Topaz Dreams (26 page)
Authors: Marilyn Campbell
"Falcon!"
Mindless of any injury he may have suffered, Steve gave his shoulders a
shake. His only response was another barely audible groan. She did what
she thought he would do. Her fingers made contact with his temple at
the same time as she brought his limp hand to her head. Falcon. Wake
up. We have to get out of here. I don't care if your neck's broken, you
wake up right this minute!
Falcon blinked rapidly several times, then grinned at her. You are improving, Steve.
She released his hand and gave him a kiss on the nose. "Good! Are you all right? Is anything broken?"
He
closed his eyes again, then shook his head and pulled himself upright.
"No, nothing broken. But your face is cut, and you still have glass in
your hair."
His fingers touched her cheek, but she could not allow
herself the pleasure of his concern or his touch. "That doesn't matter.
We have to get moving."
His eyes moved past her, growing wide when
he saw the flames, and he sprang to his feet. Just then a spark must
have found the trail of gasoline, because a line of fire spread rapidly
away from the crash site.
There was no need for words. He lifted
Nesterman, and they began running as fast as they could toward the
river, praying the fire did not entrap them.
Frantic animals
scurried through the brush beside them, more frightened by the threat
of fire than the strange humans in their midst. Birds screeched and
flapped wildly between the trees overhead. The creatures of the forest
instinctively headed for the safety of the water. When several deer
loped elegantly past at tremendous speed, Steve turned to look behind
her. Animals of all sorts and sizes were charging out of the rapidly
burning forest—wolves, mountain goats, porcupines—running in terror
from the wall of flames stalking them. The wind had joined the flight
to the river, carrying the fire along with it. They had to move faster.
In minutes they would be devoured by the rolling furnace.
Falcon
caught sight of a large bull moose crashing through the trees and held
out his hand to it. The monstrous animal slowed, started to pass, then
turned and approached his outstretched hand. The moose's hairy sides
heaved from the strain of running, his massive hooves pawed at the
ground, impatient to be off, but he allowed Falcon to touch him. A few
seconds later, he dipped his antlered head in acquiescence.
"He will
take us with him." The back of the moose was almost a foot over
Falcon's head, but he managed to heave Nesterman onto the animal's
hump. Making a hand stirrup, he gave Steve a leg up. With her
assistance, he hauled himself up behind her, then leaning them both
forward over Nesterman's body, Falcon reached around her to clutch the
hair on the moose's hump.
The beast took off with a tremendous lurch
that almost threw them off again. The roaring fire was gaining on the
herd of exhausted animals, but their lives depended on not giving up
the race. A brown grizzly bear rose on his hind legs and growled in
objection as they passed.
Steve thought every bone in her body was
being dislocated. She could hear the agonizing cries of slower animals
not far behind. The heat of the fire closed in on them; smoke obscured
the way ahead. The moose galloped through low-nanging tree limbs and
squashed anything foolish enough to be in his path. Several small
branches dangled from the fingers of his wide, palm-shaped antlers.
Finally, to protect herself from the limbs and pine needles beating at
her, she buried her face in Nesterman's back.
Splash! Steve's head
jerked up as her feet acknowledged that they had been dunked in icy
water. They had escaped! They were in the Yukon River.
Falcon squeezed Steve's waist as the moose paddled leisurely into deeper water. "Look behind us."
Hundreds
of animals survived the inferno the same way they had, and Steve smiled
when she recognized the big grizzly's head bobbing up and down. Most of
the creatures stayed near the shore, seemingly waiting for the fire to
give up so they could return to the forest.
Although quick, the fire
had been devastating. As it reached the shoreline, it sputtered and
died, but left scorched earth and smoldering, blackened trees behind.
These animals would have to seek out new habitats, but at least they
were alive.
The moose was anxious to be rid of his load as soon as
they reached the other side, and bucked several times before Falcon
could calm him again, he slid off the animal's back, helped Steve down,
then returned Nesterman to his shoulder. He was grateful that his
strength and endurance had increased before this part of his mission
began. With his free arm, he hugged Steve to his side.
Steve felt
numb from the waist down. For several minutes she simply let his body
heat seep into her. Finally her toes came back to life, and she was
able to stand on her own.
"How c-c-can you p-p-possibly be warm?" she asked through chattering teeth.
"I felt the cold water as you did. I simply did not permit my body to be discomfited by it."
"Of
c-c-course. How s-s-silly of me." She knew she had no reason to be
annoyed with him, but she couldn't help herself. The sun shone brightly
on her face, but the wind blowing against her wet clothes made her so
cold it was almost painful.
Falcon took her hand and started walking
along the shoreline, adjusting Nesterman over his shoulder. "Come, my
lady. Stay by my side and I will keep thee warm."
Steve wrinkled her
nose at him, then laughed at the sparkle in his eye. "I didn't realize
deadly adventures would put you in such a rare humor."
"Why not? We are alive, are we not?"
She paused to consider that a moment, then laughed again. "You're absolutely right."
A
glimpse of rooftops some distance away assured them they were heading
in the right direction. As they neared the bridge they had intended to
cross originally, it was not surprising to see the area alive with
activity. A fire engine, two police cars, and a variety of other
vehicles had collected at the edge of town. From the way everyone was
milling around, it appeared as though even the authorities were unsure
of what needed to be done now that the fire had burned itself out.
Steve
abruptly yanked Falcon away from the shoreline, back among the trees
where they would be camouflaged. "We can't let them see you."
It took Falcon a moment to comprehend. "Oh, yes. My eyes. Perhaps we could improvise a makeshift bandage and say I was injured."
She
shook her head as she scanned him from head to toe, looked down at
herself, then at Nesterman. Their coats and pants were torn; dried
blood marked their faces and hands where they had been cut by glass and
branches. The finishing touch was the layer of black soot clinging to
them from the waist up. Below that they were still dripping wet.
"Disguising
your eyes wouldn't solve the real problem. We both look like we barely
escaped with our lives, to say nothing of the unconscious man you just
happen to be lugging around. If we walk up there, they'll know we were
involved in the fire in some way, and the questions would begin.
Eventually I'll have to supply some of the answers, but now is not the
time, and I definitely don't want to explain who you are."
Falcon nodded. "If we can get to a telephone, we will have the assistance we need."
Fighting
their way through the tangle of overgrown bushes and fallen tree limbs,
they skirted the edge of the small town. The streets were fairly
deserted, due either to the fact that it was midday, or that everyone
was congregated by the river. Whatever the reason, it served to their
advantage when they came out from hiding.
Steve spotted a gas
station with a pay telephone, and they hurried toward it. "I hope your
friends will accept a collect call. I'm fresh out of change." After she
explained her comment to Falcon, she helped him make his call.
Although
the other party accepted the charges, Falcon seemed to be having a
difficult time convincing that person of their need to be rescued.
Steve watched him press a long sequence of numbers on the phone, then
hang up.
"I believe I reached an emissary who has been out of touch
for too long. The woman's name is Jenny. A baby was crying loudly in
the background, and her side of the conversation was very convoluted. I
gathered she could not act on her own. Her mate, George, is an
executive at an oil company in Fairbanks. She will call his office and
tell him our location. They are far from here, she said. It may be
quite a wait before he comes."
Steve put off calling Lou until such
time as she could give him precise directions to George and Jenny's
house so he could pick up Nesterman. Close to two hours passed before
George, Jenny, and the baby arrived at the gas station. Other than
identifying themselves, they were silent as they began the return trip
to Fairbanks.
Falcon saw no need for polite conversation either and
came right to the point. "It will be necessary for us to leave this man
with you until Steve's employer can arrange to have him picked up. I
have been keeping him asleep by suggestion, but if you wish to go along
with our story, he could be allowed to awaken once we reach your home.
We would also appreciate the loan of some clothing and the opportunity
to refresh ourselves. The real problem, however, is that we must return
to Innerworld as soon as possible, but my ring was stolen. I will need
to borrow yours."
Neither George nor Jenny answered, but a few
minutes after they left town, George pulled the car to the side of the
road and stopped. Slowly, he turned in the seat and pointed a small
pistol at Falcon's head.
"Listen, pal, I don't know who the hell you
are, or what you're talking about, so I don't expect we'll be helping
you go anywhere."
Calm yourself, Steve. Look at his ring finger, Falcon ordered mentally.
George
was wearing an Innerworld ring. Steve sat back against the seat, but
could not completely relax, even though she felt no real danger
emanating from the man.
"You are wise to be skeptical under the
circumstances," Falcon told George. "You have my permission to touch my
mind to learn what you need to know."
George nodded at Jenny.
Shifting the sleeping baby from one shoulder to the other, she held out
two fingers and Falcon leaned forward so she could reach his temple. He
returned her gaze steadily, allowing her to see the physical proof of
the facts she was absorbing.
"Put away the gun, dear. He's half
felan. He knew you were suspicious, but not violent enough to harm
them. Falcon is an Innerworld tracker assigned to clear up all these
problems we've been having, although he has understandably withheld the
exact details of his mission from me." She nodded toward Steve. "She's
a Terran, but she's been helping him. He trusts her implicitly, so we
should, also."
George looked alarmed. He had lowered the gun but not
his guard. "A Terran and an alien empath working together for
Innerworld? Jenny, he has mental strength far beyond yours. What if he
withheld other important information just now, like he's been exiled?
The order that nobody was to use the transmigrator still stands. I will
not defy that order without more substantial authorization."
Falcon took a deep, slow breath. Steve could actually feel his frustration. She donned her puzzle-solving cap.
"Falcon, I remember you made contact with someone in San Francisco. Couldn't that person confirm who you are?"
Falcon
frowned slightly. "He would know even less than Jenny just learned."
Looking at George, he ventured, "Are communications with Monitor
Control still interrupted?"
George shook his head. "No. As a matter-of-fact they suddenly became fully operational again sometime during the night."
Falcon
glanced at Steve and blinked. About the time Underwood reprogrammed the
ring that was jamming the system. "Time is of extreme essence, but I do
not fault you for needing authorization. Please take us to your
residence and we will wait while you obtain approval to assist us. I
would suggest you address the message directly to Governor Romulus. The
mention of my name should get his immediate attention," Falcon
stated.
George's eyebrows raised slightly before he nodded his agreement and stepped on the gas.
Steve
no longer wondered at the fact that she was picking up on Falcon's
emotional state. What she could not figure out was why was he so
frustrated? Surely he wasn't worried about getting George's help. Even
she could tell the man was already convinced Falcon was on the level
and just wanted to get a proper okay. His worry was worrying her.
She reached for his hand and squeezed. When he turned to her, she gave him a quizzical look. What's wrong?
His
eyes registered his surprise. He had heard her without her touching his
temple, and she was hardly worked up. This mental business between them
was getting stranger all the time.
Threading his fingers through
hers, he let her share the cause of his concern. I told you I am able
to see things that have occurred before. The images fade continually as
time passes. After about twenty-four hours, they disappear completely.
It works the same way when I am tracking people. I can follow either
their brain pattern or their personal aura. Even when I was in
Underwood's house, I was not close enough to get a fix on his
brainwaves.
So that you understand the problem we will be facing,
you should note that Innerworld is about half the size of the United
States and has a population of almost twenty-five million. Since we
have no idea where Underwood is headed within the colony, I am counting
on the blackness of his aura to lead me to him once we get there. If
too much time goes by, my talents will not be of much use.
"Jenny, do you have the time?" Steve asked.
"It's
about three. Oh my, you're probably starving! Well, don't worry, we'll
be home within the hour and get the both of you fed and cleaned up
before you leave." She was anxious to make up for her mate's
stubbornness since she had no doubt whatsoever about the integrity of
the handsome man in the back seat.
"That would be very nice, thank
you." Steve smiled gratefully, then tried sending another thought to
Falcon. How long has it been?
When I said you were improving, that
was a gross understatement. Are you doing anything differently to
enable me to hear your thoughts so clearly?
Not that I can tell. It's just happening like the feelings. What about the time?
It
is hard to calculate. It was night when I arrived in Alaska, but I do
not know the exact time. It has probably been between twelve and
fourteen hours already.
Geez! Maybe well luck out and someone will have stopped Underwood the second he appeared in Innerworld.
I
do not believe we can depend on that any more than the possibility that
he crossed Romulus's or Aster's paths. They are the only two who would
recognize him on sight. I do not dare send any specific alert about
Underwood over the open transmission system, but I will have George
warn Romulus to expect our arrival with another problem.
So, thought
Gordon Underwood as he read the data on the monitor, the alien who had
escaped from his Nevada hospital six months ago had since become the
leader of his people. "Governor" Romulus, they called him. The big
shock though was that his co-governor and mate was the woman who had
been with him at the time. It did not sit well with Gordon that he had
dismissed her as decoration. She had apparently been instrumental in
the man's mysterious disappearance. There was no time today for
self-recrimination or righting yesterday's mistakes. Perhaps another
time he would find a way to pay them back for the inconveniences they
caused him, but not today.
Delphina sat quietly next to him as he
perused several more files of Innerworld current events. He found
himself chuckling when he realized how drastically Nesterman had
disrupted Innerworld's mundane routine with his random fumblings. All
things considered, the people here should be grateful to him. It didn't
look as though much of anything happened from one year to the next. The
change of leadership and surprising pronouncement that the woman, Aster
Mackenzie, possessed a drop or two of Noronian blood were the only
other big news items recently. He supposed if he researched back into
their history he would find upheaval, scientific and medical
discoveries, and so forth, but, again, there was insufficient time for
such leisurely reading.
He had had no idea what to expect when they
had arrived. The transmigration itself was miraculous. A man stationed
at a control panel had merely shaken his head in disgust as he and
Delphina exited the glass-walled unit. They hadn't even had to
fabricate an explanation. The man had said, "Don't tell me. Emergency.
Governor Romulus." Gordon had nodded and the man waved them on. The
people here were obviously rather complacent about security, much to
his satisfaction.
He had asked Delphina how he might get answers to
some of his questions about her world, and she had taken him to a
library. He had soon discovered there was very little information he
could not access through one of the many computer terminals available
there, and he had set to work immediately. His photographic memory
automatically stored volumes of facts and formulas. He had only needed
to make a few written notations regarding the most complex data.
He
had learned how the Noronians traveled across the universe in
remarkably short periods of time, and that a gram of the rare dustlike
substance, volterrin, which Delphina had mentioned, produced sufficient
energy to run New York City for a year.
The cure to cancer and other
deadly diseases were child's play compared to some of their other
achievements in the field of medicine. Genetic engineering had been
outlawed—after they had perfected it, and the dead could be brought
back to life.
The human brain held no more mysteries for these
people. One mind could communicate with another. With reprogramming, a
man's memory could be completely erased and replaced with new thoughts.
That, Underwood realized, was the secret to their boring, regulated
society. Crime did not exist because criminal behavior was not
tolerated. The offender was altered to fit the accepted norm.
Therefore, Underwood knew he had to return to his own, familiar world.
Sooner or later, if he stayed here, he would be found and destroyed
like a defective piece of equipment.
He had not located the exact
code, but he was certain he had enough information to figure out
eventually how to access the Innerworld data banks out of his own home.
The ring was the key, and now he had two. He had no doubt that
Nesterman would be cooperative once he was given a taste of the
fountain of wisdom. If not, he would have King eliminate him. He
probably should anyway, considering his ultimate plans.
When he
returned to the earth's surface, it would be with a wealth of knowledge
that would ensure him the position of power he had always craved.
Possessing Delphina was an unexpected bonus.
Another thing he had
made note of was the Noronians' use of holography. They were in the
inner core of the earth and yet, outside of the buildings, it actually
looked like they were outdoors. There was a lavender sky and a huge,
bright orange sun with a white ring around it. He would make use of the
technique to improve living conditions in his underground facility in
Nevada.
He intended to introduce his incredible medical discoveries
to the public slowly. Altruism and the betterment of mankind had no
place in his scheme, but the citizens of the United States did not need
to know that. He would be labeled a hero, as well as a genius, as his
foundation revealed one discovery after another. By the time he gifted
them with the new energy source, the whole country would be rallied
behind him. Anyone who was not could be dealt with by his loyal medical
staff, headed by his personal physician, Doctor Quinn, who would soon
master the technique of reprogramming such dissidents.
For years he
had dreamed of owning his own country, but his plans had never been
fully formulated due to the lack of desirable locations remaining in
the world. Now he saw his future clearly. What could be better than
taking over a modern, well-run country already established as one of
the world's leaders? The United States would soon be his for the
asking. After that, there would be no more asking, only commanding. The
skin of his great bald head tingled as he imagined the forthcoming
realization of his dreams.
He smiled at Delphina, and she blushed
beautifully. She probably sensed his welling excitement and understood
that, under different circumstances, he would have taken her then and
there, and without the help of any of her mental tricks.
"I believe
I have gathered as much information as I need at this time. Why don't
you take me to the mining camp you had told me about—Gladly? I'd like
to see where you were going to work." He hoped it would not take long
to obtain a few pounds of volterrin from the mine. Since he had no way
of knowing if it could be analyzed or reproduced in his world, he
wanted to take a large supply of the real thing with him—enough to help
his dream come true, without having to return to Innerworld for many
years.
The necessary travel time was an unavoidable hindrance. They
could reach Gladly instantaneously if they transmigrated there, but, to
his annoyance, he had learned that the rings only functioned outside of
Innerworld. To transmigrate from within the area, a person had to use
the migrator cells and that required a pass. Gordon opted against that
method. He wanted to attract as little attention as possible, until
they were ready to leave. A bit of forceful persuasion would
undoubtedly convince the technician to send them back to Alaska. The
fact that these people abhorred violence was definitely in his favor.
In
the meantime they had to travel by an alternative mode of
transportation. The airbus would take about two hours, but did not
require special permission.
This place made him uncomfortable, not
only because he was trespassing, but because he, Gordon Underwood, was
nobody special here. Also, he was anxious to get back and boast to
Nesterman. He was so pleased with himself, he might even forgive King
for his recent failures.
As they left the library, he gave a
moment's consideration to his captured alien, Falcon. He no longer had
any use for him. Perhaps he would give him to Doctor Quinn for one of
his experiments. Maybe even his first attempt at reprogramming. That
delightful thought made him laugh out loud. It would be the perfect end
to the creature who had caused him so much trouble.
Two days without
sleep and the last twelve hours without food were beginning to wear him
down, but he ignored his body's demands. He could always eat and sleep
tomorrow in Alaska.
In spite of the length of time it took to reach
Gladly, Gordon was impressed with the airbus. A wheelless vehicle, it
silently soared on a cushion of air at an incredible speed. He had not
been able to discern the change in scenery until they arrived at the
volterrin mining camp. Barren, there were only a handful of small
buildings and rows of the metallic structures Gordon had learned were
filters, which were each about four stories high and barely three
inches wide. What appeared to be metal wires were woven in hexagonal
configurations, giving the appearance of a cross section of a robotic
beehive. During the day the miners vacuumed and scraped the traps,
similar to beekeepers collecting honey. Underwood had learned from the
computer files that the Noromians had tried to use machines once, but
this was one process that man still performed more efficiently.
Unlike
honey however, the volterrin was of no use when taken directly out of
its hive. A machine similar to an atom smasher had to be used to
separate the element from the useless material surrounding it, and a
human was still required to operate the equipment.
Mindless of any injury he may have suffered, Steve gave his shoulders a
shake. His only response was another barely audible groan. She did what
she thought he would do. Her fingers made contact with his temple at
the same time as she brought his limp hand to her head. Falcon. Wake
up. We have to get out of here. I don't care if your neck's broken, you
wake up right this minute!
Falcon blinked rapidly several times, then grinned at her. You are improving, Steve.
She released his hand and gave him a kiss on the nose. "Good! Are you all right? Is anything broken?"
He
closed his eyes again, then shook his head and pulled himself upright.
"No, nothing broken. But your face is cut, and you still have glass in
your hair."
His fingers touched her cheek, but she could not allow
herself the pleasure of his concern or his touch. "That doesn't matter.
We have to get moving."
His eyes moved past her, growing wide when
he saw the flames, and he sprang to his feet. Just then a spark must
have found the trail of gasoline, because a line of fire spread rapidly
away from the crash site.
There was no need for words. He lifted
Nesterman, and they began running as fast as they could toward the
river, praying the fire did not entrap them.
Frantic animals
scurried through the brush beside them, more frightened by the threat
of fire than the strange humans in their midst. Birds screeched and
flapped wildly between the trees overhead. The creatures of the forest
instinctively headed for the safety of the water. When several deer
loped elegantly past at tremendous speed, Steve turned to look behind
her. Animals of all sorts and sizes were charging out of the rapidly
burning forest—wolves, mountain goats, porcupines—running in terror
from the wall of flames stalking them. The wind had joined the flight
to the river, carrying the fire along with it. They had to move faster.
In minutes they would be devoured by the rolling furnace.
Falcon
caught sight of a large bull moose crashing through the trees and held
out his hand to it. The monstrous animal slowed, started to pass, then
turned and approached his outstretched hand. The moose's hairy sides
heaved from the strain of running, his massive hooves pawed at the
ground, impatient to be off, but he allowed Falcon to touch him. A few
seconds later, he dipped his antlered head in acquiescence.
"He will
take us with him." The back of the moose was almost a foot over
Falcon's head, but he managed to heave Nesterman onto the animal's
hump. Making a hand stirrup, he gave Steve a leg up. With her
assistance, he hauled himself up behind her, then leaning them both
forward over Nesterman's body, Falcon reached around her to clutch the
hair on the moose's hump.
The beast took off with a tremendous lurch
that almost threw them off again. The roaring fire was gaining on the
herd of exhausted animals, but their lives depended on not giving up
the race. A brown grizzly bear rose on his hind legs and growled in
objection as they passed.
Steve thought every bone in her body was
being dislocated. She could hear the agonizing cries of slower animals
not far behind. The heat of the fire closed in on them; smoke obscured
the way ahead. The moose galloped through low-nanging tree limbs and
squashed anything foolish enough to be in his path. Several small
branches dangled from the fingers of his wide, palm-shaped antlers.
Finally, to protect herself from the limbs and pine needles beating at
her, she buried her face in Nesterman's back.
Splash! Steve's head
jerked up as her feet acknowledged that they had been dunked in icy
water. They had escaped! They were in the Yukon River.
Falcon squeezed Steve's waist as the moose paddled leisurely into deeper water. "Look behind us."
Hundreds
of animals survived the inferno the same way they had, and Steve smiled
when she recognized the big grizzly's head bobbing up and down. Most of
the creatures stayed near the shore, seemingly waiting for the fire to
give up so they could return to the forest.
Although quick, the fire
had been devastating. As it reached the shoreline, it sputtered and
died, but left scorched earth and smoldering, blackened trees behind.
These animals would have to seek out new habitats, but at least they
were alive.
The moose was anxious to be rid of his load as soon as
they reached the other side, and bucked several times before Falcon
could calm him again, he slid off the animal's back, helped Steve down,
then returned Nesterman to his shoulder. He was grateful that his
strength and endurance had increased before this part of his mission
began. With his free arm, he hugged Steve to his side.
Steve felt
numb from the waist down. For several minutes she simply let his body
heat seep into her. Finally her toes came back to life, and she was
able to stand on her own.
"How c-c-can you p-p-possibly be warm?" she asked through chattering teeth.
"I felt the cold water as you did. I simply did not permit my body to be discomfited by it."
"Of
c-c-course. How s-s-silly of me." She knew she had no reason to be
annoyed with him, but she couldn't help herself. The sun shone brightly
on her face, but the wind blowing against her wet clothes made her so
cold it was almost painful.
Falcon took her hand and started walking
along the shoreline, adjusting Nesterman over his shoulder. "Come, my
lady. Stay by my side and I will keep thee warm."
Steve wrinkled her
nose at him, then laughed at the sparkle in his eye. "I didn't realize
deadly adventures would put you in such a rare humor."
"Why not? We are alive, are we not?"
She paused to consider that a moment, then laughed again. "You're absolutely right."
A
glimpse of rooftops some distance away assured them they were heading
in the right direction. As they neared the bridge they had intended to
cross originally, it was not surprising to see the area alive with
activity. A fire engine, two police cars, and a variety of other
vehicles had collected at the edge of town. From the way everyone was
milling around, it appeared as though even the authorities were unsure
of what needed to be done now that the fire had burned itself out.
Steve
abruptly yanked Falcon away from the shoreline, back among the trees
where they would be camouflaged. "We can't let them see you."
It took Falcon a moment to comprehend. "Oh, yes. My eyes. Perhaps we could improvise a makeshift bandage and say I was injured."
She
shook her head as she scanned him from head to toe, looked down at
herself, then at Nesterman. Their coats and pants were torn; dried
blood marked their faces and hands where they had been cut by glass and
branches. The finishing touch was the layer of black soot clinging to
them from the waist up. Below that they were still dripping wet.
"Disguising
your eyes wouldn't solve the real problem. We both look like we barely
escaped with our lives, to say nothing of the unconscious man you just
happen to be lugging around. If we walk up there, they'll know we were
involved in the fire in some way, and the questions would begin.
Eventually I'll have to supply some of the answers, but now is not the
time, and I definitely don't want to explain who you are."
Falcon nodded. "If we can get to a telephone, we will have the assistance we need."
Fighting
their way through the tangle of overgrown bushes and fallen tree limbs,
they skirted the edge of the small town. The streets were fairly
deserted, due either to the fact that it was midday, or that everyone
was congregated by the river. Whatever the reason, it served to their
advantage when they came out from hiding.
Steve spotted a gas
station with a pay telephone, and they hurried toward it. "I hope your
friends will accept a collect call. I'm fresh out of change." After she
explained her comment to Falcon, she helped him make his call.
Although
the other party accepted the charges, Falcon seemed to be having a
difficult time convincing that person of their need to be rescued.
Steve watched him press a long sequence of numbers on the phone, then
hang up.
"I believe I reached an emissary who has been out of touch
for too long. The woman's name is Jenny. A baby was crying loudly in
the background, and her side of the conversation was very convoluted. I
gathered she could not act on her own. Her mate, George, is an
executive at an oil company in Fairbanks. She will call his office and
tell him our location. They are far from here, she said. It may be
quite a wait before he comes."
Steve put off calling Lou until such
time as she could give him precise directions to George and Jenny's
house so he could pick up Nesterman. Close to two hours passed before
George, Jenny, and the baby arrived at the gas station. Other than
identifying themselves, they were silent as they began the return trip
to Fairbanks.
Falcon saw no need for polite conversation either and
came right to the point. "It will be necessary for us to leave this man
with you until Steve's employer can arrange to have him picked up. I
have been keeping him asleep by suggestion, but if you wish to go along
with our story, he could be allowed to awaken once we reach your home.
We would also appreciate the loan of some clothing and the opportunity
to refresh ourselves. The real problem, however, is that we must return
to Innerworld as soon as possible, but my ring was stolen. I will need
to borrow yours."
Neither George nor Jenny answered, but a few
minutes after they left town, George pulled the car to the side of the
road and stopped. Slowly, he turned in the seat and pointed a small
pistol at Falcon's head.
"Listen, pal, I don't know who the hell you
are, or what you're talking about, so I don't expect we'll be helping
you go anywhere."
Chapter Nineteen
I am not now that which I have been. —George Gordon, Lord Byron
Steve gasped, her body instantly tensing at the sight of the weapon.I am not now that which I have been. —George Gordon, Lord Byron
Calm yourself, Steve. Look at his ring finger, Falcon ordered mentally.
George
was wearing an Innerworld ring. Steve sat back against the seat, but
could not completely relax, even though she felt no real danger
emanating from the man.
"You are wise to be skeptical under the
circumstances," Falcon told George. "You have my permission to touch my
mind to learn what you need to know."
George nodded at Jenny.
Shifting the sleeping baby from one shoulder to the other, she held out
two fingers and Falcon leaned forward so she could reach his temple. He
returned her gaze steadily, allowing her to see the physical proof of
the facts she was absorbing.
"Put away the gun, dear. He's half
felan. He knew you were suspicious, but not violent enough to harm
them. Falcon is an Innerworld tracker assigned to clear up all these
problems we've been having, although he has understandably withheld the
exact details of his mission from me." She nodded toward Steve. "She's
a Terran, but she's been helping him. He trusts her implicitly, so we
should, also."
George looked alarmed. He had lowered the gun but not
his guard. "A Terran and an alien empath working together for
Innerworld? Jenny, he has mental strength far beyond yours. What if he
withheld other important information just now, like he's been exiled?
The order that nobody was to use the transmigrator still stands. I will
not defy that order without more substantial authorization."
Falcon took a deep, slow breath. Steve could actually feel his frustration. She donned her puzzle-solving cap.
"Falcon, I remember you made contact with someone in San Francisco. Couldn't that person confirm who you are?"
Falcon
frowned slightly. "He would know even less than Jenny just learned."
Looking at George, he ventured, "Are communications with Monitor
Control still interrupted?"
George shook his head. "No. As a matter-of-fact they suddenly became fully operational again sometime during the night."
Falcon
glanced at Steve and blinked. About the time Underwood reprogrammed the
ring that was jamming the system. "Time is of extreme essence, but I do
not fault you for needing authorization. Please take us to your
residence and we will wait while you obtain approval to assist us. I
would suggest you address the message directly to Governor Romulus. The
mention of my name should get his immediate attention," Falcon
stated.
George's eyebrows raised slightly before he nodded his agreement and stepped on the gas.
Steve
no longer wondered at the fact that she was picking up on Falcon's
emotional state. What she could not figure out was why was he so
frustrated? Surely he wasn't worried about getting George's help. Even
she could tell the man was already convinced Falcon was on the level
and just wanted to get a proper okay. His worry was worrying her.
She reached for his hand and squeezed. When he turned to her, she gave him a quizzical look. What's wrong?
His
eyes registered his surprise. He had heard her without her touching his
temple, and she was hardly worked up. This mental business between them
was getting stranger all the time.
Threading his fingers through
hers, he let her share the cause of his concern. I told you I am able
to see things that have occurred before. The images fade continually as
time passes. After about twenty-four hours, they disappear completely.
It works the same way when I am tracking people. I can follow either
their brain pattern or their personal aura. Even when I was in
Underwood's house, I was not close enough to get a fix on his
brainwaves.
So that you understand the problem we will be facing,
you should note that Innerworld is about half the size of the United
States and has a population of almost twenty-five million. Since we
have no idea where Underwood is headed within the colony, I am counting
on the blackness of his aura to lead me to him once we get there. If
too much time goes by, my talents will not be of much use.
"Jenny, do you have the time?" Steve asked.
"It's
about three. Oh my, you're probably starving! Well, don't worry, we'll
be home within the hour and get the both of you fed and cleaned up
before you leave." She was anxious to make up for her mate's
stubbornness since she had no doubt whatsoever about the integrity of
the handsome man in the back seat.
"That would be very nice, thank
you." Steve smiled gratefully, then tried sending another thought to
Falcon. How long has it been?
When I said you were improving, that
was a gross understatement. Are you doing anything differently to
enable me to hear your thoughts so clearly?
Not that I can tell. It's just happening like the feelings. What about the time?
It
is hard to calculate. It was night when I arrived in Alaska, but I do
not know the exact time. It has probably been between twelve and
fourteen hours already.
Geez! Maybe well luck out and someone will have stopped Underwood the second he appeared in Innerworld.
I
do not believe we can depend on that any more than the possibility that
he crossed Romulus's or Aster's paths. They are the only two who would
recognize him on sight. I do not dare send any specific alert about
Underwood over the open transmission system, but I will have George
warn Romulus to expect our arrival with another problem.
So, thought
Gordon Underwood as he read the data on the monitor, the alien who had
escaped from his Nevada hospital six months ago had since become the
leader of his people. "Governor" Romulus, they called him. The big
shock though was that his co-governor and mate was the woman who had
been with him at the time. It did not sit well with Gordon that he had
dismissed her as decoration. She had apparently been instrumental in
the man's mysterious disappearance. There was no time today for
self-recrimination or righting yesterday's mistakes. Perhaps another
time he would find a way to pay them back for the inconveniences they
caused him, but not today.
Delphina sat quietly next to him as he
perused several more files of Innerworld current events. He found
himself chuckling when he realized how drastically Nesterman had
disrupted Innerworld's mundane routine with his random fumblings. All
things considered, the people here should be grateful to him. It didn't
look as though much of anything happened from one year to the next. The
change of leadership and surprising pronouncement that the woman, Aster
Mackenzie, possessed a drop or two of Noronian blood were the only
other big news items recently. He supposed if he researched back into
their history he would find upheaval, scientific and medical
discoveries, and so forth, but, again, there was insufficient time for
such leisurely reading.
He had had no idea what to expect when they
had arrived. The transmigration itself was miraculous. A man stationed
at a control panel had merely shaken his head in disgust as he and
Delphina exited the glass-walled unit. They hadn't even had to
fabricate an explanation. The man had said, "Don't tell me. Emergency.
Governor Romulus." Gordon had nodded and the man waved them on. The
people here were obviously rather complacent about security, much to
his satisfaction.
He had asked Delphina how he might get answers to
some of his questions about her world, and she had taken him to a
library. He had soon discovered there was very little information he
could not access through one of the many computer terminals available
there, and he had set to work immediately. His photographic memory
automatically stored volumes of facts and formulas. He had only needed
to make a few written notations regarding the most complex data.
He
had learned how the Noronians traveled across the universe in
remarkably short periods of time, and that a gram of the rare dustlike
substance, volterrin, which Delphina had mentioned, produced sufficient
energy to run New York City for a year.
The cure to cancer and other
deadly diseases were child's play compared to some of their other
achievements in the field of medicine. Genetic engineering had been
outlawed—after they had perfected it, and the dead could be brought
back to life.
The human brain held no more mysteries for these
people. One mind could communicate with another. With reprogramming, a
man's memory could be completely erased and replaced with new thoughts.
That, Underwood realized, was the secret to their boring, regulated
society. Crime did not exist because criminal behavior was not
tolerated. The offender was altered to fit the accepted norm.
Therefore, Underwood knew he had to return to his own, familiar world.
Sooner or later, if he stayed here, he would be found and destroyed
like a defective piece of equipment.
He had not located the exact
code, but he was certain he had enough information to figure out
eventually how to access the Innerworld data banks out of his own home.
The ring was the key, and now he had two. He had no doubt that
Nesterman would be cooperative once he was given a taste of the
fountain of wisdom. If not, he would have King eliminate him. He
probably should anyway, considering his ultimate plans.
When he
returned to the earth's surface, it would be with a wealth of knowledge
that would ensure him the position of power he had always craved.
Possessing Delphina was an unexpected bonus.
Another thing he had
made note of was the Noronians' use of holography. They were in the
inner core of the earth and yet, outside of the buildings, it actually
looked like they were outdoors. There was a lavender sky and a huge,
bright orange sun with a white ring around it. He would make use of the
technique to improve living conditions in his underground facility in
Nevada.
He intended to introduce his incredible medical discoveries
to the public slowly. Altruism and the betterment of mankind had no
place in his scheme, but the citizens of the United States did not need
to know that. He would be labeled a hero, as well as a genius, as his
foundation revealed one discovery after another. By the time he gifted
them with the new energy source, the whole country would be rallied
behind him. Anyone who was not could be dealt with by his loyal medical
staff, headed by his personal physician, Doctor Quinn, who would soon
master the technique of reprogramming such dissidents.
For years he
had dreamed of owning his own country, but his plans had never been
fully formulated due to the lack of desirable locations remaining in
the world. Now he saw his future clearly. What could be better than
taking over a modern, well-run country already established as one of
the world's leaders? The United States would soon be his for the
asking. After that, there would be no more asking, only commanding. The
skin of his great bald head tingled as he imagined the forthcoming
realization of his dreams.
He smiled at Delphina, and she blushed
beautifully. She probably sensed his welling excitement and understood
that, under different circumstances, he would have taken her then and
there, and without the help of any of her mental tricks.
"I believe
I have gathered as much information as I need at this time. Why don't
you take me to the mining camp you had told me about—Gladly? I'd like
to see where you were going to work." He hoped it would not take long
to obtain a few pounds of volterrin from the mine. Since he had no way
of knowing if it could be analyzed or reproduced in his world, he
wanted to take a large supply of the real thing with him—enough to help
his dream come true, without having to return to Innerworld for many
years.
The necessary travel time was an unavoidable hindrance. They
could reach Gladly instantaneously if they transmigrated there, but, to
his annoyance, he had learned that the rings only functioned outside of
Innerworld. To transmigrate from within the area, a person had to use
the migrator cells and that required a pass. Gordon opted against that
method. He wanted to attract as little attention as possible, until
they were ready to leave. A bit of forceful persuasion would
undoubtedly convince the technician to send them back to Alaska. The
fact that these people abhorred violence was definitely in his favor.
In
the meantime they had to travel by an alternative mode of
transportation. The airbus would take about two hours, but did not
require special permission.
This place made him uncomfortable, not
only because he was trespassing, but because he, Gordon Underwood, was
nobody special here. Also, he was anxious to get back and boast to
Nesterman. He was so pleased with himself, he might even forgive King
for his recent failures.
As they left the library, he gave a
moment's consideration to his captured alien, Falcon. He no longer had
any use for him. Perhaps he would give him to Doctor Quinn for one of
his experiments. Maybe even his first attempt at reprogramming. That
delightful thought made him laugh out loud. It would be the perfect end
to the creature who had caused him so much trouble.
Two days without
sleep and the last twelve hours without food were beginning to wear him
down, but he ignored his body's demands. He could always eat and sleep
tomorrow in Alaska.
In spite of the length of time it took to reach
Gladly, Gordon was impressed with the airbus. A wheelless vehicle, it
silently soared on a cushion of air at an incredible speed. He had not
been able to discern the change in scenery until they arrived at the
volterrin mining camp. Barren, there were only a handful of small
buildings and rows of the metallic structures Gordon had learned were
filters, which were each about four stories high and barely three
inches wide. What appeared to be metal wires were woven in hexagonal
configurations, giving the appearance of a cross section of a robotic
beehive. During the day the miners vacuumed and scraped the traps,
similar to beekeepers collecting honey. Underwood had learned from the
computer files that the Noromians had tried to use machines once, but
this was one process that man still performed more efficiently.
Unlike
honey however, the volterrin was of no use when taken directly out of
its hive. A machine similar to an atom smasher had to be used to
separate the element from the useless material surrounding it, and a
human was still required to operate the equipment.
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