Pegasus in Space (Talent Series #3)by Anne McCaffrey
In a triumphant career spanning more than thirty years, Anne McCaffrey has won the acclaim of critics, the devotion of millions of fans, and awards too numerous to mention. Her bestselling Dragonriders of Pern® series is counted among the masterpieces of modern science fiction, a work whose popularity continues to grow as new generations of readers discover the… See more details below
In a triumphant career spanning more than thirty years, Anne McCaffrey has won the acclaim of critics, the devotion of millions of fans, and awards too numerous to mention. Her bestselling Dragonriders of Pern® series is counted among the masterpieces of modern science fiction, a work whose popularity continues to grow as new generations of readers discover the literary magic only Anne McCaffrey can provide. Now that magic is back, displayed as breathtakingly as ever in the exciting and long-awaited addition to McCaffrey's classic Pegasus series—and the perfect link to her bestselling Tower and Hive saga . . .
PEGASUS IN SPACE
For an overpopulated Earth whose resources are strained to the breaking point, there is only one place to look for relief: straight up. With the successful completion of the Padrugoi Space Station, humanity has at last achieved its first large-scale permanent presence in space. Additional bases are feverishly being built on the Moon and on Mars, stepping stones to the greatest adventure in all history: the colonization of alien worlds. Already long-range telescopes have identified a number of habitable planets orbiting the stars of distant galaxies. Now it's just a question of getting there.
But there are those who, for selfish motives of their own, want Padrugoi and the other outposts to fail. People who will stop at nothing to maintain their power or to revenge its loss. Standing in their way are the Talented, men and women gifted with extraordinary mental powers that have made them as feared as they are respected—and utterly indispensable to the colonization effort.
There is Peter Reidinger, a teenage paraplegic who happens to be the strongest telekinetic ever, his mind capable of teleporting objects and people thousands of miles in the blink of an eye. Yet all his power cannot repair his damaged spine or allow him to feel the gentle touch of a loved one . . . Rhyssa Owen, the powerful telepath and mother hen to Peter and the rest of her "children"—and a fierce, unrelenting fighter against the prejudice that would deny the Talented the right to lead happy and productive lives . . . and Amariyah, an orphan girl who loves two things in the world above all others: gardening and Peter Reidinger. And woe to anyone who harms either one of them—for the young girl's talent may prove to be the most amazing of all.
Now, as sabotage and attempted murder strike the Station, it's up to the Talented to save the day. Only who's going to save the Talented?
The New York Times Book Review
Read an Excerpt
As Peter Reidinger was teleporting in gestalt with the huge Jerhattan Power Station to bring the kinetics down from Padrugoi Space Station to Dhaka, an exhausted group of men and women were trying to reach the shelter of the nearest shomiti. With the bundles they had snatched from their homes before escaping the breached levees, they staggered to higher ground along the muddy banks of the Jamuna River. They had to scramble to bridge the gaps in the levee mounds that, in places, were sliding into the Jamuna's torrent. Despite Herculean efforts by the government and the local administrators in the Rajshahi Division, the levees had not supplied the longed-for protection to those living along its banks.
Anger at the "authorities" consumed Zahid Idris Miah and sustained him as he slogged at the head of the group from his bari, flashing the long-life light ahead of him. In the gloom of this monsoon, the tool at least kept them from slithering into places where the Jamuna had chewed ravines into the levee bank in its rush to the sea. He devoutly mumbled prayers to Iswah that this tool was truly a "long-life" torch. He half expected it to fade out now, when it was most needed, like so many other items that came to his small bari south of Sir¯ajganj as Rajshahi Division tried to--what was the ingraji word?--"upgrade" him and the other jute farmers.
They should have kept a close watch on the levees in this storm. They should have worked more diligently to reinforce the collecting lakes along the Jamuna River. They had promised to do so, to keep more of Bangladesh from sliding beneath the Bay. He vaguely knew that a great new engineering process that had kept some city in Italia from drowning had been adapted to keep the Bay of Bengal from inundating the coastal regions near the mouth of the Padma. Much land had been lost along the seacoast in spite of the efforts of many, very gifted engineers. The once inland city of Khulna was now protected by the great Dike, which had been erected three decades ago. Barisal City was also ringed south and east by the Ocean Dikes, invented by yet other westerners who had been determined to keep their land from drowning. Those islands that had once dotted the Bay of Bengal: Bhola, Hatiya, and Sondwip--where the Meghna River flowed into the Bay--had been inundated and the people saved only by the massive efforts of the World Relief Organization.
He had heard that the islands of Kutubdia and Maheskhali, near Cox's Bazar were also gone, and the tip of Chittagong. As Zahid had never been farther from his bari than Sir¯ajganj, these places might as well have been in Great India or Meriki. What had happened to those who had helped before? Had they, like so many others, deserted the Bangla in their hours of need? He wiped the sudden spurt of wind-driven rain from his face. Were they tired of rescuing poor Bangladeshi? He wasn't surprised; who cared, but Iswah, what happened to the poor? The wind smacked at his lean, work-honed frame again and he slid on the mud, the light briefly aimed to his right.
Was that debris now bobbing along on the swift flowing current the plants he had struggled so to keep watered during the dry season? There was always too much of everything--Iswah be praised, he added quickly--when it wasn't needed. The Jamuna had irrigated his fields but this was overdoing it.
"Where be those who aid? Curses be on their names and every generation of them!" Zahid roared above the wind, waving about both hands, making the torchlight stab about the darkness.
Behind him, Jamila wailed, berating her husband. "Do not wave our light about so! How am I seeing where to put my feet? If it falls from your hand, how will we be seeing where dry land is?" She had hiked up her sari, its sodden, muddy hem banging against her thin calves. He had already reprimanded her several times for her immodesty.
"Hush, woman. Rafiq and Rahim have torches. Watch your sari that you do not tempt Ayud Bondha." To emphasize his displeasure in her demeanor, he lengthened his stride, sweeping the ray of light in front of him to see where he was going. This disgruntled him more, for it might appear to her that he was heeding her complaint.
"How far to go now, Zahid?" Salma, Ayud Bondha's young wife, cried in ragged gasps. She had to shout above the wind noise. She was many months pregnant with her firstborn, and clumsy. Ayud was half carrying her, both of them slipping about in the thick mud.
Zahid didn't like Salma. As a young girl, she had been chosen from her village to go to the school to learn to read and write and do sums. Because of that, she did not efface herself, as a proper woman should, speaking out often in the shomiti with unseemly disregard of custom. Ayud Bondha always indulged her, smiling and doing nothing to discipline her, as a husband should.
"We will be seeing shomiti lights soon," Zahid said and sent his beam ahead of them, squinting to see any glimmer from their destination. Shomiti were still built on heavy concrete pillars, thanks be to Iswah, so their shelter remained above the flooded lands. There would be light cylinders--also of the long-life variety--hung on the corners of the covered veranda to show refugees their way through the day's darkness, wind, and rain.
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