Wonderland Revisited: 5/?
by Nancy Smith and Linda Garrick
V
Alan Westover opened his eyes. The cabin was quiet except for the faint hiss of air through the ventilators, and he felt calm and relaxed. The headache had departed. He lay quiet for a moment, trying to recall how he had arrived here. He was in Mark and Kevin's quarters aboard the "Patton" and Mark had brought him here. What had caused that terrible, blinding headache?
Alan frowned. Just before waking, he had been dreaming. What had it been about? For some reason, it seemed terribly important that he remember, but, as he strove to, the images faded and vanished.
Slowly and carefully, he sat up. How long had he been asleep? He checked his chronometer and was astounded. He'd been out well over four hours. They were two hours into the second shift. Mark and Kevin would be on duty.
He got to his feet, looked in the mirror and almost laughed. The wig had twisted sideways and slid backwards. His own dark, curly hair stuck out beneath it on all sides.
He replaced the wig and used Mark's comb to rearrange the soft waves. There, that looked all right. He borrowed Kevin's razor and gave his chin a quick going over to make sure no one would spot a five-o'clock shadow on him. He couldn't see one, himself, but in brighter lighting someone else might. He straightened his clothing. The padded bra had moved up and he adjusted it, trying to get it centered and frowned at the results. Less than an hour remained until they reached the Capellan system. Hopefully, he could find the disk before then.
Well, that looked pretty good. After another moment, he slid his feet into the boots and drew a breath. On with the show.
He was feeling much better, refreshed and slightly euphoric as he descended toward the Fourth deck. He entered the gym and glanced casually around, trying to concentrate. His clairvoyant power still wasn't working as well as he would like. Alan closed his eyes, trying to envision the disk.
He saw it immediately, a spot in darkness, walls surrounding it. Again the face of the woman with her floating draperies and yellow hair, and a background of trees and underbrush. Something out of a dream.
He blinked. What could the images mean? There was nothing like that aboard the ship, yet the disk was near. He was sure of that much.
He needed his power packs but Mark and Kevin were on duty and unavailable at the moment.
"Sublight in fifteen minutes," the ship's intercom announced.
Where to go? If he was Rannir, and he *had* to hide the thing, where would he put it? Arcturians were a strange species, sometimes very hard to understand. The place he would have hidden the thing would have been clever, for some very clever enemies would be searching for it. Some place that Terrans might think to look but not Jilectans.
Of course the Viceregal Patrol would also be looking. All right then; the men who joined the Patrol were a select sort, mercenaries all, hard-nosed and earthy. Where would Rannir hide the disk that the Viceregal Patrol would not be likely to look?
He mulled it over uselessly. Concentrate. Get your direction. He thought of Eric's words -- Eric Vogleman, the best psychic tracer in the Terran Underground until Alan Westover had arrived.
He closed his eyes, leaned back against the wall and tried to relax. There. It was toward the right. That was the direction: the game room or maybe the library.
Sublight in five minutes.
He *must* find it. Alan hurried into the game room. It was deserted and there were shelves and drawers on all sides. It could be in any one of them. Again he concentrated but the image seemed blurred now, drawing away from him as he reached toward it. For a moment, vertigo gripped him and he stopped, opening his eyes and drawing a deep breath. It wouldn't help anyone if he ended up in Sick Bay with the doctor doing a physical exam on him. Methodically, he began to search the shelves and drawers of the game room.
**********
Mark Linley glanced over at the young woman seated at the screen beside him. Jessica Rosenberg was a very pretty girl with dark, waving hair and eyes of an almost bronze hue. So this was Alan's roommate, who had pictures of him and his partner in her quarters. Mark grinned slightly. He wouldn't mind getting to know her better. Too bad the chance would probably never come.
He saw her glance over at him and she smiled shyly. "You're from Shallock, aren't you, Lieutenant Ashley? I recognize your accent."
He nodded. "Born an' bred in Knitmye. Helluva place."
"So I've heard." Her eyelids drooped for a moment. "I've heard that Mark Linley was from Shallock. Did you know him?"
Mark's breath got stuck in his throat. He looked away, checking a sitting on the panel. "No, I never met him."
"Mmm." Jessica wasn't looking at him, apparently absorbed in a computer readout on her board. "They say he's a big man, too -- about your size, or so I hear."
"Yeah?" Linley's spine was tingling. "Well, a lotta guys from Shallock are big. Lotsa 'trols there, an' they tend to produce big kids, y'know." He grinned at her, trying to appear casual. "Mom tells me Vern's an my dad was a 'trol."
She reddened slightly.
"Sublight in five minutes," the disembodied voice over the com announced suddenly.
Jessica examined a reading and made a minor adjustment on her board. "Why didn't you become a patrolman, Lieutenant Ashley? I know a lot of kids from Shallock do -- and you're the right size for it."
Mark strove to look offended. "Do I look like the type to become a mercenary, honey? Not me. Brave, loyal, true, kind, thrifty, humble --"
Jessica laughed. "I didn't notice."
Linley grinned. She was a likeable young woman, and her perfume reminded him of Julia. He felt a tug of longing at the thought of her.
Jessica was speaking again. "Funny, don't you think, that a man who had been a patrolman for ten years and was so successful at his profession should do such a complete turnabout? I wonder why he did it."
"Maybe he had reasons nobody knew about," Mark said. "Don't ask me, baby. You seem to know a lot more about him than I do."
She glanced sideways. "You might say that. People interest me."
Mark squirmed and looked at her again. She wasn't watching him, however. Her eyes were fixed on the panel before her and her full lips smiled faintly. "The board shows ready, sir."
There was a brief silence and then Jessica spoke again, still not looking at him. "A Strike Commander who would suddenly throw away his whole career to help a boy he'd only known a few days is either crazy or a very interesting person, don't you think?"
Linley grinned. "Bet he wondered about that for a while, too. I don't think anybody could do a thing like that without suspectin' his sanity."
Jessica laughed. "You seem to understand people pretty well, Lieutenant Ashley. Why *do* you suppose he did it? I've always wondered about it. I knew Alan Westover slightly while he was at TSA, you know, so I've sort of got a personal interest in it. Got any ideas?"
"Nope." Mark thought he saw a chance to change the subject. "You say you *knew* Westover? What was he like?"
"Oh --" Jessica laughed. "He was a nice boy. Shy and awfully smart. I didn't know him well. I was a freshman when he was a senior. It's funny to hear some of the things the Jils say about him. Do you suppose any of them are true?"
Linley shrugged. "Who knows?"
"Oh? I thought you might have some ideas on the subject."
He swiveled his chair around to look at her. "What do you mean?"
Her eyes met his. "Why nothing. Just making conversation."
He stared at her, bewildered. She smiled at him and turned back to her screen. Mark adjusted the power analyzer and stared at the readout without seeing it. Did she suspect? Had she recognized him? If so, what would she do about it?
"Sublight in five seconds."
There was a jolt and the stars reappeared on the viewscreen.
"Good Lord!" The cry was loud over the intercom. "Patrol cruisers! Two of 'em! They're firing at us!"
"Shields up!" He heard the Captain's order clearly. "'Patton' to Patrol battlecruiser, what is the meaning of this?"
"Cut your engines and prepare for boarding," a heavily accented voice replied.
"I will *not*! Identify yourself immediately, battlecruiser! We have violated no law and are on a routine mission to--"
"Captain Chang, this is Strike Commander Toyoma of the 'Javalin'. Cur your engines at once and lower your shields. Prepare for boarding."
"And if we refuse?"
"If you refuse, it will be considered an act of defiance toward the Jilectan Autonomy. Your ship will be impounded and its crew members executed. Lower your shields at once and lay to."
"Captain Chang."
Mark froze. It was the soft, deep voice of a Jilectan. There was a sudden, electrically charged silence.
"Yes, M'lord."
"Lower your shields and prepare for boarding. This is Lord Stivolthvor."
There was another silence.
"Cut engines," Captain Chang's voice said. "All crewmen will cooperate fully with the boarding party."
Mark turned to look at Jessica. The young woman's eyes looked twice the size they had a moment ago and were fixed on his, frightened and pleading. Mark swallowed and summoned a smile.
"Jilectans!" she whispered. "Will *they* be coming aboard with the Patrol?"
"Probably," Mark said. "Take it easy. They ain't gods, much as they like to believe they are. Just do your job. They won't even notice you."
"I'm scared!"
"Don't be, honey."
"I've never even *seen* a Jilectan!"
Mark patted her hand. "They won't bother you -- not so long as you do what they say. Stay outta their way as much as you can, an' the Patrol's too. 'Specially the Patrol's."
She gripped his hand hard and Mark could feel her shaking. Not surprising, he thought. The reputation of the Viceregal Patrol was bad and that of the Jils worse.
Silence filled the engineering room. People shifted uneasily, not sure what to expect. At last they heard the drum of booted feet in the outer corridor and a squad of the Viceregal Patrol entered. The eyes of every individual in the room turned toward them, and the level of apprehension was palpable. A Patrol lieutenant entered behind them, accompanied by a Jilectan.
The alien towered over his human subordinates, his form lithe and graceful. His hair was a pale, reddish blond, and he wore silver robes that glinted in the light. Icy blue eyes regarded the Terrans. The entire population of the Engineering Department came to its feet and Jessica moved a step closer to Mark.
Linley's shields were up as tightly as possible and he kept his eyes fixed on the deck after the single glance at the Jil. The patrolmen fanned out across the room, opening drawers, cabinets and storage compartments, rifling through the contents and leaving it scattered about. Jessica shrank against him as a tall, powerfully built patrolman stepped up to the panel where they had been seated, yanked open the small utility drawer beside it and dumped the contents on the deck. The man glanced at her and grinned, chucking her under the chin.
"Take it easy, baby," he said, and continued his search.
**********
VI
Alan was searching the rec room when the announcement came that the Patrol would be boarding. Well, he'd just have to stay out of their way, he told himself. No one was likely to notice him if he remained quiet and inconspicuous.
He looked around the room again. It was still deserted. He hope that Mark and Kevin would be able to steer clear of the Jils. Their positions were much more vulnerable than his own. Engineering would undoubtedly be one of the first places searched, and the Control Room wouldn't be far behind.
He frowned and then went into the Lounge. The room was likewise deserted and he settled down on the nearest sofa, closed his eyes and tried again to envision the little silver disk.
It was close -- maddeningly close! His surroundings blurred out in his concentration. Come on, he told himself. It shouldn't be this difficult. He was feeling much better. The headache and dizziness were now completely gone. He reached out, straining...
A large hand descended on his shoulder and his eyes flew open. A patrolman was standing over him, the red rank markings on his helmet proclaiming him a sublieutenant. Half a dozen other patrolmen were entering the room behind him.
Alan gulped and scooted backwards on the sofa, feeling his heart beginning to thump painfully and annoyed that his clairvoyance had not warned him of the man's approach.
The sublieutenant grinned cheerfully at him. "We're gonna search the room baby." Alan would have recognized that accent anywhere. The man was from Shallock. "Just stay put. Nobody's gonna hurtcha."
The patrolmen were moving through the room, checking in cabinets and under chair cushions. Alan scrunched back against the cushions, his eyes lowered, waiting for them to go away. He could feel the sublieutenant watching him and his skin crawled. The man had ideas about this cute, young girl...
"Don't look so scared, honey," the sublieutenant said, sounding amused. "Pretty li'l thing like you don't need t'be scared o' the Patrol."
"Hell no," another man chimed in. "You gotta be the prettiest little thing I've seen since we got on this damn crate."
"Get to work, Casey," the sublieutenant said, his gaze still fixed on Alan.
"We're finished, sir. It ain't here."
"Okay, on to the library." He glanced at Casey and jerked his head. "Be with you in a minute."
The other man grinned. "Sure. Just let me know when you're finished so I can have my turn."
The squad went out, leaving Alan and the sublieutenant alone. The door slid shut and Alan felt his heartbeat speed up in panic.
"What do you want?" His voice squeaked shamefully and he had to clear his throat.
The patrolman sat down on the couch beside him, putting an arm around his shoulders. Alan moved as far away as possible. "Leave me alone!"
The sublieutenant pulled off his helmet, revealing a blond, handsome countenance, with high cheekbones and electric blue eyes. "Aw, c'mon, honey. I ain't that repulsive, am I?" He scooted over on the seat toward Alan, who jumped to his feet.
"Leave me alone, or I'll report you, sir!"
The man laughed. "They don't care, honey, as long as we do our job. Now, my men are searchin' the library an' that's gonna take a while. We got time..." He got up, advancing toward Alan. "You got the cutest li'l face I've ever seen, baby...Aw, c'mon, don't look so scared. I don't bite. M'name's Boris." He grimaced. "I hate it but it's the only one I got. What's yours?"
Alan was backed against a bulkhead. Where the devil was Mark? His partner should have been here long since. He gulped. "I'm Alice," he managed.
Boris put a hand on his shoulder. "I like that name. Alice in Wonderland, huh? Honey, there's all kinda wonders in this galaxy I can tell you don't know nothin' about -- not yet, anyway." He bent forward, smiling, his fingers caressing Alan's shoulders.
*Holy heck!* Alan thought. *Is this guy ever going to get a shock if he manages to get my clothes off! Mark! Help!* He turned his face away from the patrolman. "Don't, sir! I'm afraid!"
"No reason t'be, honey." Boris put a hand on the side of his head, smoothing the wig. "Your hair's like silk from Shallock -- finest there is..."
The door slid open and the patrolman let Alan go, turning around in annoyance. "What the hell --"
Mark Linley strode through the door and stopped, his darkened eyebrows drawing together in apparent anger. "What's goin' on? Did he try somethin', Alice?"
Alan ducked past Boris to Mark, who put an arm around him. "Are you okay, honey?"
Alan nodded, allowing his partner to pull him tighter against his side. He could feel Linley trembling with suppressed laughter.
The patrolman stared at Linley. "Who the devil are you?"
"Lieutenant Ashley," Mark snapped. "The young lady's m'fiancee, so leave her alone!"
The sublieutenant raised a blond eyebrow. "A Shallockian?" He grinned suddenly. "Well well, my mistake, darlin'. If I know Shallockian men as well as I think I do, then all the wonders o' the galaxy have already been revealed t'you." He picked up his helmet.
Mark stepped aside, his arm still around Alan, as the man went to the door. He paused and then reached out to tilt up Alan's chin with one finger. "You still got the prettiest li'l face I ever seen, honey. An' if this guy's ever mean t'you, come look me up. Boris Kerrovitch, Viceregal Patrol." He grinned. "I'll smear him all over the walls an' take you away to Wonderland with me." He winked and went out, the door sliding to behind him.
There was a silence. Alan gave a deep sigh and disengaged himself from Mark's grasp. "Oh man!" he said. "These Shallockian characters! A girl ain't safe!"
Mark snorted. "You shouldn't be so fetchin' an' sexy, sweetheart, if you don't want the fellas makin' passes."
Alan's eyes widened. "I was minding my own business! The guy practically came in an attacked me! You Shallockians!"
Mark grinned. "No luck so far?"
Alan shook his head. "What's happening downstairs?"
"There's 'trols pawin' through everythin' an' two Jils on board. Hope Kev's okay. He ain't here, so he must be stuck somewhere an' can't get away."
"We'd hear something if he wasn't."
"For sure. Look, kid, I gotta get back. You gonna be okay?"
"I'll be fine. Thanks for the rescue."
"Don't mention it, honey. Better steer clear o' these guys, though. You're too cute."
Alan nodded emphatically. "Don't worry; I will. The next one might not be as much of a gentleman as Boris."
"You can say that again. You get your clothes ripped off an' we'll all be in trouble. How's the head, by the way?"
"Feels okay right now."
"Good. You better get crackin', sweetheart, but stay outta trouble."
Alan flushed. "This is the most embarrassing thing that's ever happened to me! Will you please quit rubbing it in?"
Mark laughed and slapped him on the shoulder. "Okay. Yell if you run into any more problems. I'll be seein' you."
"I will. Bye, Damian."
"Bye, Alice." Mark went out. Alan stood still for a moment, drawing a breath, and then followed him out. He stood in the game room for a moment, watching Mark's broad shoulders as he left the recreation area and retreated down the passageway toward the lifts. Then he turned slowly, as if drawn down by a magnet. The library. It was in the library. All at once, the certainty crystallized in his brain and his heart was beating fast as he strode toward the room. This time he was absolutely sure.
***********
tbc
