Thank you everyone who has been responding so far! You guys are the best. It's pretty scary to wade into such a strong, established fandom. And, as you'll see here, I've done it kind of on my own terms. It's just the start of it, mind, but I've kind of recreated the Sentinel mythology from the ground up and by the time we hit Arc 4, well, we're going to blow the doors off this thing entirely.
But one step at a time. See you on Friday for the next update!
Enjoy!
"Stop! Stop!"
Hadji reacted on instinct– at Blair's shout he immediately hit the switch to bring the machine to stillness. Only when he was certain that it had shut down completely did he look up.
Blair was already on one knee, hands frantically fluttering over Jaga's back, afraid to touch and unable to help himself. It had been an experiment to determine the impact of radiated heat on a Sentinel's ability to monitor his surroundings. Jaga had been positioned next to a small but powerful heater and the temperature had been steadily increased while he was asked to repeat sounds from two rooms over. He had stood without complaint for two hours enduring the increasing temperature and airflow directed at his bare back while correctly answering Hadji's questions as Blair monitored.
"He set the pain dial too low," Blair said, angling his body to better absorb any remaining heat pouring off the heater and spare the Sentinel who had collapsed. "Didn't feel it burning until it became too much for him."
"Sorry, Sang Kancil," Jaga said around a wispy breath. "Mind was elsewhere and the waters fell."
"Well, keep those waters low for now," Blair answered. "Speaking of which, I have an old trick for burns like this. I'll be right back." He nodded to Hadji and the young Indian took his place at Jaga's side, the slowly cooling machine making his own back prickle at the uncomfortable warmth.
With more than a week spent working with Jaga, Hadji and Blair had learned a great deal about their new Sentinel ally. Though Jaga fully understood dials and how they worked, they had learned that he responded better to controlling his senses through something much more innate – in his case, by visualizing the water level in a river or a tide coming in. When in the quiet room and away from their captors, Blair had explored the water levels method thoroughly, finding to his surprise that it actually made the senses work differently from what he was used to with Jim. The dials imagery that worked so well for Jim meant that Jim's senses tended to adjust up or down incrementally, even if he spun the dials quickly. For Jaga, one sense could flood the river in his mind and go from the barest trickle to a raging torrent in a flash. But the water imagery also meant that Jaga was more prone to zone-outs, literally drowning in the senses in his mind. Hadji and Blair had combined their knowledge of psychology and meditation to begin uncovering the unique connection between visualization and biofeedback to uncover why the difference was so pronounced.
Hadji let his voice slide into the low drone that he had learned tended to help Jaga focus. "Breathe slowly, my friend. If you can permit me to touch you, I can attempt to alleviate at least some of your distress."
Jaga took a deep breath and let it out in a tightly controlled whoosh. Then he nodded. "Try now."
Hadji did not hesitate. Noting the irregular pattern of burning on the man's skin, he traced his fingers lightly down the planes of his back, first just to ensure Jaga could abide the touch. When he did not react, Hadji began to move more deliberately. At specific junctions of muscle and bone and nerve, he applied a firm, steady pressure. Remembering a trick from his studies, Hadji began to hum low in his chest, settling into a tone that he could feel reverberating throughout his body. A non-Sentinel might not feel the difference of a vibration along with the acupressure, but Jaga did. In moments he began to relax as the tension of pain ran out of him.
"Great idea," Blair said as he returned. "I only know a couple of good pressure points. And the sound will give him something for another sense, too."
He was carrying a large bowl of very soft cloths soaking in cool water with a dribbling of honey left over from breakfast. Blair and Hadji carefully covered every inch of the burned skin with wetted cloths, then bound the whole thing up with gauze.
"Just a couple of hours and your skin will stop feeling so raw," Blair said. "We'll keep them wet and cool and you won't have anything worse than a sunburn before long." But then he looked straight up into one of the cameras in the room and glared. "Tests are over for the day. Unless you want a Sentinel with skewed data from pain and skin oversensitivity, and I know you don't."
There was no response from their watchers, and after a moment Blair and Hadji both relaxed. Without another word, they eased Jaga to his feet and steered him to the quiet room.
"I know you weren't acting," Blair said the minute they were outside monitoring range, "but is it really as bad as it looks?"
"No," Jaga said, a sly smile crossing his face. "Pain, yes, but not so strong. No reason to fall but to annoy those who watch."
"Then that is yet another test in which we have failed to provide true results to our hosts," Hadji sat back with a smile of his own. "By my count, for every accurate point of data, we have provided an inaccurate measure as well."
"Hey, gotta stick it to the man somehow," Blair commented. He started rooting around in the corner of the room where they had hoarded some basic supplies. "But I mean it about the water, Jaga. Both on the burn and inside. Drink up." He tossed a bottled water across and offered one to Hadji as well.
"As we have now gained an afternoon to ourselves," Hadji took the bottle and arranged his feet under him, "perhaps we may continue our conversation from last night."
"You push like wind over leaves," Jaga said with good humor in his eyes. "To drink or to tell? I cannot do both. Seems I disobey Nyineng either way, Sang Beruang."
But Hadji's contrition showed none of that humor. "I apologize. I do not wish you to suffer for my eagerness."
Jaga reached over and put a hand on Hadji's knee. "Sorrow for curiosity does not suit you," he said. "Like Kancil, Beruang your heart and mind always good."
Hadji smiled at him. Jaga had taken to calling him 'Sang Beruang' the same way he called Blair 'Sang Kancil.' The kancil was an important figure in many legends and fables of the peoples throughout the area of Borneo from which Jaga came, a clever trickster who overcame adversity through wits and intelligence. The kancil being disarmingly small and meek-looking while formidable in his own right reminded Hadji very well of Blair Sandburg. It had been a term of reverend respect the Sentinel had given from almost the moment he had met Blair, and Hadji was honored to have earned a moniker as well. 'Beruang' was the word for bear in one of Jaga's languages, and he had told the story of a bear that was loyal and brave having killed a tiger to protect his farmer only for the foolish human to turn on him. Jaga had explained that, to him, a beruang meant strength and loyalty and honor, even if it also meant being an outsider. That keen analysis had shocked and warmed Hadji to the core.
With Jaga's forgiveness, Hadji picked up on their discussion from the previous night. "You were telling us that your Sentinel training is not yet complete, and yet you show remarkable control. What is still lacking?"
Blair sat down and leaned forward eagerly. He loved hearing about Jaga's Sentinel knowledge. It was so very different from everything he'd ever read or learned on the subject himself.
"Not training incomplete. Sentinel incomplete." He shifted a little closer himself and spoke as if reciting the holiest of words. "Sentinel is Sentinel from time of child, control learned at beginning. Sentinel can be Sentinel whole life alone if strong enough. But Sentinel never be true Sentinel without Nyineng."
"You said before that we had misunderstood the meaning of Nyineng," Hadji said curiously. "What does that mean?"
"Any man may see and hear," Jaga answered, "but what Sentinel see and hear is different. Any man may call Sentinel from shadow, but only Nyineng make him whole."
"You're saying there's a specific person who partners with a Sentinel and that person has some bearing on the actual skills of the Sentinel?" Blair asked. "Like how many might be able to speak to the spirits but there's always a shaman to guide the village and protect it?"
"All Nyineng are shaman, but not all shaman can be Nyineng," Jaga shook his head. "Nyineng join animal spirit of one Sentinel. Shaman can touch all animal spirits and speak to them, but not make Sentinel whole."
"What does it mean to make a Sentinel whole?" Hadji asked.
"Oh man," Blair sat back in wonder. "You're talking about combining…oh man."
"Yes," Jaga looked at Blair and stared as if he could see through him. "You are Nyineng to Sentinel. Easy to see for Sentinel with eyes. Need to learn the ways of Nyineng, but soul is right." His gaze moved over to Hadji. "You have right soul, too, Sang Beruang, even if no Sentinel yet."
"I don't understand," Hadji shook his head.
"You saw in my research that my ancient sources referred to Sentinels having a partner to help them manage their senses and keep watch when they zoned out, right?" Blair asked, his mind piecing things together swiftly.
"Yes."
"I never realized it before, but there was never any real information about that person in any of the first-person accounts, just a brief mention. But I've seen that kind of omission before, particularly when dealing with someone with a specialized role in a tribe. You can't hide the chief or the shaman from an outsider, but you might obscure the identity of someone with a sensitive role. Like how you can't hide the chief of police but you're not going to publish a list of all the city's undercover cops in the newspaper."
Blair bounced to his feet and started to pace as he thought aloud.
"Tribes might have tried to hide the identity of a Sentinel, but they would only be able to do it for so long. Sentinels were usually their most decorated warriors and scouts. They would have to be on the front lines facing off against the tribe's enemies. There'd be no way to conceal their abilities after a while. But if there was someone the Sentinel relied upon, someone the tribe trusted to take care of the Sentinel and bridge the gap between the Sentinel and the rest of their people, that person would be valuable enough to hide. And when the animal spirits merge and that person is spiritually tied to the Sentinel for life, the Sentinel would make sure no outsiders ever got too close. Of course they wouldn't let anyone publish any details about them!"
"I'm sorry – their spirit animals merge?" Hadji asked, his eyebrows almost into his turban.
"Yes, they…oh, that's not in the diss. Sorry," Blair ran a hand through his hair. "Right. Something really bad happened and I died at one point a while back." At the stricken look on Hadji's face, Blair managed a self-depreciating grin. "It didn't stick."
"Evidently not. Or I must begin to question an entirely different set of beliefs."
Blair laughed. "Jim brought me back. We had the same vision of our spirit animals joining in a flash of light."
"Now you understand," Jaga nodded. "You are Nyineng to Sentinel. Can talk me through troubles, but cannot join my spirit animal. True Sentinel can tell difference."
"So how does being Nyineng differ from what you said I can do?" Hadji asked. "Since you suggest I have the correct 'soul' but am not in this role for any Sentinels."
"I do not know. Do not have Nyineng yet. When Sentinel find Nyineng and spirits join, then both journey with shaman into jungle for many weeks. When return, can do many things. Dream together, connected by hearts, Sentinel senses stronger around Nyineng. Nyineng becomes shaman for Sentinel." Jaga looked at Hadji critically. "You already mostly shaman, more than most Nyineng. Not know how different until you become full Nyineng."
"You're suggesting there's a whole additional training period for Sentinels after they find their partner, akin to becoming a shaman. And if Jim and I went through that, it would improve his senses? That is so cool!" Then Blair sobered. "Oh man."
"What is it?" Hadji looked at him in concern.
"I bet you anything that Sunshine and his people don't know about this."
"That is a good thing, then, to my way of thinking," Hadji said stoutly. "The less truth they possess, the better."
"Yeah, I get that," Blair nodded. "But if they figure out that we aren't telling them something…"
"How could they figure it out?" Hadji asked reasonably. "As you said, they've never seen any information about a Sentinel working with a Nyineng and they have no way to know the difference. Even you yourself have not completed the mystical work to solidify your role as such. From what we have learned, it appears I am the closest thing to it we have. So unless I begin to serve as Nyineng for Jaga, they will have no frame of reference for such a thing."
"And even if somehow they did know about Nyinengs, they haven't asked about it yet so they probably don't think it's possible, or maybe it isn't even important to them. They haven't asked us anything about any of the spiritual aspects of being a Sentinel, not once. It's all hard data." Blair dropped back to his place. "They're so caught up in treating us like rats in a lab they've forgotten that even rats know how to dream."
"Jaga, what does 'Nyineng' translate to?" Hadji asked curiously.
"Word in many languages, only matters in one," he answered. "Person who sees or watches the path ahead to know the way."
"A guide," Blair said. "I know I've seen that term used before. And it's true that I've spent years guiding Jim through his senses, through zone-outs, and Incacha guided him through a lot of the mystical stuff, too."
"If the term is already known," Hadji suggested, "then perhaps we should say Guide when we mean Nyineng, to ensure they do not gather more meaning from it than they should."
"Good idea," Jaga nodded. "Nyineng is sacred. Guide is sacred. Not for them."
"So do all Sentinels seek out a Guide like Jim has me?" Blair asked.
"Yes," Jaga nodded firmly. "Sentinel can live and die alone, but not want to. Like man and woman create child, Sentinel and Guide together create great power."
Jaga suddenly tensed and Hadji at once moved to his side, sharp eyes taking everything in at once. "The cloths are too dry. Lie down, my friend." He carefully drew the gauze away from Jaga's back and with infinite gentleness lifted each of the soothing but sticky cloths until the skin was exposed. "Blair, you were correct. This is more like a sunburn now. With Jaga's usual strength, it should be healed by morning." He scooped up the cloths. "I'll just go get these wet again and I'll bring the honey with me as well."
As he left the room, Blair's eyes fell on Jaga. The young Sentinel was watching Hadji intently, a blaze in his dark eyes. He mentally reviewed their time together, noting particularly how tactile Jaga was with Hadji and how Hadji seemed to respond similarly. Not knowing Hadji before, he couldn't say if his friend was a touchy person by nature – but he'd guess he wasn't. That meant Jaga was different to him somehow.
Hmm, Blair thought to himself. I wonder.
-==OOO==-
It took Jonny and Jessie's program until just before dawn to narrow down their search enough to find what they were looking for. By tracing tenuous connections through shell corporations and false identities, eventually the relentless computer network zeroed in on a parcel of land purchased a few years prior in the Bay of Brunei. In particular, an island that was right on the border with the nations that ringed the bay, making its actual nationality uncertain at best. Two hours later, Race and Jim were standing on a dock peering across the water at it.
"Just out of curiosity," Jim remarked, smirking slightly at Race's need for binoculars, "shouldn't we alert the proper authorities?"
"Don't pull that with me," Race returned. "You know as well as I do that there's nobody to trust out here. If the government of Brunei is connected, who's to say who else is? The closest Naval base is in Singapore, but I don't have any friends out there that could keep something like this quiet, so that's just going to make a lot of noise we don't want. But believe me," his face hardened and his voice went steely, "the minute we get out of here, I'm making sure somebody hears about this."
Jim froze, but Race shook his head. "No, not you. Don't worry. Nobody has to hear anything about Sentinels to know Benton got himself kidnapped again. Heck, most times Benton gets snatched we can't even report the real reason why. Comes with the national security territory."
Jim relaxed fractionally and nodded. Then, he looked sideways. "Navy? You a squid?"
That earned him a warning frown. "I was a SEAL, thank you very much." Then he tipped his head. "Army Ranger, right?" He began to smile slowly. "I'd start the pissing contest right now, but if Benton hears I've taught Jonny any more new ways to insult soldiers he'll skin me alive."
That earned a laugh from Jim. "Tell you what. We can save it for the Army-Navy game. Jonny doesn't seem a football type of guy to me. But don't think I don't have some really good ones saved up for you."
"I wouldn't doubt it," Race confirmed. Then he sobered. "Is this going to be a problem for you, Ellison? We're basically invading private property, breaking domestic and international law, and we might have to do worse to get our people out. Are you sure you want to walk in there?"
"I'm sure." Jim squared his shoulders. "I've been a cop long enough to know that sometimes the rules have to bend if you're going to save lives. But it's not just that. Sandburg's my partner and my best friend. Every time things got hot, I'd tell him to stay in the truck. You wanna guess how many times he actually did?"
"If he's anything like the rest of my family, I'd say close to none," Race answered.
"Exactly. Not because he wasn't in way over his head or because he had a clue what he was doing. He came to back me up, no matter what. It didn't matter that he was the civilian. It didn't matter that he didn't have a gun or the training. He came because he thought I needed him." Jim looked back over the water to the building he could see clearly with his Sentinel sight. "I'm not staying in the truck this time, either."
"Good."
After a few moments of quiet, Jim glanced to Race. "What about the kids?"
"I'd leave them if I thought I could," Race said, and there was tension in his voice. "But there's no way they'll stay here. When Jonny was little, he used to trust me to get his dad out of trouble okay and he and Hadji could hang back and wait. But those three kids are a real team now. Where one goes, they all go, no matter what. If it was just Benton in there, Jonny and Jessie might be okay playing support out here. Might." He sighed. "They think they're as good as trained agents, and the trouble is that a lot of the time they're right."
Jim thought of Sandburg. "I know something about that."
-==OOO==-
Blair, Hadji, and Jaga emerged from the quiet room for dinner, keeping Jaga's back bandaged and pulling one of the loose shirts they'd been given over top to hide the true extent of the injuries' healing. Reporting on their findings to Sunshine was stilted and uncomfortable, not only because they had less to report than usual, but because they had something new to hide. Blair and Hadji were both acutely aware of every word they spoke, and so they were more clinical than usual. Even Sunshine commented on it.
"At last you look and sound the part," he'd said, gesturing towards them. "Obviously the only thing holding you back from true objectivity was that stupid vest."
"That stupid vest" had been Hadji's, a multi-pocketed, beige army jerkin he'd been wearing when they were taken out of the jungle. All three men had slowly been forced to relinquish their former clothing and adopt what had been provided – sweatpants and scrubs mostly – without any way to wash their own things. They all had thin tennis shoes but no socks, and a seemingly endless pile of functional if totally flimsy attire like what one would expect in a hospital or mental institution. Hadji had stubbornly worn his vest through it all, in spite of the stains and smell of its journey. But the vest was still sticky with honey, so Hadji had left it behind.
Hadji said nothing at the dig and Blair simply rolled his eyes and continued, but beneath the table he touched his foot to Hadji's. It was subtle conditioning to slowly allow the real world outside this lab to fall away, forgotten until they were little better than the proverbial rats in the maze. Blair knew too much psychology not to know that if they didn't get out of this routine and this place soon, they might stop thinking about escape. If they lost their identities, their sense of self and their lives beyond these white, unending walls, they might not get them back.
That worry increased when their silent visit with Benton Quest was permitted. In a strange and alarming change since their last view of him, Benton looked absolutely horrible, ragged in appearance and in action. His beard was untrimmed, his clothing rumpled, the sweatpants hanging from his waist awkwardly. There was certainly clear relief and gladness in his face at seeing his son and Blair unharmed, but he looked just so…miserable.
Hadji, of course, was more than worried at the sight of his adoptive father. He made a few sharp gestures, unfamiliar to Blair, and Doctor Quest returned them tiredly. Then he began to mime something, Hadji miming in return as he interpreted the meanings of the motions. When the video feed was cut at last, Hadji stalked back to the quiet room, shoulders held high and tense.
"What is it?" Blair asked as soon as the three of them were in the room and the door was shut.
"I do not understand all of what he wanted me to know," Hadji admitted, sitting on the pallet that was his and looking like he wanted nothing more than to hide under it. Jaga paused for a moment before settling himself between Hadji and the door. When the Indian went silent, it was Jaga who touched his shoulder gently to urge him on.
Blair noted it, but didn't say anything, taking his own place on the other pallet across from Hadji.
"If I am correctly interpreting Doctor Quest's references," the young man said, his usually even voice touched with a tremor, "he was roused from sleep in the middle of last night to continue his work. He believes he has completed his task, and the rush seems to be due to a desire by our captors to remove him from the premises quite soon." He closed his eyes. "I believe Doctor Quest has been doing more research than that which has been set to him, and tomorrow he will be rewarded for it."
"Those bastards!" Blair cursed. "Well, if they sell him off to the highest bidder, they're not getting any more cooperation from me!"
"I agree," Jaga said solidly. "Sang Beruang, does he believe they come to kill him?"
"No," Hadji shook his head. "It's like Blair says. They're going to sell him to somebody." Hadji rose from his place on shaky legs. "If you will excuse me."
He ducked out the door before either man could stop him. Aware that he was being monitored, Hadji wandered the hallways of the windowless prison seemingly aimlessly, but he was not aimless at all. After passing the same door several times, he entered the gymnasium-like room. He breathed out long and slow before taking up a repetitive task of pushups as though working off nervous tension. It was not out of character for any of them – all three had at times needed a physical release from the stress of their situation. However, after several minutes, Hadji's patience snapped.
In the back of his mind, Hadji knew Jonny or Race would have thrown their bodies against a punching bag or even the wall, slamming it over and over again until their hands bled. What he chose was no less brutal, if a bit less violent: Hadji began pushing himself through a demanding kata, driving his fists and feet as though the air was the enemy that confined him. He did not move on from the form, repeating it again and again, faster and faster until he was a blur of motion – precise and dangerous.
But his foot slipped and Hadji found himself careening to the floor. And in that moment of frenzied momentum, he found he didn't care very much at all.
Hadji blinked his eyes to find that his head had not hit the hard floor beneath him; instead, Jaga was there having eased Hadji to the ground mid-fall and catching his head in his lap. The Sentinel looked down at Hadji with dark, troubled eyes.
Hadji opened his mouth to apologize, to pull back his detached, unruffled defenses, but Jaga shook his head once sharply. He stopped.
Jaga said nothing, simply remained with his feet under him and Hadji's head held on his lap, eyes fixed on the young man. Hadji stared unseeingly at the ceiling, his body aching from his exertion and his repressed fear and pain. Even if there had not been cameras, Hadji could not have even attempted to speak to the wealth of fear coursing through him, fear for his father, fear for himself, fear for the rest of their family who had not yet come for them. And now it would be too late.
Hadji met his desolation with silence and stillness, but he allowed Jaga to see it happen.
-==OOO==-
"So," Race wrapped up, "with the stuff Jonny and Jessie hacked from I don't even want to know where, we've got a pretty good idea of the layout of the place. If we gave it another day, we could get even more intel. But that would be one more day for them inside."
He looked around, pinning the other three in his blue gaze. "I want opinions from all of you."
"All we've got are blueprints," Jessie said first, "and that's because we took them from the government. We don't know anything about what's inside there. It seems stupid to go in when we are practically blind."
"Even me," Jim said slowly. "Every window facing this direction is covered, and when I try to listen out there I get a lot of blank nothing. The only time I've ever seen that before is somebody using a white noise generator. I might get more once we're inside, and I'll have my other senses to go by, too."
"I vote we go now!" Jonny declared, eyes flashing. "They've been in there for a week. We don't even know if those people are feeding them!"
"Everything points to them wanting to keep everyone alive," Jessie said, even if her face was not nearly as composed and rational as her words – she was clearly worried to the bone as well, if better at controlling it.
Suddenly Jim shivered, flinching visibly.
"You okay?" Race was quick to ask.
"Yeah, fine," he replied, shaking his head to clear it. But then he stopped. "You remember how I told you at the beginning that I get good hunches sometimes?"
Race nodded, waiting.
"I'm getting one," Jim said, feeling the dread build as he gave it voice. "I think if we wait one more day, we'll regret it."
"Good enough for me," Race said decisively. He looked at Jonny, fierce and eager; at Jessie, her own eyes flashing with her legendary protective spirit; at Jim, whose face could give granite a run for its money in sheer solidity. Race's own gut had been acting on him, too. Even if his brain might agree with Jessie's point, everything else was screaming otherwise.
"Everybody get some rest," he ordered. "We move out at oh-two-hundred. We're bringing them home tonight."
