The Crystal Demon: 9/?
by Nancy Smith and Linda Garrick
Alan drew a long breath and tried to quiet his heart rate. Mark was sitting up, blinking at him in the dimness. "What's up?"
"Nothing. Go back to sleep."
"You linked with me. What's goin' on?"
Alan told him, and Mark's lips pursed in a silent whistle. "Psychics!"
Alan nodded. "The Jils aren't going to like this if they find out."
"You said it! Psychic natives! Could you tell what they looked like?"
"No. Just the mind, and only for an instant. It was afraid of me."
Mark sighed. "Nothin' else happened while I was asleep, I hope."
"I contacted Lyn Parnell."
"You *did*?"
"Well, she didn't know it. I tried to talk to her, but she wouldn't listen. She's never used her abilities, except subconsciously, so she wouldn't recognize a telepathic communication."
"Yeah." Mark yawned. "I guess it's about time to wake Julia up, huh?"
"I'm awake, Mark." Julia sat up. "You let me oversleep, Alan."
"Sorry," Alan said. "I wasn't watching the time."
"I guess not." She stood up and stretched. "Okay, lie down and go to sleep."
Alan hesitated. "Maybe I'd better stay awake -- with those things out there."
Linley shook his head. "You gotta sleep some time. Besides, you said the thing was scared of you. Doesn't sound too dangerous to me."
"What about the 'trols?"
"Look," Mark said, "You hafta sleep sometime. You're the only psychic we got, and if you give out on us we're in trouble."
Julia put a sisterly arm around him and kissed him on the cheek. "Go to sleep. If I even *think* I hear something, I'll call you. Deal?"
"I guess so." Alan picked a spot cushioned by ferns and lay down. His head was aching, he realized suddenly. In fact, his whole body ached. But he couldn't sleep -- not with that thing lurking out there ...
The morning sun woke him. He started up in panic at the realization that he'd been asleep. Julia glanced over at him and smiled.
"Good morning. Nothing bothered us, as you can see. Want some breakfast?"
Alan blinked, suddenly aware of a ravenous hunger and of the crackle of flames. Julia had kindled a small fire and was grilling the decapitated bodies of several large fish impaled on long sticks. The smell was ambrosial.
He stood up, aware of the ache in his legs and shoulders. It must be very early for the sky overhead was a pale blue, speckled with small, bright clouds and to the west it was still dark enough for him to make out a few faint sparks of light that might be stars. Even through the concealing trees, he could tell that the eastern horizon must be ablaze with a fiery sunrise. Birds called everywhere.
"I looked for fruit," Julia said. "There isn't any around. Maybe it's the wrong time of the year."
"It shouldn't be," Alan said. "It's midsummer. Maybe Kasal's just too cold to grow fruit."
"Midgard's colder than this," Julia said, "and it's got fruit."
Mark sat up, then scrambled to his feet, cursing. "What th' hell! A fire!"
"There's no smoke, Mark," Alan said quietly.
"The wood's dry." Julia's voice was frosty. "Would you rather have raw fish for breakfast?"
"Better raw fish than a Patrol search party! Why didn't you just use your blaster to cook the things?"
Julia went pink. "A blaster to cook fish? You'd incinerate it!"
"Not if you used a low setting."
Julia stood up. "Drat you, Mark! I've had just about all I can stand out of you! If ..."
"Oh yeah, sweetheart? If you weren't so hell bent determined t'do things *your* way, we might just survive this little venture. But you're so damn --"
Alan stepped between them. "Easy, Mark. We can put the fire out. There's no sense arguing about it."
Julia had regained her poise. "You're right, Alan. There's no sense arguing with *him*, no matter what the issue."
"Or with you, *Lieutenant*! This ain't no Girl Scout cookout, y'know! That fire coulda led a search party right to us, but do you think o' that? Hell, no! All you're thinkin' about is that the fish gets done medium well -- crispy on the outside, juicy on the inside --"
"You should hear yourself, Strike Commander Linley, *sir*! You're so damned used to telling everybody what to do, you just can't get out of the habit, can you?"
"Look, Lieutenant --"
"You may outrank me, *Major*, but you're hardly in a position to send me to the Borantium cinnabar mines, so just --"
"Well, I can sure as hell *try*!" Mark's face was as red as Julia's, now. "You keep a civil tongue in your head, Lieutenant, or you're gonna find out a few things about me -- things that might surprise you!"
"*Nothing* about you would surprise me, Major Linley! -- unless, of course, you decided to act like a human being for a change!"
"Stop!" Alan shouted in exasperation. "That's an order, and *I* outrank *both* of you!" He turned and stamped out the fire. Julia and Mark glared at each other.
There was a tense silence. Alan bent and removed the sticks from the still-glowing ashes. The fish was a trifle overdone, but still quite edible. Without speaking, he handed one of them to each of the others and took the last one, himself. Mark grinned abruptly.
"Sorry," he said.
"It's okay." Alan took a bite and glanced sideways at Julia, who stood apart, looking cool and indifferent, although still somewhat red in the face.
"How did you catch them, Julia?" he asked, trying to smooth things over a bit.
Her expression softened. "Tactful Alan. Alan the peacemaker." She glanced sideways at Mark and gave a mocking smile. "Hook and line, made with a branch, a piece of string and a bent hairpin. Didn't think I was so resourceful, did you, Major Linley?"
Mark snorted. "I ain't never said that, sweetheart. I was just sayin' --"
"Mark," Alan said.
Linley stopped. "Oops. Okay, I'll shut up."
They finished breakfast quickly and buried their campfire. Alan's thoughts went to Lyn again, and he reached out with his mind, scanning and trying to locate her again. Almost at once he succeeded in pinpointing her direction. She was southeast of them although he wasn't sure how far, and moving away at an angle.
*Lyn.* He spoke her name in his mind, willing her to hear him. She was crying. He could sense her distress easily, the sound of her sobs reaching him through the half-formed link.
*Lyn.* How could she fail to hear him? The emanations of her mind were almost overwhelming. *Lyn, answer me!*
She didn't notice. He could hear her sobs becoming more violent. *Lyn, listen to me!*
A hand closed on his arm. "You tryin' t'call Lyn?"
Alan nodded. "Sorry. Did you say something to me?"
"Twice. When you didn't answer, I figured you were somewhere else. Any luck?"
"No. She won't listen. She *must* be hearing me, though. I don't understand why --" He stopped. "She's crying, Mark. She's awfully upset about something."
"Yeah, well she's been through a helluva lot, if you think about it."
"I know. Funny thing, though -- she's ahead of us. I don't know how far, but she's definitely closer to the Patrol outpost than we are. How do you suppose she got there?"
"I dunno." Mark frowned. "It don't make much sense -- unless she's been picked up by the Patrol an' they're takin' her in via crawler."
The thought sent a chill through Alan. "I don't think she's with anyone else. She's not talking to anyone. Just crying."
"At least she's alive," Julia said, rather shortly. "Being soft isn't very smart in this business, even though I understand why you did what you did. But if the news gets around in the Patrol that we make threats and then don't carry through, they're going to stop taking us seriously. When Lyn's father betrayed us, we should have killed her." Julia paused for a moment. "You know what the Jils did to *my* father when he betrayed them, and nobody takes the Jils' threats lightly. They always carry through if they can."
"But we don't know that he betrayed us," Alan said. "He may have been caught trying to steal the thing."
"Maybe," Julia said. "I'll believe it when it's proven."
"We might catch up with her anyway," Mark said. "If she's alone, she won't be able to move that fast. You say she's straight ahead between us and the base?"
"Almost. We'll have to turn a little south, but not much. And if she *is* with the Patrol and we can take her away from them, then she should be able to tell us what happened."
"Maybe," Julia said, "and maybe not."
They started on, keeping to a southeasterly direction. Lyn was also moving in the same direction, and Alan supposed she must be trying to reach the Patrol outpost as well. The trees grew thick and close, but occasionally they came upon clearings, and more often the little bubbling streams. As midday approached, clouds gathered overhead, and after a few hours it began to sprinkle. Alan glanced nervously up into the trees, feeling the prickle of apprehension once more. They were being watched again.
He tried scanning their surroundings without success. Whatever the watchers were, they were well-shielded. Drat! This was nerve-wracking!
"How's your feet?" Mark asked.
"Huh? Oh, I'm okay." The prickle ran over his scalp again, accompanied by a jolt of alarm. Danger was approaching.
Then he heard it: the hum of an aircar.
"Aircar!"
Obviously his friends hadn't yet heard it, but they reacted instantly, scrambling deep into the underbrush, concealing themselves from possible observance by those in the vehicle above. A familiar sensation jolted through Alan. His shields snapped shut, but in the instant before they closed, he sensed the Jilectan's start of recognition. The alien had sensed him as well.
Mark's hand closed on his arm. "What's the matter?"
"There's a Jil in that car," Alan said, keeping his voice low. "He sensed me. I didn't get my shields closed fast enough."
Mark swore softly. "They'll radio for reinforcements now. The whole place is gonna be crawlin' with 'trols in a few minutes. Run!"
They ran, trying to put as much distance between them and the aircar as possible. The Jilectan couldn't follow them with their shields up but he would know they were close by. Alan's bruised foot descended on a broken branch and he stumbled, sprawling ungracefully forward. Mark jerked him instantly to his feet, half-dragging him along.
The aircar passed a little to the south and there was a soft hissing sound. Mark swore breathlessly and Alan felt his legs buckle. Drowsiness settled over him, and suddenly he was on his knees, only half-aware of what had happened. Sleep gas. The Patrol must have sprayed the area where the Jilectan had sensed Alan.
He was drifting, struggling to remain conscious. He couldn't have caught a full dose of the gas or he would already be sound asleep. Where was Mark? Alan groped blindly through the thickening fog, searching for his partner. His hand touched skin, and he dragged himself on a few more centimeters before darkness enveloped him completely. He slumped forward.
**********
Alan opened his eyes. Cold rain spattered on his neck and he became slowly aware that he was lying face down on the forest floor. His hands were clutching something that felt like cloth. Slowly, he lifted his head and saw before him the soft, brown material of Mark's flight suit.
He blinked, trying to focus. Mark was there, all right, face down and snoring softly, the sounds muffled by the damp leaves in which his mouth and nose were buried. Two meters away, Julia was lifting her head, her golden hair straggling down her neck. Alan's heart jumped when he saw what lay beside her.
He scrambled clumsily to his feet, groping for his blaster. The figure beside Julia was that of a Viceregal patrolman. The body lay face up, not a meter from her, arms and legs splayed out like the letter X.
"Alan!" Julia squeaked.
He stumbled over to her and helped her rise. The patrolman didn't move, and Alan bent over him, noting the black half-stripe on his helmet. Corporal Klivan, the nameplate proclaimed. Alan removed the helmet, carefully avoiding the pool of sickness coating the man's chin, neck and chest. Dead eyes stared vacantly upward. Alan pulled the neck of the uniform away, already knowing what he would find.
He wasn't disappointed. The tiny scratch was very evident on the otherwise smooth, unmarked skin.
"Look!" Julia whispered.
Alan turned and his heart leaped again. Two more patrolmen lay still and quiet three meters from Mark's unconscious body. Still another was sprawled beyond them. The odor of sickness hung heavily in the still, damp air.
"Alan!" Julia sounded a little sick, herself.
Mark stirred, lifting his head, wet leaves clinging to his forehead, cheeks and chin. Alan helped Julia to sit down on a fallen log and went to kneel beside his partner. "Mark, are you all right?"
"Kid?" Mark's voice was slurred.
"I'm right here. Take it easy; we're all okay."
"Holy hell!" Mark's eyes focused on the bodies of the patrolmen. His hand fumbled for his blaster.
"They're all dead," Alan said. He helped Linley to sit up, peeling leaves and crusted muck from his face. "The natives must have done it while we were out." He checked his chronometer quickly. "Good grief!"
"What?"
"We were out for nearly two hours!"
Linley swallowed, staring at the bodies as though hypnotized. "We better move out."
"For sure. There must be others on the way. Are you all right, Julia?"
"Yes." She still sounded a little woozy, but rose to her feet. Mark also got up and went to bend over the nearest body.
"Their blasters are gone."
"Just like the others," Julia said. "I wonder what happened to the Jil you sensed."
"He probably stayed with the aircar," Alan said. "No Jil would risk his precious hide in these woods unless he had to."
"Yeah," Mark said. He grinned suddenly. "Glad I ain't a 'trol."
"Yes, they do seem to have a rather high mortality rate around here." Julia's voice sounded steadier now. "Let's get out of here."
Alan glanced longingly at one of the Patrol helmets. If only they dared to take one along, just to monitor the Patrol's communications!
Mark followed his gaze. "Forget it. It ain't worth the risk. We don't know what these natives use to tell 'trols from other people, but they sure have some way. The 'trols are all dead and we're alive, and that's the way I want it to stay."
"I know." Alan sighed regretfully and fell in beside his companion, his blaster in one hand. Julia walked on Mark's other side, also gripping a blaster.
In less than two minutes they came to the clearing. And stopped.
An aircar was parked in the center of the open space and three dead patrolmen were sprawled around it. The entire front of the vehicle had been burned away -- the result of a blaster set on emergency maximum. In the half-melted rear seat was the badly burned body of a Jilectan.
"Holy heck!" Alan whispered. "Whatever these natives are, they sure don't fool around!"
After a second's shock, Julia moved slowly toward the half-demolished aircar. "Gosh!" she whispered. "Everything's ruined. Well, we know now that the natives -- or somebody, anyway -- knows how to use a blaster."
"More'n that," Mark said. "The guy set it on max. That shows intelligence. He's managed to figure out the settin's an' use 'em appropriately."
"We've *got* to contact them!" Alan spoke fiercely. "The Jils will kill them if they figure out they were responsible for this. I wonder how much they already know about these people." He carefully lowered his shields and extended a telepathic scan.
Nothing. No presences nearby. Nothing but the faint flicker of Lyn's mind, now farther away.
"They knew we were in the area," Julia said. "They'll probably assume it was us, not the natives."
"They will if we set the stage." Mark lifted his blaster. "Anybody nearby?"
Alan shook his head.
"Good." Mark methodically fired a blaster bolt at each of the bodies. "That should do it, but just to make sure, take the energy cells out of their blasters and take all the extras they had on 'em." He bent over the nearest figure. "Turn off all the com units, too."
"They're already off," Alan said absently. "Looks like the natives have figured out how to do that, too."
Julia helped collect the energy cells, then stood up, smiling slightly at Mark. He winked at her.
"Looks like I'm good for somethin', eh, honey? He inquired innocently.
She made a face at him and stood up. "Are we ready?"
They went on through the drizzling rain. Alan lowered his shields sporadically, checking Lyn's direction. They were catching up again, and still heading straight for the Patrol base. He estimated they had covered perhaps fifty kilometers since yesterday.
When the light began to fade, they stopped next to a large, burned-out tree. The rain still pattered around them, and they were soaked and uncomfortable as they crowded inside the inadequate shelter. Alan ate his food concentrate cake, surprised that it tasted good. He must be pretty hungry. Come to think of it, the last thing he had eaten had been a slab of overdone fish, this morning.
"Well?" Mark asked. "Any 'trols or Jils around?"
Alan lowered his shields and extended his scan. Lyn's mind was nearer now, but he could sense no one else. Not surprising, really. To step into these woods meant death for a patrolman. How the dickens did the natives manage to kill them so efficiently and with such apparent ease? And why did they hate the Patrol and the Jils so fiercely, and yet show nothing but curiosity toward Alan and his party?
"Nothing," he said.
"What's Missie Parnell doin'?"
Alan checked again. "She's stopped, I think, and she's crying again. She's awfully tired."
"Wonder if she's been havin' any adventures of her own. Okay, you look worn out. Lie down. I'll take first watch."
Alan obeyed and felt Julia huddle close against him in the chilly darkness. He closed his eyes, listening to her quiet breathing and the whisper of the falling rain on the leaves. There was a spicy fragrance in the air that tugged at his memory, but he was too tired to explore it further. Alan turned on his side and fell deeply asleep.
**********
tbc
