STILL NOT IN KANSAS
by Soledad
Author's notes: For disclaimer, rating, etc, see Part One.
The Trek-related events from year 2260 were taken from the "Star Trek Chronology" by Denise and Michael Okuda. What Lyta refers to, concerning Paris' mental status, are the things that occurred in the 1st season Voyager episode "Ex Post Facto".
PART FIVE
Sheridan had chosen one of the smaller conference rooms in the Blue sector for his first official meeting with these strange humans, as Blue sector was the place of "political officialdom" as one of the more strange ambassadors had once put. He was not entirely sure but he seemed to remember that it was the Brakiri. The placing itself was due to the Blue sector's close proximity to the docking ports, so that visiting dignitaries didn't have to use the core shuttle if they didn't want to mingle with the common population of the station.
Of course, Garibaldi kept telling that the actual reason was the closeness of the MedLabs, so that potentially insane ambassadors could be put under medical surveillance without wasting precious time, but Garibaldi had a rather… unique view when politicians and other important officials were concerned. Sheridan sometimes asked himself how the security chief managed to do his job without being thrown out (or into the brig) for insubordination and the lack of respect for his superiors.
Sheridan suppressed a grin, seeing how his security chief and a big, burly man in a gold and black uniform were eyeing each other suspiciously. It seemed that security personnel had certain shared characteristics, regardless of their origins. The whole stance of the dark-haired, muscled man, as he kept almost too close to Captain Janeway and her tattooed first office, practically screamed "security" all over the place. Interestingly enough, his bearing seemed just a little more protective towards the first officer than the captain herself. Sheridan found that strange, but again, he couldn't really judge the behaviour of these people before he learned more about them.
When they entered the conference room, G'Kar, now officially part of their War Council, was already waiting for them, sitting calmly beside Lyta Alexander, who seemed a little nervous. Nobody could blame her, really; she still hadn't completely recovered from their risky action against the Shadows, and it was common opinion that the new Vorlon ambassador was a lot more unpleasant than the old Kosh had been. Nobody envied Lyta for having to work with that Vorlon.
In her usual brusque manner, Ivanova ushered the visitors into the conference room and gestured them to sit down. Barely had they been seated, however, when the door hissed open again, admitting a highly insulted Londo Mollari in.
"Captain Sheridan," the imposing haircrest of the Centauri trembled with righteous indignation, "would you care to tell me why I wasn't informed that the emissaries of a new species are visiting Babylon 5? As the representative of one of the main powers in this sector, I have the right to participate in meetings with new species, in order to protect the interests of our Republic."
"Londo," Sheridan fought hard to keep his temper in check, "would you open your eyes and take a look at our guests? They are not a new species – they are humans, just like we are. This is strictly station business, between fellow human beings."
"Which requires the presence of a Narn, yes?" shot back Londo. "Of a Narn who doesn't even officially represent his own people? Tell me, Captain, do you really think that I became ambassador by being a fool?"
"No, you got the job because nobody else wanted it," G'Kar commented with a smug grin, and Marcus had a hard time to hide his grin.
Londo's head turned a very interesting shade of purple, but before he could have erupted, Janeway raised a hand and turned to Sheridan.
"Captain Sheridan, if you don't mind… we have no objections against the ambassador's presence. If it serves the peace on the station, he is welcome to join us."
The unexpected turn caused Londo to open and close his mouths several times, without as much as a single tone coming out. Marcus ducked behind Garibaldi; otherwise he'd have cracked up from the mere sight of it. Sheridan hesitated a little.
"Well, if you really don't mind, Captain…"
"We do not," Janeway assured. "We have nothing to hide, and maybe the ambassador's presence would even prove helpful."
For his part, Sheridan rather doubted that, but he gave in gracefully. Introductions were made, and they finally settled down to discuss things in a civilized manner.
"You have told Ivanova that you were on some sort of deeps space exploration," Sheridan started. "Would you care to tell us more about that?"
Janeway nodded. "In a moment, Captain. But first I'd like to set some facts straight. Can you tell me what year this is, according to Earth reckoning?"
The resident humans and the two aliens glared at her as if she had just lost her mind before their eyes, all of a sudden.
"Which year?" Ivanova repeated, mentally preparing to alert Dr. Hobbs in MedLab.
"Yes," Janeway said seriously. "I assume you can tell us that. It's not such a complicated question, is it? So, which year is this on Earth?"
"Why, 2260, of course," Sheridan answered, more than a little bewildered. Janeway nodded.
"That explains a lot," she said slowly. "You see, Captain, where we come from, it's 2374. On Earth, anyway."
For approximately two minutes, it was absolutely still in the conference room. Sheridan cast a questioning look at Lyta Alexander, and the telepath gave a barely visible nod. The strangers apparently spoke the truth – or at least what they strongly believed was the truth.
"So, does this mean that you actually come from the future?" Sheridan finally asked. Crazy as it sounded, it was no more impossible than pulling Babylon 4 a thousand years back into the past – an event that had just happened a couple of weeks ago.
Janeway shook her head. "I'm afraid the answer is even more complicated than that." She turned to the blond young man who had introduced himself as her chief pilot and med tech. "Mr. Paris, what have our history files recorded from the Earth year 2260?"
The young man consulted something that looked like a very sophisticated electronic notebook. "Nothing out of the ordinary, Captain. The USS Enterprise was on her second five-year-mission under the command of Captain Christopher Pike. The Karidian Company of actors had great success on their tour of official installations under sponsorship of the Galactic Cultural Exchange Program and got several awards for their performances of classic Shakespearean plays. Last official mission reports of the exploratory vessel S.S Beagle are recorded from this year. Two archaeological expeditions were launched: the one of Dr. Robert Crater to planet M-113 and the one of Dr. Roger Korby to planet Exo III. That's all."
"Do any of these events ring a bell with you?" Janeway asked. All humans belonging to Babylon 5 shook their heads. "Well, then it seems that Mr. Tuvok was right. My chief of security," she added as an explanation. "He assumed that we might have ended up in an alternate universe. It wouldn't be the first time. Starfleet vessels have experienced such a phenomenon several times during the last hundred years or so. Have you noticed any temporal disturbances lately?"
Sheridan exchanged uncomfortable looks with his officers. "We have. But that is not something I am allowed to talk about. All I can see is that there was a serious temporal instability in Sector 14, not so long ago."
"Do you know what caused it?" Janeway asked.
"I do," Sheridan said with a shrug; since Londo had known about the Great Machine way before him, there was no reason for secrecy. "It's a piece of ancient technology we can't even hope to understand. It's below us, buried miles deep under the surface of Epsilon 3. It's called the Great Machine."
"Can this technology possibly be used to get us back to our own time and universe?" Janeway asked.
"I really don't know," Sheridan admitted ruefully. "We can try to contact the guardian of the Machine and ask. But I can't promise anything."
Janeway sighed. "Well, that's a start, if nothing else. In the meantime, I believe the best thing would be for us to remain near Babylon 5, or else we could cause serious damage to the timeline of your own universe, Captain. Is there any way to make ourselves less… visible? Our technology is clearly different from yours, and I'd prefer not to announce our presence from afar."
"You can dock your ship inside the station," Ivanova offered. "There is a docking bay where only the Vorlon ship docks, and it's unnerving enough for people to usually avoid it like the plague. It's harmless, as long as nobody goes too close – can you keep your crew in safe distance?"
"Of course," Janeway replied coolly. "We are used to deal with alien species and technology. And my crew knows how to obey their orders."
Ivanova nodded, completely unfazed. "Then it's settled. I'll transfer the coordinates to your helm station after this meeting is adjourned."
"Captain," Ensign Wildman said, turning to Sheridan, "is there a chance for me to consult your chief medical officer? It would make the analysis of our respective physiologies so much faster; we'd like to get rid of the breathing masks as soon as possible."
"Well, at the moment we don't exactly have a chief medical officer," Sheridan admitted, a little uncomfortably, "but I'm sure Dr. Hobson would gladly work with your. Marcus, could you show Ms…"
"Ensign Wildman, sir."
"Could you show Ensign Wildman to the MedLabs?"
"With delight," Marcus rose, produced a slightly theatrical bow and escorted the blushing blonde woman out of the conference room.
"We'll return to Voyager, then," Janeway stood, too. "Captain Sheridan, could you provide us a copy of your history files? It'd be interesting to know if our respective histories even had anything in common."
"If we can have your files in exchange…"
"You can. But Captain, please make sure that nobody else but your most trusted officers will ever see them. We fully intend to leave this universe, as we have no role in it, but just in case we couldn't… we'd need to blend in, you understand. Even if we do it on a far-away colony."
"I understand," Sheridan thought about it for a moment. "What if you only show me them, without downloading them into our system?"
"That's acceptable. Mr. Paris," Janeway looked at her helmsman, "please see that it's done, once we have docked in safely."
"Yes, Ma'am," the blond pilot answered absent-mindedly and stood to follow her, but he gave Lyta suspicious looks on his way out.
After Garibaldi had escorted the visitors out and even Londo and G'Kar had left, Sheridan looked at Lyta curiously.
"Do you think that pilot realized that you were scanning them?"
The telepath shook her head. "I don't believe so. But he was definitely uncomfortable… and I've felt very stabile shields around his mind, put there by a strong telepath. I've never seen anything like that before. I don't think the person who put them up was human."
"But you could read him nevertheless?" Ivanova asked.
Lyta nodded. "The shields only protect the more… personal areas of his mind. I think he must have been manipulated or abused telepathically at some point of his life, and someone put up those shields to prevent such things in the future. He himself has no telepathic abilities whatsoever."
"What about the others?" Sheridan asked.
"Captain Janeway is a very strong personality," Lyta said. "Her thoughts are ordered and disciplined, but clear. I don't believe she is hiding anything. The first officer is a strong one, too, with excellent shielding, however, his shields are natural. Both seem to be used to work with telepaths, which might have taught them how to shield their stray thoughts. But they are honest."
"What about that young Asian man who didn't utter a word?"
Lyta smiled. "His thoughts are like an open book. He does have some discipline but little experience. Apparently, this is his very first mission, and aside from being rather homesick, he is also excited about all the new things he gets to see and learn. The lady scientist is open and honest as well."
"That leaves the security guy," Sheridan said. "He is a security officer, isn't he?"
"Of course. Also, he and the first officer seem to have been some sort of freedom fighters previously. I couldn't go too deep, as they are obviously trained to discover thorough screens, but the two definitely have a shared past."
Sheridan nodded. "That was my impression, too. Tell me; am I imagining things or is there some sort of… tension between Captain Janeway and her first officer?"
"There is," Lyta answered, "but I couldn't dig any deeper to find out what it is. Nor would I do so without their permission. The rules are very clear about this."
"Well, this is more than we knew an hour ago anyway," Sheridan stretched. "Thank you, Lyta. We will, of course, pay your usual fee for your help; we might also ask for it again."
Rastenn had no difficulties finding a job in the Minbari restaurant. His Worker Caste ID was genuine, after all – not for the first time, the fact that his mother had married a high-ranking member of the Worker Caste (a renowned architect of Yedor) came handy. Contrary to the human's foolish ideas about the Minbari caste system, the only factor that counted in the judging of an individual Minbari was what he or she did in service of society. And Rastenn's father was highly respected, not within his own caste alone but by the other castes as well.
His mother – like many other Minbari warriors – had been killed in the Earth/Minbari war, and Rastenn's heart called him to follow her on the path of a warrior. Still, he had also followed his father's advice and learned several professions that could help him during his covert missions. He could disguise himself as a cook or as a gardener if he had to, or work as a communications expert or as a clerk. This time he chose to be a cook, as it made him easier to move among people of various origins without raising any suspicions.
Now that his daily work was done, he strolled out to the Zocalo to locate his clueless contact in the diplomatic corps. Thanks to a few well-placed questions he had already found out which bars the Centauri usually preferred; he was a little surprised to learn that this particular Centauri regularly met Delenn's aide, but that probably came with the job. The aides of high-ranking politicians were usually frustrated, and whom could they share their frustrations with than one of their colleagues in a similar situation?
It took him less than ten standard minutes to locate the young Centauri, sitting alone in a bar, staring at his half-empty glass in defeat. Rastenn shook his head in slight amusement. Obviously, Ambassador Mollari had another of his famous temper tantrums; otherwise his aide wouldn't look like a recently kicked gok.
The Minbari entered the bar quietly and slid onto the bar stool next to the pouting Centauri. "Greetings, Vir," he said softly. "How was your day?"
Dr. Lillian Hobbs was tired. Horribly tired. Things had been full of stress even before Dr. Franklin decided to embark on a strange journey of self-exploration, but since she had to work for her absent boss as well she had the feeling that she practically hadn't stopped working for weeks. At all.
Due to the current events, MedLab personnel had their hands full, 24 hours a day, and beside her regular work and the workload of Franklin that she had to manage somehow along her own, Dr. Hobbs also had to organize the work of her subordinate. She was practically head of the MedLabs – only without the title and without the paycheck that usually came with that position. Sure enough, Dr. Hernandez, veteran physician of Babylon 5 who had started her job here way back, during the time of Dr. Kyle, did her best to help, and that was not a small thing. But even Maya Hernandez had only two hands and one head; and she wasn't the youngest. She needed her sleep to be able to work properly.
So, when Marcus Cole walked briskly into MedLab One, escorting a gentle-faced blonde woman, who – according to the transparent breathing mask covering the lower part of her face – must have been one of those strange humans mentioned briefly in the Captain's communiqué to the senior officers, all Dr. Hobbs could do was to groan. MedLab personnel had learned quickly that the Ranger's appearance usually meant trouble, and the last thing she could use right now was even more work.
"Hello doctor," Marcus greeted her cheerfully. "Let me introduce you to Ensign Wildman from the starship Voyager. Ensign Wildman, this is our guardian angel, Dr. Lillian Hobbs."
"Nice to meet you," Dr. Hobbs forced herself to politeness. "What can I do for you, Ensign?"
The blond woman smiled. "Samantha will do. Or Sam, if you like. I need your help for a quick analysis. We have to find out if our people carry any germs that could be harmful for you… and vice versa."
Dr. Hobbs nodded. That seemed a sensitive precaution. "Very well. I'll need a blood sample from you and probably a sample from the air in your ship, too. We better go to the IsoLab for that, though."
Docking in to Babylon 5 proved more difficult than Tom Paris had expected. The station used a rather efficient guidance system for docking ships – unfortunately one that turned out to be incompatible with Voyager's systems. B'Elanna and Harry worked frantically for about half an hour to bypass half of the board systems; otherwise they would have simply shut down. Janeway had suggested including Seven of Nine, but B'Elanna flatly refused to work with the ex-Borg. She was not the only one. Aside from the captain herself, who quite enjoyed the challenge, everyone was nervous around her. Considering that so far she had tried to backstab them twice, this was no wonder. However, the captain didn't seem ready to give up her efforts to fully integrate the ex-drone into the crew.
Finally, after much work and more than a little maneuvering on Tom's side, Voyager was safely placed in bay 13, opposite to a ship of unknown configuration and of strange beauty. Janeway made a ship wide announcement that nobody was allowed to get near that ship, unless they wanted to cause really, really bad diplomatic issues and didn't need any replicator rations for the next six months or so. The crew knew her well enough to know that these were no idle threats and wisely decided to follow orders. Besides, the mere sight of that ship made them extremely uncomfortable.
"This is definitely organic technology," B'Elanna commented, watching the constantly changing patterns on the ship's smooth skins. "Somehow it reminds me of Species 8472 and their ships. I don't know why."
"The ship is alive," Kes murmured softly, her wide eyes focused on those patterns as well. B'Elanna shot her an intriguing look.
"How do you know? We haven't even scanned it, due to the captain's orders."
"It calls to me," Kes replied simply.
After all the excitement of the day, Sheridan finally managed to return to his office and handle some of the paperwork that had been piling up on his desk for quite some time. God, he hated doing this, but there was only so much unpleasant work he could dispatch to Ivanova. Sometimes he just had to clench his teeth and go through it.
He had he barely started working when his comm unit beeped. Damn things never let you finish anything. He hit it and growled. "Sheridan. Go."
"Captain," the voice of Ivanova replied, "you've got an invitation to visit Voyager and examine their history files in case you are available."
"I'm not," Sheridan replied with slight irritation. "Unlike other people who are just visiting here, I have work to do. Send Marcus instead. He's always had an unhealthy interest in Earth history, back to the 11th century or so. I'm sure he'll have one hell of a good time."
"Understood," Ivanova said in her usual clipped manner. "Will do. C&C out."
Dr. Hobbs and Ensign Wildman were nearing the end of their work. The analysis of the blood sample was finished, and now they were working on the inoculations. As they had had regular contact with very different alien species, both kinds of humans were carrying several germs that would have been deadly for the other part, indeed. Fortunately, creating a vaccine was not a real challenge for someone with Dr. Hobbs' experience and medical skills. They had also contacted Voyager's sickbay a few times, and after having made the EMH's acquaintance, Lillian Hobbs came to the opinion that Stephen Franklin had been a rather easy boss to work for. She felt truly sorry for the sprite-like alien girl who had been introduced as the head nurse of the ship.
"She must have the patience of a saint if she can work with that… that hologram, without deleting its program twice in every hour," Dr. Hobbs said, filling the syringe with the freshly tested vaccine.
"She has," Wildman smiled," but trust me; she is a lot stronger than she looks. And she has the doctor wrapped around her little finger, even if it doesn't look like that."
"What race does she belong to?" Dr. Hobbs asked, while Wildman rolled up her sleeve and offered her forearm for inoculation. They had arrived to first name basis half an hour ago; Lillian had never reached this level of friendship with a complete stranger this quickly before, but Sam Wildman truly was a very nice woman.
"They are called the Ocampa," Sam replied, wincing a little when the needle pierced her skin; she mentally apologized for every time she had complained about hyposprays in the past. "They are a fascinating species. I'll tell you more when we'll be able to visit each other's place without restrictions. What did you say, how long it will take until the vaccine can provide sufficient protection?"
"Six standard hours," Lillian Hobbs inoculated herself with practiced ease. "I'll start inoculating MedLab personnel first, then the members of the staff, and so on – it could take days until everyone has the necessary protection. We'll also have to produce huge amounts of the vaccine."
"We can help with that," Wildman offered. "Give me a sample, and I'll have the doctor work on it. We can have our whole crew inoculated in a few hours, then we can send over the rest to you."
"That is a good idea," Hobbs prepared a phial with a sample; then she looked up, and seeing Marcus entering MedLab One again, she groaned. "That's not possible! We've just got rid of him an hour ago, and here he is again!"
"Sorry, doc," Marcus replied with his infuriating grin. "The captain asked me to go to Voyager in his stead, reviewing those history files. I thought I'd escort Ms Wildman back when the two of you are ready."
"Fortunately, we are," a somewhat calculating look appeared in Dr. Hobbs' dark eyes. "In fact, it's a good thing you've dropped by. We can inoculate you right away."
Marcus backed off a few steps. "N-no, thanks. I don't like being poked by doctors. I'll manage."
"No, you won't," Dr. Hobbs countered with smug satisfaction. "Everyone needs to be inoculated – especially you, since you are just about to board Voyager. Come on, don't be such a sissy. It won't hurt a bit."
"That's what you doctors always say," Marcus grumbled, but he held his arm obediently nevertheless. "So, does this mean that I won't need these bloody breathers?"
"Unfortunately, you'll have to keep them on for another six hours," Wildman said apologetically. "But after the vaccine has unfolded its full effect, you'll be able to move freely on our ship."
"Bugger!" Marcus didn't like that a bit, but he knew that there was no way around it. He'd endure the breathers, for the chance to see that ship from the inside. "Are you ready? Then let's go."
Truth be told, Sheridan was not the only person who felt frustrated on Babylon 5; Rastenn found himself fighting increasing frustration as well. After sitting with Vir for almost two standard hours in the bar, he still wasn't any closer to learning any important facts than he had been when he arrived. Not that Vir had been quiet – on the contrary, the Centauri had babbled and ranted and whined about everything… save the one thing Rastenn would be interested in.
Despite his frustration, this evasive behaviour caused some reluctant respect in the Minbari. Apparently, Vir Cotto was not the idiot Rastenn had thought him to be. Gaining intelligence from him would prove a lot more demanding than expected, but of course, in the end Rastenn would get what he wanted. Neroon's nephew had been well trained in gathering information; one distracted Centauri attaché might be a challenge but no true adversary.
The flow of Vir's speech was slowly ebbing down, so Rastenn used the opportunity to take his leave. He knew that one of the strange humans was still on the station – Neroon's well-placed spies, all loyal members of their own clan, would have alerted him if the blonde woman had left – and he wanted to take a closer look at her. Leaving the bar, he leisurely strolled through the Blue sector towards the MedLabs where a clan member, faking some mysterious weakness, had spotted the visitor.
He had nearly reached the MedLab section when a sudden movement forced him to step back into the shadows. A dark-haired, bearded human, wearing the uniform of the Anla'shok, hurried along the corridor and entered MedLab One without hesitation. A few moments later, the Anla'shok left again – this time in the company of the blonde woman, who still was wearing her breathing equipment. They headed straight towards the docking bay… together.
Rastenn looked around, trying to decide what to do. Should he follow them and risk being detected or beat them to the docking bay and risk losing them from sight? Finally, he ran to the next stop and caught the core shuttle that had just arrived. The large, transparent windows made it possible to follow the path of the other two. They kept heading to the docking bay.
Rastenn beat them there, of course. He even had the time to hide among the high piles of cargo the dock workers hadn't come to deal with yet. He had an excellent view from behind the barrels and could see how the Anla'shok and the blonde woman entered bay 13. The one where the ship of the Vorlon ambassador was docked – and, according to their spies, also the ship of the strange humans.
The young Minbari decided to take the risk of informing his uncle directly. With just a little luck, he could prevent his call being discovered by C&C – his computer skills had helped him with many such actions in the past. In a seemingly carefree manner, he strolled to the shuttle bay, where the Alota – falsely registered as part of the regular shuttle traffic between Minbar and Babylon 5 – was docked and went aboard, trusting the customary human inability to make any difference between individual Minbari. For the dock workers, he was just one bonehead among the many who visited the station.
He activated the comm system of the shuttle, switched on the scrambler and the additional coding mechanism and sent a message on the usual frequency of Minbari cargo vessels. He had to be careful; not only because of the humans, but several Minbari cruisers were also patrolling along the station, protecting it from any attacks, under Delenn's personal orders. But it was rather unlikely that any of those Religious Caste members fancying themselves as warriors would find a message considering the rising of fruit prices on the Zocalo suspicious.
Of course, when Neroon decoded the message aboard the Ingata, it said: There might be a problem. You should come. Nothing more. But that was all that Neroon needed.
TBC