Author: Wyrd Sister
Fandom: Babylon 5
Disclaimer: I
know you know, so I keep it brief: I own nothing apart from Chris and the
characters I make up on the way.
Unfortunately I´m not making money with
this story. But presents and cheques (and most of all: reviews) will be
gratefully accepted… grin
Rating: Suitable for all ages - you should be able to cope with a little swearing from time to time - not much, just about the same amount you usually have to deal with on a normal day...
Summary: Dimension travels are possible after all! This time Chris will find out that Bester´s more dangerous than she thought.
You are about to hear the story of a traveller between worlds, between dimensions that have only one thing in common: All of them had been created by people of this world – my home world, the world you´re living in. My name is Christine, I´m 20 years old and live in Germany. And not long ago I had an experience most people dream of all their lives…Chris´ Chronicles
Journal of a Dimension Traveller
Part 5 – Cold Fish
Dr. Franklin let the small scanner run over my arm and
studied the computer screen.
With a satisfied expression he leaned
back.
"Looks like the bone grew together perfectly. Despite all your attempts
to break it again."
I grinned.
"Hey - I have been careful! But I
had to use both arms during first-years´ finals."
The door opened and Michael Garibaldi entered MedLab. He,
also, looked quite relaxed today.
Somehow I´d arrived between episodes,
during an unusual quiet period.
"Good to see you back on board." he greeted
me cheerfully, "And in one piece, too!"
Dr. Franklin was called away by an
assistant who obviously had trouble interpreting some results on a pad. I jumped
down from the examination table, rolled the sleeve of my shirt back and turned
to the Chief of Security.
"Oh, thank you for having so much confidence in me.
I really appreciate it."
"Well, it was you telling us about this
strange school and their…uncommon teaching methods…"
"It´s not so bad,
actually. If you follow the first rule, you can even enjoy your stay."
"And
what´s the first rule?"
"Don´t get killed."
Garibaldi sneered sarcastically and shook his head.
"You
should think this so-called "school" was illegal."
"Other dimensions, other
customs. Speaking of customs…" I made a big show of glancing around carefully
for spies, then slowly reached into my leather bag, "…I have something for
you."
Garibaldi eyed the small can suspiciously, before he
unscrewed the lid.
"What´s that?"
"Take a sniff."
He did and his eyes
widened. Quickly he closed the can again and let it disappear in one of his
pockets.
"Where did you get these? Last time someone was caught with
these…plants he was thrown in jail for 6 months."
"Well, where I come from
you can buy them in the supermarket around the corner."
The Chief sighed with
a longing expression.
"I´ve been born in the wrong time…or dimension for that
matter. Thank you."
"Don´t mention it."
I put the strap over my left shoulder so that the leather bag
hung at my right hip and slid from the examination table. "What happened here
while I was away?"
"We had a few problems with pro-Earth groups, but at the
moment they seem to be behaving themselves. In fact it´s never been quieter
around here. I can´t recall a time when I was able to sleep 8 hours straight a
night. Should stop that before I get used to it."
I laughed, waved goodbye to Dr. Franklin and followed Garibaldi out of MedLab.
Neither the Commander nor Susan Ivanova or Michael Garibaldi interrupted me when I told them about the last dimension I´d lived in for nearly 11 months. After describing the Guild system of Ankh-Morpork, the Assassins´ School and how I´d broken my arm falling down the Patrician´s Palace Sinclair only shook his head like Garibaldi before and smiled.
"It sounds like a story out of an old comic book. Assassinating people an accepted profession? A system of controlling crime by legalising it? Hard to believe."
I shrugged.
"It works on the Disc. Or at least in parts of
the world. And the leader of this city-state is particularly cunning. It is said
if he was ever thrown to wild beasts he would get them to tear one another
apart. I´ve met the Patrician only once, but he´s one of the most fascinating
people I´ve ever come across."
Suddenly someone cleared his throat behind me and I turned around in my seat.
A Minbari was standing in the doorway of Sinclair´s office,
with a humble expression, hardly looking up.
"Excuse me, Commander, I didn´t
intend to interrupt your conference…"
Sinclair stood up.
"Ah, Mr. Lennier, I was hoping you´d
come by before leaving for Minbar. May I introduce you to Miss Christine Stein.
Miss Stein, please meet Mr. Lennier, Ambassador Delenn´s assistant."
I got up as well and nodded.
"It is a pleasure to meet
you, Miss Stein." he said in a serious voice.
"And to meet you, Mr. Lennier."
I smiled back.
"I thought your ship was already gone." Susan said with a
frown, "Weren´t you going to take the "Grace"?"
The young Minbari turned to
her and nodded.
"This is correct. But it seems something has come up and my
flight home was postponed."
Since I didn´t want to stick my nose into things not my
business (yeah, for once in a lifetime) I took the hint and smiled at
Sinclair.
"Well, I´m sure we can continue our conversation later on,
Commander. I have to go and visit Katar anyway – he´d be hurt if I didn´t."
Sinclair nodded.
"Why don´t you join us for dinner
tonight? I´m sure Dr. Franklin and Zack Allen would also be very interested to
hear about your school."
"I´d love to, thank you very much."
Garibaldi had been called into the Red Section, but Ivanova accompanied me to the Core Shuttle and into gloomy DownBelow.
On the way down we saw a HomeGuard-stand with brochures and one of the guys standing in front of it thrust a piece of paper in my hand. It said "Let humans be humans. Help earth to get strong again and join HomeGuard today." With disgust I crumpled it together and glanced around for a bin. Finding none I stuffed the paperball into my trouser pocket.
"Why aren´t you throwing them off the station?" I asked Susan.
She growled.
"I would be the first to send them back home.
But since Babylon 5 is the "hub for interstellar commerce and communication" we
have to tolerate many people I´d personally rather not see around. These guys
are definitely on my top ten list of most disturbing individuals."
She waved her hand as if to scare a fly away.
"Anyway,
where´s Bronx? Since you escaped Bester last time I haven´t seen him
around."
I shrugged.
"No idea. It seems he can travel on his own,
not just with me. I´m still trying to find out how he does it, but actually I
was so occupied during the past few months that I hardly thought of that."
"Ah, yes, Assassins´ studies."
I heard the sarcastic tone and couldn´t help grinning.
"Oh
come on, Susan, it´s not as bad as you might imagine…"
She turned and held my shoulder.
"Don´t give me that.
"Assassins´ School" pretty much tells it all. I can´t believe you´re taking
this…this…course for paid murderers."
I could almost see my headmaster´s face frowning at the
expression.
"Look, life on the Disc is different from this in many ways…and
there are certain rules and regulations when it comes to…assassinating people.
It´s…sort of…fairer than you probably think."
"What are you talking
about?"
"Well, Rule number one says you´re not allowed to kill people who
aren´t capable of defending themselves. The…clients always get a chance to avoid
their fate."
"Are you telling me an…assignment would be rejected, when the
victim is…a child – or disabled, for example?"
"Yes, definitely. No Discworld Assassin would ever dream of killing a child. Well, if the disabled person were rich, though, he or she could afford proper protection. That would be a different case. So there might be a contract, but that´s something that would have to be discussed by the Head of the Guild and his collegues. Basically every client has the chance to survive."
Susan glared at me.
"How noble. And does your usual
Assassin announces his or her attempt to kill someone, once the contract has
been signed?"
"Eh…no. The people we´re talking about usually know exactly about the danger they´re living in. It costs so much money to get someone killed that only rich people can afford the Guild´s services anyway. The average Assassin doesn´t kill more than 20 people in their whole life."
"With…what did you say…about 100 students every year, it´s
not much comfort."
"No no, you got that wrong, there are only about 40 or so
taking the actual…"Assassin Course" if you want. And only 10 or 15 of them will
become Guild members – sometimes even less. The other students only visit the
school to get a normal education. It is after all the best on the Disc."
Ivanova shook her head.
"What a strange place."
I didn´t respond.
Even in my home dimension it is difficult to convince people to read Terry Pratchett´s novels. I mean, honestly: You start explaining your friends about this world – a disc – sitting on the back of four elephants who are standing on the shell of a gigantic turtle…if they´re good friends they start reading the book anyway (and probably get hooked at once), if not, you are the big joke for a couple of weeks for reading childish fairy tales…anyway, it´s even harder to defend the concept when you have actually spent some time in this dimension. You already realized how the mind of people living there works. And after a few months you get so used to their way of life that it´s easy to forget that this particular concept only works in an isolated, unique place and most other people consider it weird at least.
But somehow I´d hoped people living on a space station and getting in contact with so many different alien species and their customs every day would have less trouble to understand.
"What are you doing this for?"
I looked up.
"What?"
"This…education. What´s the
purpose? I mean you could do so many different things – why Assassins´
School?"
It took me some time to formulate the answer.
"I need to
be able to defend myself, Susan. Especially when I go to so many different
places. You know it yourself: A good weapon doesn´t make a fighter, so just
picking a few phaser guns or whatever wouldn´t help much. The school has not
only weapon training, but helps you develop your wits, which of course is even
more valueable. It was the best choice for that matter."
We didn´t talk much more until we arrived at Katar´s bar.
In front of the bright neonsign "Dancing Lobster" Susan excused herself and walked away.
"Chris! Where have you been?!"
I couldn´t respond, because a green tentacle pressed my face against a fat little belly. When I was able to breath again, I saw that Kari, the bartender´s niece, had rescued me from his warm-hearted greeting.
Nodding in her direction, I replied.
"Uh, just around the
block, Katar. How are things going here?"
"You know, the usual. People come
and go, only the faces of the regulars never change."
We chatted a bit of old times.
Kari was busy serving drinks and occassionally punches or slaps when someone made a filthy remark behind her back. Amused I noted that quite a few guys already had a tentacle mark on their faces.
Katar followed my gaze and sighed.
"First I thought she
would drive my customers away, but - funny enough – they´ve all been back so
far. The harder she strikes the more they seem to adore her."
The hours flew by and suddenly it was time to meet the Commander and the others in the restaurant. I said good-bye to the bartender and his niece and went out into the dimly-lit corridor to make my way to the Core Shuttle.
I never arrived there.
I stared at him for a moment, but the way his glowing eyes rested on my face made me turn around and walk a few steps back in the direction I´d come from. I stopped cold when I saw the other dark figure, standing only a few metres away, blocking the other side of the corridor.
Before my hand could grab the waterbottle attached to my belt, there was a hissing sound and a sting at my neck.
Then only darkness.When I opened my eyes the next time, a familiar face was smiling at me.
I didn´t return the smile.
Getting up was impossible, due to the strong metal tubes
along both sides of the stretcher I was lying on. My hands and forearms
disappeared in these tubes and raising my head I could see my legs had been
dealt with the same way.
The strecher was standing in the middle of a
lab, surounded by bleeping machines and instruments I´d never seen before. A
group of people in white coats was standing in a distance, heads turned towards
me and occassionally nodding thoughtfully. I recognised the little badges they
were wearing.
Psi-Corps.
Dammit! And not a single drop of water
in sight.
"Did you have a good sleep?" a cheerful voice next to the
stretcher asked.
"Why don´t you drop dead?"
"But Miss Stein, I´m shocked.
Such an expression from a young lady like you? It must be Mr. Garibaldi´s
influence, I fear."
I grind my teeth and swallowed the other colourful
expressions my mind had come up with. Wouldn´t help much anyway.
Bester
walked around me and sat on a chair by my side.
"If you´re looking for your little bottle – it´s in another
lab down the corridor, we´re still analysing the liquid inside."
This remark
cheered me up a bit. The thought of a group of specialists running tests on
common tab water was indeed amusing.
But not for long.
Bester watched
my face.
"You know, it is strange not to be able to read someone´s mind while
having a conversation. Ususally the thoughts are so strong, they go right
through my block. At least the surface thoughts. Curses and suchlike. It´s
refreshing only to see them on your face, without them reaching my mind."
"Why don´t you take your superhuman mind and-"
"Ah." he raised an eyebrow, "It seems the tests are finished. H2O. Fascinating. Where exactly does the blue tunnel lead to?"
"Isn´t there someone calling for you? The squabby little dungeon keeper over there maybe?"
He turned around and smiled.
"That´s Mr. Quire. He is a P12 and nearly as interested in you as I am. But more from the physical point of view. He was the one who found the fish near your ear trumpet. A very…uncommon little creature. It feeds of brainwaves, doesn´t it?"
"Are all Psi-Cops like you or are there actually nice ones, too?"
He sighed.
"Again, I probably have to blame your attitute towards telepaths on some of the staff on Babylon 5. You shouldn´t judge from propaganda others influence you with."
"Right." I gave back calmly, then sharper, "Because your
methods speak for themselves. Stuff it, Bester – you abducted me from the
station, chained me up in this lab and are going to keep me here till the end of
my days…or until you have the information you want. So don´t give me this shit
about misunderstood telepaths!"
He smiled a somewhat hurt smile and
walked away.
Okay, so they found the babelfish. They won´t cut my head
up yet, rather do some tests before. Wow, what a reassuring thought. Anyway,
there must be a way to get out of here. They know about the water, but since
they have to give me something to drink there should be a chance to flee. If
it´s anything containing water I´m out of here soon."
According to Dr.
Franklin´s analysis the babelfish should disguise my thoughts from these
telepaths in the meantime.
Was there anything around here I could use for
my break-out? I bend my head a little and tried to absorb as many details as I
could.
The lab was tidy and clean. Or rather "sterile".
No coffee
cups were standing around or posters on the wall, apart from a periodical
system. It looked a bit different from the one I´d seen at our chemical lab at
school (less empty spaces), but I wasn´t interested in a lesson in chemistry
right now.
There was a huge glass window on the left hand side.
Occasionally someone was walking by and throwing a curious glance into the
lab.
I felt like the star of a freak-show.
No idea what the machines
and instruments were for, but somehow I didn´t like the look of
them.
There wasn´t much more to see, so I settled down again and relaxed
my stiff neck.
Actually they treated me quite
well, at least in the beginning.
"Well" meant no big laser weapons being
aimed at my head or red-glowing metal being pressed at parts of my body to get
answers for their questions.
They just…ran tests.
They were running tests all the time.
At 4 o´clock in
the morning some guy in a white lab coat would come in and take a blood sample.
Two hours later someone else would require a hair for a gene test.
Or
there would be a couple of people standing in front of the stretcher, just
staring at me for ages. But apart from getting a very uncomfortable feeling from
that much attention nothing happened and they were forced to leave, looking
pretty upset.
After a while it was getting dull.
Not that I wanted this situation to be any more
exciting, but lying around all day – and night – without being able to
move more than 2 inches makes you ichy.
Physically and
mentally.
Weird thoughts were entering my mind.
Do I get a t-shirt afterwards? "I was kidnapped by the Psi-Corps and all I got was this lousy t-shirt". I could wear it on SF-conventions.
What if they´ll remove the fish – and decide they need a few of them for their own purposes? They´ll clone another one – and faster as you can say "asexual reproduction" there would be no need for translators in this dimension anymore…
When I die here – is there a chance I get picked up by a
6-foot-skeleton carrying a scythe?
The last thought came around one
o´clock in the morning and did nothing for improving my mood. It rather left me
pondering about an almost philosophic question: What if there was in fact some
sort of "pick-up-service for souls" in my home dimension, similar to the
Death-concept on the Discworld? Would they come to other dimensions as well or
was I forced to spend the rest of eternity hunting through the corridors of this
laboratory?
I already pictured myself as a ghost, an ill-tempered spirit,
hovering around the place, rattling my chains and terrorising Psi-Cops.
Only they have to kill me first – and somehow I don´t like this
perspective too much.
What was going on with the B5-guys?
Weren´t
they supposed to be heroes?
They could at least make an attempt to rescue
me!
With a sigh I realised that they probably didn´t have the faintest
idea where Bester had brought me. And since the series was – compared to other
SF-series – quite realistic, I couldn´t expect to see them breaking down the
walls of this lab to get me out.
Dammit! I should have leapt into the
Star Trek dimension. Things always turn out well there…
Well, as long as
the rescue team wasn´t marching in, I would have to think of something myself.
Right now a little extra space around arms and legs would already be useful.
Calmly I considered my chances for a successful break-out.
The tubes
around my limbs where firmly attached to the strecher, so I couldn´t even walk
around in the lab, let alone leave it.
"Food" was brought three times a day – consisting of
tasteless pills I had to swallow with the content of a papercup - a green liquid
that smelled like fertilizer. No H2O was to be brought near me, under no
circumstances.
Bribing people to help me getting out was – of course –
impossible in a 1984-society where everybody was used to spying on everybody
else. Not that I had anything to bribe them with…
I know what you
think.
But this idea had been nipped in the bud.
Something like thin tube was collecting every drop
of…liquid my body produced and carried it away immediately.
They were
probably making more of this green juice from it.
Good grief, was I
disgusting!
So what? I´m the one lying in this damned place – I have
every right to be as disgusting as I want to be!
Problem No 1: No water
in reach. Without H2O I wasn´t able to hop out of this dimension.
Problem No 2: To get water I´d have to get up and search
the lab (or rather the neighbour labs since they wouldn´t store any here).
Waiting for a rescue team seemed to be all that was left, at least for
now. I thought of Bronx, but since I hadn´t seen him in a few months I wasn´t
sure if he was still able to leap on his own.
You could have checked on
him before going to the station.
Right, but I hadn´t.
Frustrated I tried again to shake arms and legs, only to feel the cold hardness of the tubes, not moving a single inch.
It was the fifth day of my little journey to "Lunatic Lab"
and after the first shock things had become more and more boring.
Still no
way out in sight.
The door slid open and I turned my head to see who was
disturbing my peace this time.
It was Bester.
The Psi-Cop walked
to the side of the stretcher with a thin smile.
"I heard you are
cooperating."
I growled.
"It´s not like I had a choice."
"That´s true.
Still, I am glad you see sense here. Other people would have used all their
strength yelling at people and trying to "loosen their chains". I´m glad you´re
a reasonable person."
"What do you want, Bester?"
He reached for a chair
and sat down.
"I´m here to make you an offer."
"What sort of offer could
that be?"
"A reasonable one. The Corps is willing to release you, even bring
you back to Babylon 5 if you wish, and provide you with a quarter there. In
addition to that there will be a moderate financial contribution."
I couldn´t
believe my ears.
"You mean like a salary? The Psi-Corps is actually offering
me a job? That must be a joke."
Bester´s thin smile broadened.
"It
certainly isn´t. We´d prefer to keep this...arrangement a secret, though. Not
even your friends will know about it."
I would have raised my hand to motion
him to stop talking, but of course couldn´t.
"Wait a moment. What would be my
part of this wonderful arrangement, apart from not telling anybody?"
"Very
simple."
Oh yeah, I bet...
He reached out and tipped a code into the pad
next to the stretcher. With a clicking sound the tubes around my arms and legs
opened. Slowly I sat up, collected my limbs and started to massage them, my eyes
not leaving those of the Psi-Cop. He leaned back.
"As you know we ran a
series of tests in the past few days. Mr. Quire told me this fish in your
auditory tube couldn´t be removed without harming its host. He is still working
on the problem, but due to my reports about you the officials authorized me to
make you the following offer: You would be working for us on a regular basis,
independently. You´d be able to live your life as it was before, but would
fullfil certain...assignments for the Corps. Meet people, negotiate contracts,
that sort of thing."
My head was buzzing.
"I´ve never done this
before."
"Of course you´d get all the necessary training
beforehand."
"Why would you want me to do this?"
"Do you know why
telepaths are part of negotiations, in all sectors?"
I didn´t have to think
long.
"To make sure the other party is willing to keep their promises, is
honest and to find out if they are hiding something."
He nodded.
"Correct.
Now imagine someone whose mind cannot be read."
I stared at him, feeling
like a fool for not understanding right away.
"You want me to be that
person."
"Right. What do you say?"
No!
Well, that´s what your average neighbourhood hero would
say. Or he/she would say "yes" in order to fool the enemy and find a way
out.
"Why are you so sure that I wouldn´t leap out of this dimension and
never come back?"
The Psi-Cop chuckled.
"Oh, we would have to arrange
certain precautions. A small device hidden somewhere in your body, that´d
explode during a leap."
I nodded.
Sounded reasonably.
"I´ll
have to think about this."
He stood up.
"Certainly. I´ll be back by
tomorrow morning. Keep in mind that this organisation takes good care of its
members."
I didn´t respond and he walked out the door without chaining me
again.
A glance out of the window showed me that nobody was around.
Apart from a couple of bowls there was nothing in the cupboards. Deep in a drawer of a mobile table behind the stretcher I found a forgotten data crystal and - since the white hospital robe I wore didn´t have any pockets - hid it in my right sock.
There was some sort of air shaft near the ceiling next to the window. With the help of the mobile table I climbed up and tried to open it.
It didn´t move an inch.
I climbed down again and - out of frustration - kicked the stretcher as hard as I could. Pain shot through my right angle and cursing I jumped back and leaned against the wall to rip the sock off.
The little data crystal fell on the floor.
Blood smears were all over it. Somehow I´d managed to cut my angle with it.
Well done! You don´t even need Psi-Cops, you get in trouble without help. Just wait another 10 minutes - you´ll probably find a rope with which you hang yourself while trying to break out!
This was ridiculous: There I was, a student at the famous (or rather "infamous") School of Assassins on Discworld (see "Chris´ Chronicles, A Disworld Experience"), and I couldn´t even get out of a little lab.
Well, of course my teachers on the Disc had never seen an electronic lock...but this was about the spirit - and "giving up" was definitely not the way of an Assassin.
I picked the crystal up, stumbled over to the stretcher and examined the scratch. It wasn´t long, but deep - the blood was still running over my foot.
Something about it was weird, though. It was dark, almost purple.
Maybe because of the food…
While cleaning the cut with my sock I thought of a possibility to get away in one piece.
I don´t have much time. They´ll put me into this stretcher thing soon enough. But what can I do anyway? The door and the shaft are locked; leaping´s impossible and Bester won´t do me the favour of letting his guard down. Maybe I should sign his contract - at least I´d be free…
But freedom would be an illusion and did I really want to spend the rest of my life in this dimension? Only a few years from now, there would be war here and unfortunately I hadn´t paid that much attention to the show to say exactly what would happen at what point of B5-history.
No! This is NOT going to happen! I am not going to let them win! I´m not
some kid they can scare…
Suddenly the door opened again and two huge
guys in white jumpers walked in.
…on the other hand - only the fool
claims he´s never afraid…
The bodybuilders were followed by the "squabby dungeon keeper" I´d met
earlier.
Quire smiled a professional smile, which looked a bit
strained.
"Please keep your seat - there is one last test I´d like to run
before the authorities decide what to do with you."
He went over to the mobile table and placed a device on it.
Suspiciously I
watched him and his gorillas, but especially the little machine that looked like
an answering machine.
"I don´t understand - Bester told me…"
"Mr. Bester is a competent member of this organisation, but even he doesn´t know everything…or everybody for that matter. Now if you please lie down again…"
For a brief moment I considered kicking one of the bodybuilders in the guts
and run for it, but the crowd of lab assistants gathering in front of the window
made me re-consider. There was no chance to get away; I would only make a fool
out of myself.
Instead I allowed them to lead me over to the stretcher and
close the tubes around my arms. With a wave of his hand Quire then sent the
gorillas away and walked closer to me, but - unfortunately - was smart enough to
keep out of reach of my legs.
"I may have found the answer to the questions your appearance raised. This device here is programmed to separate your brainwaves from those of the creature. We´ll see how long you´ll be able to resist a complete scan once your little friend doesn´t hold the shield up anymore."
With growing fear I watched him turning the instrument on and pushing various buttons.
Suddenly my ears went plong - like it happens when you´re scuba diving -
and my head began to hurt.
Oh Bronx, I wish you were here! You would tear
these guys apart in seconds.
But again nothing happened. My blue pal didn´t jump in to save the day.
I saw into the faces of the telepaths while the pain in my head grew.
The
guys out in the hallway looked excited, but Quire had the eyes of a fanatic.
Growling he adjusted the settings again and again.
All of a sudden the door opened with its usual hiss and Bester stood in the
doorway.
"I wasn´t aware you had permission to…interfere, Mr. Quire."
This was the first time his appearance made me happy.
Well, almost.
Quire turned around and waved impatiently.
"I know about your plans with
the girl, but you´ll have to wait. This is more important. In a few moments we
might be able to tell where she comes from!"
Bester raised his eyebrow and smiled.
It was the sort of smile that made
you want to run away as fast as possible and I felt that Quire had just made a
very dangerous enemy.
This didn´t help me much, though, because instead of killing the guy on the spot (as I had hoped) Bester only nodded slightly and stepped back into a corner of the room.
Quire continued his work until I saw blue spots in front of my eyes.
The
headache was almost unbearable now and my ear began to itch.
He won´t
stop! I realized, He´ll go on until my head explodes!
Since I´d started travelling, I had never been so full of panic.
I felt as if someone had opened my skull and was stirring my brain with a
mixer.
The blue spots changed, became red, then purple and grew bigger.
A
shrieking noise rang in my ears. Apparently the babelfish didn´t like this
treatment either.
When I couldn´t take it any longer and cried out in pain, something changed.
A breeze blew through the room and the lights began to flicker.
Loud voices came from outside and with all the strength I could muster I opened my eyes. The tunnel had appeared right over one of the cupboards on the other side of the lab. A growling blue gargoyle jumped into the room and immediately attacked Quire. The telepath bounced against the window, the crowd of young lab assistants outside jumped back and vanished around a corner.
I fought the tubes around my arms, but without success.
Bronx´ head appeared at the side of the stretcher. His teeth digged into the
tube and tore it out of the metal base.
"Ouch. Careful, my friend." Quickly I
got rid of the tube and opened the other one with my free hand.
The headache was getting worse.
Glancing around the room I saw Bester
holding the device that was causing my discomfort.
"Hey! Stop it!"
He turned a wheel and something exploded in my head.
A push against the hip brought me nearer to the tunnel. With Bronx´ help I managed to climb the table and felt the wind sucking me into the dimension portal.
I only had to let go...jump back home...have a nice hot shower and forget about travelling and foreign dimension politics for a while...
But not without Bronx!
One hand pressed against my forehead I yelled his name over my shoulder. The
black mist before my eyes thickened, the wind grew stronger.
I could hardly
hold on anymore.
"BRONX!"
Two laser beams cut through the mist and a wailing noise indicated that they
had hit their target.
Cursing I turned around and pushed myself away from the
portal, but the wind was too strong.
Suddenly Bester appeared in front of
me.
With a startled cry I stumbled back - the wind embraced my body, pulling
me right into the tunnel.
Last thing I saw was Bester´s strained face and his gloved hand trying to keep me from leaving this dimension. A feeling similar to the suction from the portal went through my mind.
Then everything went black.