Voices - Vornholt John. Страница 14

The muscle-bound Narn lifted a squirming, black-suited Psi Cop over his head and bounced him off the bar. He rolled into a glass shelf and brought a row of bottles crashing down all around him.

“That is enough!” barked John Sheridan, stepping in front of G’Kar and pushing him back.

“Unhand me, Captain,” snarled the alien, his spotted head pulsating with agitated veins.

“No!” said Sheridan. “This is a public place, and we have guests aboard the station. If you want to fight someone, then how about you and I step outside?”

“Wait, sir!” called Garibaldi, charging into the hushed casino. He pushed his way through the crowd that was pressing around the action.

“G’Kar, what’s the matter with you?” he demanded. Londo peered over the bar at the bloodied Psi Cop and pointed back at G’Kar. “I will help you press charges against this ruffian, if you like.”

The Narn shook his head and got flustered. “Well, it … it was an overpowering feeling I got from him that he wanted to kill me.”

“All you got was a thought?” asked Sheridan.

“It was a very clear threat,” answered G’Kar.

The security chief snapped his fingers and pointed at his staff. “Get a medteam on that man.”

“Already called,” the officer replied.

Garibaldi glared around at the blank-faced telepaths surrounding him. “Were any of you with the wounded man before the fight started?”

A young female Psi Cop stepped forward, the black looking good on her. “Hoffman offered to bet us that he could plant a thought in the Narn’s mind, as a sort of experiment. I don’t know what he mistakenly put there, but the Narn jumped out of his seat and commenced to pulverize him.”

The medteam, led by Dr. Stephen Franklin, rushed into the casino, and this distraction killed the possibility of further interrogation. Captain Sheridan leaned over the bar and noticed that the Psi Cop was bloodied but moving about, even fighting the medics who were waving smelling salts under his nose.

The captain narrowed his eyes at Ambassador G’Kar and was still angry at the Narn for starting this battle. Or did he start it?

“Listen, you hotshots!” called Garibaldi, demanding the attention back. “Even counting all of you, humans are the minority on this station. We also had an incident last night, so be careful!”

“Rest assured, that man will be punished!” crowed a voice from the back. Heads turned as Mr. Bester shouldered his way through the crowd. He peered over the bar at the wounded man with a smile of satisfaction. “He will be stripped of all his rights and duties.” Bester smiled. “After a proper hearing, of course.”

The Psi Cop turned magnanimously to G’Kar. “My dear Ambassador, please don’t allow this incident to spoil your evening. Even telepaths sometimes forget that every gift has a price. Their price is responsibility and discipline. Gambling, abuse of power—these are things we do not tolerate.”

Bester bowed and clicked his heels. “Please accept my sincerest apologies, Ambassador G’Kar.”

Londo leaned against the bar and muttered, “Oh, brother.”

But G’Kar smiled and bowed, looking like he was imitating Bester. “Apologies accepted. Communications are our greatest difficulty, I have always said.”

“I hope you’re going to attend the reception tonight,” said Bester.

“Why, yes, I am.”

Dr. Frankin poked his head above the bar and told Sheridan, “He’s sedated. He has a broken wrist and a lot of cuts, but his injuries don’t appear to be serious.”

“Throw him in the brig,” suggested Bester.

Franklin frowned. “I think medlab would be better.”

“Medlab it is,” ordered Sheridan. “With restraints and a guard.”

The doctor nodded, and they lifted the unconscious Psi Cop onto a stretcher and took him out. This gave Captain Sheridan a chance to look around at the strange gathering. Garibaldi looked exasperated and exhausted; Londo was eagerly absorbing a description of the fight from the bartender; and Bester and G’Kar acted like old college chums. Strangest of all, thought the captain, he was surrounded by a roomful of humans who seemed more alien and unpredictable than the aliens on the station.

Sheridan realized he had been quite mad to allow this conference on B5. The longer it went on, the more likely something dreadful would happen. There was just too much tinder, too many matches lying around. He heard a voice in his mind, that same little voice that alerts the captain just before his ship hits an iceberg or an asteroid. The danger, said the voice, was just under the surface, waiting for the right moment to rip them apart.

Garibaldi and Ivanova had tried to warn him, thought the captain, but that didn’t do them much good now. He had pigheadedly plunged ahead and let Psi Corps bring their conference, and all their baggage, right to his doorstep. Their first site had been bombed, as if that shouldn’t be hint enough! Despite all their hard work and dedication, B5 was by design a sieve, a zoo without cages. Whatever was he thinking about?

Well, it was time to make amends and stop depending on his staff to get him out of this mess. “Garibaldi!” he called.

“Yes, sir?” The security chief didn’t bother to salute. 

“Go back to your quarters and sleep until you have to get dressed for the reception. I figure that will give you almost three hours.”

“But, sir,” said Garibaldi, “there’s so much going on here …”

Sheridan lifted his hand. “Link, have all calls for Mr. Garibaldi routed to Officer Lou Welch until twenty-hundred hours. He will assume Garibaldi’s duties. Captain Sheridan out.” He looked sternly at Garibaldi. “Before you go, is everything all right for the reception on Blue-16?”

“We’re shutting down the cafe in about an hour, and we’ll reopen with full security.”

“Good,” answered Sheridan. “Tomorrow I want everyone searched who is going in and out of the conference rooms. 

Garibaldi looked thoughtful. “We were going to do a hand-scan on anyone who entered Green-12. Plus, we were going to eyeball for Psi Corps insignias. Did you have something more elaborate in mind?”

“I don’t want a strip search,” said Sheridan, “but look inside handbags, briefcases, backpacks, handheld stuff. Pat them down, if need be.”

“That’s fine with me,” agreed Garibaldi. “I was going to suggest it, but I didn’t think they would let us get away with it.”

“As long as it’s by the book,” said Sheridan, “let’s use whatever means are at our disposal. This may discourage them from going in and out of Green-12 too much.”

“What are we looking for, sir?”

The captain smiled wistfully. “Some peace of mind. But I don’t think we’ll find it until they leave.”

He hated prowling the corridor waiting for her, but he didn’t know how else to approach Susan, without making it look something like a coincidence. Fortunately, Harriman Gray was one of those people who blended in. He didn’t blend in very well when he was playing the odious role of the hard-boiled telepath, ready to leaf through a person’s mind like a nosy visitor snoops through a person’s medicine cabinet; but he could blend in well enough when there were crowds and a swirl of people.

The longer he was around them, the more Gray liked the alien rhythms and voices of Babylon 5. It made him feel more normal to know that he couldn’t read the minds of most of the people here. To them, he was just another alien. 

So he circled the corridors where she had to cross, hoping he wouldn’t miss her when his back was turned. Perhaps she would get a bite at her favorite restaurant between shifts. She was working a double shift, he was certain, until all the conference attendees were safely aboard the station, where they became somebody else’s problem. That was the way Susan worked, making sure there were no lapses on her watch. She hated all of them with a passion, but she would guide their ships to safety as if they were carrying her own mother.

The thought of Susan’s mother brought Gray up short. That was the root of her hatred for Psi Corps, and was there anything he could do about it? Would it do any good to apologize? Or to tell Susan how lousy it made him feel to be tarred with the same feather as the Psi Police? Was there anything at all he could say that would erase her years of pain and hatred? No. Not as long as he wore the Psi Corps insignia on his lapel.

What was he doing this for? Why couldn’t he come to his senses and forget about Susan? There were plenty of women who would welcome a man with his prestige and career potential, women who would consider him a catch. Well, maybe.

The problem was, Harriman Gray had always wanted the wrong thing, the thing he couldn’t have. He had wanted to be a soldier, before his psi abilities had manifested themselves. After that path had been taken away from him, he had wanted to serve the military in a liaison capacity, going home every night to his tidy apartment. Instead, he was shunted from one high-level assignment to another, each one more surreal than the one before it. Now he loved a woman who hated him. Sheesh, thought Gray, maybe he was more neurotic than Bester. While he considered giving up and joining his colleagues at the casino, he caught a glimpse of a gray uniform dashing into the sweets shop. His heart leaped as quickly as his feet, as he hurried into the shop after her.

“I’ll take one of those,” said Ivanova, pointing to a dark confection.

“Susan,” he said.

Her back stiffened, and she refused to turn around. “Are you following me?”

“Yes,” he admitted. “I don’t suppose you’re going to the reception later on?”

“No.”

“That’s why I had to follow you.”

Susan sighed and finally turned around to look at him. He was reminded of the way his big sister used to look whenever she was annoyed with him.

“You know, Harriman, by the captain’s orders, I’m not supposed to be talking to you. Or any of your friends.”

“I know,” Gray admitted. “I’ve read all the travel advisories. ‘Do not visit Down Below or the Alien Sector. Do not travel alone. And do not speak to Commander Ivanova.’”

She smiled in spite of her herself. “I hope there’s a suitable punishment for doing so.”

“Speaking of punishment,” said Gray excitedly, “did you hear that Ambassador G’Kar beat the stuffing out of a reprehensible Psi Cop named Hoffman? In front of everybody!”

Ivanova smiled. “No, I didn’t hear that. We’re all doing our part to make this an enjoyable conference.”