This story was based on the Babylon 5 universe by J. Michael Straczynski. The Long Trial, Part Three Chapter 19ÑThe Breath of Shiva By R. Bernstein Mohan Satmahari manipulated mechanical arms, shifting the position of the artifact under the hood. He wasnÕt going to be foolish enough to touch it. This was amazing! The structure was like a living machine, possessing living cells! And it emitted a constant regular pulse of energy, linking all of the cells like a heartbeat, but more regular than any heartbeat. And where were the energy pulses coming from? There didnÕt appear to be any centralized organ. Unless it was linked by some remote sensor to a central organ elsewhere. The spectrograph indicated a number of fairly common elements in its composition, and a few he hadnÕt seen before. He replaced the small opalescent black artifact in the repository. And logged onto the mainframe. He had a penchant for getting into information he was not supposed to have, and a glee in finding it. Having had powerful patrons afforded him a degree of latitude and the ability to cover for the curious cat he really was. But someday, it was going to catch up with him. After some difficulty he hacked into the files he was looking for. It was typical of a large agency like this to keep each section working on a project, ignorant of what the other hand was doing. It seemed, in fact, more intentional than just poor communication and oversight. Either way, he was going to find out more about this artifact from the other files. He scanned files quickly, trying to absorb as much as possible. If he stayed on too long the system would detect it, or he might stumble onto an alarm. Why does the Department of Energy have an interest in this? And the Ministry of Peace? He wondered idly. Tachyon bursts. It was receiving tachyon bursts, which had seemed at first like random background radiation, stellar static across a band of frequencies. But it wasnÕt random at all, just scrambled. A communication device maybe? Then he read one of the archaeological log entries. Mars, Sea of Tranquility, 10 latitude, 14.5 longitude 12/05/52ÑThe ship is alive! It has an energy we can all feel. And I could feel whispers in my mind as we worked. The more of the ship that we dug out, the louder the whispers have become. I keep hearing it at night, a plaintive voice from a dark corner of the room, but when I stop and listen, it is gone. And the dreamsÉThousands of ships with a spiky configuration, eight or ten arms apiece, black like this one, absorbing starlight as though into an event horizon. They all scream, making impossible sound in the vacuum of spaceÉ As we were digging the ship out, Greta Jones brushed against it with her shoulder. She died within a couple of minutes! The medics said that it was an aneurism, but she was a 24 year old graduate student, and while students are known for burning the candle at both endsÉIt is my belief that this ship was protecting itself. WeÕre being taken off the project and off the research site, and no one is talking about Greta, despite our persistent questions. Something was alive in there.ÑKirkish Dr. Mary Kirkish, one of the archaeologists on the site. Where was she now? Mohan couldnÕt find any further data on her whereabouts, so he shut the computer down. He returned to the clean room and the hood, and resumed studying the artifact, his eyes sliding over the surface. It had been found at the same archaeological site. Was it of the same material? It was 1:04 in the morning and fatigue must have loosened his focus because he found his eyes locked on it, in reverie. Was the pulse a little stronger now? His mind wandered into a half-dream. Out of the darkness in front of him came a sussuration like dead leaves in a field of graves. He shivered, smelling decay, and then a figure walked before him from out of the darkest myths he had ever learned. With a towering obsidian body, a multitude of watching eyes, hidden mandibles, and many- limbed, a minion of Shiva faced him with inhuman eyes, the chill of which had nothing to do with its lack of membership among Humans. It advanced toward him, and each midnight limb brandished a weapon for the re-shaping of the galaxy. Fleets of the strange spider-like ships shaped like the body of the Minion filled the sky, rending space with the scream of the Destroyer. His focus snapped back into his control, and sweat poured down his neck. He withdrew from the hood, staggered into decon, snatched off the gear and stood panting, feeling the walls close in. The pulse was definitely stronger now. And it occurred to him, not for the first time, that he might not keep his skin for much longer. He was afraid all the time now, and had been for months. The thought hadnÕt arrested his self-destructive quest for information, but he had never really allowed himself to stop long enough to think, because to pause too long might paralyze him. Now the import of all this and of where his fate had led him came fully home. In their stumbling around the galaxy in search of energy, commerce, power, they had awakened the most destructive god in history. * * * * * * * * The post Havah received at her flat near Heart Attack Alley was a strange one. Just a little figurine of a Hindu god with a couple of numbers written over the price tag. Coordinates and time. She had a feeling it was Mohan. He was Hindu. They had spoken of those sorts of things before. And this was just his style. She hadnÕt heard from him in a while and now this. The figure he had chosen rose her hackles. It was Shiva, the Destroyer. She was an anthropologist, and he knew it. He knew she would recognize the figure and what it meant in this context. Within their current situations, it could only mean that he was either in trouble, or had discovered something exceedingly unpleasant. The statuette stared at her with lifeless bronze eyes, tiny limbs splayed and rigid. * * * * * * * * "Nice place you picked! Very stylish. Are you trying to tell me something?" Havah asked tartly. Mohan shrugged and blushed fuschia under his dark skin. "Privacy guaranteed." They met in a sex club, known also for drug trafficking. No one got in without everyone noticing. Which meant that Havah and Mohan were noticed, but anyone seeking to follow them would be too. And shortly after they entered, smiled and politely took handfuls of offered ecstasy, which Havah dumped when the ÔwaiterÕ walked away, people returned to their previous activities. Havah took his hand suggestively and led him into a dark room, and shut the door. She scanned the room for bugs, and then put her face against the door, keeping her eye to the peephole. She nodded that it was safe to talk. He sighed heavily. "IPX has an artifact you might be interested in." She looked at him expectantly. "It looks, for the life of me, like organic technology. It has living cells, and some kind of mechanical pulse. I think it may be a transmitter or something." "AndÉthereÕs moreÉ" "Yes. I donÕt know how to explain it. Hunches are not very scientific. Look, the people who created this are without a doubt light years ahead of us, maybe even ahead of the Minbari. IÕve never seen anything like it anywhere in the galaxy. But someone else might have, a Dr. Mary Kirkish and a bunch of archaeologists who worked for IPX on Mars. She described a ship found at a nearby site to this artifact. She believed not only that the ship was alive, but that it killed one of the graduate students who touched it. And from the description, it may be made of the same material as this thing." "So how come you can touch it?" "I donÕt know, maybe itÕs the gloves, maybe it is too small to do what the big ship did. But hereÕs the other piece, the part of this whole thing that really gives me the willies. I was very tired and sort of drifted off while I was studying it, and I dreamed of the creatures that created these ships, and I saw the ships in thisÉdream, except that it didnÕt really feel like a dream at all. It felt likeÉa vision, a two-way vision. It felt like I was being watched, and the things watching me wereÉnot of a friendly dispositionÉAnd then, I saw the broadcast last night, the one displaying the spiky ships that the military can not or will not identify. They were the same ones in my dream, the same ones Dr. Kirkish described. I do not know what this means, but I think that it is very very bad. Here, I have the data I collected." Havah looked at him with a mixture of amazement and dismay. "I think you are right. Thank you! I will see to it that the information gets where it needs to be, and IÕll find Dr. Kirkish. In the meantime, we gotta get you out of here. If Earth Gov is hiding something like this, and these things are what I think, then your life here might get hairy. I know people on Babylon 5 who you can stay with--" MohanÕs nerves gave a lurch. Whether he was in danger or not, heÕd rather be here with this enigmatic woman, than on Babylon 5, alone with the dream. "WE will find Dr. Kirkish. IÕm coming with you." "No. YouÕre not. Look, the people who want to keep this quiet are going to be looking for you tooÑ" "I know, but IÕve gotten away so far, and I can help you find her. We need to find herÑ" "WhatÕs this ÔweÕ, Dr. Deep Throat?! This isnÕt a game! Those ships are real! The things they can do to people are real! You canÕt come with me!" "Yes, I can, and I will, or you donÕt get the data." "Dammit, Mohan!" "ItÕs time for you to tell me who you are and what you really are. HavenÕt I earned your trust by now?" Havah sighed. "Yes, you have. ThatÕs not it. ThereÕs no need for you to risk your neck more than you already have. If anything were to happen to youÉYou would make a good Ranger, you know that?" She sighed again. There was no way around this. He was as persistent as he was bravely stupid. "I am a member of a group called the Anla Shok. You might call them the Minbari version of the Rangers. We have been watching for the ships that you and Dr. Kirkish saw. The Minbari call the race that the ships belong to, the Shadows. A long time ago, a war was fought against these beings, and wonÉbarely. The Anla Shok were formed to build a defense against the time when they returned to try again, and now, it seems they have." "How long have they been waiting?" "A thousand years." Mohan whistled quietly through his teeth, remembering the face of the god. "What was the war about?" "No one knows. ThatÕs another reason weÕre trying to gather information. Especially after what happened with the Minbari, no one wants to jump into a war without even knowing whether the alien race is hostile." She leaned heavily, against the flimsy door. "But everything weÕve seen of this race so far, indicates that they are." "So you were trained by the Minbari military." "Sort of, yes." "They want to help protect Earth?" "Yes, we are allies now." "But you are working undercover because these Shadows might be in places you donÕt expect them, right? Like our own government? ThatÕs why they keep denying everything, isnÕt it, and why the Minbari havenÕt said anything about this at all yet?" Sharp cookie. Havah nodded. "I have seen some evidence of Shadow involvement in government agencies, yes." Mohan didnÕt need to be told how insidious this was. The imprint of the ships and the face of the Minion were burned into his memory. "IÕm coming with you." Havah rolled her eyes and turned, beckoning him with an exhausted wave, and opened the door after making sure no one but amorous couples were in sight. "YouÕre just going to follow me anyway, arenÕt you, and get yourself killed." "Yes." They slid out the door. "I know that the Hindustani cultures have castes, right?" "Yes." He smiled. "What caste is your family anyway?" "Kshatriyah." "Warrior caste, what a surprise." * * * * * * * * "So, do you know if Kirkish was affiliated with any university or anything? Did she have any publications?" Havah asked on their way to a local library. There they could tap into the net from an anonymous terminal and look up information. "She was actually an associate professor at Johns Hopkins in the Archaeology Department." "She may have gone back there." They tiptoed through the library feeling very exposed, but there was no avoiding it. The terminal linked in and Havah pulled up Johns HopkinsÕ faculty list. There she was, with contact information, but no address. It was dicey to try and contact the woman by link. That might even put her in more jeopardy. Havah called her own office, claiming a Ôfamily emergencyÕ and taking off for the next week, hoping her position would still be there when she got back. She left no contact information, considering MordenÕs ÔconsultantÕ status. They got a shuttle flight on standby in the next two hours, and were in Baltimore by nightfall. They stayed in a youth hostel and paid cash in order to avoid giving any personal information. They were travelers after all. Havah meditated while Mohan sleptÉand snored like a bandsaw. The next day they went to the Hopkins campus, to the Archaeology Department. A young woman looked up from a terminal. "Can I help you?" Havah took the lead. "Hi, yeah, I was just trying to get in touch with Dr. Kirkish. Is she around?" "SheÕs on vacation. What is this concerning? Maybe someone else can help?" "Oh, no. I was just an intern on a dig she was on, and I was interested in maybe applying here next year and studying under her. So is there somewhere I can contact her?!" The girl laughed. "I donÕt know, weÕve been trying this number and havenÕt been able to get through. I can leave a note for her in her mailbox. Good luck!" "Ok, thanks! IÕm in town for a little bit, so if she calls in, can you give her my information?" She gave the contact info of the hostel. Her and Mohan wandered up and down the halls, like visiting students, perusing the names on the office doors. Mohan piped up. "That one, that name. Dr. Morris Leland. He was with IPX too. I remember his name." "Yeah? Any other names you remember?" They went to the department computer lab and slid the data crystal into the port. There were two other scientists as well, Dr. Liam McMurtaugh, and Dr. Henry Gonzalez. One was from University College Galway, and the other was from UCSF in Frisco. They returned to the office first, to ask the receptionist about Leland. Mohan asked politely, "Do you know when Dr. Leland will be in?" The girl looked at him in a stupor for a moment. "HeÕs deadÉYou didnÕt know, did you?" Mohan shook his head dumbly. "I kind of figured. Do you go here?" "Not yet, no." "Oh. Well, he had a heart attack a couple of weeks ago. HeÕd had heart problems for a few years, so it wasnÕt that surprising. But everybodyÕll still miss him. He was a really terrific professor. I had him in Forensic Anthro. He took us all to the county coronerÕs office and let us watch an autopsy. Another time, I had him for Egyptian archaeology, and we got to make beer using a recipe that was uncovered from thousands of years ago!" "Sounds like a great class! IÕm sorry to hear about him!" They called the other universities from a link near the Rathskellar, the campus deli. It was possible one of them would know more about Dr. KirkishÕs whereabouts. Havah prepared her alibi. She called Ireland first. After four transfers to the wrong department, and then one disconnect, she was transferred to Dr. McMurtaughÕs teaching assistant, a young man. "Can I help you?" "Oh, I was just looking for Dr. McMurtaugh." "May I ask why youÕre callin?" That was a strange question for a teaching assistant. "I havenÕt seen Dr. McMurtaugh in a while, I just wanted to touch base." "WellÉhow long ago did you see him?" "UhÉA long time ago, I donÕt know, at least five years. I lost track." "IÕm sorry. I donÕt mean to be rude. He died two weeks ago. It was a shuttle accident. IÕm assisting one of the other professors in teachinÕ his classes for now. You just caught me off guard." "Wow! IÕm really sorry, I had no idea! How did it happen? If you donÕt mind my asking." "No, something went wrong with the shuttle. They Ôtink something in the fuel cell went squirrelly. Three other people died." "Jeez! Well, IÕm really sorry to hear that. IÕll send my condolences to his family. Thank you very much!" "Sure. You take care!" Havah got off the line, and looked at Mohan. "They think something in the fuel cell went squirrelly?" She turned and called San Francisco. After being on hold for a few minutes, a bronzed blonde answered. "You wanted Dr. Gonzalez right? Sorry it took me so long. IÕm on work-study, and this place is a zoo! HeÕs on sabbatical this semester. HeÕs out at a dig on Ganymede. I can give you his contact information there." "Thanks!" Havah took the information. She tried the dig site on Ganymede, and was unable to connect. The coincidences were unnerving. What now? They had to get in touch with this Dr. Gonzalez on Ganymede, and find Dr. Kirkish. Havah would have to split up tasks, and assign another Ranger to locate one of the two archaeologists. First, she had to find a place for Mohan. Where would he be safe for now? Her flat. No one knew about her yet, and being Nightwatch, no one was likely to inquire just yet. "Come on." She grabbed him by the arm. "Are we going to Ganymede?" "WeÕre going to my flat first. I have a loose end to tie up." * * * * * * * * It was a long flight back, even though it only took a few hours. Havah couldnÕt stop thinking about the archaeologists. It might be too late already. If only she could just take this bozo to Babylon 5, but he wouldnÕt go, and she couldnÕt make him, not the whole way anyway. He wouldnÕt leave her side. They sat in their chamber as he dozed and she stared at his eyelids in consternation. He opened them and looked at her innocently. "So you are part Minbari, arenÕt youÉthe blood test?" "Yeah. My dad." "Have you met him?" "Yeah." "What does he do? Did he fight in the war?" "Yeah, he did. In fact, he was the executive officer in charge of the assault on the Line." "Holy cow! How long have you known him?" "Just since a year and a half ago. ThatÕs when I found out for sure about my genetics." "That must have been difficult." "It was. The whole thing has been difficult, finding out, meeting him, getting to know him. But heÕs really trying to make this work, it would seem, and so I should too. Rome wasnÕt built in a day, I suppose." "Of course. ThatÕs a pretty heavy past to overcome, for both of you." "If you tell me to be patient, IÕm going to clock you one on the head. IÕve heard that from every damn person from here to the Rim, I donÕt need to hear it again." He raised his hands in surrender. "No commentÉI can tell now, your face is exotic. ItÕs very Minbari in some ways, and very Human in others." "ExoticÉright." "It is. You are very beautiful." Uh oh. Suddenly, Havah was uncomfortable, partly because of a natural inability to accept compliments, and partly because it was obvious now why he was following her. He got up and moved to a seat next to her. His fingers stroked the side of her face, and his dark eyes were intense. She withdrew and guided his fingers away from her face firmly, staring into his eyes. "This isnÕt a good idea. YouÉyouÕre a really great guy, and if our situations werenÕt what they are, IÕd be all over you. But, this isnÕt a good idea, not now." "Later?" "ThatÕs not what I meant. We cannot get involved like this." "Why not? Is there a regulation that prohibits involvement forÉsomeone in your profession?" "No. ItÕs just not safe right now. You have information I need, and you are in danger, whether you are willing to accept that or not. ItÕs too complicated." He sat back, rested his head against the seat and gazed mournfully at her, and then took her hand. She started to blanche, but he didnÕt let go. "WeÕre not getting involved. Can I just hold your hand?" She sighed, looked at his big brown eyes, and didnÕt pull her hand away. * * * * * * * * She entered the flat first, to make sure there were no surprises waiting for them, and when he turned to close the door, she whacked him on the base of the skull hard enough to knock him neatly unconscious. He slid in a crumpled heap into her arms, and she hefted him over to the toilet, spread some blankets and pillows down and bound his hands to the sturdy fixture, giving him just enough room to use the facility if necessary, or to lie down. She didnÕt want to torture him after all, just make sure he stayed put. "Sorry, Mohan." She gave the toilet a quick clean to make sure he didnÕt wake up to a worse experience than it needed to be, and left to contact other Rangers, disconnecting the door trigger. No one was getting in or out. * * * * * * * * The Anla Shok in the area met at Big JohnnieÕs after receiving a pop-up ad- message with the old jingle ÔI feel like chicken tonight, like chicken tonight!Õ Havah had crafted it to be sent from a web address that couldnÕt be linked to any terminals at work or her flat, and because pop-up ads were ubiquitous. But this jingle was an old one, recognizable to the receivers as a message to meet at the usual place, unless the ad indicated otherwise. Big JohnnieÕs, the hot- wing palace was the place Havah had determined for meetings upon coming to Geneva. It was loud, crowded, and full of people of all kinds. It was easy to be background noise here. It would be so much simpler if I could just shine a bat symbol into the sky, Havah thought as she waited for the others. Anlashok Lazaro arrived first from the pawn shop, then Monyasa from his accounting firm, and Verscheure from the Geneva shuttle-port security. They got a bucket of hot wings and sat back down, after perusing the joint and finding no suspicious tag-a-longs. "So, howÕs the pawn shop, Jay?" "Not bad. Business has been a little slow, but you know how it is. You thinking of donating something?" "Nope. Looking for some records actually." "What kind of records?" "Your shop still selling identicards?" "Someone skipping town?" "I would if I were her. Her name is Dr. Mary Kirkish. She worked for IPX, and at Johns Hopkins. She just went on vacation, and I have a feeling sheÕs not going to come back." "Hopkins, thatÕs in Baltimore! SheÕd go to someone in Baltimore, not here. But I know someone who knows someone there." "ThatÕs what I was hoping." "IÕll do what I can." "Fantastic. Monyasa, I need you to retrieve this man, and take him to Babylon 5." She handed him the information she had gathered on Gonzalez at the Ganymede dig. "HeÕs in trouble, or at least he will be soon." Monyasa nodded. She turned to Verscheure. "I need you to take care of someone for me. HeÕs a really stubborn friend. HeÕs in trouble, but heÕs following me around instead of letting me take him to Babylon 5. I need to follow up on Kirkish, if I can, and he seems to make more rational decisions when IÕm not around, so IÕm passing him on to you. IÕm sorry about that. But he needs to get away from here safely." Verscheure grinned. "SoÉbabysit your new boyfriend." "Verscheure! IÕm warning you, these chicken bones will be very uncomfortable up your nose! And heÕs not my boyfriend! He wants to be and thatÕs the problem. Get his stubborn ass to Minbari space. He has information we need. You can find him at my flat, this address. The front lock is disabled, and heÕs tied up in the bathroom." They all grinned this time, and Havah wadded up a bunch of napkins and threw it at all of them. "Just shut up and do what I tell you!" Verscheure cleared his voice and said angelically, "Yes, maÕam!" The others choked back snickers. They cleaned off the table and met outside. Instead of the Minbari salute, they shook hands. "Isil zha veni!" They said quietly, and each went their separate ways. * * * * * * * * Mohan was gone when she got back to her apartment. A Ranger pin was left by the sink, like a decorative chochkie. Verscheure had taken him. As for news of Kirkish, Havah had to wait all of a couple hours before the pop-up ad popped up, only to be interrupted by another one. It was a picture of Marilyn Monroe. What the hell was that about? Havah steepled her fingers and peered at the picture. Marilyn Monroe, Marilyn Monroe. What was it about her? She was born Norma Jean in a small townÉNorma Jean! Dr. Kirkish changed her name and got a fake identicard! What is her name changed to? And why did he send the picture instead of waiting to meet? ÉBecause he canÕt. He thinks it might be too dangerous. He thinks heÕs being watched. Well, what the hell is her name now? And what if the message wasnÕt sent by Lazaro? A chill ran across her neck. She tinkered with the ad. There was an embedded message. "Jona Knox. Isil zha veni" It was from Lazaro, and there was the name. She did an electronic search for ticketed passengers in all surrounding shuttleports in Baltimore, down through Virginia, and up to New York. If I were Miss Knox, I would want to get the hell out of Dodge as soon as possible, and as far as possible. No ticketed passengers with the name Jona KnoxÉyet. Were there any Rangers in Baltimore? No. Of course not. That would be too easy, she thought caustically. So the remaining options were to either rush to Baltimore on the hope of finding her there, or to wait until the name turned up in another search, and book a flight for the same destination and hope to meet her there. Havah paced, and gnawed her fingernail, as antsy as a long-tailed cat in a room full of rocking chairs. She might be ahead of the eight-ball if she could catch Kirkish at a shuttle-port, and not wait to belatedly follow her to whatever destination. Baltimore it was, then. But this was too big and too important to do alone. This woman would need more help than Havah and the Anla Shok here could give her. If she were going to herd this woman to Babylon 5, she was going to need GaribaldiÕs help with security. And the Anla Shok on Babylon 5 could get her to Minbar. She flipped through archives of old cartoons, right up GaribaldiÕs alley, and selected Bugs BunnyÕs ÔRide of the ValkyrieÕ, after watching Elmer Fudd stomp around after the rabbit, sporting floppy blonde maiden braids. "Saw this again and thought youÕd get a kick out of it," was the recorded message. The embedded message read ÔKirkish, Jona Knox.Õ * * * * * * * * Garibaldi pored over the goofy message he had gotten from Havah, a woman who consistently failed to use a com to keep in touch with friends, even when she wasnÕt on a mission. But it was Looney Tunes, after all. And she was the only one who humored his late-night Daffy Duck-a-thons repeatedly. On the other hand, she detested getting those annoying clips of everything in the galaxy that one person somewhere thought was funny, often talked about what she would like to do to people who clogged her mail with the very kind of thing she was now sending him. The only reason she would send something like this was if it meant something. As he watched, it was obvious. Someone was being pursued. He thought for a minute about how she might store the necessary details. If he wanted to get information out without being seen by the wrong people, he would embed a message between frames. He had done this himself, in the past. Thirty seconds later, he headed for Down Below to find Marcus Cole, a recent addition to the Babylon 5 Anla Shok assignment. * * * * * * * * Havah inquired at five major shuttle-lines before an agent found a record of a Jona Knox. Three lines had had no record, and one refused to give her the private information. The fifth, Trans-Galaxy, showed that Miss Knox had just boarded a flight for Centauri Prime, with a connecting flight at Mars Central, which had left the gate ten minutes ago. Looking deflated for more reasons than the courtesy agent could imagine, Havah asked about the next flight connecting at Mars. "You know, she can be contacted aboard the flight until they reach space. Would you like to call her?" "No, IÕll just call her later. Thanks. Do you have any flights for Mars before tomorrow?" "Of course, we have a flightÉwell actually we have a flight leaving in 20 minutes. If security is kind to you, you may be able to make it. Would you like to try?" "Sure, whatever, what are my odds of making it?" "Well, IÕll call over to the ticketing counter and have them reserve it for you, so that when you go to the counterÑ" "You mean, you canÕt give me the boarding pass here?" "No, IÕm afraid until we get the new machines installed properly, the ticketing is still at a separate counter." She linked in, reserved the spot and closed the screen. "They have your pass, all you have to do is check in there and pay." She pointed to a counter across the atrium, with a dismally long line wending into the hallway. Ten yards away and she canÕt take my identicard here?! Brilliant technology! The line appeared to be moving fast. But the urgency and the annoyance singular to long shuttle-port lines, bawling children, and impatient peopleÕs luggage nipping her heels, had Havah disheveled and more out-of-breath by the time she reached the counter than any of the exercises performed in the course of her Ranger training. The price of the pass would have choked her, if she hadnÕt had Grey Council money. She grabbed the pass and ran for the security gates, only to pace slowly forward in another long line, fidget while the man in front of her emptied his pockets... A minute and counting, she pounded down the concourse and into the gate just before the shuttle closed. The shuttle took them to the larger cruiser docked in orbit, and it was a few-hour flight from there. These things were like shuffling beetles, she thought as she stared at the wall, willing it to pick up speed. KirkishÕs shuttle was even slower getting into dock, and banking on the delay, Havah stepped carefully through the transport tube, headed for the shuttle to Centauri Prime, looking for the delicate-faced blonde. * * * * * * * * Kirkish tried to make herself as insignificant as possible in a corner of the tube, sandwiching herself between two businessmen. If anyone tried to get at her, these men would notice. Unfortunately, she chose unwisely. As the tube pulled into the station, the man to her right slipped a needle into her neck. * * * * * * * * Havah saw KirkishÕs nervous eyes, and a glint of metal, a second before the syringe would have unloaded its dose. He had been fast, but about four feet away, Havah drew her denn bok and released the catch, sending one end shooting into his throat. He dropped the syringe, gasping, and Kirkish bolted and ran for the door at the other end. Another man stepped in front of Kirkish, grabbing her by the hair and wrestling her towards the door. The bystander effect was in full-swing as a couple of people just stood dumbly and watched. Havah cross-stepped back and thrust the pike into the base of the goonÕs skull. He dropped. Too easy. These thugs were clumsy, disorganized, and obvious, she thought, as the first man, still clutching his throat, drew a gun, while Havah turned to go after Kirkish. She had put away her pike, so she turned back around and grabbed either side of his shirt from behind a pole as he rushed her, and pulled him into the pole face-first. After he fell, she planted a foot in his groin for good measure, and then ran to catch up with Kirkish, who had escaped through the next car already, as the train had started moving. Havah finally caught up to her in the crowd, at the next station. "IÕm not after you!" "How do I know that?" KirkishÕs eyes were wild. "Because if I were, youÕd already be dead." Her eyes widened, and she stood for a moment, considering. Havah brushed past, grabbing her hand, "Come on, thereÕs no time. I donÕt know who those dorks were, but there will probably be more of them soon." Kirkish allowed herself to be pulled until Havah turned into the docks for freighters, and then she jerked her hand away, casting frightened glances at the gloom. Havah shook her head. "They will follow you easily to Centauri Prime, and the Centauri donÕt care. They have their own agendas. There are people who can help on Babylon 5. They can get you to Minbar. YouÕll be safe there, but your luxury ride is up. YouÕre going to have to go as cargo. Those men found you even when you used your new identicard, didnÕt they? And they were morons. Not everyone following you will be." Kirkish stared cagily and then a look of fatigue washed over her. "Come on, you can sleep on the freighter. I know youÕve been through a lot, and I donÕt have any way of convincing you. Please trust me." HavahÕs voice gentled. This woman was exhausted, and nothing in academe would have prepared her for the path she was on now. She was about to walk away from everything in her life that was familiar, and everything that had seemed safe and normal no longer was. Havah held out her hand and Kirkish followed her as they slipped into the cargo bay. There were large heavy crates, labeled ÔBalvenie DoublewoodÕ, ÔGlenrossÕ, and ÔKetel OneÕ. Oh good, booze. IÕm in an ocean, and not a drop to drink. Havah thought. She cast about until finding an empty crate the same size as the others, and then peeled off a label for Glenross and slapped it onto the empty crate. If any liquor had to get left behind, it might as well be the one her college friends called Ôbrain-melting Martian moonshineÕ. The empty crate was just large enough for two small adults, and Havah climbed in and beckoned Kirkish to join her. It would be an uncomfortable ride until they hit open space and could climb out for a spell. They held their breath as they felt the crate hefted, and then the shifting of the box until they were set down again. And thenÉnothingÉand more nothing, except the hum of the ship engines. After a long period of cramped sweaty airless silence, Kirkish whispered "Who are you?" Havah waited a few moments, to listen around them for any sign that theyÕd been heard. "My name is Havah. I guess you would call me a Ranger. WeÕre called Anla Shok in the Minbari language. ItÕs a Minbari organizationÉIÕve been looking for you. I know what you saw." Kirkish held her breath and then inhaled shakily. "What is it?" "A Shadow ship. The Shadows are an ancient race that was driven into hiding a thousand years ago, out at the Rim. Both the Minbari and the Vorlons fought them then, and have been waiting for them to make a re-appearance." "Why?" "Well, they seemed to be very destructive the last time they appeared. And there have been indications that they mean to resume their old attacks." "For what reason?" "ÉWe donÕt know." "When we were taken off the dig, no one would talk to us. Is our government involved with them? Why were we taken off? Why am I being hunted?" Havah gazed into the darkness where KirkishÕs voice had been. "I wish I had an answer for you. I think the government may be involved, but I cannot offer you any conclusions." Havah wanted to spill her guts to this frustrated woman and give her all the information that she had earned, but information was dangerous until they reached safe ground. They lay in silence for a while longer. Then, when it felt like all of the oxygen was gone, Havah lifted the lid and peeped out. There was no one around. * * * * * * * * A dark unmarked cruiser left Earth orbit. It entered the jump point off Io and headed for the Epsilon sector. The freighter was not far ahead. * * * * * * * * They were almost there, almost to Babylon 5. The freighter floated near Epsilon Three awaiting permission to dock. Crates including the one inhabited by Havah and Kirkish had been loaded onto a smaller shuttle for transport, but waited to be discharged from the larger ship until clearance was given to dock at the station. The queue was a bit long, since there had been a backup at a few of the docking bays, and while they waited their turn, the captain was hailed by Psi Corps. He looked through the screen distastefully, at an austere man with a black baldric. A Psi cop. "None of us are teeps, whaddya want?" "None of you may be, but we have reason to believe that there are stowaways aboard who are." "So?" "So we have the authority to search for rogue telepaths, anywhere we need to. You wouldnÕt be harboring them now, would you?" "YouÕre a telepath! Why do you bother asking me, why donÕt you just read my mind?" "If you wish, but it will be much easier for you and your crew to just let us retrieve our runaways and be on our way. Then you will be well rid of us." His smile was mirthless. The captain shivered. "Yeah, whatever. Be quick about it." Access was granted, and a black-booted team strode into the docking bay. Havah felt footfalls. Heavy ones, regimented ones. TheyÕd been found. Kirkish had to make it to Babylon 5, but if they waited here, they were caught. She motioned to Kirkish to stay still, and slipped out of the crate and off the shuttle before the footsteps could come into view. She crept up against another crate and came into full view of six uniformed Psi cops. These were not the crude brutish thugs that had ambushed Kirkish on Mars. This was a Blood Hound unit. TheyÕre sending Blood Hounds after normals! Despite her training, and her history, her heart began to pound. Get out of his line of sight, she thought, as the closest man turned toward her and she could feel the vise close around her temples. She ducked back behind the crate and drew her denn bok. This was it. The only hope Kirkish had, was the biggest distraction Havah could make, because if they were allowed to search, they would find the archaeologist. And if they cracked into HavahÕs mind, they would strike the jackpot. Last as long as you can, last as long as you can. I have poison, I just have to last long enough to draw them away. Sweat poured down her shirt, and her hands trembled. The unit said nothing as they fanned out, surrounding her, as she weaved in and out of stacks of crates, avoiding line of sight. One came around a corner and ducked as she thrust the pike, seeing her move in her mind a second before she executed. Another cop came behind her. She stood no chance against them, as they ducked every blow she threw, knowing it was going to be thrown. They encircled her like a troop of baboons narrowing in on a monkey. HavahÕs knees shook and she panted with futile exertion. She summoned the strongest emotions she could dredge up from her consciousness, every flush of embarrassment, every dull wash of anger she had ever felt, from the time she had been pelted with mud in the first grade, to the first time she kissed a boy, and flooded her body and mind with it, allowing them full access to the biggest storm of emotion she could blast at them. But they would not be distracted. Blazing pain ripped through every nerve in her body and she screamed and writhed on the floor as they sliced into her mind. NOOOOO! And then, a part of her stepped away. Just like that. She remembered. At the Anla Shok training compound, an ancient withered Minbari appeared one day, a couple months before she left for Earth. The instructors, even Master Durhan, were reverent in their attitude towards this mysterious man. He had given his name only as Kulan. He was here to teach for a little while, and only those who were ready to learn. His lessons were in the art of fala shen. He was a master in this art, hidden in the same way as the mountain forests of China had hidden the art of Li fu dao, the Way of the Sixth Sense, passed on deep within the high walls of stone temples by invisible masters with dragons burned into their forearms. Telepaths were born. These masters had been Made, by years of slow patient training. The Anla Shok trainees had no time for such slow training, but the Way had begun. And over the next two months, until Havah left for Earth, the trainees began learning to shield their minds, and sense the weight of a fruit fly lighting on a berry in a tree beyond their sight. Such abbreviated training was no match for the Blood Hounds, but for a minute, they hit walls in HavahÕs mind that seemed to melt away against resistance, only to lead them down a psychotic path, and then in circles. And then they broke her, leaving her mind submerged under waves of skittering spiders and beetles, burrowing into her eyes, ears, nose, throat, paralyzing her alive while the beetles gnawed into her flesh, sinew, cracking open her bones to feed on the marrow. Loss of consciousness, when it finally came, was a blessing. * * * * * * * * Before the unit could board the shuttle with the hiding scientist, the captain launched it as soon as Commander Ivanova cleared a dock, stating that she had no knowledge of any Psi Corps activity, and could care less what they were authorized to do. He wasnÕt going to argue with her. If the ÔrunawaysÕ were on that boat, well that was too damn bad! The teeps could deal with the Commander if they wanted to get them back. Number One fixed the recalcitrant captain with a chilling stare, but let his mind alone. It was too late. The Bureau would have to be notified. It was too much of a risk to send another operative to the station. Not only was station security a problem, but IPX had people in place aboard. They would reach the fugitive first. In the meantime, the Bureau had this one. The female rebel writhed insensate between two of his operatives, and then sagged. They hefted her and headed back to base. Template1 Last printed 0/0/0000 0:00 AM Created on 6/26/2001 4:02 PM