The Crystal Demon: 3/?
by Nancy Smith and Linda Garrick
III
Linley's neck was crawling as they entered the high security area. This was the ticklish part of their mission. If anything went wrong now, it meant death for them both.
There were security guards everywhere. They went briskly along the corridor, glancing around casually, looking for anything that might give them a clue where to look for their objective. They rounded a corner and stopped short.
Coming down the hall toward them were two patrolmen, dragging between them a small man. The prisoner's hands were cuffed behind him but he was still struggling futilely in the grip of the two patrolmen. Mark and Danoole stepped quickly aside to let them past. Linley could hear the prisoner frantically gasping out words of protest and sheer panic.
"Please! I've told you everything I know! I'm not a psychic! Please!"
The guards ignored him. They paused before a door and one of them pressed the buzzer. After a moment it slid open and they propelled the prisoner through.
Mark and Danoole looked at each other.
"Looks like we hit the jackpot," Danoole said. Without a word, they took up positions on either side of the door, striving to look as if they belonged there.
"Kind of interestin'," Linley remarked softly. "The Patrol's managed to locate two psychics in two days on a world this sparsely populated."
"Maybe he's one of ours," Parkraft speculated.
"Maybe. Whether he is or not, we're never gonna get a better chance to grab the thing. Want to go for it?"
Parkraft waited as a lone patrolman went briskly by. "I guess we'd better," he said. "The longer we wait, the more likely the thing is to kill him -- or, if he's one of ours, to make him talk."
Mark took a deep breath. "Let's do it."
Parkraft waited as another patrolman passed, then reached behind his back and pressed the buzzer. Linley stepped forward to stand directly in front of the door and waited. His heart was thumping hard enough to nearly deafen him, but others wouldn't know that. His minimal shields were up as tightly as he could make them to keep from alerting any Jils that might be nearby that something was up. To his left, he could see that Parkraft's mouth below the visor looked tight and grim.
The door slid open. Mark entered with a businesslike step, his companion nearly crowding his heels. The door closed behind them.
Two patrolmen were standing stiffly on either side of an interrogation chair, and before the chair stood the tall, red-headed form of a Jilectan. The alien glanced irritably at them. "What is it?"
Mark leveled his blaster directly at the Jilectan. "Freeze, M'lord. Order your men to throw down their blasters now. Move."
Parkraft circled, his blaster also centered on the alien. "Do as he says, M'lord."
The Jilectan was looking at Mark, and Linley felt the first touch of mental pressure against his inadequate shielding. "Don't try to read my mind, M'lord. If you manage to, I'll have to kill you."
The pressure stopped abruptly. A thin eyebrow crawled up. "You have the advantage of me, Terran. Do as he says," he added to the patrolmen.
Both men moved slowly, pulling the blasters from their holsters. Suddenly, one of them jerked his weapon up, and Danoole's blaster cracked sharply. The man was thrown backward, but in the split second's distraction, the Jilectan moved, ducking sideways, and Linley felt the blaster in his hand wrench sharply, trying to squirm free. He fired, and the Jilectan shrieked thinly, tumbling to the floor.
The other patrolman was grabbing for his own weapon and Danoole fired. The man went down.
Mark stepped forward cautiously, but his aim, spoiled by the Jilectan's attempt to disarm him, had been more serious than he had intended. The alien was dead. He swore.
"There goes our hostage," Danoole said. "Get the prisoner. I'll get the whatsis."
The device they sought was unmistakable. It was nestled on an antigrav cart beside the interrogation chair. Wires ran from a rectangular frame and some kind of mechanism to a palely luminescent ball. Mark glanced at it and as quickly away, an odd sensation of pain coursing through his skull. Parkraft, apparently, felt nothing. He snatched up a thin, metallic cloth from the table and covered the thing. Gripping it with both hands, he tore it free from the jumble of wires. The frame, dislodged, clattered to the floor.
Linley unfastened the prisoner from the chair and pulled him upright.
"C'mon, buddy, we're gonna getcha outta here."
The man's legs folded. Mark propped him up with one arm and turned to Parkraft. "Ready?"
"Just about." Parkraft stuffed the globe into one of his belt pouches. The cloth came off as he did so, and he kicked it impatiently aside. "Let's go."
On impulse, Mark picked up the cloth, stuffing it into his own pocket, then turned to the prisoner and fastened restrainers on his wrists. "Take it easy, buddy. We ain't 'trols, an' we're gonna getcha outta here. Just walk along beside me an' we'll be okay."
The prisoner offered no resistance. His head sagged, although his eyes were wide open. Abruptly, his knees folded again. Mark cussed and heaved the fellow to his shoulder. "Let's move."
Parkraft went to the door and pressed the opening control. It slid open and they went through, striving to appear matter-of-fact in their actions. The soundproofing of the interrogation room had worked to their advantage this one time -- probably the only factor that was operating in their favor tonight, Linley reflected, grimly. The guards at the entrance to the security section looked at the prisoner with mild curiosity as they approached the barrier, bare minutes later.
"Where are you taking him?" one asked.
"Infirmary," Mark grunted.
The guard nodded and opened the barrier.
Linley's skin was crawling as they reached the lift. It was only a matter of time until the Jil was discovered, and the building would be sealed off. They had to get outside before that happened.
The lift doors opened and they boarded. The doors closed.
"You okay, Dan?" he inquired.
"Huh?" His companion's voice sounded a little vague. "Yeah, fine. Why?"
"Nothin'. Just that you're carryin' the thing. We know what it did to those other guys, and this one looks like he ain't much better off."
Parkraft shook his head. "I'm fine. Just scared stiff."
"Yeah. Me too."
The lift slid to a halt and they went out, headed for the exit. The man on Mark's shoulder had not stirred, his body limp and unresponsive, although his position must be very uncomfortable. They reached the entrance to the building, and the sentry glanced at them in surprise. "Where you taking this guy?" he asked.
"Infirmary," Mark said, promptly, presenting his red-flagged ID, one handed. "They're supposed to patch him up for the trip to Corala. M'lord's personal order." He glanced disparagingly at his burden. "I don't think they're gonna get much else out of him, personally."
The guard nodded. Mark went past him, glancing over his shoulder at Parkraft. The man's steps were lagging, and his mouth below the visor was slack. In sudden alarm, Mark caught his arm with his free hand.
"What'sa matter?" he demanded in a whisper.
"Huh?"
"What's wrong?"
"Huh? Nothing." Parkraft's voice sounded oddly detached. "I'm okay."
"Then shake a leg, willya?"
"Okay." He sounded uninterested. Something *was* wrong! Mark thought. That damned globe was doing something to Parkraft.
"Keep movin'!" He tugged his companion along as unobtrusively as he could.
"Yeah ... okay." Dan shook his head abruptly. "I feel sorta funny."
"Put up your shields! We have to get out of here fast!" The gate was only a hundred meters ahead. Still gripping the limp form of the prisoner, Mark steered his companion toward it. Behind them, an alarm went off.
At the sound, Parkraft's drooping head snapped up. He screamed something unintelligible and started to run toward the exit.
"Dan!" Linley made a futile grab for him. "Don't run for the luvamike ..."
Parkraft didn't appear to hear him. He dashed recklessly forward, his steps weaving, apparently forgetting Linley altogether. Linley stared after him in horror as patrolmen grabbed for him, while others stared in astonishment. Parkraft shouted for help, stumbled and went to his knees on the pavement. A crowd of patrolmen surrounded him.
Linley stopped, watching helplessly. What the devil should he do? Parkraft was caught, that was for sure, and the only possible course was to get away, himself, with the prisoner.
Mind made up, he strode toward the exit, one hand on the butt of his blaster. If anybody tried to stop him now, they were going to be in for a nasty surprise.
People were rushing across the compound, and over their voices he could still hear Parkraft's wild cries. The energy barrier was just ahead, and to Linley's surprise, he realized it was deactivated. Directly through the opening, he could see the sleek, black body of a luxurious aircar. The door was open, and a slim, silver-clad leg was just beginning to emerge. Mark lunged forward.
He went straight through the open gate and into the aircar, slamming the vehicle's occupant back with a force born of desperation. Her scream was drowned in the roar of the engine as Mark jammed the thrust regulator flat to the deck.
The aircar lifted like a bullet. Mark dropped the man he had rescued to the seat beside him and turned on the woman -- or girl, since she couldn't be more than seventeen,-- drawing his blaster in a single motion. And none too soon, either, for she was also moving, grabbing for something concealed in the small bag beside her. Linley jammed the blaster against her side. "Freeze, sister!"
She obeyed at once, staring at him in wide-eyed horror. Linley yanked the purse across the seat and kicked it into a corner. Then he turned his attention to the controls again. The car changed course and soared across the city as fast as he could manage.
"Who are you?"
He glanced sideways at her. She was younger than his first impression, he thought, probably no more than fourteen or fifteen. Her clothing was stylish and expensive, but looked too mature for her youthful face and figure. She had dark, waving, shoulder-length hair and brown eyes -- not even pretty, he thought, and much too young and silly to be driving around in this thing. A spoiled rich kid.
"Who are you?" she repeated. She sounded exactly as she appeared -- young, silly and stuck-up. "What do you think you're doing? I'm Commander Parnell's daughter, and I could have you executed for this!"
"Parnell's kid, huh?" Linley surveyed her coolly. "Then I suppose you got a tracker on you, huh? Where is it?"
She smiled mockingly at him. She appeared to have recovered her equilibrium with remarkable speed. "I don't know what you're talking about."
They were beyond the town now, and he brought them down behind a hedge of scrubby trees. "You know, all right, sister. Get it and get rid of it."
Another smile. "And if I won't?"
He rammed the blaster against her side, and she couldn't restrain a yelp. "Get it!"
Still, she balked, playing, no doubt for time. "Look, Patrolman, what makes you think ..."
He seized her wrist so suddenly that she gave a shrill gasp. "I'm not foolin', girlie. Tell me where it is now!"
"How *dare* you ...!"
He exerted pressure, careful not to apply enough force to actually injure her. "*Now*!"
"Yes ... all right!" she gasped.
He released a little of the pressure, but kept his grasp firm on her wrist. "Well?"
"It's under the door -- a small compartment."
He let go of her wrist. "Get it."
She shrugged. "All right, Patrolman. Don't get nervous." She reached down. There was a minute click and an instant later she handed him a tiny homing device. Mark glanced at it to assure himself it was the real thing, then tossed it to the floor and ground the heel of his boot into it. "Take the controls, honey."
She was staring at him in sudden consternation. "You're no patrolman!"
"You're right. Let's go."
She had gone suddenly white. "I know you! You're Mark Linley!"
He pushed the blaster against her side again. "Let's go!"
She obeyed, taking the controls and sending the car forward again. Mark lifted his wrist communicator. "Kid! Come in!"
His partner's voice responded immediately. "What's wrong?"
"Plenty! They got Dan, and I've probably got half the Patrol on Xenis lookin' for me. Be ready to take off when I get there."
"You okay?"
"Yeah."
"What about the ... thing?"
"Dan had it. We blew the whole thing, but I've got some possible bargainin' power -- if we move fast."
"By that, I suppose you mean me," the girl said, coldly.
Linley didn't answer, but her voice had carried to Alan. "You have someone with you?"
"Yeah. The Base Commander's daughter."
"Oh." There was a moment of silence. "What about Dan? Is he dead?"
"No."
Alan said something under his breath. "I'll be ready."
Linley cut transmission.
"'Kid'?" the girl said, scathingly.
Linley grinned faintly. "Just my way o' talkin', sweetheart. Speakin' o' kids, how old are you? Thirteen?"
She went pink. "I'm eighteen," she replied frostily. "Almost, anyway." She glanced at the man that Mark had rescued. "What's wrong with him?"
"Your friends have been questionin' him." Mark lifted the slumped figure upright, bracing him against the back of the seat. "Can you hear me, buddy?"
The man stared blankly at him a moment. He made a peculiar gurgling sound deep in his throat.
"Easy, bud. You're safe now. What's your name?"
Again came the gurgling sound. The girl stared in consternation. "What's *wrong* with him?"
"I just toldja. Turn a little to the west. We're almost there. Good. Now go straight."
"Interrogation doesn't do *that* to a man!"
"They're refinin' their techniques all the time," Linley told her nastily.
She compressed her lips. "I don't believe you."
"Then you're a fool," Linley said.
The ship came into view and he took the controls from her. They came to a sliding stop beside the small, four-man craft. The airlock slid open and Alan leaped gracefully to the ground beside it.
Linley opened the aircar door, pushed the girl through and climbed out. "Hang on, kiddo. I got someone else with me." He reached back inside and lifted the rescued man through. Alan stood still, holding Parnell's daughter by one arm and watching him.
"Who ...?"
"They were interrogatin' him with the thing when we got there. He was just sittin' there like a zombie, an' he ain't moved on his own since. We gotta get outta here fast."
Alan let go of the girl and took the man's other arm. "He's a psychic. Did you know?"
"I figured he might be." Linley bundled his burden through the hatch. Alan's head snapped around.
"Mark!" he yelled.
Linley let go of the man's arm and spun. His prisoner was scrambling back into the aircar. He dove after her just as she pressed the door control, and it nearly snapped shut on his leg. He caught her arm as she aimed frantic blows at his face. "Nice try."
There was a click and the door slid open again. Mark turned to see his partner reaching inside to assist him. He gave the girl a push. "Take her, willya?"
Alan gripped her wrist. "Come on, Miss. Behave, and nothing will happen to you. I promise."
**********
tbc
