Two Giants For David -- 11/11
by Nancy Smith and Linda Garrick
His arm hurt. Slowly, Mark swam back to consciousness, aware that a good deal of time had passed. He was lying on a soft surface, and above him was a nondescript, cream-colored ceiling. The room was quiet and across from him a window had been opened, letting in the early morning sunlight. He frowned, trying to sort out the real from the dreams. Where was he? How had he arrived here? Could this be Corala? Were they letting him recuperate from the interrogations before they put on the big show? Mark turned his head and closed his eyes as the room swam unpleasantly.
After a few minutes the dizziness subsided and he opened his eyes again. A figure was seated in an armchair beside him, his head cushioned on one palm. Mark stared at him, blinking. That was Alan! It must be! Then that last dream hadn't been a dream at all. Alan was here. Now all he needed to know was where here was.
He turned his head again. The room seemed familiar. It looked like a hospital room back at the Lavirra base -- but that couldn't be. They had been on the "Patton", on their way to Corala.
He looked at Alan again, studying his partner's sleeping face intently. A faint shadow of dark beard showed on his chin and he wore a white, slightly soiled maintenance jumpsuit. Could this be another dream? Mark considered that with a sinking feeling. If it was a dream, he didn't want to wake up -- ever.
Alan's elbow slipped from the chair arm and he nearly fell forward out of the seat. Green eyes flew open, focusing instantly on Mark.
""You're awake! How do you feel?"
Linley stared at him. "It *is* you!"
Alan nodded. "Yes, of course. Don't you remember?"
"Sort of. Thought I was dreamin'." Mark closed his eyes in relief.
"It's real," Alan said. "I'm really here, and we're in the infirmary on the Lavirra base."
Linley blinked at him, at last believing what his partner said. A lump rose in his throat. He was safe. He had been rescued, somehow, and there would be no more interrogations and no public execution -- not this time, anyway. He swallowed with difficulty, looking up at his partner's youthful face. "Holy hell -- how'd you do it?"
"Do what?"
"How'd you get me off that ship all by yourself?"
"I didn't do it all by myself," Alan said. "Kurt McDougal, my old bunkmate from TSA, was on board. He recognized me and offered to help."
Mark closed his eyes. "I shoulda known you'd enlist somebody. What went wrong? Couldn't you talk the Strike Commander into it this time?"
Alan's smile vanished. "Strike Commander Foxe is dead."
"Huh?" Mark gaped at him. "What happened?"
"He walked in while Kurt and I were getting you out. I didn't waste time setting the blaster on stun."
"Halthzor's hangnails! Don'tcha know that guy's reputation? He's one of the sharpest in the business!"
"Was," Alan said. "I didn't feel like being nice -- not after what he did to you."
Mark stared at him. "Thanks," he said finally. "It's probably a good thing, anyway. He'd figured out too much about me -- our link, that is. At least now he won't be able to pass it along to his bosses."
Alan patted his shoulder. "Don't try to talk too much right now. You've been pretty sick. They overdosed you on sweetgrass."
"Is that what happened?" Mark frowned, trying to dredge up the memory. "That's weird. I heard Foxe tell the doc to give me a small dose. Guess the guy screwed up, huh?"
"Sort of," Alan said vaguely. "Try to go back to sleep, Mark. Matt said it's important."
Linley grimaced. "I always wondered why the poor devils screamed. Now I know...Holy hell!" A thought occurred to him and he tried to lever himself up.
A buzzing filled the air and he felt nausea wash over him. The room greyed out.
"What's the matter?" He heard Alan's voice, sounding as if it came from a great distance. "Matt! Come here quick!"
There was the sound of footsteps and he heard Matt Philips' voice. "What's the matter?"
"I don't know!" Alan's voice sounded very far away and very scared. Mark lay still, feeling as if the bed was floating through the air with him. A hand grasped his wrist and he heard a murmur of conversation in the background. Philips voice spoke.
"Mark, can you hear me?"
Linley opened his eyes with an effort. Matt Philips' face seemed to be floating over his. Alan was there, and Lorie Evans as well.
"Sorry about that." Mark tried to push away the queasiness. "I'm okay."
"You lie still," Philips said. "No acrobatics for a few days yet. We just barely pulled you through this time. Next time we might not be so lucky. I want you to go back to sleep now. Understand?"
"In a minute, Doc." Mark turned frantically to Alan. "Kid, I kept my mouth shut durin' all the heavy-handed stuff but after the sweetgrass hit me I don't remember nothin'! I coulda told 'em everythin' -- the location of this base, our agents' names, an a thousand other things --"
Alan was shaking his head. "You didn't."
"How do you *know*? Holy hell! If I --"
"I'm sure. I was in contact with you when they gave it. You passed out within moments."
Linley stared at him, relieved. "You're sure?"
"I'm sure."
"So that *was* you. Since when have you been able to do that? You never could before."
"I had to," Alan said.
"Foxe thought you killed Zimmerman 'cause I told you about him. Did you?"
"No." Alan looked grim. "He saw me blow up the battlecruiser's repulsers and chased me. We had a short meeting in the gym."
"Oh," Mark said. "Well, thanks anyhow. He's one guy the Sector can do without."
"Yeah," Alan said.
"The Patrol definitely came out on the losing end this time," Matt Philips said quietly. "The last I heard they were still tallying up their losses. They won't forget what capturing Mark cost them for quite a while."
"I guess not," Mark said, looking at his partner with a note of new respect.
"I didn't have a choice," Alan said.
"I guess so." Mark swallowed. "Can I have a drink of water, Matt? I'm awful dry."
Philips looked doubtful. "You may bring it back up."
"Ah, I won't. I feel fine."
"Well, you aren't fine." Matt nodded at Alan. "Give him a little, but go real easy."
"I'm all right," Mark said.
Alan poured a cup of water and lifted his shoulders. Mark took a sip and gasped.
The liquid had barely touched his stomach when he felt nausea wash over him. He choked and began to gag. Alan said something he couldn't hear. Mark heaved dryly, for what seemed an endless time, and then half fell back onto the pillows, gasping. Someone wiped his mouth and he felt the rush of oxygen across his face.
"Breathe deeply, Mark." It was Alan's voice, and the sound calmed him as it always did. Mark obeyed, and the nausea slowly subsided. The room swam back into focus.
They were all looking down at him, and Philips was scowling.
"Better now?" Alan asked.
He nodded feebly, unable to answer. Alan turned to the doctor. "What's wrong with him, Matt?"
Philips scowl deepened. "Blasted sweetgrass. Rips the hell out of the Terran nervous system -- and most of the other systems in the body. You rest now, Mark, and don't try to take anything else by mouth for a while. I'll increase your intravenous intake so you won't feel so thirsty."
"Okay," Mark croaked. It was all he could manage for the moment.
"I want him to sleep," the doctor said to Alan. "I'd rather not give him a sedative, but if he doesn't calm down I will."
"It won't be necessary," Alan said firmly.
"Okay. Call me if you need me." Matt went out. Lorie did something to the machine encasing Mark's I.V. bag and then also departed.
Linley looked at Alan. "Relax, kid," he croaked. "I'm fine."
"I know," Alan said. "But you're sort of sleepy too, aren't you?"
"Yeah, sorta." Vaguely, Mark was aware that Alan was using his empathic talents to calm and soothe him. It didn't matter. The boy was right. He was awfully tired.
Alan was speaking again, telling him some sort of tale about Terra. The words were hypnotic and, dimly, Mark realized that he was being told a bedtime story, Alan Westover style. It worked very well. Slowly the room dimmed out again and Alan's voice faded into the distance.
14
It was late evening when Mark woke again. The room was silent, and the faint rose colors of sunset were shining on the cream-colored walls. He frowned. How much time had passed? The last he remembered, it had been early morning.
He lay still for a few moments, marveling at the lack of pain, and suddenly aware of hunger. He turned his head.
Alan was still sitting beside him, leaning back in his armchair and dozing, but he opened his eyes as Mark stirred.
"Hi, Mark!" He glanced at his chronometer and gave a satisfied nod. "Good. You slept fourteen hours. How do you feel?"
"Great." Mark flexed his shoulders. "You tell a terrific bedtime story, by the way. Put me right to sleep."
Alan shrugged. "I was worried sick about you."
"Yeah, I know, but you can stop worryin' now. I feel a lot better." He glanced toward the window again. "How long you been sittin' there?"
"About three days."
"Holy space!" Mark started to sit up but before he could even make it to his elbow, Alan was upon him, holding him back firmly.
"It's okay. I didn't want to leave and they didn't make me. Don't worry, okay? I slept some, and they brought me trays. Matt came in about six hours ago, checked you over and told me all danger was past." Alan grinned a little and settled back into his chair again. "It was a lot easier to sleep after that."
"Yeah." Mark surveyed his partner's clothing curiously. "What're you wearin', anyway?"
"Huh?" Alan glanced down at himself. "This is a maintenance suit from the 'Patton'."
"Looks kinda small. Who'd you mug? A midget?"
"A girl," Alan said. "There wasn't much choice, really. Kurt got the other guy's outfit. He'd never have been able to squeeze into this one."
"Was she pretty?" Mark inquired with interest.
"I didn't notice," Alan said. "Well -- yes, now that you mention it. She was." He flexed his shoulders. "Too bad she wasn't a little stouter, though."
"I guess so." Mark figuratively shook his head. It sounded as if there was a lot about what had occurred that Alan wasn't telling him. He'd get it out of the boy sooner or later. Whatever had happened, it was obvious that he had underestimated his partner again. In spite of the odds, Alan had confronted the situation and conquered it. No wonder the Jils were scared of Terran psychics.
"I'd like to meet your friend," he said. "Kurt?"
Alan nodded. "Kurt McDougal. You'll like him."
"I already do. Why'd he decide to offer his services, though?" He snorted. "That's a stupid question, ain't it? You could charm the pants off the Fleet Commander if you put your mind to it."
Alan shook his head. "Kurt was my bunkmate at TSA. After I killed Salthvor, the Jils pulled him in and one of Salthvor's kin read him." He made a face. "I guess he didn't like what he saw. I can't really talk about it, but it must have been pretty awful."
Linley nodded, comprehending fully. "I can guess. When the Jil finished with him, he turned your friend over to the 'trols. They worked him over an' then left him in a gutter somewhere, pumped full o' booze an' drugs, or somethin' like that."
"Pretty much. How'd you know?"
"Seen it before, with variations. I'm sorta surprised he's still alive, though. For an insult like that, I'da expected the Jil to have your friend killed."
"I think he tried," Alan said soberly. "They dosed him with dream dust. It took him a while to get back the use of his left leg, and he still walks with a slight limp." He paused. "I feel bad about it. We should probably have asked the Underground to watch after him."
Linley shook his head. "It was probably all over by the time they found us. They wouldn'ta wasted any time draggin' him in."
Alan nodded and glanced toward the door. Mark followed his gaze. "Someone comin'?"
"Violet."
Mark grimaced. "Psychic nurses make me squirm. Where's Lorie?"
"She went off duty a while ago. Don't worry. Violet's a nice girl. She won't try to read you, especially if I'm here."
"I ain't worried about that. Female psychics don't hafta read you to know what you're thinkin'."
"Huh?" Alan looked puzzled a moment and then grinned. "Oh, I see what you mean. Gosh, Mark, I didn't realize you had anything going with her! Her boyfriend's a psychic, you know."
"Yeah, I know, an' I don't have anythin' goin' with her. But I can't help lookin', any more'n you can. I don't mess around with attached women. Gets you in trouble."
The door opened and a small, generously curved young woman entered. She strode briskly over to the bed and leaned across Linley to check the device supporting the fluid bag. Linley's eyes flicked toward her bust line before he could help himself and he saw Alan smile.
The nurse also smiled, straightening up. "Good evening, Major Linley. Nice to have you with us again."
"Thanks, honey."
"How are you feeling?"
"Fine. Get this blasted needle outta me, willya?"
"It's not a needle," she informed him. "It's a small, flexible tube. Are you hungry?"
"Famished. Where's the chow?"
The nurse turned to Alan. "Doctor Philips says he can eat. Do you want to feed him, Alan?"
"Sure," Alan said.
"I can feed m'self," Mark said.
"Doctor's orders, Major." Violet went out.
Alan smiled. "I don't mind."
"Well, I mind! I don't need all this coddlin'! It's enough t'make a well man sick!"
Alan looked worried. "Mark, please do as they say. You really were awfully sick. I was scared you were going to die, and even Matt wasn't sure he could pull you through."
Mark felt his resolution melt, as it always did when Alan spoke like that. "Okay," he said reluctantly. "I'll grit my teeth and bear it."
"Good," Alan said. "I'll try not to push it, but --"
"Take it easy," Mark said, uncomfortably. "I'm okay now, an' it all worked out. By the way, didn't the Underground send anybody with you to help? How come you were all by yourself?" He stopped, as Alan's expression changed. "What's wrong?"
"Nothing," Alan said. He turned his head. "Here comes Violet again."
The door slid aside and the nurse reappeared. "Here you go, Major. Keep that down and you can have something more solid."
Mark stared at the tea, clear broth and brightly tinted gelatin. "What the hell's this? I thoughtcha said I was gonna get somethin' to *eat*!"
"You make a wonderful patient, Mark," Alan said in an undertone.
"Doctor Philips' orders," Violet said.
"You can tell Matt to pour that damned tea in his ear! I'm hungry!"
The nurse's expression didn't change. "Here, Alan." She handed him a spoon. "I'd eat it if I were you, Major Linley. I can't get rid of the I.V. until you do, and if you still haven't eaten anything by the time that one's out, I'll have to hang another one." She surveyed the container critically. "It's getting pretty low, too."
Mark cussed under his breath.
"Come on, Mark," Alan said. "The broth doesn't look so bad."
The nurse's face relaxed and she leaned down to kiss Mark on the forehead. "Welcome home, Major Linley."
"Thanks," Mark growled.
The nurse straightened up and, to Linley's surprise, kissed Alan as well. "We're all with you, Alan," she said. "I hope you know that."
Alan nodded. "Yeah. I know."
Violet turned and went out.
Mark stared after her, more than a little puzzled. "What the devil did she mean by that?"
"Here." Alan was offering him a brimming spoonful of broth. Linley grimaced and opened his mouth.
"Yuk. Oh well, better'n nothin', I guess."
"Still feeling okay?"
"Fine. Hurry up -- the bag's about out."
Alan shoveled in a mouthful of gelatin. Mark swallowed and made a face.
His partner was watching him anxiously. "How's the stomach?"
"Okay. Hurry up an' let's get this over with."
Alan obeyed, spooning in the food as fast as Mark could swallow. "Want some tea?"
"I hate tea."
"I know." Alan glanced furtively at the door and then tipped up the cup, gulping the liquid down. "There. She'll never know the difference."
"Thanks. Any more o' that red stuff left?"
"One more bite. Here she comes." Alan shoved the last spoonful into his partner's mouth. "Get your shields up. You're radiating guilt."
Mark obeyed. "Better get yours up, too. You look like the cat that swallowed the canary."
The door opened and the nurse entered. Alan looked around. "He did great, Violet."
She glanced at the empty tray. "How much of it did you eat for him?"
Alan looked guiltier than before. "Why Violet, how could you think --"
"'Fess up, Major."
"Just the tea," Alan said meekly. "Mark hates tea."
The machine beside them voiced a shrill bleep, and a red light on its side began to blink. Mark looked at it and then at the nurse. "The bag's dry. C'mon, sweetie, have a heart."
Violet appeared to consider and then laughed softly and removed the tube. "All right, Mark, you're on your own. Keep that food down."
"What food?" Mark inquired. "I ain't seen any food yet."
The nurse dimpled, picked up the tray and turned. "See you later, Major Linley."
"Bye, honey." Mark turned toward Alan, starting to ask his partner to raise the head of the bed but Alan was already doing so. "Thanks, kid."
"You're welcome."
"Now, about what we were discussin' earlier."
Alan looked uneasy. "Maybe you'd better rest for a while."
"I ain't tired. What the hell's wrong?"
Alan stiffened suddenly. "Kaley's coming."
"Yeah?" Mark sat up straighter, trying to smooth down his hair with his good hand. "Damn! I probably look like hell, too."
"Never mind," Alan said, and at the tone of his voice Mark turned to stare at him in astonishment. Alan's face had hardened and he suddenly looked years older. An instant later, the door slid aside and Kaley entered.
Alan got to his feet, turning to face his commanding officer. Linley's puzzlement deepened as he surveyed the two. Alan looked angry, and tightly controlled. Kaley's expression was that of a man who is about to swallow medicine that he doesn't like. There was a long, strained silence.
Then the General spoke, turning his gaze on Mark as he did so. "How are you feeling, Major?"
"Fine, sir. Thank you." Mark was still watching Alan.
Kaley cleared his throat and turned toward Alan again. "You did an exceptional job, Major Westover. I've had Lieutenant McDougal's report."
Alan didn't answer, and again the silence lengthened. Kaley cleared his throat uncomfortably. "I see you're angry with me, Major."
Alan inclined his head slightly. He still didn't speak.
"You understand the reasons I issued the order, don't you."
"Yes," Alan said.
"But it makes no difference?"
"None at all."
"I see." Kaley compressed his lips, regarding Alan worriedly. "Major, I've learned something about psychics since this all started. Major Burke and I spoke at length about the nature of psychic partnership on the evening you returned, and I realize I may have made a mistake. But please understand, I didn't make the decision lightly. It isn't easy to command psychics when I am not a psychic, myself. I didn't realize you would react so violently to your confinement, nor did I expect the reception that I received from the other psychics. I believe I understand, now, but at the time I didn't."
"I'm glad of that, at least," Alan said acidly.
Kaley's face turned a little pink. "Please understand, Major, that I made my decision with the good of the Underground in mind. You're an excellent officer, not to mention the most gifted psychic we have ever found. To lose you would weaken our ranks considerably.
"So," Alan said, "what you're saying is that my partner is expendable and I'm not. Is that it?"
Kaley cleared his throat, his eyes wavering. "Not exactly."
Mark stared at his partner. Kaley must, somehow, have tried to prevent Alan from attempting a rescue. "Kid, what's this all about? What did the General do?"
"He ordered me restrained after you were captured," Alan said, sounding dangerously mild. "When I reached the Underground station in Boston, I was overpowered and drugged. When I woke I discovered I was tied down and guarded. I was informed that if I tried to escape, I'd be drugged again."
Mark's gaze went from Alan, to Kaley and back. "Who the devil was the idiot that carried out that order?"
Kaley opened his mouth to speak but Alan cut him off. "Phil Connors."
Mark swore under his breath. "I should have known."
Alan was still facing the General, and his body language radiated hostility. "Mark is my partner, General, and Major Burke will tell you that our link is as solid as that of any psychic Team on this station, and more so than many. When Mark was taken I headed for Boston, expecting help. I didn't get it."
"Major, I understand your feelings of resentment, but --"
"*Do* you?" Alan interrupted. "You're not a psychic, and you haven't the slightest idea what it means to be a psychic's partner. How could you possibly think that you could force me to obey you and still keep my loyalty? In an organization like this one, you *must* have your members' willing cooperation, or you've got nothing!"
"Major Westover --"
Alan cut him off. "I was held prisoner by my own people! I knew what was in store for Mark and I couldn't do *anything*! If Dr. Mishamoto hadn't helped me, I'd still be lying there and Mark would either be dead or undergoing more interrogation. I almost killed Connors when I finally got free. I was within a hair's breadth of not bothering to set the blaster on stun when I fired the second time, and I'd just about made up my mind to kill *you*!"
Kaley's face was scarlet. "Major Westover --"
Alan didn't even pause. "A psychic link is the closest possible tie between two people. Mark is part of me, and to me he's the most important part! It's always the first instinct of a psychic to protect his partner, no matter who or what stands in the way, and you tried to keep me from doing that! If Mark hadn't been so sick, and if I hadn't been responsible for Lieutenant McDougal's welfare, I wouldn't have come back at all, and I'm still not sure I'm going to stay. I won't work for someone I can't trust, and you showed me when the chips were down just how far I can trust *you*! You're no better than the Jilectans! At least with them, I *know* where I stand!"
Kaley's flush became deeper but he didn't speak. Mark looked from his superior officer to his partner, feeling, in spite of the grim events being related, a touch of wry amusement. Kaley had badly underestimated Alan -- a fault committed by many people, including, at one time, Mark, himself. His partner was no longer a boy. He had gone through trial by fire and proven himself a very capable young man.
He spoke levelly, addressing Kaley. "Apparently you thought, sir, that Alan would rush in blindly an' get caught. He didn't. The fact that I'm here is proof of that. I think you owe him a helluvan apology. Do you have any idea what he'da gone through if you'd kept him prisoner while I was bein' interrogated an' executed? It's a damned good thing the situation wasn't reversed, 'cause I'da killed Phil. Alan would've been crazy by the time you released him, and *I* can tell you for sure that he'd have been a deadlier enemy than the whole Jilectan Autonomy."
There was a sudden silence. Kaley cleared his throat again, looking at Alan. "I'm trying to say that I'm sorry, Major Westover. I was wrong to give that order, and it won't happen again."
"It damn well better not!" Alan snapped. Mark felt his eyes widen.
Kaley grew redder. "Will you accept my apology, Major?"
Alan surveyed Kaley grimly for a moment. "That will depend on you, General. Trust isn't something that you can simply switch on and off. It has to be earned."
Kaley looked more uncomfortable than ever. "My psychics have been trying very hard to tell me that since I issued that order. I understood some of the problem, but far from all of it. All I can say is that I'm truly sorry. I made a very serious error in judgement. You are, of course, correct in saying that I don't understand what a psychic link is like, but I've seen enough to realize that it must be a very special relationship. I've lost your trust and your friendship, which, may I say, I valued very highly. I hope that I can regain at least the trust, someday. Will you give me the chance?"
Alan considered, his gaze never wavering, and Mark thought that Kaley held his breath. At last he spoke. "I'll give you a chance, General."
Kaley released his breath and turned to Mark. "I also owe you an apology, Major Linley. Whatever affects one psychic partner also affects the other. Will you also give me the chance to regain your trust?"
Mark scowled at his commanding officer. "Look, sir, you coulda killed Alan with what you did. If you'd given him a little cooperation, the risk of his gettin' caught woulda been a lot less. If McDougal hadn't decided to lend a hand he might not've got me out at all -- but I'm pretty sure he'da died tryin'. Have you thought about that?"
"Yes," Kaley said uncomfortably. "I have, Major, and I want it understood firmly that after this, one psychic partner in a Team is considered as important as the other. I will never again forcibly restrain one from helping the other."
"Noble soundin' words, sir," Mark said. "You'd better live up to 'em."
Alan turned toward him. "You should be resting, Mark. Dr. Philips wouldn't like this."
"I'm fine." Mark was still looking at Kaley's red face, the full import of what Alan must have gone through beginning to sink in. He'd had two enemies to deal with on that damned station -- the Underground as well as the Patrol. But he'd evaded the Underground, outwitted the Patrol, found an ally and rescued Mark. Not too shabby at all.
Kaley harrumphed, glancing from Alan to Mark. "Lieutenant McDougal came over with me and is waiting outside. He'd like to see you, if you feel up to it."
Alan looked quickly at Mark. Linley nodded. "Sure. I got a few things to say to him."
Kaley went to the door, but then he turned and looked back at Mark. "You never did answer my question."
Mark met his gaze levelly. "My answer is the same as Alan's, sir. It depends on you."
Kaley inclined his head, obviously relieved. "I won't disappoint you, Major." He hesitated. "You're to be decorated, you know. For heroism. And Lieutenant McDougal as well."
Mark grimaced. Another damned ceremony to get through. Maybe he could have a relapse....
"Orders from the Commander-in-Chief," Kaley continued, a little uncomfortably. He turned abruptly and went out. Mark met Alan's eyes.
"That damned fool!" Mark spoke explosively. "Why the hell didn't you tell me sooner?"
"I didn't want you to be upset, and I knew you would be."
"Damn right! I can hardly believe he'd do somethin' that dumb!"
"Neither could anyone else," Alan said. "I think the Commander-in-Chief was pretty upset about the whole thing. I sensed acute discomfort just now when he was telling us about our impending decorations."
"I'll bet." Mark glanced at the door as it slid open and a young, handsome man with dark hair and eyes peered through. "Hi! C'mon in!"
The newcomer obeyed, looking a little uncertain. He wore, Mark saw, the uniform of a first lieutenant, the glittering insignia placed precisely over the left breast.
"Hi Kurt!" Alan said. "Come meet Mark."
Lieutenant McDougal entered the room and Mark detected the slight limp that Alan had mentioned earlier -- the result of the dream dust administered three years ago by the Viceregal Patrol. "Good evening, Major Linley. I hope you're feeling better."
"I am, thanks." Mark extended a hand and the young man grasped it. "Real glad to meet you, Kurt. Call me Mark."
Kurt's smile became a grin. "Okay. Glad to meet you, too."
"Thanks for helpin' Alan. I appreciate it."
"You're welcome. I enjoyed it, when I wasn't scared to death," Kurt said. "I finally got to see how Alan earned his reputation."
Linley snorted. "Yeah, I know. He scares me sometimes, too."
Alan was looking at Kurt's immaculate uniform. "Gosh, you look nice! What's the occasion?"
McDougal snapped to attention, bringing his hand up in a rigid salute. "I wanted to look my best, Major, sir! After all, I was to be in the presence of two superior officers!"
Alan grinned. "Cut that out." He glanced down at his dirty, too tight jumpsuit. "Guess I ought to get changed, huh? You know, I haven't showered in three days. I'm surprised they haven't thrown me out."
Kurt wrinkled his nose. "I was about to comment on the delicate bouquet, but restrained myself. After all, you *are* a major, and majors *never* smell...."
Alan threw a punch at him and Kurt skipped back, grinning. "It's nice to be able to relax a little," he said. "I was never able to, after Tilthvar and the dream dust. I always felt that if I let my hair down, people would remember and say to each other, "Young punk. No wonder he got in trouble.'" Kurt sobered. "It's nice to be with people that I know believe me."
"I know whatcha mean," Mark said. "Drug charges are hard to live down."
"Especially in the Terran Space Corps," Alan said.
The door opened and Matt Philips entered the room, frowning at Kurt's presence. "I didn't say you could have visitors yet, Mark. I made an exception for Kaley, but I gave strict orders that he wasn't to stay more than fifteen minutes. You'll have to go, Lieutenant McDougal."
Kurt retreated. "I'm sorry, sir."
"Hold on, Kurt." Mark turned on the doctor. "Lieutenant McDougal saved my life. You be nice to him, or I'll know the reason why."
Philips frowned and then smiled. "You have a point. Nice to see you again, Lieutenant McDougal. All right, you can stay. Mustn't upset the patient. How are you adjusting to life here on Lavirra?"
"Fine, sir," Kurt said. "It's a lot different than I expected."
"Yeah, I know. No revolutionaries plotting insurrection around a flickering campfire, huh?"
"Well, I didn't think it would be that bad," Kurt said.
"Gosh, I hope not!" Alan said.
The door behind Philips swished open again and two other persons entered. Violet Perkins preceded Dr. Tono Mishamoto into the room. Alan got to his feet and extended a hand toward the doctor. "Doctor Mishamoto! I didn't have a chance to thank you for your help, sir."
Mishamoto took the hand. "It seemed the least I could do under the circumstances."
Alan turned to Mark. "Dr. Mishamoto helped me escape from Phil Connors."
Mark extended a hand as well. "Thanks, Doc. I hope Phil didn't give you too hard a time about it."
Mishamoto shrugged. "A little tongue lashing and a good stout lecture about keeping my nose out of things that didn't concern me. Then he locked me up."
"Oh, really?" Alan said.
Mishamoto nodded. "Yes, but less than an hour later he came in again, personally released me from custody and apologized. I've been treated quite royally since my arrival."
Mark chuckled. "I'll bet!"
Alan reached into an inner pocket of his maintenance suit and withdrew a small, slender object. "Your stylus, Doctor. Thank you very much."
The doctor accepted it. "You're most welcome."
Matt Philips sat down on the bed. "Okay, Mark, let me see that arm."
Mark complied, a little apprehensively. "Whatcha gonna do?"
"Now that the life-threatening part of your ordeal is past, I'd like to check out your other injuries. Looks like somebody did an awful fast job putting on that splint. Who did it, anyhow?"
"The ship's doctor."
Philips frowned, beginning to unfasten the splint. Mark winced, biting his lower lip as pain coursed down his arm. Alan winced. "Careful, Matt, you're hurting him."
"I know." Philips frowned again. "It shouldn't still be this painful."
Mark flinched at another sharp jab. Alan moved convulsively. "Matt!"
"Easy, kid. He's bein' as careful as he can."
"Sorry." Gently, Philips removed the splint and handed it to Violet. "How's the arm feel now?"
"Not bad," Mark lied.
Philips raised an eyebrow at him and then glanced at Alan. Mark grimaced, realizing the futility of trying to lie with three, and possibly four empaths in the room. "Okay, it's pretty sore. My thumb feels kinda numb, too."
Philips turned to Mishamoto. "I think this is more in your area, Tono."
Mishamoto stepped forward and ran a small instrument across Linley's arm. He frowned at the readout. "Looks all right. Just a minute."
He closed his eyes and placed an index finger lightly on Mark's elbow. The finger moved slowly, tracing a curiously searching path down Mark's forearm. Alan watched closely while Philips looked on, a faint smile on his lips.
"Compressed nerve," Mishamoto said. "I thought so. Hang on, Mark."
Linley jumped as a sharp twinge spasmed the muscles in his arm. Alan yipped at the same moment.
And abruptly the pain was gone. Mark relaxed, staring at the insignificant form of the doctor in amazement. Mishamoto opened his eyes, smiling in satisfaction.
"What did you *do*?" Alan asked.
Mishamoto's smile widened. "I relieved the pressure on the nerve."
"With telekinesis!" Alan stared at him. "Your telekinesis operates through living tissue!"
"It certainly does," Philips said. "So does his clairvoyance. Tono's been using his talent for years, quite unconsciously. I discovered the ability shortly after he arrived here."
"Wow!" Alan said in a hushed voice.
"What do you mean?" Kurt asked, clearly puzzled.
"Psychic powers don't operate through livin' tissue," Mark explained. "Only his *does*. This is big!"
"How does it feel now, Mark?" Mishamoto inquired.
"Like new," Mark said.
"The problem was caused by the splint," Mishamoto said. "There was pressure on the radial nerve. The doctor that put it on must have had his mind on other things."
"He did," Mark said. "There were 'trols all over the infirmary, watchin' every move he made. They were afraid he'd try'n slip me some poison."
Mishamoto had begun to apply another splint. "This one will let you use your hand," he explained. "Any residual numbness will wear off in a few days, and we'll seal the bone after the inflammation goes down a bit. You'll be good as new in a couple of weeks."
"That's great," Mark said.
Alan glanced up suddenly. "I sense Julia."
Philips turned to the door as it opened and Julia looked anxiously in. "Sorry, Lieutenant. I'm shooing everybody out, except for Alan, of course."
"Wait, Matt," Alan said.
Philips looked at him and for a moment the two psychics were silent. No one had to tell Mark what was happening. Telepathy was taking place.
Then Matt smiled. "Okay, Julia, come on in. Alan, you'd better go get some rest."
"Good idea," Mark said. "Thanks for everythin', kid. Go take your shower an' get some shuteye. You've earned it."
Alan winked. "Okay." He went to the door, smiling at Julia as he passed her. Kurt followed him.
"Bye, Mark," the lieutenant said.
"Bye, Kurt."
The two went out and Julia came to seat herself in Alan's chair. "Hi, Mark."
"Hi, honey."
Mishamoto finished applying the splint and stood up. "Okay, that's it."
"You're to rest, Mark," Philips told him. He glanced at Julia. "That's an order, Lieutenant Austell."
"Yes sir," Julia said. "I'll take care of him."
The two medical men went to the door. Mishamoto glanced back, smiling. "Bye, Mark."
Mark took Julia's hand. "Bye, Doc," he said absently.
"Get some rest, Mark," Philips said.
"I am restin'," Mark said. Julia was looking down at him. She was even more beautiful than he remembered.
"Mark," Matt said.
"Vamoose, willya please," Mark said.
Philips started to protest but Mishamoto had him by the arm. "Come on, Matt. He'll be fine."
The door closed smartly behind them.
The End
