Plague: 8/?
by Nancy Smith and Linda Garrick
Chapter V
The men had clearly been dead for some time, Fong noted at once. The temperature of the cave had encouraged decomposition of the bodies, and the smell was overpowering. Jason made a faint gagging sound and held his nose.
"Stay back." Fong went slowly forward. Trevor followed him.
"Looks like a couple of squads," Fong remarked. "Unless I'm much mistaken, they seem to have killed each other."
Trevor grunted. "Crazy. What do you think? A bunch of renegades or something?"
"Good question." Fong stared down at the body closest to him -- a sublieutenant, from the marks on his helmet. On impulse, He squatted down and investigated the man's belt pouches. In the third one he found a data case and removed it, flipping it on. Instantly, the screen lit up.
"Hmmm ... Sublieutenant Ch'Finch -- Procyon, stationed here on Epsilon Indi. His orders say he was in charge of a squad looking for another squad that had gone on a routine scout and failed to report back in."
"Looks like he found 'em," Trevor commented. He bent suddenly over another man. "Hey! Look at this!"
Fong straightened up. A man from the other squad had apparently charged Ch'Finch's squad, for he lay face down, halfway between his comrades and the "rescue party". And clutched in one gloved hand ....
The object was similar to the one he had seen this morning. It was slightly smaller, but it glowed with the same soft luminescence.
As soon as his eyes rested on it, Fong could see nothing else. As before, he felt it close around him, blotting out all other sensations. A grey mist seemed to encompass him and through that mist glowed the globe. It called him, commanding him, until he felt he must obey. Hardly aware of his movements, he crossed the cave toward it, hand outstretched.
From somewhere he heard a shrill cry, but it was unimportant. A small figure rushed past him and there was another shout. A clear, ringing sound smote his ears and the globe was rolling away.
Without conscious thought, Fong started after it, but before he could reach it, it had vanished into the water, sinking instantly from sight.
Fong felt suddenly very weak. His knees gave and he sank slowly to the cave floor, feeling as if he hadn't rested in months. Again, he heard the shrill voice -- Jason, he realized now -- shouting Trevor's name. Fong raised his head, trying to disregard the unsteadiness of his surroundings, to see Jason on his knees beside Trevor, who lay sprawled face-down on the cave floor.
"Trev! Trev, answer me!"
Trevor groaned. Fong blinked at his surroundings, aware suddenly that he was on his knees and that he was once again master of his own body. Moving carefully, he staggered to his feet and stumbled toward the boy.
"Is he okay?" His voice sounded odd to his own ears.
"I don't know!" There was a note of panic in Jason's voice. "It was hungry! It needed nourishment and Trev was nearest! Trev! Answer me!"
Trevor groaned again. Fong, still moving gingerly, knelt beside Jason and, not without effort, managed to turn Trevor onto his back. The man's face was pale and covered with a sheen of perspiration, but his eyes were open, and he blinked up at them.
"Shorty?" The word was slurred. "What happened?"
"Trev!" Jason still sounded half-hysterical. "Are you okay?"
Trevor coughed. "Uh ... yeah, I think so. What happened?"
"It was another one of those damned globes!" Jason clutched Trevor's arm convulsively. "It was draining the life right out of you!"
"What?" Trevor stared blankly up at Jason. Fong also turned to look at the psychic boy, feeling his heart beginning to pound against his ribs. He reached out to catch Jason's wrist.
"What are you saying? Are you telling us that thing was alive?"
"*Is* alive!" Jason cut him off. "I didn't kill it. I just kicked it into the water. It's still down there, radiating energy. I can still feel it. It's hungry!"
Trevor sat up, still looking pale and shaken, but apparently lucid once more. "You mean it absorbs energy from living things, Shorty?"
"It sure does! And it's evil! It pulls its victim to it by some means I don't understand. You and the Strike Commander were both caught when I kicked it into the water. It still wants you to ... to feed on."
A shudder ran through Fong. Jason's words sounded like the fantasies of a scared youngster, but he knew what he had felt. The globe had pulled him toward it, possessed his will for a few seconds, and apparently the same thing had happened to Trevor. And still, in spite of his common sense, he felt his eyes drawn toward the water where the globe-thing had disappeared, and he felt a gentle but compelling desire to enter the water and look for it.
"Maybe we should go after it," he said, astounded at his own words.
"I think we should." It was Trevor, agreeing with him. "Lord Blashvor will want to see it."
"No!" Jason leaped to his feet and stood, his back to the river, facing Fong and Trevor in an attitude that reminded the Strike Commander vaguely of something. "You aren't going near that thing again!"
"Aw, come on, Shorty. I'm warned now. I won't let it do that to me again."
"Yes you *will*, Trev!" Jason's voice was no longer shrill with fright, but held quiet determination. "The second you see it, it'll have you again. You're no match for it, and neither is Fong."
"And *you* are?" Fong heard the derision in his own voice with a sense of shock. What was wrong with him? Why had he said that? In his heart, he knew that Jason Sweeney was right, and yet he felt the urge to contest him.
"I have mind shields." Jason's voice hadn't changed. "They protect me. You have no shielding, Strike Commander, and Trev's is too weak to even slow that thing down. It almost took both of you over in less than two seconds. It's still calling you, trying to get you to come after it. Neither of you want to, but you're both arguing with me about getting it. Why?"
"Because His Lordship --"
"His Lordship agrees with me, Trev. I've already reported to him, telepathically. He says leave it alone."
Trevor got to his feet. "I still think we should go after it."
Jason's blaster appeared suddenly in his hand, pointed directly at Trevor. "Get back, Trev. Back away from the water or I'll stun you and force Fong to drag you back!"
"Shorty!"
"Do it! Now!"
Trevor obeyed, glowering at his small friend. "This is a hell of a way for you to act!"
"Farther back. You too, Fong."
Fong backed away and as the distance between himself and the river increased, he felt the desire to pursue the globe decrease. He took a deep breath and shook his head sharply. "Trevor, Jason's right."
Trevor also shook his head. "I don't know what got into me. Sorry, Shorty."
Jason gestured with the blaster. "Both of you lie down on your faces. Hands over your heads."
"Kid, I tell you I'm fine!"
"Quick, Trev, or I'll stun you."
Trevor obeyed, and Fong also lay down. He heard Jason's footsteps come quietly forward, and pause. Trevor's voice spoke, sounding annoyed. "This isn't necessary! I'm fine!"
"You aren't fine, but you will be." Jason's voice was firm. "Once we're away from here, that is." His fingers touched Fong's temple, and Fong tried not to flinch, aware that Jason was doing a deep mind probe on him. It took less than ten seconds and then Jason stood up. "Okay, you can both get up. I'm sorry, Trev."
Fong got to his feet. Jason's blaster had vanished and he was looking apologetically at Trevor.
"I'm sorry, Trev," he whispered.
Trevor rubbed his face and shook his head sharply. "No, you were right, Shorty. That thing was making me say things I didn't mean. Let's get out of here. The quicker we're away from here, the better."
Together, they strode away from the scene of carnage, hurrying. Fong didn't let out his breath until the river's path took them around two bends, putting more distance and stone between themselves and the globe-thing. His spirits rose as they rounded the second curve and the dead patrolmen were finally out of sight.
For a few moments, no one spoke. Fong glanced sideways at his two companions, surprised to see Jason swipe surreptitiously at his eyes. The boy caught his glance and quietly dropped the hand. Fong looked away.
He heard Trevor draw an unsteady breath. "Shorty --"
"Yeah?"
"What are these things? You talk about them like they're alive."
"I think they are."
"They don't look alive."
"No. but they act it, don't they?"
"Act it? They never move!"
"Are you saying that something has to move to be alive?"
"Well ... no."
"The river slugs of Bellian never move -- at least not by themselves. They drift in the currents and absorb algae that happens along. Looking at them, you'd never guess they were anything but a chunk of muddy rock."
"But --"
"These things eat, Trev. I know that for sure. They require nourishment, and I don't know of anything that isn't alive that requires nourishment."
"Nourishment?" Fong glanced at him. "Energy, maybe. You said it drew energy from Trevor. But any kind of functional machine needs a power source."
"It sucked power from you, too," Jason said quietly. "You felt weak afterwards, didn't you?"
"Well, yes, but --"
"You may be right in saying it could be a piece of machinery. I don't know. I've never heard of any kind of machinery that can supply itself with energy at will from a living organism."
Fong hadn't, either.
"But living things do that all the time. We do it, although we kill the organisms before we eat them."
"But it didn't try to eat us," Trevor protested. "It just drained us of energy." He paused to regard his young friend soberly. "How far would it have gone, do you think? Would it have killed us?"
Jason swallowed. "At the rate it was sucking it out of you --" He paused and swallowed again. "Yes. Very likely it would have. I could feel its hunger all the time we were near it."
"A bloody vampire," Fong muttered.
"What?" Trevor and Jason were both looking at him.
"A mythological creature that supposedly draws life from its victim by drinking its blood," Fong explained. "From Terran lore, I think. There's manifestations of it everywhere -- the blood ticks of Shallock, for instance. The things will actually kill smaller animals that they fasten themselves on -- drain them of so much blood that the trenchcrawler, or whatever it is, can't keep going."
"I've seen 'em," Trevor said. "But this thing drains energy, not blood."
In silence, they went on. The corridor curved and branched, but the main passage always followed the stream. Jason stayed close beside Trevor, and Fong watched the two of them with interest. There was a closeness about them that went beyond friendship -- almost like a blood tie. Was it possible that they were brothers, that the Jilectan had inadvertently captured a psychic that was the brother of a patrolman? Or perhaps a father and son? Was Trevor old enough to be Jason's father?
Fong doubted it, but he supposed it might be. Kids from Patrol dominated planets were initiated into such things at an early age. But if so, how had Jason obtained his distinctive Bellian accent, and Trevor the crisp, almost Jilectan-like speech of Corala?
"Trev's no relation to me, Strike Commander." Jason spoke almost absently. "At least, we don't think so. His early childhood is a bit of a mystery."
Fong felt the heat creeping up his neck. Jason was reading his mind without half-trying, just as the Jilectans had done for all these years. Damn psychics! Why couldn't they keep their snoopy little probes to themselves?
"Something down there." Jason had paused and was looking down a side passage. Trevor flashed his light within and Fong added his own to the others.
It was a small cave branching off from the larger one, the sides and bottom smooth from the long forgotten stream which had once carved out these caverns. And perhaps a dozen meters down the passage, revealed in the combined illumination of the three hand lights, was the body of another patrolman. The beams glinted brightly off the silver helmet.
Trevor swore under his breath. "Okay, Shorty, you call it. What do we do?"
Jason hesitated. "You both stay here. I'll go check it out."
Somewhat to Fong's surprise, Trevor made no protest. Jason went cautiously forward, shining his light ahead of him, down the passage.
They watched as he reached the figure and knelt beside it. Fong saw him reach over and touch something, and a sound reached him -- a sound that made his mouth go dry. A clear, ringing tone. But Jason didn't move back. He fumbled with the dead man's overcoat, unsealed it, and pulled the tunic beneath open.
"What is it, Shorty?" Trevor's question awoke echoes in the narrow confines of the passage. "What did you find?"
Jason straightened up and waved an arm at them. "It's okay. Come here!"
Trevor and Fong hurried to join him and knelt beside the still figure. Fong felt a prickle run over his skin at the sight of the globe that lay on the rock floor beside the body. Hastily, he averted his eyes.
"It's okay, Strike Commander." Jason reached across and quite fearlessly picked the thing up, holding it in one hand. "This one's dead."
Cautiously, Fong turned back to look at the thing, and knew at once that Jason was right. This globe did not glow, and it appeared to have been burned. One side was partially melted, giving it a warped, slightly grotesque app0earance. And he felt none of the earlier sensations that he had known with the other globes they had encountered.
"You're right. This one's been zapped." Trevor reached over to take the object from Jason and examine it carefully. "Do you know what did it?"
Jason shook his head and shrugged. "Maybe this?"
"This" was a small, highly polished stone in an intricate, ornate gold setting that lay on the dead patrolman's chest. Fong stared at it for a moment and then at Jason. "That? It's a piece of jewelry of some kind."
"I don't think so," Jason said slowly. "Feel his skin beneath it. Feel the clothes that were on top of it."
Puzzled, Fong obeyed, and was instantly struck by something. The skin beneath the little object was icy cold -- not just the cold of death, but the cold of a deep freeze -- frozen into rigidity. The tiny hairs on the man's chest broke as he touched them, falling away with tiny clicking sounds. The tunic and overcoat that had concealed the object were also frozen, the material stiff and crackly. But the sleeves of the coat as well as the part which had been further from the object were the same temperature as the air -- chilly, but definitely above freezing.
"Weird." Trevor was also feeling the man's clothing and skin. "It’s a circle -- a circle of ice that extends about twenty centimeters out."
Fong investigated, finding that what Trevor said to be true. About twenty centimeters in all directions from the spot where the object had lain, the skin was no longer frozen. An investigation of the clothing revealed similar findings.
"He hasn't drawn his blaster," Jason observed.
"Well, I guess we can always use some extra energy cells," Trevor remarked. He drew the blaster from the dead man's holster, automatically checking the power reading. He grunted in surprise.
"What's the matter?" Fong asked.
"Cell's exhausted. He must have fired it on emergency max." Trevor shook out the drained power cell and reached into the man's belt to remove his spares, which were standard equipment for all patrolmen. He inserted one into the blaster and once again grunted in surprise. "I'll be damned. This one's dead, too."
"Why would he put a dead cell back in his pouch?" Jason wondered aloud.
"Don't know." Trevor shook out the cell and inserted another. "What th --!"
"Dead," Jason said. "They're all dead, Trev."
"That doesn't make sense." Trevor shook out the cell and inserted the last spare. "You're right. I wonder what happened to the guy that made him use up every spare energy cell he's got."
"And carefully keep all the exhausted ones," Jason put in, quietly.
"Maybe he was crazy," Fong said. "Maybe he was a hermit or something, who mugged a 'trol and took his stuff."
"Well, he's clean-shaven. If he's a hermit, he's got access to shaving gear." Jason removed the man's helmet, revealing rugged features, his hair cropped in the regulation Patrol style, and his eyes closed. The expression on his face was one of complete peace.
"Doesn't look like he died violently," Fong said slowly. "Maybe he fell asleep and starved to death."
"Nuts," Jason muttered under his breath. He reached out and grasped the chain around the dead man's neck and drew it gently over his head.
"Shorty --" Trevor's voice held a warning note.
"It's safe," Jason said.
"You sure?"
"Yeah, I'm sure." Jason put the chain over his head and tucked the stone beneath his clothing. He stood up. "I think we should go back now."
"You don't want to look for an exit?"
"I don't think we're going to find one -- at least not this close. Besides, His Lordship wants to see what we found."
"You're probably right." Trevor heaved himself to his feet. "Let's get going."
Jason picked up the dead globe without comment. They retraced their steps quickly and started back down the passage toward their campsite. Fong felt his neck start to prickle in anticipation as they neared the spot where they had found the dead patrolmen and the globe thing. He hated to admit it to either of his companions, but he was scared, and the closer they got to the spot, the scareder he got.
Jason was probably aware of the emotions, he thought. Undoubtedly, the boy was an empath.
Fong tried to banish the feeling, telling himself that there was nothing to be afraid of. The thing had gone into the river. It had tried to take his life, but Jason, the psychic, had prevented it.
The thought itself was disquieting. Legally, Jason was the enemy. Fong, a patrolman, should actually be trying to figure out some way to take him to the Jilectans. He certainly should not be feeling friendship or obligation toward the boy.
Stupid, Fong. How are you going to capture him, much less bring him in? He's a psychic. He can read you without half-trying, and he's got a Jil and a very tough ex-'trol behind him.
Here was the spot. Fong repressed a shudder as the forms of the dead patrolmen came into view. From this fate Jason had saved him. In fact, come to think of it, he owed the little guy his life a couple of other times, too.
The river still drew him. Irresistibly, he felt his eyes roll toward the flowing water, to the spot where the globe had vanished. He saw Trevor glance toward it, too, and saw Jason take his companion's arm firmly.
"Look at me, Trev," he said, quietly.
Trevor obeyed for an instant and then started to glance back at the river.
"No, Trev, at me. Look at me."
Trevor did.
"Look at me," Jason repeated. "At my eyes, Trev. Tell me the color of my eyes."
"They're blue, Shorty. They always have been."
"Are they?"
"Uh yeah, I think so."
They passed the dead patrolmen. Fong felt his eyes drift once again toward the river, and struggled against the urge to turn away from his companions, to plunge into those icy waters and locate the globe. The globe! It seemed suddenly the most desirable of possessions. He could probably reach it before either of his companions could stop him. Jason was occupied with Trevor, with keeping his attention from the river.
Yes, he could do it. In his mind's eye, Fong again saw the glowing, luminescent globe, felt his feet falter and stop. It was madness! He knew it was madness and ultimately death, but he had no choice. He must get the thing.
Trevor was half-hypnotized, he saw, and Jason's entire attention was focused on him, holding him away from that deadly river. Fong started toward the water at a trot.
Rapidly, he closed the distance, seeing still, in his mind's eye, the glowing orb of his quarry. It called him, enticing him to come toward it and he increased his pace, aware of his folly but unable to resist. A dozen steps and he would be at the riverbank.
Something struck his foot, knocking it sideways into the other. He tripped, sprawling forward, and his chin came into contact with a rock. He blinked back sparks and struggled to get his legs under him.
A stunbolt hummed and the tingling jolt washed over him. Darkness descended.
**********
tbc
