Artifact: 5/?
by Nancy Smith and Linda Garrick
Lady Tranthzill's car headed for the coordinates given by Linthvar. She was many kilometers south of his location and considerable time would be wasted getting there, but she needed that time to think.
She frowned at the long, white fingers clasped in her lap. The perfectly manicured nails were painted green to match her gown, and tiny gems glittered in the enamel. She noted with mild annoyance that she had acquired a small nick in one nail, then dismissed the matter. Her manicurist could repair it this evening. Other things were far more pressing.
Something was quite wrong here. She had never known Linthvar to actively seek her company. His attitude toward her sex was more than evident and his contempt for her was exceeded only by hers for him. Why did he desire her company? The business of the Patrol aircars bothered her. Harathvor's face floated insubstantially before her eyes. He had sent her here with too few patrolmen to see to the capture of Terran psychics -- a situation fraught with possibilities if the Terran Underground were to appear on the scene, which they all too frequently did, and had conveniently done this time. A little too conveniently? That was something to investigate upon her return. And Harathvor always liked to -- what was that apt Terran phrase? -- hedge his bets. Why should he not send Linthvar along with promises of power and status if she was not to return alive?
She leaned forward. "Zaggar!"
"M'lady?"
"Contact the searching aircars. I want an escort. They are to accompany me."
That should stymie her dear cousin's plan for now. Then she would let him try his little plan ... at a time and place of her choosing. Harathvor had overreached himself, and set himself up for a fall in his choice of such a doubtful tool as Linthvar. Two could engage in court intrigue -- and none knew the game better than she.
The canyon rolled beneath her, the magnificent evergreens, the untamed river, the rock walls, their strata telling in vivid bands of color the story of ages gone by. This planet must be secured for the Autonomy! she vowed. Her people could utilize its magnificent resources far more efficiently than the Terran colonists ever would. Mass invasion, however would not be the answer. The Bellian affair had proven that. It would provoke the very thing the Autonomy sought to avoid -- destructive, interstellar war. But when the Autonomy at last absorbed the Terran Confederation this world would be theirs. A beautiful, unspoiled world, able to accommodate several billion of her species, once the Terran vermin were subjugated properly. Then the resources of Midgard would be free to tap -- the lumber, the power, the deposits of minerals that secret reports said were abundant. Cities would rise here where the giant trees now stood, and the exploding population of her species would have another world to exploit and populate. A pity that all this grandeur must be destroyed, but the needs of her people, as always, came first.
What happened next she was not certain of until later, when there was time to sort it all out. It was as if a brilliant light had burst in her brain with an explosion that rattled her teeth. Almost by reflex she found herself gripping the blaster, never able to recall later grabbing it. The Arcturian hadn't turned his head, and after a moment to quiet her heartbeat she slid the sidearm back into its holster.
What had happened? What had that been? She closed her eyes, bringing back the memory. That had been a bolt of energy -- psychic energy. But it hadn't been aimed at her. She had only been -- how did the Terrans put it? -- caught in the fallout. If her shields had been up she'd not have been aware of it at all, and non-psychics would, she had little doubt, notice nothing unless they were close by the target. The bolt had affected her; a non-psychic close by the actual target would doubtless be dead, his synapses destroyed.
Surprised, now, she realized her shields were up tightly, and she hadn't been aware of the fact for several minutes.
That bolt; could it have been the Terran psychics? If so, then she had badly underestimated them! A very few of her own species had that particular talent, and its use weakened them seriously for hours. Or could the attack be the danger she had sensed earlier? A ... what? A psychic of some species other than Terran or Jilectan?
Only one other life form she knew of was capable of that! Those never to be sufficiently cursed globe parasites!
Well, she was warned, now! And the creatures were ineffective against a shielded psychic! Now she could defend herself.
But that blow, if intended for her, had completely missed its mark. And she still had Linthvar to deal with. In a way, perhaps this was to the good. She would approach with her shields raised.
Two Patrol aircars joined her as the car flew across the search area, a place where the forest gave way to short, stubby growth, and the canyon and river narrowed. There had been a landslide here within the last few years as well. Ahead, the trees began again suddenly, marching in a nearly straight line across the canyon. An odd phenomenon, she reflected.
The spot lay ahead where Linthvar awaited, an open area among the enormous trees. They approached the clearing; she could see Linthvar's vehicle parked in its center. But there was something wrong with it. Then, as Zaggar lowered the limousine to the forest floor, she saw what it was. The driver's door gaped open and Linthvar's Terran chauffeur lay sprawled on his back on the ground.
For a long moment, she surveyed the scene. Nothing moved except the falling rain and, at the edge of her vision, the Patrol cars circling overhead, providing air cover. They remained silent; there was nothing to report from above.
"What should I do, M'lady?" Zaggar asked after a moment.
She decided. "I am getting out."
"Yes, M'lady." The Arcturian opened his door, hopped nimbly out, and opened her door with a flourish, but Tranthzill did not fail to note that one clawed hand remained close to the blaster in its concealed shoulder holster.
Tranthzill gathered her robes about her and stepped out, an umbrella held in one white hand. She did not glance at the Arcturian. "Be alert, Zaggar."
"Yes, M'lady."
With a long stride that disdained the mud and wet evergreen needles underfoot, she strode to the chauffeur. The man was unquestionably dead, without a mark on him. She confirmed that by turning him over to examine his back as well.
No wounds. Swiftly she turned and jerked open the rear door of Linthvar's car. It would be too much, she told herself firmly, to indulge in the hope that her traitorous cousin was also dead. But one could dream.
She was, all the same, conscious of a faint sensation of disappointment when she saw her cousin. Vacant eyed and slack jawed, he was nevertheless, breathing, and upon testing, she found his mind shields tightly closed. Whatever had attacked had left no outer marks. That psychic bolt she had detected before had been aimed at Linthvar. Her wretched cousin must have gotten his shields up almost too late. Unfortunate, she mused, regretfully, but there was no sense weeping over it.
Her preoccupation with Linthvar's condition was almost her undoing. The sense of imminent danger snapped her back to the realities about her in time to raise her shields.
And a good thing, too, for this time the blow was aimed at her and no one else.
It felt as though someone had hit her with a sledgehammer. An explosion of light in her brain, pain bursting through her mind. She thought she screamed.
She was on her knees in the wet evergreen needles, still clutching the umbrella. Zaggar had rushed to her side and was shouting her name. She gestured him silent and rose to her feet, trembling but unassisted.
That bolt of psychic energy had come from neither Jilectan nor Terran! Neither could have recovered from the first in time to launch the second, so quickly. She glanced about the clearing and raised her wrist chronometer, which also carried the communicator, to her lips.
"Sublieutenant Terry!"
Nothing. No answer. The aircars continued to circle.
Tranthzill glanced thoughtfully at the dead chauffeur and tried again. "Sergeant Anderson! Respond!"
Again nothing. Tranthzill wasted no more time. "Zaggar," she commanded, "take the limousine back to our camp. I shall bring my unfortunate cousin's car to meet you there."
The Arcturian was well-trained, and did not argue, but surprise registered on his scaled features. With a short, half-bow he turned and strode back to Tranthzill's vehicle. Tranthzill slammed Linthvar's door and climbed into the front seat, shutting the door firmly behind her. With the economical skill of a veteran driver, for unlike many nobles, who never bothered to learn, Tranthzill could drive, she started the engine and rose smartly into the sky after Zaggar. Dodging one of the Patrol vehicles in her path, she turned the car north. The clearing fell away beneath her.
**********
XI
The six students paused on a shelf of rock perhaps a tenth of the way down the cliff. The going had been rough, although the slide area wasn't all that impossible, because the rocks were wet and slippery from the rain and snow mixture which fell slushily about them, and all of them were wet and cold, hands and fingers numb and shaking with the chill. Hildebrand was beginning to think they might have made their first serious error. The shelf on which they sat was perhaps two meters wide and ten long -- more than room enough for all of them. He toyed briefly with the idea of waiting where they were until the storm let up, but regretfully abandoned the idea. It was too cold, and this storm could go on for a day or two. They'd be dead of exposure by then.
Even Candy was too tired to sulk. She sat with her eyes closed, leaning back against the rock wall of the cliff.
It was, as usual, Maureen who discovered the cave. The ledge turned an angle and beyond it rose gradually, dwindling to a mere irregularity in the rock wall. Hildebrand saw the tall girl poke her head around the angle, then squeeze past it, to edge along the surface. After a few steps she disappeared.
"Maureen!" Lara called, anxiously, "what are you doing?"
"Looking for a better way down," her voice came drifting back to them, faint in the wind. "Hey! Look at this!"
"What is it?" Jack Gorman didn't sound very interested. Hildebrand knew better. When Maureen sounded like that it was usually worth finding out why. He stuck his head around the angle. Maureen was barely visible past another curve in the rock wall. She was pulling at a huge curtain of dead creepers and weeping grass. It came away in tufts and chunks, drifting down into the canyon depths. Behind it, running sharply back into the cliff, was a narrow fissure, taller than a Jilectan's head.
"It's a cave!"
"A cave!" four voices exclaimed at once. It didn't strike Hildebrand until later that no one so much as tried to discuss the next action. Maureen was already crawling into the opening as Hildebrand squeezed around the angle, and within ninety seconds all six of them were standing in the narrow, dark tunnel, out of the wind and rain.
Hildebrand dropped to the cave floor, leaning back against the smooth wall behind him. The others settled down around him. For several moments there was nothing but silence as they rested.
Then, gradually, Hildebrand became aware of something out of place. It took him several minutes to put his finger on it.
The walls were as smooth as satin beneath his hands as he felt around in the dimness. No rubble or irregularities beneath his feet; it didn't really even feel like rock to him, but sort of a smooth, almost plastic substance. He was still testing the feel of the surface beneath his fingers when he realized something else.
He was warm. A soft breeze drifted past him, not from outside, but from within the tunnel, outward. And it was warm. Comfortably warm.
He sniffed. There was no particular scent, just air, but warm air.
Cautiously, uncertain of what he had found, Hildebrand rose to his feet and moved slowly down the narrow space in which they sat toward the source of that warmth.
The tunnel was perhaps two meters wide, and the wall remained smooth under his hands. The ground stayed level beneath his feet, almost like ... He stopped suddenly. Almost like a floor.
"Where are you going, Brand?" Lara's voice came from behind him.
"Shh." He spoke softly as she came up beside him. "Lara, this isn't a cave -- it's a tunnel -- and it's not natural!"
"Huh?" Jack Gorman's voice sounded loud in the sudden silence. "What are you talking about?"
"It's warm in here," Maureen said, softly. "And the walls are smooth."
Gary Montez spoke in a whisper. ""What do you suppose it is?"
"I don't know." Hildebrand whispered his reply. "Whatever it is, I don't think people are supposed to know about it. Maybe that's why we saw the Patrol cars, yesterday."
"A secret Jilectan base on Midgard?" Lara wondered, after a moment.
Nobody answered. "What are you going to do?" Maureen asked, into the silence.
Hildebrand swallowed. "I think we better go look," he said, sounding a lot firmer than he felt. "If the Jils are building something like this on Midgard, they might be planning an invasion or something. Remember the mass execution on Velara II? Everybody knows the real reason for that was that the Jils wanted it for a colony."
"I thought," Lara ventured, uncertainly, "that it was because the Terran Underground had infiltrated the colony."
"Right," Gary Montez said, scathingly. "And I'm the Viceroy's maiden aunt. They had to have a reason for it, that's all -- one that we couldn't disprove. Those so-called 'reasons' get thinner every time."
"Yeah, but that was only one colony -- no more than five or six hundred people," Jack protested. "They couldn't do that on Midgard!"
"Would you care to make a small bet on that?" Maureen asked, softly.
There was a long silence.
"Maybe we better go see," Jack said.
They shuffled a little uncertainly, then Hildebrand started on again, one hand on the smooth wall as a guide, for as they moved further into the tunnel the light became dimmer until they were walking in virtual blackness. Behind him he could hear the scraping footsteps of the others.
All at once he came to a corner and stopped. Lara promptly ran into him. He waited until everyone had come to a halt.
"There's a corner here," he informed them in a whisper. "Just a minute."
Candy said suddenly. "I'm not going one step farther. If you guys want to play Agents of the Spaceways, you go right ahead."
"Fine," her brother said, with appalling alacrity. "You go back to the ledge and wait for us. We don't mind."
Candy sniffed, but there was no sign of her retreating footsteps.
Hildebrand poked one eye around the corner. Blackness met his gaze, but far ahead, an oblong patch of greyness was barely visible. Nothing stirred. He moved quietly forward, and the others followed.
**********
Matt Philips and Lyla Cane waited as the Jilectan aircars vanished over the trees. Lyla looked up at the circling Patrol vehicles.
"Do you think --" she began.
Philips nodded silently. The bolt aimed at the Jilectan had felt like a mental earthquake to his shielded mind. The unshielded minds of the patrolmen must have crumpled like rotten wood. What creatures in the galaxy could wield such mental power? One of the globes? He didn't think so. In all his experience he'd never known one of the psychic parasites to be capable of this. They could strike with mental bolts, even kill with them, but the damage was limited to their target, not innocent bystanders, too. This thing -- whatever it was -- just simply had too much raw power to be one of the globes.
They remained standing, staring at the circling aircars and the body lying in the clearing for several minutes, then Matt shook himself.
"Let's go," he said.
They started northward again. Philips was feeling edgy. If that blasted female Jil hadn't taken Linthvar's car they would have been on their way out by now. It was just their luck to run into one self-sufficient enough to be able to drive. Who the dickens was she, anyhow? Judging by the insignia she was a member of the Viceroy's family. One of Halthzor's wives? No, when he'd first seen her he'd felt a chill down his back at her close resemblance to the ruler. She was almost certainly a sister -- probably a full-blood sister. That coppery red hair had come from Halthzor's mother, if Philips remembered correctly. His father, the late Lord Palthzor, had been a pale, silver blond.
Suddenly he knew who it had to be. This must be Tranthzill, the Assistant Chief of Viceregal Intelligence -- and almost certainly Chief within five years, according to their own intelligence reports. The Lady had a reputation for brains and ruthlessness, as well as an almost uncanny ability to earn and keep the loyalty and respect of her servants. That last was true, judging by the conduct of her Arcturian chauffeur. Philips had seen real concern there. And any Jilectan Lady who used an Arcturian as her chauffeur was unusual anyway. Few Jils would willingly hire one, but, if one had his loyalty, an Arcturian could be a real asset to an ambitious Lord or Lady.
Philips swore under his breath. All he needed just now was Tranthzill, of all possible Jilectans, to deal with. She never gave up. Lyla hadn't been far off when she'd predicted the Viceroy waiting for them.
Lyla gasped and seized his arm.
"Matt!" she whispered.
A needle beam sizzled the wet vegetation at their feet. Matt Philips froze.
A soft, yet penetrating voice spoke, cutting through the patter of falling rain like the clear tone of a bell.
"Drop your weapons, Terrans. If you so much as breathe in a way I don't like, you fry."
The words were spoken in clear, precise Terran English with the curious, almost sing-song quality of the Jilectan language.
Carefully, Philips dropped the Patrol blaster to the ground. Beside him, Lyla dropped the pulse rifle and, a second later, her blaster as well.
"Put your hands on your heads," the clear metallic voice ordered, "and walk toward me."
They obeyed. There was nothing else to do.
The Jilectan Lady was standing four meters ahead and to the right, a Jilectan blaster -- not the utilitarian Patrol model -- in her hands. The tiny gems in her nail enamel winked at Philips in the subdued light.
Lyla glanced at him expressionlessly, and he somehow read the question in that look. Now what?
He felt a flash of pride in her. What a companion Lyla was! Even in this most desperate of circumstances she never lost her head, scared as she must be. He managed an infinitesimal shrug, hoping she would read his message in it. Watch for your opportunity.
Tranthzill surveyed them narrowly, her pale grey eyes shrewd and calculating. "You -- the male!" she snapped. "Remove the blaster from your shoulder holster!"
Very slowly, Philips obeyed. His blaster thumped to the ground.
Lyla spoke. "How did you find us?"
"Silence." Tranthzill gestured with the nose of her blaster. "Walk that way."
They did so. After several moments Linthvar's aircar, with Linthvar in it, came into view.
"Get in," Tranthzill said. "The female in back, the male behind the controls."
They obeyed. The Jilectan clambered into the front seat beside Philips, her blaster trained unwaveringly on him. She surveyed them coolly. "In answer to your question, woman, I knew you had been in the clearing from the condition of the aircar. My dearest cousin would never have allowed fresh mud on either the floor or the seat. And if, as my men believed, you were farther south earlier then you were heading north. I simply waited for you."
Logical, Philips thought, bleakly. Extremely logical.
The Jilectan was studying them, but had given no order. He sat still, his hands resting motionless in his lap.
"You are a doctor?" The chill, metallic tones made him jump; then he realized that the alien was addressing Lyla.
"Yes."
"Examine my cousin."
Lyla appeared startled. "I don't know much about Jilectan physiology. Just what I've read."
"I require your opinion of his condition, woman." The Jilectan's voice was about as warm as the weather outside. "Examine him."
Lyla did not reply, but proceeded to make as thorough an examination as she could without proper instruments. As she was finishing, Tranthzill opened what must be the Jilectan car's glove compartment and extracted a small portascanner -- standard equipment for exploration teams in unfamiliar territory. She tossed it into Lyla's lap.
"I wish to know the condition of my cousin's brain as well."
Lyla regarded the portascanner dubiously. "I'll try. I'm not sure a generalized device like this will give a very clear picture."
Philips watched as she ran it over Linthvar and frowned at the reading. Her eyebrows rose.
"What do you read, Terran?" the Lady demanded, sharply.
Lyla hesitated. "In a Terran, I'd say severe trauma to the brain synapses. It should heal in time."
Tranthzill took the device. "My dearest cousin is more fortunate than he deserves," she said, dryly. "What was the cause of his condition?"
"Well--" Lyla hesitated, glancing uncertainly at Philips. "I'm not a neurologist, but as an educated guess, I'd say that psychic bolt was the cause."
"As I thought. And what was the cause of the bolt?"
Lyla looked again at Philips. He spoke. "We don't know."
The Jilectan raised a skeptical brow, but said nothing more. Instead she looked back at Lyla. "Where is the third?"
"I beg your pardon?" Lyla stammered.
"The third Terran. The boy. Where is he?"
A light dawned in Philips' brain. Lyla started to speak, but he cut her off.
"We were separated in the mountains."
Lyla gave him an odd look, but shut her mouth. The Jilectan surveyed him narrowly.
"And, of course, you had a rendezvous point?" she suggested, silkily.
"No!" Lyla said, with unnecessary emphasis. "He and I don't know this area at all, M'lady."
"And there was no one to meet you?" the Jilectan inquired.
"Yes," Philips said , "but not right away. We were to lay low and wait until the Patrol left. We had a hideaway, but then we sensed danger and decided to leave. That's the truth!"
The Jilectan's hand moved with the speed of a striking snake; the slap rattled his teeth, and for an instant Philips saw stars.
His vision cleared. He saw the Jilectan's blaster trained on Lyla.
"Do not move, Terran psychic," the Jilectan was saying icily. "I do not brook defiance, nor am I a fool."
Philips saw Lyla settle back in her seat. The Jilectan turned to him. "You must believe me to be as foolish as my dearest cousin Linthvar, if you expect me to believe your lies, Terran. The boy awaits you ahead. Lift the car above the trees and turn north."
"No, M'lady!" Lyla protested, and the note of desperation in her voice told Phillips that she had guessed at least part of his plan. If the situation hadn't been so serious, he would have smiled. "My son didn't come with us at all. He left in my aircar for Asgard! He --"
"Silence, Terran." The Jilectan's voice held no expression. "We shall go see. Make no move against me or the male dies."
Lyla fell silent. Philips started the engine and lifted the vehicle into the sky. The ground dropped away, and in only a few seconds, they were at treetop level. Philips turned the car north.
He and Lyla had managed to delay things for the moment. Lady Tranthzill believed they were trying to protect Lyla's son, and perhaps someone come to pick them up as well. How long they could continue to confuse the situation he didn't know, but any time gained was an asset. Lewis would surely be here before too long.
Speaking of Lewis, where the hell was he, anyway? Philips didn't dare try to call him. On their private communications line the Jil most likely wouldn't pick him up -- but then, again, she might. Lewis would probably already know that he was in trouble, though. So where was he?
And, of course, there was one other very real reason why he didn't dare lower his shields. The other mind. The source of the psychic bolts.
The sense of danger had not diminished, but Philips had the definite sensation now, that it was not aimed at them. It was still there, all right, but it seemed ... uninterested in them at the moment, as if its attention was elsewhere. But the Jil ...
He wondered if it had the Jil pinpointed right now.
As he thought it, he realized it was true. The psychic mind had pinpointed her earlier when it had tried to kill her, and it had not lost her. It was waiting for her to come closer.
Closer? A thrill of alarm prickled across his scalp at the realization. That was exactly what was happening. It had learned that it could not kill the Jilectan through her shields -- at least not at that distance. And it was north of them now. They were heading straight for it.
For an instant horror held him motionless. Then he became aware that the Lady was watching him closely, finely chiseled features without expression -- or was there the faintest hint of satisfaction there?
He didn't know. How could he explain the danger to her? It was clear that she did not even sense as much of the other mind as he and Lyla did. Lyla had sensed the personality first, through her shields; now he was picking it up, too. But Tranthzill wasn't -- not yet, anyway. Perhaps she would as they got closer, but if he tried to warn her now, she wasn't likely to believe him.
Well, why should he warn her? Empathy aside, this might give Lyla and him their chance. She was expecting Harry Cane, not the ... whatever it was.
Which led to the question of why the thing had struck at Linthvar and Tranthzill, and not at the human psychics. True, their shielding had been constantly in place, but he didn't think that was the reason. If they could sense it through their shielding, then it could sense them. That was undoubtedly the source of the sense of observation. The other psychic must be a powerful telepath to even partially breach their tightly held shields.
Perhaps the reason was simpler -- something so fundamental that he hadn't considered it. Telepathic wavelengths differed, as all telepaths knew. Individuals of the same species had minor differences, but the differences between species were something else entirely. Terran and Jilectan wavelengths overlapped but did not exactly match. No Terran would ever mistake the mind of a Jil for the mind of a Terran. The small overlap between the two species was one reason Jilectans could not normally sense Terran psychics unless actively looking for them. Jilectan telepathic reception was also considerably less acute than a Terran's--which was a contributing factor. Linthvar's range must be somewhat wider and possibly his receptive ability was keener as well than the ordinary Jilectan, which would explain why he found it easier to sense Terran psychics than others of his species. The same situation might apply here. It could explain why Tranthzill had trouble sensing the enemy psychic and perhaps even why it had not attacked them. What if human telepathic wavelength and that of the unknown psychic matched more closely? With only partial contact, as existed with their shields up, it might not be certain that he and Lyla were not of its own species. Of course, that was sheer speculation, but the fact remained that they had not been attacked. Yet.
Firmly quelling his instinctive, empathic sympathy for the Jilectan, Philips hardened his heart. To this creature he and Lyla were nothing but animals -- albeit dangerous animals -- to be destroyed at her pleasure, as others of her kind had caused the deaths of Anna and Lyla's husband, Harris. He owed her nothing. Let her defend herself, as Lyla and he must do. At the very least, it might give them a fighting chance.
Ahead, the Frost Giants' Cascade had become visible, a kilometer width of white, tumbling water that slipped smoothly over the lip of Hel's Canyon, to plunge a dizzy four kilometers into space, misted in spray whipped about by the wind like the lace in a bridal train, only to break into a thunderous chaos of foam on the rocks below.
As they came nearer, Philips could see evidence of another slide to the left of the falls, as if the entire rock wall had been evenly sliced away, leaving the cliff wall stark and bare. It would not be visible from above except from the south, for the cliff slanted outward as it rose, forming an overhang of rock. But there, honeycombed in that bare wall, were caves.
Tranthzill was also surveying the riveting sight. She licked her rouged lips, half in anticipation, Philips thought. He was only marginally aware that Lyla had bent for an instant in the rear seat, then straightened. Tranthzill paid no attention. She was looking at the caves, half her attention on Philips and half on the small column of smoke rising from the mouth of one about halfway up the cliffside.
"There, Terran," she directed. "Take us there."
"M'lady --" he began, halfheartedly, then forced himself to silence. The Jilectan thought Harry was awaiting them, that she could, no doubt, control him by virtue of the fact that she held his mother prisoner. But what was that smoke doing there?
As he watched, the column disappeared, fading into the mist and rain. Whoever had lit the fire must have seen them, put out his campfire.
Campfire? he asked himself suddenly. Something was wrong here -- terribly wrong. Who would build a campfire here, now? Philips almost bit his tongue as he turned the Jilectan limousine toward the cave. It had to be a trap.
The cave grew larger as they approached: a huge yawning opening in the sheer cliff. The entrance was very symmetrical, an almost perfect arch cut in the flat, bare wall of stone. The floor of the cave was quite smooth from what Philips could see of it, littered only slightly by fragments of loose rock. At the very entrance was the scattered remains of a campfire. Whoever had kindled the fire was no longer in evidence.
Philips stared at the scene, holding the car on hover, aware of a feeling of -- of what? Vagueness? Unreality! That was the word. He had a distinct reluctance to approach it more closely.
The Jilectan also stared, with narrowed, suspicious eyes.
"Who is there?" she demanded of Lyla. "Your son?"
Lyla hesitated, then answered, a troubled look in her green eyes. "I don't know, M'lady."
Tranthzill regarded her for a moment, then appeared to make a decision. "Move into the cave."
Philips restrained his instinctive protest and inched the car forward. The cave mouth yawned, black and forbidding, and without waiting to be told he triggered the lights.
The sense of unreality heightened as the dark tunnel walls were illuminated. Something about this scene did not ring true. He squinted, rubbed at his eyes with one hand, trying to drive away the disconcerting feeling.
But the problem did not lie in his eyes at all. It was in his mind, he realized, quite suddenly. Something in him knew that the images he saw were a lie -- a very clever lie. Someone was skillfully manipulating his very brain so that he would see what that unknown wished him to see.
Through shielding? That spoke of awesome power. Of course if it were merely an illusion only he should see it.
The Jilectan spoke suddenly. "A campfire's remains. Most interesting, Terran. I think the boy cannot be far. Move ahead, into the cave."
Could he be wrong? Illusionists could create an illusion for only one person at a time ...
He shook his head, and his thoughts braked to a halt. That limitation referred to Terran psychics! How could he assume it also applied to the unknown? For that matter, just because he felt only one mind, it didn't mean there weren't more. In any case, this being, whatever he was, must have power to spare to even partially breach his shields. Some Terran psychics -- a very few -- could go through firmly held shielding, but only at close range. To this creature his shields must be like frosted glass, partially and imperfectly revealing his thoughts through a distorting medium. He could still feel it looking at him, and at last could begin to sense something of the thoughts behind the shields he had erected for protection. There was a sense of puzzlement, as if the being was confused, and a sense of ... hatred.
The more he looked at the scene, the more certain he became that part of what he was seeing was real and part was not. The being was able to press an illusion onto his mind through his shields, all right, but how much? And he'd better not assume anything about its range or scope. The clairvoyance of the Elves was far beyond a Terran's ability, although their other powers were sharply limited. He'd better keep in mind that Lyla and Tranthzill might be able to see it too. If they did, most likely they wouldn't be able to tell. Lyla had never met an illusionist, and Jilectans did not have the ability, period. As far as he knew they either didn't know or didn't acknowledge that the talent existed. And he'd better see to it that Tranthzill didn't catch on.
The aircar floated slowly forward, sliding into the cave with a soundless, gentle motion. He could hear the faint hum of the engine become louder suddenly in the confined space. The cave was roomy enough for an aircar. They glided effortlessly deeper into the cave, their headlights illuminating the darkness before them. The tunnel was not straight, but curved gently as they moved ahead; the walls were smooth and even, the floor flat and without irregularity.
And then there was a sharp turn to the left, rounded quickly. What met his eyes beyond the turn was the last thing Philips expected.
XII
The six students advanced slowly and as quietly as they could manage toward that pale rectangle in the distance. As they drew closer, Maureen could see that beyond it was another corner, turning left this time. Around the angle must be the source of the light that dimly illuminated the tunnel.
They paused at the angle, dimly able to see each other. Hildebrand flattened himself against the wall and edged up to the corner.
"Quiet!" he breathed, although no one had said anything. Maureen held her breath. Silence greeted their ears -- the echoing silence only heard in deserted houses. Maureen saw Hildebrand sneak one eye around the corner. He drew back.
"Deserted," he whispered. "Come on."
Walking on tiptoe, they rounded the corner single file. Incongruously, Maureen felt the desire to giggle. She forced it back, trying to banish from her mind the image of what they must look like.
The corridor was lit with a dim, greyish light that seemed to emanate from the walls. It proceeded ahead in a direction that must be straight into the cliffside for perhaps ten meters and ended in a T. The light radiating from the branching corridors was brighter.
Again they listened and Hildebrand sneaked a look. Still nothing. No sound reached them.
Or did it? Maureen strained her ears, trying to hear. Somehow, the place no longer had that "empty house" feel. What was it? What had changed?
Hildebrand turned left again and gestured them ahead once more. Maureen followed, still straining her ears.
The blank, greyish walls were still completely featureless. It was beginning to get on her nerves. Still, they shouldn't have any trouble finding their way out ...
Again, the hallway ended and a crossing passage extended into the distance in both directions. Again they turned left. Only now, the walls were less featureless. A tall, wide rectangle loomed beside them. Farther down was another, and another. Doors! Maureen examined the one beside her. It was taller and wider than a Terran would require, and there was no visible latch or doorknob. Not even a button. Maureen stared at it, wondering, still straining her ears for a sound. The only noises she could hear were those they, themselves made. At least ...
She couldn't get away from the idea that there was something that she was missing.
On impulse, she stepped up to the door and pushed gently. It did not budge, but through her fingers she could feel the faintest of vibrations, as if, far away, someone were running a great engine. That must be what she was feeling. She had noticed it subconsciously, even though her conscious mind had not. Regardless of appearances, this place was not deserted.
Hildebrand came up beside her and also put his hands to the door. He tensed. "Feel that?"
"Yes," Maureen said. "There's some kind of power generator running here."
"Of course there is," someone said. "Where do you think the light is coming from?"
"True." Maureen pressed her hands to the door. "But it's running harder than it was just a few seconds ago. And who's running it?"
"Think we ought to go back?" Lara asked, hesitantly. "We don't want to get lost in here. We can report what we've seen and let the authorities take it from there."
"Yeah," Gary Montez said, "but what'll they do about it? You know how the Jils push around the cops and most planetary authorities. We've got to find something they can't ignore or they'll just pat us on the head and pretend it isn't so."
Candy snorted derisively. "Why are you guys so worried about the Jilectans? The Jils aren't going to hurt us. They're civilized. A lot more civilized than most Terrans I know."
"Yeah?" her brother asked. "What about those public executions of theirs, anyway? Torturing people to death doesn't look very civilized to me."
"Every government deals with criminals its own way."
"Yeah," Jack Gorman said, "but I've never seen 'em do it to another Jil! Not even Jil murderers. Just other species -- like Terrans."
Candy sniffed. "That doesn't have anything to do with what we're talking about. The Jilectans aren't any threat to us. They're sensible people. Why should they want to invade Midgard?"
"They need our planets, that's why," Hildebrand said. "The Autonomy is overpopulated."
"Oh, nonsense! They can use birth control."
"No they can't. It's against their laws," Lara said, suddenly. "Why do you think they've taken those colony worlds away from us?"
"I don't believe all those stories about mass executions," Candy said, stubbornly. "Civilized people wouldn't do things like that."
Maureen cut in. "This isn't getting us anywhere. We still have to decide what to do!"
"I vote we go on," Gary said, ignoring his sister. "We really need to find out what's going on here."
"If we get caught in a secret Jil base you know what will happen, don't you?" Lara said.
"If this is a Jil base and we don't find proof, you know what will happen, too, don't you?" her sister replied.
Candy sniffed derisively. Maureen ignored her.
Hildebrand turned and surveyed the empty hall. "Look, anybody who wants to go back, go. I'm going ahead. I want to see what this is." He paused. "My uncle was killed in one of your imaginary mass executions, Candy -- the one on Regash II, a few months before the old Viceroy was assassinated. I don't want it to happen on Midgard."
Well! Maureen's opinion of Hildebrand went up several notches. She'd always liked him. He was a nice, friendly guy, kind of plain-looking, and the top student in her calculus class, but she'd always thought of him as kind of dull -- not the kind to set the world on fire. Now Jack Gorman -- he was a knockout! -- The captain of the polo team, blond, good-looking, nearly two meters tall -- Wow! What a looker! She'd been thrilled to find out that he was one of the boys chosen for her Practical. The only thing was, he'd been drooling over Candy up until yesterday. There was nothing like a mutual bad situation to teach you about people you thought you knew, she reflected.
"I'll go with you," she told Hildebrand.
"Me, too." Lara appeared apprehensive but determined. Gary nodded. Jack Gorman grinned nervously. "Count me in."
"Candy?" Hildebrand asked.
Candy didn't answer, but she didn't turn to retrace her steps either. Maureen almost wished she would. Candy still hadn't gotten even with them for thwarting her wishes regarding those patrolmen. And she would, too.
Hildebrand turned and started down the corridor again. Maureen followed, and the others trailed after them.
The corridor ran onward, straight ahead. The silent, closed doors on either side also continued at intervals, featureless, with no sign of a latch. What was this place? What could the Jils possibly be using it for?
The passage ended in another crossing passage. Hildebrand paused, then drew out his knife and scratched a large, faint X on the floor. Maureen nodded silent approval. Good idea. Now they could find their way back. They turned right. More doors, all closed. But ahead the dim, grey light was brighter. They advanced toward it on tiptoe. The corridor branched again in a T crossing. One branch was another passageway, but the other was no more than three meters long. At the end of it was another door, but this one stood partially open, and from the room beyond brighter light spilled into the corridor.
Hildebrand crept up to the door, hugging the walls. With infinite caution, he sneaked an eye around the edge. After a long second he motioned them forward.
The partially opened door gave them more than enough room to enter. It had to be the Jils, Maureen thought. The dimensions of the doorway sure weren't meant for humans.
Inside, she surveyed the room while the others crowded in behind her.
It was an enormous chamber, extending off into the distance. On the walls beside the door were what appeared to be literally thousands of purple lights, the size of her thumbnail, each with what appeared to be a switch beside it. Unreadable symbols labeled them. On the door itself was a small yellow button and a large, purple switch, labeled in the same, unreadable letters.
Jack Gorman turned to examine the rows of tiny lights. Four of them on the wall to the right of the door, Maureen noted suddenly, were not purple at all. They were grouped together in the bottom row. They were amber, and one of them was flickering slightly.
"What do you suppose those are?" Jack asked.
Candy, apparently interested in spite of her annoyance, went over beside him. "This isn't Basic," she said. "I've never seen it before." Tentatively, she poked at one of the levers beside a purple light.
"Candy, for God's sake, don't touch anything!" Gary snapped.
The light continued burning violet. Candy shrugged indifferently.
"Nothing happened. It didn't hurt anybody."
"Well, don't touch anything! You don't know what this stuff does!"
She gave him a look of disdain. "You were wrong about this place!" she said, triumphantly. "That writing isn't Basic or anything I've ever seen before!"
"Maybe it's the Jil language," Lara suggested. "Everybody knows Basic isn't their native language."
"Could be," Hildebrand said. "No, Candy!"
Candy had been examining the four amber lights. Now, before anyone could stop her, she reached out and flipped the four switches in rapid succession.
The soft hum in the walls faltered suddenly, and another, slightly different vibration replaced it. The lights changed color from amber to blue.
Gary grabbed her. "Candy! For God's sake, keep your hands off things!"
She jerked away from him. "Leave me alone, Gary! You can't tell me what to do!"
Hildebrand was examining the four blue lights. "Think we ought to put them back?"
Maureen looked doubtfully at the switches. "Better not touch it," she said at last. "We don't have any idea what these are for."
"Look, you airhead!" Gary's voice rose angrily. Typically, he wasted no diplomacy on his sister. "Have some common sense for once in your life! Keep your hands off things you don't understand!"
"Nobody tells me what to do!" Candy glared at her brother. "I don't have to listen to you!" With three quick steps, she reached the door and her hand jabbed the yellow button. "I'll touch anything I want to and you can't stop me!"
"No!" Maureen and Hildebrand shouted together. Jack Gorman grabbed for her arm.
It was too late. Candy's forefinger depressed the yellow button. With a groan and a squeal, the door began to close. Jack Gorman let go of Candy and grabbed for it, trying to force it back into its slot. Hildebrand and Gary ran to help him.
It was no use. The panel didn't even hesitate. Despite whatever had blocked its closing before, the door shut with inexorable determination. The boys had to jump out of the way to keep from being crushed.
For a second, nobody moved. Then Gary turned to his sister. "Now see what you've done!"
Candy gave that irritating sniff. "Don't be stupid. If that yellow button closed it, it'll open it." She reached for the button. Jack Gorman batted her hand away.
"Don't touch it!"
Candy drew back her hand, glowering at him. "If you think I'll ever date you again, Jack Gorman, you're wrong!"
Jack laughed dryly. "Don't worry, baby. I wouldn't date you again for anything. Neither would any other guy in his right mind!"
Candy slapped him.
It stunned them all into frozen immobility. Candy reached forward like lightning and pressed the yellow button again.
Nothing happened. She pressed it twice more. Still nothing.
"Stop it, Candy!" Hildebrand snapped, furiously.
She flung him a defiant glance, but Maureen thought that now there was more than a hint of panic in her defiance. That was the trouble with Candy. She never listened to anyone when she was angry, but when she got into trouble she didn't keep her head well. Maureen had seen the same pattern more than once in the last two years. The blond girl pushed the button twice more in rapid succession.
"It doesn't work, Candy." Gary seemed a little scared, but not panic-stricken. "Stop it. We'll have to try something else."
"Don't you tell me what to do!" Candy's shriek sounded to Maureen like an equal combination of fury and hysteria as she jerked away from her brother's reaching hand. In one, swift movement, she grabbed the purple switch and yanked it down.
There was the sudden hair-raising shriek of a whistle, so loud that the noise hurt their ears, then the door quivered to a crunching sound as if heavy bolts had slammed into place, although they saw nothing. Maureen thought she had never in her life seen anyone cause more damage in less than a minute. With an instinctive move, she ran to the door and threw the lever in the other direction.
The whistle ceased its howling with a dying hiccup. In the sudden silence, Maureen could hear the blood pounding in her ears.
"We've got to find another way out." Hildebrand's voice was surprisingly steady. "Come on everybody. That racket will have alerted everybody within earshot!" He started directly across the huge room. There appeared to be another door on the opposite side. Maybe that one could be opened, Maureen thought as she followed him. The others trailed after them, all but Candy. The blond girl stood apparently rooted to the spot.
"Where are you going?" Her shriek bounced eerily about the enormous cavern. "We have to get out of here! Come back!"
Maureen turned, strode purposefully back to her and grabbed her wrist, hanging on in spite of Candy's instinctive attempt to jerk free. "Come on, Candy!"
"Let me go!" Candy tried to yank away again and when Maureen didn't release her, she sank her teeth into Maureen's wrist, clearly completely out of control.
Maureen's patience deserted her at last. Almost before she thought, she swung her left hand. The palm caught Candy across the right cheek in a ringing slap. She startled herself almost as much as everyone else. Candy caught her breath, the hysteria checked. She raised her hand.
Lara was suddenly beside Maureen. She grabbed Candy's free hand and shoved her face to within five centimeters of the other girl's.
"Listen, you witch!" she snapped. "You've gotten us all in trouble! If you so much as touch one more thing, I'm going to tie your hands behind your back to keep you out of mischief!"
"And I'll help!" Maureen chimed in. "Now come on, before you get us all killed!"
Candy's eyes glittered vindictively, but she was outmatched by the two larger girls. She resisted for a moment, then apparently decided it was more dignified to walk than to be dragged. They crossed the enormous room at a half-run.
There was a door at the other end of the room. On it was the panel with the little yellow button and the large, purple switch. It was closed.
"I don't get this," Gary muttered. "Why are there ways to close the door but not open it?"
"Spread out," Hildebrand suggested. "See if you can find any way out. A ventilator -- anything. Maureen, you and Lara stay with Candy."
Maureen nodded. Candy glared at Hildebrand.
He ignored her. The three girls stood by the door, waiting. Candy yanked her wrists free of the sisters and tossed her head angrily. "I hope whoever owns this place finds all of you," she said, pettishly.
"They might. Thanks to your help." Maureen surveyed her, grimly. "Just remember what Lara said. Don't touch anything."
Candy sniffed. "You wouldn't dare."
"Don't count on it." Lara sounded as grim as Maureen. "If not for you, we wouldn't be in this mess." She walked to the door and pushed on it experimentally.
Maureen, one eye on Candy, let her gaze wander about the room: the floor, the ceiling, the walls. What in the galaxy could a place this size be for, anyway?
Then she frowned and stepped a little closer to the wall on her left. "Hey, Brand! Look at this!"
Hildebrand, standing in the center of the room, turned. "What?"
"I think it's a door!"
"Where?" several voices demanded in chorus.
"Look!"
Everyone hurried over to her. Hildebrand cast a suspicious glance at Candy. "Where is it? I don't see anything but wall."
"Here!" Maureen pointed, indicating what she had already seen. An almost invisible seam ran up the wall, perhaps two meters, beginning half a meter from the floor and ending some distance above their heads. From there it ran horizontal for two meters, then down. There did not appear to be a bottom seam, but perhaps ...
"I don't see any way to open it," Hildebrand said. He pushed experimentally on it.
The panel quivered. The right side bent slightly inward and the left bulged outward. Hildebrand got a finger under it and pried. There was a clink and the sound of breakage, and the panel folded down. Candy screamed.
**********
tbc
