Last Call -- Chapter 13: Questions and Communication
"I'm going to assume you speak Standard English because my Minbari is
horrible." Gideon grinned behind his visor as he stood with his back to
the cycled airlock, the magnetic locks on his EVA boots keeping him
upright. The Minbari male he spoke to lazily opened his eyes as if he
had been awoken from deep sleep. He slouched against the wall,
illuminated by the lights from Gideon's helmet.
"Don't want to take my chances and say something that would offend your
mother." Matthew staggered closer, his boots sliding then locking
against the deck with each footfall. The Minbari tried to speak but
found his mouth too dry for words, slowly tracing his tongue across his
lips before a small croak escaped his throat.
"Most say my English is not offensive so that is fine." The Minbari
managed a slight smile and clutched his EVA helmet to his lap, groaning
as it pressed against his right arm that oddly crossed over his body.
Gideon figured it was broken and winced in sympathy.
"Matthew Gideon." The Captain bent down close enough so the Minbari
wouldn't have to force his eyes to focus.
"An'la'shok Drefen."
"Rangers?" Now Gideon understood the pilot's need for a cloak and
dagger routine in front of the Drakh. Drefen nodded and Matthew turned
his head, casting light over the area around the Minbari. Three other
crewmembers wore similar old style EVA suits; big, bulky, and blue with
large helmets that had manual UV shields for space excursions. One
rested beside Drefen, motionless and more than likely unconscious. The
others were strapped into zero-gee net bivouacs that hung from tethers
attached on the ceiling.
"The pilot?" Gideon nodded at the figure beside Drefen.
"Naomi, yes. The others," Drefen pointed with his left hand. "Daniel
and Karnier are seriously wounded."
"I might need your help. Can you stand?"
The Minbari blinked a few times as if mentally preparing himself to
move. As he pushed off from the wall, he lengthened the retractable
tether on his utility belt and straightened his body. Gradually he came
to an upright position.
"I'm not sure what use I'll be. My right arm was broken while I made
repairs to the plasma engines." Drefen paused, trying to control his
breathing. "That's why I left my helmet off."
"What do you mean?"
"I needed to make sure I was conscious when you came. There is
something you need to do."
Matthew didn't understand the logic of it; more air would have been
supplied to him if he had worn the helmet. But perhaps the Minbari had
meant that it would be easier to communicate if he had left it off. The
Captain didn't question it, knowing the confusion was probably a
manifestation of oxygen deprivation. Drefen struggled to keep himself
upright against the wall.
"You mean besides getting all of you off this ship? That is all I came
for, let's get that clear." Gideon was running out of time. For all he
knew the Drakh had broken through Galen's ruse and were already on
approach.
"No...yes...I mean that case there is more important than me. Take that
instead if you have to, please. Make sure that gets to the proper
destination. Medical vaccination for Kegaan 8." Drefen pointed to a
medical supply crate strapped down near the pilot. "Please make sure it
gets there."
The Minbari slumped over, the lack of oxygen and added movement finally
taking their toll. Gideon knew Minbari were a particularly resilient
race just as long as they didn't have to endure high heat. Grace under
pressure was their strong suit, but like all races, they had limits.
Drefen had exceeded his. Matthew reached for the helmet and carefully
fitted the opening around the Minbari's bone crest, trying not to scrape
the seals against the purplish laceration on his bruised brow. When
Gideon finally had it in place, he twisted the seal and clamped it, then
locked the UV visor into place. A small twist on the regulator mounted
to the chest of the suit released the oxygen supply and Matthew turned
it to full, hoping to resuscitate Drefen.
He took another look at the case as he opened his pack, pulling out the
harnesses and a few lengths of the strapping. It wasn't like a Minbari,
and definitely not the Rangers, to deal in black market drugs so the
case had to be legitimate. Matthew knew he had to work quickly; if he
could bring along the medicine he would, but his primary concern was the
crew. Starting with Drefen, he began to place them in the harnesses.
*~*~*~*
He was on autopilot, relying on instinct to decipher the insane rush of
information his brain tried to contain and was quickly failing to keep
it straight. The Drakh AI system was beginning to question his input
further and just by strength of sheer will, Galen prevented it from
discovering all of what was really happening. But soon it would take
more than will power to force the system into believing the illusion
that something wasn't out in space before it. The Technomage had felt a
back surge at one point as the AI tried to legitimize the source, and
quickly he rerouted it back into its own relays to confuse it. The
detour wouldn't last long and eventually the system would try again with
more power and focus.
Galen sat soaked in sweat. The additional expenditure of energy his
implants gave off raised his body temperature and somewhere amidst the
barrage on his brain, Galen found a brief moment to have his ship adjust
the cabin temperature to something that would cool his body without the
side effect of shivering. He couldn't afford to have his muscles wound
any tighter than they already were.
Fragmenting his concentration, the Technomage found Gideon's transponder
in the chaos. Dismayed in the fact it was still pulsing from inside the
Toledo, Galen forced himself to breathe and pushed back the pain and
searing heat, not knowing how much more he could stand. Deceiving one
Drakh ship would have been relatively simple, but a fleet of eleven was
a greater task than he had ever imagined. Galen feared there wouldn't
be enough left of himself to burn at a funeral if Gideon didn't hurry.
*~*~*~*
"How are they doing? Can you sense anything?" The contours of
Dureena's brow creased deeply, showing her concern. She was worried
about Galen and Gideon, and Matheson shared the sentiment. Her emotions
leaked from her less than with most people, but it was still apparent to
the telepath even if she hadn't said anything.
"No, I'm not that strong." The Lieutenant turned in the command chair
to face her as she stood beside him. "I would need a line of sight
anyway."
"I know, I had just hoped...well I suppose it doesn't matter. Either
they'll make it or they won't and there's not much we can do about
that." She forced a weary smile and crossed her arms over her chest,
picking at the seams of her rawhide jacket with a fingernail.
"You're right, but it still doesn't make the wait any less annoying.
And I'm ordered to maintain radio silence, so it's not like I can call
for a status update either." The young man sighed, looking back down at
the comp pad in his lap. He couldn't read any further than the second
sentence; unable to concentrate on the resource usage report he
downloaded from the Excalibur's system earlier. Using the stylus, he
closed the document and shut off the small device. Matheson stood and
placed it on the chair.
"All right, I'm past due for a break and I'm in the mood for coffee.
Care to join me?"
Dureena's eyes widened at the invitation and she accepted it with a nod,
needing something to occupy her as well. The thought of another
expedition through the between decks of the Excalibur didn't have its
usual appeal. She thought it would take her several years to crawl
through all the unlikely places within the ship's mile-and-a-quarter
limits, but she had been disappointed in the lack of creativity used to
design the ship. It had only taken her a few months. Everything was
boringly functional and utilized, although her adventures did keep her
in practice and in shape.
"Sounds better than just wandering around on my own waiting for word."
"Helm, contact me if there's any signal either from the Captain, Galen's
flyer, or if something happens in the Ghayn system. I want to hear
about it even if you think it's insignificant."
"Aye, sir."
They stood in companionable silence as they took the lift to the living
quarters level and walked the rest of the distance to the commissary.
Dureena opted for tea instead of coffee, her hand surrounding the
ceramic mug in a way that mirrored Matheson. The room was nearly empty
except for a few of Eilerson's IPX staff discussing the latest
archaeological find published in a recent journal.
"Can I ask you a personal question, Lieutenant?" Dureena watched the
swirl of steam rise from her mug before she took a small sip.
"How personal is personal?" He smiled and turned the com link
microphone away from his mouth before he tasted his own beverage. "If
it's going to be really personal, maybe you should call me John."
"Oh, I'm sorry, you have a first name?" She smirked widely and he shook
his head. "I thought Lieutenant Matheson was your only name. All
right, John, what's it like?"
"What's what like?" Suddenly he laughed, realizing how obtuse he was
being. "Sorry, I'm just not sure what you mean."
"Being a telepath. Being able to read people's thoughts and emotions--"
"Regulations prevent me from scanning anyone without consent." Matheson
interrupted a little too harshly. Dureena frowned.
"No need to get defensive, that's not what I meant. You have an ability
I don't, although I do think I'm a decent judge of character. I'm
curious, that's all." Matheson's face softened slightly.
"All right. I'll answer if I'm allowed to ask a question."
"Sounds fair enough."
"Why did you become a thief?" For a moment, John thought he had angered
her-Dureena's gaze returned to her mug and she stroked the curved side
of the ceramic with her fingernails.
"I had little choice. My parents sold me when I was young to pay off
their debts. The man that happened to purchase me was a member of the
Thieve's Guild and made sure I could make him a profit. Eventually I
outgrew my usefulness to him and he gave me my freedom." Matheson
sensed she was hiding something more, but didn't want to pry. She told
him what she was comfortable with him knowing and now he had to return
the favor.
"Some days having telepathy is a great asset, on other's it's a curse.
For the most part, I'm able to shut out the impressions I get from
normals, but it's like having a swarm of insects around your head-I
always pick up something.
"I guess you and I are a lot alike. I was thirteen when my telepathy
developed and I had to leave my family for the Psi Corps training center
in Geneva. It was...enlightening, but I resented the fact I had to be
away from my parents and the people I loved. Twenty years later and I'm
still not sure I like any of it. I definitely don't like being a poster
child for the Bureau of Telepath Integration, but I'm glad I finally got
the opportunity to do what I've always wanted."
Matheson rested his elbows on the table and crossed his legs at the
ankles. Pulling his hands away from the mug, he looked at his bare
palms. "I don't think I answered your question, did I?"
Dureena smiled. "That's okay. You answered enough of it."
"I'm going to assume you speak Standard English because my Minbari is
horrible." Gideon grinned behind his visor as he stood with his back to
the cycled airlock, the magnetic locks on his EVA boots keeping him
upright. The Minbari male he spoke to lazily opened his eyes as if he
had been awoken from deep sleep. He slouched against the wall,
illuminated by the lights from Gideon's helmet.
"Don't want to take my chances and say something that would offend your
mother." Matthew staggered closer, his boots sliding then locking
against the deck with each footfall. The Minbari tried to speak but
found his mouth too dry for words, slowly tracing his tongue across his
lips before a small croak escaped his throat.
"Most say my English is not offensive so that is fine." The Minbari
managed a slight smile and clutched his EVA helmet to his lap, groaning
as it pressed against his right arm that oddly crossed over his body.
Gideon figured it was broken and winced in sympathy.
"Matthew Gideon." The Captain bent down close enough so the Minbari
wouldn't have to force his eyes to focus.
"An'la'shok Drefen."
"Rangers?" Now Gideon understood the pilot's need for a cloak and
dagger routine in front of the Drakh. Drefen nodded and Matthew turned
his head, casting light over the area around the Minbari. Three other
crewmembers wore similar old style EVA suits; big, bulky, and blue with
large helmets that had manual UV shields for space excursions. One
rested beside Drefen, motionless and more than likely unconscious. The
others were strapped into zero-gee net bivouacs that hung from tethers
attached on the ceiling.
"The pilot?" Gideon nodded at the figure beside Drefen.
"Naomi, yes. The others," Drefen pointed with his left hand. "Daniel
and Karnier are seriously wounded."
"I might need your help. Can you stand?"
The Minbari blinked a few times as if mentally preparing himself to
move. As he pushed off from the wall, he lengthened the retractable
tether on his utility belt and straightened his body. Gradually he came
to an upright position.
"I'm not sure what use I'll be. My right arm was broken while I made
repairs to the plasma engines." Drefen paused, trying to control his
breathing. "That's why I left my helmet off."
"What do you mean?"
"I needed to make sure I was conscious when you came. There is
something you need to do."
Matthew didn't understand the logic of it; more air would have been
supplied to him if he had worn the helmet. But perhaps the Minbari had
meant that it would be easier to communicate if he had left it off. The
Captain didn't question it, knowing the confusion was probably a
manifestation of oxygen deprivation. Drefen struggled to keep himself
upright against the wall.
"You mean besides getting all of you off this ship? That is all I came
for, let's get that clear." Gideon was running out of time. For all he
knew the Drakh had broken through Galen's ruse and were already on
approach.
"No...yes...I mean that case there is more important than me. Take that
instead if you have to, please. Make sure that gets to the proper
destination. Medical vaccination for Kegaan 8." Drefen pointed to a
medical supply crate strapped down near the pilot. "Please make sure it
gets there."
The Minbari slumped over, the lack of oxygen and added movement finally
taking their toll. Gideon knew Minbari were a particularly resilient
race just as long as they didn't have to endure high heat. Grace under
pressure was their strong suit, but like all races, they had limits.
Drefen had exceeded his. Matthew reached for the helmet and carefully
fitted the opening around the Minbari's bone crest, trying not to scrape
the seals against the purplish laceration on his bruised brow. When
Gideon finally had it in place, he twisted the seal and clamped it, then
locked the UV visor into place. A small twist on the regulator mounted
to the chest of the suit released the oxygen supply and Matthew turned
it to full, hoping to resuscitate Drefen.
He took another look at the case as he opened his pack, pulling out the
harnesses and a few lengths of the strapping. It wasn't like a Minbari,
and definitely not the Rangers, to deal in black market drugs so the
case had to be legitimate. Matthew knew he had to work quickly; if he
could bring along the medicine he would, but his primary concern was the
crew. Starting with Drefen, he began to place them in the harnesses.
*~*~*~*
He was on autopilot, relying on instinct to decipher the insane rush of
information his brain tried to contain and was quickly failing to keep
it straight. The Drakh AI system was beginning to question his input
further and just by strength of sheer will, Galen prevented it from
discovering all of what was really happening. But soon it would take
more than will power to force the system into believing the illusion
that something wasn't out in space before it. The Technomage had felt a
back surge at one point as the AI tried to legitimize the source, and
quickly he rerouted it back into its own relays to confuse it. The
detour wouldn't last long and eventually the system would try again with
more power and focus.
Galen sat soaked in sweat. The additional expenditure of energy his
implants gave off raised his body temperature and somewhere amidst the
barrage on his brain, Galen found a brief moment to have his ship adjust
the cabin temperature to something that would cool his body without the
side effect of shivering. He couldn't afford to have his muscles wound
any tighter than they already were.
Fragmenting his concentration, the Technomage found Gideon's transponder
in the chaos. Dismayed in the fact it was still pulsing from inside the
Toledo, Galen forced himself to breathe and pushed back the pain and
searing heat, not knowing how much more he could stand. Deceiving one
Drakh ship would have been relatively simple, but a fleet of eleven was
a greater task than he had ever imagined. Galen feared there wouldn't
be enough left of himself to burn at a funeral if Gideon didn't hurry.
*~*~*~*
"How are they doing? Can you sense anything?" The contours of
Dureena's brow creased deeply, showing her concern. She was worried
about Galen and Gideon, and Matheson shared the sentiment. Her emotions
leaked from her less than with most people, but it was still apparent to
the telepath even if she hadn't said anything.
"No, I'm not that strong." The Lieutenant turned in the command chair
to face her as she stood beside him. "I would need a line of sight
anyway."
"I know, I had just hoped...well I suppose it doesn't matter. Either
they'll make it or they won't and there's not much we can do about
that." She forced a weary smile and crossed her arms over her chest,
picking at the seams of her rawhide jacket with a fingernail.
"You're right, but it still doesn't make the wait any less annoying.
And I'm ordered to maintain radio silence, so it's not like I can call
for a status update either." The young man sighed, looking back down at
the comp pad in his lap. He couldn't read any further than the second
sentence; unable to concentrate on the resource usage report he
downloaded from the Excalibur's system earlier. Using the stylus, he
closed the document and shut off the small device. Matheson stood and
placed it on the chair.
"All right, I'm past due for a break and I'm in the mood for coffee.
Care to join me?"
Dureena's eyes widened at the invitation and she accepted it with a nod,
needing something to occupy her as well. The thought of another
expedition through the between decks of the Excalibur didn't have its
usual appeal. She thought it would take her several years to crawl
through all the unlikely places within the ship's mile-and-a-quarter
limits, but she had been disappointed in the lack of creativity used to
design the ship. It had only taken her a few months. Everything was
boringly functional and utilized, although her adventures did keep her
in practice and in shape.
"Sounds better than just wandering around on my own waiting for word."
"Helm, contact me if there's any signal either from the Captain, Galen's
flyer, or if something happens in the Ghayn system. I want to hear
about it even if you think it's insignificant."
"Aye, sir."
They stood in companionable silence as they took the lift to the living
quarters level and walked the rest of the distance to the commissary.
Dureena opted for tea instead of coffee, her hand surrounding the
ceramic mug in a way that mirrored Matheson. The room was nearly empty
except for a few of Eilerson's IPX staff discussing the latest
archaeological find published in a recent journal.
"Can I ask you a personal question, Lieutenant?" Dureena watched the
swirl of steam rise from her mug before she took a small sip.
"How personal is personal?" He smiled and turned the com link
microphone away from his mouth before he tasted his own beverage. "If
it's going to be really personal, maybe you should call me John."
"Oh, I'm sorry, you have a first name?" She smirked widely and he shook
his head. "I thought Lieutenant Matheson was your only name. All
right, John, what's it like?"
"What's what like?" Suddenly he laughed, realizing how obtuse he was
being. "Sorry, I'm just not sure what you mean."
"Being a telepath. Being able to read people's thoughts and emotions--"
"Regulations prevent me from scanning anyone without consent." Matheson
interrupted a little too harshly. Dureena frowned.
"No need to get defensive, that's not what I meant. You have an ability
I don't, although I do think I'm a decent judge of character. I'm
curious, that's all." Matheson's face softened slightly.
"All right. I'll answer if I'm allowed to ask a question."
"Sounds fair enough."
"Why did you become a thief?" For a moment, John thought he had angered
her-Dureena's gaze returned to her mug and she stroked the curved side
of the ceramic with her fingernails.
"I had little choice. My parents sold me when I was young to pay off
their debts. The man that happened to purchase me was a member of the
Thieve's Guild and made sure I could make him a profit. Eventually I
outgrew my usefulness to him and he gave me my freedom." Matheson
sensed she was hiding something more, but didn't want to pry. She told
him what she was comfortable with him knowing and now he had to return
the favor.
"Some days having telepathy is a great asset, on other's it's a curse.
For the most part, I'm able to shut out the impressions I get from
normals, but it's like having a swarm of insects around your head-I
always pick up something.
"I guess you and I are a lot alike. I was thirteen when my telepathy
developed and I had to leave my family for the Psi Corps training center
in Geneva. It was...enlightening, but I resented the fact I had to be
away from my parents and the people I loved. Twenty years later and I'm
still not sure I like any of it. I definitely don't like being a poster
child for the Bureau of Telepath Integration, but I'm glad I finally got
the opportunity to do what I've always wanted."
Matheson rested his elbows on the table and crossed his legs at the
ankles. Pulling his hands away from the mug, he looked at his bare
palms. "I don't think I answered your question, did I?"
Dureena smiled. "That's okay. You answered enough of it."