by Henry Wyckoff
Crossover: XF, DW (4th Doctor), HL, ST:Voy, and the world of David Eddings
The Door is Open
Jan stared at the gentleman, who had been restrained in a straight- jacket. He had hoped that the man would have the mind of an adult, whether he was cold and collected or scared and blubbering. But this man was childish and without any conception of the real world.
When faced with a wounded man who so desperately wanted to make him hurt, the gentleman responded with, "You're going to make me feel pain? How wonderful! That's never happened to me before!"
"Does this make you feel any better?" Methos stood at his side.
"No. I wouldn't have felt better if I hadn't come by either."
"Somebody has to pay, eh? Can't just walk away and let time slide?"
"That may work for you, but I don't work that way."
"But you don't want revenge."
Jan hung his head, "No. I just want David back." He looked at Methos, a stirring of something in his heart that he pushed back down. "I've been alive for almost two thousand years, and I haven't met anyone like David. I don't think I ever will again."
Methos put a hand on his shoulder, gently leading him out, "Don't sell yourself short, kid. There's a lot of life out there. You just have to open yourself up to it. There's a lot open to you if you'd just let go of it all."
"What do you expect? I read a lot!"
"Are you implying something by that?"
Jan didn't. He looked at his right arm. Still couldn't move it... He stopped. "I'll talk to you later."
Methos stopped too, his eyebrows raised. "I'll meet you at the coffee place Pancho was telling me about."
"Sure," Jan nodded a little too quickly. Methos, true to form, kept on going and didn't look back. Didn't slow down. Didn't seem to judge, but took it in as much stride as one took in a breath of air.
Jan made his way back to the cell, the guard not even blinking when Jan called "Something else just came to mind."
He was alone with the gentleman, who perked up like a happy puppy, "You've come to _torment_ me some more, haven't you?"
Jan sneered, "Blow it out your ass!" He yanked out his gun with his left hand and blew out the man's brains from point blank. The man collapsed like a sack of potatoes, blood and gray matter sprayed across the wall .
The sound of the shot echoed through the room again and again and again and...
"AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA!" Jan fell to his knees, grabbing at his right arm, dropping the gun. His arm still couldn't move, but it felt like the demons were ripping it out. As if David was ripping it out.
The guard ran in with his gun drawn, taking it all in, looking around frantically. He saw Jan writhing on the ground, tears falling from his eyes as he clutched at his arm. "Are you all right?"
"My arm!" Jan sobbed through clenched teeth. "The bastard won't stop!"
The guard looked at the dead prisoner. He knew enough. The guy was responsible for putting that poison on the streets. Five hundred kids looking for an innocent high, dead because this monster had wanted to kill people, just for the hell of it. He looked back at Jan, "I saw everything, sir. He attacked you and hurt your arm. You had no choice, sir."
Jan was too far gone in pain to even register what the man was saying. When help arrived, the guard had already filled out his report.
One last phrase Jan heard before his conscious mind tuned out for the next few hours was, "That poor guy has a lot of control. The bastard had to twist his arm before he'd even think of defending himself..."
And now when he began to dream, it was of underground tunnels, and chains starting to grab for him...
* * *
Poncho looked at Clovis from a distance. It looked like he'd been keeping from the drugs and drink, but he was still pretty bitter about life.
Janeway put a hand on Poncho's shoulder, "He'll be okay. You're here."
"Yeah. I know."
"Whenever you're ready. Is Zedar around?"
"We couldn't find him. Chakotay said that he left with Chuck."
"He's not really from this world's future. We could just let him go."
She shook her head, "He may not be from this world, but he's from the future. He has to come back with us."
The matter was settled when the Doctor waved from the TARDIS. Pancho shrugged, "I guess it's not that important."
When they stood on the bridge of Voyager, Pancho rubbed his head, wondering if it had all been a dream. But he knew it hadn't been when he saw the Doctor staring at him, "You did serve a purpose, you know."
"Not you too. First Powys, then you..."
The Doctor smiled, "Then Powys was right. What he probably didn't tell you is that there's no such thing as a serious dog."
The thought was so absurd that Pancho couldn't help but laugh. "Care for an Irish Kegbomb?"
It was the Doctor's turn to laugh. "No thank you. I tried it once already, and it was a near death sentence!"
He pouted, "Nobody ever wants to try them!"
The Doctor laughed again, patting him on the shoulder, "That's the price you pay for being your own man! See you when we meet again."
The Doctor and Sarah left in their fashion, leaving the crew alone on the bridge. Silk was the last one to leave. He had been speaking softly to Chakotay, and nodded goodbye when it was time to go. What they were discussing, nobody knew.
"I promise to take Silk back to his proper place," the Doctor was saying to Janeway, who had looked at the thief with a raised eyebrow, considering the fact that he'd been really chummy with several of the female crewmates over the last several minutes.
Tuvok was the first to formally greet them once the leave-takings were over and the TARDIS had left. "Welcome back, Captain."
Janeway smiled sadly, "Thank you. I wish I could say I am glad to be back..."
"I understand, Captain." Tuvok kept his thoughts to himself.
"How long were we gone?"
"Since the moment you left, three days, four hours, seven minutes, and forty-seven point five four seconds have passed."
"Thank you." She didn't say anything else on that subject and immediatly got to ship's business, but it was a clear bet that she would be the star of conversations off-duty for months to come. The same would go for Chakotay - but not for the Nightman.
The Nightman immedately left the bridge and kept to himself. The first place he went to was his cabin. Nobody had welcomed him back when in the bridge, and nobody hailed him in the hallway. He might as well have not been there at all. Wherever he might be, nobody would miss him where he was not.
* * *
I am still in Tucson after two weeks. A professor of high- energy physics and another in electrical engineering have been studying the site intensively, bringing along several well-trusted graduate students. Because of the nature of this site, they have taken vows of secrecy, which I believe they will certainly keep for the time being. Until, that is, they can produce a paper with themselves as the primary authors.
It is a shame that Mr. Dane Thurisson is not able to say anything about this site, because he was killed in his cell the very day of his arrest. Agent Jan Hendricksen shot him in the head at point-blank range. The guard who witnessed the event claimed that the man acted in self-defense, and that Agent Hendricksen had no choice. However, I find that hard to believe. No charges have been pressed, and the agent is now elsewhere. Perhaps trying to regain use of his arm, in some retreat. He is no longer working for the FBI or any other law enforcement agency.
Nevertheless, we do have some definite information about this place. It is now the largest known underground supercollider on the planet. It was secretly built by an unknown group of engineers who somehow masked the immense construction -- perhaps by lying about their activities or diverting the attention of those around them. The university people here claim that this supercollider is specifically designed to generate and capture anti-hydrogen.
CERN and other particle accelerators naturally produce anti-hydrogen in their activities, but the amount we can now capture in a year would produce 300 joules, which would light a 100 watt light bulb for three seconds. According to the reports given to me, there is enough anti-hydrogen stored in several scattered magnetic traps to produce one megajoule per year.
It sounds too good to be true, and yet it apparently is. That it works has also been confirmed, beyond the shadow of a doubt.
The 'how' of this process is being discovered at the moment. As other specialists from MIT, California, and Switzerland arrive, this process will perhaps be uncovered more quickly. The legal ramifications are also being explored at this very moment. The university people want credit, while certain people in our government want this under tight wraps for years to come.
That leaves several questions. Although Mr. Thurrison had the personality of a child, he must have had the mind of a genius. Why would he go through such lengths to keep this a secret? The benefits of anti-hydrogen power would certainly be appreciated by our world, as the university people here can certainly testify by their zeal in this work. Why also would he trade in opium, and spread XTC to the streets?
These questions, and more, will certainly be answered in a short amount of time. When Agent Mulder, who is now recovered, arrives, perhaps he might be able to develop theories. In the meantime, progress is being reached in a linear, logical manner.
Perhaps Mulder might also be able to obtain information from the Dagashi, who is now under psychiatric evaluation. The murder charges are being held in stasis while his mental state is being determined.
She didn't add that the orb had inexplicably vanished. Perhaps Powys . . . ?
* * *
Powys met them on the freeway outside of Phoenix, heading up the Mogollon Rim, a big escarpment that separated the low desert from the transition zone, which in turn led to junipers and later pines as one reached Flagstaff.
Zedar looked like a convincing biker, and Chuck... well, he seemed too nice to be one now. But Powys was willing to bet that they'd always come away first in a bar-room brawl.
They didn't seem surprised to see him as he got out of his recently acquired Mustang. "So what brings you up north?"
Zedar was serious, "I have heard much about Sedona. I wish to see this place for myself."
Powys nodded. "Just watch out for that place. I figure a place that sells 'Supernatural Granola' has to be pretty dangerous."
Chuck laughed at that one, "I went through when it was still an artists' colony. I guess I'll be just as shocked!"
"What are you going to do?"
"Just ride the road for now."
Powys drove on his way, pretty confident that those two were going to be quite all right. Zedar needed a few decades of freedom. After serving Destiny for more than five thousand years, he needed a break, and Chuck needed a mentor, now that he was getting to touch his inner gift.
Now, twenty years down the road, Powys would have to worry about Chuck. He'd have to worry about a _lot_ of things . . .
* * *
Pancho smiled as he lay down on his bunkbed. He held up the orb, almost lovingly. Nobody had seen him take it, but for some reason, it had called to him.
For the first time in ages, he closed his eyes without the need for alcohol -- willingly, that is. He had the orb.
* * *
The Doctor nodded towards the door, "Boktor, if you want to get off."
Silk hesitated. Powys had given him enough gold to last for a few lifetimes, but he was hesitant. "Need another travelling partner for a while?"
The Doctor slowly smiled. "No."
The TARDIS moved on quickly.
If you do not understand everything in this story, then that is perfectly all right.
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