A Technomage and a Telepath
By JeanDream
Explanation:
Though the Crusade TV series was short-lived, I was able to become an avid fan. Ever since the Babylon 5 "A Call To Arms" movie, I have been in love with the character of Galen. The handsome and charming actor, Peter Woodward, played this character with such grace and distinction that I have not been able to forget him. I'm sure that my "crush" on Galen will come out in this story. Please forgive me!
Of course, Crusade, Galen, technomages, etc., were created by JMS. All others are my creation, including the plot of this story. If anything is not technically correct, please bear with me. I don't know everything about technomages, telepaths, their ships, space, etc.
This is the first chapter of the story. I am presenting it in installments. Enjoy!!!
Chapter 1 - The Offer
Cara McDowell stared into a cup of the blackest coffee she had ever seen. She wouldn't have been surprised if the coffee in this seedy tavern on Dornik 4 was just as potent as the alcoholic beverages served in the "fine" establishment. Cara contemplated drinking the coffee for a few moments, and then pushed the cup away with a shudder. No one should consume anything as black as that.
The bartender, a stooped human male, regarded her with amusement. "No one ever drinks the coffee here. Not even me."
"Then why do you bother selling it," Cara thought but instead smiled tolerantly at the little man. "Do I dare ask for a glass of water instead?"
The bartender laughed. "Yeah, the water's fine here. Imported, so it'll cost ya."
"Sure," Cara replied. "I'll pay, bring me a tall glass of it."
"Coming right up," the bartender produced a sealed bottle from underneath the bar. He poured the clear, clean fluid into a tall, stemmed wine glass. "That'll be-" The bartender named a price which could have easily bought a half dozen drinks.
Cara paid the bartender who quickly slipped away to help other patrons. She was once alone with her thoughts.
She took a few sips of the water, cool and refreshing. Cara wondered if it was Earth water. She remembered her last trip home and the swim she had taken in the cool Scottish loch. Cara knew that the glass would be cold to the touch, just like the water. She wanted to take her gloves off and savor the coolness of it in this hot, dirty tavern. But the chance of contact was too great, and the thought of intensely sharing yet another stranger's thoughts and feelings sickened her deeply.
Being a PsiCop, and thus having a very high P-rating (P-12, in fact), Cara had to limit her contact with others greatly. Her abilities were so strong, that it was all but impossible not to pick up stray feelings from those around her, no matter how hard she blocked. For example, she could feel the muted sadness pouring from the Drazi male on her left and the bitterness of a scorned female Narn to her right. Cara wondered for a moment why she had even come to the bar in the first place. She usually avoided bars; the emotions were always so thick in the air. Then she remembered that her quarry was rumored to frequent this particular bar.
Thomas Oates, commercial telepath and a P-5, was quite inferior Psi ability-wise compared to Cara. Which was why she was so put out and disgusted by her inability to apprehend him. She had even met him previously; they had been classmates early on in her Psi training. His brain patterns would be familiar, but still she had failed so far in her mission.
"He has to have somebody helping him," Cara thought to herself, as she tucked her long chestnut brown hair behind her ears. Thomas Oates could not have eluded her for six whole weeks all by himself.
"Six weeks!" she muttered. She rolled her green eyes at her own incompetence. No one had ever before given her this much trouble. Cara was good; she was the best of the best of the PsiCops. She had even learned from the greatest PsiCop, none other than Alfred Bester himself. The only explanation for Oates' elusion of her on three consecutive planets was that an extremely talented person was helping him. Cara never failed in completing an assignment. Never.
"Cara McDowell," a voice suddenly whispered from her left.
Cara turned in surprise to where the Drazi had been sitting. In its place was a man in a hooded black cloak. She had not noticed the Drazi's departure. Cara had allowed her self-admonishment to distract her from the usual constant awareness of surroundings. That was not good.
The darkness of the bar and the dark hood hid the man's face. She tentatively probed for the condition of his intentions toward her, either good or bad, and sensed nothing. Confused and irritated, Cara pushed harder but still she could feel nothing from him. Mentally, he was eerily quiet.
"You should not waste your time trying to scan me," the man murmured. His voice was deep, rich, and cultured. "I am . . . protected."
"Who are you?" Sarah asked, struggling to keep the quaver of fear out of her voice. Her Psi abilities had always allowed her to know more than those around her, to be a step ahead of everyone. With this unknown man, she was as defenseless mentally as everyone else in the bar.
"I am a friend of Thomas Oates," the man replied. "I am the reason you do not have him in your custody."
"I see," Cara said stonily. "You are disobeying the laws of Earth and PsiCorps. Rogue telepaths must be captured and given treatment. They are a danger-"
"Thomas is a danger to no one, and you know that," the man interrupted her fiercely. "He never wanted to be a telepath; he never wanted to be a part of PsiCorps. He wanted to be an explorer. Now he will get that chance."
"Nevertheless, the law-"
"Your law means nothing to me," the man declared vehemently. "I am not governed by Earth or PsiCorps. But I did not come here to argue with you. I came to make you an offer."'
"An offer," Cara mused. Her green eyes narrowed. "What kind of offer?"
"One you won't be able to refuse," the man leaned forward closer to her and pushed his hood back. His eyes were deeply blue, his head mostly bald, and his face chiseled and defined. He was one of the most uniquely handsome men Cara had ever seen.
"My name is Galen. Not long ago, I encountered something . . . extraordinary on the edge of known space." Galen hesitated to explain further. "Do you mind if I invoke privacy?"
"Go ahead," Cara shrugged, trying to look nonchalant. A mixture of excitement and trepidation was building inside of her.
Galen waved a hand and immediately all noise other than that which they themselves made was muted. Darkness descended around them until their visibility was limited only to each other.
The mysterious man drew a circle in the air with his right hand in which the image of a mottled green starship-like mass appeared. "I call it Living Ship. It's part technology, part organic matter. When I came upon the living ship, it tried to communicate with me, but I was unable to respond. It communicates telepathically. When it hailed me and I could not answer, it fled at a remarkable velocity. Unfortunately, I was unable to follow it."
"So you need me to help you communicate with it," Cara theorized. "But why don't you just have your friend, Oates, talk to it?"
"He was with me when I encountered the Living Ship, actually," Galen replied, "and he did try to speak to it. Thomas is actually the reason that I know Living Ship is telepathic." The man paused to wave the image out of the air. "He sensed it, but its presence was too much for him. He could not respond. When Thomas discovered that the PsiCop sent after him was you, Cara McDowell, a highly talented telepath, he suggested that I ask for your assistance. He also told me about your first love before you joined PsiCorps, Xenobiology."
Cara sucked in her breath. It was true that before she was forced to join the PsiCorps, she had dreamed of studying alien life forms---perhaps to even become a medical doctor for them. However, her latent telepathic ability manifested itself when Cara was a young adolescent and that dream was cut short. She must have told Thomas about her first dream when she first started Psi training. Cara had been much more open and careless with her thoughts and feelings back then.
Despite Cara's uneasiness about the mysterious man and the offer he made her, the prospect of an adventure on the edge of the galaxy and discovering new life forms did pique her interest greatly. The living ship was like nothing she – or anyone else, most likely – had ever seen before. A question suddenly occurred to her.
"Why are you so interested in the living ship?" she asked, a hint of suspicion in her voice. "Who-what are you?"
Galen gazed steadily into her eyes. "I'm a technomage. The Living Ship and I have much in common. I desire to study the vessel and to learn from it."
Cara's sense of adventure screamed at her to accept the offer. It was the chance she had been waiting for all of her life. She could finally accomplish something great on her own, without the Corps' orders and approval. The thought was extremely appealing. Yet, another voice inside of her screamed, "NO, NO, NO!" If she went rogue, all that she had build for herself in Psi Corps would be lost. In addition, she would essentially become a walking dead woman. Being a rogue PsiCop, the greatest of the other PsiCops would hunt her with a passion. Perhaps even Bester would come after her. She knew firsthand the dreadful fate that awaits rogue telepaths. Cara never thought that fate could someday be hers.
"If I go with you, I will be rogue," Cara gravely voiced her concerns to the technomage. "They will hunt me to the ends of the universe."
"I will protect you like I have protected Thomas," Galen assured her. "You have seen my skill. No harm will befall you when you are under my protection. You have my word."
Cara contemplated the technomage and his offer for a few moments. Galen intrigued her. She wondered what it would be like to discover something grand at the edge of space . . . at his side. Up until that moment, Cara had never realized how truly empty and sad her life really was. What hope did she have for the future? She didn't like her work. She despised it! The Corps had never reformed her values fully. Cara ached inside for the terrible fate she had brought so many rogue telepaths to over the seven years of her PsiCop career. It was time to break free from the evil hand of PsiCorps. Time to embrace her destiny.
"I'll do it," Cara agreed bravely. "Give me a few hours to get my affairs in order."
A small smile formed on Galen's face. "Of course. I will come to you shortly." He extended his hand to her. Cara grasped it hesitantly. Despite the contact, she still felt nothing telepathically from him. It both unnerved and relieved her.
"I will be ready," Cara replied.
The technomage waved his hand again and the privacy field collapsed. Without a sound, he turned away from her and swept out of the bar, as mysteriously as he arrived.
Cara stood still and contemplated her situation for a few moments before departing herself departing the lounge.