Rescue from the Planet of the Amartos

by Dale Olausen

  When she was satisfied with the image she commanded herself to be there.

  "I did it!"

  She was amazed that it was so easy! She was sitting in the exact spot in which she had imagined herself to be! The room was just as she had expected to find it; only the usual litter of drained coffee cups and other beverage containers was strangely missing. Then she realized that the room was dim with no more than a couple of lights burning. It was night-time in the world outside the mountain and the Beth's crew would be fast asleep.

  That meant that she would have to wake somebody up. Who?

  Ginette was her choice. Ginette was calm and sensible. She would be unlikely to lose her cool even when faced by a free-floating ghost. She would be able to think of what to do.

  Sarah floated out of the lounge and down a dim hallway to the door of the navigator's sleeping cubicle. She got a thrill from being able to pass through the closed door and immediately felt like an oaf to be violating a shipmate's privacy in this manner. However, she was not in a position to afford scruples.

  Determinedly, she "sat" down on the edge of Ginette's bed and began to mindspeak: "Ginette! Wake up! Wake up!" she commanded. Nothing happened. The navigator slept on peacefully.

  Sarah repeated the command. There was no result.

  She tried a third time, trying to put as much force into the words as she could. It was useless. She would have to do what she had tried to do with the adolescent alien inside the cavern. The idea of invading the mental space of someone she knew was repulsive, but it looked like she did not have any choice. Perhaps she could get into the other woman's dream, and draw her out of it and into wakefulness. Grimly she willed herself to enter inside Ginette's mind.

  "What?"

  The sensation was akin to crashing against a brick wall. The force of the impact pushed Sarah back all the way into the hallway. She felt no pain, not being physical, but her mind reeled.

  Slowly, she gathered her wits about her and decided to try again. She entered Ginette's cubicle once more and, without giving herself the opportunity for second thoughts, dove for the other woman's sleeping mind over again.

  This time the recoil was even worse because she had put more mental energy into the attempt. Reassembling her scattered thoughts in the corridor, Sarah conceded defeat.

  Ginette was beyond her reach. She would have to try someone else.

  She chose Jodi and swiftly floated to where that young woman slept, rehearsing the words that she would speak to her as soon as she was awake. Only, Jodi, too stayed stubbornly asleep. And when Sarah tried to force entrance into her mind the result was the exact repetition of the experience with Ginette.

  Upset but determined, Sarah tried, in turn, to reach the mind of every Explorer aboard the Beth. Each attempt was met with the same result: she could not awaken the person, nor could she penetrate his or her mind directly. There was no dislodging the block that was keeping her at bay.

  When even Cherrie proved to be beyond her mental reach, Sarah had to concede defeat. She returned to the dim lounge feeling frustrated and hopeless. The only person whom she had not tried to reach was Roger. She had taken a quick peek into his sleeping quarters to see if he was there - he was - but beyond that she had ignored his presence. Even if she could bring herself to beg him for help, he was not likely to give her any, she thought. And there was no-one else left to ask.

  The familiar room suddenly seemed stifling. Her defeat hung in the air; she thought she could have smelled it, if she had a nose to smell with. "I want out," she said to herself, and the thought had barely formed when she found that she had been propelled out of the ship and back into the planet night. Hovering formlessly above the ledge upon which the Beth sat she longed for vocal chords with which to cry out her anguish.

  "It's not impossible! You can do it, Sarah!"

  The words out of the dream were back but now they sounded like a mockery. Yet they would not let her be! They kept echoing through her sense of frustration.

  "It's not impossible, Sarah! You can do it!" All right then! There had to be a way! She pulled her thoughts and emotions around; refocused them. There had to be something that she could do to help herself! Somebody had to help her do it! There had to be someone!

  "I hear you, little one."

  The words came as such a shock to Sarah that for a moment her formless mind bounced up and down foolishly beside the Beth. They were accompanied by a distinct chuckle – that prompted Sarah to force herself to stay still.

  "Do you realize what a spectacle you're making of yourself?" the voice asked her.

  Sarah endured its amused, paternal tone. She was in no position to worry about any bruising that her ego might have to take. Perhaps the owner of the voice was willing to help her. She waited in silence for further words.

  "You have started a great conflagration, little one," continued the voice. "You must go back and damp it. It has already announced its presence - and yours - to those who are a threat to you, and the world in which you live."

  "What? I don't understand." Sarah was aghast.

  "As far as I can tell there are two groups eyeing you, little one. One of them is definitely hostile. The other one shields itself well."

  Sarah felt sick. "What can I do?" she asked.

  "To start with, don't think the thoughts of a weakling."

  Sarah felt as startled as if she had unexpectedly had her knuckles rapped. She performed the mental equivalent of snapping to attention.

  "Yes, sir," she replied sharply.

  "Good." The owner of the voice did not react to her ire at all. "Now. You will return to your body inside the cave. You already know how to mindtravel so that will be easy. Then you must damp the gem fires. You cannot quench them altogether now that they have been lit, but you must will them down as far as you can. After that is done, choose a single one of the stones as yours to work with. Let it burn just a little more brightly than the others. It will be the link between your mind and mine, and unlike two dozen stones afire, it will not be easy for your enemies to locate.

  "I will come to you in my physical form and lead you out from the mountain. That is the easiest way - do not worry about time. There is enough of that. The sightless ones always have their feast and voice-sleep before they burn their sacrifices."

  "All right." Sarah was determined to stay calm and strong, and to do everything as she had been instructed.

  "Good. I will be in touch with you as soon as you are done."

  Returning into her body was easy. She simply imagined it as she had last seen it when, as a free-floating mind, she had hovered above the platform in the centre of the cavern.

  As soon as she was once again in that position she willed herself to be back in that forlorn, pitiful physical thing - she did not hesitate for fear that if she thought about it for too long she would not want to do it at all!

  The shock of returning to physical reality was almost more than she could handle. Her body was in such a horrible state: muscles were painfully cramped, her eyes burned from staring into the amarto-fire, her throat was dry with thirst and her stomach rumbled with hunger. But she had to ignore all that; there was work to do. She had to stem the flames of the witch-fire.

  The stranger who had promised to help her had told her to will the fires down. How was that done, she wondered. Especially when she was feeling so exhausted and sick now that she was back in her body. Did she have the will left to do anything?

  The stranger had said that already the witch-fire had announced her presence to some hostile observers. She had to get the blaze down before something worse than what had already happened took place!

  Imagination! She would try that trick again!

  She reopened her sore eyes and stared at the Witches’ Stones scattered on the floor. She tried to recall them as they had been when she had first seen them: dull pebbles lying on the rock, worthless rubbish as far as she had been concerned. There - she had the image in her mind; for a moment it waver
ed, then held firm. She concentrated on it even as she stared at the flaming stones; she felt her will growing stronger and poured all of it into the resolve to see not what was in front of her eyes, but what had been there earlier. The Witches’ Stones were pebbles, just pebbles, nothing more.

  At last she closed her eyes. She let her tensed muscles relax, almost welcoming the drained feeling that followed. For a moment she was afraid to reopen her eyes to look if she had succeeded but the urgency of the situation was a prod.

  "Whew!" Her ploy had worked! On the platform floor lay a collection of dull green stones. They were not quite the pebbles that she had first seen - in the heart of each one there still shone a tiny spark of light. But the approximation was close enough; she could not do any better.

  "Choose a single one of the stones as yours to work with," the stranger had bidden her. "Let it burn just a little more brightly than the others."

  One amarto lay somewhat apart from the others. It was a small, unremarkable pebble - but Sarah fancied it somehow. She felt drawn to it, as if it was in some manner a part of her being.

  "It's the one for me," she murmured, fixing her gaze on it. "Burn just a little more brightly," she whispered to it. The spark in the heart of the stone began to grow. It expanded into a long glowing gold thread which curled around inside the stone, getting brighter all the time. Suddenly one end leaped outside, waving unexpectedly in Sarah's direction.

  "No, no!" the girl cried, her voice hoarse. "Not nearly so bright!"

  Obediently the golden flame withdrew into the green jewel and coiled in on itself until it was only a small glow in the centre of the Witches' Stone. Staring at it Sarah had the uncanny feeling that it was like a powerful spring, compressed but ready to uncoil at her wish.

  "Yes. That's better."

  "Right, little one. That's it." The now familiar voice did not startle her this time. "You have done well. You learn fast. That is very fortunate."

  Sarah was barely listening. Her exhaustion and discomfort had taken over as the most urgent problems she had at the moment.

  "Rest now, little one," the voice said in a kindly fashion. "There's much ahead of you yet."

  The voice disappeared and with it, to Sarah's amazement, her hunger, thirst, aches and pains. Even her tiredness seemed to have abated. Only a profound sleepiness was left.

  Thankfully she took one glance at the Witches' Stone that she was already thinking of as "hers". Then she drifted off to sleep.

  Chapter Ten

  The persistent buzzing of an alarm jarred the sleeper awake. Groggily, he reached for a lever on the bedside panel and jammed it down. The buzzing continued undisturbed. He pushed away the covers, cursing viciously and sat up in the bed. He rubbed his bleary eyes.

  His eyes fell on an angry red light that flashed insistently on the alarm panel.

  "What the - ?" Instantly he was fully awake. One leap and he was out of bed, striding across the bedroom, through the living room and into the small communications room beyond. Here, an even brighter red light flashed and another alarm buzzed, louder than the first. With a flick of a switch he put an end to the sound and sat down at a keyboard. His fingers flew over the keys and he spoke into a concealed microphone.

  "Coryn Leigh here," he snapped. "Emergency acknowledged. Identify yourself please." He threw an inquiring glance at a viso-screen which remained blank. Whoever had awakened him evidently did not want to be seen.

  "Alta of Kordea speaking." A woman's voice, very matter-of-fact.

  The eyebrows of the man at the keyboard shot up. "What can I do for you, Witch Alta?" he asked, suddenly courteous.

  "There's trouble," the Witch replied. Coryn thought she sounded hesitant. That was not surprising; the Kordean Witches did not trust Terrans. So what had driven them to contact him?

  "A huge, uncontrolled blaze of stone fire has been detected on a certain world at the edge of the galaxy," the Witch Alta explained.

  "What? Are you serious?"

  "Do you think that I would have bothered to contact you if I wasn't?" The Witch sounded irate.

  "Of course, of course - I mean - " Coryn shook his head. The Kordean Witches had a way of getting to him. "I'm shocked, that's all," he tried to explain lamely.

  "Is it The Organization?" he asked, chewing on his lip as he waited for the answer.

  The Terra Confederation and its membership recognized only one threat to their way of life. That threat they referred to as The Organization.

  The roots of The Organization went back as far as those of the Terra Confederation. After the colonization of the galaxy by the upstart race from the Planet Earth had become a reality, it had been necessary to decide on a form of government that would bind the far-flung colonies together. Most of the Terrans, as they had come to call themselves, wanted a loose organization that would allow each colonized planet to retain as much autonomy as was possible. They opted to form a Confederation with a Central Government to look after those aspects of galaxy-wide existence that had to be handled by a central authority; otherwise the members were free to run their planetside affairs as they pleased.

  However, at the time the choice was made, a very vocal minority of people who thought otherwise had surfaced. These Terrans had wanted to see a mighty empire that spanned thousands of light-years, instead of a loose Confederation. They had gone so far as to take up arms for their cause, and to try to force the majority to bend to their will, but, since they were such a small minority, the attempt had come to naught. The attackers had been soundly thrashed.

  But the membership of the newly formed Confederation could not agree to execute the ringleaders, so they were not eliminated. Exiled to a remote corner of the galaxy, they had survived and multiplied, the descendants of the original group still clinging stubbornly to the old dream. They believed that the rest of the Terran race had become soft and degenerate, and that the whole of the galaxy rightfully belonged to them. To this end they continuously schemed, by fair means and foul, to reclaim their birthright.

  The Confederation Government had founded its own force called the Agency to meet this threat. It was primarily a counterintelligence network, functioning within the Confederation to uncover and thwart Organization plots. The task was made the more difficult by the members' tendency to down play the threat and take their rights and freedoms for granted. An arm of the Agency also existed to keep tabs on the doings in The Organization's own corner of the galaxy.

  Recently, the Agency had discovered that The Organization scientists were doing research with amartos. Rumour had it that they had succeeded in developing a machine that was capable of amplifying the ESP-enhancing powers of a single amarto by a hundredfold. Coryn Leigh, as an Agency employee working on the amarto-angle, was in a position to know that there was basis to the rumour.

  "No, we don't think so. Not yet."

  Coryn heaved a sigh of relief.

  "What happened," the Witch explained, "is that we found out that there were Stones on that particular planet. We decided that it was prudent to send a Terran ship for them instead of trying to far-fetch."

  Coryn nodded his head vigorously. So the crones had heeded his warning after all!

  When he had argued his way into Ferhil Stones and insisted that somebody listen to what he had to say about The Organization's experiments with amartos, there had been no indication that the Witches were concerned in the least. However, if they had chosen to hide their disquiet, they must have been worried that somebody could well be watching - and taking notes.

  "We're sure that no one in the crew of the Explorer ship that is looking for the amartos is Stone-sensitive," Alta continued. "And only a sensitive person could have keyed the Stones, causing the flare-up. So, we don't know what exactly is going on, and, keeping in mind what we've been able to learn about that Organization of yours, we don't feel free to probe too deeply."

  "I presume that you're hoping that I can, that is, that we of the Agency, can find out something about the situa
tion using Terran methods?" Coryn's tone carried a hint of sarcasm. The crones had behaved in a very arrogant manner when he had bothered them with the intelligence about The Organization.

  "We want those Stones." The Witch's voice was flat. "And, presumably, you don't want to see them fall into Organization hands."

  "Touche. All right. If I'm to be of use to you, you'll have to let me have all the information that you have. Enlighten me."

  Coryn leaned over to make sure that his machine was recording the conversation. Meanwhile the Witch was clearing her throat, sounding unexpectedly hesitant.

  "Well," she finally began, "about all we know is that a flare-up of Stone fire has occurred. We're not in contact with the expedition. We can't contact them, as a matter of fact. Every crew member was mind-shielded against mental interference before the ship left Kordea. We thought it might be a useful precaution."

  Coryn shook his head impatiently at her ambiguity. Then he remembered that the Witch Alta lived in a peer group to which telepathy was a part of everyday existence. She would have had little experience with people who needed the facts spelled out to them.

  "Can you, first of all," he queried in a measured tone, "give me the omega-coordinates of the planet on which the flare-up happened?"

  "Of course. The ship's navigator worked those out from the information we gave her," the Witch Alta replied immediately and rattled off a series of numbers.

  "Next, the ship. It's name, the name of its captain. When did it leave Kordea for that planet?"

  "It's called the Beth 117, captained by Dav Castilo," came the prompt reply.

  This was more like it, Coryn thought.

  The date the Witch gave him meant nothing to him; however, later he could get the computer to translate it from Kordean count to Standard.