The Paths Not Taken
//Private Thoughts or mental argument - when one person is trying to decide something.//
~Emphasis marks~
~~~~ scene change - small (or POV change)
******** scene change - large (or POV change)
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The Day of Terror Part 1 (I guess it's a 'missing episode')
(I don't know how this started, I guess it just started in my brain someplace and the only way to get rid of it was to write it down . . . so here ya go. This is something that I'm pretty sure would NEVER EVER actually be shown on B5. My apologies to Pat Tallman. *Grovels*)
Once again, a day Anton Christov wasn't looking forward to. Not that he expected it to be a hard day, just a long one, with way too much paperwork. The 34th week of training had begun, and it was now wednesday, another day that was one solid whack of written exams. The other officers had been joking mysteriously about the 'practice session', and had started a semi-official betting pool on who'd fail it. The junior officers, who'd not been long finished training, had only shuddered. "Whaddya mean, they got her to do it again?" "Don't ask me, pal, I guess the Chief's a good talker or something. After the last time, I was sure she'd never agree . . ." "What are you two talking about?" And the ones done their training had suddenly clammed up tight. Well, the remaining 23 of 25 recruits would find out in a few minutes. What was scheduled was mostly written tests on what they should have learned by now. It was what wasn't scheduled that had the trainees nervous.
They filed into the classroom, taking their usual seats. Chief Allan was standing by a front table with covered stacks of tests and a few other items. He was talking with two women, one of which Christov recognized after a few seconds of studying her face. The redheaded woman who'd come aboard the week before had her uniform on. It looked quite stunning on her, accenting the curves she had. The Captain was watching from the back of the room, ready to assist in the supervising. Christov wasn't the only one watching the people at the front. Half the class was surreptitiously watching the (quite beautiful) ranger who quietly listened to the Chief as she leaned against the wall, her eyes moving between Allan and the other woman, dressed in a light blue jacket accessorized by a characteristic gold pin and black gloves. The pair talked animatedly, discussing an old Vid that had played the night before. Allan was apparently trying to convince the telepath of Curly's superiority to Moe, based on some of the gags from the Vid, but the brunette was sticking to her own ideas. Then the chronometer on the wall beeped at them, and the two women departed through a second door into the back room. Christov resisted the temptation to jab the fellow next to him with his elbow, the young fool had almost been drooling as he watched the ranger leave. "Mind your manners, Mr. Charles," he muttered out of the corner of his mouth.
"Like you weren't looking at her, too. Besides, ~I'm~ not married." He grouched back. "What's the ranger here for? They said the res. teep would be assisting today, but there was nothing about a ranger who looked like THAT. How's a guy supposed to do any dreaming with a damn teep around?"
Christov had been about to retort on Charles' being the second lowest place to pass in the betting pool when the Chief cleared his throat, bring the whisperings to a close and the attention to the front.
"Never, ever assume ANYTHING about ANYONE in any situation. Today's foremost, cardinal rule. Now, everything I say today has already been told to you. This is just a quick refresher, a topic here, and a topic there. You had better already know it. I'm sure you all noticed our two assistants for today." He paused as he watched for the nods of affirmation.
"Commercial Telepaths are rated P5. That's the lowest 'useful' rating, accord to the Psi Corps. Their range is a maximum of 20, 25 meters. But that's just for sensing you, your basic emotions. A monk could pass 10 meters away and never be noticed. An intending rapist would get nailed at 25, if she was paying attention. But thoughts are very short-range. This means that if a P5 is more than a few feet away, they can't pick up any thoughts from you, no matter how hard they try. Strong emotions, yes, but not specific thoughts. The resident telepath, sent here by the Corps back in '57, is rated P5. I know some of you don't like telepaths, but she is invaluable to our work, so just remember that if she's more than 8, 9 feet away, she won't pick up any thoughts from you. She doesn't scan anyone without permission anyway, so don't you dare be rude to her. There are rules for both sides."
"Trust your eyes, but trust your mind more. This means DO YOUR HOMEWORK. If you've got time before a situation arises, learn the background info on those involved if at all possible. E.G. Don't think that just because someone's wearing a black outfit with a pretty blue jewel that he is a ranger - if you haven't checked. Speaking of checking, I'm assuming all of you have heard of the practice session today?"
A chorus of nods.
"Good. Now try to keep your jaws off your desks. Full body searches." He didn't pause as a couple of younger recruit's mouths opened, their eyes darting towards the back door. "There are all sorts of nifty ways to hide things on a person, in clothing, in a person, etc. You've already gone over the theory. They'll be one practice session per trainee, between today's written tests. You've been forewarned that the res. teep ~will~ be in the room with you and the ranger who's agreed to assist. If you get to feeling unprofessional - and I'm sure ~every~ ~single~ ~one~ of you will be tempted at least a little - do NOT act that way. Don't start imagining 'things' while doing a search, if you get distracted, you could get killed. The fact that a perp needs to be searched is already in indication of trouble. We had to do FAR too much apologizing to our searchee during the last session when one recruit decided to start groping. As for the searcher, she spent 3 days in medlab before taking the next transport back to Io. If the teep picks up on you getting overly excited, I get told. If you get violent, I get told."
"If that happens, don't worry about it during your day off tomorrow, because I will ~personally~ escort anyone who gets even the least bit violent off the station before I eat breakfast."
"The search itself." The Chief pointed to the front table, where 4 objects rested beside the stacks of written exams. He picked up a retracted minbari fighting pike, clicked it out then in twice before setting it back down. "You've had this nifty gizmo in weapons training a bit. You'll be getting more practice in defense from it, should you pass."
He moved to a small, flat white packet, less than an inch square. "This has got sand in it. For the exercise today, pretend it's the illegal drug Dust. There's enough of it here to hook several users, or kill a human with an overdose."
Next Allan picked up a 4-inch, slender, slightly curved blade, holding it by its standard steel grip. "This knife is small enough to be easily concealed, especially if the handle were removed and replaced with something less common. But it could easily take out eyes, remove ears or fingers, open an artery, or punch into your skull."
Then the Chief moved to a very familiar weapon. "Standard PPG. Standard energy cap. Common, often deadly, easy to use. Not to difficult to find, if it's intact." He took less than seven seconds to dismantle it into unrecogniseable parts, laying them on the table for all to see. "In pieces, the scanners can't pick it up so easily. Scanners are in fact quite easy to fool, but we'll get to that next week. If you haven't memorized a PPG's components well enough to identify them instantly, do so by the end of the week, or else."
Then the Captain spoke up from her perch at the rear of the classroom. "These are just 4 possibilities. The person you search today will have these plus a few, or no, extra surprises. A perp won't tell you how many surprises they've got on them. Count this day as a bonus: you've got a minimum to look for."
Allan took another turn. "When doing a search, let the individual know their rights, and the reason for the search. Tell them whether it's routine or due to suspicion."
"Do NOT use more force than necessary. If someone is cooperating, there shouldn't be any bruising afterwards, no damage to persons or to property. Minimize delays and trouble, especially today. We had to pay the teep's highest rate for this, and she doesn't come cheap at the best of times. The resources department would rather she didn't have to get overtime pay. If someone in your custody gets injured, they'll probably file a report. On you. Every report is passed on by the computer to me, and to the station commander." He pointed to Ivanova. "No-one is above the law."
The captain continued for him. "This part of training had to be delayed for a couple of reasons, mostly because we were trying not to get fragged in the civil war, then cleaning up the mess afterwards. The recent invasion attempt by the red-helmets took out a lot of your fellow officers, and way too many pilots. We'd prefer if every one of you passed, we need more than the number here to get back up to strength. That's why some of you were working customs already, with a senior officer along, and when processing the violent arrests you weren't by yourselves either. Anyone who passes this week should be able to handle the responsibility alone, but don't forget to call for backup if it's needed."
"But first", the Chief added, "there comes the question of trust. Mine of you, yours of each other, yours of the senior officers, you get the picture. You won't be getting any results back today or tomorrow, unless you really fubar it up. Your main scores will be tallied tonight, and the final results will be available friday, after 18 hundred. Not before. So don't ask. Your last name will be posted on the board, along with the usual pass or fail mark. Exact grading won't be up until the end of the week, with the scores from other tests you have been and will be doing, assuming you pass. Welcome, everyone, to the Day of Terror. Let's get started."
"Why's it called that?" Mr. Charles whispered as the tests began to be handed out.
"You'll find out during the debriefing at the end. Stop talking." Allan reprimanded.
Allan and the Captain handed out the first set of written tests, and called one of the recruits, sending him into the second room while Christov and the 21 others still in the main room started written question after written question. Christov hated reports, any paperwork, but had long since accepted it as necessary evil. It certainly wasn't hard, although the expressions on some of his classmates seemed to indicate otherwise. A little over 20 minutes later, the first recruit returned, began his written exams, and the second was called up.
Not that Christov was especially worried. He'd done searches before, unlike most of the others in the room. He'd been in city-based police forces since he turned 21, more than 20 years before. More than half his life. Now, too restless for retirement, he had asked his wife and surviving son, Andrew, now 14, if they'd come with him to try again. And so they'd eventually ended up on Babylon 5.
Christov had over two decades of Police experience. He knew how to trust his instincts, how to shoot, how NOT to shoot, how to pay attention, how to take and give orders. What Christov hadn't known was how to deal with aliens on a daily basis. Customs duty was completely new to him. Not to mention half a hundred technical gizmos. Alien weapons, links, where arteries on a non-human were so that he could stop them from bleeding to death before the doctors could arrive. How to recognise certain key phrases in a dozen languages. How to say "the restroom is that way" to 23 species' children.
So Christov had, the same as any non-earthforce new hire, started the 47-week training period. He was a quick study, despite his age. He'd slowly but surely overtaken the younger, hotheaded recruits in grades, standing, and respect from the troops. He'd likely make a sector head, with the better pay and larger quarters, before the next year was over. He'd even gotten a few nods from the entirely somber Chief. Comparatively great praise. //Not entirely somber . . . he'd sure smiled at the redheaded woman that day in customs last week, apparently the same ranger who'd been talking with Allan and the telepath. No wonder Miss Alexander had *seemed* important, she *was* important!//
Although he wasn't sure exactly how Allan had managed to convince the young ranger to be strip-searched by the 23 remaining security trainees. He didn't really want to know. His usually suspicious nature had told him not to ask that question. He returned his wandering attention to the papers in front of him, completely the questions with ease, one after the other. He heard his name being called, covered up his exam, and entered the second room.
He took it in with one easy glance as Allan clicked the door closed behind him. Standard detention room, about 30 feet square, a table and chair at one side where the bored-looking telepath was playing solitaire with a deck of cards. Also on the table was a notepad, restraint remover, and a timer, which clicked on as he entered. The ranger was sitting crosslegged in the center of the floor, her hands cuffed behind her back. She was on a warming-mat to help ward off the chill of the room while being searched.
Christov apologized while removing the cuffs, and asked per procedure if she was aware of her rights.
"Oh, get it over with already. This day is going to long enough as it is." She muttered, rubbing the circulation back into her wrists.
He recited the rights to her anyway, during the initial pat-down, then 'helped' her out of the short brown tunic, finding the pike in a hidden pocket. //That hadn't seemed to be there . . . seemed there was nothing on her. Odd. Shows how much the pat does.// Some of the PPG components were in with the belt, others were attached to her undershirt, looking all-the-worlds like a normal set of accessories. He assembled them, slowly ensuring he had all the parts. //Speaking of odd,// he thought as he removed the energy cap from //ouch, this must have been damn cold!// it's hiding place, //isn't the teep to far away? Must be a good 15 feet between us . . . oh, yeah, emotions go further. Is that all the boss needs to grade? I can do this.//
The 'Dust' packet was gently removed from it's skin adhesive on the underside on her right breast, just next to the ribs. He mentally stomped down on some very unprofessional observations about her body. //Damn, she's a fine looking woman. I wonder if sh- augh! Don't think that, Anton! The boss'll fire me! So . . . where's the kni- oh. Duh.//
He placed his hand on the top of her head, grasping what had seemed to be a decorative comb holding her long firey tresses into an elegant french knot, and pulled out the comb's handle. //The blade had been holding her hair,// he realised, //not a new trick but it's a safe bet at least one of the younger recruits won't remember to check.//
He didn't see the handsignal she flicked to the brunette playing cards, but he did hear the telepath say out loud in return, "Not yet, but there's one in every batch."
Christov blinked. The teep ~had~ heard him. He moved his fingers along the searchee's scalp, testing the last place to hide something on/near the surface.
His fingernails picked of a coil of NMF - near mono filament. Very nasty stuff, could cleanly sever limbs with ease when used properly. Very illegal, very dangerous. He added it to the pile on the table, did a final once-over, and clicked off the timer as the telepath added some notes to her pad on his performance.
Seven minutes, fourty-one seconds.
The ranger blinked big brown eyes at him as he returned her clothing and apologized again. "So . . . can I ask how I did?"
"Better than average, by far. Your previous experience is paying off again. Zack figured you'd do well anyway."
"Thank you, miss, ma'am." He nodded at them, handing the ranger her belt, which she put on then adjusted slightly.
"Why am I the ma'am and you get to be the miss?" The woman at the table piped up as she went over to help the ranger re-wrap the knife in her hair.
"Beauty before age?"
"Hey, I'm not the one who'll be pushing 40 in a few more years!"
Christov mentioned her being addressed as 'Miss Alexander' by G'Nol when she had arrived a week before, in Customs. //Pushing 40? She doesn't look it!//
She flashed a fast grin at the telepath, who just sighed and returned to her solitaire game. "He's got a daughter about my age, that's why. And grandkids."
Christov waited until she'd finished re-hiding everything, then cuffed her hands back in the restraints and returned to the written exams.
Not counting a silent 20 minutes they spent on lunch and a restroom break, it would take just over 7 hours to complete the day. Finishing early, Christov spent a few minutes wishing for his own set of cards, the rechecked his answers twice before the last trainee was finished with the back room. A few like him, all experienced, had taken about 10 minutes. One had taken over 40 minutes, coming out with an expression that said he knew he'd failed. Finally it was over, and the Captain collected the last of the tests to several protests of "I'm not done yet!"
Then Allan called the women back into the room. The ranger set the assembled PPG, pike and dust packet on the table next to their twins. She then pulled out the knife (while the slowest trainee suddenly groaned and covered his face) and placed it on the table as well, letting her hair down loose. The teep was holding the data pad she'd been writing notes in for the day.
Christov felt almost a third of the class stiffen around him as Alexander gently lifted the NMF from her scalp and placed it in a holding box the captain pulled out from behind her.
//I think the passing average this week will be lower than usual,// he thought pensively, //all of this was covered a half-dozen times in theory, the practice shouldn't have been hard, if you didn't count the 'drool factor'.//
All eyes watched the Chief as he asked for questions before the wrap-up and dismissal for their first day off in several weeks. All eyes except for the ones belonging to Ranger Alexander, Captain Ivanova, and the unnamed telepath. //They know something's going on,// Christov wondered, //What could it be?//
A recruit to Christov's left spoke up, hostility radiating towards the brunette. "Why even have a teep there? I mean, sure, you'd need an observer the first search but she wasn't even paying attention and you'd just pointed out she'd be too far away to pick anything up anyway. Why even have the Psi Corps involved?!"
The telepath, despite having just been insulted, was fighting to keep an amused expression off her face.
"Actually . . ." Christov said slowly, "I don't think she - well, the teep - WAS to far away, Mr. Mitchell." //Not for picking up emotions, all the chief needs. Right?//
"What?! Now, look, Christov-"
Allan sighed, and motioned at the two assistants with a 'next' sign, before repeating his first comment of the day.
"Never, ~ever~ assume anything . . ."
The telepath took off her blue, high-collared jacket with the gold Psi pin, holding it over her arm as she pulled off the black gloves awkwardly. Christov kept his face expressionless as he suddenly realized something.
" . . . about ANYONE . . ."
The ranger took off her short brown tunic, handing it and the belt to the brunette, taking the jacket and gloves in exchange. Christov suddenly realized that without the tunic/jacket, the two women were dressed identically.
" . . . in ANY situation." The Chief finished, watching the faces in front of him pale considerably. There was a pair of thunks as two skulls hit their desks in the sudden agony of knowledge, and one faint swearword.
The redhead doing up the jacket and pulling on the gloves with the ease of long practice wasn't a ranger . . . ~she~ was the teep! The REAL ranger had slid on the brown top and wrapped on the belt with considerably more finesse than the woman he'd searched had shown when getting dressed.
//Oops.//
"Oh jeez, ma'am, I'm sorry!!! I didn't actually mean to - to - ooooh boy." A frantic explanation from somewhere behind Christov faded under a withering glare from Alexander.
Zack Allan cleared his throat, bringing the attention back his way. "May I present Mrs. Lisa Ashton, member of the Anla'Shok, and Miss Lyta Alexander, resident commercial telepath." He paused for dramatic effect. "You have got to pay more attention to how things are phrased, people. What is Not said is just as, if not more, important than what IS said. I never said ~which~ lady was being searched. I DID say that just because someone's got a particular uniform on, it doesn't mean that it belongs to them."
Now Captain Ivanova's turn to speak came. "Every one of you has met one, if not both, of our guests during the past few days. No formal introductions, and neither in their real - which would be ~current~ - uniforms, but when you saw the badges here, now, that's all you saw. If you couldn't place the face, you were letting what they wore get in the way."
Christov was among those to blink at the incredibly dirty look Miss Alexander shot at Ivanova right then, who didn't seem to notice as she continued.
"Every one of you had it mentioned that said person was important, but no specifics were given. If you didn't do a check," she glanced at the still pale Mitchell, "you missed vital information. If you did," she glanced at Christov then, "you were forewarned. Remember that, if you pass. If you don't, remember that anyway. You'll likely need it in your next job. Results will be posted at the time said. Don't come begging before then, you won't get your scores early. Dismissed!"
They filed out glumly, all 23 looking a little or a lot worse for wear. The door had barely closed behind them when the voices exploded in concern.
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"I'm doomed! I'm doomed!"
"Start packing, I think we ALL failed! Ooooh, god, I just had to image Red in a silk teddy and pearls when I was touching her! Teeps can't block thoughts if there's skin contact!"
"I think I passed."
"Shut up, you little twerp! Don't tell me you actually remembered to check on them ahead of time!"
"Sure I did, same as Christov did, right? Just ask the computer to list the resident teep. There's a nice face shot of Alexander, although her hair's gotten lots longer since then."
"Why the hell didn't I do that? We were all warned a week ago we'd be working with the teep!"
"Oh, god, what a gorgeous body . . . Do you think those stories about making love to a telepath are true?"
"I failed. I just know it. Hell, I didn't even get the last test started, I was so far behind. I suck at essays."
"Sex with a mindwalker . . . for a human she was pretty good looking."
"Of course Christov knew! His kid Andew was trailing her around like a puppy yesterday. Severe crush, if you ask me. But worth it, wow."
"If I manage to pass, I'm gonna ask her out."
"She'd never agree, Mick. Your face hasn't even cleared up yet!"
"I didn't say I'd be able to! But I'm still going to ask."
"I don't know about any of you, but I'm for the nearest bar to drown, then the nearest brothel to fix this ache."
"Me, too. God, what a day."
"Me three, and ditto!"
"You men are all alike. Walking hormones."
"Allan said the injured trainee last time was a she, so don't you start. Besides - not to start rumors here - I've seen Alexander eating dinner with the Captain, a few days ago. Maybe she likes women?"
"Ivanova hates anything with the Corps. She's told me herself. Some family thing. You must have seen wrong."
"So then why'd the Captain get stuck with looking after those rogues in downbelow? If she hates teeps-"
"How the hell should I know? But that Byron is sure good-looking, I'll grant you that. Half us girls here think so."
"How the hell did you miss the knife?!"
"Which is why the Chief's only letting Males or Narns guard them. Any votes on what Alexander might think of the rogues?"
"I failed, I'm almost sure of it. Jeez, day of terror indeed!"
"Hates them, was dead against even talking to them. What?! I saw Garibaldi - the last Chief, he retired for a few months then got a promotion to Head of Alliance Intelligence - trying to convince her to go talk to Byron for something. He couldn't do it for a long while, finally had to pull in a line on Delenn and Sheridan working so hard to make the Alliance work before she'd even start to listen to him. She doesn't want ANYTHING to do with them, and I don't blame her. But they're making her go down there for a little while every day or something. Keeping an eye on them."
"I can't join you, Steve. I have to pack."
"Jason, you were in front of me, did she have that bruise when you . . . pack? Lord, you didn't-"
"I did. I couldn't find one thing, and I got mad. I - I have to go pack."
"There was a whole set of bruises when I got to her. . . The Chief is gonna be pissed when he finds out."
"I think I failed. I'm sure I failed. G'Quon help me."
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