Complete Short Fiction (Jerry eBooks)

by James H. Schmitz

  “So rarely that there’s no reason to worry about them?”

  Boddo scratched his cheek, observed, “The Service doesn’t regard an unpredictable as a cause for serious concern.”

  II

  Scowling with concentration, Telzey Amberdon sat, eyes closed, knees drawn up and arms locked about them, on the couch-bed in her side of duplex bungalow 18-19, Student Court Ninety-two, of Pehanron College. When she’d looked over last at the rose-glowing pointers of a wall clock on the opposite side of the room, they told her there wasn’t much more than an hour left before Orado’s sun would rise. That meant she had been awake all night, though she was only now beginning to feel waves of drowsiness.

  Except for the glow from the clock, the room was dark, its windows shielded. She had thought of turning on lights, but there was a chance that a spot check by the college’s automatic monitors would record the fact; and then Miss Eulate, the Senior Counselor of Section Ninety-two, was likely to show up during the morning to remind Telzey that a fifteen-year-old girl, even if she happened to be a privileged Star Honor Student, simply must get in her full and regular sleep periods.

  It would be inconvenient just now if such an admonishment was accompanied by a suspension of honor-student privileges. So the lights stayed out. Light, after all, wasn’t a requirement in sitting there and probing about in an unsuspecting fellow-creature’s mind, which was what Telzey had been engaged in during the night.

  If the mind being probed had known what was going on, it might have agreed with Miss Eulate. But it didn’t. It was the mind of a very large dog named Chomir, owned by Gonwil Lodis who occupied the other side of the duplex and was Telzey’s best college friend, though her senior by almost four years.

  Both Gonwil and Chomir were asleep, but Chomir slept fitfully. He was not given to prolonged concentration on any one subject, and for hours Telzey had kept him wearily half dreaming, over and over, about certain disturbing events which he hadn’t really grasped when they occurred. He passed most of the night in a state of vague irritation, though his inquisitor was careful not to let the feeling become acute enough to bring him awake.

  It wasn’t pleasant for Telzey either. Investigating that section of Chomir’s mind resembled plodding about in a dark swamp agitated by violent convulsions and covered by a smothering fog. From time to time, it became downright nerve-racking as blasts of bewildered fury were transmitted to her with firsthand vividness out of the animal’s memories. The frustrating side of it, however, was that the specific bits of information for which she searched remained obscured by the blurry, sporadic, nightmarish reliving which seemed to be the only form in which those memories could be made to show up just now. And it was extremely important to get the information because she suspected Chomir’s experiences might mean that somebody was planning the deliberate murder of Gonwil Lodis.

  She had got into the investigation almost by accident. Gonwil was one of the very few persons to whom Telzey had mentioned anything about her recently acquired ability to pry into other minds, and she had been on a walk with Chomir in the wooded hills above Pehanron College during the afternoon. Without apparent cause, Chomir suddenly had become angry, stared and sniffed about for a moment, then plunged bristling and snarling into the bushes. His mistress sprinted after him in high alarm, calling out a warning to anyone within earshot, because Chomir, though ordinarily a very well-mannered beast, was physically capable of taking a human being or somebody else’s pet dog apart in extremely short order. But she caught up with him within a few hundred yards and discovered that his anger appeared to have spent itself as quickly as it had developed. Instead, he was acting now in an oddly confused and worried manner.

  Gonwil thought he might have scented a wild animal. But his behavior remained a puzzle—Chomir had always treated any form of local wildlife they encountered as being beneath his notice. Half seriously, since she wasn’t entirely convinced of Telzey’s mind-reading ability, Gonwil suggested she might use it to find out what had disturbed him; and Telzey promised to try it after lights-out when Chomir had settled down to sleep. It would be her first attempt to study a canine mind.

  Chomir turned out to be readily accessible to a probe, much more so than the half-dozen nontelepathic human minds Telzey had looked into so far, where many preliminary hours of search had been needed to pick up an individual’s thought patterns and get latched solidly into them. With Chomir she was there in around thirty minutes. For a while, most of what she encountered appeared grotesquely distorted and incomprehensible; then something like a translating machine in Telzey’s brain, which was the xenotelepathic ability, suddenly clicked in, and she found herself beginning to change the dog’s sleep impressions into terms which had a definite meaning to her. It was a little like discovering the key to the operation of an unfamiliar machine. She spent an hour investigating and experimenting with a number of its mechanisms; then, deciding she could control Chomir satisfactorily for her purpose, she shifted his thoughts in the direction of what had happened that afternoon.

  Around an hour or so later again, she stopped to give them both a rest.

  The event in the hills didn’t look any less mystifying now, but it had begun to acquire definitely sinister overtones. If Chomir had known of the concept of unreality, he might have applied it to what had occurred. He had realized suddenly and with a blaze of rage that somewhere nearby was a man whom he remembered from a previous meeting as representing a great danger to Gonwil. He had rushed into the woods with every intention of tearing off the man’s head, but then the fellow suddenly was gone again.

  That was what had left Chomir in a muddled and apprehensive frame of mind. The man had both been there, and somehow not been there. Chomir felt approximately as a human being might have felt after an encounter with a menacing phantom which faded into thin air almost as soon as it was noticed. Telzey then tried to bring the earlier meeting with the mysterious stranger into view; but here she ran into so much confusion and fury that she got no clear details. There were occasional impressions of white walls—perhaps a large, white-walled room—and of a narrow-faced man, who somehow managed to stay beyond the reach of Chomir’s teeth.

  By that time, Telzey felt somewhat disturbed. Something out of the ordinary clearly had happened. And supposing the narrow-faced stranger did spell danger to Gonwil.

  Gonwil had told her, laughing, not believing a word of it, a story she’d been hearing herself since she was a child: how on Tayun, the planet from which she had come to Orado to be a student at Pehanron, there were people who had been responsible for the death of her parents when she was less than a year old, and who intended eventually to kill Gonwil as the final act of revenge for some wrong her father supposedly had done.

  Tayun appeared to have a well-established vendetta tradition, so the story might not be completely impossible. But as Gonwil told it, it did seem very unlikely.

  On the other hand, who else could have any possible reason for wanting to harm Gonwil?

  The instant she asked herself the question, Telzey felt a flick of alarmed shock. Because now that the possibility had occurred to her, she could answer the question immediately. She knew a group of people who might very well want to harm Gonwil, not as an act of vendetta but for the simple and logical reason that it would be very much to their material benefit if Gonwil died within the next few months.

  She sat still a while, barely retaining her contacts with Chomir while she turned the thought around, considered it and let it develop. If she was right, this was an extremely ugly thing, and she could see nothing to indicate she was wrong.

  Late last summer she had been invited to spend a few days with Gonwil as house guests of a lady who was Gonwil’s closest living relative and a very dear friend, and who would be on Orado with her family for a short stay before returning to Tayun. Socially speaking, the visit was not a complete success though Gonwil remained unaware of it. Telzey and the Parlin family—father, mother, and son—formed strong fee
lings of mutual dislike almost at sight, but stayed polite about it. Malrue Parlin was a handsome, energetic woman, who completely overshadowed her husband and son. She’d been almost excessively affectionate towards Gonwil.

  It was Malrue, from what Telzey had heard, who had always been deeply concerned that the hypothetical vendettists might catch up with Gonwil some day . . .

  When his parents left, Parlin Junior remained on Orado with the avowed intention of winning Gonwil over to the idea of becoming his bride. Gonwil, though moderately fond of Junior, didn’t care for the idea. But, more from fear of hurting Malrue’s feelings than his, she’d been unable to bring herself to brush Junior off with sufficient firmness. At least, he’d kept returning.

  And the thing, Telzey thought, it never had occurred to Gonwil, or to her, to speculate about was that Gonwil had inherited a huge financial fortune which Malrue Parlin was effectively controlling at present, and which she would go on controlling if Junior’s suit was successful . . . or again if Gonwil happened to die before she came of age, which she would in just three months time.

  In spite of Gonwil’s diffidence in handling Junior, it must have become clear to both Junior and his mother some while ago that the marriage plan had fizzled.

  One somehow didn’t consider that people one had met, even if one hadn’t liked them, might be planning murder. It seemed too unnatural. But murder was in fact the most common of major crimes anywhere in the Hub, and it was general knowledge that the more sophisticated murderers quite regularly escaped retribution. The Federation’s legal code made no more than a gesture of attempting to cope with them. It was a structure of compromises in everything but its essentials, with the primary purpose of keeping six hundred billion human beings living in more than a thousand semiautonomous sun systems away from wholesale conflicts while the area of generally accepted lawful procedure and precedent was slowly but steadily extended. In that, it was surprisingly effective. But meanwhile individual citizens could suddenly find themselves in situations where Federation Law told them in effect that it could do nothing and advised them to look out for themselves.

  Murder, aside from its more primitive forms, frequently provided such a situation. There was a legal term for it, with a number of semilegal implications. It was “private war.”

  Telzey’s impulse was to wake up Gonwil and tell her what had occurred to her. But she rejected the idea. She had only her report of Chomir’s experiences to add to things Gonwil already knew; and so far those experiences proved nothing even if Gonwil didn’t assume they existed in Telzey’s imagination rather than in Chomir’s memory. She would be incapable of accepting, even theoretically, that Malrue might want her dead; and in attempting to disprove it, she might very well do something that would precipitate the danger.

  The thing to go for first was more convincing evidence of danger. Telzey returned her attention to Chomir.

  Near morning, she acknowledged to herself she would get no further with the dog. He was responding more and more sluggishly and vaguely to her prods. She’d caught glimpses enough meanwhile to know his memory did hold evidence that wickedness of some kind was being brewed, but that was all. The animal mind couldn’t co-operate any longer.

  She should let Chomir rest for some hours at least. After he was fresh again, she might get at what she wanted without much trouble.

  She eased off her contacts with his mind, drew away from it, felt it fade from her awareness. She opened her eyes again, yawned, sighed, reached over to the end of the couch and poked at the window-control shielding. The room’s window’s appeared in the far wall, the shrubbery of the tiny bungalow garden swaying softly in the predawn quiet of the student court. Telzey turned bleary eyes towards the wall clock.

  In an hour and a half, her father would be at his office in Orado City. The city was just under an hour away by aircar, and she’d have to get his advice and assistance in this matter at once. If Gonwil’s death was planned, the time set for it probably wasn’t many days away. Malrue and her husband were supposed to be on their way back to Orado for another of their annual visits, and Chomir’s hated acquaintance had turned up again yesterday. The danger period could be expected with Malrue’s arrival.

  By the time she’d showered, dressed and breakfasted, she found herself waking up again. Sunshine had begun to edge into the court. Telzey glanced at her watch, slipped on a wrist-talker, clipped her scintillating Star Honor Student pass to her hat, and poked at the duplex’s interphone buzzer.

  After some seconds, Gonwil’s voice came drowsily from the instrument. “Uh . . . who . . .”

  “Me.”

  “Oh . . . Whyya up so early?”

  “It’s broad daylight,” Telzey said. “Listen, I’m flying in to Orado City to see my father. I’m starting right now. If anyone is interested, tell them I’ll be back for lunch, or I’ll call in.”

  “Right.” Gonwil yawned audibly.

  “I was wondering,” Telzey went on. “When did you say Mr. and Mrs. Parlin are due to land?”

  “Day after tomorrow . . . last I heard from Junior. Why?”

  “Got anything planned for the first part of the holidays?”

  “Well, just to stay away from Sonny somehow. He heard about the holidays.”

  “I’ve thought of something that will do exactly that,” Telzey said.

  “Fine!” Gonwil said heartily. “What?”

  “Tell you when I get back. You’re free to leave after lunch, aren’t you?”

  Gonwil clucked doubtfully, “There’re six more test tapes I’ll have to clean up, and Finance Eleven is a living stinker! I think I can do it. I’ll get at it right away . . . Hey, wait a minute! Did you find out anything about . . . uh, well, yesterday?”

  “We’re started on it.” Telzey said. “But I didn’t really find out much.”

  In the carport back of the duplex, she eased herself into the driver’s seat of a tiny Cloudsplitter and turned it into an enclosed ground traffic lane. The Star Honor Student pass got her through one of Pehanron’s guard-screen exits without question: and a minute later the little car was air-borne, streaking off towards the east.

  Twenty miles on, Telzey checked the time again, set the Cloudsplitter to home in on one of Orado City’s major traffic arteries, and released its controls. Her father should be about ready to leave his hotel by now. She dialed his call number on the car’s communicator and tapped in her personal symbol.

  Gilas Amberdon responded promptly. He had been, he acknowledged, about ready to leave; and yes, he would be happy to see her at his office in around forty-five minutes. What was it about?

  “Something to do with xenotelepathy,” Telzey said cautiously.

  “Let’s hear it.” His voice had changed tone only slightly.

  “That would take a little time, Gilas.”

  “I can spare the time.”

  He listened without comment while he told him about her attempt to explore Chomir’s memories, what she seemed to have found, and what she was concluding from it. It would be easy to persuade Gonwil to keep out of sight for a day or two, with the idea of avoiding Junior; after that, her loyalty to Malrue might create additional problems.

  Gilas remained silent for a little after she finished. Then he said, “I’ll do two things immediately, Telzey.”

  “Yes?”

  “I’ll have the Kyth Agency send over an operator to discuss the matter—Dasinger, if he’s available. If your mysterious stranger is remaining in the vicinity of Pehanron College, the agency should be able to establish who he is and what he’s up to. Finding him might not he the most important thing, of course.”

  Telzey felt a surge of relief. “You do think Malrue Parlin—”

  “We should have some idea about that rather soon. The fact is simply that if the situation between Gonwil and the Parlins is as you’ve described it in respect to the disposal of her holdings in case of death, it demands a close investigation in itself. Mrs. Parlin, while she isn’t in the
big leagues yet, is considered one of the sharper financial operators on Tayun.”

  “Gonwil says she’s really brilliant.”

  “She might be,” Gilas said. “In any case, we’ll have a check started to determine whether there have been previous suggestions of criminality connected with her operations. We’ll act meanwhile on the assumption that the danger exists and is imminent. Your thought of getting Gonwil away from the college for a couple of days, or until we see the situation more clearly, is a very good one. We’ll discuss it when you get here.”

  “All right.”

  “I don’t quite see,” Gilas went on, “how we’re going to explain what we want done in the matter of the man the dog’s run into twice without revealing something of your methods of investigation.”

  “No. I thought of that.”

  He hesitated. “Well, Dasinger’s agency is commendably close-mouthed about its clients’ affairs. The information shouldn’t go any further. Are you coming in your own car?”

  “Yes.”

  “Set it down on my private flange then. Ravia will take you through to the office.”

  III

  Switching off the communicator, Telzey glanced at her watch. For the next thirty minutes, the Cloudsplitter would continue on automatic towards one of the ingoing Orado City air lanes. After it swung into the lane, she would make better time by taking over the controls. Meanwhile, she could catch up on some of the sleep she’d lost.

  She settled back comfortably in the driver’s seat and closed her eyes.

  At once a figure which gave the impression of hugeness began to appear in her mind. Telzey flinched irritably. It had been over a week since the Psionic Cop last came climbing out of her unconscious to lecture her; she’d begun to hope she was finally rid of him. But he was back, a giant with a stern metallic face, looking halfway between one of the less friendly Orado City air patrolmen and the humanized type of robot. In a moment, he’d start warning her again that she was engaging in activities which could lead only to serious trouble.