For the first time Blade noticed that Cheeky was so gaunt his ribs were showing. Some of his feathers had been singed off, and bare skin showed where others had been deliberately plucked out. He'd been treated as an experimental animal, and not too well-treated at that! If so, then it seemed to Blade that the Doimari Seekers were getting just about what they deserved.
The guards became more nervous as the uproar from the laboratory grew. They looked about ready to jump Blade, when suddenly the door flew open. A man in a smoke-grimed laboratory coat ran out, followed by a young woman. The man took one look at Cheeky on Blade's shoulder, then cursed.
«What are you doing with that little monster?» he snarled. «Give him back or-«
Blade showed the scientist the muzzle of his pistol. «First, you tell me where you found him and what you've been-«
«Who are you to ask me?» the scientist blustered, ignoring the pistol.
«Erhon, don't be foolish,» said the woman. «Blue Boy might have been that man's pet. He could tell-«
The scientist ignored his assistant just as thoroughly as he had ignored the pistol, and he plunged a hand into his pocket. Blade couldn't wait to find what might be in there. He put a bullet into the scientist's chest, then another as the man seemed slow to go down. The second shot slammed him up against the railing. He slid down into a sitting position as his coat turned red. A small laser fell out of his pocket as he rolled over on his side.
Blade picked up a second pistol, since there was no way to reload the one he had. The young woman was staring wildly at everything without focusing on anything.
«I'm sorry I had to shoot him,» said Blade quietly. «But he shouldn't have tried to draw on me. Now, will you calm down and go tell whoever's in charge here that I want to talk to him? Blue Boy was mine. I lost him a long time ago, and thought I'd never find him again. If you'll let both of us go free, you may learn something useful.» The girl hesitated, her mouth quivering. «Go on,» said Blade sharply. «You can have hysterics later!»
The girl ran back into the laboratory complex without closing the door behind her. Blade settled down to wait. He hoped she would get word to somebody sensible before somebody stupid decided to snipe Blade with a laser rifle. He shifted so that he could cover the guards and look around at the same time, but knew that precaution wouldn't help much. A laser rifle or even a gunpowder one would far outrange his pistols.
Instead of a laser's whipcrack, the next thing Blade heard was the whine of a lifter's propellers. Then a shadow passed overhead, and a disembodied voice boomed over the terrace.
«Commander Voros! You asked for whoever's in charge, I am he. Put down your pistols; and I give you my word of honor as a Seeker that no harm will come to you.»
«Tell those guards to move to the end of the terrace first,» shouted Blade. «I don't trust them.» He didn't trust the voice coming from the lifters either, but there was nothing he could do about that. And Blue Boy doesn't get hurt, either.» Cheeky yeeeped in agreement.
«All right. Move, you idiots!»
The guards jumped at the voice as if Blade had finally shot them. Then they scurried to the far end of the terrace, as the small lifter swept in. A laser jutted from its nose, and a pilot and a passenger sat in the cockpit. Ten feet above the terrace the passenger opened the door, and five feet up he jumped out without waiting for the machine to land.
He came down on his feet with catlike grace, not even going to his knees. He'd called himself a Seeker but to Blade he looked more like a rather sinister sort of soldier. He wore a black coverall, black boots, and a close-fitting black helmet. The only color on him anywhere was the dark red plastic butt of a heavy laser pistol in a black leather shoulder holster. His hair and eyes were also black.
He stepped up to Blade. He was about the same height but slimmer. «I am Detcharn, First Seeker and Du-Shro of Doimar.» That meant he was not only chief of scientific research but something like chief of staff of the armed forces. A man in charge indeed, thought Blade.
«I am honored,» he said.
«That remains to be seen,» replied Detcharn. «Tell me your story.»
Blade did so, emphasizing the bond between him and Cheeky/Blue Boy and how all efforts to learn anything about the feather-monkey would now be useless without his cooperation. He did not try to find out how Cheeky had wound up in Doimar. He badly wanted to know, but there would be better times to ask. . if he lived long enough!
When Blade was finished, Detcharn raised his bushy black eyebrows. «What makes you think we want to learn anything about this little beast worth letting you go free?»
«Don't try bluffing me, Detcharn. You know he's a telepath. Otherwise why would you have spent all this time and effort studying him?» Blade remembered how the scientist's assistant had started to say that Blade could tell them something. What it was exactly they needed to know was unclear, but Blade decided against quoting the girl. She would be in enough trouble without her slip being passed on to Detcharn, who did not look like a forgiving man.
«Indeed, you may be right. To be sure, we might need a telepath to examine you.»
Blade didn't hesitate. «Then get one. I don't have anywhere to go for a while, and neither do you.»
«It's hardly tactful to hold me hostage,» said Detcharn. Then he smiled, which gave him a sort of wolfish charm. «But in your position I wouldn't be tactful either. Very well.» He spoke briefly into a small radio on his wrist, and the lifter darted away.
Again Blade settled down to wait. It was a gamble, that a Doimari telepath could prove the link between him and Cheeky without revealing his identity. But he hardly had anything to lose. The alternative was tamely accepting certain and probably unpleasant death; this way he could at least hope to take one of Doimar's most valuable leaders with him.
The telepath couldn't have been far away. The lifter was back in less than twenty minutes, although they were a long twenty minutes for Blade. The guards were too far away to be dangerous, even if they'd wanted to defy their leader. Detcharn himself was another matter. From the way he moved, Blade knew he was in perfect condition and might be an unarmed-combat expert.
This time the lifter landed on the terrace. The new passenger was a slim brown-haired woman, with enormous gray eyes in a pale face, dressed in a long flowing blue gown. There was something virginal and even slightly otherworldly about her.
«Read him,» ordered Detcharn. The lifter took off, and the blast from its propeller made the woman's hair fly out behind her like a flag. She patted it into position, came up to Blade, put one hand on his chest and another on his forehead, and screwed her own face up into a look of total concentration.
Blade' had just time to form a mental picture of himself and Cheeky in Kaldak and hold it. He didn't have time to make a convincing picture of him and the feather-monkey doing anything. It was a static image, and he was more than slightly worried that the telepathic woman would be able to detect the image for what it was-an effort to deceive her and block her from learning the truth.
Blade suppressed the worry vigorously. Any unusual emotion might give the woman a clue. Cheeky was at least that sensitive to Blade's emotions; why shouldn't a human telepath be even more so?
At least he wouldn't have to warn Cheeky not to cooperate with anyone in Doimar. After the treatment he'd received and the vengeance he'd taken, Cheeky would let himself be plucked naked rather than help the Doimari or betray the friend he'd found again after so long.
The mental pulses Blade felt were so faint and fumbling that at times he wasn't sure if they were there at all. They lasted for quite a while, though, and he saw sweat on the woman's forehead. He hoped she wouldn't collapse. Detcharn would simply bring in another telepath, who might be more powerful or at least forewarned. He also might try other, more physical methods of interrogation.