Chapter Five

Illusions

Jason awoke to find himself back in his cell, and for a long time he sat staring blankly into space. He could deal with being kidnapped, and could even deal with being drugged most of the time. But he did not think he could deal with the knowledge of what the sessions would be doing to his mind. All his life he'd had a morbid fear of going violently insane; a fear that seemed about to be forced into reality.

Wrapping himself in his blanket, the Alterran dragged himself over to the far corner of the room. Leaning back, he drew a deep breath, reaching up to his shaved scalp and giving way to a shudder when his fingers ran over the implant caps. Closing his eyes, he swallowed hard and tried to stay in control. He knew no one would hear his calls for help, but perhaps someone would hear him think for help, telepathically. Concentrating what little energy he had left, Jason reached out with his mind as the Doctor had taught him so long ago. The Doctor. Why do I keep thinking of the Doctor? Is it the session? Or is it a message? Did you hear me, Doctor?

"Who am I trying to kid?" Jason muttered darkly, opening his eyes again. "Nobody can hear me. I'm not that powerful, even on a good day." His gaze fell on the tray in its usual place by the door and he went over to it, being relieved to find his captors had stopped drugging his food. Pushing up his sleeve, he found a fresh puncture wound in his arm. "That explains it," he snorted. "They're using the direct approach." Touching the wound, he wondered if he could detect any traces of the drug on his skin to find out what he had been given. At the same time he reflected on the irony that the only thing he could not scan was himself. Then a sudden thought struck him and he caught his breath. Had his captors discovered the secret of his scanning ability? Was that why they'd stopped drugging his food?

Jason had no way of knowing his captors would never be able to extract his secret, thanks to the Doctor's tutelage. He had learned several ways of protecting his mind from attack, one of which utilized his scanning ability as the trigger for a defense mechanism. Whenever Legrand got close enough to discovering his secret, Jason's mind would switch off, causing one of the blocks the computer encountered, and because his scanning was such an integral part of his gift of total recall, a major portion of his memories were chemically encoded, indecipherable without the proper key. Something Legrand had yet to discover.

With no point of reference to distinguish day from night, the captive Prince Jason lost all concept of time. His thoughts of rescue became obscured by strange memories and images that came unbidden to his mind. As time went by he grew weaker and weaker, his health being secondary to the completion of the project. He was given only one day's rest between sessions, which was not nearly enough time for his body to recover. Eventually the lack of proper rest and continual stress started to show outwardly. Dark circles made their mark on his pallid face, his once jet black hair growing back snow white.

With the project nearing completion, Dr. Legrand forwarded an extract containing a massive amount of encoded information to his benefactors. He had explained about its untranslatability, yet they remained unconvinced. He hoped the advance copy would not only convince them, but might also provide him with the key to deciphering the remaining extracts. If he could not crack it, perhaps they could.

Unbeknownst to his backers, Legrand had also gone to other sources for help. He had contacted a colleague who was developing a new type of imaging technology and challenged him to decode the disk, claiming it to be a prototype recording.

A few days after the disks were sent off, Legrand's backers contacted him, informing him that final payment for the project would be withheld pending translation of the extracts.

"Now look, I kept my side of the bargain," Dr. Legrand protested. "I extracted exactly what you asked for. It's not my fault the information's unreadable."

"In its present form, there's no way to verify the authenticity of the extract," came the crack ling reply.

"Are you accusing me of fraud!" the Director exploded.

"Unless you can supply us with the translation key—"

"I'm not supplying anything until I'm paid," Legrand cut in sharply. "My people don't work for free. And they don't come cheap. Not for this kind of work."

The reply, which probably contained another harsh rebuke, was lost in a loud roar of static. The Director reiterated his stand. No money. No translation.

After a long silence, a surprising proposal was made. A portion of the final payment would be sent—along with a possible solution. Perhaps the prince himself could supply the key to the decoding dilemma. It was suggested that by utilizing the probes, false events could be implanted in the Alterran's mind as a control. It could then be extracted and translated to form a basis for future decoding.

Although doubtful, Legrand agreed to try in order to obtain the money, which arrived by messenger later that same afternoon.

Over the next several days Legrand tried time and again to find the key, playing one scenario after another without success. He had learned through the extracts that the Doctor was one of Jason's closest friends and had been trying to capitalize on this bond in the illusions.

Legrand stood watching as the newest scene played out on the image translator. It showed the Doctor comforting his friend inside his cell. The real Jason, who was strapped to the extraction couch, was completely caught up in the illusion, his own mind giving it direction. The Doctor had come to save him! Or had he?

"I've got to get you out of here," the Doctor was saying, glancing back to the door.

"If only that were possible…" Jason sighed, sagging back against the wall.

"Are you sure you're up to this?" the Time Lord asked concernedly. "You look tired."

Jason laughed at the absurdity of this remark. "Don't be so damn polite, Doctor. I probably look like hell."

"You said it, I didn't."

"Just think how I'd look if I'd ingested all the stuff they were putting in my food."

"Stuff? You mean drugs?" the Time Lord whispered, receiving another tired nod in reply. "Are you sure?"

"Am I sure? Oh, really, Doctor. This is me you're—" Cutting himself off, Jason closed his eyes and sighed heavily, a hand going to the probes in his head. "Yes, I see what you mean. Well, they may've gotten a lot out of me so far, but they still haven't got that."

The Doctor threw another look back at the door and then rose to his feet. "Come on, let's get out of here before they find out I'm here," he said, holding out a hand.

The prince took hold of the outstretched hand and scowled. The Time Lord's powerful and reassuring time aura should have registered instantly. But there was nothing coming from the man touching him. He felt solid enough, but that was all. It was as if he were not there at all. Pulling away, the Alterran's eyes narrowed in anger. "Who are you?" he demanded.

"What?"

"You heard me. Who are you? Why are you impersonating the Doctor?" Jason got unsteadily to his feet, falling back against the wall.

"Jason, don't do this," the other man said in an injured tone. He reached over to the prince, triggering a fit of rage.

"Don't touch me!" Jason exclaimed. He pressed himself against the wall, using it for support as he inched his way towards the open door. "You're no more the Doctor than I am. Oh, you've got his voice and mannerisms down pat, I'll say that for you. But that's all you've got."

"On what do you base this outlandish hypothesis?"

"If you were the Doctor, you wouldn't need to ask," came the triumphant reply.

"Jason, you're not helping matters by getting hysterical," the Doctor said gently. "Hallucinations aren't real."

"Neither are you!" Jason got to the door at that moment and stood at the threshold a moment. There was nothing on the other side but pure, blank whiteness. He had expected nothing, and that was exactly what he found. Turning back, he announced, "This is all an illusion!" With these words, the scene dissolved into the unreality it was.

"I can't maintain the illusion," Inness reported. "His bio-electric field is becoming too unstable."

From the translation screen, Jason announced, "You can stop now. I know this isn't real."

The enraged Legrand ground his teeth, his patience run out. "Kill him," he ordered.