Kansas 2 - The Yellow Brick Road, Part 23
Title: Kansas 2 - The Yellow Brick Road
Author: Soledad
Author’s notes: For disclaimer, rating, etc., see the secondary index page.
Some of the dialogue is quoted from the episode “Shadow Dancing”, swapped around between characters with slight modifications. The medical babble about Tuvok’s condition is taken from the episode “Flashback”, with the necessary modifications.
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
PART 23 - 18 December 2260
One day later Sheridan called Delenn, Ivanova and Neroon to his office to discuss the current situation with them. Out of courtesy he had extended the invitation to Janeway as well, but she sent Chakotay in her stead; a solution that everyone welcomed.
Including Chakotay, who preferred to keep a close eye on possible future events.
“I've been giving a lot of thought to Garibaldi's question,” Sheridan began thoughtfully. “We have done all we can to keep a low profile. But the enemy has just taken a big loss…”
“And they've got to know we're responsible,” Ivanova added grimly. “Now it's only a matter of time before they come after us.”
Neroon nodded in agreement. “The only questions are how and when.”
“Perhaps they're reluctant to try,” Delenn offered. “Draal has made the Great Machine on the planet below available to our defence. I suspect his weapons could stop even a Shadow vessel.”
“Perhaps; but can they stop an entire Shadow attack fleet?” Neroon asked. “The Book of Valen states that the Sher’shok Dum had ships huge enough to destroy whole planets; and they did not hesitate to use them during the last great war. Would the Great Machine, whatever it might be, have a chance against those?”
“I honestly don’t know,” Delenn admitted. “Draal was never forthcoming about such details.”
“Are we talking about the guardian of the powerful alien device that may or may not be able to help Voyager getting back to our own universe?” Chakotay asked with deceptive mildness. “Because we were told that he needed to rest and recover after some great effort; which was supposedly the reason why we could not contact him and ask him for help.”
“And it was true at the time of your arrival,” Ivanova replied. “I spoke to his… assistant myself and was denied direct contact with him. However, I wasn’t told either that he’d have recovered in the meantime,” she added, with an accusing glance in Delenn’s direction.
“It is a recent development,” the Minbari ambassador answered. “It was less than a day ago that Draal contacted me and offered his assistance. I am sorry, Commander, but right now the Great Machine is urgently needed to protect Babylon 5.”
“I understand that,” Chakotay said. “And I’m sure Captain Janeway will understand it, too. However, we would both prefer to be told the truth - the whole truth - where such important factors are concerned. Otherwise, there is no point.”
“Minbari do not lie, Commander,” Neroon reminded him in mock offence.
Chakotay rolled his eyes. “Yeah, they say the same thing about Vulcans; and yet the guys manage to work around that statement - and around the truth - and lead you on a merry journey within their so-called defined parameters, without you being the wiser.”
“Well,” Ivanova said, “I can promise you as one executive officer to another that I’ll give you every detail I’m aware of; not that that would be much at the moment. And what I do know doesn’t make sense. I mean, the Shadows could have hit us at any time during the last year. We're a sitting duck!”
“So what are you saying?” Sheridan asked. “They're deliberately leaving us alone?”
Ivanova shrugged. “Well, it's possible. I mean, they haven't exactly been shy about hitting anybody else around here.”
“And if that's true,” Neroon said slowly, “the obvious question is: why?”
“Could it not be the same tactic they used by leaving Sector 83 alone?” Chakotay asked. “To create a zone of false safety and when people flee here, hit them unexpected and twice as hard?”
“It is possible, of course,” Sheridan allowed. “But for some reason I can’t explain I have the feeling that there’s more.”
“How so?” Ivanova asked.
Sheridan closed his eyes and rubbed his temple as if having a sudden headache. “I'm not sure. Ever since Kosh died - I mean the original one, the first Vorlon ambassador to Babylon 5,” he added for Chakotay's sake, “I've been remembering a dream.”
“About Kosh?”
“Yes and no. Last year, when I was hurt, he got inside my head. He spoke to me, sent me these… images. One of them was you, saying, 'Do you know who I am?' A week later, you tell me you're a latent telepath!”
“Actually, it was a good three or four months later,” Ivanova corrected. “At the time when Thalia…” she broke off, visibly fighting for control.
“That may be,” Sheridan admitted. “My memory is a bit fuzzy when I think back at those days. But I do remember you saying that you sometimes don't know who you are.”
“Is it possible that Kosh knew?” Delenn asked.
“I don't see how, but the image fits,” Ivanova shrugged. “Do you remember anything else, Captain?”
“No, just fragments,” Sheridan searched his memory. “Oh, at one point, I was wearing the uniform of a Psi Cop.”
“Well, we're working with Bester now, and that was unexpected,” Ivanova pointed out. “Anything else?”
“Something really odd, “Sheridan laughed humourlessly. “He sent me an image of Garibaldi, saying: 'The man in-between is searching for you'.”
“He could have meant Sinclair,” Ivanova suggested.
“Maybe,” Sheridan said reluctantly, “but I don't think so. Somehow it doesn't feel right.”
“It could have been a warning, too,” Neroon offered.
“Warning of what?” Sheridan asked in surprise.
“Well,” Neroon said thoughtfully, “Rastenn told me about this Shadow agent: the human named Morden who showed up on the station time and again, asking people what they wanted. Could he be the one after you?”
“I suppose it’s possible,” Sheridan said. “After all, he was the one - or rather the Shadows accompanying him - who killed the original Kosh.”
“He hasn’t been seen on the station for a while, though,” Neroon said.
“That doesn’t mean the captain couldn’t be found and captured outside the station,” Chakotay said. “You do regularly go out on fight practice with the Starfury squadrons, don’t you?”
Sheridan shook his head. “I really don’t think they’d risk showing up near Babylon 5, just to snatch me.”
“There are other ways to lure you away from the station,” Neroon said. “If I were you, I would be very careful, Captain. Just in case it was a warning indeed.”
“Well, if that’s what it is, then the man in-between knows who you are, now that we’ve kicked them hard and where it hurts,” Ivanova said.
“Assuming it means anything!” Sheridan ran his hand through his hair in frustration. “Signs, portents, dreams! Next we’ll be reading tea leaves and chicken entrails.”
“Hopefully not,” Chakotay said way too seriously to actually mean it. “I’d rather suggest a spirit walk, if you’re inclined to use spiritual means to see a possible future.”
“Thanks but no, thanks,” Sheridan replied dryly. “I already do know that we’re vulnerable now. I’ll have squadrons on flyby at all times from now on. We should expect something to be coming our way sooner or later; and the way our luck works, it will probably be sooner.”
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
“Do you think we should keep Voyager on yellow alert, just in case,” Janeway asked, after Chakotay had summarised for her the meeting with Sheridan.
Chakotay nodded. “It would seem prudent; especially with Tuvok out of the equation. And that’s another thing I wanted to discuss with you, Captain: we need to replace Tuvok as tactical officer while he’s incapacitated.”
“Agreed we can’t know how long it will take for this dubious Mr. Bester to show up; assuming he is ready or able to help Tuvok. Do you have a suggestion?”
“Lieutenant Rollins,” Chakotay said without hesitation.
Janeway gave him a surprised look. “I thought you’d suggest Lieutenant Ayala.”
Chakotay shook his head. “Greg is the right man for internal security; or tight dogfights. But Lieutenant Rollins has the proper Starfleet training for battle situations and knows the ship’s systems better.”
“I thought you didn’t like Rollins,” Janeway confessed. “You’re always fair and civil with him, but I had the feeling that you didn’t like him.”
“I don’t,” Chakotay admitted. “His attitude sets my teeth to the edge. But that doesn’t mean I wouldn’t appreciate his abilities. We might disagree about a number of things, Captain, but it doesn’t mean I’m his enemy… or yours. I hoped you’d have realised that by now. Apparently, I was wrong.”
“No, that’s not true!” Janeway protested. “I don’t see you as an enemy. It’s just so that I sometimes can’t understand why do you things the way you do… and those occasions seem to be multiplying lately.”
“You mean why I act in disregard for Starfleet regulations?” Chakotay clarified.
Janeway nodded. “I can understand why the other Maquis act like that. They never went to the Academy… well, with the exception of B’Elanna, and she flew out before graduating. But you… you taught at the Academy! You were on the best way to get your own command, and that wouldn’t have been just some insignificant patrol ship! You were selected as the captain of an Excelsior class vessel, did you know that?”
Chakotay smiled; a little sadly. “Yes, Admiral Shanthi told me when I handed in my resignation. She thought it would make me change my mind.”
“Obviously, it didn’t.”
“No. My people needed me. There was no-one left to protect them after my father’s death by the hand of the Cardassians. None of my brothers were born to lead, not even the ones older than me. And as soon as I returned home, I was faced with the fact that in some cases Starfleet regulations just don’t work, no matter how noble and idealistic they might be.”
“And you think this is one of those cases,” Janeway said, clearly not convinced.
Chakotay nodded. “I do. And I hope that you, too, accept that truth soon, Captain. Otherwise we don’t have a rat’s chance to survive in this reality.” He stood. “If you’ll excuse me, I’m expected in Sickbay. The Doctor has already sent me four messages, each one more impatient than the previous one - he says I’m late for my regular check-up.”
“Go. We can’t afford another senior officer going down right now. But I’ll need the new duty roster as soon as you can finish it.”
“It will be on your desk by 18:00, Captain. Together with the plans for the farewell ceremony of our fallen heroes.”
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
Lillian Hobbs was more than a little surprised - well shocked would have been a more fitting word for it - to find Franklin sitting at his desk in the head doctor’s office; an office that had been de facto hers in the recent weeks.
Franklin was still wearing his civilian clothes but behaved as if he had taken over the MedLabs already. Which, considering that he was still listed as a patient, barely out of critical care himself, annoyed the living daylight out of Lillian.
“I thought he wouldn't be up and about for a while yet,” she said to Maya Hernandez who had just arrived to join the staff meeting - a meeting Lillian was supposed to hold.
The older doctor shrugged. “He is not. Won't be for a few days, either. His legs are still a little wobbly and he can only stand for a few minutes.”
“What is he doing down here then?” Lillian asked. She had entrusted Franklin’s case to Maya, as she had felt she was still too angry with him to be objective.
“He doesn’t need to stand to talk advice and generally make a pain in the ass of himself,” Hernandez returned dryly.
For a moment they stood outside the office, listening to Franklin who, despite sitting in a wheelchair, sounded very much like his old self.
“All right, we're still short on Minbari blood, type R-negative,” he was saying. “Nadia, I want you to check with Ambassador Delenn see if you can organize more blood donors. Synthetics aren't cutting it.”
“Yes, Doctor,” the female med tech thusly addressed hurried of to carry out his orders, giving Lillian an apologetic look on her way out.
“Now, the rest of you, we've got trauma cases overloading MedLabs Two and Five,” Franklin continued, aiming his words at Doctors Croyokin, Gonzalez and Harrison. “Get down there; see if you can move non-critical patients into other quarters on a temporary basis. Take over the Rotunda and the sanctuary if you have to. Now go on.”
Croyokin and Harrison did as they were told. Anne Gonzalez, however, seemed less than willing to accept the return of the old regime without being debriefed.
“Do you have the authorization for taking such measures?” she asked. “We were not informed that you’d take over again.”
Franklin looked for a moment as if he’d been slapped; then he pulled himself together with some effort. “Look, I know it's unofficial, but I thought you guys could use all the help you can get.”
“That we could,” Gonzalez admitted. “We’re every bit as understaffed and overworked as we were when you up and left on your self-searching quest.”
Franklin frowned. “What is your problem? I only want to help!”
“And we appreciate the sentiment,” Gonzalez replied. “Or we would, if you wouldn’t start helping us by undermining the authority of the one who’s been doing your job next to her own since you left. Well, if you’ll excuse me, I’m expected in MedLab Two, where I’ve been assigned by my official superior.”
She turned around and left the office with a still mildly shocked Franklin behind.
“Is it still unofficial?” Lillian asked quietly. “Because it doesn’t look like that, does it?”
“Not for long, even if it is,” Hernandez pulled a face. “Captain Sheridan came down to see him and offered him his job back, should he still want it.”
“And? What did he say?”
There could be little doubt, but Lillian wanted to hear it.
“What do you think he said?” Hernandez asked back, her voice heavy with sarcasm. “He couldn’t take the offer fast enough. He said he could do better now that he can define himself by what he is, instead of what he’s not.”
“So, what is he, according to himself?” Lillian asked; the whole thing sounded convulted to her.
“Alive,” Hernandez replied dryly. “Everything else is negotiable, apparently.”
“Well, it is,” Lillian said. “He’s negotiated himself back into his old position with minimal effort.”
“And he knows it, too,” Hernandez added, watching Franklin wheel himself across the room to give one of the female med techs a thorough dressing down.
“Now, where on Earth did you learn to hold a cauterizer like that?” he demanded. “Let me show you how to do this!”
“Just like in old times,” Lillian commented. “Maternity leave suddenly seems very appealing.”
“When do you intend to stop working?” Hernandez asked.
“I’m not sure,” Lillian said. “I mean, I’m not even showing yet, and I’m one hundred per cent healthy. It’s not my style to abandon my work and my colleagues like somebody we won’t name right now.”
“You’re absolutely sure then that you want to have the baby?” Hernandez never really doubted it, not even at the times when Lillian had, but this was the first time Lillian would make an actual statement.
Lillian nodded. “There were moments of doubt, I admit, but in the end… he might be all I’ll have left from Chakotay, should they find a way home. Or should something happen to Chakotay, as it almost happened not so long ago. It might be selfish, but I want to keep at least his much.”
“You’ve checked the gender, then?”
“I have. It’s a boy; a healthy little boy. The holographic doctor of Voyager showed me a much better image than our own equipment could. Imagine that: they can even extrapolate the looks of the baby! He’ll have brown eyes; but that’s not surprising as we’re both brown-eyed.”
“Have you told Chakotay?” Hernandez asked.
“Not yet,” Lillian admitted sheepishly.
“Lillian, you must!”
“I know, I know, and I will! It’s just… the time never seemed right. First he spent days at death’s door, and then unconscious in that horrible reg gel; then he up and left to go to battle with Neroon, of all people!”
“Muchacha,” Hernandez said patiently. “There’s no such thing as the right time. You must tell him now, while you still have the time; or you might spend the rest of your life mourning over lost chances.”
“I know,” Lillian sighed, “and I will, I promise. Now, let’s get back to work before our new-old boss gives us, too, a tongue-lashing.”
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
Sergeant Zack Allan liked night shift at Customs. Granted, even in the early morning there were ships coming and going to and from Babylon 5, but as the station went by Earth standard schedule, early mornings were still a great deal quieter than, say during daytime.
As it was his wont, he stayed in the background, leaving it to the guards - one human and one Narn - to check the identicards of incoming travellers. He liked to watch the flow of visitors unobtrusively, making mental notes for Garibaldi about anything that seemed unusual.
Tonight it appeared to be the usual crowd. Worker Caste Minbari on some business trip; Narn refugees on their way to join G’Kar’s followers; numerous Drazi, Brakiri and Gaim; the inevitable Pak’ma’ra, whom everybody else gave a wide berth for olfactory reasons (to use a polite term for the fact that they generally smelled really bad), Centauri businesspeople (or spies, the two of which often meant the same, and even a few humans, mostly from the outlaying colonies.
Visitors from Earth had become increasingly rare lately. At least those who would come openly and with good intentions.
The small flow of late arrivals had almost passed Customs by now. The last one, a pretty human woman with shoulder-length dark blonde hair, stepped to the human guard and handed him her identicard. The guard scanned the card, then nodded and passed the traveller through.
When the black-clad woman was out of earshot, through, the guard called Zack to his terminal.
“Sergeant, I think we might have a problem,” he said.
“Was the identicard fake?” Zack asked. “Why did you pass her through, then?”
“The identicard is genuine; at least the scanner couldn’t find anything wrong with it,” the guard replied slowly.
“So what is the problem?”
“The problem is if it is indeed genuine,” the guard turned the viewscreen with the enlarged image of the identicard so that Zack could see it. “See this?”
Zack glanced at the viewscreen and became dizzy with concern at once. Holy shit, but the guard was right! If this identicard was genuine, then they had a serious problem indeed.
Or, at least, Sheridan had.
“Commander Ivanova must learn about this,” he decided. “I’ll give her a call; you’ll try to track this woman down. We need to know where she’s going.”
“I’d say the logical choice would be the captain’s quarters,” the guard muttered.
“Exactly what I’m afraid of,” Zack replied.
It wasn’t exactly common knowledge, but as Garibaldi’s second-in-command he stood close enough to the command staff to know that the captain and Ambassador Delenn were engaging in some kind of obscure Minbari ritual right now. A courting ritual, obviously; and the newcomer dropping right into the middle of it could lead to a disaster of epic proportions.
Zack didn’t feel up to face a situation like that on his own. He needed backup to deal with the possible fall-our; even if it meant to wake up Ivanova, which wasn’t entirely without risk, either. But that was still the lesser evil.
Activating his comm patch, he called Ivanova’s quarters.
“Commander, just thought you oughta know, we just had somebody come on board,” he said without preamble.
“Zack, this is a space station,” she replied wearily. “We get fifty ships a day. There’s always somebody coming on board!”
“Yeah, but this is major!” Zack tried to find the right words without giving away too much on an open channel. “It concerns the captain; and it ain’t good!”
There was a pause on the other end of the connection. Then Ivanova asked, sounding widely awake again.
“Well, who is it?”
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
In Voyager’s Sickbay Kes was sitting at the cryogenic tube in which the Doctor had decided to put Tuvok for the time being. The Vulcan’s condition had been worsening dramatically; and this seemed the only way to stop his deterioration until the arrival of the human telepath who might or might not be able to help him.
There was no true reason for Kes to sit with him. He was clinically dead, so that his tortured mind would stop destroying itself, at least for now. Perhaps Kes could touch him, even so; perhaps not. But trying to do so might have woken him up, and that would have been dangerous in his current state.
So no, sitting with him had no real purpose. But it helped Kes to regain her own inner balance. Even in this state, Tuvok served as her anchor, as her rock in the storm. She needed him to keep her firmly rooted in this corporeal life, until her metamorphosis was completed and she could break free from her restricting physical form.
Part of her regretted that soon she would have to leave behind everyone she had come to know and love. But only a very small part. The greater part of her was looking forward to the final change; to the great journey no Ocampa had been able to set off to, ever since the Caretaker’s arrival.
Infinity was unfolding before her mind’s eye, like a gleaming path that led to the borders of the known universe… and beyond.
Author: Soledad
Author’s notes: For disclaimer, rating, etc., see the secondary index page.
Some of the dialogue is quoted from the episode “Shadow Dancing”, swapped around between characters with slight modifications. The medical babble about Tuvok’s condition is taken from the episode “Flashback”, with the necessary modifications.
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
PART 23 - 18 December 2260
One day later Sheridan called Delenn, Ivanova and Neroon to his office to discuss the current situation with them. Out of courtesy he had extended the invitation to Janeway as well, but she sent Chakotay in her stead; a solution that everyone welcomed.
Including Chakotay, who preferred to keep a close eye on possible future events.
“I've been giving a lot of thought to Garibaldi's question,” Sheridan began thoughtfully. “We have done all we can to keep a low profile. But the enemy has just taken a big loss…”
“And they've got to know we're responsible,” Ivanova added grimly. “Now it's only a matter of time before they come after us.”
Neroon nodded in agreement. “The only questions are how and when.”
“Perhaps they're reluctant to try,” Delenn offered. “Draal has made the Great Machine on the planet below available to our defence. I suspect his weapons could stop even a Shadow vessel.”
“Perhaps; but can they stop an entire Shadow attack fleet?” Neroon asked. “The Book of Valen states that the Sher’shok Dum had ships huge enough to destroy whole planets; and they did not hesitate to use them during the last great war. Would the Great Machine, whatever it might be, have a chance against those?”
“I honestly don’t know,” Delenn admitted. “Draal was never forthcoming about such details.”
“Are we talking about the guardian of the powerful alien device that may or may not be able to help Voyager getting back to our own universe?” Chakotay asked with deceptive mildness. “Because we were told that he needed to rest and recover after some great effort; which was supposedly the reason why we could not contact him and ask him for help.”
“And it was true at the time of your arrival,” Ivanova replied. “I spoke to his… assistant myself and was denied direct contact with him. However, I wasn’t told either that he’d have recovered in the meantime,” she added, with an accusing glance in Delenn’s direction.
“It is a recent development,” the Minbari ambassador answered. “It was less than a day ago that Draal contacted me and offered his assistance. I am sorry, Commander, but right now the Great Machine is urgently needed to protect Babylon 5.”
“I understand that,” Chakotay said. “And I’m sure Captain Janeway will understand it, too. However, we would both prefer to be told the truth - the whole truth - where such important factors are concerned. Otherwise, there is no point.”
“Minbari do not lie, Commander,” Neroon reminded him in mock offence.
Chakotay rolled his eyes. “Yeah, they say the same thing about Vulcans; and yet the guys manage to work around that statement - and around the truth - and lead you on a merry journey within their so-called defined parameters, without you being the wiser.”
“Well,” Ivanova said, “I can promise you as one executive officer to another that I’ll give you every detail I’m aware of; not that that would be much at the moment. And what I do know doesn’t make sense. I mean, the Shadows could have hit us at any time during the last year. We're a sitting duck!”
“So what are you saying?” Sheridan asked. “They're deliberately leaving us alone?”
Ivanova shrugged. “Well, it's possible. I mean, they haven't exactly been shy about hitting anybody else around here.”
“And if that's true,” Neroon said slowly, “the obvious question is: why?”
“Could it not be the same tactic they used by leaving Sector 83 alone?” Chakotay asked. “To create a zone of false safety and when people flee here, hit them unexpected and twice as hard?”
“It is possible, of course,” Sheridan allowed. “But for some reason I can’t explain I have the feeling that there’s more.”
“How so?” Ivanova asked.
Sheridan closed his eyes and rubbed his temple as if having a sudden headache. “I'm not sure. Ever since Kosh died - I mean the original one, the first Vorlon ambassador to Babylon 5,” he added for Chakotay's sake, “I've been remembering a dream.”
“About Kosh?”
“Yes and no. Last year, when I was hurt, he got inside my head. He spoke to me, sent me these… images. One of them was you, saying, 'Do you know who I am?' A week later, you tell me you're a latent telepath!”
“Actually, it was a good three or four months later,” Ivanova corrected. “At the time when Thalia…” she broke off, visibly fighting for control.
“That may be,” Sheridan admitted. “My memory is a bit fuzzy when I think back at those days. But I do remember you saying that you sometimes don't know who you are.”
“Is it possible that Kosh knew?” Delenn asked.
“I don't see how, but the image fits,” Ivanova shrugged. “Do you remember anything else, Captain?”
“No, just fragments,” Sheridan searched his memory. “Oh, at one point, I was wearing the uniform of a Psi Cop.”
“Well, we're working with Bester now, and that was unexpected,” Ivanova pointed out. “Anything else?”
“Something really odd, “Sheridan laughed humourlessly. “He sent me an image of Garibaldi, saying: 'The man in-between is searching for you'.”
“He could have meant Sinclair,” Ivanova suggested.
“Maybe,” Sheridan said reluctantly, “but I don't think so. Somehow it doesn't feel right.”
“It could have been a warning, too,” Neroon offered.
“Warning of what?” Sheridan asked in surprise.
“Well,” Neroon said thoughtfully, “Rastenn told me about this Shadow agent: the human named Morden who showed up on the station time and again, asking people what they wanted. Could he be the one after you?”
“I suppose it’s possible,” Sheridan said. “After all, he was the one - or rather the Shadows accompanying him - who killed the original Kosh.”
“He hasn’t been seen on the station for a while, though,” Neroon said.
“That doesn’t mean the captain couldn’t be found and captured outside the station,” Chakotay said. “You do regularly go out on fight practice with the Starfury squadrons, don’t you?”
Sheridan shook his head. “I really don’t think they’d risk showing up near Babylon 5, just to snatch me.”
“There are other ways to lure you away from the station,” Neroon said. “If I were you, I would be very careful, Captain. Just in case it was a warning indeed.”
“Well, if that’s what it is, then the man in-between knows who you are, now that we’ve kicked them hard and where it hurts,” Ivanova said.
“Assuming it means anything!” Sheridan ran his hand through his hair in frustration. “Signs, portents, dreams! Next we’ll be reading tea leaves and chicken entrails.”
“Hopefully not,” Chakotay said way too seriously to actually mean it. “I’d rather suggest a spirit walk, if you’re inclined to use spiritual means to see a possible future.”
“Thanks but no, thanks,” Sheridan replied dryly. “I already do know that we’re vulnerable now. I’ll have squadrons on flyby at all times from now on. We should expect something to be coming our way sooner or later; and the way our luck works, it will probably be sooner.”
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
“Do you think we should keep Voyager on yellow alert, just in case,” Janeway asked, after Chakotay had summarised for her the meeting with Sheridan.
Chakotay nodded. “It would seem prudent; especially with Tuvok out of the equation. And that’s another thing I wanted to discuss with you, Captain: we need to replace Tuvok as tactical officer while he’s incapacitated.”
“Agreed we can’t know how long it will take for this dubious Mr. Bester to show up; assuming he is ready or able to help Tuvok. Do you have a suggestion?”
“Lieutenant Rollins,” Chakotay said without hesitation.
Janeway gave him a surprised look. “I thought you’d suggest Lieutenant Ayala.”
Chakotay shook his head. “Greg is the right man for internal security; or tight dogfights. But Lieutenant Rollins has the proper Starfleet training for battle situations and knows the ship’s systems better.”
“I thought you didn’t like Rollins,” Janeway confessed. “You’re always fair and civil with him, but I had the feeling that you didn’t like him.”
“I don’t,” Chakotay admitted. “His attitude sets my teeth to the edge. But that doesn’t mean I wouldn’t appreciate his abilities. We might disagree about a number of things, Captain, but it doesn’t mean I’m his enemy… or yours. I hoped you’d have realised that by now. Apparently, I was wrong.”
“No, that’s not true!” Janeway protested. “I don’t see you as an enemy. It’s just so that I sometimes can’t understand why do you things the way you do… and those occasions seem to be multiplying lately.”
“You mean why I act in disregard for Starfleet regulations?” Chakotay clarified.
Janeway nodded. “I can understand why the other Maquis act like that. They never went to the Academy… well, with the exception of B’Elanna, and she flew out before graduating. But you… you taught at the Academy! You were on the best way to get your own command, and that wouldn’t have been just some insignificant patrol ship! You were selected as the captain of an Excelsior class vessel, did you know that?”
Chakotay smiled; a little sadly. “Yes, Admiral Shanthi told me when I handed in my resignation. She thought it would make me change my mind.”
“Obviously, it didn’t.”
“No. My people needed me. There was no-one left to protect them after my father’s death by the hand of the Cardassians. None of my brothers were born to lead, not even the ones older than me. And as soon as I returned home, I was faced with the fact that in some cases Starfleet regulations just don’t work, no matter how noble and idealistic they might be.”
“And you think this is one of those cases,” Janeway said, clearly not convinced.
Chakotay nodded. “I do. And I hope that you, too, accept that truth soon, Captain. Otherwise we don’t have a rat’s chance to survive in this reality.” He stood. “If you’ll excuse me, I’m expected in Sickbay. The Doctor has already sent me four messages, each one more impatient than the previous one - he says I’m late for my regular check-up.”
“Go. We can’t afford another senior officer going down right now. But I’ll need the new duty roster as soon as you can finish it.”
“It will be on your desk by 18:00, Captain. Together with the plans for the farewell ceremony of our fallen heroes.”
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
Lillian Hobbs was more than a little surprised - well shocked would have been a more fitting word for it - to find Franklin sitting at his desk in the head doctor’s office; an office that had been de facto hers in the recent weeks.
Franklin was still wearing his civilian clothes but behaved as if he had taken over the MedLabs already. Which, considering that he was still listed as a patient, barely out of critical care himself, annoyed the living daylight out of Lillian.
“I thought he wouldn't be up and about for a while yet,” she said to Maya Hernandez who had just arrived to join the staff meeting - a meeting Lillian was supposed to hold.
The older doctor shrugged. “He is not. Won't be for a few days, either. His legs are still a little wobbly and he can only stand for a few minutes.”
“What is he doing down here then?” Lillian asked. She had entrusted Franklin’s case to Maya, as she had felt she was still too angry with him to be objective.
“He doesn’t need to stand to talk advice and generally make a pain in the ass of himself,” Hernandez returned dryly.
For a moment they stood outside the office, listening to Franklin who, despite sitting in a wheelchair, sounded very much like his old self.
“All right, we're still short on Minbari blood, type R-negative,” he was saying. “Nadia, I want you to check with Ambassador Delenn see if you can organize more blood donors. Synthetics aren't cutting it.”
“Yes, Doctor,” the female med tech thusly addressed hurried of to carry out his orders, giving Lillian an apologetic look on her way out.
“Now, the rest of you, we've got trauma cases overloading MedLabs Two and Five,” Franklin continued, aiming his words at Doctors Croyokin, Gonzalez and Harrison. “Get down there; see if you can move non-critical patients into other quarters on a temporary basis. Take over the Rotunda and the sanctuary if you have to. Now go on.”
Croyokin and Harrison did as they were told. Anne Gonzalez, however, seemed less than willing to accept the return of the old regime without being debriefed.
“Do you have the authorization for taking such measures?” she asked. “We were not informed that you’d take over again.”
Franklin looked for a moment as if he’d been slapped; then he pulled himself together with some effort. “Look, I know it's unofficial, but I thought you guys could use all the help you can get.”
“That we could,” Gonzalez admitted. “We’re every bit as understaffed and overworked as we were when you up and left on your self-searching quest.”
Franklin frowned. “What is your problem? I only want to help!”
“And we appreciate the sentiment,” Gonzalez replied. “Or we would, if you wouldn’t start helping us by undermining the authority of the one who’s been doing your job next to her own since you left. Well, if you’ll excuse me, I’m expected in MedLab Two, where I’ve been assigned by my official superior.”
She turned around and left the office with a still mildly shocked Franklin behind.
“Is it still unofficial?” Lillian asked quietly. “Because it doesn’t look like that, does it?”
“Not for long, even if it is,” Hernandez pulled a face. “Captain Sheridan came down to see him and offered him his job back, should he still want it.”
“And? What did he say?”
There could be little doubt, but Lillian wanted to hear it.
“What do you think he said?” Hernandez asked back, her voice heavy with sarcasm. “He couldn’t take the offer fast enough. He said he could do better now that he can define himself by what he is, instead of what he’s not.”
“So, what is he, according to himself?” Lillian asked; the whole thing sounded convulted to her.
“Alive,” Hernandez replied dryly. “Everything else is negotiable, apparently.”
“Well, it is,” Lillian said. “He’s negotiated himself back into his old position with minimal effort.”
“And he knows it, too,” Hernandez added, watching Franklin wheel himself across the room to give one of the female med techs a thorough dressing down.
“Now, where on Earth did you learn to hold a cauterizer like that?” he demanded. “Let me show you how to do this!”
“Just like in old times,” Lillian commented. “Maternity leave suddenly seems very appealing.”
“When do you intend to stop working?” Hernandez asked.
“I’m not sure,” Lillian said. “I mean, I’m not even showing yet, and I’m one hundred per cent healthy. It’s not my style to abandon my work and my colleagues like somebody we won’t name right now.”
“You’re absolutely sure then that you want to have the baby?” Hernandez never really doubted it, not even at the times when Lillian had, but this was the first time Lillian would make an actual statement.
Lillian nodded. “There were moments of doubt, I admit, but in the end… he might be all I’ll have left from Chakotay, should they find a way home. Or should something happen to Chakotay, as it almost happened not so long ago. It might be selfish, but I want to keep at least his much.”
“You’ve checked the gender, then?”
“I have. It’s a boy; a healthy little boy. The holographic doctor of Voyager showed me a much better image than our own equipment could. Imagine that: they can even extrapolate the looks of the baby! He’ll have brown eyes; but that’s not surprising as we’re both brown-eyed.”
“Have you told Chakotay?” Hernandez asked.
“Not yet,” Lillian admitted sheepishly.
“Lillian, you must!”
“I know, I know, and I will! It’s just… the time never seemed right. First he spent days at death’s door, and then unconscious in that horrible reg gel; then he up and left to go to battle with Neroon, of all people!”
“Muchacha,” Hernandez said patiently. “There’s no such thing as the right time. You must tell him now, while you still have the time; or you might spend the rest of your life mourning over lost chances.”
“I know,” Lillian sighed, “and I will, I promise. Now, let’s get back to work before our new-old boss gives us, too, a tongue-lashing.”
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
Sergeant Zack Allan liked night shift at Customs. Granted, even in the early morning there were ships coming and going to and from Babylon 5, but as the station went by Earth standard schedule, early mornings were still a great deal quieter than, say during daytime.
As it was his wont, he stayed in the background, leaving it to the guards - one human and one Narn - to check the identicards of incoming travellers. He liked to watch the flow of visitors unobtrusively, making mental notes for Garibaldi about anything that seemed unusual.
Tonight it appeared to be the usual crowd. Worker Caste Minbari on some business trip; Narn refugees on their way to join G’Kar’s followers; numerous Drazi, Brakiri and Gaim; the inevitable Pak’ma’ra, whom everybody else gave a wide berth for olfactory reasons (to use a polite term for the fact that they generally smelled really bad), Centauri businesspeople (or spies, the two of which often meant the same, and even a few humans, mostly from the outlaying colonies.
Visitors from Earth had become increasingly rare lately. At least those who would come openly and with good intentions.
The small flow of late arrivals had almost passed Customs by now. The last one, a pretty human woman with shoulder-length dark blonde hair, stepped to the human guard and handed him her identicard. The guard scanned the card, then nodded and passed the traveller through.
When the black-clad woman was out of earshot, through, the guard called Zack to his terminal.
“Sergeant, I think we might have a problem,” he said.
“Was the identicard fake?” Zack asked. “Why did you pass her through, then?”
“The identicard is genuine; at least the scanner couldn’t find anything wrong with it,” the guard replied slowly.
“So what is the problem?”
“The problem is if it is indeed genuine,” the guard turned the viewscreen with the enlarged image of the identicard so that Zack could see it. “See this?”
Zack glanced at the viewscreen and became dizzy with concern at once. Holy shit, but the guard was right! If this identicard was genuine, then they had a serious problem indeed.
Or, at least, Sheridan had.
“Commander Ivanova must learn about this,” he decided. “I’ll give her a call; you’ll try to track this woman down. We need to know where she’s going.”
“I’d say the logical choice would be the captain’s quarters,” the guard muttered.
“Exactly what I’m afraid of,” Zack replied.
It wasn’t exactly common knowledge, but as Garibaldi’s second-in-command he stood close enough to the command staff to know that the captain and Ambassador Delenn were engaging in some kind of obscure Minbari ritual right now. A courting ritual, obviously; and the newcomer dropping right into the middle of it could lead to a disaster of epic proportions.
Zack didn’t feel up to face a situation like that on his own. He needed backup to deal with the possible fall-our; even if it meant to wake up Ivanova, which wasn’t entirely without risk, either. But that was still the lesser evil.
Activating his comm patch, he called Ivanova’s quarters.
“Commander, just thought you oughta know, we just had somebody come on board,” he said without preamble.
“Zack, this is a space station,” she replied wearily. “We get fifty ships a day. There’s always somebody coming on board!”
“Yeah, but this is major!” Zack tried to find the right words without giving away too much on an open channel. “It concerns the captain; and it ain’t good!”
There was a pause on the other end of the connection. Then Ivanova asked, sounding widely awake again.
“Well, who is it?”
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
In Voyager’s Sickbay Kes was sitting at the cryogenic tube in which the Doctor had decided to put Tuvok for the time being. The Vulcan’s condition had been worsening dramatically; and this seemed the only way to stop his deterioration until the arrival of the human telepath who might or might not be able to help him.
There was no true reason for Kes to sit with him. He was clinically dead, so that his tortured mind would stop destroying itself, at least for now. Perhaps Kes could touch him, even so; perhaps not. But trying to do so might have woken him up, and that would have been dangerous in his current state.
So no, sitting with him had no real purpose. But it helped Kes to regain her own inner balance. Even in this state, Tuvok served as her anchor, as her rock in the storm. She needed him to keep her firmly rooted in this corporeal life, until her metamorphosis was completed and she could break free from her restricting physical form.
Part of her regretted that soon she would have to leave behind everyone she had come to know and love. But only a very small part. The greater part of her was looking forward to the final change; to the great journey no Ocampa had been able to set off to, ever since the Caretaker’s arrival.
Infinity was unfolding before her mind’s eye, like a gleaming path that led to the borders of the known universe… and beyond.