The Crystal Demon: 27/?
by Nancy Smith and Linda Garrick
When Alan stepped into the control room, Lyn swiveled her chair around, a relieved expression on her face. "Gosh, I hope this is a good idea, Alan. I've never done anything like this before -- especially to a Jilectan."
"It'll be okay," Alan assured her. "The only thing we're going to injure is his dignity." He took the copilot's seat next to her. "Want me to take over?"
"Definitely. Dad taught me to handle a skipper but a Jil yacht is another thing altogether."
"They're not that different," Alan said. "By the time you've been in the Underground six months you'll be able to handle anything from a skipper to a battlecruiser." He glanced at the time indicator. "One minute."
Lyn smiled cautiously. "Do you really think I can?"
"Sure. You're a psychic. We're the Special Forces. We have to be able to do a little of everything, and the thing is, we can. I'll bet you never thought you could do any of the things you've done since we met on Xenis -- but you did, and you did them pretty well."
"I hadn't thought of that," she admitted softly. "I surprised myself, really."
"You didn't surprise me," Alan said. "I almost expected it. There were a couple of times I was afraid you'd been killed, but you came through alive and on your feet. You even stood up to Halthzor. It's not everyone who can say that."
She didn't answer, and he thought there was a surprised quality in the silence. He relaxed back in the seat, stealing a quick glance at her. She sensed it and turned her head to look him in the eyes.
*Alan,* she said softly in his mind.
*Yes?*
*You know, don't you, that I really wasn't insulted before when you thought I was attractive. I like you very much, you know, and I ...* Her mental voice wavered and then became firm. *And I did then, too. I'm sorry I behaved like such a fool.*
Her face was only centimeters away and almost on impulse Alan leaned forward. She didn't draw back and their lips touched in a quick, tender kiss. He drew back to see tears in her eyes. His heart was thumping unnaturally hard against his ribs, her hand was on his shoulder and he found himself leaning forward again. Their lips touched and clung.
A soft jolt announced their emergence into normal space. Lyn began to laugh shakily through her tears and Alan grinned sheepishly. "Oops," he said.
In the foreground of the screen swam the great, misty globe that was Corala, the capital world of the Jilectans in the Rovalli Sector. Alan tapped coordinates into the computer.
"There. The escape craft should land right in the center of downtown Drevelle." He grinned happily. "Right smack in the middle of Trevinthvor Square, where all the middle class Jils can get a good look."
Lyn giggled. "I used to hear about the Underground doing crazy things like this," she said. "I always wondered what kind of planning went into it. I never thought it might be just a practical joke."
"Sometimes they aren't," Alan said. "Sometimes they are, like this." He grinned. "Like Mark says, it breaks up the monotony."
"That's for sure! You know, Mark has a really good imagination," Lyn said, stating the obvious.
"He does at that," Alan agreed.
The lift doors opened behind them and Mark stepped into the control room. "Any sign of the Patrol?"
"Not yet," Alan said.
"Good. Let's stick around and listen to the fireworks."
"If we can," Alan said. A light blinked red on the control panel. "There goes the lifeboat."
"Happy landin', Linthvar, baby," Mark said.
The lifeboat appeared on the main screen, shrinking rapidly as it plunged toward the planet. Alan ordered the computer to locate the Patrol frequency. "Ah, there we are."
"Let's see what they have to say for 'emselves," Mark said.
For the first few minutes, the unit gave forth the usual Patrol information. There was a disturbance at a posh country club on the outskirts of the city proper. Looked like it might be the Lanishvar gang again. Young, lower-class Jilectans were harassing the gentry entering and leaving the club. The Patrol was to respond --
"I used to hate assignments like that," Mark commented. "Damned little delinquents. The only problem is, o' course, that they ain't little, an' they don't give two beans about whether they kill a Terran. If a 'trol gets killed subduin' one, the kid gets a little slap on the wrist for form's sake an' 99 percent o' the time gets off scot-free. But man! You should see the fur fly if they hurt one o' the gentry. Jils don't put up with it. I saw it once."
"I guess I'm not really surprised," Alan said. "What happened?"
"One o' the punks stole a Lord's aircar. He took off like a bullet an' crashed right into a Lady's limo. She wasn't really hurt -- scratched up some, an' ruined her pretty gown, but screamin' like a wounded saberclaw. The punk who did it --" Mark grinned and shook his head. "The Lady's Lord pulled him outta the wrecked car an' beat the --" He glanced at Lyn. "-- Daylights out of him. It was quite a show, an none o' us dared interfere. The Jil was Lord Hevinthvar, or somethin' like that, I remember. Never was too clear about his name. He wasn't no sissy, either. He beat the punk silly, then told me an' my 'trols t'take him away. Man, was he ever a mess! An', as I remember, they didn't do nothin' to the Lady's Lord, even though the kid's parents raised holy hell about it. The kid who caused it wound up in a labor camp. Had to work 'til he paid off the Lady's gown, aircar, hospital bill an' somethin' extra for the pain an' inconvenience."
"My goodness!" Lyn said. "I didn't know that could happen to a Jil -- even a lower-class one."
"It can, an' does," Mark said. "The Lords didn't get t'be the rulers o' the known galaxy by bein' soft."
More messages were coming in. An APB was out for a suspected Terran psychic who had somehow slipped through the fingers of the Patrol squad sent to arrest him, and bets were being made on the scores of the null-grav polo match due to broadcast this afternoon, Drevelle time. Then a voice cut in, sounding alarmed.
"Drevelle Base, come in! Emergency! This is the battlecruiser 'Leviathan'!"
"Drevelle Base here," a voice responded. "What is your emergency?"
"We are picking up a ship on our scanners, headed directly for the city! It doesn't respond to our hail but the comp identifies it as the personal lifeboat of His Grace, from the 'Firebird'!"
"What's the trajectory?" a second voice inquired, sharply.
"It appears to be headed for Trevinthvor Square, unless it changes direction at the last moment."
There was a chatter of voices in the background. Then: "It's the Duke's boat, all right, and appears to be on a pre-programmed course."
"Send scouts after it! Damn! They're probably sending his body back in pieces ..." More cusswords. "Why am I always the lucky one --" The voice cut off abruptly and the soft, grammatically perfect voice of a Jilectan spoke over the unit. "This is Lord Bominxvor. Jilectan lifeboat! M'lord Linthvar! Are you aboard?"
Silence.
"M'lord Linthvar! Are you able to respond?"
"Linthvar must be bustin' a gut," Mark said. "I disabled the com before we put him aboard."
"It's landing in the square, sir," a third voice chimed in. There was a long silence. Then: "She's just sitting there, sir. No movement -- nothing." Another long silence. Alan silently counted the seconds ticking away, half his attention on the scanners. So far there had been no sign of any other ship close enough to be a danger.
"Hol...l...y hell!" The transmission cut off abruptly.
Mark began to laugh. "They musta burned out the lock."
The com was babbling, demanding a report. The voice resumed, sounding strangely choked. "It's Lord Linthvar, sir. He -- well, he appears unhurt ..." The voice trailed off, and orders were shouted in the background, mingled with Jilectan voices, shocked and angry.
Alan grinned, glancing at Mark. "I think we'd better get going."
"I'm with you," Mark said. "Somebody's bound to get curious if we hang around here much longer."
"Coordinates set," Alan said. "Here comes a scout. Boy, he looks mad!"
Mark chuckled. "How can you tell? It's just a ship."
"Well, let's say I have the feeling that there's someone on that ship that isn't too happy with us. Twenty seconds to hyperspace."
The com came to life. "Patrol scout to Jilectan yacht 'Firebird'. Lay to and prepare for boarding."
"Ten seconds," Alan said. He reached forward and pressed the transmit control. "In your dreams, guys. Hope you liked the show."
There was a soft jolt as the yacht converted to hyperspace. Lyn giggled.
Mark clapped him on the shoulder. "I'm hungry. Let's see what kinda grub we can find in this joint."
**********
XXXI
"Twenty-eight minutes to sublight," Mark said. He sat back in his control room chair, glancing sideways at his partner. "Wonder if Kaley's heard about Linthvar, yet."
Alan shrugged. "What Kaley thinks doesn't interest me right now."
"Easy," Mark said. "He's probably kickin' himself all over the deck for what he said."
"Maybe," Alan said. He turned his head. "Julia's waking up."
"She is?" Mark started to get to his feet and stopped himself, annoyed that he had revealed so obviously how he felt about Julia Austell. Julia wasn't his type anyway. They fought constantly when in each other's company and besides, she was so hopelessly above him on the social scale. Her father had been the Terran Ambassador's right hand man, while he, Mark Linley, had been raised in the slums of Scaifen, on Shallock, the son of an unknown patrolman and a bargirl. His chances with Julia were next to nothing simply because of that. Why, Alan had a better chance. He, at least, had been brought up in a stable home, with good clothes, a proper education, parents who were married and committed to each other, and all the breeding that went along with such things.
Mark's formal education until he had joined the Terran Underground had been extremely basic -- it was to the Patrol's advantage to have their men able to read and do rudimentary arithmetic. Everything else that he had learned after that had been through his own efforts, and he had been known as something of a bookworm aboard the various ships where he had served. The education that he had acquired in that manner had undoubtedly helped him advance to the rank of Strike Commander by the age of 25. After joining the Underground, he had taken as many high school courses as he could cram into his erratic schedule and challenged others, and to his utter amazement had graduated from the base school in six months. It hadn't been particularly hard, either, which had led him to believe that the school was not all that difficult -- at least until Alan had disabused him of the conviction. Ever since, he had been doing the same with the base's military academy, and was well on his way to a degree in military science. The fact that his memory was photographic, like that of many of the psychics, probably helped, and his extensive practical experience also counted, but it was difficult for him to think of himself as an educated man.
Alan was watching him, frowning slightly. "I think she'd like to see you, Mark."
"You think so?" Linley felt a surge of emotion at Alan's remark and suppressed it forcibly. The kid was an empath, dammit! Of course he knew exactly what to say in order to make Mark feel good. He should be used to it by now.
"Mark, I'm not just being nice, and I wouldn't be doing you or Julia any favor to lie to you about something like that," Alan said. "Go see her. She's feeling pretty awful."
"She'd probably rather see you," Mark muttered.
"No, she wouldn't. Go on. I'll be there in a few minutes."
"Okay." Mark tried to sound reluctant, knowing full well that he wasn't fooling Alan for a moment. Alan's face revealed nothing, however. He never glanced up as Mark left the control room.
Lyn was seated on the huge couch next to Julia. She looked tired, which wasn't surprising. As he entered, she poured a cup of water for Julia and held it to the other girl's lips. Julia took a sip and turned her face away.
Mark sank cautiously down on the sofa next to her. "How you doin', Jul?"
Julia blinked up at him, her eyes slightly unfocused with the aftermath of the drug. "Mark?" she whispered hoarsely.
"Yeah." Mark started to reach for her hand, but stopped himself, resisting the temptation. "How're you feelin'?"
"All right." She closed her eyes for a moment and swallowed. "Is everybody all right?" she asked, blinking hazily up at him.
Mark nodded, and then realized she probably wouldn't notice the subtleties of body language. "Everybody made it just fine."
She closed her eyes again. She was beautiful, he thought wistfully, even in her shaken and disordered state. Fine, honey-colored hair clung to her smooth forehead, and her lips, long since washed free of makeup, were a deep, coral hue, contrasting with the pallor of her face. Mark bit his lip.
Lyn rose and moved discreetly away. "Think I'll get some coffee, Mark. Would you stay with her for a few minutes?"
"Sure, baby."
Julia was watching him, and it was she who reached for his hand. He met her halfway. Her fingers were damp, the skin roughened. Mark swallowed hard as he saw her close her eyes, but her hand clung tightly to his.
"Did I talk?" she whispered.
"No," he said. He cleared his throat. "Hell no. You got more guts than half a dozen guys, baby. You didn't say a word."
"Are you sure? I don't remember what I --"
"I'm sure. Alan probed you. He figured you wouldn't mind."
The corners of her mouth turned up slightly. "Thanks," she whispered. "Thanks."
She squeezed her eyes more tightly shut, and to Mark's horror he saw tears beginning to leak from under the lids. He resisted the urge to take her in his arms, which he was sure she wouldn't appreciate, and squeezed her hand. "Honey, it's all right. You need to sleep some more, and you'll feel a lot better when you wake up." It probably wouldn't be very wise to mention that he knew because he had attended a number of sweetgrass interrogations in person. He'd hated them, and Salthvor had known it, which was why he'd forced Strike Commander Linley to attend, but the result was that he had a pretty good idea of what Julia had endured, and what the course of her recovery would be. Sweetgrass was hard on the Terran nervous system, and it was advisable to keep people like Julia quiet for a while after the initial awakening. He found himself wishing that Alan would decide to come in. He wasn't sure of his ability to keep her calm.
His partner stepped cautiously through the door. "How is she?"
Julia's eyes opened and she blinked at him. "Okay," she said, hoarsely.
"Good. We'll be home in fifteen minutes."
"Home?" she whispered. "We got away?"
"Yeah," Mark said.
"Where did we get a ship?" she asked.
"This is Halthzor's yacht, baby," Mark said.
Her eyes widened. "Halthzor's yacht!"
"Easy," Mark said quickly. "We took off and the 'Tin Soldier' covered our retreat."
She stared at him and laughed a little. "How did you get on the base?"
"We grabbed Linthvar in the forest and got the access code from his driver."
"Oh. I should have known." She laughed again, a little hysterically.
Alan moved suddenly, grasping her by the upper arms. "Easy, Julia. Relax."
It was too late. The laughter escalated into shrill screams of hysteria. Mark moved suddenly, brushing his partner aside, and wrapped his arms around her, holding her in spite of her attempt to break away. "Easy, baby, it's all right. Take it easy."
Alan was also speaking, his voice low and soothing. For a few moments it had no effect, and then the screams began to subside to hoarse sobs. Mark continued to hold her tightly. "It's okay, baby," he whispered. "It's all over. Just think about that and nothin' else. We got you, and none of 'em can touch you again. I -- *we* won't let 'em."
She clung to him, burying her face in his shoulder and sobbing softly. Mark stroked her hair, feeling utterly helpless, but unwilling to release her. In the background, he could hear Alan's voice continuing to speak hypnotically, and slowly she became quiet again, her face still buried in his shoulder.
"The globe," she whispered. "I hid it in the river. We'll have to go back for it."
"We have it," Alan said gently. "Jeel and I found it. Jeel noticed something wrong, and together we found it."
"She hid it, an' wouldn't tell the Duke," Mark said. "She conned him like an expert."
"I had to," Julia said. "I didn't dare tell anyone else what I'd done with it. If they didn't know, they couldn't tell."
Mark released her and eased her gently down on the big couch again, not even trying to disguise his admiration for what she had done. Beauty, brains and guts was a rare combination, but Julia had them all, and in spades. Damn! If only he'd been brought up like Alan had been. There had never been any woman that he would have willingly given up his bachelor life for until Julia Austell had come along, and of course, she was the one woman he could never have. It just figured.
Julia was speaking again. "Did the Shirva make it, too?"
Miki appeared beside Mark and gave a leap, landing neatly on Linley's knee. "Hi, Jul!" he piped, sounding exactly like a Shallockian slum brat.
"Hello, Miki. How are you? You look a whole lot better."
"Hell yes, I'm in the pink," he assured her.
Julia frowned thoughtfully. "Alan --"
"Yes?"
"He does look better. They both do." She glanced at Jeel, who had landed on Mark's other knee. "They look great."
"Jeel and I brought Lemke back with us," Alan said. "They have enough to see them through, if they're careful with it."
Julia nodded, still looking puzzled. "But Alan -- I mean -- they look *better*. Better than they did when we first met them."
"I've noticed that, too," Lyn said from the doorway.
Mark looked thoughtfully at the little aliens. "She's right," he said. "We been too busy to think about it much, but they don't look a bit sick. Are you thinkin' what I'm thinkin', kid?"
Alan spoke to Miki. "What have you two been eating since we got on board?"
Miki shrugged expressively. "Lotsa stuff. First just a little, then more when it ain't hurt us, y'know. You said t'be careful an' we been careful, dammit! I ain't never had s'much good stuff in m'life that I couldn't eat!"
"It's in our food," Mark said. "Whatever the important stuff in the Lemke is, it's in our food. It's got to be."
Miki looked down at himself and then up at Mark, and his eyes were wide. "What th' hell? You're right! I'm feelin' great, and I ain't been eatin' enough Tchi t'feel great!" He gave a whoop and bounced suddenly from Mark's knee to land without a sound on the deck. "We musta been eatin' whatever we gotta have in your food! Like you said, the stuff in the leaves that's important to us!"
"You got it, kid," Mark said. "An' now all we gotta do is figure out what it is. I want you an' Jeel t'sit down an' figure out everythin' you've eaten since this trip started. Got it?"
"Right!" The two aliens ran out, hand in hand, like children. Mark grinned, turning back to Julia.
"Feelin' better now?"
She nodded, her cheeks flushing a pale pink. "I'm sorry to be so silly. Reaction, I guess."
"He was pretty rough on you, I guess." None of them was in any doubt of who *he* was.
Julia looked away, tears flooding her eyes. "He was awful."
Alan glanced apprehensively at him and shook his head slightly. Mark patted her hand awkwardly. "You'd better just rest now, honey."
"No." She gulped hard and turned resolutely back to them. "I'm all right now. I won't go all hysterical again. I promise."
"Julia," Alan said.
"No, Alan, I'm okay. He asked me about the Shirva and about the amulet Mark was wearing. He wanted to know how it turned the blaster fire."
"I'd sorta like t'know that, m'self," Mark said. "It happened again, y'know."
"Yes," Alan's voice sounded odd. "I know."
"When?" Julia asked.
Quickly, he told her. "Lyn's friend, Timmar, showed up as we were boarding. He got clipped, then fell on his head and knocked himself silly. I carried you aboard, then went back for him. An aircar showed up and took a shot at me -- should'a cooked me good, but it didn't. I guess 'cause I had the Droma around my neck."
Julia stared at him and then turned to look at Alan. He met her eyes and nodded slowly. "The shot was deflected."
"But ... how?"
"It hadta be the Droma," Mark said. "There ain't no other explanation. Miki's gotta be wrong about it just bein' psychic dangers it protects against."
"No," Alan said. "I don't think so. It happened to me, too -- right after we reached Kasal, remember? And I didn't have a Droma."
Mark frowned, recalling what he'd believed had been only a lucky accident, but now that he thought of it, it had been very similar to what had happened to him. "I guess you're right. But if it wasn't the Droma, what was it?"
"Me," Lyn said.
They all looked at the door where Lyn stood, looking a little embarrassed, but proud, too. Alan's face broke into a smile.
"I thought so," he said.
"*You* did it?" Mark said. "*How*?"
She shrugged and approached the sofa. "I don't know, exactly. It ... well, it started with Alan. I liked him, and he'd just saved my life. I didn't want him to be killed, and that interceptor was going to kill him." She paused, looking down. "I don't know exactly what I did. I just ... well ... really wanted to stop the shot and something happened. In my mind, I could see a shield of energy around him. It was easy, automatic, really. Then the ship fired and he wasn't hurt. I couldn't believe what I'd done."
Mark looked at Alan. "What *did* she do?"
"I'm not sure," Alan said. "It must be some kind of projected shielding that repels energy beams. Lee can figure it out -- I hope." Again, he spoke to Lyn. "Why didn't you say something?"
She shrugged, still not meeting their eyes. "Because I wasn't sure it was me that'd done it. I mean ... it was a pretty incredible thing to do. I've never used my psychic powers for anything before. I was too afraid of being caught."
"Sensible," Mark said. "When did you find out for sure that you were the one doing it?"
She shrugged. "Well, I'm still not completely sure. That's why I didn't want to mention it. But when those 'trols were trying to kill you, back in the forest, I did the same thing -- but on purpose, that time. They hit you three times, you know, and when they fired the one on emergency max -- well, I felt it jolt me. It almost hurt, and I was afraid if the 'trol fired again, I wouldn't be able to hold it back. But he didn't. And everyone else thought it was the Droma -- even Halthzor -- so I decided it would be better if I went on letting them think so. After all, I wasn't sure, myself, and I'm still not. It might have been my imagination, I suppose, but I don't see how. I felt sick and weak afterwards, too."
"I wondered what was wrong with you," Mark said.
"Whatever you do, it must expend a lot of energy," Alan said. "Drains you a bit."
"I felt drained, all right," Lyn said. She looked sideways at Alan, meeting his eyes at last. "I was a little puzzled, too. If I was using psychic energy, why didn't Halthzor sense it? That's sort of why I wondered if I was really doing it. I thought trained psychics could detect the use of psychic energy in others. You didn't sense it either, and you feel more powerful than Halthzor -- at least you do to me. Unless that's my imagination, too."
Alan looked a little surprised. "Well," he said after a startled instant, "some psychic energy can be detected easily and some can't. Telepathy is the easiest to sense, with clairvoyance running a close second. It's pretty hard to detect empathy, for some reason, and telekinesis -- and precognition is darned near impossible. We'll just have to try to test it. Lee can probably figure it out. He's the one that knows the most about the subject, but I don't think there's ever been a talent like yours. What a lucky break for us! I was beginning to think we had a guardian angel hanging around."
Lyn nodded soberly. "What about telekinesis? I've never moved anything with my mind as far as I know."
"We'll find out," Alan said. He turned his head as a shrill bleeping sounded. "We're here. Come on, Lyn, and you can have your first view of a main Underground base."
She followed him from the lounge. Mark scooted back against the backrest of the huge couch and pulled safety webbing from its hidden slots around Julia and himself. Her eyes were closed again, but her slender fingers groped for his. Mark slipped his hand around hers.
**********
tbc
