Pegasus In Space

8

"Asked their permission?" Incredulity and outrage colored Johnny Greene's voice as Peter Reidinger arrived at the admiral's lounge, promptly at 2130 hours. "Asked their permission to move the freighter?"

"Or so the company spokesman informed me," the admiral said, his tone amused.

"Then that captain should have asked our permission for tangling in our net, " Johnny said.

"The net was not where it was supposed to be," Dirk replied in the manner of someone reporting conversation. "Good evening, Pete. Barney, see what Mr. Reidinger wants to drink."

"Lit up like a Christmas tree," Johnny went on, "dense enough to be clearly visible on the antiquated screens those tubs use, and three klicks from where he should have been to reach the mooring Honeybald assigned him. That captain is suffering from a serious visual malfunction." Then as an afterthought, "Or he wasn't even on the bridge."

"How did you know?" Dirk said, grinning. "And he's captain no longer."

"Good!" Johnny took a swig of his drink like a toast to that dismissal. "We've got enough problems up here without someone inventing more. Freighting's a boring job. I wouldn't want it. But that," and he pointed his finger at the admiral, "doesn't mean I would be a damned fool."

"Ah, Dr. Scott," the admiral said, leaving Johnny to greet another guest. "Hope that little flap on your arrival didn't give you a false impression of our hospitality."

"Of course not. I was impressed by the way you all handled the emergency. Good evening, Peter," she added, nodding to him.

Ceara Scott was certainly not flustered this evening. She wore a burgundy silk suit that was a stunning contrast to her upswept red hair and fitted her extremely well. She certainly didn't look like any medical person he'd ever encountered.

"Admiral?" Johnny's tone chided Coetzer to introduce him and, grinning, Dirk did so.

"A pleasure to meet you, Dr. Scott," the general said, with a wide grin and appreciative glances.

"So you are the famous John Greene," she said. "I was warned about you."

"You were?" Johnny pretended surprised dismay. "Who would cast aspersions on my innocent head?"

"My uncle, Jerry Scott, was in your etop squadron."

"Rosie Scott?" Johnny's surprise was no longer pretend. "You're Rosie's niece?"

She nodded and sighed. "Rosie!" She added, with a grimace, "He hated that nickname."

"Then he shouldn't have been saddled with that shade of red hair," Johnny replied. "Damned good etop, though," he said in an aside to Dirk.

Dash Sakai and Madlyn Luvaro, who looked elegant in a rich emerald green, Pota Chatham, and Shandin Ross arrived in a group and that completed the admiral's table.

Peter sat across from Ceara Scott and tried not to stare at her or worry if she was noticing him. He felt unaccountably awkward with knife and fork. He also felt awkward in answering her questions, especially when the admiral, Johnny, Madlyn, and Dash informed her of his particular part in coping with the emergency. She had watched the space drama from the sick bay.

"Didn't put you off a space walk, did it?" Shandin Ross asked.

"If anything, I was reassured," she replied, her glance flicking from Peter to Johnny.

"Just let us kinetics know when you're ready to try and we'll stand by," Johnny said.

"A space walk is not obligatory, you know," Madlyn said. "I'm one of those who can't 'hack the black,' as they say up here." She gave a little shudder.

"I'd like to try, but only after I've got my experiments started," Ceara Scott replied.

Johnny asked her what area of space medicine.

"It's esoteric and I'd bore you all stiff with the process but I'd be happy to show you my lab work, if you're interested." She smiled at Johnny's startled reaction to her invitation and turned to the admiral. "You must be very proud of the facilities you have up here. So much has already been done. Even under Ludmilla Barchenka."

"Yes, so I understand," the admiral replied at his blandest.

Ceara blushed.

Peter caught her embarrassed thought that possibly the name of the previous Station commander revived unpleasant memories.

Madlyn Luvaro reassured her and then the entree was served and everyone's attention turned to the excellent roast. It was all told a very pleasant evening and, toward the end of it, Peter relaxed sufficiently to enjoy it as much as the others did.

Three days later, he awoke to see a message flashing on the monitor. It was from the admiral's office and indicated that a personnel carrier had to be 'ported to Padrugoi at 0845. He must have been sleeping very soundly to miss the bleep of incoming mail.

Johnny?

Join me for breakfast. His mental tone indicated he did not wish to engage in further discussion at the moment. Like many people, he was more sociable after several cups of coffee. We got time.

Not much, Peter thought, seeing the screen clock registered 0815.

Why didn't you wake me?

I had enough trouble waking me. I'd've thought the bleep would have rise-and-shined you.

When Peter reached the officers' mess, Johnny was already seated at a corner table in an almost empty room. The steward bustled over to settle the new arrival, promptly serving the herbal tea that Peter preferred. The general went on getting coffee inside him and nodded a welcome.

I needed that, Johnny said, with a sigh of repletion as he finished the cup and beckoned the steward for a refill.

What's the matter? Peter asked.

You're not prescient.

You're procrastinating.

Well, I'll give you time to have some of that swill of yours before I totally ruin your breakfast, Johnny replied with a wry grin.

It's that bad?

Ah. Depends on how you look at it, Johnny said with the sort of shrug that Peter had learned to associate with bad news.

Who's after our hides for saving the Station three days ago?

Johnny rolled his eyes and, thanking the attentive steward with a wave, blew on the surface of the hot beverage.

Space Authority is alarmed by the rate at which we acquit our duties.

They're the ones coming up? Why? Monday was no fault of the Station's.

Johnny leaned back, crooking one arm over the back of the chair. In an odd way, it is. We're too damned quick and efficient. There are also too many 'dangerously' full cargo nets, what they hold not yet delivered to their ultimate destination. Also the Mercantile Union demands a full investigation of ex-captain Maggert's unfortunate encounter with the net. Johnny planted one thumb on his chest and reversed it toward Peter. And/or us.

Was someone on the CeeCeeD hurt after all?

Bruises. They should have been strapped in anyhow since they were technically still in flight.

But it was Maggert's fault. The log proves it.

Of course it does, Johnny said with a snort. The Union's just posturing because the freight captains want a raise in fees. Union claims that Padrugoi does not employ enough of their members because the surface-to-station run is unavailable.

It hasn't been available for five years.

True, and the Union was more than happy to stop having to deal with Barchenka. Admiral Coetzer is a different kettle offish. On the other hand, Space Authority says the Station is not making an expeditious use of available shipping to supply First Base and its construction timetable.

But SA is the one complaining about fuel costs. The turnover would be faster if the freighters could use longer burns. Peter stopped because they both knew the answer to that. Longer burns took more fuel.

Johnny nodded, his eyes twinkling. "You got it, Pete. We're caught either side of that barrel. Unless, of course…"

You want us to heave stuff to First Base.

Now did I say that? Johnny demanded, sipping his coffee and raising his curved eyebrows up his forehead.

No, but it's the only way to clear that much of a backlog and you know it. Peter tried not to sound either alarmed, which he was, or angry, which was another way of being alarmed. He should have known where all this was leading. He should have known not to fall into Johnny's little trap in Adelaide with the chips Lance "had so urgently needed." He'd wondered when Johnny was going to bring the Bollard Bag special delivery 'port out in the open.

The Union will be seriously annoyed, Peter said with a sigh.

There will still be plenty of things for SpaceShifters; junk I sure as hell don't want to bust my gut sending, with or without your help. We gotta lay some rules, you know, Johnny said.

"You ever tell anyone about Adelaide?" he asked softly aloud. Not even Dirk Coetzer?

"No, kid, I haven't. Wasn't the right time."

"It is now."

Johnny had the grace to nod, grimacing at the necessity.

Well, Dirk may suspect something. Our pet admiral has ambitions. We're both essential to them. Then Johnny leaned forward across the table, speaking softly, although there was no one else in the mess, bar the steward who was working in the serving alcove. "Anyway, it's much too soon after those fractures for you to be shoving stuff, Pete, but if we could just get one light unit to First Base, it would solve a lot of problems."

"I like the 'we.' "

"Now, kid, at Adelaide, I wanted most to prove your range to you," he said, cocking his finger at Peter.

Peter caught the note in the general's voice. "And now to them. Right?"

"You got it in one."

While Peter doubted himself, it irked him immensely that the Space Authority, which already owed a great deal to his and Johnny's telekinetic abilities, had hesitations.

"Have they asked if I-we-could?"

"That's one of the reasons they're here today, unless I miss my guess." He paused. "But I know that crowd. What with fuel prices going sky-high," and he made a face at using that phrase, "the SA is not at all pleased at the hike in expenses. You and I are their best bet for completing the additions at First Base. And quite likely the Mars project."

"The Moon today and Mars tomorrow?" Peter gawked. "They don't want much, do they?"

"You might get a reprieve on Mars until after First Base is fully operational."

Peter stared at Johnny because the general's tone suggested that this was within the realm of possibility.

"You're not kidding, are you?"

Johnny shook his head solemnly and then started to grin. "Pete, I have every confidence in you."

"What if…"

"What if be damned, Reidinger. You'll never know until you reach the limits of your envelope," Johnny said in a flat and serious tone. "They once said that we'd never break the sound barrier, that we'd never land on the Moon, that we'd never find other habitable worlds in this galaxy. For that matter, the abilities we have were discredited and scorned until Henry Darrow presented 'scientific proof.' "

"Now, wait a minute, General Greene." Peter lifted his hand, holding out his fingers in an urgent "stop" motion.

"Jesus, look at the time. " Gulping down the last of his coffee, Johnny rose to his feet. "We'd better get to CIC and 'port 'em up or they'll be late for this meeting they want. Let's 'port to the corridor outside. We haven't the excuse of an emergency today to plonk right onto the bridge."

Johnny glanced over his shoulder to check if the steward was still out of sight and then nodded "go."

They went and then strode purposefully into the CIC facility. The XO gave them a cheerful greeting. "Admiral's got a side party waiting to welcome our guests, gentlemen."

"Who all's due up?" Johnny asked, pausing by Linke Bevan.

"Secretary of Space Abubakar himself, his Chief Financial Officer, Alicia Taddesse, Mai Leitao."

"Oh, the bottom-liners," Johnny said with a displeased twitch of his lips. "Bean counters."

"A senior officer, Georg Fraga. That's all."

"That's enough. C'mon, Pete. Let's haul their arses up here."

Are those people difficult?

I forget that you haven't had to deal with the Space Authority Administration before. "Pota Chatham's scheduled, isn't she?"

"As you requested, General."

"Morning, Bergkamp," the general said aloud as they reached the engineering station. "Are the generators on-line for our use?"

"Aye, sir, they are," Temuri Bergkamp replied formally, and gestured for the two kinetics to help themselves.

"General Greene," said Dash Sakai from his comm workstation, "I have a request from Jerhattan to lift the personnel carrier whenever you're ready."

Johnny shot a glance at the time icon that read 0843 and slipped into 0844 as they watched. Johnny nodded his head and Peter joined him to make the lift. Eyes twinkling, Johnny made a gesture at Dash Sakai, asking him to open the monitor at the landing bay. As the scene lit up, they all heard the bosun's whistle announcing the arrival on board of distinguished guests.

"Thanks, Bergkamp. C'mon, Pete. I need more coffee," Johnny said, acknowledging the others on the watch as the two kinetics made their way out of CIC.

"Coffee, pulease, Barney," Johnny said as he opened the door into the conference room where the meeting would take place.

"Aye, sir. Mr. Reidinger, tea for you?"

"Please."

Johnny paused by the conference table, looking around it. "We got stalls today." He pointed to the nameplates distributed in a semicircle facing the wide rectangular programmable screen taking up the far wall. "Ah, and whaddaya wanna bet we'll be in direct contact with Colonel Hiroga Watari at First Base."

"You didn't mention him," Peter said. He had already been introduced to the AirForce commander of the Moon Base on one of his infrequent downside trips. The colonel had given Peter a searching scrutiny and dismissed him. Though Peter was somewhat accustomed to such a reaction to his skinny, unprepossessing teenage appearance, the colonel's scathing regard had rankled, the encounter leaving behind it an offensive taint. Whether the colonel was aware of it or not, he exuded negative empathy. Or maybe it was just to nonentities like Peter Reidinger.

Yeoman Nicola Nizukami stepped forward from the other end of the room.

"Colonel Watari is on the schedule, General."

Peter was surprised at her tone; maybe she didn't like the colonel either. Of course, he had come to realize that she adored the admiral and guarded his privacy, and reputation, with the tenacity of a pit bull. Barney came forward and offered them their beverages.

"Aha, Hiroga's struck again, has he?" Johnny said, teasing her. He took a quick sip of his coffee as she flushed, needlessly straightening the hard copy at the first two places. He liked to have hard copy for important meetings. He could doodle on it.

Peter regarded her intently and then realized with dismay that he had come close to scanning her.

"You're his superior in rank, General," she remarked in what might be a total non sequitur.

"That I am," Johnny said cheerfully.

"Your seat's there, Mr. Reidinger is on the admiral's left." Again she colored unaccountably. "Secretary Abubakar on the right."

Johnny leaned around to see who bracketed him at the table. "I certainly don't mind Commander Chatham but do I have to have the CFO on the other side?"

"You've met Ms. Taddesse?"

"I've heard about her." Johnny grimaced.

"Come now, General, a woman you can't get on the good side of?" Nicola said, teasing in her own turn.

"There are some it isn't worth trying."

"Even for the good of the Station?" Nicola tilted her head inquiringly.

They heard voices in the corridor and Nicola stepped back to the chair by the workstation.

A yeoman opened the door and then stood back to allow the guests to enter. The first woman who entered, her hair skinned back from her strong-featured face, was Alicia Taddesse, according to the large print of her Station visitor's badge. She glanced at Nicola, who politely indicated her nametag on the table. Ms. Taddesse shot the general a sharp look, swinging her hard-sided briefcase onto the table. The second woman, with a slightly Asian cast to her features, very dark eyes, and well-cut short black hair, entered nervously. She was so loudly broadcasting her dislike of the mode of transportation she had just had to endure that mentally, Peter reared back. The yeoman indicated her position at the table and she immediately sat down, as if a chair provided security. Then came Secretary of Space Abubakar, a scrawny-looking man with heavy jowls, a small but noticeable paunch under the loose black tunic he wore, and a luxuriant head of white hair, brushed back from a high forehead. He smiled, his eyes moving from Johnny Greene to Peter, Nicola, and Barney, attentively standing in the serving alcove. Behind him, as physically opposite to the Secretary as possible, slouched a tall man who unconsciously ducked his head to enter the room though the portal was certainly high enough to allow clearance to the tallest man on the Station. Georg Fraga nodded pleasantly to Johnny Greene, gave Peter a searching look, and then stood by his chair. Lieutenant Commander Pota Chatham preceded Admiral Dirk Coetzer.

"Pota, when will First Base be on-line?" he asked as he entered.

"They should be on," said Commander Chatham, looking at her comunit, "on my mark in five minutes, sir. Mark!"

"Thank you. Secretary Abubakar, ladies, General, Peter, if you'll all take your seats?" the admiral said. "If you'll be good enough to give Barney here your choice of beverage, we can get that detail attended to before we start the hard work."

The newcomers, with the exception of Mai Leitao who asked for water, preferred coffee. Peter used that brief diversion to seat himself next to Mai Leitao, who made herself very busy, precisely setting out her notepad and lightpen, fussing with the hard copy in front of her.

"Good navy coffee," the Secretary said with a pleasant smile at Barney. His glance fell briefly on Peter.

"Might as well leave a carafe on the table for us before you leave, Barney," the admiral said. "Secretary, have you been officially introduced to Peter Reidinger, the general's colleague in Supply and Transport?"

Peter heard Mai Leitao's surprised intake of breath. He didn't need to look around to know that she immediately leaned as far away from him as her armchair permitted.

Bitch! Johnny Greene said. Ignore her, Pete. She's along for the prestige.

And didn't like the ride, Peter said.

Don't take that to heart. She feels agoraphobic to me.

"Ms. Leitao," Georg Fraga said, rising to his feet. "You're going to need more space. Why don't you change with me? If the admiral doesn't mind?" He looked inquiringly to Coetzer in the center of the table.

As Coetzer spread his hands to indicate permission, he pointedly did not look at either the woman or Peter.

Peter, with as much nonchalance as he could muster, took a sip of his herbal tea and glanced down the table while the exchange was made. Commander Chatham's rigid attention stance relaxed as her comunit chimed.

"Contact, Admiral Coetzer, " she said in her cool alto voice.

The monitor that had been positioned to face the crescent of viewers now flickered as the contact was established. Three men stood, two at attention, in front of a table in the conference room at First Base.

"Admiral Coetzer," said the swarthy-complexioned man in the middle with a bow of his head that Peter decided might have accompanied an unseen click of his heels. "Hiroga Watari here."

Lance Baden grinned and said an Australian "g'day," nodding to all.

"Sirs," and the third man did salute, "ladies." He was as tall as the lanky Baden, but broader in the shoulders, He had curly blond hair and eyes that were vividly blue in a wide face. "Major Cyberal at your command."

"Thank you, gentlemen. Please be seated," said the admiral, and when they were, he banged his fist on the table. "This meeting is called to order. Yeoman, prepare to record."

"Aye, sir," said Nicola's voice from Peter's left.

"Get it off your chest, Secretary," the admiral advised.

"My office is adamant that we achieve a flow of materiel to First Base with no further delays," Abubakar said with no preamble, rising to the challenge.

"Without, of course, increasing costs," said Johnny Greene.

"General, you're out of order," Alicia Taddesse said, giving him a stem look.

"Well, that's the size of it, isn't it?" Johnny said blandly, and took a sip of his coffee.

"The budget will not allow it," Mai Leitao said, shaking her head as she passed her lightpen over the pad and brought up figures. "There is no room for additional expenditure."

"Our operation is daily dropping behind schedule due to lack of essential supplies," Colonel Watari said, scowling, an expression that intensified his Japanese features. "We have immediate needs that have not been met despite frequent urgent requests."

"The price of fuel is rising," Leitao said.

Peter winced. Her voice had a whining edge to it, like a mosquito.

"We must reduce, not increase, the number of flights, Colonel," she added.

"Then how, might I inquire," and the colonel's scowl deepened, "are we to keep our schedule?"

"Cut back on the development, of course," Alicia Taddesse said sharply.

Instantly the Secretary raised his hand in denial of that remark.

"Use the Discretionary Fund to meet fuel costs," Johnny suggested, looking up from the doodles he was making on the hard copy. Mai Leitao stared at him, her mouth dropping. Georg Fraga had a funny expression on his face. "Or, better still, use the kitty from Weapons Research and Development, which is obsolete anyway, except for appearing on the International Budget."

"Now, now, General," the Secretary said soothingly, his eyes on Johnny.

"Well, if you're using that for something else, Secretary, why not the…"

Abubakar cut into his sentence with a set smile. "And you think we haven't culled those sources already, General?"

Alicia Taddesse glared at Greene.

"I was trying to be helpful. How's that 'alternative fuel source' research going? Haven't heard a peep from that bunch in months. They sounded as if they were onto something with the recombinant."

Admiral Coetzer cleared his throat.

"Oh, yeah. I'm not supposed to know about that, am I?" Johnny asked rhetorically.

"I would ask how you do, General," Georg Fraga remarked mildly, his hands clasped idly on the table in front of him, "except I know your security clearance permits you to keep abreast of all new developments."

"A recombinant?" Colonel Watari asked, his eyes widening with interest.

"Need to know, Colonel," Johnny said with a wave of his hand and a slight emphasis on the rank.

"Yes, sir." Watari's scowl returned.

"Whereas," and now the Secretary turned back to Johnny Greene, "you are supposed to be sitting on the answer to our prayers?" He looked pointedly at Peter.

"The kid?" Watari said dismissively, glaring at him. "I don't understand, Admiral, why a civilian," and the sneer was thinly veiled, "is in on a high-level, high-security conference."

"Are you referring to Mr. Reidinger?" the admiral asked in a very gentle voice. "General Greene's colleague?"

"My instructor," Lance put in, his tone unusually harsh. "Same sort of 'civilian' I am, Colonel."

The colonel leaned back in his chair, looking away from the screen, attempting to modify his thoughts appropriately to the clues given by his superior officers.

"Tell me, Mr. Secretary, is the Space Authority in any way obligated to the fuel suppliers?" Johnny asked.

"What do you mean by that?" asked Georg Fraga, washing his hands in what looked like an idle gesture.

Peter wondered, and discovered that Georg Fraga had a tight mental shield. Alicia Taddesse did not and her tension was visible to him despite her controlled expression of polite surprise. Her public mind was swirling with frank replies and how she was to phrase them more discreetly. Mai Leitao's eyes were getting wider and she was broadcasting a tight swirl of anxiety.

"No, we are not," the Secretary said. "We advertise publicly for tenders to supply liquid hydrogen and oxygen from suppliers."

"Who use recycled tanks?" Johnny asked.

"Yes, of course," Abubakar said in a doesn't-everyone-know tone.

"What agency checks those tanks to be sure they haven't sprung leaks?"

"Leaks?" Georg Fraga gave a laugh. "Is your point that SA might be paying for more fuel than the freighters get to use?"

"Got it in one," Johnny said with a curt nod of his head.

"Have you any proof?"

"Indeed I have. Yeoman, be good enough to screen the file marked CeeCeeD Number One-fuel consumption. It's the one I just put on your desk."

Admiral Coetzer nodded for Nicola to do so. Peter sensed that this was no surprise to Dirk. Colonel Watari was clearing his throat and beetling his eyebrows. Peter got the distinct impression that this was not how the Base commander had thought this meeting would proceed. As the file was being beamed to First Base at the same time, all saw the report simultaneously. Colonel Watari's frown deepened, Major Cyberal looked shocked, and Lance gave a long sigh, shifting position so he could rest his chin on his raised hand.

"According to all specifications for a freighter of the CeeCeeD's size and bulk cargo capability," Johnny said, "she should have had enough fuel left on her return to Padrugoi to navigate without problem to her assigned mooring." Figures scrolled down the screen. "Because she was lighter on fuel than the captain realized when he made his first burn, he couldn't make a long enough one to put her on her assigned trajectory. She was off course coming into Padrugoi. What little fuel was left in the thrusters was not enough for her to correct her entry. That was not the first time this has happened to a freighter. Yet the tanks were supposed to be full when the CeeCeeD left Padrugoi outward bound. Captain Maggert knew and did not report the discrepancy. His first mate did. Is that correct, Commander Chatham?"

"It is, sir," Pota Chatham said, standing up and angling her wristcom so she could read from her notes. "The Station has noted similar late arrivals over the past few months. In fact, it's becoming the norm instead of unusual. We have had complaints from the portmaster, too." She turned to the admiral. "You may remember Commander Bernabe's report three months ago on leakage traces discovered during fuel loading. Of course, those tanks were returned as faulty. We've had no report from the suppliers about how such leakages occurred. Nor what is being done to ensure that Padrugoi receives certified full tanks."

"You may recall, Admiral," Johnny said, "that I have mentioned the mass differentiation."

"Mass differentiation?" Georg Fraga asked, surprised.

"Yes, didn't you know? A telekinetic is very much aware of how much mass he or she shifts."

"How?" Fraga asked.

On the First Base screen, Lance sat up again, grinning.

"We keep records of how much thrust is needed for each item logged in for transport," Johnny said with a casual wave of his hand. "And how many calories the telekinetic burns in each lift. That's how we figure cost, you know."

"No, I didn't," said Alicia Taddesse, her expression grim.

Johnny gave a negligent shrug of his shoulder. "I'd be happy to show you our costing equation."

Taddesse looked from Johnny to Fraga and her eyes slid over Peter.

Are they cheating the Station, Johnny? Peter asked.

Someone is. Or at least trying to charge Padrugoi full dollar for sixty cents' worth of fuel. We don't know who. Sometimes only fifty cents gets to us. Welcome to big business and politics, Pete. Easy, lad, don't let them know how this upsets you, and Johnny sent soothing thoughts. This has to be sorted out, now. Especially since we can prove our allegations. Ignore the negative vibes.

"I'd be very interested in how you arrive at your figures, General."

Johnny extracted a pencil file from his breast pocket and kinetically wafted it to the table in front of Taddesse. "No charge for special delivery."

Show-off, Peter said, imaging himself grinning, though he was careful not to let the smile show on his face.

Coetzer and Abubakar had no such reservations.

Just then, a wave of increased mental stress reached Peter. One of the most constant fears of the nonpsychic was that telepaths could read their minds all the time. Why a telepath would want to was rarely considered. Mai Leitao was broadcasting her fear that the general and that awful boy knew "all" about her. Peter promptly turned her off in his head.

Taddesse inserted the file in her notepad and studied it.

"Even after," and the Secretary emphasized the word, "we have put a stop to such shortages, there will not be a significant savings in fuel costs. My office is committed to enlarging First Base as the jump point for the Mars project. We can't have one without the other." Abubakar leaned back in his chair, politely inclining his head to the admiral.

"Padrugoi Station is also committed to both projects. That's why General Greene and Mr. Reidinger are here."

"General Greene is known for his assistance," Abubakar said, and lifted his eyebrows inquiringly.

"Mr. Reidinger taught me all I know," Johnny said.

"The-'Kid' " was what Alicia Taddesse did not say out loud but it hung in the pause that followed. "I find that hard to believe, General."

"Don't," said the admiral. "We have never made public the role Peter Reidinger played in foiling Ludmilla Barchenka's White-Coat Mutiny. Without his timely assistance, you might have had to deal with her on this subject."

Abubakar cleared his throat noisily. "I didn't know."

Alicia Taddesse was surprised, Georg Fraga was dumbfounded, Colonel Watari incredulous, Cyberal curious, and Lance Baden's smile was broad. Peter did not look in Mai Leitao's direction. Some part of him was very pleased with the reactions. But that was not professional and he was going to need all his professionalism to cope with whatever came next.

You're right there, lad, Johnny said.

But he's a kid! Alicia's public mind shouted in denial.

"Mr. Secretary, the security was 'need-to-know.' You need to know that Peter Reidinger was the most important factor in quelling the Mutiny. He was not of an age to be added to the roster of the Parapsychic Center then, but he has been with us now for several years."

"He's the one who, ah,'' and Georg Fraga paused.

"The one who untangled the freighter and put it where it belonged, yes," the admiral said. He gave Peter a grateful nod.

"The general and I worked together," Peter said firmly, deepening his voice to sound older. He noticed that Johnny raised one eyebrow as everyone regarded him.

"Actually, to be truthful, Peter shifted the freighter. I was too busy rounding up containers before they got too far away."

Why did you say that? Peter demanded, trying to keep his face from registering his dismay.

You'll see.

That's what I'm afraid of.

You'll let these mundanes misjudge you?

"He's the strongest telekinetic on Earth," Johnny went on, oblivious to Peter's serious attempt to shut him up. "Right, Lance?"

"Right, General."

"And he's your solution to the fuel cost rise?" Alicia Taddesse demanded simultaneously with the Secretary's excited "He can kinetically reach the Moon from Padrugoi?"

"He already has," Lance put in. "If the colonel will oblige?"

"Oblige? Oblige in what way?" and Watari was suspicious.

"You will remember that we were in urgent need of certain chips, Colonel, on the tenth of May last year?"

"Yes, I do. How did you manage-?" The colonel broke off, goggling first at Lance and then in Peter's direction.

"Would you access that proof of delivery, Cyberal?" Lance asked the major, who bent to an unseen notepad.

"Yes," and the blond officer frowned as the record came up. "Sergeant Gendro collected a bag from the vehicle parking field."

"The third bollard from the right?" asked Johnny.

Peter seethed, felt Johnny raise his shield against him for the first time in their long association.

"Yes, you're correct. How did you know that detail, General?" Cyberal asked.

"That's where I told Peter Reidinger to put it." Johnny waited a moment to allow that information to be absorbed. "You have a time registered for the delivery?"

Cyberal nodded, spoke a few commands, and a window opened up on the conference screen and showed a replica of the May 10 date and early morning hour.

"Very interesting," and Secretary Abubakar gave Peter an approving smile.

That the admiral had not known was obvious to Peter but Coetzer concealed that behind his broad smile.

"The bag only weighed three kilos," Peter said, hoping to forestall what must be inevitable.

"Well," Alicia said with a condescending little smile and twist of her elegantly clad shoulders, "three kilos is scarcely something to brag about."

Peter felt a surge of anger for such belittling.

Hold that thought, Pete, Johnny said so sharply that Peter blinked. While the general's public manner was relaxed and slightly amused, Peter sensed Johnny Greene felt the same way about Taddesse's dismissal as he did.

"Three kilos?" Colonel Watari asked eagerly.

"In point of fact," Lance said in a languid drawl, "we very badly need that shipment from Chipsink." He consulted his wrist pad. "Waybill number 51161708 that cleared Jerhattan terminal at 0845 today. Brought up to Padrugoi with the Secretary's party, I believe."

Commander Chatham was already tapping in the designation. "Yes, we have it on board."

"It weighs five kilos, Peter."

Every eye was on him, and he felt trapped.

Not trapped, Pete. It's just show time for the doubters.

Five kilos today, five hundred tomorrow, five thousand the next day. Peter felt perversely rebellious as well as anxious. He sternly reminded himself that this was what he had dreamed of doing when he was lying in hospital, what he and Johnny had talked about doing. He thought of how he'd just jumped into the accident with the CeeCeeD and did what had to be done, including shifting the freighter out of the way. Everyone was turned toward him, faces friendly and faces decidedly skeptical. He caught the ironic gleam in Johnny's eyes, subtly reminding him of that early morning in Adelaide Center. Damn General Greene for springing it on him without warning. Then he saw Alicia Taddesse's haughty and dubious expression, the stunned incredulity on Georg Fraga's face, the bland query on the Secretary's, and the hint of anxiety in Admiral Coetzer's eyes. Okay, Peter, he said to himself. It is show time. Five kilos! Only a question of mathematics.

"May I see the shipment?" His voice sounded unusually calm for someone about to make history-officially-with the longest distance teleport.

"Certainly, sir," said Chatham, and a window opened to the transit bay, showing an innocuous white plastic shipping carton, #51161708 clearly stenciled in black on the side.

What he could see he could 'port. He "felt" it to heft its mass. He tapped into the ship's generators. Had Johnny warned Engineering to be ready? He didn't much care. He wanted to alter the expressions on the faces of Alicia Taddesse and Georg Fraga. Scare the living daylights, for once and all, out of the stupid, intolerant Mai Leitao, and prove himself to the admiral. And especially to Johnny Greene, who was waiting, all but breathless, to see what Peter would decide.

Peter leaned lightly into the generators; no sense plowing the package into the surface of the Moon. It was only five kilos. He "saw" the bollard as he had "seen" it that morning in Adelaide; he didn't need the shadow of the moon crawler. Been there before. Can do it again. He 'ported the carton.

The tension in the room was palpable. Peter let it sit there for a long moment. First Johnny, then Lance began to smile.

"Lance," Peter said, "since Sergeant Gendro's already collected one delivery at that bollard, perhaps you could rely on him again."

Johnny let out a cowboy roar, clapping his hands over his head and swinging himself around in his chair in an excess of jubilation. The admiral grinned broadly and settled back relieved. Commander Chatham and, in the corner, Nicola Nizukami were also smiling. The Secretary alone appeared to keep his cool but the expression on Alicia Taddesse's face was one of shocked and dismayed surprise.

So she'd thought he couldn't do it? Peter thought, not letting any sign of triumph leak into his expression. He'd shown her! And himself!

At the end of the table, Georg Fraga looked unexpectedly worried and Mai Leitao collapsed across the table, knocking over her glass of water.

"Medic on the double, admiral's conference room," Commander Chatham said into her wristcom. "Yeoman, bring me more water."

Peter rescued Leitao's notepad and lightpen and "lifted" Barney's serving towel to soak up the spill.

"What did you do to her?" Alicia Taddesse demanded of Peter, glaring at him. She had jumped to her feet but made no move to assist her colleague.

"Peter did nothing to Mai Leitao," Johnny replied sharply to the CFO. "She did it to herself."

"How could she-?" Taddesse began and, seeing the fury on the general's face, broke off.

How could she think I'd do anything to another human being? Peter said, close to panic.

Stupidity, Pete. Pure stupidity. Calm down. You have done absolutely nothing wrong today. Nothing!

"Miss Leitao seemed a little unnerved by," the Secretary began, paused, and started again, "by reaching the Station so quickly."

Fraga had his fingers around her limp wrist. "She's got a pulse," he said reassuringly. Commander Chatham touched Leitao's throat and confirmed that with a brief nod. Helpfully, Nicola held out a glass of water.

A discreet tap on the door heralded the arrival of the medical team. Peter was overwhelmingly relieved to see Ceara Scott leading them. She gave him the briefest but most emphatic encouraging nod as she made a quick examination of Mai Leitao.

"She fainted?" she asked in a nonjudgmental tone, looking around the table.

"It would appear so, Dr. Scott," the admiral said. "We have no idea why."

"I'll want to know exactly what caused a perfectly healthy woman to collapse, Doctor," Taddesse said in a gritty voice.

"Of course," Ceara said with a nod of her head, and gestured for the gurney team to approach. Deftly she and ratings transferred the slight limp body to the litter, blanketed it, and left the conference room. Peter didn't know why but Ceara's presence had unaccountably relieved him. "We'll do a full scan as soon as we get the patient to sick bay."

"Thank you," Alicia Taddesse said. She sat down again and moved her notepad into precise alignment with the edge of the table. "Colonel Watari, have you recovered the five kilos?"

"Not yet." The colonel was startled.

"It takes time to suit up, Ms. Taddesse," Lance said. "So where were we?"

"We are nowhere, Mr. Baden, until that sergeant returns with proof of delivery," Taddesse said, closing her lips in a firm line.

"I don't see how you can entertain doubts, Ms. Taddesse," Lance said. "Peter sent it. Ask the CIC engineer what readings he had on the generators."

"What good does that do?" she demanded of Lance.

"I think you failed to assimilate the significance of General Greene's file, Ms. Taddesse," said the admiral in the gentlest of tones, which should have warned the CFO.

"The significance is, if I may, Admiral," the Secretary interrupted, also in a mild tone, "that every telekinetic thrust can be recorded."

"And is, especially here on Padrugoi," Johnny said, a malicious smile on his lips, "so there is scientific proof that kinetic energy has been expended in a gestalt with the Station generators." He waved his hand toward Nicola, back at her workstation. "Please ask Lieutenant Bergkamp to forward the last five minutes of generator usage to our screen."

"Aye, sir," she said with alacrity.

With equal speed, another small window opened on the bottom of the monitor. It displayed readings in three categories, which were described as elapsed time, generators at rest, and usage. The slight surge as Peter made the brief gestalt was duly recorded.

"I don't believe those figures," Taddesse said belligerently.

"And tell me why we should wish to deceive you, Ms. Taddesse?" the admiral asked.

She pointed her finger at Peter, her eyes flashing with anger, incredulity, and fear.

"I cannot, absolutely cannot, believe a boy that young could send even three grams all the way to the Moon. It's over 400,000 kilometers from here!"

"Mathematics, Ms. Taddesse," Johnny said, "which you as a CFO should certainly appreciate. Ten tons of equipment 440 kilos from Earth's surface to Padrugoi or five kilos 400,000 to the Moon. Peter has the range."

"Does boggle the mind," the Secretary remarked tactfully. "But then, the mind, ah, minds," and he nodded apologetically to Johnny Greene, "that could transport some five hundred kilos of personnel carrier from the Earth's surface to Padrugoi this morning do not have to prove themselves to me. It is greatly to the benefit of our entire program, CFO, that the ability is at this moment in time available to us. Otherwise"-his voice softened-"we might have to look for new jobs."

Unconvinced, Alicia Taddesse folded her arms in front of her, her eyes flashing and darting about the conference room, her lips thin with denial.

A comunit blip startled everyone.

"Admiral? Commander de Aruya. Dr. Scott said you wished to be told as soon as we had examined Ms. Leitao. She is conscious and I'm treating her for shock. The MRI scan shows no cerebral damage or cardiac failure. Ms. Leitao is anemic, requires other essential minerals as dietary supplements, and stands in need of a holiday. I would hazard the guess that she's been working much too hard or has been under severe pressure lately. She should be well enough-I beg your pardon." Those listening heard a thin background noise and the doctor had evidently turned away from the comunit, his voice fading. "When you have a private moment, Admiral, I'd like a few words with you."

"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 material 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 openminded. 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.

During that brief exchange, Peter had "felt" the substance of the sensors, mentally examining the volume, as someone would take a cautious taste of unfamiliar food. Most times he didn't need to do any psychic handling since the manifests always told him what he was about to 'port.

"I think it would be wisest for me to deliver them directly to your office, Colonel," Peter said. "Lance, may I have the exact coordinates?"

"Of course, Pete," and yet another window opened at the base of the conference room screen with the lunar location. First Base in Oceanus Procellarum was situated near the Moon's equator at 3?11'40'' south latitude and 23?23'8" longitude.

Take your time, Pete, Johnny said. Aloud he added, "Commander Chatham, you might have one of the standby gigs collect the packaging before someone in the marshaling yard sounds an alarm. It's in, the priority section of the corral."

"Very good, sir."

You can get a direct contact with Bergkamp, Pete.

"Admiral, may I have a direct contact with Engineering," Peter said, hoping he sounded calm. Was it his imagination or did his voice shake a little?

No! was Johnny Greene's firm reassurance.

"Of course," said Dirk Coetzer, his blue eyes decidedly twinkling, "and I think so that we can watch you in action, let's have the engineering station board up on our screen, Pota."

"Very good, sir."

Another window crowded against the others on the bottom of the screen.

"I'm ready," Peter said, wondering if all those on his side were in league to give him more time. "Lance? I'll put the sensors on the worktop behind you." Peter leaned into the gestalt. The surge on the generators' gauges flickered at the highest point and fell back as he eased off to what he now sensed was just the right amount of power required. He tried very hard not to think of the immense distance involved. Only that these sensors, their specific volume, had to be placed elsewhere, on the worktop behind Lance. For a nanosecond he felt Lance's mind, reacting in exultation over this second display of pure, boundless telekinetic power.

"Wait!" That was all the time Colonel Watari had to utter a protest before the teleportation was completed.

"Neatly done," Lance said, grinning from ear to ear as he swung around in his chair to face the delivered package.

With a cry of alarm, Colonel Watari leaped across the room, anxious hands examining it, gesturing for Cyberal to help him remove the one outer plastic sheet of packing so he could assure himself that the sensors had not taken any harm during their unique journey through space.

"I heard only a slither," Lance was saying, and turned back to the screen to those in the Station conference room. "Excellent, Pete."

"Would you be in need of a midmorning snack, Mr. Reidinger?" Secretary Abubakar asked with attentive courtesy. "To replace the calories you just burned up?"

"That's very kind of you, sir," Peter replied, inclining his head graciously to the Secretary. "Yes, thank you."

"I think we are all in need of sustenance," the admiral said, and raised his voice. "Barney?"

Okay there, Pete? Johnny asked. "A marvelous idea!" he added aloud.

"Could we have a reading on the-" Fraga began, looking at Peter beside him, his fingers still steepled together. Alicia Taddesse was apparently deprived of speech; she sat staring at the space where the three sensors had been. "The gestalt. Is that what you call it, Mr. Reidinger?"

"I use a gestalt, Mr. Fraga," Peter said. "What the Engineering records tell us is how much generator power was involved in the teleport."

"I see."

I wonder if he really does appreciate the distinction, Johnny remarked. You're tired, Pete. No more showing off today. Got me?

Showing off? Me? Peter imaged himself with a huge mouth, lower lip drooping to the floor. Johnny gave a smug mental chuckle.

Admiral Coetzer suggested that perhaps they should end the conference on this good note. Peter could see that the colonel was tight strung with the desire to get the sensors into place. Lunar quakes were a constant hazard to new construction. Watari was certainly more than polite when he efficiently went off-line. The admiral and the Secretary exchanged grins.

Teleportations or schedules were not even discussed during the break. Before the proceedings at Padrugoi ended, the Secretary had dropped the formal Mr. Reidinger and was calling him Peter. Georg Fraga seemed anxious. One of those, Peter thought, who did not realize that parapsychics were still people, with minds that worked differently. Alicia Taddesse confined her remarks to agreeing with her superior or the admiral. She did request a report on Mai Leitao. The senior medical officer responded that Ms. Leitao was in a deep and restful sleep.

"I can 'port her," Johnny offered, "to whatever destination you suggest? The infirmary at your headquarters, perhaps."

Taddesse reared back in her chair, scowling. "Not when we know that she's terrified of teleportation."

"She needn't know," replied the general with a shrug. "You can tell her she was brought down from the Station on a regular transport. Which is no lie since I regularly 'port personnel downside."

"Commander de Aruya recommended that she have immediate treatment for her, ah, malnutrition," the Secretary said, "and a holiday."

"There's not another regular, self-powered shuttle going down for a week," the admiral put in, his expression solicitous. "She need never know."

"I think that's wisest, Alicia," Fraga said earnestly.

"We can ask the medic at Headquarters Infirmary to keep her sedated overnight. She obviously needs the rest. I hadn't realized I was working her so hard," Abubakar said, his expression anxious.

"She's meticulous in the performance of her duties," Taddesse said in a low voice.

"I'm sure," the Secretary murmured. He rose, offering his hand to the admiral, who got to his feet. Then he approached Peter.

"Mr. Reidinger," and he grinned over the formal title, "Peter, I am deeply grateful for your willingness to extend yourself. You must tell me quite frankly if we overwork you at any point."

"I will, sir."

If you don't, I will, Pete, Johnny said, also rising. There is no way I'm going to allow anyone to risk skeleteam.

Except you! Peter tried to keep his tone jesting.

Johnny gave him a very long thoughtful look. Especially me. Then he broke mental contact to stride around the table, helping Fraga collect Leitao's possessions.