Author: Jasmine Sadrieh
Disclaimer: The Tomorrow People characters and situations are the copyright of Roger Price, Thames TV, Nickelodeon, Big Finish, etc.
This is a story about OS characters (John, Stephen, Elizabeth, Tim) set loosely in the Big Finish CD timeline
Rating: PG
It was late, and there was not much traffic on the Central Line. The operator sat in the front car, watching the tunnel lights stretch and blur and fade as the train raced past. There was very little time and very little light to see the shift in the air in front of him. Where there had been nothing, suddenly there was a man standing on the tracks, staring in frozen horror at the train speeding towards him.
****
A wailing siren shattered his dream and Stephen woke up, staring at the ceiling. He was in hospital; he could tell by the smell of disinfectant and the muted beep of the machine by his bed and the faint empathic wash of other people's worry and hope and despair. With the empathic sense came a sudden sharp headache; he winced, shaking his head to clear it, and sat up, staring around him. How did he get here?
Stephen got out of bed and padded to the window, staring out into the grey afternoon. This was Earth. He shouldn't be here; he had been on the Trig. He was mad; he had done something terrible...his thoughts shied away from the memory. He focused his mind to a single point, projected a thought, (John?)
A searing pain shot through his brain, and he cried out in surprise, clutching his head in his hands. He let go of the telepathic sending, and the pain faded to a dull throb. What just happened? The background noise of other minds in the hospital was louder now, too loud, like fifty radio programmes playing inside his head at maximum volume; he was a girl with a broken leg, an old man with cancer, a woman crying because her husband had died; they couldn't save him...
Stephen stumbled back to the bed, his hands pressed futilely to his ears as he tried to block out the cacophony of other people's pain.
****
"How are Paul and Elena doing with the Arulleans, Tim?" John carefully arranged another piece in a perfectly blank three-dimensional puzzle with seventeen sides that was spread out across three tables in the Lab.
"Not well," replied Tim. "There are some cultural differences between the Arulleans and the rest of the Federation, which are making the treaty negotiations difficult."
"What sort of cultural differences?" asked John.
"The Arulleans believe-Elizabeth!" exclaimed Tim, as Elizabeth materialised on the jaunting pad. "It is good to see you!"
"It's good to see you, Tim," replied Elizabeth, but as she stepped off the jaunting pad and hurried towards John, she was in obvious distress.
"Elizabeth!" John turned to her. "What on Earth-"
"I've come from the Trig," said Elizabeth. "John, it's Stephen. He's disappeared."
****
"There's brain damage," said the doctor matter-of-factly, staring at the MRI. "But it's like nothing I've seen before. With Alzheimer's you get a buildup of plaque in the brain-"
"I don't want to live anymore," mumbled Stephen, his head in his hands.
"-but this looks more like--scar tissue...along the inferior parietal cortex...Mr.--"
"Smith," Stephen offered. (That's original.) "John Smith."
"Mr. Smith," she continued. "Your brain activity is very unusual. Perhaps if you would allow me to run a few more tests-"
"I don't think that's necessary," said Stephen, standing up hastily. She was staring at him with the sort of fascinated speculative attention she might give to a rare bacteria discovered under a microscope. "I feel fine, actually."
"You haven't suffered from headaches?" asked the doctor.
"Not at all," replied Stephen, resolutely ignoring the pounding just above his right temple.
"Well, I suppose I've no choice but to let you go." (Did he jump? Is he a suicide risk?)
"No, I'm not, really," said Stephen, and then belatedly realised he had just answered her unvoiced thought. The doctor looked at him strangely as he left the room.
****
Elizabeth sat at the table, watching John pace back and forth across the Lab. "Timus thinks that Stephen may have jaunted to Earth involuntarily-"
"Involuntarily?"
"Timus believes that he's not completely in control of his TP abilities." Elizabeth tried to keep the dry disbelief out of her voice. Certainly Timus was entitled to his beliefs. It was his tendency to present them as facts that bothered her. "Stephen has been very empathically sensitive since...since what happened. He seems to pick up the emotions and the emotionally charged thoughts of everyone around him telepathically, whether he wants to or not. Timus thinks that this is due to a loss of control."
John's pacing slowed. "Timus thinks--?" He looked at her. "What do you think?"
Elizabeth sighed. Another irrelevant idea, she thought. "I think there's intention behind it," she replied. "I think it's his mind putting up a new safeguard, because the old one broke down."
"A safeguard against what?"
"What do you think?" Stephen had killed three people. At some point John would have to acknowledge that. "If he's reading the emotions of everyone around him, he's hardly likely to kill anyone, is he? He would feel their death-experience it as they do-telepathically. He might even die right along with them."
"I have some information that might interest you," said Tim. "A man was taken to Charing Cross hospital late last night with a severe concussion. Apparently he narrowly missed being hit by a train on the Central Line. The train operator said that it seemed as if the man appeared on the tracks out of thin air."
"Sounds like Stephen," said John. "Jaunting at the most inappropriate time and place, in front of as many witnesses as possible." He sighed. "You'd better check the hospital, Liz. If it is Stephen, he's in no state to be wandering the streets of London."
****
Stephen stepped out of the hospital into a grey, crowded street. As the people hurried by he was overwhelmed by someone's anger and jealousy towards his wife, someone else's hatred and scorn for his co-workers, a woman's panic and the stray thought (I can't tell him that; he'll be furious...). Stephen stopped walking, hands over his ears, head down, trying to wall off his mind. Someone dragging a suitcase bumped into him, and he looked up, smiling in apology. Her train was at 3:30, and Stephen sensed her anxiety as she hurried away, and, faintly, something else. She thought he had a sweet smile.
****
"He wasn't at the hospital," Elizabeth said as she stepped off the jaunting pad, unbuttoning her coat.
"I have just heard from Elena and Paul," reported Tim. "There is a crisis in the treaty negotiations with the Arulleans." As he spoke, Stephen materialised on the jaunting pad.
"What's the crisis, Tim?" asked Stephen. "Maybe I can help. Elizabeth! What are you doing here?"
John and Elizabeth looked at him incredulously.
"Looking for you," Elizabeth replied.
"Stephen!" He's alive, at least, thought John. He felt anger and irritation warring with overwhelming relief. Stephen winced, his hand going to his head.
"Yes, well, here I am," said Stephen, sitting down. "So, who are the Arulleans?"
"The Arulleans-" John began, and then stopped. Was he talking to an invaluable friend or a dangerous lunatic? Can we trust him? he wondered.
Stephen turned his head to look at John. "Trust who?"
"Arul is a planet very close to Sorson space," offered Tim. "An alliance with them is crucial to defending the Federation from the Sorsons."
"And the Arulleans agree that it could be crucial to defending Arul as well," added Elizabeth.
"So, what's the problem?" asked Stephen.
"The Arulleans consider themselves a warrior race," replied Tim. "Much of their culture and philosophy runs counter to Federation principles of peace and non-violence."
"I suppose they think war is a great and noble art," said John derisively.
"It is very important to an Arullean to die in battle," replied Tim. "Dying well, and for a worthy cause, is a warrior's most important achievement."
"So the Federation wants an alliance with the Klingons, does it?" said Stephen. "Marvellous."
"Be quiet, Stephen; this is serious," said John automatically.
"The cultural differences between the Arulleans and the Federation have led to a clash of personalities in the treaty negotiations," said Tim. "Timus is requesting your aid."
"Yes, we'd better go," said John. "Come on, Elizabeth." They stepped onto the jaunting pad. Stephen followed. "Not you, Stephen."
"But, John-"
"I don't have time to argue," said John.
Stephen heard the stray thought, (and we don't know what you're capable of), as he watched them disappear.
****
Stephen jaunted to the Trig alone. The cavernous, dimly lit Federation hall was crowded with delegates of all species and echoed with their voices, debating, discussing and arguing in a dozen different languages. Stephen felt a rush of other people's (anxiety, rage, disgust, confusion)...(The Federation is doomed if we don't come to an agreement)...(is that grease on my sleeve? I'll never get that out)...(I will not enter an alliance with cowards)...(that idiot! I told Tim not to let him jaunt)...
Stephen exhaled and tried to focus. He blocked off his mind, tightening it like a fist. There was blessed silence, at last, but it was like holding his breath. He could see John at the far end of the hall, arguing with one of the members of the Arullean delegation. The Arullean looked angry. John looked a bit smug.
"Arul needs allies, warriors who will fight alongside us against a common threat," the Arullean insisted.
"Ambassador Menach," said John. "For your species to evolve, as we have, into Tomorrow People, your civilisation needs to understand the importance of universal peace." John's starting a war for peace, thought Stephen, elbowing his way towards them through the crowd. "Those of us who are homo superior are physically unable to kill."
"Superior?" said Menach. "What are we, then? Hired thugs? Inferior, primitive aliens who will do your killing for you?" He spat on the floor.
"Now, calm down-" began John.
"I have been insulted enough!" Menach drew his sword, lunging towards John. Stephen, coming up behind them, made an awkward grab at Menach's arm, and the Arullean whirled around in a rage. One of the other Arulleans threw Stephen a sword, and he caught it, rather elegantly, he thought, which more than made up for that clumsy elbow grab. Preoccupied with his self-admiration, Stephen almost failed to notice Menach coming right at him with his weapon drawn. Stephen recovered enough to parry and riposte, breaking through Menach's guard and wounding his shoulder, but he felt his mental barrier collapse as his sword drew blood. Stephen gasped in surprise at the other man's pain, stumbling backwards as he felt a sudden, searing heat in his shoulder. The wounded Arullean took advantage of the opening and moved forward, disarming Stephen, who found himself against a wall with a sword at his throat.
Menach stepped back abruptly, lowering his sword. He looked at Stephen with something that might have been approval.
"Perhaps you are not all cowards," he said, glancing at John.
Stephen backed away, bringing his hands to his belt. John looked at him. (Where are you going?)
(Who knows?), replied Stephen. (I'm a loose cannon, aren't I?)
(Stephen-)
(Don't worry, John. It's been a long day. I won't be blowing up the Trig tonight.) Stephen disappeared.
****
When Stephen jaunted back the Lab was empty. He swayed for a moment, reaching to a wall for balance.
"Are you all right, Stephen?" Tim's voice echoed in the darkened Lab.
"Yes, I'm fine, Tim." Stephen walked across the Lab, rubbing his temples. "Did John tell you what happened?"
"Yes," replied Tim. "You took a great risk, Stephen. Menach could have killed you."
"I don't know," said Stephen, falling onto the bed. He was suddenly very tired. "Dying's a hard thing, Tim. I've been working at it for years! Still keep waking up." He rolled onto his side, eyelids heavy, letting sleep wash over him.
END