Dalshon
Chapter 20
Sheridan heard about the go signal for the Whitestar Fleet's attack on the raider base while he was about a day out from Earth. It galled him that Delenn was going into battle and he was going to meet with a lawyer.
Delenn should be staying home and staying safe right now, with David on the way. But when the Whitestar Fleet went out, she was going to be there, and Sheridan knew better than to try to stop her.
It was not the entire Whitestar Fleet, of course. Some of them were still patrolling between various Alliance worlds. And the one Sheridan was on was coming to a stop short of the Earth system. He was going the rest of the way on a shuttle. It was impossible to make a discrete arrival in a Whitestar.
He would not come in flying the colors until he was ready to make a state visit. He hoped by then he would be free of the pressing need to assassinate the Earth president.
Sheridan put on an old shirt with no jacket. If he walked around in an expensive suit, it would be almost as bad as wearing a uniform. He would be recognized. His only chance at keeping his meeting with Hernandez confidential was to look ordinary.
He flew the shuttle down himself. His assigned pilot/ bodyguard was a human Ranger in mufti, who would not attract too much attention on the street. He was probably a better qualified pilot, with more recent training and practice, but Sheridan just wanted to do something. He wished he were out with the Fleet in the thick of the action. Shooting pirate ships sounded like a lot of fun right then.
They said it was impossible to break a loribond. But they had said it was impossible for an Earth warship to take out a Minbari war cruiser. And they had said it was impossible to fight the Shadows, and the Vorlons, and to come back alive from Z'ha'dum. The impossible was just something that had not been done yet.
But first he had to communicate the problem to someone. His campaign of weirdness had failed miserably. He and Delenn were still mysteries to each other. There was an old saying that men and women were from different planets. In their case, they really were. They both already thought the other one was a bit odd. So being weird was normal.
San Francisco was fogged in, and he could not see the famous bridge. When he landed and went outside, it was so cold, wet, and windy that his first thought was, 'I hate planets.'
Hernandez's office was at the top of a hill. That did not make it particularly special, since San Francisco was well stocked with hills. But the building was tall, and Hernandez's office was right at the top, above the fog in the clear sunlight. The view out the window was like a castle in the air.
Sheridan came in alone; he had left the bodyguard in the lobby.
Hernandez was sixtyish, sporting white hair and the kind of paunch that comes from being one of the working rich, too busy to take care of himself. He leaned across the desk and shook hands, steady and strong. "John Smith?"
"For now," said Sheridan.
"I see. Have a seat. Before we get started, a small disclaimer. If you are currently on the run, I can't represent you unless you turn yourself in."
"That's not a problem. This year."
"OK then. What can I do for you, Mr. Smith?"
"You're the guy who cracked open the loribond cases."
"That's me. That's the case that made me famous. Shortly after that it was goodbye Judge Advocate General's office, hello partnership. No matter how complicated and strange your case is, I can handle it."
"Could you tell if someone were—" he wanted to say, under the influence of a loribond command, but the damnably thorough command had been to speak of it to no one, and he could not get the words out. "Um, in a similar… Uh. Under a. Uh. Damn."
"That strange, huh?" said Hernandez. "Take your time."
"Do you watch ISN much, Mr. Hernandez?"
"No time." He shook his head, and gestured to his desk. "Besides, my work is more exciting than anything on TV, radio, the Web, Holo, eDeck, LibraryLife, or the San Francisco Opera House. So no, I haven't seen your case on the news. What exactly are you accused of?"
"Mm. Nothing yet. I haven't done it yet."
Yes! A small victory. He had managed to slip that right out.
Hernandez held up a hand. "Whoa there, Mr. Smith. If you're planning a crime, I can only advise you not to do it."
"Not's that—I mean that's not, what I meant. Or it sort of—" sort of is, he finished mentally. But he could feel the strictures of the command closing in on him. It was all in his own head, and he knew it. It was his own interpretation of the 'speak to no one' order that made him unable to say the things he needed to say. But knowing the cause did not help.
"I'm afraid this isn't working," Sheridan said. Help me, he shouted inside his mind.
"Why don't you start from the beginning?" Hernandez invited, smiling the kind of smile that those who are paid by the hour always smile at such times.
"Alright. The beginning. I suppose I should begin by telling you my real name." But to his own surprise, Sheridan stood and walked to the door. "I need your help," he said, "but it won't let me." He left and closed the door, and got into the elevator.
"Hell."
He knew what he had to do. And he knew where he needed to go. He had already checked on his location, in case this did not work. Sheridan did not speak until he and his bodyguard got back to the shuttle. Then he let the Ranger pilot take the left hand seat. "Mars," Sheridan said. "Syria Planum."
The red planet was under his boots before he was entirely ready to face this. But he had to, as distasteful as it was.
The Psi Corps was under pressure, and many people were calling for it to be disbanded. And many people on Mars were calling for all vestiges of EarthGov to be kicked off their planet. But they still had a presence there, with the infamous logo painted on the side of their building inside the clear dome.
He walked into the building unchallenged. A few people looked at him, then went on about their business. Perhaps they could tell he was there to ask for help. He walked into Bester's office.
"President Sheridan. If there is any word on my lover and the other telepaths, you did not have to come in person to tell me about it."
'Help me,' Sheridan thought at him.
"Help you what?"
'You heard me.'
"Of course I heard you. You're thinking very loudly."
"Thank God!" Sheridan exclaimed out loud. Then thought, 'Finally, someone can hear me! Help me.'
Bester thought back, 'I am touched you came to me. I always knew we could learn to work together.'
'You've got to stop me before I—Oh damn. Now I can't even think it. Because it said not to speak of it, and now that I know you can hear me this is like speaking.'
'Before you do what?'
Sheridan shook his head. 'I can't. Please help me. And don't let me walk out of here before you find out.'
Bester raised his eyebrows. 'Find out what?'
Sheridan turned around and headed for the door. 'Oh no! It's happening again! Stop me! Help me!'
Bester did not hesitate. He jumped up from behind his desk and turned Sheridan around. Bester was much shorter than Sheridan, but he managed to look intimidating anyway. 'You came here because you want to be scanned. Deeply.'
"Yes," Sheridan said out loud, even as he tried to push Bester away.
Bester's eyes stopped blinking as he concentrated. He pushed into Sheridan's mind.
Sheridan cried out and put his hands to his head.
"Assassinate the President?" Bester asked.
Sheridan reached behind him and tried to open the door.
"I don't think so," said Bester.
Guards came running in response to Bester's telepathic call. They saw a bearded man running from Bester's office, and stunned him.
End of Chapter 20
