Get Off the Unicorn (7 page)

“You may be infatuated with this Sodan,” Larak said, “but it doesn't affect your cooking. Doesn't even taste scorched.”

Too much a woman not to be pleased by even a brother's praise, Damia relaxed.

“He isn't an advance scout for a second invasion force, I gather,” Larak addressed Afra.

“No. In the very brief touch I had,” Afra replied quickly, “he's been traveling much longer than twenty years.”

Larak whistled appreciatively, just as if he didn't know this already.

“Did you take a look around at the details my sweet sister is uninterested in?” he asked.

“No. There were no obvious visual images and I was only concerned with recognition.”

“He has eyes,” Damia replied loyally. “We've discussed the concept of sight. You must take into consideration that he is also the controller of the ship, and the drain on his energies reaching me and managing his crew and ship must be enormous. It certainly is on me.”

“Yeah. You need your beauty sleep—bad,” said Larak.

“I'd like to see you do half as well.”

“Children! Cut it out!” Afra intervened authoritatively.

Larak and Damia glared at each other, but the long habit of obeying Afra held.

“Both of you, get to bed,” he added. “Snarling at each other in the worst example of sibling rivalry I've seen since you returned from Isthia's an opinionated ten-year-old. Makes me wonder how your father dared put you in as Aurigan Prime.”

“If there's anything that annoys me more than Larak acting fraternal, it's you, Afra, making like the older generation.” She spoke coolly, but her flare of temper had subsided.

Afra shrugged, relieved that his diversion had worked before Larak inadvertently showed Damia why he was probing these particular areas.

“At least, this generation's representative has sense enough to go to bed when he's out on his feet,” he muttered. As he passed Larak, the boy winked.

The next morning at breakfast, no one looked as if he had slept well. Afra kept a surface rumble going in his mind to mask both tension and anxiety. Larak delivered a running monologue on his son. Damia was also closely shielding. When they reached the Tower, Damia took the most cursory glance at Station business, and said “I'll take you out now, Larak.”

“Fine. Dad wants Afra back at Callisto tonight.”

Damia hesitated. “Afra had better come along, then, for a second look around.” She looked challengingly at Afra, who shrugged.

This was, however, unexpected luck. Afra had thought he might have to follow Larak and Damia surreptitiously. He switched the boosters up to the top, and signaled Damia and Larak to get into their capsules. While they did so, he called Jeff and the Rowan to stand by, then settled into his own shell, reassured by their sustaining presence in his mind.

Is there any possible chance we're wrong about Sodan's intentions, or the depth of Damia's emotional commitment?
pleaded the Rowan.

Less and less,
Afra told her, grimly.
We'll know soon for certain. Larak needled her last night. She'll have to check to make sure he's wrong.

Then he touched Damia and Larak, and all three went the mere half-light further to the ship and Sodan.

You have rested well and are strong today,
was the cool greeting after an instant's welcoming flash.

Damia instinctively covered against the discovery of her co-riders, but the greeting stuck in her mind. There was the hint that Sodan did not wish her so strong, and yet a tinge of relief colored that fleck of thought.

You come nearer to physical contact with us every day,
she began.

Us?
Sodan queried.

My planet, my people . . . me.

I'm only interested in you
, he replied.

But my people will be interested in you,
she parried unable to censor from Afra and Larak the pleasure she felt in his compliment.

There are many people on your planets?
he asked.

Planet.

At least, Afra concluded, she remembered to be politically discreet.

Doesn't your sun have several life-supporting satellites?

That is why I must know more about your physical requirements.
Damia replied smoothly.
After all, my home world may not have the proper atmosphere . . .

My physical wants are attended to,
Sodan replied coldly, with a slight emphasis on the second word.

It was the Rowan who caught the infinitesimal break in his shielding, and simultaneously all four minds stabbed at the area to lay it bare. Sodan, torn by this powerful invasion, lashed back in self-defense with a vicious blow at Damia, whom he thought perpetrated the attack.

No, no! Not I, Sodan,
she screamed.
Larak, what are you doing?

Afra struggled frantically to become the focus of the other minds, only to find himself caught in Larak's mind with the Rowan and Jeff, as the curious bond between brother and sister snapped into effect.

He must be destroyed before he can destroy you, Damia,
the Larak-focus said, tinging its inexorable decision with the regret it felt.

No! I love him. His mind is so brilliant,
cried Damia, pitting her own strength against her peers to defend her lover. The Larak-focus staggered back, unable to prosecute and attack against such a combination.

Damia, he is only a mind!

Stunned, Damia hestitated, and the Larak-focus plunged forward again, battering against the shielded Sodan.

Only mind?
She gasped, begging Sodan to deny it.

Why no vision? Why no sound? He is only a brain, devoid of all except remembered emotion. He is bound here to destroy. Feel the heavy stuff in the ship? Is that customary for a peaceful scouting expedition?

You're against me, against me. No one wants me to be happy,
cried Damia, suddenly aware, terribly aware of her loving blindness.
He loves me. I love him.

If he has nothing to hide, he will let you see,
the Larak-focus continued implacably.

Let me see you, Sodan.
Damia was pleading, desperately, hopefully.

For what seemed an eternity, Sodan hesitated.

If I could, I would,
he said softly and with honest regret.

Like a vengeful sword, her mind, freed from the infatuation Sodan had artfully fostered, gathered and sprang with the others to destroy the aggressor. For Damia now understood the purpose behind Sodan's impersonality. The battle was waged in the tremendous space between two heartbeats. Sodan, his mind fortified by the nuclear power of his ship, was stronger than their conservative estimates. And almost negligently, he held the Larak-focus at bay, his mind laughing at what he considered their puny efforts.

Then Damia's pressure increased as she stripped away the veil of her romantic illusions to align herself with the Larak-focus to defend her Sector. Sodan called for more power within himself. The scorching blaze that fed through Damia's growing catalystic mind flashed through and stripped him bare, lashing beyond to trigger the atoms of the ship into instability. Involuntarily, and for a microsecond, Sodan's past flickered.

Once, generations ago, embodied, he had breathed an alien air, walked an alien road; until his brain had been chosen to undertake the incredible enterprise of crossing the galactic rift.

In my fashion have I loved you,
he cried to Damia as he felt her reach the fuel mass.
But you never loved me,
he added with intense surprise as her mind, vulnerable in the instant of that massive thrust, was open to him.
And he shall not have you either!

With his last strength, Sodan sent out one final jealous mental blast just as the ship exploded.

Frantically, even as she felt herself blacking out from the tremendous drain on her resources, Damia tried to deflect that blow.

As a kingpin flattens a row of its fellows, so Sodan's blast, striking through the Larak-focus, caused a wave of mental agony to roll backward to Auriga where Station personnel grabbed at their skulls in anguish, to Earth and Callisto where T-ratings cringed in pain, and on to Deneb and even Altair. Horrified crews found Jeffrey Raven and the Rowan unconscious in their Tower couches. Jeran, head aching, was hastily summoned, for FT & T command devolved to him in the emergency. Jeran took time out to assure himself that with sufficient rest his parents would recover, then he informed the Federated World Government of the event. He was requested to proceed with the defensive fleet to Auriga.

Isthia appeared at Earth Headquarters at his urgent bidding and, with her help, he was able to extract gently from Jeff's taxed mind the position of the three personal shells.

As they approached the orbit, they could “hear” nothing.

It is possible,
Isthia said hopefully as they could find no discernible aura,
that all three have gone into very deep shock. The power in Damia's final thrust!

Damia cannot be dead,
Jeran tried to convince himself.
Sodan may have been powerful, but is there a T-rating in the galaxy who didn't feel her hit him? We cannot lose her!
He had already resigned himself to other losses.

“Ah!” Isthia gave a sharp gasp.
I have them
.

Jeran reached with her, signaling the flagship's T-3 to assist.

“She's alive,” he cried in relief.
I thought I felt them all die.

“Afra lives, too, but he's very faint. Larak . . .” and Isthia's voice faded.
Why did the focus have to snap through him?

They brought Afra's capsule in first, and Jeran, who was at the head as the shell was opened, pressed fearful hands against the man's temples. Afra's body was drawn up in the fetal position of complete withdrawal.

“He's badly hurt, Isthia. God, will we save him?
Should
we, if he'll be psionically numb for the rest of his life?”

Isthia moved his hands aside, and applied her own, her touch naturally more delicate than Jeran's.

“I can't tell more than that he wants to die. The spark of life is very faint.” She gave rapid mental orders to the medics standing by so that, within seconds, Afra's body was receiving emergency injections to stimulate the failing life signs.

Divorce your emotions Jeran,
Isthia told him sharply.
Help me reach him. He wants to die. We must pull him back.

Jeran shook himself and, holding his breath, placed his hands above Isthia's on Afra's head.

Together they probed, ignoring the mental anguish they experienced at having to touch so torn a mind. Uppermost was the thought that both Larak and Afra had shared: Sodan striking at them and Damia, exhausted, trying to block it.

He'll kill her, he'll kill her,
was the repeated cry of terror, a curious melding of both Larak and Afra, swirling in the pain of Afra's mind.
No, Damia. Don't try. I waited too long. No, Damia
Then the enigmatic sequence was repeated.

Damia lives, Damia lives,
Jeran and Isthia told him.

Damia lives, Damia lives, Damia lives
, whispered the essence of Afra.

Isthia caught Jeran's eyes with surprised confusion. Hopeful now, they reinforced the will to live.

Afra, Damia lives. She rests. She waits for you,
Isthia murmured soothingly.

Sleep, Afra, rest. Damia lives,
Jeran urged.

Damia lives? Damia lives!

With a shudder, Afra's body untwisted from the fetal curl. For one terrifying moment, he was still. Gasping, Isthia dipped way down into the suddenly tranquil mind only to be reassured that Afra had merely slipped into deep sleep.

“He's very badly hurt, Jeran,” Isthia admitted sadly as they watched the medics wheel Afra away to a tightly shielded room.

They opened Damia's capsule together. She lay on her side, looking very young, but there were marks that showed the effects of that meeting of minds. She had bitten through her underlip and a trickle of blood ran in a scarlet line across her cheek. Her fingernails had cut into her palms when she had clenched her fists and her face was streaked with tears.

With infinite compassion, Isthia turned the girl onto her back and laid both her hands lightly on Damia's temples.

I can't reach them. I can't get there in time. I hurt. I've got to try. I hurt. Oh, will 1 lose them both?
Isthia could hear the words faintly, deep in the tired mind.

With a sigh of relief, Isthia straightened.

Is she badly burned?
Jeran asked impatiently, having waited outside Isthia's contact but aware it had been made.

Not burned but deeply hurt on several levels. Damia's been cut down to size,
Isthia remarked ruefully,
the terrible way only the very bright and confident are. She'll never forget that she underestimated Sodan's potential because she became infatuated with him.

For all of that, if she hadn't touched him first, where would we be with such a menace zeroing from space?

Isthia waved that aside as of incidental importance.

That won't matter to Damia, Jeran. Her initial lapse of judgment caused Larak's death and has seriously injured Afra.

Merciful God, Isthia, once the attack on Sodan began, nothing could have saved Larak, no matter where he was in the focus-mind. Death is far kinder than being burned out. She's not to blame.

Isthia shook her head sadly.
No, she isn't to blame and I hope it never occurs to her that, in the crisis, instinct overrode reason and it was Afra she struggled to save.

Afra? What in hell?
asked Jeran before he followed Isthia's thought to its source.
So that's why Sodan struck to kill. He was after Afra.

He stepped back as Isthia signaled to the medics to administer deep-sleep drugs and intravenous nourishment to Damia.