Sensitive

by Dan Donoghue

  “What's Pa'Lar doing here? How would he know that I could stop that thing?”

  “He doesn't. He intends to blast that area of the country off the globe. He would have done it already only he thinks his daughter might still be alive.”

  “What's he want High America for? He can't sell stuff from here once they know he's taken it. The USNCA will impound anything that so much as goes into orbit.”

  “It's doubtful if USNCA exists any more. We caught one of the bastards and made him talk. It seems the main reason old Pa'Lar sent his daughter up here was to get her well and truly out of the way. It seems he had reached a stage when he couldn't take senders anymore, and the doctors had warned him he couldn't keep on increasing the strength of the dampening drugs he was taking. It meant Mars, or the Moon, for the rest of his life, or get rid of senders. He decided to get rid of the senders. The only way he could do that was to grab power. Leeli, however, was starting to wonder what he was doing. He kept her busy with as many things as he could, but he was frightened she'd read him, and someone would read her. I suppose he thought she'd be as safe up here as down there anyhow when he made his move.

  Apparently he grabbed power as soon as she had spaced. It worked for a bit too, but he couldn't wait long enough to make his position secure. He started wiping out the senders, and all hell broke loose. It seems he tried to take the heat off by launching a surprise attack on the Coms. Anyway what's left of the Earth is hardly habitable, and sensies are outlawed to be killed on sight.

  All the while, Pa'Lar and his private army were up aloft, and when the bastards saw what they had done, they spaced for here. They've given us a week to surrender. Anyone who hasn't come in by then isn't going to be allowed in. Those of us who haven't committed any war crimes are supposed to be going to be able to live as free citizens. Not you of course. They've orders to shoot you on sight.

  “The bastard is scared of you.”

  “Why? I didn't give him much trouble last time.” Wolf said bitterly.

  “I asked the one we've got, what they had against you, and it appears you hit them pretty hard with the mind thing when they were carting you off. Killed the listener in the court, and bloody near half the others around. Apparently old Pa'Lar got a dose of you, and that's what knocked him about so much he had to hurry things, and they came apart. That would make him hate your guts, but on top of it, he's scared of you. You can take him out, just by hating him, and from a distance. He can't land here until you're dead. Now, what I want to knows is, what can you do for us now with this sensie thing of yours?”

  “What is the situation if I can't do anything?”

  “We surrender inside three days for the sake of the women and kids.”

  What will it mean to you?”

  “At the best it'll mean living under Pa'Lar. He's a psychopath. He'll kill anyone he so much as takes a dislike to, and he's a listener. Think what sort of tyrant he'd make, and he's got a whole crew somewhere out there just like him. It's a damned shame you destroyed that thing.”

  “I didn't destroy it. I turned it off.”

  “You mean you can turn it back on again. Could we shift it? Point it up?”

  “No.”

  “Is there any way we could use the damned thing?”

  Wolf remained silent for a long minute while all eyes studied him. “Is there no other way. I could be useful. I could get through most lines. I can tell where men are—what they're doing.”

  Courteau smiled tiredly. “It's too late son. We haven't the packs for the lasers, and perhaps I didn't make myself clear. At the end of the week all those who have surrendered are going to be vaccinated, and the place is going to be germ bombed. It's a special germ developed in old Pa'Lar's own institution. Only has an active life of about three months, but in that time it breeds in, and kills, every type of life form known to man, that is on Earth and High America. There won't be any sort of life form left on the whole continent, and probably not on the whole planet. Actually I think it's only that he still hopes Leeli is alive that has stopped him front hitting us so far.”

  “How much of your week is left?”

  “Five days. Now what about that thing? Those germs are real, he sent copies of the development reports. Only those he vaccinates will survive, and I don't think many of our men will get it. He's got a lot of soldiers, and damn all women.”

  “Is Margaret all right?”

  The words were met with a sudden silence. All eyes swung to Cort. He sat stiffly, face averted. Wolf swung violently back to Courteau. “captured, I'm afraid, and—hurt.”

  “What do you mean hurt?” Wolf glared at Courteau for an instant, then the colour drained from his face until it was a dull grey-white. He swung on Cort. “How—” but again his mind sought and knew before the question could be asked.

  “I'll go and get her,” he said.

  “No!” Courteau snapped. “We need you here. What about this thing? What can we do with it?”

  Wolf straightened up slowly, and picked up the laser from the table.

  “We'll discuss it when I get back,” he said softly.

  “No! You stay here. That's an order!”

  “I don't take orders, Governor. I never joined any army of yours. I'm going. If any of your men tries to stop me, I'll kill them, and you.”

  “You didn't have to join. You are under martial law. Unless I say so you'll never get out of this camp alive.”

  “And you'll die of germs. I think not, Governor.”

  “If you try to go in there, you'll be killed. You're putting the whole country at risk for the sake of one. If you can do anything to help, it's your duty to do it here, and now.”

  Wolf paused at the flap of the tent. “I can do something. Governor. I can turn this place into another Death Island, but the thing is a machine, Governor. It can't tell one man from another, or a man from a woman. To the south of here are limestone caves. Cort knows them. The thing does not reach in them. People in there would survive, all others would die—horribly. I'll turn it on only when Margaret is in that cave.”

  Courteau stared at him, his face reflecting his rush of thoughts. “You mean it'll take them all. Wipe them out just like that?”

  Wolf nodded. “It's a terrible thing.”

  “Terrible to hell! If it'll get rid of the bastards, that's what we want! And I don't give a damn how it does it. But they've got Margaret right in the middle of the city. You can't get at her. Isn't there any way you could use the thing first. The prisoners are locked up, they couldn't go, and perhaps we could cure them later.”

  “The thing destroys minds, Governor, and it produces pain the like of which I have never known. I didn't find Leeli Pa'Lar dead, Governor. She was still alive until I turned that thing off, and then I read what was left of her mind, Governor. It was horrible—there are no words to describe it. I could not bear to read that agony, Governor. I had loved her once, but I shot her—blasted her! I will not do that to Margaret, not for you or anyone, or thing else! She is my world! I'll not destroy her to save yours. If you would see your enemy destroyed, help me to rescue her. Then get her to the caves in the south.”

  Courteau nodded reluctantly. He turned to Cort. “Is it possible?”

  “Normally no. But for two hundred years it was impossible for a sensie to live here. Now it apparently isn't. I, for one, am willing to try. There is nothing else we can do, and she's my daughter.”

  He looked across at Wolf. “She loves you. She told me so. I know she went to your room the other night. I hated you then. But get her out of there, and she, and anything I own is yours.”

  Wolf nodded slightly. “What is the best route in?”

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  * * *

  Chapter 15

  Wolf lay in the ruins of a bakery, and stared across the rubble strewn street to the high fence of the city's sports reserve where the prisoners were housed. Behind him lay half a night of climbing up a little known track from the gorge to the
plateau, a slow, careful mapping of a route prisoners might take out through the defences. All along the route, men lay hidden to guide any that might succeed in getting so far. It was a tortuous track, picked out by Wolf's mind sweep, and checked, and double checked.

  Now he waited. At one, a diversion in the form of an attack on the space port, was due to be mounted. He would move just before then. While he waited he found each guard, checked his state of alertness, and the cover along the approach. Apart from his powers, he had two real advantages. The guards had a typical soldier's contempt for the common men, and they had not taken the trouble to strengthen the fences, depending on their own fighting superiority, and their confidence that the struggle would be short lived.

  At nine minutes to one, Wolf slid his hand back, and quietly drew a short spear from the sound deadening wrappings. Then, like a shadow, a drifting of smoke, or the dullness of an eye between blinkings, he crossed the street. An alert guard might have seen something, but this guard had come from a small party of his friends who had looted a home of its liquor, and had kept it hidden from their officers. He was drowsy. He resented having to do guard duty. His head nodded. He heard a slight click, a tiny touch of steel on stone. He lifted his head to look about, suddenly afraid that an officer might have seen his lapse. A faint stir in the darkness, a whisper from the shadows, and the steel pointed shaft pierced the base of his throat, cleaved his spinal cord, and slid on until half its length projected from his back. He died with a barely audible gurgle, and a slight thud.

  Wolf flicked out of the blackness, as silent, and as savage as the beast he was named for. He crouched for a moment. Starlight gleamed on the blade of a knife as he retrieved the spear. Then, like a wraith of the dead, he merged once more with the shadows—a darkness faintly darker than the night.

  The second of the outer guard was more alert. He stood tall, and watched the shadows, but his thoughts were on one of the captive women, and the joys of the conquerors, and he knew not the terrible rage those thoughts awoke. He heard no whisper of his danger, until his head was snatched back, and the knife had slashed his throat. He was held upright while he died. Then he was quietly lowered to the ground.

  And so five men died from spear or knife until the way was clear to the buildings where the prisoners slept. At that door were two more guards, together, and there were lights there. Wolf waited in the shadows. He sought their minds. One had need to relieve his bladder. He too had enjoyed stolen liquor. Wolf waited. The diversion started. Laser beams sparked, and there came the dull, distant crump of explosives.

  The guards became more alert, and wondered aloud what was going on. They shifted position. There came a stirring inside also. The guard with the uncomfortable bladder walked to the corner of the building to where he could get a glimpse of the distant battle. He called back to his companion, and walked towards the shadows fumbling with his buttons. He stumbled a little, and his companion jeered. Then there was silence, and Wolf walked out of the darkness.

  The guard looked up, then glanced away. Suddenly, he sensed something wrong, even opened his mouth, but only a grunt and a gush of blood and breath escaped him as he folded over the spear, and hugged the bloody shaft to his stomach all the way to the ground.

  Wolf stepped into his place, and stood as a guard. There was no challenge, no mind in clamour. He slipped the bolt from the door, and passed inside.

  Swiftly, he used his mind to locate the men Courteau had told him were most reliable. It took great control not to waste time in seeking Margaret. As quickly as possible, he told of the escape route. They moved off, shaking sleep from their minds. Sleeping children were awakened as silently as the need for speed would allow.

  Wolf moved quickly, his mind flicking from mind to mind about him. A man who had sold out to the enemy died as he tried to find out what was going on. He was the only plant in the building. Only when it seemed safe, did Wolf seek Margaret. She lay on a makeshift stretcher, awake, and questioning. Wolf dropped to his knees beside her. Suddenly she knew him, and started violently. “Hush,” he whispered, and gently folded his arms about her.

  For a few moments she lay relaxed, hardly breathing in his arms, then she stirred. “What is happening?” Fear made her tense.

  “I've come to take you out of here.”

  “Can you? Can you?” For a moment there was hope, then a terrible despair. “I don't think I can walk!”

  “I'll carry you to your father.”

  She made some protest, but he picked her up, and carried her through the milling throng to the door. The men he had alerted were trying to create order. Women were frantically looking for lost children, husbands for wives, the wounded were arguing with friends and relatives, all in a confusion of hissing whispers. Over by the space port, the battle built up to a violent climax.

  Swiftly Wolf told the men at the door what he was doing, then, before they could protest, he was gone. Just beyond the bakery, he passed Margaret to Cort, and slid back into the shadows carrying an armful of lasers.

  A soldier was wandering towards the buildings wondering where the guard was. He concluded that they had taken the opportunity to get in to the women, and was contemplating their good fortune, when he jerked and died.

  Inside, there was some sort of order at last. The first of the prisoners crept fearfully through the door, and furtively scuttled into the shadows. The lights were the greatest danger, but to turn them off would invite investigation. Wolf stood outside, his mind questing for any sudden alarm. A couple of soldiers slinking down the street on a mission of their own, were detected, and destroyed before they came in sight of the straggling line of people.

  Fifteen minutes, and most were gone, over through the bakery, and into the hands of Cort's men, strung out into single file, and urged along. The wounded were being carried out when there was a sudden shout. Wolf spun. His laser lanced a thin blade of light energy, and the shout cut short, but the damage was done. The men he had armed, opened fire also, and there was confusion for a few minutes, but the soldiers were well trained, and barked orders brought instant response. The last of the wounded had to be abandoned, and Wolf and his men made a noisy withdrawal through the city, drawing the pursuit away from the escapees.

  Within seconds the whole city was roused, but befuddled troops assumed that an attack had been launched against the city, and turned their attention outwards. Then it was realised that firing was coming from inside, and searchlights blazed down the streets. Then escape might seem impossible, but still there were darknesses, and shadows, and Wolf's leaping mind found weaknesses in the lines.

  Three men were lost in sudden bursts of firing, but the rest broke through, and dropped down over the side of the plateau, and scattered into the jungle that sparkled, hissed, and smoked under the massed onslaught of vengeful lasers, and a blind rain of mortars.

  The battle for the space port had faded during the escape, and an uneasy quiet settled over jungle and city alike. Men on both sides looked to their weapons, and thanked their own particular Gods, or fates, that they were still alive.

  In his ship far above, Pa'Lar slept peacefully, and his companions decided not to wake him, for they saw no special significance in the escape of prisoners who must soon surrender once more, or the abortive attack on the defences of the space port. It was, they told each other, the last desperate assault by an enemy who knew himself defeated.

  As the days passed without word of Leeli or Wolf Carthar, Pa'Lar's companions preferred Pa'Lar asleep.

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  * * *

  Chapter 16

  The first faint light of dawn was whitening the eastern skies, and fading the stars, when Wolf identified himself at the first line of camp defence, and slipped through. Already there was movement, and the subdued murmur of many voices. Children crouched in tight groups under the watchful eyes of adults, and women moved ghost-like through the mist smoked trees. Courteau was waiting with his little group of men. Few of the
m looked as though they had enjoyed much sleep, but the apathy of the previous evening had given way to a sense of purpose. “Is Margaret all right?” Wolf asked immediately.

  “She's in the tent with Cort. The doctor has seen her. Wait. It might be best to talk to him before you go in.”

  Wolf paused, then swung off in the direction indicated. The doctor was a lean, quick man with tired eyes, and a face deeply printed with a lifetime of care. “Carthar eh? You're the one that brought them out. My wife and son.” He nodded to a woman who stood over by a group of children. “What can I do for you?”

  “Courteau told me to see you before I talked to Margaret Cort.”

  “Margaret, eh? What is your interest in Margaret?”

  “I hope to marry her when this is over.”

  “And she?”

  “It is her wish also.”

  “I see.” The doctor paused for a moment and looked up through the dense canopy of leaves to the lightening sky while Wolf impatiently debated whether he should read him or not, but then he sighed, and continued. “Margaret is hurt. She was abused by soldiers, big men, you understand, who used no shields. That in itself would create problems, but conditions were bad. She suffered infection. She apparently received treatment by their medical staff, and she will get well, that I have no doubt, but I am doubtful, very doubtful indeed, if she will ever be able to bear children. I'm sorry,” he added as he watched the expression of dismay on Wolf's face. “If Earth were still—ar—functioning—it would only be a matter of taking her there for treatment, but—” He did not finish, but shrugged in a gesture of helplessness.