Pegasus in Space (22 page)

Reidinger seemed to know an awful lot about the internal design features of the
Arrakis
, too. He didn’t argue, but at times, even the on-site naval architect and the construction boss, even the general, deferred to him. That galled Silversmith even more. To cap it all, the admiral gave Silversmith a commendation for his “expert training and guidance of one Peter Reidinger to the level of space-safe required by the Authority.” Silversmith was torn between hoping the kid never did tumble off into space, thus keeping the chief’s record untarnished, and hoping the kid disappeared without trace, a victim of the black. Perversely, the chief put one of
his own secret security locks on the rack where the kid’s suit hung. No grunt, blackmailed by that Ponce scuz, was going to sabotage it. The chief had a reputation to maintain.

When Silversmith was given another assignment, he removed his security lock, never realizing that several attempts had been made to open that rack; none, of course, successful.

Then he heard that Reidinger had conned one of the Limo pilots into training him on the Station’s simulators. He supposed that the admiral would check the kid out on them, too, and decided that the navy had gone to hell in a handbasket if it would certify the space-mad on a self-destruction course.

On the few subsequent times when the chief happened to pass Reidinger in the corridors, he didn’t look quite so much like a kid anymore.

R
hyssa invited Peter, Dorotea, and Amariyah to dinner with her family on his second night downside. Dorotea discreetly informed her that the first thing Peter had done was to ask Amariyah to help him pin up a digital print of the
Arrakis
over his treasured diagram of the
Andre Norton
. The second thing was to take a stroll though the grounds with Amariyah hanging on to his hand, so that she could show him what she’d been doing while he’d been away and question him about anything new in the Station hydroponics unit.

When he walked into Rhyssa’s house the next night, she was instantly conscious of his air of competence and assurance. She embraced him gladly, allowing him to feel her delight in seeing him and her pride in his latest accomplishment.

I’m not at risk in space anymore, Rhys
.

As Johnny would have it, you’ve been ‘in space’ since I sprang you from that awful hospital bed
, she responded. “Oops, the thundering herd knows you’re back!”

She stepped aside as her three-year-old son Eoin stampeded into the living room, yelling “Petey, Petey, Petey.” Instantly Peter folded himself down to the child’s level, smiling warmly, holding out one hand.

“Hey, there, Eoin, how’s the man?”

In his brother’s wake, Chester toddled as fast as he could pump his legs to clasp the other hand, squealing with delight.

They ignored Dorotea and Amariyah, dancing about until their mother settled their good friend on the couch where they could climb up on him.

“I guess I know who counts,” Dorotea said with a disdainful sniff. “Evening, Dave,” she added when Lehardt arrived with a tray of drinks and handed her the dry sherry she preferred.

“They don’t see Peter every day like they do us,” Amariyah remarked imperturbably, sitting on the velvet footstool beside Dorotea’s chair and smoothing the dress she and Tirla had bought for the occasion. It was the one Peter had liked best when they were shopping that afternoon. Going shopping—and to the Old-Fashioned Parlor of Gastronomical Delights—was almost a ritual for the three of them. “Thank you, Dave,” she said, accepting the fruit juice Dave served her.

“Didn’t know what you’d be drinking now that you’re a certified space-walker, Pete.”

“Same thing I drank when I wasn’t,” Peter replied, draping his arms about each of the two limpetlike boys as they snuggled into him.

Rhyssa sat close enough to remove either or both of her sons if they squirmed too much. Peter did slip free of one clinging paw so he could “hold” the glass of ice water Dave offered. The boys, who were close to their bedtime, were being very good so they could stay up longer. Rhyssa was grateful that Peter hadn’t lost his calming effect on them. Rachelle would shortly come to take them for their bath.

“How d’you get on in space, Pete?” Dave asked as he gave his wife her cocktail and settled himself with his drink in the leather conformable chair.

“Well, book was made on whether or not I could hack the black.”

“No kidding. They had a wager going?” Dave was amused. Rhyssa was not.

“Standard operating procedures, Rhys,” Peter said, sensing her annoyance. “They’re always betting up there. On anything, like who’ll be the next one to take a tumble or how big the fine’ll be for losing work-hours.”

“And I’ll bet,” Dorotea said proudly, “you were far too deft to incur a fine.”

“I had to prove to Chief Silversmith that I wouldn’t, you know.”

“Oh?” asked Rhyssa, catching a flash of suppressed hubris. “The chief didn’t like you?”

“Well,” and Peter demurred, “I think I irritated him …” he shot a quick look at Rhyssa over Chester’s head.
Honest, I didn’t peek. The guy
radiated such waves of hostility I’d have to have been deaf not to be aware
. Aloud he said, “I don’t quite know why I ticked him off. I did everything he told me to.”

Dorotea gave a polite chortle, tapping her lips with her knuckles, her eyes dancing.

“That might have had something to do with it,” Rhyssa remarked.

“Probably he’s never met anyone quite like you before,” Dave said in a dry voice.

“There isn’t anyone else like Peter,”Amariyah said primly, eyeing Dave in dignified reproof.

Dave was accustomed to her blunt remarks and grinned. “You’re quite right, of course, Amariyah, but petty officers in the navy are often a law to themselves.”

“Chief Silversmith had to keep his reputation as an instructor,” Peter told Amariyah. “I certainly didn’t want him to fail with me.” He made eye contact with Rhyssa. “He didn’t have a bet on me, either way. I had the sense he didn’t know which he wanted most—for me to fail or succeed.”

“You had a choice?” Dave asked lightly.

“What do you think, Dave?” Rhyssa replied, wishing not for the first time that her husband had some empathy. He winked at her and she knew she’d taken his bait. She made a face at him. “Of course you had to succeed. Johnny was sure you would.”

“Is that why he personally bird-dogged me and had extra grunts assigned to wherever I was working? I
know
for a fact he’s not keen on EVA. And don’t think I didn’t feel Madlyn’s touch every minute I was outside.”

Rhyssa had the grace to look abashed.
You know I had to
.

“How do you know Johnny doesn’t like working in space?” Dave asked, surprised.

“I just do,” Peter said, and he lifted his shoulders in the general’s characteristic shrug. “You get to know who likes EVA and who’s the least bit nervous.”
A genuine case of mind over matter, Rhyssa
.

“Why do they work in space then, if they’re nervous?” Amariyah wanted to know.

“It’s a good job and pays well,” Peter said.

“And safe enough once Barchenka was no longer in charge,” Dave remarked.

“Why? Wasn’t it always safe?” Amariyah tilted her head inquiringly at Peter, wanting his opinion.

“No, it wasn’t, Maree, but no one needs to worry about getting lost in space anymore.”

“Why? Do you rescue them?” she asked, although she indicated there could be but one answer.

Peter dropped his eyes to his drink.

“Well, do you?” she insisted, leaning toward him. “You can do anything you want.”

“I suspect that if Peter needed to rescue anyone, they wouldn’t be aware of it. Would they, Peter?” Rhyssa asked.

He grinned at her. “More or less. Didn’t happen often anyway. All they needed was a bit of a halt to stop their spin.”

“Did you have eyes in the back of your helmet?” asked Dave, amused.

“No, I had Madlyn looking out for me and she knew the signs. So,” and his grin was self-deprecating, “it was more her than me, Maree, preventing the need for rescue.”

“When I’ve learned hydroponics and work on the Space Station, will I get to go out into space? Will you rescue me if I need it, Peter?” Amariyah asked.

“Of course I will,” he said stoutly.

Rachelle appeared in the doorway. Eoin and Chester saw her and clung to Peter’s arms.

“You’ve had an extra fifteen minutes, boys,” their father said, gesturing for them to go to Rachelle. They grumbled and shifted about, hoping for a reprieve.

“C’mon, boys. The bubbles are all ready for your swim,” Rachelle said, holding out both hands.

“Which bubbles?” Eoin wanted to know, reluctant to leave Peter.

“I’ll be back tomorrow morning, Eoin. You can tell me which ones then,” Peter said, and gave the little boy a subtle push off the couch. Rachelle saw the obstinate look on Chester’s round face and went to scoop him off the couch. “I’ll see you tomorrow morning, too, Chester. It’s great to be back!”

“I think dinner’s ready,” Rhyssa said, rising to her feet and indicating to Dave that he should escort Dorotea to the dining room.

During dinner, Rhyssa brought Peter up to date on all Center news. Lance Baden was back in Adelaide, flown directly into the Woomera Space Station, his contract for the Moon expansion completed. He would probably sign up for another. Dorotea had Peter repeat some of the tales he had recounted the previous evening of his experiences on Padrugoi. Rhyssa was not unaware of some of the pressures he had experienced. That was why the subtle Dorotea had prompted him to repeat them. Rhyssa had plenty of food for thought while Peter, with great relish, ate the meal she had prepared for him.

“Not that I can’t get anything I want up at Padrugoi,” he hastily amended.

“Food eaten in the company of good friends always has more savor,” Dorotea said pontifically.

“Why? We’re eating the same things you cooked last night,” Amariyah said.

Dorotea cleared her throat and rolled her eyes heavenward at such tactlessness. Dave guffawed

A bit like Tirla, isn’t she?
Peter said, reassuring Rhyssa with a wide grin. “I’d like seconds of the garlic potatoes, please. That’s one thing they don’t use on the Station.”

“Why not? Garlic has many healthful properties,” Amariyah said.

“It also has one effect that may not be appreciated in a recycled air environment,” Dave said.

“What?”Amariyah asked.

“Bad breath,” Dave replied, ignoring flatulence.

“Elephant garlic has no odor,” the girl said.

“We take the point, Maree,” Peter said, grinning with mischief.

“H
e’s growing up,” Rhyssa said wistfully to her husband when they were getting ready for bed that night.

“ ’Bout time. And he’s enjoying life.
All
of it, I hope.” Dave rolled his eyes.

“David!” she said in protest, because his expression was slightly salacious. “He’s only eighteen!”

“Honey, I’d had my first sex by the time I was sixteen.”

“You did?”

“We won’t go into that. It was youthful exuberance, love!”

“Peter’s not sterile,” she added. “The medics say that paraplegics can, you know.”

“I know. I asked,” Dave said.

“Then kindly don’t encourage him.”

“It’s not for a
guy
to encourage him,” Dave said with a second suggestive leer.

“David!”

“And he’s closer to nineteen, you know.” He tried to change the subject. “So he has a week home, and then another three being a stevedore?”

“Stevedore?” Rhyssa gave him another hard look for his word choice.

“All right, transport and construction kinetic!”

“That’s better. I wonder who else we could send up to Padrugoi from the Center?”

“I thought you didn’t want him to experience ‘life’ yet?” Dave asked, stacking the pillows behind him so he could watch Rhyssa at her nightly beauty ritual. Privately he didn’t think she needed to fuss with creams and lotions, but he liked watching her.

“Another
male
his age. He’s very lonely. I caught that.”

“He is? I thought he was having the time of his life, doing what he’s wanted most! Building a colony ship.”

Rhyssa swung round from her dressing table mirror. “I couldn’t let him go on a colony ship.”

“Did I say he wanted to go on one? But sometimes, my telepathic darling, you don’t notice the obvious.”

Rhyssa blinked her eyes, then had to blot the cream out of them.

“He feels out of place,” Dave explained. “He hasn’t formed any friendships with the Station personnel.”

“Even now he’s doing EVA?”

“Dorotea noticed it. Amariyah didn’t.”

“How would you know that?” she asked.

“She’d’ve been on it like a shark. She doesn’t miss much about Pete, you know.”

“Oh, dear.” Rhyssa paused in wiping off her cleansing cream. “We don’t have another Tirla-Sascha item, do we?”

Dave shrugged. “That wouldn’t be all bad, would it? What does Dorotea say?”

“It’s true that Maree adores him. Almost—” Rhyssa paused to chuckle. “—as much as she does gardening.”