The Crystal Demon: 7/?
by Nancy Smith and Linda Garrick
VII
Alan opened his eyes. He was lying on a pile of leaves, wrapped tightly in Mark's flight jacket. There were leafy branches over him and through the greenery he could see patches of blue sky. A face appeared, silhouetted against the background, looking down at him. Bemused, Alan stared back. It was a small face, smooth and youthful, with dark eyes, dark hair and a troubled expression. Large, shell-like, protruding ears ...
With a gasp, memory returned. Alan blinked and moved. There was a blur of motion and it was Mark Linley who was leaning over him.
"Alan? C'mon, kid, wake up."
Alan pushed himself up on one elbow and grasped his arm. "Where did he go? Who was that?"
"Huh? Who?" Mark glanced around. "Lie back down. There's nobody here but Jul an' me."
"No!" Alan looked frantically around. "I saw a face!"
Mark shook his head. "You musta been dreamin'. There's nobody here but us." He frowned as Alan continued to look around. "Take it easy. You were knocked around a lot. Lie still a while."
Julia appeared beside him. Her hair was disheveled and one sleeve of her uniform was torn. "How do you feel, Alan?" she asked anxiously.
"All right," he replied, slowly. "My hands hurt." He lifted them and realized that they were bandaged. "How bad is it?"
"You were damned lucky," Mark said. "I thoughtcha were dead when that fighter fired, an' I still can't figure out why you weren't burned to a cinder. It's mostly just blisters and scorches." He rubbed his own arm reflectively. "You were linked with me durin' the whole business, y'know."
"Sorry about that. I guess I was lucky, all right."
"Yeah," Mark said. "Butcha didn't have any right t'be. What a damn-fool stunt, goin' back to help that brainless girl!" He grinned suddenly. "Man, I'm glad you're okay!"
Alan returned the grin. "Me too." He started to push himself up. Mark slipped a hand under his arm.
"I guess you're feelin' better," he remarked.
"Yeah." Alan rubbed his face with his bandaged hands. Now that his mind was clearing, he could hear water gurgling nearby. His flight jacket lay on the ground beside him, a bunch of scorched tatters. Sunlight filtered through the leaves and the air was cool and fresh. Julia was watching him, smiling a little.
"Pretty planet," she said.
He nodded, feeling a little tug of nostalgia. "When I was a kid, my parents used to take us camping in a place like this."
Mark handed him a canteen. "Have a drink."
Alan obeyed and handed the container back. He glanced around again. Oddly, the memory of that face lingered -- a small, round head, large, wide-set eyes. But it must have been a dream. Mark had been right beside him the whole time.
"What happened to Lyn?" he asked.
Mark raised an eyebrow. "I didn't really notice, actually."
"She headed for the trees, too," Julia said. "I saw her stop and look back just before the interceptor nearly toasted you."
"Oh," Alan said. "What about the 'trols?"
"We lost 'em," Mark said. "Sorta strange, really, but I don't think they followed us into the forest." He scowled darkly. "They musta been from the post here on the planet. I heard 'em talkin' on the com when I got here. Their lieutenant sent the only two ships he had when he got the call."
"Call?" Alan said sharply.
"Yeah." Mark's expression was grim. "Hyperspace call, givin' our coordinates an' tellin' 'em to get the hell over here and pick us up."
"Oh," Alan said. "What about those other two ships -- the one that blasted us, and the other one that got here just before we went into the forest?"
"I ain't sure. One of 'em coulda been the one that took off with ours after it, but the other one musta come from another base or somethin'. It wasn't an interceptor, but I ain't sure exactly what it was. Patrol markin's is all I saw." Linley hesitated and his hand closed on Alan's shoulder. "We were betrayed. Parnell musta blown the whistle on us."
"Either that, or they caught him and interrogated him," Julia said. "Either way, it makes no difference. We're stranded, and they still have the globe."
Alan dusted ashes from his flight suit. "What happened to your ship, Mark? Did they blow it up?"
"I doubt it. They'll take it back to their outpost an' see if they can get any information from it." He gave Alan a hand to his feet. "They'll have search parties all over lookin' for us soon. I think we should make ourselves scarce."
"Me too." Alan glanced around again. "How long have we been here, anyway?"
"About an hour," Mark said. "An' we're maybe four or five kilometers from the clearin'." He raised an eyebrow at his partner. "How come you're here, anyway? Don't tell me Kaley gave you permission."
Alan looked directly back at him. "I gave myself permission."
"Oh," Mark said. "I guess you had a premonition about me."
"Yes," Alan said.
"An' took off without tellin' the boss. I could tell that business about lockin' you up didn't set too well with you. He's gonna be scared spitless."
"I hope so," Alan said.
"Well, things ain't quite so grim, then. He's bound to send a tracer after us. Eric, most likely. He was aboard the cruiser."
"Should we wait around for him, though?" Julia asked.
Mark shook his head. "Better not. There's gonna be 'trols crawlin' all over the place, lookin' for us. We better head in the general direction o' the outpost. It's two or three hundred kilometers to the east of here, I think. Then, if help don't show up after a reasonable length o' time, maybe we can swipe a ship or somethin'."
"They're going to probably send a Jil tracer to try to track us," Alan pointed out. "Might be a couple here already, in fact."
"I thought o' that," Mark said. "Wonder what happened to little Missie Parnell. If they find anybody, it'll probably be her. I think her situation finally hit home, back there durin' the fight with the Patrol. She cowered behind me like I was her last hope."
Alan shrugged uncomfortably. In spite of the attitudes she held, he couldn't make himself dislike Lyn Parnell.
Mark picked up the very small pack that lay at his feet. "You ready to move?"
Alan nodded.
"'Kay then, let's mush."
They had been walking for several minutes when Alan spoke. "Mark?"
"Yeah?"
"I'm sorry I got you into this mess. I really thought Parnell was telling the truth."
Linley shrugged. "Maybe he was. Lotsa things coulda happened."
"I guess."
They were silent, picking their way carefully through the tangled vegetation that grew tall and thick beside the bank of the rushing stream. Alan's boots had been burned during his dash through the fire and hung on his feet in scorched tatters. His body hurt, and he had difficulty keeping up with his companions. Mark forged ahead, apparently tireless, Julia close behind him.
Perhaps ten minutes had passed when a sensation of vague uneasiness began to tickle at the edge of his consciousness. He stopped. "Mark!"
"Yeah?"
"I'm getting a warning!"
"Damn!" Linley drew his blaster, glancing around. "'Trols?"
"I don't think so." Alan concentrated, his telepathic senses straining. For a moment, he seemed to touch something, but the sensation was gone in a wink. "I guess it's more of a feeling of being watched."
Mark cussed softly. "There ain't supposed to be any natives here."
The feeling was diminishing and Alan relaxed slightly. "It's going away."
Mark did not return the blaster to its holster. "Let me know if it comes back."
"I will."
They moved forward once more.
Almost at once, the sensation returned. Alan's neck began to prickle and cold fingers traced their way down his spine. Julia looked sharply at him and Alan met her gaze, nodding slightly. "It's back."
"Alan!" Mark snapped.
At his partner's shout, the sensation of uneasiness crystallized in a surge of alarm. Adrenaline jolted through Alan's bloodstream and he leaped forward. His ragged boot caught in the grass and vines underfoot and, with a muffled cry of warning, he careened into Mark. Unprepared for a rear attack, Linley gave a startled yell and staggered sideways. He caught his foot on a fallen branch and fell with a crash and a bellow into the thorny underbrush that lined the stream, carrying Alan with him. With a frightened trumpet, something large and shaggy burst from the brambles and went charging noisily away through the trees, uttering loud brays of terror. Alan stumbled forward half a dozen more steps and pitched headlong over the embankment.
The water was shockingly cold. He came up sputtering and scrambled clumsily to his feet, slipping on moss-covered rocks. Mark was cursing as he struggled to disentangle himself from the mass of briars that clung affectionately to his clothing. Julia, a blaster in one hand, the other pressed over her mouth, was doubled up with suppressed laughter.
"Are you okay, Alan?" she managed.
Alan, waist high in the stream, spat out water and several strands of plant matter. "I think so," he spluttered. He floundered over to the embankment. "How's Mark?"
Linley at last succeeded in extricating himself from the worst of the thorns. Swearing unintelligibly, he jerked his shirt free, leaving shreds of both cloth and skin behind. He glared balefully at the dripping cause of the disaster.
"What th'hell were you doin'?" he exploded.
"Sorry," Alan mumbled. There seemed to be nothing else to say.
Julia was regaining her breath. "Are you okay, Mark?" she gasped.
"Yeah." Linley removed a wicked-looking thorn from his posterior and extended a hand to Alan. "C'mon out, my clumsy li'l friend." He lifted Alan easily up the embankment. "You sure you're okay? Why the devil'd you rush me for like that?"
"I caught my boot in the grass." Alan looked down at his battered, drenched foot covering. "I'm sorry. Why did you call me, anyway?"
Linley's expression changed. "Look through there." He pointed.
Alan parted a barrier of tall, tufted grass and stared in shock at the scene before him. Two patrolmen lay face down on the forest floor, and another was draped across a fallen log. All were quiet and very still, while the odor of sickness hung heavily in the air about them. Alan swallowed hard.
"They're dead."
Mark's hand clamped down on his arm as he started forward. "Careful. They might just be stunned."
Alan shook his head. "They're dead."
Linley stepped through the fringed growth after him and together they knelt beside the nearest figure. Mark turned the man over and removed the silvery helmet. "Dead all right, but I don't see any wounds." He checked the man's holster, then the ground around the body. "His blaster's gone."
Alan touched a tiny, barely bleeding scratch on the man's neck. "Look at this."
Mark obeyed. "He scratched it on a thorn. So what?"
Julia knelt beside another body, gingerly turning it over. "I wonder if these could be the patrolmen from the interceptor -- the ones we saw get away. There were just three of them, weren't there?"
"Yes." Alan checked the man's belt pouches. "Nothing's been taken -- not even the food."
"Hmm ..." Mark moved to the body draped over the log. "This one's a sublieutenant." He dug in the man's pouches and removed his identification. "Sublieutenant Kelley, presently stationed at the Patrol outpost on Kasal. Interestin' ..." He picked up the man's helmet and pressed the com unit, turning up the speaker so his companions could hear.
Voices emerged from it. "... Checking it over now, sir, but I don't see any bodies. Looks like they all got out. Jenkins reports he saw 'em heading for the forest." There was a short, dry laugh.
"Damn!" another voice responded. "Probably nothing but scavenger food by now."
"Yeah, probably. One of 'em was a girl, too."
"Parnell's brat?"
"Evidently not. The Parnell girl was supposed to be a brunette. At least she looked that way in the pictures. This gal was a blond -- Kelley said so."
"We're dispatching search parties now, sir," a third voice broke in.
"About time, too!"
"Aw, sir ..." The man sounded tired. "They're probably already dead. I hate sending men out there like a bunch of sacrificial goats."
"Too damn bad. Get 'em moving."
"Yes sir." The transmissions ended.
Julia turned from the man she had been examining, her face pale. "They think we're *dead*!"
Mark was removing the power cells from the sublieutenant's belt pouches. "Get their ammo and supplies. Whoever did this took the blasters but left the power cells. Interestin'. An' why should they think we're dead? They saw us escape. They said so."
Alan stared down at the quiet form lying across the log, then on impulse pulled the neck of his uniform open. "Look at this."
"What?"
"This one has a scratch on his neck, too. In the same spot as the other one."
Mark stared, then looked at Alan. "You thinkin' what I'm thinkin'?"
Alan got to his feet and went to kneel beside the third patrolman. The mark was plain here as well, a tiny, barely bleeding scratch just beneath the left ear.
"Poison," Julia said softly. "Darts or arrows, or maybe knives. There *are* natives here, all right, no matter what the survey reports say."
"This don't make sense," Mark said. "They haven't even fired their blasters -- at least, I don't see any signs of it around here." He scanned the trees and undergrowth. "And there aren't any bodies but the 'trols themselves."
"The marks are under their uniform collars," Alan observed.
"Yeah -- an' no darts or arrows are gonna go through this stuff. If whoever did this got close enough to pull back their clothes, why didn't the 'trols just shoot 'em?"
"What would cause the vomiting?" Julia asked.
Alan glanced up. "Poison could cause that."
"Oh." She shivered. "I don't like this. Whoever killed these guys could just as easily do the same to us."
There was an uneasy pause. Julia spoke again.
"Maybe it wasn't natives. They might have encountered some poisonous plant or something. There's a kind of pod on Bellian that grows deep in the woods. It looks harmless enough, but it can send you into convulsions if you get a whiff of the stuff inside."
"What about the scratches on their necks?" Mark asked.
"It could just be a coincidence."
Linley raised an eyebrow at her. "Maybe, but somehow I don't think so. Look, now we have the Patrol's coms, we can monitor what they're doin'. Kid, you better take a pair of boots."
Alan looked at his feet, then at the dead patrolmen. "Maybe I'd better not."
"Huh? Why not?"
"Whatever did this must not like the Patrol much."
Mark's face changed and he quickly put the helmet down. "Hell! I didn't think of that!"
Julia looked uneasily around. "What do you think, Alan? Is it safe to take a helmet?"
Alan shook his head. "I don't know. Even without a uniform, Mark looks a lot like a 'trol."
Linley nodded. "You're right. I ain't touchin' the thing again."
"I could carry it," Julia suggested. "Nobody could possibly mistake me for a patrolman."
"Nothin' doin'," Mark said firmly. "We don't know nothin' about these natives, honey -- if there really *are* natives here. Can *you* tell a female Procyon from a male? -- I mean, without lookin' at the way it's dressed?"
"Well, no ..."
"We're leavin' the helmet -- and the boots," Linley said. "That is unless Colonel Westover thinks we oughta take 'em."
Alan shook his head. "Let's get out of here. The boots would be awfully big for me, anyway."
"Guess so," Mark agreed. "Maybe we can make you something for your feet -- but it's better bein' barefoot than gettin' killed. How about this guy's emergency pack? Do we dare risk it?"
Alan hesitated and then nodded. "I think it's safe. Besides, we need the stuff in it."
They went on, Mark and Julia glancing about nervously, but conversely, Alan found himself curiously relaxed, the feeling of menace gone. Several times, he completely lowered his shields and extended telepathic scans around the area, and each time came up with nothing. Wildlife he could sense, and once he even picked up the mind of a Terran -- quite far away and moving off at an angle -- but other than that, nothing.
An hour later, the light began to fade and the occasional patches of sky visible to them glowed in a multitude of colors -- one of the most magnificent sunsets Alan had ever seen. They tramped on, afraid to stop too soon, and slowly the colors faded and the sky darkened. They stopped finally in a small clearing, surrounded by the huge trees. The brighter stars had begun to appear.
Alan dropped heavily beside the stream and pulled off his tattered boots. Mark knelt beside him. "You okay, kid?"
"Yeah." Alan lowered his blistered feet into the water. "Just a bit tired."
"I'm not surprised after what happened to you," Julia said. She dropped one of the thin emergency blankets from the patrolman's kit over his shoulders. "Maybe you should wear this since your jacket got burned up. It doesn't look like a patrol uniform."
"Maybe." Alan pulled his feet from the water, suddenly chilly, and wrapped it around himself.
"Have you sensed anything else?" she asked.
He shook his head. "If they're here, they're not near enough for me to pick them up," he said. He settled down with his back against one of the big tree trunks. "What kind of gourmet specialty have we got for dinner tonight?"
Mark rummaged in the kit and tossed his companions concentrated rations. "Fillet de concentrates," he informed them.
Alan caught the package. His mouth was watering at the thought of food. Silence fell as they opened the containers and began to eat.
There had been no sign of animal life earlier, with the exception of birds and the creature that Mark had accidentally flushed, but once they were still, the nocturnal life of the planet quickly became apparent. Insects buzzed and thrummed. Something shrilled loudly in the tree overhead, the sound dying slowly to a thin, agonized gurgle. Mark glanced up and swore under his breath. Julia shrank closer to him.
"Something's coming!" Alan whispered.
A dark, animal shape emerged silently from the underbrush across the stream. The thing walked erect, but it was half again as high as Mark. They could hear its panting breaths as it bent, drank noisily and ambled away into the forest again.
"Shall we light a fire?" Julia's whisper shook.
"Are you nuts?" Linley glared at her. "Why not send up a flare, too? Then they'd be sure not to miss us!"
"But there *are* animals around," Julia protested. "I don't want to count on them *all* being vegetarians."
The thing in the tree overhead voiced a cackling sound exactly like a human laugh.
"We'll just have to stand guard," Linley said. "We have our blasters."
"So did the patrolmen," Julia pointed out. "What do *you* think, Alan?"
Alan shrugged uncomfortably. "I sort of side with Mark on this. Sorry."
Mark put an arm around her. "Better to be eaten alive than die in the execution chair, baby."
She shrugged him off. "All right. I trust your judgement, Alan." She smiled at him, ignoring Mark.
Linley shrugged.
Alan took another bite of the food concentrate, trying to prop his eyelids open. He had never been so tired in his life, and the sound of the stream was lulling. His head jerked suddenly, and he felt Linley's hand descend on his shoulder.
"Hit the hay, pal. I'll take first watch."
Alan didn't protest. He finished the rations and curled up on a patch of fernlike growths, pulling the blanket closely around him. A short distance away, Julia also lay down. The stars overhead blazed, and Alan could see the bright arch of the rings across the sky a little to the south. A meteor traced a fiery path across the darkening sky as he watched. From where he lay he could see Mark's dark silhouette, his blaster drawn and resting across his knees. The barrel glinted faintly in the dim light.
Something blazed brilliantly across the sky, and for a moment the shrubbery around them was bathed in hard, white light. Alan started up, thinking it was a ship. A moment later he settled back a little sheepishly as the glowing trail split into two smaller ones, and he realized it was simply another meteor.
Sleep crept over him. He closed his eyes and faces swam in the darkness behind his lids. He saw his partner's face, with it's white, magnetic smile, Julia's lovely features, Tarfee's strangely vacant eyes, seeming to gaze right past him, and Lyn Parnell, her delicately-boned face turned up to his, her eyes bright with anger and scorn. He pushed the image away, trying to think of something else.
Small, round features, dark, enormous eyes, and a thick, shaggy pelt of hair ... it was the face he had seen in the trees upon awakening. He jerked awake with a gasp.
"What's the matter?" Mark's voice said out of the darkness.
"Nothing." Alan settled back, feeling a little silly. "Guess I was dreaming again."
"Go to sleep," his partner said.
"Mark," Alan said.
"Yeah?"
"How near were you to me when I was out this afternoon? Did you leave me alone at any time -- even just for a few seconds?"
"Nope," Mark said. "Jul was worried sick, and I sorta was, too. She hovered over you like a mother hen, bandaged you up and washed off the soot. Neither of us got more than three meters from you the whole time. Why?"
"Nothing. Forget it."
Mark shifted, leaning back against another tree trunk. "You're thinkin' about that face you saw."
"Well ... yes, I am. I can't get it out of my mind."
"Well ..." Linley sounded dubious. "Somethin' killed those 'trols -- an' I don't believe it was poisonous pods or anythin' like that. What did the face look like?"
"Not like us," Alan said. "But sort of. It was small, with big eyes, lots of hair, big ears ..." He stopped.
"Sounds sort of like that kid's story about space elves," Mark said. "Did this guy have a beard, too, like little King Jupiter?"
"No," Alan said. "It was probably a dream, though."
"Maybe," Mark said, "an' maybe not. I ain't drawin' no conclusions until I meet these natives. I trust you, kid, an' if you say it wasn't a dream, then you're probably right."
"Well, I'm not *sure*." Alan pulled the blanket up to his chin. "It felt like I was awake, but you know how that is. And the face vanished as soon as I moved."
Mark rubbed a thumb across the blond stubble on his chin. "Well, you took a good beatin' -- it's no wonder you passed out when we got you into the forest."
"I saw you coming for me," Alan said. "You could have been killed."
"There wasn't nothin' I could do," Mark said. "You were too far away."
"I know," Alan said. "I still don't understand why I'm alive. That fighter hit me -- a good shot, too -- but I wasn't touched. I picked up these burns running through the fire afterwards."
"Well, you're alive, an' that's all I ask," Mark said. "You better get some sleep, though. G'night." He got to his feet and went to lean against a tree.
Another meteor shot across the sky, vanishing behind the dark, towering trees, and Alan wondered for a moment why there were so many meteors, and then figuratively kicked himself. The answer was obvious. The magnificent set of rings, of course. Something had caused them -- maybe an exploding moon, or something -- and every now and then a piece of debris would be pulled in by the planet. He wondered idly how life on Kasal had altered after the cataclysm.
He closed his eyes and let his mind drift. Lyn's face appeared again, but not angry this time. She was as he had last seen her, her lips curving in a smile. That smile! There was something strange -- almost triumphant -- in it.
Somewhere in the thicket to his right, a night bird began to chant slowly and rhythmically. Alan slept.
**********
tbc
