Mind Link: 4/?
by Nancy Smith and Linda Garrick
8
"Mark?"
Mark Linley ignored the call and the rap of knuckles on the door. He stared dismally at the bottle on the table in front of him.
It was three quarters empty. He'd been working on it for nearly two hours, trying to drink himself out of his misery.
Linley had never felt so wretched in his life. Alan was dead. He was sure of it now. His best friend, his little partner, the best kid in the whole galaxy had been killed by some stinking, no-good filthy trenchcrawler.
The two psychic tracers had tracked Kevin and the unknown psychic to a small clearing in the woods but there the trail had ended. The aircar was there and on the front passenger seat they found more blood but nothing else. Alan, Kevin and Worley were gone and there was no way to trace them.
The aircar had proven to be registered to a Gladys Swanson, who lived in town. She was a sweet, kind-hearted lady, presently widowed but seeing a gentleman by the name of Herbert Mapp. Gladys had not yet missed the stolen aircar, she said, and was quite delighted that it had been returned to her so promptly. Gladys owned a large home at the end of town near Dr. Worley's office and made her living by renting out rooms. No, she never locked her aircar. Why should she? This was Muspelheim and she knew everyone. Yes, of course she left the keys in it. Didn't everyone?
Mark stared morosely at the bottle and tilted it up again, taking a long swallow.
The painkiller wasn't working. The sense of loss was almost too much to bear, even drunk as he was. Mark sank his head onto his arms again, mumbling Alan's name.
"Mark?" Again the rapping of knuckles on his door. "It's Lisa. Please open the door!"
"Go away."
"Please, Mark! We still don't *know*!"
Mark didn't answer. There was a long silence and then the soft sound of retreating footsteps. Mark took another swig from the bottle.
"Alan," he muttered. "I'm sorry, kid. I'm sorry as hell. I shoulda been there." He put his face into his arms and sobbed.
"Mark!" Lisa was pounding on the door again. "Open the door! Please!"
"Get lost."
The bolt moved of its own accord and slid back. Mark came to his feet as Lisa Wilkins and Jason Llwelling entered the room.
"Damn you, Jase!" Mark lurched unsteadily to his feet. "Get outta here. I don't wanna talk to nobody."
"Mark!" Lisa caught him by the forearm. "Come with us, quick. We have news."
Mark grabbed the back of a chair for support. "What?"
"Well, we're not sure if it means anything or not, but we're picking up some transmissions. You'd better come."
He reached for the bottle but Llwelling was quicker. He grabbed the bottle and backed away. "You don't need this. Major Waters is waiting."
"Gimmie that." Mark let go of the chair and advanced toward the corpsman, weaving slightly. Llwelling took another step backward, holding the bottle behind him. "You don't --"
Linley caught him by the collar, lifted him bodily from the ground and removed the bottle from his grasp, losing his precarious balance as he did so. He staggered sideways and half fell across his bunk. The contents of the bottle sloshed across his tunic and the neatly made bed. Mark cursed.
Llwelling got to his feet, wiping whiskey from his face. "Damn!"
"Don't," Lisa said. "It's okay. I know how he feels. When Carl died --" She broke off. "Let him bring the bottle if he wants. Waters knows what he's going through." She put her arm around Linley. "Come on, Mark."
Mark lurched to his feet, nearly overbalancing again. Llwelling caught his arm and positioned himself on the other side. "Easy, old man. Just lean on us." Together, he and Lisa half-supported Mark down the corridor toward the communications room.
Mark could barely control his feet. Everything around him seemed to shimmer slightly at the edges but the knot of grief remained undiminished. He stared at the bottle in his hand and cursed savagely under his breath and then, with a sudden motion, hurled the container away. It struck the wall and shattered, raining glass in every direction.
"Easy, Mark." Llwelling appeared not to notice the event. He and Lisa guided Linley through the door. "You'd better sit down."
A young woman at the communications board looked up as they entered and Major Waters came to his feet.
"Hello, Mark." The officer pushed a chair forward. "Sit down." He glanced at Lisa and then turned back to Linley, ignoring his condition as completely as if it did not exist. "We've got something. We're not sure if it has anything to do with what's happened or not, but --" He turned to the communications officer. "Play it back, Ruby."
Ruby touched a button and a speaker came to life. "Jotenheim Patrol Base to all Patrol craft in the vicinity. This is a flash emergency message. A vessel, of as yet unidentified nature, has crashed into one of the base's domes, depressurizing it. We've had a casualty. Lord Volanthvor, who was part of the Jilectan inspection delegation, here to evaluate the facilities, was killed when the dome depressurized. The vessel ejected an escape craft only minutes before the fatal crash. All Patrol ships be on the alert for --"
"Wait a minute." Ruby reached over, switching off the recording. "I'm picking up something else." She touched something on the panel.
"...rol Cruiser 'Sentinel'. Vessel is confirmed to have been a Terran Class 4 Planet Hopper, registered to one Edgar Sneet, presently residing in the city of Muspelheim on Midgard. Midgard Spaceport reports the craft stolen three days ago." A pause. "It is likely that this was a deliberate act of terrorism. Twelve patrolmen were killed along with Lord Volanthvor, including Base Commander Metzenbaum. Lord Corianthzor, who is the head of the delegation --" Again a pause, and the voice fell. "Man, he's fit to bust a seam, Mike. Catch that lifeboat. Okay?"
"We'll try," another voice replied, also in an undertone. "No sign of it yet."
"'Juggernaut' to 'Sentinel'!" A third voice broke into the broadcast. "We've got 'em on our scanners! We are in pursuit of a small escape craft, believed to be from the vessel that attacked the base. They do not respond to our hail."
Mark stared at the board. "Three days ago..." There was something he had to remember. The fuzziness in his head hampered him. "Got it. We were in Worley's office, an' Alan..." His lips didn't want to work right. "Alan sensed somebody watchin' us. When we got out he was...was gone." He frowned. "We gotta go find 'em. Kevin could be in that lifeboat, an' Worley too. They can tell -- tell us --" Mark forced his tongue to cooperate. "They can tell us who killed Alan." He started to stand up and the room swayed sideways.
"Take it easy, Mark." Llwelling pushed him back into his seat.
"Wait a minute," Ruby said. "I'm picking up something on the scanners." Her fingers flew over the board and a screen flickered to life above them. "It's the lifeboat!"
Waters leaned forward. "It's coming in like the devil's after it."
"It ish...is." Mark squinted at the screen.
"Two Patrol cruisers right on its tail," Ruby confirmed. "I'm picking up transmissions." She snapped a switch and an official voice roared from the receiver. "'Juggernaut' to lifeboat! Surrender or be destroyed!"
There was no response, nor did the smaller craft slacken its speed. It came tearing into the atmosphere of the planet like a bullet, flashed across the screen and vanished.
"Crashed," Llwelling said. "He couldn't have pulled out in time at that speed."
Ruby was checking readouts. "They went through a bad thunderstorm. That's why we lost it. It must have gone down somewhere in the Utgard Mountain Range."
"I'm goin' after it." Mark started to stand up.
Waters and Llwelling grabbed him at once. "Oh no you don't," Waters said. "You're in no shape to go anywhere. Ruby, get a couple of search teams up there, on the double."
Mark started to stand up again and the room lurched to the side. He caught at Waters for support. The CO grabbed his arm. "You better lie down, Mark. As soon as you've sobered up, I'll let you go but I can't risk sending you out unless you're in good shape." He grunted a little as Linley's weight descended on him again. "Help me, Jase."
Mark took another step. The shimmering in the room was expanding and he fought to focus on his surroundings. He heard and exclamation from Waters and another set of powerful arms grabbed him. Mark considered trying to help them but it was much easier to simply put his head down and go to sleep.
9
"Cruiser on the scanner," Alan said.
Kevin craned his neck to peer over his shoulder at the instruments. "Yeah, I see it. The planet hopper musta caused some comment when it hit."
The com crackled. "Patrol cruiser 'Juggernaut' to lifeboat. Come in."
Alan glanced at Bronson, who shrugged. "Don't answer. Maybe they don't know who we are yet."
"I wasn't exactly planning on giving them our life story." Alan examined the instrument panel again. "We're not going to be able to outrun that thing for long. How much farther to Midgard?"
Bronson wiggled an arm past him and tapped the miniature computer. "Fifteen minutes."
"Going to be close."
"Yeah."
The com was chattering again, informing them that the "Sentinel" was also in the area. Then an official voice crackled from the unit: "'Juggernaut' to lifeboat! Surrender or be destroyed!"
"He's gettin' closer," Kevin said. "Whupps! Hold on!" The ship spun sideways suddenly at a near miss from the cruiser. Bronson squeezed Alan's shoulder. "Well, kid, if we go out now, at least we gave it our best shot."
"Yeah." Alan smiled a little. "I just wish I could say a last word to Mark. He probably thinks I'm dead." He sighed. "He must be going through hell right now."
"I'd be thinkin' the same thing if I couldn't see you," Bronson said. "It's eerie havin' that link gone -- like I got an arm missin' or somethin'." He again peered over Alan shoulder. "Get the grav harnesses. We're gonna hafta bail out."
Alan shuddered but hit the red button on the bulkhead. Two grav-harnesses popped out and he handed one to Kevin. He would never admit it to anyone, but he hated bailing out. He'd completed one simulated jump during training at Terran Space Academy and three times for real since he had begun his career with the Terran Underground, and was forced to admit that it was an activity for which he would never develop any liking.
The cruiser fired on them again and something sputtered. A red light began to blink on the control panel.
"They got the com," Alan said. "Now we couldn't answer if we wanted to."
A thin whine began as they entered the atmosphere.
"Here comes the other one," Bronson said. "As if one wasn't enough. "Get ready."
Alan nodded jerkily, watching the scanners. "We're going to pass through a thunderstorm. It looks like our best chance."
Even as he spoke, clouds blurred the viewscreen. Alan grabbed the emergency kit from the cavity that had held the harnesses and stuffed it inside his shirt. A flash of light illuminated the screen and a report like the crack of a cannon rent the air. For an instant, rain pattered on the hull and they popped out beneath the layer of clouds. Beneath them, Alan saw the huge panorama of the Utgard Mountain Range.
"Now!" Kevin barked.
Alan hit the eject switch and the hatch opened. Alan closed his eyes, gritted his teeth and flung himself out the opening.
Icy air whistled past his ears and whipped his clothing. Then the harness activated and he found himself floating gently toward the snow-covered peaks below.
He glanced up. Kevin was above him, also floating gently downwards. There was a terrific "Bang" and Alan twisted his head around to see black smoke billowing from the sea of evergreens below and farther to the west.
They floated leisurely downward into an evergreen forest. Alan's grav harness tangled with a branch and he smothered an exclamation as evergreen needles slapped him hard across the face. A branch gouged him in the back.
"Ouch! Darn it!" He wiggled and twisted, trying to free himself. Something gave and suddenly he was falling again.
He landed with a bruising thump against the rough, prickly limb of a tree. Snow showered over him and a big chunk of the stuff landed on the back of his neck. He wiped his face with the back of one hand and brushed ice from his shirt collar.
"You okay, kid?" Kevin's voice came from somewhere above him.
"Sure!" he gasped. "Are you?"
Scuffling sounds and the crack of a branch. "Yeah, I think so but I dunno how this branch is holdin' me up. Climb on down."
"Okay!"
Alan started to descend. It was cold and the branches were rough and stickery. At least, he thought, he and Kevin were wearing long-sleeved, cold weather shirts because of the cold, wet weather prevalent in the early mornings in Muspelheim. He'd never have thought he'd be grateful for the miserable pre-dawn weather, but now he was. As cold as it was out here, it would be much worse in light clothing.
His foot slipped and he grabbed frantically for a branch, swinging by his hands for a moment. His foot struck something and there was a terrified screech. Something large and white went flapping away into the trees.
"What the hell was that?" Bronson's voice was still above him.
"A bird," Alan panted. He managed to hook his leg over the branch and shinnied down the trunk to the next limb. Snow showered on him from the branches above.
He realized suddenly that he was only a couple of meters from the ground. His breath steaming in the frigid air, he half fell the rest of the distance, landing knee-deep in the snow. He straightened up and glanced around. "Kevin?"
"Right here!"
"Are you down?"
"Almost, I think. Yeah. There's the ground." Branches crackled nearby and Alan floundered through the snow toward the sound. Kevin materialized out of a curtain of thick, heavily needled branches, brushing snow from his hair. He grinned. "Hi, kid."
"Hi." Alan grinned too, dusting chunks of snow from his shirt. "Now what do we do?"
"Head down, I guess." Bronson shivered. "Wish that blasted Zuccherman had let us take our capes along. This is gonna be a cold walk."
"Wait a minute." Alan reached inside his shirt for the emergency kit. "There should be some blankets in this."
There was one blanket. Alan stared at it dismally. "Oh, man!"
Kevin sighed. "Cut it in half. Still got your butcher knife?"
"No. I left it sticking in Zuccherman." Alan dug through the emergency kit and emerged with a small pocketknife. "I guess this'll do."
""What kind of emergency kit don't have blankets?" Bronson grumbled as Alan carefully slit the blanket in half.
"Well, the planet hopper probably belonged to some citizen of Midgard," Alan reasoned. "He probably never figured he'd need it."
"Damned careless civilians," Kevin muttered, accepting the piece of blanket that Alan held out to him. "What would he do if he'd crash landed somewhere an' didn't have what he needed?"
"Well," Alan said practically, "he won't need to worry about that now."
"No," Kevin agreed with a short chuckle. "I guess he won't."
They wrapped the pieces of blanket around themselves like shawls. Kevin knotted his across his chest and blew on his fingers. "I'll lead. You better let me have the blaster in case we run into any dinosaurs or unfriendly natives."
"I can shoot too, you know," Alan said, a little resentfully.
"You ever get awarded a Nova Cluster for marksmanship, kid?"
"Well, of course not, but I took second place at the last...Oh, all right." Alan handed him the weapon. Bronson tucked it into his belt.
"It ain't that I don't trust you," he said. "After that fight with Zucchie baby, my hat's off to you, but it's a fact that I'm a better shot, and there's bound t'be search parties scoutin' around for us."
"Yeah, I know," Alan said. "And if we're discovered, you'll have to hold them off while I run for it."
"Well," Bronson pointed out, "you're the psychic."
"Not any more," Alan said bitterly, as they started down a snow-covered slope. "My powers are gone. Now I'm just a Terran like the rest, only smaller than most and not as good a shot with a blaster as you."
"Your powers'll come back. Worley said so. 'Sides, psychic or not, I'd hate to have you for an enemy."
"I don't know," Alan said. "It seems to me that when we did get into a fight about a year and a half ago, you bested me without any problem."
Bronson glanced back at him, raising an eyebrow. "You had a handicap," he pointed out. "You knew who I was, an' you didn't wanna kill me, so you pulled your punches. If I'd been just another 'trol I wouldn'ta stood a chance. You disposed of both my men without much trouble, I seem t'remember." He grinned suddenly. "Don'tcha know your reputation with the Patrol? They're scared spitless of you...an' they got reason to be. Don't sell yourself short."
Alan couldn't help smiling. "Nice of you to say so, anyway."
"Hell, I mean it."
They fell silent, slogging along through the calf-deep snow. After a time, they reached a jagged slope, covered with rocks and snow. Carefully, they began to descend, skidding on icy patches and dislodging pebbles and larger stones, which rattled down the slope ahead of them.
"Doin' okay?" Bronson panted.
"Yeah, fine." Alan tried not to sound breathless. "How far above the snow line do you think we are?"
"A long way." Bronson paused, breathing hard. "Your face is good'n red."
"So's yours." Alan stopped to rest, his breath a cloud of mist in the still, cold air. "I'm pooped."
"No kiddin'. You had a busy day. How's the head?"
Alan touched it gingerly. "Sore."
"Looks like it. You got a big purple goose egg there. I should probably put a bandage on it."
"It's okay. It's not bleeding anymore." Alan took a deep breath. "Let's go."
"All right -- watch it!" Bronson grabbed him as a stone turned beneath his foot and he started to slide down the slope.
Alan regained his footing. "Thanks."
After an hour, they came to a sheer cliff. Below them was a deep, snow-shrouded canyon, thick with evergreen trees. An ice-crusted river wound through it, meandering leisurely between snowy banks to vanish amid the sea of evergreens. The scent of the trees, Earth pine with a hint of peppermint, was thick in the frigid air.
"Oh boy!" Alan sank down on a rock at the edge of the cliff. Kevin dropped beside him with a sigh. "There's gotta be an easier way down."
Alan nodded, not moving.
The purr of an aircar approaching brought them both to their feet. Of one accord, they ran into the evergreen trees to their right. The aircar hummed past, practically overhead, and they saw the distinct markings of a Patrol vehicle on its belly. It went on by, heading north, up the canyon.
When the sound of its engines had dwindled into the distance, Kevin jerked his head to the left. "I think I see a place to get down over there," he said. "Looks pretty steep, but I think we can manage it. C'mon."
They skirted the edge of the canyon, keeping a wary eye out for searching aircars. Twice more they hid as Patrol vehicles passed by, also headed north. At last they came to a cliff a little less steep than the others, which descended to the canyon below.
"All right," Kevin told him. "Take it slow. At least it don't look like we need them spikes and ropes and stuff." He put a foot over the edge and slowly began to descend. Alan followed, inching his way downward.
They made good progress, and perhaps an hour later had stopped to rest, approximately halfway down the rock escarpment, when they heard the sound of another aircar.
There was no place to hide now. They lay motionless against the rocks, waiting. Alan's scalp crawled as the purr grew louder and more distinct. The vehicle passed at a short distance from them, and proceeded north up the canyon.
As the sound faded, Kevin gave a sigh. "Man! That was close. Let's go."
They started down the steep slope once more. Alan felt naked and exposed on the rock wall: a fly on a plate. At last they came to a section of the cliff that jutted sharply outward from the side and paused to rest again.
"Whew!" Bronson wiped his forehead. "Thank the stars, the worst part's over."
"Yeah." Alan took another step.
Rocks crumbled beneath his foot. He began to slide and roll, unable to stop himself.
To one side of the slope, there was a sharp dropoff. Alan reached it and went over. Then he was plunging downward, rocks and pebbles rattling around him, hearing Kevin shouting his name from the cliff above.
**********
tbc
