Toomelli's Moon: 7/9
by Nancy Smith and Linda Garrick
VIII
Mark stepped over beside the door to the Strike Commander's quarters and pressed himself against the bulkhead. "Go ahead," he directed. "I want to have a little talk with Mr. Parks."
Alan hesitated. There was a knock at the door.
"Hurry up," Mark said.
His partner gave a resigned sigh and pressed the button that opened the door. The panel slid open and Parks entered, slapping the closing button as he did so, a blaster in his other hand.
"C'mon, Peewee. You and me are going to give Lord Valthzor a surprise."
Mark took a long step forward and pressed the muzzle of his own blaster against Parks' spine. "Drop it."
The patrolman froze and the weapon dropped from his fingers. It stopped halfway to the deck and floated upward again, to land in Alan's outstretched fingers. Alan met the man's eyes. "Sorry, Mr. Parks."
Parks made a lunge for him. Mark's finger contracted on the trigger and there was a soft hum.
Linley replaced the blaster in its holster and bent, beginning to drag his victim into the valet's quarters. Alan followed. "What are you going to do with him?"
Mark dropped Parks to the deck with a thud. "Kill him, o' course. If he gets loose now, he'll head straight for the Jil. I'm kinda surprised he didn't report it already."
Alan grimaced. "Do we have to?"
"You don't have to, kid. You just look the other way."
Alan bent to remove Parks' helmet. "There's really no need. Griffen won't be back until 2300 hours. We'll be long gone."
Linley sighed. They always had this argument and he always lost. "I dunno."
Alan rolled Parks over, removed the restrainers from his belt and fastened his wrists behind him. "If we tie him up in here, they won't find him until it's much too late. Please, Mark?"
Linley compressed his lips. "It's an unnecessary risk."
Parks groaned and began to retch.
"Damn it," Mark said tiredly. He'd lost and he knew it. So did Alan, obviously.
Parks' eyes opened and, after a moment, focused on Alan's face and then swung to Mark. He moaned and swore weakly. Mark grinned sardonically. "Whatcha think we oughtta do with you, Parks?"
Parks met his eyes and gulped. Linley fingered the weapon and then flicked the setting to needle beam. "These rooms are soundproof, y'know, 'trol."
"Mark," Alan said.
Mark glanced at him. "Suppose the doc comes back to check on you, Mr. Gregson?"
"He won't. I'll stop by Sick Bay on my way out. I'll tell him I'm going ashore. Then he won't bother to come up here."
Mark grimaced. "This character ain't worth the trouble. Oh, all right, go ahead." He looked down at Parks again. "You're damn lucky you didn't hurt him too bad, Parks. If they'd taken him to Sick Bay, the matter converter woulda gotten a little extra fuel. You wouldn't be the first guy to wind up in it."
Alan began to tear the top sheet from the valet's bunk into strips. "Here."
With the efficiency of practice, they bound Parks' ankles together and gagged him securely. Mark drew his blaster. "Okay, Jojo, listen good. We're gonna tie you under the bunk. One squeak, one thump and you're a dead man. If you wanna live, lie quiet." His blaster hummed and Parks went slack.
Together, they rolled Parks under the bunk and Mark secured him tightly to the frame. Alan replaced the blanket carefully over the mutilated linen and straightened the bunk.
"They're going to interrogate Kaley as soon as we land," Alan said.
Linley cursed softly. "No waitin' period?"
"No. The Jil must be getting nervous. I sure hope he isn't sensing any problems."
"Yeah; me too." Mark got to his feet. "Anythin' else?"
Alan shook his head. "Nope; except that Strike Commander Griffen is required to attend and he doesn't like it one bit."
Mark made a face. "Don't blame him. I used to avoid interrogations like the plague. Look, I gotta get back out there. I'm goin' now to collect Dan. We'll join the escort when they take Kaley out. You can follow ten or fifteen minutes after we leave but I still don't see how you're gonna get into the prison. Dan an' me can go through with the rest o' the guard but you're gonna be a problem. It's awful risky. I think you oughtta stay outside."
"I'll get in," Alan said.
"But how?"
"I'll manage. The gate's one of those things that opens with your I.D. card, isn't it?"
"Yeah. That's standard for all top security bases. Guards can be slugged, but it's hard to slug a camera that's bein' monitored from a distance, and identostamps can't be bribed, either. But look: you can bet poor old Gregson ain't cleared for any top security bases."
"Never mind that. I'll get in. When you get there, wait for me. If I don't show up in twenty minutes, try something on your own, but give me that twenty minutes."
Mark sighed. "And I suppose if I say no, you'll do it anyway. All right, but be careful."
There was a groan from under the bunk and then the sound of gagging. Mark nodded at the bunk, looked meaningfully at his partner and went out.
**********
The whine of engines was rising in pitch. Landing was in progress. Alan waited until the miserable sounds from under the bunk had ceased and then lay down on the bunk. Fifteen minutes crawled slowly past.
Finally he stood up. Mark and Dannar would be entering the gate about now. Time to get going. He picked up Parks' blaster from the dresser and lifted the corner of the bedclothes again. A pair of dark, wretched eyes met his.
"Are you going to stay quiet, Mr. Parks?" he asked.
Parks nodded convulsively. Alan fingered the blaster. Parks was lying. He could sense that clearly but it really didn't matter. The rooms were soundproof, so whatever noise Parks made would go unheard. He didn't want to stun the man again. Awakening from a stunbolt was one of the most horrible experiences Alan had ever endured, and Parks had already endured it twice in the past thirty minutes. The guy had suffered enough.
He stood up and thrust the blaster into his bottom dresser drawer. It would certainly be out of character for the Strike Commander's valet to be carrying a blaster, after all. Alan exited the cabin and looked up and down the corridor.
No one was in sight. Alan headed briskly out into the corridor in the direction of the lift.
The great battlecruiser was extraordinarily quiet. There were none of the almost undetectable vibrations present in an inhabited ship. Most of the crew must be ashore.
The lift doors slid open before him, revealing the tall, angular form of the doctor.
"Gregson!" Van Kemphin came out of the lift. "I thought I told you to rest."
"I'm feeling fine, sir." Alan spoke quickly and firmly. "I'd really like to go ashore for a few minutes. I've never been to Toomelli's Moon before."
"I have." The doctor looked disgusted. "Not much to see, really, but there's a little bar set up for the men on the other side of the landing field. No girls or anything, but you can get a drink and relax. Look; are you sure you're feeling okay? You lip's still swollen."
"I'm fine, sir. Really I am." Alan smiled at him. "Thanks for being concerned."
The doctor shrugged. "Okay, then." He followed Alan onto the lift again.
The doctor returned to the infirmary and Alan took the lift to the eighth deck. In the airlock he paused, touching the intercom. "This is Gregson, Strike Commander Griffen's valet, checking out."
"Acknowledged, Gregson," the disembodied voice replied. Alan turned and went down the boarding ramp.
The landing field was almost deserted. Only a few patrolmen were visible and two maintenance techs went about their business in the distance. Alan sauntered across the field toward the gate to the main base, feeling very conspicuous under the illumination of the flood lamps.
It was dark, and would remain so for about twenty hours more, as long as the moon stayed in the shadow of its primary, a huge gas giant, now glowing redly overhead. The landing field was brightly lighted, however, and inside the glowing energy barrier ahead of him, the security building loomed, dark and forbidding. Alan paused by the gate, just outside the range of the camera, and considered.
The men monitoring the screens would see him when he entered unless he could somehow distract them. He needed some kind of diversion. Alan looked around. Somehow he had to keep their eyes off the gate for a few vital seconds.
One of the big lifters used in the repair of ships was parked not far away. Alan sauntered over to it and stopped in its shadow, the bulk of the machine concealing him from watching eyes on the field.
He concentrated. A finger of telekinetic energy reached out and an instant later the motor roared to life. The machine rumbled away across the field toward the hangars that housed the base's ships.
Alan strolled to the gate and paused, looking over his shoulder. If things went right, that should be enough. A runaway lifter would almost certainly cause sufficient disorder to keep the attention of the men monitoring the camera for the little time that Alan needed. He waited, watching.
The machine was crunching its way across the landing field. Within a very few minutes it would come into rather violent contact with some of the base's equipment -- if no one stopped it.
No one did. Three minutes later it ground into the wall of the hangar and right on through it, leaving shreds of itself behind. There were alarmed shouts and men came boiling out of the building. Smoke began to pour from the opening and something inside began to sputter and shoot out sparks. More alarmed shouts. There was a sudden, ear-shattering concussion that shook the ground and what few windows remained unbroken after the attack of the lifter burst violently outward, raining the compound with shards of flying plastic and metal fragments. Patrolmen and technicians converged on the scene of the disaster and a siren began to shriek deafeningly. A crowd of curious onlookers began to collect at a safe distance. A fire control squad appeared, scurrying around like ants at a picnic.
But Alan was no longer watching. Taking a deep breath, he strode boldly toward the gate, pausing just outside the camera's range. The sensation of watching eyes behind the camera was distinct to his clairvoyant sense. Letting clairvoyance guide his actions, he knew at exactly the instant that the attention of the distant observer faltered, shifting to the emergency on the field. Alan reached out with his telekinetic power and altered the focus of the camera's lens, blurring its view of the gate. Placing a hand on the identostamp machine, he sent a finger of mental energy through the solid metal. The barrier opened and he walked quietly through. The energy barrier closed smartly behind him and an instant later the camera lens quietly resumed its focus.
He stood still for a moment, once more outside the range of the security camera, probing with all his senses, but there was no indication that he had been noticed. Taking a deep breath, he turned and walked briskly toward the building, past a group of patrolmen, who were watching the hangar fire, up the steps and through the big double doors, trying to act as if he belonged. Two men passed him, heading toward the gate. They glanced perfunctorily at him and continued on. Alan smiled a little. There was a lot to be said for Mark's assertion that if you acted like you owned the place, people would think you did.
He stepped into the lobby and looked around. He had no idea, of course, which floor housed the interrogation rooms. Alan closed his eyes, concentrating. Yes; there had been a Jilectan here, and only a short time ago. He followed the faint trail toward the lift.
The Jil had gone into the one on the right. As luck would have it, the doors opened as he approached and three patrolmen emerged. They went by him without a glance. Alan entered the lift and the doors closed.
Now, which floor? Well, there was only one way to find out. He punched the indicators for every level and the lift started upward. As it opened on the second level, he leaned out. No, no sign of the Jil's trail here. He pulled back and proceeded upward again.
The third level produced nothing more, but on the fourth he could sense, faintly, the rapidly fading trail of the alien once more. Alan disembarked and looked around. Mark and Dannar had to be somewhere around here. He hoped they would find him quickly. He was feeling jumpy. Sooner or later, somebody was going to get curious and ask him for his security clearance, and then he would be in the soup.
A patrolman loomed up beside him. Alan stepped quickly aside and the man entered the lift. The doors closed.
Alan turned slowly and headed down the corridor in the direction the Jilectan had gone.
A sergeant passed him and Alan's heart jumped. Faint suspicion emanated from the other man's mind. Alan turned into a small side corridor, his scalp prickling.
"Just a minute, you." The sergeant appeared around the corner, his hand resting lightly on the butt of his blaster. "What's your business up here?"
Alan attempted to look confused. "I'm Strike Commander Griffen's valet. I'm looking for him."
"Whatcha want with him?" Alan would have recognized that accent anywhere. The man was from Shallock. "He's in that interrogation room right now, with Lord Valthzor. You don't wanna go in there."
"Yikes! No, I don't. I guess I'll have to wait," Alan said.
"Are you cleared?" the man asked.
"Cleared? Cleared for what?"
"To be here."
"Sure. How do you think I got through the gate? Gosh, you scared me. I was afraid I'd done something wrong."
The sergeant looked dubiously at him. "Lemme see your I.D."
Alan produced it. "Gosh, I hope I'm not in any trouble. The Commander sent me a message to bring his pills up. He's had a headache all day, and I got here as quick as I could. There was a lot of confusion going on out there. Some kind of accident in one of the hangars."
"Yeah; I saw." The patrolman was examining the I.D., his free hand still resting lightly on his blaster. If he'd just move it for an instant --
The man looked back at Alan. "Where's your security clearance?"
"On the back of the license, sir. That's where they always put the clearances for the valets."
The sergeant turned the card over. "I don't see it."
Alan leaned forward, acutely aware of the man's hand, still on the butt of his blaster. It's right there. See? It's kind of faded, but the machine let me through, all right."
"I don't see nothin'." The man glanced at Alan. "I'm gonna hafta notify Security." He pulled out his weapon. "Don't move."
The blaster squirmed suddenly beneath his fingers and leaped from his grasp to smack solidly into Alan's palm. "Freeze!"
The man did so, his hands held out rigid from his sides. Alan read comprehension in his mind, followed by a sudden shock of recognition.
"Don't bother calling for help," Alan said. "Your communicator isn't working. Walk ahead of me down the hall. If I'm caught, I'll take you with me."
The sergeant obeyed. "What are you going to do?"
"Stop," Alan said.
The sergeant did so. They had paused before a door and a quick check told him the room beyond was empty. He pushed the button beside it. The door was apparently unlocked, for it slid aside, revealing a small room with an interrogation chair in its center.
"Inside," Alan said.
The man obeyed and Alan closed the door behind them. "Sit down in the chair," he ordered.
The sergeant started to protest.
"Go on!" Alan snapped. "I'm not going to activate it. I just need you restrained for a while. Or would you rather I stunned you?"
The sergeant obeyed. Outside, there was a soft tap on the door. Alan stepped over to it and paused, extending a telepathic feeler. Mark and Dannar. He pushed the button and the door slid open. Two black and scarlet figures entered.
"What the devil --" Mark stared at him and then at the sergeant in the chair. "What's goin' on?"
"I got stopped for a security check," Alan said. He pressed the blaster's stunner setting and fired at the prisoner. "Strap him in, would you, Dan?"
The Arcturian grinned toothily and obeyed. Alan stuck the blaster into his belt. "Where's Kaley?"
"Zey took him into a room at ze end of ze hallway," Dannar told him. "Zree 'trols and ze Shil went in wiz him."
"How long has it been?" Alan asked.
"Only about ten minutes," Mark said. "We weren't expectin' you yet, but then the link hit me and I knew you must be in this neck o' the woods, so we headed straight here." He looked curiously at Alan. "The Base Commander got an emergency call that slowed things up. I don't suppose you know anythin' about that, do you?"
"Why yes," Alan said blandly. "One of the big lifting machines went crazy and crashed into the hangars. Can you take out the guards at the door?"
"Huh?" Mark looked confused at the abrupt change of subject. "Oh, the interrogation room. Sure, but how're you gonna get in? There's a Jil in there. He'll know somethin's funny as soon as the lock starts to move by itself. I don't wanna hafta count on bein' able to outshoot everybody in there."
"We could not," Dannar said. "Somebody would certainly sound ze alarm."
"He's just joking, Dan," Alan said absently. He looked around the room. "Is that a ventilator shaft up there?"
Linley glanced up at the grating on the wall. "Yeah; so what?"
"You're more familiar with these places than I am. This room has a ventilator. Would the interrogation room Kaley's in have one, too?"
Light was dawning on Mark's face. "Yeah, it should. Are you thinkin' what I think you're thinkin'?"
Alan nodded. "It's small, but I might be able to fit."
"I dunno," Mark said thoughtfully. "They're made that way on purpose. You might get stuck."
"Would this one connect with the one in the other room?"
Mark frowned. "It should. They're all connected with the main shaft. Once you find the main one, head left. But, look --"
"It iss worzz a try," Dannar said.
Linley stared up at the shaft and Alan watched his lips move as he made mental measurements. It was covered with a screen that was secured to the wall by rivets, and the opening was a good meter above his partner's head. At last, Mark sighed. "I guess you'll fit all right, but it'll be a tight squeeze. You sure you wanna try it?"
Alan nodded and pulled out his blaster again. He'd never be able to get it out of his holster once he was in the actual ventilator shaft.
"Okay, then let's not waste time. You'll hafta unhook the screen. Can you do it?"
"Sure." Alan grasped his partner's wrist and reached out with his mind. He hooked a finger of energy behind the screen and tugged. The rivets popped from the wall almost simultaneously and hit the floor with tiny "pings". The screen fell toward them. Mark caught it deftly and propped it against the wall.
As he did so, an alarm blared, making them all jump. Alan glanced at Mark. "What's that for?"
Mark shrugged. "Intruder alert. They mighta figured out you're here, or maybe one o' the bodies that we left behind on Corala has been found. Get movin'. We're runnin' outta time."
"I'm ready." Alan went to the wall, the blaster clutched in his left hand. The sergeant in the interrogation chair groaned. Mark glanced back and stunned him, and then he and Dannar caught Alan by the legs and propelled him upward. Alan caught the edge of the opening and wiggled into the shaft, wincing as he felt his uniform tear.
"Good luck, kid," Mark said.
"Thanks." Alan squirmed forward through the narrow passage, the blaster clutched before him.
Claustrophobia tugged at him as he wiggled into the enclosed space. It was pitch dark as he inched his way deeper into the vent, and he was being crushed from all sides. It became apparent within bare seconds that there was no way that he could look back and there was no question in his mind that the shaft was far too small even to consider trying to turn around. Alan gritted his teeth and scrunched ahead.
He jumped convulsively and banged his head on the wall above him as a sound echoed suddenly through the confined space. A scream -- the scream of a grown man in unbearable pain. Alan's breath caught and he felt something inside him clench into a hard knot. He hunched forward frantically as another scream echoed around him, tearing at his nerves.
His progress was a nightmare: a dream where it is desperately vital that the dreamer move and he finds that his muscles strain to the point of exhaustion with little result. Alan pushed himself on and on, his eyes searching ahead into the darkness.
Another scream, nearer this time. Then another.
Abruptly, the shaft came to an end and before him was a larger shaft, stretching in both directions.
Go left, Mark had said. Alan turned left, finding that he could move more rapidly now. Another shaft branched away to the right, a smaller one, leading, he was sure, to another interrogation room. Was it the right one?
Alan closed his eyes against the darkness. If he took the wrong direction, it meant the end for all of them. The larger tunnel would be roomy enough to back up but these smaller branches were not. He concentrated, trying to envision his commanding officer's face.
Another scream rang out and Alan had to suppress a cry of his own at its proximity. He was near -- very near.
But not this tunnel. He was sure of it. Alan crawled and hunched forward, searching the space ahead of him with his hands and the occasional peek between his shields. The Jil would be searching Kaley's mind for the slightest sign that his shields were weakening. It was just barely possible that the alien could detect him if he were anything but meticulously careful.
Another scream, and suddenly there was another opening, branching away to his left. Again he peeked, envisioning Kaley.
And abruptly, he saw him. He saw the General's bald head, square jaw and the sweat rolling in rivulets down his brow. He jerked convulsively and screamed again, the sound echoing down the ventilation shaft. This was it, then, the path to the interrogation room.
Alan turned into the narrow opening and once more wormed painfully forward. His uniform caught on something and tore as he tried to wiggle away from it. Something sharp and pointed dug into his ankle, but he hardly noticed. Before him was a pale square of light, beckoning from the darkness. It grew steadily larger as he hunched forward and now, near at hand, he could hear voices.
"Drop your mind shields, Terran."
No answer. Another scream rent the air, dwindling slowly to a moan of agony. Desperately, Alan wormed his way forward the last few meters and peered through the small, mesh-covered vent at the scene in the room below.
**********
tbc
