Irina didn't know what exactly the bitch had managed to get, but she could feel that it had been something. That was more than she had been intending to allow the other woman to get, a hell of a lot more, and the anger simmered quickly and seared through her veins even as she pulled back enough from Miguel's mind to be present in her own physical surroundings. She came back around with a sound like a growl knotting at the back of her throat and almost immediately Evan was entering her field of vision and frowning at her. Questioning.
"Whatever happens," she said to him, her voice strained and made tight by that anger, "I'm going to kill that little bitch." And she meant that word, little, in more ways than one. Wendy Smith was so utterly beneath her that it should have been laughable, but her interference was already far beyond irritating. Irina couldn't stand for it. Wouldn't stand for it. She hadn't set out to eliminate anyone aboard the seaQuest but things had changed. Plans had changed.
Doctor Wendy Smith had made sure of that when she had entered Irina's domain unwelcome and uninvited. That kind of breach of her territory would not go unpunished, she would see to that, and whether she used her own hands or Miguel's to get the job done—well, that remained to be seen.
"I'm fine," she said after that, into the silence that had followed her proclamation, aggressive and pointed as it had been.
The question had been written all over Evan's face and she hadn't even needed to listen to his mind, but she did so anyway, if only habitually. By this point in their time together it felt stranger not to read him and he was well beyond used to it by now. He had never shied away from her powers, if anything he had been intrigued and drawn by them, wanting to know more, experience more, and Irina had never seen any reason not to indulge him. And so they were together in all things nowadays, where one was to be found the other was likely close by, and they made a good team. She would even be so bold as to say a great one.
Rising from her chair and in doing so allaying any fears contrary to her statement that Evan might have had, she started to pace around the open space they had decided to inhabit. With less clutter in her surroundings she felt better able to focus and that had been the case for her for as long as she could remember. It was a preference more than an actual necessity but there was no denying the fact that crowded areas made for more complications, more noise to filter through and dismiss so she could fix her attention on the one thing she was interested in. This space, this old and forgotten workroom, suited her needs perfectly.
"They know more than I intended for them to find out," she told Evan, who stood near her chair and watched her without interfering in any way. He just listened. "But that's merely a bump in the road, and nothing more," she went on, turning her head to face him, noticing with a flicker of pleasure that his attention was fixed on her and nothing else, and that he shifted his position to follow her no matter which way she moved. "Plans have changed, but I can use this to my benefit." She spoke confidently, with the sort of self-assurance that had seen her through numerous years that would have otherwise been so much rougher and leaner. "They think their closeness is a strength, that their bonds and connections bring them safety and protection." She made a scoffing sound, offering Evan a smile that was anything but kind, though that bite was aimed anywhere but at him. "They're wrong."
Evan did speak then, taking the cue that she had laid out for him. "It makes them weaker."
"Exactly." Her smile became more genuine then, more satisfied, and she moved towards Evan instead of around him, striding close enough to reach out and lay a hand against his broad, firm chest. His heart was a steady, strong drumbeat against her palm. "If they need to learn that lesson the hard way, then so be it. I'm happy to teach them." Evan smiled back at her, looking down at her with the sort of fondness and admiration that she had not only come to appreciate but expect from it. "We'll teach them," she amended, feeling a rush of warm pleasure when Evan's smile grew to the point that he showed teeth.
As with all things they were in this together. And as with all things, they would emerge victorious.
Having the meeting, such as it was, in the med bay instead of the ward room might have seemed strange if not for the circumstances that had brought them all here. O'Neill was in no condition to be out of bed just yet and he had every right to be part of the discussion, and so that left them little in the way of options when it came to venue. It had meant asking all of the other medical staff outside of Wendy herself to temporarily vacate the area though, barring some sort of emergency. They hadn't been too thrilled by the prospect but given who was asking them they said nothing and did as they were told.
Once everyone was convened, gathered together by Brody's message to the Captain who had seen fit to rally the rest of the senior staff and key personnel, one by one each set of eyes turned towards Wendy. She was the reason they had all been summoned, after all, the one who had something important to share, and even though she had only asked for Nathan it made sense to fill everyone else in at the same time. Still, she couldn't help but feel the slightest bit daunted by so much attention on her all at once. Normally she wasn't the nervous sort but this whole situation had her more than a little on edge.
She took in a breath, steeling herself for the discussion to come, glancing around at the faces of those gathered before she started to speak. She had already shared the basics, what she had seen and felt, but the most important revelation was saved for last. "Her name is Irina Dvornikov." She took a moment to gauge any reactions before going on, "It could be an alias of some kind but I don't think so, not the way she was guarding it. It took everything I had to get through the walls she had up around the name and it takes strength to build those kinds of walls, let alone maintain them."
Nathan turned his head to the youngest member of the group. "Lucas?"
"I'll see what I can find," he said from his place perched at the foot of O'Neill's bed. The Lieutenant had shifted his legs to allow the teenager to do so. "Though odds are anyone who's going to go to those lengths to keep their identity secret psychically is going to be hard to find on the Net." The roughness in his voice had eased up a little but it still had a way to go and they could all hear it. Every now and then he lifted a hand and rubbed unconsciously at his throat, which was starting to show signs of bruising. It would get worse, darker, but knowing Lucas he wouldn't let that stop him.
"If anyone can find that information it's going to be you," Nathan said, meeting the teenager's eyes and giving him a small nod of encouragement and support. Lucas' response was a deep inhale and then a nod of his own, as if conceding the point but without any sort of display of arrogance the likes of which would have come quickly, almost automatically, only a little over a year ago. When Wendy had first met Lucas she had picked up on it but it had been tempered even then. She had heard stories though, most of them from Nathan himself, though Commander Ford hadn't been shy about sharing his own experiences with the ego of an adolescent. At least in Lucas' case there was actual intelligence and skill to back it up, not that that excused any sort of attitude. Wendy was glad that she had never had to experience more than the odd little outburst.
It was Ford who spoke next, turning his gaze to Wendy as he did so. "Did she say what she wants?" he asked from his place by O'Neill's bed, his hand resting lightly on the very top of the rearmost rail. "I know we already know the basics but did she make any demands?"
"Other than for me to get out?" Wendy shook her head. "No," she said, allowing the others to hear the quiet frustration and disappointment in her voice. "I would say she felt threatened by my presence but the sad truth of it is that I'm no match for her. And she knows it. The contempt—" She cut herself off with a shake of her head. "I've never felt anything like it."
"You never felt contempt before?" Piccolo asked her, somewhat incredulously from the other side of the room. "I figured that'd be a pretty common one."
"I've felt it," she agreed, "but this was so personal. So focused."
"Are you sure you don't know this woman?" Brody asked her. "Maybe it is personal."
"No." Wendy was certain and she made sure that conviction carried in her tone. "I've never seen her before, or heard her name. And I've never felt her energy before." She saw the uncertain looks many of them tossed her way and went on, "Every psychic feels different. It's like with Charlie. Once I had one experience with his energy, his power, I was able to recognise it from that point on."
"How does that help us?" Ford asked, sounding his usual sceptical self and Wendy could feel the first brushes of that scepticism as she looked at him. She didn't blame him for it though. How could she?
"It doesn't," she admitted with a sigh. "I'm sorry," she said then, briefly dropping her gaze. "I wish I had been able to get more."
"You got us a lot more than we had before you went in there," Nathan cut in, compassion in his eyes when she looked up to meet them. She managed the smallest smile for him even as he went on, "And at least now we know who we're dealing with, as well as what."
"So what does this mean?" Piccolo asked, arms crossed and his eyes moving quickly as he looked from one face to the next. "We gotta do some kinda exorcism or somethin'?" It would have been a ridiculous suggestion coming from anyone else but Wendy could feel that there was no sarcasm or anything else remotely mean-spirited behind the query. He genuinely didn't know, and was just as sincere in his desire to help. There was so much more to him than met the eye, or most people were willing to see, and Wendy was sorry for that.
O'Neill turned a somewhat cynical look in the Seaman's direction. "That's for spirits, Tony." He sounded tired but any suggestions on her part that he get some rest had been met with firm refusals and insistences that he was up for this.
With a shake of his head and a shrug Piccolo asked, "How's this different?"
Lucas joined the conversation then, meeting his roommate's gaze steadily and saying with a stiff kind of patience, "Because wherever this woman is, she's alive. You can't exorcise a living person."
"Says who? How'd you know until we try?" Obviously Piccolo wasn't going to relent on this idea that easily. Wendy had to admire his persistence and the determination behind it. There was something to be said for those who had the courage to more or less always speak their mind, even if such boldness often threatened to drop them in hot water.
Lieutenant O'Neill sighed, an action that probably pained him at least a little. "Tony—"
Wendy shook her head, interjecting, "No, I think I know what Tony's trying to say. And theoretically, something similar is possible. She's already done it to me once, after all. Forcing a psychic out of someone's head can be done, but it takes another psychic. And they have to have power."
"Which you don't have?" Nathan was frowning subtly, the slightest crease furrowing his brow. He had chosen to make those words into a question rather than a statement, softening the blow that they otherwise might have dealt. Wendy wouldn't have taken the assumption too personally, she was fairly sure, but she appreciated the effort all the same.
She shook her head, looking regretful and apologetic. "I don't think so, no." She sighed and lifted a hand, touching it to her brow. She had had a headache since coming around from whatever comatose state this Irina woman had left her in but it had been easing up. After being expelled so violently from Ortiz's mind it was starting to resurface. Something told her that taking aspirin or any other type of ordinary painkiller wouldn't even begin to touch it.
"Where does that leave us?" Brody's arms were crossed now as well, and he spared a glance over his shoulder to the still-unconscious figure of their Sensor Chief. "How are we supposed to get her out of Miguel's head?"
"We can't just leave her in there." It was the first time Henderson had spoken since the beginning of the meeting. Several sets of eyes turned in her direction suddenly enough to make it clear that many of those present had forgotten she was there. Henderson hesitated for a moment, shifting her weight a little on the stool she had chosen to occupy, and then said, "You said he looked hurt." Her gaze turned in Wendy's direction specifically then.
There was no sense in trying to downplay the situation, and she had already given the basics of the situation when they had all arrived, before her reveal of the woman's name. She couldn't very well take those facts back now. "I couldn't tell just how badly, but I could feel it."
"Wait." Piccolo's face had scrunched up more than a little. "How's she hurtin' him in his own head? It's not real in there or nothin', right? It's like—" Not sure of which words to use he uncrossed his arms and made a small, slightly frantic gesture with his hands. "I dunno what you call it. But it's mental. It's not physical."
"No," Wendy agreed, thinking as quickly as she could how best to describe it to someone who had very little experience with the phenomenon. "But you remember how it was with Clay," she said, and saw the grimace and slight shudder that overcame Tony then. "It feels real, and this Irina woman, she can make it as real as she needs it to be in order to get what she wants."
"But he'll be okay, right?" Henderson sounded like she already knew that the answer wasn't going to be something she would enjoy hearing.
At first she didn't respond, thinking whether or not to be kind or to just be honest. In the end, as usual, she settled for the latter. "I don't know." The truth was painful but lies, even ones meant kindly, were ultimately even more so. "I've never dealt with anything like this before. The closest we've ever come is when Clay came aboard."
It was Lucas' turn to look uncomfortable. He had experienced no long-term negative effects from her old mentor's treatment of him but she knew he had suffered. The guilt she felt for that was still strong, and something she was starting to suspect she would never fully shake.
"How is she even doing this in the first place?" Jim asked, frustration plain for all to hear in his voice. "I thought all psychics had a range, a limit. Are we saying this woman doesn't have one? We know she's not in Renford, so how is she reaching out this far, let alone with enough power to take full control of someone else?"
That was another very good question, and one Wendy couldn't wrap her mind around. She gave the Lieutenant a small shake of her head in response, hating that she couldn't give him anymore more.
"When Clay Marshall came aboard," Nathan said, turning everyone's attention in his direction, "he only did so as a result of Piccolo and Dagwood having that shared dream."
"A dream he planted there in the first place," Ford agreed.
"He was able to reach across vast distances to manipulate someone else psychically." Nathan turned his eyes first to Wendy and then Lucas, who straightened a little in his seat at the end of O'Neill's bed.
"You think this woman might be like him," he said, catching on to what the Captain was suggesting. "Cybernetically enhanced, and therefore stronger."
"But Clay Marshall needed syntium in order to function at full capacity," Ford cut in with a shake of his head. "We haven't seen any evidence that this woman is after the same thing, have we?" He, like the Captain, was addressing Lucas more than the room in general.
"No," Lucas confirmed, sounding pensive. "She's after codes and schematics, designs and research materials."
Nathan straightened as well then, looking first to his Executive Officer, and then his Security Officer. "Items of value," he said then, somewhat gravely. "How much do you think that information would be worth on the black market?"
Lucas' brows rose and he gave a small scoff. "To the right buyers?" He shook his head and exhaled, heavily. "We're talking potentially millions of dollars."
Ford took his hand from the head of O'Neill's bed. "And think of the damage that information could do in the wrong hands," he said grimly. He looked across the room to Brody, whose grave expression matched the Commander's perfectly.
"She could start a war," the Lieutenant said.
"Yes," Nathan agreed soberly, and Wendy could have sworn some of the colour had drained out of his face. She felt the dread that raced through him even before his next words had started to leave his mouth. The bottom of her stomach was already well on its way to dropping out when he said, gravely, and with a sense of grim certainty, "A world war."