The Crystal Demon: 26/?
by Nancy Smith and Linda Garrick
XXX
"Lyn and I were fleeing from zee Patrol," Timmar began, still speaking slowly and carefully. "Zeir blaster shot caught me in zee side azz I ran. I dropped zee globe and Lyn picked it up." His fangs flashed for an instant at her. "I have neffer seen anyone move so fast. Zen she ran and I was left alone except for zee 'trols." The Arcturian shifted carefully to his side.
"Zey went by me in a rush and disappeared into zee trees after Lyn. One of zem stayed long enough to secure my hands and drag me to his aircar. He was pulling me inside when he suddenly became very sick. I also became sick. It was horrible." The Arcturian's muzzle wrinkled in remembered distaste. "Zen, I zink I must have passed out.
"It was late when I awoke. Zee light was fading and all was very still. I was lying alone beneazz a tree and zere was a skin of some animal over me, but I have no memory of how I arrived zere. My side was bandaged very neatly wiz what looked like leaves bound over zee wound wiz strips of leazzer. My hands were free azz well and, alzough I was still in considerable pain, my mind was clear." He paused, looking almost in awe at the two natives.
"Four of zese little people were zere. I do not recall zeir exact features, but one of them looked a great deal like zat one." He indicated Jeel with one taloned hand. "Zey were very kind to me, caring for me over zee next few days, bringing me food and water and tending my wound, but after zee first day, I could not eat. My wound became worse, for all zeir care, and by zee second day I knew zat fever had set in and zat I was done for. I was very hot and zirsty and I kept seeing zings zat I knew could not be zere. Zee little natives stayed wiz me constantly and finally, when I was nearly unconscious, one of zem brought a wooden bowl of somezing. It was liquid of some kind, wiz bits of herbs floating in it. I did not want it, but zey insisted, and when I still refused, one of zem held my nose, and zee ozzers poured zee stuff into my zroat. I drank to prevent immediate deazz by drowning and zen told zem what I zought of such brutal tactics in regard to a sick man. Zey giggled and patted me, and again covered me wiz zee blanket." He glanced at Jeel again. "Zen zey started to sing to me, and one of zem danced very gracefully. I must have fallen asleep before zey finished. Azz zee drowsiness crept over me, I was certain zat I would never waken again, but somehow I was no longer afraid.
"But," he continued, "somewhat to my surprise, I *did* awaken, weak and drained, but clear-headed once more. Zee natives were sitting around me, very quiet, and watching me. One of zem brought me water and food. I drank, zen ate a little. Zen I must have slept again. When I awoke, it was broad daylight and I saw zat I was still in zee clearing, surrounded by zee great trees. A wooden bowl of food was beside me and anozzer of water. I felt much stronger and zee fever had gone. Zere was no sign of zee natives except for zee food zey had left." He paused, his eyes never leaving Miki and Jeel. "I neffer saw zem again."
Again he paused. The Shirva glanced at each other and Jeel shrugged, starting to say something, but the Arcturian had resumed. "Your people saved my life, alzough zey did not know me. To an Arcturian, zis is a most serious zing. It is a life debt, and if zose natives ever need my assistance, I not only must give it but I wish very much to give it." He stopped again and looked at Alan. "Can you translate for me, sir?"
"It may not be necessary," Alan said. He turned to the Shirva. "Did you understand him, Miki? Jeel?"
Miki nodded, and his expression was no longer hostile. "Sure, I understand, kid. An' I know why my people helped him 'stead o' killin' him. He was a prisoner o' the Patrol." He shrugged and smiled at the Arcturian. "Dammit, don't worry about it. It's okay, for the luvvamike."
Alan hid a grin at the way Timmar's crest lifted in surprise. The two Shirva approached the alien a little shyly and Miki patted him comfortingly on his muzzle. "Don'tcha worry about it, Fish," he said.
Alan felt his cheeks flame at Miki's casual use of the derogatory slang term for Arcturian that Miki must have picked up from Mark. Lyn's face also went red and she gasped, "Miki!"
Timmar's jaws split in a wide, if hair-raising grin. "It is obvious zat Strike Commander Linley has taught zem zee language."
Mark was grinning, too. "Right'cha are, Sublieutenant, an' a pretty neat job if I do say so, m'self." He mussed Miki's hair. "I'm sure Mik here meant no offense. He just heard me call an Arcturian 'trol that, an' I guess it stuck. They're great mimics. Sometimes they talk like me, an' sometimes they talk like Alan. In a few days they might start talkin' like you, if you decide to stick around."
"Go on, Tim!" Lyn prompted. "How did you end up at the base?"
"Ah, yes!" The Arcturian said. "I started at once toward zee base, knowing zat I must get transportation or zat I must remain forever on zat world."
"How did you know which way to go?" Alan asked.
"Arcturians always know," Mark said. "I ain't never seen one of 'em get lost yet, no matter what the situation."
"Zat is so. We have a built-in compass." Timmar tapped his forehead. "A homing instinct, some Terrans call it. In a situation such azz zee one in which I found myself, it was very convenient, but still zere were problems. I was hungry, for one zing, and zirsty. I found streams from which to drink but food was indeed a problem. I caught fish --" He closed his eyes and grinned horribly at the memory. "Zey were delicious! Zis world has zee most delectable fish zat I have ever eaten. And once, zee natives must have been following me again, for I awoke to find a wooden bowl of food beside me. I also found many bodies --" He paused. "All Patrol, and in various stages of decomposition. I zought at first zat some ferocious animal must inhabit zee planet, but later, I realized zat it was not so. Very few of zee patrolmen appeared to have been attacked and many times zeir blasters were missing. I wondered about Lyn and what had become of her. It seemed likely zat whatever was killing zese people would also kill her." He smiled toothily at Lyn. "I should have known better."
"It was the natives that were killing the patrolmen," Lyn told him. "That's why you and I survived. We were being hunted by the Patrol, so the natives knew that we were enemies of the patrolmen."
"Yes, I see zat now." Timmar looked at the two small aliens with respect. "Zey are very efficient. I am very glad zat I was not assigned to zis planet while I was still in zee Patrol."
"I'm glad you weren't, either," Lyn said.
Timmar took her small hand in one of his taloned ones. "Ah, Lyn, I am so very glad zat you were not killed. I have grown most fond of you over zee last seventeen years." He glanced at Alan and his jaws split in another grin. "Somehow, I always zought zat you and young Alan Westover should someday find one anozzer."
Alan felt himself turning red under the Arcturian's gaze. "Why did you think that?"
"Because I knew Lyn was a psychic and zerefore could not remain azz she was, forever. I zought many times zat I should tell her fazzer, but zee time and opportunity never presented itself. Her secret was safe wiz me, for zee Shilectans cannot read zee mind of an Arcturian, but Sheff was different. Him, zee Shilectans could read wiz great ease, and I feared zat if I told him, a Shilectan would pick it from his mind before he could escape wiz zee child. Zen zey would bozz be killed, Sheff for desertion and Lyn for being a psychic."
"How did you know I was a psychic?" Lyn demanded. "I never told you -- or anybody!"
"He's an Arcturian," Alan said. "Arcturians can sense psychics."
"Zat is so," Timmar said. "Your mozzer was also a psychic, Lyn."
"Did she know?" Lyn asked.
"Zat I do not know. If she did, she said nozzing."
"Go on with your story," Alan said. "You must have eventually arrived at the base. Then what happened?"
"Ah yes, back to my history. You are correct. I arrived at zee base. It was evening of yesterday and zee place was very quiet. I waited in zee trees, wondering how I should get on base when fortune finally smiled on me. Patrolman Tomas Sneed happened along. He was walking at zee edge of zee trees, making guard rounds, I suspect. I borrowed his uniform and entered zee base wiz anozzer guard."
"What did you do with him?" Lyn asked uneasily.
"Oh nozzing," Timmar replied airily. "I stripped him of his uniform and cuffed him to a tree. He will be found sooner or later."
Alan sensed the lie easily. Timmar didn't wish to upset Lyn. Tomas Sneed would never be found, unless the Patrol dragged the river for him.
Timmar was continuing. "It was noon of zee following day zat Duke Halzzor arrived wiz Miss Austell. Of course, I was very interested in zis, since rumor quickly reached me zat she had been found not only in zee company of Mark Linley, but also of Lyn Parnell. Of course I wished to know more about zis and tried to find out as much azz I could. Miss Austell was being held in zee brig, under guard, and Duke Halzzor himself was wiz her, which made it very difficult for me to learn anyzing, much less to attempt a rescue. I remained near zee brig in case my chance came, but when it finally appeared I was off my guard. You had Miss Austell in zee aircar and were taking off before I could tell you who I was. I joined zee pursuit, and seeing you heading for zee 'Firebird', I feared zat my chance would be lost, so I made a run for it. I almost made it, too." He rubbed his burned arm reflectively.
"My goodness!" Lyn said. "And I thought I had a bad time!"
"It was not so bad," Timmar said. Again he turned to the natives. "Zee hospitality was wizzout doubt zee best I have effer received."
Miki grinned happily and patted him on the shoulder. "Ah, what th' hell," he said.
"It was nothing," Jeel said, in Alan's accent.
Alan restrained a grin, glancing sideways at Mark. "Well, now that we're all up to date, how are we going to return Linthvar?"
"Linzzvar!" Timmar's eyes widened again. "He is here?"
"That's him you hear snorin', over there on the rug." Mark pointed with his thumb. "The question is, how do we return him?"
"Let us kill him," Timmar suggested. "We are all under a deazz sentence anyway. It would make no difference."
"The Underground doesn't operate that way," Mark said, a note of regret in his voice. "We don't kill without cause, and we promised -- kind of. Even if Fong didn't back off."
"He was under orders," Alan said. "He couldn't. You'd have done the same thing in his position, Mark."
"Yeah, I know. We gotta return His Lordship, but we didn't say nothin' about *how* we'd return him, as long as he's still generally okay. I got an idea about what we *could* do ..."
"What?" Alan demanded. Mark had a certain look on his face that made him nervous.
Mark told them. As he spoke, Timmar's jaws opened wider in delight. The Shirva began to cackle and caught each other's hands, performing a two-man handstand-flip that would have caused any circus manager to turn green with envy. Alan could feel his cheeks burning, and Lyn turned bright red.
"Whatcha think?" Linley concluded.
"Sounds like a fine idea," Timmar said heartily.
"Alan?"
Alan couldn't help grinning. "I think you should do the inscriptions, Mark. You have the vocabulary for it."
Linley smiled modestly. "Thanks. It'll be a pleasure. Where'll we send him?"
"Corala," Lyn said. "We want a planet with a heavy Jil population."
Alan nodded enthusiastically. "We can change course just a little so we pass close enough to let him out. We can come out of hyperspace and release a lifeboat with coordinates pre-programmed in. After all, we don't want him picked up by a Patrol cruiser prematurely and robbed of all that fine publicity."
"Definitely. Where'll we put him?"
"Somewhere in zee heart of Drevelle," Timmar suggested. "Trevinzzvor Square, perhaps."
"Perfect," Alan said. "Let's get busy."
**********
Alan helped drag the limp, nude body of Linthvar into the lifeboat. The Shirva followed, cackling delightedly as they loaded the alien's recumbent form into one of the passenger seats and snapped him in. Mark surveyed his artwork with satisfaction, then leaned forward to inscribe a final word in Basic on the Jilectan's right thigh. Alan stepped back.
"Looks good. I'll go get the servant. Be right back."
"Need any help?" Mark asked.
"Nope. He's awake."
The servant was awake all right, lying on his face across the rumpled bunk. He raised his head as Alan entered.
"Hi." Alan bent over him, rolled him over and helped him to a sitting position. "Come on."
"Where are we going?"
Alan removed the ropes from the man's ankles and helped him stand. The prisoner was half a head taller than he, but thin and spare. Round, blue eyes regarded him apprehensively.
"Lifeboat bay," Alan told him. "Come on."
"Are you going to kill me?"
"Of course not. You're going to Corala. Honest."
"Okay." The servant strode along beside him, glancing at him covertly. "Mr. Westover?"
Alan already knew the question from his contact with the man's mind. "Yes?"
"How old are you?"
"I'm nearly twenty-two."
"You don't look it."
"I know. Most psychics look younger than they really are." They stopped before the lift.
The servant licked his lips nervously. "I've heard that." He swallowed. "What did you do with Linthvar?"
"We're sending him with you."
The man nodded matter-of-factly. "I figured that. You know, don't you, that Halthzor's going to skin me alive when he gets his hands on me again."
"Why?"
"I was supposed to be taking care of the ship."
"But you couldn't stay awake all the time -- and anyway, you had no reason to expect an invasion."
"No, and he didn't say I couldn't sleep, either, but he's still going to beat me to a pulp."
Alan surveyed the man thoughtfully. "Well, I suppose you could always join the Underground. It's one way out."
The prisoner's eyes opened wider. "You're not serious!"
"Sure I am. A lot of our recruits come to us that way. They figure that the Jils were going to punish them severely or kill them for some imagined incompetence, so they change sides. That's how we got Strike Commander Griffen, you know. He was no more to blame for what happened on Toomelli's Moon than you are for what happened here."
The doors to the lifeboat deck slid open and they stepped out. Alan waved the man casually ahead of him toward Halthzor's personal lifeboat. The servant's apprehension and inner certainty that he was almost as good as dead had given him an idea. Besides, he felt a little sorry for the man.
The servant glanced apprehensively at Mark, leaning negligently against the body of the craft as he went up the short ramp. He paused in the hatch with a gasp of horror. "Holy space! You killed him and you're sending me back with the body!"
"He's not dead," Alan said. "Just drugged."
"Holy space! He's going to kill me when he comes to!"
Alan said nothing. Mark grinned unfeelingly. "You're the guy who wanted to work for these folks. In you go."
"No! Don't put me in there with him!"
"Go on!" Mark snapped. "He ain't gonna hurtcha. His hands are cuffed an' we ain't about to supply you with a key."
"He might not kill me, but his kin sure will!" The man gulped and looked piteously at Alan. "Can't you just leave me on a planet, somewhere? I won't object, wherever you say!"
"Forget it," Mark said. "We ain't goin' outta our way for a Jil flunky. Into the lifeboat."
The Jilectan groaned and stirred. The servant jumped, catching his breath. Mark swore. "Now we're gonna hafta drug him again! I thought that dose was big enough to hold him."
"Just a minute," Alan said. "Let him come to."
Linley shrugged. "Okay. Guess it won't make no difference."
The Jilectan groaned again and opened his eyes, blinking slowly. After several seconds, he lifted his head, appearing to revive with the typical speed of his species. The servant shrank back against Alan as though by instinct as Linthvar's gaze locked on him.
"You!" the Jilectan snapped. "What has happened?"
"Oh, M'lord, forgive me!" the man nearly wailed. "They're mad -- all of them!"
"Silence!" Linthvar straightened up in the seat. "Worm! It was your responsibility to care for His Grace's yacht. Your negligence has resulted in this disaster! I shall hold you personally responsible for what has happened --"
"Ah, shut up, M'lord," Mark snapped. "You're makin' me tired. Ol' Drew here didn't have nothin' to do with it. *You're* the one that got caught with his pants down."
The Jilectan's face flamed beneath its layer of paint and he began to sputter with indignation. The servant's mouth opened in astonishment at Mark's disrespectful address. Alan decided that it was time to play his trump card. He put a firm hand on the man's shoulder.
"Come on, Mr. Finley. Time to go. Sorry."
For the first time, Linthvar seemed to become aware of the state of his person. His mouth opened in horror and fury.
"You would not *dare* to do this! I will have vengeance! And as for *you* --" He glared at the quaking servant. "Your incompetence has resulted in this outrage! You will die as an example to others who neglect their duty --"
Finley made a strange sound in his throat and turned to Alan, dropping to his knees. "Mr. Westover, please!"
Alan stood still, looking down. "Yes, Mr. Finley?"
"Does your offer still stand?"
Alan inclined his head slightly. "Have you reconsidered?"
"I'd have to be crazy not to!" The man glanced at Linthvar, who was apparently speechless with fury at the turn of events. "Take me with you! I'm your man, sir! I'm not trained for anything except as a body servant, but I'll do anything you tell me! I'll work my brains out! Just don't send me with him!"
Mark burst into laughter and bent to unfasten the man's restrainers. Alan helped him to his feet. "Welcome to the Terran Underground, Mr. Finley. Raise your right hand."
Linthvar voiced a roar of anger. Alan ignored him as he administered the oath. Finley resolutely didn't turn his head but answered with a shaky and heartfelt "I do, Mr. Westover!"
"All right, then you're hereby inducted into the Terran Underground until the end of this conflict," Alan told him. "Welcome to the Underground, Mr. Finley." He extended a hand.
The man took it, heaving a deep sigh. "Thank you, sir. Thank you very much!"
"One thing, though," Alan said. "No more kneeling. It's against the rules."
"Whatever you say, sir!"
"You worm!" Linthvar shrieked. "Filthy Terran worm! To defect before my eyes! You will all die horribly for this! I will see to it!"
The servant took a deep breath and turned to face the irate Jilectan. "Stick it in your ear, Jil," he said.
Miki and Jeel broke into hysterical cackles. Lyn's voice spoke over the intercom. "Six minutes to sublight."
"Thanks, honey," Mark said. "Okay, everybody out. Lord Linthvar has an appointment to keep. See you later, M'lord." He led the way from the hangar as the lifeboat doors hissed gently shut behind them.
Moments later in the passenger lounge, Timmar looked up from his seat on the sofa. A tray of assorted exotic viands sat before him on the ornate coffee table, and Miki plopped down next to him, reaching for the bowl of fruit sitting next to the tray. He selected a large, golden fruit and examined it intently.
"What's this, Alan?"
"A Terran apple."
"Offworld grub," Mark said warningly. "Better not eat it, Mik."
Miki grinned at him and took a large bite. "It's great, for the luvvamike!"
"Hey!" Mark said. "Easy does it! It might be poison to Shirva!"
"Poison, hell!" Miki chewed and swallowed rapturously. "It's great!"
Alan frowned. "Miki, remember, you're our responsibility. We promised to bring you back safely. Now do as Mark says or I'll clap you in irons."
Miki sobered. "I'm sorry, Mark."
"It's okay. Apples are probably all right. They ain't poison to any species I know about. Just the same, be careful. That purple fruit there is called a plum. Procyons can't eat it. It sends 'em into convulsions."
"Oh," Miki said, sounding suddenly like Alan again. "Gosh, Mark, I'm sorry. I'm a dope." He hesitated, staring longingly at the apple. "It sure tastes good, though. Better'n anything I ever had before."
"Smells awful good," Jeel said, longingly.
"How's your Tchi holding out?" Alan asked.
Miki shrugged, still staring at the apple. "Some left -- not a whole bunch. It'll get us by, I guess." He swore softly, sounding suddenly incredibly like Mark.
Linley chuckled. "You're soundin' like a real Shallockian slum kid," he said. "At least most o' the time."
"Thanks." Miki's reply was distracted, and he still regarded the apple hungrily. "It don't smell poison. It smells *really* good."
The Shirva obviously relied on their sense of smell to tell if something was good to eat, Alan thought. An idea occurred to him, and he watched Miki with sudden interest. The little alien took a long whiff of the apple, and Alan could tell he was almost drooling.
"Look, Miki," he said suddenly, "if you still feel all right in ten minutes or so, I think we can figure the apple's harmless and you can eat some more of it. Go easy, though. Some foods have long term effects."
"Thanks, Alan," Miki said. He licked his lips. Jeel leaned forward and inhaled deeply of the apple's scent.
Finley was standing in the doorway, watching the scene with interest. '"Are they natives of Kasal, Mr. Westover?"
Alan nodded. "Miki and Jeel."
Jeel grinned up at the man. "You've picked the winners, mister," he said, glibly.
"Thanks," Finley said. "You speak Basic very well, Jeel."
"Yup. Mark taught me," Jeel told him.
Lyn's voice spoke telepathically in Alan's mind. *Two minutes, Alan. I might need some help.*
*Coming,* he answered, then spoke to the others. "Lyn wants me to help her. Everybody strap in."
"Sure," Mark said. "The way this baby converts I don't think we're in any danger, but we might have a reception party waitin' for us. You never know." He sat down in the nearest armchair and pulled the safety webbing across his lap. "Have a seat, Drew ol' boy. We're gonna listen in on the festivities from here."
**********
tbc
