Fic: Splinters of the Past (1/2)

[cdybedahl]

Right. This is my contribution to the femslash08 ficathon. It's written for netgirl_y2k, who among other things asked for Susan/Talia Babylon 5 fic. Which this is. It is, however, very heavy on plot-type stuff and very light on smut-type stuff (like, this story is probably tamer than most of the aired episodes). Oh, and it kept getting longer, ending up at just over ten thousand words.

As usual, enjoy or not. If you don't like reading it here, you can also find it on my personal archive.

Splinters of the Past (1/2)

Written by Calle Dybedahl

Colonel Susan Ivanova leaned back in her command chair and looked out through the viewscreen. It was the middle of the night shift, and with most of the crew down at the research base she was the only one on the bridge. Heck, she was almost the only one on the entire ship. She'd assigned herself this shift to give herself some peace and quiet to write the daily reports President Sheridan had insisted on. It worked, as far as getting peace and quiet was concerned. But she had no idea what to write.

Outside, the space station slowly rotated around its own axis. The vorlon space station. The entire thing was yellow, swirly, rounded and vaguely alive-looking. Like Kosh's ship had been, except yellow instead of green. Possibly the color had a significance, but if so they hadn't the first clue what.

She sighed. Maybe just start with the traditional boilerplate. She pulled the keyboard closer.

"Second Interstellar Alliance Expedition to former Vorlon space," she typed. "Mission Day 33. Second day in Vorlon Space. Almost spring back in Geneva, I think. Expedition Commander Colonel Susan Ivanova reporting."

What more? Well, the things they hadn't done needed to be put in there. Might as well get that out of the way.

"We have not yet found any trace of the first expedition," she wrote. "Given that their target was the homeworld itself and we have not yet attempted an approach to that, this is not surprising. We remain at the edge of Vorlon space, in stationary position roughly one hundred kilometers from the outermost Vorlon presence we've found. This presence is a station, as previously reported. The exoarcheologists have boarded and established a base camp in what appears to be a landing bay. A huge landing bay, it's easily a kilometer across. We have nowhere near the time to do a detailed investigation of the station, but the science people want to spend some time on it to get a feel for the kind of things we may be finding further along. I've given them four days before we proceed inwards."

She rested her hands in her lap.

And I can feel the damn thing looking at me, she added mentally. It's kind of like when Bester tried to sneak a scan, except so much more subtle I'm not a hundred percent sure it's even there.

She didn't want that in the report. Sure, the Vorlons were well known to have used living technology, but none of the other sensitives on the expedition felt anything, and they were all P5 or higher. That they should feel nothing while P-bugger all Ivanova felt something was just ridiculous.

Unless the station was singling her out. Which was something that wasn't entirely impossible, after all. She'd been closer to an actual living Vorlon than nearly the entire human species, while they'd had Kosh on Babylon 5. A few had been closer, of course. President Sheridan. Doctor Kyle. Lyta Alexander. G'kar.

They'd all been changed by the contact. Changed a lot, mostly. Just the thought that a Vorlon artifact might be paying her special attention gave Susan the creeps.

She put her hands back to the keyboard.

"Next report scheduled in 24 hours. Expedition Commander out," she typed. She hit "send" quickly, before she could change her mind. The signal would be picked up by a ship waiting far outside Vorlon space and relayed from there to Minbar and Geneva.

The ship was also keeping a constant eye on the four expedition ships, in case they vanished without a trace like the first expedition.

Ivanova sighed. Why the Hell had she let Sheridan talk her into doing this? The entire thing was insane. The chances of finding something useful were slim at best, and the risk was far too high. She wished she'd brought more vodka. Failing that, that the crew engineers would get around to arranging an illicit still. Which they so far hadn't. Curse her reputation for knowing everything that went on aboard her ship.

The communication system crackled to life.

"Colonel Ivanova?" a voice said. Lieutenant Commander Jones, her executive officer and currently the commander of the on-station base. She sounded nervous.

Susan had never heard her sound nervous before. Afraid, yes. Angry, yes. Exasperated, often. Nervous, no.

"Speaking," she said. "What is it, Alice?"

"Um," Jones said. "The science people. They've found something."

"They're on a space station several kilometers in diameter built by incredibly advanced aliens," Susan said. "It'd be pretty strange if they didn't find something."

"It appears to be a human female," Jones said.

Susan frowned.

"It appears to be? Is there something strange about her? Apart from being here at all?"

There was an unusually long pause from Jones.

"I think you'd better come take a look yourself, Colonel," she finally said.

Susan had been aboard the Vorlon station once before, shortly after they first arrived. She'd been stunned by the sheer unimaginable size of the place then, and she was now. Everything the expedition had brought in was dwarfed in comparison.

When she stopped to think about the place the feeling of disquiet just got worse. What had the Vorlons needed a space this size for? And why was it filled with what was almost exactly an Earth-normal atmosphere? Given that they chose to live in environment suits anyway, they could have filled the place with anything they wanted. So, obviously, they wanted an Earth atmosphere. And she was back at the disturbing.

With, this time, an extra strong feeling of being observed.

"Sir?"

She snapped out of her thoughts. Alice was standing at attention next to her.

"At ease, Lieutenant Commander," she said. "And why are you standing at attention in the first place? You know you don't need to do that when it's just us."

Alice nervously licked her lips.

"The... thing... is this way," she said, indicating a direction. "It's a bit of a walk. Maybe we can get started?"

Susan shrugged. "Sure," she said.

They started walking.

"There is something I haven't told you, sir," Alice said.

"I sure hope so," Susan said. "You'd be a terrible XO if you didn't know what to keep from me."

"No, not that," Alice said. "Er... You remember the movie? Voice of Freedom?"

Susan utterly failed to stifle a pained groan.

"Oh God," she said. "Don't tell me you're a fan."

The movie had been made a couple of years after the civil war against President Clarke's regime, and Susan had always suspected that Sheridan had secretly financed it. It gave an only slightly propagandized version of their side of the war -- except on one point. It had painted Susan herself as a capital-H Hero. A warrior who would brave anything, do anything, fight anyone for what she thought was right, for those she loved and for capital-F Freedom. And the worst thing about it was that she couldn't even point at a single fact in it and say "There! That bit is wrong!". It was all in the editing, in the presentation, in the selection and use of what material they had. They'd even used a damn recording of that impromptu "Who am I?" speech she'd given when the White Star fleet went up against Clarke's Shadowtech-augmented destroyers.

The two years after the movie came out, Earthforce basic training had been crawling with bright-eyed young women who wanted to be the next Ivanova. There had even been a fan club.

"I'm afraid I was," Alice said. "A bad one. I had the movie poster on the wall in my room my entire time at the Academy."

"Which one?" Susan said.

"Sir?" Alice asked.

"Which version of the poster did you have?"

She sneaked a look at her subordinate officer through the corner of her eye. The woman was blushing. Ah.

"The retracted one, I'm afraid," Alice said.

Well, at least she was honest.

Susan grinned at her.

"Do you want it signed?" she said.

Alice looked shocked.

"I don't have it here!" she said.

"I mean," she tried to correct herself, blush growing stronger, "I don't have it any longer."

Susan chuckled.

"Of course you don't," she said.

They walked on.

"I thought you hated that poster," Alice said after a little while.

"Generally speaking, I do," Susan said. "The media agency took a rejected picture and edited it to look even more revealing than it already was, then published it without asking me first. That kind of thing tends to get me into one of my less pleasant moods."

"Is it true that you tried to shoot the head of the agency?"

"Definitely not," Susan said. "I don't miss at a range of two meters. I just wanted to scare the scumsucking bastard. Worked, too. And why are we discussing this again?"

"Right," Alice said, suddenly losing the blush and looking more serious. "While at the Academy, I looked up your actual history in the Earthforce files. There was a lot of stuff there that never went into the movie."

She bit her lip.

"And one of those bits are why I forbid the science people to touch this before you'd seen it," she said.

Susan's eyebrows rose.

"It's got something to do with me?"

"See for yourself," Alice said and pointed ahead.

It was a tank. Cylindrical, standing on one end on a waist-high plinth of swirly Vorlon material. The cylinder itself was clear, and filled with a transparent golden-colored fluid.

A fluid in which floated the naked body of Talia Winters.

She was obviously unconscious. She was roughly in a standing position, but floating free in the middle of the cylinder. Her eyes were closed, and as far as Susan could immediately see she wasn't breathing.

More or less on autopilot, Susan walked around the tank. It really was Talia. She remembered those birthmarks. The scar on her buttock.

"I recognized her from files about Babylon 5," Alice said. "Talia Winters, commercial telepath on the station and rumored to have been... close to you."

"Is she alive?" Susan asked.

"I don't know," Alice said. "As I said, when I recognized her I suspended all work on the tank until you got a look at it."

Susan looked around. There was nothing but the plinth and the tank for as far as she could see. Just flat floor, a ceiling far above and a Vorlon tank with her dead lover in it. Suddenly the theory that the station was actually observing her particularly didn't seem quite so far-fetched, but a lot creepier.

"Colonel?" Alice said. "What are your orders?"

"Study this thing," she said. "Try not to do anything whatsoever to it except observe it in the most insanely detailed way the science bods can imagine. Focus on her to begin with. I want to know if she's alive. I want to know if she ever was alive, and if so who she really is. I want to know everything about this."

"Yes, sir," Alice said. She brought her communicator up to her face and started speaking rapidly into it.

Talia.

On a Vorlon space station.

The more she thought about it, the more disturbing it got.

The next morning, Susan was the first to arrive in the conference room where they held the daily briefings for the expedition's various group leaders. Usually, she waited until the last minute, getting there are late as possible without being too late. But not today. She'd spent the night unable to sleep, pacing through the near-empty ship in an effort to get physically tired enough to get at least a little bit of sleep. It hadn't worked, so when the clock approached seven she gave up and headed for the conference room.

Talia. Talia Winters. Killed by the Psi Corps in the year 2259, mentally if not physically. And now she was here. Or at least her body was. The body that used to be hers. The body that had, for a much too short time, shared Susan's bed.

"Report," she growled as soon as the final attendee walked through the door. "What do we know about the find in the hangar bay?"

"Um," the head of the exoarcheologists said, "we don't actually know if it is a hangar..."

Susan glared him into silence. Rodriguez, his name was.

"You know what I mean," she said. "So report."

"Right," he said. He cleared his throat. "For those here who may not be fully up to date, we have found a Vorlon artifact containing what appears to be the body of a human female. There are, um, many questions raised by this find."

He leaned forward over his notes and ran a hand through his sparse black hair.

"To begin with, it is the only artifact in chamber number one. Considering that the chamber in question has a floor area of almost a square kilometer and the artifact was found in the exact geometric center, we assume that this is no accident. The artifact was placed there in order to be found.

The head of the exoarcheoengineering group, a wiry little gray-haired woman by the name of Francesca M¸ller, spoke up.

"Are we sure it is a human female?" she asked. "That seems like a strange thing for the Vorlons to put there."

"We aren't sure of anything at this point," Rodriguez said. "But as far as can be ascertained from visual inspection alone, the woman in question is an exact match for a Psi Corps-registered commercial telepath by the name of Talia Winters. Since we know that the Vorlons were heavily involved in the advent of human telepaths, this makes her presence here slightly less strange. That she was officially reported as deceased more than a decade ago pretty much cancels that out, though."

"Do we know where she died?" the head of the exoarcheoinformatics team asked. Susan didn't like him and hadn't managed to remember his name. George something.

"According to the same files holding her medical data, death of personality occurred at Babylon 5 in late 2259 and death of body in the Psi Corps research facility in Syria Planum on Mars a few weeks after that. She is reported as having been buried at the Syria Planum Memorial Grove early in 2261. The reason for the long delay between death and burial is not recorded, but the proximity of the burial time to the date of the battle of Coriana VI certainly raises questions. We have sent a message to the team digging through the old Psi Corps records in the hope that they may find something that clarifies the situation."

"Do we know what she died from?" M¸ller asked.

Rodriguez sat up straighter.

"I know I've been talking about 'the body of'," he said. "This is because we know so little and the find is so strange. However, we have been able to detect life signs. We can hear heartbeats, and spectrometry of the fluid in the tank shows that it is a known variety of highly efficient oxygen carrier used by among others the Minbari and the Centauri. We are at the moment bringing in equipment to try and detect neural activity, but even a cautious analysis of the available data points towards the artifact -- or, I should perhaps say, Miss Winters -- being, in fact, alive."

For a few moments, the room was utterly silent.

"Do we know how long she's been there?" maybe-George asked. He sounded as stunned as all of them looked.

"No," Rodriguez said. "But the tank and the plinth are connected to the rest of the station, so whoever put it there had full control of Vorlon technology. As far as we know, that means she must have been put there by the Vorlons themselves or by other beings of the same order. Since the end of the Shadow War, no such beings are present in our galaxy. It therefore seems reasonable to assume that she has been here at least since the end of that war."

"This is amazing," M¸ller said. "She may be an eyewitness to the last days of the Vorlons!"

"I think we should hope very cautiously," Rodriguez said. "She was reported as having suffered the death of personality, and she has been in unattended suspended animation for at least a decade. While the body appears to be alive, it is far from certain that there is any brain function. Or, if there is, that there will be a personality we can communicate with."

"What are you going to do?" Susan asked.

"Observe more," Rodriguez said. "As I said, we are bringing in more instruments. Which, in fact, pretty much means just about every instrument we have or can borrow. Once we have recorded as much as we possibly can, then, well..."

He looked around the table.

"We try very, very carefully to wake her up."

"I bring gifts."

Those words, spoken as Talia walked through the door to Susan's quarters on Babylon 5, had been the real beginning of the relationship between them. They'd talked before that, of course. Been repulsed and attracted to each other from the very beginning. Before, even. Susan had resented Talia before they'd ever met, just because of what she was. She started changing her mind after the Jason Ironheart incident, after watching Bester and his fellow Psi Cop treat Talia just as condescendingly and nastily as they treated everyone else.

Susan had always had a serious soft spot for those treated badly by the Psi Corps.

A soft spot that had, in Talia's case, grown into something much greater. That night, when Talia had come to her quarters carrying glasses and wine, that was when things had changed between them. The watershed. Before, they were good friends. Good enough to drop in announced late at night after a long day. After, they had both found in the other something they hadn't even known they missed in themselves.

She could clearly remember the look of intense nakedness and vulnerability on Talia's face as she removed first her black gloves and then her Psi Corps insignia. In a way, those simple actions had been the first step. Talia had, psychologically if not in fact, distanced herself from the Corps. She who had always belonged to something took one frightening step outside -- and met Susan. Susan, who had always been alone, never letting anybody get truly intimate, until Talia.

And to think that it might never have happened that way if they hadn't both got a bit drunk and ended up together in Susan's bed.

Susan wasn't much of a telepath. Sure, she had the gene from her mother. But she was too weak for it to be useful. At best, she could get some sense of stronger emotions from someone she touched, or tell if a strong telepath tried to scan her.

Unless, it turned out, it was another telepath who touched her. Then, there could be full two-way communication. And so, tipsy and horny, Susan had found out what it's like when telepaths make love. A connection not only of bodies, but of minds. Of complete, uncensored communication.

After the first rush of ecstasy, it scared the living daylights out of her. If it hadn't been someone she was already strongly attracted to, someone she already felt fairly safe with, she might have shot them. But now it was. It was Talia. So brittle, so vulnerable inside. In their minds, Susan held her and protected her. For that, she had to let her inside -- and so she discovered the relief of not having to be standing strong by herself.

Susan had very little idea how long time it had taken according to an outside clock. In the mental space they shared, it felt like ages. In the morning, when they had to leave each other, they looked each other in the eyes and knew that they would have to meet again, investigate what had happened, what they now were to each other.

They were still in that process a few short weeks later when the Control personality destroyed what had been Talia Winters.

Midnight.

Susan couldn't sleep. She was back on the EAS Orpheus, sitting in the command chair on the bridge watching a video feed from the base camp in the Vorlon hangar. They'd moved the base camp right next to the tank with Talia in it, and there was activity around the clock. Lots of people she didn't know operating lots of equipment she hadn't a clue what it did.

She turned on the audio feed as well, so she could hear what they said.

"Fazzioli probe node one online," a voice said. "Status nominal."

"Node two online," another one said. "Status nominal. Starting sinus pulse train."

"Nodes three and four nominal," the first voice said. "Receiving pulse train. Switch to modulated wave."

"Switching."

As far as she could tell, the voices came from two people typing on keyboards.

"Node three is a bit warm," the second voice said. "Increasing liquid helium flow."

"Are we still under three Kelvin?"

"Yes. Data should still be good. Are we getting data?"

"Checking... Yes, we are. Running first-approximation..."

Suddenly one of the typists in the picture looked up from her monitor to the tank with the naked woman in it.

"Holy shit," she said. "We're getting delta waves. She's sleeping."

"Keep recording," the other one said. "It's just a first approximation. It can still look different once we do a full crunching run on it."

"Not that different. This here girl is alive, for sure. Hot damn, this is going to make for one awesome entry on our resumÈs."

"If we ever get back home from here..."

Susan abruptly turned off the feed.

Alive.

She wasn't the slightest bit surprised, she realised. Talia was here for a purpose, and there were precious few purposes served by even the most well-preserved corpse. No, she had to be alive. Alive to fulfil her function. As for what function...

She hit the call button on her communicator.

"Communications Officer," she said. A beep told her that the system had connected her.

"Lieutenant Madison?" she said.

"Speaking," the tinny voice came from the little metal thing on the back of her hand.

"I need a Gold Channel from the bridge to Interstellar Alliance Headquarters on Minbar," she said. "Top priority, and you are to be using the wartime crypto keys."

She could imagine him staring in disbelief at his communicator.

"Yes, sir," he said after a little while. "Who at the IAH end should I be asking for?"

"President Sheridan, if possible. If not, then Delenn."

"Yes, sir. If none of them are available, then who?"

She thought about it. Who there had been around and on the inside during the early years of the Alliance and during the Telepath War? Lennier, of course, but he was dead. Garibaldi, but she really didn't want him to hear about this, and besides he was on Mars.

"Nobody. In that case, leave a message requesting for one of them to contact me as soon as possible."

Again there was a slight pause.

"Yes, sir," he finally said.

Susan smiled a grim little smile. She wished she could hear what rumors would be flying through the expedition come morning.

"Doctor Rodriguez, report please."

Another day. Another status meeting. This one far more well-attended than usual. Everyone wanted to know what was going on. Including Susan herself, so she might be able to keep herself awake in spite of having slept really badly when she finally fell asleep at all. She'd kept dreaming about Kosh.

"Right," Rodriguez said. "As I said yesterday, we brought in neural-scanning equipment. And we have a result from it."

"And this result is?" Susan said. She didn't have the patience for dramatic storytelling.

"She's alive," Rodriguez said. "No question about it. As far as we can tell, she's in a state of slow-wave sleep. And she's waking up."

Commotion erupted around the table. Everyone was shouting out questions at once, and none were being answered. After a little while of this, Susan's temper got the better of her. She brought out her nastiest Commanding Officer voice.

"Everyone shut up!" she shouted.

Silence.

"Good," she said. "Doctor Rodriguez, please explain what you mean about her waking up."

"Exactly what I said. The distribution of wavelengths is changing in a way that greatly resembles the normal process of waking up, except that it is proceeding very slowly. If nothing changes, we expect that she will gain consciousness in about 48 hours."

Susan kept her face impassive.

"Is there anything else noteworthy about the neural results?" she asked.

Rodriguez visibly hesitated.

"Um," he said. "Yes. There are patterns that are similar to those associated with telepathic ability. Which we expected, with her being a known telepath, but they look... odd."

Susan took a data crystal from the inside pocket of her uniform jacket. She held it out to him.

"On this crystal you will find two sets of neural scans," she said. "I want you to compare both of them to Talia's and let me know what you think."

He received the crystal as if it might bite him.

"Who are they of?" he said.

"That is classified," Susan said.

Maybe-George from exoarcheoinformatics frowned.

"Classified?" he interrupted. "How can it be classified? We all had to be cleared for Top Secret material just to come on this expedition!"

Susan just glared at him.

"Um," Rodriguez said. "It would help a lot if we knew something about the people these were taken from. Their species, if nothing else."

That was a fair point, Susan had to admit. And when Delenn had called in the small hours of the morning, Susan had only promised to say as little as possible. Delenn knew better than to demand that she say so little that the data became worthless.

"The scans are from two human telepaths," she said. "The first was male, the second female. They are both deceased. At the respective times the scans were taken, they were both classified as P-13."

Maybe-George interrupted again.

"13?" he said. "I thought the scale only went to 12."

"It does," Francesca M¸ller said. "P-13 is an informal classification used to describe individuals whose abilities go beyond what we can measure."

Susan didn't comment.

"Doctor Rodriguez, do you have anything further to add?" she said.

He shook his head.

"No," he said. "We will keep observing, but at the moment I think any action would be extremely ill advised."

"I quite agree," Susan said. "Ok, this meeting is over. I'll see you all the same time tomorrow. Dismissed."

That last bit wasn't strictly correct, since none of the people at the meeting were actually military, but she'd found that it had a tendency to actually get people moving. This time, it seemed to get everyone except Francesca M¸ller moving. Susan looked up from her papers at her.

"Yes?" she said.

"I lived on Mars during the Clarke regime and the Telepath War," M¸ller said. "I saw... many things. One of them was a woman by the name of Lyta Alexander."

Again, Susan worked hard at keeping her face impassive.

"She had passed through the telepath underground early in the Clarke days, I was told," M¸ller said. "And that after that she had gone to the Vorlons. That she came back from there... changed."

Susan kept looking at her face as she talked. She wasn't at all sure what the woman wanted to say.

"When I first heard the rumors about her, I dismissed them as fairy tales. But then I met her."

M¸ller looked Susan into the eyes.

"At the start of the Telepath War, the Psi Corps would send large groups of soldiers and Psi Cops into our settlements to look for rogue telepaths. I was with a group of rogues when they were found. We were completely surprised. I was sure we were all going to be killed. And then she appeared."

M¸ller made a gesture as if she was lacking words.

"It was a slaughter," she said. "Forty or fifty bloodhound troopers and eight Psi Cops. At first we didn't understand what was happening. The bloodhounds just started screaming in horror and firing at each other. I don't know if the Cops did anything. I suppose they did, but that it was all telepathic. Nothing we mundanes could see."

She wasn't looking at Susan any longer. Her gaze had gone somewhere else. Into memories, most likely.

"And then she was just there. One moment, nothing. The next, it was as if she'd been there all along. Standing in the middle of the Corps people, an empty space all around her and lit by a strange light coming from nowhere. Smiling. The Psi Cops looked at her, and one by one their faces filled with the most complete terror I have ever seen, before or since."

M¸ller closed her eyes and swallowed.

"And then they exploded," she said. "For no visible reason. They just exploded. Blood and guts and bone splinters flew all over the room. I found..."

She fell silent for a moment.

"Never mind. The bloodhounds who hadn't been shot by their friends just died. Like that."

She snapped her fingers.

"Just fell down and weren't alive any more. We... we were nearly as shocked as the few surviving Corps people, I think, only we were alive and unhurt. 'Who are you?' one of us whispered. I have no idea who. It may even have been me. She looked at us, smiled the creepiest smile I have ever seen and said 'My name is Lyta Alexander. Tell the Psi Corps to remember Byron.' And then she wasn't there any more."

M¸ller opened her eyes again and looked at Susan.

"I think you're afraid that what's in that tank is someone like her. Someone completely beyond our ability to stop, perhaps beyond our ability to even comprehend. And you'd rather know before she wakes up. That neural scan you gave Rodriguez, the female one, it was of Alexander, wasn't it?"

"You know I can't confirm or deny that," Susan said.

"I guess not," M¸ller said. "I can even kind of see why it'd be a good idea to keep something like Alexander secret."

"Good, I suppose," Susan said. "Was there anything else?"

M¸ller shook her head.

"No," she said. "Nothing else."

Of course the female scan was of Lyta. Who else would it be? As far as Susan knew, Lyta Alexander and Jason Ironheart had been the only two psionically superpowerful humans. Or, at least, the only ones outside Psi Corps laboratories.

What worried her was that they had started out as ordinary telepaths. Ironheart had been P-10 before the Corps started experimenting on him, and he ended up transforming into some kind of energy being. After almost destroying Babylon 5, due to seriously lacking control of his powers.

Lyta had been P-5 before she went to the Vorlons. She'd certainly never displayed any problems controlling her later powers, but then she had been modified by beings who had a far better idea of what they were doing than the Corps had when they changed Ironheart.

When she died, Talia wasn't a normal telepath. Sure, officially she was still only a P-5 commercial telepath. But Ironheart had done something to her. Susan knew that she had been able to block Bester's scans without him noticing, and that she had had weak but useful telekinetic powers. As far as Susan understood the scale, that meant that she had been P-13 even then, since mentally stable telekinetics were extremely rare and nobody at all was supposed to be able to block a P-12 undetected.

It might be those changes that Rodriguez and his team saw, of course. But somehow Susan couldn't really believe that. She felt sure that the Vorlons had modified her further. Possibly a lot further. If Talia was now as far above what she had been as Lyta had been above her earlier P-5 state... It kind of made her wonder were you'd draw the border between a very powerful human and a living god.

Which would be pretty neat, if she was still Talia. If the body instead held the Control personality... Then it would be very, very bad.

Proceed to part two.

Comments

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[(Anonymous)]

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