Defector: 4/?
by Nancy Smith and Linda Garrick
V
Strike Commander Thoroski finished packing his bag, inserting into the liners and pockets all articles it was possible that a Patrol deserter might need. He sealed the last pocket and glanced up guiltily at a rap on the door leading to his valet's quarters. "Yes, Smythe?"
"May I come in, sir?"
"Yeah."
Gregory Smythe entered. He was a small, slim young man, blond, blue-eyed and dapper in appearance. "All set to go, sir?"
"I think so. This is one leave I'm ready for."
His valet nodded understandingly. "I can see that, sir. You don't look well at all." The man's Basic was perfect. "If I may say so, you look like you haven't had a wink of sleep this whole trip."
It was almost true, but Thoroski wasn't about to admit it to his valet. "I did, but not much. I got some bad news just before we left. My favorite sister passed away."
"I'm sorry, sir."
There was a short pause and then Thoroski shrugged. "Thanks. Get me some coffee, woill you? I have to be in the control room in a few minutes."
Smythe went out and returned a moment later with a mug of coffee, loaded with cream the way Thoroski liked it. Smythe was a good valet and a likeable little chap. It made Thoroski feel a little sad that he would never see the young man again.
He gulped his coffee while Smythe eased his boots onto his feet and carefully settled his helmet onto his head with gloved hands to avoid fingerprints. The valet was silent now, his face thoughtful, almost as though he sensed somethimg more wrong than just the untimely death of a beloved sister.
Thoroski stood up. "I'll be leaving as soon as we reach Ranlach. I suppose you'll take a leave at the same time?"
"Yes sir. I'm staying with the ship until Corala. My family's there."
"Oh?" Thoroski had never heard his valet mention a family before. "Your parents?"
"My mother, sir, and two younger brothers. I'll be staying with them."
"Oh. Well, have a good vacation."
"Thank you, sir." Smythe set Thoroski's bag beside the bunk.
Thoroski went to the door and glanced back. The young man's eyes met his expressionlessly.
"Goodbye, Greg."
"Goodbye, sir. Have a good leave."
"Thanks." Thoroski went out.
They came out of hyperspace over Ranlach and docked at the Chirill Patrol Base. Thoroski officially turned command over to Subcommander Ch'Dreel, went back to his quarters to pick up his bags and walked out of the ship.
Many of the patrolmen were also leaving, talking and laughing, glad for a temporary release from duty while the ship was docked. Thoroski saw Parks heading off the ship, accompanied by another patrolman. The two men were talking, and the Strike Commander fell in behind them, listening to their conversation.
"Yeah," Parks was saying. "A lot of guys don't like assignments like this last one, but it don't bother me. Guess my morals ain't that high."
The other man laughed, too. "Mine, neither. And there's always a few women in those colonies who'll sell themselves, hoping you'll let' 'em go. 'Course I never do, but I sure as hell don't miss my chance with a good-lookin dame."
Parks roared. "For sure!"
Thoroski's jaw clenched. He'd never liked this pair. Now he knew why.
"Where'dja like to go tonight?" the other patrolman asked.
"Torali's. That's where Patty works, you know."
"Sounds good to me --"
Thoroski let the two men pull ahead and then followed them down the ramp. He, too, was going to make a visit to Torali's Bar tonight.
Twilight was settling over the landscape as Thoroski emerged from the cruiser. The grounds of the landing field were brightly illuminated by floodlamps, and Thoroski strode briskly across it, bags in hand. His mind was on Parks. The man was going to die tonight, and if possible, Thoroski intended to make the death as slow and unpleasant as possible.
He grinned savagely, thinking it over. Patrolmen were, of necessity, well versed in such things as human weaknesses and ways to make stubborn prisoners talk when no refined interrogation devices were handy. It was part of their training when they joined the Viceregal Patrol. Unlike many members of the Patrol, Thoroski had never liked that part of the job but tonight was an exception to the rule.
If he could just find a nice, secluded place to do it.
He left the base and strolled slowly along the walkway, still carrying his bags. Parks probably hadn't left the base yet, so he had plenty of time to plan his strategy. Twilight deepened into true night and stars sprinkled the sky. Thoroski picked out Riskell's sun and the star of his home world, and swallowed. He had been fourteen when Helena had been born there: his tiny baby sister.
Thoroski's lips tightened. They were going to pay for what they had done. All of them, from Parks, who had pulled the trigger, to His Highness Lord Halthzor, the Jilectan Viceroy himself, who had given the order.
Ranlach was the third world in the Procyon system, the native planet of the vaguely owl-like race of beings identified by the Terran name of their home star. Many of the aliens were going by in the street, their round, dark eyes passing over him expressionlessly. There were Procyons in the Viceregal Patrol, of course. Ch'Dreel was one of them, but the vast majority of the species was too light-boned to make effective patrolmen. Ch'Dreel was large for his species -- nearly two meters in height -- but in mass he barely met the requirement. Terrans, however, fit into the slot nicely, many of the males being over the 1.8 meters in height and massing well over the required 85 kilos. Thoroski, himself, was short for a patrolman. He was 1.82 meters and massed 87 kilos, however once you were in the Patrol size lost its importance. Thoroski had advanced rapidly through the ranks and been promoted to Strike Commander four years ago at the yourhful age of twenty-nine. He was the third-youngest individual on record to reach that exalted status, the first being the notorious Patrol deserter, Mark Linley, who had reached it at twenty-five, and the second, Strike Commander Foxe, who had died at the hands of Alan Westover on the Terran Light Cruiser "Patton". He wondered, a little grimly, what the Jils would have to say when it became obvious that Strike Commander Thoroski had deserted his command.
It was not unknown for patrolmen to desert. There had been several before him, two of them Strike Commanders. Both had joined the Terran Underground and were now under the protection of the outlaw organization. But he had no way of informing the Underground of his changed loyalties and on his own his life was likely to be short and violent. Thoroski knew of several such deserters who had not joined the Underground. They had eventually been tracked down. Public execution was a very unpleasant way to die. He didn't want to end up that way, no matter what.
Thoroski sighed. There really hadn't been a choice, though. As the Strike Commander of the "Leviathan", he couldn't hope to avoid Lord Chalthzor for long, and the first time the Jil read his mind, he would have picked up the changed loyalties and Thoroski would be in the soup.
Torali's Bar was ahead, the windows glowing faintly blue in the gathering dusk. Thoroski entered and glanced around. As yet, the establishment was sparsely occupied, but many of the off duty patrolmen would be arriving soon. All he needed to do was wait. Knowing Wilbur Parks' type, the man would undoubtedly leave the bar more than a little intoxicated, and Thoroski's chance would come.
A Procyon waiter approached the table. "May I sherve you, shir?"
Thoroski ordered a brandy and sat back, waiting. The little bar was quiet and illuminated with soft blue lighting. His drink arrived and he leaned back, sipping it and watching the door.
"uood evenin' luv."
It was a slender Terran girl, barely more than sixteen if appearances were to be believed, clad in a pink and black, very revealing dress. Thoroski's gaze flickered over her without interest. "Go away."
She slid into the seat beside him. "Now don't be rude, luv. I kin tell you're lonely." She reached for his hand.
Thoroski drew it deftly away. "Scram," he said.
Her knee nudged his beneath the table. "Aw, c'mon, officer. It's been a dull day an' I'm lookin' for a li'l company."
"Are you Patty?" he inquired harshly.
Her eyes widened. "You've heard o' me, I see." She smiled broadly. "It's all true, luv -- every bit. All you gotta do is tell me what you like." Her hand closed on his knee. "I deliver."
"Get lost." Thoroski finished his drink. "You'll get lots of company this evening, honey. The 'Leviathan' docked a while ago at the Chirill Patrol Base."
"I know." The girl laughed. "They're gonna be takin' that agent the Patrol caught to Corala. I heard it on the news."
"What?" Thoroski sat up. "What agent?"
Her eyes widened. "You ain't heard?"
He shook his head. The waiter appeared beside him, a bottle in his hand. Absently, Thoroski nodded, his attention now completely on Patty. "I haven't heard anything."
Patty pouted. "Ain'tcha gonna buy me a drink, luv? Y'know, in my business, I don't give nothin' away for nuthin'."
"Bring her a glass," Thoroski said abstractedly. "And leave the bottle."
Patty smiled seductively, her hand closing on his knee again. "I knew you'd see reason."
The waiter set a glass on the table and she picked up the bottle, filling the container to the brim.
"About this agent," Thoroski said. "What did you hear?"
Patty took a long drink. "It was all over the news about ten minutes ago. The Patrol picked up a li'l gal about three kilometers south o' here. She was hurt pretty bad, but they figured out who she is. Remember that big stink last year, about the Base Commander's daughter that got kidnapped by the Underground?"
"Commander Parnell's daughter?"
"Yeah, that was it. Lyn Parnell. She's supposed t'be Alan Westover's mistress. She's the one they got this evenin'."
Thoroski was silent, but his mind was racing. Patty raised the glass, drained it in three swallows and reached for the bottle again.
"Was Westover seen?" Thoroski asked casually.
Patty threw back her head and laughed. Thoroski noted that she had drained her second glass and was halfway into her third. Carefully, he drew the bottle away. "Well?"
"Nah." She shook her head, the loosely piled hair on her head beginning to fall across her forehead. "But they were there. The Patrol's sure of it. A bunch o' 'trols got killed inside the apartment house." She grinned hazily, reaching across the table for the bottle.
Cautiously, he poured her half a glass. It didn't matter so much now how drunk Patty got. He had most of the information he wanted. Announcing their plans for the prisoner was a standard Jilectan procedure. They must know that Westover and Linley would be after the Parnell girl, trying to rescue or kill her before she could be interrogated. But if the prisoner were badly hurt she would be transported to Corala, only twelve hours away, where the best doctors and hospitals were located. The "Leviathan" was the obvious means of transport, but the Patrol would be hoping to nab Westover, Linley or both in a rescue attempt before the ship departed.
Patty's hand moved up his leg. "Whatcha thinkin' about, luv?"
Four patrolmen entered the bar and sat down at a small, round table in the corner. Thoroski glanced over, recognizing two men from the "Leviathan". He looked quickly away, his mind still working furiously.
A high-profile member of the Terran Underground was a prisoner on the "Leviathan" -- or she would be, soon. And Strike Commander Thoroski was officially on leave. If he could manage to save Lyn Parnell, his admission to the Underground would be assured.
But could he pull it off?
Wilbur Parks entered the bar, accompanied by Patrolman Arnold Paine. The two were good friends, Thoroski knew, tending to think alike and enjoy the same pastimes, he supposed.
Thoroski's eyes focused suddenly on Parks and abruptly he realized something that he had hardly noticed before.
Wilbur Parks was physically a very good-looking individual. He had thick, brown hair, a strong, square jaw and a well-muscled frame. And he was almost exactly Thoroski's height, too. In fact, superficially, he looked very much like Thoroski, himself.
Patty was watching him and he noted with annoyance that her hand had now graduated to the inner aspect of his thigh. She smiled, leaning forward and revealing a generous amount of cleavage, and Thoroski realized that her apparent youth was deceptive.
"I ain't interested in that joker, luv. I've had him before, an' he's a real trencher. He's gonna come after me, too -- he always does." Her hand slid higher. "Save me from him, willya?"
Thoroski cussed to himself. Damn the girl! He didn't need this right now! On the other hand, Parks would undoubtedly manage to pick up another girl. Already one had slithered into the seat across from, her golden hair shining faintly blue in the lighting of the bar.
"He's looking at me," Patty whispered. "Save me, luv. I don't wanna wind up with him tonight. Please, mister?"
Thoroski stood up. "All right. Come on," he said roughly and took her hand.
They went through a narrow door at the rear of the bar and up a short flight of steps. Thoroski took his bags with him, carrying thm in one hand, his other clutched tightly by Patty. She opened a door and led him inside, fastening the latch behind them. He dropped his bags to the floor.
It was a small, bare room with a wooden floor and a dingy rag rug. Curtains were drawn across the window and a bed, made up with surprisingly clean sheets, stood in one corner. Patty put her hands on his shoulders, resting her head against his chest.
"Thanks, luv," she whispered. "I'll make it worth your while. I promise."
Thoroski stepped aside and went to the window, looking out.
Beneath was an alley -- a dark alley. He must leave no traces of who Parks' assailant was. He glanced back at Patty, who was seated on the bed, removing a pair of black net stockings. She smiled, beckoning at him. "C'mere, luv."
He turned to look out the window again, thinking quickly. Parks would undoubtedly pick up a girl from the bar in a while and ascend those stairs. If he could manage to --
Patty was standing behind him, her hands on his shoulders. "I'm a good listener if you got somethin' t'get off your shoulders, luv."
He turned suddenly and pulled her against his chest. She smiled at him again, beginning to unseal his uniform.
"That other guy," he said. "The one you said always comes after you?"
"Him?" She made a face. "What about him?"
"Why don't you like him?"
She sniffed and began to run her hands across his chest. "None o' the girls here like ol' Will, luv. Like I said before, he's a real trenchie."
Thoroski slid off his uniform top. "Think he'll be able to get himself a girl tonight?"
She shrugged, seating herself on the bed, and slipped the gown from her shoulders. "Depends. Since I ain't available, the boss'll probably order some poor kid to take my place." She made a face. "He likes the young ones, but nobody likes him." She lay down and turned on her side to look at Thoroski. "Thanks for savin' me from him. You won't regret it. I promise."
**********
tbc
