Empath: 3/?
by Linda Garrick and Nancy Smith
IV
Alan gave a yell of alarm and sprang forward, holding his breath. The mist rose around him, stinging his face and blurring his vision. He bent over Mark, trying to pull him upright.
A hand seized his shoulder, yanked him back and sent him staggering to one side. Dimly through the fog of tears, he saw Kevin Bronson bending over Mark. Kevin lifted Linley to his shoulders, and Alan ran to grab the machete. Desperately he swung the heavy instrument, trying to clear the path as Kevin and Mark had done.
They made it perhaps three meters before Kevin sank forward to his knees, choking. Mark slid from his shoulders, and Alan ran to the two brothers, Angie beside him.
Linley lay face down on the forest floor, unmoving, and Kevin crouched over him, clutching his chest and coughing. Alan bent over them. "Mark! Kevin, are you okay?"
Bronson raised strange, unfocused eyes to his face. "Who the hell told me to read this stupid book in the first place?” he demanded harshly.
"Kevin!" Angela cried.
Mark groaned, eyelids lifting. He rolled to his back and his gaze fastened on Alan's face. He cursed, one hand darting for his blaster. Alan had already removed it from his holster, and Linley swore again as he realized the weapon was gone. "What’ve you done with Alan, you bloody 'trol?" he demanded.
Alan stood up, drawing his blaster and flipping the weapon to stun. If Mark chose to attack him, his partner might easily kill him. Linley was at least a third again Alan's height, and outweighed him by more than fifty kilos.
Kevin was speaking, his eyes still oddly glazed. "If you don't bury this damn book, the dawbats’ll find it," he told Angie seriously.
"Alan!” Angela cried. "He s talking crazy!”
Alan dared not take his eyes from Mark. "Easy, Angie -- at least he's not violent. Maybe he just got enough to make him a little spacey for a few minutes. Here, hold this." He extended the brooch to her, not glancing at her. Mark was glowering at him and cursing under his breath.
Kevin laughed. "That thing's gotta be the ugliest damn ornament I even seen!" He sobered abruptly. "Now, what did I do with that bloody book? The dawbats musta got it! Those critters'll carry away your aircar if you don't watch 'em." He swore fluently. "That's the last time I bring a textbook to the beach!"
Mark glanced at Bronson. "That damn Jil’s crazy," he remarked. He looked back at Alan, his expression growing deadly. "You tell me what you've done with my partner, you...." He favored Alan with an extremely unflattering description of his personal habits. Alan took a step back.
"Easy, Mark," he said.
Linley leaped at him. Alan's blaster hummed and Mark sank to the ground.
Kevin didn't appear to notice. He was looking around, an expression of irritation on his features. "If I don't find that blasted thing, Mom's gonna kill me. What the hell d’you suppose the critters did with it?" He stood up, and his gaze settled on Angie. Alan held the blaster at ready, but Bronson simply grinned foolishly at her, his eyes roving over her body.
"Listen, Kev," Alan said. "Why don't you sit down and take it easy." He came forward, grasping Kevin's arm.
The ex-patrolman moved skillfully, catching Alan's wrist and spinning him around. Before he could blink, his arms were immobilized in an arm lock.
“I’ll teachya to try'n pick m’pocket, ya li'l shrimp!" Kevin applied pressure and Alan yipped.
“Hey! Let me go!"
"Like hell! Gimmie my wallet back!"
"I didn't ...youch! Let me go!"
"Kevin...." It was Angela’s voice from somewhere beyond his range of vision. Kevin's grip on his arms relaxed, and Alan was shoved forward to land heavily on hands and knees. Lifting his head, he saw Kevin and Angela, locked in each other's arms and kissing passionately.
Alan scrambled to his feet, wondering how on earth he was going to deal with two crazy ex-patrolmen until this blasted stuff wore off. Mark was certainly too big for him to carry. Even Angela and he together wouldn't get anywhere.
Kevin was pulling Angela down, his fingers fumbling with the front of her flight suit. Angela resisted weakly and then gave in, and the seal opened beneath Bronson's skilled hands. Alan turned discreetly away, going over to Mark and dropping to one knee beside him.
Quickly he checked his partner's pulse and breathing. Linley was out cold, but he seemed all right -- breathing steady, heartbeat strong and regular. That blasted mist, Alan thought. It was okay when he and Angela had inhaled it, but Mark and Kevin were far too big to be carried. He hoped fervently that Bronson would recover from the stuff quickly. Surely he couldn't have breathed much of it. He'd held his breath, hadn't he?
There were noises behind him, but Alan dared not look around. Angela gave a little half-protesting gasp, and Kevin laughed softly. There was the sound of cloth tearing.
Then abruptly silence. Angela appeared at his elbow, her cheeks bright pink, and sealing her flight suit with trembling fingers. The breast pocket was torn, and one sleeve was half ripped away.
"He’s coming out of it," she whispered.
Alan turned.
Kevin was standing beside a tree, leaning drunkenly against it. One arm covered his eyes, and he groaned.
Alan stood up and went over to him. "Kevin, are you all right?"
Another groan. Alan put a hand on his arm. "Kevin?"
“Uh?” Bronson blinked at him dizzily. "W'appened?”
"Another tulip. You got a whiff of the stuff when you tried to get Mark away from it. How do you feel?"
"Queasy." Kevin began to lower himself carefully to the forest floor, Alan helping him. "Head’s kinda spinning, too. How long was I out?"
"You weren't,” said Alan. "You just talked a little weird for a few minutes.”
Angela hurried to him. "Are you all right?"
He looked at her, eyes widening. "Honey, your flight suit's all torn!"
He saw her blush, and began to grin a little. "Holy hell! Did I do that?"
She smiled, looking under her lashes at him. "It's all right. I didn't mind. You twisted Alan's arm, too, and accused him of picking your pocket."
"I didn’t! Holy space, kid! I'm sorry!"
"It's all right," Alan said.
“How’s M’Lady doin'? You still in contact?"
Alan and Angela nodded simultaneously.
"They're just waiting for word that the money's been delivered before they kill her," said Alan grimly. “We’ve got about five kilometers to go, and Mark's out cold. I had to stun him."
"Oh, hell! I suppose I'd better try’n carry him."
Alan got up and went over to his partner. “Mark, can you hear me?"
Mark grunted, and his arm came up in a wild swing. His balled fist connected just below Alan's eye, and stars burst across his vision. He staggered back, sitting down with a jolt on the soggy ground. Linley came to his feet with a bellow of rage.
A stunbolt hummed again, and Mark sank back to the round. Then Kevin and Angela were leaning over Alan, and Kevin lifted him to his feet.
"You okay, kid?" Bronson inquired anxiously. “Oh, man! You're gonna have a shiner. Hold still." He dabbed below Alan's eye with a tissue. "You're bleedin'.”
"Ouch." Alan flinched back from Kevin's ministrations. "It's okay. Gosh, he sure came to quick after being stunned, didn't he?"
"Probably had somethin' to do with that damned mist. Look, if you're okay, I'm gonna try’n carry him. We can't afford to waste time, an' it'll be dark in another four hours. If we ain't there, by then, we’ll really have problems.”
“All right." Alan shook his head again and bent to pick up the machete. "Gosh. I never realized what it was like to be hit by Mark when he's not pulling his punches.
"You're lucky he only caughtcha a glancin' blow," Kevin said. He bent, bringing his brother to a sitting position, then heaved the limp body to his shoulders. "Uh! He's heavy! Okay, let's go."
Alan swung the machete. The shrubbery was less dense, now, and they moved rapidly. Angela kept pace with him, the Lady's brooch gripped in her hand. They traveled for about twenty minutes before Kevin sank to his knees with a groan. "Hold on, kids," he gasped. "Gotta rest."
Alan helped him ease Mark to the ground. Bronson straightened up with a grunt, rubbing his shoulders. "Hell!" he commented. "I itch all over, an' I'm drippin' wet. I hope her Ladyship don't object too much if we ain't smellin' like lilies when we rescue her."
Alan bent over Mark, taking his hands firmly to preclude another attack.
"Mark, can you hear me?"
No response. Kevin grunted. "He won't be wakin' up for another thirty, maybe forty minutes. Then he'll drift off again if he follows the same pattern you and Angie did."
"Angie and I weren't stunned," Alan said worriedly. He looked down at his partner again. "I'm scared. I sure hope he's going to be okay."
"He'll be fine." Kevin stood up and stretched his arms, muscles popping. "Guess we'd better push on before those so-and-so's decide to kill her Ladyship and take off." He took a swig from his canteen and replaced it on his belt. "C'mon, kids."
They traveled another thirty minutes before Mark started to show signs of awakening. As he stirred, Kevin paused again and let him slide to the ground. Alan knelt beside him, lifting his shoulders. “Mark? Wake up."
Linley's eyes opened, brightly blue in the shadows. "Hi, kid," he muttered.
Alan felt a wash of relief. “Hi Mark. How do you feel?"
"All right." Mark blinked at him. “I thought the Jils had me." His voice was less slurred than Angela's had been upon awakening. "Don't tell me I kicked a damn tulip, too?"
"Yes you did," Alan said. "Kevin's been carrying you."
"Hmmm. Thanks, baby brother." Mark pushed himself to his elbows. Alan put firm hands on his shoulders.
"Take it easy, Mark. Aren't you sleepy?"
"Sorta, but it ain't too bad. Is this the first time I've come to since the stuff got me?"
"I had to stun you once. You woke from the stunbolt and attacked again."
Mark sat up. "Well, I sure don't feel too bad. Guess 'cause I'm bigger'n you -- takes more o' the stuff to affect me...holy hell! You got shiner like I've never seen! How'd that happen?"
Kevin grinned. "You did it, big brother."
Mark looked horrified. “Holy hell! Kid, I'm sorry. Did I hurtcha too bad?"
"It's okay, Mark," Alan assured him. "It looks worse than it is."
"I cutcha too. Dammit!"
"I'm all right," Alan said. "Actually I was pretty lucky. You just barely clipped me. You thought I was a 'trol." He handed Linley his canteen. "Here, have a drink. We have to go. Kevin and Angie can help you. I’ll take the machete."
"You've been handling that damned toad-sticker? How come you ain't cutcher leg off?"
Alan made a face. "Oh for Pete’s sake, I'm doing all right. I'm not exactly incompetent." He got to his feet. "I've gotten you out of a few messes, myself, you know."
Mark stood up carefully. "Kev, you take the machete. Kaley'd have your hide if he knew you'd been lettin' Alan swing that thing."
Bronson grinned. "Sorry, boss. There wasn't nobody but me to carry you, and that left Alan or Angie to handle the machete. Give him some credit, willya? He don't scare 'trols half to death because of his looks, you know." He glanced at the psychics. "How much farther, kids?”
"Not much," Alan replied. "Another kilometer -- maybe two." He handed the machete to Bronson and raised an eyebrow at his partner. "Here, Kev. You can probably use this thing a bit faster than I can, and we need to hurry."
Linley had the grace to look contrite. "Sorry. I get a bit overprotective, I guess. Don't look so worried. You should'a seen what you looked like after you got a whiff o’ that stuff.”
Alan gave a gasp, and Angela inhaled sharply.
"What'sa matter?" Kevin demanded, the machete poised to swing.
"The Lady. Oh no; here we go again!" Alan flinched involuntarily, feeling the ghost hand strike him across the face. Angie gasped, her right hand going to her face,
"Loosen contact, Angie," he commanded.
"What's wrong?" Mark demanded.
"They're hitting her again," Angela said grimly.
"Holy...what did she do this time?"
"Nothing, really,” Alan said. He felt a surge of anger as the hand connected again, and the lady's cry rang through his brain. "They're just getting nervous waiting, I think. Taking out a few frustrations ...ouch!"
"Damn!" Kevin forged ahead, swinging the machete desperately. Alan followed, one hand on Linley's arm. Linley's legs were unsteady, he noticed, in spite of Mark's denial of any weakness.
"We're close," Angela panted. "Just a few meters now."
Alan flinched at another blow, then glanced up at Linley. "Keep your shields up. Mark. You too, Kevin. She knows she'd better not try to read you, but if you're not shielded, it's sometimes hard *not* to read you."
"Yeah I know." Mark scowled. "How’s she doin’?"
"Bad." Alan bit his lip. "They've stopped for the moment, but it's not over. Doggone it! Poor Lady -- I feel sorry for her."
"That's 'cause you're a damn empath, kid. I don't feel sorry for her at all. She wasn't a bit sympathetic when we were scheduled for the chair, and you can bet on it."
The vegetation was thinning, and Alan came to a sudden stop, grabbing Kevin by the belt. "Wait!" he commanded.
They stood still, and Alan felt them all looking at him. Uneasiness tingled on his skin.
"Kid, what 's wrong?" demanded Mark.
"I...I don't know...I'm getting a warning.”
“Aren't we nearly there?"
“Just about ten meters ahead."
Beneath their feet the ground jolted violently. Above them the trees began to sway crazily back and forth. Alan staggered, falling to hands and knees as the earth heaved and shook in the throes of a tremendous quake.
Somewhere, very nearby, a tree came down with a deafening crash. Kevin swore breathlessly as he staggered forward, then stumbled back to fall into a tangle of creepers. Angela clung to a tree, both arms wound tightly around the trunk, and Mark crashed to his knees beside Alan. They reached instinctively for each other, and Alan felt Mark push him face down on the ground. His partner's large body fell across his, protecting him as leaves and branches rained thickly all around them.
The quake must have lasted at least two minutes, but it seemed much longer. At last the convulsions slowed, then stopped, and there was a moment of complete stillness as the jungle held its breath.
No insects hummed, and no animal sounds could be heard in the eerie silence. Vaguely, across his link with the Lady, Alan could hear her screams of panic.
"Man!" Mark's voice was an awed whisper as he straightened up. "Shallock used to have some quakes, but they was like bein' bounced on Grandpa’s knee compared to that! You okay, kid?"
Alan nodded, straightening up slowly. Carefully, he got to his feet, discovering that his knees felt very weak. Mark stood up, too, extending a hand to help his brother from the brambles. Angela still clung to the tree, eyes tightly closed.
Alan bent to touch her shoulder. "Angie? It's all over. You can get up."
Her eyes opened. “My goodness," she said faintly.
Alan gently unwound her arms from the tree, then glanced over at Bronson. ”You okay, Kevin?"
Mark's brother grunted, extracting, a thorn from his thigh. "Hell, no. I ain't gonna be okay until we're off this damned world once and for all. Let's go rescue our Lady fair, and get it over with. I wanna get the hell outta here."
Again they moved quietly forward, and the underbrush became steadily thinner. The uneasiness Alan had sensed earlier was intensifying, instead of diminishing with the cessation of the earthquake. What could be causing the feeling, he could not imagine, but the threat was undeniably there -- a dark cloud in the air around them. The sensation was frightening.
The trees ended and before them he saw a cleared space, no more than twenty meters in diameter. In the center of the clearing was a small, compact, low roofed building with a single door and window. The pseudo Luna moths were thick on the screen covering the window, and before the little building stood an aircar.
Terror jolted from the Lady's mind, directly into his. "Terran!" Her frightened voice seemed to ring through his whole body. "They have received word! They are grinning at me, and drawing their blasters!" Her voice screamed through him. "Help me! Help me!"
Without thinking, Alan lunged forward.
Linley's hand shot out, but Alan was already beyond his reach. He dashed across the clearing as a scream sounded from the little building ahead, succeeded a moment later by the thin spitting of a blaster set on needle beam. Alan felt the sear on his own cheek, like a red hot brand, and the Lady screamed again. Then the door of the building loomed before him, and the image of the lock formed automatically in his mind. It clicked, and the door swung open. Alan leaped through, his blaster leveled before him in both hands. "Freeze!" he snapped.
He had a brief, horrific impression of shaggy, ape like faces turning toward him, white canines gleaming in the dimly lighted room. A hand flashed toward a holster, and Alan's weapon cracked. The Raghiki was flung backward to sprawl in an ungainly heap on the floor. The odor of burned hair filled the room.
Then Mark and Kevin were beside him, their blasters also out. "Get your hands up!" Linley barked, his voice carrying the unmistakable tones of a Viceregal patrolman.
The two remaining Raghiki froze, their round, yellow eyes fixed on the weapons centered on them. Mark glanced sideways at Alan. "See to the Jil. Angie, you guard the door."
With a maddened scream, one of the remaining aliens leaped forward, his long, hairy arms outstretched. Mark’s and Kevin's blasters cracked together and the being sprawled to the floor.
"On Your face!" Mark snapped to the surviving Raghiki. "Alan, go on. She don't look too good."
Alan turned toward the Jilectan. She was crouched in one corner of the small room, sobbing hysterically, her hands bound behind her, and blond, waving hair falling across her face.
A prickle of precognition coursed over Alan again, and he spun. Angela apparently sensed something as well, for she turned from the door, her eyes widening. "Kevin --” she began.
The floor lurched abruptly, sending Mark and Kevin staggering to one side. Alan was thrown off balance, and half fell backward, stumbled over the Jilectan, and sat down hard beside her. Angela also went to a sitting position on the floor, teeth corning together with a sharp click.
But Raghiki were heavily and broadly built, and, as a result, were amazingly sure footed, with a much firmer base of balance than a Terran. The alien moved, lurching for the door, hi s bare feet thunking solidly on the floor of the building. Mark cursed and fired.
The Raghiki went past Angela and gained the doorway. Angela's blaster came up, and she fired. The alien voiced an anguished wailing screech, but didn’t pause. He went through the doorway while the ground still rocked and swayed in the quake's convulsions.
Angela made it to all fours and scrambled after him, her weapon still clutched in one hand. The blaster cracked again, and once more there was a pained scream. Then a door slammed, and Alan heard the aircar’s motor roar to life.
Mark regained his feet and stumbled crookedly toward the door. Alan heard his blaster crack again, and a breathless curse.
Slowly the shaking ceased. Alan got to his knees, then to his feet, and staggered toward the door.
“He got away." Mark was looking disgustedly after the departing aircar. “What a helluva time for a damn aftershock to hit!"
"Wasn't he hurt?" Alan inquired. "I heard him yell, twice."
"I got him." Angela stood up, shaking her hair back from her face. "And I’m pretty sure I hit him the second time, too. It didn't even seem to slow him down.”
Kevin appeared through the door and slipped an arm around her shoulders. "Raghiki are tough," He said slowly. "They can keep goin' even when badly hurt. When I was in the Patrol, my squad was sent to catch one. I dunno what his crime was, but I really don't think it was anything he was gonna be killed for. Well, we got him, all right, but he fought like the Devil Incarnate. Then we marched him back to the aircar, with him howling curses at us the whole way, an’ still fightin' those restrainers like a demon. He collapsed once we got him in, and died about ten minutes later while we were still en route to the station. They don't react much to pain. This guy might be hurt a lot worse'n he seemed."
“Listen, we'd better get goin’,” Mark said. "He might bring back reinforcements.”
Alan turned and went back into the building, followed by Angie. The two psychics went over to the Lady, while Kevin and Mark strode to the communications panel on one side of the room.
It was a small hut, consisting of a single room. In the middle were a table and chairs, littered with scraps of food, playing cards, and the Raghiki's equivalent of dice. The Lady was on the floor, kneeling, her head drooping forward. Blond hair spilled over her face, concealing her features, and she was still sobbing softly. Alan went to one knee beside her and ventured to touch her wrist.
"Your Highness? It’s all right now. You're safe."
Slowly her face came up. She looked dazed, her lovely violet eyes glassy with shock. There was a thin blaster burn on one smooth cheek, and her lips were cut in three places. One eye was blackened, and dried blood smeared her face, mingling with perspiration.
Angela bent over her, canteen out. "Here, Your Highness, have some water."
The lady gulped eagerly from the container as Angela held it to her lips. Gradually the stunned look began to depart, and her eyes focused on Alan’s face. She drew in her breath sharply.
Alan drew out the emergency kit, flipping it open. "It's all right, your Highness," he repeated. "We aren't going to hurt you."
Her gaze went to Angela's face, then back to Alan's. She didn't speak as he began dabbing antiseptic on the cuts, wiping the blood away. Angela removed a cake of concentrated rations from her pack and held it to the Jilectan's lips. She took a bite and chewed daintily. Mark turned from the communications board.
"I'm not picking up any transmission,” he said. "Do you know if these three had any confederates on the planet, M'Lady."
The Jilectan swallowed and jerked her head slightly. "None. I read them all.”
"Good." Mark turned back to the hoard. "I wonder what that guy' s gonna do now. He’ll probably head for his ship, but it ain't like a Raghiki to take a beatin' like that without tryin' to fight back -- specially since he knows we ain't got no transportation.”
"He's hurt, remember," Alan said. He was feeling more uneasy than ever. "Look, I'm getting a very bad feeling. I think we should go."
"I'm with you, kid. Can the Lady travel?”
Alan turned back to her, tugging at the ropes around her ankles. “Do you think you can walk, Your Highness?” he inquired.
She favored him with a frosty stare. "Of course I can walk! Release my hands at once, and give me more water."
Mark scowled at her. "Watch it, M'lady!" he snapped. "You're still a prisoner -- and an enemy, and don't forget it. We ain't untyin' your hands." He glanced at Alan. "Evidently that guy didn’t have any weaponry in the car, or he’d’a done somethin' already. But he's probably got some on his ship -- if he makes it that far. And if he does, he'll come back and bomb us. Let's go."
Angela was giving the Lady another drink. Alan stood up, the feeling of unease growing rapidly stronger. It was a premonition, he knew, of impending danger. It was imperative that they leave immediately.
Kevin swore suddenly and explosively. “What the hell?" He turned a dial and pressed a button. "That damned ape's sendin' a hyperspace message...”
A harsh voice spoke from the unit. "This is M.L!" it barked. "Terran Underground calling from Tovala. Lady Travinthzill has escaped. Need immediate assistance!"
Bronson said a four letter word, staring helplessly into the mechanism. The Lady laughed softly.
"That'll bring the Patrol and the Underground, hotfoot," Mark said angrily. "Damn that damned ape! I should'a figured he'd do somethin' like that!"
"He might he too badly hurt to take us on, himself," Kevin said. "So he figures he'll let the Patrol do it. Damn him! Guess that's where your premonition's comin’ from, kid."
Alan shook his head. "I don't think so," he said. "It's something else."
"Well, it don't matter, anyway," Mark said. "It'll take a good six hours for the Patrol to get here from Kasal, and we ought'a be able to make it back to the ship by then."
Kevin groaned. "Wishful thinkin’ big brother -- with a pregnant Jil on our hands?”
The Lady looked at him scornfully. "Be quiet, Terran!" she snapped. "I am quite able to keep up with you, even pregnant as I am." She came gracefully to her feet, and Mark swore unimaginatively.
They had known, of course, that the Vicerienne was pregnant, but none of them had realized until now how far advanced her condition was. Her belly protruded like an over-inflated balloon, covered by the shimmery folds of her dress. The Lady smiled mockingly at him. "There is no need to fear, Terran," she said. "It is still a week before I am due to have the child."
"Halthzor's kid," Mark said.
The feeling if impending danger was rapidly approaching panic proportion and Angie glanced at Alan, her eyes growing large. "Alan, I'm sensing, danger.”
"Mark, we've got to go now!" Alan took the Lady’s elbow. “Come on, Your Highness. I'll help you."
Angie took her other arm, and they went toward the door. The Lady walked between them, her legs slightly unsteady. She was slightly taller than Mark, Alan saw, but much slimmer, except for her swollen belly. He felt like a child beside her.
Angela cried out as they emerged from the building, and Alan felt the danger envelope him with almost physical force.
"What'sa matter?” Mark demanded, glancing at the two Terran psychics.
Alan let go of the Lady and reached for his partner. Automatically, Mark extended a wrist, and Kevin stepped over beside him to lend his own energy if it was needed. Alan grasped Bronson’s wrist too, and closed his eyes, turning his face toward the east. The sensation of danger was awesome in intensity. Alan flinched uncontrollably beneath its impact, and in his mind's eye he saw the source -- a huge wall of water, far out to sea, but coming nearer at an alarming speed.
It was hard to keep from screaming. Alan let go of his two friends, feeling an instant of weakness as their power flow into him lessened. He cleared his throat.
"It’s a tidal wave." He tried to speak as calmly as possible. "The epicenter of that quake must have been out to sea somewhere. It's coming toward us very fast."
Mark cussed, looking frantically around. He pointed north. "There's high ground over there." He started toward it, grasping the Lady by the upper arm. "Can we make it?"
"I don't know.” Alan's throat was tight as he took the Jilectan's other arm. Kevin went ahead, chopping frantically with the machete.
The Lady glanced sideways at Alan as they hurried along. "Your power level increased when you touched them, Terran.” Her voice was faintly puzzled. "How did you do that?"
"None of your business,” Mark said disrespectfully. “Move it."
Her eyes swept him, colder than a glacier. "If you would release my hands, Terran, I could move faster."
"Nothin' doin’,” Mark said. He looked at Alan. "Is she behavin' herself, kid?" I ain't feelin' any probes, but these Jils are clever. You never know what they'll come up with next."
"She's behaving," Angela said from behind him. "I'm scanning her constantly.
Mark glanced back at her and grinned. "Good girl."
The wave was becoming clearer in Alan's mind. He saw Mark’s gaze turn toward him, and caught his partner's meaningful expression. "Gettin' sorta scared?" he asked quietly,
Alan nodded. So he was linked with his partner again -- the same link which only became conscious when Alan was very afraid, or under great stress.
*I don't think we're going to make it.* He thought the words, relying on their link to transmit them. Linley's face hardened and he increased his speed, half dragging the prisoner along.
The Jilectan glanced down at Alan, her face disdainful. “Release me, Terran! I can go faster alone."
Alan obeyed, and Mark gave her a push forward. "All. right, Your Highness," he snapped, "you’re on your own."
The Lady was right -- Alan was forced to admit it. Pregnant as she was, injured, starved and mistreated as she had been, still she strode up the slope faster and far more gracefully than the exhausted Terrans. It was hard for Alan to keep up with her, and she frequently had to pause, waiting for Kevin to clear the path with the machete.
The wave was much nearer. Alan couldn’t restrain a glance over his shoulder, but found he still could see nothing except underbrush. The ground was rising gradually, but they still had a long way to go.
The Lady glanced at Alan, raising a disdainful eyebrow. “Terran psychic," she said scornfully, "are you sure there is any danger?"
He nodded. "Positive, M'Lady."
"Better trust him, M'lady," Mark said shortly. "He's a clairvoyant, an' a precog -- an' a good one."
The Lady looked Alan over with faint disdain. "It is difficult to believe of one so puny," she remarked.
Alan could sense his partner bristling. He spoke quickly to cut off the argument. "Not now, Mark. Hurry!"
The ground was becoming steeper, the shrubbery less dense. They began to run, crashing recklessly through shrubbery and thorny creepers. Something caught Alan by the hair and he wrenched himself free in sheer desperation.
There was sudden wild laughter from above, and one of the large birdlike creatures that they had encountered earlier dove from the branches above straight toward Lady Travinthzill's blond head, She gave a startled cry as the thing tore a lock of hair free and swooped upward again. Instinctively, Alan jerked up his blaster and the weapon cracked. The creature voiced a wild squawk of protest as it vanished into the leaves once more.
"Told you they like blondes," Kevin gasped.
"What was it?” the Lady asked. She, too, sounded a little breathless.
"Native," Mark said shortly. "They like us blondes. They ain't bothered Angie and Alan a bit."
"Oh.” The Jilectan glanced at Alan, started to speak, and apparently changed her mind. They ran on. The hill grew steeper until they were panting, nearly exhausted. The sun was sinking lower, partially concealed now by clouds on the horizon, but the air remained hot. The pseudo Luna moths swarmed eagerly around them, but Alan scarcely noticed. The hair was lifting on his neck, and around them the jungle had fallen eerily silent, except for the whine of the moths. No birds called, and the leaves no longer rustled with the passage of woodland creatures. All animal life had fled before the impending disaster.
"It's coming!" Angie gasped.
Above them was the summit, perhaps half a kilometer away. Alan glanced back. He could see the ocean now. It looked calm and placid, its surface glowing pink and mauve in the light of the setting sun, but far away, barely visible on the horizon, was what appeared to be a long, thin ripple.
Mark glanced back and swore. With two long bounds he was beside Alan. One mighty arm clamped about him and lifted him from the ground. With a sudden burst of energy, Linley dashed up the slope, Alan over one broad shoulder. Alan saw even the big form of the Jilectan fall back as Mark ran, his incredible strength and endurance carrying them both higher and farther than the rest of their party.
Mark's first instinct, of course, was to protect Alan from danger. Psychic partners were like that, and Alan knew that Linley, by far the stronger of the two, was now making a last, desperate attempt to save him from death.
Vaguely he was aware that Kevin had done the same, tossing Angela to one shoulder. The Lady cried out and then screamed. Alan lifted his head.
The ocean was drawing back, and the wave was now easily visible -- a towering wall of water against the pale sky. The Lady glanced back and screamed again.
She was ignored. Kevin and Mark, carrying their two, smaller companions, dashed frantically up the slope. They passed a jutting pinnacle of rock, and Alan glanced toward it, wondering for an instant if they should try to reach it. He rejected the thought at once. The rock was almost as far away as the summit, and the point was much too small for them all to take refuge there.
Behind them was a roaring sound, and an ominous snapping and cracking of limbs. The Lady screamed a third time, and Angie echoed her.
Water swept over them, throwing Mark forward and tearing Alan from his grasp. He was whirled sideways by the force of the current, then swept upward like a twig in a stream. His eyes and mouth were full of water, but he groped desperately, trying to locate Mark once again. His hands closed in thick, curling hair, and he clutched it, twisting his fingers in the strands as the waves battered him, hurling him this way and that.
He was dizzy and aching, only half conscious, when he felt his feet touch solid ground. The surging water swept his legs from under him, hurling him to one side. A heavy body landed on him, thrusting him beneath the water once more. Something hit him solidly on the back of the neck, and stars burst before his eyes. Blackness closed down.
**********
tbc
