BABYLON 5: THE VIRTUAL SIXTH SEASON
"THE PRICE OF FREEDOM"
Episode 5
A LIGHT BETWEEN WORLDS
It had been too long since he'd taken the time to come up here and appreciate the view; but the lure, Bester decided, had been impossible to resist today, as the dawn gloaming grew over what had been, for many years now, the heart of the Earth Alliance. The spring storms in Europe had been unusually strong this year, stronger than any time in recent memory; and for days on end, Earthdome and its surroundings had suffered through rainy day after rainy day, with the occasional blast of snow thrown in, for variety.
Bester's mouth tightened, then, as a memory from his youth emerged out of the shadows; of a cold, rainy spring like this one, and Mikhail Alexov, a P12 from Teeptown's northeast quad, standing as if a statue in the rain, a victim of his own incalcuable pride.
Bester sighed. Almost thirty years, Alexov had been dead, now; dead because of a mistake he hadn't seen coming...the mistake of knowing too much, of having too much pride in his capabilities, of not learning the lessons that counted. So many other Corps officers had also faced the same fate since then, and all for what? So much waste, there had been -- before what had come to be called the Shadow War...and after.
But that was then, and today, today had been an excuse to come up here to the Outlook -- that high balcony on the top level of the Corps complex, to look out upon the first fine spring day, in a very long time. The sky had taken on that opalescent hue and clarity seen only once or twice a year, and the more distant, higher mountains in the Alps were silvery with new snow. A promising day...one full of new possibilities, as the Eastern horizon burned with the coming of the Sun, and the alpenglow finally touched the balcony upon which he stood.
The light slowly reached out across Lake Geneva, as he watched; and Bester turned then, almost instinctively, in a direction burned into him by life experience; a vector pointing squarely towards the facility that most members of the Corps knew only as 'Teeptown'. Even now, generations after its founding, Teeptown continued the task of educating his kind; the instructors, so like those who had instructed him in turn, long ago, busily molding the minds of another generation of telepaths, ripe for his guidance.
And among those telepaths, even though she didn't know it yet, was one he had been searching for, for some time now. One who stood a real possibility of continuing the work he had begun. Of keeping his telepaths safe.
{{Mr. Bester.}} Bester smiled, and turned away from the view, to see the one he had come to Earthdome to meet emerge out onto the Outlook. And while the other would like to believe he had summoned Bester to Earthdome, that was not entirely true, any longer. Had not been entirely true for more years then Bester cared to remember. "I thought I'd find you up here, Al; it's a fine morning, isn't it?"
"'Fine' can certainly be considered an understatement today, Director." He replied, as the burnished light touching the Outlook grew stronger. "After all that rain we've had to put up with over the past four months...these are the sort of days that make the wait, oh, you could almost say, 'worthwhile'!"
A pleasant nod. "And speaking of worthwhile waits, Mr. Bester...if you'll join me below, I believe that breakfast is now being served."
****************
Northeast of Earthdome
08:30 EST
Halfway around the lake, the man without a name also gazed out a window. He looked south across a blue shimmer of water dotted with commuter ferries and a few early pleasure-seekers. Elegantly modest suburbs dotted the rising hills -- among them the sprawling Psi Corps enclave known for the last hundred years or so as "Teeptown". An ongoing concern, perhaps, but not an immediate one.
To the southwest, down the long arm of the lake, the city rose clean and sparkling in the sunlight, the great dome at its heart set like a jewel amid the diamond glints of smaller buildings. At his feet, the waking streets of Lausanne were thronged with workers, many heading for the transport tubes that would whisk them off to toil in the bureaucratic maze that was Earthdome. Normally, he would be among them -- for part of the way, at least. This morning, however, the man without a name had a slightly different agenda.
They had given him a name, of course, the ones who had brought him here. Now that they were gone, he still answered to it, for convenience -- but it was not his. In his previous...life, for many years he had answered only to a cold designation, until the cold had seeped into his blood and bone, heart and mind. When the last of those who called him by his true name had been killed -- when those calm, earth-brown eyes had been closed forever by an assassin's bullet meant for him -- his name, and what remained of his soul, had died with her.
"What do you want?" the dark, sinister man had asked. And, taking him for no more than another in the endless army of dark, sinister men -- and not caring anymore -- he had answered honestly. But that was long ago. Longer than any man should be able to remember. He shook himself out of his unwonted reverie and turned from the wide window.
He rinsed out the white coffee-cup and set it on the ice-blue countertop. The entire apartment was done in white, ice-blue, and stainless steel -- perhaps to match its owner. The man's sleek-tailored charcoal-grey suit provided the only visible shadow. He paused to take a final look around the high, sunlit space, eyes narrowing as his gaze focused briefly on the dome. After a moment, he turned and left.
****************
Psi Corps Facility "Teeptown"
Major Academy, Alpha Dormitory
08:35 EST
Sheynell Keynes looked out of the mirror at her true self, and was pleased with what she saw, this day of all days, the day she had been waiting for almost her entire life. The night before had been the last night of her youth, the night she had stood with the rest, and listened to the Director give his speech at their graduation parade; the same speech he probably gave to all the telepaths within the Corps that reached that point. And how fair was this, she thought, even though she understood why it had come to pass, how their history had progressed...that a mundane should still be the one to run the Corps, and all its telepaths?
Very slowly, she closed the clasp on her brand new, midnight black MetaPol uniform, and smiled, as she pulled her shoulder-length blonde hair back into a manageable braid. The answer to that question was not hers to find, for the time being...today, she sought other answers. Would today mark the start of a new life, for her? She hoped so, since a great deal of her life, to date, had been spent fighting the system.
To be specific, life hadn't been fair from the moment her British-born, Martian-immigrant parents had abandoned her into the care of the Corps at age 9. She could still remember that day, and their fear, all too easily...even now. She had lost a family, that day, and gained another one...
And now, the Corps was all the family she had; but none of them had become her friends, oh no. The other 'laters' in her generation hadn't clicked with her because, well, they'd been frightened of her (and the fully controllable, upper-end P12 abilities she'd possessed by her eleventh birthday) and of what she could do to them...while those born with the gift, of course, had eyed her distrustfully from early on, both because of her swift rise to power...but also because she had chosen to idolize a man that most felt couldn't be trusted...only obeyed, and feared.
The senior MetaPol officer, and fellow P12, Alfred Bester. So like herself, in so many ways, he had been at her age...an outsider, not understood by anyone. And from the records of his career that she had studied, it also seemed clear that the few 'friends' Mr. Bester had acquired had mostly been 'manufactured' for him by superiors worried about the choices he had made early on in his career.
So many echoes there were, between them; it was almost frightening...and then she closed her eyes for a moment, feeling a familiar presence draw near; a friend, some would say...but not her, not any longer. She knew now, the truth behind this, as well...Mr. Bester's records had helped to teach her that truth. Her only 'friend', from now on, was the Corps itself; that was, all things considered, the way it had been from the very beginning.
The door opened, and an auburn headed girl entered the room; a touch younger and shorter then she, and smiling a wide smile...for her benefit, she supposed. Viyana Metois, her roommate of five years standing.
"It looks good on you, Sheynell..." Viyana began, appraising Sheynell's new uniform. "Yes; very sharp, indeed!"
"Why are you here, Viyana?" she interrupted. "Haven't the morning classes already begun?"
A regretful nod. "Yes. But I convinced Mr. Merak that saying goodbye to you was more important than..."
"In that, you would be wrong!" she sharply replied. "Goodbyes are not as important as focusing on your training is! If you'd been as dedicated to your studies as I, you would now be in *my* position, on the verge of leaving this place to meet your own intern supervisor, wouldn't you? And to that end, I'm afraid I no longer have the time to continue this conversation; I must go, Viyana..."
But even as she stepped towards the door, her roommate, inevitably focusing on the task that had been given her by their Instructors, had one more thing to say. "Not even a final match, to part by, Sheynell?" the other entreated. "For old times sake?"
Sheynell shook her head irritably, and half turned, to fix the French-born girl with a bitter smile. "And what would be the point of that?... I'm beyond all that by now, as well you know! With my Academy training complete, it's finally time for me to move on to what I've wanted ever since I started with the Corps, more than nine years ago!"
Viyana's smile faded. "To be a MetaPol officer...to echo your idol, Alfred Bester, to follow his path? Sheynell...this obsession of yours may destroy you, if you continue along such lines!"
"Or set me free." was her biting reply. "They tried to hold him back, too...and look where it got them. Goodbye, Viyana; I do not believe we will see one another again, any time soon."
And with that said, she stepped out of the room, and didn't look back.
****************
Psi Corps Earthdome Complex
09:10 EST
"Now that we've eaten, Al..." Deputy Director (MetaPol) Exeter North began, his expression disgruntled, "It's finally time for us to discuss the matter for which I called you here, today; a matter that, all things considered, should have been dealt with before it became the problem it presently is. I will assume that you've heard about the recent assignment of one of our own to Babylon 5?"
On the other side of the table, Bester nodded, smiling grimly. "Ah yes...Mr. Colin Ferris; from Toronto Megapolis, I believe?" North nodded. ">From time to time, over the past several months, the reports from Mr. Ferris's office on Babylon 5 have managed to cross my desk, shall we say. Do you believe we have a problem brewing there?"
"A 'problem' would be the understatement of the century, the way things have been going, thus far. To start with, there was that whole thing with the rogue, Paul Frost, back in January...Ferris handled that one very poorly, all things considered. Then, there are his reports; they actually suggest that things on Babylon 5 are being run 'excellently', of all things! From your past experiences there, Al, I believe we can agree that all by itself, that suggests a problem in the making..."
"You'll get no arguments from me on that score." Bester noted. "And more recently of course, and far more of a concern, in my opinion, was Mr. Ferris's backing of Captain Lochley's 'solution' for the Lucy Thoreson problem. That so valuable a resource as that was allowed, by one of our own, to escape from the Corps, must be answered for!"
"Absolutely right. The powers that be, myself included, have decided to overrule our Canadian colleagues in handling this 'problem'. An even-handed examination of Mr. Ferris and his 'outpost' on Babylon 5 must be conducted...and while I'm sure you don't want to hear this, Al, you have more experience with dealing with the mundanes out there than just about any other officer presently under my command..."
"And because that's so..." Bester conceded, "You want me to go to Babylon 5, and handle this situation?"
"I do, yes."
"Of course. But there are, I'm afraid, a few conditions this time around."
"Conditions?" a surprised North replied.
"Conditions. If I'm to be the one to deal with Ferris, I must deal with him my way, and no other, Director. You do understand what this means, of course?"
North sighed, and then nodded. "Yes...I do. And...?"
"And one other, that you should be made aware of." Bester continued. "In recent months, I've decided that's it's been too long since I've taken an active hand in supervising one of our own through the final stages of training. Along such lines, within the past day or so, an opportunity has arisen that I could not in all honesty afford to ignore. And with this mission to Babylon 5 about to commence..."
"You wish to take this promising young intern to the station with you?" North inquired. "Why?"
"Watch and learn." Bester replied, before turning aside, as he sensed the approach of the one to whom he was referring, entirely on time, of course. He rose to his feet, calling a smile into being, as the door to the Director's office opened, and a young, pale, and serious woman in Corps black entered the room.
"Director North! I have the honour to introduce to you the top graduate from the Major Academy, Spring 2263...
"Ms. Sheynell Keynes."
Bester watched in amusement, then, as the new arrival stopped dead in her tracks, her normally unflappable cool momentarily shattered, as she saw who it was that was standing before her. "Mr...Bester?"
"Indeed, Ms. Keynes," he replied, raising one eyebrow. "Unless, of course, someone's decided to impersonate me?"
"Hardly possible, sir!" the younger telepath replied, her composure returned...though with a hint of pleased smile thrown in. "And since I was told to report to the Deputy Director's office to meet my new intern supervisor, may I assume that you are that supervisor?"
"Assuming anything has always, in my opinion, been a dangerous game to play, Ms. Keynes...but that is correct. For some time now, I've been observing your progression through the Major Academy with some interest, and when the time drew near for you to advance to your intern duties within the Corps, I decided that I should be the one to step forward and help you towards your goal in life...becoming what I am, and what I represent.
And what will make things easier, of course, is that you've decided, in recent years, to follow my career...almost, shall we say, to idolize me? Not that this doesn't please me, of course...but I wonder, quite honestly, why you would choose to do such a thing, at the same time?"
At that, Bester watched the faint smile on Ms. Keynes's face blossom into a full-fledged one. "I feel no shame in admitting that I've tried to echo you, sir...your dedication to the Corps is well known, and since my beginnings as a telepath, I've tried to follow that in all the things I've done. And now that you've chosen to mentor me...you honour me as well, Mr. Bester! I can think of no one else I would rather work beside...no one else who can teach me what I need to know...to, as you would say, serve the Corps, to the best of my ability."
"Ah...that does make sense, I suppose. But speaking of teachers, were you not working with Dr. Paul Frost at one point, Miss Keynes?" Bester paused then, waiting to see what response he would get to this challenge. There was certainly time for a first test, and why not here? "Something of an unofficial mentor to you, was he not?"
The younger telepath's face tightened, the smile now gone. "Mr. Bester; I would appreciate it very much if you would not mention that name in my presence...ever again."
At that, North's eyebrows shot up...while Bester stared at her levelly for a moment. Then, he allowed a slow smile to spread over his features. "Well done, Miss Keynes! You've mastered the first technique of our vocation." He raised his permanently-clenched left hand in a fist. "Be intimidated by no one...
"Not even me."
His new protege nodded in understanding, her composure and calm once again returned. "I understand your lesson, sir...and thank you for it. Now, if it isn't too much trouble, may I learn the real reason I've been summoned to this place? That you were discussing a Corps-related 'problem' with the Director before I arrived, sir, is a given...and as such, will our first mission together consist of dealing with that problem?"
Bester drew a deep breath, and laughed, inside...her forging into a MetaPol officer was almost complete! But there was required a final tempering, and it could not be done here....it never could. He dreaded these moments. Some, like Lauren Ashley, passed with flying colours; others, like Byron, seemed to pass, but held a fatal flaw that would later crack and break them.
Still, it needed to be done. Sheynell Keynes would never rise to the strength he needed of her without a true test; and such tests always held the real possibility of failure.
"Miss Keynes..." he replied, none of this showing in his face or through his blocks, as he gestured her to follow him out of the Director's office. "A fair assessment, and in this case, a correct one. How would you like to come with me to Babylon 5?"
****************
Earthdome Medical Complex
09:25 EST
On the top floor of the massive hospital complex to the northwest of Earthdome proper, a comm-console bleeped.
"Dr. Franklin? There's a Mr. Molyneux here to see you..."
***************** ACT ONE *****************
Earthdome Medical Complex
Geneva, Earth
09:30 EST, 03/08/2263
"Bureau 13? I'm afraid I haven't heard of that one." Dr. Stephen Franklin briefly considered asking what, exactly, Bureau 13 was in charge of, but decided not to bother. Either the man would tell him, along with whatever it was he wanted to talk to the head of Earthgov's Xenobiological Research Department about, or, if asked, he would lie.
Residual paranoia, Stephen acknowledged ruefully -- at the moment he didn't even have reason to care what this guy was into. Something about his looks just made the doctor uneasy. Perhaps it was the way the man steepled his fingers in front of him, looking over them with distant yet unfailingly polite consideration. "It's rather an unlucky number though --" Stephen continued, going for the light approach. "-- I suppose you hear that all the time."
"Yes," the white-haired man replied, with a thin, one-sided smile, "I do."
"So," Dr. Franklin settled behind his desk, framing this Mr. Molyneux against the sunlight streaming in through wide windows in the far wall. After five years on a space station, Stephen loved being able to look up from his desk and out into the sky, but at the moment all he could see was a bright-limned shadow with cold, glittering eyes. A bit unsettling for 9:30 AM on a Tuesday morning. "What can I do for you?" he asked.
"A great deal, doctor," said Molyneux, leaning forward slightly. "And, as it happens, there's a great deal I can do for you."
"Sounds like a great deal," Stephen commented with a grin. "But what exactly are we talking about? No offense, but I do have a lot of work to do, and..."
"Research, of course, I understand, doctor," the other man cut in. "What is it you're working on now, genetic drift in isolated protospoo populations?"
"Among other things," the doctor admitted warily. Molyneux smiled again.
"It's quite fascinating, actually," Franklin protested, making the best of it. "The pattern of occurrence of the rare 'moaning' mutation has never been charted, partially due, I suppose, to the incredible....well, never mind. The point is, that's only one of the ongoing projects that I need to check in on, on a daily basis, so if you don't mind..."
"Before you took this position, I understand that you were involved with an Interstellar Alliance project to gather medical information on diseases of the known galactic species -- a sort of cross-reference, if I'm not mistaken."
"That's correct. In fact, I'm still working on that, as an adjunct to my other duties here."
"I see. And I presume Earthgov has been supportive of this...merger of interests?"
"Yes, of course. They've assured me that I'll have resources, a staff..."
"Of course. And -- just out of curiosity -- have any of these resources actually materialized?"
"Well," Franklin hesitated. "There've been some delays, but frankly, dealing with the government you learn to expect that..."
"Expect what, Doctor Franklin, precisely?" the man's gaze sharpened, his head tilted like that of a curious bird -- a hawk, perhaps, sighting prey. Stephen suddenly wondered if this Bureau 13 were some sort of internal policing agency, like 'EYES' -- but surely that kind of thing had gone out with Clark...
"Has it occurred to you, doctor," Molyneux went on, shattering Franklin's hypothesis almost before he had a chance to formulate it, "that these 'delays' might be symptomatic of something more than the usual bureaucratic mismanagement? That there could be certain factions within Earthgov that might not wholeheartedly support research into the similarities among species, and the possibilities for taking advantage of those similarities? Your work with the pregnancy of the ISA president's wife, for example..."
"My treatment of Entil'zha Delenn," Stephen cut in, going over the edge into full-scale annoyance with this man, "was purely a matter of a physician treating a patient, not some sort of...political statement! If anything," he went on recklessly, "my fear has been that those 'certain factions' of yours might encourage my work and try to use the results for biological weapons research -- and I make no secret of the fact that I will NOT be a part of or condone any such effort. Now if you'll excuse me..."
The white-haired man simply settled back in his chair, that lopsided predatory smile widening. "And I suppose if I were to offer you the backing of my organization, you would immediately suspect that I had some such nefarious scheme in mind."
That gave Stephen pause, since it was exactly what he would have thought. What the hell was going on here? He'd anticipated that the overall level of political crap he had to endure would increase drastically with this job, but he hadn't expected it at this level. Perhaps he had been naive. He settled back into his own comfortable chair, backed by dark wood panelling and an abundance of framed certificates.
"Do you?" he asked.
The fingers re-steepled. "Quite the contrary, doctor. My organization is deeply committed to working with the other species as peers. And we are, in fact, very interested in supporting your research."
"In return for...?"
Molyneux shrugged. "Access to your results. The privilege of.... suggesting lines of inquiry. No coercion, I assure you. Any support we provide will be on a strictly 'no-strings' basis. Just an informal exchange of ideas, if you will."
More intrigued than he was willing to admit, Stephen fell back on the question he had wanted to ask at first -- "What does your organization do, exactly?"
The other man straightened a bit, shifting into lecture mode. "Bureau 13 was chartered soon after the formation of Earthgov, originally using personnel and other resources 'inherited' from similar organizations in the participating nations -- such as a wing of the United States' Federal Bureau of Investigation that had been looking into extraterrestrial and paranormal activities since the end of the twentieth century.
"Our mission," he went on, forbearing to list any other organizations that might have contributed to the ancestry of his current project, "has always been to expect the unexpected, to guard and prepare Earth for eventualities that might seem farfetched -- or even unimaginable -- to the general public.
"To use an example from your area, doctor, what if some virulent disease -- natural or engineered, it makes no difference -- were to strike one of our worlds -- even Earth? What sort of defenses would we need to handle such an eventuality?"
"That scenario is highly unlikely," Franklin pointed out. "Between genetic incompatibility and the tremendous level of virulence and/or saturation it would take to overwhelm the procedures we have in place to contain our own epidemics..."
"But it is possible, doctor, and it's the business of our organization to be prepared for such possibilities. As a result," he went on, "our own methods have also become somewhat...heterodox. Almost hybrid, one might say." the smile widened to a feral, close-lipped grin.
Whatever reaction he was looking for, though, Stephen made sure he didn't get it. He watched Molyneux impassively until the grin slipped -- just a fraction. Then he cleared his throat, leaning forward and regathering his hardcopy files and datapad.
"This is all very interesting, Mr. Molyneux, and I'll be sure to give it some thought. Why don't you leave your comm number with my receptionist and I'll get back to you? Right now I'm afraid I'm overdue for some of my rounds."
Though obviously taken aback, Molyneux recovered smoothly, preceding the doctor out of the office. Frankin shook his hand politely and left him at the receptionist's desk, heading down the wide, window-walled corridor with a purposeful stride.
The man without a name looked after the doctor thoughtfully. "Excuse me," he said to the receptionist. "Dr. Franklin mentioned 'rounds' -- does that mean he still sees private patients?"
"Oh, yes -- not many, of course, but several of the alien representatives here in Geneva have asked to see Dr. Franklin, because of his reputation on Babylon 5. I believe he has a Gaim prequeen on his current patient list, not to mention the Narn ambassador's pouchlings and the entire delegation from Fzhgl'k."
"I see," the white-haired man mused. He smiled suddenly at the young Indian woman in her bright orange sari and caste mark. "Thank you so much for your time."
He strolled off down the corridor, a wisp of shadow and ice drifting through the sunlight.
****************
Psi Corps 'Mothership' Number 6
Enroute to Babylon 5
08:17 EST, 03/09/2263
On a shadowy ship, a pale-faced figure in black looked out on the vista of hyperspace, a few artfully-styled tendrils of hair trailing down behind her calculating gaze...the only other setting piece, the gold-and-silver badge of the Corps, below her left collarline. This was her first trip through this red and hellish place; the medium that allowed sentient life to skip beneath the endless light years of realspace...and now, the stories that Viyana had told her about hyperspace were finally beginning to make some sense.
Anyone or anything could hide, out here! And had, in the recent past, if various reports were to be believed. Whole fleets, with hundreds or even thousands of ships, could pass nearly undetected; and the system of galactic beacon-guides between the jumpgates were just that...guides. Beyond the lines drawn from beacon to beacon, one could still find the unknown.
Including, of course, the ship she was presently on. As she had learnt from her new mentor the day before, 'Number 6' and all of its companion vessels had been designed to remain in hyperspace almost continously, only emerging every six months or so to take on supplies and conduct needed repairs. And as for their purpose? Their purpose, as she had guessed in her initial discussions with Mr. Bester, was to carry officers such as herself from system to system in hyperspace, across the distances that the smaller Corps transports could not hope to cross, safely.
Sheynell smiled grimly. At least, that was the story that was being circulated for the time being.
Behind her, the door opened. {{Ah; Miss Keynes...}} the by now familiar 'pathed sending came to her. "There you are."
She raised one eyebrow. "You slept in, Mr. Bester."
"But why not?" came the other telepath's upbeat reply. "As long as we're aboard this vessel, we're in one of the safest places the Corps can provide for us; surrounded by our brother and sister telepaths, and threatened by no one...an ideal place to find the rest we certainly won't, when we reach the end of this journey..."
"At Babylon 5." she noted with near-revulsion. "A melting pot for mundanes from a hundred species...it's a dangerous place for our kind, as the intelligence gathered by various members of the Corps -- yourself included -- has indicated over the past six years."
"And yet, once again, the Corps requires that I travel to that place once called 'mankind's last, best hope for peace...'." the older officer mused. But then, Mr. Bester's tone changed from companionable to steely, and his gaze hardened. "But while that may be so, if you would, Miss Keynes... please explain to me the reasoning behind our upcoming visit."
She straightened, and turned to face him. "Of course, sir; our colleagues in Toronto sent Mr. Colin Ferris to Babylon 5 as a permanent, and I will add, apparently 'middle-of-the-road' liason between the Corps and Babylon 5's mundane command staff. Our purpose in travelling there is to investigate Mr. Ferris's apparent failures, and also his lack of focus when it comes to matters of Corps protocol."
"Our purpose...yes. My purpose...no."
She frowned. "Sir?"
"Your analysis is professional, thorough, and yet...incomplete. The attention we must give to Mr. Ferris and his failings is only one of the reasons for this visit...but not, from my viewpoint, the prime one.
There is another matter for us to address, and while it is not easy to discuss...we must. Ms. Keynes!...inevitably, the time will come when I will stand on the edge of what is known, and step into what is not. I have watched this happen with my telepaths on a number of occasions, as well you know..."
"Sir!" she interrupted, a coldness passing through her, as she realized what it was that he was talking about. "You're still perfectly healthy, with many years ahead of you, serving our Corps. Why are we talking about..."
Mr. Bester turned aside then, to look out the viewport...the light of hyperspace reflected upon his face. "Because we must, Ms. Keynes...because, like so many others, your understanding of my situation is not an objective one. If I may be blunt, it would appear that I've served as a father figure to you...a replacement for the mundane who abandoned you, so long ago." Not a question...a statement of fact.
She nodded mutely. "As I suspected...and not entirely unsurprising, from what little I've seen of your progression over the years...but to continue. Ms. Keynes, the only things that have *ever* mattered to me are the Corps, and my telepaths. You are one of those telepaths; but more then just one. Possibly far more then just one, but before we can proceed further along that path, it remains to be seen just how well you will handle the situation at Babylon 5..."
A glyph came to her, then...an image of her standing behind him, walking in his footsteps...and in an instant of realization, she knew what it was that he wanted from her; maybe not now, but in the fullness of time. And that while, to all outward appearances, they were going to Babylon 5 to investigate Mr. Ferris and his handling of recent events, she was going to that place to learn what it was to walk in his shoes...
And that eventually, there would come a time when he would be gone...and the transfer would, in all likelihood, become permanent. She took in a deep breath, and met Mr. Bester's level gaze. It was a frightening prospect...but, at the same time...
An exhilarating one.
{{I see that you now understand. And also, the reasons why this must be so.}}
{{I do. Sir.}}
{{It is...a beginning.}} Mr. Bester smiled. {{But we all have to start somewhere, now don't we?}} "But enough morosity!...I know that you will do well, and all things considered, it's time for us to discuss what your role in the investigation into Mr. Ferris's 'outpost' will be. A certain number of Babylon 5's crew have obviously been influencing him; it will be your task to identify them for me..."
****************
Interstellar Alliance Space Station Babylon 5
Arrivals/Departures area
10:21 EST, 03/11/2263
"Okay..." Zack Allan began, while his second-in-command, Sergeant Glenn Satamba, gazed skyward with obvious relief, and away from the pair of Drazi that were causing the fracas. "What appears to be the problem, here?"
"Explaining to human, we were." one Drazi began. "But like so many humans, did not want to listen, only speak! Huntleader called us to come to this place, but ship broke down...brave Drazi crew stranded, was very bad experience! But now we are here, wish to learn where games are."
"You missed the party." Zack replied, his face deadpan. "That was last week."
"Missed...the party." From the expression that had come onto the face of the more junior Drazi, Zack figured that being 'late' might now be hazardous to the lead Drazi's health...
"Yeah, 'fraid so. Look, if you're looking for a little entertainment, there's always Red Sector, ya know..."
The lead Drazi growled off something nasty in his own tongue, before stalking away, giving Zack yet another excuse to grin...he'd heard that one before, and it didn't even faze him, now.
"Damn!" Satamba muttered besides him, as the Drazi moved away. "Just once, Chief, I'd like to be able to understand what goes on inside their scaly little heads...just once. It'd make my day a whole lot easier!"
"Well..." Zack replied, "One thing you've probably noticed already, Sarge, is that things around here usually tend to start at bad, and go downhill from there..." At which point, Zack got a familiar uneasy feeling in the pit of his stomach, and turned around.
And wished he'd never opened his mouth. Never failed, now did it?...there HE was.
"Okay...what is it with you, Mr. Bester? Do you even come out here to visit us on your holidays, or something?"
"Hardly, Mr. Allan." Bester replied, smiling that smile that always made Zack want to send the Psi Cop to the brig without passing 'Go', and definitely without collecting the credit-chit. "I can think of much better places to spend my free time, and this certainly isn't one of them!"
Then, Zack realized that the little twerp wasn't alone...again. What appeared to be another Psi Cop was walking in his footsteps; but geez, were they throwing them into the field right out of public school or something, now? "You don't say...but what do we have here, Mr. Bester? A card carrying member of the 2263 Psi Corps cheerleaders squad, or something?"
"And good day to you too, Mr. Allan!" Bester's companion shot back at him, with a smile on her face to match Bester's. "Unfortunately, I must disagree with your assessment of my capabilities; and the reason for our visit to Babylon 5 is far from a cheery one, if I may use your term...and it is also an internal Corps matter, and as such, is none of your concern.
"Be seeing you...Mr. Allan." And with that, the young, blonde-haired female telepath swept by him, leaving a thunderstruck Zack as a target, yet again, for her companion.
"My, my..." Bester mused, "But she does have a way with words, now doesn't she? Ah, well..while I'd really love to stay and chat, Mr. Allan, you know how it goes...places to be, and things to do!" At which point, Bester moved away at speed, and almost immediately faded into the crowd.
A moment later, Satamba returned to Zack's side, a somewhat perplexed expression on his face. "Ah...what exactly was that all about, Chief?"
"A whole lot..." Zack growled, "And none of it's good!" Turning aside, he raised his left hand with a snap, and tapped the link. "Captain Lochley...this is the Chief."
"This is Lochley, Chief. Go ahead."
"Not to ruin your day or anythin', Captain..." Zack began, "But one of your favorite people in the universe just came aboard, and he's not alone..."
****************
Nearby...
Dubois blinked, and then turned away. He hadn't been wrong...it had been him.
Byron's murderer had come back to Babylon 5...and now, he would have to tell the others about this, especially Evenrain; Evenrain would have to be the first to know, all things considered. Dubois began to walk, and a moment later, it was as if he had never been there, in the first place.
****************
Captain's Office
11:12 EST
It was amazing, Elizabeth Lochley considered, how the first time she'd met this man, it had been as a result of a call for help...her call for help, to be precise. The second time had been similar...right up until the point when every member of John's inner circle, him included, had tried to convince her that Bester was nothing but trouble. Mr. Garibaldi, of course, had tried to take a flying leap at the telepath...but she'd never been one to make character evaluations on the fly. And because of what some would consider a 'character flaw', she'd then decided to give Bester the benefit of the doubt.
Which, of course, had led to the whole thing with Byron. How that had ended had, for the most part, been Bester's fault...and she'd been glad to stay out of his way when he'd returned to the station the previous summer, hunting for another rogue telepath. This time around, though, that wasn't going to be possible...because right after Zack had finished talking to her, Bester himself had done the same, requesting a meeting with her as soon as possible.
A meeting including one other individual...and that significant 'other' was now occupying the other chair in front of her desk, next to Bester: Colin Ferris. It was emminently clear from the expression on the younger Psi Cop's face that he would rather be anywhere else in the galaxy than here, at the moment.
"So let me see if I've got this straight, Mr. Bester..." she began again. "The Corps decided to send you to Babylon 5, to check out Mr. Ferris, here..."
"Exactly, Captain. It is the policy of the Corps to send a senior official of my caliber to new permanant outposts approximately three months after that outpost has been established. The purpose of this, as you may well understand, is to ensure our personnel are interacting with the local population without any problems...and if there are concerns, that the critiquing officer must determine practical solutions to them with a minimum of fuss."
"I...see. And what does this 'investigation' have to do with me and my crew, Mr. Bester?"
"Very little...but since you're Babylon 5's commanding officer, I thought I'd take the polite route, and let you know about this before I began my duties here. The last time I approached you personally, of course, involved a bad experience for us both...it never should have gone as far as it did, and in comparison, this matter is straight forward...almost common-place, among my kind. If all goes well from this moment forward, you won't even notice us being about our business..."
"All the same, Mr. Bester," Colin interjected, "I think I'll be keeping Captain Lochley up to speed on how your investigation is progressing, if you don't mind?"
Lochley watched, then, as Bester's eyes hardened briefly, before the smile returned. "As you see fit, Mr. Ferris; you do, of course, have to interact with the Captain and her crew on a daily basis. I will leave such 'reports' in your all-too capable hands."
"Why thank you, Mr. Bester." Colin replied, his eyes now equally tight. "I'll remember that."
"Nevertheless, Captain," Bester concluded, rising out of his chair, and switching tangents yet again, "Regardless of who reports to whom, it is also my duty to inform you that the investigation into Mr. Ferris and his 'situation' will begin shortly after the midday meal. And if there's nothing else..."
"One more thing, Mr. Bester." she replied, even as the telepath turned away. "I can't help but notice you brought another Psi Corps officer with you to my station...to assist in your 'investigation', perhaps?
"And doesn't the young lady have a voice?" Lochley concluded, turning her attention to Bester's patiently waiting companion.
Bester paused in mid-step, and then turned back to face her. "Indeed she does, Captain...and you will forgive me for not making introductions, earlier. Captain Lochley!...I have the honour of introducing you to my newest assistant, intern Psi Corps officer Sheynell Keynes...rating, P12. Miss Keynes, introduce yourself to the Captain."
"Captain Lochley..." the young telepath began, fixing her with a clinical, almost detached gaze, "I've heard a great deal about you, and especially about your command, from Mr. Bester and others...and since this is the first mission that the Corps has allowed me to undertake outside Earthspace, I'm quite sure that my stay aboard your station will be an...interesting one.
"But as Mr. Bester indicated, Captain, it's been a long trip for us both; and as such, I shall bid you good day at this point...until we next see one another." With that, Ms. Keynes turned on her heeled, polished boot, and perfunctorily nodded in Colin's direction. "Mr. Ferris." And then, she and Bester left Lochley's office together.
"Damn..." Lochley began, a moment later. "Here we go again..."
Colin nodded grimly, in return. "I wasn't expecting him to be the one sent to check me out, Captain...but I suppose I should have forseen this possibility, right from the start. You have to understand that while some like to think of the Corps as just one big faceless black-uniformed army...I can't imagine why..." His mouth briefly flickered in a lopsided smile. "That's not the way it is at all, as a matter of fact.
"Let's just say, for now, that the part of the Corps that sent me to Babylon 5 doesn't quite approach things the same way as Bester's people do, when it comes to relating with normals."
Lochley nodded. "And since Mr. Bester and his telepaths apparently resent them sending you here..."
"That the next several days aren't going to be enjoyable ones for me. In any case, I'm going to try and protect you and the rest from the worst of what might happen..."
"Meaning, what, exactly?"
"Bester already has some ammunition to use againt me, Captain." Colin replied. "Otherwise, he wouldn't have forged in here so pleasantly. What I do know, from studying his history of service to the Corps, is that Mr. Bester never smiles and is pleasant at the same time, unless he believes he has the upper hand...in any situation.
"Adding my failure to capture Dr. Frost back in January to my decision on the Thoreson matter...placed hand-in-hand with the fact that I seem to have established better relations with you and your people then any Corps officer has, to date... "
"Bester probably thinks that some of us have unduly influenced you." Lochley wearily finished for him.
"I wasn't going to say it, Captain, but that's exactly the way he's going to approach this, yes."
"Now...does that mean that we should expect another visit from him or his aide, Ms. Keynes, in the near future? And that they might be asking questions we don't want to answer?"
"Or worse." Colin darkly noted. "All things considered, Captain, I'm considering his aide to be the bigger concern, for now. From the visits he's made here over the years, you and the rest should have some idea of the way he thinks, and the way he moves...but Miss Keynes, now she's the unknown in this equation. Until she acts for the first time, we won't be able to predict those actions...and what she'll try, either."
"Although...the very fact that Bester's taken her on as his assistant tells us quite a bit, when you come to think of it. Bester wouldn't have bothered, unless she approaches situations the same way he does...
"In my opinion, we're probably looking at Bester's newest protege, here."
Colin nodded. "That would my assessment, yes. And since you've already discovered, first hand, that trouble follows him around...in this case, I'm afraid that two's certainly not better then one..."
****************
Elsewhere...
{{Evaluate and examine the evidence.}}
A nod. {{His defences are well-formed...of surprising strength, even, given that he was trained by the Humanists.}}
{{But she's a mundane, Ms. Keynes!...did you see?}}
{{A little, before we left their line-of-sight. She intended to speak to him, after our departure.}} A grim smile. {{That is our first clue.}}
{{Indeed; now, it is up to us to assemble the full picture of what is going on here...}}
****************
Down Below; Gray 15
13:00 EST
"He's here...what do we do?"
"Yes." the reply came. "He is, Makay, and I thank you for doing what you did, in observing his arrival...and being careful about extracting yourself from what might have ended up being a distressing situation."
The others gathered close, then, to hear her words. "We are not his target, this time; he does not even suspect our presence, here...and this must continue. We must not repeat the mistakes that others made, the errors that caused Byron to sacrifice himself, in our name.
"We have established something remarkable here, but something which is also hidden. And as long as he does not find out we are here, the dream will continue...and what Byron began in this place, may YET be."
The gathering conferred for a moment, in their own way, and then, in turn, they all bowed to her. They would respect her wishes...for now. Partly because another, better option had not opened itself up to them, as of yet...but mostly, because they wanted to live.
While Makay Dubois, the one who had started it all, suddenly realized that there was someone missing from the gathering...and began to have doubts. All of a sudden, he turned away, and faded into the shadows.
He had to find him.
****************
In the Garden, a man walked alone...and that man was not remarkable, did not stand out in any way, unless you looked into his eyes. The man knew what had happened...knew that the MetaPol officer who had murdered his brother had returned to Babylon 5. It was all too apt, he supposed; a synchrony he would not...could not, ignore.
The man twisted his mouth into a sardonic smile. Let the others hide in Down Below with Evenrain...that was not his way, and this chance might never come again.
He, Owen Strainger, would meet Mr. Bester in a place and a time of his own choosing...
And one of them would die.
***************** ACT TWO *****************
The Garden
Babylon 5
13:27 EST, 03/11/2263
Approximately a quarter of an hour had passed since Mr. Bester had parted ways with her to begin setting up the series of 'interviews' that he would be conducting with the mundanes in Babylon 5's upper echelon. His parting instructions to her had been to 'learn what she could about the station'.
In her own way, and own fashion, of course.
Sheynell smiled mirthlessly as she looked back towards the axis support column behind her, and performed a quick line-of-sight scan to ensure that no one was following her. The more serious investigations would come in due course; for now, though, it was time to satisfy her curiousity with respect to an Alliance organization that had become interesting to her in the fairly recent past.
To that end, she walked to spinward along a paved and depressed corridor that ran through the largest agricultural plot in the Garden, the coordinates of her destination long since memorized. And in due course, emerged from those farmlands, to see that destination close at hand.
In the near distance, a set of short crystal and stone towers rose out of a larger windowed complex, the towers connected by a handful of bridges. The compound was set apart from the other building complexes in the station's interior by the surrounding agricultural land; and since it was connected to the decks below by only two transport tubes, it was easily defendable...an enviable trait, all things considered.
Which served the interests of its present residents, all too well; the force that the Minbari named Anla'shok...or of course, the Rangers, by most humans. Corps intelligence reports suggested that the Rangers had been instrumental in repelling the advances of the Shadows and the Vorlons...and thereafter, had stepped forward to serve as the Interstellar Alliance's version of a police force.
Except of course, she mentally added, when war couldn't be avoided -- such as in the recent conflict with the Centauri. Then, that guise could be easily cast away, revealing the Rangers for what they really were: a force of warriors, matched with their admittedly deadly force of warships.
And then, she cursed; she'd let her mind wander, of course: by far her worst habit...and someone was coming. Perhaps the Ranger commander in this place had placed guards along the perimeter of his domain. If so, he couldn't be blamed for doing such a thing; if she'd been in his position, she probably would have done exactly the same thing.
Sheynell focused on the approaching presence, and raised her eyebrows; now this was interesting. The approaching Ranger was many things... adventurous and disciplined in equal measure, and a leader that knew how to take chances, when that was required. But by far the most interesting fact to catalogue was the following: the human sent to intercept her possessed what were, for a mundane, an interestingly powerful set of natural blocks.
But this confrontation was the one she wanted, oh yes! And so, Sheynell waited patiently until the woman in warrior black appeared out of the small copse of trees in front of the compound; and then, she moved forward to speak to her.
"Boy!...be still my beating heart," muttered the woman. "So, to what do we owe this honour? It's been some time since your kind's shown any interest in the Rangers, Miss...?"
"My name is Sheynell Keynes; Miss Pratchett, is it?" The Ranger nodded, her eyes narrow; Sheynell laughed. "Please, spare me your suspicions! If I had wished you harm, I would not have approached your place of power so openly. Instead, I could have quite easily slipped amongst you like a ghost, observing and learning what I wished to, and then striking when I deemed the moment right. But that wouldn't have served my purpose..."
"Which is?"
"To speak to you, of course." she airily added. "I've always wondered about your kind, ever since I first met a Ranger under admittedly different and unusual circumstances, almost two years ago; what loyalties you hold, and to who...and why?"
Pratchett shrugged, though her smile remained a little acid. "Miss Keynes, I don't think the Corps ever could understand us, no matter how much I explained. But try this on for size, if you like..."
Her voice shifted subtly, becoming more formal. "I am a Ranger. I walk in the dark places where others dare not enter. I served under John Sheridan and the Rimstalker during the Shadow War, and I helped to hold the line against the evils of the galaxy. What I've done, I've done in Valen's name, and in the name of the One we all serve. I live for the One. I would die for the One."
Abruptly, the Ranger grinned impishly. "And I have, on occasion, done the One's laundry." She raised an eyebrow at a now nonplussed Sheynell. "Was that what you wanted to learn from us...Miss Keynes?"
"To a degree...yes." She replied, after taking a moment to gather her thoughts. "I can't help but notice, though, that you mentioned the 'One', Miss Pratchett. The Ranger I referred to also mentioned this 'One'; although she never really made it clear who, or what, the 'One' was..."
"Exactly," came the reply. "I must assume that the individual you refer to is a red-haired telepath named Brianna Tolmanes?" Sheynell nodded. "I thought as much. I've heard of this matter, of course, through my own sources...how Anla'shok Tolmanes was forced to break her vow of service to the Rangers by a Psi Corps officer named Bester. Do you know this man, by any chance?"
She laughed. "And your kind are supposed to know everything that's going on around you? In this case, it would appear that your knowledge is sadly lacking!...Mr. Bester is my intern supervisor, and is also aboard this station, as we speak.
"But to conclude...it would appear that we've now exhausted the possibilities for this conversation..." Sheynell began to turn away, but stopped to add one more thing. "Although, before I go, I must add this, Miss Pratchett: while you certainly do have a flair for speeches, maybe you should look for shadows a little closer to home then you have been.
"Good day." Not leaving the mundane time for another retort, she turned away then, more or less content with what she had learned. Ever since her mentor had removed Ms. Tolmanes from the Ranger rank-and-file, that organization had become dangerously vulnerable to telepathic influence. And like so many other mundane organizations, establishing agents within their command structure was a delicious possibility.
She nodded in satisfaction, as she moved back out into the farmlands. In time, she would tell Mr. Bester of this concept, after developing it further. The humans among the Rangers could certainly be made to serve the Corps.
Even as she served the Corps...in all the ways that mattered.
But enough of that, for now...her curiousity had been satisfied, and now, it was time to undertake the task that Mr. Bester had assigned her on the way here from Earth. And, Sheynell decided, a wicked expression slowly creeping onto her face, that after the interplay she had observed between Captain Lochley and Mr. Ferris before lunch, that she knew exactly who her first 'target' was going to be...
****************
Director Halloran's Office
13:51 EST
"You didn't waste any time getting here, now did you?" Tessa Halloran critically observed, as Jamie came into the Director's office at speed. "Though after the encounter you just had with Bester's follower outside your compound, I can certainly understand your concern."
Jamie sighed, and threw herself into the seat in front of Tessa's desk. "I should have known that you would know about that, already...which is terribly ironic, all things considered, since I'm supposed to be the observant one, around here."
"If you don't mind me saying this, commanding a White Star for as long as you did didn't exactly allow you to practice the skills you need, to deal with Bester's kind. If I may be blunt, you need to be more suspicious around them then you've ever been, in the recent past. In my experience, they're always out to get you...something the previous Director of Covert Intelligence learned the hard way."
"Michael Garibaldi..." Jamie muttered. There were so many stories about the guy, she wondered what it would be like to deal with him in person..."So; what can you tell me about this Bester character, then?"
"In brief, every time he's come aboard, trouble's followed him one step behind." the Director informed her. "And he holds the loyalty of a good chunk of the Psi Corps, mostly because he's spent most of the last three decades training them..."
"I see. Well, then...it looks like his latest assistant, Ms. Keynes, may be more of a chip off his block then any who have come before her."
"Would you care to back up that analysis with some facts?" Jamie nodded, and proceeded to relate the core of what had occurred in her meeting with the cold young telepath, only minutes before. And as she spoke, Tessa Halloran's eyes grew ever more narrow...
"Damn!...and I thought the biggest trouble-maker out of the two of them was going to be Bester, like always. Thank you, Ms. Pratchett; I appreciate you telling me this...because if Bester's little groupie steps as far out of line as I think she might, I'll clamp down on her so hard it'll make her pretty little head spin. Does that set your mind more at ease?"
She had no arguments with this...and shortly thereafter, as she was making her way back to the Compound, she came to what was, for her, a fairly reasonable conclusion: one that would later be paid off in full.
Mr. Bester's icy young assistant would have to watch how she stepped very carefully, now that the Director was on the prowl.
****************
Green Thirteen
Meeting Room 17-A
14:01 EST
"And now..." Bester began, fixing Colin with a critical eye, "We will talk of many things, Mr. Ferris, you and I. Athough, I fear, the topics will not include the weather..."
"Just as well," Colin muttered. "On a space station, that's a remarkably limited subject. Do you have any idea how difficult it is to start a casual conversation on Babylon 5?"
Bester smiled thinly. "Ah, yes, Mr. Ferris; they told me that you possessed an...unusual sense of humour. I trust you've not let it affect your performance, as it has in the past?"
Colin sighed. "With all due respect, Mr. Bester, spare me the veiled threats...please. I know why you've come here, and why your faction decided to overrule my superiors in conducting this investigation..."
His smile mocking, Bester 'cast a glyph of Colin standing before a ominous Corps tribunal board. "You think I've come here to shut you down, don't you? I haven't, of course...
"At least, not yet."
"If I may be blunt, sir," Colin sharply replied, "Saying that doesn't mean it won't become true, eventually!"
"You shouldn't believe everything you've heard about me." Bester replied. "I can help you, you know..."
"And I need help, of course..." he muttered sardonically.
Bester nodded. "More then you suspect, Mr. Ferris. For now, however, let's set our arsenal of words aside for a moment, and begin to come to the point. The Corps has sent me to Babylon 5 on numerous occasions during the past five years, to deal with certain, shall we say...local problems. As a result of these visits, I've accumulated a great deal of experience when it comes to dealing with this place and its mundane residents; experience you do not, as yet, possess."
"That experience will come, sir...in time. For right now, though, I consider the good relations I've managed to establish with Captain Lochley and the majority of her staff to be a little more important, actually."
"And why would that be? They're mundanes, Mr. Ferris!...what possible reason could there be for us to want to interact with them, in the way you describe?"
"Unlike you, sir..." Colin ground out, "I'm a permanant resident of this station, and also the only MetaPol officer within an area of space larger than I like to think about. It's in my best interests to establish good ties with the people here, if I'm to have a hope in Hell of doing my job!"
"All the same, that's exactly why Director North sent me here. While keeping on good terms with the locals may seem to be important from your perspective, it opens you up to outside influences; on Babylon 5, this can be a dangerous practice. If you will recall, the first commercial telepath we sent here later became a powerful rogue; while the second? Well, she went insane, of course; a very sad affair, that was.
But I digress. As a officer of the Corps, your greatest duty is to the Corps, you can never let yourself forget this. And as for the job...the job must always come first; whatever working relationships we establish with the mundanes around us are a distant second priority, by comparison. Indeed, if your focus on duty had been clearer upon your arrival here, there's a chance that Paul Frost might, even now, be on his way towards rejoining the mainstream of Corps society...but he's not, of course.
Mr Ferris; as our representative on Babylon 5, you cannot afford such failures.
Do you understand?" Bester inquired, a steely glint in his eyes. Grimly, Colin nodded; it would, he deemed, be unwise to argue with Bester at this stage. "Good. But we've only begun, I'm afraid; there are many other things we must discuss before my visit here is concluded, some related to the above matter, many not..."
And then, Bester abruptly switched his approach. "For instance; my dear Mr. Ferris!...while you may have placed yourself on good terms with the Captain and her staff, what kind of respect for the Corps have you been teaching them, as a result of this apparently ill-timed case of good will?"
Now this was way too good of an opportunity to ignore, in his opinion. "For the Corps, sir...quite a lot, I believe. But in counterpoint, if you don't mind me saying this, it occurs to me to wonder whether or not your new assistant, Ms. Keynes, has fallen victim to the delusion that she is the Corps?"
Colin watched, then, as Bester's expression darkened; now that'd hit a nerve, hadn't it? "I was hoping that you wouldn't bow down to that level, Mr. Ferris; but from your record, I should have expected something like this. For now, you will treat Miss Keynes as you would any other Corps officer. For her, this is an important learning experience; and she will in due course, if all goes well, become another useful addition to my team.
But be warned..." Bester continued, his tone now harshly cautioning. "If I find that you've interfered with her investigations, I may come to believe that you're attempting to influence her. And that of course, might mean that you have something to hide.
"Do you have something to hide, Mr. Ferris?"
Right at that moment, Colin, to his surprise, found that he had become angrier then he had for a great many years...but he didn't let it show; couldn't let it show, because if he did, Bester's victory in the here and now would become complete. "I don't believe that's the case, sir. But by all means, I invite Ms. Keynes and yourself to conduct your...investigations. I think you'll find that I've been doing my job here to the best of my ability; and also, that the crew of Babylon 5 may respect me more than you might believe."
"We'll see..." Bester concluded, a thoughtful, considerng expression now on his face. "Now won't we?" And then, in a moment measured both in a heartbeat and an eternity, the older officer rose to his feet, and left the room.
Which finally let Colin relax...a little. This wasn't over yet, of course, not by a long shot. But he had certainly survived the opening act.
Although, he mentally added, Bester's next move would undoubtedly be a more challenging one. At least, there would be a little time to prepare...
****************
Geneva, Earth
19:03 EST
This close to the equinox, Geneva was well into its evening dress by the time Stephen Franklin called it a day; a ropes and lace network of lights illuminated the darkened city, the web converging at the diadem of Earthdome that dominated the southeastern skyline.
He'd walked it a few times already; a brisk walk to loosen muscles clenched by twelve or fifteen hours of tension, followed by a hot cafe mocha at one of the small restaurants along the lower terrace of the dome. Then just a few blocks back to his small, neatly kept apartment on the Rue Voltaire.
Not tonight, though. Ever since the disturbing meeting with that Molyneux person, it seemed as though this place, which he'd thought he was getting into the flow of, had gone almost as nuts as the worst times on Babylon 5. First the Gaim had gone into molt early, then three of his project leaders had quit (none of them the ones he had really wanted to get rid of), and just today the entire Fzghl'k delegation had come down with a hideous and painful rash due to a surfeit of guacamole dip at a diplomatic gala.
And that was just the mornings, when he did rounds, saw patients, and checked in on his researchers. The afternoons had been taken up with a nerve-wracking one-step-forward-two-steps-back jitterbug of meetings, commcalls and interviews, so he had to stay late into the evenings just to keep his own notes and reports up to date.
Among other issues currently wasting altogether too much of his time, it seemed as though the delays in setting up the xenological cross-reference project were, in fact, to be extended. A two-hour wrangle with various members of the appropriate department had elicited only a vague promise to get back to him during the next budgetary planning sessions, six months from now.
Oddly, Stephen's passing reference to 'Bureau 13' had produced only blank looks. Cursory research had produced no information whatsoever, and other matters had conspired to prevent him doing a more in-depth search. He'd finally had time to set up a correlating query -- it was running now, to be checked first thing in the morning. He couldn't help feeling that there was something he was missing, though.
Franklin wondered if he should put a message through to John Sheridan, on Minbar. If anybody were likely to know anything about what was starting to look like some sort of covert government agency, it would be John. He shook his head ruefully -- he was going to have to break himself of the habit of running to his old friends for help. Especially when that particular old friend was now the President of the greatest intergalactic power to arise in the past thousand years...no, he'd figure it out himself. It wasn't like he was some hick clinician, after all. In the morning. For now, it was the tube to the gym for a good hard workout, then home to journals and bed.
He took a last look around the office, then brushed the sensor that turned the lights off, engaging the security system on his way out.
Moments later the desk console hummed back to life, apparently on its own, and began a remote export of the doctor's most recent log and data files.
****************
A relatively short distance away, most of it straight down, Mr. Molyneux was reviewing the results of his own department's in-depth analysis.
The preliminary interview with Dr. Franklin a few days ago hadn't gone nearly as well as he had hoped. Something had spooked the man -- obviously the preliminary intel had grossly underestimated the level of political savvy and protective paranoia the doctor had developed in his years on that blasted space station. The assumption had been that the Chief of Staff of the station's medical facilities would have been too wrapped up in his work to be more than incidentally involved in the rebellion -- let alone the Shadow War -- let alone have any inkling that the two might have been connected.
That assumption might have been optimistic.
Quickly, Molyneux reviewed the file on Franklin's family and associates. Father a decorated general, mother a teacher, four sisters -- those could be useful in a pinch. No local romantic entanglements, but there were rumors linking him to one Teresa Halloran, former terrorist and leader of the Mars Resistance.
Well, now, that was interesting. If Franklin had been involved in the negotiations between Babylon 5 and the Mars Resistance, he would have learned some very good lessons on paranoia. The man without a name contemplated the image of the new Director of the Interstellar Alliance's Covert Intelligence arm. He found her cool blonde beauty and level gaze...disturbing, for reasons he had no desire to analyze. Yes, he was definitely going to have to reconsider his approach to Dr. Franklin.
He needed the doctor's expertise, and his resources, for various projects the Bureau was working on -- some begun under Shadow supervision, others he himself had initiated. This twenty-third century technology was highly advanced in many respects, but certain areas still needed...development before his plans could be put into action. And, in the immediate future, Molyneux was likely to have need of the doctor's services in a more direct fashion. He begain to consider how to approach Franklin for the second interview....at a cafe near the Dome, at lunch, perhaps...
There came a buzz at the door.
"Come!" he called, seeing through the transparent silicon polymer that it was his second in command. The grim-faced blonde woman in black stepped through the doorway smartly.
"Sir! We have a call from our contact. There's been a slight change in plan. They will be arriving within twelve standard hours." She refrained from commenting beyond a bare recital of the facts. Despite her...disadvantage with regard to this man, their thoughts on this matter were so congruent that no discussion was necessary.
"Unexpected," the white-haired man observed. "Are the procedures in place?"
A slight flush momentarily darkened the small, semicircular scar on the woman's left cheek. He could tell that his implied doubt of her preparedness had added another jot to the score she was keeping against him. Interesting.
"Yes sir," she replied flatly. "A momentary misdirection of the satellite sensor grid has been arranged, precisely when the transport is passing through. We've been assured that the shuttle will not be detectable by ground-based systems, and the pickup team is moving into position at the designated coordinates now."
"The pilot has been briefed on the terrain?"
"Apparently there are similar mountain ranges on this creature's homeworld -- they anticipate no trouble."
"Good. And the contingency plan for Dr. Franklin?"
"Initiated."
"Keep me informed. That will be all for now, Ms. Donne."
The taciturn telepath nodded fractionally, turned on her heel, and left the office. Molyneux watched her through the glastic wall as she walked heavily, methodically across the open space below, hands clasped behind her back, not looking left or right. Though they had come to Bureau 13 under the same auspices, Molyneux had never trusted her, and he knew that distrust was mutual.
Before her...recruitment by their mutual associates, Donne had been high in the ranks of the Psi Corps enforcement arm -- a level only achieved by the most powerful of telepaths. The fact that she was unable to scan or influence him must make his occupation of the top spot in their covert, yet powerful organization that much more galling to her. Yet she stayed, and she obeyed, even now that their hidden masters had passed on, leaving Bureau 13, still technically accountable to Earthgov through a series of innocuous-looking administrative fictions, effectively an independent entity.
An independent entity with its own negotiating position, Molyneux reminded himself. A bargaining position that was about to be tested, bright and early in the morning.
****************
Down Below; Gray Sector
19:15 EST
All around him, the murmurs of despair, greed and bitterness threatened to swamp the consciousness of the unknowing. But Dubois was far from unknowing, as he proceeded through the darkened corridors. He knew that the one he sought was here somewhere; it was only a matter of...
{{Dubois.}} Makay stopped in mid-step, and spun around, his short black pony-tail whirling behind. A beckoning hand emerged from behind a partition, followed a moment later by a familiar, grinning face. {{In here.}}
He needed no persuading, and a moment later, stepped behind Strainger's curtain of silence. "Do you know how long I've been searching for you?" he burst out, somewhat testily. "Evenrain was not pleased..."
"Tell me, Dubois..." Strainger interrupted, "Did you undertake this search because you were concerned for me? Or were you, instead, acting in her name? Because if that's the case..."
He shook his head tiredly. "Give me a break, Owen! You, of all people, should know better then to ask such a thing. When I first came aboard last fall, you were there for me with hand extended, and smiling an open smile. It's just that ever since then...Owen, there's times that I worry about you."
Strainger shrugged. "You don't have to worry about me, Dubois. I can take care of myself just fine, thanks all the same. And despite what Evenrain's been telling you all, sometimes the best option isn't to hide; sometimes, we have to do things our own way..."
Dubois let out his breath in a great rush. "I knew it, I knew you'd want to do this, just as soon as you found out that he'd come aboard. Owen, it's too dangerous!..."
"LIFE's dangerous, Makay..." Strainger interrupted. "Every day we wake up is a day when death might come for us; but sometimes...sometimes, you have to take chances, and this is one I can't ignore. Almost a year ago, now, Bester killed my brother...and now he's returned, accompanied by a girl, of all things!...Byron's replacement, I imagine. No Bloodhounds, no backup...just this girl, Makay. It's ideal!"
"But what if he finds out we're here, Owen?...finds out that you're planning this attack? And what about Evenrain?...she'll be very disappointed in us, you know..."
"To hell with all that!" Strainger suddenly roared. "Bester and his wolves have repeatedly, continuously hurt us for years, now! My brother died because Byron gave him something to believe in; something that Bester only wanted to destroy." Strainger's voice grew quieter, then. "I know you think Evenrain's doing the right thing, Makay...and in her own way, she is; but I have to do this. I have to try and kill him, before he hurts any more of us; because this opportunity may never come again.
Strainger sighed. "Well...I guess there's only one more thing to say: are you with me on this, Makay? I helped you when you first came to Babylon 5; now, will you help me in my greatest hour of need? All you have to do is the same thing you've done already, earlier today; watch out for Bester and his little tame follower, and report back to me with their locations, until my moment to strike arrives. The moment when Bester will FINALLY meet his maker, if I have my way.
So..." Strainger concluded, his gaze bright and expectant. "Can I count on you, Makay? Will you help me?"
Dubois closed his eyes, and took one long, deep breath, as the multitude of thoughts in his mind resolved down into the one, inescapable decision that had to be made; could he willingly follow Owen Strainger past what would probably be the point of no return?
The answer, when it came, was as surprising as the decision.
****************
Captain's Office
23:30 EST
Lochley paused for a moment, and began to massage her temples with both sets of fingers, while casting a somewhat despairing glance across the still all-too-sizable stack of papers in her 'in' pile. While the 'finished' pile, over on the other side of her computer terminal, was definitely the larger one by now, some days it just seemed like paperwork sat on the corner of your desk, and cloned itself when you weren't watching...
But damn it all!...this needed to get done before she went to bed, today of all days. Tomorrow, who knew what curve ball Bester might throw in her direction...
Lochley blinked, and placed a steadying hand on her desk, then, as the room shimmered. Damn. She hadn't thought that she was this tired; would she even be able to...
****************
Cautiously, Sheynell stuck her head around the corner, and then smiled; now that had been easier then she'd thought. Just look at the scene: the imperious commander of Babylon 5, Elizabeth Lochley herself...staring away into nothing, quite thoroughly tranced out, as far as she could tell.
Everything was working out just perfectly, thus far. Between the lateness of the hour, and after the occasional covert probe she'd done earlier, she knew perfectly well that Lieutenant David Corwin was in the Observation Dome at this very moment, and not due to leave for another hour. Meanwhile, Security Chief Zack Allan was in his office, going over the day's reports. Neither was likely to interfere.
Which was, of course, ideal for her purposes. This wouldn't take very long, not the way she was going to do it. And as for the Captain, well now!...these sort of things just tended to happen to people that worked until midnight, now didn't they?
The sound of her booted heels clicking on the deck was the only sound to be heard, as she slowly approached the desk. This was something that she'd wanted to try for years, now, of course...something that most of her rigorous instructors had forbidden her to attempt. 'The minds of normals must not be tampered with' some of the more orthodox of them had told her. One of them, however, Ms. Kapteyn (her favorite) had added a clause to that rule...
'Unless there is just cause to do so.'
There certainly was, in this case. She'd seen what had passed between Mr. Ferris and this woman, earlier in the day. It was obvious to her that the Captain was one of the mundanes in this place that had already had an effect on their officer. Now, Sheynell considered, as she slowly removing her left glove and reached out her hand towards the Captain's face, it was just a matter of finding out how that had happened...
Unfortunately, it was then that the same Achilles' heel that had struck her earlier that day, returned with full force. So focused had she been on preparing for her 'inquisition' that she hadn't bothered to check her surroundings...an almost terminal mistake, she realized, only a moment later...
As the harsh, shocking whine of an arming PPG sounded, only inches behind her head.
"Well, well," Tessa Halloran ground out. "If it isn't our little Psi Corps cheerleader. Didn't anyone mention to you you have to ask permission before scanning?"
Sheynell blinked; twice in one day, she'd let this happen to her! Mr. Bester would not be pleased, when he found out. "Director Halloran; I should have expected this, all things considered. You're lucky that I was concentrating on the Captain as much as I was, since I could have easily torn your mind apart, the moment you came around that corner..."
"Oh really. Just how strong are you, Miss Keynes?" came the reply. "You're a P12, of course, but can you hold the Captain in trance, at the same time you're tearing my mind into little bite-sized pieces? Not to mention, of course, getting off this station with your hide in one piece, after Mr. Allan discovers what you've done to us both.
It's your call, of course...but you know, I've had a lot of experience dealing with your kind over the years...and the truth of it is, so many times, your victories come down to how well you can intimidate 'us mundanes'. Well I'm afraid you're not doing a very good job of it so far, because I'm sure not feeling very intimidated, at the moment!"
"I...see."
"I really hope you do..." the Director snapped, her aim unwavering and true. "Because I'm calling your bluff, Ms. Keynes.
"Let her go. I won't ask again."
***************** ACT THREE *****************
Near Captain Lochley's Office
23:44 EST, 03/11/2263
A short distance away from the present focus of Tessa Halloran's hostility, Bester allowed himself a moment of contemplation. The mundanes that were nearby didn't see him, of course; interruptions would, for the moment, be unwelcome. He wished to observe his protege; to instruct, and now...to chastise. Bester sighed, and shook his head sadly; unless reined in, Ms. Keynes would undoubtedly do something that she, and everyone else for that matter, would later regret.
And now, to the matter at hand. Bester removed his glove, and stretched the fingers of his right hand lightly out against the corridor wall. He would not...could not allow such talent to be destroyed by something as simple as a mundane's itchy trigger finger. Only a short distance seperated her mind and his, at this location; and though many he knew would argue otherwise, reaching out to her mind was quite simple.
It was almost as if the wall wasn't there, at all.
****************
Captain Lochley's office
Immediately thereafter
The anger came, then; and for one long transient moment, Sheynell was tempted to push ahead, regardless; to move faster then the Director could possibly hope to respond. The job had to be done; this was an intolerable interruption!
She formed a mild-edged mental dagger, and held it in her mind's eye. It would not hurt the Director significantly, and in due course, she could erase the incident from Halloran's mind, as well. It would be so easy...
{{You will stop. NOW.}} She stiffened, and turned her head, half- despairingly, to see a familiar form appear in the corner of the office; a figure whose eyes seemed to be full of anger at what had occurred...an avatar that wasn't really there at all, of course.
{{You will turn aside. You will leave these two; and after you have reached a safe distance, you will release the Captain, Miss Keynes! And mark my words: when the majority of our business here has been concluded, we will discuss the meaning of the mistake you made here, tonight; what price you will have to pay, as a result...
And finally, how having too much pride in your abilities can prove fatal.}}
As if to prove the point, before the connection parted, her mentor 'cast a wrenching glyph down the link, of a grim but resolute Tessa Halloran standing over her body, the scar of a fatal PPG wound visible amidst her long hair. And then, with a stabbing half-twist, he was gone.
And after another long moment, so was she.
****************
Tessa blinked, and slowly lowered her weapon, as the telepath broke away from her, an almost mortified expression on her face, and bolted out of the room. Now that had been a first, in her experience; only a moment before, she'd thought that Ms. Keynes had been about to try something, when the younger woman's head had turned towards the entrance...
And all of the superiority had drained out of her, in an instant. Tessa had seen it happen, but she hadn't got a clue what had brought it to pass.
Tessa's eyes narrowed in thought, then, however, as she reached out to shake the Captain's shoulder. It was time to do her job...to examine all angles, and connect the evidence to possible causes. What if Bester (who was, by all indications, that young woman's mentor) had reached out in the instant of their confrontation, and called his protege to heel?
It was a distinct possibility; impossible to prove, of course...but all too likely, given what she already knew about Bester from the reports passed to her by Mr. Allan and Michael Garibaldi.
But!...regardless of who had done what to whom, now she had the distinct pleasure of being a bearer of bad news.
Again.
"Captain." she began, shaking Lochley's shoulder. "Captain, can you hear me?"
"What?" Lochley fuzzily muttered, shaking her head. "Tessa?"
She nodded. "And before you ask, Captain, no, I didn't come here to wake you from a nap. As a matter of fact, and I'm going to be blunt about this, if I'd arrived even five minutes later then I had, I wouldn't have been able to stop Bester's little follower from conducting what looked like it was going to be a fairly deep, and very unauthorized scan on you."
Elizabeth Lochley's eyes sharpened towards full awareness pretty much instantly at that point, and then right through into anger shortly thereafter, as she surged to her feet. "Why that little!..."
"Captain..." Tessa cautioned, "Before you decide to go and tear her head off, maybe you should stop and think things through, first. Bester's her superior officer; to get to her, you'd undoubtedly have to go through him."
"And you think I'm going to let that stop me? Lochley furiously replied. "I've never let anyone take control of my mind like that...and for it to be a little, two-bit Bester groupie like Sheynell Keynes that did it? She's going to have to pay a price for what she tried to do here!"
"In that case..." Colin Ferris wryly commented from the doorway, "Can I make a suggestion on how to do just that, that's mutually beneficient, and, hopefully, not too destructive?"
Both Lochley and Tessa swung around, at that point, to nail the Psi Cop with hostile glares, and Lochley was, of course, the first to speak. "Mister Ferris; after what one of your fellow officers just tried to do to me, I'm giving you thirty seconds to say your piece...and if I don't like what I hear, I'm throwing you right back out that door!"
"Thirty seconds..." Colin mused. "I see. All right, then, Captain, to summarize: there's a way to teach Ms. Keynes a lesson that I'm sure you'll appreciate.
"She won't, however..."
Some time passed; and eventually, Lochley finally calmed down enough to appreciate Colin Ferris's plan, and with Tessa looking on apprasingly from the side, she took a deep breath, and then made her decision. "What do you need me to do?"
"For right now, other then restraining yourself from immediately going out and trying to kill her, not a lot." Colin noted. "And as for later on, only this..."
****************
Geneva, Earth
07:13 EST, 03/12/2263
Aazhvar felt much better once their tube-car entered the tunnels. The alien gravity still dragged at him, but the acrid odor that tickled his nostrils and threatened to send him into an undignified sneezing fit had abated.
Tentatively, he blamed those huge, conical plants that covered the lower slopes of the mountains, interspersed with glaring patches of the water-dust that claimed the peaks. The light was the worst, though -- despite a liberal application of ultragreen-blocking emollient, the Human planet's sunlight made him nervous, as well as half-blind. The tunnels were at least reasonably familiar, even though the internal lights were still too bright.
His Drakh companion, of course, was oblivious. Aazhvar glowed softly with pride at the Vaarliht's command of gilhokha -- stoicism in the face of the Alien. These softskins surely could not guess how much pain she was suppressing -- both bodily and in spirit. Not much longer now, please the Dark Ones.
The Dark Ones. He still prayed to them -- still swore by them, even though they had been gone for almost two years now. Aazhvar still believed, and still served, although, to his shame, many clans of the Z'shailyl had fled the service of Those Who Wait when the Holy World was destroyed.
Aazhvar alone of his clan had stood by his Vaarliht in that deathly hour, when the seed of today's fear had, quite literally, been sown. Sometimes, in crowded spaces, with his eyes closed, he could see and j'nn it all again -- the sparking consoles, the moaning of the dying as their crippled ship limped through hyperspace. It was the last to escape the destruction, sleeted by deadly radiation when the hull-shield failed. Its engines offline, it had had to be towed to the next jumpgate by a less-damaged cohort, and Aazhvar had been certain that those fearful marks would be his last.
The Vaarliht had stood fast, then as always, propped up against the Captain's post with her esteemed Vekh'shivalht cradled in her arms. At the last, when the dying leader had bequeathed his legacy to his faithful Favored Claw, Aazhvar the Z'shailyl navigator had been the sole witness. Now that deadly legacy had brought them here -- to the homeworld, and the very Prime Nest, of the despised Humans.
The tube car had long since diverged from the more travelled ways, tunneling ever deeper beneath the great city. At last it came to rest at a stark, deserted terminal. Aazhvar discreetly assisted his Vaarliht from the car, following the softskins that had met them at the landing site. One of them approached the wall and tapped the communicator stuck to its forepaw, causing a section of wall to waver and resolve into a doorway.
Once inside, Aazhvar dropped his inner lids again -- more of that horrible ultragreen light! This place -- obviously the secret headquarters of his master's allies -- could have been intended as a torture-house for the long-wavelength-loving Z'shailyl. Every surface was white, or grey, or chrome, bouncing the intense radiation all through the space and forcing Aazhvaar to rely on j'nn to follow his guides. The j'nndan of the place was confusing, too, with the large number of life-forms, none of whose shadows or intentions he knew, and worst of all, the buzz. These creatures still used hard electronics extensively, and the whole place jangled with a dissonant chorus of chaotic currents, making him yearn with unwitting irony for the peace and holiness of the Dark Ones' Machine.
They were ushered into a room where two Humans waited. Aazhvar helped the Vaarliht fold herself into one of their furnishings before seating himself. Normally Drakh preferred to stand, but the Vaarliht's condition was worsening, and she was easily fatigued. As was fitting, Aazhvar spoke for the Drakh, translating the traditional phrases of greeting into the Human language. Yes, their landing had been uneventful. Yes, they were ahead of the agreed-upon schedule, but circumstances had dictated a change in plan.
What circumstances, the dark Human (male? hard to tell -- the sexual dimorphism in these creatures was minimal) wanted to know. Aazhvar answered carefully, as he had been briefed. Just because the Vaarliht was acting apart from the Council in this matter did not mean that she trusted these former pawns of the Dark Ones any more than they did, and there were certain plans and...resources that she had no desire to reveal. So Aazhvar explained, at a very high level, the Drakh reproductive process, and how it had gone tragically wrong in the Vaarliht's case.
The Drakh's ancestors had evolved with a dual-generation system of genetic exchange -- genetic material was passed from one Drakh to another via an independently motile, parthenogenetically generated vector. The vector attached itself symbiotically to the second Drakh, and over time was absorbed, whereupon the host developed what Humanoid species would recognize as a pregnancy.
What Aazhvar did NOT add was that since the Drakh had evolved as intelligent but highly territorial predators, the vectors had come to carry cultural and psychological information as well, eventually developing a form of telepathic link that served to connect the otherwise isolated Drakh. As civilization had developed, the vectors became an integral part of their social structure, and remained such even after the Dark Ones had modified them, breeding an semi-independent, self-replicating variant specifically tailored for...other uses. Uses that the Vaarliht did not wish these Humans to become aware of...at least, not yet.
When the Vaarliht had accepted a vector from the Vekh'Shivalht of that ill-fated ship, deadly radiation flooding from the destruction of Z'ha'dum had already corrupted the creature's genetic material. As it was resorbed into its host over the succeeding years, the Vaarliht had begun to develop anomalies in her own cell structure....
"Cancer," the brighter-colored Human supplied the word.
"Which is why you requested medical assistance," the dark Human stated. "But surely this must have occurred before -- as soon as your people," he addressed the Drakh politely, knowing she would not answer, "went into space, they must have encountered these kinds of situations. Even before, if your industrial development was anything like ours."
"Of course," Aazhvar replied. "However, the technology for treatment of this particular procedure is...relatively underdeveloped. This is partly due to a social complication. The Drakh are a highly competitive species -- this is what first drew the Dark Ones' favor, in the Times Before -- and when they perceive weakness in one of their own, their instinct is to pull down the weak one, originally by fang and claw, now more often by...."
"Politics?" the Human leader suggested.
"Even so. The Council of Return is at a delicate stage in negotiations with several possible allies at the moment, and a....reorganization could shift those negotiations in directions that the Vaarliht feels would be....less than desirable. Therefore she requires treatment that is not only expert but discreet."
"I am certain that the Vaarliht cannot be unaware that in coming to us for assistance, she is herself...shifting the balance of influence in this part of the galaxy." The Human leader was a clever being, as was to be expected from his position, even among softskins.
"The Vaarliht estimates that this shift will not be harmful to the Plan, and under certain circumstances could be of mutual benefit. The Vaarliht will rest now," Aazhvar concluded, reading the Drakh's will by minute shifts in her j'nndan.
"Of course," the Human replied. "We have prepared adjoining quarters as specified. Ms. Donne will guide you to your rooms." He indicated the brighter Human -- a female, from the title. And a telepath, he sensed, of the breed spawned by the Enemy. Interesting.
"And the medical unit?" Aazhvar inquired.
"Our resources are being mobilized even now." The dark man widened his mouth diagonally and bowed them out of the room.
****************
07:26 EST, 03/12/2263
Dr. Stephen Franklin, arriving for work early as usual, stepped out of the tube car at the busy terminal underneath the hospital complex. Two men in black leather jackets stepped out behind him.
The man who appeared at the top of the escalator wore Franklin's face, and jacket, but slightly different shoes.
****************
Captain's Office
Babylon 5
07:30 EST, 03/12/2263
"Captain." Bester began, as he entered Lochley's office, "Would you care to tell me why Miss Halloran interrupted my breakfast so rudely? It has, after all, been called the most important meal of the day..."
"Spare me the small talk, Bester, I'm just not in the mood, after what happened to me last night!"
"Ah...that." Bester mused. "From the manner in which I was summoned here, I'm going to assume that you have some concerns regarding my assistant, Miss Keynes?"
"Concerns?" she snapped. "I'm not going to beat around the bush, here; your 'assistant' tried to scan me last night, without my permission! In fact, she was well on her way to making sure I wouldn't find out it had even happened, when Director Halloran laid a rather large roadblock in front of her!"
"Yes..." Bester replied, "Holding an armed weapon against one's skull does tend to get one's attention, now doesn't it?"
Lochley furiously rose out of her chair, at that point; if Bester thought he was going to talk his way out of this one, he was wrong; dead wrong. "That's enough! I don't think there's really any point of putting this off, since it's becoming increasingly apparent you don't give a damn about anyone and anybody but yourself, your precious Psi Corps, and maybe, just maybe, the occasional follower you've been training to walk in your shadow. Well, Mr. Bester, I'm not like you at all, because I do give a damn about a great many things; and one of those is something called trust.
"The first time I met you, you gave me reason to think I could trust you. The second time, when I called you in to help us out, last year, things looked the same...right up until the moment you started to pursue your vendetta against Byron and his followers. And now? If this is the way you're training the Corps' next generation of telepaths, Bester, any trust I had in you just went right out the window.
"And as for your 'assistant', Ms. Keynes..." Lochley coldly concluded, "She'd better not come anywhere near me before you both leave; in fact, if I even as much see her in the same corridor, before then...I'll have Mr. Allan escort her to the brig."
"Please be assured, Captain..." Bester replied, "I do see your point; and while we can't undo what happened here, last night, please understand that Miss Keynes is still, for the time being, a trainee; and occasionally, that Intern officers in the Corps make mistakes that their instructors, myself included, make them regret thereafter."
"You would say that, wouldn't you? Let me remind you that this is still my station, Mr. Bester...and as long as you're here, the investigation being conducted into Mr. Ferris's affairs is only going to be handled by you from now on; only you, not her! Do I make myself perfectly, crystal clear?"
"You do, Captain." the Psi Cop replied, after another long moment, his eyes glinting dangerously. "And since it appears that today's now going to be a very busy day for me as a result of your...complaints, I don't think there's anything more for us to say to one another, at this time." Bester turned to leave, but then paused, as if for effect, to say one more thing.
"Although, I do feel that I should point something out: you should be careful who you trust, Captain. Sometimes, an open and friendly hand just isn't what it seems." And with that final, biting comment, the dark-haired telepath then left her office.
Lochley let out a long, shuddering breath, and finally allowed herself to sit back down again. Damn it all, but once again, John had been right about something she'd seen fit to disagree with him on, at the time...and all things considered, now she really couldn't blame Mr. Garibaldi for his response to the man, either.
The more you came to know Bester, the easier it became to instantly want to yell for Security when he appeared in front of you.
At that point, however, another thought came to her; what would now happen to Bester's assistant, as a result of the monumental error she had made, the previous night? She knew what he would say, of course, in reply to such an inquiry: "That is the business of the Corps, Captain Lochley, and none of your concern."
The Business of the Corps. What, exactly, she wondered, did that mean? What would it mean in the long run? Was the business of the Corps the running of humanity? Did it refer to the practice of training their younger telepaths to be darker echoes of the old?
And in the end analysis, would those practices tear the organization apart, from the inside out? Lochley leaned back in her chair, and shook her head sadly.
The way things were going, there was every chance she would live to see that conflict happen.
****************
His gaze shadowed, Bester walked down the corridor, deep in thought. The error that Miss Keynes had made some hours before was a far more dramatic one than he had at first anticipated would occur. He'd come to the conclusion, on the way here from Earth, that she would inevitably make some mistakes; but to come so far on such a tangent, so quickly?
There was no arguing with the facts, however. As it stood, everything that had happened made the investigation of Colin Ferris and his outpost all the more difficult; the information that should have resulted from a correctly handled scan of the Captain (or Director Halloran, for that matter) would now be difficult if not impossible to acquire, since Captain Lochley would almost certainly call on Mr. Allan to post guards in close proximity to all the senior station staff, until they departed.
And while the minds of those guards could certainly be overpowered...was it really worth the effort?
Bester's mouth tightened. Always, it was the same; the jobs never became any easier, and he certainly wasn't getting any younger, either. The minor goal he had set himself for this visit...weakening and controlling Colin Ferris's position on Babylon 5...would now be far harder to attain. Indeed, whether or not he would succeed in the endeavour had now been placed in doubt.
And as for the major goal? Had he been wrong about her, and how badly? Could her faults be rectified, and if they could, how could this be brought about?
He would have to think on this, most carefully.
****************
The Sanctuary
10:05 EST, 03/12/2263
Sheynell gazed out on the whirling stars, and the darkness between them, and examined what had happened the previous night, once again, trying desperately to find some good out of it all. How could it have all gone so wrong, so quickly? Had Mr. Bester been right about her? Was she so caught up in self-pride that she couldn't see her other problems, until it was too late?
Her mouth tightened into a thin, bitter line. It just couldn't be true; admittedly, she had made a rather serious mistake, and perhaps her mentor had been right to pull her out of there before an accident had happened...but prideful? No, it couldn't be true, it just couldn't!
The doubt ate at her, however. Before the night just finished, there had been no doubt in her mind about what she was, what she could do, and how the others thought of her. Sheynell Keynes; top of her class, sharpest mind in a generation, and an echo of one the greatest officers ever to serve the Corps.
And someone, eventually, if all went well, to fear. She had no friends, and never would. There was only the Corps, and she would find a way to erase this mistake, both from her mind, and from Mr. Bester's. There had to be a way, a way that would make her...
She froze, then, sensing an a now familiar mind approaching; he was well shielded, but not well enough. If he thought he could sneak up on her like that, and take advantage of her 'blind spot', he had another thing coming! Because that particular blind spot was gone now, as if it had never existed at all.
And as the moment arrived, she whirled away from the abyss, her expression fierce, to meet Colin Ferris's icy, expressionless gaze. So; he wanted a confrontation, did he?
Very well, then; she would give him one he wouldn't soon forget!
"Mr. Ferris! Did you, or did you not attend to the instructions that Mr. Bester passed on to you?"
Ferris laughed; a dark, sardonic sound. "Ah, yes; but that was before you went and tried to scan the Captain, Miss Keynes. Plus, as I understand it, your mentor wasn't all that pleased with you performance, last night, now was he?"
"That's none of your business!" Behind the other telepath, a Hyach came round the corner, and observing the confrontation brewing, changed her mind, and went right back the way she came.
"I think it is..." the other harshly replied. "You see, the moment you interfere with the minds of normals in such a fashion is the moment when I have to act, regardless of what Mr. Bester may say to me, afterwards! According to our codes, what you were going to do is against our laws and procedures. In serving Bester, would you throw those codes and strictures right out the window, Miss Keynes?"
She laughed scornfully. "I thought I'd hear you say something like that eventually, Mr. Ferris; you're a Humanist, after all...and when it comes time for the final winnowing, well, let's just say that only the strong will survive."
"And you consider my faction to be weak?" Ferris inquired. "Like this, perhaps?" Rather abruptly, a halo of light sprang into being around him, a halo only she could see...and resolved into a forest of silvery spikes. And then, only a moment later, a sharp, seemingly deadly scythe of telepathic force flashed towards her...
"Weak..." she restated, sending two spiked black tentacles out to wrap around the blade, and break it. Ferris winced, of course, and she laughed again. This was going to be all too easy; she was, in fact, wondering how they possibly could have rated him as a P12, as she formed herself up into her favorite combat form...a sea monster, the kraken. "As you will soon learn, first hand."
Colin Ferris shrugged. "They all start so bold..."
{{Enough talk!}} she angrily sent, sending out over a dozen spiked arms to pierce the spinning knives of his outer blocks. {{Defend yourself...if you can, that is.}}
And the contest was joined.
****************
Clear over on the other side of the station, Bester paused in his preparations, and laughed to himself. So; Ferris had been the one to initiate the encounter...so be it. He would not hold this against the man, but it was still a point to note. And, all things considered, maybe now she would learn the lesson he wanted her to.
And advance.
****************
Time had passed; how much time, she couldn't say, but it was clear that she was making progress. Colin Ferris's outer shield of telepathic knives had long since been stripped away, and his expression had shifted from indifference to concentration... and now, to concern, as the rotating shell-blocks beneath the destroyed outer layer were stripped away, one by one.
He was right to be concerned, of course; it was becoming increasingly clear to her how much stronger she was then he, as her nest of spiky black arms ripped away another shell, revealing a glyph or two of desperation, underneath. Perhaps this was what Bester had wanted her to do all along, when he'd stopped her from scanning that mundane, Lochley; perhaps he'd wanted her to move into a direct confrontation with Ferris, instead.
She blinked then, however, as another block dissolved, blown away in her telepathic hurricane...revealing yet more, beneath. What was this? How many of these rotating shells of his could there possibly be? She had to be getting close to his personality, by now! Ignoring the sheen of sweat on her brow, Sheynell forged on; it couldn't be too much longer...
{{Have you learned your lesson, yet?}} Sheynell paused in consternation...she couldn't believe it! How could he have enough energy to face up to this attack, and still talk to her?
{{The only lesson...that counts.}} she shot back. {{I'm going to win. I'm going to reveal your little secrets, and I'm definitely going to redeem myself in the eyes of my mentor.
And you're going to lose...Mister Ferris.}}
{{I wouldn't be so sure of that, if I was you.}} came the biting, suddenly (impossibly) full strength reply, and all of a sudden, she realized the horrible, unbelievable truth. This image of weakness he had portrayed, oh Hell, it had all been...
A trap.
She pulled back from his mind, desperately trying to shore up her own blocks. But not quick enough, of course, as all the rotating shells around Colin Ferris's mind suddenly revolved into synchrony, revealing what amounted to the barrel of a gun.
A gun pointed straight at her. A gun that discharged, a moment later, casting millions of psionic blades through her mind.
And even as she fell down into blackness, two unacceptable truths hit home. The first, that she had lost a contest...for the first time ever.
And the second, as she returned to consciousness, a few minutes later?
****************
"You're a mind shredder." the young woman laid out on the deck accused, as Colin grimly retreated into himself, now that the the lesson had been taught. "You cheated!"
"Cheated?" he dryly inquired. "When, exactly, did we agree on rules?"
The younger telepath's face flushed. "Was that meant to scare me, Mister Ferris?"
"Not quite. You needed to be taught a lesson, though; a lesson that Mr. Bester could never have taught you."
"And what..." Ms. Keynes spat back at him, her voice full of venom, "Would that be?"
Colin smiled bitterly. "That old age and treachery will beat youth and enthusiasm every time. And also, that if I had wanted to kill you, you would now be very dead.
But, please recall that this is only a lesson, and not real life. I assure you, Miss Keynes, reality will not be so kind." Colin turned away from her, and left the chamber.
****************
She wanted to scream; and if she had even been a little less restrained, the scream would have come. What had happened before had been failure; this, on the other hand, had been humiliation of the worst possible kind. He had done it on purpose, she was sure of it. But regardless of the reasons, once Mr. Bester found out...
Sheynell scrambled to her feet, her hair disheveled. Once Mr. Bester found out what had happened... that the very telepath they had come here to investigate had done this to her...there was every chance he would abandon her to the wolves. The shadowers. Those who would do anything in their power to pull her down.
There had to be a way to prevent that from happening. There had to be something she could do to redeem herself in his eyes, before it was too late.
There had to be...but what?
***************** ACT FOUR *****************
Babylon 5
The Zen Garden
14:30 EST, 03/12/2263
Sheynell bent down and reached out to touch the patterns in the sand, making her own impression on the canvas. Her mouth twisted into a bitter smile; this was, of course, an ironic comparison with her own situation; she'd blown into this place like a hurricane, shifting the sands with undirected fury...and it hadn't taken long for a response to come to that threat.
Colin Ferris and Director Tessa Halloran had taught her some very important lessons...but the question was, would there be any time left to apply what she had learned, before the inevitable occured? Mr. Bester wasn't very happy with her at the moment, and from her studies, she knew that those who displeased Mr. Bester tended to disappear.
Rather permanently.
She shook her head half-despairingly at that thought a moment later, however; was she seeing shadows where there weren't any? While the mistakes she'd made had been serious ones, was there a way to make up for them? A way to show Mr. Bester that she still deserved to stand at his side?
Sheynell rose to her feet, and turned her back on the patterns of chaos and order in the sands, now deep in thought...as a strange tickling sensation touched her mind for a moment, faded away, and was ignored. It would be tricky; but there had to be a way of salvaging some small victory from this visit to Babylon 5.
She would just have to figure out what would do the trick...
Her eyes widened then, however, as the tickling psi-annoyance grew in strength until it could no longer be ignored. It was akin to something she remembered from more then ten years in the past; an annoyance inflicted upon her during a game she'd been playing with her fellow cadre telepaths. She compared the experiences, and to her astonishment, found them to be identical.
Someone was spying on her!...from the feel of it a somewhat weaker telepath who didn't believe she'd noticed him yet. Her eyes narrowed; something was going on here, and it paid to find out what. Especially...
The breath caught in her lungs; especially if the telepath spying on her was a rogue!
She knew what she had to do now, knew it in her bones. Closing her eyes, Sheynell quickly and efficiently raised her blocks as high as they would go (which wasn't as high as usual, given the strain that Mr. Ferris had imposed upon her mind a short time before) and cleared the station's transient background noise from her senses, dampening the clutter down until only her 'shadow' remained. Then, after taking a moment to pull together a hopefully effective plan, she 'cast a glyph towards the other mind; an image of herself sitting pensively on the nearby bench...and slowly began to make her way towards him.
He was out in the Garden, of course, concealed behind a low stand of bushes in the near distance. And while she'd read the strictures about not stepping on the grass in this place, her opponent had ignored them to reach his place of hiding, hadn't he?...there was therefore precedent for doing the same.
Swinging around behind him, all the while maintaining the lonely despondent echo-image back in the Zen Garden, Sheynell allowed herself to smile as the last few feet shrank away. Her dark-haired watcher was maintaining his steady gaze; he was buying it!...the rogue was actually buying her ruse.
Which wasn't surprising, since as far as she could tell, he wasn't more then about a P5 or P6, in terms of psi abilities.
Maybe it was time to put the lesson Mr. Ferris had taught her to good use, she mentally added, as the end of the admittedly simple hunt arrived. She certainly needed to find out what this rogue was up to; why he'd been watching her, and, most importantly...
Who he answered to. Her smile now vicious, Sheynell paused for a moment to prepare her attack, and then, like a viper...
She struck.
****************
Pain. Unbelievable pain was what he felt. And it had all happened so quickly...
Slowly, agonizingly and against his will, Dubois turned his head to behold the triumphant expression on the face of Bester's aide, that barely more then adolescent opponent he'd been sent here to watch; that same servant of the Corps who now stood only about six feet behind him, holding the equivalent of a telepathic dagger to his head. How had she do