Part 35 (1/2)

”I'm here with it,” and Ca.s.s tried to focus on the red-haired woman pressing a hypospray against her arm. The woman grinned up at Ca.s.s. ”Let's get you out of here.”

Ca.s.s felt the surge of sympathy and understanding from her as Shandin carried her out of that cubicle and into the adjacent one where she was lifted onto the narrow bed.

Ceara's an empath, Ca.s.s, Shandin said. He, too, was broadcasting rea.s.surance. Shandin said. He, too, was broadcasting rea.s.surance.

That's my job, Ca.s.s replied. Ca.s.s replied.

Not right now, it isn't, Shandin said as Ceara attached a monitor to Ca.s.s's finger. Shandin said as Ceara attached a monitor to Ca.s.s's finger.

Ca.s.s agreed.

Peter did not feel the least remorse when he and Johnny were informed that Flimflam had died of a poisoned knife thrust. He had more important matters on his mind. He was struggling with his a.n.a.lysis of the data he needed from the reams of use-energy printouts, both for himself and Johnny. He wasn't nearly as tired as he had made out after the second day of scheduled 'ports to First Base. But he used that excuse. He wasn't exactly sure what data he hoped to extract and gave up after two hours. There were two jobs he needed to do; the a.n.a.lysis was only one. Equally important in his mind was re-creating the ”South America” discoloration with which he would fool Johnny into 'porting all the way to First Base.

Let's rid him of his self-imposed limitations, Peter muttered to himself as he accessed the draw program on his worktop. Gradually he worked up the sketch, with the corner of the part.i.tion window and the control worktop and the cabinets beneath. He got the color tones as well, including the opaque smokiness of the window. The general image resembled facilities that Johnny had probably 'ported to many times, save for that distinctive splotch and the angle of window and worktop. Making the visual wasn't anywhere near as easy as he thought it would be. He could hold a lightpen but he didn't have the fine muscle control needed for minute changes, although he seemed to have finally got the hang of using the device. Possibly he was inspired by this means to the end he desired. He grinned. He stared at the visual, adjusting proportions, adjusting colors, adjusting until his eyes watered. The image had to be perfect so Johnny would see it distinctly enough to 'port to it. After all, there was only one spot in this solar system that was identical: in the observatory office on First Base.

Yawning several times in succession made him check the time and he found that he'd spent nearly three hours on the project. But he was reasonably satisfied with it. He wished he had a visual but the notion of using ”South America” had come after he'd been to the astronomy office. He'd check his imaging again in the morning. The muscle between his last two fingers on his right hand was twitching again. It didn't hurt. Of course, it couldn't. He had no feeling in his hands, even if the skin was jumping about from some sort of a tic. Maybe he'd better see a medic. Maybe he could see Ceara. He could call her to his room. No, he couldn't call a woman to his cabin even if she was a qualified doctor. Seeing her in a professional capacity was permissible, wasn't it? He yawned again. And put himself to bed.

He was up, had changed his appliance, showered, and dressed before he felt Johnny's mind touch his.

I'm up, I'm up, he said.

You sound revoltingly chipper.

Peter grinned. Johnny sounded as if he were hung over.

Had breakfast?

Shut up and eat yours now so I don't have to smell it. Barney's waiting for you in the conference room. Tell him I'll need plenty of fresh coffee. And stress the 'fresh.' A pause. A pause. Please. Please.

Sure thing!

Johnny arrived well after Peter had finished his meal. Peter had had time to transfer the image of ”South America” to the conference room files, securing it with his personal code. The moment Johnny arrived, Barney appeared, ready with the coffee, which he placed before the general as well as hard copy of the day's teleportation list.

”You know,” Peter said casually, ”we could go into business for ourselves. T and T.”

”Huh?”

Peter waited until Johnny had had a few sips of the hot, fresh coffee. It even smelled good to Peter.

”Telepaths and Teleporters, Incorporated, or Limited because there's really only three of us strong kinetics. I include Lance.”

”Good of you,” Johnny mumbled, both hands on the cup, elbows on the table. He wasn't really hearing anything yet.

Peter ”reached” for the day's schedule and unfolded the sheet, laying the hardcopy flat. ”Did we hear confirmation of receipt from First Base?”

Johnny nodded and then clutched at his head. ”Yeah.”

”And they've cleared the telepad?”

”Yeah.”

”I wouldn't want to dump some of today's heavy stuff on yesterday's fragile s.h.i.+pments.”

”You won't.”

Peter checked the items a second time, looking at the ma.s.s and descriptions. ”Not a bad day's work. I think I'll start with some heavy stuff.”

”Be my guest.”

”Who did this to you? The admiral?”

”Who else, considering we're not here to anyone else,” Johnny said, and took another swallow. ”Great coffee, Barney.”

”Thank you, sir. If I am no longer required?”

”Bring Pete a high-calorie snack about ten, would you, Barney?”

”Of course, sir. And please secure the door behind me, General,” he added apologetically.

”Yeah, s'okay, Barney.”

As soon as the door closed behind the quiet steward, Peter threw on the lock.

”I'll just a.s.semble the first stuff,” Peter said. ”Oh, and there're a few things for us to s.h.i.+ft downside, too. Shall I save them for you?” If he set a pattern today, it would be easier to slip in the one he wanted Johnny to do. But not when he had a hangover.

”I'll get to them later, Pete.” Johnny cleared his throat and finished that cup of coffee.

”I'll fill, Johnny. You might burn yourself,” Peter said kindly. Johnny shot him a caustic glance but held his cup out. Peter 'ported the carafe over and filled the cup.

”Thanks. Don't ever drink, kid. Not really worth it.”

”I'll remember that.”

Johnny slumped over his coffee while Peter organized the first send. He would have to be patient for his Great Experiment. He wanted Johnny in his full senses as much to do the 'port as to appreciate what was possible! First the Moon, then Mars, and then . . .? Peter's heart leapt within his chest with excitement.

”Don't forget the sensors, Pete,” Johnny had enough presence of mind to say.

As well he hadn't already put them on, Peter thought, or maybe palpitations of antic.i.p.ation didn't register on monitors. He could attach the pads to himself but it took time. And once again he saw his hand muscles spasm and had an odd sensation in his fingertips. From residual electricity in the pads? He really must resume his Reeve Board exercises. With Flimflam dead, and undoubtedly some sort of confession from the a.s.sa.s.sin, surely their return could be officially announced! And he could arrange for some telescope time. He had to know if his notion was feasible.

”I'm wired,” he announced to Johnny and, setting his mind to the gestalt, made the day's first transfer to the main depot at First Base. ”That was almost easy,” he added, though it hadn't been all that easy. He just wanted to imply that, preparing the ground for Johnny.

”Don't sound so cheerful.”

”Why shouldn't I? Flimflam's dead and they'll find out more from his a.s.sa.s.sin.”

”No, they won't,” Johnny said. ”Like all well-programmed a.s.sa.s.sins he suicided.”