Pantheon - Michael Jan Friedman [14]
“That depends,” Tarasco replied.
“On what?”
“Now that we know about Agnarsson’s ESP, is there a chance that we can use that knowledge to change him back?”
“Honestly?” said Gorvoy. “I don’t think so.”
“Then you don’t want to know what happens now.”
Gorvoy was a physician. He had taken an oath not to hurt anyone. And yet, he couldn’t argue with the captain’s position.
“Hollandsworth was wrong,” he found himself saying. “We weren’t just lashing out at Agnarsson. He really is a monster.”
Tarasco didn’t say anything in response. Obviously, he wasn’t especially comfortable with the task ahead of him. But who could be?
“Get some rest,” he told the doctor.
“I’ll try,” said Gorvoy. But with what he had to think about, he didn’t believe he would be very successful at it.
Security Chief Pelletier saw the engineer stir on the other side of the barrier. Glancing at his watch, he made note of the elapsed time.
An hour and eighteen minutes.
According to Rudolph, the drug he administered would have kept a normal man unconscious for seven or eight hours. Of course, Pelletier reflected bleakly, Agnarsson was anything but a normal man.
He glanced over his shoulder at Marciulonis. “Contact the captain,” he said. “Let him know that Agnarsson’s coming to.”
“Aye, sir,” Marciulonis replied, and tapped the bulkhead pad that activated the intercom system.
Pelletier turned back to the prisoner and saw that his eyes were open. What’s more, they were staring in the security chief’s direction.
“You’re a fool if you think you can hold me,” said Agnarsson.
“Then I’m a fool,” Pelletier answered. “But if you were in my place, you’d be doing the same thing.”
That made the engineer smile. “No,” he said, his voice echoing, “that’s not true at all. If I were in your place, I would have killed me some time ago…while I still had the chance.”
The security chief didn’t say that that was still the plan. He didn’t even dare to think it.
“You’re keeping something from me,” Agnarsson observed. “Something you don’t think I’ll like.”
There was no point in denying it—not when he was dealing with a telepath. So Pelletier remained silent.
“You can plot all you want,” said the man with the silver eyes. “It won’t do you any good. I’m getting stronger all the time.”
Suddenly, Agnarsson took a step forward, as if to attack the security chief. As Pelletier jumped backward, fumbling at his hip for his pistol, the engineer laughed.
“Soon I’ll be strong enough to grab you for real,” he said.
And as if to prove his point, he extended his hand into the vertical plane of the electromagnetic field.
Sparks sputtered around Agnarsson’s wrist, making him grimace with pain. But he didn’t pull his hand back right away. He left it there, enduring what no mere human could have endured.
Finally, the prisoner staggered backward and cradled his hand. He looked weakened by the experience, even a little humbled. But then, Pelletier told himself, Agnarsson had been weakened before, and he had come back stronger than ever.
The engineer tilted his head, considering the security chief as if he had never noticed him before. “You know,” he noted almost casually, “it’s only a matter of time.”
It was then that Pelletier noticed the patches of white at Agnarsson’s temples. The man’s appearance was changing again.
“I’ve notified the captain,” Marciulonis told his superior. “He says he’s almost finished.”
Pelletier didn’t take his eyes off the prisoner as he responded. He didn’t put his pistol away either.
“Tell Captain Tarasco to hurry,” said the security chief. “We may not have much more time.”
Captain’s log, supplemental. I’m sending out this message buoy despite my hope that we of the Valiant will still make it back to Earth. The buoy contains all our computer data from the past several days, which will explain how we wound up in these unfortunate straits…and why I’ve opted for such a drastic response to them.
Tarasco tapped a square, orange stud on his armrest, terminating his log entry. Then, glancing