Defector: 3/?
by Nancy Smith and Linda Garrick
IV
Their dinner finished, Alan, Mark and Lyn stood up. Alan looked around as Sh'Froo entered the dining area again. "Is everything ready?"
The Procyon inclined his head. "Everyone hash ashembled, shir."
"Then let's go find our friend and finish up."
"We very much appreciate your help, shir," the Procyon said.
Alan smiled. "That's what we're here for. Lead on."
The alien nodded and led the way through the back of the establishment. Ranlach's sun was low on the horizon and twilight was falling. The Procyons were descended from a species of nocturnal avian, Alan knew, and were adapted to night living. The streets were much more crowded now than they had been earlier, as the natives of the planet became more active. The informer might be surprised at receiving visitors, but the hour would certainly give her no reason for suspicion.
Alan reached out to casually rest a hand on his partner's wrist. The little jeweled clasp in his other hand seemed to pull him forward. Lyn fell back beside Sh'Froo.
The image of the Procyon female grew clearer. In physical appearance the only difference between male and female Procyons was their size, at least from a Terran viewpoint. But, as a species, there was a variation in dress between the sexes. This Procyon was wearing a loose tunic, drawn in at the waist with a golden cord. Loose, stylish trousers covered her legs, and a small, open-topped hat allowed her azure feather crest to glisten in the light provided by Ranlach's moons. Her feet were bare. Procyons, with the exception of those in the Patrol, never wore shoes.
The little clasp tingled against his palm. Procyons were passing them in the street, their expressionless dark eyes surveying the Terrans as they went by. One glanced at Mark and gave a startled chirp, skittering to one side and nearly running down the slidewalk away from him. Linley stared over his shoulder after him. "What the devil?"
"He thought you were a Jilectan," Lyn told him. "With that long coat on, I guess it's a little harder to see how you're dressed underneath."
Sh'Froo nodded gravely. "When you firsht walked into the café, my employeesh thought the shame thing. You *do* reshemble them shomewhat, shir."
"Yeah, I know," Mark said. "It's been convenient once or twice. Maybe I better take the coat off."
"Don't," Alan said. "If the informer thinks you're a Jil, we might be able to get closer to her. Too bad Lyn and I can't dress up as 'trols."
"Sh'Froo could," Lyn said.
They paused beside their aircar. Mark glanced at the Procyon. "You got a uniform handy?"
"At the shtation. But I have none large enough for you, shir."
"I'm the Jil," Mark said. "With a 'trol next to me it'll look more realistic."
"I shall take only a few minutes." Sh'Froo turned and ran back toward the cafe.
Lyn, Alan and Mark got into the aircar. Behind them, four anonymous Procyons got into the car parked directly to their rear. Those were their backup, of course. Lyn took the controls while Mark and Alan slid into the rear seat and waited.
"Howya doin', kid?" Mark asked after a few minutes.
"Fine." Alan kept his attention on the image of the informer. "She's not far away."
Mark moved convulsively, and Alan glanced past him at the Procyon in the uniform of a Patrol sergeant who was reaching for the passenger door. "It's Sh'Froo."
Mark relaxed. The front door opened and the Procyon slid into the seat. "Let ush go."
"Convincin'," Mark said. "You walk just like a 'trol!"
Sh'Froo gave a chirp. "At leasht it should keep me from being recognizhed."
The aircar rose gently from the ground. Lyn glanced back at the two men in the rear seat. "Which way?"
"North," Alan said. The pull coming from the clasp in his hands was very definite. His surroundings blurred out in concentration and the image sharpened as distance decreased. "She's with someone. I can't see her companion well."
Sh'Froo made a soft sound in his throat.
"A little to the east," Alan said. "A little more...that's it."
"Ish Colonel Westover all right?" Sh'Froo asked suddenly. "He looksh shick!"
"He's fine," Mark said. "He always looks like he's about to throw up when he's trackin' somebody."
Alan smiled faintly. "We're getting closer."
"There's a row of buildin's straight ahead," Mark said. "Looks kinda like apartments or somethin'."
"It ish," Sh'Froo said. His voice had acquired a new note. "Mosht coinshidental. One of my employeesh hash a female friend who livesh here."
"Oh yeah?" Linley's voice sounded grim. "Who?"
"He ish not a member of the Underground," Sh'Froo said. "He deliversh shuppliesh for the reshtaurant."
"That probably explains why his knowledge is limited," Lyn said softly. "If he doesn't know much, then, naturally, she wouldn't. Who is he?"
"Hish name is Ch'Tal," Sh'Froo said. His birdlike voice had acquired a savage edge, and Alan saw the taloned fingers of his hands curl like those of a Terran bird of prey.
There was a pause.
"We'd better try to take her alive," Lyn said. "We need to know what she's found out and how much she's let slip. I hope it's her boyfriend that's with her."
"Yeah," Mark said. "Just let me get my hands on him --"
"That will be my privilege," Sh'Froo said.
"Down," Alan said. "We're very close."
Lyn brought the aircar down on the narrow street that ran beside the actual apartment complex. Alan climbed out, still resting one hand on Linley's forearm. Behind them, the other aircar also landed and the four Procyon occupants emerged. They stayed back from Alan's group, apparently a party of four Procyon males unconnected with the supposed Jil and his companions.
"You stay in the car, Lyn," Mark said. "We'll be back in a few minutes."
They rounded the corner of the building and turned toward the main entrance. Mark strode slowly and impressively forward, accommodating his stride to Alan's shorter legs, but his chin was elevated in the lofty attitude of a Jilectan. It was amazing, Alan thought with admiration, how his partner slid so effortlessly into the role. Procyons passing in the street fell back as they swept imperiously by. Behind them, the backup group maintained its distance, but Alan could sense the sharp purpose in all four Procyon minds. He felt almost a little sorry for their quarry.
Almost. If what Sh'Froo had told them was accurate, the informer had already been responsible for the deaths of two Procyons.
They ascended two wide, shallow steps and entered a dimly lighted lobby. The being behind the security desk started to his feet, his eyes widening slightly before he moved to the side and dropped to one knee. Sh'Froo stepped confidently forward.
"Hish Lordship ish tracking," he announced. "Do not interfere."
"No, shir. Of courshe not." The other Procyon did not venture to rise from his kneeling position as Mark went past him toward the lift. Behind him, at some distance, followed the backup, looking appropriately subdued in the presence of the supposed Jilectan.
One set of doors slid open as they approached. Two emerging Procyons gave startled trills and leaped lightly aside as Mark swept magnificently forward. The lift doors slid shut and he laughed softly. "It's amazin' what people'll take from an attitude. Which floor?"
"Push them all," Alan said. "I'll tell you when we get there. As soon as we know we're on the right one, Major Sh'Froo can notify his men."
The lift proceeded upward to the second floor, and stoppedd. The doors slid open.
"Not here," Alan said.
"Hold the lift!" a distinctly Terran voice shouted. A man came running forward, one hand reaching for the doors. His gaze lit on Mark, Sh'Froo and Alan and he came to a screeching halt outside the doors. His expression reflected puzzlement as the doors slid shut between them. They proceeded upward once more.
"He realizhed you were not a Jil," Sh'Froo said.
"Yeah," Mark said. "He probably won't do nothin'."
Precognition was pulling at Alan's senses. "I'm getting a warning."
"Huh? What --"
The doors slid open again and Alan knew at once. "This is it. Let's go."
Sh'Froo chirped several words in his native language into the communicator on his wrist, and then took the lead, stepping out of the lift and bowing deeply, for the edification of a passing Procyon as Mark, trailed by Alan, emerged. The passerby gave a startled squawk and dropped to his knees.
Mark went past him without a glance.
The pull against the little ornament was strong and the trail was easy to follow. Alan led them twenty meters down the hallway and around a corner, and stopped. "This is it, M'lord."
"My men are at all the exitsh," Sh'Froo informed them softly.
"Good. Let's get her." Mark rapped sharply. "Kid, you step back. Sh'Froo, you do the talkin'. My accent'll give me away."
"Yesh, shir."
"Who ish it?" a voice from within inquired.
"Visheregal Patrol! Open the door immediately!" Sh'Froo barked.
The door opened at once, revealing the female Procyon. Her hat had been removed and the blue-green feathers of her crest stood up straight on her head. Mark strode forward and she leaped back, the tiny, vestigial wings on her shoulders lifting slightly.
"M'lord!" she gasped.
Sh'Froo followed Mark, and Alan entered descreetly in the rear, closing the door behind them.
Another Procyon, a male, entered from the adjoining room. His gaze lit on Mark and he gave a shocked squawk, dropping to his knees. The female also knelt, her round, dark eyes lowered.
Sh'Froo stepped forward. "Hish Lordship wishesh to know if you have dishcovered anything elshe about the outlaws."
The Procyon male glanced at the female and Alan sensed surprise and annoyance. The female looked timidly up at Mark. "M'lord, I wash told that no one would -- would come here while Ch'Tal wash with me. I have not had time to dishcover whether or not he learned anything more of interesht to you --"
Sh'Froo spoke again. "The pershonsh you named were undoubtedly membersh of the Terran Underground. Thish organizhation poshesh a grave threat to the Autonomy, and dishcovery of itsh membersh ish of great importanshe." He strode forward and jerked the kneeling Procyon male to his feet. "You will tell ush all you know, Ch'Tal!"
Ch'Tal was limp in his grasp, and Alan sensed terror. "I know nothing! I did not even know that they were connected to the Underground! They were such pleashant people!" He turned his head toward the kneeling figure of the female. "What hash she told you?"
Alan stepped forward. "He's telling the truth." He turned to look at the female Procyon. "Ch'Tal saw some activities that he considered odd. He was curious and intrigued, and he looked a little closer. Then he mentioned these amusing activities to his girlfriend, Le'Lin. But Le'Lin is a bright young woman and she realized that something very probably against the law was going on. This didn't worry her, but she knew that such information delivered to the right authorities is often worth money, so she informed the local police, who contacted the Patrol. The Patrol came to investigate, and when they tracked down one of the individuals that she mentioned, he killed himself to avoid capture. They then knew that they had discovered more than the original smuggling ring that they expected to uncover. They paid Le'Lin well, and told her they would continue to pay her well if she would bring them further information. She did, and another Procyon died."
Le'Lin scrambled to her feet, her face contorted in the Procyon equivalent of fury. "You are a Terran pshychic!" she hissed.
Mark's blaster appeared in his hand as if by magic. "Let's go, missie."
**********
"One moment, shir." Sh'Froo held up a hand. "I musht notify my people to evacuate at onshe. When the Patrol learnsh that itsh informer has been neutralizhed, they will move quickly to collect the cafésh employeesh before they can escape." He tapped a button on his wrist communicator. "Code shix."
There was no response, except for a faint beep from the device. Sh'Froo nodded briskly to Mark. "Let ush go."
"Wait!" Alan said.
They all turned to Mark's partner. Alan seemed to be looking into the distance, but his gaze focused instantly on his partner. "The Patrol's here. Lyn's trying to delay them!"
As he spoke, Sh'Froo's communicator began to beep furiously.
Sh'Froo absently tapped an acknowledgement into the device. "My men will attempt to give ush cover. Ish there a back way out?"
Alan gasped suddenly. "Lyn's been hit!" He started toward the door.
Mark grabbed him. "No!" He turned to Le'Lin and leveled the blaster at her face. "Show us the way out! Now!"
The Procyon female glared back at him, only to find herself looking down the muzzle of Sh'Froo's blaster as well. "You are a traitor to your people, woman. We have learned all we need from you. If you do not cooperate, you will die here."
"Mark, she's been hit! It's bad!"
"I will take you." Le'Lin's voice was sullen. "Come."
"Move!" Mark snapped.
"There's no one in the hall," Alan said. Linley could see sweat on his partner's forehead. "Go."
Le'Lin opened the door and went out. Sh'Froo moved up beside her and clasped one of her feathered arms. The muzzle of his blaster pressed against her side, but in such a way that it wasn't obvious to possible observers. They headed down the hallway toward the stairs at a brisk walk. Behind them, Linley heard the lift door open, and the sound of running feet. He turned and fired at the foremost patrolman as he rounded the corner.
The man went down. The second dove sideways as Sh'Froo also fired. The man stayed down.
Mark ran after the aliens, pushing his partner ahead of him, hoping that his body would shield Alan from the stray blaster fire, in any more patrolmen were following the first two, but apparently they had been alone. A small exit door opened in the wall, just around the next turn, and Sh'Froo yanked it open. A narrow flight of steps was visible in the dimness and they ran down it, pushing their prisoners before them.
Below them, footsteps were ascending in a hurry. Ch'Tal cringed against the walls as Mark, Alan and Sh'Froo fired together.
Le'Lin tore herself free of Sh'Froo's loosened grasp and nearly dived down the steps toward the squad of patrolmen. "Wait! Don't shoot! I am the informer!"
A blaster bolt from below caught her and she fell, tumbling head-foremost down the steps. Ch'Tal shouted her name, but remained flat against the wall as the blaster fire was exchanged. The four patrolmen went down and Sh'Froo gave a shrill screech, going to his knees on the steps, although he didn't release his blaster. Mark grabbed him. "C'mon, kid, let's move!"
They reached the bottom of the steps and Alan pushed it open without hesitation. Mark decided that there must be little danger and followed, supporting Sh'Froo with one arm. Ch'Tal remained beside them, apparently making no effort to escape.
There were lights everywhere and noise. People shouted, screeched and chirrupped. Alan and Mark ran toward a thick, decorative hedge, keeping their heads low to avoid the searching beams and dragging Sh'Froo between them. Then they were crouching in the hedge, tring to make themselves small and invisible as a squad of patrolmen ran past. Sh'Froo gave a muffled groan.
"Let's get outta here," Mark breathed.
They skirted the hedge, moving slowly away from the building. Ch'Tal quietly slipped an arm around Sh'Froo, freeing Alan to provide a better guard for them. The lighting was poor, Mark saw. Only the pale, blue lights illuminated the area, and hopefully they would not be noticed for a few vital seconds.
A figure appeared beside them and Mark spun, lifting his blaster. The being was a Procyon, wearing a Patrol uniform, but Alan caught his arm. "He's a friend," he whispered.
"Come with me, quickly!" the being's birdlike voice said softly. He stepped forward and took Mark's place supporting Sh'Froo. "Thish way!"
Within seconds, Mark saw the dark bulk of an aircar parked in the deep shadow of the alley that ran along beside the next building. The newcomer bundled Sh'Froo inside and the Terrans followed. Ch'Tal climbed in beside them without protest. The uniformed Procyon got into the driver's seat, turned on the flashing light atop the car, and lifted from the street.
"Who are you?" Mark demanded.
The Procyon didn't turn his head. "I am Le'Cheel, Major Sh'Froo's second in command."
"Report," Sh'Froo wheezed weakly from his spot between Alan and Ch'Tal.
"The evacuation wash shuccshessful. Your backup eshcaped, one with a leg wound," Le'Cheel informed his superior. "Lieutenant Parnell wash caught."
"I know," Mark said. "How bad is she hurt?"
"I do not know. She hash been taken to the Chirill Patrol Shtation."
"She was hit on the side," Alan said. "Just below the ribcage. She's hurt bad." He covered his face with his hands.
Linley put a hand on his shoulder. "Easy, kid. They won't dare let her die. That'll give us a chance to rescue her."
"I know." Alan lowered his hands, and Linley saw that his face was deathly white. "I'm sorry I panicked there for a moment."
"She's your girl," Linley said. "I'd've done the same thing. We're gonna get her out, somehow. Trust me."
**********
tbc
