For Love of Mother-Not - Alan Dean Foster [74]
“But what if he does show up prior to our returning the old woman to Drallar?”
“Don’t worry,” Haithness said. “I have the standard story prepared, and our personnel here have been well coached in the pertinent details.”
“You think he’d accept that tale?” Nyassa-lee asked. “That hoary old business of us being an altruistic society of physicians dedicated to helping the old and enfeebled against the indifference of government medical facilities?”
“It’s true that we’ve utilized the story in various guises before, but it will be new to the subject,” Haithness reminded her colleague. “Besides, as Brora says, he barely qualifies as an adult, and his background does not suggest sophistication. I think he’ll believe us, especially when we restore his mother to him. That should be enough to satisfy him. The operation will, of course, be rendered cosmetically undetectable.”
“I do better work on a full night’s sleep.” Brora abruptly pushed back from the table. “Especially prior to a hard day’s work.”
They all rose and started toward their quarters, Brora contemplating the operation near at hand, Haithness the chances for success, and only Nyassa-lee the last look in Mother Mastiff’s eyes.
Chapter Twelve
They had to be close to their destination because their quarry had been motionless for more than an hour. That’s when the pain hit Flinx; sharp, hot, and unexpected as always. He winced and shut his eyes tight while Pip stirred nervously on its master’s shoulder.
Alarmed, Lauren turned hurriedly to her young companion. “What is it? What’s wrong, Flinx?”
“Close. We’re very close.”
“I can tell that by looking at the tracker,” she said.
“It’s her, it’s Mother Mastiff.”
“She’s hurt?” Already Lauren was dropping the skimmer into the woods. The minidrag writhed on Flinx’s shoulder, hunting for an unseen enemy.
“She’s—she’s not hurting,” Flinx mumbled. “She’s—there’s worry in her, and fear. Someone’s planning to do something terrible to her. She fears for me, too, I think. But I can’t understand—I don’t know what or wh—”
He blinked. Pip ceased his convulsions. “It’s gone. Damn it, it’s gone.” He kicked at the console in frustration. “Gone and I can’t make it come back.”
“I thought—”
He interrupted her; his expression was one of resignation. “I have no control over the Talent. No control at all. These feelings hit me when I least expect them, and never, it seems, when I want them to. Sometimes I can’t even locate the source. But this time it was Mother Mastiff. I’m sure of it.”
“How can you tell that?” Lauren banked the skimmer to port dodging a massive emergent.
“Because I know how her mind feels.”
Lauren threw him an uncertain look, then decided there was no point in trying to comprehend something beyond her ken.
The skimmer slowed to a crawl and quickly settled down among the concealing trees on a comparatively dry knoll. After cutting the power, Lauren moved to the rear of the cabin and began assembling packs and equipment. The night was deep around them, and the sounds of nocturnal forest dwellers began to seep into the skimmer.
“We have to hurry,” Flinx said anxiously. He was already unsnapping the door latches. “They’re going to hurt her soon!”
“Hold it!” Lauren said sharply. “You don’t know what’s going to happen to her. More important, you don’t know when.”
“Soon!” he insisted. The door popped open and slid back into the transparent outer wall. He stared out into the forest in the direction he knew they must take even though he hadn’t checked their location on the tracking screen.
“I promise that we’ll get to her as fast as is feasible,” Lauren assured him as she slipped the sling of the dart rifle over her shoulder, “but we won’t do her or ourselves any good at all if we go charging blindly in on those people, whoever they are. Remember, they carried paralysis