"Homecoming" Series
Set during Season One of Crusade, but there's no spoilers (I think - hadn't seen a single episode yet at time of writing) since it's focused on a different crew than the group on Crusade. The story takes place in an alternate universe, which branched from the canon version during "Phoenix Rising", but is mostly set in a place I'm sure 95% of the B5 loving public out there would love to see. Read on for details. :)
All things and people invented by jms belong to him. He can have them back whenever he wants (but why the great maker would be reading my sad little offerings, I have no idea). Original characters and settings are my own, if you want to use them, just ask nice and I'll say yes. :) h_raelynn@hotmail.com to comment!
[indicates thoughts]
*emphasis*
PG - 13 . . . lay the threads and begin to weave. . .
~~~~
There was a brief pause, then Ivanova commented, "It would seem we know about each other, Mr. Byron. It's a start. A few questions, if I may ask?"
"Of course."
"The number of horses you've brought, and the supplies. You knew you were meeting someone. Several dozen someones. How?"
He sat down on a log across from her before replying. "There are 53 of our four-legged friends. Not the number needed, but all we could spare in the area on short notice."
Carlson was one of the few who hadn't suddenly clued in as to *where* they were. He wasn't close enough to anyone else to catch the sudden swarming of whispers between the shocked crew, and he obviously wasn't one of those who recognised who - or more precisely, *what* - Byron was. Irritated, he said, "Our sensors didn't detect any signs of a town or city nearby as we were coming down. Unless those are extremely fast horses to get here from out of sensor range in less than day, you've got methods of hiding buildings from detection."
"Yes to the latter, but your sensors were correct. The closest buildings are two months away by easy walking. Riding on horseback is faster, of course, it only took us just over a week to travel along the passes between these mountain ranges. As for the numbers, those of you who cannot walk back can either ride or be carried. We needed this many - more, even, but more were simply not available - horses to carry the supplies needed. There are many more of your soldiers who are scattered and are now coming to this place, am I correct in assuming that? Most should arrive within a few days, I assume as well. I hope my own people - we eight are not the only ones who came to greet you - will meet with the furthest ones and escort them to our destination so that the main number will not be overly delayed."
"How many more," Ivanova asked suddenly. "And who?"
"Twenty set out from the city, and I doubt you would have ever met any of them, though I give you my word that they are all to be trusted." Byron's voice sounded reassurance that was not readily accepted.
Carlson resumed the initiative for questioning. "So HOW did you know where we would be, and when? And where do you plan to lead us? I've got a ship to get back to for repairs."
"He's quite possessive of your ship, Captain, is that common among earthforce?" Byron gave her a polite smile as he asked, then he was somber again. "I am aware that a damaged Sophocles is spewing radiation above our heads, yes. Your arrival was rather hard to miss. There are seven reasons for knowing your presence. The first being numerous Centauri among our numbers, some of which are Seers. Some of whom had visions of your safe visit and departure. The other six reasons were construction workers, once stationed on a place known as Babylon Four. They have provided information gathered during the 'time flashes' experienced by the crew there - and since you ARE actually here, now, we must believe it as truthful. I believe you've heard of those kind of events, Captain?"
She nodded, not saying that she had actually been there, that she had experienced a few of them for herself. But even so, she didn't know what her eventual fate would be. There had not been anything in them that could be considered a reliable indication as to what the future held for her.
Byron continued, "They also had 'visions' of this colony, of you. Two were latents. The other four were permitted to come, then to remain for their construction knowledge and skills. We do allow mundanes to live among us, mostly because they are family to some who belong. But *none* of your crew will be permitted to remain any longer than they have to. Know that - you all will be leaving, and not a moment past what is required to safely repair your ship."
Carlson was not satisfied. "This . . . 'Colony' seems to be very fussy about security precautions and who can colonise. Why?"
Byron regarded him levelly for a few seconds, then Carlson got annoyed suddenly and spouted, "That didn't answer the question, Mister. What 'reasons' are you . . . talking . . ." he paused as he saw the strange looks some of the others were giving him, then his eyes widened as he realised Byron's mouth hadn't moved. "Did . . . any of you hear him?"
Ivanova sighed and decided to break the news. "Welcome to Sanctuary, Commander. A place formerly perceived as idle rumor and mere fantasy . . . to be a little more precise, the Telepath Homeworld."
Carlson went wide-eyed, his pupils darting about at the locals scattered around the camp, and rapidly turned decidedly grey in colour. Byron turned and walked away, apparently to check the horses again or help the others continue to unload; leaving a scrawny, tallish brown-haired boy of about 14 years to speak. Carlson's visibly trembling legs buckled under him and he sat down with a 'thunk' on the log behind him. He didn't really notice much for several minutes after that point.
[He took that well, considering,] Ivanova thought to herself.
The boy began to explain the circumstances more fully. "I'm called Jesse. Hello! The Interference Vortex was what y'first came through, it protects this whole system, which is how we can live here and be safe. It's that tunnel thing that y'were yanked into, t'get int'orbit. We rode out here from The Wall, that's the name of the city where we're going. I live there, too, with my family. It has the space t'keep a thousand new arrivals for the time it'll take t’repair your ship - called the Sophocles? Ok. Plus it's the closest settlement t'us, anyway. The shuttles have already been directed there by the Governor, who's also told everyone around that they should help all of your crew t'gather there. She says almost everyone survived, if they made it through the battle y'seem t'have had. Drakh are said t'fight dirty. A few pods haven't come down yet. And some seem t'have gone missing, but most made landings in safe zones. The pods that splashed down int'the ocean have boats searching for 'em. Some of you are quite scattered, but about a third are within a month's travel from The Wall. Another third are clustered around you, she said. It'll take us longer t'get there, however, since there's injured among you and not enough horses t'carry everyone. We have blankets, lots of 'em, and spare clothes too, if y'don't have enough t'keep warm with. Mountain nights can be really cold, 'specially during th'eclipse. Tomorrow, while we're waiting for more t'come, me and th'others will begin t'teach you which foods here won't poison you. Your scanners won't keep working for much longer - th'environment here seems t'fry wires and circuits pretty quick, and there's too much variety for 'em not t'make mistakes anyway. It's not a good idea t'have EM fields near a settlement, anyway, 'cause of th'alts. Foraging skills will be necessary for the trip, t'avoid getting too hungry - there'll be a lot of you, and only a few of us, so you have t'learn. The ration packs you brought won't last very long, and hunting alone won't keep y'all fed. Tomorrow is going t'be a very busy day, so you should sleep while you can."
That was a lot to digest all at once, but the Captain got another question in anyway. "Won't the horses wander off if you don't tie them?"
"No. They like us. We have salt." The boy grinned, and Ivanova was suddenly reminded of her brother at the same age. For some reason, the similarity didn't bother her.
~~~~
Personal log. Private Rianna Brandan recording. Medical log? Whatever. End of second (first full) day here. My boss says count the first evning as a day even thoh there was only a few ours in it. Recording hah. Try writing this out with my hands! On PAPER!!! Ugh! Well at least I can edit it when we get back to the ship. The ship. I miss her already. I just cant get used to the idea of looking up and seeing nothing. No ceiling no upper deck no dome fifty metres up. Just sky. Blue! Its as bad as earth! Well theres a bit of red sky at the edges at least from the sun going down. And the gravity is less than earths (82% according to a group that kept dropping things and timing the rate of fall) so thats good. The air is too thin however. But it is really pretty here anyway. I think even God has noticed and shes always seemed the buttoned up proper bluejacket Captain to me. To everyone. Its strange being - well a refugee. I still cant beleve WHOSE doorway we landed on. A whole planet full of telepaths! Moon. Whatever. This place is bigger than earth or proxima is even if it is a moon. I like the locals I have to admit to that. That Byron guy is so good looking! Marcie thinks Im nuts. But she does think his accent is nice. That local kid is cute too. I am not the youngest person any more because of him. There are 142 of us here now the 8 locals not included. Ive helped set three broken legs and treated one man who was blinded by a computer station that blew. Hes got a local salve on his face and the rest of his burns. They seem to be already working after just 24 (25? the day seems too long here) hours. One days worth. Theres six broken arms the Captains included and nine mild food poisonings already so far. Lots of mild and modorite sunburns from ship-pale skin getting scorched from hours in the light and about a million cuts, bumps, bruises. At least nobody here seems to have soaked up enough radiation from the ship to get sick. My boss has ordered anyone whose pod was radiated to take regen. I hate regen. It leaves such a bad taste in the back of my throat. But we will run out in a few days anyway. Ha ha ha ha. :) Or is that bad, having no regen? There was always lots of drugs I never thought about not having them. Not since I was little and there was the wars. Im not short on work but the condishons are so fraggin primative! How can the locals STAND it here? Its too quiet! To say nothing about the total lack of proper medicine! They brought lots of stuff they say is medicine but its jars of goo and plants and powders. What good are plants? Medicine is supposed to come from nice clean vats and labs. I said that to the lady who seems to know the most medical things here and she glared at me and called me a spoiled brat. I wanted to smack her but the Captain gave all of us orders to not hurt anyone. On the other hand Micahs face and lots of the other injuries like the burns and gashes and things are healing so fast its almost as fast as real stuff would be. That impressed my boss. And the local lady knows how to do triage really good she just snapped the bones back into place CRUNCH and set them. The senior doc says they can get Micahs eyes working again once we get back to the Sophocles easy enough and is now hoping some of the very badly hurt crew wont die like she was worried. So I guess Ive got learning to do here too. Goody! Here I thought Id be on leave. Only problem with that I cant see a shower stall anywhere and Im starting to smell. No sonics though some others say people used to shower in water. Sounds like a big waste but there is lots of water in the lake (BIG! Bigger than Dome Five! Big! And goes so far you cant see the far corners or the bottom and it does not smell like water it smells of nothing but thats how expensive water smells for the rich people who filter theirs by evaporation not filters) so I dunno. At least I had a uniform on when we were attacked. Some of the off-duty people who had been sleeping or in medlab had undies on, and just that. Or less! (note: must ask out that redhaired man with the tattooed butt. At least an 8 on the cute scale.) Most everyone had time to get clothes on though because the battle lasted so long but a few had to arrive in a medical gown. Thank goodness the locals brought lots of spare clothes! They forgot to bring spare shoes though. I dont know how we are going to wash the clothes theres no thermal units here. Not even those little sonic cubbies! I cant remember how anyone washed stuff before sonics... I think Im going to get a lesson I dont want to learn. There must be some way. I mean - the locals look clean and healthy same as their clothes. We are not supposd to use anything powered if we can avoid it. Which means we cant do ANYTHING but the other medical staff are keeping the scanners out that still work some have stopped working and they cant get fixed but people are trying to fix them anyway. The communicators are the only things exempt from not being used since we need to talk to all the scattered groups and move them down into this valley. Get them to our location. Morale is pretty low but its picking up a little as more crewmembers arrive safely. The ship was really badly beat up. I ___ Ive never been with dead people before. I mean - there was lots of cadavers at med school but I never KNEW any of them. Yesterday I was walking over some right past them. I mean I actually stepped on Terris hand before I realized it was her. Or had been her. At least her eyes were closed. I dont think I could have managed to keep the last of my lunch inside if her eyes had been looking at me. But the rest of the crew they have had more training than I have. I hated being the youngest but at least Im not anymore. The rest of the crew are handling everything ok. Byron and Ivanova seem to be getting along and here I thought she hated telepaths! I guess shes mellowed (if such a things possable) since the telepath war because everyone back on the ship would tell scary stories about her and what she did to telepaths. I know she had some friend who was a teep back when she was fighting the Shadow and then the Civil War because the officers have heard her mention him/her sometimes and I heard them talking a few weeks ago. She was convinced her friend was still alive and that theyd meet one day. But she never used a name and wasnt about to speak on it publicly. And Im not stupid enough to have asked her my self. Heck maybe the friend is here someplace. The Commander is in such a snit! He hates telepaths. I think the only reason the Captain let Carlson serve was because he was as hateful of Psi Cops was she was. Some family thing for both. But some people say that before the teep war (during too if the rumors are right) she was helping some of the escapees reach Minbar and other safe places. But I should knew better than to listen to rumors. Im getting off topic. Carlson is in such a foul mood to be around teeps. Im going to guess he didn't know who/what Gray was. Three months on board and nobody told him? I knew who Gray was even though he didnt have gloves. He was the only military telepath to have stayed on his ship once the teep war was all over all the others were dead or left it was just him who stayed so that was neat to find out. He was nice but I didnt really know him. Great pilot everyone said before and they are all talking about him now because of where we are. Marcie says Commander Stelz was a lot nicer but she hadnt gotten off maternity leave yet when we started this rim assignment. I never met her because I was assigned when Carlson was and I knew from the shuttle ride to the ship that he was a complete prick. Note to self don't write that in log when back on ship and making this official. But he IS a prick we all think so. I think Gray would have been happy to be here fitting in and all - well no maybe not. If theres no power theres no starfuries and he lived to fly everyone says that he loved it and even flew more than he had to. He died flying. We saw his thunderbolt go. The Captain did NOT look happy. Oh well. Just when shed been getting along with him finally after all those years everyone says but they dont say it when the Captain is close enough to hear them talking everyone says she seemed to really hate him at first and ordered him spaced but since she wasnt allowed to actually kill him she told him to report to the C.A.G. - the person in charge of all the starfuries and fighter pilots - and that he was not supposed to be on the ship a second longer than he had to be from then on until he was dead. The others tell me that she didnt want him near her at all except when he was really really needed because of a First Contact. And then he saved the ship but nobodies telling me about that because its classified BUT everyone who was there spits when they hear the word Vorlons. So I dunno. None of the crew was ever much for Carlson's nonstop holier-than-thou attitude so we are kindof ignoring him whenever we can. The locals are nicer than he is. Even the lady who knows triage. Speaking of nicer the three girl teeps are getting plenty of looks theyre quite pretty and friendly even if they dont say much and that pale lady has her face and hands all marked up. There was no way to heal scars when they first got here one man said. Good luck to them if they want to warm their beds I know from experiance that this bunch is rather open and easy. Some are too easy. But the girls seem to be the discrimnating type just like the guy telepaths are. I should know Ive already asked two of them. I wanted to know if the rumors about having sex with telepaths are true and how all the sensations are fed back to you like a mirror. No luck there they aint interested in any fun stuff. I just wish I could find the nerve to ask the leader because hes very good looking and polite and not too old. I dont think I will though because I was looking at him from a distance and the local boy (James? Jody?) said kindof sharply that he should be a father in a little while and that if I wanted to make Byron happy I should pray for the babys safety. I guess I was thinking too loudly. But its more likely my face was giving it away because I cant keep a poker face even if I try. I always lose money at the games except strip poker then I can always steal it back from whoever when its time to start my next shift the next morning. I never lose in strip poker because I know Im prettier than lots of the old crew. Except Newton but everyone hates her and she doesnt play games. Theres a whole tent city here already. A small city and its full of these great big tree plants but its still a city. I didnt have to help set up instead I spent the day fixing up everyones injuries. Most of the crew spent the day learning how to set snares and identify plants (there was 5 food poisonings from just one plant JOY) and catch and cleanly butcher (EEW!) a few of the local animals. That local kid (I think hes called Jesse) is a crack shot with his bow and arrows. Hes gotten every kill in one shot right into the skull I saw him and everyone looked very impressed they think he could make a living as an assassin but he looked upset that they said so. The teeps say its cruel to let them suffer even a little or to hunt for any reason other than needing meat. I think they can feel it when an animal is in pain. They are telepaths after all. They use every part they can thats for sure. Well the fish guts and skins they buried. I still dont believe how they caught the fish with their bare hands. That must have been some trick teeps have. The Captain took her frustrations out on a kindof small deer thingy and two big capybara-like creatures and eight birds. It was freaky seeing her grin like that all covered in fresh blood. But I have to admit dispite such a horrific oragin for supper it was the best roast Ive ever tasted. And we knew that it was real meat not soy but that meant some people would not eat it so they ate plants and ration packs. The teeps are saving some of the feathers for I dont know what and the hides theyre saving for fur and leather. Gross. But I guess I shouldnt complain my boss says everyone has their own way. They are also preserving as much meat as they can taking it off the bones cutting off the tendons and other scraps then cutting it into thin strips and drying it over the fires on lots of thin poles they cut. Saving for the trip one said. I just saw another pod coming down. Somewhere east of us I think. Most of the pods should have landed that one must have been among the last. Ill find out in the morning if I know anyone in it. Theyre going to be in for a shock when they hear the news! At least Im not the only one who has to write down her log. The locals brought 5 dozen of these homemade notebooks with them and there all being used already. Theres lots of others who will just have to remember stuff. I promised Marcie who got here today that Id let her use mine as long as she starts at the back. I get the front. Jan asked if Id make notes on the stuff she wants recorded but she knows shed snoop anyway so she didnt ask to share as well. As long as she doesnt make comments on how bad I spell its ok. Right now I have to go squat over a trench and use some leaves. Ugh!
~~~~
Day three, sunset. Same setting in Act two as in Act one, and the dramatis personae hasnt changed yet. Well theres more extras now. Theres now a total of 374 of us. And the 8 locals. Captain Gods in a small 'mood'. She only snared one small (a runt no bigger than a rabbit) rodent personally but she helped cut up what everyone else caught and shes not in as much pain from her arm so shes better on average anyway. Since theres so many of us everyones got at least one friend they know is safe. The Ellisons hadnt stopped hugging and kissing yet when they went off and they were reunited almost 4 hours ago. Come to think of it all of the couples have disappeared off into the tents. I can hear some of them. Dont they know its not soundproof? Yeesh. I am at least quiet when I have to be. I havent been heard yet but Paul was loud this morning I had to cover his mouth to make him shut up before we got caught. Nothing like not knowing if a partner is dead or alive to do wonders for your relationship when you get reunited. I sure felt better after being with a few of the guys. Actually Marcie is making notes on said subject. She says its for her thesis. Shes got more writing in the back than I have in the front already and her writing is tiny and neat not like mine. She even has grammar in it. Ive seen her chatting with some of the locals on the birds and the bees topic trying to understand what its like to have a society of telepaths and still deal with private matters like sex. Its been a long time since Ive seen grown men blush but I doubt Marcie even noticed that part. She was focused and she doesnt notice anything else when she gets focused. They were seriously repressed until the telepath war was over I can remember how UGLY the uniforms used to be. And arranged marriages/forced breeding programs? Thats no fun at all. Marcie was saying some people (well the human ones anyway) would never get past the emotional boundaries theyd set up to survive and that we all had better be careful about not being too aggressive towards any of the locals just in case. And then she glared at me and told me to stick to the crew until we know for sure whos where with what because interfering with a small closed social system would hurt the system and she would not shut up for half an hour. But she also said that often the pendulum swings the other way at least for some of them and so a few might be all for lots-o-love. Sort of making up for lost time. I hope I meet some of those! The Captain made an announcement a few minutes ago. Shes been talking with Carlson and Byron for most of the afternoon. Leadership things. They said that they were going to leave two of the telepaths - she said they were both just latents - and a dozen of us soldiers plus Carlson in the camp. Waiting for the stragglers that continue to radio in new positions. There are at least 68 of them left out there. All are within a few days distance but some pods have injured so its slow for them. More are scattered along the route we will go to civilization with other groups heading down into the valleys that lead to the passes. Byron said several of his people were left at key points where they would assist in gathering the groups for meeting us on the route for easy pickup. Almost 200 have already arrived at wherever we are heading to. I have no idea how they knew that we cant hopscotch a message that far can we? Must ask someone who knows. The wall whatever that is. A city of some kind at the edge of the mountain range we fell in. Some of those others were injured but none too seriously so far and several hundred more are said to be moving across the plains for the city. The pods landed in two elongated fuzzy teardrop shapes with one cluster centered miles and miles away to the east on the other side of the city and the other centered right here. The top of the drops are pointing to each other and some pods went down in some ocean someplace and some landed lord knows where. I need to get some sleep but I promised someone to visit him tonight so Ill be sleeping in half an hour anyway. The main camp breaks in the morning and Im not one of the ones staying. Yee-haa. At least theres no crickets yelling like in the vids. No bugs at all that I can see anyway. Theres a whole lot of tiny birds that do the pollinating here instead Ive seen swarms of the things. Smaller than hummingbirds. But I dont trust those horse animals. Anything living which is that big should be tied up or not let out of a zoo. 40 of the horses are coming with us. Anyone whose hurt has to ride.
~~~~
"I - will - never - get - on - one - of - these - beasts - again!" Ivanova hissed through tightly gritted teeth as she tried to stand up normally, glad the fading light and a handy group of thickly clustered trees hid her pain and exhaustion from prying eyes.
"Would you like a hand?" Byron's voice came from behind and above. He had been circling around the camp's perimeter, checking for stragglers, and had noticed her extreme discomfort.
She half-turned to glare up at him as he watched from his own horse. "Bite me," came the low growl.
"No, I think not. But we do have a salve we developed for sore muscles that should work. Is it safe to assume you'd rather have a non-male apply it to your . . . affected areas?"
"Touch me and die. Get a girl," Ivanova snarled.
Byron clicked his tongue at his mount and rode to a different part of the new night-camp they were in the middle of setting up. He didn't even need to hold onto the reins to steer, a fact that made Ivanova glare at her own horse (which had snorted at her and walked off several minutes before).
"He does that way too easily," she muttered to herself. "Not even a damned saddle in the whole -OW!" [Gads, woman, you can fight Drazi, Centauri, Shadows, Vorlons, Drakh, your own world, but one day riding some stupid animal and you're ready to roll over and die. Oh, do I want to sit down? Yes . . . if I can just manage to find something soft to sit on before I fall over.] It wasn't just the riding, she knew. She still hadn't recovered from her blood loss; never mind the emotional shock from the attack. Added to it all was the extra strain of keeping her mental shielding as thick and as tight as possible over the past 4 nights and days without pause. She had not felt a scan yet, but she knew telepaths could overhear loose thoughts even without scanning. And Ivanova did NOT want that to happen.
She quickly found an arm to lean on, looked up to see it's owner, and recognised the extra-skittish blonde woman that the others said had been trying to meet with her for the past few days. The local woman had the only face in the entire group with more scars than her own. "Hi," she said, but the blonde didn't answer except for a sympathetic smile and to hold her lantern out to light the way better. [Quiet, aren't you. I thought you wanted to chat with me], she thought as they made their way to a handy boulder with as much dignity as she could muster. "Thanks. That's the salve?" She nodded towards a sealed clay jar in the woman's other hand.
The blonde nodded, gave the jar to Ivanova, and paused to loosen the ties that held the top of the shirt closed. Ivanova quickly tried to stop her with "Look, lady, I'm sore here and not really inter - oh, wow. When - when did that happen?" Her eyes traced the scars on the woman's neck. "Why would someone slit your throat?"
The woman touched her temple then Ivanova's. She wanted to say it telepathically.
Ivanova bit her lip nervously. "Uh, how 'bout you write it down?" [I am not going to let anyone into my brain. Not before, not now, not ever. I can't let them know. Gads, that would get ugly afterwards, if my crew ever found out!]
If the blonde had heard Ivanova, she gave no indication. She pointed at the rock and lightly pressed on Ivanova's shoulder, then walked off.
Ivanova waited with pained calm, perched gingerly on the edge of the boulder with just the lamp for company. The blonde returned in a few moments with a borrowed notebook in her hands, as well as a rolled tent and several blankets slung over her shoulder. She wrote in the book as she walked, then handed it to the Captain. One of the blankets she placed on the rock, letting Ivanova lean back in relief as she examined the pages. There was a name - Ruth; a Psi Corps symbol; a sketch of a dripping knife; the stylised ISN logo; and a stick drawing of someone lying while facing down and out under two pointed lines. Ivanova puzzled it out while the blonde pushed a patch of ground clear of underbrush and strung up the tent, a piece of locally-brought canvas that hung down like an inverted 'V' over a rope, sheltering a few dozen square feet. Ivanova didn't really want to commandeer one for her private use again, but she sure as hell didn't feel like sharing one of the few that were available. Byron had already explained, with some embarrassment, that there were far more people in the group than he expected to be guiding back, and that shortages would be constant. They had already left several tents and crates of medical supplies behind with Carlson's group, but he had reassured her that each of the other local guides had such supplies with them, and that rain was not frequent during the summer months so the need for tents was hopefully going to be light. Those more seriously injured had been given priority for sleeping coverage.
"Your name is Ruth?"
The woman nodded in reply, then shook out the remaining blankets and laid them flat on the ground as padding under the tent, then sat back to look at Ivanova expectantly. The Captain was puzzling out the meaning of the logo and other pictures.
"Ok, so I lie down in there for privacy? Thanks, I didn't want to be out in the open for this." She paused, uncertain, and stared at Ruth's face intently for a few seconds. Then her eyes grew huge in recognition. "Oh my g- Sweet mother, you were - are - the reporter for ISN, from - on that - that rim world someplace, reporting during the Teep war! Ruth Harrison. You got *inside* a Psi Corps internment camp for your last broadcast! You managed to send back images of what was happening to the prisoners. That's what finally got the governments involved to end the damned war! You got pictures back and said bye and I love you to your family, hell, your anchorman back at the broadcast station was in tears! Then you disappeared. B- but how'd your throat get cut, and how'd you end up here?!"
Ruth took the book back, and wrote for several minutes while Ivanova twitched with impatience.
"I was still a latent then. I knew it, that's why I accepted the rim assignments, to stay away from the Corps. I didn't know there was a concentration camp for rogues nearby when I got to that worldlet. They found me, but didn't even bother to interrogate or scan me, just threw me into the pits with the rest of the prisoners. My cameraman, Doug, wasn't found. He later got to the outside of the fences and got my attention, then sent the hovercam over. He knew the current in the fences was enough to kill anyone who touched it, but he got close enough that he could throw it over without frying it. He had rigged it to record a message from me, even through the interference and having guards around. I tossed it back to him, then he ran for the nearby town - no shuttle left, no map, over 2000 km of swamp. Several days, nothing, didn't know if he got anywhere or was caught or what. Then I figured out he'd made it to the legit settlement and at least tried to get it broadcasted when the guards tore up anyone who didn't get out of the way fast enough, found me, and started the torture.
They didn't even ask questions.
They cut my neck at the very end, said I didn't have anything more to say. It was days, weeks maybe I guess - I had no way to tell time inside - into the torture, when the rangers showed up. Hundreds of them. Doug was with them, the crazy fool actually did get a signal to the stellarcom relay stations. He freed us. He killed the two still in the cell with me, even. He started to cry when he saw me lying there, holding my neck with the blood gushing out, but I lived. The corps had kept me alive that long just to hurt me, but their final act didn't kill me like they probably intended. I cannot remember anything past that, for many weeks. He couldn't take me home, there was still bits of the Corps left. The Rangers said they could bring us here, that we could stay if we wished. I stayed, so did the few hundred other prisoners who'd survived. Doug went back to earth and started raising funds to send supplies here. Most of our horse herds are because of him. He knew I was a latent, said he figured it after a few close calls we had where a normal wouldn't have known to where or when to run. Hugged me really good when he said bye. It was about two years ago. Myersal. Do you know if he's still okay?"
Ivanova paused for a moment to think. "Doug Myersal? Balding, brown hair, thin now but was really chubby a few years ago when you knew him? Yes? He's the main correspondent when ISN deals with stuff on Minbar - usually Ranger stuff, he lives near the primary training compound. He was okay a few months ago, last I saw. He always wears a red memory pin, always signs off with 'In memory of those who didn't make it out'. I thought he may have been talking about you, until now."
Ruth, smiling, had started to cry, and Ivanova held the sobbing woman with her working arm and hugged her until she was gradually calm. "So . . . you gonna cream my butt or not?"
Ruth laughed silently and nodded vigorously, pointing to the blankets and miming taking off clothing.
Ivanova dimmed the light - they were a little ways off from the main group and surrounded by trees, but she was still too prideful to want anyone to see her compromised even a little. She awkwardly pulled off her uniform and lay down on her belly. A few seconds later, she was hissing again. [That stuff is COLD!]
It worked, though, and she was able to relax enough to consider going to sleep a few minutes later. Ruth covered her gently with another blanket, then waited long enough to reply with a nod or shake to the questions Ivanova asked, while applying a layer of the numbing salve to her own rather battered hands. Afterwards, she went back with the lamp to grab her own blankets off the rock and lay them outside under the heavens.
"The 14 poisoning victims are obeying strict orders not to eat anything they weren't given?"
Nod.
"Do you usually ride saddleless?"
Nod.
"Do you know much pain that causes?"
A silent, if hearty, laugh.
"Think anyone will object if I walk the rest of the way? I know all the injured are supposed to ride, but. . . "
Shake, and a motion of fingers walking quickly along her arm.
"Yeah, I can walk fast enough when I'm not limping. Say, was it your stupid idea to name that lake we crashed at 'Sophocles'?"
Shake, and she pointed to a different spot in the camp.
"Are you going to tell me whose idea it was?"
Shake.
"Still going with that 'it's an honor' bit?"
A nod, and what looked very much like a pleased smirk.
"Byron didn't say two words to anyone during the whole day, not even at the lunch stop. Is he usually so quiet?"
Ruth paused, sad, then nodded.
"Think I can pry some info out of him? He - well . . . a friend of mine left with him when you all started looking for a home. I'm worried about her."
Ruth grinned and picked up Ivanova's uniform, rolled it into lump and held it tightly against her belly.
"What?"
Ruth sighed in exasperation, pointed to Ivanova, then touched her lips and pointed out to the camp, then she tapped the captain's wrist chronometer. It had been broken during the battle, but was still being worn out of habit. Then she pointed at the sky and moved her hand in a wide, high arch.
[What?] "I should ask tomorrow?" Ivanova guessed.
Ruth nodded, then rolled her eyes and touched the side of her head again.
"Uh, thanks, but I'm not about to let you send it into my brain, no matter how much better you think it is, ok? I just . . . can't let you. Don't ask why."
Ruth nodded, then paused. She touched Ivanova's head and then put her finger to her lips and nodded again. A distinct mental tap that made Ivanova bolt upright in shock followed.
They stared at each other for a few seconds, Ruth calm but not backing down, Ivanova terrified.
She buried her face in the blanket and moaned. "Then you DO know I'm a latent. Promise my crew won't be told! Please! If they even *think* there's a conflict of interest - this is going to be crazy enough when we get back, the news of you all! Please, my career and maybe my LIFE depend on it," she whispered urgently.
Ruth nodded solemnly, paused, and smiled. She cupped her hand to her ear, and gestured for the Captain to listen.
"Listen to what?"
Ruth just grinned wider and repeated the gesture before blowing out the lamp, then went out to her own blankets.
"Ruth, wait!" Ivanova called out suddenly.
The vague outline paused, and Ruth appeared to turn back for a moment.
"Do they know - my crew - do you want them to know that you're a - I mean - are you even? More than a latent."
There was an extended pause while the outline did not move. Then, very softly, Ivanova heard, [No. Not yet.]
Rattled to have heard another voice - a voice that had no sound - inside her head, Ivanova rolled onto her back again. "I won't tell them," she whispered.
There was no reply, just the faintest of rustlings as the other woman lay down.
The Captain went back to being alone [I can only hope!] with her thoughts as she drifted off to sleep, her worry being overridden by her exhaustion. [Listen to what? That almost-music? Is she talking about that? Maybe I'm not going nuts, then. I'll make sure Byron walks the whole time tomorrow, instead of being a forward scout again. I have to pry *something* out of him. I'll make him walk with me if I have to. I know he has a closed mouth, but if his facial expressions were anything to go by, he was talking telepathically at least a few times before today. I need to talk to him but I don't want to interrupt. Like during the camp at Lake Sophocles, before he gave us the reports each evening. But I don't know how he could have gotten the info from so far away. Maybe the few locals that were left along the way back acted as a relay of some sort, like we're doing with our communicators. Leaving a joined set of two every few hilltops to act as a relay back to Carlson, or something. But don't teeps need line of sight? Well, all but - wait. Lyta didn't! Augh! Now I won't be ABLE to sleep! But it makes sense. . . I mean, the reports from before . . .] and she drifted off to sleep.
~~~~
"Woah, mister. Stay here. I haven't been able to pry so much as a grunt from you all today, so now I'm going to make you sit and talk."
Byron merely turned to look at her as she glowered at him. "Why?"
"I want some answers, for one! For another, we were only a few feet away from each other for most of a 16-hour hike, and you didn't so much as whisper my way. Not even hello, goodbye, or that tree over there is called fill-in-the-blank. Why not?"
"I've never been much for small talk, Captain . . . and it's fill-in-the-gap."
There was a slight pause. "What?"
"That shrub you were just pointing to. It seeds remarkably well in new hollows, burned sections, and places that have been recently cleared. We named it fill-in-the-gap. I forget the Latin name at the moment." He gave her a quick smile and sat across from her on the ground, the small warm flames crackling between them as a late dinner cooked in the embers. Most of the other crew was gathered around similar fires, or had already dropped off to sleep. "You have questions. I have answers. Shall we see if they match? 42." He grinned at some joke she didn't understand.
"I'll go first. Who is on this planet, besides the general answer of 'telepaths'. How many and for how long? The last time I had any solid news of you, it was the middle of '62, when you left B5 with Lyta and almost 200 rogues. There have been rumors, scattered and often conflicting, as to where you were. If you still lived or not. I've noticed Lyta isn't here with you. From the security reports, she had grown rather attached to you. I trusted her. I had started to consider her a friend. I even worried about her. So . . . why isn't she here?"
Byron stared at his cup for a long moment before answering. "She isn't able to travel right now. Last I heard, she was doing well, considering."
"Considering what, is she hurt?" Ivanova wished she could have been able to pick up emotions from him, but her abilities weren't strong enough to scan through a block, not even for something as basic as feelings. But she was trying to listen, just like she'd been trying to pick up any stray thing from him, or the other locals, all that day. The noise from the minds of her crew made it difficult; she had been awash in strong emotions but was unable to filter the rest of them out from the one individual she wanted to hear. "Byron, I need to know how she's doing!"
Byron shook his head, still looking unhappy. "She's made it into her seventh month without bleeding, and the child's heartbeat was strong when I left. I pray every few minutes that she carries to term safely. Lyta is likely taking her last chance, the damage the Vorlon did to her upon his - its? - the second one's rather violent departure is gradually growing more severe as the scarring spreads."
Ivanova was stunned. "She's pregnant?!"
"Hopefully she still is. We don't have the medical facilities to support another premature baby. She - she lost her first two."
"You're the father," she whispered.
"Yes."
Susan closed her eyes for a minute to pray. Then, "How long until we get there?"
"Possibly a month," he sighed. "Between 3 more weeks and 7 weeks, depending on how fast we can travel. Health, weather, and delays while waiting for stragglers coming down from side valleys are all factors. Physically and emotionally, there is nothing she or we can do. Mentally, she tries to keep busy by co-ordinating the search, giving directions to the other colonists as to where to find the furthest soldiers for pickup, arranging who can stay where - you'll be billeted out when you arrive, we don't have many hotels as such. She contacts me," he touched his temple briefly, "every evening, to pass along news, numbers. She is worried, but as long as she continues to communicate, I know everything is all right. There is a group, one of my men and 27 of your crew waiting about fifteen kilometres along. We'll meet with them mid-morning tomorrow, try to reach a second group of 48 by the next morning and wait for numerous stragglers - there is a valley junction at their location, and several small groups are still winding down through the side passages. There's a river in the way that we'll have to ford, with steep edges and a very strong current. It wasn't easy the first time, and we were not carrying wounded then. We lost a horse and several packs. Things we can ill afford to lose. But we have not had the time, skills or patience on this particular trip to make a raft or boat, and certainly not a bridge; though I left three men at the river to come up with what they could in the time until we get there." He paused, apparently to regroup his thoughts. "As to your first question, any telepath who wishes to come. They are told there will be minimal technology, and violence will not be tolerated. Some did not come. Some left after only a few hours. A few left when the next transport convoy would arrive, a few weeks or months later - a few were removed forcibly, if they would not or could not adhere to our anti-violence laws. The rest stayed. We have had no Alliance ships arrive for the last local year, apart from you and a group of White Stars, 8 months back, delivering medical vaccines against a new plague that had appeared out there, a hundred head of horse, and a few dozen former latents who wanted to come. All but one chose to stay. And now you bring news of Earth's recent quarantine." He sighed, thinking for a minute of the world he'd grown up on.
Then he continued. "Numbers . . . I don't know. Almost 3 million human telepaths, scattered over parts of this world. Pick your jaw up, you look undignified with it laying in the dirt. Yes, three million; but between illnesses, winter cold, and the frequent lack of food, that number might have decreased. We live right across both continents, and many of the islands. The 3rd largest contingent lives in The Wall, about 200 thousand. That is where I am based as well, though I must travel frequently to the Capital. And it is not just humans here, I remind you. There are just over 2 million Minbari telepaths, mainly gathered in and around 3 cities on the southern continent, with perhaps a few hundred thousand scattered all over. Some - around 200, I believe, live in The Wall. For safety, every species had a least a few representatives there. Some passages go miles down, and are pretty much impenetrable should an attack come, so safety is not an issue. The Wall is also a major trade center, but that's a different topic. Nearly every Centauri telepath that could escape their world before it was sealed off lives here, or had been told a little about it but decided they'd rather have powered homes. Undisputed as the best winemakers, there are hundreds of vineyards all over our world. But only a few dozen live in The Wall, compared to several million scattered in 49 cities. One per God, and so they are named. Li is looking to soon be a very popular vacation spot for all species - It lives up to its namesake. Many other Alliance-known species - Vree, Llort, Pak'ma'ra, Drazi, they all have telepathic representatives on our world, even if only a team of trained diplomats. Quite often the majority population of a species didn't know about us, and very likely still do not, if they were unkind to their telepaths. Plus there are many colonists from species the Alliance had yet to meet when they came; and many small groups of mundane survivors of the final First One attacks. They had no other place to go, since their home worlds were destroyed. We do not turn away those who need a home. Our total population is probably between the 30 million and 70 million mark. I've never checked the census count personally. Very few Narns, however, only a few teachers and tradesmen. No telepaths among them, of course."
"And you all get along?" She was quite surprised.
"Basically. Being telepathic does much to bridge gaps. Intent can be shown, not just action or words. Both of the latter can be misinterpreted, but what you want to communicate can be shared as pure concept. No interfering words. Saves a lot of bloodshed." He sat in silence for a while as they both watched another moon rising, and she mulled over his words. "We still have our differences, however. Cultural gaps that were slow to connect at first; a few personal grudges that were dragged in and had to be resolved. Personal grudges that arose here, even. When we first decided that an 8 day week would be best - it fit the year here better than a seven - we didn't realise what that would do to the religious groups which based their calendar on the 7 day week. There was everything from mild disagreements to fistfights when we had to decide which day would be considered the Sabbath."
"Uh oh."
"We now have two days, actually. It wasn't easy to get everyone to calm down afterwards, as you can well imagine. We finally decided the first and the last day would be equally valid, and its personal choice whether to have the start or the end of the week in prayer. Some choose both, some neither, but everything seems to be going smoothly now. Some of the non-human groups had an easier time of it, they've been around long enough to allow for variations such as those. They kept their own calendars for private use, following the colony-started one for commerce, trade, and a few more excuses to have parties. After hundreds, sometimes thousands of years of repression, we like to have fun whenever we can."
"How long have you been here? I'm assuming you were among the first."
"Lyta lost her first while we still travelled. The second was buried above The Wall, in a valley we must pass through - you were lucky enough to land in a main pass between two ranges, it had already been mapped, and there are plans to built a road eventually, connecting us to a Brakiri city in the other direction, near the coastline. The distance is more than triple what we have to cross, so it's not a high priority yet. Within a local decade, we'll begin, each coming from our own side. But for now we're concentrating on growing stronger crops, getting our herd numbers up to strength, and laying roads along level ground. We've been here a few years, at least."
"That's not a very exact way to date events."
"No, but it tracks what I consider important, and there are historians in the settlements you can contact if you wish for clarity. And there is another way. Marie birthed safely the day we landed. She lives with her daughter in a town 3 days from the southern end of The Wall. I'll ask them to come so that you may see the girl's age. After the center group, the next ones to begin settlement were Minbari. Since they gave many of us safe passage here, they knew its location. Not all, of course, but almost a fifth of their telepathic population came. They liked the idea of assisting their own instead of just mundanes, and a few hundred reasons I can't understand except that it had something to do with honour. Other convoys soon followed; refugees packed by the hundreds into cargo holds alongside personal liners that left a single member and a lot of needed equipment, and everything in between. Any ship that didn't carry a telepath, either active or latent, was either consumed by the vortex or spit back out into normal hyperspace with it's systems scrambled to prevent them from re-entering. If your weapons systems hadn't been completely destroyed before you found us, you too would have been shredded. Remember that when you begin your repairs. The vortex permeates this entire system, not just the edges - if you try to use, or even try to power up any weapons - even a hand-held plasma gun, I can guarantee you that there will be nothing left but a small crater."
"I have already passed the no weapons rule along the comm units. Will the others in my crew, who are out of range, be warned?"
"It is already done, but please do not hold us responsible if they disobey and suffer for it. The vortex is not sentient, but it is ruthlessly equal. We had few weapons when we came, anyway, and you have seen what happens to circuitry here."
"I find it odd, though, that the comms and most of the medical equipment have not shorted out, while almost everything else is doing so."
"Better protection, perhaps, or luck," Byron said, giving the impression of nonchalance. At her penetrating look, his face darkened abruptly. "But know this - there have been times and places where our own tools failed us, and often the resulting deaths numbered *beyond* the hundreds. When an antiquated and battered third-hand ship is trying to set down with over five thousand refugees crammed into it, the results of a landing failure can be felt for hundreds of kilometres in all directions. Telepaths have an extremely unique death-scream. I have felt it too many times."
Ivanova could not answer that. Nor did she want to.
He changed the topic again. "The Psi Corps bothered the travellers a great deal at first, as did some other agencies that controlled telepaths from other species. When news of what the Corps was doing to telepaths - and any mundanes who helped them - was leaked, the actual *war* started. I suspect the only reason a few of the former Psi Cops are even permitted to live here is because of the prisoner and sleeper exodus - and only those who helped with the escapes, mind you; not anyone who knowingly and willingly supported the Corps."
"The what exodus?"
"When they all left for here."
"When?!"
He told her the exact months, and her jaw dropped again. "The Telepath massacres - they weren't killed but instead were sent or brought here? But - the ships full of bodies, the fires, the confessions, the slaughterhouses full of corpses-"
"Oh, there were many deaths, I know. Thousands, hundreds of thousands. All the ones killed trying to escape, the people who were killed trying to stop the ones who wanted to escape, the thousands of innocents caught in the middle. Plus any rogue in Corps custody was killed as soon as possible, those bodies will likely never be recovered for a proper burial or census count. We heard the news as it trickled in. But almost all the telepaths that were under Corps control, but lived, are now here and learning how to be free again. There are just a few thousand left in earthforce territory, most of which don't know we are here, but some just go along with the lie - they are needed, well-paid, and live in luxury. Minimal competition for their services means they can charge outrageous prices. It is their choice. Those responsible for the atrocities are either dead or in your prisons, serving very long sentences in segregation for their crimes. *They* were not invited. But did no one realise there were many 'missing' telepaths from other species as well? The Centauri, for instance? None of the Brakiri said anything?"
"I guess not . . . you were all ignored for so long . . . well. How many humans are here again?"
"About 3 million telepaths. Almost all the survivors of the former Corps, former sleepers. Family members make up another 6 million or so, but mundanes are considered citizens as long as they're related. Parents, siblings and children are full-class citizens - they have the genes, even if they're not telepathic themselves. Spouses . . . if telepathic children have been produced, they are full class as well. If not, and the spouse dies or divorces, the mundane must either leave or be able to prove worth to be permitted to remain. We don't allow sloth. We can't afford it. We still have tremendous work ahead."
"Nine million . . . but why no tech?"
"You hear the music? No? That's because we're near power sources - your comm equipment, the other things salvaged from your lifepods. Go for a walk with one of us tomorrow or in the next few days, away from the EM field. Listen with your mind. The planet sings to us, to you. Not to most of your crew. Mundanes can't hear it. Also, the lack of 'higher technology' gives the 70 telepaths whom the shadows had altered a safe home - no power source sensed equals no desire to 'merge with the machine'. Well, there are hundreds, but you know of the 70 who were in cryosleep on B5. We can't completely remove the implants, but they can live normally here. Carolyn Sanderson's child is alive and healthy, but her mother refused to ever speak with Bester again, after learning how many of her friends he'd killed or ordered killed. I think the naive fool actually *believed* the propaganda that the rogues he'd taken in were rehabilitated into 'society'. Try into the ground - they were bred, experimented on and finally killed. Every single one, until the exodus. He'd personally shot her sister - in the face - when she tried to go rogue, before he met Carolyn. She didn't take well to the news."
"No . . . I would guess not. Augh! Damn arm itches, but it's still too sore to scratch."
"May I?" He offered out a hand.
"If you can help, I'll try almost anything."
Byron placed his hand on the back of her neck, closed his eyes for a minute, and Ivanova felt the itch leak away. "I blocked the 'itch receptors' in your brain. It will only work for a few hours, just enough to let you go to sleep."
"Thank you. Good night. Byron, wait. This might sound like a dumb question, but - your last name isn’t James, is it?"
He shook his head, no. His confusion was evident even in the fading light.
“Oh, good. Sleep well.”
She found an empty spot and laid out a pair of blankets, forgoing the idea of a tent over her head again. It showed no sign of rain, and the dew had been light enough to not warrant cover. She wanted to see the stars. It would be 2 months, if not more, before the ship was ready to go again. It would take a few weeks just to let the radiation levels drop low enough to begin repairs. *If* it could be repaired. She knew she had to get used to seeing stars from the ground.
Her mind wouldn't shut up long enough to let her drop off right away, though. She had some answers now, but even more questions. And worries. [One - two - three layers of first blanket on the dirt as padding, one, two layers of the second, lay down, last third of second blanket on top. The ground will be colder than the air. At least I don't hurt today. Stupid horses.] Ivanova fiddled with her blankets, cursing the general lack of mattresses.
[Pretty much everyone else is sleeping already . . . just the guards watching to make sure some stupid animal doesn't wander in and step on someone by accident. No, not quite everyone. I can hear some couples getting busy. Well, at least they're trying to be quiet about it, which is better than the first few nights. Yeesh. I had no idea my crew was so damn horny. I guess I know better, now. Huh. Nights are easier for the game of love, but that fact didn't stop the side trips during the day.] She closed her eyes and tried to sleep, but the repeating image of an exploding Starfury kept her from being able to rest, even as tears marred the memory.
She tried to think of other things. [Come to think of it, two of the local girls made a couple of side trips today. They might have come back with wild grain or fruit in those baskets, but what else might they have been doing paired off like that? They've started flirting, too - Sarah especially! - and I can guess the reason why they're so choosy. It's only partly on looks and lack of a spouse. I heard one of the chosen men commenting on hearing music, and that one wasn't the only crewmember I overheard talking about it. No words, no actual tunes they can make out, just a tickle in their ears that was sometimes there. 'The planet sings to us. Not to most of your crew.' Byron didn't say my crew, he said *most of* my crew. There's about thirteen, maybe fourteen in the current group whose family histories had helped me make the decision as to who should serve on my ship. All of them had a sibling, parent, or other relative who was a telepath. The ones talking were all from the family category - I'd picked them out deliberately, having learned my lesson during the Shadow War, on the hopes some of them might be latents, and with the risk that the Sophocles might run into some old Shadow Tech laying around. It hasn't happened, but I trusted them by that point and didn't bother to transfer them off. It seems my hunches were correct - could they be latents as well? Are the girls are picking out men - the single men - who are latent teeps? Or at least have some telepath genes in them. How'd they know? Maybe they found out about the families by talking with them . . . but they just plain *knew* for me. I'll ask someone later, once I've done more observations . . . none of the male locals have so much as blinked at the women in my crew. So figure that one, Ivanova.]
She stared at the sky for a while, then, unbidden, [I miss Gray.]
Harriman Gray had been the ship's telepath . . . and more recently, her lover. Not that she'd let Carlson in on either fact - the latter because she told no one about it, at all; and the former because if Carlson wasn't capable of checking the files on the crew, he deserved to be left in the proverbial dark. She didn't love Gray emotionally, but had cared about him, his pleasant body, and had come to like the shy pilot a lot; more than she was willing to admit. More than he would comment on, even when they were alone, since he had enough brains to avoid taboo subjects. The starry smear of bright spots of light was again overlaid with the repeating image of his death, making her rub her eyes. [Bastard Drakh!] She cursed mentally, no longer caring if the teeps here heard her. She was a latent herself, she could probably keep it from leaking. They knew, anyway. [What am I going to do when this is over and we go home? What do I say to the brass back on earth? What if we can't go home?]
~~~~
She didn't show any official notice of the crew's side excursions that day or the next several, and didn't bother to object. Her own misery, slowly fading, wasn't reason for her crew to keep to themselves. It helped morale. After enough time spent walking beside Ruth, she'd managed to convince her to give another massage, even if she didn't need the numbing cream this time. Ivanova had wanted a different kind of care. Despite her obvious fear of any physical contact (Ruth barely tolerated the remedial touching required of her by Sarah, the local woman who had experience with rough 'homespun' medicines, to apply painkillers and the frequent sunblock creams that kept Ruth's scars from burning to a crisp), the blonde woman eventually agreed, and they spent the fifth evening after travelling engaged in gentle mutual comfort. It was a sweet, familiar sensation to wake up in someone's arms again; and she was soon growing to trust the woman, often walking near her as they travelled.
In a contrast she didn't quite want to make, Ivanova found herself watching Byron closely during those few days he stayed with the main group - usually acting as a pair of telepathic eyes to the crewman who'd been blinded. She couldn't do it most days because Byron was usually gone from dawn until dusk, serving with the forward scouts who marked out the trail for the others to follow and set up the next night-camp, or with the perimeter scouts that fanned out from the main group to gather food while they moved. Most of the locals rotated through scouting duty with great frequency, and Ruth had soon explained privately that it was to escape the interference of the electronics the main group carried with them. The only two locals who did not seem to mind the comms near them were Ruth; who preferred to stick close to the Captain for a sense of safety, and young Jesse; who had explained that he didn't have a lick of telepathy in him. "Couldn't scan you if'n I even wanted t'do so," he declared loudly, but later he whispered to her that sometimes he could pick up on broadcasts by an active, even overhear when a nearby latent was 'thinking out loud'. Jesse said a great many things, actually. He never seemed to stop talking unless he was asleep or hunting an edible animal he'd spotted; and his information always proved accurate when it came to which animal was worth trying to hunt and which plants would make a human sick.
But the young colonist's verbal diarrhoea didn't bother Ivanova. It was the behaviour of the local's leader, Byron. She'd soon given up trying to pry complete sentences out of him on a daily basis, choosing instead to save up until she had enough questions and concerns to make him sit down every few evenings and actually talk for more than a minute. She wasn't watching him in the romantic sense [Lyta is going to be a mother! That's great! Maybe I can find enough excuses to stay long enough to meet the baby . . . be an honorary aunt], but to see how he was behaving. Something about the man rubbed her proverbial fur the wrong way; but she could not figure out what, besides his almost pathological ability to side-step direct questions with unrelated answers. He didn't make any 'visits', none of the male telepaths seemed to at all, despite numerous and often blatant advances on the tall, blond-braided, blue eyed man and his friends.
She couldn't figure out why she didn't quite trust him - if he *had* returned any of the crew's flirting, she'd have railed him into the closest cliff-face, but he didn't seem to even notice that half the crew was female. While Ivanova knew that few of them were a match for the prettiness she remembered Lyta having, that still didn't explain why he seemed to be so withdrawn; dark moods barely hidden under a facade of calm or even false cheeriness. But she had other things to occupy her mind. The journey was a memorable one, to say the least. It had many bright spots, a few dark ones, and long stretches of boredom as they walked towards their destination.
~~~~