What the hell was I thinking?
Tabitha Basco tossed her chart onto the nearest clear space on the nursing station's desk, dropped into a nearby chair and arched her back in a vertebrae-popping stretch.
Damn, I sound like a sack of potatoes hitting the floor. Why in the world did I think covering afternoon ER admissions today was a good idea? Maybe if all hell didn't break loose on call last night it wouldn't be so bad, but for crying out loud!
"They working you hard, Tab?"
The pediatrician hung her head back over the edge of the chair to give Nurse Bethany an upside-down grimace. "Are we running a special on vomiting and diarrhea today or something?" Tabitha eyed the chart Bethany cradled in one arm, straightened up in her chair and spun it around to face her. "Please don't tell me that's another one. I've just admitted my fourth case of rotavirus and haven't even had time to stop for lunch. If I have to see one more kid with the squirts, I may scream."
"No, honey," the nurse reassured her with a chuckle. She made one last notation on the triage form, then dropped the chart into the physician pick-up box. "This is a 22 year old who's 'weak and dizzy all over'. You're safe for the moment."
"Thank God!" Tabitha picked up her own chart, scribbled one last note on the orders sheet and handed it off to the admissions clerk. "There we go. God willing, I can use the last bit of my shift to catch up on dictations."
"What's the matter?" Bethany asked with a grin. "You got a date tonight, honey? Finally decided to take Sheila's advice and give Dr. Lang a try?"
"No, I've not got a date," Tabitha responded with mild irritation that was only half feigned. The pediatrician's love life (or lack thereof) was a favorite subject for gossip among the nursing staff.
"Actually, it's sort of moonlighting," Tabitha continued. She glanced around the ER to see who was in earshot, then said, "I called Peter Venkman last night. He finally wants to talk."
"I was wondering when that boy would develop some sense," Bethany said with a mixture of relief and irritation. Like Sara and Tabitha, she'd also been worried about the Ghostbuster. "I'll warn you, honey. Don't let him blow smoke at you. Getting a straight answer out of that boy's like pullin' teeth."
"I kinda noticed that," Tabitha said with a tired grin. She slouched in her chair for a moment, eyelids lowering halfway. Definitely time for another night on the town. I've picked up way too much emotional junk from my patients. "Okay, the energy to get out of this chair's gotta be in here somewhere."
Bethany rolled her eyes and got up to grab the younger woman's shoulder. "On your feet, Doc," she snapped out in her best drill instructor tone. "Get some lunch into that collection of bones and whipcord you're hauling around. And, while you're at it, you can buy me some coffee in gratitude for my gentle care."
Tabitha snickered and dragged herself to her feet. Bethany had apparently come to the conclusion that the young doctor needed a keeper and volunteered herself for the task when their paths crossed. "Yes, ma'am!" she snapped out. "This way to the Café Clostridia."
But before they could even leave the nursing station, Tabitha's pager went off.
"It figures," she groaned as she pulled it from its holder. She looked at the numbers on the screen and her eyebrows raised. "Hmmm...I don't think I know this one."
"Another physician recruiter?" Bethany asked.
"If it is, I'm gonna bite his head off," Tabitha replied as she headed for the nearest phone. "It's bad enough they clog up my voice mail at home, but this really pisses me off."
Tabitha punched in the number and waited. The other end was picked up on the first ring.
"Hello?" said a vaguely familiar voice. "Is that you, Dr. Basco?"
"This is Dr. Basco," Tabitha confirmed, disturbed by the strain in the voice. "Did you page me?"
"You'd better believe I paged you!" the caller continued. "I'm glad you're quick on the draw. This is Janine. Remember me? I work for the Ghostbusters. We need you and Sara over here pronto. Peter's got himself hurt again."
"Whoa, hold on a minute, Janine!" Tabitha ordered. "Peter did what?"
***
"Okay, we'll be waiting."
Ray looked up as Janine hung up the phone and pulled off her glasses to rub her eyes. "Can they come?" he asked.
"Dr. Basco's coming. Seems like Sara's out of town, but she's gonna call her," Janine answered as she got out of the front seat and walked around to Ecto-1's back door where Ray was sitting. Their confrontation with Tirad hadn't been far from headquarters, so they had returned long before she'd managed to get a hold of Basco through her paging service. But the trip back hadn't exactly been a picnic. Ray shuddered as the memory replayed itself in his mind.
If we only knew for sure what happened. Was it overload, backlash or maybe a parting blow from Tirad? Ray wondered.
All their euphoria over victory had evaporated as Peter collapsed on the concrete. Ray, being the closest, had been the first to reach his side. Outwardly, Peter seemed uninjured except for a nosebleed that practically stopped itself. He began to regain consciousness almost immediately, but when he did, he let out a physical and telepathic scream of agony that had sent all of them to their knees.
I should have seen it coming, Ray thought guiltily as he looked at Peter who was still sprawled in Ecto's cargo compartment with an activated shield unit at his side. He attacked Tirad psionicly. I should have known he couldn't keep his shields up at the same time. I should have brought a unit over to him first thing.
They'd been saved by the fact that a human being can only take so much pain before passing out. Peter's scream had cut off as he lost consciousness and left them all with lingering headaches, but no other damage. It had been obvious they couldn't take him to the hospital in this condition. True, they had their external shields, but anyone trying to assess or treat Peter would have to go inside them, both exposing Peter to mental overload and exposing themselves to his projection.
Not that conventional medicine would be able to help him at this point anyway, Ray mused as he watched his friend who was silent and still save for an occasional muscle spasm and barely audible moan. And the cat would be well and truly out of the bag about his telepathy if someone got caught in one of his blasts in a hospital. I'm glad we could get a hold of Tabitha at least. I just hope she's up to this.
"What'd Tabitha say about the sedative?" Ray asked as Janine leaned through the door to check on Peter herself.
"She said we'd probably better give it to him. It'd be easier for her to work on him if he isn't blasting her every time she gets inside the shield," the secretary replied in a tone that showed how little she liked the idea. For that matter, Ray didn't care for it much himself, but at the moment, consciousness was not Peter's friend.
I'm just glad Tabitha didn't ask what kind of sedative we're gonna give him, Ray thought with relief. Some time ago, Peter had obtained some injectable Ativan and hypodermic syringes to use in case of a possession. He'd told them not to ask how he got them, and Ray was happy not knowing.
He looked up as Egon hurried down the stairs. Winston followed close behind carrying a cot. "What kept you guys?" Ray asked.
"Egon stopped to pull up the drug info on the net," Winston explained, gesturing to the physicist who was tapping the side of the syringe to clear the tiny air bubbles.
"It is only prudent to double check the dosage," Egon remarked tightly. "About half a milligram should be adequate."
Ray took the hypodermic from Egon long enough for him to climb into the back of the hearse. When Egon volunteered to administer the dose, there had only been token protest. Everyone knew the physicist was likely the best at keeping his thoughts orderly and under control. Therefore, he had the least chance of setting the injured telepath off again. But there was still a great deal of risk for him to be inside the shield with Peter in this state. With quick, smooth movements, he unzipped Peter's jumpsuit, pulled it down far enough to bare one shoulder and held his hand out. The younger man barely flinched at the jab of the needle. Within seconds, the dose was given, and Egon quietly crawled back out of Ecto.
"Let's give that about five minutes to take effect," Ray said quietly. "Then I think we can move him safely. Make him comfortable 'til Tabitha gets here."
"Sure thing, Ray," Winston agreed as he and Janine set up the cot. "But we'd better be careful how we touch him or he'll probably get overloaded anyway."
"We'll do it with gloves," Egon added. "But I suggest we simply set up the cot down here. Minimal disturbance at this point would be wise."
Ray sat back down on Ecto's bumper and mentally willed Tabitha to hurry.
***
Tabitha cursed the traffic signal in front of her. This had been the fifth red light in a row she'd hit, and every little delay was grating on her nerves.
I guess I'm lucky Bethany understands my other job, she thought ruefully. The nurse, after listening to her half of her conversation with Janine, had made things easy for her.
"Don't talk. Go!" she'd ordered the pediatrician, yanking Tabitha's leather jacket off the chair where she'd left it and throwing it at her. "I'll call Williams and tell him an emergency's come up. He owes you for that time his kid broke her leg anyway."
She'd hugged Bethany with relief that one worry was taken off her shoulders. A good thing too. Stuck in traffic two blocks from Ghostbuster headquarters, the apprentice healer had plenty of others to occupy her time.
Damn, I know what to do. If it's backlash, Peter probably won't be that much worse than the other time. But I sure wish Sara was here. I could use some backup if things get dicey. He's got a gift at full power now, and that always adds problems.
Finally, the light turned green and Tabitha hit her accelerator. Her thoughts sped along as if they were trying pacing her car, now mulling over what Sara had told her over her cell phone when she'd finally gotten through to her teacher.
Telepathy. Full telepathy, even. Janine had opened up about the nature of Peter's psychic abilities after she learned that he was probably planning to tell her about it at her visit later tonight. Good Lord, why did his gift have to manifest that way? Even if I patch him up now, it probably won't do him much good in the long run. She shook her head impatiently. One thing at a time, Tab.
A few nail-biting minutes later, she found herself pulling up to Ghostbuster headquarters. There was just enough room on the driveway outside the closed doors for her tiny Kia to fit. Not wanting to waste time, she parked it there and ran up to pound on the door. She braced herself against the maelstrom of anxiety she could already pick up as Egon opened the door.
"Thank you for coming so quickly," he said as he all but dragged her inside.
"Hey, it's my job." she said with a slightly self conscious shrug. "Where is he?"
"Toward the back," he answered. "We didn't want to risk moving him around too much."
And I can't feel him at all, was her surprised thought. They weren't kidding about that shield.
It was quite eerie, when they finally reached the desks. Although her gift had developed relatively late, Tabitha had gotten used to "seeing" the presence of other people in her mind. Egon, Winston, Ray and Janine, she could feel them like miniature suns scattered around her, but the unconscious man on the cot might as well have been a corpse as far as her empathy was concerned. As it was, she had an intense urge to check a pulse even though she could see him breathing.
With that, maybe he'll have a chance once I get him patched up. If I can get him patched up.
Taking a steading breath, she forced a smile. "I take it you gave him the sedative?" she asked.
"Right after we got off the phone with you," Ray confirmed. "You really think you can help him?" His enormous brown eyes begged her to say "yes". Hell, she wanted to say "yes" but she wasn't one hundred percent sure she could.
"I'm gonna give him my best," she said instead, turning to rummage in her bag. "I'll know more when I take a good look at him. That shield's nice, but it's blocking him from me. Don't turn it off yet, though. Let's see if I can work inside it first."
"You should be able to," Egon reassured her.
"That's good," she said, pulling a bundle of sweetgrass and a lighter from her bag. "What's your price for one of those gadgets? I'd love to have it in my apartment. Crowded living's hard on an empath sometimes."
"Can't you shield it out?" Janine asked, her tone unexpectedly sharp.
"Most of the time," Tabitha said slowly. "Let's talk about that later. Right now, I've got work to do." She held the herb bundle and lighter out to Winston. "You mind doing the honors?"
"Not at all, ma'am."
Tabitha was acutely aware of the eyes on her as she started her pattern of measured breathing to prepare for the healing. Three slow breaths and the scent of sweetgrass sent her mind into the highly focused state where she could work within. She stepped forward and knelt at the head of Peter's cot and was thrown off balance as the shield closed around her. Although she'd dismissed the others' emotional input from her conscious mind to work, their complete cessation was a shock. It took several seconds to regain her mental balance before she could begin. Carefully, she lowered her shields and 'looked' at the damage. What she saw reassured her slightly.
"Good news," she said, not looking up. "He looks pretty much like he did when Sara worked on him. The channels took a good scorching from the backlash, but nothing else is damaged. A little more intense than I remember it, but he's fresh from the scene where Sara got him a full day after the fact. I can handle this."
"But are you going to fall on your nose afterward?" Winston asked, no doubt remembering how exhausted Sara had been after the previous healing. Tabitha gave him a sheepish grin.
"I guess we're gonna find out now, aren't we? Here we go."
Tabitha didn't think much of her own singing voice, but the Lakota healing song provided the focus for her mind to work. Quietly, almost under her breath, she sang as she reached out to gently touch Peter's temples. Letting the last of her shields go, she gently explored the damage, drawing the fire she saw into herself and smothering it. She moved much more slowly than Sara had. This was her first time working solo and she couldn't afford to make a mistake in this delicate work. It was a challenge not to pull away as each shred of pain sent a thread of agony through her own soul when she touched it. Her own being howled in protest at the intrusion of this jarring discord into its balanced harmony, but she disregarded its cry, only paying enough attention to know if something was truly about to overwhelm her system. As the fires were extinguished, she felt Peter's mind stirring slightly. She allowed herself a small smile of satisfaction.
NO!
Peter went stiff under her hands and his mind lashed out. Her shields down, Tabitha had no defense as he seized her in a merciless grip. Paralyzed, she hung in limbo, unable to even curse herself for her carelessness. Peter had just been in a telepathic battle. She had forgotten he might interpret her actions as an attack.
Who are you? he demanded. She didn't answer, but she didn't have to. Her mind lay completely open to him, and, oh God, she could feel how strong he was! He could rip her mind to shreds if he wanted to. She knew he at this moment he was seeing completely into and through her, and she had never in her life felt so naked. Or so terrified.
Tabitha? With recognition, the hold vanished and fury was replaced with shame. Peter's body relaxed under her hands, and she found she could move again. Oh, God I'm sorry. I thought you were him.
It's...it's all right, she thought back at him, trying to push aside her fear and regain her equilibrium.
No, it's not all right, he sent back stubbornly. For a moment, she felt him struggling as if arguing with himself, then his mind turned back to her with grim determination. Here.
Before she could protest, he had taken hold of her once more, this time opening his mind to her as hers had been opened to his.
You didn't have to do that, she thought, staggered by the gesture.
Tit for tat, Tabby cat, he retorted.
"Tabitha! Dr. Basco!"
The anxious voice jerked Tabitha out of rapport. She looked up to see the other Ghostbusters watching with anxiety writ large in their eyes. "What's wrong?" Egon asked.
"It's okay," she said, shaking her head a bit to clear it. "Forgot there was a risk working with psi-sensitives."
"How is he?" the physicist persisted.
"I'll be fine, Spengs," Peter murmured. "Tabby just stumbled on some adventures of my misspent youth is all."
"Peter!" Ray cried and started to lunge forward, catching himself at the last minute before hitting the shield. "You're okay."
"Correction, I will be okay once Tabasco here finishes up. Almost finished, Doc?"
"A couple more minutes, Peter," she said with a nervous laugh. "And try to keep your misspent youth to yourself."
"Spoilsport," he muttered as she sank back into rapport with him.
You know, this is not how I pictured our little meeting tonight.
Peter's thoughts were starting to blur as he relaxed enough for the drug to reassert its hold on him, but Tabitha could still pick them up faintly.
I know. Best laid plans and all.
Hey! You weren't supposed to hear that.
Then stop projecting. You're a telepath. I'm an empath, and we're currently in rapport. What do you expect?
Good point.
With that, his thoughts blurred into unconsciousness once more, and Tabitha moved quickly to finish her work. It was harder this time to focus on the damage, to reach out and touch it once more. She remembered how draining it had been for Sara to do so and that was without having to deal with a telepathic attack. Tabitha was younger and had more reserves, but those same reserves were being strained by her other profession, the long hours, the irregular meals, the strain of being immersed in pain almost every day. Once again, Sara's warning about the folly of serving two masters flickered through her mind and was ruthlessly shoved aside. That wasn't important now. Her patient was the priority, and she bent her will back towards his injuries. Energy flowed out of her at an ever increasing pace as she neared the end of her work, but it was enough. Just barely enough.
Finally, she let her hands fall away from Peter's head to clutch at the edges of the cot as the room swam around her. "That's it," she said, her voice barely above a whisper. "Between the stress and the sedative, he'll sleep for the rest of the day and probably well into the night. It's best just to let him. And keep him under the shield 'til he wakes up and puts his own back together."
"Are you gonna be okay?" Ray asked as everyone breathed a sigh of relief.
"I'm trying to figure that one out, myself," the physician answered, struggling to pull her own shields back into place. "I think I'm gonna need some help up. And some Gatorade if you have it. I picked a hell of a day to miss lunch."
"Oh, good grief!" Janine said in disgust. "Is it a law that once they put 'doctor' in front of your name, you have to lose every shred of common sense?" She stomped up the stairs, calling over her shoulder, "You get her up here safely, Ray. I'll get some soup on."
Tabitha leaned gratefully on Ray's shoulder as he supported her to her feet and steered her toward the stairs. With the close contact, she felt his hope and gratitude through her shields and felt singularly unworthy of it. She may have solved Peter's short term problem, but she would soon have to break the news about the long term. Peter wasn't the first human telepath. Sara had told her about others. The problem was that nearly every one of them had gone insane.
***
Uhhh, God? This is Winston. I know all things work together for good and all, but could you please make them work a little faster?
It was the morning after their confrontation with Tirad. True to Tabitha's prediction, Peter had slept until well after midnight when he woke up briefly and allowed the guys to force some supper on him before dragging himself upstairs to his own bed for the rest of the night. Tabitha, who hadn't been in much better shape, stayed overnight as well. After breakfast, she and Peter had retreated to the lab to discuss shielding technique. Or so he'd thought. Not five minutes later, Peter had yelled for everyone to join them and the other shoe dropped.
"Are you saying that there is nothing Peter can do to improve his shielding?" Egon asked. His voice was cold and analytical and did nothing to hide his distress from his friends. "Surely there must be something you can do. Tirad said that he could be taught how to build more effective shields."
Tabitha leaned forward in her seat and crossed her forearms on her knees. "I don't know. Maybe he knows a way. Maybe he was blowing smoke. All I know is that Peter's doing exactly what I and every empath I know do to shield, and I quite frankly don't know how to do it any differently. That's why the standard operating procedure for psi-healers has been to shut down the gift of any new telepath we find. Sometimes we have to do it with the empaths as well if they can't handle the load and don't want to go into isolation. We have simply not found a way to build a good enough shield and the pressure of other thoughts and emotions drive them off the deep end."
"And, because of how I got this little present, I guess that's not an option with me," Peter finished grimly.
"Wait a minute," Winston said, thinking about what she'd just described. "You're an empath, and you haven't been shut down. How do you cope?"
"With great difficulty," Tabitha said sourly. "And with techniques that Sara doesn't exactly approve of. You don't find a lot of empaths in medicine for obvious reasons, but my ability developed late. So late that I was already most of the way through medical school when it became obvious." She looked up with a self-deprecating smile. "I was too stubborn to change tracks to a...well, a career with less emotional 'noise', so I had to find a way to deal with the nastiness I pick up in the hospital and clinic. The shield leaks both good and bad emotions into me. When I get too much of the bad, I go clubbing."
That answer took everyone by surprise. Winston exchanged incredulous looks with Peter while Janine protested verbally. "Clubbing? You've gotta be kidding."
"Hey! It works," Tabitha said with a shrug. "At least in the short term. The same leaks that spill depression into me let me take in the mania from everyone around me having a good time and the two balance out. As a result, I've gotten a reputation as quite a party animal."
"Sounds like the psychic version of using uppers and downers," Peter said with a frown. "Doesn't sound to healthy in the long run."
"No, it probably isn't," Tabitha agreed. "And Sara gives me hell about it. I guess I want to have my cake and eat it too. I don't want to give up medicine, but I don't want to give up my gift either." She sighed and looked up at Janine. "So I guess I can't argue with what you said last night about doctors and their lack of common sense."
"But maybe you don't have to!" Ray broke in, his voice rising with hope. "Maybe you can't shield yourself well enough by yourself, but we've got our artificial shield. If we can refine it. Miniaturize the components..."
"Can you miniaturize the power source?" Peter interrupted. "Not that I'm particularly looking forward to getting a job as a lighthouse keeper, but those things suck a whole lot of juice."
"That is an important issue, Peter," Egon agreed. "However, our shield unit is only a prototype and a rushed one at that."
"I'll admit that shield gizmo of yours may be the key," Tabitha said cautiously. "Maybe if I could be certain of a 'quiet' place to rest and regroup, I wouldn't have to rely on getting myself high like that. I meant what I said about wanting one. You can name your price."
An impish look sprang into Peter's eyes. "Oh, really?" he said with a smirk.
All further conversation was abruptly cut off by the high-pitched wail of the alarm. And it wasn't just the burglar alarm either. It was the one Egon and Ray designed to alert them to intrusion by ghosts, spirits and other otherworldly entities. Ray, Winston and Peter all lunged for the lab's proton pack, but Winston claimed it first. Egon had his PKE meter out and was feverishly taking readings.
"It's downstairs," he said, over the wail of the siren. "Likely in the garage."
Between us and the other packs, damn it, Winston cursed.
"What've we got?" Ray shouted. "A big one?"
"Class Eight, corporeal," the physicist reported. "No sign of a gate. It must have simply walked in." His eyes widened suddenly in shock behind his glasses. "It's the Gaurnim!"
Everyone froze at the news. Winston turned to look at Peter whose face had gone hard as stone. The psychologist stood still for a moment, then turned and snapped, "For crying out loud, someone turn of that noise! It's not like it's gonna scare her away."
Ray scrambled to the control panel and silence quickly descended on the room, accentuating the tension. "Are you sure it's her?" Winston asked, moving to cover the door with the thrower.
"The frequency is identical," Egon confirmed. His eyebrows drew together in a frown. "That's strange. I'm picking up the same frequency, but it's much weaker in intensity from the readings Janine took when Peter was returned."
"Thank God for small favors," Winston said fervently. "Is she headed up here?"
"No. The signal is stationary."
"She's waiting for us," Peter said with absolute certainty in his voice. He turned to Winston, his eyes like chips of green ice. "The pack, Zed. Give it to me."
"Wait a minute, Pete," Winston protested, but Peter overrode him.
"Damn it, Zed!" he snarled. "We've got to get her bottled up before she blows the damn Pact. And I owe that scaly bitch! Big time!"
"Give it to him, Winston," Egon said calmly. He had handed the meter off to Ray and was pulling the destabilizer out of its locker. The former soldier gave him a doubtful look, but nodded and unbuckled his pack to hand it over.
I hope you know what you're doing, Egon, Winston muttered to himself, as Peter slung it on savagely. "She moved any, Ray?" he asked aloud.
"Not a bit," the engineer answered. "What's the plan?"
"Whatever she's here for, it probably involves me," Peter said in a dead flat voice. "I'll go down the stairs. Spengs, you take the fire escape and come in from behind. Maybe between the two of us, we can keep her busy while the rest of you get the packs." He turned to Tabitha as Ray started handing out radios. "And you stay here," he said in a tone that brooked no argument. "If things get hairy, you go down the fire escape and run like fury."
Tabitha raised her hands placatingly. "Don't you worry," she said. "Last place I want to be is in a firefight."
Peter nodded curtly. "Janine, you're with Spengs. Ray, be ready at the firepole. Zed...."
"I've got your back, homeboy," Winston finished. "Let's move."
They waited a moment for Egon and Janine to get onto the fire escape. Then Peter started making his way down the stairs to the second level with Winston and Ray following close behind. Slowly, quietly, they crept to the next flight of stairs and paused. Winston pulled back a bit and keyed his radio.
"Egon, what's your twenty?"
"I'm at the front of the building now. The door appears to have been unlocked somehow and left open."
Ray had crept over to the opening for the firepole and peered over the edge. After a quick look, he pulled back and crawled back over to the other two. "She's sitting in one of the chairs by Janine's desk," he whispered. "We can probably get to the packs easily."
"If we're quick. And very lucky," Winston amended, thinking about how powerful a creature they were dealing with.
"Maybe we should try to talk to her first," Ray said, uncertainty creeping into his voice. "She doesn't seem to be getting ready for an attack."
"Oh, I'm gonna talk to her," Peter hissed. "I'm gonna give her an earful, all right." With that, he started down the stairs. Ray's face grew tight with worry and he started to scramble back into position. Winston grabbed his arm and shook his head. With the Gaurnim on the other side of the room, Ray would be better off trying for a pack with him.
"We're moving, Egon," Winston whispered into the radio, then slowly followed Peter. He caught his first glimpse of the Gaurnim as he crouched behind the banister, ready to dart for the lockers. Peter kept his thrower trained on the creature and went down the stairs sideways. Winston caught movement out of the corner of his eye on the garage floor and looked to see Egon run through the open front door, crouched nearly double as he sprinted to take cover behind Ecto-1. Through all this, the Gaurnim looked unconcerned. She sat quietly in a chair facing the stairway. A large coat and wide brimmed hat lay on Janine's desk, confirming that it had not directly gated to the firehouse. The white mane straggled into her dulled eyes. Winston couldn't be sure, but it almost looked like the creature was tired, exhausted even.
Peter paused as he reached the foot of the stairs. He glanced at Egon who nodded back at him, then started walking toward the entity. As he approached, the Gaurnim looked up. "You have recovered from your battle, Peter Venkman," she said in a quiet voice. "I had hoped you would."
"Oh, really," Peter sneered. "I suppose you're sorry about that, too."
She nodded her head slowly. "More than I can express. I'm sorry for all the pain I put you through, but I had no choice. It was..."
"Necessary?!" Peter snapped, practically shaking with anger. "Okay, I'll buy that we needed a telepath to fight Tirad, but why didn't you just tell me? Goddamnit! If you'd just told us what was going on, I'd have volunteered for it, but you just..."
"I had no choice!" the Gaurnim cried. "I tried! I tried to find another way. A way to stop Tirad that would not violate the Pact."
"Is your presence here not a violation of the Pact as well?" Egon asked, his voice as hard and cold as steel. The Gaurnim turned to look at him and gave a humorless chuckle.
"No, I assure you, Egon Spengler. As the presence of a lone Y'larat criminal did not violate it, neither does the presence of a single Gaurnim pariah. I assure you, the Assembly took my crimes against you quite seriously."
"How seriously?" Egon demanded.
"To be stripped of half my power and eternally exiled." She shuddered as if in pain. "In their eyes, I am no longer Gaurnim." She looked up at Ray and Winston crouched on the stairs and glanced at Janine standing just inside the front door. "The rest of you may as well come in. I am not here to fight you." She slumped in her chair. "In fact, I could not fight you if I wished. The Assembly was most thorough in their penalties."
"Get the packs," Peter ordered, not taking his eyes off the Gaurnim. Ray, Winston and Janine wasted no time in complying. They quickly surrounded the creature. After a few awkward moments, Winston said. "Okay, lady. Are you going to explain yourself, or should we just chuck you into containment?"
"I will answer your questions. You more than deserve to know the reasons." She dropped her gaze to the floor and sighed. "If I had helped you directly in any way, the Y'larat would have claimed Pact violation and the war I wished to prevent would happen anyway. With my own people pushing to fight, the only chance to stop the fatal act was for you to defend your own world, but you lacked the ability to overcome Tirad's mind-hold." She looked up at Peter, her eyes pleading. "You were my only chance. I knew that you had telepathic potential, but awakening it in the normal way would have been painfully obvious to anyone who cared to investigate. Even training you in its use would have left marks that Tirad could easily recognize as my interference. No, the only way I could find to arm you that would not bring about a cataclysm was to work as I did, in secret, making it appear that your awakening was an accident. An unintended side-effect of a sadist's playtime." A wan smile with only a hint of triumph crossed her face. "And it worked. You need not fear for a war in your world anytime soon. At least not one that is of our doing. The Pact is intact, and those advocating war in both the Gaurnim and Y'larat governments have been set back thanks to what Tirad revealed to you in your battle."
"You were watching?" Ray asked.
"The entire Assembly watched. They were most impressed by your collective abilities."
"But if they saw what happened, why did they exile you?" the engineer asked, puzzled. "I mean, didn't they see what you did?"
"Of course they saw," she replied. "And when they saw, they had no choice but to punish me. I had assaulted a sentient being and endangered our entire world. Although my intentions were good, I am most assuredly a criminal. In all things, the laws and the forms must be obeyed." The Gaurnim sighed heavily. "In any case, if they withheld my just punishment, the Y'larat would know that you were no accident, Peter Venkman."
"Plausible deniablity," Peter muttered.
"Exactly. And they were, in their own way, merciful because of my intentions. The usual penalty for such crimes is death." The tone in her voice made Winston wonder if she truly considered that a merciful sentence.
"What's your name?" he found himself asking. The Gaurnim looked up, surprised.
"I am called Ba'aque."
"Why are you here, Ba'aque?"
"For that matter, how did you get here?" Egon demanded. "At half power, you could hardly have built a gate on your own."
"You are correct," she said simply. "The Assembly ordered a gate created to take me to my chosen world of exile. As for why I chose your world..." The Gaurnim's crest slicked down against her skull. She moved forward abruptly, prompting them all to bring up their weapons, but she simply slid out of the chair to her knees before Peter. "I have accepted the penalty of my people for my crimes against them." She looked up at the psychologist. "But I have yet to receive your penalty for my crimes against you. Pass your judgment."
Peter's face was an expressionless mask. "What the hell are you looking for?" he asked. "Penance? I'm no goddamn priest. If you want absolution, you've come to the wrong place."
"I have come to pay my debt," Ba'aque snapped back as him as if her pride had been stung. "I do not ask for forgiveness or absolution. I deserve neither, but I pay my debts. Pass your judgment on me, and I will bide by the sentence, even if it is to join Tirad in your containment unit. Or, if you wish, you may flay my mind as I flayed yours. You are certainly strong enough."
"Yeah, right," Peter said with a sarcastic bark of a laugh.
"I'm perfectly serious. You went mind-to-mind with a most formidable opponent. You could do that with ease. And I would deserve every lash."
Winston felt a chill of apprehension at that assessment of Peter's strength. If he did go insane as past telepaths had done, with that level of power the results would be devastating. From the look on Peter's face he could tell similar thoughts were going through the psychologist's mind. Silence stretched out between them. Finally, Peter powered off his pack and holstered his thrower, slamming it onto its hook almost vindictively. Fists clenched at his sides, he looked away from the Gaurnim. Winston looked quickly to each of the others and gave a barely perceptible nod. They didn't put up their weapons, but they did relax slightly and waited.
"You said something about not being able to train me earlier. That it would violate the Pact. What about now?"
Ba'aque looked up and nodded in understanding. "As far as the Assembly is concerned, whatever I do is no longer done by a Gaurnim."
"Okay, here's your punishment if you want it so freaking badly. You teach me how to control this damn gift you gave me. You answer any questions we have about your people, the Y'larat or anything else we want to know." He turned away abruptly and stomped toward the stairs. "And, after that's done, I don't want to see your scaly face again."
***