Babylon 5 11 - Psi Corps 02 - Deadly Relations - Bester Ascendant (Keyes, Gregory)

by Bester Ascendant (Keyes, Gregory)

  He tried to keep that in mind, as he focused on the sphere that signified Simons psyche. As he watched, the translucent shells began opaquing.

  He was confident that his own blocks were in place. They were familiar friends. Still, general blocks were of only so much use in this test.

  Proceed, Teacher Roberts said.

  Simon came at him in a storm front, a roaring, crackling mass. Amused by the crudity of that approach, Al met him force for force, and they collided like twin hurricanes. Jagged blue-white bolts condensed into coruscating ball lightnings, eddying, sputtering out, sometimes erupting into whirls of purple fire. Simon couldnt beat him like this, and he must know it. What was he up to?

  A terrible fear gripped him. Then a sense of defeat. The test was already over. Somehow Simon had already found his hidden image, was about to tell Teacher Roberts what it was

  No . Simon had been clever. The frontal assault was a feint; the real attack was this awful despondency, sneaking down the slow, tropical river of his limbic system. Emotion so basic and colorless he hadnt recognized it wasnt his own.

  But to project despair so well, Simon must own some of it.

  Al tightened the feelings, intensified them, and launched them back to their source, in a fluid bolt that dug quickly through the outer shells of Simons mind. It stopped short of the inner sphere, but like an oil strike in reverse, started pooling there, flooding and poisoning Simons outer blocks with gloom. As his own false sense of failure faded, Al caught a surge of panic from Simon.

  He worried for a moment this might be another feintan attempt to exaggerate his confidencebut his deepest instinct told him it was real. The acid of Simons attack was dissolving his own guards.

  Simons psionic thunderhead boiled away, but Als was still there, and finding itself suddenly unchecked, it hurled toward the deconstructing blocks. One, two, three shells cracked and sublimated, and Al snatched greedily at the glyphs leaking through, as bright and effervescent as oil on a sunlit pool. Simon attempted to distract him one last time by triggering an involuntary motor responsea desperate move because if discovered, it was easily reversed. It was a clumsy attack, and Al simply reflected it without knowing what it was.

  The last of Simons blocks shattered, and his secret stood revealed: a photograph of a knight in armor.

  Laughable. Al opened his eyes.

  It was a photograph of a knight, he said, briskly. Fourteenth century, I think.

  Simons eyes were wide and dazed. He was looking vaguely at his lap, and as Al caught the scent of ammonia, he suddenly realized what motor response Simon had been trying to provoke.

  Served him right, then.

  Very good, Alfred, Teacher Roberts said. And good try, Simon.

  May I be excused, sir? Simon choked out.

  Yes, perhaps youd better.

  When Simon was gone, Teacher Roberts lips twitched in a little grin. That was welldone, he said. Now, I didnt see what was in the envelope you chose. I still dont know what your image was.

  Yes, sir.

  Im coming for it Now.

  Before Al could blink, an egg of molten pain cracked against the nape of his neck. He had already relaxed his battle guards, of course, and this smashed through his habitual ones as if they werent there. Desperately, he tried to enfold the pain, but Teacher Roberts Humpty-Dumpty would not be put together again.

  Instead, he just gritted his teeth and swallowed it. It was only pain, and nothing real was happening to his body. Nothing real, though he felt his hands clutch and spasm with the force of it.

  Teacher Roberts mind didnt look much like Simons. It was part spider and part octopus, spinning out a hundred tentacle-legs of black concertina wire. One of these was already wrapped around his neck, razoring into it, and more were enveloping him.

  Vision and manipulation. The two shaping forces of telepathy. He pushed back his fear and hesitation, grasping the scalpel strands with imaginary hands, knotting them to each other. Many faded as he did so, but not quickly enough. More came, splitting like roots digging into loose soil, now tipped with throbbing green scorpion stings. He couldnt stop them all, and he knew it More wrapped around him, and pain was a hot filament through his axis.

  Dont be confused . He was letting Teacher Roberts control the imago. The instructors mind was no more a monster than Simons had been a spherical fortress, but Al had let himself be convinced it was, tried to fight the metaphor on its own termstreating the tentacles as if they were real .

  He twisted his perspective, twisted it again, and the radial monster collapsed around itself, formed the knight from Simons photograph, save that it had four arms instead of two, each equipped with a massive sword. This was a perception he could deal with a bit more easily; one of the weapons was buried in his neck, but he slid off of it, made each of his fingers a rapier and flicked them out.

  The knight fell back beneath the onslaught, sparks striking on his armor from Als needlelike fingers, then lashed back even stronger than before. Three of the blades grew longer and heavier as the fourth condensed away. They hammered at his rapiers, shattered them, and Al was forced to replace them with bucklers just to fend off the merciless battering.

  Still, he was planning a new attack when he suddenly noticed that the fourth sword hadnt vanished at all, but merely reshaped itself into a gun. It winked a red eye, as Al threw everything he hadeverythinginto a final, impossible defense. Something in his skull seemed to explode, and silence followed.

  He blinked his lids open. Someone was patting him on the cheek. The rasping in his head was his own breath, and his lips had a salty taste on them. The bright copper smell of blood clogged his nose.

  Sorry about that, Alfred. It was Teacher Roberts, with a concerned look on his face. I let you push yourself too hard.

  Al swallowed shakily. He noticed that he was on a gurney, that not far away a nurse was fussing about.

  Where am I? That was Words failed him.

  This is the infirmary. Youre okay, they just wanted to watch you for a little while. Youve been out for about two hours. He hesitated, then gripped Als hand. I want you to understand that I wasnt trying to hurt you, Al. But in your contest with Simon, I noticed a certain self-congratulatory smugness. Youre good for your age, and you push yourself harder than anyone Ive ever seentoo hard, in fact, as this incident demonstratesbut there are mind rippers out there who can make what just happened to you seem like a thump on the nose. It would be a disservice for me not to help you understand that, now, before you make a habit of overconfidence.

  I think I understand, sir.

  I dont think you do. But its a start. He paused. You grasped part of my lessons, Al. You tried to control the imago, the metaphorical construct I attacked you with, and did a good job. Its one approach, but it has its dangers. Its a sort of a shaman game

  Sir?

  Shamans. Tribal doctors and magicians. Worldwide, they were said to go into trances and fight battles of imago, transforming as their opponents transformed. One would be a wolf, the other would become a lion. Then the first would become a bear, his opponent a T. rex or something. Often it was even more subtle than that; one becomes fire, the other becomes rain, the drowned fire rises as a mistand so on.

  The winner is the one whose form plays most cleverly and convincingly against his opponents form. It only works because both combatants allow their minds to accept the rules, to be bound by what they know of the normal world. And that brings me to one last point. Have you ever played paper, scissors, rock?

  Yes, sir. Al was mystified by the sudden change of direction.

  Lets play. On three.

  They shook their closed fists three times. Al kept his clenched rock. Teacher Roberts came out two fingersscissors.

  Well? the teacher said.

  I win. Rock smashes scissors.

  Teacher Roberts reached out, very quickly, and grabbed Als hand at thumb and little finger, twisting it around. Al yelped, involuntarily, in surprise and pain.


  I win, Roberts said. I win because I dont acknowledge that there was a rock or scissors. Only our hands. And my hand is bigger, faster, stronger, more skillful than yours. You see? He released Als hand as quickly as he had taken it.

  Yes. I see, Al said. You cheated. You broke the rules .

  Teacher Roberts caught that, and his eyes glittered. Exactly, Al. Exactly. You have a decision coming. This is the end of this session, and youll be going to the Minor Academy next, if you pass. If you arent comfortable with breaking rules, I suggest you take business prep courses. If you want to be a Psi Cop, though

  He smiled and stood up. Ill see you tomorrow for your written final. Its a take-home. Discusslets seeI want you to compare Yakut shamanic battles, the Flight of Loki, and the exploits of the lively Lemminkainen. And be ready to transpose them in action, should I ask. Yes?

  Yes, sir. Though he had not the faintest idea what a Yakut wasor who Loki or Lemminkainen were. That kind of assignment was typical of Teacher Roberts.

  Howd you do? Brett asked, as Al came into the room with an armload of books.

  I stunk. And he gave me a take-home. Al closed his eyes for an instant; his psi contest with Teacher Roberts had left him feeling as if he hadnt slept in days.

  Hmm. Well, dont wear outwe have the intercadre tournament day after tomorrow. I think weve got a good chance.

  Sure we do.

  Brett turned back to whatever it was he was doing. Al opened his books and began trying to sort out what to skim through first. Brett was only sucking up to him because he did want the cadre to win. That was Brett, always thinking about his position as leader.

  Not that anyone had ever elected him, or anything. They just accepted it, which was all wrong. Brett was neither the smartest nor psionically the strongest. Why should he be the one everyone paid attention to?

  But that was the way it was, wasnt it? For now, anyway. When they got to the academy, where positions were officially awarded by merit and ability, he would come into his own.

  He had just a week to wait.

  He focused his attention on the book, and to his surprise, he found himself enjoying it. He was entirely absorbed in the weird duel of two Yakut shamans when the door suddenly burst open.

  He hadnt heard or felt them coming. You never did.

  Grins. Angry Grins.

  What have I done this time? He was afraid hed let it slip out. Fear mingled freely with his anger, and he certainly wanted to keep that in.

  In the last year or so, the Grins had become more and more arbitrary with their punishments and scans. It should be obvious to everyone how unfair it was, but the adults never seemed to notice the change, even when it went on right in front of them.

  He tried to remember what he had maintained that very morning, that they had no business questioning the Grins, but it was hard, very hard.

  Take off your clothes. All of them, the Grins commanded, in their flat, less-than-Human voices.

  He and Brett complied. Al might resent them, but there was never any question of obeying them. They were a fact of life.

  It got worse. The Grins herded the two of them, naked, from their room into the common room, and there was the rest of the cadre, all naked as slugs, girls and boys alike. Al had always supposed he might like to see some of the girls without their clothes onespecially Milla, who had taken on an intriguing shape in the last year or sobut he found that faced with it, like this, he was horrified. They didnt seem pretty, or sexy, or whateverthey seemed like sea creatures, yanked from their shells, left to shiver and die naked on the beach.

  In other words, they looked exactly as he felt. Sick.

  From the common room, they were all forced outside. The expressions on the masks of their tormentors became less pleasant by the second.

  * * *

  chapter 4

  « » The Grins led them down what seemed miles of sidewalk, surrounded on every side by older kids, academy students, adults. Al felt himself being measured, weighed, scrutinized. Though the watching crowd uttered not a single sound, telepathic gibes and insults made it clear they found him wanting.

  Little guy, isnt he? A little rat.

  Hey, kid, whats a six-year-old doing, doing the walk?

  Are those your arms, or soda straws?

  And now the Grins were grinning, and Al suddenly realized that all along their smiles had been ironiceven when they were bringing presents or awards, they had always been smiling at him, not for him. Laughing at him, behind their masks.

  At last the walk was over, and they were led into a darkened room, spacious, a little musty. It wasnt so dark that he couldnt see the others, who, like him, were starting to shiver with the cold, wanting to huddle together. But they were kept apart by nakedness and terror. A lot of them were crying, and many were blooping like crazy, all their lessons drowned by shame and humiliation.

  But they couldnt do that to him. Not to Alfred Bester. He didnt know what was going on herewhether the Grins had gone insane, or whether this was some horrible plot somehow perpetrated by mundanesbut when the Psi Cops found out about this, somebody would pay. They would pay, and he would be there to see it.

  He jerked, suddenly, like the fish he had once seen a man pull out of Lake Geneva. A scan blasted through his defenses as if they werent there. He rallied a defenseand let it drop. No one was allowed to challenge the Grins.

  But if the Grins had gone insane

  It was too late, anyway. They were dragging glyphs from his mind, scattering them to the other kids: Him looking longingly at Julia. Wetting his pants when he was six. Stealing a candy when no one was looking. The things he kept locked awayblack spiders in secret jars, bright hopes he hoarded like jewels. All were torn from him and thrown into the air like confetti shredded from his soul.

  And the air was suffocating with such confetti. There was Brett, peeking through a cracked door at Ms. Chastain as she bathed. There was Milla, bleeding between her legs and crying, so humiliated she couldnt think straight. Azmun, sitting in class, suddenly losing control of his bowels, afraid to let anyone know, unable to admit what he had done, as the smell got stronger and stronger

  It went on and on, the wailing and bawling worse and worse, until finally, something cracked in Al. He stood up, and it was like his mind was on fire, like he was shooting comets out of his brain instead of thoughts.

  STOP IT! STOP IT! STOP IT! YOU STINKING GRINS, STOP IT!

  The other kids took it up, first one, then another, then all of them, screaming at the Grins to stop. Al felt suddenly as if he were an atom of water in a huge wave, a tsunami of anger and justice.

  And the Grinsstopped. But the kids didntthe wave grew and grew, crushing down on the Grins, as they psionically gorged on each others anguish, fear, and hatred.

  Then a terrible white light filled the room, blinding, and everything broke off into confusion again. When the light came back down, when they could see again, they were so stunned that no one said or psied anything.

  Because the Grins had taken off their masks. Al knew them.

  Teacher Roberts. Teacher Hua. Ms. Chastain. Ms. Kitsuru. Teacher Alverado. Mr. King. Nurse Childress, who had held him and talked softly to him, sung him bedtime stories. They were all Grins. All of the adults. All of the people who had raised him. The Corps.

  Teacher Hua, the oldest, stepped forward into the stunned silence.

  Now you see, he said, gently. And now, hopefully, you understand. The Corps is mother and fatherand we are all mother and father to one another. We are the ones who raised you, taught you right from wrong, pleased youand yes, frightened you. This is all to the good, and in the future you shall understand, even if you dont now.

  You are Cadre Prime. All telepaths are special, but you are the most special. The powers of most children do not bloom until they are eleven, twelve, older. Most of you manifested almost as you were born. Only five percent manifest before puberty. You are all rare.

  Cadre Prime. Telepaths born, and you have raised
each other as much as we have raised you. When you move from here, from cadre dorms and into the academiesit will be different. You will live and work beside those who were raised as normals who realized their abilities later in life, who do not understand the Corps as you do. They say the words but do not understand in their hearts what it is to be Corps. It is your special gift to be able to teach them that, to show them by the example of how you live, how you learn, how you work together and apart.

  All of usall of us who stand before youwe were once members of Cadre Prime. We are your mothers and fathers, we are your sisters and brothers. We stood before our elders as you now stand before us. We were frightened, humiliated, angryas you are. And together, as you did, we took up the cry, threw off the yoke, became mothers and fathers ourselves. Then they revealed themselves to us, as we have to you.

  Now it comes full circle. You were children. Now I say, you are not. You are us, and we are you.

  Teacher Hua began taking off his clothes. The others did, too. Without the grey robes, teacher Hua was a scrawny old man with a potbelly. He did not look scary at all. He knelt before them, and the other adults followed suit.

  A moment ago, your minds were violated. That was to show you one reason the Corps was formed, why one must never invade the mind of another without their permission. That law must be inviolate. It will not be done to you again, and you must not do it to others, except in very special circumstances.

  One of those is now. Our minds are open. Our barriers are down. Do what you will.

  For a long moment, it was impossible to believe. No one moved. They just stared at the kneeling adults, their teachers and friends, who were also their tormentors.