A Place to Call Home
By Terri Osborne
terri@terriosborne.com
Part 15
All Babylon 5 characters and settings belong to JMS, Warner Brothers, TNT and anyone else with legitimate legal claim. No infringement of copyright is intended by this work. Only a few select characters are mine, and should the Great Maker need them, or anyone similar to them, I can probably be bought off with a story credit. ;-)
Even though this covers the same time period and the same major event, no infringement upon J. Gregory Keyes' novels is intended. Though, I will draw upon them for some background information.
Content Warning: [AC] [AL]
Anything encased in * these * is telepathic speech.
A note from the author: This story centers around three characters, Susan Ivanova, Alina Minette (yes, she's baaaack) and, to a certain extent, Lyta Alexander. To the I&M'ers out there, stay tuned, my friends. For the spoiler-allergic, provided you haven't read it already, I would recommend waiting to read Only Those Whose Lives Are Brief. In an intentional Babylon Squared/WWE homage, the flipside of at least one scene in Brief will show up here.
Since I'm not sure of everyone's schedules, I'll include this potential spoiler warning: I'm a continuity junkie, so this includes events through Season 5, as well as things that were revealed in the closing credits of Sleeping in Light. (If you've seen it, you'll know exactly what I'm talking about. If not, that's okay, it's not quite that obvious.) Background information on the Psi Corps comes from the Keyes novels. Set in the same potential future as Only Those Whose Lives Are Brief. Considering that this covers the time frame of late 2263 - early 2265, I suppose everything is a potential spoiler (though, it would be one INCREDIBLY lucky guess).
And thanks to Sarah, Sharon and Keith, my eagle-eyed beta readers! Virtual boxes of Godivas to all of you!
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April 4, 2264 - 11:43 p.m.
Alone in the darkened
conference room, Alina stared at the text on the portable display. A small table lamp
teamed with the display's tiny screen to give her what little illumination they could
manage.
It was enough for her needs.
She turned on the audio
recorder as she struggled with the text. A part of her wished Delenn had sent a
translation. Reading the intellectual meanderings of a Valerian priestess written 400
years before Alina had even been born was difficult enough. Translating them from the
original, centuries-outdated dialect was proving to be a Herculean task in itself. So much
was open to interpretation, even to someone who had spent years in a Minbari temple
studying ancient religious texts. At least those texts had been translated since the
human race developed space travel, she thought, flipping to the next section.
This stupid file was going to
slowly drive her insane.
"Pon'sha," she
mused into the microphone. "Well, it's either death of the soul' or
the Minbari equivalent of sexual pleasure."
She pondered the options.
" Death of the
soul' it is."
Paragraph after paragraph the
translation grew more difficult. The only thing she had to assist her was Delenn's
assurance that the text was about the passing of a Minbari soul into the collective.
It was little help.
"What are you still doing
up?"
Switching off the recorder,
she turned to find Andrew Keene standing in the corridor. From the somewhat rumpled look
of him, he was just as tired as she felt. "I could ask you the same question,"
she replied. With a gesture toward the chair nearest her, she added, "I was just
thinking of making some caff. It's instant, but you're welcome to join me."
With a yawn, he slid into the
proffered chair. "Sounds good. I was just working on that idea for the bloodhound
watch. You've put together an odd group there, Alina."
"Blame the Minbari,"
she replied with a smile. "They're the ones who concocted the details. Every
person we saw fits one of the requirements to perfection."
One hand over hers, he stopped
her as she rose to get hot water for the caff. "That's important to you,
isn't it?"
"What is?"
"Perfection. Everything
has to be perfect for you; what you do, who you are."
Her dark brow furrowed.
"What is that supposed to mean?"
"Nothing," he
quickly replied. "It's just that there are times when I think you might be . . .
a little too perfect, that's all. You said it yourself, the Vorlons couldn't
program you. What did they call you? Beauty in the dark'? You were stable, the
altered telepaths weren't. Did you ever stop to consider that you might have been the
ideal result of their little experiments?"
Alina's lips opened to
protest, but it took time for her to find the words. When she did, they were not the words
she had expected.
"You're right. I
suppose I am rather fussy about things being in order."
"Fussy? You call taking
almost two full weeks to go over the files on those few people we ended up with
fussy?"
"I was trained to heal
people, Andrew," she stated. "Mistakes are not part of the plan. People die if I
make a mistake. And the Vorlons never experimented on me. Don't forget
that."
Pulling her hand from his, she
slowly walked over to the small recess in the wall that held the hot water kettle. Ideas
were free-flowing through her mind. What had the Vorlons thought of her? She had
always deemed her position with them a clean-up crew' post, simply because of
the nature of the job. Cleaning up after an ancient race was hardly grounds to be
considered perfection.
And what about her abilities?
Just because she had such unusual abilities hardly meant it didn't do her damage to
use them. Had the night spent in the Infirmary after saving Kelly's life shown him
nothing? She had long since lost count of the number of nights she had spent in hospitals
on both Arisia and Minbar.
"I'm sorry. I know
they didn't do anything to you. But Alina, people are going to die if you push
yourself too hard on this. You can't be planning these raids and working on the
Circle. You're exhausting yourself again. I don't know about you, but I start
making mistakes if I get too tired. What if we waited on the Circle until after the
fighting is over? Your friend is in cryo. He's got all the time in the world."
Pouring the water into her
mug, she shook her head. "He does, but Susan doesn't. We can't wait. You
don't understand, Andrew. It's his life energy that's keeping her alive.
Her personality is functional, at least according to Lyta and Mister Garibaldi. But that
telepathic signature . . . ."
"Your friend?"
"Yes. If we wait too long
to separate them, we may not be able to. I saw this before when I was on Minbar. One of
the telepaths I knew when I was first brought to Minbar ended up transporting the Vorlon
ambassador after their shuttle was damaged in an accident. They were stranded in space for
a few days. After their ship was recovered, they were brought into the hospital where I
was doing my medical training. He wasn't responding verbally, so I had to make
contact with him as I was working, make sure he understood what was happening. What I
picked up was more Vorlon than Minbari."
She could see the light
beginning to dawn in his eyes. "They were mixing."
"Yes."
"I take it you were able
to separate them?"
The memories of one poor
telepath's final days of freedom replayed in her mind; the fear, the chaos, the
terror that had all but consumed the small Valerian temple where she had lived. No one
would believe that a Minbari could behave in such a manner, let alone that a Minbari could
and would kill anyone who crossed his path. The memory of the peaceful creature that the
telepath had been before the accident was still fresh in her mind. The idea that a Vorlon
could have caused such a change, it was simply unbelievable to the Minbari. To her it had
simply been another example of their callousness toward the younger races.
After a long sip of the caff,
she replied, "No. I tried everything I could think of, even if it was just a theory.
He was never properly prepared to carry a Vorlon, Andrew. Nothing would help him. The
Vorlons wouldn't lift a finger. Surprised me considering how protective they were of
their own. The Grey Council ordered him sequestered in the temples. They demanded that he
avoid contact with any living being. He couldn't keep his emotions in check. There
were bursts of homicidal mania. He very nearly killed three acolytes for simply trying to
bring him food. When he spoke, it was nothing anyone could understand. By human standards,
he'd gone completely mad."
Andrew's jaw dropped.
"And you're saying if we don't separate Ivanova and your friend the same
thing might happen to them?"
She looked down at the spoon
as it swirled in the mug of hot caff. "Speaking as a healer, that's my opinion,
yes. Though, considering that it would be two humans, I doubt if Susan would become
homicidal. The influence isn't quite so alien."
"When it rains, it
pours."
"Pardon?" she asked,
raising her gaze.
He quickly shook his head.
"Nothing."
"No," she softly
said, sinking back into her chair, "I think I understand. First you find out about
Lyta, now this. I'm sorry, Andrew. I-"
"Wanted everything to
turn out differently?" he gently teased. "Why am I not surprised?"
A blush slowly crept onto her
features. "Go to bed. You need sleep, and I need more work on this. Delenn thinks it
might be important."
He watched her for a long
moment. "All right," he relented. Leaning across the table, he caught her gaze.
"Just promise me one thing?"
"What?"
"You won't push
yourself too hard. Put Syria Planum first. Right now, that's the most important
thing. Surely Ivanova can wait until we get this raid over with. It's only a few
weeks."
She gave him a soft smile.
"You're worried I'll make a mistake in planning the raid, aren't
you?"
He slowly nodded. "I
can't lie to you. Yes."
"I know it's no good
telling you this, but I'm doing my best on all fronts. Syria Planum will get all of
the attention it deserves. I promise you, it will be the best plan I can come up
with."
He slowly rose from the chair.
"Will you do me a favor?"
"Of course."
"Let us look it over
before we decide to go with it. If everyone agrees it's sound, we go?"
"I was planning on that,
anyway."
With a nod, he turned toward
the corridor.
"Andrew?" she asked,
stopping him before he could leave.
"Yes?"
"I know you're
worried, but you can trust me."
A slow smile crept onto his
features. "Good night, Alina."
[End Part 15]