Panglor

by Jeffrey A. Carver

  "Tell Garik—" Panglor started then cut himself off. He glanced at Alo, then at Gometz again, beaten, humiliated.

  Gometz nodded, eyes steely, and left the room.

  "What was that?" Alo asked. "Is LePiep all right?" She reached out to take the ou-ralot from Panglor, and looked puzzled and hurt when Panglor resisted angrily. LePiep herself was wide awake now and crying softly, radiating waves of fear and dismay.

  Panglor was silent for a long time. Alo did not move, waiting for him to reply. Finally Tiki spoke. "Your . . . LePiep . . . is hurt?" He looked back and forth between the two of them.

  At last Panglor found his voice. "That," he said softly, "was a Grakoff-Garikoff stooge. And if you're listening to me now, Garikoff, it doesn't matter—they already know." Alo's brows furrowed sharply. Panglor, speaking in a strained voice explained. "It could be a fake, a bluff," he admitted afterward. "But they weren't faking when they put bombs on the Cur."

  Alo reached up gently and took LePiep from him. She touched the lump beneath the incision and looked at Panglor gravely. "We can't let them kill LePiep," she whispered. Panglor shook his head. He sat down, a little apart, and stared silently at the floor. No, he couldn't let them kill her.

  But could he give in to Garikoff, as he had once before? That was what Garikoff counted on—that intimidation, having worked once, would work equally well again.

  That night Panglor did not sleep. He paced. He sat. He stared at LePiep. He cursed. He imagined what he would do to Garikoff if he could—and to every one of the bum's henchmen, especially Gometz. He looked at LePiep, at her dark, uncomprehending eyes, and he felt his heartache reflected in the ou-ralot's puzzled misery, her fright and her pain. And he knew that he had to protect her—and if that meant giving in to Garikoff again, well, then, it simply had to be. But if he protected Garikoff, then he would be taking the blame himself for the Deerfield incident. Still, LePiep would be alive. But for how long? How long would either of them stay alive?

  Part of the night, Alo sat with him in silence; part of the night, Tiki filled the silence, speaking softly, nostalgically about Dementia. Part of the night, they left him alone—to think.

  He sat numbly through the next day's debriefing, speaking when spoken to, but not always without prodding. Asked by Dr. Barthollo whether anything was wrong, he shook his head and muttered about the strain of the trip. LePiep lay quiet, curled tightly in his lap. When they returned to their quarters after an all-day session, he hardly felt that he had left. The same thoughts went wearily round and round through his head. And soon, he knew, the panel would begin asking the questions he could not answer.

  Alo knelt by him, stroking LePiep. She stared at him silently until he met her gaze. "Whoh-ee?" LePiep quailed softly, lifting her head.

  "It's the filthiest trick I've ever seen," Alo said quietly. "They must have worked their way into the station's main computer system, if they're bugging the hearing room—and getting phony IDs and orders."

  "Probably," Panglor muttered. His head hurt from lack of sleep. After all they had been through at D1—to come back to this! "They must be expanding their illegal operations into the Dreznelles—why else would they penetrate the station's computers?—and we came back in the middle of it." His voice was little more than a whisper. "Damn! They're so bloody buggering sure of themselves! He twitched, and realized that he had unconsciously balled his fists.

  "Pangly—"

  "The computers, though—the damn computers." He focused on Alo. "What if — ?" Suddenly his heart beat quickly. "Listen, how long do we have before the next hearing?"

  "Till morning. We're supposed to be sleeping. And you really should—"

  "No sleep. Forget sleep," Panglor said tightly. He leaned close to her ear and whispered, almost inaudibly, "You're about to outdo everything you've ever done on a computer system. First see if they've got a bug on us through the com-console. If they do, kill it. Then we're going to falsify a few programs of our own."

  As he explained, Alo's brows knitted in fierce concentration.

  * * *

  Panglor put Tiki to work calming LePiep, then he tackled the mechanical job. He opened the access panel of the com-console and sat on the floor, staring at the internal components of the terminal, balancing his unitool in his hand, thinking. He looked up at Alo, waiting for her to finish at the board, wanting to scream to relieve the terrible tension in his chest. Alo stared at the board, brow furrowed. Her fingers moved, slid, danced across the board. Panglor peered back into the works of the console and poked tentatively with his unitool.

  Alo looked down. "Okay, Pangly, the bug program is blocked. And this is set to go as soon as you cross those circuits."

  Taking a long, deep breath, Panglor reached into the console and disconnected several hair-fine light-fibers in back, then several more in front. The cross-circuiting was no easy job, and by the time he was finished, he had clipped out several circuits altogether and used the fibers as extensions for the ones he needed to rearrange. "Okay," he grunted. "Send."

  Alo fiddled. "It's done. The med section will receive the alert for a cymidine poisoning case, starting in half an hour, appearing consecutively on every cardiac display in the department."

  "You're sure Garikoff couldn't monitor that through the bug on our sender?"

  "Pretty sure. Not unless they're smarter than we think they are. I sent it out as a coded telemetric pulse through the central system."

  "All right, let's get that other message ready." Panglor cut six circuits and reconnected one. "Go ahead." Then, as Alo worked, he began dismantling several unrelated components under the console. Alo was already finished when he finally sat back, holding several units in his hands. He looked at LePiep, then spent the next forty minutes assembling and recircuiting, and when he was finished, he had two pieces of equipment in his hand. One looked like a piece of barnacled toast with horns, and the other looked like a tiny spaceship trailing a wire.

  "Tiki," he said, holding up the barnacled toast, "you keep that close to LePiep at all times. Maybe you can hold it under your robe." Tiki took the instrument and held it for LePiep to sniff. Then he carefully placed it under the front fold of his robe and held LePiep to his breast. "I don't know if that thing will jam the signal from Garikoff's trigger," Panglor said—his words scarcely conveying the fear in his heart—"but it might. I hope it won't be put to the test."

  "Excellent," said Tiki somberly. "A difficult situation."

  Alo was staring at the other device. "We have to test this," Panglor muttered. It was the transmitter-laser from the com-console; with the use of extra components and fibers, however, he had attempted to step up its power. He reached into the console and connected the power line trailing from the device. Then he pointed the instrument across the room and touched a switch. A hairline beam of light jumped out; smoke hissed from the opposite wall. Panglor disconnected the laser and went to inspect the damage. He had burned a small hole into the metal-matrix wall. "Right," he said, and his stomach grew tight. The laser worked. So he was going to go through with the plan. There was a chance that it would fail—that he would watch LePiep die. He turned, feeling a numb weakness in his legs. LePiep was watching him from Tiki's arms, and her sorrowful fear washed over him.

  "That's it?" Alo asked. She cleared her throat; she understood.

  Panglor nodded, closed up the com-console, and handed the laser to Tiki. "Can you hide this in your robe for a minute?" Tiki clucked, and the weapon vanished under several folds of cloth. "Okay," Panglor said and went to the door.

  When Alo nodded from the com-console, he pressed the door signal. The door paled, and the guard peered in. "Yes?"

  "Um . . . there's a message here on our console you need to see," Panglor said. He indicated the com-console with his eyes. "You're to let us go for a while."

  The guard looked dubious. "I'll look," he said. "But listen—I don't like to use this—" he pointed at Panglor with his right forefinger, the tip of which glittered
with the tiny muzzle of a grafted-on-nervie "—but if I need to, I will."

  "Right—sure," Panglor said and stood well back as the guard crossed the room and glanced at the com-console. His eyes widened in surprise. "You see?" Panglor said. "I wasn't kidding." He joined the guard and looked at the screen, to see what message Alo had trumped up.

  The message read: "BY ORDER OF THE DIRECTOR'S OFFICE OF THE DEPARTMENT OF EXTRASOLAR AFFAIRS, THE FOLLOWING PERSONS:

  PANGLOR BALEF

  ALONTELIDA CASTLEY

  TIKI

  ARE INSTRUCTED TO PROCEED TO THE MEDICAL ARRIVAL AREA, FOR CONFERENCE WITH ACTING COMMANDER TAL JEEBERING OF FREIGHTER DEERFIELD. THE ABOVE-NAMED PERSONS MAY PROCEED UNESCORTED, AND DUTY GUARD IS HEREBY INSTRUCTED TO REMAIN AND GUARD QUARTERS IN THEIR ABSENCE. PER AUTHORIZATION, WAYSTATION AUTHORITY, 543:11.24: 2210."

  The guard scratched his upper lip. "I'll have to confirm this. I can't imagine why they didn't notify me in the usual way." He squinted for a moment; Panglor could see his throat move slightly as the guard operated his implanted transceiver. Panglor crossed his fingers. The guard grunted and reached out to the com-console terminal. "Something's wrong with channels. I'll have to try for a confirmation on here."

  "That must be it," Panglor said. "I wondered myself why they would contact you this way. Probably some difficulty in the other systems." He glanced at Alo behind the guard's back. If she knew how to set up a block in the security-com system from here, it was no wonder she had always been in so much trouble at the station.

  The guard cleared the board and punched in a request. The word "CONFIRMED" appeared in the screen, followed by the same message. The guard scratched his head. He used a different code. The result was the same. The guard appeared at a loss; he was obviously not completely convinced.

  "Is there a problem with this?" Tiki said suddenly, moving to join them. He was still holding LePiep. He addressed the guard, his eyebrows dancing. "I do not understand. Is it usual for you not to trust messages from your own human people?" He spoke in a tone of voice that was soft, and yet not so much gentle as persuasive, conveying the disappointment of one who has trusted and been let down.

  "Well, it's not that, sir, Mr. Tiki. It's just that well—this isn't usual, and I think I should wait." The guard bit his lip. "If it's really important, they should send a messenger down."

  Tiki made a sorrowful hissing sound. "We have been summoned to a friend," he whispered. "We are needed. Do you not believe this?" Panglor felt a curious wave of lightheadedness. He was suddenly afraid that all was lost; and yet, he wanted very much to believe what Tiki was saying, with all his heart. Of course, he would anyway—but this was different. Suddenly he recognized, in a tiny corner of his mind, that he was being gently hypnotized. Tiki was still talking but Panglor could not quite understand what he was saying.

  Tiki's words became clear as he concluded. "We have been summoned to our friend, and we really must go." The guard nodded and agreed. His hands dropped to his sides and he smiled.

  Panglor blinked, then gestured toward the door. He followed the others out, glancing back only once. The guard was watching them, looking vaguely unsettled. When they were in the corridor, Panglor took his weapon back from Tiki and hissed, "How long will he stay that way?"

  "Why, I don't know," said Tiki. "As long as he remains convinced of the rightness of my words, I expect. I did not command him. I merely persuaded."

  "Well, if he changes his mind," said Alo, "there will be plenty of confusion. I planted a bulletin that we've been seen escaping on the far side of the station. That should give us time to do this, if we can do it at all."

  "Yah," said Panglor, scowling. He touched LePiep, in Tiki's arms. "You have to help us now, babe. It's for you and for all of us. Can you lead us to those scum? Can you tell us when we're getting near?"

  The ou-ralot perked her ears sadly. "Hyool?" she said mournfully, emitting soft waves of misgiving.

  "It's to save you, buddy," Panglor said urgently. "Tiki, you can talk to her pretty well. Can you get across to her that we just want her to reach out, to feel for the presence of that bastard, wherever he is?"

  Tiki hissed softly and murmured to LePiep. The ou-ralot purred in return and radiated soft waves of hopefulness. Panglor took that as assent and started down the corridor. "They can't be far away, because I don't think their transmitter could function through too many walls. This whole section's half deserted, anyway. They've probably set themselves up in one of these empty rooms."

  As they passed the first doorway, Panglor watched LePiep for any sign of reaction. She simply looked at him with wide eyes. They moved on. Panglor glanced up and down the corridor nervously, knowing that security scanners must be tracking them; he hoped Alo's program was successfully feeding the monitoring center a picture of an empty corridor.

  "Which way, Pangly?" Alo stood at an intersecting corridor, peering both ways. "I see someone way down at the end, there," she said, pointing to the right.

  Panglor caught up with her. "This way," he said, pointing left. Besides avoiding company, he wanted to circle around the block of rooms that included their quarters. "Any idea what's on the levels above and below us?"

  Alo spoke as they continued walking. "Above—that's where they're interrogating us. I don't think Garikoff could infiltrate that very easily." She glanced at LePiep. "She looks a little nervous now, doesn't she?"

  "She grows uneasy, yes," said Tiki, gently stroking the ou-ralot in his arms.

  Panglor felt his own nerves tighten. "What's below us?" he asked, striding forward again.

  "Government offices, I think. Maybe the guard headquarters. I'm not sure," Alo said.

  Nodding, Panglor eyed every doorway they passed and glanced back for any indication from LePiep. Nothing happened until they turned the next corner; then LePiep began emoting plaintively. Panglor hesitated, then reached back to scratch her lightly on the head. "We gotta do this," he murmured, his throat thick. "Wish you could understand why." He gripped his laser more tightly and moved ahead.

  A man rounded the corner ahead and strode toward them. He wore the uniform of a Waystation Authority guard. "Uh-oh," Panglor muttered. "Tiki, do you think—?"

  The Kili swept by him silently, with astonishing grace and speed. As the guard approached, he appeared to recognize them and quickened his pace. Tiki, however, intercepted him and spoke to him in a voice too low for the others to hear. The man looked puzzled for a moment, then visibly relaxed. He nodded to Tiki, and to Panglor and Alo, and then he walked on by and disappeared around the corner. Panglor, breathing more easily, pulled the laser out from behind his back. Tiki beamed. "I told him we had been granted freedom of the corridors for exercise. Who would disbelieve an honored guest-alien?"

  "Especially when he uses his voice to hypnotize," Panglor muttered gratefully.

  "Really, friend Panglor, I only use my voice to increase the persuasiveness of my words. Still," Tiki admitted, "it is a useful ability. My evolutionary ancestors used it—"

  "Tiki, let's just—"

  "Of course." Tiki turned and glided down the hallway. After passing four doors on his left, he stopped and cocked his head. Panglor hurried to his side.

  "Hrrrrl," LePiep said, bristling. She radiated dismay and . . . hatred. She peered unhappily into Panglor's eyes.

  "You feel them up ahead?" Panglor whispered, his limbs turning to lead. "That next door?" His voice caught; he was unable to breathe for a moment. Meeting Alo's and Tiki's eyes, he steeled himself and walked forward to the shimmering, opaqued door. This appeared to be the room located just about exactly behind their quarters. LePiep's waves of fear cascaded against him. Fear—and hatred—of someone beyond that door. She growled throatily in Tiki's arms. Panglor touched her to shush her. His hand trembled. He steadied himself with a sharp, silent command.

  Gripping the laser, he nodded to Alo. The girl worked with incredible speed; in seconds she had the service plate removed from the door-lock mechanism. Panglor
unwrapped the threadlike power line from the laser and, squinting, attached it to the power supply inside the door mechanism. The laser-charging components came to life. He nodded again to Alo, and she probed at the door-actuating mechanism. Panglor stretched out his power line; he had about a meter of free movement—enough to get inside the door and take aim.

  Alo moved something, and the forcefield door changed almost imperceptibly, without paling. Panglor crouched and edged closer. The door's field was weakened just enough to allow sound to leak through. Blood rushed so hard in his ears he could barely think, and he exhaled slowly, steadying himself.

  Voices were barely audible through the still-opaque door. For a moment he could not distinguish words. Alo modified the field a hair more, and suddenly the sounds became clearer and he heard Gometz's voice, bored and grumbling. Someone else spoke, a familiar, slightly hysterical voice. That was interrupted in turn by another . . . one full of gravel, saying, "All right. So the tap's down. Don't worry—he's in our hand."

  Panglor fought down a wave of dizziness. Garikoff's voice jumped out of his memory; it was the voice he had just heard. It was true, then; he was here. Vertigo gave way first to anger, then rage. Panglor glanced at Tiki, who was holding LePiep. The ou-ralot was quaking silently, radiating terror; she recognized Garikoff's presence, all right. "Tiki," he whispered. "Hold that gadget I gave you right in front of her." He blinked hard and gripped his laser tightly. Someone in the room shouted: "Hey, the guards have a bulletin out! They've escaped, and they're halfway across the station!"

  "What?" growled Garikoff.

  "Now!" Panglor hissed.

  Alo tripped the door lock, and the door-field vanished. Panglor sprang into the room, crouching, leveled the laser, and bellowed, "FREEZE, YOU BASTARDS, OR YOU'RE DEAD!" Three men leaped out of their seats in astonishment and panic. Lousa Garikoff rose to his short, stocky height and turned to stare at Panglor. His hairpins glinted and his eyes smoldered. "You sons of bitches!" Panglor snarled. "Hands where I can see—"