The Crystal Demon: 25/?
by Nancy Smith and Linda Garrick
XXIX
Alan watched as the battlecruiser approached: a huge, silver, saucer-shaped disk that grew swiftly larger on the viewscreen. Blue flame blossomed across their bow. Miki yipped.
"It's okay," Alan said, keeping his voice calm with an effort. "They're just trying to scare us." He sent a tendril of thought to Lyn, directing her to go after Mark and help bring up the captive Jilectan.
*I already am,* her mental voice told him, sounding strangely breathless. *Jeel's here, too. Be there in a minute.*
*Hurry. They mean business.* Alan turned his attention back to the screens. The cruiser was still coming, although its approach had slowed. It was possible that they already suspected that there might be a noble prisoner on board.
The communicator burst into sound, crackly with static.
"Jilectan yacht 'Firebird'; this is Strike Commander Fong. You are ordered in the name of Lanthzor, Viceroy of the Rovalli Sector, to surrender at once. Lay to and prepare for boarding. If you disobey this order, we will open fire."
There was a moment's silence. Alan's heart was racing light and fast in his chest. *Hurry, Mark.* He vocalized the words in his mind, relying on the link to carry them. He pressed the transmit key.
"You might want to think about that, Strike Commander, unless you want to kill Lord Linthvar, too. We have him on board."
There was a long silence from the communicator, and then the Strike Commander's voice spoke again.
"Alan Westover, we have received orders from Duke Halthzor to prevent your escape at any cost. We strongly suggest, however, that you surrender without a struggle. It will go easier on you if Linthvar is not harmed. I advise you to --"
"Yeah, I'll bet!" Alan tried to put the tone in his voice that Mark's always carried when dealing with the Viceregal Patrol. "I suppose the Viceroy will give us a public pardon instead of an execution if we surrender without Linthvar getting hurt, huh? Sorry, Fong but we've got nothing to lose!"
There was a long hesitation from Fong. Alan poured on the power and the Jilectan yacht responded. The private yachts of the noble Jilectans were high-powered, luxury vehicles, equipped with all the best weaponry and latest gadgets. If he had to engage a Patrol cruiser in battle, there were few ships that he would rather have under his hands. They were clearing the upper fringes of the atmosphere, and the pull of the planet was weakening.
"Whatcha gonna do?" Miki's voice quavered slightly. Alan glanced at the Shirva, reminding himself that this was the first time he had been away from the surface of his world, and certainly the first time he had ever engaged in a space battle.
He gave what he hoped was a reassuring grin. "I'm going to try to outrun him and delay him until Mark gets up here with Linthvar. If we can just hold them off until we're away from Kasal's gravity field, we can go into hyperspace, and lose them. If we do have to fight, though, we're in the right ship for it. Halthzor's yacht is heavily armored and armed to the teeth. That's why we chose it."
Miki muttered under his breath. The battlecruiser was also pouring on the speed and the distance between them was no longer widening. Alan brought the ship around in a tight loop, forcing the cruiser to swivel in order to keep them in its sights. An instant later he took them sharply to port, once again forcing the battlecruiser to adjust its position. Blue lines of energy traced their way past the 'Firebird's' starboard side.
They were still within the planet's pull and until they cleared the gravity well, Alan couldn't even set for hyperspace with the cruiser harassing them like this. The vessel quivered as another blast shook them, this one a little too near. A warning light began to blink green on the board and a readout informed him that automatic repair procedures were underway. Alan blinked at it, puzzled for a moment, then he remembered. This was a Jilectan ship and a green light meant the opposite of that on a Terran ship.
The green light went off, informing him that the repair procedures were complete. Naturally, he thought, such technology would be the most efficient available on Duke Halthzor's vessel.
The lift doors opened and Mark, accompanied by Lyn, Jeel and Linthvar, stepped into the control room. Linthvar was weaving slightly, supported on either side by Mark and Lyn. Jeel walked behind, a blaster gripped in both hands and aimed at the Jilectan's spine.
Linthvar looked pale and sick, with huge, purple shadows under his eyes. His fine clothing was rumpled, the blond hair wildly mussed. Linley jerked his head at Miki, who leaped from the navigator's chair. Mark shoved Linthvar into the vacated seat and took the blaster from Jeel, adjusting the setting. He nodded to Alan. "Call the battlecruiser."
Alan did. Mark looked Linthvar directly in the eyes. "Are you hearin' me, Fong?" he asked, his voice conversational. "This is Mark Linley. We got Linthvar right here in front of us. I'm warnin' you right now: we know you're gonna try'n board us or disable the ship to capture us. There's no way we're gonna let you take us alive, an' if it looks like you're gonna take the ship, Lord Linthvar goes first. We got nothin' to lose." He spoke to Linthvar. "Tell 'em, M'lord."
"Get back!" the Jilectan shouted frantically. "I order you! Get back!"
"I'm terribly sorry, sir." Fong sounded genuinely contrite. "I have orders from Duke Halthzor, himself, not to let the criminals escape."
"That is impossible! I order you not to pursue! They will kill me!"
"I'm very sorry, sir," Fong repeated.
Alan glanced at Mark. The battlecruiser fired again, and once again their ship quivered. "Weapons computer on and set for the battlecruiser," he said. "Respond with all force."
"About time we started shootin' back," Mark said. "Turn on the ship to ship viewscreen. Let Fong get a look at M'lord."
Alan obeyed. The viewscreen lit up and he saw the dark, Asian face of Strike Commander Fong. It was clear that the Strike Commander could see them too, for he started forward involuntarily, his eyes fixed on the Jilectan.
"Cease the attack, Commander!" Linthvar ordered. "My life is at stake! If I die, my brother will wreak vengeance on you! You will be held accountable!"
Fong's features contorted. "M'lord, forgive me, I have no choice. His Grace has ordered it."
"Allow me to speak with His Grace at once! It is a mistake! It must be!"
"There's no mistake." Fong's face became wooden and he nodded to someone to one side of the screen. "Turn it off, Bender."
The screen went blank, and at the same time the "Firebird's" weapons computer fired several shots. The tactical screen on his board recorded a hit on their pursuer.
"At least we'll give 'em a fight," Mark muttered. "Even a battlecruiser ain't comin' out of a scrap with Halthzor's yacht without a few welts to show for it."
Alan nodded, and then froze with an involuntary exclamation. A voice was speaking in his mind, jarring his already taut nerves.
*Alan, it's Eric! Is that you guys on that yacht?*
"Eric!" Alan shouted. "Mark, it's Eric!"
"Eric!" Mark bellowed. "About time you got here!"
*Set hyperspace,* Eric's voice continued. *We'll hold 'em off! Ya--hoo!* The mental whoop made Alan grin. If he recalled correctly, this was Eric's first real space engagement.
"There she is!" Mark pointed. The "Tin Soldier" had appeared on their main screen, growing larger by the second, and coming up behind the battlecruiser. They must have been parked behind the larger moon, Alan realized, to be able to ambush the "Orion" so effectively.
The battlecruiser fired at them again, and in return the "Firebird" blasted away at the larger ship with a barrage of shots.
"*Two* hits," Mark said, sounding pleased. "Now *that's* great shootin'! I *really* like this baby."
Alan was barely paying attention as he set for hyperspace. Linthvar had collapsed back in the navigator's seat, his eyes closed, and Alan thought absently that this must be the first time in history that one of the aliens was actually glad to see the arrival of an enemy ship ready to engage his own people.
From behind the battlecruiser, the "Tin Soldier" fired. The "Orion" returned the fire. Alan brought the yacht around in a tight turn, reflecting that it was a good thing that these yachts, among other things, were designed for racing. They passed the cruiser to its starboard and their computer fired several bursts of energy and a solid projectile as they shot by. Silent explosions rocked the Patrol ship behind them, and the computer reported a serious hit. Alan kept going. That pass had simply been a distraction and an attempt to cause enough havoc to allow the "Tin Soldier" a better safety margin to escape. It should help, if nothing else. Behind them, the screens showed another spirited exchange of fire between the two big ships.
"Forty seconds to hyperspace," Alan said. He glanced at his partner. "That was close."
"Yeah." Mark grinned. "Aw, they never had a chance with hot pilot Westover at the controls." He eyed Linthvar thoughtfully. "You were real lucky our people showed up in time, M'lord."
The Jilectan didn't answer. Alan glanced around, noting that at some time during the fracas, Lyn, Jeel and Miki had strapped themselves into various seats around the control room. "Hang on, everybody. Hyperspace in forty seconds." He added to his partner, "You'd better strap in too, Mark."
"Oh, yeah." Mark sank into the copilot's seat and absently fastened the safety webbing with one hand. "Just stay where you are, M'lord."
Linthvar still didn't answer. A moment later, with a soft jolt, the ship converted to hyperspace.
"Nice conversion," Mark said, sounding impressed. "This baby is some ship. Too bad they probably won't let us keep her once we get back to base."
"Yeah," Alan agreed. He unfastened his webbing and stood up. "Course is programmed in. Let's go see how Julia is." He glanced at Linthvar. "Better bring him along."
"Right." Linley undid the alien's webbing. "This way, M'lord."
"What are you going to do with me?" Linthvar demanded.
"We're going to let you go," Alan said, mildly. "Go with Mark, now, and don't cause any trouble."
Mark gave Linthvar a push toward the lift. "That way, M'lord."
Together, they went out. The Shirva and Lyn were unfastening their webbing. Jeel was having difficulty with his and Lyn bent to help him. "It's this way. Press right there."
"Gotcha," Jeel said.
Mark was waiting for them with Linthvar in Halthzor's private lounge when they arrived. The Jilectan lay on his stomach on the thick carpet and he glared at Alan as he entered behind Lyn and the Shirva.
"Terran psychic!" he hissed. "Empath! Degenerate! How did you obtain the access code to Duke Halthzor's yacht?"
Alan assumed as innocent an expression as possible. "Just a lucky guess, M'lord."
Linthvar glowered at him. "Terran psychic!" he repeated. "Degenerate!"
Mark grinned. "He's a Terran all right, M'lord, an' he's five times the psychic you are. That's what makes you so mad at him." He knelt and injected the Jilectan unceremoniously in the upper arm. "There. That'll keep you civil until we're ready to send you home."
"How's Julia?" Alan asked.
"She was just sleeping when we left," Lyn said. "I think she's going to be all right, Alan."
Mark crossed quickly to the Jilectan-sized sofa, ignoring the restrained Jilectan now as if he didn't exist. He knelt beside her. "Jul, baby -- do you hear me?"
Julia didn't move and Alan bent over her, resting his fingers on her forehead. "Julia, it's Alan. Do you hear me?"
Her eyelids flickered and she moaned softly. Mark took one of her hands. "Jul? Honey, answer me."
Alan looked down at her smooth face, mottled now with a familiar red-blotched pattern. He sniffed experimentally and caught the scent of the drug on her breath.
"Sweetgrass," he said.
Mark swore under his breath. "Hope they were careful with the dosage. She was awake when we picked her up."
"They may have brought her to with artificial means," Alan said.
"Yeah, probably." Mark didn't let go of her hand. "Julia --"
"I hope she didn't talk," Alan said.
Linley met his eyes. "Better try'n probe her. See what you can get."
Alan nodded and concentrated, trying to extend a probe toward Julia's mind. He met with firm resistance: shielding. Only twice before had he attempted to read Julia's mind for other reasons than simply to test her ability to shield selectively. That, of course, had been before the Underground taught her the art of shielding. He knew that her shields were excellent, but with his power pack beside him, he thought he might be able to go through them.
There was a sudden, loud snore behind him and he glanced back to see that Linthvar was sound asleep and snoring most indelicately. Jeel was seated cross-legged on the carpet and he glanced at the Jilectan with a grin. "He's zonked," the Shirva announced in a broad, Shallockian accent.
Alan shook his head and turned back to Julia. "May I borrow you for a minute, Mark?" he asked.
"Sure." Mark extended his free hand, but did not release Julia's.
Alan rested a hand on his partner's wrist and extended his probe again. Power flowed freely from Mark, but Julia's shields resisted his efforts. Alan concentrated, striving to part the unseen barriers around Julia's mind.
Lyn put a hand on Julia's shoulder.
"Julia," she said softly, "it's okay. You're safe."
"It's okay, Julia," Alan said, taking his cue from her. "We've got you."
Julia shuddered and relaxed. Her shields gave way.
Alan extended his probe again with great care and gentleness, trying not to alarm her in her semi-conscious state. Quickly, he discovered the half-buried details of the interrogation, wincing a little at the remembered pain. She was aware of him, too. He sensed that, but she also recognized him and wasn't afraid.
She hadn't talked. The fact became clear within a minute or two of searching. Even under the influence of sweetgrass, her conditioning had held.
He withdrew his probe and squeezed her shoulder reassuringly. "You didn't talk, Julia," he said clearly. "Understand? You didn't tell them anything."
Her eyelids flickered again and a faint smile touched her lips. She turned on her side, curled up naturally and he could see her relaxing into deeper sleep.
Behind them, somebody groaned. Alan turned to see the Arcturian patrolman stirring and trying to push himself up with his arms. Alan went to him, Mark following.
"Well," Linley said. "Let's see what we have here."
The alien was one of the green-scaled, yellow-eyed members of the species. As Alan had seen when Mark had deposited him on the floor of the airlock, the patrolman had been hit on the shoulder. It wasn't a life-threatening wound, although it was certainly painful. The knock on the head was the reason for the alien's unconsciousness, but none of them had really had time to do much for him with the more urgent matters of the Patrol pursuit. Now Alan knelt by the man, taking his appearance in more fully for the first time.
The Arcturian groaned, reaching up one jointless arm to cover his eyes.
"Easy, friend," Alan said. He was already extending his telepathic probe into the alien's mind. Arcturians were far more difficult to read than Terrans, but some Terran psychics could manage it and Alan was one. What he saw made him gasp with surprise.
"Lyn!" he called.
She turned from Julia. "Yes?"
"Come here."
The Arcturian gazed up at them, his round, yellow eyes still slightly unfocused. His jowls were unnaturally sunken, Alan thought, as though he had not had a square meal in some time. Like all of his species, he had a protruding muzzle and his jaws, slightly open in a dazed grin, revealed needle-like fangs. His crest was half-raised and slightly lopsided, due to the large lump that adorned his forehead. Alan remembered, for an instant, the first time he had seen an Arcturian and recalled thinking the alien's appearance repulsive. It was hard to understand now what had caused that less-than-flattering first impression. Up until now, Arcturians had, for the most part, proven themselves good friends of the Terran Underground.
Lyn dropped beside him and froze, staring at the alien. "Tim!" she gasped. "Tim, is it really you?"
"Lyn!" the Arcturian croaked.
She threw her arms around him, somehow avoiding the injured shoulder, even in her excitement. "Oh, Tim! I thought you were dead!"
"And I was quite certain zat you were, my little friend." The Arcturian's arms curved gently around the Terran girl, holding her closely. "I am very pleased to find zat I was wrong."
"Who the hell are you, anyway?" Mark asked.
"He's Sublieutenant Timmar," Alan said. "Commander Parnell's friend."
Mark gaped at him for an instant and then began to grin. "Looks like it's old home week," he commented. "I'll be damned! Lyn said you got shot by the Patrol. She was sure you were either dead or taken prisoner."
Alan touched Timmar's left shoulder, beginning to peel back the scorched material of the uniform. "They got you, Sublieutenant," he said. "Turn sideways a bit so I can get a look at this ..."
Timmar obeyed somewhat gingerly. "Yess," he remarked in his sibilant tone. "Zat was when I fell. I do not remember hitting zee ground."
"You landed on your head," Mark said. "There's another sofa over there. Let's get you on it, and we'll take care o' that burn. Lyn --"
Lyn was already heading for the emergency kit that they had left beside Julia. Alan helped Mark lift the Arcturian to his feet. Timmar was heavy, as Linley had remarked before, and must mass close to Mark's own weight. Alan braced himself to take the Arcturian's weight as they led the injured alien to a second couch, also covered in red velvet and trimmed with real gold, and stretched him out face down on the cushions. Timmar gave a pained hiss and was silent.
"Sorry," Alan said.
"It iss nozzing." Another hiss. Alan bent over him and unsealed the uniform top. Mark helped him strip off the garment and cussed absently as he examined the burn.
"Not too good," he remarked. "Got the burn salve, Lyn?"
"Right here." She handed it to him and watched as Linley spread it thickly over the wound. When he had finished, she took the tube and passed him a bandage.
"Thanks." Mark began to wrap the scaled shoulder in the substance.
Lyn hovered beside him, and as he began to secure the bandage, she burst into speech, obviously unable to keep silent any longer.
"You look terrible, Tim! You're so thin! What happened? I'm awfully sorry I left you like that, but I thought you were dead. How did you get to the base, anyhow, and how did you manage to turn up like that? And what --"
"Pipe down, honey," Mark interrupted. "He ain't gonna do much talkin' 'til we get this burn tied up, anyway."
Lyn's mouth opened wide in indignation. "Now just a minute, Mark! I --"
Alan put a hand on her arm. "Easy, Lyn."
To his surprise, she subsided at once, biting her lip. Timmar shifted as Linley finished the bandaging job, then rolled carefully over.
"Congratulations," he told Alan. "Even her fazzer was unable to do zat wiz her."
Lyn flushed in annoyance. "My dad never told me to pipe down!"
"Oh yes he did," Timmar contradicted her. "Many times."
She opened her mouth and closed it again. "My father, Tim. Do you know what happened to him?"
Timmar shook his head, Terran fashion. "I do not, Lyn. I have heard no news of him, but zen, I have only been at zee base for twelve hours and I did not dare to fraternize too much wizz zee ozzer patrolmen. Zey might have noticed somezing strange. Zee name on my helmet was Patrolman Tomas Sneed." His fangs flashed.
"Good Arcturian name," Mark said.
Slitted yellow eyes turned on him. "What?"
"He's just joking, Sublieutenant," Alan said.
"Oh yes, of course." The teeth flashed again. "I will never become accustomed to Terran humor."
Miki and Jeel had come up beside Alan while Timmar was speaking. Jeel stared at the Patrol uniform for a moment and spoke softly to Miki in the Shirva language. Miki shrugged expressively.
The Arcturian returned the natives' scrutiny, his long face becoming sober. His crest rose. "You are from zee planet," he stated.
Jeel glanced at Miki, who in turn looked at Alan. Alan nodded. "Natives of Kasal," he explained briefly. "We brought them along because their race is being exterminated by the Jilectans and the Patrol, and it looks like the Underground is going to have to lend a hand."
The Arcturian was still looking at the Shirva. "Are you zee ones?" he asked.
Again Jeel looked at Miki. Miki frowned. "I don't understand, Sublieutenant," he said, in Alan's accent.
"Zee ones who helped me," Timmar said. "I do not remember --"
Miki frowned and turned to Alan. "What the hell's he sayin'? I ain't understandin' a word. He talks awful weird."
"He's asking if you helped him on the planet, Miki."
Miki shook his head, taking a step back from Timmar. "Hell, no. Shirva don't help 'trols."
Timmar coughed slightly. "Zat may be so, Miki, but I am not a 'trol now, even zo I look somezing like one."
Miki looked at the uniform. "He talks weird, Alan."
Alan smiled. "That's because he's an Arcturian. This is Timmar; Lyn's friend. Remember?"
"Lyn said he was dead." Clearly, Miki had not been following the conversation.
"I was not killed azz Lyn zought," Timmar informed them in slow, careful Basic. "I will tell you what happened to me, and zen you will understand. I have a great debt to pay to ozzers like you, for what zey did for me. If I cannot find zem to pay it in person, perhaps I can pay it by helping your people instead."
Miki looked at Jeel and shrugged expressively. In unison, the two Shirva flopped down to sit cross-legged in front of the sofa. Timmar looked at them for a moment, and then he began to speak.
**********
tbc
