Volcano Island Chapter 17
by Nancy Smith and Linda Garrick
Chapter 17
“Sven, look out!”
Thoroski spun, bringing his blaster up as the figure of a Viceregal patrolman appeared in the doorway. Both weapons cracked simultaneously and Thoroski threw himself down, scrambling for cover. Lyla’s telepathic talent, he realized, had just saved his life, for she must have detected the man’s presence just before he had stepped through the door.
From behind the broad divan occupied by the remains of the librarian, Lyla screamed another warning and he caught the name “Pomothvor”. At the same instant, his blaster was wrenched from his grasp and went spinning across the room. Thoroski dove after it.
A booted foot descended on his extended hand, crushing it into the littered floor of the Library. He froze, looking up into the muzzle of Corporal Butler’s blaster.
“Do not fire, Corporal.” It was the perfectly annunciated words of the Jilectan, and behind the patrolman appeared the muscular form of Lord Pomothvor. Icy grey eyes took in the scene and Pomothvor smiled mirthlessly.
“You may rise, Strike Commander,” he said.
The blaster in the patrolman’s hand writhed suddenly, leaped free of the man’s grip and spun through the air toward Lyla. The man gave a startled yip and grabbed wildly for it.
Pomothvor’s blaster hummed and Lyla dropped to the floor. The blaster fell with a clatter.
Thoroski was on his feet, but Pomothvor’s weapon was already covering him again. Butler hurried past him and picked up the blaster that Lyla had snatched via telekinesis. He turned the weapon on Thoroski once more. “Remove your helmet.”
Thoroski did so, reluctantly.
“Why, Strike Commander Thoroski,” Pomothvor said, “I certainly did not expect to find you here.” He smiled thinly. “A number of things are now explained, I believe, the first being how the Underground discovered our mission to this planet.” His smile vanished. “I have some questions.”
Thoroski swallowed, unable to take his eyes from the Jilectan. Pomothvor came lightly forward and his hand reached out with blurring speed to catch Thoroski by the wrist. Skillfully, he brought the arm up and twisted.
“You have a confederate aboard the ship, of course.” Pomothvor spoke conversationally. “Who is it?”
Thoroski gritted his teeth, trying desperately to consider his next move logically. “M’lord,” he tried, “I know how this must look to you, but I can explain. This girl knew where the archives were. I was going to report the location of the library to you.”
“Indeed, Strike Commander.” Another mirthless smile. “But don’t you think you have delayed long enough?”
“I was just about to stun her when you arrived, sir.”
Pomothvor twisted his arm again and Thoroski sank to his knees, biting off a gasp of pain. “It’s the truth, M’lord!”
“Oh come, Strike Commander; you don’t expect me to believe that, do you? How did you lie to this girl without her detecting it? She is a telepath, you know.”
“Sir –“
“You are shielded – that much is obvious – and your shielding is undetectable even to me. Where did you learn it?”
Thoroski remained silent, biting his lip.
“Well, Strike Commander, you don’t really need to answer that, do you? Of course, the Terran Underground taught you. You are an agent of their organization – a very clever agent. And, of course, you have a confederate aboard the ship who sent the message to the Underground after the diphaser malfunction. Who is it?”
The patrolman looked at Pomothvor. “It’s probably the doctor, M’lord. They’re friends.”
The pressure on his arm increased. “Is it the doctor, Strike Commander?”
“No,” Thoroski said.
“Then, who?”
“Patrolman Arnold Paine,” Thoroski said.
Butler’s jaw dropped. “Paine?”
“He is lying,” the Jilectan said. “Talk, Strike Commander, or I shall break your arm.”
Thoroski closed his eyes and braced himself.
A blaster cracked and the sound bounced deafeningly around the room. Pomothvor’s grip on Thoroski’s wrist was suddenly gone and the Strike Commander opened his eyes to see the big alien sprawl ungracefully to the floor beside him.
“Holy cat!” Butler started forward. “M’lord!”
Thoroski leaped, catching him waist high and hurling him backward. Butler’s weapon went spinning away and the two men went down in a clawing, grasping tangle on the floor. Butler’s hands closed on Thoroski’s throat and applied pressure.
Thoroski managed to get a knee in the man’s stomach and wrenched free. The Corporal cursed breathlessly, clawing for Thoroski’s face. Thoroski rolled sideways, and scrambled for the blaster which lay a few meters beyond his reach. His hand closed on the grip as he felt Butler grasp his ankle. Desperately, he rolled to his back and fired.
The grip on his ankle relaxed and was gone.
Thoroski scrambled forward and flipped off the man’s helmet transmitter, and then, at last, he turned toward the figure of his rescuer, standing in the doorway.
He had dropped his handlight with the appearance of the patrolman and the light now illuminated a swath of floor and the divan, behind which Lyla had fallen. The light on Butler’s belt was concealed beneath his body and in the dimness, Thoroski could see only the form of a man, clad as a patrolman, standing in the doorway.
He let out his breath in a long sigh. “Thanks.”
The silhouette didn’t move. Thoroski picked up his light and flashed it over his rescuer.
The helmet the man wore bore the insignia of the Viceregal Patrol’s Medical Corps. It was Wayne Gallagher.
The figure swayed slightly. Thoroski scrambled to his feet and ran to his ship’s doctor.
“Easy, Doc, easy.” He grabbed the doctor, swept the skeleton from the divan with one arm, lowered Gallagher to a sitting position and pulled the helmet from his head. “Head between your knees, Wayne.”
The doctor blinked at him, uncomprehending. Firmly, Thoroski shoved Gallagher’s face into his lap. “Take some deep breaths. You’ll feel better in a moment. Just stay there. I’ve gotta go turn on the forcefield again.
Gallagher didn’t speak and his head remained in his lap. Thoroski ran out of the building and back toward the forcefield control.
The field was already on. Gallagher must have done it, he realized. Well off to his left, two or three hundred meters away, he caught the flicker of handlights. Well, they couldn’t do anything about the forcefield, even if they did figure out that the Jil was inside it. He turned and ran back to the library.
He went up the steps three at a time and entered the building once more. Gallagher was no longer on the divan but Thoroski located him at once. The doctor was kneeling on the littered floor beside Lyla, who had awakened from the stun bolt. She was sobbing and retching by turns. Gallagher was holding her shoulders and speaking soothingly. Thoroski smiled with relief. The doctor would be all right now. His natural instincts had reasserted themselves.
After a few moments, Lyla ceased to retch and Gallagher lowered her to the floor again. Slowly, he straightened and turned to look at Thoroski, standing in the doorway. He started violently, his hand groping awkwardly for his blaster.
“It’s me, Doc.” The Strike Commander came slowly forward and took the doctor’s hand, shaking it solemnly. “Thanks,” he said.
Gallagher swallowed convulsively. “You’re welcome.”
“Hold it!” a voice barked.
Thoroski froze and Gallagher jerked convulsively. Two large figures charged into the room, blasters leveled.
“On your faces!” It was the voice of former Strike Commander Mark Linley.
Thoroski grinned and placed a calming hand on Gallagher’s arm.
“It’s all right, Wayne. He’s covering for me.” He turned to Linley. “It’s okay, Mark. Allow me to introduce my ship’s doctor, Wayne Gallagher – the newest member of the Terran Underground, who saved my life not ten minutes ago.” He pointed to Pomothvor’s inanimate form sprawled on the floor.
Linley lowered the blaster and flashed his handlight over the dead Jilectan. He gave a low whistle. “Pomothvor?”
Thoroski nodded.
Two much shorter figures appeared in the doorway behind the apparent patrolmen. Thoroski grinned suddenly. “Hi Colonel Westover.”
Alan Westover took in the scene and his eyebrows went up. “Are you all right, Sven?”
“Yeah. Thanks to Wayne, here. This is Wayne Gallagher, my ship’s doctor. He just saved Lyla and me from His Lordship. Doc, I’d like you to meet Alan Westover.”
Gallagher swallowed again and stepped forward, holding out a hand. “We’ve met,” he said uncomfortably. “It’s good to meet you again, Colonel. I’m glad to see you’re looking better than you were when I saw you last.”
Alan Westover was an empath, Thoroski reminded himself, so he wasn’t surprised at his reply to the doctor. He clasped the doctor's hand and smiled. “It’s good to see you again, too, Dr. Gallagher. Doubly so, since you saved Sven’s life. I’ve heard about Pomothvor.”
Thoroski dropped to one knee beside Lyla. “How do you feel, honey?”
Lyla smiled shakily. “Better.”
He helped her to her feet and addressed the others. “Lyla found this place. It’s the library. She was collecting stuff when Pomothvor interrupted us.”
“Well,” Linley said practically, “No sense lettin’ the Jil interrupt somethin’ important. Kid, why don’t you and Lyla do your stuff while Jeff an’ me go get the scout. Nobody’s gonna bother us. We’re just another search party in the dark.” He glanced at Gallagher. “But I want to hear the whole story when we get back.” He hesitated, and then thrust out a hand to grasp the doctor’s. “Thanks for helpin’ Doc.”
Gallagher shrugged awkwardly. “It was nothing -- I think.”
Linley grinned. “Sure it was.” He glanced at the other man in Patrol uniform. “Ready, Jeff?”
They went out, and the two psychometrists went over to the shelves, beginning to select the discs once more.
Gallagher seated himself on the divan again, still looking a little pale. Slowly, he removed his helmet and wiped his forehead.
Thoroski sat down beside him. “How are you doing, Doc?”
Gallagher looked at him. “I can’t believe what I just did. I’m a Jil-killer!”
“Yeah. You saved my neck, too,” Thoroski said.
“But – a Jil! Holy –“
Alan Westover was suddenly standing beside the doctor. “They’re just as mortal as the rest of us, Doctor – in spite of all the jewels and furs. I’m a Jil-killer, too, and I didn’t exactly plan to do it, either – only I was saving Mark’s life. “
“Yeah. But somehow, it’s a little different when it’s personal.”
Westover smiled understandingly. “I know. But you did the right thing.”
“I guess so.”
“You mean you didn’t want to save my life?” Thoroski asked, raising an eyebrow.
“Well – yeah. But what do I do now?”
“We’ll work it out. Remember who you’re dealing with here.” Thoroski chuckled. “Look at it this way. You’re not going to have to patch up any more patrolmen on the way home. It’ll be just your normal, dull routine.”
“I like dull,” Gallagher said. “I love routine.”
“Good,” Westover said, a faint smile on his lips. “Routine and boring are our watchwords.”
Gallagher rolled his eyes. “I can tell,” he said ironically. “This is one hell of a boring mission.”
Thoroski grinned.
**********
tbc
