Now she was filled once more with that sense of peace, the affirmation of seloz's love. After the events of the past day and a half, Doctor Blanket's warmth in her mind was like balm on a raw wound. Slowly, Heather relaxed and thought back to the question she'd asked, and the Avernian's reply. Why did things like this have to happen? What kinds of forces?
Are you talking about God, Doctor Blanket? she wondered. Communication with seloz was now so effortless that it seemed nearly as natural as talking to herself had been.
Like what? Despite herself, she was growing interested in this conversation. She'd never discussed philosophy with an alien
before. For a moment she imagined Aunt Natalie's horror if she could see her erstwhile niece holding a silent conversation with
. a giant glowing fungus who rested in complete darkness half a kilometer away, and a hint of her old evil smile wavered for a moment on her face.
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Doctor Blanket, you're awfully smart, she thought.
Really? How old are you?
Heather sat bolt upright. Holy shit! You're a million years old?
Doctor Blanket,-how did your people get to be so smart when they don't have hands or technology or a written language or anything? The question had been growing in the back of her mind for a considerable time--ever since she'd known the Avernian.
Really? Where were you before you were in this then-and-now?
Heather was just about to ask where that was, when she looked up at her closed door, suddenly alert. Serge had just walked by-- the girl knew it because of the distinctive brush of his thoughts, even though, as Blanket was helping her learn to do, she'd resisted actually reading them.
Quickly she pulled on her clothes, thinking, I've gotta go see how Serge is doing, Doctor Blanket, I'm worried about him.
Talk to you later!
She had no trouble tracking the archaeologist through the station, being careful to stay far enough behind so he wouldn't see her. Heather planned to let him reach his destination, then casually stroll past and act surprised to see him.
She really was worried about Serge. When she'd seen him today, he'd been so quiet, so overcontrolled, that she'd sensed he was hanging by a thread.
And yet, even amid his own misery, he'd been concerned for her. Heather understood more than ever now why Hing had loved him. She only hoped that the Cambodian
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student had gotten a chance to tell Serge how she'd felt before her death.
Now Serge was nearing the Horizons Unlimited offices, only to find them closed for the night. He turned purposefully away and strode toward the nearby bloc of apartments. Unseen, Heather followed.
She flattened herself in a nearby recess, listening as he signaled the door to Morrow's apartment. After a short delay, it was opened by Jeff himself, a robe hastily flung around him. Heather saw the gleam of a distort cuff on the engineer's ear.
Heather strained to hear the two men's conversation as Serge began talking excitedly, urging Morrow to accompany him down to the dig site. From what Serge said, he'd just found proof that Andrea Lynch had planted the artifacts six months ago, then rigged a fake radonium-2 alarm, designed to be tripped when anyone tampered with the star-shrine in Cavern Two. Lynch, Serge told Morrow, was now using specialized containers purchased with H.U.
funds to steal StarBridge's precious radonium!
Holy shit! Heather thought. This is just like Teen Sleuths! Serge figured all of this out today? She knew how the young man felt about Andrea Lynch--he'd spoken bitterly of her in Heather's presence more than once. And today he'd told her that he planned to check on their precious star-shrine whether Morrow allowed him on the site or not. Evidently he'd made good on his promise.
Now Morrow was talking, assuring Serge that he'd come with him as soon as he could get dressed, and that, together, the two of them would get to the bottom of this.
Serge shook Morrow's hand gratefully, thanking him for his understanding.
Heather, listening, suddenly shook her head. No, Serge! Don't thank him!
Something's wrong!
She had no idea what that "something" was, but she was sure of what she sensed. Heather bit her knuckles as she considered what she ought to do, but before she could decide, Morrow reappeared again, fully dressed.
Together, he and Serge left the living area of the station, heading for the shuttle docks.
What should I do? Heather thought, following them again. I'm just a kid!
Nobody's going to listen to me, and all I have are suspicions! If only he weren't wearing that damned distort!
When the two men stopped at the docking area where the suit lockers were located, the girl dug her fingers into her palms, took a deep breath, then deliberately pushed her mind at Morrow's, seeking to read past the distort.
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The pain slammed into her, along with the white-noise hum, the dizziness, the mental confusion. After a second she could stand no more, and had to pull back, leaning against the nearest wall for support. She came within a centimeter of throwing up, right there in public.
But she had succeeded--at least partly!
Now Heather knew that Jeff Morrow was lying, and that he intended nothing good toward Serge. Her friend was in terrible danger. She had to warn him!
Doctor Blanket> she "shouted." Something terrible has happened! Serge is with Jeff Morrow, and Morrow's lying to him. I don't know exactly why, or how, but I'm certain he's in danger! Nobody knows they're together! I'm going to try and warn Serge. Please tell Dr. Rob what's happened!
Ducking into the suit-locker section, she went into the women's storage area.
With her computerpen, it took only a few moments to locate the smallest woman's suit there, and open the locker where it was stored.
Fortunately, no one was in the immediate area as Heather struggled to get into the suit and get it sealed properly. It was slightly too big, but she could wear it. Heather had gone through suit drills aboard the Mclntyre, so she'd done this once before (with help), but it was hard to remember all the checks.
She finally ended up "borrowing" the correct information on wearing the suit and getting it properly sealed from a woman several aisles away, who had no idea that her brain was being picked.
I know I promised I wouldn't do that anymore, the child thought, but this is an emergency!
Serge and Jeff Morrow were already down in the tiny terminal cubicle at the end of the docking tube where one of the H.U. shuttles was moored, filing their flight plan with Traffic Control. Heather sauntered past them, just another spacesuited (albeit a bit short) worker, then she bolted for the cargo airlock on the other side of the shuttle. Fortunately, it took her only a moment with her computerpen to open the lock.
Then she crouched in the cargo section, feeling her heart thud as the shuttle took off.
Now what do I do? she wondered. I can't just go up to Serge in front of Morrow --I could've done that back at the station! No, she had to ge
t Serge alone, so she could tell him, then they could leave together. She wouldn't put it past Lynch or Morrow to play really dirty.
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Heather made sure her computerpen was securely fastened inside the outer pocket of her pressure suit. If she could just get into one of H.U.'s offices onsite, she was certain she could rig some type of distraction to get Morrow away from Serge. She'd have to play it by ear.
Heart pounding, the child waited . . .
After tossing and turning for nearly an hour, Rob had just dozed off when the summons reached him.
Eyes wide in the darkness, he sat up in bed, dislodging the cat, who gave an affronted grumble and jumped down. "Doctor Blanket, what is it?"
"What's going on? Is she in danger?"
"Is she right?"
"Then how could Heather know all this? Where is Heather now?"
"I've been trying to reach Jeff all day," Rob said, scrambling out of bed and nearly tripping over Bast in the dark. Hastily, he ordered on the lights, then grabbed his pants, pulled them on. His shirt and boots followed. "I'll call him again, right now. You say he's at the site?"
"Do you sense anything wrong with Serge?"
"No, he wouldn't be," Rob said grimly, "not under the circumstances."
"Can you still sense Serge or communicate with him?"
"What aboutHeather? She's a telepath, too."
Rob frowned. "Well, we'll worry about Heather later. If you don't sense any danger from her, we'll assume she's okay for now. What I need is to get in touch with Jeff out at the site. I'm afraid he's on the verge of a breakdown,"
he admitted. "His wife called me today and said he's been acting very erratic for a while now . .. which fits in with what I've observed these last two weeks."
blackness and hate poisoning the very real love he felt for this school and those within it.>
"Hate?" Rob was taken aback. "I know he was depressed, and angry, and frustrated, but he hated us?"
"I know he's very fond of me," Rob agreed. "We'll work together to straighten this mess out," he vowed, trying to summon a positive attitude. If only he weren't so exhausted! Awake most of last night, grieving for Hing, the pressure of the evacuation. .. he sighed as he sat down before his terminal.
No rest for the wicked.
Seven extremely insistent minutes later, the H.U. offices patched him through to Jeff Morrow.
The engineer was apparently in the cavern rather than one of the
bubbletents, because Rob could see what appeared to be dark rock behind him, rather than plas-steel. But Morrow had activated the privacy shield, so details of the background were masked by the distinctive glowing shimmer that surrounded him.
"Rob?" he said. "Listen, I'm really rushed right now. Can this wait?"
"No," the psychologist said bluntly. "It can't, I'm afraid, Jeff." Morrow, he noted, seemed calm enough, but there was an air of feverish excitement about him that the doctor didn't like. Beneath the rumpled hair, his eyes looked too bright in their shadowed sockets. Far from being depressed, he seemed almost manic. Rob couldn't tell whether or not he'd been drinking.
"Okay, then, shoot," Jeff said. "What's up?"
"Is Serge LaRoche with you?"
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"Yeah, he's here. He wanted to get his star-shrine, was worried that old Lynch had designs on it. I told him that's nonsense, but he wasn't reassured, so we came down together so he can take the thing back with him. He's a nice kid ... I don't want him to worry when there's no reason for it."
"Jeff. . ." Rob said slowly, "we need to talk. About Lynch, among other things.
I'm willing to help you any way I can, you know that. Don't try and tell me that nothing's wrong, I know you too well for that. This whole situation is way out of hand--something is really wrong, and I think I know what it is. But between us we can work out a way to make it right. Let me talk to you. I'll grab a ship and come out there right away."
Obviously disturbed by Rob's speech, Morrow hesitated. "I'll meet you later up at the station," he offered finally. "Where are you staying?"
"I'm still here at the school," Rob said. "Janet's still here, too, with a few members of her crew."
"You're at the school. .." Morrow repeated, as if he hadn't quite assimilated what Rob had told him. Abruptly he straightened in his seat, nodding. "Okay, you win. Come on out." Quickly he gave Rob the access code to the cavern airlock. "How soon will you make it?"
"I'll be there in thirty minutes, tops," Rob said, and broke the connection.
Next he signaled Phillips in Traffic Control. "Hey, Teresa," he said. "Have you got a ship and a pilot for me? I've got to get out to the Lamont Cliffs right away."
She shook her head. "No ship, Rob. All of the shuttles are up at the station.
But for a point-to-point like that, you can use one of the little scooters. Can you pilot one?"
"No," he said, his heart sinking.
"That's all right. I've got a relief pilot down here, a Simiu named Khuharkk'.
He'll take you out, I'm sure."
"I know him. Thanks, Teresa. I'll be right there."
Rob headed for the hangar dome at a fast jog, feeling his sense of urgency grow with each stride.
Hidden deep within the curtain of shadow cast by the cavern airlock, Heather watched the little scooter settle down near the entrance to the cavern where Serge and Morrow had gone. Who could this be? She
recognized that the pilot was a Simiu--the four-footed stance was unmistakable. That argued that the craft was
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from the 'Bridge, because Horizons Unlimited was a human-owned and operated company.
Anxiously, she watched a spacesuited figure scramble out of the
passenger's seat, then head directly for the lock. For a moment she almost stepped out and stopped it, but not knowing the newcomer's identity held her back. What if this was Janet Rodriguez? What if Rob had sent her to investigate? Janet would never believe anything Heather told her--the child sensed that the engineer wasn't even fully convinced that she hadn't caused the computer problems when the Night Storm had crashed.
While she hesitated, the figure quickly entered a code, then Heather felt the vibration as the doors slid back.
Too late now!
Cautiously, the girl crept out of concealment, then moving with exaggerated care in the strange gravity, she headed toward the spidery little craft, picking a path that kept her out of sight until she could peer at the pilot's profile. She thought there was something familiar about the way he carried himself. ..
A moment later she stepped into full view, waving to get his attention.
Tapping her head, she shook it ostentatiously from side to side, holding a finger to her lips. Khuharkk' stared at her, uncomprehending, then she pantomimed again.
This time, he understood. She saw him turn off his suit radio, and did the same. Both of them leaned forward so they could touch helmets, and thus have a private conversation. "Honored Khuharkk'!" Heather said loudly, "I'm so glad to see you!"
"Honored Heather, what in the Name of Honor are you doing here?"
"I came down with Serge and Morrow, but I hid so they wouldn't find me.
Who was that?" she pointed to the airlock.
"Honored Healer Gable," the Simiu replied, obviously bewildered by finding her at the site.
"Damn!" Heather scowled. "He's in danger, Khuharkk', I just know that he is!
Something's wrong! Jeff Morrow is ... he's not right, up here," she said, and tapped her helmet. "I'm sure of it. I think he might be having a breakdown or something."
"I will go in and check on Rob and Serge," the Simiu said, now alarmed. He started to get off the scooter.
"No!" Heather grabbed his arm. "Khuharkk', you've got to go for help! I'm going to break into that bubbletent over there and call up to the station, but just in case I can't get through, or they won't listen to me--grown-ups have a problem listening to kids, they always think you're screwing around with them-- you've got to
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go for help!" She gave him a pleading look. "Right now, Honored Khuharkk'!
The longer I stay here, the more scared I'm getting that something awful is going to happen!"
"But Honored HealerGable told me to wait for him," the Simiu protested.
"You can't! You've got to get somebody to help!"
"Honored Janet Rodriguez?"
"No, I mean somebody with authority--Station Security. The cops! I never thought I'd hear myself say this, but we need the police, or the Irenics--
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