The Crystal Demon: 31/32
by Nancy Smith and Linda Garrick
Afterwards, he remembered very little of the journey to the aircar, except that it seemed endless. He and Miki crashed recklessly through tangled vines and shrubbery, tearing clothing and skin. Ten minutes passed and Mark felt no further link with his partner.
"Mik!" he panted. "He ain't comin' to, an' he shoulda by now!"
Miki was slow to answer, and when he did, there was fear in his voice. "He might never wake up, Mark."
"Huh? What're you talkin' about?"
"The globe has Jeel. It might tell him t'kill Alan."
Mark swallowed and found that his throat was dry. "Will he do it?"
Again Miki hesitated. "I don't *know*, dammit! Jeel is strong, an' he knows Alan an' you are my only hope o' survival. That might make him stronger, but I just don't know!"
Mark swallowed again. The globe thing was afraid of Alan and had already tried to kill him. Now it was trying to force its slave to do the dirty work for it. If only Jeel's link with Miki was enough to help him hold out against it! "Mik, what if it can't force Jeel to kill Alan? What'll it do?"
Miki made a sound that was close to a sob. "Then it'll probably kill Jeel."
Mark considered the possibility. "No, it won't do that."
"An' why not? It has the power, an' if Jeel won't do as it says --"
"It won't." Mark was surprised at his own confidence. "Jeel might balk at killin' Alan, but he'll probably do anythin' else it tells him to do. Think, Mik. Why did it take over Jeel?"
"'Cause his shieldin' is bad."
"Yeah, that was convenient, that's for sure, but he was also comin' with us -- back to Kasal. It knew that, so it took him over an' kept him actin' normal enough that we wouldn't suspect anythin'. It had a reason for doin' that. Damn thing's smart."
"The Jils!" Miki gasped. "It wanted to get back with the Jils!"
"Right! It liked its position as Halthzor's flunky! They were providin' all its meals -- no work at all for the globe critter. So it won't kill Jeel -- not yet, anyway. It needs him t'take it to the Jils. It can't move on its own, an' Jeel's its legs."
"You're right." There was relief in the Shirva's voice. "Is Alan wakin' up, yet?"
"Not yet." Mark swore silently. "Where's the condemned aircar?"
"Right here." Miki vanished for a moment and Linley followed him through a screen of tall, waving fronds. The vehicle appeared, and they scrambled within.
The aircar rose, under Mark's hands, and headed in a beeline in the direction from which Alan's call had come. Miki huddled beside him, and the tension was so thick in the air that Mark could almost see it.
"Anythin' yet?" Miki asked.
"Not yet. Dammit, Mik, stop askin'! You'll be the first to know!"
"I's sorry." Miki hesitated. "Do you ... do you *feel* any different?"
"Whatcha mean?"
"I ..." the Shirva hesitated. "Mark, I am so scared! Jeel may have killed him! Do you feel that he is still linked with you?"
"I just told you --"
"No, I don't mean that." Miki looked up at him. "I mean ... you *are* linked all the time, you know. You only feel the link when Alan is in trouble ... at least that's the way it is with Jeel and me."
"Yeah, that's the way it is with us, too. Alan transmits, an' I hear him, but how the hell am I supposed to know whether he's unconscious or dead? I can't feel nothin' --"
"Jeel did," Miki said, unexpectedly.
"Jeel did what?"
"Feel somethin'. That was before me. He was linked with his wife, an' she was killed. He didn't see it happen, but he knew." Miki hesitated. "He told me. The link was suddenly gone, an' he knew she was dead."
"Oh." Mark tried to consider how he felt, trying not to let what he wanted to feel color reality. "I ain't sure, but I don't feel any different than before."
"That's good. He's probably okay, then, but I sure wish he'd wake up. "
"Me, too," Mark said. "Listen, Mik, how come you didn't notice nothin'? Seems t'me that if Alan had been taken over by that damned thing, I'da noticed. You two are linked, after all."
Miki looked away. "I ... I *did* notice, but I wasn't sure what was wrong. I thought maybe it was 'cause we were away from Kasal, an' maybe I was feelin' a little goofy."
"Oh." Mark fell silent, intent on sending the little craft ahead at maximum velocity. Miki was also silent, staring out the window at the rocky landscape below. It was just past midday, but the light was dim, due to the rain. Mark poked a button on the car's computer. "About fifteen kilometers to go, I think. Hope I can find him --"
"Was he in the aircar when he called you. It would be a lot easier to spot the aircar."
"I don't think so. He felt wet -- ah!"
"What?"
"I got the aircar! He can't be far away."
Mark directed their aircar down into the clearing. Alan's car was parked beneath the spreading branches of a large tree and there was no sign of a struggle. Linley climbed out and hurried forward, clutching his blaster. Miki was right beside him.
But there was no sign of Alan. Linley looked frantically around. "Dammit! He could be anywhere. Are you a tracer, Mik?"
"What?"
"A tracer. Can you find things that are lost?"
"If they are close by, sometimes," Miki said, dubiously. "But Alan --"
Mark extracted the wallet from his belt pouch and opened it to remove a photograph. "This is a picture of Alan's little sis. He's real attached to it. Can you track him with it?"
Miki stared dubiously at the image. "I've never done anything like this. Is Lyn a tracer?"
"I think so, but --"
"Maybe you should call her. I can try, but I ain't sure I can."
"Well, dammit --" Mark chewed his lip. "Okay, I guess you're right. I'll call her, an' while she's on her way, you can try. She might not be able t'find him neither, y'know. She ain't trained." He pulled out his communicator and pressed a button. "I sure hate t'do this, but it ain't likely we'll get picked up this once. Marti, come in."
The pilot's voice responded at once. "Marti here."
"This is Mark. We got an emergency, an' need Lyn. Put her in an aircar an' head for us. I'll give you our coordinates --"
Marti interrupted him. "I can't sir. She isn't here."
"*What*?"
"She's gone, sir. Must've been about twenty minutes ago. All of a sudden she seemed to go crazy. I think she must have received a telepathic communication from someone -- at least she acted like she did. She said she had to go to her cabin, but I suspected something and tried to hold her at blasterpoint. She disarmed me with telekinesis and stunned me. She must have left immediately afterward."
Mark swore. "Did you look for her?"
"Yes, sir. We've looked everywhere around the ship. She's not here, and the scanners aren't picking her up anywhere around nearby." His voice fell. "Did Colonel Westover probe her well, sir? Are you sure she isn't a Jil plant?"
"Yeah, I'm sure. I'm guessin' Alan called her. Stand by." Mark switched off and spoke to Miki. "Alan probably called her at the same time he linked with me. He's great at sendin' out distress signals. You got any ideas?"
"I think it is this way." Miki pointed, and began to push his way through wet greenery. "I's not sure, but it's what I feel --"
They had taken barely ten steps when Mark felt the link, accompanied by the beginning throb of pain in his head. Miki stopped. "What is it?"
"He's wakin' up!"
The link was forming slowly, a wavering consciousness of Alan's mind. Mark could feel his partner's confusion, along with increasing pain in his head -- and pain in his hands as well.
"He's this way! You were right!" Mark charged forward, ripping his way through dripping undergrowth, Miki scuttling along beside him.
For a few moments Alan's consciousness continued to slide in and out of Mark's awareness. Alan was only about half there, but the link was functioning at the peak of efficiency. Slowly it strengthened and solidified. Alan's voice called his name weakly.
"Comin', kid!" Mark shouted the words as he ripped and tore his way through the vegetation, tearing his skin on branches and thorny growth. Miki scurried silently along beside him.
**********
XXXVI
Alan's first awareness was of pain -- throbbing pain -- centered in his head and spreading unevenly down through his neck and shoulders. He groaned faintly.
Something cold, wet and stickery was beneath his cheek. After an endless time, he realized it was the forest floor. Rain sifted silently down through the branches above him, dripping on his neck. He was soaked to the skin.
He tried to move, and the effort sent assorted pains coursing through his head and neck. Burning tingles ran down his arms. His wrists were ringed with fire.
*Mark!* He formed his partner's name in his mind. Surely, now, their link must be functioning. *Mark, help!*
There was no reply, of course. Alan expected none, but he was also certain that, if Mark was alive, he had heard the call.
Alan lay still, trying to gather his wits and remember what had happened. It had been Jeel, he recalled now. Jeel had been behaving oddly, and Alan had done a mind probe. The little alien had fought, but Alan had prevailed and discovered what he had already suspected -- that Jeel was a slave of the globe beast.
The two Shirva had been in the lab when he and Mark had discovered the unshrouded globe. Had the takeover occurred then? Probably. Who could know for sure? They knew too little about the thing, but Jeel had certainly been possessed and had taken the globe, undoubtedly concealing it beneath his tunic and the protective cloth, so that Alan would not sense it.
He tried to move. His hands were fastened behind him with something that, he realized at last, must be the handcuffs that he had carried as part of his standard gear -- handcuffs designed specifically to hold telekinetics. They could be adjusted to fit almost any size, and Jeel must have figured out the mechanism, for the restraints were cruelly tight. His wrists burned and his hands felt numb.
Alan felt a wash of anger, and had to remind himself that Jeel had not done this of his own free will. It was the being in the globe -- the cruel, powerful psychic entity that had taken over Jeel's mind and will, forcing him to obey its commands. Jeel had been fighting, suffering terrible pain in his defiance of the creature. Alan turned his anger on the globe beast. Psychic power misused and manipulated to hurt someone he cared about. Perhaps it was the creature's nature to do this, but it still infuriated him. Somehow, he would find the thing again -- find it and destroy it. Kaley wasn't here to stop him, this time, and even if Mark tried to, he wouldn't allow it. Nobody would.
He thought of the strange, glassy eyes of the man they had rescued from the Jils. Tarfee. The Jilectans and the globe thing must somehow have communicated. Somehow, the globe creature had known what the Jils wanted from it. It had returned to them, using Jeel as a means of locomotion. Interrogations with the globe to assist would become easier. Danoole Parkraft had possessed shielding, and yet the thing had somehow taken partial control of his mind. Perhaps after prolonged physical contact, shielding would begin to break down. In any case, the globe and the Jilectans apparently understood each other. And now, the thing was on its way to Halthzor, and there was nothing that Alan could do to prevent it.
They *must* stop it, somehow! Alan concentrated on the shackles that held his wrists, trying to will the mechanism to move. The metal was like welded iron beneath his telekinetic fingers. He increased his efforts, feeling sweat start out on his face. He *must* get free!
At last he gave up, his skin crawling with sweat. His head swam and reddish water trickled into his eyes. Blood. Jeel must have hit him after firing the stunbolt. He had been fighting the commands of the globe thing. He had refused to kill Alan as the thing had commanded, but instead had compromised by stunning him and then striking him, but not killing. So, the thing was not all-powerful, even over its slave. Jeel was resisting.
Somehow, he had to get free and rescue Jeel! *Please hurry, Mark!* Again, he reached mentally for his bonds, straining at them. Black spots jumped out of the air before him. He mustn't pass out! If he did, his link with Mark would disappear and Linley would be unable to find him. He must be patient and wait. It was Jeel's only chance.
How long had it been since Jeel had left? Would the Shirva take the aircar? Did he even know how to pilot such a vehicle? Alan didn't think so, but perhaps the globe beast would tell him how. It seemed to know so darned much!
**********
Someone was touching him, and Alan jerked painfully awake. His first thought was that Jeel had returned -- that the globe thing had triumphed at last and forced the Shirva to return to finish the job.
"Jeel! No --"
"Easy, kid, it's me."
Mark's face was hovering over him, and his hands were free. Fully conscious now, Alan felt the burning tingle of returning circulation. Mark was bracing him with one arm and probing the lump on his head with his free hand.
"Man, he musta hit you hard! You got a nasty cut on your scalp."
"It wasn't Jeel," Alan said. "It's the globe. It's making him do what it says."
"Yeah, we know. Hold still a minute an' let me look at that. Dammit, it's bad. Hold still while I put in some clips. You been bleedin' all over the place."
"Mark, we don't have the time!"
"Miki, c'mere an' help me. I'm makin' the time, kid. Damn thing's still oozin'. Hold still."
Alan gave in to the inevitable as his partner began to apply clips to the cut, wincing at the sting. "Ouch. Hurry, Mark. Jeel's in awful trouble."
"I'm almost done. There, that does it. Can you stand up?"
"Sure." Alan staggered upright, clutching his partner's arm. The landscape lurched sharply.
Mark swept him up into his arms like a baby. Alan didn't protest, and his partner strode through the underbrush, Miki scampering along beside them. "Hurry!" the Shirva piped.
Alan closed his eyes and let himself drift. Then, suddenly, they were at the aircar and Mark was stowing him inside. "Jeel's takin that critter to the Jils," his partner said. "We gotta find him. Can you help us out? Miki ain't a good tracer."
"I think so." Alan closed his eyes and concentrated, envisioning Jeel's small, impish face. Mark grasped his arm, supplying extra power.
He didn't sense Jeel, but the globe itself. The aura was strong and somewhere to the south -- toward the Patrol base.
"I sense the globe," he said. "He must have it uncovered. It's south of us. Hurry!"
"We're on our way." Mark leaped behind the controls and the car soared upward.
**********
XXXV
Lyn Parnell walked slowly down a wide corridor toward the colony ship's cafeteria. She wasn't hungry, really, but the waiting was driving her crazy. She couldn't shake off the feeling that something was wrong.
The robot waiter purred softly across the big cabin as she entered. "May I help you?" it inquired in a pleasant baritone voice.
"Just coffee, please," she said.
"Of course, Miss." The robot purred away. Lyn seated herself and, a moment later, the robot was back, and setting a steaming mug before her.
Someone entered the cabin, and Lyn glanced up to see young Marti, the pilot. He was a tall, slender, rather handsome man, with blond hair and bright green eyes -- somewhat like Alan's. He saw her and crossed the cabin to her, smiling a little hesitantly. "Hello, Miss Parnell. May I join you?"
"Sure." Lyn sensed his discomfort. The man knew she was a psychic, of course. Was he uncomfortable because he was afraid she would read his thoughts, or maybe because he half-believed the stuff the Jils said about psychics? And why not? Lyn had half-believed them, herself, sometimes. The Jils' propaganda could be very convincing.
The robot waiter paused beside Marti and he spoke to it briefly. The machine purred away, and the pilot lowered himself into the chair across from her, smiling rather bashfully. His teeth were white and straight, and he looked about eighteen, although he was probably closer to twenty-five.
"How's the coffee?" he asked.
"Pretty good." Again, she sensed his discomfort. Perhaps he didn't like her because she had been a patrolman's brat. She looked away, trying to think of an excuse to leave.
"What's wrong?" His voice was genuinely worried.
"Nothing." She shook her head. "I have to be going."
He stood up. "Is something the matter?" His voice was sharp. "Are you getting a warning? Alan said you were a good precog."
She looked across the table at him, an odd revelation dawning. Marti Wilkins accepted her powers as part of life, just as Mark and Julia had. It was no shame that she was a psychic. It was a simple fact.
She smiled. "No, nothing like that. I just ..." She paused, realizing he might resent the fact that she had sensed his emotions.
But now, the uneasiness was lessening. "What were you going to say?" he prompted.
"I'm sorry, but -- well, I sensed that you were uncomfortable with me. I thought maybe it was because I'm a psychic."
He stared at her a moment, then burst out laughing. "Good grief! That wasn't the reason! It's just that you looked so grim when you saw me that I thought maybe you didn't like *me*!"
"Oh, no!"
"And if I didn't like psychics, I wouldn't be in the Underground. The Lavirra base is crawling with 'em, and they're the nicest, most sensitive bunch you ever met. Holy Mike! I grew *up* with psychics. My whole family is psychic, except for me."
"Really? All of them?"
"My mom, my dad, my three brothers and two sisters. I was the only commoner in the bunch." He grinned and took a swig of coffee. "My youngest brother, Dennis, is only seven. Mom's expecting again in May, and her doctor assures us it's another psychic." He grimaced. "Makes me feel sort of left out."
Lyn nodded. "I can see why. How could it happen, though? If psychic abilities are inherited and both your parents are psychics, and all your sisters and brothers are, how could you have been missed?" She felt herself flushing at his grin. "Oh my! I'm sorry! I didn't mean --"
He was laughing. "My mom and dad are so devoted to each other it's scary. They're psychic partners. You've heard of that, haven't you?"
"Yes."
"There's lots of man and wife psychic Teams in the Underground." He laughed again. "No, the reason I got left out is simple. You know it's fairly common for two brown-eyed people to produce a blue-eyed child."
"Yes, of course," Lyn said. "Brown eyes are dominant, but both parents might carry the blue-eyed trait."
"Exactly. It's the same with psychics. The psychic gene is dominant. Both my parents are single-gene psychics, so every child they produce has a one in four chance of inheriting both non-psychic genes. That's what happened with me."
"I see," Lyn said. "And there's also a one in four chance that the baby will have both psychic genes."
Marti nodded, his expression darkening. "My brother Carl -- he was two years older than me -- might have been a double gene psychic. All the psychics on the base said he put out a terrific psychic aura. In fact, Carl was how my family came to join the Underground. A Jil picked him out of a crowd and ordered him taken. He was being chased when an aircar showed up like an avenging angel and snatched him up. The Underground, of course."
"My goodness! What kind of crowd was he in?"
"A school playground. He was only twelve at the time."
"Oh!"
"Yeah." Marti scowled into his coffee. "Poor Carl. He was killed about two years ago. The Jils picked him up while he and my little sis, Lisa, were on a spying mission."
"Oh dear! Marti -- I mean, Lieutenant Wilkins -- I'm sorry!"
He shrugged, gulping down the last of his coffee. "Where's that damned waiter? Charlie! C'mere!"
The robot approached diffidently, poured coffee, and buzzed away again. Marti sighed. "It's been hardest on Lisa. She was his partner. She's hardly spoken since it happened, and stays by herself a lot. Kaley made her go into therapy, but I don't think it helped much. It's hard on a psychic to lose a partner -- in fact, I can't think of anything more traumatic. Lisa was the sweetest, happiest, best-adjusted kid I knew until Carl died. You'll understand if you ever have a partner, Lyn -- I mean Miss Parnell."
"Call me Lyn," she said.
"Okay -- if you'll call me Marti." He grinned, then sobered again. "I hope she finds another partner soon. She won't even date. Alan's tried, and so has Mark -- and half a dozen others on the base. She won't have anything to do with them. She acts like she's being disloyal to Carl by developing any other relationships."
"It must be terrible," Lyn said. "Like losing a part of yourself."
Marti looked surprised. "I've heard it described that way. Where did you hear it?"
"I don't know. I think from Alan or Mark. He and Alan are psychic partners, aren't they?"
Marti looked surprised. "They're partners, not psychic partners. Major Linley isn't a psychic."
"Oh, of course not," Lyn said, feeling her face burning. "I know that! I don't know why I even thought it!"
"I know," Marti said. "It's almost like they are, but it can't be, of course."
"Of course not," Lyn said. Yet the thought remained, though she didn't voice it. There was some kind of bond between the two men, and several puzzling events during their previous experience on Kasal that remained unexplained ...
The thought ended abruptly. Alan's mind closed suddenly with hers. She had never felt such an intense call before. Although no words were spoken, she sensed his mind calling out for help.
*Alan!* she shouted his name in her mind. *What's wrong?*
No answer, but the call continued. It was, she thought, a subconscious summons. Alan's whole conscious self was directed at the danger before him. Words reached her at last. *Jeel, give me the blaster.*
Jeel? What was going on?
Hands caught her shoulders, shaking her a little. "Hey, Lyn! Are you okay?"
Her eyes focused on the face of Marti Wilkins. He was looking worried, but his expression said he knew what was happening. "Someone's talking to you telepathically! Who is it? Alan?"
Lyn stared at him wildly. If she told him the truth, he wouldn't let her go, and she *must* go! Alan was in trouble. He needed her!
"Nothing." She got to her feet. Alan's mind was still evident, calling, and making it difficult to concentrate on what she was saying. "I ... I don't feel well. I'd better go lie down."
"Nothin' doin'!" Marti's eyes narrowed. "You're receiving a telepathic communication. Why don't you want to tell me who it is?" His mouth became grim, and suddenly a blaster had materialized in his hand. "Don't move, Miss Parnell, or I'll stun you." He moved back toward a wall communicator. "Maybe I'm wrong, and if I am, I hope you'll forgive me, but I can't take the chance." He pressed the intercom button. "Wally --"
For an instant, Lyn thought Marti had pulled the trigger, for a strange tingling washed over her. Then, all at once, Alan's mind was gone from hers. Alan must have been stunned.
Her attention centered on Marti and the blaster. He was suspicious of her. She hadn't answered him, and he suspected her of being a Jilectan spy. He thought that perhaps the Jils had finally stooped to using Terran psychics to infiltrate the Underground, and that she had received a communication from a Jilectan.
She mustn't let him summon help! If she did, she would be detained and questioned, perhaps even drugged until Alan could return to do a deep probe on her. But if that happened, Alan would never return! He needed her, and she must go to him immediately.
Marti was speaking into the wall communicator. "Wally, do you read me? Come in."
Alan had done it. Mark had told her that he had snatched the weapon from the hands of a patrolman with telekinesis -- snatched it and outdrawn Salthvor. Twenty-five percent of Terran psychics were telekinetics, and Leroy Burke at the Lavirra station, had told her that he strongly suspected that she was one.
Her gaze flicked to the blaster again. Move, she thought. In her mind, she reached for it and knew astonishment at the feel of the weapon beneath her mental fingers. It felt awkward, clumsy, but she forced those fingers to move -- to jerk the weapon toward her.
It writhed free of Marti's grasp and flipped high in the air. The young lieutenant gave a startled yelp as it spun wildly for a moment, out of control, then clattered to the deck two meters from Lyn.
Well, control she lacked, but the power worked! Lyn felt a wild surge of elation as she flung herself forward, grabbed the weapon and brought it up. Marti was shouting for help as he charged toward her. Lyn rolled to her back, aimed and fired.
He collapsed almost on top of her. Lyn rolled away, gasping, and scrambled to her feet. Someone was shouting questions over the com. Lyn didn't pause to listen. She ran past the indifferent robot and out the door.
Toward the lifeboat bays she ran. She must hurry, or it would be too late. She knew that for certain.
Someone was coming toward her -- several someones, in fact. Wally and the Security team.
Lyn spun and ran in the opposite direction. No time to get to the aircars now. When they found Marti stunned, they would seal off the ship and she would be trapped.
Almost by magic, the hatch appeared before her. Lyn raced toward it. She slapped her hand on the opening switch and it slid open with a sigh of compressed air. In an instant, she had pushed through the opening airlock door and out into the rainy daylight of Kasal. Behind her, she barely noticed as the lock clicked shut again.
A shower of misty rain greeted her as she ran down the ramp. All around her was forest and she ran straight toward it, feet flying, the long grass catching at her ankles. The forest loomed before her, dark and uninviting, but she never hesitated. Neither hostile natives, wild beasts or Duke Halthzor himself would have stopped her now. Alan had called for help, and by god, she would answer!
How would she find him? With the contact broken, she had no way of locating him. But the closest village was in this direction. That was where he and Jeel had been going, and it was from this direction that the call had come. She knew that as clearly as if she had a compass in her head telling her so.
She tore her way forward, in as straight a line as she could manage. At last she paused to rest, breathing hard. *Alan!* She shouted his name in her head, reaching outward with every milligram of her long-suppressed telepathic power and willing him to reply.
Nothing. No flicker of response. Was he dead? No, he couldn't be. Somehow she knew that. *Alan! Alan! Answer me!*
For a long moment, the blankness remained. Then something *did* touch her, but it was not Alan. It was a presence that she had felt before -- a cruel, powerful mind; a mind that hated her, and all Terran psychics. Her breath caught in her throat and her shielding snapped into place. The other mind was shut out, but she sensed it was still there, intelligent, malevolent, and searching -- searching for the mind of the Terran psychic that it had briefly touched. She caught a quick, blurred impression of light grey eyes and a handsome, aristocratic face. It had been Halthzor, and now he knew that she was here.
For a minute more she stood still, fighting back the paralysis of fear that had gripped her. Alan was still out there and in terrible danger. She must find him, but if she lowered her shields again to look, the chances were good that she would encounter the Jilectan again. But without telepathy, the search would be impossible.
Overhead, there was a soft, hissing sound. It sent memory jarring through her and she gulped a breath and held it. The natives! She hadn't even thought about them! The natives, who hated Terrans impartially because of what the Patrol had done to them.
Nausea washed over her and she staggered, falling to her knees. Something hit her on the back of the neck, throwing her forward. Small grey and brown-clad Shirva surrounded her.
She managed to roll to her back, still trying to hold her breath. The nausea was unbearable and she gagged as she tried to speak to them.
"Ta!" she managed between spasms. "Se tempa! Twerta!" The words ended in a spasm of coughing.
But the Shirva were drawing back from her, eyes and mouths open in surprise. Lyn moaned, rolling herself into a ball. Nausea overcame her.
Small hands lifted her gently, and she was carried a short distance and placed on a bed of soft, dry ferns. A burned-out tree, she realized miserably. The natives crowded around, and she heard their soft, worried voices. Small hands wiped sickness from her mouth and a sudden sharp, pungent odor filled her nostrils. She jerked back with a cry, and then, as though by magic, the nausea subsided.
One of the little people was bending over her, speaking softly and apologetically in the Shirva language. He was sorry. They were all sorry. They had not realized who she was ...
Lyn looked up at them, feeling miraculously normal again. The native spoke, telling her that they had been here for some time, watching the ship. Was she, then, one of the friendly Terrans who were going to help them?
Lyn nodded, and then replied in her own halting, Shirva speech, that she was, and that the ship was here for them. They seemed to understand, for they began to chatter excitedly to one another. The one who had spoken first addressed her again, asking respectfully if she would be so kind as to take them to the ship now.
Lyn hesitated, unsure how to word her refusal. "I'm sorry," she began at last, "but I can't. There's trouble." She stopped, momentarily at a loss for words.
"Trouble?" They were all watching her now, their expressions eager and intelligent.
"Yes. My friend Alan is in danger. I have to help him."
"Where is he?" the leader asked.
Lyn shook her head helplessly. "I don't know. He was heading for the settlement, that way." She pointed. "Then something must have happened. He called me, but the call cut off almost at once."
"Call?"
"A ... telepathic call. He and I are both rassa ... psychics."
The leader registered no surprise. "We have heard of the Terran psychics. What did your friend say?"
"He didn't have time to say much, but he's in terrible trouble. I know that." She got to her feet. "You can go on to the ship. My friends will welcome you on board. I must go now."
The leader caught her hand, and she saw that all the Shirva were watching her, still, their faces expectant and eager. The leader addressed her again, his voice very respectful. "We will help."
"But ... how can you?"
"You are in trouble and you are alone. We can take you toward the village. We know where it is." The Shirva's teeth flashed. "It is our village."
The small hand of the leader grasped hers, and she was drawn forward through the misty forest at a trot, the little people parting the vegetation for her.
**********
tbc
