Pantheon - Michael Jan Friedman [13]
“How’s Gorvoy?” the captain asked.
“Sleeping,” the medic told him, unable to keep from stealing a glance at Agnarsson. “But he’ll be all right. He just needs a little rest.”
Tarasco nodded. “I’m glad to hear it.”
“Me too,” said Coquillette. “I just hope he doesn’t sleep too long. I don’t think I could stand the suspense.”
For a moment, the captain didn’t know what she was talking about. After all, he had had plenty to think about in the last few minutes. Then he remembered. “That’s right…Gorvoy’s theory.”
“It was more than a theory,” the medic insisted. “He told me he had figured out why Agnarsson and the others were affected by the phenomenon…and also why Agnarsson was the only one who survived it.”
“Did he give you any details?”
She shook her head ruefully. “He couldn’t. Agnarsson overheard us at that point and interrupted.”
Tarasco sighed. “I’d love to know what Gorvoy came up with.”
“He might have made some notes,” Coquillette suggested.
“Or crunched some numbers,” the captain agreed. “Either way, there would be a record of it in the database.”
He tapped a bulkhead pad to activate the intercom. “Tarasco to Gardenhire,” he said into the grid below the pad.
“Gardenhire here. How’s everything going down there, sir?”
“Agnarsson’s under control,” the captain assured him. “I’ve got a job for you, Lieutenant. I’d like you to see if you can find a file the doctor was working on when he was attacked. It had something to do with the victims of the phenomenon.”
“Will do, sir,” came Gardenhire’s response. “I’ll let you know as soon as I find something.”
“Thanks,” said Tarasco. “Captain out.” He turned to Coquillette. “It shouldn’t be long before we know something.”
Coquillette glanced at Agnarsson again. The man hadn’t stirred yet from his drug-induced stupor.
“Great,” she said. “The sooner we know something about our friend there, the sooner we can help him.”
Tarasco wished he could be as optimistic as the medic was.
Jack Gorvoy had treated any number of crew members in his sickbay since the day the Valiant left Earth.
However, he himself hadn’t previously spent any time in one of his beds. And now that he had spent some time there, he didn’t like it—especially after he heard what Tarasco had to tell him.
“The file was lost?” the doctor echoed, his voice still a little weak.
“It looks that way,” said the captain. “And under the circumstances, I have to entertain the possibility that it wasn’t a mechanical failure.”
Gorvoy looked at him. “Agnarsson.”
“Why not? If he can take over the helm, it’s child’s play to wipe out a little computer data.”
“But why?” asked the medical officer. “He knew I’d be able to tell you about it as soon as I regained consciousness.”
Tarasco smiled a sickly smile. “Maybe he didn’t believe you were going to do that.”
It wasn’t a comforting thought. “Maybe,” said Gorvoy.
“Or maybe he was just acting out of anger,” the captain suggested, “throwing some kind of tantrum. Fortunately, it doesn’t matter one way or the other. You have regained consciousness.”
The doctor could still feel a dull ache where he had hit his head. “If you can call it that.”
“So what did you come up with?” the other man asked.
Gorvoy frowned. “Extrasensory perception.”
Tarasco looked at him. “That’s it?”
“That’s it. Mind you, not all of our seven casualties were tested for it, but three were—Agnarsson, Davidoff, and Kolodny. Davidoff and Kolodny scored pretty high…but Agnarsson? He was off the charts.”
The captain shook his head. “You know what? It makes sense.”
“That someone with a predisposition toward mental abilities would develop Agnarsson’s brand of powers? I’d have to agree,” said the doctor. “I just wish I had thought of the connection sooner.”
“What about the rest of the crew?” asked Tarasco. “Are we going to have any delayed cases?”
“I don’t think so,” Gorvoy told him. “Of the thirty-eight whose records show they were tested, none showed any particular talent for ESP.”
“Thank heavens for that, at least.”
“You can say that again,” said the medical