, reprieved, touched Amariyah on the shoulder, "how did you get the ball so far up the beech tree? Are you a kinetic?"

She shook her head, since she was chewing.

"She's far too young to know what what sort of psychic ability she has," Dorotea said, chuckling. sort of psychic ability she has," Dorotea said, chuckling.

Oooh, that's a whopper of a lie, Peter told his mentor. He was hovering in the hall, waiting until the interview was over.

Not at all. We don't know what sort of Talent she has.

Yet, was Peter's capper.

She was busy herding the boys to the kitchen door. Thanks for not appearing. It was hard enough for them to come apologize no matter what parental pressure was put on them Thanks for not appearing. It was hard enough for them to come apologize no matter what parental pressure was put on them.

Psychics must a.s.sume responsibility for the application of their Talent, either conscious or inadvertent, Peter remarked loftily. Hey, don't let Maree have all the toast Hey, don't let Maree have all the toast.

Dorotea popped four more slices in the appliance. Come and get it! Come and get it!

Did she repair the garden? she repair the garden?

Were you eavesdropping? Dorotea demanded sternly. Dorotea demanded sternly.

No. I looked when the boys came in. What happens if they see that there's no damage now?

They went the other way round the house, Dorotea said with a mental chuckle. So as not to view the scene of their crime So as not to view the scene of their crime.

"Good morning," Peter said cheerfully as he ambulated into the kitchen. "Mistress Maree, how doth your garden grow this morning?"

Amariyah blinked and looked up at Peter's bland face.

PETER! Dorotea expressed indignation at such a gaffe. Dorotea expressed indignation at such a gaffe.

"Quite well, thank you," Amariyah said, speaking through her mouthful of toast, crumbs emerging in a spatter when she came to the "th."

"Really, Amariyah, how many times do I have to tell you not to speak with your mouth full?" Dorotea asked, pretending dismay.

"He asked. It's not polite to ignore a 'good morning.' "

"Gotcha," said Peter, managing to c.o.c.k his index finger at Dorotea and winking.

"Polite response or not, do not speak with your mouth full, Amariyah, and use the napkin, please."

The psychics who had responded to Amariyah's shriek followed the example of Rhyssa and Dorotea: they ignored it. Ted built the twelve-foot anchor mesh fence around the back of the basketball standard. Amariyah's garden prospered. If, in the next few years, she grew things that ought not to survive winters in Jerhattan, no one remarked on that. They enjoyed unseasonal blooms, fruits, and vegetables. Even Tirla, who had no interest in gardening whatever, was complimentary.

Over the next two years, Amariyah studied the Basic Tuition courses and received high scores. On her own initiative, she studied elementary botany, biology, and horticulture. She complained to Dorotea that the curriculum was much too basic and asked for a more advanced course. She was also very good about keeping in touch with Sister Kathleen and Sister Epiphania on a regular basis and received short notes in return. To prove that she had grown and was flouris.h.i.+ng, she sent them a glossy of herself and Dida Tea in front of her flower garden. But she didn't say that it was her very own garden.

Peter, too, studied hard and by the time he was eighteen, he had completed degree courses in engineering with an emphasis on astronautics, physics, and astronomy. He read everything he could access on s.p.a.ces.h.i.+p design, lunar habitats and ecology, and the constant flow of Martian reports, and he memorized the cla.s.sified data that Johnny Greene slipped him from time to time about Mars's first manned station. Learning all he could helped Peter Reidinger pa.s.s the time until he was officially allowed to work for the Parapsychic Centers.

When Tirla married Sascha on her sixteenth birthday, her wedding bouquet contained stephanotis floribunda stephanotis floribunda, blossoming vigorously out of season. Amariyah, as an ecstatic bridesmaid for her dearest friend, wore a circlet made of the flower that was reputed to encourage happy marriages. Sascha was equipped with a sprig on his formal jacket and so was his best man, his twin brother, Boris. Rhyssa also carried a generous matron of honor's spray of stephanotis. Dorotea and Shria, acting as "mothers of the bride," wore corsages of traditional Greek wedding flowers. They sat proudly in the front row of the imposing lounge of the Henner mansion as Lessud escorted his foster daughter to Teresa Aiello who, in her capacity as mayor of Jerhattan, performed the marriage ceremony. The bride had said she would "honor" her spouse but emphatically refused to have the word "obey" in the vows she took .

Mama Bobchik was the only representative of Linear G and that was solely because she had been present at Tirla's illegal birth. And remembered the date. She was so awed by the company that she was rendered almost speechless, although the occasion did not inhibit her appet.i.te. Nor did anyone "notice" how much of the food disappeared from the buffet tables that Mama Bobchik continually browsed. Peter, serving as an usher at the intimate wedding, kept a check on her acquisitiveness in case small items of value in the reception rooms went astray. In this, Mama Bobchik was somewhat maligned, for she limited herself to foodstuffs.

Kayankira had appeared, still hopeful that she could contract for Tirla's services as soon as she turned eighteen, despite Rhyssa's constant a.s.surances that the polylinguist would definitely be stationed in Jerhattan to be near her husband. Carmen Stein was a guest, as were Ca.s.s Cutler and Suzanne Nbembi, the first psychics with whom Tirla had worked. Sirikit and Budworth in his mobility chair came down from the Incident control room.

After the traditional wedding cake was cut and distributed, the speeches spoken and toasts given, Peter 'ported the bride and groom to their secret honeymoon destination.

Dorotea and Shria wept and so did Mama Bobchik. Boris heaved a sigh of relief that his brother was finally safely married to his most unusual bride. If anyone remarked on the disparity of ages between bride and groom, everyone who knew Tirla at all well recognized that she was sixteen going on sixty, in real-life terms. She was more than a match for Sascha. It was devoutly hoped that he was a match for her her.

5.

Starting the day after his eighteenth birthday, Peter Reidinger spent time in all the other Parapsychic Centers on Earth, getting to know the other registered kinetics, hoping that he could find one more who could employ the gestalt that had added such scope to his, and Johnny Greene's, abilities. He had already met other Center chiefs when their travels brought them to Eastern on business with Rhyssa, but not all the other kinetics. Despite the ingenious tests that Lance Baden had set during his training period, Peter Reidinger had yet to learn the limits of his kinetic thrust. Even without using generator power to augment kinesis, he could lift several tons. Not very far, of course, but without visible strain. In gestalt, he apparently had no limit.

Lance reported to Rhyssa that he hesitated to try to explore the potential for fear of inadvertently pus.h.i.+ng Peter too far; if there was was a "too far" for Peter's gestalt. a "too far" for Peter's gestalt.

Rhyssa showed Lance's report to Johnny on his next visit to her office. It had become a frequent stop in his weekly schedule now that Jerhattan had officially opened a telepad and supplied generators capable of thrusting supply drones to Padrugoi. He let the hardcopy drift down to her desk.

"Well, I'm satisfied with pumping stuff up to Padrugoi. That's pretty good for a banged-up middle-aged ex-etop pilot:' Johnny said with a grin. "Trouble is, it's not quite good enough anymore."

"What are you leading up to?" Rhyssa asked, c.o.c.king her head at him.

"Basically, how soon I can start using Pete."

"What do you mean?"

"You know what I mean. Now that Padrugoi's looking ever outward, I'm useless."

"Oh, go on!" Rhyssa said derisively.

"I'm serious. There's First Base expanding habitable blocks on the Moon . . ."

"Lance is up there, handling construction tasks very well," she said, trying to compose herself for what was really on J. Greene's mind.

"On the Moon, yes, but not in s.p.a.ce. Not when the s.p.a.ce Authority is looking to set up a permanent south polar base on Mars." He leaned sideways, his green-flecked amber eyes gleaming. "We need Pete in s.p.a.ce, Rhyssa, not stuck downside." When she started to protest, he rapidly continued. "Yeah, I know. He's trying to find you another gestalter." Johnny's opinion of the prospect was low. "If you haven't up 'til now, you're not likely to. Furthermore, Pete will feel that he's failed you if he doesn't."

"Oh, come now, Johnny, that's a bit strong," she replied, irritated.

"You know it isn't. The boy adores you. He's determined to make you proud of him."

"I already am," Rhyssa protested.

"Then let him perform where he's best suited. In s.p.a.ce."

"There are far too many things that can go wrong in s.p.a.ce," she said firmly.

"Like kidnappers?"

"Low blow, John Greene," she snapped back. "He's unique!"

"And we can't lose him," he finished for her. "But you you will!" Johnny c.o.c.ked his finger at her, his expression solemn, "If you keep him down on Earth doing piddling little pushes when what he really wants is s.p.a.ce. He has since the moment he pushed that supply rocket up from Florida. Where you were quite happy to take him so you could show off his unique abilities!" He bracketed the last two words and gave her a challenging stare. "Look, at least let him train on Padrugoi. Maybe you're right," and Johnny took to pacing, throwing his hands in the air. "Maybe he can't cut the mustard in s.p.a.ce. Maybe he's agoraphobic and the sight of so much 'nothing' all around will freak him out." will!" Johnny c.o.c.ked his finger at her, his expression solemn, "If you keep him down on Earth doing piddling little pushes when what he really wants is s.p.a.ce. He has since the moment he pushed that supply rocket up from Florida. Where you were quite happy to take him so you could show off his unique abilities!" He bracketed the last two words and gave her a challenging stare. "Look, at least let him train on Padrugoi. Maybe you're right," and Johnny took to pacing, throwing his hands in the air. "Maybe he can't cut the mustard in s.p.a.ce. Maybe he's agoraphobic and the sight of so much 'nothing' all around will freak him out."

Johnny paused and gave Rhyssa a big grin. "I sorta doubt it. He's been hanging in s.p.a.ce, of a sort, since the first time he went out-of-body to find you. He needs to find out what his limitations are because we sure as h.e.l.l don't know them."

"Did he put you up to this, Johnny?" Rhyssa managed to keep her voice level. Her thoughts were chaotic; she had sensed Peter's disappointment with his a.s.signment to find more gestalting kinetics, though he had kept a tight s.h.i.+eld on his thoughts, smiled, and told her he'd do his best.

"Me? No." He opened his mind so she'd know he was telling the truth. "That's why I'm here now, making sure you make the right decision before he wonders where on earth you're going to stash him to 'keep him safe.' For Pete's sake," and he gave her a droll grin for his use of the well-known exclamation, "give him the permission before he asks you. You'll strengthen your position with him."

She knew that was true.

"Contract him to Padrugoi," Johnny went on. "Dirk likes likes the boy. He the boy. He needs needs him badly to finish off the him badly to finish off the Arrakis Arrakis. They're behind schedule. He'll also make sure that he's thoroughly trained. If I'm wrong and Pete can't hack s.p.a.cework, it'll be Dirk who tells him. Not you."

Rhyssa dropped her eyes, sighing as she recognized the merits of that argument. From the moment Peter Reidinger had touched her sleeping mind, they had had a bond that she had done everything she could to strengthen. She also recalled Dave's warning about Peter's yearning to be involved with the s.p.a.ces.h.i.+ps, and s.p.a.ce itself.