“Joaley’s flying the flit,” Malin said, as he locked the hatch and took the machine up off the ground, while the three late-comers were still scrambling for seats. “Lank’s with her. He said that he could spell her at the controls. I told them to go on, ahead of us, and to get away from the Margolis flyers by hook or by crook. Lank said that we should meet them on the island where Jock taught all of you to handle the flyer, after we’ve shaken any pursuers.
“Rakil has our sentient cargo as comfortable as is possible in the back space. Fasten your seat belts and hold onto your hats—I’m gonna do some fancy flying, the kind that would get us on to the other side of a Paradisan storm. It should get us away from the scum!”
“It’ll be easier than you think,” Jock told him. “It’ll be the Margolises’ goons are manning those machines. They may, in theory, know how to wield them, but I bet all their flying and shooting practise has been on a simulator; the Exalted of Margolises’ kind wouldn’t waste real ammo or real flying time on practise runs for their bodyguards!”
“We’ll, I’d still rather get away before they’re close enough to shoot at us,” Malin said, taking them up high, almost directly. “Even bad shots reach their targets, sometimes.”
“I’m with you on that one,” Kati said with feeling. “Even if a guy can’t hit the broad side of a barn, it’s not comfortable being between his weapon and the barn.”
She turned to Mikal who had the seat next to her. “Do you have any idea what triggered this response from the Margolises?” she asked. “Was it something we did down in The Keep?”
“Only thing I can think of is that there was some kind of an addition in that lock that I jimmied,” he replied. “I didn’t see anything, but then, I didn’t break the thing open. It could have had a sensor of some kind to set off alarms at the Resort if someone other than a Margolis handled it.”
“That would be it,” Jock told him. “The Oligarchs like stuff like that. The spy-eyes that Lank and Kati removed from Uncle Kelt’s flyers and flit are an example of such.”
“Ah yes. Senator Carmaks mentioned Kati and Lank’s workmanship,” Mikal responded with an amused grin.
“The Monk is quite familiar with spyware, especially of the vintage that the Vultairians buy,” Kati explained. “And Lank, for all he comes from a pretty, pastoral water world, has the mind of an engineering genius.”
Mikal had enveloped her hand in his larger one, and gently squeezed it. Her heart leapt with joy at this, and the smile that accompanied the gesture; she felt almost embarrassed by her reaction.
“Lank is absolutely amazing,” Rakil piped up, creating a welcome distraction. “The Ship Engineer on that crate with which we hitched a ride here would have loved to have kept him on, because, according to him, very few people have the mental equipment to understand Xeonsaur-designed star drives. And Lank could do that, without even breaking a sweat.”
“And he’s a damn fine musician, too,” Jock added. “Although I gather that his world is known for its music, so that’s not really a surprise.”
CHAPTER THIRTY
“Hey, there’s a guy coming after us who can fly!” Malin yelled. “At least he can fly a flit! The rest of the gnats have given up—probably decided that it was easier to check out The Keep than to try to catch either of us. But the pilot of this one must have realized that it’s easier to overtake a flyer with a flit, than another flit—especially since Joaley and Lank had more of a head start than we did. Does anybody have any idea what kind of weapons he might have?”
“That’s got to be handled by one of the Exalted,” Jock muttered, leaning over from his seat to stare at the bank of screens and sensors.
The flit was not in sight from any of the flyer’s windows; Kati checked this by looking all around.
“It’s underneath us, climbing fast,” Mikal murmured to her, giving her fingers another squeeze.
“I don’t really know about the weapons that the Margolis Family might have,” Jock added. “They can’t be too complicated, though. Maybe blasters, or laser cutters, adapted to the flit and operable while controlling the vehicle.”
“Old models, probably,” Mikal said. “Somebody is making a good profit unloading old stuff to the Vultairians.”
“Old guns kill you just as dead as the new models,” Malin countered, and Kati was glad that he was the one to say it. “There’s a storm to the east of us, over the ocean, not too far off. Normally the kind of weather to avoid at all costs, but in a flyer this size, being chased by a gnat of a flit.... Hang on tight folks, I’m going to head straight for it; I don’t think that our chaser will follow us—or if he does, he’ll be a drowned rat pretty soon. I believe that I can get us through the storm; once we’re on the other side we can go north, looking for our island rendezvous.”
“You sure that you know what you’re doing?” Jock asked in some alarm.
“If it’s humanly possible to do this,” Mikal said to him quietly, allowing Malin to concentrate on flying, “Malin is the person to do it. I spent some time on Paradiso and the weather can get pretty awful there during spring and fall. The storms they have are wicked, and Malin tells me that the flyers and the flits that they use there are of the same type and vintage as these ones. Anyone who flies on Paradiso has to learn to fly through storms. And if the notion of flying through a storm gives you the heebies, Jock, I doubt that our chaser will try to follow us; after all, both of you are products of this planet.”
“Xoraya tells me that the Ocean Sister will try to help us navigate through the storm,” Kati said, but did not let go of Mikal’s hand. “She won’t do anything to the flit following us, though. She won’t harm it, although she won’t help it either, if the pilot decides to fly into the storm.”
“I like the Ocean Sister’s attitude,” Mikal stated. “It’s a pleasure to deal with a Power that won’t harm creatures, even those who don’t hesitate to damage others.”
The flyer was hurtling eastwards at top speed. Malin had narrowed his attention to the view in front of him and the displays on the dash. The other four alert travellers fell silent, even as those of them who could see the dash followed the flit’s progress as it slowly gained on the flyer. When would it be in range to start shooting, Kati wondered, but was glad that she didn’t know, and did not ask the Granda to enlighten her. The bank of storm clouds which had been only a grey line on the distant horizon, became real, a black, roiling mass to the east, and below them, decorated by an unceasing assortment of lightning flashes. Inside the flyer they were insulated from the sound of thunder, but with her ESP sensitivity, Kati could almost taste the violence within this natural display. She clutched at Mikal’s fingers, grateful for his presence.
“If we must die,” she subvocalized to The Monk, “at least Mikal and I will die together.”
“And send me down to the bottom of this ocean,” The Monk grumbled back at her. “To be eaten by Vultairian fish, never to return to my mother, the Brain Planet.”
“Kati, don’t be silly,” came Xoraya’s thought, “none of us will die; the Ocean Sister won’t let us. We’re needed alive by this world, to help right things. Besides, Malin really does know how to fly this machine; storm or no storm, he’ll pull us through.”
The first flash of the laser cutter came just as they were entering the mist of the clouds. Whoever was flying the flit knew what he was doing.
“Jayzees!” Malin shouted. “That was close! He gains on us a few more metres and we don’t get out of his range, we’re toast!”
He was flying directly into the storm!
There was a second flash, all around the flyer, and the vehicle fell down through the clouds, like a rock dropping towards the ocean! The dashboard instrumentation showed that they had taken a direct, horizontal hit, the vehicle and its occupants sliced neatly into two!
Twenty metres down, the flyer shuddered to a stop. Every eye that could see the dash was staring at the image on the screen! Mouths were gaping; then howling
!
Rakil loosed his seatbelt and crawled into the rear, to check on Xoraya and Canna.
“I’m still definitely in one piece,” he informed the others. “And so are these women, thanks to the medical harnesses that we used to secure them.”
“How did you do that, Malin?” Jock asked, sounding shaky. “According to the instruments that was a direct hit! We shouldn’t be here!”
“I didn’t,” the Paradisan answered, piloting a path among the lightning flashes. “If that air pocket hadn’t been precisely there, precisely then, we’d all be dead. Whatever Goddess saved us has my most sincere thanks.”
“The Ocean Sister,” Kati whispered and heard Xoraya’s mental tone affirm the thought.
And then—
“Xoraya and Canna are starting to come out from under the tangle-juice!” she cried, undoing her seat belt. “The water! They’ll need water! Coming out from under the mind-tangler is a horrible, yucky, dry experience! We’ve got to try to ease them through it!”
“Ye gods, the timing couldn’t be much worse,” Mikal sighed, undoing his seat belt as he spoke. “I have some serious familiarity with the process myself, and I don’t think that being in a flyer in the middle of a thunderstorm is going to enhance it any! Rakil, please find the water; Malin keep flying; Jock, stay beside Malin to provide any support, physical or moral, that you can. I think that Kati and I have the most experience with what these women will go through, and we’ll do the best we can for them.”
*****
They may have left the flit with its laser cutter behind, but the passage through the storm was a trial for everyone in the flyer. Malin struggled with the flyer’s controls, trying to keep the vehicle on as even a keel as possible, and failing piteously most of the time, but, as Jock said later, at least he was keeping it in the air while lightning flashed all about them. Mikal helped Xoraya through the awakening process, keeping the flexible drink container in her mouth most of the time, dripping water into the dryness, in spite of the buffeting the flyer was taking.
Meanwhile, Kati was fretting about Canna. It had been Canna’s mental turmoil which had alerted her to the fact that the mind-tangler dosages were wearing off; had the rescuers not spirited the women away, they probably would have been given another drug dose soon. Canna was drifting towards awareness, and Kati understood how she had to be battling what felt like strands of sticky blackness that blocked the functioning of the human mind under the drug. However, there was the additional issue that Canna appeared to hate restraints; as her alertness increased, she fought harder and harder to free herself from the blankets and the medical harness which were keeping her from battering around the flyer interior. Wedged between the harness and the back of the nearest seat, Kati clutched a water bottle and tried to reach the woman’s troubled mind, to calm and reassure her, and to persuade her to accept the water. But Canna was not receptive to her efforts. Kati had thrown an envious glance, or a few, to where Mikal was holding a water bottle for Xoraya to greedily empty.
“Malin knows her,” Rakil, on Kati’s other side, softly said. “It’s a pity we can’t have him speak to her. She’d recognize his voice.
“If you want to remove the harness, maybe I can try to keep her from flopping around and about,” he added.
Kati shook her head.
“She’d just fight you instead of the restraints. No, we have to keep her in them until Malin gets us to the other side of this storm. I’m guessing that she’s reliving some bad memory that involves being tied up; else why spend her remaining energy battling the harness? She’s going to be horribly weak by the time the mind-tangles are gone, and, unfortunately, we’re not exactly a well-equipped hospital able to deal with emergencies.”
“You can’t do what you did with Kaya?” Rakil asked.
“She’s not allowing me in, and she doesn’t have the easy channels for mental exchanges that the Klensers do. I have the feeling that not even the Ocean Sister could do much for, or with, her right now,” Kati sighed. “I’d settle for getting some of this water into her. It’d be a place to start anyway.”
The flyer hit another air pocket then, not as big as the one that had saved their lives from the laser cutter, but Kati had to concentrate on remaining in her chosen spot. She heard Mikal curse, while Rakil clutched, white-knuckled at the arm-rest of the seat he was sprawled on.
“Ye gods, I’m grateful that these water-bottles are soft!” Mikal cried. “Otherwise Xoraya would have received some nasty damage to her eating apparatus!”
“My apologies!” Malin called from the pilot’s seat. “Those holes don’t come with warning signs! Try to endure a little longer; we’re pretty close to the other side of this system!”
Then:
“Wow man, Jock, look at this! Do you see what I see? There’s a clear corridor in front of us to the edge of the storm! That Goddess of yours, Kati, send her a gilt-edged thank-you note from me! We’re gonna make it through before I collapse!”
Kati closed her eyes for a moment to find a trace of the Ocean Sister. “Our pilot offers you his most sincere thanks for your help,” she sent, returning to her body before the Spirit’s energy could capture her into its dance.
When she opened her eyes again, Canna’s eyes were wide open, too, and she was looking around her as if searching for something or someone.
“Oh, Malin’s voice,” Kati said. “Canna recognized Malin’s voice! Yeah, Canna, Malin’s here but he’s busy flying this frigging machine we’re in, and it’ll be a while before he’ll be able to visit with you. In the meantime, can I interest you in some water?”
Canna’s answer was a croak which Kati took for an assent, and set the mouth piece of the bottle between her lips, turning the release mechanism to a steady drip, since the woman was likely too exhausted to do anything but swallow.
“If you could stop struggling against the restraints, things will be slightly easier for you,” she added. “As soon as Malin gets us out of this storm, we’ll release the harness and undo the blankets. Right now, there’s still some danger of us hitting another air pocket, and you’re in no shape to roll around the floor.”
*****
The sun was almost down by the time Joaley and Lank welcomed the flyer and its occupants to the rendezvous island. The two earlier arrivals had had the time to explore the ground about the rocky expanse they were using as tarmac, and had discovered an abundance of trees bearing sweet, juicy fruit that were very edible. They had picked enough of the globules to have plenty on hand for the later arrivals, knowing that the food supplies in the flyer would be low, even as they were in the flit. These were what the patients were fed, when the flyer finally did arrive with its exhausted occupants.
“Chicken broth would be better,” Kati muttered as she peeled the globes and fed Canna with bite size pieces. “But I’m afraid that my ex-Mother-in-law is nowhere around to make any.”
Joaley was providing the same service to Xoraya, while Rakil and Lank were going through what was left of the food supplies, to see if there was enough to share among the ones with healthy digestive systems. Malin and Jock had sat down beside the fruit stash, to peel and consume the globules avidly, thirsty and hungry after the ordeal of piloting the flyer through the storm, and the long distance to their present location. Jock had taken over the pilot’s chair once the flyer had weathered the storm, so Malin had had some rest, but he still looked ragged. Mikal was on his communicator, answering a call from Vorlund which had come a while ago, but which he had ignored in order to help tend the patients.
“Mikal, this is serious,” Vorlund was saying. “Why have you been ignoring your communicator? I was starting to think that I would have to try to raise you through Kati of Terra and her ESP talents!”
“You wouldn’t have gotten an answer from her either,” Mikal answered with a mental shrug. “She and I were both pretty busy, looking to the needs of our rescued captives, and making sure that they were safe during a storm that we had to fly
through. What’s up?”
“The Torrones Warship is what’s up,” Vorlund replied, with an unexpected chuckle. “Right above the Capital City, at that, in a geosynchronous orbit. They got here incredibly fast, so I suspect that someone sent them along, plenty before your call went through. A colleague of yours by the name of Arya r’pa Dorral wants to shuttle a contingent of Torrones Warriors down to the City as a part of The Official Investigative Team!”
“Ah, Arya! So my guess was correct! I thought that Maryse would send her to lead the Investigation! You can count on her to know what she’s doing!”
“If you say so.” Vorlund sounded dubious. “You don’t think that she’s going to risk a slaughter by bringing down Torrones Warriors?”
“Vascorn promised me that the Torrones that he’d send here would be the cream of the crop. Vultaire deserves that much, even if the Four Hundred Families have—most of them—lost their way. These guys know how to strut, paw the dirt, and display their antlers without actually doing any real damage. They’ll have the Exalted trying to find holes to crawl into. Oh, I hate to have to miss this sight! Our little Arya, striding about with Torrones in tow, telling everybody what to do, and having them all heed her words! If you can get the Port Authorities to release you on some pretext—like, perhaps the people of the Capital could use the services of a Master Healer—and provide you with transport, for heavens’ sake, go to Capital City and watch the show!”
“They might truly need me there,” Vorlund said thoughtfully. “The Port Authorities are in a panic, according to Josh. He has discovered that there are hundreds of people massing in the Capital City, converging around the Government Buildings. Protesters of some kind, and they’ve got the Oligarchs running around in circles.”
“Ah, the Klensers,” Mikal said, grinning broadly. “Ask the Forest Spirit about them if you want details of the protest.”
“So you agree with Arya r’pa Dorral’s plan, then,” Vorlund concluded. “I asked her to please hold off until I had talked to you. She said that she would.”
On Assignment to the Planet of the Exalted Page 72
