My time is being eaten away, so it may take me longer than usual between segments, but I'm going to post the story following Wild Card. This introduces the psychic crystals, and two characters that appear in Toomelli's Moon as well.
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Copyright statement: This is an original work by the two authors. Any resemblance to any person, living, dead or fictional, is unintentional and coincidental. The writers retain all rights to this work, and the copyright may not be infringed.
Warning: this story contains violence and situations that may be disturbing to some. Be aware.
The Mines of Kuloghi: 1/11
By Nancy Smith and Linda Garrick
Rated: PG-13
I
Alan Westover sat back in the passenger seat in the control room of the scout ship as the little vessel came out of hyperspace. Without comment, he watched the two men at the controls, wishing he could take part. He was a passenger on this trip: a psychic observer only. He wasn't sure he liked it.
One of the men turned his head and grinned. "Well, we're here. Ready to do your stuff?"
Alan was already observing the panorama on the viewscreen. Amid a scattering of stars, the bluish crescent of a planet swam against the blackness of space.
"There she is." The pilot glanced sideways at him and grinned again. He was a stocky, middle-aged man with a balding head and a perpetual smile. The co-pilot, in contrast, was young, blond and muscular. He also glanced sideways at Alan, his expression a little awed.
"Do you really think you can find out anything just hovering up here, sir? I'm not picking up a thing on the com."
"We'll see," Alan said with a slight smile. "Maybe not."
The planet grew on the viewscreen, and Alan began to pick out the planet's features. There were four continents and several oceans. Two tiny satellites came into view. Kuloghi was the fourth planet of an F-type star, Margol, possessed a nitrogen-oxygen atmosphere, a gravity of .96 Terran, and had been the center of unexplained Patrol activity for the past nine Terran weeks.
"Scanning for ships," the co-pilot said. "None in range." He looked at Alan. "Closer?"
Alan nodded, watching the planet swell in the screen. He flinched suddenly. "What on Earth --"
"What's the matter?" the co-pilot asked.
"Sh!" The pilot was watching him, his blue eyes intent. Alan unfastened his safety webbing and took two steps forward to rest a hand on the forward viewscreen. There was a long silence.
"I'm picking up something," he said finally. "Take us closer."
"We could be spotted, Alan. With all this Patrol activity, they've got to be up to something. There's probably scanners on the surface."
Alan hesitated. "We've got to risk it. Whatever this is, it's important."
"All right." Doug leaned over the controls. "Pete, you keep a sharp lookout."
"Yessir."
Alan leaned closer, pressing both palms to the screen, heedless of fingerprints on the surface. Energy pulsed beneath his skin and the feeling surged upward through him: strong, almost painful in its intensity.
"There's something down there," he whispered. "Power. Tremendous power --" He closed his eyes again, reaching toward it. A Jilectan? No; it wasn't a living creature, he was sure. It was just power: raw power.
He groped forward, probing. The sensation was no longer almost painful. It hurt. A clear, high-pitched humming sound filled the cabin.
"Watch it!"
Hands caught him, lowering him into the copilot's chair. A sharp odor filled his nostrils. Alan gasped, choked and opened his eyes, blinking to clear his vision. The humming faded.
"Are you all right, sir?"
He stared up at the two anxious faces bending over him.
"Sir?" Pete waved the ammonia capsule beneath his nose. Alan jerked back.
"I'm okay." His voice wasn't quite steady.
The young copilot was offering him a bottle of water. He took it and swallowed a mouthful, his head still swimming a little. "Thanks."
"What happened?" the pilot asked.
Alan straightened up. "I think we're onto something here. There's an energy source down there -- psychic energy of some kind. Awfully strong stuff. I was trying to probe it and nearly overloaded."
A shrill beeping interrupted him, bringing the copilot around toward the control panel. "A ship!"
"Interceptor!" Doug yanked Alan to his feet. "Go strap in! Hurry!"
Alan knew when not to argue. He dashed through the hatchway into the more protected passenger section and yanked the safety webbing over his lap and chest even as he was flinging himself into the seat.
"Strap in!" Pete's voice sounded through the hatch. Alan didn't answer. Being the most gifted psychic in the Terran Special Forces had its annoying disadvantages. They protected him like a mother cat with one kitten.
"Weapons computer on." He heard Doug's voice clearly, although he was probably picking it up as much via his special senses as with his ears. "Let's get the hell out of here!"
"Blasters firing," Pete's voice responded. "Damn! Missed!"
Alan clung to the arms of the chair, watching the scene with his clairvoyant power. The computer fired again and there was a sudden jolt as their own defense system failed to deflect a shot. He was thrown sideways into his safety webbing, which bounced him gently back into his chair. Again, their computer fired.
He strained to see. *Another* miss! Doggone it! What was wrong with the thing?
He knew, of course, that the computer was the ultimate in combat efficiency; that it could fire faster and far more accurately than a man, but deep within him still lurked the primitive, emotional and totally illogical conviction that *he* could do better. The little ship jolted again and there was a rending crack somewhere forward.
"Hell!" It was Doug's voice. "That does it!"
Their weapons computer got in one last shot and finally scored a hit. Pete gave an exclamation of satisfaction. "Got him!"
But it was too late for them. The whine of engines rose to a scream as the ship's nose slanted downward toward the planet.
"Can't hold her!" He heard Doug's voice over the racket. "This is going to be rough!"
"Impact in twelve seconds!" Pete shouted. "Hold on!"
Metal crumpling around him, crashes and jolts, noise and confusion. Pain knifed through his ribs as he was thrown violently forward into the safety webbing.
"Mark!" It was his own voice, screaming his partner's name. Then he was hurled back into the seat and something flew at his face.
He didn't see it clearly. It flashed toward him, and he caught a vague impression of metal -- black, solid and bristling with rivets. He struck at it instinctively with his mind, trying to deflect it. The object veered upward ...
But not enough. It smacked solidly into his forehead, snapping his head back. Pain burst in his skull and stars flashed blindingly before his eyes. In the split second before he lost consciousness, Alan caught a glimpse of Mark Linley's startled face. Then, nothing at all.
II
Captain Mark Linley of the Terran Special Forces was seated at a long table crowded with other members of the organization. He was there in two capacities -- as the representative of the Westover-Linley psychic pair and also as one of the Underground's authorities on Jilectan military affairs.
It was late evening. The room was hot and stuffy, and Linley was tired. Julia Austell was seated across the table from him and he noted with resentment that she wasn't even sweating, her bright hair and lovely face apparently unaffected by the muggy heat. Linley wiped his dripping forehead and pushed back the blond hair that clung stickily to his face and ears. The air conditioning was out again, as might be expected. The techs were working on it, but in the meantime they simply had to endure it. The windows were closed, due to the current summer rainstorm. Linley cussed softly to himself and wondered what Kaley would do if his precious team of "experts" was to collapse from heat prostration.
Speaking of Major General Walter Kaley, the door to the hallway opened and their commanding officer entered the room. Everyone rose to his or her feet, and the murmur of talk died. Kaley stepped to the head of the table and looked around.
"Sit down, everyone," he requested mildly. "And someone open a window, please. It's stifling in here."
Someone moved to obey. Kaley pulled out his chair and settled into it. "I've called this meeting," he said, "because of Lieutenant Wilkins, who has just returned from her mission to Ranlach. Her partner, Captain Wilkins, was apparently spotted by a Jilectan and picked up."
Linley straightened and there was a sudden, quite tangible tenseness in the air. Kaley glanced at the man seated beside Linley. "How was Carl on shielding, Lee?"
Major Leroy Burke was a strong clairvoyant and telepath, who had been teaching shielding techniques to Underground members. Such techniques, if used correctly, would block out mind reading attempts. Burke had instructed Alan and Linley during their first months with the organization, while they had been learning the extent of Alan's abilities, and he had freely admitted that they were the most unusual pair that he had ever trained. All his efforts to provide Linley with more than marginal shielding had failed dismally and at last he had decided that the lack must have something to do with their unique mind linkage.
Burke steepled his fingers, frowning thoughtfully. He was a grey-haired man in the early part of his second century, blue-eyed, plump and noticeably short, as were all psychics. As a rule, the shorter he or she was, the more powerful the psychic's abilities. Allowing for his age and gender, Linley's own partner, Alan Westover, was the shortest of the lot. He was also the most gifted psychic that the Underground had yet discovered.
Linley, himself, was no psychic. He was two meters tall and proportionately built, tipping the scales at a hundred and twelve kilos. That was one reason that their link was considered unique, for every other psychic team was composed of two psychics, consciously linked. His tie to Alan -- or, to put it more accurately, Alan's to him -- was below the conscious level. There were also several other reasons.
Burke was speaking. "Carl was well conditioned. There was no reason that he should have been discovered. His shielding held under every conceivable test. I checked him out myself." He shrugged disconsolately. "I have no explanation, sir."
"Lisa," Kaley said.
A doll-sized girl beside Kaley got to her feet. Linley saw that she looked shaken, her face white and strained, her eyes red and swollen with recent tears. Lisa Wilkins; Carl's partner and his sister. "The report was fragmented, sir." Her voice was taut, held under rigid control. "He was cornered when he gave it. He may not have been thinking clearly." She closed her eyes for an instant and Linley could see her fighting to retain mastery of herself. They were silent, waiting. Linley was somewhat surprised to see her here at all. She should have been in Sickbay, under heavy sedation. The loss of one's psychic partner was a shattering experience: something that only someone who had such a partner could understand. He had seen it happen once before. The psychic had shot the patrolman that had killed his partner and then turned the blaster on himself.
"Lisa," Kaley said, as gently as possible.
"Yes, sir." Lisa lifted her face to the assembled group. "As you know, Carl was a telepath and an empath. His talents weren't particularly strong, but he was well-shielded. I know that for certain because even I couldn't read his mind unless his shields were down." She paused suddenly, her eyes filling with tears. Impatiently, she brushed them away. "I was waiting to rendezvous with Carl when I received a message from him." She picked up a sheet of crumpled paper from the tabletop. "I wrote it down before I took off so I'd be sure to remember all of it." Her voice trembled abruptly and she took a deep breath. "This is word for word as it came to me. 'Lisa, it's the Patrol! They've got me cornered. I can't get away. I know the Jil. It's Lord Binthvor, and he's holding something. I can't see it clearly, but there's a strong psychic aura coming from it. Here they come. Don't try to rescue me. It's too late. You've got to get this information back safe.'
"Of course --" She paused again, wiping away more tears with the back of her hand. "Of course, I was already on my way, but then he took the pill. I felt him do it." She gulped. "I received one more message from him after he was taken. The pill was working and the contact was weak, but I got it." She didn't glance at the paper. "'I see the thing he's holding. It's a crystal. I'll try to send you the image. They know I'm dying -- they're working to keep me alive. I won't let them'." Lisa stopped abruptly, sank into her chair and dissolved into tears.
Kaley took a piece of paper from an envelope. "Carl was the second agent to be picked up in the last week. The first one, Joan Patricks, sent no message and we have no way of knowing the circumstances of her capture, but we believe the incidents are connected. Joan's shielding was also excellent, and there is no explanation of her discovery, either. She also managed to end it before interrogation, but we must discover quickly why our agents are suddenly being spotted. Lisa believes it may have something to do with the crystal that Carl saw the Jilectan holding." He handed the paper to the man on his left.
"Carl sent me the image," Lisa said, brokenly. "I described it to Tony and he made a sketch."
The paper went from hand to hand. Linley stared at it as it was placed before him.
The drawing was clearly and cleverly done, catching the depths and contours of the stone. It was slightly elongated, a soft, milky-white in color, and faceted like a many-sided diamond.
Linley handed the drawing to Burke, who examined it carefully and then looked at Lisa. "Did Carl actually tell you that this thing was responsible for his shielding being penetrated?"
Lisa shook her head. "No, but I got the impression that he thought so. Poor Carl --" She broke off again. A young man beside her put an arm around her and she sobbed on his shoulder.
"Thank you, Lisa." Kaley jerked his head at the young man. "I want you to report to the infirmary, now."
Lisa didn't appear to hear him. Lewis Stevens, also a psychic and partner to Matthew Philips, the Senior Medical Officer of the base, helped her to her feet and led her from the room.
Leroy Burke set the paper before him and studied the drawing carefully for a moment and then placed his hand, palm down, directly over the image. He closed his eyes, his forehead furrowing. The room became silent as everyone watched expectantly. The seconds dragged by.
He sagged forward abruptly and lowered his head to the table before him. Linley could see the trickles of sweat running down his face and a damp patch half-covered the back of his shirt. He shook his head.
"Nothing?" Kaley asked, as though expecting it.
Burke lifted his head, wiping perspiration from his eyes. "I can't sir. Not from that, anyway. Alan might be able to pick up something more, though." He looked at Linley. "Where is he, anyway?"
"About thirty light years from here," Linley said sourly. "He went on that blasted mission to Kuloghi."
"Why aren't you with him?" Burke asked, somewhat surprised.
Linley gave a disgusted grunt. "I picked up food poisonin' along with the rest o' you guys, dammit." He glanced resentfully at Kaley. "Lewis Stevens had some kind o' precog about the damned place, so Alan got sent off in a big rush t'see what it was all about. I still don't see why you were in such an all-fired hurry, sir. Seems to me you coulda waited 'til I got over it."
Kaley ignored him and turned back to Burke. "No impressions, Lee? Nothing?"
The psychic shook his head. "I think we should wait until Alan gets back, sir. He might be able to make more of it than me."
The General's eyes roved over the assembly. "Comments?"
Someone beside Lieutenant Austell raised a hand and started to speak, but Linley was no longer listening. Alan's face appeared suddenly and vividly before his eyes and alarm jolted through him -- a sensation that he knew without doubt was coming from his partner's mind. He came to his feet, the chair tipping over backwards.
"Alan!"
They were all looking at him, but he didn't notice. He spun and sprinted instinctively for the door.
"Alan!" he shouted. "Look out!"
Pain lanced through his ribs and Alan's voice shouted his name.
"Captain!" The voice was faint in the background. Linley paid no attention to it. Something shot at him out of nowhere -- something black and metallic. He threw up his hands to block it, but the thing struck him, snapping his head back. Pain exploded through his skull and stars did a gigantic cartwheel behind his eyes. Linley pitched forward and lay still.
tbc
