Link 2

The Telesthesia Phenomenon

Prologue

As he counted the seconds to freedom, he had to tether his impulse to launch the ship out of the Widow's Web prematurely. One second too soon or too late would mean the difference of rejoining the universe or waiting another three hundred years until the next opportunity presented itself. Although it was not the eternal sentence of exile pronounced on him by the jury as a result of the two men responsible for his imprisonment, the past 125 years seemed like an eternity. In exactly 30 seconds, the Dragon would once again be loose to seek revenge for the supremacy he had been denied...

CHAPTER I
Captain's review of the mission regarding Mshalnar:
It has been one of the most difficult missions I have encountered. The conflict is over but the effects upon the crew and myself will be felt for some time yet. I must commend the performance of the negotiation team which resulted in special commendations for Commander Drew Taylor, Confidant Krysta Patrice, and Doctor Lizbeth Simon. Their efforts were instrumental in saving the lives of many inhabitants on the planet Mshalnar. Commander Taylor's influence during the treaty aspect of negotiations has resulted in an agreement between the Alnaridians, the Mshangi, and the Dominion. These two races of people will once again enjoy peace after over 125 years of war and the Dominion has gained a new ally. Since the planet is rich in corillium, a trade agreement was also established.
Doctor Simon and Confidant Patrice have designed psychological and medical therapies to eradicate the crippling viruses developed by the Mshalnarians as weapons during the conflict. Unfortunately, before a vaccine was developed, we lost several crewmen to the coagulant virus, including Ensigns Dillon Victors and Gwynn D'jardz. The overall success of this mission will be overshadowed by their loss....

His thoughts interrupted by the chime at his door, Captain Alexander Tyrell, a seasoned space veteran of the Dominion and current captain of the *Talisman*, turned off his personal computer. "Come," he replied. As the doors opened, he was not at all surprised by the figure of Lizbeth Simon, ship's physician and younger sibling, standing in the corridor. Seeing her brother at his computer, she hesitated. "If I've caught you at a bad time, I can..."
"Not at all Beth. Please, come in and sit down. Can I get you anything?"
"I'm not sure there's anything I could have right now." She walked over to a nearby chair and sat down. She sighed heavily, "My appetite hasn't been the same since we returned. I mean I-"
"Look, Beth," her brother interrupted her. "You can't blame yourself for the deaths of Gwynn and Dillon. You had no way of knowing the virus would act so quickly. Besides, if they had followed the proper safety procedures, they would not have gone into an area that had not been properly medically secured." Even though he knew he was presenting her with the facts, he also knew she was more upset in this case because Dillon Victors was a close friend of her son and his nephew, Randy.
Dillon was two years older than Randy. They had spent many hours together as children, exploring parts of the ship which were off limits to many adults, let alone children. Both had an insatiable curiosity which at times led to unplanned, if not interesting, occurrences aboard the *Talisman*. One particular incident resulted in a very exhausted Lieutenant Naxal, ship's senior security officer from the planet Baccar, who spent many days searching for ghost intruders; a runaway experiment of Randy's and Dillon's using the virtual chamber and ship's computers to see if a character created in the virtual chamber, could be taken out of the scenario and remain intact outside of the confines of the chamber. Thinking their experiment failed, the two boys erased the program and went about other ventures. Unfortunately, the ship's computer had retained the Benedict character of the program. The result was the activation of an intruder alert beacon sounding off, sometimes several times a day, and Naxal was forced to search the area of the ship in question. Once it was determined there weren't any interlopers aboard, Naxal would signal the all clear and return to his duties, frustrated at not having found anyone or anything on which he could release his adrenalin. Things continued this way for about one week until a crewman ordered his usual Sunday breakfast. The intruder alert sounded and it was determined that an order of Eggs Benedict was the culprit. A thorough search of the computer programs turned up the connection between the two boys' phantom "Benedict" and the tripping of the alarm. The look on their faces as they stood in front of one angry Baccaran was something Lizbeth would use to tease her son whenever he became too rambunctious. To this day, the mention of the "Benedict Incident" still resulted in a growl from Naxal and a look of panic in the eyes of Randy. For anyone to face up to the wrath of a Baccaran was an experience in itself. For two young boys, it was an experience that would last a lifetime... or at least until the next time.
Lizbeth's shoulders drooped. "If only I had been with them."
Seeing how vulnerable she was made Tyrell feel protective toward Lizbeth. Had she known just how close her feelings were to his in regard to her older son, Josh, she might have found the situation ironic. How does one console the person who feels responsible for the fate of another when that person has not completely resolved those feelings in himself?
"Ah, Beth." Her brother's voice had a note of quiet understanding. "Two of the smallest yet most complex words of the human vocabulary. 'If only...'," he paused, "I have used those two words many times when questioning situations distressing to me and I have always come up with the same answer. I would have to be omniscient and omnipotent to prevent all tragedies. I cannot be either of these and neither can you. Also, you cannot predict the actions of others as you could not predict Dillon and Gwynn would pick up that child in spite of seeing her parents laying near her, already dead from the virus."
Tyrell rose and ordered two cups of his favorite cappuccino from the food replicator on the far wall. As he crossed the room to get the beverages, Lizbeth watched her brother. His stride was strong and graceful, portraying a strength and gentleness that was indicative of his very being. It was one of the reasons she sought his company when she occasionally doubted herself in situations such as this. In spite of their inexperience, Lizbeth had selected Dillon and Gwynn as part of the medical contact team, because she felt that Dillon's gift for evaluating new viruses and Gwynn's talent as a sympath would be essential to help a world whose people were on the brink of total destruction. The mental virus itself killed one in four of the Alnarid and Mshangi it infected. The coagulant virus was fatal to all humanoids. Just as he had done as a child, Dillon went into an area which was "off limits" to him and had bought himself another ounce of trouble. Only this time, the trouble he bought was his last.
Lizbeth would never forget the look of confusion on Dillon's face as he approached her with the screaming child; elated at having found another survivor and alarmed at the discomfort he felt as the coagulant virus spread rapidly throughout his body. Gwynn was not far behind him. The look on Gwynn's face immediately told Dr. Simon that something was terribly wrong. Dillon just made it to the medical outpost when he collapsed. Dr. Simon rushed to his side and ran her medi-scanner over his limp form. The readings showed the blood in Dillon's body was thickening and it would be only a matter of a minute or so before his heart would no longer be able to pump it. Gwynn approached the two figures and the sympathic vibes she felt told her that Dillon would not be with them much longer. With tears flowing from her eyes, Gwynn said, "We heard the child crying and noticed the sound coming from rubble that was once a house. Dillon went under some beams and I followed partway. He reached the child and passed her to me. Her mother and father were already beyond help. As we were climbing out, the beams shifted and fell on us. The control panel on Dillon's medi-suit was damaged and the protective field collapsed. Mine was also damaged but it only weakened the field." She paused. "Will I...." The look in Simon's eyes was all that was needed for Gwynn to know what her fate would be. The slight exposure to the virus meant only a few minutes more for her.
As Tyrell approached his sister with the cappuccino, she forced herself to smile. "I know you are right Alex. I suppose what's really bothering me is that I have to tell Randy a lifelong friend of his has died. I just don't know how I can explain this to him without him feeling I was somehow responsible."
Alex placed his cup of cappucino back on the table and gently reached across to grasp Lizbeth's hand. "I know how difficult it was for you to tell Randy about Josh. You refused to let me be there when you told him, afraid of how he would respond to my presence. Now I ask that you allow me to be there when you tell him about Dillon. I'm sure that by being together when you tell him will make it clear to Randy that command decisions are based upon experience and that even a vast amount of experience cannot guarantee the complete safety of every member of the crew." He paused, then continued, " I believe that by reminding Randy of the time Naxal threatened to make the two of them perform the Baccaran ritual of forgiveness for the 'Benedict Incident' will give him more insight into the meaning of command decision. Wasn't it a young Randy who led Dillon in that little escapade?"
With the beginnings of a genuine smile on her face, Lizbeth nodded and started to enjoy the cappuccino.

The *Dragon's Wing* sailed through the closing anomaly, the outer gate of the prison which had held him for the past l25 years. Its agility beyond any other ship in the known universe and the ease with which she maneuvered was made possible by the only being who was capable of understanding her. Her very essence seemed somehow linked to Dragarth as she responded to the Dragon's commands almost before they were given. The changes he made in his new ship held many exciting possibilities which he had been waiting anxiously to test.
As he watched the anomaly close behind him, he knew that all of his hard work would soon be rewarded. He was invincible, a telepath able to tap into the energies around him to enhance his powers, provided the flow of those energies did not oppose his own. It was the way he was captured 125 years ago by members of the Dominion, a group of galaxies bound together by a common cause... that worlds should be able to develop peacefully and according to their own doctrines.
They created a containment field around his ship, its forces diametrically opposed to his own, limiting his telepathic talents of manipulation to the confines of his ship, which bound him throughout his trial. His crime - Evil and all of the chaos he created in trying to destroy the concept of the Dominion. He was found guilty and after sentencing, his ship, now a prison cell, was transported to the largest and most unstable anomaly in the known universe... The Widow's Web. He was to remain there until he was deemed by the Dominion as no longer posing a threat to the universe. Every ten years his appeal was denied. A probe, launched into the Widow's Web, delivered the response and was the sole contact he had with the only universe he had known.
But now, there would be a heavy price to pay for the delay of his destiny - ultimate ruler of the universe. His conditions were still the same for all those he would encounter... their loyalty to him as their leader and undeniable devotion to his cause.
Smiling, Dragarth put the ship on autopilot and walked to his medical lab. This was a place he thought of as his first "home". It was, after all, the place where he was "born", created by a race of beings even he did not fully understand. Once they had realized the extent of his evilness and their inability to control him, they too, abandoned him. But no matter. He was a survivor and was proud of the improvements he had made to the ship in his 125 years of isolation. He was also anxious to use the new lab equipment to carry out a very complex plan. The new capabilities of the *Dragon's Wing* would allow him to make any demands of those who were touched by it. The first person to whom this honor would be bestowed was only a short time from realization.
Dragarth entered the lab and approached the domed platform. He slowly raised the lights and nodded his head in approval of the figure that was nearing completion. The features of Kraval were strong and the memories brought back by them evoked both anger and admiration from the Dragon. Even in a state of unconsciousness, Dragarth remembered the reason for the ease of loyalty which Kraval received from those he commanded. Satisfied that the process would continue unimpeded without him, Dragarth went back to the bridge of his ship to listen for any messages that were currently being sent either to or from any Dominion vessel. The name did not matter since it was an armada of vessels, mostly from Earthcore, which escorted him to his prison so long ago.

Tyrell was in his quarters taking inventory of the items in his suitcase. The crew of the *Talisman* hustled about, making plans for an overdue shore leave on Beta Zari. The planet was chosen for this year's Intergalactic Olympics but afforded many other activities in which the crew could engage, including the usual "rest and relaxation". After the Mshangi/Alnarid incident, Captain Tyrell had requested an extension of shore leave to four weeks instead of the usual two. He felt that the extra time would give the crew a chance to deal with the recent loss of fellow crewmen in their own way. They would also have some time to relax and unwind before returning to life aboard an intergalactic ship whose demands exceeded those of most others. Tyrell was planning to join a group of Zarians competing in the Scorethlon, a combination of ten mind challenging events as well as ten physical ones. Tyrell looked forward to the upcoming competition, almost as formidable as being captain of the *Talisman*.
"Captain Tyrell," Naxal's voice boomed over the intercom. "We are approaching the planet Beta Zari and will establish orbit in fifteen minutes."
Tyrell activated his intercom badge. "Thank you, Mr. Naxal. I'm on my way to the bridge. Tyrell out." He finished packing his suitcase and headed for the bridge. As he stepped out into the corridor, he saw Commander Taylor coming around the corner. Taylor still had a slight limp from the injuries he received when the Alnarians started an avalanche that buried the embassy of the Mshangi. Dr. Simon performed extensive surgery to repair the leg and still wasn't sure he would regain the same level of strength or agility he'd had before.
Taylor met Tyrell's eyes and smiled. "Well now, Captain. I'm sure I speak for all of the crew when I say that we are appreciative of the extended shore leave you arranged for us. I know that I will be happy to be out in the open air, hiking through the mountains so like those of my hometown in Virginia." They continued walking down the corridor.
"Is that your idea of 'rest and relaxation', Commander? I thought you were supposed to take it easy on that leg until you completed the therapy Doctor Simon prescribed." Though she was his sister, Tyrell referred to her by her title when addressing the crew.
"Well, the pace may be a bit quicker and more strenuous than she would like but I thought the scenery would give me more incentive than that of the therapy room. If I have to walk for at least an hour a day and climb steps for another half hour, I might as well enjoy it." Tyrell had to admire Drew's determination. "If the scenery is that invigorating, I may just join you when I finish competing with the Zarian team."
A sheepish grin crept onto Taylor's face. "If you think you can keep up, Captain, I'll be most happy to have your company. But, I don't want to hear you complaining like the last time."
Tyrell feigned a tone of embarrassment, "Now that's not quite fair Drew. Was it my fault that bear thought my boots were his dessert and I had to walk back to camp barefoot?" Laughing, they both entered the leviport, the intraship transportation system, and headed for the bridge.
As soon as the leviport reached its destination, Captain Tyrell and Commander Taylor stepped out and took their accustomed positions. Tyrell sat in one of the two center seats of Command Station, Taylor sat in the other one. It was designed to allow them access to all functions of the ship if necessary, though each member of the bridge crew had his or her own post apart from the central console.
Eniac, a being from the planet Erewhonia, was at the navigation console calculating the position for orbiting Beta Zari. Erewhonians were a race of androgynous clones whose brains were literally programmed from birth with mind enhancement computer chips. They were devoid of all emotions, a direct result of genetic engineering and rigorous training in logic during their childhood. Gender was determined by the race into whose service the Erewhonian was enlisted. In Eniac's case, the members of Earthcore felt more comfortable referring to Eniac as masculine due to his muscular physique.
Confidant Krysta Patrice, a sympath from the planet Davor, occupied a seat behind Command Station in order to maximize her talents in receiving emotional "vibes" from those around her, as well as those beings through which contact had been established with the ship's communications systems.
"Message coming in from the planet, sir," Naxal announced from his communications console. The Baccaran, a race of beings well known for their military prowess and loyalty, took his position at communications as part of his duties as chief security officer. His physical stature was an added attribute. At six foot seven, there were few who dared to challenge him when his sentinel senses were heightened during a crisis. Yet, as a father and mate, he was extremely gentle with his wife, Jenna, and his son, Sebastian.
"Put it on visual Mr. Naxal," said Tyrell. The serene view of the planet was replaced by that of the governor of Beta Zari. "I am Zreen Amin, governor of this planet. It is my pleasure to welcome you, Captain Tyrell, and your crew. I am pleased you have chosen our world for your shore leave. Accommodations have been arranged for all who intend to visit. If I may inquire, how long will it be before the arrival of the first party?"
"We should be ready to start transporting down in half an hour," replied Tyrell. "However, it is we who are honored that you have accepted our request in allowing my crew to visit your planet. On behalf of my crew, please accept my deepest gratitude for your generosity." There was a nod of approval from Zreen. "Tyrell out."
A low snarl was heard from Naxal which drew the attention of Commander Taylor.
"Something bothering you, Mr. Naxal?" asked Taylor.
"All these 'pleasantries' seem so humiliating. A Baccaran would never admit to such frivolous praise, especially when it hasn't been earned. It is a sign of weakness," Naxal said with a tone of displeasure in his voice. Baccarans had little room for luxuries especially those whose purpose was to soothe the psyche.
"But the Zarians believe they have earned the right to receive such praise," interjected Eniac. "After their role in preventing the disaster on Alpha Zari between the Qaraakis and the four stranded crewmen of the *Destiny*, from the planet Psaras which recently joined the Dominion, they feel they deserve that honor from anyone even remotely connected to the Dominion. To do otherwise would be an insult and could result in a major conflict."
"Still," Naxal continued, "I am glad that it is not I who must play the role of the subservient to such an unworthy race of people."
"Well, never let it be said that you have any difficulty expressing your opinion, Mr. Naxal," added Patrice. "Perhaps it is their appearance that makes you repulsed by them. Which reminds me Captain... how *do* you plan to survive 'Spetch', the part of the competition requiring prolonged physical contact?" Not only were the Beta Zarians on the scaly side, but a sweaty one was enough to wilt the spirits of even the most stout of heart.
The crew was not all together successful at stifling their laughter at Patrice's question, which made Tyrell sit up a little straighter and clear his voice before he spoke. "Ah, Confidant Patrice, one must remember that a competitor's spirit can truly 'soar and reach new heights', thereby countering any physical discomforts, especially those of the olfactory sense." Feeling that his dignity was somewhat restored, Tyrell smiled and asked, "Speaking of shore leave, what will you be doing on your's, Confidant?"
Patrice shifted her gaze from the captain to Taylor and then back to the captain. "Didn't Drew tell you? We are going to do some hiking in the mountainous area of the planet. I thought I could use the time to practice some new meditation techniques I learned from the Alnari."
Tyrell gave Taylor a sidelong look. "Yes, he mentioned something about exercising in the mountains instead of the therapy room. He said he felt the change of 'scenery' would be more of an incentive to keep up with the walking timetable prescribed by Doctor Simon."
"Drew Taylor!" said Patrice with a tone of mock indignation. "Now I understand what you meant when you said that my company and support would enhance your recovery!"
"All right! All right! I give," smiled Taylor. "I'm touched that all of you have taken such an interest in my well being." Tyrell smiled inwardly. It was good to finally see his crew beginning to recover from their past ordeal.

Dragarth looked down upon the sleeping form of the man who was his enemy. He placed one hand on Kraval's DNA recording and the other on the dome. He closed his eyes and summoned the soul of Kraval to pass from the recording through him and into the body of Kraval. After a few moments, the Dragon removed his hands and slowly reduced the drugs keeping Kraval in a sleep induced state. Kraval awaken to a light level of consciousness. As the human's eyes fluttered open, Dragarth was making some adjustments on the restraints.
*Dragarth!*, Kraval thought with a feeling of astonishment. He tried to move but was unable. *I must be dreaming. This is impossible! We battled... and I lost*.
"My Sleeping Beauty," said Dragarth. His voice one of contained excitement. "It has been a long time. I have many things to discuss with you but not right now. When the time is right, you will know my plans; for you, myself, the universe. For now, all you need to know is that you are here, safe with me." The Dragon left the room.
*Impossible!*, Kraval thought again. Panic filled his body. He could not come to accept the reality that he was once again the prisoner of the man who had destroyed him. He started to drift off to sleep again when he heard footsteps. Kraval fought to open his eyes. Dragarth was once again by his side. There was a look of satisfaction about the Dragon. He had learned much in the past few hours and there was triumph in his voice as he spoke.

"I have found it!" Dragarth's voice thundered. "The Dominion ship which shall pay the price for our imprisonment, denying me my destiny. Her name is the *Talisman* and I pity the crew who serves her now." Dragarth stared at his prisoner. The look of intense hatred on Kraval's face made him smile. "I will never again be denied that which is rightfully mine." In a softer tone he said, "It will be difficult for you, too. I am the only one now who is of the time before. You need me, and soon the others will too. I have much to do before we come to terms with each other. For now, I will let you rest and deliberate the facts that I have told you." Dragarth made a few more adjustments to the medical equipment.
With an effort that was born of frustration, anger and stubborn pride, Kraval struggled against the effects of the drugs and rasped, "I will *never* need you. I don't know why I am here now, but this time I will succeed in destroying you!"
Dragarth froze and stared at Kraval. His face hardened and he let out a derisive laugh. It was the last thing Kraval heard before the sedative took hold and he fell into the black void of sleep induced by the drugs Dragarth had administered.
"You have much to learn my subcommander to be," Dragarth said to the unconscious Kraval. The Dragon went back to his quarters to gather the information for the next part of his plan.
For the past week, Dragarth had set the computers of the *Dragon's Wing* to record all messages concerning any Dominion vessels. The first Dominion ship identified was the *Talisman* and so he had the computer extract only those communications regarding her. As the computer relayed the contents of the transmissions, the recent events involving the *Talisman* and the inhabitants of the planet Mshalnar were made known to him. "So," the Dragon said to himself. "This new *Talisman* crew has made a valiant effort to bring together the peoples of a world that I had split apart. I think I will stop at Mshalnar first to see just how stable the newly established treaty is." He smiled as the pieces of his plan began to take shape.
With the knowledge of what he would do next, Dragarth made his way to the bridge. He punched in the coordinates of Mshalnar on the navigation console and engaged the Tek-Drive. He put the ship on autopilot and headed back to the medical lab. After mulling over the rebellious statements made by Kraval, Dragarth decided to eliminate the defiance he was sure Kraval would continue display toward him. Knowing it was the only way he would get full cooperation from Kraval, Dragarth placed his fingers on the appropriate meridians on Kraval's face and established a mind-link entry. He quickly traveled the contours of Kraval's mind, breaking past all of Kraval's defensive emotional barriers with ease and tapped into the part of Kraval's mind that held his feelings of defiance toward the Dragon. He implanted the words, “*Kesh Kraval, my subcommander, second only to me in control of the universe,*” and seeded the actions Kraval would take upon hearing those words spoken aloud.

Chapter 2
Taylor looked out the window of the Zarian land cruiser. The sight of ice capped mountains brought back memories of a time when life was a lot less complicated and demanding. The scenery caused him to reflect upon one incident that was particularly endearing to Taylor. As a boy, he would often head off into the mountains alone, especially when something was bothering him. On one occasion, he had gone straight to his favorite hiking path instead of coming directly home from school. He was upset by an argument he had had with his father that morning. Ken Taylor wanted young Drew to spend the upcoming summer vacation helping his uncle in the family convenience store. Before his father could finish explaining the situation to him, Drew adamantly refused to go and stormed out of the house. He had difficulty concentrating in school and decided to go to his "special place" to think things over. He knew he would come up with a very good reason why he couldn't help his uncle, but he didn't know what that reason would be just yet. So, as soon as the dismissal bell rang, Drew headed toward the mountain where he would stay until he had his answer.
On the way there, Drew thought about how unfair his father was being by already planning his summer vacation when even he didn't have a chance to think about it. After all, summer was still a month away. He wanted to do something exciting that none of the other kids his age would be doing. He had to prove to them that he wasn't lying when he told them he would be joining a family member on a dangerous space mission this summer. If he had to spend it helping out in a local "mom and pop" store, he would never come close to space travel and would be subjected to the tauntings of his peers next school year. Drew had thought about asking his father if he could join the Space Explorers Club. At least he would get to travel to some of the local galaxies thereby having a basis for describing a hostile planet on which he would do something heroic, even if it was slightly exaggerated.
When he reached the top of the peak, he quickly gathered some wood and made a fire. He wished his father could understand him better and realize that his dreams exceeded any that his father could possibly imagine. The flames of the fire became hypnotic and his mind wandered into that part of his imagination where he battled many an alien being who was threatening the life of a very beautiful young maiden.
The growl of his stomach brought him back to his surroundings, reminding him that he had skipped lunch today in order to avoid conversation with his friends and the questions he was sure they would ask him about his summer plans. Sighing heavily, he got up and went to a nearby cave to retrieve a fishing pole he kept up there for just such an emergency. Fishing always seemed to relax him, clearing his mind and allowing him to think. It was usually during this time he resolved some of his most difficult problems.
As he approached his customary fishing spot, Drew could see a tall figure standing on a large rock in the middle of the stream. The intruder's back was facing him so Drew decided not to draw the attention of the individual by going further upstream to fish. As Drew turned to leave, a familiar voice said, "I really forgot just how peaceful it is up here." Somewhat astonished to find that his "special place" was known to the one person he did not want to see at the moment, Drew could feel anger rising within himself. He opened his mouth to yell at his father but decided he would not give him the satisfaction of knowing how upset he had made him. Instead, Drew quietly went about baiting his fishing pole and cast it without acknowledging his father's presence.
The elder Taylor waited to speak again until the surroundings had attained the desired effect. It was difficult for Drew, or himself, to maintain their anger toward eachother when nature was providing them with such a beautiful sight. The tall trees, the occasional chirp or rustling of the woodland creatures, and the soft murmuring of the stream could ease the mood of the devil himself, given enough time.
After a while, Ken started to work his way closer to where his son was fishing. Drew still refused to acknowledge his father even when he sat down next to him. "This place hasn't really changed that much over the years," Ken Taylor spoke, knowing his son was listening to him even though he knew he would have to wait a while longer before Drew would respond to his conversation. "It still has the same effect on me now that it had when I was about your age," he continued. Out of the corner of his eye, Ken saw his son quickly glance in his direction and knew he had Drew's attention. "Yep. Never could stay mad at anyone if I remained here long enough."
Drew shifted his gaze from his father to the ground. He picked up a few pebbles and began tossing them into the stream. "What would you know about getting angry? You get to make all of the decisions about your life... and mine too!"
Drew was sure his words would spark another argument but was surprised when his father said, "You're right, Drew. I have been making decisions for you most of the time. What if you give me a chance to finish explaining what this summer job would entail and then you can decide if you want it or not? If you say yes, I'll let you call your uncle and tell him yourself. If you decide not to go, then I'll call and tell him you had other plans I wasn't aware of."
The offer sounded too good. It left Drew speechless for a while as he waited for the proverbial other shoe to drop. When it did not come, Drew looked at his father and said, "All right. But if I don't want to go, what *other* choice of a summer job do you have in mind for me?"
Drew's father admired his son's directness. His personality was so much like his own that he had made the mistake of assuming Drew would simply agree with whatever decisions he had made. "Nothing. Whatever you decide to do this summer will be of your own choosing."
Drew hesitated a moment and said, "Okay. Go ahead and tell me about the job."
"Thought you'd never ask," his father said, smiling at him. "Business has been kind of slow in town lately and so your uncle thought it would be a good idea to relocate the *Taylor Emporium*. Since most of the other towns already have stores like his, he wants to venture 'out of town'. After all, the store has been in the same place since the launching of the first skatcraft. Uncle Max feels it's about time for a change." Ken could see he had his son's interest. "Now that I think about it, maybe you really wouldn't be able to handle the job. It might be a little dangerous since we really don't know how the new alien neighbors will...." He didn't get to finish his sentence. Drew jumped at the word “alien”. "What do you mean, 'the new alien neighbors'?"
His father looked at Drew with a slight smile on his face. "Oh, didn't I mention it before? I could have sworn I said that the new location would be on the Planet Darius in the Delta Galaxy."
After explaining to his son a few details and responsibilities involved in setting up the new store on an entirely new world Drew, forgetting that he was ever hungry, began scrambling to get his fishing equipment together in order to hurry home and begin packing. Before they left the mountain, Drew looked at his father and smiled to himself. *And I thought he didn't understand me*.
As it turned out, Drew had quite an adventure and ended up with his first off world pen pal. The wife and daughter of the regent had stopped in the store for some cooking utensils. When the young girl who was about Drew's age tried to say hello, her mother quickly pulled her daughter to her side. Seeing that she wanted to speak to him, Drew offered his assistance and was rewarded with a big smile from the girl, and a glaring look from her mother. Not understanding the mother's anger, Drew retreated behind the counter and waited until they left before asking his uncle about the situation. Uncle Max explained that since the girl had two rings on each finger of her left hand, it meant she was spoken for and it would be improper for her to speak to another male who was not known to the family. "I can't believe she's going to be married! She's just about as old as I am and I know I won't even consider marriage for at least another thirty years." The look on Drew's face made his uncle laugh. Before the end of that summer, Drew managed to get himself invited for dinner and was allowed to take the regent's daughter on closely chaperoned outings. It was the beginning of Drew's introduction to all of the strange new customs he would encounter in the many years to come.
"A zren for your thoughts," said Krysta. Her words brought Drew out of his reverie.
"What?" he asked, not sure that he had heard her.
"Well, that is the correct Zarian denomination for the ancient American penny, isn't it?"
"When did you start offering money to read people's thoughts?" he said teasingly.
"Actually, the look on your face was so serene I was getting curious as to the reason behind such pleasant vibes I was receiving. However, judging by the pure simplicity of those feelings, I'd say they were those of a restless young boy."
Their conversation was interrupted by the driver's announcement of their arrival at the drop off point. They began to unload the cruiser. Drew winced as he swung his backpack onto his shoulders. The increased gravity made the backpack feel twice as heavy, which made his leg protest. Unwilling to allow his discomfort to get the best of him, Drew smiled and helped Krysta with her gear. To his surprise, her pack did not feel quite as heavy as his. Anticipating he was about to inquire as to the difference in the weight of the packs, Krysta turned to the driver and confirmed the time he would return to pick them up. Then, without further delay, she began to walk up the trail which would
take them to their destination, the top of Mount Fezri, named after Fezriticus, the unique type of swirly pink and lavender vegetation that grew on it.
Caught up by the sight of the lush foliage and serenity of the mountain, Drew had to remind himself of the reason he came here. Some "R and R" but, mainly to build up the muscles of his leg. Watching Krysta disappear behind some brush, he had to double his pace to catch up to her. Even though she was dressed in clothes meant for the rigors of hiking, Drew had to admit she still looked beautiful. He was grateful for their relationship and the way it had progressed over the years. They were more than just friends now and on many occasions, they shared some of their shore leave or down time.
Walking alongside of her, Drew asked Krysta about the meditation techniques shown to her by the Alnari. "It is a way to filter through emotional barriers and center on the feelings or intentions of others more quickly. I thought the solitude of the mountains would give me a chance to master at least the first part of the technique."
"And after that?" he prodded.
"Then I will need a person to practice on. Someone who likes to keep up a good front even when things aren't going the way he would like." Krysta glanced at Drew as she said the last part.
"I can't imagine where you could possibly find anyone who fits that description," said Drew innocently.
They walked along in silence for a while, each lost in personal thoughts. Finally, they reached the point at which they would start to climb the mountain. Although the distance they had travelled from the land cruiser was only a few miles, Drew's leg felt as though he had just completed a marathon. Physical fitness had always been something in which Drew excelled. It had been a long time since he had experienced the burning pain that comes from using muscles whose strength had been tapped long ago.
"I think we'll set up camp here for the night," Drew stated as he took off his backpack. His tone was one which did not ask for a discussion on the subject.
"Yes, I guess we could both use the rest," Krysta replied. She unhooked the straps to her pack and laid it on the ground. "I hear running water nearby. I'm going to see if I can find it and if it looks inviting, I just might take a swim before dinner. Do you want to join me, Drew?"
Knowing how invigorating a swim in the cold waters of a mountain stream could be, Drew did not hesitate in his response. "You don't have to ask me twice. And without that backpack," he continued as he gave it a sidelong glance, "I just might race you there. I really didn't think I packed that much..." He stopped as he realized Krysta was about to burst into laughter. She grabbed his hand and pulled him to his feet as he started to open her backpack. "I realize how curious you must be but for now... trust me," she said as she led him toward the stream.
Raising an eyebrow, Drew allowed her to lead him. His near death experience strengthened his need to be close to her and she to him. They both knew this shore leave would give them the time to explore their relationship further. It would either grow and reach the next level of the pre-bond-link or progress slowly as it had been before the incident on Mshalnar.

Captain Tyrell was going over strategies for the upcoming events with the Zarian team leader Zmalh, who was, in the captain's own opinion, a little too eccentric even by Zarian standards. If it weren't for the challenge only the Scorethlon afforded, Tyrell would have walked out hours ago. However, he had to admit he was enjoying the new perspective Zmalh was debating concerning the use of unconventional tactics in the age old games.
The differences in the anatomies between the Zarians and humans were proving to be quite a task in planning strategies for some of the physical events, particularly the ones involving weaponry. The one they were currently discussing, the "Four Man Defense", included Tyrell and three Zarians. The problem was how to overcome a handicap Tyrell presented for the Zarian team. The captain was arguing it wasn't necessary for the Zarians to use more than two swords simply because the Zarians had four arms. Zmalh was hoping to make up the difference by arming his men with two foils, a long sword, and a dagger.
"But Honorable Zmalh," Tyrell said with his arms outstretched, "The true challenge of this event is to be victorious by utilizing the *least* amount of weaponry. It is going to be difficult for people to believe in the integrity or the true sportsmanship of a team whose members are wielding two to four weapons battling against opponents armed with a single sword. Those are odds even the least experienced Zarian would deem unacceptable." He waited while Zmahl considered his statement.
After a few tense moments, Zmalh faced Tyrell and said, "I concede to your logic, Alex. Therefore, our team will be armed with three swords and not the dagger." A frown creased his forehead. "But what are we supposed to do with our empty hand?" the team leader asked, genuinely puzzled.
Tyrell heard the sound of someone behind him. He turned to see Lizbeth standing on the side of the practice hall. Grateful for the interruption, Tyrell suggested to Zmalh they could all use a break as it was nearing the Zarian Zenith Hour.
The Zenith Hour was the time when the three suns orbiting Beta Zari aligned themselves across the sky. The brightness and intensity of heat prevented the Zarians from going out doors during this time period which lasted about five earth hours. This event occurred once a week for the past six centuries and since it was viewed as a religious happening by the elder Zarians, the tradition of self-indulgence during Zenith Hour had been carried down from past generations to the present. Over the next few hours, everyone was expected to spend time meditating and, as tradition dictated, doting on oneself.
Calling the team together, Zmalh praised them highly for the day's work and dismissed them. Lizbeth walked with Alex back to the locker room. "I see you're not the only one who has to adjust to a change in plans," she said as he stepped into the changing booth.
"Well, if you're talking about the discussion involving the number of weapons per team member we were having, I suppose we'll muddle through with some sort of a compromise. Though... I may have to brush up on some of my defensive techniques in order to be considered on par with the abilities of the Zarians. Maybe I'll spend a few hours with 'The Three Musketeers' in the virtual chamber." Alex emerged from the changing booth and saw a look of disappointment on Lizbeth's face. "I see that something isn't turning out exactly the way you wanted either." He led the way out of the building. "Anything I can do to help?"
"Unless you can make both of us into a photon particle, I rather doubt it," she sighed heavily. Seeing the puzzlement in Alex's expression, she continued. "Randy decided to take an extra course inbetween semesters, something to do with quantum physics, so I won't be able to see him until after our shore leave is over."
They stepped out into the bright sunlight. Alex put on his sun visor and turned to Lizbeth. "Since we won't be occupied this afternoon explaining to Randy what happened on Mshalnar, will you join me for lunch? I know of a small cafe where they make some of the best bezecki this side of the galaxy."
"Umm, bezecki," she repeated as though she could taste it. "It's been quite a while since I've had any real bezecki. The food replicators on the ship just don't quite seem to be able to capture the flavor no matter how many variations of the spices I've tried. I guess what they say about chefs is truly universal."
"And what might that be?"
"That there is always one secret ingredient they leave out of the recipe so you wonder what you're doing wrong."
They walked along in silence for a while, taking in the exotic decorations of the Zarian culture. The Zarian people thought very highly of themselves which was reflected in the elaborate designs of their buildings. "I hadn't realized you were so fond of bezecki," Tyrell said as they approached the restaurant. "There are so few people who truly enjoy it's taste that I didn't expect to find anyone else besides myself who also likes it." He saw a smile make its way to Lizbeth's face. "Somehow I think there is more than just the taste of the bezecki involved here ."
"You're absolutely right, Alex. There is much more." Her mood lightened as she recounted her introduction to the exotic dish, the equivalent of Baccaran Chili. "You see, the first time I had any was when I took Rey to a new restaurant to tell him I was pregnant with Randy. We were also celebrating our ninth wedding anniversary, so Rey thought my excitement was due to the anticipated events of the evening we had planned. Before we even sat down, I smelled the bezecki and asked the waiter for some in spite of the fact I had never had any before. Rey gave me one of his surprised looks to which I replied, 'Well, I didn't want to be like every other expectant mother and have ice cream and pickles'. At first Rey started arguing with me about bezecki being too spicy for most Baccarans, let alone a mother-to-be until he realized what I had just said. Then, as the words sank in, he decided to celebrate and ordered bezecki for everyone in the restaurant." She laughed to herself, remembering her husband's impulsiveness. "Rey's next two paychecks went directly to that restaurant."
"Speaking of Rey, how's he doing?" Tyrell asked. He had been close to his brother-in-law.
"Rey's just finishing up his residency at Earthcore University of Extra-Terrestrial Medicine," Lizbeth said with obvious pride. "He should be joining us as a new recruit after we finish this mission... and I've had my bezecki!"
Alex smiled at her. "If you're really determined to find the right ingredients for the *Talisman's* replicators, why don't you analyze it with your techno-scanner?" The solution seemed so apparent. It wasn't often family problems or those of his crew could be solved this easily. Alex enjoyed the simplicity of the moment.
"To do so in the restaurant would be an insult to the chef and I wouldn't want to cause a major conflict over something so trivial," she replied a bit skeptical of the plan. "After all, you know how temperamental the Zarians can be."
"Indeed," he agreed. "How about getting an order 'to go'? Then you can take it back to the ship with you and analyze it while I work out in the virtual chamber."
"Now why didn't I think of that?" Lizbeth said, more as a question to herself than one requiring a response.
"Maybe because you have other things on your mind," Alex replied anyway as they entered Le Beztec.

When Kraval awoke, he was still mumbling, "...can't be..." He sat bolt upright and had to stop himself from lashing out at an enemy who was not there. He calmed his breathing and looked at his surroundings. It was reassuring to see he was in his own quarters on the *Fury* and felt the comfort of security they afforded him. Somehow, Shanar must have found a way to pull him back from the *Dragon's Wing*. As he wiped the sweat from his face, he went over in his mind the nightmare he hoped would be the last he would have about a man he both admired and would kill, without a second thought. His breathing returning to normal, he called the bridge to check on the ship's current position.
"Shanar here," came the familiar reply of his subcommander, a being who was mostly Goren, a race of telepaths, but had some Davoran traits mixed in, making him a telepath who was more sensitive to the feelings of others. "We are currently headed toward the planet Mshalnar. The inhabitants have recently experienced a devastating virus and we are on our way to help them develop a vaccine. We should be arriving in approximately 7 hours 42 minutes."
"Very good, Shanar." His voice still not as confident as he would have liked.
"Is anything wrong, Captain?" Shanar inquired.
"Nothing," he replied all too quickly. "I guess I'm still not used to the idea Dragarth is finally behind us. I can't help but feel somehow, our paths will cross again."
*Sooner than you may think my dear captain*, Dragarth laughed to himself. Dragarth had summoned the essence of Shanar from the DNA recording stored in the *Dragon's Wing* computer. It was captured during the last time Shanar transported back to the *Fury* over 125 years ago. He incorporated Shanar's essence into his own giving him the ability to flawlessly mimic Shanar's voice. The Dragon needed a little more time to set things up to his advantage so he decided to play the part a little longer. "After an ordeal such as that," he continued in the voice of Shanar, "it will take a while before you are able to attain the level of peace and tranquility we all enjoyed prior to the events surrounding Dragarth. Since there is little for you to do on the bridge at the moment, you should try to rest and relax as much as possible before we reach Mshalnar."
Kraval smiled in spite of his doubts. Shanar, always looking out for his best interests. "I suppose you're right. I'll stay in my quarters for another few hours and then I'll join you on the bridge. Kraval out."
*Excellent*, thought Dragarth. By the time they reached Mshalnar in less than one hour, he would have all of the facts from subspace transmissions to understand how the new crewmen of the *Talisman*, one of the ships which escorted him to his prison, were able to make a treaty on a world the Dragon thought would be under his control years ago. He would then have the means to put a glitch in the treaty which would start the warring again and ...have the *Talisman* come to the rescue once more...

Dragarth returned his attention to the most recent messages. As far as he could piece together the sequence of events, Mshalnar was finally noticed by the Dominion as being located in a strategic position between Dominion Space and the Pacifist Barrier, something Dragarth himself had realized years ago. At that time, in the hopes of being able to get closer to the Pacifist Barrier and hence the Onarians, sworn enemies of the Dominion... or at least they were 125 years ago, Dragarth had split apart the peoples of Mshalnar into two factions, the Alnari and the Mshangi. He had held the wife of the regent of Mshalnar as a hostage for the regent's cooperation. She was ill and near death when Dragarth transported her to his ship and used the Telesthesia Phenomenon to cure her. He then transported the regent to the ship and showed him the pleasantly sleeping form of his now healthy wife. The regent was young and could not bear the thought of living without a mate, as tradition allowed the people of Mshalnar to marry only once.
Dragarth's memory shifted back to the history of the people of Mshalnar. The Mshalnarians were a symbio-telepathic race whose temperament was balanced by the mental links formed between family members. Male and female were linked in ways similar to the Yin and Yang of old oriental philosophy. The difference was the lives of the Mshalnarians depended on it. From birth, babies were mentally bonded to the parent of the opposite sex. Once the child came of age, he or she selected a mate and participated in a ceremony that severed them from their bond-parent and established a new bond with their chosen mate. Any child whose bond-parent died before the child reached maturity, could be bonded to a surrogate parent, usually a close relative. In this way, male and female emotional needs were always satisfied and the individuals were stable. When the Mshalnarians reached their age of seniorship, which was about 150 earth years old, their minds underwent a transition which enabled them to survive without a mate. If a person's mate died before the pair reached seniorship (which was rare) the surviving mate became a victim of uncontrolled emotions and thoughts which resulted in unpredictable behaviors. Unlike other telepathic races who had family rituals to aide in mending the rift caused by the loss of a spouse, there was no healing ceremony to ease the pain of separation in the Mshalnarian culture. They became outcasts who spent their remaining years alone, eventually ending up in an institution for the insane.
Since the regent knew that the death of his wife meant not only insanity but also the end of his reign, he promised everything to Dragarth in order to get his wife back. The price he paid was to institute a new law on Mshalnar which would allow telepathically oriented races from other worlds to settle on Mshalnar. Many conferences were held on the matter which became a subject for political propaganda. As the benefits and drawbacks of alien settlements were weighed, the planet began to split into two groups; the Alnari - who were for upholding tradition and purity of the Mshalnarian race, and the Mshangi - who were for integration of telepaths from other worlds in hopes of eliminating the product of outcasts by changing the bonding system into a more stable form.
As the issue grew, so did the feelings of loyalty and hatred. War began when two delegates at a conference started arguing and used physical violence for the first time in centuries. Each side, fearing the other would resort to stronger methods, armed themselves with weapons secretly supplied by Dragarth. He had planned to materialize in the middle of one of the many negotiations conferences and present a solution to stop the fighting. Once that was accomplished, Dragarth would declare himself the new regent and have a new base for his operations. He could then focus his attention on the Onarians. The Dragon would also have a new source of power, the energy from the telepathic minds of the Mshalnarians, to restore the dwindling supply he had left for the operation of the Telesthesia Phenomenon.
The problem arose as Dragarth was checking on other planets where he swayed leaders to do his bidding by use of the Telesthesia Phenomenon. This allowed time to pass in which Kraval and Shanar had been assigned to investigate the reasons for which planets, loyal to the Dominion for hundreds of years, suddenly began terminating their alliances. Kraval and Shanar quickly discovered the source of the dwindling number of worlds dedicated to the Dominion. Dragarth's true motives were revealed to all. His source of power on the *Dragon's Wing* was nearly depleted and as a result, he lost control of the energy he needed to protect himself. It was at that point in time Dragarth engaged in a face-to-face battle with Shanar and Kraval. Shanar was able to create a containment field using the shields from the five Dominion vessels surrounding Dragarth to cut off Dragarth's access to any energy source. In effect, Dragarth's ability to function outside of the *Dragon's Wing* was nullified.
Unfortunately, before he was able to be transported off Dragarth's ship, Kraval was caught behind the completed containment field. There was no way to free Kraval and maintain the energy field surrounding the *Dragon's Wing*. Having no one else to vent his anger on, Kraval became the object of Dragarth's wrath. Each time, Dragarth brought Kraval to his knees and demanded his loyalty. Each time, Kraval refused. In the end, since Dragarth could not make Kraval into an ally, he killed him.
During this same time, Dragarth's trial was held and as a result of his atrocities to the worlds of the Dominion as well as directly being responsible for the death of Kraval, he was sentenced to an eternity behind the Widow's Web. The Dragon took with him only one thing from the universe which banished him... the DNA recordings of the last two individuals who had been aboard his ship... Shanar and Kraval.
It was Kraval who Dragarth chose to bring back. Shanar would pose too many problems at the moment. Dragarth decided to delay bringing him back until he found a new source of power for the Telesthesia Phenomenon and a way to control Shanar. In an effort to accomplish this last part of his task, Dragarth also embodied Shanar's telepathic and empathic abilities into his own. As a side benefit, he would utilize these new talents to make the Mshalnari distrust the Dominion and align themselves to him. When the *Talisman* came to restore their trust, he would use the Telesthesia Phenomenon to gain control of the crew of the *Talisman* and use them to infiltrate the Dominion.

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