Having finished revising this, I'm going to try to post the rest in the next day or two. Believe it or not, we're getting close to the end. I'm going to LAFF on Friday and Saturday, but I'll post in the morning before I leave.
Artifact 8/?
by Nancy Smith and Linda Garrick
(short flashback)
Leaving the students munching, Philips returned to Lyla. The woman glanced at him soberly, but didn't speak. There was no need. He could read the information straight from her mind, and what he read scared him.
The computer was sentient. The technology it must have taken to design the thing was mind-boggling enough, but not unbelievable. Human science was almost certainly within reach of that, itself. But the computer mind believed them to be Centaurs. If it discovered they were not, what would it do? This thing was the master computer of the complex. It managed a lot of power, and was certainly under orders to repel intruders; such being defined as non-Centaurs. The only thing that had so far saved them was the fact that it had mistaken their telepathic wavelength for that of other Centaurs. Philips wasn't sure he liked that, but such a stroke of luck was not to be despised. And until he could disable it or otherwise render it harmless, somehow, it must go on believing them to be Centaurs.
The computer was reeling off a report to Lyla. She had informed it that she must run a check on its memory banks for completeness and possible damage, as well as to fill in the gaps in their own records, and instructed it to give a synopsis of the history of the fortress, its purpose and the events that led up to the hibernation, as well as a status report of the current situation. Apparently the Guardian believed her, for it began at once, and Philips thanked his lucky stars that the Centaur computer was still a more primitive thinker than organic minds.
The Citadel, it appeared, was an outpost at the very rim of the Empire. The Empire had been expanding for a thousand centaur years; exactly how that compared to Terran years Philips wasn't sure. Worlds that the Masters found contained intelligent life or possibly future intelligent life were cleansed of the threat and adopted for their own use. This world had been so cleansed after the Citadel was established, as a hunter-gatherer society had flourished here when the Masters came. But for the last century before the Great Sleep, the Empire had been at war with the Barbarians, a small, ugly, bipedal species with a variety of the Masters' own mind power. Then, as the expedition was readied to investigate the small, promising yellow star 4.1 Imperial Light Years away, the Great Plague struck the Empire.
Lyla looked questioningly at him and he shrugged expressively.
The Great Plague, the computer specified, was actually a biological weapon, developed in the bio labs of the Empire: a psychic parasite to be used against the Barbarians. But the weapon proved less amenable to control than its designers had expected; the weapon turned on its masters and began destroying them as well. That was when the Stasis Chambers were built. The Citadel was one of the most isolated, and believed to be one of the last few surviving. There were only four others in this distant galactic arm and it was hoped one or more would survive past the plague.
Philips muttered, "Tell it to show us a Parasite. I have a hunch. And one of the Barbarians."
Lyla did so. One of the smaller screens changed immediately from the star map it had been showing -- one of a spiral arm of their galaxy, indicating the location of the other four centaur bases. Philips doubted it would be very informative. The bases were apparently well outside the known sphere of influence of the Jilectan Autonomy -- and besides that, the map was of a galaxy two million or so years ago. Perhaps an astronomer or a starship pilot might make sense of it. He was neither.
The star map faded, and in its place, not to Philips' surprise, appeared the image of a globe parasite. So that was the solution to the mystery of the Skelzir globes. They were a biological development by the Centaurs, intended to kill psychics. It explained a great deal that he had wondered about. The globes, like the computer, were sentient, and utterly inimical to all other life; he had not been able to understand how such a form of life could have come to be, completely without power to move on their own, feeding on life energy, and sudden death to unshielded psychics. Now the answer was obvious.
The image faded, to be replaced by another, familiar image: a small, olive-green biped, bearing a close resemblance to the elves of Terran legend. The green cast to the skin was due to the chlorophyll in their cells; the Elves, unlike all other sentient species they had met, had never differentiated from plants: they had qualities of both the animal and vegetable kingdoms, including the ability to extract nutrients from sunlight.
This picture, too, answered questions his people had wondered about for years. The Elves, themselves, reported that their Sleeper Chambers had been designed during the height of the Great War. They'd been very much afraid that the Beasts, whom no surviving Elf had ever physically seen, as the enemy always attacked from a distance, would destroy their race. They'd selected the best and brightest for stasis so their people might survive. And so, of course, they'd had no idea what had been the final outcome, except that both Elves and Beasts were gone. The globe parasites, designed to attack and kill unshielded psychics, must have wiped out both species, except for the sleepers. It was also an ironic twist that the Terran species almost certainly owed its existence to the Skelzir globes. If the Centaurs had not gone into stasis when they did, primitive humanity would surely have been exterminated in the so-called "cleansing" of Terra. It was a little sobering, or would have been if he'd had time to think about it.
The computer continued, with a hint of sadness in its mental voice. The Stasis Chambers had failed, one by one, over the millennia, in spite of the efforts of the Guardian. Other stasis fields had failed in the main fortress, allowing parts to deteriorate. Precious equipment was lost to the ravages of Time. And the Parasites still existed. There were at least two on this world alone. The Guardian had received their signals in spite of their latent state, and it had been unable to revive the Sleepers until the planet was free of the creatures -- unless the Citadel was in immediate danger of destruction. When the explosions above the Citadel occurred in the previous light period, it had chosen to believe them under attack and awakened the senior-ranking Sleeper. Here the impression became less clear. Philips picked up from Lyla's mind, the conceptual title that translated roughly as Field Marshal or Sector Commander. A fairly high ranking Centaur officer, anyway, sent here by the High Command, in the hopes that this base might survive.
"What's that?" The Watson boy chose that moment to approach the screen.
Philips thought fast and replied without perceptible hesitation. "Lyla apparently got into some historical records by accident. Those things were enemies of the Centaurs at some time in history." He turned to Lyla. "See if you can get it to show you some floor plans of this place, Lyla, with emphasis on a way out: down to the canyon floor if there is one."
"I'm doing my best." Lyla played with the machine's inactive manual controls: lights on the board. He wondered briefly how she had identified them. Probably via the computer. To him the colored lights looked no different than all the others. They couldn't all be computer controls; that was confined to the section in front of Lyla. Possibly they were controls or indicators for other functions of this place. He dismissed the thought. Who could tell what an alien species might have in mind with its designs?
The computer was responding to her mental request for floor plans with prompt efficiency; section after section flashed briefly on the screen. At last the screen darkened.
"That's it," Lyla said, at last. "There are only three exits there that we can use. The rest are sealed, apparently. There's the way we came in, near the falls, the one you kids used, partway down the canyon side, and one quite near ground level. Unfortunately it's across the river. You have to take a tunnel to the other side."
That was an interesting, and rather awesome, aspect of this place, Philips thought. The fortress extended not only on this side of the canyon, but on the other side as well. A passage led under the river, undoubtedly the area where the trees ended suddenly, leaving only a stretch of grassland, and connected both parts of the massive fortress, which extended far underground as well. Actually much of the Citadel's equipment was to be found on the other side. They were now in the smaller, newer part -- if you could call a couple of million years new.
From behind him a girl's voice spoke.
"You people are no geologists. Just who are you, really?"
Matt and Lyla both turned around in surprise. Hildebrand Watson also turned, a look on his face that Philips correctly interpreted as annoyance and irritation.
The short, blond girl stood there: Candy Montez, if Philips remembered correctly. The one with the natural mind shielding.
He had detected it within the first couple of minutes after their precipitous arrival. The girl was one of those individuals that occurred now and then in the Terran population whose mind produced its own, natural mental shield. This girl's was a strong one. It probably wasn't perfect; few of them were, but it was good enough to prevent him from reading her mind without a great deal of effort, and, no doubt, a strong, physical reaction on her part. Philips decided to leave well enough alone.
But there remained some mysteries. For instance, how had the door of the stasis room, in which they had been trapped, been opened? And how did she know that they weren't geologists?
The girl was standing before him, her chin up and challenging. Her whole body language gave Philips, normally a tolerant, easy-going man, the entirely unexpected impulse to slap her. He controlled it with an effort.
"I beg your pardon, Miss Montez?"
"Don't give me that nonsense about Confederation Geological Survey," she sniffed, looking Lyla straight in the eye. "You're carrying a blaster! No geologist would do that. Just who are you?"
How had the girl guessed that? Phillips made an unobtrusive inspection of Lyla and himself. The blasters were anonymous bulges under their heavy capes, and there was nothing to indicate, in any case, that the things were not stunners or, for that matter, geological tools. The girl knew too much for an ordinary human. Then he understood. There was one psychic back on Nova Luna, who was also an automatic, natural shielder: Tyler Brown, a former police detective who possessed the exceedingly rare ability to use his powers right through his shields. Polarized shielding, their psychic researchers called it. Candy Montez was another such individual. She had to be.
Lyla raised her shapely eyebrows in cool disdain, meeting Candy's accusing blue eyes with a look of incredulous contempt that made the blond girl's complexion turn deep red.
"Of course we're carrying blasters," she said, as if she were speaking to a rather slow child. "This is wild territory. Confederation Survey wants us back alive, not as a couple of casualties."
Hildebrand Watson gave a slightly malicious laugh. "Got you there, Candy!" The look he gave her was not friendly. It was apparent to Philips that the lovely Miss Montez had not gone out of her way in the past hours to make herself agreeable to her companions. Candy glared at the boy but, to Philips' surprise, said nothing.
He turned away from the argument. Best to drop it now, before the other students got suspicious. Even Lyla might have trouble explaining why the blaster she carried was studded with rubies, and the one he had with emeralds, not to mention the fact that both were somewhat larger and fancier than Terran models. If they got out of this alive, he planned to keep it as a souvenir. It should make quite a conversation piece.
He removed a concentrate wafer from his pouch and pretended to examine the panel of lights on the computer's manual control panel, his mind busy. They had to get out of here as fast as possible. The Centaur almost certainly knew where they were by now, and, just as certainly, would not let matters lie. To wait here for him to lower the boom on them would be the height of stupidity. He said as much to Lyla.
She nodded emphatically. "I agree. We need to get out of here, now." Then her gaze went past him and froze, focussed on a spot behind and above his head. She gave a faint, startled squeak.
Philips spun. A viewscreen had lit up, and for an instant he caught sight of a set of four, reptilian eyes, yellow, with slitted pupils, peering out of a mass of black, shaggy hair. A mouth opened, with a flash of white, gleaming fangs, and then the screen cut off abruptly. Candy screamed.
**********
Candy screamed. Lyla Cane pulled herself out of paralyzed shock and reached for the Guardian's computer mind, before she really had a chance to think.
The computer responded hesitantly, clearly confused. That would be a disadvantage with a machine capable of real thought, of course. With a standard computer one would find it almost impossible to induce a state of uncertainty. Things clearly were or were not. But the Guardian was truly confused. The Centaur must have contacted it as well. How could she have been so stupid to fail to take into account the possibility of an auxiliary command center someplace!
Matt's voice spoke urgently in her mind. *Tell it we have an emergency! Tell it the security of the Citadel as been breached by enemy forces! Tell it that they have seized control of part of the fortress!*
Lyla did so at once. The computer responded hesitantly, suspiciously. Who, it demanded, was the enemy?
Lyla projected it an image of Lady Tranthzill. That should be alien enough, from the computer's viewpoint.
*This is the enemy!* She spoke with all the conviction her mental voice could carry, and it had the advantage of being completely truthful. *This is a Jilectan, a species that has become very powerful while the Masters slept. They have star travel, and rule many worlds of the Galaxy. And they have a variety of the Masters' own power!*
It was enough. The computer's uncertainty vanished. The Guardian was simmering with anger at this upstart species threatening its masters. It hesitated not at all when Lyla ordered it to take all possible security measures, and to shut down all other command centers to prevent confusion. While it was doing that, she turned her attention to the outside world.
Candy was sobbing hysterically. The other five students still stared at the screen, as if expecting the picture to return. Perhaps they did. In spite of the mental exchange between herself and the computer, it had been only a few seconds.
"What was that?" Lara gasped.
"I'd say it was our friend, the -- what did you call it -- the Centaur," Gary Montez said, sounding a trifle strained. He was standing protectively beside Candy, and Lyla was struck by how much larger he was than his tiny sister. The boy must reach nearly two meters in his bare feet! "Dr. Philips was right; it was looking for us."
"What do we do now?" Jack Gorman asked, white-faced but calm. He looked at Matt Philips.
Matt appeared calm and in control. No one but an empath could know how nervous he was. Lyla had to admire both his presence of mind and his acting ability.
"Lyla," he directed her, audibly, "get on the computer. Have it take security measures to keep anything from getting in here."
"Right," she responded, and turned to the inactive manual controls. Matt continued to speak calmly, his businesslike air insensibly reassuring the people around him.
"While Lyla is doing that, I want everyone here to check out all these desk drawers -- or whatever they are, and that cabinet there, if that's what it is. If you find anything that looks like it might be a weapon, call me. Don't touch anything -- just look."
"Right." Hildebrand Watson nodded sharply. "You heard the man, guys. Let's move!"
As the students scattered, opening drawers and cabinet doors, he spoke softly to her. "I take it you were one step ahead of me." At her nod, he continued, "We have to make this thing harmless. If it finds out we're the enemy, we're done for."
She found herself giggling nervously. "You'd have made a great actor, Matt. You almost sound as if you know what you're doing."
He actually chuckled. "Good. Now all I have to do is convince myself. What's it done for security?"
"I'll ask it." She did so. After a moment she was able to report. "The inner security doors have been sealed and will open only for the correct telepathic command. It changed all the commands from the previous ones, and activated the defensive weapons." At his startled expression, she added thoughtfully, "I guess we were lucky they weren't activated before."
"The Centaur probably didn't see a need for it," Matt replied, after a pause. "Have it give us a list of the new signals."
"I'll have it print one up." Lyla resumed her silent communication with the computer mind. There was a sudden chattering noise and Matt jumped slightly. A strip of plastic-like substance began to extrude from a wide slot below the largest screen. When it stopped, she pulled it free of the wall. The list was in Centaur writing, of course, but looking it over, Lyla found she could read it with little difficulty. It must be part of her linguistic ability. She kicked herself mentally. She'd been learning foreign languages like this for years, but always before had attributed it to her photographic memory, a talent Harry had inherited from her. But Harry didn't learn languages like that. He was good at them, but not that good. How could she have been so stupid not to recognize the ability as a psychic talent?
Matt Philips mind laughed softly within hers; even through the strain she sensed in it. *The same way I didn't realize I was a pyro in my Pioneer Youth Group,* he said silently, *and didn't even figure it out until last year. They always picked me to start the campfire; mine always started twice as fast as anyone else's. But all psychics have near photographic memories, and lots have photographic ones. I do. It's tied to being a psychic.*
Of course it was. Lyla felt more stupid than ever. Her husband's memory had been extraordinarily good, though not quite as good as hers, and so was Brenda's. Why hadn't she figured that out, she wondered, scanning the list even as she did so. She'd had all the evidence in front of her. Talk about dense!
Matt's laughter sounded in her brain again, and Lyla sensed pure amusement at her evaluation of herself. He didn't think she was stupid, anyway. That was somewhat reassuring.
"Get it all?" he asked aloud.
"Yes." She folded the list and thrust it into her belt pouch. Matt grinned nervously at her.
"Good. Now part two. Let's disable this thing."
"I'm game. How?"
"Tell it you're going to run a check of its manual controls. Direct it to go to manual."
"Okay," said Lyla dubiously. "I don't think it's going to like this."
She was right. The computer mind grew slightly suspicious once more. Lyla felt perspiration break out on her forehead.
"It can be put on manual by going into maintenance mode," she informed Philips, "but it doesn't think a security breach seems exactly the moment for it."
Philips bit his lip. "Tell it that it has been here without maintenance for a very long time. Before the crisis becomes too immediate we must be certain it's functioning properly."
"Okay." She swallowed and relayed the message, holding her breath. The computer mind considered, while time seemed to stretch endlessly.
"What's holding it up?" Matt whispered.
"It's thinking your idea over," she explained, tensely. "I'm not sure it's going to go for it."
"Tell it that time is short," Philips advised. "I doubt any Centaur officer would put up with insubordination, even from the fortress' guardian computer. Be a little arrogant, as if you're irritated at the delay, and you're not about to take backchat."
He was probably right, she realized. No commanding officer would take any disobedience from an underling, not even a computer. Summoning as stern an attitude as she could simulate, she spoke a harsh mental command.
*Computer!* She projected the concepts, tinged with anger and impatience. *Now is not the moment for disobedience! I begin to believe that you are indeed malfunctioning! Obey my commands! Print out a list of instructions for the manual controls and go to maintenance mode without delay!*
The results were like magic. A crisp acknowledgement, and the chatter of a printer. Again a strip of plastic began to emerge from the wall slot. When it stopped, Lyla ripped it off and handed it to Philips with a small flourish.
"Done!" she announced. "Murphy must have a real kicker waiting for us around the corner. It worked. The computer's conscious mind is now in its equivalent of sleep. It's all yours!"
"I'd say it needs a good nap after a couple of million years on duty," he replied absently, scanning the list. "Can you read this stuff?"
"Well enough."
"Good." He shook his head ruefully. "I should have known better. The Westovers never get into simple stuff. They attract complications like honey attracts flies. Let's see if we can locate our pal. Does this thing have scanners?"
Lyla consulted the plastic strip. "Right here." She indicated a row of lights. "Sort of like a keyboard, I guess."
"All right. That's your job. Start looking for life signs around here. That should pinpoint him -- and M'Lady, if she's still around."
"I'd forgotten about her," Lyla admitted, a little surprised at herself. Or, perhaps, she amended, it wasn't so surprising after all. Tranthzill made a weak villainess next to the Centaur commander, or whatever he was. She made herself remember that, in spite of everything, if Tranthzill was alive she was still quite dangerous to them. It was simply that the Centaur was more so. Still, she found herself wondering what the Jils would do if they found themselves up against a nation of these things. Maybe they'd discover what it was like to be the targets for extermination, and find themselves fighting for their lives like the Terran psychics had been doing since the Jils had found out about them. Of course, the Centaurs would be just as dangerous to Terrans and every other intelligent species in the Sector as they were to the Jils; still, the idea had its appeal. And, she reminded herself, it was possible they might live to see something of the sort. The Centaur Empire had stretched over a pretty wide area. There were supposed to be four others in this spiral arm, alone. If those Elves Matt had spoken of had survived, and this Centaur had, it was quite possible there were other survivors as well. If this character somehow managed to reach the other Citadels and awaken others of his kind ... She didn't like to think of that. These critters had exterminated every intelligent or potentially intelligent species they'd ever come across: genocide on a galactic scale, she thought, with a faint shudder. Somehow, she doubted if they'd changed all that much, either.
Matt was apparently thinking along similar lines. It was uncanny how closely they reasoned, she reflected. It was a shame that she hadn't met him years ago. In many ways he reminded her of Harris. Philips flicked her a little grin.
"I wish we could somehow neutralize this fellow," he remarked soberly, aloud. "If he gets off-world, somehow, and contacts the others, we could all be in real trouble. But I don't see how we're going to do it unless we run into him face to face and get in a lucky shot. And, personally, I don't want to run into him face to face."
"Me, either," Lyla said, reaching for the lights that were the manual controls, which began at about hairline level. "I'm not sure we wouldn't be the losers."
"Yeah," he admitted, ruefully. "Right now, our business is to survive and report this whole affair. Then our people will be warned, at least."
"At least," Lyla agreed. "And, of course, he may not be able to get off planet. Somehow, I can't see him sneaking inconspicuously into Midgard Planetary Spaceport."
"That's a point. There must be some limit to his illusionary powers. Still, I wouldn't put it past him to manage, somehow. Did you see any ship bays in the floor plans of this place?"
She shook her head. "No, but I wasn't looking for them. Just the escape routes." The screen before them lit up with a schematic of one level of the fortress.
"I'm directing it to show us anything alive," she continued, matter-of-factly. "I wonder how they built everything so it lasted this long? Stasis fields?"
He shrugged. "Probably. The computer couldn't have been in stasis, though, or it couldn't have worked all this time."
"Maybe it had some sort of automatic self-repair or something."
"Maybe. It had something, obviously; we don't have to explain it. Two million years is a heck of a long time."
Maureen Hammond had approached as they spoke. She looked at the screen.
"Two million years?" she asked, incredulously.
"More or less." Lyla glanced at her. "I'm not sure of the exact length of time, but that's a good, round number."
The girl shook her head. "How do you know?"
"A number of things told us." Matt couldn't tell her the computer had communicated with them telepathically, of course. "Among other things, the star positions in the computer records." That, at least, was partially true. "And, you know, Terran xenoarcheologists have found ruins here and there, nothing much, but they've suggested an ancient stellar civilization that collapsed about that long ago. Jil archaeologists say the same thing. Apparently it was some kind of empire that covered a lot of galactic territory, and fell rather suddenly. If this is a remnant of it, it could be the most important xenoarcheological discovery ever made." He paused. "I wish I was an archeologist."
"Me, too," Maureen said. "I don't know much about it. I'm a poly-sci major. Lara and Gary are into physics, Brand is a math major and Jack's into agriculture. He's captain of the polo team, too," she added, a little wistfully. Lyla kept her face straight.
"How about Candy?" Philips asked curiously. Maureen shrugged.
"Candy? Philosophy, at the moment. Before that she was an arts major, and I think before that she was into drama. Why?"
Philips grinned. "I just wondered." Lyla gave him a stern look. Maureen, however, caught the point in spite of it. She grinned, too.
"Yeah. Her dad's an aircar mechanic in Asgard. She's got five brothers, all older than her. She's the only girl in the family and I guess they kind of spoiled her."
Philips raised an eyebrow. Lyla reflected that it was astounding how much could be conveyed by the single expression. But then, she reflected, he was a talented empath. "I take it you and she haven't seen eye to eye during your Practical?"
Maureen glanced over her shoulder at Candy, standing sulkily by the door, arms folded, obviously divorcing herself from the proceedings.
"She's been a pain in the rear," she said, bluntly. "The first two days, she wanted to survive on nuts and berries! The only berries we've found out here so far are chill berries. I guess you could eat them if you had to, but I sure as heck wouldn't. They taste like soap and they're mostly cellulose."
"They make a terrific laxative, too," Lyla said, straight-faced. "They've got a high content of phenolphthalein."
"So Candy found out." The tall girl sounded faintly malicious. "So after that, she condescended to eat the stuff Lara and I killed, but she wouldn't let us forget what brutes we were the whole time. Then yesterday there was that aircar battle practically over us, and all she could do was stand there and scream; and then she wanted to climb down the cliff at night, in a snowstorm, to see if the 'trols that bailed out were hurt."
Matt and Lyla looked at each other, but neither commented.
Maureen shrugged. "We didn't," she said, unnecessarily. "Say, did you see the aircar fight last evening? Do you have any idea what it was all about?"
Matt nodded. Lyla kept her eyes fixed on the viewscreen. "We did see it from a distance," he admitted, "but I couldn't venture a guess about what was going on. It seems a sort of funny coincidence, though, that they're here, and so is this fortress. I wonder if they were looking for something like it without the knowledge of the planetary government."
"We sort of wondered about that, too," the Watson boy remarked. He had approached while they were talking. "Do you suppose we should report the aircars when we get back?"
Philips shrugged. "Chances are the government already knows. But you know how they always handle it when the Jils are involved. They make a formal complaint to the Autonomy--"
"Which the Jils ignore," Maureen sounded resentful. "Somebody apologizes loudly and nothing gets done."
"Or," added Jack Gorman, who had obviously been listening, "they call us liars and deny it."
"True," Philips admitted, straight faced. Lyla carefully kept silent. There obviously wasn't much love for the Jils in this room. "But I'd be careful about letting them spot you right now. You know how the Jils are about inconvenient witnesses if they *are* up to something shady. You wouldn't be the first people to vanish in these mountains."
"That's pretty much what we thought," Gary Montez said. "Why do you think the cars were fighting, though?"
Philips shrugged. "Anybody's guess. Are you sure both cars were Patrol?"
"I think they were," said Maureen, hesitantly. "The light wasn't real good. I suppose one might not have been."
"If they shot down a civilian car, or maybe one of our own military, I doubt they'll be too happy you saw it," Philips said. "Were both cars shooting?"
"Yes," Hildebrand said. "It couldn't have been a civilian. I suppose the other car could have been one of ours."
"Hmm. I'd be pretty cautious about reporting it, then. There's the old saying about dead men and tales."
"Don't be ridiculous," Candy said. She had approached during the conversation, and now gave Philips a patronizing smile. "The Jilectans are a civilized people. Why should they hurt us as long as we tell the truth? When we get back we'll just report it and that will be it. I've never met such a paranoid batch of people in my life. You sound like my father!"
Lyla glanced at the blond girl, firmly quelling her irritation. Little Miss Know-It-All, she reflected, was likely to have her rosy illusions dispelled rather brutally if what Matt suspected about the girl was true. She, like a few others Lyla knew of, might have to learn the truth about things the hard way.
Matt glanced around at the assembled students, who had, by now, all gathered before him. "No weapons, I take it," he concluded resignedly.
Hildebrand Watson shook his head. "None. Now what?"
"I'm scanning the levels of the fortress, looking for lifeforms," Lyla told him. "Nothing so far. That --" she indicated the screen, "is the one two floors up. There's the way you came in." She pointed. "And there's the Stasis Room. Hmm--" She regarded the pinpoints of light now flashing on the screen, and asked for further information. A readout appeared. "Matt --"
He turned at her tone. "What?"
"Life forms. Four of them in the Stasis Room."
"Survivors?"
"Evidently." She turned to the students. "Didn't you say Miss Montez touched some of the controls in the room where you found the skeleton?"
"Yes," Maureen replied. "Four of the lights were sort of amber instead of purple. She flipped their switches and the lights changed to blue."
"Oh, boy," Matt said.
"What?"
"I'm not sure," Lyla said, "but I think she must have set the revival sequences in action. My readings indicate that they're coming out of hibernation."
"You mean there's going to be four more of those things running around in here?" Lara asked.
"I'm afraid so. Probably not before we're long gone, though."
"Or dead," Jack Gorman said, bleakly. He glanced at Candy, and the look was anything but friendly. "We told you to keep your hands to yourself!"
Candy tossed her head, sniffed contemptuously, and looked away.
"Leave her alone," Hildebrand Watson said, unexpectedly. "Yelling at Candy now isn't going to help. What should we do, Dr. Philips?"
The students, Lyla thought with amusement, had apparently handed over leadership to Matt. He certainly seemed the best candidate for it. The unassuming little man had the stamp of a leader.
"Let Lyla finish her scan first," he said. "We don't want to walk out of here, straight into the arms of the Centaur."
"That's for sure," Gary Montez said. His sister tossed her head.
"I still think there's something funny about these so-called 'geologists'," she said, pettishly.
Lyla ignored her, concentrating on her scan. So far the Centaur hadn't shown up, and that bothered her. Where the dickens was he?
She moved the scan downward. The floor above them was also bare of life. She'd been over this area before. There were two possibilities. Either the Centaur had left the fortress or he'd been moving around and she'd somehow missed him. How could she have ... Sudden comprehension jolted her. The lift! If it were moving sufficiently fast she might very well miss the fact that it was occupied, especially considering her unfamiliarity with the computer's manual controls, and its readouts.
Her gaze flew to the doors of the lift that serviced the Command Center; her fingers leaped across the controls. The representation of the lift shafts appeared on the screen, and sure enough, there he was. The lift that opened on their present quarters was occupied by a large, lifeform.
She spun. "Matt! It's in the lift! Right on the other side of the doors! We've got to get out of here!"
"Are they still locked?" he asked.
"Of course. And I had the computer inactivate the doors. How long do you think they'll hold him?"
"If he's as smart as I think, not long, even if they're reinforced to protect this room. You can bet he's not empty-handed. I want you to do several things for me with the computer, if you can, quickly. The rest of you stand by the door. Be ready to run when I say so."
Candy glared at him belligerently. "I don't have to do --"
Her brother grabbed her by the arm, interrupting her display of defiance.
"Shut up and get over there!" he snapped, harshly. "I'm not going to let you get yourself killed, no matter how hell-bent you are on it. Now move!"
She must have seen something in his face for she moved, glowering, over to the door with the others. Lyla bent over the computer.
XV
Maureen stood by the door as Matt Philips had directed, her companions surrounding her, her gaze shifting from the two geologists to the lift doors. Dr. Philips and Dr. Cane were working furiously on the computer; she didn't know what they were doing, but she hoped they did. If that Centaur thing were indeed in the lift, she had no urge to face him. That skeleton they'd found, and the glimpse on the viewscreen, had been enough for her.
There was a sudden, reverberating clang and Maureen jumped. She saw Matt Philips glance quickly at the lift doors. Another clang followed, and she saw the door quiver, then there came a hair-raising whine that rose quickly to a scream. The door to the lift began to smoke faintly.
Candy shrieked, all her bravado gone. Maureen wasn't even faintly surprised at her reaction. She hadn't seen Candy keep her head in a crisis yet.
Matt Philips and Lyla Cane were abruptly beside them. "Let's go!" Philips barked, all at once no longer the pleasant, easy-going man they had met earlier. He sounded more like Maureen's ROTC instructor. To her surprise, the doors snapped smartly open, and they pelted through. All but Candy. She stood rooted to the spot, staring at the doors of the lift which were now smoking heavily, eyes and mouth wide open. Jack Gorman grabbed her by the arm and yanked her through as the doors to the corridor outside began to close. Candy fought him.
Philips didn't hesitate. "Carry her!" he rapped out. "Come on!"
Jack Gorman swung her over his shoulder and followed the others as they ran down a hallway lined with doors, Candy writhing and struggling futilely in his muscular grip, reached an intersecting corridor of which theirs was the crosspiece of the T and turned down it. A door slid to behind them with a hair-raising screech of metal. They ran again and paused at another intersection. Candy had ceased to struggle and Jack put her down. Her brother grabbed her arm.
"Come on, Candy!" he snapped. Candy yanked her wrist free but kept up with them as they started down the leg of another T. Another door slid to behind them.
Matt Philips slowed their pace to a fast walk. "It'll take him a bit to catch up," he said. "Lyla did a real job on his computer."
"What did she do?" Lara panted, curiously.
Philips grinned, not slowing his speed. "She shut down his scanners and viewscreens. He won't be able to get them going again to look for us unless he can come up with the code words. And the fortress' weapons are rigged to fire on anything his size or over. He's going to have trouble following us."
"But he could get killed!" Candy protested, accusingly.
"I'd rather have him dead than us," Dr. Cane retorted. "He won't get killed. He's too smart. But it'll take time for him to undo what we did, and time is what we need."
Candy stopped in her tracks.
"I don't care who you say you are," she said, stubbornly. "You're not Confederation Geological Survey any more than I am! Who the devil are you, anyway?"
"Candy --" her brother began.
"No!" Candy shouted. "I don't trust them! They're lying to us! I'm not going another step with them!" Before anyone could move, she turned and ran. After a frozen instant, her brother started after her, followed by Hildebrand Watson. Then the rest pelted after them. Maureen heard Dr. Cane say something under her breath.
They came up with Gary and Hildebrand around the corner. They were staring at a blank door.
"It opened," Gary said, "and she went through, then it closed behind her. It won't open again."
"Let me try." Philips pushed on the door and, to Maureen's astonishment, it opened at once, revealing a bare hall, lined with doors. There was no sign of Candy.
"Candy!" her brother shouted.
No answer. Not even the sound of her running footsteps. They stared helplessly at each other. After a moment, the door slid shut again.
"I'm going after her," Gary said, finally. "I can't leave her."
"You can't go," Dr. Cane objected. "You can't open the doors. Besides, you don't know where she went."
"I can't leave her to die, here!"
"She won't die." Matt Philips sounded oddly positive. "I think Candy can take care of herself better than you know." He put a hand on Gary's arm. "Gary, let us get the five of you out of here. Candy may get out on her own, anyway. If she doesn't, Lyla and I will come back in and try to find her."
"But how can she get out? She doesn't know how to open the doors either!"
"Yes, she does," Philips said, tiredly. "Who do you think opened the doors for you before you met us?"
That caught his attention. "That's crazy!"
"No it isn't." Philips appeared resigned. "Look, kids, let's go. We'll talk on the way."
"But you know how to open them! Just show me how and I'll go after her! You get the others out!"
Maureen saw Philips look oddly at him, but the man replied gravely. "I can't, Gary. I wish I could, but even if I told you how, you couldn't do it."
"Like hell! If you can do it, so can I!"
"I'm afraid not." The man's expression was very sober as he looked at Gary, then around at the others, and Maureen thought he made a decision. "Gary, your sister was right. Dr. Cane and I are not geologists."
Somehow Maureen wasn't surprised.
"Then, who are you?" Jack Gorman asked.
Philips sighed. "Have you ever heard of the Terran Underground?" he asked.
"Terran Underground!" Hildebrand's face was a study in equal parts of shock and skepticism.
"That's right." Philips was looking straight at Gary. "We didn't tell you for your own safety. We're the reason the Patrol is here."
"But, Candy --"
"We found the fortress by accident," Philips continued. "We've learned that it was built by a race of psychics a long time ago, who understood more about psychic power than either the Jils or the psychics of the Underground ever dreamed of. They exterminated every intelligent race they came across to be certain they had no rivals. The Centaur is one of them, and intends to kill us for the same reason. But this fortress works on psychic energy. No one who is not a psychic can operate anything in it, including the doors. I am a psychic, and so is Dr. Cane."
"But Candy--"
"Candy is also a psychic. I detected it in the Command Center. She doesn't know it, but she can operate, and is operating, the doors the same way Lyla and I can."
"Candy isn't a psychic!"
Philips sighed. "I'm afraid she is, Gary, even though you aren't. She knew we weren't telling you the truth, and she knew we were armed, even though the rest of you didn't."
Gary looked stubborn, and suddenly Maureen saw his sister in him.
"If you're a psychic, find her then."
Philips shook his head. "Ordinarily I could, but this fortress' rooms are psychic-shielded. My psychic powers are blocked at the walls. However, that will protect Candy. The Centaur can't track her any better than I can, and Lyla sabotaged his viewscreens. It's too bad we didn't have the time to do a better job. The rest of the computer is still functional, and that means we have limited time before he comes after us. Let Lyla and me get you to safety, and then if Candy hasn't found her own way out -- which she may; she *is* a psychic -- I'll come back and try to find her." He put a hand on Gary's shoulder; he had to reach up to do it (that should have been a clue right there, Maureen thought. Everyone knew Terran psychics were small). "Candy's safer than we are. There's only one of her. The Centaur is far more likely to come after us."
It took a little more persuasion, but at last Gary gave in, mostly, Maureen realized, because of the obvious futility of further argument. Philips again led them from passageway to doorway, which opened obediently for him, weaving what Maureen was sure was a deliberately circuitous path through the maze of tunnels.
"Where are we going?" she asked, finally.
"There's a lift a good way across the fortress that I'm aiming for," he told her. "I picked it instead of a close one in hopes the Centaur won't expect us to head for it."
"And after the lift?'
"There's a way out onto the canyon floor, or only a little way above it. We go out there. Then we check the other exits to see if Candy got out. If not, I'll see what I can do to find her."
"I'm going with you," Gary said.
Philips didn't argue. "All right. But let's get everybody else out, first."
Gary stopped dead. "Candy! I hear her calling me!"
Matt Philips also stopped, the others with him. Hildebrand said, "I don't hear anything."
Maureen listened. Except for the hiss of air through the vents, and the throb of blood in her ears, there was silence.
"She's calling me!" Gary turned to the left. "Can't you hear her?" he pointed. "She's that way!"
"I don't hear anything," Jack Gorman said. "You're imagining things."
Maureen didn't say anything. She was watching Matt Philips closely. The psychic's expression did not change, but Maureen had the definite impression that he didn't disbelieve Gary. But then he was a psychic. He might know more than he was admitting; probably did, as a matter of fact.
"You're deaf!" Gary glared at Jack in disbelief. "She sounds like she's here in this room!"
The others were all staring at him now, except Maureen. She was watching the psychics. Lyla Cane was also looking at Philips, her face expressionless.
"You're crazy, Gary." That was Lara. "I don't hear a thing."
Gary opened his mouth for a hot retort when Philips cut him off. "He's not crazy. Some psychics can communicate with non-psychics who are very close to them. We discovered that awhile back, and Candy is Gary's sister. Stop and try to analyze, Gary. She's not here. She probably isn't even nearby. Where does it feel like she is? Is she in danger?"
Gary stopped short. His face took on a pensive look, as if he were listening hard.
"That way." He pointed. "Somewhere in that direction. But--" Again, he got that listening look. "Quite a ways off. Why does she sound so close?"
"She's a strong telepath with a link straight to you. Is she in danger?"
"I don't know. She's just scared. She's trying to hide from something."
"What's she afraid of? What is it?"
"I think it's the Centaur." He stopped, puzzled. "It's fading out! Candy! Candy are you all right? Candy!"
Philips gripped his arm. "She's all right, Gary. You'd know if she wasn't."
"How do you know?" Gary demanded.
"I know, trust me." Philips hesitated, clearly unsure how much to say. "This has happened before. The Terran Underground has a lot of psychics, you know." He stopped. "I've seen it myself. The psychic can only communicate with a non in times when she's very scared. She doesn't know she's doing it, either. Haven't you ever noticed this before?
Gary shook his head.
"You're sure?"
The boy started to answer, then paused. "No, I'm not sure. Candy's never really been scared before this trip. Yesterday, when the aircars were fighting, and today a few times, every time it was like I could feel how scared she was."
"It was happening, then," Philips said, apparently satisfied. "Since she was with you, you probably wouldn't have noticed the rest. You say you can't feel her mind now?"
"No."
"You don't feel anything wrong?"
"No."
"Then she's all right. If anything goes wrong, you'll know." Philips started onward again. The others followed. Maureen glanced at Gary, then at Philips.
"Are there a lot of psychics who can do whatever Candy's doing?" she asked, curiously.
Philips shook his head. "Not many, but there are a few. It's kind of an unusual talent. Convenient, too."
"I thought you said the fortress has mind shields," Jack remarked.
"It does. I can't sense Candy, except through Gary. This particular ability goes through standard shielding. We don't know why. Just one of those little quirks that turn up with psychic powers. There's still a lot we don't understand about them. If you get another call from her, Gary, let me know. We might be able to track her through it."
On they went until Maureen lost all sense of direction. The tunnels turned here and there, T crossings without number. There was no further contact with Candy. They were approaching a door when Lyla Cane grabbed Philips' arm.
"Matt! I'm getting a warning!"
What did she mean by that? Maureen wondered.
The door, four meters ahead of them began to grind slowly open. Philips turned sharply, pushing Maureen and Lara back.
"Down that hall!" he barked. "Quick!"
Maureen, her nerves keenly on edge, obeyed, adrenaline surging through her bloodstream. Glancing back, she caught an instant's impression of something moving behind the slowly widening door, something black and shaggy. And something thrust through the opening, like the muzzle of a pulse rifle. Then she was around the corner on flying feet, Matt Philips crowding her heels. There was a sound like thunder that made her ears ring, and flame ballooned past the corridor intersection.
"Run!" Philips shouted. "Turn to the right at the next hallway!"
Maureen ran, pumping her long legs as hard as she could. They rounded the corner, Lyla Cane in the lead. Ahead of them was another pair of sliding doors that opened as they approached. They charged toward it.
Casting a quick glance back, Maureen saw Matt Philips stop at the corner. In his hand he clutched an oversized blaster.
She skidded into the lift, nearly knocked off her feet by Lara. Philips thrust his blaster around the corner. The weapon roared, in an exact imitation of the Centaur's, then Philips was charging toward them, the exhausted blaster still clutched in one hand. He catapulted into the lift and the doors snapped smartly shut. They rocketed downward.
**********
(tbc)
