Chapter 3: The Players, Part I
It was early, and Sinclair was unhappy. The day was bound to be a busy one, so he'd woken early, taking only a coffee and toast as breakfast, hoping for a mid-morning break and some sampling in the new delicatessen that'd opened in the Zocalo. Garibaldi had left him a note, late the night before, saying that his new prisoner claimed to be an alien from a so-far unknown civilization, and the commander had hoped it'd make an interesting diversion from his schedule. But he hadn't made up his mind yet if he was ready to believe the man. Doctor Franklin should be around in half an hour or so to verify the self-declared alien's claim. Meanwhile Sinclair tried to get some answers from the guy.
"You haven't said yet how you managed to come onboard Babylon 5. You didn't pass through the checkpoints."
"Well, you see, my ship wouldn't like your docking system." The man reclined in his chair, twitching as if about to put his feet up in the table, but stopped himself just in time. Garibaldi had nearly blown a fuse when he last tried to do it. Well, at least this 'Doctor Smith' was capable of *some* self-restraint, Sinclair thought wryly. "So I just beamed up inside," the prisoner completed, grinning maniacally.
"Beamed up? You mean, you dematerialized and rematerialized inside my station?" Such technology was unheard of outside fiction. If true, that'd mean he was really from a very advanced civilization. But given his behavior so far, Sinclair was more inclined to believe that Garibaldi was right in doubting his sanity. He glanced at his security chief, resting against the wall behind the prisoner. Garibaldi stared back, inclining his head towards the prisoner and shrugging. "Where's your ship, then?"
"She's camouflaged. She can be very discreet, you see."
"I see. So you're Doctor John Smith-"
"Just the Doctor, please!"
"You're called 'the Doctor', a traveller from Gallifrey, a planet from another galaxy, and you're just passing through-"
"I didn't want to cause any trouble," the prisoner said, leaning forward, "to you or to your security chief, so if you just let me go, I'll be out of your hair before you notice me again."
"Not so fast! You still have to explain what you were doing in my station-"
"Oh, nothing! I was just curious, this big space station, built by humans, to promote peace and diplomacy! You're brilliant," he gushed, grinning widely.
Sinclair shook his head, nonplussed, and tried to get back on topic. "You were seen following me around in the Zocalo, and you asked to speak with me. Why? Is there something you want from me?"
'The Doctor' relaxed back in his chair, straightening his legs under the table and pushing his hands into the pockets of his brown jacket. But his eyes were fixed upon Sinclair, and the commander had to stare back at him. "You are not what I thought you'd be, Commander. And that's good, that's very good." He smiled, and Sinclair shivered. His eyes seemed to look right into his soul. "No, I don't want something from you, though it seems others do. You'd do well to pay attention to your inner voice." The man didn't look crazy any longer. He looked terrifying, like an ancient prophet of doom. "That little voice that tells you not to trust mysterious strangers, nor even more mysterious friends." But before he could think about it, the impression dissolved as a dark cloud that was blown away, and there was sympathy and softness in those eyes and smile. "I wish you all good fortune, for you personally and for humanity in general. And now it seems I've attracted the attention of one of your mysterious friends." He grinned, before sitting erect, looking behind Sinclair and becoming serious for the first time that morning.
A moment passed while Sinclair tried to collect himself enough to resume the questioning. But then the door opened and a guard entered.
"I'm sorry, sir, but Ambassador Kosh is here. He insists that he needs to speak with the prisoner, right now."
"All right, let him in." Sinclair could use the interruption to try to settle his mind. Besides, he was curious about what the Vorlon would want from this possibly insane human. Or, he thought it seemed more likely now, their new alien contact.
Kosh entered the interrogation room, ignoring both Sinclair and Garibaldi, and slid closer to the table until he was facing the prisoner, who'd stood, pushing his chair back, and was now facing the Vorlon back, expressionless, with his hands still inside his pockets.
"Who are you?" Kosh asked, before Sinclair could say anything.
"That's the question, isn't it?" The Doctor asked back, raising an eyebrow. "One of them, at least. Go ahead and look, if you're that curious!"
After an instant, Sinclair had the distinct impression that the Vorlon shuddered, though he hadn't moved other than widening his 'eye'.
"You shouldn't be here," Kosh said.
"I'm the Doctor, and I go where I go," the Doctor replied.
"You are not needed. Leave. Your presence will upset the balance."
"That's not my problem. You know why I'm here." The Doctor was frowning now, and both humans felt the tension rise within the room.
Kosh seemed to hesitate, then, without turning, he asked, in a different tone of voice, almost whispering, "Leave us alone. Leave, now."
Both Sinclair and Garibaldi knew that was a request directed to them. Not even a demand as he'd usually do. But Sinclair wasn't sure if he should leave the room, given the tense situation. The Doctor, as their prisoner, was his responsibility, and he didn't know what Kosh wanted with him. However, as he turned to speak to the Doctor, he saw the man briefly glancing at him and nodding slightly. So the commander gestured to Garibaldi, and they left the room. Once the door was closed, Garibaldi urged him to his workstation, where the video feed would allow them to monitor what's happening inside the interrogation room. However, as they arrived and began watching, the screen suddenly blacked out.
Inside the interrogation room, both Kosh and the Doctor stood at the same spots, not moving or saying anything until the video feed from the room was interrupted.
"Time Lord, this does not concern you. This is our dispute," the Vorlon began.
"It's been going on for far too long, hasn't it?" The not-human smirked.
"There are rules. We must follow them."
"I'm not bound by your rules. You have involved these people, and you shouldn't have."
"They are not your concern," Kosh tried.
"Ooh, wrong answer. Tell me that's not a closed time loop what I've felt here," the Doctor replied. The other was silent inside his encounter suit, so he continued, "That's why. You are trying to take the upper hand, and resorted to using Time. You want to win." It wasn't a question.
"The cycle has gone on for too long."
"But you can't account for what your opponent will do. Your conflict is escalating. Time is involved, now. This must end." The Doctor stared at the Vorlon, and the other felt the storm behind his eyes. "The question is, are you going to oppose me?"
Kosh paused, looking at the Doctor. He himself had been the prime force behind the move, centuries before. He was tired, too, of the cycle. He wanted to end it. He didn't know what the Time Lord would do, and what it would cost them. However, defying the Time Lord would not only go against their convictions, but Kosh believed it'd be pointless, and could cost them everything.
"No," he finally replied. "Are you going to stay here?" Maybe the Doctor would allow him to atone for his mistakes.
"That's still to be decided. But it's as good a place as any. Or even better, seeing as most everyone involved is here as well," the Doctor rambled a bit, before closing his mouth and fixing Kosh with a glare. "We'll talk, later."
The Vorlon inclined his head respectfully, and left the room. The humans were waiting outside, after trying unsuccessfully to enter the room while they were talking. He tried to go past them, but Sinclair wanted answers. So, after glancing inside the room and seeing the Doctor placidly sitting back in his chair, stretching his arms over his head as if bored, the commander stepped in front of the Vorlon.
"What was that all about, who is he?" he asked.
"Not your concern."
"Of course he is my concern, he is in my station."
"If he is human, he's under our jurisdiction," added Garibaldi.
"You don't know who he is," was the cryptic reply.
"Then tell me, is he a friend or an enemy?"
"Not the enemy," Kosh replied, after a couple of seconds. "You cannot hold him. Let him go."
A/N: Okay, I've broken my "Players" chapter into two, maybe three parts, so I can post something this week. I'm working on the next few chapters of The Enterprise and the Doctor, but it's not that easy. So when I need to leave the ideas settle in for a bit to see if I'm happy with them, I work on this and two other fics.
I think I now have an idea where to take this fic, though I'll not commit to a posting schedule (it clearly doesn't work with me). The chapters will tend to be shorter and more to the point. I'll take this in a different direction than most other stories of this type, but it might take a while before there are any large deviations from canon.
