Sorry it took me so long to post this. Between dealing with floods and domestic emergencies, it took a little longer than usual.
**********
The Crystal Demon: 4/?
by Nancy Smith and Linda Garrick
IV
Alan herded their captive into the tiny ship and belted her in. His partner sat in the seat next to her, his blaster aimed directly at her, and the man they had rescued slumped in the remaining spot, his features blank. Faintly, Alan could sense psychic emanations from his mind, but they were weak and what thoughts he could pick up were jumbled and senseless. He turned to the controls and began the launch sequence. The ship surged forward and up.
"Aircar on the scanner," he said. "I'm picking up transmissions from him. We'll probably have a reception committee on the way out."
"Can you handle it, or should I stun Miss Parnell here and come help you?"
"I don't think that will be necessary," Alan said. He felt a little sorry for the girl. "I'll yell if I need you." He glanced at the scanners. "Clear so far. Can you tell me what happened?"
"Yeah." His partner gave him a summary of his ill-fated adventure within the Patrol station and then fell silent. Alan sighed.
"It wasn't your fault. You did your best."
Linley didn't answer. An alarm triggered on the control board, announcing the presence of another ship in the vicinity.
"What is it?" Mark asked.
"Patrol scout. He's way out of range."
The com came to life. "Patrol Scout Sabre to unidentified craft. Respond."
Alan glanced at the computer. "Twenty seconds to hyperspace."
Linley didn't answer.
"Mark, you can't blame yourself," he said. "There wasn't anything else you could do. You did a great job just getting the prisoner away under those circumstances. Besides, if you'd been carrying the thing, it might have done the same thing to you."
"I know." Linley heaved a sigh. "But it was bad just standin' there an' watchin' them take him."
There was a jolt as the ship converted to hyperspace.
"What I don't understand is how anyone else handled the globe thing without it doing the same thing to them," Alan said. He glanced at the unresponsive man beside him.
"I'm not sure," Linley said. "There was this metallic cloth they apparently handled it with. Dan dropped it. He wasn't the same after he touched the thing bare-handed. He started actin' like he wasn't all there, an' then when that alarm triggered, he just lost his head."
"Well," Alan said, "maybe we can get him out before they start interrogating him." He touched a control and there was a jolt. The stars on the viewscreen reappeared. "We're just beyond the fifth planet's orbit."
"What are you going to do?" the girl asked.
He turned toward her. "I'm going to speak to your father, Miss Parnell ..." He stopped abruptly, sensing something amiss. Mark was watching him.
"What's wrong, kid?"
"I ..." Suddenly he knew. "Mark! She's a psychic!"
The girl went pale, shrinking back from him.
Linley cursed. "Why didn't you pick it up before?"
"She's got shielding!"
"*What*?"
"You heard me." Alan extended a probe toward her mind.
"Natural?"
"No." He concentrated, deepening the probe. "I'm sure it isn't." He spoke to the girl. "Who taught you?"
She swallowed. "Nobody. I taught myself. I had to."
It was the truth. Alan nodded slowly. "I suppose so." He turned to his partner. "She's telling the truth. Her shielding's not perfect, but it's pretty good."
Linley cursed. "I was with her in the aircar the whole time without my shields up! She coulda picked up anythin' she wanted!"
"I didn't!" She spoke unexpectedly, glaring back at him. "Do you think I'm crazy? I don't use my psychic abilities at all. My dad's a Patrol Base Commander! He's around Jils all the time. If I went around using psychic powers, I'd be spotted sooner or later for sure, so I learned to shield and keep away from the Jilectans as much as I can. None of them's ever noticed anything." She glanced at Alan. "I don't see how you did. My shielding is very good. I'm sure of it."
"It is." Alan studied her a moment in silence. "I'm going to have to ask you to lower it, now. I need to read your mind."
She glared at him. "And if I won't?"
"You will, baby. If you know what's good for you."
"Mark," Alan said. "Don't. She'll do it."
She bit her lip, but he felt her shields relaxing and he reached back to place a hand on her temple. She flinched away from his touch.
"Hold still," he said. "I can do it more quickly this way. I won't hurt you. If you've been telling the truth, you have nothing to be afraid of."
She stared at him, her dark, lovely eyes huge in her small face. "I know you!" she whispered. "You're Alan Westover!"
"Hold still," he repeated.
She shrank back from him. "Don't touch me!"
Mark reached over and caught her shoulder. "Hold still, baby."
She became completely motionless, her eyes fixed on Alan in fear and hatred. With a little stab of remorse, Alan extended his probe.
A powerful psychic mind met his -- psychic energy quite as intense as the most formidable Terran psychics back on the Lavirra base. He found himself thinking that she would be an excellent asset to the Underground, if not for her present sympathies. Slowly, he deepened his probe, searching for information.
"Lyn Parnell," he said slowly. "Only child of Base Commander Jefferson Parnell. Did you read Mark's mind, Miss Parnell?"
"No!" she answered furiously.
It was the truth. Alan withdrew the probe and glanced at his partner. "She hasn't read you, Mark."
"Damned lucky for her," Mark said, thinly. "Now, Missie, we need your father's private communicator code."
The girl tossed her head and gave it.
"All right," Alan said. "Let's go back and see what we can do." He set coordinates into the computer. "Hyperspace."
It took them less than five minutes to reach the planet again. With another jolt, they emerged from hyperspace. He positioned the ship near several pieces of orbiting space junk and turned to the com, keying in Commander Parnell's private communicator code.
A voice responded in bare seconds. "Parnell."
"Commander," Alan said, "this is a private call."
"Who *is* this?"
"Is there anyone listening, Commander?" Alan persisted.
"Of course not! This is my private line. How the devil did *you* get it, and who are you?"
"I'm Alan Westover," Alan said. He glanced at their prisoner. "Speak to your father, Miss Parnell."
"Hello, Daddy," she said, quietly.
"Lyn, is that you?" Parnell's voice had changed abruptly.
"Yes, Daddy."
"Where are you?"
"I'm with two men in their ship." She swallowed. "It's Westover, Dad, and Linley."
"Have they hurt you?"
Lyn's reply was amazingly steady. "I'm all right."
"Lyn ..."
Alan cut in. "Commander Parnell, your men captured a member of our organization a short time ago. We want him back, unhurt and uninterrogated."
A short hesitation. Then: "I'll do everything I can. Don't hurt my daughter, Westover."
"Are there any Jils on the planet now?" Alan asked.
"No ... but one should be arriving from Corala soon -- Lord Dronthvor, the son of the one you killed -- Pronthvor."
"Pronthvor?" Alan said. "I haven't killed anyone named Pronthvor."
"Well, somebody did it -- maybe the guy we caught. I don't know. Listen, Westover, if I can bring you your man, will you give me my daughter back?"
"Yes," Alan said. "I'm sure an exchange can be arranged. Remember, though, we have people everywhere. If we find our man has been hurt, or if you try to get any information out of him, your daughter will die." He glanced at the girl's rigid figure. "No negotiation. Is that clear?"
"I understand." Parnell's voice shook.
Alan spoke again. "When shall we contact you again, Commander?"
"Uh ..." Parnell was clearly trying to think. "In about an hour. I should be able to manage something by then."
"Very well, one hour. See that our man is treated well, Commander."
"I will. Lyn ..."
"Yes, Daddy?"
"Don't be afraid, honey. I'll get you free. I promise."
"I'm not afraid, Daddy," she said. "I love you."
Alan cut transmission.
Lyn looked haughtily away from him. Alan sighed and turned back to the controls. "I'm setting for hyperspace now. Keep your mind shields up, Miss Parnell. If you learn anything -- even by accident -- the bargain is off. I'll be monitoring you all the time. I hope you understand that."
A faint hiccup answered him, and he knew their captive was crying. Miserably, he kept his gaze on the screen before him, wondering at his reaction a little. The girl was the spoiled daughter of a Base Commander in the Viceregal Patrol, who apparently didn't have the sense to know where her loyalties should lie. He had no reason to feel sorry for her, but he did.
There was a jolt as the ship converted to hyperspace.
The man that his partner and Danoole Parkraft had rescued was still slumped in the copilot's seat. Alan turned and pulled him around so he could look him in the face. Blank, expressionless eyes met his, and the man made no effort to help himself as he nearly overbalanced in the seat and would have fallen if not for the safety straps. Alan caught him and pulled him upright.
"Mister," he tried, "look at me."
Slowly, the eyes focused on him, but there was no expression in them. Alan swallowed. "I'm Alan Westover. We're taking you to our base. You'll be safe there. Nobody will hurt you."
No response. Alan tried again. "What's your name?"
The man's mouth opened. An odd, gurgling sound emerged.
He was aware that their prisoner was watching from the rear seat, but with her shields up, as he had ordered, he couldn't read her reactions. He placed a hand on the other man's arm. "Don't be afraid. You're with friends. What's your name?"
"Can'tcha read him?" Mark asked.
"I'll try." Very carefully, Alan extended a probe toward the other man's mind.
Again, he sensed the jumble of emotions. Gently, he deepened the probe, reaching for his inner thoughts.
The result was astonishing. The fellow moved convulsively and voiced a terrified cry, bringing up his arms to cover his face.
Quickly, Alan withdrew the probe, sensing abject terror. The man cowered back from him, whimpering and sobbing.
"What th' hell?" Mark said. "Take it easy, Mister. We ain't gonna hurtcha."
Wild, horrified eyes turned on Linley. "Don't let it!" he gasped. "Keep it away!"
They were the first coherent words the man had spoken since his arrival. Alan glanced quickly at Mark and then back at the other psychic. "What are you afraid of?"
The little man was sinking back in the seat, his expression becoming blank once more. "Keep it away," he whimpered. "Hurts ..."
Mark spoke, sounding completely mystified. "What the devil's wrong? Could you see anythin'?"
Alan shook his head. "Not much. He's afraid of something. He has no shielding, but his thoughts are jumbled ... confused. Was he acting normal when you saw the Patrol taking him into the room?"
"Sure," Mark said. "Perfectly normal. That is, he was scared stiff an' beggin' 'em to let him go."
"Hmm." Alan surveyed the rescued psychic thoughtfully. "He has no shielding, and I don't think he ever *has* had any. And yet he detected my probe. People without shielding aren't supposed to be able to feel a psychic probe."
"Yeah, I know." Mark rubbed a thumb across his chin. "Weird, ain't it?"
"Yes, it is. How long was he under interrogation?"
Linley frowned. "Five minutes at the most."
"Can you describe the globe?"
"Yeah." Alan sensed reluctance in his partner. "It was about as big as an orange -- pearly white, an' glowin' like a full moon." Linley shivered suddenly. "Gave me the willies."
"What do you mean?"
Linley didn't answer immediately. He frowned at the bulkhead and Alan could sense his discomfort.
"Well," his partner said finally, "I only got a glimpse of it, since I was tryin' to keep a close eye on the Jil, but the damned thing raised goosebumps on me. I felt ... I dunno ... scared."
"Do you have any idea why?"
Again, Mark didn't answer immediately. "I ain't sure," he said, finally. "I felt ... I dunno ... vulnerable."
"Vulnerable?" Somehow Alan hadn't expected that. "In what way?"
Mark shook his head sharply. "I ain't sure. I felt ... threatened ... sorta like I used t'feel when I was a kid an' my stepfather came after me with his strap. No place t'run an' no way t'fight."
Alan thought it over. "How did Dan react to it?"
Mark's brow furrowed. "He didn't seem bothered at all." Abruptly his eyes met Alan's again. "You got any idea what all this means?"
"No." Alan surveyed the man beside him again. "Wish we could have gotten hold of the thing, though."
"Yeah, me too."
There was a shrill beep. Mark made a face. "Damn! I sure hate tellin' Kaley what's happened."
"Easy, Mark. You did your best, and no C.O. can ask for more."
"Kaley can." Mark sighed gustily.
There was a jolt as their ship converted to normal space. On the screen, perhaps a hundred kilometers away, was the sleek, silver outline of a Procyon light cruiser. Alan punched the com. "Colonel Westover to Tin Soldier ..."
"We're waiting for you, Colonel," a voice said. "Come on in."
**********
Julia Austell was waiting for them as they emerged from the hangar and her eyes opened a little at the sight of the two persons accompanying them.
"Glad you're back," she said. "We were beginning to worry. Where's Danoole?"
"They got him," Mark said. "The whole thing went to hell an' gone. We got some bargaining power, though. Base Commander's daughter."
Lyn lifted her chin haughtily. Julia barely glanced at her. "Who's this?" She was looking at the man that Alan was more than half-supporting.
"Rescued psychic," Alan said. "Better get Matt down here for him, and we need to put Miss Parnell in the brig for now. The guards should keep their mind shields up at all times. It looks like we've got more of a problem than we thought at first."
"C'mon!" Mark spoke roughly. "We gotta give the General a report."
"Just a minute, Mark." Alan spoke quietly. "Let's take care of the details first, then we can concentrate on straightening this out."
Linley grunted.
**********
Major General Kaley was a stocky, balding man somewhere in the second half of his first century, with slanted, green eyes that gave him a slightly satanic look. Alan knew his partner dreaded reporting Parkraft's capture to him. The two had been friends.
As they entered his office, Matt Philips, the Lavirra Base's Chief Medical Officer joined them, glancing curiously at the man they supported between them. Kaley observed their entrance in silence and motioned to chairs.
"Please sit down," he said in an expressionless voice.
Mark did so, not looking at him. Alan spoke. "Mark, there was nothing you could have done." He lowered the unresponsive man into a chair and turned to their Commanding Officer. "Major Parkraft was caught, sir. Mark did everything he could."
Kaley's expression didn't change. "Give me your report, Major Linley."
Mark did so, quickly and without embellishment. Kaley listened in silence.
" ... Then we headed back here," he concluded, "bringin' along the hostage an' this fella. We're due to contact Parnell in about twenty-five minutes. It'll take us ten to get back."
Kaley was studying the man Linley had rescued. "He's a psychic, you say, Colonel Westover?"
Alan nodded. "Yes, sir. He's unshielded, and his thoughts are oddly jumbled. It's hard to explain -- almost like some descriptions I've heard of schizophrenics, but according to Mark, he was acting perfectly normal before they took him in for interrogation."
"Interesting. And he sensed it when you tried to probe him -- unshielded as he is."
"Yes, sir."
"I'm told that there are some who can do that, but they are few and far between," the General observed. "It's possible, of course, that we stumbled on a person who is unshielded and yet is able to detect a psychic probe, but I find the coincidence a little difficult to believe ..."
"What are you thinkin' sir?" Mark ventured.
"I'm not certain, Major," Kaley said, pensively. "But it has occurred to me that this man may have suddenly become much more sensitive to an attempted psychic probe because of a recent experience -- a memorable experience, I would say. I would very much like to question him about what happened in that room between the time he was taken in and the time you and Major Parkraft arrived. Did your probe reveal anything at all to you, Colonel Westover?"
Alan shook his head. "No sir. I decided to wait. He was fighting so hard, and he seemed so scared of me ..."
"Any thoughts on the matter, Matt?" Kaley asked.
Philips was studying the former prisoner thoughtfully. "Maybe. I have some techniques I can try."
Kaley nodded to Mark and Alan. "You may go make your call, gentlemen. Thank you for your report."
Alan stood up, then hesitated, turning back. "About Miss Parnell, sir ..."
"She'll be guarded carefully. I've assigned Lieutenant Vogleman to the task. You needn't worry, Colonel."
Alan and Mark left the room.
**********
The tiny ship came out of hyperspace over Xenis. Alan glanced at his chronometer. "Three minutes."
"Good timin'," Linley remarked. "I hope that damned Commander has figured somethin' out. To tell you the truth, kid, I dunno how he's gonna do it. The Jils don't take the personal feelin's o' their flunkies into consideration, as I guess you know. If Parnell's gonna manage a trade, he's gonna hafta do it without them findin' out, an' that ain't gonna be easy."
"He won't be able to stay with the Patrol afterwards," Alan said. "They'll read him, and then he'll be in for it."
"Yeah, I know. If the situation was a little different, I'd invite him t'join the Underground." Linley shrugged. "Maybe he'll see reason if we work it right. Base Commanders don't get where they are by bein' stupid."
Alan nodded, glanced at his chronometer and began to punch in Parnell's private code. There was a soft buzzing, and the word "Secure" appeared on the screen. He spoke into the unit.
"Commander Parnell, come in."
An odd squawk answered him, succeeded by silence. Alan felt a warning prickle crawl over him and was suddenly aware of something amiss. Linley glanced at him sharply. "What's the matter?"
"I don't know. Something's not right."
"Terrific." Mark checked the scanners. "No sign of any other ships around. Whatcha think it is?"
"It's not us. We're in no danger, but something's wrong." He punched the code in again. "Commander Parnell, come in."
"Uh, yes ..." The voice interrupted him, sounding distracted. "Who is it?"
Alan frowned at the unit. "You know who it is, Commander. We're calling back as promised."
A short silence. Alan's skin prickled with apprehension. Then, the Commander's voice spoke again, crisp and businesslike. "Everything is ready, Mr. Westover. Where would you like the exchange to take place?"
The Commander was lying. He could detect the falsehood as clearly as if it were printed in red across the screen in front of him. Parnell was attempting to deceive him.
He spoke calmly into the unit. "Why are you lying to me, Commander?"
Mark turned to look at him, his expression bleak. Parnell did not reply.
Suspicion became certainty. "Parkraft is dead, isn't he?"
Then the Commander did speak, his voice trembling. "He had some kind of suicide device on him. We didn't know -- he was searched thoroughly, but ... He was acting so strangely, we thought him incapable of harming himself!" Parnell's voice cracked and then steadied. "Please don't hurt my daughter, Westover! I'll do anything you ask!"
Alan stared stonily at the unit. "Apparently he had every reason to believe that he would be interrogated without delay."
"I tried to tell him privately not to do anything drastic," Parnell said. "I was afraid to say too much. That globe ... everybody talks under the thing, and I knew if I didn't get him loose, the Jil would use it as soon as he got here. But your man didn't seem to understand. He must have picked up the thing without using the cloth."
"What thing?" Alan asked.
"The globe -- the shiny ball that Splanxvor found on Skelzir. I don't know what it is, but if you get too close to it, or look at it for too long, it'll make hash out of your brain. The prisoner had it in one of his pouches, uncovered, when we caught him." The Commander stopped.
Mark leaned past him and spoke into the unit. "Commander Parnell, this is Mark Linley. Since our man is dead, you only have one thing we want. Get us that globe or you'll never see your daughter again."
"*What*?" Parnell sounded aghast. "Do you know what you're asking? I can't ..."
"I ain't bluffin', Commander." Mark's voice held no emotion.
"Wait!" Parnell sounded frantic. "I'll see what I can do. Nobody knows yet that you've taken her hostage. Keep it that way."
"We will," Mark said.
"Contact me in six hours. It'll take time."
"Not too much time," Mark said ominously. "Six hours, and the next time we call, you'd *better* have results." He cut transmission, his mouth set in a grim line. "Damn!"
Alan touched his arm. "That was fast thinking."
"Yeah." His partner punched savagely at the computer controls. "I'll feel better knowin' Dan didn't die for nothin'." He cussed under his breath. "He had a wife, an' two kids on Terra."
"I know." Alan spoke gently. "I'm sorry. They'll be taken care of -- but that's no substitute for him."
"No, it ain't."
"Setting for hyperspace," Alan said.
**********
tbc
