A Woman's Touch: 7/8
by Nancy Smith and Linda Garrick
Five minutes later the restroom door opened and Sue Perkins emerged, followed by Angela. The two girls split up at once. Sue retreated down the hallway, in the direction from which they had come, commandeering on the way a large gurney that had been parked in the hall. Angela watched her for a moment, took a deep breath and turned in the opposite direction. According to the sign posted high on the wall, there was another elevator this way.
When she turned the corner, she saw the bank of elevators some distance away. A small antigrav cart was parked in an alcove partway there and she appropriated it as she passed. Pushing it casually ahead of her, she continued on toward the elevators, passing two hospital employees on the way. No one so much as glanced at her.
The elevator bore her to the second level where the hospital pharmacy was located, and she emerged, pushing the little cart ahead of her.
The hallway was deserted as she approached the pharmacy. Angela pushed the cart through the doors and parked it next to the door. A finger of telekinetic energy reached upward to unscrew the lens of the security camera, throwing it out of focus long enough for her to accomplish her purpose.
The single pharmacist, a small, thin, sour-looking man with thinning brown hair, glanced up as she stepped before the window.
"I'm going on break!" he snapped. "You'll have to wait!"
Angela reached under the skirt of her scrub gown and drew the miniature blaster from its holster that she had strapped against her thigh with adhesive tape. Designed to be invisible to ordinary scanners, it had as much power and range as the larger, standard models. The pharmacist only had the time for a single, shocked gasp before the stun beam hummed, and he slumped forward across his desk.
She had limited time before someone noticed the security camera's malfunction. Angela placed a hand on the knob of the pharmacy door and the lock clicked back. Without hesitation, she seized the cart and pushed it into the room. Moving quickly, she locked the door behind her and slid the pharmacy window shut, then paused to readjust the security camera's lens. If anyone had noticed the incident at all, they would probably think it had been a minor malfunction that had corrected itself.
But she had no time to waste. The pharmacist hadn't stirred. Angela dragged him from his chair, hauled him across the floor by sheer force and left him in a corner behind a line of shelves. She glanced quickly around, then went to rip loose a cord from an unidentified machine that sat against one wall. With steady hands, she bound his wrists behind him. A roll of adhesive tape secured his ankles but she left his mouth unobstructed. When he awoke, he was bound to be sick from the stunbolt, and the last thing she wanted was for him to be asphyxiated by accident. Then, she turned to the business that had brought her here, and began to select the items that she needed, piling them carefully on the cart.
She worked as quickly as she could. As a mobile agent of the Terran Underground, and the psychic member of an Armageddon Team, she had taken the basic paramedical course given to all such roving agents, for one could never predict what sort of situation that one might encounter, and the members of such teams might be expected to assist injured comrades without the presence of a doctor.
As she was finishing, she heard the first sounds as the pharmacist began to awake. The man was gagging and moaning, and she winced at the distress that radiated from his mind. She waited until the inevitable results of the stunbolt had passed and then approached the bound man. The pharmacist was lying with his eyes closed. Angela moved quickly. She didn't wish to leave him where he was, but placing him where he might be able to summon help prematurely wasn't in her plans, either. She pulled him to the back of the room and deposited him behind a pile of unloaded crates, then used the roll of adhesive tape to gag him efficiently. The pharmacist glared at her with angry misery, but she didn't hesitate. Making sure his breathing would be unobstructed, she returned to her task. Within another minute she had finished, and paused for an instant to take a calming breath before opening the door to exit. Once again she temporarily disabled the security camera long enough to pass unobserved and left, locking the door behind her, with the keys to the pharmacy tucked in her pocket. As an additional measure, she propped the "Closed" sign in the pharmacy window as well. There were undoubtedly other keys to the pharmacy available, but anyone who wanted to enter would first try to find the pharmacist, or the keys, and only when that failed would they hunt for the extra keys -- thus buying her time.
Her next stop was the linen closet, where she helped herself to certain items. Finished at last, she returned down the corridor toward the elevator.
As the doors slid open, a voice called, "Hold the lift!"
Angela politely did so. A black and scarlet-clad figure hurried to enter after her. Angela saw the black stripe of a Patrol lieutenant on his helmet.
"Thanks," he said and punched the indicator for the fourth level. The elevator started to rise. Angela suppressed her irritation. Lieutenant Naples leaned back against the wall and yawned hugely.
The doors slid open on Fourth. Naples yawned again and exited. Angela pressed the indicator for the basement. As the elevator dropped, she leaned back against the wall and closed her eyes. This had to work, she told herself, fiercely. If it didn't, how would she live? How could she ever be happy without him? She couldn't conceive of loving any man but Kevin, no matter how nice he might be, or how happy her mother told her she could be with him.
The doors slid open and she straightened up at once. Sue would be waiting.
**********
Sue was indeed waiting at the entrance to the ambulance garage. Angela jumped as she saw, standing beside her companion, a tall, black and scarlet-clad figure. The patrolman was leaning against the wall, his helmet off, obviously interested in the pretty girl. Angela approached, locating the man's mind as she did so.
"Patrolman Shelley!" she snapped.
The patrolman spun and snapped to attention. "Yessir!"
"Why aren't you at your post? You know the rules about fraternizing with the natives!"
"Yessir! Sorry, sir!"
"Don't let it happen again!"
"No, sir!" The man departed in haste.
Sue let out her breath in a long sigh. "Thanks," she said. "He was awfully persistent. Nothing I said seemed to discourage him."
"He was bored and you were a welcome diversion," Angela said. "Let's get the stuff in."
Together, they loaded the gurney and the cart with Angela's supplies into the ambulance. Sue closed the doors, and Angela eased the vehicle forward toward an exit.
There was another patrolman at the exit, but he hardly glanced at them as he waved them on through. No security checks would, of course, be made on those people leaving the hospital. He leaned against the wall, puffing a forbidden cigarette as Angela rolled the ambulance past him.
She dropped Sue off at the parking lot, drove to a darkened alley two blocks from the hospital and waited. Shortly, the car bearing Sue and Sprinthvar pulled in behind her.
Sue got out and opened the rear door of the car. Angela jumped out of the ambulance and hurried to join her.
Sprinthvar was lounging in the rear seat, just as he had been when she had seen him last. His eyes were closed and there was a vacant smile on his lips. Sue touched his arm.
"Lord Sprinthvar? Wake up."
The Jilectan's smile widened. "Yes, my love?"
Angela reached past him to unlock the restrainers that confined his wrists, and Sue grasped his arm. "Come with us, M'lord. We want you to get in this other car where you can lie down."
The Jilectan chuckled softly. "Will you lie down with me, my love?"
Sue looked at Angela, disconcerted. Angela sighed and reached out to grasp Sprinthvar's arm. "Come on, Lord Sprinthvar. Let's go."
The Jilectan reached lazily for her. Angela eluded him with ease, grasped his arm and pulled. "Come on, M'lord."
"Oh, very well." The Jilectan slid from the car, straightened up and smiled at Sue. "Hello, my love! You are very beautiful."
"Come on," Angela said, pulling gently on his arm. "This way, now. Get in, and you can lie down in there."
"Very well." Sprinthvar started toward the ambulance, then, as they began to help him inside, leaned forward and gave Sue a moist kiss.
She sputtered and wiped her lips with her sleeve. The alien tried to repeat the action, chuckling softly as she backed away. Angela applied pressure to his arm. "This way, M'lord. Hurry, now."
The foolish smile, and Sprinthvar went with the pressure, crawling into the ambulance. Angela eased him down onto the larger gurney that Sue had brought, and shoved the original one from the vehicle.
"That does it." Angela sat down beside the Jilectan. "Go to sleep now, M'lord. Everything's all right."
He smiled vacantly at her. Angela stroked his forehead gently. "Go to sleep, M'lord."
Sprinthvar's eyes closed. Sue stared at her in awe. "How did you do that?"
"I'm an illusionist, remember. Illusions are nothing but the power of suggestion. He's very compliant right now, because of the sweetgrass."
"I like him better this way -- at least, I think I do." Sue wiped her mouth a second time. "Wow! That's one kiss I'll never forget!"
Angela smiled. "How was it?"
"Sensual -- and very wet! Does he think we're some of his Ladies or something?"
"I doubt it. He doesn't care what's going on, but he still knows we're Terrans. He might have a few Terran lovers. A lot of Jils do, you know."
"I've heard that. I didn't think it could be true, though."
"It's true, all right." Angela took two rolls of gauze from the cart and handed one of them to Sue. "Kevin told me about it. He said the Ladies think of it as a status symbol -- how many Terran lovers they have. The males do it, too, but they hide it."
"Gosh, what a strange system!" Sue began to wind the bandage around the Jilectan's chest. "Did Kevin ever -- I mean --"
Angela found herself giggling. "Of course. He was a Viceregal patrolman, you know, and he's very good looking. A patrolman doesn't tell a Lady no -- she'd kill him if he did."
"That's terrible!"
"I suppose so," Angela said, "but I don't suppose the patrolmen suffer too much -- at least, I never got that impression from Kevin. And there are a lot of other systems out there just as strange." She began to bandage Sprinthvar's hands in a kind of mitten effect to conceal his fingers.
"I know." Sue giggled, too. "Don't the Procyon ladies have more than one husband?"
"Yes. The commoners have two, the noblewomen can have four. The royalty can have six." Angela tied Sprinthvar's hands in restraints, checked the chest bandages and helped Sue secure the gauze firmly. "On the other hand, they don't have any infidelity."
"Really?"
"None. There isn't even a word for it in their language."
"Wow! I guess that could be a plus, all right. Now what do we do with him?"
Angela covered him with a sheet. "I'm going to put in an IV. Bandage his face for me. Gauze here and here --" She indicated the spots. "And around the forehead here. Make sure you cover the whole side of the face."
A few moments later they were finished. Angela examined their work with the care of an artist, poured a red-colored antiseptic onto the white gauze, smeared his face liberally with it, and nodded. "That'll do for now. We can fix him better after we're in. Where's the oxygen mask?"
"Right here."
"Good. Tie it on." She turned on the oxygen flow and set the demand regulator. "There. Now he won't suffocate." Finally, she pulled the gurney's straps over Sprinthvar's large figure and fastened them securely. "I think that should hold him. He's going into the sleep stage now -- should be for another six hours. If we're not finished by then, it won't matter."
**********
The air ambulance came gliding softly back into the hospital garage. As they pulled up at the entrance, Patrolman Connor O'Brien stepped out, his hand raised in a signal to stop. The ambulance driver, a lean, sour-faced man with a shock of straggling grey hair, leaned out the window, thrusting an ID card at him rather like a dagger.
"Here! I'm an Undergrounder sneaking in to rescue the prisoner!"
O'Brien sighed. This wasn't the first sarcastic ambulance driver of the evening, but their resentment of his presence seemed to be increasing. He ran the card through the identostamp -- or the weird-looking contraption that the Terrans used as one -- and received a clearance. He handed the card back. The driver snatched it from his hand and the ambulance jerked sharply, rather as if the driver had slammed it into forward in a burst of temper.
Angela pulled the ambulance into a space in the far corner. She and Sue got out, locking the door and Angela pocketed the key. "I hope the guy who drives this thing doesn't miss his key for a while longer."
"If he does, he'll waste time looking for it in Emergency," Sue said, cheerfully. "I got it out of his pocket while we were mopping spilled coffee off his pants."
Angela looked at her with respect. "That's right! I never did ask how you got it! I was just going to hotwire the ambulance."
Sue grinned smugly. "I figured that if you could do it, so could I. I just made sure his attention was somewhere else. Speaking of which, how did we get in?"
"The computer didn't know I was driving an ambulance," Angela said. "And it does have me listed as an employee. In housekeeping."
Sue laughed softly. "I was afraid I was going to have to use this thing, if he noticed anything wrong." She nodded briefly at Barney's blaster tucked between the seats.
"Well, let's hope we don't need to do any shooting," Angie said. "Leave it here. The hospital's sensors will detect a weapon if we try to take it into the actual building."
"How come it didn't spot yours?" Sue asked.
"They only give these to special intelligence teams," Angela explained. "It's specially made. I have to be able to sneak into places that I'm not supposed to be, and I need to be armed with something that sensors can't spot. That's one reason it's so small." She glanced around. "Let's go."
They opened the rear of the vehicle and floated Sprinthvar out. The Jilectan was snoring, the sound muffled by the hissing of the oxygen, and the bulky mask covering most of his face. They pushed him through the cavernous, echoing space of the underground garage, past the synthastone pillars and shapes of parked ambulances, ghostly in the gloom. Once they heard the sound of the elevator, and shoved Sprinthvar behind one of the large vehicles as a driver and an ambulance attendant dashed by, leaped into an ambulance and pulled away. Angela heard the siren come on just as the vehicle rolled past Patrolman O'Brien's guard post.
Once in the elevator they were safe, but awkward questions would have been asked had someone found them with an apparently seriously ill patient in the ambulance garage. Angela drew a deep breath. The easy part was over; now the most critical part of her plan was about to commence.
They stopped on the second floor. Angela and Sue exited with the Jilectan into a broad hallway. Angela scanned carefully.
Several nurses and other hospital personnel were clustered at the main desk, well down the hall. One was knitting, another reading a torrid love story. The medications nurse was checking her IV medications and complaining bitterly of a patient who apparently tended to adjust the speed of his IV drip to suit himself. Angela gestured silently and the two intruders turned in the opposite direction, floating the Jilectan along between them. They encountered a security camera at the junction of hallways, and Angela reached out with her telekinetic power to unscrew the lens, allowing them to pass unseen.
There was an empty room just beyond the intersection and they turned into it, pushing the Jilectan before them. It was apparently a private room for the more affluent patients. Angela and Sue pushed Sprinthvar's gurney into the bathroom and upended it in the shower. With the antigravity field in place, the change in position didn't affect the alien at all. Angela wiped the back of her hand across her forehead.
"He ought to be safe here for a few minutes," she said. "You stay with him. I have to find out a couple of things."
There was a beeping noise. For an instant, she hesitated, unable to think what it was. The beeping sounded again.
"It's your communicator," Sue said abruptly. "Strike Commander Fong must be calling."
"Right." Angela shook her head. Her brain felt muzzy. Too much strain and tension, too much responsibility over the last hours. She withdrew the communicator from her pocket. "Yeah, Fong? Do you have the money?"
"It's here, lady," Fong's voice replied, sounding as tired and strained as she felt. "I'm at the booth. Now, I want proof of Sprinthvar's condition."
Angela didn't answer. She triggered the communicator signal that would start her videophone recording, showing the picture that she had taken earlier of the Jilectan singing softly to himself in the back seat of the car.
"Here's your precious Jil, Fong. He's drugged to the gills. You can have him back after you deliver the ransom."
Angela turned off her communicator. Delivery of the ransom, the instructions for which Fong was receiving now, would win her perhaps another hour at the most. If she didn't have Kevin out of here pretty shortly, it would be all over -- for both of them.
**********
8
The hospital cafeteria was, of course, closed on the night shift, but there were vending machines lined along the walls. Four persons were gathered there, three of them sipping coffee, the fourth eating potato chips from a bag. They were discussing Bronson in hushed tones.
" ... Just missed his lungs," the woman eating the potato chips was saying. "They must have beaten him up before they shot him, because he's got cuts all over his face. Really nice-looking, too. Cuter than his posters."
The other three women indicated their interest. Angela extended her probe toward the talkative employee's mind.
The woman was Kevin's special nurse, and in her mind was a clear picture of how he appeared. Angela seized on the opportunity to learn what she needed. If this hadn't happened, she would have obtained the information some other way, but this was an unexpected bonus. Also, clear to read in the nurse's mind was the name of Kevin's doctor, as well as his present location -- napping in the doctor's lounge.
Armed with the necessary information, she was off, returning along the hallway to the room where Sprinthvar and Sue were patiently awaiting her.
When she entered the room Sue emerged from the bathroom, instantly aware of Angela's presence. "Did you get what you needed?"
"Yes. We need to make a few adjustments," Angela told her.
Together, they repositioned bandages to correspond with the nurse's memory of Kevin's facial coverings. Angela stepped back at last, surveying the result with satisfaction.
"You can't really tell *what* he is, can you?"
Sue was also studying the Jilectan's appraisingly. "You know, Angie, his hair's the wrong color. Kevin's isn't that light, is it? I mean, it looks more golden in the poster I have of him."
Angela nodded. "Yeah, some, but I don't think anyone will notice." She wiped her hands on a paper towel. "Okay, next step. I'll be back in a few minutes."
The surgeon's lounge was directly beside the Surgical Suite, on the third floor. Angela went to the door and concentrated a moment, searching for the presence of other minds in the room. The doctor was the only occupant of the lounge. Angela opened the door and went quietly across the room to where Dr. Nguyen was sprawled face down on one of the beds provided for the convenience of the doctors to catch a few minutes of much-needed sleep between their assigned duties. His scrub clothing lay discarded on the floor and the pillow was pulled over his head. His snores stopped abruptly as the door closed behind Angela.
"What?" he growled.
Angela pulled out her blaster. The doctor hadn't moved.
"This better be important," Nguyen muttered. "Mrs. Baines' hemorrhoids bothering her again?"
"Not exactly," Angela said, quietly.
At the sound of her soft, feminine voice, the doctor sat up abruptly, yanking the bedspread around him. "What the devil?"
"Get up," Angela said. "Get your scrubs back on."
The doctor stared at her. "Is that thing what it looks like?"
"Yes. I'm a member of the Terran Underground, Doctor, and if you don't do what I say, I'll have to persuade you. Put your scrubs on. Hurry."
The doctor reached for the scrub pants and began to pull them on. "Terran Underground, huh? You wouldn't be Angie by any chance?"
"Angie?"
"Mr. Bronson was muttering your name when he came out from under the anesthesia." The doctor pulled on the scrub shirt. "Are you Angie?"
"Yes, I am." Angela swallowed hard. "Angela Westover, doctor. I'm going to rescue Bronson, and you're going to help me. If you betray me to the patrolmen, I'll take you with me."
The doctor nodded. "Sounds fair to me. You wouldn't be a relative of Alan Westover, would you?"
"First cousin."
"And a psychic, I presume, which means I can't surprise you -- not that I'd try. I'll do whatever you say." He raised an eyebrow. "I take it you have a job for me?"
Angela told him. Both of his eyebrows went up this time. "I don't suppose I should ask why?"
"Just do it, please."
"Whatever you say." The doctor turned to the wall communicator. A moment later the face of Kevin's nurse appeared on the screen.
"Yes, Doctor?"
"I'd like a report on Bronson's condition," he said.
"He's doing about the same," the nurse told him. "Vitals are stable, and he's responding to verbal stimuli." A soft laugh. "And you ought to hear *how* he's responding!"
Angela repressed a smile, being familiar with Kevin's vocabulary.
"Hmm," the doctor said. "I've been thinking, we probably ought to do a scan on him. Send him down to Radiology in about fifteen minutes or so."
"A scan? Now?" The nurse sounded less than enthusiastic. "He isn't very cooperative, yet. He's not going to like being moved."
"All the more reason. He should be cooperating better than that by now. There may be some damage that we didn't pick up on earlier."
"All right, if you say so." The nurse sounded resigned. "Fifteen minutes, huh?"
"Yes. I'll notify them. They'll be waiting." The doctor disconnected.
**********
Patrolman Dirk Ivyflower watched as Bronson was placed on an antigrav gurney, his tubes arranged and rearranged, his IVs rehung, and a sheet spread across his large frame. The former subcommander muttered a half-intelligible cussword as someone jarred him. His hands were carefully bound to the gurney rails to prevent him pulling out the tubes and he was floated out, accompanied by Ivyflower and his companion, Harry White.
Both men were nervous. This would be exactly the chance that an agent of the Terran Underground would be looking for. Still, there had been no sign of suspicious activity so far -- except for the Jil's kidnapping, and that apparently wasn't the Terran Underground.
They descended one level and disembarked on the third floor. The nurse pushed the gurney along, looking straight ahead, not glancing at him, but Ivyflower could almost feel her anger and resentment. She was kind of cute, too, he thought, unhappily. Too bad ...
They reached a door labeled in the Terran lettering, which Ivyflower couldn't read, but the nurse pushed it open.
"Bronson here for Dr. Nguyen," she said.
"Bring him in." The Rad tech was a young woman with a mass of dark curls, cut short on her head. She wore a white lab coat, protective goggles and a sour expression.
The nurse pushed the gurney through. "Call us when you're ready and we'll come and get him."
"Sure." The tech steered the gurney over to a mass of machines in the center of the room. Ivyflower followed.
The technician glanced at him. "You can go now, 'trol. I promise not to tote him out over my broad shoulders."
"I have to stay and watch him," Ivyflower told her.
The tech shrugged. "Fine with me." She began to drape Bronson with lead shielding. "Pick up all the radiation you like. I don't suppose you wanted kids, anyway."
Ivyflower gritted his teeth. "Is there *really* that much?"
The woman laughed shortly, not answering, and began to adjust a large scanning device over Bronson's ribs and abdomen. Ivyflower watched her nervously. "I'm not supposed to leave him, you know."
The tech finished adjusting the machine and glanced at him briefly. "Look, mister, we both got our jobs to do. Personally, I don't care what you do, but the boss'll have my hide if I let you stay. Step out just for half a minute and let me get this over with."
"I'm not supposed to ..."
"Oh for Pete's sake!" she snapped. "That's a supply closet!" She pointed to a door. "And that's the generator room!" She pointed to the other door. "They're both locked at night, and anyway, they don't lead anywhere. Do you want me to call the supervisor and get the key so you can check them out?"
The patrolman hesitated. The woman sighed gustily. "Oh damn! All right, there's the phone. His number's listed above it. *You* call him." She sat down, glaring at him. "It'll take at least thirty minutes for him to get here, and I've got another scan to do in twenty -- but *go on*!"
Her scorn stung him. "Well ..." He went over and tried both doors. They were, as she had already stated, locked. "Well, okay, but I'll be right outside."
"Great," she said. "My little heart will be going pit-a-pat the whole time."
Ivyflower went to the door. "Look, lady, I got my orders. You don't have to be --" She shut the door in his face. "-- Such a bitch about it," he finished to the blank panel.
White looked at him and made a crude suggestion regarding the tech's future.
"Yeah," Ivyflower agreed, feelingly. "Double for me."
**********
As Angela turned from the panel, the door to the supposed generator room slid open, revealing Sue, guiding Sprinthvar's gurney by one hand. Behind her on the floor, and face down, lay the real rad tech and Dr. Nguyen, bound hand and foot, and tightly gagged with adhesive tape.
Angela was already pulling away the machines, and touched the control on Kevin's gurney to float him up and away into the other room. When she came back, Sue already had Sprinthvar in his place, and was rearranging his tubes.
"That's great," Angela breathed, surveying the substitution with the eye of a stage manager. "If I didn't know better, I'd swear it was Kevin, wouldn't you?"
Sue nodded wordlessly.
"Okay," Angela said, "go back in there with him. I'll get rid of the peanut gallery."
"Okay." Sue vanished back into the other room.
Angela pushed the button on the videophone. The ICU nurse's face appeared. "All ready," Angela said.
"Be there in a minute." The screen cut off. Angela went to the door and slid it open.
"All done," she said. "He's all yours, 'trols."
"Listen, baby," the first classer began.
"I'm not your baby, 'trol," Angela said, monitoring his emotional output for any trace of suspicion. "And I wouldn't *be* your baby for all the tea in China. You ought to be ashamed of yourselves."
The second classer scowled at her. "You a sympathizer, bitch?"
"I'm a human being, 'trol, which is more than I can say for you."
Ivyflower raised a fist. Angela laughed. "Go ahead, hit me! How are you going to explain that you beat up a radiology tech, huh? You'll raise a stink from one end of the Autonomy to the other."
Gritting his teeth, the man lowered his fist. He reached past Angela and yanked out the gurney that contained the Jilectan. Both patrolmen were glaring at her, and hardly glanced at the figure on the stretcher. Even if they did, they probably wouldn't notice the difference in hair color, Angela reassured herself. Still, it would be better to keep their minds off of him until the nurse arrived. She didn't want them to have a chance to think about it.
"I don't know how you guys can look in the mirror," she said. "Turning a wounded man over to the Jilectans. Shame on you!"
"Shut up, lady," White snapped. "I've had about all I can take from you!"
Angela snorted. "I haven't said half of what I'm thinking!"
The elevator doors opened and the nurse emerged, striding toward them. Ivyflower growled an obscenity at her, and Angela returned the favor, pushing the gurney toward the nurse. "Thanks, Jane."
"See you later." The nurse guided the gurney back toward the elevator. Angela went back through the door, which closed behind her. Sue opened the inner door again and peered out.
"Everything okay?"
"Yes."
"I was afraid they were going to hit you."
"They wouldn't dare -- not on a Terran world, in a Terran hospital. Their sarge would skin them alive." Angela went over to Kevin and rested a hand on his shoulder. "Kevin," she said, softly. "It's Angie."
Above the bandages, Kevin's eyes opened. Sue turned away, suddenly appearing interested in one of the big scanning machines.
"I want you to lie still and not make any noise," Angela said. "We're getting you out, and you mustn't attract any attention. Okay?"
"Angie!" Kevin's voice sounded unbelieving. "Am I dreamin'?"
Angela bent and pressed her lips to his, below the bandage. "No," she said, swallowing the lump in her throat.
"Baby!" He sounded almost ready to cry. "You gotta get outta here! There's 'trols comin' outta the walls!"
"Be quiet," she told him, and kissed him again. "Don't make any noise and we'll be okay." She glanced regretfully at the bound forms of the doctor and the radiology tech on the floor. The doctor was radiating apprehension at what he had been forced to do by Angela. Inserting tubes in various places to make their masquerade complete was bound to be considered -- to say the least of it --humiliating to the young Jilectan noble. Dr. Nguyen was not a political man. In common with most Terrans, he had no love for the aliens, and hadn't been happy over the idea of handing a helpless man over to them, but he'd cooperated because he had to. He was secretly a little relieved that Angela had shown up, but also a little worried about the possible consequences of his action.
Angela took pity on him. "I'm sorry to leave you like this, Doctor," she said, removing the goggles and setting them on a shelf, "but I don't have a choice. It's for your protection, really. Even Sprinthvar can't expect you to stand up against a pair of armed Terran psychics." She smiled. "They won't do anything to you. It wouldn't be a very smart thing to do, and whatever else we may think about the Viceroy, he isn't stupid."
The doctor's worry lessened slightly. Angela smiled at the tech. "I'm sorry, Loralie."
The rad tech's eyes crinkled at the corners, although she couldn't smile because of the gag. Angela read relief. The tech wasn't in the least angry.
She stepped out and closed the door, locking it behind her.
Sue glanced nervously at her. "I hope they don't spot anything now. If anyone decides to check his feet, they're going to notice something."
"Let's move," Angela said. She swallowed the lump of nervousness in her throat and went to the door that opened into the hall. She listened with her special senses for a moment, then slid it open. The two young women went out, guiding the antigrav gurney between them.
The elevator was only a short distance away, and it sensed their approach. The door opened obligingly. Angela guided Kevin through the opening.
"Hold the lift!" a voice shouted.
Angela turned, and her heart shot into her throat. A patrolman was sprinting down the hallway toward them. Involuntarily, her hand moved toward the blaster that she had concealed beneath the lab coat. On the gurney, Kevin stirred and cussed softly, straining against the restraints that held him to the stretcher.
"Thanks!" The patrolman boarded, squeezing in beside Sue. He wasn't, Angela realized then, pursuing them. In fact, he hardly glanced at them as he jammed his thumb on the control panel.
Then, with a shock, she recognized him. The silver helmet sported the four red stripes and the black-edged star that could belong to only one person -- Strike Commander Fong.
The Strike Commander was not feeling well. His stomach hurt terribly and his emotions leaped out at her -- the primary ones fear and frustration. She saw her companion flinch slightly at the raw emotions surging from the man's mind. Carefully, Angela extended a mind probe.
The Strike Commander was an easy read. Sprinthvar's kidnapper had not picked up the ransom, and there had been no further contact with her. Fong was deathly afraid that something that he had done had frightened her and caused the demise of the Viceroy's nephew. If that had happened, Fong's career was over, and he might as well bolt now, while he was still alive. Also, his stomach was burning like fire, and he was thinking longingly of his medication, left in the Strike Commander's cabin aboard the "Orion".
Angela couldn't restrain a slight feeling of pity for the man. Fong's ulcer was really giving him a hard time, and was probably going to kill him before many more years passed. She saw Sue make a slight face at the man's continued distress.
The elevator slid to a stop on the fourth level and the doors opened. Fong started to exit, then gave a faint moan and doubled forward. He sank to his knees, still clutching his stomach and slowly collapsed through the doors. His consciousness slowly faded out.
Angela looked quickly around. The orderly standing in the hallway outside the elevator stared in shock at the big form of the Strike Commander.
"Good Lord!" He came to life all at once and leaped forward to kneel beside the still figure.
Angela sighed. There was nothing to do. Quickly, she stepped from the elevator. "Help me get him out of the elevator," she ordered.
She and the orderly caught the Strike Commander beneath his arms and dragged him free of the elevators. Glancing quickly at Sue's appalled face, she took control of the situation. "Take the patient," she told Sue. "I'll be with you in a few minutes."
Sue swallowed. "Okay."
The elevator doors closed. Angela glanced at the orderly. "Get help. I'll stay with him."
"Right!" The orderly sprinted away. Angela looked quickly around for the stairs.
Too late. Blast that orderly, anyway! Here he came, running back down the hallway, a doctor and two nurses hurrying along behind him.
"What happened?" The doctor dropped to one knee beside Fong's unconscious form. One of the nurses began to remove the Strike Commander's silver helmet.
"I was in the elevator with him," Angela said. "He just keeled over." She paused. It wouldn't hurt to give them a little information. "A little while ago, I heard one of the patrolmen say something about 'old Fong's pet ulcer kicking up again' -- and he did grab his stomach before he fell. That's all I can tell you."
"Get a gurney." Dr. Delgado glanced briefly at the orderly, who turned and hurried away again. The doctor felt for Fong's pulse. "Hmm. If he has an ulcer it may be hemorrhaging. The lord knows the man's been under a lot of stress in the last few hours." He glanced up as the orderly returned with an antigrav stretcher, and a Patrol lieutenant in tow.
"Get him on the gurney and take him to an examining room. I'll be there in a minute." He turned to the lieutenant. "Lieutenant -- Naples, is it?"
The man nodded curtly. "That's right. What happened to my Strike Commander?" He surveyed the orderly and three nurses moving Fong to the gurney.
"He passed out. We don't know what's wrong, yet. Tell me, does he have any history of a stomach ulcer?"
"Yeah, he does. He's always gulpin' antacids like they're candy." Naples spoke with a strong Shallockian accent.
"It may be bleeding. We'll find out. Do I have permission to treat him? Who's the senior officer here?"
"I am." Naples hesitated. "Yeah, I guess so. Go ahead."
Angela caught the sensation of irritation and worry. The fate of Sprinthvar and the responsibility for guarding the prisoner now rested on his shoulders, and Naples was not enjoying the sensation. He followed the gurney as Fong was floated hurriedly away.
Angela had now spotted a sign marked "Stairs", and she made a beeline for them with all the controlled haste at her command. She raced down them as fast as she could move. Time was running out. She could almost hear the ticking of the time clock in her head. Too many things depended on chance, now. The pharmacist could be found at any minute, or the doctor and radiology tech. Sprinthvar, too, could be discovered.
She was panting and winded when she reached the door marked "Basement", and pushed it open. Cool air, laden with the scent of oil, synthastone and damp, wafted into her face as she stepped out into the ambulance garage, the echoes of the closing door bouncing about the cavernous dimness. Her footsteps echoed loudly as she hurried to the spot where she and Sue had left the ambulance.
Sue was there, with Kevin, crouched between the ambulance and the wall. The black girl looked relieved and wide-eyed as Angela hurried up to them.
"He's sort of been calling you," she said. "I tried to tell him you were coming, but he didn't listen. I mean --"
"Let's get him into the ambulance." Angela unlocked the ambulance doors and reached out to guide the stretcher through the opening.
Kevin stirred convulsively. "Angie," he muttered. "Baby --" His powerful arms strained at the soft cloth restraints binding them.
Angela and Sue pushed the antigrav gurney through and into the vehicle and Angela extinguished the litter's field. She reached out to take her partner's hand. "Kevin, I'm right here. Lie still. Sue and I are getting you out, but you mustn't make any noise."
Sue was closing the rear doors. Kevin muttered under his breath, inhaled deeply and shouted her name. Angela clapped her hand over his mouth. "Kevin! Please! Don't make any noise! They'll hear you!"
"Angie?" His eyes fluttered open and focussed on her face.
"I'm here," she said. "Don't make any noise."
"Sure, baby." He turned his head, taking in his surroundings. "What th'hell?"
"I'll explain later. Be very quiet, now." She bent and pressed her lips to his. "Okay?"
"Yeah." He yanked against the restraints again. "Hey! Lemme go!"
"In a minute." Angela turned to Sue. "Take care of him while I get us out of here." She went forward to the driver's seat. Kevin started to shout her name again, the sound cut off abruptly as Sue apparently clapped her hand over his mouth.
The ambulance moved backward out of the parking space. Angela slapped it into forward.
The communicator crackled. "This is Lieutenant Naples. Seal off the building at once! Members of the Terran Underground are in the hospital. Sensor Team Three to the second floor pharmacy on the double!"
They must have found the pharmacist, Angela surmised. She swung the ambulance toward the exit. The doors were beginning to slide shut, she saw to her dismay, and three more patrolmen had joined the lone sentry at the opening.
They weren't going to let the ambulance by, and the four of them were too many for her illusionary powers.
She was out of options. Searchers would find the doctor and tech soon, and the switch would be discovered, then the hunt for Kevin and his rescuers would begin in earnest. She couldn't hope to hide him or herself -- or Sue -- for long.
Angela gritted her teeth, hit the siren and gunned the motor. The ambulance roared toward the exit, gaining speed. With her right hand, she grabbed up Barney's blaster from between the seats and flipped it to overload with one motion of her thumb. Mentally, she counted, steering the ambulance in a direct line for the closing doors.
She saw the four guards, their mouths wide open as the crazy driver bore down on them with the speed of an express train. One man broke out of his frozen astonishment and reached for his sidearm.
Four! With a sweep of her arm, Angela threw the blaster, stomping hard on the brake at the same instant.
The ground wheels screeched in agonized protest as the ambulance skidded and bucked to a stop. She heard yells of alarm as the guards saw the small object bouncing toward them. The exit cleared like magic.
Angela ducked, throwing up one arm to protect her face from the concussion that blew out the doors, but her foot was already pressing the accelerator flat to the floor. Bits of flying debris pattered on the windshield and roof of the fleeing vehicle as they burst through the entrance to freedom, but she slammed the lift control to on, almost before they cleared the disintegrating doors.
She was shoved deep into her seat as the ambulance leaped into the air, making an illegal takeoff from the driveway. She heard blaster fire; someone shouted, and the left window radiated cracks. Another shot bounced off her rear fender; then they were too high. The ambulance raced away into the still night sky with the scream of tortured engines and a roar of wind past the open right window that nearly took her hair out by the roots.
They were pursued. In her rear scanner, she could see the flashing lights of at least three Patrol cars. They were far to the rear, but she wasn't gaining any ground. An ambulance was necessarily fast, but so were they. Angela made a sharp turn and headed like a bullet for the skippership that she and Sue had left in the countryside beyond the city. It was going to be close.
Somewhere, a voice was shouting at her to halt. She ignored it. A glance at the rear scanner screen showed that more cars had joined the chase. From the side and above, another car swooped in, firing at her. A shot bounced off the opposite door. The cracked left window collapsed inward, showering the seat with plastic. Angela swerved away, reaching for her own blaster. Maybe she could wing the driver --
More shots from above. With a shock of unreality, she saw the Patrol aircar wrapped in flames, plummeting downward toward the countryside below.
"Back off, 'trols!" The voice was so like Kevin's that her heart leaped with elation and began to pound like a hammer in her chest. "Back off, or I blow you out of the sky!"
It was Mark. She knew it. Mark Linley, and no doubt Alan, come in the nick of time. A skippership dropped into her line of vision, the doors to the tiny lifeboat hangar wide open.
"In, Angie! Quick!" Her cousin's mental voice was so loud and clear that she could swear that he was in the cab of the racing ambulance with her. Gritting her teeth, she aimed straight for the tiny opening.
In a less desperate situation, she could never have done it, but now there was no time to hesitate. The skippership matched her course and speed with the almost inhuman precision of a psychic pilot. It must be Alan at the controls, she thought. No one else she knew had that kind of skill in such trying circumstances. As she watched, the skipper's weapons fired again, and another Patrol craft spun toward the dark countryside below them, trailing fire from its rear end. The ambulance shot into the hangar with centimeters to spare on either side, and pancaked to a stop on bare metal, its engines dying.
Angela leaned back in the seat, her eyes closed. She hadn't even been aware of her steering hands on the controls. It had been more instinct than conscious thought.
With a clang, the doors closed behind her. There was a momentary heaviness of acceleration, and then a slight quiver. Blaster fire. One of the Patrol cars must have gotten in a lucky shot. Their own blasters went off once, then again. Angela sat perfectly still, holding her breath.
More blaster fire, and then nothing. Nothing for several minutes. She opened her eyes cautiously, reaching for the safety webbing binding her in. The ship jolted suddenly, and Alan's voice said calmly, "Hyperspace. You can get up now, Angie. We'll be right there."
**********
tbc
