F Paul Wilson - LaNague 02 (22 page)

           
He landed
at the dark edge of the park, but infra-red lenses and image intensifiers gave
him a day-bright picture on his screen.

           
Let’s make
this short but sweet, he thought, and started the unit on a slow walk toward
the dome.

           
He was
almost halfway there before one of the natives spotted the towering and
all-too-familiar figure shambling out of the darkness. There was an instant of
panic, then a great shout went up as the guardians quickly formed a barrier
between M’lorna and the
temple
of
Vashtu
.
Rakoans of every description – male, female, crippled, and infirm – poured onto
the clearing from all sides to reinforce the living wall before the Dark One.
Tella watched Mintab scurry inside the temple, then activated one of the
lasers.

           
A beam of
green light lanced out and scored a groove along the outer wall of the dome to
his right, then arced over the doorway and grooved the left wall of the dome.
And then M’lorna was among the Rakoans.

           
They
smashed, bashed, slashed at him with fists, feet, rocks, clubs, and knives to
no avail. Their proud defiance faded as they saw the God of Evil and Darkness
wade inexorably through their ranks like a farmer through a grain field.
M’lorna was at the entrance to the
temple
of
Vashtu
, his ancient enemy, and
nothing could stop him.

           
But before
the Dark One could enter, a struggling, staggering Mintab emerged, holding high
the jewel-tipped staff that had rested in the hands of Vashtu in the shrine.
M’lorna halted abruptly and, as Mintab moved forward with the staff, gave
ground. Then, before the eyes of the assembled faithful of Vashtu, the God of Evil
and Darkness rose slowly, silently, and disappeared into the blackened sky.

           
“YOU’RE
UNDER ARREST, TELLA!” said Prather as Tella extricated himself from the unit.
The sergeant’s face was scarlet, and he held a gravity cuff under one arm.

           
“What’s the
charge?”

           
“How does
assault on an alien population sound for a start?”

           
“What makes
you say I assaulted anyone?” Tella knew he was in trouble but was not going to
allow himself to be trapped into any admissions.

           
Prather
smirked. “I monitored your screens from the moment you left. I saw every move
you made; even made a recording of it. You’re in trouble, friend. You’re going
up to the cruiser for safekeeping, and from there you’re going to Fed Central
to face charges.”

           
Chornock
stormed into the courtyard. “But first he’s going to make an abject apology to
Mintab and the Rakoan people for desecrating their shrine! He has completely
destroyed whatever good will I’ve managed to build up with these people and I
demand that he make an apology before he leaves!”

           
After a
lengthy debate, Prather reluctantly agreed to ferry Chornock and Tella over to
the Rakoan section of the city, but the trip proved unnecessary: Mintab was
waiting for them by the flitter.

           
“My people
will now go with the doctor to his homeland,” he said without preamble. He
stood tall and impassive in the dark, but his respiratory rate seemed to be
more rapid than usual.

           
“B-but…”

           
“My people
are celebrating now. They have successfully defended their temple and deserve
to congratulate themselves. In the morning, however, we shall begin to make
arrangements with this man to trade for the stones.” He indicated Tella.

           
“I’m afraid
Mr. Tella will not be here in the morning,” Prather said.

           
“We will
deal with no one else,” Mintab shot back. It was a statement of fact.

           
Chornock
and Prather glanced at each other, then shrugged. “Very well. He will be here
in the morning.”

           
“And
bassa?” Tella asked, feeling relief flood through him; he was off the hook.
“Will you trade bassa?”

           
“Of course.
What we shall ask in return is continued work toward assuring the future of our
race.” His eyes bored into Tella’s. “With help, my people will surely be here
to protect the temple on the day M’lorna really comes.”

           
Tella
suddenly felt as if someone had rammed a fist into his solar plexus.

           
“Excuse
me,” he said in his native tongue as he backed away from the alien. “I’ve got a
number of very important subspace calls to make.”

           
TRAVELING
IN A STATE OF mental and emotional anesthesia, Jo barely remembered the trip
between Ragna and Jebinose. One shock had followed another and it was only
after the commercial liner she had boarded had gone into orbit around her
destination that she began taking notice of her surroundings again.

           
Immediately
after seeing Larry collapse during his subspace call, she had placed a call of
her own to the spaceport on Jebinose. The administrator there informed her that
an unidentified man had been rushed to
Copia
Hospital
– alive but unconscious.
Her next call was a message to the hospital stating that the man from the
spaceport was to be given all necessary care and that all bills would be paid
in full through a given account number at a sector bank.

           
Then came
the next shock: after deciding to go to Jebinose herself and to take Old Pete
with her – she didn’t want him out of her sight – she discovered that he had
departed for Jebinose days before. There could no longer be any doubt in her
mind that Old Pete was involved in her father’s death… and perhaps involved in
whatever had happened to Larry.

           
Jebinose
twirled below her now, looking like any other innocent, Earth-class planet. But
Jebinose was different. Jebinose had killed her father and injured her lover.
Jo was reluctant to board the waiting downward shuttle. She feared the planet.

           
Thoughts of
her father tumbled into her head; sharp, clear memories that time couldn’t
blur. There had existed an indescribable bond between them that had been
intensified after her mother’s death to the point where at times she almost
thought she knew what her father was thinking. She hadn’t understood then why
he had left her with her aunt and uncle and gone off to another planet. It had
crushed her. She couldn’t fully understand it now, but at least she could
accept it. Her acceptance in no way, however, diminished the inner tension
between the love she still felt for her father and the residual anger and
resentment at what she considered a callous desertion.

           
She looked
again at the planet outside the viewport and felt a pressure within her. She
wanted to strike out at something, someone, anything. She was like a dying
giant star that had collapsed in on its iron core and was waiting to go
supernova. But she held on. You couldn’t hate a planet. There was a human
hidden somewhere on Jebinose who was responsible for what happened to Larry.
She knew what he looked like – she had replayed the recording of Larry’s
subspace call over and over on the way out from Ragna until that balding head,
sallow skin, and pair of merciless eyes were seared upon her memory. She
fingered the tiny blaster in her hip pouch. She would find him…

           
She would
find Old Pete, too. And what an explosive confrontation that would be. It was
all his fault, really. If he had only stayed on his island in the
Kel
Sea
, if he had only stayed out of
her life, if he had only kept his suspicions to himself, she and Larry would
probably be at the casino now playing a round or two of pokochess.

           
True, his
suspicions had not been unfounded – there was most certainly a plot against the
Federation and he deserved credit for recognizing it long before anyone else.
But that could not absolve him from whatever he was covering up on the planet
below.

           
The steward
was signaling her that it was time to board the shuttle. With a deep breath and
clenched fists, she turned from the viewport and walked toward the lock.

           
THE
SPACEPORT OUTSIDE COPIA doubled as a port for intra-atmospheric travel as well
and was jammed with people at this hour. Jo felt very much alone despite the
crowd eddying about her. She didn’t even have her own name to lean on – she was
traveling under an assumed identity and had paid for her ticket in cash on the
chance that someone might be looking for a traveler named Finch or one from IBA.

           
As she
stepped out of a dropchute from the upper level, Jo saw her first Vanek,
unmistakable in his dusty robe with his blue-tinted skin and braided black
hair. He sat silent and cross-legged with his back against a column in the
middle of the wide, crowded, ground floor mall. His left hand was folded inside
his robe and his right held a cracked begging bowl in his lap. A few coins
gleamed dully from the bowl. Passers-by took little notice of him and the
Vanek, in turn, seemed oblivious to the activity around him. His hooded eyes
were apparently fixed on something within.

           
Jo stopped
and stared at the beggar momentarily. So here was one of the half-breeds who
had killed her father. Perhaps the very one. Looked harmless enough.

           
With a
quick shake of her head and shoulders – almost as if she felt a chill – she
started walking. There were too many things to do before warp lag caught up
with her to waste time sight-seeing. She passed within arm’s length of the
Vanek without another glance she certainly wasn’t going to give him anything
for his bowl – and didn’t notice his eyes snap open and follow her as she moved
away. She was about to round a corner when she heard a crash behind her.

           
Startled,
she turned to see the Vanek beggar on his feet, statue still, staring at her
with wide dark eyes. His earthen bowl was shattered on the floor, some of the
coins still rolling away on end in random directions. The travelers passing
through the mall slowed their comings and goings to watch the tableau.

           
Then the
Vanek moved toward Jo, his step faltering, hesitant. Drawing to within a half
meter of her, he stopped.

           
“It is
you!” His voice was a hoarse, high-pitched whisper.

           
He reached
out a spindly arm and touched her hand. Jo recoiled from the dry, parchment
touch.

           
“It is
truly you! The Wheel has turned full circle!”

           
He whirled
abruptly and hurried away.

           
When he was
out of sight, Jo shrugged uncomfortably and continued on her way. The momentary
spectators around her did the same. Soon, only two small boys remained at the
scene, picking spilled coins from among the shards of the forgotten begging
bowl.

           
SHE FOUND A
PUBLIC vidphone booth and called
Copia
Hospital
. The Vanek incident
moments earlier lingered in her mind. There was an eerie quality about the
whole thing. He seemed to recognize her. Could he have somehow perceived the
relationship between her and Junior Finch? She shrugged again. Who knew what
went on inside a Vanek head anyway?

           
A
middle-aged woman in traditional medical white appeared on the screen. “
Copia
Hospital
,” she said.

           
“I’d like
some information on a patient named Lawrence Easly,” Jo told her. “He was
admitted as an emergency three nights ago.”

           
“I’m sorry,
but that is considered privileged information and not for release. If you wish,
you may contact the patient’s physician directly–”

           
“I was
given to understand,” Jo cut in, “that he was alive three days ago. Can you
tell me that much?”

           
“I can tell
you that he is stable and that’s about all,” the woman said, sensing Jo’s
concern. “Does that help any?”

           
“Yes, it
does,” Jo replied, relieved. That meant he was holding his own.

           
A sign on
the wall outside the vidphone area glowed “Subspace Calls” and she followed the
blinking arrow. The booths were located halfway down a long, low mezzanine that
ran between the mall and the service area. Jo stood and surveyed the six deluxe
booths. All were identical and it would have been virtually impossible to
identify the booth she sought had she not noticed the tool cart sitting outside
the furthest one.

           
A closer
look revealed a man in coveralls crouching on the floor of the booth, peering
through an inspection port.

           
Playing a
hunch, Jo opened the door. “Find out what hurt that guy yet?” she asked.

           
The
serviceman looked up. “Nothing in here hurt anybody, lady. Everything’s in top
shape.” His attitude was defensive.

           
“I’ve got a
few questions about these booths–” Jo began.

           
“Look,
lady,” he said with some annoyance, “I’m not supposed to say anything. If
you’ve got questions, go ask them down at the main office. Addams Leasing –
it’s in the directory.”

           
“Okay. I’ll
do just that.”

           
She rented
a flitter, punched in the code number of the company’s main office, and sat
lost in thought while Copia passed unnoticed beneath her. It stopped
automatically above her destination and she brought it down for a landing on
the roof.

           
Inside, a
lean, hawkish man awaited her behind a counter. “May I help you?” he said in
unctuous tones as she approached.

           
“Yes. I’d
like some information on your subspace call booths.”

           
A sign on
the counter identified the man as Alvin Mirr and he brightened visibly. “Ah!
You wish to lease some?”

           
“No, I just
want to ask somebody a few questions.”

           
Mr. Mirr’s
attitude cooled abruptly. “Oh. In that case, you can find all you want to know
in this.” He brusquely flipped a pamphlet across the counter at her and started
to turn away.

           
“Listen,
you!” Jo flared, flinging the pamphlet back in his face. “One of my employees –
who happened to be in excellent health until he stepped into one of your booths
– has spent the last three days in the local hospital, and whether or not you
find yourselves up to your ears in a lawsuit may very well depend on the
answers I get here today!”

           
Mr. Mirr
suddenly became very accommodating. “You must be referring to that unfortunate
incident out at the spaceport. We’re terribly sorry about that, of course, but
I can assure you unequivocally that our callbooths are absolutely
accident-proof. Especially our deluxe models – they’re shielded in every way
with the finest insulation. Why, we even have a psi-shield on each and every
one. We haven’t overlooked a thing. And something else I should–”

           
“Wait!
Stop!” Jo said, interrupting the torrent of explanations. “Did you say the
callbooths have psi-shields?”

           
“The deluxe
models, yes,” he nodded. “For the utmost in privacy. The caller can even opaque
the glass to guard against lip-readers if he so desires.”

           
“But why a
psi-shield?”

           
“Some very
important and sensitive communiqués regarding high-level business and political
matters go out from those booths. Our customers want to know that every effort
has been made to ensure their discretion. They want to know that even a
telepath can’t eavesdrop on them.”

           
Jo
considered this for a moment. “Does it work in both directions?” she asked
after a pause.

           
“I don’t
under–” Mirr began, a puzzled expression flickering across his face. Then, “Oh,
I see what you mean. Yes, the psi-shield is non-directional: there’s a damper
effect on either side of the booth wall.”

           
“Thank
you!” Jo said and turned and headed for the root.

           
Next stop
was
Copia
Hospital
.
She punched in the number and thought about psi-shields. Before collapsing,
Larry had mentioned a “wild card,” a psi-talent who was somehow involved –
involved with her father or involved with deBloise, he never said. Then there
was that horrible little man who looked into the booth after Larry went down.
She wondered… maybe Larry was supposed to die in that booth and maybe the
psi-shield saved his life.

           
But that
would mean she was dealing with a psi-killer and such people were not supposed
to exist. Of course, the psi-killers lurking about Occupied Space would
certainly like everyone to think so. There had never been a confirmed case, but
Jo was sure that somewhere a psi who could kill with his mind existed… in all
of humanity’s trillions on all the inhabited planets, there should be at least
one – more than one.

           
One thing
she knew: Larry uncovered something here, something potentially damaging to
deBloise or his plans. There was even an intimation of deBloise’s involvement
in her father’s death in that foreshortened call. But how could that be?

           
Unless Old
Pete was the link.

           
The flitter
slowed and hovered.
Copia
Hospital
waited below.