Empath: 6/?
by Linda Garrick and Nancy Smith
VII
Very slowly the floodwaters were beginning to retreat. Kevin sat still on the limb, his attention on the dim outline of his brother, huddled on the rock a few meters above the waterline. Linley was beginning to stir, and once or twice Kevin had heard him groan, the sound carrying clearly across the still surface. But Mark still wasn't responding to Bronson's desperate shouts, nor to the beeping of the communicator.
Kevin glanced at his chronometer. Six hours. Undoubtedly the Patrol was here by now and already searching. It was only a matter of time before they found Mark, and when they did a search would be made of all nearby trees and high ground. Kevin's lips tightened. He still had his blaster. If worst came to worst, he would see that he and Angie weren't taken alive.
Kevin settled back against the trunk of the tree, his gaze moving to a large, shapeless growth apparently attached to the same limb upon which he was seated. A parasite, no doubt, and ugly as all hell -- blotched green, and brown, and covered with lumps. Funny that he hadn't noticed it earlier....
Angie moaned softly, and he turned toward her. “Angie? Honey, can you hear me?”
She didn't respond. Kevin lifted her wrist again, feeling for her pulse. Slow and regular. He wished desperately that she would come out of it soon. At least then he would be able to contact Alan and explain the situation. Alan was pretty occupied, he knew. Their link had been forming and fading at intervals for the past few hours. That damned Jil had chosen this moment to go into labor. Of all times --
Kevin just hoped Alan wouldn't fall apart when it came down to the actual birth. Bronson had implicit faith in Alan, but he was sure that Alan had never delivered a baby before -- and Lady Travinthzill was Halthzor's chief wife.
He found himself staring at the parasitic growth on the limb again. Were his eyes playing tricks on him? Kevin blinked, then frowned in puzzlement. Wasn't the damned thing closer now than it had been a moment ago?
He watched it uneasily, feeling a little silly, yet unable to shake off the discomfort. Well, it sure as hell wasn't moving now. Kevin wet his lips and looked deliberately away from the thing. He was getting paranoid, he told himself -- not surprising on this crazy planet.
Fright shot through him, and Alan's face materialized before him as their link closed with shocking vividness. He heard Alan shout for Mark, and across the water heard Linley moan softly. Somewhere in the background he heard the sharp crack of a blaster. Then a heavy weight was crushing him, and Kevin had to fight the impulse to push the thing away.
The weight was gone abruptly and the link began to fade, only to return again a moment later, stronger than ever. He heard Alan speaking, his voice clear and distinct.
“What are you going to do?"
Kevin frowned, puzzled. What the devil had happened? The link was tightening, and again he heard Alan's voice. "I won’t care for you at blaster point, M’Lady." A pause. "No. Kill me if you want. I won't stay here with you and be turned over to the Patrol when you have no more use for me."
Holy hell! The damned Jil must've gotten her hot little hands on the blaster. Just great! He'd probably felt sorry for her and untied her.
“No,” Alan's voice said. “Put the blaster down, Your Highness, or I leave right now.”
Kevin grinned savagely. “Good for you!” he shouted. “Stick to your guns!”
"Kill me, then," Alan said. "I won’t be given to the Patrol."
There was a long silence, and the link tightened to almost painful intensity.
"Hang on," Kevin said fiercely. “She don't dare kill you. You're all she's got, and she don't wantcha to leave, neither.”
Tension mounting. The Lady’s voice snapped something in the background. There was another, longer silence.
“Goodbye, Your highness,” Alan's voice said.
Kevin grunted in surprise as the tingle of a stunbolt coursed over him. The link with Alan dissolved as he lost consciousness.
Kevin sat still, cursing savagely at his own helplessness. If there were only something he could do! Anything but sit here like a damned monkey in a damned tree, staring at a damned, big, ugly parasitic growth....
The thing was closer! Kevin sat up straighter, staring at the bulbous, brown green growth in consternation. It appeared firmly attached to the limb -- and yet, this time he was sure it had moved. At least, he thought he was sure!
Feeling rather ridiculous, he drew his blaster, pointing it at the thing.
“C’mon, you,” he muttered. “Move.”
There was a silence. The growth remained motionless, apparently utterly lifeless. Kevin's scalp crawled.
“Angie,” he said weakly. “Please wake up, honey.”
Nothing. A shiver coursed over him and he swallowed convulsively. Well, he had to do something. He couldn't just sit and stare at this thing all night.
Alan's awakening consciousness slowly permeated his mind. Nausea tugged at him, making him gag a little, and he felt the misery of a stunner headache. Damn that damned Jil! If Kevin could ever get his hands on her after this....
Alan was speaking, his voice filled with misery. A hand dragged at his arm, and he felt the Jilectans sharp nails bite into his flesh.
"Throw up on her, kid,” Kevin thought viciously. Teach her a lesson!
The link was fading as Alan's fear and discomfort lessened. Had the kid got the blaster away from her again? Kevin had felt no struggle, but Alan seemed calm again, although still far from comfortable. Maybe the Lady had given in and relinquished the blaster, realizing he wasn't going to help her if she didn't. Kevin grinned to himself. Trust Alan! The kid had more brains than the rest of them put together! He must be half out of his mind about his companions by now, and yet he must also know that, with the Patrol on the way, their one hope lay in maintaining the health and safety of the Vicerienne. This, in spite of all obstacles, Alan was managing to do, and incredibly enough he had also established himself as the master of the situation -- at least for the present.
The growth had moved again. Kevin flipped his blaster to needle beam. Dammit! He was going to end this stupid game for once and for all. If he had to watch that bloody thing sneak any closer, he was going to go nuts.
There was a faint rustle in the leaves overhead and a long, sinuous body draped itself down from the branches directly between him and the parasitic growth. The newcomer resembled a Terran snake, in that it was covered with shining scales, and had no discernable arms or legs. But the head was different. It was perfectly round, with a wide, generous mouth. Two large, fanlike ears, or fins, or something, Kevin thought, protruded from it. Eyes glowed redly in the darkness and the mouth opened slightly, revealing needle teeth.
Behind the creature, the growth that Kevin had been observing warily for the last thirty minutes came abruptly to life. A wide, red mouth appeared in the mottled green-brown surface, and a long tongue shot out to loop tightly around the pseudo-snake. There was a squeal, and the creature was dragged inside the mouth, twisting and protesting all the way. Then the mouth closed with a sharp snap, and there was the big, ugly, growth perched on the limb, exactly as before -- innocent and unmoving.
Kevin drew a long breath.
"Well, friend," he said slowly, "I had a hunch there was somethin’ awful funny about you. Listen, I don't wanna use any strong-arm stuff after you did me the favor, but I don't wanna end up like my snake pal either. So you just keep your distance, okay? Any closer and I'll hafta get mean.”
No movement, and no sign of life. Kevin watched the growth covertly, gripping the blaster in one hand.
It moved. Silently the thing oozed forward half a meter on the branch to stop, once again changing into the big, lifeless growth projecting from the branch. Kevin grunted and surveyed it unhappily.
"Listen pal," he said. "You obviously got designs on me an' my li'l friend here. Sorry 'bout this.”
Taking careful aim with the blaster, he fired. There was the soft hiss of a needle beam and the thing scrambled ungracefully backward off the limb. It dropped to the branch below, swiveled beneath it, and was gone into the thick, leafy limbs of the tree. Kevin grinned faintly.
An hour crawled by. Angela groaned suddenly, moving her head from side to side. Kevin reached over, unfastening the belt which secured her to the tree, and lifted her carefully in his arms.
"Easy, honey. Take it slow.”
She moaned softly, lifting a hand to her head. Kevin caught the hand, holding it firmly. "Angie? Can you hear me?”
Her eyelids fluttered. "Kevin?" The word was barely audible.
"Yeah, honey, it's me.”
She smiled faintly. "Dreaming" she whispered. "Jils and 'trols everywhere.”
"There ain't no Jils or 'trols here yet, baby.”
She snuggled against him, eyes closed, her breathing once more becoming deep and even. He held her, wondering if he should try to bring her around a little faster. He didn’t want to rush her -- not with a head injury, and yet, the situation was desperate. He brushed her hair gently back from her face. "Angie, honey. Wake up.”
Her eyes opened, meeting his instantly. "Kevin? What's wrong?”
"We're in trouble. How're you feelin'?”
"My head hurts. What happened?" She glanced around, eyes taking in their surroundings. "We're in a tree!”
"I made it up here with you after the tidal wave hit, baby. We've been here nearly eight hours.”
He saw realization leap into her face. "That Raghiki called the Patrol! They'll be here soon!”
"They're robably already here.”
"What about Alan and Mark?”
"They're alive. Alan's been linkin' with me since I climbed up here -- off and on. He's with the Jil.”
"Oh no! Kevin, we...”
"He's okay. He's got her under control.” Bronson grinned faintly. "Typical Alan. It's Mark who's in trouble. He’s over there." Kevin pointed.
"Oh gosh!” The girl stared, then looked frantically at Kevin. "He's hurt! We've got to go get him!”
“Can't. There's critters in the water -- big, hungry critters, with lotsa teeth. We'd never make it to him, and we ain't gonna do Mark much good if we end up in a sea monster's stomach.”
“But --” Angela turned her head to look at Mark's figure again, easily visible in the bright moonlight. "Kevin, if the Patrol comes looking, they'll see him!”
"I know. Any ideas?" For a moment more she stared at Mark's figure. "Where's Alan? Do you know?”
"Yeah, I know. He's on that hill over there." Kevin nodded to the high ground projecting above the water perhaps half a kilometer away. "But he can't get to Mark either, even if he knew where he was.”
“Haven't you talked to him.”
“His com's broke. I was wonderin’ if you --” Kevin hesitated.
"Oh, yes, of course. I'll call him right now.”
"Maybe you better rest a few minutes more. You got a pretty bad knock on the head..."
She touched her forehead, wincing a little. "I'm okay. It hurts a bit, and I'm sort of dizzy."
“Yeah. I'm sure you got yourself a concussion in that wave. Rest a little while first.”
"No, I'll call him -- let him know we're okay. He must be half out of his mind, not knowing what's happened." She relaxed in Kevin's arms, closing her eyes. An aircar hummed overhead.
VIII
"Angela!" Alan shouted her name aloud before he realized there could be search parties nearby. The Lady's startled eyes turned toward him.
“The psychic girl!” she cried.
“Angie!” Alan sent the words toward her. “Where are you?”
"Kevin and I are stranded in a tree." The words came clearly to him. "We can't get down. There are creatures in the water.”
"Is Mark with you?" Alan hardly dared ask, and held his breath, waiting for the reply.
"No," came Angela's reply. “But we can see him from where we are. He's alive, but he's hurt. He's on that big rock we passed just before the wave hit."
Alan felt a wash of relief, just knowing his partner was still alive. "I'm on the high ground, Angie. I'll be right there..." He started to stand up.
A large, deceptively slim hand shot out, catching him by the wrist. "No, Alan," said Lady Travinthzill. “You will stay with me." She bit her lip as a contraction started, and her grip on his wrist tightened. Alan yipped.
"Let go, your Highness!" He tried unsuccessfully to pull free. "Please! My partner's in trouble. I have to go.”
She gave a muted cry, then began breathing as he had taught her.
"Alan!" Angie's voice cried in his mind. "There's an aircar circling. I think they've spotted Mark!”
Sheer desperation gave Alan the strength he needed. Somehow he twisted free of her grasp and scrambled away, rolling to his feet.
"No, Alan!" the Lady snapped. "I order you to remain with me!”
Alan started for the water, then paused, thinking. What could he do to aid Mark, even if he did get within sight of the big man. Nothing. Wouldn't it be better to remain here with the Lady and be sure she came to no harm? As long as she was his prisoner, he would be able to bargain for Linley’s release.
"Alan!" the Lady cried. "Don’t leave me! Come back!”
He hesitated, torn by an unbearable decision. "Your Highness, I don't want to leave but my partner's in trouble!"
"No, Alan! Don't leave. The baby's coming soon! I can feel it. Please!”
“M'Lady...what about Mark? The Patrol’s taking him...”
"Alan!" She reached for him frantically. "Don't go. I'll die if you leave me, and so will my baby! Please stay with me! I'll do anything you like. I'll get you a pardon from the Viceroy!”
Alan could scarcely believe his ears. "Your Highness, don't be silly! What about Mark?”
"I'll get him a pardon, too!”
In spite of the desperate situation, Alan almost laughed. "Your Highness, that's ridiculous. Halthzor won't pardon me...or Mark."
“He will! I will ask him, myself! Don't worry! Mark will be released unharmed. I promise, Alan.”
He hesitated again. There was nothing he could do to help Mark right now, but the knowledge that his partner was in the hands of the Patrol, and with Jilectans arriving soon... Alan shuddered. Mark's one hope now lay in him. Somehow, Alan must deliver this child alive. Then Halthzor would be forced to bargain for his wife, and Mark would be safe.
He returned to the Lady, kneeling beside her.
“It's all right,” he said. “Breathe with the pains, Your Highness. It can't be much longer.”
She grasped his hands. “You won't leave me?”
"No. I won't leave you.”
*Alan.* It was Angela again. *They have Mark in the aircar. It's leaving.*
Alan bit his lip. *Are you safe, Angie?*
*For the present. But there’ll be scouts here soon, looking.*
*I know.* Alan turned back to the Jilectan, feeling a belated incredulity. The Lady had said ‘please’ to him. She had actually pleaded with him -- him, Alan Westover -- a Terran.
History, as Mark had commented, was once again made.
Her hands tightened on his eyes dilating. “It hurts! Alan, the baby's pushing!” She made a small, grunting sound, then screamed wildly. “The baby's coming, Alan! He's coming!”
He caught her in his arms, murmuring words of comfort. Slowly she relaxed. “Alan, it's almost time. I can feel it.”
He nodded, disengaging himself gently from her embrace. “I'm going to take off your underclothes, M’Lady.”
"Yes...of course. I don't care." The Lady pulled up her dress and Alan stripped off the panties, his fingers catching on the sheer, elegant material. "All right, Your Highness, with the next pain, I want you to push down. It'll hurt, but keep pushing. Understand?”
She caught his hands again, dragging him close to her. "Alan, do you know how?”
He nodded, trying to smile reassuringly. "I've been reading up on it, Your Highness. “My wife is expecting a baby in about six months.”
She gripped him tightly. "Don't let anything happen to my baby, Alan.”
"I'll do my best, your Highness. Don’t be afraid.”
"I'm not. Not now." Her arms encircled him in an inexorable grip, dragging him down almost on top of her. She screamed again.
Alan felt the warning at the same instant. Someone was coming! He could feel the approaching, unshielded minds clearly, and sensed emotions – worry -- irritation.
“M’Lady, let me go!” Alan squirmed desperately in her embrace. She didn't release him, but continued to scream like a wounded banshee.
A large, strong hand descended on Alan's shoulder, wrenching him brutally from the Lady's grasp. Clearly in the bright moonlight, he saw the visored face of a Viceregal patrolman. The man yanked him upright, catching Alan's wrists in one strong fist. Another patrolman materialized from nowhere, pulling the blaster from Alan's holster and covering him with it.
"M’Lady! Are you hurt?" The man holding Alan spun him around and backhanded him across the mouth. The blow sent him spinning to the ground, ears ringing.
"Alan!" Dimly through the buzzing in his head, Alan heard her calling him. He pushed himself to his elbows, shaking his head and trying to focus his eyes. A patrolman stood over him, a blaster centered on him, while the other, a sublieutenant, knelt beside the Lady, pulling her dress down.
"Your Highness, did he hurt you? What's wrong'?”
"Alan!" the Lady screamed. She moved too fast for him to follow her movements. There was a resounding crack, and the sublieutenant's body rose a full half meter into the air before slumping limply to the ground. He lay very still.
The other patrolman stared in horror. "Sir!"
"Alan!" the Lady cried. "Come here! Quick! Quick!"
Alan got dizzily to his knees, ears still humming faintly. Something warm ran down his face.
“Quick, Alan!”
Alan looked at the remaining patrolman. The man's blaster still covered him, not wavering, and the mouth beneath the visor was grim. Alan extended a mind probe.
The patrolman was young -- a third classer, just out of boot camp. His surface emotions were confusion, extreme fright -- directed mostly toward Alan, and a good deal of awe and anxiety due to the presence of the Lady. His mind wasn't complex, and one simple fact stood out. Alan Westover, infamous Jil killer, was in his custody. Above all, he must not be allowed to injure the wife of the Viceroy. If necessary, Patrolman Woods would stun or kill him to prevent his approaching her.
"Alan! " the Lady screamed.
“M’Lady, I can't." Alan glanced at her, then back at the patrolman. "If I move, he'll stun me."
The Vicerienne's eyes turned toward the patrolman. “You!” she snapped. “Patrolman Woods!”
The man's visored face turned quickly toward her. "Yes, Your Highness?”
“Give me your blaster!”
The man gulped. “B...beg pardon, Your Highness?”
"Your blaster! Quickly!”
Woods went hesitantly toward her, carefully keeping the muzzle of the weapon on Alan. "But Your Highness,” he began.
The Jilectan seized the blaster and with irresistible strength drew it from the patrolman's hand. "Come here, Alan," she repeated.
Alan took a reluctant step toward her, glancing at the patrolman. He had drawn the other blaster from his belt, and was now covering the psychic with it. “Don't move, Westover,” he said.
The Lady's blaster cracked and the patrolman gave an anguished cry, staggering to one side and falling to his knees. The blaster went flying to vanish into the shrubbery. Lady Travinthzill struggled to a sitting position as the man raised wide, horrified eyes to her face. "M’Lady!" he croaked. "No! Please!”
Carefully the Jilectan lifted the blaster, steadying it in both hands, the muzzle centering on the patrolman.
Alan stumbled forward. “Oh, gosh! Don't kill him, Your Highness!”
She paused, turning her face toward him. "Why not, Alan?”
"Please. He's harmless now. Don't kill him.”
She shrugged, then groaned. “Alan!”
He knelt beside her, removing the blaster from her hand. She surrendered it without protest, and Alan had a quick glimpse of the young patrolman sinking back onto the ground clutching his right shoulder, mouth agape.
Alan swung the blaster toward the man. “Patrolman Woods, take off your helmet and roll it away.”
Clumsily the man complied. The Lady was bearing down, and the top of the baby's head came into view. Alan waited, holding his breath until the pain ended.
She sank back, sobbing hysterically, and he bent over her, brushing back the damp hair from her forehead. “It's almost over, M’Lady. The next one should be the last.”
“It hurts, Alan...Alan! Where are you going?”
“I'm getting the sublieutenant's emergency kit.” Alan dug through the unconscious man's pack, removing the article he sought, then carefully removed the blaster from the officer's holster.
"Hurry, Alan!" the Lady commanded.
"I am." He tucked the weapon into his belt with the other one, and went back to the Lady.
He knelt beside her again, smiling encouragingly, and still a little stunned by her actions concerning the two patrolmen. She took his hands.
"Will I have my baby with the next pain, Alan?”
He nodded. "I think so, Your Highness."
"I'm afraid now."
He squeezed her hands. "You can do it, Your Highness. Terran women do, and you're a Jilectan."
Her smile held no contempt. “You'll help me?"
“Of course.” Alan was beginning to feel uneasy again. Something was wrong.
Was he imagining things, or were the life emanations from the unborn baby weakening?
They were weakening! Alan's breath caught. The heart rate was slowing!
"Here it comes!" the Lady cried.
"Okay." Alan steadied his hands by force of will. "Good! That's it, Your Highness, push hard. All right, stop pushing." A small, bloodstained head covered with waving coppery hair had appeared, but the life force behind the little being was definitely growing weaker. Alan wiped blood and mucous from the baby's face with his damp handkerchief, then felt beneath the infant's chin, searching. Something thick, smooth and slippery was wound tightly around the child's neck -- the umbilical cord.
Trying desperately to recall all he had read about emergency childbirth, Alan slipped his fingers beneath the 'loop'. “Wait, Your Highness, don't push yet.”
"What's wrong?" she cried.
"Just a second. The cord's around his neck.” Alan slipped it off, discovering a second loop as he did so. Quickly he removed it as well. "That does it. Now push hard. "
The Lady obeyed, and one shoulder appeared, followed an instant later by the other. There was a gush of blood and fluid, and the baby slipped easily into Alan's grasp.
The little body was limp, and for one terrible moment Alan thought the infant was already dead. Quickly he listened for the heartbeat and heard it -- steady, but slow -- frighteningly slow.
"Alan!" the Lady cried. "What's wrong?”
He was too busy to answer. Using two fingers, he cleared the baby's mouth of fluid, then began artificial resuscitation. Holding the child against him, he breathed into its mouth, using small puffs of air, as he had been taught when using the technique on an infant. The Lady tried to sit up, sobbing hysterically. "Alan! Alan, he's not breathing! Don't let him die! Alan, don't let him die!”
Alan continued the breathing, watching the baby's chest. It rose and fell, rose and fell, two, three, four times. The heart rate was picking up.
The baby coughed.
Alan stopped, holding the child against him, and waiting. The baby coughed again, then sneezed. Quickly Alan shifted the infant to one arm and slapped the small, round buttocks with the palm of his hand. The little face crumpled instantly and the baby gave a lusty howl.
The Lady fell back, her eyes huge and swimming with tears. "He's all right!”
Alan turned the baby over again, dragged an emergency blanket from the kit, shook it open one handed and wrapped the baby tightly. The child drew another deep breath and began to wail in earnest. The tiny face lost its pallor and flushed deeply.
Grinning with sheer relief, Alan placed the infant on his mother's abdomen. "Here's your son, Your Highness. He seems okay, now. Keep his head low, and hold him close.” He sat back, feeling a vast, comfortable satisfaction.
The patrolman stirred, drawing a long breath, and Alan spun toward him, yanking a blaster from his belt. Woods flinched back from him with a little moan of pain. Slowly, Alan lowered the weapon. "Just relax, patrolman," he said. "I'll help you in a minute.”
The baby's wails had diminished, and Alan turned to the Lady again. She was clutching the infant against her and smiling happily into the little face. "He's perfect," she said.
He looked at the baby, feeling a glow of pride. The Lady's hand touched Alan's cheek softly, and she smiled at him. He could see sweat glistening on her face. "You did it, Alan," she said. "You weren't lying. You did know what to do.”
Embarrassed, he turned away, digging in the emergency pack. After a moments search, he located another blanket and a roll of gauze. The baby sneezed again, and Alan studied the small face as he spread the second blanket over the Lady and her baby. Red hair stood out in matted waves from the chubby, pink face, and pale grey eyes blinked at him. The baby looked a lot like his father.
"Handsome baby, Your Highness,” he commented.
The Lady was still watching him. "Like his father," she said. "What are you doing, Alan?”
"I'm tying off the cord,” he told her. "It was around his neck, Your Highness and was choking him. That's why he didn't breathe right away." Carefully, Alan bound the thin strips of gauze around the pale cord, making sure they were secure. "There. Now I'm going to cut it with a needle beam. Hold him away from you a minute, Your Highness, and hold him still.”
The Lady obeyed. Working carefully, he employed the thin beam between the ties. "There, that does it. You're on your own, M’Lord." He paused. "What's his name, Your Highness?”
"My husband will name him, of course,” the Lady told him loftily. "It is not proper that a Terran should learn his name before his own kin."
"Oh." Alan looked down. “Sorry, Your Highness. I didn't think of that."
Her face softened. "His name is Talthzar."
The patrolman’s mouth opened wider. Alan leaned forward, once again examining the baby's face, and feeling a little touch of awe. "Gosh! I've never seen such a little Jilectan." He tucked the blanket more snugly around the infant. A miniature fist waved at him, and, without thinking, he took it between his thumb and forefinger.
Instantly he realized his error. Terrans did not touch Jilectans, unless it was to perform a service. Terrans never ventured to touch one of their alien overlords in friendship. There was no friendship between servant and master, after all.
Quickly he released the little fist, glancing furtively at the Lady. She was still watching him, a half smile on her lips.
"Do you like him?" she inquired unexpectedly.
He nodded. "He's real cute, Your Highness, if you'll pardon the Terranism."
Her expression sobered. "I meant what I said, Alan."
"Beg pardon, Your Highness?"
"What I said. I will get you a pardon if I can. You and Mark Linley."
Alan shook his head. "Halthzor will never pardon me, M’Lady -- or Mark either. I may have saved his son's life, but I killed his brother -- and I killed Salthzar. He'll never forgive that.”
The Lady shrugged. "You may be right, but it may surprise you to learn that my husband has a very strict code of honor. He may not pardon you, but he will never forget what you have done for him tonight." Her voice sharpened. "What are you doing, Ter...." She stopped, and her tone softened again. "What are you doing, Alan?"
"Delivering the afterbirth, M'Lady.” Alan grimaced as he finished the job, and discarded the placenta under a bush. "Are you too warm with that second blanket, Your Highness?"
She smiled at him kindly. "Yes, Alan, I am. You may take it away. I do not need it."
Alan wiped the blood from his hands on the grass, removed the blanket and tucked it beneath her. She wasn't bleeding excessively, he assured himself. Gosh! What a job! He couldn't understand how some people did it for a living. Well, one would get used to it, if they did it all the time, he supposed.
"How do you feel, Your Highness?"
"I am a little sore." She touched the blaster burn on her cheek, "This is hurting again."
Alan dug through the emergency kit, locating the burn salve. "This’ll help, M'Lady." He smoothed the cream gently over the spot and applied a small dressing. The child began to wail again, rooting at her gown. The Lady extended a hand.
"Help me to sit up, Alan.”
He obeyed, grunting a little as he lifted her. With one hand she tugged at a small cord at her throat. It came free, and her gown fell loosely from her shoulders.
She wasn't wearing a bra. Alan heard the young patrolman's sharp intake of breath, and glanced over to see him looking fixedly away from the Lady, still clutching his injured shoulder. The baby began to nurse.
Alan stood up, emergency kit in hand, and went over to the patrolman. "Hold on," he said. "I'm going to take your tunic off. It'll hurt a little."
The patrolman groaned as the garment came away, and glanced at his burned arm, shuddering. "It hurts." He spoke between clenched teeth.
Alan smoothed burn salve over the wound, then located a roll of bandage. The patrolman watched him with a puzzled expression.
"Are you really Alan Westover?" he whispered.
Alan smiled faintly. "Yes, I am. Don't I look like my posters?”
"Sort of,” Woods said. “I expected you to be older."
"And bigger, no doubt," Alan said. He was used to this.
"Alan!" The Lady's voice was sharp. "I want some water."
He paused, bandaging half completed. "Please, can you wait a minute, M'Lady? I'm almost done.”
"Now, Terran!”
Alan sighed. “Here, Billy, hold the bandage." He went over to the Lady, detaching the canteen from his belt.
She drank, still holding the child to her breast. Alan stood up, starting to go back to the patrolman.
"No, Alan!" She placed the canteen on the ground beside her. "Stay with me.”
Alan glanced back at the young patroller. "It'll just take a minute, Your Highness.”
“l want you with me...oh, very well!” She made an impatient gesture. "If it bothers your empathic sensibilities, go ahead. But be quick."
Alan went back to the patrolman and rapidly finished binding up the arm. Working hastily, he stretched the young man flat on the ground, elevating his feet, and covering him with the one remaining blanket. Shock was a very common result of even a minor blaster burn, and the eyes of the injured man had begun to have a suspiciously glassy appearance. Alan detached the canteen from the man's belt and held the container to his lips. The patrolman gulped the water eagerly.
"Alan," the Lady said.
“Just a minute, Your Highness.” Alan placed a hand on the man's forehead and extended a telepathic probe. The patrolman flinched, trying to pull away.
"No! I won't let you! M’Lady, he's reading my mind! Stop him!”
The Lady ignored the man. "Hurry up, Alan," she said.
"Yes, Your Highness." He deepened the probe, searching for the information.
The Patrol had taken Mark to the "Javelin", which was in orbit around the planet. Woods didn't know how badly he was hurt, but two Jilectans were on the way -- Lord Evinthvar and Lord Halthzor... Alan's heart climbed into his throat. They would be here soon, and search parties from the "Javelin" had been dispatched all over the planet. Woods and Quille were one of these. They had come in an aircar, which was parked about half a kilometer south.
Alan withdrew his probe.
“I'm sorry, Patrolman," he said gently. "I had to know."
The patrolman made a grab for his blaster. Alan evaded the attempt easily, coming gracefully to his feet. The Lady laughed softly, glancing contemptuously at the patrolman. "Alan, come here."
He obeyed, glancing at the crumpled form of the officer. The man had not stirred since the Lady had hit him, but there was no time to waste on any more first aid. He bent over the Vicerienne, extending a hand.
"Come, M'Lady," he said. "These men have an aircar a little south of here. We must go help my friends. Can you walk?" He hesitated. "I can take Lord Talthzar, if you like."
She frowned, then smiled. "I suppose you are right, Alan. Help me."
He took the infant in one arm, and hooked a hand behind the Lady's elbow, helping her to rise. She came gracefully to her feet, shaking out the folds of her bloodstained dress. Woods stared wildly up at them. "M’Lady, don't! What if he hurts the child! That's Alan Westover!"
She ignored him. "Let us go, Alan."
"M'Lady, he's a murderer! Please don't go with him! He might --”
“Silence!” Her eyes flashed over him, and Alan saw the young man shrink back. There was the hum of an aircar in the distance.
"Back, M'Lady!” Alan retreated beneath a scrubby bush, shifting the infant to one arm, and pulling out his blaster. The Lady moved beside him, her face tilted upward.
With astonishing accuracy, the car circled down, settling to the ground half a dozen meters from their hiding place. A voice spoke in his mind. "It's me, Alan. Take it easy.”
He knew that voice. “Eric!"
The door opened and a short, dark-clad figure emerged, pulling off a Patrol helmet. "Alan?"
"Here, Eric!" Alan almost ran forward, the Lady striding gracefully along beside him. Eric's blaster swung to cover her.
"Ah, there you are, Colonel. The Patrol has Mark."
Alan nodded. "I know. A couple of patrolmen happened along, and I read one of 'em. Mark's on the 'Javelin'. Boy, am I glad to see you! Been tracing me?"
"You bet." Eric opened the rear door. "In you go. We still have to pick up Kevin and Angie."
Alan stood back, letting the Lady get in first. Eric glanced at the child in Alan's arms. "Where'd that come from...holy space! It's a Jil!”
Alan nodded. “This is Lady Travinthzill's son. She went into labor right after we arrived here.”
Eric's face broke into a grin. "You delivered it? Good Lord, it's a boy, too! Halthzor's got him another son!”
The Lady spun back, eyes blazing at Eric. "Keep away from my child, Terran! No one but Alan is to touch him!”
Eric's jaw dropped. "Huh?"
"You heard!" The Lady entered the car with dignity, and Alan got in behind her.
Ruthy, Eric's wife and psychic partner was in the front seat, and had turned around, regarding the newcomers with worried brown eyes. "Alan, are you all right? Your mouth is cut.”
"A couple of patrolmen found us," he told her. "I'm all right -- no permanent damage.
Her eyes went to the baby in his arms, then swung to the Lady. "Oh heavens! Is that Halthzor's child?"
"Yes," Lady Travinthzill said coldly.
"We knew she was pregnant, but we didn’t realize.... Oh, my! A boy, too! His Highness’ll be happy. Did you deliver him, Alan?”
"Yes,” he said.
Eric climbed behind the controls, a slight grin playing on his lips. "You get yourself into the damnedest situations, Colonel Westover. Old Halthzor's gonna spit nails. He's on his way. Did you know?”
"I learned it from the patrolman. Let's go."
“Yessir.” Still grinning, Eric touched a control. The car rose from the ground.
**********
tbc
