Child's Play: 8/?
by Linda Garrick
Revised and Edited by Nancy Smith
Chapter 8
Mark Linley, clad impressively as a Viceregal patrolman, waited, fidgeting, as his partner donned the maintenance worker's coverall. It had taken an agonizing amount of time to prepare the forged I.D.s with all the correct coding and micro-coding to get him past the Jilectan's safeguards. Mark, a non-functioning psychic, lacked the critical levels of an enzyme that was found naturally in the bodies of most of the Terran population. Mark carried, at all times, a supply of the enzyme in a self-refrigerated unit, with which he could inject himself in the case of an emergency, and in effect, "turn on" his psychic powers. If this didn't qualify as an emergency, he didn't know what did. Now he had become as his psychic inheritance had intended him to be: a powerful, shielded, functioning psychic who did not have the handicap shared by all naturally functioning psychics -- the handicap of small size. He was plenty big enough to pass as a patrolman, and usually made a convincing one. As a psychic patrolman, he should, he told himself, be able to effect a rescue. The one hitch, of course, was that the "Titan" was on full alert for a possible rescue attempt, and it was possible that when he tried to board, he would be examined closely and his expertly altered features detected.
"Ready," Alan announced. He had also been disguised with an altered face shape, blue eyes and straight black hair, and looked every inch a maintenance tech. Still, the same thing applied to him. This was going to be one of the riskiest missions that they had ever undertaken, but there was no choice. They had to free Julia before she was taken off world.
"Let's go." Linley peered out the window. "It's good and dark."
The door swished open, revealing Wilma Eldridge, her eyes wide and hair disordered. She held the infant under one arm, and the kid was howling.
"General Linley! General Westover!" She had to raise her voice to be heard. "Where are the children?"
Mark stared at her. "I thought they were with you!"
"I put them in the playroom with some brownies and milk and told them to stay there, but they're gone!"
"They must be around somewhere," Alan said. "They wouldn't just leave."
"I can't find them! I've looked everywhere -- the bedrooms, the kitchen, the back yard -- but they aren't here!"
Mark swore savagely and strode past her, hearing Alan's footsteps behind him. They went into the playroom and Alan went over to a low table, regarding the scattered crumbs and playthings. Scotty's clothes lay in a filthy heap in the corner.
"I gave him something to wear," Wilma said in a shaking voice. "Those things he had on were hardly decent."
"Where the hell are they?" Mark concentrated for a moment, scanning. Nothing. No trace of any of the kids. Alan touched his black-clad sleeve.
"Careful. The Jil might still be looking."
"I know. I'm not sensing him, though. Dammit; where the blazes are they?"
"They're probably keeping their shields up. We told them to, remember?"
"Sure, but --"
"Wait!" Alan said sharply. "I'm picking up Marky!"
Mark concentrated. Yes, now he caught it, too. "There's Jen -- but where the devil is she? Quite a ways off, by the feel of it."
Alan nodded. "She's partly shielded, just like Marky -- but they're not scared. Where have they been, for Pete's sake?"
"I dunno." Mark ground his teeth. "I'm gonna tan her hide when she gets here. There she is again -- closer, too. She sure isn't scared. Sorta the opposite. She's feeling cocky. When I get my hands on her --"
"Now Mark, remember, she's only six."
"She's her mother's daughter! I'm gonna blister her if I find out she did this as a joke or something! I'm gonna --"
"She doesn't know about Julia, remember."
"Yeah, but all the same ..." The flicker came again, much closer. "Man, she's coming fast! She's got to be in an aircar to be moving at that speed. Maybe we --"
A distinctive knock sounded on the door.
"That's her. Man, she better have a good explanation for this!"
"I hope Jill and Scotty are with her," Alan said.
The door flew open, revealing a white-faced Wilma Eldridge. "Mark! Alan! Come quick!"
They looked at each other and then ran after Wilma, through the sitting room and into the living area.
And stopped short. Mark's heart jumped into his throat and he heard Alan gasp. Automatically, his shields snapped shut. He swore, and bit the word off in mid syllable.
In the center of the Underground station's living room lay the huge, magnificently robed form of Lord Linthvar. He was blindfolded and his wrists were fastened behind him with what could only be a Patrol belt. The legs of his fine clothing both showed evidence of blaster burns and his face beneath the cloth was white, the lips drawn back in a snarl. Around him, smiling proudly, and their faces flushed with excitement, stood the four children.
"Hi, Daddy!" Jennifer's face was one big grin. "We got him! Now you can trade him for Scotty's mommy and daddy!"
Mark felt his jaw drop. Alan seemed to come to his senses quickly, glancing at Linley over his shoulder. "His shields are up tight, Mark."
"Oh yes," Jennifer informed them. "I told him that if he even started to lower them I'd shoot him again. He hasn't. I've been watching him every minute!"
"Tell us how you caught him, honey," Alan said. "Can you do that quickly?"
Mark lowered his shields cautiously and satisfied himself that Alan's analysis was correct. The Jilectan's shields were painfully tight. Judging by the scorches on the fine silk of his breeches, Mark knew why.
"Sure!" Jennifer said brightly. "We took the transport over to the spaceport. It wouldn't take us all the way there, so we hiked on in. Scotty was awful worried about his mommy and daddy, so we figured we just had to help him out. He had a -- well, something that belonged to his daddy, so Marky used it to trace Mr. Pinks." She smiled. "We took a blaster away from a 'trol and left him tied up under a counter."
Mark opened his mouth, but only a faint, strangled sound emerged. Alan gave him a telekinetic poke in the ribs. "Go on."
Jennifer glanced at her father, looking a little worried for the first time. "Then Marky sensed the Jil in the ship. He let Linthvar sense him and got him to chase us." She glanced scornfully at the prone figure. "He thought it was you, Uncle Alan -- and that's what we wanted him to think! He came, and brought a bunch of 'trols with him, but it didn't do him any good. Marky and Scotty hid in an empty hangar, and Jill and I waited outside. Marky sent out another psychic touch, and Lord Linthvar sent in his 'trols to catch Uncle Alan --" She giggled. "Figured he'd have a big surprise to take back to the ship, so he didn't even let his 'trols report in! Then Jill and me captured M'Lord. Jill poked his Adam's apple and I grabbed his blaster!"
Linley heard the noise issue from his throat again. Jennifer's eyes flicked toward him again. "Daddy, we *had* to help Scotty! It was *his* mommy and daddy!"
"Then what did you do?" Alan somehow was managing to keep his voice level.
"We made the 'trols throw out their blasters and then we took their helmets. Jill went and got the guy we'd stunned before and Marky snuck back into the parking tier and took a car that had been left behind. Scotty and I cuffed the 'trols. Then we got in the car, loaded Linthvar in and came back."
"How did Linthvar pick up those burns?" Alan asked.
"Oh, the first time was because he wouldn't shut up," Jennifer said casually. "And the second time was 'cause a dumb 'trol named Murphy made a grab for Scotty when Scotty was taking his helmet."
"Murphy, huh," Alan said, with a sidelong glance at Mark.
She nodded. "M'Lord said he was going to kill Murphy for it. He'd ordered his 'trols not to try anything, but Murphy didn't listen. I shot him, too."
Mark shook his head, trying unsuccessfully not to grin. "Well, well, my old pal Murphy, always turning up like a bad half-credit. Go on."
"Well, we just locked the hangar and came back. I kept shooting Linthvar with my stunner to mess up his sense of direction so he wouldn't be able to tell where we were going. That's all."
"Speaking of which," Alan said. He drew his blaster and casually fired a stunbeam at Linthvar. The Jilectan snarled inarticulately.
Marky was nodding soberly. "It'll be a while before anyone finds those 'trols. Nobody knew where they were, and nobody saw us leave."
Mark was getting his breath back. He looked down at Linthvar and then over at Alan. Alan met his glance, a half-grin on his features.
"Are you mad, Daddy?" Jill asked timidly.
"We'll talk about it later." He glanced at Linthvar again. "You sure he didn't use clairvoyance to figure out where you were bringing him?"
"We told him not to, or he'd be killed," Jennifer replied. "He believed us, too. Marky and I were scanning him all the way here. He's had his shields up the whole time."
Alan knelt beside the Jilectan. "I guess we should take care of those burns. Lie still, M'Lord."
"*Can* we use him to get Scotty's mommy and daddy free, Uncle Mark?" Marky looked earnestly into Linley's face. "They *will* exchange him for them, won't they?"
"Yeah, probably." Mark glanced at his partner, who had accepted the first aid kit from Wilma. "I guess they might as well know."
"Know what?" Marky took a step forward, his green eyes widening. "The 'trols all thought Aunt Julia's been caught, too, and Linthvar said she had, but it isn't true, is it?"
Linley hesitated again, and then dropped a hand on each of his daughters' shoulders. "I'm afraid it is."
Three horror-stricken pairs of eyes stared up at him.
"She was back home!" Jill whispered. "How did she get *here*?"
"You know your mom -- bull-headedest woman I ever met. All I can figure is that she decided to show us all good since Matt told her she couldn't go."
"It was because of *us*!" Jennifer started to cry. "She was worried about me and Jill, so she --"
"And that's enough o'that, sweetie. It ain't your fault. You mom's a grown woman, and she knew the risk. We're going to get her out, and Scotty's parents, too." He looked thoughtfully at the Jilectan. "I think this could turn out pretty good. Now that we've got Linthvar, it'll be a lot easier."
"But they won't turn Mommy over for Linthvar!" Jill sobbed. "She's the Giant Killer! They just *won't*!"
"Take it easy," Mark said. "I got another feather in my cap, as the old saying goes. They won't trade her for him, but the will turn her over *to* him. From what you kids have told us, nobody back at the *Titan* knows M'Lord's been taken prisoner."
Marky shook his head. "But if they go looking for him, they're going to find his 'trols, and they'll tell."
"How long has it been since you left 'em?"
Marky considered and then glanced at the Captain Aldebaran chronometer on his wrist. "Maybe twenty minutes."
Alan's mind was working right along with Mark's -- psychic partners whose thoughts operated as one when necessary. Mark knew what his partner was going to say before he spoke.
"Well have to move, then. I'll head for the port and make darn sure they aren't found before we're ready."
Major Eldridge and his wife were staring at them. "What are you going to do?" Wilma asked.
"Mark will explain it," Alan said. "I have to move before anybody finds the 'trols."
Linley started to protest and then shut up. "Okay. Be careful. I'll have everything ready by the time you get back. And no heroics."
"Naturally," Alan said tranquilly. "I'd suggest you make sure of M'Lord in the meantime."
"Chances are good they'll be sending another Jil to cover Linthvar," Mark said. "If *I* was Halthzor, I sure wouldn't trust him to handle something this important alone. Chances are he just happened to be the closest tracer when the word came out about us being here."
Jennifer spoke up. "They told him to take an assistant, but he didn't do it. When Halthzor finds out, they'll send somebody else. At least that was what Linthvar was thinking when we caught him."
"Good work, honey," Mark said.
Alan spoke up. "I'll need dark clothing, Major, and soft-soled shoes."
"Right away, sir." Wilma vanished, to return a few moments later. "These are mine. They should just about fit you. I hope you don't mind wearing women's clothes."
"Remind me to tell you about the 'Patton' some time," Alan said dryly. He took the articles. "Get busy, Mark."
"I am," Linley said. "Major, help me get his Lordship into the room where you keep your computer stuff. We're gonna need to do some real careful scans on him ..."
**********
Chapter 9
In the bedroom, Alan pulled on the clothing provided to him by Wilma Eldridge. They fit fairly well, for Wilma was a woman of average size. The pants melded to his shape, fitting snugly over his hips and were only a trifle long in the legs. He turned them up and pulled on the shoes. They fit without discomfort. He and Wilma must wear exactly the same shoe size.
She was waiting for him at the door, a set of keys in her hand. "Here you are, General Westover. Are you sure you don't want anyone with you?"
"I can move faster and more quietly alone," Alan told her. "Thanks. Have Mark ready by the time I get back."
"We will," she said. "The mask's already on its way. The clothes'll take the longest but we should be ready long before you're back."
"Good. And keep an eye on those kids. I don't want 'em to get any more bright ideas. I guess they showed us that their training was pretty effective, but the next time it might not turn out so well."
She gave him a strained smile. "Crazy children. I trust you'll have a long talk with them later -- after this is all over."
"You can bet on it." Alan turned toward the door. "Back soon."
Mark appeared from the back room, wearing Linthvar's chrome yellow body suit. It was skin tight on him, but the torso, legs and arms were too long. "Gonna take a few alterations, and elevator boots to make me look convincing," he remarked.
"The robes will cover a multitude of sins," Alan said. "How are you at walking in spike heels these days?"
"I've been practicing," Mark said, modestly. "Never know when you're going to have to impersonate a Jil, you know. Linthvar's spitting sparks and promising all sorts o' painful ends."
"Nothing new? More original?"
"Give him time. Y'know, I ain't seen him naked in quite a while. He's getting a paunch." His grin faded. "Get goin' -- go*ing*." He corrected. "But be careful."
"On my way. And I'd give His Lordship something to sleep on if it were me."
"That's in the works, too," Mark said. "Be careful."
"I will. Don't worry."
"What, me worry?"
**********
The flight to the spaceport took less than twenty minutes. Alan set the car down outside the spaceport area, scanning cautiously with his clairvoyant power. He didn't know if Linthvar had been missed yet but from the transmissions he was picking up on his wrist unit, tuned to the same frequency as that on the Patrol helmets the kids had brought back, he thought not. There had been a few cautious attempts to raise His Lordship and one or two calling Lieutenant O'Hara and Sergeant Curtis, but when no one had responded, the hails did not persist.
He crossed the parking tier on cat feet, keeping to densely shadowed areas, all of his psychic nerve ends alert and scanning. Everything was very quiet. A patrolman passed, walking casually, and Alan reached out mentally to do a quick scan on the fellow.
Boredom. Dull anger at the helmet that was giving him a headache again, aching feet and annoyance with his girlfriend back on Shallock, who had stood him up the day before the ship was to depart for another, higher-ranking patrolman. Alan waited until he had passed and then went silently down the stairs and across the slidewalk to the main terminal.
He had already determined the location of the prisoners. The terminal was nearly deserted, except for the presence of guards and a cluster of presences somewhere to his left. He crossed the dimly lighted main room and found the corridor that led to the prisoners. Linthvar had also passed this way recently. The lingering aura of Jilectan was clear to his senses.
His wrist communicator spoke, making him jump. "M'Lord Linthvar, this is Strike Commander Martin. Please respond, sir!"
Alan stiffened slightly. There was a tone of urgency in the Strike Commander's voice that worried him, but he dared not reply, even as a patrolman, for he knew his Terran accent would instantly give him away.
"M'Lord, please --" The urgency increased. "I wouldn't bother you if it wasn't important. The prisoner, Miss Austell, appears to be goin' into labor!"
Alan's heart climbed into his mouth.
"Please, sir, Dr. M'Boto says he believes labor's startin'. He's worried somethin' might go wrong." His voice paused for a moment and then resumed. "M'Lord, *please* respond!"
Alan swallowed and tried to will his pounding heart back to normal. Labor! Julia was three months from term and was carrying twins! If those babies were born now, aboard a Patrol ship, with only a Patrol doctor to deliver them and care for them --
They *had* to get her out of there before labor progressed too far. The Patrol doctor knew nothing of pregnancy, childbirth or the care of premature newborns! How could he? There were no women in the Patrol and the Jilectans didn't bother to train their doctors in any specialties they would not need --
He took a deep breath. Haste could be fatal at this point, but if they failed to rescue Julia quickly, her babies would almost certainly die, and possibly Julia as well.
He ran down the corridor, still scanning, and found the door behind which he sensed the presence of the prisoners. It was locked securely, but their minds reached him easily through the panel. A thumping sound, and shouts for help, could be heard faintly. Yes, the kids had been right. If a search were instigated, someone would certainly find them.
He rested a hand on the lock and an image of the mechanism formed instantly in his mind. The lock clicked and the panel slid aside.
Men twisted about toward him from sitting positions on the floor. Several of the prisoners had made it to their feet and one of them had been kicking the door. As it opened unexpectedly, the door-kicker almost fell through. He started eagerly forward and then froze at the sight of Alan.
Alan let him see the muzzle of his blaster. "Back," he said.
The man retreated, accompanied by his fellow prisoners. Alan stepped in after them and looked them over. There were seven in all, four lying or sitting on the floor, three standing. Alan located the lieutenant. "You. O'Hara."
The man swallowed convulsively and took a step forward. "Yeah?"
"Where's she being held?"
"In the brig," O'Hara replied, not bothering to ask who he meant, and obviously realizing the futility of trying to deceive him. Alan saw her image in the man's mind. She looked drawn and haggard, and definitely appeared to be carrying a term pregnancy -- but then, with six-month twins, she would, he thought.
"Is she all right? Has he interrogated her?"
"No." the man cleared his throat. "Well, yes, but not with neurostimulators. It wasn't necessary. He just probed her for about ten minutes."
That was odd, Alan thought. A mind probe would do no good, unless, of course, Julia had managed to selectively shield. That might be it, of course. Leroy Burke had mentioned to him that Julia's control was among the best he had ever encountered: on a par with that of Sven Thoroski, the Strike Commander of the "Leviathan". No one could read her mind without her consent, not even Alan himself, with both his power packs to draw from.
"Why didn't he use the neurostimulators?"
"I don't know." The man harrumphed. "Maybe 'cause of the pregnancy. And she looked sorta sick. Maybe he was afraid he'd kill her."
"What about the other two people you caught?"
Puzzlement. "Two others?"
"A man and a woman. You picked them up in the forest."
"We didn't pick up two other people, Mr. Westover. Just one -- a man."
That was true. Alan saw the fellow in the patrolman's mind -- a skinny little man with red hair. Scotty's father was a prisoner, then, but what had happened to his mother?
"There was no woman with him?"
"Yes. Miss Austell was with him -- well, not with him, but in the same general area. I don't know anything about any other woman."
So, Scotty's mother must not have been caught after all. Well, that made it a little easier. Alan nodded and gestured the man back. "Sit down or fall down. All of you."
The men sat. Alan stepped out the door again, tossed a sleeping capsule into the room and shut the panel. One by one, the men's minds became recumbent. He locked the panel with telekinesis and headed back down the corridor to the outer world. The spaceport ventilators would clear the gas fairly quickly, but the patrolmen would remain out of the equation for at least another hour. By then, Julia would be free or they would all be in custody.
**********
