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Marcus carefully set the tray of tea things he was carrying down on the low balcony table, smiling at his companion. It had been several months since he’d last talked to Susan Ivanova; their paths and duties did not cross often. Marcus had been stationed here on Minbar for most of the ten years since his marriage to Alyt Neroon of the Star Riders, while Susan had served as the commander of Babylon 5 for five or six years before requesting assignment to a deep-space vessel for a while. She’d only recently returned to the main part of the galaxy and been promoted.
“Congratulations, General Ivanova,” Marcus smiled, dropping into the piled cushions surrounding the table with the ease of long practice.
Susan lowered herself somewhat more creakily, squinting slightly in the glare of the bright midsummer sun. “Right,” she snorted.
“You aren’t pleased with the promotion?” Marcus asked.
“It isn’t that,” Susan clarified. “It’s just… what am I doing behind a desk, Marcus? I’m only thirty-nine!”
“And you fought in the Earth-Minbari War, and the Shadow War, and the Drakh War. You have political and administrative experience from Babylon 5, and first contact experience from your years in deep space,” Marcus pointed out gently.
“Well when you put it that way,” Susan snapped. “I’m not ready to be put out to pasture, Marcus.”
“Then don’t look at it that way,” Marcus said. “Look at it as an honourable posting in which you can do a great deal of good as a leader and have a stable planet-side home.”
Susan snorted. “I’m not like you, Marcus. I’m not married and settled. I was happy roaming the galaxy.”
“Really?” Marcus asked.
Susan stared at him, then sighed and shook her head. “Damn it. No, you’re right, I wasn’t. How do you still manage to do that to me?”
Marcus smirked. “It’s a gift. Seriously, Susan, when’s the last time you had somewhere that really felt like home?”
“Babylon 5,” Susan answered without hesitation. “I loved it there, Marcus. Even when it was crazy, even when it tore my heart out. I loved it there.”
“And you can’t ask to be posted back there?” he asked.
“Marcus, you don’t ask for a posting. The military isn’t a democracy. You go where you’re sent.” Susan sipped her tea, staring out at the majestic view of Minbar’s northern mountain range that stood to the north of the Star Riders estate.
“Have you even tried?” Marcus asked. “Who’s commanding the station now?”
“Some flunky,” Susan waved it off. “The station isn’t even important territory anymore, or so they tell me. The ISA seat has moved here to Minbar, and so have most of the diplomatic functions.”
Marcus shook his head. “Take it from someone who used them more than once. A free and neutral space port is always necessary, especially when the officials think it isn’t.”
Susan looked hard at him. “I didn’t realize Rangers needed free spaceports that often.”
Marcus shrugged. “I wasn’t always a Ranger, Susan. You know that.”
“I know, but I don’t know much else about it. You never talk about your past, Marcus.”
Marcus sighed. “It isn’t a pleasant topic. You know as much as anyone. I don’t even talk about it with Neroon. What should I say, anyway? I was EFI. You know what that means.”
Susan gave him a piercing look. “I’ve known EFI officers, Marcus. I’ve hated every one of them. You weren’t normal EFI. Not by a long shot.”
Marcus’ eyes grew distant, as if he were watching something long past. “No,” he admitted finally. “I wasn’t.” He paused. “What could you do to get posted back to Babylon 5?”
Susan shrugged hopelessly. “I can’t think of anything. God knows I’ve tried. But they say it just isn’t an important enough port anymore, and with the current political situation with the telepaths, they want me where they can see me.”
Marcus blinked. “Sorry, I’m missing something. We’re three steps away from open war with the telepaths, and they’re worried about one of the most anti-telepath officers on record?”
Susan snorted. “Ironic, isn’t it?”
“And confusing,” Marcus grumbled. “Because of your mother?”
Susan gaped. “How did you – no, never mind. I don’t want to know how you know these things.” She paused to finish her tea. “A bit, I suppose,” she admitted. “My mother’s death alone wouldn’t worry them, but my reputation as a loose canon where the Corp is concerned does. My being a latent telepath in my own right worries them more. And the Corp having more inside information about me than nearly any other ranking officer worries them.”
“How on earth did the Corp come by that kind of blackmail on you?” Marcus wondered. “You avoid them like the plague.”
“I’ve never been good with relationships,” Susan muttered.
“What?” Marcus shook his head. “Susan, you’re not making sense. I know the Corp, probably better than anyone who isn’t actually part of it. If I can help…”
“No one can help,” Susan denied.
“Let me be the judge of that, please,” Marcus requested. “Whatever this is, it obviously still matters to you. I’m asking you as a friend, tell me and let me see what I can do. It may be enough to keep you out from behind a desk, at least.”
Susan chuckled. “A fate worse than death. Very well. But promise you won’t spread it around? It’s embarrassing enough as it is.”
Marcus nodded. “My word. I will tell only those people I may need to ask for assistance, and only as much as they need to know.”
“I guess that’s good enough,” Susan sighed. “I barely know where to begin.”
“How did the Corp get whatever information they have on you?” Marcus asked. “You’ve never been friendly with a telepath, in all the time I’ve known you.”
“It was before you were stationed on Babylon 5. Lyta was the station’s telepath when it went online, you remember?”
Marcus nodded. “I heard about it. She scanned a Vorlon and then was ordered to act as a special envoy to them, so Babylon 5 got a replacement telepath. From everything I heard, that telepath remained for a couple of years and then was recalled by the Corp. No replacement was appointed before the war heated up, so Lyta ended up becoming the station telepath again by default.”
“You have the strangest gaps in your information,” Susan griped.
Marcus snorted. “I can’t know everything. No one ever mentioned the other telepath, so I assumed they did their job fairly quietly and then left for another posting.”
“No one mentioned her because they didn’t want me to lose it,” Susan admitted. “I loved her, Marcus. Dear God, I wanted to hate her, but somehow she just wormed her way in, and I loved her. I hated everything she was part of, but that didn’t seem to matter by the end. And then…”
Marcus covered her hand with his, where it rested on the table. “Did you fight?” he asked.
Susan snorted. “You’d think. Me and all my prejudices and my stupid temper. No, we didn’t fight. I wish we had. Lyta came and told us about a sleeper program the Psi Corp had developed, and she convinced us to let her send a password to all the staff who had any access to vital information.”
“Your lover?” Marcus guessed, face pale.
Susan nodded. “It was like she died, Marcus. She was a totally different person; there was no trace of the Talia I loved left.”
Marcus suddenly straightened up, staring at Susan intently. “Talia?” he asked. “Talia Winters?”
Susan nodded, surprised. “I didn’t think you knew any telepaths but Lyta. You avoid them even more pathologically than I do.”
Marcus’ expression was torn between shock, betrayal, and what Susan could only call rage. She’d never seen the Ranger truly angry before; it was a terrifying sight.
“I should have slaughtered them all when I had the chance,” he snarled.
“Marcus!” Susan snapped, recapturing his attention. “What is it?”
Marcus shook his head and growled. “Talia saved my life ten times over when I was in EarthForce. I swear to you, Susan, if she’s alive I’ll get her out of wherever they’re holding her.”
“She’s dead, Marcus!” Susan objected. “They implanted a sleeper personality! There was nothing of Talia left! Don’t you think I’d know?”
Marcus shook his head. “With any other telepath, especially after twelve years, there would be no hope. But Talia was one of Jason Ironheart’s hand-picked students. He was a philosopher and a rebel. Talia did her graduate thesis on alternative shielding techniques, and some of what they figured out she never put onto paper.”
Susan stared at him in shock. “How do you know this?” she demanded. “Jason Ironheart died fourteen years ago on Babylon 5!”
Marcus stared at her. “He’s dead?” he asked, shocked out of his anger.
“The Corp experimented on him. His powers expanded so much they kind of exploded outwards. I don’t know if I’d call it dead, precisely,” Susan clarified. “Talia was pretty torn up about it.”
“He was the closest thing to a father she ever had,” Marcus remembered.
Susan shook her head. “Seriously, Marcus, I know you hate talking about your past, but you have to tell me how you know all of this.”
Marcus sighed. “I know. I couldn’t avoid it forever, I suppose. It’s partially my fault, anyway. Let me get Neroon and then I’ll explain everything; I only want to say this once. Then I’m going to have to contact G’Kar.”
“Why G’Kar?” Susan asked as Marcus got up from the table and started for the door.
“Because he knows where Lyta Alexander is, and I’m going to need her help,” Marcus said.
“With what?” Susan demanded.
“Rescuing Talia,” Marcus stated bluntly, before disappearing into the estate in search of his husband.
It didn’t take him long to find Neroon; the Minbari was in his office in the administrative wing of the sprawling main building of the estate, finishing up some paperwork for the upcoming graduation ceremonies for this year’s crop of Warrior trainees. Since their marriage Neroon had taken on a much more administrative position in his Clan and Caste; Marcus had never been sure how much of that was his own choice and how much of it was forced on him because other Warriors did not want Neroon as their commanding officer. Some prejudices died hard, even in the face of official declarations from the Minbari government.
“What’s wrong?” Neroon asked, putting aside his data reader as soon as Marcus appeared in the doorway.
Marcus smiled. “Can’t put anything past you. Can you take a break?”
“Yes.”
“Then I’d like you to join Susan and I on the balcony. I have something I need to tell you.”
Neroon nodded and began stacking the items on his desk carefully in piles. It took him less than five minutes to sort his work out before joining Marcus at the door. Their hands brushed casually as they walked along the hallway, an intimate gesture Marcus still revelled in after ten years of marriage.
“General Ivanova,” Neroon greeted her as they stepped back out onto the balcony.
Susan returned his bow with a strained smile. “Neroon, how many times do I have to ask you to call me Susan?”
“As always, General Ivanova, at least once more,” Neroon smiled at their old argument. “May I refill your tea?”
Susan handed her cup over, and once the formalities were out of the way and everyone had a cup he turned his attention to his mala. Ten years had put threads of silver into Marcus’ thick black hair. He was slightly thicker around the middle than he had been when they’d married, but Neroon well knew that it was still muscle. Regular trouncing in the practice arena proved that. It had also added slight lines to Marcus’ face, but those lines had never been as deeply engraved as they were today.
Marcus sighed heavily, and put his cup down on the low table. “What I’m about to tell you, I’ve never told anyone. Some of it would have me executed for war crimes if a military tribunal ever discovered it. Some of the rest would have me executed as a traitor. I want you both to understand how serious this is; whatever I tell you, you must never speak of it again.”
Susan’s eyes were wide with surprise as she nodded. Neroon looked less surprised; he’d long known his mala carried exceptionally sensitive secrets from his youth. He’d grown used to not asking, and he wasn’t sure he wanted the answers now that they were being offered, but he also indicated his agreement.
“When I was eighteen years old, Earth had already joined the coalition of worlds that was at war with the Dilgar,” Marcus began.
“I didn’t think you were that much older than me,” Susan interrupted, surprised.
“I just turned forty-seven,” Marcus chuckled. “You would have been ten or eleven when all of this happened.”
Susan’s eyes darkened as she remembered those years, but she nodded at him to go on.
“My father had been dead for two years, leaving the colony in my hands. But with the unrest in the galaxy and the shipping lines continually disturbed, it was nearly impossible to keep the colony going. EarthForce knew that, and they started offering military and administrative assistance to colonies if they sent young people in for the draft. Well, Arisia only had me and Will in the right age bracket, so I worked out a deal; protection of the shipping lanes in our sector and Will kept out of the war, in return for me answering the draft.
“I was too naïve then to realize that that kind of deal was remarkable; they agreed because they wanted me for something special. I was taken to the Psi Corp headquarters, and I lived there for a year with nine other teenagers. We were heavily trained; they called us beta group, and we were the best-kept, deadliest secret EarthForce had. We were spies, assassins, computer experts, whatever we needed to be to get the job done. We spent the next two years behind the Dilgar lines, taking out their top scientists, sowing chaos and destruction. And we believed in what we were doing, because the Dilgar truly were evil, and we truly were saving lives. They trained us very well to believe things like that; we didn’t really see shades of grey.”
Marcus poured himself more tea, and sipped at it slowly before he continued. “Then the Dilgar War ended. A couple of us went off to pursue other interests, but the majority of us stayed, working – so we thought – for EarthGov, acting like the Rangers. Scouting the outskirts of known space, ferreting out secrets before they could cause problems. And taking care of them; I have more blood on my hands from those years than I like to think about.”
“Marcus, I’ve spent the last year out on the rim. I know what kind of scum lives out there,” Susan defended him. “You probably had every reason.”
Marcus shrugged. “Sometimes. Some of the targets I had were truly bad people, and the world is better off without them. Some – a lot of them were telepaths, Susan. Rogue telepaths who weren’t dangerous to anyone or anything, but the Psi Corp just couldn’t let them go. They were a threat to Earth security, and I believed my superiors when they told me that. I killed so many of them, and I informed on others; people like your mother. I don’t know how many lived, but I doubt it was a large number.”
Susan had gone deathly pale, but she just nodded for him to continue. Marcus could only hope he hadn’t irreparably destroyed whatever friendship they had.
“As time went on, and I saw more of the universe outside of our training camp, I started to become very uncomfortable with what we were doing. I was on the verge of confronting our trainers about it when war broke out again, this time with the Minbari. We were recalled, and sent behind the lines again. But it wasn’t anything like fighting the Dilgar; we were giving aid to refugee camps as often as we were destroying Minbari targets.” He turned to Neroon. “The Worker Caste outpost on Ceres 7? That was me.”
Neroon blinked. “There were more than two hundred Worker Caste who died there.”
Marcus nodded grimly, eyes anguished. “We didn’t know, Neroon. We had no idea if they were Warriors or not, but it was a weapons plant and it was on a refugee world. After the Dilgar… we didn’t know. That doesn’t make it right.”
Neroon’s eyes held his own pain, but he held Marcus’ hand securely anyway. “You didn’t know. And we were at war. I did much the same against your people, more than once.”
Marcus clutched at his hand gratefully. “Anyway, the more I saw of the Minbari, the more uncomfortable I got. They were honourable opponents, for the most part. They left the civilians alone. I kept going, though, even when I knew it was wrong. Three of my group were killed in action. And then came the Battle of the Line, and we were recalled to earth. The Psi Corp scanned all of us to see what we’d learned about the enemy after two years behind their lines. Or at least, they intended to; they couldn’t scan me. It was then that they realized that whatever personality conditioning they’d used hadn’t worked on me; the rest of my unit was under their control. They thought I was still unaware of this, so they let me go and put me in a fighter.”
Marcus shuddered. “I couldn’t let the Psi Corp keep totally devoted killers like us around. So in the chaos of the fighting, I made sure that I was the only one of beta group to come back alive.”
“You killed your own unit?” Susan yelped, shocked.
Marcus closed his eyes, and nodded. “I did. They weren’t themselves, Susan. Like Talia, they’d been completely re-written by the Corp. That doesn’t make what I did right, but perhaps you can understand how I couldn’t leave that kind of destructive power in the hands of the Corp. Afterwards, they tried to scan me again. I used a trick Talia taught me to throw them off, and it confused them enough that they locked me up instead of killing me outright. I got out, and I went after the remainder of our unit, the ones that had stayed on earth. Two of them were imperfect sleeper personalities; it was fairly obvious. I killed them. The last… he was already dying, an incurable disease. The Corp had given him up. I ended up staying with him for several weeks. He helped me plan how to take down the section of the Corp that trained us. We blew that section of the complex, with all of them in it. I’d hoped it would derail their sleeper program back completely. Evidently, it didn’t.”
Susan and Neroon were both staring at him in shock.
“You killed your entire unit, and several high-ranking members of the Psi Corp, and they never found you?” Susan wondered, shocked.
Marcus sighed. “They probably thought I was dead; I was supposed to have been imprisoned in the section of the Corp complex that blew. EarthGov may not have even known I existed, anyway; I’ve had a lot of time to think about it since it happened, and I seriously doubt any of our orders actually came from EarthForce. We were completely loyal, completely devoted, totally unquestioning trained agents for the Corp, and nobody could pick us out of a crowd because we weren’t telepaths. Can you imagine what would have happened if I hadn’t? If they’d been able to advance the sleeper program immediately, if they’d been able to find and destroy rogues before they could unite under Byron and Lyta?”
Susan shook her head. “The lesser of two evils, Marcus?”
“Is still evil,” Marcus countered. “I’m not defending myself; what I did was terrible by anyone’s standards. That I did it in the hope of saving others doesn’t change that.”
“I can’t begin to judge,” Susan admitted, slumping into her cushions. “I can’t imagine what that was like, what kind of mindset you were in when you had to make those decisions.”
Marcus shrugged. “I met Jeffrey Sinclair the night I blew the complex; he kept me from killing myself. And the longer I went on not dying, the more I felt like I had to find something to fight for that would make a difference, make up for some of the evil that I’d done. Sinclair called it a martyr complex, and I can’t really argue with that.”
Neroon’s hand tightened on his, and Marcus smiled at him gratefully. That was one complex that the Minbari had finally managed to mostly cure him of.
“None of this explains Talia,” Susan interjected. She seemed a bit overwhelmed.
Marcus smiled a bit. “She was my hallway neighbour. She must’ve been all of sixteen, just a shy little slip of a blonde thing, with the weirdest taste in music. We didn’t have anything in common, but there are only so many times you can walk into someone in their pyjamas before you strike up a bit of a friendship. After I left I never expected to see her again, but it seemed like any time I ended up on earth at Psi Corp headquarters, she was there too. It was actually Talia who first figured out why nobody could scan me; she and Jason Ironheart worked it out, and then she taught me a very experimental way to shield so that the Psi Corp couldn’t use it against me.”
“And you think she used something similar on herself?” Susan wondered.
“The Talia I knew was almost the same at sixteen as she was the last time I saw her, nearly ten years later. Unless they modified her as a child, the modifications were done long after she and Ironheart completed their shielding research. She may not have thought to protect herself against something like that, but Ironheart would have, and he would have made very sure to implant some kind of shielding to prevent it ever happening. If Talia is alive and sane, I have to believe we can get her back.”
Conflicting emotions flickered rapidly across Susan’s face.
“Susan?” Marcus asked after several minutes had passed.
“I’m… it’s a lot to take in,” Susan replied. “I don’t know what to say, Marcus.”
“Are we still friends?” Marcus asked.
“What?” Susan’s head shot up. “Of course we are! How could you even ask?”
Marcus shrugged, uncomfortable. “Everything I’ve done…”
“Isn’t your fault,” Susan interrupted. “I remember being eighteen, Marcus. They manipulated you, and they were good at it. You broke through it and made something of yourself. You’re as much a victim as Talia and your friends. If you want to blame someone for those atrocities, blame the Psi Corp.” she suddenly slammed her hand into the table. “Those bastards! I can’t believe they’ve been doing this all along, right under EarthGov’s nose!”
Marcus chuckled a bit at that, his eyes suspiciously wet. “I can’t argue with that.”
“You really think we can save her?” Susan wondered, naked hope in her voice.
Marcus shrugged. “I won’t know until we try. But I hope so. She saved me; it’s time I returned the favour. I wish I’d known sooner that she needed it.”
“You know now,” Neroon pointed out. “I’ll find us a ship.”
“Neroon?” Marcus asked, as his husband stood to go.
“Yes?” Neroon asked.
“Make it a commercial transport. We don’t want them to suspect anything.”
Neroon nodded and left, leaving Marcus and Susan on the balcony to plot together. His mala’s revelations explained much about the human’s attitude when they’d first met; knowing the facts, Neroon was doubly determined now to make sure Marcus never again felt the need to throw himself at death.
***
G’Kar’s scarred face filled the small screen on the table, and Marcus smiled to see it.
“Marcus!” the former Narn ambassador smiled. “What an unexpected surprise.”
Marcus chuckled. “I doubt anything truly surprises you, old friend.”
“Now, Marcus. Surprise is one of the greatest elements that make up the universe. But I can tell from your face this is not a social call.”
Marcus sighed. “It isn’t. I need to speak to Lyta Alexander, and you’re the only one who knows where she is.”
G’Kar frowned. “That might be difficult. The lady very rarely wishes to speak to anyone these days.”
Marcus shrugged. “I know that. I’m hoping you’ll put in a word for me. It’s about another telepath that the Corp experimented on. Talia Winters. I think we can rescue her, but I’ll need help to do it.”
G’Kar’s expression brightened considerably. “A rescue mission combined with sabotage of the Psi Corp? Well now, that is another matter entirely. Let me see what I can do.” The screen went blank and Marcus leaned back, sipping his tea while he waited for the connection to re-establish.
“Marcus?” Lyta’s voice came over the speakers although no image appeared on the screen.
“Ah, Lyta,” Marcus smiled to himself. She was still paranoid, it appeared.
“G’Kar said something about Talia?” Lyta asked.
“Yes. I understand you’re the telepath that sent the password that triggered her sleeper personality?”
“I was,” Lyta snorted. “The Corp never could leave people I cared about alone. But if you know that, then why are you calling?”
“People you cared about?” Marcus questioned instead, latching onto that. “I didn’t realize you knew her.”
“We were in school together,” Lyta answered, clearly exasperated with his delaying tactics. “I was a year behind her, in the same internship program.”
Marcus gaped at the blank screen. “You were the little redhead she had a crush on!” he realized suddenly.
“How did you?” Lyta gasped. “Wait, Marcus?” She put it together with an almost audible snap. “Wait, you were her neighbour? The one in that special forces program who felt like a boulder any time any of us got near enough to touch your mind?”
Marcus chuckled dryly. “Small universe, isn’t it?”
“I had no idea,” Lyta muttered. “If I’d known…”
“What?” Marcus asked, suddenly concerned.
“I might have killed you when you first came to Babylon 5, from what I know of that program,” Lyta admitted. “I’m sort of glad I didn’t.”
“Oh, only sort of?” Marcus smirked. “I think Neroon might have something to say about that.”
Lyta’s glare could be felt through the light years. “Don’t push it, Marcus. What’s this about a rescue?”
“You know that Talia was working on alternative shielding with Jason Ironheart?” Marcus asked.
Lyta’s scepticism came across clearly. “Marcus, I know she was, but that was thirty years ago now. It’s been twelve since I triggered her, and I didn’t sense anything of her original personality left at the time.”
“I know,” Marcus said. “I know it’s a long shot. But I owe it to her to try, and I owe it to Susan to try. Will you help?”
“Even if we get her out, how are you intending to undo what the Corp did?” Lyta asked. “That sleeper personality isn’t just going to go away.”
“Well, that’s where you’d come in. The Vorlons enhanced your abilities.”
“Yeees,” Lyta admitted slowly. “But I still don’t know how the sleeper program was implemented, Marcus. I could destroy whatever is left, if anything, by mucking around in her head.”
“What if I can get you the original notes for the program?” Marcus asked. “The process must have been refined, because the original subjects were obvious even without being triggered, but if I can give you that starting point?”
“How did you?” Lyta asked. “Never mind. I don’t want to know. If you can get me the notes and Talia, and if there’s anything there to save…”
“Thank you,” Marcus sighed in relief. “Where should we meet you?”
“I’ll meet you on earth; I can find you, don’t worry. In three weeks. If you’re not there, or if you’re in trouble, I’ll leave again and you’ll have to find me through G’Kar. I can’t stay there long.”
Marcus nodded, even though she couldn’t see him. “I understand. And Lyta? Thanks.”
“Marcus, if you can save her from what I triggered, I’ll owe you a whole lot more than thanks.”
The connection died, and Marcus leaned back in his chair. He wasn’t anywhere near as sure of his ability to pull this off as he was pretending to be, but he had to try. Maybe, just maybe, it would be enough to scratch a little more of the tarnish off of his soul.
***
“This is a terrible plan,” Susan commented four days later as they strapped themselves into a rented commercial flyer. “Just so you know.”
Marcus chuckled. “I know,” he answered. “Fara, do up your seatbelt.”
His Minbari daughter, nearly sixteen cycles old and almost ready to choose a Caste and begin her apprenticeship, stuck her tongue out at him but did as he said.
“Why is it a bad plan?” Neroon wondered.
“You seriously expect people to believe you’re tourists?” Susan snorted.
“Why not?” Fara wondered. “Dad’s been threatening to take Papa and I to earth for years, to show us where his family is from.”
“And people are supposed to believe that he just decided to do it right when I was reassigned to an earth posting?” Susan asked.
“Why not?” the girl asked.
Marcus chuckled. “You won’t win, Susan,” he informed her cheerfully. “No one ever does.”
“Too much like her fathers,” Susan grumbled.
Marcus nodded smugly, then turned to his daughter. “Now, I know we went over this already,” he began.
“More than once,” Fara grumbled, rolling her eyes. “Relax, Dad. I got it.”
Marcus frowned severely at her. “This is not a joke, young lady, nor is this a pleasure outing. What your father and I are intending to do is extremely dangerous, completely illegal, and probably very stupid. We’re taking you because it gives our cover story some credibility, and also because you’ve been bothering me to see earth for years. But while we’re gone, you will do exactly as Susan tells you, do you understand me?”
Fara nodded, serious for once. “I understand. I promise I’ll behave.”
“Good,” Marcus smiled. “And I promise we will actually see some of earth while we’re there.”
Fara grinned enthusiastically. “Can we see an elephant?”
Neroon laughed. “I think we can manage that, can’t we, Marcus?”
Marcus chuckled and nodded. His daughter had been obsessed with seeing one of the gigantic earth mammals ever since she’d first learned about them, shortly after her rescue from the trade ship she was born on. Marcus should have known he wouldn’t get out of this trip without a visit to the zoo.
“If you wish, and if there is time, we will see an elephant,” he promised. “Now get your textbooks out; the Sechs only agreed to let you come with us if you kept up your studies, and I know you won’t do anything while we’re actually there.”
“Yes, Dad,” Fara grumbled good-naturedly, pulling out a data reader and cueing up her latest class project. Marcus and Susan waited for the ship to pass the event horizon of the jumpgate, then moved up front to talk quietly with Neroon.
***
Earth traffic control was quick to give them clearance when they found out who was on board; despite his current desk job Neroon was still a high-ranking member of Minbari society, and EarthForce really didn’t want to annoy him. Soon after arriving in earth airspace they were directed to the London spaceport; Neroon stood aside to let Marcus pilot the ship down.
Marcus sighed as it settled to the ground and powered down. He wasn’t sure he was ready for this, but he had a debt to repay. He straightened up and did his best to look like a carefree tourist; Susan’s snort didn’t give him much enthusiasm about his level of success. He led them off the ship quickly, securing it behind them.
Customs had gotten tighter since the last time he’d been through, but Susan’s military ID moved them to the head of the line. Marcus could almost feel sorry for the young officer who was responsible for checking them in.
“P-purpose of visit?” he stuttered. Marcus wasn’t sure whether Susan or Neroon terrified him more.
“Vacation,” Neroon answered bluntly. “My daughter wished to see earth.”
“O-okay,” the young man stuttered again. “I’ll need to record your intended destinations, and scan your identicards.”
Marcus smiled at him, passing over the family’s cards. Susan could deal with her own. “We’ll be staying in the British Isles. My family was from here. If we decide to take a day trip anywhere else, we’ll let you know.”
The young man looked relieved, and nodded. “Welcome to earth. You can go on through.”
They did so, Marcus managing to contain his amusement until they’d passed out of sight of the customs area. Then it spilled over; Neroon scowled at him as he leaned into the wall and laughed.
“It wasn’t that funny,” Neroon growled.
“Oh, the look on his face!” Marcus crowed. “Yes, Neroon, it was. You terrified him without even doing anything!”
Fara giggled as well. “He’s right, Papa. Maybe you should be a little less intimidating while we’re here?”
Neroon sighed, and relaxed his spine so that he didn’t look quite as ready to snap out orders and have soldiers brought up on disciplinary charges. Marcus nodded his approval. It would be better for them all if they didn’t leave a trail of people behind who remembered a particularly militant Minbari moving about. And if he could convince Neroon to remove the uniform, that would be even better.
“Where are you staying?” Susan asked as she caught up with them. “I’ve been offered a suite at the military base; I think I’ll take them up on it. Save on expenses.”
“Because you have so much else to spend it on,” Marcus grinned at her. “I thought we’d head out of the city, actually. Maybe over to Ireland; the town my mother lived in had a rather good bed and breakfast. Hopefully it’s still in operation.”
“You didn’t check?” Susan asked.
“I had other things on my mind. It isn’t exactly difficult to get a hotel room in Great Britain, Susan.”
“I would’ve thought you’d want to be in the city.”
“No. It’s easier to hack into the information I need from somewhere unexpected. They watch the city communications networks too carefully. Most of the research I’ll have to do before we try anything is best done from somewhere else. But we’ll meet up with you in the mornings to do the tourist thing? I’ve always wanted to see more of the country.”
“All right,” Susan nodded. “What first?”
“How about Buckingham Palace?” Neroon suggested. “I have read the guide books you found for us, and it sounds intriguing.”
“It is that,” Marcus agreed. “Sounds good to me. Tourist part of London tomorrow, then? We’ll meet you around eight by Big Ben, and go for breakfast? There’s a rather good restaurant over that way, if it’s still there.”
“According to some of my colleagues, everything in this country is ‘still here’,” Susan quipped. “I’ll meet you then.” They bowed and separated, intent on using the afternoon to settle into their accommodations.
***
The Bed and Breakfast that served the few travellers who came to the tiny town Marcus’ mother had grown up in was much as he remembered it. Quiet and quaint, it could as easily have been the fifteenth century as the twenty-third. Fara, always an active child, immediately fell in love with the sprawling hills surrounding the place. She stopped inside only long enough to toss her bags into her room before running out the door, determined to explore.
Marcus chuckled and finished checking them in before turning to his husband. “Well, she’s gone, and we are on vacation…”
Neroon smirked and followed closely behind him as they disappeared into their own room.
Susan met them the next morning precisely at eight. Marcus had figured it would be easier for them to show up a bit early and find a visible spot to wait, since the two Minbari were fairly easy to spot amidst the mostly-human crowds. They spent a bit of time exploring outdoors near the clock tower before heading to the restaurant Marcus had chosen for breakfast.
Once they were seated, Susan grew more serious. “Have you found her?” she asked quietly.
Marcus shook his head. “Haven’t even looked,” he admitted.
“What?” Susan yelped. “Why?”
“Because there are enough people who can connect the name of Marcus Cole to the Psi Corp that hacking their files immediately after arriving on-planet is a terrible idea,” Marcus informed her shortly. “Lyta won’t be meeting us for another two weeks. We have the time to do this the right way, and I intend to take advantage of that. Or do you want this to be traced back to us, and result in several deaths?”
Susan shook her head, jaw tight. “No. I just…”
“You want her back,” Neroon finished for her. “Understandable. But we must do this intelligently, or we may not be able to accomplish it at all.”
“All right,” Susan sighed, “What’s the plan, then?”
“For today?” Marcus smiled. “We play tourist. Tomorrow, you take Fara for a girl’s day out at the shops, and Neroon and I bury ourselves in the library. After that, we’ll see, but I suspect most days we’ll be visibly touring different spots on the islands. Leave the rest to me.”
***
Marcus’ prediction of their schedule proved accurate, and for eleven days they made themselves visible in a variety of touristy ways. Several people stopped them to chat, curious about the two Minbari – especially Fara, and Marcus was suddenly reminded of how few Minbari children ever travelled off-planet like this. But it set up their cover admirably; who would suspect them of any kind of espionage or terrorism in the Americas if a wide variety of people in the UK could vouch for their whereabouts?
In the evenings, while Neroon and Fara read over information about whatever they were intending to visit the next day, Marcus would work quietly on a computer console he’d rented in town. The owners of the Bed and Breakfast smiled, glad to have such a nice polite family to stay instead of the usual rowdy backpacking college students, and didn’t ask what he was working on. If they had he’d have told them something about an architectural project; in reality he was slowly and carefully hacking his way through the Psi Corp’s computer database. It was difficult and painstaking work, but by the twelfth day of their vacation – four days before they were due to meet up with Lyta – he finally had all the information he needed.
At that point, he called in the few favours still owed him by certain underground members of earth society, and secured drugs, explosives, and passage across the Atlantic. Despite Marcus’ objections about how visible he was, Neroon insisted on coming along. Marcus didn’t put up as much of a fight as he should once his husband stated his intentions; truthfully, he’d be glad of both the company and the backup. Now they only had to wait, timing their rescue to coincide with Lyta’s arrival.
***
Susan met them on mission day around noon on the Royal Mile in Edinburgh. Marcus was even more amused by the place as an adult than he had been as a young child; it truly did look like every Scottish stereotype imaginable had thrown up on the place. Plaid abounded, among other things. Somehow it managed to keep from looking kitschy, though; maybe it was the abundance of street performers and amazing medieval architecture.
“What’s on for today?” she asked, as they bought pasties from a local vendor for lunch.
“Well,” Marcus grinned saucily, but his eyes were serious. “Neroon and I were wondering if you’d mind taking Fara for a day or two; we’ll give you money for a spa trip if you like, or whatever else she wants to see.”
Susan smirked back at him. “And where will you be?”
“General Ivanova,” Neroon rumbled, “My mala and I have not spent time alone away from Caste and Clan business since the year after our marriage. Where do you think we will be?”
Susan stared at him in shock, then laughed. “You win, Neroon. What do you say, Fara, how does a visit to the spa sound?”
“What is a spa?” Fara asked curiously, poking through jewellery on a nearby stand.
“It’s a place you go to get pampered,” Susan informed her. “They do your hair, nails, give you massages, that kind of thing. Human women – and men, but usually women – find them very relaxing.”
“It sounds interesting,” Fara said, eyes lighting up.
“Settled, then!” Marcus crowed, to the amusement of the shopkeeper who had been not-so-subtly listening in. “And bless you, Susan.”
Susan smirked. “Don’t mention it,” she answered.
“Dad?” Fara interjected, holding an intricate silver pin up. The Celtic knotwork caught the eye, and the sun sparkled off of tiny stones hidden throughout. “May I purchase this? There is nothing like it at home, and it would look very well on my robes for the ceremony this winter.”
Marcus smiled. His daughter was right; it would be a unique ornament. Sometimes it was hard for him to remember that she turned sixteen this year, and would stand in the Clan temple at midwinter to declare which Caste she wished to join. It was a step up from childhood, and as such she was allowed to begin dressing and acting as an adult in many ways, including the addition of jewellery. Delenn had indicated that she’d be sending some traditional pins of the sort the Religious Caste wore, but this would be a visible symbol of Fara’s human heritage while still being Minbari enough in style to please the traditionalists. His daughter would make a fine leader some day, whatever path she chose.
“Of course,” Marcus answered, examining the pin closely and noting the price. “You may select others, if you like; you’ll be wearing them quite often, you know.”
Fara smiled, and selected two more from the table. The shopkeeper hurried over to wrap them for her and negotiate the price with Neroon, and then they were off again.
“When are you intending to leave us girls to fend for ourselves?” Susan wondered as they drifted away.
“Early this evening,” Marcus answered. “I thought we could all have an early dinner together and then go our separate ways.”
“Sounds good,” Susan agreed, before they were interrupted again by Fara.
“Dad?” she asked again. “What is that bag with the nozzles sticking out of it, and why is it squawking?”
Marcus looked at the bagpipe seller’s shop, and shook his head. Some things were simply beyond his ability to explain.
***
In the dark hour before dawn, having left Fara and Susan behind and sufficiently convinced the B&B staff that they didn’t wish to be disturbed for any reason, Marcus and Neroon waited along Ireland’s rocky northern coast. Both had abandoned identifiable uniforms, something Neroon looked a bit uncomfortable with, and were dressed in clothes Marcus had hoped never to wear again. Form-fitting, dappled in dark shades to blend in with the shadows, full of tiny deadly tools and surprises, they were the kind of thing he’d once considered everyday wear. He shivered slightly in the cool air as a boat chugged softly onto the shore not far from their position and a light flickered once, twice, three times.
“That’s our signal,” Marcus murmured. “Stay quiet.” He led them down to meet the small craft, Neroon sticking to his shadow and keeping his hood up as Marcus had instructed him earlier.
“Sven,” Marcus greeted quietly when they reached the boat. “The stars are bright tonight.”
“But the moon is dark,” Sven didn’t smile; his harsh face didn’t look like it remembered how. But there was a perceptible lightening of his features as he looked at Marcus. “Wasn’t sure what to make of your call, after all these years. But you called, and I came.”
“I’m grateful,” Marcus acknowledged. “I couldn’t think of anyone else who was likely to have the kind of water transportation I need. I’ll try to get it back to you, but if I’m not here with it by tonight, you’ll be able to find it in the usual Mexico place.”
Sven shrugged. “Good enough. You know how to operate this?”
Marcus nodded. “I worked on the prototypes of this model when I was… a student,” he hedged. “You know I’m good for it, Sven. But we need to be going. I’ve left some firewood and supplies in a cave about three hundred metres south of here; you shouldn’t have trouble finding it.”
Sven nodded again and set off without a goodbye, dwindling into the darkness. Marcus quickly gestured Neroon aboard and set about securing and casting off the small boat, smiling as he saw the intricate instrument panel inlaid into the antique-looking craft. Nobody spotting this thing would think it capable of crossing the Atlantic at all, let alone doing so in a matter of hours, but that was precisely what it had been designed for. Marcus had crossed more than one foreign body of water in an earlier model of the same vessel.
“Here we go,” he murmured quietly, setting the domed shield as the boat lifted itself smoothly to a position skimming the top of the waves, and began its journey over the water. The inertial dampeners took a moment to kick in, but once they had Marcus relaxed and began plotting their course.
“Who was that man?” Neroon asked quietly, when he saw that his mala had mostly finished fiddling with the instrument panel.
“Sven?” Marcus asked. “No one, really. Just another lost soul I met on the rim in between wars. I helped him out of a bad situation once, and he owed me a favour. He won’t ask questions about what we’re doing, and he won’t remember having met us if he’s asked.”
Neroon shook his head, putting his hood back now that they were well away from shore and unlikely to be seen. “I am learning many things about you on this trip that I never would have guessed at. I knew you were an amazing and accomplished Ranger, but I don’t believe I ever guessed at the extent of your contacts in shadowed places.”
Marcus smiled grimly. “Yes, well, I’ve walked them most of my life. Hard not to meet people. Now, I’m going to give you a crash course in recent human history so that you’ll understand what we’re walking into tonight. You know that when Susan took control of Babylon 5, she gave sanctuary and protection to the rogue telepaths? And that even though Lyta went searching for a homeworld for them, it wasn’t until Susan left that the majority of them actually went to try to settle somewhere?”
Neroon nodded. “I did follow the news broadcasts somewhat. It is a puzzling attitude to my people; telepaths are cherished on Minbar, not feared and hunted.”
Marcus shrugged. “Humans have a few too many secrets to be comfortable with telepaths. Hopefully we can move past that. Anyway, Lyta and her crew have set up a safe homeworld for them, but the Psi Corp here on earth is still hunting them. They’re also dealing in some fairly shady things, but we’ve never been able to prove that. The Rangers are fairly sure the Psi Corp was in league with the Shadows in some way, and we’re also sure they’re still pulling strings they shouldn’t be in internal earth politics. It’s been something of a cold war for quite some time, but for the past year or so it’s been heating up. The rogue telepaths are starting to fight back instead of just hiding.
“The Psi Corp, in retaliation, has started wrangling more power out of their positions in EarthGov. It’s come to the point where an outright war, probably with intervention from Sheridan and the ISA, is almost inevitable. I’d say we’ll see the beginnings of it within the next year.”
Neroon sighed. “I’d hoped our wars were over.”
Marcus shifted to sit next to him. “So had I, love. But I doubt they ever will be. At least we got to sit out the conflict with the Drakh for the most part, and we missed all of the ambassadorial drama with that archaeological dig.”
Neroon snorted, although he wasn’t really amused. “Indeed. Well, I suppose it’s our turn again, then. What is the plan once we arrive? I thought the Psi Corp headquarters were in California, not Mexico.”
“It is. Another of my contacts has left ground transportation for us at our landing site in Mexico. I’ll get us into the US using one of my old wartime IDs; I’m afraid you’ll have to hide, but there should be smuggler’s compartments in the car we’re picking up. It will take us an hour or so after that to reach San Francisco, and then all hell is going to break loose. I’ve memorized the layout of the buildings, which wasn’t really necessary since they seem to have rebuilt it exactly as it was before I bombed the hell out of it the last time. There are three possible locations they could be holding Talia in; I’ll get into the internal computer system once we’re in the building and find out which it is. At that point it’s a matter of getting to her, slipping her the drugs I got from my contact back in Ireland, and then getting her out quietly and to our rendezvous point with Lyta. I sent the original project notes for the Sleeper program off to her last week, so with any luck she’ll be able to assess Talia’s condition on site and determine what we do then; I won’t make any certain plans for the conclusion of this adventure until I know precisely what condition Talia is in, mentally.”
Neroon absorbed that, and nodded. He too had familiarized himself with the internal layout of the headquarters buildings. “How long until we reach Mexico?”
“Just under four hours,” Marcus answered tensely. “We’ll land just after midnight Pacific Time, and this time of year dawn comes around 5:30 AM. We have a very tight time window to accomplish this, Neroon.”
“Then we had best be efficient,” Neroon replied, wrapping his husband in the thick wool of his cloak against the chill of night. “Now, relax for a while. The boat is on autopilot, and you have done all you can for right now. Rest and prepare for what is to come.”
Marcus nodded, but even though he remained quietly in Neroon’s arms for most of the remainder of their journey, relaxation was a distant memory.
To Marcus’ relief, the aircar his contact had left for them by the landing site did indeed contain a smuggler’s cabin large enough to conceal a Minbari Warrior, and the guard at the border was sleepy and bored and waved Marcus through without doing more than a cursory check of his identification. Of course, there wasn’t really anything threatening about a used com unit salesman, and Marcus slipped into the stuttering, awkward persona as easily as if he’d last worn it days rather than decades ago.
A knock on the compartment entrance brought Neroon out into the main cabin of the aircar as soon as they were well past the border, and the two men sat in tense silence for the remainder of the journey. Neroon, who had seen little of earth outside of the British Isles they’d been touring, would have liked a chance to see some of the amazing desert scenery they passed through. Minbar had long since lost its deserts, if indeed it had ever possessed them. But he understood well the urgency of the mission, and the toll it was taking on his mala. Much as he would have loved to comment on the beauty of this land with Marcus, now was not the time.
San Francisco hadn’t changed much in the intervening decades, Marcus thought as he piloted them through the very outskirts of the city and around to Psi Corp land, slightly to the north overlooking the ocean. He stopped the aircar in a small roadside turnout, pulling a camouflage net out of the trunk and throwing it over the vehicle as Neroon grabbed the two packs Marcus’ contact had left them. Once activated, the car appeared as nothing more offensive than an overgrown tree. Marcus securely pocketed the control device and took one of the packs from his mate, securing it to his back swiftly and competently.
“Quietly now,” Marcus murmured into his ear. “And whatever training they gave you on shielding your mind from telepaths, use it.” He took a deep breath, checked the complicated watch strapped to his left wrist, and shook himself briefly. When he stilled again, Neroon almost didn’t recognize him; his normally relaxed, brash, humorous husband had morphed into a tense, silent killer before his very eyes. Neroon had often compared Marcus to a great hunting cat in jest, but in this moment he truly looked like one, coiled and ready to spring.
They entered the compound by lowering themselves over the cliff face to the west of it and sidling along, a deadly drop into the ocean their constant companion, until they crossed below the level of the perimeter defence grid. Marcus led them further along the cliff face, and Neroon was about to ask what he intended when he caught sight of what must be their destination.
His guess was proved correct when Marcus swung himself lightly down and inside of the narrow, musty tunnel, stepping around crumbled rock at the entrance. Neroon followed swiftly, dropping into a fighter’s crouch as soon as he’d cleared the entrance.
“At ease,” Marcus whispered, gesturing him up. “They don’t know about these tunnels. They’re part of an old sewage system that predates the Psi Corp by at least two or three hundred years. As far as I know, no one but me ever knew they were here; I liked to go climbing along the cliff face when I was a student here. You can’t get to the entrance unless you’re free climbing, and none of the others were ever rated to climb without a harness.”
“Ah,” Neroon stood up, but remained alert. “Where to now?”
Marcus started down the tunnel. “Forward until we can’t go forward anymore, then left until we can’t go left. Then we’ll have to get through a complicated system of grates, and we’ll come out into the rooms they use for things they want to forget about. You should be able to get your bearings once we’re there, and I’ll be able to find a computer terminal.”
They suited action to words, moving quickly and quietly through the ancient tunnels. Occasional piles of crumbled rocks made Neroon wonder about the structural integrity, but he figured if they’d stood this long, they’d probably continue standing for the rest of the night. He couldn’t imagine that the tunnels were as unknown as Marcus claimed; no Warrior estate would have such a weakness in the plans without the knowledge of those in charge. But perhaps it was different here. Perhaps the Psi Corp had known, once, and had forgotten as time passed.
“Here,” Marcus said after perhaps half an hour spent creeping through the musty passages. Neroon looked at the grates in front of them and winced.
“I am not sure I can make it through this, ah’cala,” he told the human quietly.
Marcus shook his head. “I just have to find the right catch,” he muttered, running his hands over the ancient rusted ironwork with care. He seemed to find what he was looking for, as he pulled a long pin out of somewhere and proceeded to swing the grate away from the wall, wincing as it creaked softly. They both melted back into the shadows for several moments, not breathing, until they were relatively sure no one had heard.
The gap was still narrow, but Neroon shouldered through anyway. They passed through several other grates; this must once have been a service corridor for the tunnel system, although it was unlike any such system Neroon had ever seen on Minbar. Finally, Marcus paused.
“This is the last gate,” he informed Neroon softly. “It might be best if you wait here; if something goes wrong, it will be much worse for everyone concerned if you are with me.”
Neroon shook his head. “I am not about to allow you to do this alone. Even if it causes an interspecies incident. We waste time arguing.”
Marcus smiled wryly. “I’m glad,” he offered, still in the same eerily calm voice he’d been issuing instructions in all night. It was quite unlike the manic energy he typically exhibited on Ranger missions, and Neroon found himself disliking it intensely. This contained, calm, deadly man was not the Marcus Cole he had married. He only hoped he got his husband back once this mission was finished.
Together they slipped into the underbelly of Psi Corp headquarters, retracted denn’boks held ready to engage at a moment’s notice. Marcus made unerringly for a storage room four levels up, Neroon trailing in his wake nervously. This was more than the memory of adolescent ramblings, and he was forced to wonder what other missions his mala had carried out in this building, that he knew the ins and outs of its hidden places so well.
“Ha!” Marcus let out a soft cry of triumph. “She’s where I expected, the old interrogation room. It’s close to our location, but guarded heavily. We’ll have to use stun grenades to get to her.”
Neroon simply nodded, although his honour cringed at having to use such underhanded tactics. This was not a noble fight, but a rescue mission in enemy territory, and sometimes the dirtiest methods were the most effective. He quietly palmed one of the grenades from his pack – they’d been provided a supply of flash-bangs, stun-gas, and true explosive – and made ready to throw on Marcus’ command.
Marcus for his part was entirely focused on the job at hand, barely sparing a glance to make sure Neroon had armed himself appropriately before leading the way through patches of shadow further into the complex. As they left the basement levels the lighting increased and the smell of mildew dropped away; these hallways were clearly used, and used frequently. During Marcus’ training they’d housed offices for several minor functionaries; he hoped they still did. It would mean they were deserted at this time of night.
His hackles rose the closer they got to the old interrogation cells. They still hadn’t seen another living person, and it was making him extremely nervous. There should’ve been someone, a guard at least, by now. Had the Corp grown so confident in the past several years that they no longer posted them? Was something big going down elsewhere in the complex? Or, worst of all, had they been detected? Were they walking into an ambush? He strained his senses to the limit, dropping into the strange half-trance his trainers in this very building had insisted they all learn for tense infiltration operations.
They turned left; only one hallway and a security checkpoint to go, and they’d have access to their mission objective. Marcus scouted around the corner with a mirror before nodding; the hallway was clear. They moved silently, almost as one being, flowing through the shadows cast by the dim night-time lighting until they reached the door to the security checkpoint. Neroon readied the stun grenade as Marcus hooked a tiny palmtop into the electronic lock. Within moments he’d hacked through it and the door was hissing open, just enough to allow Neroon to roll the grenade through before pulling the door closed as swiftly as they’d opened it.
They waited the requisite five minutes, Marcus counting out each second as if it was a year, his pulse loud in his ears. He’d almost forgotten what this kind of mission was like; silent, terrifying, and deadly. He felt like a ghost, like the angel of death he’d sometimes been compared to on the rim worlds. Neroon’s wide eyes and flared nostrils indicated a similar response, the Minbari equivalent of adrenaline bringing a flush to his cerulean patches. Marcus almost smiled as he remembered other instances when he’d seen that reaction, but forced his attention to remain in the present as his countdown reached zero.
The door was shoved open again, both of them plastered against the walls on either side just in case the stunner hadn’t worked. But no one raced out to find them, and Marcus cautiously peered into the room.
Three bodies, slumped over computer consoles where they’d obviously been monitoring various internal security feeds. Only three. In Marcus’ time, there had never been less than seven men in this room. The concerned feeling he’d been fighting off all night rose up again, but he pushed it aside, striding confidently to one of the doors on the other side of the small room.
“Here,” he whispered. “According to the computer records, she should be here.” He hacked through the lock almost as quickly as he had the previous one, and stood to the side again as the door slid smoothly into the wall. A quiet whimper reached his ears, and he nodded to Neroon where the other man stood guarding their exit before dropping to the floor and rolling into the room, presenting a low moving target to anyone who might have a weapon trained on the door.
But there was no one, again, only a small form huddled into a far corner. Marcus winced as he took in the room; the same torturous chair he’d been strapped into twice before. The same panel of creepily disturbing instruments and vials, looking like nothing so much as a mad scientist’s lab. But the pallet in the corner where the figure huddled was new, as were the bare essential toilet facilities in the opposite corner. Had they been keeping her imprisoned in this room? For how long?
“Talia?” Marcus asked gently, crouching down not far from her small form.
A whimper answered him, and she shrunk farther back into her corner.
“Talia, love, is that you? Do you know me?” Marcus continued softly. “I’m Marcus. I used to live across from you. I’m not going to hurt you, love. I promise.” He kept his voice as gentle as possible, despite his anger. She was only wearing the thinnest of cotton shifts, and it hadn’t been cleaned in quite some time. Her hair was dirty, stringing down her back, far longer than he’d ever seen her wear it.
“Rock?” she asked, voice so small and garbled that Marcus could barely understand her.
“Yes, exactly!” he enthused quietly. “My mind’s like a rock. Please, Talia, trust me. I’m here to take you away from this.”
Her head shook violently, coming up to stare at him as she pressed back into the corner. Her eyes were wild, nothing like the sweet girl Marcus remembered. “No! The Corp is mother, the Corp is father! Family! Can’t take me from my family!”
Marcus sighed. He’d hoped it wouldn’t come to this, but he’d known it probably would. He carefully pulled the prepared cloth out of a side pocket of his bag, holding his breath as he inched closer to his quarry. She shifted nervously, but didn’t appear to have the energy to get up and make a break for it. Her hands came up to beat at him as soon as he was in range, but by then it was too late; he’d lunged, getting the cloth over her mouth and nose and allowing the chloroform to do its work. Sometimes the old tricks were the best.
It was only after he’d carefully re-stashed the cloth and cleaned his hands with a gel the Minbari favoured for getting rid of chemical stains that he felt free to take a deep breath and examine his captive. She was thin, thinner that he’d guessed from the way she’d been sitting; she couldn’t have been eating properly for months, if not years. But his biggest shock came when he reached her legs. No wonder she hadn’t been able to run away; both legs had been broken several times and left to heal crookedly! As if that wasn’t enough, her left ankle was shackled to a bolt in the floor behind her. She probably couldn’t move more than a few feet in any direction without assistance.
Marcus snarled as he set about freeing her, taking a mental inventory of their supplies. It was possible, if he took several hours to set the charges properly, that he could completely wipe this place off the face of the earth. It was strongly tempting.
A whimper stopped him. What was he thinking? There was no time for that, not if they were to get out of here before Talia’s absence was discovered. And she was the most important thing right now. Marcus completed his work quickly, pulling a dark cloak out of his pack and wrapping her securely in it before lifting her and slinking back out the door, setting her down as he replaced the locking mechanism behind him. No reason to make it more obvious than it already was that someone had broken in; maybe it would gain them a few moments.
“All quiet,” Neroon reported when he was done. “Is that her?”
Marcus nodded. “I think she’s been tortured, but the mental conditioning is definitely still present. We need to get out of here; I’ll signal Lyta as soon as we reach the tunnels again.”
Neroon wasted no time, lifting Talia even more easily than Marcus had and following his mala back along the path they’d taken to get into the building. It was still eerily silent, and Neroon couldn’t help looking about them nervously. He sensed a trap, but what kind he couldn’t quite put his finger on.
They made it safely to and through the grates, Marcus locking them down as they passed. As soon as they were safe in the tunnels again he pulled out a small homing beacon, switching it on and fiddling with it until it broadcast on a specific frequency, letting Lyta know they were on their way to rendezvous with her. With any luck she’d be waiting with a small ship at the entrance to the tunnels.
Their luck held; Lyta was hovering against the cliff face in a tiny atmospheric shuttle, the outer hull rippling with something that looked very like Vorlon technology. She pulled them all onboard and shut the hatch quickly, flicking a couple of switches before turning to look at Talia. Her face went white when she got a good look at the damage that had been done to the once-beautiful woman, but she held it together.
“We’re shielded for now, it should be safe for me to scan her here and see if this has all been for nothing,” she informed them.
Marcus nodded, waving Neroon into a seat in the cockpit to ease the cramped feel of the small bay. “Whatever you think is best. But I’m not turning her back over to them even if we can’t help her.”
Lyta pursed her lips, but nodded and got down to work. Marcus paced tensely as much as he could in the confined space, waiting; there was nothing he could do but stare at the two women sitting perfectly still on the floor of the shuttle and pray. He hoped it would be enough.
Perhaps half an hour later, when Neroon had begun to make quiet comments about he amount of time they could spend concealed against the cliff before dawn came and they’d have real trouble smuggling themselves back out of the city and the country, Lyta stirred.
“Bastards,” she spat venomously. Her eyes had gone pitch black, a phenomenon Marcus well remembered from the last days of the Shadow war.
“Can you heal her?” Marcus asked sharply, trying to bring her back to the present.
“The mind of a telepath isn’t like a jigsaw puzzle, Marcus. I can’t just go in, put the pieces back the way they were, and give you Talia back. The Talia Winters who served aboard Babylon 5 twelve years ago is dead. But the personality they implanted wasn’t complete; they focused so much on loyalty to the Corp that they left out some crucial elements of humanity. Her own mind started regenerating around the conditioning, and that’s when they locked her in the interrogation room and started… dissecting her brain, for want of a better descriptor. They went right through as indelicately as they could, trying to figure out where the faults in the Sleeper programming were.”
“And?” Marcus asked when she’d fallen silent for some moments.
“You were right,” Lyta sighed. “You were right. Jason Ironheart put failsafe shields in place on the deepest part of her mind. Her… soul, for lack of a better way to describe it to a mundane, is intact. What makes her Talia. But all of her life experience, all of her memories, all of that… it’s gone, Marcus. There’s no way to get it back.”
“But you can get Talia back, without the Sleeper? She can start over?”
Lyta dropped her head into her hands and rubbed viciously at her temples. “I already did. The Sleeper was practically gone as it was; all that was left was obsessive repetition of the Corp mottos. I wiped it out completely, and put her mind back in some kind of order. When she wakes up, she’ll be like a child; she won’t know who she is, or where she is, or even what she is. She needs to go somewhere far away from here, Marcus. Somewhere quiet, and peaceful, and very isolated. She’s never going to be even a P5 telepath again. Her mind’s burned out. But she will still be receptive to other people, on some level, and she won’t be able to shield for a long time.”
“We will take her to Minbar,” Neroon interjected from the cockpit. “There are Religious enclaves there for meditation and the healing of the soul-sick; they will help her if anyone can. And perhaps alien emotions and thoughts won’t disturb her as much as human ones would.”
Lyta nodded. “That… may be the best plan. God, I don’t know what to tell Susan. Maybe it’s fortunate I won’t have to make that decision.”
“What do you mean?” Marcus asked. “Aren’t you coming back to Britain with us?”
“That was the plan,” Lyta shrugged. “Plans change. I saw it in her mind, what little was left of it; all of the bigwigs have been brought in to check out the final moments of the Sleeper, so they can fully observe what happens when one deconstructs. You didn’t meet any guards because they were all up top, waiting for their arrival. I have enough time to get you back to your car and download all the information the Healers will need to care for Talia, and then I’m coming right back here.”
Marcus, who had seen more than his fair share of suicide missions, could only nod resignedly. “Just make sure you get them all, Lyta. For all our sakes.”
Lyta smiled grimly. “Oh, I will. The Vorlons made me a Doomsday Weapon, remember? Well, I think it’s about time I activated it. Maybe once these bastards are gone, telepaths can finally be free.”
“I’ve no doubt,” Marcus said quietly, watching her closely as she got up and piloted them the short distance to their waiting aircar. Neroon said nothing; he too knew the value of a suicide mission in circumstances such as the telepaths now found themselves in.
Lyta set her shuttle down easily, but didn’t drop the ramp. Instead she put her hand on a panel that was clearly Vorlon in design, stiffening as it began to glow. After a few moments the glow faded, and a data crystal rose out of the center of the console. Lyta detached it and handed it to him.
“I’ve put everything I know about the Sleeper program and what they did to Talia on there, and what I did to try and fix it. I recommend you get a Minbari telepath to go over my work in a few weeks, to make sure she’s healing correctly. Get her off planet quickly and quietly, Marcus. Six levels of hell are going to rain down here shortly, and she can’t be exposed to that. Good luck.”
Marcus nodded, then pulled Lyta into an unexpected hug. “You’ll be remembered, Lyta Alexander,” he murmured sadly as he let her go. “I hope you get the bastards. For Talia.”
Lyta smiled grimly. “For Talia. And Ironheart, and you, and Byron, and everyone they’ve ever tortured. I’ll get them all this time, Marcus. I promise.”
She hit the door release, and the ramp extended from her strange hybrid ship. Neroon lifted Talia easily and they strode down the ramp, turning at the bottom to watch Lyta raise a hand in farewell and lift off, the ship vanishing before their eyes as it moved back the way they’d come.
“A brave woman,” Neroon remarked quietly.
“And a desperate one,” Marcus agreed, turning to his husband and finally releasing the deadly tension that he’d been carrying for the entire night. “Let’s go home.”
Neroon could think of nothing he’d like better.
***
As it turned out, Lyta did them one last favour. When the Vorlons created a Doomsday Weapon, they didn’t do so by half measures. The entire Psi Corp headquarters was incinerated, and the aftershocks caused earthquakes up and down the coast that had emergency services all over the planet scrambling to offer aid. Transport on and off world was complicated when the California spaceport had to be closed temporarily, and the resulting mess of transfer paperwork made it easy to leave the planet on a privately rented ship with one more passenger. None of the overworked customs officials had time to spare a thought to the silent, pale woman in the wheelchair. Especially not when presented with papers – obtained from one of Marcus’ many contacts – identifying the woman pushing her as her cousin, General Ivanova, and listing her home address as San Francisco. She was hardly the only invalid trying to escape the chaos in the United States, and if she had a powerful relative to help her get off planet, well, all it was worth was a snarky comment or two in the break room, quickly forgotten in the rush of far less quiet and polite passengers.
The final death toll from California was lower than anyone had any right to expect, although the cost in terms of minor injuries and property damage was high. Only five hundred people were confirmed dead in the weeks that followed, more than four hundred of them Psi Corp officials and government representatives who had been in headquarters when it blew. Marcus, who knew the Corp all too well, mentally added at least a hundred more unknown deaths, people like his old beta squadron who were totally unregistered with any authority.
***
“Thank you,” Susan said to him finally as they entered a holding pattern around Minbar, awaiting their turn to land. It was the first time she’d spoken to him since he and Neroon had come for her and Fara as the news reports broke of what they were calling the most successful terrorist attack since the nuclear attacks that had destroyed Las Vegas in the previous century.
“For what?” Marcus asked, looking up from trying to shove everything he owned back into his duffel. Thirty years in military and quasi-military organizations, and he still hated packing.
“Bringing her back to me. Believing, when no one else did, that she was alive and could be saved.”
Marcus sighed and sat down on his bed, gesturing Susan into the room’s lone chair. “I wish we’d gone earlier. Maybe… maybe there’d have been something of Talia left, if we had.”
Susan shook her head viciously. “And maybe if we’d gone earlier, the Sleeper would’ve been too strong to overcome, and we’d all be dead.”
Marcus had to acknowledge the point. “What will you do now?” he asked, changing the subject to one less fraught with what-ifs and regrets.
“I don’t know,” Susan admitted. “I want to stay near her, but I don’t know if that would be good for either of us. I mean, she doesn’t even remember my name, Marcus! I don’t want to go back to earth; they’re reorganizing all of the telepaths right now, trying to reintegrate them, and my feelings on the subject are well known. If I thought I was in a bad political situation before, it’s nothing to what I’ll face now. I’ll never be given another command; they’ll have me paper pushing until they can reasonably retire me.”
“I’ve always found it rewarding to try seeing my problems from a different direction,” Marcus offered. “Try taking a left turn and looking at the situation from over there.”
“What?” Susan snapped.
“Talia is going to be on Minbar. You want to be near her, but you know EarthGov won’t station you anywhere in the area, and you don’t want to retire and be underfoot and maybe damage her healing process. So what else can you do?”
Susan shrugged. “I don’t know yet. But I’ll think of something. Do you think the Rangers would take me?”
Marcus snorted. “My dear Susan. I think the Rangers would snap you up in a heartbeat if you volunteered. But you should talk to John and Delenn about that; I’m more an instructor than anything these days.”
“I thought you’d be succeeding them as head of the Rangers one day,” Susan confided. “It seemed like Delenn was training you for that. And we all know John won’t… won’t be around much longer.”
“Another good reason to come to Minbar!” Marcus enthused. “It’ll be just like old times! G’Kar’s even accepted a diplomatic position there, starting next month. Londo won’t be there, of course, or Michael or Stephen, and the insanity isn’t anything like what we used to deal with on Babylon 5, but it’s good work, Susan.” He paused a moment. “And I was never going to be Ranger One. I don’t want that position. I made decisions about who lived and died for too many years when I was younger; I don’t want to do it again now. Delenn and John know that. I don’t know what will happen when John leaves us. But hopefully we have many years yet before that happens.”
“Hopefully,” Susan agreed. “Tell me about Ranger training, then. What would I be getting myself into?”
Marcus grinned, and launched into several anecdotes from his training days that he thought would amuse her. She laughed along with him, but both of them carried a bit of darkness in their eyes. It would be a long time before the taint of this mission wore off.
***
Eight months later Marcus stood beside his daughter while she declared her calling to the Warrior Caste before her family and Clan. His smile was undimmed by any shadow as he gazed out over the crowd. The Clan was gathered, of course, but in a secluded corner off to the side dark hair spilled over the shoulder of a human woman in Ranger garb as she leaned down to explain the ceremony to her companion, a smiling blonde in a wheelchair.
Talia Winters might never walk again, or remember her first life and all she’d accomplished, but that hardly seemed to matter in the face of her happiness on Minbar. She’d begun painting as a way to regain her fine motor control, and already her works were earning acclaim in the highest circles on Minbar for their simple, almost childlike clarity of thought and emotion. And where the budding artist went, her Ranger shadow went as well.
Marcus smiled at them, and at John and Delenn who were both occupied keeping their young son entertained as the ceremonies dragged on. At Lennier and Helacann, and Michael Garibaldi and the woman from his past who had sought him out after the death of her husband. At Stephen, who seemed quite content with his latest relationship if the looks they were trading was any indication. Finally he looked back to his daughter, standing proud as she took her vows before the Clan Elders. Neroon’s dark gaze met his over her head, and Marcus’ smile grew softer for a moment.
They might have called it rescuing Talia, but she’d rescued them as well. Susan from a life she didn’t want to lead, and Marcus from the ghosts of his past he’d never been able to lay to rest. They were all of them free now.