Empath: 4/?
by Linda Garrick and Nancy Smith
Someone was screaming thinly and hysterically. Alan heard the sound from very far away. He tried to open his eyes, but his eyelids refused to obey the command of his brain.
His head throbbed sickeningly.
Gradually he became aware that he was soaking wet, and lying in a crumpled heap on drenched vegetation. His eyes burned, his mouth tasted of salt, and his body ached as though someone had beaten him with a sledgehammer.
The screaming continued, growing louder and more hysterical. Alan tried again, and this time succeeded in raising his eyelids. He stared blearily around.
He was on his stomach, his arms straight above him, his fingers still entwined in the thick curly hair he had grasped while in the water moments after the wave had struck. Alan blinked, trying to clear his vision.
Blond, long hair, the head very close to him. It was Lady Travinthzill.
Carefully, Alan disentangled his fingers and tried to sit up. The Jilectan didn't move, and the screaming continued. With great effort, Alan heaved himself to his elbows, then got his knees under him. He looked around.
He was lying on the summit of the hill they had been climbing when the wave had struck. The wave must, he thought, have been largely spent by the time it had roared through the Tovalan jungle and reached this spot, or he and his companions would certainly have been killed. Even so, he was amazed to be alive. The sky was darkening with the approach of evening, and the horizon to the east glowed faintly, foretelling the rise of Tovala's moon. All around him were torn, broken trees, scattered rocks and debris. Beside him was huddled the form of the Jilectan Lady, unmoving, her lovely golden hair wildly tangled and snarled with twigs. She continued to scream.
Alan felt a jolt of terror as he realized that, except for the Lady, none of his companions were anywhere in sight.
"Mark!" He got awkwardly to his knees, gazing frantically around. "Mark! Kevin! Angie, where are you?" Clumsily he detached the communicator from his belt and pressed the transmit control. "Mark? Kevin, come in."
The unit remained silent. Alan pressed the control again, fighting back panic. "Mark! Mark! "
No response. Forcing himself to think calmly, Alan closed his eyes, running his fingers over the little device, and reaching with clairvoyance. Yes, the inner workings were damaged, and quite beyond his ability to repair under present circumstances. Slowly, Alan replaced the communicator on his belt, trying to consider his next action.
Angie, of course. He must try to contact his cousin telepathically. Alan closed his eyes again and reached out with his mind. "Angie." He spoke her name aloud. "Angie, do you hear me?"
Nothing. Alan felt panic gather in his throat. Were all his companions dead? Were he and Lady Travinthzill the only survivors after the terrible wave?
She was still screaming. Alan glanced at her distractedly. She seemed the most unimportant of his problems at the moment. Mark, his partner, was missing. Somehow, Alan must find him. Where to look first? This was a large piece of ground. Linley might have been washed up anywhere, but that didn’t matter. Alan intended to find him. He stood up, reaching for the hand light on his belt.
The light was gone. He had been carrying it when the wave had hit. That meant searching by the dim light of the stars through jungle growth. He didn't care. He had to find Mark! He might be hurt and unable to answer Alan's call.
The Lady continued to scream. Alan bent over her, placing firm hands on her shoulders. “M’Lady? M’Lady, are you all right?” He knelt beside her, turning her over with difficulty. Her eyes flickered, then opened. She screamed again, the sound lifting the hairs on his neck. "Please, M’Lady, don't do that." He brushed the drenched curls back from her face. Her lip was bleeding again, one of the cuts inflicted by the Raghiki apparently re-opened during the flood. Gently he wiped away the blood with his soaked handkerchief. “M’Lady, do you see me? Please stop screaming now. You're safe."
The screams ceased abruptly, and she began to cough, Alan slipped a hand behind her, helping her sit up. "Are you hurt, M’Lady?" He detached the canteen from his belt and held it to her lips.
She drank eagerly, then turned her face away, blinking at her surroundings. Alan refastened the container to his belt and stood up. "Your Highness, I must go look for my friends."
Her eyes turned on him. "You are going to leave me here, bound, and unable to defend myself, Terran?"
"No," he replied, feeling again that prick of irritation. "You're coming with me, Your Highness." He bent down, grasping her arm. "Come on. I'll help you.”
Her eyes glinted faintly. "Is that an order, Terran?"
Alan compressed his lips. "M’Lady, let me make something clear. Mark is my partner, and nothing is so important to me as he is. I don't want you hurt, but if you won't come with me peaceably, then I will leave you. If a wild animal finds you, then it's your fault, I'm afraid. I must go look for my partner."
She stood up, "I see," she said coldly.
He took her arm and started through the soaked shrubbery.
It was very dark beneath the trees. Alan walked slowly, blaster in hand, and stopping every few moments to call for his friends, but receiving no reply. Half an hour went by, and the Lady began to stumble. He sensed fear in her, but was too occupied at the moment to notice. He called again, reaching out telepathically, and trying to sense his friends. Nothing -- no slightest quiver of their presence nearby. It was true, then. He was alone on the hill, which had now become an island. His friends were gone -- probably dead. Mark...his best friend. Alan fought back a sob.
The Jilectan lady gave a faint cry and doubled over. Alan paused, glancing at her. She had fallen to her knees on the ground, her violet eyes wide with fright, and brimming with tears. Alan bent over her.
"Your Highness? What's wrong?” He felt his breath catch in his throat. “Oh, my God!" He reached for the emergency kit in his pack.
The pack was gone.
For a moment he simply refused to believe it. He felt between his shoulders, then down his back, thinking, perhaps, that it had slipped.
It was no use. The pack was gone, and with it all his supplies, food and blankets. All that remained to him was the useless communicator, his canteen, and his blaster.
The lady stopped whimpering and straightened up, blinking back the tears. Her eyes met Alan's, and suspicion became certainty. He swallowed convulsively.
"You're in labor, M'Lady,” he said.
She didn't reply for a long moment. Then, at last, she inclined her head in the Jilectan equivalent of a nod. "Yes, Alan Westover," she said. "I am in labor."
V
Kevin Bronson surfaced, gasping for breath, and pulled Angela's head above the water. She was limp, and Kevin, himself, was at the end of his strength, flailing out weakly with his free arm. His fingers touched something solid and prickly, which scraped the skin from his knuckles. He grasped for the thing blindly, and his hand closed around the limb of a tree.
It was half submerged, and for a moment he merely clung there, resting, and letting the roaring in his head subside. Something cold and smooth brushed his leg beneath the water's surface, bringing him sharply back to reality. He scrambled upward, heaving Angela with him, one handed. The thing brushed his ankle as it left the water, and behind him he heard the clash of jaws.
He found himself straddling a thick branch, less than a meter above the water's surface, and Angela was limp across his lap. The tree must be pretty big, he thought, for he couldn't see the top, or any sky between the branches over him. Its lower branches were submerged in water, and all around him were leaves and rough prickly limbs. Clusters of red, grape-like berries hung from the branch beside him.
He looked down at the surging water, still gasping a little. He had only the vaguest recollection of how he had arrived here, but somehow he had survived the raging wave, and carried Angie with him. How far had he been carried by the current? Could Alan and Mark still be alive?
He tried to think back, reassembling his thoughts. Mark had been ahead of him during the final moments before the wave had struck, and he had been carrying Alan. If they had managed to remain together, perhaps Alan might have had a chance. But alone, and with those things in the water, he would surely have perished.
Kevin lifted Angie higher clamping his arm around her. She was breathing, as he had already determined, but her eyes were closed, and a reddened lump adorned her forehead just above the right eyebrow. Carefully he probed her skull, feeling for more lumps, or the softness of crushed bone. Almost at once he located second lump on top of her head, then a third right behind her ear. Poor kid! She'd really taken a beating from that blasted tidal wave.
"Angie?" He touched her face gently, then fumbled for her wrist, searching for a pulse. It was light and fast beneath his fingers, but her breathing was slow and steady. Quickly he checked her eyes. Pupils equal and responding, to the beam of his hand light. A good sign.
The lump above her eye was still swelling and darkening in hue. Kevin loosened the neck of her torn flight suit. "Angie? Honey, can you hear me?"
No response.
"Angie, please, for the luvamike....” He stopped, a strong, very familiar sensation creeping over him. Alan's face materialized before his eyes. His link with his other psychic partner closed.
"Mark!" He heard Alan shout so clearly that it seemed the young man must be in the same tree with him. "Mark! Kevin! Angie, where are you?”
"Kid!" Kevin bellowed. "I’m stuck in a tree. Where the hell are you?”
Alan's voice in his mind continued to shout for Mark, then once again for him and Angie. Bronson knew now that Alan wasn't in the tree or anywhere near. The link that he held with Alan was simply functioning to perfection -- as usual. Kevin unfastened the communicator from his belt, pressing the transmit control. "Alan? Come in, kid."
No reply came from the unit. Alan's voice in his mind shouted once again for Mark. A moment later, in a strangely calm voice, Bronson heard him calling for Angela and knew he was trying to contact her telepathically. He shook her gently. "Angie! Honey, you gotta wake up. Alan's tryin' to call you. Wake up!"
She didn't stir. Kevin cursed under his breath and tapped the control on his communicator again. "Alan! Come in, dammit!"
A faint hum answered showing that the unit was operating but aside from that, nothing. Alan's voice in his mind ceased to call, although the link remained. He was still scared, though. Kevin swore again, adjusting the control on the unit. "Alan? Mark? Is anybody readin' me?"
Something broke the water below the branch. Kevin glanced down, then jerked his feet up as fanged jaws appeared, opening invitingly.
“Holy hell!" Kevin replaced the communicator on his belt, still holding Angela with one hand. The head of the creature emerged from the water, and Bronson caught a glimpse of a scaled, elongated face, round, blank eyes, and long, whipping tentacles. Yanking his blaster from his holster, he fired.
Water exploded into steam beneath him, and a cloud of mist billowed up around him. The water creature gave a low, bubbling moan, and vanished beneath the surface once more.
"Man!" Kevin slowly replaced the weapon in the holster. "If this crazy world's got any virtues, I ain't found 'em yet." He spoke aloud, trying to re-summon his courage. It was getting dark, and the pale green moth-like creatures were swarming thickly around the two bedraggled refugees. Carefully, he began to fumble in his pack, searching for the repellent. Something else broke the water beneath them, and a long, thin tentacle whipped upward, looping tightly around the branch upon which they had taken refuge. Kevin cursed and yanked out his blaster again, flipping it to needle beam as he did so. He fired. The tentacle detached itself with haste and vanished back into the darkening waters. The low, gurgling noise came again.
A moth settled on the back of his neck, and Kevin felt its biting sting. He slapped savagely at it, clipping himself with the butt of the blaster as he did so. Swearing wearily, he holstered the weapon, and at last located the repellent in his pack.
Another pair of jaws broke the surface beneath him. Kevin sprayed himself and Angela, keeping a wary eye below as he did so. He and Angie were trapped here until the flood receded, that was for sure, and there wasn’t a single thing he could do about it. Alan's link with him remained, although not as painfully tight as it had been at first. He must be fairly safe, at least for the present. Probably the link to him now was caused by fear for his friends, not for himself.
"M’Lady?" Kevin heard the spoken word clearly. So Alan and the Jil must be together – wherever they were. Alan was speaking to her in the calming, gentle way of which only Alan was capable. Empath, Kevin thought. The talent even operated where a Jil was concerned. Bronson grinned faintly. If anyone could handle a Lady, it was Alan.
A growl jerked him sharply back to the present, and his head snapped up as a creature dropped through the leaves to land gracefully on the limb beside him, barely three meters away.
Kevin jerked out his blaster. So, he wasn't the only one who had taken refuge in this tree --
The thing was large, probably massing close to Kevin's own weight, and vaguely catlike in appearance. It was covered with short, reddish brown fur, and two long, mobile ears twitched as the thing regarded him appraisingly. Then the jaws split in a terrifyingly human grin, and the creature advanced a cautious step.
Kevin fired. With a scream of pain the thing was flung backward off the branch. As it struck the water, fanged jaws opened to receive it.
Kevin had once been a subcommander in the Viceregal Patrol. Viceregal patrolmen were renowned for their lack of nerves, but still Bronson felt the hair on the back of his neck prickle as the water beast dragged the creature under. Again came the deep, gurgling sound.
Kevin took a deep breath and looked deliberately away. He must try to climb further up into the branches and put some distance between himself and those...things.
Lifting Angie carefully to his shoulder, he began to climb. It wasn't easy, for the branches grew closer together and were draped with festoons of brambles and vines. Small, crawling creatures swarmed over the limbs, and he soon discovered that the things were not shy about using their stings if a hand was placed on them. Kevin cursed softly. He should have expected it, he supposed, on this God-forsaken planet. Man alive, what a place! Kevin had been on some inhospitable worlds during his lifetime, but this one certainly had to take the prize!
Angie slipped from his shoulder and he had to grab her. His foot skidded on rotting moss and there was a pop, then a sudden puff of white vapor.
Kevin felt his heart lunge as he gulped a breath of air, scrambling away from the stuff. Angie coughed weakly.
Somehow he managed to avoid the vapor, and arrived safely on another branch, his flight suit torn, knees and elbows scuffed and bleeding. He swore again, breathlessly, as he lowered Angela to the branch and used the belt of his flight suit to bind her firmly to the trunk of the tree. Then he slumped beside her, clinging to another branch, and sighed.
There was nothing he could do but wait until the floodwaters receded. How long would it take? Kevin squinted through the leaves, suddenly aware of something. Perhaps a hundred meters away, a huge rock jutted from the dark water, its top perhaps two meters above the surface. A figure was sprawled face down on top of the rock, and Kevin caught a glimpse of blond hair in the fading light. Mark.
"Hey!" Kevin stood up on the branch, clinging to a limb for balance. "Mark! Mark! Can you hear me? Mark!”
The figure didn't stir. Kevin ground his teeth in frustration. His brother was obviously either badly hurt or already dead, but with those things in water there was absolutely nothing Bronson could do to help.
“Mark!” he bellowed. "Mark!”
No response. Kevin tried the communicator again without result. Swearing, savagely, he returned the device to his belt. That damned Raghiki had summoned the Patrol. How long before they arrived? He glanced at his chronometer. It had been approximately ninety minutes since the message was sent. The nearest Patrol base was on Kasal -- about six hours away. He hoped desperately there would be no Jilectans there right now. Probably wouldn't, he decided hopefully. It was a small base, and the nearest Jilectans would most likely, be on Riskell -- a good twelve hours away.
But when the Patrol arrived, Mark would be discovered. It was inevitable, in that terribly exposed place. Somehow, Kevin must try to get to his brother before that happened. But how?
**********
tbc
