Cops and Robbers: 7/7
by Linda Garrick
Revised and edited by Nancy Smith
XIV
Alan struggled to emerge from the darkness around him. There was trouble. Even through his shields he sensed it. Somewhere nearby there was a jarring crash. Slowly, he opened his eyes.
Another crash, and then the crack of a blaster. Then another. The hum of stunbolts, the sounds coming too rapidly for his brain to sort out. Alan blinked, his vision beginning to clear.
The first thing he saw was the Jilectan. As his eyes focused, a blaster soared into view, landing lightly in the alien's left hand. In the other, a jeweled weapon of Jilectan design reposed, it's muzzle centered on a small man.
Alan turned his head, blinking away cobwebs, and found himself looking into the eyes of another, slightly larger man. The fellow was down and looked dazed but, as their eyes connected, comprehension returned to the other man's features. The Jilectan adjusted his jeweled weapon and methodically fired a stunbolt. The small man at whom it was aimed crumpled silently. The weapon swung toward the man on the floor.
Frantically Alan grabbed for the blaster with telekinesis, knowing that it wouldn't work. Jils were too smart, and too strong to disarm with telekinesis.
He felt the weapon beneath his mental fingers, and sensed the Jilectan's lightning reaction. The six-fingered hand tightened around the hilt, and the weapon started to swing in his direction.
Then amazingly, incredibly, the alien was doubling forward, his breath whooshing out in a surprised grunt. Alan grabbed for the blaster again, feeling it writhe in the Jilectan's loosened grasp. The Jilectan tried to recover, once again tightening his grip, and then screamed, clapping both hands to his groin. Alan reached telekinetically a third time and the blaster twisted from the being's grasp, leaped upward, and shot directly across the room toward him.
The Jilectan's face came up, twisted in pain, but the weapon in his other hand was lifting. The jeweled blaster smacked solidly into Alan's hands. Two simultaneous reports rent the air and beside Alan the rotting boards burst into flame. He rolled away and came to his knees, preparing to fire again.
But there was no need. The alien overlord lay dead on the bare floor, half his ribcage blown away. Alan sank back on his heels, gasping for breath.
"Holy space!" The other man was rising unsteadily to his feet, staring at the dead alien. Alan looked into the face of Tyler Brown and grinned shakily.
"Hi there."
"Holy space!" The man repeated. Moving with exaggerated care, he went over to the Jilectan, picked up the blaster from the floor, adjusted it, and fired at the two moaning figures on the floor. Then he turned back toward Alan, took a deep breath, and approached. "Are you all right, Westover?"
"Yes, thank you. You're Brown, aren't you?"
The man nodded. He looked very shaken, Alan noticed. "You just killed another Jil," he stated. "I never thought I'd live to see it."
Alan gave him his best smile. "I had help. Look, you better sit down."
"I'm fine. Holy Cat! I've never seen anything like that! You disarmed him and shot the Jil! You punched him silly at the same time! I can hardly believe it!"
Someone groaned. Brown glanced over and his expression hardened. "Dr. Pinhead. I forgot about you." He lifted the blaster, fingering it.
"Who is he?" Alan asked.
"Dr. Simons Pinhead," Brown said thinly. "The guy who nearly just got us all killed." He fingered the weapon, then flicked it to stun and fired. The doctor subsided.
A young woman emerged from a corner, staring at the dead alien. Brown spoke to her soothingly, though absently, and went past Alan to kneel beside the man the Jilectan had stunned. Someone groaned, and Alan saw Mark slumped face down on the floor, and just beginning to stir. He went to kneel beside him. "Mark?"
Linley gagged.
"One of the Jil's flunkeys stunned him," Brown informed him absently. "Ran, wake up. Are you okay?"
"Mark? Take it easy." Alan straightened up, looking around at the room's other occupants. The floor where the Jilectan's shot had struck was still smoking, and he went over to stamp it out. Beside the dying fire, a small figure stirred faintly. "Who's this? Oh, the Chancellor's daughter. She's a --!" He broke off, glancing briefly at the young woman.
"I know." Brown lowered Madison to the floor again. "We arrived just as the Jil operatives were trying to kidnap her. That's what all this was about. Randy found out about it. He's a psychic, and he accidentally read the Jil operative's mind."
"Oh." Alan went back to Mark, who was losing his supper on the floor. "Easy, there."
Linley was too miserable to answer. Madison stirred and groaned, and Brown bent over him again. "Ran?"
Mark finished throwing up. Alan helped him to sit up and handed him a handkerchief. "Here."
Mark took it, wiped his mouth and looked around. "You okay?" he croaked.
"Sure. Just a little confused. How did we get here?"
Linley's head jerked around. "The Jil...!"
"He's dead."
"Dead!" Linley took a deep breath. "You again?"
"Well, yeah."
"Who else?" Mark staggered to his feet. Alan gave him a hand, and turned to look at the dead alien.
"Holy hell!" Mark said suddenly.
"What?"
Linley was staring at the Jilectan. "That's Lord Agrinthvar -- Linthvar's brother!"
"I thought he might be."
Madison was groaning dismally, and Brown was supporting his shoulders solicitously. He glanced up at Mark. "You should have seen it! He punched the guy out and disarmed him, and then outdrew him."
"You did *what*?"
Alan cast Brown an odd glance. "I'll explain it later."
"Yeah, you'll have to. Well, I guess you've met everybody already? That's Yvonne, an' that's Inspector Brown, and the kid throwin' up is Randy Madison. That's Dr. Sonofabitch lyin' on the floor, an' that's Carol Wong, the cause o' the whole mess."
The Chancellor's daughter moaned softly. "Momma?" she whispered.
The nurse bent over her. "Take it easy, Carol."
Tyler glanced at the fireplace. "The fire's going out. You okay, Ran?"
Madison groaned, one hand pressed to his head. "Sure."
"Good. I'm going to go get some wood. Lie still. The headache'll pass."
"It better. I sure don't want to go through life like this." Madison groaned again. Tyler headed for the door.
"Wait a minute, Inspector," Alan said. A voice was speaking in his mind, and he felt the tension in his gut relaxing. Brown paused by the gaping door.
"What's the matter?"
"There's no need to get more wood."
"Why?"
Mark was watching him. "They comin' for us?"
"Yes."
Over the roar of the blizzard a faint sound reached them. Randy looked up, wincing slightly. "Someone's coming."
"I know."
"It's the Underground," Alan said.
The Chancellor's daughter pushed herself to one elbow and blinked sleepily at the group. "What on earth is going on?" she inquired.
**********
XV
Alan relaxed in the warm comfort of a real bed, luxuriating in the feel of clean sheets against his skin. He glanced at his chronometer. He'd been asleep around eight hours, and it had been close to twelve hours since the crawlers had arrived at the small Underground station. Patti Rivers, an Underground tracer whom he had never met before, had traced them to the little cabin and she and four other agents had brought them here.
The station was a large, white farmhouse some thirty kilometers from the abandoned shack where they had taken refuge. Alan, Mark, the two officers and the Chancellor's daughter, as well as the nurse, Yvonne Jennings, had all crowded into the little crawlers, and, with their escorts, had arrived here approximately an hour later. Tyler had adamantly insisted that the nurse accompany them. In the blizzard, she would never be able to tell where they were going. Alan had agreed. Leaving someone like her in a cold, nasty little place with a dead Jil, two wounded Jil flunkies, and the hostile doctor, had not seemed a good idea. They had led her blindfolded into the farmhouse and kept her there until the blizzard had abated some three hours later. Then, again blindfolded, she had been flown back to New York and dropped off before the police station, with firm instructions to report the incident at once, lest she risk the wrath of the Jils. This she had promised to do. Alan was still a little worried about her. Undoubtedly the aliens would question and probe her mind, and, with the demise of Agrinthvar involved, her sympathies might well mean her death. Alan had ordered that she be watched closely and without her knowledge by other agents until the danger was past. Tyler Brown had spent several hours with her while waiting for the storm to let up, and Alan had seen him kiss her when she departed. The action worried him even more, and he remembered uneasily his first crime against the Jils, and what had happened to his friend, Kurt McDougal in the aftermath of Alan's offense. He didn't want that to happen to Yvonne.
Dr. Friedrich, a psychic who resided at the station, entered the room. "Good morning, Colonel Westover. Did you sleep well?
"Yes, thank you."
"You needed it. Colonel Linley tells me you stayed up all night the night before, and then got that bump to boot. No concussion, though. You're all right. I checked you out while you were asleep."
Alan grinned. "My skull's getting thicker."
The doctor smiled. "Psychics always seem to get more bumps than the rest of the population. It's probably because of our size and temperament. We get involved easily, and then aren't strong enough to get out of the mess without getting banged up."
"Mark says that, too." Alan sat up. For a moment he felt dizzy. Then the sensation passed and he swung his legs over the side of the bed.
"When you get up, do it slowly, Colonel," the doctor told him.
Someone knocked, and Alan glanced up, sensing the unshielded aura of a psychic without. "Come in, Randy."
The door opened and Randy Madison entered, accompanied by Tyler Brown and Mark. His partner glanced at him critically. "How you doin', kid? You're lookin' a lot better."
"I'm fine." Alan glanced at the two cops, standing ill-at-ease beside the door. "Come on in."
The two men did so. The doctor went past them and paused at the door. "I've given him a clean bill of health, Colonel Linley. No gymnastics, and no aircar wrecks for a couple of days. He'll be fine. I'll order a tray sent in."
"Thanks, doctor," Alan said.
Dr. Friedrich went out. Mark sat down on the bed, motioning the two officers to approach. Tyler cleared his throat.
"Uh...Colonel Westover, we just wanted to thank you for saving our lives out there. If it wasn't for you...and Colonel Linley --"
Alan waved aside the speech. "Don't mention it. I really didn't do that much."
Randy's eyes widened. "Didn't do all that much? You disabled that doctor, disarmed him, then punched out the Jil and shot him, too! And besides that, you were just coming to after being knocked out!"
Alan shook his head carefully. "I didn't disarm the doctor. That happened before I woke up.'
"But --"
"And I didn't punch out the Jil."
"Well, somebody did," Brown said. "And it must have been you. Randy was unconscious, and there weren't any other psychics in the room -- except the Chancellor's daughter, and she was still out cold."
"I know," Alan said. "But I didn't punch him, and I didn't disarm the doctor. All I did was disarm the Jil -- after someone else punched him and loosened his hold on the blaster. I wouldn't have had a chance if someone else hadn't helped me."
Silence.
"Maybe the Chancellor's daughter was already awake," Randy suggested doubtfully.
"I don't think so," Alan said.
"But you do know who it was, don't'cha," Mark said, watching him. "I know that look. You've figured it out."
"Yes," Alan said. "And so have you."
Linley just laughed. He was used to Alan picking up his thoughts accidentally.
"It's pretty obvious," he said.
Tyler's face darkened. "Well, it isn't obvious to me."
Randy was looking at Mark. Linley glanced quickly at him, and Alan felt his partner's shields snap up. He scowled at Madison. "That's against regs, son. It'll getcha a court-martial if you do it after you're sworn in."
Randy gulped. "Sorry, sir. I didn't think you'd mind. He did it."
"Alan's different."
"Sorry," Randy repeated.
"That's okay. Just don't do it again. Didja see what you was lookin' for?"
Randy nodded incredulously. "Ty? Ty's not a psychic."
"Yes he is," Alan said. "At least, I think he is. There's no other explanation."
Tyler's jaw fell. "Me?"
"I think so. You have natural shielding, though, which makes it impossible to be sure. It blocks out all psychic energy from your mind, as well as blocking any psychic who tries to read you. But there's really no other explanation."
"But...it can't be! I didn't feel a thing!"
"That's because your powers worked instinctively," Alan told him. "Telekinetics do that all the time. I did it myself even before I knew I was a psychic. I never missed when I threw something at the trash, for instance. I thought I was just a real good shot."
"Ty never misses, either," Randy said thoughtfully. "He's famous throughout the whole precinct."
Tyler was frowning. "But you're not sure?"
Alan glanced at Mark. "Well, no. I'd need to go through your shielding to be absolutely positive."
"Can you do that?"
"Maybe."
Linley grinned at him, resting a hand on his arm. "Go ahead," he said casually. "I wanna know, too."
"I don't think you can," Randy said. "I tried to read him, and I couldn't do it."
"You might be right," Alan said. He looked at Brown. "Do you want me to try?"
Tyler hesitated. "How much will you see?"
"I won't go any deeper than necessary...if I can get through at all."
"Will it hurt him?" Randy asked.
"It shouldn't."
Tyler looked uneasy. "Well, I want to know for sure, and if this is the only way..." He sighed. "All right, go ahead. What do I do?"
"Nothing. Just sit down." Alan patted the edge of the bed. "Relax."
Brown obeyed, looking nervous. Alan smiled. "Don't worry. I won't see anything in your mind that I haven't seen in a hundred others."
Some of the tension went out of the man. "I suppose not. Just keep what you see to yourself, okay?"
"I promise," Alan said. He closed his eyes and concentrated, feeling the free flow of energy from his living power pack beside him.
At first he didn't think he would be able to do it. He couldn't even feel the shielding, and only knew it was there because he could sense no thoughts. Could Tyler be trained to bring thoughts above those powerful natural shields? Such an ability would make him a valuable member of their organization.
Energy from Mark poured through him as he worked. He concentrated fiercely, and slowly became aware of the shields. They were hard and resistant as plates of armor before his probe. For a second he paused, feeling them tighten inexorably as Tyler automatically resisted the invasion.
"Relax," he said gently. "You're fighting me."
Tyler tried to obey with marginal success. "Sorry," he muttered.
"It's all right." Alan strengthened the probe again, drawing more power from Mark. He heard Linley swear softly.
At last he sensed, rather than felt, a rift in the shielding -- not much of one, but maybe it could be deepened. He pushed forward hard, a needle of telepathic power attempting to pierce through the tiny weak spot in the barrier around Tyler Brown's mind, and heard Brown's exclamation of surprise. Alan gritted his teeth and pushed again with all his strength.
Suddenly the rift parted and he was through. Powerful psychic energy met his probe, fully functional in spite of the natural shielding, but of a nature which he had never encountered before. Then pain lanced through his mind, and he heard Tyler yell. The pain was emanating from the other man, though it was being transmitted directly to Alan through his probe. Faintly he heard Randy also cry out, and Linley swearing without restraint.
He withdrew the probe and rapidly as he could, feeling Brown's shields snap shut behind him. Mark's hands gripped his shoulders. "Easy, kid! Deep breaths."
"Ty?" Alan located the Inspector. The man was hunched on the bed, his face buried in his hands. Randy bent over him, hand clutching his arm.
"Ty! Are you all right?" His eyes met Alan's, hostile and furious. "You said it wouldn't hurt him!"
"It ain't supposed to!" Mark protested. "Most people don't even know it's bein' done!"
Alan bent over Brown, feeling guilty. "Inspector, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to hurt you. I didn't realize..." He touched the man's shoulder, then spoke to Mark. "Get Doctor Friedrich, Mark."
"I'm all right." Tyler drew his hands down as Mark started for the door. "The pain's letting up."
"Mark, get the doctor!" Alan ordered again.
Linley went out, and returned a moment later with Doctor Friedrich. The man sat down beside Brown, running a scanner across his face. He frowned.
"Blood pressure 190/110, pulse 140?" He glanced up at Alan. "What happened?"
"Inspector Brown's a psychic with natural shielding," Alan replied guiltily. "I used Mark to go through his shields. It hurt him as I did it. I got out fast when I realized what was happening." He swallowed. "I'm sorry, Ty. I've never had that happen before. Are you feeling better?"
"Yeah." Brown still sounded shaken. "Headache's easing up. I feel a bit dizzy."
"Blood pressure's dropping now," the doctor said. "Pulse rate, too. I think he'll be okay."
Mark rubbed his temple. "Man! You ain't never tapped me like that before, kid. I don't think I got nothin' left."
"What?" Randy said blankly.
"I'll explain later." Alan said.
Brown managed a weak grin. "Well, I guess I'm a psychic, huh?"
"Yes," Alan said. "Definitely."
"And I can feel my shields now. I sure knew it when you went through them. Felt like somebody was sticking a knife through my brain."
"I know," Alan said. "I was inside your mind, and I felt it, too."
"So did I," Mark said in a low voice.
"Blood pressure's stabilizing," the doctor said. "He's okay, but I'd certainly recommend no more probes on the Inspector except possibly under deep sedation. I think the pain was caused by him fighting the probe -- rather like tensing a muscle before receiving an injection, but much more extreme." He went to the door. "Call me if you need me."
"Thanks, doctor," Alan said.
The man went out. Alan turned back to Brown. "I apologize, Ty. I've never had that happen before."
Brown interrupted him. "You're forgiven, Colonel Westover. You don't have to keep apologizing. So I'm a psychic, huh? What powers do I have?"
Alan thought back. "I really didn't have time for a close look. You're mind is quite unusual for a Terran psychic, and I think you only have a very select number of talents. I detected no telepathy at all, but, I think, a very weak power of empathy. You must have one or the other, or you wouldn't be able to link with a partner, and I sure didn't detect any telepathy."
"A partner?" Tyler said blankly.
"Randy. You're linked with him. And before your wife was killed, I think you were linked with her."
"It figures," Mark said. "Not too many people would do what you've done for Madison, but any psychic partner would. Psychic partners'll go to their deaths for each other. Besides, Randy felt it when Alan went through your shields."
"But how can we link if I'm shielded?"
"Because you control the shield," Alan said. "You can work through it, even if no one else can, and even if you don't know how you do it. It's all unconscious, of course, which is why Randy didn't know you were a psychic."
"I suspected it, though," Madison said smugly. "He always seemed to know when I was in trouble."
"Not surprising." Alan smiled at Brown. "And as for other powers, I didn't detect any, except one. Of course, there may be others I didn't see. I was a bit distracted."
"What did you see?"
"Telekinesis, of course. Very strong telekinesis. You're the one who disarmed the doctor and punched the Jil out so I could snatch his blaster. Very interesting. Most Terrans are more versatile, but then, you have a very unique mind, anyway, with that shielding. Your empathy is weak -- just enough to form that link, I'd guess, but your telekinetic energies are very intense -- the strongest I've ever felt in any Terran psychic."
Tyler looked pleased. "Hear that?"
Randy was grinning proudly. "I sure did." He started to laugh. "Hey! I just thought of something!"
"What?"
"What do you think Captain McGarffey would say if we told him one of his men had socked a Jil noble in the gut?"
"Not to mention somewhere even more delicate," Alan murmured.
Brown joined in his partner's laughter, then stopped, looking appalled. "Holy cat! I'd get fired!"
Mark slapped him on the back, nearly knocking him down. "You *are* fired, Ty. Looks to me like you're gonna need another job. I got a position for you, too -- all waitin' an' ready. Think you can handle it?"
Tyler chuckled. "Why not? Will I still be an Inspector?"
"Nope. You get a promotion to lieutenant. Every psychic who joins the Underground is commissioned as a second lieutenant. It's military, of course, not police."
"Of course." Tyler grinned and stood up. "What I can't understand is how I used my powers all that time without even knowing it."
"That happens a lot," Alan said. "It usually only gets dramatic like that in an emergency."
"Yeah, I can see that."
Mark glanced at his chronometer. "Our ship'll be leavin' in about an hour. C'mon, I'll help you get your stuff together."
They emerged from the room twenty minutes later and headed for the kitchen. Patti Rivers, C.O. of the station, looked up and smiled at them. "Lunch is almost ready. I was going to send a tray, but I guess you look well enough to eat in the dining room. Want something before you take off?"
"Sure," Alan said. "I'm starved." He looked at the Chancellor's daughter, who was seated at the table, a cup of hot cocoa cradled between her hands. She was a pretty girl, with long, dark hair, and faintly almond eyes, startlingly blue in spite of her Asian features. She smiled, looking a little shy.
"Hello."
"Hello," Randy said. "Feeling okay now?"
"Sure. Major Rivers has just been explaining what happened. I guess I have you and Inspector Brown to thank for saving me from the Jils."
Randy gave her his charming smile. "No problem, Carol. We were glad to help."
The girl frowned. "Major Rivers says I'm a psychic. How could I be? Neither of my parents are psychics. I thought it was an inherited thing."
"It is," Alan said uncomfortably. "Are you sure neither of your parents are?"
"Well, no, I'm not," the girl admitted. "But aren't all psychics supposed to be sort of small? I mean, that's what I've heard, and it seems to be so if the people in this room are any indication. You're all psychics, aren't you...except for Colonel Linley and Inspector Brown."
"Inspector Brown is, too," Madison said.
"Oh. Well, he's no giant, is he?" She laughed a little nervously. "But both my parents are. Dad's close to two meters, and Mom comes past his shoulder." She looked upset. "You don't suppose my mom...no! She wouldn't! She just wouldn't! She loves Dad too much! She'd never do anything like that..." The girl paused, flushing bright pink.
"You're the spittin' image o' your dad, sweetie," Mark said kindly. "Take it easy."
"But...how did I become a psychic, then?"
"Don't worry about it," Alan advised. "It happened, and the Jils somehow spotted you. They blew it. We caught 'em with their fingers in the cookie jar."
The girl dimpled at him. "I've never been called a cookie before."
"Not a bad name for you, though." Mark winked at her and seated himself at the table. The autowaiter approached and placed a casserole before them.
"We've notified your parents," Major Rivers told her. "Secretly, of course. They know you're safe, and they also know you won't be coming home soon, although we didn't tell them the whole truth. No need to confirm any suspicions."
Carol looked unhappy. "I'd sure like to say something to them before I go."
Alan glanced at Mark. "What do you think?"
"I think," Linley said, "that the Underground probably better contact Chancellor Wong soon an' explain personally what happened to their little girl. An' I also think it'd be a good idea to check out why two apparently normal non-psychics turned out a psychic daughter. Seems to me that's happened before once or twice, an' there's only one possible explanation."
Alan nodded slowly. "Chancellor Wong, or Mrs. Wong..."
Major Rivers whistled softly. "Could be. And Carol's got two good-sized siblings, you know."
"What are you talking about?" Carol asked in bewilderment.
"An' I also think," Mark said, "that it wouldn't do any harm t'let li'l Carol here say hi to her folks before we go. She can even do it from the ship if she likes. Your dad got a private line, cookie?"
She nodded. "Of course."
"Then that's what we'll do." He snorted suddenly. "Y'know, I'll bet the Jils are wrackin' their brains about this. They know psychic powers are inherited, an' they probably also know, as Carol says, that neither o' her parents are psychics." Mark took a hearty bite of the casserole and chased it down with a swallow of wine. "Boy, I'll bet they're royally ticked off! They had a perfect little scheme worked out to check on li'l cookie here, an' a Terran psychic had to stick his nose in an' throw a spanner in the works." He grinned wickedly. "I'll betcha they're pretty upset with their operative who let the cat outta the bag. Sure wish it could'a been Wendlemere!"
Randy's eyes widened. "It *was* Wendlemere!"
"Huh?"
"That was the Jil operative's name. You know him?"
"We sure do," Alan said. "We met him years ago in Luna City."
"Well, well," Mark said. "Let's hope Linthvar gives him his just desserts."
"He probably will," Alan said, composedly. "If I were Wendlemere, I'd defect to the Underground at this point."
Mark made a gagging noise. "Damn! I hope not! That guy's a rat studyin' to be a trenchcrawler!"
"He won't," Alan said airily. "Guys like him just don't do things like that. Only pure hearted, noble, kindly souls defect to the Underground."
Mark took a bite of casserole. "Yup," he said.
The End
