The Crystal Demon: 24/?
by Nancy Smith and Linda Garrick
XXVII
"Miss Austell?"
Julia heard her name as though from a great distance. She couldn't answer, nor did she have any desire to answer. The tearing pain of her interrogation under the sweetgrass was still with her. Had she talked? She couldn't remember. Her recollections after the drug had been administered were vague, except for the terrible pain, and Halthzor ...
"Miss Austell, wake up."
Let them wait. Let them think she was still unconscious. How long had it been? Memories began to seep back. Halthzor ... the doctor ... questions and more questions. "Where did you hide the globe ..."
"Miss Austell." It was Halthzor's voice. "Your vital functions indicate your return to consciousness some thirty seconds ago. Open your eyes."
Julia obeyed. Between her and the handsome face of the Jilectan there seemed to float many layers of gauze draperies. She felt sick.
"Do you hear me?" Halthzor asked.
"I hear you." Julia formed the words with her lips. "What do you want?"
"I want the location of the globe that Miss Parnell gave to you."
"It's buried under a rock to the west of our campsite."
Halthzor regarded her thoughtfully. "I almost begin to believe you. But you see, Lord Linthvar went to the spot you have indicated. He has since called in to report that he did not find the globe."
"Well, it's there." Julia blinked up at him, trying to clear her vision. The nausea was rapidly becoming worse. Halthzor stepped fastidiously back as the doctor came forward. A needle pricked her arm.
Slowly, her vision cleared and the nausea began to subside to bearable levels. Her head still pounded sickeningly with each beat of her heart.
"Bring her," Halthzor said.
Two patrolmen appeared, caught her by the arms and pulled her to a sitting position. Black spots jumped out of the air before her and her ears began to hum. There was a sharp popping sound and an acrid odor filled her nostrils. She jerked back with a gasp, but the faintness departed instantly.
Then the two patrolmen were dragging her from the room. They proceeded down a short hallway and paused before a lift. Julia took a deep breath, tugging experimentally on the restrainers that held her wrists behind her back. She still didn't feel well, no doubt because of the sweetgrass she had received. If she did try to make a break for it, she doubted that she would get far. Her only hope lay in Alan and Mark. She knew that they had accomplished what seemed like miracles in the past. She could only pray that they would be able to accomplish another one.
The lift doors opened, revealing a Patrol sergeant and another man in the uniform of a Jilectan servant. Julia hardly noticed. She was concentrating on her uncertain balance.
The lift slid shut and they started to descend.
Halthzor stood with his back to the rear wall of the lift, Julia and her guards in front of him. The lift reached the ground level at last and the two patrolmen hustled her out and to one side, allowing the Jilectan to exit. They marched her briskly toward an exit.
"Where are we going?" she whispered.
No one answered. A servant appeared at Halthzor's side. "Your Grace, I have a message from the Security station."
Halthzor paused. "Yes?"
Things were happening too fast, she thought. The other occupants of the lift went past them without a pause and vanished out the exit.
"Search parties are being dispatched for the three parties accompanying Lord Linthvar," the servant said. "They aren't answering their hail."
Halthzor went perfectly still, staring down at the servant. "And Linthvar?" he inquired abruptly. "Has he returned?"
"He -- well, you see, sir --" The servant began to stammer. "He -- well, we contacted him, and his driver told us that he was returning. Apparently, they had no information as to why the others didn't answer."
"Where is His Lordship now?" Julia could almost hear the ice crystals in the Jilectan's voice.
The servant gulped. "I don't know, M'lord. He hasn't been seen since he departed on his search, and, well -- the crawler that entered the base never arrived at the garage."
There was a terrible silence and Julia, through her misery, knew a moment of elation. Trust Mark Linley and Alan Westover to take full advantage of the presence of a Jilectan in the forest. Now, if they had just managed to take Linthvar alive, there might be hope for her.
Of course, it was equally possible that Halthzor would refuse to bargain. Twice already, Julia had been in the clutches of the Jilectans only to be rescued. And Linthvar, although a member of the nobility, might well be considered expendable -- if the price that Halthzor must pay for his return was the Jil Killer, Julia Austell.
"Who took the communication?" Halthzor inquired in a strangely calm voice.
"Corporal Vanlin, sir. He -- he didn't suspect anything because they had the access code --"
"And I am quite sure that Westover took that code directly from the driver's mind," Halthzor said acidly. "Or did that possibility not occur to Corporal Vanlin?"
The servant gulped.
Halthzor turned to the patrolmen beside him. "Miss Austell is to be watched every second until we have located Westover and Linley. They are undoubtedly on the base and will attempt to free her. Take her to my staff car at once."
Both men saluted, and Julia was hustled to the door and out toward the waiting Jilectan staff car. Rain struck her in the face and she realized that it had begun to sprinkle. From somewhere far away there was a flicker of lightning, and some seconds later a distant rumble of thunder.
They propelled her across the wet pavement, and one of the men opened the front passenger door. Julia was pushed inside next to the driver.
The driver was a short little man, dressed in the clothing of a Jilectan body servant, not the uniform of a chauffeur, she noted with vague puzzlement. Something wasn't quite right here, but her dazed brain seemed unable to make sense of it. Then, as one of the patrolmen started to slide in after her, a large, black- and scarlet-clad form rose suddenly from the rear seat, a blaster pointed directly at her guard.
"Back out," Mark's familiar Shallockian-accented voice said. "Now."
The man froze in place. The blaster in Mark's hand moved forward a centimeter or two. "Out," Mark's voice repeated.
The patrolman reversed course. He had barely cleared the door when the car shot forward, leaving the man sprawling on the pavement. The door closed with a soft click as the car tore recklessly through the rain and darkness. From somewhere behind them, a siren began to wail.
XXVIII
Alan guided the car toward the landing field at top speed, steering with his clairvoyance more than his eyes. Mark leaned forward over the seat, trying to see Julia where she slumped in a boneless heap on the upholstery. "Jul, are you all right?"
Julia began to sob softly, and Mark heaved himself over the seat back to slide down beside her. Gently he reached behind her and unfastened the restrainers, tossing them to the floor of the vehicle. Julia continued to sob, and Mark pulled her carefully to a sitting position. She clutched him tightly, burying her head in the hollow of his shoulder.
Behind them, the sirens were drawing closer and ahead, the sleek form of the Jilectan yacht came into view.
"Better call Lyn as soon as we're down."
"I already have. She's just waiting for my signal."
"You gonna fly right into the cargo hold?"
Alan shook his head. "Can't. The crawler's taking up too much room. Get ready."
As he spoke, the aircar came to a sliding stop at the foot of the ship's boarding ramp and, at the same instant, the hatch opened. Light streamed out.
Figures were running toward them and the beams of handlights flickered through the rainy darkness. It was a good thing this was a frontier outpost, Linley reflected grimly, or the whole field would be illuminated right now. Someone shouted, and a blaster spat, the beam warping the hood of the car.
Mark heaved Julia to one shoulder and leaped out, firing back in the direction of the approaching figures. Alan slithered out after him, shielding himself with the body of the car. Dark forms appeared in the open hatch of the ship and two blasters cracked almost simultaneously. The approaching patrolmen scattered for cover. Someone screamed hoarsely and from somewhere a voice was shouting orders.
"Go!" Mark snapped.
Alan fired at something and there was a pained yell. "I'll take Julia."
"You can't! She weighs almost as much as you do! Go, dammit! You can cover me from the hatch!"
Alan hesitated and then obeyed, running with light dexterity up the ramp. Fire followed him, and Mark felt a thin line of heat sear his arm through the link. Alan yelped, his voice loud in Linley's mind, and then his form vanished through the hatch.
Patrolmen were closing in, crouching low in the darkness. Mark knew that the men who worked for the Viceregal Patrol were well-trained in this kind of combat and for the most part were excellent shots. Burdened with Julia, he was an easy target, even with Lyn, Alan and the Shirva covering him.
Well, there was no choice. The longer he waited, the more reinforcements would arrive. He settled Julia more firmly across his shoulders.
"Wait!" It was a cry from the darkness, and Mark saw a patrolman sprinting toward the ship, firing over his shoulder at his fellows. "Wait! I am defecting! Do not shoot me!"
For a moment, the blaster fire from their pursuers slackened and someone swore vigorously. An instant later, the fire resumed. The figure came lightly over the aircar, just as a blaster report sounded. The figure gave a muted screech and pitched head foremost over the car's hood. It landed hard beside Mark, its head connecting solidly with the fender of the aircar. The patrolman, an Arcturian, was not wearing a helmet, and the crack as he hit sounded hard enough to knock anyone colder than a sloof's underside. Linley stared down at the limp figure in confusion. Should he try to bring the guy along? How? He couldn't carry both Julia and the Arcturian.
But of course, there was no choice. Alan shouted again and Mark ran, crouching low as he navigated the boarding ramp. Then he was through the hatch and Alan was helping to lower Julia's limp form to the deck. "Mark, what about the defector?"
"We can't!"
"They'll put him in the chair if we leave now!" Alan's voice was anguished. "I'll go! You cover me!"
Mark caught him by the back of the servant's uniform. "You can't! He's as big as I am!"
"We can't just leave him!"
"I'll get him. Cover me. Besides, I've got the Droma."
"But --"
Linley was already moving. Ducking low, he charged down the ramp, dived forward and arrived beside the Arcturian in a roll that was half a scramble. Blaster fire from his comrades sounded behind him, covering his progress. He heaved the alien to his shoulders, got his feet under him and turned toward the ramp, crouching as he planned his next dash.
The ship looked very far away suddenly, and the patrolmen were approaching warily, trying to keep to cover. The psychics in the hatch were enough to keep them off guard, Linley knew. Psychics, Terran or otherwise, were usually wonderful marksmen, due to the fact that they could sense their enemies' positions and thoughts. It was extremely difficult to surprise a psychic.
He hoisted himself to his feet and started up the ramp at a trot, his spine tingling.
Alan shouted something, and a fraction of a second later he heard what had already alerted the senses of his psychic partner -- the hum of an aircar, approaching rapidly. He felt like a fly on a plate as he staggered up the ramp, the slack form of the Arcturian across his shoulders. The air vehicle dove toward him and he saw Alan fire a desperate shot at it. The slender form of his partner emerged from the hatch, and fired several more shots as the aircar's blasters went off.
Fire exploded around him. He heard Alan's horrified yell and saw the bolt burst what looked like centimeters from his nose. Flaming fragments scattered in all directions.
But nothing touched him. Mark stumbled forward, aware that apparently, through the same miracle that had saved him from the patrolman's blaster that afternoon, the bolt had been deflected. Then he was diving through the hatch, the Arcturian slipping from his shoulders onto the plushly carpeted deck.
Dazed and still disbelieving, he heard the roar of repulsers. The ship surged upward in the fastest takeoff he had ever experienced, and behind him, he heard the hatch click shut.
Alan was kneeling beside him, clutching his black-clad arm. "Are you all right? Mark, are you burned?"
Mark cleared his throat. "Easy kid, I'm fine." He disengaged his arm. "Pull yourself together. I'm okay."
Alan let him go. "I thought --"
"Yeah, I know." Linley grinned reassuringly. "I guess m'li'l Droma was on the job again -- hey, who's pilotin' this crate?"
"Miki," Alan said. "I told him to push the button as soon as I said 'go', and boy, he didn't waste any time. I guess I'd better get up there to help. Can you manage here?"
"Go ahead, Alan," Lyn said impatiently. "I'd like a pilot at the controls that knows what he's doing. We'll be fine."
Alan disappeared into the interior of the ship. Lyn and Jeel were kneeling beside Julia, and the psychic girl issued orders as calmly as if she and not Mark had been the senior officer present. "We'll handle Julia. You take him, Mark. There's a lounge on the second deck right off the lift. We can settle them down there. Come on."
Mark didn't argue. Within bare moments, he was lowering the rescued patrolman to the carpet of Halthzor's private lounge while Lyn and Jeel stretched Julia on the large and comfortable sofa, embroidered in gold-trimmed velvet. As they did so, Miki appeared in the opening behind them. "Alan says to come quick, Mark!"
"Take care of her," Mark threw over his shoulder and followed Miki out to the lift that deposited them seconds later in the control room.
Alan was in the pilot's position, and Mark looked instantly at the screen that covered one full bulkhead. "What've we got?"
Miki bounced past him and jumped onto the navigator's chair, standing so that he could reach the instruments more easily. "Eieep! It's a ship, dammitall!"
"Patrol cruiser," Alan said matter-of-factly. "Looks like the 'Orion'."
"Fong," Mark said. "Hope he listens to reason. Can you handle things here a minute? I'm gonna go get our bargainin' chip."
Alan nodded. "Don't take too long."
**********
tbc
