Defector: 10/?
by Nancy Smith and Linda Garrick
Kurt McDougal sat back in the driver's seat of the car, meeting with bland indifference the glare of the doctor passing on the walkway without. Everything was quiet.
Mark Linley and Kevin Bronson, sitting beside him on the broad seat of the Jilectan aircar, were watching the building expectantly. Lewis Stevens relaxed in the rear seat, taking full advantage of the luxurious accommodations for its noble owner.
"Hey," he announced after a moment or two of experimentation with the various control panels, "did you know there's a wine dispenser back here? Maybe we should sample His Lordship's vintages after this is all over."
"Let's wait until it *is* over before we celebrate," Linley said. "Good idea, though."
It was beginning to grow warmer as the morning advanced. Quivering heat waves rose off the pavement before them. Kurt reached out to increase the air conditioning. Bronson grinned, relaxing back in the seat as the air cooled off within seconds.
"Ah! This is the life! Trust the Jils to have the best. Patrol cars were never like this!"
"Too good for us low Terrans," Linley agreed.
Kurt snorted. Bronson and Linley had been patrolmen for nine and ten years respectively, and had put up with the aliens' airs and graces the entire time. He couldn't blame them for gloating a little.
Ten minutes passed. Heat waves rose shimmering from the pavement outside the car. People were emerging from the building, moving slowly in the growing heat. A maintenance truck appeared and parked in a space several meters ahead of them. Four men emerged, carrying tool kits, and strode briskly down the walkway in the opposite direction, to vanish around the corner. Another five minutes passed. Mark checked his chronometer once, and then again. A patrolman, obviously a guard, passed them, glancing resentfully at the car, and proceeded on. Lewis Stevens laughed.
"What?" Bronson asked.
"Oh, nothing much. He's mad at Revolthvor for taking the boss's spot. The guy had to park somewhere else and happened to pick that guy's place. He had to park eight blocks away and hike in, and was five minutes late."
Mark snorted. "Poor sap."
Silence fell. They sat still, watching the building. Linley glanced at his chronometer every few minutes, fidgeting.
"What the hell's holdin' 'em up?" Bronson asked of no one in particular. "What're they doin'?"
An aircar hummed past them on the surface of the street. Kevin moved convulsively. "What th --"
"What?"
"That was Thoroski!"
"Huh?"
"Sven Thoroski! He was my Strike Commander on the 'Leviathan!'"
The aircar was dwindling in the distance. Linley stared after it. "You must be imaginin' things."
"Like hell! I served with the guy for nearly a year and a half! He's the one that recommended me for promotion to subcommander! Tough as nails, but he was a helluva good guy. We used to go to the bars together when the ship was docked, and we'd pick up gals together, too. He used to go for the little dark ones, y'know. Me, I like redheads. We were good friends."
Kurt stared after the car, which had now vanished. "What would he be doing here, driving a Patrol car? He wasn't even dressed like a 'trol."
"I dunno," Kevin said.
Mark jumped suddenly, and Bronson mirrored him. "Alan!"
"What?" Stevens asked.
"Alan linked with us." Linley frowned. "He's scared, but not real bad. Wait --"
Several minutes went by and Linley and Bronson relaxed. "It's fadin' out," Bronson said. "Wonder what happened?"
"Dunno." Mark tapped impatient fingers on the car seat. "Wish they'd hurry up."
"Me, too." Bronson glanced at his chronometer.
An alarm went off in the building beside them.
**********
X
The door slid shut behind the Jilectan.
His Lordship was tall, even for one of the aliens, with pale, almost albino coloring. His cold, light grey eyes swept over the scene before him and settled on Griffen. "What is the meaning of this, Doctor?"
Alan moved to one side. He had to split the Jilectan's attention. It was a very old trick, but perhaps no one had ever tried it on one of the Jilectans before. "M'lord," he said.
The Jilectan turned toward him. Alan moved another step backwards and to the left. "M'lord," he stammered, "I...."
The alien reached out suddenly and caught him beneath the chin, snapping his face up. Recognition leaped into his face and his hand moved like lightening toward the blaster at his hip.
Griffen's blaster cracked and the Jilectan was flung forward to land heavily on top of Alan.
"Oh man!" Griffen helped Alan push the alien aside. "Oh man, I've joined the club! Let's get out of here, fast!"
Alan got to his feet and Griffen pressed the button beside the door, letting Alan exit first. They stepped through, and allowed the panel to slide shut behind them. As the door closed, the lights flickered and then the normal lighting came back on.
The two guards were no longer lounging before the door. Instead, they were at rigid attention, their visored faces staring straight ahead. Griffen sighed, wiping his forehead. "Man! That Jil scared me half out of my skin!"
One of the patrolmen grinned, but didn't relax his pose. "Yeah; that's Chalthzor from the 'Leviathan.' Real trencher. How long's he gonna be?"
"Don't know. He was trying to read her and not getting anywhere yet. We got out while the getting was good. See you."
"Yeah." The guards remained at attention as Alan and Griffen hurried toward the lift.
"Hurry!" Griffen said in an undertone.
They stopped at the lift and waited. Alan's neck was crawling. The confusion at the end of the corridor was beginning to die down, he saw. Apparently the electrical fire in Security was being brought under control. Any minute now, someone was going to remember the prisoner and decide to check, and then the fat would be in the fire, especially if they got their surveillance system going again.
The lift finally arrived and they boarded. The car was empty, to Alan's great relief, and he selected the first level, hoping fervently that no one else would wish to use the lift so soon after the power was restored.
"What do you suppose happened to her?" he asked.
Griffen shrugged. "I don't know. Something strange is going on, that's for sure. What do you bet that fire in Security was no accident?"
"Probably not," Alan agreed. "But who set it up? Lyn? Did she escape, do you suppose, or is someone trying to get her free?"
"I don't know. If it is, it's somebody that knows the ropes. The guards didn't suspect anything, and you can bet the Jil didn't, or he'd never have risked his sacred hide by going in there."
"That's for sure."
The lift came to a stop on the second level and the doors opened to admit two men in Patrol uniforms. As they stepped within, an alarm went off.
The second man to enter caught the door. "Damn that damned Underground! Out, quick, or we'll be stuck here for hours!"
Alan and Griffen disembarked with them. People were milling around in confusion as they stepped into the hall. Patrolmen materialized from doorways and at least a dozen came pouring out of the hospital coffee shop. They headed for the stairway at a run and Alan and Griffen followed.
They went through the door marked "STAIRS" and found themselves in the midst of a mob of hurrying patrolmen, most of them going upward toward the prison level. Griffen and Alan oozed their way down, trying to stay close to the banister as the masses of humanity and a few non-humans hurried by them.
Eventually, they reached the main lobby. People were hurrying everywhere, swarming toward the stairway and door. There was milling confusion at the main entrance as three patrolmen tried to hold back the crowd. Alan and Griffen strode toward the exit.
A loudspeaker boomed deafeningly. "Attention, attention! The Underground prisoner has escaped! No one is to leave the building until further notice, by order of Commander Markham!"
Alan was beside the nearer patrolman. Indiscernible in the milling mob, he shoved the muzzle of his blaster against the man's side and fired. There was the soft hum of a stunbolt and the patrolman wilted. Griffen's weapon hummed a second later and another patrolman fell. Alan swung his blaster to the third man, seated on the floor, and fired a second time. Someone in the crowd shouted hoarsely and there was sudden and panicky movement away from the two fugitives. Griffen flipped his blaster to emergency maximum, covering the crowd. "Go, Gregson!" he snapped.
Alan bolted through the doors, followed closely by Griffen. The doors slid shut behind them and no one in the mob seemed inclined to pursue as they ran down the steps.
Black and scarlet clad figures were charging toward them up the walk, and there was a short flurry of blaster fire. The Jilectan aircar lifted and soared toward them over the heads of the patrolmen. Blaster fire from the windows sent the men below scattering. Alan and Griffen ran toward it.
A stunbolt hummed, and Alan felt the electrical tingle brush his legs. His knees gave, and he pitched forward down the three remaining steps. He had a split second's impression of the rock border surrounding the flowerbed rushing toward him, and then the world exploded into a blaze of stars. The lights went out.
**********
Ronald Griffen saw Alan hit and heard the crack as his head struck the rock border of the flowerbed. The patrolmen were scattering. Some of them were firing at the aircar; others hesitated, obviously fearing that the noble owner was still inside. He bounded down the remaining steps and scooped Alan up in one arm, firing over his shoulder at the crowd of patrolman at almost the same time. The aircar descended suddenly beside him, shielding him from the blaster fire, and the rear door was wide open. He scrambled into the rear seat. The door slid shut as the car accelerated upward so sharply that he almost fell on his face in Lewis Stevens' lap. Kurt poured on the power and the car roared away to the west, gaining altitude as it went.
Patrol cars were rushing in from all sides, closing rapidly. Griffen peered out the rear window. "Step on it, Kurt."
"I am," Kurt said. "How's Alan?"
Lewis Stevens, whose professional credentials included the title of medical technician, was bending over him. "Concussion, I think, and...." He frowned, concentrating. "I'm not sure, but he may have a hairline fracture. His nose is bleeding."
"Great." Griffen pulled the safety webbing over his lap, glancing as he did so at the front seat of the aircar. Mark Linley was sprawled across the seat, face down, and Bronson lay on the floor. "What the hell happened to them? Were they hit?"
"In a manner of speaking." Stevens glanced over his shoulder at Alan's power packs before turning back to Alan. "Alan was linked with them when he slammed into that rock. He must have hit pretty hard, because they both yelled his name at once and collapsed. Mark's only done this once before, when Alan was in that wreck over Kuloghi and nearly killed."
"See if you can wake them up," Kurt said. "They're coming at us from both sides. What the devil am I going to do?"
Griffen unfastened his safety webbing and leaned over the seat to shake Linley's shoulder. "Mark! Snap out of it! We need some help!"
Linley groaned. Bronson echoed him.
"Wake up!" Griffen repeated, shaking Linley's shoulder again.
Mark groaned again and opened his eyes. "Alan?"
"He's right here," Stevens said. "For the love of Pete, wake up!"
Kurt McDougal reached forward suddenly and touched the button on the car's communicator. "Attention all Patrol cars! I am the Underground agent presently piloting Lord Revolthvor's aircar. If you chase me, I will run, and if I run too fast it is possible I might have an accident. That would be most unfortunate for Lord Revolthvor, who is in the trunk of this vehicle."
Linley pushed himself slowly into a sitting position, blinking and looking dazed. "W'happened?"
"Alan hit his head on a rock," Griffen said. "He's out cold."
Linley twisted to peer at his partner. "Is he all right?"
"He's alive," Lewis said. "Right now we've got other problems."
"They're falling back," Kurt reported. "They don't want to hurt their precious Jil. Besides, this is a pretty souped up heap."
Bronson's eyes were open, and he rubbed his head. "Ouch! Dammit, what hit me?"
Linley leaned forward to examine the scanners. "Yeah, they're fallin' back, but you can bet every 'trol on the planet is gonna be trackin' us soon, if they ain't now."
"Where'll we go?" Stevens asked. "We can't head for the station."
"Call Matt and tell him to meet us at the ship," Griffen said. "Tell him to have it warmed up and ready. If we're fast enough we can take off before they can stop us."
"Tell 'em to have a couple of interceptors ready to hold off anybody that gets too close 'til we can go to hyperspace," Mark said. He was leaning over the back of the seat to watch his partner. "Is he gonna be all right, Lew?"
"I think so. The quicker we get him to Matt, the better, though." Stevens expression became distant for a long minute. "He'll be waiting, with the escape craft hatch open."
"Good. Hit it, Kurt."
"I am," McDougal said.
"Is Alan okay?" Bronson inquired, rubbing his head. "Damn, whatta headache!"
It was perhaps ten minutes later that they dived over the mountain range toward the spot where the scout ship waited. Some distance away the patrol cars followed and Griffen gritted his teeth, acutely aware that their chances of escape hung by a thread. As promised the hatch for the escape craft hangar was wide open. Kurt slowed only minimally to negotiate the entryway, and Griffen winced at the screech of metal on metal as the door of the limousine barely kissed the edge of the opening. Kurt braked hard enough that Griffen was sure they were going to crash into the forward bulkhead, but they didn't. McDougal shut off the engine and they were all thrown back in their seats as the ship surged upward. Matt must have cut in the repulsers at full strength before they cleared the trees, Griffen thought, as the weight of a Terran elephant descended mightily on his chest. He struggled to breathe for several seconds before the artificial gravity kicked in, and he heard someone take a harsh, crowing breath.
"Man!" Bronson's voice said. "And they say *Alan* flies like a lunatic!"
"Alan's a damn good pilot," Mark said. "How's he doin', Lew?"
"His vitals are stable," Stevens said. "Wait 'til we go into hyperspace and we'll get him to Matt."
"We should probably get Revolthvor out of the trunk," Kurt said, offhandedly. "We promised he'd survive this. And the chauffeur, too."
"We will," Linley said. "Take care of it, willya, Ron?"
Griffen groaned silently to himself. "I'm going to get a hernia at this rate."
"Naw," Linley said absently. "Get a couple o' the antigrav units an' strap 'em onto him. It'll be fine."
"Stay where you are for a minute," Matt Philips' voice said suddenly from the intercom. "We've got a scout ship after us. They must not have had anybody else in range. Hyperspace, two minutes."
They were silent as the seconds ticked away, and the jolt that announced their entry into hyperspace was the signal for the motionless group to go into action. Linley hit the control that opened the car doors and jumped out. "I'll take him," he told Lewis Stevens. "You guys help with the Jil."
**********
A short time later, Alan had been stretched out on one of the bunks in the tiny medical cabin of the scout. Matt Philips and Lewis Stevens were working over him, and they had left the door open to reassure Mark and Kevin somewhat. Matt Philips ran a small instrument over Alan's forehead and swore under his breath.
"What?"
"He's got a hairline skull fracture. He'll be okay, but he's definitely out of the running for a while. What happened?"
Griffen sank down in one of the seats in the passenger cabin. "It was a pretty weird situation," he began, and proceeded to describe what had happened at the base hospital. The others listened attentively until he finished.
Finally, Bronson spoke. "So she either escaped, or somebody rescued her. Do you think it was a setup?"
Griffen shook his head. "I did at first, but I don't now. Alan never did. He said she'd been there."
Matt Philips looked up from his patient. "What about her ring, Lew? Do you think you could trace her with it?"
After Alan Westover and Eric Vogleman, Stevens was one of the best psychic tracers at the Lavirra Base. He shrugged. "I can try. Do you have it?"
"Julia gave it to me when we left, just in case." Philips handed his partner the ring. It was a slender, golden band with a sparkling blue diamond. Stevens frowned at the object.
"Yeah, I think I can do it," he said finally. "We're going to have to get back onto the planet."
"They won't be expectin' us to come right back," Mark said. "I'm gonna take us in through the northern aurora. We'll be on the ground again in an hour." He got to his feet and started toward the control room. "C'mon, Ron. You can copilot." He glanced at Matt Philips, who had emerged from the tiny medical unit. "You're sure he's gonna be okay?"
"I'm sure, Mark."
"Okay. We're gonna get his girl back for him. Let's move."
**********
tbc
