AU4

ECHERNI

THE LIGHTFLEET LETTERS

TERRAN-ENGLISH EDITION

by

ANNA MARY HALL

DAPHNE HAMILTON

VIRGINIA TILLEY (QUISM)

ILLUSTRATIONS BY QUISM

A SHIRLEY MAIEWSKI PUBLICATION

First Printing - May, 1980

May, 1980. All rights reserved to the authors, illustrator and publisher.

EXPLANATION

Some of you are thinking, "Ah-ha, Echerni The Lightfleet Letters, brought to us by those marvelous people who wrote ALTERNATE UNIVERSE IV." Actually, that's not correct. AU4 was brought to you by the marvelous people who write the Lightfleet Letters. The Letters came before - long before AU4 - and continue after it. The action in Volume I was independent of the Letters; the war in Volume II was first fought in the Letters; the events in Volume III (not yet available at the time these Letters were first published) are once more independent of the Letters. The events in the Letters take place after Volume III. The same characters appear in both, with this exception: Kirk, Spock, and McCoy have no part in these letters.

Those of you who write, and those of you who've ever listened to writers try to explain how they do what they do, know that there is more than one method of developing background - building your Universe. The Lightfleet Universe, an offshoot of Gene Roddenberry's Star Trek Universe, was built through the Letters. They were begun 11-12 years ago by Virginia Tilley and Cathy Minks. Through the years, with a changing cast of writers, the Letters have been written for one purpose - the enjoyment of the writers. The characters in the Letters and the Universe in which they live grew and developed as the writers grew and developed, becoming to a large extent independent of Star Trek.

The Letters you have here were written by three people: Anna Mary Hall writing for Thia Chenen and Obar Rium; Daphne Hamilton writing for Dival Raithan and Staav Morel; Virginia Tilley (Quism) writing for T'Ares Malon and everyone else not identified here by name.

If any of you are wondering why Shirley Maiewski's name isn't on any of these letters, her character, Neran Lansenahl, and his newly refurbished ship, the LFC Farinian, had left on a new assignment, deep space exploration, and missed the whole show. Shirley is involved in the Letters as co-editor, critic, assistant-proofreader and nitpicker, typist, and publisher.

There is a Velonian language and it is used to a limited extent in these letters. ((Not as limited as we thought! - DH)) Longer passages will be footnoted, but individual words and short phrases can be found in the Vocabulary in the back of the zine. The Vocabulary contains a pronunciation guide for the benefit of you non-Velonian speakers. There is also a Name Glossary that gives the correct pronunciation of names and terms and brief notes on them where we think necessary.

Shev, irdan, o levetav lonta,

The Authors

a

Astani:

This is one of your last cadet classes on Indel. Within weeks some of you will be on your first assignment; you may already know what that assignment will be. You are as ready for active service as we can make you. Lightfleet's goals have become yours, and your training has prepared you to help achieve them.

One last thing must be said to explain why this is a required course.

You have studied hundreds of missions; agents' reports; ships' and captains' logs have been a prime source of instructional material. With these examples for inspiration you have - though Lightfleet asks no oath of you - dedicated your life to reaching Lightfleet's goal of peace in the galaxy. Lightfleet could not exist without this dedication, but carried too far, it could weaken and ultimately destroy Lightfleet.

You are an individual distinct from Lightfleet and you must never forget it. You have your own life to live, and sometimes you need to put it first, before duty to Lightfleet. There is no point in achieving peace if there is no one left who has the capacity to enjoy it.

These personal messages, sent during a crisis that threatened Lightfleet's very existence, illustrate several different responses to the call of duty, all perfectly acceptable. These messages were released after much soul-searching, foot-dragging, and shouting on the part of the senders.

The erratic numbering system was necessary. In actuality several of the messages may have been in transit simultaneously. There is no 'right' order to put them in, only arbitrary decisions on my part.

LHamra - Action Agent - Instructor

SUPPLEMENTAL READINGS - Ships' Logs and Agents' Reports for Lightfleet dates 5195/10/15 to 5196/2/03.

b

B1

TO: CAPTAIN THIA CHENEN

FROM: COMMANDER T ARES MALON

THIA:

There was nothing I wanted more than to be on Indel when you arrived there, but Galactic Fate has come through again and I am writing this from a planet nearly 5000 lightyears from Indel, and have no prospects of returning there in the near future. I am, in fact, sitting on the hull of the Durn a, looking up at a pleasantly bright night sky, surrounded by trees and the sounds of wind and birds in their branches, and Indel is just a faint, fuzzy star above me.

"Sitting on the hull of the Durn a?" you gasp? Yes, and it is giving us all very strange feelings to be clambering over this huge ship in the open air. It would almost be amusing if it weren't so serious. I doubt if anything less serious could have gotten me back into active duty so soon. I am again a Command Officer, Thia, and officially, this time.

You probably know little about the Durn a's crash aside from the fact that it is down. That was all I knew when I arrived here yesterday, and only now, this evening, have I prepared reports for the Council and found time to send personal messages. The first of these messages is going to you partly because I wanted to be the first to tell you: you are now High Captain of the Cruiser Fleet. No, not permanently (don't panic); Zhen is alive and will recover, but he won't be commanding anything for awhile.

According to Exec. Jean-Paul LaParon, the ship had had no warning. The power distribution failure affected thrust control and also cut off all communication from the Control Center to the ship. (In fact, the evidence indicates that every control panel in Control lost contact with the ship; can you imagine what that must have been like for the Control Crew? We know they couldn't even get out of the Center, the doors all jammed.) No one on the ship knew what was happening until the Durn a entered the atmosphere, and by then it was too late to reach the main power channels to reroute. Using Auxiliary Control, Jean-Paul managed to bring the ship's speed down to sublight 2 and direct it toward a big lake, but by the time they hit the water they were still going 1.5. They skimmed along the surface for about two hundred kilometers in 10.5 seconds, raising a gigantic wake, then actually were flashing along under the surface by a few meters for another one hundred kilometers before hitting the shore. Fortunately, it was a long, sloping one, or they would have been ripped apart. They came up the beach still going five kilometers a second, plowed up a tree-covered slope, hit free air over the top, dropped belly-first and ripped up another three kilometers of forest before coming to a stop. When I first saw it I was too stunned even to answer their hail; I circled over them for a full five minutes before I could recover my senses. The great, silver, shining crescent, lying unevenly in the forest, a broad swath behind it ripped clean of trees and five meters of topsoil and clay, was a sight for which I'd been totally unprepared.

There was astonishingly little damage to the ship. The neutronium hull held up under everything, although the shuttle bay doors were ripped off the belly, and the tractor protuberance was battered into scrap metal. There is considerable damage to the main support structure and the ship will have to be dematerialized and taken back to Indel in transporter tow; warp speed is out of the question in a solid state.

But more miraculous was the absence of casualties. No one was killed, and the few injuries that occurred were minor; Jean-Paul had everyone strap themselves down well before the ship hit the water. The few injuries there were (outside of the Control Center) occurred during that last three kilometers, which Jean-Paul described as "like being picked up by a giant dog and shaken to bits." The real damage was in the Control Center. As near as we can tell from the mess that's left, the main power junction under the center of the floor exploded just as the ship topped the first hill, and saturated the Center with radiation, which of course set off a chain of lesser explosions through the panels. Zhen had by that time anticipated the explosion (so we believe) and had used his own lanel energy to dissolve two of the doors. All the Control crew got out before the explosion, but the radiation reached them in the halls, and since Zhen and T'Roulan were the last to leave, they were the most affected. None of the Control Crew was conscious when I arrived, and I had them all shipped to Indel by Special Courier for severe radiation exposure treatment.

The cause of the situation is still unknown, but we're working on it. The crew has set up camp in the forest all around the ship, and we spend all available time prowling through the corridors with torches and beacons (all ship's power is turned off, of course), opening ducts and tracing power channels and trying to figure out what happened. As a preliminary report I'd say . . . well, damn. How can I say anything with what little I know, and yet I paid dearly for not reporting my hunches to Indel about the torsponder. It's my impression, and only an impression, that the cause of the failure came from outside the ship. It may have been from an intelligent source. We have fourteen patrol parties out surveying the planet, and the security ships (that are still arriving, by the way, and will try to get the ship up in another two days) are doing their part in scanning. There's an abundance of animal life here, some of it dangerous, but none (as far as we know) intelligent enough to have done this. Jean-Paul is bolder than I; he's admitted he's "looking" for the culprit as far as his duties will allow.

Shev aer lo, aer elo. Velan-ano al Obar.

(Signature: Malon)

B2

TO: COMMANDER T'ARES MALON

FROM: HIGH CAPTAIN THIA CHENEN & COMMANDER OBAR RIUM

Malon:

You break news so gently! I had a whole free day with Obar and our family - not one word of LightFleet business - dancing under the sun and stars, running in the forests of Indel. I was lying drowsy and warm in Obar's arms when your message arrived. "Sitting on the hull of the Durn a" brought me bolt upright. I started the tape over so Obar could hear too, so at least I heard of Zhen's injuries and my temporary duties leaning on Obar's shoulder.

I sat there and cursed quietly, but with great feeling, for a good five minutes.

Of all the times for this to happen! I would hate being High Captain anytime, but now the task seemed impossible. Leave Obar? It would mean leaving my heart behind. Then I realized that Obar was sitting quietly, calmly, half-smiling as he listened to me.

"Simple solution," he explained, as soon as I stopped. "I want the home voreni and you, but if you can't come to Velona now, I'll stay on the Shar da with you. The forests and the chylan can wait."

I began to remember more and more why I love this chenen fen, why through the long years of his absence no one ever completely filled his place in my heart.

I thought I would die 58 years ago when Obar did not return from that mission in Klingon territory. Only the fact that his ship wasn't found, offering a ray of hope that he was alive somewhere, held me back from a Chenea Imail. Seven years later when his battered, empty ship was found, I had accepted, and was even managing to enjoy a life without him. But still there was no body and in the depths of my mind Obar still lived. The next 51 years were not empty ones for me - Etanahli ano tosamirano al ano-seranta velan o al artura em-ano * - but the loneliness was never completely banished.

Then, Malon, astan velena, who may ask anything of us, you hunted through all the long years and distant stars to find and return him. You have given us back more than we had allowed ourselves to know we had lost. Eai-eno enta miriana.

Amid this joy it is difficult to remember I have duties - heavier than usual - to face, but the image of you sitting on the Durn a keeps floating through my mind. A lightship on the ground is such a complete contradiction that it is difficult to accept. Lightships die in space, in reactions that rival the stars, not on planets like birds with broken wings.

I'm glad I won't see it. Seeing the report tapes will be bad enough without standing beneath the looming hull.

I have great respect for your hunches, Malon, but if something from outside affected the Durn a . . . That postulates something with the ability to detect a lightship, to reach through its shields without being detected itself, and to do whatever was done.

Is there any hope it was simple mechanical failure? We will be waiting anxiously for your next report.

Shev aer lo,

(Thia signature) and (Obar Signature)

__________

* loves I found to give me love and to take mine

B3

TO: CAPTAIN THIA CHENEN AND COMMANDER OBAR RIUM

FROM: COMMANDER T'ARES MALON

Thia and Obar:

I send this to both of you because I assume all my messages will be shared anyway, and because after your last message I've started to think of you not as individuals but as Thia-and-Obar. So to you, Thia-and-Obar, I send my happiness and relief for you both in your newfound joy, and if anyone tries to split you up for any reason, official or otherwise, he will have my phaser to deal with! Shev aer elo!

Your message was a light spot in an otherwise gloomy day. We have had very bad fortune here. In fact, the whole week has been one long series of crises, problems and mysteries. The first unpleasantness was the assumption by one of the local carnivores that Lightfleet personnel are fair game. He stalked our camps for a couple of days, then jumped a patrol. LF medical technology barely saved his intended victim, and the other three members narrowly escaped injury. When Jean-Paul and I arrived, on the tails of some much faster vorli, the animal was dead, his victim nearly so, and three Lightfleet officers were so high up in trees that it took them nearly fifteen minutes to climb down, (compared to the fifteen seconds it took them to climb up). Excitement over? Not quite. The animal's mate came around the next day, presumably looking for him, mauled five crewmen and dashed through the center line of camps, scattering us like a courser after meadow mice, and while we were still recovering from the attack, a third such animal came through and killed the assistant scanner officer, one second before I finally lost my caution and released my anger in a burst of phaser fire.

The second unpleasantness was the failure of six of the Security Ships' navigation taps (yes, I said "six", no, I am not crazy). They had to be taken in tow back to Indel by three others, leaving us with a total of one Security Ship for nearly two hundred stranded personnel, all of whom refused to leave the Durn a alone in the wilderness.

But the third unpleasantness I'm classing as Code II, and please, Thia-and-Obar, keep that coding strict. I said I thought the cause of the Durn a's crash was from outside the ship; I was wrong. I said that because no mechanical failure could have accounted for what happened, and I was right. Fortunately, it was Jean-Paul and I alone who inspected the Engineering junction of the main power channel to the Control Center. I must reluctantly report a case of deliberate sabotage.

The impulse regulator had been totally disconnected from the junction; a process that must have taken both time and, at the least (if I had done it), six different tools. The power line was open to any fluctuation or power surge, and of course it was just a matter of time before the system shorted out.

Jean-Paul has listed everyone he believes has the know-how to do this thing, and another list includes everyone who could have spent time around the junction without being noticed; in other words, those normally working with the main power circuitry in Engineering. This second list includes fifteen names, and Jean-Paul has without reservation rejected every one of them as possible saboteurs. We are faced with an enigma.

We have not discounted the possibility of long-range telekinesis, though motives and the choice of the point of damage seem respectively puzzling and strange. Neither have we discounted the possibility of a telepathic or empathic agent working through the mind and body of one of the crewmen, and leaving no memory of the action. Similar, though less drastic, failures on the Security Ships indicate a continued danger, and I hazard that the damage has something to do with this planet or its vicinity. The last Security Ship, the Tom Esan, is standing out at maximum orbit, just in case.

We are postponing telling the crew of our discoveries until all other possibilities are discounted, and we may never tell them. I'd like your opinion on removing the entire crew to Indel for testing, and leaving them in ignorance. The damage to morale to this crew and to all of Lightfleet could be disastrous.

Shev aer elo.

(Malon Signature)

B4

TO: COMMANDER T'ARES MALON

FROM: CAPTAIN THIA CHENEN AND COMMANDER OBAR RIUM

MALON:

Yes, all of your letters will be shared, and your reply will be from both of us, whether both names are signed, or not.

So, while Thia is busy, I'll tell you about life here on the Shar da. There hasn't been any excitement at all since I've been aboard. The Shar da has been patrolling what I'm told is her usual beat, the Federation-Klingon border. Taena Christen had barely been off the ship since she took over as First officer, so she is on a long leave. Falk is acting First, and I am taking over his duties.

I find it a little unnerving, but nothing has gone wrong, yet. The Shar da isn't that much different from the Mathfori, and I remember what I'm supposed to do, but it has been so long since I did it. All those years alone, while not without their value, don't help much in commanding a lightship. The years on Avas at least got me back in the habit of working with people, and of giving commands.

++++

Obar has gone back on duty. He's regaining lost skills rapidly, and while I'd still be nervous about leaving the Shar da in his control, it won't be long until he is as competent as ever, and that was very competent in his case. (And if you think my judgement is not to be trusted where Obar is concerned, remember, B a was his captain for many years.)

Your problem is beginning to sound more serious. Of the two explanations you offer, I think the third - telepathic or empathic agent working through the minds and body of one of the crewmen - is more likely. If the Durn a was the only ship to have suffered damage, sabotage from within the crew would be a real possibility, but when six Security Ships also have trouble . . . I will not believe in seven saboteurs.

Who are your best available telepaths, and what do they have to say about the planet?

If the source of trouble is from outside, I would say the motive is curiosity, or perhaps something a little more serious. Some one, or some thing, has collected a group of specimens, and is testing them, giving first priority to discovering your reactions to physical dangers (the three animals that attacked the camp).

Since you have had several days to gather data, you may have already discovered an answer. If you haven't, call for help if you feel it is needed.

Malvara is officially Empress of the Klingon Empire. Kamar's last act before dying was to name her his successor. Her first official act was to recall her brother, Kelbarren, from his ten years of exile on Sholas.

Shev aer lo,

(Thia signature) and (Obar Signature)

B5

TO: CAPTAIN THIA CHENEN AND COMMANDER OBAR RIUM

FROM: COMMANDER T'ARES MALON

Thia and Obar:

I am humiliated, embarrassed, irritated and helpless. I deserve to be court-martialed, and would welcome one gladly if someone could just find a way to get me to Indel to go through one. And it is actually partly your fault, Thia, you and your perceptions!

We have spent the last two weeks exploring the planet; working on the Durn a, field scanning and theorizing. We've suffered one more attack (no casualties) by a predator, and a series of violent storms that washed the Durn a forty meters down its own trench and which had us all huddling in our tents, heroism and leadership totally abandoned. The Tom Esan made a bid to come in after the last storm and pick some of us up, reached the atmosphere and blew a BX transformer valve and sprinted back to Indel.

It was in this isolated, soggy state that I received your message. Aha! I thought. Perhaps a valid theory; someone collecting a group of specimens? Well, we'll see what its limits are. The only ship capable of flight on the planet was my Charisma; we planned to fully program its flight computer, instruct it to ignore all further instructions until it reached deep space, and put me in it under short-term sedation. Jean-Paul and a computronist named Shuran were to help me.

Up to the moment I stepped into the Control Room, everything was clear. From that point on, my memory comes in very vivid but very brief snatches. The first such vignette was of Jean-Paul and Shuran backed against a wall with rigid, pale faces, staring at the phaser in my hand that was aimed at them and set to kill. I somehow realized what was happening, dropped the phaser and kicked it out the door and yelled "Get out of here!" and that was the last of that memory. The next memory was of my hand on my weaponry controls, and a Lightfleet Courier ship reeling on my screen under a full photon hit from one of my torpedoes. I threw myself backward to the floor and cried, "Priority One: obey Lightfleet directives!" to my computer. Then a blank. Then beating on my control panels, demanding control of the ship, and the computer calmly refusing to give it to me. Then a blank. Then coming slowly to consciousness strapped down on a table in the dark lounge of the Charisma, with Jean-Paul and a medic whose name I learned was Rodarin, staring down at me, and looking none too trusting.

The story as others saw it was this: After I pulled the phaser on Jean-Paul and Shuran and woke up enough to kick it out the door, they jumped head-first out after it. (Jean-Paul said it was the look in my eyes, that the dagger in my hand wouldn't have fazed him. I suppose I must believe him, though I wish he had jumped the other way). The Charisma then took off, and began to traverse the globe at an altitude of about a hundred miles, at sublight speed. One of our attendant Courier ships made a brave dash to intercept me and was just about blasted by my torpedoes. They then tried direct computer instruction and thought they had things solved when the Charisma obediently responded by turning and heading back toward camp, but t'was not so. Some fifteen hundred kilometers from the Durn a, the Charisma crashed into the forest, all power blocked, not even the lights functioning.

Jean-Paul and Rodarin jumped into an air-bike and reached the poor, dead Charisma about an hour later. They said they approached it as though it were an enemy bomb, but when they finally came inside, I was out cold, unconscious from the crash. They weren't very sentimental; Rodarin had me strapped down with straps a Gorn couldn't have budged within two minutes of finding me. I woke up while he was still running tests, both medical and telepathic. He's a powerful lanel telepath; it was not unlike being picked over by a Klingon mind-sifter. My protests were briskly ignored.

At length we decided that since there was evidently nothing wrong with me, that I must have been a victim of telepathic manipulation, and that since any of us were vulnerable to such possession, there was no real point in having me strapped down. They let me up, watching me carefully, much to my irritation, though I couldn't really complain. It was as we were stepping out the door toward the bike to return to camp that the bike blew up, and from the scope of the explosion I'd say our unknown captors meddled with the monautal ore itself. All three of us made a flying dive back into the Charisma and just missed being misted into oblivion as one hundred square meters of forest was wiped away. And since our captors do everything through us, that meant sabotage either by Jean-Paul or Rodarin, or both.

So we are trapped here. The Charisma can't move, the bike is gone, no one is daring to use the other bike back at the main camp, the Couriers can't come in, we can't go out and we three are watching each other every second and growing jumpier by the hour. I don't want to sound desperate, but I am. We can't trust each other or ourselves, and making plans is pointless. I'm afraid we must ask for help. I don't know of what kind; some xenopaths, perhaps? But you, Thia and Fleet Leader, have a flagship crew and two Wing-Commanders trapped helpless on

a planet, and whether you send ships or personnel, you would certainly be graciously thanked if you sent them soon. Advice either from you or Obar will be grabbed any time you care to send it.

Shev aer elo!

(Malon Signature)

P.S. One more item: I have a grandmother of a headache that seems to be growing despite Rodarin's drugs, and Jean-Paul is starting to feel one, too. Could our "Captors" be aware of our rank?

B6

TO: COMMANDER T'ARES MALON

FROM: CAPTAIN THIA CHENEN AND COMMANDER OBAR RIUM

Malon:

Being High Captain is a lousy job! If I wasn't stuck with it, I could come to your rescue myself. However, as High Captain, I am unable to justify it, so Chan and the Aevafen, armed with all the knowledge about the problem I could provide, are on their way to assist you. My regret at not being able to come myself is eased by the fact that Chan is a more capable telepath that I.

Obar and I have a question that we can't answer from the data you've sent us. You have members of five or six different species available. Are they all equally susceptible to control by your "Captors"? From your experience Vulcan/Human Orecrevinal, and either Humans or Velonians can be controlled, but what about the others?

Empress Malvara is off to a good start. She scheduled her ceremonial assumption of duties first, then took time to bury her father with great pomp. It is so very practical and logical a thing to do that it has helped reassure some of the persons who were not certain a female would be strong enough to rule the Empire. All of her brothers and sisters have sworn their loyalty to her, and the Fleet is obeying her orders. That isn't to say there aren't some dissidents. Malvara is treating them gently, so far. Gently for a Klingon, I mean. There have been many arrests, but no torture and no executions.

I've put this off until last because I'm rather embarrassed by it. The Shar da is being followed. It's a small ship, perhaps one third our size. They have very good scanners; they can detect us when our shields are up. Their top speed seems to be around Warp 12, but they have a very disconcerting ability to vanish if we get too close. It isn't a matter of some type of shielding; their shields make our sensor readings fuzzy, but nothing more. Our highest-ranked possible explanation of their ability is that they have some method of slipping into another universe, or another time.

We could lose them anytime by outrunning them. They could slip into their hole and steal away, but neither of us wants to lose the other. We've been going in gentle circles for two days now. I'm prepared to do it for several more days unless something calls us away. I've been thinking of approaching them in a shuttle, but that is a last ditch method.

++++

Thia is dying to try her 'last ditch method' and is being restrained only by her common sense. I've just come off watch. We played another game of hide-and-seek with our visitor. They let us get to within the usual three hundred thousand kilometers, then vanished like a soap bubble. Fascinating! I hope Thia lets me go with her when she goes out in the shuttle.

We've been back together long enough that we have managed to stop seeing our memories of each other, and we have found some changes. There is one major problem. (I call it a problem with great reluctance, but no other description seems to fit.) Shipbound life is difficult for every Velonian who enters Lightfleet. Being shut away from the surface of a planet is against our nature, but given a good enough reason, we can adjust to it, and LF is a good reason. Fifty-eight years ago Thia and I were both adjusted to it. It was a sacrifice, but one we could make without physical distress.

Then came the accident, and I spent fifty-eight years reaffirming my ties to the forests and plains. You saw my life! I was barely protected from the cold and rain, and never more than a few steps from the open. There are times on the Shar da that I feel I can not breathe, and my legs ache to run. Without Thia's help I cannot stand it.

Thia has spent the same fifty-eight years in space, most of it aboard this almost-alive-creature, the Shar da. The great darkness between planets, between stars, has been her habitat, and she has adjusted to it. This is now her natural environment. Oh, she needs to visit the surface of planets as a Selechenen needs to surface for air, but she lives in space as they live in the sea.

If I could not share her feelings for this life, I would have to leave the ship.

Shev aer lo,

(Obar Signature)

B7

TO: CAPTAIN THIA CHENEN AND COMMANDER OBAR RIUM

FROM: COMMANDER T'ARES MALON

Thia and Obar:

I'm sorry this must be short, but everything that goes out from this planet must go Code One scrambled, and we're trying to keep private messages to a minimum.

We have discovered several facts about our situation. The source of the telepathic control is inanimate; in other words, mechanized. You can imagine the trouble we had discovering that fact, but when it seized Chan's mind she managed to resist, and picked up the artificial 'whiff' we all know. She didn't resist it entirely, I might add; she left her quarters, went to Engineering and began sabotaging Impulse Maintenance, but she fought it all the way and kept control of her voice (I heard the curses could be heard two decks away), and some brave souls managed to stop her.

It was shortly after that incident that Jean-Paul, Rodarin and I decided we'd had enough, and began trying to get the ship operational (I am referring to the Charisma, in which we had spent a very gloomy, agonizingly dull two weeks). Very much to our surprise, we found and corrected the trouble almost immediately, and we mustered the courage to try our scanners. We picked up energy readings about thirty-five hundred kilometers away, and purely out of desperation put the ship into "drive" and lifted off. No trouble! We flew without incident to the location of the energy readings and landed, but our elation was promptly dented by the realization that we would not lift off again. Are you ready for this? Our monautal ore was completely drained. Dead crystal. We may have the only chunk of lifeless monautal ore in the galaxy.

We have an ionic generator that is powering our scanners, and so far we have learned a few essential facts. Directly below us is a large, rectangular, artificial chamber, roughly fourteen by twenty by two kilometers, at a depth of about one point five kilometers. It holds a computer complex dating back fifteen thousand years and certain impulses are suspiciously similar to standard Shevian call codes. It is the general opinion that we've stumbled onto an old Shevian reserve base, and we have a large number of wildly excited Velonians who want to explore it. But the defense computer is operating on automatic, and we all still feel more fear than enthusiasm; Lightfleet is no match for the Shevian Golden Age technology, and if the computer decides we are a menace it could snuff us all out at will. We've been sending messages to it in High Velonian; so far no response. We've tried the only Shevian call our communications can send: no response. It may be considering its position. I will say I don't feel particularly safe, since it has shown its ability to single out Command Officers and I am sitting directly over it. Again, helplessness is the name of the game.

There are, of course, a host of details I don't have time to relate, but you can ask Chan for more details about the Aevafen. It has survived two sabotage attempts, one by Chan and one by Kiro, both thwarted by the Code II Security Alert they are maintaining up there. I've had long conversations with Kiro, and his perspective on the situation is invaluable, but all of us are frustrated almost beyond endurance at the forced distance between us. The Aevafen is maintaining a cautious point twenty-five lightyear distance, and there is no coming and going by shuttle or by transporter. No supplies can go either way, only advice. And if I hear too many more "Have you tried ________'s" I'm going to tell some high ranking officers some things they shouldn't hear.

In answer to your question, it seems that everyone with telepathic reception capabilities, regardless of race, is subject to control. Your message arrived before the Aevafen, and was very welcome!

Your shadowing ship sounds extremely peculiar; I hope there have been more developments? My personal concern is not so much toward your mysterious ship as toward Obar, whose claustrophobia and land-longing sounds severe and urgent. I urge you both to remember the demands of your heritage and not to press your instincts beyond endurance, even for the sake of the love between you and its demands on you. There are more needs than the need for etanahl, and there is none more enduring than the need for running in free wind. Shev aer lo, Obar!

I did have one thought about your visitor, perhaps you should "follow" it into Inner Space and see if that is perhaps where it is going when it "vanishes". If you're "close" enough, you should be able to pick it up on your scanners, and since scanner shields (at least those we know of) can't function in Inner Space, you might be able to learn something. I envy your scanner officer, though I have my hands full here with something which, despite my relatively dispassionate account, is dazing us all with its implications.

Dal iverni velena!

(Malon signature)

B8

TO: COMMANDER T'ARES MALON AND CAPTAIN DIVAL RAITHAN

FROM: CAPTAIN THIA CHENEN

Malon & Dival:

Of all that's happened in the last weeks, what I choose to announce first is that Obar has left the Shar da. He is on Velona at L a Melion. He will go to Indel in a few weeks and there decide how he can best serve Lightfleet. (I hope he will work his way back into the Cruiser Fleet, but for now it will have to be something that allows him more planet time).

The ship seems empty with Obar gone, yet I am not unhappy. He is safe, he is there and while there is no mental contact when we are this far apart, just knowing his location brings a warmth to the galaxy that it lacked for many years.

His - our decision that he would have to leave the Shar da was reached . . . well, that is a long story that should be told in the correct order.

We spent one nauseating day dodging in and cut of Inner Space chasing our visitor. We ended up with twenty whole minutes of clear scanner readings. We determined that they were humanoid, breathed oxygen, had a crew of one hundred and fifteen beings, all apparently of the same race; that their ship could duck in and out of Inner Space as easily as we; that they frequently went from Inner Space to another Universe (at least they left IS and didn't return immediately to this universe).

When we quit playing - stopped trying to approach closer than three hundred thousand kilometers - they settled into their usual station at that distance from us and we rested.

They made the next move; a small craft left the mother ship and moved toward us, stopping at the halfway point. With a sigh of relief I ordered a shuttle readied. Leaving Falk in command, Obar and I boarded it. (This is the point at which we realized he couldn't stay on the Shar da. If I went in the shuttle, he had to come. If he had stayed without me, he would have had to be sedated. We had not allowed ourselves to realize how much he was depending on me. It was a dangerous, unhealthy situation we could not allow to continue.) and crept out to rendezvous with the other craft.

It was a trap of course.

Eight thousand kilometers from their shuttle we were suddenly frozen in a transporter beam. We materialized in a round chamber lit by blue lights. There was the sound of engines straining to accomplish some great task, and my mental contact with Falk disappeared. As Obar and I took our third breath of the slightly chill air, a round viewscreen came on to show the featureless gray swirl of Inner Space. Our hands met and I wondered, with no real intention of trying it to find out, if it was possible to self-transport in Inner Space. Suddenly I could sense Falk again; the Shar da had followed us. With a wrench the gray swirl was replaced by stars, but not our stars. I'm not certain how I knew this. It was more than just the patterns were different, there was a feel deep inside that said 'not home', a feeling I have had before when exploring some other Universe.

"No chance of the Shar da following us now," Obar commented. "We're on our own."

There was a note in his voice I recognized from the old days, before the Shar da, before either of us was tied to a ship; an expression of that freedom you feel when you're in such a spot that your only responsibility is to yourself. We had shared it before, and there is a kind of fierce joy buried in the fear that accompanies it.

We assumed open intercoms and translators and spoke no more aloud. Mentally we agreed to stick with this ship if at all possible. Whatever else it was, it was our only way home.

There didn't need to be any discussion of what each of us would do. The habits from the days we had worked together as Action Agents were there and we returned to them automatically. Obar acted as guard, keeping track of our immediate surroundings, while my mind roamed the ship to see if any information could be gathered that way. Their minds were difficult to read, to contact at all, but I found a sense of triumph, and a certainty of their safety now that they were back in their own Universe.

I'm not certain how long it took me to find out those meager facts, but Obar's touch on my arm called me back to our cell. We would have remained quietly there waiting for them to come make contact, but they had begun feeding some type of gas into the air. Neither of us was ready to accept unconsciousness if it could be avoided, so we self-transported out of the room. We chose to materialize on their bridge, slightly behind a guard whom I disarmed as soon as we were solid.

I would have been proud to have been a member of that crew; they reacted magnificently. There was one warning cry, and they were all out of their chairs ready to jump us. The Captain said (as I guessed at the time, and later translated), "I'll handle this. Back to your work." They all settled obediently back to their instruments, and one individual off in the far corner went into a flurry of activity that I was sure would produce more guards.

The Captain moved slowly toward us. He was slender, about five feet, five inches tall and his skin was a bluish-gray, close in color to that of the Andorians, but there were no antennae. He patted the guard on the arm, then held out his hand for the weapon I had taken, but never pointed at anyone.

I bowed slightly (you know how gracious I can be when the occasion calls for it) and laid the weapon in his hand. As he returned it to the guard, doors opened behind Obar and me (yes, that was a mistake, standing in front of a door), and I felt something hard and sharp touching my back. I did not allow myself to stiffen, though I've never liked having a knife at my back.

The Captain considered our lack of reaction, turned and gave an order that moved a woman into his chair, then motioned Obar and me to follow him. With the knives still at our backs we crossed the bridge and passed through a door into a small conference room.

The Baaneuns live in a Universe LF has never studied. They occupy a position analogous to that of the Terrans in the Federation: a young, expanding race that is beginning to develop a true respect for different peoples and their cultures. They seem to be about three or four hundred years ahead of the Federation in philosophy, and nearly that much in technology. The Shar da, thank Shev, was their first contact in our Universe.

After hours of talking with Master Yelen and his experts (we soon had to move to a larger room and resort to intercoms) the Fezgro made the transition through Inner Space to our Universe.

The Shar da came sliding toward us the moment we appeared, then slowed as Falk caught my reassuring thought.

Four of Yelen's crew returned to the Shar da with Obar and me. One of our contact teams boarded the Fezgro to return to the Baaneun Universe with them.

I called Lemeron and the Asturan rendezvoused with us to pick up our guests, and escort them to Indel in style. When the Asturan left, Obar went with her.

The following poem reminds me that separation is not a new problem.

Do Not Go

"Do not go," I could say; but this is inauspicious.

"All right, go" is a loveless thing to say.

"Stay with me" is imperious, "Do as you wish" suggests

cold indifference. And if I say "I'll die

When you are gone," you might or might not believe me.

Teach me, my husband, what I ought to say

When you go away.

Translated from the Sanskrit

but at least telepathy makes it a bit easier to convey the feelings involved.

Shev aer lo,

(Thia Signature)

((Should I have gone with him, Dival?))

B9

TO: HIGH CAPTAIN THIA CHENEN

LFC SHAR DA

FROM: CAPTAIN DIVAL RAITHAN

LFC OCCELON

Thia:

I don't completely understand your complaint about not hearing from me for so long. After all, a month or two is not very long for me! Did you not get the long report I recorded while I was on Velona? Tsk, and after I sneaked and dodged so much so that I could get it done (families - and crews - can be over-solicitous at times!) I'll have to see if someone at Elai Eltan can find the tape and send it on. News is still news if you haven't heard it, no matter how old it is. I expect you know a few general facts about my mission, the tape has the details, so I won't go into them again. Suffice it to say that I am, (obviously) back on active duty.

That being so, I was here on the Occelon when the news came about Obar's rescue. Have I heard? Thia, have you any idea how that news rang through the Fleet? Those of us on the Occelon who know you (though most of us are too young to have known Obar personally, we know him better than you might think, through you), staged a Chena Irdan that wound through most of the ship before we were done! Such happiness, so much joy for you, Thia! I hope that before long I may meet Obar and dance some of that joy with both of you.

And in the midst of this, for you to have the distraction of being High Captain must be doubly unpleasant. Reports on the Durnea's crash have been remarkably sketchy, at least in our direction; even Morel has heard little from Malon. Has anything been discovered yet? Much relief (especially from you, I'll bet!) on hearing that Zhen is recovering so quickly.

Such a short time for the kind of happiness you both deserve, and yet Obar's decision was the only one he could have made to preserve the basis of that happiness. So much pain in that short question, which you tried to make look like an afterthought. Thia, Thia, I cannot tell you what you want to hear. I know all your reasons for staying, and they are good, strong, logical reasons, but for you now, they are wrong. I am sorry for the pain my words must give you, but for your sake, and for Obar's, I must tell you the truth. Take time for yourself, for only in the truth of your own existence can you be happy and make others happy. There, I sound very didactic, don't I, but I want this for you and Obar, and I know it is right.

As to your other news, your encounter with the Baaneuns was certainly interesting, and the results sound hopeful, but I am disturbed. I will be very interested in the reports from the contact team. I cannot explain precisely why, but I feel something is wrong there. Why did they not answer your hails after they had been discovered? Why the shuttle ploy? Why the apparent disparity between their scanner and their engine technology? Why, having kidnapped you and Obar, did they try to gas you after they were safely in their own universe with no hope of rescue for you? It should have been safe to make contact then, if they were afraid of the Shar da earlier. And what you read in their minds - or felt; I gather they were well screened from actual reading; was it a shield or an alien-ness? - the certainty of safety in their own universe I could understand if it were coupled with a sense of relief. But triumph? Triumph at what? Why such a powerful emotion? Was it at their return, or at having you? I'm sorry, I don't mean to be an alarmist; some of these questions may have no answers, some may have very reasonable answers. I know I'm being very vague in my reasons, but my fears are vague, too, though not less real for that. Yes, Thia, I am afraid. There is a feeling deep inside that says "wrong, wrong" as truly as you sensed the "strange, strange" of their universe. Pray that I am mistaken.

After what I have said, this will seem a strange wish, but it is all the more needed for that:

Shev aer lo,

(Dival Signature)

B10

Thia---

No words for what I feel - no time to seek them out - We made contact with the Shevian guard computer - my idea, Chan's implementation - the secret was its programming - to respond to orders in Ancient Shevian to reveal why it did not acknowledge our authority - Chan used telepathy - it responded in kind, simultaneously to all of us - too fast to get it all, but we saw the destruction of Shev - of the Empire - of the Great Search ships - horrible - death and suicide and despair - It took Chan a long time to recover enough to say we were the descendants - The computer denied it - Chan asked why it did not believe us - It then told each of us simultaneously and individually why we were not the Ancient Shevians - neuroses, falsehoods, self-deceptions, ambitions - it saw it all, more than we had seen - we were destroyed, communications broken down - no one could speak or function - three Chenai Imai on the Aevafen, utter despair, complete sense of futility and doom - I was swamped with knowledge of - of problems with - of lying to myself about myself - of covering over my own needs and pretending I could ignore them - the pains from Albintra to Shabas - of emptiness - We all were stunned by its perception of Lightfleet - our end has justified our means, but our means has shaped our end - not the end for the young races, but the end of Lightfleet and Velona - no long slow death - slow decay, corruption, deceit, loss of what made us able to do what we do - an empty culture torn by ambition and warped by militarism, dying in the shadows - I recovered first - Vulcan, more successful at self-deceit - gave it our history, had it extrapolate from probable events - It did, agreed we could be descendants - asked for history tapes, accepted their validity - Now it waits for orders - A few humans on the Aevafen recovered, but ship still in chaos - I am in command - I didn't want to be - not qualified - shaking and alone - need help - Request orders - Send aid - none of us fit for duty -

Malon

B10A

TO: COMMANDER T'ARES MALON

FROM: CAPTAIN THIA CHENEN

Malon:

Help is on the way, but dear friend, you may not collapse until it arrives. You must carry out two of my orders before help arrives.

You must talk to that computer. Make certain it knows that the ships rushing toward it at top speed are friendly. The Shar da is as close behind this message as her engines can keep us. The Occelon, coming from the other direction, should arrive before we do, and B a and Tenir are enroute from Indel.

And if you want your rescuers to be in any shape to offer aid, you must make certain the computer does not analyze us and then confront us with the results.

Even if it is a guard computer it was built by the Ancient Shevians; it should understand compassion. Persuade it to study the results of its interference. If it sees the harm it did, perhaps it will leave us alone. It might even be able to undo part of the harm. I have no idea of its abilities. Try anything you can think of. If it has accepted that we are its rightful inheritors and will follow your orders. . .

If you can't convince the computer that it should leave us alone, you'll have to warn the approaching ships before they get too near.

If you are in any mood or condition to hear another's problems - we have not heard from the contact team that went to the Baaneun Universe. There should have been two reports by now.

Malon, I cannot face that computer. A glimpse of the truth about myself would be more than I can stand. I should have left the ship with Obar. Have I actually let a machine come to mean more to me than a living being does? What would the computer tell me about pride of position?

Shev aer lo,

(Thia signature)

B11

TO: CAPTAIN DIVAL RAITHAN

LFC OCCELON

FROM: HIGH CAPTAIN THIA CHENEN

LFC SHAR DA

Dival:

I have told Malon that help is on the way, and as you can tell from her message, they need it desperately. The Occelon is nearer then the Shar da. Get to her, to them, as quickly as you can. The disjointed nature of her message raises serious doubts as to how long she can retain any kind of control.

Oh, hear me, Dival! How cold and controlled I sound! Hurry to them because they are our friends, brothers, children, and they need our help. The Shar da will be only hours, minutes behind you.

You should exercise great caution in approaching the planet, however. I'll have Malon tell it of us; who we are, why we rush toward it, but. . . It seems well defended and if it chooses to touch our minds as it did Malon's and the crew of the Aevafen, we may need help as much as they do. But if it has accepted us as its rightful inheritors there may be no problem.

As for myself - I must do some serious thinking before I face that computer if it is going to show me the truth. The truth - I don't think I know it about myself, or Lightfleet, anymore.

I think, I hope, that if this hadn't broken just now I would have had the courage to abandon my command and go to Obar and the peace that awaits me at L a Melion. Courage? Yes, it will take courage for me to leave the Shar da, to walk away and leave everything in another's hands. Taena is intelligent, well trained, perfectly competent to take command in normal circumstances. But the finding of an ancient Shevian computer is not normal; it is something the High Captain would be called to deal with, and by luck (ill or good?) I am High Captain and close at hand. If I follow my heart and leave it will be days before Avila and the Hilezan can reach here to take over. But- hear my pride, Dival?- my skills my training have been honed by long years of experience that even Avila can not match.

With a war on my conscience I still believe the universe is better for my interfering. Do my arguments make sense? I want to be with Obar, I tell myself and everyone else this, yet I stay with the Shar da and my position of responsibility. Am I lying to myself? Have I actually come to care more for a machine and a position than for a living being?

The questions about the Baaneurs were beginning to slowly occur to me. The contact team I sent with them has failed to make two scheduled reports, but worry about them must be put aside for a time.

Shev aer lo,

(Thia Signature)

B12

TO: CAPTAIN THIA CHENEN

FROM: COMMANDER T'ARES MALON

Thia:

I have done what I can to help you. I have followed your orders as best I can. I have talked to the computer; it will not speak to your crew nor to the crew of the Occelon. I cannot guarantee the same in regard to you and Dival . . . I'm sorry . . . I cannot do more. Your ships are safe; there will be no defense action taken on them by the computer. It understands Lightfleet now; it has already detected your ships and will be open to your communications.

I called it when I had received your message. I couldn't . . . I couldn't just act a role again . . . I simply read it your message. I think it was the section on compassion that convinced it of your sincerity. It understands the . . . impact of what it did to us . . . It has no power to remove the effects. It gave knowledge; that is all. It cannot take it away. I tried to tell it that we have sacrificed much health and many morals to do what must be done for the sake of the Galaxy. It understood, but it claims that that is a hollow rationale if our leaders are any less than wonderful. I fear for you, Thia; it must satisfy its own standards and I am sure it will probe you, and Dival, and possibly Taena and . . . and Morel . . . I told it that it didn't understand our psychology. I told it that it could do damage. I pointed to the Chenai Imai on the Aevafen. I said everything I could think of . . . I cried . . . I opened my mind to it . . . I cannot say what it will do. Shev, I'm sorry, Thia! I cannot do more. It may confront you with what it finds in order to improve you by its standards. Knowledge does not hurt, it heals, it says. You are Fleet Leader . . . Yet when I said I would counsel you not to come, to get off the ship, it said that fear of knowledge was never a Shevian trait. It is right. What have we become, Thia, that we fear to know the truth? What might it tell you about pride of position, and what would you do if what you heard was. . .

It asked for some of the latest Lightfleet projects, and I told it about your contact with the Baaneun Universe. It responded immediately with an account of their nature . . . I feel our only hope is that they have changed drastically since the days of Shevian exploration . . . They are insidious . . . by our standards evil . . . dangerous . . . telepathic wars of conquest . . . Its description of their ships sound like yours, and it has records of a different time rate for their universe and ours, so it is possible that they have not changed enough to make a difference in their threat . . . It says they will come again, more and more . . . It says it knows a defense . . . I don't know what to make of all this, it is in my mind, my thoughts, feeling me every moment . . .

I've heard no word from the Aevafen, or from Chan. My ship is working again. I have power. The Occelon is almost here, and I can go to it at will, but I can't pilot . . . Come carefully, Thia. Have courage, but come carefully. If things go well, Dival and you should be able to communicate with it much better than I . . .

(Malon Signature)

B13

TO: COMMANDER T'ARES MALON

FROM: CAPTAIN THIA CHENEN

Malon:

Friend, my debt to you grows . . . horrible this way - without your aid, it would have been unbearable.

Words aren't coming easily, too many experiences crowding my mind - many I long to forget, but mustn't for they teach the most.

Your help - what the computer showed you in seconds it slowed down for us. Rather than one shattering blow there were a series of lesser shocks spread over nearly an hour - still much too fast, but giving a brief time to assimilate and recover.

Computer contacted us when the Shar da was still a lightyear away. Great gentle inflexible voice in my mind, in everyone's mind. "Thia, if you bring your ship closer I will analyze your mind and report my findings to you." I felt tiny, helpless as a newborn. There wasn't even a thought of arguing, trying to evade. I managed to ask about the crew. "Only you and Taena will be studied." I saw Taena nod, white-faced and frightened, like me. I turned to Falk - started to tell him to take command, and felt his refusal. "Computer, I, too, ask to be analyzed." I've never seen Falk so frightened before, but determined. Then I felt Deden Inser's firm, "Me, too," as strongly as though he were in the control center with me. I touched Slaton's mind and he accepted command. All of this happened in seconds.

Suspecting from your experience that that is where we would soon belong anyway, we all joined Deden in the sickbay and it began. It was a little bit like coming out of High Haven when the pleasant little bubble you've been living in finally pops, but it happened over, and over, and over, 'till my mind was numb, and I wondered why such a twisted creature as myself was trusted to judge any situation fairly.

I realized after some indefinite time that the voice in my mind was silent, not gone, just silent, and that I was huddled in a corner under the fronds of a fern. A nurse, whose only sign of anxiety was in her eyes, was sitting on the floor a few feet from me observing me closely. She handed me a small cup that she said contained something for the shock. I realized she had spoken, that I wasn't picking up everyone's thoughts as I had for the seconds before the 'education' started, and hoped that contact had been broken before I was shown what I was shown.

The medication took effect immediately, and my thoughts became much clearer, the merciful haze that had blunted the edges was swept away. Deficiencies, deceptions, responsibilities to others that I had not fulfilled - all painfully clear. And I had to push them all aside and get back to work. The nurse reported that our people were boarding the Aevafen to help her crew, and that the Occelon was taking care of the people still on the planet's surface.

Taena, Falk, and Deden are in worse shape than I am. I'm not certain why, but I suspect it's simply my greater age and experience. I know myself better; have fewer illusions. I've had more experience with practically anything you can mention, especially with the deceit we practice on ourselves.

I've figured out why Falk and Deden went through this when they didn't have to. They both thought ahead. Now that we've found this computer, ler Shatan hund R in, we will use it, and anyone who uses it will have to be studied by it. Falk went ahead to get it over with. Deden went ahead so he could make it easier for others to face it.

I haven't checked with the Occelon yet, but I doubt if Dival was seriously affected by the experience. Morel I don't know well enough to guess about.

Shatan hund R in has been telling me about the Baaneuns. I'm going after the contact team I sent to their universe as soon as possible. Shatan can supply the equations we need to reach the correct universe. If time does truly run differently there, the team should be safe. The Baaneuns are unlikely to harm them until they reach one of their major planets. Not even then, as long as they hide their true natures from the team, but I sent a very good team.

I want to study the Baaneuns, if possible. They may have changed; unlikely as that seems. If the Aevafen and her crew are in shape to go, I'll take them with me. If not, the Mathfori will do just as well.

I know this message sounds as though I'm nearly back to normal, and while that isn't true, I'm not in as bad a shape as you were - are - I keep expecting a report from someone on the Occelon, about you. The truth does not hurt; it heals. I'm going to have to make some choices about my personal life, but they are going to have to wait until the Baaneuns are no longer a problem, and Zhen is ready to take back his job. By then I'll have decided what to do.

Br v lena dil vavlorani em-lo,

(Thia Signature)

B14

TO: CAPTAIN THIA CHENEN - HIGH CAPTAIN, LFC SHAR DA

FROM: COMMANDER STAAV MOREL - LFC OCCELON

Thia:

The attached report is as comprehensive an outline of - well, everyone's condition as is possible at this time. Even the Occelon is not equipped to handle mental trauma and shock in over five hundred people at once, especially when over half of its staff is among those incapacitated.

I hardly know how to refer to those aboard who submitted, willingly or not, to the Shatan hund R in; are they hurt or saved? Time will tell; those who cannot live with what they have learned may be termed 'casualties', while those who can internalize and grow from their new knowledge may find new beauty in life. I believe Dival will be one of the latter. Even for him there were secrets revealed that will revolutionize his self-image, and if I can keep him isolated until he has assimilated them, he will be well.

For myself, I am content. I have much to think about, much to change. That my future is in Lightfleet I seriously doubt, unless it undergoes some drastic policy changes. From your last message (which Malon gave me to read), I surmise you feel similarly, though none of us know what we will do to protect the Galaxy we have tried so clumsily to serve. Years may pass before I leave the Occelon, but a stage of transition has already been entered. I have a perspective on our nature now that I lacked before, and a perspective on my own needs that insists on action being taken soon to satisfy them.

But first in my thoughts is Malon. If my desires were not so intense, I would already be mentally listing her a casualty. I enclose a part of a message to you that she began; it illustrates her condition. First she will attempt to communicate calmly and rationally, then she rapidly disintegrates into shaky, disjointed expressions of concern for others, then she denies all of her efforts in an explosion of self-disgust, which quickly melts into intense despair. She held herself together until she was aboard and relieved of all responsibilities; now she goes frequently into depressions that mentally and physically incapacitate her . . . Ah, I am falling victim to patterns in myself I wish to change. No more of this formal jargon. Malon screams, fights, must be restrained at times from injuring herself. We have strapped her down twice, but I have, when I could, just held her tight. She is afraid she is losing her mind; her periods of exaggerated calm are products of this fear. She is fighting herself, fighting her new knowledge even while she longs to accept it. She has shared only part of it with me; she is concealing much. For the first time in our relationship, she is denying me mind meld. She has evidently gotten in touch with neurotic patterns in her love for me and is deeply afraid that that love is hollow. I am doing what I can to reassure her; I give her love and support and encourage her to express her feelings, even when I restrain her.

Thia, my own despair is terrible! What can I do for her? I am trying to open up to you; it is very hard for me, a man, a Vulcan, despite my belief in openness. But I feel helpless now, and must accept my need for aid, my inadequacy. I am a psychologist, I am her etanahl, but I don't know what to do! I don't know what to do, Thia. I fear she will not be able to work it out on her own. I want to help her, but my very help threatens her. It is true that her condition is shared by many others on board. Some recovered quickly, others will probably struggle for the rest of their lives without success. I feel that with Malon, recovery will come quickly or not at all. If it doesn't come . . . My life is linked with hers; I don't know what I will do . . .

I'm sure you are concerned about my subjective impressions of everyone's condition; reports can go only so far, and before I commit myself totally to Malon, I want to tell you what I have observed. The people of the Durn a and Aevafen are traumatized, many are hysterical; many are unconscious. The humans, in general, weathered it best; humans are so infinitely adaptable precisely because of the way neurosis functions to shield them from intolerable situations and facts; the release of those shields results in violent realizations that leave them with a sense of freedom and well-being. Callopians and Rigelians are

worse off, but still doing well. The Velonians . . . A mixture of death and rejoicing. Most of the people from the Occelon, benefiting from prior warning, voluntary subjection and Malon's work with the computer, are on their way up toward greater happiness and perception than they had known before. The few Vulcans involved are in serious condition; they face the need to abandon their life philosophies and create new ones, and for Vulcans that is an overwhelming realization. I abandoned mine decades ago; I am prepared to do it again, in whole or in part, and this experience I can share with them and use to reassure them. Chan is functioning and helping, though she speaks constantly of returning to Velona at the first opportunity, feeling, I think, that her need for home and heritage has never been met due to her lanel lack of childhood. Kiro is in bad shape, but from sensing his strength I have hope. He speaks openly of what he learned; much about his suppression of his Klingon training rather than true change in attitudes, much about his denial of himself.

Yet in all this mess, I get the impression that if a crisis came, if the Baaneuns breached the dimensional barrier or if the Galaxy were endangered, four/fifths of those now incapacitated would leap to their posts and do whatever was necessary to protect the young races. In all the despair about the Fleet, there has run a strong thread of truth in its purpose. None of us can live just for the Fleet, but at least there is something there for us to believe in, to reach for and try to make better.

Courage, Thia; let me know how and what you are feeling.

Shev aer eno,

Zhen is on his feet and will be back on duty

within two weeks. He too will face the Shatan

hund R in. Can you help him? He will need

your wisdom and strength.

(Malon's message follows):

B14A

Thia;

Your message arrived, bringing me much-needed relief. My concern for you has been very great - perhaps what might be termed pathological - but from being here on the Occelon I feel any fear is justifiable. The crew of the Aevafen is not doing well. Most of the Velonians are in High Haven and aren't coming out of it. Dival is sadly taxed; he cannot shut out all of the emotions around him. There was another Chena Imai last night and Morel relieved him of duty; he's still in his quarters, though I doubt he's asleep. Morel has, as I might have expected, weathered the experience well, though he is pale and is holding within him a secret he will not reveal. I fear it has to do with me - I do not yet dare ask.

Such turmoil from all these crews - such trauma as we are all faced with truths we never thought we would have to face. The turmoil itself is frightening; that the Fleet's finest ships should be so destroyed by truth. But I cannot help seeing our deaths in this truth. No! I cannot go on! This is nothingness, these words I have written! What is there to say? I who must live with what I know about myself, too frightened even to share it with others, what reason can I reach for that has any significance at all . . . . . . .

(Malon)

B14B

TO: HIGH CAPTAIN THIA CHENEN

LFC SHAR DA

FROM: CAPTAIN DIVAL RAITHAN

LFC OCCELON

Thia;

I have learned much, and the revelations and new understanding pulse and seethe in my mind, my spirit: fears, failures, many things I have denied, sublimated, delayed--lied to myself about--ah, in such slow and subtle ways do we make ourselves other than who we are! I accept the changes that must come, as, I know, do you. I need shevendra--I need to find the proportions of my life. There will be time . . .

But not now, or here. I must deny my needs a while longer; too many others still need help that I can give, and I must try. We do what we can, but Shev! Thia, the fear, the turmoil, the pain--! Sometimes I cannot bear it; my shields are weak--partly Shatan's doing and partly the force of what beats in upon me. Slowly I am adjusting and regaining strength. I must, for Morel's sake; all his care and protectiveness must be for Malon.

Thia, I fear so for her! She is shattered, terrified--she won't let me near her so I know less than Morel, but even the corona effect is terrible. I see the fear and pleading in Morel's eyes, but there is nothing I can do for her eacelbran, nothing she will allow me to do. Ano cathana. But I promise you, I will try to help him, to help both of them.

Forgive me, Thia, I am weary and so much still needs to be done. Yet help has been given and received; some of us have sensed change among our patients and friends and we will soon know, for good or ill. Moravena dal.

Ratha eno seranta shev.

(Dival Signature)

B15

Malon:

I've finally taken a few minutes of time for myself. I'm down on the planet; I've been running and am now sitting on a semi-comfortable stone admiring the scenery.

Just to my left is a small - just taller than me - tree covered with pale lavender blossoms. To the right is a dark tree - its leaves are nearly black, they're such a dark green. Directly in front is an open field in which a herd of long-legged, black-and-tan creatures are grazing. The wind is blowing from them to me, so they are not aware of my presence.

Behind me is a forest - a deep, cool, green, leafy haven from all my cares. In a few moments I will enter it again and run until I must return to the Shar da and my responsibilities.

This is a lovely planet. The beings assigned here will grow to love it. There will be families, and I wonder about the children who will grow to maturity with Shatan hund R in. What will they be like?

Something blue with wings just flitted into the forest and I hear it calling - calling me, it seems. I must go.

Even if life holds no more than this - it is worthwhile. Life is to live, not to do great things with.

(Thia Signature)

B16

Thia:

I must return to Velona as soon as possible - I must find out who I am - recommend I remove Aevafen to safe distance and put all non-critical cases on board and have Security Ships or cruiser (recommend Hezatha) tow ship back to Indel to better facilitate care aboard the Occelon - many of the Corr i Tom urgently need chylani and home winds - I must FIND chylan and home winds - come when you can - we must run together through the ancient forests and learn new songs, you and I-

(Chan Signature)

B17

Chan:

The last of the non-critical cases should be aboard by now, and the security ships ready to take you in tow. I'm sorry I couldn't take your suggestion and call the Hezatha to do the towing, but I can't risk exposing any more fildanten captains to Shatan hund R in at this time. It's bad enough to call the security ship captains in to face her.

They will take you directly to Velona, then the ship will be taken to Indel.

I long to be going with you back to the Esan Voren. You will find what you need in the forests of L ani Eviem and the loving hearts of your chylan. Be the corr you never were. Run the woods free, as the hezatha that blows through them, and some day the north wind will bring me with it when it blows from L a Melion to L ani Eviem. We will go to the springs where the selant is born and be selelev-inali with no cares or worries beyond the next meal.

(Thia Signature)

B18

TO: COMMANDER STAAV MOREL

FROM: HIGH CAPTAIN THIA CHENEN

I don't like this job! It keeps making me do things I don't want to do. I want to be on the Aevafen with Chan heading for Velona and my beloved forests. Instead I sit here in the midst of what I keep thinking of as a battlefield. It doesn't look quite as much like one with the Durn a off the ground and ready to be towed back to Indel, but it still feels like one.

I want to tell you to take Malon to some calm island of peace and devote all your skill to healing her. I can't do that either; I need both of you here. So I am driven to the following suggestion.

The trouble is not that we cannot face the truth; it is just that there was too much to face all at once. Those of us who received it more slowly had less trouble; those who had to keep going with their jobs managed to hold together until they were relieved, because they did not have time to consider all of the truth while doing their job, but were forced to take it bit by bit.

Would it help Malon to put her back under stress? If you think it would, offer her the job she should be doing. It may be more weeks before I can enter the Baaneun Universe, and even with the 15/1 time differential, that is too long to leave the contact team in their hands, if they haven't changed. I need Malon to take the Charisma and go after them. There is no time to wait for an Agent and ship to be sent here from Indel. I would have sent someone else in the Charisma, but there is no one here who can handle it.

My crew is doing well. The few Velonians who seemed to be having any difficulties were sent down to the planet's surface to run. Running has a definite effect on the way a Velonian's mind works. After running a few minutes your thoughts begin to flow with your strides, smooth and even. It is a help in sorting out tangled problems.

B a will be arriving in a few minutes. Tenir is staying three light-years away until we see how B a reacts. My recommendation; not his idea. I don't want two Council members on my hands at the same time, not when we may have to face an invasion at any moment.

If Malon cannot take the mission, let me know as soon as possible. I'll have to find someone to send. She can have almost anyone off any of the ships around here for a partner.

Shev aer lo,

(Thia Signature)

B19

TO: HIGH CAPTAIN THIA CHENEN

FROM: COMMANDER STAAV MOREL

Thia;

I'm sorry I've taken so long to respond to your message, but Malon has taken a long time to decide to accept your idea. I would tell you more about the time of indecision, but I and everyone here, including Malon, are so sick of it that we want to forget it all as soon as possible. She will tell you what she wants you to know.

I will say that under any other circumstances I would not have considered sending her and Kiro off the way we have, and that even now I have doubts. It is difficult to behave with that in mind. Dival intervened when he saw that I was becoming as distracted as Malon; we had an enormous scene in the main medical lounge where he came to talk to me, in which everyone (some twenty people) focused in on me and told me that I had been systematically confusing an already confused situation by being so deeply involved with every word Malon said. My perspective on life breaks down all too readily when it comes to Malon; I love her so much. I was shamefully unreceptive to what Dival told me. I even started to walk out on him, whereupon he grabbed me and held me forcibly. I shook him off more roughly than - well, than I intended, and in the only physical expression of anger I've ever seen from him, he put his foot on my chest and hurled me across the room into some supportive arms, crying "Lo alerasa!" I was almost too surprised to regain my feet. His anger was hot, unabashed and justified, and I knew it, and I stopped blocking out his words and my own feelings and got down to some truths. It wasn't easy, but we're all - especially Malon - much the better for it. Without me hanging over her she mustered her shaken courage and was off the ship with Kiro before I could relapse. Dival is helping me maintain my new perspective, so perhaps I'll be able to work things out.

In all of this, I can hardly find the time or thought to worry about the hazards of her mission; that I must leave to others like yourself (I can feel your gratitude). You will be relieved to know that Zhen is on his way to join us, though he will not resume the High Captaincy until he has faced the Shatan hund R in and then been cleared by Dival, you, Taena and myself.

Shev aer lo, Thia, o irdan

(Morel Signature)

B20

Thia --

Not to seem forest-fevered or anything, but I think our blood is stirring along similar lines. When we have a breather, let us go to Velona and leveta leani hund voreni. I have had enough of space and of this fildanten for now. The Shatan hund R in had given me things, which need to be danced into the pattern of my life. When my frustration and needs come from me in the form of force I know it is time for a visit home, no matter how Morel may assure me that all is well. I know he told you what happened, so I need not explain again, but the memory sits on my mind and presses against my body.

The trees call, the rough shaking of weather, the birth of a caladi on the soft leafy floor of the forest and a Chena Isvelan with the chylan, a walk with an empath, calling to selecheneni over a night sea, a long journey alone to think about many, many things while the forest gives its wisdom to my silent songs. These I am beginning to find in my thoughts more and more, and the paths here don't answer the need.

Leveta aer irdan,

(Dival Signature)

B21

TO: HIGH CAPTAIN THIA CHENEN - LFC SHAR DA Code I

Security I

FROM: COMMANDER T'ARES MALON - LFS CHARISMA Personal

Thia:

I'm back. It was a close thing. It was so strange and tense and I myself was so unstable that - Shev, I can hardly even remember everything.

Kiro and I entered the Baaneun Universe in my Charisma; the transition went without incident. We had basic star coordinates from you, but no real idea of where to look for the contact team. It was Kiro who arranged our communications to pick up the Baaneun Fleet's messages, and who traced vague references and found the Fezgro. If he hadn't, we'd still be there, searching; I don't think I'm thinking straight yet.

Under full scanner shields and at extreme range, we paced the Fezgro for about an hour, scanning its interior. I found it hard to concentrate, I remember; thoughts of you both, of Morel, of those dread hours on the Occelon, all kept coming into my mind. Several times I closed my eyes and clenched my fist on the console as my stomach went cold. Kiro worked steadily, his calm practicality drawing me back, making me function. Shev aer os; he had pain of his own to handle.

All eight members of the team were located in a single area on the Fezgro; my scanners revealed force fields and sealed chambers, indicating that they were being held prisoner. We examined the Fezgro's sensors for a time, and determined that we could make subcom contact with the team without the Baaneuns noticing. We didn't want to effect rescue until we were sure they needed it (false alarms can create terrible diplomatic snarls).

But the team didn't answer our hail. We boosted the impulse as much as we dared, we checked for interfering shields, we even confirmed their subcoms' abilities to receive, and could find no reason for their failure to answer. Our scanners did show that the team was getting agitated; their metabolisms were charging up and they were clustering in groups. Kiro and I were totally baffled. They had to be hearing the signals, but they wouldn't answer.

At this point we received a hail from the Fezgro, demanding to know our identity and business; their scanners had penetrated our shields. After some hesitation I answered, very politely, and told them we were a Lightfleet embassy. There was a short silence, then Yelen came on, sounding warm and friendly, and invited us aboard so that they could "do us honor" and reaffirm our continuing friendship, etc., etc. We said we were very pleased but could we have a word with the Contact Team. Well, he was very sorry but the weren't presently aboard. Kiro and I exchanged glances. Then my hands moved over the transporter controls, and in another moment the team was standing in the room behind us, crowding forward to the control room, all talking at once in surprise and relief.

T'Mir pulled a chair up beside Kiro and her eyes swept the panels. I had turned the Charisma and was keeping well in front of the Fezgro, which was in full charge at warp 12. T'Mir glanced at both of us. "Good to see you," she said with the ghost of a smile. "It has been extremely disturbing to be captives in an alien universe." "Are you all right?" Kiro said shortly, his eyes on the screens that showed the receding, bristly nose of the Fezgro.

She shrugged her eyebrows. "They wanted information. Intensive interrogations, some isolation, some minor attempts at physical persuasion-" "Torture," put in Kiro bluntly. "-nothing serious," she finished. "Nothing our training couldn't handle."

We spoke no more for the moment, because I was putting my ship through a computer-controlled dive into a sun and jumping at the last instant into Inner Space. Another second's work put our home stars on our screen. "Think they'll fall for that Code 9?" said Kiro dubiously.

"Undoubtedly not," T'Mir and I answered together, though- you know, Thia, I'd thought it a good idea when I'd planned it. Yet it wouldn't have fooled me for two seconds, and I knew all along that they have sensors as good as ours. Well at any rate, they didn't follow, so perhaps it was my intuition.

I was bushed, and set the Charisma on return-course to the Shar da's position, then leaned back in my chair and swiveled to face the team. I didn't want their full reports just then, but I did want to know one thing. "Why the hell didn't you answer our hails?" The team - a tousled, tired group they were - stared at me blankly and T'Mir's brow formed a few lines. "Hails?" "Yes, hails. Did your subcoms malfunction?" She shook her head. "I don't recognize your reference."

I might have stammered on for a few more seconds, trying to make sense of her bewilderment, but at this point Kiro moved swiftly and smoothly out of his chair and across the room - well away from the team - and did something useless with a panel there. At the same time he gave me the Code II hand signal for "our friends are enemies". I always trust a Klingon's instinct for danger; I stretched, pretended to swallow a yawn and said, "Let's go back to the lounge and get more comfortable. I want a full report."

They filed obediently back through the ship. When they were all in the lounge and I was at the door, I drew my phaser and stunned the lot of them.

Shev, half our training is tied up around subcoms! How could T'Mir and the team seem so normal and yet have forgotten the existence of their own links with the Fleet? Yet subcoms are a Level IB security issue; in mind-sifter-level interrogations the agents would have forgotten them, automatically, as part of their unconscious training. Yet in that case the team should have forgotten other things, too . . . I can make no sense of it, unless the Baaneuns are enormously sophisticated telepaths, which I doubt.

But if they are indeed such powerful telepaths, then they are far more powerful than we are and we dare not examine that team ourselves; I suggest you go to Organia and ask one of the Larebrani to do it. I think you should tell no one what you are doing, and self-transport to avoid tracing. We are keeping the team unconscious and are heading straight to Indel. Kiro is alerting the Council now; we'll be there in a few hours.

Kiro will rejoin the Aevafen at Indel, and I'll proceed alone to rejoin the Comscin, near Dolentan. I should arrive in your area in three days.

(Malon signature)

B21A

TO: CAPTAIN DIVAL RAITHAN AND COMMANDER STAAV MOREL LFC OCCELON

FROM: HIGH CAPTAIN THIA CHENEN LFC SHAR DA

Dival o Morel;

Malon is missing.

She was to have returned here after delivering the contact team to Indel and while she is not yet overdue, I have been unable to contact her. I can't even get an answer from the Charisma's computer.

Security Ships are tracing her probable route from Indel.

You saw Malon's report before I left for Organia. (I wasn't suspicious of her advice, but I did learn the hard way to make sure someone always knows what I'm doing.) This message from Kiro was waiting when I returned from Organia. It arrived only an hour after I left, but since it was marked personal, waited for my return.

PERSONAL

Thia:

I was born and bred a warrior, and whatever I may have become in recent years I still know when I have something to fear. There is rottenness here, High Captain, and you had best swiftly face it.

Malon and I are keeping our mouths shut, and will keep doing so. She is as danger-wary as I, and knows her business. Shev, had she not even more guts than I we would still be roaming Baaneun space looking for the damned Fezgro. My skin crawled in that space; I couldn't have mastered those communication tracings the way she did for Shev itself.

Kiro

Prad! They are both highly trained, objective agents, yet their accounts contain substantial differences. If anyone had seen both messages, Malon would never have been allowed to leave Indel.

A full report is on its way to Indel. Perhaps something can be discovered by questioning Kiro.

Morel, I don't see what I could have done differently, yet I feel horribly guilty. I will do everything within my power to find her.

Emvertin,

(Thia signature)

B21b

TO: HIGH CAPTAIN THIA CHENEN LFC SHAR DA

FROM: CAPTAIN DIVAL RAITHAN LFC OCCELON

Thia:

I know that if there had been any word of Malon you would have told us, but I'm feeling so helpless that I need the initiative of asking to give me at least an illusion of doing something! You have some solace in directing the search, though I know you don't think so. The Occelon's work has nothing to do--now--with Malon, yet it is done well, even with so much of our minds and hearts elsewhere.

Morel---waits. His strength and perception allow no blame, no withdrawal; somehow, despite his pain, he still gives freely of himself to those who need his help. The crew responds with care and concern which they are too wise to express as reassurance. When he needs more, I give what comfort I can. So far he is bearing up well. We know too much to be without fear but even after so many days, we still hold off despair--oh Shev! I'm not saying anything; what is there to say?! Have courage and hope, astan--we must.

Alosta lon shev,

(Dival signature)

B22

TO: CAPTAIN DIVAL RAITHAN

FROM: HIGH CAPTAIN THIA CHENEN

PRIORITY I (Released to Captain Raithan as part of material needed for medical and security check of commander T'Ares Malon.)

Dival:

She's alive! The following just arrived:

TO: CAPTAIN THIA CHENEN

FROM: COMMANDER T'ARES MALON

Thia, I am not quite sure what has happened. I'm starting this now partly as an effort to organize and calm my thoughts, so forgive me if I'm disorganized. I just woke up in my command chair on the Charisma - in itself strange, since I never sleep in it - and, already puzzled, checked to see how long I'd been asleep and the chronometer told me that 8 days have passed. That is, it didn't tell me until I noticed that it wasn't moving and opened it to the LF general frequency for a reset.

I'm checking the ship's automatic records . . . Nothing. No record of activity at all. Checking scanner records . . . Thia, I'm getting a record of a dimensional warp, looks like an inner space transition. Timed to .05 seconds before the record goes blank. Ship's condition . . . normal: no indication of even normal 8-day deterioration. The only thing I can think of is that the ship has been in some kind of stasis. I'm turning the medical scanners on myself . . .

Well, I've lost eight pounds, and my digestive system is totally empty; artificially so. Blood tests come out low-sugar, as might be expected plus traces of something my scanners don't identify and I can't, with this equipment and experience, analyze. It doesn't look like any drug I've ever seen . . .

What the hell! Have I been missing? Uh . . . right. I've been so preoccupied with all these tests that I didn't notice that my position had changed substantially . . . looks like 47.5 . . . no, 49 lightyears . . . Present location 517/27.739. My engines show no indication of travel. Starting to feel shaky . . . What's going on?

Recommend I rendezvous immediately with the nearest cruiser . . . Damn, I have no way of knowing the present cruiser distribution. Who's near me? Can you inform someone of my location? This is starting to slink in; I must assume my absence has been known, unless the whole galaxy is in the same position . . . Heh, I seem to be losing my perspective . . . Inform Morel, will you?

I feel fine; a little dizzy from low-blood-sugar, a good meal will fix that. Slightly nauseous, nothing serious. I keep checking my records and finding nothing; just blanks. Trying to organize my thoughts. My ship hasn't changed a molecule, but I have. And I don't remember anything; not a thing. I was sitting at my panel, heading for Dolentan, everything was on automatic, I was thinking about . . . Let's see . . . The Shatan hund R in. And then I was waking up all cramped and uncomfortable and stiff and sticky-eyed to all of this. Goddamnit to hell . . .

I've got to eat something . . . Tell me what's going on! Maybe you should make it Code 1 . . .

(Malon signature)

B23

TO: COMMANDER T'ARES MALON

FROM: HIGH CAPTAIN THIA CHENEN

(Released to Captain Raithan re: study of T'Ares Malon)

Malon:

Thank Shev! I had given up hope of ever hearing from you again.

First - closest ship is the Comscin. Course and speed for rendezvous are being fed to the Charisma's computer. ETA four hours. A message is on its way to Morel. The Occelon is still orbiting Dolentan, the planet of Shatan hund R in.

I'll try to tell this in order as though it were a report, not a message to a friend returned from the dead.

After your message I left to consult the experts as you suggested. Prad, why bother to be cautious! I transported to Organia, arriving there safely, but exhausted. After being recharged I described our assessment of the situation to the Larebrani. Oleashan, who has worked with Lightfleet before, agreed to journey to Indel and study the contact team you rescued, and the Baaneun contact team being held captive.

When I returned to Dolentan - taking twice as long coming back and arriving in much better shape - I tried to contact you, and could get no answer. I ordered a search at once. A Security Ship found the place the Charisma left this universe. The most minute examination of the region uncovered no evidence of another ship, so we had to believe you had taken her out by yourself, but it didn't seem likely it was of your own free will. I took the Shar da through Inner Space to the Baaneun Universe, but there was no indication the Charisma had surfaced in the area we scanned. I made the area as large as possible, but Tenir was on Dolentan, and I was uneasy about him with only the Occelon around.

I returned, reported my failure to find any trace of you - gathered my courage and told Morel in person, thinking of the months you spent finding Obar and comparing it to the days I spent looking for you, but all the alternate universes is too large an area to search with no clues, and trouble building behind you.

We were certain the Baaneuns were the cause of your disappearance, so Tenir and I settled down for a long discussion with Shatan hund R in. That damn computer is so vague. Mirror of truth she may be, but she is also annoyingly elusive and evasive. Lingering lack of trust in us, or just the way she was meant to operate? I'd guess the first. She admits we are the descendents of her builders, but that our corrupt methods make us unworthy of her full trust, unsafe to handle all the powers at her command.

By concentrating simply on getting a complete picture of the telepathic ability of the Baaneuns we made some progress. Our conclusion - an alert, lanelized Velonian cannot be influenced by them. Note that carefully, Malon. An alert lanelized Velonian is safe! The Baaneuns are masters of the insidious invasion of both minds and territories. An enemy who can seem a friend until a knife is at your throat, a knife held by your best friend, but controlled by the Baaneuns. Obar and I were very alert when we were among them. We came back with nothing more than some false information, gathered in a straight-forward method. I might have gotten closer to the truth if I hadn't been so damn busy being polite!

Then the reports began coming in from Indel. Oleashan reported that the contact team I placed in the Baaneuns' hands was riddled with hidden compulsions; commands that dissolved too swiftly even under her careful touch to be studied. From the hints of violence she caught, it seems you were wise to stun them, and keep them that way.

After the failure to learn anything from the Shar da's contact team, Oleashan attempted to study the Baaneuns from the Fezgro. As her mind touched that of the first Baaneun, all of the Baaneuns, in their separate quarters, died. In shock over having caused these deaths Oleashan instantly dropped her simulation of a blonde female humanoid and, to the great distress of those in the room with her, became a brightly glowing ball of energy. She was too shaken by this inadvertent violation of her people's philosophy of total non-violence to give a coherent report, or to allow the Council to question her. But before her abrupt departure for home, she stated that she had never felt a death such as these, a dwindling of the mind as though it was retreating a vast distance.

Kiro had rejoined the Aevafen and was behaving normally, but since he was the only remaining being who had entered Baaneun space and returned, he was called to the Council chambers. B a told him all that had happened, and then asked him to give permission for a mind search to see if he carried any Baaneun compulsions. He stood before them and gravely considered the request. He has all non-telepath's usual aversion to having anyone, even those he trusts, poking around in his mind. Then like the warriors he is descended from, he faced the Council proudly and agreed. He was offered a choice of examiners, and to no one's surprise he choose B a. She moved over beside him, and as she touched his shoulder in a gesture of reassurance, he drew his knife and almost succeeded in slitting her throat. Zhen, who was there as an observer, was far enough to the side to have a clear shot, and stunned him. B a was in his mind before his body hit the floor, but she felt only a few dissolving patterns, like bits of smoke carried before the wind, nothing she could decipher. Kiro had no memory of the attack when he awoke.

Melon, go straight to the Comscin. I don't know what I'm asking you to face, but the risk must be taken.

Shev aer lo,

(Thia signature)

B24

TO: CAPTAIN R VIA LFC COMSCIN

FROM: HIGH CAPTAIN THIA CHENEN

(Released to Captain Raithan re study of T'Ares Malon)

R :

Malon should reach the Comscin in a little under four hours. You have seen the report on Kiro. His actions were the result of work done at a distance over a relatively short period of time. In that same amount of time Malon was apparently influenced to return to the Baaneuns.

They have had her for eight days - less by a factor of 15/1 if the time was spent in the Baaneun Universe - but still much too long.

After my initial joy at her return the questions began. Why did they allow her to return? There is no evidence, by her own words, that she escaped. Was she sent back to carry out some specific task? They know - they knew - little of our capabilities, but now they have searched the minds of the contact team, Kiro and Malon. I doubt if we have many secrets left, and with this knowledge of us, they must know we will be suspicious of her after such a disappearance.

Your welcome home to her I fear is going to have to be lacking in warmth, which shouldn't surprise her; with four hours to think, most of these questions will have occurred to her, if her mind is working normally. I wouldn't let the Charisma get any closer than extreme transporter range. I suggest you disarm Malon - if she wears any weapons aboard and confine her, brig or sickbay, until her mind can be checked. Shatan might be the most capable of studying her mind. Wonder if all this was done just to get Malon back near Shatan hund R in?

When Zhen returns from Indel with the Durn a, he'll take back his damn job and I'll be able to quit giving orders like these.

Treat her as gently as she'll let you.

Shev aer lo,

(Thia signature)

B25

Dear Thia and Dival, (Since I haven't written you lately, Dival, I'll just send a copy of this to you, too - hope you like it), I am drunk. In fact, I am very drunk. I trust the recorder will clear out my words into a readable printout - are you doing that, recorder?

(Computer 197XB.79 response to interrogative "AFFIRMATIVE")

That's fine. So this will sound very clear and reasonable and everyone will be happy. Right? I suppose you both want a report. What have I been doing with myself; you want to know? Such a long communication delay, tch, tch. Damn reports to hell - did you record that, you silent little microphone?

(Computer 197XB.79 response to interrogative "AFFIRMATIVE")

Oh, what the hell, leave it. Thia, Dival, I am sitting in one of the Comscin's gardens. Very pretty here, really very nice . . . Um, I guess I should . . . Yes, tell you what's been going on. Yes. Well, there have been many, many, many, many tests on me. Many tests. Telepaths and machines both. Can't say which were more friendly. Tried to kill R , yes, that was one thing, almost forgot that. Only I didn't lose (ERROR)

(Computer 197XB.79 request "PLEASE REPEAT")

Consciousness! Consciousness you little . . . microphone . . . Yes, I was awake and aware, very aware, all through it, ready for it, in fact, after your letter, Thia. I read the reports on Iro - that's Kiro - and the others, knew what to expect. Found myself lunging forward - same physical skill as usual, interesting - and I fought it, doubled up, muscles fighting muscles, you know, screaming "Fire, someone, fire!" and they didn't because they saw I was fighting it and wanted to let me find out what I could, so I kept screaming "Fire" with my whole body cramping until R couldn't stand it any more and did fire. So then I was half-stunned and couldn't see and broke down and cried on the floor, and R was crying too and took me in her arms and as soon as she did I found myself lashing out again . . . damn . . . just damn the whole thing . . . R , I . . . God, I don't know . . . no use, I guess . . . So Ran and R held me - I couldn't do much damage half-stunned anyway - while I shook all over. I was so afraid, Thia, Dival. Ha, still am, here in this garden with this bottle of bourbon; who am I kidding? Later when we all thought it was over I drew my phaser in Impulse Maintenance and fought it so hard I couldn't breathe and had to be rushed to sickbay and a . . . a whatsit thing . . . what's the word . . . respirator! Almost didn't remember that word . . . taking another bit of what-ever-this-is to smooth things over - just a moment here . . . So now I can't trust myself and no one else can trust me either. Handy dandy situation. You know what, Thia and Dival? I don't think these, these flashy violence com-compulsions are what the damned Baaneuns really did to me - to all of us who have been with them. Compulsions are too clumsy, too easily fought, too easily seen. I think these (ERROR)

(Computer 197XB.79 request "PLEASE REPEAT")

Assassination attempts . . . assassination . . . Anyway, I think they're decoys. To make us think we've found what their game is, while all the time they're doing something much more . . . subtle, and dangerous. Even money it has to do with Shatan hund R in. Shatan must be their biggest problem - Shevian computer, probably has powers greater than the Baaneuns. Why was it placed there? They must be wondering. What can it do? I'll stake my life we'll never hear Shatan's purpose from Shatan. I don't think she doubts us - I don't think she ever did. I think that whole "you aren't really Velonians" thing was a . . . a ruse, yes, a ruse on her part. She won't tell us because the damned Baaneuns can probe us any time they like - even you two, even lanelized Velonians, I bet aren't really safe . . . How alert can you stay through the months that are going to pass, hm? . . . Don't kid yourselves . . . They can find out anything we know. Shatan's only chance is to keep the secret of her power a secret, and if the Baaneuns can get into- Oh, Shev. Shev! Dival, Thia, I think I've found out . . . what they're doing to me... with me-

(Malon)

B26

TO: CAPTAINS THIA C HENEN AND DIVAL RAITHAN

FROM: CAPTAIN R VIA LFC COMSCIN

Thia and Dival:

Enclosed are Malon's letters to you both; read them before you read this. I'd like opinions from both of you. Malon is unconscious in sickbay and has been so for nearly seven hours. We think she will be fine, but the strain on her has been considerable. It's been bad here. The worst of it was her own fear of herself. I have the feeling that the Baaneuns could cripple the whole fleet just by spreading the kind of helpless sense of fear that Malon has been experiencing. And my fear, too, of my own close friend. Shev save you both from the experience.

We've been keeping her under guard, but when she went into the garden with bourbon, the guards tactfully stationed themselves outside the door. It was quite a while before they heard a noise that sounded like a choked scream. When they got to her she was out cold.

All we have to go on is the letter she was dictating to both of you, and some cautious telepathy on my part. I've been poring over the letter for hours now, and I think I can guess what she realized. It hasn't been thought possible for one telepath to effect a mind-union with another telepath without the knowledge of both, but that is what I think happened. I think Malon has been carrying a Baaneun intelligence around with her since she left Baaneun space - a thought to make us all shudder, isn't it? A mind in our minds, without our knowledge? And undetectable to other telepaths, as well?

The key to release from it seems to be conscious realization, similar to the way the other "compulsions" vanished upon threat of discovery by telepathic examination. We'll know when Malon wakes up if she is truly free of it - or rather, of the Baaneun - but Donald says he's fairly sure. He says something about her autonomic reflexes being back to normal, though, when I asked if they were wrong before, he squints and says, "Well, not exactly . . ." so I assume it's something rather subliminal.

I think Kiro should be told of all this; he's the only other one - Oh no, I was forgetting the original contact team! All those who were in Baaneun hands for any length of time I consider potential dangers. Thia, I don't know about you and Obar. I suppose we must consider the possibility and I'm sure they're capable of memory work - and no doubt lack Velonian compunctions about performing it. Have courage! It seems that discovery of the truth can bring only freedom and safety. My sympathies, and support, astan! We're taking care of Malon; hopefully she will be able to tell you more herself. (I wonder at the Baaneuns' motive; what do they want to learn? Or do? Some more effective sabotage, performed after suspicions have died? Or information? I wonder if some hint of the Baaneun's thoughts were reaching Malon toward the end of that letter. I'd never heard her express those hypotheses before).

Again, Thia, courage, for you and Obar both. Dival, your empathy in this will be invaluable. Guard yourselves, both of you!

(R signature)

B27

TO: COMMANDER T'ARES MALON AND CAPTAIN DIVAL RAITHAN

FROM: THIA CHENEN

Malon and Dival:

Zhen and the Durn a are back in service, and a great burden has been lifted from my shoulders. Zhen and I met at planet dawn at Shatan hund R in. I spent several hours briefing him before he officially relieved me. He tried to be dignified about it, but I kissed him, then went capering about like a young Avasan, though I doubt any Avasan could have matched my joy, or the lengths of my leaps. It felt as though an actual weight had been lifted from my shoulders.

After a few minutes I quieted down enough to tell him of my decision, and he joined me in a chena hund hana. Yes, I am leaving. No, by the time you receive this, I have left. I am gone. I am on my way home, to Obar, to Velona, to L a Melion, to Chan, whom I will visit as I promised.

This is what I should be doing, I know it, and no one here has tried to talk me out of it. I doubt if you would either, but I still feel the need to explain why I chose this time to follow my own desires rather than carry out the duties I've been trained for. What I'm doing now is what I've wanted for so long I can no longer remember the beginning of the desire. Kahar made it worse, the war deepened the need, the weeks of suspense as you, Malon, hunted for Obar brought it to a peak. Then for a brief time Obar was with me, to both ease and enforce my need for the freedom of the forests and the nearness of my family. When he left, only the fact that I was High Captain held me here. Shatan showed me even more clearly what I wanted and needed, but I was still High Captain.

The time you were missing, Malon, was the finish. I didn't even have the dismal peace of believing you were dead. That can be adjusted to, but to fear a friend is in the hands of enemies such as the Baaneuns is a pain that grows rather than lessens with time. I am going to Obar, to my forests for the peace I need.

I'm going back to Indel on a Security Ship, then take my Chench to Velona. I feel a little - undefended? - traveling without the Shar da. No Baaneun ships have been detected except in this sector of the galaxy around Shatan hund R in, but I have so little faith in the information I thought we had about them that I'm almost convinced they could be scurrying around everywhere without us detecting them. Damn dismal depressing thoughts! Lightfleet can, and will, solve the problem.

Shev aer lo,

(Thia signature)

Dival, sending you this message rather than facing you in person, is a kind of cowardice, but you would ask questions I don't want to have to find answers for.

Malon, tell R I'll keep what she said in mind.

B27a

TO: COMMAND COUNCIL

HIGH CAPTAIN ZHEN LON AN, LFC DURN A

CAPTAIN THIA CHENEN, SECURITY SHIP AVELANDEN

FROM: CAPTAIN DIVAL RAITHAN, LFC OCCELON

SUBJECT: MEDICAL AND SECURITY CLEARANCE OF COMMANDER T'ARES MALON

All medical and telepathic examinations of Commander Malon have proved clear.

Her physical systems, functions and reflexes are normal, coordination and control excellent. No traces of the Baaneun drug remained, and analysis was impossible from the limited information in the Charisma's medicomp; Kestavan and I feel that the drug was in all likelihood benign, intended as another decoy.

She is totally free, mentally and telepathically, of any traces of the Baaneun or its influence. Stress still remains from her confrontation by Shatan hund R in, but it is no longer incapacitating.

I therefore recommend her immediate return to full Class II clearance and active duty status.

Dival Raithan signature)

Thia:

I'm feeling totally drained, simply from overwhelming relief. Now we can be free of all our questions and guilt and fears; sending Malon on that mission was the right decision, for all of us. She let me examine her, and I knew when she gave me permission that the healing had begun; I could have wept for joy at that alone. She still blocked me from much of her mind--still too much that she is not facing, not letting anyone, even Morel, see--but it was not the kind of barrier that could have hidden any Baaneun influence and I knew that she was free and would be well. But she needs peace and time, now that she has begun to accept her new knowledge, and we can't give her that, though I want so much to help. Even Morel is caught between his care and his knowledge. Maybe work will continue to help her, but she needs time for herself, too. Shev aer as.

My thoughts are with her and Morel more than with the Baaneun situation, though my fears about the Baaneuns have proved truer than my worst imaginings. At least Malon has warned us in time, and we might otherwise have found out too late (their choice of her as an agent may have been a crucial mistake); but I leave these worries to Zhen and the Council.

As for you, astan, what questions are you afraid I would ask? I should say I told you so, but the only thing that matters is that you're doing what is right. My thoughts (and envy) and my love go with you.

Tosamira shev,

(Dival signature)

B28

TO: THIA CHENEN (and Obar) cc. Captain Dival Raithan

FROM: COMMANDER T'ARES MALON

Thia:

I am in command of the Comscin now. I don't want to be. I have read and re-read your letter, and it tears at me. R is on her way to Velona too; when she heard of your leaving, it was only a matter of hours before she decided that she too must go. She has been on the ship too long. Ran has been on the ship far, far, too long, but he is one of those fortunate (?) few who can extend their concept of "natural settings" to include space. Even he is strained, his face lined and . . . musty? You know the state. The circuitry gets into your blood like dust, and your thoughts become greyed, your vision sour. But he stays to help me readjust, then he too will go home. And I, who have not been in command for so long, do not want to be here either.

I am all right. I'm not drunk, or sick, or traumatized, or exhausted. I'm tired, but it is a weariness of the mind. Too much has happened, each upon the heels of the other. I can't look back and find a time of peace; I can't remember when last I sat back and relaxed that little knot inside that holds the strings of body and mind taut. An hour, an evening with Morel and Reladan - I hardly know them any more. I think, "I too want to go home," but the bewildering truth is that I have no home. Friends offer their homes for me to visit but it isn't the same. Velona is not home; beautiful as it is, it's new to me, without memories and without that personal bond that comes from belonging. The rooms on Indel are too full of experience, of echoes of pressure and pain, to give peace. Vulcan is beautiful, but its culture has begun to appall me, and the two are inseparable, as Velona is inseparable from the chylani. The culture gets into the earth, the air, the rhythms of the patterns in which one walks. And if I did go to Velona or Vulcan, there would be that ache inside, the ache of being an alien. I can't put that from my heart, and it is useless to try. My body yearns for something that does not exist, I thirst in a land without water.

The ship does well. The strain on the crew has been well managed, and they are rested in the midst of labor. Ran is the only one needing a leave, and he'll get it within a few days. I've consulted with Zhen and we've decided that there is little point in the Comscin remaining in this area. Lightfleet's patrol is suffering for it; all these cruisers clustered, waiting for an unknown event that is not materializing. I myself am free of the Baaneuns; I can feel it, can see into every part of my mind, knowing my freedom now that the threat is gone, the way one knows one's ears were blocked only after they have cleared a crude parallel, but perhaps you can empathize. If I am not free, there is no point in waiting to find out. I could wait all my life, and never be sure. I think opinion here is beginning to change regarding the Baaneuns. There is little LF can do about them. If we persisted, we might maintain our own defense while they attack our interference, but nothing more. We could not prevent them from striking elsewhere, or from entering our space. We must wait, I think, for more information from Shatan. I think it is Shev, not Indel, in whose hands the solution lies. Zhen and the Council feel more responsibility than do I - perhaps because they have felt the Baaneuns' power less that I - or perhaps because the Baaneuns encourage my pessimism. I don't see how we can know which, at this point. We are treading water, but we are out of our depth, and we can't tread forever, waiting, not though we were selecheneni bred and born.

The ship is at once strange and familiar to me, like walking old paths in a dream. But even as I learn its new ways and remember its old, my thoughts are with you. I confess I fear for you; it will reassure me to know you've reached Velona. The Baaneuns must know your importance, and may know your vulnerability. I don't know your schedule and so don't know when or where this will reach you, but if you are still in space, perhaps you might consider putting the Chench n on computer pilot and block all voice commands except for communications until you reach Velona. You could always relay to Indel for an authorized override release order, in case of emergency. At least that would prevent you from leaving this universe - at least, in your own ship. Yet despite it all, your decision, I feel, is nothing but wise. Drink in the voreni, Thia, until you are filled and filled again. To Obar, my greetings and my happiness at his reunion with you, you who had the wisdom and courage to do what you should.

Irdan aer elo

(Malon signature)

B29

TO: COMMANDER T'ARES MALON

FROM: THIA CHENEN AND OBAR RIUM

Malon:

The trip was completely uneventful. I slept much of the way to Indel, spoke briefly to the Council members who are there, and boarded the Chench n. The Chench n doesn't have the capability of switching universes on her own, but your warning had made me uneasy, so I talked my daughter Edar into taking a leave and coming home with me. We took turns at the controls, and I questioned her about the latest rumors on Indel - Shatan and the Baaneuns are the main topics at the moment.

Shatan is being hailed as the greatest discovery since monautal ore, and the Baaneuns are considered as less of a threat than the Klingon-Federation War. I stared at Edar rather blankly after she'd passed on these ideas. They are so far from my opinions on either . . . She nodded at my expression, leaving me with the distinct impression she didn't believe them either, and after I gave her one vague answer, didn't try to question me about the situation. Edar has good sense and is going to be very successful at whatever she decides to specialize in. (I'm rather hoping she goes into diplomacy; she has the subtlety for it.)

Shatan and the Baaneuns are so tied together in my thoughts that I cannot think of one without the other. I wonder if Shatan was activated by their entrance into our universe? We'd had ships around that planet before, but she paid no attention to them.

Enough of that, I am on vacation. At the moment Tha shines down on me as I sprawl under the trees near the major house, tired after a night of woods running and dancing under the moons. It is a pleasant tiredness that will be banished by sleep. Vala, my newest granddaughter, is using me as a pillow, as I am using Obar. He, poor thing, has only the soft moss for his pillow.

"I thirst in a land without water." Malon, I long with all my heart to slake your thirst, but I cannot change your past. I can only offer you L a Melion as a place to build memories, so that someday you can stand here and say, "This is home." In our hearts L a Melion is your home if you ever choose to claim it, and your welcome is as sure as that of any son or daughter of the chylan.

++++

Thia has fallen asleep, Vala cradled in her arms, more for Thia's comforting than Vala's. She is worried about something, and she is trying to keep it a secret from me. We know each other well, and the long separation hasn't changed this knowledge. I haven't pried; she will tell me what is wrong when she can, but in the meantime, I worry about her worrying. It has something to do with you, and the Baaneuns, but your letter makes it clear that you have recovered from your captivity.

Thia contacted Chan early this morning, and we are going to L ani Eviem for a visit. We are going on foot, just the two of us, and even with the worry I am looking forward to the trip. It will take us three or four days and give us a chance to be alone.

++++

Thia again. We leave for L ani Eviem as soon as I finish sending this message. Someone should know what I'm doing, and since Obar has already told you I'm keeping secrets; it should be you. Obar has a Baaneun in his mind. (I must have had one too, but I went straight from that contact to Shatan.) I have sensed it, but have not dared to try studying it, or to let Obar know of its presence. Chan is a much more subtle telepath than I. She may be able to touch it, trace it back, discover something about them. Can they maintain such a contact from one universe to another, or is the Baaneun in contact with our universe? The fact that they withdraw as soon as they are discovered indicates they think they have something to fear.

I hope . . . I hope for many things, among them the freedom to enjoy, with no ulterior motives, what I've come back to.

Shev aer lo,

(Thia signature)

B30

DIRECT SUBCOM RELAY - THIA CHENEN - VELONA

(Authorization - Security Council: Tenir)

Thia, please forgive this intrusion. I'm sending it through the Security Council to permit it to go straight to your subcom; it's a recorded message, and you can stop it long enough to get alone if you need to.

I think you are in very great danger. The Baaneun in Obar is of unknown strength and of unknown intentions, but the little we know of the Baaneuns indicates that their prime modus operandi is to control the minds near them. He may attempt to infiltrate you as well, or to prepare you for infiltration by another. He may suspect your intentions and kill you to prevent your interference. Killing Obar would be literally as easy as a thought. I would not rely on Chan or any other lanel telepath; I think you should go straight to Dor . His telepathy is Shevian; he may have a chance and he has memories to call on for experience. He is on his way to L ani Eviem and will be there when you arrive, but if he's delayed, wait for him.

There has been massive Baaneun infiltration on Indel. When I got your message I stared at the section about Indel's reaction to the Baaneuns for about one minute, then I called the Security Council. Fonder's face appeared and I said, "You have a Baaneun in your mind." I didn't know it was true, but it was the only way to find out. He looked startled, then- well, from experience I know that it's like being exploded from the inside. He went over backward tearing at his head and the room went into chaos. Within seconds Abraln, and B a thrashed and went down. Tenir made a rapid jump for emergency city broadcast and within thirty seconds the city was in pandemonium. Nearly a hundred Baaneuns were detected immediately, and more are still being found in non-telepaths who need telepathic aid to make the discovery.

All the Fleets have been notified, and I've heard of one Baaneun on the Hezatha and two on the Hil zan. More ominous: seven on the Encoti Time Base, which is recalling all its ships. The entire fleet is on Code I Class I Security. Indel is like an armed camp.

It has become obvious that the Baaneuns must be dealt with now; no more delays, no other priorities. Nothing can be done until we know what they want and what they intend. The Comscin is heading for Terigren, the seat of the Federation Council, at warp fifteen; cruisers and security ships are heading for Shabas and all the other power centers to test for infiltration. In the meantime, the Council of Ancients is convening on Indel and will make contact with the Baaneuns as soon as its strength is gathered. Ayelbourne himself is participating this time. Shatan has created an enormously powerful field around Dolentan and seems to be preparing for a vast energy expenditure, nature unknown.

The xenopaths are at this moment spreading the word on Velona. Obar will not receive it until Dor informs the planet that he is free. I won't prolong this; you need all your attention for Obar, and for yourself. Courage and wisdom, astan!

I have more sympathy and concern for you than I dare show now, Thia; Shev aer Obar! But for now, too much must be faced and done. Hold yourself strong. As I said once to Fonder: when this is over, there will be time for friends to meet and share their feelings

Malon

B31

TO: COMMANDER T'ARES MALON

FROM: THIA CHENEN AND OBAR RIUM

Malon:

We survived. Surprise still lingers in my mind as I repeat the words. We survived.

Your message shook me, and had we been alone I doubt I could have concealed the shock from Obar. Luckily most of the chylan had decided to escort us on the first miles of our journey. I edged away from Obar and listened to the message while running beside Elia. As you know she is as strong and steady as the forests where she has spent her life. Without even knowing what was wrong she helped me over the worst few minutes. By the time we were alone I had accepted the fact that our journey through the woods could end with Obar's death, or my own, or both. But I couldn't brood over that fact for the whole trip without Obar discovering what was wrong, so I forgot it completely until we felt Chan's welcoming thought as we neared L ani Eviem.

Chan said she was coming to meet us, and she did, miles north of the nearest other Velonians. We were crossing a grassy meadow when we sighted her waiting for us at the edge of the woods. We loped across the short springy grass and came to a stop in front of her. Then, though there had been no hints of the minds, Dor and Sharna stepped out of the trees behind her. I was expecting something along that line, and was ready to follow Obar's thought. He intuitively connected my worry and Dor 's sudden appearance, and the Baaneun (I deduce, I never directly read any of the Baaneun's thoughts) followed his thoughts and knew it was an attack aimed at him. Obar fell; he was not breathing, his heart was not beating. The Baaneun had snatched control of his autonomic system, and stopped it, before withdrawing. Having had a little practice in such matters (remember Vegladar 7?) I slipped into place and started everything working again. Obar didn't regain consciousness for five minutes; he would have been dead if there hadn't been someone there who knew what to do.

While I was taking care of Obar, Dor , Chan and Sharna were Baaneun-hunting. Dor had touched the Baaneun's mind, and while he could not hold it, he managed to maintain contact when it withdrew from Obar's mind. They are truly alien from us in a way I cannot quite define. The mind invasion was being maintained between universes, though it can't be initiated that way. Dor , Chan and Sharna bridged the . . . the gap between Universes with the Baaneun. Chan has shown me the glimpse she got of it. It is an empty place where nothing, not even time exists. If you dare to try to understand it while you are there you can feel your mind thinning, dissipating as it seeks for something upon which to fix itself. Here in this place of nothingness the Baaneun turned to fight. If Chan and I had tried it alone as I planned, neither of our minds would have survived, but I think our bodies mould have lived to be worn by other minds, Baaneun minds. Here at last Dor managed to hold the Baaneun mind, to force open the layers upon layers of subtle lies they hide behind, to reach the core and learn their true goals and motivations.

For twenty thousand years the Baaneuns have been spreading across their galaxy in a plan whose goal is total conquest. They are too jealous of their power to be a terribly numerous race and so are spread thin, only a few thousand on each conquered planet to control the local native rulers. This method normally is successful; they have overrun two thirds of the galaxy, but recently - in the last few hundred years - they've encountered some race they can't manipulate. Dor couldn't be certain whether it was a race of more powerful telepaths, or simply non-telepaths whose minds the Baaneuns can't reach. They have always used their telepathic powers for conquest rather than engaging in actual combat, but now they have a situation where war is the only approach possible. They're discovering that a space fleet from the conquered planets with only a few Baaneuns in command, runs or surrenders, after those commanders are killed.

The news of this successful resistance has spread - slowly - to some of the conquered planets. Taking heart from the knowledge that someone has defied the Baaneuns; they are revolting. The planets are thrown into chaos when the people kill their own Baaneun-controlled rulers, and they kill any new rulers that arise. Rather than submit again to Baaneun rule, they are keeping their planets in a state of anarchy.

After twenty thousand years of unqualified success, this setback and revolt panicked the Baaneuns and they began planning a bolthole in case of real trouble. A few years before the first revolt, a group of scientists on a conquered planet had discovered how to travel between Universes - knowledge immediately suppressed by the Baaneuns - but now the Baaneuns put the method to work, and found us. They intended to subvert Lightfleet, and using our personnel and hardware, to take over the rest of the galaxy.

Lest you think that trouble in their home galaxy might divert their attention from us - they've lost only two planets in the last fifty of their years.

Sharna is calling me. There are plans to be discussed.

Evartin o emvertin,

(Thia signature)

B32

TO: THIA CHENEN AND DIVAL RAITHAN

FROM: T'ARES MALON - LFC COMSCIN

Thia and Dival:

What a mess this is. I'm so tired that this is bound to come out garbled and ill-organized, but I suppose there are enough other people running long hours that frazzled letters are the norm these days.

The Comscin is in orbit around the planet of the Federation Council. Even holding this orbit isn't easy, with all the ships (some with dangerously sophisticated detection equipment) coming and going, all the transporter beams to evade and all the small-craft activity. We have ten agents down on the planet - our best lanel telepaths, Ran among them - trying to spot likely hosts for Baaneuns, but Shev damn us all! It's an impossible situation! According to Ayelborne there are seven Baaneuns here, but we can't actually probe for them without inciting them to flight and possible host-murder. Nor can we warn the hosts without revealing our presence. And yet we have to work fast before the Baaneuns manage some final destructive manipulation that Lightfleet might not be able to repair.

It makes it worse to know that the Baaneuns fully anticipated this situation. This was in fact their plan of conquest; to create problems in the Galaxy that Lightfleet would be forced to solve in such a way as to eventually reveal its presence to the younger Powers. Destroyed by our own nature, by our own commitments! That is what the Baaneuns intended . . . and it may yet happen. We still must do what they planned for us to do, risking everything as they knew we must; we must get the Baaneuns out of the Federation Council before they cause a Federation/Romulan War - yet to this moment I don't know how we're going to do it without causing a sensation that will rock the Galaxy to its foundations.

Our telepaths must be physically close to the hosts to detect - and thus expell the Baaneuns. Such close contact must happen simultaneously to avoid warning some of the Baaneuns and giving them time to do damage to their host or Shev knows what else, and to avoid creating excitement and heavy security that could hinder or prevent individual action. This means ten or even more Velonians stepping up to ten or more high-ranking Federation officials and performing a telepathic probe that will result (if we're lucky) in seven Baaneuns fleeing and thus revealing themselves to their hosts. Not what you would call subtle.

I guess you both already knew about the Baaneun in Korenkar. Everyone seems to have known about it except me and my ship. Morel was the only one who seemed to think I ought to know about it; he sent a message that reached the Control Center this morning. I was sitting on the edge of the scanner console checking our orbit, and I sat there for a long time rather blankly, wondering how to feel. I still don't know how to feel. Okay, at least we know now why Korenkar behaved as he did; his behavior - the slaughter of his people and the whole disastrous war - never made sense before. Now it does. Horribly, it does. How long was he in its grip, do you suppose? Who would he have been without it? Was he aware of it? Did he ever try to fight it? He was an unwitting victim - or perhaps I was the unwitting victim, and he knew all along, but couldn't get it out, couldn't tell anyone or get help from anyone with the Baaneun in his mind every second, sleepless. He was a tool, a tool shaped to force Lightfleet's hand. And the plan worked perfectly. The Klingon populace lives happily in a pleasing illusion, but the Royal Family knows it was not a Kahar agent who killed Korenkar. The seed has been planted. And now fourteen more Lightfleet agents comb Shabas seeking hosts, and a mass confrontation must occur there as well, and quickly, before the new pogrom starts; the one the Baaneuns are devising, the one that will wipe out all of Korenkar's supporters and decimate the population yet again. What will the Klingons think? Our nature will be clear to them; they will understand that we exist and that we have rescued them from the Baaneuns - and that is all they will know. But it is far, far too much.

Shev aer Korenkar . . . *His death was inevitable, once he was on Horzellon. Don't fear; I recognize that no error was made. My action was necessary, as the Baaneuns knew it would be. Five more years of such necessary actions, and Lightfleet would dissolve, Indel cleared of its traces, its ships flown into suns in the turmoil of its discovery by the Powers. Yet I wonder if even now we can avoid that sudden end. We face now a set of necessary actions which . . . Shev, how can we possibly pull them all off?

We would have no hope at all if we lacked telepaths of Dor 's and the Council of Ancients' caliber. Knowing the Baaneuns' plan is our only hope at present. That, and the determination of the Council to expel the Baaneuns altogether. They debate now how to do that. Shatan's accumulated power has exceeded direct measurable proportions; Zhen hazards that of two hundred supernovas. She prepares for something greater than the Galaxy has known since its conception. A destruction of the inter-dimensional bridge, perhaps? She is saying nothing.

In fact, I have very little further fear of the Baaneuns. My concern now is for what will soon happen on the planet below, and on Shabas and at the heart of Romulan, Tholian, Gorn, etc., governments. The Baaneuns did their planning well.

I praise Shev and your own power, Thia, that their planning failed around Obar. It is one of the joys we can cling to in the middle of all this.

Later . . . I've received word from Ran. The twelve most likely hosts have been located and confrontation will occur in one hour. They are those people whose behavior has led with unusual force toward war. War . . . Sometimes you can hear a harsh laugh on the ship, harsh and out of place, bitter in some inappropriate silence. The Federation/Klingon war; millions dead, planets razed, ships turned to gas, refugees and mourning, Korenkar dead . . . Yes, a nice trick for the Baaneuns to play. Very effective.

Perhaps I'll reach Indel before this reaches you. I hope to see you there. It will be a time of waiting, and of councils.

Shev aer elo.

(Malon signature)

__________

* Korenkar - see Vol. II, AU4

B33

TO: THIA CHENEN AND DIVAL RAITHAN

FROM: T'ARES MALON

Thia and Dival:

It is over. It was very bad, though I guess it could have been much worse. How were any of them to manage as well as Dor ? God damn! I can't blame myself, but I do.

Two of my friends are dead, and other is badly injured. The Baaneuns are driven out, and . . . What have we done!? The Federation is in an uproar, messages fly . . . My ship is hardly able to maintain thrust. We are injured, half the crew is down, I've wrenched something in my leg which . . . God damn.

We gave the signal, and all twelve lanel telepaths were ready. That much we could do. The five whose subjects turned out Baaneun-free made their escapes immediately by self-transporting, and I think all five of those subjects remain ignorant that their minds were scanned. But the other seven, those who had Baaneuns and experienced the exodus, those knew trauma and violence and death.

Chira was successful; she seized her subject from behind and paralyzed him, and the battle with the Baaneun took only a few seconds. The Baaneun had had no warning at all, not even the half-second that made so much difference to Vonair's Baaneun - Shev aer lo, Vonair! Cailein was successful too; she and Chira reached the Comscin before the firing began. But the others . . .

Olian's Baaneun had nearly two second's warning; the host was in a crowded room and Olian had to push past two people who were suddenly in the way. The Baaneun took full control of its host and attacked Olian with a knife. Between attacking the Baaneun telepathically and defending himself physically, Olian favored the first effort. He expelled the Baaneun the instant before he fainted, his abdomen laid open, and lay gushing black blood while the crowd and the host yelled and panicked and fussed and gathered a full thirty seconds-worth of mediscan data before we beamed him up. Word of the commotion got to the Council head who issued a red alert which went into effect barely in time to detect our transporter beam, so they knew all too soon that there was an undetectable ship in orbit. The Intrepid II was in orbit and its Vulcans did some fast calculations and determined four possible locations for us. Immediately phaser fire was darting about, coming from the less responsible ship captains, and scanners were trained on us from six sides.

Roia had reached her host quickly and the Baaneun fled, but the host was confused and thought she was the Baaneun. He was instantly aware of the nature of the Baaneun manipulation, and in fear and rage (and, I must admit, courage) grabbed her and yelled for help. She was pinned by four and then six men and fought like hell Velonian style, with those lashing kicks. Word got to the already alerted Council Head and Military Security that it was an invasion of telepaths, and word went to the Intrepid to disable the alien ship. So the Intrepid, having located this odd hole in space where the Comscin was, opened fire. Heavy fire. New weapons designed for the Klingon war, and half-adapted from what was learned from the dismantling of the Keveri. With us unable to move, our defense shields were rapidly battered past their capacity and we went visible. The feeling of helplessness as our ship glowed into view - the coldness I feel inside at the memory is only an echo of the despair I felt at the time. And we had to wait, even yet. Roia self-transported up through the barrage and arrived beaten and bleeding from the fight and with a power level of twenty-seven from flying through the barrage.

Ran's Baaneun had maybe a half-second's warning. It evacuated its host instant-ly and entered Ran. lie fell to the floor thrashing, trying to keep his heart going, fighting with lanel energy so that he was glowing as in Chelacrev. It fought for perhaps a minute, then left him, but he was delirious with a thirty-five-node power level - and fear and horror - and lay sobbing and calling aloud in Velonian for "Astani! Chylan-ano!" with people around him and tri-corders flashing until we found four seconds in the barrage to get our emergency shields down and beam him up through the regular scanner shield.

That left Vonair. Vonair, one of my first friends on the ship, status officer, a feeling, warm, sensitive person whose Baaneun tried to kill his host. Vonair went down on his knees and took the host's head and, as you, Thia, did with Obar, sustained his body functions as the minutes went by. There was nothing we could do. The Comain's shields were broken through and there was just the neutronium hull between us, and oblivion. The hull held, but our thrust plates were going at a steady rate - but Shev, astani! We couldn't leave Vonair there, we had to wait for him; he would fly blind through all the radiation and materialize; we had to be there to give him shelter or he would hover blind in space, his power level already barely high enough for him to re-form. We waited in the barrage while, steady and careful as always, he returned life to the host, in the center of a crowd, like the others. Then he dematerialized. At the same moment the planet activated its planetary defenses. Vonair never reached the ship. We waited and waited. Word of all the activity had gotten to the rapidly assembled Council and they ordered the cessation of the barrage. In silent space we waited, ignoring their calls, safe from their scans, a silent silver crescent with melted thrust plates. They learned no more of us than they had known when we first hazed into visibility; they had no way to learn more, and we knew it. We took the extra minutes. Vonair never arrived.

And Raveir . . . He pursued the Baaneun he discovered out into space, telepathically, not self-transporting. It led him; it had a hold on him. Too fast for us to join and help, though every telepath aboard froze rigid as their minds flew out desperately trying to help him. He was giving it full battle, and he was still in full battle, unfaltering, determined yet crying out his despair at the knowledge of what was to come, when the Baaneun drew him out of our universe and his mind was silent. We had beamed his body to the ship for his return; it lay empty, forever to remain empty.

We got our cloaking screen back up, and managed warp two. They had no way to scan us, and the Council was just assimilating with certainty the evidence that we were friends, and possibly invaluable ones, so there was no attempt to track us down and disable us again. We crept away, half the crew down from the shaking of the barrage or from shock. I managed to get a report to Indel, and Tenir was sobbing, when I talked to him, over the news from Shabas. I heard the Shabas scene was even worse than ours - I haven't had the heart yet to find out what happened. Were either of you there? Shev, my crying isn't helping, it isn't even helping me anymore.

So what will happen now? The Federation knows so much. They know the Baaneuns have been around for years; they know we were responsible for getting rid of them, they know we are unknown, unknown in race and ship design and technology and intentions. They feel we are benevolent. Their bumbling, good-hearted efforts to locate us could ruin everything. The alert to Starfleet could be disastrous, making our operations far more difficult, if not impossible. I suppose there is a glimmer of hope in the idea that most of the Powers (with the possible exception of the Gorns, who are so fiercely independent) will find some possibility of unity in their common experience of discovering us. It could just as easily lead to mutual suspicion and even new aggression. The only solution to the latter, as I see it, would be for us to reveal ourselves and then disband, to relieve the doubt as to our origins.

Yet, perhaps I'm just buried in the mess of my ship and my grief, and it really isn't that bad. Perhaps they will search for us to no avail and forget us or continue their lives more or less unchanged. Yet there will always be minds wondering now, people putting facts together, tracing rumors and legends. It seems like the beginning of a remote end . . . at the best.

Shev aer elo, astani. I have my ship to cherish, for the moment - a kind of last simplicity, in the midst of despair, that is a sad peace.

Malon signature)

B34

TO: T'ARES MALON AND DIVAL RAITHAN

FROM: OBAR RIUM

Malon and Dival:

The beginning of a remote end . . . It might be best for Velona if that end is not too remote. The burden grows heavy, and some of us begin to question its weight. Why should we not die peacefully among the trees, on the plains and mountains we've found to replace lost Shev? Why must we seek early deaths on strange worlds?

These are the questions I ask myself, as I sit in the Shar da's sickbay waiting for Thia to wake up. She didn't have to return to the Shar da. They could have managed the clearing of Shabas without her, but she loves the Klingon people, so we rushed from the shattered serenity of Velona to face death and destruction.

Shev - she doesn't even know who was lost. Everything happened at the same time, and by the time we had our losses sorted out, she was unconscious. When she wakes to what should be peace, that news will be waiting for her.

There are few true telepaths on Shabas, but they are a race of warriors, and many have a sixth sense that warns them of impending trouble. By the time Thia and I arrived all our lanel telepaths were in position, and Shabas was on stand-by alert, as unstable as a sun ready to nova.

We had fourteen telepaths on search - eight drew blanks and immediately transported to the Shar da. One of the Klingons scanned was sensitive enough to detect it. He had the palace complex, where most of the targets were, on Intruder Alert in fifteen seconds, and the fleet looking for a ship ten seconds later.

Almost all the following action took place in the same ninety seconds and it is only now, nearly an hour later, that we have the events sorted out.

Elar had no trouble. His subject was immobilized, the Baaneun ejected and Elar was on his way back to the ship before the Klingon hit the floor.

Encalbran chylan hund D den, olenan-elo enta ada thol, ancha surtena os leva-thila hezatha tosha Liant hund Chantel.* D den was lucky, we thought. He caught his subject alone, but the Klingon became suspicious at the last second. He shouted, tried to fight and did manage to draw a knife before D den paralyzed him. The Baaneun fled, after stopping the host's autonomic system. The guards drawn by the shout, charged into the room to see D den, knife in hand, kneeling over a motionless body. One guard used his phaser set on stun, but the other's knife slashed D den's throat. He died still trying to restart Kolfarin's heart, and the prince died with him.

Bila had no trouble with the Baaneun, but the Klingon host broke her arm before she could transport back to the ship. She had to be transported unconscious out of a roomful of guards. That gave the Klingon ships the fix they needed. Two of the Keveri-class ships were in orbit; we managed to stay invisible for thirty seconds in their cross-fire. The deflectors held, as we hovered there in a halo of deadly light as we waited for our telepaths.

Falk's Baaneun fought back, rather than withdrawing. The host understood the battle raging in her mind enough to realize that Falk was losing. She gained momentary control of her body, and not knowing that help for Falk and her was only seconds away, stepped into an open electrical arc so her body could never again be used by her Empire's foes. All three of them died. We recovered Falk's body, but there is no mind, and soon the body will be dead.

Ulisa was following her target down a crowded corridor. He got a step too far ahead and the Baaneun had two second's warning. Ulisa walked into a knife. Ovlen, whose first target had been clear, transported down, materializing at the edge of the crowd. The Baaneun was gloating over Ulisa as she died, but fled at the first touch of Ovlen's mind.

The last target was the Empress Malvara. Aliashan, the strongest telepath of the group, was assigned to her. He entered the office where she and three of her aides were working with a case of dispatches. He didn't dare try to physically touch the empress, but he was placing the dispatches on the table beside her as the time arrived. He scanned, found, and evicted a Baaneun in Malvara's mind, and realized there was another Baaneun in the room. One of the aides that no one had suspected was also a carrier. Aliashan called for help from the ship as he stepped in front of the empress and took the phaser stun aimed at her.

The palace shield went up just then, and the telepath who had been ready to go to Aliashan's aid paused. Unless you know the pattern it can take all your energy just to penetrate one of those shields. Thia was the only one on board who knew the shield well enough to broach it, and still have the strength left to handle the Baaneun. She went, even though she was wearing no disguise. So, as Aliashan was falling unconscious to the floor, Malvara was assimilating the knowledge that she'd had an intruder in her mind, and the second Baaneun was turning the phaser on the other two aides, a Velonian materialized in the center of the room. Thia attacked telepathically as the Baaneun swung the phaser toward her. The Baaneun was ejected, but the Klingon could not regain control of her body in time to avoid stunning Thia.

Someone was beginning to sort out events, and at this point the barrage aimed at the Shar da ended. The transporter room already had a fix on Aliashan and brought him up. As his body vanished, Malvara darted across the room and stood over Thia's body. There was no way to beam her up without bringing the empress, too. She'd already seen one Velonian, I couldn't see that another would make much difference. I transported down, bowed politely to Malvara, and explained in my best Klingonese that I must take the woman back to the ship. Malvara hesitated, cataloging every detail of our appearance, then nodded and stepped aside. I scooped up Thia and they transported us back to the Shar da. Thank Shev that Klingons believe in paying debts.

All of our people, alive or dead, were back on board, and we left the system quickly with one of the new ships on our tail. Daavid got the shields back in working order, we went invisible and lost them without having to show them how fast we can go. One small secret saved.

Taena is holding together a badly shaken ship, and I know Thia and I won't be returning to Velona. Thia would never leave the ship in this shape, and I won't go back without her, not until I have to.

They've seen our ships; they've seen us, and I'm sure the Klingons will share that bit of information with the Federation. They have scanner records of beings that read as Klingon or Federation races, and yet obviously aren't any of those.

Is there any more good news?

(Obar signature)

________

* Cry, family of D den, your son is no more; never again will he race the wind across the Field of the Sky.

B35

TO: T'ARES MALON, THIA CHENEN, AND OBAR RIUM

FROM: DIVAL RAITHAN

Over . . . Is it really? Even after all that has happened - after all the shock, death, loss, disaster - ah, tecun! I still want to curse and retch and cry as I think of it! - even with what Dor discovered - what do we know of the Baaneuns? They are expelled from this universe, at least those we know of; dare we hope that if there were any others, they took alarm and fled too? Will they avoid this place now, or will they try a different way? When I reach for hope, there is nothing to hold on to.

Forgive me, my friends. You need help and comfort, and I am still too deep in my own shock and grief to give them. I am alone in the forests of Dolentan, where I received your messages. We have had to stay here to help those who must still face Shatan hund R in, and not even this emergency could release us. Fonder is the most recent Council member to come, and I could not leave a charge and a friend so important; he is beyond the crisis now and assimilating the experience well, though it has always been worse for the Councilors than for others. All the self-deception, the doubt, the errors in ourselves that we faced in Shatan are multiplied for the Councilors, for they must bear the ultimate responsibility for the Fleet, and will bear the same ultimate responsibility for the changes that must come. Sometimes I wonder that they still live and keep their sanity. And now the Baaneuns force what may be the beginning of our end upon us in the deaths of our friends and of those we have striven to protect. Ratha eno evara, how much will they end? What do we face?

But all the questions must stand aside for this time and leave us to our grief. Oh my friends, how much have we lost, and to what purpose? It is as well I was alone here when I got your messages. I think for a moment I went a little mad with shock and rage and grief, all control gone. I was able to tell Morel to play your tapes to the ship. Then I cut contact and simply huddled there, shaking with sobs, even after the tears were gone. I was sick . . . the horror of Raveir's death, the uselessness of D den's (my old friend never again . . . never), -praise Shev Ran came through it all right . . . I'm still scarcely coherent, it's too new and too strong, too many thoughts and feelings. When I got up, I just ran, and ran and ran, without really seeing the forest around me. I rest now, and send this message which will not make things any easier for us, but which must be spoken (it is a kind of tears, Malon). There is too much grief and pain for us to seek answers or understanding; this is the time of the heart - the time for the head will come later, when our hearts are freer and have found their measure of wisdom. Will you come to us here, or return to Indel? I long to see you again - to meet you, Obar - to help and to be helped. Perhaps in the sharing of our love and grief, we may find the seeds of the wisdom we need.

The sun is far westering; I will go and find a hilltop for a Chena Cathan. It seems fitting to mourn the deaths of our friends - and who knows, the beginning of the death of the Fleet, and our long purpose - in the light of this day's death. Such a death has beauty and may give a kind of hope. Think of me, my friends, as I think of you.

(Dival signature)

B35a

LAMENT FOR D DEN

He is dead and we who remain are lonely -

Never to see him again,

Never to hear his voice again,

Save as a shadow and an echo in our memories.

Though he is dead, the love we bore him is not.

Our loss is bitter and the pain keen as the knife that killed him.

He, who sought only to heal.

His death cost two lives, and took away part of ours.

We are less without him.

Never again his laugh, his song,

His kindness, his gentleness, his joy.

Why?

Oh friend, if on the paths beyond you have found the meaning,

If you see the pattern of the dance,

Tell us,

For we mourn, and are lonely.

Dival Raithan

B36

TO: All Lightfleet Personnel

From: Lightfleet Command Council

Astani

You all know what the situation has been regarding the Baaneuns. They have forced our hand, and we have taken action throughout the Galaxy, at the seats of the interstellar governments, to expel them from their unwitting hosts. We may count our actions as successful; the Council of Ancients informs us that even those Baaneuns whom we missed have fled with their fellows. No Baaneuns remain in our universe.

But the cost has been high, astani. Some of us have not survived it. Our grief is deep, and enduring, for those who were lost. There is no replacing any of them; we must change with their deaths into new people.

On the Durn a, at Romulus, were lost Zhen Lon an and Tianea.

On the Shar da, at Shabas, were lost D den, Falk and Ulisa.

On the Comscin, at Terigren, were lost Vonair and Raveir.

On the Orial, at Goraish, were lost Sharnaan Rivili, Tevelanin, Dilaia and Relia.

With Zhen's death, Thia Chenen is henceforth High Captain of the Cruiser Fleet. Would that she could have assumed the responsibility for happier causes.

The intentions of Shatan hund R in remain unknown, but she has ordered her sector vacated. This is no small directive, but we must respect it. The Comscin, Shar da, Orial and Durn a are to proceed there at once and alert the sector's inhabited planets to the necessity of an exodus, and supervise the process. The cruisers and attendant security ships are to maintain total invisibility at all times, and give as little information as possible. It is hoped that the planets will respect our good intentions and will obey without further assurance, since they are under Federation jurisdiction and the Federation Council is issuing positive statements about our actions. Force or threats are not to be used; their right to resist must be respected. The existence and intentions of Shatan are not to be mentioned. No reason for the exodus is to be given outside of a warning of an impending dimensional catastrophe. When the exodus is complete, the Lightships are to maintain a border patrol of the sector to keep it free of ships.

The Federation and Romulans are issuing general calls to us assuring us of their good will and asking us to communicate with them. It goes without saying that these requests are to be ignored.

All communications are to be transferred immediately to Emergency frequencies. The Klingons have deduced the existence of our communication network and are scanning for it.

We are temporarily ceasing all recruitment, and suspending most projects. We must be extremely careful, astani. This is a time of great danger, perhaps the greatest danger Lightfleet has faced. In many ways, we are reduced to hope.

Emvertin aer elo.

(Tenir Signiture)

B37

Thia -

A dry report to the Fleet, and my spirit tired and dropping in the dust. Too much to do, and the crying desire to lie down and fade out of it all, perhaps forever. At least I haven't the strength for a Chena Imai, even if I had enough strength of will.

Zhen is gone - Shev, I want this grief to end! It is a pain I can no longer stand to bear, still deathly after all these days. My mind charts the dead - Zhen, Sharnaan, D den, Falk, Vonair, on and on - and grows numb, then panicky as something swells inside me, something that grows fearsome and tearing. I crush it down, thoughts flying fast, seeking free air, silence, survival. I speak to you and it returns afresh - Zir, we must go on, against our crying need to fall and know no more.

The ships that have lost people - the Shar da, Durn a, Comscin and Orial - need time to move in steady patterns and learn their new identities, to regain their energies and smooth their shattered lives. Go to Ukrali, Thia, and get its population out of Shatan's sector. You have the strength to summon your crew's energy and shaken will to the task. We mustn't sink into grief now, as at the end of a hard run we must keep moving or stiffen into death, so now must we push ourselves on, or fade paralyzed out of the galaxy and out of our own lives.

Shatan's plans are unknown, but we believe we have guessed her intention. The Council of Ancients detects despair in the Baaneun's universe; Shatan will move fast, while that despair holds them inactive. She may carry with her several suns. It will rock the galaxy dimensionally; we must be braced, mentally and physically, for that. We are counting on her to trap the Baaneuns in their own universe, yet there is another desperate hope in the offing.

A proclamation, to all the involved space powers. A proclamation stating that we are from another universe, the Baaneun universe. That the Baaneuns are renegades, who invaded this galaxy without our knowledge, and that we followed them to force them home. That to prevent such a thing from occurring again, we have assembled all our energies and will close the interdimensional rift between the two universes. Our apologies, our hope for the Powers' future prosperity and health, etc. Shatan's action may convince the Powers that we have left, and that we were here only a short time.

Malon informs me that the tricorder readings obtained on Ran, Olian and Vonair will indicate to top-level Federation scientists that the Velonians are of this universe, but we can only hope it will remain a classified matter and that the general population will no longer believe we are present. Perhaps we can recruit some of the scientists in time, or perhaps some key Starfleet figures; Recruitment is checking the possibilities now. It seems the only hope we have, in any case. What think you? Give me your thoughts quickly, astan; we must do this soon if we do it at all.

I hesitate to place the load of High Captain on you at this bad time, but I ask you to accept the burden. It isn't a heavy one, just now; the ships act independently, directed by the Council, and your only ties will be to the three ships who have also lost members, so even what weight you feel should be gentle. The Shar da at Ukrali, the Durn a at Othirim, the Comscin at Rendren, the Orial at Orda Cantion III - all can handle the task. Our agents move - cautiously - on Terigren; you should meet with success. And later - astan, I would not place the burden on anyone except she be the only one who can bear it as well as it must be borne. I walk the same forced path.

We grope in desperate darkness. Perhaps we will find a way to life.

Shev, Thia.

(Tenir signature)

B37a

Thia, astunan-ano--

Do you remember when we were children and we ran the voreni as free spirits with no thought of what lay elsewhere? Our stride and the tomelas were enough. Now our thoughts lie bound in a hundred worlds, in a hundred hearts, and all those hearts seem torn in a hundred ways.

All things run in cycles, astunan. People die, and places die, and perhaps we now face the end of many things. Take what time you need, and keep your mind open. There is even more caring now among those of us who remain to face what comes.

Shev aer D den, o Falk---

Zir, astunan----

(B a signature)

My grief for Zhen runs deep, poisoning my sight. Perhaps these times will prove too cruel to be borne.

B37b

B a, astunan-br an,

Childhood - so far behind us - so sweet to remember.

Astunan, you bore this burden many years, tell me where to look for strength!

I have accepted that the job is mine, now, and for as long as I'm needed. But how does one do it? How do you stretch your love and care to hold all the ships, all the ethavavlorieni? How do you force yourself to use them most efficiently when it means sending them into danger? When every death is like losing a brother or a sister?

Shev,

(Thia signature)

I mourn for all the lost ones. It is too soon for me to say what part of the grief belongs to who. Some of them I hardly knew, others I will carry in my heart until I die.

B38

TO: LIGHTFLEET COMMAND COUNCIL

FROM: HIGH CAPTAIN THIA CHENEN

Astani:

We mourn and we carry out the task you have assigned to us. The population of Ukrali has been alerted to the coming danger. After their initial disbelief, they are beginning preparations to vacate the planet. A strongly worded directive from Terigren to the effect that we knew what we were talking about and to follow our suggestions had more to do with their compliance than the actual warning. There aren't enough ships on Ukrali to move all the people so several Starfleet ships are on their way to assist.

I believe it will be possible to convince most of the space powers that we are from another Universe, and that we are withdrawing, forever, from this one. In addition to the proclamation I suggest the further steps:

1. Transfer communications to Emergency frequencies, but broadcast on the normal frequencies messages designed to give the impression that a small - they know there are at least four ships involved - number of ships are rendezvousing in the sector we have ordered closed.

2. Allow glimpses of these ships, not full sightings, but detection that something is there, going in that direction, at this speed.

3. By the time Shatan moves, the vacant sector will have a large number of observers, Starfleet for certain, and probably Klingon, Gorn, and Romulan observers will be allowed in the area. Let them see a ship enter the area just as Shatan begins her withdrawal. It should be under computer control and of a type that matches none of the sightings of Lightfleet ships. Use a very old model from the museum, or do some drastic alterations to the exterior of a Security Ship.

4. If it becomes necessary for any visual messages, or (shudder) any face-to-face contact, either Obar or I should do it.

Zir alosta lon Shev,

(Thia signature)

Notice of Field Appointments:

Executive Officer LFC Shar da - Obar Rium

Medical Officer LFC Shar da - Aliashan

B39

Tenir,

I'm too heartsick to even protest. If only Zhen had not returned to duty. If only . . . I could write pages of "If onlys". I have cried until there are no more tears, but the ache, the hollow place where something once lived has not gone away. And it is not me, it is the whole ship. People go about their tasks as long as they can, then memories overwhelm them and they begin weeping. Someone offers what comfort can be offered, and completes their task.

I know the field appointments are worrying you, and I fear my explanations will explain without soothing any worries.

There is no hope that I will not have to spend months--no, years, as High Captain. I am most qualified, and no duties other than my own wishes compel me to be anywhere else. It will be years before I will be able to spend more than short vacations on Velona, or any other planet.

Obar and I refuse to be separated again. We did it before with the knowledge that we had many, many, years before us that eventually the time would come when we could take time for ourselves. The loss of eleven lanelized Velonians in the space of a few minutes dissuaded us of that idea. All the time we have is now, and we are going to spend it together, even if it has to be aboard ship.

No, Obar hasn't suddenly recovered his ability to remain in space for long periods of time, or rather it didn't return naturally. He could not endure life here without almost continuous contact with my mind, but that would be too uncertain, too confining to both of us, especially with him as Executive Officer. So with Taena's and Aliashan's help, I am impressing on his mind our acquired 'taste' for space. He thought of having it done. I would never have suggested it, even if I had thought of it. It will make changes in the way he thinks, minor ones, and since he will be aware of the imposed changes, he may be able to overcome even those when he wants to.

A1ishan is young for the position of Chief Medical Officer and short on experience, but that is the position he was headed for. He is a powerful telepath, he has the compassion, the control the job calls for. He knows the ship, the people. He lost Ulisa, his etanahl, and needs our support as we need his.

Shev aer lo,

(Thea signature)

B40

TO: DIVAL RAITHAN

FROM: THIA CHENEN

Dival,

If I let this come straight from my heart, it would be one great cry of grief. I awoke slowly in sickbay, gradually becoming aware, as the world drifted back, that all was not right. There was a bubble of calm around me, but I could sense some emotion beating against its fragile surface.

I opened my eyes and Obar's eyes were waiting for mine. He nodded to someone and the warmth of a hand touching my forehead withdrew. The bubble thinned and disappeared. I realized where I was and that Aliashan had been helping Obar with the shield, all in the instant before the crew's grief touched me. I cringed from it - body and mind - then my own shield was in place, and the outside grief was no longer overwhelming me.

Obar's face was wet with tears, his voice unsteady when he tried to speak, so he quit trying to talk and showed me the causes of the sorrow. D den's loss I'd half guessed, but now I felt his death: his acceptance of the risk as the guards entered and his refusal to abandon Kolfarin. I heard Falk's never-completed call for help; Ulisa's call that was answered, but too late to save her, and her last thought rising above the pain, of her etanahl and her alenan. Then swiftly he added the other names and what he knew of their deaths. I barely knew Vonair, but his memory will always be tied to D den. Raveir - Obar paused at his fate that could so easily have been mine but for Malon's warning. Then Sharnaan Rivili, Tevelanin and Dilaia who had served on the Shar da, and Relia.

Obar was silent so long I tried to convince myself there were no other deaths to list. Then softly he added, "The Durn a's losses were heavy, velantar. Tianea is dead, and Zhen."

I did not scream. The tears that had been flowing silently down my face stopped, and I pulled away from Obar. I remember sliding off the bed and standing there saying, "No. That can't be so." My next memory is huddling in Obar's arms in our quarters crying in great gasps. Part of it was honest grief; part of it was sheer rage (before Shatan I would not have realized this) at fate. Obar and I had almost made it back to L a Melion.

When I was calm enough to think of others, Obar gave me the Council's message. The Shar da was well on the way to Ukrali. Taena had altered our course as soon as the orders arrived.

Obar and I slipped into the nearest dancing green to join briefly in the Chena Cathan in progress. It had started even before the Shar da was out of the Shabas system and is still going on. Beings drop out as they must and others take their place. It is a strange and moving sight, for less than half the dancers are Velonians. The Vulcans, Terrans, Klingons and others move uncertainly with the flowing patterns, hearing the music only dimly, but feeling the grief as fully, and needing the solace the participation brings.

Taena had been in command since before the action on Shabas. She had stayed in control through all the losses, started us to Ukrali, kept the ship operational. When Obar and I stepped into the control center she started toward us, then sagged to the floor as though her bones had melted. Slaton gathered her up as though she were a child and took her to sickbay to rest.

I pity them all, Dival. I have Obar beside me, and so many of them are alone to face the grief. Obar and I talked for hours before reaching a decision. We are not going to be separated again. What I have been for 115 years traps me on this ship in the post of High Captain, - so Obar is staying with me as Executive Officer.

Obar found the solution to his inability to readjust to shipboard life and explained it to me calmly with that little half-smile that means he thinks it's funny, but realizes no one else is going to. His suggestion - n a compaltena. He had thought it out as he sat in sickbay waiting for me to wake up. Nothing Taena, Aliashan, or I could say would shake his resolve, so with their help I impressed on his mind our acquired tolerance for space. It was his choice, his suggestion, but done for my benefit; I could not carry this burden without him.

Do not be angry, do not disapprove, it may not have been wise, but it was done out of necessity.

Shev aer lo,

(Thia signature)

B41

TO: THIA CHENEN, OBAR RIUM, T'ARES MALON

FROM: DIVAL RAITHAN

Astani,

The days have made little difference to our grief; it is still raw and tearing. You who were there, we who were not - we share the same feelings. So many friends lost, so terribly . . . We bear the grief because we must, but we doubt our goals, our purpose, and so are left to wonder whether their deaths had any meaning - our friends whose lives meant so much.

As for the Occelon, we remain in orbit around Dolentan. Despite Shatan's order for the sector clearance, neither she nor the Council have ordered us away. Another cruiser is scheduled soon, but I do not think there will be time; still, the order has not yet been cancelled. We will take advantage of what we can; tonight our dance is to be on the planet. The wind and grass and trees will aid our feet and our hearts. The grief is still so hard to bear; it is heavy and has so many faces. Last night Dian brought one of those faces into sharp focus.

The three of us - he, Fonder, and I - were sitting by the dancing green when I heard a chord apart from the music of the dance; I say a chord, for that is how it sounded, even though it came from one throat - Dian's. I have never heard him sing like that before; as he went on, the song wove itself into the music of the dance; the non-Velonians stopped to listen. He looked as if he wanted to stop but couldn't - the song had risen and must be sung.

"In the dark green wood

When the sun was high,

I saw a lady riding by;

She had flashing eyes

And golden hair.

She rode upon a dappled mare.

In the dark green wood

When the last birds call

There came a soldier straight and tall.

He found his true love

Waiting there,

And he kissed her eyes and her golden hair.

In the dark green wood

By the evening star,

I saw a soldier ride to war.

He never would

Return again,

For in some battle he was slain.

In the dark green wood,

The people said,

She heard the news her love was dead;

But still she waited

For him there,

With flowers in her golden hair.

In the dark green wood

By the pale moonlight,

A ghost goes riding every night;

She has golden hair,

The people say,

And talks to shadows on her way." *

A simple song, and a mythology from half the galaxy away, but it pierced our hearts, for none of us but saw Nalia waiting in the forests where Zhen will come never again. The tears were running hot through my fingers, and I know they were pouring down Fonder's cheeks as well, as he sat staring beyond sight. So it was with most of those there, that a grief still too new acquired an even sharper edge. Dian finished, choking on his own unshed tears, and plunged from the room. The dance re-formed, re-patterned, and went on, but I could not join it. I returned to my quarters to weep, and question, and rage at the fate that has made us what we are, that has trapped us in a web of our own choices.

Shev, I grow weary of this subterfuge, these lies and manipulations! They grow more and more complicated, crushing us under the burden of carrying the lies to make a pathway to the truth. It is a contradiction in nature. Why can we not take what Shatan has shown us and dance new, truer patterns into all our lives? I long for the paths, the streams, the winds and trees of home - to dance their strength, Shatan's truths, and our grief into my life and being, to listen in the green silences to the song of my own soul and to follow the song . . . The longing is so deep, so strong, it is pain. The pain and grief . . . it is hard, so hard.

Yet you give me strength, astani - especially Obar. It took a very great love and very great courage to do what you have done, for it was no small sacrifice, even to gain a great happiness. No, I am not angry, nor can I disapprove. I must regret it but I understand the necessity. "What I have been for 115 years traps me . . ." Yes, Thia, what we have been traps us indeed, but you have faced Shatan, you know the truth of yourself; let that truth guide you, even though it must be as High Captain. Ukrali is beyond Shatan's immediate sphere; Obar will not face her before she goes, though that might be best. You must use what Shatan has shown you to help Obar through the difficult times. With that truth, and with your love, I think both your burdens will be more easily borne. Whether or not it was wise, your decision could have been no other.

The ending will be soon now. Perhaps then there will be time for the music and the silence we need to re-form the patterns of our lives. Perhaps we may have a small peace before we take up the burden again.

"...but what am I?

An infant crying in the night,

An infant crying for the light,

And with no language but a cry." **

Dal iverni vel na,

(Dival signature)

_______________

* "In the Dark Green Wood" by Tommy Makem (recorded on Columbia CS9711 In the Dark Green Wood). Used by permission of Tommy Makem and Tin Whistle Music.

** Alfred, Lord Tennyson. In Memoriam LIV

B42

TO: T'ARES MALON cc. Command Council

LFC COMSCIN Thia Chenen

FROM: STAAV MOREL

LFC OCCELON

Dival is gone.

No, not dead. That we might have faced. He has been taken by the Baaneuns we are sure, even though we know nothing of how or why. We seek and find nothing, and our fears grow and grow.

Dival was alone planetside, as he had been often since the news came; he has needed the forests more since he faced Shatan, and since the recent deaths. I was on the bridge when I realized Dival had not contacted me in almost six hours. I signalled him on his personal subcom frequency and got no response.

I tried again on his official frequency, then walked over and quietly told Ragra to begin an emergency override call for Dival, which he did. His ears flattened and he began a subcom scan, then started calling landing personnel. I already knew what the answer would be. He was calling Al zha in the lab to order a telepathic search even as I told Teron to start a scan. The other bridge officers had noted the communication and scanner activity but had not asked any questions. I heard a gasp from the Velonians and knew that Al zha had called every telepath on the ship into the search. Dian burst onto the bridge, sword still in hand (he'd been fencing in the gym), demanding to know what was happening. I waved him to silence and said, "Ragra, Teron, Al zha, report." My soul turned to ice as the negative replies came. "Dival is missing; there has been no contact for almost six hours. Dian went white and he said what we were all thinking: "Oh, my God, they've taken him!"

I ordered retroactive scanner checks for any possible energy or ship traces, or spatial/physical anomalies. As the checks were made and Ragra requested similar information from the other ships in the area, I spoke with Fonder but we had nothing to go on, even after the reports were in. We've spoken with Shatan - or rather to Shatan - and gotten no help; she won't tell us anything, won't answer any of our questions. Doesn't she realize that this may go beyond Dival's safety, that what they plan to do with him could have implications for all of Lightfleet, the entire Baaneun situation, even this whole galaxy? She must realize it, but she just sits there saying nothing, and continues to gather power. One possibility that terrifies us all is that if she is planning a dimensional slip to seal off the Baaneuns, she may do it before we can get Dival back and trap him there forever. She won't say if she is planning such a slip, won't say how the Baaneuns took Dival (if even she knows), won't give us any opinions on why, won't tell us if there is a way to get him back - damn, what good is a Shevian computer if it won't even say, much less do, something! For our part, there seems little we can do except wait. No one here could possibly go after him.

Everything comes back to how and why, all our questions that torture us with their lack of answers and the fear they bring. How did the Baaneuns do it? How did they dare come so close to Shatan, whom they have reason to fear? How did they get here, and how did they take him? There was no ship, at least none we could detect. How did they manage to overwhelm a telepath of Dival's capabilities, a lanelized Velonian who must have been, at least in the last instant, aware of them? How, and most of all, why? Why? That is where the terror lies. Anything they intend seems likely to mean Dival's death, at least of the man we know. If anything can be done to help him, it must be done soon, for the Baaneuns undoubtly know of the time differential between universes and will work quickly, according to whatever unknown methods they possess. Are their methods less or more than what we know? Can he stand against them?

I am shaking as I record this. We have been ordered back, the catastrophe is imminent, and I must seek for help or hope before all chance is lost. What can you tell me? What can we do? Please, if you can, help me; help him. Eno crivala. Time is interminable and yet slips away from us.

Oh, Malon, if only you could be here, velantar-ano!

(Malon signature)

B43

((Omitted - non-essential))

B44

Subcom Log: Dival Raithan

I must keep a record of what is happening. It will take energy and concentration I can ill spare, but it is a focus for my mind, something I control and not they, a hold on reality. What reality is there here? A strange, blank cell, my bonds, the enemy I battle - no more.

Remember. That is the beginning. Perhaps if I return, this log may be useful, no matter what my own condition. The battle is unceasing; already it is a strain, but I must withstand it. Until Shatan moves, more than my self may depend on what I do. So far their planning has failed; they could not destroy Shatan, nor will they delay her action by holding me. Perhaps I must be the Queen's pawn, the sacrifice necessary to win the game; if so, so be it. But the game is not yet ended . . .

Remember. I remember there was no warning. One moment the peaceful forest, and the next - a sudden massive onslaught. My resistance was swept aside - there was barely time to cry out - and I was sucked away and into - nothingness. I don't know how it was done - the sensation was indescribable, horrible. And then while mind and body were still reacting to that, to be plunged into inconceivable emptiness! I remembered what Thia said of Chan's experience - tried to focus in instead of out, but I weakened under a sheer sense of unbeing. There was a -moment?- of dizzy blankness and I found myself in a round chamber lit with blue lights; it is like the one Thia described but I cannot hear or feel any engines. I still do not know if I am on a ship or a planet.

I was alone - no Baaneuns either physically or mentally discernable, although I was sure they were observing. For some moments I rested and tried to remember everything that Thia and Malon had said about them, when I became aware that, as with Thia and Obar, the Baaneuns were introducing a gas into the room. I tried to self-transport and staggered back with a cry of dismay - there was a lanel force field around the room! A blast of triumph and malice from the waiting Baaneuns drove me to my knees and then -

I returned to consciousness still on the floor of my cell and still alone, but with my legs bound from hips to toes and my wrists strapped to the bonds so that I could not even attempt to loosen them. After a few increasingly frantic attempts to get free, I went into a blind, instinctual panic, thrashing and struggling against the web that only tightened as I fought against it. As I sank back exhausted and defeated, the Baaneuns were suddenly there again, laughing and gloating over me. It was vile, like a slime touching the mind.

Then they began, with their lies and suggestions and insidious pressures. They are clever and skillful, especially at twisting one's own thoughts to their meaning. Some of their insinuations and subtle traps I have escaped only because I have faced Shatan; otherwise I might have succumbed to doubt, if not to their fabricated beliefs, about my actions and motivations. But I have already faced and accepted the truth, and that is a defense new and unexpected to them. But they are not to be discounted or despised, as we well know after our losses; I understand better now how they have come to rule most of their universe.

Still they keep on - relentless, remorseless, powerful. I have fought back when I could, merely withstood them at other times. There are many of them, so many, united in purpose behind which I sense desperation, but I do not understand the purpose, nor the part they mean me to play. But I choose to fight, even without hope, rather than to play at their price. What is it they want? There is nothing I can do, or be, against Shatan. I . . . no! They laugh; the gas is seeping in again, What - purpose? Can . . . Cannot . . .

. . . Drifting . . . I must - come back . . . Concentrate . . . My cell. No respite this time. They do not wait for me to realize - what? There was a reason; they do not act purposelessly. Why so secretive? Habit? Secrecy seems futile now, there is no time . . . No time. Is there time here? Or is it that another of the things they have taken from me with my freedom - those I love, my home, my world . . . This universe is so alien, cold and distant, and the distance soon to be unbridgeable. - No! They encourage this despair; try to turn my own thoughts and feelings against me! I will not listen!

They -- Shev ano cori, I know what they have done! My - my senses begin to fade - a drug - they take my body from me, as they have taken all else except my mind and will . . . Yet there is no severance - seemingly they do not intend Raveir's fate for me. What - what is it they want . . . need?

There is nothing. I cannot see the room, feel my bonds. If I try, I can become aware of my body, as I am aware of it in self-transporting, but I dare not expend the effort. It takes all I can spare to keep this log. Yet it is hard to keep from trying. The unnaturalness presses on my mind and soul - it drains me as surely as does the battle. We are at bottom such physical creatures after all - they chose their attack well. I must turn from this! Again they try to force my own mind to betray me, weaken me. I am what I am, not what they would have me be. They leave me nothing but the unending struggle to remain myself - all my strength, then to that defiance!

They . . . try a new way to despair - show me how they have conquered so many worlds - pride as well as vengefulness in the recounting . . . Horrible . . . They are amused by my sickness, as they are angered by my denial. But they only give strength to that denial, not to the despair they hope for. Our universe? They . . . Ada! Car enta r i! So long ago - how were we not warned sooner? Oh astan, ano availa lon lo - lo limt rantenerala surtena cathan cas! Ehr, ler lo miriafa?* N ran, how can I tell you? Icras . . . the first move in the war of which we know the ending - almost. Almost . . . time and no time . . . still the danger . . .

They grow more desperate. They will not wait . . . the attack strengthens, intensifies . . . more they would destroy . . . Even my memories come under attack.

If they destroy my past, can I know what I am, can I hold against them? Must maintain . . . myself . . . myself alone.

Valovi . . . I have so little strength left . . . Shatan, it must be soon. I endure, that is all - I must endure. I must bar the way until it is closed forever . . . That - that is what they had planned for me - to use me to somehow - bypass Shatan's power! But that I should be an opener of ways, a gate for them into our world! No!! Though I die, my world - my universe - must not! I will not submit - Ratha strengthen me! Soon, Shatan!

A - change . . . What - ? Some withdraw - the others press harder . . . They keep the knowledge from me but . . . a battle, beyond mine! Shatan? . . . Ran! Roia? Oh astani, ailorena-ano! Icarti ava, saer asmel . . . Dava! Elo vili ano fola. Malon--ada! Ethachenti . . . Les, elo vili cha . . . talaem cheve . . . Fola-ano! Elo vili imai cha oa! Baaneuni cadelala . . . crirash . . . dicelbran . . . les . . . ADA! **

Dival

_______________

* Oh friend, I weep for you - you who will experience again the bitter grief! Yet, this might heal you.

** Oh friends, free me! So lonely, I am weak . . . Stop! You must leave me. Malon--no! Things of danger . . . Please, you must not . . . no time . . . Leave me! You must not die also! The Baaneuns will destroy . . . violent . . . agony . . . Please . . . NO!

B45

TO: THIA CHENEN, OBAR REEUM, STAAV MOREL

FROM: HIL MIEN - LT. COMMANDER, LFC COMSCIN

Astani:

You felt the Charisma's going, and so did I. In the wreck of the despair over Dival, the dismay at the vanishing of the Charisma just as Shatan went, and the shock and damage to the ship and crew as the rift was closed, there was no time to scan and seemingly no reason to. But we're getting a transmission now. I can't get the ship under way, but I'm trying my damndest. I'm relaying what we're getting to all of you; if either of your ships can get back to the rift center, they may have a chance. For Shev's sake, hurry if you can! I can't get this damned hulk out of sublight!

AUTOMATIC EMERGENCY TRANSMISSION - CODE II CHANNEL T'ARES MALON GENERAL BROADCAST

I can't move, astani. I am under something, something hard, I can't move it, across my body - I can't see, there is no light. Ah, Shev! There is pain - I don't care. There is no pain there is no- Astani! I am crying - again - I am afraid. Fear is the mind-killer- It must be over. Surely it is over. I'm not going to try to move anymore. Computer? My ship does not hear me. I must wait. I must wait; surely someone will come, surely someone is here . . .

It is later. It is still dark, I have not moved, But the others have become conscious; I have touched their minds. It is too dangerous for anyone to move here, without light. The interior of the ship is torn apart. Panel interiors are broken up and glow all around us without illuminating anything. We have tried to reassure each other. Everyone huddles quietly. All are hurt, but they tell me they are not hurt badly. They can't reach me. It's all right. Ran is singing something - some song of wind and seasons. We lie and listen to his tight, unsteady voice and stare into blackness seeing the grass and flowers of his verse.

I must keep recording. I must keep my mind outward. Remembering the times before this. Remembering grief - Oh Shev, this pain is hardly worse than that grief. Zhen . . . Zhen, astan velena, so much of you I remember, your hands on my shoulders, your worry, your sudden laughs when the load would for a moment, leave your shoulders and you would run free with irdan as mischievous as a child. Zhen, astan, who can say whether or not you died well? Your arms pinned back by guards as their ignorant rage and blows fell on you while your mind still tried desperately to revive the dying Romulan ambassador. You cried out for just a little more time, a few more seconds of life as the Baaneun controlled guard set the phaser to kill. Relava wept when he told of the anguish in your eyes as he bounded through the door, the despair that a half-second later was lost in the mist that took your body. Ah, astan, shev aer lo, you who died in the agony of failure, yet doing what you must. It is no consolation, the reason for your death. There is just an empty place where pain twists, and grief becomes at best a dull ache.

I was in my chair in the Comscin Control Center, still in shock, after many hours, the news of D den and Zhen and Sharnaan rolling over me and all of us with a force I could hardly yet feel. Morel's message came and I read it through dazed, tear-blurred eyes. It sank in only slowly. I read it twice before I suddenly cried out a strange, animal cry that shocked my own ears and startled the Velonians almost to lecreva. The grief and despair over Dival flew over the ship with the swiftness of thought, and just at that point several tones sounded. I made it to the scanners, and saw what I had been fearing: Dolentan's sun going nova. Shatan was at last moving her immense power.

There was no time for debate, discussion, argument. I was running aft, Ran and Roia first following and protesting, then following in determined silence and jumping in after me when I reached my Charisma.

It was several agonized minutes at maximum warp before we reached Dolentan. I had ordered the Comscin to retreat with the other cruisers, then closed my communications to the startled calls coming into my panel. Forgive me, astani, if you are there to listen, or to care; I could not turn back. I knew what must be done, what must be tried. As did you.

I try to remember clearly. It is a blur. Here, the darkness echoes only pain, it is hard to remember back. I remember inner space. The Baaneun universe met us with a crashing bombardment; hatred, vengeance, domination. We were plunged into a mental battle; I don't know how I functioned. Perhaps my ship did half the work. Sometimes I lost breath, sometimes heart, sometimes sight. I felt Ran's mind questing out beyond his own battle, searching, searching, Roia joining him. It was all horrible confusion; I was trying to protect them as well as myself.

I don't know how we found Dival. I do know my computer beamed him over. The Baaneuns attacked him like a swarm of bees, a raging mass of energy - Ran and Roia turned to the attack with a rage of their own, a flare of wrath and force that I have felt only once before, from Dor . The very air shuddered; I cringed, shrank away, pressed down over my controls, turned the ship around-

I can't describe it. I can hardly understand what it was I saw. Like a funnel from nowhere, a stretching, a pouring so vast it stunned my mind, I was facing the coming of Shatan. A great golden glow was all about us, and I stared through it at the rift between dimensions, the rift through which a sun in nova was coming, other suns coming behind it. I saw the fabric of space pulling through. I knew in an instant that the rift was the only way back; inner space was already closed off. I forced the ship forward. It was like trying to run in a dream; in all my desperation, we moved at a crawl, pushing against the flow of space itself. I heard a voice crying out, "Ada, cheve Baaneuni vill ipolna aer eno! Es entala imaili-eno!" * I felt the power swell, I heard Dival scream. I left the controls, I staggered back to him, fell down beside the others and clutched his arm, poured my mind out against the Baaneuns who were clinging to him as their last chance. Ran's and Roia's minds were like thunder around me.

Dival was a puppet yanked by cruel strings; he had no strength left at the end. When we drove the Baaneuns from him, it had become their sole intention to kill him. Until we gained the mastery, the control of his body changed several times from the Baaneuns to us - like sharks tearing and shaking a dead carcass, and I was one of the sharks, grabbing, seizing, grappling for supremacy. They wanted to cause him death with great pain - he would scream, and thrash uselessly until we again drove them off. My strength was sapped by my horror and fear. Dival's mind torn through a dozen times, his body wracked like dead meat. Oh Shev! I wish I could forget it! Once I even thought I heard him speak--a small voice, small and pathetic like a child-- "les . . . les . . ." It is hard for me to remember--details are blurred--Ran and Roia were more in his mind than was I, cherishing and steadying his body until it was safe to withdraw.

And then, suddenly, Dival was free, and for a moment we lay gasping as the last echoes of the Baaneuns were drawn away in the tide of space. And then - It was as though the ship were tumbled by a great wave. The edges of the universe came crashing together, a colossal shock with us barely away from its center.

I hear Roia crying softly, from pain, perhaps, perhaps even from joy. Ran's voice sings on, quiet and steadier now, singing of trees, of the color of a leaf, of many leaves shimmering in a cool morning. My breath is harsh; I am having trouble getting any. Where are we? Morel, etanahl, beloved, help me. I am cold. I touch Dival's mind distantly; he lives - to what end? I wish I could sleep. The pain is ebbing but my mind is going too. I feel Roia's mind move into mine; she gives strength, surely she can't have much to spare. Where are you, astani? Have you left in all the ships, not knowing we are here? Ran is coming, too; exhausted, they still are giving life to me. I am cradled in their strength, their reassurance. Yes, the Baaneuns are gone. Gone forever. Thank Shev, thank Shatan. An odd distance seems to be opening up before me - Why not, Ran? Perhaps this truly is peace, now. Perhaps everything will be all right . . .

(end transmission)

Astani, I have a transporter fix - damn this unsettled space; getting these readings has been hellish! The Charisma is a wreck; we'll destroy it once they are off. Morel - we're beaming Dival directly to you. You have better tele-medical facilities than we. We're taking the rest aboard now. Hold your position, Morel. Thia, orders? I'll get you a medical report as soon as I can.

(Hil Mien signature)

____________

* "No, no Baaneuns must return with us! They will be our deaths!"

B46

Thia--

I can tell you only what you already know, astunan. I bore the strain and fear - the burden of my love for the ethavavlorieni - because of their love and care returning to me. Not everywhere is it safe to love, but here in the Fleet, especially now after all the losses and grief, no one is alone. You are cared for; that is your strength, and your peace. You know, as do I, that you can bear the burden, and that there are two sides to the love, that there is not just worry and pain, but also many unexpected joys, in the turnings of future worlds, in the fields of new stars, in the eyes of friends.

We have sent Tenir home; he must run free for a time before he is again able to see with clear eyes. He will be well. For now, I am High Councillor, so you and I both face new burdens.

Velan,

(B a signature)

B47

TO: T'ARES MALON

FROM: THIA CHENEN

Malon:

Morel's announcement of Dival's disappearance brought a stunned silence to the Shar da. There was no outcry, no one had the strength for it. Finally Slaton, our Vulcan tower of strength, who had stood all the rest without losing his control, doubled up his fist and punched a hole in the communications console. Then he turned to me with blood dripping from his hand and said, "It was over. The danger was past." He walked out of the control center, tears streaming from his eyes.

His action at least shocked the rest of us back into motion, and we saw the Charisma disappear. I wouldn't have ordered you back even if you'd been listening. I thought you were going to your death, and I would gladly have gone with you, for what you were doing was right.

Did you really think we'd clear the area without you? The Charisma would have found a ship waiting if she hadn't returned for a year, and a ship within scanner range for years - until the physics department convinced me there was no possibility of your returning.

You should be well on your way to Indel when you read this, and from Indel I hope you will agree to go to Velona, to L a Melion, and let your spirit healing take place among our trees. Morel and Reladan should be able to accompany you this time.

Among all the other griefs, I've found one I didn't expect. I am mourning Shatan hund R in. From the very first meeting she seemed like a person to me. She was elusive and cranky to deal with, but we were not really her job. She would have done exactly the same job if there had been no Lightfleet here to find her and bedevil her last days.

I'm still waiting for a report on Dival's condition.

Shev aer lo,

(Thia Signature)

B48

TO: DURN A, OCCELON, ORIAL, COMSCIN

FROM: HIGH CAPTAIN THIA CHENEN

Astani:

Seranta valanin feni arava shalna mis in astani eno abind na rhadoni alare. *

The conflict is over; Shatan has saved us. We are at last free to seek the shevendrai and allow our grief to become a part of our past.

Hil Mien, Morel, take your ships straight to Indel. With the Comscin damaged, I think you need an escort, so T'Roulan and the Durn a will accompany you. The space powers seem to have accepted our feigned withdrawal as the real thing; it is vital that they do not detect our continued presence.

The Orial and the Shar da will continue to patrol here for a time - until the observation ships begin to disperse - then we will follow you home. Except for well-established field agents and a small number of Security Ships, Lightfleet forces are being withdrawn from the sectors controlled by the space powers.

Morel - please, a medical report as soon as possible.

Shev aer lo,

(Thia signature)

___________________

* Give thanks the stars still shine on the friends we thought lost forever.

B49

TO: THIA CHENEN, OBAR RIUM, LFC SHAR DA

HIL MIEN, JEFFREY DONALD, LFC COMSCIN

FROM: STAAV MOREL, LFC OCCELON

Astani:

I have received no report - how is Malon? I know her condition is critical - her message and Jeff's lack of time to tell me say as much. Please, I must know.

Dival is alive, as Malon told us, and physically only slightly injured - that seemingly in the destruction of the Charisma. He is very weak and in High Haven, much of the time unconscious. Al zha will not examine him further until his condition strengthens. I feel a nagging dread, but have no facts as yet, only hesitations and silences. Perhaps it will be best if I simply tell what has happened - something to help fill the time of waiting.

You heard my cry as the Charisma disappeared - it was a scream of pure heart-struck terror and pleading, answered only by silence and emptiness. I sagged back into the command chair, cold and shaking to the marrow of my bones, my eyes frozen to the - to me - empty viewscreen. I think I hardly moved all the time they were gone, feeling my soul drain away through that riven space, leaving me empty and alone - how often I felt on the verge of breaking and taking the Occelon through - it was an unending struggle. But some small corner of my mind, which I was hardly aware of, gave orders, kept us barely at the safety limit. The crew worked silently around me. I stared at the screen as if the intensity of my wanting it would bring them back, but I had no real hope and I felt my heart dying within me as time passed and there was still only silence and emptiness. Then, beyond all hope and chance, what I hardly dared believe until Hil Mien's message confirmed it. I broke down, abandoning myself to tears of relief and joy and - now that there was hope - fear, as freely as any Velonian. That small corner, which had kept control of the ship, set it dashing toward the Charisma until the Comscin's order stopped us. Malon's voice, which I had thought never to hear again, both warmed and chilled me - I was in agony as time passed and we couldn't help! But at last the Comscin and we were both close enough.

I ordered all medical stations on emergency alert and restricted presence in the transporter room to myself, Dian, Fonder, Mespa, Al zha, and Stefan Lodri.  We six made it there in record time, Mespa beating the rest of us to handle a coordinated beaming to cut down the dangers of the spatial instability. No one spoke, but in the seconds that we waited, the old fears rose in all of us, joining with the new ones.

Mespa's hiss of concentration sharpened with satisfaction, then changed to that "Khaaah!" which is an Encaran's battle cry of fear or anger. It blended with Dian's own cry of alarm and rage as he sprang toward Dival, kneeling to slash at the bonds that imprisoned him from the hips down. For a Velonian to be so confined - ! But Dival was not conscious either of the bonds or of Dian's action; on his materialization we were all momentarily frozen at the sight of his limp, unconscious body - fearing for an instant, despite Malon's reassurance, that he was dead. Dian's movement brought us all into action, scarcely a jump behind him, while Fonder, Al zha, and I sent our minds out in the same instant. Dival cried out once, jerked convulsively, and lay still again. Dian spun on his knee and shouted, "Stop it! Get out!" Before I could recover enough to say anything, Fonder (who looked almost as much in shock as when Dival was taken) grasped my arm and murmured, "He means we must not use mental contact. However he knows it, he is right." I felt a rush of fear. Stefan looked across at me and said, "Physically, his injuries are minor, probably sustained in the wreck of the Charisma, but his lanel power level is dangerously low." He handed me the analyzer; it read 6, a level I had never seen before. I felt queasy thinking of what his captivity must have been like to drain him so completely. But we had gotten him back in time; the lanel energizer was already in operation. I rose to question Fonder and Al zha about the mental contact, when Stefan said sharply, "Morel! There's some sort of neural blockage here!"

As I spun back toward him, Al zha caught my arm. "Morel, take care. You must be Vulcan. Do you understand? You must not touch him unless you control all mental and emotional contact." I looked at her and at Dival, and said, "Explain." She shook her head but there was a haunted look behind her eyes. "I will make no diagnosis until he is conscious and strong enough to endure it; now he is very weak and in High Haven. But you saw his reaction to the earlier telepathic contact; we dare not risk it. They" - indicating Stefan and Dian - "are non-telepaths; there is no danger. Vulcan control techniques will allow you to work with him; Fonder and I cannot, at least not now. All I can say is that there has been some damage, but its nature and extent I do not know."

"Morel!" Stefan's voice was urgent. I knelt beside Dival, running my own examination to compare with Stefan's. There was no doubt; a sensory neural block, drug-induced. I called Kestaven and told him what to expect and that I would be working with him. We took the necessary samples and Mespa sprinted for the lab section, pleased to be useful again.

Al zha insisted that sickbay for Dival be the telepathic research lab, which could be most effectively shielded. I suddenly realized that she and Fonder had been shielding Dival since that first contact had warned them. After alerting Telepathic Research, I went on ship-wide intercom, told the crew what few facts we had, and warned against any telepathic or empathic activity while we moved Dival to the shielded area. I never even thought, I simply picked him up and carried him as I would have carried a sleepy Reladan, but his limp stillness was like a chill on the heart. The others followed and took charge in Telepathic Research while I went to the labs.

We must have set some kind of record for analysis and antidote synthesis. We were incredibly lucky that the drug seems not to have been truly of the Baaneun universe. They have been here long enough to learn to use our resources, and there would have been less chance of an incompatibility reaction. Suffice it to say that the Baaneuns seem to be as crude in their medical as in their ship technology - crude perhaps, but very effective. The drug blocks sensory reception by the brain without destroying the neural paths or paralyzing response; in most victims it would cause a subjective paralysis as there would be no apparent stimuli to respond to. Other effects are unknown; there hasn't been time for full tests yet.

Dival is physiologically normal now, except for his weakness. We wait now for him to recover enough strength for Al zha to examine him. She seems confident that there is no basic change - that he is no danger to us, but that there is some injury we cannot doubt, so the danger is all for him. Our joy is mixed with this fear.

We are on course for Indel, and keep pace with the Comscin. Give everyone the news of Dival as soon as you can. Jeff, let me know about Malon and when I may see her, and please, when she is well enough, let her come to me here. Give her my love.

Shev, o dal aer eno,

(Morel signature)

B50

TO: THIA CHENEN AND STAAV MOREL

FROM: RAN CARTHUR - LFC COMSCIN SICKBAY

It is very quiet here. The lights are low, the doctors and friends have left us in peace. I am almost well and will return to the pressures and pleasure of ordinary life tomorrow morning, but for now I want to lie here, alone, and rest, and speak to you.

I remember so much, yet all are the small things, a glance, a song echoing in darkness, none of the vastness and actions, which in a later time I may accept as worthy of telling. I think of the message about Dival coming through - Shev, I almost went through the wall when Malon let out that shorva-ish cry - I remember the impact of my feet on the corridor floor as I followed Malon to the Charisma, pounding out words in my brain, "to our deaths to our deaths to our deaths-" And then universes crashing together, and so much rage and frenzy - and then - Ah, I cannot say. My mind turns away from that mel e of vast powers and hatred and awe and exhaustion, hovers instead on the sudden, still, helpless wreck of the Charisma.

Ah, astani, in dura hund imail. There was such lonely darkness there. I sat staring blindly out into the darkness laced with metal and glowing circuits, and all I could hear, all any of us could hear, was the sound of coolant hissing softly from a ruptured casing, and, under it, Malon's labored breathing. Astani, even to face the memory of that time is pain. To sit trapped, listening to her die. She too knew there was nothing to be done. She too felt the strange, unreal peace that gripped us all, the peace of all things being done and passed, of waiting for death without regret. There was no point in talk; we had been through too much. Yet it was she who called us back to life, she who made us care, made us reach out through our exhaustion to work for her life.

Astani, I don't know what happened there, in that frenzied darkness on the Charisma as the Baaneuns swarmed around Dival. It was as though my very soul came out in wrath, rising in a power that had nothing to do with lanel energy, or even with any telepathy I can claim to have mastered. There was no room for fright, or awe, or doubt. There was only myself, swelling in a shuddering storm - I felt I could do anything: send a sun to nova, twist the very fabric of space, grasp and hold any vastness. But there was no deliberation of possibilities; there was only war and rage. The Baaneuns were swept back like hil zani by a storm-wind. I wonder, and I fear, yet it is the fear of a small child who doesn't understand, who stands trembling in ignorance, knowing too little even to know what he has lost, or gained.

The doctors tell me that Malon is strained and tired to the point of mandatory medical leave, even aside from her injuries (damage to and hemmorrhage of internal organs, a couple of broken ribs). It is so easy for us all to forget how little she allows herself peace and ease. She hasn't had a rest since before she went out for Obar - if you can even count that strained period of self-doubt "rest". I think back - Korenkar, the captaincy trials, the torsponder - it goes on back for years. What does she seek that she ranges so far and pushes so hard? What could she, find that would free her?

Ah, astani, my love for these people is my own freedom. In the midst of care and concern I feel an odd joy, irdan welling suddenly and fleetingly, and sometimes even while I lie wondering at it I see it glimmer in Malon's eyes, then see Roia looking toward me, her smile rich and warm for one delicate, wondering moment before we sink again into long rest . . . I treasure the coming time of freedom, of docked ships and friends to run and laugh without time or care on the borders of their minds.

My thoughts stay with Dival - my heart tells me, against all fears, that there is hope. Shev-

(Ran signature)

B51

TO: THIA AND OBAR, LFC SHAR DA

MALON, RAN, ROIA, LFC COMSCIN

FROM: MOREL, LFC OCCELON

Velantar, Astani:

We know the worst, and once again grief holds the ship. Al zha's examination has revealed that Dival is severely injured telepathically - disability level; she and Stefan have officially given me command. I want to deny the fact, as I want to deny the reason, but it is impossible; Dival cannot command in his condition.

Dival's stay in sickbay has varied between long periods of unconsciousness, short periods of High Haven, and very brief intervals of clear awareness in which he tries haltingly to speak to us. The balance is turning; he is rarely unconscious now, and makes more attempts at communication, but these seem to tap memories and sensations he cannot face. The frequency with which he retreats into High Haven now is frightening; we must not allow him to become locked behind the barriers of his own mind. The mind itself is sound and still his own - that the Baaneuns did not destroy - but Dival is not the man who was taken from us. He cannot alerasa, astani! He cannot bear any telepathic or empathic contact. He is hurt and frightened, and he retreats even from us, whom he knows and loves. That he, of all people, should be so and that all our love and care and knowledge should seem so useless in the face of his pain and loneliness - ! We hope desperately and yet we fear so greatly - oh astani, availa aer eno lon corr rhadoni.

I sense the stillness of fear throughout the ship - the fear that we may lose Dival as truly as if he had not returned; but we do not despair - not yet. We wait to see what happens, though our waiting must not be long. Al zha paces the corridors like a spirit-driven one; she knows Dival's condition most clearly and her knowledge must give a dreadful intensity to her fear.

Her knowledge . . . ah, Shev, that examination! It was torment to all of us, how did she bear it? I think again that only hope, or the possibility of hope, sustained her. When Dival's periods of unconsciousness had abated, we chose one of his coherent intervals to ask permission for Al zha's telepathic contact. I thought I saw a flicker of agreement in his eyes, which was almost instantly snuffed out as a wave of fear and denial sent him back into High Haven. There was nothing to do but wait. When he came out of it, Al zha asked him if he could maintain normal consciousness for the short time necessary for her to examine his mind. To agree must have taken more courage than he has ever needed or than we can conceive, but he held on and forced his terror under control - for terror it must have been; you have heard his log, astani! Al zha approached his bed and would have held his hand to give some small comfort, but at the first touch of her mind he screamed and went into near convulsions, thrashing, twisting, kicking. Dian and I leaped for either side of the bed and grabbed his arms, pinning him down, while Al zha gently held his head and probed his agonized mind. I thought those few minutes would never end. It took all our strength to hold him, strength of mind as well as body, for we wanted to spare him, release him from the torture we were putting him through, but we could not! And through this hell he kept to his word and did not take the mental refuge he could have. The instant Al zha ceased contact he fell back unconscious. If Dian and I had not already been on our knees, we would have fallen, so sudden was his stillness; we were both weeping with grief and horror, but Al zha's face had frozen in a huge-eyed calm, pale as a tamriel blossom. She gave a quiet excuse and left the room.

When she returned she was composed enough to give us her diagnosis. Basically it is what I have already told you: his mind is safe, intact, but telepathically he has been savagely, devastatingly wounded. He is in total telepathic/empathic shock. Al zha's trembling description of the empathic/telepathic centers was, "If they were flesh, I would describe them as flayed: a bleeding mass of raw, exposed nerves. It is too soon to tell if they will heal or scar. He cannot bear any mental contact, whether he or another initiates it; with the pain, there is also a terrible fear of such contact. He fears to alerasa in any way, though he wants to. He is divided from himself, from us; he is lost and afraid . . . Oh, Ratha, I'm afraid! I can't help him, I don't know what to do . . . not enough strength, not enough skill . . ." She broke down, weeping hysterically; I held her, tried to comfort her, but how? I share her terror, her grief, her helplessness, as we all do. The four of us (she, Dian, Stefan, and I) agreed to a brief observation period, hoping beyond hope that Dival's own strength will be enough to start the healing and that then we will be able to help him.

Al zha detected a fear of the laboratory environment; he is reminded, however remotely, of the Baaneun cell. On her advice, our first action will be to transfer him to his own quarters; their "forested" familiarity should give him a small peace and reassurance. While we wait for him to wake, the telepathic shields are being installed around his rooms.

Ah velantar, astani, hope with us!

(Morel signature)

B52

TO: THIA CHENEN - LFC SHAR DA

FROM: SHARNA - TRANASTADAL, VELONA

Thia, Thia, os ecounana. Dor ecounana erl levet mena aer ano, mis liant. In surin altia o tobrin enta cadelan - zir! Ailoren-eno vash, irdan-os, velan-eno, hezatha erl silatom-ombra em-os, ola todralana al celbran o crivala lal os alevana ordan. Ano ecounana oa, ladiav; ano moravenana tonin-os; os entana availav erl crivala, o ano availana oa, lal ano felantena os aletela os entasta pantir . . . Dein lias ar os miria, hon os ondona cha in v avan al iverni; Mena-os r ; os moravena firin-ano aer tulhadan hon os enta relav alerl Chelacrev. Evlini-os enta erilin, irivas, h lal os hesa al ano hund velan-os. Os enta erl Inesti, hon al talaemi os encalbra.

Tecun, Dival ondona rembali, rembali shan, hon celbran hund velantar-ano! Dor letel lo contaba Dival aner shar; os moravena isvelan, moravena tuaevanos, su Dival radan. Chevrin-os, innel-os, enta ava peri hund dicelbran. Os enta ava rebra, erl halua-os; laestal-os; enta valovi aer ler orao adi.

Os enta ano folav, Thia. Ano entala carti. Limt embr limt os entala cumelan Chelacrev? Tuas, ehr chatu, adi, perilevath, aer lam adi. O lon ano? Ano embr cha. Ano os cori delena Chelacrev . . . Velantar-ano!*

(Sharna signature)

_______________

* Thia, Thia, he fell. Dor fell in a spirit run with me on the plain. The right leg and back are destroyed--Now with this tragedy our swift freedom, his joy, our love, the wind in his dark hair--all turned to pain and fear as he went down. I fell also, stopping. I held his hand; he was crying with fear, and I too cried as I tried to tell him he would be well. Lightfleet can heal him, but he does not have the will to live. His spirit moves; he holds my hand with force, but he is passing into Chelacrev. His eyes are strange, alien, even as he whispers to me of his love. He is in Haven, but at times he cries out.

Tecun, Dival has needs, great needs, but the pain of my Beloved! Dor says you should get Dival here fast; he holds life, holds himself until Dival arrives. His brow, his body, are so filled with agony. He is so old in his youth; his mind is weary with this deep burden.

He is leaving me, Thia. I will be alone. Who knows who he will be after Chelacrev? The same, yet different, new, a stranger with a new name. And for me? I do not know. I help him through Chelacrev-- my Beloved!

B56

TO: High Captain Thia Chenen - LFC Shar da

FROM: Sharna Colbon - Tranastadal, Velona

Thia:

I am lying on the liant, on a bed of orehesti. It is damp and cooling against my back, and the sweat is drying from my body. My legs ache to the bones from dancing and running; I am still breathing deep. I am alone; thank Shev, alone at last, out here in the wind and the night. The only one who could find me here is . . . He is no more.

Oh, Thia, I am so tired! But I want to speak with you, to tell you what has happened. Perhaps I am like Malon and Dival, trying to steady my own thoughts by recording them. Strange - I have used my subcom so rarely since I left Lightfleet, only three years ago. (Three years! Shev, it seems an age! It is an age!). Yet the old patterns return, the old call codes slip easily into my mind, flutter in my jaw, to reach you now on this personal frequency we once set up - how many years ago?

I left Dor 's bedside, left him grey-faced and glazed-eyed, to meet the Courier as it came down on the landing terrace. First out its door was Morel, tired, lines running deep around his eyes and his mouth tight and strained, yet with a warm smile and a hug for me. Then Malon, avoiding the steps and jumping down as I have seen her jump a thousand times from shuttles in - Shev, so many hundreds of places, and for a moment it was as though no time had passed at all and we were still agents together . . . Yet her hand on the door frame to steady herself and the slight wince as she landed, before her tired face glowed into joy at seeing me - these, and the open joy itself, forced home the realization of what she had been through. For a moment I shook with sobs in her arms; Morel touched my hair as she held me - yet I felt them gauging my strength, even as I had gauged theirs.

I was still brushing away tears - too few, too frequent these days to give much relief - when Dival appeared in the doorway. For just one instant, as he stood there looking down at us, I had the startled thought that he was well. But that instant sank suddenly into sick fear. His blank, remote, High Haven stare, his unmoving face set so drawn and pale - much though I had braced myself for this, I could not stop my hands from pressing against my mouth, or my thoughts from purging toward him with all the love and compassion and healing I wanted to give him. His face moved, shifted into grief and pleading, then suddenly agony and fear. All in the space of a second, as Malon pulled me roughly back and Morel sprang forward to catch Dival's sagging frame.

No more greetings, no words said. Morel and Malon walked beside Dival; such control those two have. Their faces were more set and still than I can remember ever seeing them, in their efforts to keep Dival from pain; no wonder they are so tired. I led the way to where Dor was waiting, but he met us at the door. Not physically, of course - his body lay mangled and deathly still on the bed - but in our minds, warm and tender, greeting, cherishing, free of body and pain, ready now to use the power he had been mustering. He gently pushed our minds away and moved into Dival.

We dared not follow what happened telepathically. Dor moved with such massive power and yet such delicate complexity that we feared even to hold our minds near. We saw it with our eyes only, and only my earlier conversations with Dor allowed me to know that he was moving into Dival's mind until every part of his enormous power held Dival's essence as perfectly and gently as a child is held in the womb. All we saw was Dival standing, head down, eyes closed, his face detached and calm - yet sometimes moving briefly, fleetingly, into a ghost of doubt or horror, or wonder, only to fade again to that suspended stillness.

An hour passed, an hour of waiting, growing stiff and cold in silent watching, hardly daring to breathe. Then, quite suddenly, Dival stirred, staggered a little, looked up blindly. "Astani?" he said unsteadily. Then he seemed to focus, and - my heart was suddenly pounding - smiled shakily and stretched out his hand. "Morel, I think I cannot stand." His mind was among us, gentle, joyous, free, still shaken, but touching us all the more tenderly for that. Morel and Malon were shaking as they helped Dival to a bed, shaking with joy and sobs and laughter . . .

Yet I had hardly needed Dor 's faint, urgent thought in my mind; I was outside, running swiftly up the steps and paths and terraces to the Call Tower, raising my chin and my mind, drawing in the great breath needed, and singing the ancient Call to Chelacrev out over the hills, again and again, my voice soaring out clear and unearthly over the liant, throbbing into the dark recesses of the forest, echoing faintly back to me off the distant white peaks of the mountains;

"Ueies, Esaon Chelan, ,Aeal R al Chenachelan, Oa R al Tulachelan, Aioira un Chelan, Al !" *

Dor had so little strength left; but when you reserve nothing, not even life, it is amazing how much strength you can find. And we were there to help; myself, Dival, even Morel and Malon in their way, and the thirty maavi who had come from all over the planet for this great effort. In some shadowed, forgotten reality we stood motionless in the hall where Dor lay dying. In essence we danced on the Great Lianti of Shev, the grass pale green and soft bronze, stirred shimmering by winds, under those blazing stars and deep, midnight blue sky. Dival for a while moved more powerfully than any of us except Dor ; he knew the feel of that earth from his last Chelacrev, the one on Gagarin. And yet how am I to describe Dor ? He remembers Shev with real memories, memories carried down through 12,000 years of Chelacrevs. He knows the shapes of the flowers glimpsed in the grass, knows the feel of the wind and of the turf, has danced, no doubt, in this very place. And his power, Thia; the music that shook us and tore at us with its glory - Oh, I cannot tell you.

Yet it had to end, and it did. Shaking, we found ourselves again in the world we had known; shaking and weak, standing and gazing at the new being standing in the center of the floor.

I knelt at Dor 's side. In his still form a shred of life lingered; I touched the face that used to move so quickly and expressively, but which now rested immobile. A faint breath stirred his chest, and for a moment I abandoned all I knew and clung to that breath, coaxing and urging those fading signs of life. Then a shadow fell over his face; the Child, kneeling across from me, looking down at the dying body. The Child's hand went out, touched Dor 's forehead and the shred of life was gone. I stared from one to the other, feeling an inexplicable horror as though I had just witnessed a murder. Then the Child spoke, softly, firmly, with a voice strangely familiar; "I have released him, Sharna. His life was over."

A Child, yet not a child. New, yet old. Strange, yet familiar. A new being, yet Dor , all that was Dor , all that has been Dor through Chelacrev generations for 12,000 years. A total transference . . . yet Creation, too, for the way his face moved, the way his hand brushed my face, even the way he cared for me, all were subtly different. I met his eyes, touched his mind, found all I had known, yet shifted into new patterns-

I didn't run. I walked alone from the hall, past all the friends wise enough to let me pass, and down to the liant. Only there did I run, stretching forward, bracing against the roaring wind of my own passage until the roaring blotted out the world. I could hardly see; I should have fallen, but I didn't. I lived, and now I lie here in the darkness, cool again at last, an empty place within me crying against all reason.

I will return with Malon and Morel to Indel. Perhaps with some retraining I can take over Zhen's old captaincy, as I think everyone has been hoping. There is no reason for me to stay here.

Era chantel talavenala vesa aer esan ishav. **

(Sharna signature)

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* "Surging, Rising to creation, The Mind Moves in the Dance of Creation. The World Moves with the Force of Creation, Freedom and Joy in Creation, Al !" (Ancient Velonian)

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** Soon the sky will become light with the coming dawn.