From: "Aubrey W. Adkins" <xazqrten@home.com>
Subject: Adventures of Lyta After G'Kar Part 27 of ---(WIP)
Date: Tue, 07 Mar 2000 15:14:40 -0500

Adventures of Lyta After G'Kar Part 27 of ---(WIP)
 
   Criticism is welcomed. Without, it there can't be any
improvement. Address criticisms to [xazqrten@home.com]

Think of this as a space opera.

          All characters/places/persons not belonging to the writer are
the sole properties of their owners, PTEN, WB, JMS, and will be
turned over to the owners at the request of their agents.  All other
characters/places/persons are public domain.

Rated PG-10 (Vocabulary)

"..." = spoken words
<...> = telepathic speech
[...] = one's own thoughts, internal
(...) = to set off items such as acronyms immediately identified by the
phrase they stand for.
'...' = to set off odd items???
I don't have one for italics... yet.

******************************************************************************
   Sitting in the seat across from the young man who had been sent to
meet her, Lyta couldn't help noticing that he
kept staring at her.

   "Is something wrong?" She asked.

   "No ma'am," replied her young escort.

   "You keep staring at me. I'm beginning to feel like a fish in a
bowl."

   "I'm sorry. I just never expected to meet you in person."

   Harry, would you mind explaining that?"

   "It's like this Miss Alexander. I was just starting college when the
telepath war happened. Me and my friends
watched every news cast we could, trying to follow the war. We didn't
know what it was all about, but we fell in
love with the beautiful redhead that kept popping up on the newscasts.
That was you. I think all of us had a crush
on you. I don't think any of us ever expected to meet you."

   "I hope I haven't been a disappointment."

   "No ma'am. You're even better than in the newscasts."

   "How old are you, Harry?"

   "Blushing, he replied, "I just turned twenty. I can't legally order a
drink yet."

   Quick subtraction told Lyta that she was old enough to be his mother.
"You give nice complements, Harry. How
is it you finished college so young?"

   He blushed even more at her statement. "I haven't. I am part of a
co-op education program. We go to school for a
semester and the work for the company for a semester. Each time we work
for the company, we work in a different
department or division."

************************************

   "It's quite a nice apartment, Harry. I was expecting to be staying in
the one I used a few weeks ago. Is there
something wrong with that one?"

   "I don't know, Miss Alexander. Which one did you stay in before?"

   "It was number 301."

   Harry walked over to a computer/communications station and made some
entries. Looking at the results on the
display, he said, "According to this, Miss Alexander, it's being
renovated."

   "Then, that answers my question. I just hope Michael and Robert don't
expect me to spring for the difference in
rent."

   "It isn't costing you anything, Miss Alexander."

   "Well, I hate to run you off, but I need a shower, and then I need to
see Robert Bryson."

   "You should try his apartment first, Miss Alexander. It's past
quitting time for us minions."

   "Harry, you and your friends never expected to meet me. Do you still
have classes with them?"

   "Yes Ma'am.'

   "I'm going to give you something to talk about the next time you see
them."

   Lyta stepped very close to the young man. Harry's heartbeat increased
as did his breathing. Lyta put her arms
around his neck and kissed him on the cheek and his knees started to
feel weak. He put his arms around her and
pulled her up against him. She kissed him on the mouth and gave him the
telepath feedback treatment. She had to
help keep him on his feet as his knees buckled. Releasing him, she said
in a husky voice, "Now you have
something to tell them."

   Harry just breathed very hard as his heart rate shot up to three
times normal.

   "I think you should go now, Harry. I don't think you're ready for
this," Lyta noted casually.

   Slowly regaining his composure, he said, "I've never been kissed like
that before."

   "Consider it something to remember me by."

   Harry managed to navigate out the door and down the passageway. Lyta
hoped that kiss hadn't ruined him for the
girls he would kiss in the future.

   She had lowered her mental shields and examined the thoughts Harry
had been thinking during the kiss. He was
genuine, and had been sent by his boss, the public relations director,
to pick her up and put her in this room. She
would visit the fellow in the morning.

*********************************************

In Bryson's office that evening:

    "Are you trying to make points with Michael?"

    "Not at all, Lyta. I don't have a family or girl friend, so I spend
a great deal of time here. I get a lot of work done
after everyone else leaves."

   "How long have you been doing this routine?"

   "Ever since Mike took over the corporation. He more or less cleaned
house, and I got this position. We had
known one another from when he first dated Lise. That was a long time
ago. We met again during the civil war
and that is pretty much it."

   "You have the data I requested?"

   "Of course. You don't waste much time." He handed her two data
crystals.

   "I'll look these over tonight and get with you tomorrow. I'm going to
have to go to Earth."

   "Don't they still have warrants out for your arrest?"

   "Yes, and I am going to make that work for me before it's all over."

   "May I ask just what you're going to do?"

   "Not much really. I plan to gather further information from the
people listed on these crystals and make some
changes in the health of some of them. With others, I might just have an
intense philosophic discussion. I figure it will take me a couple of
months to meet and assess them all, taking appropriate action for each
of them."

   "I'll have my staff start making travel arrangements first thing in
the morning. How are you going to get to
Earth, since your shuttle is undergoing modification?"

   "Simple, I'll go on commercial carriers. Lyta Alexander, attache to
the Glenthorian ambassador, isn't wanted
on Earth. Even if they arrest me, which I'll make sure they do at the
appropriate time, I'll have diplomatic
immunity. Therefore, they will have to release me. The worst that can
happen is that I will have to leave Earth and
that is no longer a big deal."

   "Well, if there isn't anything else, I'll see you sometime tomorrow
morning."

   "There is one thing, Bob. I was put into room 223 instead of 301, the
one I used a couple of weeks ago. The kid
who picked me up at Mars Port checked the computer file and said the
room was being renovated. Room 223 is
loaded with monitoring devices. I located the control room for the
devices."

   "That room was built by, and for William Edgars. Mike gave orders for
it, or at least the equipment, to be
dismantled and removed. Apparently someone didn't follow orders, and
then lied about it. The room was reported
to be free of monitoring devices more than two years ago. I remember
because I relayed the orders and received the
reports."

   "I won't kill anyone, but you won't have any trouble identifying the
guilty parties."

   "We have some stringent rules and nasty punishments for those types
of things, since we became independent. I
will see to the guilty persons being prosecuted."

   "In that case, Goodnight, Bob."

********************************************
In Lyta's room later that night:

   Lyta went into the bathroom and started running a hot bath. She had
reached out with her senses and trashed the
devices that were monitoring her. Whoever was in the control room must
be going nuts watching displays fail as
Lyta came into view and then start working when she was out of view. She
just knew they were probably
troubleshooting their hearts out.

   Lyta was about to go to sleep when she decided to learn who was doing
the monitoring. She relaxed and let her
senses expand outward. She felt the thoughts she was searching for in
only a minute. They originated from a room
in the basement of the building. She was surprised to find that they
belonged to the Assistant Head of Security for
Edgar's Industries, the same guy who was responsible for her to being
put in this room. The other thoughts
belonged to his trusted monitor operator. It only took a minute to fix
both men. She even took the time to destroy
the lock on the door to their room. They would have to call for help to
get out.  

********************************************

Public Relations Director's office 1000 hours the next day:

   "What can I do for you Miss Alexander?" Asked Phil Hodges, Public
Relations Director for Edgar's Industries.

   "Your young man put me into room 223 instead of 301, the one I stayed
in before. Was there any particular
reason?"

   "Not that I am aware of. I received a call from Marty Golf, our
Assistant Security Manager. He thought it would
be better to put you in the VIP Suite rather than one of our standard
rooms, since you were by definition a VIP."

   Lyta smiled, "I think he fibbed to you. I am anything but a VIP.
Mostly, I'm persona non-grata. Thank you for
your time."

   "I heard that he and one of his workers were found locked in a
basement room in less than stellar condition."

   "I hope they're okay," said Lyta with sincerity.

   "They're just embarrassed," laughed Hodges.

***************************************

In Bryson's office 1100 hours:

   Lyta walked down the aisle toward Bob Bryson's office. She noted that
there must be a hundred employees busy
in cubicles in  the large open work area. Lyta also noted that the woman
sitting at the desk located just outside Bryson's
office, obviously his secretary, was dressed in very loose fitting
clothing which hid any feminine features she might
have. Her hair was styled in a severe manner that almost made her look
like a man, except that there was no hair
on her face. Lyta wondered what she would look like in a decent dress
and a better hair style, but let the thought
fade away. She noticed that the name plate on the woman's desk indicated
her name was Mrs. Wiseman. [That's
odd. Most people would have their first name on the plate,] thought
Lyta.

   Beverly Wiseman, becoming aware of someone standing on the other side
of her desk, looked up into a pair of
dark eyes that looked like they were bottomless black pools, and noted
that the woman was dressed in a well-
tailored black outfit consisting of snug fitting trousers, shirt and
leather vest. Flawless smooth skin and flaming
copper-colored hair tied into a ponytail topped off her appearance.
Beverly would have sworn the woman was no
older than maybe late twenties, thirty tops.

   "May I be of assistance?" Asked Beverly.

   "I'm here to see Mister Bryson."

   "Do you have an appointment?" 

   "No, but he is expecting me. Please let him know Lyta Alexander is
here to see him."

  Beverly spoke into the phone mike she was wearing and a moment later
Bob Bryson opened his office door.
"Come on in Lyta. You're earlier than I expected."

As Lyta entered Bryson's office she felt very strong emotions from
Beverly Wiseman. She lowered her mental
barriers and 'listened' to the woman's thoughts and got a real surprise.

   She learned that Beverly had two children and that she thought Bryson
would be good husband and father
material. She also learned that the woman had given up any hope in that
area because Bryson never dated or went
out with anyone, man or woman. Lyta had met Bryson at Michael's over
dinner. Apparently that was the extent of
his social life. She wondered why. He was handsome by anyone's
standards, he was intelligent and didn't seem to
be the type to let the little things worry him. She decided to dig into
it when they were on Earth. While there, he would be a
captive subject.

   "Did you learn who was responsible for the monitoring of my room?"

   "Oh yes. We found them in the monitor room in the basement. I must
say you have a wicked sense of humor.
How long will it be until they regain control of their bladders and
bowels?"

   "A week or so. Was I too rough?"

   Laughing out loud, Bryson responded, "Not at all. It is most
appropriate. Now I have to find a new assistant
security manager."

   "You won't have to look very far."

   "Do you have someone in mind?

   "No. It is just a feeling."

   Lyta and Bryson spent most of the rest of the day going over travel
arrangements and methods that would yield
the best results for Lyta on her Earth tour. Lyta questioned a side trip
to a small town just outside San Francisco.
Bryson explained that was where the surprise Michael had mentioned was
located.

   "I will have the reservations remade using different names. I think
you are being too paranoid, but I do remember
the fiasco with the thunderbolts."

   "Just remember, it's not for my safety. It's for yours."

    As Lyta shook hands and said goodbye to Bryson, Beverly reassessed
her earlier estimate of her. She might look
like she was in her late twenties, but her poise and mannerisms, which
most men would miss, spoke of someone
very much older. At least forty, if a day, was Beverly's new estimate.
She wished she could carry her age as well,
but at thirty-five she looked at least thirty.

   "Envious, Mrs. Wiseman?"  Asked Bryson.

   "No Sir, not really," she replied.

   "For your information, she's about forty-five or so."

   Beverly never responded, she was too astonished.

***********************************
   Outside the Kennedy Spaceport in New York City:

   "It's been a while since I've been on Earth," noted Lyta.

   "How long is a while?"

   "Almost nine years. The last time I was here, I was a Psi Corps
prisoner. It doesn't bring back pleasant
memories."

   "Lets go get checked into our hotel. Then we have a number of people
to find and see."

   New York hadn't changed a bit since she had last been here, but then
she hadn't been here in a tourist capacity.
The buildings still formed concrete canyons, and there were still
crushing crowds moving along the sidewalks. She
wondered if they would ever find a way to reduce the traffic. For a city
that had a shortage of parking space, it
certainly had an abundance of vehicles.

   The building housing the hotel covered an entire city block, and
reached more than a hundred stories into the
gray sky. The top floors were hidden in a misty fog.

   "Mister Bowers, your room is ready. You and your wife can take
elevator number six. It is an express to the
fortieth floor, then becomes a local. The bellboy will show you the way
and see to your luggage. Enjoy your stay."

   Bryson paid off the bellboy and went into the luxurious bathroom. He
called to Lyta, "I don't know about you,
Dear, but I need a shower after the trip."

   [Dear?] Thought Lyta. Then she scanned for monitoring devices. The
suite was clean. "Take your time, but don't
use all the hot water."

   Ten minutes later Bryson came out of the bathroom. "It's all yours,
Sweetheart."  

   [Sweetheart? Dear?] "What's this with the sweetheart and dear thing,
Bob? And, why are we sharing a suite?"

   "No one will be looking for Lyta Alexander and a husband."

   "Don't get carried away with the portrayal."

   "Not a snowball's chance in hell." 

   Lyta opted for a bath followed by a rinse down shower. She didn't
realize that Bryson could see her as she put on
her clean underwear.

   "You should close bathroom doors, Lyta. I can see you."

   "Haven't you ever seen a woman put on her underwear before?"

   "Not in a very, very long time. Don't worry though, I'm not offended.
After all, you are easy on the eyes."

   Walking out of the bathroom, she said, "Just for that you can take me
to lunch, after we make our first contact."

**************************************************

   The building known as "The Empire State Building" had been built in
the early twentieth century, in just over
four hundred days. That it was still standing and being used bore
testament to the quality of materials and
workmanship that had gone into building it. The offices that Lyta and
Bob were looking for were located on the
fiftieth floor.

   Lyta and Bob walked up to a receptionist and asked to see James
Carollo. When asked if they had an
appointment, Lyta convinced the woman that they indeed had an
appointment. It took only a few minutes for them
to find Carollo's office. Lyta convinced the executive secretary that
they had an appointment with her boss and
took a seat to wait. Bryson took a seat on the side of the waiting area
opposite from Lyta. He noticed that she was
concentrating on something. When she got up and looked over the area
around the secretary's desk, Bryson began
to wonder.

   "I'm afraid I'll have to make another appointment with Mister
Carollo. I have another engagement that won't
wait," she said to the secretary, as she turned and started walking
away. Bryson hurried to catch up to her.

   "I thought you would need to actually get sight of him?"

   "Don't think or talk, Bob. Take me to lunch."

   They left the offices in silence.

************************************************

   The restaurant that Bryson had taken her to was one of the thousands
of little family places that abound in New
York. She was going to get to compare a different style of Italian
cooking to Garibaldi's.

   Lyta carefully inspected her surroundings. It was a small intimate
restaurant. The wall colors were somewhat
muted, giving the place an atmosphere of age. Close examination revealed
that the paintings on the wall were
painted using the fresco method. The aged appearance was from exposure
to tobacco smoke. The tables and booths
sported red and white checkerboard pattern tablecloths. Lyta felt the
table cloth and realized that it was real cotton
cloth, or at least one hell of a facsimile. What she could see of the
place was spotless.

   "Is this someplace special or what?"

   "I didn't just pick it out of the diners registry, Lyta. This place
is, believe it or not, owned and operated by one of
Michael's cousins. He swears by the food."

   "We'll learn soon enough if he is just blowing smoke."

   An older woman wearing an apron appeared next to their table ready to
take their order. "You wish to order
now?"

   "Yes ma'am," answered Lyta. "I'd like a glass of white wine now and
the house specialty."

   "Same for me ma'am," offered Bryson.

   "Do you want a particular wine or will the house wine do?"

   "Michael said your house wine is excellent. It will do just fine,"
replied Bryson.

   "You know cousin Michael?"

   Bryson smiled, "He's my boss."

   She looked at Lyta. 

   "Michael and I are old and dear friends," noted Lyta

   "The holy virgin knows he needs them. He leads a dangerous life,"
commented the lady, turning to go and
prepare their order.

   After the woman had walked away, Bryson asked, "We didn't even wait
long enough to see the guy."

   "I didn't need to. I picked a image of him from his secretary's mind
then I scanned his office. He was meeting
with one of his cohorts in crime. I did a scan on both of them and
learned some interesting tidbits of information.
I'll share them with you after we finish lunch. I don't want to spoil a
good meal."

   Forty minutes later they were standing outside the small restaurant.
Bryson noticed that Lyta had gotten a far
away look in her eyes.

*****************************************************************************

   In the Carollo Offices, James Corollo and his lieutenant were leaving
for lunch. They were passing his secretary's
desk as the phone rang. She called to him, "Mister Corollo. It is Gene
Taylor."

   He turned quickly, saying, "I'll take it  here." As he was turning,
he fell and struck his left temple on the sharp
corner of his secretary's desk. There was a sickening crunch as his head
made contact with the desk, and he fell
heavily on the carpeted floor. His body shuddered convulsively twice,
then he was still.

   His lieutenant hastened to feel for a pulse. There was none. "Better
call the coroner and police, Miss Dell. Mister
Corollo is dead."
 
********************************************************************************

Back in front of the restaurant:

   After almost two minutes Bryson asked "Are you alright, Lyta?"

   Realizing he was addressing her, she replied, "I'm just fine. I had
something in mind that I had to resolve."

   Bryson hailed a taxi.

  They managed to visit four more offices before the afternoon turned
into evening.

   At supper, Bryson asked, "We never even got to see one of the people
on your list."

   "I saw them. I got what I needed."

   "You aren't going to tell me what is really going on, are you?"

   "You can't repeat what you don't know, nor can a telepathic scan
discover it either."

   He hated to admit she had a valid point. He just didn't like being
kept in the dark.

********************************************************************************

   Bryson had finished his shower and was lying on his bed watching the
news channel. Lyta was enjoying a hot bath. As he watched the news,
Bryson's attention was caught by a report of a fatal accident that was
reported as a bit
bizarre. When he realized what it was about he said, "record present
story for playback." The recorder in the video unit recorded the story.

   He watched the remainder of the newscast then switched the channel.
He pondered what he had just learned and
wondered how she had done it. If the reporter was correct, the guy had
bought it at the same time they were
standing in front of the Italian restaurant.

   Fifteen minutes later Lyta, wearing pajamas, exited the bathroom.

   Bryson said, "I recorded a news story. I think you will find it
interesting."

   Sitting down on her bed and continuing to towel her hair, she
replied, "Play it back."

   As the story was replayed, Lyta said, "I'll be damned. I can think of
a lot of ways to check out, but tripping on my shoelaces isn't one that
comes to mind."

   "Did you have anything to do with it?"

   "Bob, we were on the other side of the city when that happened. I may
be a really strong telepath, but that is a bit
out of my league."

   "I remember how we got here the last time I traveled with you. I
don't think something like that would even
begin to make you break a sweat. You phased out on me for almost two
minutes while we were standing in front of
the restaurant."

   "Believe what you will. Even if I had done it, I'd like to see
someone try and prove it."

   Bryson looked carefully at Lyta and realized that she was even
scarier than he had first thought. He wondered if
Michael even had a clue. Odds were he didn't.

   "You would be wrong, Bob. Michael has a very good idea," noted Lyta.

   "I don't appreciate being scanned," he said testily.

   "I didn't scan you. Your thoughts were so strong, I could hear them
through my blocks. If you wonder how, it's
simple. I lower my blocks to check for danger. What isn't commonly known
is that a telepath doesn't have to do an
active scan to hear someone's thoughts. And since we are alone, I don't
even have to try and sort them out."

   "You scare the hell out of me, Lyta."

   "Why? Are you planning to kill me or worse? You have nothing to fear
from me, Bob. I've been listening to your
thoughts ever since I first met you. You are a decent sort of man.
Dedicated and trustworthy, maybe to a fault. One
thing that puzzles me though, is why you don't have a social life?
Having a dinner with the boss doesn't count."

   "It is a personal matter, Lyta. I don't want to talk about it."

   Lyta was listening to his thoughts and feeling his emotions. Bryson
was in a lot of pain. Just talking about the
idea of a social life had elicited an intensely painful reaction in his
mind.

   "I may be able to help you, Bob, if you'll let me."

   "I don't see how. What do you know about death, Lyta. Huh? Have you
ever seen someone one minute and the
next find yourself looking at what appears to be red jam with crushed
flesh and bones imbedded in it?"

   "I am very familiar with death in forms that would make a buzzard
puke up last weeks meals. Do you want me to
show you?"

   That statement got Bryson's undivided attention. Lyta looked at him
and closed her eyes.

   Bob Bryson's vision shifted. He was no longer in their hotel room. He
was standing inside a life support equipped room. He didn't know where
it was, but the smell left no doubt about it being in a hospital. There
was a young man, in what he recognized as a ranger uniform, lying on the
bed. As he watched, the scene shifted, and the young man was standing
beside the bed looking down at himself. Lyta was standing on the other
side of the bed. She was waiting for something from the young ranger. He
began to tell her about people needing help. As he spoke, Bryson became
aware of a doorway that hadn't existed a moment before opening behind
the ranger. As the ranger talked he moved toward the doorway. In a few
moments he stepped into the doorway and was drawn into it. The doorway
slammed shut, and Bryson became aware of the hotel room again.

   "What in God's name was that?" He asked, shivering uncontrollably.

   "You asked me what I knew about death. What you saw was my experience
of being in that young ranger's mind
when he died. Don't ask me about the door or anything else. I can only
explain it as being how our minds perceive
death."

   "How many more of these little bone jarring memories do you have?"

   "More than you can possibly imagine. Let me help you? Please?"

   "Let me think about it?"

   As you wish.

***************************************************************

   It was 0100 when Lyta became aware of a whimpering sound coming from
Bryson's bed. She wouldn't have
noticed it if she hadn't had her senses on alert for danger. Since they
were going to be in New York for at least four
days, anyone wanting to attempt a hit on her would have a stationary
target. She listened to the whimpering for
almost a minute before she decided to examine its cause. Bryson would
never know what she was going to do.

   Lyta gently touched Bryson's mind. The pain there almost made her
recoil. Steeling herself, she began to look at
what his mind was doing. It became obvious that he was having a terrible
nightmare. She kept sifting around until
she could get a grip on the images. 

   Bryson's subconscious had him in the grip of something that was
extremely painful. Lyta found herself looking at
a very vivid and detailed image of what must have once been a human
being or maybe more than one human.
What she was looking at was more like red jelly with pieces of bones
protruding from the mess. It would take DNA
testing to ever determine who it had been. She saw Bryson off to one
side crying and choking as he vomited up
everything in his stomach. He was completely emotionally shattered. Lyta
assumed that the red mess must have
meant something to him, but she had no idea what. She decided to
experience the nightmare with him and see
what she could learn from it. It was not an experience she looked
forward to with anticipation. 

   The scene changed. She was in a morgue. It was filled with broken
bodies of men, women and children, military
and civilian. She still didn't know what she was watching, but she was
becoming engrossed in what was
transpiring.

   Bryson was addressing an older woman in a laboratory smock, "Are you
sure?"

   "I am sorry sir, there is no doubt. It is, or was, your wife and
son."

   Bryson broke down and began crying. The woman led him out of the
morgue to an area filled with other people,
either sobbing or in too much shock to appreciate their situation.

   Lyta was thinking that she had seen some of this somewhere before,
but she couldn't immediately recall where.

   As the dream continued, a man, apparently a friend of Bryson's, met
him coming out of the morgue building.

   "Bob, it's all over the news. The resistance is claiming credit for
the blast. Why would they kill a bunch of
civilians?"

   "Say that again, Sammy," said Bob through what was left of his tears.

   "The resistance is claiming responsibility for the blast. They claim
the earthforce personnel killed were
transporting explosives, and that is why it did so much damage."

   Sammy didn't know that his friend was involved in the resistance. The
thought that his comrades had killed so
many innocent people, including his wife and son, sickened Bob. It made
him resolve to hunt those responsible. He
didn't sign on to kill innocent women and children.

   Sammy had steered his friend to a small bar and ordered drinks for
both of them. The video unit in the bar was
tuned to the news channel. The news item about the explosion was being
run repeatedly. Bob drank his beer and
watched the video unit with detached interest. Inside he was screaming
as his anguish eat at his mental reasoning
ability.

   Lyta remembered the explosion in question. She had seen references to
it in the carefully kept Psi Corps records
they had captured during the telepath war.   

   She knew most of what she needed to know. One more night of listening
to Bob's thoughts and nightmares would
probably be all she needed to form a plan of action. She knew it would
be difficult, but she could see that if she
didn't do it, one day in the very near future, Bob Bryson would put a
gun in his mouth and end his pain. She
wouldn't allow that.

****************************************

   Bryson heard the alarm clock and opened his eyes. He was reaching to
turn it off when he realized he didn't have
one with him.

   "Are you going to eat breakfast?"

   "Lyta," he said sleepily, "You're already up."

   "Up, dressed and ready to go get something to eat. Unlike you, I
don't sleep all morning."

   Bleary eyed he swung his legs over the edge of his bed and rubbed his
eyes. "What time is it, anyway?"

   "0600, old sleepy one. Some of us do sleep at night."

   "0600! Normal people don't get up this early."

   "In the first place, I'm not normal. And... in the second, I'm
probably not a people, either."

   "Heading toward the bathroom, he said, "Let me shave and wash the
sleep out of my eyes. Speaking of sleep,
how did you fare last night?"

   "I slept like a baby. Is there any reason I shouldn't have?"

   "No. I tossed and turned all night. The sleep I get doesn't seem to
do me much good. I think that's why I have
such a hard time getting started in the morning."

   "Bob, some people just aren't early risers, no matter how much sleep
they get."

*****************************************************************************

   They had already been to three offices and not seen any of the people
on their list, but Lyta wasn't discouraged.
At the fourth stop they were standing at the executive secretary's desk
when the objective of their quest opened his
office door and stepped into view. When he saw Lyta he almost had a
heart attack.

   "Mister Shaw. I am Lyta Alexander. I tried to make an appointment,
but your secretary wouldn't make one for
me." 

   The man looked at his employer, after giving Lyta a look that could
kill, and said, "Mister Shaw, she wouldn't
state her business."

   "Don't worry, Mark. It's okay. I know Miss Alexander. Won't you
please come in?"

   Lyta and Bob followed Shaw into his office.

   "You seemed taken aback by my appearance, Mister Shaw. Guilty
conscience?" Asked Lyta.

   "Of course not. What should I feel guilty about?" Asked Shaw in
reply.

   After they were seated Lyta cut to the chase, "I know you were
involved in the attempt on my life on Babylon 5. I
also know that you were peripherally involved in the attempt on both
G'Kar's and my lives on the Drazi
homeworld. You have been involved with financing several other attempts.
I could go on, but you get the general
idea."

   "I don't know what you are talking about, Miss Alexander, but if
accusations are all you are here for, you are
wasting my time," replied Shaw.

   Lyta smiled an icy smile. "It won't be a waste of time, Mister Shaw,
believe me. You are a fountain of
knowledge. After you give me what I want, I will be happy to leave."

   Shaw reached for the signal button that would summon his security
men.

   "Mustn't do that, Mister Shaw," said Lyta, immobilizing his arm. She
then proceeded to scan him. It only took a
few minutes to gain a veritable treasure trove of incriminating
information.

   Lyta and Bob left Shaw's office less than ten minutes after they
entered. Inside Shaw was considering the
business offer he remembered Lyta making. He regretted he couldn't make
the requested investment. It was all he
would remember of her visit.

   In the deserted elevator, Bob asked, "When are you going to tell me
what you are learning? And, what was that
about him having a heart condition?"

   Lyta looked at Bob, but did not offer any answers to his questions.
When they were out on the street again and
walking away from the building they had just exited, Lyta observed, "For
someone who is supposed to be head of a
covert operations, you surely don't seem to know when to keep your mouth
shut."

   "You haven't told me anything since we started this little project. I
need to have some idea what is going on."

   "I have already explained that I won't give you information that
could be detrimental to my plans, and that's all
there is to it. Tonight, I'll make you privy to things you can use to
yours and Michael's advantage. For your
information, Shaw has an existing heart condition. He has had a minor
heart attack, and last fall he had triple
bypass surgery. If he croaks from a massive heart attack, it will be no
surprise to anyone."

   "Is that what all this is about, killing a bunch of people?"

   "No. The only ones getting the extreme prejudice treatment are those
directly involved with the attempts on my
and G'Kar's lives or dealing with those who would have caused the
destruction of Earth. All the rest are yours. I'll
provide all the information you will need to get investigations started
and stuff like that. The vast majority of the
people on our list fall into that last category. Do you have a problem
with my dealing with those who tried to have
me killed?"

   "It's cold, Lyta. It's murder. I don't see how you can do it?"

   "Tonight I will show you things that will help you deal with your
squeamishness. You need a good dose of
reality... interstellar style."

   "Can we get something to eat?"

   "Lead on. I can eat just about anything."

*****************************************************

   That evening after supper, Lyta had Bob relax on his bed after they
had bathed and gotten into their bed-clothes. Just before she started,
Bob tuned to ISN for his news fix.

   "It has been learned that the Arkland family has formally filed suit
against General Susan Ivanova-Wayne. As
has been shown earlier in these videos, The Arklands' son was badly
beaten by the General in a hand-to-hand
combat match. The suit alleges that the match was a setup by General
Ivanova in frustration at the young man's
objections to the attack she initiated on a supposedly Drakh space
station. The suit is asking for ten billion credits
for damage both physical and mental suffered by the family and son. We
will continue to cover this as the situation
develops."

   Lyta and Bob had watched the piece with interest. "Your friend can
really kick ass, Lyta.

   "As long as I've known her, Susan has been able to hold her own in a
fight. I wonder why she didn't just kill him
and be done with it. It would have been much simpler in the long run."

   "Jesus Christ, Lyta. Don't you have any respect for life?"

   "Believe it or not, I probably have more respect for it than you do.
In a short while, you will learn exactly what I
mean."

   "That sounds scary."

    "Don't worry. You'll be just fine."

   Lyta planted the thought in his mind, and Bob began to drift off to
sleep. Within fifteen minutes he was sound
asleep. Lyta began her lessons. Carefully she led Bob through the real
history of Psi Corps and its doings. Before
she quit this indoctrination, she had led him through her knowledge of
the Vorlons, Shadows, Drakh, Clark's
government and a montage of the EA and IA politics and the results of
the same. After finishing this, she let him
drift even deeper into sleep. When he started having his nightmare she
was there waiting to see it as he
experienced it.

*************************************

   Bob awoke to the sound of an alarm clock in his head. "I wish you
wouldn't do that, Lyta."

   "Think of it as service with a smile. It's time to go get breakfast."

   Fifteen minutes later they were on their way to breakfast.

   Through a mouthful of pancake, Bob managed to mumble, "I remember
what you showed me last night. You
aren't so scary now. I have trouble believing even a tenth of what I
saw."

   "Believe all of it. The Vorlons would have destroyed the Earth, Mars
and everything living thing in the solar
system."

   "And... you worked for these beings?"

   "Yes. Until I learned what they were really all about."

   "It is hard to believe. Give me some time."

   "Now, do you understand why I act as I do toward Shaw and those like
him?"

   Bryson just nodded his head in acknowledgment.

   They had finished breakfast and were enjoying a cafe latte when Lyta
said, "We are behind where I wanted to be, Bob. Let's get a move on."

**************************************************************
   END PART 27

From: "Aubrey W. Adkins" <xazqrten@home.com>
Subject: Adventures of Lyta After G'Kar Part 28 of ---(WIP)
Date: Tue, 11 Apr 2000 15:41:55 -0400

Adventures of Lyta After G'Kar Part 28 of ---(WIP)
 
   Criticism is welcomed. Without, it there can't be any
improvement. Address criticisms to [xazqrten@home.com]

Think of this as a space opera.

          All characters/places/persons not belonging to the writer are
the sole properties of their owners, PTEN, WB, JMS, and will be
turned over to the owners at the request of their agents.  All other
characters/places/persons are public domain.

Rated PG-10 (Vocabulary)

"..." = spoken words
<...> = telepathic speech
[...] = one's own thoughts, internal
(...) = to set off items such as acronyms immediately identified by the
phrase they stand for.
'...' = to set off odd items???
{...} = italics.

******************************************************************************

   That evening Lyta gave Bob another lesson. This one was about what
she had learned from the people they had visited that day. Later that
night she started on her program to help Bob deal with his recurring
nightmare.
   
   Lyta's approach to helping Bob get over his depression and guilt was
relatively simple. She entered his mind and made each dream about the
deaths of his wife and child a bit fuzzier. At the same time she reached
into his fondest
memories of his family and, slowly, but surely, accented them in his
mind. She also found the memories he had of him and her agreeing to not
stop living if the other died. The agreement to continue their life
while remembering the dead spouse was brought sharply into focus. Within
a week he was sleeping soundly throughout the night without the
nightmares. Bob wasn't even aware of what she had done. Since he slept
soundly, he didn't remember if he dreamed or had nightmares. Lyta was
very pleased at what she had accomplished, even if she didn't have his
permission. She wished she could be in his office and see how his
department personnel responded to the new and improved Robert Bryson,
that is if they even noticed. After all, Bob wasn't the kind of boss
that most people even thought about, if they could avoid it. He wasn't
exactly mister warm and fuzzy.

  They visited Boston, Chicago, Philadelphia, Atlanta and at least a
half dozen other cities on both coasts. Lyta's actions were the same in
each instance. All she wanted to do was get close enough to verify she
had a good scan on each of the people on their list. Their list had
grown somewhat as she continued scanning those she had on her original
'hit' list. It was just as they were finishing their rounds in Los
Angeles that Bryson reminded her of Garibaldi's surprise.

They were finishing a late lunch at a nice restaurant.

  "This is good pasta, Bob, but not quite in the same class as
Michael's," commented Lyta.

  "It'll do for the time being. I want to discuss Mike's surprise for
you."

  "I was hoping you had forgotten about that."

  "Not a chance. Mike would make a lampshade out of my hide if I let
this slip past."

  "What do you want me to do?"

  "I simply want you to meet some people, nothing more. It's an hour
drive to the address."

  "I'm not going to like this, am I?"

  "I don't know."

*****************************************

Early evening a hundred kilometers somewhere outside downtown Los
Angeles:

   "Admit it, Bob. You're lost," commented Lyta.

   Bob pulled over to the curb and once again referred to his map. "I
see the problem, Lyta. This map doesn't have this area on it."

   "Ha! I'd never have guessed," she sneered in humor.

   Bob stuck his tongue out at her, and then proceeded to the nearest
supermarket.

   "We don't need groceries, Bob," chided Lyta.

   After getting out of the vehicle, he turned, leaned into the driver's
window, and replied, "For your information Miss Smarty Pants, they sell
maps in stores like these." Then he headed for the store entrance.

   Lyta listened to the radio for about five minutes before closing her
eyes. She had just relaxed when the driver's door opened.

   "I got the right map this time. From the looks of it, we've been
within three kilometers of the house the whole time," explained Bob.

   Lyta waved her hand and said, "Onward, Jeeves."

   Less than ten minutes later Bob parked at the curb across the street
from the house they were seeking. "It's your show from here on, Lyta.
Mike says the best records he could find indicate that the people who
live in that house are your family, or at least one of them is your
mother."

   "I was only three years old when the Psi Corps took me from my
mother. The fact that she was a telepath wasn't even a consideration. I
haven't seen my mother in more than forty years. I won't know her, much
less any siblings I
might have."

   "Just give it your best shot, Lyta. They won't bite you."

   Lyta crossed the street and walked up on the porch of the house. It
was a single floor building with a Spanish trim. She knocked on the door
and waited. She felt trepidation, and chastised herself for being
nervous, after all she had faced down Shadow battle cruisers and a Drakh
attack. The door opened and a young man appearing to be about twenty
years of age opened the door.

   The young man whistled before he caught himself. "I'm sorry, Ma'am,
but you are a knockout. What can I do for you?"

   Lyta smiled at him, amused at his reaction to her. "Is this the
Potter house? I need to speak to your grandmother."

   "Yes Ma'am it is. My grandmother is dead," replied the young man.

   "Who is it, Carl?" Asked a woman's voice from the back area of the
house.

   "My name is Lyta Alexander," offered Lyta.

   "She says her name is Lyta Alexander, and I think she may be here to
see you, mom," responded Carl.

   Lyta could see what looked like a real family resemblance in Carl.
Her doubts were erased when two women came into the front room, one
about thirty and the other obviously in her middle to late sixties. The
younger woman looked like a reproduction of Lyta herself, and the other
one was an older version of the younger one.

   The shock she saw on the older woman's face erased any doubt
remaining in Lyta's mind about this being her mother, but she kept her
expression neutral. 

   "What did she say her name is?" Asked the older woman.

   "Lyta Alexander," replied Carl.

   Lyta lowered her mental barriers far enough to hear Bryson's thoughts
and then consciously tuned him out. She could 'hear' the thoughts of
Carl, his sister, his mother and one other, an old man somewhere in the
back part of
the house.

   "Who is it, Hon?" Inquired an old male voice from a back room. The
way it increased as he talked it was evident he was coming toward the
front of the house.

   The old man entered the front room as his wife answered, "She says
her name is Lyta Alexander. I don't know anyone by that name. Do you?"

   Following his wife's lead he replied, "Not that I can recall." The
shock on his face when he saw Lyta reinforced her belief that these were
indeed her parents. In her mind she was puzzled, they obviously
recognized her, but they
refused to acknowledge her. It occurred to her that they might simply
know her from her picture being prominently displayed on the various
networks and in the newspapers during the {Telepath War}. She wondered
if what she saw on their faces was fear. Her lowered mental barriers
allowed her to hear their unguarded thoughts, and what she got from them
wasn't fear, but total confusion. They simply didn't know how to handle
the situation. The young man and woman had apparently been unaware that
they had an older sister.

   "A friend of mine has access to some old records, and he apparently
thought he had found some reference to my parents in them. I'm sorry to
have invaded your privacy," said Lyta in a neutral tone.

   "When did you last see your parents?" Asked Carl.

   "I was taken from them when I was about three years old," replied
Lyta. "It was more than forty years ago."

   "Carl, ask her to come in," said his sister.

   "I really can't," replied Lyta. "I have someone waiting in the car
for me. I told my friend this was a wild goose chase, but I had to humor
him."

   By this time the older woman had walked up behind her son and got a
really close look at Lyta. [My God, it's her,] she thought, [It's her.]
The woman managed to keep the emotion off her face, but Lyta had 'heard'
the thought.

   Lyta handed Carl a business card saying, "I really am sorry to have
bothered you. If you ever need to contact me for any reason, the address
on the card will get a message to me." Lyta turned and walked down the
walkway and across the street.

   "Well, Lyta. How did it go?" Asked Bryson.

   "It was a bust, Bob. I don't know them," replied Lyta.

   Bryson looked at her intensely, before realizing Lyta could lie with
the straightest face of anyone he had ever met. The records had been
intact and there couldn't have been any mistake. "So much for surprises,
huh?" 

   "The surprise is that you and Michael were wrong."

   "Now I know why you don't like surprises. That must have been very
embarrassing."

   "Yes it was. Now, let's forget it. We still have a lot of work to
do."

*************************************

In the Potter house just after Lyta and Bob pulled away from the curb:

  "Mom, was that woman my sister?" Asked Carl.

  Looking in the mirror, His sister, Lynn said, "She almost looked
enough like me to be my twin." Then she asked, "What gives, Mom?"

  "Nothing gives. It is only a coincidence that she resembles you,
Lynn," replied Carl's mother.

  "Hon, that's not true. You owe them an explanation. I'd like to know
why you denied her, too?" inquired her husband.

  "Like she said, it was more than forty years ago. She started to
display telepathic abilities even before her second birthday. Your
father and I were commercial telepaths at the time. The corps took
children from their parents at
the first sign of telepathic ability. We managed to keep her from being
found out until just before her third birthday. When the corps took them
that young they were immediately separated from their parents and never
allowed contact with them again. Lyta was only a P-5, but since she
manifested her abilities so early, she was extremely stable. The earlier
a child manifests his or her abilities the more stable they seem to be.
The corps never learned why, but it
was a fact of life in almost all cases. Not having a family around to
interfere with the child's development also made it easier for the corps
to completely indoctrinate the child into "The Corps is Mother, The
Corps is Father" mode of thinking. We never saw Lyta again. After they
took her, we were immediately transferred off planet to the Regel Mining
Colony. Five years later we were transferred to Proxima III. By the time
we got back to earth Lyta was a teen-ager and off planet on training
missions. Until the {Telepath War} we never even knew if she was alive
or dead. Over the years you and Lynn were born, and we simply forgot
about Lyta. I suppose there isn't much doubt now," explained their
mother.

   "Why didn't you ask her in?" Asked Lynn.

   "I couldn't. I don't know how to explain to her that we never had a
choice about the corps taking her," replied her mother. "I'm afraid she
wouldn't believe there wasn't anything your father and I could have done
about it."

   "She was responsible for the Corps downfall. I think she would have
believed you," said Lynn.

   "Why is her name Alexander instead of Potter?" Asked Carl.

   "When they took a child that young they always used the mother's
maiden name. It was a way of keeping the lineage straight, and at the
same time erasing the child's family association," answered his mother.
"As for as her believing me, it's a moot point. She's gone."
   
*******************************************

On a San Francisco street:

   They were standing at an intersection on Market Street watching the
people go by. 

   "How long until we're finished here?" Asked Bob.

   "Tomorrow will be all I need. This morning went so well, I think we
can take the afternoon off."

   "Now we really become sightseers."

   "Only for this afternoon."

   Lyta and Bob were standing shoulder to shoulder on the curb. There
was a man standing just off the curb in front of Lyta. Lyta felt someone
jostle her right shoulder, and heard someone say, "Please excuse me." It
was a woman of about thirty holding a girl of about five or six years of
age in her left arm. 

   Lyta looked at the youngster and smiled. Then she felt an impact in
right side of her back like a runaway truck. The impact threw her
forward as the head of the man in front of her exploded showering those
around him  with blood, brains and gore. Bryson pitched forward and
landed face down in the street, blood oozing from a hole in his back. At
the same time the young girl was knocked from her mother's arms and
landed heavily on the pavement beside the man whose head had been blown
apart. Lyta realized what had happened as she saw blood and gore on the
front of her blouse, her own blood. The pain she had felt was gone. Her
Vorlon and Lorien alterations were already instinctively governing her
perceptions and actions.

  Onlookers and other fellow citizens in the street were stunned at the
situation and afterward none would be able to give a coherent accounting
of events. In Lyta's mind time stopped. It was as if everyone and
everything around
her was being held in stasis. She wouldn't learn this until much later
watching events that were being captured and recorded by the many
monitor cameras that were installed on most San Francisco streets, like
they were in all the world's large cities.

  In an instant Lyta reached out and seized the mind of the shooter. He
was a petty criminal in the process of robbing a liquor store and he was
armed with a stolen military assault rifle. The store owner had tried to
shoot it out with him, and had been seriously wounded for his efforts.
Some of the criminal's return fire had hit Lyta, the man standing in
front of her, Bob, the woman standing on her right side and the woman's
child. In the next instant, Lyta taking control of the shooter's mind,
froze his muscles to prevent him from firing anymore. At the same time
she reduced his brain to the consistency of ground beef. The autopsy
that would performed on him later would puzzle the hell out of the
medical examiner.

   Lyta realized that she could do nothing for the man who had been shot
in the head. The girl's mother and the shop owner were not seriously
hurt. Bob and the little girl on the other hand were mortally wounded.
The jacketed slugs had damaged Bob's spine and just missed destroying
his heart, he could not breathe on his own, so a part  of Lyta's
non-human mind reached into his chest and kept his diaphragm moving to
allow him to breathe. The little girl had taken the bullet that had
wounded her mother's arm through her right side ribs. It had passed
through her chest and exited through the ribs on her left side damaging
her heart along the way. It would be a real mess, but she could still
save Bob and the little girl. Explaining why they weren't dead would be
a problem, but she would deal with it later.

********************************************************************************

   It was a beautiful spring day and the little girl was having the time
of her life. Sitting on the grass beside her was a man, wearing large
boxing gloves, who seemed preoccupied with watching her play. "It is a
beautiful place, Isn't
it?" Asked a soothing female voice from somewhere behind the man.

   He turned and saw a beautiful redhead watching both him and the
little girl. "Lyta. Where are we? I don't remember ever being here
before, replied the man, and what's with these boxing gloves?

   "You haven't, Bob, I'll explain them in a minute. Do you know the
little girl's name? replied Lyta.

   "I think she's called Nancy," answered Bob.

   The youngster turned and smiled at them. "My name is Nancy."

   "Do you know why you are here, Nancy?"

   The girl looked confused and shook her head no.

   "Nancy, you and my friend Bob have been hurt very badly. I need your
help to fix it back the way it was."

   As Lyta talked Nancy turned to face a door that had appeared nearby
and was opening up. Nancy began to move toward the door. Bob could only
watch, helplessly. When he had tried to move, he found that he couldn't.
He recognized the door from the experience that Lyta had shared with him
earlier in the course of their trip. 

   Lyta quickly walked between Nancy and the door. Squatting down in
front of the youngster she looked her in the eyes and said, "I need for
you to help me, Nancy. Please, it is very important."

   Nancy tried to pull loose from Lyta and go toward the door. Bob
realized he was watching something that probably no other human had ever
seen, a fight between life and death. 

   Lyta stood up, picking Nancy up as she did, and walked away from the
door. Bryson watched amazed as the door began to get smaller until it
vanished from sight. As he watched Lyta sat down with Nancy on the grass
a short distance away, beside a basket he hadn't noticed before. 

   Lyta put Nancy down and opened the basket. She took out what looked
like a ragged and torn doll and what was on closer scrutiny sewing
materials. Carefully she helped Nancy thread one of the needles and
showed her how to sew a few stitches. "I need for you to sew up these
tears, Nancy. If you do it well we can go to your mommy and get some ice
cream. Would you like that?"

   Nancy started crying, "I not know how."

   Carefully and with great patience, Lyta carefully guided the little
girl's fingers and hands in sewing a couple of stitches. "Now you try 
it, Nancy." To her credit, Nancy tried her best, but her youthful
fingers had trouble with
close work the stitching required.

   It took at least an hour, but slowly but surely the little girl's
stitching was improving. Lyta looked over to one side and saw the door
beginning to reappear. "Nancy, we must work more quickly."

   The girl tried to get up, but Lyta restrained her. She was beginning
to fight against Lyta's grip. However, she was no match for Lyta's adult
strength. "You must finish repairing the doll, Nancy. If you finish the
doll, I will let you
go through the door. Will that be okay?" The girl nodded okay and began
to work on the doll in earnest. 

   Bryson was trying to make sense of what he was seeing, but he no
longer even had a clue. As he watched the girl continue repairing the
doll, he noticed that the door slowly became noticeably smaller and
farther away. He felt an attraction for the door. When asked later, he
would be unable to describe the feelings he was having. 

   Lyta looked over at him and said, "Fight the feelings, Bob. I will
help as much as I can, but it must be your fight." He didn't understand,
but kept quiet. Whatever Lyta was doing he didn't want to be a
distraction.

   It was a couple of hours later and Nancy was finished with the doll.
Lyta looked at the child's handiwork and commented, "It is very good
work, Nancy."

   Nancy looked around, but the door was gone. She asked, "Where is
door?"

   Lyta looked at her and smiled. "It's not time for you to go through
the door, Sweetheart. It's time to go back to your mommy. It is going to
hurt very much, but you will be okay." 

   Bryson watched the girl fade from view. "What in hell is going on,
Lyta?"

   Lyta picked up the basket and approached Bob. "Now it's your turn.
Here is where we learn just what you are made of." She pulled two long
pieces of silk string out of the basket.

   "What are those for?" Asked Bob.

   "You have to tie these together in a knot, Bob. It's how you are
going to help me."

   "You want me to tie a knot in them while wearing these boxing gloves?
Are you nuts?"

   "No, and you're the one who chose the boxing gloves. Now be a good
boy and tie them in a knot. You don't have all day," she said and
pointed to a door that was opening as it approached them.

   "Is that what I think it is?"

   "Yes. Now you know just how important tying this knot is. I suggest
you get busy."

   Bob began by trying to pick up the pieces of string from where Lyta
had dropped them. Hours later he was still fumbling with the string and
the door was much closer and nearer to being wide open. He could feel
the pull emanating. from the door, but was confused by his total lack of
fear. He worked more carefully and had a good loop in the string. With
tears in his eyes he managed a second loop and pulled on the ends to see
if it would hold. He noticed that the more he pulled the farther away
the door became. It was even beginning to close. 

   He looked up to see Lyta smiling down at him. It was then he noticed
that there was a very large bloodstain on her blouse, directly between
her breasts, but before he could say anything, she said, "Not bad, Bob.
It's time for you
to leave here. It's going to be very painful. I will help as much as I
can."

   As Lyta faded from his view, the surrounding park area grew darker
until it was gone. 
*************************************************

   Lyta had done as much as she could under the circumstances without
drawing undue attention to herself. Knowing that there were video
monitor cameras located at numerous places over the streets gave her
reason for concern. Someone was going to want to know how in hell she
managed to survive a bullet passing through her chest and walk away as
if nothing happened. She kept her head down to make it difficult for the
monitors to get a good view of her face.

   Bryson was moaning into the pavement and coughing up blood. Lyta had
coughed blood up through her nose all over the front of her clothes
before her enhancements had taken control and stopped it. The little
girl was making
little mewling noises as the pain engulfed her. The bleeding from the
bullet wounds in her sides had stopped. She could hear the scream of the
emergency vehicle sirens and they were very near. She tried to comfort
Bryson as she
put torn tissues in his chest back together. She had repaired enough of
the nerve damage to his spinal cord to permit him to breathe on his own.
It was going to be a real task to repair the remainder of the damage.
Fortunately
the little girl's injuries were restricted to broken bones, torn muscles
and tissue and internal bleeding. She had not suffered any nerve damage.
The nerve damage to Bob's spinal cord was massive. She could fix it, but
it would take
some time. She had a plan.

   When the medics arrived, Lyta stood up, gave them information about
Bob's identity and that he had no family. She listed herself as contact
for him and moved away a few meters.

   "He's breathing and has a pulse. Get the board under him and secure
it. It looks like the bullet might have hit his spine. Damn it! Be
careful! If he lives, we don't want to make a cripple out of him."
Bryson heard the voice and
wondered where he was. He could taste dirt, grease and God knew what
else. He realized he was face down in the street and it was that that he
was tasting.

   The medics wasted no time getting Bryson and the little girl, her
mother and the shop owner into ambulances and on their way to the
nearest hospital. Lyta melted into the crowd using her abilities to make
people around her ignore her presence, after all, under normal
circumstances people would question someone with blood all over the
front and back of her clothes.
**********************************

   Lyta looked at her image in the mirror in  the clothing store. She
had bought replacements for her damaged clothing and was ready to pay
for them. As she left the store she erased any memory of the bloody
clothing from the minds of the store personnel and customers.

   It took her twenty minutes to get to the hospital and find where they
had taken Bryson. The staff had been unusually friendly and helpful,
thanks to Lyta's mental efforts.

   Lyta went to admissions and took care of the necessary red tape
including guaranteeing his treatment expenses. Slightly less than an
hour after the shooting she learned that Bryson was still in surgery.
She spent the next two hours making calls as she waited for him to be
put in a recovery room.

************************************

   In emergency room six the nurses and paramedics had just put Nancy on
an examining table. The attending physician cut off her shirt and
quickly examined her wounds. He ordered complete three-dimensional scans
of her body above her waist. The scanner was wheeled out and over
Nancy's moaning form. The images appeared on a large monitor attached to
room ceiling and suspended just over two meters above the floor. 

   "What in the name of Zeus do we have here?" Asked the puzzled doctor.

   On the monitor the entrance and exit wounds could be seen. Bone
splinters were distributed throughout the chest cavity along the path
the bullet had to have taken.

   "There should be massive damage to her internal organs. Her heart
should be destroyed. What is she doing still alive?" Demanded the
totally confused doctor.

   The nurses and other emergency room personnel were looking at the
display with mouths agape. No one offered and answer.

   One of the paramedics that hadn't left yet noted, "You seem to be
pissed that she's not dead, Doc. What is your problem?"

   "I'm not pissed. I am confused. I don't understand how she even lived
long enough for you to arrive on the scene, much less until you got her
here.

   "Do another scan," ordered the doctor. "What the hell is going on
here?" He demanded.

   The new scan showed even fewer bone fragments along the bullets most
likely path and the larger fragments were now smaller in size. It looked
like the bone fragments were being reabsorbed by the girl's body
tissues. The scan showed that new bone was being regenerated to replace
that destroyed by the bullet.

   "Nurse, keep these scan files. I don't know what is going on here,
but I intend to find out. From what I can see, she is going to be just
fine, even without our help," commented the doctor.

   "We have her mother in room five, Doctor. She was shot through the
upper arm and the bone is broken," said a second nurse.

   "Keep doing scans on this one. I want one every two minutes. I want
good documentation of this phenomenon, whatever it is," said the doctor
as he headed for emergency room five.

   Entering room five the doctor observed a woman of about thirty or so
lying on the examination table. She was in great pain. An examination of
her left upper arm confirmed that the bone had been smashed by the
bullet that had hit it. However, her arm looked like it should after
such an injury. Whatever was at work on the daughter, it wasn't
affecting the mother. After further examination of the woman's wound,
the doctor became convinced that the bullet
that passed through her upper arm and through her daughter's chest was
probably deformed and tumbling when it hit the little girl. He was
completely baffled how anyone could survive the injuries the girl had to
have sustained for even one minute, much less the almost hour between
the time of the injuries and the time he examined her. When he watched
the evening news and saw tapes of the incident, he would be even more
confused.

************************************

   Having slipped into a linen closet and changed putting on hospital
clothing over her civilian clothes, Lyta made her way to Bryson's
recovery room. She convinced the nurse to let her into the room with Bob
even though he was
still anesthetized. 

   They had positioned Bob on his stomach in order to operate on his
back. The chest would had been quickly sutured to allow for this. Lyta
pulled up a chair and took the sleeping man's hand in her own. "Now we
get down to business on the hard part, Mister Bryson.

   When a person is completely anesthetized they are about as close to
death as it is possible to get and still be alive. With this thought in
mind, Lyta carefully reached out to Bob's mind. It took real effort, but
she managed to reach the part she wanted. In Bryson's mind he was
sitting at a workbench with a plethora of tools for working on small
cables and wires. "Hello, Bob," said a female voice from behind him. He
recognized it immediately.

   "What are we doing here, Lyta. I thought we were visiting people on
our list in San Francisco?"

   "We were, Bob. We've run into a little problem and you are going to
help me solve it." As she said this, a large truck backed up to one side
of Bob's workbench. Four large men got out of the truck and began
pulling the ends of
two very large cables off the truck and laying them on the workbench.

   "What do you want me to do?" Asked Bob.

   "I want you to splice all the wires and fibers of the two cable ends
into one very long cable."

   Bob examined the cable. "Wouldn't it make more sense to terminate
them in a junction box and use jumpers?"

   "Unfortunately, Bob, that's not an option. You must help me by
splicing the cables together, and when you finish, it must not be
evident to even a careful inspection. You have all the tools and
materials you need right here with you. I can give advice and
demonstrate the tools, but you must do all the work. Are you game?"

   "I feel silly, no make that stupid, but I'll do my best. I just want
an explanation when I get finished. I hope you realize this is going to
take some time. I mean weeks or months maybe."

   "We'll see, Bob. We'll see." Then she sat down to watch him.

******************************************************

   Lyta detected the arriving doctors and nurses while they were still
ten meters down the hallway. She released Bob's hand and put the chair
back where it had been the day before.

   The doctors and nurses entered the room and saw Lyta.

   "How long have you been here?" One of the male doctors questioned
sharply.

   "I stopped in for a few minutes to see how he is doing. He was
sleeping, so I just sat and watched him for a few minutes. He won't even
know I was here," responded Lyta.

   "It's not visiting hours. You'll have to leave."

   As Lyta reached the doorway, she turned and said, "He must not be
moved from his present position, Doctor."

   "Is that an order?"
   
   "No, just a suggestion." However, the idea planted in his mind would
have the effects of being an order he couldn't disobey.

*******************************************

   Lyta spent four more days and nights sitting beside Bob Bryson,
leaving only when the doctor chased her out on his morning rounds. She
heard about the miraculous recovery of the youngest of the shooting
victims and smiled smugly inside. They would go crazy trying to find
logical answers, never realizing that it was right in front of them.

   On the morning of the fifth day when the doctor came in and told Lyta
to leave, she responded, "Not without Mister Bryson. It's time for him
to check out, Doctor.

   "Run another scan on him," ordered the Doctor.

   "That won't be necessary, Doctor," said Lyta. Then she stepped over
to the mechanism that was supporting Bryson and began unfastening the
restraints.

   "You can't do that! Stop this instant!" said the Doctor, forcefully.

   Lyta turned and looked the doctor in the eyes. "I can do any damned
thing I want, and neither you nor anyone else can do anything about it.
You will sign his release." She then continued to remove the restraints.
After she had
unfastened the last one, she said, "Get out of that thing, Bob. This
little distraction has delayed us for a week."

   Bryson wiggled his toes, lifted his leg in a curl and climbed off the
special bed. "Lyta, how is it possible for me to stand up and walk?"


   "Your body healed itself. Now let's pay the bill, and get you checked
out of here. Doctor if you don't mind."

   Lyta and Bob walked out of the room. The doctor hesitated then
followed them.

   "I don't suppose you care to explain his walking?" Asked the Doctor.

   "His body healed itself, Doctor. I simply showed it how to do it. One
day in the future your profession will learn just how good the human
body is at doing that."

   They left the hospital with out any further incidents.

***********************************

In an unidentified office in an unidentified government intelligence
agency:

   "What's on your Mind Kyle?" asked Frank Dorsh.

   "Why haven't I heard anything about this newscast before today?"
Asked Kyle Ford the division head.

   "What newscast?"

   Ford said, "Play." 

   On the large monitor screen installed into the wall opposite Kyle's
desk there appeared an image. As the images played out in silence, Dorsh
watched intently. The boss didn't ask questions like this one unless he
was disturbed. After the recording finished playing, Dorsh looked at
Kyle and said, "I don't usually watch the news. What is so special about
this one?"


   "Are you blind?"

   "I see two men dropped by what must have been shots, a baby that may
or may not have been hit. So what. They catch a lot of this kind of
stuff on the monitor cameras that are installed all over the place."

   "Watch again, Frank. This is raw video and sound straight out of the
recorder."

   Frank watched the chain of events and counted three shots. "Someone
hit four people with three shots. So they are efficient. I still don't
see what this has to do with us."

   Kyle restarted the playback once again, slowing down the playback
speed just before the first man was hit. "Watch everything closely. Tell
me where the shots come from." Having said this he continued the slowed
down playback. Frank watched the explosion of blood and tissue as the
first man was hit and heard the associated shot. "Where did that shot
originate?" Asked Kyle stopping the playback.

   Frank studied the display for a few moments and then replied, "It
came from behind and slightly to the right. I'd say from the liquor
store. I saw glass being blown out of its window just before the shot
that hit our first victim."

   "Right on the money. Now pay very close attention to the next hit,"
admonished Kyle, then he restarted the playback. 

   As the man's head exploded, Frank said, "Back it up a few frames.
Then slow it down some more."

   Kyle did as requested.

   "I'll be damned, the woman behind him is being hit by the same slug
that rearranged his brain case. What happened to her? That slug caused
her to jerk forward. There is blood shooting out of her chest as the
bullet exits, but she didn't go down."

   "So kind of you to finally notice that little item. Also note that
the camera pans off her to focus on the store being robbed. When it pans
back a few minutes later, the paramedics are on the scene and the
redhead is nowhere to be seen." I have studied the other videos
available from cameras located around that area. She simply vanishes. I
mean she is blocked from view by some of the people and never shows up
on the camera again."

   "Let me guess. You want me on this day before yesterday, right?""

   "Actually four days ago would have been better."

   "Is there any way in particular you want this done?"

   "Quickly and quietly. I want to know how someone takes a shot like
that and walks away. That has some interesting ramifications about it."

**********************************
   
   Bryson was wolfing down the food like a starving man. Lyta watched
him amused.

   "You surely are hungry, considering you were only in the hospital
five days."

   "The only thing I had to eat was through the IV. I am starved!
Waiter! I want another order of number sixteen, please."

   They spent two hours getting Bryson's hunger sated and talking about
the remainder of their trip. 

   "Have you seen the recordings that are being played on the news
program, Bob?"

   "Yes. They put a small TV where I could watch it. None of the
recordings was able to get a good look at your face. All that is certain
is that the woman beside me was a redhead. The hospital people never let
any news people get
near me."

   "I'm sure that you have some questions."

   "The real question is, are you going to tell me anything?"

   "What do you want to know?"

   "Why are Nancy and I not dead?"

   "Who's Nancy?"

   Looking bewildered, Bryson replied, "The little girl that was shot.
You told me her name when we were in the park."

   "We were never in any park, Bob. I think you may have some memory
problems."

   "You really aren't going to tell me what happened. Are you?"

   "You got shot and, miraculously, you survived without any major
repercussions. What else is there to know?"

   "I was hit in the spine and my nervous system from the chest down was
gone. The bullet passed through my chest on a path that must have taken
it through my heart and part of at least one lung. I shouldn't have
lived long enough for the paramedics to arrive. Now you want me to
believe that I am just incredibly lucky. I'm not buying it, Lyta."

   "What do you want to hear? If I tell you I saved your life, would you
feel better? I can do that, whether it's true or not."

   "Just forget the whole matter, and tell me how a bullet from an
assault rifle passed through you and killed the man in front of you,
without harming you?"

   "It's all in your imagination, Bob."

   "I've seen the recordings!"

   "Recordings can be doctored and faked. If they were real you should
be able to see my face as clearly as you can yours and the lady who was
beside me. Besides this isn't the place for this conversation."

He realized, as had Garibaldi, during the {Telepath War}, that if Lyta
didn't want to tell you something, she wouldn't, regardless of the proof
you might have available. [Probably what makes her such a good liar,] he
thought to himself.

   "I resent that," she snipped.

   In the future he resolved not to forget that she was a telepath.

******************************************

   Bryson sat on the bed watching the news and listening to Lyta take
her shower. He looked at his chest, and where the bullet exited there
was no scar, only a patch of new skin. He didn't want to admit it even
to himself, but Lyta
scared the living hell out of him. He had seen and experienced enough in
her presence to realize that whatever she was, human would not be the
defining term. In the hospital, the doctor had been honest and had
showed him the pictures of the damage he had suffered because he had
wanted him to understand just what he faced. He also knew damned well
that he should've been dead less than a minute after the bullet had hit
him.

   Lyta exited the bathroom ready for bed. "A credit for your thoughts,
Bob," she said looking him in the eyes. She realized that he was
terrified of her. "Why are you afraid of me? I've never done anything to
harm you."

   "No you haven't. I don't know what to think about you, Lyta."

   "Why not think of me as a friend, and let the rest of it go?"

   "I'm trying to understand just what you are, but I haven't a clue."

   "I never thought of myself as a 'what' before. I can see why people
have trouble accepting me. A what conjures up the image of a thing not a
person or rational being."

   "I can't think of a rational explanation for you.'

   "I was re-engineered at the basic DNA level by the Vorlons to be a
super weapon. What else do you want to know. Am I a freak? That's a
matter of opinion. What is a freak? Is it someone who is shot and heals
without a scar? You tell me."

   "I would feel better if I understood you a little bit better."

   "I'm a female, Bob. Even if I was a normal human, you wouldn't
understand me. Care to try for something else?"

   "Computer record this broadcast," said Bob, as the news item began to
play. It was a composite of several surveillance camera recordings.

   "As you can see," said the newscaster, "The enhanced videos clearly
show that five people were hit by the three shots from the robber's gun.
One died instantly from a massive wound to the head. Doctors manning the
Mercy General Hospital emergency rooms reported that the man and little
girl suffered massive wounds to the heart area of the chest, and the
man's spine was nearly severed by the bullet that hit him. The little
girl's mother sustained only a broken arm bone and minor blood loss. She
was treated and released as an outpatient. While the real news is the
survival and recovery of the man and little girl,  one question seems to
defy answering. The woman standing behind the man who was killed was
obviuosly hit by the bullet that killed him, but the only apparent
injuries to her was a slight loss of blood that can be seen on her
blouse. She disappeared and hasn't been identified yet. Authorities want
to question her about the incident. If you have any relative information
call the police hotline at 456-1234. There is a five thousand credit
reward for information that results in the arrest of this woman. As
always, you won't have to give your name or testify."

   "Looks like they want to get their hands on you pretty badly."

   "Don't worry about it. No one got a clear look at me." "What really
irritates me though is that I get shot and don't die, and the police
want to haul me in. Why do I smell military intelligence intervention
with the police? Maybe it's time for you to return to Mars and leave me
in the hands of your people in the remainder of the cities I need to
visit."

   "Why should I return to Mars?"

   "If they want me that badly, it's only a matter of time before they
try and zero in on you. Take my word for it, they will use telepathic
scans to find out what you know."

   "That would be out and out illegal."

   Lyta looked at him and replied, "Do you seriously think they give a
rats ass about legalities?"

   "I suppose there aren't any alternatives."

   "I could put in blocks that would prevent them from learning
anything, but the presence of the blocks would raise big red flags,
especially since a P-12 couldn't break them."

   "We fly out of here tomorrow morning. I'll leave you in Tokyo. I'm
going to miss your company, Lyta."

   "You will get over it sooner than you think." 

******************************************

Somewhere over the Pacific Ocean:

   "We're going to be met by one of my people when we get to Tokyo. I
know absolutely nothing about the cities of the orient," commented
Bryson.

   "If it's any consolation, Bob, I know even less than you do,"
responded Lyta. "Your people in the various places we have visited have
been most helpful, I expect the same from your people here."

   "I still don't understand why you're doing things the way you are."

   "I don't want anyone else to be accountable for my actions."

   Bryson gave her a confused look.

   "You will understand when the time comes. Trust me."

****************************

At a San Francisco hotel front desk:

   "I'm sorry sir, but they checked out at 0500 this morning. They left
no information as to their destination," answered the desk clerk.

   The man who was questioning the desk clerk turned as his partner
approached. "They took a taxi and the doorman can't remember which one
or anything about it. Knowing who she is, I doubt anything he might tell
us," reported the well-dressed female.

   Agent Johnson was a beautiful woman in her early thirties. Her looks
disarmed most men she had to deal with, but those looks were deceptive.
She was very smart and knew how to use every weapon in her arsenal. He
had had several partners over the last five years and she was proving to
best of the lot. "You don't like this Alexander woman do you?"

   "I'm not paid to like or dislike her. We've been assigned to arrest
her, and as far as I know, the only thing she's done wrong is have the
audacity to not fall down dead when she is shot. I don't like anything
about this assignment." Waving her hand in a gesture of dismissal she
added, "I know, we aren't paid to like our assignments."

   "Keep in mind, Justine, this woman destroyed the Psi Corps. She is
very dangerous."

   "Pat, just who is she a danger to?"

   "That's not the point."

   "No. I don't suppose it is." Justine Johnson hadn't liked anything
about this particular assignment. When some nameless and faceless
government agency was calling the shots, one was advised to watch one's
back, because they never told you anything, and when they did, it was
usually a well-crafted lie. "My bet is that they went to the airport.
What say we try there?"

   "Lead on, Agent Johnson."

****************************************

   Lyta's plans were falling into place of their own accord. The
accidental shooting in San Francisco resulted in a train of events that
mimicked what she had planned to instigate later in her trip. This
series of events would simply make everything she did later more
plausible. Lyta leaned back her the seat, took a sip of her drink and
smiled. Bryson looked at her smile and felt the temperature of his blood
drop a few more degrees.

   Aware of Bryson's uneasiness, Lyta said, "Relax, Bob. In a few hours
I'll be out of your life forever." Then she took another sip of her
drink.  
***************************************
     
END PART 28