See Part One for Disclaimers
As they walked toward Susan's quarters Franklin tried once again to be included in the party. "Look, you two should not go alone. What if the child needs medical attention, and what about you? I know how badly you are hurt, and I know it's only sheer willpower that is keeping you upright. You need my help."
Marcus, who had been trying to keep a step ahead of the doctor suddenly whirled to face him, exasperation barely concealed in his stance. "I can't take half the command staff Down Below with me, you are all too well known. Not to the down and outs, but the criminal element most certainly know who you are. And besides, you want to keep this mission quiet, am I right? I am compromising the mission as is it, taking Ivanova with me. If we get into trouble, well, you know where we went. I'll check in with you in a couple of hours, but don't panic if you don't hear, things can change at a moments notice." Seeing Franklin was not convinced he added, "Susan is more than a match for any trouble we find, don't you agree?" His accompanying grin reflected on his friend's face as he nodded his agreement.
The door to Commander Ivanova's rooms flew open almost before they touched the panel, she stood back to let them in, and Marcus surveyed her with professional care. Her muted clothing was nondescript, not too new yet not too old either, her hair hung loose around her face and she had removed the small amount of makeup that she normally wore. It made her look younger, he decided. Only the tough set of her mouth and the knowledge behind her eyes gave the lie to her outward fragile exterior. She would do.
With many exhortations to take care they took a brisk walk to the transport. For all his bravado, Marcus knew that the painkiller currently circulating his system would not last forever; in fact it was highly unlikely to go much beyond another hour or two. Pain was something he had lived with before, but it slowed his reactions and dulled his senses in a way that could prove very dangerous on this mission.
Although Marcus had felt a familiarity with the child's location, much of Down Below had assumed a uniformity in its ragged appearance. Accordingly they started at the far end of the station, and for the next hour the two hunters made their way slowly from section to section, relying on Marcus' instincts and familiarity with the denizens. There were certain sectors that they could easily pass by; those peppered with the worst kind of bars and brothels. That was not the impression he had gained from his dreams. As they walked they discussed all that he had envisioned.
"If she is the child of a telepathic couple could this be why she managed to reach me, even if it was when my natural barriers were completely down?"
His assumption of her knowledge gave Susan pause to wonder at just how extensive his information might be. She shrugged noncommittally, "I wouldn't know, it seems highly unlikely or else the telepaths who were here at the time would have picked up on her." A passing thought that maybe they were on a wild goose chase crossed her mind, but as she watched Marcus' intent face, she knew that he would not be here unless positive of his memories.
The section they were about to traverse had a bad reputation and they walked with purposeful strides down each short corridor, wending their way between stacks of abandoned packaging. Suddenly Marcus froze in his stride, Susan, stepping past him, was unceremoniously grabbed around the waist and dragged back into the meagre cover two precarious stacks provided. Marcus clamped a hand over her opening mouth and breathed, "Company," into her ear. And although he removed his hand from her mouth, his other arm remained firmly clamped around her, pulling her closer to him and further into the shadows.
They waited in expectant silence, slowing their breath until they merged into the darkness. Seconds later the rapid sound of footsteps could be heard, not trying to conceal their approach. Low voices mingled in soft consultation and then the men were level with the hiding place where Marcus and Ivanova had secreted themselves. Their presence went unnoticed; deep in conversation, the two humans passed quickly and soon the sound of their footfalls could not be heard.
"What the hell is Shaker doing back on Babylon 5?" Marcus mused softly, eyes turned toward the retreating ruffians. His concentration was suddenly broken as Ivanova grabbed his hand and pulled it away from her waist, where it still held her firmly. His eyes were amused as they met her stormy gaze. "Sorry, a bit wrapped up there."
"So, who are they, why did we have to skulk in the shadows like a couple of second rate spies," she paused to take a breath, "and next time you grab me like that, Cole, be prepared for some major rearrangements to you features!"
His eyes twinkled at her irrepressibly before he sobered. "Shaker is bad news, very bad news. I thought Garibaldi had him banned from the station over six months ago. I think --" And here his words trailed off as his mind obviously engaged in uncomfortable thoughts.
"Who is he? The name doesn't ring a bell; why did Security ban him and, more to the point, why wasn't I told?" Her displeasure was only to be expected. As second in command of the station it had become her mission to be aware of everything that went on. Omniscience created a healthy respect within the lower ranks, and her inside knowledge had created quite a legend about her.
"I first came across this piece of filth about two years back, before I was officially assigned to Babylon 5. At that time he was working as a 'legitimate' trader, or at least that was his cover. He traded all right, in anything anyone wanted moved. Shaker and his team didn't care what the cargo was, drugs, stolen goods, refugees fleeing their homes -- all at a price you understand."
Susan nodded, she knew the type, had threatened to space one or two individuals early on in her career. Now she was happy to let Garibaldi throw them off the station. "We should let Michael know he's back. As soon as we get back to civilisation I'll report in."
Marcus gave her a hard look as they walked toward the next section. "Not everyone down here deserves your contempt, Susan. A lot of the poor sods down here came because they thought this place was the answer to all their problems. Then they arrive with not enough money to live on, no way to get a job and not a snowball's chance of ever affording the fare home again. They eke out an existence best they can." He shut his lips against further words as they entered an area that had been adapted to savage living quarters. Threadbare blankets hung over old boxes, providing a modicum of privacy; children played in quiet groups, their clothes barely covering thin arms and legs.
Marcus indicated for Susan to wait for him, and he entered the shantytown. She watched as he moved from one group to the next, smiling at everyone, eliciting a smile in return from some that obviously recognised the Ranger from previous visits. Now and again his hand dipped into a bag tucked securely into his belt and he would pass over a small packet which would be eagerly received. The children followed him as he moved from home to home, and every now and then, as a small hand would slip into his, he would stop to talk to the infant, caress a cheek or dispense a tit bit from his bag. It was a side of the Ranger she had never seen, one that she was sure he kept hidden from the rest of the station. He had been trained to kill, and she had seen him in action -- he was impressive, but there was this deep well of kindness within him. She felt the stirring of some long hidden emotion and quickly turned her thoughts to less complicated matters.
Susan, never comfortable with children, had become the focus of unwanted attention the minute they realised that she was with Marcus. He, seeing her obvious discomfort, returned to her side, routing the children with kind words and a promise to return when he could.
"There has been a lot going on that I was not aware of. I have been too involved with other things." Marcus' voice was tinged with a barely concealed bitterness Susan had thought foreign to his nature.
"Well don't keep it to yourself, spill it."
"It seems the Siskin child was neither the first, nor the last child to go missing. For the last year and a half, children have been going missing at the rate of maybe one to two a month. When the first one, a little boy of three, disappeared the parents reported him missing to Security. Two months later the case was still unsolved, the station was in the middle of yet another crisis and the case was sidelined. By that time another child, this time a girl of five had vanished. Her family and friends instituted their own search of the station as by that time no-one thought any help would be provided for them. Their status being what it was."
"But Garibaldi would not have let it slide, no matter what else was going on. You know him, Marcus, he hates to be bested over anything."
"I know that, and you know it, but to the people who exist down here he represents everything they can't have, and someone who tries to take away what little they do have. I understand them perfectly."
"Then we need to check the files as soon as possible, see what he came up with --"
"Oh, I can answer that, nothing! Not one child has been recovered, dead or alive. But I think I now know what Shaker might be doing on the station -- don't you?"
"Kidnapping children? Marcus, that is far fetched even for you!"
"You think so? But there a lot of desperate people out there, those who can't have children of their own and are not suitable candidates for adoptive parents. You must know how strict the rules became after that fiasco five years ago."
She nodded, "Yes, how many was it, ten, twelve?"
"Fifteen," he replied soberly. "Fifteen children who, instead of having the home of their dreams, ended up in the hands of a paedophile ring."
"You think these kids --?"
"I pray to Valen that they are not."
As they delved deeper into the rabbit warren of corridors, Marcus grew more and more sure that they were heading in the right direction. Though nothing made this area stand out from any other, the nagging sense of familiarity was back, stronger than before.
One last turn and he was sure that this was the place, the spot where he had sensed her presence. No child was visible, no sound reached his ears and his senses registered no other individuals. Frustration curled around him, and he began a thorough search of the area, knowing that he would not find her.
Intent on their task, neither Marcus nor Ivanova heard the stealthy footsteps that would have announced the trouble heading their way. Bending over a large crate, Susan's first intimation of trouble was the whack of a pistol butt to her exposed back. Luckily she was moving at the time and the blow landed low, painfully cracking a rib. Her fury warned Marcus and he turned swiftly, blocking the savage blow aimed at him. The men were large, heavy brutes. Low-life scum used by others as 'clean-up' operatives, they were good at their job and Marcus was less than his usual efficient self. Wrestling with grim determination, the two combatants fell from one stack of cases to another, sending debris flying in all directions. Every impact jolted through him like a blast from a stun stick. The fist aimed at his jaw missed him by a fraction as Marcus ducked, aiming a blow of his own to the exposed midriff. He felt it land with a solid thud, knocking the wind temporarily out of his assailant, who staggered back two steps, finally giving Marcus room to manoeuvre. Making a practised move of his right hand, he grabbed his pike and extended it in one fluid move in time to swing a hefty blow to the other man's head. The crack of metal on bone echoed around the area with a satisfying sound. Turning his attention to Susan, Marcus noted that his help was not needed. She stood, Amazon like, straddling the inert body, her face full of fury and satisfaction.
"Are you okay?" he asked, needlessly.
She shook back her hair and tossed him a scathing look.
"I think we had best vacate this area, don't you? Naomi isn't here and I get no sense of her at all." Marcus looked dejected as he turned away, taking one last look around him. His eyes suddenly lit on a scrap of light revealed by the melee that had just taken place. Bending down with difficulty, he scooped up the doll, holding it gently in both hands.
"You think --?"
"A doll would not be abandoned, Susan. These children have little to call their own, this would have been treasured." His eyes searched the area again, and his heart ached for what might have become of the child.
"Let's go back up, see what we can find in Garibaldi's files. At least we know she was here, up to a few days ago at least. We can resume the search later."
Marcus nodded. Susan's thinking was sound but he had a feeling, deep in his gut, that he should continue, now. There was no rhyme or reason to it, just instinct, and he always trusted his instincts.
"You go on, I'll catch up with you. There are a few places I want to check out first. Clue Stephen in on our progress, take him the doll too, there might be some information he can gather from it." He handed her the toy and began to move away from her, then stopped suddenly as the room began to spin. Staggering, he put out a hand, looking for support and found Susan's arm around him, holding him up.
"I'm alright, really." The pallor of his cheeks belied his brave words. Susan's expletive rang loud in his already ringing ears as her hand came away red with his blood. As her arm had reached around him, under his cloak, she had knocked the handle of a thin bladed knife, where it still protruded from his lower back. The blow expanded the wound, sending a sudden spurt of blood over her hand. As though that were not enough his earlier injury had reopened during the fight. Blood seeped in a steady trickle from both entry and exit wound and was even now soaking through his tunic and dripping to the floor.
***
"Dammit, dammit." Susan cursed as Marcus staggered again. His weight now too much for her as consciousness left him. He crumpled, face down, she going down with him.
On Marcus' insistence, she had left her link behind; it lay safely on her coffee table where it was of no use to anyone. Her dilemma grew. She had to get him help, sooner rather than later and she did not want to leave him. The pressure of her hands was all that held back the wash of blood threatening to drain his life energy. A few corridors back she had seen an old com box, one fitted when the station was being built, its purpose unknown. The station was full of such aberrations, hopefully this one worked; it was Marcus' only hope.
She made swift progress, running flat out until she reached the small box. Her heart was pounding uncomfortably, and not from the exertion. Breathing a huge sigh of relief at the sight of the link she pulled open the cover and found nothing inside. The box was empty of wires, control panel, anything that might have given her a fighting chance of making contact with Franklin and his medical team. Panic settled in her stomach as her mind went blank. And then she was running again, back along the winding path they had walked along bare minutes before, until she crashed into the shantytown and grabbed the first adult she could find.
When she could finally get through to the man she had accosted, he roused two others and they followed warily as she sped back to where Marcus might even now be dying. "For Gods sake hurry," she yelled back at her reluctant rescue team.
Running full pelt into the scattered boxes, Susan came to a sudden halt. The two heavies who had lain unconscious had vanished and Marcus' body had gone, only a bloody pool bore witness to his presence. She knew, beyond doubt, that he had not been capable of independent movement. Kneeling down beside the sticky red pool she closed her eyes and sent out her meagre telepathic senses. She found nothing. Around her, the three men who had tagged along so reluctantly, shared meaningful glances then turned away.
"No! You have to help me find him." Her voice impassioned.
"There'll be no finding him now. Taken, he is."
"You can't just desert him like this. I know he helps you, I saw how you reacted to him today. He is your friend; you can't just abandon him!"
The oldest of the men stepped forward and laid a tentative hand on her shoulder. "You don't understand our life down here. He does, and he would know there is no point in looking." With a sad look he turned away, gathering the others with him, leaving Susan crouched on the floor her dismay quickly turning to anger.
"Marcus, I swear on everything I hold sacred that if I find you alive, I will kill you myself!" The brightness of her eyes might have led some to suppose that tears were not far off, a slur she would have refuted to the death. Slowly she got up, and turned toward the nearest corridor that would take her back to the transports. She had to get to Stephen, and between them they would find the Ranger.
***
Inky blackness held him safe, its embrace comforting and seductive. Every muscle relaxed within him as he felt his resistance fading, giving up his body to the warmth that seeped through him.
Voices filtered into his consciousness, soft and friendly and he felt the gentle touch of a hand on his cheek. As he drifted the child's face appeared to him once again, no tears this time but her arms were held out to him, calling him. He tried to reach her, tried to lift his hand to hold hers but his limbs now felt like lead. Unable to move, to speak even, his mind revolted against the tyranny of his body's weakness.
"I think he's coming around. Stand back dear."
He heard the words but they made no sense, he was filled with the need to find Naomi. His whole being strove for lucidity; to free itself from death's compelling grip.
"Naomi?" his voice whispered into the darkness. His effort was rewarded by the touch of a small hand slipping under his, where it lay against rough blankets. Strange how he could distinguish that amidst the nothingness that surrounded him, he mused.
"Young man, can you hear me?" The elderly voice sounded musically in his ear. Soft and compelling, he found himself responding to it, trying to raise his lids to view the world again. It was too much; he had never felt so weak. He hoped he were back in Stephen's care and would wake to his friend's irascible diatribe and not in the middle of a living nightmare. Darkness took him again and oblivion swept him away on swift currents.
When next he awoke, energy, in some small measure, had returned. At least opening his eyes was no longer a test of his strength. A soothing coolness breathed over his still warm skin, and he realised that his tunic and cloak were missing leaving his chest and arms open to the air. Lids fluttered against the light as he turned his head to the side, trying to recognise his surroundings. The room was small, utilitarian. In one corner a set of shelves held medical paraphernalia. Bottles and jars juggled for space with rolls of bandages and some of the more gruesome metallic objects. Not Med Lab then --
"You're awake! How wonderful." Again the dulcet tones, unfamiliar yet soothing. The woman who had moved to his side was small, distinguished her grey hair coiled about her elegant head. She reminded him of his grandmother, that throwback to yesteryear, with her old fashioned clothes and her strictures on morality. But she had been the kindest person in his young life, taken from him when he was only eight years old. Even now he could remember her drilling into him a sense of responsibility and good manners. Gently done, but her will was of iron. This woman held that same steel within velvet look -- and he was comforted.
"Hello," his voice barely above a whisper.
"Well, you probably are full of questions -- Who am I? Where are you? And I will answer them all as soon as you have had something to eat and drink. You lost a lot of blood before my boys found you. I have done what I can and you seem a strong lad. I think you will do. Come, let me help you up."
She was surprisingly strong for a woman of her age, and Marcus could do little to help her. By the time she had raised the head of the bed, arranged his pillows to offer more support he was exhausted. She held a glass of water to his lips and helped him to sip slowly, when he had had his fill she left him, only to return with soup. Again, she helped him to sup the wonderful mixture. He felt its warmth slide down his throat, the taste exquisite on his tongue.
"Thank you," he said, with a heartfelt sigh. For the first time in an age he felt it would be okay to fall asleep and let someone else watch over him. But as his eyes began to droop, Naomi flashed into his thoughts and he struggled to lift himself.
A strong hand held him back, pressing him firmly back against the pillows. "Don't worry, she is safe, see?" Standing near the door, where his benefactress indicated, stood the little girl who had haunted his dreams and sent him on this most dangerous of missions. "They all end up here," she mused. "The lost, the hurt. Sooner or later they come to me, and I do what I can to help them. Now rest, all will be answered after you have slept."
Seeing that he still resisted, she called the little girl over. "Naomi this is --" she turned her gaze inquiringly to Marcus.
"Marcus. Pleased to meet you, Naomi."
The child smiled dazzlingly up at him, and patted his hand. Turning her impish face to the older woman she quipped, "See Maggie, I told you he had pretty eyes!"
***
Susan ran full pelt toward the nearest transport, scattering those foolish enough to get in her way. Flinging herself through the doors she ordered it to the nearest exit to Med Lab. The ride up was not long but in that short time she calmed her breathing, pulled her hands through her long, unfettered hair and did her best to present a more normal appearance. The aggressive stride and thunderous looks were not unusual aspects for Commander Ivanova to display, and they were in full force as she stormed her way into Stephen Franklin's domain. Anger kept any other emotions at bay, and it was with cold, deliberate words that she explained what had happened in Down Below.
"And when we reached the area he was gone!" Her hand slapped down hard on Stephen's desk. "They wouldn't help, and I had no idea where to start a search."
Her head tipped back as she tried to ease the tension from her neck. "I'll tell you this much, Stephen, he didn't get out of there under his own steam -- that knife was in as deep as it would go. It could have hit anything -- What the hell would anyone want with a dying man?" Her terrified exasperation was contagious and Franklin's face reflected his own concerns.
"We have to call in Garibaldi on this. It's gone too far for the two of us to deal with alone. Damn him," he swore softly, "he attracts trouble like a magnet."
"Just wait until we catch up with him," she growled softly, "he doesn't know what trouble is yet."
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