Since I had already typed this up when I got sick, it only took a tiny bit of editing to make it fit to post, so here's part 4.
Giant Killer: 4/?
by Nancy Smith and Linda Garrick
The lights of the Loquin Spaceport blinked dimly below her in the darkness. There were three parking tiers and Julia selected the lowest level of the smallest tier, located at the greatest distance from the spaceport buildings, for the Jilectan limousine. The car was much too conspicuous, with its blazing red and gold emblem on the door. Carefully, she settled it into the darkest, most secluded corner and cut the engines.
Then she took inventory.
The little ticket she had concealed in her pocket, along with the stylus with which she had subdued the patrolman. Her purse had been dropped somewhere on the Embassy grounds. Her bracelet lay on the dashboard.
She picked up the little chain and examined it carefully. The catch looked undamaged. Why had it come off again, and when? How had it come to be in the possession of Lord Danthvor? The last that she remembered seeing it was when she had replaced it on her wrist back on the deck of her family's yacht, that afternoon.
Was it possible that she *hadn't* put it back on, but had, instead, left it on the boat? Perhaps the Jilectans had somehow traced her there and discovered the bracelet.
It seemed the only possible explanation.
Carefully, she replaced the chain on her wrist and pulled it experimentally. The catch held firmly.
Well, there was no use puzzling over it, and right now there were several things she must do. She dug in her pocket, pulled out her small penknife and hacked off her hair just below her ears. Then, using her handkerchief, she wiped the makeup from her face as thoroughly as possible, taking care to preserve the smeared grime.
Reluctantly, then, she picked up the ancient hat and examined it. Well, she must wear it. There was no choice. She whacked it against the seat a few times in a hopeless attempt to remove any excess passengers and replaced it on her head, pulling it far forward.
A quick glance in the mirror assured her that she no longer resembled the lovely, aristocratic daughter of the Ambassador's Executive Secretary -- not from the neck up, anyway. But the rest of her was a problem. A long coat or cape she simply must have in order to hide her very feminine figure from the public. And the looser the covering, the better.
Julia glanced cautiously around. The parking tier was dimly lighted and foot traffic was sparse. Now, if she could just go unnoticed until she obtained the necessary article ...
Opening the door, she slid out, the stylus clutched in her hand. Softly, she stole across the parking area toward the lift. She would need to find a lone individual -- some unsuspecting citizen concentrating on making his flight, and not on the possibility of being mugged ...
She reached the lift and crouched beside it in the shadow of one of the support pillars, awaiting her victim.
9
Mark brought the aircar to a gentle landing on the upper level of the smallest parking tier. Across from them, the spaceport lights blinked dimly.
"Okay, we're here," he said.
Alan started to open the door but his partner caught him by the arm. "Hold it a minute. I been thinkin'. You better not try'n go into the port yet. You're a mess, an' you might attract attention."
"But --"
"Besides, Miss Julia might not o' got here yet. Tell you what. There's gonna be Undergrounders all over the spaceport, includin' psychics, so they really don't need you. I'm gonna go in an' check out the Terra flights. You stay here an' scan for the lady."
"But --"
Mark grinned. "That's an order, Lieutenant."
Alan gave in. "All right, but be careful. The Jils will be keeping a sharp watch for anyone leaving for Terra, tonight -- or even asking about Terra flights."
Mark raised an eyebrow at him. "You think the Jils made me a Strike Commander 'cause o' my good looks, kid? Don't worry. I'll stay outta trouble." His expression softened. "I'll be back in fifteen minutes -- with your girlfriend." He handed Alan his blaster and replaced it with a stunner. "There. Do I look respectable?"
Alan nodded. "I guess. I don't see how she's going to just walk into the spaceport though. She'll be spotted sure. She's too conspicuous."
"A knockout, huh?"
Alan nodded. "She's tall and blond ... and beautiful."
Mark winked at him. "Only the best for my li'l pal."
Alan felt the heat rising in his face. Linley grinned. "How was she dressed?"
"Uh ... dark slacks and a dark blue top -- no sleeves. It -- well, the neckline was kind of --"
"Revealin'?"
"Yeah."
"Sounds like a terrific lady." Mark climbed out, slipping on his light coat.
"Be careful," Alan said again, before he thought.
Mark grinned. "*You* be careful. I'll be right back."
"Okay." Alan watched him stride away toward the lift that led to the lower levels.
He was still sore from his encounter with Halthzor, and his right arm twinged when he tried to use it. Alan climbed gingerly from the aircar and strolled casually through the dimly lighted parking area. The night had turned cool and he shivered, pulling his light jacket closely around him. The arm twinged, and he thought of Halthzor again, shuddering. If Julia were caught, her fate would not be pleasant.
He wandered slowly between the parked vehicles, glancing inside casually. What type of vehicle would she be in? A Patrol aircar, maybe? Possibly, or maybe a Jilectan official car. It wouldn't be hard to spot such a vehicle, but then, if Julia had any sense, she wouldn't stay in it for long. And if she was on foot, she would certainly avoid anyone strolling aimlessly through the parking area.
Carefully, he extended his probe, alert for the mind of a frightened Terran female, and almost at once contacted another mind -- but not that of Julia Austell. It was the mind of a Terran psychic.
"Hello?" Alan said, tentatively.
"Hi there," the voice answered. "Who're you?"
"Alan Westover. You?"
"Joanna Burke. You here looking for the Austell girl?"
"Yes. Any Jils around?"
"A couple. Lay low, Alan."
"I will." Alan continued to scan, ready to raise his shielding at a instant's notice. Five minutes later, his mind touched the mind of a Jil and he felt the alien's start of recognition. His shields snapped up. Drat!
A few minutes later, he cautiously lowered his shielding. The alien mind had moved away and was no longer detectable. Doggone it! This was going to make it hard for everybody! The Jils didn't need to worry about being spotted, of course, but the Terran psychics did, and any Terran psychic detected tonight would instantly be assumed to be a member of the Terran Underground.
Carefully, Alan began to scan again. A car approached and settled into the parking level between two other vehicles. Three men got out, carrying briefcases and luggage, and strode toward the lift. Alan extended his probe, discovered nothing, and withdrew.
He glanced at his chronometer, frowning. Mark had been gone nearly thirty minutes. He should have at least called in. What was taking his partner so long?
Alan pressed the stud on his chronometer and spoke into the unit. "Mark?"
No reply. Alan waited, nerves prickling. Had Linley been spotted by the Patrol -- or even a Jil? Seconds ticked by and became minutes. He pressed the stud again. "Mark?"
Silence. Alan bit his lip. He had to go look. He couldn't stay here without knowing what had happened. Besides, if Mark had been caught, his mind would be read and Alan's whereabouts discovered.
He headed for the lift at a run and entered. The conveyance descended rapidly to the first level and he disembarked, looking quickly around. Something had happened; he was sure of it. He increased his scans, searching now not for Julia, but for Linley.
And he felt something -- a tiny flicker from a mind, an unconscious mind equipped with inadequate shielding.
He turned right and hurried toward it, stopping to peer between two of the nearest cars.
And there was Mark, sprawled face down on the pavement, snoring lustily.
10
Julia clutched her stylus tightly as the doors to the lift slid aside. A figure emerged, the form of a tall, young man, striding briskly along. And, miracle of miracles, he wore a dark, loose coat, partially buttoned up the front.
"Excuse me, sir," she purred throatily.
He turned, and the little stylus hissed softly.
The man crumpled to his knees and sank slowly forward onto his face. Julia was beside him instantly, grasping him by the wrists and dragging him forward between two parked cars. He was very heavy, and she grunted with effort as she heaved his slack form into the shadow.
Moving rapidly, she stripped off his coat and shoes. In the dimness, she caught a glimpse of his profile. He was handsome, she realized. Very handsome, his features regular, his body tall, well-built and muscular. Blond hair waved crisply around the unconscious face.
But there was no time to admire. Julia slipped on the coat and jammed her feet, sandals and all, into the soft, leather ankle-high shoes. The clothing was expensive and well-made, she noted absently. Pulling the laces tight, she tied them quickly and firmly. Hastily, she patted the man's clothing and removed the billfold from his pants pocket. He was carrying a small stunner: the kind that many businessmen carried for personal self-defense, and she appropriated that as well. She wouldn't be able to walk into the spaceport with a blaster, she knew. The sensors would detect it instantly and she would have Security on her at once, but stunners were permitted. Reluctantly, she discarded the Patrol blaster and got to her feet. Then, with a silent apology to her victim, she headed across the parking area toward the spaceport.
She was afraid at first that she would attract attention. She felt horribly obvious in her floppy hat, overlong coat -- it came nearly to her ankles -- and enormous shoes, but after a few minutes, she relaxed. There were many others equally odd in appearance, and some more so. She watched a shaggy, dog-like creature shuffle past, its small, pointed ears twitching, and its long cape dragging on the floor behind it. With characters like that around, no one was going to notice a sloppy Terran kid in a long coat.
She glanced at the window labeled "Terra". Dared she buy a ticket to Earth tonight? Wouldn't the Patrol be watching closely and monitoring all Terran bound citizens?
Julia felt sure they would. Besides, she had none of her papers, and if she did they would catch her at once. Her one hope lay in hijacking a ship and forcing the pilot to take her to Terra. She glanced at the many gates leading to the hangars.
And jumped convulsively as a videoscreen came on above the windows, her own face framed within it. "Have you seen this Terran?" the speaker boomed. "This is Julia Austell. She is believed to have murdered two Jilectans this evening. A generous reward is offered for information leading to her capture --" The rest of the announcement was drowned in the sudden murmur of voices that arose from the citizens below. The murmur died quickly as a squad of Viceregal patrolmen passed, hands on the butts of their weapons. Julia sidled away and turned down a corridor that led to the section of the spaceport that housed the private vessels.
The hangars would be protected by force fields, of course, and the area was all but deserted. Julia sank down on a bench to wait, letting her mouth hang open and chewing thoughtfully on her tongue. A security guard passed, glancing curiously at her. Julia hiccoughed and started to drool slightly. The guard went on by, his lip lifting.
A few minutes later, three people passed her and turned down one of the narrow corridors. Julia waited a moment longer and then got to her feet and followed, the soft leather of her shoes making little sound on the tiles. The corridor ended in a shimmering energy field, beyond which was a closed door that undoubtedly led to the hangar. A small, plump man and an equally plump little woman were waiting patiently while a third member of the party, a taller, more slender figure in a snug, blue flight suit punched in a number combination on a wall-mounted touchpad.
"Excuse me, please --" Julia endeavored to sound breathless. "You dropped your stylus, sir --"
She came up to the two figures, her hand extended. The man turned, an amiable smile on his plump, placid face. "Thank you --"
Julia touched the switch and the man and woman collapsed to the floor. The figure in the flight suit spun, one hand reaching for his hip, but Julia's stunner was already out and leveled. "Drop it!" she hissed, fiercely.
Wide, golden eyes met hers and Julia realized belatedly that the being she had accosted was an Arcturian. She swallowed. "Do as I say, or I'll stun you!"
The small stunner clattered to the floor and Julia stepped forward across the forms of her victims. "Down the ramp! Hurry up!"
He turned and obeyed. The field flickered into existence again behind them and a moment later the pilot had opened the door to the hangar. Julia gestured him through and followed. The door slid to behind her.
Beyond, down a narrow ramp, Julia saw the ship. It was a Class 4 private vessel, not luxurious but sturdily built. Julia looked back at the Arcturian. "Are you a pilot?"
He inclined his head.
"All right; let's go. Open the airlock."
He did so, and she followed him inside and through the passenger compartment into the control room.
"All right," Julia said, "give your code signal and get us off world. Remember; I can pilot a skippership. This one can't be that different. If I suspect any tricks, I'll stun you and manage the takeoff, myself. Believe me, I have nothing to lose."
"I believe you," the pilot said. "I will do azz you ssay."
Julia kept her stunner unwaveringly on the Arcturian as he clicked the code signal into the spaceport computer.
"Destination?" a metallic voice inquired.
The pilot glanced inquiringly at her and Julia had a moment of irresolution. She couldn't tell him Terra. If she did, the computer would command them to wait until the passengers of the ship were investigated, and if they took off without permission, the Patrol would be after them in no time.
The Arcturian was still waiting. Julia cleared her throat. "Where were you planning to go?"
"Ze Procyon ssystem," the alien told her, sounding puzzled.
"Fine. Tell the computer that."
The pilot did so. The computer beeped softly and a light flashed red on the panel. "Cleared."
"Go on," Julia said.
There was a whine of engines and then the momentary heaviness of acceleration. On the viewscreen, Riskell fell away beneath them.
The artificial gravity clicked in. Julia watched the control panel, listening to the thin scream of the atmosphere on the hull. Slowly, it faded.
"Breaking atmosphere," the Arcturian said. "Ssetting for hyperspace."
"Wait," Julia said.
The alien paused, his green-scaled hands poised on the controls.
"I want to go to Terra," Julia said.
He stared at her in horror. "I have already reshistered Procyon on ze sspaceport computers!"
"Do it!" Julia snapped. "I don't need you anymore. The code signal's been given, and I can set hyperspace and pilot for myself, if necessary. So do as you're told or you'll be swimming back to Riskell!" She paused, suddenly feeling ashamed and a little sorry for him. "Let me worry about the fine for giving false information to the comp."
"It iss not a fine," the pilot told her glumly. "It iss fifteen years in a penal colony."
"Set for Terra," Julia said. "And don't worry. If we're caught, you can blame me. Fifteen years in a penal colony is the least of my worries."
The pilot hissed softly between his teeth and did as she commanded. There was a protesting beep from the computer. "Attention 'Lady Luck'. You have registered Procyon on the terminal computer. If you wish to change your destination, it will be necessary to return to the spaceport. Do not, I repeat, do not go into hyperspace without --"
The voice was cut off abruptly as the little vessel converted to hyperspace. The stars on the viewscreen vanished.
11
"Mark!" Alan knelt beside his partner, examining him frantically for wounds. "Mark, answer me! Are you hurt?"
There was no response, nor did he discover any injuries. Linley wasn't hurt. He merely seemed to be asleep.
"Mark, wake up!" Alan hauled his partner over onto his back. Linley's eyes were closed, his features relaxed in sleep. Alan shook him. "Mark, can you hear me? Please wake up!"
Linley's head flopped back and forth. Desperately, Alan shook him again and then glanced around. If they were discovered by security guards, the situation might prove very difficult to explain. "Mark, can you hear me? Wake up!"
No response. The lift door opened and a man emerged. Alan froze in the shadows. The fellow strode on by, oblivious of the two persons between the cars. When his footsteps had faded, Alan heaved Mark into a sitting position, got his partner's arm over his shoulder and tried to lift him in a fireman's carry. He made it to his feet, remained there a moment, teeth gritted, and then sank slowly back to the pavement, gasping for breath. Something fell from Mark's clothing, landing beside Alan's foot with a soft clink. Alan glanced down and froze.
A thin gold chain with a smooth gold heart attached. Snatching it up, Alan examined it eagerly. There could be no doubt about it. It was Julia's bracelet: the same bracelet that she had worn that afternoon at Lake Dunnum, and which he had last seen in the white, six-fingered hand of Duke Halthzor.
Alan stared at the thing in sudden, wild surmise. She had *been* here! Or else, maybe a Jil had been tracing her ... but --
Alan closed his eyes and opened his shields wide. The aura was there, all right, faint but clear. Julia had been here, and not so long ago. There was no hint of a Jilectan.
He shoved the bracelet into his pocket and shook Linley desperately. "Mark, wake up!"
Mark said something unintelligible, but did not open his eyes.
"Mark, please, you've *got* to wake up!"
Linley's eyelids fluttered and opened. He stared vacantly at Alan. "Whassa matter?"
"Come on!" Alan tried to pull him to his feet. "Please, Mark!"
"Waffor?"
"Because I can't carry you! You're too big. Please, we just have to get into the lift."
Mark sagged across him. Staggering, Alan dragged him toward the lift, which opened obligingly. A woman emerged, glancing at him curiously. "What's happened?"
"My brother's sick," Alan said. "I'm taking him back to our car."
"Oh. Would you like me to call for a doctor?"
"No," Alan said. He tried to look disgusted. "I'm afraid he isn't really sick. Just been drinking too much, again."
"Oh." The woman also looked disgusted and strode on. Alan hit the touchpad for the third level and the lift went smoothly upward.
On the third level, the doors opened and Alan staggered out, half-dragging, half-carrying the sagging form of his partner. Mark groaned, writhing uncomfortably in his grasp. Alan overbalanced and fell, landing hard on both knees, his teeth clacking together. Mark slumped forward and once again began to snore lustily.
"Darn it, Mark!" Alan gasped. He staggered upright again, caught his partner beneath the armpits and dragged him by main force toward their car.
Later he wasn't sure how he had done it. Mark was as limp as ever by the time he reached the vehicle and Alan was so winded that he could scarcely get the door open. For a moment, he simply leaned against the aircar, gasping, then, forcing himself to move, he bent, caught Linley beneath the arms again and hauled him into the front seat by sheer muscle power.
Mark continued to snore. Still gasping, Alan pushed the button to close and lock the doors. "Mark, wake up! You've got to tell me what happened?"
"Lemme 'lone, kid."
"Wake up!" Alan shook his shoulder.
Linley turned on his side. "Later. Gotta shleep ..."
"Mark!"
Linley swung at him. Alan avoided the blow and looked desperately around. The first aid kit lay on the dashboard and he grabbed it, yanking it open. After a moment's search, he located a large, yellow capsule. Snapping the kit shut, he leaned over and broke the object beneath his partner's nose.
Mark stirred, gasped and swore. "What the blazes are you doin'?" He straightened up, coughing slightly. "Hey! What the devil --"
"What happened to you?" Alan asked.
"Huh? How'd I get back here?"
"I found you on the first level, beside the lift, sound asleep. It looked like a sleeping vapor to me. Do you remember what happened?"
"Are you okay?" Mark asked. "You're beet red and sweatin' like crazy."
"I'm not surprised. I just carried about a hundred and twelve kilos across the parking tier."
Linley looked down at himself and swore. "What the hell --" He rubbed his forehead. "I was makin' for the port an' I'd just stepped off the lift when I heard somebody call me. I think it was a woman's voice, but I really ain't sure. Sorta low an' husky, y'know. I don't remember nothin' else." He broke off suddenly with a gasp of realization. "My coat's gone! An' dammitall! My shoes, too!"
Alan produced the bracelet. "You were lying on this. It's the one that Halthzor took away from me."
"Julia Austell's?"
"Yeah."
"You mean, *Halthzor* was the one that mugged me?"
"Couldn't be," Alan said. "You're not thinking clearly. Julia assaulted him, remember? And she probably took her bracelet back at the same time."
"That *girl* did this to me?"
Alan nodded. "She'd been there, all right."
"She *mugged* me!" Mark felt in his pocket. "Damn her! She took my wallet, too!"
Alan began to laugh, partly in relief. "Remember, I said she'd be too conspicuous just to walk into the spaceport. I guess she thought so, too."
"So she needed a disguise an' I was the lucky one."
"I guess so. Come on; let's see if we can catch her before she tries to board a ship. Hurry!" He got out of the aircar, "Are you feeling better?"
"My dignity'll never recover. Dammitall! I'm gonna look real cute runnin' around the port in my socks!"
"Oh, come on," Alan said, trying unsuccessfully to hide a grin, "you see all kinds in a place like this. No one's going to notice anything so commonplace as a man without shoes."
"You can talk!" Mark snapped. "You still got all your clothes!"
"Well," Alan said, deadpan, "I ran around in my socks for days back on Midgard and you never once showed the slightest bit of sympathy --"
"I did too. I carried you through the briars, didn't I?"
"That's right; you did. Would you like me to carry you through the spaceport?"
Linley aimed a punch at him. "C'mon, kid; run!"
**********
"I didn't see nothin' that looked like a Patrol car," Linley said as they reached the doors of the main terminal, "or even a Jil limo."
"She probably hid it somewhere," Alan said. "I would have, if I was her."
"She seems t'be thinkin' pretty clear in spite o' everythin'," Mark said, a little sourly. "An' I'll betcha Halthzor an' his pal Danthvor were usin' that bracelet to trace her. That's how they had it with 'em when they found her." He laughed maliciously. "Seems t'me the Jils chose the wrong person to pick on when they came after Miss Julia."
As they entered the brightly-lit spaceport, a squad of Viceregal patrolmen passed them. Alan turned discreetly away.
"She may realize that they'll be watching all the Terra flights," Alan said, softly.
"Betcha anythin' she does. I'm beginnin' t'feel quite a healthy respect for that young woman."
They sauntered toward the booth marked "Terra". Abruptly, Alan tensed as the aura of a Jilectan touched him. His shields snapped up.
"A Jil!" he whispered.
Linley tensed, too. "Nearby?"
"Yes."
Linley turned his head. "There he is. Behind us an' t'the left, but he ain't lookin' at us. He's watchin' the line at the booth."
"Great." Keeping his shields tightly closed, Alan visually scanned the line of beings waiting to purchase tickets. There were several women about the size and shape of Julia, but none of them resembled her in feature or coloring. "I don't think she's there."
"Take a careful look. We don't wanna hafta come back with that Jil there."
Alan did. "I'm sure she isn't. Let's get out of here." His skin was crawling with the awareness of the Jilectan's proximity, although he couldn't sense the alien with his shields up. Another squad of patrolmen went past as they turned down a corridor toward the private hangars.
"You think she mighta gone this way?"
"I don't know. It can't hurt to look, though. We can't do anything else, really. I sure can't lower my shields with that Jil around."
"Yeah. Hope he don't try'n scan *me*!"
"He won't. He's looking for a woman."
"An' maybe for Terran psychics that're lookin' for her. Keep your shields up tight."
"I am." Alan turned away from another squad of patrolmen. "Dear me; Julia sure stirred up a hornet's nest, didn't she? I wonder if --"
He was interrupted by an alarm bell, pealing deafeningly, and a voice spoke over the intercom. "Alert! Alert! Security to Section 48! Security to Section 48!"
The Patrol squad went past them at a half-run. Alan and Mark looked at each other and followed without a word.
They hurried after the squad, accompanied by a varied crowd of curiosity seekers and, no doubt, a few Undergrounders. Staying in the center of the group, Mark and Alan moved down a small corridor toward the section of the spaceport that housed the private vessels.
The door to one of the private hangars stood open, and a plump, middle-aged man was sitting on the floor beside it, his shoulders supported by a security guard. A woman was slumped on the floor beside him and another guard was bending over her. Patrolmen and onlookers surrounded them.
"What happened?" a Patrol lieutenant demanded.
The man coughed and swore. "He took my ship! That bloody so-and-so took my ship!" He coughed again. "Where's my pilot? Dannar?" He tried to get to his feet. "Dan!"
The Patrol lieutenant spoke to a sergeant. "Check inside the hangar. Michaels, you, too."
The two men vanished inside and the officer turned back to the little man. "Did you see the person that did it?"
The man nodded. "Yeah. Just a glimpse. Louise, are you all right?" He got to his knees and bent over the unconscious woman. "Louise!"
"She's okay, mister," the security guard said. "Whoever he was, he hit you with a sleeping vapor."
"Was it a woman?" the Patrol lieutenant demanded, harshly.
"A woman?" The man shook his head. "Looked like a kid. Louise? Listen; maybe we'd better call a doctor --"
The lieutenant caught the man by the collar and yanked him to his feet. "What did he look like?"
The little man started to struggle, but subsided as the officer tightened his grip. "I didn't see much, blast it! Let go of me!"
The lieutenant shook him. "How was he dressed?"
"Uh ... long coat, ragged old hat. Looked lousy and dirty. A street punk, I guess." The little man tried to pull free again. "Look, I haven't done anything wrong."
The sergeant and patrolman reappeared. "Nothin', sir," the noncom reported. "Ship's gone, and there's nobody inside."
The lieutenant swore under his breath. "Where was that ship going? Find out, Michaels."
"Yes sir."
The officer addressed the victim again. "You're coming with us, mister. Lord Halthzor'll want a word with you."
The little man went white. "I've told you everything!"
The lieutenant pushed him to a patrolman and spoke into his helmet communicator. Alan and Mark turned quietly away and started back toward the exit.
"Well," Mark asked. "Was it her?"
Alan nodded. "I think so."
"I figured as much. Thought I recognized the technique." He grinned suddenly. "Seems t'me that little Miss Austell has slipped rather easily into her new criminal role."
"She does seem pretty good at it, for a beginner," Alan admitted. "Now what?"
"I don't know. I guess we better report to Dean, but first let's see if we can find out where that ship was going." He paused as a small, dark-haired girl touched his arm. "Whatsa matter, honey? You lost?"
"No," the girl said. She smiled impishly. "My name's Joanna Burke. Hi, Mr. Woodruff."
Alan gulped. "Hi." He glanced at Mark and lowered his voice. "She's a psychic."
Linley's eyebrows went up. "Whatcha doin' here, youngster?"
"I'm seventeen," she said, loftily, "and I'm here to tell you and Mr. Woodruff that we've been in contact with our man in the tower. That ship was supposed to go to the Procyon system, but it changed course after registering Procyon on the computer, and fed in the coordinates for Terra. Dean says you're both to go after it, and to make for Station 7. Miss Austell knows Alan, so it'll be nice if he's there when she arrives."
"Oh," Alan said, feeling very inexperienced. "All right, Miss Burke."
She smiled at him, sweetly. "He also says 'be careful'."
"Tell him we will," Mark said. He took Alan by the elbow. "C'mon. We'd better make tracks. She's got a good start on us."
**********
tbc
