Joker Part 8
By Linda Garrick and Nancy Smith
Jason and Lisa moved as the panel closed behind the Subcommander. The officer's locker stood beside them and Jason rested a hand on it, seeing the combination before his eyes. He twirled the knobs rapidly and the door popped open.
They crowded inside, blasters drawn, and Jason swung the door shut. Lisa huddled against him, and he slipped an arm around her, holding her closely and reassuringly.
The sound of the door to the room opening came faintly through the locked cabinet. They heard the searchers enter.
"Man, whatta mess!" The voice was muffled but still quite audible. "If our quarters looked like this, the Commander'd have us on report."
"Rank has its privileges." There came the sound of the patrolman's boots on the deck and of dresser drawers opening. "What th' hell are we botherin' for, Benny? He ain't gonna be hidin 'em."
"He might not know. Undergrounders are clever. Besides, according to the guys guarding 'em, somebody's impersonating Carson. He was wearing Carson's helmet, remember. We've got an Underground agent on board somewhere."
"Ten to one, he's gotten ridda the helmet by now. No way he's gonna let us find it where it can incriminate him." The knob of the locker jiggled. "He's got it sealed. Check the bathroom."
Another sound of a door opening, then the click of the shower door. "Nothing! Okay, that does it. Let's go."
Jason and Lisa waited as the patrolmen exited. As the door opened there came the sound of Carson's voice, and the nervous, apologetic tones of the searchers. "Very sorry, sir. His Lordship ordered us to search everywhere -- even the officers' quarters."
"No problem, Patrolman," Carson's voice said. "Carry on."
Retreating footsteps. Jason heard the door close softly and sensed the Subcommander's presence in the outer room. He nodded to Lisa, feeling Carson's puzzlement. Carefully Lisa rapped on the door with her knuckles.
The lock spun and the door popped open, revealing Subcommander Carson, his helmet missing and his face very pale. Jason and Lisa exited.
"How did you get in there?" Carson asked.
Jason lifted a hand and twiddled his fingers. "Telekinesis, of course -- combined with a little clairvoyance. Really, Subcommander, you'll be glad you've changed sides after awhile. Terran psychics are usually more powerful than the Jils' best. Colonel Westover is equal to any Jil in this Sector. All we lack is numbers, and Terran psychics breed very well." He glanced proudly at Lisa. "We all do our part in making the odds more equal."
Carson glanced at her. "You pregnant, honey?"
She nodded, blushing slightly. "About four months. It's our first."
"Oh," Carson said. He grinned. "Congratulations."
"Thanks." Jason returned the grin, sensing friendship intermixed with the apprehension radiating from the officer. "Did you get the cigarettes?"
"Yeah, sure did." Carson produced a large carton of expensive smokes. "Swiped 'em from the Strike Commander's private stock. He's going to be having a nicotine fit by the time this is over. It was his last carton. "
Jason laughed. "I didn't know Strike Commanders smoked."
"They don't usually. Bell's the only one I know who does, and he's very careful never to do it where a Jil might get a whiff." He paused. "By the way, the word is that the person who rescued you is impersonating me."
"It's a reasonable assumption," Llwelling said. "But you can bet the Jil's going to want to read you soon, just to be sure. We'd better not waste time."
Carson nodded. "Okay, now what do you want me to do?"
Jason smiled impishly. "Now I want you to become a plain 'trol and wheel me down to the Jil's quarters -- on the serving cart. Do you have a spare blaster?"
Carson nodded jerkily. "Yeah." He thrust his blaster into Llwelling's hand. "Here. Take this one." He hesitated. "What if the Jil's already there?"
"I'll check first," Jason assured him.
"But to check, you'll have to lower your shields! Won't he sense you?"
Jason explained patiently. "A Jil usually won't detect a Terran psychic unless he's looking, sir -- by that I mean actively scanning. And at the moment Rachael's mind is going to be confusing his senses. She's an unshielded, extremely powerful psychic. The chance that Slinthvor will detect me if I just take a quick peek is almost nonexistent. Now, the plan is this. We've got to get hold of that Jil. Once we have him, we have bargaining power."
Carson nodded, then grimaced. "She's coming to! She's linking with me again!" The Subcommander swore unimaginatively. "She's still with that unprintable Jil!" He swore graphically and then seemed to recall that Lisa was present. He glanced apologetically at her.
Lisa appeared unmoved. "You two had better get going."
Jason nodded. "Switch your helmet, Subcommander! Hurry!"
Carson peeled the insignia from his helmet. "What about your wife?"
"Lisa's staying here until I signal her." Jason arranged the cloth from beneath, and saw Carson's hands pulling on it, straightening it. Carson turned away for an instant and he heard the opening swish of a wall panel.
"Ready?" Carson's voice said.
"Ready," Llwelling said.
There was a faint jar as the cart was wheeled from the cabin.
For a few moments the cart rolled quietly along and then paused. They must be at the lift, Jason thought. There was a tense silence as they waited. Then came the sound of the doors sliding open. He rolled forward again. There was a slight bump as they entered the lift.
"You okay, Jase?" Carson's voice asked softly.
"Fine. Thanks, sir."
"Listen, kid, if I'm going to call you Jase, you'd better call me Paul."
Llwelling felt a touch of amusement. "Okay, Paul."
"Good. Quiet, now." There came the sound of the lift doors sliding open again. The cart moved forward again, jolting slightly. Footsteps came toward them -- two men. Very carefully, Jason lowered his shielding a fraction.
They were patrolmen, assigned to search for the missing Undergrounders. Jason caught the impression of boredom, and the underlying conviction that the quarry had already escaped. Jase smiled to himself.
The men went on by, and Llwelling raised his shielding again. There had been no hint of the Jil's mind -- not in the immediate vicinity, anyway. He had caught the flicker from above him, almost masked by the terrified emanations from Rachael's mind.
"Here we are." It was Carson's voice, barely a breath. Jason tensed, waiting. Don't let the subcommander lose his nerve now -- please. If he did, they were all dead.
There was a sharp rapping sound, then the Procyon's soft, slurred tones. "Yesh? What ish it?"
Carson's voice spoke briskly. "Fresh fruit. M'lord ordered some brought to his stateroom."
There was the sound of a door sliding open, and then shut, followed instantly by the distinctive hum of a stunbeam. The Procyon's startled squawk was cut off abruptly.
Jason scrambled from beneath the cart, and dropped to his knees. With his blaster's needle beam, he ignited the carton of cigarettes, shoved the smoldering article beneath the bed, and glanced at Carson.
"Okay, sir -- I mean Paul -- you head back to your quarters and stay out of sight." He paused, a warning prickle coursing over him. Quickly he lowered his shielding a fraction.
The aura was unmistakable. Lord Slinthvor was approaching, and with him was Rachael.
Carson glanced quickly at him. "Rachael's getting closer!"
"They're coming!" Llwelling looked frantically around. "Get in the bathroom! Hurry!"
The subcommander obeyed unquestioningly. Llwelling flattened himself against the bulkhead beside the door, his body nearly completely hidden by a large, ornate plush chair.
The door slid open and the Jilectan entered. Behind him came two patrolmen, the figure of Rachael between them.
The atmosphere contamination alarm went off.
The sound was enough to lift the hair on Jason's head, and at the same instant Lord Slinthvor began to cough. The coughing quickly grew more violent, and the Jilectan sank to his knees, gasping and clawing at his throat. The two patrolmen ran to their master, their voices drowned in the blare of the alarm. Llwelling's blaster hummed twice.
The men dropped. Coolly, he stepped over to the door, sliding the locking bolt into place, and then rapped lightly on the bathroom door. "Okay; you can come out, now."
The subcommander emerged. He flinched slightly at the sight of the gagging, retching Jilectan. Rachael stared at him, her eyes wide and swimming in tears. He pulled off his helmet.
"Paul!" she cried. "Oh Paul!" She stumbled forward two steps.
He caught her as she all but fell into his arms. Llwelling spoke quickly.
"Call Bell. Tell him you're bringing the Jil and the prisoner out! Hurry!"
Holding Rachael in one arm, Carson pressed the control on his helmet. "Strike Commander, this is Carson. I have two men with me, and we are evacuating Lord Slinthvor and the prisoner. What is the nature of the contamination?"
"Not known yet." Bell's harried voice emerged from the unit. "We've got the analyzer crew on it. Evacuating the other personnel."
"Right. Meet you outside." Carson cut the transmission and glanced at Slinthvor's hunched form. "What'll we do with him?"
Jason went over to the bed. Leisurely, he removed the smoldering carton of cigarettes from beneath it and stamped out the fire. "There. We don't want him dead. That would be terribly inconvenient." He removed the jeweled blaster from the alien's holster and then confiscated the patrolmen's weapons. "Cuff their hands, and then help me with M'lord. We want him restrained, too."
"Right." Gently Carson removed the restrainers from Rachael's wrists and pushed her into one of the large, luxurious chairs, pulling the Patrol tunic closer around her bare shoulders. "Okay, honey, you just relax. We got things well in hand."
She nodded, looking from Llwelling to Carson. "What's going on?"
"You've been rescued, Mrs. Winslow," Llwelling said, kneeling beside one of the unconscious patrolmen. "We'll fill you in later. We're sort of on a tight schedule."
Carson was fastening the other man's hands behind him. Then together they turned to the Jilectan.
Slinthvor still retched miserably, his face a curious, light green hue. Carson grasped the large, slender hands, bringing them behind the alien's back. Slinthvor struggled feebly as Llwelling fastened the restrainers -- the same ones with which Rachael had been secured.
"Okay." Jason stood up. "Now, you head for the hatch, Paul, and as soon as the evacuation is complete, shut it and lock it. Then we'll deal with the analyzer crew. Don't leave the hatch, no matter what."
Carson nodded, glancing at Rachael. "Stay with Jase. He'll take care of you."
She smiled briefly, pulling the tunic more tightly around herself.
He started to say something else, then turned abruptly and went out. Llwelling looked at her soberly. "Are you okay, Mrs. Winslow?"
She nodded. "Now I am. He interrogated me." she shuddered. "It went on and on. I thought he'd never stop."
"I know." Jason looked down at the Jilectan again. "He was angry with you. He thinks you killed his son."
"I did kill his son." Rachael shuddered again. "I didn't mean to, but he burst in on me. I fired before I knew who he was."
"He must have detected you, and was coming to get you." Jason surveyed her soberly. "You're a very powerful psychic, Mrs. Winslow. Did you realize that?"
She shook her head. "Not until I killed the 'trol. I must have moved the blaster with telekinesis." She smiled shakily. "Surprised me as much as it did him."
"I'll bet." Jason knelt beside Slinthvor, wiping the alien's face with his handkerchief. "Doing better now, M'lord?"
Slinthvor glared at him, his face beaded with perspiration. "You'll die in the execution chair for this insult, Llwelling!"
Jason nodded soberly. "If I'm caught, I'm sure that's true, M'lord. However, I don't intend to be caught again if I can possibly help it. Now look, M'lord, threatening an Undergrounder is useless. You know that, don't you? I mean, if we're caught, it's the execution chair, after you've squeezed out everything you can get through interrogation. So it doesn't matter what I do. After Lisa and I escape, I could kill you if I liked. The penalty would still be the same."
"Terran psychic!" Slinthvor began to gag again. Jason waited patiently and then wiped away the film of sweat once more.
"That's right," he agreed amiably. "I'm a Terran psychic, and a darn good one. Inherited the talent from my father." He lifted an eyebrow at the alien. "Who was killed by the Jilectans ten years ago, along with my younger brother."
Slinthvor lifted his head. "Your father! If he was a psychic, he deserved to die -- just like you, Terran!"
Rachael's lips had thinned to a hard, straight line, and she began to speak. "Before all this began, I had my own ideas about the Jilectans. I thought the stories were propaganda -- that the grievances they had against Terrans were legitimate. I've never been so wrong about anything in my life. I can hardly believe what's happened in the last few hours, and I wouldn't believe it if I hadn't seen it with my own eyes." She frowned abruptly. "What happened to the girl who was with you? Is she still a prisoner?"
Jason shook his head. "Carson rescued us. We enchanted him with our evil psychic powers."
Rachael's eyebrows rose. "Oh." She glanced at the Jilectan. "I see."
One of the communicators on the deck beeped softly. Llwelling picked it up and activated the unit. "Yes?"
"All secure." It was Carson's deep voice.
"Good. Stay put." Llwelling lowered the helmet and spoke to the ever-present consciousness of Lisa in his mind. "All clear, honey. Come on down to the Jil's cabin, but watch for the analyzer crew."
"Be right there," came her ready response.
12
Strike Commander Bell surveyed the dark bulk of the Dragon with concern. The hatch was sealed, and so far Subcommander Carson had not appeared with Lord Slinthvor. Nor was Carson answering his hail. Bell tried uselessly to banish from his thoughts the vision of the defecting Subcommander Kevin Bronson. Could it possibly be that good, efficient, hard nosed Paul Carson was following in the crazy Subcommander's footsteps? No. He couldn't believe it. Not yet, anyway!
"Subcommander Carson, this is Strike Commander Bell! Respond immediately!"
No reply. Sublieutenant Montgomery beside him, glanced worriedly at the Strike Commander.
"Something's wrong, sir. I feel it in my bones."
"Me too." Bell swore under his breath. "Bring the girl's father over here. Maybe he can tell us something!"
The prisoner was brought. He was a short man, Bell noticed now, light-boned and slender -- rather like his daughter: blond, blue eyed, and delicate featured. He didn't appear to be at all frightened, although that might be an act. On the contrary, his expression was calm, his eyes meeting Bell's levelly.
"What's happened to your daughter?" Bell demanded.
A pale eyebrow lifted. "How should I know? I haven't seen her since I was taken prisoner."
Bell glared at him. "You know, all right. You and your brat are both psychics. Slinthvor said so. Tell me what's happened to her -- and to Lord Slinthvor! Talk! Or by the stars I'll beat you to a pulp!"
The man met his eyes squarely. "I'm facing the execution chair, Strike Commander. A little brutality from you doesn't scare me much. Besides, I couldn't tell you anything if I wanted to. It's true, I'm a psychic, but I'm not trained. I tried to contact the Underground after I found out -- but I couldn't." He stiffened his shoulders and appeared to brace himself. "Go ahead, Strike Commander. I'm ready."
Bell stared at the calm little man with rapidly increasing anger. "Look, Damn you, I'm going to make you talk if it's the last thing I do!" He gestured to the man's two guards. "Hold him!"
The guards caught Sanderson's already restrained arms and propelled him forward a step. Strike Commander Bell drew his blaster, flicking the setting to needle beam. "The Jil won't mind if a few of your toes are missing, twerp. It won't show on the videocameras."
He stopped, the breath catching in his throat as a voice spoke over his helmet communicator.
"Strike Commander Bell, this is Jason Llwelling. Come in."
The Commander's thoughts skidded to a stop. Llwelling! What the devil was he doing with a Patrol communicator?
He pressed the transmit control. "Llwelling, this is Bell."
"Good evening, sir." The psychic's voice was very cordial. "I am aboard the battlecruiser with Subcommander Carson, Mrs. Winslow, and Lord Slinthvor. M'lord is a prisoner and if you do not do exactly as I say, I'll kill him and take off. Do I make myself clear, sir?"
Bell stared at the prisoner before him, shock coursing through him. Carson was a prisoner, then! The Undergrounders had caught him and Slinthvor, both! How in the devil had those two characters managed it?
On the com there was a spitting sound then an agonized scream. Lord Slinthvor's voice emerged, trembling and weak. "Do as he says, Strike Commander!"
"M'lord! Are you all right?"
"He burned me with a needle beam! Do as he says at once!"
"Yes, m'lord!" Quickly Bell addressed the criminal again. "What are your demands, Llwelling?"
Jason Llwelling's calm, polite tones emerged. "You are to free all the prisoners -- all the colonists, Mrs. Winslow's father, and the boy who was being held in the cell with us. Allow them to board the cruiser. Oh, wait, I'll let you keep one prisoner -- a man by the name of Jesse Hutton. The rest we want back."
"Do as he says, Strike Commander!" Slinthvor's voice spoke again. "Hurry."
Bell helplessly complied. "Montgomery, go tell them to free the prisoners -- all of them -- except this Jesse Hutton guy. Bring them here. Hurry!"
"Thank you, Commander," Llwelling's voice said. "When you've got them assembled, call me and we'll open the hatch. Don't delay, understand, or I shall have to assume that you might be operating in bad faith, and Lord Slinthvor will pay the price."
"Obey, Strike Commander!" Slinthvor's voice commanded, filled with rage and terror. "Do not delay!"
It seemed longer than it probably actually was, Bell knew, but in a remarkably short time a mob of humanity appeared, being herded toward the great battlecruiser by a group of patrolmen. He triggered his communicator.
"Bell to Dragon."
The response was immediate. "Llwelling here."
"We have all the prisoners here, Llwelling. We’re ready. Now release Lord Slinthvor!"
The voice on the communicator sounded slightly amused. "All in good time, Strike Commander. We're opening the hatch now. Allow the prisoners to come aboard."
Above him the hatch of the great battlecruiser slid aside. A black clad form was, for a moment, silhouetted against the lighted airlock.
**********
"I've put the men down in the rec room and the women and children in the crew's quarters," Paul Carson's voice said over the ship intercom. "There's about three hundred in all, and our survey reported this colony's population's four hundred and fifty. Some undoubtedly escaped -- either in ships or into the forest -- and a few certainly were killed."
Jason heard the unmistakable sound of a dog barking in the background. "Have you got a dog in there, Paul? What's going on?"
Carson's voice sounded amused. "Several of the animals apparently followed their owners when the prisoners came on board. I didn't try to stop them. I put them in with the colonists. There's a goat, too. I'm not sure what to do with it."
Jason laughed. "Bell probably figures it serves us right. All right; hold on." He glanced at his wife and then at Lord Slinthvor, who still crouched on the deck.
Beside the Jilectan, face down, were the two cuffed guards and five men clad in the protective suits of the atmosphere analyzer crew. They had been picked up easily by Lisa on her way down to the Jilectan's lounge, for they had been together, and unarmed. Lisa had read their minds, determined that they were the only ones left aboard, and then marched them to the lounge ahead of her.
"Keep an eye on them," he said. "I'm going to have a word with the rescued. Then we'll get out of here."
She nodded in a businesslike fashion. "No problem."
The rec room was jammed with close to a hundred men. As Llwelling entered, a rousing cheer went up, and one tall, imposing man came forward to shake his hand heartily. Several others also crowded forward, but he motioned them back.
"It's okay. Listen, Paul, you'd better get up to the control room and get her ready to go. I'll be there in a minute."
Carson grinned, sketched a salute, and went out. The men watched him go, and Llwelling sensed mixed emotions from the crowd.
"You sure he's on the level?" It was the sheriff speaking. "He's a 'trol, and --"
"He's on our side," Llwelling said, surveying the crowd. In the background, someone's dog barked several times and then subsided at a word from its apparent owner. "He rescued my partner and me. He can't go back now. It would be suicide."
"But why did he do it?" "Who is he?" "Is he an Undergrounder?" The babble of questions went up. Llwelling raised his hands for silence.
"I can't answer your questions now." He smiled reassuringly at their anxious faces. "I'm just asking you to trust me. Carson's on the level. We're taking you to Midgard. There are several colonies there, and you should be able to establish yourselves without trouble. It's not quite such a nice planet as Balka, but at least it's Patrol-free."
A general laugh went up.
"But what about my wife?" It was a man in his middle years who hadn't spoken. "She escaped into the woods on Balka. The Patrol's bound to find her eventually."
Llwelling nodded. "I'm sure that many of you have relatives and friends that you're wondering about. The Underground will send rescue crews after we get back to the base, and any persons found will also be sent to Midgard."
"What about our possessions?" the sheriff asked. "Everything we have is here in our homes."
Llwelling smiled faintly. "If you want to go back for anything, sheriff, be my guest."
The sheriff hesitated, looking a little ashamed. "Sorry. Guess I'm lucky to be alive, aren't I?"
"Yeah," another man said. "You are. Keep your mouth shut, Henry."
Llwelling hid a smile. "Midgard has a spaceport, and good mail service. If any of you want to go elsewhere, it'll be easy to do so." He paused as the whine of the Dragon's engines began.
"Ready for liftoff, Captain," Carson's voice said out of the air. "All passengers, strap in if you are able. If you are not able, sit or lie down and brace for acceleration."
Llwelling pressed a button on the wall. "Be right there, Paul."
All the men had seated themselves on the deck, their bodies jammed together in the small space. Llwelling had proceeded to the doorway, but turned back briefly.
"I'll be back soon, as soon as the ship is in hyperspace, and we'll try to make you more comfortable. In the meantime, stay here." He went out, closing the door behind him.
Carson was seated at the control panel, and glanced around as Llwelling entered. "Everybody happy?"
"Well, not exactly happy, but they're all glad to be rescued." He pressed the transmit button on the helmet com, which lay on a chair beside the subcommander. "Strike Commander Bell, we're taking off, now. Please tell your men to stand back."
"What about Lord Slinthvor?" Bell's sounded horrified. "Release His Lordship before you depart, Llwelling! I demand that you release him!"
Llwelling spoke calmly. "Lord Slinthvor is a prisoner of war, Commander, and let me remind you that you are in no position to demand anything." He spoke into the ship's com. "Ready, Lisa?"
His wife's voice responded at once. "We're at the hatch."
"Good." He glanced at Carson. "Be ready to take off, Subcommander."
Carson nodded. "Ready at your command, sir."
"Okay, Lisa. Go."
There was a moment's silence. Through his link with his partner, Llwelling saw Lord Slinthvor, the analyzer crew, and the two guards heading down the boarding ramp at a run, their hands still cuffed behind them. Then the hatch slid shut.
*They're off, Jase.* Lisa's voice spoke in his mind. *Better give 'em a few seconds to get clear.*
Llwelling counted slowly to twenty and then nodded to Carson. "Okay, let's go."
Carson leaned over the pilot's board and the 'Dragon' lifted majestically from Balka.
**********
"Colonel Westover!" General Kaley's secretary burst into the office without warning, her eyes wide with alarm. "A patrol battlecruiser just showed up on our scanners! It popped out of hyperspace not thirty seconds ago!"
"Oh, great!" Alan Westover, temporarily in charge of the Lavirra Underground Base, leaped to his feet. "Sound the general alert, and signal the defense fleet to converge on the ship. Where's Colonel Linley?"
"I don't know, sir. He's off duty."
"Okay, never mind." Alan ran from the room, almost colliding with Colonel Burke as he exited. "Lee! We've got a battlecruiser up there! Get the defense fleet moving!"
"Already on the way, Colonel." Burke fell in beside him, puffing a little as they ran toward the communications room. "What I don't understand is why nobody got any warning -- not even Jackie! She's the best long range precog we know of, but --"
"What?"
"I'm still not getting a warning. Are you?"
"No." Alan shook his head as he entered the communications room. "Let's hope we're all right, and there's no danger -- but right now I've got a Jil battlecruiser up there. I can't ignore that. Where the dickens is Mark?"
"Here, kid." Former Strike Commander Mark Linley appeared in the doorway. "I hear we got a 'trol on our scanners. What's the scoop?"
"I don't know, yet." Alan cleared his throat, glancing anxiously at the screen. "Come on in, Mark. I need your advice."
Linley obeyed, joining him at the screens, and waved down the two privates who started to rise as he entered. "Is it definitely a battlecruiser?"
"Yes sir," Private McKinney answered. "Looks like the 'Dragon'."
"That's Bell's ship. What the hell's he doin' here? We didn't get any warnin's of a survey or anythin'. You got the base on alert?"
"Yes," Alan said
"An' the Fleet's on its way?"
"Yes."
"Well, there ain't much more to do, then, 'til we know what's goin' on. See? You didn't really need my help."
Alan smiled faintly. "How's Kaley?"
"Doin' okay, I hear, but won't be able to go back to work for another week. What'sa matter? Don'tcha like bein' on the hot seat?"
Alan made a face at him. "I'm getting writer's cramp from signing my name so much."
"I know what'cha mean. I used to have the same complaint aboard the 'Wolverine'."
Alan scowled. "There should be a law against C.O.s getting appendicitis."
Mark laughed.
Private McKinney looked up from the board. "Message coming in now, sir." He paused. "It's from Captain Llwelling!"
"Jase!" Alan was behind McKinney, peering over his shoulder. Jason Llwelling's voice spoke clearly over the unit.
"This is Captain Llwelling, presently in command of the battlecruiser 'Dragon'. Don't panic down there. Everything's okay."
"What the devil --" Mark began.
Llwelling's voice continued. "I've taken the cruiser from Strike Commander Bell. Subcommander Carson is still on board, but he's on our side now."
"I hope he knows what he's doin'" Linley said. "Carson's a sharp guy; a real hardnose. I've heard his reputation."
Alan laughed suddenly. "Do you suppose Jase has managed to recruit another 'trol for us?"
"Could be." Mark grinned. "Damn psychics! Maybe Carson's a power pack, an' Jase linked with him."
"Maybe," Alan said. "That might explain it."
"Message coming in from the Fleet Commander," McKinney said, his voice slightly dazed. "On speaker."
"This is Major Pierson. Everything's okay. I've spoken to Captain Llwelling telepathically, and he assures me that he's in command of the cruiser. Can't wait to get the full story. Returning to normal patrol."
Alan looked at Mark. "I can't wait to hear it either."
**********
It was some twenty minutes later when the door of Kaley's office opened and several people entered, shepherded by Jason Llwelling. Lisa, Jason's wife, followed the crowd in. Alan rose to his feet, surveying the group with interest.
The most prominent was a tall, handsome man in the black and scarlet uniform of the Viceregal Patrol. Following him was a diminutive, very attractive young woman, clad in ragged shorts and a sagging Patrol tunic. She attracted his attention at once because of the strong psychic aura she broadcast.
Behind her were three other figures: a short man, also a psychic, who resembled the woman to a strong degree, a slender woman, close to his height and about the same age, and a red-headed boy of about ten. Trailing him was a dirty, ragged mongrel that showed strong signs of terrier ancestry, and probably a number of other breeds.
"Well," Alan said after a moment. "You've brought us quite a crowd -- and another battlecruiser, too, I understand."
Linley chuckled. "If we keep this up, half the Underground's fleet is gonna be made up of Jil cruisers."
"So who do we have here?" Alan continued.
Llwelling turned toward his companions. "This is Mrs. Rachael Winslow, her father, Ron Sanderson and her stepmother, Elizabeth. As you already have detected, Colonel, Rachael and her father are psychics."
Alan extended a hand. "How do you do. Welcome to the Terran Underground." He shook hands with the three people. "I hope you'll be happy here."
"And this," Llwelling resumed, "is Alan Jefferson. He's named after you. Alan, this is Alan Westover."
The boy stared at him in awe. "Are you really Alan Westover?"
Alan felt his cheeks growing warm at the unconcealed admiration in the child's tone. "Yes, I really am."
"Did you *really* outdraw a Jil?"
Mark grinned at the child. "He sure did. You should o' seen him, kid. He disarmed a 'trol and shot the Jil. Saved my life."
The boy's eyes were shining. "Really?"
"Yep. I saw the whole thing."
Alan cleared his throat. "Time for that later, please. How did you happen to come along, Alan?"
The boy looked confused, glancing at Jason. Jason put an arm around his shoulders.
"I had to bring him, Colonel. He didn't have anywhere else to go. His parents were dead, and his stepmom's an alcoholic. Besides, he saved our lives on Balka -- Lisa's and mine. I figured he'd fit in pretty well." He glanced at the dog. "This is Petey. He'd been hanging around the battlecruiser ever since Alan was taken on board, I guess. When Alan was evacuated, Petey must have spotted him, and followed him back on board later with the other released prisoners -- along with about ten other dogs and a goat."
Linley snorted. "What happened to the rest o' the menagerie?"
"We left them with their owners on Midgard, but since Petey was Alan's, he came with us. If it's all right with you we'll take them home with us."
Alan looked at the boy. "Is that what you want, Alan?"
The little boy looked at Jason and Lisa, and nodded.
"All right, then," Alan said. He extended a hand to Alan Jefferson. "Welcome to the Terran Underground." He turned to the patrolman. "You must be Subcommander Carson."
The man nodded, looking slightly uncomfortable.
Alan frowned suddenly. "Have we met before?"
Carson cleared his throat. "I was a lieutenant on the 'Leviathan' when you were taken, Colonel."
"Oh. That must be why you looked familiar." Alan shrugged. "Jase?"
"I probed him, sir." Llwelling answered the unspoken query. "He's on the level, no question. He's … linked to Mrs. Winslow."
Linley's eyebrows flew up. "No kiddin'? Well, well, well!"
Alan glanced at Lisa. "Captain, there's no reason to keep this young man anymore. Why don't you take him and his friend here --" he glanced at Petey -- "home, and get him settled in? He can be enrolled in school tomorrow morning."
"Good idea, Colonel," Lisa said, blandly. "Come on, Alan. Jason can finish the report without us."
"Okay." The boy followed Lisa from the room, trailed by the dog.
When the door slid shut behind them, Alan turned to Jason. "You're saying the Subcommander is a power pack?"
"Affirmative, Colonel. A power pack linked to Mrs. Winslow."
"I'm a what?" Carson demanded.
"A power pack. A psychic power pack," Mark said. "Welcome to the club, Carson."
"What's a power pack?" Rachael asked.
"This is top secret," Alan explained quietly. "Known only to the psychics of the Underground, and a very few others. That covers everyone here. But don't talk about it to anyone but a psychic. The Jils don't know they exist. You see, Subcommander -- you're a very special kind of psychic. We've only found four others, so far."
Carson was staring at him. "What are you talking about? I'm not a psychic!"
"Yes, you are," Jason said. "That was the part we didn't dare tell you until we were safe. You were born a psychic in all ways but one. You lack whatever element it is that lets you control your psychic ability. We call it the control factor. No one can sense your power. But your mind is a perfect complement for your symbiotic partner -- Rachael -- and she can tap that power and use it to boost her own. She'll be able to do things that no ordinary psychic like Lisa and I can -- with your help."
The former patrolman frowned. "I'm not sure I understand."
Mark chuckled. "Join the club, like I said, Carson. I'm one, and I don't understand it either. So is m'brother -- Subcommander Bronson. Remember him? We're both the Colonel's power packs. But you'll feel it the first time that young lady beside you needs extra power. It'll drain out of you like water from a tap -- and she'll do things no Jil can ever do, no matter how good he thinks he is. Just wait. You'll see."
Carson stared at Llwelling. "I guess that's why all those things were happening on the ship."
"Exactly," Jason said. "I couldn't tell you more than I did, because you might have been read by the Jil. You had to save Rachael's life, because she's your psychic partner, just like Lisa and I are partners. You'll find out all about it before long."
Carson blinked. "I guess I will."
"Now," Alan continued briskly, "give me a summary of your report, Captain. You can turn in a more detailed one later."
In a few quick sentences, Llwelling outlined the events on Balka. Alan listened in silence until he had finished, then spoke. "Good work, Captain. Mark, see about rescue parties to Balka to pick up any survivors. Since Jason left the Jil and his 'trols with no transportation, and blasted the hyperspace transmitter after takeoff it's likely they haven't found any way off world yet, so the parties probably won't meet much resistance."
"Bet ol' Slinthvor's havin' conniptions by now," Mark said. "Good job, Jase."
"Thank you, sir," Llwelling said.
Mark went out and Alan nodded to the Captain as well. "You can go, too, Jase. Have the House Officer find Mr. and Mrs. Sanderson quarters in the MOQ."
Jason stood up. "Right away, Colonel."
When the door closed, Alan surveyed Rachael and Carson thoughtfully. What should he say? The girl's pregnancy was very early. In fact, he was sure she was not yet aware of it.
He cleared his throat. "Mrs. Winslow --"
Rachael was looking worried. "Is anything wrong, Colonel Westover?"
"Not necessarily." He frowned. The chances were, the child was a result of her short marriage. But she had been in the power of the Viceregal patrolmen for at least a day. He took the plunge. "You're pregnant."
Her expression went blank. "Pregnant?"
"Yes."
"How do you know?"
"I'm a clairvoyant. You're carrying a psychic baby."
Her hands went involuntarily to her middle. "I can't be very far along."
"I know," Alan said. "No more than a few days."
She glanced at Carson. He grinned a little. "What're you looking so serious about, Rach?"
She looked back at Alan, her eyes widening. "Is something wrong, Colonel? Is that why you're so upset about this? Is it against the rules to be pregnant on Lavirra?"
Alan felt his cheeks redden. "Of course not. We encourage our psychics to have children."
"He was afraid," Carson put in, "that I might be the dad."
"Oh!" Rachael shook her head quickly. "Oh, no, Colonel." The slight smile on her lips faded, and she blinked back tears. "It's Ryan's -- my husband's. He was killed on Balka."
Alan looked at Carson, a little ashamed of himself. "Pardon me, Subcommander. I should have known better."
Carson shook his head. "No you shouldn't have, Colonel. I guess you know 'trols pretty well, don't you?"
"Maybe, but I also know psychic partners. I should have more faith. My apologies."
Rachael interrupted. "I'd like to tell Daddy. Where is he?"
"Talking with Colonel Burke," Alan said. "He and Captain Llwelling never made it out of the building. They're down the hall to the left."
"I'll be right back." Rachael hurried out.
Carson glanced after her. "She's had a hard time," he said unnecessarily. "I couldn't figure out what was happening to me -- I kept hearing her calling me, and that interrogation --"
"Same thing happened to me an' Kevin when you guys had Alan on the 'Leviathan'," Linley said. "I guess you ain't exactly surprised at what he did, now."
"That's for sure," Carson said, with feeling. "At least she's safe, now, and I can relax a bit. Hope she doesn't get any ideas about me, though, even if I am her partner. 'Trols aren't much on sticking with one woman, you know."
Before Alan's mental vision flashed the thought of the enormous number of man and wife psychic teams in the Terran Underground. He smiled faintly. "Of course not, Subcommander," he said.
The End
