STILL NOT IN KANSAS
by Soledad
Author's notes: For disclaimer, rating, etc., see Part One.
Yes, I know that strictly seen Ivanova wouldn't learn about the existence of the other Zathras brothers until much later, but I needed to bend canon a little to make this story work. My apologies for the change – and for the slightly fragmented style of this chapter.
Part of the holodeck dialogue was directly lifted from the 1st season Voyager episode "Heroes and Demons". Since Marcus was so fond of Arthurian legends, I thought he would like Beowulf, too.
PART SIX
Marcus Cole was having the time of his life. The inoculation had finally unfolded its full effects, so he was able to put the breathers aside and enjoy his visit on board Voyager. At first, he was a little shocked to see an Earth ship this… bright. Earthforce destroyers were usually big, grim-looking things one served on but never really considered a home. Minbari cruisers had an eerie elegance, an air of alienness about them that made it hard for a human to feel comfortable, even without the reminiscences of the brutal war between the two races little more than ten years earlier. Not even the White Star was completely free of it.
Voyager, however, had something of a flying five-star-hotel look to it, despite her smaller size. The quarters completely lacked the dimness that was so characteristic for Babylon 5's similar accommodations, every single person had almost obscenely much room at their disposal, everything was just a hair's breadth from being too bright and cheerful – and the holodecks were a marvel.
The whole adventure had started in the quarters of the blond pilot, Tom Paris. Marcus had brought the history tapes from Babylon 5, but when they tried to feed them into Tom's computer, they ran into an incompatibility problem again. Tom grumbled something about this getting old and called for his friend, Ensign Harry Kim, who was apparently some sort of computer wiz, and while Harry laid several very clever alternative pathways to make the two systems "talk to each other", as he put it, the three of them talked about literary preferences.
As it turned out, Earth history of the two different universes had been parallel for quite some time. Harry was well versed in legends about Arthur (and listened with great interests to Marcus' tale about a particularly late delivery of Avalon), while Marcus was no ignorant when it came to the Eddas and Beowulf. Tom Paris, who obviously preferred a different (i.e. much later) period of history, finally got fed up with their "medieval chatter" and after Harry had finished bypassing half the computer relays, sent them out to "play on the holodeck", while he started the comparative reviewing of the files, backwards from the latest entries.
"What's a 'holodeck'?" Marcus asked in confusion.
"Come with me," Harry practically dragged him out of Tom's quarters and into the transport tube they called a 'turbolift'. "Holodeck 2," he told the lift, then grinned at Marcus. "Don't worry, you'll love it!"
A few moments later they were standing in front of what looked like a pair of huge, silver-coloured doors. Harry touched the control panel next to the entrance and said, "Computer, initiate program Kim oh-twelve."
"Program complete," the artificial female voice replied. "Enter when ready."
"Open," Harry said; the doors slid aside and they stepped into a dark forest. Marcus winced a little when the doors snapped close behind them, but looked around curiously nevertheless.
"What is this place? Looks like the scenario to some medieval movie."
"This is a holographic simulation, based on Beowulf," Harry stated proudly. "I've programmed it last year and progressively refined the details. It's as perfect now as I ever can make it. Let's change first, shall we? I've got some clothes that will match the simulation. We'll go as Beowulf and his shieldmate."
"Beowulf didn't have a shieldmate," Marcus pointed out, eyeing the costumes suspiciously. "Or did he have one in your universe?"
"No," Harry admitted, "but I want you to be part of the game, and your current clothes won't exactly match. Why do you wear this old-fashioned cloak on a space station anyway?"
"Why are you wearing boots with your pajamas?" shot back Marcus, giving Harry's uniform a critical glare.
"These are not pajamas," Harry replied, a little irritated. "This is a regular uniform, and boots are part of it."
"My point exactly," Marcus shrugged. "We don't choose our uniform; and even if we did, my choice would be the one I'm wearing, rather than your pajamas."
Harry shook his head. "You are hopeless. Now, get changed, so that we can start our adventure."
Minutes later, wearing proper 6th century gear (with the exception of Marcus' fighting pike which he was unwilling to leave behind), they started their way down the narrow path leading between the dark trees. After only a few steps, an arrow hissed out of the miss and embedded itself into a tree, dangerously close to Marcus's head, and a deep, no-nonsense female voice said, "Speak as a friend... or stand challenged."
Marcus looked in the direction where the arrow had come from, and saw a blonde woman, clad in shiny medieval armour and pointing a huge broadsword at his throat, stepping out from under the trees.
"I am Freya, shield maiden, daughter of King Hrothgar," she added, giving them a thoroughly menacing look. "I hold this guard post against any intruders who would bear us harm. So declare yourselves. I will hear your answer before you march any further through this land."
"I'm called Beowulf," Harry replied. "I have come to your land to fight the monster Grendel and free your forests from its evil."
"Are you insane?" Marcus hissed. "We are in no shape to face any monsters here!"
Harry gave him a pitying look. "Marcus… these are holographic monsters. They may look real, but the safety systems of the holodeck won't allow us to get seriously hurt."
"What about her?" Marcus nodded toward the blonde woman.
"She's a hologram, too," Harry said.
Freya waited patiently for them to finish their private conversation, then she sheathed her sword again. "Brave warriors are always welcome in our halls," she said. "Follow me! I'll take you to the King."
Meanwhile in Sickbay the EMH, Ensign Wildman and Kes were busily working on Dr. Hobbs' vaccine. The prototype was perfectly good for humans, but they had to modify it for every single species on board Voyager – and on Babylon 5.
"Dr. Hobbs gave me a copy of the xenobiology files of Babylon 5," Sam Wildman said. "If the two of you are willing to work on the variations for our crewmembers, I can try my hand on the major alien species on the station. Some of them seem to have a truly amazing metabolism."
The EMH gave her an irritated look, though Sam still failed to understand how a hologram could be irritated in the first place. Whatever subroutines the EMH was using, he made a very convincing imitation.
"I will work on the vaccine for our crew, Ensign," he said in a manner that made it very clear what he thought of non-professionals giving him suggestions. "In the meantime Kes can start inoculating the human members of the crew. The sooner they can start moving freely around the station the better. 140 crewmembers suffering from cabin fever is nothing I'm looking forward to. At least Vulcans do have some discipline."
'Yes, doctor," Kes replied with a patient smile and grabbing a whole tray with about a dozen prepared hyposprays, each containing six shots, left. Sam Wildman wisely refrained from any comment. In spite of being a hologram, Voyager's chief medical officer had a wide variation of moods, most of them foul. It was better to leave him alone.
Several sectors farther Sheridan finally decided to call it a day – and not entirely an unsuccessful one. Though he still failed to find a pattern in the Shadow attacks, at least he had managed to finish a great portion of his paperwork, and that was definitely a relief. He secured everything, closed his office and walked over to the war room to talk to Ivanova.
Susan was already waiting for him – still in uniform, which revealed that she had worked overtime again. It was not good for both ranking officers to overwork themselves like this, but there was nothing they could do about it. Lt. Corwin, while a reliable young man, was much too inexperienced to act on his own in the case of crisis. And lately almost everything on Babylon 5 could be considered as some sort of crisis.
"Have you managed to talk to Draal about our newest problem?" Sheridan asked, taking hold of the thermos can with the coffee. He knew of course that the coffee would be stale (it usually was), but even stale coffee was better than no coffee at all.
Ivanova shook her head, holding out her own mug for a refill of the barely identifiable brown liquid. "No, he was… otherwise occupied. I talked to Zathras, though."
"Zathras?" It was hard to decide whether Sheridan's expression had been caused by that statement, by the taste of his coffee or by the complete lack of the latter. "Correct me if I'm wrong, but haven't we left Zathras behind on Babylon 4?"
"No, sir," Ivanova replied with a blank face; "that was Zathras." And before Sheridan could be strongly tempted to call MedLab, she added, "Apparently, there are ten of them… well, only nine now. All called Zathras. Only the pronunciation is different – although I couldn't point out the actual difference. Anyway, this Zathras told me that Draal has used up much of his strength pulling that stunt with Babylon 4 and right now he needs to… erm… recharge."
"But he will be able to help us with the Voyager problem, won't he?" Sheridan asked. Ivanova wriggled in her seat uncomfortably.
"Honestly, sir? I just don't know. We'll have to contact him again, later, when he has rested a while. Or wait for him to contact us. Zathras made it very clear that he can't be disturbed right now."
"Great," Sheridan glared at his coffee in frustration, "just great. I wonder what else can go wrong?"
Ivanova shot him a warning look. "If I were you, I wouldn't give the universe any ideas. Sir."
Lyta Alexander found the MedLabs busy like an anthill when she entered to ask for her inoculation. Since Sheridan had made it clear that they might need her services while dealing with the strange humans (and eventually even with their alien crewmates), it seemed only logical that she got the vaccine as soon as possible. The enhancements she had received on the Vorlon homeworld might have protected her, at least to a certain extent, but she wasn't taking any unnecessary risks. For once, even the new Vorlon ambassador agreed with her – or at least he hadn't made any objections – so she decided to get the whole thing over with.
"Oh, Lyta, good," Dr. Hobbs smiled at her, filling a syringe; Lyta had announced herself timely, so she was expected. "I've already prepared your dosis. If you have any problems, allergic reactions, whatever, please tell me immediately."
"Of course, doctor," Lyta smiled back at the friendly woman and rolled up her sleeve. "Has Ensign Wildman left already?"
"She's been gone for hours," Lillian Hobbs delivered the shot with the practice earned in long years spent in the service of medicine. "She'll come back tomorrow, though, and I'm looking forward to it. She is a very nice woman and a good scientist. Do you think these people are very different from us?"
"In certain things, yes," Lyta rubbed her arm to get rid of the stinging the needle left. "They seem to be more open… more trusting. I almost believe that they'd have a different attitude towards telepaths, too."
"They should," Dr. Hobbs shrugged. "According to Sam Wildman, there are several members of that Federation of theirs whose races are completely made up of telepaths. It would be rather stupid of them if they had the same paranoid attitude as most humans of our world have."
"What?" Lyta stared at the doctor in utter shock. "A whole race of telepaths?"
"More than one," Dr. Hobbs corrected. "At least three such races are represented on Voyager, I heard. I think you're gonna have some very interesting encounters, once they are able to move around Babylon 5 freely."
"Well, I… I guess so," Lyta said, more than a little shaken; then she stood. "Thank you, doctor. I have to go now. The ambassador asked me to take a look at his ship. I think he's not very happy about those strangers being so close to it."
"Lyta," the doctor hesitated a little, searching for the right expressions, "that ship… It's more than just a piece of amazing organic technology, isn't it? Dr. Franklin once said that the Vorlon ship is alive. Is that true?"
"More than you could imagine," Lyta whispered. "More than you'd ever like to know."
Kes had finished giving shots to the human crewmembers of Voyager; it took her several turns, but now she was done. After her first round, the EMH had inoculated her with the modified vaccine, warning her that her metabolism, due to her young age even for an Ocampa, could react differently than a human body would, and that she should rest after having finished her job. Indeed, she felt just a little dizzy, and resting sounded right… but then she felt that pull again.
The ship… that strange ship across the docking bay never ceased to call out to her, ever since they had docked in. Sometimes it was like a far-away humming; like a song that one could hear but was unable to make out the words belonging the melody. A song full of mysteries and promise to unveil all the secrets of the universe. And sometimes it was just a call, very direct and personal; a demand that she headed this call and listened.
Slowly, almost like in a trance, Kes put down the tray with the empty hyposprays and left Sickbay. But she didn't head her quarters as the EMH had ordered. She headed towards the landing exit – the doors that led to the outside in cases Voyager was in drydock or landed on a planet.
Captain Janeway's ready room definitely had an air of a cozy little saloon about it at the moment. As none of the senior officers were needed during Gamma shift, Chakotay, Tuvok, Torres and Paris sat with their captain, nurturing their comfort drink of choice. Harry was still on Holodeck Two with the bearded young man from the station who seemed to be one of Sheridan's most trusted people and who – for some strange reason – called himself a Ranger.
"So, Mr. Paris," Janeway said, taking a sip of her coffee and closing her eyes in bliss; having Seven of Nine overhaul the replicator in her ready room had been a wonderful idea. After two years, coffee actually tasted like… well, like coffee. "Did you manage to find out at what point the Earth history of our respective universes began to diverge?"
"Yes, Captain," Tom handed her a PADD. "It seems that the first alternate events appeared in the early 1990s' – right before the Eugenic Wars."
"They didn't have those?" Chakotay asked, breathing in the fragrance of his herbal tea – a smell only Tuvok could appreciate beside him.
"No, sir," Tom said. "All events of some importance noted are various Mars survey missions. The first politic changes apparently took place in the early 21st century, like several totalitarian governmental coups. And, of course, the first Lunar colony, established at Mare Tranquilitis."
"So we've found the breaking point?" Torres asked.
"In a sense, yes," Janeway answered in Paris' stead. "But we must consider the possibility that we are simply dealing with an amazing case of parallel history, not with the same one that has broken apart three centuries ago. After all, no Federation ship has ever encountered aliens like the ones that populate Babylon 5."
"Before leaving the Academy, I had the opportunity to discuss quantum mechanics with Commander Data from the Enterprise," Kim added. "During one of their missions, they reached a point in subspace, where different quantum realities began invade each other. At one point, they had several hundred Enterprises facing each other, and they had a really hard time to get one lost officer back onto the right ship."
"And you believe that is what's happened to us as well?" Janeway asked, a little doubtfully. Kim looked at Paris who shook his head.
"No, Captain. The parameters in all those quantum realities were basically the same; just the effects they had caused were different. In our case, the parameters don't seem to be the same, do they?"
"True enough," Janeway nodded. "I'm afraid this is a puzzle we'll never be able to solve. Let's just hope that this… this Great Machine down on Epsilon 3 can get us back to our own universe."
"Have you got word from Captain Sheridan yet?" Chakotay asked.
"Just a short message," Janeway replied. "Apparently, they have already contacted the Warden of the Machine, whoever that might be, but received no clear answer so far. It seems that the thing needs to… recharge. But nobody has any idea how long that would take. We'll have to wait… and if necessary find another way."
"Well, as long as we are waiting, we should do a somewhat bigger overhaul of the engines," Torres suggested. "This place is as close to a drydock as it could be. The people might not have what we need, but they might have things we could modify according to our specs."
"The question is: how can we pay them for those things," pointed out Tuvok. "Federation credits would not be accepted here, I deem."
"We'll have to find out what they need," Torres shrugged, "and then bargain. Worked every time for us in the Delta."
"Good idea," Janeway agreed. "As soon as your inoculation comes to full effect, you should go over to the station with Tom, B'Elanna, and… well… sniffle a little."
Torres shot Paris a glare that she would usually spare for a dead Targ, but nodded nevertheless. Paris on the other hand seemed rather content with the assignment.
"Since weapons are theoretically prohibited on the station, we should look for something less obvious," Janeway continued. "Tuvok, what would you suggest to… Tuvok, are you listening to me?"
The Vulcan sat ramrod-straight in his seat, listening intensely to something only he could hear – probably some telepathic signal.
"Kes," he said abruptly and touched his comm badge. "Tuvok to transporter room. Locate Kes and beam me directly to the same location, one point five metres from her current position."
When Lyta finally reached Bay 13, her heart nearly stopped from the sight. The fragile, sprite-like girl whom Dr. Hobbs had pointed out to her as Voyager's head nurse, stood so close to the Vorlon ship that she could almost touch it. And the ship was changing its colourful skin patterns with a speed that reminded of a quickly rotating kaleidoscope. And that was not all. After a few minutes, it even extended a tentacle-like appendage, not threateningly as the other Vorlon ship had always done whenever someone had come too close, but with a surprising gentleness, and it touched feather-like the girl's face who closed her eyes – and smiled.
The magic of the moment was broken, however, by two different but equally agitated voices. One belonged to a tall, dark-skinned and pointy-eared officer in golden and black uniform, who unexpectedly materialized from a golden-shimmering energy beam.
"Kes, no!" he cried in shock and looked as if he wanted to grab the girl and tear her away from the living ship.
"Do not interfere!" Lyta warned him; the ship might have been tolerated the girl for some stranger reason, but it would not tolerate the other alien. "It's not harming her."
With the other sound she was much too familiar by now. It sounded like a whole nest of angry hornets, and Lyta was not surprised to see Kosh – or, to be more accurate, Ulkesh – gliding forth from the shadows. With the two large, horn-like appendages on his EV-suit, the new Vorlon ambassador offered a disturbingly malevolent look. Angels and devils were related beings, after all, Lyta thought, more than a little concerned for the girl. She knew already what this new Vorlon was capable of – and she knew that she couldn't help Kes.
Hearing that sound, the tentacle coiled back from Kes as if in fear and melted back seamlessly into the ship's skin. At the same moment, a wave of sizzling energy was unleashed from the Vorlon, grabbed Kes and lifted her into the air. The alien officer was already moving to interfere, protectiveness written all over his face, but Lyta caught his arm.
"No… you can't help her. You'd only make him more angry, and believe me, you won't want to do that."
Due to the physical contact, she could clearly feel the brooding lava of volatile emotions before the other clamped down his shields hastily. Those were very strong shields, that of a high-level telepath, and they held like Fort Knox. She understood at once how unusual it had been to catch the alien officer in such an unguarded moment. The girl must have meant a lot to him.
Kes, however, was still writhing in the Vorlon's punishing energy grip. Lyta became worried, doubting that the small-boned little creature would last long against the enraged Vorlon, but couldn't think of any way she could help her.
"Kes," the alien officer suddenly said, "focus! Think of the Bothans… of Species 8472… You can do this. Free yourself!"
To Lyta's utter surprise, the girl suddenly opened her eyes, a hard expression appearing on the sweet face of hers. In the next moment, the Vorlon's grip was broken. Kes landed on her feet like a cat and focussed her inner strength once again, hurling the huge Vorlon against the nearest bulkhead with a force the impact of which made the whole bay tremble with the aftershock. Then she collapsed on the floor – surprisingly enough, still conscious.
Lyta could feel the shock of the Vorlon when Ulkesh hurriedly retreated. She could understand it. Vorlons were so used to their own superiority. Being beaten by such a seemingly fragile girl must have shaken him to the proverbial bone.
The alien officer knelt down next to the girl and took her hand. "Kes… how are you feeling."
"I am fine," the girl had a little difficulty breathing, despite her brave words. "A little shaken, but it's getting better already."
"What were you doing here? The captain told us not to go near that ship."
"The ship… it called to me, Tuvok! It said I was the first new thing it has seen… the first new song it has heard in its entire life. It was curious. It wanted to learn."
"Could you feel anything else from it?" The officer, whose name was apparently Tuvok, asked.
"It is old, very old," Kes replied, "and it is sentient… to a certain grade. But its thoughts were much too alien for me. I could barely understand when it tried to speak to me directly."
"Did you feel anything from Kosh?" Lyta asked quietly. So far she had been unable to get a true glimpse into her new boss' mind. The girl gave her a long, thoughtful look.
"Darkness," she finally said.
"That is enough for now," the officer interrupted. "You need to rest, Kes. I will take you back to your quarters." He laid a hand on the girl's forehead and looked her straight in the eyes. "Sleep," he ordered in a low voice, and within a few moments, Kes' eyes fluttered close and she fell asleep quickly.
"Can you do that to anyone? "Lyta asked. Tuvok shook his head.
"No; at least not so quickly. But Kes is my pupil, thus her mind is particularly perceptive towards mine. I have been teaching her how to use and control her abilities for two years."
"You are very protective towards her, aren't you?"
"She is my pupil. And she is very young, even for an Ocampa."
"How old is she? Fifteen? Sixteen?" Lyta was really curious now.
"She is three," the officer answered matter-of-factly. "Ocampa only live nine years."
"Nine years? Are you an Ocampa, too?" Lyta tried to guess if the difference in the ears was only a matter of age by this species. "How old are you then?"
"I am not an Ocampa," Tuvok carefully gathered the sleeping girl in his arms. "I am a Vulcan, and I am a hundred and ten standard years old. My people are rather long-lived. Most of us live easily two hundred years, some even more."
"And you're all telepaths, aren't you?"
"That is correct," the officer turned to leave. "My apologies, Ms. Alexander, but I have to take Kes to her quarters now. She cannot completely channel her powers yet, and when they surface in an emergency like this, she needs to rest afterwards."
"Of course," Lyta hesitated for a moment, but she just couldn't let such an opportunity slip from her hands. "I'd… I'd like to talk to you later. About your people… and hers… I'm the only human telepath on Babylon 5, and I don't have the chance to be with people like myself too often."
"That would be acceptable," the officer answered. "I shall ask Captain Janeway if I may invite you to Voyager where we can talk undisturbed. If she agrees, I will leave you a message. Live long and prosper, Ms. Alexander."
Under normal circumstances Alyt Neroon couldn't have slipped into Babylon 5 unnoticed. Not the regular way, that is. But the Star Riders had had their well-placed operatives on the station for years – disguised as Religious or Worker Caste members, as revealing their true identities would have raised unwanted suspicions – and they knew… alternate ways to smuggle someone onto the station.
Wearing the simple hooded robe of the Worker Caste over his warrior's uniform, Neroon seemingly arrived onboard a Brakiri ship and simply vanished before he would have to go through customs. No matter how well Michael Garibaldi knew his station, there were methods to override even his security codes and to avoid even his ever-vigilant eyes. There were not many who could do so, granted, but a few talented and highly motivated technicians of the Star Riders definitely were among those.
And so Neroon managed to get to the meeting place of his clan – a rather unseeming little room in Down Below, thought to be inhibited by an elderly trader who had lost most of his money – and soon after him Rastenn slipped in as well.
Only one of the clan operatives joined them – one of the lesser ranks, so that their contact to spymaster Thorann would not be followed back, should they be spied upon. For the exactly same reason, Rastenn was not allowed to approach the spymaster either, not even to save his own life. Each operative had only two contacts at any time: the primary one whom they met in irregular intervals and on various places, and the backup, whom they were only allowed to contact when they had found hard proof that the primary one was dead or captured. That was what made the spy net of the Star Rider clan so efficient, wherever they were assigned.
"Speak!" Neroon ordered his nephew and the female operative called Nidell. "What have you learned from this alien ship?"
Rastenn gave a short but thorough report of what little he had been able to find out through Vir and the seemingly ill operative in the MedLabs. Nidell added a few details, collected by her own contacts. As she had been living on Babylon 5 for more than three years, she had a fairly wide circle of casual acquaintances among many races.
Neroon didn't take the news kindly. "More Humans?" He asked with a frown. "And you actually believe that this tale about them coming from a different universe might have some kernel of truth in it?"
"I am fairly certain that it is true," Rastenn replied. "And it seems that Ambassador Mollari and the staff of Babylon 5 believes it as well. If nothing else, the medical precautions show just how seriously they are taking the whole problem."
"Well, maybe," Neroon still wasn't entirely willing to give in. Did anyone but Starkiller and his immediate staff have closer contact with these… other humans?"
"That is the most concerning part," Rastenn reported. "I saw that Human Anla'shok enter their ship hours ago. He still hasn't left. It seems that someone might be trying to make new alliances behind our backs."
"Do you think that the Religious Caste could have their fingers in the game?" Neroon frowned again. "Or even Delenn herself?"
"Delenn is still on Minbar," Rastenn reminded him, "and I know of no Minbari who'd have had any contact with these… these aliens. But we know that the Human Anla'shok is close to her. He could act as her emissary."
Neroon nodded, his face hardening. "This is not good," he said. "The situation is getting out of balance. We might have to apply harder measures than we have originally planned."
TBC