Title : ...and a Happy New Year
Author: Jo Taylor
Part 4 of 7
Pairing: Marcus/Ivanova sort of
Rating: General
Disclaimer: Characters belong to JMS, the idea belongs to me!!
Authors notes: Well, this was supposed to be a light-hearted follow up to Merry Xmas; it didn't end up that way g
Feedback very welcome
… and a Happy New Year pt 4
As they delved deeper into the rabbit warren of corridors, Marcus grew more and more sure that they were heading in the right direction. Though nothing made this area stand out from any other, the nagging sense of familiarity was back, stronger than before.
One last turn and he was sure that this was the place, the spot where he had sensed her presence. No child was visible, no sound reached his ears and his senses registered no other individuals. Frustration curled around him, and he began a thorough search of the area, knowing that he would not find her.
Intent on their task, neither Marcus nor Ivanova heard the stealthy footsteps that would have announced the trouble heading their way. Bending over a large crate, Susan's first intimation of trouble was the whack of a pistol butt to her exposed back. Luckily she was moving at the time and the blow landed low, painfully cracking a rib. Her fury warned Marcus and he turned swiftly, blocking the savage blow aimed at him. The men were large, heavy brutes. Low-life scum used by others as 'clean-up' operatives, they were good at their job and Marcus was less than his usual efficient self. Wrestling with grim determination, the two combatants fell from one stack of cases to another, sending debris flying in all directions. Every impact jolted through him like a blast from a stun stick. The fist aimed at his jaw missed him by a fraction as Marcus ducked, aiming a blow of his own to the exposed midriff. He felt it land with a solid thud, knocking the wind temporarily out of his assailant, who staggered back two steps, finally giving Marcus room to manoeuvre. Making a practised move of his right hand, he grabbed his pike and extended it in one fluid move in time to swing a hefty blow to the other man's head. The crack of metal on bone echoed around the area with a satisfying sound. Turning his attention to Susan, Marcus noted that his help was not needed. She stood, Amazon like, straddling the inert body, her face full of fury and satisfaction.
"Are you okay?" he asked, needlessly.
She shook back her hair and tossed him a scathing look.
"I think we had best vacate this area, don't you? Naomi isn't here and I get no sense of her at all." Marcus looked dejected as he turned away, taking one last look around him. His eyes suddenly lit on a scrap of light revealed by the melee that had just taken place. Bending down with difficulty, he scooped up the doll, holding it gently in both hands.
"You think...?"
"A doll would not be abandoned, Susan. These children have little to call their own, this would have been treasured." His eyes searched the area again, and his heart ached for what might have become of the child.
"Let's go back up, see what we can find in Garibaldi's files. At least we know she was here, up to a few days ago at least. We can resume the search later."
Marcus nodded. Susan's thinking was sound but he had a feeling, deep in his gut, that he should continue, now. There was no rhyme or reason to it, just instinct, and he always trusted his instincts.
"You go on, I'll catch up with you. There are a few places I want to check out first. Clue Stephen in on our progress, take him the doll too, there might be some information he can gather from it." He handed her the toy and began to move away from her, then stopped suddenly as the room began to spin. Staggering, he put out a hand, looking for support and found Susan's arm around him, holding him up.
"I'm alright, really." The pallor of his cheeks belied his brave words. Susan's expletive rang loud in his already ringing ears as her hand came away red with his blood. As her arm had reached around him, under his cloak, she had knocked the handle of a thin bladed knife, where it still protruded from his lower back. The blow expanded the wound, sending a sudden spurt of blood over her hand. As though that were not enough his earlier injury had reopened during the fight. Blood seeped in a steady trickle from both entry and exit wound and was even now soaking through his tunic and dripping to the floor.
***
"Dammit, dammit." Susan cursed as Marcus staggered again. His weight now too much for her as consciousness left him. He crumpled, face down, she going down with him.
On Marcus' insistence, she had left her link behind; it lay safely on her coffee table where it was of no use to anyone. Her dilemma grew. She had to get him help, sooner rather than later and she did not want to leave him. The pressure of her hands was all that held back the wash of blood threatening to drain his life energy. A few corridors back she had seen an old com box, one fitted when the station was being built, its purpose unknown. The station was full of such aberrations, hopefully this one worked; it was Marcus' only hope.
She made swift progress, running flat out until she reached the small box. Her heart was pounding uncomfortably, and not from the exertion. Breathing a huge sigh of relief at the sight of the link she pulled open the cover and found nothing inside. The box was empty of wires, control panel, anything that might have given her a fighting chance of making contact with Franklin and his medical team. Panic settled in her stomach as her mind went blank. And then she was running again, back along the winding path they had walked along bare minutes before, until she crashed into the shantytown and grabbed the first adult she could find.
When she could finally get through to the man she had accosted, he roused two others and they followed warily as she sped back to where Marcus might even now be dying. "For Gods sake hurry," she yelled back at her reluctant rescue team.
Running full pelt into the scattered boxes, Susan came to a sudden halt. The two heavies who had lain unconscious had vanished and Marcus' body had gone, only a bloody pool bore witness to his presence. She knew, beyond doubt, that he had not been capable of independent movement. Kneeling down beside the sticky red pool she closed her eyes and sent out her meagre telepathic senses. She found nothing. Around her, the three men who had tagged along so reluctantly, shared meaningful glances then turned away.
"No! You have to help me find him." Her voice impassioned.
"There'll be no finding him now. Taken, he is."
"You can't just desert him like this. I know he helps you, I saw how you reacted to him today. He is your friend; you can't just abandon him!"
The oldest of the men stepped forward and laid a tentative hand on her shoulder. "You don't understand our life down here. He does, and he would know there is no point in looking." With a sad look he turned away, gathering the others with him, leaving Susan crouched on the floor her dismay quickly turning to anger.
"Marcus, I swear on everything I hold sacred that if I find you alive, I will kill you myself!" The brightness of her eyes might have led some to suppose that tears were not far off, a slur she would have refuted to the death. Slowly she got up, and turned toward the nearest corridor that would take her back to the transports. She had to get to Stephen, and between them they would find the Ranger.
***
Inky blackness held him safe, its embrace comforting and seductive. Every muscle relaxed within him as he felt his resistance fading, giving up his body to the warmth that seeped through him.
Voices filtered into his consciousness, soft and friendly and he felt the gentle touch of a hand on his cheek. As he drifted the child's face appeared to him once again, no tears this time but her arms were held out to him, calling him. He tried to reach her, tried to lift his hand to hold hers but his limbs now felt like lead. Unable to move, to speak even, his mind revolted against the tyranny of his body's weakness.
"I think he's coming around. Stand back dear."
He heard the words but they made no sense, he was filled with the need to find Naomi. His whole being strove for lucidity; to free itself from death's compelling grip.
"Naomi?" his voice whispered into the darkness. His effort was rewarded by the touch of a small hand slipping under his, where it lay against rough blankets. Strange how he could distinguish that amidst the nothingness that surrounded him, he mused.
"Young man, can you hear me?" The elderly voice sounded musically in his ear. Soft and compelling, he found himself responding to it, trying to raise his lids to view the world again. It was too much; he had never felt so weak. He hoped he were back in Stephen's care and would wake to his friend's irascible diatribe and not in the middle of a living nightmare. Darkness took him again and oblivion swept him away on swift currents.
When next he awoke, energy, in some small measure, had returned. At least opening his eyes was no longer a test of his strength. A soothing coolness breathed over his still warm skin, and he realised that his tunic and cloak were missing leaving his chest and arms open to the air. Lids fluttered against the light as he turned his head to the side, trying to recognise his surroundings. The room was small, utilitarian. In one corner a set of shelves held medical paraphernalia. Bottles and jars juggled for space with rolls of bandages and some of the more gruesome metallic objects. Not Med Lab then...
"You're awake! How wonderful." Again the dulcet tones, unfamiliar yet soothing. The woman who had moved to his side was small, distinguished, her grey hair coiled about her elegant head. She reminded him of his grandmother, that throwback to yesteryear, with her old fashioned clothes and her strictures on morality. But she had been the kindest person in his young life, taken from him when he was only eight years old. Even now he could remember her drilling into him a sense of responsibility and good manners. Gently done, but her will was of iron. This woman held that same steel within velvet look - and he was comforted.
"Hello," his voice barely above a whisper.
"Well, you probably are full of questions - Who am I? Where are you? And I will answer them all as soon as you have had something to eat and drink. You lost a lot of blood before my boys found you. I have done what I can and you seem a strong lad. I think you will do. Come, let me help you up."
She was surprisingly strong for a woman of her age, and Marcus could do little to help her. By the time she had raised the head of the bed, arranged his pillows to offer more support he was exhausted. She held a glass of water to his lips and helped him to sip slowly, when he had had his fill she left him, only to return with soup. Again, she helped him to sup the wonderful mixture. He felt its warmth slide down his throat, the taste exquisite on his tongue.
"Thank you," he said, with a heartfelt sigh. For the first time in an age he felt it would be okay to fall asleep and let someone else watch over him. But as his eyes began to droop, Naomi flashed into his thoughts and he struggled to lift himself.
A strong hand held him down, pressing him firmly back against the pillows. "Don't worry, she is safe, see?" Standing near the door, where his benefactress indicated, stood the little girl who had haunted his dreams and sent him on this most dangerous of missions. "They all end up here," she mused. "The lost, the hurt. Sooner or later they come to me, and I do what I can to help them. Now rest, all will be answered after you have slept."
Seeing that he still resisted, she called the little girl over. "Naomi this is..." she turned her gaze inquiringly to Marcus.
"Marcus. Pleased to meet you, Naomi."
The child smiled dazzlingly up at him, and patted his hand. Turning her impish face to the older woman she quipped, "See Maggie, I told you he had pretty eyes!"
***
Susan ran full pelt toward the nearest transport, scattering those foolish enough to get in her way. Flinging herself through the doors she ordered it to the nearest exit to Med Lab. The ride up was not long but in that short time she calmed her breathing, pulled her hands through her long, unfettered hair and did her best to present a more normal appearance. The aggressive stride and thunderous looks were not unusual aspects for Commander Ivanova to display, and they were in full force as she stormed her way into Stephen Franklin's domain. Anger kept any other emotions at bay, and it was with cold, deliberate words that she explained what had happened in Down Below.
"And when we reached the area he was gone!" Her hand slapped down hard on Stephen's desk. "They wouldn't help, and I had no idea where to start a search."
Her head tipped back as she tried to ease the tension from her neck. "I'll tell you this much, Stephen, he didn't get out of there under his own steam ... that knife was in as deep as it would go. It could have hit anything... What the hell would anyone want with a dying man?" Her terrified exasperation was contagious and Franklin's face reflected his own concerns.
"We have to call in Garibaldi on this. It's gone too far for the two of us to deal with alone. Damn him," he swore softly, "he attracts trouble like a magnet."
"Just wait until we catch up with him," she growled softly, "he doesn't know what trouble is yet."
***
Garibaldi's gaze moved back and forth between them, disbelief etched into his already craggy features. "Boy Scouts, that's what the pair of you are, and Marcus no better. What the hell were you doing? No, don't even try to answer that one. Did you really think I knew nothing about the telepaths? Just what do you take me for? I am head of security... or did that little item slip your memory." He held up a silencing hand. "No, I didn't discuss it with anyone else, but this is my station, my business and nothing goes on here that I don't know about."
"I hate to disillusion you," Susan moved to sit on the edge of his desk, weariness beginning to take its toll. "Were you aware that children were going missing Down Below?"
"Just one child, two years ago, no a little less than that. Never found a trace of the kid, he just vanished into thin air."
She shook her head. "No, it's nearly thirty now. They instituted their own searches Down Below after you didn't get back to them on the first little boy. Marcus..."She took a deep breath, "Marcus discovered that they have been vanishing fairly regularly, he thinks someone called Shaker might be involved, we almost ran into him."
"Shaker! How did that bastard get back on board?" Garibaldi turned and brought up Shaker's record to review. "Is this him?"
Susan nodded. On the screen, a small wiry man looked back at them. Thin of face, eyes set slightly too close together and of a dark grey colour, gave him a sinister look. He looked like the villain he was. Then Garibaldi flashed other faces up, known associates and two of them matched the hired help who had attacked Marcus and Susan.
"You are sure these are the guys who jumped you? And Freck was the one who shivved Marcus?" She nodded agreement to both.
"Right, well that gives me all the excuse I need to go on an animal hunt. This time Shaker is off the station for good. And while we track down this bit of effluence, we can turn the place upside down for Marcus. Doc, you had best come with us, if Cole is still alive he's gonna need you."
"When's Sheridan due back?" Franklin's concern was fully justified. The last thing they needed was the Captain on their back about this.
"Not for at least three days. The conference isn't due to finish until Friday." Being second in command had some benefits she thought. While the boss is away...
Ten minutes later they were armed and ready. Garibaldi had hand picked his teams to help out in the search, Franklin and Ivanova accompanying him.
As she checked her weapon, Susan wondered if it were all too little too late.
...