by T M Roy
Kent grabbed Ben’s arm to support him as he swayed. “Are you okay?”
“I’ve had better days,” Ben said dryly, but after he picked up the crumpled remains of his glasses, he was the one to urge Kent toward the parking area.
“I hope you don’t really need those glasses. We don’t have time to glue them together.”
“No, I don’t really need them,” admitted Ben. “But that knock on the head will keep me from—”
“Using your psychic abilities?”
“Yeah. For a while. Hopefully a very little while. Damn it!” Ben blew out an explosive breath and stopped next to a small Toyota pickup. He handed Kent a set of keys. “You’re driving. I’ll need everything I have to concentrate past this artillery barrage inside my brain.”
Kent peeled out of the parking lot. Ben’s little truck would need a new set of tires by morning, but Kent was past caring. He only wanted to catch up with those jerks. There was only one way out of the campus from here, and he took it, knowing those who kidnapped Povre had to go that way as well.
* * * * *
AS SOON AS THE UNVENTILATED cover was pulled from her face, Povre gulped in air and opened her eyes. She only half-stifled her scream as looming, faceless white figures bent over her. They were humans, encased head-to-toe in some sort of protective suits. Four of them. She was strapped down to something hard and cold inside a moving vehicle. She exerted her greatest effort to calm herself, to think in a rational, logical manner. Panic would get her nowhere.
Remember the rules, she thought, reaching for them now in desperation. At last, all those rules of the “What To Do When Captured by Hostile Aliens” part of her training for Exploration made sense. Povre, to the despair of her instructors, had been bored to death in the class. She was grateful for it now. Knowing she had something to fall back on until she got a better grasp of the situation was a comfort.
The first rule is: Don’t let them know I understand or speak their language. She might have broken that one. She was sure they had heard her calling out to Kent. But she was quite sure all she had said was his name.
Don’t struggle, because that will only make them restrain or immobilize me even more and in such a manner I might never get free.
She felt sure she could wriggle loose from the straps across her body and limbs. Being double-jointed had its advantages. She only had to remain still and wait for an opening.
Look harmless and non-threatening, and if you think it might help, act scared witless.
Well, she didn’t know if it would help or not, but that last part she didn’t need to fake. Making her body limp, she allowed a wide-eyed, terrified expression to remain on her face.
“Must say it’s better looking than the ETs the pictures always show,” muttered one. “And I thought it was blue? Didn’t Jacobsen find blue hair? That’s what the dogs trailed from, wasn’t it?”
“Some kind of dye,” said another. Without a look or word to her he proceeded to cut the huge flannel shirt she wore and cast it aside. He pushed up the sleeve of the large T-shirt covering her upper body. “Yep. Dyed…see?” He took the cutting implements and snicked off a lock of her shaggy black hair.
Povre’s shock and terror at such an action froze her entire body. She could do nothing but stare and gasp for breath. She never took a cutting from a plant without trying to discern its sentience first, or if it would be hurt. But these men went about their business as if she had no nerves. As if she couldn’t feel. Or hear, or understand.
“Looks almost human, doesn’t it?”
“Not human.” Another touched her left breast through the T-shirt. “But definitely mammalian.”
“Seems to be female. We’ll be able to tell for sure once we get to the lab. There’s no device on her responsible for that electrical discharge. Maybe it’s implanted. Find that when we get there, I suppose.”
Find it when they get—where? They were going to cut her open?
“Good thing the suits insulate from static discharge. Let’s get the sampling done with then…”
The fourth jabbed something sharp into her arm. She felt blood being withdrawn.
They were treating her as if she were a lifeform without any mind or feeling whatsoever. Just like everyone said they would. She didn’t want to believe it. She’d thought since meeting Kent all those stories just couldn’t be true.
“Female, or just a male with overdeveloped breasts?” This one made a move to remove the rest of her clothing. The motion was never completed.
Povre’s shock transformed into outrage, and she cried out in anger and protest. She threw her body against the restraints. Goddess, it’s true what they do—I am nothing more than a specimen to them!
“Stop!” It was time to speak. “Stop!”
“It talks!”
“One word doesn’t mean anything. That guy Xavier probably taught it a few words.”
“I am not an it!” shouted Povre. She forced her mind to translate the words she needed to say, faster than ever before, not caring about carefully forming grammar and syntax. “Hurting me are you!”
Anger surged inside, elevating her bioenergy. The temper she’d displayed to Kent after he got her wet was nothing compared to what she felt now. “How dare you start poking and cutting. NO PLANT AM I! No animal am I! No plant, no animal treated same way as this by…by me.”
The four scientists—at least she guessed they were, of a fashion—stood frozen. Four shiny faceplates regarded her. The overhead lighting made it impossible for her to see the faces behind the shields.
She felt blood tricking from the puncture on her arm. Her next words had more structure but no less indignant fury. “You made me bleed! You hurt my friends! Why? What did I do to you? I’m sorry I came to your planet and got lost. I was just trying to go home. I didn’t harm anyone or any sentient creature. I’m not poisonous, either,” fumed Povre. “No attempt to communicate with me did you. Not once! Just take, cut, poke!”
She drew a deep shuddering breath and tried to contain her growing wrath. “You are not scientists,” she spat out with as much contempt in her voice as she was capable of. Unable to come up with a suitable euphemism for these people in any language, she settled for a sound of utter disgust.
“Why are you here?” one asked after a long pause.
And why hadn’t they asked that first?
For the first time in her life, Povre didn’t answer with the complete truth to a direct question. Of course she’d never tell them about the Folonar, but she would have told them her crew was just looking. Collecting a few rocks, a few plants—once she made sure they weren’t going to mind—and making observations. Not hurting anything or anyone.
“You humans keep sending us invitations! Is this why? So you can capture us and cut us up? We thought you wanted to find friends. Exchange knowledge, culture, trade. Make allies. You just might need allies one of these days,” she finished on an ominous note. “Others traveling through this galaxy aren’t as nice as we are.”
One turned aside for a moment. His uncomfortable aura was so strong she didn’t need a physical contact to feel it.
“Let me go,” Povre demanded. “I’m angry now. You don’t want to see me get angrier. And neither do I.” She shuddered inwardly. Her bioelectric current would increase. Already it hummed and sang along every nerve ending in her body, stronger than ever before as her body prepared for defense. In offensive mode she could possibly kill or seriously injure another living thing. She had no training to control that. Not like her father and the other non-scientific Exploration personnel.
Povre!
The thought tickled her mind, the mind-touch of the Folonar telepath.
Ben? Are you all right? Is Kent all right?
It was touch-and-go for a while, but we’re okay. You’re upset…mad…hurt. What’s going on? Whoa!
His protest came with her concentrated return thought. Povre had dealt with Folonar telepaths before, but obviously Ben wasn’t on the
ir level. And he’s only a brown eye, she reminded herself. Folonar genetics as they were, brown-eyed individuals were least adept in telepathy while stronger in other areas.
She apologized to Ben and re-organized the thought patterns.
Ben’s return thoughts of anger and disgust at her treatment and over the situation steeled Povre’s resolve. They are arguing. One believes me, the rest don’t. They’re not about to let me go.
Povre, I’m linked with a few others, and we’re going to make them stop. This bio-kinetic electric resonance you have…can you generate enough current to defend yourself?
Could she! The current already threatened to break from her pores and surround her with visible light. I won’t use it! I can’t hurt anyone! I won’t!
Stun them, said Ben. Stun, not kill.
The ones with me are wearing protective suits that insulate against any current I can make. And I’m not trained—
A faint but familiar touch joined the blended mental entity focused through Ben Goldberg. Kent. Oh, Goddess, Kent! How she wished to be safe in his arms, to feel protected and loved.
You’re MY prisoner, remember? You’re stronger than they are! DAMN IT, POVRE—TRY!
* * * * *
“HOLY CHUNKS OF COMETARY ice, Batman,” Goldberg said, removing Kent’s hand from his arm. His brown eyes were wide and reflected lights from the dash and outside the car. “And my headache was under control. Povre and anyone else in the link are damn lucky not to be mind deaf after that!”
“She ‘heard’ me?”
“Half the continent with any psi talent to speak of heard you! Where did that come from? You didn’t emit a shred of ability when I sounded you before. How did you guess to slip in a physical contact link?”
“Povre’s talent works better when she’s touching someone, so I thought I’d try the same thing.”
“But you slung that out through my link,” said Ben, clearly amazed. “No human ever—”
“It’s a basic human survival instinct called desperation,” said Kent grimly. “You may have heard of it.”
“No,” said Ben, his voice thoughtful. “I think it’s called something else.”
“Look, we can theorize later,” Kent said through gritted teeth. “Hell, we can experiment later if you want, but right now we’ve got to get her out of there and away from those creepshow excuses for doctors and scientists.”
* * * * *
A LOUD REPORT SOUNDED and the vehicle swerved. The violent motion sent the four men sprawling. Povre lurched painfully against the straps holding her down.
There was shouting, confusion. The rear doors of the vehicle banged open. She saw one of the suited scientists push himself up and lift a weapon of some kind.
She heard Kent outside, and fear for him slammed through her body.
Normally, without training, it took a great deal of anger, a fighting mad anger, to raise a Sirgel’s bioelectrical force to a danger point. Povre stopped trying to control hers. Instead she added her frustration and fear to the anger already fueling the power humming through her veins. The thought of killing horrified her, but she knew she would if she had to.
She’d do it for Kent. She do anything to keep him from harm. Break any rules or laws. She writhed, twisted, and slid her flexible body free, thanking the Goddess the straps hadn’t been as tight as they could have been. One of the suited men saw her sit up and called a warning.
Her body reacted and her muscles, used to higher gravity, sent her legs slamming into the man’s chest. He flew backward like a short-range fightercraft from a launch tube. She sprang, into a leap that carried her free of another one’s clumsy grab and right outside, into the rain. The drops of moisture crackled off the electrical field surrounding her body. She heard the terrifying snarling and barking of the dogs, and turned to meet them with her hands extended. Her energy output elevated to the point that sparks crackled in a nimbus surrounding her body and impaired her normal vision.
It should have frightened her, but she didn’t have time to acknowledge her fears. With a moment’s focus and a few blinks, she shifted her focus into her infrared range and let her instinct take over her body movements. As the huge dogs jumped at her, she closed her hands around their muzzles. Slick, sharp teeth tore across her fingers. She pushed her bioelectric energy to the surface. Crackling sparks erupted from Povre’s hands. The dogs emitted ear-piercing shrieks and fell, convulsing for a few seconds after they hit the pavement.
A ghastly phantasm of shifting color in her enhanced sight raised an arm. The cold blue-purple of a metal weapon was clutched in yellow-orange-red of hand and fingers. And the weapon aimed toward the spot she knew Kent occupied.
“Kent!” she screamed. “Watch out!”
The person with the weapon turned at her outcry. Povre, still burning with energy, was already in mid-leap.
* * * * *
“GET AWAY FROM THE panel truck! It’s going to blow up!”
Kent recognized Ben’s voice, but wondered how Ben managed to make it sound like it came from among the ranks of federal agents. No one questioned it—the area was cleared instantly. Those already after Povre and a few more trying to keep Kent from reaching her didn’t pause.
But the eerie blue glow that grew bright in the damp gloom slowed down anyone still moving, Kent included. Povre was in the middle of that neon aura, and it was coming from her body. She produced enough of a glow to be a help and a disability to both sides involved. The crackling electrical field she emitted kept anyone from trying to touch her physically. Kent doubted it protected her from weapons.
“Kent! Watch out!”
He saw the agent that had taken aim at him shift to cover Povre.
“Oh, no.” He’d never taken any interest in the martial arts or any sort of fighting skills before. That was his sister Kelly’s forte. Adrenaline made up for the lack of black-belted older sisters. He tackled the agent moving in on him and ran to intercept the one with the gun. And it was then Povre launched herself into the air.
Her flying form tackled the gunman at the same time the explosion happened behind her. He knew it was coming. Ben had told him that much. Yet the noise and brightness of it was still unexpected. Fortunately Kent’s hesitation lasted no longer than a few seconds. He still had time to take advantage of the confusion the blast produced. He darted forward to intercept Povre, spurred on by the telepathic message that Ben was behind the wheel of his pickup, ready for escape.
He reached her two heartbeats after she hit the ground with the agent. He didn’t see any more sparks. Hell, he would’ve grabbed her anyway, just like he did now. Scooping her long, slender body in his arms, Kent ran for Ben’s vehicle. The last surge of his adrenaline took them both over the side of the pickup into the open bed. Ready behind the wheel, Ben gunned the truck’s engine. The tires spun on the rain-slick surface for a few seconds before finding traction. The stench of exhaust and burnt rubber filled his nose.
“Kent,” whispered Povre.
He pulled the plastic sheeting over them both. “Povre,” Kent gasped, groping for a better hold on her. He pulled her tightly into his body and covered her face with anxious kisses. “Povre. Are you all right?”
“Oh, Kent. You’re hurt.”
“I just bumped my head. You killed them?”
“No. The dogs and the men are only stunned.”
“You’re bleeding.” With growing horror, he realized the large, warm wet spot on his arm and chest wasn’t from the rain, wasn’t because she was wet. “Oh, no, Povre.” The darkness was too complete, he couldn’t see. He felt carefully, trying to find the wound. The warm area increased and so did his panic.
“Only a scratch, Kent.” Her voice sounded far away.
Despite himself he let out a laugh that was half sob. “I’ve heard that line before.”
The rain plopped onto the covering, loud and fast. Thunder rumbled. In the darkness, the wind and rain rushing overhead, she snuggled into his arms.
&nbs
p; Kent banged on the window to the cab to get Ben’s attention. “She’s hurt!” he yelled. “She’s bleeding bad.”
Hold on, Kent, Ben’s mental voice said. Try to find where and apply pressure. We’re nearly there.
The Toyota whipped around a turn. From the pitch and twists the little truck made, Kent realized they were on the winding road to the top of Skinner’s Butte. The rain sheeted down so hard he wondered how Ben could see, since the windshield wipers did little to make visibility any better. How could a ship land so precisely in this slop? Airliners even had trouble on huge, long runways with fully automated systems.
Reluctant to let her go, he sat in the back with Povre and kept her firmly pressed to his body and his left hand pressed tight to a spot midway between her shoulder and collarbone. She felt limp and weak, and he worried, but she reassured him the energy discharge drained her, nothing more. As if she wasn’t bleeding all over him.
The vehicle came to a halt. The truck squeaked and bounced as Ben joined them in the back. He had a flashlight under one arm and a first aid kit beneath the other.
Kent snatched the light and brought it close to Povre’s wound. A long, deep furrow—she’d been grazed by a bullet. A scratch, sure, but a nasty and deep one…welling dark blue-violet blood.
“I’m sorry about what happened,” Ben said again, taking over the bandaging. “My friends managed to sidetrack the ETIS people, we sent the military somewhere else completely, and we thought we ditched the Feds.” He grimaced. “We thought wrong. We’re a younger group in this area and not very experienced. If only—”
“You did more than I could have. You did your best. We’re here, we’re alive. Povre’s alive. And she’s going home.” Kent let go of Povre long enough to squeeze the slender man’s wiry arm.
“I thank you too,” said Povre. “You took a big chance, Ben.” She stretched the short distance and kissed his cheek, conveniently close to her since Ben was applying a final strip of adhesive tape.
“Thanks, but I still feel bad. We didn’t count on them having dogs…or them having found some way to track Povre. I heard one of them mention a towel with blue hairs.”