While I'm working on the next part of Mother's Day, here is the next part of Symbiote:
Symbiote: 4/?
by Nancy Smith and Linda Garrick
IV
As they unlocked their room's door and entered, a small, unidentified creature scuttled from the center of the bare floor, to vanish under the stove. A chorus of squeaks sounded, followed by a scuffling noise. Mark grimaced.
"Looks like we got a couple o' uninvited roommates. Listen; before we hit the sack, I'd like to test out some o' those talents o' yours. I've watched the Jils, an' I got a few clues t'understandin' how psychic powers work." He dragged a small table away from the wall and set the room's two rickety-looking wooden chairs beside it. "Siddown."
Alan obeyed, and Linley sat across from him. "Okay. Tell me, what did you feel when you yanked the blaster outta that guy's hand?"
"Feel? What do you mean?"
"Did you feel any different?"
Alan thought. "I don't really remember. I was awfully desperate to get the thing. I ... I didn't really notice."
"I ain't really surprised," Mark said. "You sorta had other things on your mind. How about when I dropped my blaster and it flew right to you? Do you remember how you felt then?"
He shook his head. "I don't remember feeling anything. I really don't see how these powers can *ever* be controlled. They operate completely by instinct as far as I can tell."
"They can be, though. The Jils control 'em, an' so do the psychics from the Terran Underground. Those guys are really good."
Alan frowned, recalling something. "Remember when I escaped from you back on Midgard and fell in that pit?"
"How could I forget? What about it?"
"I think I may have used telekinesis then, too. You'd tied me awfully well -- I could just barely touch the knots with the tips of my fingers. I was straining toward them, when suddenly they were loose. Do you suppose I --"
"Sure sounds like it. You got a terrific ability, there. All you gotta do now is figure out how to control it." He took a fractional credit coin from his pocket and placed it on the table before Alan. "See if you can move that."
Alan stared at the coin. "I don't know how."
"Try," Mark urged. "Think o' the thing an' try t'make it lift. Make imaginary mental fingers, close 'em around it an' pick it up." Mark's face was serious. "You can do it. You already *have*."
"All right," Alan said, doubtfully. He frowned, trying to obey Linley's instructions. Carefully, he envisioned the fingers and reached toward the coin. He wanted to succeed, to prove to himself that he could control his strange abilities, but above all else, he wanted to make Mark proud of him. He had shown up so dismally today in everything else. In fact, when it came to Terrans, he really didn't have much going for him. He was little, for one thing, and shy, and young, and inexperienced. And yet Mark -- Strike Commander Linley of the Viceregal Patrol -- had thrown away a ten-year career and risked his life to save young, green, little Alan Westover. So, he must be worth something. Now if he could just prove it ...
He concentrated, staring at the coin. Nothing happened. He kept at it, feeling sweat start to trickle down his neck. He must do it!
Mark reached across the table and rested a hand on his shoulder. "Relax. Don't try so hard. It ain't the end o' the world if you don't do it."
"Sure, I know." Alan smiled a little self-consciously. "I just --"
"You *can* do it, though," Mark said. "I know it. I wouldn't be walkin' around today if you couldn't. We'd both be dead. Try again."
Alan tried. Again, he formed the mental fingers and reached. Under the edge of the coin and lift.
Nothing.
He *must* do it! With his psychic abilities bridled, their chances would be far better ...
The coin twitched.
"That's it." Mark's voice was soft.
The coin twitched again. Very slowly, it tilted on one edge and rolled two centimeters toward Mark. It paused.
"You got it now," Mark said.
With tantalizing slowness, the coin lifted, paused, then drifted gently across the table toward Mark. Linley held out his hand and the coin landed neatly in his palm.
"*Good* kid!" Mark said. He tossed the coin back.
Alan stared at the coin with a feeling of unreality. "Wow!"
Mark grinned. "That was great! No kiddin', you never knew you could do these things before?"
"I sure didn't. Won a few silly contests, and that was all."
"It was enough." Linley got up and circled the table to stand behind him. "Y'know, I felt somethin' strange when you moved the thing."
"What?"
"I dunno how t'explain it. Funny feelin', like my stomach was queasy suddenly, only not really. Try it again."
Alan set the coin on the table and reached toward it with his mind, more confidently, this time. The result was surprising. The coin flipped smartly upward and Mark grabbed it out of the air. "Man!"
"Gosh," Alan said. "I didn't expect it to be so easy this time."
"You're learnin'. I felt the same thing again, too. Wonder if I'm somehow sensitive to your usin' psychic energy."
"Did you ever feel like that when the Jilectans were using their psychic powers?"
Linley shook his head. "Don't think so. Wanna try it again?"
"Sure." Alan reached for the coin.
"Let's try somethin' bigger this time." Mark glanced around, then turned and went into the bathroom, reappearing a moment later with a glass beer bottle in one hand. "See if you can lift this." He set it on the table and sat down again.
Alan tried. It was harder than he'd expected and he strained, reaching for the container. It tipped suddenly and fell over, rolling across the tabletop. Mark caught it, setting it upright once more.
"A blaster's heavier than this thing. Try again."
Alan clenched his jaw and concentrated. The bottle wobbled almost at once, lifted gradually from the table and hovered in the air. Alan began to smile, moving it in slow, careful circles. Mark got up and came around the table toward him, and abruptly, the bottle shot toward the ceiling in a long, curving arc. It smashed against the plaster. Glass rained around them.
"Sorry," Alan said. "I thought I was controlling it okay."
Linley brushed shards of glass from his hair. "You're tired an' so am I. Let's hit the hay. We gotta big day ahead of us, tomorrow."
"Okay." Alan knelt to pick up the broken glass. Mark helped him.
"I think you're doin' great," Mark said. "Really great. You'll be a pro before long."
"Thanks." Alan felt a glow of pride.
**********
Alan opened his eyes. The room was dark, except for a faint glow filtering in through the room's single window. All was very still, the steady patter of the falling rain a lulling sound in the night.
He lay rigid, nervousness crawling on his scalp. Something was definitely brewing, but what it might be, he couldn't imagine. There was danger in the air, like an electrical tingle on his skin.
Mark lay inches away on the other cot, snoring softly, obviously unaware of anything amiss. Slowly, and very quietly, Alan reached toward him and touched his arm. "Mark," he breathed, very softly.
Muscles tensed beneath his fingers and Linley's eyes opened. Alan could see the faint light reflecting from his eyes as Linley turned toward him. "Yeah?" Mark's whisper came in return.
"Something's wrong."
Linley's hand slid beneath his pillow and emerged clutching his blaster. "What is it?"
"I don't know ..." There was a soft click. The door swung open with a tiny squeal of hinges, and Alan felt his heart leap as a shadowy figure entered the room. Against the lighter darkness of the corridor beyond, he caught a glimpse of the intruder's profile. It was strange and irregular -- grotesque. The Arcturian?
A soft pop sounded, and an instant later there was the hum of a stunbolt. Alan scrambled forward, trying to get to his feet. The hurt ankle tangled in the bed-clothing and he gave an involuntary gasp of pain.
Drowsiness rushed over him. He tried to fight it back, vaguely aware of footsteps somewhere far away, and of Mark's voice shouting his name. In the distance, there was a loud bang.
**********
Someone was bending over him, and water trickled in his upturned face. Alan blinked, becoming abruptly aware of his surroundings. He pushed himself up and had to drop back again as his head swam.
"You awake?" Mark asked.
Alan lifted his hands to his face. He felt strange, and the room had a disturbing tendency to list sideways, even when he held still.
Mark leaned closer, frowning. "You okay?"
"Yeah." Alan rubbed his face and pushed himself up more slowly. "What happened?"
"Sneak thief. Guy dropped a sleep pellet, an' you musta got a whiff o' the stuff. Feelin' better now?"
"Some." Alan turned his head carefully and saw the man's body on the floor. "Is he okay?"
"I stunned him. He'll be wakin' up in about five minutes or so. No doubt the word got around about the little ragamuffin with a pocketful o' cash."
"Don't," Alan said. "I feel awful stupid about it."
Linley grinned. "I'll never mention it again. Look, we gotta get ridda this guy."
The warning hit him suddenly and he turned quickly toward the door with an inarticulate sound. Mark had bent over the prostrate thief, but at Alan's warning he straightened up, his blaster instantly out. The door opened quietly and the Arcturian waiter entered.
For a moment, the scene held static, Alan on his tumbled cot and Mark in a half-crouch, his blaster leveled at the newcomer. Then, the Arcturian reached behind him and deliberately closed the door.
"I heard a noisse from my room across ze corridor," he stated. "I zought zere might be trouble. May I help you, shentlemen?"
Alan slid his feet to the floor, glancing quickly at Mark. The former patrolman had not moved, his blaster centered on the being's midriff. Alan cleared his throat. "This man broke into our room."
The Arcturian inclined his head. "Sso I ssee. A zief, no doubt, and I would ssay zat you do not want zee auzzoritiess involved wiz ziss incident --"
"Yeah," Mark said, slowly. "You're right about that."
"Zen let me rid you of ziss intruder." The Arcturian bent over the thief, bringing the limp body to a sitting position, and removed the mask. "Zere will be no quesstionss assked, I assure you ..." He rested a dagger-like retractile claw on the man's windpipe. Alan gave a sharp gasp and saw Mark glance toward him.
"Just a minute," Linley said. "It's pretty clear you know who we are, and it's also pretty clear you're on our side. I wanna know why."
The Arcturian's crest lifted slightly. "Do *you*, Sstrike Commander, need to assk why an Arcturian will not help zee Shilss?"
Mark grinned slightly. "You gotta good point there. All right, what're you gonna do with the guy?"
The alien glanced at the slumped figure. "Kill him, I ssuppose." He started to heave the limp form to his shoulders. "I will take him to my room, sslit hiss zroat and toss him out zee window."
"No!" Alan cried.
Once more the crest raised, and the Arcturian allowed the man to slip to the floor again. "Iss he an acquaintance or ssomezing? Ziss man wass trying to rob you."
"He's an empath," Mark said. "Thanks for the offer, but don't kill the guy, okay?"
The Arcturian shrugged, Terran fashion. "Very well, if you inssisst." He turned to Alan and again the needle teeth flashed. "May I congratulate you upon your hisstoric deed, ssir. I wass mosst pleassed to hear of it."
Alan returned the smile. "Thank you."
The thief groaned. Mark casually drew his blaster and stunned him again.
"I musst go," the Arcturian said. He boosted the thief to his shoulders.
"What's your name?" Alan asked.
The Arcturian paused, favoring him once again with that grisly smile. "I should like to tell you, ssir, but if you were to be captured by zee Shils and interrogated, my name would ssertainly come out. I would not like zat."
"It'd come out anyway," Mark said. "They'd find out about the waiter in the coffee shop and take it from there."
"Ah, yess, but zee process of elimination would be longer. Zere are zree ozzer Arcturian waiters in zee coffee shop." Again the fanged grin. "Accept my help, but assk no quesstionss, pleasse. It hass been a great pleassure." He opened the door, checked carefully, and departed, the unconscious thief over his shoulders. The door closed behind him.
Mark looked at Alan. "You are one helluva burglar alarm, kiddo."
Alan smiled and shifted sideways on the bunk, hanging his feet over the side. "My eyes feel funny. What happened?"
"Sleepin' pellet, like I said before. I saw he was wearin' a gas mask, so when he dropped the pellet, I held my breath and stunned him. You'd got a whiff o' the stuff and were out cold, so I jumped up and opened the window. Listen ..." He paused uncertainly.
"Yes, Mark?"
Linley was frowning. "It's really hard for me to understand why you never noticed these abilities o' yours before. I mean --" Again, he paused. "I mean, I believe you, all right, but you're good -- really good. Better'n a lotta Jils I know, an' you ain't even trained!"
Alan was silent a moment, thinking.
"You're right," he said, at last. "I wasn't this good -- not before that business on Midgard. Little flashes of insight, and not much else. I was always lucky, but ... well ... it really seems to have gotten stronger all at once."
Mark was watching him, and looked as puzzled as he felt. "Y'don't suppose you just sorta came of age all of a sudden an' started learnin' -- like growin' a beard or somethin'? Damn! This is frustratin'! I don't really *know* enough about Terran psychics. I'm an expert on the Jils, an' ignorant when it comes to my own people!"
"The warnings on Midgard varied in strength," Alan said, helpfully. "When that first dinosaur was coming, Mac had me in an armhold. I remember sensing it suddenly, like a flash of light. And when the second one appeared -- the one that went by us -- I sensed it well ahead of time. But the pit creature was different. I didn't have much warning, and what I did have was so weak that I thought I was imagining things."
Mark appeared to be thinking, his brow furrowed. "There don't seem to be any real connection ..." He paused. "Was it hard t'read ol' Willie Parks?"
"You mean read his mind? I can't read minds!"
"Well, you sure got empathic talents, an' you're usin' 'em without even tryin'. How else couldja hit ol' Willie's sore points right on the kisser, an' mine, too?"
"*Yours*?"
"Yeah. Our little dispute back in the brambles on Midgard."
"Oh, that." Alan fell silent for a moment. "I'm sorry, Mark. I didn't mean half of what I said."
"That's okay. Taught me a much needed lesson." Linley grinned wryly. "But the point is, you knew exactly what to say to make me squirm."
"Gosh." Alan looked away in confusion. "I didn't mean to. I was shooting in the dark."
"An' scorin' bullseyes. Was it harder findin' ol' Willie's sore points than it was findin' mine?"
Alan considered. "Is it important?"
"I dunno. I'm just tryin' t'find some connections."
"I *think* you were easier." Alan frowned thoughtfully at the small, wooden table where he had flipped the credit piece earlier that evening. "Of course, when I was with Parks, I had other things on my mind."
"O' course." Linley also scowled darkly at the inoffensive table. "How about the warnin' you just got about our friendly sneak thief? Strong or weak?"
"Oh, strong. Very strong."
"Hmmm ..."
Alan yawned, almost dislocating his jaw. "I'm sleepy."
"Yeah ..." Linley was still frowning in puzzlement. "Okay, let's go back to bed. Hope our friend, the Arcturian got ridda that guy."
"I hope he didn't hurt him too bad," Alan said. "After all, Mark, you used to steal things, too. Maybe he had a little brother who needed food."
"Your heart's too damned soft," Mark said. He stood up and went over to the window, closing it. Rain clicked on the glass. He turned to check the door.
"It's already locked," Alan said. "The waiter locked it when he went out."
Linley checked anyway. "You're right -- as usual." He returned to his cot and crawled in, pulling the blankets up to his chin. Alan lay down on his own cot and turned on his side. After a few moments, sleep began to creep over him.
Mark stirred restlessly. Just on the edge of a forming dream, Alan started awake with a violent jerk.
"Sorry," Linley's voice said, out of the dark.
"That's okay." Alan closed his eyes again.
Silence, except for the drops on the pane.
"The only connection I can make," Mark said abruptly, "is that every time the warnin's were the strongest, you were with me."
Alan was silent for a moment. "So what?" he said, at last. "What possible difference could it make?"
"I dunno," Mark said. "Probably none."
They fell silent again. The rain drummed ceaselessly on the windowpane.
**********
tbc
