Slave Race: 34/?
by Nancy Smith and Linda Garrick
*Apparently,* came the mental voice of General Kaley's psychic assistant, *one of the control room men did manage to send a message on an unusual frequency--a new order, issued only three days ago which was to be acted upon when scanning a new system. The message sent was picked up by the Patrol, and a couple of squadrons in nearby systems are being sent to investigate. They'll be here in approximately an hour, and quite possibly less. Warnings are also coming in from our outside people. The Sixth Fleet was conducting maneuvers nearby, and will arrive soon after the first two squadrons. Evacuation is to proceed immediately. All pregnant women and psychic children are to proceed at once to the first transport.*
Outside, Karl heard the base loudspeakers repeating the telepathic message he had just heard.
"What about us?" Susan Burke asked, quietly. "Do you suppose we'll be sent out again?"
She, Marilyn and Karl were seated with the rest of the pilots in the skipper hangars, awaiting instructions. Jim Santos stood behind her, towering over her. For a brief moment Karl wondered what qualified Jim Santos, a non-psychic, to be included in this group, and then dismissed it. After all, Mark Linley was Alan Westover's partner, although the huge man couldn't possibly be a psychic. The powers-that-were certainly weren't going to go into detail with a cadet, psychic though he might be.
"Probably," Marilyn said. "We're the best they got, and..."
She was interrupted. Ted Moon's voice spoke in Karl's mind. *All fighter pilots are to go on immediate stand-by. Get your things ready to be put on the transports, or better yet, have someone stow them for you. The squadron will be here soon, so we have to be ready. Colonel Linley has command of the warfleet, and that includes us. His orders to us will be relayed through Colonel Westover."
Marilyn spoke suddenly to him. "Our belongings are being taken care of, so don't worry. Grandma just told me she'd take care of yours, too. There isn't that much, 'cause you're such a new arrival."
Karl nodded. "What do we do now?"
"I'd say, let's go get a snack. Things are going to get pretty hairy in a little while."
That made sense. Karl followed her toward the mess hall at a trot, where he discovered that a great many of the other cadets had apparently had the same idea. He found himself in the chow line with a mass of other teenagers, and a row of harried lunchroom workers thrusting sandwiches and drinks at them as fast as they could supply them.
"Here you go." Nola Warwick, who normally ran the lunchroom with intimidating efficiency, was behind the serving counter today. She handed him a sandwich and cola. "Fill up, Karl. You're not goin' to have much time for it, later."
"Thanks." He took the offerings and followed Marilyn to one of the tables, crowded with cadets and junior officers.
"No kiddin'," Mitch Edwards was a senior cadet who was a backup control room psychic on their flagship, the 'Wolverine'. Several younger cadets were grouped around him when Marilyn and Karl arrived at the table. "I saw 'em taken out of the research ship. Brexvor an' Dilexvor, Lord Pilathzor, an' a Lady. I think her name's Jorexzill."
"Brexvor *and* Dilexvor?" Somebody laughed. "If the brass wants 'em to survive this, they better not put them in the same cell!"
"Why not?" Jim Santos asked.
Karl perched himself on a stool, taking a huge bite of the sandwich. Nola must have supervised the sandwich making, he surmised, at the taste. Obviously Harry, the lunchtime cook, had not had a hand in it.
"Brexvor was still tryin' to get at Dilexvor while they were bein' escorted to the brig," Mitch said. "Haven't you heard about 'em, Jim?"
"*I* have," Susie Burke said. "Colonel Westover said they were trying to kill each other while he and Colonel Linley were on the ship."
Marilyn nudged Karl. "Two feuding scientists," she said. "I've heard about them."
"What about them?" Karl asked.
"They've been rivals for years," Marilyn said. "My dad told me once that he was masquerading as a caterer at some university party on Riskell, that both of 'em attended. They both got drunk and started yelling at each other and Brexvor tried to drown Dilexvor in the punch bowl."
"You're kidding!"
"Nope. Apparently whenever they get around each other, one of them always ends up taking a punch at the other one. It must have been a lot of fun with them both on the same ship."
"Oh, man! I didn't know Jils did stuff like that."
"You'd be surprised at what Jils do." Marilyn lifted her head. "Oops, we're being paged. Let's go."
Karl gulped down the soda and followed her, clutching his sandwich.
As they ran, Ted Moon's voice spoke in his brain.
*All fighter and skipper pilots to your ships. Take your positions and stand by. Keep your shields open unless you are commanded through the telepathic chain to close them. Good luck.*
**********
The wait aboard his skipper lasted approximately ninety minutes. He knew that all around him, the Lavirran warfleet was concealed, inert in the asteroid belt. Warships, sleek and in excellent repair, commanded by capable officers and in communication with their fellows at all times through their control room telepaths, waited for the squadron to arrive. Scattered among the big ships were the smaller, more maneuverable ones, all the way down to the skippers and one man fighters. Battle was coming. With luck, they would be able to take the first squadron without a struggle, but a second was sure to follow, and possibly a third. He felt scared suddenly, and wanted to hide.
Marilyn's voice spoke in his mind. *Golly! Did you pick that up, Karl?*
Karl jumped, suddenly aware that he had been too involved in his own thoughts to concentrate on what was going on around him. *No. What?*
*Mark Linley's wife has gone into labor. One of my friends on the first transport saw Colonel Linley bring her in!*
*Hope she'll be okay,* Karl answered.
*Me, too. *I* hope it doesn't distract Colonel Linley!"
*I don't think it will,* Karl said. *After all, she's depending on him, too."
He was interrupted. Another telepathic voice cut through the mental communication. *The Patrol Squadron has just come out of hyperspace in section 8-B. Complete radio silence, now. Use your psychics for communication.*
Karl swallowed. If the Jils caught him again...
He put the thought firmly from his mind. They wouldn't catch him. He would die first.
The minutes dragged by. Messages flew between the psychics. The Squadron Commander was a fellow named Mombasa of the battlecruiser "Nova". His transmissions were being jammed from a transmitter at the base, preventing any messages being sent either locally or through hyperspace. Karl tried to relax. There were no Jilectans here yet, and the likelihood was that none would arrive soon--save the four scientists that had been aboard the "Pride of Galanthzor", and who were now imprisoned securely on the planet's surface.
Moon's voice spoke in his mind again. *Stand by, everyone. The 'Nova' has been challenged by the asteroid fleet. He may try to fight his way out, and if he does, we're to back up Colonel Griffen.*
A pause--no more than three minutes. Then: *Okay, that's it. Fighters, go! Make it good, kids!*
The repulsers roared and Karl's ship shot forward.
Together the fleet of Lavirran ships cleared the asteroid field and hurtled onward toward the intruders. There were many ships--over a hundred, all shapes and sizes, including scouts, freighters, small passenger ships, and dozens of skippers similar to the one Karl piloted. Each had been equipped for combat and the pilot rigorously trained.
His sensors picked up the scene ahead--the Patrol squadron of six battlecruisers and bounding them on all sides, the Underground's light cruisers. The local jamming on his communicator cleared suddenly and he heard the deep, heavy tones of the Patrol Strike Commander requesting terms of surrender.
Griffen's voice answered, sounding cheerful and utterly confident. The tone of the reply was heartening. If he wasn't afraid, then he must know their chances for success were pretty good. Like Mark Linley, he had been a Patrol Strike Commander who had changed sides. If the Jils caught him now, the penalty for his crimes was far worse than that which Karl faced.
*Thanks, boys and girls!* It was a new voice in his mind, and he knew instinctively that it issued from Griffen's control room psychic. *You can all back off now. Colonel Griffen wishes me to express his compliments on your efficiency and promptness.* A pause. Then: *Orders now are for you to conceal yourselves in the asteroid belt with the rest of your fleet and stand by.*
Karl moved to obey. He knew, of course, what Colonel Linley was planning. They all did.
The main weakness of their forces was a fundamental one. Outside of the fact that the Lavirran fleet was perhaps one-sixth the size of the soon to arrive Jilectan fleet, Terra was not a conquering nation. Except for encounters with one or two ships at a time, to the Terrans, actual space warfare was largely theoretical. The Underground had done its best to minimize the problem, however. Karl had heard through the psychic grapevine that the Underground's battle-trained veterans from the Viceregal Patrol had been placed in critical positions throughout their forces in order to minimize the inexperience of the commanders, with former Strike Commander Linley in command. Still, the Underground's main strength, as always, lay in deception and misdirection. Linley had based his plan around that.
The "Nova" and her squadron had been taken. Underground members would now assume the places of its crew and would attempt to convince the backup squadron, and the Sixth Fleet, soon to arrive, that Lavirra contained nothing more interesting than a pirate base, that matters were under control, and that they could leave. The plan would probably work, barring unforeseen circumstances, and if it did, they would not be needed. If it didn't...well, they'd deal with that if it happened.
He didn't want to think about the possibility of failure. He stationed his ship in the asteroid belt, watching the tactical display on his control board.
The squadron of Patrol cruisers was being boarded, and he knew from the telepathic communications flying back and forth that so far there had been no incidents. Eric Vogleman, deck psychic aboard the Guardian, Colonel Griffen's ship, was leading the boarding party. He seemed to have his task well in hand.
It didn't take long. Over his communicator he heard the voice of another Patrol deserter-turned-Undergrounder, Captain Stewart. The man spoke over the hyperspace channel, calling the Patrol center on Corala and reporting that a pirate base had been discovered.
"Not Underground?" a disappointed voice responded.
"Nah!" Captain Stewart sounded disgusted. "Looks like that batch that's been raiding Jil shipping in the Corala-Riskell subsector. They've got some freighters and that Procyon warship reported destroyed a few years ago--the T'Freet--and a bunch of small stuff--scouts and so forth. We knocked out their transmitter with a missile."
"Who is this? Where's Squadron Commander Mombasa?"
"This is his second-in-command--Subcommander Osborne. Mombasa's in Sick Bay with a concussion and a busted arm."
"What's your situation?"
"We expect to have it completely under control, shortly," Stewart reported. "Some of 'em put up a fight, but most of 'em just ran for it. We're still getting an occasional ship trying to sneak out. Nothing we can't handle."
"How about the Jils?"
"They evidently got dumped somewhere on the planet along with the crew. As far as we can find out, nobody was killed. We've got search parties out now, looking for them. We took the pilot of a small freighter prisoner awhile ago. He's been taken down for interrogation. We may get a location from him."
"Good work, Osborne. Lord Hanthzar dispatched reinforcements for you. They should be arriving within an hour, and the Sixth Fleet isn't far behind. Relay the instructions to return to base when they arrive."
"Acknowledged. Too bad we didn't find an Underground base. Might have cut down on a lot of trouble from those lunatics."
"Yeah." The Drevelle man's tone was one of resignation. "Well, good hunting, 'Nova'."
"Thanks, Drevelle. 'Nova' out."
Karl relaxed. Maybe it would be okay after all.
He waited, as did all the other pilots. Evacuation of the planet was proceeding at a frenzied pace. Several ladies had chosen this moment to go into labor, and poor little Julia Linley would have plenty of company. The first transport was nearly ready to depart. The squadron, formerly belonging to Strike Commander Mombasa, now staffed by Underground members, stood ready, a picture of confidence and strength. The inert mines hung silent and waiting in the asteroid belt. From the planet came the report that the first transport was ready for launch.
Somewhat to his surprise, the relayed message from Alan Westover came, telling it to wait. Ten seconds passed--and a second Patrol squadron began to emerge from hyperspace. Apparently Westover's sense of precognition had been speaking up. For a second, Karl wished he were a precog. What a nice talent to have!
Captain Stewart's voice spoke over the com, this time on the local frequency.
"'Nova' to Patrol squadron."
"Mitsui here," came the reply, carrying the formal, correct tones of a Coralan native. "What's your situation, Nova'?"
"This is Subcommander Osborne," Stewart replied. "My Commander is temporarily out of action. We have the situation under control. The pirates have either fled or are in hiding."
"Not an Underground base?" Mitsui's voice held poorly concealed disappointment.
"No, worse luck. We just picked up our missing Jils a few moments ago."
"What's their status?"
"Indignant, but not hurt. Lord Pilathzor ordered us to hang around and capture anybody we can. He's frothing at the mouth. Drevelle told us to relay orders for you to return to base, though."
"Sounds like you're having a good time. All right, Subcommander, better luck next time."
"Thanks. 'Nova' out."
"Good hunting, 'Nova'. Out."
After several minutes of silence another voice in his mind announced that the newcomers had just gone back into hyperspace. Karl let out his breath. Another and bigger one--the Patrol fleet, probably--would be along soon, but hopefully it could also be disposed of easily. If so, they would have more time to complete their evacuation. Maybe it would be awhile before it arrived, anyway, and some of those transports could be gotten away...
A young female voice spoke in his mind. *Hold on, folks. First transport is about to depart, but Colonel Westover is still telling them to hold off. I'll bet that damned fleet is about to arrive...yeah, speak of the devil, here it is now!*
Inert and quiet in the asteroid belt, Karl couldn't pick them up, but the reactions from the psychic minds around him told him that the newcomers had indeed arrived in force. It was the warfleet, all right, commanded by the big cheese, himself, Fleet Commander Mitchell Edwards. Everyone had heard of him. There was probably a Jil or two on board, too, although no one knew how many, or what their talents included. They would have to be extremely careful of telepathic transmissions now.
Too far away, though, for the newcomers to communicate with the Jilectans in the brig down on Lavirra. Maybe they could pull it off...if only nothing went wrong...
A voice spoke suddenly over his com--a deep commanding voice carrying the faintly musical tones of a Riskell native. "Flagship 'Peacemaker' to 'Nova'. What is your situation, 'Nova'?"
"Pirates, sir," Osborne's (Stewart's) patient reply came immediately. "We have it in hand. An occasional ship has been trying to slip out, but we're picking them off. The Jilectans were taken prisoner, but we've picked them up unhurt. Actually, I think the whole nest is just about cleaned out. We haven't seen anything for quite awhile now."
"No sign of Underground activity?"
"Nothing, sir. Only pirates. We have the situation under control."
"Very well, 'Nova'. Better luck next time."
"Thanks," Stewart said. "Drevelle orders you to return, immediately."
"Acknowledged."
"Subcommander Osborne..."
Karl jumped again. The new voice was that of a Shallockian native, and for a moment he thought it was Mark Linley speaking. An instant later he knew he was wrong, for the speaker identified himself.
"This is Fleet Commander Edwards. Patch me through to Sick Bay. I want to speak to your Squadron Commander."
"Right away, sir."
Another voice came on. "Sick bay."
"Fleet Commander Edwards on the line, Doc. He wants to speak to the Squadron Commander."
"I'm afraid he can't," the voice returned, regretfully. "The Commander is suffering from a concussion. He's a little disoriented at the moment."
Stewart's voice, alarmed. "Is he going to be all right, Doc?"
"Certainly. In a few hours you won't know anything was ever wrong, but at the moment, he's a bit indisposed."
Edwards' voice: "Tell him I hope he gets better fast, Doc. Osborne, do you need any extra ships to assist you? I'll drop 'em off if you like."
Steward courteously accepted the offer, saying that there might be other ships down on the surface that hadn't tried to evacuate yet, and that a few more cruisers might be helpful in the final mopping up process. Karl found himself grinning faintly. As soon as the fleet departed, of course, the jamming would resume and the two new battlecruisers would be added to the Lavirran fleet.
He found himself holding his breath and had to remind himself to breathe. The waiting seemed to stretch on forever and when a voice erupted suddenly from the communicator, he jumped.
"Peacemaker to 'Nova'!"
"Osborne here," Stewart's voice said.
"Lord Milthvar wishes to speak with Lady Jorexzill right away. Patch her through, will you?"
Karl's heart lurched. Lady Jorexzill was presently imprisoned on Lavirra. How was Stewart going to handle this?
"Uh... yessir." Stewart's voice sounded a little uncertain for the first time. There was a pause. Then, "I can't raise her, sir. Her servant says she's indisposed."
A new voice spoke from the unit, its tone making the gooseflesh rise on Karl's skin. It was the voice of a Jilectan. "In what way is she indisposed, Subcommander?"
"Uh... ahem... she... appears to be entertaining, sir. She seemed...uh...quite grateful to the sergeant whose...uh...party rescued her."
Milthvar's response made Karl nearly jump out of his skin. "I am coming aboard! Tell Jorexzill to dispose of her Terran lover at once or I shall kill them both!" There was a squawk, then a loud crash over the unit which subsided to a faint clattering, then silence. A long, quivering silence.
Then, softly in awed tones. "What was *that* all about?"
"Is he gone?" Stewart's cautious whisper overlapped the other voice.
"He's coming aboard, Subcommander." It was Edwards again, sounding both resigned and slightly amused. "You'd better get the sergeant out of there, right away. What a time to pick!"
Now, how were they going to handle this development? Somehow, through sheer bad luck, the Peacemaker's resident Jil appeared to be interested in the lady scientist! He only hoped Stewart was equal to the challenge.
*They're going to start sneaking the transports out,* Marilyn's voice said, very softly in his mind. *Stay alert in case somebody notices something.*
Silence. Half an hour passed as he waited. Then at last the com came to life again. It appeared that Milthvar was planning to remain aboard the 'Nova' with Lady Jorexzill. The Jilectan's shuttle would return to the flagship without its passenger.
They must have somehow gotten Milthvar under restraint without the bodyguard becoming aware of it, Karl thought. Anything that killed time now was good. The longer they could occupy things, the more of their people could be evacuated
Then, so abruptly that he jumped, the jamming cut back in. Again Karl waited, wondering what was going on. The jamming ceased abruptly with a burst of profanity from the speaker. Very cautiously he located Marilyn's mind. *What's going on? Do you know?*
*I think so.* Even her mental voice sounded worried. *Apparently Milthvar's bodyguard caught on and tried to warn the folks back home. He almost succeeded. The shuttle started back, but we jammed its transmissions and one of our guys managed to shoot it down.*
*That tears it, doesn't it?* Karl felt his insides knot.
*Maybe not. Jeff's blaming it on a pirate. Maybe he can talk his way out of it.* A pause. Then: *One of our guys got in the way when the 'Peacemaker's' guys went after the 'pirate'. That looked bad. If I were Edwards, I'd be getting suspicious by now. Fleet Commanders aren't Fleet Commanders 'cause they're stupid.*
Karl silently agreed. The fact that Marilyn was getting nervous made him nervous. The girl was a pre-cog, too--a talent which he was beginning to wish more and more that he possessed. More minutes passed.
*Inspection team is being sent aboard the 'Nova'.* Again her voice spoke softly in his mind. *Pass the word and sit tight for now.*
More delay. Karl relayed the message to his next contact and waited tensely. He must, of course, be ready to snap his shields into place in case a Jil started scanning. Word was being circulated that the remaining Jil aboard the Peacemaker, Snathvor, was not a strong telepath, but if he picked up even the slightest hint of a Terran psychic now, all would be lost. Minutes slid past. Apparently all was going well with the inspection team.
The communicator came to life suddenly. "Lieutenant Cole to 'Peacemaker'."
"'Peacemaker' receiving you."
"Special message for the Commander. King's rook to Queen's Bishop Three.
Checkmate."
"Message received and understood. 'Peacemaker' out.
That, Karl thought, must have been the report from the inspection team that all was well. It looked like Captain Stewart had handled it deftly. Now what, though? Surely they couldn't let the inspection team return to the Fleet.
The transports were moving rapidly now. Word reached him that the fourth one had departed, and minutes later, the fifth.
"'Nova' to 'Peacemaker'!" a voice snapped from the com.
"'Peacemaker' receiving you."
"This is Subcommander Osborne. We have an emergency. Those two Jilectan scientists are at it again!"
"Putting you through to Lord Snathvor, Osborne."
The voice of another Jilectan emerged from the unit. "Subcommander, this is Lord Snathvor! You will report at once!"
"Yes sir! We have had a small disturbance between two of the scientists aboard the 'Nova', M'lord. Fortunately we were able to prevent any serious injuries, however, as a result of the incident we were ordered by Lord Milthvar to... uh... provide their Lordships with quarters not precisely to their liking, at least until M'lord can complete his investigation."
"I fail to understand what qualifies this as an emergency, Subcommander."
"It was necessary for a number of men to...uh...separate the two combatants, M'lord. Several members of your inspection team were present at the time. Five of them ..." Stewart's voice faltered most convincingly. "Five of them were killed. Eight more are now in Sick Bay. One may not make it. The rest are being interviewed by Lords Pilathzor and Milthvar to determine the exact cause of the incident. Your Lieutenant Cole was one of the casualties."
Man! Karl thought. What were they going to come up with next? Evidently, the feuding of the two Jil scientists had not escaped the notice of the Underground's higher-ups, after all.
Snathvor was speaking again. "I wish to speak to Lord Milthvar, *now*!"
"Yes, M'lord," Osborne (Stewart) said.
How were they going to handle a Jil on the line? Karl wondered. Maybe Milthvar could be coerced at blaster point...
"This is Lord Milthvar!" an impatient Jilectan voice snapped suddenly. "I trust this is important!"
Wow! How had they done that? It couldn't be Milthvar speaking, but it sure sounded like him!
"This is Snathvor. I wished to confirm Subcommander Osborne's report."
"His report is correct!" Again the impatient snap. "The shuttles will be remaining here until I have determined the truth behind the accusations and counter-accusations of the two principals involved. Milthvar out!"
The com went dead.
*That was a Tormheit, Karl!* Marilyn's amused mental whisper told him. *Easy. They can imitate anything!*
Of course. Karl had forgotten that members of the species were on Lavirra.
Seconds went by and became minutes. Three more transports departed.
A chill crawled suddenly over him, sending prickles down his spine. He was aware of something--a mind, and not a Terran mind, probing weakly and clumsily through the space around him. None of the psychics had given any indication that they had noticed the intruder. But Karl had been in almost constant company with the Jilectans for almost a week, and perhaps because of that his senses were more finely attuned.
*The Jil! Shields up!* He sent the command frantically to Marilyn, then snapped his shields into place. The warning would circulate with lightning rapidity across the psychic communication chain. He could only hope it would be fast enough.
Silence...a long, stretched-out silence. He waited, his nerves tingling, for what was to come. Had the Terran psychics closed their shields quickly enough? They would know in a moment.
"Osborne!" The snap in the voice of the Fleet Commander blasted Karl's hopes. Edwards knew, now. Their cover was blown.
But Stewart was replying to the Commander, his voice harried but innocent. "Yes, Fleet Commander?"
"You are ordered to surrender immediately or risk destruction! This charade's gone on long enough!"
"Sir?" Stewart was continuing the game to the last square, playing, Karl knew, for every second of extra time that he could squeeze out.
"Surrender at once or we open fire!"
Edwards wasn't buying it, Karl thought, and why should he? The Jil had detected psychic activity. The game was up.
"I don't understand, sir." Stewart's voice sounded utterly bewildered. "Of course we surrender. But why?"
A pause. Then Edwards' voice again. "Surrender immediately, 'Nova'."
Silence. Karl waited, tense, his nerves tingling. Moments now, he knew. Like Marilyn had said, Fleet Commanders weren't Fleet Commanders because they were stupid.
He lowered his shields again, awaiting orders. There was no hint of the Jilectan's mind nearby, and why should there be? The Patrol Fleet and Snathvor too, knew now that they had been played for suckers.
*Karl,* Marilyn's voice said in his mind. *All the fighters in our section have been ordered out. Intercept any ships trying to get too close to Lavirra. There's two squadrons moving into position, probably trying to get a look at the other side of the planet. Relay and come on!*
He obeyed. His little ship shot forward out of the asteroid field, accompanied by those of his fellow psychics.
**********
Chapter 52
"Karl!" Stephen shouted. He ran toward his brother. Karl stood in the gathering dusk, shouting his name. Loreen ran behind him, calling Karl's name joyfully.
"No!" Edwin White was beside him, snatching his arm and bringing him up short.
Stephen struggled, trying to push him to one side. "Let me go, damn you! It's Karl! My brother, Karl! Can't you see him?"
Edwin had caught Stephen's mother as well, gripping her wrist tight. She pulled absently at his grip. "It's Karl, Ed! Karl! Karl!"
The psychic boy, Jack, grabbed his other wrist, helping White to hold Stephen.
"No!" he yelled. "No! There's nothin' there, Stephen!"
That caught Stephen's attention. He turned irritably on Jack. "What do you mean? Can't you see him?"
"No!" Jack shook him. "Nothin's there!"
"It's an illusion!" White was holding both of Loreen's arms now and shaking her hard. "You're both seeing it! Neither of you has decent shielding. Jack and I can't see it because we're shielded! I know! I do it, myself! Don't look at it, Lori!"
She began to cry. "No! No, I can see him! It's my boy! Karl! Karl!"
"Mom!" Clear, sharp and very close Stephen heard the call. "Help me! My ankle's hurt!"
"My God!" Loreen twisted, breaking White's grip, and ran forward. He was after her instantly and caught her in three steps. "No, Lori! He isn't there!"
Stephen stared at the figure of his brother. Karl extended a pleading hand toward him, and involuntarily Stephen started forward, feeling Jack's hand clamp on his arm again. He twisted free. "You're crazy! You're both crazy!"
"No, Steph!"
He ignored Jack's shout and dashed forward, dodging White's reaching hand.
Karl lay on the ground before him, arms reaching up for him, smiling in a way that made Stephen's eyes blur with unmanly tears. He bent, caught Karl's hands, and started to lift him upright.
Something shot out of the underbrush to his right--a clawing, twisting, snarling thing. In a flash Karl was gone and the thing was flinging itself upon Stephen, hurling him down. Claws raked his face, and hot breath puffed into his nostrils. He heard himself scream.
A blaster cracked. The thing gave a dreadful, rasping shriek and seemed to spasm. Stephen pushed the jaws away from his face, feeling the creature go limp. It collapsed across him, and, with a final, shivering moan, became still.
Jack was bending over him, trying to haul the creature back. Loreen appeared, also grasping the thing and heaving it away. He saw White, replacing the blaster in his belt as he, too, hurried forward.
"Stephen! Are you okay?"
"It scratched him." Loreen was wiping away blood from Stephen's cheek and neck. "Doesn't look too deep, but we'd better get it cleaned up right away."
"I saw him, Mom!" Stephen whispered. "I saw him, just like I'm seeing you! I felt his hand grip mine!"
"It was an illusion, Steph." White helped him to his feet. "The thing lures its prey by making the prey see something that attracts it. It must be telepathic, though, to make you see Karl. It had to take him right out of your mind."
Stephen gulped, trying to control his trembling. White clamped an arm around him. "Can you walk?"
"Sure."
"Jack, can you and Lori bring the critter along? I want to get a better look at it than we can get here."
"Mommy!" he heard Ellie's plaintive call from the campsite.
"We're coming, honey."
They dumped the creature next to the fire, and Stephen was glad to collapse beside it. He felt shaken, and the scratches on his face were burning like fire. Jack brought water and Loreen cleaned the scratches and disinfected them. Jack sprayed them with synthaskin.
"Feelin' better, Steph?" he asked.
"Yeah." Stephen grinned a little shamefacedly. "Sorry I was so stupid. Man, it looked just as clear..."
"It's okay." The little boy shrugged.
"Sorry I called you crazy."
"Forget it."
White was examining the creature and Stephen also turned to look at it. It would mass, he thought, perhaps a hundred and thirty kilos, all trim hard muscle over bone. The head was long, the nose pointed, the gaping jaws lined with five-centimeter fangs. The forehead bulged, indicating a good brain capacity. Yellow slitted eyes were set on either side of the head, and a third eye bulged out directly in front. The shape was vaguely dog-like, except for six legs and a prehensile tail. The three digits adorning each foot were also clearly capable of grasping things.
"A tree-climbing dog!" Loreen whispered.
"Which lures its prey with illusions," White said. "Illusions that it can broadcast to more than one individual at a time."
"But you and Jack didn't see it," Loreen said. "Of course, neither one of you knows Karl..."
"I didn't see it, either," Ellie said. "And I know Karl."
"I guess that clinches it," White said, slowly. "It went for the unshielded non-psychics in the group."
Stephen felt his face flushing with the old sense of inadequacy. "Was it the fact that you're all psychics, or the fact that you're all well shielded?"
White shrugged. "Maybe both. Or neither. Maybe it thought we were of its own kind. It's a psychic, after all. We have no way of knowing for sure. In any case, I think it would be a good idea if Loreen and Steph don't go out alone. Have either Jack, Ellie or me go with you."
Loreen shuddered. "A dream creature."
"A dream dog," Jack said.
"Good name for it," White said. "I wonder if there's a lot of them around."
The last sliver of the sun vanished below the horizon. The clouds left behind were stained pink and silver, the little moon dipping toward them.
"I wonder where His Lordship is," Ellie said, softly.
"I don't really care," Stephen said. "That Jil was a royal pain in the butt."
"Stephen!" Loreen said, reprovingly.
"He was, Mom."
"Watch your language."
"Okay. Sorry." Stephen turned away, aware that White was trying not to smile.
Kimmie whimpered.
"She's getting hungry. I'll get her a bottle." Ellie rose and went up the ramp into the ship. Stephen relaxed, staring into the dying fire. White tossed a couple of pieces of driftwood on it and they watched it blaze up, hot in the chilly air. Ellie returned, Kimmie's bottle in her hand, and picked up the baby, beginning to feed her.
"I wonder where we are," Loreen said, musingly.
"No system I've ever heard of," White said. "And Comishvor got around a lot."
"And the animals! Whoever heard of a telepathic dog with illusionist abilities?"
"Not me," Stephen said, but he wasn't really listening. He was watching Edwin White. The man had moved closer to Stephen's mother in a way that Stephen didn't like a bit. The baby sucked noisily on the makeshift bottle, drooling milk down the side of her face. From the darkening forest there came a long, mournful howl. Something chuckled softly from the direction of the ocean.
"We'll do some exploring tomorrow," White said. "Maybe we'll find some signs of civilization. Who knows?"
Ellie set down the bottle and brought Kimmie to a sitting position. Kimmie burped loudly and hiccoughed.
"I'll finish feeding her, Ellie," Loreen said. "It's time you kids were in bed."
"Mom!"
"It's going to be a busy day tomorrow. Get going now."
Stephen stood up. "She's right, El. C'mon, Jack."
Loreen took the baby and kissed Ellie. "Good night, honey. Good night, Stephen. Good night, Jack."
"G'night." Together they filed up the ramp into the ship.
Stephen lay down on his bunk, pulling the covers up to his chin. All was very still. The lights in the cabin were dim, illuminating just the corners of the compartment. Jack settled into the bunk above his and was asleep almost at once.
Stephen lay still, staring upward into the dimness. Ellie's breathing became deep and regular, and he heard Jack mutter something in his sleep. Stephen turned over restlessly, trying to will himself to sleep.
After ten minutes he slipped quietly out of bed and went to the hatch, peering out at the forms of his mother and Mr. White, still seated on the sand beside the fire. They couldn't see him, he hoped, with the darkness behind him. The baby lay on the sand beside them, wrapped in a blanket. The two adults sat very close together, and Stephen could see his arm around her shoulders. As he watched, she turned her head and their lips met. Both his arms went around her, and he bore her down gently until they were lying together on the sand. The kiss became passionate.
Stephen turned and went quietly back to his bed. Tears blurred his eyes and he blinked them back angrily.
For a long time he lay there, struggling with his feelings. There was, he told himself, no reason to feel this way. His mother had married Edwin White. Fate had separated them. Karl was their child. Stephen's father had entered the picture later. Still, something was bothering him. He tried to deduce what it was from his jumbled feelings, and after some sifting and discarding, he knew.
Edwin White's appearance had changed Stephen's status. He was illegitimate, now--a kid like so many others on Corala whose parents had not been married at the time of their kid's birth. If his mother had been legally married to White, then her marriage to Cecil, however innocent, had not been legal. Stephen bit his lip. Cecil had been a brute, a drunk, a weak, vicious man, never really a father to his kids--and yet, his legal marriage to Loreen had given Stephen a certain elevated status. He was one of the select few who had been born of an honorable union between husband and wife. Now, he couldn't claim even that.
Blast it all! If Stephen could have chosen his father from the two men, he would unhesitatingly have picked Edwin White. And yet, who could choose his parents? No one. It was no blame on him, or on his mother, that he and Ellie were out-of-wedlock children. Still, the thought made him grimace. Cecil had scorned children born illegitimately, as well as their parents. "The dregs of society" he had called them. Stephen turned over and lay face down, blinking furiously at the tears. He liked Mr. White. He didn't want to, but he did. He remembered the attack of the dream dog. White had shot the thing to save him. And Jack--Jack had tried to warn him, had restrained him, and run after him. They were good people, both of them. And Jack was illegitimate--at least, probably. Most orphans were. Worse still, his mother had abandoned him, leaving him as an infant, to the mercies of a Shallockian orphanage. Jack had nothing to brag about, and yet, he didn't let it cripple him. He accepted what life dealt, never bemoaning the past or what might have been. The kid was great. Maybe Cecil had been wrong in lumping all illegitimate kids together. He seemed to have been wrong about a lot of things.
The thought made him feel better. If Jack could do it, so could he. The past was past, and no one, not even the mighty Jils, themselves, could change it. Let it lie.
Stephen slept.
The night seemed very short. He awoke to a sound and started upright. Mr. White was out of bed and heading across the compartment toward the hatch.
Stephen sat up. "What's the matter?"
"Good, you're awake. Come here, Steph. We may have trouble."
Stephen saw his mother sit up, running a hand over her tousled hair. "What is it, Edwin?"
"I think Comishvor's back."
Stephen came up beside him. Edwin had stopped at the hatch to press a button. The panel slid aside and the ramp descended.
Stephen stared. Lord Comishvor lay face down in the sand at the foot of the ramp. Blood stained the right leg of the fine breeches he wore, and beside him, clutched in one six fingered hand, was what appeared to be a spear.
White ran down the ramp and Stephen followed. Together they half-lifted M'lord and led him, stumbling, up the ramp and into the ship. Jack ran down the ramp, picked up the spear that had been dropped during the transfer, and brought it inside. The boy closed the hatch behind him.
Loreen hurried to them, helping to lower the tremendously heavy alien to the deck.
"What happened to him?" Her voice was a horrified whisper.
"It's his leg." White eased the Jilectan to his back. "Looks like it was caught by the edge of that spear, doesn't it? Bad cut. Ellie, get me the... oh, thanks." He accepted the emergency kit from the little girl. "Easy, M'lord. You've lost some blood here." White cut away the leg of the breeches using his bush knife.
There was a deep, ragged wound on the outer aspect of the Jilectan's thigh, and blood still oozed from it, dripping on the deck.
"Cut the artery," Loreen said. "Put pressure on it, Steph."
Stephen used a handkerchief to apply pressure to the wound as White dug in the kit, removing a tourniquet. "When did this happen, sir?"
Comishvor was apparently incapable of answering. White applied the tourniquet. "Looks like it wasn't the main supplying vessel," he observed. "Good thing for him, or he might have lost that leg. I think I can clip it closed so we won't have to leave the tourniquet on." He began to manipulate the wound, getting his hands smeared liberally with blood. Comishvor made an inarticulate sound, reaching for him.
"Easy... easy, sir. I've got to stop the bleeding... ouch!" He flinched away as the Jilectan's flailing fist caught him on the side of the head. "Sit on him or something, Steph."
"Let him bleed to death if he doesn't want to cooperate," Stephen growled.
"Stephen!" Loreen sounded shocked. "He's out of his head. He doesn't know what he's doing!"
"Oh, all right. Help me, mom."
Together they seated themselves on Comishvor's arms, trying to hold him while White finished patching the alien's wounds. It didn't take long, but Comishvor heaved and fought, making the task twice as difficult. If he hadn't been weak from blood loss, he probably would have maimed both of them.
At last White sat back. "There. I think he'll be okay now. I'd give him a sedative, except I think he's already in shock and I might kill him."
Stephen didn't voice the obvious. He stood up and went over to Jack who was examining the spear. "Look at this!"
Jack handed him the weapon, and Stephen examined it in awe. It was made of wood, but the head was constructed of carefully chipped and sharpened stone, tied on with what appeared to be leather thongs. It was decorated with feathers and dyed strips of more leather, twisted and braided into intricate designs. The wood was solid and heavy, and the weapon itself, twice as tall as Stephen.
"Big," Jack said softly. "No Terran could use this."
"No Terran could throw it," Stephen said. "It's too heavy."
White came over beside them, wiping his bloodied hands on a wet towel. He took the weapon from Stephen, examining it with interest. "But you can almost bet that it was made by something humanoid. It takes a hand with fingers and thumb to hold a spear, and to carve that tip on it. Primitive, for sure, but intelligent."
"Maybe M'lord can tell us what it is." Loreen went over to the Jilectan, elevated the injured leg on a pillow and covered the alien with a blanket. Comishvor moaned, turning his head from side to side and reaching for his leg.
"It's okay, Lord Comishvor." Loreen spoke gently. "You made it back. You're safe."
The Jilectan moaned again. "Water!"
Ellie brought him a cup and held it for him. Comishvor gulped and fell back, gasping. White gave the spear to Jack and crossed the room to kneel beside his former master.
"M'lord, we need to know what happened. Did you see what it was that threw the spear?"
Comishvor groaned and his eyes fluttered. "Edwin? Is that you, my psychic?"
"Yes, M'lord. It's me. Can you tell us what happened?"
Stephen watched, annoyed, but beginning to understand. White had been Comishvor's slave for sixteen years. Such a relationship could not, he supposed, be thrown over in a day, or even a year. Edwin would probably always treat Comishvor with respect, no matter what the alien did. The respect had remained even when Comishvor had been a condemned prisoner. Weird relationship, and yet...
Comishvor was speaking, voice weak. "I do not know what it was. I did not see it."
Stephen suddenly noticed the blaster projecting from the Jilectan's belt. He crossed the room quickly and bent to remove it. Comishvor made no objection, but groaned again.
"My leg... it is on fire! Can you give me nothing for the pain, Edwin?"
White dug in the kit and removed a syringe. "Uh...I guess he's recovered enough, huh?" He glanced at Loreen. "What do you think?"
"Give it to him."
White injected the alien in his uninjured thigh. Comishvor hardly seemed to notice. He was writhing on the deck, groaning.
"It'll get better in a minute, sir," said White. "Just relax." He tried to restrain the alien, then stumbled back at a thrust from Comishvor's hand. Stephen caught him.
"Leave him alone," he advised.
"Okay." White turned away, looking unhappy. "I guess we can learn the whole story once he's feeling better."
"This blaster's exhausted." Stephen was examining the barrel. "It's been fired on emergency max."
Comishvor had turned toward him, still clutching at the leg. "I fired it, Terran. There was no choice! Edwin, what did you give me? It is not helping!"
"Give it a little more time, sir."
Another groan. "You must give me more."
"I can't, sir. I gave you as much as I dared."
Comishvor cursed at him and rolled to his other side. Stephen saw Ellie grimace, and Jack turned away, his face scrunched up in what could only be sympathy. Blasted empathy, he thought. It was a curse--a true handicap for his species. Maybe the Jilectans were right. As psychics, maybe they were superior, if only because so few of them were empaths.
At last Comishvor became still, breathing heavily. "It is easing," he announced. "I believe the medication is beginning to take effect."
"You're welcome," Loreen murmured under her breath.
Edwin approached the Jilectan again. "What happened, sir?"
The Jilectan's eyes flicked toward him. "Since you refused to release me, Edwin, I released myself once you and the others were distracted."
"You didn't come to help us," Stephen observed, acidly. "So much for your promise."
Comishvor regarded him coolly. "The battle was over by the time I had freed myself. You no longer had need of me. I knew, of course, that you would make me prisoner again as soon as you returned. I had seen the blaster in the food compartment, so I took it and left."
"Where were you planning to go?" Loreen asked.
"I intended to explore--discover if there were Jilectan establishments on this world. I found no sign of modern civilization, although a few spots that appeared to once have been campfires. I was walking through the underbrush when, without any warning that spear flew at me and caught my leg. I fell, and a few moments later I could hear the sound of several creatures approaching. I...did not allow them to get near. I used emergency maximum--flamed the entire area. The sounds stopped, but I heard no retreat. I may have killed them or wounded them badly. I did not see them."
"When did this happen?" White asked.
"This morning, early. I spent the night in the forest in a shelter of my own making. I thought--imagined, I suspect--that I sensed another Jilectan presence here."
"When was this?" Edwin asked. "This morning, before the attack?"
"No, yesterday, before my escape from you. But the entire time I was out there, I scanned and sensed nothing."
"So, after you got hit by the spear you decided to come back to us?" Stephen could not keep the sarcasm out of his voice. "And what would you have done if you had found other Jilectans, M'lord? Told them there were Terran outlaws on their world and brought them back here?"
The Jilectan didn't even glance at him. "So I must conclude, Edwin, that my first impression was incorrect."
"Someone threw the spear, though," Loreen said.
"But not a Jilectan, dear Lady." Comishvor regarded the woman benevolently-- because she had killed his wife, perhaps, Stephen thought.
"It was a humanoid, though," Edwin said, gesturing to Jack to bring the weapon. "This is the weapon of a humanoid--a large humanoid. No Terran, or anything the size of a Terran, could use it successfully."
"Quite true." Comishvor took the weapon, examining it. "Rather attractive, is it not?"
None of the Terrans replied. Comishvor turned the spear over in his hands.
"Intricate working, and fine decor. I would like to keep it for a souvenir of my adventure."
"All right with me," Loreen said. "I think it's sort of ugly. I wouldn't have chosen those colors."
Stephen had to agree with her. The colors were clashing and not those he would have chosen to decorate anything short of a Halloween costume.
"Maybe Lord Comishvor sensed the dream dog?" Ellie suggested in a small voice. "You said it must be telepathic, Mr. White."
"Maybe." White told Comishvor about the creature and their encounter the previous night. "I don't know about it's level of intelligence," he concluded. "And of course, it couldn't have been what made this spear, but it did seem to have a large brain capacity."
"It might well need that for its psychic abilities, Edwin," Comishvor told him condescendingly. "If the creature's intelligence were superior it should have realized you might have reason to doubt the authenticity of the lure it presented. There were, after all, three others of your kind present who did not see the illusion. Did it believe there would be no communication between you? The fact that it did not take that into consideration indicates a lower intelligence level."
Stephen felt another wave of irritation at the Jilectan's tone, but White betrayed no resentment, his expression thoughtful.
"True, M'lord, but there may be other factors here. Maybe the creature didn't realize we were the same species. It may not go by looks, but by psychic ability. Or maybe it thought we were too unintelligent to communicate with each other, or perhaps that we couldn't communicate because they weren't psychics. Maybe the only way it communicates with its own kind is through telepathy."
"It is possible. However, I find it difficult to believe a creature such as you describe could harbor any significant intelligence in addition to psychic ability."
Of course not, Stephen thought. If it did, that would put it on a par with you, and one species like that is enough.
The Jilectan's eyes were closed. "I will rest now, Edwin. Give me more water."
"Please," Loreen said.
The Jilectan's eyes opened and turned on her.
"Please," Loreen repeated, gently. "You are no longer Edwin's master, Lord Comishvor. You therefore request. You don't command."
White had paused, the cup of water in his hand.
"Please," she repeated, smiling a little. "One little word, M'lord."
Edwin opened his mouth as if to speak, then apparently changed his mind.
A faint smile tugged at the corners of Comishvor's mouth. "Your woman is quite extraordinary, Edwin." He paused for a second. "And very brave and beautiful. Very well then, if it pleases you, lovely Terran lady. Please give me a drink of water, Edwin."
Wordlessly Ed helped him lift his head and held the cup to his lips. Comishvor gulped, then lay back, still smiling faintly. "Thank you, Edwin." His eyes were on Loreen as he spoke. "Am I pleasing you, my pretty Terran lady?"
"Very much," Loreen said. She had gone pink.
"Lord Comishvor," Ellie said.
"Yes?"
"How did you get back here after you were hurt? Did you walk all the way?"
"Yes, Ellie, I did--or crawled, and used the spear which had wounded me as a crutch. It was a very painful journey."
"Wow!" Her eyes widened. "You must be awfully strong!"
"Quite true, Terran child." He smiled benignly at her. "Remember that. This is a world filled with dangers. We have not been here two full days, and already members of our party have suffered three attacks from the natives. We must not be enemies. We must work together if we are to survive. My strength will be an asset if you allow me freedom to use it." His gaze went to White's face. "Consider this carefully, Edwin." He paused, then added half humorously. "Please."
White smiled. "I will. Rest now, M'lord."
The Jilectan's eyes closed. White straightened the blanket, pulling it higher, and stood up. He gestured to the others, who went with him into the tiny galley, Jack carrying Kimmie.
"Now what?" White said, quietly. "Do you think we dare trust him?"
"We can't keep him tied up forever," Ellie said, plaintively. "I think he's getting nicer, anyway. Don't you, Jack?"
Jack shrugged. "Dunno. To you, maybe. He ain't ever been nice t'me."
Edwin sighed. "It would be nice to think Ellie's right. Comishvor's strong, smart, and awfully fast. If we could trust him, it'd be great."
"But we can't," Stephen said. "He's proved that."
"I don't know," Loreen said. "He got loose while we were all occupied with the megalion. If he'd wanted to hurt us, he could have then."
"How? We were armed."
"Well, he could have grabbed one of us and made the others throw down their blasters, or he could have locked himself in the ship, I suppose. Don't forget, he's very strong and fast."
"She's right," Edwin said, slowly. "Given half a chance, he could overpower all of us."
"Well, he's no danger to us right now," Ellie said, unhappily.
"No, he isn't." White sighed. "I guess we don't have to decide what to do right now. We can just keep an eye on him and see how he acts over the next day or two."
"He'll get well real quick, if I know him," Stephen said, sourly.
"Of course," Loreen said. "But if we can just..."
She was interrupted. The surface upon which they stood jolted suddenly and began to vibrate. Ellie squealed, staggering, and Jack stumbled, still clutching the infant against him. The vibration increased for an instant, then gradually lessened and ceased.
"A quake," White said. "Not too bad, but it makes one wonder how frequent they are around here."
"A quake?" Ellie whispered, awed. "You mean like the big one on Terra that happened the day Alan Westover was born?"
"Huh?" Edwin stared at her blankly.
Stephen grinned at him. "Every school kid knows that, Mr. White. Funny co-incidence. Alan Westover was born on the day a huge earthquake hit Hollywood--the entertainment capital of Terra. Demolished the city."
"Oh. I didn't know that. Yes, Ellie, that's what it was--only not as bad."
"I've never been in a quake," Stephen said. "They don't have very many on Corala."
"I've only felt one before." White said. "A small tremblor while I was on Shallock. Jack probably knows all about quakes. Shallock has a lot of them."
The boy nodded soberly. "They're usually nothin' t'worry about, though," he said. "You just get under a table or doorway or somthin' an' wait 'til it's over."
"Remember that," White said. He sighed. "Let's have breakfast. Bring the taster, Ellie, and let's see if our dream dog is good to eat."
The creature was good to eat, and far more palatable than megalion, the carcass of which still lay in the sand halfway up the beach. Small scavengers were clustered around it.
Edwin made a face as a gust of wind wafted the odor of the thing toward them. "Yuk. Might get a little rancid out here after another day or two."
"It's too big to move, though." Stephen also made a face. "I guess we could burn it up."
White shook his head. "Not a good idea. A big fire like that would attract attention, and we don't want that. Small fires are dangerous enough. No, we'll just let the scavengers take care of it. From the looks of it, they'll strip it clean in a couple of days."
Loreen looked deliberately away from the body. Ellie finished her piece of dream dog and asked her mother for more. Loreen gave her a second piece.
Stephen finished the last of his and licked his fingers. "Boy, this is really good, mom. What did you put on it to make it taste like that?"
"Salt," Loreen said, with a faint smile. "Hunger is the best sauce, son."
"Yeah. Too bad we don't have some mashed potatoes and gravy to go with it."
"Maybe we'll find some when we go exploring," White said.
Loreen looked worried. "I don't like it, Ed. We don't know what's out there, but we do know there are a lot of dangers. Why go looking for trouble? We have enough meat to last us for several days."
He looked across at her, quite tenderly. "I know, dear, but then what? Rescue seems...unlikely at the moment. If we just sit here in our ship and wait for the planet's natives to come to us, they surely will, in time. On the other hand, we can go and explore. We can meet the dangers head on and find out what they are. Once we know, we'll learn to protect ourselves."
She sighed. "Then I go with you."
"And what if something happens to both of us? Who takes care of the kids? Comishvor?"
She paused, clearly thwarted. Stephen cleared his throat.
"Mom, I'll go with him. We'll watch out for each other."
She seemed about to protest, then gave in. "All right. Be very careful."
"I will, dear."
"Sure, mom."
Ellie was clearing away the remains of breakfast, Jack helping her.
"I wonder if the stasis chamber would keep our dream dog from spoiling," she said.
"I'll cut off what I can." Jack began hacking at the creature with his pocket knife. Loreen looked the other way.
"Come on, Steph." White stood up and slipped a blaster and three extra energy cells into his pockets. "Lori, take care of things. If anything even looks weird, get in the ship and have Jack or Ellie call me telepathically. Don't believe anything you see or hear unless one of the kids is with you."
"Yes, dear."
He picked up his jacket. "Have dinner ready by six. I'll tell my boss I'll have to skip the staff meeting tonight."
Ellie giggled. Loreen went over to her husband. "Be careful, Edwin."
"I promise, dear. C'mon, Steph."
The two strode across the sand to the field, heading for the line of forest half a kilometer away.
**********
(tbc)
