Copyright 2003
This is an original work of fiction by two authors, based solely on our imaginations. Any resemblance of any character to any other person, living, dead or fictional, is coincidental and unintentional. The authors retain all rights to this work. It is copyrighted to Nancy Smith and Linda Garrick, and the copyright may not be infringed.
A little explanation is in order.
Something like fifteen or twenty years ago, my sister Linda and I wrote a science fiction series consisting of a number of short stories. We read them to our children, and I credit the interest that our kids had in the stories with their learning to be excellent readers. It showed them that reading could be fun, which was something that their schools had failed abysmally to teach them.
Eventually, based on the short stories, we wrote a book-length novel. That was the story that I'm presenting here. When this board was created and I saw the category for original fiction, I asked Linda for her permission to post it, and she agreed. I hope you enjoy it.
Feedback is more than welcome. I promised Linda, who doesn't have a computer, that I would relay any comments made about it to her.
Those who know my writing will probably notice both similarities and significant differences to my usual style; not surprisingly, as she and I collaborated with the plot, wrote different parts of the story, and both of us edited each other's work. Enjoy.
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Slave Race: 1/?
by Nan Smith and Linda Garrick
Introduction:
When Terra broke into interstellar space, late in the 21st Century, they thought the last barrier to their species had been broken, and Terrans quickly began to colonize the habitable worlds nearest their home system. But some ten Terran years after their entrance into space, the expanding Terran Confederation ran head on into the Jilectan Autonomy.
The war between the Jilectan Autonomy and the Terran Confederation, otherwise known as the Psychic Conflict, was the inevitable result of the situation existing between the two stellar nations.
The Jilectans had been a space-faring species for some two centuries before Terra entered space. Until their meeting with the Terrans, the Jilectans, a race of large, humanoid psychics, had never encountered another intelligent species with psychic power of its own. The Terrans, up until then a minor race of beings originating from the stellar system of Sol, were to gain sudden galactic importance.
Like all other inferior -- that is, non-Jilectan -- species, Humanity was marked for subjugation and enslavement by the Jilectan Autonomy, but the plans of the would-be conquerors went awry from the first.
Terra boasted a unique folklore containing wizards, witches, fortune-tellers and dealers in the occult -- a fact that should have warned the Jilectans at once of their danger. But the psychic species had never before encountered a psychic rival; the warning went unheeded. The existence of Terran psychics was not discovered for three-quarters of a Terran century, during which time the Autonomy went methodically about its plans for conquest.
A prolific species, the Jilectans needed habitable planets for their exploding population; wars which destroyed promising worlds were avoided whenever possible. Humans, and other intelligent species in the sector, were gradually incorporated into the large class of beings who served the psychic masters.
The discovery of Terran psychics in the latter half of the 22nd Century marked a new chapter in the covert relations between the Autonomy and the Confederation, which at the time spanned ten solar systems. The instant reaction of the Jilectans was a desperate attempt to exterminate their psychic rivals, an attempt doomed from the start for reasons discussed later in this chapter.(1) The response of the Confederation was the Psychic Breeding Program...
Unable to openly defy the Jilectans, Terra had taken another form of resistance.
Terran Military Intelligence, under the brilliant Admiral Michael Weaver, Terran Space Corps, Ret., invented a resistance movement called the Terran Underground. The agents of this movement were technically outlaws and were blamed for every act of Terran defiance, thus protecting their government from retribution. Some Terrans were resistant to the telepathic powers of the Jilectans, and Terran Intelligence employed such persons to infiltrate the Jilectan organization. Finally, one agent was able to steal information on Jilectan psychic training methods, enabling ordinary Terrans to learn the techniques of mind shielding.
Three bases were set up on remote worlds, and persons showing the slightest sign of paranormal abilities were collected and sent to these refuges to live in safety, and to multiply, to arm the Terran Confederation with the equal of their enemies' power.
While the Jilectans tried diligently to eliminate their competition, Teams of Terran psychics were employed as spies, gathering vital information for future use. Alliances were forged between Terra and other star-faring nations that faced similar fates at the hands of the Autonomy. This covert war continued for nearly three decades, culminating at last in the Terran Revolt of 2204, which expelled the Jilectans from the Terran Sector and established the Federation of Free Planets, which exists today...(2)
(1)Lyla W. Philips M.D., "The Hidden Psychic: Genetic Physiology of the Psychic Power Pack", (Nova Luna; Nova Luna Press, 2214)
(2)Stannar, PhD, Excerpted from a lecture: "The Psychic Conflict: A Motivational Analysis", Dept of Galactic History, University of Ceregon, 2276)
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Chapter 1
Corala
September 7, 2169
Cecil Warren opened the door of the small, jewelry store. Loreen stepped through, glancing uncertainly at him. He smiled confidently at her, took her elbow and led her up to the counter.
The jeweler was a fat little man with a bald head, wearing a suit dating back at least twenty years. He approached the counter quickly, rubbing his pudgy hands together, his eyes bright.
"Hi, kids. I'll bet you're looking for an engagement ring, aren't you?"
"Yes, we are," Cecil replied, confidently. "What can you show us?"
"Just step this way, sir."
As they followed the man, Loreen saw him glance at her. She knew what he was thinking. What did a good-looking fellow like Cecil see in a girl like her? She'd often wondered that, herself. She was tall; too tall, reaching nearly to Cecil's eyebrows in height, her shoulders were narrow and sloping, and her hips were wide. Her figure was the inevitable pear shape, and she had a maddening tendency to gain weight. Her hair was dark brown, straight, coarse, and difficult to control. Her eyes were a boring shade of hazel, and all in all, physically, she had little going for her. Cecil was a sharp contrast to her. He was well built, his skin tanned. Most women thought him very attractive. Loreen, herself, did. The only times she thought him unattractive was when he'd had a little too much to drink. However, such occurrences were infrequent. After all, most men drank. Loreen's own father did, although he never became abusive when he was drunk as Cecil was inclined to do. Still, Loreen was sure that her future husband would outgrow the habit. He was, after all, only twenty-three. Practically a boy.
"This is a nice piece," the jeweler was saying. "Try it on, young lady."
Loreen took the ring and slipped it on her finger. It wouldn't go past the knuckle. Her hands, like the rest of her, were large and a little plump. She drew the ring off and gave it back. "Do you have anything larger?" she inquired apologetically.
Cecil put an arm around her. "More of you to love, my dear," he said, jovially.
"The ring may be sized for any finger," the jeweler assured her. "Do you like it?"
Loreen took the ring again and looked at it more closely. It was lovely, a delicate setting with a small but elegant tani crystal. "Oh, yes, I do, but. . ."
"The price is 595 credits; very reasonable for a set of this quality."
Cecil cleared his throat. "Uh. . . that's a bit more than I had planned to spend."
"It'll last you a lifetime and beyond. Guaranteed."
Cecil harrumphed again. "I really can't afford it. What else do you have?"
Yes, he could afford it, Loreen thought. Cecil worked for her father, and was well paid. Anything he bought for *himself* was always of the best quality. But, of course, she bit back her resentment and said nothing.
"Well, here's a similar one, but the stone is a Terran diamond," the jeweler was saying. "Nice work and fine quality. The price is 450 credits."
"That's still too much. I was figuring more in the line of 300. . ."
Loreen quelled her resentment. After all, she told herself, Cecil wasn't rich, and there were more important things to worry about than engagement rings.
The jeweler was studying the case, and selected a wide silver band with an engraving of ferns and flowers. A small, light lavender stone was set deep into the workings. "A sapphire, sir--295 credits, plus tax. . ."
"Now, that's more like it! Quite elegant, isn't it, dear? Try it on."
Loreen slipped the ring on her finger. Surprisingly, it fit. It wasn't what she'd had in mind, of course. She'd had visions of a sparkling diamond, a ruby, or a glowing, pale yellow tani, but, of course, she wouldn't question it. She should count herself as lucky.
"Hold it! Freeze!"
The voice was sharp and threatening. Loreen and Cecil turned. The jeweler yelped.
Three men had entered the shop. They wore ragged, filthy clothing and stocking masks. The one in the lead held a blaster.
"You two! Down on your faces!" The largest of the three gestured to Cecil and Loreen.
Loreen obeyed, dropping to her knees and going to the floor all in one motion. Faintly she heard the sound of Cecil doing the same. Footsteps approached.
The jeweler spoke, voice quivering. "What do you want?"
"Open the case, Mister." It was another voice, soft, silky, and contralto.
"But I don't. . ."
"Now! Quickly!"
"The keys are in the back. I'll have to go get them. . ."
"That's a lie. They're in your pocket." The voice remained soft and almost gentle, but something in it made Loreen shudder. "Open the case or I'll kill you."
There was a rattle of keys, then the click of a lock opening. In the distance, Loreen heard the wail of a police siren. Someone swore fluently and there was the rattle of a case opening. Someone yelled something and a form bent over Loreen. A hand grasped her arm brutally, bringing her to her feet. "Come on, honey. We're leaving."
"But I. . ."
Her protest was ignored. Her captor dragged her toward the door, joining his two companions as they exited. Loreen saw the jeweler staring wide-eyed after them and Cecil still prone on the floor, unmoving. One of the robbers lifted his weapon as they went out and his blaster cracked. Someone screamed, but Loreen had no chance to see who had been hit. The door was behind her, and she was being dragged irresistibly across the sidewalk toward a parked aircar. A police vehicle was racing toward them, siren screaming. A pair of powerful hands thrust Loreen unceremoniously into the rear seat of the waiting car and her captor jumped in beside her, pressing the muzzle of the blaster against her face.
"Just don't give us no trouble, baby, and you won't be hurt."
Loreen pressed back against the seat, clutching it with her hands as the car soared upward. The patrol vehicle gave chase. The car in which she rode tore across three lanes of traffic, sending other vehicles veering away. There was a blare of horns. The driver swerved again, diving beneath the traffic, then dipped the car low into an alley away from the crowded skystream. The police vehicle pursued, beginning to fall back a little. A blaster shot cracked past the car, and Loreen barely suppressed a scream. The man beside her shoved her sideways, pushing the blaster practically into her face.
"Don't lose it, baby, or I'll kill you. We got no time for hysterical women."
Loreen closed her eyes, waiting for death. The seat beneath her bucked and lurched. She was thrown hard against the door but didn't open her eyes. For what seemed an eternity the lurching and swaying continued. Then she heard a triumphant laugh from the seat beside her, and another from the front. A deep, slightly hoarse voice said, "Good work, Cor."
The scream of the police siren was fading. Loreen opened her eyes. The man beside her was reaching across the seat to pound the driver on the shoulder. The police siren grew fainter and finally ceased altogether. Somehow they had lost their pursuer, Loreen realized--not an easy task in a crowded city like Franik. The man behind the controls must be some driver.
As the thought went through her mind, the driver turned to look back at her. The upper part of his face was covered by what looked like a stocking cap with two holes cut in it for the eyes, but she could see his mouth. It was soft and delicately curved, and his chin showed the downy fuzz of a boy in his teens. He smiled at her almost sympathetically.
"Sorry to mess up your big day, Loreen. You and your beau out buying rings, huh?"
She nodded, wondering how in the galaxy he had known her name.
"Find one you liked?"
She swallowed and found her voice. "You. . . interrupted us."
The man beside her caught her left hand, grip tightening cruelly when she tried to draw it back. "This the one you picked out?"
"Y. . . yes. Please. . ."
"Let her go, Jake." It was the driver, speaking quietly--the soft, silky voice she had heard him use when addressing the jeweler.
"Aw, why, Cor? She ain't nothing to. . ."
"Taking a merchant's swag is one thing. Stealing a little girl's engagement ring is another. We got plenty. Let her alone."
Slowly Jake released her. Loreen moved back from him as far as she could, rubbing her wrist. Jake glanced at her hand again.
"I thought engagement rings were supposed to have diamonds or tanis in 'em. That don't look like neither one."
"It's. . . it's not. It's a sapphire."
"Huh. What a cheap boyfriend. He looked like an awful classy dude t'be buying his girl a cheap engagement ring."
Loreen felt her cheeks growing warm. "That's not fair. You don't know anything about him."
Jake chuckled. "Sure we do. Don't we, Cor?"
The driver glanced back and Loreen saw him grin. He didn't answer.
"How could you?" Loreen asked, hotly.
Jake laughed, and the man on her other side joined him.
"Tell her, Cor. What's the harm? She ain't never gonna talk."
Cor's grin vanished. "Shut up, Devin."
"But. . ."
"There's no need to scare her." He spoke to Loreen. "We aren't going to hurt you. Don't worry about that. My friends just like to tease pretty girls."
Loreen felt herself flushing. "So do you, apparently."
"What do you mean?" He cocked his head to one side. "You think you aren't pretty?"
Loreen felt her flush deepening. "You know I'm not."
The eyes through the stocking mask regarded her levelly. "Who told you that?"
"No one needed to tell me. I can look in a mirror."
"You're a woman. What does a woman know about what a man considers beautiful? I think you're the loveliest lady I've ever met."
Jake laughed. Cor glanced at him, lip twitching slightly. Jake jumped suddenly and grunted in surprise. "Hey!"
"Keep your opinion to yourself, Jake," the driver said, quietly.
"What the hell's wrong with you?" Jake rubbed his side, glaring at Cor. "That hurt."
"It was meant to."
For the slow count of ten the two locked gazes. Then Jake's eyes wavered and fell. He cleared his throat. "Okay, you win. Sorry."
There was an uneasy silence. Loreen stared in puzzlement at Jake, then at the driver. Jake was studying the toes of his ragged tennis shoes, and the driver's eyes were once again straight ahead.
Devin cleared his throat. "She's kinda cute, I guess," he said, unconvincingly.
Loreen looked away and changed the subject. "Anyway, what could you possibly know about my fiancé? You've never met him before, have you?"
"He didn't have to," Devin said. He chuckled softly.
"What do you mean?"
The driver glanced in the mirror at Devin. "It isn't all that smart to play games like this, Dev."
"Dev ain't all that smart," Jake said.
Devin ignored him. "Aw, what's the harm, Cor? She don't know us from Halthzor."
"Tell her about her boyfriend, Cor," Jake prompted, apparently dismissing their recent conflict.
Cor sighed again. "Okay, what the hell? Your boyfriend, Loreen, is named Cecil Warren. He's twenty three years old, and will be marrying you in about six months or so, he hopes. He's a self-centered bastard, and he was hoping we'd take you hostage, instead of him. I would have taken him just for the fun of seeing the jerk scared, but Jake already had you, and there wasn't time to argue."
Loreen felt her cooling cheeks grow warm again. "How could you possibly. . ."
The driver interrupted her. "He doesn't love you. He doesn't even think you're pretty, and you're certainly not good enough for a guy as foxy as he thinks he is. But your dad's well off, and good old Cecil doesn't save money very well, even though your dad pays him a pretty good salary."
"You're crazy! Cecil loves me!"
"No he doesn't, baby, and you know it."
Loreen straightened up. "You know him from somewhere, that's it, and you just made up the rest to make me feel bad."
"Why the devil should I want to make you feel bad, honey? I like you. Take my advice and dump that character. He's nowhere near good enough for you."
Loreen didn't know what kind of answer to make, so again she changed the subject. "Look, why not let me go now? I'm of no use to you anymore."
Jake laughed. Loreen swallowed and wet her lips, trying to repress the little jab of panic in her stomach. "Please, Cor!"
He glanced back at her. "Maybe in awhile, honey."
"Why not now? If you aren't going to hurt me, why keep me here? Please. . ."
"Shut up," Jake said.
Loreen fell silent, and turned to look out the window. Crumbling buildings and grimy, littered streets lay below. She wondered if she would be able to find this place again if the cops wanted her to locate it for them.
Cor, the driver, glanced back at her. "You start thinking things like that, baby, and I'll see to it you never get the chance."
"What? What do you mean?"
Jake and Devin laughed.
It was almost as though he could read her thoughts. Loreen pressed back in the seat, as frightened now of Cor as of the other two men. "Please, let me go! I won't tell anyone! Please!"
The driver's mouth softened, and his voice was suddenly gentle again. "Okay, baby, I know you mean it--at least for now. Take it easy. Ed never hurts anyone, and neither do I if I can help it."
"Then what do you want with me?"
Jake laughed again. The driver glanced at him sharply. "Stop that. The poor kid's scared enough." He turned back to Loreen. "You want the truth? Okay. . ." although she hadn't spoken. "You won't like it, but here it is. You got a daddy who's well off. You're worth money. That's why we're keeping you."
"Oh. But my dad isn't rich. . ."
"We won't ask for millions--don't worry. But if guys like us don't take advantage of the breaks that fall in our way, we don't get anywhere. Okay, Jake, blindfold her."
Jake pulled a scarf from his pocket. "Okay, doll, don't give me trouble and I won't tie your hands."
Loreen submitted quietly as he bound the blindfold over her eyes. He secured it, patted her cheek, then rested his big hand on her knee. She drew in her breath sharply and resisted the urge to push the hand away. She didn't want to be tied.
"Hands off, Jake," came Cor's voice from the front seat. The hand on her knee was suddenly gone and she heard a whispered curse from Jake, and a soft snicker from Devin.
The purr of engines continued unchecked for a few minutes more, then changed in pitch. There was a sensation of turning, then of losing altitude. A soft thump, then stillness. A door slid open.
"Okay." It was a whisper. "Now."
Hands caught her, drew her forcibly from the car and lifted her. She was heaved to a broad shoulder and carried a short distance. "Okay, shut it."
A door closed somewhere and there was a quick rush of feet nearby. The man carrying her moved forward again. She had the impression that they were descending a flight of steps, then another door opened and closed. Footsteps shuffled beside her and were suddenly muffled, apparently by some sort of carpeting. Then, with a grunt, the man carrying her lowered her to a surface covered by a soft, downy rug. A hand caught hers and drew her forward.
"Sit down," Cor's voice said. "Take it easy honey."
Loreen sat. The surface upon which she settled herself was soft and comfortable. It felt like an easy chair. A hand patted her on the arm. "Don't be scared." It was Cor again. "Nobody's going to hurt you."
She nodded, clutching the arms of the chair. Jake's voice said something, coming from off to her left. A door opened and closed.
"Hi, Ed." It was a chorus of voices.
"That's her." It was Devin's voice. "Cory says her daddy's got money."
So, Cor's full name was Cory. Loreen clutched the chair arms tighter and tried to will her quivering lips into a firm line. She heard no sound, but suddenly she had the impression that someone was approaching.
She knew now that she was facing the leader--the man to whom all these criminals answered. He was looking at her. She could feel his eyes on her, and wondered what he was thinking. She forced herself to sit motionless and silent. Seconds went by and became minutes.
"What's the matter, Ed?" It was Jake's voice, sounding slightly amused. "You in love or something?"
"Shut up, Jake." Cory sounded annoyed.
Another silence. Then Cory's voice again. "Jake, Devin, come with me."
"What for, Cory? What's wrong with Ed?"
"Nothing's wrong with Ed. Come on."
"Why?" Jake asked again.
Why indeed? Loreen wondered. Better to have the others stay. Why did this man want her alone?
"I want to talk to her." It was the voice of the leader--a surprising, soft tenor; the voice of a boy not yet out of his teens. The sound was reassuring. "She's scared silly. I don't want her to do something stupid. Go on. Get!"
Footsteps retreated. The door closed.
Silence. Loreen felt her fear growing again. What did this criminal want with her. Maybe he was a soft voiced strangler. . .
"I won't hurt you." His tone was gentle. "You're Loreen. What do your friends call you?"
"Lor. . . Loreen."
"Not Lori?"
"No. Just Loreen." She swallowed and licked dry lips. "Please, can't you just let me go? My father has money, but he isn't rich. It isn't really worth the risk you're taking. . ."
She had the impression he was smiling. "Let me worry about that. The risk has already been taken. There's no going back now."
Silence again. Loreen waited, skin prickling.
"Well," said her captor suddenly, "don't you have a few questions?"
"No."
"Go ahead. Ask 'em."
"I don't want to irritate you."
"You won't. I already know most of 'em."
"You do?"
"Sure. You want to know, first what we're going to do with you after your dad pays the ransom."
"I guess that's logical."
"Very."
His speech was cultured--not the common speech of a street kid. "Well, what's the answer?"
"We'll return you." There was a faint creak as though he had settled himself in a chair beside her. "You're seventeen?"
"Yes. You seem to know a lot about me."
He ignored that. "Aren't you a little young to be throwing your life away?"
"What do you mean?"
"You know exactly what I mean."
"You mean Cecil?"
He didn't mince words. "Cory says he's a self centered bastard --that he wanted them to take you instead of him."
Anger flared. "He's not like that!"
"If Cory says he is, then he is."
"Cory doesn't even know him. . . and if it *is* true, what's it to you?"
There was a sharp silence. Loreen felt again the stab of fear. It was foolish for a captive to irritate her abductors--foolish and dangerous. . .
She started violently at the touch of a hand on hers. "I'm sorry," came the soft tenor again. "You're right. It's none of my business."
Loreen felt a rush of incredulity. This boy *couldn't* be a criminal. It was a mistake. It must be. Criminals, kidnappers, abused and terrified their victims. They didn't sit by them discussing their life's decisions in gentle, respectful tones. . .
The hand over hers was suddenly gone. She heard a soft rustle as her captor rose. Loreen felt an impulse to reach for him from the darkness behind the blindfold, and resisted the urge. The sound of the door opening came again, and footsteps entered the room.
"We aren't going to hurt you," the leader's voice repeated. "Give us no trouble, and you'll be returned to your parents as soon as the ransom's paid. Understand?"
She nodded.
"And don't try to take off your blindfold. If you do, Cory and I will know. If you see us, you won't be returned. We can't risk your being able to identify us."
Loreen nodded again. She knew he spoke the truth. He and Cory knew everything about her, although she'd told them nothing. Why, you'd think they were psychics. . .
Ed's hand touched her's again, and he spoke in a voice so low that most likely only she heard it. "We are. So don't try anything."
The words sent another jolt of fear through her. Psychics! The criminal underworld--born degenerates--people without consciences-- sociopathic personalities. . . All the Jilectan propaganda concerning Terran psychics rushed toward her in the darkness behind the blindfold.
Somewhere nearby she heard Cory laugh. Ed's hand lifted from hers. "Right," he said. "So behave yourself."
"What's she thinking, Ed?" came Jake's eager voice.
"None of your business," Cory said.
"Aw, you're no fun anymore, Cor!"
Loreen sat rigid in her chair. Psychics! She was a prisoner of Terran psychics. They would kill her--no doubt of that, if what the Jils claimed was true. . .
"We won't hurt you," Ed repeated.
They were reading every thought that crossed her mind. She could hide nothing from them. Loreen clasped her hands in her lap, rigid with terror.
The criminals were talking among themselves, ignoring her. Loreen's mind raced. Her parents would be wondering what had become of her. Cecil would have told them of her abduction by now, and her mother and father would be terrified for her. But they couldn't know the true extent of her danger.
Terran psychics! The Jilectans, rulers of the known galaxy, had only discovered the existence of psychic ability in Terrans a year ago. The Jilectans themselves were all psychics, and cruel enough to Terrans and all other subject species, but it was rumored far and wide that Terran psychics were far worse. Napoleon, stated the literature, had been a psychic. And Hitler. And Genghis Kahn. All the infamous villains in Terran history. Psychics were uniformly little people, and all these vicious, intelligent historical Terrans had been small. Yes, it fit. All the great leaders--the ruthless, powerful conquerors of Terra's past it seemed, had been abnormally small. Genghis Kahn had been a dwarf. Napoleon had been barely a meter and a half in height. And the most recent one, who had died less than ten years ago, Ivan Pavlich, had been only a little bigger. It was true! And her present position confirmed it. They were criminals--no doubt of it. Odd, though, that the most ruthless and uncaring of the four she had met so far met, appeared to be a non-psychic. Jake. . . and Devin seemed little better. The psychics had, so far, defended her against their comrades.
". . . Cunning, cold, calculating, utterly ruthless, highly intelligent, manipulative.." The description of Terran psychics published everywhere you looked these days, floated before her. Perhaps Ed and Cory were being gentle with her in order to keep her passive until the final moment arrived. . .
She sat completely still, aware somehow that the leader was watching her again. He was still seated in the chair beside her as the other criminals went through the booty obtained from the jeweler, exclaiming over certain pieces, and voicing greedily the prices they ought to bring in the black market.
Loreen wondered what was happening at home now. Were they already looking for her? Did her father have half the police force mobilized trying to find her? The criminals had left no trace. They were good at their work, and had clearly been at it for some time. Still, she couldn't give up hope completely. There had been that time when she was little that she and her sister had been lost in Drevelle Park--a huge, forested area south of here where the family had gone for a picnic. Their parents had found them then--"on instinct" her father had called it. Maybe. . .
No, this was different. This time she was being deliberately hidden. Cecil? What would Cecil do? He hadn't tried to stop them from taking her--but then, he couldn't have.
Tears stung her eyes beneath the blindfold. What if they killed her? She would never see any of her family again. Her sister. . . they had planned on visiting Barbara and Everett next month. Barbara was married and she and her husband had moved to Osterlak. They had a new baby, born last month. Loreen's father had been dying to see his little grandson. Now, perhaps. . .
Ed's hand settled over hers and closed gently. "Lori," he said gently, "we aren't going to hurt you. I promise. Don't you believe me?"
Loreen swallowed.
"That tripe you hear about Terran psychics is just that--tripe. We aren't a bunch of vicious bastards. If Cory and I weren't psychics, we'd be no good as criminals at all. We aren't mean enough. You saw that, yourself."
"Cory. . . Cory shot s-s-somebody in the jewelry store. I. . . heard him. . . the guy he s-sh-shot, screamed." Loreen bit her lip, trying to repress the tears.
"I shot at him," Cory said from somewhere to her right. "I didn't hit him."
"You. . . didn't?"
"No. I meant to scare him, not to hurt him. He ought to know better than to trigger an alarm with a blaster staring him in the face. Stupid. Maybe I taught him something. If I didn't, he probably won't survive the next hold-up."
"Oh," Loreen said. She gulped. "I. . . thought it might have been Cecil."
"Cecil isn't hurt."
Ed's hand closed tighter over hers. "Come with me."
"Where?"
"Come on." His hand pulled, drawing her to her feet.
"Why?"
"Because I want to talk to you alone. Come on." He spoke in a low voice, obviously intending that only she hear.
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tbc
