Authors: Anne McCaffrey
“They’re going to work us hard today, I know it,” Johnny said with a glance at the clock and a groan. “Maybe we should have timed our arrival for a more civilized hour.”
“You picked it,” Peter said.
“Then let us go about our daily occasions,” Johnny said in a pompous tone. “Meetcha in the conference room in five.” Johnny ’ported himself away.
With a nod to the ensign, who was trying to act nonchalant about the general’s disappearance, Peter left as well. His quarters looked exactly the same and although the cabin was tidy—he was never quite that neat—it also had an unused feel to it. Would he have a shadow onstation, too? He dropped his gear on the bunk and ’ported to the conference room.
The monitor displayed the day’s schedule with a brief note of welcome back from Dirk Coetzer and the confirmation from Lieutenant Bergkamp that the Gadriel circuits had been no trouble to add to the Padrugoi generators. Peter was as glad to be first in. He could take advantage of the time to see if he could set up his “South America” scam. He scanned the list and found the very one—only ten kilos. He’d have to change the destination to where? On Earth … someplace Johnny didn’t know and would have to get a visual of. He couldn’t think of a target so he invented one: a new customer—Calco laboratory—a lab facility would have features much like “South America.” Calco would be “situated” in Jerhattan. God knows there were enough small companies like that in the industrial perimeter of Jerhattan, which was well within Johnny’s acknowledged “limit.” Speaking quietly, Peter did the necessary editing. Since he was familiar with Johnny’s preference for hard copy, he touched the print button, feeling the moment of contact in the tip of his finger. He chuckled to himself. If Johnny liked to hold hard copy, Peter liked to touch keys, now that he could feel them.
“Ho, there, you beat me to it,” Johnny said, arriving in the room. “Barney?”
For a single moment, Peter froze, having forgotten that the steward might be waiting in the serving alcove. He told himself firmly that Barney could not have seen, been interested in, much less suspicious of anything
Peter had just done. Just then the door from the hall opened and Barney entered, carrying a tray of supplies.
“Had to collect fresh coffee, General. Good morning, Mr. Reidinger.”
Peter let go a relieved breath. He really wasn’t up to deception. Although, maybe, that’s why he’d get away with this.
“Got our day’s work organized, Pete?” Johnny asked, and, with an offhand motion, Peter passed him the paper copy. “I’ll just get rid of the downside junk.” He whistled. “Boy, First Base ought to pay off its mortgage with these shipments of rare earths.” He paused, running his finger down the side of the sheet. “Only destination I don’t know is the Calco lab.”
“They sent a visual,” Peter said, bringing “South America” up on-screen.
“Humph. Well, there can’t be two stains like that in the world,” Johnny said, settling into his chair preparatory to leaning into the generators.
“Easy to see,” Peter remarked, clamping down on his inner tension. “I’ll just assemble the first load to the Moon.” Should he wait and give Johnny a hand if he “felt” any difference, ’porting that far? He didn’t dare mess with Johnny at the outset. Better wait! Johnny must realize that he had the kinetic strength to ’port to any place he could “see.”
You go first, Johnny
. He was real pleased with how casual he sounded, despite the way his gut was acting. How had he forgotten that aspect of sensation?
“Remember to tune into the Gadriel circuits,” he said casually to Johnny.
“I certainly will. This’ll make ’porting a snap.”
Peter let himself “feel” Johnny get tuned to the new configuration, and the general smiled at his ease of contact. Then he started his ’port, frowning slightly as the gauge on the generator panel swung over at his usage.
“And it was only to Jerhattan,” Johnny exclaimed, baffled. “What happened? Gadriel’s gimmicks were supposed to make this easier.”
“Well, no,” Peter said blithely, grinning fit to crack his face, “actually, General Greene, you just pushed ten kilos to the astronomy laboratory at First Base. Congratulations!”
Johnny’s jaw dropped and his dark brows met across the bridge of his nose.
“I what? Say again!” There was a “general” in that command.
“I said, actually, General Greene …”
Johnny flicked an impatient hand, his glare deepened. “I know what you said. Tuning into a generator makes that much difference to my range?”
Peter gestured to the monitor. “Tuning does make a difference, I’m sure, but you ought to be able to ’port wherever you can ‘see,’ Johnny. As I did to the bollard in the parking lot and to the table in Watari’s office.”
For a very long moment, Johnny stared at “South America,” jutted his jaw, cocked his head to glower sideways at Peter, then back at the screen.
“Ten kilos?” he asked in an all-too-quiet voice.
“Ten kilos of storage crystals that Dr. Pienarr ordered.” Peter waited. He knew Johnny Greene well enough to see the tension building in his body and he awaited the explosion with considerable anxiety. “I changed the—”
“NEVER EXPLAIN!” The general propelled himself out of the chair and Peter backed away. Then Johnny threw his head back and howled with laughter, doubling over and slapping his hands on his thighs. “Kid, you’re amazing.” He took a forward step and gave Peter a buffet on his shoulder, which would have knocked Peter off balance if Johnny hadn’t also grabbed his arm to steady him.
“I never thought you a devious type, Pete,” Johnny said through gasps of laughter, his eyes tearing with mirth. “Hoisted me on my own petard, you did.”
“About time, don’t you think?” Peter asked, cocking his head and regarding the older man sardonically.
Barney emerged from his alcove, for once baffled by their antics.
“It’s too early in the morning,” Johnny said, controlling hilarity with an effort, “for champagne and Peter doesn’t drink. Coffee please, Barney? And whatever Pete wants to celebrate his connivery. Good one, Pete! Caught me fair and square.”
He wiped his eyes and dropped limply into his chair until Barney put a coffee mug in front of him and a teacup for Peter, steam from the herbal brew sending off a spiced aroma.
“I caught you, Johnny?” Peter asked, noting the odd turn of phrase.
“Yes, caught me, Pete.” Johnny’s eyes twinkled over the rim of his cup as he took a judicious sip of the hot coffee.
“You mean, you
knew
you could ’port farther?”
Johnny nodded, with a rascally expression on his face.
“I suspected but I also knew damned well that if I admitted I could, I’d be made to. Never volunteer.”
“You volunteered
me,
” Peter exclaimed with some indignation.
“True, true, but if you’d shown the least sign of strain, kid,” and the general turned quite solemn, “I’d’ve called a halt like right then.” He brought his hand down edgewise on the table in a firm blow. “Lance was sure you could do it, too, so we arranged that little bit of foolery from the Adelaide Center. I never thought you’d play the same trick on me.” He gave his head an admiring shake and chuckled again.
“Lance? What about
his
true range?”
“Ah,” and Johnny rocked his spread fingers in a gesture of doubt. “Gadriel said he’s tone-deaf. He can’t ‘tune,’ so he can’t access the Gadriel circuitry, Peter.” Johnny let go an understandable sigh of satisfaction that he could. “He’s fine over short distances with the strength that’s in him. But I don’t think he could make it for a long haul. Too bad, he’d be an asset.”
“To ‘see’ is to ’port,” Peter murmured.
“For you, and you’ve proved that’s right for me, too. But until we do find someone else with that extra little something …” In one of Johnny’s volatile changes, pure mischief gleamed in his green-flecked amber eyes. “What were you telling me the other morning about a company of telepaths and teleports?”
Peter smoothed his face of expression. Johnny had been so hung over. From now on, Peter would be more cautious about what he said.
“Just testing the water.”
“How?”
Peter pointed to the clocks on the wall. “Tell you later. We’ve got stuff to move.”
Johnny nodded. “You’re right there. Only, kid,” and he touched Peter’s elbow, “next time you give me something to ’port to First Base, warn me, will ya? I nearly ran out of tune!”
T
hey finished the first session in complete accord and organized cargoes for the second hour’s work.
“Why didn’t you come with me to the observatory?” Peter asked. “Mind you, I’m glad you didn’t or I wouldn’t have been able to fool you.”
“While you were there, I was busy talking Watari into the necessity for our abrupt and stealthy departure. Vin Cyberal was reviewing the surveillance tapes on Shimaz to make sure he’d had no contact with anyone since the Limo got there. He’s been on restriction for the last month so there had been no contact with anyone.”
“Restriction?” Peter asked.
“Yeah, well, complete isolation. If an offie gets real obstreperous—and that’s Shimaz’s middle name—he’s totally secluded. Not quite cocooned as you and Tirla were but the next best thing. Food, water, and surveillance are on automatic. Not even a Moon mite could get in. And none did.”
“So then he wasn’t involved?”
Johnny made a grimace. “Certainly not directly. The theory is developing that this fatwa-type operation is also on automatic. Someone or ones is following his original orders to take vengeance on you, and me, for the indignities heaped on his very worthy soul.” Johnny flicked his fingers restlessly. “He was, of course, working up at Padrugoi on the Josephson Junctions so Barchenka knew him. Maybe too well. But he was convicted, sentenced, and in the Lunar Prison before she plotted her little Mutiny. Uncle Riz made visits to her, so if she had opted for revenge—” His eyebrows twitched. “—and she would have loved to get back at both of us for defusing her Mutiny; that would explain how Flimflam got around so handily on Padrugoi. Fortunately for all concerned, it’s doubtful that he ever passed on this information.” Johnny paused thoughtfully. “Maybe that’s why he was assassinated.” Abruptly, Johnny slapped both hands on his thighs. “Enough of such maudlin speculation. By the way, Lance should be passing through Padrugoi this week on his way home. He’s finished the current construction contract and he wants to renew his acquaintance with full gravity.” Johnny winked broadly. “On your way, kid. Surprise him with your physical prowess.”
As resolutely as Johnny, Peter put Barchenka, Shimaz, Flimflam, and vengeance out of his mind and turned to more profitable thoughts. Once again, he wished he could find, or train, more people to use the Gadriel gestalt. Especially since Johnny had remembered Peter’s grandiose Telepaths and Teleporters scheme. Either way, two out of three was a step toward that goal. Maybe not this year, or next. Perhaps not for another decade.
You’re only twenty, Peter told himself firmly to dampen his enthusiasm.
That twenty-year-old self felt like cartwheeling down the corridor.
T
hat evening when Peter tried to book time on the station’s link with Far-side Telescope, he was politely told that even officers had to submit a summary of why they should have use of telescope time, what constellation they intended to focus on, and what conclusion they hoped to draw. The request could take as much as a year to be granted. For all Peter’s bravado about prerogatives, he did not quite have the confidence to force the issue.
“However, Mr. Reidinger, you may not realize how much is available on file. All use of the telescopes is recorded. You might review the sessions and see if any of them correspond with the stars you’re interested in seeing.”
“Actually, I wanted to have a look around our own system,” Peter said.
“Then you’ll find all you need to know in storage,” the ensign told him fatuously. Peter doubted that. No one had ever needed to know what he did. “Shall I register you for the first available space? Would you take a cancellation?”
Peter said yes to both suggestions. He wished he could have asked Johnny how to proceed. If General Greene had wanted time, it would have been made available. As Peter hadn’t even formulated what he envisioned of T&T to tell Johnny, he certainly didn’t want to muddy that idea with another half-assed concept, like breaking Tithonus free of the Patroclus group and moving it to an orbit around Callisto and using
that
as his place to stand. As strong a teleporter as Peter was, he doubted he was up to ’porting an asteroid. Of course, he’d need Johnny’s clout and authority to obtain the new rocket drives to install on Tithonus. But that was another problem.
Meanwhile, the
Arrakis
was nearing completion and recruitment for colonists had begun. In another year and a half, she would be launched. Even with Johnny, Lance, and the aid of all known kinetics on Earth, the ’portation of a colony ship to its destination—even tuned to a Gadriel gestalt—was just a mote in his eye. Right now.
When he checked the archives, he found thousands of hours devoted
to the solar system and the individual planets and their satellites, going back to the
Voyager, Pathfinder, Galileo, Soho
, and
Cassini
, all well before Padrugoi’s link with the Farside Telescopes was initiated. The more he read about Callisto, the more he realized that Tithonus was the better solution for a base. He wondered if there were any bollards at the temporary Marspolar facility. He could imagine the expressions on the faces of Admiral Coetzer and Secretary Abubakar when he told them he’d consider supplying Mars, too.
Meanwhile he had a lot of work to do, proving his worth to both gentlemen and improving his muscular development. Peter could hardly wait until Lance got to Padrugoi on Friday. During the week he happened to be in the officers’ mess at the same time Ceara was. He enjoyed talking with her, felt more relaxed when he went back to the conference room. But then, she was an empath and undoubtedly she automatically responded with a soothing aura. He didn’t mind. He found her company excellent. On Wednesday he met Ping Yung in the corridor and listened to the hydroponics expert going on about Amariyah’s rescue of the delicate plants.