Voices b5-1

by John Vornholt

  “Harold, Harold!” she called, waving her ticket. “Yoo-hoo! Wait for me!”

  She stepped right in front of a middle-age couple waiting to board and stomped her foot. “Oh, that man? Didn’t he get my message?”

  “Go ahead,” said the man, motioning her to go first.

  “Thank you,” she said with a curtsey.

  She stepped in front of the gate agent and offered him her ticket.

  “I’ll need to run your identicard, too,” said the young man with a sigh.

  “Oh,” she answered, trying to sound nonplussed. “I didn’t think they carded you on this end.”

  “Just for today. Extra security precautions. That’s why the line’s so backed up.” He took her card and ran it through. When he handed the card back, he didn’t bother to call her Ms. Nelson, but he did wave her through.

  Twenty meters away, midway down the line, Harriman Gray clicked his tongue. “Did you see that woman cut in line? Some people have no class.”

  “Hmm,” murmured Garibaldi. He had been watching the two Psi Cops roust all the young, attractive women. Some job they had. He wondered whether either of them had been part of the execution squad that had wasted Emily Crane in the wee hours.

  Their patience was eventually rewarded, and Garibaldi and Gray boarded the Bradley. This was a big transport with a full complement, as the jump between Earth and Mars was a popular one, and Garibaldi panned the sea of faces as they made their way to the back of the craft. Gray didn’t even question the seating rule anymore. For once, they settled in at the very last row, and Garibaldi stretched his long legs in the aisle.

  Talia had been studying her identicard for several seconds, wondering if it was still a pass to freedom or a death certificate. She had used it four times, the last unexpectedly, and she would be asked for it again when she disembarked at Mars. She didn’t have any other card she could use, and they wouldn’t let her off without it—so she was going to use it a fifth time, like it or not. She hadn’t planned to spend the entire flight in anguish over her identicard, but that’s how it looked.

  Then she saw two Psi Cops enter the transport and stop near the front of the cabin. Talia slouched in her seat, glad she had picked a row toward the rear of the craft, about two-thirds of the way back. She was in the last seat, against the bulkhead, and she leaned away from the aisle and put her chin in her hand to hide her face.

  But the Psi Cops hadn’t come on board searching for her; they were passengers traveling to Mars. They were among the last to find their seats. Great, thought Talia, two Psi Cops sitting a few rows away from her and a bum identicard that she couldn’t use anymore. She gnawed on her thumbnail and wondered what else could go wrong.

  “It’s a full ship,” observed Mr. Gray.

  “There are still two Psi Cops,” muttered Garibaldi. “Damn, they were beginning to get on my nerves back there. Who the hell do they think they are?”

  “Psi Cops chasing a rogue telepath,” said Gray. “You think we’re only hard on you folks, the nontelepaths. We’re much harder on ourselves. By running, Ms. Winters brought this on herself, remember that.”

  “We’ve got to find her first,” vowed Garibaldi, although he realized that if hundreds of Psi Cops and a whole planetful of police couldn’t find her, what chance did he have? Maybe her male companion was good; maybe he had gotten her out of it. After all, there was a lot of space out there, and maybe she could find a safe chunk of it. Garibaldi wished her well if she was running for daylight. But he would miss her.

  “Please prepare for departure,” said a computer voice. “Fasten seat restraints; stow all documents and carry-on items.”

  A few meters away, Talia relaxed in her chair. It was definite now—if she was going to be arrested, it would be on Mars. Of course, that would just feed the publicity mill that was grinding out stories about her connections to Mars. It couldn’t be helped. This nightmare wanted to create its own internal logic, and she had to go with it.

  Garibaldi settled back, crossed his arms, and closed his eyes. He told Gray, “Wake me up when we’re there.”

  Halfway through the trip, Garibaldi got jostled awake by the man sitting across the aisle from him, who got up to stretch his legs. Gray was snoring softly to the right of him, and the lights in the cabin had been dimmed by half. Most people were asleep, but a handful were standing, milling about. He was just about to fall back to sleep when he saw the lithe figure of a woman moving about seven rows in front of him. She was just the type he liked, classy and cultured, and she was wearing a pantsuit that hugged her slim torso. She was wearing a scarf and dark glasses, and he wondered if perhaps she wasn’t older than he imagined. Ah, well, even if she was eighty, she still looked pretty good.

  You pig, quit staring at her, he told himself. But the woman had almost struggled to the end of her row and was about to hit the aisle, so he thought he would hold on to catch her rear action. Garibaldi wasn’t disappointed—it was the finest can he had seen in a long time. In fact, it was reminiscent. He sat up in his seat and stared at the woman’s buttocks as she sauntered away from him. Then he gripped Gray’s arm.

  “Wake up!” he whispered. “Wake up!”

  “What is it? What is it?” mumbled Gray.

  He bent so close to Gray that it probably looked as if he was kissing him. “She’s here on this transport with us,” he whispered, “Talia.”

  “You saw her? You made positive identification?”

  “Well,” admitted Garibaldi, “all I saw was her rear end, but that’s enough.”

  Gray wrinkled his nose. “Really, Garibaldi, that is disgusting! You see a woman’s rear end, and you fantasize that you can identify Ms. Winters from her rear end? I hadn’t realized you were such close associates.”

  “Trust me,” claimed Garibaldi, “I have been watching that can very closely for the past year, and I know it by heart. But I want you to verify the ID—we’ll be able to see her face when she comes back.”

  “I don’t need to stare at her,” said Gray with distaste. “All I have to do is scan her.”

  “No, don’t do that. There are two Psi Cops on board, and I don’t want to alert them. If she gets a mind-scan, she’ll think it’s them and she’ll freak. The best we can do is let those two guys get off and try to approach her where we have some privacy.

  Gray shook his head. “What am I doing? I’m talking as if you could identify a woman from her bottom!”

  “Just look at her when she comes back, all right?”

  Gray shook his head with disbelief and began to shut his eyes. That didn’t last long, because Garibaldi elbowed him in the ribs.

  “There she is!” he whispered.

  With a look of contempt on his face, Mr. Gray peered around the seat in front of him. Garibaldi was holding the seat card with flight instructions in front of his face, in case she looked his way. The woman in the blue pantsuit stepped briskly back into her row, and she looked up only once. When she did, Garibaldi saw the chiseled features—a little more gaunt than before—and the determined eyes—darting and wary behind the sunglasses. She was a frightened woman, running on the edge, and he fought the temptation to leap out of his seat and wrap his arms around her. Hang in there, Talia, he told her with his thoughts.

  She glanced up again, looking puzzled, as she made her way over people’s knees to her seat. Finally she collapsed into the seat and molded herself into the shadows along the bulkhead.

  “All right,” admitted Gray, “that is either her or a very close proximity. And I’ll pay more attention to women’s rear ends in the future.”

  “You do that,” whispered Garibaldi. “How should we handle this?”

  “As you say, if we approach her in this crowded cabin, it might cause a scene. I suppose we have no choice but to wait until we get off the ship, then play it by ear. I suppose, if she’s gotten this far, she has a fake identicard.”

  “Can you tell if there’s someone with her?” asked Garibaldi.


  “Somebody is sitting next to her. But all the seats are full, so that doesn’t mean anything.”

  The man who was sitting across the aisle from Garibaldi chose that moment to return to his seat. The security chief smiled pleasantly at the passenger, knowing this was the end of his candid conversation with Gray. Besides, there was nothing left to say. They just had to sit tight until they could get Talia alone.

  But at least they had found her! She was still in trouble, but she had friends around her.

  Talia glanced behind her, thinking what a weird sensation that had been. She had been concentrating so hard on blocking her thoughts as she walked by the two Psi Cops that she had been stunned by a thought coming from the other direction. She hadn’t been able to read it, because she had been blocking, but it troubled her to think that someone behind her was also watching her. Thinking about her.

  She wanted to stare into the crowd of faces behind her, but she didn’t dare. What if they were still watching? Really, was there anybody back there? It was probably just some guy giving her a leer, like Garibaldi always gave her on the lift. She even missed that part of Babylon 5. What was she doing to herself, wondered Talia, letting her paranoia get to her? Hadn’t she come this far without a hitch? She would make it all the way. The worst part of running, she decided, was that the paranoia never let up. It only got worse.

  Talia tried to sleep, knowing she wouldn’t be able to.

  Garibaldi sat nervously through the reentry into Mars’ thin atmosphere. The transport was capable of docking on the Red Planet, with its fraction of Earth’s gravity, so they didn’t have to transfer from an orbital spacedock. As the long journey was about to come to an end, there was excited conversation in the cabin, and people moved about in their seats, anxious to be off the crowded vessel. But not him. The safe confines of the shuffle had been just fine; now they would have to chance the craziness of Mars. As far as he knew, Talia considered him the enemy, and she might freak when she saw him.

  He could feel Gray tensing beside him, too. The timing of their actions would have to be perfect. There could be Psi Cops at the dock, eyeing everyone, rousting the attractive women. Maybe somebody would be meeting her—maybe the man she had traveled with. Or maybe that man was somewhere else on the craft, making it look as if they weren’t traveling together.

  No, he decided, it would be best to let Talia get through the security check-in alone, then they would make contact. But they had to be ready to move immediately if things went wrong. They might have to fight for jurisdiction over her. Despite being so close to her, he felt far away from Talia. What was her mental state like after the bombing, the accusations, and then running for her life? Not good, he imagined.

  “This is where it all began for me,” mused Mr. Gray. “About a week and a half ago, I got off this flight, and Mr. Bester was there waiting for me.”

  “Well, let’s hope there’s not a repeat of that,” muttered Garibaldi.

  They heard a heavy clanging and a thud as the air-lock mechanism latched on to the ship’s hull. Everyone else heard it, too, and they rose from their seats in unison, ready to bolt from the transport as quickly as possible.

  “Welcome to Mars,” said a synthesized voice. “The time is 13:11, and the temperature is 379 degrees Celsius. It is hot and dry. Please watch your step as Mars has thirty-eight percent of the gravity of Earth.”

  The people in Talia’s row began to file out, but she hung back, stricken with fear. She knew her identicard was going to get her arrested, and she couldn’t go through that again! Not the lights, the accusations, the raised fists, and the angry shouts from people who wanted to punish her’ Talia’s heart was starting to do flip-flops in her rib cage, and she couldn’t make her legs move. She felt ill, physically ill. Come on, she told herself, you’ve felt ill for days now. If this is the end of the race, then so be it. Face it like a woman.

  For a moment, Garibaldi got excited, thinking that Talia would hang back in the cabin long enough for him and Gray to approach her there. But she suddenly got a determined look on her face and leaped from her seat, inserting herself forcefully into the herd of passengers moving toward the hatch. With maybe twenty people between them, be and Gray had to push and shove just to keep up. Even then, Talia’s lithe body moved through the crowd faster than they could.

  “She’s getting away!” whispered Garibaldi.

  “I can always send her a message,” said Gray, “as long as she’s in my line of sight.”

  “Hold off,” ordered Garibaldi.

  At least the two Psi Cops were already off the vessel, Talia noticed as she worked her way down the line. She hoped they got waved through the check-in and were long gone, but there was no such luck. When she reached the gate area, she could see the Psi Cops standing patiently to show their identicards to security. There were two more Psi Cops standing beyond the barriers, waiting for them.

  Once again, Talia almost bolted, but there was no place to go. She held up her identicard and looked at it, hoping that Brother Lizard had outdone himself when he had chosen Frieda Nelson as her identity. Maybe Frieda was the stay-at-home type who never went anywhere, never had any call to use her real identicard. Maybe the system was not yet wise to there being two Frieda Nelsons. Right, she thought cynically, and maybe she would live to see her next birthday.

  Behind her, two men inched forward, straining their necks to see what was happening. They were so close yet so far away, thought Garibaldi. With a few strides, he could touch her—and scare the daylights out of her. Her shoulders were hunched, and she moved as if she had aged ten years. More than anything, he just wanted to wrap his arms around Talia and tell her it was okay. There would be a happy ending.

  He only hoped that was true.

  The two Psi Cops met their friends, and there were hearty handshakes among gloved hands. To everyone’s relief, they wandered off, apparently not on duty and not particularly interested in their fellow passengers.

  Talia swallowed what was left of the saliva in her mouth. She would get through this—she would. The card would work one last time. Somehow, the people in the line in front of her melted away, and she found herself gliding forward in the light gravity, confidently presenting her card to the waiting security guard. The dock area was so much like B5’s dock that it almost felt like home. Home, she thought wistfully. There’s no place like home, except when they take it away from you.

  “Thank you,” said the security guard, taking the card from her trembling hand. “Are you all right, miss?”

  She sniffled and gripped her hands to her chest. “Yes, just a bit air-sick.”

  “I get that way myself,” remarked the guard pleasantly. He ran her card through the slot in his scanning device, and her heart and her breath held perfectly still.

  “Hmm,” he said puzzledly. “You are Ms. Frieda Nelson, aren’t you?”

  “Yes,” she gasped.

  “From Eugene, Oregon?”

  “Last time I looked.” She tried to sound disdainful, but she felt as if she was going to be stricken by a heart attack.

  “Could you please step to the side for a moment while I finish with these other passengers.” His tone wasn’t so pleasant anymore, but it wasn’t angry either. “There’s an irregularity on your card. These glitches happen.” To make sure she wasn’t going anywhere, he put the card in his pocket.

  Talia stood to the side, as ordered, and she wondered if she dared to send him a telepathic suggestion to the effect that her card was really okay. That was the sort of thing Mr. Bester could do with ease. Unfortunately, she felt so shaky and distressed that she didn’t know if she could concentrate well enough to pull it off. Well, nothing ventured nothing gained. Just as she had screwed up her courage to send the guard a message, an outside voice invaded her mind. Very clearly, it stated, “You are among friends. Do not panic.”

  Then, a monstrous explosion ripped the building!

  Chapter 20

  Talia screamed, along with hund
reds of others, as she staggered to the floor. She saw a flaming refreshment cart go rolling down the middle of the mall, spewing great clouds of choking, black smoke. The security guard was trying to hold back a panicked line of passengers while yelling into his link, and he wasn’t paying any attention to her. She jumped to her feet and dashed through the smoke.

  She bumped hard into a strange man, who wrapped his arms around her. Talia shrieked at his bizarre appearance, but then she realized he was a regular man wearing goggles and a breathing mask. She looked closer and saw his long white hair, like the mane of an old lion, and the devil-may-care smile under the mask.

  “Hiya, Talia!” said his muffled voice.

  “Uncle Ted,” she gasped, and she dissolved into a coughing fit.

  “This gas won’t last forever,” he warned, grabbing her arm and yanking her down the corridor. She staggered after him, her senses overcome by the smoke, shouts, and noise. Then a competing voice sounded in her head.

  “Talia!” it called. It was a real voice, yelling above all the others. “Wait for me!”

  She pulled away from Uncle Ted and whirled around. A telepathic voice popped into her head, saying, “Do not panic, Talia. It’s Garibaldi and a friend.”

  Her uncle regained a grip on her arm and tried to pull her along. “What’s the matter with you!” he growled.

  “Stop!” she demanded. “I’m not alone!”

  Two men came charging out of the smoke, hands over their mouths, coughing. A Psi Cop rushed by in the other direction, waving his PPG. Uncle Ted drew his own PPG and looked as if he was about to blast Garibaldi and Gray.

  “No,” she said, grabbing his arm. “Please wait.”

  “I don’t want to shoot them!” He pulled on her arm, but Garibaldi reached her that same moment and started to pull on her free hand. The bare contact sent a shock of distracting intimacies through her mind.

  There was no time for greetings or explanations, and Talia knew it. She pulled her hand away and saw the shock of the contact register in Garibaldi’s eyes. “We’ve got to go with my uncle now,” she told Garibaldi. “Don’t speak, just follow.”