Kansas 2 - The Yellow Brick Road, Part 31
Title: Kansas 2 - The Yellow Brick Road
Author: Soledad
Author’s notes: For disclaimer, rating, etc., see the secondary index page.
No, I don’t think that it would be safe to try and beam someone through an entire planet. If I’m mistaken, so be it. But for me it makes sense to be right above the place where the transfer would go.
Details about the planet Z’ha’dum are from the Babylon 5 wiki. Since I never read any of the novels, everything is based on TV-canon, online research and personal imagination. This is still an AU, after all. Some of the medical babble is from the Voyager episode "Flashback".
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
PART 31 - 23/24 December 2260
Ivanova’s message caused great, albeit cautious excitement aboard Voyager. Since they needed to be in direct line with Babylon 5 for the beaming process, Janeway ordered Ensign Baytart to take the ship out of the shadow of Epsilon 3 and the Doctor to prepare Tuvok for transfer.
“It will be best if we beam him over together with the cryo-tube,” Lillian Hobbs suggested; she had picked up twenty-fourth century technical slang with impressive speed. “I wouldn’t risk bringing him out of cryogenic suspension just yet. Not before we can be sure that Mr. Bester will be able to help him.”
The doctor agreed with her suggestion and also insisted on her going with Tuvok, since he couldn’t.
“I’m not sure I can entrust Commander Tuvok into the care of an unknown doctor,” he declared. “At least I know that I can trust you.”
Lillian accepted the half-hearted compliment for what it was. It did give her a little evil satisfaction that she wouldn’t have to hand over her patient to Doctor Franklin, even though she knew that the EMH was merely being practical. She had been involved in Tuvok’s previous treatment; Franklin hadn’t. It was that simple.
Still, she was looking forward to seeing the MedLabs again. They had been her home for the last three years; her entire life, in fact. And, much as she liked her new life aboard Voyager, she missed her colleagues of old; the ones with whom she barely needed words to come to an understanding. She hadn’t been on board Voyager long enough to fully belong; not yet. She was still a guest. Becoming fully integrated would take time.
But even her status as a newcomer had already given her the golden opportunity to pick up the most important pieces of gossip, so she had a fairly good understanding of the dynamics among the command staff. It came as no surprise therefore that Captain Janeway insisted on accompanying them to MedLab One. Commander Tuvok was allegedly her oldest friend on board, after all.
Or perhaps the only true friend left.
Kes was coming, too, of course, as it was ultimately her task to help Tuvok face the traumatic memory of confronting the Shadow servants. She had her own experiences in that area; they could only hope that - with the guidance of the dubious Psi Cop - it would actually work.
They all met in the transporter room, including Ensign Jurot, whom Captain Janeway assigned to the team as telepathic reinforcement. They needed to beam over to the station before Tuvok’s cryo-chamber would be transferred directly to MedLab One. Ensign Kim insisted on operating the transporter controls personally.
“Ready?” he asked, giving Kes an encouraging smile.
“As ready as we’ll ever be,” Captain Janeway replied. “Energize.”
In the next moment Lillian felt the familiar, tingling sensation, and then she found herself back in her old workplace.
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
Just like last time, he didn’t come through Customs, but was ordered to depart and wait in the docking bay. He did so, and was not the least surprised to see Ivanova waiting for him. They usually sent the feisty commander to deal with him, in a pathetic effort to catch him red-handed, should he try to scan them without their consent.
As if they could discover his more subtle moves!
Right now he had no intention to make any of those moves, though. He had to build up a certain level of trust - as far as they could ever trust him, which, frankly, wasn’t very far - if he wanted to be let in to their plans. And, considering the fact that this time they had asked for his presence, he could expect to be given at least some information, in exchange for whatever help they wanted.
He ignored the stone-faced Narn guards, as well as the oh-so-predictable death glare of Ivanova, and walked up to Ivanova with a smile, delighting in her discomfort.
“You know,” he said by way of greeting, with a sickly insincere smile that he knew would set her teeth on the edge,” if this keeps up, I’m gonna start thinking that people around here just don’t like me.”
And he made a sweeping gesture towards the Narn guards with his good hand.
“And you’d be probably right,” Ivanova replied coldly.
Bester didn’t even blink at her open hostility. “Is that so? Captain Sheridan’s message suggested that you needed me.”
“We do,” she admitted. “That doesn’t mean we have to like you, though. Which we don’t.”
“Oh, Commander,” he gave her his best creepy, insincere smile again. “Believe me, the feeling is entirely mutual.”
Before Ivanova could have riposted, the young woman accompanying her laid a placating hand upon her forearm.
“Please, Commander, try to be civil. We do need his help,” she turned to Bester and inclined her head politely. “Mr. Bester, I am Ensign Crisa Jurot. I’ll be your aide during your visit.”
To the naked eye she seemed completely human, but Bester could feel at once that she was not. Her exotic features and jewel-like eyes gave her a vaguely oriental look that was perhaps more a common trait of her species than any personal combination of genes. She was definitely an alien, although Bester couldn’t even begin to guess what species she might belong to. He had never heard of any aliens that would look so completely human.
Even the Centauri, who came closest, could be identified at once as non-humans.
“I’m a Betazoid,” she said with a smile, and he realized that he’d carelessly allowed his stray thoughts to escape. She had to be a telepath, then, if she was able to pick them up.
“Yes, I am,” she smiled again. “Nothing compared with you, of course, but Captain Janeway thought you’d feel more comfortable around me. I’m trained to keep my thoughts to myself. You won’t be bombarded with them all the time.”
He couldn’t resist. He just had to test her shields, very, very carefully… but she caught him doing so anyway. She had to be a lot stronger than he had expected.
“Go on,” she said, still smiling. “I don’t mind. Telepathic communication is something my people do all the time.”
He followed the invitation, trying to be as unobtrusive as he could. There was no need to tear into her mind if she was offering information willingly.
In the next moment she understood why she was doing so: she belonged to a race that consisted entirely of telepaths!
“We are not the only ones,” she said out loud, for Ivanova’s sake. “It’s on behalf of one of the others that we need your help. He suffered severe mental trauma, due to overextending his powers. We hope that somebody who’s an equally strong telepath can help him find his way back to himself.”
“I’ll try, of course,” Bester wasn’t a man of philanthropic nature - far from it, in fact - but the chance to study alien telepathy previously unknown was too good to let it slip through his fingers. “I assume he’s in your MedLabs, then?”
Ivanova nodded. “Ensign Jurot will escort you to the patient. I have to return to C&C.”
With that, she left and Bester followed the exotic-looking young alien to MedLab One. In the examination room, still enclosed in some sort of cryo-chamber, lay a dark-skinned man with pointy ears; save for those he, too, looked entirely human, but Bester could feel that he wasn’t, either. Just how many new alien species had Sheridan and his band of rogues made first contact since his last visit to Babylon 5 anyway?
At the unconscious man’s bedside two women sat. One of them seemed barely more than a child, also with pointy ears, huge blue eyes and a blonde pixie cut. She looked a bit like the Flower Fairy, sans the butterfly wings. Another alien then.
The other one was doubtlessly human, wearing the same coverall-like uniform as Ensign Jurot. A mature adult, too, with slightly hard features, a tight bun that made his scalp hurt in sympathy, and surprisingly stable shields for a mundane. She was clearly used to telepaths and the necessity of keeping them out of her thoughts.
“Captain Janeway, this is Mr. Bester,” Ensign Jurot reported crisply.
The older woman looked up - and stared at Bester in obvious shock.
“Admiral Chekov?” she asked in a deep, somewhat scratchy voice. “But… what are you doing here?”
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
One day earlier
Galen and Seven of Nine reached the Shadow homeworld only a little after Sheridan’s arrival. While the sight was not entirely new for the technomage, due to his visit to the Great Machine several years previously, Seven of Nine studied the cradle of what was considered the ultimate evil in this universe with detached scientific interest.
“Not a very welcoming word,” she stated, analysing the sensor readings.
She had become quite familiar with the systems aboard Galen’s ship by now.
“Although romantically inclined humans would perhaps find the extensive mountain ranges appealing,” she continued. “But the atmosphere is completely lacking nucleogenic particles, which means it is incapable of producing rain. On the other hand, twenty-five per cent of the planetary surface is covered with wide-spread, violent dust storms. The extremely dry atmosphere and the low levels of carbon monoxide would prove fatal for humans - in fact, for all oxygen-breathers - within the hour.”
“True,” Galen agreed. “However, its inhabitants have different needs; needs that the planet has matched for eons.”
Seven raised an inquisitive eyebrow, but as Galen didn’t offer more information, she returned to the readings.
“There is also an elevated level of background radiation, suggesting that the planet was heavily bombarded by thermonuclear weapons, approximately a thousand years ago,” she said.
“It is a blasted, charred wasteland now,” Galen replied grimly, “its surface marred by the many attacks meant to drive the shadows away from the planet, eon after eon. Yet they always return; and since they last awakened, their cities have been kept largely underground.”
“They have entire cities on that barren rock?” Seven asked in surprise. “How many of hem do still exist after all those millennia?”
“No-one can tell you; and the few who could, would never reveal the truth,” Galen said. “But they are not the only ones who inhabit Z’ha’dum. They have servants: entire races that serve their purposes; some voluntarily, others have no choice. One of those races in particular has relocated to Z’ha’dum after the loss of their homeworld as a whole. Others are fewer in numbers but not lesser in importance.”
“There are stone pillars, raging from ninety to one hundred and forty metres in height all over the planetary surface,” Seven called up the image of the odd formations that were covered in odd inscriptions. “They are spaced exactly 3.765 kilometres from one another. Do you know their purpose?”
“Oh yes,” Galen said darkly. “Those are the extensions of the Eye.”
Seven gave him another inquiring look. “What is the Eye?”
Before Galen could have answered, a cluster of red lights appeared in front of the ship, burning like flames. There were fourteen of those fiery lights, forming a very distinctive pattern, as if looking out for something… or someone.
“That is the Eye,” Galen said grimly, “and it is looking for us.”
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
Present time
Using the confusion of his counterparts, Bester risked a quick scan, which revealed that Captain Janeway honestly believed him to be somebody else - a person of whom he had never heard before.
Now, this was interesting. He hadn’t known about having a doppelganger… and in the Naval Forces at that. Not that Earth’s Navy would have played any important role in the last hundred years or so; not since the nature of warfare had changed dramatically and most of them moved out into space anyway.
Still, the matter deserved some looking into. If he had some previously unknown relatives, he wanted to keep an eye on them. Even if they were mundanes.
Especially if they were mundanes - and in some kind of military position, at that. An admiral ranked pretty high within the Navy, and that meant connections. One could never have enough connections.
Right now, however, he had more urgent things to do; and more crucial information to gather. Therefore he called up his best manners and gave the woman the sincerest smile he was able to manage.
“I’m afraid you’re mistaking me for someone else, Captain,” he said. “My name is Alfred Bester; Captain Sheridan asked me to come because, apparently, you needed my help. So, how can I be of assistance?”
For some reason the woman looked taken aback - but only for a moment, then her shields slammed down into place again.
“You sounded just like him,” she explained with a pained smile, looking down at the patient in the cryogenic chamber. “That was something he would say.”
For some reason that made Bester uncertain; a feeling he truly, deeply hated. Suddenly the whole affair lost much of its appeal. But he couldn’t back off now.
“Let’s hope that certain similarities in thinking will make the patient more accepting towards my presence in his mind,” he said. “Otherwise this could turn very nasty, very quickly.”
“It won’t,” the little alien pixie said quietly. “You don’t need to enter his mind; I will. You’ll just have to guide me, as I never connected with someone so near to death before.”
Bester shot her a doubtful glance. “And he’ll let you in just like that? Are you his daughter or what?”
Based on the ears, that could have been possible.
“No,” she replied with a sad little smile, “his pupil. He is used to have me in his mind; we frequently connected during my training. I’m just not sure how to find him; he’s too far withdrawn into himself.”
Bester thought about it for a moment. He was fairly certain that it could be done; all those deathbed scans taught him things about the depths of human mind no other telepath was aware of. He could use that knowledge now. He had taught the method to a few selected others before.
Granted, this was an alien, and so was the girl. Bu he has scanned enough aliens due to his work as a Psi Cop, even as bizarre ones as Drazi or Gaim, to know that all sentient beings shared certain mental characteristics. The more basic the issue was - pain, joy, hunger, fear and the likes - the greater were the similarities.
“We can try,” he finally said. “But I can’t guarantee that we’ll succeed. We’re about to enter unknown territory, full of hidden traps.”
Captain Janeway nodded. “We are aware of the risks and of the uncertainty of the outcome. Kes, however,” she gestured towards the little alien pixie, “would like to at least try. We owe Commander Tuvok that much, even if we fail in the end.”
Bester eyed the patient with well-concealed curiosity. Somehow he couldn’t imagine the man serving in the Navy; for some reason he invoked the mental image of a glowing desert. A decidedly alien one.
“Is he a member of your crew?” he asked.
“My chief of security; and also my oldest friend,” she replied.
Bester found that hard to believe. Mundanes didn’t make friends with telepaths; and besides, just how old could their friendship be? He was positive that EarthGov had not made official contact with aliens like these yet. Nor did he know of unofficial sightings… and if there had been such sightings in the past, he would know about it. The Corps kept a close eye on such things - that was how they learned about these Shadow aliens in the first place.
“Very well,” he said. “Let’s give this a try then. What exactly happened to him that he ended up in this state?”
“He had unexpected telepathic contact with the aliens we are at war with,” Doctor Hobbs said quietly from the background. “According to the… to his own physician, this led to a psychic overload. Long suppressed psychic powers broke to the surface with an intensity that he could not handle.”
“Like a mind-quake?” Bester asked. That would have been a known quality; one that he could deal with.
The doctor shrugged. “Yes and no; he isn’t human, after all. His people call it the t’lokan schism; a condition unique to his race, as far as I can tell. It basically means that the mental trauma causes physical damage to the brain, unless the patient faces the memory and integrates it.”
“And why is his physician not here?” Bester demanded, fascinated and horrified at the same time.
“It is physically not possible for him to be present,” Captain Janeway said evasively. “Besides, his presence wouldn’t be of much help. He’s not a telepath.”
There was clearly something else about said physician she wasn’t telling, but that could wait. Having got an idea what they were about to face, Bester was now eager to begin.
“How do you want to begin?” he asked the little alien pixie whose name was apparently Kes.
“Lillian… Doctor Hobbs will take him out of cryogenic suspension,” she explained with the easy confidence of a doctor or a trained nurse; perhaps she was one. “Then the two of us will have to connect and try to reach him. It won’t be easy; he had to be heavily sedated because his brain activity was off the scale. I’m afraid we won’t get a second chance to save him.”
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
One day earlier
Seven of Nine gave the ominous rows of red lights an interested look.
“A curious pattern,” she said. “It still doesn’t explain what it is, though. Is it a natural phenomenon or a piece of advanced technology?”
“A little bit of both,” Galen replied. “But mostly, it is a vast, advanced and powerful machine that has tendrils throughout Z'ha'dum, and access to all its sensors, energies and resources. Basically a giant version of the places of power we technomages set up on planets and moons.”
“You mean a security and defence system?” Seven clarified.
Galen nodded. “That… and more. It does serve as the planetary defence system for Z’ha’dum, but also as the command and control system for all their warships operating across the galaxy.”
“Sounds similar to the Great Machine of Epsilon Three,” Seven said.
Galen nodded again. “It is similar; only much more ancient and far more powerful.”
“Does it also require a living being to serve as its central operator?” Seven asked.
“I do not know,” Galen admitted. “If it does, that has to be a truly extraordinary being to handle technology like this. No other system I know is capable of scanning great distances in hyperspace.”
“But if it is so powerful it must have detected us already,” Seven pointed out logically.
“Oh, it knows we are here,” Galen agreed. “It never misses a new arrival.”
Seven raised her implanted eyebrow. “How do you intend to slip through the defence grid, then?”
“As the Vorlons would say, we technomages are born of chaos and tainted with Shadow; and like will allow like,” Galen explained.
“You mean the machine will recognize your implants as related technology and will let you pass?”
“Yes, but it won’t be that simple. The Eye tests everyone; and it is known to have exhibited telepathic abilities in the past. People who managed to escape reported hearing the voices of their loved ones in their head, entrancing them into surrender.”
“How did they manage to resist, then?”
“It is not known. The last such even happened thousand years ago, during the last Shadow war. But I was told that if I do not resist or betray myself, the Eye will let me pass.”
“Told by whom?”
“By a Vorlon,” he raised a hand. “Yes, I know they had shown themselves more than a little dubious lately, but this particular one was always different (*). I am willing to give him the benefit of doubt.”
“It is our lives you’re bargaining with,” she reminded him.
“Nothing truly important has ever been easy,” he replied cryptically.
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
Present time
Doctor Hobbs switched off the cryo-tube and Bester watched in fascination as the little alien pixie placed her fingertips on the dark face of the unconscious patient in what seemed a distinct pattern. She must have felt his curiosity because she glanced at him over one fragile shoulder.
“Vulcan mind-meld is initiated by connecting with certain nerve endings in the face,” she explained. “It is easier for them to control the meld this way.”
“But we can’t touch him like that both,” Bester pointed out.
“There is no need,” she replied. “It’s enough if you touch me - without the gloves, though.”
That made sense, actually. Skin contact always intensified telepathic connection. Still, he felt oddly vulnerable when he removed the black glove from his good hand with the help of his left elbow and laid his palm on the girl’s bare arm.
The gesture was more intimate than any of the mundanes surrounding them could even begin to understand. Although the alien ensign might have had an idea, being a telepath herself.
His eyes drifted closed as he shut out the agitated thoughts of the mundanes around them, gazing at the darkness behind his eyelids, aware of the angle of lighting in MedLab One that came through as a faint glow.
The glow then began to fade as his mind extended itself to the alien girl. Thoughts began blending gently like tidal waves moving in and out.
The girl’s voice was low and gentle, barely more than a whisper. The words of some strange mantra sifted through the filaments of both their minds.
“Your mind to my mind… your thoughts to my thoughts… I’m taking us back… back to the battle where we both faced the enemy… where we both faced darkness…”
Was this all there was to it?
Bester’s mind began to clear after just a brief swim. He opened his eyes, wondering if the process had gone wrong - and found himself standing in a dark alien wasteland. The howling wind whipped sand across his face; it burned in his eyes. It was night, and there were no stars on the sky, or a moon; and yet the rolling sand dunes that stretched into every direction towards the dark horizon were illuminated by an eerie violet glow.
Where are we? He asked the girl who was standing next to him, her fragile shape battered by the wind.
In Tuvok’s mind, she replied. But - but he’s not here! Why is he not here?
I assume he’s withdrawn deeply into himself, Bester said. People do that when they’re traumatised.
But how can we find him?
The girl was beginning to panic. The raw, untamed power that was her very being roiled dangerously, and Bester wondered if all these mundanes knew they had a ticking time bomb in their midst.
Probably not. Mundanes were, as a rule, infuriatingly clueless. In some cases that fact served his purposes just fine. In other cases, like this one… not so much.
He needed to calm the girl down, as soon as possible. A mind-quake of this magnitude could kill them both - and probably tear the MedLabs in pieces.
Think! He said with authority. You brought us here. Why?
Tuvok needs to reconstruct the traumatic memory in its entirety, she explained, using scientific steps to get herself under control. By facing the horrors of the Shadow encounter rather than avoiding the memory, he can begin to overcome his fear and anger and other emotional responses a Vulcan isn’t supposed to have. Only by reintegrating the memory into his conscious mind will he be free of the destructive emotions associated with it - or so the Doctor told me.
I understand that, Bester said, choosing not to ask who the Doctor was; for now. But why here?
I don’t know, she admitted. I wanted to go back to the battle in Sector 83; it was there he faced the Shadows and lost control over his psionic powers. But this isn’t Sector 83.
What is it then? He asked.
I don’t know. I’ve never seen this place. But it’s a desert and a sand storm, so it has to be Vulcan.
Vulcan?
His home planet. Perhaps his mind instinctively fled home.
Not a very welcoming place, he commented. Perhaps the storm and the darkness are manifestations of his mental state, though. In which case he could still be fighting the Shadows in his mind.
Or dying, she said glumly.
No, I don’t think so, he said with a mental headshake. This is nothing like any of the deathbed scans I’ve performed. No, I believe he’s still fighting - and losing. He’ll need help.
But how could we help? I can’t feel him!
You’ve faced the Shadows, too, haven’t you: Can you find them? Perhaps that way we can also find your mentor.
I can try, she replied with renewed hope and he could feel her powers bundle like a thousand laser rays.
And then she began to glow.
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
Janeway, Lillian and Crisa Jurot watched the three profoundly different telepaths locked in the meld with increasing concern. Tuvok, although no longer sedated, was still unconscious, yet convulsing and sweating profoundly. Bester was deathly pale, stiff like a statue, his good hand clamped on Kes’s slender arm like a vice.
And Kes… she was clearly concentrating fiercely, a sheet of pale golden energy surrounding her. First just the outlines of her body; then it extended into a large ball of glowing energy, enveloping both Tuvok and Bester, like the shields would envelop a starship under attack.
And that was the moment when they saw it: a monstrous, violet-black creature with an erect upper body, sporting razor-sharp shoulder spines; a triangular head with fourteen glowing red eyes divided into four groups, two sets slanted upward and two sets arranged to align perfectly under the first sets. The… thing had a pair of spiked, grasping forelimbs and three pairs of spider-like legs supporting its rear.
And it was huge: its spiny head touched the ceiling as it towered over them, and it was almost physically emanating malevolence. Its posture reminded them of a prying mantis right before grabbing its prey.
“Wait!” Ensign Jurot said, holding back Janeway who was reaching for her phaser. “It is not real; just a projection.”
“What do you mean?” Lillian asked in confusion.
“One of them must be a psychoprojective telepath,” Jurot explained. “Such people do exist, although they are extremely rare; and I’ve never heard of a human one before. Basically, we see what they are seeing at this very moment. Is this one of those Shadow creatures?”
Lillian shrugged. “I never saw one; but what else could it be? Both Kes and Commander Tuvok faced them in battle.”
“All right, so it can’t harm us,” Janeway said. “Can it harm them?”
“It is possible,” Jurot allowed. “It’s up to Commander Tuvok now. If he accepts Kes’s help and manages to put his memories in the right perspective, all will be well.”
“And if he can’t?”
“Then it can become very ugly,” Jurot said. “If the commander has no control over his suppressed powers, Kes won’t be able to control hers, either; and what Mr. Bester is capable of is an unknown factor. I hope the station won’t fall to pieces.”
Her words were interrupted by the horrible shriek of the creature she assumed was a mere projection. The bone-chilling sound was as much mental as auditory, and there was no way to cut it off. It went on and on for endless seconds - then the Shadow image began to warble and dissolved into black smoke that, too, faded away without a trace.
In the next moment Kes’s hands fell away from Tuvok’s face. The Vulcan opened his eyes, looking up into the face of Bester, still slightly confused.
“Admiral Chekov?” he asked in an utterly emotionless manner only a very surprised Vulcan could display. “What are you doing here, sir?”
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
In his quarters in the alien sector Ambassador Ulkesh of the Vorlons stiffened in his protective suit… well, the mental equivalent of it, being a purely energy-based life-form. There had been a considerable release of psychic energy somewhere within the station, and for a fleeting moment he had the impression that he could feel Kosh’s presence.
But that was impossible. Kosh was dead, and what little might have remained of him went to Z’ha’dum with that arrogant human, to be erased for good. They had to accept his loss and move on… towards restoring order and eliminating chaos in the universe - no matter the costs.
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
(*) Galen means Kosh, of course
Author: Soledad
Author’s notes: For disclaimer, rating, etc., see the secondary index page.
No, I don’t think that it would be safe to try and beam someone through an entire planet. If I’m mistaken, so be it. But for me it makes sense to be right above the place where the transfer would go.
Details about the planet Z’ha’dum are from the Babylon 5 wiki. Since I never read any of the novels, everything is based on TV-canon, online research and personal imagination. This is still an AU, after all. Some of the medical babble is from the Voyager episode "Flashback".
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
PART 31 - 23/24 December 2260
Ivanova’s message caused great, albeit cautious excitement aboard Voyager. Since they needed to be in direct line with Babylon 5 for the beaming process, Janeway ordered Ensign Baytart to take the ship out of the shadow of Epsilon 3 and the Doctor to prepare Tuvok for transfer.
“It will be best if we beam him over together with the cryo-tube,” Lillian Hobbs suggested; she had picked up twenty-fourth century technical slang with impressive speed. “I wouldn’t risk bringing him out of cryogenic suspension just yet. Not before we can be sure that Mr. Bester will be able to help him.”
The doctor agreed with her suggestion and also insisted on her going with Tuvok, since he couldn’t.
“I’m not sure I can entrust Commander Tuvok into the care of an unknown doctor,” he declared. “At least I know that I can trust you.”
Lillian accepted the half-hearted compliment for what it was. It did give her a little evil satisfaction that she wouldn’t have to hand over her patient to Doctor Franklin, even though she knew that the EMH was merely being practical. She had been involved in Tuvok’s previous treatment; Franklin hadn’t. It was that simple.
Still, she was looking forward to seeing the MedLabs again. They had been her home for the last three years; her entire life, in fact. And, much as she liked her new life aboard Voyager, she missed her colleagues of old; the ones with whom she barely needed words to come to an understanding. She hadn’t been on board Voyager long enough to fully belong; not yet. She was still a guest. Becoming fully integrated would take time.
But even her status as a newcomer had already given her the golden opportunity to pick up the most important pieces of gossip, so she had a fairly good understanding of the dynamics among the command staff. It came as no surprise therefore that Captain Janeway insisted on accompanying them to MedLab One. Commander Tuvok was allegedly her oldest friend on board, after all.
Or perhaps the only true friend left.
Kes was coming, too, of course, as it was ultimately her task to help Tuvok face the traumatic memory of confronting the Shadow servants. She had her own experiences in that area; they could only hope that - with the guidance of the dubious Psi Cop - it would actually work.
They all met in the transporter room, including Ensign Jurot, whom Captain Janeway assigned to the team as telepathic reinforcement. They needed to beam over to the station before Tuvok’s cryo-chamber would be transferred directly to MedLab One. Ensign Kim insisted on operating the transporter controls personally.
“Ready?” he asked, giving Kes an encouraging smile.
“As ready as we’ll ever be,” Captain Janeway replied. “Energize.”
In the next moment Lillian felt the familiar, tingling sensation, and then she found herself back in her old workplace.
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
Just like last time, he didn’t come through Customs, but was ordered to depart and wait in the docking bay. He did so, and was not the least surprised to see Ivanova waiting for him. They usually sent the feisty commander to deal with him, in a pathetic effort to catch him red-handed, should he try to scan them without their consent.
As if they could discover his more subtle moves!
Right now he had no intention to make any of those moves, though. He had to build up a certain level of trust - as far as they could ever trust him, which, frankly, wasn’t very far - if he wanted to be let in to their plans. And, considering the fact that this time they had asked for his presence, he could expect to be given at least some information, in exchange for whatever help they wanted.
He ignored the stone-faced Narn guards, as well as the oh-so-predictable death glare of Ivanova, and walked up to Ivanova with a smile, delighting in her discomfort.
“You know,” he said by way of greeting, with a sickly insincere smile that he knew would set her teeth on the edge,” if this keeps up, I’m gonna start thinking that people around here just don’t like me.”
And he made a sweeping gesture towards the Narn guards with his good hand.
“And you’d be probably right,” Ivanova replied coldly.
Bester didn’t even blink at her open hostility. “Is that so? Captain Sheridan’s message suggested that you needed me.”
“We do,” she admitted. “That doesn’t mean we have to like you, though. Which we don’t.”
“Oh, Commander,” he gave her his best creepy, insincere smile again. “Believe me, the feeling is entirely mutual.”
Before Ivanova could have riposted, the young woman accompanying her laid a placating hand upon her forearm.
“Please, Commander, try to be civil. We do need his help,” she turned to Bester and inclined her head politely. “Mr. Bester, I am Ensign Crisa Jurot. I’ll be your aide during your visit.”
To the naked eye she seemed completely human, but Bester could feel at once that she was not. Her exotic features and jewel-like eyes gave her a vaguely oriental look that was perhaps more a common trait of her species than any personal combination of genes. She was definitely an alien, although Bester couldn’t even begin to guess what species she might belong to. He had never heard of any aliens that would look so completely human.
Even the Centauri, who came closest, could be identified at once as non-humans.
“I’m a Betazoid,” she said with a smile, and he realized that he’d carelessly allowed his stray thoughts to escape. She had to be a telepath, then, if she was able to pick them up.
“Yes, I am,” she smiled again. “Nothing compared with you, of course, but Captain Janeway thought you’d feel more comfortable around me. I’m trained to keep my thoughts to myself. You won’t be bombarded with them all the time.”
He couldn’t resist. He just had to test her shields, very, very carefully… but she caught him doing so anyway. She had to be a lot stronger than he had expected.
“Go on,” she said, still smiling. “I don’t mind. Telepathic communication is something my people do all the time.”
He followed the invitation, trying to be as unobtrusive as he could. There was no need to tear into her mind if she was offering information willingly.
In the next moment she understood why she was doing so: she belonged to a race that consisted entirely of telepaths!
“We are not the only ones,” she said out loud, for Ivanova’s sake. “It’s on behalf of one of the others that we need your help. He suffered severe mental trauma, due to overextending his powers. We hope that somebody who’s an equally strong telepath can help him find his way back to himself.”
“I’ll try, of course,” Bester wasn’t a man of philanthropic nature - far from it, in fact - but the chance to study alien telepathy previously unknown was too good to let it slip through his fingers. “I assume he’s in your MedLabs, then?”
Ivanova nodded. “Ensign Jurot will escort you to the patient. I have to return to C&C.”
With that, she left and Bester followed the exotic-looking young alien to MedLab One. In the examination room, still enclosed in some sort of cryo-chamber, lay a dark-skinned man with pointy ears; save for those he, too, looked entirely human, but Bester could feel that he wasn’t, either. Just how many new alien species had Sheridan and his band of rogues made first contact since his last visit to Babylon 5 anyway?
At the unconscious man’s bedside two women sat. One of them seemed barely more than a child, also with pointy ears, huge blue eyes and a blonde pixie cut. She looked a bit like the Flower Fairy, sans the butterfly wings. Another alien then.
The other one was doubtlessly human, wearing the same coverall-like uniform as Ensign Jurot. A mature adult, too, with slightly hard features, a tight bun that made his scalp hurt in sympathy, and surprisingly stable shields for a mundane. She was clearly used to telepaths and the necessity of keeping them out of her thoughts.
“Captain Janeway, this is Mr. Bester,” Ensign Jurot reported crisply.
The older woman looked up - and stared at Bester in obvious shock.
“Admiral Chekov?” she asked in a deep, somewhat scratchy voice. “But… what are you doing here?”
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
One day earlier
Galen and Seven of Nine reached the Shadow homeworld only a little after Sheridan’s arrival. While the sight was not entirely new for the technomage, due to his visit to the Great Machine several years previously, Seven of Nine studied the cradle of what was considered the ultimate evil in this universe with detached scientific interest.
“Not a very welcoming word,” she stated, analysing the sensor readings.
She had become quite familiar with the systems aboard Galen’s ship by now.
“Although romantically inclined humans would perhaps find the extensive mountain ranges appealing,” she continued. “But the atmosphere is completely lacking nucleogenic particles, which means it is incapable of producing rain. On the other hand, twenty-five per cent of the planetary surface is covered with wide-spread, violent dust storms. The extremely dry atmosphere and the low levels of carbon monoxide would prove fatal for humans - in fact, for all oxygen-breathers - within the hour.”
“True,” Galen agreed. “However, its inhabitants have different needs; needs that the planet has matched for eons.”
Seven raised an inquisitive eyebrow, but as Galen didn’t offer more information, she returned to the readings.
“There is also an elevated level of background radiation, suggesting that the planet was heavily bombarded by thermonuclear weapons, approximately a thousand years ago,” she said.
“It is a blasted, charred wasteland now,” Galen replied grimly, “its surface marred by the many attacks meant to drive the shadows away from the planet, eon after eon. Yet they always return; and since they last awakened, their cities have been kept largely underground.”
“They have entire cities on that barren rock?” Seven asked in surprise. “How many of hem do still exist after all those millennia?”
“No-one can tell you; and the few who could, would never reveal the truth,” Galen said. “But they are not the only ones who inhabit Z’ha’dum. They have servants: entire races that serve their purposes; some voluntarily, others have no choice. One of those races in particular has relocated to Z’ha’dum after the loss of their homeworld as a whole. Others are fewer in numbers but not lesser in importance.”
“There are stone pillars, raging from ninety to one hundred and forty metres in height all over the planetary surface,” Seven called up the image of the odd formations that were covered in odd inscriptions. “They are spaced exactly 3.765 kilometres from one another. Do you know their purpose?”
“Oh yes,” Galen said darkly. “Those are the extensions of the Eye.”
Seven gave him another inquiring look. “What is the Eye?”
Before Galen could have answered, a cluster of red lights appeared in front of the ship, burning like flames. There were fourteen of those fiery lights, forming a very distinctive pattern, as if looking out for something… or someone.
“That is the Eye,” Galen said grimly, “and it is looking for us.”
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
Present time
Using the confusion of his counterparts, Bester risked a quick scan, which revealed that Captain Janeway honestly believed him to be somebody else - a person of whom he had never heard before.
Now, this was interesting. He hadn’t known about having a doppelganger… and in the Naval Forces at that. Not that Earth’s Navy would have played any important role in the last hundred years or so; not since the nature of warfare had changed dramatically and most of them moved out into space anyway.
Still, the matter deserved some looking into. If he had some previously unknown relatives, he wanted to keep an eye on them. Even if they were mundanes.
Especially if they were mundanes - and in some kind of military position, at that. An admiral ranked pretty high within the Navy, and that meant connections. One could never have enough connections.
Right now, however, he had more urgent things to do; and more crucial information to gather. Therefore he called up his best manners and gave the woman the sincerest smile he was able to manage.
“I’m afraid you’re mistaking me for someone else, Captain,” he said. “My name is Alfred Bester; Captain Sheridan asked me to come because, apparently, you needed my help. So, how can I be of assistance?”
For some reason the woman looked taken aback - but only for a moment, then her shields slammed down into place again.
“You sounded just like him,” she explained with a pained smile, looking down at the patient in the cryogenic chamber. “That was something he would say.”
For some reason that made Bester uncertain; a feeling he truly, deeply hated. Suddenly the whole affair lost much of its appeal. But he couldn’t back off now.
“Let’s hope that certain similarities in thinking will make the patient more accepting towards my presence in his mind,” he said. “Otherwise this could turn very nasty, very quickly.”
“It won’t,” the little alien pixie said quietly. “You don’t need to enter his mind; I will. You’ll just have to guide me, as I never connected with someone so near to death before.”
Bester shot her a doubtful glance. “And he’ll let you in just like that? Are you his daughter or what?”
Based on the ears, that could have been possible.
“No,” she replied with a sad little smile, “his pupil. He is used to have me in his mind; we frequently connected during my training. I’m just not sure how to find him; he’s too far withdrawn into himself.”
Bester thought about it for a moment. He was fairly certain that it could be done; all those deathbed scans taught him things about the depths of human mind no other telepath was aware of. He could use that knowledge now. He had taught the method to a few selected others before.
Granted, this was an alien, and so was the girl. Bu he has scanned enough aliens due to his work as a Psi Cop, even as bizarre ones as Drazi or Gaim, to know that all sentient beings shared certain mental characteristics. The more basic the issue was - pain, joy, hunger, fear and the likes - the greater were the similarities.
“We can try,” he finally said. “But I can’t guarantee that we’ll succeed. We’re about to enter unknown territory, full of hidden traps.”
Captain Janeway nodded. “We are aware of the risks and of the uncertainty of the outcome. Kes, however,” she gestured towards the little alien pixie, “would like to at least try. We owe Commander Tuvok that much, even if we fail in the end.”
Bester eyed the patient with well-concealed curiosity. Somehow he couldn’t imagine the man serving in the Navy; for some reason he invoked the mental image of a glowing desert. A decidedly alien one.
“Is he a member of your crew?” he asked.
“My chief of security; and also my oldest friend,” she replied.
Bester found that hard to believe. Mundanes didn’t make friends with telepaths; and besides, just how old could their friendship be? He was positive that EarthGov had not made official contact with aliens like these yet. Nor did he know of unofficial sightings… and if there had been such sightings in the past, he would know about it. The Corps kept a close eye on such things - that was how they learned about these Shadow aliens in the first place.
“Very well,” he said. “Let’s give this a try then. What exactly happened to him that he ended up in this state?”
“He had unexpected telepathic contact with the aliens we are at war with,” Doctor Hobbs said quietly from the background. “According to the… to his own physician, this led to a psychic overload. Long suppressed psychic powers broke to the surface with an intensity that he could not handle.”
“Like a mind-quake?” Bester asked. That would have been a known quality; one that he could deal with.
The doctor shrugged. “Yes and no; he isn’t human, after all. His people call it the t’lokan schism; a condition unique to his race, as far as I can tell. It basically means that the mental trauma causes physical damage to the brain, unless the patient faces the memory and integrates it.”
“And why is his physician not here?” Bester demanded, fascinated and horrified at the same time.
“It is physically not possible for him to be present,” Captain Janeway said evasively. “Besides, his presence wouldn’t be of much help. He’s not a telepath.”
There was clearly something else about said physician she wasn’t telling, but that could wait. Having got an idea what they were about to face, Bester was now eager to begin.
“How do you want to begin?” he asked the little alien pixie whose name was apparently Kes.
“Lillian… Doctor Hobbs will take him out of cryogenic suspension,” she explained with the easy confidence of a doctor or a trained nurse; perhaps she was one. “Then the two of us will have to connect and try to reach him. It won’t be easy; he had to be heavily sedated because his brain activity was off the scale. I’m afraid we won’t get a second chance to save him.”
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
One day earlier
Seven of Nine gave the ominous rows of red lights an interested look.
“A curious pattern,” she said. “It still doesn’t explain what it is, though. Is it a natural phenomenon or a piece of advanced technology?”
“A little bit of both,” Galen replied. “But mostly, it is a vast, advanced and powerful machine that has tendrils throughout Z'ha'dum, and access to all its sensors, energies and resources. Basically a giant version of the places of power we technomages set up on planets and moons.”
“You mean a security and defence system?” Seven clarified.
Galen nodded. “That… and more. It does serve as the planetary defence system for Z’ha’dum, but also as the command and control system for all their warships operating across the galaxy.”
“Sounds similar to the Great Machine of Epsilon Three,” Seven said.
Galen nodded again. “It is similar; only much more ancient and far more powerful.”
“Does it also require a living being to serve as its central operator?” Seven asked.
“I do not know,” Galen admitted. “If it does, that has to be a truly extraordinary being to handle technology like this. No other system I know is capable of scanning great distances in hyperspace.”
“But if it is so powerful it must have detected us already,” Seven pointed out logically.
“Oh, it knows we are here,” Galen agreed. “It never misses a new arrival.”
Seven raised her implanted eyebrow. “How do you intend to slip through the defence grid, then?”
“As the Vorlons would say, we technomages are born of chaos and tainted with Shadow; and like will allow like,” Galen explained.
“You mean the machine will recognize your implants as related technology and will let you pass?”
“Yes, but it won’t be that simple. The Eye tests everyone; and it is known to have exhibited telepathic abilities in the past. People who managed to escape reported hearing the voices of their loved ones in their head, entrancing them into surrender.”
“How did they manage to resist, then?”
“It is not known. The last such even happened thousand years ago, during the last Shadow war. But I was told that if I do not resist or betray myself, the Eye will let me pass.”
“Told by whom?”
“By a Vorlon,” he raised a hand. “Yes, I know they had shown themselves more than a little dubious lately, but this particular one was always different (*). I am willing to give him the benefit of doubt.”
“It is our lives you’re bargaining with,” she reminded him.
“Nothing truly important has ever been easy,” he replied cryptically.
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
Present time
Doctor Hobbs switched off the cryo-tube and Bester watched in fascination as the little alien pixie placed her fingertips on the dark face of the unconscious patient in what seemed a distinct pattern. She must have felt his curiosity because she glanced at him over one fragile shoulder.
“Vulcan mind-meld is initiated by connecting with certain nerve endings in the face,” she explained. “It is easier for them to control the meld this way.”
“But we can’t touch him like that both,” Bester pointed out.
“There is no need,” she replied. “It’s enough if you touch me - without the gloves, though.”
That made sense, actually. Skin contact always intensified telepathic connection. Still, he felt oddly vulnerable when he removed the black glove from his good hand with the help of his left elbow and laid his palm on the girl’s bare arm.
The gesture was more intimate than any of the mundanes surrounding them could even begin to understand. Although the alien ensign might have had an idea, being a telepath herself.
His eyes drifted closed as he shut out the agitated thoughts of the mundanes around them, gazing at the darkness behind his eyelids, aware of the angle of lighting in MedLab One that came through as a faint glow.
The glow then began to fade as his mind extended itself to the alien girl. Thoughts began blending gently like tidal waves moving in and out.
The girl’s voice was low and gentle, barely more than a whisper. The words of some strange mantra sifted through the filaments of both their minds.
“Your mind to my mind… your thoughts to my thoughts… I’m taking us back… back to the battle where we both faced the enemy… where we both faced darkness…”
Was this all there was to it?
Bester’s mind began to clear after just a brief swim. He opened his eyes, wondering if the process had gone wrong - and found himself standing in a dark alien wasteland. The howling wind whipped sand across his face; it burned in his eyes. It was night, and there were no stars on the sky, or a moon; and yet the rolling sand dunes that stretched into every direction towards the dark horizon were illuminated by an eerie violet glow.
Where are we? He asked the girl who was standing next to him, her fragile shape battered by the wind.
In Tuvok’s mind, she replied. But - but he’s not here! Why is he not here?
I assume he’s withdrawn deeply into himself, Bester said. People do that when they’re traumatised.
But how can we find him?
The girl was beginning to panic. The raw, untamed power that was her very being roiled dangerously, and Bester wondered if all these mundanes knew they had a ticking time bomb in their midst.
Probably not. Mundanes were, as a rule, infuriatingly clueless. In some cases that fact served his purposes just fine. In other cases, like this one… not so much.
He needed to calm the girl down, as soon as possible. A mind-quake of this magnitude could kill them both - and probably tear the MedLabs in pieces.
Think! He said with authority. You brought us here. Why?
Tuvok needs to reconstruct the traumatic memory in its entirety, she explained, using scientific steps to get herself under control. By facing the horrors of the Shadow encounter rather than avoiding the memory, he can begin to overcome his fear and anger and other emotional responses a Vulcan isn’t supposed to have. Only by reintegrating the memory into his conscious mind will he be free of the destructive emotions associated with it - or so the Doctor told me.
I understand that, Bester said, choosing not to ask who the Doctor was; for now. But why here?
I don’t know, she admitted. I wanted to go back to the battle in Sector 83; it was there he faced the Shadows and lost control over his psionic powers. But this isn’t Sector 83.
What is it then? He asked.
I don’t know. I’ve never seen this place. But it’s a desert and a sand storm, so it has to be Vulcan.
Vulcan?
His home planet. Perhaps his mind instinctively fled home.
Not a very welcoming place, he commented. Perhaps the storm and the darkness are manifestations of his mental state, though. In which case he could still be fighting the Shadows in his mind.
Or dying, she said glumly.
No, I don’t think so, he said with a mental headshake. This is nothing like any of the deathbed scans I’ve performed. No, I believe he’s still fighting - and losing. He’ll need help.
But how could we help? I can’t feel him!
You’ve faced the Shadows, too, haven’t you: Can you find them? Perhaps that way we can also find your mentor.
I can try, she replied with renewed hope and he could feel her powers bundle like a thousand laser rays.
And then she began to glow.
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
Janeway, Lillian and Crisa Jurot watched the three profoundly different telepaths locked in the meld with increasing concern. Tuvok, although no longer sedated, was still unconscious, yet convulsing and sweating profoundly. Bester was deathly pale, stiff like a statue, his good hand clamped on Kes’s slender arm like a vice.
And Kes… she was clearly concentrating fiercely, a sheet of pale golden energy surrounding her. First just the outlines of her body; then it extended into a large ball of glowing energy, enveloping both Tuvok and Bester, like the shields would envelop a starship under attack.
And that was the moment when they saw it: a monstrous, violet-black creature with an erect upper body, sporting razor-sharp shoulder spines; a triangular head with fourteen glowing red eyes divided into four groups, two sets slanted upward and two sets arranged to align perfectly under the first sets. The… thing had a pair of spiked, grasping forelimbs and three pairs of spider-like legs supporting its rear.
And it was huge: its spiny head touched the ceiling as it towered over them, and it was almost physically emanating malevolence. Its posture reminded them of a prying mantis right before grabbing its prey.
“Wait!” Ensign Jurot said, holding back Janeway who was reaching for her phaser. “It is not real; just a projection.”
“What do you mean?” Lillian asked in confusion.
“One of them must be a psychoprojective telepath,” Jurot explained. “Such people do exist, although they are extremely rare; and I’ve never heard of a human one before. Basically, we see what they are seeing at this very moment. Is this one of those Shadow creatures?”
Lillian shrugged. “I never saw one; but what else could it be? Both Kes and Commander Tuvok faced them in battle.”
“All right, so it can’t harm us,” Janeway said. “Can it harm them?”
“It is possible,” Jurot allowed. “It’s up to Commander Tuvok now. If he accepts Kes’s help and manages to put his memories in the right perspective, all will be well.”
“And if he can’t?”
“Then it can become very ugly,” Jurot said. “If the commander has no control over his suppressed powers, Kes won’t be able to control hers, either; and what Mr. Bester is capable of is an unknown factor. I hope the station won’t fall to pieces.”
Her words were interrupted by the horrible shriek of the creature she assumed was a mere projection. The bone-chilling sound was as much mental as auditory, and there was no way to cut it off. It went on and on for endless seconds - then the Shadow image began to warble and dissolved into black smoke that, too, faded away without a trace.
In the next moment Kes’s hands fell away from Tuvok’s face. The Vulcan opened his eyes, looking up into the face of Bester, still slightly confused.
“Admiral Chekov?” he asked in an utterly emotionless manner only a very surprised Vulcan could display. “What are you doing here, sir?”
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
In his quarters in the alien sector Ambassador Ulkesh of the Vorlons stiffened in his protective suit… well, the mental equivalent of it, being a purely energy-based life-form. There had been a considerable release of psychic energy somewhere within the station, and for a fleeting moment he had the impression that he could feel Kosh’s presence.
But that was impossible. Kosh was dead, and what little might have remained of him went to Z’ha’dum with that arrogant human, to be erased for good. They had to accept his loss and move on… towards restoring order and eliminating chaos in the universe - no matter the costs.
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
(*) Galen means Kosh, of course