Kansas 2 - The Yellow Brick Road, Part 19
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 background on the Ocampa is entirely my doing - I just find it unbelievable that they would only live nine years, procreate only once in their life and still haven’t died out completely. So I thought we would need a better reason for these things. Feel free to disagree.
To the psychic powers of Vulcans: It is established in Diane Duane’s Spock’s World that early Vulcans indeed possessed incredible psionic powers that got lost during their evolution. I bent book canon a bit to make Tuvok’s actions possible.
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
PART 19 - 15 December 2260
At the edge of Sector 83 the White Star was still waiting silently for a sign of Shadow activity. Marcus was sitting in the command chair and watched the tactical display with the patience of a sphinx - not that Rastenn would have the proper references to make that comparison.
However, what he did have was a great familiarity with Minbari tactical systems, and thus he was the first to spot the small object that was just coming into sensor range.
“There,” he said. “What is that?”
“Definitely a ship,” Marcus ordered a scan and frowned at the results. “Scanners indicate it's composed of materials similar to the Shadow vessels, but smaller.”
“A scout ship?” Tuvok offered, watching the spidery image on the tactical display.
Marcus nodded. “Our opposite number. Sent in to make sure the area is clear before the main armada comes in.” He hit the intercom button. “Ivanova to bridge. Ivanova to bridge.”
Ivanova couldn’t have been asleep yet because she came running within a few minutes. “Are they here?”
“Not exactly,” Marcus relinquished the command chair and stepped forward to get close to the tactical display, “but you'd better take a look at this. We picked it up a few minutes ago.”
Ivanova stepped up next to him. “It looks even more spidery than the big battle-crabs,” she stated. ”And it's close. Has it seen us yet?”
Marcus glanced at the Minbari crewman sitting at Tactical; the Minbari shook his head.
“I don't think so,” the Ranger then said. “We're not picking up any transmissions.”
“It is fortunate that we spotted the ship just as we were about to correct course to stay in the shadow of that moon,” Rastenn added, generously not mentioning the fact that it was he who had spotted the enemy vessel. Even so, Ivanova did not take his interference kindly.
“Well good, don't!” she replied impatiently. “It can read the energy if we use the engines. It would be like sending up a flare!"
Not for the first time since his original assignment to Babylon 5, Rastenn wondered why would humans feel the urge to state the glaringly obvious. All of them. All the time. It had to be a genetic defect, shared by the entire species.
“Yes, but unfortunately, we're about to move out of eclipse,” Marcus pointed out, “and as soon as we're out in the light...”
The bright sunlight suddenly falling through the bridge windows interrupted him. The ship had moved out of the shadow already.
“Oh, hell!” Ivanova yelled. “Maintain stations!”
They both ran for their stations. Recognizing the unique chance he might never get again, Rastenn hurried to the currently unmanned communications station, trying to figure out if it worked any differently than the ones on a Sharlin-class warship.
Meanwhile, the Shadow scout had changed course abruptly.
“It's seen us!” Ivanova added something in Russian that made Tuvok raise an eyebrow; the universal translator was programmed with all major Earth languages, after all.
The Minbari crewman at Tactical said something in Adronato.
“Picking up a transmission!” Marcus translated. “Looks like a warning signal.”
“Jam it!” Ivanova ordered. “Engines at maximum! We have to stop it before it can warn the others!”
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
Having materialized aboard the Ingata, Chakotay looked around and couldn’t help being impressed. He was standing in the middle of a large, dark, open expanse with something like a huge grey umbrella overhead that shone spotlights directly down onto him and Neroon - the only people currently present.
“What is this place?” he asked in awe.
“Tactical centre,” Neroon replied. “From here we can keep track of the battle.”
“How?” Chakotay asked. “I don't see any displays!”
“You will see when the time comes,” Neroon pushed a rotating chair at him. “Sit. You are still weak, and you’ll be of no use to me if you faint in the middle of the battle.”
“I doubt I’d be all that useful even if I don’t faint,” Chakotay replied dryly but he took the chair with relief. “I’m not familiar with your technology; or with that of the Shadows. That’s why I asked for this chance: to see both first-hand.”
“You don’t need to be familiar with our technology; we are,” Neroon said. “But I am told that humans are more flexible in their thinking than we are. I do not know if that is true; but if it is, I am willing to use it to our advantage. Your insights may prove helpful; you are used to fight against overwhelming odds.”
“Is that what we’re gonna do here?” Chakotay asked. “Fighting against overwhelming odds?”
“I am afraid so,” Neroon said. “Our only advantage is the element of surprise; and even so, it will be brutal.”
“I’ll do what I can to help,” Chakotay promised. “Anything yet from Commander Ivanova?”
“No,” Neroon replied. “It probably means the enemy hasn't appeared yet.”
“What about the rest of the fleet? Are they moving out already?”
Neroon nodded. “According to Lennier, the other White Star-class ships have been alerted. They'll meet us at the other end.”
“And your own cruisers?”
“They are already on their way, waiting for Rastenn’s distress call. Each one has at least one telepath on board to help them slow down the enemy.”
“That is good,” Chakotay said. “But do you have a strong enough telepath on your ship?”
“The Ingata does have a telepath assigned to her all the time; all Minbari warships have,” Neroon explained. “I cannot tell if he is strong enough to block a ship of the Sher’shok Dum; but fortunately, we have just got reinforcements in that area,” he turned slightly to the left. “You can come out now, little one.”
Another spotlight shone down from the ‘umbrella’, and illuminated - to Chakotay’s shocked surprise - the small, fragile shape of Kes.
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
Meanwhile the White Star was chasing the Shadow scout relentlessly. Rastenn had to admit that the secret shipyards of the Religious Caste had done an excellent job; no other Minbari vessel would be able to keep up this speed any longer than a few seconds.
“I have never been on a ship this fast,” he murmured to Tuvok who was standing nearby, keeping an eye on the tactical display from afar. Vulcan eyesight made it quite easy for him.
The Vulcan nodded in agreement. “And the structural integrity does not seem to suffer from it,” he said. “Impressive. I do not think the Shadow vessel will be able to outrun us.”
The pilot of the Shadow scout must have come to the same conclusion because the little ship suddenly flipped end-for-end and fired, scoring some hits.
“Direct hits on Decks Two and Three,” Rastenn reported, checking the automated damage reports that came in through the communications console. “No damage.”
“Keep on his tail!” Ivanova instructed Marcus. “If he gets out of jamming range, we've had it! Stand by weapons systems! Prepare to fire!”
“What happens if the scout does not report in?” Tuvok asked, while Marcus acknowledged his orders with a terse nod. “Would that not raise suspicions by the Shadow fleet?”
“I don't know, but I do know what'll happen if he gets away!” Ivanova replied. “Let's just hope they were only supposed to break radio silence if there was a problem.”
Tuvok shook his head slowly, thoughtfully. “That is highly unlikely, assuming that the manoeuvres of the entire fleet depend on this single scout.”
“Look, we can discuss this later, when we’ll have the time for it; assuming there will be a ‘later’,” Ivanova turned to Marcus. “Stand by! Fire!”
Marcus pushed a button, and they all watched on the tactical display as the White Star's beams sliced off two of the little spider's ‘legs’. The scout tumbled, then righted itself and charged the White Star.
“It's gonna ram us!” Marcus yelled.
“Hard to port!” Ivanova ordered. “Fire!”
Precious seconds were wasted while Marcus translated the orders to the Minbari crew, making Rastenn wonder about the stupidity of assigning people to the ship who did dot speak English. Every Warrior serving on Minbari warships had been instructed to learn the official language of EarthGov, fort he express reason of preventing such tragic misunderstandings as the one that had started the Earth-Minbari war. One would have expected that the Religious Caste - the one with the most contact to humans and not exactly blameless in starting aforementioned Earth-Minbari war - would take the same precautions.
Clearly, one would have been wrong with that expectation.
And indeed, the short delay was enough for the scout to complete its kamikaze run and impale itself on the frigate's nose. The White Star shuddered violently.
“Damage report!” Ivanova yelled.
“Engines hit,” Rastenn reported calmly. “Automatic repair systems engaged. Repairs will take approximately…”
“Wait a minute!” Marcus interrupted his report. “I'm picking up an energy surge. Distance: five thousand kilometres!”
“Show me!” Ivanova ordered.
Marcus relied the order to the crewman at Tactical, and they all watched with the sinking feeling of inevitable doom as on the tactical display dozens of Shadow battle-crabs and fighters began to ripple into normal space.
Then more.
And still more.
“That's a lot of ships!” Ivanova said in a low voice.
“That's a bloody awful lot of ships,” Marcus agreed, all levity gone from his voice, and for the moment Rastenn could not blame either human for stating the obvious.
The Shadow fleet was indeed huge. Much larger than estimated. Too large for them, even with the cruisers of the Star Raiders and the League ships entering the battle.
“Jump engines back on line yet?” Ivanova asked tonelessly.
Marcus shook his head. “No.”
“But communications does work,” Tuvok pointed out. “Captain Sheridan needs to be alerted that the enemy has arrived, or he will lose the moment of surprise.”
“Yeah, but if I signal the fleet, this lot might pick it up,” Marcus reminded him. “If they do and we can't get away…”
“… we shall be the first ones to die,” Tuvok finished for him. “We all knew that when we accepted this assignment. Now we must act. The needs of the many outweigh the needs of the few.”
Ivanova shrugged. “True enough; besides, who wants to live forever?”
“I do, actually,” Marcus replied in mock exasperation, but his hand was moving towards the button already. “But what the hell?” he pressed a button. “Signal away!”
As everyone was watching on the tactical display he Shadow fleet move closer, Rastenn used his chance. He inserted the small data crystal into the slot on the communication console and sent the distress call.
He did not notice the dark, observant eyes of the Vulcan following his every move.
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
“Kes?” Chakotay stared at the fairly-like girl in utter shock. “What are you doing here?”
Kes gave him a gentle smile. “The same thing as you, Commander. I am trying to help.”
“Does Tuvok know that you’re here?” Chakotay asked. “Or the Captain, for that matter?”
Kes shook her head. “No; for they would have objected.”
“And rightly so,” Chakotay said. “The battlefield is no place for people like you. You’re no solider; and way too young anyway-“
“That is not true,” Kes replied calmly. “By the measure of my people I am an adult; and I know what I’m doing. None of you have any idea what my people are capable of when we’re allowed to unfold our full potential. Not even Tuvok; which is why he tends to be a bit over-protective. But this is not his decisions; or yours or the captain’s. It is mine; and I know that I’ll be needed here.”
“How can you possibly know that?” Chakotay shook his head. “Are you now seeing the future, too?”
“No,” she replied simply. “I know it because the ship showed me.”
After a moment of confusion Chakotay understood what she meant… and bleached.
“The Vorlon ship?”
Kes nodded. “It keeps calling to me, all the time, and since I cannot read its thoughts - at least not yet - it has shown images to me.”
“What kind of images?”
“Of the Shadows; how they operate, what they capable of are, what is their true agenda,” she shuddered. “It was terrifying.”
“And you still decided to come with us and face them?”
“Yes. Because I can only evolve if I face challenges that bring me to the brink of my abilities.”
“Evolve,” Chakotay repeated slowly. “Is this something like what the Caretaker’s mate did with the Ocampa who lived on her array?”
Kes shook her head, her face turning unexpectedly hard all of a sudden. “No. In fact, Suspiria was hindering them in their evolution by lengthening their life span.”
“How that?” Chakotay asked with a frown.
“We were meant to have such a short physical existence,” Kes explained. “This is - or rather was, before the Caretaker destroyed the biosphere of our planet - only the first phase of our existence; a cocoon, if you want, which should have broken up after nine local years, allowing us to become beings of pure energy. Only that after the destruction of our environment we no longer had the strength for the transformation. We were - our entire species - like larvae dying in their cocoons.”
“You never told us any of this,” Chakotay said.
“Because I didn’t know,” Kes replied. “Five hundred local years have gone by since the arrival of the Caretaker. That means many, many generations, and we kept devolving with every new one. Things got forgotten; just like our mental abilities.”
“So how comes that you know it now?” Chakotay asked.
“It was the Vorlon ship,” Kes explained. “It tapped into the racial memory every Ocampa carries in their subconscious. It showed me many things from the past of my people. Now I remember - well, sort of - what we once were and what we could become again.”
“And the way to that leads through the confrontation with the most dangerous creatures of this universe?” Chakotay asked doubtfully.
“Right now, right here… yes, it does,” Kes’s smile was calm and serene as if she could see things that remained unseen to everyone else. “There will be other tests and challenges later, of that I am certain. But first I have to face this one.”
Chakotay still wasn’t quite buying it, but their conversation was interrupted by the Minbari Warrior at the communications station.
“Alyt Neroon, we are receiving the appointed signal,” he said. “The Sher’shok Dum have arrived.”
“Finally,” Neroon said. “Synchronize our moves with the Dogato and prepare to jump. Siarann, put the ship on battle alert. We are going in.”
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
Meanwhile - deprived of the use of its engines - the White Star was still lying dead in space in Sector 83.
“Engines?” Ivanova demanded.
“Not yet,” Marcus replied grimly.
Everyone was eyeing the tactical display in concern, with the exception of Tuvok whose face was as expressionless as only that of a deeply troubled Vulcan could be.
“They're getting closer,” Ivanova muttered.
Marcus rolled his eyes. “I know.”
“In my estimate they are three hours from this system's target,” Tuvok offered, having made the necessary calculations in his head.
“Which means less than twenty minutes from us,” Marcus added.
“That is correct,” the Vulcan agreed. “However, that is enough time for young Rastenn here to tell us whom he sent that message when he thought himself unwatched - and why.”
Before Rastenn could have even thought of an answer, there was a blur crossing the command deck, and a denn’bok swished open, one end pressing against his vulnerable throat. Clearly, he had underestimated the speed and the reflexes of the human Anla’shok.
“Yes, Rastenn,” the human said with eerie calm. “Why don’t you tell us what the hell you were doing?”
“You should not press the pike so hard against his throat,” Tuvok commented calmly. “He will have difficulties speaking that way.”
“Tough,” Marcus didn’t back off an inch. “He should try anyway; before I start pressing even harder. So Rastenn; last chance to tell the truth before I send you beyond the sea.”
Which, as Tuvok knew from the files about Minbari culture sent to Voyager by Delenn, was the equivalent of death.
“I would like… to see you try…” Rastenn had indeed difficulties to speak with the denn’bok pressed against his throat.
His hands were free, though, and his reflexes lightning-fast. In a second, he managed to grab the denn’bok aimed at him and to twist it from Marcus’s hands, thanks to his superior strength. The human had not expected such a move; not from a Minbari warrior used to traditional (and rather rigid) fighting techniques, and now he was pinned against the console by his own weapon.
“Better,” Rastenn declared in dark satisfaction; then he shot the Minbari crew a warning look. “Stay where you are or I will kill him on the spot,” he said in Adronato, before switching back to English for Ivanova’s sake, although he aimed his words at the Vulcan. “As to your question, Commander: I sent a distress call on a secret frequency used by warships of my own Clan only.”
“What for?” Ivanova nearly exploded.
“My uncle decided that fighting the Sher’shok Dum on your side would be the needful thing to do,” Rastenn explained, still holding Marcus at the denn’bok’s end. But he could not disobey Shai Alyt Shakiri’s direct order of non-interference. Not openly. However, if a group of Star Rider warships on patrol received a distress call from the Clan leader’s heir - that would be me - they would be entitled, no, obliged to answer that call,” he closed the denn’bok and handed it back to the human. “Satisfied?”
“How many ships are we talking about?” Ivanova asked.
“Unfortunately, only a standard patrol unit of six Sharlin-class cruisers and their fighters,” Rastenn answered. “We had to keep up appearances; and we still have to perform our duties as part of the border patrol. The Moon Shields are sending ships as well, but those might not arrive in time.”
“Still, six heavy cruisers mean a lot of trained Warriors,” Marcus said, forcing his anger back under control. “You could have said something, you know.”
Rastenn raised a hairless eyebrow. “And would Commander Ivanova have listened?”
The question was clearly rhetoric, so Marcus didn’t even bother to answer. Instead, he returned to his station to check their situation again. There wasn’t much change. The mammoth fleet of Shadow ships was still closing in.
“A little longer and we'll have power to engines,” he said, daring to hope again, at least a little bit. “We...”at this moment an alarm went off and his hope died at once. “Uh-oh!”
Everyone turned to the tactical display that showed one of the big battle-crabs, which had suddenly changed course, heading directly for the White Star.
“One of them has picked us up, moving to intercept,” Marcus stated… rather unnecessarily, truth be told.
Ivanova’s face froze into a mask of grim determination.
“Okay, this is it,” she said. “Stand by to…”
“Wait!” Marcus interrupted, turning to Tuvok. “Commander, you’ve come to see if your telepathic abilities are of any use against the Shadow vessels, right?”
“That is correct,” the Vulcan replied.
“Well…” no time like the present,” Marcus suggested. “It isn’t so as if we had any other choices.”
“I don’t understand,” Ivanova frowned. “I thought Vulcans were touch-telepaths; you can hardly touch one of those ships.”
“Most of us can indeed only establish telepathic contact through touch,” Tuvok agreed. “In fact, we have been trained to do so; to keep out the thoughts of others. However, a small minority - mostly those from the desert clans of the Forge - have still inherited the psionic powers of our ancestors.”
“And you never use it?” Rastenn found that hard to understand. Why would someone - anyone - give up a weapon that could not be detected… or taken away by the enemy and against which there was practically no protection?
“It is a dangerous gift we spend our entire lives to learn how to control,” Tuvok replied simply. “Sometimes we fail, and the results are… unfortunate. There were times in which we nearly exterminated our entire species due to our uncontrollable psionic powers.”
“I hate to interrupt the history lesson,” Marcus cut in, “but that Shadow ship is about to come into weapons range; and then we’ll be history. So, if you can do anything, Commander, I suggest that you do it now.”
“I shall try my best,” Tuvok promised and closed his eyes.
He could not tell for certain whether he would be able to hold their attacker back. The Shadows were an unknown factor and they might well be much stronger than him. But he came from a bloodline the members of which had been able to move monolithic blocks of stone with their mind or kill people with a mere thought. The raw power to do so had been suppressed and held under tight control since the Reformation, of course, and opening the floodgates, to borrow a human expression, could be dangerous… for him as well as for the others around him. The backlash could, in the extreme case, destroy the entire ship.
But that was a risk he had to take; otherwise they would be dead within minutes. So he concentrated and began to slowly, carefully release the powers roiling inside him, under the tight control he had been keeping them since his early childhood. There had been a reason why he had spent most of his youth in a monastery, among the Kolinahr adepts, learning their iron discipline.
He could feel the power rising within him like a hot tide; like the magma in an erupting volcano. He could not have held it back now, not even if he tried. Not any longer. All he could do was to focus the mental firestorm and aim its destructive force at the Shadow vessel.
Focus - aim - release. He was in control (barely), riding the tide of the dark fire, bundling its tendrils into one thick, destructive beam, lashing out at the enemy that wanted to destroy them, just because it could.
“Kroykah!” he hissed through gritted teeth and humans and Minbari watched in shocked surprise as the huge Shadow battlecrab suddenly exploded into a million tiny, glowing bits like some gigantic firecracker.
In the next moment Tuvok hit the floor of the command deck, his entire strength spent. The firestorm inside him was extinguished and darkness engulfed him.
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 background on the Ocampa is entirely my doing - I just find it unbelievable that they would only live nine years, procreate only once in their life and still haven’t died out completely. So I thought we would need a better reason for these things. Feel free to disagree.
To the psychic powers of Vulcans: It is established in Diane Duane’s Spock’s World that early Vulcans indeed possessed incredible psionic powers that got lost during their evolution. I bent book canon a bit to make Tuvok’s actions possible.
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
PART 19 - 15 December 2260
At the edge of Sector 83 the White Star was still waiting silently for a sign of Shadow activity. Marcus was sitting in the command chair and watched the tactical display with the patience of a sphinx - not that Rastenn would have the proper references to make that comparison.
However, what he did have was a great familiarity with Minbari tactical systems, and thus he was the first to spot the small object that was just coming into sensor range.
“There,” he said. “What is that?”
“Definitely a ship,” Marcus ordered a scan and frowned at the results. “Scanners indicate it's composed of materials similar to the Shadow vessels, but smaller.”
“A scout ship?” Tuvok offered, watching the spidery image on the tactical display.
Marcus nodded. “Our opposite number. Sent in to make sure the area is clear before the main armada comes in.” He hit the intercom button. “Ivanova to bridge. Ivanova to bridge.”
Ivanova couldn’t have been asleep yet because she came running within a few minutes. “Are they here?”
“Not exactly,” Marcus relinquished the command chair and stepped forward to get close to the tactical display, “but you'd better take a look at this. We picked it up a few minutes ago.”
Ivanova stepped up next to him. “It looks even more spidery than the big battle-crabs,” she stated. ”And it's close. Has it seen us yet?”
Marcus glanced at the Minbari crewman sitting at Tactical; the Minbari shook his head.
“I don't think so,” the Ranger then said. “We're not picking up any transmissions.”
“It is fortunate that we spotted the ship just as we were about to correct course to stay in the shadow of that moon,” Rastenn added, generously not mentioning the fact that it was he who had spotted the enemy vessel. Even so, Ivanova did not take his interference kindly.
“Well good, don't!” she replied impatiently. “It can read the energy if we use the engines. It would be like sending up a flare!"
Not for the first time since his original assignment to Babylon 5, Rastenn wondered why would humans feel the urge to state the glaringly obvious. All of them. All the time. It had to be a genetic defect, shared by the entire species.
“Yes, but unfortunately, we're about to move out of eclipse,” Marcus pointed out, “and as soon as we're out in the light...”
The bright sunlight suddenly falling through the bridge windows interrupted him. The ship had moved out of the shadow already.
“Oh, hell!” Ivanova yelled. “Maintain stations!”
They both ran for their stations. Recognizing the unique chance he might never get again, Rastenn hurried to the currently unmanned communications station, trying to figure out if it worked any differently than the ones on a Sharlin-class warship.
Meanwhile, the Shadow scout had changed course abruptly.
“It's seen us!” Ivanova added something in Russian that made Tuvok raise an eyebrow; the universal translator was programmed with all major Earth languages, after all.
The Minbari crewman at Tactical said something in Adronato.
“Picking up a transmission!” Marcus translated. “Looks like a warning signal.”
“Jam it!” Ivanova ordered. “Engines at maximum! We have to stop it before it can warn the others!”
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
Having materialized aboard the Ingata, Chakotay looked around and couldn’t help being impressed. He was standing in the middle of a large, dark, open expanse with something like a huge grey umbrella overhead that shone spotlights directly down onto him and Neroon - the only people currently present.
“What is this place?” he asked in awe.
“Tactical centre,” Neroon replied. “From here we can keep track of the battle.”
“How?” Chakotay asked. “I don't see any displays!”
“You will see when the time comes,” Neroon pushed a rotating chair at him. “Sit. You are still weak, and you’ll be of no use to me if you faint in the middle of the battle.”
“I doubt I’d be all that useful even if I don’t faint,” Chakotay replied dryly but he took the chair with relief. “I’m not familiar with your technology; or with that of the Shadows. That’s why I asked for this chance: to see both first-hand.”
“You don’t need to be familiar with our technology; we are,” Neroon said. “But I am told that humans are more flexible in their thinking than we are. I do not know if that is true; but if it is, I am willing to use it to our advantage. Your insights may prove helpful; you are used to fight against overwhelming odds.”
“Is that what we’re gonna do here?” Chakotay asked. “Fighting against overwhelming odds?”
“I am afraid so,” Neroon said. “Our only advantage is the element of surprise; and even so, it will be brutal.”
“I’ll do what I can to help,” Chakotay promised. “Anything yet from Commander Ivanova?”
“No,” Neroon replied. “It probably means the enemy hasn't appeared yet.”
“What about the rest of the fleet? Are they moving out already?”
Neroon nodded. “According to Lennier, the other White Star-class ships have been alerted. They'll meet us at the other end.”
“And your own cruisers?”
“They are already on their way, waiting for Rastenn’s distress call. Each one has at least one telepath on board to help them slow down the enemy.”
“That is good,” Chakotay said. “But do you have a strong enough telepath on your ship?”
“The Ingata does have a telepath assigned to her all the time; all Minbari warships have,” Neroon explained. “I cannot tell if he is strong enough to block a ship of the Sher’shok Dum; but fortunately, we have just got reinforcements in that area,” he turned slightly to the left. “You can come out now, little one.”
Another spotlight shone down from the ‘umbrella’, and illuminated - to Chakotay’s shocked surprise - the small, fragile shape of Kes.
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
Meanwhile the White Star was chasing the Shadow scout relentlessly. Rastenn had to admit that the secret shipyards of the Religious Caste had done an excellent job; no other Minbari vessel would be able to keep up this speed any longer than a few seconds.
“I have never been on a ship this fast,” he murmured to Tuvok who was standing nearby, keeping an eye on the tactical display from afar. Vulcan eyesight made it quite easy for him.
The Vulcan nodded in agreement. “And the structural integrity does not seem to suffer from it,” he said. “Impressive. I do not think the Shadow vessel will be able to outrun us.”
The pilot of the Shadow scout must have come to the same conclusion because the little ship suddenly flipped end-for-end and fired, scoring some hits.
“Direct hits on Decks Two and Three,” Rastenn reported, checking the automated damage reports that came in through the communications console. “No damage.”
“Keep on his tail!” Ivanova instructed Marcus. “If he gets out of jamming range, we've had it! Stand by weapons systems! Prepare to fire!”
“What happens if the scout does not report in?” Tuvok asked, while Marcus acknowledged his orders with a terse nod. “Would that not raise suspicions by the Shadow fleet?”
“I don't know, but I do know what'll happen if he gets away!” Ivanova replied. “Let's just hope they were only supposed to break radio silence if there was a problem.”
Tuvok shook his head slowly, thoughtfully. “That is highly unlikely, assuming that the manoeuvres of the entire fleet depend on this single scout.”
“Look, we can discuss this later, when we’ll have the time for it; assuming there will be a ‘later’,” Ivanova turned to Marcus. “Stand by! Fire!”
Marcus pushed a button, and they all watched on the tactical display as the White Star's beams sliced off two of the little spider's ‘legs’. The scout tumbled, then righted itself and charged the White Star.
“It's gonna ram us!” Marcus yelled.
“Hard to port!” Ivanova ordered. “Fire!”
Precious seconds were wasted while Marcus translated the orders to the Minbari crew, making Rastenn wonder about the stupidity of assigning people to the ship who did dot speak English. Every Warrior serving on Minbari warships had been instructed to learn the official language of EarthGov, fort he express reason of preventing such tragic misunderstandings as the one that had started the Earth-Minbari war. One would have expected that the Religious Caste - the one with the most contact to humans and not exactly blameless in starting aforementioned Earth-Minbari war - would take the same precautions.
Clearly, one would have been wrong with that expectation.
And indeed, the short delay was enough for the scout to complete its kamikaze run and impale itself on the frigate's nose. The White Star shuddered violently.
“Damage report!” Ivanova yelled.
“Engines hit,” Rastenn reported calmly. “Automatic repair systems engaged. Repairs will take approximately…”
“Wait a minute!” Marcus interrupted his report. “I'm picking up an energy surge. Distance: five thousand kilometres!”
“Show me!” Ivanova ordered.
Marcus relied the order to the crewman at Tactical, and they all watched with the sinking feeling of inevitable doom as on the tactical display dozens of Shadow battle-crabs and fighters began to ripple into normal space.
Then more.
And still more.
“That's a lot of ships!” Ivanova said in a low voice.
“That's a bloody awful lot of ships,” Marcus agreed, all levity gone from his voice, and for the moment Rastenn could not blame either human for stating the obvious.
The Shadow fleet was indeed huge. Much larger than estimated. Too large for them, even with the cruisers of the Star Raiders and the League ships entering the battle.
“Jump engines back on line yet?” Ivanova asked tonelessly.
Marcus shook his head. “No.”
“But communications does work,” Tuvok pointed out. “Captain Sheridan needs to be alerted that the enemy has arrived, or he will lose the moment of surprise.”
“Yeah, but if I signal the fleet, this lot might pick it up,” Marcus reminded him. “If they do and we can't get away…”
“… we shall be the first ones to die,” Tuvok finished for him. “We all knew that when we accepted this assignment. Now we must act. The needs of the many outweigh the needs of the few.”
Ivanova shrugged. “True enough; besides, who wants to live forever?”
“I do, actually,” Marcus replied in mock exasperation, but his hand was moving towards the button already. “But what the hell?” he pressed a button. “Signal away!”
As everyone was watching on the tactical display he Shadow fleet move closer, Rastenn used his chance. He inserted the small data crystal into the slot on the communication console and sent the distress call.
He did not notice the dark, observant eyes of the Vulcan following his every move.
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
“Kes?” Chakotay stared at the fairly-like girl in utter shock. “What are you doing here?”
Kes gave him a gentle smile. “The same thing as you, Commander. I am trying to help.”
“Does Tuvok know that you’re here?” Chakotay asked. “Or the Captain, for that matter?”
Kes shook her head. “No; for they would have objected.”
“And rightly so,” Chakotay said. “The battlefield is no place for people like you. You’re no solider; and way too young anyway-“
“That is not true,” Kes replied calmly. “By the measure of my people I am an adult; and I know what I’m doing. None of you have any idea what my people are capable of when we’re allowed to unfold our full potential. Not even Tuvok; which is why he tends to be a bit over-protective. But this is not his decisions; or yours or the captain’s. It is mine; and I know that I’ll be needed here.”
“How can you possibly know that?” Chakotay shook his head. “Are you now seeing the future, too?”
“No,” she replied simply. “I know it because the ship showed me.”
After a moment of confusion Chakotay understood what she meant… and bleached.
“The Vorlon ship?”
Kes nodded. “It keeps calling to me, all the time, and since I cannot read its thoughts - at least not yet - it has shown images to me.”
“What kind of images?”
“Of the Shadows; how they operate, what they capable of are, what is their true agenda,” she shuddered. “It was terrifying.”
“And you still decided to come with us and face them?”
“Yes. Because I can only evolve if I face challenges that bring me to the brink of my abilities.”
“Evolve,” Chakotay repeated slowly. “Is this something like what the Caretaker’s mate did with the Ocampa who lived on her array?”
Kes shook her head, her face turning unexpectedly hard all of a sudden. “No. In fact, Suspiria was hindering them in their evolution by lengthening their life span.”
“How that?” Chakotay asked with a frown.
“We were meant to have such a short physical existence,” Kes explained. “This is - or rather was, before the Caretaker destroyed the biosphere of our planet - only the first phase of our existence; a cocoon, if you want, which should have broken up after nine local years, allowing us to become beings of pure energy. Only that after the destruction of our environment we no longer had the strength for the transformation. We were - our entire species - like larvae dying in their cocoons.”
“You never told us any of this,” Chakotay said.
“Because I didn’t know,” Kes replied. “Five hundred local years have gone by since the arrival of the Caretaker. That means many, many generations, and we kept devolving with every new one. Things got forgotten; just like our mental abilities.”
“So how comes that you know it now?” Chakotay asked.
“It was the Vorlon ship,” Kes explained. “It tapped into the racial memory every Ocampa carries in their subconscious. It showed me many things from the past of my people. Now I remember - well, sort of - what we once were and what we could become again.”
“And the way to that leads through the confrontation with the most dangerous creatures of this universe?” Chakotay asked doubtfully.
“Right now, right here… yes, it does,” Kes’s smile was calm and serene as if she could see things that remained unseen to everyone else. “There will be other tests and challenges later, of that I am certain. But first I have to face this one.”
Chakotay still wasn’t quite buying it, but their conversation was interrupted by the Minbari Warrior at the communications station.
“Alyt Neroon, we are receiving the appointed signal,” he said. “The Sher’shok Dum have arrived.”
“Finally,” Neroon said. “Synchronize our moves with the Dogato and prepare to jump. Siarann, put the ship on battle alert. We are going in.”
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
Meanwhile - deprived of the use of its engines - the White Star was still lying dead in space in Sector 83.
“Engines?” Ivanova demanded.
“Not yet,” Marcus replied grimly.
Everyone was eyeing the tactical display in concern, with the exception of Tuvok whose face was as expressionless as only that of a deeply troubled Vulcan could be.
“They're getting closer,” Ivanova muttered.
Marcus rolled his eyes. “I know.”
“In my estimate they are three hours from this system's target,” Tuvok offered, having made the necessary calculations in his head.
“Which means less than twenty minutes from us,” Marcus added.
“That is correct,” the Vulcan agreed. “However, that is enough time for young Rastenn here to tell us whom he sent that message when he thought himself unwatched - and why.”
Before Rastenn could have even thought of an answer, there was a blur crossing the command deck, and a denn’bok swished open, one end pressing against his vulnerable throat. Clearly, he had underestimated the speed and the reflexes of the human Anla’shok.
“Yes, Rastenn,” the human said with eerie calm. “Why don’t you tell us what the hell you were doing?”
“You should not press the pike so hard against his throat,” Tuvok commented calmly. “He will have difficulties speaking that way.”
“Tough,” Marcus didn’t back off an inch. “He should try anyway; before I start pressing even harder. So Rastenn; last chance to tell the truth before I send you beyond the sea.”
Which, as Tuvok knew from the files about Minbari culture sent to Voyager by Delenn, was the equivalent of death.
“I would like… to see you try…” Rastenn had indeed difficulties to speak with the denn’bok pressed against his throat.
His hands were free, though, and his reflexes lightning-fast. In a second, he managed to grab the denn’bok aimed at him and to twist it from Marcus’s hands, thanks to his superior strength. The human had not expected such a move; not from a Minbari warrior used to traditional (and rather rigid) fighting techniques, and now he was pinned against the console by his own weapon.
“Better,” Rastenn declared in dark satisfaction; then he shot the Minbari crew a warning look. “Stay where you are or I will kill him on the spot,” he said in Adronato, before switching back to English for Ivanova’s sake, although he aimed his words at the Vulcan. “As to your question, Commander: I sent a distress call on a secret frequency used by warships of my own Clan only.”
“What for?” Ivanova nearly exploded.
“My uncle decided that fighting the Sher’shok Dum on your side would be the needful thing to do,” Rastenn explained, still holding Marcus at the denn’bok’s end. But he could not disobey Shai Alyt Shakiri’s direct order of non-interference. Not openly. However, if a group of Star Rider warships on patrol received a distress call from the Clan leader’s heir - that would be me - they would be entitled, no, obliged to answer that call,” he closed the denn’bok and handed it back to the human. “Satisfied?”
“How many ships are we talking about?” Ivanova asked.
“Unfortunately, only a standard patrol unit of six Sharlin-class cruisers and their fighters,” Rastenn answered. “We had to keep up appearances; and we still have to perform our duties as part of the border patrol. The Moon Shields are sending ships as well, but those might not arrive in time.”
“Still, six heavy cruisers mean a lot of trained Warriors,” Marcus said, forcing his anger back under control. “You could have said something, you know.”
Rastenn raised a hairless eyebrow. “And would Commander Ivanova have listened?”
The question was clearly rhetoric, so Marcus didn’t even bother to answer. Instead, he returned to his station to check their situation again. There wasn’t much change. The mammoth fleet of Shadow ships was still closing in.
“A little longer and we'll have power to engines,” he said, daring to hope again, at least a little bit. “We...”at this moment an alarm went off and his hope died at once. “Uh-oh!”
Everyone turned to the tactical display that showed one of the big battle-crabs, which had suddenly changed course, heading directly for the White Star.
“One of them has picked us up, moving to intercept,” Marcus stated… rather unnecessarily, truth be told.
Ivanova’s face froze into a mask of grim determination.
“Okay, this is it,” she said. “Stand by to…”
“Wait!” Marcus interrupted, turning to Tuvok. “Commander, you’ve come to see if your telepathic abilities are of any use against the Shadow vessels, right?”
“That is correct,” the Vulcan replied.
“Well…” no time like the present,” Marcus suggested. “It isn’t so as if we had any other choices.”
“I don’t understand,” Ivanova frowned. “I thought Vulcans were touch-telepaths; you can hardly touch one of those ships.”
“Most of us can indeed only establish telepathic contact through touch,” Tuvok agreed. “In fact, we have been trained to do so; to keep out the thoughts of others. However, a small minority - mostly those from the desert clans of the Forge - have still inherited the psionic powers of our ancestors.”
“And you never use it?” Rastenn found that hard to understand. Why would someone - anyone - give up a weapon that could not be detected… or taken away by the enemy and against which there was practically no protection?
“It is a dangerous gift we spend our entire lives to learn how to control,” Tuvok replied simply. “Sometimes we fail, and the results are… unfortunate. There were times in which we nearly exterminated our entire species due to our uncontrollable psionic powers.”
“I hate to interrupt the history lesson,” Marcus cut in, “but that Shadow ship is about to come into weapons range; and then we’ll be history. So, if you can do anything, Commander, I suggest that you do it now.”
“I shall try my best,” Tuvok promised and closed his eyes.
He could not tell for certain whether he would be able to hold their attacker back. The Shadows were an unknown factor and they might well be much stronger than him. But he came from a bloodline the members of which had been able to move monolithic blocks of stone with their mind or kill people with a mere thought. The raw power to do so had been suppressed and held under tight control since the Reformation, of course, and opening the floodgates, to borrow a human expression, could be dangerous… for him as well as for the others around him. The backlash could, in the extreme case, destroy the entire ship.
But that was a risk he had to take; otherwise they would be dead within minutes. So he concentrated and began to slowly, carefully release the powers roiling inside him, under the tight control he had been keeping them since his early childhood. There had been a reason why he had spent most of his youth in a monastery, among the Kolinahr adepts, learning their iron discipline.
He could feel the power rising within him like a hot tide; like the magma in an erupting volcano. He could not have held it back now, not even if he tried. Not any longer. All he could do was to focus the mental firestorm and aim its destructive force at the Shadow vessel.
Focus - aim - release. He was in control (barely), riding the tide of the dark fire, bundling its tendrils into one thick, destructive beam, lashing out at the enemy that wanted to destroy them, just because it could.
“Kroykah!” he hissed through gritted teeth and humans and Minbari watched in shocked surprise as the huge Shadow battlecrab suddenly exploded into a million tiny, glowing bits like some gigantic firecracker.
In the next moment Tuvok hit the floor of the command deck, his entire strength spent. The firestorm inside him was extinguished and darkness engulfed him.