Chapter 24- The Plan
Things were running seamlessly on the bridge and once again, Jim felt in control. This was a good thing in his book because he sure as hell hadn't felt that way at all during the preceding days. All was again right in the universe with Spock barely stirring at his station behind him, Chekov quietly solving mathematical equations the way normal people do crossword puzzles as he usually did when he had nothing better to do, Sulu kept his eyes on the road as it were- especially since the last unplanned game of asteroids had made him paranoid- and Uhura passively eavesdropping on whatever communications drifted by in space.
Jim twisted in a self-satisfied manner in his chair while he smirked. He may not have known anything about evolved humans or superpowers, but he was the captain of the Federation's flagship and one thing he did know about was conducting rescue missions. Things had once again fallen in his favor and for that he was grateful.
"Sir? Uhura called in a soft voice. "Do you think other civilizations know about evolved humans… in a historical perspective?"
Jim whirled around in his chair a bit surprised that she would ask such a thing- mostly because he didn't think she was all that interested in them. But then again, he had been fooled by her cool demeanor before. "I don't know." He admitted with a shrug. "If even we didn't think they were real, I doubt other cultures would take it seriously either. If they do know, they probably think it is part of our superstitions."
Chekov had stopped doing his puzzles because he was intrigued by the conversation. "Is that correct, Mr. Spock?" He asked wide eyed. "Did you know about them on Wulcan?"
Spock gave a microscopic wince at the name of his home world being butchered yet again. He understood that it was due to a difference in the phonetic systems of Russian and English, but English was not native to Vulcan. The endemic language of the planet was so complex, he had settled on being called Spock just to make things easier for humans who could not possibly pronounce his name correctly. Perhaps he was being too harsh on the young man, but if he could train himself to speak flawless English, surely Chekov could make a more concerted effort to produce a "V" sound. It was, after all, a simple matter of oral mechanics. "We did." He replied curtly. "And we found your lack of acceptance of extrasensory abilities to be illogical."
"Easy for you to say!" Jim cried. "This from a race of people that can mind meld."
"Yeah!" Sulu added slowly turning in his seat. "Of course it makes sense to you since your people have extraordinary abilities! Humans don't, and if they say they do they are either liars or just plain crazy."
"Until now." Uhura laughed. "They can't all be crazy."
"I assure you, they are not." Spock commented. "Dr. McCoy and I have run scientifically rigorous tests on their physiology and in every case the ability they professed to possess has been demonstrated not to be a matter of optical illusion or simple trickery."
"How is Peter?" Uhura asked with enough urgency in her voice to make everyone look at her in surprise. "Well, I mean, is he alright?" She tried with a more cool tone. "Without him, we are defenseless against Sylar."
Jim glanced at Spock and raised his eyebrows at the curious expression on the Vulcan's face. Not many people knew about the relationship between the Commander and his subordinate and Jim didn't feel it was his place to let that cat out of the bag. "Bones called me a bit ago and said he is awake." He hurriedly said before anyone else caught on. "I guess that whatever Sylar did woke him up. He is doing better and wants out of sickbay."
"Good." Uhura proclaimed keeping her head high as though it didn't matter to her one way or the other. "I am sure Nathan will be pleased."
"Yeah." Jim replied slowly. The situation had become strange and he wasn't really sure what to do about it. At least Spock was able to pull himself back together in the interim.
"And Claire." Chekov added timidly. "She vas wery vorried, but I told her he vould be fine."
Jim turned in his chair at a snail's pace to smile broadly at his navigator. He couldn't keep the glee out of his voice as he chided, "Have a crush on her, do we?" Chekov's face turned beet red and Sulu began to laugh uncontrollably.
"I do not understand the cause of your embarrassment." Spock said in a flat tone. "You are both of a similar chronological age, you are a male and she a female of the same species in good health. As long as she possesses traits that you find suitable, there is no cause for your reaction. The desire to mate is strong for young male humans."
Sulu was gasping for breath as Jim shook his head. "That's one hell of a pickup line, Spock." He chuckled. "I bet you are a big hit with the ladies. 'Hey baby, I am having a real strong desire to mate and you seem suitable.' I have tried that one before and all it ever got me was a slap in the face."
"You have tried that?" Chekov asked appalled. He may not have been an expert at the game, but even he could estimate the probability of success at somewhere in the negative range.
"Only when it was last call." Jim smiled. Thankfully, the beta shift arrived to spare them all from yet another twisted tale of his misspent youth. Uhura's replacement was sick, so she volunteered to stay until someone else could be found. Secretly, she was glad because it delayed having to explain herself to Spock.
Even though he knew it was illogical, Sylar nearly scrubbed himself bloody in the scalding hot shower trying to rid himself of the oily, heavy residue that he imagined clinging to his skin. He had never felt anything like it before when he had taken powers from others, and he only noticed it after he had absorbed Peter's and the…whatever it was…happened. Even though he knew it was all in his head, he scoured his body like a person who was convinced that they had bugs under their skin, but it was all to no avail. He still felt dirty and infected.
He got out and paced the floor at the foot of his bed to try to figure it out from a rational perspective. The employment of cold logic had a calming effect on him and he took solace in his base power- the only one he could truly call his own. His aptitude began to quickly make associations and draw lines connecting action and consequence until he arrived at the sickening conclusion that along with the transfer of powers came an infusion of his emotional nature. If Peter had to feel to use his abilities, it only stood to reason that the emotions he had attached to each one as a means of indexing for later retrieval would also transfer.
That was why he felt so tainted: whether by conscious decision or gradual extinction, Sylar did not make a habit of feeling anything. He simply couldn't allow himself to be influenced by emotion in his line of work. If he did, the cries and pleas of his victims would seep through and muck up his agenda. He would never get anything done. But once upon a time he did feel guilt and sorrow; he had to turn his back on that life and he could again with time. What mattered was that he got what he had wanted for so long, even if it did come with some initial side effects.
He closed his eyes and took a deep breath. He slowly smiled when he felt his feet leave the floor and he knew he wasn't using his telekinetic ability to levitate as he had before. This felt different, liberating almost. He could fly. He landed gently and noted that he felt something approaching joy- or rather that was the emotion that Peter had attached to it. A curious theory had formed in Sylar's mind and he had to test it. He stretched out his hand to use his telekinesis and laughed when he was filled with a sense of terror. He now knew that Peter was convinced he would die at Union Wells High School when they fell over the wall. What pleased him even more was the fact that Peter had to relive that night and feel the fear every time he used the power that he had stolen from him.
He searched through his mind for more gems of new powers and accidentally tripped something he didn't mean to. Suddenly, the room went dark and he for all intents and purposes was in a deep trance. Nightmarish flashes drifted in his mind, things that didn't make sense in vivid snapshots of what he knew was the future. He remembered a time when he was able to see the future, when he woke up to see a picture of New York exploding painted in his mother's blood on the floor of her apartment. When he regained consciousness, he felt weak and exhausted. He blinked slowly and looked down at his hands that were covered in many colors of paint that he had presumably made from the replicator.
On the wall of his room was a painting of Peter laying in a pool of blood, his limbs twisted into unnatural positions. Spock had also been slain along with others that wore the same uniform. A strange person looked down on them all, but the back was turned to the viewer so Sylar couldn't tell who it was. But what disturbed him most was that he was holding Peter's broken body with one hand while the other was outstretched in a pleading manner to the strange man. Both men were also wearing colored uniforms. The look of fear and anger on his face was evident and he had the sinking feeling that he wasn't using his telekinetic ability in the picture.
He slowly backed away from the picture trying to make sense of it. All he knew was that he did not want to be a part of a future where he felt anything like the picture depicted toward his sworn enemy and his powers were apparently gone. He certainly wasn't going to join the members of the ship in their merry little club of blind obedience. In his mind, there was only one solution: it was time to escape. It was time to run backwards, far away from the future he was looking at. He again closed his eyes and thought about the life he was taken from in New York, but nothing happened. He tried again, but no particular feeling came over him that Peter would have used to make it work. His dark eyes flashed with anger: he had been tricked.
Down in sickbay, Peter had to be forcibly restrained to keep him from walking out. "Pete," Nathan pleaded keeping his hands on his brother's shoulders, "just stay for a little while longer. The doctor just wants to make sure you're ok, that's all."
"I know." He sighed. "But I feel fine, really." Nathan squinted at him the way disbelieving mothers do and he immediately broke. "Ok, so I am not 100%, but you don't understand. As soon as Sylar figures out that I screwed him, he will come after me and I don't want to put anyone in danger."
"Screwed him?" McCoy asked perplexed. "How?"
Peter glanced at Noah and shook his head. "There was no way I was going to let him have the ability to time travel, but I needed his help. After you guys all left, Noah and Matt came back and we had a discussion."
"Regarding?" Nathan prompted a little agitated.
"The long and short of it is I asked Matt to tell you I wasn't really coherent to make Sylar think I was nearly dead. I…" He looked away as though he was ashamed but continued, "I let him do his thing and then when he took my powers, I sort of pushed what I wanted him to have all at once and hid time travel in a place I knew he wouldn't look."
"What does that mean?" Mohinder asked approaching from his lab. He didn't mean to eavesdrop, but he was too excited and relieved to allow etiquette to get in the way. "Where did you…move…it to?"
"I didn't move anything." Peter mumbled miserably. "I flat out stole Hiro's power and I felt bad about that. I buried it under so many layers of guilt and shame I knew he wouldn't touch it even if he had detected it. Anyway, because I pushed new abilities at him so fast, he probably couldn't tell exactly what he had, but he soon will."
"Well done, Peter." Noah commended. "You prevented him from getting the one power that would do us all in. But you are right that he will be a little ticked when he finds out. Are you well enough to protect yourself?"
"Honestly?" He asked with a small laugh. "Not really. But I think I could teleport away if I had to."
"You think?" Nathan asked sarcastically. "Not good enough, Pete. I almost lost you once, I can't do that again. I will stay with you."
"With all due respect," Mohinder spoke up, "you are really no match for Sylar, particularly if he is angry. None of us could stop him, not even if we all worked together."
"It probably isn't my place to tell you this," McCoy grumbled, "but Jim ordered me to replicate the toxin that nearly killed Peter just in case this kind of thing happened. Now, I am not in favor of harming anyone, but if it is the only way to stop a massacre, I can probably get a vial for you." He hated saying the words out loud, but at the end of the day he was a pragmatic man and he could see his way clear if harming one meant saving more.
"Then I suggest we take turns." Noah sighed. "We can all keep the toxin handy and guard Peter until he is well enough to defend himself. It is the least we can do considering what he has done for us."
"Aye, Sir." Nathan said with a natural bravado that struck McCoy as oddly familiar. "I'll take the first watch."
"Guys, really…" Peter began to modestly protest.
"Pete, it's what has to be done. For just once would you let someone else help you?" Nathan smirked. Of course he meant someone other than himself…
"He's right." Mohinder chimed in. "I'll take the second shift. Peter, after all that you have done for me as a friend, please allow me to do this one small thing in return."
"I got third, then." Noah smiled. "I'll let the others know so they can sign up for tomorrow. Sorry, Peter, it looks like you have been outvoted."
Matt, Ando, and Hiro waited on a lift to meet Sulu and Chekov for dinner in the cafeteria as the initial invitation had become a long standing one. Matt had actually come to like the Russian kid even though he was difficult to understand at times and he looked forward to hopefully getting some news about what was going on.
"I wonder if there are other space people." Hiro commented with a smile. "You know, like in Star Wars cantina."
"If there is a Jabba the Hut, I am fine not knowing." Matt laughed. "Now, Princess Leah…."
"Me too." Ando eagerly agreed. "I would like to meet any beautiful women that may be out there."
"What if she is blue and has tentacles?" Matt asked with a smile.
"Beauty is in the eye of the beholder." He replied grandly.
"Yeah, guess so." Matt mumbled while he scratched his head. He had a point, it could be an interesting experience. He had to be more open minded about these things.
The elevator opened and Sylar stepped out looking madder than a wet cat and all took an involuntary step backwards. If looks could kill, they would all be smoldering corpses.
He fixed his soulless eyes on Matt and asked, "How did he do it? You talked with him, did he tell you he was going to cheat me out of what was mine?! You said he was incoherent!"
Matt smirked and shook his head. "That's what you thought I said."
"What?" Sylar asked perplexed.
"C'mon, you're the genius here." Matt taunted. "If I would have said that, you would have known I was lying, right? That thing in your head would have went off. I didn't say anything, but I used my ability to make you think I did."
"But, everyone else…" He weakly protested. He just couldn't believe he could possibly be duped twice- once by Matt Parkman of all people!
"Yeah, I couldn't take a chance on you finding out some other way." Matt said getting on the lift. As the doors closed, he shrugged. "Bet you weren't expecting that from a dumb cop."
Sylar blinked slowly at the lift doors long after they had closed.