Chang glanced over his shoulder into the hall.
"When you discovered that mouse, you turned this place upside down. There's a lot of interest in it."
Anna shrugged.
"Of course there is."
"You have to proceed carefully."
She sighed.
"Politics, I know."
"You shouldn't dismiss politics so quickly. Politics are often a stronger force than the truth."
He paused, his weatherworn face again seeming drained.
"I can't authorize it. I know what they want. They want absolute secrecy. They're even more paranoid than normal."
"But a telepath would have to keep this confidential."
Chang nodded, his gaze drifting back to the mouse.
"Have you tried affecting it mentally, from a distance?"
"No. I don't see how I could."
"Try it for me. Just to see."
She turned to him, twisting her lips.
"I'm going to feel stupid."
"Worse things have happened."
She took a deep breath, let it out. The mouse lay still, sleeping. She focused on the patterns frozen on its surface, the supple skin, the complex structure of bone, the oscillating current of brain, the heart she knew beat within. Move, damn it, move. Wake up. Time to wake up. Do something. Dance a jig. Sing a song. The machine says it's time to wake up! Nothing. She turned back to Chang.
"I do feel stupid."
"We had to try."
She ran her hands up under her shoulder-length hair and grabbed her scalp. She wasn't about to give up. This puzzle was solvable, and she'd discovered the key.
"I don't need your authorization, you know. To bring in a telepath."
Chang nodded.
"But if you tell me about it, I have to forbid it."
"What if I don't tell you about it?"
Chang looked over his shoulder again.
"I've been directed to get daily reports from you on your progress."
"They are interested."
She released her head.
"What if you come for your daily report at..."
- she checked her watch -
"... six o'clock?"
Chang smiled.
"Four."
Anna made what John called her monkey face, gritting her teeth and pulling her lips back.
"Five?"
Chang stood.
"Dr. Sheridan, I'll expect your report at five o'clock."
"And I'll be pleased to give it to you, Dr. Chang."
She had the computer retrieving business listings for telepaths before he'd left the room.
CHAPTER 2
TERRENCE Hilliard, certified telepath, arrived at three o'clock. He was a tall, slim black man who wore a fashionable olive-green suit and, of course, black gloves. He presented his credentials, certifying him P5. All the telepaths she had met were slim, Anna mused. She wondered if it was part of their training.
"Thanks for coming on such short notice."
"Not a problem," Terrence said.
"I had a cancellation this morning, and you fit right in."
He had a lovely voice, deep, with a lilting, Irish accent. She took him to the isolab window and showed him the mouse inside, explaining her experience with it.
"I'm hoping that it may have been designed to be controlled telepathically. Or at least that some telepathic contact may activate its own internal mechanisms."
"This is quite unusual," Terrence said.
"I've never attempted telepathic contact with an object before. "
"You probably think I'm crazy, right?"
Terrence smiled, and it was the kind of smile that lit up his face, the kind of smile John had. God, she missed him. In eighteen hours she'd be on her way to see him, and for three weeks she hoped never to see the outside of the hotel room.
"You could fill a thimble with what I know about archaeology. But I have to say, I don't think I'm going to be able to sense anything, let alone be able to order it 'round to fetch your slippers."
They both laughed, and Anna had him sit beside her in front of the isolab window. She set the isolab scanners to record.
"Is there anything you need?" she asked.
"I assume you want to keep it isolated? This would be easier with physical contact."
"I'd like to try it this way first. If there are any changes in the object, we can get a clear record. If it doesn't work, then we can try physical contact."
"Very well. Just give me a few moments quiet, please."
He folded his hands, and his face grew serious. Anna studied the isolab readout. The scanners were detecting no change. The mouse sat, stubborn, silent. Then the gray began to flow over its skin, not like before, in a halting, block by block progression, but in a wave of darkness pulsing down its body from head to tail, again and again, faster and faster, like a heartbeat.
Anna jumped up, bit back a yelp, sat down again. The mouse's temperature was beginning to rise. The wave had now engulfed the mouse, so that its entire skin seemed to lighten and darken at once, pulsing. It glowed with a gray, shadowy light. Even its shape seemed to be pulsing, growing larger and smaller, as if it were panting. The frequency and amplitude of the brain waves increased. The temperature of the mouse shot up.
"Terrence! It's superheating!"
The pressure in the room changed. Anna's ears popped, and with a flash of light and a shriek that shredded the fabric of the air, she was scooped up out of her chair on a geyser of hot air and tossed back over her desk to the floor.
Her ears rang. She shook her head and climbed to her feet, holding the desk for support. Her knees were shaking.
"Shit!"
The mouse had exploded. The lights in the isolab had been blown out, as had the window, yet she could see in the remaining light that little of the mouse survived. Fragments of skin and bone and glops of quasi-organic matter were splattered over the inside of the isolab. There went her Nobel. There went her reputation. There went the only example of biomechanical technology. But most of all, there went her opportunity to understand this thing, this semicreature that had fascinated her and presented her with the chance to learn so much. Her pinpoint light into the darkness of this unknown culture had blown out.
She should have gone slower, should have started with only a moment of telepathic contact. She could be impatient, and she had been. Now she knew how John felt when he "screwed the pooch." It felt like crap. She noticed that Terrence wasn't moving. He'd been knocked straight over and was still in the chair, on the floor. She climbed over the desk toward him, noticing shiny streaks on his face. Blood.
Fragments of the window had pierced his cheeks and neck. He was saying something, but she couldn't hear. She realized an alarm was blaring. She pushed aside her own empty chair and knelt beside him.
"Terrence!"
His wounds didn't appear severe, but he seemed dazed. His eyes danced without focus, and his lips continued to move. She grabbed his shoulders and leaned in close.
"Terrence, what is it? Are you hurt?"
She brought her ear to his lips. They whispered over her skin as his deep voice flowed out.
"I am the machine. I am the machine. I am the machine."
She jerked back, and then the door to her lab burst open, knocking aside the bookcase that had fallen against it. Churlstein shoved his wide body through the opening.
"Sheridan! Are you okay?"
She could barely hear him over the damn alarm. She pointed to Terrence.
"He needs help," she screamed.
"We need to get him out."
Churlstein waded through the mess with his characteristic waddle, several others slipping through the door behind him. Terrence's lips continued to move. If only they would stop. God, what had she done to him? Churlstein's round, moonlike face pushed its way into her field of vision. He helped her pull Terrence up, and they dragged him out into the hallway, into the onlookers.
"We've got to get him to a
doctor," Anna shouted.
Lines of blood from the cuts on Terrence's face had now run down to his moving lips.
"We'll go next door," Churlstein said, dragging Terrence, and also Anna, down the corridor.
His large bulk swayed from side to side as he moved. At first Anna didn't understand where they were going. Then she remembered. Geneva City Hospital. As they left the IPX building and the alarm behind, Terrence's words emerged beneath the sounds of the traffic, repeating, repeating. With Churlstein she dragged Terrence across the boulevard into the emergency room and stammered out that Terrence had been in an explosion. They took him into a curtained cubicle.
"What happened?" Churlstein asked.
She found she had to sit down. There were a couple of chairs in a wide spot in the hallway.
"What was that telepath doing in the lab?"
Churlstein sat beside her, the side of his body pushing into hers. His face wore its usual wrinkled frustration.
"The mouse was destroyed, wasn't it? I saw the isolab."
"Not now, Churlstein, okay?"
She scratched her neck, was surprised to see blood on her hand. Her hand was shaking. She willed it to stop, but it didn't. She rested her forearms in her lap. Found they continued to shake there. She'd been able to break her contact with the mouse this morning because she hadn't been a telepath, because the contact had been weak. The strong telepathic contact had somehow locked Terrence into the machine, locked him and it together in some sort of feedback loop, which he was still unable to escape.
"Dr. Sheridan."
Anna had the sense that time had passed, though she didn't know how much. A woman stood in front of her dressed all in black, like a block of shadow under the harsh lighting. Her body radiated a sense of confidence and strength, from her balanced, shoulder-width stance, to the hands on her hips, to the thick muscles obvious in her shoulders beneath the tailored suit. The Psi Corps insignia was fastened to her lapel. Her dirty- blond hair was pulled back in a tight bun, a small scar on her left cheek in the half-circular shape of the letter D. She looked more like a soldier than a telepath. The only telepaths Anna knew who gave off a similar military feeling were Psi Cops, and she didn't wear the uniform of a Psi Cop. Besides, Psi Cops tracked down rogue telepaths; they didn't minister to sick ones.
"I'm Dr. Sheridan."
"My name is Donne. From Psi Corps."
When Donne spoke, her jaw barely moved, as if it had been wired shut. Her face seemed clenched, sullen.
"You are to give me full access to all information and materials relating to the injury of Terrence Hilliard and the J/Lai expedition."
She took out a paper from her breast pocket and handed it over to Anna. Anna unfolded the paper with trembling hands, found she couldn't focus on its words.
"How did you know we were here?"
"I need to examine Mr. Hilliard," Donne said.
"And I want you to come with me."
Churlstein stood with Anna, tentatively grabbing her elbow as if he would help her along, when Donne turned on him.
"I will talk to Dr. Sheridan alone."
"I'll see you back at the office," Anna said, starting toward the cubicle with Donne.
She turned back and noticed Churlstein staring after them, his round face wrinkled in frustration.
"Tell them not to touch anything at the lab," Anna said.
"I want to record it all before it's cleaned up."
As they approached the curtained-off cubicle, the sound of the doctors, the nurses, the equipment, the bustle, all seemed to fade under the whisper of Terrence's voice. Donne followed behind, as if Anna were some prisoner who might try to escape. Anna pulled the curtain aside, and the words enveloped her. He lay still in the bed, quiescent, reminding Anna of the mouse. Only his lips moved, in a dull, careless way, lines of spittle running down his chin, and his eyes, searching-for something.
"I am the machine. I am the machine."
Beside Terrence's bed stood a doctor, studying the readout on a monitor.
"His physical injuries are superficial. I've treated them. But his mental condition... I've never seen anything like it."
He pointed to the monitor.
"His brain waves show a rigid, perfectly cyclical pattern, totally unlike human brain waves. Yet there is no physiological reason for this abnormality. There is no damage from the explosion to the skull or brain that could possibly be responsible. Is there anything more you can tell me about what happened?"
"Thank you, Doctor," Donne said.
"Psi Corps will transfer him shortly to one of our facilities. See that he is accompanied by a complete report of your findings."
The doctor hesitated.
"Yes, of course. You'll need to complete some paperwork to release the patient."
Then he left, the curtain billowing behind him.
"I am the machine. I am the machine."
Donne approached Terrence, her eyes narrowing with what might have been fear.
"Tell me everything you know."
Anna told her, Donne constantly interrupting with questions. It was obvious Donne knew nothing about archaeology, and very little about any of the other sciences. At the end, Donne seemed no more satisfied than when Anna had begun.
"So you have no idea what planet this 'mouse' originally came from?"
"No."
"And you have no other 'mice' to study?"
"No. Only the quasi-bones I told you about, and the remaining fragments of the mouse."
"I need a fragment for study, as well as some of the bones. And I need all your notes and test results."
"You'll have to go through IPX for that. They own everything."
Anna took a step closer to Terrence.
"I want to help any way I can." Donne turned her harsh, clenched face on Anna.
"You will help any way you can."
She pointed to the monitor.
"These brain waves are the same that you observed from the mouse?"
"I am the machine. I am the machine."
"It's a similar, perfectly cyclical pattern," Anna said.
"Originally the brain waves of the mouse had a lower amplitude and frequency. But as Terrence made contact, I saw them both shoot up to about these levels. It's as if Terrence reflected the mouse's patterns and reinforced them."
Terrence's gloves had been removed, revealing slightly paler skin, pruny fingertips. Anna laid her hand over his. She had stopped shaking.
"Can't you bring him out of this telepathically?"
"Thank you for your suggestion, Dr. Sheridan. That will be all."
Her tone could have frozen helium.
"Will you let me know how he does?"
"He's in the hands of the corps now. That's all you need to know."
Anna twisted her lips, fighting the sudden pressure of tears.
"How did you get here so quickly?"
"I ask the questions; I don't answer them. I'm not the one who turned a telepath's brain to jelly."
And in the silence, the whisper of Terrence's lips.
"I am the machine. I am the machine."
Terrence's eyes continued to dart sightlessly around the room. He didn't see her. He didn't see anything. Anna squeezed his hand and left. She had to go back to the lab, had to record the debris pattern of the explosion, pass it to the engineers to calculate the force of the detonation. She had to collect the fragments. She looked at her watch, suddenly remembered her vacation and John. In fifteen hours she was supposed to be on a transport to see him and celebrate their anniversary. How could she leave now? After all that had happened.
She looked at her watch again. In an hour, she was supposed to be having dinner with Liz. She walked into her lab, distracted, reaching her desk before she realized that all signs of the blast had been cleaned away. It didn't even look like her lab, it was so clean. All furniture and equipment had been restored or replaced, except for the equipment she'd borrowed from other labs, which had simply been removed.<
br />
All the glass and mouse fragments had been swept up. All her books had been restored to her bookcase, out of order. All her reports and test results were gone. Her personal computer was centered neatly on her desk. The only evidence of the explosion was the missing isolab window, which would probably take days to replace.
"You're late for our meeting."
Anna jumped. Dr. Chang was standing in the doorway behind her.
"I'm sorry. I forgot all about it."
She looked at her watch again.
"Are you all right? You have blood on your neck."
She touched the area she'd been scratching.
"It's nothing."
He remained in the doorway.
"I know I've screwed up."
"According to them..."
- Chang flashed his eyes skyward, toward the executives -
"...we both did. But truthfully, no one could have known what would happen. And your theory was right. The mechanism was telepathically controlled. I don't think anyone else would have figured that out. At least not so quickly."
"I know we don't have a lot left to work with, but I don't want to give up. Maybe by studying the fragments I can figure out something that might help that telepath to recover."
"I've been asked to take over the testing," he said in his neutral tone.
A thousand objections ran through Anna's mind, but she didn't feel she had the right to utter any of them. She sat.
"I know you're the best person for this job."
Chang came inside, closed the door behind him.
"I meant what I said. But believe me, it's better you're out of this. Nobody's going to come out on top of this thing. I wish I could pass it to someone else."
His thumb scraped at the callus on his index finger.
"This has nothing to do with archaeology anymore, and everything to do with power."
She sighed.
"Why does everything have to be so political?"
"Because man is a political being."
The comer of her mouth went up.
"Did they calculate how strong the blast was?"
"The equivalent of a half-second burst from a pulse cannon."
He raised a hand before she could ask another question.
Babylon 5 07 - The Shadow Within (Cavelos, Jeanne) Page 2