Rescue from the Planet of the Amartos

by Dale Olausen

  "Oh yes. The blaze of Stone-fire has been damped."

  "Damped?"

  "Damped. Brought under control. Eliminated, almost. The germ of the flame still exists in each of the stones but they no longer shoot flames in all directions. There's not much fire left at all."

  "I see. Does that help us?"

  "Oh yes. It will be much harder for anybody trying to trace the Stones to find them. But it also means that your Sarah cannot be the only sensitive involved in this. A strong, untrained sensitive can, under stress, unintentionally key Stones, but there is no way she could know how to damp them. It's not talked about, except among ourselves. To do it, you have to know that it's possible, and you have to have some idea, at least, of how to go about it. I'm not saying that your Sarah could not have done it, only that someone must have been present to tell her that it can be done, and how to do it."

  "The Organization Hounds - no there's no way they could have got there yet...."

  "And we're keeping unobtrusive tabs on what they're doing with their machine," the Witch added crisply. "I'm sure they have not been in mind-contact with the girl."

  "But, nevertheless...."

  "Nevertheless, the damping happened," the Witch finished his sentence for him. "That means that there's yet another unknown in the picture. On our side or theirs, we don't know."

  "I'm on my way to that planet as soon as I can be," Coryn said. "I've got hold of a very fast ship and hope to win the race with the Hounds. I don't want to see either the Stones or the girl in The Organization’s hands."

  "Good. The Stones must come here to Kordea, of course. As for the girl - "

  "She's one of ours." Coryn was firm. "We take care of our own."

  The Stone-sensitive that The Organization hounds had successfully snatched had been a half-Kordean girl, known by the Witches to be amarto-sensitive but ignored because of her half-breed status. She had mind-screamed after the Hounds had begun to use her but, as a half-blood she had not been entitled to the protection of the Witch Circles. As the Agent who had talked to the girl’s mother, Coryn could not help but carry a grudge towards the Witches on account of the incident. Not only had an innocent girl been doomed to a living hell - and might have, or might not have, died a nasty death - but through her, The Organization had gained frightening powers.

  "Fine." The Witch let the implied criticism pass. "We will do what we can to help you. If we must, we will do mind battle with the Hounds."

  "Good. I'll keep in touch as required."

  Max stood at the door of the small communications room.

  "That's Ferhil Stones you're dealing with, isn't it?" he asked. Coryn nodded and Max continued: "The Circle of the Twelve, the biggest of the Seven Circles. Good allies to have on our side."

  "I guess so," Coryn agreed, leading the way back into the living room. "Obviously, though, nothing's going to get done, as usual, unless we Agents do most of the work. Ready to hear my battle plan?"

  "Fire away." Fiana looked expectant.

  "I presume neither of you will mind if I hog the active role for myself. The Camin 001 is a good little ship, and I'm sure Carovan has handpicked me a competent pilot. I'll need you looking after my communications like you usually do, Fiana."

  Fiana nodded. They had cooperated in this manner many times before, during Coryn's not infrequent trips off RES. Because space station gossip linked them together as lovers - erroneously as it happened - nobody ever questioned Fiana's access to Coryn's rooms during his absences.

  "And Max, the tough one's for you." He paused for a few seconds. "If I don't succeed and the Hounds get the Stones and the girl, there is only one thing to be done. I leave you to persuade our dull-witted politicians that it must be done, and quickly, if things go wrong."

  "I was afraid you'd ask me to do that," said Max sorrowfully.

  "We can't tolerate The Organization's existence any longer if they have a sackful of amartos and a highly sensitive young girl in their hands," Coryn said coldly, shaking his head. "The Chief will have to sign an order permitting the War Fleet to raze the bastards right off their planets. It's that or slavery for the entire inhabited galaxy."

  "I'll pray that it won't come to that," Max said. "In the meantime, however, I'll get in touch with every influential contact I have with the lawmakers. If necessary, I'll try to create a panic."

  Coryn flashed a wan smile. "If I fail you won't have to fabricate it. I'll count on you," he said.

  Chapter Eleven

  By the time the scoutship Camin 001 arrived in Port, Coryn had everything arranged. He had programmed his elaborate communications system to transfer any messages to the small communicator in Fiana's apartment. He had instructed the electronic door controller to let the alyena in at will. His bag was packed. There was nothing more to be done.

  The call from the Camin's pilot was a relief.

  "Do you think that you could make it to the ship in fifteen minutes Mr. Leigh?" the young man asked. "Carovan said that we were in a hurry, so I arranged clearance for a take-off in twenty minutes. Control won't be very happy if I miss the slot."

  Mr. Leigh rather thought that he could. He grinned at Fiana who had stayed to see him off.

  "Sounds like Carovan outdid himself in choosing the pilot," he commented. "I'd like to know how the chap managed to get clearance for takeoff in twenty minutes. Usually the small ships wait at the end of the line whether or not their business is urgent. Never mind if the richest man in the galaxy is aboard. I'd expected to have to show my Agency credentials and scream bloody murder to get such quick clearance."

  "I've buzzed for the minauto. It'll be outside," Fiana said softly.

  Before Coryn climbed into the little vehicle she gave him a warm hug.

  "Take care, my friend," she admonished. He nodded solemnly. She was beautiful, he thought. He, of course, was also attractive in his fashionable travelling suit. To anyone watching, it would have looked like business as usual: there was that faithless Coryn Leigh going off again, leaving his lovely lady friend alone. Why did Fiana put up with him? There were dozens of men on RES, men who were prepared to stay on RES instead of running around the galaxy, men who would worship at her feet. Mind you, women who were in a position to know said that Coryn Leigh was skilful at his trade....

  Five minutes before the deadline, Coryn climbed up into the scoutship. He was met at the ship's entrance by the pilot, whose jaw dropped at the sight of him. Coryn chuckled; he knew, well enough, that he looked like the very epitome of the well-dressed playboy. The young man had probably expected a balding, middle-aged diplomat.

  "I'm Coryn Leigh." He extended his hand. "I gather that Carovan told you that this mission is urgent. Your name is...?"

  "Steph Clennan." The pilot swallowed, and shook hands.

  It was clear from Clennan's reaction that he had little use for dandies. But he was adjusting admirably. That wasn't surprising, Coryn reflected, Carovan surrounded himself with capable people.

  Steph Clennan was no dandy, that was for sure. He was not even attractive, at least not in a conventional sense. He had a thin face, a sharp nose and prominent ears. But his eyes were darkly intelligent and his body was sinewy and tough. His movements had the grace native to a spacer, but were accentuated by something more - Coryn judged it to be self-confidence, the self-confidence of one who is certain he knows his job.

  There was no time for further conversation. Clennan returned to the ship's controls while Coryn appropriated one of the tiny sleeping cubicles at the back of the ship. He peeled off his fashionable suit to change into clothes more suitable for roughing it on a backwoods planet. As he searched through his suitcase he could hear the pilot cracking jokes with somebody at the Clearance Control. The Camin 001 was taking off.

  Once the ship had achieved deep space, Coryn returned to the control area. He sat down next to the star screen and toyed idly with its keyboard, bringing up images of various sectors of the galaxy. Out of the corner of his eye, he observed
Clennan who appeared to be engrossed by the ship's control panel. At last the pilot finished, set the ship onto auto-pilot and turned his attention to Coryn.

  "So just where exactly are we headed?" Clennan asked, his eyes taking in Coryn's change of dress.

  Coryn consulted his wrist computer for the coordinates that the Witch Alta had given him. He handed the star screen keyboard to the pilot, who quickly entered the coordinates.

  The two men watched with fascination as the star screen went to work. A succession of star pictures swirled across the screen as the computer went through its search, narrowing its focus with each view. Finally, the screen was dominated by the image of a solar system that had at its centre a large, reddish star. Five planets circled it.

  "That's it," Clennan said. "Those coordinates point to the third planet."

  He opened a text window in a corner of the screen and scanned it curiously.

  "Not much info in the banks," he commented. "Nobody has, as yet, recorded a landfall on the ball-o-mud. Probes tell us it's a Type A - capable of supporting human life - that's about all. No offence, but you don't strike me as the explorer type. Are you sure that those were the right coordinates? Is that where you want us to go?"

  Coryn laughed loudly. "Oh yes." He rather enjoyed the pilot's discomfort.

  "I'll brief you on our mission as soon as you've got the Camin moving in the right direction. How many omega-jumps are we going to have to endure?"

  Clennan turned to the navigation controls. "Two majors ought to do it," he replied shortly. He studied the numbers on the screen intently. "We're awfully close to the coordinates for the first jump right now – how 'bout if I take her straight through the hop, then you can fill me in on the rest of the details?"

  "Suits me," said Coryn.

  Clennan concentrated on the ship's controls. Coryn noted with satisfaction the confident manner with which the pilot's hands flew among the switches, buttons and keyboards that controlled the ship. He was grateful, once again, for Carovan's knack for picking the right person for the job.

  Coryn knew that Clennan's natural instincts were to mistrust the dandy that he thought he had been paired with. However, he was confident that once that prejudice had been dealt with, the two of them would work well together. Considering the odds they were up against, that was vital.

  He reviewed the situation that faced them as he awaited the omega-jump. Sarah Mackenzie, a strong amarto-sensitive, was somewhere on the planet that they were going to. She had, inadvertently, it seemed, keyed a substantial number of amartos. But, somehow that Stone-fire had been extinguished.

  However, he was sure that The Organization Hounds had caught the scent. They had their powers; even the Kordean Witches had, however grudgingly, come to respect them. After all, they had chosen not to risk any large scale ESP activity to seek the jewels in question. Rather, they were counting on the cumbersome methods of the ESP-blind Terrans to fetch the girl and those dangerous gems.

  "We're jumping in five seconds."

  Coryn drew a deep breath. He relaxed his body and allowed his thoughts to wander where they would. He was a seasoned traveler, used to omega-jumping. The jump was only the briefest moment of dissolution, during which his being seemed to lose all sense of connectedness. In no time, he was back aboard the Camin, seated by the star screen, staring into the coffee mug in his hand. The brown liquid sloshed around gently.

  Steph Clennan set the ship's controls on auto-pilot, and dialled himself a drink from the beverage dispenser. The two men arose, and moved into the "living quarters" of the craft's limited space. Coryn sat at the tiny table and studied his opposite.

  "Did Carovan brief you at all for this job?" Coryn asked the pilot curiously.

  "Not much." Clennan shook his head. "Only to say that the mission was top secret, speed was absolutely essential, and that I was to trust you implicitly." He stared at Coryn, then shook his head again. "He said that he himself would trust you with his life."

  Coryn burst out laughing. "Good old Carovan! Trust him to think of everything! Yeah, I hardly look like a fellow entrusted with a top secret mission!"

  "If you don't mind my saying so, Mr. Leigh, you certainly don't," agreed Clennan. He seemed relieved to have the subject out in the open.

  "Oh, can the Mr. Leigh routine, for Heaven's sake," Coryn snapped. "Everyone calls me Coryn."

  "Okay, I'd be happy to do that." The pilot's grin was mischievous. "I just didn't want to be disrespectful. My first name's Steph, by the way, in case you've forgotten."

  "I haven't," protested Coryn. "In my business - both of them - it's important to have a good memory."

  "I had you pegged as one of those - what's the term – an alyen? The guys who make rich women happy in bed, for a price?" Steph Clennan's voice was cool. Was there a hint of disgust in his tone?

  Coryn leaned back and eyed the younger man curiously.

  "As a matter of fact, you had me pegged correctly," he stated calmly. "I do make a good living within that interesting and honourable profession. However, it just so happens that I'm an alyen, not because of any deep need to make unhappy women happy, if only for a moment, but because it happens to make a damn good cover for my other activities as an Agent. I track down Organization connections."

  "Ah, I see! So this is an Agency mission!" The dark eyes opened wide.

  "Indeed," agreed Coryn. "This certainly is an Agency mission."

  He gazed thoughtfully at the pilot for a moment or two. "Happen to know anything at all about amartos?" he then asked.

  Steph Clennan opened his mouth and stared back.

  "Know anything about amartos!" he cried. "Me!" He lowered his voice. "Hell, yes. I grew up on Space Station ZAR. One of the planets that ZAR services is Chantilla, and there - once - were amartos on Chantilla."

  Aha! Things that Coryn had noted about the young pilot began to fall into place. ZAR was a fringe space station - fringe to the fringe, actually. It existed to service a handful of marginally A-type planets which should never have been colonized. One of them was a hell-hole called Chantilla which had enjoyed a brief moment of glory years ago. A small number of dull green stones found on Chantilla had turned out to be amartos. Unfortunately, the colonists of Chantilla had missed that one opportunity to make money, and to leave for a more hospitable place. Instead, their descendants still mined the rocks of the unpleasant world, and dreamed about making another lucky find.

  If Chantilla was a hole, ZAR could not have been much better. The space station was as poor as the planets it serviced, and Steph Clennan's childhood must have been full of hardships, and devoid of luxuries. How he had fought his way from there into the ranks of Carovan's elite pilots must, without doubt, be a fascinating story in itself! That was certainly why Carovan had chosen him for this mission! Carovan would have guessed that if Coryn wanted the use of the Camin 001, something big was up, and he had assigned his toughest space rat to the pilot's job!

  Clennan's distaste for the profession of an alyen made sense in this context as well. The flesh-trade was part of the inner-galaxy decadence which the people from the fringes looked upon with scorn. It was indeed credit to Carovan's influence that the pilot had consented to trust Coryn – or even to allow him inside the Camin in the first place.

  "Amartos. The Witches’ Stones," Clennan way saying dreamily. "In that corner of the galaxy we all were more or less in love with their mystery. Everyone waited for another find on Chantilla, yet I truly don't believe there ever will be one."

  "So you have some notion of the powers ascribed to the Witches’ Stones?" Coryn asked.

  Clennan nodded. "As a child I used to listen to the stories that my grandfather told. He had them from his mother - she had been a crewmember on the ship that carried the Stones to Kordea. She claimed to have actually seen one of the famed Witches."

  "I have a new story for you," said Coryn drily. "Try putting together amartos and The Organization."

  "You can't mean - " The pilot's stare
d at the Agent's grim expression and his face turned pale. Obviously Coryn did mean.

  "Just a minute, though." Clennan was not ready to accept the implications of what he had been told. "They can't do anything with even a handful of Stones unless they have a sensitive to channel the energy."

  "Well, they have one. Or had one." Coryn laugh was mirthless. "A half-Kordean girl seduced from Trahea. And if we fail to accomplish what we're on our way to do, they'll get another, as well as a whole pile of amartos."

  A silence fell between them while Clennan absorbed the import of Coryn's statement.

  "And what, exactly, are we on our way to do?" the pilot asked at last. The gaze with which he met Coryn's inquiring eyes was perfectly level.

  "Oh, we merely go to that mudball that you've got this ship headed for, pick up the amartos that are known to be there, plus the Stone-sensitive Terran girl who seems to have inadvertently keyed the things. We do this before The Organization Hounds - who almost certainly are already on the trail - beat us to it. We carry the Stones to Kordea, and the girl to some safe place of our choice, and while doing so avoid getting blasted out of existence by the Hounds who almost certainly will be able to trace our every movement once we have the jewels on board."

  Clennan sat deep in thought for a minute. "Are we getting any help from the Witches?" he then asked.

  "They've promised to do mind-battle with the Hounds if necessary," Coryn replied with a sigh. "And I have here - " he indicated his wrist unit, " - all the information that they have about the location of the Stones and, presumably, if she's still where they are, the girl. The trouble is that The Organization has accomplished a lot with the amartos in their possession, and that girl whom they harnessed to their ESP-machine. The Witches's hands are tied; they don't dare perform any spectacular feats for fear that The Organization scientists will be able to figure out how to copy them."

  "We can only try," the pilot said quietly.