Chapter Thirteen
"Waves Before the Storm"
What made the Vorlon called Kosh turn away from his quarters would be something he would ponder as long as he lived. Perhaps it was fate or perhaps it was something else. What he had chosen to do frighten him so much he didn't even want to think about it. Vorlons did not like death-their deaths. He had been poisoned once and the specter of death came far too close to ever be confronted again anytime in the near future.
His people were not ready. The heavy destroyers were not sufficient enough in numbers to stand off a full retaliatory strike by the Shadows. However, they didn't know that, so in vengeance they would come after him. He, as an Ambassador would be defenseless against the hunters of the dark. Order needed to be maintained. As he lumbered ever forward, he communicated to his fellow Vorlons his request. They all knew the price, but they agreed that this was the correct thing to do. Hopefully the worst-case scenario would not come to pass but it was true that the lesser races entrusted to their care needed a victory now, or all would be lost. And it would gain the one thing most needed.
Time.
-At a most terrible price.
He found himself ringing the chime of the Federation Ambassador. He felt that he must be in some sort of daze to even come be here. He had went out of his way to avoid this female alien which, on the surface, was not that unusual since he very rarely met with other Ambassadors on B5 as a matter of course. However Guinan and these others were of a different breed. These beings had not been genetically programmed by Vorlons, and they did not have an instinctual awe of his people as the others for seventy light-years around had. None of the other sentients on those alien ships matched computer records. Further, there was something about this woman that almost reminded him of his own people and that made him feel uncomfortable.
Guinan opened the door. "It's about time, Ambassador," she said as she smiled brightly.
She looked glad to see him and that aggravated him. Most people were intimidated by his presence when they saw him. He liked that because they should have been; but he could tell she wasn't. Habit forced him to say the words he had been planning to say for the last three months or so. The translator produced the delayed words. "You should not be here. You have never been here."
She invited him in and he followed awkwardly in his containment suit he really didn't need. With these people here, history wasn't flowing that way it should. The ancient records-what was left of them-ago had not even hinted of these people. Everything had changed now and time had once again become unpredictable and all Vorlons hated unpredictability. This was especially true during this critical time of unfolding history.
"I am here where I am. I can be nowhere else," she answered.
What did she mean by that?
"Explain," his translator ordered.
"We didn't want to be here, but we are. You will just have to adjust to the situation."
"Why did you come?" his translator asked. "You are not from here."
"And what does here mean?"
The Human Ambassador was being cryptic. He was not in the mood for this. Kosh's visor closed halfway, responding automatically to the emotions he felt. "Go," he said with finality. "Now."
The woman called Guinan turned around and sat on the couch and invited him to come over–and sit. He decided to decline, of course. The woman smiled and started talking.
Why he stayed he would never fully know. At first he suspected that she was telepathic, somehow influencing him, but he would have detected that kind of probing. There was something else about her that simply mesmerized him.
"Ambassador Kosh, "whispered Guinan, looking away as though she were in another world. "I have seen so many like you, long-lived, proud, slightly contemptuous of the younger races. You know," she continued. "You remind me so much of the Organians."
"Organians?" Who were they? The name was not familiar to him. But then, names really meant nothing in the scheme of things.
The Organians are a non-corporeal species," she said answering his unspoken question. "They abhor violence in any fashion especially when it pertained to the younger more primitive races. These entities once forced a resolution to a war where I come from. But they really didn't want to get their hands dirty in the process. They weren't concerned with the death and destruction as much as the irritation it caused them. War among the primitives gave them headaches, you see. Because they had forgotten their own past, the Organians did all the right things for all the wrong reasons."
"Irrelevant." This conversation was pointless. He turned to leave.
But her next comment froze him where he stood.
"They were afraid of what would happen. Kosh, are you afraid?"
His body seemed to snap back towards her of its own free will. "Explain."
She had him and he knew she had him.
"You remind me of my father," she stated, clearly enjoying her victory. "My people are a race of listeners, which can be a good or bad thing. We just love to listen, but in my father's case, he eventually became so enamored with listening that he could no longer talk to people. His answers became cryptic. He couldn't explain himself anymore. It took my mother almost a hundred years to get him back to the point that he was able to have a normal conversation. In many ways, you're so like him."
"You don't need the translator to speak, but you hide behind it so that you can be mysterious and dangerous. You hide behind this environmental suit to protect every bit of yourself from prying eyes-eyes that can tell when you're happy or sad, or even afraid. But to a listener like myself, one who watches and sees everything, I can tell. Even when it's covered up, the body never lies. So again I ask, can we help you?"
Can you help me? You little primitives, he thought, his mind dripping with distain. You are less than dust in the wind. You can no longer help me that stop the wind from blowing. How can one help a being that has walked across this universe like a god? Oh, how arrogant is this species called Humanity!
"The circle will not complete itself," Kosh said thru his translator. "You must go." Arrogant or not, this woman was disturbing.
"Kosh, there are lots of circles in the universe," Guinan pointed out. "So many, in fact that they hardly ever complete themselves the way we want them to." The circle you speak of is gone. Another one has taken its place. It may be better or it may be worse. Only time will tell. Whether we go or stay nothing will ever be the same again."
"There's a war going on with the Shadow beings and it seems that the only group not interested in the fighting are the Vorlons. But that's not true is it? You're not above these petty conflicts, are you? I don't think so," she murmured once more. "You're probably in so deep that you don't know what to do."
Kosh began scrutinized this woman closely. Her awareness seemed unusually canny. And there was the fact that her technology had made radical shifts from the conventional norms. This in itself might be enough to shift the war in the Vorlon's favor.
The Vorlon planet-killers and support ships were not completely grown yet and they still were at a disadvantage if the Shadows decided begin an all-out attack. If they discovered his people's weakness, the 'rules of war' might well go out the window. Maybe these people could be useful, but first they needed to be molded properly.
"Who are you?" It was the question of the ages he thought. Everything started with self-understanding.
"That's simple enough question to answer," the woman announced as though this was the most important question in existence. It was, he knew, but she didn't know it yet.
"I am Guinan," the woman continued. "I am El-Aurian, a race of listeners, who have walked the galaxy for nearly a thousand years before we were cut down by that which we call the Collective. I wasn't there personally, but I heard the reports." Her eyes became misty as she remembered the reports of the slaughter. "When they came, they swept thru our system. And when they finished, there was little or nothing left of my people. I found my way to the Federation and have made it my home."
"Who am I?" she continued. "Well, I've been working on that question for at least four hundred years and I've just about got it figured out. But that is for me to know. To know ones self is always a journey of self-discovery, privileged to be shared with only a precious few. Now, who are you and why are you covered in an environmental suit that you really don't need?"
Kosh stood astonished. She had given him just enough information to let him know that she was more than Human, far more. He was at a loss for words. When he saw Guinan, it was as though he was looking at a First One, one of the ancients. The only question he could ask himself was just who were these people and more importantly who was Guinan? Could these people possibly help?
Sheridan really did not have time for this. There were too many things on the plate right at this moment. The Shadows were attacking openly now and so far no one had been able to defend themselves against their superior firepower. Kosh had promised to do something but exactly what that was he wasn't saying. He hoped that the Vorlons would send a fleet and kick Shadow butt but again, with the Vorlons one could never be sure. However Kosh did promise a victory and Kosh, in his own way, kept his promises. Yes, the pressure was on but he decided to make the time to see what Captains Picard and Garrett had to show him. So far they had been the very models of decorum and now that B5 was almost completely independent he actually did have a little more free time to be taken up by something else.
He pressed the announcement chimes and Picard responded immediately. "Come."
He entered the quarters and saw them, both looking very sober, standing next to the large screen at the end of the room waiting for him to join them.
"Thank you for coming at such short notice, Captain Sheridan," Picard said to him. "Earlier today Guinan was visited by a rather strange individual, a Mr. Morden, who seemed most eager to help us get back to our own part of the galaxy. For a small price he even suggested that he and his associates could ease the tensions between EarthGov and us."
John blanched at the mentioning of that man. "Mr. Morden is a man who deals in assorted business that, I assure you, are not in your best interest right now," he answered carefully. "It would be wise of you to avoid him and not mix yourself in any of his business dealings. Other than that there's not much more that I can tell you."
Rachel and Jean-Luc caught the subtle phrasing of John's statement. "We assumed as much," she said. "He carries an aire about him, that neither of us felt comfortable with. In fact, I felt a touch paranoid when he was around. It was as though he wasn't the only one checking us out." There was a sly look that she gave him that perked up his suspicions.
"A healthy dose of paranoia around here is a good thing," John answered a little too casually. These people knew something he realized. And they also know that I know.
They were dancing around each other, not yet willing to take the first overtures.
"At Guinan's suggestion," Rachel continued, "we had ourselves scanned when Mr. Morden was in the process of attempting to strike a deal with us. He seemed most eager to help us and I must admit that it was rather tempting. However…"
"We decided against it, at Guinan's warning."
Thank God he thought.
"Yes," Captain Picard answered simply. These are the results of the scans." Turning to the screen he re-activated it.
The images were quite clear and Sheridan was rather disturbed that the Enterprise's sensors could capture everything in such high resolution. Babylon Five had no screens that could block out such detailed scans although they were in the process of getting them, curtsey of the starship Ambassador. The actual unprocessed images would have shown fuzzy heat images of the two Captains on the screen, but with computer augmentation it was almost like looking at a slightly out-of-focus video. Sheridan held his breath. He knew what he was about to see.
Picard and Garrett were sitting at the booth and talking and then Morden was there. Sheridan straightened slightly as he saw them, three of the Shadow aliens, one almost caressing Picard. From the corner of his eye he saw Picard shiver slightly as he continued looking at the images.
"I shall assume that these are Shadows," said Picard thru gritted teeth. "Did you know that these creatures had infiltrated your station?"
Sheridan took a breath. The truth pointed to itself. "Yes," he admitted. "I-we've known about Mr. Morden and his associates for some time now." He sighed and momentarily the two Federation officers could see the weight of the world upon his shoulders. "Look, there's a lot you don't understand. Babylon Five is the eye of the storm. We are a refuge, a safe haven-if you can believe that-and our last, best hope to stave off total anarchy. You've seen the situation here. We have wars sprouting out over. There's division everywhere and behind all of this are those Shadows everywhere pulling the strings from their planet to Earth and far beyond. They've offered the one thing that few seem to be able to resist. Power."
"The Shadows," he continued, "are destroying ships, both, military and civilians, whole colonies, maybe even entire planets. This is why we here at B5 are trying to get a coalition of races together to fight against them. This way we might have a chance. But, we couldn't do it in the open without becoming a direct threat to them. But that's a mote point. It's clear that they have a strong interest in you and your ships. The presence of Morden here means that he's scouting us out, in detail. They've noticed us now."
It was as Rachel suspected. The modifications of several of the Star Furies and the polarized plating had already caught the attention of several races. It was totally logical that their enemies would want to know about them also. That's why Morden was making friendly with them. It seems that Shadows wanted to get information before they struck an unknown force.
"They act like Romulans," she sneered.
Picard looked at her. "Agreed."
Sheridan did not follow.
"The Romulans don't attack directly until they've covered all the possibilities," Picard said. "That way they would maximize their chances for success. Your Shadows seem to follow that same strategy." He frowned at Sheridan. "But why didn't you simply ask us?"
"Because this isn't your fight," Sheridan answered harsher than he'd intended. "At least it wasn't."
"Our long-ranged scans have tracked the Shadow warships until they cloaked. They seem to be organic in nature. We would like to know more about them. Why are they fighting?"
Where to begin with that question?
"The creatures we know as the Shadows are an ancient, old species who were defeated in a war a thousand years ago. The problem was that it took the Minbari, and several of the so-called First Ones-races who were as old as they-to drive them back. The war was won but now they're back and all of the First Ones with the exception of one have left. Now it's us verses them and frankly I won't be holding my breath on the outcome. There's so much more to tell, but now isn't the time. I can have all available data sent to your ships."
"Understood," said both Federation Captains simultaneously.
Captain John Sheridan smiled, bowed slightly and hurriedly left to get to the situation room.
As the door closed, Picard let out a breath. "Out of the frying into the fire."
"That about sums it up," she responded. "They're coming after us. You know this.
"Yes," Picard said. "We represent an unknown quantity that the Shadows cannot afford to ignore. The very fact that we are here has precipitated all too many conflicts. But here we are," he said more to himself than to Rachel. "The Earth Government, possibly the Centauri and now the Shadows-"
"It kind of makes you wish for the simplicity of the Klingons, doesn't it? It was a good thing that the Klingon's warp core will be ready to install in two days."
Rachel watched as Picard smiled grimly. "We need to have a talk with Guinan."
Picard's communicator beeped, halting his response.
"Picard here."
"Captain." It was Commander Riker. "We have a situation on the Enterprise. Someone tried to kill Lieutenant Troi, Data, B'Elanna, and Commander Ivanova."
"Status," he snapped.
"They're okay and we have the perpetrators in a holding cell.
"Enterprise, counterman Standing Order Four. Two to beam up."
"Acknowledged. Stand by."
The order to refrain from beaming to and from B5 was canceled and the two officers dissolved in a sparkle of light.
Picard and Garrett materialized onboard the Enterprise-D a few seconds later and were escorted to the Brig by Commander Data who filled them in, in detail about the attempted murders. By the time the group reached the brig, Picard was as angry as he'd ever been. Garrett stood back. This was his ship.
Inside then room, Commander Ivanova stood smirking at Bester. "This is were I have always envisioned you to be-inside a small cell. Personally I think this one is too good for you. But I'll take what I can get."
Bester plainly seethed at her until he noticed the Captain and his party. "My," he said as arrogantly as possible. "You must be Picard. I can tell by that serious face you have on right now. Did you know that EarthGov has your face plaster on a dartboard? It's very popular."
"It's Captain Picard," he said, ignoring the cracks.
"Yes, sir, Captain, sir," he mocked.
Amazing Picard thought. If it wasn't for the slightly sloped forehead, and the arrogance in the eyes, he could be the spitting image of Admiral Chekov. "Evidently, Mr. Bester, you do not understand the seriousness of your situation. You and your companion are being charged with the attempted murders of members of my crew."
A seemingly unconcerned Bester took a few moments before responding. "You have no jurisdiction here, Picard. You have no rights, no command, nothing. You're the ultimate aliens," he answered. "You're invaders, Picard. Yes, I know your little secret. You don't want to become my enemy."
"Get in line!" Picard sighed. It was only a matter time before this secret was no longer a secret. "There's a point of contention here as you have tried to kill my crewmember on Babylon Five. I am sure that Commander Ivanova may wish to prosecute you there. But we are representatives of the Federation of Planets. The floor you are standing on is Federation territory. You, Mr. Bester, are on my ship now."
"…You, Mr. Bester, are on my ship now," Picard had said.
Mr. Bester's neck twitched slightly. What Picard had just said had the sound of permanence coming from a man who in all likelihood was as determined and unflinching than Sheridan. Next to him, his fellow Psi-cop Jackie Thomson, she of the ice-cold demeanor, had noticed the same thing.
"Whether I'm on your ship or not makes no difference," the Psi-Cop countered, continuing his bluff. He had to get off this ship if they were to have a chance. "You have rules and regulations that will not allow you to execute us without a fair trial, which I very much doubt we can get here. So, in the spirit of cooperation and the pursuit of truth, I recommend that you transfer us to Babylon Five. Think of it Picard. It would show all the governments, both Human and alien, that you respect the laws and procedures inherent here and you can keep your hands clean."
From the corner of his eye, he watched Commander Riker carefully; secretly glad that that he wasn't the Captain because he was sure that that man would have thrown him out the first convenient airlock he could find. Again he cursed his luck at being stuck here surrounded by telepaths equal to or stronger than he. All he could do was get a general feel for the two Captains. If scans were directed at the two leaders the others would notice immediately and come down on him like a ton of bricks. He was anxious but not overly so. He had been in worse situations than this before. He was confident he could get out of this after all they were mind-blind.
"Look," he started once more. "I can see how my little outburst might be interpreted in a wrong light. And my associate's actions are unforgivable. Trying to defend me against members of your crew even if one of them was chocking me to death, what was she thinking?"
Picard's face hadn't cracked a micrometer he saw to his dismay. He had tried several tactics and none of them seemed to be working right now. The situation he and Jackie found themselves in was precarious at best. Now, Bester's eyes tracked Picard as the Federation Captain spoke.
"I have no intentions of executing either of you," Picard said evenly. "In our society the death penalty has been outlawed." Picard looked at him once more and Bester felt his blood chill. "Although, as military Commander of this expedition, I can have you shot right here, right now. You both are to be placed under arrest until we sort out the legalities of this predicament."
Bester couldn't resist smiling.
Then the other shoe dropped.
"On this ship," Picard said coldly, "you will address me as Captain Picard." Turning: "Commander Riker. I want the prisoner's clothing removed and replaced with clothing appropriate to their new station. If they prove to be uncooperative, use whatever means necessary. They are to be quarantined until otherwise noted. Food replicators are to be set on minimum and there is to be no access to any computer while they are confined. In addition, I want the force fields to their cells set to opaque mode. Make it so."
"Yes, sir," came the enthusiastic reply.
"Commander Data, I want all Lieutenants Troi's conversation and transcribed information sent to Babylon Five along with a record our talks with the prisoners in the brig. We will keep this nice and legal."
A pale Bester watched as the Captain stepped closer. "I realize that a conversation between two telepaths may not be admissible in court. But I suspect Captain Sheridan will find this interesting." For a second he seemed lost in thought. "I believe I will send a copy to President Clarke also, with my compliments of course."
Both Psi-Cops could not believe what was happening. Decades of planning was about to be blown away like so much dust and these extra-galactic aliens would be the ones for the possible downfall of the Psi-Corps before it even had a chance to shine. It was too much.
"You can't keep us here, Captain!" He shook violently as the realization that he used the word 'Captain', hit home. "You can't keep us here! You don't have the right," he continued to scream at the Captain even as Picard left the room.
"Deanna!" Bester's desperate projection caught the Betzoid's attention. "You're different! You're our sister. You have a moral obligation to help us. My Corps, your Corps, now is family. Those people will turn on you. The Corp is mother-the Corps is father. Come home!"
Deanna froze, and then turned slowly. Well, it wouldn't work. Together, Dr. Selar and she would make sure that the forced-bond would remain nothing more than an infatuation. "Enjoy your stay," she answered. I am home.
You're lying to yourself.
Don't let the bond-lust take you over, Mr. Bester she transmitted back at him. It will be bad for your health.
Remember, I know things about you that you wouldn't want the others to ever know. Help us.
Never. She cursed the man who force-bonded with her. I'm at home with my thoughts and actions. It's an imperfect world, Mr. Bester. And keep in mind; the exchange of knowledge goes both ways.
Picard and the others watched the silent conversation carefully. Bonding was an unpredictable process and a forced one even worse. Sometimes those who underwent such a 'psychic rape' usually took a while to recover.
"Are you okay, Doctor?"
"Yes. It's simply the after affects of associating with filth. I'm going to sick bay."
Without a backwards glance they left two fuming telepaths to their own thoughts.
A half an hour later, inside his cell, Bester's mind raced, locked and joined with Thompson's due to her closeness and familiarity. They've hurt the Corps. They think they are invincible. They are nothing! They won't hold us for long. Relax yourself and observe. They made a mistake is keeping us here, laughing us while we're locked up, isolated. We'll make them pay…"